He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!
Emily BronteWhatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire
Emily Bronte