Cathy chimed. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. "Oh! if I had known this," he exclaimed, "what guilt, what remorse might have been spared me!" "Repentance comes too late when the deed's done," returned Wild, bitterly. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe.
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