painting in oil

no; sit you down, my good mistress,' she replied, `you're right sickly yet. He's not dead: Doctor Kenneth thinks he may last another day. I met him on the road and asked.'
Instead of sitting down, I snatched my outdoor things, and hastened below, for the way was free. On entering the house, I looked about for someone to give information of Catherine. The place was filled with sunshine, and the door stood wide open; but nobody seemed at hand. As I hesitated whether to go off at once, or return and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth. Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy, and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes. `Where is Miss Catherine?' I demanded sternly, supposing I could frighten him into giving intelligence, by catching him thus, alone. He sucked on like an innocent.
`Is she gone?' I said.
No,' he replied; `she's upstairs: she's not to go; we won't let her.'
`You won't let her, little idiot!' I exclaimed. `Direct me to her room immediately, or I'll make you sing out sharply.'
`Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there,' he answered. `He says I'm not to be soft with Catherine: she's my wife, and it's shameful that she should wish to leave me. He says, she hates me and wants me to die, that she may have my money; but she shan't have it: and she shan't go home! She never shall!--she may cry, and be sick as much as she