"Oh, sir!" I cried, checking the exclamation risen to his lips at the sight which met him, and the bleak atmosphere of the chamber. "My poor mistress is ill, and she quite masters me: I cannot manage her at all; pray, come and persuade her to go to bed. Forget your anger, for she's hard to guide any way but her own."
"Catherine ill?" he said, hastening to us. "Shut the window, Ellen! Catherine! why-"

'Oh, sir!' I cried, 'My poor mistress is ill, and I cannot manage her at all; pray, persuade her to go to bed.'
'Catherine ill?' he said, hastening over to us. 'Shut the window, Ellen! Catherine!'
