1847

WUTHERING HEIGHTS

by Emily Bronte

Biographical Notice of Ellis and Acton Bell

1850 (2nd edition)

(Ellis Bell is Emily Bronte.)

(Acton Bell is Anne Bronte.)

(Currer Beel is Charlotte Bronte.)

IT HAS BEEN thought that all the works published under the names

of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, were, in reality, the production

of one person. This mistake I endeavoured to rectify by a few words of

disclaimer prefixed to the third edition of "Jane Eyre." These, too,

it appears, failed to gain general credence, and now, on the

occasion of a reprint of "Wuthering Heights" I am advised distinctly

to state how the case really stands.

Indeed, I feel myself that it is time the obscurity attending

those two names- Ellis and Acton- was done away. The little mystery,

which formerly yielded some harmless pleasure, has lost its

interest; circumstances are changed. It becomes, then, my duty to

explain briefly the origin and authorship of the books written by

Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell.

About five years ago, my two sisters and myself, after a

somewhat prolonged period of separation, found ourselves reunited, and

at home. Resident in a remote district, where education had made

little progress, and where, consequently, there was no inducement to

seek social intercourse beyond our own domestic circle, we were wholly

dependent on ourselves and each other, on books and study, for the

enjoyments and occupations of life. The highest stimulus, as well as

the liveliest pleasure we had known from childhood upwards, lay in

attempts at literary composition; formerly we used to show each

other what we wrote, but of late years this habit of communication and

consultation had been discontinued; hence it ensued, that we were

mutually ignorant of the progress we might respectively have made.

One day, in the autumn of 1845, I accidentally lighted on a Ms.

volume of verse in my sister Emily's handwriting. Of course, I was not

surprised, knowing that she could and did write verse: I looked it

over, and something more than surprise seized me,- a deep conviction

that these were not common effusions, nor at all like the poetry women

generally write. I thought them condensed and terse, vigorous and

genuine. To my ear, they had also a peculiar music- wild, melancholy,

and elevating.

My sister Emily was not a person of demonstrative character, nor

one on the recesses of whose mind and feelings, even those nearest and

dearest to her could, with impunity, intrude unlicensed; it took hours

to reconcile her to the discovery I had made, and days to persuade her

that such poems merited publication. I knew, however, that a mind like

hers could not be without some latent spark of honourable ambition,

and refused to be discouraged in my attempts to fan that spark to

flame.

Meantime, my younger sister quietly produced some of her own

compositions, intimating that, since Emily's had given me pleasure,

I might like to look at hers. I could not but be a partial judge,

yet I thought that these verses, too, had a sweet and sincere pathos

of their own.

We had very early cherished the dream of one day becoming authors.

This dream, never relinquished even when distance divided and

absorbing tasks occupied us, now suddenly acquired strength and

consistency: it took the character of a resolve. We agreed to

arrange a small selection of our poems and, if possible, get them

printed. Averse to personal publicity, we veiled our own names under

those of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell; the ambiguous choice being

dictated by a sort of conscientious scruple at assuming Christian

names positively masculine, while we did not like to declare ourselves

women, because- without at that time suspecting that our mode of

writing and thinking was not what is called "feminine"- we had a

vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with

prejudice; we had noticed how critics sometimes use for their

chastisement the weapon of personality, and for their reward, a

flattery which is not true praise.

The bringing out of our little book was hard work. As was to be

expected, neither we nor our poems were at all wanted; but for this we

had been prepared at the outset; though inexperienced ourselves, we

had read the experience of others. The great puzzle lay in the

difficulty of getting answers of any kind from the publishers to

whom we applied. Being greatly harassed by this obstacle, I ventured

to apply to the Messrs. Chambers, of Edinburgh, for a word of

advice; they may have forgotten the circumstance, but I have not,

for from them I received a brief and business-like, but civil and

sensible reply, on which we acted, and at last made a way.

The book was printed: it is scarcely known, and all of it that

merits to be known are the poems of Ellis Bell. The fixed conviction I

held, and hold, of the worth of these poems has not indeed received

the confirmation of much favourable criticism; but I must retain it

notwithstanding.

Ill-success failed to crush us: the mere effort to succeed had

given a wonderful zest to existence; it must be pursued. We each set

to work on a prose tale: Ellis Bell produced "Wuthering Heights,"

Acton Bell "Agnes Grey," and Currer Bell also wrote a narrative in one

volume. These Mss. were perseveringly obtruded upon various publishers

for the space of a year and a half; usually, their fate was an

ignominious and abrupt dismissal.

At last "Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey" were accepted on

terms somewhat impoverishing to the two authors; Currer Bell's book

found acceptance nowhere, nor any acknowledgment of merit, so that

something like the chill of despair began to invade his heart. As a

forlorn hope, he tried one publishing house more- Messrs. Smith, Elder

and Co. Ere long, in a much shorter space than that on which

experience had taught him to calculate- there came a letter, which

he opened in the dreary expectation of finding two hard hopeless

lines, intimating that Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. "were not disposed

to publish the Ms.," and, instead, he took out of the envelope a

letter of two pages. He read it trembling. It declined, indeed, to

publish that tale, for business reasons, but it discussed its merits

and demerits so courteously, so considerately, in a spirit so

rational, with a discrimination so enlightened, that this very refusal

cheered the author better than a vulgarly expressed acceptance would

have done. It was added, that a work in three volumes would meet

with careful attention.

I was just then completing "Jane Eyre," at which I had been

working while the one-volume tale was plodding its weary round in

London: in three weeks I sent it off; friendly and skilful hands

took it in. This was in the commencement of September 1847; it came

out before the close of October following, while "Wuthering Heights"

and "Agnes Grey," my sisters' works, which had already been in the

press for months, still lingered under a different management.

They appeared at last. Critics failed to do them justice. The

immature but very real powers revealed in "Wuthering Heights" were

scarcely recognised; its import and nature were misunderstood; the

identity of its author was misrepresented; it was said that this was

an earlier and ruder attempt of the same pen which had produced

"Jane Eyre." Unjust and grievous error! We laughed at it at first, but

I deeply lament it now. Hence, I fear, arose a prejudice against the

book. That writer who could attempt to palm off an inferior and

immature production under cover of one successful effort, must

indeed be unduly eager after the secondary and sordid result of

authorship, and pitiably indifferent to its true and honourable

meed. If reviewers and the public truly believed this, no wonder

that they looked darkly on the cheat.

Yet I must not be understood to make these things subject for

reproach or complaint; I dare not do so; respect for my sister's

memory forbids me. By her any such querulous manifestation would

have been regarded as an unworthy and offensive weakness.

It is my duty, as well as my pleasure, to acknowledge one

exception to the general rule of criticism. One writer [See the

Palladium for September, 1850.], endowed with the keen vision and fine

sympathies of genius, has discerned the real nature of "Wuthering

Heights," and has, with equal accuracy, noted its beauties and touched

on its faults. Too often do reviewers remind us of the mob of

Astrologers, Chaldeans, and Soothsayers gathered before the "writing

on the wall," and unable to read the characters or make known the

interpretation. We have a right to rejoice when a true seer comes at

last, some man in whom is an excellent spirit, to whom have been given

light, wisdom, and understanding; who can accurately read the "Mene,

Mene, Tekel, Upharsin" of an original mind (however unripe, however

inefficiently cultured and partially expanded that mind may be); and

who can say with confidence, "This is the interpretation thereof."

Yet even the writer to whom I allude shares the mistake about

the authorship, and does me the injustice to suppose that there was

equivoque in my former rejection of this honour (as an honour I regard

it). May I assure him that I would scorn in this and in every other

case to deal in equivoque; I believe language to have been given us to

make our meaning clear, and not to wrap it in dishonest doubt.

"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall," by Acton Bell, had likewise an

unfavourable reception. At this I cannot wonder. The choice of subject

was an entire mistake. Nothing less congruous with the writer's nature

could be conceived. The motives which dictated this choice were

pure, but, I think, slightly morbid. She had, in the course of her

life, been called on to contemplate, near at hand, and for a long

time, the terrible effects of talents misused and faculties abused;

hers was naturally a sensitive, reserved, and dejected nature; what

she saw sank very deeply into her mind; it did her harm. She brooded

over it till she believed it to be a duty to reproduce every detail

(of course with fictitious characters, incidents, and situations),

as a warning to others. She hated her work, but would pursue it.

When reasoned with on the subject, she regarded such reasonings as a

temptation to self-indulgence. She must be honest: she must not

varnish, soften, or conceal. This well-meant resolution brought on her

misconstruction, and some abuse, which she bore, as it was her

custom to bear whatever was unpleasant, with mild, steady patience.

She was a very sincere and practical Christian, but the tinge of

religious melancholy communicated a sad shape to her brief,

blameless life.

Neither Ellis nor Acton allowed herself for one moment to sink

under want of encouragement; energy nerved the one, and endurance

upheld the other. They were both prepared to try again; I would fain

think that hope and the sense of power was yet strong within them. But

a great change approached: affliction came in that shape which to

anticipate is dread: to look back on, grief. In the very heat and

burden of the day, the labourers failed over their work.

My sister Emily first declined. The details of her illness are

deep-branded in my memory, but to dwell on them, either in thought

or narrative, is not in my power. Never in all her life had she

lingered over any task that lay before her, and she did not linger

now. She sank rapidly. She made haste to leave us. Yet, while

physically she perished, mentally she grew stronger than we had yet

known her. Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suffering,

I looked on her with an anguish of wonder and love. I have seen

nothing like it; but, indeed, I have never seen her parallel in

anything. Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature

stood alone. The awful point was, that while full of ruth for

others, on herself she had no pity; the spirit was inexorable to the

flesh; from the trembling hand, the unnerved limbs, the faded eyes,

the same service was exacted as they had rendered in health. To

stand by and witness this, and not dare to remonstrate, was a pain

no words can render.

Two cruel months of hope and fear passed painfully by, and the day

came at last when the terrors and pains of death were to be

undergone by this treasure, which had grown dearer and dearer to our

hearts as it wasted before our eyes. Towards the decline of that

day, we had nothing of Emily but her mortal remains as consumption

left them. She died December 19, 1848.

We thought this enough: but we were utterly and presumptuously

wrong. She was not buried ere Anne fell ill. She had not been

committed to the grave a fortnight, before we received distinct

intimation that it was necessary to prepare our minds to see the

younger sister go after the elder. Accordingly, she followed in the

same path with slower step, and with a patience that equalled the

other's fortitude. I have said that she was religious, and it was by

leaning on those Christian doctrines in which she firmly believed that

she found support through her most painful journey. I witnessed

their efficacy in her latest hour and greatest trial, and must bear my

testimony to the calm triumph with which they brought her through. She

died May 28, 1849.

What more shall I say about them? I cannot and need not say much

more. In externals, they were two unobtrusive women; a perfectly

secluded life gave them retiring manners and habits. In Emily's nature

the extremes of vigour and simplicity seemed to meet. Under an

unsophisticated culture, inartificial tastes, and an unpretending

outside, lay a secret power and fire that might have informed the

brain and kindled the veins of a hero; but she had no worldly

wisdom; her powers were unadapted to the practical business of life:

she would fail to defend her most manifest rights, to consult her most

legitimate advantage. An interpreter ought always to have stood

between her and the world. Her will was not very flexible, and it

generally opposed her interest. Her temper was magnanimous, but warm

and sudden; her spirit altogether unbending.

Anne's character was milder and more subdued; she wanted the

power, the fire, the originality of her sister, but was well endowed

with quiet virtues of her own. Long-suffering, self-denying,

reflective, and intelligent, a constitutional reserve and

taciturnity placed and kept her in the shade, and covered her mind,

and especially her feelings, with a sort of nun-like veil, which was

rarely lifted. Neither Emily nor Anne was learned; they had no thought

of filling their pitchers at the wellspring of other minds; they

always wrote from the impulse of nature, the dictates of intuition,

and from such stores of observation as their limited experience had

enabled them to amass. I may sum up all by saying, that for

strangers they were nothing, for superficial observers less than

nothing; but for those who had known them all their lives in

intimacy of close relationship, they were genuinely good and truly

great.

This notice has been written, because I felt it a sacred duty to

wipe the dust off their gravestones, and leave their dear names free

from soil.

CURRIER BELL

[Charlotte Bronte]

September 19, 1850.

THE EARNSHAWS THE LINTONS

|Frances| |Hindley| |Catherine| |Edgar | |Isabella| |Heathcliff|

|d. 1778| | 1757- | | 1765- | | 1765-| | 1765- | | 1764- |

| | | 1784 | | 1784 | | 1801 | | 1797 | | 1802 |

| married | | married | | married |

| Hareton Earnshaw | | Catherine Linton | | Linton Heathcliff |

| b. 1778 | | b. 1784 | | 1784 - 1801 |

| | married |

| married |

CHAPTER 1

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 sympathising 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 suddenly 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 soliloquised 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"

preeminently. 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

fire-place; 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 enquiring 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 arm-chair,

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 seacoast, 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- shrunk 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 snarl.

"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 despatch: 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 the 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.

CHAPTER 2

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 coalscuttles,

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 door 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 ot' 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 no hend wit," 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 washhouse, 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 commented 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 anyone 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 make 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 clinched

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 neutralised, 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 wonder 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' devil, 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 enquire 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 doorstones? I

see this house will never do for me- look at t' poor lad, he's fair

choking! Wisht, wisht! you mun'n'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.

CHAPTER 3

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 stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened the door and

glanced round for the bed. The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a

clothespress, 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 out, 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 flyleaf 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: 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. Oh, 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 enough if ye'll

read 'em! sit ye down, and think o' yer sowls!'

"Saying this, he compelled us 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 housedoor 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

dairywoman'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 prophecy 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 he 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 Gimmerdon 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 that I

could never get into the house without one, and boastfully flourishing

a heavyheaded 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-defense, 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

grip, 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 anyone 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

windowledge. 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 toilette rather noisily, looked at my watch, and

soliloquised 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 an 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, grey 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

overforwardly 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 hillback 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 adieux 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 my

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.

CHAPTER 4

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 housekeeper."

"Indeed."

There 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

recognise 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 enquired.

"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,

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."

"O 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 farther

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

today, 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

doorlatch 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 great-coat, 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 gypsy 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 enquired 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 he

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 great-coat, 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.

Enquiries 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 a wink 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 sympathised 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 not I

prevented it, he would have gone just so to the master, and got full

revenge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating he had

caused it. "Take my colt, gypsy, 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.

CHAPTER 5

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 manifestation 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) advised that the young man should be sent to

college; and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he

said- "Hindley was nought, 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 daresay, 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 sermonising 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

awakened 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 possibly 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,

Heacthcliff! 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.

CHAPTER 6

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 aweeping- 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 delftcase, 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

acquaintances; 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 hand 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 had

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 sittingroom, 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 till 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

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

tomorrow. 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 glassdrops 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 now, 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 accusation,

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? to find us by ourselves, seeing 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

housefront 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, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! Oh, papa! Oh, mamma, come here. Oh,

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 left 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 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 recognise 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 gypsy! And yet, my dear, the child is in

mourning- surely it is- and she may be maimed 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 grey 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.

CHAPTER 7

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

black-guard 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 a way, 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 in 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 enquired, 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

friends, 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 chatted 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 dishcloth,

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 fained 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 Gimerton 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 stair's 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 suppose 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 enquiring 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 a 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 unaccustomed 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 the 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."

CHAPTER 8

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, when 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 enquired.

"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"; he replied, putting on a cheerful

smile.

"And the mistress?" I ventured to enquire; "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 country side; 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 softfeatured

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 housekeeper. "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 ingenuous 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 shrunk 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 sympathised 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 acquaintances.

Catherine and he were constant companions still at his seasons

of respite and 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 sugested; "you'd better go!"

"Joseph is loading lime on the farther 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

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 the 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, "Oh, 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 tried 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.

CHAPTER 9

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 my 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. Hindey," 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 further; 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 intense 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've 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 enquired.

"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.

"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 anybody 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 he 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 to-night."

"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 to 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 will 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 had 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 seegh!" 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 unwar!" 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

mumn'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?"

"I 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 les 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 splash 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 shawlless 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 wait for him 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 fire-place. 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

shrunk 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 though 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 Thushcross 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 thunder-storm; 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 run 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 time-piece 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.

CHAPTER 10

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 sizar'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 she 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 sympathising 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."

"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 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 enquired, 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 gypsy- 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.

"Oh, Edgar, Edgar!" she panted, flinging her arms round his

neck. "Oh, 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 youthlike. 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-civilised 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. The 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 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 awakened 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 county 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 enquired.

"He is reforming 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 has 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 his 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 would never 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 fingers cut off wi'

hauding t'others 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, und 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 father'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 despatched 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, 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.

CHAPTER 11

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 a guide post to the Grange, the 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 perishable

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 in 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 him another, keeping it out of his reach.

"Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?" I enquired.

"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.

"Ah- 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 villian. 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 enquired.

"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.

If 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." 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 unsufferable!" 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 recommended

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.

"Oh, heavens! In old days, this would win you knighthwood!"

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 suckling 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 him 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 sometime; so, as you value his existence, let me

get at him!"

"He's 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,

likely, be watching from the parlour windows, to see that they fulfill

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, 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 in no way blameable 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 further

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

enquire 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.

CHAPTER 12

WHILE MISS LINTON moped about the park and garden, always

silent, and almost always in tears; and her brother shut himself up

among the 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 much

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 enquired, still preserving my

external composure, in spite of her ghastly countenance and strange

exaggerated manner.

"What is that apathetic being doing?" she demanded, pushing her

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 lapwing 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 grey hair and bent shoulders. This bed is the fairy cave under

Penistone 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

Penistone 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 curtains that I might watch her.

"Don't you see that face?" she enquired, 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! Oh! Nelly,

the room is haunted! I'm afraid of being alone!"

I took her hand in mine, and bid 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 put 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 grey 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 trees 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.

"Oh, sir!" I cried, checking the exclamation risen to his lips

at the sight which met him, and the bleak atmosphere of the chamber.

"My poor mistress is ill, and she quite masters me: I cannot manage

her at all; pray, come and persuade her to go to bed. Forget your

anger, for she's hard to guide any way but her own."

"Catherine ill?" he said, hastening to us. "Shut the window,

Ellen! Catherine! why-"

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 centered 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 headstone; 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

know your mistress's nature, and you encouraged me to harass her.

And not to give me one hint of how she had 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 elfbolts to hurt us! Let

me go, 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

proclamation 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 enquired. "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 enquiry 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.

CHAPTER 13

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 recognise any sentiment which those around share with me.

The second question, I have great interest in,- 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 enquiry; but, I beeseech 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 judge 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 farm-house, 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 daresay 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.

"None o' 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 re-fastened the

door. There was a great fire, and that was all the light in the huge

apartment, whose floor had grown a uniform grey; 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

enquired whether I might call the maid, and be conducted to a

bed-room? 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 maid-servant? 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 waist-coat 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 boll, 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

otherings- 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

night 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

toneeght; 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' gulip

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 comenced 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 bairn 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 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 dunnot 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 feard o'

muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o' t' top on't."

The "rahm" was a kind of lumberhole 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."

"Bed-rume!" lie repeated, in a tone of mockery. "Yah's see all

t' bed-rumes 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,

curtained 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 married,

wearisome nowt! Ye've seen all but Hareton's bit of 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! Howsiver, 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'en if 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 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 void 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 yerseln, un Him as allas makes

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

CHAPTER 14

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 bid 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 distinctions

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 merely forgotten me?" he said. "Oh, 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 neighborhood 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 monopolised 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 over nice, 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 learnt; 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 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 detain 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 tonight; 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 insure 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 tranquility 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 suprising her, I don't desire it: you must

prepare her- ask her if I may come. You say she never mentioned 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 from duty and humanity! From pity and

charity! He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, 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 of 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!

CHAPTER 15

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.

"Oh, Cathy! Oh, 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 came 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 am 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 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 on 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- oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in

the grave?':

"Let me alone. Let me alone," sobbed Catherine. "If I have 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, grasping: 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.

CHAPTER 16

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 deathlike 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 fulness. 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 very 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 further 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 endeavored 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 care 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! Oh, 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

grey block at their feet, to mark the graves.

CHAPTER 17

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

tonight, 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 sympathise 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- of 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 enquired 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 eye-sight: 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 the 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 staunch

supporter, that odious old man! When Heathcliff is in I'm often

obliged to seek the kitchen with 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 favorable 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 persist in endeavouring to enter.'

"'You'd better open the door, you-' he 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 'grined,'

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 you,' I answered: 'and that's a

poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow! We were left

at peace on 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 preterhuman 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 it 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 conditon 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 enquire 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 hearthstone. 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, were 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

bid 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, enquired

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: the

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 moralising, 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 was 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 today. 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 enquire 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 bid 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 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 my 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.

CHAPTER 18

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 Earnshaw's 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

heartbreaking 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 made her an

apt scholar: she learned 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 about 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 a

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 despatched 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 enquired 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 for 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 to-night: 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 riband. 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 thundercloud, 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.

"Oh, 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 mention 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 bid her wisht! for he meant nought. Pausing in her

lamentations, she surveyed him with 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 overtopped 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.

CHAPTER 19

A LETTER, edged in 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 excellences 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

play-fellow! 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. 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 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 enquired 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 footstool 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 full 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 not 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 go 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; "nao! that means naught. Hathecliff

maks noa'count o' t' mother, nor ye norther; but he'll hey 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!"

CHAPTER 20

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 that 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 quite

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 enquired, 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. Do not 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.

"Hallo, 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.

"Surely," 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 bid 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 monopolising 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 land 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 as safe with me, and shall be tended

as carefully as your master tends his own. I have a room upstairs,

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 that he could not

eat it. I saw the old manservant 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 good 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 all 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.

CHAPTER 21

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 soothe 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 enquired 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 recognize 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, with 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. The 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 greyhound; 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 further- only a little further, 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 act 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 ill-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?" enquired 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 to Catherine that she musn't, on my 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

road-side 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'm 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 even a

rabbit or 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 sympathise 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 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 I 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

consequences 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 you 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 burnt 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 mornings 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 halfway, 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 didn't 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

play-things, 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 dairymaid 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.

"Oh, 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