da vinci painting
mona lisa painting
thomas kinkade painting
van gogh painting
I went into the kitchen, and sat down to lull my little lamb to sleep. Heathcliff, as I thought, walked through to the barn. It turned out afterwards that he only got as far as the other side the settle, when he flung himself on a bench by the wall, removed from the fire, and remained silent.
I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song that began:
It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat,
The mither beneath the mools heard that--when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her room, put her head in, and whispered:
`Are you alone, Nelly?'
`Yes, miss,' I replied.
She entered and approached the hearth. I, supposing she was going to say something, looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder, as if she meant to speak, and she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence. I resumed my song; not having forgotten her recent behaviour.