"How?" he inquired.
"Why, almost bright and cheerful--no, almost nothing--very much excited, and wild, and glad!" she replied.
"Night-walking amuses him, then," I remarked, affecting a careless manner; in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious to ascertain the truth of her statement--for to see the master looking glad would not be an every-day spectacle; I framed an excuse to go in.
Heathcliff stood at the open door--he was pale, and he trembled; yet certainly he had a strange joyful glitter in his eyes, that altered the aspect of his whole face.
"Will you have some breakfast?" I said. "You must be hungry, rambling about all night!"
I wanted to discover where he had been; but I did not like to ask directly.
"No, I'm not hungry," he answered, averting his head, and speaking rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to divine the occasion of his good humor.
I felt perplexed--I didn't know whether it were not a proper opportunity to offer a bit of admonition.
"I don't think it right to wander out of doors," I observed, "instead of being in bed; it is not wise, at any rate, this moist season. I daresay you'll catch a bad cold, or a fever--you have something the matter with you now!"
"Nothing but what I can bear," he replied, "and with the greatest pleasure, provided you'll leave me alone--get in, and don't annoy me."