1801. -- I have just
returned from a visit to my landlord -- the solitary neighbour that I shall be
troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country. In all England I do not
believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir
of society -- a perfect misanthropist's heaven; and Mr. Heathcliff and I are
such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He
little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes
withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers
sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his
waistcoat, as I announced my name.
"Mr.
Heathcliff?" I said.
A nod was the answer.
"Mr. Lockwood,
your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible
after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my
perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange. I heard
yesterday you had had some thoughts ---- "
"Thrushcross
Grange is my own, sir," he interrupted, wincing. "I should not allow
any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it. Walk in!"
The "walk in"
was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, "Go to the
deuce." Even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathizing
movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept
the invitation. I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly
reserved than myself.
When he saw my horse's
breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and
then sullenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court,
"Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse, and bring up some wine."
"Here we have the
whole establishment of domestics, I suppose," was the reflection suggested
by this compound order. "No wonder the grass grows up between the flags,
and cattle are the only hedge-cutters."
Joseph was an elderly,
nay, an old man -- very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy. "The Lord
help us!" he soliloquized in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while
relieving me of my horse, looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I
charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner,
and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.
Wuthering Heights is
the name of Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling, "wuthering" being a
significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to
which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they
must have up there at all times, indeed. One may guess the power of the north
wind blowing over the edge by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the
end of the house, and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one
way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily the architect had foresight to
build it strong. The narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners
defended with large jutting stones.
Before passing the
threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the
front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness
of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date
"1500," and the name "Hareton Earnshaw." I would have made
a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly
owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance or
complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to
inspecting the penetralium.
One step brought us into
the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage. They call
it here "the house" pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour
generally. But, I believe, at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to
retreat altogether into another quarter -- at least I distinguished a chatter
of tongues and a clatter of culinary utensils deep within; and I observed no
signs of roasting, boiling, or baking about the huge fireplace, nor any glitter
of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected
splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes,
interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast
oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been underdrawn; its entire
anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with
oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham concealed it. Above the
chimney were sundry villainous old guns and a couple of horse-pistols, and, by
way of ornament, three gaudily painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The
floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures
painted green, one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch
under the dresser reposed a huge liver-coloured bitch pointer surrounded by a
swarm of squealing puppies, and other dogs haunted other recesses.
The apartment and
furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as belonging to a homely,
northern farmer with a stubborn countenance and stalwart limbs set out to
advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated in his
armchair, his mug of ale frothing on the round table before him, is to be seen
in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right
time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode
and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect. in dress and manners
a gentleman -- that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire; rather
slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an
erect and handsome figure, and rather morose. Possibly, some people might
suspect him of a degree of underbred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within
that tells me it is nothing of the sort. I know, by instinct, his reserve
springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling, to manifestations of
mutual kindliness. He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a
species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No, I'm running on too
fast. I bestow my own attributes over liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have
entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a
would-be acquaintance to those which actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is
almost peculiar. My dear mother used to say I should never have a comfortable
home, and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one.
While enjoying a month
of fine weather at the sea coast, I was thrown into the company of a most
fascinating creature -- a real goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no
notice of me. I "never told my love" vocally; still, if looks have
language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears. She
understood me at last, and looked a return -- the sweetest of all imaginable
looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame -- shrank icily into myself,
like a snail; at every glance retired colder and farther, till finally the poor
innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at
her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp. By this curious turn of
disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how
undeserved I alone can appreciate.
I took a seat at the
end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which my landlord advanced, and
filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the canine mother, who
had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to the back of my legs, her
lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch. My caress provoked a
long, guttural gnarl.
"You'd better let
the dog alone," growled Mr. Heathcliff, in unison, checking fiercer
demonstrations with a punch of his foot. "She's not accustomed to be
spoiled -- not kept for a pet." Then, striding to a side door, he shouted
again, "Joseph!"
Joseph mumbled
indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave no intimation of ascending;
so his master dived down to him, leaving me vis-a-vis the ruffianly bitch and a
pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her a jealous guardianship over
all my movements. Not anxious to come in contact with their fangs, I sat still;
but, imagining they would scarcely understand tacit insults, I unfortunately
indulged in winking and making faces at the trio, and some turn of my
physiognomy so irritated madam that she suddenly broke into a fury and leapt on
my knees. I flung her back, and hastened to interpose the table between us.
This proceeding roused the whole hive. Half a dozen four-footed fiends, of
various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens to the common centre. I felt my
heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and parrying off the larger
combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, I was constrained to
demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household in re-establishing peace.
Mr. Heathcliff and his
man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious phlegm. I don't think they moved
one second faster than usual, though the hearth was an absolute tempest of
worrying and yelping. Happily, an inhabitant of the kitchen made more dispatch.
A lusty dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed
into the midst of us flourishing a frying-pan, and used that weapon and her
tongue to such purpose that the storm subsided magically, and she only
remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master entered on the
scene.
"What the devil is
the matter?" he asked, eyeing me in a manner that I could ill endure after
this inhospitable treatment.
"What the devil,
indeed!" I muttered. "The herd of possessed swine could have had no
worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave
a stranger with a brood of tigers!"
"They won't meddle
with persons who touch nothing," he remarked, putting the bottle before
me, and restoring the displaced table. "The dogs do right to be vigilant.
Take a glass of wine."
"No, thank
you."
"Not bitten, are
you?"
"If I had been, I
would have set my signet on the biter."
Heathcliff's
countenance relaxed into a grin.
"Come, come,"
he said; "you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests
are so exceedingly rare in this house that I and my dogs, I am willing to own,
hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir!"
I bowed and returned
the pledge, beginning to perceive that it would be foolish to sit sulking for
the misbehaviour of a pack of curs; besides, I felt loath to yield the fellow
further amusement at my expense, since his humour took that turn.
He -- probably swayed
by prudential consideration of the folly of offending a good tenant -- relaxed
a little in the laconic style of chipping off his pronouns and auxiliary verbs,
and introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me -- a
discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of my present place of
retirement.
I found him very
intelligent on the topics we touched; and before I went home I was encouraged
so far as to volunteer another visit to-morrow.
He evidently wished no
repetition of my intrusion. I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how
sociable I feel myself, compared with him.
Yesterday afternoon set
in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of
wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.
On coming up from
dinner, however, (N.B. I dine between twelve and one o'clock; the housekeeper,
a matronly lady taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would
not comprehend my request that I might be served at five), -- on mounting the
stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the room, I saw a
servant-girl on her knees, surrounded by brushes and coal-scuttles, and raising
an infernal dust as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders. This
spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four miles
walk, arrived at Heathcliff's garden gate just in time to escape the first
feathery flakes of a snow shower.
On that bleak hill top
the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every
limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the
flagged causeway bordered with straggling gooseberry bushes, knocked vainly for
admittance, till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.
"Wretched
inmates!" I ejaculated, mentally, "you deserve perpetual isolation
from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least, I would not keep
my doors barred in the day time -- I don't care -- I will get in !"
So resolved, I grasped
the latch, and shook it vehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head
from a round window of the barn.
"What are ye
for?" he shouted. "T' maister's down i' t' fowld. Go round by th' end
ut' laith, if ye went to spake to him."
"Is there nobody
inside to open the door?" I hallooed responsively.
"There's nobbut t'
missis, and shoo'll not oppen't an ye mak yer flaysome dins till neeght."
"Why? Cannot you
tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?"
"Nor-ne me! I'll
hae noa hend wi't," muttered the head, vanishing.
The snow began to drive
thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial, when a young man without
coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to
follow him; and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area
containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge,
warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully
in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and
near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the
"missis," an individual whose existence I had never previously
suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a seat. She
looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained motionless and mute.
"Rough
weather!" I remarked. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff, the door must
bear the consequence of your servants' leisure attendance. I had hard work to
make them hear me."
She never opened her
mouth. I stared -- she stared also. At any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a
cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.
"Sit down,"
said the young man gruffly. "He'll be in soon."
I obeyed, and hemmed,
and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this second interview, to move the
extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning my acquaintance.
"A beautiful
animal!" I commenced again. "Do you intend parting with the little
ones, madam?"
"They are not
mine," said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Heathcliff himself
could have replied.
"Ah, your
favourites are among these?" I continued, turning to an obscure cushion
full of something like cats.
"A strange choice
of favourites!" she observed scornfully.
Unluckily it was a heap
of dead rabbits. I hemmed once more, and drew closer to the hearth, repeating
my comment on the wildness of the evening.
"You should not
have come out," she said, rising and reaching from the chimney-piece two
of the painted canisters.
Her position before was
sheltered from the light; now, I had a distinct view of her whole figure and
countenance. She was slender, and apparently scarcely past girlhood; an
admirable form, and the most exquisite little face that I have ever had the
pleasure of beholding; small features, very fair; flaxen ringlets, or rather
golden, hanging loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they been agreeable
in expression, that would have been irresistible. Fortunately for my
susceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered between scorn and a
kind of desperation, singularly unnatural to be detected there. The canisters
were almost out of her reach. I made a motion to aid her. She turned upon me as
a miser might turn if any one attempted to assist him in counting his gold.
"I don't want your
help," she snapped. "I can get them for myself."
"I beg your
pardon," I hastened to reply.
"Were you asked to
tea?" she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black frock, and standing
with a spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot.
"I shall be glad
to have a cup," I answered.
"Were you
asked?" she repeated.
"No," I said,
half smiling. "You are the proper person to ask me."
She flung the tea back,
spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a pet. Her forehead corrugated, and her
red under-lip pushed out, like a child's ready to cry.
Meanwhile, the young
man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby upper garment, and, erecting
himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the corner of his eyes, for
all the world as if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began
to doubt whether he were a servant or not. His dress and speech were both rude,
entirely devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff. His
thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached
bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those of a common
labourer. Still his bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed none of a
domestic's assiduity in attending on the lady of the house. In the absence of
clear proofs of his condition, I deemed it best to abstain from noticing his
curious conduct; and, five minutes afterwards, the entrance of Heathcliff
relieved me, in some measure, from my uncomfortable state.
"You see, sir, I
am come, according to promise," I exclaimed, assuming the cheerful;
"and I fear I shall be weather-bound for half an hour, if you can afford
me shelter during that space."
"Half an
hour?" he said, shaking the white flakes from his clothes. "I wonder
you should select the thick of a snowstorm to ramble about in. Do you know that
you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People familiar with these moors
often miss their road on such evenings; and I can tell you there is no chance
of a change at present."
"Perhaps I can get
a guide among your lads, and he might stay at the Grange till morning. Could
you spare me one?"
"No, I could
not."
"Oh, indeed! Well,
then, I must trust to my own sagacity."
"Umph!"
"Are you going to
mak th' tea?" demanded he of the shabby coat, shifting his ferocious gaze
from me to the young lady.
"Is he to have
any?" she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.
"Get it ready,
will you?" was the answer, uttered so savagely that I started. The tone in
which the words were said revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt
inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow. When the preparations were
finished, he invited me with -- "Now, sir, bring forward your chair."
And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round the table, an austere
silence prevailing while we discussed our meal.
I thought, if I had
caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it. They could not
every day sit so grim and taciturn; and it was impossible, however ill-tempered
they might be, that the universal scowl they wore was their everyday
countenance.
"It is
strange," I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea and
receiving another -- "it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and
ideas. Many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of such
complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet, I'll venture
to say, that surrounded by your family, and with your amiable lady as the
presiding genius over your home and heart -- "
"My amiable lady!"
he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his face. "Where is she
-- my amiable lady?"
"Mrs. Heathcliff,
your wife, I mean."
"Well, yes -- Oh!
you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of ministering angel, and
guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, even when her body is gone. Is that
it?"
Perceiving myself in a
blunder, I attempted to correct it. I might have seen there was too great a
disparity between the ages of the parties to make it likely that they were man
and wife. One was about forty, a period of mental vigour at which men seldom
cherish the delusion of being married for love, by girls: that dream is
reserved for the solace of our declining years. The other did not look
seventeen.
Then it flashed upon me
-- "The clown at my elbow, who is drinking his tea out of a basin and
eating his bread with unwashed hands, may be her husband. Heathcliff, junior,
of course. Here is the consequence of being buried alive: she has thrown
herself away upon that boor, from sheer ignorance that better individuals
existed! A sad pity -- I must beware how I cause her to regret her
choice."
The last reflection may
seem conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive. I
knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.
"Mrs. Heathcliff
is my daughter-in-law," said Heathcliff, corroborating my surmise. He
turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction, a look of hatred, unless
he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that will not, like those of other
people, interpret the language of his soul.
"Ah, certainly --
I see now; you are the favoured possessor of the beneficent fairy," I
remarked, turning to my neighbour.
This was worse than
before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist with every appearance of
a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himself, presently, and
smothered the storm in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf, which however, I
took care not to notice.
"Unhappy in your
conjectures, sir!" observed my host; "we neither of us have the
privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said she was my
daughter-in-law, therefore, she must have married my son."
"And this young
man is -- "
"Not my son,
assuredly."
Heathcliff smiled
again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute the paternity of that
bear to him.
"My name is
Hareton Earnshaw," growled the other; "and I'd counsel you to respect
it!"
"I've shown no
disrespect," was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which
he announced himself.
He fixed his eye on me
longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear I might be tempted either to
box his ears or render my hilarity audible. I began to feel unmistakably out of
place in that pleasant family circle. The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame,
and more than neutralized, the glowing physical comforts round me; and I
resolved to be cautious how I ventured under those rafters a third time.
The business of eating
being concluded, and no one uttering a word of sociable conversation, I
approached a window to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight I saw -- dark
night coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of
wind and suffocating snow.
"I don't think it
possible for me to get home now without a guide," I could not help
exclaiming. "The roads will be buried already; and, if they were bare, I
could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance."
"Hareton, drive
those dozen sheep into the barn porch. They'll be covered if left in the fold
all night. And put a plank before them," said Heathcliff.
"How must I
do?" I continued, with rising irritation.
There was no reply to
my question; and on looking round I saw only Joseph bringing in a pail of
porridge for the dogs, and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning over the fire, diverting
herself with burning a bundle of matches which had fallen from the
chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its place. The former, when
he had deposited his burden, took a critical survey of the room, and in cracked
tones grated out, --
"Aw woonder how
yah can faishion to stand thear i' idleness un war, when all on 'em's goan out!
Bud yah're a nowt, and it's no use talking; yah'll niver mend o' yer ill ways,
but goa raight to t' divil, like yer mother afore ye!"
I imagined for a moment
that this piece of eloquence was addressed to me; and, sufficiently enraged,
stepped towards the aged rascal with an intention of kicking him out of the
door. Mrs. Heathcliff, however, checked me by her answer.
"You scandalous
old hypocrite!" she replied. "Are you not afraid of being carried
away bodily, whenever you mention the devil's name? I warn you to refrain from
provoking me, or I'll ask your abduction as a special favour. Stop! Look here,
Joseph," she continued, taking a long, dark book from a shelf; "I'll
show you how far I've progressed in the black art. I shall soon be competent to
make a clear house of it. The red cow didn't die by chance, and your rheumatism
can hardly be reckoned among providential visitations!"
"Oh, wicked,
wicked!" gasped the elder; "may the Lord deliver us from evil!"
"No, reprobate;
you are a castaway. Be off, or I'll hurt you seriously. I'll have you all
modelled in wax and clay; and the first who passes the limits I fix shall --
I'll not say what he shall be done to, but you'll see! Go! I'm looking at
you."
The little witch put a
mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and Joseph, trembling with sincere
horror, hurried out, praying and ejaculating "wicked" as he went. I
thought her conduct must be prompted by a species of dreary fun; and, now that
we were alone, I endeavoured to interest her in my distress.
"Mrs.
Heathcliff," I said earnestly, "you must excuse me for troubling you.
I presume, because, with that face, I'm sure you cannot help being
good-hearted. Do point out some landmarks by which I may know my way home. I
have no more idea how to get there than you would have how to get to
London."
"Take the road you
came," she answered, ensconcing herself in a chair, with a candle, and the
long book open before her. "It is brief advice, but as sound as I can
give."
"Then, if you hear
of me being discovered dead in a bog or a pit full of snow, your conscience
won't whisper that it is partly your fault?"
"How so? I cannot
escort you. They wouldn't let me go to the end of the garden wall."
"You! I should be
sorry to ask you to cross the threshold for my convenience on such a
night," I cried. "I want you to tell me my way, not to show it, or
else to persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give me a guide."
"Who? There is
himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph, and I. Which would you have?"
"Are there no boys
at the farm?"
"No; those are
all."
"Then, it follows
that I am compelled to stay."
"That you may
settle with your host. I have nothing to do with it."
"I hope it will be
a lesson to you to make no more rash journeys on these hills," cried
Heathcliff's stern voice from the kitchen entrance. "As to staying here, I
don't keep accommodations for visitors. You must share a bed with Hareton or
Joseph, if you do."
"I can sleep on a
chair in this room," I replied.
"No, no! A
stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor. It will not suit me to permit any
one the range of the place while I am off guard!" said the unmannerly
wretch.
With this insult, my
patience was at an end. I uttered an expression of disgust, and pushed past him
into the yard, running against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so dark that I could
not see the means of exit; and, as I wandered round, I heard another specimen
of their civil behaviour amongst each other. At first the young man appeared
about to befriend me.
"I'll go with him
as far as the park," he said.
"You'll go with
him to hell!" exclaimed his master, or whatever relation he bore.
"And who is to look after the horses, eh?"
"A man's life is
of more consequence than one evening's neglect of the horses. Somebody must
go," murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected.
"Not at your
command!" retorted Hareton. "If you set store on him, you'd better be
quiet."
"Then I hope his
ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr. Heathcliff will never get another tenant
till the Grange is a ruin!" she answered sharply.
"Hearken, hearken;
shoo's cursing on 'em!" muttered Joseph, towards whom I had been steering.
He sat within earshot,
milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously, and
calling out that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest
postern.
"Maister, maister,
he's staling t' lanthern!" shouted the ancient, pursuing my retreat.
"Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey, Wolf, holld him, holld him!"
On opening the little
door, two hairy monsters flew at my throat, bearing me down and extinguishing
the light; while a mingled guffaw from Heathcliff and Hareton put the copestone
on my rage and humiliation. Fortunately, the beasts seemed more bent on
stretching their paws and yawning, and flourishing their tails, than devouring
me alive; but they would suffer no resurrection, and I was forced to lie till
their malignant masters pleased to deliver me. Then, hatless and trembling with
wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out -- on their peril to keep me one
minute longer -- with several incoherent threats of retaliation that, in their
indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.
The vehemence of my
agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the nose; and still Heathcliff
laughed, and still I scolded. I don't know what would have concluded the scene
had there not been one person at hand rather more rational than myself and more
benevolent than my entertainer. This was Zillah, the stout housewife, who at
length issued forth to inquire into the nature of the uproar. She thought that
some of them had been laying violent hands on me; and, not daring to attack her
master, she turned her vocal artillery against the younger scoundrel.
"Well, Mr.
Earnshaw," she cried, "I wonder what you'll have agait next! Are we
going to murder folk on our very door-stones? I see this house will never do
for me. Look at t' poor lad; he's fair choking! -- Wisht, wisht! you munn't go
on so. Come in, and I'll cure that. There now, hold ye still."
With these words she
suddenly splashed a pint of icy water down my neck, and pulled me into the
kitchen. Mr. Heathcliff followed, his accidental merriment expiring quickly in
his habitual moroseness.
I was sick exceedingly,
and dizzy and faint, and thus compelled perforce to accept lodgings under his
roof. He told Zillah to give me a glass of brandy, and then passed on to the
inner room; while she condoled with me on my sorry predicament, and having
obeyed his orders, whereby I was somewhat revived, ushered me to bed.
While leading the way
upstairs, she recommended that I should hide the candle, and not make a noise;
for her master had an odd notion about the chamber she would put me in, and
never let anybody lodge there willingly.
I asked the reason.
She did not know, she
answered; she had only lived there a year or two; and they had so many queer
goings on, she could not begin to be curious.
Too stupified to be
curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed. The whole
furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press, and a large oak case, with
squares cut out near the top resembling coach windows.
Having approached this
structure, I looked inside, and perceived it to be a singular sort of
old-fashioned couch, very conveniently designed to obviate the necessity for
every member of the family having a room to himself. In fact, it formed a
little closet, and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served as a table.
I slid back the
panelled sides, got in with my light, pulled them together again, and felt
secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every one else.
The ledge, where I
placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was
covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing
but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small -- Catherine
Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff and then again to
Catherine Linton.
In vapid listlessness I
leant my head against the window, and continued spelling over Catherine
Earnshaw -- Heathcliff -- Linton, till my eyes closed. But they had not rested
five minutes when a glare of white letters started from the dark as vivid as
spectres -- the air swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the
obtrusive name, I discovered my candle-wick reclining on one of the antique
volumes, and perfuming the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin. I snuffed
it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence of cold and lingering nausea,
sat up and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was a Testament, in lean
type, and smelling dreadfully musty. A fly-leaf bore the inscription,
"Catherine Earnshaw, her book," and a date some quarter of a century
back. I shut it, and took up another, and another, till I had examined all.
Catherine's library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have
been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose. Scarcely one
chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary -- at least, the appearance of one
-- covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached
sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an
unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page (quite a treasure,
probably, when first lighted on) I was greatly amused to behold an excellent
caricature of my friend Joseph, rudely yet powerfully sketched. An immediate
interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to
decipher her faded hieroglyphics.
"An awful
Sunday!" commenced the paragraph beneath. "I wish my father were back
again. Hindley is a detestable substitute -- his conduct to Heathcliff is
atrocious -- H. and I are going to rebel -- we took our initiatory step this
evening.
"All day had been
flooding with rain. We could not go to church, so Joseph must needs get up a
congregation in the garret; and while Hindley and his wife basked downstairs
before a comfortable fire -- doing anything but reading their Bibles, I'll
answer for it -- Heathcliff, myself, and the unhappy plough-boy were commanded
to take our prayer-books and mount. We were ranged in a row on a sack of corn,
groaning and shivering, and hoping that Joseph would shiver too, so that he
might give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea! The service lasted
precisely three hours; and yet my brother had the face to exclaim, when he saw
us descending, "'What! done already?'
On Sunday evenings we
used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; now a mere titter
is sufficient to send us into corners!
" 'You forget you
have a master here,' says the tyrant. 'I'll demolish the first who puts me out
of temper! I insist on perfect sobriety and silence. O boy! was that you? ---
Frances darling, pull his hair as you go by. I heard him snap his fingers.'
Frances pulled his hair heartily, and then went and seated herself on her
husband's knee; and there they were, like two babies, kissing and talking
nonsense by the hour -- foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of. We made
ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just
fastened our pinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes
Joseph on an errand from the stables. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my
ears, and croaks, --
" 'T' maister
nobbut just buried, and Sabbath no o'ered, und t' sound o' t' gospel still i'
yer lugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame on ye! Sit ye down, ill childer;
there's good books eneugh if ye'll read 'em. Sit ye down, and think o' yer
sowls!'
"Saying this, he
compelled us so to square our positions that we might receive from the far-off
fire a dull ray to show us the text of the lumber he thrust upon us. I could
not bear the employment. I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it
into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the
same place. Then there was a hubbub!
" 'Maister
Hindley!' shouted our chaplain. 'Maister, coom hither! Miss Cathy's riven th'
back off "Th' Helmet o' Salvation," un Heathcliff's pawsed his fit
into t' first part o' "T' Brooad Way to Destruction!" It's fair
flaysome that ye let 'em go on this gait. Ech! th' owd man wad ha' laced 'em
properly; but he's goan!'
"Hindley hurried
up from his paradise on the hearth, and seizing one of us by the collar, and
the other by the arm, hurled both into the back kitchen, where, Joseph
asseverated, `owd Nick' would fetch us as sure as we were living; and, so
comforted, we each sought a separate nook to await his advent.
"I reached this
book, and a pot of ink from a shelf, and pushed the house-door ajar to give me
light, and I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my
companion is impatient and proposes that we should appropriate the dairy
woman's cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant
suggestion -- and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his
prophesy verified -- we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are
here."
I suppose Catherine
fulfilled her project, for the next sentence took up another subject; she waxed
lachrymose.
"How little did I
dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!" she wrote. "My head
aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still I can't give over. Poor
Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won't let him sit with us, nor
eat with us any more; and he says, he and I must not play together, and
threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders.
"He has been
blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he
will reduce him to his right place -- "
I began to nod drowsily
over the dim page; my eye wandered from manuscript to print. I saw a red
ornamented title -- "Seventy Times Seven, and the First of the
Seventy-First. A Pious Discourse delivered by the Reverend Jabes Branderham, in
the Chapel of Gimmerden Sough." And while I was, half consciously,
worrying my brain to guess what Jabes Branderham would make of his subject, I
sank back in bed, and fell asleep.
Alas, for the effects
of bad tea and bad temper! what else could it be that made me pass such a
terrible night? I don't remember another that I can at all compare with it
since I was capable of suffering.
I began to dream,
almost before I ceased to be sensible of my locality. I thought it was morning,
and I had set out on my way home, with Joseph for a guide. The snow lay yards
deep in our road; and, as we floundered on, my companion wearied me with
constant reproaches that I had not brought a pilgrim's staff, telling me I
could never get into the house without one, and boastfully flourishing a
heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood to be so denominated.
For a moment I
considered it absurd that I should need such a weapon to gain admittance into
my own residence. Then a new idea flashed across me. I was not going there. We
were journeying to hear the famous Jabes Branderham preach from the text,
"Seventy Times Seven," and either Joseph the preacher or I had
committed the "First of the Seventy-First," and were to be publicly
exposed and excommunicated.
We came to the chapel.
I have passed it really in my walks twice or thrice. It lies in a hollow
between two hills -- an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whose peaty moisture is
said to answer all the purposes of embalming on the few corpses deposited
there. The roof has been kept whole hitherto; but as the clergyman's stipend is
only twenty pounds per annum, and a house with two rooms, threatening speedily
to determine into one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor,
especially as it is currently reported that his flock would rather let him
starve than increase the living by one penny from their own pockets. However,
in my dream, Jabes had a full and attentive congregation, and he preached --
good God! what a sermon, divided into four hundred and ninety parts, each fully
equal to an ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing a separate
sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot tell. He had his private manner of
interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother should sin
different sins on every occasion. They were of the most curious character --
odd transgressions that I never imagined previously.
Oh, how weary I grew!
How I writhed, and yawned, and nodded, and revived! How I pinched, and pricked
myself, and rubbed my eyes, and stood up, and sat down again, and nudged Joseph
to inform me if he would ever have done! I was condemned to hear all out.
Finally, he reached the "First of the Seventy-First." At that crisis,
a sudden inspiration descended on me. I was moved to rise and denounce Jabes
Branderham as the sinner of the sin that no Christian need pardon.
"Sir," I
exclaimed, "sitting here within these four walls, at one stretch, I have
endured and forgiven the four hundred and ninety heads of your discourse. Seventy
times seven times have I plucked up my hat and been about to depart; seventy
times seven times have you preposterously forced me to resume my seat. The four
hundred and ninety-first is too much. -- Fellow- martyrs, have at him! Drag him
down, and crush him to atoms, that the place which knows him may know him no
more!"
"Thou art the
man!" cried Jabes, after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion.
"Seventy times seven times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage; seventy
times seven did I take counsel with my soul. Lo, this is human weakness; this
also may be absolved! The 'First of the Seventy-First' is come. Brethren,
execute upon him the judgment written. Such honour have all His saints!"
With that concluding
word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim's staves, rushed round me in a
body; and I, having no weapon to raise in self-defence, commenced grappling
with Joseph, my nearest and most ferocious assailant, for his. In the
confluence of the multitude several clubs crossed; blows aimed at me fell on
other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resounded with rappings and
counter-rappings. Every man's hand was against his neighbour; and Branderham,
unwilling to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud taps on the
boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartly that at last, to my
unspeakable relief, they woke me. And what was it that had suggested the
tremendous tumult? What had played Jabes's part in the row? Merely the branch
of a fir-tree that touched my lattice, as the blast wailed by, and rattled its
dry cones against the panes! I listened doubtingly an instant, detected the
disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again -- if possible, still more
disagreeably than before.
This time I remembered
I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind and the
driving of the snow. I heard also the fir-bough repeat its teasing sound, and
ascribed it to the right cause. But it annoyed me so much that I resolved to
silence it, if possible; and I thought I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the
casement. The hook was soldered into the staple -- a circumstance observed by
me when awake, but forgotten. "I must stop it, nevertheless!" I
muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to
seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the
fingers of a little, ice- cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over
me. I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most
melancholy voice sobbed, "Let me in -- let me in!" "Who are
you?" I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. "Catherine
Linton," it replied shiveringly. (Why did I think of Linton? I had read
Earnshaw twenty times for Linton.) "I'm come home. I'd lost my way on the
moor." As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through
the window. Terror made me cruel; and finding it useless to attempt shaking the
creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and
fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes. Still it wailed,
"Let me in!" and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me
with fear. "How can I?" I said at length. "Let me go, if you
want me to let you in!" The fingers relaxed; I snatched mine through the
hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears
to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter
of an hour; yet the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning
on! "Begone!" I shouted; "I'll never let you in -- not if you
beg for twenty years." "It is twenty years," mourned the voice
-- "twenty years. I've been a waif for twenty years!" Thereat began a
feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I
tried to jump up, but could not stir a limb, and so yelled aloud in a frenzy of
fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal. Hasty footsteps
approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open with a vigorous hand, and a
light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat shuddering
yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead. The intruder appeared to
hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last he said in a half-whisper, plainly
not expecting an answer, "Is any one here?" I considered it best to
confess my presence, for I knew Heathcliff's accents, and feared he might
search further if I kept quiet. With this intention I turned and opened the
panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.
Heathcliff stood near
the entrance, in his shirt and trousers, with a candle dripping over his
fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the
oak startled him like an electric shock. The light leaped from his hold to a
distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme that he could hardly
pick it up.
"It is only your
guest, sir," I called out, desirous to spare him the humiliation of
exposing his cowardice further. "I had the misfortune to scream in my
sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Oh, God confound
you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish you were at the -- " commenced my host, setting
the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady.
"And who showed you up into this room?" he continued, crushing his nails
into his palms and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.
"Who was it? I've a good mind to turn them out of the house this
moment."
"It was your
servant Zillah," I replied, flinging myself on to the floor, and rapidly
resuming my garments. "I should not care if you did, Mr. Heathcliff; she
richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the
place was haunted, at my expense. Well, it is -- swarming with ghosts and
goblins! You have reason in shutting it up, I assure you. No one will thank you
for a doze in such a den!"
"What do you
mean?" asked Heathcliff, "and what are you doing? Lie down and finish
out the night, since you are here; but, for Heaven's sake, don't repeat that
horrid noise. Nothing could excuse it, unless you were having your throat
cut!"
"If the little
fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have strangled me!" I
returned. "I'm not going to endure the persecutions of your hospitable
ancestors again. Was not the Reverend Jabes Branderham akin to you on the
mother's side? And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was
called, she must have been a changeling --- wicked little soul! She told me she
had been walking the earth those twenty years -- a just punishment for her
mortal transgressions, I've no doubt."
Scarcely were these
words uttered, when I recollected the association of Heathcliff's with
Catherine's name in the book, which had completely slipped from my memory, till
thus awakened. I blushed at my inconsideration; but without showing further
consciousness of the offence, I hastened to add, "The truth is, sir, I
passed the first part of the night in ---- " Here I stopped afresh. I was
about to say "perusing those old volumes" -- then it would have revealed
my knowledge of their written as well as their printed contents; so, correcting
myself, I went on, "In spelling over the name scratched on that
window-ledge -- a monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like
counting, or -- "
"What can you mean
by talking in this way to me?" thundered Heathcliff, with savage
vehemence. "How -- how dare you, under my roof? -- God, he's mad to speak
so!" And he struck his forehead with rage.
I did not know whether
to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully
affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams, affirming I had never
heard the appellation of "Catherine Linton" before, but reading it
often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer
my imagination under control. Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter
of the bed as I spoke, finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I
guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled
to vanquish an excess of violent emotion. Not liking to show him that I had
heard the conflict, I continued my toilet rather noisily, looked at my watch,
and soliloquized on the length of the night. Not three o'clock yet! I could
have taken oath it had been six. Time stagnates here. We must surely have
retired to rest at eight!
"Always at nine in
winter, and rise at four," said my host, suppressing a groan, and, as I
fancied, by the motion of his arm's shadow, dashing a tear from his eyes.
"Mr. Lockwood," he added, "you may go into my room. You'll only
be in the way, coming downstairs so early; and your childish outcry has sent
sleep to the devil for me."
"And for me
too," I replied. "I'll walk in the yard till daylight, and then I'll
be off; and you need not dread a repetition of my intrusion. I'm now quite
cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man
ought to find sufficient company in himself."
"Delightful
company!" muttered Heathcliff. "Take the candle, and go where you
please. I shall join you directly. Keep out of the yard, though -- the dogs are
unchained; and the house -- Juno mounts sentinel there, and --- nay, you can
only ramble about the steps and passages. But away with you! I'll come in two
minutes!"
I obeyed, so far as to
quit the chamber; when, ignorant where the narrow lobbies led, I stood still,
and was witness, involuntarily, to a piece of superstition on the part of my
landlord which belied oddly his apparent sense. He got on to the bed and
wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable
passion of tears. "Come in! come in!" he sobbed. "Cathy, do
come! Oh, do -- once more! Oh, my heart's darling! hear me this time,
Catherine, at last!" The spectre showed a spectre's ordinary caprice. It
gave no sign of being; but the snow and wind whirled wildly through, even
reaching my station, and blowing out the light.
There was such anguish
in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving that my compassion made me
overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have listened at all, and
vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony;
though why was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously to the lower
regions, and landed in the back kitchen, where a gleam of fire, raked compactly
together, enabled me to rekindle my candle. Nothing was stirring except a
brindled, gray cat, which crept from the ashes, and saluted me with a querulous
mew.
Two benches, shaped in
sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth. On one of these I stretched
myself, and Grimalkin mounted the other. We were both of us nodding ere any one
invaded our retreat, and then it was Joseph, shuffling down a wooden ladder
that vanished in the roof, through a trap -- the ascent to his garret, I
suppose. He cast a sinister look at the little flame which I had enticed to
play between the ribs, swept the cat from its elevation, and bestowing himself
in the vacancy, commenced the operation of stuffing a three-inch pipe with
tobacco. My presence in his sanctum was evidently esteemed a piece of impudence
too shameful for remark. He silently applied the tube to his lips, folded his
arms, and puffed away. I let him enjoy the luxury unannoyed; and after sucking
out his last wreath, and heaving a profound sigh, he got up, and departed as
solemnly as he came.
A more elastic footstep
entered next; and now I opened my mouth for a "good-morning," but
closed it again, the salutation unachieved, for Hareton Earnshaw was performing
his orisons, sotto voce, in a series of curses directed against every object he
touched, while he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig through the
drifts. He glanced over the back of the bench, dilating his nostrils, and
thought as little of exchanging civilities with me as with my companion the
cat. I guessed by his preparations that egress was allowed, and leaving my hard
couch, made a movement to follow him. He noticed this, and thrust at an inner
door with the end of his spade, intimating by an inarticulate sound that there
was the place where I must go if I changed my locality.
It opened into the
house, where the females were already astir -- Zillah urging flakes of flame up
the chimney with a colossal bellows; and Mrs. Heathcliff, kneeling on the
hearth, reading a book by the aid of the blaze. She held her hand interposed
between the furnace-heat and her eyes, and seemed absorbed in her occupation,
desisting from it only to chide the servant for covering her with sparks, or to
push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose over-forwardly into her
face. I was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. He stood by the fire, his
back towards me, just finishing a stormy scene to poor Zillah, who ever and
anon interrupted her labour to pluck up the corner of her apron and heave an
indignant groan.
"And you, you
worthless --- " he broke out as I entered, turning to his daughter-in-law,
and employing an epithet as harmless as duck or sheep, but generally
represented by a dash ---- . "There you are at your idle tricks again! The
rest of them do earn their bread; you live on my charity! Put your trash away,
and find something to do. You shall pay me for the plague of having you
eternally in my sight. Do you hear, damnable jade?"
"I'll put my trash
away, because you can make me if I refuse," answered the young lady,
closing her book and throwing it on a chair. "But I'll not do anything,
though you should swear your tongue out, except what I please!"
Heathcliff lifted his
hand, and the speaker sprang to a safer distance, obviously acquainted with its
weight. Having no desire to be entertained by a cat-and-dog combat, I stepped
forward briskly, as if eager to partake the warmth of the hearth, and innocent
of any knowledge of the interrupted dispute. Each had enough decorum to suspend
further hostilities. Heathcliff placed his fists, out of temptation, in his
pockets; Mrs. Heathcliff curled her lip, and walked to a seat far off, where
she kept her word by playing the part of a statue during the remainder of my
stay. That was not long. I declined joining their breakfast, and at the first
gleam of dawn took an opportunity of escaping into the free air, now clear, and
still, and cold as impalpable ice.
My landlord hallooed
for me to stop ere I reached the bottom of the garden, and offered to accompany
me across the moor. It was well he did, for the whole hill- back was one
billowy, white ocean, the swells and falls not indicating corresponding rises
and depressions in the ground. Many pits, at least, were filled to a level, and
entire ranges of mounds, the refuse of the quarries, blotted from the chart
which my yesterday's walk left pictured in my mind. I had remarked on one side
of the road, at intervals of six or seven yards, a line of upright stones,
continued through the whole length of the barren. These were erected and daubed
with lime on purpose to serve as guides in the dark, and also when a fall, like
the present, confounded the deep swamps on either hand with the firmer path;
but, excepting a dirty dot pointing up here and there, all traces of their
existence had vanished, and my companion found it necessary to warn me
frequently to steer to the right or left, when I imagined I was following
correctly the windings of the road.
We exchanged little
conversation, and he halted at the entrance of Thrushcross Park, saying I could
make no error there. Our adieus were limited to a hasty bow, and then I pushed
forward, trusting to my own resources, for the porter's lodge is untenanted as
yet.
The distance from the
gate to the Grange is two miles; I believe I managed to make it four, what with
losing myself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in snow -- a
predicament which only those who have experienced it can appreciate. At any
rate, whatever were my wanderings, the clock chimed twelve as I entered the
house, and that gave exactly an hour for every mile of the usual way from
Wuthering Heights.
My human fixture and
her satellites rushed to welcome me, exclaiming tumultuously they had
completely given me up. Everybody conjectured that I perished last night, and
they were wondering how they must set about the search for my remains.
I bid them be quiet,
now that they saw me returned, and, benumbed to my very heart, I dragged
upstairs; whence, after putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or
forty minutes, to restore the animal heat, I am adjourned to my study, feeble
as a kitten -- almost too much so to enjoy the cheerful fire and smoking coffee
which the servant has prepared for my refreshment.
What vain weather-cocks
we are ! I, who had determined to hold myself independent of all social
intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, I had lighted on a spot
where it was next to impracticable -- I, weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk
a struggle with low spirits and solitude, was finally compelled to strike my
colours; and, under pretence of gaining information concerning the necessities
of my establishment, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit
down while I ate it, hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and
either rouse me to animation or lull me to sleep by her talk.
"You have lived
here a considerable time," I commenced; "did you not say sixteen
years ?"
"Eighteen, sir; I
came, when the mistress was married, to wait on her; after she died, the master
retained me for his house-keeper."
"Indeed."
l here ensued a pause.
She was not a gossip, I feared, unless about her own affairs, and those could
hardly interest me. However, having studied for an interval, with a fist on
either knee, and a cloud of meditation over her ruddy countenance, she
ejaculated --
"Ah, times are
greatly changed since then!"
"Yes," I
remarked; "you've seen a good many alterations, I suppose?"
"I have; and
troubles too," she said.
"Oh, I'll turn the
talk on my landlord's family!" I thought to myself. "A good subject
to start! And that pretty girl-widow, I should like to know her history --
whether she be a native of the country, or, as is more probable, an exotic that
the surly indigenae will not recognize for kin." With this intention I
asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff let Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in
a situation and residence so much inferior. "Is he not rich enough to keep
the estate in good order?" I inquired.
"Rich, sir!"
she returned. "He has nobody knows what money, and every year it
increases. Yes, yes; he's rich enough to live in a finer house than this. But
he's very near -- close-handed; and if he had meant to flit to Thrushcross
Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenant he could not have borne to miss
the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange people should be so
greedy when they are alone in the world!"
"He had a son, it
seems?"
"Yes, he had one.
He is dead."
"And that young
lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?"
"Yes."
"Where did she
come from originally?"
"Why, sir, she is
my late master's daughter. Catherine Linton was her maiden name. I nursed her,
poor thing! I did wish Mr. Heathcliff would remove here, and then we might have
been together again."
"What! Catherine
Linton?" I exclaimed, astonished. But a minute's reflection convinced me
it was not my ghostly Catherine. "Then," I continued, "my
predecessor's name was Linton?"
"It was."
"And who is that
Earnshaw -- Hareton Earnshaw -- who lives with Mr. Heathcliff? Are they
relations?"
"No; he is the
late Mrs. Linton's nephew."
"The young lady's
cousin, then?"
"Yes; and her
husband was her cousin also -- one on the mother's side, the other on the
father's side. Heathcliff married Mr. Linton's sister."
"I see the house
at Wuthering Heights has 'Earnshaw' carved over the front door. Are they an old
family?"
"Very old, sir;
and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us -- I mean of the
Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights? I beg pardon for asking; but I
should like to hear how she is."
"Mrs. Heathcliff?
She looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think, not very happy."
"Oh dear, I don't
wonder! And how did you like the master?"
"A rough fellow,
rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?"
"Rough as a
saw-edge, and hard as whinstone. The less you meddle with him the better."
"He must have had
some ups and downs in life to make him such a churl. Do you know anything of
his history?"
"It's a cuckoo's,
sir. I know all about it -- except where he was born, and who were his parents,
and how he got his money at first. And Hareton has been cast out like an
unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate lad is the only one in all this parish that
does not guess how he has been cheated."
"Well, Mrs. Dean,
it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours. I feel I
shall not rest if I go to bed, so be good enough to sit and chat an hour."
"Oh, certainly,
sir! I'll just fetch a little sewing, and then I'll sit as long as you please.
But you've caught cold -- I saw you shivering; and you must have some gruel to
drive it out."
The worthy woman
bustled off, and I crouched nearer the fire. My head felt hot, and the rest of
me chill; moreover, I was excited, almost to a pitch of foolishness, through my
nerves and brain. This caused me to feel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful
(as I am still) of serious effects from the incidents of to-day and yesterday.
She returned presently, bringing a smoking basin and a basket of work; and
having placed the former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently pleased to
find me so companionable.
Before I came to live
here, she commenced -- waiting no further invitation to her story -- I was
almost always at Wuthering Heights, because my mother had nursed Mr. Hindley
Earnshaw (that was Hareton's father), and I got used to playing with the
children. I ran errands, too, and helped to make hay, and hung about the farm,
ready for anything that anybody would set me to. One fine summer morning -- it
was the beginning of harvest, I remember -- Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came
downstairs, dressed for a journey; and after he had told Joseph what was to be
done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me -- for I sat
eating my porridge with them -- and he said, speaking to his son, "Now, my
bonny man, I'm going to Liverpool to-day; what shall I bring you? You may
choose what you like. Only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back.
Sixty miles each way -- that is a long spell!" Hindley named a fiddle, and
then he asked Miss Cathy. She was hardly six years old, but she could ride any
horse in the stable, and she chose a whip. He did not forget me, for he had a
kind heart, though he was rather severe sometimes. He promised to bring me a
pocketful of apples and pears; and then he kissed his children, said good-bye,
and set off.
It seemed a long while
to us all -- the three days of his absence -- and often did little Cathy ask
when he would be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time on the third
evening, and she put the meal off hour after hour. There were no signs of his
coming, however, and at last the children got tired of running down to the gate
to look. Then it grew dark. She would have had them to bed, but they begged
sadly to be allowed to stay up; and just about eleven o'clock the door-latch
was raised quietly, and in stepped the master. He threw himself into a chair,
laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for he was nearly killed. He
would not have such another walk for the three kingdoms.
"And at the end of
it, to be flighted to death!" he said, opening his greatcoat, which he
held bundled up in his arms. "See here, wife! I was never so beaten with
anything in my life; but you must e'en take it as a gift of God, though it's as
dark almost as if it came from the devil."
We crowded round, and
over Miss Cathy's head I had a peep at a dirty, ragged, black-haired child, big
enough both to walk and talk. Indeed, its face looked older than Catherine's;
yet when it was set on its feet it only stared round, and repeated over and
over again some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and
Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors. She did fly up, asking how he
could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own
bairns to feed and fend for; what he meant to do with it, and whether he were
mad. The master tried to explain the matter; but he was really half dead with
fatigue, and all that I could make out, amongst her scolding, was a tale of his
seeing it starving, and houseless, and as good as dumb, in the streets of
Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Not a soul knew to
whom it belonged, he said; and his money and time being both limited, he
thought it better to take it home with him at once, than run into vain expenses
there, because he was determined be would not leave it as he found it. Well,
the conclusion was that my mistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw
told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with the
children.
Hindley and Cathy
contented themselves with looking and listening till peace was restored; then
both began searching their father's pockets for the presents he had promised
them. The former was a boy of fourteen, but when he drew out what had been a
fiddle, crushed to morsels in the greatcoat, he blubbered aloud; and Cathy,
when she learned the master had lost her whip in attending on the stranger,
showed her humour by grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing, earning
for her pains a sound blow from her father to teach her cleaner manners. They
entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room; and I had
no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping it might be
gone on the morrow. By chance, or else attracted by hearing his voice, it crept
to Mr. Earnshaw's door, and there he found it on quitting his chamber.
Inquiries were made as to how it got there. I was obliged to confess, and in
recompense for my cowardice and inhumanity was sent out of the house.
This was Heathcliff's
first introduction to the family. On coming back a few days afterwards (for I
did not consider my banishment perpetual) I found they had christened him
"Heathcliff." It was the name of a son who died in childhood, and it
has served him ever since, both for Christian and surname. Miss Cathy and he
were now very thick; but Hindley hated him, and, to say the truth, I did the
same; and we plagued and went on with him shamefully, for I wasn't reasonable
enough to feel my injustice, and the mistress never put in a word on his behalf
when she saw him wronged.
He seemed a sullen,
patient child, hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment. He would stand Hindley's
blows without winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved him only to draw
in a breath and open his eyes, as if he had hurt himself by accident and nobody
was to blame. This endurance made old Earnshaw furious when he discovered his
son persecuting the poor, fatherless child, as he called him. He took to
Heathcliff strangely, believing all he said (for that matter, he said precious
little, and generally the truth), and petting him up far above Cathy, who was
too mischievous and wayward for a favourite.
So from the very
beginning he bred bad feeling in the house; and at Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which
happened in less than two years after, the young master had learned to regard
his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of
his parent's affections and his privileges, and he grew bitter with brooding
over these injuries. I sympathized a while; but when the children fell ill of
the measles, and I had to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at
once, I changed my ideas. Heathcliff was dangerously sick; and while he lay at
the worst he would have me constantly by his pillow. I suppose he felt I did a
good deal for him, and he hadn't wit to guess that I was compelled to do it.
However, I will say this -- he was the quietest child that ever nurse watched
over. The difference between him and the others forced me to be less partial.
Cathy and her brother harassed me terribly; he was as uncomplaining as a lamb,
though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble.
He got through, and the
doctor affirmed it was in a great measure owing to me, and praised me for my
care. I was vain of his commendations, and softened towards the being by whose
means I earned them; and thus Hindley lost his last ally. Still I couldn't dote
on Heathcliff, and I wondered often what my master saw to admire so much in the
sullen boy, who never, to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of
gratitude. He was not insolent to his benefactor, he was simply insensible,
though knowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart, and conscious he had
only to speak and all the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes. As an
instance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw once bought a couple of colts at the parish
fair, and gave the lads each one. Heathcliff took the handsomest, but it soon
fell lame, and when he discovered it, he said to Hindley, --
"You must exchange
horses with me -- I don't like mine; and if you won't, I shall tell your father
of the three thrashings you've given me this week, and show him my arm, which
is black to the shoulder." Hindley put out his tongue and cuffed him over
the ears. "You'd better do it at once," he persisted, escaping to the
porch (they were in the stable). "You will have to; and if I speak of
these blows, you'll get them again with interest." "Off, dog!"
cried Hindley, threatening him with an iron weight used for weighing potatoes
and hay. "Throw it," he replied, standing still, "and then I'll
tell how you boasted that you would turn me out of doors as soon as he died,
and see whether he will not turn you out directly." Hindley threw it, hitting
him on the breast, and down he fell, but staggered up immediately, breathless
and white; and had I not prevented it, he would have gone just so to the
master, and got full revenge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating
who had caused it.
"Take my colt,
gipsy, then!" said young Earnshaw. "And I pray that he may break your
neck. Take him, and be damned, you beggarly interloper; and wheedle my father
out of all he has. Only afterwards show him what you are, imp of Satan. And
take that! I hope he'll kick out your brains!"
Heathcliff had gone to
loose the beast and shift it to his own stall. He was passing behind it, when
Hindley finished his speech by knocking him under its feet, and without
stopping to examine whether his hopes were fulfilled, ran away as fast as he
could.
I was surprised to
witness how coolly the child gathered himself up, and went on with his
intention -- exchanging saddles and all, and then sitting down on a bundle of
hay to overcome the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, before he entered
the house.
I persuaded him easily
to let me lay the blame of his bruises on the horse. He minded little what tale
was told, since he had what he wanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of such
stirs as these, that I really thought him not vindictive. I was deceived
completely, as you will hear.
In the course of time,
Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active and healthy, yet his strength
left him suddenly; and when he was confined to the chimney-corner he grew
grievously irritable. A nothing vexed him, and suspected slights of his
authority nearly threw him into fits.
This was especially to
be remarked if any one attempted to impose upon, or domineer over, his
favourite: he was painfully jealous lest a word should be spoken amiss to him,
seeming to have got into his head the notion that, because he liked Heathcliff,
all hated, and longed to do him an ill-turn.
It was a disadvantage
to the lad, for the kinder among us did not wish to fret the master, so we
humoured his partiality; and that humouring was rich nourishment to the child's
pride and black tempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice, or
thrice, Hindley's manifestations of scorn, while his father was near, roused
the old man to a fury. He seized his stick to strike him, and shook with rage
that he could not do it.
At last, our curate (we
had a curate then who made the living answer by teaching the little Lintons and
Earnshaws, and farming his bit of land himself) -- he advised that the young
man should be sent to college, and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy
spirit, for he said --
"Hindley was
naught, and would never thrive as where he wandered.
I hoped heartily we
should have peace now. It hurt me to think the master should be made
uncomfortable by his own good deed. I fancied the discontent of age and disease
arose from his family disagreements, as he would have it that it did. Really,
you know, sir, it was in his sinking frame.
We might have got on
tolerably, notwithstanding, but for two people -- Miss Cathy and Joseph the
servant. You saw him, I dare say, up yonder. He was, and is yet most likely,
the wearisomest self- righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to rake
the promises to himself and fling the curses to his neighbours. By his knack of
sermonizing and pious discoursing he contrived to make a great impression on
Mr. Earnshaw; and the more feeble the master became, the more influence he
gained.
He was relentless in
worrying him about his soul's concerns, and about ruling his children rigidly.
He encouraged him to regard Hindley as a reprobate; and night after night he
regularly grumbled out a long string of tales against Heathcliff and Catherine,
always minding to flatter Earnshaw's weakness by heaping the heaviest blame on
the latter.
Certainly she had ways
with her such as I never saw a child take up before; and she put all of us past
our patience fifty times and oftener in a day. From the hour she came
downstairs till the hour she went to bed we had not a minute's security that
she wouldn't be in mischief. Her spirits were always at high-water mark, her
tongue always going -- singing, laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not
do the same. A wild, wicked slip she was; but she had the bonniest eye, the
sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish. And, after all, I believe she
meant no harm; for when once she made you cry in good earnest, it seldom
happened that she would not keep you company, and oblige you to be quiet, that
you might comfort her. She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest
punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him; yet she
got chided more than any of us on his account. In play she liked exceedingly to
act the little mistress, using her hands freely, and commanding her companions.
She did so to me, but I would not bear shopping and ordering, and so I let her
know.
Now, Mr. Earnshaw did
not understand jokes from his children. He had always been strict and grave
with them; and Catherine, on her part, had no idea why her father should be
crosser and less patient in his ailing condition than he was in his prime. His
peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him. She was never
so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her
bold, saucy look and her ready words, turning Joseph's religious curses into
ridicule, baiting me, and doing just what her father hated most -- showing how
her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff
than his kindness; how the boy would do her bidding in anything, and his only
when it suited his own inclination. After behaving as badly as possible all
day, she sometimes came fondling to make it up at night. "Nay,
Cathy," the old man would say, "I cannot love thee; thou'rt worse
than thy brother. Go say thy prayers, child, and ask God's pardon. I doubt thy
mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!" That made her cry at
first; and then being repulsed continually hardened her, and she laughed if I
told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.
But the hour came at
last that ended Mr. Earnshaw's troubles on earth. He died quietly in his chair
one October evening, seated by the fireside. A high wind blustered round the
house and roared in the chimney. It sounded wild and stormy, yet it was not
cold, and we were all together -- I, a little removed from the hearth, busy at
my knitting, and Joseph reading his Bible near the table (for the servants
generally sat in the house then, after their work was done). Miss Cathy had
been sick, and that made her still. She leant against her father's knee, and
Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap.
I remember the master,
before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair -- it pleased him rarely to
see her gentle -- and saying --
"Why canst thou
not always be a good lass, Cathy?"
And she turned her face
up to his, and laughed, and answered --
"Why cannot you
always be a good man, father?"
But as soon as she saw
him vexed again, she kissed his hand, and said she would sing him to sleep. She
began singing very low, till his fingers dropped from hers, and his head sank
on his breast. Then I told her to hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake
him. We all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour, and should have done so
longer, only Joseph, having finished his chapter, got up and said that he must
rouse the master for prayers and bed. He stepped forward, and called him by
name, and touched his shoulder, but he would not move -- so he took the candle and
looked at him.
I thought there was
something wrong as he set down the light; and seizing the children each by an
arm, whispered them to "frame upstairs, and make little din -- they might
pray alone that evening -- he had summut to do."
"I shall bid
father good-night first," said Catherine, putting her arms round his neck,
before we could hinder her.
The poor thing
discovered her loss directly -- she screamed out --
"Oh, he's dead,
Heathcliff! he's dead!"
And they both set up a
heart-breaking cry.
I joined my wail to
theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what we could be thinking of to roar
in that way over a saint in heaven.
He told me to put on my
cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor and the parson. I could not guess the
use that either would be of, then. However, I went, through wind and rain, and
brought one, the doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in the
morning.
Leaving Joseph to
explain matters, I ran to the children's room; their door was ajar, I saw they
had never laid down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer, and did
not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting each other with
better thoughts than I could have hit on; no parson in the world ever pictured
heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk; and, while I sobbed
and listened, I could not help wishing we were all there safe together.
Mr. Hindley came home
to the funeral; and -- a thing that amazed us, and set the neighbours gossiping
right and left -- he brought a wife with him.
What she was, and where
she was born, he never informed us; probably, she had neither money nor name to
recommend her, or he would scarcely have kept the union from his father.
She was not one that
would have disturbed the house much on her own account. Every object she saw,
the moment she crossed the threshold, appeared to delight her; and every
circumstance that took place about her, except the preparing for the burial,
and the presence of the mourners.
I thought she was half
silly, from her behaviour while that went on; she ran into her chamber, and
made me come with her, though I should have been dressing the children; and
there she sat shivering and clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly --
"Are they gone yet
?"
Then she began
describing with hysterical emotion the effect it produced on her to see black;
and started, and trembled, and, at last, fell a weeping -- and when I asked
what was the matter ? answered, she didn't know; but she felt so afraid of
dying!
I imagined her as
little likely to die as myself. She was rather thin, but young, and fresh
complexioned, and her eyes sparkled as bright as diamonds. I did remark, to be
sure, that mounting the stairs made her breathe very quick, that the least
sudden noise set her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomely
sometimes: but I knew nothing of what these symptoms portended, and had no
impulse to sympathize with her. We don't in general take to foreigners here,
Mr. Lockwood, unless they take to us first.
Young Earnshaw was
altered considerably in the three years of his absence. He had grown sparer,
and lost his colour, and spoke and dressed quite differently; and, on the very
day of his return, he told Joseph and me we must thenceforth quarter ourselves
in the back-kitchen, and leave the house for him. Indeed, he would have
carpeted and papered a small spare room for a parlour; but his wife expressed
such pleasure at the white floor, and huge glowing fire-place, at the pewter
dishes, and delf-case, and dog-kennel, and the wide space there was to move
about in, where they usually sat, that he thought it unnecessary to her
comfort, and so dropped the intention.
She expressed pleasure,
too, at finding a sister among her new acquaintance, and she prattled to
Catherine and kissed her and ran about with her, and gave her quantities of
presents, at the beginning. Her affection tired very soon, however, and when
she grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical. A few words from her, evincing a
dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his old hatred of the
boy. He drove him from their company to the servants, deprived him of the
instructions of the curate and insisted that he should labour out of doors
instead, compelling him to do so, as hard as any other lad on the farm.
Heathcliff bore his
degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy taught him what she learnt, and
worked or played with him in the fields. They both promised fair to grow up as
rude as savages, the young master being entirely negligent how they behaved,
and what they did, so they kept clear of him. He would not even have seen after
their going to church on Sundays, only Joseph and the curate reprimanded his
carelessness when they absented themselves, and that reminded him to order
Heathcliff a flogging, and Catherine a fast from dinner or supper.
But it was one of their
chief amusements to run away to the moors in the morning and remain there all
day, and the after- punishment grew a mere thing to laugh at. The curate might
set as many chapters as he pleased for Catherine to get by heart, and Joseph
might thrash Heathcliff till his arm ached; they forgot everything the minute
they were together again, at least the minute they contrived some naughty plan
of revenge; and many a time I've cried to myself to watch them growing more
reckless daily, and I not daring to speak a syllable for fear of losing the
small power I still retained over the unfriended creatures.
One Sunday evening, it
chanced that they were banished from the sitting-room, for making a noise, or a
light offence of the kind, and when I went to call them to supper, I could
discover them nowhere.
We searched the house,
above and below, and the yard and stables; they were invisible; and, at last,
Hindley in a passion told us to bolt the doors, and swore nobody should let
them in that night.
The household went to
bed; and I, too anxious to lie down, opened my lattice and put my head out to
hearken, though it rained, determined to admit them in spite of the prohibition,
should they return.
In a while, I
distinguished steps coming up the road, and the light of a lantern glimmered
through the gate.
I threw a shawl over my
head and ran to prevent them from waking Mr. Earnshaw by knocking. There was
Heathcliff, by himself; it gave me a start to see him alone.
"Where is Miss
Catherine?" I cried hurriedly. "No accident, I hope?"
"At Thrushcross
Grange," he answered, "and I would have been there too, but they had
not the manners to ask me to stay."
"Well, you will
catch it!" I said, "you'll never be content will you're sent about
your business. What in the world led you wandering to Thrushcross Grange?"
"Let me get off my
wet clothes, and I'll tell you all about it, Nelly," he replied.
I bid him beware of
rousing the master, and while he undressed, and I waited to put out the candle,
he continued --
"Cathy and I
escaped from the wash-house to have a ramble at liberty, and getting a glimpse
of the Grange lights, we thought we would just go and see whether the Lintons
passed their Sunday evenings standing shivering in corners, while their father
and mother sat eating and drinking, and singing and laughing, and burning their
eyes out before the fire. Do you think they do? Or reading sermons, and being
catechised by their man-servant, and set to learn a column of Scripture names,
if they don't answer properly?"
"Probably
not," I responded. "They are good children, no doubt, and don't
deserve the treatment you receive, for your bad conduct."
"Don't you cant,
Nelly" he said. "Nonsense! We ran from the top of the Heights to the
park, without stopping -- Catherine completely beaten in the race, because she
was barefoot. You'll have to seek for her shoes in the bog to-morrow. We crept
through a broken hedge, groped our way up the path, and planted ourselves on a
flower-plot under the drawing-room window. The light came from thence; they had
not put up the shutters, and the curtains were only half closed. Both of us
were able to look in by standing on the basement, and clinging to the ledge,
and we saw -- ah! it was beautiful -- a splendid place carpeted with crimson,
and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered by
gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the centre, and
shimmering with little soft tapers. Old Mr. and Mrs. Linton were not there.
Edgar and his sister had it entirely to themselves; shouldn't they have been
happy? We should have thought ourselves in heaven! And new, guess what your
good children were doing? Isabella -- I believe she is eleven, a year younger
than Cathy -- lay screaming at the farther end of the room, shrieking as if
witches were running red hot needles into her. Edgar stood on the hearth
weeping silently, and in the middle of the table sat a little dog shaking its
paw and yelping, which from their mutual accusations, we understood they had
nearly pulled in two between them. The idiots! That was their pleasure -- to
quarrel who should hold a heap of warm hair, and each begin to cry because
both, after struggling to get it, refused to take it. We laughed outright at
the petted things. We did despise them. When would you catch me wishing to have
what Catherine wanted, or find us by ourselves seeking entertainment in
yelling, and sobbing, and rolling on the ground, divided by the whole room? I'd
not exchange for a thousand lives my condition here for Edgar Linton's at
Thrushcross Grange -- not if I might have the privilege of flinging Joseph off
the highest gable, and painting the house-front with Hindley's blood!"
"Hush, hush!"
I interrupted. "Still you have not told me, Heathcliff, how Catherine is
left behind."
"I told you we
laughed," he answered. "The Lintons heard us, and with one accord
they shot like arrows to the door. There was silence, and then a cry, 'O mamma,
mamma! O papa! O mamma, come here. O papa, oh!' They really did howl out
something in that way. We made frightful noises to terrify them still more, and
then we dropped off the ledge because somebody was drawing the bars, and we
felt we had better flee. I had Cathy by the hand, and was urging her on, when
all at once she fell down. 'Run, Heathcliff, run!' she whispered. 'They have
let the bull-dog loose, and he holds me!' The devil had seized her ankle,
Nelly; I heard his abominable snorting. She did not yell out -- no! she would
have scorned to do it if she had been spitted on the horns of a mad cow. I did,
though. I vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in Christendom; and
I got a stone and thrust it between his jaws, and tried with all my might to
cram it down his throat. A beast of a servant came up with a lantern at last,
shouting, 'Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast!' He changed his note, however, when
he saw Skulker's game. The dog was throttled off, his huge purple tongue
hanging half a foot out of his mouth, and his pendent lips streaming with
bloody slaver. The man took Cathy up. She was sick -- not from fear, I'm
certain, but from pain. He carried her in. I followed, grumbling execrations
and vengeance. 'What prey, Robert?' hallooed Linton from the entrance. 'Skulker
has caught a little girl, sir,' he replied; 'and there's a lad here,' he added,
making a clutch at me, 'who looks an out-and-outer. Very like, the robbers were
for putting them through the window to open the doors to the gang after all
were asleep, that they might murder us at their ease -- Hold your tongue, you
foul-mouthed thief, you! You shall go to the gallows for this -- Mr. Linton,
sir, don't lay by your gun.' 'No, no, Robert,' said the old fool. 'The rascals
knew that yesterday was my rent-day. They thought to have me cleverly. Come in;
I'll furnish them a reception. --- There, John, fasten the chain -- Give
Skulker some water, Jenny. To beard a magistrate in his stronghold, and on the Sabbath,
too! Where will their insolence stop? -- Oh, my dear Mary, look here! Don't be
afraid; it is but a boy, yet the villain scowls so plainly in his face; would
it not be a kindness to the country to hang him at once, before he shows his
nature in acts as well as features?' He pulled me under the chandelier, and
Mrs. Linton placed her spectacles on her nose and raised her hands in horror.
The cowardly children crept nearer also, Isabella lisping, 'Frightful thing!
Put him in the cellar, papa. He's exactly like the son of the fortune-teller
that stole my tame pheasant. -- Isn't he, Edgar?'
"While they
examined me Cathy came round. She heard the last speech, and laughed. Edgar
Linton, after an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient wit to recognize her.
They see us at church, you know, though we seldom meet them elsewhere. 'That's
Miss Earnshaw!' he whispered to his mother; 'and look how Skulker has bitten
her -- how her foot bleeds!'
" 'Miss Earnshaw!
Nonsense!' cried the dame; 'Miss Earnshaw scouring the country with a gipsy!
And yet, my dear, the child is in mourning. Surely it is. And she may be lamed
for life.'
" 'What culpable
carelessness in her brother!' exclaimed Mr. Linton, turning from me to
Catherine. 'I've understood from Shielders' " (that was the curate, sir)
" 'that he lets her grow up in absolute heathenism. But who is this? Where
did she pick up this companion? Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition
my late neighbour made in his journey to Liverpool -- a little Lascar, or an
American or Spanish castaway.'
" 'A wicked boy,
at all events,' remarked the old lady, 'and quite unfit for a decent house! Did
you notice his language, Linton? I'm shocked that my children should have heard
it.'
"I recommenced
cursing -- don't be angry, Nelly -- and so Robert was ordered to take me off. I
refused to go without Cathy. He dragged me into the garden, pushed the lantern
into my hand, assured me that Mr. Earnshaw should be informed of my behaviour,
and bidding me march directly, secured the door again. The curtains were still
looped up at one corner, and I resumed my station as spy; because, if Catherine
had wished to return, I intended shattering their great glass panes to a
million of fragments, unless they let her out. She sat on the sofa quietly.
Mrs. Linton took off the gray cloak of the dairymaid which we had borrowed for
our excursion, shaking her head and expostulating with her, I suppose. She was
a young lady, and they made a distinction between her treatment and mine. Then
the woman-servant brought a basin of warm water, and washed her feet; and Mr.
Linton mixed a tumbler of negus, and Isabella emptied a plateful of cakes into
her lap, and Edgar stood gaping at a distance. Afterwards they dried and combed
her beautiful hair, and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her
to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be, dividing her food
between the little dog and Skulker, whose nose she pinched as he ate, and
kindling a spark of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons -- a dim
reflection from her own enchanting face. I saw they were full of stupid
admiration; she is so immeasurably superior to them -- to everybody on earth,
is she not, Nelly?"
"There will more
come of this business than you reckon on," I answered, covering him up and
extinguishing the light. "You are incurable, Heathcliff; and Mr. Hindley
will have to proceed to extremities -- see if he won't."
My words came truer
than I desired. The luckless adventure made Earnshaw furious. And then Mr.
Linton, to mend matters, paid us a visit himself on the morrow, and read the
young master such a lecture on the road he guided his family that he was
stirred to look about him in earnest.
Heathcliff received no
flogging, but he was told that the first word he spoke to Miss Catherine should
ensure a dismissal; and Mrs. Earnshaw undertook to keep her sister-in-law in
due restraint when she returned home, employing art, not force. With force she
would have found it impossible.
Cathy stayed at
Thrushcross Grange five weeks, till Christmas. By that time her ankle was
thoroughly cured, and her manners much improved. The mistress visited her
often, in the interval, and commenced her plan of reform by trying to raise her
self-respect with fine clothes and flattery, which she took readily: so that,
instead of a wild, hatless little savage jumping into the house, and rushing to
squeeze us all breathless, there lighted from a handsome black pony a very
dignified person, with brown ringlets falling from the cover of a feathered
beaver, and a long cloth habit which she was obliged to hold up with both hands
that she might sail in.
Hindley lifted her from
her horse, exclaiming delightedly,
"Why, Cathy, you
are quite a beauty! I should scarcely have known you -- you look like a lady
now -- Isabella Linton is not to be compared with her, is she, Frances ?"
"Isabella has not
her natural advantages," replied his wife, "but she must mind and not
grow wild again here. Ellen, help Miss Catherine off with her things -- Stay,
dear, you will disarrange your curls -- let me untie your hat."
I removed the habit,
and there shone forth beneath, a grand plaid silk frock, white trousers, and
burnished shoes; and, while her eyes sparkled joyfully when the dogs came
bounding up to welcome her, she dare hardly touch them lest they should fawn
upon her splendid garments.
She kissed me gently --
I was all flour making the Christmas cake, and it would not have done to give
me a hug; and then she looked round for Heathcliff. Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw
watched anxiously their meeting, thinking it would enable them to judge, in
some measure, what grounds they had for hoping to succeed in separating the two
friends.
Heathcliff was hard to
discover at first. If he were careless and uncared for before Catherine's
absence, he had been ten times more so since. Nobody but I even did him the
kindness to call him a dirty boy, and bid him wash himself, once a week; and
children of his age seldom have a natural pleasure in soap and water.
Therefore, not to mention his clothes, which had seen three months' service in
mire and dust, and his thick uncombed hair, the surface of his face and hands
was dismally beclouded. He might well skulk behind the settle, on beholding
such a bright, graceful damsel enter the house, instead of a rough-headed
counterpart of himself, as he expected. "Is Heathcliff not here?" she
demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully whitened
with doing nothing and staying indoors.
"Heathcliff, you
may come forward," cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his discomfiture, and
gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard he would be compelled to
present himself. "You may come and wish Miss Catherine welcome, like the
other servants."
Cathy, catching a
glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to embrace him. She bestowed
seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the second, and then stopped, and
drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaiming, "Why, how very black and
cross you look! and how -- how funny and grim! But that's because I'm used to
Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?"
She had some reason to
put the question, for shame and pride threw double gloom over his countenance,
and kept him immovable.
"Shake hands,
Heathcliff," said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; "once in away that
is permitted."
"I shall
not," replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; "I shall not stand
to be laughed at. I shall not bear it."
And he would have
broken from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him again.
"I did not mean to
laugh at you," she said; "I could not hinder myself. Heathcliff,
shake hands at least. What are you sulky for? It was only that you looked odd.
If you wash your face and brush your hair it will be all right; but you are so
dirty!"
She gazed concernedly
at the dusky fingers she held in her own, and also at her dress, which she
feared had gained no embellishment from its contact with his.
"You needn't have
touched me," he answered, following her eye and snatching away his hand.
"I shall be as dirty as I please; and I like to be dirty, and I will be
dirty."
With that he dashed
head foremost out of the room, amid the merriment of the master and mistress,
and to the serious disturbance of Catherine, who could not comprehend how her
remarks should have produced such an exhibition of bad temper.
After playing
lady's-maid to the newcomer, and putting my cakes in the oven, and making the
house and kitchen cheerful with great fires, befitting Christmas Eve, I
prepared to sit down and amuse myself by singing carols all alone, regardless
of Joseph's affirmations that he considered the merry tunes I chose as next
door to songs. He had retired to private prayer in his chamber, and Mr. and
Mrs. Earnshaw were engaging Missy's attention by sundry gay trifles bought for
her to present to the little Lintons, as an acknowledgment of their kindness.
They had invited them to spend the morrow at Wuthering Heights, and the
invitation had been accepted, on one condition. Mrs. Linton begged that her
darlings might be kept carefully apart from that "naughty, swearing
boy."
Under these
circumstances I remained solitary. I smelt the rich scent of the heating
spices, and admired the shining kitchen utensils, the polished clock, decked in
holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray ready to be filled with mulled ale for
supper, and, above all, the speckless purity of my particular care -- the
scoured and well-swept floor. I gave due inward applause to every object, and
then I remembered how old Earnshaw used to come in when all was tidied, and
call me a cant lass, and slip a shilling into my hand as a Christmas-box; and
from that I went on to think of his fondness for Heathcliff, and his dread lest
he should suffer neglect after death had removed him; and that naturally led me
to consider the poor lad's situation now, and from singing I changed my mind to
crying. It struck me soon, however, there would be more sense in endeavouring
to repair some of his wrongs than shedding tears over them. I got up and walked
into the court to seek him. He was not far. I found him smoothing the glossy
coat of the new pony in the stable, and feeding the other beasts, according to
custom.
"Make haste,
Heathcliff!" I said; "the kitchen is so comfortable, and Joseph is
upstairs. Make haste, and let me dress you smart before Miss Cathy comes out,
and then you can sit together, with the whole hearth to yourselves, and have a
long chatter till bedtime."
He proceeded with his
task, and never turned his head towards me.
"Come; are you
coming?" I continued. "There's a little cake for each of you, nearly
enough; and you'll need half an hour's donning."'
I waited five minutes,
but getting no answer left him. Catherine supped with her brother and sister-in-law.
Joseph and I joined at an unsociable meal, seasoned with reproofs on one side
and sauciness on the other. His cake and cheese remained on the table all night
for the fairies. He managed to continue work till nine o'clock, and then
marched dumb and dour to his chamber. Cathy sat up late, having a world of
things to order for the reception of her new friends. She came into the kitchen
once to speak to her old one; but he was gone, and she only stayed to ask what
was the matter with him, and then went back. In the morning he rose early; and
as it was a holiday carried his ill-humour on to the moors, not reappearing
till the family were departed for church. Fasting and reflection seemed to have
brought him to a better spirit. He hung about me for a while, and having
screwed up his courage, exclaimed abruptly, --
"Nelly, make me
decent; I'm going to be good."
"High time,
Heathcliff," I said; "you have grieved Catherine. She's sorry she
ever came home, I dare say. It looks as if you envied her because she is more
thought of than you."
The notion of envying
Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the notion of grieving her he
understood clearly enough.
"Did she say she
was grieved?" he inquired, looking very serious.
"She cried when I
told her you were off again this morning."
"Well, I cried
last night," he returned, "and I had more reason to cry than
she."
"Yes. You had the
reason of going to bed with a proud heart and an empty stomach," said I.
"Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But, if you be ashamed of
your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in. You must go up
and offer to kiss her, and say -- you know best what to say; only do it
heartily, and not as if you thought her converted into a stranger by her grand dress.
And now, though I have dinner to get ready, I'll steal time to arrange you so
that Edgar Linton shall look quite a doll beside you; and that he does. You are
younger, and yet, I'll be bound, you are taller and twice as broad across the
shoulders. You could knock him down in a twinkling. Don't you feel that you
could?"
Heathcliff's face
brightened a moment; then it was overcast afresh, and he sighed.
"But, Nelly, if I
knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn't make him less handsome or me more
so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed and behaved as
well, and had a chance of being as rich as he will be."
"And cried for
mamma at every turn," I added, "and trembled if a country lad heaved
his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower of rain. Oh,
Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to the glass, and I'll let you
see what you should wish. Do you mark those two lines between your eyes; and
those thick brows that, instead of rising arched, sink in the middle; and that
couple of black fiends, so deeply buried, who never open their windows boldly,
but lurk glinting under them, like devil's spies? Wish and learn to smooth away
the surly wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to
confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing
friends where they are not sure of foes. Don't get the expression of a vicious
cur that appears to know the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet hates all
the world as well as the kicker for what it suffers."
"In other words, I
must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes and even forehead," he
replied. "I do, and that won't help me to them."
"A good heart will
help you to a bonny face, my lad," I continued, "if you were a
regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than
ugly. And now that we've done washing, and combing, and sulking, tell me
whether you don't think yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you I do. You're
fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows but your father was Emperor of China,
and your mother an Indian queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week's
income, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were
kidnapped by wicked sailors and brought to England. Were I in your place, I
would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should
give me courage and dignity to support the oppressions of a little
farmer."
So I chattered on; and
Heathcliff gradually lost his frown and began to look quite pleasant, when all
at once our conversation was interrupted by a rumbling sound moving up the road
and entering the court. He ran to the window and I to the door, just in time to
behold the two Lintons descend from the family carriage, smothered in cloaks
and furs, and the Earnshaws dismount from their horses. They often rode to
church in winter. Catherine took a hand of each of the children, and brought
them into the house and set them before the fire, which quickly put colour into
their white faces.
I urged my companion to
hasten now and show his amiable humour, and he willingly obeyed; but ill luck
would have it that, as he opened the door leading from the kitchen on one side,
Hindley opened it on the other. They met, and the master, irritated at seeing
him clean and cheerful, or, perhaps, eager to keep his promise to Mrs. Linton,
shoved him back with a sudden thrust, and angrily bade Joseph "keep the
fellow out of the room; send him into the garret till dinner is over. He'll be
cramming his fingers in the tarts and stealing the fruit, if left alone with
them a minute."
"Nay, sir," I
could not avoid answering; "he'll touch nothing --- not he; and I suppose
he must have his share of the dainties as well as we."
"He shall have his
share of my hand if I catch him downstairs till dark," cried Hindley --
"Begone, you vagabond! What! you are attempting the coxcomb, are you? Wait
till I get hold of those elegant locks; see if I won't pull them a bit
longer."
"They are long
enough already," observed Master Linton, peeping from the doorway; "I
wonder they don't make his head ache. It's like a colt's mane over his
eyes."
He ventured this remark
without any intention to insult; but Heathcliff's violent nature was not
prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence from one whom he seemed to
hate, even then, as a rival. He seized a tureen of hot apple sauce -- the first
thing that came under his gripe -- and dashed it full against the speaker's
face and neck, who instantly commenced a lament that brought Isabella and
Catherine hurrying to the place. Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly,
and conveyed him to his chamber, where, doubtless, he administered a rough
remedy to cool the fit of passion, for he appeared red and breathless. I got
the dish-cloth, and rather spitefully scrubbed Edgar's nose and mouth,
affirming it served him right for meddling. His sister began weeping to go
home, and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.
"You should not
have spoken to him!" she expostulated with Master Linton. "He was in
a bad temper; and now you've spoilt your visit, and he'll be flogged. I hate
him to be flogged. I can't eat my dinner. Why did you speak to him,
Edgar?"
"I didn't,"
sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands and finishing the remainder of the
purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief. "I promised mamma that
I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't."
"Well, don't
cry," replied Catherine contemptuously; "you're not killed. Don't make
more mischief. My brother is coming; be quiet! -- Hush, Isabella! Has anybody
hurt you?"
"There, there,
children; to your seats," cried Hindley, bustling in. "That brute of
a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master Edgar, take the law into your own
fists; it will give you an appetite."
The little party
recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant feast. They were hungry after
their ride, and easily consoled, since no real harm had befallen them. Mr.
Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls, and the mistress made them merry with
lively talk. I waited behind her chair, and was pained to behold Catherine,
with dry eyes and an indifferent air, commence cutting up the wing of a goose
before her. "An unfeeling child," I thought to myself; "how
lightly she dismisses her old playmate's troubles! I could not have imagined
her to be so selfish." She lifted a mouthful to her lips, then she set it
down again; her cheeks flushed, and the tears gushed over them. She slipped her
fork to the floor, and hastily dived under the cloth to conceal her emotion. I
did not call her unfeeling long, for I perceived she was in purgatory
throughout the day, and wearying to find an opportunity of getting by herself,
or paying a visit to Heathcliff, who had been locked up by the master, as I
discovered, on endeavouring to introduce to him a private mess of victuals.
In the evening we had a
dance. Cathy begged that he might be liberated then, as Isabella Linton had no
partner. Her entreaties were vain, and I was appointed to supply the
deficiency. We got rid of all gloom in the excitement of the exercise, and our
pleasure was increased by the arrival of the Gimmerton band, mustering fifteen
strong -- a trumpet, a trombone, clarionets, bassoons, French horns, and a bass
viol, besides singers. They go the rounds of all the respectable houses, and
receive contributions every Christmas, and we esteemed it a first-rate treat to
hear them. After the usual carols had been sung, we set them to songs and
glees. Mrs. Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave us plenty.
Catherine loved it too,
but she said it sounded sweetest at the top of the steps, and she went up in
the dark; I followed. They shut the house door below, never noting our absence,
it was so full of people. She made no stay at the stairs' head, but mounted
farther to the garret where Heathcliff was confined, and called him. He
stubbornly declined answering for a while; she persevered, and finally
persuaded him to hold communion with her through the boards. I let the poor things
converse unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going to cease, and the
singers to get some refreshment; then I clambered up the ladder to warn her.
Instead of finding her outside, I heard her voice within. The little monkey had
crept by the skylight of one garret, along the roof, into the skylight of the
other, and it was with the utmost difficulty I could coax her out again. When
she did come, Heathcliff came with her, and she insisted that I should take him
into the kitchen, as my fellow-servant had gone to a neighbour's to be removed
from the sound of our "devil's psalmody," as it pleased him to call
it. I told them I intended by no means to encourage their tricks, but as the
prisoner had never broken his fast since yesterday's dinner, I would wink at
his cheating Mr. Hindley that once. He went down. I set him a stool by the
fire, and offered him a quantity of good things; but he was sick, and could eat
little, and my attempts to entertain him were thrown away. He leant his two
elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands, and remained wrapt in dumb
meditation. On my inquiring the subject of his thoughts he answered gravely, --
"I'm trying to
settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I wait, if I can
only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do!"
"For shame,
Heathcliff!" said I "It is for God to punish wicked people; we should
learn to forgive."
"No; God won't
have the satisfaction that I shall," he returned. "I only wish I knew
the best way. Let me alone, and I'll plan it out; while I'm thinking of that I
don't feel pain."
But, Mr. Lockwood, I
forget these tales cannot divert you. I'm annoyed how I should dream of
chattering on at such a rate, and your gruel cold, and you nodding for bed! I
could have told Heathcliff's history -- all that you need hear -- in half a
dozen words.
Thus interrupting
herself, the housekeeper rose and proceeded to lay aside her sewing; but I felt
incapable of moving from the hearth, and I was very far from nodding. "Sit
still, Mrs. Dean," I cried, "do sit still another half-hour! You've
done just right to tell the story leisurely -- that is the method I like; and
you must finish it in the same style. I am interested in every character you
have mentioned, more or less."
"The clock is on
the stroke of eleven, sir."
"No matter. I'm
not accustomed to go to bed in the long hours. One or two is early enough for a
person who lies till ten."
"You shouldn't lie
till ten. There's the very prime of the morning gone long before that time. A person
who has not done one half his day's work by ten o'clock runs a chance of
leaving the other half undone."
"Nevertheless,
Mrs. Dean, resume your chair, because to-morrow I intend lengthening the night
till afternoon. I prognosticate for myself an obstinate cold, at least."
"I hope not, sir.
Well, you must allow me to leap over some three years. During that space Mrs.
Earnshaw -- "
"No, no; I'll
allow nothing of the sort. Are you acquainted with the mood of mind in which,
if you were seated alone, and the cat licking its kitten on the rug before you,
you would watch the operation so intently that puss's neglect of one ear would
put you seriously out of temper?"
"A terribly lazy
mood, I should say."
"On the contrary,
a tiresomely active one. It is mine at present; and, therefore, continue
minutely. I perceive that people in these regions acquire over people in towns
the value that a spider in a dungeon does over a spider in a cottage, to their
various occupants; and yet the deepened attraction is not entirely owing to the
situation of the looker-on. They do live more in earnest, more in themselves,
and less in surface, change, and frivolous external things. I could fancy a
love for life here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever in any love of
a year's standing. One state resembles setting a hungry man down to a single
dish, on which he may concentrate his entire appetite and do it justice; the
other, introducing him to a table laid out by French cooks. He can perhaps
extract as much enjoyment from the whole, but each part is a mere atom in his
regard and remembrance."
"Oh, here we are
the same as anywhere else, when you get to know us," observed Mrs. Dean,
somewhat puzzled at my speech.
"Excuse me,"
I responded. "You, my good friend, are a striking evidence against that
assertion. Excepting a few provincialisms of slight consequence, you have no
marks of the manners which I am habituated to consider as peculiar to your
class. I am sure you have thought a great deal more than the generality of
servants think. You have been compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties,
for want of occasions for frittering your life away in silly trifles."
Mrs. Dean laughed.
"I certainly
esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body," she said -- "not
exactly from living among the hills and seeing one set of faces and one series
of actions from year's end to year's end, but I have undergone sharp
discipline, which has taught me wisdom; and then, I have read more than you
would fancy, Mr. Lockwood. You could not open a book in this library that I
have not looked into, and got something out of also -- unless it be that range
of Greek and Latin, and that of French; and those I know one from another. It
is as much as you can expect of a poor man's daughter. However, if I am to
follow my story in true gossip's fashion, I had better go on; and instead of
leaping three years, I will be content to pass to the next summer -- the summer
of 1778; that is nearly twenty-three years ago."
On the morning of a
fine June day, my first bonny little nursling, and the last of the ancient
Earnshaw stock, was born.
We were busy with the
hay in a far away field, when the girl that usually brought our breakfasts came
running, an hour too soon, across the meadow and up the lane, calling me as she
ran.
"Oh, such a grand
bairn!" she panted out. "The finest lad that ever breathed! But the
doctor says missis must go; he says she's been in a consumption these many
months. I heard him tell Mr. Hindley -- and now she has nothing to keep her,
and she'll be dead before winter. You must come home directly. You're to nurse
it, Nelly -- to feed it with sugar and milk, and take care of it, day and night
-- I wish I were you, because it will be all yours when there is no
missis!"
"But is she very
ill?" I asked, flinging down my rake, and tying my bonnet.
"I guess she is;
yet she looks bravely," replied the girl, "and she talks as if she
thought of living to see it grow a man. She's out of her head for joy, it's such
a beauty ! If I were her I'm certain I should not die. I should get better at
the bare- sight of it, in spite of Kenneth. I was fairly mad at him. Dame
Archer brought the cherub down to master, in the house, and his face just began
to light up, then the old croaker steps forward, and, says he: -- 'Earnshaw,
it's a blessing your wife has been spared to leave you this son. When she came,
I felt convinced we shouldn't keep her long; and now, I must tell you, the
winter will probably finish her. Don't take on and fret about it too much. It
can't be helped. And besides, you should have known better than to choose such
a rush of a lass!'"
"And what did the
master answer?" I inquired.
"I think he swore;
but I didn't mind him -- I was straining to see the bairn." And she began
again to describe it rapturously. I, as zealous as herself, hurried eagerly
home to admire, on my part, though I was very sad for Hindley's sake. He had
room in his heart only for two idols -- his wife and himself. He doted on both,
and adored one, and I couldn't conceive how he would bear the loss.
When we got to
Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door; and, as I passed in, I
asked, "How was the baby?"
"Nearly ready to
run about, Nell!" he replied, putting on a cheerful smile.
"And the
mistress?" I ventured to inquire; "the doctor says she's ---- "
"Damn the
doctor!" he interrupted, reddening. "Frances is quite right; she'll
be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell
her that I'll come, if she'll promise not to talk. I left her because she would
not hold her tongue; and she must. Tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be
quiet."
I delivered this
message to Mrs. Earnshaw. She seemed in flighty spirits, and replied merrily,
--
"I hardly spoke a
word, Ellen, and there he has gone out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I
won't speak; but that does not bind me not to laugh at him."
Poor soul! Till within
a week of her death that gay heart never failed her, and her husband persisted
doggedly -- nay, furiously -- in affirming her health improved every day. When
Kenneth warned him that his medicines were useless at that stage of the malady,
and he needn't put him to further expense by attending her, he retorted, --
"I know you need
not; she's well -- she does not want any more attendance from you! She never
was in a consumption. It was a fever, and it is gone; her pulse is as slow as
mine now, and her cheek as cool."
He told his wife the
same story, and she seemed to believe him; but one night, while leaning on his
shoulder in the act of saying she thought she should be able to get up
to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her -- a very slight one. He raised her in
his arms; she put her two hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.
As the girl had
anticipated, the child Hareton fell wholly into my hands. Mr. Earnshaw,
provided he saw him healthy, and never heard him cry, was contented, as far as
regarded him. For himself, he grew desperate; his sorrow was of that kind that
will not lament. He neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied -- execrated
God and man, and gave himself up to reckless dissipation. The servants could
not bear his tyrannical and evil conduct long. Joseph and I were the only two
that would stay. I had not the heart to leave my charge; and besides, you know
I had been his foster-sister, and excused his behaviour more readily than a
stranger would. Joseph remained to hector over tenants and labourers, and
because it was his vocation to be where he had plenty of wickedness to reprove.
The master's bad ways
and bad companions formed a pretty example for Catherine and Heathcliff. His
treatment of the latter was enough to make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, it
appeared as if the lad were possessed of something diabolical at that period.
He delighted to witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption, and became
daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity. I could not half tell
what an infernal house we had. The curate dropped calling, and nobody decent
came near us at last, unless Edgar Linton's visits to Miss Cathy might be an
exception. At fifteen she was the queen of the countryside; she had no peer,
and she did turn out a haughty, headstrong creature! I own I did not like her
after her infancy was past, and I vexed her frequently by trying to bring down
her arrogance; she never took an aversion to me, though. She had a wondrous
constancy to old attachments -- even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections
unalterably; and young Linton, with all his superiority, found it difficult to
make an equally deep impression. He was my late master; that is his portrait
over the fireplace. It used to hang on one side, and his wife's on the other;
but hers has been removed, or else you might see something of what she was. Can
you make that out?
Mrs. Dean raised the
candle, and I discerned a soft- featured face, exceedingly resembling the young
lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a
sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes
were large and serious, the figure almost too graceful. I did not marvel how
Catherine Earnshaw could forget her first friend for such an individual. I
marvelled much how he, with a mind to correspond with his person, could fancy
my idea of Catherine Earnshaw.
"A very agreeable
portrait," I observed to the house- keeper. "Is it like?"
"Yes," she
answered; "but he looked better when he was animated. That is his everyday
countenance. He wanted spirit in general."
Catherine had kept up
her acquaintance with the Lintons since her five weeks' residence among them;
and as she had no temptation to show her rough side in their company, and had
the sense to be ashamed of being rude where she experienced such invariable
courtesy, she imposed unwittingly on the old lady and gentleman by her
ingenious cordiality, gained the admiration of Isabella, and the heart and soul
of her brother -- acquisitions that flattered her from the first, for she was
full of ambition, and led her to adopt a double character without exactly
intending to deceive any one. In the place where she heard Heathcliff termed a
"vulgar young ruffian," and "worse than a brute," she took
care not to act like him; but at home she had small inclination to practise politeness
that would only be laughed at, and restrain an unruly nature when it would
bring her neither credit nor praise.
Mr. Edgar seldom
mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had a terror of
Earnshaw's reputation, and shrank from encountering him; and yet he was always
received with our best attempts at civility. The master himself avoided
offending him, knowing why he came; and if he could not be gracious, kept out
of the way. I rather think his appearance there was distasteful to Catherine.
She was not artful, never played the coquette, and had evidently an objection
to her two friends meeting at all; for when Heathcliff expressed contempt of
Linton in his presence, she could not half coincide as she did in his absence;
and when Linton evinced disgust and antipathy to Heathcliff, she dared not
treat his sentiments with indifference, as if depreciation of her playmate were
of scarcely any consequence to her. I've had many a laugh at her perplexities
and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery. That
sounds ill-natured, but she was so proud it became really impossible to pity
her distresses, till she should be chastened into more humility. She did bring
herself, finally, to confess, and to confide in me. There was not a soul else
that she might fashion into an adviser.
Mr. Hindley had gone
from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed to give himself a holiday on
the strength of it. He had reached the age of sixteen then, I think, and
without having bad features or being deficient in intellect, he contrived to
convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness that his present
aspect retains no traces of. In the first place, he had by that time lost the
benefit of his early education. Continual hard work, begun soon and concluded
late, had extinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit of knowledge,
and any love for books or learning. His childhood's sense of superiority
instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw was faded away. He struggled
long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, and yielded with
poignant though silent regret; but he yielded completely, and there was no
prevailing on him to take a step in the way of moving upward, when he found he
must necessarily sink beneath his former level. Then personal appearance
sympathized with mental deterioration. He acquired a slouching gait and ignoble
look; his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic
excess of unsociable moroseness, and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in
exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintance.
Catherine and he were
constant companions still at his seasons of respite from labour, but he had
ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry
suspicion from her girlish caresses, as if conscious there could be no
gratification in lavishing such marks of affection on him. On the before-named
occasion he came into the house to announce his intention of doing nothing,
while I was assisting Miss Cathy to arrange her dress. She had not reckoned on
his taking it into his head to be idle, and imagining she would have the whole
place to herself, she managed, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her
brother's absence, and was then preparing to receive him.
"Cathy, are you
busy this afternoon?" asked Heathcliff. "Are you going
anywhere?"
"No; it is
raining," she answered.
"Why have you that
silk frock on, then?" he said. "Nobody coming here, I hope?"
"Not that I know
of," stammered miss; "but you should be in the field now, Heathcliff.
It is an hour past dinner-time. I thought you were gone."
"Hindley does not
often free us from his accursed presence," observed the boy. "I'll
not work any more to-day; I'll stay with you."
"Oh, but Joseph
will tell," she suggested. "You'd better go."
"Joseph is loading
lime on the further side of Pennistow Crag; it will take him till dark, and
he'll never know."
So saying, he lounged
to the fire and sat down. Catherine reflected an instant with knitted brows;
she found it needful to smooth the way for an intrusion. "Isabella and
Edgar Linton talked of calling this afternoon," she said, at the
conclusion of a minute's silence. "As it rains, I hardly expect them; but
they may come, and if they do you run the risk of being scolded for no
good."
"Order Ellen to
say you are engaged, Cathy," he persisted. "Don't turn me out for
those pitiful, silly friends of yours! I'm on the point, sometimes, of
complaining that they -- but I'll not."
"That they
what?" cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubled countenance. --
"Oh, Nelly!" she added petulantly, jerking her head away from my
hands, "you've combed my hair quite out of curl. That's enough; let me
alone. -- What are you on the point of complaining about, Heathcliff?"
"Nothing -- only
look at the almanac on that wall." He pointed to a framed sheet hanging
near the window, and continued, "The crosses are for the evenings you have
spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I've
marked every day."
"Yes; very foolish
-- as if I took notice!" replied Catherine, in a peevish tone. "And
where is the sense of that?"
"To show that I do
take notice," said Heathcliff.
"And should I
always be sitting with you?" she demanded, growing more irritated.
"What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might be dumb, or a baby,
for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do either."
"You never told me
before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy,"
exclaimed Heathcliff in much agitation.
"It's no company
at all, when people know nothing, and say nothing," she muttered.
Her companion rose up;
but he hadn't time to express his feelings further, for a horse's feet were
heard on the flags; and, having knocked gently, young Linton entered, his face
brilliant with delight at the unexpected summons he had received. Doubtless
Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the
other went out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak,
hilly, coal country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting
were as opposite as his aspect. He had a sweet, low manner of speaking, and
pronounced his words as you do -- that's less gruff than we talk here, and
softer.
"I'm not come too
soon, am I?" he said, casting a look at me. I had begun to wipe the plate
and tidy some drawers at the far end in the dresser.
"No,"
answered Catherine -- "What are you doing there, Nelly?"
"My work,
miss," I replied. (Mr. Hindley had given me directions to make a third
party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.) She stepped behind me and
whispered crossly, "Take yourself and your dusters off. When company are
in the house, servants don't commence scouring and cleaning in the room where
they are."
"It's a good
opportunity, now that master is away," I answered aloud. "He hates me
to be fidgeting over these things in his presence. I'm sure Mr. Edgar will
excuse me."
"I hate you to be
fidgeting in my presence," exclaimed the young lady imperiously, not
allowing her guest time to speak. She had failed to recover her equanimity
since the little dispute with Heathcliff.
"I'm sorry for it,
Miss Catherine," was my response; and I proceeded assiduously with my
occupation.
She, supposing Edgar
could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand, and pinched me, with a
prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm. I've said I did not love her, and
rather relished mortifying her vanity now and then -- besides, she hurt me
extremely; so I started up from my knees, and screamed out, "O miss,
that's a nasty trick! You have no right to nip me, and I'm not going to bear
it."
"I didn't touch
you, you lying creature!" cried she, her fingers tingling to repeat the
act, and her ears red with rage. She never had power to conceal her passion; it
always set her whole complexion in a blaze.
"What's that,
then?" I retorted, showing a decided purple witness to refute her.
She stamped her foot,
wavered a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled by the naughty spirit within
her, slapped me on the cheek -- a stinging blow that filled both eyes with
water.
"Catherine, love!
Catherine!" interposed Linton, greatly shocked at the double fault of
falsehood and violence which his idol had committed.
"Leave the room,
Ellen!" she repeated, trembling all over.
Little Hareton, who
followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on the floor, at seeing my
tears commenced crying himself, and sobbed out complaints against "wicked
Aunt Cathy," which drew her fury on to his unlucky head. She seized his
shoulders, and shook him till the poor child waxed livid, and Edgar
thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliver him. In an instant one was
wrung free, and the astonished young man felt it applied over his own ear in a
way that could not be mistaken for jest. He drew back in consternation. I
lifted Hareton in my arms, and walked off to the kitchen with him, leaving the
door of communication open, for I was curious to watch how they would settle
their disagreement. The insulted visitor moved to the spot where he had laid
his hat, pale and with a quivering lip.
"That's
right!" I said to myself. "Take warning and begone! It's a kindness
to let you have a glimpse of her genuine disposition."
"Where are you
going?" demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.
He swerved aside, and
attempted to pass.
"You must not
go!" she exclaimed energetically.
"I must and
shall!" he replied in a subdued voice.
"No," she
persisted, grasping the handle; "not yet, Edgar Linton. Sit down. You
shall not leave me in that temper. I should be miserable all night, and I won't
be miserable for you!"
"Can I stay, after
you have struck me?" asked Linton.
Catherine was mute.
"You've made me
afraid and ashamed of you," he continued. "I'll not come here
again."
Her eyes began to
glisten, and her lids to twinkle.
"And you told a
deliberate untruth," he said.
"I didn't,"
she cried, recovering her speech. "I did nothing deliberately. Well, go,
if you please -- get away. And now I'll cry -- I'll cry myself sick."
She dropped down on her
knees by a chair, and set to weeping in serious earnest. Edgar persevered in
his resolution as far as the court; there he lingered. I resolved to encourage
him.
"Miss is
dreadfully wayward, sir," I called out. "As bad as any marred child.
You'd better be riding home, or else she will be sick only to grieve us."
The soft thing looked
askance through the window. He possessed the power to depart as much as a cat
possesses the power to leave a mouse half killed or a bird half eaten. Ah, I
thought, there will be no saving him; he's doomed, and flies to his fate! And
so it was. He turned abruptly, hastened into the house again, shut the door
behind him; and when I went in a while after to inform them that Earnshaw had
come home rabid drunk, ready to pull the whole place about our ears (his
ordinary frame of mind in that condition), I saw the quarrel had merely
effected a closer intimacy -- had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, and
enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confess themselves
lovers.
Intelligence of Mr.
Hindley's arrival drove Linton speedily to his horse, and Catherine to her
chamber. I went to hide little Hareton, and to take the shot out of the
master's fowling-piece, which he was fond of playing with in his insane
excitement, to the hazard of the lives of any who provoked or even attracted
his notice too much; and I had hit upon the plan of removing it, that he might
do less mischief if he did go the length of firing the gun.
He entered,
vociferating oaths dreadful to hear; and caught me in the act of stowing his
son away in the kitchen cupboard. Hareton was impressed with a wholesome terror
of encountering either his wild-beast's fondness or his madman's rage -- for in
one he ran a chance of being squeezed and kissed to death, and in the other of
being flung into the fire, or dashed against the wall -- and the poor thing
remained perfectly quiet wherever I chose to put him.
"There, I've found
it out at last!" cried Hindley, pulling me back by the skin of the neck,
like a dog. "By Heaven and Hell, you've sworn between you to murder that
child ! I know how it is, now, that he is always out of my way. But, with the
help of Satan, I shall make you swallow the carving knife, Nelly! You needn't
laugh; for I've just crammed Kenneth, head-downmost, in the Blackhorse marsh;
and two is the same as one -- and I want to kill some of you, I shall have no
rest till I do!"
"But I don't like
the carving knife, Mr. Hindley," I answered; "it has been cutting red
herrings -- I'd rather be shot, if you please."
"You'd rather be
damned!" he said, "and so you shall -- No law in England can hinder a
man from keeping his house decent, and mine's abominable ! open your
mouth."
He held the knife in
his hand, and pushed its point between my teeth; but, for my part, I was never
much afraid of his vagaries. I spat out, and affirmed it tasted detestably; I
would not take it on any account.
"Oh!" said
he, releasing me, "I see that hideous little villain is not Hareton. I beg
your pardon, Nell. If it be, he deserves flaying alive for not running to
welcome me, and for screaming as if I were a goblin. Unnatural cub, come
hither. I'll teach thee to impose on a good-hearted, deluded father. Now, don't
you think the lad would be handsomer cropped? It makes a dog fiercer, and I
love something fierce -- get me a scissors -- something fierce and trim!
Besides, it's infernal affectation -- devilish conceit it is to cherish our
ears -- we're asses enough without them. Hush, child, hush! Well, then, it is
my darling! Wisht, dry thy eyes -- there's a joy; kiss me. What! it won't? Kiss
me, Hareton! Damn thee, kiss me! By God, as if I would rear such a monster! As
sure as I'm living, I'll break the brat's neck."
Poor Hareton was
squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all his might, and redoubled
his yells when he carried him upstairs and lifted him over the banister. I cried
out that he would frighten the child into fits, and ran to rescue him. As I
reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below,
almost forgetting what he had in his hands. "Who is that?" he asked,
hearing some one approaching the stair's foot. I leant forward also, for the
purpose of signing to Heathcliff, whose step I recognized, not to come farther;
and at the instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden spring,
delivered himself from the careless grasp that held him, and fell.
There was scarcely time
to experience a thrill of horror before we saw that the little wretch was safe.
Heathcliff arrived underneath just at the critical moment; by a natural impulse
he arrested his descent, and setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the
author of the accident. A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket for
five shillings, and finds next day he has lost in the bargain five thousand
pounds, could not show a blanker countenance than he did on beholding the figure
of Mr. Earnshaw above. It expressed, plainer than words could do, the intensest
anguish at having made himself the instrument of thwarting his own revenge. Had
it been dark, I dare say he would have tried to remedy the mistake by smashing
Hareton's skull on the steps; but we witnessed his salvation, and I was
presently below with my precious charge pressed to my heart. Hindley descended
more leisurely, sobered and abashed.
"It is your fault,
Ellen," he said; "you should have kept him out of sight. You should
have taken him from me. Is he injured anywhere?"
"Injured!" I
cried angrily; "if he's not killed, he'll be an idiot! Oh, I wonder his
mother does not rise from her grave to see how you use him! You're worse than a
heathen -- treating your own flesh and blood in that manner!"
He attempted to touch
the child, who, on finding himself with me, sobbed off his terror directly. At
the first finger his father laid on him, however, he shrieked again louder than
before, and struggled as if he would go into convulsions.
"You shall not
meddle with him," I continued. "He hates you; they all hate you --
that's the truth! A happy family you have, and a pretty state you're come
to!"
"I shall come to a
prettier yet, Nelly," laughed the misguided man, recovering his hardness.
"At present, convey yourself and him away. -- And hark you, Heathcliff;
clear you too quite from my reach and hearing. I wouldn't murder you to-night,
unless, perhaps, I set the house on fire; but that's as my fancy goes."
While saying this he
took a pint bottle of brandy from the dresser and poured some into a tumbler.
"Nay, don't!"
I entreated. "Mr. Hindley, do take warning. Have mercy on this unfortunate
boy, if you care nothing for yourself!"
"Any one will do
better for him than I shall," he answered.
"Have mercy on
your own soul!" I said, endeavouring to snatch the glass from his hand.
"Not I! On the
contrary I shall have great pleasure in sending it to perdition to punish its
Maker," exclaimed the blasphemer. "Here's to its hearty
damnation!"
He drank the spirits
and impatiently bade us go, terminating his command with a sequel of horrid
imprecations too bad to repeat or remember.
"It's a pity he cannot
kill himself with drink," observed Heathcliff, muttering an echo of curses
back when the door was shut. "He's doing his very utmost, but his
constitution defies him. Mr. Kenneth says he would wager his mare that he'll
outlive any man on this side Gimmerton, and go to the grave a hoary sinner,
unless some happy chance out of the common course befall him."
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.
"Where's
Heathcliff?" she said, interrupting me.
"About his work in
the stable," was my answer.
He did not contradict
me; perhaps he had fallen into a doze. There followed another long pause,
during which I perceived a drop or two trickle from Catherine's cheek to the
flags. Is she sorry for her shameful conduct? I asked myself. That will be a
novelty. But she may come to the point as she will; I shan't help her. No; she
felt small trouble regarding any subject save her own concerns.
"Oh dear!"
she cried at last, "I'm very unhappy!"
"A pity,"
observed I. "You're hard to please. So many friends, and so few cares, and
can't make yourself content!"
"Nelly, will you
keep a secret for me?" she pursued, kneeling down by me and lifting her
winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper even
when one has all the right in the world to indulge it.
"Is it worth
keeping?" I inquired less sulkily.
"Yes, and it
worries me, and I must let it out. I want to know what I should do. To-day
Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I've given him an answer. Now,
before I tell you whether it was a consent or denial, you tell me which it
ought to have been."
"Really, Miss
Catherine, how can I know?" I replied. "To be sure, considering the
exhibition you performed in his presence this afternoon, I might say it would
be wise to refuse him; since he asked you after that, he must either be
hopelessly stupid or a venturesome fool."
"If you talk so, I
won't tell you any more," she returned peevishly, rising to her feet.
"I accepted him, Nelly. Be quick, and say whether I was wrong."
"You accepted him!
Then what good is it discussing the matter? You have pledged your word, and
cannot retract."
"But say whether I
should have done so -- do!" she exclaimed in an irritated tone, chafing
her hands together and frowning.
"There are many
things to be considered before that question can be answered properly," I
said sententiously. "First and foremost, do you love Mr. Edgar?"
"Who can help it?
Of course I do," she answered.
Then I put her through
the following catechism; for a girl of twenty-two it was not injudicious.
"Why do you love
him, Miss Cathy?"
"Nonsense; I do --
that's sufficient."
"By no means; you
must say why."
"Well, because he
is handsome and pleasant to be with."
"Bad!" was my
commentary.
"And because he is
young and cheerful."
"Bad still."
"And because he
loves me."
"Indifferent,
coming there."
"And he will be
rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood, and I
shall be proud of having such a husband."
"Worst of all. And
now, say how you love him."
"As everybody
loves. You're silly, Nelly."
"Not at all --
answer."
"I love the ground
under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches, and every
word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions, and him entirely and
altogether. There now!"
"And why?"
"Nay, you are
making a jest of it. It is exceedingly ill-natured. It's no jest to me!"
said the young lady, scowling and turning her face to the fire.
"I'm very far from
jesting, Miss Catherine," I replied.
"You love Mr.
Edgar because he is handsome, and young, and cheerful, and rich, and loves you.
The last, however, goes for nothing -- you would love him without that
probably; and with it you wouldn't, unless he possessed the four former
attractions."
"No; to be sure
not. I should only pity him -- hate him, perhaps, if he were ugly and a
clown."
"But there are
several other handsome, rich young men in the world -- handsomer, possibly, and
richer than he is. What should hinder you from loving them?"
"If there be any,
they are out of my way. I've seen none like Edgar."
"You may see some.
And he won't always be handsome and young, and may not always be rich."
"He is now; and I
have only to do with the present. I wish you would speak rationally."
"Well, that
settles it. If you have only to do with the present, marry Mr. Linton."
"I don't want your
permission for that -- I shall marry him; and yet you have not told me whether
I'm right."
"Perfectly right,
if people be right to marry only for the present. And now, let us hear what you
are unhappy about. Your brother will be pleased; the old lady and gentleman
will not object, I think; you will escape from a disorderly, comfortless home
into a wealthy, respectable one; and you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you. All
seems smooth and easy. Where is the obstacle?"
"Here, and
here!" replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead and the other
on her breast; "in whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my
heart I'm convinced I'm wrong."
"That's very
strange. I cannot make it out."
"It's my secret.
But if you will not mock at me, I'll explain it. I can't do it distinctly, but
I'll give you a feeling of how I feel."
She seated herself by
me again; her countenance grew sadder and graver, and her clasped hands
trembled.
"Nelly, do you
never dream queer dreams?" she said suddenly, after some minutes'
reflection.
"Yes; now and
then," I answered.
"And so do I. I've
dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my
ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and
altered the colour of my mind. And this is one. I'm going to tell it; but take
care not to smile at any part of it."
"Oh! don't, Miss
Catherine!" I cried. "We're dismal enough without conjuring up ghosts
and visions to perplex us. Come, come, be merry and like yourself! Look at little
Hareton! He's dreaming nothing dreary. How sweetly he smiles in his
sleep!"
"Yes; and how
sweetly his father curses in his solitude! You remember him, I dare say, when
he was just such another as that chubby thing -- nearly as young and innocent.
However, Nelly, I shall oblige you to listen; it's not long, and I've no power
to be merry tonight."
"I won't hear it,
I won't hear it!" I repeated hastily.
I was superstitious
about dreams then, and am still; and Catherine
had an unusual gloom in
her aspect that made me dread something from which I might shape a prophecy and
foresee a fearful catastrophe. She was vexed, but she did not proceed.
Apparently taking up another subject, she recommenced in a short time.
"If I were in
heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable."
"Because you are
not fit to go there," I answered.
"All sinners would
be miserable in heaven."
"But it is not for
that. I dreamt once that I was there."
"I tell you I
won't hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine! I'll go to bed," I
interrupted again.
She laughed and held me
down, for I made a motion to leave my chair.
"This is
nothing," cried she. "I was only going to say that heaven did not
seem to be my home, and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and
the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on
the top of Wuthering Heights, where I woke sobbing for joy. That will do to
explain my secret as well as the other. I've no more business to marry Edgar
Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not
brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of it. It would degrade me
to marry Heathcliff now, so he shall never know how I love him; and that not
because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever
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."
Ere this speech ended I
became sensible of Heathcliff's presence. Having noticed a slight movement, I
turned my head and saw him rise from the bench and steal out noiselessly. He
had listened till he heard Catherine say it would degrade her to marry him, and
then he stayed to hear no further. My companion, sitting on the ground, was
prevented by the back of the settle from remarking his presence or departure;
but I started and bade her hush.
"Why?" she
asked, gazing nervously round.
"Joseph is
here," I answered, catching opportunely the roll of his cart-wheels up the
road, "and Heathcliff will come in with him. I'm not sure whether he were
not at the door this moment."
"Oh, he couldn't
overhear me at the door," said she. "Give me Hareton while you get
the supper, and when it is ready ask me to sup with you. I want to cheat my
uncomfortable conscience, and be convinced that Heathcliff has no notion of
these things. He has not, has he? He does not know what being in love is?"
"I see no reason
that he should not know, as well as you," I returned; "and if you are
his choice, he'll be the most unfortunate creature that ever was born. As soon
as you become Mrs. Linton, he loses friend, and love, and all. Have you
considered how you'll bear the separation, and how he'll bear to be quite
deserted in the world? Because, Miss Catherine ---- "
"He quite
deserted! we separated!" she exclaimed with an accent of indignation.
"Who is to separate us, pray? They'll meet the fate of Milo. Not as long
as I live, Ellen -- for no mortal creature. Every Linton on the face of the
earth might melt into nothing before I could consent to forsake Heathcliff. Oh,
that's not what I intend -- that's not what I mean! I shouldn't be Mrs. Linton
were such a price demanded! He'll be as much to me as he has been all his
lifetime. Edgar must shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least. He
will, when he learns my true feelings towards him. Nelly, I see now -- you
think me a selfish wretch; but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I
married, we should be beggars? Whereas, if I marry Linton, I can aid Heathcliff
to rise, and place him out of my brother's power."
"With your
husband's money, Miss Catherine?" I asked. "You'll find him not so
pliable as you calculate upon; and, though I'm hardly a judge, I think that's
the worst motive you've given yet for being the wife of young Linton."
"It is not!"
retorted she; "it is the best! The others were the satisfaction of my
whims; and for Edgar's sake, too -- to satisfy him. This is for the sake of one
who comprehends in his person my feelings to Edgar and myself. I cannot express
it, but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an
existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation if I were
entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's
miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning. My great thought in
living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still
continue to be. And if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe
would turn to a mighty stranger -- I should not seem a part of it. My love for
Linton is like the foliage in the woods; time will change it, I'm well aware,
as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks
beneath -- a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am
Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind -- not as a pleasure, any more than
I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don't talk of our
separation again. It is impracticable, and ---- "
She paused, and hid her
face in the folds of my gown, but I jerked it forcibly away. I was out of
patience with her folly.
"If I can make any
sense of your nonsense, miss," I said, "it only goes to convince me
that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake in marrying, or else that you
are a wicked, unprincipled girl. But trouble me with no more secrets; I'll not
promise to keep them."
"You'll keep
that?" she asked eagerly.
"No, I'll not
promise," I repeated.
She was about to
insist, when the entrance of Joseph finished our conversation; and Catherine
removed her seat to a corner and nursed Hareton, while I made the supper. After
it was cooked, my fellow-servant and I began to quarrel who should carry some
to Mr. Hindley; and we didn't settle it till all was nearly cold. Then we came
to the agreement that we would let him ask if he wanted any, for we feared
particularly to go into his presence when he had been some time alone.
"And how isn't
that nowt comed in fro' th' field be this time? What is he about? girt idle
seeght!" demanded the old man, looking round for Heathcliff.
"I'll call
him," I replied. "He's in the barn, I've no doubt."
I went and called, but
got no answer. On returning, I whispered to Catherine that he had heard a good
part of what she said, I was sure, and told how I saw him quit the kitchen just
as she complained of her brother's conduct regarding him. She jumped up in a
fine fright, flung Hareton on to the settle, and ran to seek for her friend
herself, not taking leisure to consider why she was so flurried, or how her
talk would have affected him. She was absent such a while that Joseph proposed
we should wait no longer. He cunningly conjectured they were staying away in
order to avoid hearing his protracted blessing. They were "ill eneugh for
ony fahl manners," he affirmed. And on their behalf he added that night a
special prayer to the usual quarter of an hour's supplication before meat, and
would have tacked another to the end of the grace, had not his young mistress
broken in upon him with a hurried command that he must run down the road, and
wherever Heathcliff had rambled, find and make him re-enter directly.
"I want to speak
to him, and I must before I go upstairs," she said. "And the gate is
open. He is somewhere out of hearing, for he would not reply, though I shouted
at the top of the fold as loud as I could."
Joseph objected at
first. She was too much in earnest, however, to suffer contradiction; and at
last he placed his hat on his head and walked grumbling forth. Meantime,
Catherine paced up and down the floor, exclaiming, --
"I wonder where he
is -- I wonder where he can be. What did I say, Nelly? I've forgotten. Was he
vexed at my bad humour this afternoon? Dear! tell me what I've said to grieve
him. I do wish he'd come. I do wish he would."
"What a noise for
nothing!" I cried, though rather uneasy myself. "What a trifle scares
you! It's surely no great cause of alarm that Heathcliff should take a
moonlight saunter on the moors, or even lie too sulky to speak to us in the
hay-loft. I'll engage he's lurking there. See if I don't ferret him out!"
I departed to renew my
search. Its result was disappointment, and Joseph's quest ended in the same.
"Yon lad gets war
un war!" observed he on re-entering. "He's left th' yate at t' full
swing, and miss's pony has trodden dahn two rigs o' corn, and plottered
through, raight o'er into t' meadow! Hahsomdiver, t' maister 'ull play t' devil
to-morn, and he'll do weel. He's patience itsseln wi' sich careless, offald
craters -- patience itsseln he is! Bud he'll not be soa allus -- yah's see, all
on ye! Yah munn't drive him out of his heead for nowt!"
"Have you found
Heathcliff, you ass?" interrupted Catherine. "Have you been looking
for him, as I ordered?"
"Aw sud more
likker look for th' horse," he replied. "It 'ud be to more sense. Bud
I can look for norther horse nur man of a neeght loike this -- as black as t'
chimbley; und Heathcliff's noan t' chap to coom at my whistle. Happen he'll be
less hard o' hearing wi' ye!"
It was a very dark
evening for summer. The clouds appeared inclined to thunder, and I said we had
better all sit down; the approaching rain would be certain to bring him home
without further trouble. However, Catherine would not be persuaded into
tranquillity. She kept wandering to and fro, from the gate to the door, in a
state of agitation which permitted no repose, and at length took up a permanent
situation on one side of the wall, near the road, where, heedless of my
expostulations and the growling thunder, and the great drops that began to
plash around her, she remained, calling at intervals, and then listening, and
then crying outright. She beat Hareton, or any child, at a good passionate fit
of crying.
About midnight, while
we still sat up, the storm came rattling over the Heights in full fury. There
was a violent wind, as well as thunder, and either one or the other split a
tree off at the corner of the building; a huge bough fell across the roof, and
knocked down a portion of the east chimney stack, sending a clatter of stones
and soot into the kitchen fire. We thought a bolt had fallen in the middle of
us, and Joseph swung on to his knees, beseeching the Lord to remember the
patriarchs Noah and Lot, and, as in former times, spare the righteous, though
He smote the ungodly. I felt some sentiment that it must be a judgment on us
also. The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr. Earnshaw; and I shook the handle of his
den, that I might ascertain if he were yet living. He replied audibly enough in
a fashion which made my companion vociferate, more clamorously than before,
that a wide distinction might be drawn between saints like himself and sinners
like his master. But the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all
unharmed, excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched for her obstinacy in
refusing to take shelter, and standing bonnetless and shawl-less to catch as
much water as she could with her hair and clothes. She came in and lay down on
the settle, all soaked as she was, turning her face to the back and putting her
hands before it.
"Well, miss!"
I exclaimed, touching her shoulder; "you are not bent on getting your
death, are you? Do you know what o'clock it is? Half-past twelve. Come, come to
bed! There's no use waiting longer on that foolish boy. He'll be gone to
Gimmerton, and he'll stay there now. He guesses we shouldn't wake for him till
this late hour -- at least he guesses that only Mr. Hindley would be up; and
he'd rather avoid having the door opened by the master."
"Nay, nay; he's
noan at Gimmerton," said Joseph. "I's niver wonder but he's at t'
bothom of a bog-hoile. This visitation worn't for nowt, and I wod hev ye to
look out, miss; yah muh be t' next. Thank Hivin for all! All warks togither for
gooid to them as is chozzen, and piked out fro' th' rubbidge. Yah knaw whet t'
Scripture ses." And he began quoting several texts, referring us to
chapters and verses where we might find them.
I, having vainly begged
the wilful girl to rise and remove her wet things, left him preaching and her
shivering, and betook myself to bed with little Hareton, who slept as fast as
if every one had been sleeping round him. I heard Joseph read on a while
afterwards; then I distinguished his slow step on the ladder, and then I
dropped asleep.
Coming down somewhat
later than usual, I saw, by the sunbeams piercing the chinks of the shutters,
Miss Catherine still seated near the fireplace. The house door was ajar too;
light entered from its unclosed windows. Hindley had come out, and stood on the
kitchen hearth, haggard and drowsy.
"What ails you,
Cathy?" he was saying when I entered; "you look as dismal as a
drowned whelp. Why are you so damp and pale, child?"
"I've been
wet!" she answered reluctantly, "and I'm cold; that's all."
"Oh, she is
naughty!" I cried, perceiving the master to be tolerably sober. "She
got steeped in the shower of yesterday evening, and there she has sat the night
through, and I couldn't prevail on her to stir."
Mr. Earnshaw stared at
us in surprise. "The night through!" he repeated. "What kept her
up? Not fear of the thunder, surely? That was over hours since."
Neither of us wished to
mention Heathcliff's absence as long as we could conceal it, so I replied I
didn't know how she took it into her head to sit up, and she said nothing. The
morning was fresh and cool. I threw back the lattice, and presently the room
filled with sweet scents from the garden; but Catherine called peevishly to me,
"Ellen, shut the window. I'm starving!" And her teeth chattered as
she shrank closer to the almost extinguished embers.
"She's ill,"
said Hindley, taking her wrist; "I suppose that's the reason she would not
go to bed. Damn it! I don't want to be troubled with more sickness here. What
took you into the rain?"
"Running after t'
lads as usuald!" croaked Joseph, catching an opportunity, from our
hesitation, to thrust in his evil tongue. "If I war yah, maister, I'd just
slam t' boards i' their faces all on 'em, gentle and simple. Never a day ut yah're
off, but yon cat o' Linton comes sneaking hither; and Miss Nelly -- shoo's a
fine lass -- shoo sits watching for ye i' t' kitchen; and as yah're in at one
door, he's out at t'other, and then wer grand lady goes a-coorting of her side!
It's bonny behaviour, lurking amang t' fields after twelve o' t' night wi' that
fahl, flaysome divil of a gipsy, Heathcliff! They think I'm blind, but I'm noan
-- nowt ut t' soart! I seed young Linton boath coming and going, and I seed
yah" (directing his discourse to me), "yah gooid fur nowt, slattenly
witch, nip up and bolt into th' house, t' minute yah heard t' maister's horse
fit clatter up t' road."
"Silence,
eavesdropper!" cried Catherine; "none of your insolence before me! --
Edgar Linton came yesterday by chance, Hindley, and it was I who told him to be
off, because I knew you would not like to have met him as you were."
"You lie, Cathy,
no doubt," answered her brother, "and you are a confounded simpleton!
But never mind Linton at present; tell me -- were you not with Heathcliff last
night? Speak the truth, now. You need not be afraid of harming him. Though I
hate him as much as ever, he did me a good turn a short time since that will
make my conscience tender of breaking his neck. To prevent it, I shall send him
about his business this very morning; and after he's gone, I'd advise you all
to look sharp. I shall only have the more humour for you."
"I never saw
Heathcliff last night," answered Catherine, beginning to sob bitterly,
"and if you do turn him out of doors, I'll go with him. But perhaps you'll
never have an opportunity; perhaps he's gone." Here she burst into
uncontrollable grief, and the remainder of her words were inarticulate.
Hindley lavished on her
a torrent of scornful abuse, and bade her get to her room immediately, or she
shouldn't cry for nothing. I obliged her to obey; and I shall never forget what
a scene she acted when we reached her chamber -- it terrified me. I thought she
was going mad, and I begged Joseph to run for the doctor. It proved the
commencement of delirium. Mr. Kenneth, as soon as he saw her, pronounced her
dangerously ill. She had a fever. He bled her, and he told me to let her live
on whey and water-gruel, and take care she did not throw herself downstairs or
out of the window; and then he left, for he had enough to do in the parish,
where two or three miles was the ordinary distance between cottage and cottage.
Though I cannot say I
made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master were no better, and though our
patient was as wearisome and headstrong as a patient could be, she weathered it
through. Old Mrs. Linton paid us several visits, to be sure, and set things to
rights, and scolded and ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent she
insisted on conveying her to Thrushcross Grange, for which deliverance we were
very grateful; but the poor dame had reason to repent of her kindness. She and
her husband both took the fever, and died within a few days of each other.
Our young lady returned
to us, saucier and more passionate and haughtier than ever. Heathcliff had
never been heard of since the evening of the thunderstorm; and one day I had
the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his
disappearance on her -- where indeed it belonged, as she well knew. From that
period, for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me, save
in the relation of a mere servant. Joseph fell under a ban also. He would speak
his mind, and lecture her all the same as if she were a little girl; and she
esteemed herself a woman, and our mistress, and thought that her recent illness
gave her a claim to be treated with consideration. Then the doctor had said
that she would not bear crossing much -- she ought to have her own way; and it
was nothing less than murder in her eyes for any one to presume to stand up and
contradict her. From Mr. Earnshaw and his companions she kept aloof; and tutored
by Kenneth, and serious threats of a fit that often attended her rages, her
brother allowed her whatever she pleased to demand, and generally avoided
aggravating her fiery temper. He was rather too indulgent in humouring her
caprices -- not from affection, but from pride. He wished earnestly to see her
bring honour to the family by an alliance with the Lintons; and as long as she
let him alone she might trample on us like slaves, for aught he cared. Edgar
Linton, as multitudes have been before, and will be after him, was infatuated,
and believed himself the happiest man alive on the day he led her to Gimmerton
Chapel, three years subsequent to his father's death.
Much against my
inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights and accompany her here.
Little Hareton was nearly five years old, and I had just begun to teach him his
letters. We made a sad parting, but Catherine's tears were more powerful than
ours. When I refused to go, and when she found her entreaties did not move me,
she went lamenting to her husband and brother. The former offered me munificent
wages; the latter ordered me to pack up. He wanted no women in the house, he
said, now that there was no mistress; and as to Hareton, the curate should take
him in hand by-and-by. And so I had but one choice left -- to do as I was
ordered. I told the master he got rid of all decent people only to ride to ruin
a little faster. I kissed Hareton, said good-bye, and since then he has been a
stranger; and it's very queer to think it, but I've no doubt he has completely
forgotten all about Ellen Dean, and that he was ever more than all the world to
her, and she to him.
At this point of the
housekeeper's story she chanced to glance towards the timepiece over the
chimney, and was in amazement on seeing the minute-hand measure half-past one.
She would not hear of staying a second longer -- in truth, I felt rather
disposed to defer the sequel of her narrative myself. And now that she is
vanished to her rest, and I have meditated for another hour or two, I shall
summon courage to go also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.
A charming introduction
to a hermit's life! Four weeks' torture, tossing and sickness ! Oh, these bleak
winds and bitter, northern skies, and impassable roads, and dilatory country
surgeons! And, oh, this dearth of the human physiognomy, and, worse than all,
the terrible intimation of Kenneth that I need not expect to be out of doors
till spring!
Mr. Heathcliff has just
honoured me with a call. About seven days ago he sent me a brace of grouse --
the last of the season. Scoundrel ! He is not altogether guiltless in this
illness of mine; and that I had a great mind to tell him. But, alas! how could
I offend a man who was charitable enough to sit at my bedside a good hour, and
talk on some other subject than pills and draughts, blisters and leeches ?
This is quite an easy
interval. I am too weak to read, yet I feel as if I could enjoy something
interesting. Why not have up Mrs. Dean to finish her tale ? I can recollect its
chief incidents, as far as she had gone. Yes, I remember her hero had run off,
and never been heard of for three years: and the heroine was married. I'll
ring; she'll be delighted to find me capable of talking cheerfully.
Mrs. Dean came.
"It wants twenty
minutes, sir, to taking the medicine," she commenced.
Away, away with
it!" I replied; "I desire to have --
"The doctor says
you must drop the powders."
"With all my
heart! Don't interrupt me. Come and take your seat here. Keep your fingers from
that bitter phalanx of vials. Draw your knitting out of your pocket -- that
will do; now continue the history of Mr. Heathcliff, from where you left off to
the present day. Did he finish his education on the Continent, and come back a
gentleman? or did he get a sizer's place at college, or escape to America, and
earn honours by drawing blood from his foster-country, or make a fortune more
promptly on the English highways?"
"He may have done
a little in all these vocations, Mr. Lockwood, but I couldn't give my word for
any. I stated before that I didn't know how he gained his money, neither am I
aware of the means he took to raise his mind from the savage ignorance into
which it was sunk; but, with your leave, I'll proceed in my own fashion, if you
think it will amuse and not weary you. Are you feeling better this
morning?"
"Much."
"That's good news.
---- I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange, and, to my
agreeable disappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared to expect.
She seemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton, and even to his sister she showed
plenty of affection. They were both very attentive to her comfort, certainly.
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles
embracing the thorn. There were no mutual concessions -- one stood erect and
the others yielded; and who can be ill-natured and bad-tempered when they
encounter neither opposition nor indifference? I observed that Mr. Edgar had a
deep-rooted fear of ruffling her humour. He concealed it from her; but if ever
he heard me answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some
imperious order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure
that never darkened on his own account. He many a time spoke sternly to me about
my pertness, and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict a worse
pang than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed. Not to grieve a kind master, I
learned to be less touchy; and for the space of half a year the gunpowder lay
as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it. Catherine had
seasons of gloom and silence now and then; they were respected with
sympathizing silence by her husband, who ascribed them to an alteration in her
constitution, produced by her perilous illness, as she was never subject to
depression of spirits before. The return of sunshine was welcomed by answering
sunshine from him. I believe I may assert that they were really in possession
of deep and growing happiness.
It ended. Well, we must
be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly
selfish than the domineering, and it ended when circumstances caused each to
feel that the one's interest was not the chief consideration in the other's
thoughts. On a mellow evening in September I was coming from the garden with a
heavy basket of apples which I had been gathering. It had got dusk, and the
moon looked over the high wall of the court, causing undefined shadows to lurk
in the corners of the numerous projecting portions of the building. I set my
burden on the house steps by the kitchen door, and lingered to rest, and drew
in a few more breaths of the soft, sweet air. My eyes were on the moon, and my
back to the entrance, when I heard a voice behind me say, --
"Nelly, is that
you?"
It was a deep voice,
and foreign in tone, yet there was something in the manner of pronouncing my
name which made it sound familiar. I turned about to discover who spoke,
fearfully; for the doors were shut, and I had seen nobody on approaching the
steps. Something stirred in the porch; and moving nearer, I distinguished a
tall man dressed in dark clothes, with dark face and hair. He leant against the
side, and held his fingers on the latch, as if intending to open for himself.
"Who can it be?" I thought. "Mr. Earnshaw? Oh no! The voice has
no resemblance to his."
"I have waited
here an hour," he resumed, while I continued staring; "and the whole
of that time all round has been as still as death. I dared not enter. You do
not know me? Look, I'm not a stranger!"
A ray fell on his
features; the cheeks were sallow and half covered with black whiskers, the
brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular. I remembered the eyes.
"What!" I
cried, uncertain whether to regard him as a worldly visitor, and I raised my
hands in amazement. "What! you come back? Is it really you? Is it?"
"Yes,
Heathcliff," he replied, glancing from me up to the windows, which
reflected a score of glittering moons, but showed no lights from within.
"Are they at home? Where is she? Nelly, you are not glad. You needn't be
so disturbed. Is she here? Speak! I want to have one word with her -- your
mistress. Go, and say some person from Gimmerton desires to see her."
"How will she take
it?" I exclaimed. "What will she do? The surprise bewilders me. It
will put her out of her head. And you are Heathcliff, but altered! Nay, there's
no comprehending it. Have you been for a soldier?"
"Go and carry my
message," he interrupted impatiently. "I'm in hell till you do!"
He lifted the latch,
and I entered; but when I got to the parlour where Mr. and Mrs. Linton were, I
could not persuade myself to proceed. At length I resolved on making an excuse
to ask if they would have the candles lighted, and I opened the door.
They sat together in a
window whose lattice lay back against the wall, and displayed, beyond the
garden trees and the wild green park, the valley of Gimmerton, with a long line
of mist winding nearly to its top (for very soon after you pass the chapel, as
you may have noticed, the sough that runs from the marshes joins a beck which
follows the bend of the glen). Wuthering Heights rose above this silvery
vapour, but our old house was invisible; it rather dips down on the other side.
Both the room and its occupants, and the scene they gazed on, looked wondrously
peaceful. I shrank reluctantly from performing my errand, and was actually
going away leaving it unsaid, after having put my question about the candles,
when a sense of my folly compelled me to return and mutter. "A person from
Gimmerton wishes to see you, ma'am."
"What does he
want?" asked Mrs. Linton.
"I did not
question him," I answered.
"Well, close the
curtains, Nelly," she said, "and bring up tea. I'll be back again
directly."
She quitted the apartment.
Mr. Edgar inquired carelessly who it was.
"Some one mistress
does not expect," I replied. "That Heathcliff -- you recollect him,
sir -- who used to live at Mr. Earnshaw's."
"What! The gipsy
-- the ploughboy?" he cried. "Why did you not say so to
Catherine?"
"Hush! you must
not call him by those names, master," I said. "She'd be sadly grieved
to hear you. She was nearly heartbroken when he ran off. I guess his return
will make a jubilee to her."
Mr. Linton walked to a
window on the other side of the room that overlooked the court. He unfastened
it and leant out. I suppose they were below, for he exclaimed quickly,
"Don't stand there, love! Bring the person in, if it be any one
particular." Ere long I heard the click of the latch, and Catherine flew
upstairs, breathless and wild, too excited to show gladness; indeed, by her
face, you would rather have surmised an awful calamity.
"O Edgar,
Edgar!" she panted, flinging her arms round his neck. "O Edgar
darling! Heathcliff's come back -- he is!" And she tightened her embrace
to a squeeze.
"Well, well,"
cried her husband crossly, "don't strangle me for that. He never struck me
as such a marvellous treasure. There is no need to be frantic."
"I know you didn't
like him," she answered, repressing a little the intensity of her delight.
"Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now. Shall I tell him to come
up?"
"Here?" he
said -- "into the parlour?"
"Where else?"
she asked.
He looked vexed, and
suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place for him. Mrs. Linton eyed him
with a droll expression -- half angry, half laughing, at his fastidiousness.
"No," she
added, after a while; "I cannot sit in the kitchen. -- Set two tables
here, Ellen -- one for your master and Miss Isabella, being gentry; the other
for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders. -- Will that please you,
dear? Or must I have a fire lighted elsewhere? If so, give directions. I'll run
down and secure my guest. I'm afraid the joy is too great to be real!"
She was about to dart
off again, but Edgar arrested her.
"You bid him step
up," he said, addressing me, "and, Catherine, try to be glad without
being absurd. The whole household need not witness the sight of your welcoming
a runaway servant as a brother."
I descended and found
Heathcliff waiting under the porch, evidently anticipating an invitation to
enter. He followed my guidance without waste of words, and I ushered him into
the presence of the master and mistress, whose flushed cheeks betrayed signs of
warm talking. But the lady's glowed with another feeling when her friend
appeared at the door. She sprang forward, took both his hands, and led him to
Linton; and then she seized Linton's reluctant fingers and crushed them into
his. Now fully revealed by the fire and candlelight, I was amazed more than
ever to behold the transformation of Heathcliff. He had grown a tall, athletic,
well-formed man, beside whom my master seemed quite slender and youth-like. His
upright carriage suggested the idea of his having been in the army. His
countenance was much older in expression and decision of feature than Mr.
Linton's; it looked intelligent, and retained no marks of former degradation. A
half- civilized ferocity lurked yet in the depressed brows and eyes full of
black fire, but it was subdued, and his manner was even dignified -- quite
divested of roughness, though too stern for grace. My master's surprise
equalled or exceeded mine. He remained for a minute at a loss how to address
the ploughboy, as he had called him. Heathcliff dropped his slight hand, and
stood looking at him coolly till he chose to speak.
"Sit down,
sir," he said at length. "Mrs. Linton, recalling old times, would
have me give you a cordial reception; and, of course, I am gratified when
anything occurs to please her."
"And I also,"
answered Heathcliff, "especially if it be anything in which I have a part.
I shall stay an hour or two willingly."
He took a seat opposite
Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish were
she to remove it. He did not raise his to her often -- a quick glance now and
then sufficed; but it flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised
delight he drank from hers. They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to
suffer embarrassment. Not so Mr. Edgar. He grew pale with pure annoyance -- a
feeling that reached its climax when his lady rose, and stepping across the
rug, seized Heathcliff's hands again, and laughed like one beside herself.
"I shall think it
a dream to-morrow!" she cried. "I shall not be able to believe that I
have seen, and touched, and spoken to you once more. And yet, cruel Heathcliff!
you don't deserve this welcome. To be absent and silent for three years, and
never to think of me!"
"A little more
than you have thought of me," he murmured. "I heard of your marriage,
Cathy, not long since; and while waiting in the yard below I meditated this
plan -- just to have one glimpse of your face, a stare of surprise, perhaps,
and pretended pleasure; afterwards settle my score with Hindley; and then
prevent the law by doing execution on myself. Your welcome has put these ideas
out of my mind; but beware of meeting me with another aspect next time! Nay,
you'll not drive me off again. You were really sorry for me, were you? Well, there
was cause. I've fought through a bitter life since I last heard your voice; and
you must forgive me, for I struggled only for you!"
"Catherine, unless
we are to have cold tea, please to come to the table," interrupted Linton,
striving to preserve his ordinary tone, and a due measure of politeness.
"Mr. Heathcliff will have a long walk, wherever he may lodge to-night, and
I'm thirsty."
She took her post
before the urn; and Miss Isabella came, summoned by the bell; then having
handed their chairs forward, I left the room. The meal hardly endured ten
minutes. Catherine's cup was never filled. She could neither eat nor drink.
Edgar had made a slop in his saucer, and scarcely swallowed a mouthful. Their
guest did not protract his stay that evening above an hour longer. I asked, as
he departed, if he went to Gimmerton?
"No; to Wuthering
Heights," he answered. "Mr. Earnshaw invited me when I called this
morning."
Mr. Earnshaw invited
him! and he called on Mr. Earnshaw! I pondered this sentence painfully after he
was gone. Is he turning out a bit of a hypocrite, and coming into the country
to work mischief under a cloak? I mused. I had a presentiment in the bottom of
my heart that he had better have remained away.
About the middle of the
night I was wakened from my first nap by Mrs. Linton gliding into my chamber,
taking a seat on my bedside, and pulling me by the hair to rouse me.
"I cannot rest,
Ellen," she said, by way of apology. "And I want some living creature
to keep me company in my happiness. Edgar is sulky because I'm glad of a thing
that does not interest him. He refuses to open his mouth, except to utter
pettish, silly speeches; and he affirmed I was cruel and selfish for wishing to
talk when he was so sick and sleepy. He always contrives to be sick at the
least cross! I gave a few sentences of commendation to Heathcliff, and he,
either for a headache or a pang of envy, began to cry; so I got up and left
him."
"What use is it
praising Heathcliff to him?" I answered. "As lads they had an
aversion to each other, and Heathcliff would hate just as much to hear him
praised; it's human nature. Let Mr. Linton alone about him, unless you would
like an open quarrel between them."
"But does it not
show great weakness?" pursued she. "I'm not envious. I never feel
hurt at the brightness of Isabella's yellow hair and the whiteness of her skin,
at her dainty elegance and the fondness all the family exhibit for her. Even
you, Nelly, if we have a dispute sometimes, you back Isabella at once; and I
yield like a foolish mother. I call her a darling, and flatter her into a good
temper. It pleases her brother to see us cordial, and that pleases me. But they
are very much alike. They are spoiled children, and fancy the world was made
for their accommodation; and though I humour both, I think a smart chastisement
might improve them, all the same."
"You're mistaken,
Mrs. Linton," said I. "They humour you. I know what there would be to
do if they did not. You can well afford to indulge their passing whims as long
as their business is to anticipate all your desires. You may, however, fall out
at last over something of equal consequence to both sides; and then those you
term weak are very capable of being as obstinate as you."
"And then we shall
fight to the death, shan't we, Nelly?" she returned, laughing. "No; I
tell you I have such faith in Linton's love that I believe I might kill him,
and he wouldn't wish to retaliate."
I advised her to value
him the more for his affection.
"I do," she
answered; "but he needn't resort to whining for trifles. It is childish;
and instead of melting into tears because I said that Heathcliff was now worthy
of any one's regard, and it would honour the first gentleman in the country to
be his friend, he ought to have said it for me, and been delighted from
sympathy. He must get accustomed to him, and he may as well like him.
Considering how Heathcliff has reason to object to him, I'm sure he behaved
excellently."
"What do you think
of his going to Wuthering Heights?" I inquired. "He is reformed in
every respect, apparently -- quite a Christian -- offering the right hand of
fellowship to his enemies all around!"
"He explained
it," she replied. "I wonder as much as you. He said he called to gather
information concerning me from you, supposing you resided there still; and
Joseph told Hindley, who came out and fell to questioning him of what he had
been doing, and how he had been living, and finally desired him to walk in.
There were some persons sitting at cards. Heathcliff joined them. My brother
lost some money to him; and finding him plentifully supplied, he requested that
he would come again in the evening, to which he consented. Hindley is too
reckless to select his acquaintance prudently. He doesn't trouble himself to
reflect on the causes he might have for mistrusting one whom he has basely
injured. But Heathcliff affirms his principal reason for resuming a connection
with his ancient persecutor is a wish to install himself in quarters at walking
distance from the Grange, and an attachment to the house where we lived
together, and likewise a hope that I shall have more opportunities of seeing
him there than I could have if he settled in Gimmerton. He means to offer
liberal payment for permission to lodge at the Heights; and doubtless my
brother's covetousness will prompt him to accept the terms. He was always
greedy, though what he grasps with one hand he flings away with the
other."
"It's a nice place
for a young man to fix his dwelling in!" said I. Have you no fear of the
consequences, Mrs. Linton?"
"None for my
friend," she replied. "His strong head will keep him from danger; a
little for Hindley, but he can't be made morally worse than he is; and I stand
between him and bodily harm. The event of this evening reconciled me to God and
humanity! I had risen in angry rebellion against providence. Oh, I've endured
very, very bitter misery, Nelly! If that creature knew how bitter, he'd be
ashamed to cloud its removal with idle petulance. It was kindness for him which
induced me to bear it alone. Had I expressed the agony I frequently felt, he
would have been taught to long for its alleviation as ardently as I. However,
it's over, and I'll take no revenge on his folly. I can afford to suffer anything
hereafter. Should the meanest thing alive slap me on the cheek, I'd not only
turn the other, but I'd ask pardon for provoking it; and as a proof I'll go
make my peace with Edgar instantly. Good-night! I'm an angel!"
In this self-complacent
conviction she departed; and the success of her fulfilled resolution was
obvious on the morrow. Mr. Linton had not only abjured his peevishness (though
his spirits seemed still subdued by Catherine's exuberance of vivacity), but he
ventured no objection to her taking Isabella with her to Wuthering Heights in
the afternoon; and she rewarded him with such a summer of sweetness and
affection in return as made the house a paradise for several days, both master
and servants profiting from the perpetual sunshine.
Heathcliff -- Mr.
Heathcliff, I should say in future -- used the liberty of visiting at
Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first. He seemed estimating how far its owner
would bear his intrusion. Catherine, also, deemed it judicious to moderate her
expressions of pleasure in receiving him; and he gradually established his
right to be expected. He retained a great deal of the reserve for which his
boyhood was remarkable; and that served to repress all startling demonstrations
of feeling. My master's uneasiness experienced a lull, and further
circumstances diverted it into another channel for a space.
His new source of
trouble sprang from the not-anticipated misfortune of Isabella Linton evincing
a sudden and irresistible attraction towards the tolerated guest. She was at
that time a charming young lady of eighteen, infantile in manners, though
possessed of keen wit, keen feelings, and a keen temper, too, if irritated. Her
brother, who loved her tenderly, was appalled at this fantastic preference.
Leaving aside the degradation of an alliance with a nameless man, and the
possible fact that his property, in default of heirs, male, might pass into
such a one's power, he had sense to comprehend Heathcliff's disposition -- to
know that, though his exterior was altered, his mind was unchangeable and
unchanged. And he dreaded that mind. It revolted him. He shrank forebodingly
from the idea of committing Isabella to its keeping. He would have recoiled
still more had he been aware that her attachment rose unsolicited, and was
bestowed where it awakened no reciprocation of sentiment, for the minute he
discovered its existence he laid the blame on Heathcliff's deliberate
designing.
We had all remarked,
during some time, that Miss Linton fretted, and pined over something. She grew
cross and wearisome, snapping at and teasing Catherine continually, at the
imminent risk of exhausting her limited patience. We excused her, to a certain
extent, on the plea of ill-health. She was dwindling and fading before our
eyes. But one day, when she had been peculiarly wayward, rejecting her
breakfast, complaining that the servants did not do what she told them; that
the mistress would allow her to be nothing in the house, and Edgar neglected
her; that she had caught a cold with the doors being left open, and we let the
parlour fire go out on purpose to vex her, with a hundred yet more frivolous
accusations, Mrs. Linton peremptorily insisted that she should get to bed, and
having scolded her heartily, threatened to send for the doctor. Mention of
Kenneth caused her to exclaim instantly that her health was perfect, and it was
only Catherine's harshness which made her unhappy.
"How can you say I
am harsh, you naughty fondling?" cried the mistress, amazed at the
unreasonable assertion. "You are surely losing your reason. When have I
been harsh, tell me?"
"Yesterday,"
sobbed Isabella, "and now!"
"Yesterday!"
said her sister-in-law. "On what occasion?"
"In our walk along
the moor. You told me to ramble where I pleased, while you sauntered on with
Mr. Heathcliff!"
"And that's your
notion of harshness?" said Catherine, laughing. "It was no hint that
your company was superfluous. We didn't care whether you kept with us or not. I
merely thought Heathcliff's talk would have nothing entertaining for your
ears."
"Oh no," wept
the young lady; "you wished me away because you knew I liked to be
there!"
"Is she
sane?" asked Mrs. Linton, appealing to me. "I'll repeat our
conversation, word for word, Isabella; and you point out any charm it could
have had for you."
"I don't mind the
conversation," she answered. "I wanted to be with ---- "
"Well?" said
Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete the sentence.
"With him; and I
won't be always sent off!" she continued, kindling up. "You are a dog
in the manger, Cathy, and desire no one to be loved but yourself!"
"You are an
impertinent little monkey!" exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in surprise. "But
I'll not believe this idiocy. It is impossible that you can covet the
admiration of Heathcliff -- that you consider him an agreeable person! I hope I
have misunderstood you, Isabella?"
"No, you have
not," said the infatuated girl. "I love him more than ever you loved
Edgar; and he might love me, if you would let him!"
"I wouldn't be you
for a kingdom, then!" Catherine declared emphatically; and she seemed to
speak sincerely. -- "Nelly, help me to convince her of her madness. Tell
her what Heathcliff is -- an unreclaimed creature, without refinement, without
cultivation, an arid wilderness of furze and whinstone. I'd as soon put that
little canary into the park on a winter's day, as recommend you to bestow your
heart on him. It is deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing
else, which makes that dream enter your head. Pray don't imagine that he conceals
depths of benevolence and affection beneath a stern exterior. He's not a rough
diamond, a pearl-containing oyster of a rustic. He's a fierce, pitiless,
wolfish man. I never say to him, 'Let this or that enemy alone, because it
would be ungenerous or cruel to harm them.' I say, 'Let them alone, because I
should hate them to be wronged.' And he'd crush you like a sparrow's egg,
Isabella, if he found you a troublesome charge. I know he couldn't love a
Linton; and yet he'd be quite capable of marrying your fortune and
expectations. Avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. There's my picture;
and I'm his friend -- so much so, that had he thought seriously to catch you, I
should perhaps have held my tongue, and let you fall into his trap."
Miss Linton regarded
her sister-in-law with indignation.
"For shame! for
shame!" she repeated angrily; "you are worse than twenty foes, you
poisonous friend!"
"Ah! you won't
believe me, then?" said Catherine. "You think I speak from wicked
selfishness?"
"I'm certain you
do," retorted Isabella; "and I shudder at you!"
"Good!" cried
the other. "Try for yourself, if that be your spirit. I have done, and
yield the argument to your saucy insolence."
"And I must suffer
for her egotism!" she sobbed, as Mrs. Linton left the room. "All, all
is against me. She has blighted my single consolation. But she uttered
falsehoods, didn't she? Mr. Heathcliff is not a fiend. He has an honourable
soul, and a true one, or how could he remember her?"
"Banish him from your
thoughts, miss," I said. "He's a bird of bad omen -- no mate for you.
Mrs. Linton spoke strongly, and yet I can't contradict her. She is better
acquainted with his heart than I, or any one besides; and she never would
represent him as worse than he is. Honest people don't hide their deeds. How
has he been living? How has he got rich? Why is he staying at Wuthering
Heights, the house of a man whom he abhors? They say Mr. Earnshaw is worse and
worse since he came. They sit up all night together continually, and Hindley
has been borrowing money on his land, and does nothing but play and drink. I
heard only a week ago -- it was Joseph who told me -- I met him at Gimmerton.
'Nelly,' he said, 'we's hae a crowner's 'quest enow, at ahr folks. One on 'em's
a'most getten his finger cut off wi' hauding t'other fro' stickin hisseln loike
a cawlf. That's maister, yah knaw, 'at's soa up o' going tuh t' grand 'sizes.
He's noan feared o' t' bench o' judges, norther Paul, nur Peter, nur John, nur
Matthew, nor noan on 'em, not he. He fair likes -- he langs to set his brazened
face agean 'em. And yon bonny lad Heathcliff, yah mind, he's a rare un! He can
girn a laugh as well's onybody at a raight divil's jest. Does he niver say nowt
of his fine living amang us, when he goes to t' Grange? This is t' way on't. Up
at sundown; dice, brandy, cloised shutters, un can'le-light till next day at
noon; then, t' fooil gangs banning un raving to his cham'er, makking dacent
fowks dig thur fingers i' thur lugs fur varry shame; un the knave, why he can
caint his brass, un ate, un sleep, un off to his neighbour's to gossip wi' t'
wife. I' course, he tells Dame Catherine how her fathur's goold runs into his
pocket, and her fathur's son gallops down t' broad road, while he flees afore
to oppen t' pikes!' Now, Miss Linton, Joseph is an old rascal, but no liar; and
if his account of Heathcliff's conduct be true, you would never think of
desiring such a husband, would you?"
"You are leagued
with the rest, Ellen!" she replied. "I'll not listen to your
slanders. What malevolence you must have to wish to convince me that there is
no happiness in the world!"
Whether she would have
got over this fancy if left to herself, or persevered in nursing it
perpetually, I cannot say. She had little time to reflect. The day after, there
was a justice meeting at the next town. My master was obliged to attend; and
Mr. Heathcliff, aware of his absence, called rather earlier than usual.
Catherine and Isabella were sitting in the library, on hostile terms, but silent
-- the latter alarmed at her recent indiscretion, and the disclosure she had
made of her secret feelings in a transient fit of passion; the former, on
mature consideration, really offended with her companion, and if she laughed
again at her pertness, inclined to make it no laughing matter to her. She did
laugh as she saw Heathcliff pass the window. I was sweeping the hearth, and I
noticed a mischievous smile on her lips. Isabella, absorbed in her meditations,
or a book, remained till the door opened; and it was too late to attempt an
escape, which she would gladly have done had it been practicable.
"Come in; that's
right!" exclaimed the mistress gaily, pulling a chair to the fire.
"Here are two people sadly in need of a third to thaw the ice between them;
and you are the very one we should both of us choose. Heathcliff, I'm proud to
show you, at last, somebody that dotes on you more than myself. I expect you to
feel flattered. Nay, it's not Nelly; don't look at her! My poor little
sister-in-law is breaking her heart by mere contemplation of your physical and
moral beauty. It lies in your own power to be Edgar's brother. -- No, no,
Isabella; you shan't run off," she continued, arresting, with feigned
playfulness, the confounded girl, who had risen indignantly. -- "We were
quarrelling like cats about you, Heathcliff, and I was fairly beaten in
protestations of devotion and admiration; and, moreover, I was informed that if
I would but have the manners to stand aside, my rival, as she will have herself
to be, would shoot a shaft into your soul that would fix you for ever, and send
my image into eternal oblivion!"
"Catherine!"
said Isabella, calling up her dignity, and disdaining to struggle from the
tight grasp that held her, "I'd thank you to adhere to the truth, and not
slander me, even in joke. -- Mr. Heathcliff, be kind enough to bid this friend
of yours release me. She forgets that you and I are not intimate acquaintances;
and what amuses her is painful to me beyond expression."
"As the guest
answered nothing, but took his seat, and looked thoroughly indifferent what
sentiments she cherished concerning him, she turned and whispered an earnest
appeal for liberty to her tormentor.
"By no
means!" cried Mrs. Linton in answer. "I won't be named a dog in the manger
again. You shall stay. -- Now, then, Heathcliff, why don't you evince
satisfaction at my pleasant news? Isabella swears that the love Edgar has for
me is nothing to that she entertains for you. I'm sure she made some speech of
the kind -- did she not, Ellen? And she has fasted ever since the day before
yesterday's walk, from sorrow and rage that I dispatched her out of your
society under the idea of its being unacceptable."
"I think you belie
her," said Heathcliff, twisting his chair to face them. "She wishes
to be out of my society now, at any rate."
And he stared hard at
the object of discourse, as one might do at a strange, repulsive animal -- a
centipede from the Indies, for instance, which curiosity leads one to examine
in spite of the aversion it raises. The poor thing couldn't bear that. She grew
white and red in rapid succession, and, while tears beaded her lashes, bent the
strength of her small fingers to loosen the firm clutch of Catherine; and
perceiving that as fast as she raised one finger off her arm another closed
down, and she could not remove the whole together, she began to make use of her
nails; and their sharpness presently ornamented the detainer's with crescents
of red.
"There's a
tigress!" exclaimed Mrs. Linton, setting her free, and shaking her hand
with pain. "Begone, for God's sake, and hide your vixen face! How foolish
to reveal those talons to him! Can't you fancy the conclusions he'll draw? --
Look, Heathcliff! they are instruments that will do execution; you must beware
of your eyes."
"I'd wrench them
off her fingers if they ever menaced me," he answered brutally, when the
door had closed after her. "But what did you mean by teasing the creature
in that manner, Cathy? You were not speaking the truth, were you?"
"I assure you I
was," she returned. "She has been dying for your sake several weeks,
and raving about you this morning, and pouring forth a deluge of abuse, because
I represented your failings in a plain light, for the purpose of mitigating her
adoration. But don't notice it further. I wished to punish her sauciness --
that's all. I like her too well, my dear Heathcliff, to let you absolutely
seize and devour her up."
"And I like her
too ill to attempt it," said he, "except in a very ghoulish fashion.
You'd hear of odd things if I lived alone with that mawkish, waxen face. The
most ordinary would be painting on its white the colours of the rainbow, and
turning the blue eyes black, every day or two. They detestably resemble
Linton's."
"Delectably!"
observed Catherine. "They are dove's eyes -- angel's!"
"She's her
brother's heir, is she not?" he asked, after a brief silence.
"I should be sorry
to think so," returned his companion. "Half a dozen nephews shall
erase her title please Heaven! Abstract your mind from the subject at present.
You are too prone to covet your neighbour's goods. Remember this neighbour's
goods are mine."
"If they were
mine, they would be none the less that," said Heathcliff; "but though
Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcely mad; and, in short, we'll dismiss
the matter, as you advise."
From their tongues they
did dismiss it; and Catherine, probably, from her thoughts. The other, I felt
certain, recalled it often in the course of the evening. I saw him smile to
himself -- grin rather -- and lapse into ominous musing whenever Mrs. Linton
had occasion to be absent from the apartment.
I determined to watch
his movements. My heart invariably cleaved to the master's, in preference to
Catherine's side -- with reason, I imagined, for he was kind, and trustful, and
honourable; and she -- she could not be called the opposite, yet she seemed to
allow herself such wide latitude that I had little faith in her principles, and
still less sympathy for her feelings. I wanted something to happen which might
have the effect of freeing both Wuthering Heights and the Grange of Mr.
Heathcliff quietly, leaving us as we had been prior to his advent. His visits
were a continual nightmare to me, and, I suspected, to my master also. His
abode at the Heights was an oppression past explaining. I felt that God had
forsaken the stray sheep there to its own wicked wanderings, and an evil beast
prowled between it and the fold, waiting his time to spring and destroy.
Sometimes, while
meditating on these things in solitude, I've got up in a sudden terror, and put
on my bonnet to go see how all was at the farm; I've persuaded my conscience
that it was a duty to warn him how people talked regarding his ways; and then
I've recollected his confirmed bad habits, and, hopeless of benefiting him,
have flinched from re-entering the dismal house, doubting if I could bear to be
taken at my word.
One time, I passed the
old gate, going out of my way, on a journey to Gimmerton. It was about the
period that my narrative has reached -- a bright, frosty afternoon; the ground
bare, and the road hard and dry.
I came to a stone where
the highway branches off on to the moor at your left hand; a rough sand-pillar,
with the letters W. H. cut on its north side, on the east, G., and on the
south-west, T. G. It serves as guide-post to the Grange, and Heights, and
village.
The sun shone yellow on
its grey head, reminding me of summer; and I cannot say why, but all at once, a
gush of child's sensations flowed into my heart. Hindley and I held it a
favourite spot twenty years before.
I gazed long at the
weather-worn block; and, stooping down, perceived a hole near the bottom still
full of snail-shells and pebbles which we were fond of storing there with more
perish- able things -- and, as fresh as reality, it appeared that I beheld my
early playmate seated on the withered turf, his dark, square head bent forward,
and his little hand scooping out the earth with a piece of slate.
"Poor
Hindley!" I exclaimed involuntarily.
I started. My bodily
eye was cheated into a momentary belief that the child lifted its face and
stared straight into mine! It vanished in a twinkling; but immediately I felt
an irresistible yearning to be at the Heights. Superstition urged me to comply
with this impulse. Supposing he should be dead, I thought, or should die soon!
-- supposing it were a sign of death!
The nearer I got to the
house the more agitated I grew; and on catching sight of it I trembled every
limb. The apparition had outstripped me. It stood looking through the gate.
That was my first idea on observing an elf-locked, brown-eyed boy setting his
ruddy countenance against the bars. Further reflection suggested this must be
Hareton, my Hareton, not altered greatly since I left him, ten months since.
"God bless thee,
darling!" I cried, forgetting instantaneously my foolish fears.
"Hareton, it's Nelly -- Nelly, thy nurse."
He retreated out of
arm's length, and picked up a large flint.
"I am come to see
thy father, Hareton," I added, guessing from the action that Nelly, if she
lived in his memory at all, was not recognized as one with me.
He raised his missile
to hurl it. I commenced a soothing speech, but could not stay his hand. The
stone struck my bonnet; and then ensued, from the stammering lips of the little
fellow, a string of curses, which, whether he comprehended them or not, were
delivered with practised emphasis, and distorted his baby features into a
shocking expression of malignity. You may be certain this grieved more than
angered me. Fit to cry, I took an orange from my pocket, and offered it to
propitiate him. He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold, as if he
fancied I only intended to tempt and disappoint him. I showed another, keeping
it out of his reach.
"Who has taught
you those fine words, my bairn?" I inquired -- "the curate?"
"Damn the curate,
and thee! Gie me that," he replied.
"Tell us where you
got your lessons, and you shall have it," said I. "Who's your
master?"
"Devil
daddy," was his answer.
"And what do you
learn from daddy?" I continued.
He jumped at the fruit.
I raised it higher. "What does he teach you?" I asked.
"Naught," said
he, "but to keep out of his gait. Daddy cannot bide me, because I swear at
him."
"Ah! and the devil
teaches you to swear at daddy?" I observed.
"Ay -- nay,"
he drawled.
"Who, then?"
"Heathcliff."
I asked if he liked Mr.
Heathcliff.
"Ay!" he answered
again.
Desiring to have his
reasons for liking him, I could only gather the sentences, "I known't. He
pays dad back what he gies to me; he curses daddy for cursing me. He says I mun
do as I will."
"And the curate
does not teach you to read and write then?" I pursued.
"No, I was told
the curate should have his ---- teeth dashed down his ---- throat if he stepped
over the threshold. Heathcliff had promised that!"
I put the orange in his
hand, and bade him tell his father that a woman called Nelly Dean was waiting
to speak with him by the garden gate. He went up the walk, and entered the
house; but instead of Hindley, Heathcliff appeared on the door stones; and I
turned directly and ran down the road as hard as ever I could race, making no
halt till I gained the guide-post, and feeling as scared as if I had raised a
goblin. This is not much connected with Miss Isabella's affair, except that it
urged me to resolve further on mounting vigilant guard, and doing my utmost to
check the spread of such bad influence at the Grange, even though I should wake
a domestic storm by thwarting Mrs. Linton's pleasure.
The next time
Heathcliff came, my young lady chanced to be feeding some pigeons in the court.
She had never spoken a word to her sister-in-law for three days; but she had
likewise dropped her fretful complaining, and we found it a great comfort.
Heathcliff had not the habit of bestowing a single unnecessary civility on Miss
Linton, I knew. Now, as soon as he beheld her, his first precaution was to take
a sweeping survey of the house-front. I was standing by the kitchen window, but
I drew out of sight. He then stepped across the pavement to her, and said
something. She seemed embarrassed and desirous of getting away; to prevent it,
he laid his hand on her arm. She averted her face. He apparently put some
question which she had no mind to answer. There was another rapid glance at the
house; and supposing himself unseen, the scoundrel had the impudence to embrace
her.
"Judas!
traitor!" I ejaculated. "You are a hypocrite, too, are you -- a
deliberate deceiver?"
"Who is,
Nelly?" said Catherine's voice at my elbow. I had been over-intent on
watching the pair outside to mark her entrance.
"Your worthless
friend!" I answered warmly -- "the sneaking rascal yonder. Ah, he has
caught a glimpse of us; he is coming in! I wonder will he have the heart to
find a plausible excuse for making love to miss, when he told you he hated
her?"
Mrs. Linton saw
Isabella tear herself free, and run into the garden; and a minute after
Heathcliff opened the door. I couldn't withhold giving some loose to my
indignation; but Catherine angrily insisted on silence, and threatened to order
me out of the kitchen, if I dared to be so presumptuous as to put in my
insolent tongue.
"To hear you,
people might think you were the mistress!" she cried. "You want
setting down in your right place! -- Heathcliff, what are you about, raising
this stir? I said you must let Isabella alone! I beg you will, unless you are
tired of being received here, and wish Linton to draw the bolts against
you!"
"God forbid that
he should try!" answered the black villain. I detested him just then.
"God keep him meek and patient! Every day I grow madder after sending him
to heaven!"
"Hush!" said
Catherine, shutting the inner door. "Don't vex me. Why have you
disregarded my request? Did she come across you on purpose?"
"What is it to
you?" he growled. "I have a right to kiss her, if she chooses; and
you have no right to object. I am not your husband; you needn't be jealous of
me."
"I'm not jealous
of you," replied the mistress -- "I'm jealous for you. Clear your
face; you shan't scowl at me! If you like Isabella, you shall marry her. But do
you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff. There, you won't answer. I'm certain
you don't."
"And would Mr.
Linton approve of his sister marrying that man?" I inquired.
"Mr. Linton should
approve," returned my lady decisively.
"He might spare
himself the trouble," said Heathcliff; "I could do as well without
his approbation. And as to you, Catherine, I have a mind to speak a few words
now, while we are at it. I want you to be aware that I know you have treated me
infernally -- infernally! Do you hear? And if you flatter yourself that I don't
perceive it, you are a fool; and if you think I can be consoled by sweet words,
you are an idiot; and if you fancy I'll suffer unrevenged, I'll convince you of
the contrary in a very little while. Meantime, thank you for telling me your
sister-in-law's secret. I swear I'll make the most of it. And stand you
aside."
"What new phase of
his character is this?" exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in amazement. "I've
treated you infernally, and you'll take your revenge! How will you take it,
ungrateful brute? How have I treated you infernally?"
"I seek no revenge
on you," replied Heathcliff, less vehemently. "That's not the plan.
The tyrant grinds down his slaves, and they don't turn against him; they crush
those beneath them. You are welcome to torture me to death for your amusement,
only allow me to amuse myself a little in the same style, and refrain from
insult as much as you are able. Having levelled my palace, don't erect a hovel
and complacently admire your own charity in giving me that for a home. lf I imagined
you really wished me to marry Isabel, I'd cut my throat!"
"Oh, the evil is
that I am not jealous, is it?" cried Catherine. "Well, I won't repeat
my offer of a wife. It is as bad as offering Satan a lost soul. Your bliss
lies, like his, in inflicting misery. You prove it. Edgar is restored from the
ill-temper he gave way to at your coming. I begin to be secure and tranquil;
and you, restless to know us at peace, appear resolved on exciting a quarrel.
Quarrel with Edgar, if you please, Heathcliff, and deceive his sister. You'll
hit on exactly the most efficient method of revenging yourself on me."
The conversation
ceased. Mrs. Linton sat down by the fire, flushed and gloomy. The spirit which
served her was growing intractable; she could neither lay nor control it. He
stood on the hearth with folded arms, brooding on his evil thoughts; and in
this position I left them to seek the master, who was wondering what kept
Catherine below so long.
"Ellen," said
he, when I entered, "have you seen your mistress?"
"Yes; she's in the
kitchen, sir," I answered. "She's sadly put out by Mr. Heathcliff's
behaviour; and, indeed, I do think it's time to arrange his visits on another
footing. There's harm in being too soft, and now it's come to this ---- "
And I related the scene in the court, and, as near as I dared, the whole
subsequent dispute. I fancied it could not be very prejudicial to Mrs. Linton,
unless she made it so afterwards by assuming the defensive for her guest. Edgar
Linton had difficulty in hearing me to the close. His first words revealed that
he did not clear his wife of blame.
"This is
insufferable!" he exclaimed. "It is disgraceful that she should own
him for a friend, and force his company on me! Call me two men out of the hall,
Ellen. Catherine shall linger no longer to argue with the low ruffian. I have
humoured her enough."
He descended, and
bidding the servants wait in the passage, went, followed by me, to the kitchen.
Its occupants had recommenced their angry discussion. Mrs. Linton, at least,
was scolding with renewed vigour. Heathcliff had moved to the window, and hung
his head, somewhat cowed by her violent rating apparently. He saw the master
first, and made a hasty motion that she should be silent; which she obeyed
abruptly, on discovering the reason of his intimation.
"How is
this?" said Linton, addressing her. "What notion of propriety must
you have to remain here, after the language which has been held to you by that
blackguard? I suppose, because it is his ordinary talk, you think nothing of
it. You are habituated to his baseness, and, perhaps, imagine I can get used to
it too."
"Have you been
listening at the door, Edgar?" asked the mistress, in a tone particularly
calculated to provoke her husband, implying both carelessness and contempt of
his irritation. Heathcliff, who had raised his eyes at the former speech, gave
a sneering laugh at the latter -- on purpose, it seemed, to draw Mr. Linton's
attention to him. He succeeded; but Edgar did not mean to entertain him with
any high flights of passion.
"I have been so
far forbearing with you, sir," he said quietly -- "not that I was
ignorant of your miserable, degraded character, but I felt you were only partly
responsible for that; and Catherine wishing to keep up your acquaintance, I
acquiesced -- foolishly. Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate
the most virtuous. For that cause, and to prevent worse consequences, I shall
deny you hereafter admission into this house, and give notice now that I
require your instant departure. Three minutes' delay will render it involuntary
and ignominious."
Heathcliff measured the
height and breadth of the speaker with an eye full of derision.
"Cathy, this lamb
of yours threatens like a bull!" he said. "It is in danger of
splitting its skull against my knuckles. -- By God, Mr. Linton, I'm mortally
sorry that you are not worth knocking down!"
My master glanced
towards the passage, and signed me to fetch the men. He had no intention of
hazarding a personal encounter. I obeyed the hint; but Mrs. Linton, suspecting
something, followed; and when I attempted to call them, she pulled me back,
slammed the door to, and locked it.
"Fair means!"
she said, in answer to her husband's look of angry surprise. "If you have
not courage to attack him, make an apology, or allow yourself to be beaten. It
will correct you of feigning more valour than you possess. No, I'll swallow the
key before you shall get it! I'm delightfully rewarded for my kindness to each!
After constant indulgence of one's weak nature, and the other's bad one, I earn
for thanks two samples of blind ingratitude, stupid to absurdity! Edgar, I was
defending you and yours; and I wish Heathcliff may flog you sick for daring to
think an evil thought of me!"
It did not need the
medium of a flogging to produce that effect on the master. He tried to wrest
the key from Catherine's grasp, and for safety she flung it into the hottest
part of the fire; whereupon Mr. Edgar was taken with a nervous trembling, and
his countenance grew deadly pale. For his life he could not avert that excess
of emotion; mingled anguish and humiliation overcame him completely. He leant
on the back of a chair, and covered his face.
"O heavens! In old
days this would win you knighthood!" exclaimed Mrs. Linton. "We are
vanquished! we are vanquished! Heathcliff would as soon lift a finger at you as
a king would march his army against a colony of mice. Cheer up; you shan't be
hurt! Your type is not a lamb; it's a sucking leveret."
"I wish you joy of
the milk-blooded coward, Cathy!" said her friend. "I compliment you
on your taste. And that is the slavering, shivering thing you preferred to me!
I would not strike him with my fist, but I'd kick him with my foot, and experience
considerable satisfaction. Is he weeping, or is he going to faint for
fear?"
The fellow approached
and gave the chair on which Linton rested a push. He'd better have kept his
distance. My master quickly sprang erect, and struck him full on the throat a
blow that would have levelled a slighter man. It took his breath for a minute;
and while he choked, Mr. Linton walked out by the back door into the yard, and
from thence to the front entrance.
"There! you've
done with coming here," cried Catherine. "Get away, now. He'll return
with a brace of pistols and half a dozen assistants. If he did overhear us, of
course he'd never forgive you. You've played me an ill turn, Heathcliff. But go
-- make haste! I'd rather see Edgar at bay than you."
"Do you suppose
I'm going with that blow burning in my gullet?" he thundered. "By
hell, no! I'll crush his ribs in like a rotten hazel-nut before I cross the
threshold! If I don't floor him now, I shall murder him some time; so, as you
value his existence, let me get at him!"
"He is not
coming," I interposed, framing a bit of a lie. "There's the coachman
and the two gardeners. You'll surely not wait to be thrust into the road by
them! Each has a bludgeon; and master will very likely be watching from the
parlour windows, to see that they fulfil his orders."
The gardeners and
coachman were there, but Linton was with them. They had already entered the
court. Heathcliff, on second thoughts, resolved to avoid a struggle against the
three underlings. He seized the poker, smashed the lock from the inner door,
and made his escape as they tramped in.
Mrs. Linton, who was
very much excited, bade me accompany her upstairs. She did not know my share in
contributing to the disturbance, and I was anxious to keep her in ignorance.
"I'm nearly
distracted, Nelly!" she exclaimed, throwing herself on the sofa. "A
thousand smiths' hammers are beating in my head! Tell Isabella to shun me; this
uproar is owing to her; and should she or any one else aggravate my anger at
present, I shall get wild. And, Nelly, say to Edgar, if you see him again
to-night, that I'm in danger of being seriously ill. I wish it may prove true.
He has startled and distressed me shockingly. I want to frighten him. Besides,
he might come and begin a string of abuse or complainings. I'm certain I should
recriminate, and God knows where we should end! Will you do so, my good Nelly?
You are aware that I am no way blamable in this matter. What possessed him to
turn listener? Heathcliff's talk was outrageous after you left us; but I could
soon have diverted him from Isabella, and the rest meant nothing. Now all is
dashed wrong, by the fool's craving to hear evil of self that haunts some
people like a demon. Had Edgar never gathered our conversation, he would never
have been the worse for it. Really, when he opened on me in that unreasonable
tone of displeasure after I had scolded Heathcliff till I was hoarse for him, I
did not care hardly what they did to each other -- especially as I felt that,
however the scene closed, we should all be driven asunder for nobody knows how
long! Well, if I cannot keep Heathcliff for my friend -- if Edgar will be mean
and jealous -- I'll try to break their hearts by breaking my own. That will be
a prompt way of finishing all, when I am pushed to extremity. But it's a deed
to be reserved for a forlorn hope; I'd not take Linton by surprise with it. To
this point he has been discreet in dreading to provoke me. You must represent
the peril of quitting that policy, and remind him of my passionate temper, verging,
when kindled, on frenzy. I wish you could dismiss that apathy out of that
countenance, and look rather more anxious about me."
The stolidity with
which I received these instructions was, no doubt, rather exasperating, for
they were delivered in perfect sincerity; but I believed a person who could
plan the turning of her fits of passion to account beforehand might, by
exerting her will, manage to control herself tolerably, even while under their
influence; and I did not wish to "frighten" her husband, as she said,
and multiply his annoyances for the purpose of serving her selfishness.
Therefore I said nothing when I met the master coming towards the parlour; but
I took the liberty of turning back to listen whether they would resume their
quarrel together. He began to speak first.
"Remain where you
are, Catherine," he said, without any anger in his voice, but with much
sorrowful despondency. "I shall not stay. I am neither come to wrangle nor
be reconciled; but I wish just to learn whether, after this evening's events,
you intend to continue your intimacy with ---- "
"Oh, for mercy's
sake," interrupted the mistress, stamping her foot -- "for mercy's
sake, let us hear no more of it now! Your cold blood cannot be worked into a
fever. Your veins are full of ice-water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of
such chillness makes them dance."
"To get rid of me,
answer my question," persevered Mr. Linton. "You must answer it, and
that violence does not alarm me. I have found that you can be as stoical as any
one, when you please. Will you give up Heathcliff hereafter, or will you give
up me? It is impossible for you to be my friend and his at the same time; and I
absolutely require to know which you choose."
"I require to be
let alone!" exclaimed Catherine furiously. "I demand it! Don't you
see I can scarcely stand? Edgar, you -- you leave me!"
She rang the bell till
it broke with a twang. I entered leisurely. It was enough to try the temper of
a saint, such senseless, wicked rages! There she lay dashing her head against
the arm of the sofa, and grinding her teeth, so that you might fancy she would
crash them to splinters! Mr. Linton stood looking at her in sudden compunction
and fear. He told me to fetch some water. She had no breath for speaking. I brought
a glass full; and as she would not drink, I sprinkled it on her face. In a few
seconds she stretched herself out stiff, and turned up her eyes, while her
cheeks, at once blanched and livid, assumed the aspect of death. Linton looked
terrified.
"There is nothing
in the world the matter," I whispered. I did not want him to yield, though
I could not help being afraid in my heart.
"She has blood on
her lips!" he said, shuddering.
"Never mind!"
I answered tartly. And I told him how she had resolved, previous to his coming,
on exhibiting a fit of frenzy. I incautiously gave the account aloud, and she
heard me, for she started up, her hair flying over her shoulders, her eyes
flashing, the muscles of her neck and arms standing out preternaturally. I made
up my mind for broken bones at least; but she only glared about her for an
instant, and then rushed from the room. The master directed me to follow. I
did, to her chamber door. She hindered me from going farther by securing it
against me.
As she never offered to
descend to breakfast next morning, I went to ask whether she would have some
carried up. "No!" she replied peremptorily. The same question was
repeated at dinner and tea, and again on the morrow after, and received the
same answer. Mr. Linton, on his part, spent his time in the library, and did
not inquire concerning his wife's occupations. Isabella and he had had an
hour's interview, during which he tried to elicit from her some sentiment of
proper horror for Heathcliff's advances; but he could make nothing of her
evasive replies, and was obliged to close the examination unsatisfactorily,
adding, however, a solemn warning that if she were so insane as to encourage
that worthless suitor, it would dissolve all bonds of relationship between
herself and him.
While Miss Linton moped
about the park and garden, always silent, and almost always in tears; and her
brother shut himself up among books that he never opened -- wearying, I
guessed, with a continual vague expectation that Catherine, repenting her
conduct, would come of her own accord to ask pardon, and seek a reconciliation;
and she fasted pertinaciously under the idea, probably, that at every meal,
Edgar was ready to choke for her absence, and pride alone held him from running
to cast himself at her feet; I went about my household duties, convinced that
the Grange had but one sensible soul in its walls, and that lodged in my body.
I wasted no condolences
on miss, nor any expostulations on my mistress, nor did I pay attention to the
sighs of my master, who yearned to hear his lady's name, since he might not
hear her voice.
I determined they
should come about as they pleased for me; and though it was a tiresomely slow
process, I began to rejoice at length in a faint dawn of its progress, as I
thought at first.
Mrs. Linton, on the
third day, unbarred her door; and having finished the water in her pitcher and
decanter, desired a renewed supply, and a basin of gruel, for she believed she
was dying. That I set down as a speech meant for Edgar's ears; I believed no
such thing, so I kept it to myself, and brought her some tea and dry toast.
She ate and drank
eagerly; and sank back on her pillow again, clenching her hands and groaning.
"Oh, I will
die," she exclaimed, "since no one cares anything about me. I wish I
had not taken that."
Then a good while after
I heard her murmur,
"No, I'll not die
-- he'd be glad -- he does not love me at all -- he would never miss me!"
"Did you want
anything, ma'am?" I inquired, still preserving my external composure, in
spite of her ghastly countenance and strange, exaggerated manner.
"What is that
apathetic being doing?" she demanded, pushing the thick entangled locks
from her wasted face. "Has he fallen into a lethargy, or is he dead?"
"Neither,"
replied I, "if you mean Mr. Linton. He's tolerably well, I think, though
his studies occupy him rather more than they ought. He is continually among his
books, since he has no other society."
I should not have
spoken so if I had known her true condition, but I could not get rid of the
notion that she acted a part of her disorder.
"Among his
books!" she cried, confounded. "And I dying -- I on the brink of the
grave! My God! does he know how I'm altered?" continued she, staring at
her reflection in a mirror hanging against the opposite wall. "Is that
Catherine Linton? He imagines me in a pet -- in play, perhaps. Cannot you
inform him that it is frightful earnest? Nelly, if it be not too late, as soon
as I learn how he feels I'll choose between these two -- either to starve at
once (that would be no punishment unless he had a heart), or to recover, and
leave the country. Are you speaking the truth about him now? Take care. Is he
actually so utterly indifferent for my life?"
"Why, ma'am,"
I answered, "the master has no idea of your being deranged; and, of
course, he does not fear that you will let yourself die of hunger."
"You think not?
Cannot you tell him I will?" she returned. "Persuade him; speak of
your own mind; say you are certain I will!"
"No, you forget,
Mrs. Linton," I suggested, "that you have eaten some food with a
relish this evening, and tomorrow you will perceive its good effects."
"If I were only
sure it would kill him," she interrupted, "I'd kill myself directly!
These three awful nights I've never closed my lids; and oh, I've been
tormented! I've been haunted, Nelly! But I begin to fancy you don't like me.
How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they
could not avoid loving me. And they have all turned to enemies in a few hours.
They have, I'm positive -- the people here. How dreary to meet death,
surrounded by their cold faces! Isabella, terrified and repelled, afraid to
enter the room; it would be so dreadful to watch Catherine go! And Edgar
standing solemnly by to see it over; then offering prayers of thanks to God for
restoring peace to his house, and going back to his books! What in the name of
all that feels has he to do with books when I am dying?"
She could not bear the
notion which I had put into her head of Mr. Linton's philosophical resignation.
Tossing about, she increased her feverish bewilderment to madness, and tore the
pillow with her teeth; then raising herself up, all burning, desired that I
would open the window. We were in the middle of winter, the wind blew strong
from the north-east, and I objected. Both the expressions flitting over her
face and the changes of her moods began to alarm me terribly, and brought to my
recollection her former illness, and the doctor's injunction that she should
not be crossed. A minute previously she was violent; now, supported on one arm,
and not noticing my refusal to obey her, she seemed to find childish diversion
in pulling the feathers from the rents she had just made, and ranging them on
the sheet according to their different species. Her mind had strayed to other
associations.
"That's a
turkey's," she murmured to herself, "and this is a wild duck's, and
this is a pigeon's. Ah, they put pigeons' feathers in the pillows; no wonder I
couldn't die! Let me take care to throw it on the floor when I lie down. And
here is a moor-cock's; and this -- I should know it among a thousand -- it's a
lapwing's. Bonny bird, wheeling over our heads in the middle of the moor. It
wanted to get to its nest, for the clouds had touched the swells, and it felt
rain coming. This feather was picked up from the heath; the bird was not shot.
We saw its nest in the winter, full of little skeletons. Heathcliff set a trap
over it, and the old ones dare not come. I made him promise he'd never shoot a
lap- wing after that, and he didn't. Yes, here are more! Did he shoot my
lapwings, Nelly? Are they red, any of them? Let me look."
"Give over with
that baby-work!" I interrupted, dragging the pillow away, and turning the
holes towards the mattress, for she was removing its contents by handfuls.
"Lie down and shut your eyes; you're wandering. There's a mess! The down
is flying about like snow."
I went here and there
collecting it.
"I see in you,
Nelly," she continued dreamily, "an aged woman. You have gray hair
and bent shoulders. This bed is the fairy cave under Peniston Crag, and you are
gathering elf-bolts to hurt our heifers, pretending, while I am near, that they
are only locks of wool. That's what you'll come to fifty years hence. I know
you are not so now. I'm not wandering; you're mistaken, or else I should
believe you really were that withered hag, and I should think I was under
Peniston Crag; and I'm conscious it's night, and there are two candles on the
table making the black press shine like jet."
"The black press?
Where is that?" I asked. "You are talking in your sleep!"
"It's against the
wall, as it always is," she replied. "It does appear odd. I see a face
in it!"
"There's no press
in the room, and never was," said I, resuming my seat, and looping up the
curtain, that I might watch her.
"Don't you see
that face?" she inquired, gazing earnestly at the mirror.
And say what I could, I
was incapable of making her comprehend it to be her own; so I rose and covered
it with a shawl.
"It's behind there
still!" she pursued anxiously. "And it stirred. Who is it? I hope it
will not come out when you are gone! O Nelly, the room is haunted! I'm afraid
of being alone!"
I took her hand in
mine, and bade her be composed, for a succession of shudders convulsed her
frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards the glass.
"There's nobody
here!" I insisted. "It was yourself Mrs. Linton. You knew it a while since."
"Myself!" she
gasped; "and the clock is striking twelve! It's true, then; that's
dreadful!"
Her fingers clutched
the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes. I attempted to steal to the door,
with an intention of calling her husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing
shriek. The shawl had dropped from the frame.
"Why, what is the
matter?" cried I. "Who is coward now? Wake up! That is the glass --
the mirror, Mrs. Linton; and you see yourself in it; and there am I too, by
your side."
Trembling and
bewildered, she held me fast, but the horror gradually passed from her
countenance. Its paleness gave place to a glow of shame.
"Oh dear! I
thought I was at home," she sighed -- "I thought I was lying in my
chamber at Wuthering Heights. Because I'm weak, my brain got confused, and I
screamed unconsciously. Don't say anything, but stay with me. I dread sleeping.
My dreams appall me."
"A sound sleep
would do you good, ma'am," I answered; "and I hope this suffering
will prevent your trying starving again."
"Oh, if I were but
in my own bed in the old house!" she went on bitterly, wringing her hands.
"And that wind sounding in the firs by the lattice. Do let me feel it --
it comes straight down the moor -- do let me have one breath!"
To pacify her, I held
the casement ajar a few seconds. A cold blast rushed through. I closed it, and
returned to my post. She lay still now, her face bathed in tears. Exhaustion of
body had entirely subdued her spirit. Our fiery Catherine was no better than a
wailing child.
"How long is it
since I shut myself in here?" she asked, suddenly reviving.
"It was Monday
evening," I replied; "and this is Thursday night, or rather Friday
morning, at present."
"What! of the same
week?" she exclaimed. "Only that brief time?"
"Long enough to
live on nothing but cold water and ill-temper," observed I.
"Well, it seems a
weary number of hours," she muttered doubtfully. "It must be more. I
remember being in the parlour after they had quarrelled, and Edgar being cruelly
provoking, and me running into this room desperate. As soon as ever I had
barred the door, utter blackness overwhelmed me, and I fell on the floor. I
couldn't explain to Edgar how certain I felt of having a fit, or going raging
mad, if he persisted in teasing me. I had no command of tongue or brain, and he
did not guess my agony perhaps; it barely left me sense to try to escape from
him and his voice. Before I recovered sufficiently to see and hear, it began to
be dawn; and, Nelly, I'll tell you what I thought, and what has kept recurring
and recurring till I feared for my reason. I thought as I lay there, with my
head against that table leg, and my eyes dimly discerning the gray square of
the window, that I was enclosed in the oak-panelled bed at home; and my heart
ached with some great grief which, just waking, I could not recollect. I
pondered, and worried myself to discover what it could be; and, most strangely,
the whole last seven years of my life grew a blank! I did not recall that they
had been at all. I was a child; my father was just buried, and my misery arose
from the separation that Hindley had ordered between me and Heathcliff. I was
laid alone, for the first time; and rousing from a dismal doze, after a night
of weeping, I lifted my hand to push the panels aside. It struck the table-top!
I swept it along the carpet; and then memory burst in. My late anguish was
swallowed in a paroxysm of despair. I cannot say why I felt so wildly wretched.
It must have been temporary derangement, for there is scarcely cause. But,
supposing at twelve years old I had been wrenched from the Heights, and every
early association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time, and been
converted at a stroke into Mrs. Linton, the lady of Thrushcross Grange, and the
wife of a stranger, an exile and outcast thenceforth from what had been my
world -- you may fancy a glimpse of the abyss where I grovelled! Shake your
head as you will, Nelly, you have helped to unsettle me! You should have spoken
to Edgar -- indeed you should -- and compelled him to leave me quiet! Oh, I'm
burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage
and hardy and free, and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am
I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I'm
sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the
window again wide -- fasten it open! Quick! Why don't you move?"
"Because I won't
give you your death of cold," I answered.
"You won't give me
a chance of life, you mean," she said sullenly. "However, I'm not
helpless yet. I'll open it myself."
And sliding from the
bed before I could hinder her, she crossed the room, walking very uncertainly,
threw it back, and bent out, careless of the frosty air that cut about her
shoulders as keen as a knife. I entreated, and finally attempted to force her
to retire. But I soon found her delirious strength much surpassed mine (she was
delirious, I became convinced by her subsequent actions and ravings). There was
no moon, and everything beneath lay in misty darkness. Not a light gleamed from
any house, far or near -- all had been extinguished long ago; and those at
Wuthering Heights were never visible -- still she asserted she caught their
shining.
"Look!" she
cried eagerly; "that's my room with the candle in it, and the tree swaying
before it; and the other candle is in Joseph's garret. Joseph sits up late,
doesn't he? He's waiting till I come home, that he may lock the gate. Well,
he'll wait a while yet. It's a rough journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and
we must pass by Gimmerton Kirk to go that journey! We've braved its ghosts
often together, and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to
come. But, Heathcliff, if I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I'll
keep you. I'll not lie there by myself. They may bury me twelve feet deep, and
throw the church down over me, but I won't rest till you are with me. I never
will!"
She paused, and resumed
with a strange smile. "He's considering; he'd rather I'd come to him! Find
a way, then -- not through that kirkyard. You are slow! Be content; you always
followed me!"
Perceiving it vain to
argue against her insanity, I was planning how I could reach something to wrap
about her, without quitting my hold of herself (for I could not trust her alone
by the gaping lattice), when, to my consternation, I heard the rattle of the
door-handle, and Mr. Linton entered. He had only then come from the library,
and in passing through the lobby had noticed our talking, and been attracted by
curiosity, or fear, to examine what it signified, at that late hour.
"O 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 ---- "
He was silent. The
haggardness of Mrs. Linton's appearance smote him speechless, and he could only
glance from her to me in horrified astonishment.
"She's been
fretting here," I continued, "and eating scarcely anything, and never
complaining. She would admit none of us till this evening, and so we couldn't
inform you of her state, as we were not aware of it ourselves; but it is
nothing."
I felt I uttered my
explanations awkwardly. The master frowned. "It is nothing, is it, Ellen
Dean?" he said sternly. "You shall account more clearly for keeping
me ignorant of this!" And he took his wife in his arms, and looked at her
with anguish.
At first she gave him
no glance of recognition; he was invisible to her abstracted gaze. The delirium
was not fixed, however; having weaned her eyes from contemplating the outer
darkness, by degrees she centred her attention on him, and discovered who it
was that held her.
"Ah! you are come,
are you, Edgar Linton?" she said, with angry animation. "You are one
of those things that are ever found when least wanted, and when you are wanted,
never! I suppose we shall have plenty of lamentations now -- I see we shall;
but they can't keep me from my narrow home out yonder -- my resting- place,
where I'm bound before spring is over! There it is -- not among the Lintons,
mind, under the chapel- roof, but in the open air, with a head-stone; and you
may please yourself whether you go to them or come to me!"
"Catherine, what
have you done?" commenced the master. "Am I nothing to you any more?
Do you love that wretch Heath ---- "
"Hush!" cried
Mrs. Linton -- "hush, this moment! You mention that name, and I end the
matter instantly by a spring from the window! What you touch at present you may
have; but my soul will be on that hill- top before you lay hands on me again. I
don't want you, Edgar. I'm past wanting you. Return to your books. I'm glad you
possess a consolation, for all you had in me is gone."
"Her mind wanders,
sir," I interposed -- "she has been talking nonsense the whole
evening; but let her have quiet and proper attendance, and she'll rally.
Hereafter we must be cautious how we vex her."
"I desire no
further advice from you," answered Mr. Linton. "You knew your
mistress's nature, and you encouraged me to harass her. And not to give me one
hint of how she has been these three days! It was heartless! Months of sickness
could not cause such a change!"
I began to defend
myself, thinking it too bad to be blamed for another's wicked waywardness.
"I knew Mrs. Linton's nature to be headstrong and domineering," cried
I, "but I didn't know that you wished to foster her fierce temper. I
didn't know that, to humour her, I should wink at Mr. Heathcliff. I performed
the duty of a faithful servant in telling you, and I have got a faithful
servant's wages! Well, it will teach me to be careful next time. Next time you
may gather intelligence for yourself."
"The next time you
bring a tale to me you shall quit my service, Ellen Dean," he replied.
"You'd rather hear
nothing about it, I suppose, then, Mr. Linton?" said I. "Heathcliff
has your permission to come a-courting to miss, and to drop in at every
opportunity your absence offers, on purpose to poison the mistress against
you?"
Confused as Catherine
was, her wits were alert at applying our conversation.
"Ah! Nelly has
played traitor!" she exclaimed passionately -- "Nelly is my hidden
enemy! You witch! So you do seek elf-bolts to hurt us! Let me go, and I'll make
her rue! I'll make her howl a recantation!"
A maniac's fury kindled
under her brows. She struggled desperately to disengage herself from Linton's
arms. I felt no inclination to tarry the event; and resolving to seek medical
aid on my own responsibility, I quitted the chamber.
In passing the garden
to reach the road, at a place where a bridle hook is driven into the wall, I
saw something white moved irregularly, evidently by another agent than the
wind. Notwithstanding my hurry, I stayed to examine it, lest ever after I
should have the conviction impressed on my imagination that it was a creature
of the other world. My surprise and perplexity were great on discovering, by
touch more than vision, Miss Isabella's springer, Fanny, suspended by a
handkerchief,and nearly at its last gasp. I quickly released the animal, and
lifted it into the garden. I had seen it follow its mistress upstairs when she
went to bed, and wondered much how it could have got out there, and what
mischievous person had treated it so. While untying the knot round the hook, it
seemed to me that I repeatedly caught the beat of horses' feet galloping at
some distance; but there were such a number of things to occupy my reflections
that I hardly gave the circumstance a thought, though it was a strange sound in
that place at two o'clock in the morning.
Mr. Kenneth was
fortunately just issuing from his house to see a patient in the village as I
came up the street, and my account of Catherine Linton's malady induced him to
accompany me back immediately. He was a plain, rough man; and he made no
scruple to speak his doubts of her surviving this second attack, unless she
were more submissive to his directions than she had shown herself before.
"Nelly Dean,"
said he, "I can't help fancying there's an extra cause for this. What has
there been to do at the Grange? We've odd reports up here. A stout, hearty lass
like Catherine does not fall ill for a trifle; and that sort of people should
not, either. It's hard work bringing them through fevers and such things. How
did it begin?"
"The master will
inform you," I answered; "but you are acquainted with the Earnshaws'
violent dispositions, and Mrs. Linton caps them all. I may say this; it
commenced in a quarrel. She was struck during a tempest of passion with a kind
of fit. That's her account, at least, for she flew off in the height of it, and
locked herself up. Afterwards she refused to eat, and now she alternately raves
and remains in a half dream, knowing those about her, but having her mind
filled with all sorts of strange ideas and illusions."
"Mr. Linton will
be sorry?" observed Kenneth interrogatively.
"Sorry? He'll
break his heart should anything happen!" I replied. "Don't alarm him
more than necessary."
"Well, I told him
to beware," said my companion; "and he must bide the consequences of
neglecting my warning. Hasn't he been intimate with Mr. Heathcliff
lately?"
"Heathcliff
frequently visits at the Grange," answered I, "though more on the
strength of the mistress having known him when a boy than because the master
likes his company. At present he's discharged from the trouble of calling,
owing to some presumptuous aspirations after Miss Linton which he manifested. I
hardly think he'll be taken in again."
"And does Miss
Linton turn a cold shoulder on him?" was the doctor's next question.
"I'm not in her
confidence," returned I, reluctant to continue the subject.
"No; she's a sly
one," he remarked, shaking his head. "She keeps her own counsel. But
she's a real little fool. I have it from good authority that last night (and a
pretty night it was) she and Heathcliff were walking in the plantation at the
back of your house above two hours; and he pressed her not to go in again, but
just mount his horse and away with him. My informant said she could only put
him off by pledging her word of honour to be prepared on their first meeting
after that. When it was to be, he didn't hear; but you urge Mr. Linton to look
sharp."
This news filled me
with fresh fears. I outstripped Kenneth, and ran most of the way back. The little
dog was yelping in the garden yet. I spared a minute to open the gate for it,
but instead of going to the house door, it coursed up and down snuffing the
grass, and would have escaped to the road had I not seized and conveyed it in
with me. On ascending to Isabella's room my suspicions were confirmed. It was
empty. Had I been a few hours sooner, Mrs. Linton's illness might have arrested
her rash step. But what could be done now? There was a bare possibility of
overtaking them if pursued instantly. I could not pursue them, however; and I
dare not rouse the family, and fill the place with confusion -- still less
unfold the business to my master, absorbed as he was in his present calamity,
and having no heart to spare for a second grief. I saw nothing for it but to
hold my tongue, and suffer matters to take their course; and Kenneth being
arrived, I went with a badly composed countenance to announce him. Catherine
lay in a troubled sleep. Her husband had succeeded in soothing the excess of
frenzy. He now hung over her pillow, watching every shade and every change of
her painfully expressive features.
The doctor, on
examining the case for himself, spoke hopefully to him of its having a
favourable termination, if we could only preserve around her perfect and
constant tranquillity. To me he signified the threatening danger was not so
much death, as permanent alienation of intellect.
I did not close my eyes
that night, nor did Mr. Linton -- indeed, we never went to bed; and the
servants were all up long before the usual hour, moving through the house with
stealthy tread, and exchanging whispers as they encountered each other in their
vocations. Every one was active but Miss Isabella; and they began to remark how
sound she slept. Her brother, too, asked if she had risen, and seemed impatient
for her presence, and hurt that she showed so little anxiety for her sister-
in-law. I trembled lest he should send me to call her; but I was spared the
pain of being the first proclaimant of her flight. One of the maids, a
thoughtless girl, who had been on an early errand to Gimmerton, came panting
upstairs, open mouthed, and dashed into the chamber, crying, --
"Oh dear, dear!
What mun we have next? Master, master, our young lady ---- "
"Hold your
noise!" cried I hastily, enraged at her clamorous manner.
"Speak lower,
Mary. What is the matter?" said Mr. Linton. "What ails your young
lady?"
"She's gone, she's
gone! Yon Heathcliff's run off wi' her!" gasped the girl.
"That is not
true!" exclaimed Linton, rising in agitation. "It cannot be. How has
the idea entered your head? -- Ellen Dean, go and seek her. It is incredible.
It cannot be."
As he spoke he took the
servant to the door, and then repeated his demand to know her reasons for such
an assertion.
"Why, I met on the
road a lad that fetches milk here," she stammered, "and he asked
whether we weren't in trouble at the Grange. I thought he meant for missis's
sickness, so I answered yes. Then says he, 'There's somebody gone after 'em, I
guess?' I stared. He saw I knew nought about it, and he told how a gentleman
and lady had stopped to have a horse's shoe fastened at a blacksmith's shop,
two miles out of Gimmerton, not very long after midnight; and how the
blacksmith's lass had got up to spy who they were. She knew them both directly.
And she noticed the man -- Heathcliff it was, she felt certain; nob'dy could
mistake him, besides -- put a sovereign in her father's hand for payment. The
lady had a cloak about her face; but having desired a sup of water, while she drank
it fell back, and she saw her very plain. Heathcliff held both bridles as they
rode on, and they set their faces from the village, and went as fast as the
rough roads would let them. The lass said nothing to her father, but she told
it all over Gimmerton this morning."
I ran and peeped, for
form's sake, into Isabella's room, confirming, when I returned, the servant's
statement. Mr. Linton had resumed his seat by the bed. On my re-entrance he
raised his eyes, read the meaning of my blank aspect, and dropped them without
giving an order or uttering a word.
"Are we to try any
measures for overtaking and bringing her back?" I inquired. "How
should we do?"
"She went of her
own accord," answered the master; "she had a right to go if she
pleased. Trouble me no more about her. Hereafter she is only my sister in name
...not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me."
And that was all he
said on the subject. He did not make a single inquiry further, or mention her
in any way, except directing me to send what property she had in the house to
her fresh home, wherever it was, when I knew it.
For two months the
fugitives remained absent; in those two months, Mrs. Linton encountered and
conquered the worst shock of what was denominated a brain fever. No mother
could have nursed an only child more devotedly than Edgar tended her. Day and
night he was watching, and patiently enduring all the annoyances that irritable
nerves and a shaken reason could inflict: and, though Kenneth remarked that
what he saved from the grave would only recompense his care by forming the
source of constant future anxiety -- in fact, that his health and strength were
being sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin of humanity -- he knew no limits in
gratitude and joy, when Catherine's life was declared out of danger; and hour
after hour he would sit beside her, tracing the gradual return to bodily
health, and flattering his too sanguine hopes with the illusion that her mind
would settle back to its right balance also, and she would soon be entirely her
former self.
The first time she left
her chamber, was at the commencement of the following March. Mr. Linton had put
on her pillow, in the morning, a handful of golden crocuses; her eye, long
stranger to any gleam of pleasure, caught them in waking, and shone delighted
as she gathered them eagerly together.
"These are the
earliest flowers at the Heights!" she exclaimed. "They remind me of
soft thaw winds, and warm sunshine, and nearly melted snow -- Edgar, is there
not a south wind, and is not the snow almost gone ?"
"The snow is quite
gone down here, darling," replied her husband, "and I only see two
white spots on the whole range of moors. The sky is blue, and the larks are
singing, and the becks and brooks are all brim full. Catherine, last spring at
this time I was longing to have you under this roof; now I wish you were a mile
or two up those hills; the air blows so sweetly, I feel that it would cure
you."
"I shall never be
there but once more," said the invalid; "and then you'll leave me,
and I shall remain for ever. Next spring you'll long again to have me under
this roof, and you'll look back and think you were happy to-day."
Linton lavished on her
the kindest caresses, and tried to cheer her by the fondest words; but, vaguely
regarding the flowers, she let the tears collect on her lashes and stream down
her cheeks unheeding. We knew she was really better, and therefore decided that
long confinement to a single place produced much of this despondency, and it
might be partially removed by a change of scene. The master told me to light a
fire in the many-weeks-deserted parlour, and to set an easy-chair in the
sunshine by the window; and then he brought her down, and she sat a long while
enjoying the genial heat, and, as we expected, revived by the objects round
her, which, though familiar, were free from the dreary associations investing
her hated sick chamber. By evening she seemed greatly exhausted, yet no
arguments could persuade her to return to that apartment; and I had to arrange
the parlour sofa for her bed, till another room could be prepared. To obviate the
fatigue of mounting and descending the stairs, we fitted up this, where you lie
at present, on the same floor with the parlour; and she was soon strong enough
to move from one to the other, leaning on Edgar's arm. Ah, I thought myself she
might recover, so waited on as she was. And there was double cause to desire
it, for on her existence depended that of another; we cherished the hope that
in a little while Mr. Linton's heart would be gladdened, and his lands secured
from a stranger's gripe, by the birth of an heir.
I should mention that
Isabella sent to her brother, some six weeks from her departure, a short note
announcing her marriage with Heathcliff. It appeared dry and cold, but at the
bottom was dotted in with pencil an obscure apology, and an entreaty for kind
remembrance and reconciliation, if her proceeding had offended him, asserting
that she could not help it then, and, being done, she had now no power to
repeal it. Linton did not reply to this, I believe; and in a fortnight more I
got a long letter which I considered odd, coming from the pen of a bride just
out of the honeymoon. I'll read it, for I keep it yet. Any relic of the dead is
precious if they were valued living.
DEAR ELLEN, it begins,
I came last night to Wuthering Heights, and heard for the first time that
Catherine has been, and is yet, very ill. I must not write to her, I suppose,
and my brother is either too angry or too distressed to answer what I sent him.
Still, I must write to somebody, and the only choice left me is you.
Inform Edgar that I'd
give the world to see his face again -- that my heart returned to Thrushcross
Grange in twenty-four hours after I left it, and is there at this moment, full
of warm feelings for him and Catherine. I can't follow it, though (those words
are underlined); they need not expect me; and they may draw what conclusions
they please, taking care, however, to lay nothing at the door of my weak will
or deficient affection.
The remainder of the
letter is for yourself alone. I want to ask you two questions; the first is --
How did you contrive to preserve the common sympathies of human nature when you
resided here? I cannot recognize any sentiment which those around share with me.
The second question I
have great interest in; it is this --- Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he
mad? And if not, is he a devil? I shan't tell my reasons for making this
inquiry, but I beseech you to explain, if you can, what I have married -- that
is, when you call to see me; and you must call, Ellen, very soon. Don't write,
but come, and bring me something from Edgar.
Now you shall hear how
I have been received in my new home, as I am led to imagine the Heights will
be. It is to amuse myself that I dwell on such subjects as the lack of external
comforts; they never occupy my thoughts, except at the moment when I miss them.
I should laugh and dance for joy if I found their absence was the total of my
miseries, and the rest was an unnatural dream.
The sun set behind the
Grange as we turned on to the moors: by that I judged it to be six o'clock; and
my companion halted half an hour to inspect the park and the gardens, and
probably the place itself, as well as he could; so it was dark when we dismounted
in the paved yard of the farmhouse, and your old fellow-servant Joseph issued
out to receive us by the light of a dip candle. He did it with a courtesy that
redounded to his credit. His first act was to elevate his torch to a level with
my face, squint malignantly, project his under lip, and turn away. Then he took
the two horses and led them into the stables, reappearing for the purpose of
locking the outer gate, as if we lived in an ancient castle.
Heathcliff stayed to
speak to him, and I entered the kitchen -- a dingy, untidy hole. I dare say you
would not know it, it is so changed since it was in your charge. By the fire
stood a ruffianly child, strong in limb and dirty in garb, with a look of
Catherine in his eyes and about his mouth.
"This is Edgar's
legal nephew," I reflected -- "mine in a manner. I must shake hands,
and -- yes -- I must kiss him. It is right to establish a good understanding at
the beginning."
I approached, and
attempting to take his chubby fist, said, --
"How do you do, my
dear?"
He replied in a jargon
I did not comprehend.
"Shall you and I
be friends, Hareton?" was my next essay at conversation.
An oath, and a threat
to set Throttler on me if I did not "frame off," rewarded my
perseverance.
"Hey, Throttler,
lad!" whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred bull-dog from its
lair in a corner. "Now, wilt thou be ganging?" he asked
authoritatively.
Love for my life urged
a compliance. I stepped over the threshold to wait till the others should
enter. Mr. Heathcliff was nowhere visible, and Joseph, whom I followed to the
stables and requested to accompany me in, after staring and muttering to
himself, screwed up his nose and replied, --
"Mim! mim! mim!
Did iver Christian body hear aught like it? Minching un munching! How can I
tell whet ye say?"
"I say I wish you
to come with me into the house!" I cried, thinking him deaf, yet highly
disgusted at his rudeness.
"Nor nuh me. I
getten summut else to do," he answered, and continued his work, moving his
lantern jaws meanwhile, and surveying my dress and countenance (the former a
great deal too fine, but the latter, I'm sure, as sad as he could desire) with
sovereign contempt.
I walked round the yard
and through a wicket to another door, at which I took the liberty of knocking,
in hopes some more civil servant might show himself. After a short suspense it
was opened by a tall, gaunt man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely
slovenly; his features were lost in masses of shaggy hair that hung on his
shoulders, and his eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine's with all their
beauty annihilated.
"What's your
business here?" he demanded grimly. "Who are you?"
"My name was
Isabella Linton," I replied. "You've seen me before, sir. I'm lately
married to Mr. Heathcliff, and he has brought me here -- I suppose by your
permission."
"Is he come back,
then?" asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry wolf,
"Yes, we came just
now," I said; "but he left me by the kitchen door, and when I would
have gone in your little boy played sentinel over the place, and frightened me
off by the help of a bull-dog."
"It's well the
hellish villain has kept his word!" growled my future host, searching the
darkness beyond me in expectation of discovering Heathcliff; and then he
indulged in a soliloquy of execrations, and threats of what he would have done
had the "fiend" deceived him.
I repented having tried
this second entrance, and was almost inclined to slip away before he finished
cursing; but ere I could execute that intention he ordered me in, and shut and
refastened the door. There was a great fire, and that was all the light in the
huge apartment, whose floor had grown a uniform gray, and the once brilliant
pewter dishes, which used to attract my gaze when I was a girl, partook of a
similar obscurity, created by tarnish and dust. I inquired whether I might call
the maid, and be conducted to a bedroom. Mr. Earnshaw vouchsafed no answer. He
walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets, apparently quite forgetting
my presence; and his abstraction was evidently so deep, and his whole aspect so
misanthropical, that I shrank from disturbing him again.
You'll not be
surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless, seated in worse than
solitude on that inhospitable hearth, and remembering that four miles distant
lay my delightful home, containing the only people I loved on earth; and there
might as well be the Atlantic to part us, instead of those four miles. I could
not overpass them. I questioned with myself -- Where must I turn for comfort?
and (mind you don't tell Edgar or Catherine) above every sorrow beside, this
rose pre-eminent -- despair at finding nobody who could or would be my ally
against Heathcliff. I had sought shelter at Wuthering Heights almost gladly,
because I was secured by that arrangement from living alone with him; but he
knew the people we were coming amongst, and he did not fear their
intermeddling.
I sat and thought a
doleful time. The clock struck eight, and nine, and still my companion paced to
and fro, his head bent on his breast, and perfectly silent, unless a groan or a
bitter ejaculation forced itself out at intervals. I listened to detect a woman's
voice in the house, and filled the interim with wild regrets and dismal
anticipations, which at last spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing and
weeping. I was not aware how openly I grieved, till Earnshaw halted opposite,
in his measured walk, and gave me a stare of newly-awakened surprise. Taking
advantage of his recovered attention, I exclaimed, --
"I'm tired with my
journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maidservant? Direct me to her,
as she won't come to me."
"We have
none," he answered. "You must wait on yourself."
"Where must I
sleep, then?" I sobbed. I was beyond regarding self-respect, weighed down
by fatigue and wretchedness.
"Joseph will show
you Heathcliff's chamber," said he. "Open that door; he's in
there."
I was going to obey,
but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the strangest tone, --
"Be so good as to
turn your lock and draw your bolt; don't omit it!"
"Well!" I
said; "but why, Mr. Earnshaw?" I did not relish the notion of
deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.
"Look here!"
he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a curiously constructed pistol, having a
double-edged spring knife attached to the barrel. "That's a great tempter
to a desperate man, is it not? I cannot resist going up with this every night
and trying his door. If once I find it open, he's done for! I do it invariably,
even though the minute before I have been recalling a hundred reasons that
should make me refrain. It is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes
by killing him. You fight against that devil for love as long as you may; when
the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him!"
I surveyed the weapon
inquisitively. A hideous notion struck me. How powerful I should be, possessing
such an instrument! I took it from his hand and touched the blade. He looked
astonished at the expression my face assumed during a brief second; it was not
horror -- it was covetousness. He snatched the pistol back jealously, shut the
knife, and returned it to its concealment.
"I don't care if
you tell him," said he. "Put him on his guard, and watch for him. You
know the terms we are on, I see. His danger does not shock you."
"What has
Heathcliff done to you?" I asked. "In what has he wronged you, to
warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn't it be wiser to bid him quit the
house?"
"No!"
thundered Earnshaw. "Should he offer to leave me, he's a dead man.
Persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess. Am I to lose all without a
chance of retrieval? Is Hareton to be a beggar? Oh, damnation! I will have it
back, and I'll have his gold too, and then his blood, and hell shall have his
soul! It will be ten times blacker with that guest than ever it was
before!"
You've acquainted me,
Ellen, with your old master's habits. He is clearly on the verge of madness. He
was so last night at least. I shuddered to be near him, and thought on the
servant's ill-bred moroseness as comparatively agreeable. He now recommenced
his moody walk, and I raised the latch and escaped into the kitchen. Joseph was
bending over the fire, peering into a large pan that swung above it, and a
wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on the settle close by. The contents of the pan
began to boil, and he turned to plunge his hand into the bowl. I conjectured
that this preparation was probably for our supper, and being hungry, I resolved
it should be eatable; so, crying out sharply, "I'll make the
porridge!" I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take
off my hat and riding-habit.
"Mr.
Earnshaw," I continued, "directs me to wait on myself. I will. I'm
not going to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve."
"Gooid Lord!"
he muttered, sitting down and stroking his ribbed stockings from the knee to
the ankle. "If there's to be fresh ortherings, just when I getten used to
two maisters, if I mun hev a mistress set o'er my heead, it's like time to be
flitting. I niver did think to see t' day that I mud lave th' owld place, but I
doubt it's nigh at hand!"
This lamentation drew
no notice from me. I went briskly to work, sighing to remember a period when it
would have been all merry fun, but compelled speedily to drive off the
remembrance. It racked me to recall past happiness and the greater peril there
was of conjuring up its apparition, the quicker the thible ran round, and the
faster the handfuls of meal fell into the water. Joseph beheld my style of
cookery with growing indignation.
"Thear!" he
ejaculated. "Hareton, thou willn't sup thy porridge to-neeght; they'll be
naught but lumps as big as my neive. Thear, agean! I'd fling in bowl un all, if
I wer ye! There, pale t' guilp off, un then ye'll hae done wi't. Bang, bang.
It's a mercy t' bothom isn't deaved out!"
It was rather a rough
mess, I own, when poured into the basins. Four had been provided, and a gallon
pitcher of new milk was brought from the dairy, which Hareton seized and
commenced drinking and spilling from the expansive lip. I expostulated, and
desired that he should have his in a mug, affirming that I could not taste the
liquid treated so dirtily. The old cynic chose to be vastly offended at this
nicety, assuring me repeatedly that "the barn was every bit as good"
as I, "and every bit as wollsome," and wondering how I could fashion
to be so conceited. Meanwhile the infant ruffian continued sucking, and
glowered up at me defyingly as he slavered into the jug.
"I shall have my
supper in another room," I said. "Have you no place you call a
parlour?"
"Parlour!" he
echoed sneeringly -- "parlour! Nay, we've noa parlours. If yah dunnut
loike wer company, there's maister's; un if yah dunnut loike maister, there's
us."
"Then I shall go
upstairs," I answered. "Show me a chamber."
I put my basin on a
tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk. With great grumblings the fellow
rose and preceded me in my ascent. We mounted to the garrets. He opened a door
now and then to look into the apartments we passed.
"Here's a
rahm," he said at last, flinging back a cranky board on hinges. "It's
weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in. There's a pack o' corn i' t' corner,
thear, meeterly clane. If ye're feared o' muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread
yer hankerchir o' to' top on't."
The "rahm"
was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt and grain, various sacks of
which articles were piled around, leaving a wide, bare space in the middle.
"Why, man!" I
exclaimed, facing him angrily, "this is not a place to sleep in. I wish to
see my bedroom."
"Bedrume!" he
repeated, in a tone of mockery. "Yah's see all t'bedrumes thear is. Yon's
mine."
He pointed into the
second garret, only differing from the first in being more naked about the
walls, and having a large, low, curtainless bed with an indigo- coloured quilt
at one end.
"What do I want
with yours?" I retorted. "I suppose Mr. Heathcliff does not lodge at
the top of the house, does he?"
"Oh, it's Maister
Hathecliff's ye're wanting?" cried he, as if making a new discovery.
"Couldn't ye ha' said soa, at onst? Un then I mud ha' telled ye, baht all
this wark, that that's just one ye cannut see. He allas keeps it locked, un
nob'dy iver mells on't but hisseln."
"You've a nice
house, Joseph," I could not refrain from observing, "and pleasant
inmates; and I think the concentrated essence of all the madness in the world
took up its abode in my brain the day I linked my fate with theirs! However,
that is not to the present purpose. There are other rooms. For Heaven's sake be
quick, and let me settle somewhere!"
He made no reply to
this adjuration, only plodding doggedly down the wooden steps, and halting
before an apartment which, from that halt and the superior quality of its
furniture, I conjectured to be the best one. There was a carpet -- a good one
-- but the pattern was obliterated by dust; a fireplace hung with cut paper,
dropping to pieces; a handsome oak bedstead with ample crimson curtains of
rather expensive material and modern make, but they had evidently experienced
rough usage -- the valances hung in festoons, wrenched from their rings, and
the iron rod supporting them was bent in an arc on one side, causing the
drapery to trail upon the floor. The chairs were also damaged, many of them
severely, and deep indentations deformed the panels of the walls. I was
endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and taking possession, when my
fool of a guide announced, "This here is t' maister's." My supper by
this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience exhausted. I insisted on
being provided instantly with a place of refuge and means of repose.
"Whear the
divil?" began the religious elder. "The Lord bless us! The Lord
forgie us! Whear the hell wold ye gang, ye marred, wearisome nowt? Ye've seen
all but Hareton's bit of a cham'er. There's not another hoile to lig down in i'
th' hahse!"
I was so vexed, I flung
my tray and its contents on the ground, and then seated myself at the
stairs-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.
"Ech! ech!"
exclaimed Joseph. "Weel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss Cathy! Hahsiver,
t' maister sall just tum'le o'er them brocken pots, un then we's hear summut --
we's hear how it's to be. Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro' this
to Churstmas, flinging t' precious gifts o' God under fooit i' yer flaysome
rages! But I'm mista'eif ye show yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich
bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i' that plisky. I nobbut
wish he may."
And so he went on
scolding to his den beneath, taking the candle with him, and I remained in the
dark. The period of reflection succeeding this silly action compelled me to
admit the necessity of smothering my pride and choking my wrath, and bestirring
myself to remove its effects. An unexpected aid presently appeared in the shape
of Throttler, whom I now recognized as a son of our old Skulker. It had spent
its whelphood at the Grange, and was given by my father to Mr. Hindley. I fancy
it knew me. It pushed its nose against mine by way of salute, and then hastened
to devour the porridge, while I groped from step to step, collecting the
shattered earthenware, and drying the spatters of milk from the banister with
my pocket-handkerchief. Our labours were scarcely over when I heard Earnshaw's
tread in the passage. My assistant tucked in his tail and pressed to the wall.
I stole into the nearest doorway. The dog's endeavour to avoid him was
unsuccessful, as I guessed by a scutter downstairs, and a prolonged, piteous
yelping. I had better luck. He passed on, entered his chamber, and shut the
door. Directly after, Joseph came up with Hareton, to put him to bed. I had
found shelter in Hareton's room, and the old man, on seeing me, said, --
"They's rahm for
boath ye un yer pride now, I sud think, i' the hahse. It's empty; ye may hev it
all to yer- seln, un Him as allas maks a third i' sich ill company!"
Gladly did I take
advantage of this intimation, and the minute I flung myself into a chair by the
fire I nodded and slept. My slumber was deep and sweet, though over far too
soon. Mr. Heathcliff awoke me. He had just come in, and demanded, in his loving
manner, what I was doing there. I told him the cause of my staying up so late
-- that he had the key of our room in his pocket. The adjective our gave mortal
offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be mine, and he'd ---- But I'll
not repeat his language, nor describe his habitual conduct. He is ingenious and
unresting in seeking to gain my abhorrence. I sometimes wonder at him with an
intensity that deadens my fear; yet I assure you a tiger or a venomous serpent
could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he wakens. He told me of
Catherine's illness, and accused my brother of causing it, promising that I
should be Edgar's proxy in suffering till he could get hold of him.
I do hate him -- I am
wretched -- I have been a fool Beware of uttering one breath of this to any one
at the Grange. I shall expect you every day. Don't disappoint me.
ISABELLA.
As soon as I had
perused this epistle, I went to the master, and informed him that his sister
had arrived at the Heights, and sent me a letter expressing her sorrow for Mrs.
Linton's situation, and her ardent desire to see him; with a wish that he would
transmit to her, as early as possible, some token of forgiveness by me.
"Forgiveness?"
said Linton. "I have nothing to forgive her, Ellen -- you may call at
Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you like, and say that I am not angry, but
I'm sorry to have lost her: especially as I can never think she'll be happy. It
is out of the question my going to see her, however; we are eternally divided;
and should she really wish to oblige me, let her persuade the villain she has
married to leave the country."
"And you won't
write her a little note, sir ?" I asked, imploringly.
"No," he
answered. "It is needless. My communication with Heathcliff's family shall
be as sparing as his with mine. It shall not exist!"
Mr. Edgar's coldness
depressed me exceedingly; and all the way from the Grange I puzzled my brains
how to put more heart into what he said, when I repeated it; and how to soften
his refusal of even a few lines to console Isabella.
I dare say she had been
on the watch for me since morning: I saw her looking through the lattice, as I
came up the garden causeway, and I nodded to her; but she drew back as if
afraid of being observed.
I entered without
knocking. There never was such a dreary, dismal scene as the formerly cheerful
house presented. I must confess that if I had been in the young lady's place I
would, at least, have swept the hearth and wiped the tables with a duster. But
she already partook of the pervading spirit of neglect which encompassed her.
Her pretty face was wan and listless, her hair uncurled -- some locks hanging
lankly down, and some carelessly twisted round her head. Probably she had not
touched her dress since yester evening. Hindley was not there. Mr. Heathcliff
sat at a table, turning over some papers in his pocket-book; but he rose when I
appeared, asked me how I did, quite friendly, and offered me a chair. He was
the only thing there that seemed decent, and I thought he never looked better.
So much had circumstances altered their positions that he would certainly have
struck a stranger as a born and bred gentleman, and his wife as a thorough
little slattern! She came forward eagerly to greet me, and held out one hand to
take the expected letter. I shook my head. She wouldn't understand the hint,
but followed me to a sideboard where I went to lay my bonnet, and importuned me
in a whisper to give her directly what I had brought. Heathcliff guessed the
meaning of her manoeuvres, and said, --
"If you have got
anything for Isabella -- as no doubt you have, Nelly -- give it to her. You
needn't make a secret of it. We have no secrets between us."
"Oh, I have
nothing," I replied, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. "My
master bade me tell his sister that she must not expect either a letter or a
visit from him at present. He sends his love, ma'am, and his wishes for your
happiness, and his pardon for the grief you have occasioned; but he thinks that
after this time his household and the household here should drop
intercommunication, as nothing could come of keeping it up."
Mrs. Heathcliff's lip
quivered slightly, and she returned to her seat in the window. Her husband took
his stand on the hearthstone near me, and began to put questions concerning
Catherine. I told him as much as I thought proper of her illness, and he
extorted from me, by cross-examination, most of the facts connected with its
origin. I blamed her, as she deserved, for bringing it all on herself, and
ended by hoping that he would follow Mr. Linton's example, and avoid future
interference with his family, for good or evil.
"Mrs. Linton is
now just recovering," I said. "She'll never be like she was, but her
life is spared; and if you really have a regard for her, you'll shun crossing
her way again -- nay, you'll move out of this country entirely; and that you
may not regret it, I'll inform you Catherine Linton is as different now from
your old friend Catherine Earnshaw as that young lady is different from me. Her
appearance is changed greatly, her character much more so; and the person who
is compelled, of necessity, to be her companion will only sustain his affection
hereafter by the remembrance of what she once was, by common humanity, and a
sense of duty."
"That is quite
possible," remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself to seem calm --
"quite possible that your master should have nothing but common humanity
and a sense of duty to fall back upon. But do you imagine that I shall leave
Catherine to his duty and humanity? and can you compare my feelings respecting
Catherine to his? Before you leave this house, I must exact a promise from you
that you'll get me an interview with her. Consent or refuse, I will see her!
What do you say?"
"I say, Mr.
Heathcliff," I replied, "you must not. You never shall, through my
means. Another encounter between you and the master would kill her
altogether."
"With your aid
that may be avoided," he continued; "and should there be danger of
such an event -- should he be the cause of adding a single trouble more to her
existence -- why, I think I shall be justified in going to extremes. I wish you
had sincerity enough to tell me whether Catherine would suffer greatly from his
loss; the fear that she would restrains me. And there you see the distinction
between our feelings: had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him
with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand
against him. You may look incredulous if you please. I never would have
banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard
ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drunk his blood! But till then --
if you don't believe me you don't know me -- till then I would have died by
inches before I touched a single hair of his head!"
"And yet," I
interrupted, "you have no scruples in completely ruining all hopes of her
perfect restoration by thrusting yourself into her remembrance now, when she
has nearly forgotten you, and involving her in a new tumult of discord and
distress."
"You suppose she
has nearly forgotten me?" he said. "O Nelly, you know she has not!
You know as well as I do that for every thought she spends on Linton, she
spends a thousand on me! At a most miserable period of my life I had a notion
of the kind. It haunted me on my return to the neighbourhood last summer; but
only her own assurance could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then
Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt.
Two words would comprehend my future -- death and hell; existence, after losing
her, would be hell. Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued
Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine. If he loved with all the powers of
his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.
And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained
in that horse-trough as her whole affection be monopolized by him! Tush! He is
scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog or her horse. It is not in him to
be loved like me. How can she love in him what he has not?"
"Catherine and
Edgar are as fond of each other as any two people can be," cried Isabella
with sudden vivacity. "No one has a right to talk in that manner, and I
won't hear my brother depreciated in silence!"
"Your brother is
wondrous fond of you too, isn't he?" observed Heathcliff scornfully.
"He turns you adrift on the world with surprising alacrity."
"He is not aware
of what I suffer," she replied. "I didn't tell him that."
"You have been
telling him something, then. You have written, have you?"
"To say that I was
married, I did write; you saw the note."
"And nothing
since?"
"No."
"My young lady is
looking sadly the worse for her change of condition," I remarked.
"Somebody's love comes short in her case obviously. Whose, I may guess,
but perhaps I shouldn't say."
"I should guess it
was her own," said Heathcliff. She degenerates into a mere slut. She is
tired of trying to please me uncommonly early. You'd hardly credit it, but the
very morrow of our wedding she was weeping to go home. However, she'll suit
this house so much the better for not being overnice, and I'll take care she
does not disgrace me by rambling abroad."
"Well, sir,"
returned I, "I hope you'll consider that Mrs. Heathcliff is accustomed to
be looked after and waited on, and that she has been brought up like an only
daughter, whom every one was ready to serve. You must let her have a maid to
keep things tidy about her, and you must treat her kindly. Whatever be your
notion of Mr. Edgar, you cannot doubt that she has a capacity for strong
attachments, or she wouldn't have abandoned the elegances, and comforts, and
friends of her former home to fix contentedly in such a wilderness as this with
you."
"She abandoned
them under a delusion," he answered, "picturing in me a hero of
romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can
hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she
persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character, and acting on the false
impressions she cherished. But at last I think she begins to know me. I don't
perceive the silly smiles and grimaces that provoked me at first, and the
senseless incapability of discerning that I was in earnest when I gave her my
opinion of her infatuation and herself. It was a marvellous effort of perspicacity
to discover that I did not love her. I believed, at one time, no lessons could
teach her that. And yet it is poorly learned, for this morning she announced,
as a piece of appalling intelligence, that I had actually succeeded in making
her hate me -- a positive labour of Hercules, I assure you! If it be achieved,
I have cause to return thanks. -- Can I trust your assertion, Isabella? Are you
sure you hate me? If I let you alone for half a day, won't you come sighing and
wheedling to me again? -- I dare say she would rather I had seemed all
tenderness before you; it wounds her vanity to have the truth exposed. But I
don't care who knows that the passion was wholly on one side; and I never told
her a lie about it. She cannot accuse me of showing one bit of deceitful
softness. The first thing she saw me do on coming out of the Grange was to hang
up her little dog, and when she pleaded for it, the first words I uttered were
a wish that I had the hanging of every being belonging to her, except one.
Possibly she took that exception for herself. But no brutality disgusted her. I
suppose she has an innate admiration of it, if only her precious person were
secure from injury. Now, was it not the depth of absurdity, of genuine idiocy,
for that pitiful, slavish, mean-minded brach to dream that I could love her?
Tell your master, Nelly, that I never, in all my life, met with such an abject
thing as she is. She even disgraces the name of Linton; and I've sometimes
relented, from pure lack of invention, in my experiments on what she could
endure and still creep shamefully cringing back. But tell him also to set his
fraternal and magisterial heart at ease; that I keep strictly within the limits
of the law. I have avoided, up to this period, giving her the slightest right
to claim a separation; and, what's more, she'd thank nobody for dividing us. If
she desired to go, she might; the nuisance of her presence outweighs the
gratification to be derived from tormenting her."
"Mr.
Heathcliff," said I, "this is the talk of a madman. Your wife, most
likely, is convinced you are mad, and for that reason she has borne with you
hitherto; but now that you say she may go, she'll doubtless avail herself of
the permission. -- You are not so bewitched, ma'am, are you, as to remain with him
of your own accord?"
"Take care,
Ellen!" answered Isabella, her eyes sparkling irefully. There was no
misdoubting, by their expression, the full success of her partner's endeavours
to make himself detested. "Don't put faith in a single word he speaks.
He's a lying fiend -- a monster, and not a human being! I've been told I might
leave him before, and I've made the attempt, but I dare not repeat it. Only,
Ellen, promise you'll not mention a syllable of his infamous conversation to my
brother or Catherine. Whatever he may pretend, he wishes to provoke Edgar to
desperation. He says he has married me on purpose to obtain power over him; and
he shan't obtain it. I'll die first! I just hope -- I pray -- that he may
forget his diabolical prudence and kill me! The single pleasure I can imagine
is to die or to see him dead!"
"There -- that
will do for the present!" said Heathcliff. --- "If you are called
upon in a court of law you'll remember her language, Nelly. And take a good
look at that countenance; she's near the point which would suit me -- No;
you're not fit to be your own guardian, Isabella, now; and I, being your legal
protector, must retain you in my custody, however distasteful the obligation
may be. Go upstairs; I have something to say to Ellen Dean in private. That's
not the way. Upstairs, I tell you! Why, this is the road upstairs, child."
He seized and thrust
her from the room, and returned muttering, --
"I have no pity! I
have no pity! The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their
entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greater energy in proportion
to the increase of pain."
"Do you understand
what the word pity means?" I said, hastening to resume my bonnet.
"Did you ever feel a touch of it in your life?"
"Put that
down!" he interrupted, perceiving my intention to depart. "You are
not going yet. Come here now, Nelly. I must either persuade or compel you to
aid me in fulfilling my determination to see Catherine, and that without delay.
I swear that I meditate no harm. I don't desire to cause any disturbance, or to
exasperate or insult Mr. Linton. I only wish to hear from herself how she is,
and why she has been ill, and to ask if anything that I could do would be of
use to her. Last night I was in the Grange garden six hours, and I'll return
there to-night; and every night I'll haunt the place, and every day, till I
find an opportunity of entering. If Edgar Linton meets me I shall not hesitate
to knock him down, and give him enough to assure his quiescence while I stay.
If his servants oppose me I shall threaten them off with these pistols. But
wouldn't it be better to prevent my coming in contact with them or their
master? And you could do it so easily. I'd warn you when I came, and then you
might let me in unobserved, as soon as she was alone, and watch till I
departed, your conscience quite calm. You would be hindering mischief."
I protested against
playing that treacherous part in my employer's house, and, besides, I urged the
cruelty and selfishness of his destroying Mrs. Linton's tranquillity for his
satisfaction. "The commonest occurrence startles her painfully," I
said. "She's all nerves, and she couldn't bear the surprise, I'm positive.
Don't persist, sir, or else I shall be obliged to inform my master of your
designs, and he'll take measures to secure his house and its inmates from any
such unwarrantable intrusions!"
"In that case,
I'll take measures to secure you, woman," exclaimed Heathcliff. "You
shall not leave Wuthering Heights till to-morrow morning. It is a foolish story
to assert that Catherine could not bear to see me; and as to surprising her, I
don't desire it. You must prepare her; ask her if I may come. You say she never
mentions my name, and that I am never mentioned to her. To whom should she
mention me if I am a forbidden topic in the house? She thinks you are all spies
for her husband. Oh, I've no doubt she's in hell among you! I guess by her
silence, as much as anything, what she feels. You say she is often restless and
anxious-looking. Is that a proof of tranquillity? You talk of her mind being
unsettled. How the devil could it be otherwise in her frightful isolation? And
that insipid, paltry creature attending her former duty and humanity, from pity
and charity! He might as well plant an oak in a flower- pot, and expect it to
thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow
cares! Let us settle it at once. Will you stay here, and am I to fight my way
to Catherine over Linton and his footman? or will you be my friend, as you have
been hitherto, and do what I request? Decide, because there is no reason for my
lingering another minute if you persist in your stubborn ill-nature."
Well, Mr. Lockwood, I
argued and complained, and flatly refused him fifty times; but in the long run
he forced me to an agreement. I engaged to carry a letter from him to my
mistress; and should she consent, I promised to let him have intelligence of
Linton's next absence from home, when he might come, and get in as he was able.
I wouldn't be there, and my fellow- servants should be equally out of the way.
Was it right or wrong? I fear it was wrong, though expedient. I thought I
prevented another explosion by my compliance, and I thought, too, it might
create a favourable crisis in Catherine's mental illness. And then I remembered
Mr. Edgar's stern rebuke of my carrying tales, and I tried to smooth away all
disquietude on the subject by affirming, with frequent iteration, that that
betrayal of trust, if it merited so harsh an appellation, should be the last.
Notwithstanding, my journey homeward was sadder than my journey thither, and
many misgivings I had ere I could prevail on myself to put the missive into
Mrs. Linton's hand.
But here is Kenneth.
I'll go down and tell him how much better you are. My history is dree, as we
say, and will serve to while away another morning.
Dree and dreary, I
reflected, as the good woman descended to receive the doctor, and not exactly
of the kind which I should have chosen to amuse me. But never mind. I'll
extract wholesome medicines from Mrs. Dean's bitter herbs; and firstly, let me
beware the fascination that lurks in Catherine Heathcliff's brilliant eyes. I
should be in a curious taking if I surrendered my heart to that young person,
and the daughter turned out a second edition of the mother!
Another week over -- and
I am so many days nearer health, and spring ! I have now heard all my
neighbour's history, at different sittings, as the housekeeper could spare time
from more important occupations. I'll continue it in her own words, only a
little condensed. She is, on the whole, a very fair narrator and I don't think
I could improve her style.
In the evening, she
said, the evening of my visit to the Heights, I knew, as well as if I saw him,
that Mr. Heathcliff was about the place; and I shunned going out, because I still
carried his letter in my pocket, and didn't want to be threatened, or teased
any more.
I had made up my mind
not to give it till my master went somewhere, as I could not guess how its
receipt would affect Catherine. The consequence was, that it did not reach her
before the lapse of three days. The fourth was Sunday, and I brought it into
her room, after the family were gone to church.
There was a man servant
left to keep the house with me, and we generally made a practice of locking the
doors during the hours of service; but on that occasion the weather was so warm
and pleasant that I set them wide open, and, to fulfil my engagement, as I knew
who would be coming, I told my companion that the mistress wished very much for
some oranges, and he must run over to the village and get a few, to be paid for
on the morrow. He departed, and I went upstairs.
Mrs. Linton sat in a
loose, white dress, with a light shawl over her shoulders, in the recess of the
open window as usual. Her thick, long hair had been partly removed at the
beginning of her illness, and now she wore it simply combed in its natural
tresses over her temples and neck. Her appearance was altered, as I had told
Heathcliff; but when she was calm there seemed unearthly beauty in the change.
The flash of her eyes
had been succeeded by a dreamy and melancholy softness; they no longer gave the
impression of looking at the objects around her; they appeared always to gaze
beyond, and far beyond -- you would have said out of this world. Then the paleness
of her face -- its haggard aspect having vanished as she recovered flesh -- and
the peculiar expression arising from her mental state, though painfully
suggestive of their causes, added to the touching interest which she awakened,
and --- invariably to me, I know, and to any person who saw her, I should think
-- refuted more tangible proofs of convalescence, and stamped her as one doomed
to decay.
A book lay spread on
the sill before her, and the scarcely perceptible wind fluttered its leaves at
intervals. I believe Linton had laid it there, for she never endeavoured to
divert herself with reading or occupation of any kind, and he would spend many
an hour in trying to entice her attention to some subject which had formerly
been her amusement. She was conscious of his aim, and in her better moods
endured his efforts placidly, only showing their uselessness by now and then
suppressing a wearied sigh, and checking him at last with the saddest of smiles
and kisses. At other times she would turn petulantly away, and hide her face in
her hands, or even push him off angrily; and then he took care to let her
alone, for he was certain of doing no good.
Gimmerton chapel bells
were still ringing, and the full, mellow flow of the beck in the valley came
soothingly on the ear. It was a sweet substitute for the yet absent murmur of
the summer foliage which drowned that music about the Grange when the trees
were in leaf. At Wuthering Heights it always sounded on quiet days following a
great thaw or a season of steady rain. And of Wuthering Heights Catherine was
thinking as she listened -- that is, if she thought or listened at all; but she
had the vague, distant look I mentioned before, which expressed no recognition
of material things either by ear or eye.
"There's a letter
for you, Mrs. Linton," I said, gently inserting it in one hand that rested
on her knee. "You must read it immediately, because it wants an answer.
Shall I break the seal?" "Yes," she answered, without altering
the direction of her eyes. I opened it; it was very short. "Now," I
continued, "read it." She drew away her hand, and let it fall. I
replaced it in her lap, and stood waiting till it should please her to glance
down; but that movement was so long delayed that at last I resumed --
"Must I read it,
ma'am? It is from Mr. Heathcliff."
There was a start and a
troubled gleam of recollection, and a struggle to arrange her ideas. She lifted
the letter, and seemed to peruse it, and when she came to the signature she
sighed; yet still I found she had not gathered its import, for, upon my
desiring to hear her reply, she merely pointed to the name and gazed at me with
mournful and questioning eagerness.
"Well, he wishes
to see you," said I, guessing her need of an interpreter. "He's in
the garden by this time, and impatient to know what answer I shall bring."
As I spoke I observed a
large dog lying on the sunny grass beneath raise its ears as if about to bark,
and then, smoothing them back, announce, by a wag of the tail, that some one
approached whom it did not consider a stranger. Mrs. Linton bent forward and
listened breathlessly. The minute after a step traversed the hall. The open
house was too tempting for Heathcliff to resist walking in. Most likely he
supposed that I was inclined to shirk my promise, and so resolved to trust to
his own audacity.
With straining
eagerness Catherine gazed towards the entrance of her chamber. He did not hit
the right room directly. She motioned me to admit him, but he found it out ere
I could reach the door, and in a stride or two was at her side, and had her
grasped in his arms.
He neither spoke nor
loosed his hold for some five minutes, during which period he bestowed more
kisses than ever he gave in his life before, I dare say; but then my mistress
had kissed him first, and I plainly saw that he could hardly bear, for
downright agony, to look into her face. The same conviction had stricken him as
me, from the instant he beheld her, that there was no prospect of ultimate
recovery there; she was fated, sure to die.
"O Cathy! O my
life! how can I bear it?" was the first sentence he uttered, in a tone
that did not seek to disguise his despair. And now he stared at her so
earnestly that I thought the very intensity of his gaze would bring tears into
his eyes; but they burned with anguish -- they did not melt.
"What now?"
said Catherine, leaning back and returning his look with a suddenly clouded
brow. Her humour was a mere vane for constantly varying caprices. "You and
Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! And you both come to bewail the deed to
me, as if you were the people to be pitied! I shall not pity you, not I. You
have killed me -- and thriven on it, I think. How strong you are! How many
years do you mean to live after I am gone?"
Heathcliff had knelt on
one knee to embrace her. He attempted to rise, but she seized his hair and kept
him down.
"I wish I could
hold you," she continued bitterly, "till we were both dead! I
shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why
shouldn't you suffer? I do! Will you forget me? Will you be happy when I am in
the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, 'That's the grave of Catherine
Earnshaw. I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is past.
I've loved many others since. My children are dearer to me than she was, and at
death I shall not rejoice that I am going to her; I shall be sorry that I must
leave them.' Will you say so, Heathcliff?"
"Don't torture me
till I'm as mad as yourself," cried he, wrenching his head free and grinding
his teeth.
The two, to a cool
spectator, made a strange and fearful picture. Well might Catherine deem that
heaven would be a land of exile to her, unless with her mortal body she cast
away her moral character also. Her present countenance had a wild
vindictiveness in its white cheek, and a bloodless lip and a scintillating eye;
and she retained in her closed fingers a portion of the locks she had been
grasping. As to her companion, while raising himself with one hand, he had
taken her arm with the other, and so inadequate was his stock of gentleness to
the requirements of her condition that on his letting go I saw four distinct
impressions left blue in the colourless skin.
"Are you possessed
with a devil," he pursued savagely, "to talk in that manner to me
when you are dying? Do you reflect that all those words will be branded in my
memory, and eating deeper eternally after you have left me? You know you lie to
say I have killed you; and, Catherine, you know that I could as soon forget you
as my existence! Is it not sufficient for your infernal selfishness that, while
you are at peace, I shall writhe in the torments of hell?"
"I shall not be at
peace," moaned Catherine, recalled to a sense of physical weakness by the
violent, unequal throbbing of her heart, which beat visibly and audibly under
this excess of agitation. She said nothing further till the paroxysm was over,
then she continued more kindly, --
"I'm not wishing
you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted;
and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same
distress underground, and for my own sake forgive me! Come here and kneel down
again. You never harmed me in your life. Nay, if you nurse anger, that will be
worse to remember than my harsh words. Won't you come here again? Do!"
Heathcliff went to the
back of her chair and leant over, but not so far as to let her see his face,
which was livid with emotion. She bent round to look at him. He would not
permit it. Turning abruptly, he walked to the fireplace, where he stood,
silent, with his back towards us. Mrs. Linton's glance followed him
suspiciously. Every movement woke a new sentiment in her. After a pause and a
prolonged gaze she resumed, addressing me in accents of indignant
disappointment, --
"Oh, you see,
Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of the grave! That is how
I'm loved! Well, never mind. That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet,
and take him with me; he's in my soul. And," added she musingly, "the
thing that irks me most is this shattered prison, after all. I'm tired of being
enclosed here. I'm wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be
always there -- not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through
the walls of an aching heart, but really with it and in it. Nelly, you think
you are better and more fortunate than I, in full health and strength. You are
sorry for me. Very soon that will be altered. I shall be sorry for you. I shall
be incomparably beyond and above you all. I wonder he won't be near me!"
she went on to herself. "I thought he wished it -- Heathcliff dear, you
should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff."
In her eagerness she
rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair. At that earnest appeal he
turned to her, looking absolutely desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last
flashed fiercely on her; his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held
asunder, and then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and
he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought my
mistress would never be released alive -- in fact, to my eyes, she seemed directly
insensible. He flung himself into the nearest seat, and on my approaching
hurriedly to ascertain if she had fainted, he gnashed at me and foamed like a
mad dog, and gathered her to him with greedy jealousy. I did not feel as if I
were in the company of a creature of my own species. It appeared that he would
not understand, though I spoke to him, so I stood off and held my tongue in
great perplexity.
A movement of
Catherine's relieved me a little presently. She put up her hand to clasp his
neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her; while he, in return, covering
her with frantic caresses, said wildly, ---
"You teach me now
how cruel you've been -- cruel and false. Why did you despise me? Why did you
betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this.
You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry, and wring out my
kisses and tears; they'll blight you -- they'll damn you. You loved me; then
what right had you to leave me? What right -- answer me -- for the poor fancy
you felt for Linton? Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing
that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will,
did it. I have not broken your heart -- you have broken it; and in breaking it
you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to
live? What kind of living will it be when you ---- O God! would you like to
live with your soul in the grave?"
"Let me alone! let
me alone!" sobbed Catherine. "If I've done wrong, I'm dying for it.
It is enough! You left me too; but I won't upbraid you. I forgive you. Forgive
me."
"It is hard to
forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands," he
answered. "Kiss me again, and don't let me see your eyes. I forgive what
you have done to me. I love my murderer -- but yours! How can I?"
They were silent ---
their faces hid against each other, and washed by each other's tears. At least,
I suppose the weeping was on both sides, as it seemed Heathcliff could weep on
a great occasion like this.
I grew very
uncomfortable, meanwhile, for the afternoon wore fast away, the man whom I had
sent off returned from his errand, and I could distinguish by the shine of the
western sun up the valley a concourse thickening outside Gimmerton chapel
porch.
"Service is
over," I announced. "My master will be here in half an hour."
Heathcliff groaned a
curse, and strained Catherine closer. She never moved.
Ere long I perceived a
group of the servants passing up the road towards the kitchen wing. Mr. Linton
was not far behind. He opened the gate himself, and sauntered slowly up,
probably enjoying the lovely afternoon, that breathed as soft as summer.
"Now he is
here!" I exclaimed. "For Heaven's sake hurry down! You'll not meet
any one on the front stairs. Do be quick, and stay among the trees till he is
fairly in."
"I must go,
Cathy," said Heathcliff, seeking to extricate himself from his companion's
arms. "But if I live I'll see you again before you are asleep. I won't
stray five yards from your window."
"You must not
go!" she answered, holding him as firmly as her strength allowed.
"You shall not, I tell you."
"For one
hour," he pleaded earnestly.
"Not for one
minute," she replied.
"I must; Linton
will be up immediately," persisted the alarmed intruder.
He would have risen and
unfixed her fingers by the act; she clung fast, gasping. There was mad
resolution in her face.
"No!" she
shrieked. "Oh, don't, don't go! It is the last time! Edgar will not hurt
us. Heathcliff, I shall die! I shall die!"
"Damn the fool!
There he is!" cried Heathcliff, sinking back into his seat. "Hush, my
darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a
blessing on my lips."
And there they were
fast again. I heard my master mounting the stairs. The cold sweat ran from my
forehead; I was horrified.
"Are you going to
listen to her ravings?" I said passionately. "She does not know what
she says. Will you ruin her because she has not wit to help herself? Get up!
You could be free instantly. That is the most diabolical deed that ever you
did. We are all done for -- master, mistress, and servant."
I wrung my hands and
cried out, and Mr. Linton hastened his step at the noise. In the midst of my
agitation I was sincerely glad to observe that Catherine's arms had fallen
relaxed, and her head hung down.
"She's fainted or
dead," I thought; "so much the better. Far better that she should be
dead than lingering a burden and a misery-maker to all about her."
Edgar sprang to his
unbidden guest, blanched with astonishment and rage. What he meant to do I
cannot tell. However, the other stopped all demonstrations at once by placing
the lifeless-looking form in his arms.
"Look there!"
he said. "Unless you be a fiend, help her first; then you shall speak to
me!"
He walked into the
parlour and sat down. Mr. Linton summoned me, and with great difficulty, and
after resorting to many means, we managed to restore her to sensation; but she
was all bewildered. She sighed and moaned, and knew nobody. Edgar, in his
anxiety for her, forgot her hated friend. I did not. I went at the earliest
opportunity and besought him to depart, affirming that Catherine was better,
and he should hear from me in the morning how she passed the night.
"I shall not
refuse to go out of doors," he answered, "but I shall stay in the
garden; and, Nelly, mind you keep your word to-morrow. I shall be under those
larch trees. Mind! or I pay another visit, whether Linton be in or not."
He sent a rapid glance
through the half-open door of the chamber, and, ascertaining that what I stated
was apparently true, delivered the house of his luckless presence.
About twelve o'clock,
that night, was born the Catherine you saw at Wuthering Heights, a puny, seven
months' child; and two hours after the mother died, having never recovered
sufficient consciousness to miss Heathcliff, or know Edgar.
The latter's
distraction at his bereavement is a subject too painful to be dwelt on; its
after effects showed how deep the sorrow sunk.
A great addition, in my
eyes, was his-being left without an heir. I bemoaned that, as I gazed on the
feeble orphan; and I mentally abused old Linton for, what was only natural
partiality, the securing his estate to his own daughter, instead of his son's.
An unwelcomed infant it
was, poor thing ! It might have wailed out of life, and nobody cared a morsel,
during those first hours of existence. We redeemed the neglect afterwards; but
its beginning was as friendless as its end is likely to be.
Next morning -- bright
and cheerful out of doors -- stole softened in through the blinds of the silent
room, and suffused the couch and its occupant with a mellow, tender glow.
Edgar Linton had his head
laid on the pillow, and his eyes shut. His young and fair features were almost
as death-like as those of the form beside him, and almost as fixed; but his was
the hush of exhausted anguish, and hers of perfect peace. Her brow smooth, her
lids closed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile, no angel in heaven
could be more beautiful than she appeared; and I partook of the infinite calm
in which she lay. My mind was never in a holier frame than while I gazed on
that untroubled image of Divine rest. I instinctively echoed the words she had
uttered, a few hours before. "Incomparably beyond and above us all !
Whether still on earth or now in Heaven, her spirit is at home with God!"
I don't know if it be a
peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise than happy while watching in the
chamber of death, should no frenzied or despairing mourner share the duty with
me. I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an
assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter -- the eternity they have
entered -- where life is boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy,
and joy in its fullness. I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there
is even in a love like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed
release.
To be sure, one might
have doubted, after the wayward and impatient existence she had led, whether
she merited a haven of peace at last. One might doubt in seasons of cold
reflection, but not then, in the presence of her corpse. It asserted its own
tranquillity, which seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its former inhabitants.
Do you believe such
people are happy in the other world, sir? I'd give a great deal to know.
I declined answering
Mrs. Dean's question, which struck me as something heterodox. She proceeded, ---
Retracing the course of
Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to think she is; but we'll leave her
with her Maker.
The master looked
asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the room and steal out to the
pure refreshing air. The servants thought me gone to shake off the drowsiness
of my protracted watch; in reality, my chief motive was seeing Mr. Heathcliff.
If he had remained among the larches all night he would have heard nothing of
the stir at the Grange -- unless, perhaps, he might catch the gallop of the
messenger going to Gimmerton. If he had come nearer he would probably be aware,
from the lights flitting to and fro, and the opening and shutting of the outer
doors, that all was not right within. I wished yet feared to find him. I felt
the terrible news must be told, and I longed to get it over; but how to do it I
did not know. He was there -- at least a few yards farther in the park -- leant
against an old ash tree, his hat off, and his hair soaked with the dew that had
gathered on the budded branches, and fell pattering round him. He had been
standing a long time in that position, for I saw a pair of ousels passing and
repassing scarcely three feet from him, busy in building their nest, and
regarding his proximity no more than that of a piece of timber. They flew off
at my approach, and he raised his eyes and spoke.
"She's dead!"
he said. "I've not waited for you to learn that. Put your handkerchief
away; don't snivel before me. Damn you all! she wants none of your tears!"
I was weeping as much
for him as her; we do sometimes pity creatures that have none of the feeling
either for themselves or others. When I first looked into his face, I perceived
that he had got intelligence of the catastrophe; and a foolish notion struck me
that his heart was quelled, and he prayed, because his lips moved, and his gaze
was bent on the ground.
"Yes, she's
dead!" I answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks -- "gone to
heaven, I hope, where we may, every one, join her, if we take due warning and
leave our evil ways to follow good!"
"Did she take due
warning, then?" asked Heathcliff, attempting a sneer. "Did she die
like a saint? Come, give me a true history of the event. How did ---- "
He endeavoured to
pronounce the name, but could not manage it; and compressing his mouth he held
a silent combat with his inward agony, defying, meanwhile, my sympathy with an
unflinching ferocious stare. "How did she die?" he resumed at last,
fain, notwithstanding his hardihood, to have a support behind him; for, after
the struggle, he trembled, in spite of himself, to his very finger-ends.
"Poor
wretch!" I thought, "you have a heart and nerves the same as your
brother men! Why should you be anxious to conceal them? Your pride cannot blind
God. You tempt Him to wring them till He forces a cry of humiliation."
"Quietly as a
lamb!" I answered aloud. "She drew a sigh, and stretched herself,
like a child reviving, and sinking again to sleep; and five minutes after I
felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!"
"And -- did she
ever mention me?" he asked, hesitating, as if he dreaded the answer to his
question would introduce details that he could not bear to hear.
"Her senses never
returned. She recognized nobody from the time you left her," I said.
"She lies with a sweet smile on her face, and her latest ideas wandered
back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle dream. May she wake as
kindly in the other world!"
"May she wake in
torment!" he cried with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot and
groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. "Why, she's a liar
to the end. Where is she? Not there -- not in heaven -- not perished -- where?
-- Oh! you said you cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer -- I
repeat it till my tongue stiffens -- Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as
long as I am living! You said I killed you -- haunt me, then! The murdered do
haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be
with me always --- take any form -- drive me mad -- only do not leave me in
this abyss, where I cannot find you! O God! it is unutterable! I cannot live
without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"
He dashed his head
against the knotted trunk, and, lifting up his eyes, howled -- not like a man,
but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and spears. I
observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and
forehead were both stained; probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of
others acted during the night. It hardly moved my compassion -- it appalled me;
still I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself
enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command for me to go, and I
obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console.
Mrs. Linton's funeral
was appointed to take place on the Friday following her decease, and till then
her coffin remained uncovered and strewn with flowers and scented leaves in the
great drawing-room. Linton spent his days and nights there, a sleepless
guardian; and --- a circumstance concealed from all but me -- Heathcliff spent
his nights, at least, outside, equally a stranger to repose. I held no
communication with him. Still, I was conscious of his design to enter, if he
could; and on the Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master, from sheer
fatigue, had been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and opened one
of the windows, moved by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on
the faded image of his idol one final adieu. He did not omit to avail himself
of the opportunity, cautiously and briefly -- too cautiously to betray his
presence by the slightest noise. Indeed, I shouldn't have discovered that he
had been there, except for the disarrangement of the drapery about the corpse's
face, and for observing on the floor a curl of light hair fastened with a
silver thread, which, on examination, I ascertained to have been taken from a
locket hung round Catherine's neck. Heathcliff had opened the trinket and cast
out its contents, replacing them by a black lock of his own. I twisted the two,
and enclosed them together.
Mr. Earnshaw was, of
course, invited to attend the remains of his sister to the grave. He sent no
excuse, but he never came; so that, besides her husband, the mourners were
wholly composed of tenants and servants. Isabella was not asked.
The place of
Catherine's interment, to the surprise of the villagers, was neither in the
chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her
own relations outside. It was dug on a green slope in a corner of the kirkyard,
where the wall is so low that heath and bilberry plants have climbed over it
from the moor, and peat mould almost buries it. Her husband lies in the same
spot now, and they have each a simple headstone above, and a plain gray block at
their feet, to mark the graves.
That Friday made the
last of our fine days, for a month. In the evening, the weather broke; the wind
shifted from south to north-east, and brought rain first, and then sleet and
snow.
On the morrow one could
hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer: the primroses and
crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts: the larks were silent, the young
leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened -- And dreary, and chill, and
dismal that morrow did creep over ! My master kept his room -- I took
possession of the lonely parlour, converting it into a nursery; and there I was
sitting, with the moaning doll of a child laid on my knee, rocking it to and
fro, and watching, meanwhile, the still driving flakes build up the uncurtained
window, when the door opened, and some person entered, out of breath and
laughing !
My anger was greater
than my astonishment for a minute; I supposed it one of the maids, and I cried,
"Have done ! How
dare you show your giddiness here ? What would Mr. Linton say if he heard you
?"
"Excuse me!"
answered a familiar voice, "but I know Edgar is in bed, and I cannot stop
myself."
With that, the speaker
came forward to the fire, panting and holding her hand to her side.
"I have run the
whole way from Wuthering Heights!" she continued, after a pause. 'Except
where I've flown -- I couldn't count the number of falls I've had -- Oh, I'm
aching all over! Don't be alarmed -- There shall be an explanation as soon as I
can give it -- only just have the goodness to step out and order the carriage
to take me on to Gimmerton, and tell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my
wardrobe."
The intruder was Mrs.
Heathcliff -- she certainly seemed in no laughing predicament: her hair
streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and water; she was dressed in the
girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting her age more than her position -- a
low frock with short sleeves, and nothing on either head or neck. The frock was
of light silk, and clung to her with wet, and her feet were protected merely by
thin slippers; add to this a deep cut under one ear, which only the cold
prevented from bleeding profusely, a white face scratched and bruised, and a
frame hardly able to support itself, through fatigue, and you may fancy my
first fright was not much allayed when I had had leisure to examine her.
"My dear young
lady," I exclaimed, "I'll stir nowhere, and hear nothing, till you
have removed every article of your clothes, and put on dry things; and
certainly you shall not go to Gimmerton to-night, so it is needless to order
the carriage."
"Certainly I
shall," she said -- "walking or riding. Yet I've no objection to
dress myself decently. And -- Ah, see how it flows down my neck now! The fire
does make it smart."
She insisted on my
fulfilling her directions before she would let me touch her; and not till after
the coachman had been instructed to get ready, and a maid set to pack up some
necessary attire, did I obtain her consent for binding the wound, and helping
to change her garments.
"Now, Ellen,"
she said, when my task was finished and she was seated in an easy-chair on the
hearth, with a cup of tea before her, "you sit down opposite me, and put
poor Catherine's baby away. I don't like to see it. You mustn't think I care
little for Catherine because I behaved so foolishly on entering. I've cried,
too, bitterly -- yes, more than any one else has reason to cry. We parted
unreconciled, you remember, and I shan't forgive myself. But, for all that, I
was not going to sympathize with him -- the brute beast! Oh, give me the poker!
This is the last thing of his I have about me." She slipped the gold ring
from her third finger, and threw it on the floor. "I'll smash it!"
she continued, striking it with childish spite, "and then I'll burn
it!" And she took and dropped the misused article among the coals.
"There! he shall buy another if he gets me back again. He'd be capable of
coming to seek me, to tease Edgar. I dare not stay, lest that notion should
possess his wicked head! And besides, Edgar has not been kind, has he? And I
won't come suing for his assistance, nor will I bring him into more trouble.
Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here, though, if I had not learned he
was out of the way, I'd have halted at the kitchen, washed my face, warmed
myself, got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again to anywhere out of
the reach of my accursed -- off that incarnate goblin! Ah, he was in such a
fury! If he had caught me! It's a pity Earnshaw is not his match in strength. I
wouldn't have run till I'd seen him all but demolished, had Hindley been able
to do it."
"Well, don't talk
so fast, miss," I interrupted; "you'll disorder the handkerchief I
have tied round your face, and make the cut bleed again. Drink your tea, and
take breath, and give over laughing; laughter is sadly out of place under this
roof, and in your condition!"
"An undeniable
truth," she replied. "Listen to that child! It maintains a constant
wail. Send it out of my hearing for an hour; I shan't stay any longer."
I rang the bell and
committed it to a servant's care, and then I inquired what had urged her to
escape from Wuthering Heights in such an unlikely plight, and where she meant
to go, as she refused remaining with us.
"I ought and I wish
to remain," answered she -- "to cheer Edgar and take care of the
baby, for two things, and because the Grange is my right home. But I tell you
he wouldn't let me. Do you think he could bear to see me grow fat and merry,
could bear to think that we were tranquil, and not resolve on poisoning our
comfort? Now, I have the satisfaction of being sure that he detests me to the
point of its annoying him seriously to have me within earshot or eyesight. I
notice, when I enter his presence, the muscles of his countenance are
involuntarily distorted into an expression of hatred, partly arising from his
knowledge of the good causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly
from original aversion. It is strong enough to make me feel pretty certain that
he would not chase me over England supposing I contrived a clear escape, and
therefore I must get quite away. I've recovered from my first desire to be
killed by him; I'd rather he'd kill himself! He has extinguished my love
effectually, and so I'm at my ease. I can recollect yet how I loved him, and
can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him, if -- no, no! Even if he
had doted on me, the devilish nature would have revealed its existence somehow.
Catherine had an awfully perverted taste to esteem him so dearly, knowing him
so well. Monster! Would that he could be blotted out of creation and out of my
memory!"
"Hush, hush! He's
a human being," I said. "Be more charitable. There are worse men than
he is yet."
"He's not a human
being," she retorted, "and he has no claim on my charity. I gave him
my heart, and he took and pinched it to death, and flung it back to me. People
feel with their hearts, Ellen; and since he has destroyed mine, I have not
power to feel for him, and I would not, though he groaned from this to his
dying day, and wept tears of blood for Catherine! No, indeed, indeed, I
wouldn't!" And here Isabella began to cry; but, immediately dashing the
water from her lashes, she recommenced. "You asked, what has driven me to
flight at last? I was compelled to attempt it, because I had succeeded in
rousing his rage a pitch above his malignity. Pulling out the nerves with red-
hot pincers requires more coolness than knocking on the head. He was worked up
to forget the fiendish prudence he boasted of, and proceeded to murderous
violence. I experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him; the sense of
pleasure woke my instinct of self- preservation, so I fairly broke free; and if
ever I come into his hands again, he is welcome to a signal revenge.
"Yesterday, you
know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. He kept himself sober for
the purpose, tolerably sober -- not going to bed mad at six o'clock and getting
up drunk at twelve. Consequently he rose, in suicidal low spirits, as fit for
the church as for a dance; and instead, he sat down by the fire and swallowed
gin or brandy by tumblerfuls.
"Heathcliff -- I
shudder to name him! -- has been a stranger in the house from last Sunday till
to-day. Whether the angels have fed him, or his kin beneath, I cannot tell; but
he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a week. He has just come home at
dawn, and gone upstairs to his chamber, locking himself in -- as if anybody
dreamt of coveting his company! There he has continued, praying like a Methodist
-- only the deity he implored is senseless dust and ashes; and God, when
addressed, was curiously confounded with his own black father! After concluding
these precious orisons -- and they lasted generally till he grew hoarse and his
voice was strangled in his throat -- he would be off again, always straight
down to the Grange! I wonder Edgar did not send for a constable, and give him
into custody. For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was impossible to
avoid regarding this season of deliverance from degrading oppression as a
holiday.
"I recovered
spirits sufficient to hear Joseph's eternal lectures without weeping, and to
move up and down the house less with the foot of a frightened thief than
formerly. You wouldn't think that I should cry at anything Joseph could say;
but he and Hareton are detestable companions. I'd rather sit with Hindley, and
hear his awful talk, than with 't' little maister' and his stanch supporter,
that odious old man! When Heathcliff is in, I'm often obliged to seek the kitchen
and their society, or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers. When he is
not, as was the case this week, I establish a table and chair at one corner of
the house fire, and never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself; and he does
not interfere with my arrangements. He is quieter now than he used to be, if no
one provokes him -- more sullen and depressed and less furious. Joseph affirms
he's sure he's an altered man, that the Lord has touched his heart, and he is
saved 'so as by fire.' I'm puzzled to detect signs of the favourable change;
but it is not my business.
"Yester-evening I
sat in my nook reading some old books till late on towards twelve. It seemed so
dismal to go upstairs, with the wild snow blowing outside, and my thoughts
continually reverting to the kirkyard and the new-made grave. I dared hardly
lift my eyes from the page before me, that melancholy scene so instantly
usurped its place. Hindley sat opposite, his head leant on his hand, perhaps
meditating on the same subject. He had ceased drinking at a point below
irrationality, and had neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours.
There was no sound through the house but the moaning wind, which shook the
windows every now and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and the click of
my snuffers as I removed at intervals the long wick of the candle. Hareton and
Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed. It was very, very sad; and while I
read I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the world, never
to be restored.
"The doleful
silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen latch. Heathcliff had
returned from his watch earlier than usual, owing, I suppose, to the sudden
storm. That entrance was fastened, and we heard him coming round to get in by
the other. I rose with an irrepressible expression of what I felt on my lips,
which induced my companion, who had been staring towards the door, to turn and
look at me.
" 'I'll keep him
out five minutes,' he exclaimed. 'You won't object?'
" 'No; you may
keep him out the whole night for me,' I answered. 'Do; put the key in the lock,
and draw the bolts.'
"Earnshaw
accomplished this ere his guest reached the front. He then came and brought his
chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, and searching in my eyes
for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed from his. As he both looked
and felt like an assassin, he couldn't exactly find that; but he discovered
enough to encourage him to speak.
" 'You and I,' he
said, 'have each a great debt to settle with the man out yonder. If we were
neither of us cowards, we might combine to discharge it. Are you as soft as
your brother? Are you willing to endure to the last, and not once attempt a
repayment?'
" 'I'm weary of
enduring now,' I replied, 'and I'd be glad of a retaliation that wouldn't
recoil on myself; but treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends.
They wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.'
" 'Treachery and
violence are a just return for treachery and violence!' cried Hindley. 'Mrs.
Heathcliff, I'll ask you to do nothing but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now,
can you? I'm sure you would have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the
conclusion of the fiend's existence. He'll be your death unless you overreach
him; and he'll be my ruin. Damn the hellish villain! He knocks at the door as
if he were master here already! Promise to hold your tongue, and before that
clock strikes -- it wants three minutes of one -- you're a free woman!'
"He took the implements
which I described to you in my letter from his breast, and would have turned
down the candle. I snatched it away, however, and seized his arm.
" 'I'll not hold
my tongue,' I said; 'you mustn't touch him. Let the door remain shut, and be
quiet.'
" 'No! I've formed
my resolution, and by God I'll execute it!' cried the desperate being. 'I'll do
you a kindness in spite of yourself, and Hareton justice! And you needn't
trouble your head to screen me; Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regret me,
or be ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute; and it's time to make an
end!'
"I might as well
have struggled with a bear or reasoned with a lunatic. The only resource left
me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended victim of the fate which awaited
him.
" 'You'd better
seek shelter somewhere else to-night,' I exclaimed, in rather a triumphant
tone. 'Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you, if you resist in endeavouring to
enter.'
" 'You'd better
open the door, you ---- ,' be answered, addressing me by some elegant term that
I don't care to repeat.
" 'I shall not
meddle in the matter,' I retorted again. 'Come in and get shot, if you please.
I've done my duty.'
"With that I shut
the window and returned to my place by the fire, having too small a stock of
hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for the danger that menaced him.
Earnshaw swore passionately at me, affirming that I loved the villain yet, and
calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I evinced. And I, in my
secret heart (and conscience never reproached me), thought what a blessing it
would be for him should Heathcliff put him out of misery; and what a blessing
for me should he send Heathcliff to his right abode! As I sat nursing these
reflections, the casement behind me was banged on to the floor by a blow from
the latter individual, and his black countenance looked blightingly through.
The stanchions stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled,
exulting in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow,
and his sharp cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wrath, gleamed through the
dark.
" 'Isabella, let
me in, or I'll make you repent!' he 'girned,' as Joseph calls it.
" 'I cannot commit
murder,' I replied. 'Mr. Hindley stands sentinel with a knife and loaded
pistol.'
" 'Let me in by
the kitchen door,' he said.
" 'Hindley will be
there before me,' I answered; 'and that's a poor love of yours that cannot bear
a shower of snow! We were left at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon
shone, but the moment a blast of winter returns, you must run for shelter!
Heathcliff, if I were you, I'd go stretch myself over her grave and die like a
faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it? You had
distinctly impressed on me the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your
life. I can't imagine how you think of surviving her loss.'
" 'He's there, is
he?' exclaimed my companion, rushing to the gap. 'If I can get my arm out I can
hit him!'
"I'm afraid,
Ellen, you'll set me down as really wicked; but you don't know all, so don't
judge. I wouldn't have aided or abetted an attempt on even his life for
anything. Wish that he were dead, I must; and therefore I was fearfully
disappointed, and unnerved by terror for the consequences of my taunting
speech, when he flung himself on Earnshaw's weapon and wrenched it from his
grasp.
"The charge
exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into its owner's wrist.
Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up the flesh as it passed on,
and thrust it dripping into his pocket. He then took a stone, struck down the
division between two windows, and sprang in. His adversary had fallen senseless
with excessive pain and the flow of blood that gushed from an artery or a large
vein. The ruffian kicked and trampled on him, and dashed his head repeatedly
against the flags, holding me with one hand meantime to prevent me summoning
Joseph. He exerted preter-human self-denial in abstaining from finishing him
completely; but getting out of breath he finally desisted, and dragged the
apparently inanimate body on to the settle. There he tore off the sleeve of
Earnshaw's coat, and bound up the wound with brutal roughness, spitting and
cursing during the operation as energetically as he had kicked before. Being at
liberty, I lost no time in seeking the old servant, who, having gathered by
degrees the purport of my hasty tale, hurried below, gasping as he descended
the steps two at once.
" 'What is ther to
do now -- what is ther to do now?'
" 'There's this to
do,' thundered Heathcliff, 'that your master's mad; and should he last another
month, I'll have him to an asylum. And how the devil did you come to fasten me
out, you toothless hound? Don't stand muttering and mumbling there. Come, I'm
not going to nurse him. Wash that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your
candle -- it is more than half brandy.'
" 'And so ye've
been murthering on him!' exclaimed Joseph, lifting his hands and eyes in
horror. 'If iver I seed a seeght loike this! May the Lord ---- '
"Heathcliff gave
him a push on to his knees in the middle of the blood, and flung a towel to
him; but instead of proceeding to dry it up, he joined his hands and began a
prayer, which excited my laughter from its odd phraseology. I was in the
condition of mind to be shocked at nothing; in fact, I was as reckless as some
malefactors show themselves at the foot of the gallows.
" 'Oh, I forgot
you,' said the tyrant. 'You shall do that. Down with you! And you conspire with
him against me, do you, viper? There, that is work fit for you!"
"He shook me till
my teeth rattled, and pitched me beside Joseph, who steadily concluded his
supplications, and then rose, vowing he would set off for the Grange directly.
Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he had fifty wives dead, he should
inquire into this. He was so obstinate in his resolution that Heathcliff deemed
it expedient to compel from my lips a recapitulation of what had taken place,
standing over me, heaving with malevolence, as I reluctantly delivered the
account in answer to his questions. It required a great deal of labour to
satisfy the old man that Heathcliff was not the aggressor, especially with my
hardly-wrung replies. However, Mr. Earnshaw soon convinced him that he was alive
still. Joseph hastened to administer a dose of spirits, and by their succour
his master presently regained motion and consciousness. Heathcliff, aware that
his opponent was ignorant of the treatment received while insensible, called
him deliriously intoxicated, and said he should not notice his atrocious
conduct further, but advised him to get to bed. To my joy, he left us, after
giving this judicious counsel, and Hindley stretched himself on the hearth-
stone. I departed to my own room, marvelling that I had escaped so easily.
"This morning when
I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr. Earnshaw was sitting by the
fire deadly sick. His evil genius, almost as gaunt and ghastly, leant against
the chimney. Neither appeared inclined to dine; and, having waited till all was
cold on the table, I commenced alone. Nothing hindered me from eating heartily,
and I experienced a certain sense of satisfaction and superiority as, at
intervals, I cast a look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of a
quiet conscience within me. After I had done, I ventured on the unusual liberty
of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw's seat, and kneeling in the
corner beside him.
"Heathcliff did
not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated his features almost as
confidently as if they had been turned to stone. His forehead, that I once
thought so manly, and that I now think so diabolical, was shaded with a heavy
cloud; his basilisk eyes were nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping,
perhaps, for the lashes were wet then; his lips devoid of their ferocious
sneer, and sealed in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another,
I would have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In his case, I was
gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I couldn't miss
this chance of sticking in a dart. His weakness was the only time when I could
taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong."
"Fie, fie,
miss!" I interrupted. "One might suppose you had never opened a Bible
in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely that ought to suffice you. It
is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to His."
"In general I'll
allow that it would be, Ellen," she continued; "but what misery laid
on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand in it? I'd rather he
suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings, and he might know that I was
the cause. Oh, I owe him so much! On only one condition can I hope to forgive
him. It is, if I may take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, for every
wrench of agony return a wrench, reduce him to my level; as he was the first to
injure, make him the first to implore pardon; and then -- why, then, Ellen, I
might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be
revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I
handed him a glass, and asked him how he was.
" 'Not as ill as I
wish,' he replied. 'But leaving out my arm, every inch of me is as sore as if I
had been fighting with a legion of imps.'
" 'Yes, no
wonder,' was my next remark. 'Catherine used to boast that she stood between
you and bodily harm. She meant that certain persons would not hurt you for fear
of offending her. It's well people don't really rise from their grave, or last
night she might have witnessed a repulsive scene! Are not you bruised and cut
over your chest and shoulders?'
" 'I can't say,'
he answered; 'but what do you mean? Did he dare to strike me when I was down?'
" 'He trampled on
and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground,' I whispered. 'And his mouth
watered to tear you with his teeth, because he's only half man -- not so much
-- and the rest fiend.'
"Mr. Earnshaw
looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe, who, absorbed in his
anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him. The longer he stood, the
plainer his reflections revealed their blackness through his features.
" 'Oh, if God
would but give me strength to strangle him in my last agony, I'd go to hell
with joy,' groaned the impatient man, writhing to rise, and sinking back in
despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the struggle.
" 'Nay, it's
enough that he has murdered one of you,' I observed aloud. 'At the Grange,
every one knows your sister would have been living now had it not been for Mr.
Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I
recollect how happy we were, how happy Catherine was before he came, I'm fit to
curse the day.'
"Most likely
Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said than the spirit of the
person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes rained down
tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared
full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a
moment towards me; the fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed
and drowned that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.
" 'Get up, and
begone out of my sight,' said the mourner.
"I guessed he
uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible.
" 'I beg your
pardon,' I replied. 'But I loved Catherine too; and her brother requires
attendance, which, for her sake, I shall supply. Now that she's dead, I see her
in Hindley. Hindley has exactly her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them
out, and made them black and red; and her -- '
" 'Get up,
wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!' he cried, making a movement that
caused me to make one also.
" 'But, then,' I
continued, holding myself ready to flee, 'if poor Catherine had trusted you,
and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible, degrading title of Mrs. Heathcliff,
she would soon have presented a similar picture. She wouldn't have borne your
abominable behaviour quietly. Her detestation and disgust must have found
voice.'
"The back of the
settle and Earnshaw's person interposed between me and him; so instead of
endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner knife from the table and flung
it at my head. It struck beneath my ear, and stopped the sentence I was
uttering; but, pulling it out, I sprang to the door and delivered another,
which I hope went a little deeper than his missile. The last glimpse I caught
of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the embrace of his host; and
both fell locked together on the hearth. In my flight through the kitchen I
bade Joseph speed to his master. I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a
litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blest as a soul
escaped from purgatory, I bounded, leaped, and flew down the steep road; then,
quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks, and
wading through marshes, precipitating myself, in fact, towards the beacon light
of the Grange. And far rather would I be condemned to a perpetual dwelling in
the infernal regions than, even for one night, abide beneath the roof of
Wuthering Heights again."
Isabella ceased
speaking, and took a drink of tea; then she rose, and bidding me put on her
bonnet and a great shawl I had brought, and turning a deaf ear to my entreaties
for her to remain another hour, she stepped on to a chair, kissed Edgar's and
Catherine's portraits, bestowed a similar salute on me, and descended to the
carriage, accompanied by Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her
mistress. She was driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood; but a
regular correspondence was established between her and my master when things
were more settled. I believe her new abode was in the south, near London; there
she had a son born, a few months subsequent to her escape. He was christened
Linton, and, from the first, she reported him to be an ailing, peevish
creature.
Mr. Heathcliff, meeting
me one day in the village, inquired where she lived. I refused to tell. He
remarked that it was not of any moment, only she must beware of coming to her
brother. She should not be with him, if he had to keep her himself. Though I
would give no information, he discovered, through some of the other servants,
both her place of residence and the existence of the child. Still he didn't
molest her, for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose. He
often asked about the infant, when he saw me; and on hearing its name, smiled
grimly, and observed --
"They wish me to
hate it too, do they?"
"I don't think
they wish you to know anything about it," I answered.
"But I'll have
it," he said, "when I want it. They may reckon on that."
Fortunately its mother
died before the time arrived, some thirteen years after the decease of
Catherine, when Linton was twelve or a little more.
On the day succeeding
Isabella's unexpected visit, I had no opportunity of speaking to my master. He
shunned conversation, and was fit for discussing nothing. When I could get him
to listen, I saw it pleased him that his sister had left her husband, whom he
abhorred with an intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem
to allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion that he refrained from going
anywhere where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff. Grief and that
together transformed him into a complete hermit. He threw up his office of
magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided the village on all occasions,
and spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his park and grounds,
only varied by solitary rambles on the moors and visits to the grave of his
wife, mostly at evening, or early morning before other wanderers were abroad.
But he was too good to be thoroughly unhappy long. He didn't pray for
Catherine's soul to haunt him. Time brought resignation and a melancholy
sweeter than common joy. He recalled her memory with ardent, tender love, and
hopeful aspiring to the better world, where he doubted not she was gone.
And he had earthly
consolation and affections also. For a few days, I said, he seemed regardless
of the puny successor to the departed; that coldness melted as fast as snow in
April, and ere the tiny thing could stammer a word or totter a step, it wielded
a despot's sceptre in his heart. It was named Catherine; but he never called it
the name in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short, probably
because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always Cathy; it
formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection with her; and
his attachment sprang from its relation to her far more than from its being his
own.
I used to draw a
comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplex myself to explain
satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in similar circumstances. They
had both been fond husbands, and were both attached to their children; and I
could not see how they shouldn't both have taken the same road, for good or
evil. But, I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head,
has shown himself sadly the worse and the weaker man. When his ship struck, the
captain abandoned his post; and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed
into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on
the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul. He
trusted God, and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other despaired. They
chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them. But you'll
not want to hear my moralizing, Mr. Lockwood; you'll judge as well as I can all
these things. At least, you'll think you will, and that's the same. The end of
Earnshaw was what might have been expected; it followed fast on his sister's;
there were scarcely six months between them. We at the Grange never got a very
succinct account of his state preceding it; all that I did learn was on
occasion of going to aid in the preparations for the funeral. Mr. Kenneth came
to announce the event to my master.
"Well,
Nelly," said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not to alarm
me with an instant presentiment of bad news, "it's yours and my turn to go
into mourning at present. Who's given us the slip now, do you think?"
"Who?" I
asked in a flurry.
"Why, guess,"
he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle on a hook by the door.
"And nip up the corner of your apron. I'm certain you'll need it."
"Not Mr.
Heathcliff, surely?" I exclaimed.
"What! would you
have tears for him?" said the doctor. "No, Heathcliff's a tough young
fellow; he looks blooming to-day. I've just seen him. He's rapidly regaining
flesh since he lost his better half."
"Who is it, then,
Mr. Kenneth?" I repeated impatiently.
"Hindley Earnshaw
-- your old friend Hindley," he replied, "and my wicked gossip,
though he's been too wild for me this long while. There! I said we should draw
water. But cheer up. He died true to his character -- drunk as a lord. Poor
lad! I'm sorry, too. One can't help missing an old companion, though he had the
worst tricks with him that ever man imagined, and has done me many a rascally
turn. He's barely twenty-seven, it seems; that's your own age. Who would have
thought you were born in one year?"
I confess this blow was
greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton's death. Ancient associations
lingered round my heart. I sat down in the porch and wept as for a blood
relation, desiring Mr. Kenneth to get another servant to introduce him to the
master. I could not hinder myself from pondering on the question, "Had he
had fair play?" Whatever I did, that idea would bother me. It was so
tiresomely pertinacious that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering
Heights and assist in the last duties to the dead. Mr. Linton was extremely
reluctant to consent, but I pleaded eloquently for the friendless condition in
which he lay, and I said my old master and foster-brother had a claim on my
services as strong as his own. Besides, I reminded him that the child Hareton
was his wife's nephew, and, in the absence of nearer kin, he ought to act as
its guardian; and he ought to and must inquire how the property was left, and
look over the concerns of his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to
such matters then, but he bade me speak to his lawyer, and at length permitted
me to go. His lawyer had been Earnshaw's also. I called at the village, and
asked him to accompany me. He shook his head, and advised that Heathcliff
should be let alone, affirming, if the truth were known, Hareton would be found
little else than a beggar.
"His father died
in debt," he said; "the whole property is mortgaged, and the sole
chance for the natural heir is to allow him an opportunity of creating some
interest in the creditor's heart, that he may be inclined to deal leniently towards
him."
When I reached the
Heights, I explained that I had come to see everything carried on decently; and
Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress, expressed satisfaction at my
presence. Mr. Heathcliff said he did not perceive that I was wanted; but I
might stay and order the arrangements for the funeral, if I chose.
"Correctly,"
he remarked, "that fool's body should be buried at the cross-roads,
without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him ten minutes yesterday
afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the two doors of the house against
me, and he has spent the night in drinking himself to death deliberately! We
broke in this morning, for we heard him snorting like a horse; and there he
was, laid over the settle; flaying and scalping would not have wakened him. I
sent for Kenneth, and he came, but not till the beast had changed into carrion.
He was both dead and cold and stark; and so you'll allow it was useless making
more stir about him."
The old servant
confirmed this statement, but muttered, --
"I'd rayther he'd
goan hisseln for t' doctor! I sud ha' taen tent o' t' maister better nor him;
and he warn't deead when I left, naught o' t' soart!"
I insisted on the
funeral being respectable. Mr. Heathcliff said I might have my own way there
too; only, he desired me to remember that the money for the whole affair came
out of his pocket. He maintained a hard, careless deportment, indicative of
neither joy nor sorrow; if anything, it expressed a flinty gratification at a
piece of difficult work successfully executed. I observed once, indeed,
something like exultation in his aspect; it was just when the people were
bearing the coffin from the house. 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!" The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this speech. He
played with Heathcliff's whiskers, and stroked his cheek; but I divined its
meaning, and observed tartly, "That boy must go back with me to
Thrushcross Grange, sir. There is nothing in the world less yours than he
is."
"Does Linton say
so?" he demanded.
"Of course; he has
ordered me to take him," I replied.
"Well," said
the scoundrel, "we'll not argue the subject now; but I have a fancy to try
my hand at rearing a young one, so intimate to your master that I must supply
the place of this with my own, if he attempt to remove it. I don't engage to
let Hareton go undisputed, but I'll be pretty sure to make the other come!
Remember to tell him."
This hint was enough to
bind our hands. I repeated its substance on my return; and Edgar Linton, little
interested at the commencement, spoke no more of interfering. I'm not aware
that he could have done it to any purpose, had he been ever so willing.
The guest was now the
master of Wuthering Heights. He held firm possession, and proved to the
attorney -- who, in his turn, proved it to Mr. Linton -- that Earnshaw had
mortgaged every yard of land he owned for cash to supply his mania for gaming;
and he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In that manner Hareton, who should now
be the first gentleman in the neighbourhood, was reduced to a state of complete
dependence on his father's inveterate enemy, and lives in his own house as a
servant, deprived of the advantage of wages, quite unable to right himself,
because of his friendlessness and his ignorance that he has been wronged.
The twelve years,
continued Mrs. Dean, following that dismal period, were the happiest of my
life: my greatest troubles, in their passage, rose from our little lady's
trifling illnesses, which she had to experience in common with all children,
rich and poor.
For the rest, after the
first six months, she grew like a larch; and could walk and talk too, in her
own way, before the heath blossomed a second time over Mrs. Linton's dust.
She was the most
winning thing that ever brought sunshine into a desolate house -- a real beauty
in face -- with the Earnshaws' handsome dark eyes, but the Lintons' fair skin,
and small features, and yellow curling hair. Her spirit was high, though not
rough, and qualified by a heart sensitive and lively to excess in its
affections. That capacity for intense attachments reminded me of her mother;
still she did not resemble her; for she could be soft and mild as a dove, and
she had a gentle voice, and pensive expression: her anger was never furious; her
love never fierce; it was deep and tender.
However, it must be
acknowledged, she had faults to foil her gifts. A propensity to be saucy was
one; and a perverse will that indulged children invariably acquire, whether
they be good tempered or cross. If a servant chanced to vex her, it was always:
"I shall tell papa!" And if he reproved her, even by a look, you
would have thought it a heart-breaking business: I don't believe he ever did
speak a harsh word to her.
He took her education
entirely on himself, and made it an amusement: fortunately, curiosity and a
quick intellect urged her into an apt scholar; she learnt rapidly and eagerly,
and did honour to his teaching.
Till she reached the
age of thirteen, she had not once been beyond the range of the park by herself.
Mr. Linton would take her with him a mile or so outside, on rare occasions; but
he trusted her to no one else. Gimmerton was an unsubstantial name in her ears;
the chapel the only building she had approached or entered, except her own
home. Wuthering Heights and Mr. Heathcliff did not exist for her. She was a
perfect recluse, and, apparently, perfectly contented. Sometimes, indeed, while
surveying the country from her nursery window, she would observe, --
"Ellen, how long
will it be before I can walk to the top of those hills? I wonder what lies on
the other side. Is it the sea?"
"No, Miss
Cathy," I would answer; "it is hills again, just like these."
"And what are
those golden rocks like when you stand under them?" she once asked.
The abrupt descent of
Peniston Crags particularly attracted her notice, especially when the setting
sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape
besides lay in shadow. I explained that they were bare masses of stone, with
hardly enough earth in their clefts to nourish a stunted tree.
"And why are they
bright so long after it is evening here?" she pursued.
"Because they are
a great deal higher up than we are," replied I; "you could not climb
them -- they are too high and steep. In winter the frost is always there before
it comes to us; and deep into summer I have found snow under that black hollow
on the north-east side."
"Oh, you have been
on them!" she cried gleefully. "Then I can go, too, when I am a
woman. Has papa been, Ellen?"
"Papa would tell
you, miss," I answered hastily, "that they are not worth the trouble
of visiting. The moors, where you ramble with him, are much nicer; and
Thrushcross Park is the finest place in the world."
"But I know the
park, and I don't know those," she murmured to herself. "And I should
delight to look round me from the brow of that tallest point. My little pony
Minny shall take me some time."
One of the maids
mentioning the Fairy Cave quite turned her head with a desire to fulfil this
project. She teased Mr. Linton about it, and he promised she should have the
journey when she got older. But Miss Catherine measured her age by months, and,
"Now, am I old enough to go to Peniston Crags?" was the constant
question in her mouth. The road thither wound close by Wuthering Heights. Edgar
had not the heart to pass it, so she received as constantly the answer, "Not
yet, love; not yet."
I said Mrs. Heathcliff
lived above a dozen years after quitting her husband. Her family were of a
delicate constitution. She and Edgar both lacked the ruddy health that you will
generally meet in these parts. What her last illness was I am not certain. I
conjecture they died of the same thing -- a kind of fever, slow at its
commencement, but incurable, and rapidly consuming life towards the close. She
wrote to inform her brother of the probable conclusion of a four months'
indisposition under which she had suffered, and entreated him to come to her,
if possible, for she had much to settle, and she wished to bid him adieu, and
deliver Linton safely into his hands. Her hope was, that Linton might be left
with him, as he had been with her. His father, she would fain convince herself,
had no desire to assume the burden of his maintenance or education. My master
hesitated not a moment in complying with her request. Reluctant as he was to
leave home at ordinary calls, he flew to answer this, commending Catherine to
my peculiar vigilance, in his absence, with reiterated orders that she must not
wander out of the park, even under my escort. He did not calculate on her going
unaccompanied.
He was away three
weeks. The first day or two my charge sat in a corner of the library, too sad
for either reading or playing. In that quiet state she caused me little
trouble; but it was succeeded by an interval of impatient fretful weariness;
and being too busy and too old then to run up and down amusing her, I hit on a
method by which she might entertain herself. I used to send her on her travels
round the grounds, now on foot and now on a pony, indulging her with a patient
audience of all her real and imaginary adventures, when she returned.
The summer shone in
full prime, and she took such a taste for this solitary rambling that she often
contrived to remain out from breakfast till tea; and then the evenings were
spent in recounting her fanciful tales. I did not fear her breaking bounds,
because the gates were generally locked, and I thought she would scarcely
venture forth alone, if they had stood wide open. Unluckily, my confidence
proved misplaced. Catherine came to me one morning at eight o'clock, and said
she was that day an Arabian merchant, going to cross the desert with his
caravan, and I must give her plenty of provision for herself and beasts -- a
horse and three camels, personated by a large hound and a couple of pointers. I
got together good store of dainties, and slung them in a basket on one side of
the saddle; and she sprang up as gay as a fairy, sheltered by her wide-brimmed
hat and gauze veil from the July sun, and trotted off with a merry laugh,
mocking my cautious counsel to avoid galloping and come back early. The naughty
thing never made her appearance at tea. One traveller, the hound, being an old
dog and fond of its ease, returned; but neither Cathy, nor the pony, nor the
two pointers were visible in any direction. I dispatched emissaries down this
path and that path, and at last went wandering in search of her myself. There
was a labourer working at a fence round a plantation, on the borders of the
grounds. I inquired of him if he had seen our young lady.
"I saw her at
morn," he replied. "She would have me to cut her a hazel switch, and
then she leapt her Galloway over the hedge yonder, where it is lowest, and
galloped out of sight."
You may guess how I
felt at hearing this news. It struck me directly she must have started for
Peniston Crags. "What will become of her?" I ejaculated, pushing through
a gap which the man was repairing, and making straight to the highroad. I
walked as if for a wager, mile after mile, till a turn brought me in view of
the Heights; but no Catherine could I detect far or near. The Crags lie about a
mile and a half beyond Mr. Heathcliff's place, and that is four from the
Grange, so I began to fear night would fall ere I could reach them. "And
what if she should have slipped in clambering among them," I reflected,
"and been killed or broken some of her bones?" My suspense was truly
painful; and at first it gave me delightful relief to observe, in hurrying by
the farmhouse, Charlie, the fiercest of the pointers, lying under a window,
with swelled head and bleeding ear. I opened the wicket and ran to the door,
knocking vehemently for admittance. A woman whom I knew, and who formerly lived
at Gimmerton, answered. She had been servant there since the death of Mr.
Earnshaw.
"Ah," said
she, "you are come a-seeking your little mistress! Don't be frightened.
She's here safe; but I'm glad it isn't the master."
"He is not at
home, then, is he?" I panted, quite breathless with quick walking and
alarm.
"No, no," she
replied; "both he and Joseph are off, and I think they won't return this
hour or more. Step in and rest you a bit."
I entered, and beheld
my stray lamb seated on the hearth, rocking herself in a little chair that had
been her mother's when a child. Her hat was hung against the wall, and she
seemed perfectly at home, laughing and chattering, in the best spirits imaginable,
to Hareton -- now a great, strong lad of eighteen -- who stared at her with
considerable curiosity and astonishment, comprehending precious little of the
fluent succession of remarks and questions which her tongue never ceased
pouring forth.
"Very well,
miss!" I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angry countenance.
"This is your last ride till papa comes back. I'll not trust you over the
threshold again, you naughty, naughty girl!"
"Aha, Ellen!"
she cried gaily, jumping up and running to my side. "I shall have a pretty
story to tell tonight. And so you've found me out. Have you ever been here in
your life before?"
"Put that hat on,
and home at once," said I. "I'm dreadfully grieved at you, Miss
Cathy; you've done extremely wrong. It's no use pouting and crying; that won't
repay the trouble I've had, scouring the country after you. To think how Mr.
Linton charged me to keep you in; and you stealing off so! It shows you are a
cunning little fox, and nobody will put faith in you any more."
"What have I
done?" sobbed she, instantly checked. "Papa charged me nothing. He'll
not scold me, Ellen; he's never cross like you."
"Come, come!"
I repeated. "I'll tie the ribbon. Now, let us have no petulance. Oh, for
shame! You thirteen years old, and such a baby!"
This exclamation was
caused by her pushing the hat from her head, and retreating to the chimney out
of my reach.
"Nay," said
the servant; "don't be hard on the bonny lass, Mrs. Dean. We made her
stop. She'd fain have ridden forwards, afeard you should be uneasy. Hareton
offered to go with her, and I thought he should. It's a wild road over the
hills."
Hareton, during the
discussion, stood with his hands in his pockets, too awkward to speak, though
he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.
"How long am I to
wait?" I continued, disregarding the woman's interference. "It will
be dark in ten minutes. -- Where is the pony, Miss Cathy? And where is Phoenix?
I shall leave you, unless you be quick; so please yourself."
"The pony is in
the yard," she replied, "and Phoenix is shut in there. He's bitten,
and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all about it; but you are in a bad
temper, and don't deserve to hear."
I picked up her hat,
and approached to reinstate it; but perceiving that the people of the house
took her part, she commenced capering round the room; and on my giving chase,
ran like a mouse over and under and behind the furniture, rendering it
ridiculous for me to pursue. Hareton and the woman laughed, and she joined
them, and waxed more impertinent still, till I cried, in great irritation, --
"Well, Miss Cathy,
if you were aware whose house this is, you'd be glad enough to get out."
"It's your
father's, isn't it?" said she, turning to Hareton.
"Nay," he
replied, looking down, and blushing bashfully.
He could not stand a
steady gaze from her eyes, though they were just his own.
"Whose, then --
your master's?" she asked.
He coloured deeper,
with a different feeling, muttered an oath, and turned away.
"Who is his
master?" continued the tiresome girl, appealing to me. "He talked
about 'our house,' and 'our folk.' I thought he had been the owner's son. And
he never said miss. He should have done, shouldn't he, if he's a servant?"
Hareton grew black as a
thunder-cloud at this childish speech. I silently shook my questioner, and at
last succeeded in equipping her for departure.
"Now, get my
horse," she said, addressing her unknown kinsman as she would one of the
stable-boys at the Grange. "And you may come with me. I want to see where
the goblin-hunter rises in the marsh, and to hear about the fairishes, as you
call them. But make haste! What's the matter? Get my horse, I say."
"I'll see thee
damned before I be thy servant!" growled the lad.
"You'll see me
what?" asked Catherine in surprise.
"Damned, thou
saucy witch!" he replied.
"There, Miss
Cathy, you see you have got into pretty company," I interposed. "Nice
words to be used to a young lady! Pray don't begin to dispute with him. Come,
let us seek for Minny ourselves, and begone."
"But, Ellen,"
cried she, staring, fixed in astonishment, "how dare he speak so to me?
Mustn't he be made to do as I ask him? -- You wicked creature, I shall tell
papa what you said. Now, then!"
Hareton did not appear
to feel this threat, so the tears sprang into her eyes with indignation.
"You bring the pony," she exclaimed, turning to the woman, "and
let my dog free this moment!"
"Softly,
miss," answered she addressed; "you'll lose nothing by being civil.
Though Mr. Hareton there be not the master's son, he's your cousin; and I was
never hired to serve you."
"He my
cousin!" cried Cathy, with a scornful laugh.
"Yes,
indeed," responded her reprover.
"O Ellen! don't
let them say such things," she pursued, in great trouble. "Papa is
gone to fetch my cousin from London. My cousin is a gentleman's son. That my
---- " She stopped, and wept outright, upset at the bare notion of
relationship with such a clown.
"Hush, hush!"
I whispered; "people can have many cousins, and of all sorts, Miss Cathy,
without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if
they be disagreeable and bad."
"He's not -- he's
not my cousin, Ellen!" she went on, gathering fresh grief from reflection,
and flinging herself into my arms for refuge from the idea.
I was much vexed at her
and the servant for their mutual revelations, having no doubt of Linton's
approaching arrival, communicated by the former, being reported to Mr.
Heathcliff, and feeling as confident that Catherine's first thought on her
father's return would be to seek an explanation of the latter's assertion
concerning her rude-bred kindred. Hareton, recovering from his disgust at being
taken for a servant, seemed moved by her distress; and having fetched the pony
round to the door, he took, to propitiate her, a fine crooked-legged
terrier-whelp from the kennel, and putting it into her hand bade her whist, for
he meant nought. Pausing in her lamentations, she surveyed him a glance of awe
and horror, then burst forth anew.
I could scarcely
refrain from smiling at this antipathy to the poor fellow, who was a well-made,
athletic youth, good-looking in features, and stout and healthy, but attired in
garments befitting his daily occupations of working on the farm and lounging
among the moors after rabbits and game. Still, I thought I could detect in his
physiognomy a mind owning better qualities than his father ever possessed --
good things lost amid a wilderness of weeds, to be sure, whose rankness far
over- topped their neglected growth; yet, notwithstanding, evidence of a
wealthy soil, that might yield luxuriant crops under other and favourable
circumstances. Mr. Heathcliff, I believe, had not treated him physically ill --
thanks to his fearless nature, which offered no temptation to that course of
oppression. He had none of the timid susceptibility that would have given zest
to ill- treatment, in Heathcliff's judgment. He appeared to have bent his
malevolence on making him a brute. He was never taught to read or write, never
rebuked for any bad habit which did not annoy his keeper, never led a single
step towards virtue or guarded by a single precept against vice. And from what
I heard, Joseph contributed much to his deterioration by a narrow- minded
partiality which prompted him to flatter and pet him, as a boy, because he was
the head of the old family. And as he had been in the habit of accusing
Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, when children, of putting the master past
his patience, and compelling him to seek solace in drink by what he termed
their "offalld ways," so at present he laid the whole burden of
Hareton's faults on the shoulders of the usurper of his property. If the lad
swore, he wouldn't correct him, nor however culpably he behaved. It gave Joseph
satisfaction, apparently, to watch him go the worst lengths. He allowed that
the lad was ruined, that his soul was abandoned to perdition; but then he
reflected that Heathcliff must answer for it. Hareton's blood would be required
at his hands; and there lay immense consolation in that thought. Joseph had
instilled into him a pride of name and of his lineage. He would, had he dared,
have fostered hate between him and the present owner of the Heights; but his
dread of that owner amounted to superstition, and he confined his feelings
regarding him to muttered innuendoes and private comminations. I don't pretend
to be intimately acquainted with the mode of living customary in those days at
Wuthering Heights. I only speak from hearsay, for I saw little. The villagers
affirmed Mr. Heathcliff was near, and a cruel hard landlord to his tenants; but
the house inside had regained its ancient aspect of comfort under female
management, and the scenes of riot common in Hindley's time were not now
enacted within its walls. The master was too gloomy to seek companionship with
any people, good or bad; and he is yet.
This, however, is not
making progress with my story. Miss Cathy rejected the peace-offering of the
terrier, and demanded her own dogs, Charlie and Phoenix. They came limping, and
hanging their heads; and we set out for home, sadly out of sorts, every one of
us. I could not wring from my little lady how she had spent the day, except
that, as I supposed, the goal of her pilgrimage was Peniston Crags; and she
arrived without adventure to the gate of the farmhouse, when Hareton happened
to issue forth, attended by some canine followers, who attacked her train. They
had a smart battle before their owners could separate them; that formed an
introduction. Catherine told Hareton who she was, and where she was going, and
asked him to show her the way, finally beguiling him to accompany her. He
opened the mysteries of the Fairy Cave and twenty other queer places. But,
being in disgrace, I was not favoured with a description of the interesting
objects she saw. I could gather, however, that her guide had been a favourite
till she hurt his feelings by addressing him as a servant, and Heathcliff's
housekeeper hurt hers by calling him her cousin. Then the language he had held
to her rankled in her heart; she who was always "love," and
"darling," and "queen," and "angel," with
everybody at the Grange, to be insulted so shockingly by a stranger! She did
not comprehend it; and hard work I had to obtain a promise that she would not
lay the grievance before her father. I explained how he objected to the whole
household at the Heights, and how sorry he would be to find she had been there;
but I insisted most on the fact that if she revealed my negligence of his
orders, he would perhaps be so angry that I should have to leave; and Cathy
couldn't bear that prospect. She pledged her word, and kept it, for my sake.
After all, she was a sweet little girl.
A letter, edged with
black, announced the day of my master's return. Isabella was dead; and he wrote
to bid me get mourning for his daughter, and arrange a room, and other
accommodations, for his youthful nephew.
Catherine ran wild with
joy at the idea of welcoming her father back: and indulged most sanguine
anticipations of the innumerable excellencies of her "real" cousin.
The evening of their
expected arrival came. Since early morning, she had been busy, ordering her own
small affairs; and now, attired in her new black frock -- poor thing! her
aunt's death impressed her with no definite sorrow -- she obliged me, by
constant worrying, to walk with her down through the grounds to meet them.
"Linton is just
six months younger than I am," she chattered, as we strolled leisurely
over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under shadow of the trees. "How
delightful it will be to have him for a playfellow ! Aunt Isabella sent papa a
beautiful lock of his hair; it was lighter than mine -- more flaxen, and quite
as fine. I have it carefully preserved in a little glass box; and I've often
thought what pleasure it would be to see its owner -- Oh! I am happy -- and
papa, dear, dear papa! Come, Ellen, let us run! come run !"
She ran, and returned
and ran again, many times before my sober footsteps reached the gate, and then
she seated herself on the grassy bank beside the path, and tried to wait
patiently; but that was impossible; she couldn't be still a minute. "How
long they are!" she exclaimed. "Ah, I see some dust on the road --
they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go a little way -- half
a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile ? Do say yes, to that clump of birches at
the turn !"
I refused staunchly:
and, at length, her suspense was ended: the travelling carriage rolled in
sight.
Miss Cathy shrieked and
stretched out her arms, as soon as she caught her father's face looking from
the window. He descended, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable
interval elapsed ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. While
they exchanged caresses, I took a peep in to see after Linton. He was asleep in
a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter -- a
pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for my master's
younger brother, so strong was the resemblance; but there was a sickly
peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had. The latter saw me
looking; and having shaken hands, advised me to close the door and leave him
undisturbed, for the journey had fatigued him. Cathy would fain have taken one
glance, but her father told her to come, and they walked together up the park,
while I hastened before to prepare the servants.
"Now,
darling," said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted at the
bottom of the front steps, "your cousin is not so strong or so merry as
you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time since;
therefore, don't expect him to play and run about with you directly. And don't
harass him much by talking. Let him be quiet this evening, at least, will
you?"
"Yes, yes,
papa," answered Catherine; "but I do want to see him, and he hasn't
once looked out."
The carriage stopped,
and the sleeper being roused was lifted to the ground by his uncle.
"This is your
cousin Cathy, Linton," he said, putting their little hands together.
"She's fond of you already; and mind you don't grieve her by crying
to-night. Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is at an end, and you have
nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please."
"Let me go to bed,
then," answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine's salute; and he put up
his fingers to remove incipient tears.
"Come, come,
there's a good child," I whispered, leading him in. "You'll make her
weep too. See how sorry she is for you!"
I do not know whether
it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad a countenance as himself,
and returned to her father. All three entered, and mounted to the library,
where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to remove Linton's cap and mantle, and
placed him on a chair by the table; but he was no sooner seated than he began
to cry afresh. My master inquired what was the matter.
"I can't sit on a
chair," sobbed the boy.
"Go to the sofa,
then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea," answered his uncle patiently.
He had been greatly
tried during the journey, I felt convinced, by his fretful ailing charge.
Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down. Cathy carried a foot- stool
and her cup to his side. At first she sat silent; but that could not last. She
had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be;
and she commenced stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him
tea in her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better.
He dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.
"Oh, he'll do very
well," said the master to me, after watching them a minute -- "very
well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a child of his own age will
instil new spirit into him soon, and by wishing for strength he'll gain
it."
"Ay, if we can
keep him!" I mused to myself, and sore misgivings came over me that there
was slight hope of that. And then, I thought, however will that weakling live
at Wuthering Heights? Between his father and Hareton, what playmates and instructors
they'll be! Our doubts were presently decided -- even earlier than I expected.
I had just taken the children upstairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linton
asleep -- he would not suffer me to leave him till that was the case; I had
come down, and was standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle
for Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen and informed me that Mr.
Heathcliff's servant Joseph was at the door, and wished to speak with the
master.
"I shall ask him
what he wants first," I said, in considerable trepidation. "A very
unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the instant they have returned from a
long journey. I don't think the master can see him."
Joseph had advanced
through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and now presented himself in the
hall. He was donned in his Sunday garments, with his most sanctimonious and
sourest face; and, holding his hat in one hand and his stick in the other, he
proceeded to clean his shoes on the mat.
"Good-evening,
Joseph," I said coldly. "What business brings you here
to-night?"
"It's Maister
Linton I mun spake to," he answered, waving me disdainfully aside.
"Mr. Linton is
going to bed; unless you have something particular to say, I'm sure he won't
hear it now," I continued. "You had better sit down in there, and
entrust your message to me."
"Which is his
rahm?" pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closed doors.
I perceived he was bent
on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly I went up to the library, and announced
the unseasonable visitor, advising that he should be dismissed till next day.
Mr. Linton had no time to empower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my
heels, and pushing into the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the
table, with his two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began in an
elevated tone, as if anticipating opposition, --
"Hathecliff has
sent me for his lad, and I munn't goa back 'bout him."
Edgar Linton was silent
a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrow overcast his features. He would
have pitied the child on his own account; but recalling Isabella's hopes and
fears, and anxious wishes for her son, and her commendations of him to his
care, he grieved bitterly at the prospect of yielding him up, and searched in
his heart how it might be avoided. No plan offered itself. The very exhibition
of any desire to keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory.
There was nothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going to rouse
him from his sleep.
"Tell Mr.
Heathcliff," he answered calmly, "that his son shall come to
Wuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go the distance
now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desired him to remain
under my guardianship; and at present his health is very precarious."
"Noa!" said
Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and assuming an authoritative
air; "noa! that means naught. Hathecliff maks noa 'count o' t' mother, nor
ye norther, but he'll hev his lad, und I mun tak him; soa now ye knaw!"
"You shall not
to-night!" answered Linton decisively.
"Walk downstairs
at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. -- Ellen, show him down.
-- Go!"
And aiding the
indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of him, and closed the
door.
"Varrah
weell!" shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. "To-morn, he's come
hisseln; and thrust him out, if ye darr!"
To obviate the danger
of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton commissioned me to take the boy home
early, on Catherine's pony, and, said he --
"As we shall now
have no influence over his destiny, good or bad, you must say nothing of where
he is gone to my daughter; she cannot associate with him hereafter; and it is
better for her to remain in ignorance of his proximity, lest she should be
restless, and anxious to visit the Heights -- merely tell her, his father sent
for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us."
Linton was very
reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and astonished to be
informed that he must prepare for further travelling: but I softened off the
matter by stating that he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr.
Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he did not like to defer the
pleasure till he should recover from his late journey.
"My father?"
he cried, in strange perplexity. "Mamma never told me I had a father.
Where does he live ? I'd rather stay with uncle."
"He lives a little
distance from the Grange," I replied, "just beyond those hills -- not
so far but you may walk over here, when you get hearty. And you should be glad
to go home, and to see him. You must try to love him, as you did your mother,
and then he will love you."
"But why have I
not heard of him before?" asked Linton; "why didn't mamma and he live
together, as other people do ?"
"He had business
to keep him in the north," I answered; "and your mother's health
required her to reside in the south."
"And why didn't
mamma speak to me about him ?" persevered the child. "She often
talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago. How am I to love papa? I
don't know him."
"Oh, all children
love their parents," I said. "Your mother, perhaps, thought you would
want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you. Let us make haste. An
early ride on such a beautiful morning is much preferable to an hour's more
sleep."
"Is she to go with
us," he demanded -- "the little girl I saw yesterday?"
"Not now,"
replied I.
"Is uncle?"
he continued.
"No; I shall be
your companion there," I said.
Linton sank back on his
pillow and fell into a brown study.
"I won't go
without uncle," he cried at length. "I can't tell where you mean to
take me."
I attempted to persuade
him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meet his father. Still he
obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and I had to call for my
master's assistance in coaxing him out of bed. The poor thing was finally got
off, with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short, that
Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded,
which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way. The pure
heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny
relieved his despondency after a while. He began to put questions concerning
his new home and its inhabitants with greater interest and liveliness.
"Is Wuthering
Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange?" he inquired, turning
to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mist mounted and formed a
fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.
"It is not so
buried in trees," I replied, "and it is not quite so large, but you
can see the country beautifully all round, and the air is healthier for you --
fresher and dryer. You will perhaps think the building old and dark at first,
though it is a respectable house -- the next best in the neighbourhood. And you
will have such nice rambles on the moors. Hareton Earnshaw -- that is Miss
Cathy's other cousin, and so yours in a manner -- will show you all the
sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green
hollow your study; and now and then your uncle may join you in a walk. He does
frequently walk out on the hills."
"And what is my
father like?" he asked. "Is he as young and handsome as uncle?"
"He's as
young," said I; "but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner,
and he is taller and bigger altogether. He'll not seem to you so gentle and
kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way; still, mind you be frank and
cordial with him; and naturally he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you
are his own."
"Black hair and
eyes!" mused Linton. "I can't fancy him. Then I am not like him, am
I?"
"Not much," I
answered; not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion
and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes -- his mother's
eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, they had not
a vestige of her sparkling spirit.
"How strange that
he should never come to see mamma and me" he murmured. "Has he ever
seen me? If he has, I must have been a baby. I remember not a single thing
about him."
"Why, Master
Linton," said I, "three hundred miles is a great distance; and ten
years seem very different in length to a grown-up person compared with what
they do to you. It is probable Mr. Heathcliff proposed going from summer to
summer, but never found a convenient opportunity; and now it is too late. Don't
trouble him with questions on the subject; it will disturb him for no
good."
The boy was fully
occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of the ride, till we halted
before the farmhouse garden gate. I watched to catch his impressions in his
countenance. He surveyed the carved front and low-browed lattices, the
straggling gooseberry bushes and crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then
shook his head. His private feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of
his new abode. But he had sense to postpone complaining. There might be
compensation within. Before he dismounted I went and opened the door. It was
half-past six; the family had just finished breakfast; the servant was clearing
and wiping down the table. Joseph stood by his master's chair, telling some
tale concerning a lame horse, and Hareton was preparing for the hay-field.
"Hullo,
Nelly!" said Mr. Heathcliff when he saw me. "I feared I should have
to come down and fetch my property myself. You've brought it, have you? Let us
see what we can make of it.
He got up and strode to
the door. Hareton and Joseph followed in gaping curiosity. Poor Linton ran a
frightened eye over the faces of the three.
"Sure-ly,"
said Joseph, after a grave inspection, "he's swopped wi' ye, maister, an'
yon's his lass!" Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of
confusion, uttered a scornful laugh.
"God! what a
beauty! what a lovely, charming thing" he exclaimed. "Haven't they
reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly? Oh, damn my soul! but that's worse
than I expected, and the devil knows I was not sanguine!"
I bade the trembling
and bewildered child get down and enter. He did not thoroughly comprehend the
meaning of his father's speech, or whether it were intended for him; indeed, he
was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father. But he
clung to me with growing trepidation; and on Mr. Heathcliff's taking a seat and
bidding him "come hither," he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.
"Tut, tut!"
said Heathcliff, stretching out a hand and dragging him roughly between his
knees, and then holding up his head by the chin. "None of that nonsense!
We're not going to hurt thee, Linton. Isn't that thy name? Thou art thy
mother's child entirely! Where is my share in thee, puling chicken?"
He took off the boy's
cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls, felt his slender arms and his small
fingers, during which examination Linton ceased crying, and lifted his great
blue eyes to inspect the inspector.
"Do you know
me?" asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that the limbs were all
equally frail and feeble.
"No," said
Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear.
"You've heard of
me, I dare say?"
"No," he
replied again.
"No! What a shame
of your mother, never to waken your filial regard for me! You are my son, then,
I'll tell you; and your mother was a wicked slut to leave you in ignorance of
the sort of father you possessed. Now, don't wince and colour up. Though it is
something to see you have not white blood. Be a good lad, and I'll do for you.
-- Nelly, if you be tired, you may sit down; if not, get home again. I guess
you'll report what you hear and see to the cipher at the Grange; and this thing
won't be settled while you linger about it."
"Well,"
replied I, "I hope you'll be kind to the boy, Mr. Heathcliff, or you'll
not keep him long; and he's all you have akin in the wide world that you will
ever know, remember."
"I'll be very kind
to him, you needn't fear," he said, laughing. "Only nobody else must
be kind to him. I'm jealous of monopolizing his affection. And to begin my
kindness, Joseph, bring the lad some breakfast. -- Hareton, you infernal calf,
begone to your work -- Yes, Nell," he added, when they had departed,
"my son is prospective owner of your place, and I should not wish him to
die till I was certain of being his successor. Besides, he's mine, and I want
the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates -- my child
hiring their children to till their father's lands for wages. That is the sole
consideration which can make me endure the whelp. I despise him for himself,
and hate him for the memories he revives. But that consideration is sufficient.
He's safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master tends his
own. I have a room up- stairs furnished for him in handsome style. I've engaged
a tutor also to come three times a week, from twenty miles distance, to teach
him what he pleases to learn. I've ordered Hareton to obey him; and, in fact,
I've arranged everything with a view to preserve the superior and the gentleman
in him, above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves
the trouble. If I wished any blessing in the world, it was to find him a worthy
object of pride; and I'm bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced whining
wretch!"
While he was speaking,
Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk-porridge, and placed it before Linton,
who stirred round the homely mess with a look of aversion, and affirmed he
could not eat it. I saw the old man- servant shared largely in his master's
scorn of the child, though he was compelled to retain the sentiment in his
heart, because Heathcliff plainly meant his underlings to hold him in honour.
"Cannot ate
it?" repeated he, peering in Linton's face, and subduing his voice to a
whisper, for fear of being overheard. "But Maister Hareton nivir ate
naught else, when he wer a little un; and what wer gooid eneugh for him's gooid
eneugh for ye, I's rayther think."
"I shan't eat
it!" answered Linton snappishly. "Take it away." Joseph snatched
up the food indignantly, and brought it to us.
"Is there aught
ails th' victuals?" he asked, thrusting the tray under Heathcliff's nose.
"What should ail
them?" he said.
"Wah!"
answered Joseph, "yon dainty chap says he cannut ate 'em. But I guess it's
raight. His mother wer just soa; we wer a'most too mucky to sow t' corn for
makking her breead."
"Don't mention his
mother to me," said the master angrily. "Get him something that he
can eat, that's all. -- What is his usual food, Nelly?"
I suggested boiled milk
or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions to prepare some. Come, I
reflected, his father's selfishness may contribute to his comfort. He perceives
his delicate constitution, and the necessity of treating him tolerably. I'll
console Mr. Edgar by acquainting him with the turn Heathcliff's humour has
taken. Having no excuse for lingering longer, I slipped out, while Linton was
engaged in timidly rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog. But he was
too much on the alert to be cheated. As I closed the door, I heard a cry, and a
frantic repetition of the words, --
"Don't leave me!
I'll not stay here! I'll not stay here"
Then the latch was raised
and fell. They did not suffer him to come forth. I mounted Minny, and urged her
to a trot; and so my brief guardianship ended.
We had sad work with
little Cathy that day: she rose in high glee, eager to join her cousin; and
such passionate tears and lamentations followed the news of his departure, that
Edgar himself was obliged to sooth her, by affirming he should come back soon;
he added, however, "if I can get him;" and there were no hopes of
that.
This promise poorly
pacified her; but time was more potent; and though still, at intervals, she
inquired of her father when Linton would return, before she did see him again,
his features had waxed so dim in her memory that she did not recognise him.
When I chanced to
encounter the housekeeper of Wuthering Heights, in paying business-visits to
Gimmerton, I used to ask how the young master got on; for he lived almost as
secluded as Catherine herself, and was never to be seen. I could gather from
her that he continued in weak health, and was a tiresome inmate. She said Mr.
Heathcliff seemed to dislike him ever longer and worse, though he took some
trouble to conceal it. He had an antipathy to the sound of his voice, and could
not do at all with his sitting in the same room with him many minutes together.
There seldom passed
much talk between them; Linton learnt his lessons and spent his evenings in a
small apartment they called the parlour; or else lay in bed all day; for he was
constantly getting coughs, and colds, and aches, and pains of some sort.
"And I never knew
such a faint-hearted creature," added the woman; "nor one so careful
of hisseln. He will go on, if I leave the window open, a bit late in the
evening. Oh ! it's killing, a breath of night air! And he must have a fire in the
middle of summer; and Joseph's 'bacca pipe is poison; and he must always have
sweets and dainties, and always milk, milk for ever -- heeding naught how the
rest of us are pinched in winter -- and there he'll sit, wrapped in his furred
cloak in his chair by the fire, and some toast and water or other slop on the
hob to sip at; and if Hareton, for pity, comes to amuse him -- Hareton is not
bad-natured, though he's rough -- they're sure to part, one swearing and the
other crying. I believe the master would relish Earnshaw's thrashing him to a
mummy, if he were not his son; and I'm certain he would be fit to turn him out
of doors if he knew half the nursing he gives hisseln. But then he won't go
into danger of temptation. He never enters the parlour, and should Linton show those
ways in the house where he is, he sends him upstairs directly."
I divined from this
account that utter lack of sympathy had rendered young Heathcliff selfish and
disagreeable, if he were not so originally; and my interest in him consequently
decayed, though still I was moved with a sense of grief at his lot, and a wish
that he had been left with us. Mr. Edgar encouraged me to gain information. He
thought a great deal about him, I fancy, and would have run some risk to see
him; and he told me once to ask the housekeeper whether he ever came into the
village. She said he had only been twice, on horseback, accompanying his
father, and both times he pretended to be quite knocked up for three or four
days afterwards. That housekeeper left, if I recollect rightly, two years after
he came, and another, whom I did not know, was her successor. She lives there
still.
Time wore on at the
Grange in its former pleasant way till Miss Cathy reached sixteen. On the
anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs of rejoicing, because it
was also the anniversary of my late mistress's death. Her father invariably
spent that day alone in the library, and walked at dusk as far as Gimmerton
kirkyard, where he would frequently prolong his stay beyond midnight. Therefore
Catherine was thrown on her own resources for amusement. This 20th of March was
a beautiful spring day, and when her father had retired, my young lady came
down dressed for going out, and said she asked to have a ramble on the edge of
the moor with me. Mr. Linton had given her leave, if we went only a short
distance and were back within the hour.
"So make haste,
Ellen!" she cried. "I know where I wish to go -- where a colony of
moor game are settled. I want to see whether they have made their nests yet."
"That must be a
good distance up," I answered.
"They don't breed
on the edge of the moor."
"No, it's
not," she said. "I've gone very near with papa."
I put on my bonnet and
sallied out, thinking nothing more of the matter. She bounded before me, and
returned to my side, and was off again like a young grey- hound; and at first I
found plenty of entertainment in listening to the larks singing far and near,
and enjoying the sweet, warm sunshine, and watching her, my pet and my delight,
with her golden ringlets flying loose behind, and her bright cheek, as soft and
pure in its bloom as a wild rose, and her eyes radiant with cloudless pleasure.
She was a happy creature, and an angel, in those days. It's a pity she could
not be content.
"Well," said I,
"where are your moor-game, Miss Cathy? We should be at them. The Grange
park fence is a great way off now."
"Oh, a little
farther -- only a little farther, Ellen," was her answer continually.
"Climb to that hillock, pass that bank, and by the time you reach the
other side I shall have raised the birds."
But there were so many
hillocks and banks to climb and pass that at length I began to be weary, and
told her we must halt and retrace our steps. I shouted to her, as she had
outstripped me a long way. She either did not hear or did not regard, for she
still sprang on, and I was compelled to follow. Finally she dived into a
hollow, and before I came in sight of her again she was two miles nearer
Wuthering Heights than her own home; and I beheld a couple of persons arrest
her, one of whom I felt convinced was Mr. Heathcliff himself.
Cathy had been caught
in the fact of plundering, or at least hunting out the nests of the grouse. The
Heights were Heathcliff's land, and he was reproving the poacher.
"I've neither
taken any nor found any," she said, as I toiled to them, expanding her
hands in corroboration of the statement. "I didn't mean to take them; but
papa told me there were quantities up here, and I wished to see the eggs."
Heathcliff glanced at me
with an all-meaning smile, expressing his acquaintance with the party, and,
consequently, his malevolence towards it, and demanded who "papa"
was.
"Mr. Linton of
Thrushcross Grange," she replied.
"I thought you did
not know me, or you wouldn't have spoken in that way."
"You suppose papa
is highly esteemed and respected, then?" he said sarcastically.
"And what are
you?" inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on the speaker. "That man
I've seen before. Is he your son?"
She pointed to Hareton,
the other individual, who had gained nothing but increased bulk and strength by
the addition of two years to his age; he seemed as awkward and rough as ever.
"Miss Cathy,"
I interrupted, "it will be three hours instead of one that we are out
presently. We really must go back."
"No, that man is
not my son," answered Heathcliff, pushing me aside. "But I have one,
and you have seen him before too; and though your nurse is in a hurry, I think
both you and she would be the better for a little rest. Will you just turn this
nab of heath and walk into my house? You'll get home earlier for the ease, and
you shall receive a kind welcome."
I whispered Catherine
that she mustn't on any account accede to the proposal. It was entirely out of
the question.
"Why?" she
asked aloud. "I'm tired of running, and the ground is dewy. I can't sit
here. Let us go, Ellen. Besides, he says I have seen his son. He's mistaken, I
think; but I guess where he lives -- at the farmhouse I visited in coming from
Peniston Crags. Don't you?"
"I do -- Come,
Nelly, hold your tongue; it will be a treat for her to look in on us. --
Hareton, get forwards with the lass. -- You shall walk with me, Nelly."
"No, she's not
going to any such place," I cried, struggling to release my arm, which he
had seized; but she was almost at the door-stones already, scampering round the
brow at full speed. Her appointed companion did not pretend to escort her; he
shied off by the roadside and vanished.
"Mr. Heathcliff,
it's very wrong," I continued. "You know you mean no good. And there
she'll see Linton, and all will be told as soon as ever we return; and I shall
have the blame."
"I want her to see
Linton," he answered. "He's looking better these few days. It's not
often he's fit to be seen. And we'll soon persuade her to keep the visit
secret. Where is the harm of it?"
"The harm of it is
that her father would hate me if he found I suffered her to enter your house;
and I am convinced you have a bad design in encouraging her to do so," I
replied.
"My design is as
honest as possible. I'll inform you of its whole scope," he said --
"that the two cousins may fall in love, and get married. I'm acting
generously to your master. His young chit has no expectations, and should she
second my wishes, she'll be provided for at once as joint successor with
Linton."
"If Linton
died," I answered, "and his life is quite uncertain, Catherine would
be the heir."
"No, she would
not," he said. "There is no clause in the will to secure it so. His
property would go to me. But to prevent disputes I desire their union, and am
resolved to bring it about."
"And I am resolved
she shall never approach your house with me again," I returned, as we
reached the gate, where Miss Cathy waited our coming.
Heathcliff bade me be
quiet, and preceding us up the path, hastened to open the door. My young lady
gave him several looks, as if she could not exactly make up her mind what to
think of him; but now he smiled when he met her eye, and softened his voice in
addressing her; and I was foolish enough to imagine the memory of her mother
might disarm him from desiring her injury. Linton stood on the hearth. He had
been out walking in the fields, for his cap was on, and he was calling to
Joseph to bring him dry shoes. He had grown tall of his age, still wanting some
months of sixteen. His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion
brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary lustre borrowed
from the salubrious air and genial sun.
"Now, who is
that?" asked Mr. Heathcliff, turning to Cathy. "Can you tell?"
"Your son?"
she said, having doubtfully surveyed first one and then the other.
"Yes, yes,"
answered he. "But is this the only time you have beheld him? Think! Ah!
you have a short memory. -- Linton, don't you recall your cousin that you used
to tease us so with wishing to see?"
"What,
Linton!" cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at the name. "Is
that little Linton? He's taller than I am! -- Are you Linton?"
The youth stepped
forward and acknowledged himself. She kissed him fervently, and they gazed with
wonder at the change time had wrought in the appearance of each. Catherine had
reached her full height; her figure was both plump and slender, elastic as
steel, and her whole aspect sparkling with health and spirits. Linton's looks
and movements were very languid, and his form extremely slight; but there was a
grace in his manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him not
unpleasing. After exchanging numerous marks of fondness with him, his cousin
went to Mr. Heathcliff, who lingered by the door, dividing his attention
between the objects inside and those that lay without -- pretending, that is,
to observe the latter, and really noting the former alone.
"And you are my
uncle, then!" she cried, reaching up to salute him. "I thought I
liked you, though you were cross at first. Why don't you visit at the Grange
with Linton? To live all these years such close neighbours, and never see us,
is odd. What have you done so for?"
"I visited it once
or twice too often before you were born," he answered. "There -- damn
it! If you have any kisses to spare, give them to Linton -- they are thrown
away on me."
"Naughty
Ellen!" exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next with her lavish
caresses. "Wicked Ellen, to try to hinder me from entering! But I'll take
this walk every morning in future -- may I, uncle? -- and sometimes bring papa.
Won't you be glad to see us?"
"Of course!"
replied the uncle, with a hardly suppressed grimace, resulting from his deep
aversion to both the proposed visitors. "But stay," he continued,
turning towards the young lady. "Now I think of it, I'd better tell you. Mr.
Linton has a prejudice against me. We quarrelled at one time of our lives with
unchristian ferocity, and if you mention coming here to him he'll put a veto on
your visits altogether. Therefore you must not mention it, unless you be
careless of seeing your cousin hereafter. You may come if you will, but you
must not mention it,"
"Why did you
quarrel?" asked Catherine, considerably crestfallen.
"He thought me too
poor to wed his sister," answered Heathcliff, "and was grieved that I
got her. His pride was hurt, and he'll never forgive it."
"That's
wrong!" said the young lady. "Some time I'll tell him so. But Linton
and I have no share in your quarrel. I'll not come here then; he shall come to
the Grange."
"It will be too
far for me," murmured her cousin; "to walk four miles would kill me.
No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then -- not every morning, but once or
twice a week."
The father launched
towards his son a glance of bitter contempt.
"I am afraid,
Nelly, I shall lose my labour," he muttered to me. "Miss Catherine,
as the ninny calls her, will discover his value, and send him to the devil.
Now, if it had been Hareton! Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet
Hareton, with all his degradation? I'd have loved the lad had he been some one else.
But I think he's safe from her love. I'll pit him against that paltry creature,
unless it bestir itself briskly. We calculate it will scarcely last till it is
eighteen. Oh, confound the vapid thing! He's absorbed in drying his feet, and
never looks at her. -- Linton!"
"Yes,
father," answered the boy.
"Have you nothing
to show your cousin anywhere about -- not a weasel's nest? Take her into the
garden before you change your shoes, and into the stable to see your
horse."
"Wouldn't you
rather sit here?" asked Linton, addressing Cathy in a tone which expressed
reluctance to move again.
"I don't
know," she replied, casting a longing look to the door, and evidently
eager to be active. He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire. Heathcliff
rose and went into the kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out for
Hareton. Hareton responded, and presently the two re-entered. The young man had
been washing himself, as was visible by the glow on his cheeks and his wetted
hair.
"Oh, I'll ask you,
uncle," cried Miss Cathy, recollecting the housekeeper's assertion.
"That is not my cousin, is he?"
"'Yes," he
replied -- "your mother's nephew. Don't you like him?" Catherine
looked queer.
"Is he not a
handsome lad?" he continued. The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and
whispered a sentence in Heathcliff's ear. He laughed. Hareton darkened. I
perceived he was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim
notion of his inferiority. But his master or guardian chased the frown by
exclaiming, --
"You'll be the
favourite among us, Hareton! She says you are a ---- What was it? Well,
something very flattering. Here! you go with her round the farm. And behave
like a gentleman, mind! Don't use any bad words; and don't stare when the young
lady is not looking at you, and be ready to hide your face when she is; and
when you speak, say your words slowly, and keep your hands out of your pockets.
Be off, and entertain her as nicely as you can."
He watched the couple
walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenance completely averted from
his companion. He seemed studying the familiar landscape with a stranger's and
an artist's interest.
Catherine took a sly
look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned her attention to
seeking out objects of amusement for herself, and tripped merrily on, lilting a
tune to supply the lack of conversation.
"I've tied his
tongue," observed Heathcliff. "He'll not venture a single syllable
all the time! Nelly, you recollect me at his age -- nay, some years younger.
Did I ever look so stupid -- so 'gaumless,' as Joseph calls it?"
"Worse," I
replied, "because more sullen with it."
"I've a pleasure
in him," he continued, reflecting aloud. "He has satisfied my
expectations. If he were a born fool I should not enjoy it half so much. But
he's no fool; and I can sympathize with all his feelings, having felt them
myself. I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly. It is merely a
beginning of what he shall suffer, though. And he'll never be able to emerge
from his bathos of coarseness and ignorance. I've got him faster than his
scoundrel of a father secured me, and lower, for he takes a pride in his
brutishness. I've taught him to scorn everything extra-animal as silly and
weak. Don't you think Hindley would be proud of his son if he could see him --
almost as proud as I am of mine? But there's this difference; one is gold put
to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of
silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it, yet I shall have the merit of
making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities,
and they are lost, rendered worse than unavailing. I have nothing to regret; he
would have more than any but me are aware of. And the best of it is, Hareton is
damnably fond of me! You'll own that I've outmatched Hindley there. If the dead
villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for his offspring's wrongs, I
should have the fun of seeing the said offspring fight him back again,
indignant that he should dare to rail at the one friend he has in the
world."
Heathcliff chuckled a
fiendish laugh at the idea. I made no reply, because I saw that he expected
none. Meantime our young companion, who sat too removed from us to hear what
was said, began to evince symptoms of uneasiness, probably repenting that he
had denied himself the treat of Catherine's society for fear of a little
fatigue. His father remarked the restless glances wandering to the window, and
the hand irresolutely extended towards his cap.
"Get up, you idle
boy!" he exclaimed, with assumed heartiness. "Away after them! They
are just at the corner, by the stand of hives."
Linton gathered his
energies, and left the hearth. The lattice was open, and as he stepped out I
heard Cathy inquiring of her unsociable attendant what was that inscription
over the door? Hareton stared up, and scratched his head like a true clown.
"It's some
damnable writing," he answered. "I cannot read it."
"Can't read
it?" cried Catherine. "I can read it; it's English. But I want to
know why it is there."
Linton giggled -- the
first appearance of mirth he had exhibited.
"He does not know
his letters," he said to his cousin.
"Could you believe
in the existence of such a colossal dunce?"
"Is he all as he
should be?" asked Miss Cathy seriously, "or is he simple -- not
right? I've questioned him twice now, and each time he looked so stupid I think
he does not understand me. I can hardly understand him, I'm sure."
Linton repeated his
laugh, and glanced at Hareton tauntingly, who certainly did not seem quite
clear of comprehension at that moment.
"There's nothing
the matter but laziness -- is there, Earnshaw?" he said. "My cousin
fancies you are an idiot. There you experience the consequence of scorning
'book-larning,' as you would say. -- Have you noticed, Catherine, his frightful
Yorkshire pronunciation?"
"Why, where the
devil is the use on't?" growled Hareton, more ready in answering his daily
companion. He was about to enlarge further, but the two youngsters broke into a
noisy fit of merriment, my giddy miss being delighted to discover that she
might turn his strange talk to matter of amusement.
"Where is the use
of the devil in that sentence?" tittered Linton. "Papa told you not
to say any bad words, and you can't open your mouth without one. Do try to
behave like a gentleman -- now do!"
"If thou weren't
more a lass than a lad, I'd fell thee this minute, I would, pitiful lath of a
crater!" retorted the angry boor, retreating, while his face burned with
mingled rage and mortification, for he was conscious of being insulted, and
embarrassed how to resent it.
Mr. Heathcliff having
overheard the conversation as well as I, smiled when he saw him go, but
immediately afterwards cast a look of singular aversion on the flippant pair,
who remained chattering in the doorway, the boy finding animation enough while
discussing Hareton's faults and deficiencies and relating anecdotes of his
goings-on, and the girl relishing his pert and spiteful sayings, without
considering the ill-nature they evinced. I began to dislike more than to
compassionate Linton, and to excuse his father, in some measure, for holding
him cheap.
We stayed till
afternoon -- I could not tear Miss Cathy away sooner; but happily my master had
not quitted his apartment, and remained ignorant of our prolonged absence. As
we walked home I would fain have enlightened my charge on the characters of the
people we had quitted, but she got it into her head that I was prejudiced
against them.
"Aha!" she
cried, "you take papa's side, Ellen. You are partial, I know, or else you
wouldn't have cheated me so many years into the notion that Linton lived a long
way from here. I'm really extremely angry, only I'm so pleased I can't show it.
But you must hold your tongue about my uncle. He's my uncle, remember, and I'll
scold papa for quarrelling with him."
And so she ran on, till
I relinquished the endeavour to convince her of her mistake. She did not
mention the visit that night, because she did not see Mr. Linton. Next day it
all came out, sadly to my chagrin. And still I was not altogether sorry. I
thought the burden of directing and warning would be more efficiently borne by
him than me. But he was too timid in giving satisfactory reasons for his wish
that she should shun connection with the household of the Heights, and
Catherine liked good reasons for every restraint that harassed her petted will.
"Papa!" she
exclaimed, after the morning's salutations, "guess whom I saw yesterday in
my walk on the moors. Ah, papa, you started! You've not done right, have you,
now? I saw ---- But listen, and you shall hear how I found you out, and Ellen,
who is in league with you, and yet pretended to pity me so when I kept hoping,
and was always disappointed about Linton's coming back."
She gave a faithful
account of her excursion and its consequences; and my master, though he cast
more than one reproachful look at me, said nothing till she had concluded. Then
he drew her to him, and asked if she knew why he had concealed Linton's near
neighbourhood from her. Could she think it was to deny her a pleasure that she
might harmlessly enjoy?
"It was because
you disliked Mr. Heathcliff," she answered.
"Then you believe
I care more for my own feelings than yours, Cathy?" he said. "No, it
was not because I disliked Mr. Heathcliff, but because Mr. Heathcliff dislikes
me, and is a most diabolical man, delighting to wrong and ruin those he hates,
if they give him the slightest opportunity. I knew that you could not keep up
an acquaintance with your cousin without being brought into contact with him,
and I knew he would detest you on my account; so for your own good, and nothing
else, I took precautions that you should not see Linton again. I meant to
explain this some time as you grew older, and I'm sorry I delayed it."
"But Mr.
Heathcliff was quite cordial, papa," observed Catherine, not at all
convinced; "and he didn't object to our seeing each other. He said I might
come to his house when I pleased, only I must not tell you, because you had
quarrelled with him, and would not forgive him for marrying Aunt Isabella. And
you won't. you are the one to be blamed. He is willing to let us be friends --
at least, Linton and I -- and you are not."
My master, perceiving
that she would not take his word for her uncle-in-law's evil disposition, gave
a hasty sketch of his conduct to Isabella, and the manner in which Wuthering
Heights became his property. He could not bear to discourse long upon the
topic, for though he spoke little of it, he still felt the same horror and
detestation of his ancient enemy that had occupied his heart ever since Mrs.
Linton's death. "She might have been living yet if it had not been for
him!" was his constant bitter reflection; and in his eyes Heathcliff
seemed a murderer. Miss Cathy -- conversant with no bad deeds except her own
slight acts of disobedience, injustice, and passion, arising from hot temper
and thoughtlessness, and repented of on the day they were committed -- was
amazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood on and cover revenge for
years, and deliberately prosecute its plans without a visitation of remorse.
She appeared so deeply impressed and shocked at this new view of human nature,
excluded from all her studies and all her ideas till now, that Mr. Edgar deemed
it unnecessary to pursue the subject. He merely added, --
"You will know
hereafter, darling, why I wish you to avoid his house and family. Now return to
your old employments and amusements, and think no more about them."
Catherine kissed her
father and sat down quietly to her lessons for a couple of hours, according to
custom; then she accompanied him into the grounds, and the whole day passed as
usual. But in the evening, when she had retired to her room, and I went to help
her to undress, I found her crying on her knees by the bedside.
"Oh, fie, silly
child!" I exclaimed. "If you had any real griefs you'd be ashamed to
waste a tear on this little contrariety. You never had one shadow of
substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine. Suppose, for a minute, that master and I
were dead, and you were by yourself in the world; how would you feel then?
Compare the present occasion with such an affliction as that, and be thankful
for the friends you have, instead of coveting more."
"I'm not crying
for myself, Ellen," she answered -- "it's for him. He expected to see
me again to-morrow, and there he'll be so disappointed; and he'll wait for me,
and I shan't come."
"Nonsense!"
said I. "Do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him?
Hasn't he Hareton for a companion? Not one in a hundred would weep at losing a
relation they had just seen twice, for two afternoons. Linton will conjecture
how it is, and trouble himself no further about you."
"But may I not
write a note to tell him why I cannot come," she asked, rising to her
feet, "and just send those books I promised to lend him? His books are not
as nice as mine, and he wanted to have them extremely when I told him how
interesting they were. May I not, Ellen?"
"No, indeed! no,
indeed!" replied I, with decision.
"Then he would
write to you, and there'd never be an end of it. No, Miss Catherine, the
acquaintance must be dropped entirely; so papa expects, and I shall see that it
is done."
"But how can one
little note ---- " she recommenced, putting on an imploring countenance.
"Silence!" I
interrupted. "We'll not begin with your little notes. Get into bed."
She threw at me a very
naughty look -- so naughty that I would not kiss her good-night at first. I
covered her up and shut her door in great displeasure, but repenting half-way,
I returned softly, and lo! there was miss standing at the table with a bit of
blank paper before her and a pencil in her hand, which she guiltily slipped out
of sight on my entrance.
"You'll get nobody
to take that, Catherine," I said, "if you write it; and at present I
shall put out your candle."
I set the extinguisher
on the flame, receiving as I did so a slap on my hand, and a petulant
"Cross thing!" I then quitted her again, and she drew the bolt in one
of her worst, most peevish humours. The letter was finished and forwarded to
its destination by a milk-fetcher who came from the village; but that I did not
learn till some time afterwards. Weeks passed on, and Cathy recovered her
temper, though she grew wondrous fond of stealing off to corners by herself;
and often, if I came near her suddenly while reading, she would start and bend
over the book, evidently desirous to hide it, and I detected edges of loose
paper sticking out beyond the leaves. She also got a trick of coming down early
in the morning and lingering about the kitchen, as if she were expecting the
arrival of something; and she had a small drawer in a cabinet in the library
which she would trifle over for hours, and whose key she took special care to
remove when she left it.
One day, as she
inspected this drawer, I observed that the playthings and trinkets which
recently formed its contents were transmuted into bits of folded paper. My
curiosity and suspicions were aroused. I determined to take a peep at her
mysterious treasures; so at night, as soon as she and my master were safe upstairs,
I searched and readily found among my house-keys one that would fit the lock.
Having opened, I emptied the whole contents into my apron, and took them with
me to examine at leisure in my own chamber. Though I could not but suspect, I
was still surprised to discover that they were a mass of correspondence --
daily, almost, it must have been -- from Linton Heathcliff, answers to
documents forwarded by her. The earlier dated were embarrassed and short;
gradually, however, they expanded into copious love-letters, foolish, as the
age of the writer rendered natural, yet with touches here and there which I
thought were borrowed from a more experienced source. Some of them struck me as
singularly odd compounds of ardour and flatness, commencing in strong feeling,
and concluding in the affected, wordy style that a schoolboy might use to a
fancied, incorporeal sweetheart. Whether they satisfied Cathy I don't know, but
they appeared very worthless trash to me. After turning over as many as I
thought proper, I tied them in a handkerchief and set them aside, relocking the
vacant drawer.
Following her habit, my
young lady descended early, and visited the kitchen. I watched her go to the
door on the arrival of a certain little boy, and while the dairy- maid filled his
can, she tucked something into his jacket pocket, and plucked something out. I
went round by the garden and laid wait for the messenger, who fought valorously
to defend his trust, and we spilt the milk between us; but I succeeded in
abstracting the epistle, and threatening serious consequences if he did not
look sharp home, I remained under the wall and perused Miss Cathy's
affectionate composition. It was more simple and more eloquent than her
cousin's -- very pretty and very silly. I shook my head, and went meditating
into the house. The day being wet, she could not divert herself with rambling
about the park, so, at the conclusion of her morning studies, she resorted to
the solace of the drawer. Her father sat reading at the table, and I, on
purpose, had sought a bit of work in some unripped fringes of the window
curtain, keeping my eye steadily fixed on her proceedings. Never did any bird
flying back to a plundered nest which it had left brimful of chirping young
ones express more complete despair in its anguished cries and flutterings than
she by her single "Oh!" and the change that transfigured her late
happy countenance. Mr. Linton looked up.
"What is the
matter, love? Have you hurt yourself?" he said.
His tone and look
assured her he had not been the discoverer of the hoard.
"No, papa,"
she gasped -- "Ellen! Ellen! come upstairs! I'm sick!"
I obeyed her summons,
and accompanied her out.
"O Ellen, you have
got them!" she commenced immediately, dropping on her knees, when we were
enclosed alone. "Oh, give them to me, and I'll never, never do so again!
Don't tell papa. You have not told papa, Ellen? Say you have not. I've been
exceedingly naughty, but I won't do it any more!"
With a grave severity
in my manner I bade her stand up.
"So," I exclaimed,
"Miss Catherine, you are tolerably far on, it seems; you may well be
ashamed of them. A fine bundle of trash you study in your leisure hours, to be
sure. Why, it's good enough to be printed. And what do you suppose the master
will think when I display it before him? I haven't shown it yet, but you
needn't imagine I shall keep your ridiculous secrets. For shame! And you must
have led the way in writing such absurdities. He would not have thought of
beginning, I'm certain."
"I didn't! I
didn't!" sobbed Cathy, fit to break her heart. "I didn't once think
of loving him till ---- "
"Loving!"
cried I, as scornfully as I could utter the word. "Loving! Did anybody
ever hear the like? I might just as well talk of loving the miller who comes
once a year to buy our corn. Pretty loving, indeed! And both times together you
have seen Linton hardly four hours in your life! Now here is the babyish trash.
I'm going with it to the library, and we'll see what your father says to such
loving."
She sprang at her precious
epistles, but I held them above my head; and then she poured out further
frantic entreaties that I would burn them -- do anything rather than show them.
And being really fully as much inclined to laugh as scold -- for I esteemed it
all girlish vanity -- I at length relented in a measure, and asked, --
"If I consent to
burn them, will you promise faithfully neither to send nor receive a letter
again, nor a book (for I perceive you have sent him books), nor locks of hair,
nor rings, nor playthings?"
"We don't send
playthings!" cried Catherine, her pride overcoming her shame.
"Nor anything at
all then, my lady," I said. "Unless you will, here I go."
"I promise,
Ellen!" she cried, catching my dress.
"Oh, put them in
the fire! -- do, do!" But when I proceeded to open a place with the poker
the sacrifice was too painful to be borne. She earnestly supplicated that I
would spare her one or two.
"One or two,
Ellen, to keep for Linton's sake!" I unknotted the handkerchief, and
commenced dropping them in from an angle, and the flame curled up the chimney.
"I will have one,
you cruel wretch," she screamed, darting her hand into the fire and
drawing forth some half-consumed fragments, at the expense of her fingers.
"Very well; and I
will have some to exhibit to papa!" I answered, shaking back the rest into
the bundle, and turning anew to the door.
She emptied her
blackened pieces into the flames, and motioned me to finish the immolation. It
was done. I stirred up the ashes, and interred them under a shovelful of coals;
and she mutely, and with a sense of intense injury, retired to her private
apartment. I descended to tell my master that the young lady's qualm of
sickness was almost gone, but I judged it best for her to lie down a while. She
wouldn't dine; but she reappeared at tea, pale and red about the eyes, and
marvellously subdued in outward aspect. Next morning I answered the letter by a
slip of paper inscribed, "Master Heathcliff is requested to send no more
notes to Miss Linton, as she will not receive them." And thenceforth the
little boy came with vacant pockets.
Summer drew to an end,
and early Autumn -- it was past Michaelmas, but the harvest was late that year,
and a few of our fields were still uncleared.
Mr. Linton and his
daughter would frequently walk out among the reapers: at the carrying of the
last sheaves, they stayed till dusk, and the evening happening to be chill and
damp, my master caught a bad cold that, settling obstinately on his lungs,
confined him indoors throughout the whole of the winter, nearly without
intermission.
Poor Cathy, frightened
from her little romance, had been considerably sadder and duller since its
abandonment: and her father insisted on her reading less, and taking more
exercise. She had his companionship no longer; I esteemed it a duty to supply
its lack, as much as possible, with mine; an inefficient substitute, for I
could only spare two or three hours, from my numerous diurnal occupations, to
follow her footsteps, and then, my society was obviously less desirable than
his.
On an afternoon in
October, or the beginning of November, a fresh watery afternoon, when the turf
and paths were rustling with moist, withered leaves, and the cold, blue sky was
half hidden by clouds -- dark grey streamers, rapidly mounting from the west,
and boding abundant rain -- I requested my young lady to forego her ramble
because I was certain of showers. She refused; and I unwillingly donned a
cloak, and took my umbrella to accompany her on a stroll to the bottom of the
park; a formal walk which she generally affected if low-spirited -- and that
she invariably was when Mr. Edgar had been worse than ordinary; a thing never
known from his confession, but guessed both by her and me from his increased
silence, and the melancholy of his countenance.
She went sadly on;
there was no running or bounding now, though the chill wind might well have
tempted her to race. And often, from the side of my eye, I could detect her
raising a hand and brushing something off her cheeks. I gazed round for a means
of diverting her thoughts. On one side of the road rose a high, rough bank,
where hazels and stunted oaks, with their roots half exposed, held uncertain
tenure. The soil was too loose for the latter, and strong winds had blown some
nearly horizontal. In summer Miss Catherine delighted to climb along these
trunks, and sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet above the ground; and I,
pleased with her agility and her light, childish heart, still considered it
proper to scold every time I caught her at such an elevation, but so that she
knew there was no necessity for descending. From dinner to tea she would lie in
her breeze-rocked cradle, doing nothing except singing old songs -- my nursery
lore -- to herself, or watching the birds, joint tenants, feed and entice their
young ones to fly; or nestling with closed lids, half thinking, half dreaming,
happier than words can express.
"Look, miss!"
I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of one twisted tree;
"winter is not here yet. There's a little flower up yonder -- the last bud
from the multitude of bluebells that clouded those turf steps in July with a
lilac mist. Will you clamber up and pluck it to show to papa?"
Cathy stared a long
time at the lonely blossom trembling in its earthy shelter, and replied at
length, --
"No, I'll not
touch it. But it looks melancholy, does it not, Ellen?"
"Yes," I
observed -- "about as starved and sackless as you. Your cheeks are
bloodless. Let us take hold of hands and run. You're so low I dare say I shall
keep up with you."
"No," she
repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing at intervals to muse over a bit
of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or a fungus spreading its bright orange
among the heaps of brown foliage; and ever and anon her hand was lifted to her
averted face.
"Catherine, why
are you crying, love?" I asked, approaching and putting my arm over her
shoulder. "You mustn't cry because papa has a cold. Be thankful it is
nothing worse."
She now put no further
restraint on her tears; her breath was stifled by sobs.
"Oh, it will be
something worse!" she said. "And what shall I do when papa and you
leave me, and I am by myself? I can't forget your words, Ellen; they are always
in my ear. How life will be changed, how dreary the world will be, when papa
and you are dead!"
"None can tell
whether you won't die before us," I replied. "It's wrong to
anticipate evil. We'll hope there are years and years to come before any of us
go. Master is young, and I am strong and hardly forty-five. My mother lived
till eighty, a canty dame to the last. And suppose Mr. Linton were spared till
he saw sixty, that would be more years than you have counted, miss. And would
it not be foolish to mourn a calamity above twenty years beforehand?"
"But Aunt Isabella
was younger than papa," she remarked, gazing up with timid hope to seek
further consolation.
"Aunt Isabella had
not you and me to nurse her," I replied. "She wasn't as happy as
master; she hadn't as much to live for. All you need do is to wait well on your
father, and cheer him by letting him see you cheerful, and avoid giving him
anxiety on any subject. Mind that, Cathy. I'll not disguise but you might kill
him if you were wild and reckless, and cherished a foolish, fanciful affection
for the son of a person who would be glad to have him in his grave, and allowed
him to discover that you fretted over the separation he has judged it expedient
to make."
"I fret about
nothing on earth except papa's illness," answered my companion. "I
care for nothing in comparison with papa. And I'll never -- never -- oh, never,
while I have my senses, do an act or say a word to vex him. I love him better
than myself, Ellen, and I know it by this: I pray every night that I may live
after him, because I would rather be miserable than that he should be. That
proves I love him better than myself."
"Good words,"
I replied. "But deeds must prove it also. And after he is well, remember
you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear."
As we talked, we neared
a door that opened on the road; and my young lady, lightening into sunshine
again, climbed up and seated herself on the top of the wall, reaching over to
gather some hips that bloomed scarlet on the summit branches of the wild rose
trees shadowing the highway side. The lower fruit had disappeared, but only
birds could touch the upper, except from Cathy's present station. In stretching
to pull them, her hat fell off, and as the door was locked she proposed
scrambling down to recover it. I bade her be cautious lest she got a fall, and
she nimbly disappeared. But the return was no such easy matter. The stones were
smooth and neatly cemented, and the rose bushes and blackberry stragglers could
yield no assistance in reascending. I, like a fool, didn't recollect that till
I heard her laughing and exclaiming, --
"Ellen, you'll
have to fetch the key, or else I must run round to the porter's lodge. I can't
scale the ramparts on this side."
"Stay where you
are," I answered. "I have my bundle of keys in my pocket. Perhaps I
may manage to open it; if not, I'll go." Catherine amused herself with
dancing to and fro before the door, while I tried all the large keys in
succession. I had applied the last, and found that none would do. So, repeating
my desire that she would remain there, I was about to hurry home as fast as I
could, when an approaching sound arrested me. It was the trot of a horse.
Cathy's dance stopped also.
"Who is
that?" I whispered.
"Ellen, I wish you
could open the door," whispered back my companion anxiously.
"Ho, Miss
Linton!" cried a deep voice (the rider's);
"I'm glad to meet
you. Don't be in haste to enter, for I have an explanation to ask and
obtain."
"I shan't speak to
you, Mr. Heathcliff," answered Catherine. "Papa says you are a wicked
man, and you hate both him and me; and Ellen says the same."
"That is nothing
to the purpose," said Heathcliff. (He it was.) "I don't hate my son,
I suppose, and it is concerning him that I demand your attention. Yes, you have
cause to blush. Two or three months since were you not in the habit of writing
to Linton -- making love in play, eh? You deserved, both of you, flogging for
that -- you especially, the elder, and less sensitive, as it turns out. I've
got your letters, and if you give me any pertness I'll send them to your
father. I presume you grew weary of the amusement and dropped it, didn't you?
Well, you dropped Linton with it into a Slough of Despond. He was in earnest --
in love, really. As true as I live, he's dying for you, breaking his heart at
your fickleness -- not figuratively, but actually. Though Hareton has made him
a standing jest for six weeks, and I have used more serious measures, and
attempted to frighten him out of his idiocy, he gets worse daily; and he'll be
under the sod before summer unless you restore him!"
"How can you lie
so glaringly to the poor child?" I called from the inside. "Pray ride
on! How can you deliberately get up such paltry falsehoods? -- Miss Cathy, I'll
knock the lock off with a stone. You won't believe that vile nonsense. You can
feel in yourself it is impossible that a person should die for love of a
stranger."
"I was not aware
there were eavesdroppers," mut- tered the detected villain. "Worthy
Mrs. Dean, I like you, but I don't like your double-dealing," he added
aloud. "How could you lie so glaringly as to affirm I hated the 'poor
child,' and invent bugbear stories to terrify her from my door-stones?
Catherine Linton (the very name warms me), my bonny lass, I shall be from home
all this week; go and see if I have not spoken truth; do -- there's a darling!
Just imagine your father in my place, and Linton in yours; then think how you
would value your careless lover if he refused to stir a step to comfort you
when your father himself entreated him; and don't, from pure stupidity, fall
into the same error. I swear, on my salvation, he's going to his grave, and
none but you can save him!"
The lock gave way, and
I issued out.
"I swear Linton is
dying," repeated Heathcliff, looking hard at me. "And grief and
disappointment are hastening his death. Nelly, if you won't let her go, you can
walk over yourself. But I shall not return till this time next week; and I
think your master himself would scarcely object to her visiting her
cousin."
"Come in,"
said I, taking Cathy by the arm and half forcing her to re-enter; for she lingered,
viewing with troubled eyes the features of the speaker, too stern to express
his inward deceit.
He pushed his horse
close, and bending down, observed, --
"Miss Catherine,
I'll own to you that I have little patience with Linton; and Hareton and Joseph
have less. I'll own that he's with a harsh set. He pines for kindness as well
as love, and a kind word from you would be his best medicine. Don't mind Mrs.
Dean's cruel cautions, but be generous, and contrive to see him. He dreams of
you day and night, and cannot be persuaded that you don't hate him, since you
neither write nor call."
I closed the door and
rolled a stone to assist the loosened lock in holding it, and spreading my
umbrella, I drew my charge underneath, for the rain began to drive through the
moaning branches of the trees, and warned us to avoid delay. Our hurry
prevented any comment on the encounter with Heathcliff as we stretched towards
home, but I divined instinctively that Catherine's heart was clouded now in
double darkness. Her features were so sad they did not seem hers. She evidently
regarded what she had heard as every syllable true.
The master had retired
to rest before we came in. Cathy stole to his room to inquire how he was; he
had fallen asleep. She returned, and asked me to sit with her in the library.
We took our tea together, and afterwards she lay down on the rug, and told me
not to talk, for she was weary. I got a book, and pretended to read. As soon as
she supposed me absorbed in my occupation she recommenced her silent weeping;
it appeared, at present, her favourite diversion. I suffered her to enjoy it a
while, then I expostulated, deriding and ridiculing all Mr. Heathcliff's
assertions about his son, as if I were certain she would coincide. Alas! I
hadn't skill to counteract the effect his account had produced; it was just
what he intended.
"You may be right,
Ellen," she answered, "but I shall never feel at ease till I know.
And I must tell Linton it is not my fault that I don't write, and convince him
that I shall not change."
What use were anger and
protestations against her silly credulity? We parted that night hostile, but
next day beheld me on the road to Wuthering Heights by the side of my wilful
young mistress's pony. I couldn't bear to witness her sorrow, to see her pale
dejected countenance and heavy eyes; and I yielded, in the faint hope that
Linton himself might prove, by his reception of us, how little of the tale was
founded on fact.
The rainy night had
ushered in a misty morning -- half frost, half drizzle -- and temporary brooks
crossed our path, gurgling from the uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted; I
was cross and low, exactly the humour suited for making the most of these
disagreeable things.
We entered the
farm-house by the kitchen way to ascertain whether Mr. Heathcliff were really
absent; because I put slight faith in his own affirmation.
Joseph seemed sitting
in a sort of elysium alone, beside a roaring fire; a quart of ale on the table
near him, bristling with large pieces of toasted oat cake; and his black, short
pipe in his mouth.
Catherine ran to the
hearth to warm herself. I asked if the master were in?
My question remained so
long unanswered, that I thought the old man had grown deaf, and repeated it
louder.
"Na -- ay!"
he snarled, or rather screamed through his nose. "Na -- ay! yah muh goa
back whear yah coom frough."
"Joseph,"
cried a peevish voice, simultaneously with me, from the inner room. "How
often am I to call you ? There are only a few red ashes now. Joseph! come this
moment."
Vigorous puffs, and a
resolute stare into the grate, declared he had no ear for this appeal. The
housekeeper and Hareton were invisible; one gone on an errand, and the other at
his work, probably. We knew Linton's tones and entered.
"Oh, I hope you'll
die in a garret ! starved to death," said the boy, mistaking our approach
for that of his negligent attendant.
He stopped, on
observing his error; his cousin flew to him.
"Is that you, Miss
Linton ?" he said, raising his head from the arm of the great chair in
which he reclined.
"No, don't kiss
me; it takes my breath. Dear me! Papa said you would call," continued he,
after recovering a little from Catherine's embrace, while she stood by looking
very contrite. "Will you shut the door, if you please? You left it open;
and those -- those detestable creatures won't bring coals to the fire. It's so
cold!"
I stirred up the
cinders, and fetched a scuttleful myself. The invalid complained of being
covered with ashes; but he had a tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill,
so I did not rebuke his temper.
"Well,
Linton," murmured Catherine, when his corrugated brow relaxed, "are
you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?"
"Why didn't you
come before?" he asked. "You should have come, instead of writing. It
tired me dreadfully writing those long letters. I'd far rather have talked to
you. Now, I can neither bear to talk nor anything else. I wonder where Zillah
is! Will you" -- looking at me -- "step into the kitchen and
see?"
I had received no
thanks for my other service, and being unwilling to run to and fro at his
behest, I replied, --
"Nobody is out
there but Joseph."
"I want to
drink," he exclaimed fretfully, turning away. "Zillah is constantly
gadding off to Gimmerton since papa went; it's miserable! And I'm obliged to
come down here; they resolved never to hear me up- stairs."
"Is your father
attentive to you, Master Heathcliff?" I asked, perceiving Catherine to be checked
in her friendly advances.
"Attentive? He
makes them a little more attentive at least," he cried. "The
wretches! Do you know, Miss Linton, that brute Hareton laughs at me! I hate
him! Indeed, I hate them all! They are odious beings."
Cathy began searching
for some water; she lighted on a pitcher in the dresser, filled a tumbler, and
brought it. He bade her add a spoonful of wine from a bottle on the table; and
having swallowed a small portion, appeared more tranquil, and said she was very
kind.
"And are you glad
to see me?" asked she, reiterating her former question, and pleased to
detect the faint dawn of a smile.
"Yes, I am. It's
something new to hear a voice like yours!" he replied. "But I have
been vexed because you wouldn't come. And papa swore it was owing to me. He
called me a pitiful, shuffling, worthless thing, and said you despised me, and
if he had been in my place he would be more the master of the Grange than your
father by this time. But you don't despise me, do you, Miss -----"
"I wish you would
say Catherine, or Cathy," interrupted my young lady. "Despise you?
No! Next to papa and Ellen, I love you better than anybody living. I don't love
Mr. Heathcliff, though, and I dare not come when he returns. Will he stay away
many days?"
"Not many,"
answered Linton; "but he goes on to the moors frequently since the
shooting season commenced, and you might spend an hour or two with me in his
absence. Do say you will. I think I should not be peevish with you. You'd not
provoke me, and you'd always be ready to help me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," said
Catherine, stroking his long soft hair. "If I could only get papa's
consent I'd spend half my time with you. Pretty Linton! I wish you were my
brother."
"And then you
would like me as well as your father?" observed he more cheerfully.
"But papa says you would love me better than him and all the world if you
were my wife; so I'd rather you were that."
"No, I should
never love anybody better than papa," she returned gravely. "And
people hate their wives sometimes, but not their sisters and brothers; and if
you were the latter you would live with us, and papa would be as fond of you as
he is of me."
Linton denied that
people ever hated their wives, but Cathy affirmed they did, and in her wisdom instanced
his own father's aversion to her aunt. I endeavoured to stop her thoughtless
tongue. I couldn't succeed till everything she knew was out. Master Heathcliff,
much irritated, asserted her relation was false.
"Papa told me, and
papa does not tell falsehoods," she answered pertly.
"My papa scorns
yours!" cried Linton. "He calls him a sneaking fool."
"Yours is a wicked
man," retorted Catherine, "and you are very naughty to dare to repeat
what he says. He must be wicked to have made Aunt Isabella leave him as she
did."
"She didn't leave
him," said the boy. "You shan't contradict me."
"She did,"
cried my young lady.
"Well, I'll tell
you something," said Linton. "Your mother hated your father. Now
then."
"Oh!"
exclaimed Catherine, too enraged to continue.
"And she loved
mine," added he.
"You little liar!
I hate you now!" she panted, and her face grew red with passion.
"She did! she
did!" sang Linton, sinking into the recess of his chair, and leaning back
his head to enjoy the agitation of the other disputant, who stood behind.
"Hush, Master
Heathcliff!" I said. "That's your father's tale too, I suppose."
"It isn't. You
hold your tongue!" he answered. --
"She did! she did,
Catherine! She did! she did!" Cathy, beside herself, gave the chair a
violent push, and caused him to fall against one arm. He was immediately seized
by a suffocating cough that soon ended his triumph. It lasted so long that it
frightened even me. As to his cousin, she wept with all her might, aghast at
the mischief she had done, though she said nothing. I held him till the fit
exhausted itself. Then he thrust me away, and leant his head down silently.
Catherine quelled her lamentations also, took a seat opposite, and looked
solemnly into the fire.
"How do you feel
now, Master Heathcliff?" I inquired, after waiting ten minutes.
"I wish she felt
as I do," he replied -- "spiteful, cruel thing! Hareton never touches
me; he never struck me in his life. And I was better to-day; and there ----
" His voice died in a whimper.
"I didn't strike
you!" muttered Cathy, chewing her lip to prevent another burst of emotion.
He sighed and moaned
like one under great suffering, and kept it up for a quarter of an hour, on
purpose to distress his cousin, apparently, for whenever he caught a stifled
sob from her he put renewed pain and pathos into the inflections of his voice.
"I'm sorry I hurt
you, Linton," she said at length, racked beyond endurance. "But I
couldn't have been hurt by that little push, and I had no idea that you could
either. You're not much, are you, Linton? Don't let me go home thinking I've
done you harm. Answer! Speak to me!"
"I can't speak to
you," he murmured. "You've hurt me so that I shall lie awake all
night choking with this cough. If you had it you'd know what it was; but you'll
be comfortably asleep while I'm in agony, and nobody near me. I wonder how you
would like to pass those fearful nights." And he began to wail aloud, for
very pity of himself.
"Since you are in
the habit of passing dreadful nights," I said, "it won't be miss who
spoils your ease; you'd be the same had she never come. However, she shall not
disturb you again; and perhaps you'll get quieter when we leave you."
"Must I go?"
asked Catherine dolefully, bending over him. "Do you want me to go,
Linton?"
"You can't alter
what you've done," he replied pettishly, shrinking from her, "unless
you alter it for the worse by teasing me into a fever."
"Well, then, I
must go?" she repeated.
"Let me alone, at
least," said he. "I can't bear your talking."
She lingered, and
resisted my persuasions to departure a tiresome while; but as he neither looked
up nor spoke, she finally made a movement to the door, and I followed. We were
recalled by a scream. Linton had slid from his seat on to the hearth-stone, and
lay writhing in the mere perverseness of an indulged plague of a child,
determined to be as grievous and harassing as it can.
I thoroughly gauged his
disposition from his behaviour, and saw at once it would be folly to attempt
humouring him. Not so my companion. She ran back in terror, knelt down, and
cried, and soothed, and entreated, till he grew quiet from lack of breath, by
no means from compunction at distressing her.
"I shall lift him
on to the settle," I said, "and he may roll about as he pleases. We
can't stop to watch him. I hope you are satisfied, Miss Cathy, that you are not
the person to benefit him, and that his condition of health is not occasioned
by attachment to you. Now, then, there he is! Come away. As soon as he knows
there is nobody by to care for his nonsense, he'll be glad to lie still."
She placed a cushion
under his head, and offered him some water. He rejected the latter, and tossed
uneasily on the former, as if it were a stone or a block of wood. She tried to
put it more comfortably.
"I can't do with
that," he said; "it's not high enough."
Catherine brought
another to lay above it.
"That's too
high," murmured the provoking thing.
"How must I
arrange it, then?" she asked despairingly.
He twined himself up to
her, as she half knelt by the settle, and converted her shoulder into a
support.
"No, that won't
do," I said. "You'll be content with the cushion, Master Heathcliff.
Miss has wasted too much time on you already; we cannot remain five minutes
longer."
"Yes, yes; we
can!" replied Cathy. "He's good and patient now. He's beginning to
think I shall have far greater misery than he will to-night if I believe he is
the worse for my visit, and then I dare not come again. -- Tell the truth about
it, Linton; for I mustn't come if I have hurt you."
"You must come, to
cure me," he answered. "You ought to come, because you have hurt me;
you know you have extremely. I was not as ill when you entered as I am at
present -- was I?"
"But you've made
yourself ill by crying and being in a passion."
"I didn't do it
all," said his cousin. "However, we'll be friends now. And you want
me -- you would wish to see me sometimes, really?"
"I told you I
did," he replied impatiently. "Sit on the settle and let me lean on
your knee. That's as mamma used to do, whole afternoons together. Sit quite
still and don't talk; but you may sing a song, if you can sing, or you may say
a nice long interesting ballad -- one of those you promised to teach me -- or a
story. I'd rather have a ballad, though. Begin."
Catherine repeated the
longest she could remember. The employment pleased both mightily. Linton would
have another, and after that another, notwithstanding my strenuous objections;
and so they went on until the clock struck twelve, and we heard Hareton in the
court, returning for his dinner.
"And to-morrow,
Catherine -- will you be here tomorrow?" asked young Heathcliff, holding
her frock as she rose reluctantly.
"No," I
answered, "nor next day neither." She, however, gave a different
response evidently, for his forehead cleared as she stooped and whispered in
his ear.
"You won't go
to-morrow, recollect, miss," I commenced, when we were out of the house.
"You are not dreaming of it, are you?"
She smiled.
"Oh, I'll take
good care," I continued. "I'll have that lock mended, and you can
escape by no way else."
"I can get over
the wall," she said, laughing. "The Grange is not a prison, Ellen,
and you are not my gaoler. And besides, I'm almost seventeen; I'm a woman. And
I'm certain Linton would recover quickly if he had me to look after him. I'm
older than he is, you know, and wiser -- less childish, am I not? And he'll
soon do as I direct him, with some slight coaxing. He's a pretty little darling
when he's good. I'd make such a pet of him if he were mine. We should never
quarrel, should we, after we were used to each other? Don't you like him,
Ellen?"
"Like him!" I
exclaimed. "The worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled
into its teens. Happily, as Mr. Heathcliff conjectured, he'll not win twenty. I
doubt whether he'll see spring, indeed. And small loss to his family whenever
he drops off. And lucky it is for us that his father took him: the kinder he
was treated, the more tedious and selfish he'd be. I'm glad you have no chance
of having him for a husband, Miss Catherine."
My companion waxed
serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his death so regardlessly wounded
her feelings.
"He's younger than
I," she answered, after a protracted pause of meditation, "and he
ought to live the longest. He will -- he must live as long as I do. He's as
strong now as when he first came into the north; I'm positive of that. It's
only a cold that ails him -- the same as papa has. You say papa will get
better, and why shouldn't he?"
"Well, well,"
I cried, "after all we needn't trouble ourselves; for listen, miss -- and
mind I'll keep my word; if you attempt going to Wuthering Heights again, with
or without me, I shall inform Mr. Linton; and unless he allow it, the intimacy
with your cousin must not be revived."
"It has been
revived," muttered Cathy sulkily.
"Must not be
continued, then," I said.
"We'll see,"
was her reply; and she set off at a gallop, leaving me to toil in the rear.
We both reached home
before our dinner-time; my master supposed we had been wandering through the
park, and therefore he demanded no explanation of our absence. As soon as I
entered I hastened to change my soaked shoes and stockings, but sitting such a
while at the Heights had done the mischief. On the succeeding morning I was
laid up, and during three weeks I remained incapacitated for attending to my
duties -- a calamity never experienced prior to that period, and never, I am
thankful to say, since.
My little mistress
behaved like an angel in coming to wait on me and cheer my solitude. The
confinement brought me exceedingly low -- it is wearisome to a stirring, active
body; but few have slighter reasons for complaint than I had. The moment
Catherine left Mr. Linton's room she appeared at my bedside. Her day was divided
between us; no amusement usurped a minute. She neglected her meals, her
studies, and her play, and she was the fondest nurse that ever watched. She
must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so, to give so much to
me.
I said her days were
divided between us; but the master retired early, and I generally needed
nothing after six o'clock; thus the evening was her own.
Poor thing! I never
considered what she did with herself after tea. And though frequently, when she
looked in to bid me good-night, I remarked a fresh colour in her cheeks and a
pinkness over her slender fingers, instead of fancying the hue borrowed from a
cold ride across the moors, I laid it to the charge of a hot fire in the
library.
At the close of three
weeks, I was able to quit my chamber, and move about the house. And on the
first occasion of my sitting up in the evening, I asked Catherine to read to
me, because my eyes were weak. We were in the library, the master having gone
to bed: she consented, rather unwillingly, I fancied; and imagining my sort of
books did not suit her, I bid her please herself in the choice of what she
perused.
She selected one of her
own favourites, and got forward steadily about an hour; then came frequent
questions.
"Ellen, are not
you tired ? Hadn't you better lie down now ? You'll be sick, keeping up so
long, Ellen."
"No, no, dear, I'm
not tired," I returned, continually. Perceiving me immovable, she essayed
another method of showing her dis-relish for her occupation. It changed to
yawning, and stretching, and --
"Ellen, I'm
tired."
"Give over then
and talk," I answered.
That was worse; she
fretted and sighed, and looked at her watch till eight; and finally went to her
room, completely over-done with sleep, judging by her peevish, heavy look, and
the constant rubbing she inflicted on her eyes.
The following night she
seemed more impatient still; and on the third from recovering my company, she
complained of a head-ache, and left me.
I thought her conduct
odd; and having remained alone a long while, I resolved on going and inquiring
whether she were better, and asking her to come and lie on the sofa, instead of
upstairs, in the dark.
No Catherine could I
discover upstairs, and none below. The servants affirmed they had not seen her.
I listened at Mr. Edgar's door; all was silence. I returned to her apartment,
extinguished my candle, and seated myself in the window.
The moon shone bright;
a sprinkling of snow covered the ground, and I reflected that she might
possibly have taken it into her head to walk about the garden for refreshment.
I did detect a figure creeping along the inner fence of the park, but it was
not my young mistress. On its merging into the light I recognized one of the
grooms. He stood a considerable period, viewing the carriage-road through the
grounds, then started off at a brisk pace, as if he had detected something, and
reappeared presently leading miss's pony; and there she was, just dismounted,
and walking by its side. The man took his charge stealthily across the grass
towards the stable. Cathy entered by the casement window of the drawing-room,
and glided noiselessly up to where I awaited her. She put the door gently to,
slipped off her snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding, unconscious of
my espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I suddenly rose and revealed
myself. The surprise petrified her an instant; she uttered an inarticulate
exclamation, and stood fixed.
"My dear Miss
Catherine," I began, too vividly impressed by her recent kindness to break
into a scold, "where have you been riding out at this hour? And why should
you try to deceive me by telling a tale? Where have you been? Speak!"
"To the bottom of
the park," she stammered. "I didn't tell a tale."
"And nowhere
else?" I demanded.
"No," was the
muttered reply.
"O
Catherine!" I cried sorrowfully. "You know you have been doing wrong,
or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me. That does grieve me.
I'd rather be three months ill than hear you frame a deliberate lie."
She sprang forward, and
bursting into tears, threw her arms round my neck.
"Well, Ellen, I'm
so afraid of you being angry," she said. "Promise not to be angry,
and you shall know the very truth. I hate to hide it."
We sat down in the
window-seat. I assured her I would not scold, whatever her secret might be, and
I guessed it, of course; so she commenced, --
"I've been to
Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I've never missed going a day since you fell ill,
except thrice before and twice after you left your room. I gave Michael books
and pictures to prepare Minny every evening, and to put her back in the stable.
You mustn't scold him either, mind. I was at the Heights by half- past six, and
generally stayed till half-past eight, and then galloped home. It was not to
amuse myself that I went; I was often wretched all the time. Now and then I was
happy -- once in a week perhaps. At first I expected there would be sad work
persuading you to let me keep my word to Linton, for I had engaged to call
again next day when we quitted him; but as you stayed upstairs on the morrow, I
escaped that trouble. While Michael was refastening the lock of the park door
in the afternoon, I got possession of the key, and told him how my cousin
wished me to visit him, because he was sick and couldn't come to the Grange,
and how papa would object to my going; and then I negotiated with him about the
pony. He is fond of reading, and he thinks of leaving soon to get married; so
he offered, if I would lend him books out of the library, to do what I wished;
but I preferred giving him my own, and that satisfied him better.
"On my second
visit Linton seemed in lively spirits, and Zillah (that is their housekeeper)
made us a clean room and a good fire, and told us that, as Joseph was out at a
prayer-meeting, and Hareton Earnshaw was off with his dogs -- robbing our woods
of pheasants, as I heard afterwards -- we might do what we liked. She brought
me some warm wine and gingerbread, and appeared exceedingly good-natured; and
Linton sat in the arm-chair, and I in the little rocking-chair on the
hearth-stone, and we laughed and talked so merrily, and found so much to say.
We planned where we would go, and what we would do in summer. I needn't repeat
that, because you would call it silly.
"One time,
however, we were near quarrelling. He said the pleasantest manner of spending a
hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bank of heath in the
middle of the moors, with the bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, and
the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining
steadily and cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness.
Mine was rocking in a rustling green tree, with a west wind blowing, and bright
white clouds flitting rapidly above, and not only larks, but throstles, and
blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring out music on every side, and the
moors seen at a distance, broken into cool, dusky dells, but close by great
swells of long grass undulating in waves to the breeze, and woods and sounding
water, and the whole world awake and wild with joy. He wanted all to lie in an
ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I
said his heaven would be only half alive, and he said mine would be drunk; I
said I should fall asleep in his, and he said he could not breathe in mine, and
began to grow very snappish. At last we agreed to try both, as soon as the
right weather came; and then we kissed each other and were friends.
"After sitting
still an hour, I looked at the great room with its smooth uncarpeted floor, and
thought how nice it would be to play in if we removed the table; and I asked
Linton to call Zillah in to help us, and we'd have a game at blind-man's buff.
She should try to catch us; you used to, you know, Ellen. He wouldn't. There
was no pleasure in it, he said. But he consented to play at ball with me. We
found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops, and hoops, and
battledores, and shuttlecocks. One was marked C. and the other H. I wished to
have the C., because that stood for Catherine, and the H. might be for
Heathcliff, his name; but the bran came out of H., and Linton didn't like it. I
beat him constantly, and he got cross again, and coughed, and returned to his
chair. That night, though, he easily recovered his good-humour. He was charmed
with two or three pretty songs -- your songs, Ellen; and when I was obliged to
go he begged and entreated me to come the following evening, and I promised.
Minny and I went flying home as light as air, and I dreamt of Wuthering Heights
and my sweet darling cousin till morning.
"On the morrow I
was sad, partly because you were poorly, and partly that I wished my father
knew and approved of my excursions; but it was beautiful moon- light after tea,
and as I rode on the gloom cleared. I shall have another happy evening, I
thought to myself; and, what delights me more, my pretty Linton will. I trotted
up their garden, and was turning round to the back, when that fellow Earnshaw
met me, took my bridle, and bade me go in by the front entrance. He patted
Minny's neck, and said she was a bonny beast, and appeared as if he wanted me
to speak to him. I only told him to leave my horse alone, or else it would kick
him. He answered in his vulgar accent, 'It wouldn't do mitch hurt if it did,'
and surveyed its legs with a smile. I was half inclined to make it try;
however, he moved off to open the door, and as he raised the latch he looked up
to the inscription above, and said, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and
elation, --
" 'Miss Catherine,
I can read yon now.'
" 'Wonderful!' I
exclaimed. 'Pray let us hear you; you are grown clever.'
"He spelt, and
drawled over by syllables, the name, 'Hareton Earnshaw.'
" 'And the
figures?' I cried encouragingly, perceiving that he came to a dead halt.
" 'I cannot tell
them yet,' he answered.
" 'Oh, you dunce!'
I said, laughing heartily at his failure.
"The fool stared,
with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes, as if
uncertain whether he might not join in my mirth -- whether it were not pleasant
familiarity, or what it really was, contempt. I settled his doubts by suddenly
retrieving my gravity and desiring him to walk away, for I came to see Linton,
not him. He reddened -- I saw that by the moonlight -- dropped his hand from
the latch, and skulked off, a picture of mortified vanity. He imagined himself
to be as accomplished as Linton, I suppose, because he could spell his own
name, and was marvellously discomfited that I didn't think the same."
"Stop, Miss
Catherine dear!" I interrupted. "I shall not scold, but I don't like
your conduct there. If you had remembered that Hareton was your cousin as much
as Master Heathcliff, you would have felt how improper it was to behave in that
way. At least, it was praiseworthy ambition for him to desire to be as
accomplished as Linton, and probably he did not learn merely to show off. You
had made him ashamed of his ignorance before, I have no doubt, and he wished to
remedy it and please you. To sneer at his imperfect attempt was very bad
breeding. Had you been brought up in his circumstances, would you be less rude?
He was as quick and as intelligent a child as ever you were, and I'm hurt that
he should be despised now, because that base Heathcliff has treated him so
unjustly."
"Well, Ellen, you
won't cry about it, will you?" she exclaimed, surprised at my earnestness.
"But wait, and you shall hear if he conned his A B C to please me, and if
it were worth while being civil to the brute. I entered. Linton was lying on
the settle, and half got up to welcome me.
" 'I'm ill
to-night, Catherine, love,' he said; 'and you must have all the talk, and let
me listen. Come and sit by me. I was sure you wouldn't break your word, and
I'll make you promise again before you go.'
"I knew now that I
mustn't tease him, as he was ill; and I spoke softly, and put no questions, and
avoided irritating him in any way. I had brought some of my nicest books for
him. He asked me to read a little of one, and I was about to comply, when
Earnshaw burst the door open, having gathered venom with reflection. He
advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm, and swung him off the seat.
" 'Get to thy own
room!' he said, in a voice almost inarticulate with passion; and his face
looked swelled and furious. 'Take her there if she comes to see thee; thou
shalln't keep me out of this. Begone wi' ye both!'
"He swore at us,
and left Linton no time to answer, nearly throwing him into the kitchen; and he
clenched his fist as I followed, seemingly longing to knock me down. I was
afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall; he kicked it after me, and shut
us out. I heard a malignant, crackly laugh by the fire, and turning, beheld
that odious Joseph standing rubbing his bony hands, and quivering.
" 'I wer sure he'd
sarve ye out! He's a grand lad! He's getten t' raight sperrit in him! He knaws
-- ay, he knaws as weel as I do -- who sud be t' maister yonder! Ech, ech, ech!
He made ye skift properly! Ech, ech, ech!'
" 'Where must we
go?' I asked of my cousin, disregarding the old wretch's mockery.
"Linton was white
and trembling. He was not pretty then, Ellen -- oh no! He looked frightful, for
his thin face and large eyes were wrought into an expression of frantic,
powerless fury. He grasped the handle of the door, and shook it; it was
fastened inside.
" 'If you don't
let me in I'll kill you! if you don't let me in I'll kill you!' he rather
shrieked than said. 'Devil! devil! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!'
"Joseph uttered
his croaking laugh again.
" 'Thear, that's
t' father!' he cried. 'That's father! We've allas summut o' either side in us.
Niver heed, Hareton, lad -- dunnut be 'feared -- he cannot get at thee!'
"I took hold of
Linton's hands and tried to pull him away, but he shrieked so shockingly that I
dared not proceed. At last his cries were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing.
Blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell on the ground.
I ran into the yard,
sick with terror, and called for Zillah as loud as I could. She soon heard me.
She was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn, and hurrying from her work
she inquired what there was to do. I hadn't breath to explain. Dragging her in,
I looked about for Linton. Earnshaw had come out to examine the mischief he had
caused, and he was then conveying the poor thing upstairs. Zillah and I
ascended after him; but he stopped me at the top of the steps, and said I
shouldn't go in -- I must go home. I exclaimed that he had killed Linton, and I
would enter. Joseph locked the door, and declared I should do 'no sich stuff,'
and asked me whether I were 'bahn to be as mad as him.' I stood crying till the
housekeeper reappeared. She affirmed he would be better in a bit, but he
couldn't do with that shrieking and din; and she took me and nearly carried me
into the house.
"Ellen, I was
ready to tear my hair off my head. I sobbed and wept so that my eyes were
almost blind; and the ruffian you have such sympathy with stood opposite,
presuming every now and then to bid me 'wisht,' and denying that it was his
fault; and finally, frightened by my assertions that I would tell papa, and
that he should be put in prison and hanged, he commenced blubbering himself,
and hurried out to hide his cowardly agitation. Still I was not rid of him.
When at length they compelled me to depart, and I had got some hundred yards
off the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow of the roadside, and
checked Minny and took hold of me.
" 'Miss Catherine,
I'm ill grieved,' he began, 'but it's rayther too bad ---- '
"I gave him a cut
with my whip, thinking perhaps he would murder me. He let go, thundering one of
his horrid curses, and I galloped home more than half out of my senses.
"I didn't bid you
good-night that evening, and I didn't go to Wuthering Heights the next. I wished
to go exceedingly, but I was strangely excited, and dreaded to hear that Linton
was dead, sometimes, and sometimes shuddered at the thought of encountering
Hareton.
On the third day I took
courage -- at least I couldn't bear longer suspense, and stole off once more. I
went at five o'clock, and walked, fancying I might manage to creep into the
house and up to Linton's room unobserved. However, the dogs gave notice of my
approach. Zillah received me, and saying 'the lad was mending nicely,' showed me
into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to my inexpressible joy, I
beheld Linton laid on a little sofa, reading one of my books. But he would
neither speak to me nor look at me through a whole hour, Ellen; he has such an
unhappy temper. And what quite confounded me, when he did open his mouth it was
to utter the falsehood that I had occasioned the uproar, and Hareton was not to
blame! Unable to reply, except passionately, I got up and walked from the room.
He sent after me a faint 'Catherine!' He did not reckon on being answered so.
But I wouldn't turn back; and the morrow was the second day on which I stayed
at home, nearly determined to visit him no more. But it was so miserable going
to bed and getting up, and never hearing anything about him, that my resolution
melted into air before it was properly formed. It had appeared wrong to take
the journey once, now it seemed wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask if he
must saddle Minny; I said 'Yes,' and considered myself doing a duty as she bore
me over the hills. I was forced to pass the front windows to get to the court;
it was no use trying to conceal my presence.
" 'Young master is
in the house,' said Zillah, as she saw me making for the parlour. I went in.
Earnshaw was there also, but he quitted the room directly. Linton sat in the
great armchair half asleep. Walking up to the fire, I began in a serious tone,
partly meaning it to be true, --
" 'As you don't
like me, Linton, and as you think I come on purpose to hurt you, and pretend
that I do so every time, this is our last meeting. Let us say good-bye; and
tell Mr. Heathcliff that you have no wish to see me, and that he mustn't invent
any more falsehoods on the subject.'
" 'Sit down and
take your hat off, Catherine,' he answered. 'You are so much happier than I am,
you ought to be better. Papa talks enough of my defects and shows enough scorn
of me to make it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I am not
altogether as worthless as he calls me frequently; and then I feel so cross and
bitter, I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit,
almost always, and if you choose you may say good-bye; you'll get rid of an
annoyance. Only, Catherine, do me this justice: believe that if I might be as
sweet, and as kind, and as good as you are, I would be -- as willingly, and
more so, than as happy and as healthy. And believe that your kindness has made
me love you deeper than if I deserved your love; and though I couldn't and
cannot help showing my nature to you, I regret it and repent it, and shall
regret and repent it till I die!'
"I felt he spoke
the truth, and I felt I must forgive him; and though he should quarrel the next
moment, I must forgive him again. We were reconciled; but we cried, both of us,
the whole time I stayed -- not entirely for sorrow, yet I was sorry Linton had
that distorted nature. He'll never let his friends be at ease, and he'll never
be at ease himself. I have always gone to his little parlour since that night,
because his father returned the day after.
"About three
times, I think, we have been merry and hopeful, as we were the first evening;
the rest of my visits were dreary and troubled -- now with his selfishness and
spite, and now with his sufferings; but I've learned to endure the former with
nearly as little resentment as the latter. Mr. Heathcliff purposely avoids me;
I have hardly seen him at all. Last Sunday, indeed, coming earlier than usual,
I heard him abusing poor Linton cruelly for his conduct of the night before. I
can't tell how he knew of it, unless he listened. Linton had certainly behaved
provokingly. However, it was the business of nobody but me, and I interrupted
Mr. Heathcliff's lecture by entering and telling him so. He burst into a laugh,
and went away, saying he was glad I took that view of the matter. Since then
I've told Linton he must whisper his bitter things. Now, Ellen, you have heard
all. I can't be prevented from going to Wuthering Heights except by inflicting
misery on two people; whereas, if you'll only not tell papa, my going need
disturb the tranquillity of none. You'll not tell, will you? It will be very
heartless if you do."
"I'll make up my
mind on that point by to-morrow, Miss Catherine," I replied. "It
requires some study; and so I'll leave you to your rest, and go think it
over."
I thought it over
aloud, in my master's presence, walking straight from her room to his, and
relating the whole story, with the exception of her conversations with her
cousin, and any mention of Hareton. Mr. Linton was alarmed and distressed, more
than he would acknowledge to me. In the morning Catherine learned my betrayal
of her confidence, and she learned also that her secret visits were to end. In
vain she wept and writhed against the interdict, and implored her father to have
pity on Linton. All she got to comfort her was a promise that he would write
and give him leave to come to the Grange when he pleased, but explaining that
he must no longer expect to see Catherine at Wuthering Heights. Perhaps, had he
been aware of his nephew's disposition and state of health, he would have seen
fit to withhold even that slight consolation.
"These things
happened last winter, sir," said Mrs. Dean; "hardly more than a year
ago. Last winter, I did not think, at another twelve months' end, I should be
amusing a stranger to the family with relating them! Yet, who knows how long
you'll be a stranger ? You're too young to rest always contented, living by
yourself; and I some way fancy, no one could see Catherine Linton, and not love
her. You smile; but why do you look so lively and interested, when I talk about
her -- and why have you asked me to hang her picture over your fireplace? and
why -- "
"Stop, my good
friend !" I cried. "It may be very possible that I should love her;
but would she love me ? I doubt it too much to venture my tranquillity by
running into temptation; and then my home is not here. I'm of the busy world,
and to its arms I must return. Go on. Was Catherine obedient to her father's
commands ?"
"She was,"
continued the housekeeper. "Her affection for him was still the chief
sentiment in her heart; and he spoke without anger; he spoke in the deep
tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils and foes, where his
remembered words would be the only aid that he could bequeath to guide her.
He said to me, a few
days afterwards,
"I wish my nephew
would write, Ellen, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what you think of him -- is he
changed for the better, or is there a prospect of improvement, as he grows a man
?"
"He's very
delicate, sir," I replied; "and scarcely likely to reach manhood; but
this I can say, he does not resemble his father; and if Miss Catherine had the
misfortune to marry him, he would not be beyond her control, unless she were extremely
and foolishly indulgent. However, master, you'll have plenty of time to get
acquainted with him, and see whether he would suit her -- it wants four years
and more to his being of age."
Edgar sighed, and
walking to the window, looked out towards Gimmerton Kirk. It was a misty
afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly, and we could just distinguish the
two fir-trees in the yard, and the sparely scattered gravestones.
"I've prayed often,"
he half soliloquized, "for the approach of what is coming, and now I begin
to shrink and fear it. I thought the memory of the hour I came down that glen a
bridegroom would be less sweet than the anticipation that I was soon, in a few
months, or possibly weeks, to be carried up and laid in its lonely hollow.
Ellen, I've been very happy with my little Cathy; through winter nights and
summer days she was a living hope at my side. But I've been as happy musing by
myself among those stones, under that old church, lying through the long June
evenings on the green mound of her mother's grave, and wishing, yearning for
the time when I might lie beneath it. What can I do for Cathy? How must I quit
her? I'd not care one moment for Linton being Heathcliff's son, nor for his
taking her from me, if he could console her for my loss. I'd not care that
Heathcliff gained his ends, and triumphed in robbing me of my last blessing.
But should Linton be unworthy -- only a feeble tool to his father -- I cannot
abandon her to him. And, hard though it be to crush her buoyant spirit, I must
persevere in making her sad while I live, and leaving her solitary when I die.
Darling! I'd rather resign her to God, and lay her in the earth before
me."
"Resign her to God
as it is, sir," I answered; "and if we should lose you -- which may
He forbid -- under His providence I'll stand her friend and counsellor to the
last. Miss Catherine is a good girl; I don't fear that she will go wilfully
wrong; and people who do their duty are always finally rewarded."
Spring advanced, yet my
master gathered no real strength, though he resumed his walks in the grounds
with his daughter. To her inexperienced notions this itself was a sign of
convalescence. And then his cheek was often flushed, and his eyes were bright;
she felt sure of his recovery. On her seventeenth birthday he did not visit the
churchyard. It was raining, and I observed, --
"You'll surely not
go out to-night, sir?" He answered, --
"No, I'll defer it
this year a little longer."
He wrote again to
Linton, expressing his great desire to see him; and had the invalid been
presentable, I've no doubt his father would have permitted him to come. As it
was, being instructed, he returned an answer, intimating that Mr. Heathcliff
objected to his calling at the Grange; but his uncle's kind remembrance
delighted him, and he hoped to meet him sometimes in his rambles, and
personally to petition that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly
divided.
That part of his letter
was simple and probably his own. Heathcliff knew he could plead eloquently for
Catherine's company, then.
"I do not
ask," he said, "that she may visit here, but am I never to see her
because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you forbid her to come to
mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards the Heights, and let us exchange
a few words in your presence. We have done nothing to deserve this separation;
and you are not angry with me -- you have no reason to dislike me, you allow,
yourself. Dear uncle, send me a kind note to-morrow, and leave to join you
anywhere you please, except at Thrushcross Grange. I believe an interview would
convince you that my father's character is not mine. He affirms I am more your
nephew than his son; and though I have faults which render me unworthy of
Catherine, she has excused them, and for her sake you should also. You inquire
after my health. It is better; but while I remain cut off from all hope, and
doomed to solitude or the society of those who never did and never will like
me, how can I be cheerful and well?"
Edgar, though he felt
for the boy, could not consent to grant his request, because he could not
accompany Catherine. He said in summer perhaps they might meet. Meantime he
wished him to continue writing at intervals, and engaged to give him what
advice and comfort he was able by letter, being well aware of his hard position
in his family.
Linton complied, and
had he been unrestrained, would probably have spoiled all by filling his
epistles with complaints and lamentations; but his father kept a sharp watch
over him, and of course insisted on every line that my master sent being shown.
So, instead of penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses, the
themes constantly uppermost in his thoughts, he harped on the cruel obligation
of being held asunder from his friend and love, and gently intimated that Mr.
Linton must allow an interview soon, or he should fear he was purposely
deceiving him with empty promises.
Cathy was a powerful
ally at home, and between them they at length persuaded my master to acquiesce
in their having a ride or a walk together about once a week, under my
guardianship, and on the moors nearest the Grange -- for June found him still
declining. Though he had set aside yearly a portion of his income for my young
lady's fortune, he had a natural desire that she might retain -- or at least
return in a short time to -- the house of her ancestors; and he considered her
only prospect of doing that was by a union with his heir. He had no idea that
the latter was failing almost as fast as himself, nor had any one, I believe.
No doctor visited the Heights, and no one saw Master Heathcliff to make report
of his condition among us. I, for my part, began to fancy my forebodings were
false, and that he must be actually rallying, when he mentioned riding and
walking on the moors, and seemed so earnest in pursuing his object. I could not
picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and wickedly as I
afterwards learned Heathcliff had treated him, to compel this apparent
eagerness, his efforts redoubling the more imminently his avaricious and
unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat by death.
Summer was already past
its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent to their entreaties, and
Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join her cousin.
It was a close, sultry
day; devoid of sunshine, hut with a sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain;
and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide-stone, by the crossroads.
On arriving there, however, a little herd-boy, despatched as a messenger, told
us that --
"Maister Linton
wer just ut this side th' Heights: and he'd be mitch obleeged to us to gang on
a bit further."
"Then Master
Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle," I observed: "he
bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are, off at once."
"Well, we'll turn
our horses' heads round, when we reach him," answered my companion,
"our excursion shall lie towards home."
But when we reached
him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a mile from his own door, we found he
had no horse, and we were forced to dismount, and leave ours to graze.
He lay on the heath,
awaiting our approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then,
he walked so feebly, and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed --
"Why, Master
Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble, this morning. How ill you do
look!"
Catherine surveyed him
with grief and astonishment; and changed the ejaculation of joy on her lips, to
one of alarm; and the congratulation on their long postponed meeting to an
anxious inquiry, whether he were worse than usual ?
"No -- better --
better!" he panted, trembling, and retaining her hand as if he needed its
support, while his large blue eyes wandered timidly over her; the hollowness
round them transforming to haggard wildness the languid expression they once
possessed.
"But you have been
worse," persisted his cousin --
"worse than when I
saw you last. You are thinner, and ---- "
"I'm tired,"
he interrupted hurriedly. "It is too hot for walking; let us rest here.
And in the morning I often feel sick. Papa says I grow so fast."
Badly satisfied, Cathy
sat down, and he reclined beside her.
"This is something
like your paradise," said she, making an effort at cheerfulness. "You
recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the place and way each thought
pleasantest? This is nearly yours, only there are clouds; but then they are so
soft and mellow, it is nicer than sunshine. Next week, if you can, we'll ride
down to the Grange Park and try mine."
Linton did not appear
to remember what she talked of, and he had evidently great difficulty in
sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack of interest in the subjects she
started, and his equal incapacity to contribute to her entertainment, were so
obvious that she could not conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration
had come over his whole person and manner. The pettishness that might be caressed
into fondness had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of the peevish
temper of a child which frets and teases on purpose to be soothed, and more of
the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation, and
ready to regard the good-humoured mirth of others as an insult. Catherine
perceived, as well as I did, that he held it rather a punishment than a
gratification to endure our company, and she made no scruple of proposing,
presently, to depart. That proposal unexpectedly roused Linton from his
lethargy, and threw him into a strange state of agitation. He glanced fearfully
towards the Heights, begging she would remain another half-hour at least.
"But I
think," said Cathy, "you'd be more comfortable at home than sitting
here; and I cannot amuse you to-day, I see, by my tales, and songs, and
chatter. You have grown wiser than I in these six months; you have little taste
for my diversions now -- or else, if I could amuse you, I'd willingly
stay."
"Stay to rest
yourself," he replied. "And, Catherine, don't think or say that I'm
very unwell. It is the heavy weather and heat that make me dull; and I walked
about, before you came, a great deal for me. Tell uncle I'm in tolerable
health, will you?"
"I'll tell him
that you say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you are," observed my
young lady, wondering at his pertinacious assertion of what was evidently an
untruth.
"And be here again
next Thursday," continued he, shunning her puzzled gaze. "And give
him my thanks for permitting you to come -- my best thanks, Catherine. And --
and if you did meet my father, and he asked you about me, don't lead him to
suppose that I've been extremely silent and stupid. Don't look sad and
downcast, as you are doing; he'll be angry."
"I care nothing
for his anger," exclaimed Cathy, imagining she would be its object.
"But I do,"
said her cousin, shuddering. "Don't provoke him against me, Catherine, for
he is very hard."
"Is he severe to
you, Master Heathcliff?" I inquired.
"Has he grown weary
of indulgence, and passed from passive to active hatred?"
Linton looked at me,
but did not answer; and after keeping her seat by his side another ten minutes,
during which his head fell drowsily on his breast, and he uttered nothing
except suppressed moans of exhaustion or pain, Cathy began to seek solace in
looking for bilberries, and sharing the produce of her researches with me. She
did not offer them to him, for she saw further notice would only weary and
annoy.
"Is it half an
hour now, Ellen?" she whispered in my ear at last. "I can't tell why
we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be wanting us back."
"Well, we must not
leave him asleep," I answered.
"Wait till he
wakes, and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your longing to
see poor Linton has soon evaporated."
"Why did he wish
to see me?" returned Catherine.
"In his crossest
humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his present curious mood.
It's just as if it were a task he was compelled to perform -- this interview --
for fear his father should scold him. But I'm hardly going to come to give Mr.
Heathcliff pleasure, whatever reason he may have for ordering Linton to undergo
this penance. And though I'm glad he's better in health, I'm sorry he's so much
less pleasant, and so much less affectionate to me."
"You think he is
better in health, then?" I said.
"Yes," she
answered, "because he always made such a great deal of his sufferings, you
know. He is not tolerably well, as he told me to tell papa; but he's better,
very likely."
"There you differ
with me, Miss Cathy," I remarked.
"I should
conjecture him to be far worse."
Linton here started
from his slumber in bewildered terror, and asked if any one had called his
name.
"No," said
Catherine, "unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how you manage to doze out
of doors, in the morning."
"I thought I heard
my father," he gasped, glancing up to the frowning nab above us. "You
are sure nobody spoke?"
"Quite sure,"
replied his cousin. "Only Ellen and I were disputing concerning your
health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when we separated in winter? If
you be, I'm certain one thing is not stronger -- your regard for me. Speak! Are
you?"
The tears gushed from
Linton's eyes as he answered,
"Yes, yes, I
am!" And still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze wandered
up and down to detect its owner.
Cathy rose. "For
to-day we must part," she said.
"And I won't
conceal that I have been sadly disappointed with our meeting, though I'll mention
it to nobody but you -- not that I stand in awe of Mr. Heathcliff."
"Hush!"
murmured Linton; "for God's sake, hush! He's coming." And he clung to
Catherine's arm, striving to detain her; but at that announcement she hastily
disengaged herself and whistled to Minny, who obeyed her like a dog.
"I'll be here next
Thursday," she cried, springing to the saddle. "Good-bye. -- Quick,
Ellen!" And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure, so
absorbed was he in anticipating his father's approach.
Before we reached home,
Catherine's displeasure softened into a perplexed sensation of pity and regret,
largely blended with vague, uneasy doubts about Linton's actual circumstances,
physical and social, in which I partook, though I counselled her not to say
much, for a second journey would make us better judges. My master requested an
account of our ongoings. His nephew's offering of thanks was duly delivered,
Miss Cathy gently touching on the rest. I also threw little light on his
inquiries, for I hardly knew what to hide and what to reveal.
Seven days glided away,
every one marking its course by the henceforth rapid alteration of Edgar
Linton's state. The havoc that months had previously wrought was now emulated
by the inroads of hours.
Catherine, we would
fain have deluded yet, but her own quick spirit refused to delude her. It
divined, in secret, and brooded on the dreadful probability, gradually ripening
into certainty.
She had not the heart
to mention her ride, when Thursday came round; I mentioned it for her, and
obtained permission to order her out of doors; for the library, where her
father stopped a short time daily -- the brief period he could bear to sit up
-- and his chamber, had become her whole world. She grudged each moment that
did not find her bending over his pillow, or seated by his side. Her
countenance grew wan with watching and sorrow, and my master gladly dismissed
her to what he flattered himself would be a happy change of scene and society,
drawing comfort from the hope that she would not now be left entirely alone
after his death.
He had a fixed idea, I
guessed by several observations he let fall, that as his nephew resembled him
in person, he would resemble him in mind; for Linton's letters bore few or no
indications of his defective character. And I through pardonable weakness
refrained from correcting the error; asking myself what good there would be in
disturbing his last moments with information that he had neither power nor
opportunity to turn to account.
We deferred our
excursion till the afternoon; a golden afternoon of August -- every breath from
the hills so full of life, that it seemed whoever respired it, though dying,
might revive. Catherine's face was just like the landscape -- shadows and
sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer,
and the sunshine was more transient; and her poor little heart reproached
itself for even that passing forgetfulness of its cares.
We discerned Linton
watching at the same spot he had selected before. My young mistress alighted,
and told me that, as she was resolved to stay a very little while, I had better
hold the pony and remain on horse- back; but I dissented. I wouldn't risk
losing sight of the charge committed to me a minute, so we climbed the slope of
heath together. Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation on this
occasion -- not the animation of high spirits though, nor yet of joy; it looked
more like fear.
"It is late,"
he said, speaking short and with difficulty. "Is not your father very ill?
I thought you wouldn't come."
"Why won't you be
candid?" cried Catherine, swallowing her greeting. "Why cannot you
say at once you don't want me? It is strange, Linton, that for the second time
you have brought me here on purpose, apparently, to distress us both, and for
no reason besides."
Linton shivered, and
glanced at her, half supplicating, half ashamed; but his cousin's patience was
not sufficient to endure this enigmatical behaviour.
"My father is very
ill," she said; "and why am I called from his bedside? Why didn't you
send to absolve me from my promise when you wished I wouldn't keep it? Come! I
desire an explanation; playing and trifling are completely banished out of my
mind, and I can't dance attendance on your affectations now!"
"My
affectations!" he murmured; "what are they? For Heaven's sake,
Catherine, don't look so angry! Despise me as much as you please. I am a
worthless, cowardly wretch -- I can't be scorned enough; but I'm too mean for
your anger. Hate my father, and spare me for contempt."
"Nonsense!"
cried Catherine in a passion. "Foolish, silly boy! And there! he trembles,
as if I were really going to touch him! You needn't bespeak contempt, Linton;
anybody will have it spontaneously at your service. Get off! I shall return
home. It is folly dragging you from the hearthstone, and pretending -- what do
we pretend? Let go my frock! If I pitied you for crying and looking so very
frightened, you should spurn such pity. -- Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this
conduct is. -- Rise, and don't degrade yourself into an abject reptile --
don't!"
With streaming face and
an expression of agony Linton had thrown his nerveless frame along the ground.
He seemed convulsed with exquisite terror.
"Oh!" he
sobbed, "I cannot bear it! Catherine, Catherine, I'm a traitor too, and I
dare not tell you! But leave me, and I shall be killed! Dear Catherine, my life
is in your hands; and you have said you loved me, and if you did, it wouldn't
harm you. You'll not go then, kind, sweet, good Catherine? And perhaps you will
consent -- and he'll let me die with you!"
My young lady, on
witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him. The old feeling of
indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she grew thoroughly moved and
alarmed.
"Consent to
what?" she asked. "To stay? Tell me the meaning of this strange talk,
and I will. You contradict your own words and distract me. Be calm and frank,
and confess at once all that weighs on your heart. You wouldn't injure me, Linton,
would you? You wouldn't let any enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I'll
believe you are a coward for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best
friend."
"But my father
threatened me," gasped the boy, clasping his attenuated fingers, "and
I dread him -- I dread him! I dare not tell!"
"Oh, well,"
said Catherine, with scornful compassion, "keep your secret. I'm no
coward. Save yourself. I'm not afraid."
Her magnanimity
provoked his tears. He wept wildly, kissing her supporting hands, and yet could
not summon courage to speak out. I was cogitating what the mystery might be,
and determined Catherine should never suffer to benefit him or any one else, by
my goodwill, when, hearing a rustle among the ling, I looked up and saw Mr.
Heathcliff almost close upon us, descending the Heights. He didn't cast a
glance towards my companions, though they were sufficiently near for Linton's
sobs to be audible, but hailing me in the almost hearty tone he assumed to none
besides, and the sincerity of which I couldn't avoid doubting, he said, --
"It is something
to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are you at the Grange? Let us hear.
The rumour goes," he added in a lower tone, "that Edgar Linton is on
his deathbed; perhaps they exaggerate his illness?"
"No. My master is
dying," I replied; "it is true enough. A sad thing it will be for us
all, but a blessing for him."
"How long will he
last, do you think?" he asked.
"I don't
know," I said.
"Because," he
continued, looking at the two young people, who were fixed under his eye --
Linton appeared as if he could not venture to stir or raise his head, and
Catherine could not move on his account -- "because that lad yonder seems
determined to beat me, and I'd thank his uncle to be quick and go before him.
Hullo! has the whelp been playing that game long? I did give him some lessons
about snivelling. Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton generally?"
"Lively? No; he
has shown the greatest distress," I answered. "To see him, I should
say that, instead of rambling with his sweetheart on the hills, he ought to be
in bed, under the hands of a doctor."
"He shall be in a
day or two," muttered Heathcliff. "But first ---- Get up, Linton! get
up!" he shouted.
"Don't grovel on
the ground there. Up, this moment!"
Linton had sunk
prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless fear, caused by his father's
glance towards him, I suppose; there was nothing else to produce such
humiliation. He made several efforts to obey, but his little strength was
annihilated for the time, and he fell back again with a moan.
Mr. Heathcliff
advanced, and lifted him to lean against a ridge of turf.
"Now," said
he, with curbed ferocity, "I'm getting angry, and if you don't command
that paltry spirit of yours ---- Damn you! get up directly!"
"I will,
father," he panted. "Only let me alone, or I shall faint. I've done
as you wished, I'm sure. Catherine will tell you that I -- that I -- have been
cheerful -- Ah! keep by me, Catherine. Give me your hand."
"Take mine,"
said his father. "Stand on your feet. There now; she'll lend you her arm.
That's right; look at her. -- You would imagine I was the devil himself, Miss
Linton, to excite such horror. Be so kind as to walk home with him, will you?
He shudders if I touch him."
"Linton
dear!" whispered Catherine, "I can't go to Wuthering Heights; papa
has forbidden me. He'll not harm you. Why are you so afraid?"
"I can never
re-enter that house," he answered. "I'm not to re-enter it without
you."
"Stop!" cried
his father. "We'll respect Catherine's filial scruples -- Nelly, take him
in, and I'll follow your advice concerning the doctor without delay."
"You'll do
well," replied I. "But I must remain with my mistress; to mind your
son is not my business."
"You are very
stiff," said Heathcliff -- "I know that; but you'll force me to pinch
the baby and make it scream before it moves your charity. -- Come, then, my
hero. Are you willing to return, escorted by me?"
He approached once
more, and made as if he would seize the fragile being; but, shrinking back,
Linton clung to his cousin, and implored her to accompany him, with a frantic
importunity that admitted no denial. However I disapproved, I couldn't hinder
her. Indeed, how could she have refused him herself? What was filling him with
dread we had no means of discerning; but there he was, powerless under its
gripe, and any addition seemed capable of shocking him into idiocy. We reached
the threshold. Catherine walked in, and I stood waiting till she had conducted
the invalid to a chair, expecting her out immediately, when Mr. Heathcliff,
pushing me forward, exclaimed, --
"My house is not
stricken with the plague, Nelly, and I have a mind to be hospitable to-day. Sit
down, and allow me to shut the door."
He shut and locked it
also. I started.
"You shall have
tea before you go home," he added. "I am by myself. Hareton is gone
with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and Joseph are off on a journey of
pleasure; and though I'm used to being alone, I'd rather have some interesting
company, if I can get it. -- Miss Linton, take your seat by him. I give you
what I have; the present is hardly worth accepting, but I have nothing else to
offer. It is Linton I mean. How she does stare! It's odd what a savage feeling
I have to anything that seems afraid of me. Had I been born where laws are less
strict and tastes less dainty, I should treat myself to a slow vivisection of
those two as an evening's amusement."
He drew in his breath,
struck the table, and swore to himself, "By hell, I hate them!"
"I'm not afraid of
you!" exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear the latter part of his
speech. She stepped close up, her black eyes flashing with passion and
resolution. "Give me that key. I will have it!" she said. "I
wouldn't eat or drink here if I were starving."
Heathcliff had the key
in his hand that remained on the table. He looked up, seized with a sort of
surprise at her boldness, or possibly reminded by her voice and glance of the
person from whom she had inherited it. She snatched at the instrument, and half
succeeded in getting it out of his loosened fingers; but her action recalled
him to the present -- he recovered it speedily.
"Now, Catherine
Linton," he said, "stand off, or I shall knock you down, and that
will make Mrs. Dean mad."
Regardless of this
warning, she captured his closed hand and its contents again. "We will
go!" she repeated, exerting her utmost efforts to cause the iron muscles
to relax; and finding that her nails made no impression, she applied her teeth
pretty sharply. Heathcliff glanced at me a glance that kept me from interfering
a moment. Catherine was too intent on his fingers to notice his face. He opened
them suddenly, and resigned the object of dispute; but ere she had well secured
it, he seized her with the liberated hand, and pulling her on his knee,
administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps on both sides of the
head, each sufficient to have fulfilled his threat, had she been able to fall.
At this diabolical
violence I rushed on him furiously. "You villain!" I began to cry,
"you villain!" A touch on the chest silenced me. I am stout, and soon
put out of breath; and what with that and the rage, I staggered dizzily back,
and felt ready to suffocate or to burst a blood-vessel. The scene was over in
two minutes. Catherine, released, put her two hands to her temples, and looked
just as if she were not sure whether her ears were off or on. She trembled like
a reed, poor thing, and leant against the table perfectly bewildered.
"I know how to
chastise children, you see," said the scoundrel grimly, as he stooped to
repossess himself of the key, which had dropped to the floor. "Go to
Linton now, as I told you, and cry at your ease. I shall be your father
to-morrow -- all the father you'll have in a few days -- and you shall have
plenty of that. You can bear plenty; you're no weakling. You shall have a daily
taste, if I catch such a devil of a temper in your eyes again!"
Cathy ran to me instead
of Linton, and knelt down and put her burning cheek on my lap, weeping aloud.
Her cousin had shrunk into a corner of the settle, as quiet as a mouse,
congratulating himself, I dare say, that the correction had lighted on another
than him. Mr. Heathcliff, perceiving us all confounded, rose, and expeditiously
made the tea himself. The cups and saucers were laid ready. He poured it out,
and handed me a cup.
"Wash away your
spleen," he said. "And help your own naughty pet and mine. It is not
poisoned, though I prepared it. I'm going out to seek your horses."
Our first thought, on
his departure, was to force an exit somewhere. We tried the kitchen door, but
that was fastened outside. We looked at the windows; they were too narrow for
even Cathy's little figure.
"Master
Linton," I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned, "you know what
your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us, or I'll box your ears,
as he has done your cousin's."
"Yes, Linton, you
must tell," said Catherine. "It was for your sake I came, and it will
be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse."
"Give me some tea
-- I'm thirsty -- and then I'll tell you," he answered. -- "Mrs.
Dean, go away. I don't like you standing over me -- Now, Catherine, you are
letting your tears fall into my cup. I won't drink that. Give me another."
Catherine pushed another
to him, and wiped her face. I felt disgusted at the little wretch's composure,
since he was no longer in terror for himself. The anguish he had exhibited on
the moor subsided as soon as ever he entered Wuthering Heights, so I guessed he
had been menaced with an awful visitation of wrath if he failed in decoying us
there; and that accomplished, he had no further immediate fears.
"Papa wants us to
be married," he continued, after sipping some of the liquid. "And he
knows your papa wouldn't let us marry now, and he's afraid of my dying if we
wait; so we are to be married in the morning, and you are to stay here all
night; and if you do as he wishes, you shall return home next day, and take me
with you."
"Take you with
her, pitiful changeling!" I exclaimed. "You marry! Why, the man is
mad, or he thinks us fools every one. And do you imagine that beautiful young
lady, that healthy, hearty girl, will tie herself to a little perishing monkey
like you? Are you cherishing the notion that anybody, let alone Miss Catherine
Linton, would have you for a husband? You want whipping for bringing us in here
at all, with your dastardly puling tricks; and -- don't look so silly now! I've
a very good mind to shake you severely for your contemptible treachery and your
imbecile conceit."
I did give him a slight
shaking, but it brought on the cough, and he took to his ordinary resource of
moaning and weeping, and Catherine rebuked me.
"Stay all night?
No," she said, looking slowly round. "Ellen, I'll burn that door
down, but I'll get out."
And she would have
commenced the execution of her threat directly, but Linton was up in alarm for
his dear self again. He clasped her in his two feeble arms, sobbing, --
"Won't you have
me, and save me? -- not let me come to the Grange? O darling Catherine, you
mustn't go and leave, after all! You must obey my father -- you must!"
"I must obey my
own," she replied, "and relieve him from this cruel suspense. The
whole night! What would he think? He'll be distressed already. I'll either
break or burn a way out of the house. Be quiet! You're in no danger. But if you
hinder me ---- Linton, I love papa better than you!"
The mortal terror he
felt of Mr. Heathcliff's anger restored to the boy his coward's eloquence.
Catherine was near distraught; still she persisted that she must go home, and
tried entreaty in her turn, persuading him to subdue his selfish agony. While
they were thus occupied, our gaoler re-entered.
"Your beasts have
trotted off," he said, "and ---- Now, Linton! snivelling again? What
has she been doing to you? Come, come; have done, and get to bed. In a month or
two, my lad, you'll be able to pay her back her present tyrannies with a
vigorous hand. You're pining for pure love, are you not? -- nothing else in the
world; and she shall have you! There, to bed! Zillah won't be here to-night.
You must undress yourself. Hush! hold your noise! Once in your own room, I'll
not come near you. You needn't fear. By chance you've managed tolerably. I'll
look to the rest."
He spoke these words,
holding the door open for his son to pass; and the latter achieved his exit
exactly as a spaniel might which suspected the person who attended on it of
designing a spiteful squeeze. The lock was re-secured. Heathcliff approached
the fire, where my mistress and I stood silent. Catherine looked up, and
instinctively raised her hand to her cheek. His neighbourhood revived a painful
sensation. Anybody else would have been incapable of regarding the childish act
with sternness, but he scowled on her and muttered, --
"Oh! you are not
afraid of me? Your courage is well disguised; you seem damnably afraid!"
"I am afraid
now," she replied, "because, if I stay, papa will be miserable; and
how can I endure making him miserable when he -- when he ---- Mr. Heathcliff,
let me go home! I promise to marry Linton; papa would like me to, and I love
him. Why should you wish to force me to do what I'll willingly do of
myself?"
"Let him dare to
force you!" I cried. "There's law in the land -- thank God there is!
-- though we be in an out-of-the-way place. I'd inform if he were my own son.
And it's felony, without benefit of clergy."
"Silence!"
said the ruffian. "To the devil with your clamour! I don't want you to
speak. -- Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself remarkably in thinking your father
will be miserable; I shall not sleep for satisfaction. You could have hit on no
surer way of fixing your residence under my roof for the next twenty-four hours
than informing me that such an event would follow. As to your promise to marry
Linton, I'll take care you shall keep it, for you shall not quit this place
till it is fulfilled."
"Send Ellen, then,
to let papa know I'm safe!" exclaimed Catherine, weeping bitterly;
"or marry me now. Poor papa! -- Ellen, he'll think we're lost. What shall
we do?"
"Not he! He'll
think you are tired of waiting on him, and run off for a little
amusement," answered Heathcliff. "You cannot deny that you entered my
house of your own accord, in contempt of his injunctions to the contrary. And it
is quite natural that you should desire amusement at your age, and that you
would weary of nursing a sick man, and that man only your father. Catherine,
his happiest days were over when your days began. He cursed you, I dare say,
for coming into the world (I did, at least), and it would just do if he cursed
you as he went out of it. I'd join him. I don't love you. How should I? Weep
away. As far as I can see, it will be your chief diversion hereafter, unless
Linton make amends for other losses; and your provident parent appears to fancy
he may. His letters of advice and consolation entertained me vastly. In his
last he recommended my jewel to be careful of his, and kind to her when he got
her. Careful and kind -- that's paternal. But Linton requires his whole stock
of care and kindness for himself. Linton can play the little tyrant well. He'll
undertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and their
claws pared. You'll be able to tell his uncle fine tales of his kindness when
you get home again, I assure you."
"You're right
there!" I said: "explain your son's character; show his resemblance
to yourself; and then, I hope, Miss Cathy will think twice before she takes the
cockatrice!"
"I don't much mind
speaking of his amiable qualities now," he answered, "because she
must either accept him or remain a prisoner, and you along with her, till your
master dies. I can detain you both, quite concealed, here. If you doubt,
encourage her to retract her word, and you'll have an opportunity of judging."
"I'll not retract
my word," said Catherine. "I'll marry him within this hour, if I may
go to Thrushcross Grange afterwards. Mr. Heathcliff, you're a cruel man, but
you're not a fiend; and you won't, from mere malice, destroy irrevocably all my
happiness. If papa thought I had left him on purpose, and if he died before I
returned, could I bear to live? I've given over crying, but I'm going to kneel
here at your knee; and I'll not get up, and I'll not take my eyes from your
face till you look back at me! No, don't turn away -- do look! You'll see
nothing to provoke you. I don't hate you. I'm not angry that you struck me.
Have you never loved anybody in all your life, uncle? never? Ah! you must look
once. I'm so wretched, you can't help being sorry and pitying me."
"Keep your eft's
fingers off, and move, or I'll kick you!" cried Heathcliff, brutally
repulsing her. "I'd rather be hugged by a snake. How the devil can you
dream of fawning on me? I detest you!"
He shrugged his
shoulders, shook himself, indeed, as if his flesh crept with aversion, and
thrust back his chair, while I got up and opened my mouth to commence a
downright torrent of abuse. But I was rendered dumb in the middle of the first
sentence by a threat that I should be shown into a room by myself the very next
syllable I uttered. It was growing dark. We heard a sound of voices at the
garden gate. Our host hurried out instantly. He had his wits about him; we had
not. There was a talk of two or three minutes, and he returned alone.
"I thought it had
been your cousin Hareton," I observed to Catherine. "I wish he would
arrive. Who knows but he might take our part?"
"It was three
servants sent to seek you from the Grange," said Heathcliff, overhearing
me. "You should have opened a lattice and called out; but I could swear
that chit is glad you didn't. She's glad to be obliged to stay, I'm
certain."
At learning the chance
we had missed we both gave vent to our grief without control, and he allowed us
to wail on till nine o'clock. Then he bade us go upstairs, through the kitchen,
to Zillah's chamber; and I whispered my companion to obey. Perhaps we might
contrive to get through the window there, or into a garret, and out by its
skylight. The window, however, was narrow, like those below, and the garret
trap was safe from our attempts, for we were fastened in as before. We neither
of us lay down. Catherine took her station by the lattice, and watched
anxiously for morning, a deep sigh being the only answer I could obtain to my
frequent entreaties that she would try to rest. I seated myself in a chair, and
rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment on my many derelictions of duty, from
which, it struck me then, all the misfortunes of my employers sprang. It was
not the case in reality, I am aware, but it was in my imagination that dismal
night; and I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I.
At seven o'clock he
came and inquired if Miss Linton had risen. She ran to the door immediately,
and answered, "Yes." "Here, then," he said, opening it, and
pulling her out. I rose to follow, but he turned the lock again. I demanded my
release.
"Be patient,"
he replied. "I'll send up your breakfast in a while."
I thumped on the panels
and rattled the latch angrily, and Catherine asked why I was still shut up? He
answered, I must try to endure it another hour; and they went away. I endured
it two or three hours. At length I heard a footstep -- not Heathcliff's.
"I've brought you
something to eat," said a voice. "Oppen t' door!"
Complying eagerly, I
beheld Hareton, laden with food enough to last me all day.
"Tak it," he
added, thursting the tray into my hand.
"Stay one
minute," I began.
"Nay," cried
he, and retired, regardless of any prayers I could pour forth to detain him.
And there I remained
enclosed the whole day, and the whole of the next night, and another, and
another. Five nights and four days I remained altogether, seeing nobody but
Hareton, once every morning; and he was a model of a gaoler -- surly and dumb,
and deaf to every attempt at moving his sense of justice or compassion.
In the fifth morning,
or rather afternoon, a different step approached -- lighter and shorter -- and,
this time, the person entered the room. It was Zillah; donned in her scarlet
shawl, with a black silk bonnet on her head, and a willow basket swung to her
arm.
"Eh, dear! Mrs.
Dean," she exclaimed. "Well! there is a talk about you at Gimmerton.
I never thought, but you were sunk in the Blackhorse marsh, and Missy with you,
till master told me you'd been found, and he'd lodged you here! What, and you
must have got on an island, sure ? And how long were you in the hole ? Did
master save you, Mrs. Dean ? But you're not so thin -- you've not been so
poorly, have you ?"
"Your master is a
true scoundrel!" I replied. "But he shall answer for it. He needn't
have raised that tale -- it shall all be laid bare!"
"What do you
mean?" asked Zillah. "It's not his tale -- they tell that in the
village -- about your being lost in the marsh; and I calls to Earnshaw, when I
come in -- "
" 'Eh, they's
queer things, Mr. Hareton, happened since I went off. It's a sad pity of that
likely young lass, and cant Nelly Dean.'
"He stared. I
thought he had not heard aught, so I told him the rumour.
"The master
listened, and he just smiled to himself, and said --
"'If they have
been in the marsh, they are out now, Zillah. Nelly Dean is lodged, at this
minute, in your room. You can tell her to flit, when you go up; here is the
key. The bog-water got into her head, and she would have run home, quite
flighty, but I fixed her, till she came round to her senses. You can bid her go
to the Grange, at once, if she be able, and carry a message from me, that her
young lady will follow in time to attend the Squire's funeral."'
"Mr. Edgar is not
dead?" I gasped. "O Zillah, Zillah!"
"No, no. Sit you
down, my good mistress," she replied; "you're right sickly yet. He's
not dead. Dr. Kenneth thinks he may last another day. I met him on the road and
asked."
Instead of sitting
down, I snatched my outdoor things and hastened below, for the way was free. On
entering the house I looked about for some one to give information of
Catherine. The place was filled with sunshine, and the door stood wide open,
but nobody seemed at hand. As I hesitated whether to go off at once or return
and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth. Linton
lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy, and pursuing my
movements with apathetic eyes. "Where is Miss Catherine?" I demanded
sternly, supposing I could frighten him into giving intelligence by catching
him thus alone. He sucked on like an innocent,
"Is she
gone?" I said.
"No," he
replied; "she's upstairs. She's not to go; we won't let her."
"You won't let
her, little idiot!" I exclaimed. "Direct me to her room immediately,
or I'll make you sing out sharply."
"Papa would make
you sing out if you attempted to get there," he answered. "He says
I'm not to be soft with Catherine. She's my wife, and it's shameful that she
should wish to leave me. He says she hates me and wants me to die, that she may
have my money. But she shan't have it, and she shan't go home -- she never
shall! She may cry and be sick as much as she pleases!"
He resumed his former
occupation, closing his lids as if he meant to drop asleep.
"Master
Heathcliff," I resumed, "have you forgotten all Catherine's kindness
to you last winter, when you affirmed you loved her, and when she brought you
books and sang you songs, and came many a time through wind and snow to see
you? She wept to miss one evening, because you would be disappointed; and you
felt then that she was a hundred times too good to you, and now you believe the
lies your father tells, though you know he detests you both. And you join him
against her. That's fine gratitude, is it not?"
The corner of Linton's
mouth fell, and he took the sugar-candy from his lips.
"Did she come to
Wuthering Heights because she hated you?" I continued. "Think for
yourself! As to your money, she does not even know that you will have any. And
you say she's sick, and yet you leave her alone up there in a strange house --
you who have felt what it is to be so neglected! You could pity your own
sufferings, and she pitied them too, but you won't pity hers! I shed tears,
Master Heathcliff, you see -- an elderly woman, and a servant merely; and you,
after pretending such affection and having reason to worship her almost, store
every tear you have for yourself, and lie there quite at ease. Ah! you're a
heartless, selfish boy!"
"I can't stay with
her," he answered crossly. "I'll not stay by myself. She cries so I
can't bear it. And she won't give over, though I say I'll call my father. I did
call him once, and he threatened to strangle her if she was not quiet; but she
began again the instant he left the room, moaning and grieving all night long,
though I screamed for vexation that I couldn't sleep."
"Is Mr. Heathcliff
out?" I inquired, perceiving that the wretched creature had no power to
sympathize with his cousin's mental tortures.
"He's in the
court," he replied, "talking to Dr. Kenneth, who says uncle is dying,
truly, at last. I'm glad, for I shall be master of the Grange after him.
Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn't hers. It's mine. Papa says
everything she has is mine. All her nice books are mine. She offered to give me
them, and her pretty birds, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of our
room and let her out; but I told her she had nothing to give -- they were all,
all mine. And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said
I should have that -- two pictures in a gold case, on one side her mother, and
on the other, uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday. I said they were
mine too, and tried to get them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn't let me;
she pushed me off, and hurt me. I shrieked out; that frightens her. She heard
papa coming, and she broke the hinges and divided the case, and gave me her
mother's portrait. The other she attempted to hide; but papa asked what was the
matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to
resign hers to me. She refused, and he -- he struck her down, and wrenched it
off the chain, and crushed it with his foot."
"And were you
pleased to see her struck?" I asked, having my designs in encouraging his
talk.
"I winked,"
he answered. "I wink to see my father strike a dog or a horse; he does it
so hard. Yet I was glad at first. She deserved punishing for pushing me. But
when papa was gone she made me come to the window, and showed me her cheek cut
on the inside, against her teeth, and her mouth filling with blood; and then
she gathered up the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her face to
the wall, and she has never spoken to me since, and I sometimes think she can't
speak for pain. I don't like to think so; but she's a naughty thing for crying
continually, and she looks so pale and wild, I'm afraid of her."
"And you can get
the key if you choose?" I said.
"Yes, when I am
upstairs," he answered. "But I can't walk upstairs now."
"In what apartment
is it?" I asked.
"Oh," he
cried, "I shan't tell you where it is! It is our secret. Nobody, neither
Hareton nor Zillah, is to know. There! you've tired me; go away, go away!"
And he turned his face on to his arm, and shut his eyes again.
I considered it best to
depart without seeing Mr. Heathcliff, and bring a rescue for my young lady from
the Grange. On reaching it, the astonishment of my fellow-servants to see me,
and their joy also, was intense; and when they heard that their little mistress
was safe, two or three were about to hurry up, and shout the news at Mr.
Edgar's door; but I bespoke the announcement of it myself. How changed I found
him even in those few days! He lay an image of sadness and resignation waiting
his death. Very young he looked; though his actual age was thirty-nine, one
would have called him ten years younger, at least. He thought of Catherine, for
he murmured her name. I touched his hand and spoke.
"Catherine is
coming, dear master," I whispered.
"She is alive and
well, and will be here, I hope, tonight."
I trembled at the first
effects of this intelligence. He half rose up, looked eagerly round the
apartment, and then sank back in a swoon. As soon as he recovered I related our
compulsory visit and detention at the Heights. I said Heathcliff forced me to
go in, which was not quite true. I uttered as little as possible against
Linton, nor did I describe all his father's brutal conduct, my intentions being
to add no bitterness, if I could help it, to his already overflowing cup.
He divined that one of
his enemy's purposes was to secure the personal property, as well as the
estate, to his son, or rather himself; yet why he did not wait till his decease
was a puzzle to my master, because ignorant how nearly he and his nephew would
quit the world together. However, he felt that his will had better be altered.
Instead of leaving Catherine's fortune at her own disposal, he determined to
put it in the hands of trustees for her use during life, and for her children,
if she had any, after her. By that means it could not fall to Mr. Heathcliff,
should Linton die.
Having received his
orders, I dispatched a man to fetch the attorney, and four more, provided with
serviceable weapons, to demand my young lady of her gaoler. Both parties were
delayed very late. The single servant returned first. He said Mr. Green, the
lawyer, was out when he arrived at his house, and he had to wait two hours for
his re-entrance; and then Mr. Green told him he had a little business in the
village, that must be done, but he would be at Thrushcross Grange before
morning. The four men came back unaccompanied also. They brought word that
Catherine was ill -- too ill to quit her room -- and Heathcliff would not
suffer them to see her. I scolded the stupid fellows well for listening to that
tale, which I would not carry to my master, resolving to take a whole bevy up
to the Heights at daylight, and storm it literally, unless the prisoner were
quietly surrendered to us. Her father shall see her, I vowed, and vowed again,
if that devil be killed on his own door-stones in trying to prevent it!
Happily I was spared
the journey and the trouble. I had gone downstairs at three o'clock to fetch a
jug of water, and was passing through the hall with it in my hand, when a sharp
knock at the front door made me jump. "Oh! it is Green," I said,
recollecting myself -- "only Green"; and I went on, intending to send
somebody else to open it; but the knock was repeated, not loud, and still
importunately. I put the jug on the banister and hastened to admit him myself.
The harvest moon shone clear outside. It was not the attorney. My own sweet
little mistress sprang on my neck, sobbing, --
"Ellen! Ellen! is
papa alive?"
"Yes!" I
cried -- "yes, my angel, he is! God be thanked, you are safe with us
again!"
She wanted to run,
breathless as she was, upstairs to Mr. Linton's room, but I compelled her to
sit down on a chair, and made her drink, and washed her pale face, chafing it
into a faint colour with my apron. Then I said I must go first and tell of her
arrival, imploring her to say she should be happy with young Heathcliff. She
stared, but soon comprehending why I counselled her to utter the falsehood, she
assured me she would not complain.
I couldn't abide to be
present at their meeting. I stood outside the chamber door a quarter of an
hour, and hardly ventured near the bed, then.
All was composed,
however. Catherine's despair was as silent as her father's joy. She supported
him calmly, in appearance, and he fixed on her features his raised eyes, that
seemed dilating with ecstasy.
He died blissfully, Mr.
Lockwood; he died so. Kissing her cheek, he murmured, --
"I am going to
her; and you, darling child, shall come to us," and never stirred or spoke
again, but continued that rapt, radiant gaze till his pulse imperceptibly
stopped and his soul departed. None could have noticed the exact minute of his
death, it was so entirely without a struggle.
Whether Catherine had
spent her tears, or whether the grief were too weighty to let them flow, she
sat there dry-eyed till the sun rose; she sat till noon, and would still have
remained brooding over that deathbed, but I insisted on her coming away and
taking some repose. It was well I succeeded in removing her, for at dinner-time
appeared the lawyer, having called at Wuthering Heights to get his instructions
how to behave. He had sold himself to Mr. Heathcliff; that was the cause of his
delay in obeying my master's summons. Fortunately, no thought of worldly
affairs crossed the latter's mind, to disturb him, after his daughter's
arrival.
Mr. Green took upon himself
to order everything and everybody about the place. He gave all the servants but
me notice to quit. He would have carried his delegated authority to the point
of insisting that Edgar Linton should not be buried beside his wife, but in the
chapel with his family. There was the will, however, to hinder that, and my
loud protestations against any infringement of its directions. The funeral was
hurried over. Catherine, Mrs. Linton Heathcliff now, was suffered to stay at
the Grange till her father's corpse had quitted it.
She told me that her
anguish had at last spurred Linton to incur the risk of liberating her. She
heard the men I sent disputing at the door, and she gathered the sense of
Heathcliff's answer. It drove her desperate. Linton, who had been conveyed up
to the little parlour soon after I left, was terrified into fetching the key
before his father reascended. He had the cunning to unlock and relock the door,
without shutting it; and when he should have gone to bed, he begged to sleep
with Hareton, and his petition was granted for once. Catherine stole out before
break of day. She dare not try the doors, lest the dogs should raise an alarm.
She visited the empty chambers and examined their windows, and luckily lighting
on her mother's, she got easily out of its lattice, and on to the ground by
means of the fir-tree close by. Her accomplice suffered for his share in the
escape, notwithstanding his timid contrivances.
The evening after the
funeral, my young lady and I were seated in the library; now musing mournfully,
one of us despairingly, on our loss, now venturing conjectures as to the gloomy
future.
We had just agreed the
best destiny which could await Catherine, would be a permission to continue
resident at the Grange, at least during Linton's life: he being allowed to join
her there, and I to remain as housekeeper. That seemed rather too favourable an
arrangement to be hoped for, and yet I did hope, and began to cheer up under
the prospect of retaining my home, and my employment, and, above all, my
beloved young mistress, when a servant -- one of the discarded ones, not yet
departed -- rushed hastily in, and said, "that devil Heathcliff" was
coming through the court: should he fasten the door in his face ?
If we had been mad
enough to order that proceeding, we had not time. He made no ceremony of
knocking, or announcing his name; he was master, and availed himself of the
master's privilege to walk straight in, without saying a word.
The sound of our
informant's voice directed him to the library: he entered, and motioning him
out, shut the door.
It was the same room
into which he had been ushered, as a guest, eighteen years before: the same
moon shone through the window; and the same autumn landscape lay outside. We
had not yet lighted a candle, but all the apartment was visible, even to the
portraits on the wall -- the splendid head of Mrs. Linton, and the graceful one
of her husband.
Heathcliff advanced to
the hearth. Time had little altered his person either. There was the same man;
his dark face rather sallower, and more composed, his frame a stone or two
heavier, perhaps, and no other difference.
Catherine had risen
with an impulse to dash out, when she saw him.
"Stop!" he
said, arresting her by the arm. "No more runnings away! Where would you
go? I'm come to fetch you home, and I hope you will be a dutiful daughter, and
not encourage my son to further disobedience. I was embarrassed how to punish
him when I discovered his part in the business -- be's such a cobweb, a pinch
would annihilate him -- but you'll see by his look that he has received his
due. I brought him down one evening, the day before yesterday, and just set him
in a chair, and never touched him afterwards. I sent Hareton out, and we had
the room to ourselves. In two hours I called Joseph to carry him up again; and
since then my presence is as potent on his nerves as a ghost, and I fancy he
sees me often, though I am not near. Hareton says he wakes and shrieks in the
night by the hour together, and calls you to protect him from me; and whether
you like your precious mate or not, you must come. He's your concern now; I
yield all my interest in him to you."
"Why not let
Catherine continue here," I pleaded, "and send Master Linton to her?
As you hate them both, you'd not miss them. They can only be a daily plague to
your unnatural heart."
"I'm seeking a
tenant for the Grange," he answered,
"and I want my
children about me, to be sure. Besides, that lass owes me her services for her
bread. I'm not going to nurture her in luxury and idleness after Linton has
gone. Make haste and get ready now, and don't oblige me to compel you."
"I shall,"
said Catherine. "Linton is all I have to love in the world, and though you
have done what you could to make him hateful to me, and me to him, you cannot
make us hate each other. And I defy you to hurt him when I am by, and I defy
you to frighten me."
"You are a
boastful champion," replied Heathcliff,
"but I don't like
you well enough to hurt him; you shall get the full benefit of the torment as
long as it lasts. It is not I who will make him hateful to you; it is his own
sweet spirit. He's as bitter as gall at your desertion and its consequences.
Don't expect thanks for this noble devotion. I heard him draw a pleasant
picture to Zillah of what he would do if he were as strong as I. The
inclination is there, and his very weakness will sharpen his wits to find a
substitute for strength."
"I know he has a
bad nature," said Catherine; "he's your son. But I'm glad I've a
better, to forgive it; and I know he loves me, and for that reason I love him.
Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you; and however miserable you make us,
we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your
greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? -- lonely, like the devil, and
envious like him? Nobody loves you -- nobody will cry for you when you die. I
wouldn't be you."
Catherine spoke with a
kind of dreary triumph. She seemed to have made up her mind to enter into the
spirit of her future family, and draw pleasure from the griefs of her enemies.
"You shall be
sorry to be yourself presently," said her father-in-law, "if you
stand there another minute. Begone, witch, and get your things!"
She scornfully
withdrew. In her absence I began to beg for Zillah's place at the Heights,
offering to resign mine to her; but he would suffer it on no account. He bade
me be silent; and then, for the first time, allowed himself a glance round the
room and a look at the pictures. Having studied Mrs. Linton's, he said, --
"I shall have that
home -- not because I need it, but ---- " He turned abruptly to the fire,
and continued, with what, for lack of a better word, I must call a smile --
"I'll tell you what I did yesterday. I got the sexton, who was digging
Linton's grave, to remove the earth off her coffin-lid, and I opened it. I
thought, once, I would have stayed there. When I saw her face again -- it is
hers yet -- he had hard work to stir me; but he said it would change if the air
blew on it, and so I struck one side of the coffin loose, and covered it up --
not Linton's side, damn him! I wish he'd been soldered in lead. And I bribed
the sexton to pull it away when I'm laid there, and slide mine out too. I'll
have it made so. And then, by the time Linton gets to us he'll not know which
is which."
"You are very
wicked Mr. Heathcliff!" I exclaimed. "Were you not ashamed to disturb
the dead?"
"I disturbed
nobody, Nelly," he replied, "and I gave some ease to myself. I shall
be a great deal more comfortable now, and you'll have a better chance of
keeping me underground when I get there. Disturbed her! No! She has disturbed
me, night and day, through eighteen years, incessantly, remorselessly, till
yesternight; and yesternight I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the last
sleep by that sleeper, with my heart stopped and my cheek frozen against hers."
"And if she had
been dissolved into earth, or worse, what would you have dreamt of then?"
I said.
"Of dissolving
with her, and being more happy still," he answered. "Do you suppose I
dread any change of that sort? I expected such a transformation on raising the
lid, but I'm better pleased that it should not commence till I share it.
Besides, unless I had received a distinct impression of her passionless
features, that strange feeling would hardly have been removed. It began oddly.
You know I was wild after she died, and eternally, from dawn to dawn, praying
her to return to me her spirit. I have a strong faith in ghosts; I have a
conviction that they can and do exist among us. The day she was buried there
came a fall of snow. In the evening I went to the churchyard. It blew bleak as
winter; all round was solitary. I didn't fear that her fool of a husband would
wander up the den so late, and no one else had business to bring them there.
Being alone, and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier
between us, I said to myself, 'I'll have her in my arms again! If she be cold,
I'll think it is this north wind that chills me, and if she be motionless, it
is sleep.' I got a spade from the toolhouse, and began to delve with all my
might. It scraped the coffin. I fell to work with my hands. The wood commenced
cracking about the screws. I was on the point of attaining my object, when it
seemed that I heard a sigh from some one above, close at the edge of the grave,
and bending down. 'If I can only get this off,' I muttered, 'I wish they may
shovel in the earth over us both!' and I wrenched at it more desperately still.
There was another sigh close at my ear. I appeared to feel the warm breath of
it displacing the sleet-laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh and blood
was by; but as certainly as you perceive the approach to some substantial body
in the dark, though it cannot be discerned, so certainly I felt that Cathy was
there -- not under me, but on the earth. A sudden sense of relief flowed from
my heart through every limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and turned
consoled at once, unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me; it remained
while I refilled the grave, and led me home. You may laugh if you will, but I
was sure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me, and I could not
help talking to her. Having reached the Heights, I rushed eagerly to the door.
It was fastened, and, I remember, that accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed my
entrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and then hurrying
upstairs to my room and hers. I looked round impatiently; I felt her by me; I
could almost see her, and yet I could not! I ought to have sweat blood then,
from the anguish of my yearning, from the fervour of my supplications to have
but one glimpse. I had not one. She showed herself, as she often was in life, a
devil to me! And since then, sometimes more and sometimes less, I've been the
sport of that intolerable torture -- infernal! keeping my nerves at such a
stretch that, if they had not resembled catgut, they would long ago have
relaxed to the feebleness of Linton's. When I sat in the house with Hareton it
seemed that on going out I should meet her; when I walked on the moors I should
meet her coming in; when I went from home I hastened to return. She must be
somewhere at the Heights, I was certain. And when I slept in her chamber, I was
beaten out of that. I couldn't lie there, for the moment I closed my eyes she
was either outside the window, or sliding back the panels, or entering the
room, or even resting her darling head on the same pillow as she did when a
child, and I must open my lids to see. And so I opened and closed them a
hundred times a night, to be always disappointed. It racked me. I've often
groaned aloud, till that old rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my conscience
was playing the fiend inside of me. Now, since I've seen her, I'm pacified -- a
little. It was a strange way of killing -- not by inches, but by fractions of
hairbreadths -- to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen
years!"
Mr. Heathcliff paused
and wiped his forehead. His hair clung to it, wet with perspiration; his eyes
were fixed on the red embers of the fire, the brows not contracted, but raised
next the temples, diminishing the grim aspect of his countenance, but imparting
a peculiar look of trouble and a painful appearance of mental tension towards
one absorbing subject. He only half addressed me, and I maintained silence. I
didn't like to hear him talk. After a short period he resumed his meditation on
the picture, took it down and leant it against the sofa to contemplate it at
better advantage; and while so occupied Catherine entered, announcing that she
was ready, when her pony should be saddled.
"Send that over
to-morrow," said Heathcliff to me; then turning to her, he added,
"You may do without your pony. It is a fine evening, and you'll need no
ponies at Wuthering Heights, for what journeys you take your own feet will
serve you. Come along."
"Good-bye,
Ellen!" whispered my dear little mistress. As she kissed me, her lips felt
like ice. "Come and see me, Ellen; don't forget."
"Take care you do
no such thing, Mrs. Dean!" said her new father. "When I wish to speak
to you I'll come here. I want none of your prying at my house."
He signed her to
precede him, and casting back a look that cut my heart, she obeyed. I watched
them from the window walk down the garden. Heathcliff fixed Catherine's arm
under his, though she disputed the act at first evidently, and with rapid strides
he hurried her into the alley, whose trees concealed them.
I have paid a visit to
the Heights, but I have not seen her since she left; Joseph held the door in
his hand, when I called to ask after her, and wouldn't let me pass. He said
Mrs. Linton was "thrang," and the master was not in. Zillah has told
me something of the way they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was
dead, and who living.
She thinks Catherine
haughty, and does not like her, I can guess by her talk. My young lady asked
some aid of her, when she first came, but Mr. Heathcliff told her to follow her
own business, and let his daughter-in-law look after herself, and Zillah
willingly acquiesced, being a narrow-minded selfish woman. Catherine evinced a
child's annoyance at this neglect; repaid it with contempt, and thus enlisted
my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had done her some great
wrong.
I had a long talk with
Zillah, about six weeks ago, a little before you came, one day, when we
foregathered on the moor; and this is what she told me.
"The first thing
Mrs. Linton did," she said, "on her arrival at the Heights, was to
run upstairs without even wishing good- evening to me and Joseph; she shut
herself into Linton's room, and remained till morning -- then, while the master
and Earnshaw were at breakfast, she entered the house and asked all in a quiver
if the doctor might be sent for ? her cousin was very ill."
"'We know that!'
answered Heathcliff, 'but his life is not worth a farthing, and I won't spend a
farthing on him.'
"'But I cannot
tell how to do,' she said, 'and if nobody will help me, he'll die!'
" 'Walk out of the
room !' cried the master, 'and let me never hear a word more about him ! None
here care what becomes of him. If you do, act the nurse; if you do not, lock
him up and leave him.'
"Then she began to
bother me, and I said I'd had enough plague with the tiresome thing. We each
had our tasks, and hers was to wait on Linton; Mr. Heathcliff bade me leave
that labour to her.
"How they managed
together I can't tell. I fancy he fretted a great deal, and moaned hisseln
night and day; and she had precious little rest, one could guess by her white
face and heavy eyes. She sometimes came into the kitchen all wildered like, and
looked as if she would fain beg assistance. But I was not going to disobey the
master -- I never dare disobey him, Mrs. Dean; and though I thought it wrong
that Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of mine either to advise
or complain, and I always refused to meddle. Once or twice, after we had gone
to bed, I've happened to open my door again and seen her sitting crying on the
stairs' top; and then I've shut myself in quick, for fear of being moved to
interfere. I did pity her then, I'm sure; still I didn't wish to lose my place,
you know.
"At last, one
night she came boldly into my chamber, and frightened me out of my wits by
saying, --
" 'Tell Mr.
Heathcliff that his son is dying. I'm sure he is, this time. Get up instantly,
and tell him.'
"Having uttered
this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter of an hour listening and
trembling. Nothing stirred -- the house was quiet.
"She's mistaken, I
said to myself. He's got over it. I needn't disturb them. And I began to doze.
But my sleep was marred a second time by a sharp ringing of the bell -- the
only bell we have, put up on purpose for Linton; and the master called to me to
see what was the matter, and inform them that he wouldn't have that noise
repeated.
"I delivered
Catherine's message. He cursed to himself, and in a few minutes came out with a
lighted candle, and proceeded to their room. I followed. Mrs. Heathcliff was
seated by the bedside with her hands folded on her knees. Her father-in-law
went up, held the light to Linton's face, looked at him, and touched him.
Afterwards he turned to her.
" 'Now, Catherine,'
he said, 'how do you feel?'
"She was dumb.
" 'How do you
feel, Catherine?' he repeated.
" 'He's safe, and
I'm free,' she answered. 'I should feel well, but,' she continued, with a
bitterness she couldn't conceal, 'you have left me so long to struggle against
death alone that I feel and see only death. I feel like death.'
"And she looked
like it too. I gave her a little wine. Hareton and Joseph, who had been wakened
by the ringing and the sound of feet, and heard our talk from outside, now
entered. Joseph was fain, I believe, of the lad's removal; Hareton seemed a
thought bothered, though he was more taken up with staring at Catherine than
thinking of Linton. But the master bade him get off to bed again; we didn't
want his help. He afterwards made Joseph remove the body to his chamber, and
told me to return to mine, and Mrs. Heathcliff remained by herself.
"In the morning he
sent me to tell her she must come down to breakfast. She had undressed, and
appeared going to sleep, and said she was ill, at which I hardly wondered. I
informed Mr. Heathcliff, and he replied, --
" 'Well, let her
be till after the funeral, and go up now and then to get her what is needful;
and as soon as she seems better, tell me.' "
Cathy stayed upstairs a
fortnight, according to Zillah, who visited her twice a day, and would have
been rather more friendly, but her attempts at increasing kindness were proudly
and promptly repelled.
Heathcliff went up once
to show her Linton's will. He had bequeathed the whole of his and what had been
her movable property to his father. The poor creature was threatened or coaxed
into that act during her week's absence when his uncle died. The lands, being a
minor, he could not meddle with. However, Mr. Heathcliff has claimed and kept
them in his wife's right and his also -- I suppose legally. At any rate,
Catherine, destitute of cash and friends, cannot disturb his possession.
"Nobody,"
said Zillah, "ever approached her door, except that once, but I; and
nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of her coming down into the
house was on a Sunday afternoon. She had cried out, when I carried up her
dinner, that she couldn't bear any longer being in the cold; and I told her the
master was going to Thrushcross Grange, and Earnshaw and I needn't hinder her
from descending; so, as soon as she heard Heathcliff's horse trot off, she made
her appearance, donned in black, and her yellow curls combed back behind her
ears as plain as a Quaker. She couldn't comb them out.
"Joseph and I
generally go to chapel on Sundays." The kirk, you know, has no minister
now, explained Mrs. Dean, and they call the Methodists' or Baptists' place (I
can't say which it is) at Gimmerton a chapel.
"Joseph has
gone," she continued, "but I thought proper to bide at home. Young
folks are always the better for an elder's overlooking; and Hareton, with all
his bashfulness, isn't a model of nice behaviour. I let him know that his
cousin would very likely sit with us, and she had been always used to see the
Sabbath respected, so he had as good leave his guns and bits of indoor work
alone while she stayed. He coloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his
hands and clothes. The train-oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a
minute. I saw he meant to give her his company, and I guessed by his way he
wanted to be presentable; so, laughing as I durst not laugh when the master is
by, I offered to help him, if he would, and joked at his confusion. He grew
sullen, and began to swear.
"Now, Mrs.
Dean," Zillah went on, seeing me not pleased by her manner, "you
happen think your young lady too fine for Mr. Hareton, and happen you're right,
but I own I should love well to bring her pride a peg lower. And what will all
her learning and her daintiness do for her now? She's as poor as you or I --
poorer, I'll be bound. You're saving, and I'm doing my little all that
road."
Hareton allowed Zillah
to give him her aid, and she flattered him into a good humour. So, when
Catherine came, half forgetting her former insults, he tried to make himself
agreeable, by the housekeeper's account.
"Missis walked
in," she said, "as chill as an icicle, and as high as a princess. I
got up and offered her my seat in the armchair. No, she turned up her nose at
my civility. Earnshaw rose too and bade her come to the settle, and sit close
by the fire; he was sure she was starved.
" 'I've been starved
a month and more,' she answered, resting on the word as scornful as she could.
"And she got a
chair for herself, and placed it at a distance from both of us. Having sat till
she was warm, she began to look round, and discovered a number of books in the
dresser. She was instantly upon her feet again, stretching to reach them; but
they were too high up. Her cousin, after watching her endeavours a while, at
last summoned courage to help her. She held her frock, and he filled it with
the first that came to hand.
"That was a great
advance for the lad. She didn't thank him, still he felt gratified that she had
accepted his assistance, and ventured to stand behind as she examined them, and
even to stoop and point out what struck his fancy in certain old pictures which
they contained. Nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked the
page from his finger. He contented himself with going a bit farther back, and
looking at her instead of the book. She continued reading, or seeking for
something to read. His attention became, by degrees, quite centred in the study
of her thick, silky curls. Her face he couldn't see, and she couldn't see him.
And, perhaps not quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a
candle, at last he proceeded from staring to touching. He put out his hand and
stroked one curl, as gently as if it were a bird. He might have stuck a knife
into her neck, she started round in such a taking.
" 'Get away this
moment! How dare you touch me! Why are you stopping there?' she cried in a tone
of disgust. 'I can't endure you! I'll go upstairs again if you come near me.'
"Mr. Hareton
recoiled, looking as foolish as he could do. He sat down in the settle very
quiet, and she continued turning over her volumes another half-hour. Finally
Earnshaw crossed over and whispered to me, --
" 'Will you ask
her to read to us, Zillah? I'm stalled of doing naught; and I do like -- I
could like to hear her. Dunnot say I wanted it, but ask of yourseln.'
" 'Mr. Hareton
wishes you would read to us, ma'am,' I said immediately. 'He'd take it very
kind -- he'd be much obliged.'
"She frowned, and
looking up, answered, --
" 'Mr. Hareton and
the whole set of you will be good enough to understand that I reject any
pretence at kindness you have the hypocrisy to offer! I despise you, and will
have nothing to say to any of you! When I would have given my life for one kind
word, even to see one of your faces, you all kept off. But I won't complain to
you. I'm driven down here by the cold, not either to amuse you or enjoy your
society.'
" 'What could I
ha' done?' began Earnshaw. 'How was I to blame?'
" 'Oh, you are an
exception,' answered Mrs. Heathcliff. 'I never missed such a concern as you.'
" 'But I offered
more than once, and asked,' he said, kindling up at her pertness -- 'I asked
Mr. Heathcliff to let me wake for you ---- '
" 'Be silent! I'll
go out of doors, or anywhere, rather than have your disagreeable voice in my
ear,' said my lady.
"Hareton muttered
she might go to hell, for him, and unslinging his gun, restrained himself from
his Sunday occupations no longer. He talked now freely enough, and she
presently saw fit to retreat to her solitude; but the frost had set in, and, in
spite of her pride, she was forced to condescend to our company more and more.
However, I took care there should be no further scorning at my good nature.
Ever since I've been as stiff as herself, and she has no lover or liker among
us; and she does not deserve one, for, let them say the least word to her, and
she'll curl back without respect of any one. She'll snap at the master himself,
and as good as dares him to thrash her; and the more hurt she gets, the more
venomous she grows."
At first, on hearing
this account from Zillah, I determined to leave my situation, take a cottage,
and get Catherine to come and live with me; but Mr. Heathcliff would as soon
permit that as he would set up Hareton in an independent house, and I can see
no remedy at present, unless she could marry again, and that scheme it does not
come within my province to arrange.
Thus ended Mrs. Dean's
story. Notwithstanding the doctor's prophecy, I am rapidly recovering strength;
and though it be only the second week in January, I propose getting out on
horseback in a day or two, and riding over to Wuthering Heights to inform my
landlord that I shall spend the next six months in London; and, if he likes, he
may look out for another tenant to take the place after October. I would not
pass another winter here for much.
Yesterday was bright,
calm, and frosty. I went to the Heights as I proposed; my housekeeper entreated
me to bear a little note from her to her young lady, and I did not refuse, for
the worthy woman was not conscious of anything odd in her request.
The front door stood
open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at my last visit; I knocked and
invoked Earnshaw from among the garden beds; he unchained it, and I entered.
The fellow is as handsome a rustic as need be seen. I took particular notice of
him this time; but then, he does his best, apparently, to make the least of his
advantages.
I asked if Mr.
Heathcliff were at home ? He answered, no; but he would be in at dinner-time.
It was eleven o'clock, and I announced my intention of going in, and waiting
for him, at which he immediately flung down his tools and accompanied me, in
the office of watchdog, not as a substitute for the host.
We entered together;
Catherine was there, making herself useful in preparing some vegetables for the
approaching meal; she looked more sulky and less spirited than when I had seen
her first. She hardly raised her eyes to notice me, and continued her
employment with the same disregard to common forms of politeness, as before;
never returning my bow and good morning by the slightest acknowledgment.
"She does not seem
so amiable," I thought, "as Mrs. Dean would persuade me to believe.
She's a beauty, it is true; but not an angel."
Earnshaw surlily bid
her remove her things to the kitchen. "Remove them yourself," she
said, pushing them from her, as soon as she had done, and retiring to a stool
by the window, where she began to carve figures of birds and beasts, out of the
turnip parings in her lap.
I approached her,
pretending to desire a view of the garden; and, as I fancied, adroitly dropped
Mrs. Dean's note on to her knee, unnoticed by Hareton; but she asked aloud,
"What is that?" and chucked it off.
"A letter from
your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at the Grange," I answered, annoyed
at her exposing my kind deed, and fearful lest it should be imagined a missive
of my own. She would gladly have gathered it up at this information, but
Hareton beat her. He seized and put it in his waistcoat, saying Mr. Heathcliff
should look at it first. Thereat Catherine silently turned her face from us,
and very stealthily drew out her pocket-handkerchief and applied it to her
eyes; and her cousin, after struggling a while to keep down his softer
feelings, pulled out the letter and flung it on the floor beside her, as
ungraciously as he could. Catherine caught and perused it eagerly; then she put
a few questions to me concerning the inmates, rational and irrational, of her
former home, and gazing towards the hills, murmured in soliloquy, ---
"I should like to
be riding Minny down there! I should like to be climbing up there! Oh! I'm
tired -- I'm stalled,Hareton!" And she leant her pretty head back against
the sill, with half a yawn and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of
abstracted sadness, neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.
"Mrs.
Heathcliff," I said, after sitting some time mute, "you are not aware
that I am an acquaintance of yours -- so intimate that I think it strange you
won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper never wearies of talking about and
praising you, and she'll be greatly disappointed if I return with no news of or
from you, except that you received her letter and said nothing."
She appeared to wonder
at this speech, and asked, --
"Does Ellen like
you?"
"Yes, very
well," I replied hesitatingly.
"You must tell
her," she continued, "that I would answer her letter, but I have no
materials for writing -- not even a book from which I might tear a leaf."
"No books!" I
exclaimed. "How do you contrive to live here without them? if I may take
the liberty to inquire. Though provided with a large library, I'm frequently
very dull at the Grange. Take my books away, and I should be desperate."
"I was always
reading when I had them," said Catherine; "and Mr. Heathcliff never
reads, so he took it into his head to destroy my books. I have not had a
glimpse of one for weeks. Only once I searched through Joseph's store of
theology, to his great irritation. -- And once, Hareton, I came upon a secret
stock in your room -- some Latin and Greek, and some tales and poetry, all old
friends. I brought the last here, and you gathered them, as a magpie gathers
silver spoons, for the mere love of stealing -- they are of no use to you; or
else you concealed them in the bad spirit that as you cannot enjoy them nobody
else shall. Perhaps your envy counselled Mr. Heathcliff to rob me of my
treasures? But I've most of them written on my brain and printed in my heart,
and you cannot deprive me of those."
Earnshaw blushed
crimson when his cousin made this revelation of his private literary
accumulations, and stammered an indignant denial of her accusations.
"Mr. Hareton is
desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge," I said, coming to his
rescue. "He is not envious but emulous of your attainments. He'll be a
clever scholar in a few years."
"And he wants me
to sink into a dunce meantime," answered Catherine. "Yes, I hear him
trying to spell and read to himself, and pretty blunders he makes! -- I wish
you would repeat 'Chevy Chase' as you did yesterday; it was extremely funny. I
heard you, and I heard you turning over the dictionary to seek out the hard
words, and then cursing because you couldn't read their explanations."
The young man evidently
thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for his ignorance, and then
laughed at for trying to remove it. I had a similar notion; and remembering
Mrs. Dean's anecdote of his first attempt at enlightening the darkness in which
he had been reared, I observed, --
"But, Mrs.
Heathcliff, we have each had a commencement, and each stumbled and tottered on
the threshold. Had our teachers scorned instead of aiding us, we should stumble
and totter yet."
"Oh!" she
replied, "I don't wish to limit his acquirements. Still, he has no right
to appropriate what is mine, and make it ridiculous to me with his vile
mistakes and mispronunciations. Those books, both prose and verse, are
consecrated to me by other associations, and I hate to have them debased and
profaned in his mouth. Besides, of all, he has selected my favourite pieces
that I love the most to repeat, as if out of deliberate malice." Hareton's
chest heaved in silence a minute. He laboured under a severe sense of
mortification and wrath, which it was no easy task to suppress. I rose, and,
from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his embarrassment, took up my station in
the doorway, surveying the external prospect as I stood. He followed my
example, and left the room, but presently reappeared, bearing half a dozen
volumes in his hands, which he threw into Catherine's lap, exclaiming, --
"Take them! I
never want to hear, or read, or think of them again!"
"I won't have them
now," she answered. "I shall connect them with you, and hate
them."
She opened one that had
obviously been often turned over, and read a portion in the drawling tone of a
beginner, then laughed and threw it from her. "And listen," she
continued provokingly, commencing a verse of an old ballad in the same fashion.
But his self-love would
endure no further torment. I heard, and not altogether disapprovingly, a manual
check given to her saucy tongue. The little wretch had done her utmost to hurt
her cousin's sensitive though uncultivated feelings, and a physical argument
was the only mode he had of balancing the account and repaying its effects on
the inflictor. He afterwards gathered the books and hurled them on the fire. I
read in his countenance what anguish it was to offer that sacrifice to spleen.
I fancied that as they consumed he recalled the pleasure they had already
imparted and the triumph and ever-increasing pleasure he had anticipated from
them, and I fancied I guessed the incitement to his secret studies also. He had
been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments till Catherine
crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first
prompters to higher pursuits; and, instead of guarding him from one and winning
him to the other, his endeavours to raise himself had produced just the
contrary result.
"Yes, that's all
the good that such a brute as you can get from them!" cried Catherine,
sucking her damaged lip, and watching the conflagration with indignant eyes.
"You'd better hold
your tongue now," he answered fiercely.
And his agitation
precluded further speech. He advanced hastily to the entrance, where I made way
for him to pass. But ere he had crossed the door-stones, Mr. Heathcliff, coming
up the causeway, encountered him, and laying hold of his shoulder, asked, --
"What's to do now,
my lad?"
"Naught,
naught," he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and anger in solitude.
Heathcliff gazed after
him and sighed.
"It will be odd if
I thwart myself," he muttered, unconscious that I was behind him.
"But when I look for his father in his face, I find her every day more.
How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear to see him."
He bent his eyes to the
ground, and walked moodily in. There was a restless, anxious expression in his
countenance I had never remarked there before, and he looked sparer in person.
His daughter-in-law, on perceiving him through the window, immediately escaped
to the kitchen, so that I remained alone.
"I'm glad to see
you out of doors again, Mr. Lockwood," he said, in reply to my greeting,
"from selfish motives partly. I don't think I could readily supply your
loss in this desolation. I've wondered more than once what brought you
here."
"An idle whim, I
fear, sir," was my answer, "or else an idle whim is going to spirit
me away. I shall set out for London next week, and I must give you warning that
I feel no disposition to retain Thrushcross Grange beyond the twelve months I
agreed to rent it. I believe I shall not live there any more."
"Oh, indeed;
you're tired of being banished from the world, are you?" he said.
"But if you be coming to plead off paying for a place you won't occupy,
your journey is useless. I never relent in exacting my due from any one."
"I'm coming to
plead off nothing about it," I exclaimed, considerably irritated.
"Should you wish it, I'll settle with you now." And I drew my
notebook from my pocket.
"No, no," he
replied coolly; "you'll leave sufficient behind to cover your debts if you
fail to return. I'm not in such a hurry. Sit down and take your dinner with us.
A guest that is safe from repeating his visit can generally be made welcome. --
Catherine, bring the things in. Where are you?"
Catherine reappeared,
bearing a tray of knives and forks.
"You may get your
dinner with Joseph," muttered Heathcliff aside, "and remain in the
kitchen till he is gone."
She obeyed his
directions very punctually; perhaps she had no temptation to transgress. Living
among clowns and misanthropists, she probably cannot appreciate a better class
of people when she meets them.
With Mr. Heathcliff,
grim and saturnine, on the one hand, and Hareton, absolutely dumb, on the
other, I made a somewhat cheerless meal, and bade adieu early. I would have
departed by the back way, to get a last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old
Joseph; but Hareton received orders to lead up my horse, and my host himself
escorted me to the door, so I could not fulfil my wish.
"How dreary life
gets over in that house!" I reflected, while riding down the road.
"What a realization of something more romantic than a fairy tale it would
have been for Mrs. Linton Heathcliff had she and I struck up an attachment, as
her good nurse desired, and migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of
the town!"
1802. -- This
September, I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend, in the North; and,
on my journey to his abode, I unexpectedly came within fifteen miles of
Gimmerton. The hostler, at a roadside public-house, was holding a pail of water
to refresh my horses, when a cart of ven, green oats, newly reaped, passed by,
and he remarked --
"Yon's frough
Gimmerton, nah! They're allas three wick after other folk wi' ther
harvest."
"Gimmerton ?"
I repeated -- my residence in that locality had already grown dim and dreamy.
"Ah! I know! How far is it from this?"
"Happen fourteen
mile o'er th' hills, and a rough road," he answered.
A sudden impulse seized
me to visit Thrushcross Grange. It was scarcely noon, and I conceived that I
might as well pass the night under my own roof, as in an inn. Besides, I could
spare a day easily, to arrange matters with my landlord, and thus save myself
the trouble of invading the neighbourhood again.
Having rested a while,
I directed my senant to inquire the way to the village; and, with great fatigue
to our beasts, we managed the distance in some three hours.
I left him there, and
proceeded down the valley alone. The grey church looked greyer, and the lonely
churchyard lonelier. I distinguished a moor sheep cropping the short turf on
the graves. It was sweet, warm weather -- too warm for travelling; but the heat
did not hinder me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below; had I
seen it nearer August, I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste a month among
its solitudes. In winter, nothing more dreary, in summer, nothing more divine,
than those glens shut in by hills, and those bluff, bold swells of heath.
I reached the Grange
before sunset, and knocked for admittance; but the family had retreated into
the back premises, I judged, by one thin, blue wreath curling from the kitchen
chimney, and they did not hear. I rode into the court. Under the porch a girl
of nine or ten sat knitting, and an old woman reclined on the house-steps,
smoking a meditative pipe.
"Is Mrs. Dean
within?" I demanded of the dame.
"Mistress Dean?
Nay!" she answered, "shoo doesn't bide here; shoo's up at th'
Heights."
"Are you the
housekeeper, then?" I continued.
"Eea, aw keep th'
hause," she replied.
"Well, I'm Mr.
Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge me in, I wonder? I wish to
stay all night."
"T'maister!"
she cried in astonishment. "Whet! whoiver knew yah wur coming? Yah sud ha'
send word. They's nowt norther dry nor mensful abaht t' place, nowt there
isn't."
She threw down her pipe
and bustled in; the girl followed, and I entered too. Soon perceiving that her
report was true, and, moreover, that I had almost upset her wits by my
unwelcome apparition, I bade her be composed. I would go out for a walk, and
meantime she must try to prepare a corner of a sitting-room for me to sup in,
and a bedroom to sleep in. No sweeping and dusting -- only good fire and dry
sheets were necessary. She seemed willing to do her best, though she thrust the
hearth-brush into the grates in mistake for the poker; and malappropriated
several other articles of her craft; but I retired, confiding in her energy for
a resting-place against my return. Wuthering Heights was the goal of my
proposed excursion. An afterthought brought me back when I had quitted the
court.
"All well at the
Heights?" I inquired of the woman.
"Eea, f'r owt ee
knaw," she answered, skurrying away with a pan of hot cinders.
I would have asked why
Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange, but it was impossible to delay her at such a
crisis, so I turned away and made my exit, rambling leisurely along with the
glow of a sinking sun behind, and the mild glory of a rising moon in front --
one fading and the other brightening -- as I quitted the park and climbed the
stony by-road branching off to Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling. Before I arrived in
sight of it, all that remained of day was a beamless amber light along the
west; but I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass, by that
splendid moon. I had neither to climb the gate nor to knock; it yielded to my
hand. That is an improvement, I thought. And I noticed another by the aid of my
nostrils -- a fragrance of stocks and wallflowers wafted on the air from
amongst the homely fruit-trees.
Both doors and lattices
were open; and yet, as is usually the case in a coal district, a fine, red fire
illuminated the chimney. The comfort which the eye derives from it renders the
extra heat endurable. But the house of Wuthering Heights is so large that the
inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing out of its influence, and
accordingly what inmates there were had stationed themselves not far from one
of the windows. I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered, and
looked and listened in consequence, being moved thereto by a mingled sense of
curiosity and envy that grew as I lingered.
"Con-trary!"
said a voice as sweet as a silver bell.
"That for the
third time, you dunce! I'm not going to tell you again. Recollect, or I'll pull
your hair."
"Contrary,
then," answered another, in deep but softened tones. "And now, kiss
me for minding so well."
"No; read it over
first correctly, without a single mistake."
The male speaker began
to read. He was a young man respectably dressed and seated at a table, having a
book before him. His handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept
impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his shoulder,
which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek whenever its owner detected
such signs of inattention. Its owner stood behind, her light, shining ringlets
blending at intervals with his brown locks, as she bent to superintend his studies;
and her face -- it was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never have
been so steady. I could, and I bit my lip in spite at having thrown away the
chance I might have had of doing something besides staring at its smiting
beauty.
The task was done --
not free from further blunders; but the pupil claimed a reward, and received at
least five kisses, which, however, he generously returned. Then they came to
the door, and from their conversation I judged they were about to issue out and
have a walk on the moors. I supposed I should be condemned in Hareton
Earnshaw's heart, if not by his mouth, to the lowest pit in the infernal
regions if I showed my unfortunate person in his neighbourhood then; and
feeling very mean and malignant, I skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen.
There was unobstructed admittance on that side also, and at the door sat my old
friend Nelly Dean, sewing and singing a song, which was often interrupted from
within by harsh words of scorn and intolerance, uttered in far from musical
accents.
"I'd rayther, by
th' haulf, hev 'em swearing i' my lugs froh morn to neeght nor hearken ye
hahsiver!" said the tenant of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech
of Nelly's. "It's a blazing shame that I cannot oppen t' blessed Book but
yah set up them glories to Sattan, and all t' flaysome wickednesses that iver
were born into th' warld! Oh! ye're a raight nowt, and shoo's another, and that
poor lad'll be lost atween ye. Poor lad!" he added, with a groan;
"he's witched, I'm sartin on't! O Lord, judge 'em, for there's norther law
nor justice among wer rullers!"
"No, or we should
be sitting in flaming fagots, I suppose," retorted the singer. "But
wisht, old man, and read your Bible like a Christian, and never mind me. This
is 'Fairy Annie's Wedding' -- a bonny tune; it goes to a dance."
Mrs. Dean was about to
recommence when I advanced; and recognizing me directly, she jumped to her
feet, crying, --
"Why, bless you,
Mr. Lockwood! How could you think of returning in this way? All's shut up at
Thrushcross Grange. You should have given us notice."
"I've arranged to
be accommodated there for as long as I shall stay," I answered. "I
depart again tomorrow. And how are you transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? Tell me
that."
"Zillah left, and
Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you went to London, and stay till
you returned. But step in, pray. Have you walked from Gimmerton this
evening?"
"From the
Grange," I replied. "And while they make me lodging room there, I
want to finish my business with your master, because I don't think of having
another opportunity in a hurry."
"What business,
sir?" said Nelly, conducting me into the house. "He's gone out at
present, and won't return soon."
"About the
rent," I answered.
"Oh! then it is
with Mrs. Heathcliff you must settle," she observed, "or rather with
me. She has not learned to manage her affairs yet, and I act for her; there's
nobody else."
I looked surprised.
"Ah! you have not
heard of Heathcliff's death, I see," she continued.
"Heathcliff
dead!" I exclaimed, astonished. "How long ago?"
"Three months
since. But sit down, and let me take your hat, and I'll tell you all about it.
Stop; you have had nothing to eat, have you?"
"I want nothing; I
have ordered supper at home. You sit down too. I never dreamt of his dying. Let
me hear how it came to pass. You say you don't expect them back for some time
-- the young people?"
"No. I have to
scold them every evening for their late rambles, but they don't care for me. At
least have a drink of our old ale; it will do you good; you seem weary."
She hastened to fetch
it before I could refuse, and I heard Joseph asking whether "it warn't a
crying scandal that she should have followers at her time of life. And then, to
get them jocks out o' t' maister's cellar! He fair shaamed to 'bide still and
see it."
She did not stay to
retaliate, but re-entered in a minute, bearing a reaming silver pint, whose
contents I lauded with becoming earnestness. And afterwards she furnished me
with the sequel of Heathcliff's history. He had a "queer" end, as she
expressed it.
I was summoned to
Wuthering Heights within a fortnight of your leaving us, she said, and I obeyed
joyfully, for Catherine's sake. My first interview with her grieved and shocked
me -- she had altered so much since our separation. Mr. Heathcliff did not
explain his reasons for taking a new mind about my coming here; he only told me
he wanted me, and he was tired of seeing Catherine. I must make the little
parlour my sitting-room, and keep her with me. It was enough if he were obliged
to see her once or twice a day. She seemed pleased at this arrangement; and by
degrees I smuggled over a great number of books and other articles that had
formed her amusement at the Grange, and flattered myself we should get on in
tolerable comfort. The delusion did not last long. Catherine, contented at
first, in a brief space grew irritable and restless. For one thing, she was
forbidden to move out of the garden, and it fretted her sadly to be confined to
its narrow bounds as spring drew on; for another, in following the house I was
forced to quit her frequently, and she complained of loneliness. She preferred
quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen to sitting at peace in her solitude. I
did not mind their skirmishes; but Hareton was often obliged to seek the
kitchen also .when the master wanted to have the house to himself; and though
in the beginning she either left it at his approach, or quietly joined in my
occupations, and shunned remarking or addressing him, and though he was always
as sullen and silent as possible, after a while she changed her behaviour and
became incapable of letting him alone, talking at him, commenting on his
stupidity and idleness, expressing her wonder how he could endure the life he
lived, how he could sit a whole evening staring into the fire and dozing.
"He's just like a
dog, is he not, Ellen?" she once observed, "or a cart-horse? He does
his work, eats his food, and sleeps eternally. What a blank, dreary mind he
must have! -- Do you ever dream, Hareton? And if you do, what is it about? But
you can't speak to me!"
Then she looked at him,
but he would neither open his mouth nor look again.
"He's perhaps
dreaming now," she continued. "He twitched his shoulder as Juno twitches
hers. Ask him, Ellen."
"Mr. Hareton will
ask the master to send you upstairs, if you don't behave," I said. He had
not only twitched his shoulder but clenched his fist, as if tempted to use it.
"I know why
Hareton never speaks when I am in the kitchen," she exclaimed on another
occasion. "He is afraid I shall laugh at him. Ellen, what do you think? He
began to teach himself to read once, and because I laughed he burned his books and
dropped it. Was he not a fool?"
"Were not you
naughty?" I said. "Answer me that."
"Perhaps I
was," she went on, "but I did not expect him to be so silly --
Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try."
She placed one she had
been perusing on his hand. He flung it off, and muttered, if she did not give
over he would break her neck.
"Well, I shall put
it here," she said -- "in the table drawer; and I'm going to
bed."
Then she whispered me
to watch whether he touched it, and departed. But he would not come near it;
and so I informed her in the morning, to her great disappointment. I saw she
was sorry for his persevering sulkiness and indolence. Her conscience reproved
her for frightening him off improving himself. She had done it effectually. But
her ingenuity was at work to remedy the injury. While I ironed or pursued other
such stationary employments as I could not well do in the parlour, she would
bring some pleasant volume and read it aloud to me. When Hareton was there she
generally paused in an interesting part and left the book lying about -- that
she did repeatedly; but he was as obstinate as a mule, and, instead of
snatching at her bait, in wet weather he took to smoking with Joseph; and they
sat like automatons, one on each side of the fire, the elder happily too deaf
to understand her wicked nonsense, as he would have called it, the younger
doing his best to seem to disregard it. On fine evenings the latter followed
his shooting expeditions, and Catherine yawned and sighed, and teased me to
talk to her, and ran off into the court or garden the moment I began, and as a
last resource cried and said she was tired of living -- her life was useless.
Mr. Heathcliff, who
grew more and more disinclined to society, had almost banished Earnshaw from
his apartment. Owing to an accident at the commencement of March, he became for
some days a fixture in the kitchen. His gun burst while out on the hills by
himself; a splinter cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he
could reach home. The consequence was that, perforce, he was condemned to the
fireside and tranquillity till he made it up again. It suited Catherine to have
him there. At any rate, it made her hate her room upstairs more than ever; and
she would compel me to find out business below, that she might accompany me.
On Easter Monday Joseph
went to Gimmerton fair with some cattle, and in the afternoon I was busy
getting up linen in the kitchen. Earnshaw sat, morose as usual, at the
chimney-corner, and my little mistress was beguiling an idle hour with drawing
pictures on the window panes, varying her amusement by smothered bursts of
songs, and whispered ejaculations, and quick glances of annoyance and
impatience in the direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and looked into
the grate. At a notice that I could do with her no longer intercepting my
light, she removed to the hearthstone. I bestowed little attention on her
proceedings, but presently I heard her begin, --
"I've found out,
Hareton, that I want -- that I'm glad -- that I should like you to be my cousin
now, if you had not grown so cross to me and so rough."
Hareton returned no
answer.
"Hareton, Hareton,
Hareton! do you hear?" she continued.
"Get off wi'
ye!" he growled, with uncompromising gruffness.
"Let me take that
pipe," she said, cautiously advancing her hand and abstracting it from his
mouth. Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken and behind the
fire. He swore at her and seized another.
"Stop," she
cried; "you must listen to me first; and I can't speak while those clouds
are floating in my face."
"Will you go to
the devil" he exclaimed ferociously,
"and let me
be!"
"No," she
persisted, "I won't. I can't tell what to do to make you talk to me, and
you are determined not to understand. When I call you stupid, I don't mean
anything. I don't mean that I despise you. Come, you shall take notice of me,
Hareton. You are my cousin, and you shall own me."
"I shall have
naught to do wi' you and your mucky pride, and your damned mocking tricks!"
he answered.
"I'll go to hell,
body and soul, before I look sideways after you again. Side out o' t' gate now,
this minute!"
Catherine frowned and
retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip, and endeavouring, by humming an
eccentric tune, to conceal a growing tendency to sob.
"You should be
friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton," I interrupted, "since she
repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal of good; it would make
you another man to have her for a companion."
"A companion!"
he cried, "when she hates me, and does not think me fit to wipe her shoon!
Nay! if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned for seeking her good-will any
more."
"It is not I who
hate you; it is you who hate me!" wept Cathy, no longer disguising her
trouble. "You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff does, and more."
"You're a damned
liar," began Earnshaw. "Why have I made him angry by taking your
part, then, a hundred times, and that when you sneered at and despised me, and
---- Go on plaguing me, and I'll step in yonder and say you worried me out of
the kitchen."
"I didn't know you
took my part," she answered, drying her eyes, "and I was miserable
and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me. What
can I do besides?"
She returned to the
hearth, and frankly extended her hand. He blackened and scowled like a
thundercloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the
ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have divined it was obdurate perversity,
and not dislike, that prompted this dogged conduct, for, after remaining an
instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle kiss. The
little rogue thought I had not seen her, and drawing back, she took her former
station by the window, quite demurely. I shook my head reprovingly, and then
she blushed and whispered, --
"Well, what should
I have done, Ellen? He wouldn't shake hands, and he wouldn't look; I must show
him some way that I like him -- that I want to be friends."
Whether the kiss
convinced Hareton I cannot tell. He was very careful, for some minutes, that
his face should not be seen; and when he did raise it, he was sadly puzzled
where to turn his eyes.
Catherine employed
herself in wrapping a handsome book neatly in white paper, and having tied it
with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it to "Mr. Hareton Earnshaw," she
desired me to be her ambassadress, and convey the present to its destined
recipient.
"And tell him if
he'll take it I'll come and teach him to read it right," she said;
"and if he refuse it I'll go upstairs and never tease him again."
I carried it, and
repeated the message, anxiously watched by my employer. Hareton would not open
his fingers, so I laid it on his knee. He did not strike it off either. I
returned to my work. Catherine leaned her head and arms on the table, till she
heard the slight rustle of the covering being removed; then she stole away and
quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his face glowed; all
his rudeness and all his surly harshness had deserted him. He could not summon
courage at first to utter a syllable in reply to her questioning look and her
murmured petition, --
"Say you forgive
me, Hareton, do. You can make me so happy by speaking that little word."
He muttered something
inaudible.
"And you'll be my
friend?" added Catherine interrogatively.
"Nay, you'll be
ashamed of me every day of your life," he answered, "and the more
ashamed the more you know me; and I cannot bide it."
"So you won't be my
friend?" she said, smiling as sweet as honey, and creeping close up.
I overheard no further
distinguishable talk, but, on looking round again, I perceived two such radiant
countenances bent over the page of the accepted book that I did not doubt the treaty
had been ratified on both sides, and the enemies were thenceforth sworn allies.
The work they studied
was full of costly pictures, and those and their position had charm enough to
keep them unmoved till Joseph came home. He, poor man, was perfectly aghast at
the spectacle of Catherine seated on the same bench with Hareton Earnshaw,
leaning her hand on his shoulder, and confounded at his favourite's endurance
of her proximity; it affected him too deeply to allow an observation on the
subject that night. His emotion was only revealed by the immense sighs he drew
as he solemnly spread his large Bible on the table, and overlaid it with dirty
bank-notes from his pocket-book, the produce of the day's transactions. At
length he summoned Hareton from his seat.
"Tak' these in to
t' maister, lad," he said, "and bide there. I's gang up to my own
rahm. This hoile's neither mensful nor seemly for us; we mun side out and
seearch another."
"Come,
Catherine," I said, "we must 'side out' too. I've done my ironing.
Are you ready to go?"
"It is not eight
o'clock," she answered, rising unwillingly -- "Hareton, I'll leave
this book upon the chimney-piece, and I'll bring some more to-morrow."
"Ony books that
yah leave I shall tak' into th' hahse," said Joseph, "and it'll be
mitch if yah find 'em agean. Soa yah may plase yerseln."
Cathy threatened that
his library should pay for hers, and smiling as she passed Hareton, went
singing upstairs, lighter of heart, I venture to say, than ever she had been
under that roof before, except, perhaps, during her earliest visits to Linton.
The intimacy thus
commenced grew rapidly, though it encountered temporary interruptions. Earnshaw
was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher and
no paragon of patience; but both their minds tending to the same point -- one
loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed
-- they contrived in the end to reach it.
You see, Mr. Lockwood,
it was easy enough to win Mrs. Heathcliff's heart. -- But now I'm glad you did
not try. The crown of all my wishes will be the union of those two. I shall
envy no one on their wedding-day. There won't be a happier woman than myself in
England.
On the morrow of that
Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to follow his ordinary employments, and,
therefore, remaining about the house, I speedily found it would be
impracticable to retain my charge beside me, as heretofore.
She got down stairs
before me, and out into the garden, where she had seen her cousin performing
some easy work; and when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I saw she had
persuaded him to clear a large space of ground from currant and gooseberry
bushes, and they were busy planning together an importation of plants from the
Grange.
I was terrified at the
devastation which had been accomplished in a brief half hour; the black currant
trees were the apple of Joseph's eye, and she had just fixed her choice of a
flower bed in the midst of them !
"There ! That will
be all shewn to the master," I exclaimed, "the minute it is
discovered. And what excuse have you to offer for taking such liberties with
the garden? We shall have a fine explosion on the head of it: see if we don't !
Mr. Hareton, I wonder you should have no more wit, than to go and make that
mess at her bidding !"
"I'd forgotten
they were Joseph's," answered Earnshaw, rather puzzled, "but I'll
tell him I did it."
We always ate our meals
with Mr. Heathcliff. I held the mistress's post in making tea and carving; so I
was indispensable at table. Catherine usually sat by me; but to-day' she stole
nearer to Hareton, and I presently saw she would have no more discretion in her
friendship, than she had in her hostility.
"Now, mind you
don't talk with and notice your cousin too much," were my whispered
instructions as we entered the room. "It will certainly annoy Mr.
Heathcliff, and he'll be mad at you both."
"I'm not going
to," she answered.
The minute after, she
had sidled to him, and was sticking primroses in his plate of porridge.
He dared not speak to
her there -- he dared hardly look; and yet she went on teasing till he was
twice on the point of being provoked to laugh. I frowned, and then she glanced
toward the master, whose mind was occupied on other subjects than his company,
as his countenance evinced; and she grew serious for an instant, scrutinizing
him with deep gravity. Afterwards she turned and recommenced her nonsense. At
last Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr. Heathcliff started; his eye rapidly
surveyed our faces. Catherine met it with her accustomed look of nervousness
and yet defiance, which he abhorred.
"It is well you
are out of my reach," he exclaimed.
"What fiend
possesses you to stare back at me continually with those infernal eyes? Down
with them! and don't remind me of your existence again. I thought I had cured
you of laughing."
"It was me,"
muttered Hareton.
"What do you
say?" demanded the master.
Hareton looked at his
plate, and did not repeat the confession. Mr. Heathcliff looked at him a bit,
and then silently resumed his breakfast and his interrupted musing. We had
nearly finished, and the two young people prudently shifted wider asunder, so I
anticipated no further disturbance during that sitting, when Joseph appeared at
the door, revealing by his quivering lip and furious eyes that the outrage
committed on his precious shrubs was detected. He must have seen Cathy and her
cousin about the spot before he examined it, for while his jaws worked like
those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered his speech difficult to
understand, he began, --
"I mun hev my
wage, and I mun goa. I hed aimed to dee wheare I'd sarved fur sixty year, and I
thowt I'd lug my books up into t' garret, and all my bits o' stuff, and they
sud hev t' kitchen to theirseln, for t' sake o' quietness. It wur hard to gie
up my awn hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that. But nah; shoo's taan my
garden fro' me, and by th' heart, maister, I cannot stand it. Yah may bend to
th' yoak, and ye will; I noan used to't, and an old man doesn't sooin get used
to new barthens. I'd rayther arn my bite an' my sup wi' a hammer in th'
road."
"Now, now,
idiot," interrupted Heathcliff, "cut it short! What's your grievance?
I'll interfere in no quarrels between you and Nelly. She may thrust you into
the coal-hole for anything I care."
"It's noan
Nelly," answered Joseph. "I sudn't shift for Nelly, nasty ill nowt as
shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannot stale t' sowl o' nob'dy! Shoo wer niver soa
handsome but what a body mud look at her 'bout winking. It's yon flaysome,
graceless quean that's witched our lad wi' her bold een and her forrard ways,
till ---- Nay, it fair brusts my heart! He's forgotten all I've done for him,
and made on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o' t' grandest currant trees
i' t' garden!" And here he lamented outright, unmanned by a sense of his
bitter injuries and Earnshaw's ingratitude and dangerous condition.
"Is the fool
drunk?" asked Mr. Heathcliff. -- "Hareton, is it you he's finding
fault with?"
"I've pulled up
two or three bushes," replied the young man, "but I'm going to set
'em again."
"And why have you
pulled them up?" said the master.
Catherine wisely put in
her tongue.
"We wanted to
plant some flowers there," she cried.
"I'm the only
person to blame, for I wished him to do it."
"And who the devil
gave you leave to touch a stick about the place?" demanded her
father-in-law, much surprised -- "And who ordered you to obey her?"
he added, turning to Hareton.
The latter was
speechless. His cousin replied, --
"You shouldn't
grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornament, when you have taken all my
land!"
"Your land,
insolent slut! You never had any," said Heathcliff.
"And my
money," she continued, returning his angry glare, and meantime biting a
piece of crust, the remnant of her breakfast.
"Silence!" he
exclaimed. "Get done, and begone!"
"And Hareton's
land, and his money," pursued the reckless thing. "Hareton and I are
friends now, and I shall tell him all about you."
The master seemed
confounded a moment. He grew pale and rose up, eyeing her all the while with an
expression of mortal hate.
"If you strike me,
Hareton will strike you," she said, "so you may as well sit
down."
"If Hareton does
not turn you out of the room I'll strike him to hell," thundered
Heathcliff. "Damnable witch! dare you pretend to rouse him against me? --
Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the kitchen! -- I'll kill her, Ellen
Dean, if you let her come into my sight again!"
Hareton tried, under
his breath, to persuade her to go.
"Drag her
away!" he cried savagely. "Are you staying to talk?" And he
approached to execute his own command.
"He'll not obey
you, wicked man, any more," said Catherine, "and he'll soon detest
you as much as I do."
"Wisht!
wisht!" muttered the young man reproachfully. "I will not hear you
speak so to him. Have done."
"But you won't let
him strike me?" she cried. "Come, then," he whispered earnestly.
It was too late.
Heathcliff had caught hold of her.
"Now, you
go!" he said to Earnshaw. "Accursed witch! this time she has provoked
me when I could not bear it, and I'll make her repent it for ever!"
He had his hand in her
hair. Hareton attempted to release her locks, entreating him not to hurt her
that once. Heathcliff's black eyes flashed -- he seemed ready to tear Catherine
in pieces; and I was just worked up to risk coming to the rescue, when of a sudden
his fingers relaxed; he shifted his grasp from her head to her arm, and gazed
intently in her face. Then he drew his hand over her eyes, stood a moment to
collect himself apparently, and turning anew to Catherine, said with assumed
calmness, "You must learn to avoid putting me in a passion, or I shall
really murder you some time! Go with Mrs. Dean, and keep with her, and confine
your insolence to her ears. As to Hareton Earnshaw, if I see him listen to you
I'll send him seeking his bread where he can get it. Your love will make him an
outcast and a beggar. -- Nelly, take her; and leave me, all of you! -- leave
me!"
I led my young lady
out. She was too glad of her escape to resist. The other followed, and Mr.
Heathcliff had the room to himself till dinner. I had counselled Catherine to
dine upstairs, but as soon as he perceived her vacant seat he sent me to call
her. He spoke to none of us, ate very little, and went out directly afterwards,
intimating that he should not return before evening.
The two new friends
established themselves in the house during his absence, when I heard Hareton
sternly check his cousin on her offering a revelation of her father-in-law's
conduct to his father. He said he wouldn't suffer a word to be uttered in his
disparagement. lf he were the devil, it didn't signify -- he would stand by
him; and he'd rather she would abuse himself, as she used to, than begin on Mr.
Heathcliff. Catherine was waxing cross at this, but he found means to make her
hold her tongue by asking how she would like him to speak ill of her father.
Then she comprehended that Earnshaw took the master's reputation home to
himself, and was attached by ties stronger than reason could break -- chains
forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen. She showed a
good heart, thenceforth, in avoiding both complaints and expressions of
antipathy concerning Heathcliff, and confessed to me her sorrow that she had
endeavoured to raise a bad spirit between him and Hareton. Indeed, I don't
believe she has ever breathed a syllable, in the latter's hearing, against her
oppressor since.
When this slight
disagreement was over, they were friends again, and as busy as possible in
their several occupations of pupil and teacher. I came in to sit with them
after I had done my work, and I felt so soothed and comforted to watch them
that I did not notice how time got on. You know they both appeared in a measure
my children. I had long been proud of one, and now I was sure the other would
be a source of equal satisfaction. His honest, warm, and intelligent nature
shook off rapidly the clouds of ignorance and degradation in which it had been
bred, and Catherine's sincere commendations acted as a spur to his industry.
His brightening mind brightened his features, and added spirit and nobility to
their aspect. I could hardly fancy it the same individual I had beheld on the
day I discovered my little lady at Wuthering Heights, after her expedition to
the Crags. While I admired and they laboured, dusk drew on, and with it returned
the master. He came upon us quite unexpectedly, entering by the front way, and
had a full view of the whole three ere we could raise our heads to glance at
him. Well, I reflected, there was never a pleasanter or more harmless sight,
and it will be a burning shame to scold them. The red firelight glowed on their
two bonny heads, and revealed their faces animated with the eager interest of
children; for though he was twenty-three and she eighteen, each had so much of
novelty to feel and learn that neither experienced nor evinced the sentiments
of sober, disenchanted maturity.
They lifted their eyes
together, to encounter Mr. Heathcliff. Perhaps you have never remarked that
their eyes are precisely similar, and they are those of Catherine Earnshaw. The
present Catherine has no other likeness to her, except a breadth of forehead
and a certain arch of the nostril that makes her appear rather haughty, whether
she will or not. With Hareton the resemblance is carried further. It is
singular at all times; then it was particularly striking, because his senses
were alert, and his mental faculties wakened to unwonted activity. I suppose
this resemblance disarmed Mr. Heathcliff. He walked to the hearth in evident
agitation, but it quickly subsided as he looked at the young man -- or, I
should say, altered its character, for it was there yet. He took the book from
his hand and glanced at the open page, then returned it without any
observation, merely signing Catherine away. Her companion lingered very little
behind her; and I was about to depart also, but he bade me sit still.
"It is a poor
conclusion, is it not?" he observed, having brooded a while on the scene
he had just witnessed -- "an absurd termination to my violent exertions? I
get levers and mattocks to demolish the two houses, and train myself to be
capable of working like Hercules, and when everything is ready and in my power
I find the will to lift a slate of either roof has vanished! My old enemies
have not beaten me. Now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their
representatives. I could do it, and none could hinder me. But where is the use?
I don't care for striking; I can't take the trouble to raise my hand. That
sounds as if I had been labouring the whole time only to exhibit a fine trait of
magnanimity. It is far from being the case. I have lost the faculty of enjoying
their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.
"Nelly, there is a
strange change approaching; I'm in its shadow at present. I take so little
interest in my daily life that I hardly remember to eat and drink. Those two
who have left the room are the only objects which retain a distinct material
appearance to me, and that appearance causes me pain, amounting to agony. About
her I won't speak, and I don't desire to think, but I earnestly wish she were
invisible. Her presence invokes only maddening sensations. He moves me
differently; and yet if I could do it without seeming insane, I'd never see him
again. You'll perhaps think me rather inclined to become so," he added,
making an effort to smile, "if I try to describe the thousand forms of
past associations and ideas he awakens or embodies. But you'll not talk of what
I tell you; and my mind is so eternally secluded in itself, it is tempting at
last to turn it out to another.
"Five minutes ago
Hareton seemed a personification of my youth, not a human being. I felt to him
in such a variety of ways that it would have been impossible to have accosted
him rationally."
"In the first
place, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her.
That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination,
is actually the least; for what is not connected with her to me? and what does
not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor but her features are shaped in
the flags. In every cloud, in every tree -- filling the air at night, and
caught by glimpses in every object by day -- I am surrounded with her image.
The most ordinary faces of men and women -- my own features -- mock me with a resemblance.
The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and
that I have lost her. Well, Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love,
of my wild endeavours to hold my right, my degradation, my pride, my happiness,
and my anguish ----
"But it is frenzy
to repeat these thoughts to you; only it will let you know why, with a
reluctance to be always alone, his society is no benefit, rather an aggravation
of the constant torment I suffer; and it partly contributes to render me
regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I can give them no attention
any more."
"But what do you
mean by a change, Mr. Heathcliff?" I said, alarmed at his manner, though
he was neither in danger of losing his senses nor dying, according to my judgment.
He was quite strong and healthy; and as to his reason, from childhood he had a
delight in dwelling on dark things and entertaining odd fancies. He might have
had a monomania on the subject of his departed idol, but on every other point
his wits were as sound as mine.
"I shall not know
that till it comes," he said, "I'm only half conscious of it
now."
"You have no
feeling of illness, have you?" I asked.
"No, Nelly, I have
not," he answered.
"Then you are not
afraid of death?" I pursued.
"Afraid? No!"
he replied. "I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of
death. Why should I? With my hard constitution, and temperate mode of living,
and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall, remain above ground
till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in
this condition. I have to remind myself to breathe, almost to remind my heart
to beat. And it is like bending back a stiff spring; it is by compulsion that I
do the slightest act not prompted by one thought, and by compulsion that I
notice anything alive or dead which is not associated with one universal idea.
I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain
it. They have yearned towards it so long and so unwaveringly that I'm convinced
it will be reached -- and soon -- because it has devoured my existence. I am
swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not
relieved me, but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of
humour which I show. -- O God! it is a long fight, I wish it were over!"
He began to pace the
room, muttering terrible things to himself, till I was inclined to believe, as
he said Joseph did, that conscience had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I
wondered greatly how it would end. Though he seldom before had revealed his
state of mind, even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt. He
asserted it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have
conjectured the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr. Lockwood; and at the
period of which I speak he was just the same as then, only fonder of continued
solitude, and perhaps still more laconic in company.
For some days after
that evening, Mr. Heathcliff shunned meeting us at meals; yet he would not
consent, formally, to exclude Hareton and Cathy. He had an aversion to yielding
so completely to his feelings, choosing rather to absent himself -- And eating
once in twenty-four hours seemed sufficient sustenance for him.
One night, after the
family were in bed, I heard him go down stairs, and out at the front door: I
did not hear him re-enter and, in the morning, I found he was still away.
We were in April then:
the weather was sweet and warm, the grass as green as showers and sun could
make it, and the two dwarf apple trees, near the southern wall, in full bloom.
After breakfast,
Catherine insisted on my bringing a chair, and sitting, with my work, under the
fir trees at the end of the house; and she beguiled Hareton, who had perfectly
recovered from his accident, to dig and arrange her little garden, which was
shifted to that corner by the influence of Joseph's complaints.
I was comfortably
revelling in the spring fragrance around, and the beautiful soft blue overhead,
when my young lady, who had run down near the gate to procure some primrose
roots for a border, returned only half laden, and informed us that Mr.
Heathcliff was coming in.
"And he spoke to
me," she added, with a perplexed countenance.
"What did he say
?" asked Hareton.
"He told me to
begone as fast as I could," she answered. "But he looked so different
from his usual look that I stopped a moment to stare at him."
"How ?" he
enquired.
"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-humour.
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 dare say 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."
I obeyed, and in
passing I noticed he breathed as fast as a cat.
"Yes," I
reflected to myself, "we shall have a fit of illness. I cannot conceive
what he has been doing."
That noon he sat down
to dinner with us, and received a heaped-up plate from my hands, as if he
intended to make amends for previous fasting.
"I've neither cold
nor fever, Nelly," he remarked, in allusion to my morning's speech,
"and I'm ready to do justice to the food you give me."
He took his knife and
fork, and was going to commence eating, when the inclination appeared to become
suddenly extinct. He laid them on the table, looked eagerly towards the window,
then rose and went out.
We saw him walking to
and fro in the garden while we concluded our meal, and Earnshaw said he'd go
and ask why he would not dine; he thought we had grieved him some way.
"Well, is he
coming?" cried Catherine, when her cousin returned.
"Nay," he
answered; "but he's not angry. He seemed rarely pleased indeed; only I
made him impatient by speaking to him twice, and then he bade me be off to you.
He wondered how I could want the company of anybody else."
I set his plate to keep
warm on the fender, and after an hour or two he re-entered, when the room was
clear, in no degree calmer -- the same unnatural (it was unnatural) appearance
of joy under his black brows; the same bloodless hue, and his teeth visible,
now and then, in a kind of smile; his frame shivering -- not as one shivers
with chill or weakness, but as a tight-stretched cord vibrates -- a strong
thrilling rather than trembling.
I will ask what is the
matter, I thought; or who should? And I exclaimed, --
"Have you heard
any good news, Mr. Heathcliff? You look uncommonly animated."
"Where should good
news come from to me?" he said. "I'm animated with hunger, and
seemingly I must not eat."
"Your dinner is
here," I returned; "why won't you get it?"
"I don't want it
now," he muttered hastily. "I'll wait till supper. And, Nelly, once
for all, let me beg you to warn Hareton and the other away from me. I wish to
be troubled by nobody. I wish to have this place to myself."
"Is there some new
reason for this banishment?" I inquired. "Tell me why you are so
queer, Mr. Heathcliff. Where were you last night? I'm not putting the question
through idle curiosity, but ---- "
"You are putting
the question through very idle curiosity," he interrupted, with a laugh.
"Yes, I'll answer it. Last night I was on the threshold of hell. Today I
am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it -- hardly three feet to
sever me. And now you'd better go. You'll neither see nor hear anything to
frighten you if you refrain from prying."
Having swept the hearth
and wiped the table, I departed, more perplexed than ever.
He did not quit the
house again that afternoon, and no one intruded on his solitude, till, at eight
o'clock, I deemed it proper, though unsummoned, to carry a candle and his
supper to him. He was leaning against the ledge of an open lattice, but not
looking out; his face was turned to the interior gloom. The fire had smouldered
to ashes; the room was filled with the damp, mild air of the cloudy evening,
and so still that not only the murmur of the beck down Gimmerton was distinguishable,
but its ripples and its gurgling over the pebbles, or through the large stones
which it could not cover. I uttered an ejaculation of discontent at seeing the
dismal grate, and commenced shutting the casements, one after another, till I
came to his.
"Must I close
this?" I asked, in order to rouse him, for he would not stir.
The light flashed on
his features as I spoke. O Mr. Lockwood, I cannot express what a terrible start
I got by the momentary view -- those deep black eyes, that smile and ghastly
paleness! It appeared to me not Mr. Heathcliff, but a goblin; and in my terror
I let the candle bend towards the wall, and it left me in darkness.
"Yes, close
it," he replied, in his familiar voice.
"There, that is
pure awkwardness! Why did you hold the candle horizontally? Be quick, and bring
another."
I hurried out in a
foolish state of dread, and said to Joseph, --
"The master wishes
you to take him a light and rekindle the fire." For I dare not go in
myself again just then.
Joseph rattled some
fire into the shovel, and went; but he brought it back immediately with the
supper-tray in his other hand, explaining that Mr. Heathcliff was going to bed,
and he wanted nothing to eat till morning. We heard him mount the stairs
directly. He did not proceed to his ordinary chamber, but turned into that with
the panelled bed. Its window, as I mentioned before, is wide enough for anybody
to get through; and it struck me that he plotted another midnight excursion, of
which he had rather we had no suspicion.
"Is he a ghoul or
a vampire?" I mused. I had read of such hideous incarnate demons. And then
I set myself to reflect how I had tended him in infancy, and watched him grow
to youth, and followed him almost through his whole course, and what absurd
nonsense it was to yield to that sense of horror. "But where did he come
from, the little dark thing, harboured by a good man to his bane?"
muttered Superstition, as I dozed into unconsciousness. And I began, half
dreaming, to weary myself with imagining some fit parentage for him; and
repeating my waking meditations, I tracked his existence over again, with grim
variations, at last picturing his death and funeral, of which all I can
remember is being exceedingly vexed at having the task of dictating an
inscription for his monument, and consulting the sexton about it; and as he had
no surname, and we could not tell his age, we were obliged to content ourselves
with the single word, "Heathcliff." That came true; we were. If you
enter the kirkyard you'll read on his headstone only that, and the date of his
death.
Dawn restored me to
common-sense. I rose and went into the garden as soon as I could see, to
ascertain if there were any footmarks under his window. There were none.
"He has stayed at home," I thought, "and he'll be all right
to-day." I prepared breakfast for the household, as was my usual custom,
but told Hareton and Catherine to get theirs ere the master came down, for he
lay late. They preferred taking it out of doors, under the trees, and I set a
little table to accommodate them.
On my re-entrance I
found Mr. Heathcliff below. He and Joseph were conversing about some farming
business. He gave clear, minute directions concerning the matter discussed, but
he spoke rapidly, and turned his head continually aside, and had the same
excited expression, even more exaggerated. When Joseph quitted the room he took
his seat in the place he generally chose, and I put a basin of coffee before
him. He drew it nearer, and then rested his arms on the table and looked at the
opposite wall, as I supposed, surveying one particular portion, up and down,
with glittering, restless eyes, and with such eager interest that he stopped
breathing during half a minute together.
"Come now," I
exclaimed, pushing some bread against his hand, "eat and drink that while
it is hot; it has been waiting near an hour."
He didn't notice me,
and yet he smiled. I'd rather have seen him gnash his teeth than smile so.
"Mr. Heathcliff!
master!" I cried, "don't, for God's sake, stare as if you saw an
unearthly vision."
"Don't, for God's
sake, shout so loud," he replied.
"Turn round and
tell me -- are we by ourselves?"
"Of course,"
was my answer -- "of course we are."
Still I involuntarily
obeyed him, as if I was not quite sure. With a sweep of his hand he cleared a
vacant space in front among the breakfast things, and leant forward to gaze
more at his ease.
Now I perceived he was
not looking at the wall, for when I regarded him alone it seemed exactly that
he gazed at something within two yards' distance. And whatever it was, it
communicated apparently both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes -- at
least the anguished yet raptured expression of his countenance suggested that
idea. The fancied object was not fixed either; his eyes pursued it with
unwearied diligence, and, even in speaking to me, were never weaned away. I
vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food. If he stirred to
touch anything in compliance with my entreaties, if he stretched his hand out
to get a piece of bread, his fingers clenched before they reached it, and
remained on the table, forgetful of their aim. I sat, a model of patience,
trying to attract his absorbed attention from its engrossing speculation, till
he grew irritable, and got up, asking why I would not allow him to have his own
time in taking his meals, and saying that on the next occasion I needn't wait
-- L might set the things down and go. Having uttered these words he left the
house, slowly sauntered down the garden path, and disappeared through the gate.
The hours crept anxiously by; another evening came. I did not retire to rest
till late, and when I did I could not sleep. He returned after midnight, and
instead of going to bed, shut himself into the room beneath. I listened and
tossed about, and finally dressed and descended. It was too irksome to lie
there harassing my brain with a hundred idle misgivings.
I distinguished Mr.
Heathcliff's step restlessly measuring the floor, and he frequently broke the
silence by a deep inspiration resembling a groan. He muttered detached words
also. The only one I could catch was the name of Catherine, coupled with some
wild term of endearment or suffering, and spoken as one would speak to a person
present -- low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul. I had not
courage to walk straight into the apartment, but I desired to divert him from
his reverie, and therefore fell foul of the kitchen fire, stirred it, and began
to scrape the cinders. It drew him forth sooner than I expected. He opened the
door immediately, and said, --
"Nelly, come here.
Is it morning? Come in with your light."
"It is striking
four," I answered. "You want a candle to take upstairs. You might
have lit one at this fire."
"No, I don't wish
to go upstairs," he said. "Come in and kindle me a fire, and do
anything there is to do about the room."
"I must blow the
coals red first before I can carry any," I replied, getting a chair and
the bellows.
He roamed to and fro,
meantime, in a state approaching distraction, his heavy sighs succeeding each
other so thick as to leave no space for common breathing between.
"When day breaks
I'll send for Green," he said. "I wish to make some legal inquiries
of him while I can bestow a thought on those matters, and while I can act
calmly. I have not written my will yet, and how to leave my property I cannot
determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth."
"I would not talk
so, Mr. Heathcliff," I interposed. "Let your will be a while; you'll
be spared to repent of your many injustices yet. I never expected that your
nerves would be disordered. They are at present marvellously so, however, and
almost entirely through your own fault. The way you've passed these three last
days might knock up a Titan. Do take some food and some repose. You need only
look at yourself in a glass to see how you require both. Your cheeks are
hollow, and your eyes bloodshot, like a person starving with hunger and going
blind with loss of sleep."
"It is not my
fault that I cannot eat or rest," he replied. "I assure you it is
through no settled designs. I'll do both as soon as I possibly can. But you
might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest within arm's length of the
shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest. Well, never mind Mr. Green.
As to repenting of my injustices, I've done no injustice, and I repent of
nothing. I'm too happy; and yet I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my
body, but does not satisfy itself."
"Happy,
master?" I cried. "Strange happiness! If you would hear me without
being angry, I might offer some advice that would make you happier."
"What is
that?" he asked. "Give it."
"You are aware,
Mr. Heathcliff," I said, "that from the time you were thirteen years
old you have lived a selfish, unchristian life, and probably hardly had a Bible
in your hands during all that period. You must have forgotten the contents of
the book, and you may not have space to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send
for some one (some minister of any denomination -- it does not matter which) to
explain it, and show you how very far you have erred from its precepts, and how
unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change takes place before you
die?"
"I'm rather obliged
than angry, Nelly," he said, "for you remind me of the manner in
which I desire to be buried. It is to be carried to the churchyard in the
evening. "You and Hareton may, if you please, accompany me; and mind
particularly to notice that the sexton obeys my directions concerning the two
coffins. No minister need come, nor need anything be said over me. I tell you I
have nearly attained my heaven, and that of others is altogether unvalued and
uncoveted by me."
"And supposing you
persevered in your obstinate fast, and died by that means, and they refused to
bury you in the precincts of the kirk?" I said, shocked at his godless
indifference. "How would you like it?"
"They won't do
that," he replied. "If they did, you must have me removed secretly;
and if you neglect it you shall prove, practically, that the dead are not
annihilated."
As soon as he heard the
other members of the family stirring he retired to his den, and I breathed
freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph and Hareton were at their work, he
came into the kitchen again, and with a wild look bade me come and sit in the
house; he wanted somebody with him. I declined, telling him plainly that his
strange talk and manner frightened me, and I had neither the nerve nor the will
to be his companion alone.
"I believe you
think me a fiend," he said, with his dismal laugh -- "something too
horrible to live under a decent roof." Then turning to Catherine, who was
there, and who drew behind me at his approach, he added, half sneeringly,
"Will you come, chuck? I'll not hurt you. No! To you I've made myself
worse than the devil. Well, there is one who won't shrink from my company. By
God, she's relentless! Oh, damn it! It's unutterably too much for flesh and blood
to bear -- even mine."
He solicited the
society of no one more. At dusk he went into his chamber. Through the whole
night, and far into the morning, we heard him groaning and murmuring to
himself. Hareton was anxious to enter, but I bade him fetch Mr. Kenneth, and he
should go in and see him. When he came, and I requested admittance and tried to
open the door, I found it locked, and Heathcliff bade us be damned. He was
better, and would be left alone; so the doctor went away.
The following evening was
very wet -- indeed it poured down till day-dawn; and as I took my morning walk
round the house I observed the master's window swinging open, and the rain
driving straight in. He cannot be in bed, I thought; those showers would drench
him through. He must either be up or out. But I'll make no more ado; I'll go
boldly and look."
Having succeeded in
obtaining entrance with another key, I ran to unclose the panels, for the
chamber was vacant. Quickly pushing them aside, I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was
there, laid on his back. His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and
then he seemed to smile. I could not think him dead; but his face and throat
were washed with rain, the bedclothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The
lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the sill. No
blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my fingers to it I could
doubt no more -- he was dead and stark!
I hasped the window; I
combed his black long hair from his forehead; I tried to close his eyes -- to
extinguish, if possible, that frightful, life-like gaze of exultation before
any one else beheld it. They would not shut -- they seemed to sneer at my
attempts; and his parted lips and sharp white teeth sneered too. Taken with
another fit of cowardice, I cried out for Joseph. Joseph shuffled up and made a
noise, but resolutely refused to meddle with him.
"Th' divil's
harried off his soul," he cried, "and he may hev his carcass into t'
bargain for aught I care! Ech! what a wicked un he looks girning at
death!" and the old sinner grinned in mockery. I thought he intended to
cut a caper round the bed; but suddenly composing himself, he fell on his
knees, and raised his hands, and returned thanks that the lawful master and the
ancient stock were restored to their rights.
I felt stunned by the
awful event, and my memory unavoidably recurred to former times with a sort of
oppressive sadness. But poor Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one who
really suffered much. He sat by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter
earnest. He pressed its hand, and kissed the sarcastic, savage face that every
one else shrank from contemplating, and bemoaned him with that strong grief
which springs naturally from a generous heart, though it be tough as tempered
steel.
Mr. Kenneth was
perplexed to pronounce of what disorder the master died. I concealed the fact
of his having swallowed nothing for four days, fearing it might lead to
trouble; and then I am persuaded he did not abstain on purpose -- it was the
consequence of his strange illness, not the cause.
We buried him, to the
scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he wished. Earnshaw and I, the sexton,
and six men to carry the coffin, comprehended the whole attendance. The six men
departed when they had let it down into the grave. We stayed to see it covered.
Hareton, with a streaming face, dug green sods and laid them over the brown
mould himself. At present it is as smooth and verdant as its companion mounds,
and I hope its tenant sleeps as soundly. But the country folks, if you ask
them, would swear on the Bible that he walks. There are those who speak to
having met him near the church, and on the moor, and even within this house.
Idle tales, you'll say, and so say I. Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms
he has seen two on 'em, looking out of his chamber window, on every rainy night
since his death. And an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going
to the Grange one evening -- a dark evening, threatening thunder; and just at
the turn of the Heights I encountered a little boy with a sheep and two lambs
before him. He was crying terribly, and I supposed the lambs were skittish and
would not be guided.
"What is the
matter, my little man?" I asked.
"There's
Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t' nab," he blubbered, "un I
darnut pass 'em."
I saw nothing; but
neither the sheep nor he would go on, so I bade him take the road lower down.
He probably raised the
phantoms from thinking, as he traversed the moors alone, on the nonsense he had
heard his parents and companions repeat. Yet, still I don't like being out in
the dark now, and I don't like being left by myself in this grim house. I
cannot help it. I shall be glad when they leave it and shift to the Grange.
"They are going to
the Grange, then?" I said.
"Yes,"
answered Mrs. Dean, "as soon as they are married, and that will be on New
Year's day."
"And who will live
here then?"
"Why, Joseph will
take care of the house, and perhaps a lad to keep him company. They will live
in the kitchen, and the rest will be shut up."
"For the use of
such ghosts as choose to inhabit it," I observed.
"No, Mr.
Lockwood," said Nelly, shaking her head.
"I believe the
dead are at peace, but it is not right to speak of them with levity."
At that moment the
garden gate swung to; the ramblers were returning.
"They are afraid
of nothing," I grumbled, watching their approach through the window.
"Together they would brave Satan and all his legions."
As they stepped on to
the door-stones, and halted to take a last look at the moon -- or, more
correctly, at each other by her light -- I felt irresistibly impelled to escape
them again; and pressing a remembrance into the hand of Mrs. Dean, and
disregarding her expostulations at my rudeness, I vanished through the kitchen
as they opened the house-door, and so should have confirmed Joseph in his
opinion of his fellow-servant's gay indiscretions, had he not fortunately
recognized me for a respectable character by the sweet ring of a sovereign at
his feet.
My walk home was
lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the kirk. When beneath its walls
I perceived decay had made progress, even in seven months. Many a window showed
black gaps deprived of glass, and slates jutted off here and there beyond the right
line of the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms.
I sought and soon
discovered the three headstones on the slope next the moor -- the middle one
gray, and half buried in heath; Edgar Linton's only harmonized by the turf and
moss creeping up its foot; Heathcliff's still bare.
I lingered round them
under that benign sky, watched the moths fluttering among the heath and
harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered
how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet
earth.
The End