                                      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
the fire, do, do!"
    But when I proceeded to open a place with the poker, the sacrifice
was too painful to be borne. She earnestly supplicated that I would
spare her one or two.
    "One or two, Ellen, to keep for Linton's sake!"
    I unknotted the handkerchief, and commenced dropping them in
from an angle, and the flame curled up the chimney.
    "I will have one, you cruel wretch!" she screamed, darting her
hand into the fire, and drawing forth some half consumed fragments, at
the expense of her fingers.
    "Very well- and I will have some to exhibit to papa!" I
answered, shaking back the rest into the bundle, and turning anew to
the door.
    She emptied her blackened pieces into the flames, and motioned
me to finish the immolation. It was done; I stirred up the ashes,
and interred them under a shovelful of coals; and she mutely, and with
a sense of intense injury, retired to her private apartment. I
descended to tell my master that the young lady's qualm of sickness
was almost gone, but I judged it best for her to lie down a while. She
wouldn't dine; but she reappeared at tea, pale, and red about the
eyes, and marvellously subdued in outward aspect. Next morning, I
answered the letter by a slip of paper, inscribed, "Master
Heathcliff is requested to send no more notes to Miss Linton, as she
will not receive them." And, thenceforth, the little boy came with
vacant pockets.
                             CHAPTER 22

    SUMMER drew to an end, and early autumn: it was past Michaelmas,
but the harvest was late that year, and a few of our fields were still
uncleared. Mr. Linton and his daughter would frequently walk out among
the reapers; at the carrying of the last sheaves, they stayed till
dusk, and the evening happening to be chill and damp, my master caught
a bad cold, that settled obstinately on his lungs, and confined him
indoors throughout the whole of the winter, nearly without
intermission.
    Poor Cathy, frightened from her little romance, had been
considerably sadder and duller since its abandonment; and her father
insisted on her reading less, and taking more exercise. She had his
companionship no longer; I esteemed it a duty to supply its lack, as
much as possible, with mine: an inefficient substitute; for I could
only spare two or three hours, from my numerous diurnal occupations,
to follow her footsteps, and then my society was obviously less
desirable than his.
    On an afternoon in October, or the beginning of November- a
fresh watery afternoon, when the turf and paths were rustling with
moist, withered leaves, and the cold, blue sky was half hidden by
clouds- dark grey streamers, rapidly mounting from the west, and
boding abundant rain- I requested my young lady to forego her
ramble, because I was certain of showers. She refused; and I
unwillingly donned a cloak, and took my umbrella to accompany her on a
stroll to the bottom of the park: a formal walk which she generally
affected if low-spirited- and that she invariably was when Mr. Edgar
had been worse than ordinary, a thing never known from his confession,
but guessed both by her and me, from his increased silence and the
melancholy of his countenance. She went sadly on: there was no running
or bounding now, though the chill wind might well have tempted her
to race. And often, from the side of my eve, I could detect her
raising a hand, and brushing something off her cheek. I gazed round
for a means of diverting her thoughts. On one side of the road rose
a high, rough bank, where hazels and stunted oaks, with their roots
half-exposed held uncertain tenure: the soil was too loose for the
latter; and strong winds had blown some nearly horizontal. In
summer, Miss Catherine delighted to climb along these trunks, and
sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet above the ground; and I,
pleased with her agility and her light, childish heart, still
considered it proper to scold every time I caught her at such an
elevation, but so that she knew there was no necessity for descending.
From dinner to tea she would lie in her breeze-rocked cradle, doing
nothing except singing old songs- my nursery lore- to herself, or
watching the birds, joint tenants, feed and entice their young ones to
fly: or nestling with closed lids, half thinking, half dreaming,
happier than words can express.
    "Look, miss!" I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of
one twisted tree. "Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower
up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded
those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up, and
pluck it to show to papa?"
    Cathy stared a long time at the lonely blossom trembling in its
earthy shelter, and replied, at length:
    "No, I'll not touch it; but it looks melancholy, does it not,
Ellen?"
    "Yes," I observed, "about as starved and sackless as you: your
cheeks are bloodless; let us take hold of hands and run. You're so
low, I dare say I shall keep up with you."
    "No," she repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing at
intervals, to muse over a bit of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or
a fungus spreading its bright orange among the heaps of brown foliage;
and, ever and anon, her hand was lifted to her averted face.
    "Catherine, why are you crying, love?" I asked, approaching and
putting my arm over her shoulder. "You mustn't cry because papa has
a cold; be thankful it is nothing worse."
    She now put no further restraint on her tears; her breath was
stifled by sobs.
    "Oh, it will be something worse," she said. "And what shall I do
when papa and you leave me, and I am by myself! I can't forget your
words, Ellen; they are always in my ear. How life will be changed, how
dreary the world will be when papa and you are dead."
    "None can tell, whether you won't die before us," I replied. "It's
wrong to anticipate evil. We'll hope there are years and years to come
before any of us go: master is young, and I am strong, and hardly
forty-five. My mother lived till eighty, a canty dame to the last. And
suppose Mr. Linton were spared till he saw sixty, that would be more
years than you have counted, miss. And would it not be foolish to
mourn a calamity above twenty years beforehand?"
    "But Aunt Isabella was younger than papa," she remarked, gazing up
with timid hope to seek further consolation.
    "Aunt Isabella had not you and me to nurse her," I replied. "She
wasn't as happy as master; she hadn't as much to live for. All you
need do, is to wait well on your father, and cheer him by letting
him see you cheerful; and avoid giving him anxiety on any subject:
mind that, Cathy! I'll not disguise but you might kill him, if you
were wild and reckless, and cherished a foolish, fanciful affection
for the son of a person who would be glad to have him in his grave;
and allowed him to discover that you fretted over the separation he
has judged it expedient to make."
    "I fret about nothing on earth except papa's illness," answered my
companion. "I care for nothing in comparison with papa. And I'll
never- never- oh, never, while I have my senses, do an act or say a
word to vex him. I love him better than myself, Ellen; and I know it
by this: I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would
rather be miserable than that he should be: that proves I love him
better than myself"
    "Good words," I replied. "But deeds must prove it also; and
after he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in
the hour of fear."
    As we talked, we neared a door that opened on the road; and my
young lady, lightening into sunshine again, climbed up and seated
herself on the top of the wall, reaching over to gather some hips that
bloomed scarlet on the summit branches of the wild rose trees,
shadowing the highway side: the lower fruit had disappeared, but
only birds could touch the upper, except from Cathy's present station.
In stretching to pull them, her hat fell off; and as the door was
locked, she proposed scrambling down to recover it. I bid her be
cautious lest she got a fall, and she nimbly disappeared. But the
return was no such easy matter: the stones were smooth and neatly
cemented, and the rose bushes and blackberry stragglers could yield no
assistance in re-ascending. I, like a fool, didn't recollect that,
till I heard her laughing and exclaiming:
    "Ellen, you'll have to fetch the key, or else I must run round
to the porter's lodge. I can't scale the ramparts on this side!"
    "Stay where you are," I answered, "I have my bundle of keys in
my pocket: perhaps I may manage to open it; if not I'll go."
    Catherine amused herself with dancing to and fro before the
door, while I tried all the large keys in succession. I had applied
the last, and found that none would do; so, repeating my desire that
she would remain there, I was about to hurry home as fast as I
could, when an approaching sound arrested me. It was the trot of a
horse; Cathy's dance stopped also.
    "Who is that?" I whispered.
    "Ellen, I wish you could open the door," whispered back my
companion anxiously.
    "Ho, Miss Linton!" cried a deep voice (the rider's), "I'm glad
to meet you. Don't be in haste to enter, for I have an explanation
to ask and obtain."
    "I shan't speak to you, Mr. Heathcliff," answered Catherine. "Papa
says you are a wicked man, and you hate both him and me; and Ellen
says the same."
    "That is nothing to the purpose," said Heathcliff. (He it was.) "I
don't hate my son, I suppose; and it is concerning him that I demand
your attention. Yes; you have cause to blush. Two or three months
since, were you not in the habit of writing to Linton? making love
in play, eh? You deserved, both of you, flogging for that! You
especially, the elder; and less sensitive, as it turns out. I've got
your letters, and if you give me any pertness I'll send them to your
father. I presume you grew weary of the amusement and dropped it,
didn't you? Well, you dropped Linton with it into a Slough of Despond.
He was in earnest: in love, really. As true as I live, he's dying
for you; breaking his heart at your fickleness: not figuratively,
but actually. Though Hareton has made him a standing jest for six
weeks, and I have used more serious measures, and attempted to
frighten him out of his idiocy, he gets worse daily; and he'll be
under the sod before summer, unless you restore him!"
    "How can you lie so glaringly to the poor child?" I called from
the inside. "Pray ride on! How can you deliberately get up such paltry
falsehoods? Miss Cathy, I'll knock the lock off with a stone: you
won't believe that vile nonsense. You can feel in yourself, it is
impossible that a person should die for love of a stranger."
    "I was not aware there were eavesdroppers," muttered the
detected villain. "Worthy Mrs. Dean, I like you, but I don't like your
double-dealing," he added aloud. "How could you lie so glaringly, as
to affirm I hated the 'poor child'? and invent bugbear stories to
terrify her from my door-stones? Catherine Linton (the very name warms
me), my bonnie lass, I shall be from home all this week; go and see if
I have not spoken truth: do, there's a darling! just imagine your
father in my place, and Linton in yours; then think how you would
value your careless lover if he refused to stir a step to comfort you,
when your father himself entreated him; and don't, from pure
stupidity, fall into the same error. I swear, on my salvation, he's
going to his grave, and none but you can save him!"
    The lock gave way and I issued out.
    "I swear Linton is dying," repeated Heathcliff, looking hard at
me. "And grief and disappointment are hastening his death. Nelly, if
you won't let her go, you can walk over yourself. But I shall not
return till this time next week; and I think your master himself would
scarcely object to her visiting her cousin!"
    "Come in," said I, taking Cathy by the arm and half-forcing her to
re-enter; for she lingered, viewing with troubled eyes the features of
the speaker, too stern to express his inward deceit.
    He pushed his horse close, and bending down, observed:
    "Miss Catherine, I'll own to you that I have little patience
with Linton; and Hareton and Joseph have less. I'll own that he's with
a harsh set. He pines for kindness, as well as love; and a kind word
from you would be his best medicine. Don't mind Mrs. Dean's cruel
cautions; but be generous, and contrive to see him. He dreams of you
day and night, and cannot be persuaded that you don't hate him,
since you neither write nor call."
    I closed the door, and rolled a stone to assist the loosened
lock in holding it; and spreading my umbrella, I drew my charge
underneath: for the rain began to drive through the moaning branches
of the trees, and warned us to avoid delay. Our hurry prevented any
comment on the encounter with Heathcliff, as we stretched towards
home; but I divined instinctively that Catherine's heart was clouded
now in double darkness. Her features were so sad, they did not seem
hers: she evidently regarded what she had heard as every syllable
true.
    The master had retired to rest before we came in. Cathy stole to
his room to enquire how he was; he had fallen asleep. She returned,
and asked me to sit with her in the library. We took our tea together;
and afterwards she lay down on the rug, and told me not to talk, for
she was weary. I got a book, and pretended to read. As soon as she
supposed me absorbed in my occupation, she recommenced her silent
weeping; it appeared, at present, her favourite diversion. I
suffered her to enjoy it a while; then I expostulated: deriding and
ridiculing a Mr. Heathcliff's assertions about his son, as if I were
certain she would coincide. Alas! I hadn't skill to counteract the
effect his account had produced: it was just what he intended.
    "You may be right, Ellen," she answered; "but I shall never feel
at ease till I know. And I must tell Linton it is not my fault that
I don't write, and convince him that I shall not change."
    What use were anger and protestations against her silly credulity?
We parted that night- hostile; but next day beheld me on the road to
Wuthering Heights, by the side of my wilful young mistress's pony. I
couldn't bear to witness her sorrow: to see her pale dejected
countenance, and heavy eyes; and I yielded, in the faint hope that
Linton himself might prove, by his reception of us, how little of
the tale was founded on fact.
                             CHAPTER 23

    THE RAINY NIGHT had ushered in a cold, misty morning-
half-frost, half-drizzle- and temporary brooks crossed our path,
gurgling from the uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted; I was cross
and low; exactly the humour suited for making the most of these
disagreeable things. We entered the farmhouse by the kitchen way, to
ascertain whether Mr. Heathcliff were really absent; because I put
slight faith in his own affirmation.
    Joseph seemed sitting in a sort of elysium alone, beside a roaring
fire; a quart of ale on the table near him, bristling with large
pieces of toasted oat-cake; and his black, short pipe in his mouth.
Catherine ran to the hearth to warm herself I asked if the master
was in? My question remained so long unanswered, that I thought the
old man had grown deaf, and repeated it louder.
    "Na-ay!" he snarled, or rather screamed through his nose. "Na-ay!
yah muh goa back whear yah coom frough."
    "Joseph!" cried a peevish voice, simultaneously with me, from
the inner room. "How often am I to call you? There are only a few
red ashes now. Joseph! come this moment."
    Vigorous puffs, and a resolute stare into the grate declared he
had no ear for this appeal. The housekeeper and Hareton were
invisible; one gone on an errand, and the other at his work, probably.
We knew Linton's tones, and entered.
    "Oh, I hope you'll die in a garret! starved to death," said the
boy, mistaking our approach for that of his negligent attendant.
    He stopped, on observing his error; his cousin flew to him.
    "Is that you, Miss Linton?" he said, raising his head from the arm
of the great chair, in which he reclined. "No- don't kiss me: it takes
my breath. Dear me! papa said you would call," continued he, after
recovering a little from Catherine's embrace; while she stood by
looking very contrite. "Will you shut the door, if you please? you
left it open; and those- those detestable creatures won't bring
coals to the fire. It's so cold!"
    I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttleful myself. The
invalid complained of being covered with ashes; but he had a
tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his
temper.
    "Well, Linton," murmured Catherine, when his corrugated brow
relaxed. "Are you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?"
    "Why didn't you come before?" he asked. "You should have come,
instead of writing. It tired me dreadfully, writing those long
letters. I'd far rather have talked to you. Now, I can neither bear to
talk, nor anything else. I wonder where Zillah is! Will you (looking
at me) step into the kitchen and see?"
    I had received no thanks for my other service; and being unwilling
to run to and fro at his behest, I replied: "Nobody is out there but
Joseph."
    "I want to drink," he exclaimed fretfully, turning away. "Zillah
is constantly gadding off to Gimmerton since papa went: it's
miserable! And I'm obliged to come down here- they resolved never to
hear me upstairs."
    "Is your father attentive to you, Master Heathcliff?" I asked,
perceiving Catherine to be checked in her friendly advances.
    "Attentive? He makes them a little more attentive at least," he
cried. "The wretches! Do you know, Miss Linton, that brute Hareton
laughs at me! I hate him! indeed, I hate them all: they are odious
beings."
    Cathy began searching for some water; she lighted on a pitcher
in the dresser, filled a tumbler, and brought it. He bid her add a
spoonful of wine from a bottle on the table; and having swallowed a
small portion, appeared more tranquil, and said she was very kind.
    "And are you glad to see me?" asked she, reiterating her former
question, and pleased to detect the faint dawn of a smile.
    "Yes, I am. It's something new to hear a voice like yours!" he
replied. "But I have been vexed, because you wouldn't come. And papa
swore it was owing to me: he called me a pitiful, shuffling, worthless
thing; and said you despised me; and if he had been in my place, he
would be more the master of the Grange than your father, by this time.
But you don't despise me do you, Miss-"
    "I wish you would say Catherine, or Cathy," interrupted my young
lady. "Despise you? No! Next to papa and Ellen, I love you better than
anybody living. I don't love Mr. Heathcliff, though; and I dare not
come when he returns; will he stay away many days?"
    "Not many," answered Linton; "but he goes on to the moors
frequently, since the shooting season commenced; and you might spend
an hour or two with me in his absence. Do say you will. I think I
should not be peevish with you: you'd not provoke me, and you'd always
be ready to help me, wouldn't you?"
    "Yes," said Catherine, stroking his long soft hair; "if I could
only get papa's consent, I'd spend half my time with you. Pretty
Linton! I wish you were my brother."
    "And then you would like me as well as your father?" observed
he, more cheerfully. "But papa says you would love me better than
him and all the world, if you were my wife; so I'd rather you were
that."
    "No I should never love anybody better than papa," she returned
gravely. "And people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their
sisters and brothers: and if you were the latter you would live with
us, and papa would be as fond of you as he is of me."
    Linton denied that people ever hated their wives; but Cathy
affirmed they did, and, in her wisdom, instanced his own father's
aversion to her aunt. I endeavoured to stop her thoughtless tongue.
I couldn't succeed till everything she knew was out. Master
Heathcliff, much irritated, asserted her relation was false.
    "Papa told me; and papa does not tell falsehoods," she answered
pertly:
    "My papa scorns yours!" cried Linton. "He calls him a sneaking
fool."
    "Yours is a wicked man," retorted Catherine; "and you are very
naughty to dare to repeat what he says. He must be wicked to have made
Aunt Isabella leave him as she did."
    "She didn't leave him," said the boy; "you shan't contradict me."
    "She did," cried my young lady.
    "Well, I'll tell you something!" said Linton. "Your mother hated
your father: now then."
    "Oh!" exclaimed Catherine, too enraged to continue.
    "And she loved mine," added he.
    "You little liar! I hate you now!" she panted, and her face grew
red with passion.
    "She did! she did!" sang Linton, sinking into the recess of his
chair, and leaning back his head to enjoy the agitation of the other
disputant, who stood behind.
    "Hush, Master Heathcliff!" I said; "that's your father's tale,
too, I suppose."
    "It isn't: you hold your tongue!" he answered. "She did, she
did, Catherine! she did, she did!"
    Cathy, beside herself, gave the chair a violent push, and caused
him to fall against one arm. He was immediately seized by a
suffocating cough that soon ended his triumph. It lasted so long
that it frightened even me. As to his cousin, she wept, with all her
might; aghast at the mischief she had done: though she said nothing. I
held him till the fit exhausted itself. Then he thrust me away, and
leant his head down silently. Catherine quelled her lamentations also,
took a seat opposite, and looked solemnly into the fire.
    "How do you feel now, Master Heathcliff?" I enquired, after
waiting ten minutes.
    "I wish she felt as I do," he replied: "spiteful, cruel thing!
Hareton never touches me: he never struck me in his life. And I was
better today: and there-" his voice died in a whimper.
    "I didn't strike you!" muttered Cathy, chewing her lip to
prevent another burst of emotion.
    He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering, and kept it
up for a quarter of an hour; on purpose to distress his cousin
apparently, for whenever he caught a stifled sob from her he put
renewed pain and pathos into the inflections of his voice.
    "I'm sorry I hurt you, Linton," she said at length racked beyond
endurance. "But I couldn't have been hurt by that little push, and I
had no idea that you could, either: you're not much, are you,
Linton? Don't let me go home thinking I've done you harm. Answer!
speak to me."
    "I can't speak to you," he murmured; "you've hurt me so, that I
shall lie awake all night choking with this cough. If you had it you'd
know what it was; but you'll be comfortably asleep while I'm in agony,
and nobody near me. I wonder how you would like to pass those
fearful nights!" And he began to wall aloud, for very pity of himself.
    "Since you are in the habit of passing dreadful nights," I said,
"it won't be miss who spoils your ease: you'd be the same had she
never come. However, she shall not disturb you again; and perhaps
you'll get quieter when we leave you."
    "Must I go?" asked Catherine dolefully, bending over him. "Do
you want me to go, Linton?"
    "You can't alter what you've done," he replied pettishly,
shrinking from her, "unless you alter it for the worse by teasing me
into a fever."
    "Well, then, I must go?" she repeated.
    "Let me alone, at least," said he; "I can't bear your talking."
    She lingered, and resisted my persuasions to departure a
tiresome while; but as he neither looked up nor spoke, she finally
made a movement to the door and I followed. We were recalled by a
scream. Linton had slid from his seat on to the hearthstone, and lay
writhing in the mere perverseness of an indulged plague of a child,
determined to be as grievous and harassing as it can. I thoroughly
gauged his disposition from his behaviour, and saw at once it would be
folly to attempt humouring him. Not so my companion: she ran back in
terror, knelt down, and cried, and soothed, and entreated, till he
grew quiet from lack of breath: by no means from compunction at
distressng her.
    "I shall lift him on the settle," I said, "and he may roll about
as he pleases: we can't stop to watch him. I hope you are satisfied,
Miss Cathy, that you are not the person to benefit him; and that his
condition of health is not occasioned by attachment to you. Now, then,
there he is! Come away: as soon as he knows there is nobody by to care
for his nonsense, he'll be glad to lie still."
    She placed a cushion under his head, and offered him some water;
he rejected the latter, and tossed uneasily on the former, as if it
were a stone or a block of wood. She tried to put it more comfortably.
    "I can't do with that," he said; "it's not high enough." Catherine
brought another to lay above it.
    "That's too high," murmured the provoking thing.
    "How must I arrange it, then?" she asked despairingly.
    He twined himself up to her, as she half knelt by the settle,
and converted her shoulder into a support.
    "No, that won't do," I said. "You'll be content with the
cushion, Master Heathcliff. Miss has wasted too much time on you
already: we cannot remain five minutes longer."
    "Yes, yes, we can!" replied Cathy. "He's good and patient now.
He's beginning to think I shall have far greater misery than he will
tonight, if I believed he is the worse for my visit; and then I dare
not come again. Tell the truth about it, Linton; for I mustn't come,
if I have hurt you."
    "You must come, to cure me," he answered. "You ought to come,
because you have hurt me: you know you have extremely! I was not as
ill when you entered as I am at present- was I?"
    "But you've made yourself ill by crying and being in a passion."
    "I didn't do it at all," said his cousin. "However, we'll be
friends now. And you want me: you would wish to see me sometimes,
really?"
    "I told you I did," he replied impatiently. "Sit on the settle and
let me lean on your knee. That's as mamma used to do, whole afternoons
together. Sit quite still and don't talk: but you may sing a song,
if you can sing; or you may say a nice long interesting ballad- one of
those you promised to teach me: or a story. I'd rather have a
ballad, though: begin."
    Catherine repeated the longest she could remember. The
employment pleased both mightily. Linton would have another; and after
that another, notwithstanding my strenuous objections; and so they
went on until the clock struck twelve, and we heard Hareton in the
court, returning for his dinner.
    "And to-morrow, Catherine, will you be here to-morrow?" asked
young Heathcliff, holding her frock as she rose reluctantly.
    "No," I answered, "nor the next day." She, however, gave a
different response evidently, for his forehead cleared as she
stooped and whispered in his ear.
    "You won't go to-morrow, recollect, miss!" I commenced, when we
were out of the house. "You are not dreaming of it, are you?"
    She smiled.
    "Oh, I'll take good care," I continued: "I'll have that lock
mended, and you can escape by no way else".
    "I can get over the wall," she said, laughing. "The Grange is
not a prison, Ellen, and you are not my gaoler. And besides, I'm
almost seventeen: I'm a woman. And I'm certain Linton would recover
quickly if he had me to look after him. I'm older than he is, you
know, and wiser: less childish, am I not? And he'll soon do as I
direct him, with some slight coaxing. He's a pretty little darling
when he's good. I'd make such a pet of him, if he were mine. We should
never quarrel, should we, after we were used to each other? Don't
you like him, Ellen?"
    "Like him!" I exclaimed. "The worst-tempered bit of a sickly
slip that ever struggled into its teens. Happily, as Mr. Heathcliff
conjectured, he'll not win twenty. I doubt whether he'll see spring,
indeed. And small loss to his family whenever he drops off. And
lucky it is for us that his father took him: the kinder he was
treated, the more tedious and selfish he'd be. I'm glad you have no
chance of having him for a husband, Miss Catherine."
    My companion waxed serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his
death so regardlessly, wounded her feelings.
    "He's younger than I," she answered, after a protracted pause of
meditation, "and he ought to live the longest: he will- he must live
as long as I do. He's as strong now as when he first came into the
north; I'm positive of that. It's only a cold that ails him, the
same as papa has. You say papa will get better, and why shouldn't he?"
    "Well, well," I cried, "after all, we needn't trouble ourselves;
for listen, miss, and mind, I'll keep my word,- if you attempt going
to Wuthering Heights again, with or without me, I shall inform Mr.
Linton, and, unless he allow it, intimacy with your cousin must not be
revived."
    "It has been revived," muttered Cathy sulkily.
    "Must not be continued, then," I said.
    "We'll see," was her reply, and she set off at a gallop, leaving
me to toil in the rear.
    We both reached home before our dinner-time; my master supposed we
had been wandering through the park, and therefore he demanded no
explanation of our absence. As soon as I entered, I hastened to change
my soaked shoes and stockings; but sitting such a while at the Heights
had done the mischief On the succeeding morning I was laid up, and
during three weeks I remained incapacitated for attending to my
duties: a calamity never experienced prior to that period, and
never, I am thankful to say, since.
    My little mistress behaved like an angel, in coming to wait on me,
and cheer my solitude: the confinement brought me exceedingly low.
It is wearisome, to a stirring active body: but few have slighter
reasons for complaint than I had. The moment Catherine left Mr.
Linton's room, she appeared at my bedside. Her day was divided between
us; no amusement usurped a minute: she neglected her meals, her
studies, and her play; and she was the fondest nurse that ever
watched. She must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so,
to give so much to me. I said her days were divided between us; but
the master retired early, and I generally needed nothing after six
o'clock; thus the evening was her own. Poor thing! I never
considered what she did with herself after tea. And though frequently,
when she looked in to bid me good-night, I remarked a fresh colour
in her cheeks and a pinkness over her slender fingers; instead of
fancying the hue borrowed from a cold ride across the moors, I laid it
to the charge of a hot fire in the library.
                             CHAPTER 24

    AT THE CLOSE of those weeks, I was able to quit my chamber, and
move about the house. And on the first occasion of my sitting up in
the evening, I asked Catherine to read to me, because my eyes were
weak. We were in the library, the master having gone to bed: she
consented, rather unwillingly, I fancied; and imagining my sort of
books did not suit her, I bid her please herself in the choice of what
she perused. She selected one of her own favourites, and got forward
steadily about an hour; then came frequent questions.
    "Ellen, are not you tired? Hadn't you better lie down now?
You'll be sick, keeping up so long, Ellen."
    "No, no, dear, I'm not tired," I returned continually.
    Perceiving me immovable, she essayed another method of showing her
disrelish for her occupation. It changed to yawning, and stretching,
and:
    "Ellen, I'm tired."
    "Give over then and talk," I answered.
    That was worse: she fretted and sighed, and looked at her watch
till eight, and finally went to her room, completely over-done with
sleep; judging by her peevish, heavy look, and the constant rubbing
she inflicted on her eyes. The following night she seemed more
impatient still; and on the third from recovering my company, she
complained of a headache, and left me. I thought her conduct odd;
and having remained alone a long while, I resolved on going and
inquiring whether she were better, and asking her to come and lie on
the sofa, instead of upstairs in the dark. No Catherine could I
discover upstairs, and none below. The servants affirmed they had
not seen her. I listened at Mr. Edgar's door; all was silence. I
returned to her apartment, extinguished my candle, and seated myself
in the window.
    The moon shone bright; a sprinkling of snow covered the ground,
and I reflected that she might, possibly, have taken it into her
head to walk about the garden, for refreshment. I did detect a
figure creeping along the inner fence of the park; but it was not my
young mistress: on its merging into the light, I recognized one of the
grooms. He stood a considerable period, viewing the carriage-road
through the grounds; then started off at a brisk pace, as if he had
detected something, and reappeared presently, leading Miss's pony; and
there she was, just dismounted, and walking by its side. The man
took his charge stealthily across the grass towards the stable.
Cathy entered by the casement-window of the drawingroom, and glided
noiselessly up to where I awaited her. She put the door gently to,
slipped off her snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding,
unconscious of my espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I
suddenly rose and revealed myself. The surprise petrified her an
instant: she uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and stood fixed.
    "My dear Miss Catherine," I began, too vividly impressed by her
recent kindness to break into a scold, "where have you been riding out
at this hour? And why should you try to deceive me, by telling a tale?
Where have you been? Speak."
    "To the bottom of the park," she stammered. "I didn't tell a
tale."
    "And nowhere else?" I demanded.
    "No," was the muttered reply.
    "Oh, Catherine!" I cried sorrowfully. "You know you have been
doing wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me.
That does grieve me. I'd rather be three months ill, than hear you
frame a deliberate lie."
    She sprang forward, and bursting into tears, threw her arms
round my neck.
    "Well, Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry," she said.
"Promise not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth: I hate to
hide it."
    We sat down in the window-seat; I assured her I would not scold,
whatever her secret might be, and I guessed it of course; so she
commenced:
    "I've been to Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I've never missed
going a day since you fell ill; except thrice before, and twice
after you left your room. I gave Michael books and pictures to prepare
Minny every evening, and to put her back in the stable: you mustn't
scold him either, mind. I was at the Heights by half-past six, and
generally stayed till half-past eight, and then galloped home. It
was not to amuse myself that I went: I was often wretched all the
time. Now and then I was happy; once in a week perhaps. At first, I
expected there would be sad work persuading you to let me keep my word
to Linton; for I had engaged to call again next day, when we quitted
him; but, as you stayed upstairs on the morrow, I escaped that
trouble. While Michael was refastening the lock of the park door in
the afternoon, I got possession of the key, and told him how my cousin
wished me to visit him, because he was sick, and couldn't come to
the Grange; and how papa would object to my going: and then I
negotiated with him about the pony. He is fond of reading, and he
thinks of leaving soon to get married; so he offered, if I would
lend him books out of the library, to do what I wished: but I
preferred giving him my own, and that satisfied him better.
    "On my second visit, Linton seemed in lively spirits; and Zillah
(that is their housekeeper) made us a clean room and a good fire,
and told us that, as Joseph was out at a prayer-meeting and Hareton
Earnshaw was off with his dogs- robbing our woods of pheasants, as I
heard afterwards- we might do what we liked. She brought me some
warm wine and gingerbread, and appeared exceedingly good-natured;
and Linton sat in the arm chair, and I in the little rocking-chair
on the hearth-stone, and we laughed and talked so merrily, and found
so much to say: we planned where we would go, and what we would do
in summer. I needn't repeat that, because you would call it silly.
    "One time, however, we were near quarrelling. He said the
pleasantest manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning
till evening on a bank of heath in the middle of the moors, with the
bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, and the larks singing
high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and
cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness:
mine was rocking in a rustling green tree, with a west wind blowing,
and bright white clouds flitting rapidly above; and not only larks,
but throstles, and blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring out
music on every side, and the moors seen at a distance, broken into
cool dusky dells; but close by great swells of long grass undulating
in waves to the breeze; and woods and sounding water, and the whole
world awake and wild with joy. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of
peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said
his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be
drunk; I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not
breathe in mine, and began to grow very snappish. At last, we agreed
to try both, as soon as the right weather came; and then we kissed
each other and were friends.
    "After sitting still an hour, I looked at the great room with
its smooth uncarpeted floor, and thought how nice it would be to
play in, if we removed the table; and I asked Linton to call Zillah in
to help us, and we'd have a game at blind-man's buff; she should try
to catch us: you used to, you know, Ellen. He wouldn't: there was no
pleasure in it, he said; but he consented to play at ball with me.
We found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops, and
hops, and battledores, and shuttlecocks. One was marked C., and the
other H.; I wished to have the C., because that stood for Catherine,
and the H. might be for Heathcliff, his name; but the bran came out of
H., and Linton didn't like it. I beat him constantly, and he got cross
again, and coughed, and returned to his chair. That night, though,
he easily recovered his good humour: he was charmed with two or
three pretty songs- your songs, Ellen; and when I was obliged to go,
he begged and entreated me to come the following evening; and I
promised. Minny and I went flying home as light as air; and I dreamt
of Wuthering Heights and my sweet, darling cousin, till morning.
    "On the morrow I was sad; partly because you were poorly, and
partly that I wished my father knew, and approved of my excursions:
but it was beautiful moonlight after tea; and, as I rode on, the gloom
cleared. I shall have another happy evening, I thought to myself;
and what delights me more, my pretty Linton will. I trotted up their
garden, and was turning round to the back, when that fellow Earnshaw
met me, took my bridle, and bid me go in by the front entrance. He
patted Minny's neck, and said she was a bonny beast, and appeared as
if he wanted me to speak to him. I only told him to leave my horse
alone, or else it would kick him. He answered in his vulgar accent,
'It wouldn't do mitch hurt if it did'; and surveyed its legs with a
smile. I was half inclined to make it try; however, he moved off to
open the door, and, as he raised the latch, he looked up to the
inscription above, and said, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness
and elation:
    "'Miss Catherine! I can read yon, now.'
    "'Wonderful,' I exclaimed. 'Pray let us hear you- you are grown
clever!'
    "He spelt, and drawled over by syllables, the name- 'Hareton
Earnshaw.'
    "'And the figures?' I cried encouragingly, perceiving that he
came to a dead halt.
    "'I cannot tell them yet," he answered.
    "'Oh, you dunce!' I said, laughing heartily at his failure.
    "The fool stared, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl
gathering over his eyes, as if uncertain whether he might not join
in my mirth: whether it were not pleasant familiarity, or what it
really was, contempt. I settled his doubts, by suddenly retrieving
my gravity and desiring him to walk away, for I came to see Linton,
not him. He reddened- I saw that by the moonlight- dropped his hand
from the latch, and skulked off a picture of mortified vanity. He
imagined himself to be as accomplished as Linton, I suppose, because
he could spell his own name; and was marvellously discomfited that I
didn't think the same."
    "Stop, Miss Catherine, dear!" I interrupted. "I shall not scold,
but I don't like your conduct there. If you had remembered that
Hareton was your cousin as much as Master Heathcliff, you would have
felt how improper it was to behave in that way. At least, it was
praiseworthy ambition for him to desire to be as accomplished as
Linton; and probably he did not learn merely to show off. you had made
him ashamed of his ignorance before, I have no doubt; and he wished to
remedy it and please you. To sneer at his imperfect attempt was very
bad breeding. Had you been brought up in his circumstances, would
you be less rude? He was as quick and as intelligent a child as ever
you were; and I'm hurt that he should be despised now, because that
base Heathcliff has treated him so unjustly."
    "Well, Ellen, you won't cry about it, will you?" she exclaimed,
surprised at my earnestness. "But wait, and you shall hear if he
conned his A B C to please me; and if it were worth while being
civil to the brute. I entered; Linton was lying on the settle, and
half got up to welcome me.
    "'I'm ill to-night, Catherine, love,' he said; 'and you must have
all the talk, and let me listen. Come, and sit by me. I was sure you
wouldn't break your word, and I'll make you promise again, before
you go.'
    "I knew now that I mustn't tease him, as he was ill; and I spoke
softly and put no questions, and avoided irritating him in any way.
I had brought some of my nicest books for him; he asked me to read a
little of one, and I was about to comply, when Earnshaw burst the door
open: having gathered venom with reflection. He advanced direct to us,
seized Linton by the arm, and swung him off the seat.
    "'Get to thy own room!' he said, in a voice almost inarticulate
with passion; and his face looked swelled and furious. 'Take her there
if she comes to see thee; thou shalln't keep me out of this. Begone
wi' ye both!'
    "He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer, nearly
throwing him into the kitchen; and he clenched his fist as I followed,
seemingly longing to knock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I
let one volume fall; he kicked it after me, and shut us out. I heard a
malignant, cracky laugh by the fire, and turning, beheld that odious
Joseph standing rubbing his bony hands, and quivering.
    "'I wer sure he'd sarve ye out! He's grand lad! He's getten t'
raight sperrit in him! He knaws- Ay, he knaws, as weel as I do, who
sud be t' maister yonder- Ech, ech, ech! He made ye skift properly!
Ech, ech, ech!'
    "'Where must we go?' I asked of my cousin, disregarding the old
wretch's mockery.
    "Linton was white and trembling. He was not pretty then, Ellen: oh
no! he looked frightful; for his thin face and large eyes were wrought
into an expression of frantic, powerless fury. He grasped the handle
of the door, and shook it: it was fastened inside.
    "If you don't let me in I'll kill you!- If you don't let me in,
I'll kill you!" he rather shrieked than said. 'Devil! devil!- I'll
kill you- I'll kill you!"
    "Joseph uttered his croaking laugh again.
    "'Thear, that's t' father!' he cried. 'That's father! We've allas
summut o' either side in us. Niver heed, Hareton, lad- dunnut be
'feared- he cannot get at thee!'
    "I took hold of Linton's hands, and tried to pull him away; but he
shrieked so shockingly that I dared not proceed. At last his cries
were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing; blood gushed from his
mouth, and he fell on the ground. I ran into the yard, sick with
terror; and called for Zillah, as loud as I could. She soon heard
me: she was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn, and hurrying
from her work, she enquired what there was to do? I hadn't breath to
explain; dragging her in, I looked about for Linton. Earnshaw had come
out to examine the mischief he had caused, and he was then conveying
the poor thing upstairs. Zillah and I ascended after him; but he
stopped me at the top of the steps, and said I shouldn't go in: I must
go home. I exclaimed that he had killed Linton, and I would enter.
Joseph locked the door, and declared I should do 'no sich stuff,'
and asked me whether I were 'bahn to be as mad as him.' I stood
crying, till the housekeeper reappeared. She affirmed he would be
better in a bit, but he couldn't do with that shrieking and din; and
she took me, and nearly carried me into the house.
    "Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head! I sobbed and wept
so that my eyes were almost blind; and the ruffian you have such
sympathy with stood opposite: presuming every now and then to bid me
'wisht,' and denying that it was his fault; and, finally, frightened
by my assertions that I would tell papa, and that he should be put
in prison and hanged, he commenced blubbering himself, and hurried out
to hide his cowardly agitation. Still, I was not rid of him: when at
length they compelled me to depart, and I had gone some hundred
yards off the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow of the
roadside, and checked Minny and took hold of me.
    "'Miss Catherine, I'm ill grieved,' he began, 'but it's rayther
too bad-'
    "I gave him a cut with my whip, thinking perhaps he would murder
me. He let go, thundering one of his horrid curses, and I galloped
home more than half out of my senses.
    "I didn't bid you good night that evening, and I didn't go to
Wuthering Heights the next: I wished to go exceedingly; but I was
strangely excited, and dreaded to hear that Linton was dead,
sometimes; and sometimes shuddered at the thought of encountering
Hareton. On the third day I took courage: at least, I couldn't bear
longer suspense, and stole off once more. I went at five o'clock,
and walked; fancying I might manage to creep into the house, and up to
Linton's room, unobserved. However, the dogs gave notice of my
approach. Zillah received me, and saying, 'the lad was mending
nicely,' showed me into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to
my inexpressible joy, I beheld Linton laid on a little sofa, reading
one of my books. But he would neither speak to me nor look at me,
through a whole hour. Ellen: he has such an unhappy temper. And what
quite confounded me, when he did open his mouth, it was to utter the
falsehood that I had occasioned the uproar, and Hareton was not to
blame! Unable to reply, except passionately, I got up and walked
from the room. He sent after me a faint 'Catherine!' He did not reckon
on being answered so: but I wouldn't turn back; and the morrow was the
second day on which I stayed at home, nearly determined to visit him
no more. But it was so miserable going to bed and getting up, and
never hearing anything about him, that my resolution melted into air
before it was properly formed. It had appeared wrong to take the
journey once; now it seemed wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask if
he must saddle Minny; I said 'Yes,' and considered myself doing a duty
as she bore me over the hills. I was forced to pass the front
windows to get to the court: it was no use trying to conceal my
presence.
    "'Young master is in the house,' said Zillah, as she saw me
making for the parlour. I went in; Earnshaw was there also, but he
quitted the room directly. Linton sat in the great arm-chair half
asleep; walking up to the fire, I began in a serious tone, partly
meaning it to be true:
    "'As you don't like me, Linton, and as you think I come on
purpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is
our last meeting: let us say good-bye; and tell Mr. Heathcliff that
you have no wish to see me, and that he mustn't invent any more
falsehoods on the subject.'
    "'Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine,' he answered. 'You
are so much happier than I am, you ought to be better. Papa talks
enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me, to make it natural
I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I am not altogether as
worthless as he calls me frequently; and then I feel so cross and
bitter, I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad
in spirit, almost always; and, if you choose, you may say good-bye:
you'll get rid of an annoyance. Only, Catherine, do me this justice:
believe that if I might be as sweet, and as kind, and as good as you
are, I would be; as willingly, and more so, than as happy and as
healthy. And believe that your kindness has made me love you deeper
than if I deserved your love: and though I couldn't, and cannot help
showing my nature to you, I regret it and repent it; and shall
regret and repent it till I die!'
    "I felt he spoke the truth; and I felt I must forgive him: and,
though he should quarrel the next moment, I must forgive him again. We
were reconciled; but we cried, both of us, the whole time I stayed:
not entirely for sorrow; yet I was sorry Linton had that distorted
nature. He'll never let his friends be at ease, and he'll never be
at ease himself! I have always gone to his little parlour, since
that night; because his father returned the day after.
    "About three times, I think, we have been merry and hopeful, as we
were the first evening; the rest of my visits were dreary and
troubled: now with his selfishness and spite, and now with his
sufferings: but I've learned to endure the former with nearly as
little resentment as the latter. Mr. Heathcliff purposely avoids me: I
have hardly seen him at all. Last Sunday, indeed, coming earlier
than usual, I heard him abusing poor Linton, cruelly, for his
conduct of the night before. I can't tell how he knew of it, unless he
listened. Linton had certainly behaved provokingly; however, it was
the business of nobody but me, and I interrupted Mr. Heathcliff's
lecture by entering and telling him so. He burst into a laugh, and
went away, saying he was glad I took that view of the matter. Since
then, I've told Linton he must whisper his bitter things. Now,
Ellen, you have heard all. I can't be prevented from going to
Wuthering Heights, except by inflicting misery on two people; whereas,
if you'll only not tell papa, my going need disturb the tranquillity
of none. You'll not tell, will you? It will be very heartless if you
do."
    "I'll make up my mind on that point by to-morrow, Miss Catherine,"
I replied. "It requires some study; and so I'll leave you to your
rest, and go think it over."
    I thought it over aloud, in my master's presence; walking straight
from her room to his and relating the whole story: with the
exception of her conversations with her cousin, and any mention of
Hareton. Mr. Linton was alarmed and distressed, more than he would
acknowledge to me. In the morning, Catherine learnt my betrayal of her
confidence, and she learnt also that her secret visits were to end. In
vain she wept and writhed against the interdict, and implored her
father to have pity on Linton: all she got to comfort her was a
promise that he would write and give him leave to come to the Grange
when he pleased; but explaining that he must no longer expect to see
Catherine at Wuthering Heights. Perhaps, had he been aware of his
nephew's disposition and state of health, he would have seen fit to
withhold even that slight consolation.
                             CHAPTER 25

    "THESE THINGS happened last winter, sir," said Mrs. Dean; "hardly
more than a year ago. Last winter, I did not think, at another
twelve months' end, I should be amusing a stranger to the family
with relating them! Yet, who knows how long you'll be a stranger?
You're too young to rest always contented, living by yourself; and I
some way fancy no one could see Catherine Linton and not love her. You
smile; but why do you look so lively and interested, when I talk about
her? and why have you asked me to hang her picture over your
fireplace? and why-"
    "Stop, my good friend!" I cried. "It may be very possible that I
should love her; but would she love me? I doubt it too much to venture
my tranquillity by running into temptation: and then my home is not
here. I'm of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. Go on. Was
Catherine obedient to her father's commands?"
    "She was," continued the housekeeper, "Her affection for him was
still the chief sentiment in her heart; and he spoke without anger: he
spoke in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid
perils and foes, where his remembered words would be the only aid that
he could bequeath to guide her. He said to me, a few days afterwards:
    "'I wish my nephew would write, Ellen, or call. Tell me,
sincerely, what you think of him: is he changed for the better, or
is there a prospect of improvement, as he grows a man?'
    "'He's very delicate, sir,' I replied; 'and scarcely likely to
reach manhood; but this I can say, he does not resemble his father;
and if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him, he would not be
beyond her control: unless she were extremely and foolishly indulgent.
However, master, you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with
him, and see whether he would suit her: it wants four years and more
to his being of age.'"
    Edgar sighed; and walking to the window, looked out towards
Gimmerton Kirk. It was a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone
dimly, and we could just distinguish the two fir-trees in the yards,
and the sparsely scattered gravestones.
    "I've prayed often," he half soliloquised, "for the approach of
what is coming; and now I begin to shrink, and fear it. I thought
the memory of the hour I came down that glen a bridegroom would be
less sweet than the anticipation that I was soon, in a few months, or,
possibly, weeks, to be carried up, and laid in its lonely hollow!
Ellen, I've been very happy with my little Cathy: through winter
nights and summer days she was a living hope at my side. But I've been
as happy musing by myself among those stones, under that old church:
lying, through the long June evenings, on the green mound of her
mother's grave, and wishing- yearning for the time when I might lie
beneath it. What can I do for Cathy? How must I quit her? I'd not care
one moment for Linton being Heathcliff's son; nor for his taking her
from me, if he could console her for my loss. I'd not care that
Heathcliff gained his ends, and triumphed in robbing me of my last
blessing! But should Linton be unworthy- only a feeble tool to his
father- I cannot abandon her to him! And, hard though it be to crush
her buoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her sad while I live,
and leaving her solitary when I die. Darling! I'd rather resign her to
God, and lay her in the earth before me."
    "Resign her to God as it is, sir," I answered, "and if we should
lose you- which may He forbid- under His providence, I'll stand her
friend and counsellor to the last. Miss Catherine is a good girl: I
don't fear that she will go wilfully wrong; and people who do their
duty are always finally rewarded."
    Spring advanced; yet my master gathered no real strength, though
he resumed his walks in the grounds with his daughter. To her
inexperienced notions, this itself was a sign of convalescence; and
then his cheek was often flushed, and his eyes were bright: she felt
sure of his recovering. On her seventeenth birthday, he did not
visit the churchyard: it was raining, and I observed:
    "You'll surely not go out to-night, sir?"
    He answered:
    "No, I'll defer it this year a little longer."
    He wrote again to Linton, expressing his great desire to see
him; and, had the invalid been presentable, I've no doubt his father
would have permitted him to come. As it was, being instructed, he
returned an answer, intimating that Mr. Heathcliff objected to his
calling at the Grange; but his uncle's kind remembrance delighted him,
and he hoped to meet him, sometimes, in his rambles, and personally to
petition that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly
divided.
    That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own.
Heathcliff knew he could plead eloquently for Catherine's company,
then.
    "I do not ask," he said, "that she may visit here; but, am I never
to see her, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you
forbid her to come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards
the Heights; and let us exchange a few words, in your presence! We
have done nothing to deserve this separation; and you are not angry
with me; you have no reason to dislike me, you allow, yourself. Dear
uncle! send me a kind note to-morrow, and leave to join you anywhere
you please, except at Thrushcross Grange. I believe an interview would
convince you that my father's character is not mine: he affirms I am
more your nephew than his son; and though I have faults which render
me unworthy of Catherine, she has excused them, and for her sake,
you should also. You enquire after my health- it is better; but
while I remain cut off from all hope, and doomed to solitude, or the
society of those who never did and never will like me, how can I be
cheerful and well?"
    Edgar, though he felt for the boy, could not consent to grant
his request; because he could not accompany Catherine. He said, in
summer, perhaps, they might meet: meantime, he wished him to
continue writing at intervals, and engaged to give him what advice and
comfort he was able by letter; being well aware of his hard position
in his family. Linton complied; and had he been unrestrained, would
probably have spoiled all by filling his epistles with complaints
and lamentations: but his father kept a sharp watch over him; and,
of course, insisted on every line that my master sent being shown; so,
instead of penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses,
the themes constantly uppermost in his thoughts, he harped on the
cruel obligation of being held asunder from his friend and love; and
gently intimated that Mr. Linton must allow an interview soon, or he
should fear he was purposely deceiving him with empty promises.
    Cathy was a powerful ally at home; and, between them, they at
length persuaded my master to acquiesce in their having a ride or a
walk together about once a week, under my guardianship, and on the
moors nearest the Grange: for June found him still declining. Though
he had set aside yearly a portion of his income for my young lady's
fortune, he had a natural desire that she might retain- or at least
return in a short time to- the house of her ancestors; and he
considered her only prospect of doing that was by a union with his
heir; he had no idea that the latter was failing almost as fast as
himself, nor had any one, I believe: no doctor visited the Heights,
and no one saw Master Heathcliff to make report of his condition among
us. I, for my part, began to fancy my forebodings were false, and that
he must be actually rallying, when he mentioned riding and walking
on the moors, and seemed so earnest in pursuing his object. I could
not picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and
wickedly as I afterwards learned Heathcliff had treated him, to compel
this apparent eagerness: his efforts redoubling the more imminently
his avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat by
death.
                             CHAPTER 26

    SUMMER was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly
yielded his assent to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on
our first ride to join her cousin. It was a close, sultry day:
devoid of sunshine, but with a sky too dappled and hazy to threaten
rain; and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide-stone, by
the cross-roads. On arriving there, however, a little herd-boy,
despatched as a messenger, told us that:
    "Maister Linton wer just o' this side th' Heights: and he'd be
mitch obleeged to us to gang on a bit further."
    "Then Master Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle,"
I observed: "he bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are off at
once."
    "Well, we'll turn our horses' heads round, when we reach him,"
answered my companion, "our excursion shall lie towards home."
    But when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a mile
from his own door, we found he had no horse; and we were forced to
dismount, and leave ours to graze. He lay on the heath, awaiting our
approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then he
walked so feebly, and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed:
    "Why, Master Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble,
this morning. How ill you do look!"
    Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment: she changed
the ejaculation of joy on her lips, to one of alarm; and the
congratulation on their long-postponed meeting, to an anxious enquiry,
whether he were worse than usual?
    "No- better- better!" he panted, trembling, and retaining her hand
as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered
timidly over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard
wildness the languid expression they once possessed.
    "But have you been worse," persisted his cousin; "worse than
when I saw you last; you are thinner, and-"
    "I'm tired," he interrupted hurriedly. "It is too hot for walking,
let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick- papa says
I grow so fast."
    Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her.
    "This is something like your paradise," said she, making an effort
at cheerfulness. "You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the
place and way each thought pleasantest? This is surely yours, only
there are clouds: but then they are so soft and mellow: it is nicer
than sunshine. Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the Grange
Park, and try mine."
    Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of; and he had
evidently great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His
lack of interest in the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity
to contribute to her entertainment, were so obvious that she could not
conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come over his
whole person and manner. The pettishness that might be caressed into
fondness, had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of the
peevish temper of a child which frets and teases on purpose to be
soothed, and more of the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed
invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the
good-humoured mirth of others as an insult. Catherine perceived, as
well as I did, that he held it rather a punishment, than a
gratification, to endure our company; and she made no scruple of
proposing, presently, to depart. That proposal, unexpectedly, roused
Linton from his lethargy, and threw him into a strange state of
agitation. He glanced fearfully towards the Heights, begging she would
remain another half-hour at least.
    "But I think," said Cathy, "you'd be more comfortable at home than
sitting here; and I cannot amuse you to-day, I see, by my tales, and
songs, and chatter: you have grown wiser than I, in these six
months; you have little taste for my diversions now: or else, if I
could amuse you, I'd willingly stay."
    "Stay to rest yourself," he replied. "And Catherine, don't think
or say that I'm very unwell: it is the heavy weather and heat that
make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, a great deal for
me. Tell uncle I'm in tolerable health, will you?"
    "I'll tell him that you say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you
are," observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious
assertion of what was evidently an untruth.
    "And be here again next Thursday," continued he, shunning her
puzzled gaze. "And give him my thanks for permitting you to come- my
best thanks, Catherine. And- and, if you did meet my father, and he
asked you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been extremely
silent and stupid: don't look sad and downcast, as you are doing-
he'll be angry."
    "I care nothing for his anger," exclaimed Cathy, imagining she
would be its object.
    "But I do," said her cousin, shuddering, "Don't provoke him
against me, Catherine, for he is very hard."
    "Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff?" I enquired. "Has he
grown weary of indulgence, and passed from passive to active hatred?"
    Linton looked at me, but did not answer; and, after keeping her
seat by his side another ten minutes, during which his head fell
drowsily on his breast, and he uttered nothing except suppressed moans
of exhaustion or pain, Cathy began to seek solace in looking for
bilberries, and sharing the produce of her researches with me: she did
not offer them to him, for she saw further notice would only weary and
annoy.
    "Is it half-an-hour now, Ellen?" she whispered in my ear, at last.
"I can't tell why we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be
wanting us back."
    "Well, we must not leave him asleep," I answered; "wait till he
wakes, and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your
longing to see poor Linton has soon evaporated!"
    "Why did he wish to see me?" returned Catherine. "In his
crossest humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his
present curious mood. It's just as if it were a task he was
compelled to perform- this interview- for fear his father should scold
him. But I'm hardly going to come to give Mr. Heathcliff pleasure;
whatever reason he may have for ordering Linton to undergo this
penance. And, though I'm glad he's better in health, I'm sorry he's so
much less pleasant, and so much less affectionate to me."
    "You think he is better in health then?" I said.
    "Yes," she answered; "because he always made such a great deal
of his sufferings, you know. He is not tolerably well, as he told me
to tell papa; but he's better, very likely."
    "There you differ with me, Miss Cathy," I remarked; "I should
conjecture him to be far worse."
    Linton here started from his slumber in bewildered terror, and
asked if any one had called his name.
    "No," said Catherine; "unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how you
manage to dose out of doors, in the morning."
    "I thought I heard my father," he gasped, glancing up to the
frowning nab above us. "You are sure nobody spoke?"
    "Quite sure," replied his cousin. "Only Ellen and I were disputing
concerning your health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when we
separated in winter? If you be I'm certain one thing is not
stronger- your regard for me: speak,- are you?"
    The tears gushed from Linton's eyes as he answered, "Yes, yes, I
am!" And, still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze
wandered up and down to detect its owner. Cathy rose. "For to-day we
must part," she said. "And I won't conceal that I have been sadly
disappointed with our meeting; though I'll mention it to nobody but
you: not that I stand in awe of Mr. Heathcliff."
    "Hush," murmured Linton: "for God's sake, hush! He's coming."
And he clung to Catherine's arm, striving to detain her; but at that
announcement she hastily disengaged herself, and whistled to Minny,
who obeyed her like a dog.
    "I'll be here next Thursday," she cried, springing to the saddle.
"Good-bye. Quick, Ellen!"
    And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure, so
absorbed was he in anticipating his father's approach.
    Before we reached home, Catherine's displeasure softened into a
perplexed sensation of pity and regret, largely blended with vague,
uneasy doubts about Linton's actual circumstances, physical and
social; in which I partook, though I counselled her not to say much;
for a second journey would make us better judges. My master
requested an account of our on-goings. His nephew's offering of thanks
was duly delivered, Miss Cathy gently touching on the rest: I also
threw little light on his enquiries, for I hardly knew what to hide,
and what to reveal.
                             CHAPTER 27

    SEVEN DAYS glided away, every one marking its course by the
henceforth rapid alteration of Edgar Linton's state. The havoc that
months had previously wrought was now emulated by the inroads of
hours. Catherine, we would fain have deluded yet: but her own quick
spirit refused to delude her: it divined in secret, and brooded on the
dreadful probability, gradually ripening into certainty. She had not
the heart to mention her ride, when Thursday came round; I mentioned
it for her, and obtained permission to order her out of doors: for the
library, where her father stopped a short time daily- the brief period
he could bear to sit up- and his chamber, had become her whole
world. She grudged each moment that did not find her bending over
his pillow, or seated by his side. Her countenance grew wan with
watching and sorrow, and my master gladly dismissed her to what he
flattered himself would be a happy change of scene and society;
drawing comfort from the hope that she would not now be left
entirely alone after his death.
    He had a fixed idea, I guessed by several observations he let
fall, that, as his nephew resembled him in person, he would resemble
him in mind; for Linton's letters bore few or no indications of his
defective character. And I, through pardonable weakness, refrained
from correcting the error; asking myself what good there would be in
disturbing his last moments with information that he had neither power
nor opportunity to turn to account.
    We deferred our excursion till the afternoon; a golden afternoon
of August: every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed
whoever respired it, though dying, might revive. Catherine's face
was just like the landscape- shadows and sunshine flitting over it
in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine
was more transient; and her poor little heart reproached itself for
even that passing forgetfulness of its cares.
    We discerned Linton watching at the same spot he had selected
before. My young mistress alighted, and told me that, as she was
resolved to stay a very little while, I had better hold the pony and
remain on horseback; but I dissented: I wouldn't risk losing sight
of the charge committed to me a minute; so we climbed the slope of
heath together. Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation
on this occasion: not the animation of high spirits though, nor yet of
joy; it looked more like fear.
    "It is late!" he said, speaking short and with difficulty, "Is not
your father very ill? I thought you wouldn't come."
    "Why won't you be candid?" cried Catherine, swallowing her
greeting. "Why cannot you say at once you don't want me? It is
strange, Linton, that for the second time you have brought me here
on purpose, apparently, to distress us both, and for no reason
besides!"
    Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half supplicating, half
ashamed; but his cousin's patience was not sufficient to endure this
enigmatical behaviour.
    "My father is very ill," she said; "and why am I called from his
bedside? Why didn't you send to absolve me from my promise, when you
wished I wouldn't keep it? Come! I desire an explanation: playing
and trifling are completely banished out of my mind; and I can't dance
attendance on your affectations now!"
    "My affectations!" he murmured; "what are they? For Heaven's sake,
Catherine, don't look so angry! Despise me as much as you please; I am
a worthless, cowardly wretch: I can't be scorned enough; but I'm too
mean for your anger. Hate my father, and spare me for contempt."
    "Nonsense!" cried Catherine, in a passion. "Foolish, silly boy!
And there! he trembles, as if I were really going to touch him! You
needn't bespeak contempt, Linton: anybody will have it spontaneously
at your service. Get off! I shall return home: it is folly dragging
you from the hearthstone, and pretending- what do we pretend? Let go
my frock! If I pitied you for crying and looking so very frightened,
you should spurn such pity. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this
conduct is. Rise, and don't degrade yourself into an abject reptile-
don't!"
    With streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had
thrown his nerveless frame along the ground: he seemed convulsed
with exquisite terror.
    "Oh!" he sobbed, "I cannot bear it! Catherine, Catherine, I'm a
traitor, too, and I dare not tell you! But leave me, and I shall be
killed! Dear Catherine, my life is in your hands: and you have said
you loved me, and if you did, it wouldn't harm you. You'll not go,
then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you will consent- and
he'll let me die with you!"
    My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise
him. The old feeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation,
and she grew thoroughly moved and alarmed.
    "Consent to what?" she asked. "To stay? Tell me the meaning of
this strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words, and
distract me! Be calm and frank, and confess at once all that weighs on
your heart. You wouldn't injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn't
let any enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I'll believe you are a
coward for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend."
    "But my father threatens me," gasped the boy, clasping his
attenuated fingers, "and I dread him- I dread him! I dare not tell!"
    "Oh, well!" said Catherine, with scornful compassion, "keep your
secret: I'm no coward. Save yourself: I'm not afraid."
    Her magnanimity provoked his tears: he wept wildly, kissing her
supporting hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was
cogitating what the mystery might be, and determined Catherine
should never suffer, to benefit him or any one else, by my good
will; when hearing a rustle among the ling, I looked up and saw Mr.
Heathcliff almost close upon us, descending the Heights. He didn't
cast a glance towards my companions, though they were sufficiently
near for Linton's sobs to be audible; but hailing me in the almost
hearty tone he assumed to none besides, and the sincerity of which I
couldn't avoid doubting, he said:
    "It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are
you at the Grange? Let us hear. The rumour goes," he added in a
lower tone, "that Edgar Linton is on his deathbed: perhaps they
exaggerate his illness!"
    "No; my master is dying," I replied: "It is true enough. A sad
thing it will be for us all, but a blessing for him!"
    "How long will he last, do you think?" he asked.
    "I don't know," I said.
    "Because," he continued, looking at the two young people, who were
fixed under his eye- Linton appeared as if he could not venture to
stir or raise his head, and Catherine could not move, on his
account- "because that lad yonder seems determined to beat me; and I'd
thank his uncle to be quick, and go before him. Hallo! has the whelp
been playing that game long? I did give him some lessons about
snivelling. Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton generally?"
    "Lively? no- he has shown the greatest distress," I answered.
"To see him, I should say, that instead of rambling with his
sweetheart on the hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a
doctor."
    "He shall be in a day or two," muttered Heathcliff. "But first-
get up, Linton! Get up!" he shouted. "Don't grovel on the ground
there: up, this moment!"
    Linton had sunk prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless
fear, caused by his father's glance towards him, I suppose: there
was nothing else to produce such humiliation. He made several
efforts to obey, but his little strength was annihilated for the time,
and he fell back again with a moan. Mr. Heathcliff advanced, and
lifted him to lean against a ridge of turf.
    "Now," said he, with curbed ferocity, "I'm getting angry; and if
you don't command that paltry spirit of yours- Damn you! get up
directly!"
    "I will, father," he panted. "Only, let me alone, or I shall
faint. I've done as you wished, I'm sure. Catherine will tell you that
I- that I- have been cheerful. Ah! keep by me, Catherine: give me your
hand."
    "Take mine," said his father; "stand on your feet. There now-
she'll lend you her arm: that's right, look at her. You would
imagine I was the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excite such horror.
Be so kind as to walk home with him, will you? He shudders if I
touch him."
    "Linton, dear!" whispered Catherine, "I can't go to Wuthering
Heights: papa has forbidden me. He'll not harm you: why are you so
afraid?"
    "I can never re-enter that house," he answered. "I'm not to
re-enter it without you!"
    "Stop!" cried his father. "We'll respect Catherine's filial
scruples. Nelly, take him in, and I'll follow your advice concerning
the doctor, without delay."
    "You'll do well," replied I. "But I must remain with my
mistress: to mind your son is not my business."
    "You are very stiff," said Heathcliff, "I know that: but you'll
force me to pinch the baby and make it scream before it moves your
charity. Come, then, my hero. Are you willing to return, escorted by
me?"
    He approached once more, and made as if he would seize the fragile
being; but, shrinking back, Linton clung to his cousin, and implored
her to accompany him, with a frantic importunity that admitted no
denial. However I disapproved, I couldn't hinder her: indeed, how
could she have refused him herself? What was filling him with dread we
had no means of discerning: but there he was, powerless under its
grip, and any addition seemed capable of shocking him into idiocy.
We reached the threshold: Catherine walked in, and I stood waiting
till she had conducted the invalid to a chair, expecting her out
immediately; when Mr. Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed:
    "My house is not stricken with the plague, Nelly; and I have a
mind to be hospitable to-day: sit down, and allow me to shut the
door."
    He shut and locked it also. I started.
    "You shall have tea before you go home," he added. "I am by
myself. Hareton is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and
Joseph are off on a journey of pleasure; and, though I'm used to being
alone, I'd rather have some interesting company, if I can get it. Miss
Linton, take your seat by him. I give you what I have: the present
is hardly worth accepting; but I have nothing else to offer. It is
Linton, I mean. How she does stare! It's odd what a savage feeling I
have to anything that seems afraid of me! Had I been born where laws
are less strict and tastes less dainty, I should treat myself to a
slow vivisection of those two, as an evening's amusement."
    He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, "By
hell! I hate them."
    "I'm not afraid of you!" exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear
the latter part of his speech. She stepped close up; her black eyes
flashing with passion and resolution. "Give me that key: I will have
it!" she said. "I wouldn't eat or drink here, if I were starving."
    Heathcliff had the key in his hand that remained on the table.
He looked up, seized with a sort of surprise at her boldness; or,
possibly, reminded by her voice and glance, of the person from whom
she inherited it. She snatched at the instrument, and half-succeeded
in getting it out of his loosened fingers: but her action recalled him
to the present; he recovered it speedily.
    "Now, Catherine Linton," he said, "stand off, or I shall knock you
down; and that will make Mrs. Dean mad."
    Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its
contents again. "We will go!" she repeated, exerting her utmost
efforts to cause the iron muscles to relax; and finding that her nails
made no impression, she applied her teeth pretty sharply. Heathcliff
glanced at me a glance that kept me from interfering a moment.
Catherine was too intent on his fingers to notice his face. He
opened them suddenly, and resigned the object of dispute; but, ere she
had well secured it, he seized her with the liberated hand, and,
pulling her on his knee, administered with the other a shower of
terrific slaps on the side of the head, each sufficient to have
fulfilled his threat, had she been able to fall.
    At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. "You
villain!" I began to cry, "you villain!" A touch on the chest silenced
me: I am stout, and soon put out of breath; and, what with that and
the rage, I staggered dizzily back, and felt ready to suffocate, or to
burst a blood-vessel. The scene was over in two minutes; Catherine,
released, put her two hands to her temples, and looked just as if
she were not sure whether her ears were off or on. She trembled like a
reed, poor thing, and leant against the table perfectly bewildered.
    "I know how to chastise children, you see," said the scoundrel
grimly, as he stooped to repossess himself of the key, which had
dropped to the floor. "Go to Linton now, as I told you; and cry at
your ease! I shall be your father, to-morrow- all the father you'll
have in a few days- and you shall have plenty of that. You can bear
plenty; you re no weakling: you shall have a daily taste, if I catch
such a devil of a temper in your eyes again!"
    Cathy ran to me instead of Linton, and knelt down and put her
burning cheek on my lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into a
corner of the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I
dare say, that the correction had lighted on another than him. Mr.
Heathcliff, perceiving us all confounded, rose, and expeditiously made
the tea himself. The cups and saucers were laid ready. He poured it
out, and handed me a cup.
    "Wash away your spleen," he said. "And help your own naughty pet
and mine. It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I'm going out to
seek your horses."
    Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit
somewhere. We tried the kitchen door, but that was fastened outside:
we looked at the windows- they were too narrow for even Cathy's little
figure.
    "Master Linton," I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned:
"you know what your diabolical father is after and you shall tell us
or I'll box your ears, as he has done your cousin's."
    "Yes, Linton, you must tell," said Catherine. "It was for your
sake I came; and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse."
    "Give me some tea, I'm thirsty, and then I'll tell you" he
answered. "Mrs. Dean, go away. I don't like you standing over me. Now,
Catherine, you are letting your tears fall into my cup. I won't
drink that. Give me another."
    Catherine pushed another to him, and wiped her face. I felt
disgusted at the little wretch's composure, since he was no longer
in terror for himself. The anguish he had exhibited on the moor
subsided as soon as ever he entered Wuthering Heights; so I guessed he
had been menaced with an awful visitation of wrath if he failed in
decoying us there; and, that accomplished, he had no further immediate
fears.
    "Papa wants us to be married," he continued, after sipping some of
the liquid. "And he knows your papa wouldn't let us marry now; and
he's afraid of my dying, if we wait; so we are to be married in the
morning, and you are to stay here all night; and if you do as he
wishes, you shall return home next day, and take me with you."
    "Take you with her, pitiful changeling?" I exclaimed. "You
marry? Why, the man is mad; or he thinks us fools, every one. And do
you imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy, hearty girl, will
tie herself to a little perishing monkey like you! Are you
cherishing the notion that anybody, let alone Miss Catherine Linton,
would have you for a husband? You want whipping for bringing us in
here at all, with your dastardly puling tricks; and- don't look so
silly, now! I've a very good mind to shake you severely, for your
contemptible treachery, and your imbecile conceit."
    I did give him a slight shaking; but it brought on the cough,
and he took to his ordinary resource of moaning and weeping, and
Catherine rebuked me.
    "Stay all night? No," she said, looking slowly round. "Ellen, I'll
burn that door down, but I'll get out."
    And she would have commenced the execution of her threat directly,
but Linton was up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her
in his two feeble arms, sobbing: "Won't you have me,' and save me? not
let me come to the Grange? Oh, darling Catherine! you mustn't go and
leave, after all. You must obey my father- you must!"
    "I must obey my own," she replied, "and relieve him from this
cruel suspense. The whole night! What would he think? he'll be
distressed already. I'll either break or burn a way out of the
house. Be quiet! You're in no danger; but if you hinder me- Linton,
I love papa better than you!"
    The mortal terror he felt of Mr. Heathcliff's anger, restored to
the boy his coward's eloquence. Catherine was near distraught:
still, she persisted that she must go home, and tried entreaty in
her turn, persuading him to subdue his selfish agony. While they
were thus occupied, our gaoler re-entered.
    "Your beasts have trotted off," he said, "and- now, Linton!
snivelling again? What has she been doing to you? Come, come- have
done, and get to bed. In a month or two, my lad, you'll be able to pay
her back her present tyrannies with a vigorous hand. You're pining for
pure love, are you not? nothing else in the world: and she shall
have you! There, to bed! Zillah won't be here tonight; you must
undress yourself. Hush! hold your noise! Once in your own room, I'll
not come near you: you needn't fear. By chance you've managed
tolerably. I'll look to the rest."
    He spoke these words, holding the door open for his son to pass;
and the latter achieved his exit exactly as a spaniel might, which
suspected the person who attended on it of designing a spiteful
squeeze. The lock was resecured. Heathcliff approached the fire, where
my mistress and I stood silent. Catherine looked up, and instinctively
raised her hand to her cheek: his neighbourhood revived a painful
sensation. Anybody else would have been incapable of regarding the
childish act with sternness, but he scowled on her and muttered:
    "Oh! you are not afraid of me? Your courage is well disguised: you
seem damnably afraid!"
    "I am afraid now," she replied, "because, if I stay, papa will
be miserable; and how can I endure making him miserable;- when he-
when he- Mr. Heathcliff, let me go home! I promised to marry Linton:
papa would like me to: and I love him. Why should you wish to force me
to do what I'll willingly do of myself?"
    "Let him dare to force you!" I cried. "There's a law in the
land, thank God there is; though we be in an out-of-the-way place. I'd
inform if he were my own son: and it's felony without benefit of
clergy!"
    "Silence!" said the ruffian. "To the devil with your clamour! I
don't want you to speak. Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself
remarkably in thinking your father will be miserable: I shall not
sleep for satisfaction. You could have hit on no surer way of fixing
your residence under my roof for the next twenty-four hours, than
informing me that such an event would follow. As to your promise to
marry Linton, I'll take care you shall keep it; for you shall not quit
this place till it is fulfilled."
    "Send Ellen, then, to let papa know I'm safe!" exclaimed
Catherine, weeping bitterly. "Or marry me now. Poor papa! Ellen, he'll
think we're lost. What shall we do?"
    "Not he! He'll think you are tired of waiting on him, and run
off for a little amusement," answered Heathcliff. "You cannot deny
that you entered my house of your own accord, in contempt of his
injunctions to the contrary. And it is quite natural that you should
desire amusement at your age; and that you would weary of nursing a
sick man, and that man only your father. Catherine, his happiest
days were over when your days began. He cursed you, I dare say, for
coming into the world (I did, at least); and it would just do if he
cursed you as he went out of it. I'd join him. I don't love you! How
should I? Weep away. As far as I can see, it will be your chief
diversion hereafter; unless Linton make amends for other losses: and
your provident parent appears to fancy he may. His letters of advice
and consolation entertained me vastly. In his last he recommended my
jewel to be careful of his; and kind to her when he got her. Careful
and kind- that's paternal. But Linton requires his whole stock of care
and kindness for himself. Linton can play the little tyrant well.
He'll undertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn
and their claws pared. You'll be able to tell his uncle fine tales
of his kindness, when you get home again, I assure you."
    "You're right there!" I said; "explain your son's character.
Show his resemblance to yourself; and then, I hope, Miss Cathy will
think twice before she takes the cockatrice!
    "I don't much mind speaking of his amiable qualities now," he
answered; "because she must either accept him or remain a prisoner,
and you along with her, till your master dies. I can detain you
both, quite concealed, here. If you doubt, encourage her to retract
her word, and you'll have an opportunity of judging!"
    "I'll not retract my word," said Catherine. "I'll marry him within
this hour, if I may go to Thrushcross Grange afterwards. Mr.
Heathcliff, you're a cruel man, but you're not a fiend; and you
won't from mere malice, destroy irrevocably all my happiness. If
papa thought I had left him on purpose, and if he died before I
returned, could I bear to live? I've given over crying: but I'm
going to kneel here, at your knee; and I'll not get up, and I'll not
take my eyes from your face till you look back at me! No, don't turn
away! do look! You'll see nothing to provoke you. I don't hate you.
I'm not angry that you struck me. Have you never loved anybody in
all your life, uncle? never? Ah, you must look once. I'm so
wretched, you can't help being sorry and pitying me."
    "Keep your eft's fingers off; and move, or I'll kick you!" cried
Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. "I'd rather be hugged by a
snake. How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I detest you!"
    He shrugged his shoulders: shook himself, indeed, as if his
flesh crept with aversion; and thrust back his chair; while I got
up, and opened my mouth, to commence a downright torrent of abuse. But
I was rendered dumb in the middle of the first sentence, by a threat
that I should be shown into a room by myself the very next syllable
I uttered. It was growing dark- we heard a sound of voices at the
garden gate. Our host hurried out instantly: he had his wits about
him; we had not. There was a talk of two or three minutes, and he
returned alone.
    "I thought it had been your cousin Hareton," I observed to
Catherine. "I wish he would arrive! Who knows but he might take our
part?"
    "It was three servants sent to seek you from the Grange," said
Heathcliff, overhearing me. "You should have opened a lattice and
called out: but I could swear that chit is glad you didn't. She's glad
to be obliged to stay, I'm certain."
    At learning the chance we had missed, we both gave vent to our
grief without control; and he allowed us to wail on till nine o'clock.
Then he bid us go upstairs, through the kitchen, to Zillah's
chamber; and I whispered my companion to obey: perhaps we might
contrive to get through the window there, or into a garret, and out by
its skylight. The window, however, was narrow, like those below, and
the garret trap was safe from our attempts; for we were fastened in as
before. We neither of us lay down: Catherine took her station by the
lattice, and watched anxiously for morning; a deep sigh being the only
answer I could obtain to my frequent entreaties that she would try
to rest. I seated myself in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing
harsh judgment on my many derelictions of duty; from which, it
struck me then, all the misfortunes of my employers sprang. It was not
the case, in reality, I am aware; but it was, in my imagination,
that dismal night; and I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than
I.
    At seven o'clock he came, and enquired if Miss Linton had risen.
She ran to the door immediately, and answered, "Yes." "Here, then," he
said, opening it, and pulling her out. I rose to follow, but he turned
the lock again. I demanded my release.
    "Be patient," he replied: "I'll send up your breakfast in a
while."
    I thumped on the panels, and rattled the latch angrily; and
Catherine asked why I was still shut up? He answered, I must try to
endure it another hour, and they went away. I endured it two or
three hours; at length, I heard a footstep: not Heathcliff's.
    "I've brought you something to eat," said a voice; "oppen t'
door!"
    Complying eagerly, I beheld Hareton, laden with food enough to
last me all day.
    "Take it," he added, thrusting the tray into my hand.
    "Stay one minute," I began.
    "Nay," cried he, and retired, regardless of any prayers I could
pour forth to detain him.
    And there I remained enclosed the whole day, and the whole of
the next night; and another, and another. Five nights and four days
I remained, altogether, seeing nobody but Hareton, once every morning;
and he was a model of a gaoler: surly, and dumb, and deaf to every
attempt at moving his sense of justice or compassion.
                             CHAPTER 28

    ON THE FIFTH morning, or rather afternoon, a different step
approached- lighter and shorter; and, this time, the person entered
the room.- It was Zillah; donned in her scarlet shawl, with a black
silk bonnet on her head, and a willow basket swung to her arm.
    "Eh, dear! Mrs. Dean!" she exclaimed. "Well! there is a talk about
you at Gimmerton. I never thought but you were sunk in the
Blackhorse marsh, and missy with you, till master told me you'd been
found, and he'd lodged you here! What! and you must have got on an
island, sure? And how long were you in the hole? Did master save
you, Mrs. Dean? But you're not so thin- you've not been so poorly,
have you?"
    "Your master is a true scoundrel!" I replied. "But he shall answer
for it. He needn't have raised that tale: it shall all be laid bare!"
    "What do you mean?" asked Zillah. "It's not his tale; they tell
that in the village- about your being lost in the marsh: and I calls
to Earnshaw, when I come in- 'Eh, they's queer things, Mr. Hareton,
happened since I went off. It's a sad pity of that likely young
lass, and cant Nelly Dean.' He stared. I thought he had not heard
aught, so I told him the rumour. The master listened, and he just
smiled to himself, and said, 'If they have been in the marsh, they are
out now, Zillah. Nelly Dean is lodged, at this minute, in your room.
You can tell her to flit, when you go up; here is the key. The
bog-water got into her head, and she would have run home quite
flighty; but I fixed her till she came round to her senses. You can
bid her go to the Grange at once, if she be able, and carry a
message from me, that her young lady will follow in time to attend the
squire's funeral."
    "Mr. Edgar is not dead?" I gasped. "Oh! Zillah, Zillah!"
    "No, no; sit you down, my good mistress," she replied, "you're
right sickly yet. He's not dead; Doctor Kenneth thinks he may last
another day. I met him on the road and asked."
    Instead of sitting down, I snatched my outdoor things, and
hastened below, for the way was free. On entering the house, I
looked about for some one to give information of Catherine. The
place was filled with sunshine, and the door stood wide open; but
nobody seemed at hand. As I hesitated whether to go off at once, or
return and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the
hearth. Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of
sugar-candy, and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes. "Where
is Miss Catherine?" I demanded sternly, supposing I could frighten him
into giving intelligence, by catching him thus, alone. He sucked on
like an innocent.
    "Is she gone?" I said.
    "No," he replied; "she's upstairs: she's not to go, we won't let
her."
    "You won't let her, little idiot!" I exclaimed. "Direct me to
her room immediately, or I'll make you sing out sharply."
    "Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there,"
he answered. "He says I'm not to be soft with Catherine: she's my
wife, and it's shameful that she should wish to leave me. He says
she hates me and wants me to die, that she may have my money; but
she shan't have it: and she shan't go home! She never shall!- she
may cry, and be sick as much as she pleases!"
    He resumed his former occupation, closing his lids, as if he meant
to drop asleep.
    "Master Heathcliff," I resumed, "have you forgotten all
Catherine's kindness to you last winter, when you affirmed you loved
her, and when she brought you books and sung you songs, and came
many a time through wind and snow to see you? She wept to miss one
evening, because you would be disappointed; and you felt then that she
was a hundred times too good to you: and now you believe the lies your
father tells, though you know he detests you both. And you join him
against her. That's fine gratitude, is it not?"
    The corner of Linton's mouth fell, and he took the sugar-candy
from his lips.
    "Did she come to Wuthering Heights, because she hated you?" I
continued. "Think for yourself! As to your money, she does not even
know that you will have any. And you say she's sick; and yet, you
leave her alone, up there in a strange house! You who have felt what
it is to be so neglected! You could pity your own sufferings; and
she pitied them too; but you won't pity hers! I shed tears, Master
Heathcliff, you see- an elderly woman, and a servant merely- and
you, after pretending such affection, and having reason to worship her
almost, store every tear you have for yourself, and lie there quite at
ease. Ah! you're a heartless, selfish boy!"
    "I can't stay with her," he answered crossly. "I'll not stay by
myself. She cries so I can't bear it. And she won't give over,
though I say I'll call my father. I did call him once, and he
threatened to strangle her, if she was not quiet; but she began
again the instant he left the room, moaning and grieving all night
long, though I screamed for vexation that I couldn't sleep."
    "Is Mr. Heathcliff out?" I enquired, perceiving that the
wretched creature had no power to sympathise with his cousin's
mental tortures.
    "He's in the court," he replied, "talking to Dr. Kenneth; who says
uncle is dying, truly, at last. I'm glad, for I shall be master of the
Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It
isn't hers! It's mine: papa says everything she has is mine. All her
nice books are mine; she offered to give me them, and pretty birds,
and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of her room, and let her
out; but I told her she had nothing to give, they were all, all
mine. And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and
said I should not have that; two pictures in a gold case, on one
side her mother, and on the other, uncle, when they were young. That
was yesterday- I said they were mine, too; and tried to get them
from her. The spiteful thing wouldn't let me: she pushed me off, and
hurt me. I shrieked out- that frightens her- she heard papa coming,
and she broke the hinges and divided the case, and gave me her
mother's portrait; the other she attempted to hide: but papa asked
what was the matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away,
and ordered her to resign hers to me; she refused, and he- he struck
her down, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his
foot."
    "And were you pleased to see her struck?" I asked: having my
designs in encouraging his talk.
    "I winked," he answered: "I wink to see my father strike a dog
or a horse. he does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first- she
deserved punishing for pushing me: but when papa was gone, she made me
come to the window and showed me her cheek cut on the inside,
against her teeth, and her mouth filling with blood; and then she
gathered up the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her
face to the wall, and she has never spoken to me since: and I
sometimes think she can't speak for pain. I don't like to think so;
but she's a naughty thing for crying continually; and she looks so
pale and wild, I'm afraid of her."
    "And you can get the key if you choose?" I said.
    "Yes, when I'm upstairs," he answered; "but I can't walk
upstairs now."
    "In what apartment is it?" I asked.
    "Oh," he cried, "I shan't tell you where it is! It is our
secret. Nobody, neither Hareton nor Zillah, is to know. There!
you've tired me- go away, go away!" And he turned his face on to his
arm, and shut his eyes again.
    I considered it best to depart without seeing Mr. Heathcliff,
and bring a rescue for my young lady from the Grange. On reaching
it, the astonishment of my fellow-servants to see me, and their joy
also, was intense; and when they heard that their little mistress
was safe, two or three were about to hurry up and shout the news at
Mr. Edgar's door: but I bespoke the announcement of it, myself. How
changed I found him, even in those few days! He lay an image of
sadness and resignation waiting his death. Very young he looked;
though his actual age was thirty-nine, one would have called him ten
years younger, at least. He thought of Catherine; for he murmured
her name. I touched his hand, and spoke.
    "Catherine is coming, dear master!" I whispered; "she is alive and
well; and will be here, I hope, to-night."
    I trembled at the first effects of this intelligence: he half rose
up, looked eagerly round the apartment, and then sank back in a swoon.
As soon as he recovered, I related our compulsory visit, and detention
at the Heights. I said Heathcliff forced me to go in: which was not
quite true. I uttered as little as possible against Linton; nor did
I describe all his father's brutal conduct- my intentions being to add
no bitterness, if I could help it, to his already overflowing cup.
    He divined that one of his enemy's purposes was to secure the
personal property, as well as the estate, to his son: or rather
himself; yet why he did not wait till his decease was a puzzle to my
master, because ignorant how nearly he and his nephew would quit the
world together. However, he felt that his will had better be
altered: instead of leaving Catherine's fortune at her own disposal,
he determined to put it in the hands of trustees for her use during
life, and for her children, if she had any, after her. By that
means, it could not fall to Mr. Heathcliff should Linton die.
    Having received his orders, I despatched a man to fetch the
attorney, and four more, provided with serviceable weapons, to
demand my young lady of her gaoler. Both parties were delayed very
late. The single servant returned first. He said Mr. Green, the
lawyer, was out when he arrived at his house, and he had to wait two
hours for his re-entrance; and then Mr. Green told him he had a little
business in the village that must be done; but he would be at
Thrushcross Grange before morning. The four men came back
unaccompanied also. They brought word that Catherine was ill: too
ill to quit her room; and Heathcliff would not suffer them to see her.
I scolded the stupid fellows well for listening to that tale, which
I would not carry to my master; resolving to take a whole bevy up to
the Heights, at daylight, and storm it literally, unless the
prisoner were quietly surrendered to us. Her father shall see her, I
vowed, and vowed again, if that devil be killed on his own
doorstones in trying to prevent it!
    Happily, I was spared the journey and the trouble. I had gone
downstairs at three o'clock to fetch a jug of water; and was passing
through the hall with it in my hand, when a sharp knock at the front
door made me jump. "Oh! it is Green," I said, recollecting myself-
"only Green," and I went on, intending to send somebody else to open
it; but the knock was repeated: not loud, and still importunately. I
put the jug on the banister and hastened to admit him myself. The
harvest moon shone clear outside. It was not the attorney. My own
sweet little mistress sprang on my neck, sobbing:
    "Ellen! Ellen! is papa alive?"
    "Yes," I cried: "yes, my angel, he is. God be thanked, you are
safe with us again!"
    She wanted to run, breathless as she was, upstairs to Mr. Linton's
room; but I compelled her to sit down on a chair, and made her
drink, and washed her pale face, chafing it into a faint colour with
my apron. Then I said I must go first, and tell of her arrival;
imploring her to say, she should be happy with young Heathcliff. She
stared, but soon comprehending why I counselled her to utter the
falsehood, she assured me she would not complain.
    I couldn't abide to be present at their meeting. I stood outside
the chamber-door a quarter of an hour, and hardly ventured near the
bed, then. All was composed, however: Catherine's despair was as
silent as her father's joy. She supported him calmly, in appearance;
and he fixed on her features his raised eyes, that seemed dilating wih
ecstasy.
    He died blissfully, Mr. Lockwood: he died so. Kissing her cheek,
he murmured:
    "I am going to her; and you, darling child, shall come to us!" and
never stirred or spoke again; but continued that rapt, radiant gaze,
till his pulse imperceptibly stopped and his soul departed. None could
have noticed the exact minute of his death, it was so entirely without
a struggle.
    Whether Catherine had spent her tears, or whether the grief were
too weighty to let them flow, she sat there dry-eyed till the sun
rose; she sat till noon, and would still have remained brooding over
that deathbed, but I insisted on her coming away and taking some
repose. It was well I succeeded in removing her; for at dinner-time
appeared the lawyer, having called at Wuthering Heights to get his
instructions how to behave. He had sold himself to Mr. Heathcliff:
that was the cause of his delay in obeying my master's summons.
Fortunately, no thought of worldly affairs crossed the latter's
mind, to disturb him, after his daughter's arrival.
    Mr. Green took upon himself to order everything and everybody
about the place. He gave all the servants, but me, notice to quit.
He would have carried his delegated authority to the point of
insisting that Edgar Linton should not be buried beside his wife,
but in the chapel, with his family. There was the will, however, to
hinder that, and my loud protestations against any infringement of its
directions. The funeral was hurried over; Catherine, Mrs. Linton
Heathcliff now, was suffered to stay at the Grange till her father's
corpse had quitted it.
    She told me that her anguish had at last spurred Linton to incur
the risk of liberating her. She heard the men I sent disputing at
the door, and she gathered the sense of Heathcliff's answer. It
drove her desperate. Linton, who had been conveyed up to the little
parlour soon after I left, was terrified into fetching the key
before his father reascended. He had the cunning to unlock and re-lock
the door, without shutting it; and when he should have gone to bed, he
begged to sleep with Hareton, and his petition was granted for once.
Catherine stole out before break of day. She dare not try the doors,
lest the dogs should raise an alarm; she visited the empty chambers
and examined their windows; and, luckily, lighting on her mother's she
got easily out of its lattice, and on to the ground, by means of the
fir-tree close by. Her accomplice suffered for his share in the
escape, notwithstanding his timid contrivances.
                             CHAPTER 29

    THE EVENING after the funeral, my young lady and I were seated
in the library; now musing mournfully- one of us despairingly- on
our loss, now venturing conjectures as to the gloomy future.
    We had just agreed the best destiny which could await Catherine,
would be a permission to continue resident at the Grange; at least,
during Linton's life: he being allowed to join her there, and I to
remain as housekeeper. That seemed rather too favourable an
arrangement to be hoped for: and yet I did hope, and began to cheer up
under the prospect of retaining my home and my employment, and,
above all, my beloved young mistress; when a servant- one of the
discarded ones, not yet departed- rushed hastily in, and said "that
devil Heathcliff" was coming through the court: should he fasten the
door in his face?
    If we had been mad enough to order that proceeding, we had not
time. He made no ceremony of knocking or announcing his name: he was
master, and availed himself of the master's privilege to walk straight
in, without saying a word. The sound of our informant's voice directed
him to the library: he entered, and motioning him out, shut the door.
    It was the same room into which he had been ushered, as a guest,
eighteen years before: the same moon shone through the window; and the
same autumn landscape lay outside. We had not yet lighted a candle,
but all the apartment was visible, even to the portraits on the
wall: the splendid head of Mrs. Linton, and the graceful one of her
husband. Heathcliff advanced to the hearth. Time had little altered
his person either. There was the same man: his dark face rather
sallower and more composed, his frame a stone or two heavier, perhaps,
and no other difference. Catherine had risen, with an impulse to
dash out, when she saw him.
    "Stop!" he said, arresting her by the arm. "No more runnings away!
Where would you go? I'm come to fetch you home; and I hope you'll be a
dutiful daughter, and not encourage my son to further disobedience.
I was embarrassed how to punish him when I discovered his part in
the business: he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him; but
you'll see by his look that he has received his due! I brought him
down one evening, the day before yesterday, and just set him in a
chair, and never touched him afterwards. I sent Hareton out, and we
had the room to ourselves. In two hours, I called Joseph to carry
him up again; and since then my presence is as potent on his nerves as
a ghost; and I fancy he sees me often, though I am not near. Hareton
says he wakes and shrieks in the night by the hour together, and calls
you to protect him from me; and, whether you like your precious mate
or not, you must come; he's your concern now; I yield all my
interest in him to you."
    "Why not let Catherine continue here?" I pleaded, "and send Master
Linton to her. As you hate them both, you'd not miss them: they can
only be a daily plague to your unnatural heart."
    "I'm seeking a tenant for the Grange," he answered; "and I want my
children about me, to be sure. Besides, that lass owes me her services
for her bread. I'm not going to nurture her in luxury and idleness
after Linton has gone. Make haste and get ready, now; and don't oblige
me to compel you."
    "I shall," said Catherine. "Linton is all I have to love in the
world, and though you have done what you could to make him hateful
to me, and me to him, you cannot make us hate each other. And I defy
you to hurt him when I am by, and I defy you to frighten me!"
    "You are a boastful champion," replied Heathcliff; "but I don't
like you well enough to hurt him: you shall get the full benefit of
the torment, as long as it lasts. It is not I who will make him
hateful to you- it is his own sweet spirit. He's as bitter as gall
at your desertion and its consequences: don't expect thanks for this
noble devotion. I heard him draw a pleasant picture to Zillah of
what he would do if he were as strong as I: the inclination is
there, and his very weakness will sharpen his wits to find a
substitute for strength."
    "I know he has a bad nature," said Catherine: "he's your son.
But I'm glad I've a better, to forgive it; and I know he loves me, and
for that reason I love him. Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love
you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall still have the
revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery.
You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious
like him? Nobody loves you- nobody will cry for you when you die! I
wouldn't be you!"
    Catherine spoke with a kind of dreary triumph: she seemed to
have made up her mind to enter into the spirit of her future family,
and draw pleasure from the griefs of her enemies.
    "You shall be sorry to be yourself presently," said her
father-in-law, "if you stand there another minute. Begone, witch,
and get your things!"
    She scornfully withdrew. In her absence, I began to beg for
Zillah's place at the Heights, offering to resign mine to her; but
he would suffer it on no account. He bid me be silent; and then, for
the first time, allowed himself a glance round the room and a look
at the pictures. Having studied Mrs. Linton's, he said:
    "I shall have that home. Not because I need it, but-" He turned
abruptly to the fire, and continued, with what, for lack of a better
word, I must call a smile- "I'll tell you what I did yesterday! I
got the sexton, who was digging Linton's grave, to remove the earth
off her coffin-lid, and I opened it. I thought, once, I would have
stayed there: when I saw her face again- it is hers yet!- he had
hard work to stir me; but he said it would change if the air blew on
it, and so I struck one side of the coffin loose, and covered it up:
not Linton's side, damn him! I wish he'd been soldered in lead. And
I bribed the sexton to pull it away when I'm laid there, and slide
mine out too; I'll have it made so: and then, by the time Linton
gets to us he'll not know which is which!"
    "You were very wicked, Mr. Heathcliff!" I exclaimed, "were you not
ashamed to disturb the dead?"
    "I disturbed nobody, Nelly," he replied; "and I gave some ease
to myself. I shall be a great deal more comfortable now; and you'll
have a better chance of keeping me underground, when I get there.
Disturbed her? No! she has disturbed me, night and day, through
eighteen years- incessantly- remorselessly- till yesternight; and
yesternight I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the last sleep
by that sleeper, with my heart stopped and my cheek frozen against
hers."
    "And if she had been dissolved into earth, or worse, what would
you have dreamt of then?" I said.
    "Of dissolving with her, and being more happy still!" he answered.
"Do you suppose I dread any change of that sort? I expected such a
transformation on raising the lid: but I'm better pleased that it
should not commence till I share it. Besides, unless I had received
a distinct impression of her passionless features, that strange
feeling would hardly have been removed. It began oddly. You know I was
wild after she died; and eternally, from dawn to dawn, praying her
to return to me her spirit! I have a strong faith in ghosts: I have
a conviction that they can, and do, exist among us! The day she was
buried there came a fall of snow. In the evening I went to the
churchyard. It blew bleak as winter- all round was solitary. I
didn't fear that her fool of a husband would wander up the den so
late; and no one else had business to bring them there. Being alone,
and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between
us, I said to myself- 'I'll have her in my arms again! If she be cold,
I'll think it is this north wind that chills me; and if she be
motionless, it is sleep.' I got a spade from the toolhouse, and
began to delve with all my might- it scraped the coffin; I fell to
work with my hands; the wood commenced cracking about the screws; I
was on the point of attaining my object, when it seemed that I heard a
sigh from some one above, close at the edge of the grave, and
bending down. 'If I can only get this off,' I muttered, 'I wish they
may shovel in the earth over us both!' and I wrenched at it more
desperately still. There was another sigh, close at my ear. I appeared
to feel the warm breath of it displacing the sleet-laden wind. I
knew no living thing in flesh and blood was by; but, as certainly as
you perceive the approach to some substantial body in the dark, though
it cannot be discerned, so certainly I felt that Cathy was there:
not under me, but on the earth. A sudden sense of relief flowed from
my heart through every limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and
turned consoled at once: unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with
me: it remained while I refilled the grave, and led me home. You may
laugh, if you will; but I was sure I should see her there. I was
sure she was with me, and I could not help talking to her. Having
reached the Heights, I rushed eagerly to the door. It was fastened:
and, I remember that accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed my
entrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and
then hurrying upstairs, to my room and hers. I looked round
impatiently- I felt her by me- I could almost see her, and yet I could
not! I ought to have sweat blood then, from the anguish of my
yearning- from the fervour of my supplications to have but one
glimpse! I had not one. She showed herself, as she often was in
life, a devil to me! And, since then, sometimes more and sometimes
less, I've been the sport of that intolerable torture! Infernal!
keeping my nerves at such a stretch, that, if they had not resembled
catgut, they would long ago have relaxed to the feebleness of
Linton's. When I sat in the house with Hareton, it seemed that on
going out, I should meet her; when I walked on the moors I should meet
her coming in. When I went from home, I hastened to return: she must
be somewhere at the Heights, I was certain! And when I slept in her
chamber- I was beaten out of that. I couldn't lie there; for the
moment I closed my eyes, she was either outside the window, or sliding
back the panels, or entering the room, or even resting her darling
head on the same pillow as she did when a child; and I must open my
lids to see. And so I opened and closed them a hundred times a
night- to be always disappointed! It racked me! I've often groaned
aloud. till that old rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my
conscience was playing the fiend inside of me. Now, since I've seen
her, I'm pacified- a little. It was a strange way of killing! not by
inches, but by fractions and hairbreadths, to beguile me with the
spectre of a hope, through eighteen years!"
    Mr. Heathcliff paused and wiped his forehead; his hair clung to
it, wet with perspiration; his eyes were fixed on the red embers of
the fire, the brows not contracted, but raised next the temples;
diminishing the grim aspect of his countenance, but imparting a
peculiar look of trouble, and a painful appearance of mental tension
towards one absorbing subject. He only half addressed me, and I
maintained silence. I didn't like to hear him talk! After a short
period he resumed his meditation on the picture, took it down and
leant it against the sofa to contemplate it at better advantage; and
while so occupied Catherine entered, announcing that she was ready,
when her pony should be saddled.
    "Send that over to-morrow," said Heathcliff to me; then turning to
her, he added- "You may do without your pony: it is a fine evening,
and you'll need no ponies at Wuthering Heights; for what journeys
you take, your own feet will serve you. Come along."
    "Good-bye, Ellen!" whispered my dear little mistress. As she
kissed me, her lips felt like ice. "Come and see me, Ellen; don't
forget."
    "Take care you do no such thing, Mrs. Dean!" said her new
father. "When I wish to speak to you I'll come here. I want none of
your prying at my house!"
    He signed her to precede him; and casting back a look that cut
my heart, she obeyed. I watched them from the window, walk down the
garden. Heathcliff fixed Catherine's arm under his: though she
disputed the act at first evidently; and with rapid strides he hurried
her into the alley, whose trees concealed them.
                             CHAPTER 30

    I HAVE paid a visit to the Heights, but I have not seen her
since she left: Joseph held the door in his hand when I called to
ask after her, and wouldn't let me pass. He said Mrs. Linton was
"thrang," and the master was not in. Zillah has told me something of
the way they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was dead and
who living. She thinks Catherine haughty, and does not like her, I can
guess by her talk. My young lady asked some aid of her when she
first came; but Mr. Heathcliff told her to follow her own business,
and let his daughter-in-law look after herself; and Zillah willingly
acquiesced, being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherine evinced
a child's annoyance at this neglect; repaid it with contempt, and thus
enlisted my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had
done her some great wrong. I had a long talk with Zillah about six
weeks ago, a little before you came, one day when we foregathered on
the moor; and this is what she told me.
    "The first thing Mrs. Linton did," she said, "on her arrival at
the Heights, was to run upstairs, without even wishing good evening to
me and Joseph; she shut herself into Linton's room, and remained
till morning. Then, while the master and Earnshaw were at breakfast,
she entered the house, and asked all in a quiver if the doctor might
be sent for? her cousin was very ill.
    "'We know that!' answered Heathcliff; 'but his life is not
worth a farthing, and I won't spend a farthing on him.'
    "'But I cannot tell how to do,' she said; 'and if no body will
help me, he'll die!'
    "'Walk out of the room,' cried the master, 'and let me never hear
a word more about him! None here care what becomes of him; if you
do, act the nurse; if you do not, lock him up and leave him.'
    "Then she began to bother me, and I said I'd had enough plague
with the tiresome thing; we each had our tasks, and hers was to wait
on Linton, Mr. Heathcliff bid me leave that labour to her.
    "How they managed together, I can't tell. I fancy he fretted a
great deal, and moaned hisseln night and day; and she had precious
little rest: one could guess by her white face and heavy eyes. She
sometimes came into the kitchen all wildered like, and looked as if
she would fain beg assistance; but I was not going to disobey the
master: I never dare disobey him, Mrs. Dean; and, though I thought
it wrong that Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of
mine either to advise or complain, and I always refused to meddle.
Once or twice, after we had gone to bed, I've happened to open my door
again and seen her sitting crying on the stairs' top; and then I've
shut myself in quick, for fear of being moved to interfere. I did pity
her then, I'm sure: still I didn't wish to lose my place, you know.
    "At last, one night she came boldly into my chamber, and
frightened me out of my wits, by saying:
    "'Tell Mr. Heathcliff that his son is dying- I'm sure he is, this
time. Get up, instantly, and tell him.'
    "Having uttered this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter
of an hour listening and trembling. Nothing stirred- the house was
quiet.
    "She's mistaken, I said to myself. He's got over it. I needn't
disturb them; and I began to doze. But my sleep was marred a second
time by a sharp ringing of the bell- the only bell we have, put up
on purpose for Linton; and the master called to me to see what was the
matter, and inform them that he wouldn't have that noise repeated.
    "I delivered Catherine's message. He cursed to himself, and in a
few minutes came out with a lighted candle, and proceeded to their
room. I followed. Mrs. Heathcliff was seated by the bedside, with
her hands folded on her knees. Her father-in-law went up, held the
light to Linton's face, looked at him, and touched him; afterwards
he turned to her.
    "'Now- Catherine,' he said, 'how do you feel?'
    "She was dumb.
    "'How do you feel, Catherine?' he repeated.
    "'He's safe, and I'm free,' she answered: 'I should feel well-
but,' she continued, with a bitterness she couldn't conceal, 'you have
left me so long to struggle against death alone, that I feel and see
only death! I feel like death!'
    "And she looked like it, too! I gave her a little wine. Hareton
and Joseph, who had been wakened by the ringing and the sound of feet,
and heard our talk from outside, now entered. Joseph was fain, I
believe, of the lad's removal; Hareton seemed a thought bothered;
though he was more taken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of
Linton. But the master bid him get off to bed again: we didn't want
his help. He afterwards made Joseph remove the body to his chamber,
and told me to return to mine, and Mrs. Heathcliff remained by
herself.
    "In the morning, he sent me to tell her she must come down to
breakfast; she had undressed, and appeared going to sleep, and said
she was ill; at which I hardly wondered. I informed Mr. Heathcliff,
and he replied:
    "'Well, let her be till after the funeral; and go up now and then
to get her what is needful; and, as soon as she seems better, tell
me.'"
    Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, according to Zillah; who
visited her twice a day, and would have been rather more friendly, but
her attempts at increasing kindness were proudly and promptly
repelled.
    Heathcliff went up once, to show her Linton's will. He had
bequeathed the whole of his, and what had been her movable property to
his father: the poor creature was threatened, or coaxed, into that act
during her week's absence, when his uncle died. The lands, being a
minor, he could not meddle with. However, Mr. Heathcliff has claimed
and kept them in his wife's right and his also: I suppose legally:
at any rate, Catherine, destitute of cash and friends, cannot
disturb his possession.
    "Nobody," said Zillah, "approached her door, except that once, but
I; and nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of her
coming down into the house was on a Sunday afternoon. She had cried
out, when I carried up her dinner, that she couldn't bear any longer
being in the cold: and I told her the master was going to
Thrushcross Grange, and Earnshaw and I needn't hinder her from
descending; so, as soon as she heard Heathcliff's horse trot off,
she made her appearance donned in black, and her yellow curls combed
back behind her ears as plain as a Quaker: she couldn't comb them out.
    "Joseph and I generally go to chapel on Sundays"; the kirk, you
know, has no minister now, explained Mrs. Dean; and they call the
Methodists' or Baptists' place (I can't say which it is) at Gimmerton,
a chapel. "Joseph had gone," she continued, "but I thought proper to
bide at home. Young folks are always the better for an elder's
overlooking; and Hareton, with all his bashfulness, isn't a model of
nice behaviour. I let him know that his cousin would very likely sit
with us, and she had been always used to see the Sabbath respected; so
he had as good leave his guns and bits of indoor work alone, while she
stayed. He coloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands
and clothes. The train-oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a
minute. I saw he meant to give her his company; and I guessed, by
his way, he wanted to be presentable; so, laughing, as I durst not
laugh when the master is by, I offered to help him, if he would, and
joked at his confusion. He grew sullen, and began to swear.
    "Now, Mrs. Dean," Zillah went on, seeing me not pleased by her
manner, "you happen think your young lady too fine for Mr. Hareton;
and happen you're right: but I own I should love well to bring her
pride a peg lower. And what will all her learning and her daintiness
do for her, now? She's as poor as you or I: poorer, I'll be bound:
you're saving, and I'm doing my little all that road."
    Hareton allowed Zillah to give him her aid; and she flattered
him into a good humour: so, when Catherine came, half forgetting her
former insults, he tried to make himself agreeable, by the
housekeeper's account.
    "Missis walked in," she said, "as chill as an icicle, and as
high as a princess. I got up and offered her my seat in the
armchair. No, she turned up her nose at my civility. Earnshaw rose,
too, and bid her come to the settle, and sit close by the fire: he was
sure she was starved.
    "'I've been starved a month and more,' she answered, resting on
the word as scornful as she could.
    "And she got a chair for herself, and placed it at distance from
both of us. Having sat till she was warm, she began to look round, and
discovered a number of books in the dresser; she was instantly upon
her feet again, stretching to reach them: but they were too high up.
Her cousin, after watching her endeavours a while, at last summoned
courage to help her; she held her frock, and he filled it with the
first that came to hand.
    "That was a great advance for the lad. She didn't thank him;
still, he felt gratified that she had accepted his assistance, and
ventured to stand behind as she examined them, and even to stoop and
point out what struck his fancy in certain old pictures which they
contained; nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked
the page from his finger: he contended himself with going a bit
farther back, and looking at her instead of the book. She continued
reading, or seeking for something to read. His attention became, by
degrees, quite centered in the study of her thick, silky curls: her
face he couldn't see, and she couldn't see him. And, perhaps, not
quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, at
last he proceeded from staring to touching; he put out his hand and
stroke one curl, as gently as if it were a bird. He might have
struck a knife into her neck, she started round in such a taking.
    "'Get away, this moment! How dare you touch me? Why are you
stopping there?' she cried, in a tone of disgust. 'I can't endure you!
I'll go upstairs again, if you come near me.'
    "Mr. Hareton recoiled, looking as foolish as he could do: he sat
down in the settle very quiet, and she continued turning over her
volumes another half-hour; finally, Earnshaw crossed over, and
whispered to me:
    "'Will you ask her to read to us, Zillah? I'm stalled of doing
naugh; and I do like- I could like to hear her! Dunnot say I wanted
it, but ask of yourseln.'
    "'Mr. Hareton wishes you would read to us, ma'am,' I said
immediately. 'He'd take it very kind- he'd be much obliged.'
    "She frowned; and looking up, answered:
    "'Mr. Hareton, and the whole set of you, will be good enough to
understand that I reject any pretence at kindness you have the
hypocrisy to offer! I despise you, and will have nothing to say to any
of you! When I would have given my life for one kind word, even to see
one of your faces, you all kept off. But I won't complain to you!
I'm driven down here by the cold; not either to amuse you or enjoy
your society.'
    "'What could I ha' done?' began Earnshaw. 'How was I to blame?'
    "'Oh! you are an exception,' answered Mrs. Heathcliff, 'I never
missed such a concern as you.'
    "'But I offered more than once, and asked,' he said, kindling
up at her pertness, 'let me wake for you-'
    "'Be silent! I'll go out of doors, or anywhere, rather than
have your disagreeable voice in my ear!' said my lady.
    "Hareton muttered she might go to hell for him! and unslinging his
gun, restrained himself from his Sunday occupations no longer. He
talked now, freely enough; and she presently saw fit to retreat to her
solitude: but the frost had set in, and, in spite of her pride, she
was forced to condescend to our company, more and more. However, I
took care there should be no further scorning at my good-nature:
ever since, I've been as stiff as herself; and she has no lover or
liker among us: and she does not deserve one; for, let them say the
least word to her, and she'll curl back without respect to any one!
She'll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him to
thrash her; and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows."
    At first, on hearing this account from Zillah, I determined to
leave my situation, take a cottage, and get Catherine to come and live
with me: but Mr. Heathcliff would as soon permit that as he would
set up Hareton in an independent house; and I can see no remedy, at
present, unless she could marry again: and that scheme it does not
come within my province to arrange.
    Thus ended Mrs. Dean's story. Nothwithstanding the doctor's
prophecy, I am rapidly recovering strength; and though it be only
the second week in January, I propose getting out on horseback in a
day or two, and riding over to Wuthering Heights, to inform my
landlord that I shall spend the next six months in London; and, if
he likes, he may look out for another tenant to take the place after
October. I would not pass another winter here for much.
                             CHAPTER 31

    YESTERDAY was bright, calm, and frosty. I went to the Heights as I
proposed; my housekeeper entreated me to bear a little note from her
to her young lady, and I did not refuse, for the worthy woman was
not conscious of anything odd in her request. The front door stood
open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at my last visit; I
knocked, and invoked Earnshaw from among the garden beds; he unchained
it, and I entered. The fellow is as handsome a rustic as need be seen.
I took particular notice of him this time; but then he does his
best, apparently, to make the least of his advantages. I asked if
Mr. Heathcliff were at home? He answered, No; but he would be in at
dinner-time. It was eleven o'clock, and I announced my intention of
going in and waiting for him, at which he immediately flung down his
tools and accompanied me, in the office of watchdog, not as a
substitute for the host.
    We entered together; Catherine was there, making herself useful in
preparing some vegetables for the approaching meal; she looked more
sulky and less spirited then when I had seen her first. She hardly
raised her eyes to notice me, and continued her employment with the
same disregard to common forms of politeness as before; never
returning my bow and good-morning by the slightest acknowledgment.
    "She does not seem so amiable," I thought, "as Mrs. Dean would
persuade me to believe. She's a beauty, it is true; but not an angel."
    Earnshaw surlily bid her remove her things to the kitchen. "Remove
them yourself," she said, pushing them from her as soon as she had
done; and retiring to a stool by the window, where she began to
carve figures of birds and beasts out of the turnip parings in her
lap. I approached her, pretending to desire a view of the garden; and,
as I fancied, adroitly dropped Mrs. Dean's note onto her knee,
unnoticed by Hareton- but she asked aloud, "What is that?" and chucked
it off.
    "A letter from your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at the
Grange," I answered; annoyed at her exposing my kind deed, and fearful
it should be imagined a missive of my own. She would gladly have
gathered it up at this information, but Hareton beat her; he seized
and put it in his waistcoat, saying Mr. Heathcliff should look at it
first. Thereat, Catherine silently turned her face from us, and,
very stealthily, drew out her pocket-handkerchief and applied it to
her eyes; and her cousin, after struggling a while to keep down his
softer feelings, pulled out the letter and flung it on the floor
beside her, as ungraciously as he could. Catherine caught and
perused it eagerly; then she put a few questions to me concerning
the inmates, rational and irrational, of her former home; and gazing
towards the hills, murmured in soliloquy:
    "I should like to be riding Minny down there! I should like to
be climbing up there! Oh! I'm tired- I'm stalled, Hareton!" And she
leant her pretty head back against the sill, with a half a yawn and
a half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness:
neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.
    "Mrs. Heathcliff," I said, after sitting some time mute, "you
are not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours? so intimate that I
think it strange you won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper
never wearies of talking about and praising you; and she'll be greatly
disappointed if I return with no news of or from you, except that
you received her letter and said nothing!"
    She appeared to wonder at this speech, and asked:
    "Does Ellen like you?"
    "Yes, very well," I replied hesitatingly.
    "You must tell her," she continued, "that I would answer her
letter, but I have no materials for writing: not even a book from
which I might tear a leaf."
    "No books!" I exclaimed. "How do you contrive to live here without
them? if I may take the liberty to enquire. Though provided with a
large library, I'm frequently very dull at the Grange; take my books
away, and I should be desperate!"
    "I was always reading, when I had them," said Catherine; "and
Mr. Heathcliff never reads; so he took it into his head to destroy
my books. I have not had a glimpse of one for weeks. Only once, I
searched through Joseph's store of theology, to his great
irritation; and once, Hareton, I came upon a secret stock in your
room- some Latin and Greek, and some tales and poetry: all old
friends. I brought the last here- and you gathered them, as a magpie
gathers silver spoons, for the mere love of stealing! They are of no
use to you; or else you concealed them in the bad spirit that as you
cannot enjoy them nobody else shall. Perhaps your envy counselled
Mr. Heathcliff to rob me of my treasures? But I've most of them
written on my brain and printed in my heart, and you cannot deprive me
of those!"
    Earnshaw blushed crimson when his cousin made this revelation of
his private literary accumulations, and stammered an indignant
denial of her accusations.
    "Mr. Hareton is desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge," I
said, coming to his rescue. "He is not envious but emulous of your
attainments. He'll be a clever scholar in a few years."
    "And he wants me to sink into a dunce, meantime," answered
Catherine. "Yes, I hear him trying to spell and read to himself, and
pretty blunders he makes! I wish you would repeat Chevy Chase as you
did yesterday: it was extremely funny, I heard you; and I heard you
turning over the dictionary to seek out the hard words, and then
cursing because you couldn't read their explanations!"
    The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be
laughed at for his ignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove
it, I had a similar notion; and, remembering Mrs. Dean's anecdote of
his first attempt at enlightening the darkness in which he had been
reared, I observed:
    "But, Mrs. Heathcliff, we have each had a commencement, and each
stumbled and tottered on the threshold; had our teachers scorned
instead of aiding us, we should stumble and totter yet."
    "Oh!" she replied, "I don't wish to limit his acquirements: still,
he has no right to appropriate what is mine, and make it ridiculous to
me with his vile mistakes and mispronunciations! Those books, both
prose and verse, are consecrated to me by other associations; and I
hate to have them debased and profaned in his mouth! Besides, of
all, he has selected my favourite pieces that I love the most to
repeat, as if out of deliberate malice."
    Hareton's chest heaved in silence a minute: he laboured under a
severe sense of mortification and wrath, which it was no easy task
to suppress. I rose, and, from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his
embarrassment, took up my station in the doorway, surveying the
external prospect as I stood. He followed my example, and left the
room; but presently reappeared, bearing half-a-dozen volumes in his
hands, which he threw into Catherine's lap, exclaiming: "Take them!
I never want to hear, or read, or think of them again!"
    "I won't have them now," she answered. "I shall connect them
with you, and hate them."
    She opened one that had obviously been often turned over, and read
a portion in the drawling tone of a beginner; then laughed, and
threw it from her. "And listen," she continued provokingly, commencing
a verse of an old ballad in the same fashion.
    But his self-love would endure no further torment: I heard, and
not altogether disapprovingly, a manual check given to her saucy
tongue. The little wretch had done her utmost to hurt her cousin's
sensitive though uncultivated feelings, and a physical argument was
the only mode he had of balancing the account, and repaying its
effects on the inflictor. He afterwards gathered the books and
hurled them on the fire. I read in his countenance what anguish it was
to offer that sacrifice to spleen. I fancied that as they consumed, he
recalled the pleasure they had already imparted, and the triumph and
ever-increasing pleasure he had anticipated from them; and I fancied I
guessed the incitement to his secret studies also. He had been content
with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, till Catherine
crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were
his first prompters to higher pursuits; and, instead of guarding him
from one and winning him to the other, his endeavours to raise himself
had produced just the contrary result.
    "Yes; that's all the good that such a brute as you can get from
them!" cried Catherine, sucking her damaged lip, and watching the
conflagration with indignant eyes,
    "You'd better hold your tongue, now," he answered fiercely.
    And his agitation precluded further speech; he advanced hastily to
the entrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed
the door-stones, Mr. Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered
him, and laying hold of his shoulder, asked:
    "What's to do now, my lad?"
    "Naught, naught," he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and
anger in solitude.
    Heathcliff gazed after him, and sighed.
    "It will be odd if I thwart myself," he muttered, unconscious that
I was behind him. "But when I look for his father in his face, I
find her every day more. How the devil is he so like? I can hardly
bear to see him."
    He bent his eyes to the ground, and walked moodily in. There was a
restless, anxious expression in his countenance I had never remarked
there before; and he looked sparer in person. His daughter-in-law,
on perceiving him through the window, immediately escaped to the
kitchen, so that I remained alone.
    "I'm glad to see you out of doors again, Mr. Lockwood," he said,
in reply to my greeting; "from selfish motives partly: I don't think I
could readily supply your loss in this desolation. I've wondered
more than once what brought you here."
    "An idle whim, I fear, sir," was my answer; "or else an idle
whim is going to spirit me away. I shall set out for London, next
week; and I must give you warning that I feel no disposition to retain
Thrushcross Grange beyond the twelve months I agreed to rent it. I
believe I shall not live there any more."
    "Oh, indeed; you're tired of being banished from the world, are
you?" he said. "But if you be coming to plead off paying for a place
you won't occupy, your journey is useless: I never relent in
exacting my due from any one."
    "I'm coming to plead off nothing about it," I exclaimed
considerably irritated. "Should you wish it, I'll settle with you
now," and I drew my note-book from my pocket.
    "No, no," he replied coolly; "you'll leave sufficient behind to
cover your debts, if you fail to return: I'm not in such a hurry.
Sit down and take your dinner with us; a guest that is safe from
repeating his visit can generally be made welcome. Catherine, bring
the things in: where are you?"
    Catherine reappeared, bearing a tray of knives and forks.
    "You may get your dinner with Joseph," muttered Heathcliff
aside, "and remain in the kitchen till he is gone."
    She obeyed his directions very punctually; perhaps she had no
temptation to transgress. Living among clowns and misanthropists,
she probably cannot appreciate a better class of people when she meets
them.
    With Mr. Heathcliff, grim and saturnine, on the one hand, and
Hareton, absolutely dumb, on the other, I made a somewhat cheerless
meal, and bade adieu early. I would have departed by the back way,
to get a last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old Joseph; but Hareton
received orders to lead up my horse, and my host himself escorted me
to the door, so I could not fulfil my wish.
    "How dreary life gets over in that house!" I reflected, while
riding down the road. "What a realisation of something more romantic
than a fairy tale it would have been for Mrs. Linton Heathcliff, had
she and I struck up an attachment, as her good nurse desired, and
migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of the town!"
                             CHAPTER 32

    1802- This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a
friend in the north, and on my journey to his abode, I unexpectedly
came within fifteen miles of Gimmerton. The 'ostler at a roadside
public house was holding a pail of water to refresh my horses, when
a cart of very green oats, newly reaped, passed by, and he remarked:
    "Yon's frough Gimmerton, nah! They're allas three wick after other
folk wi' ther harvest."
    "Gimmerton?" I repeated- my residence in that locality had already
grown dim and dreamy. "Ah! I know. How far is it from this?"
    "Happen fourteen mile o'er th' hills; and a rough road," he
answered.
    A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange. It was
scarcely noon, and I conceived that I might as well pass the night
under my own roof as in an inn. Besides, I could spare a day easily to
arrange matters with my landlord, and thus save myself the trouble
of invading the neighbourhood again. Having rested awhile, I
directed my servant to enquire the way to the village; and, with great
fatigue to our beasts, we managed the distance in some three hours.
    I left him there, and proceeded down the valley alone. The grey
church looked grayer, and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I
distinguished a moor sheep cropping the short turf on the graves. It
was sweet, warm weather- too warm for travelling; but the heat did not
hinder me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below: had
I seen it nearer August, I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste
a month among its solitudes. In winter nothing more dreary, in
summer nothing more divine, than those glens shut in by hills, and
those bluff, bold swells of heath.
    I reached the Grange before sunset, and knocked for admittance;
but the family had retreated into the back premises, I judged, by
one thin, blue wreath curling from the kitchen chimney, and they did
not hear. I rode into the court. Under the porch, a girl of nine or
ten sat knitting, and an old woman reclined on the housesteps, smoking
a meditative pipe.
    "Is Mrs. Dean within?" I demanded of the dame.
    "Mistress Dean? Nay!" she answered, "shoo doesn't bide here:
Shoo's up at th' Heights."
    "Are you the housekeeper, then?" I continued.
    "Eea, aw keep th' house," she replied.
    "Well, I'm Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to
lodge me in, I wonder? I wish to stay all night."
    "T'maister!" she cried in astonishment. "Whet, whoiver knew yah
wur coming? Yah sud ha' send word. They's nowt norther dry nor mensful
abaht t' place: nowt there isn't!"
    She threw down her pipe and bustled in, the girl followed, and I
entered too; soon perceiving that her report was true, and,
moreover, that I had almost upset her wits by my unwelcome apparition,
I bade her be composed. I would go out for a walk; and, meantime,
she must try to prepare a corner of a sitting-room for me to sup in,
and a bedroom to sleep in. No sweeping and dusting, only good fire and
dry sheets were necessary. She seemed willing to do her best; though
she thrust the hearth-brush into the grates in mistake for the
poker, and mal-appropriated several other articles of her craft: but I
retired, confiding in her energy for a resting-place against my
return. Wuthering Heights was the goal of my proposed excursion. An
after-thought brought me back, when I had quitted the court.
    "All well at the Heights?" I enquired of the woman.
    "Eea, f'r owt ee knew," she answered, skurrying away with a pan of
hot cinders.
    I would have asked why Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange, but it
was impossible to delay her at such a crisis, so I turned away and
made my exit, rambling leisurely along with the glow of a sinking
sun behind, and the mild glory of a rising moon in front- one
fading, and the other brightening- as I quitted the park, and
climbed the stony byroad branching off to Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling.
Before I arrived in sight of it, all that remained of day was a
beamless amber light along the west: but I could see every pebble on
the path, and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon. I had
neither to climb the gate nor to knock- it yielded to my hand. That is
an improvement, I thought. And I noticed another, by the aid of my
nostrils; a fragrance of stocks and wall-flowers wafted on the air
from amongst the homely fruit-trees.
    Both doors and lattices were open; and yet, as is usually the case
in a coal district, a fine, red fire illumined the chimney: the
comfort which the eyes derives from it renders the extra heat
endurable. But the house of Wuthering Heights is so large, that the
inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing out of its influence; and
accordingly, what inmates there were had stationed themselves not
far from one of the windows. I could both see them and hear them
talk before I entered, and looked and listened in consequence; being
moved thereto by a mingled sense of curiosity and envy, that grew as I
lingered.
    "Con-trary!" said a voice as sweet as a silver bell- "That for the
third time, you dunce! I'm not going to tell you again. Recollect or
I'll pull your hair!
    "Contrary, then," answered another, in deep but softened tones.
"And now, kiss me, for minding so well."
    "No, read it over first correctly, without a single mistake."
    The male speaker began to read: he was a young man, respectably
dressed and seated at a table, having a book before him. His
handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept
impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his
shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek, whenever
its owner detected such signs of inattention. Its owner stood
behind; her light, shining ringlets blending, at intervals, with his
brown locks, as she bent to superintend his studies; and her face-
it was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never have been so
steady. I could; and I bit my lip in spite, at having thrown away
the chance I might have had of doing something besides staring at
its smiling beauty.
    The task was done, not free from further blunders; but the pupil
claimed a reward, and received at least five kisses: which, however,
he generously returned. Then they came to the door, and from their
conversation I judged they were about to issue out and have a walk
on the moors. I supposed I should be condemned in Hareton Earnshaw's
heart, if not by his mouth, to the lowest pit in the infernal regions,
if I showed my unfortunate person in his neighborhood then; and
feeling very mean and malignant, I skulked round to seek refuge in the
kitchen. There was unobstructed admittance on that side also, and at
the door sat my old friend Nelly Dean, sewing and singing a song;
which was often interrupted from within by harsh words of scorn and
intolerance, uttered in far from musical accents.
    "I'd rayther, by the 'haulf, hev 'em swearing i' my lugs fro'h
morn to neeght, nor hearken ye, hahsiver!" said the tenant of the
kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly's. "It's a blazing
shame, that I cannot oppen t' blessed Book, but yah set up them
glories to Sattan, and all t' flaysome wickednesses that iver were
born into th' warld! Oh! ye'er a raight nowt; and shoo's another;
and that poor lad'll be lost atween ye. Poor lad!" he added, with a
groan; "he's witched: I'm sartin on't! O Lord, judge 'em, for
there's norther law nor justice among wer rullers!"
    "No! or we should be sitting in flaming fagots, I suppose,"
retorted the singer. "But wisht, old man, and read your Bible like a
Christian, and never mind me. This is 'Fairy Annie's Wedding'- a bonny
tune- it goes to a dance."
    Mrs. Dean was about to recommence, when I advanced; and
recognizing me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying:
    "Why, bless you, Mr. Lockwood! How could you think of returning in
this way? All's shut up at Thrushcross Grange. You should have given
us notice!"
    "I've arranged to be accommodated there, for as long as I shall
stay," I answered. "I depart again tomorrow. And how are you
transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? tell me that."
    "Zillah left, and Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you
went to London, and stay till you returned. But, step in, pray! Have
you walked from Gimmerton this evening?"
    "From the Grange," I replied; "and while they make me lodging room
there, I want to finish my business with your master; because I
don't think of having another opportunity in a hurry."
    "What business, sir?" said Nelly, conducting me into the house.
"He's gone out at present, and won't return soon."
    "About the rent," I answered.
    "Oh! then it is with Mrs. Heathcliff you must settle," she
observed; "or rather with me. She had not learnt to manage her affairs
yet, and I act for her: there's nobody else."
    I looked surprised.
    "Ah! you have not heard of Heathcliff's death, I see," she
continued.
    "Heathcliff dead!" I exclaimed. "How long ago?"
    "Three months since: but sit down and let me take your hat, and
I'll tell you all about it. Stop, you have had nothing to eat, have
you?"
    "I want nothing: I have ordered supper at home. You sit down
too. I never dreamt of his dying! Let me hear how it came to pass. You
say you don't expect them back for some time- the young people?"
    "No- I have to scold them every evening for their late rambles:
but they don't care for me. At least have a drink of our old ale; it
will do you good: you seem weary."
    She hastened to fetch it before I could refuse, and I heard Joseph
asking whether "it warn't a crying scandal that she should have
followers at her time of life? And then, to get them jocks out o' t'
maister's cellar! He fair shaamed to 'bide still and see it."
    She did not stay to retaliate, but reentered in a minute,
bearing a reaming silver pint, whose contents I lauded with becoming
earnestness. And afterwards she furnished me with the sequel of
Heathcliff's history. He had a "queer" end, as she expressed it.
    I was summoned to Wuthering Heights, within a fortnight of your
leaving us, she said; and I obeyed joyfully, for Catherine's sake.
My first interview with her grieved and shocked me: she had altered so
much since our separation. Mr. Heathcliff did not explain his
reasons for taking a new mind about my coming here; he only told me he
wanted me, and he was tired of seeing Catherine: I must make the
little parlour my sittingroom, and keep her with me. It was enough
if he were obliged to see her once or twice a day. She seemed
pleased at this arrangement; and, by degrees, I smuggled over a
great number of books, and other articles, that had formed her
amusement at the Grange; and flattered myself we should get on in
tolerable comfort. The delusion did not last long. Catherine,
contented at first, in a brief space grew irritable and restless.
For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the garden, and it
fretted her sadly to be confined to its narrow bounds as spring drew
on; for another, in following the house, I was forced to quit her
frequently, and she complained of loneliness: she preferred
quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen to sitting at peace in her
solitude. I did not mind their skirmishes: but Hareton was often
obliged to seek the kitchen also, when the master wanted to have the
house to himself; and though in the beginning she either left it at
his approach, or quietly joined in my occupations, and shunned
remarking or addressing him- and though he was always as sullen and
silent as possible- after a while she changed her behaviour, and
became incapable of letting him alone: talking at him; commenting on
his stupidity and idleness; expressing her wonder how he could
endure the life he lived- how he could sit a whole evening staring
into the fire and dozing.
    "He's just like a dog, is he not, Ellen?" she once observed, "or a
cart-horse? He does his work, eats his food, and sleeps eternally!
What a blank, dreary mind he must have! Do you ever dream, Hareton?
And, if you do, what is it about? But you can't speak to me!"
    Then she looked at him; but he would neither open his mouth nor
look again.
    "He's, perhaps, dreaming now," she continued. "He twitched his
shoulder as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen."
    "Mr. Hareton will ask the master to send you upstairs, if you
don't behave!" I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder but
clenched his fist, as if tempted to use it.
    "I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen," she
exclaimed, on another occasion. "He is afraid I shall laugh at him.
Ellen, what do you think? He began to teach himself to read once;
and because I laughed, he burned his books, and dropped it: was he not
a fool?"
    "Were not you naughty?" I said; "answer me that."
    "Perhaps I was," she went on; "but I did not expect him to be so
silly. Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll
try!"
    She placed one she had been perusing on his hand; he flung it off,
and muttered, if she did not give over, he would break her neck.
    "Well, I shall put it here," she said, "in the table drawer; and
I'm going to bed."
    Then she whispered me to watch whether he touched it, and
departed. But he would not come near it; and so I informed her in
the morning, to her great disappointment. I saw she was sorry for
his persevering sulkiness and indolence: her conscience reproved her
for frightening him off improving himself. she had done it
effectually. But her ingenuity was at work to remedy the injury: while
I ironed, or pursued other such stationary employments as I could
not well do in the parlour, she would bring some pleasant volume and
read it aloud to me. When Hareton was there, she generally paused in
an interesting part, and left the book lying about: that she did
repeatedly; but he was as obstinate as a mule, and, instead of
snatching at her bait, in wet weather he took to smoking with
Joseph; and they sat like automatons, one on each side of the fire,
the elder happily too deaf to understand her wicked nonsense, as he
would have called it, the younger doing his best to seem to
disregard it. On fine evenings the latter followed his shooting
expeditions, and Catherine yawned and sighed, and teased me to talk to
her, and ran off into the court or garden, the moment I began; and, as
a last resource, cried, and said she was tired of living: her life was
useless.
    Mr. Heathcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had
almost banished Earnshaw from his apartment. Owing to an accident at
the commencement of March, he became for some days a fixture in the
kitchen. His gun burst while out on the hills by himself; a splinter
cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach
home. The consequence was that, perforce, he was condemned to the
fireside and tranquillity, till he made it up again. It suited
Catherine to have him there: at any rate, it made her hate her room
upstairs more than ever: and she would compel me to find out
business below, that she might accompany me.
    On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimmerton fair with some
cattle; and, in the afternoon, I was busy getting up linen in the
kitchen. Earnshaw sat, morose as usual, at the chimney-corner, and
my little mistress was beguiling an idle hour with drawing pictures on
the window panes; varying her amusement by smothered bursts of songs
and whispered ejaculations, and quick glances of annoyance and
impatience in the direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and
looked into the grate. At a notice that I could do with her no
longer intercepting my light, she removed to the hearthstone. I
bestowed little attention on her proceedings, but, presently, I
heard her begin:
    "I've found out, Hareton, that I want- that I'm glad- that I
should like you to be my cousin now, if you had not grown so cross
to me, and so rough."
    Hareton returned no answer.
    "Hareton, Hareton, Hareton! do you hear?" she continued.
    "Get off wi' ye!" he growled, with uncompromising gruffness.
    "Let me take that pipe," she said, cautiously advancing her hand
and abstracting it from his mouth.
    Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken and behind
the fire. He swore at her and seized another.
    "Stop," she cried, "you must listen to me first; and I can't speak
while those clouds are floating in my face."
    "Will you go to the devil!" he exclaimed ferociously, "and let
me be!"
    "No," she persisted, "I won't: I can't tell what to do to make you
talk to me; and you are determined not to understand. When I call
you stupid, I don't mean anything: I don't mean that I despise you.
Come, you shall take notice of me, Hareton! you are my cousin, and you
shall own me."
    "I shall have naught to do wi' you and your mucky pride, and
your damned mocking tricks!" he answered. "I'll go to hell, body and
soul, before I look sideways after you again. Side out o' t' gate,
now; this minute!"
    Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her
lip, and endeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a
growing tendency to sob.
    "You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton," I
interrupted, "since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a
great deal of good: it would make you another man to have her for a
companion."
    "A companion!" he cried; "when she hates me, and does not think me
fit to wipe her shoon! Nay! if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned
for seeking her good-will any more."
    "It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!" wept Cathy,
no longer disguising her trouble. "You hate me as much as Mr.
Heathcliff does, and more."
    "You're a damned liar," began Earnshaw: "why have I made him
angry, by taking your part, then, a hundred times? and that when you
sneered at and despised me, and- Go on plaguing me, and I'll step in
yonder, and say you worried me out of the kitchen!"
    "I didn't know you took my part," she answered, drying her eyes;
"and I was miserable and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and
beg you to forgive me: what can I do besides?"
    She returned to the hearth, and frankly extended her hand. He
blackened and scowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fist
resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by
instinct, must have divined it was obdurate perversity, and not
dislike, that prompted this dogged conduct; for, after remaining an
instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle
kiss. The little rogue thought I had not seen her, and, drawing
back, she took her former station by the window, quite demurely. I
shook my head reprovingly, and then she blushed and whispered:
    "Well! what should I have done, Ellen? He wouldn't shake hands,
and he wouldn't look: I must show him some way that I like him- that I
want to be friends."
    Whether the kiss convinced Hareton, I cannot tell: he was very
careful, for some minutes, that his face should not be seen, and
when he did raise it, he was sadly puzzled where to turn his eyes.
    Catherine employed herself in wrapping a handsome book neatly in
white paper, and having tied it with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it
to "Mr. Hareton Earnshaw." she desired me to be her ambassadress,
and convey the present to its destined recipient.
    "And tell him, if he'll take it I'll come and teach him to read it
right," she said; "and, if he refuse it, I'll go upstairs, and never
tease him again.
    I carried it, and repeated the message; anxiously watched by my
employer. Hareton would not open his fingers, so I laid it on his
knee. He did not strike it off, either. I returned to my work.
Catherine leaned her head and arms on the table, till she heard the
slight rustle of the covering being removed; then she stole away,
and quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his
face glowed: all his rudeness and all his surly harshness had deserted
him: he could not summon courage, at first, to utter a syllable in
reply to her questioning look, and her murmured petition.
    "Say you forgive me, Hareton, do? You can make me so happy by
speaking that little word."
    He muttered something inaudible.
    "And you'll be my friend?" added Catherine interrogatively.
    "Nay, you'll be ashamed of me every day of your life," he
answered; "and the more ashamed, the more you know me; and I cannot
bide it."
    "So you won't be my friend?" she said, smiling as sweet as
honey, and creeping close up.
    I overheard no further distinguishable talk, but, on looking round
again, I perceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page of
the accepted book, that I did not doubt the treaty had been ratified
on both sides; and the enemies were, thenceforth, sworn allies.
    The work they studied was full of costly pictures; and those and
their position had charm enough to keep them unmoved till Joseph
came home. He, poor man, was perfectly aghast at the spectacle of
Catherine seated on the same bench with Hareton Earnshaw, leaning
her hand on his shoulder; and confounded at his favourite's
endurance of her proximity: it affected him too deeply to allow an
observation on the subject that night. His emotion was only revealed
by the immense sighs he drew, as he solemnly spread his large Bible on
the table and overlaid it with dirty bank-notes from his pocketbook,
the produce of the day's transactions. At length, he summoned
Hareton from his seat.
    "Tak' these in to t' maister, lad," he said, "and bide there.
I's gang up to my own rahm. This hoile's neither mensful nor seemly
for us: we mun side out and seearch another."
    "Come, Catherine," I said, "we must 'side out' too; I've done my
ironing, are you ready to go?"
    "It is not eight o'clock!" she answered, rising unwillingly.
"Hareton, I'll leave this book upon the chimney piece, and I'll
bring some more to-morrow."
    "Ony books that yah leave, I shall tak' into th' hahse," said
Joseph, "and it'll be mitch if yah find em agean; soa, yah may plase
yerseln!"
    Cathy threatened that his library should pay for hers; and,
smiling as she passed Hareton, went singing upstairs: lighter of
heart, I venture to say, than ever she had been under that roof
before; except, perhaps, during her earliest visits to Linton.
    The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly; though it encountered
temporary interruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilised with a wish,
and my young lady was no philosopher, and no paragon of patience;
but both their minds tending to the same point- one loving and
desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be
esteemed- they contrived in the end to reach it.
    You see, Mr. Lockwood, it was easy enough to win Mrs. Heathcliff's
heart. But now, I'm glad you did not try. The crown of all my wishes
will be the union of those two. I shall envy no one on their
wedding-day: there won't be a happier woman than myself in England!
                             CHAPTER 33

    ON THE MORROW of that Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to
follow his ordinary employments, and therefore remaining about the
house, I speedily found it would be impracticable to retain my
charge beside me, as heretofore. She got downstairs before me, and out
into the garden, where she had seen her cousin performing some easy
work; and when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I saw she had
persuaded him to clear a large space of ground from currant and
gooseberry bushes, and they were busy planning together an importation
of plants from the Grange.
    I was terrified at the devastation which had been accomplished
in a brief half-hour; the black currant trees were the apple of
Joseph's eye, and she had just fixed her choice of a flower-bed in the
midst of them.
    "There! That will be all shown to the master," I exclaimed, "the
minute it is discovered. And what excuse have you to offer for
taking such liberties with the garden? We shall have a fine
explosion on the head of it: see if we don't! Mr. Hareton, I wonder
you should have no more wit, than to go and make that mess at her
bidding!"
    "I'd forgotten they were Joseph's," answered Earnshaw, rather
puzzled; "but I'll tell him I did it."
    We always ate our meals with Mr. Heathcliff. I held the mistress's
post in making tea and carving; so I was indispensable at table.
Catherine usually sat by me, but to-day she stole nearer to Hareton;
and I presently saw she would have no more discretion in her
friendship than she had in her hostility.
    "Now, mind you don't talk with and notice your cousin too much,"
were my whispered instructions as we entered the room. "It will
certainly annoy Mr. Heathcliff, and he'll be mad at you both."
    "I'm not going to," she answered.
    The minute after, she had sidled to him, and was sticking
primroses in his plate of porridge.
    He dared not speak to her there: he dared hardly look; and yet she
went on tearing till he was twice on the point of being provoked to
laugh. I frowned, and then she glanced toward the master: whose mind
was occupied on other subjects than his company, as his countenance
evinced; and she grew serious for an instant, scrutinising him with
deep gravity. Afterwards she turned, and recommenced her nonsense;
at last, Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr. Heathcliff started;
his eye rapidly surveyed our faces. Catherine met it with her
accustomed look of nervousness and yet defiance, which he abhorred.
    "It is well you are out of my reach," he exclaimed. "What fiend
possesses you to stare back at me, continually, with those infernal
eyes? Down with them! and don't remind me of your existence again. I
thought I had cured you of laughing."
    "It was me," muttered Hareton.
    "What do you say?" demanded the master.
    Hareton looked at his plate, and did not repeat the confession.
Mr. Heathcliff looked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his
breakfast and his interrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and
the two young people prudently shifted wider asunder, so I anticipated
no further disturbance during that sitting: when Joseph appeared at
the door, revealing by his quivering lip and furious eyes, that the
outrage committed on his precious shrubs was detected. He must have
seen Cathy and her cousin about the spot before he examined it, for
while his jaws worked like those of a cow chewing its cud, and
rendered his speech difficult to understand, he began:
    "I mun hey my wage, and I mun goa! I hed aimed to dee, wheare
I'd sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I'd lug my books up into t'
garret, and all my bits o' stuff, and they sud hev t' kitchen to
theirseln; for t' sake o' quietness. It were hard to gie up my awn
hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that! But, nab, shoo's taan my
garden fro' me, and by th' heart, maister, I cannot stand it! Yah
may bend to th' yoak, and ye will- I noan used to 't, and an old man
doesn't sooin get used to new barthens. I'd rayther arn my bite and my
sup wi' a hammer in th' road!"
    "Now, now, idiot!" interrupted Heathcliff, "cut it short! What's
your grievance? I'll interfere in no quarrels between you and Nelly.
She may thrust you into the coalhole for anything I care."
    "It's noan Nelly!" answered Joseph. "I sudn't shift for Nelly-
nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannot stale t' sowl o'
nob'dy! Shoo were niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at
her 'bout winking. It's yon flaysome, graceless quean, that's
witched our lad, wi' her bold een and her forrard ways- till- Nay!
it fair bursts my heart! He's forgotten all I've done for him, and
made on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o' t' grandest
currant trees, i' t' garden!" And here he lamented outright;
unmanned by a sense of his bitter injuries, and Earnshaw's ingratitude
and dangerous condition.
    "Is the fool drunk?" asked Mr. Heathcliff, "Hareton, is it you
he's finding fault with?"
    "I've pulled up two or three bushes," replied the young man;
"but I'm going to set 'em again."
    "And why have you pulled them up?" said the master.
    Catherine wisely put in her tongue.
    "We wanted to plant some flowers there," she cried. "I'm the
only person to blame, for I wished him to do it."
    "And who the devil gave you leave to touch a stick about the
place?" demanded her father-in-law, much surprised. "And who ordered
you to obey her?" he added, turning to Hareton.
    The latter was speechless; his cousin replied:
    "You shouldn't grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornament,
when you have taken all my land!"
    "Your land, insolent slut! You never had any," said Heathcliff.
    "And my money," she continued; returning his angry glare, and
meantime biting a piece of crust, the remnant of her breakfast.
    "Silence!" he exclaimed. "Get done, and begone!"
    "And Hareton's land, and his money," pursued the reckless thing.
"Hareton and I are friends now; and I shall tell him all about you!"
    The master seemed confounded a moment: he grew pale, and rose
up, eyeing her all the while, with an expression of mortal hate.
    "If you strike me, Hareton will strike you," she said; "so you may
as well sit down."
    "If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I'll strike him
to hell," thundered Heathcliff. "Damnable witch! dare you pretend to
rouse him against me? Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the
kitchen! I'll kill her, Ellen Dean, if you let her come into my
sight again!"
    Hareton tried, under his breath, to persuade her to go.
    "Drag her away!" he cried savagely. "Are you staying to talk?" And
he approached to execute his own command.
    "He'll not obey you, wicked man, any more," said Catherine; "and
he'll soon detest you as much as I do."
    "Wisht! wisht!" muttered the young man reproachfully. "I will
not hear you speak so to him. Have done."
    "But you won't let him strike me?" she cried.
    "Come, then," he whispered earnestly.
    It was too late: Heathcliff had caught hold of her.
    "Now you go!" he said to Earnshaw. "Accursed witch! this time
she has provoked me when I could not bear it; and I'll make her repent
it for ever!"
    He had his hand in her hair; Hareton attempted to release her
locks, entreating him not to hurt her that once. Heathcliff's black
eyes flashed; he seemed ready to tear Catherine in pieces, and I was
just worked up to risk coming to the rescue, when of a sudden his
fingers relaxed; he shifted his grasp from her head to her arm, and
gazed intently in her face. Then he drew his hand over her eyes, stood
a moment to collect himself apparently, and turning anew to Catherine,
said, with assumed calmness: "You must learn to avoid putting me in
a passion, or I shall really murder you some time! Go with Mrs.
Dean, and keep with her; and confine your insolence to her ears. As to
Hareton Earnshaw, if I see him listen to you, I'll send him seeking
his bread where he can get it! Your love will make him an outcast
and a beggar. Nelly, take her; and leave me, all of you! Leave me!"
    I led my young lady out: she was too glad of her escape to resist;
the other followed, and Mr. Heathcliff had the room to himself till
dinner. I had counselled Catherine to dine upstairs; but, as soon as
he perceived her vacant seat, he sent me to call her. He spoke to none
of us, ate very little, and went out directly afterwards, intimating
that he would not return before evening.
    The two new friends established themselves in the house during his
absence; when I heard Hareton sternly check his cousin, on her
offering a revelation of her father-in-law's conduct to his father. He
said he wouldn't suffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement:
if he were the devil, it didn't signify: he would stand by him; and
he'd rather she would abuse himself, as she used to, than begin on Mr.
Heathcliff. Catherine was waxing cross at this; but he found means
to make her hold her tongue, by asking how she would like him to speak
ill of her father? Then she comprehended that Earnshaw took the
master's reputation home to himself; and was attached by ties stronger
than reason could break- chains, forged by habit, which it would be
cruel to attempt to loosen. She showed a good heart, thenceforth, in
avoiding both complaints and expressions of antipathy concerning
Heathcliff; and confessed to me her sorrow that she had endeavoured to
raise a bad spirit between him and Hareton: indeed, I don't believe
she has ever breathed a syllable, in the latter's hearing, against her
oppressor since.
    When this slight disagreement was over, they were friends again,
and as busy as possible in their several occupations of pupil and
teacher. I came in to sit with them, after I had done my work; and I
felt so soothed and comforted to watch them, that I did not notice how
time got on. You know, they both appeared in a measure my children:
I had long been proud of one; and now, I was sure, the other would
be a source of equal satisfaction. His honest, warm, and intelligent
nature shook off rapidly the clouds of ignorance and degradation in
which it had been bred; and Catherine's sincere commendations acted as
a spur to his industry. His brightening mind brightened his
features, add added spirit and nobility to their aspect: I could
hardly fancy it the same individual I had beheld on the day I
discovered my little lady at Wuthering Heights, after her expedition
to the Crags. While I admired and they laboured, dusk grew on, and
with it returned the master. He came upon us quite unexpectedly,
entering by the front way, and had a full view of the whole three, ere
we could raise our heads to glance at him. Well, I reflected, there
was never a pleasanter, or more harmless sight; and it will be a
burning shame to scold them. The red firelight glowed on their two
bonny heads, and revealed their faces animated with the eager interest
of children; for, though he was twenty-three and she eighteen, each
had so much of novelty to feel and learn, that neither experienced nor
evinced the sentiments of sober disenchanted maturity.
    They lifted their eyes together, to encounter Mr. Heathcliff
perhaps you have never remarked that their eyes are precisely similar,
and they are those of Catherine Earnshaw. The present Catherine has no
other likeness to her, except a breadth of forehead, and a certain
arch of the nostril that makes her appear rather haughty, whether
she will or not. With Hareton the resemblance is carried farther: it
is singular at all times, then it was particularly striking; because
his senses were alert, and his mental faculties wakened to unwonted
activity. I suppose this resemblance disarmed Mr. Heathcliff; he
walked to the hearth in evident agitation; but it quickly subsided
as he looked at the young man: or, I should say, altered its
character; for it was there yet. He took the book from his hand, and
glanced at the open page, then returned it without any observation;
merely signing Catherine away: her companion lingered very little
behind her, and I was about to depart also, but he bid me sit still.
    "It is a poor conclusion, is it not?" he observed, having
brooded a while on the scene he had just witnessed: "an absurd
termination to my violent exertions? I get levers and mattocks to
demolish the two houses, and train myself to be capable of working
like Hercules, and when everything is ready and in my power, I find
the will to lift a slate off either roof has vanished! My old
enemies have not beaten me; now would be the precise time to revenge
myself on their representatives: I could do it; and none could
hinder me. But where is the use? I don't care for striking; I can't
take the trouble to raise my hand! That sounds as if I had been
labouring the whole time only to exhibit a fine trait of
magnanimity. It is far from being the case: I have lost the faculty of
enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.
    "Nelly, there is a strange change approaching: I'm in its shadow
at present. I take so little interest in my daily life, that I
hardly remember to eat and drink. Those two who have left the room are
the only objects which retain a distinct material appearance to me;
and that appearance causes me pain, amounting to agony. About her I
won't speak; and I don't desire to think; but I earnestly wish she
were invisible: her presence invokes only maddening sensations. He
moves me differently: and yet if I could do it without seeming insane,
I'd never see him again. You'll perhaps think me rather inclined to
become so," he added, making an effort to smile, "if I try to describe
the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he awakens or
embodies. But you'll not talk of what I tell you; and my mind is so
eternally secluded in itself, it is tempting at last to turn it out to
another.
    "Five minutes ago, Hareton seemed a personification of my youth,
not a human being: I felt to him in such a variety of ways, that it
would have been impossible to have accosted him rationally. In the
first place, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him
fearfully with her. That, however, which you may suppose the most
potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least: for what is
not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot
look down to this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags!
In every cloud, in every tree- filling the air at night, and caught by
glimpses in every object by day- I am surrounded with her image! The
most ordinary faces of men and women- my own features- mock me with
a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of
memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her! Well,
Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love; of my wild
endeavours to hold my right; my degradation, my pride, my happiness,
and my anguish:
    "But it is frenzy to repeat these thoughts to you: only it will
let you know why, with a reluctance to be always alone, his society is
no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer;
and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his
cousin go on together. I can give them no attention, any more."
    "But what do you mean by a change, Mr. Heathcliff?" I said,
alarmed at his manner: though he was neither in danger of losing his
senses, nor dying, according to my judgment: he was quite strong and
healthy: and, as to his reason, from childhood he had a delight in
dwelling on dark things, and entertaining odd fancies. He might have
had a monomania on the subject of his departed idol; but on every
other point his wits were as sound as mine.
    "I shall not know that till it comes," he said, "I'm only half
conscious of it now."
    "You have no feelings of illness, have you?" I asked.
    "No, Nelly, I have not," he answered.
    "Then you are not afraid of death?" I pursued.
    "Afraid? No!" he replied. "I have neither a fear, nor a
presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard
constitution and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations,
I ought to, and probably shall, remain above ground till there is
scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet, I cannot continue in this
condition! I have to remind myself to breathe- almost to remind my
heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring: it is by
compulsion that I do the slightest act not prompted by one thought;
and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not
associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole
being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned
towards it so long, and so unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be
reached- and soon- because it has devoured my existence: I am
swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfillment. My confessions
have not relieved me; but they may account for some otherwise
unaccountable phases of humour which I show. O God! It is a long
fight, I wish it were over!"
    He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself,
till I was inclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience
had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it
would end. Though he seldom before had revealed this state of mind,
even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt: he asserted
it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have
conjectured the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr. Lockwood:
and at the period of which I speak he was just the same as then;
only fonder of continued solitude, and perhaps still more laconic in
company.
                             CHAPTER 34

    FOR SOME DAYS after that evening, Mr. Heathcliff shunned meeting
us at meals; yet he would not consent formally to exclude Hareton
and Cathy. He had an aversion to yielding so completely to his
feelings, choosing rather to absent himself; and eating once in
twenty-four hours seemed sufficient sustenance for him.
    One night, after the family were in bed, I heard him go
downstairs, and out at the front door. I did not hear him re-enter,
and in the morning I found he was still away. We were in April then:
the weather was sweet and warm, the grass as green as showers and
sun could make it, and the two dwarf apple trees near the southern
wall in full bloom. After breakfast, Catherine insisted on my bringing
a chair and sitting with my work under the fir trees at the end of the
house; and she beguiled Hareton, who had perfectly recovered from
his accident, to dig and arrange her little garden, which was
shifted to that corner by the influence of Joseph's complaints. I
was comfortably revelling in the spring fragrance around, and the
beautiful soft blue overhead, when my young lady, who had run down
near the gate to procure some primrose roots for a border, returned
only half laden, and informed us that Mr. Heathcliff was coming in.
"And he spoke to me," she added with a perplexed countenance.
    "What did he say?" asked Hareton.
    "He told me to begone as fast as I could," she answered. "But he
looked so different from his usual look that I stopped a moment to
stare at him."
    "How?" he enquired.
    "Why, almost bright and cheerful. No, almost nothing- very much
excited, and wild and glad!" she replied.
    "Night-walking amuses him, then," I remarked, affecting a careless
manner: in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious to ascertain
the truth of her statement; for to see the master looking glad would
not be an every-day spectacle. I framed an excuse to go in. Heathcliff
stood at the open door, he was pale, and he trembled: yet,
certainly, he had a strange, joyful glitter in his eyes, that
altered the aspect of his whole face.
    "Will you have some breakfast?" I said. "You must be hungry,
rambling about all night!" I wanted to discover where he had been, but
I did not like to ask directly.
    "No, I'm not hungry," he answered, averting his head and
speaking rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to
divine the occasion of his good-humour.
    I felt perplexed: I didn't know whether it were not a proper
opportunity to offer a bit of admonition.
    "I don't think it right to wander out of doors," I observed,
"instead of being in bed: it is not wise, at any rate, this moist
season. I dare say you'll catch a bad cold, or a fever: you have
something the matter with you now!"
    "Nothing but what I can bear," he replied; "and with the
greatest pleasure, provided you'll leave me alone; get in, and don't
annoy me."
    I obeyed: and, in passing, I noticed he breathed as fast as a cat.
    "Yes!" I reflected to myself, "we shall have a fit of illness. I
cannot conceive what he has been doing."
    That noon he sat down to dinner with us, and received a
heaped-up plate from my hands, as if he intended to make amends for
previous fasting.
    "I've neither cold nor fever, Nelly," he remarked, in allusion
to my morning's speech; "and I'm ready to do justice to the food you
give me."
    He took his knife and fork, and was going to commence eating, when
the inclination appeared to become suddenly extinct. He laid them on
the table, looked eagerly towards the window, then rose and went
out. We saw him walking to and fro in the garden while we concluded
our meal, and Earnshaw said he'd go and ask why he would not dine:
he thought we had grieved him some way.
    "Well, is he coming?" cried Catherine, when her cousin returned.
    "Nay," he answered; "but he's not angry: he seemed rarely
pleased indeed; only I made him impatient by speaking to him twice;
and then he bid me be off to you: he wondered how I could want the
company of anybody else."
    I set his plate to keep warm on the fender; and after an hour or
two he re-entered, when the room was clear, in no degree calmer: the
same unnatural- it was unnatural- appearance of joy under his black
brows; the same bloodless hue, and his teeth visible, now and then, in
a kind of smile; his frame shivering, not as one shivers with chill or
weakness, but as a tight-stretched cord vibrates- a strong
thrilling, rather than trembling.
    I will ask what is the matter, I thought; or who should? And I
exclaimed:
    "Have you heard any good news, Mr. Heathcliff? You look uncommonly
animated."
    "Where should good news come from to me?" he said. "I'm animated
with hunger; and, seemingly, I must not eat."
    "Your dinner is here," I returned; "why won't you get it?"
    "I don't want it now," he muttered hastily: "I'll wait till
supper. And, Nelly, once for all, let me beg you to warn Hareton and
the other away from me. I wish to be troubled by nobody: I wish to
have this place to myself."
    "Is there same new reason for this banishment?" I enquired.
"Tell me why you are so queer, Mr. Heathcliff? Where were you last
night? I'm not putting the question through idle curiosity, but-"
    "You are putting the question through very idle curiosity," he
interrupted, with a laugh. "Yet, I'll answer it. Last night I was on
the threshold of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I
have my eyes on it: hardly three feet to sever me! And now you'd
better go! You'll neither see nor hear anything to frighten you, if
you refrain from prying."
    Having swept the hearth and wiped the table, I departed; more
perplexed than ever.
    He did not quit the house again that afternoon, and no one
intruded on his solitude; till, at eight o'clock, I deemed it
proper, though unsummoned, to carry a candle and his supper to him. He
was leaning against the ledge of an open lattice, but not looking out:
his face was turned to the interior gloom. The fire had smouldered
to ashes; the room was filled with the damp, mild air of the cloudy
evening; and so still, that not only the murmur of the beck down
Gimmerton was distinguishable, but its ripples and its gurgling over
the pebbles, or through the large stones which it could not cover. I
uttered an ejaculation of discontent at seeing the dismal grate, and
commenced shutting the casements, one after another, till I came to
his.
    "Must I close this?" I asked, in order to rouse him; for he
would not stir.
    The light flashed on his features as I spoke. Oh, Mr. Lockwood,
I cannot express what a terrible start I got by the momentary view!
Those deep black eyes! That smile, and ghastly paleness! It appeared
to me, not Mr. Heathcliff, but a goblin; and, in my terror, I let
the candle bend towards the wall, and it left me in darkness.
    "Yes, close it," he replied, in his familiar voice. "There, that
is pure awkwardness! Why did you hold the candle horizontally? Be
quick, and bring another."
    I hurried out in a foolish state of dread, and said to Joseph:
    "The master wishes you to take him a light and rekindle the fire."
For I dared not go in myself again just then.
    Joseph rattled some fire into the shovel, and went; but he brought
it back immediately, with the supper-tray in his other hand,
explaining that Mr. Heathcliff was going to bed, and he wanted nothing
to eat till morning. We heard him mount the stairs directly; he did
not proceed to his ordinary chamber, but turned into that with the
panelled bed: its window, as I mentioned before, is wide enough for
anybody to get through; and it struck me that he plotted another
midnight excursion, of which he had rather we had no suspicion.
    "Is he a ghoul or a vampire?" I mused. I had read of such
hideous incarnate demons. And then I set myself to reflect how I had
tended him in infancy, and watched him grow to youth, and followed him
almost through his whole course; and what absurd nonsense it was to
yield to that sense of horror. "But where did he come from, the little
dark thing, harboured by a good man to his bane?" muttered
Superstition, as I dozed into unconsciousness. And I began, half
dreaming, to weary myself with imagining some fit parentage for him;
and, repeating my awaking meditations, I tracked his existence over
again, with grim variations; at last, picturing his death and funeral:
of which, all I can remember is, being exceedingly vexed at having the
task of dictating an inscription for his monument, and consulting
the sexton about it; and, as he had no surname, and we could not
tell his age, we were obliged to content ourselves with the single
word, "Heathcliff." That came true: we were. If you enter the
kirkyard, you'll read on his headstone, only that, and the date of his
death.
    Dawn restored me to common sense. I rose, and went into the
garden, as soon as I could see, to ascertain if there were any
footmarks under his window. There were none. "He has stayed at
home," I thought, "and he'll be all right to-day." I prepared
breakfast for the household, as was my usual custom, but told
Hareton and Catherine to get theirs ere the master came down, for he
lay late. They preferred taking it out of doors, under the trees,
and I set a little table to accommodate them.
    On my re-entrance, I found Mr. Heathcliff below. He and Joseph
were conversing about some farming business; he gave clear, minute
directions concerning the matter discussed, but he spoke rapidly,
and turned his head continually aside, and had the same excited
expression, even more exaggerated. When joseph quitted the room he
took his seat in the place he generally chose, and I put a basin of
coffee before him. He drew it nearer, and then rested his arms on
the table, and looked at the opposite wall, as I supposed, surveying
one particular portion, up and down, with glittering, restless eyes,
and with such eager interest that he stopped breathing during half a
minute together.
    "Come now," I exclaimed, pushing some bread against his hand, "eat
and drink that, while it is hot: it has been waiting near an hour."
    He didn't notice me, and yet he smiled. I'd rather have seen him
gnash his teeth than smile so.
    "Mr. Heathcliff! master!" I cried, "don't, for God's sake, stare
as if you saw an unearthly vision."
    "Don't, for God's sake, shout so loud," he replied. "Turn round,
and tell me, are we by ourselves?"
    "Of course," was my answer; "of course we are."
    Still I involuntarily obeyed him, as if I was not quite sure. With
a sweep of his hand he cleared a vacant space in front among the
breakfast things, and leant forward to gaze more at his ease.
    Now, I perceived he was not looking at the wall; for when I
regarded him alone, it seemed exactly that he gazed at something
within two yards' distance. And whatever it was, it communicated,
apparently, both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes: at least the
anguished, yet raptured, expression of his countenance suggested
that idea. The fancied object was not fixed, either; his eyes
pursued it with unwearied diligence, and, even in speaking to me, were
never weaned away. I vainly reminded him of his protracted
abstinence from food: if he stirred to touch anything in compliance
with my entreaties, if he stretched his hand out to get a piece of
bread, his fingers clenched before they reached it, and remained on
the table, forgetful of their aim.
    I sat, a model of patience, trying to attract his absorbed
attention from its engrossing speculation; till he grew irritable, and
got up, asking why I would not allow him to have his own time in
taking his meals? and saying that on the next occasion, I needn't
wait: I might set the things down and go. Having uttered these words
he left the house, slowly sauntered down the garden path, and
disappeared through the gate.
    The hours crept anxiously by: another evening came. I did not
retire to rest till late, and when I did, I could not sleep. He
returned after midnight, and, instead of going to bed, shut himself
into the room beneath. I listened, and tossed about, and, finally,
dressed and descended. It was too irksome to lie there, harassing my
brain with a hundred idle misgivings.
    I distinguished Mr. Heathcliff's step, restlessly measuring the
floor, and he frequently broke the silence by a deep inspiration,
resembling a groan. He muttered detached words also; the only one I
could catch was the name of Catherine, coupled with some wild term
of endearment or suffering; and spoken as one would speak to a
person present: low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul.
I had not courage to walk straight into the apartment; but I desired
to divert him from his reverie, and therefore fell foul of the kitchen
fire, stirred it, and began to scrape the cinders, It drew him forth
sooner than I expected. He opened the door immediately, and said:
    "Nelly, come here- is it morning? Come in with your light."
    "It is striking four," I answered. "You want a candle to take
upstairs: you might have lit one at this fire."
    "No, I don't wish to go upstairs," he said. "Come in, and kindle
me a fire, and do anything there is to do about the room."
    "I must blow the coals red first, before I can carry any," I
replied, getting a chair and the bellows.
    He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching
distraction; his heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to
leave no space for common breathing between.
    "When day breaks I'll send for Green," he said; "I wish to make
some legal enquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on those
matters, and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet;
and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could
annihilate it from the face of the earth."
    "I would not talk so, Mr. Heathcliff," I interposed. "Let your
will be a while: you'll be spared to repent of your many injustices
yet. I never expected that your nerves would be disordered: they
are, at present, marvellously so, however; and almost entirely through
your own fault. The way you've passed these three last days might
knock up a Titan. Do take some food, and some repose. You need only
look at yourself in a glass to see how you require both. Your cheeks
are hollow, and your eyes bloodshot, like a person starving with
hunger and going blind with loss of sleep."
    "It is not my fault that I cannot eat or rest," he replied. "I
assure you it is through no settled designs. I'll do both as soon as I
possibly can. But you might as well bid a man struggling in the
water rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first,
and then I'll rest. Well, never mind Mr. Green: as to repenting of
my injustices, I've done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I'm
too happy; and yet I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my
body, but does not satisfy itself."
    "Happy, master?" I cried. "Strange happiness! If you would hear me
without being angry, I might offer some advice that would make you
happier."
    "What is that?" he asked. "Give it."
    "You are aware, Mr. Heathcliff," I said, "that from the time you
were thirteen years old, you have lived a selfish, unchristian life;
and probably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that
period. You must have forgotten the contents of the Book, and you
may not have space to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send for
some one- some minister of any denomination, it does not matter which-
to explain it, and show you how very far you have erred from its
precepts; and how unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change
takes place before you die?"
    "I'm rather obliged than angry, Nelly," he said, "for you remind
me of the manner in which I desire to be buried. It is to be carried
to the churchyard in the evening. You and Hareton may, if you
please, accompany me: and mind, particularly, to notice that the
sexton obeys my directions concerning the two coffins! No minister
need come; nor need anything be said over me.- I tell you I have
nearly attained my heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued
and uncoveted by me."
    "And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast, and died
by that means, and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the
Kirk?" I said, shocked at his godless indifference. "How would you
like it?"
    "They won't do that," he replied: "if they did, you must have me
removed secretly: and if you neglect it you shall prove,
practically, that the dead are not annihilated!"
    As soon as he heard the other members of the family stirring he
retired to his den, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon,
while Joseph and Hareton were at their work, he came into the
kitchen again, and, with a wild look, bid me come and sit in the
house: he wanted somebody with him. I declined: telling him plainly
that his strange talk and manner frightened me, and I had neither
the nerve nor the will to be his companion alone.
    "I believe you think me a fiend," he said, with his dismal
laugh: "something too horrible to live under a decent roof." Then
turning to Catherine, who was there, and who drew behind me at his
approach, he added, half-sneeringly- "Will you come, chuck? I'll not
hurt you. No! to you I've made myself worse than the devil. Well,
there is one who won't shrink from my company! By God! she's
relentless. Oh, damn it! It's unutterably too much for flesh and blood
to bear- even mine."
    He solicited the society of no one more. At dusk, he went into his
chamber. Through the whole night, and far into the morning, we heard
him groaning and murmuring to himself. Hareton was anxious to enter;
but I bade him fetch Dr. Kenneth, and he should go in and see him.
When he came, and I requested admittance and tried to open the door, I
found it locked; and Heathcliff bid us be damned. He was better, and
would be left alone; so the doctor went away.
    The following evening was very wet: indeed it poured down till
day-dawn; and, as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed
the master's window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in.
He cannot be in bed, I thought: those showers would drench him
through. He must either be up or out. But I'll make no more ado,
I'll go boldly and look.
    Having succeeded in obtaining entrance with another key, I ran
to unclose the panels, for the chamber was vacant; quickly pushing
them aside, I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was there- laid on his back.
His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and then he seemed to
smile. I could not think him dead: but his face and throat were washed
with rain; the bed-clothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The
lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the
sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my
fingers to it, I could doubt no more: he was dead and stark!
    I hasped the window; I combed his black long hair from his
forehead; I tried to close his eyes: to extinguish, if possible,
that frightful, life-like gaze of exultation before any one else
beheld it. They would not shut: they seemed to sneer at my attempts:
and his parted lips and sharp white teeth sneered too! Taken with
another fit of cowardice, I cried out for Joseph. Joseph shuffled up
and made a noise; but resolutely refused to meddle with him. "Th'
divil's harried off his soul," he cried, "and he may hey his carcass
into t' bargain, for aught I care! Ech! what a wicked un he looks
girning at death!" and the old sinner grinned in mockery. I thought he
intended to cut a caper round the bed; but, suddenly composing
himself, he fell on his knees, and raised his hands, and returned
thanks that the lawful master and the ancient stock were restored to
their rights.
    I felt stunned by the awful event; and my memory unavoidably
recurred to former times with a sort of oppressive sadness. But poor
Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one who really suffered
much. He sat by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter earnest. He
pressed its hand, and kissed the sarcastic savage face that every
one else shrank from contemplating; and bemoaned him with that
strong grief which springs naturally from a generous heart, though
it be tough as tempered steel.
    Dr. Kenneth was perplexed to pronounce of what disorder the master
died. I concealed the fact of his having swallowed nothing for four
days, fearing it might lead to trouble, and then, I am persuaded, he
did not abstain on purpose: it was the consequence of his strange
illness, not the cause.
    We buried him, to the scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he
wished. Earnshaw and I, the sexton, and six men to carry the coffin,
comprehended the whole attendance. The six men departed when they
had let it down into the grave: we stayed to see it covered.
Hareton, with a streaming face, dug green sods, and laid them over the
brown mound himself; at present it is as smooth and verdant as its
companion mounds- and I hope its tenant sleeps as soundly. But the
country folk, if you ask them, would swear on the Bible that he walks:
there are those who speak of having met him near the church, and on
the moor, and even in this house. Idle tales, you'll say, and so say
I. Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms he has seen two on
'em, looking out of his chamber window, on every rainy night since his
death: and an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was
going to the Grange one evening- a dark evening, threatening
thunder- and, just at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a
little boy with a sheep and two lambs before him; he was crying
terribly; and I supposed the lambs were skittish, and would not be
guided.
    "What's the matter, my little man?" I asked.
    "There's Heathcliff and a woman, yonder, under t' nab," he
blubbered, "un' I darnut pass 'em."
    I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on; so I
bid him take the road lower down. He probably raised the phantoms from
thinking, as he traversed the moors alone, on the nonsense he had
heard his parents and companions repeat. Yet, still, I don't like
being out in the dark now; and I don't like being left by myself in
this grim house: I cannot help it; I shall be glad when they leave it,
and shift to the Grange.
    "They are going to the Grange, then," I said.
    "Yes," answered Mrs. Dean, "as soon as they are married, and
that will be on New Year's day."
    "And who will live here, then?"
    "Why, Joseph will take care of the house, and, perhaps, a lad to
keep him company. They will live in the kitchen, and the rest will
be shut up."
    "For the use of such ghosts as choose to inhabit it," I observed.
    "No, Mr. Lockwood," said Nelly, shaking her head. "I believe the
dead are at peace: but it is not right to speak of them with levity."
    At that moment the garden gate swung to; the ramblers were
returning.
    "They are afraid of nothing," I grumbled, watching their
approach through the window. "Together they would brave Satan and
all his legions."
    As they stepped on to the door-stones, and halted to take a last
look at the moon- or, more correctly, at each other by her light- I
felt irresistibly impelled to escape them again; and, pressing a
remembrance into the hand of Mrs. Dean, and disregarding her
expostulations at my rudeness, I vanished through the kitchen as
they opened the house door; and so should have confirmed Joseph in his
opinion of his fellow-servant's gay indiscretions, had he not
fortunately recognised me for a respectable character by the sweet
ring of a sovereign at his feet.
    My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the
kirk. When beneath its walls, I perceived decay had made progress,
even in seven months: many a window showed black gaps deprived of
glass; and slates jutted off, here and there, beyond the right line of
the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms.
    I sought, and soon discovered, the three head-stones on the
slope next the moor: the middle one grey, and half buried in heath:
Edgar Linton's only harmonised by the turf and moss creeping up its
foot:
Heathcliff's still bare.
    I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths
fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind
breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever
imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.


                             THE END
