The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë (2024)

CHAPTER I

1801—I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitaryneighbour 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 socompletely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’sHeaven—and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide thedesolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmedtowards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under theirbrows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealousresolution, 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 assoon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have notinconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation ofThrushcross 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 hinderit—walk in!”

The “walk in” was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed thesentiment, “Go to the Deuce!” even the gate over which he leantmanifested no sympathising movement to the words; and I think that circ*mstancedetermined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemedmore exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

When he saw my horse’s breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put outhis hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway, calling,as we entered the court,—“Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood’s horse;and bring up some wine.”

“Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,” wasthe reflection suggested by this compound order. “No wonder the grassgrows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.”

Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man, very old, perhaps, though hale andsinewy. “The Lord help us!” he soliloquised in an undertone ofpeevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in myface so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid todigest his dinner, and his pious ejacul*tion had no reference to my unexpectedadvent.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling.“Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptiveof 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 mayguess the power of the north wind, blowing over the edge, by the excessiveslant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gauntthorns 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 aredeeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.

Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesquecarving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; abovewhich, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, Idetected the date “1500,” and the name “HaretonEarnshaw.” I would have made a few comments, and requested a shorthistory of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the doorappeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had nodesire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.

One step brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductorylobby or passage: they call it here “the house” pre-eminently. Itincludes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights thekitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least Idistinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deepwithin; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the hugefireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls.One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immensepewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row afterrow, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never beenunder-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where aframe of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, andham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and acouple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily paintedcanisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; thechairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavyblack 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; andother dogs haunted other recesses.

The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as belongingto a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance, and stalwart limbsset out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated inhis arm-chair, his mug of ale frothing on the round table before him, is to beseen in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if you go at theright time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to hisabode and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress andmanners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire:rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because hehas an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose. Possibly, some peoplemight suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride; I have a sympathetic chordwithin that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know, by instinct, hisreserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling—tomanifestations of mutual kindliness. He’ll love and hate equally undercover, 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 onhim. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his handout of the way when he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those which actuateme. Let me hope my constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to sayI should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myselfperfectly unworthy of one.

While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was thrown into thecompany of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my eyes, as long asshe took no notice of me. I “never told my love” vocally; still, iflooks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head andears: she understood me at last, and looked a return—the sweetest of allimaginable looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame—shrunk icilyinto myself, like a snail; at every glance retired colder and farther; tillfinally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmedwith confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp.

By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberateheartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which mylandlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caressthe canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to theback of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch.My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl.

“You’d better let the dog alone,” growled Mr. Heathcliff inunison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot.“She’s not accustomed to be spoiled—not kept for apet.” Then, striding to a side door, he shouted again,“Joseph!”

Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave no intimationof ascending; so his master dived down to him, leaving me vis-à-vis theruffianly bitch and a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her ajealous guardianship over all my movements. Not anxious to come in contact withtheir fangs, I sat still; but, imagining they would scarcely understand tacitinsults, I unfortunately indulged in winking and making faces at the trio, andsome turn of my physiognomy so irritated madam, that she suddenly broke into afury and leapt on my knees. I flung her back, and hastened to interpose thetable between us. This proceeding aroused the whole hive: half-a-dozenfour-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens to thecommon centre. I felt my heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; andparrying off the larger combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, Iwas constrained to demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household inre-establishing peace.

Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious phlegm: Idon’t think they moved one second faster than usual, though the hearthwas an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping. Happily, an inhabitant of thekitchen made more dispatch; a lusty dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, andfire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: andused that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsidedmagically, and she only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, whenher master entered on the scene.

“What the devil is the matter?” he asked, eyeing me in a mannerthat I could ill endure after this inhospitable treatment.

“What the devil, indeed!” I muttered. “The herd of possessedswine 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,” heremarked, 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 mydogs, 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 foolishto sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs; besides, I felt loth toyield the fellow further amusem*nt at my expense; since his humour took thatturn. He—probably swayed by prudential consideration of the folly ofoffending a good tenant—relaxed a little in the laconic style of chippingoff his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced what he supposed would bea subject of interest to me,—a discourse on the advantages anddisadvantages of my present place of retirement. I found him very intelligenton the topics we touched; and before I went home, I was encouraged so far as tovolunteer another visit to-morrow. He evidently wished no repetition of myintrusion. I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feelmyself compared with him.

CHAPTER II

Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by mystudy fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights. Oncoming up from dinner, however, (N.B.—I dine between twelve and oneo’clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along withthe house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that I might beserved at five)—on mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, andstepping into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees surrounded by brushesand coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the flameswith heaps of cinders. This spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat,and, after a four-miles’ walk, arrived at Heathcliff’s garden-gatejust 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 mademe shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over,and, running up the flagged causeway bordered with stragglinggooseberry-bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles tingled andthe dogs howled.

“Wretched inmates!” I ejacul*ted, mentally, “you deserveperpetual isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. Atleast, I would not keep my doors barred in the day-time. I don’tcare—I will get in!” So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook itvehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round window of thebarn.

“What are ye for?” he shouted. “T’ maister’s downi’ t’ fowld. Go round by th’ end o’ t’ laith, ifye 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 whom I am, eh, Joseph?”

“Nor-ne me! I’ll hae no hend wi’t,” muttered the head,vanishing.

The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial;when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in theyard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through awash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, weat length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerlyreceived. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compoundedof coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal,I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whoseexistence I had never previously suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking shewould bid me take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, andremained motionless and mute.

“Rough weather!” I remarked. “I’m afraid, Mrs.Heathcliff, the door must bear the consequence of your servants’ leisureattendance: I had hard work to make them hear me.”

She never opened her mouth. I stared—she stared also: at any rate, shekept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing anddisagreeable.

“Sit down,” said the young man, gruffly. “He’ll be insoon.”

I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this secondinterview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning myacquaintance.

“A beautiful animal!” I commenced again. “Do you intendparting with the little ones, madam?”

“They are not mine,” said the amiable hostess, more repellinglythan Heathcliff himself could have replied.

“Ah, your favourites are among these?” I continued, turning to anobscure 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 closerto the hearth, repeating my comment on the wildness of the evening.

“You should not have come out,” she said, rising and reaching fromthe chimney-piece two of the painted canisters.

Her position before was sheltered from the light; now, I had a distinct view ofher whole figure and countenance. She was slender, and apparently scarcely pastgirlhood: an admirable form, and the most exquisite little face that I haveever had the pleasure of beholding; small features, very fair; flaxen ringlets,or rather golden, hanging loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they beenagreeable in expression, that would have been irresistible: fortunately for mysusceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered between scorn and akind of desperation, singularly unnatural to be detected there. The canisterswere almost out of her reach; I made a motion to aid her; she turned upon me asa miser might turn if any one attempted to assist him in counting his gold.

“I don’t want your help,” she snapped; “I can get themfor myself.”

“I beg your pardon!” I hastened to reply.

“Were you asked to tea?” she demanded, tying an apron over her neatblack 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 askme.”

She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a pet; herforehead corrugated, and her red under-lip pushed out, like a child’sready to cry.

Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby uppergarment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me from thecorner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some mortal feudunavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a servant or not: hisdress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observablein Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated,his whiskers encroached bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were embrownedlike 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 ofthe house. In the absence of clear proofs of his condition, I deemed it best toabstain from noticing his curious conduct; and, five minutes afterwards, theentrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure, from my uncomfortablestate.

“You see, sir, I am come, according to promise!” I exclaimed,assuming the cheerful; “and I fear I shall be weather-bound for half anhour, 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 snow-storm to ramble about in.Do you know that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People familiarwith these moors often miss their road on such evenings; and I can tell youthere is no chance of a change at present.”

“Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might stay at theGrange till morning—could you spare me one?”

“No, I could not.”

“Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own sagacity.”

“Umph!”

“Are you going to mak’ the tea?” demanded he of the shabbycoat, 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 thatI 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 thepreparations were finished, he invited me with—“Now, sir, bringforward your chair.” And we all, including the rustic youth, drew roundthe 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 todispel it. They could not every day sit so grim and taciturn; and it wasimpossible, however ill-tempered they might be, that the universal scowl theywore was their every-day countenance.

“It is strange,” I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup oftea and receiving another—“it is strange how custom can mould ourtastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a lifeof such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet,I’ll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with youramiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart—”

“My amiable lady!” he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneeron 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 thepost of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, evenwhen her body is gone. Is that it?”

Perceiving myself in a blunder, I attempted to correct it. I might have seenthere was too great a disparity between the ages of the parties to make itlikely that they were man and wife. One was about forty: a period of mentalvigour at which men seldom cherish the delusion of being married for love bygirls: that dream is reserved for the solace of our declining years. The otherdid not look seventeen.

Then it flashed upon me—“The clown at my elbow, who is drinking histea out of a basin and eating his bread with unwashed hands, may be herhusband: Heathcliff junior, of course. Here is the consequence of being buriedalive: she has thrown herself away upon that boor from sheer ignorance thatbetter individuals existed! A sad pity—I must beware how I cause her toregret 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 herdirection: a look of hatred; unless he has a most perverse set of facialmuscles that will not, like those of other people, interpret the language ofhis soul.

“Ah, certainly—I see now: you are the favoured possessor of thebeneficent fairy,” I remarked, turning to my neighbour.

This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist, withevery appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himselfpresently, 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; “weneither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. Isaid she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married myson.”

“And this young man is—”

“Not my son, assuredly.”

Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute thepaternity of that bear to him.

“My name is Hareton Earnshaw,” growled the other; “andI’d counsel you to respect it!”

“I’ve shown no disrespect,” was my reply, laughing internallyat the dignity with which he announced himself.

He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear Imight be tempted either to box his ears or render my hilarity audible. I beganto feel unmistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle. The dismalspiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralised, the glowing physicalcomforts round me; and I resolved to be cautious how I ventured under thoserafters a third time.

The business of eating being concluded, and no one uttering a word of sociableconversation, I approached a window to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight Isaw: dark night coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in onebitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.

“I don’t think it possible for me to get home now without aguide,” I could not help exclaiming. “The roads will be buriedalready; and, if they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot inadvance.”

“Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch. They’ll becovered if left in the fold all night: and put a plank before them,” saidHeathcliff.

“How must I do?” I continued, with rising irritation.

There was no reply to my question; and on looking round I saw only Josephbringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs, and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning overthe fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches which had fallenfrom the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its place. Theformer, 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 tostand thear i’ idleness un war, when all on ’ems goan out! Budyah’re a nowt, and it’s no use talking—yah’ll nivermend o’yer ill ways, but goa raight to t’ divil, like yer motherafore 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 ofkicking him out of the door. Mrs. Heathcliff, however, checked me by heranswer.

“You scandalous old hypocrite!” she replied. “Are you notafraid of being carried away bodily, whenever you mention the devil’sname? I warn you to refrain from provoking me, or I’ll ask your abductionas a special favour! Stop! look here, Joseph,” she continued, taking along, dark book from a shelf; “I’ll show you how far I’veprogressed in the Black Art: I shall soon be competent to make a clear house ofit. The red cow didn’t die by chance; and your rheumatism can hardly bereckoned among providential visitations!”

“Oh, wicked, wicked!” gasped the elder; “may the Lord deliverus from evil!”

“No, reprobate! you are a castaway—be off, or I’ll hurt youseriously! I’ll have you all modelled in wax and clay! and the first whopasses the limits I fix shall—I’ll not say what he shall be doneto—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 ejacul*ting“wicked” as he went. I thought her conduct must be prompted by aspecies of dreary fun; and, now that we were alone, I endeavoured to interesther in my distress.

“Mrs. Heathcliff,” I said earnestly, “you must excuse me fortroubling you. I presume, because, with that face, I’m sure you cannothelp being good-hearted. Do point out some landmarks by which I may know my wayhome: I have no more idea how to get there than you would have how to get toLondon!”

“Take the road you came,” she answered, ensconcing herself in achair, with a candle, and the long book open before her. “It is briefadvice, but as sound as I can give.”

“Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead in a bog or a pit full ofsnow, 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 ofthe garden wall.”

“You! I should be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold, for myconvenience, on such a night,” I cried. “I want you to tellme my way, not to show it: or else to persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give mea guide.”

“Who? There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph and I. Which would youhave?”

“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 thesehills,” cried Heathcliff’s stern voice from the kitchen entrance.“As to staying here, I don’t keep accommodations for visitors: youmust 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 suitme to permit any one the range of the place while I am off guard!” saidthe 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 wasso dark that I could not see the means of exit; and, as I wandered round, Iheard another specimen of their civil behaviour amongst each other. At firstthe 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, orwhatever relation he bore. “And who is to look after the horses,eh?”

“A man’s life is of more consequence than one evening’sneglect of the horses: somebody must go,” murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, morekindly than I expected.

“Not at your command!” retorted Hareton. “If you set store onhim, you’d better be quiet.”

“Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr. Heathcliff willnever get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin,” she answered,sharply.

“Hearken, hearken, shoo’s cursing on ’em!” mutteredJoseph, towards whom I had been steering.

He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which Iseized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I would send it back on themorrow, rushed to the nearest postern.

“Maister, maister, he’s staling t’ lanthern!” shoutedthe 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 medown, and extinguishing the light; while a mingled guffaw from Heathcliff andHareton put the copestone on my rage and humiliation. Fortunately, the beastsseemed more bent on stretching their paws, and yawning, and flourishing theirtails, than devouring me alive; but they would suffer no resurrection, and Iwas forced to lie till their malignant masters pleased to deliver me: then,hatless and trembling with wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let meout—on their peril to keep me one minute longer—with severalincoherent 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, andstill Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded. I don’t know what wouldhave concluded the scene, had there not been one person at hand rather morerational than myself, and more benevolent than my entertainer. This was Zillah,the stout housewife; who at length issued forth to inquire into the nature ofthe 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 againstthe younger scoundrel.

“Well, Mr. Earnshaw,” she cried, “I wonder what you’llhave agait next? Are we going to murder folk on our very door-stones? I seethis house will never do for me—look at t’ poor lad, he’sfair choking! Wisht, wisht; you mun’n’t go on so. Come in, andI’ll cure that: there now, hold ye still.”

With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of icy water down my neck, andpulled me into the kitchen. Mr. Heathcliff followed, his accidental merrimentexpiring quickly in his habitual moroseness.

I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint; and thus compelled perforce toaccept 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 sorrypredicament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby I was somewhat revived,ushered me to bed.

CHAPTER III

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 shewould put me in, and never let anybody lodge there willingly. I asked thereason. 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 my door and glanced round forthe bed. The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press, and a largeoak case, with squares cut out near the top resembling coach windows. Havingapproached this structure, I looked inside, and perceived it to be a singularsort of old-fashioned couch, very conveniently designed to obviate thenecessity for every member of the family having a room to himself. In fact, itformed a little closet, and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served asa table.

I slid back the panelled sides, got in with my light, pulled them togetheragain, 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 onecorner; 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 andsmall—Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to CatherineHeathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton.

In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continuedspelling over Catherine Earnshaw—Heathcliff—Linton, till my eyesclosed; but they had not rested five minutes when a glare of white lettersstarted from the dark, as vivid as spectres—the air swarmed withCatherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive name, I discovered mycandle-wick reclining on one of the antique volumes, and perfuming the placewith an odour of roasted calf-skin.

I snuffed it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence of cold andlingering nausea, sat up and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was aTestament, in lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty: a fly-leaf bore theinscription—“Catherine Earnshaw, her book,” and a date somequarter 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 itto have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose:scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary—at least theappearance of one—covering every morsel of blank that the printer hadleft. Some were detached sentences; other parts took the form of a regulardiary, 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 tobehold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,—rudely, yetpowerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknownCatherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

“An awful Sunday,” commenced the paragraph beneath. “I wishmy father were back again. Hindley is a detestable substitute—his conductto Heathcliff is atrocious—H. and I are going to rebel—we took ourinitiatory step this evening.

“All day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, soJoseph must needs get up a congregation in the garret; and, while Hindley andhis wife basked downstairs before a comfortable fire—doing anything butreading their Bibles, I’ll answer for it—Heathcliff, myself, andthe unhappy ploughboy were commanded to take our prayer-books, and mount: wewere ranged in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering, and hopingthat Joseph would shiver too, so that he might give us a short homily for hisown sake. A vain idea! The service lasted precisely three hours; and yet mybrother had the face to exclaim, when he saw us descending, ‘What, donealready?’ On Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to play, if we didnot 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 onperfect sobriety and silence. Oh, boy! was that you? Frances darling, pull hishair as you go by: I heard him snap his fingers.’ Frances pulled his hairheartily, and then went and seated herself on her husband’s knee, andthere they were, like two babies, kissing and talking nonsense by thehour—foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of. We made ourselves assnug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just fastened ourpinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph, on anerrand from the stables. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks:

“‘T’ maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath noto’ered, und t’ sound o’ t’ gospel still i’ yerlugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame on ye! sit ye down, ill childer!there’s good books eneugh if ye’ll read ’em: sit ye down, andthink o’ yer sowls!’

“Saying this, he compelled us so to square our positions that we mightreceive from the far-off fire a dull ray to show us the text of the lumber hethrust upon us. I could not bear the employment. I took my dingy volume by thescroop, 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 fitinto t’ first part o’ “T’ Brooad Way toDestruction!” It’s fair flaysome that ye let ’em go on thisgait. Ech! th’ owd man wad ha’ laced ’em properly—buthe’s goan!’

“Hindley hurried up from his paradise on the hearth, and seizing one ofus 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 wewere living: and, so comforted, we each sought a separate nook to await hisadvent. I reached this book, and a pot of ink from a shelf, and pushed thehouse-door ajar to give me light, and I have got the time on with writing fortwenty minutes; but my companion is impatient, and proposes that we shouldappropriate the dairywoman’s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors,under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion—and then, if the surly old mancome in, he may believe his prophecy verified—we cannot be damper, orcolder, in the rain than we are here.”

* * * * * *

I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next sentence took upanother 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 stillI can’t give over. Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, andwon’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he andI must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if webreak his orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treatingH. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his rightplace—”

* * * * * *

I began to nod drowsily over the dim page: my eye wandered from manuscript toprint. I saw a red ornamented title—“Seventy Times Seven, and theFirst of the Seventy-First. A Pious Discourse delivered by the Reverend JabezBranderham, in the Chapel of Gimmerden Sough.” And while I was,half-consciously, worrying my brain to guess what Jabez Branderham would makeof his subject, I sank back in bed, and fell asleep. Alas, for the effects ofbad tea and bad temper! What else could it be that made me pass such a terriblenight? I don’t remember another that I can at all compare with it since Iwas capable of suffering.

I began to dream, almost before I ceased to be sensible of my locality. Ithought it was morning; and I had set out on my way home, with Joseph for aguide. The snow lay yards deep in our road; and, as we floundered on, mycompanion wearied me with constant reproaches that I had not brought apilgrim’s staff: telling me that I could never get into the house withoutone, and boastfully flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood to beso denominated. For a moment I considered it absurd that I should need such aweapon to gain admittance into my own residence. Then a new idea flashed acrossme. I was not going there: we were journeying to hear the famous JabezBranderham preach, from the text—“Seventy Times Seven;” andeither Joseph, the preacher, or I had committed the “First of theSeventy-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; itlies in a hollow, between two hills: an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whosepeaty moisture is said to answer all the purposes of embalming on the fewcorpses deposited there. The roof has been kept whole hitherto; but as theclergyman’s stipend is only twenty pounds per annum, and a house with tworooms, threatening speedily to determine into one, no clergyman will undertakethe duties of pastor: especially as it is currently reported that his flockwould rather let him starve than increase the living by one penny from theirown pockets. However, in my dream, Jabez had a full and attentive congregation;and he preached—good God! what a sermon; divided into four hundred andninety parts, each fully equal to an ordinary address from the pulpit, andeach discussing a separate sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot tell. Hehad his private manner of interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary thebrother should sin different sins on every occasion. They were of the mostcurious character: odd transgressions that I never imagined previously.

Oh, how weary I grew. How I writhed, and yawned, and nodded, and revived! How Ipinched and pricked myself, and rubbed my eyes, and stood up, and sat downagain, and nudged Joseph to inform me if he would ever have done. I wascondemned to hear all out: finally, he reached the “First of theSeventy-First.” At that crisis, a sudden inspiration descended on me;I was moved to rise and denounce Jabez Branderham as the sinner of the sin thatno Christian need pardon.

“Sir,” I exclaimed, “sitting here within these four walls, atone stretch, I have endured and forgiven the four hundred and ninety heads ofyour discourse. Seventy times seven times have I plucked up my hat and beenabout to depart—Seventy times seven times have you preposterously forcedme 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 theplace which knows him may know him no more!”

“Thou art the Man!” cried Jabez, after a solemn pause,leaning over his cushion. “Seventy times seven times didst thou gapinglycontort thy visage—seventy times seven did I take counsel with mysoul—Lo, this is human weakness: this also may be absolved! The First ofthe 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’sstaves, rushed round me in a body; and I, having no weapon to raise inself-defence, commenced grappling with Joseph, my nearest and most ferociousassailant, for his. In the confluence of the multitude, several clubs crossed;blows, aimed at me, fell on other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resoundedwith rappings and counter rappings: every man’s hand was against hisneighbour; and Branderham, unwilling to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in ashower of loud taps on the boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartlythat, at last, to my unspeakable relief, they woke me. And what was it that hadsuggested the tremendous tumult? What had played Jabez’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 distinctlythe gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard, also, the fir boughrepeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right cause: but it annoyed meso much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose andendeavoured to unhasp the casem*nt. The hook was soldered into the staple: acirc*mstance observed by me when awake, but forgotten. “I must stop it,nevertheless!” I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, andstretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, myfingers 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, butthe 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 ofLinton? I had read Earnshaw twenty times forLinton)—“I’m come home: I’d lost my way on themoor!”

As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child’sface looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it uselessto attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane,and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes:still it wailed, “Let me in!” and maintained its tenacious gripe,almost maddening me with fear.

“How can I!” I said at length. “Let me go, if you wantme to let you in!”

The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled thebooks up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentableprayer.

I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant Ilistened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on!

“Begone!” I shouted. “I’ll never let you in, not if youbeg 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 ifthrust forward.

I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzyof fright.

To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footstepsapproached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, anda 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 tohesitate, and muttered to himself.

At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer,

“Is any one here?”

I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew Heathcliff’saccents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet.

With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forgetthe effect my action produced.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candledripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. Thefirst creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leapedfrom 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 himthe humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. “I had the misfortuneto scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I’m sorry Idisturbed 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 itimpossible to hold it steady. “And who showed you up into thisroom?” he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding histeeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions. “Who was it? I’ve a goodmind to turn them out of the house this moment!”

“It was your servant Zillah,” I replied, flinging myself on to thefloor, and rapidly resuming my garments. “I should not care if you did,Mr. Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to getanother proof that the place was haunted, at my expense. Well, itis—swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason in shutting it up, Iassure you. No one will thank you for a doze in such a den!”

“What do you mean?” asked Heathcliff, “and what are youdoing? Lie down and finish out the night, since you are here; but, forHeaven’s sake! don’t repeat that horrid noise: nothing could excuseit, unless you were having your throat cut!”

“If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would havestrangled me!” I returned. “I’m not going to endure thepersecutions of your hospitable ancestors again. Was not the Reverend JabezBranderham akin to you on the mother’s side? And that minx, CatherineLinton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called—she must have been achangeling—wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earththese twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I’veno doubt!”

Scarcely were these words uttered when I recollected the association ofHeathcliff’s with Catherine’s name in the book, which hadcompletely slipped from my memory, till thus awakened. I blushed at myinconsideration: but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, Ihastened to add—“The truth is, sir, I passed the first part of thenight in—” Here I stopped afresh—I was about to say“perusing those old volumes,” then it would have revealed myknowledge of their written, as well as their printed, contents; so, correctingmyself, I went on—“in spelling over the name scratched on thatwindow-ledge. A monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, likecounting, or—”

“What can you mean by talking in this way to me!”thundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. “How—how dareyou, under my roof?—God! he’s mad to speak so!” And he struckhis forehead with rage.

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but heseemed 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 personifieditself when I had no longer my imagination under control. Heathcliff graduallyfell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke; finally sitting down almostconcealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and interceptedbreathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of violent emotion. Notliking to show him that I had heard the conflict, I continued my toiletterather noisily, looked at my watch, and soliloquised on the length of thenight: “Not three o’clock yet! I could have taken oath it had beensix. 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’sshadow, dashing a tear from his eyes. “Mr. Lockwood,” he added,“you may go into my room: you’ll only be in the way, comingdownstairs so early: and your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil forme.”

“And for me, too,” I replied. “I’ll walk in the yardtill daylight, and then I’ll be off; and you need not dread a repetitionof my intrusion. I’m now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, beit country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company inhimself.”

“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 withyou! I’ll come in two minutes!”

I obeyed, so far as to quit the chamber; when, ignorant where the narrowlobbies led, I stood still, and was witness, involuntarily, to a piece ofsuperstition on the part of my landlord which belied, oddly, his apparentsense. He got on to the bed, and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as hepulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears. “Come in! comein!” 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 ofbeing; but the snow and wind whirled wildly through, even reaching my station,and blowing out the light.

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, thatmy compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to havelistened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since itproduced that agony; though why was beyond my comprehension. I descendedcautiously to the lower regions, and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleamof fire, raked compactly together, enabled me to rekindle my candle. Nothingwas stirring except a brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, andsaluted me with a querulous mew.

Two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth; on oneof these I stretched myself, and Grimalkin mounted the other. We were both ofus nodding ere any one invaded our retreat, and then it was Joseph, shufflingdown a wooden ladder that vanished in the roof, through a trap: the ascent tohis garret, I suppose. He cast a sinister look at the little flame which I hadenticed to play between the ribs, swept the cat from its elevation, andbestowing himself in the vacancy, commenced the operation of stuffing athree-inch pipe with tobacco. My presence in his sanctum was evidently esteemeda piece of impudence too shameful for remark: he silently applied the tube tohis lips, folded his arms, and puffed away. I let him enjoy the luxuryunannoyed; 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; forHareton Earnshaw was performing his orison sotto voce, in a series ofcurses directed against every object he touched, while he rummaged a corner fora spade or shovel to dig through the drifts. He glanced over the back of thebench, dilating his nostrils, and thought as little of exchanging civilitieswith me as with my companion the cat. I guessed, by his preparations, thategress 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 urgingflakes 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 herhand interposed between the furnace-heat and her eyes, and seemed absorbed inher occupation; desisting from it only to chide the servant for covering herwith sparks, or to push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its noseoverforwardly into her face. I was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. Hestood by the fire, his back towards me, just finishing a stormy scene with poorZillah; who ever and anon interrupted her labour to pluck up the corner of herapron, and heave an indignant groan.

“And you, you worthless—” he broke out as I entered, turningto 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 idletricks again! The rest of them do earn their bread—you live on mycharity! Put your trash away, and find something to do. You shall pay me forthe plague of having you eternally in my sight—do you hear, damnablejade?”

“I’ll put my trash away, because you can make me if Irefuse,” answered the young lady, closing her book, and throwing it on achair. “But I’ll not do anything, though you should swear yourtongue 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 acat-and-dog combat, I stepped forward briskly, as if eager to partake thewarmth of the hearth, and innocent of any knowledge of the interrupted dispute.Each had enough decorum to suspend further hostilities: Heathcliff placed hisfists, out of temptation, in his pockets; Mrs. Heathcliff curled her lip, andwalked to a seat far off, where she kept her word by playing the part of astatue during the remainder of my stay. That was not long. I declined joiningtheir breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, took an opportunity ofescaping into the free air, now clear, and still, and cold as impalpable ice.

My landlord halloed for me to stop ere I reached the bottom of the garden, andoffered to accompany me across the moor. It was well he did, for the wholehill-back was one billowy, white ocean; the swells and falls not indicatingcorresponding rises and depressions in the ground: many pits, at least, werefilled 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 mymind. I had remarked on one side of the road, at intervals of six or sevenyards, a line of upright stones, continued through the whole length of thebarren: these were erected and daubed with lime on purpose to serve as guidesin the dark, and also when a fall, like the present, confounded the deep swampson either hand with the firmer path: but, excepting a dirty dot pointing uphere and there, all traces of their existence had vanished: and my companionfound it necessary to warn me frequently to steer to the right or left, when Iimagined I was following, correctly, the windings of the road.

We exchanged little conversation, and he halted at the entrance of ThrushcrossPark, saying, I could make no error there. Our adieux were limited to a hastybow, and then I pushed forward, trusting to my own resources; for theporter’s lodge is untenanted as yet. The distance from the gate to theGrange is two miles; I believe I managed to make it four, what with losingmyself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in snow: a predicament whichonly those who have experienced it can appreciate. At any rate, whatever weremy wanderings, the clock chimed twelve as I entered the house; and that gaveexactly 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 Iperished last night; and they were wondering how they must set about the searchfor 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 dryclothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or forty minutes, to restore the animalheat, I adjourned to my study, feeble as a kitten: almost too much so to enjoythe cheerful fire and smoking coffee which the servant had prepared for myrefreshment.

CHAPTER IV

What vain weather-co*cks we are! I, who had determined to hold myselfindependent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, Ihad lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable—I, weak wretch,after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits and solitude, wasfinally compelled to strike my colours; and under pretence of gaininginformation concerning the necessities of my establishment, I desired Mrs.Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it; hoping sincerelyshe would prove a regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation or lull meto sleep by her talk.

“You have lived here a considerable time,” I commenced; “didyou 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 ownaffairs, and those could hardly interest me. However, having studied for aninterval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation over her ruddycountenance, she ejacul*ted—“Ah, times are greatly changed sincethen!”

“Yes,” I remarked, “you’ve seen a good manyalterations, I suppose?”

“I have: and troubles too,” she said.

“Oh, I’ll turn the talk on my landlord’s family!” Ithought 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 notrecognise for kin.” With this intention I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathclifflet Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation and residence somuch inferior. “Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in goodorder?” I inquired.

“Rich, sir!” she returned. “He has nobody knows what money,and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he’s rich enough to live in afiner house than this: but he’s very near—close-handed; and, if hehad meant to flit to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenanthe could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. Itis 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 washer maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing! I did wish Mr. Heathcliff wouldremove here, and then we might have been together again.”

“What! Catherine Linton?” I exclaimed, astonished. But aminute’s reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine.“Then,” I continued, “my predecessor’s name wasLinton?”

“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, theother on the father’s side: Heathcliff married Mr. Linton’ssister.”

“I see the house at Wuthering Heights has ‘Earnshaw’ carvedover the front door. Are they an old family?”

“Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is ofus—I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights? I begpardon for asking; but I should like to hear how she is!”

“Mrs. Heathcliff? she looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think,not very happy.”

“Oh dear, I don’t wonder! And how did you like the master?”

“A rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?”

“Rough as a saw-edge, and hard as whinstone! The less you meddle with himthe better.”

“He must have had some ups and downs in life to make him such a churl. Doyou know anything of his history?”

“It’s a cuckoo’s, sir—I know all about it: except wherehe was born, and who were his parents, and how he got his money at first. AndHareton has been cast out like an unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate lad is theonly 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 myneighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to sitand chat an hour.”

“Oh, certainly, sir! I’ll just fetch a little sewing, and thenI’ll sit as long as you please. But you’ve caught cold: I saw youshivering, 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 offoolishness, through my nerves and brain. This caused me to feel, notuncomfortable, but rather fearful (as I am still) of serious effects from theincidents of to-day and yesterday. She returned presently, bringing a smokingbasin and a basket of work; and, having placed the former on the hob, drew inher seat, evidently pleased to find me so companionable.

* * * * *

Before I came to live here, she commenced—waiting no farther invitationto her story—I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my motherhad nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton’s father, and I gotused 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. Onefine summer morning—it was the beginning of harvest, I remember—Mr.Earnshaw, the old master, came downstairs, dressed for a journey; and, after hehad told Joseph what was to be done during the day, he turned to Hindley, andCathy, 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 Liverpoolto-day, what shall I bring you? You may choose what you like: only let it belittle, for I shall walk there and back: sixty miles each way, that is a longspell!” Hindley named a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she washardly six years old, but she could ride any horse in the stable, and she chosea whip. He did not forget me; for he had a kind heart, though he was rathersevere sometimes. He promised to bring me a pocketful of apples and pears, andthen he kissed his children, said good-bye, and set off.

It seemed a long while to us all—the three days of his absence—andoften did little Cathy ask when he would be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him bysupper-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 tiredof running down to the gate to look. Then it grew dark; she would have had themto bed, but they begged sadly to be allowed to stay up; and, just about eleveno’clock, the door-latch was raised quietly, and in stepped the master. Hethrew 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 thethree kingdoms.

“And at the end of it to be flighted to death!” he said, openinghis great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms. “See here, wife! Iwas never so beaten with anything in my life: but you must e’en take itas a gift of God; though it’s as dark almost as if it came from thedevil.”

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 facelooked older than Catherine’s; yet when it was set on its feet, it onlystared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody couldunderstand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out ofdoors: she did fly up, asking how he could fashion to bring that gipsy bratinto the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for? What hemeant to do with it, and whether he were mad? The master tried to explain thematter; but he was really half dead with fatigue, and all that I could makeout, 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 andinquired for its owner. Not a soul knew to whom it belonged, he said; and hismoney and time being both limited, he thought it better to take it home withhim at once, than run into vain expenses there: because he was determined hewould not leave it as he found it. Well, the conclusion was, that my mistressgrumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it cleanthings, and let it sleep with the children.

Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening till peacewas restored: then, both began searching their father’s pockets for thepresents he had promised them. The former was a boy of fourteen, but when hedrew out what had been a fiddle, crushed to morsels in the great-coat, heblubbered aloud; and Cathy, when she learned the master had lost her whip inattending on the stranger, showed her humour by grinning and spitting at thestupid little thing; earning for her pains a sound blow from her father, toteach 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 ofthe stairs, hoping it might be gone on the morrow. By chance, or else attractedby hearing his voice, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw’s door, and there he foundit on quitting his chamber. Inquiries were made as to how it got there; I wasobliged to confess, and in recompense for my cowardice and inhumanity was sentout of the house.

This was Heathcliff’s first introduction to the family. On coming back afew days afterwards (for I did not consider my banishment perpetual), I foundthey had christened him “Heathcliff”: it was the name of a son whodied in childhood, and it has served him ever since, both for Christian andsurname. Miss Cathy and he were now very thick; but Hindley hated him: and tosay 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 mistressnever put in a word on his behalf when she saw him wronged.

He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment: hewould stand Hindley’s blows without winking or shedding a tear, and mypinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes, as if he had hurthimself by accident, and nobody was to blame. This endurance made old Earnshawfurious, when he discovered his son persecuting the poor fatherless child, ashe called him. He took to Heathcliff strangely, believing all he said (for thatmatter, he said precious little, and generally the truth), and petting him upfar 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 youngmaster had learned to regard his father as an oppressor rather than a friend,and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent’s affections and hisprivileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries. I sympathiseda 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 idea. Heathcliff wasdangerously sick; and while he lay at the worst he would have me constantly byhis pillow: I suppose he felt I did a good deal for him, and he hadn’twit to guess that I was compelled to do it. However, I will say this, he wasthe quietest child that ever nurse watched over. The difference between him andthe others forced me to be less partial. Cathy and her brother harassed meterribly: he was as uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, notgentleness, 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 softenedtowards the being by whose means I earned them, and thus Hindley lost his lastally: still I couldn’t dote on Heathcliff, and I wondered often what mymaster 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 hisbenefactor, he was simply insensible; though knowing perfectly the hold he hadon his heart, and conscious he had only to speak and all the house would beobliged to bend to his wishes. As an instance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw oncebought 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 discoveredit, he said to Hindley—

“You must exchange horses with me: I don’t like mine; and if youwon’t I shall tell your father of the three thrashings you’ve givenme 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’dbetter do it at once,” he persisted, escaping to the porch (they were inthe stable): “you will have to: and if I speak of these blows,you’ll get them again with interest.” “Off, dog!” criedHindley, threatening him with an iron weight used for weighing potatoes andhay. “Throw it,” he replied, standing still, “and thenI’ll tell how you boasted that you would turn me out of doors as soon ashe died, and see whether he will not turn you out directly.” Hindleythrew it, hitting him on the breast, and down he fell, but staggered upimmediately, breathless and white; and, had not I prevented it, he would havegone just so to the master, and got full revenge by letting his condition pleadfor him, intimating who had caused it. “Take my colt, Gipsy, then!”said young Earnshaw. “And I pray that he may break your neck: take him,and be damned, you beggarly interloper! and wheedle my father out of all hehas: 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 waspassing behind it, when Hindley finished his speech by knocking him under itsfeet, and without stopping to examine whether his hopes were fulfilled, ranaway as fast as he could. I was surprised to witness how coolly the childgathered himself up, and went on with his intention; exchanging saddles andall, and then sitting down on a bundle of hay to overcome the qualm which theviolent blow occasioned, before he entered the house. I persuaded him easily tolet me lay the blame of his bruises on the horse: he minded little what talewas told since he had what he wanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of suchstirs as these, that I really thought him not vindictive: I was deceivedcompletely, as you will hear.

CHAPTER V

In the course of time Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active andhealthy, yet his strength left him suddenly; and when he was confined to thechimney-corner he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed him; and suspectedslights of his authority nearly threw him into fits. This was especially to beremarked 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 tohave 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 thekinder 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 blacktempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice, or thrice,Hindley’s manifestation of scorn, while his father was near, roused theold man to a fury: he seized his stick to strike him, and shook with rage thathe could not do it.

At last, our curate (we had a curate then who made the living answer byteaching 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, andwould never thrive as where he wandered.”

I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt me to think the mastershould be made uncomfortable by his own good deed. I fancied the discontent ofa*ge and disease arose from his family disagreements; as he would have it thatit did: really, you know, sir, it was in his sinking frame. We might have goton 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 thepromises to himself and fling the curses to his neighbours. By his knack ofsermonising and pious discoursing, he contrived to make a great impression onMr. Earnshaw; and the more feeble the master became, the more influence hegained. He was relentless in worrying him about his soul’s concerns, andabout ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged him to regard Hindley as areprobate; and, night after night, he regularly grumbled out a long string oftales against Heathcliff and Catherine: always minding to flatterEarnshaw’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; andshe put all of us past our patience fifty times and oftener in a day: from thehour she came downstairs till the hour she went to bed, we had not aminute’s security that she wouldn’t be in mischief. Her spiritswere always at high-water mark, her tongue always going—singing,laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do the same. A wild, wicked slipshe was—but she had the bonniest eye, the sweetest smile, and lightestfoot in the parish: and, after all, I believe she meant no harm; for when onceshe made you cry in good earnest, it seldom happened that she would not keepyou company, and oblige you to be quiet that you might comfort her. She wasmuch too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for herwas to keep her separate from him: yet she got chided more than any of us onhis account. In play, she liked exceedingly to act the little mistress; usingher hands freely, and commanding her companions: she did so to me, but I wouldnot bear slapping and ordering; and so I let her know.

Now, Mr. Earnshaw did not understand jokes from his children: he had alwaysbeen strict and grave with them; and Catherine, on her part, had no idea whyher father should be crosser and less patient in his ailing condition than hewas in his prime. His peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight toprovoke 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; turningJoseph’s religious curses into ridicule, baiting me, and doing just whather father hated most—showing how her pretended insolence, which hethought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness: how the boywould do her bidding in anything, and his only when it suited hisown inclination. After behaving as badly as possible all day, she sometimescame fondling to make it up at night. “Nay, Cathy,” the old manwould 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 Imust rue that we ever reared thee!” That made her cry, at first; and thenbeing repulsed continually hardened her, and she laughed if I told her to sayshe 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 fire-side. Ahigh wind blustered round the house, and roared in the chimney: it sounded wildand stormy, yet it was not cold, and we were all together—I, a littleremoved from the hearth, busy at my knitting, and Joseph reading his Bible nearthe table (for the servants generally sat in the house then, after their workwas done). Miss Cathy had been sick, and that made her still; she leant againsther father’s knee, and Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head inher lap. I remember the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonnyhair—it pleased him rarely to see her gentle—and saying, “Whycanst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?” And she turned her face upto 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, andsaid she would sing him to sleep. She began singing very low, till his fingersdropped 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 fullhalf-hour, and should have done so longer, only Joseph, having finished hischapter, got up and said that he must rouse the master for prayers and bed. Hestepped forward, and called him by name, and touched his shoulder; but he wouldnot move: so he took the candle and looked at him. I thought there wassomething wrong as he set down the light; and seizing the children each by anarm, whispered them to “frame upstairs, and make little din—theymight pray alone that evening—he had summut to do.”

“I shall bid father good-night first,” said Catherine, putting herarms round his neck, before we could hinder her. The poor thing discovered herloss directly—she screamed out—“Oh, he’s dead,Heathcliff! he’s dead!” And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what we could bethinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven. He told me to put on mycloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor and the parson. I could not guess theuse that either would be of, then. However, I went, through wind and rain, andbrought one, the doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in themorning. Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children’s room:their door was ajar, I saw they had never lain down, though it was pastmidnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them. The littlesouls 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, intheir innocent talk; and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishingwe were all there safe together.

CHAPTER VI

Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and—a thing that amazed us, and setthe neighbours gossiping right and left—he brought a wife with him. Whatshe was, and where she was born, he never informed us: probably, she hadneither money nor name to recommend her, or he would scarcely have kept theunion 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 delighther; and every circ*mstance that took place about her: except the preparing forthe 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 mecome with her, though I should have been dressing the children: and there shesat shivering and clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly—“Arethey gone yet?” Then she began describing with hysterical emotion theeffect it produced on her to see black; and started, and trembled, and, atlast, fell a-weeping—and when I asked what was the matter, answered, shedidn’t know; but she felt so afraid of dying! I imagined her as littlelikely to die as myself. She was rather thin, but young, andfresh-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 theleast sudden noise set her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomelysometimes: but I knew nothing of what these symptoms portended, and had noimpulse to sympathise with her. We don’t in general take to foreignershere, Mr. Lockwood, unless they take to us first.

Young Earnshaw was altered considerably in the three years of his absence. Hehad 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 thenceforthquarter ourselves in the back-kitchen, and leave the house for him. Indeed, hewould have carpeted and papered a small spare room for a parlour; but his wifeexpressed such pleasure at the white floor and huge glowing fireplace, at thepewter dishes and delf-case, and dog-kennel, and the wide space there was tomove about in where they usually sat, that he thought it unnecessary to hercomfort, and so dropped the intention.

She expressed pleasure, too, at finding a sister among her new acquaintance;and she prattled to Catherine, and kissed her, and ran about with her, and gaveher quantities of presents, at the beginning. Her affection tired very soon,however, and when she grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical. A few words fromher, evincing a dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his oldhatred of the boy. He drove him from their company to the servants, deprivedhim of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour outof doors instead; compelling him to do so as hard as any other lad on the farm.

Heathcliff bore his degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy taught himwhat she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields. They bothpromised fair to grow up as rude as savages; the young master being entirelynegligent how they behaved, and what they did, so they kept clear of him. Hewould not even have seen after their going to church on Sundays, only Josephand the curate reprimanded his carelessness when they absented themselves; andthat reminded him to order Heathcliff a flogging, and Catherine a fast fromdinner or supper. But it was one of their chief amusem*nts to run away to themoors in the morning and remain there all day, and the after punishment grew amere thing to laugh at. The curate might set as many chapters as he pleased forCatherine to get by heart, and Joseph might thrash Heathcliff till his armached; they forgot everything the minute they were together again: at least theminute they had contrived some naughty plan of revenge; and many a timeI’ve cried to myself to watch them growing more reckless daily, and I notdaring to speak a syllable, for fear of losing the small power I still retainedover the unfriended creatures. One Sunday evening, it chanced that they werebanished from the sitting-room, for making a noise, or a light offence of thekind; and when I went to call them to supper, I could discover them nowhere. Wesearched the house, above and below, and the yard and stables; they wereinvisible: and, at last, Hindley in a passion told us to bolt the doors, andswore 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, shouldthey return. In a while, I distinguished steps coming up the road, and thelight of a lantern glimmered through the gate. I threw a shawl over my head andran 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, Ihope?” “At Thrushcross Grange,” he answered; “and Iwould have been there too, but they had not the manners to ask me tostay.” “Well, you will catch it!” I said: “you’llnever be content till you’re sent about your business. What in the worldled you wandering to Thrushcross Grange?” “Let me get off my wetclothes, and I’ll tell you all about it, Nelly,” he replied. I bidhim beware of rousing the master, and while he undressed and I waited to putout the candle, he continued—“Cathy and I escaped from thewash-house to have a ramble at liberty, and getting a glimpse of the Grangelights, we thought we would just go and see whether the Lintons passed theirSunday evenings standing shivering in corners, while their father and mothersat eating and drinking, and singing and laughing, and burning their eyes outbefore the fire. Do you think they do? Or reading sermons, and being catechisedby their man-servant, and set to learn a column of Scripture names, if theydon’t answer properly?” “Probably not,” I responded.“They are good children, no doubt, and don’t deserve the treatmentyou receive, for your bad conduct.” “Don’t cant,Nelly,” he said: “nonsense! We ran from the top of the Heights tothe park, without stopping—Catherine completely beaten in the race,because she was barefoot. You’ll have to seek for her shoes in the bogto-morrow. We crept through a broken hedge, groped our way up the path, andplanted ourselves on a flower-plot under the drawing-room window. The lightcame from thence; they had not put up the shutters, and the curtains were onlyhalf closed. Both of us were able to look in by standing on the basem*nt, andclinging to the ledge, and we saw—ah! it was beautiful—a splendidplace carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a purewhite ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silverchains from the centre, and shimmering with little soft tapers. Old Mr. andMrs. Linton were not there; Edgar and his sister had it entirely tothemselves. Shouldn’t they have been happy? We should have thoughtourselves in heaven! And now, guess what your good children were doing?Isabella—I believe she is eleven, a year younger than Cathy—layscreaming at the farther end of the room, shrieking as if witches were runningred-hot needles into her. Edgar stood on the hearth weeping silently, and inthe middle of the table sat a little dog, shaking its paw and yelping; which,from their mutual accusations, we understood they had nearly pulled in twobetween them. The idiots! That was their pleasure! to quarrel who should hold aheap of warm hair, and each begin to cry because both, after struggling to getit, refused to take it. We laughed outright at the petted things; we diddespise them! When would you catch me wishing to have what Catherine wanted? orfind us by ourselves, seeking entertainment in yelling, and sobbing, androlling on the ground, divided by the whole room? I’d not exchange, for athousand lives, my condition here, for Edgar Linton’s at ThrushcrossGrange—not if I might have the privilege of flinging Joseph off thehighest gable, and painting the house-front with Hindley’s blood!”

“Hush, hush!” I interrupted. “Still you have not told me,Heathcliff, how Catherine is left behind?”

“I told you we laughed,” he answered. “The Lintons heard us,and with one accord they shot like arrows to the door; there was silence, andthen 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 frightfulnoises to terrify them still more, and then we dropped off the ledge, becausesomebody was drawing the bars, and we felt we had better flee. I had Cathy bythe hand, and was urging her on, when all at once she fell down. ‘Run,Heathcliff, run!’ she whispered. ‘They have let the bull-dog loose,and he holds me!’ The devil had seized her ankle, Nelly: I heard hisabominable snorting. She did not yell out—no! she would have scorned todo it, if she had been spitted on the horns of a mad cow. I did, though: Ivociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in Christendom; and I got astone and thrust it between his jaws, and tried with all my might to cram itdown his throat. A beast of a servant came up with a lantern, at last,shouting—‘Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast!’ He changed hisnote, however, when he saw Skulker’s game. The dog was throttled off; hishuge, purple tongue hanging half a foot out of his mouth, and his pendent lipsstreaming with bloody slaver. The man took Cathy up; she was sick: not fromfear, I’m certain, but from pain. He carried her in; I followed,grumbling execrations and vengeance. ‘What prey, Robert?’ hallooedLinton from the entrance. ‘Skulker has caught a little girl, sir,’he replied; ‘and there’s a lad here,’ he added, making aclutch at me, ‘who looks an out-and-outer! Very like the robbers were forputting them through the window to open the doors to the gang after all wereasleep, that they might murder us at their ease. Hold your tongue, youfoul-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 oldfool. ‘The rascals knew that yesterday was my rent-day: they thought tohave 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 hisstronghold, and on the Sabbath, too! Where will their insolence stop? Oh, mydear Mary, look here! Don’t be afraid, it is but a boy—yet thevillain scowls so plainly in his face; would it not be a kindness to thecountry to hang him at once, before he shows his nature in acts as well asfeatures?’ He pulled me under the chandelier, and Mrs. Linton placed herspectacles on her nose and raised her hands in horror. The cowardly childrencrept nearer also, Isabella lisping—‘Frightful thing! Put him inthe cellar, papa. He’s exactly like the son of the fortune-teller thatstole my tame pheasant. Isn’t he, Edgar?’

“While they examined me, Cathy came round; she heard the last speech, andlaughed. Edgar Linton, after an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient wit torecognise her. They see us at church, you know, though we seldom meet themelsewhere. ‘That’s Miss Earnshaw!’ he whispered to hismother, ‘and look how Skulker has bitten her—how her footbleeds!’

“‘Miss Earnshaw? Nonsense!’ cried the dame; ‘MissEarnshaw scouring the country with a gipsy! And yet, my dear, the child is inmourning—surely it is—and she may be lamed for life!’

“‘What culpable carelessness in her brother!’ exclaimed Mr.Linton, turning from me to Catherine. ‘I’ve understood fromShielders’” (that was the curate, sir) “‘that he letsher grow up in absolute heathenism. But who is this? Where did she pick up thiscompanion? Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition my late neighbourmade, in his journey to Liverpool—a little Lascar, or an American orSpanish 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 soRobert was ordered to take me off. I refused to go without Cathy; he dragged meinto the garden, pushed the lantern into my hand, assured me that Mr. Earnshawshould be informed of my behaviour, and, bidding me march directly, secured thedoor again. The curtains were still looped up at one corner, and I resumed mystation as spy; because, if Catherine had wished to return, I intendedshattering their great glass panes to a million of fragments, unless they lether out. She sat on the sofa quietly. Mrs. Linton took off the grey cloak ofthe dairy-maid which we had borrowed for our excursion, shaking her head andexpostulating with her, I suppose: she was a young lady, and they made adistinction between her treatment and mine. Then the woman-servant brought abasin of warm water, and washed her feet; and Mr. Linton mixed a tumbler ofnegus, and Isabella emptied a plateful of cakes into her lap, and Edgar stoodgaping at a distance. Afterwards, they dried and combed her beautiful hair, andgave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her to the fire; and I lefther, as merry as she could be, dividing her food between the little dog andSkulker, whose nose she pinched as he ate; and kindling a spark of spirit inthe vacant blue eyes of the Lintons—a dim reflection from her ownenchanting face. I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she is soimmeasurably superior to them—to everybody on earth, is she not,Nelly?”

“There will more come of this business than you reckon on,” Ianswered, covering him up and extinguishing the light. “You areincurable, Heathcliff; and Mr. Hindley will have to proceed to extremities, seeif he won’t.” My words came truer than I desired. The lucklessadventure made Earnshaw furious. And then Mr. Linton, to mend matters, paid usa visit himself on the morrow, and read the young master such a lecture on theroad 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 spoketo Miss Catherine should ensure a dismissal; and Mrs. Earnshaw undertook tokeep her sister-in-law in due restraint when she returned home; employing art,not force: with force she would have found it impossible.

CHAPTER VII

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks: till Christmas. By that time herankle was thoroughly cured, and her manners much improved. The mistress visitedher often in the interval, and commenced her plan of reform by trying to raiseher self-respect with fine clothes and flattery, which she took readily; sothat, instead of a wild, hatless little savage jumping into the house, andrushing to squeeze us all breathless, there lighted from a handsome black ponya very dignified person, with brown ringlets falling from the cover of afeathered beaver, and a long cloth habit, which she was obliged to hold up withboth hands that she might sail in. Hindley lifted her from her horse,exclaiming delightedly, “Why, Cathy, you are quite a beauty! I shouldscarcely have known you: you look like a lady now. Isabella Linton is not to becompared with her, is she, Frances?” “Isabella has not her naturaladvantages,” replied his wife: “but she must mind and not grow wildagain 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 whenthe dogs came bounding up to welcome her, she dared hardly touch them lest theyshould fawn upon her splendid garments. She kissed me gently: I was all flourmaking the Christmas cake, and it would not have done to give me a hug; andthen she looked round for Heathcliff. Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw watched anxiouslytheir meeting; thinking it would enable them to judge, in some measure, whatgrounds they had for hoping to succeed in separating the two friends.

Heathcliff was hard to discover, at first. If he were careless, and uncaredfor, 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 himwash himself, once a week; and children of his age seldom have a naturalpleasure in soap and water. Therefore, not to mention his clothes, which hadseen 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 skulkbehind the settle, on beholding such a bright, graceful damsel enter the house,instead of a rough-headed counterpart of himself, as he expected. “IsHeathcliff not here?” she demanded, pulling off her gloves, anddisplaying fingers wonderfully whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors.

“Heathcliff, you may come forward,” cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying hisdiscomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard he wouldbe compelled to present himself. “You may come and wish Miss Catherinewelcome, like the other servants.”

Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to embracehim; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the second, andthen stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaiming, “Why, howvery black and cross you look! and how—how funny and grim! Butthat’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 gloomover 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 nothinder myself: Heathcliff, shake hands at least! What are you sulky for? It wasonly that you looked odd. If you wash your face and brush your hair, it will beall right: but you are so dirty!”

She gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers she held in her own, and also at herdress; which she feared had gained no embellishment from its contact with his.

“You needn’t have touched me!” he answered, following her eyeand snatching away his hand. “I shall be as dirty as I please: and I liketo be dirty, and I will be dirty.”

With that he dashed headforemost out of the room, amid the merriment of themaster and mistress, and to the serious disturbance of Catherine; who could notcomprehend how her remarks should have produced such an exhibition of badtemper.

After playing lady’s-maid to the new-comer, and putting my cakes in theoven, and making the house and kitchen cheerful with great fires, befittingChristmas-eve, I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by singing carols, allalone; regardless of Joseph’s affirmations that he considered the merrytunes I chose as next door to songs. He had retired to private prayer in hischamber, and Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw were engaging Missy’s attention bysundry gay trifles bought for her to present to the little Lintons, as anacknowledgment of their kindness. They had invited them to spend the morrow atWuthering 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 circ*mstances I remained solitary. I smelt the rich scent of theheating spices; and admired the shining kitchen utensils, the polished clock,decked in holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray ready to be filled withmulled ale for supper; and above all, the speckless purity of my particularcare—the scoured and well-swept floor. I gave due inward applause toevery object, and then I remembered how old Earnshaw used to come in when allwas tidied, and call me a cant lass, and slip a shilling into my hand as aChristmas-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: andthat naturally led me to consider the poor lad’s situation now, and fromsinging I changed my mind to crying. It struck me soon, however, there would bemore sense in endeavouring to repair some of his wrongs than shedding tearsover them: I got up and walked into the court to seek him. He was not far; Ifound him smoothing the glossy coat of the new pony in the stable, and feedingthe other beasts, according to custom.

“Make haste, Heathcliff!” I said, “the kitchen is socomfortable; and Joseph is upstairs: make haste, and let me dress you smartbefore Miss Cathy comes out, and then you can sit together, with the wholehearth 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 alittle cake for each of you, nearly enough; and you’ll needhalf-an-hour’s donning.”

I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him. Catherine supped withher brother and sister-in-law: Joseph and I joined at an unsociable meal,seasoned with reproofs on one side and sauciness on the other. His cake andcheese remained on the table all night for the fairies. He managed to continuework 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 hernew friends: she came into the kitchen once to speak to her old one; but he wasgone, and she only stayed to ask what was the matter with him, and then wentback. In the morning he rose early; and, as it was a holiday, carried hisill-humour on to the moors; not re-appearing till the family were departed forchurch. 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, exclaimedabruptly—“Nelly, make me decent, I’m going to be good.”

“High time, Heathcliff,” I said; “you have grievedCatherine: she’s sorry she ever came home, I daresay! It looks as if youenvied her, because she is more thought of than you.”

The notion of envying Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but thenotion of grieving her he understood clearly enough.

“Did she say she was grieved?” he inquired, looking very serious.

“She cried when I told her you were off again this morning.”

“Well, I cried last night,” he returned, “and I hadmore reason to cry than she.”

“Yes: you had the reason of going to bed with a proud heart and an emptystomach,” said I. “Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.But, if you be ashamed of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when shecomes in. You must go up and offer to kiss her, and say—you know bestwhat to say; only do it heartily, and not as if you thought her converted intoa 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 adoll beside you: and that he does. You are younger, and yet, I’ll bebound, you are taller and twice as broad across the shoulders; you could knockhim down in a twinkling; don’t you feel that you could?”

Heathcliff’s face brightened a moment; then it was overcast afresh, andhe sighed.

“But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn’t makehim less handsome or me more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, andwas dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as he willbe!”

“And cried for mamma at every turn,” I added, “and trembledif a country lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for ashower of rain. Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to theglass, and I’ll let you see what you should wish. Do you mark those twolines between your eyes; and those thick brows, that, instead of rising arched,sink in the middle; and that couple of black fiends, so deeply buried, whonever open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting under them, likedevil’s spies? Wish and learn to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to raiseyour lids frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent angels,suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where they are notsure of foes. Don’t get the expression of a vicious cur that appears toknow the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet hates all the world, as well asthe kicker, for what it suffers.”

“In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton’s great blue eyes andeven forehead,” he replied. “I do—and that won’t helpme 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 intosomething worse than ugly. And now that we’ve done washing, and combing,and sulking—tell me whether you don’t think yourself ratherhandsome? 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 Indianqueen, each of them able to buy up, with one week’s income, WutheringHeights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were kidnapped by wickedsailors and brought to England. Were I in your place, I would frame highnotions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage anddignity to support the oppressions of a little farmer!”

So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his frown and began to lookquite pleasant, when all at once our conversation was interrupted by a rumblingsound moving up the road and entering the court. He ran to the window and I tothe door, just in time to behold the two Lintons descend from the familycarriage, smothered in cloaks and furs, and the Earnshaws dismount from theirhorses: they often rode to church in winter. Catherine took a hand of each ofthe 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 hewillingly obeyed; but ill luck would have it that, as he opened the doorleading 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, eagerto keep his promise to Mrs. Linton, shoved him back with a sudden thrust, andangrily bade Joseph “keep the fellow out of the room—send him intothe garret till dinner is over. He’ll be cramming his fingers in thetarts and stealing the fruit, if left alone with them a minute.”

“Nay, sir,” I could not avoid answering, “he’ll touchnothing, not he: and I suppose he must have his share of the dainties as wellas we.”

“He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs tilldark,” cried Hindley. “Begone, you vagabond! What! you areattempting the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegantlocks—see if I won’t pull them a bit longer!”

“They are long enough already,” observed Master Linton, peepingfrom 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’sviolent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence fromone whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He seized a tureen of hotapple sauce, the first thing that came under his gripe, and dashed it fullagainst the speaker’s face and neck; who instantly commenced a lamentthat brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the place. Mr. Earnshawsnatched up the culprit directly and conveyed him to his chamber; where,doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool the fit of passion, for heappeared red and breathless. I got the dish-cloth, and rather spitefullyscrubbed Edgar’s nose and mouth, affirming it served him right formeddling. 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 MasterLinton. “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 mydinner. Why did you speak to him, Edgar?”

“I didn’t,” sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, andfinishing the remainder of the purification with his cambricpocket-handkerchief. “I promised mamma that I wouldn’t say one wordto him, and I didn’t.”

“Well, don’t cry,” replied Catherine, contemptuously;“you’re not killed. Don’t make more mischief; my brother iscoming: 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, MasterEdgar, take the law into your own fists—it will give you anappetite!”

The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant feast. Theywere hungry after their ride, and easily consoled, since no real harm hadbefallen them. Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls, and the mistress madethem merry with lively talk. I waited behind her chair, and was pained tobehold Catherine, with dry eyes and an indifferent air, commence cutting up thewing of a goose before her. “An unfeeling child,” I thought tomyself; “how lightly she dismisses her old playmate’s troubles. Icould not have imagined her to be so selfish.” She lifted a mouthful toher lips: then she set it down again: her cheeks flushed, and the tears gushedover them. She slipped her fork to the floor, and hastily dived under the clothto conceal her emotion. I did not call her unfeeling long; for I perceived shewas in purgatory throughout the day, and wearying to find an opportunity ofgetting by herself, or paying a visit to Heathcliff, who had been locked up bythe master: as I discovered, on endeavouring to introduce to him a private messof victuals.

In the evening we had a dance. Cathy begged that he might be liberated then, asIsabella Linton had no partner: her entreaties were vain, and I was appointedto supply the deficiency. We got rid of all gloom in the excitement of theexercise, and our pleasure was increased by the arrival of the Gimmerton band,mustering fifteen strong: a trumpet, a trombone, clarionets, bassoons, Frenchhorns, and a bass viol, besides singers. They go the rounds of all therespectable houses, and receive contributions every Christmas, and we esteemedit a first-rate treat to hear them. After the usual carols had been sung, weset them to songs and glees. Mrs. Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave usplenty.

Catherine loved it too: but she said it sounded sweetest at the top of thesteps, 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 thestairs’-head, but mounted farther, to the garret where Heathcliff wasconfined, and called him. He stubbornly declined answering for a while: shepersevered, and finally persuaded him to hold communion with her through theboards. I let the poor things converse unmolested, till I supposed the songswere going to cease, and the singers to get some refreshment: then I clamberedup the ladder to warn her. Instead of finding her outside, I heard her voicewithin. The little monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret, along theroof, into the skylight of the other, and it was with the utmost difficulty Icould coax her out again. When she did come, Heathcliff came with her, and sheinsisted that I should take him into the kitchen, as my fellow-servant had goneto a neighbour’s, to be removed from the sound of our“devil’s psalmody,” as it pleased him to call it. I told themI intended by no means to encourage their tricks: but as the prisoner had neverbroken his fast since yesterday’s dinner, I would wink at his cheatingMr. Hindley that once. He went down: I set him a stool by the fire, and offeredhim a quantity of good things: but he was sick and could eat little, and myattempts to entertain him were thrown away. He leant his two elbows on hisknees, and his chin on his hands, and remained rapt in dumb meditation. On myinquiring the subject of his thoughts, he answeredgravely—“I’m trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. Idon’t care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he willnot die before I do!”

“For shame, Heathcliff!” said I. “It is for God to punishwicked people; we should learn to forgive.”

“No, God won’t have the satisfaction that I shall,” hereturned. “I only wish I knew the best way! Let me alone, and I’llplan 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 annoyedhow I should dream of chattering on at such a rate; and your gruel cold, andyou nodding for bed! I could have told Heathcliff’s history, all that youneed hear, in half a dozen words.

* * * * *

Thus interrupting herself, the housekeeper rose, and proceeded to lay aside hersewing; but I felt incapable of moving from the hearth, and I was very far fromnodding. “Sit still, Mrs. Dean,” I cried; “do sit stillanother 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 aminterested in every character you have mentioned, more or less.”

“The clock is on the stroke of eleven, sir.”

“No matter—I’m not accustomed to go to bed in the long hours.One or two is early enough for a person who lies till ten.”

“You shouldn’t lie till ten. There’s the very prime of themorning gone long before that time. A person who has not done one-half hisday’s work by ten o’clock, runs a chance of leaving the other halfundone.”

“Nevertheless, Mrs. Dean, resume your chair; because to-morrow I intendlengthening the night till afternoon. I prognosticate for myself an obstinatecold, 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 withthe mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking itskitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so intently thatpuss’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 acquireover people in towns the value that a spider in a dungeon does over a spider ina cottage, to their various occupants; and yet the deepened attraction is notentirely owing to the situation of the looker-on. They do live more inearnest, more in themselves, and less in surface, change, and frivolousexternal things. I could fancy a love for life here almost possible; and I wasa fixed unbeliever in any love of a year’s standing. One state resemblessetting a hungry man down to a single dish, on which he may concentrate hisentire appetite and do it justice; the other, introducing him to a table laidout 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 knowus,” observed Mrs. Dean, somewhat puzzled at my speech.

“Excuse me,” I responded; “you, my good friend, are astriking evidence against that assertion. Excepting a few provincialisms ofslight consequence, you have no marks of the manners which I am habituated toconsider as peculiar to your class. I am sure you have thought a great dealmore than the generality of servants think. You have been compelled tocultivate your reflective faculties for want of occasions for frittering yourlife away in silly trifles.”

Mrs. Dean laughed.

“I certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body,” shesaid; “not exactly from living among the hills and seeing one set offaces, 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, Ihave read more than you would fancy, Mr. Lockwood. You could not open a book inthis library that I have not looked into, and got something out of also: unlessit be that range of Greek and Latin, and that of French; and those I know onefrom 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 hadbetter go on; and instead of leaping three years, I will be content to pass tothe next summer—the summer of 1778, that is nearly twenty-three yearsago.”

CHAPTER VIII

On the morning of a fine June day my first bonny little nursling, and the lastof the ancient Earnshaw stock, was born. We were busy with the hay in afar-away field, when the girl that usually brought our breakfasts came runningan 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 ladthat ever breathed! But the doctor says missis must go: he says she’sbeen in a consumption these many months. I heard him tell Mr. Hindley: and nowshe has nothing to keep her, and she’ll be dead before winter. You mustcome home directly. You’re to nurse it, Nelly: to feed it with sugar andmilk, and take care of it day and night. I wish I were you, because it will beall yours when there is no missis!”

“But is she very ill?” I asked, flinging down my rake and tying mybonnet.

“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 herI’m certain I should not die: I should get better at the bare sight ofit, in spite of Kenneth. I was fairly mad at him. Dame Archer brought thecherub down to master, in the house, and his face just began to light up, whenthe old croaker steps forward, and says he—‘Earnshaw, it’s ablessing your wife has been spared to leave you this son. When she came, I feltconvinced we shouldn’t keep her long; and now, I must tell you, thewinter will probably finish her. Don’t take on, and fret about it toomuch: it can’t be helped. And besides, you should have known better thanto choose such a rush of a lass!’”

“And what did the master answer?” I inquired.

“I think he swore: but I didn’t mind him, I was straining to seethe bairn,” and she began again to describe it rapturously. I, as zealousas herself, hurried eagerly home to admire, on my part; though I was very sadfor Hindley’s sake. He had room in his heart only for two idols—hiswife and himself: he doted on both, and adored one, and I couldn’tconceive how he would bear the loss.

When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door; and, as Ipassed in, I asked, “how was the baby?”

“Nearly ready to run about, Nell!” he replied, putting on acheerful smile.

“And the mistress?” I ventured to inquire; “the doctor saysshe’s—”

“Damn the doctor!” he interrupted, reddening. “Frances isquite right: she’ll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are yougoing upstairs? will you tell her that I’ll come, if she’ll promisenot to talk. I left her because she would not hold her tongue; and shemust—tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be quiet.”

I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw; she seemed in flighty spirits, andreplied merrily, “I hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there he has gone outtwice, crying. Well, say I promise I won’t speak: but that does not bindme not to laugh at him!”

Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failed her; andher husband persisted doggedly, nay, furiously, in affirming her healthimproved every day. When Kenneth warned him that his medicines were useless atthat stage of the malady, and he needn’t put him to further expense byattending her, he retorted, “I know you need not—she’swell—she does not want any more attendance from you! She never was in aconsumption. 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 beable to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her—a very slightone—he raised her in his arms; she put her two hands about his neck, herface 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 thatkind that will not lament. He neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied:execrated God and man, and gave himself up to reckless dissipation. Theservants could not bear his tyrannical and evil conduct long: Joseph and I werethe only two that would stay. I had not the heart to leave my charge; andbesides, you know, I had been his foster-sister, and excused his behaviour morereadily than a stranger would. Joseph remained to hector over tenants andlabourers; and because it was his vocation to be where he had plenty ofwickedness to reprove.

The master’s bad ways and bad companions formed a pretty example forCatherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to make afiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if the lad were possessedof something diabolical at that period. He delighted to witness Hindleydegrading himself past redemption; and became daily more notable for savagesullenness 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; unlessEdgar Linton’s visits to Miss Cathy might be an exception. At fifteen shewas the queen of the country-side; she had no peer; and she did turn out ahaughty, headstrong creature! I own I did not like her, after infancy was past;and I vexed her frequently by trying to bring down her arrogance: she nevertook an aversion to me, though. She had a wondrous constancy to oldattachments: even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections unalterably; andyoung Linton, with all his superiority, found it difficult to make an equallydeep impression. He was my late master: that is his portrait over thefireplace. It used to hang on one side, and his wife’s on the other; buthers has been removed, or else you might see something of what she was. Can youmake that out?

Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I discerned a soft-featured face, exceedinglyresembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable inexpression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly onthe temples; the eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful. Idid not marvel how Catherine Earnshaw could forget her first friend for such anindividual. I marvelled much how he, with a mind to correspond with his person,could fancy my idea of Catherine Earnshaw.

“A very agreeable portrait,” I observed to the house-keeper.“Is it like?”

“Yes,” she answered; “but he looked better when he wasanimated; that is his everyday countenance: he wanted spirit in general.”

Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since herfive-weeks’ residence among them; and as she had no temptation to showher rough side in their company, and had the sense to be ashamed of being rudewhere she experienced such invariable courtesy, she imposed unwittingly on theold lady and gentleman by her ingenious cordiality; gained the admiration ofIsabella, and the heart and soul of her brother: acquisitions that flatteredher from the first—for she was full of ambition—and led her toadopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive any one. In theplace where she heard Heathcliff termed a “vulgar young ruffian,”and “worse than a brute,” she took care not to act like him; but athome she had small inclination to practise politeness that would only belaughed at, and restrain an unruly nature when it would bring her neithercredit nor praise.

Mr. Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had aterror of Earnshaw’s reputation, and shrunk from encountering him; andyet he was always received with our best attempts at civility: the masterhimself avoided offending him, knowing why he came; and if he could not begracious, kept out of the way. I rather think his appearance there wasdistasteful to Catherine; she was not artful, never played the coquette, andhad evidently an objection to her two friends meeting at all; for whenHeathcliff expressed contempt of Linton in his presence, she could not halfcoincide, as she did in his absence; and when Linton evinced disgust andantipathy 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 shevainly strove to hide from my mockery. That sounds ill-natured: but she was soproud, it became really impossible to pity her distresses, till she should bechastened into more humility. She did bring herself, finally, to confess, andto confide in me: there was not a soul else that she might fashion into anadviser.

Mr. Hindley had gone from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed to givehimself a holiday on the strength of it. He had reached the age of sixteenthen, I think, and without having bad features, or being deficient inintellect, he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outwardrepulsiveness 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 hardwork, begun soon and concluded late, had extinguished any curiosity he oncepossessed in pursuit of knowledge, and any love for books or learning. Hischildhood’s sense of superiority, instilled into him by the favours ofold Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away. He struggled long to keep up an equality withCatherine in her studies, and yielded with poignant though silent regret: buthe yielded completely; and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in theway of moving upward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath hisformer level. Then personal appearance sympathised with mental deterioration:he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his naturally reserveddisposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociablemoroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the aversionrather than the esteem of his few acquaintance.

Catherine and he were constant companions still at his seasons of respite fromlabour; but he had ceased to express his fondness for her in words, andrecoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses, as if conscious therecould be no gratification in lavishing such marks of affection on him. On thebefore-named occasion he came into the house to announce his intention of doingnothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathy to arrange her dress: she had notreckoned on his taking it into his head to be idle; and imagining she wouldhave 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. “Areyou going anywhere?”

“No, it is raining,” she answered.

“Why have you that silk frock on, then?” he said. “Nobodycoming here, I hope?”

“Not that I know of,” stammered Miss: “but you should be inthe field now, Heathcliff. It is an hour past dinner time; I thought you weregone.”

“Hindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,”observed the boy. “I’ll not work any more to-day: I’ll staywith you.”

“Oh, but Joseph will tell,” she suggested; “you’dbetter go!”

“Joseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it willtake him till dark, and he’ll never know.”

So saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down. Catherine reflected aninstant, with knitted brows—she found it needful to smooth the way for anintrusion. “Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling thisafternoon,” 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—butI’ll not—”

“That they what?” cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubledcountenance. “Oh, Nelly!” she added petulantly, jerking her headaway 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 complainingabout, Heathcliff?”

“Nothing—only look at the almanack on that wall;” he pointedto a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, “The crossesare for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spentwith 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, growingmore irritated. “What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might bedumb, 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 dislikedmy company, Cathy!” exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.

“It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and saynothing,” she muttered.

Her companion rose up, but he hadn’t time to express his feelingsfurther, for a horse’s feet were heard on the flags, and having knockedgently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at the unexpectedsummons he had received. Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between herfriends, as one came in and the other went out. The contrast resembled what yousee 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, lowmanner of speaking, and pronounced his words as you do: that’s less gruffthan 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 thedresser.

“No,” answered Catherine. “What are you doing there,Nelly?”

“My work, Miss,” I replied. (Mr. Hindley had given me directions tomake a third party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.)

She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, “Take yourself and yourdusters off; when company are in the house, servants don’t commencescouring and cleaning in the room where they are!”

“It’s a good opportunity, now that master is away,” Ianswered aloud: “he hates me to be fidgeting over these things in hispresence. I’m sure Mr. Edgar will excuse me.”

“I hate you to be fidgeting in my presence,” exclaimed theyoung lady imperiously, not allowing her guest time to speak: she had failed torecover her equanimity since the little dispute with Heathcliff.

“I’m sorry for it, Miss Catherine,” was my response; and Iproceeded assiduously with my occupation.

She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand, andpinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm. I’vesaid I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying her vanity now andthen: besides, she hurt me extremely; so I started up from my knees, andscreamed out, “Oh, Miss, that’s a nasty trick! You have no right tonip me, and I’m not going to bear it.”

“I didn’t touch you, you lying creature!” cried she, herfingers tingling to repeat the act, and her ears red with rage. She never hadpower to conceal her passion, it always set her whole complexion in a blaze.

“What’s that, then?” I retorted, showing a decided purplewitness to refute her.

She stamped her foot, wavered a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled by thenaughty spirit within her, slapped me on the cheek: a stinging blow that filledboth eyes with water.

“Catherine, love! Catherine!” interposed Linton, greatly shocked atthe 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 thefloor, at seeing my tears commenced crying himself, and sobbed out complaintsagainst “wicked aunt Cathy,” which drew her fury on to his unluckyhead: 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 instantone was wrung free, and the astonished young man felt it applied over his ownear in a way that could not be mistaken for jest. He drew back inconsternation. I lifted Hareton in my arms, and walked off to the kitchen withhim, leaving the door of communication open, for I was curious to watch howthey would settle their disagreement. The insulted visitor moved to the spotwhere he had laid his hat, pale and with a quivering lip.

“That’s right!” I said to myself. “Take warning andbegone! It’s a kindness to let you have a glimpse of her genuinedisposition.”

“Where are you going?” demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.

He swerved aside, and attempted to pass.

“You must not go!” she exclaimed, energetically.

“I must and shall!” he replied in a subdued voice.

“No,” she persisted, grasping the handle; “not yet, EdgarLinton: sit down; you shall not leave me in that temper. I should be miserableall 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 didnothing deliberately. Well, go, if you please—get away! And nowI’ll cry—I’ll cry myself sick!”

She dropped down on her knees by a chair, and set to weeping in seriousearnest. Edgar persevered in his resolution as far as the court; there helingered. I resolved to encourage him.

“Miss is dreadfully wayward, sir,” I called out. “As bad asany 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 todepart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse half killed, or abird 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 thehouse again, shut the door behind him; and when I went in a while after toinform them that Earnshaw had come home rabid drunk, ready to pull the wholeplace about our ears (his ordinary frame of mind in that condition), I saw thequarrel had merely effected a closer intimacy—had broken the outworks ofyouthful timidity, and enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, andconfess 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 theshot out of the master’s fowling-piece, which he was fond of playing within his insane excitement, to the hazard of the lives of any who provoked, oreven 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 IX

He entered, vociferating oaths dreadful to hear; and caught me in the act ofstowing his son away in the kitchen cupboard. Hareton was impressed with awholesome terror of encountering either his wild beast’s fondness or hismadman’s rage; for in one he ran a chance of being squeezed and kissed todeath, and in the other of being flung into the fire, or dashed against thewall; and the poor thing remained perfectly quiet wherever I chose to put him.

“There, I’ve found it out at last!” cried Hindley, pulling meback 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 youswallow the carving-knife, Nelly! You needn’t laugh; for I’ve justcrammed Kenneth, head-downmost, in the Black-horse marsh; and two is the sameas one—and I want to kill some of you: I shall have no rest till Ido!”

“But I don’t like the carving-knife, Mr. Hindley,” Ianswered; “it has been cutting red herrings. I’d rather be shot, ifyou 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, andmine’s abominable! Open your mouth.”

He held the knife in his hand, and pushed its point between my teeth: but, formy part, I was never much afraid of his vagaries. I spat out, and affirmed ittasted detestably—I would not take it on any account.

“Oh!” said he, releasing me, “I see that hideous littlevillain is not Hareton: I beg your pardon, Nell. If it be, he deserves flayingalive 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 ascissors—something fierce and trim! Besides, it’s infernalaffectation—devilish conceit it is, to cherish our ears—we’reasses 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 amonster! As sure as I’m living, I’ll break the brat’sneck.”

Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father’s arms with all hismight, and redoubled his yells when he carried him upstairs and lifted him overthe banister. I cried out that he would frighten the child into fits, and ranto rescue him. As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listento a noise below; almost forgetting what he had in his hands. “Who isthat?” he asked, hearing some one approaching the stairs’-foot. Ileant forward also, for the purpose of signing to Heathcliff, whose step Irecognised, not to come further; and, at the instant when my eye quittedHareton, he gave a sudden spring, delivered himself from the careless graspthat held him, and fell.

There was scarcely time to experience a thrill of horror before we saw that thelittle wretch was safe. Heathcliff arrived underneath just at the criticalmoment; by a natural impulse he arrested his descent, and setting him on hisfeet, looked up to discover the author of the accident. A miser who has partedwith a lucky lottery ticket for five shillings, and finds next day he has lostin the bargain five thousand pounds, could not show a blanker countenance thanhe did on beholding the figure of Mr. Earnshaw above. It expressed, plainerthan words could do, the intensest anguish at having made himself theinstrument of thwarting his own revenge. Had it been dark, I daresay he wouldhave tried to remedy the mistake by smashing Hareton’s skull on thesteps; but, we witnessed his salvation; and I was presently below with myprecious charge pressed to my heart. Hindley descended more leisurely, soberedand abashed.

“It is your fault, Ellen,” he said; “you should have kept himout of sight: you should have taken him from me! Is he injured anywhere?”

“Injured!” I cried angrily; “if he is not killed, he’llbe an idiot! Oh! I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave to see howyou use him. You’re worse than a heathen—treating your own fleshand blood in that manner!”

He attempted to touch the child, who, on finding himself with me, sobbed offhis terror directly. At the first finger his father laid on him, however, heshrieked again louder than before, and struggled as if he would go intoconvulsions.

“You shall not meddle with him!” I continued. “He hatesyou—they all hate you—that’s the truth! A happy family youhave; and a pretty state you’re come to!”

“I shall come to a prettier, yet, Nelly,” laughed the misguidedman, recovering his hardness. “At present, convey yourself and him away.And hark you, Heathcliff! clear you too quite from my reach and hearing. Iwouldn’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 pouredsome into a tumbler.

“Nay, don’t!” I entreated. “Mr. Hindley, do takewarning. Have mercy on this unfortunate boy, if you care nothing foryourself!”

“Any one will do better for him than I shall,” he answered.

“Have mercy on your own soul!” I said, endeavouring to snatch theglass from his hand.

“Not I! On the contrary, I shall have great pleasure in sending it toperdition 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 asequel of horrid imprecations too bad to repeat or remember.

“It’s a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,” observedHeathcliff, 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 thisside Gimmerton, and go to the grave a hoary sinner; unless some happy chanceout 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 afterwardsthat he only got as far as the other side the settle, when he flung himself ona 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 saysomething, 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 havingforgotten 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 followedanother long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two trickle fromCatherine’s cheek to the flags. Is she sorry for her shamefulconduct?—I asked myself. That will be a novelty: but she may come to thepoint as she will—I sha’n’t help her! No, she felt smalltrouble regarding any subject, save her own concerns.

“Oh, dear!” she cried at last. “I’m veryunhappy!”

“A pity,” observed I. “You’re hard to please; so manyfriends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content!”

“Nelly, will you keep a secret for me?” she pursued, kneeling downby me, and lifting her winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look whichturns off bad temper, even when one has all the right in the world to indulgeit.

“Is it worth keeping?” I inquired, less sulkily.

“Yes, and it worries me, and I must let it out! I want to know what Ishould do. To-day, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I’ve givenhim an answer. Now, before I tell you whether it was a consent or denial, youtell me which it ought to have been.”

“Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?” I replied. “To besure, 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, hemust 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 saywhether I was wrong!”

“You accepted him! Then what good is it discussing the matter? You havepledged your word, and cannot retract.”

“But say whether I should have done so—do!” she exclaimed inan irritated tone; chafing her hands together, and frowning.

“There are many things to be considered before that question can beanswered properly,” I said, sententiously. “First and foremost, doyou 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 wasnot injudicious.

“Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?”

“Nonsense, I do—that’s sufficient.”

“By no means; you must say why?”

“Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.”

“Bad!” was my commentary.

“And because he is young and cheerful.”

“Bad, still.”

“And because he loves me.”

“Indifferent, coming there.”

“And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of theneighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.”

“Worst of all. And now, say how you love him?”

“As everybody loves—You’re silly, Nelly.”

“Not at all—Answer.”

“I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, andeverything he touches, and every word he says. I love all his looks, and allhis 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 herface 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, andrich, and loves you. The last, however, goes for nothing: you would love himwithout that, probably; and with it you wouldn’t, unless he possessed thefour former attractions.”

“No, to be sure not: I should only pity him—hate him, perhaps, ifhe 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 lovingthem?”

“If there be any, they are out of my way: I’ve seen none likeEdgar.”

“You may see some; and he won’t always be handsome, and young, andmay not always be rich.”

“He is now; and I have only to do with the present. I wish you wouldspeak rationally.”

“Well, that settles it: if you have only to do with the present, marryMr. Linton.”

“I don’t want your permission for that—I shall marryhim: and yet you have not told me whether I’m right.”

“Perfectly right; if people be right to marry only for the present. Andnow, let us hear what you are unhappy about. Your brother will be pleased; theold lady and gentleman will not object, I think; you will escape from adisorderly, comfortless home into a wealthy, respectable one; and you loveEdgar, and Edgar loves you. All seems smooth and easy: where is theobstacle?”

“Here! and here!” replied Catherine, striking onehand on her forehead, and the other on her breast: “in whichever placethe soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I’m convinced I’mwrong!”

“That’s very strange! I cannot make it out.”

“It’s my secret. But if you will not mock at me, I’ll explainit: I can’t do it distinctly; but I’ll give you a feeling of how Ifeel.”

She seated herself by me again: her countenance grew sadder and graver, and herclasped hands trembled.

“Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?” she said, suddenly, aftersome minutes’ reflection.

“Yes, now and then,” I answered.

“And so do I. I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed withme 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 ofit.”

“Oh! don’t, Miss Catherine!” I cried. “We’redismal enough without conjuring up ghosts and visions to perplex us. Come,come, be merry and like yourself! Look at little Hareton! he’sdreaming nothing dreary. How sweetly he smiles in his sleep!”

“Yes; and how sweetly his father curses in his solitude! You rememberhim, I daresay, when he was just such another as that chubby thing: nearly asyoung and innocent. However, Nelly, I shall oblige you to listen: it’snot 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 anunusual gloom in her aspect, that made me dread something from which I mightshape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe. She was vexed, but she didnot proceed. Apparently taking up another subject, she recommenced in a shorttime.

“If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable.”

“Because you are not fit to go there,” I answered. “Allsinners 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 thatheaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to comeback to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into themiddle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing forjoy. That will do to explain my secret, as well as the other. I’ve nomore business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if thewicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t havethought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall neverknow how I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, butbecause he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, hisand mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam fromlightning, or frost from fire.”

Ere this speech ended I became sensible of Heathcliff’s presence. Havingnoticed 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 woulddegrade 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 remarkinghis 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 hiscartwheels up the road; “and Heathcliff will come in with him. I’mnot 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 meto sup with you. I want to cheat my uncomfortable conscience, and be convincedthat Heathcliff has no notion of these things. He has not, has he? He does notknow what being in love is!”

“I see no reason that he should not know, as well as you,” Ireturned; “and if you are his choice, he’ll be the mostunfortunate creature that ever was born! As soon as you become Mrs. Linton, heloses friend, and love, and all! Have you considered how you’ll bear theseparation, 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 ofindignation. “Who is to separate us, pray? They’ll meet the fate ofMilo! Not as long as I live, Ellen: for no mortal creature. Every Linton on theface of the earth might melt into nothing before I could consent to forsakeHeathcliff. Oh, that’s not what I intend—that’s not what Imean! I shouldn’t be Mrs. Linton were such a price demanded! He’llbe as much to me as he has been all his lifetime. Edgar must shake off hisantipathy, and tolerate him, at least. He will, when he learns my true feelingstowards him. Nelly, I see now you think me a selfish wretch; but did it neverstrike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars? whereas, ifI marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of mybrother’s power.”

“With your husband’s money, Miss Catherine?” I asked.“You’ll find him not so pliable as you calculate upon: and, thoughI’m hardly a judge, I think that’s the worst motive you’vegiven yet for being the wife of young Linton.”

“It is not,” retorted she; “it is the best! The others werethe 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 Edgarand myself. I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notionthat there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the useof my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in thisworld have been Heathcliff’s miseries, and I watched and felt each fromthe beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, andhe remained, I should still continue to be; and if all elseremained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mightystranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like thefoliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winterchanges the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath:a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I amHeathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any morethan I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don’t talkof our separation again: it is impracticable; and—”

She paused, and hid her face in the folds of my gown; but I jerked it forciblyaway. I was out of patience with her folly!

“If I can make any sense of your nonsense, Miss,” I said, “itonly goes to convince me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake inmarrying; or else that you are a wicked, unprincipled girl. But trouble me withno 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 madethe supper. After it was cooked, my fellow-servant and I began to quarrel whoshould carry some to Mr. Hindley; and we didn’t settle it till all wasnearly cold. Then we came to the agreement that we would let him ask, if hewanted any; for we feared particularly to go into his presence when he had beensome time alone.

“And how isn’t that nowt comed in fro’ th’ field, bethis time? What is he about? girt idle seeght!” demanded the old man,looking round for Heathcliff.

“I’ll call him,” I replied. “He’s in the barn,I’ve no doubt.”

I went and called, but got no answer. On returning, I whispered to Catherinethat he had heard a good part of what she said, I was sure; and told how I sawhim quit the kitchen just as she complained of her brother’s conductregarding 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 shewas so flurried, or how her talk would have affected him. She was absent such awhile that Joseph proposed we should wait no longer. He cunningly conjecturedthey were staying away in order to avoid hearing his protracted blessing. Theywere “ill eneugh for ony fahl manners,” he affirmed. And on theirbehalf he added that night a special prayer to the usualquarter-of-an-hour’s supplication before meat, and would have tackedanother to the end of the grace, had not his young mistress broken in upon himwith a hurried command that he must run down the road, and, wherever Heathcliffhad 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 hewould not reply, though I shouted at the top of the fold as loud as Icould.”

Joseph objected at first; she was too much in earnest, however, to suffercontradiction; and at last he placed his hat on his head, and walked grumblingforth. Meantime, Catherine paced up and down the floor,exclaiming—“I wonder where he is—I wonder where he canbe! What did I say, Nelly? I’ve forgotten. Was he vexed at my bad humourthis afternoon? Dear! tell me what I’ve said to grieve him? I do wishhe’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 thatHeathcliff should take a moonlight saunter on the moors, or even lie too sulkyto speak to us in the hay-loft. I’ll engage he’s lurking there. Seeif I don’t ferret him out!”

I departed to renew my search; its result was disappointment, andJoseph’s quest ended in the same.

“Yon lad gets war und war!” observed he on re-entering.“He’s left th’ gate at t’ full swing, and Miss’spony has trodden dahn two rigs o’ corn, and plottered through, raighto’er into t’ meadow! Hahsomdiver, t’ maister ’ull playt’ devil to-morn, and he’ll do weel. He’s patience itsselnwi’ sich careless, offald craters—patience itsseln he is! Budhe’ll not be soa allus—yah’s see, all on ye! Yahmun’n’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 aneeght loike this—as black as t’ chimbley! und Heathcliff’snoan t’ chap to coom at my whistle—happen he’ll beless hard o’ hearing wi’ ye!”

It was a very dark evening for summer: the clouds appeared inclined tothunder, and I said we had better all sit down; the approaching rain would becertain to bring him home without further trouble. However, Catherine would notbe persuaded into tranquillity. She kept wandering to and fro, from the gate tothe door, in a state of agitation which permitted no repose; and at length tookup a permanent situation on one side of the wall, near the road: where,heedless of my expostulations and the growling thunder, and the great dropsthat began to plash around her, she remained, calling at intervals, and thenlistening, and then crying outright. She beat Hareton, or any child, at a goodpassionate fit of crying.

About midnight, while we still sat up, the storm came rattling over the Heightsin full fury. There was a violent wind, as well as thunder, and either one orthe other split a tree off at the corner of the building: a huge bough fellacross the roof, and knocked down a portion of the east chimney-stack, sendinga clatter of stones and soot into the kitchen-fire. We thought a bolt hadfallen in the middle of us; and Joseph swung on to his knees, beseeching theLord to remember the patriarchs Noah and Lot, and, as in former times, sparethe righteous, though he smote the ungodly. I felt some sentiment that it mustbe a judgment on us also. The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr. Earnshaw; and I shookthe handle of his den that I might ascertain if he were yet living. He repliedaudibly enough, in a fashion which made my companion vociferate, moreclamorously than before, that a wide distinction might be drawn between saintslike himself and sinners like his master. But the uproar passed away in twentyminutes, leaving us all unharmed; excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenchedfor her obstinacy in refusing to take shelter, and standing bonnetless andshawlless to catch as much water as she could with her hair and clothes. Shecame in and lay down on the settle, all soaked as she was, turning her face tothe back, and putting her hands before it.

“Well, Miss!” I exclaimed, touching her shoulder; “you arenot 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 any longer onthat foolish boy: he’ll be gone to Gimmerton, and he’ll stay therenow. He guesses we shouldn’t wait for him till this late hour: at least,he guesses that only Mr. Hindley would be up; and he’d rather avoidhaving 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 togitherfor gooid to them as is chozzen, and piked out fro’ th’ rubbidge!Yah knaw whet t’ Scripture ses.” And he began quoting severaltexts, 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, lefthim preaching and her shivering, and betook myself to bed with little Hareton,who slept as fast as if everyone had been sleeping round him. I heard Josephread 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 thechinks of the shutters, Miss Catherine still seated near the fireplace. Thehouse-door was ajar, too; light entered from its unclosed windows; Hindley hadcome out, and stood on the kitchen hearth, haggard and drowsy.

“What ails you, Cathy?” he was saying when I entered: “youlook as dismal as a drowned whelp. Why are you so damp and pale, child?”

“I’ve been wet,” she answered reluctantly, “andI’m cold, that’s all.”

“Oh, she is naughty!” I cried, perceiving the master to betolerably sober. “She got steeped in the shower of yesterday evening, andthere she has sat the night through, and I couldn’t prevail on her tostir.”

Mr. Earnshaw stared at us in surprise. “The night through,” herepeated. “What kept her up? not fear of the thunder, surely? That wasover hours since.”

Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff’s absence, as long as we couldconceal it; so I replied, I didn’t know how she took it into her head tosit up; and she said nothing. The morning was fresh and cool; I threw back thelattice, and presently the room filled with sweet scents from the garden; butCatherine called peevishly to me, “Ellen, shut the window. I’mstarving!” And her teeth chattered as she shrank closer to the almostextinguished embers.

“She’s ill,” said Hindley, taking her wrist; “I supposethat’s the reason she would not go to bed. Damn it! I don’t want tobe troubled with more sickness here. What took you into the rain?”

“Running after t’ lads, as usuald!” croaked Joseph, catchingan opportunity from our hesitation to thrust in his evil tongue. “If Iwar yah, maister, I’d just slam t’ boards i’ their faces allon ’em, gentle and simple! Never a day ut yah’re off, but yon cato’ Linton comes sneaking hither; and Miss Nelly, shoo’s a finelass! shoo sits watching for ye i’ t’ kitchen; and as yah’rein at one door, he’s out at t’other; and, then, wer grand lady goesa-courting of her side! It’s bonny behaviour, lurking amang t’fields, after twelve o’ t’ night, wi’ that fahl, flaysomedivil of a gipsy, Heathcliff! They think I’m blind; but I’mnoan: nowt ut t’ soart!—I seed young Linton boath coming and going,and I seed yah” (directing his discourse to me), “yah gooidfur 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 yourinsolence before me! Edgar Linton came yesterday by chance, Hindley; and it wasI who told him to be off: because I knew you would not like to have methim as you were.”

“You lie, Cathy, no doubt,” answered her brother, “and youare a confounded simpleton! But never mind Linton at present: tell me, were younot with Heathcliff last night? Speak the truth, now. You need not be afraid ofharming him: though I hate him as much as ever, he did me a good turn a shorttime since that will make my conscience tender of breaking his neck. To preventit, I shall send him about his business this very morning; and after he’sgone, I’d advise you all to look sharp: I shall only have the more humourfor you.”

“I never saw Heathcliff last night,” answered Catherine, beginningto sob bitterly: “and if you do turn him out of doors, I’ll go withhim. But, perhaps, you’ll never have an opportunity: perhaps, he’sgone.” Here she burst into uncontrollable grief, and the remainder of herwords were inarticulate.

Hindley lavished on her a torrent of scornful abuse, and bade her get to herroom immediately, or she shouldn’t cry for nothing! I obliged her toobey; and I shall never forget what a scene she acted when we reached herchamber: it terrified me. I thought she was going mad, and I begged Joseph torun for the doctor. It proved the commencement of delirium: Mr. Kenneth, assoon as he saw her, pronounced her dangerously ill; she had a fever. He bledher, and he told me to let her live on whey and water-gruel, and take care shedid not throw herself downstairs or out of the window; and then he left: for hehad enough to do in the parish, where two or three miles was the ordinarydistance between cottage and cottage.

Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master were nobetter, and though our patient was as wearisome and headstrong as a patientcould be, she weathered it through. Old Mrs. Linton paid us several visits, tobe sure, and set things to rights, and scolded and ordered us all; and whenCatherine was convalescent, she insisted on conveying her to ThrushcrossGrange: for which deliverance we were very grateful. But the poor dame hadreason to repent of her kindness: she and her husband both took the fever, anddied within a few days of each other.

Our young lady returned to us saucier and more passionate, and haughtier thanever. Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of thethunder-storm; and, one day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked meexceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her: where indeed itbelonged, as she well knew. From that period, for several months, she ceased tohold any communication with me, save in the relation of a mere servant. Josephfell under a ban also: he would speak his mind, and lecture her all thesame as if she were a little girl; and she esteemed herself a woman, and ourmistress, and thought that her recent illness gave her a claim to be treatedwith consideration. Then the doctor had said that she would not bear crossingmuch; she ought to have her own way; and it was nothing less than murder in hereyes for any one to presume to stand up and contradict her. From Mr. Earnshawand his companions she kept aloof; and tutored by Kenneth, and serious threatsof a fit that often attended her rages, her brother allowed her whatever shepleased to demand, and generally avoided aggravating her fiery temper. He wasrather too indulgent in humouring her caprices; not from affection, butfrom pride: he wished earnestly to see her bring honour to the family by analliance with the Lintons, and as long as she let him alone she might trampleon us like slaves, for aught he cared! Edgar Linton, as multitudes have beenbefore and will be after him, was infatuated: and believed himself the happiestman alive on the day he led her to Gimmerton Chapel, three years subsequent tohis father’s death.

Much against my inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights andaccompany her here. Little Hareton was nearly five years old, and I had justbegun to teach him his letters. We made a sad parting; but Catherine’stears were more powerful than ours. When I refused to go, and when she foundher 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: hewanted no women in the house, he said, now that there was no mistress; and asto Hareton, the curate should take him in hand, by-and-by. And so I had but onechoice left: to do as I was ordered. I told the master he got rid of all decentpeople only to run to ruin a little faster; I kissed Hareton, said good-by; andsince then he has been a stranger: and it’s very queer to think it, butI’ve no doubt he has completely forgotten all about Ellen Dean, and thathe 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 towardsthe time-piece over the chimney; and was in amazement on seeing the minute-handmeasure 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 nowthat 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 andlimbs.

CHAPTER X

A charming introduction to a hermit’s life! Four weeks’ torture,tossing, and sickness! Oh, these bleak winds and bitter northern skies, andimpassable roads, and dilatory country surgeons! And oh, this dearth of thehuman physiognomy! and, worse than all, the terrible intimation of Kenneth thatI need not expect to be out of doors till spring!

Mr. Heathcliff has just honoured me with a call. About seven days ago he sentme a brace of grouse—the last of the season. Scoundrel! He is notaltogether guiltless in this illness of mine; and that I had a great mind totell him. But, alas! how could I offend a man who was charitable enough to sitat my bedside a good hour, and talk on some other subject than pills anddraughts, blisters and leeches? This is quite an easy interval. I am too weakto read; yet I feel as if I could enjoy something interesting. Why not have upMrs. Dean to finish her tale? I can recollect its chief incidents, as far asshe had gone. Yes: I remember her hero had run off, and never been heard of forthree years; and the heroine was married. I’ll ring: she’ll bedelighted to find me capable of talking cheerfully. Mrs. Dean came.

“It wants twenty minutes, sir, to taking the medicine,” shecommenced.

“Away, away with it!” I replied; “I desire tohave—”

“The doctor says you must drop the powders.”

“With all my heart! Don’t interrupt me. Come and take your seathere. Keep your fingers from that bitter phalanx of vials. Draw your knittingout 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 hiseducation on the Continent, and come back a gentleman? or did he get asizar’s place at college, or escape to America, and earn honours bydrawing blood from his foster-country? or make a fortune more promptly on theEnglish highways?”

“He may have done a little in all these vocations, Mr. Lockwood; but Icouldn’t give my word for any. I stated before that I didn’t knowhow he gained his money; neither am I aware of the means he took to raise hismind 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 wearyyou. Are you feeling better this morning?”

“Much.”

“That’s good news.”

* * * * *

I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange; and, to my agreeabledisappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared to expect. Sheseemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton; and even to his sister she showed plentyof affection. They were both very attentive to her comfort, certainly. It wasnot the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing thethorn. There were no mutual concessions: one stood erect, and the othersyielded: and who can be ill-natured and bad-tempered when they encounterneither opposition nor indifference? I observed that Mr. Edgar had adeep-rooted fear of ruffling her humour. He concealed it from her; but if everhe heard me answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at someimperious order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasurethat never darkened on his own account. He many a time spoke sternly to meabout my pertness; and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict aworse pang than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed. Not to grieve a kindmaster, I learned to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a year, thegunpowder 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 respectedwith sympathising silence by her husband, who ascribed them to an alteration inher constitution, produced by her perilous illness; as she was never subject todepression of spirits before. The return of sunshine was welcomed by answeringsunshine from him. I believe I may assert that they were really in possessionof deep and growing happiness.

It ended. Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild andgenerous are only more justly selfish than the domineering; and it ended whencirc*mstances caused each to feel that the one’s interest was not thechief consideration in the other’s thoughts. On a mellow evening inSeptember, I was coming from the garden with a heavy basket of apples which Ihad been gathering. It had got dusk, and the moon looked over the high wall ofthe court, causing undefined shadows to lurk in the corners of the numerousprojecting portions of the building. I set my burden on the house-steps by thekitchen-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 hearda voice behind me say,—“Nelly, is that you?”

It was a deep voice, and foreign in tone; yet there was something in the mannerof pronouncing my name which made it sound familiar. I turned about to discoverwho spoke, fearfully; for the doors were shut, and I had seen nobody onapproaching the steps. Something stirred in the porch; and, moving nearer, Idistinguished a tall man dressed in dark clothes, with dark face and hair. Heleant against the side, and held his fingers on the latch as if intending toopen for himself. “Who can it be?” I thought. “Mr. Earnshaw?Oh, no! The voice has no resemblance to his.”

“I have waited here an hour,” he resumed, while I continuedstaring; “and the whole of that time all round has been as still asdeath. I dared not enter. You do not know me? Look, I’m not astranger!”

A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow, and half covered with blackwhiskers; the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular. I remembered theeyes.

“What!” I cried, uncertain whether to regard him as a worldlyvisitor, and I raised my hands in amazement. “What! you come back? Is itreally 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! youneedn’t be so disturbed. Is she here? Speak! I want to have one word withher—your mistress. Go, and say some person from Gimmerton desires to seeher.”

“How will she take it?” I exclaimed. “What will she do? Thesurprise bewilders me—it will put her out of her head! And you areHeathcliff! But altered! Nay, there’s no comprehending it. Have you beenfor 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. andMrs. Linton were, I could not persuade myself to proceed. At length I resolvedon making an excuse to ask if they would have the candles lighted, and I openedthe door.

They sat together in a window whose lattice lay back against the wall, anddisplayed, beyond the garden trees, and the wild green park, the valley ofGimmerton, with a long line of mist winding nearly to its top (for very soonafter you pass the chapel, as you may have noticed, the sough that runs fromthe marshes joins a beck which follows the bend of the glen). Wuthering Heightsrose above this silvery vapour; but our old house was invisible; it rather dipsdown on the other side. Both the room and its occupants, and the scene theygazed on, looked wondrously peaceful. I shrank reluctantly from performing myerrand; and was actually going away leaving it unsaid, after having put myquestion about the candles, when a sense of my folly compelled me to return,and mutter, “A person from Gimmerton wishes to see youma’am.”

“What does he want?” asked Mrs. Linton.

“I did not question him,” I answered.

“Well, close the curtains, Nelly,” she said; “and bring uptea. I’ll be back again directly.”

She quitted the apartment; Mr. Edgar inquired, carelessly, who it was.

“Some one mistress does not expect,” I replied. “ThatHeathcliff—you recollect him, sir—who used to live at Mr.Earnshaw’s.”

“What! the gipsy—the ploughboy?” he cried. “Why did younot 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 heartbrokenwhen 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 thecourt. He unfastened it, and leant out. I suppose they were below, for heexclaimed quickly: “Don’t stand there, love! Bring the person in,if it be anyone 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!” Andshe tightened her embrace to a squeeze.

“Well, well,” cried her husband, crossly, “don’tstrangle me for that! He never struck me as such a marvellous treasure. Thereis no need to be frantic!”

“I know you didn’t like him,” she answered, repressing alittle the intensity of her delight. “Yet, for my sake, you must befriends 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 athis 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, beinggentry; the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders. Willthat please you, dear? Or must I have a fire lighted elsewhere? If so, givedirections. I’ll run down and secure my guest. I’m afraid the joyis 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 notwitness the sight of your welcoming a runaway servant as a brother.”

I descended, and found Heathcliff waiting under the porch, evidentlyanticipating an invitation to enter. He followed my guidance without waste ofwords, and I ushered him into the presence of the master and mistress, whoseflushed cheeks betrayed signs of warm talking. But the lady’s glowed withanother feeling when her friend appeared at the door: she sprang forward, tookboth his hands, and led him to Linton; and then she seized Linton’sreluctant fingers and crushed them into his. Now, fully revealed by the fireand candlelight, I was amazed, more than ever, to behold the transformation ofHeathcliff. He had grown a tall, athletic, well-formed man; beside whom mymaster seemed quite slender and youth-like. His upright carriage suggested theidea of his having been in the army. His countenance was much older inexpression and decision of feature than Mr. Linton’s; it lookedintelligent, and retained no marks of former degradation. A half-civilisedferocity lurked yet in the depressed brows and eyes full of black fire, but itwas subdued; and his manner was even dignified: quite divested of roughness,though too stern for grace. My master’s surprise equalled or exceededmine: he remained for a minute at a loss how to address the ploughboy, as hehad called him. Heathcliff dropped his slight hand, and stood looking at himcoolly till he chose to speak.

“Sit down, sir,” he said, at length. “Mrs. Linton, recallingold times, would have me give you a cordial reception; and, of course, I amgratified when anything occurs to please her.”

“And I also,” answered Heathcliff, “especially if it beanything 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 shefeared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not raise his to heroften: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but it flashed back, each timemore confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers. They were toomuch absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarrassment. Not so Mr. Edgar: hegrew pale with pure annoyance: a feeling that reached its climax when his ladyrose, and stepping across the rug, seized Heathcliff’s hands again, andlaughed like one beside herself.

“I shall think it a dream to-morrow!” she cried. “I shall notbe 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 absentand silent for three years, and never to think of me!”

“A little more than you have thought of me,” he murmured. “Iheard of your marriage, Cathy, not long since; and, while waiting in the yardbelow, I meditated this plan—just to have one glimpse of your face, astare of surprise, perhaps, and pretended pleasure; afterwards settle my scorewith Hindley; and then prevent the law by doing execution on myself. Yourwelcome has put these ideas out of my mind; but beware of meeting me withanother aspect next time! Nay, you’ll not drive me off again. You werereally sorry for me, were you? Well, there was cause. I’ve fought througha bitter life since I last heard your voice; and you must forgive me, for Istruggled only for you!”

“Catherine, unless we are to have cold tea, please to come to thetable,” interrupted Linton, striving to preserve his ordinary tone, and adue 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 hardlyendured ten minutes. Catherine’s cup was never filled: she could neithereat nor drink. Edgar had made a slop in his saucer, and scarcely swallowed amouthful. Their guest did not protract his stay that evening above an hourlonger. I asked, as he departed, if he went to Gimmerton?

“No, to Wuthering Heights,” he answered: “Mr. Earnshawinvited me, when I called this morning.”

Mr. Earnshaw invited him! and he called on Mr. Earnshaw! Ipondered this sentence painfully, after he was gone. Is he turning out a bit ofa hypocrite, and coming into the country to work mischief under a cloak? Imused: I had a presentiment in the bottom of my heart that he had better haveremained away.

About the middle of the night, I was wakened from my first nap by Mrs. Lintongliding into my chamber, taking a seat on my bedside, and pulling me by thehair to rouse me.

“I cannot rest, Ellen,” she said, by way of apology. “And Iwant 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 toopen his mouth, except to utter pettish, silly speeches; and he affirmed I wascruel and selfish for wishing to talk when he was so sick and sleepy. He alwayscontrives to be sick at the least cross! I gave a few sentences of commendationto 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. “Aslads they had an aversion to each other, and Heathcliff would hate just as muchto 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 ofIsabella’s yellow hair and the whiteness of her skin, at her daintyelegance, and the fondness all the family exhibit for her. Even you, Nelly, ifwe have a dispute sometimes, you back Isabella at once; and I yield like afoolish mother: I call her a darling, and flatter her into a good temper. Itpleases her brother to see us cordial, and that pleases me. But they are verymuch alike: they are spoiled children, and fancy the world was made for theiraccommodation; and though I humour both, I think a smart chastisem*nt mightimprove them all the same.”

“You’re mistaken, Mrs. Linton,” said I. “They humouryou: I know what there would be to do if they did not. You can well afford toindulge their passing whims as long as their business is to anticipate all yourdesires. You may, however, fall out, at last, over something of equalconsequence to both sides; and then those you term weak are very capable ofbeing as obstinate as you.”

“And then we shall fight to the death, sha’n’t we,Nelly?” she returned, laughing. “No! I tell you, I have such faithin Linton’s love, that I believe I might kill him, and he wouldn’twish to retaliate.”

I advised her to value him the more for his affection.

“I do,” she answered, “but he needn’t resort to whiningfor trifles. It is childish; and, instead of melting into tears because I saidthat Heathcliff was now worthy of anyone’s regard, and it would honourthe first gentleman in the country to be his friend, he ought to have said itfor me, and been delighted from sympathy. He must get accustomed to him, and hemay as well like him: considering how Heathcliff has reason to object to him,I’m sure he behaved excellently!”

“What do you think of his going to Wuthering Heights?” I inquired.“He is reformed in every respect, apparently: quite a Christian: offeringthe right hand of fellowship to his enemies all around!”

“He explained it,” she replied. “I wonder as much as you. Hesaid he called to gather information concerning me from you, supposing youresided there still; and Joseph told Hindley, who came out and fell toquestioning him of what he had been doing, and how he had been living; andfinally, desired him to walk in. There were some persons sitting at cards;Heathcliff joined them; my brother lost some money to him, and, finding himplentifully supplied, he requested that he would come again in the evening: towhich he consented. Hindley is too reckless to select his acquaintanceprudently: he doesn’t trouble himself to reflect on the causes he mighthave for mistrusting one whom he has basely injured. But Heathcliff affirms hisprincipal reason for resuming a connection with his ancient persecutor is awish to install himself in quarters at walking distance from the Grange, and anattachment to the house where we lived together; and likewise a hope that Ishall have more opportunities of seeing him there than I could have if hesettled in Gimmerton. He means to offer liberal payment for permission to lodgeat the Heights; and doubtless my brother’s covetousness will prompt himto accept the terms: he was always greedy; though what he grasps with one handhe 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 keephim from danger; a little for Hindley: but he can’t be made morally worsethan he is; and I stand between him and bodily harm. The event of this eveninghas reconciled me to God and humanity! I had risen in angry rebellion againstProvidence. Oh, I’ve endured very, very bitter misery, Nelly! If thatcreature knew how bitter, he’d be ashamed to cloud its removal with idlepetulance. It was kindness for him which induced me to bear it alone: had Iexpressed the agony I frequently felt, he would have been taught to long forits alleviation as ardently as I. However, it’s over, and I’ll takeno revenge on his folly; I can afford to suffer anything hereafter! Should themeanest 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 makemy peace with Edgar instantly. Good-night! I’m an angel!”

In this self-complacent conviction she departed; and the success of herfulfilled resolution was obvious on the morrow: Mr. Linton had not only abjuredhis peevishness (though his spirits seemed still subdued by Catherine’sexuberance of vivacity), but he ventured no objection to her taking Isabellawith her to Wuthering Heights in the afternoon; and she rewarded him with sucha summer of sweetness and affection in return as made the house a paradise forseveral days; both master and servants profiting from the perpetual sunshine.

Heathcliff—Mr. Heathcliff I should say in future—used the libertyof visiting at Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first: he seemed estimatinghow far its owner would bear his intrusion. Catherine, also, deemed itjudicious to moderate her expressions of pleasure in receiving him; and hegradually established his right to be expected. He retained a great deal of thereserve for which his boyhood was remarkable; and that served to repress allstartling demonstrations of feeling. My master’s uneasiness experienced alull, and further circ*mstances diverted it into another channel for a space.

His new source of trouble sprang from the not anticipated misfortune ofIsabella Linton evincing a sudden and irresistible attraction towards thetolerated guest. She was at that time a charming young lady of eighteen;infantile in manners, though possessed of keen wit, keen feelings, and a keentemper, too, if irritated. Her brother, who loved her tenderly, was appalled atthis fantastic preference. Leaving aside the degradation of an alliance with anameless man, and the possible fact that his property, in default of heirsmale, might pass into such a one’s power, he had sense to comprehendHeathcliff’s disposition: to know that, though his exterior was altered,his mind was unchangeable and unchanged. And he dreaded that mind: it revoltedhim: he shrank forebodingly from the idea of committing Isabella to itskeeping. He would have recoiled still more had he been aware that herattachment rose unsolicited, and was bestowed where it awakened noreciprocation of sentiment; for the minute he discovered its existence he laidthe blame on Heathcliff’s deliberate designing.

We had all remarked, during some time, that Miss Linton fretted and pined oversomething. She grew cross and wearisome; snapping at and teasing Catherinecontinually, at the imminent risk of exhausting her limited patience. Weexcused her, to a certain extent, on the plea of ill-health: she was dwindlingand 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 toldthem; that the mistress would allow her to be nothing in the house, and Edgarneglected her; that she had caught a cold with the doors being left open, andwe let the parlour fire go out on purpose to vex her, with a hundred yet morefrivolous accusations, Mrs. Linton peremptorily insisted that she should get tobed; and, having scolded her heartily, threatened to send for the doctor.Mention of Kenneth caused her to exclaim, instantly, that her health wasperfect, and it was only Catherine’s harshness which made her unhappy.

“How can you say I am harsh, you naughty fondling?” cried themistress, amazed at the unreasonable assertion. “You are surely losingyour reason. When have I been harsh, tell me?”

“Yesterday,” sobbed Isabella, “and now!”

“Yesterday!” said her sister-in-law. “On whatoccasion?”

“In our walk along the moor: you told me to ramble where I pleased, whileyou sauntered on with Mr. Heathcliff!”

“And that’s your notion of harshness?” said Catherine,laughing. “It was no hint that your company was superfluous; wedidn’t care whether you kept with us or not; I merely thoughtHeathcliff’s talk would have nothing entertaining for your ears.”

“Oh, no,” wept the young lady; “you wished me away, becauseyou 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 youpoint out any charm it could have had for you.”

“I don’t mind the conversation,” she answered: “Iwanted to be with—”

“Well?” said Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete thesentence.

“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 beloved but yourself!”

“You are an impertinent little monkey!” exclaimed Mrs. Linton, insurprise. “But I’ll not believe this idiocy! It is impossible thatyou can covet the admiration of Heathcliff—that you consider him anagreeable person! I hope I have misunderstood you, Isabella?”

“No, you have not,” said the infatuated girl. “I love himmore than ever you loved Edgar, and he might love me, if you would lethim!”

“I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom, then!” Catherine declared,emphatically: and she seemed to speak sincerely. “Nelly, help me toconvince her of her madness. Tell her what Heathcliff is: an unreclaimedcreature, without refinement, without cultivation; an arid wilderness of furzeand whinstone. I’d as soon put that little canary into the park on awinter’s day, as recommend you to bestow your heart on him! It isdeplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which makesthat dream enter your head. Pray, don’t imagine that he conceals depthsof benevolence and affection beneath a stern exterior! He’s not a roughdiamond—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, ‘Letthem alone, because I should hate them to be wronged:’ andhe’d crush you like a sparrow’s egg, Isabella, if he found you atroublesome charge. I know he couldn’t love a Linton; and yet he’dbe quite capable of marrying your fortune and expectations: avarice is growingwith him a besetting sin. There’s my picture: and I’m hisfriend—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 worsethan twenty foes, you poisonous friend!”

“Ah! you won’t believe me, then?” said Catherine. “Youthink I speak from wicked selfishness?”

“I’m certain you do,” retorted Isabella; “and I shudderat you!”

“Good!” cried the other. “Try for yourself, if that be yourspirit: I have done, and yield the argument to your saucyinsolence.”—

“And I must suffer for her egotism!” she sobbed, as Mrs. Lintonleft the room. “All, all is against me: she has blighted my singleconsolation. But she uttered falsehoods, didn’t she? Mr. Heathcliff isnot a fiend: he has an honourable soul, and a true one, or how could heremember her?”

“Banish him from your thoughts, Miss,” I said. “He’s abird of bad omen: no mate for you. Mrs. Linton spoke strongly, and yet Ican’t contradict her. She is better acquainted with his heart than I, orany one besides; and she never would represent him as worse than he is. Honestpeople don’t hide their deeds. How has he been living? how has he gotrich? why is he staying at Wuthering Heights, the house of a man whom heabhors? They say Mr. Earnshaw is worse and worse since he came. They sit up allnight 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 wasJoseph who told me—I met him at Gimmerton: ‘Nelly,’ he said,‘we’s hae a crowner’s ’quest enow, at ahr folks’.One on ’em ’s a’most getten his finger cut off wi’hauding t’ other fro’ stickin’ hisseln loike a cawlf.That’s maister, yah knaw, ’at ’s soa up o’ going tuht’ grand ’sizes. He’s noan feared o’ t’ bencho’ 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 sun-down: 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 dacentfowks dig thur fingers i’ thur lugs fur varry shame; un’ the knave,why he can caint his brass, un’ ate, un’ sleep, un’ off tohis neighbour’s to gossip wi’ t’ wife. I’ course, hetells Dame Catherine how her fathur’s goold runs into his pocket, and herfathur’s son gallops down t’ broad road, while he flees afore tooppen t’ pikes!’ Now, Miss Linton, Joseph is an old rascal, but noliar; and, if his account of Heathcliff’s conduct be true, you wouldnever 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 haveto 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 innursing it perpetually, I cannot say: she had little time to reflect. The dayafter, there was a justice-meeting at the next town; my master was obliged toattend; and Mr. Heathcliff, aware of his absence, called rather earlier thanusual. Catherine and Isabella were sitting in the library, on hostile terms,but silent: the latter alarmed at her recent indiscretion, and the disclosureshe had made of her secret feelings in a transient fit of passion; the former,on mature consideration, really offended with her companion; and, if shelaughed again at her pertness, inclined to make it no laughing matter toher. She did laugh as she saw Heathcliff pass the window. I was sweepingthe hearth, and I noticed a mischievous smile on her lips. Isabella, absorbedin her meditations, or a book, remained till the door opened; and it was toolate to attempt an escape, which she would gladly have done had it beenpracticable.

“Come in, that’s right!” exclaimed the mistress, gaily,pulling a chair to the fire. “Here are two people sadly in need of athird to thaw the ice between them; and you are the very one we should both ofus choose. Heathcliff, I’m proud to show you, at last, somebody thatdotes on you more than myself. I expect you to feel flattered. Nay, it’snot Nelly; don’t look at her! My poor little sister-in-law is breakingher heart by mere contemplation of your physical and moral beauty. It lies inyour own power to be Edgar’s brother! No, no, Isabella, yousha’n’t run off,” she continued, arresting, with feignedplayfulness, the confounded girl, who had risen indignantly. “We werequarrelling like cats about you, Heathcliff; and I was fairly beaten inprotestations of devotion and admiration: and, moreover, I was informed that ifI would but have the manners to stand aside, my rival, as she will have herselfto be, would shoot a shaft into your soul that would fix you for ever, and sendmy image into eternal oblivion!”

“Catherine!” said Isabella, calling up her dignity, and disdainingto struggle from the tight grasp that held her, “I’d thank you toadhere to the truth and not slander me, even in joke! Mr. Heathcliff, be kindenough to bid this friend of yours release me: she forgets that you and I arenot intimate acquaintances; and what amuses her is painful to me beyondexpression.”

As the guest answered nothing, but took his seat, and looked thoroughlyindifferent what sentiments she cherished concerning him, she turned andwhispered an earnest appeal for liberty to her tormentor.

“By no means!” cried Mrs. Linton in answer. “I won’t benamed a dog in the manger again. You shall stay: now then! Heathcliff,why don’t you evince satisfaction at my pleasant news? Isabella swearsthat 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 shehas fasted ever since the day before yesterday’s walk, from sorrow andrage that I despatched her out of your society under the idea of its beingunacceptable.”

“I think you belie her,” said Heathcliff, twisting his chair toface 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 strangerepulsive animal: a centipede from the Indies, for instance, which curiosityleads one to examine in spite of the aversion it raises. The poor thingcouldn’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 loosenthe firm clutch of Catherine; and perceiving that as fast as she raised onefinger off her arm another closed down, and she could not remove the wholetogether, she began to make use of her nails; and their sharpness presentlyornamented 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 hideyour vixen face! How foolish to reveal those talons to him. Can’tyou fancy the conclusions he’ll draw? Look, Heathcliff! they areinstruments 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 didyou mean by teasing the creature in that manner, Cathy? You were not speakingthe truth, were you?”

“I assure you I was,” she returned. “She has been dying foryour sake several weeks, and raving about you this morning, and pouring forth adeluge of abuse, because I represented your failings in a plain light, for thepurpose of mitigating her adoration. But don’t notice it further: Iwished to punish her sauciness, that’s all. I like her too well, my dearHeathcliff, to let you absolutely seize and devour her up.”

“And I like her too ill to attempt it,” said he, “except in avery ghoulish fashion. You’d hear of odd things if I lived alone withthat mawkish, waxen face: the most ordinary would be painting on its white thecolours of the rainbow, and turning the blue eyes black, every day or two: theydetestably resemble Linton’s.”

“Delectably!” observed Catherine. “They are dove’seyes—angel’s!”

“She’s her brother’s heir, is she not?” he asked, aftera brief silence.

“I should be sorry to think so,” returned his companion.“Half a dozen nephews shall erase her title, please heaven! Abstract yourmind from the subject at present: you are too prone to covet yourneighbour’s goods; remember this neighbour’s goods aremine.”

“If they were mine, they would be none the less that,” saidHeathcliff; “but though Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcelymad; and, in short, we’ll dismiss the matter, as you advise.”

From their tongues they did dismiss it; and Catherine, probably, from herthoughts. The other, I felt certain, recalled it often in the course of theevening. I saw him smile to himself—grin rather—and lapse intoominous musing whenever Mrs. Linton had occasion to be absent from theapartment.

I determined to watch his movements. My heart invariably cleaved to themaster’s, in preference to Catherine’s side: with reason Iimagined, for he was kind, and trustful, and honourable; and she—shecould not be called the opposite, yet she seemed to allow herself suchwide latitude, that I had little faith in her principles, and still lesssympathy for her feelings. I wanted something to happen which might have theeffect of freeing both Wuthering Heights and the Grange of Mr. Heathcliff,quietly; leaving us as we had been prior to his advent. His visits were acontinual nightmare to me; and, I suspected, to my master also. His abode atthe Heights was an oppression past explaining. I felt that God had forsaken thestray sheep there to its own wicked wanderings, and an evil beast prowledbetween it and the fold, waiting his time to spring and destroy.

CHAPTER XI

Sometimes, while meditating on these things in solitude, I’ve got up in asudden 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 peopletalked regarding his ways; and then I’ve recollected his confirmed badhabits, and, hopeless of benefiting him, have flinched from re-entering thedismal 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 frostyafternoon; the ground bare, and the road hard and dry. I came to a stone wherethe 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 thesouth-west, T. G. It serves as a guide-post to the Grange, the Heights, andvillage. The sun shone yellow on its grey head, reminding me of summer; and Icannot say why, but all at once a gush of child’s sensations flowed intomy heart. Hindley and I held it a favourite spot twenty years before. I gazedlong at the weather-worn block; and, stooping down, perceived a hole near thebottom still full of snail-shells and pebbles, which we were fond of storingthere with more perishable things; and, as fresh as reality, it appeared that Ibeheld my early playmate seated on the withered turf: his dark, square headbent forward, and his little hand scooping out the earth with a piece of slate.“Poor Hindley!” I exclaimed, involuntarily. I started: my bodilyeye was cheated into a momentary belief that the child lifted its face andstared straight into mine! It vanished in a twinkling; but immediately I feltan irresistible yearning to be at the Heights. Superstition urged me to complywith this impulse: supposing he should be dead! I thought—or should diesoon!—supposing it were a sign of death! The nearer I got to the housethe 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 wasmy first idea on observing an elf-locked, brown-eyed boy setting his ruddycountenance against the bars. Further reflection suggested this must beHareton, my Hareton, not altered greatly since I left him, ten monthssince.

“God bless thee, darling!” I cried, forgetting instantaneously myfoolish 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 theaction that Nelly, if she lived in his memory at all, was not recognised as onewith me.

He raised his missile to hurl it; I commenced a soothing speech, but could notstay his hand: the stone struck my bonnet; and then ensued, from the stammeringlips of the little fellow, a string of curses, which, whether he comprehendedthem or not, were delivered with practised emphasis, and distorted his babyfeatures into a shocking expression of malignity. You may be certain thisgrieved more than angered me. Fit to cry, I took an orange from my pocket, andoffered it to propitiate him. He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold;as if he fancied I only intended to tempt and disappoint him. I showed another,keeping it out of his reach.

“Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?” I inquired.“The curate?”

“Damn the curate, and thee! Gie me that,” he replied.

“Tell us where you got your lessons, and you shall have it,” saidI. “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 teachyou?” I asked.

“Naught,” said he, “but to keep out of his gait. Daddy cannotbide me, because I swear at him.”

“Ah! and the devil teaches you to swear at daddy?” I observed.

“Ay—nay,” he drawled.

“Who, then?”

“Heathcliff.”

“I asked if he liked Mr. Heathcliff.”

“Ay!” he answered again.

Desiring to have his reasons for liking him, I could only gather thesentences—“I known’t: he pays dad back what he gies tome—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?” Ipursued.

“No, I was told the curate should have his —— teeth dasheddown his —— throat, if he stepped over thethreshold—Heathcliff had promised that!”

I put the orange in his hand, and bade him tell his father that a woman calledNelly Dean was waiting to speak with him, by the garden gate. He went up thewalk, and entered the house; but, instead of Hindley, Heathcliff appeared onthe door-stones; and I turned directly and ran down the road as hard as ever Icould race, making no halt till I gained the guide-post, and feeling as scaredas if I had raised a goblin. This is not much connected with MissIsabella’s affair: except that it urged me to resolve further on mountingvigilant guard, and doing my utmost to check the spread of such bad influenceat 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 pigeonsin 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 greatcomfort. Heathcliff had not the habit of bestowing a single unnecessarycivility on Miss Linton, I knew. Now, as soon as he beheld her, his firstprecaution was to take a sweeping survey of the house-front. I was standing bythe kitchen-window, but I drew out of sight. He then stepped across thepavement to her, and said something: she seemed embarrassed, and desirous ofgetting 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 wasanother rapid glance at the house, and supposing himself unseen, the scoundrelhad the impudence to embrace her.

“Judas! Traitor!” I ejacul*ted. “You are a hypocrite, too,are you? A deliberate deceiver.”

“Who is, Nelly?” said Catherine’s voice at my elbow: I hadbeen over-intent on watching the pair outside to mark her entrance.

“Your worthless friend!” I answered, warmly: “the sneakingrascal yonder. Ah, he has caught a glimpse of us—he is coming in! Iwonder will he have the heart to find a plausible excuse for making love toMiss, when he told you he hated her?”

Mrs. Linton saw Isabella tear herself free, and run into the garden; and aminute after, Heathcliff opened the door. I couldn’t withhold giving someloose to my indignation; but Catherine angrily insisted on silence, andthreatened to order me out of the kitchen, if I dared to be so presumptuous asto 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 youabout, raising this stir? I said you must let Isabella alone!—I beg youwill, unless you are tired of being received here, and wish Linton to draw thebolts against you!”

“God forbid that he should try!” answered the black villain. Idetested him just then. “God keep him meek and patient! Every day I growmadder after sending him to heaven!”

“Hush!” said Catherine, shutting the inner door. “Don’tvex me. Why have you disregarded my request? Did she come across you onpurpose?”

“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 sha’n’tscowl 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 certainyou don’t.”

“And would Mr. Linton approve of his sister marrying that man?” Iinquired.

“Mr. Linton should approve,” returned my lady, decisively.

“He might spare himself the trouble,” said Heathcliff: “Icould do as well without his approbation. And as to you, Catherine, I have amind to speak a few words now, while we are at it. I want you to be aware thatI know you have treated me infernally—infernally! Do you hear? Andif you flatter yourself that I don’t perceive it, you are a fool; and ifyou think I can be consoled by sweet words, you are an idiot: and if you fancyI’ll suffer unrevenged, I’ll convince you of the contrary, in avery little while! Meantime, thank you for telling me yoursister-in-law’s secret: I swear I’ll make the most of it. And standyou aside!”

“What new phase of his character is this?” exclaimed Mrs. Linton,in amazement. “I’ve treated you infernally—and you’lltake your revenge! How will you take it, ungrateful brute? How have I treatedyou infernally?”

“I seek no revenge on you,” replied Heathcliff, less vehemently.“That’s not the plan. The tyrant grinds down his slaves and theydon’t turn against him; they crush those beneath them. You are welcome totorture me to death for your amusem*nt, only allow me to amuse myself a littlein the same style, and refrain from insult as much as you are able. Havinglevelled my palace, don’t erect a hovel and complacently admire your owncharity in giving me that for a home. If I imagined you really wished me tomarry Isabel, I’d cut my throat!”

“Oh, the evil is that I am not jealous, is it?” criedCatherine. “Well, I won’t repeat my offer of a wife: it is as badas 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 yourcoming; I begin to be secure and tranquil; and you, restless to know us atpeace, appear resolved on exciting a quarrel. Quarrel with Edgar, if youplease, Heathcliff, and deceive his sister: you’ll hit on exactly themost 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 norcontrol it. He stood on the hearth with folded arms, brooding on his evilthoughts; and in this position I left them to seek the master, who waswondering what kept Catherine below so long.

“Ellen,” said he, when I entered, “have you seen yourmistress?”

“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 tothis—.” And I related the scene in the court, and, as near as Idared, the whole subsequent dispute. I fancied it could not be very prejudicialto Mrs. Linton; unless she made it so afterwards, by assuming the defensive forher guest. Edgar Linton had difficulty in hearing me to the close. His firstwords revealed that he did not clear his wife of blame.

“This is insufferable!” he exclaimed. “It is disgraceful thatshe should own him for a friend, and force his company on me! Call me two menout of the hall, Ellen. Catherine shall linger no longer to argue with the lowruffian—I have humoured her enough.”

He descended, and bidding the servants wait in the passage, went, followed byme, to the kitchen. Its occupants had recommenced their angry discussion: Mrs.Linton, at least, was scolding with renewed vigour; Heathcliff had moved to thewindow, and hung his head, somewhat cowed by her violent rating apparently. Hesaw the master first, and made a hasty motion that she should be silent; whichshe obeyed, abruptly, on discovering the reason of his intimation.

“How is this?” said Linton, addressing her; “what notion ofpropriety must you have to remain here, after the language which has been heldto you by that blackguard? I suppose, because it is his ordinary talk you thinknothing of it: you are habituated to his baseness, and, perhaps, imagine I canget 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 bothcarelessness and contempt of his irritation. Heathcliff, who had raised hiseyes at the former speech, gave a sneering laugh at the latter; on purpose, itseemed, to draw Mr. Linton’s attention to him. He succeeded; but Edgardid not mean to entertain him with any high flights of passion.

“I’ve been so far forbearing with you, sir,” he said quietly;“not that I was ignorant of your miserable, degraded character, but Ifelt you were only partly responsible for that; and Catherine wishing to keepup your acquaintance, I acquiesced—foolishly. Your presence is a moralpoison that would contaminate the most virtuous: for that cause, and to preventworse consequences, I shall deny you hereafter admission into this house, andgive 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 ofderision.

“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 hadno intention of hazarding a personal encounter. I obeyed the hint; but Mrs.Linton, suspecting something, followed; and when I attempted to call them, shepulled me back, slammed the door to, and locked it.

“Fair means!” she said, in answer to her husband’s look ofangry 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 valourthan you possess. No, I’ll swallow the key before you shall get it!I’m delightfully rewarded for my kindness to each! After constantindulgence of one’s weak nature, and the other’s bad one, I earnfor thanks two samples of blind ingratitude, stupid to absurdity! Edgar, I wasdefending you and yours; and I wish Heathcliff may flog you sick, for daring tothink 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 sheflung it into the hottest part of the fire; whereupon Mr. Edgar was taken witha nervous trembling, and his countenance grew deadly pale. For his life hecould not avert that excess of emotion: mingled anguish and humiliationovercame him completely. He leant on the back of a chair, and covered his face.

“Oh, heavens! In old days this would win you knighthood!” exclaimedMrs. Linton. “We are vanquished! we are vanquished! Heathcliff would assoon lift a finger at you as the king would march his army against a colony ofmice. Cheer up! you sha’n’t be hurt! Your type is not a lamb,it’s a sucking leveret.”

“I wish you joy of the milk-blooded coward, Cathy!” said herfriend. “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, butI’d kick him with my foot, and experience considerable satisfaction. Ishe 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, andstruck 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 bythe 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 andhalf-a-dozen assistants. If he did overhear us, of course he’d neverforgive you. You’ve played me an ill turn, Heathcliff! But go—makehaste! I’d rather see Edgar at bay than you.”

“Do you suppose I’m going with that blow burning in mygullet?” he thundered. “By hell, no! I’ll crush his ribs inlike a rotten hazel-nut before I cross the threshold! If I don’t floorhim now, I shall murder him some time; so, as you value his existence, let meget at him!”

“He is not coming,” I interposed, framing a bit of a lie.“There’s the coachman and the two gardeners; you’ll surelynot wait to be thrust into the road by them! Each has a bludgeon; and masterwill, very likely, be watching from the parlour-windows to see that they fulfilhis orders.”

The gardeners and coachman were there: but Linton was with them. Theyhad already entered the court. Heathcliff, on the second thoughts, resolved toavoid a struggle against three underlings: he seized the poker, smashed thelock from the inner door, and made his escape as they tramped in.

Mrs. Linton, who was very much excited, bade me accompany her upstairs. She didnot know my share in contributing to the disturbance, and I was anxious to keepher in ignorance.

“I’m nearly distracted, Nelly!” she exclaimed, throwingherself on the sofa. “A thousand smiths’ hammers are beating in myhead! Tell Isabella to shun me; this uproar is owing to her; and should she orany one else aggravate my anger at present, I shall get wild. And, Nelly, sayto Edgar, if you see him again to-night, that I’m in danger of beingseriously ill. I wish it may prove true. He has startled and distressed meshockingly! I want to frighten him. Besides, he might come and begin a stringof abuse or complainings; I’m certain I should recriminate, and God knowswhere we should end! Will you do so, my good Nelly? You are aware that I am noway blamable in this matter. What possessed him to turn listener?Heathcliff’s talk was outrageous, after you left us; but I could soonhave diverted him from Isabella, and the rest meant nothing. Now all is dashedwrong; by the fool’s craving to hear evil of self, that haunts somepeople like a demon! Had Edgar never gathered our conversation, he would neverhave been the worse for it. Really, when he opened on me in that unreasonabletone of displeasure after I had scolded Heathcliff till I was hoarse forhim; I did not care hardly what they did to each other; especially as Ifelt that, however the scene closed, we should all be driven asunder for nobodyknows how long! Well, if I cannot keep Heathcliff for my friend—if Edgarwill be mean and jealous, I’ll try to break their hearts by breaking myown. 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 takeLinton by surprise with it. To this point he has been discreet in dreading toprovoke me; you must represent the peril of quitting that policy, and remindhim of my passionate temper, verging, when kindled, on frenzy. I wish you coulddismiss that apathy out of that countenance, and look rather more anxious aboutme.”

The stolidity with which I received these instructions was, no doubt, ratherexasperating: for they were delivered in perfect sincerity; but I believed aperson 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 ofserving her selfishness. Therefore I said nothing when I met the master comingtowards the parlour; but I took the liberty of turning back to listen whetherthey would resume their quarrel together. He began to speak first.

“Remain where you are, Catherine,” he said; without any anger inhis voice, but with much sorrowful despondency. “I shall not stay. I amneither come to wrangle nor be reconciled; but I wish just to learn whether,after this evening’s events, you intend to continue your intimacywith—”

“Oh, for mercy’s sake,” interrupted the mistress, stampingher foot, “for mercy’s sake, let us hear no more of it now! Yourcold blood cannot be worked into a fever: your veins are full of ice-water; butmine 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 havefound that you can be as stoical as anyone, when you please. Will you give upHeathcliff hereafter, or will you give up me? It is impossible for you to bemy friend and his at the same time; and I absolutelyrequire 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 wasenough to try the temper of a saint, such senseless, wicked rages! There shelay dashing her head against the arm of the sofa, and grinding her teeth, sothat you might fancy she would crash them to splinters! Mr. Linton stoodlooking 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 notdrink, I sprinkled it on her face. In a few seconds she stretched herself outstiff, 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 notwant 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 hadresolved, previous to his coming, on exhibiting a fit of frenzy. I incautiouslygave the account aloud, and she heard me; for she started up—her hairflying over her shoulders, her eyes flashing, the muscles of her neck and armsstanding out preternaturally. I made up my mind for broken bones, at least; butshe only glared about her for an instant, and then rushed from the room. Themaster directed me to follow; I did, to her chamber-door: she hindered me fromgoing further by securing it against me.

As she never offered to descend to breakfast next morning, I went to askwhether she would have some carried up. “No!” she replied,peremptorily. The same question was repeated at dinner and tea; and again onthe morrow after, and received the same answer. Mr. Linton, on his part, spenthis time in the library, and did not inquire concerning his wife’soccupations. Isabella and he had had an hour’s interview, during which hetried to elicit from her some sentiment of proper horror for Heathcliff’sadvances: but he could make nothing of her evasive replies, and was obliged toclose the examination unsatisfactorily; adding, however, a solemn warning, thatif she were so insane as to encourage that worthless suitor, it would dissolveall bonds of relationship between herself and him.

CHAPTER XII

While Miss Linton moped about the park and garden, always silent, and almostalways in tears; and her brother shut himself up among books that he neveropened—wearying, I guessed, with a continual vague expectation thatCatherine, repenting her conduct, would come of her own accord to ask pardon,and seek a reconciliation—and she fasted pertinaciously, under theidea, 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 aboutmy household duties, convinced that the Grange had but one sensible soul in itswalls, and that lodged in my body. I wasted no condolences on Miss, nor anyexpostulations on my mistress; nor did I pay much attention to the sighs of mymaster, who yearned to hear his lady’s name, since he might not hear hervoice. I determined they should come about as they pleased for me; and thoughit was a tiresomely slow process, I began to rejoice at length in a faint dawnof its progress: as I thought at first.

Mrs. Linton, on the third day, unbarred her door, and having finished the waterin 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 forEdgar’s ears; I believed no such thing, so I kept it to myself andbrought her some tea and dry toast. She ate and drank eagerly, and sank back onher pillow again, clenching her hands and groaning. “Oh, I willdie,” she exclaimed, “since no one cares anything about me. I wishI 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 loveme at all—he would never miss me!”

“Did you want anything, ma’am?” I inquired, still preservingmy external composure, in spite of her ghastly countenance and strange,exaggerated manner.

“What is that apathetic being doing?” she demanded, pushing thethick entangled locks from her wasted face. “Has he fallen into alethargy, or is he dead?”

“Neither,” replied I; “if you mean Mr. Linton. He’stolerably well, I think, though his studies occupy him rather more than theyought: 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 notget rid of the notion that she acted a part of her disorder.

“Among his books!” she cried, confounded. “And I dying! I onthe brink of the grave! My God! does he know how I’m altered?”continued she, staring at her reflection in a mirror hanging against theopposite wall. “Is that Catherine Linton? He imagines me in apet—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’llchoose between these two: either to starve at once—that would be nopunishment 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 utterlyindifferent for my life?”

“Why, ma’am,” I answered, “the master has no idea ofyour being deranged; and of course he does not fear that you will let yourselfdie 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 haveeaten some food with a relish this evening, and to-morrow you will perceive itsgood effects.”

“If I were only sure it would kill him,” she interrupted,“I’d kill myself directly! These three awful nights I’venever closed my lids—and oh, I’ve been tormented! I’ve beenhaunted, Nelly! But I begin to fancy you don’t like me. How strange! Ithought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoidloving me. And they have all turned to enemies in a few hours. Theyhave, I’m positive; the people here. How dreary to meet death,surrounded by their cold faces! Isabella, terrified and repelled, afraid toenter the room, it would be so dreadful to watch Catherine go. And Edgarstanding solemnly by to see it over; then offering prayers of thanks to God forrestoring peace to his house, and going back to his books! What in thename 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 herfeverish bewilderment to madness, and tore the pillow with her teeth; thenraising herself up all burning, desired that I would open the window. We werein the middle of winter, the wind blew strong from the north-east, and Iobjected. Both the expressions flitting over her face, and the changes of hermoods, began to alarm me terribly; and brought to my recollection her formerillness, and the doctor’s injunction that she should not be crossed. Aminute previously she was violent; now, supported on one arm, and not noticingmy refusal to obey her, she seemed to find childish diversion in pulling thefeathers from the rents she had just made, and ranging them on the sheetaccording to their different species: her mind had strayed to otherassociations.

“That’s a turkey’s,” she murmured to herself;“and this is a wild duck’s; and this is a pigeon’s. Ah, theyput pigeons’ feathers in the pillows—no wonder I couldn’tdie! Let me take care to throw it on the floor when I lie down. And here is amoor-co*ck’s; and this—I should know it among athousand—it’s a lapwing’s. Bonny bird; wheeling over ourheads in the middle of the moor. It wanted to get to its nest, for the cloudshad touched the swells, and it felt rain coming. This feather was picked upfrom the heath, the bird was not shot: we saw its nest in the winter, full oflittle skeletons. Heathcliff set a trap over it, and the old ones dared notcome. I made him promise he’d never shoot a lapwing after that, and hedidn’t. Yes, here are more! Did he shoot my lapwings, Nelly? Are theyred, any of them? Let me look.”

“Give over with that baby-work!” I interrupted, dragging the pillowaway, and turning the holes towards the mattress, for she was removing itscontents by handfuls. “Lie down and shut your eyes: you’rewandering. 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 agedwoman: you have grey hair and bent shoulders. This bed is the fairy cave underPenistone Crags, and you are gathering elf-bolts to hurt our heifers;pretending, while I am near, that they are only locks of wool. That’swhat 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 youreally were that withered hag, and I should think I was underPenistone Crags; and I’m conscious it’s night, and there are twocandles on the table making the black press shine like jet.”

“The black press? where is that?” I asked. “You are talkingin your sleep!”

“It’s against the wall, as it always is,” she replied.“It does appear odd—I see a face in it!”

“There’s no press in the room, and never was,” said I,resuming my seat, and looping up the curtain that I might watch her.

“Don’t you see that face?” she inquired, gazingearnestly at the mirror.

And say what I could, I was incapable of making her comprehend it to be herown; so I rose and covered it with a shawl.

“It’s behind there still!” she pursued, anxiously. “Andit 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 shuddersconvulsed her frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards theglass.

“There’s nobody here!” I insisted. “It wasyourself, 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 attemptedto steal to the door with an intention of calling her husband; but I wassummoned back by a piercing shriek—the shawl had dropped from the frame.

“Why, what is the matter?” cried I. “Who is cowardnow? Wake up! That is the glass—the mirror, Mrs. Linton; and you seeyourself in it, and there am I too by your side.”

Trembling and bewildered, she held me fast, but the horror gradually passedfrom her countenance; its paleness gave place to a glow of shame.

“Oh, dear! I thought I was at home,” she sighed. “I thought Iwas lying in my chamber at Wuthering Heights. Because I’m weak, my braingot confused, and I screamed unconsciously. Don’t say anything; but staywith me. I dread sleeping: my dreams appal me.”

“A sound sleep would do you good, ma’am,” I answered:“and I hope this suffering will prevent your trying starvingagain.”

“Oh, if I were but in my own bed in the old house!” she went onbitterly, wringing her hands. “And that wind sounding in the firs by thelattice. Do let me feel it—it comes straight down the moor—do letme have one breath!”

To pacify her I held the casem*nt ajar a few seconds. A cold blast rushedthrough; I closed it, and returned to my post. She lay still now, her facebathed in tears. Exhaustion of body had entirely subdued her spirit: our fieryCatherine was no better than a wailing child.

“How long is it since I shut myself in here?” she asked, suddenlyreviving.

“It was Monday evening,” I replied, “and this is Thursdaynight, or rather Friday morning, at present.”

“What! of the same week?” she exclaimed. “Only that brieftime?”

“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 hadquarrelled, and Edgar being cruelly provoking, and me running into this roomdesperate. As soon as ever I had barred the door, utter blackness overwhelmedme, and I fell on the floor. I couldn’t explain to Edgar how certain Ifelt of having a fit, or going raging mad, if he persisted in teasing me! I hadno command of tongue, or brain, and he did not guess my agony, perhaps: itbarely left me sense to try to escape from him and his voice. Before Irecovered 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 recurringtill I feared for my reason. I thought as I lay there, with my head againstthat 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 withsome great grief which, just waking, I could not recollect. I pondered, andworried myself to discover what it could be, and, most strangely, the wholelast seven years of my life grew a blank! I did not recall that they had beenat all. I was a child; my father was just buried, and my misery arose from theseparation that Hindley had ordered between me and Heathcliff. I was laidalone, for the first time; and, rousing from a dismal doze after a night ofweeping, I lifted my hand to push the panels aside: it struck the table-top! Iswept it along the carpet, and then memory burst in: my late anguish wasswallowed 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 everyearly association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time, and beenconverted at a stroke into Mrs. Linton, the lady of Thrushcross Grange, and thewife of a stranger: an exile, and outcast, thenceforth, from what had been myworld. You may fancy a glimpse of the abyss where I grovelled! Shake your headas you will, Nelly, you have helped to unsettle me! You should havespoken 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, halfsavage 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 fewwords? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on thosehills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open! Quick, why don’t youmove?”

“Because I won’t give you your death of cold,” I answered.

“You won’t give me a chance of life, you mean,” she saidsullenly. “However, I’m not helpless yet; I’ll open itmyself.”

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 frostyair that cut about her shoulders as keen as a knife. I entreated, and finallyattempted to force her to retire. But I soon found her delirious strength muchsurpassed mine (she was delirious, I became convinced by her subsequentactions and ravings). There was no moon, and everything beneath lay in mistydarkness: not a light gleamed from any house, far or near; all had beenextinguished long ago: and those at Wuthering Heights were nevervisible—still she asserted she caught their shining.

“Look!” she cried eagerly, “that’s my room with thecandle in it, and the trees swaying before it; and the other candle is inJoseph’s garret. Joseph sits up late, doesn’t he? He’swaiting till I come home that he may lock the gate. Well, he’ll wait awhile yet. It’s a rough journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and wemust pass by Gimmerton Kirk to go that journey! We’ve braved its ghostsoften together, and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them tocome. 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 metwelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t resttill you are with me. I never will!”

She paused, and resumed with a strange smile. “He’sconsidering—he’d rather I’d come to him! Find a way, then!not through that kirkyard. You are slow! Be content, you always followedme!”

Perceiving it vain to argue against her insanity, I was planning how I couldreach something to wrap about her, without quitting my hold of herself (for Icould not trust her alone by the gaping lattice), when, to my consternation, Iheard the rattle of the door-handle, and Mr. Linton entered. He had only thencome from the library; and, in passing through the lobby, had noticed ourtalking 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 atthe sight which met him, and the bleak atmosphere of the chamber. “Mypoor 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’shard 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 himspeechless, and he could only glance from her to me in horrified astonishment.

“She’s been fretting here,” I continued, “and eatingscarcely anything, and never complaining: she would admit none of us till thisevening, and so we couldn’t inform you of her state, as we were not awareof it ourselves; but it is nothing.”

I felt I uttered my explanations awkwardly; the master frowned. “It isnothing, is it, Ellen Dean?” he said sternly. “You shall accountmore clearly for keeping me ignorant of this!” And he took his wife inhis arms, and looked at her with anguish.

At first she gave him no glance of recognition: he was invisible to herabstracted gaze. The delirium was not fixed, however; having weaned her eyesfrom contemplating the outer darkness, by degrees she centred her attention onhim, and discovered who it was that held her.

“Ah! you are come, are you, Edgar Linton?” she said, with angryanimation. “You are one of those things that are ever found when leastwanted, and when you are wanted, never! I suppose we shall have plenty oflamentations now—I see we shall—but they can’t keep me frommy narrow home out yonder: my resting-place, where I’m bound beforespring is over! There it is: not among the Lintons, mind, under thechapel-roof, but in the open air, with a head-stone; and you may pleaseyourself whether you go to them or come to me!”

“Catherine, what have you done?” commenced the master. “Am Inothing to you any more? Do you love that wretch Heath—”

“Hush!” cried Mrs. Linton. “Hush, this moment! You mentionthat name and I end the matter instantly by a spring from the window! What youtouch at present you may have; but my soul will be on that hill-top before youlay hands on me again. I don’t want you, Edgar: I’m past wantingyou. Return to your books. I’m glad you possess a consolation, for allyou had in me is gone.”

“Her mind wanders, sir,” I interposed. “She has been talkingnonsense the whole evening; but let her have quiet, and proper attendance, andshe’ll rally. Hereafter, we must be cautious how we vex her.”

“I desire no further advice from you,” answered Mr. Linton.“You knew your mistress’s nature, and you encouraged me to harassher. And not to give me one hint of how she has been these three days! It washeartless! Months of sickness could not cause such a change!”

I began to defend myself, thinking it too bad to be blamed for another’swicked waywardness. “I knew Mrs. Linton’s nature to be headstrongand domineering,” cried I: “but I didn’t know that you wishedto foster her fierce temper! I didn’t know that, to humour her, I shouldwink at Mr. Heathcliff. I performed the duty of a faithful servant in tellingyou, and I have got a faithful servant’s wages! Well, it will teach me tobe careful next time. Next time you may gather intelligence foryourself!”

“The next time you bring a tale to me you shall quit my service, EllenDean,” he replied.

“You’d rather hear nothing about it, I suppose, then, Mr.Linton?” said I. “Heathcliff has your permission to come a-courtingto Miss, and to drop in at every opportunity your absence offers, on purpose topoison the mistress against you?”

Confused as Catherine was, her wits were alert at applying our conversation.

“Ah! Nelly has played traitor,” she exclaimed, passionately.“Nelly is my hidden enemy. You witch! So you do seek elf-bolts to hurtus! Let me go, and I’ll make her rue! I’ll make her howl arecantation!”

A maniac’s fury kindled under her brows; she struggled desperately todisengage herself from Linton’s arms. I felt no inclination to tarry theevent; and, resolving to seek medical aid on my own responsibility, I quittedthe chamber.

In passing the garden to reach the road, at a place where a bridle hook isdriven into the wall, I saw something white moved irregularly, evidently byanother agent than the wind. Notwithstanding my hurry, I stayed to examine it,lest ever after I should have the conviction impressed on my imagination thatit was a creature of the other world. My surprise and perplexity were great ondiscovering, by touch more than vision, Miss Isabella’s springer, Fanny,suspended by a handkerchief, and nearly at its last gasp. I quickly releasedthe animal, and lifted it into the garden. I had seen it follow its mistressupstairs when she went to bed; and wondered much how it could have got outthere, and what mischievous person had treated it so. While untying the knotround the hook, it seemed to me that I repeatedly caught the beat ofhorses’ feet galloping at some distance; but there were such a number ofthings to occupy my reflections that I hardly gave the circ*mstance a thought:though it was a strange sound, in that place, at two o’clock in themorning.

Mr. Kenneth was fortunately just issuing from his house to see a patient in thevillage as I came up the street; and my account of Catherine Linton’smalady 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 herselfbefore.

“Nelly Dean,” said he, “I can’t help fancyingthere’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 notfall ill for a trifle; and that sort of people should not either. It’shard work bringing them through fevers, and such things. How did itbegin?”

“The master will inform you,” I answered; “but you areacquainted with the Earnshaws’ violent dispositions, and Mrs. Linton capsthem all. I may say this; it commenced in a quarrel. She was struck during atempest of passion with a kind of fit. That’s her account, at least: forshe flew off in the height of it, and locked herself up. Afterwards, sherefused 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 strangeideas and illusions.”

“Mr. Linton will be sorry?” observed Kenneth, interrogatively.

“Sorry? he’ll break his heart should anything happen!” Ireplied. “Don’t alarm him more than necessary.”

“Well, I told him to beware,” said my companion; “and he mustbide the consequences of neglecting my warning! Hasn’t he been intimatewith 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 dischargedfrom the trouble of calling; owing to some presumptuous aspirations after MissLinton which he manifested. I hardly think he’ll be taken inagain.”

“And does Miss Linton turn a cold shoulder on him?” was thedoctor’s next question.

“I’m not in her confidence,” returned I, reluctant tocontinue 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 itfrom good authority that last night (and a pretty night it was!) she andHeathcliff were walking in the plantation at the back of your house above twohours; and he pressed her not to go in again, but just mount his horse and awaywith him! My informant said she could only put him off by pledging her word ofhonour to be prepared on their first meeting after that: when it was to be hedidn’t hear; but you urge Mr. Linton to look sharp!”

This news filled me with fresh fears; I outstripped Kenneth, and ran most ofthe way back. The little dog was yelping in the garden yet. I spared a minuteto open the gate for it, but instead of going to the house door, it coursed upand down snuffing the grass, and would have escaped to the road, had I notseized it and conveyed it in with me. On ascending to Isabella’s room, mysuspicions 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 bedone now? There was a bare possibility of overtaking them if pursued instantly.I could not pursue them, however; and I dared not rouse the family, andfill 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 asecond grief! I saw nothing for it but to hold my tongue, and suffer matters totake their course; and Kenneth being arrived, I went with a badly composedcountenance to announce him. Catherine lay in a troubled sleep: her husband hadsucceeded 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 itshaving a favourable termination, if we could only preserve around her perfectand constant tranquillity. To me, he signified the threatening danger was notso much death, as permanent alienation of intellect.

I did not close my eyes that night, nor did Mr. Linton: indeed, we never wentto bed; and the servants were all up long before the usual hour, moving throughthe house with stealthy tread, and exchanging whispers as they encountered eachother in their vocations. Every one was active but Miss Isabella; and theybegan 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 littleanxiety for her sister-in-law. I trembled lest he should send me to call her;but I was spared the pain of being the first proclaimant of her flight. One ofthe 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 younglady—”

“Hold your noise!” cried I hastily, enraged at her clamorousmanner.

“Speak lower, Mary—What is the matter?” said Mr. Linton.“What ails your young lady?”

“She’s gone, she’s gone! Yon’ Heathcliff’s runoff 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 andseek her. It is incredible: it cannot be.”

As he spoke he took the servant to the door, and then repeated his demand toknow her reasons for such an assertion.

“Why, I met on the road a lad that fetches milk here,” shestammered, “and he asked whether we weren’t in trouble at theGrange. I thought he meant for missis’s sickness, so I answered, yes.Then says he, ‘There’s somebody gone after ’em, Iguess?’ I stared. He saw I knew nought about it, and he told how agentleman and lady had stopped to have a horse’s shoe fastened at ablacksmith’s shop, two miles out of Gimmerton, not very long aftermidnight! 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 sovereignin 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 sawher very plain. Heathcliff held both bridles as they rode on, and they settheir faces from the village, and went as fast as the rough roads would letthem. The lass said nothing to her father, but she told it all over Gimmertonthis morning.”

I ran and peeped, for form’s sake, into Isabella’s room;confirming, when I returned, the servant’s statement. Mr. Linton hadresumed his seat by the bed; on my re-entrance, he raised his eyes, read themeaning of my blank aspect, and dropped them without giving an order, oruttering a word.

“Are we to try any measures for overtaking and bringing her back,”I inquired. “How should we do?”

“She went of her own accord,” answered the master; “she had aright to go if she pleased. Trouble me no more about her. Hereafter she is onlymy sister in name: not because I disown her, but because she has disownedme.”

And that was all he said on the subject: he did not make a single inquiryfurther, or mention her in any way, except directing me to send what propertyshe had in the house to her fresh home, wherever it was, when I knew it.

CHAPTER XIII

For two months the fugitives remained absent; in those two months, Mrs. Lintonencountered and conquered the worst shock of what was denominated a brainfever. No mother could have nursed an only child more devotedly than Edgartended her. Day and night he was watching, and patiently enduring all theannoyances that irritable nerves and a shaken reason could inflict; and, thoughKenneth remarked that what he saved from the grave would only recompense hiscare by forming the source of constant future anxiety—in fact, that hishealth and strength were being sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin ofhumanity—he knew no limits in gratitude and joy when Catherine’slife 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 sanguinehopes with the illusion that her mind would settle back to its right balancealso, and she would soon be entirely her former self.

The first time she left her chamber was at the commencement of the followingMarch. Mr. Linton had put on her pillow, in the morning, a handful of goldencrocuses; her eye, long stranger to any gleam of pleasure, caught them inwaking, 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 meltedsnow. 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 isblue, 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, Ifeel 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 springyou’ll long again to have me under this roof, and you’ll look backand think you were happy to-day.”

Linton lavished on her the kindest caresses, and tried to cheer her by thefondest words; but, vaguely regarding the flowers, she let the tears collect onher lashes and stream down her cheeks unheeding. We knew she was really better,and, therefore, decided that long confinement to a single place produced muchof 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 herdown, 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 thedreary associations investing her hated sick chamber. By evening she seemedgreatly exhausted; yet no arguments could persuade her to return to thatapartment, and I had to arrange the parlour sofa for her bed, till another roomcould be prepared. To obviate the fatigue of mounting and descending thestairs, we fitted up this, where you lie at present—on the same floorwith 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, sowaited on as she was. And there was double cause to desire it, for on herexistence depended that of another: we cherished the hope that in a littlewhile Mr. Linton’s heart would be gladdened, and his lands secured from astranger’s gripe, by the birth of an heir.

I should mention that Isabella sent to her brother, some six weeks from herdeparture, a short note, announcing her marriage with Heathcliff. It appeareddry 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 hadoffended him: asserting that she could not help it then, and being done, shehad now no power to repeal it. Linton did not reply to this, I believe; and, ina fortnight more, I got a long letter, which I considered odd, coming from thepen of a bride just out of the honeymoon. I’ll read it: for I keep ityet. Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

* * * * *

DEAR ELLEN, it begins,—I came last night toWuthering Heights, and heard, for the first time, that Catherine has been, andis yet, very ill. I must not write to her, I suppose, and my brother is eithertoo angry or too distressed to answer what I sent him. Still, I must write tosomebody, and the only choice left me is you.

Inform Edgar that I’d give the world to see his face again—that myheart returned to Thrushcross Grange in twenty-four hours after I left it, andis there at this moment, full of warm feelings for him, and Catherine! Ican’t follow it though—(these words are underlined)—theyneed not expect me, and they may draw what conclusions they please; takingcare, however, to lay nothing at the door of my weak will or deficientaffection.

The remainder of the letter is for yourself alone. I want to ask you twoquestions: the first is,—How did you contrive to preserve the commonsympathies of human nature when you resided here? I cannot recognise anysentiment which those around share with me.

The second question I have great interest in; it is this—Is Mr.Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? Isha’n’t tell my reasons for making this inquiry; but I beseech youto 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 mesomething from Edgar.

Now, you shall hear how I have been received in my new home, as I am led toimagine the Heights will be. It is to amuse myself that I dwell on suchsubjects 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 Ifound their absence was the total of my miseries, and the rest was an unnaturaldream!

The sun set behind the Grange as we turned on to the moors; by that, I judgedit to be six o’clock; and my companion halted half an hour, to inspectthe park, and the gardens, and, probably, the place itself, as well as hecould; so it was dark when we dismounted in the paved yard of the farmhouse,and your old fellow-servant, Joseph, issued out to receive us by the light of adip candle. He did it with a courtesy that redounded to his credit. His firstact 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 theminto the stables; reappearing for the purpose of locking the outer gate, as ifwe 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 inyour charge. By the fire stood a ruffianly child, strong in limb and dirty ingarb, with a look of Catherine in his eyes and about his mouth.

“This is Edgar’s legal nephew,” I reflected—“minein a manner; I must shake hands, and—yes—I must kiss him. It isright to establish a good understanding at the beginning.”

I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said—“How doyou do, my dear?”

He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.

“Shall you and I be friends, Hareton?” was my next essay atconversation.

An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not “frameoff” rewarded my perseverance.

“Hey, Throttler, lad!” whispered the little wretch, rousing ahalf-bred bull-dog from its lair in a corner. “Now, wilt thou beganging?” he asked authoritatively.

Love for my life urged a compliance; I stepped over the threshold to wait tillthe others should enter. Mr. Heathcliff was nowhere visible; and Joseph, whom Ifollowed to the stables, and requested to accompany me in, after staring andmuttering to himself, screwed up his nose and replied—“Mim! mim!mim! Did iver Christian body hear aught like it? Mincing 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, andcontinued his work; moving his lantern jaws meanwhile, and surveying my dressand countenance (the former a great deal too fine, but the latter, I’msure, as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.

I walked round the yard, and through a wicket, to another door, at which I tookthe liberty of knocking, in hopes some more civil servant might show himself.After a short suspense, it was opened by a tall, gaunt man, withoutneckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly; his features were lost in massesof shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders; and his eyes, too, were likea ghostly Catherine’s with all their beauty annihilated.

“What’s your business here?” he demanded, grimly. “Whoare 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 yourpermission.”

“Is he come back, then?” asked the hermit, glaring like a hungrywolf.

“Yes—we came just now,” I said; “but he left me by thekitchen door; and when I would have gone in, your little boy played sentinelover the place, and frightened me off by the help of a bull-dog.”

“It’s well the hellish villain has kept his word!” growled myfuture host, searching the darkness beyond me in expectation of discoveringHeathcliff; and then he indulged in a soliloquy of execrations, and threats ofwhat he would have done had the “fiend” deceived him.

I repented having tried this second entrance, and was almost inclined to slipaway before he finished cursing, but ere I could execute that intention, heordered me in, and shut and re-fastened the door. There was a great fire, andthat was all the light in the huge apartment, whose floor had grown a uniformgrey; and the once brilliant pewter-dishes, which used to attract my gaze whenI was a girl, partook of a similar obscurity, created by tarnish and dust. Iinquired whether I might call the maid, and be conducted to a bedroom! Mr.Earnshaw vouchsafed no answer. He walked up and down, with his hands in hispockets, apparently quite forgetting my presence; and his abstraction wasevidently so deep, and his whole aspect so misanthropical, that I shrank fromdisturbing him again.

You’ll not be surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless,seated in worse than solitude on that inhospitable hearth, and remembering thatfour miles distant lay my delightful home, containing the only people I lovedon earth; and there might as well be the Atlantic to part us, instead of thosefour miles: I could not overpass them! I questioned with myself—wheremust I turn for comfort? and—mind you don’t tell Edgar, orCatherine—above every sorrow beside, this rose pre-eminent: despair atfinding nobody who could or would be my ally against Heathcliff! I had soughtshelter at Wuthering Heights, almost gladly, because I was secured by thatarrangement from living alone with him; but he knew the people we were comingamongst, and he did not fear their intermeddling.

I sat and thought a doleful time: the clock struck eight, and nine, and stillmy companion paced to and fro, his head bent on his breast, and perfectlysilent, unless a groan or a bitter ejacul*tion forced itself out at intervals.I listened to detect a woman’s voice in the house, and filled the interimwith wild regrets and dismal anticipations, which, at last, spoke audibly inirrepressible sighing and weeping. I was not aware how openly I grieved, tillEarnshaw halted opposite, in his measured walk, and gave me a stare ofnewly-awakened surprise. Taking advantage of his recovered attention, Iexclaimed—“I’m tired with my journey, and I want to go tobed! Where is the maid-servant? Direct me to her, as she won’t come tome!”

“We have none,” he answered; “you must wait onyourself!”

“Where must I sleep, then?” I sobbed; I was beyond regardingself-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 strangesttone—“Be so good as to turn your lock, and draw yourbolt—don’t omit it!”

“Well!” I said. “But why, Mr. Earnshaw?” I did notrelish the notion of deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.

“Look here!” he replied, pulling from his waistcoat acuriously-constructed pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached tothe 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 Ifind it open he’s done for; I do it invariably, even though the minutebefore I have been recalling a hundred reasons that should make me refrain: itis some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by killing him. You fightagainst that devil for love as long as you may; when the time comes, not allthe angels in heaven shall save him!”

I surveyed the weapon inquisitively. A hideous notion struck me: how powerful Ishould be possessing such an instrument! I took it from his hand, and touchedthe blade. He looked astonished at the expression my face assumed during abrief second: it was not horror, it was covetousness. He snatched the pistolback, jealously; shut the knife, and returned it to its concealment.

“I don’t care if you tell him,” said he. “Put him onhis guard, and watch for him. You know the terms we are on, I see: his dangerdoes not shock you.”

“What has Heathcliff done to you?” I asked. “In what has hewronged you, to warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn’t it be wiser tobid 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! AmI 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 goldtoo; and then his blood; and hell shall have his soul! It will be ten timesblacker with that guest than ever it was before!”

You’ve acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master’s habits. He isclearly on the verge of madness: he was so last night at least. I shuddered tobe near him, and thought on the servant’s ill-bred moroseness ascomparatively agreeable. He now recommenced his moody walk, and I raised thelatch, and escaped into the kitchen. Joseph was bending over the fire, peeringinto a large pan that swung above it; and a wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on thesettle close by. The contents of the pan began to boil, and he turned to plungehis hand into the bowl; I conjectured that this preparation was probably forour supper, and, being hungry, I resolved it should be eatable; so, crying outsharply, “I’ll make the porridge!” I removed thevessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding-habit.“Mr. Earnshaw,” I continued, “directs me to wait on myself: Iwill. I’m not going to act the lady among you, for fear I shouldstarve.”

“Gooid Lord!” he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbedstockings from the knee to the ankle. “If there’s to be freshortherings—just when I getten used to two maisters, if I mun hev’ amistress set o’er my heead, it’s like time to be flitting. Iniver did think to see t’ day that I mud lave th’ owldplace—but I doubt it’s nigh at hand!”

This lamentation drew no notice from me: I went briskly to work, sighing toremember a period when it would have been all merry fun; but compelled speedilyto drive off the remembrance. It racked me to recall past happiness and thegreater peril there was of conjuring up its apparition, the quicker the thibleran round, and the faster the handfuls of meal fell into the water. Josephbeheld my style of cookery with growing indignation.

“Thear!” he ejacul*ted. “Hareton, thou willn’t sup thyporridge to-neeght; they’ll be naught but lumps as big as my neive.Thear, agean! I’d fling in bowl un’ all, if I wer ye! There, palet’ guilp off, un’ then ye’ll hae done wi’t. Bang, bang.It’s a mercy t’ bothom isn’t deaved out!”

It was rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins; four hadbeen provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was brought from the dairy,which Hareton seized and commenced drinking and spilling from the expansivelip. I expostulated, and desired that he should have his in a mug; affirmingthat I could not taste the liquid treated so dirtily. The old cynic chose to bevastly offended at this nicety; assuring me, repeatedly, that “the barnwas every bit as good” as I, “and every bit as wollsome,” andwondering how I could fashion to be so conceited. Meanwhile, the infant ruffiancontinued sucking; and glowered up at me defyingly, as he slavered into thejug.

“I shall have my supper in another room,” I said. “Have youno place you call a parlour?”

“Parlour!” he echoed, sneeringly, “parlour!Nay, we’ve noa parlours. If yah dunnut loike wer company,there’s maister’s; un’ if yah dunnut loike maister,there’s us.”

“Then I shall go upstairs,” I answered; “show me achamber.”

I put my basin on a tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk. With greatgrumblings, the fellow rose, and preceded me in my ascent: we mounted to thegarrets; 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 crankyboard on hinges. “It’s weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in.There’s a pack o’ corn i’ t’ corner, thear, meeterlyclane; if ye’re feared o’ muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yerhankerchir o’ t’ top on’t.”

The “rahm” was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt andgrain; various sacks of which articles were piled around, leaving a wide, barespace in the middle.

“Why, man,” I exclaimed, facing him angrily, “this is not aplace to sleep in. I wish to see my bed-room.”

“Bed-rume!” he repeated, in a tone of mockery.“Yah’s see all t’ bed-rumes thear is—yon’smine.”

He pointed into the second garret, only differing from the first in being morenaked about the walls, and having a large, low, curtainless bed, with anindigo-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’rewanting?” cried he, as if making a new discovery. “Couldn’tye ha’ said soa, at onst? un’ then, I mud ha’ telled ye, bahtall this wark, that that’s just one ye cannut see—he allas keeps itlocked, un’ nob’dy iver mells on’t but hisseln.”

“You’ve a nice house, Joseph,” I could not refrain fromobserving, “and pleasant inmates; and I think the concentrated essence ofall the madness in the world took up its abode in my brain the day I linked myfate with theirs! However, that is not to the present purpose—there areother rooms. For heaven’s sake be quick, and let me settlesomewhere!”

He made no reply to this adjuration; only plodding doggedly down the woodensteps, and halting before an apartment which, from that halt and the superiorquality of its furniture, I conjectured to be the best one. There was acarpet—a good one, but the pattern was obliterated by dust; a fireplacehung with cut-paper, dropping to pieces; a handsome oak-bedstead with amplecrimson curtains of rather expensive material and modern make; but they hadevidently experienced rough usage: the vallances hung in festoons, wrenchedfrom their rings, and the iron rod supporting them was bent in an arc on oneside, causing the drapery to trail upon the floor. The chairs were alsodamaged, many of them severely; and deep indentations deformed the panels ofthe walls. I was endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and takingpossession, when my fool of a guide announced,—“This here ist’ maister’s.” My supper by this time was cold, my appetitegone, and my patience exhausted. I insisted on being provided instantly with aplace of refuge, and means of repose.

“Whear the divil?” began the religious elder. “The Lord blessus! The Lord forgie us! Whear the hell wold ye gang? ye marred,wearisome nowt! Ye’ve seen all but Hareton’s bit of acham’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 seatedmyself at the stairs’-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.

“Ech! ech!” exclaimed Joseph. “Weel done, Miss Cathy! weeldone, Miss Cathy! Howsiver, t’ maister sall just tum’le o’erthem brocken pots; un’ then we’s hear summut; we’s hear howit’s to be. Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro’ thisto Churstmas, flinging t’ precious gifts uh God under fooit i’ yerflaysome rages! But I’m mista’en if ye shew yer sperrit lang. WillHathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch yei’ that plisky. I nobbut wish he may.”

And so he went on scolding to his den beneath, taking the candle with him; andI remained in the dark. The period of reflection succeeding this silly actioncompelled me to admit the necessity of smothering my pride and choking mywrath, and bestirring myself to remove its effects. An unexpected aid presentlyappeared in the shape of Throttler, whom I now recognised as a son of our oldSkulker: it had spent its whelphood at the Grange, and was given by my fatherto Mr. Hindley. I fancy it knew me: it pushed its nose against mine by way ofsalute, and then hastened to devour the porridge; while I groped from step tostep, collecting the shattered earthenware, and drying the spatters of milkfrom the banister with my pocket-handkerchief. Our labours were scarcely overwhen I heard Earnshaw’s tread in the passage; my assistant tucked in histail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into the nearest doorway. Thedog’s endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful; as I guessed by a scutterdownstairs, and a prolonged, piteous yelping. I had better luck: he passed on,entered his chamber, and shut the door. Directly after Joseph came up withHareton, to put him to bed. I had found shelter in Hareton’s room, andthe old man, on seeing me, said,—“They’s rahm for boath yeun’ yer pride, now, I sud think i’ the hahse. It’s empty; yemay hev’ it all to yerseln, un’ Him as allas maks a third, i’sich ill company!”

Gladly did I take advantage of this intimation; and the minute I flung myselfinto 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, anddemanded, in his loving manner, what I was doing there? I told him the cause ofmy staying up so late—that he had the key of our room in his pocket. Theadjective our gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever shouldbe, mine; and he’d—but I’ll not repeat his language, nordescribe his habitual conduct: he is ingenious and unresting in seeking to gainmy abhorrence! I sometimes wonder at him with an intensity that deadens myfear: yet, I assure you, a tiger or a venomous serpent could not rouse terrorin 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’sproxy in suffering, till he could get hold of him.

I do hate him—I am wretched—I have been a fool! Beware of utteringone breath of this to any one at the Grange. I shall expect you everyday—don’t disappoint me!—ISABELLA.

CHAPTER XIV

As soon as I had perused this epistle I went to the master, and informed himthat his sister had arrived at the Heights, and sent me a letter expressing hersorrow 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 offorgiveness by me.

“Forgiveness!” said Linton. “I have nothing to forgive her,Ellen. You may call at Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you like, and saythat 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 thequestion my going to see her, however: we are eternally divided; and should shereally wish to oblige me, let her persuade the villain she has married to leavethe country.”

“And you won’t write her a little note, sir?” I asked,imploringly.

“No,” he answered. “It is needless. My communication withHeathcliff’s family shall be as sparing as his with mine. It shall notexist!”

Mr. Edgar’s coldness depressed me exceedingly; and all the way from theGrange I puzzled my brains how to put more heart into what he said, when Irepeated it; and how to soften his refusal of even a few lines to consoleIsabella. I daresay she had been on the watch for me since morning: I saw herlooking through the lattice as I came up the garden causeway, and I nodded toher; but she drew back, as if afraid of being observed. I entered withoutknocking. There never was such a dreary, dismal scene as the formerly cheerfulhouse presented! I must confess, that if I had been in the young lady’splace, I would, at least, have swept the hearth, and wiped the tables with aduster. But she already partook of the pervading spirit of neglect whichencompassed her. Her pretty face was wan and listless; her hair uncurled: somelocks hanging lankly down, and some carelessly twisted round her head. Probablyshe 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 herose when I appeared, asked me how I did, quite friendly, and offered me achair. He was the only thing there that seemed decent; and I thought he neverlooked better. So much had circ*mstances altered their positions, that he wouldcertainly have struck a stranger as a born and bred gentleman; and his wife asa thorough little slattern! She came forward eagerly to greet me, and held outone hand to take the expected letter. I shook my head. She wouldn’tunderstand the hint, but followed me to a sideboard, where I went to lay mybonnet, and importuned me in a whisper to give her directly what I had brought.Heathcliff guessed the meaning of her manœuvres, and said—“If youhave 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 thetruth at once. “My master bid me tell his sister that she must not expecteither 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 haveoccasioned; but he thinks that after this time his household and the householdhere should drop intercommunication, as nothing could come of keeping itup.”

Mrs. Heathcliff’s lip quivered slightly, and she returned to her seat inthe window. Her husband took his stand on the hearthstone, near me, and beganto put questions concerning Catherine. I told him as much as I thought properof her illness, and he extorted from me, by cross-examination, most of thefacts connected with its origin. I blamed her, as she deserved, for bringing itall on herself; and ended by hoping that he would follow Mr. Linton’sexample and avoid future interference with his family, for good or evil.

“Mrs. Linton is now just recovering,” I said; “she’llnever be like she was, but her life is spared; and if you really have a regardfor her, you’ll shun crossing her way again: nay, you’ll move outof this country entirely; and that you may not regret it, I’ll inform youCatherine Linton is as different now from your old friend Catherine Earnshaw,as that young lady is different from me. Her appearance is changed greatly, hercharacter much more so; and the person who is compelled, of necessity, to beher companion, will only sustain his affection hereafter by the remembrance ofwhat she once was, by common humanity, and a sense of duty!”

“That is quite possible,” remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself toseem calm: “quite possible that your master should have nothing butcommon humanity and a sense of duty to fall back upon. But do you imagine thatI shall leave Catherine to his duty and humanity? and can youcompare my feelings respecting Catherine to his? Before you leave this house, Imust 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 nevershall, through my means. Another encounter between you and the master wouldkill her altogether.”

“With your aid that may be avoided,” he continued; “andshould there be danger of such an event—should he be the cause of addinga single trouble more to her existence—why, I think I shall be justifiedin going to extremes! I wish you had sincerity enough to tell me whetherCatherine would suffer greatly from his loss: the fear that she would restrainsme. And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in myplace, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life togall, 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 shedesired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, anddrunk his blood! But, till then—if you don’t believe me, youdon’t know me—till then, I would have died by inches before Itouched a single hair of his head!”

“And yet,” I interrupted, “you have no scruples in completelyruining all hopes of her perfect restoration, by thrusting yourself into herremembrance now, when she has nearly forgotten you, and involving her in a newtumult of discord and distress.”

“You suppose she has nearly forgotten me?” he said. “Oh,Nelly! you know she has not! You know as well as I do, that for every thoughtshe spends on Linton she spends a thousand on me! At a most miserable period ofmy life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my return to theneighbourhood last summer; but only her own assurance could make me admit thehorrible idea again. And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor allthe dreams that ever I dreamt. Two words would comprehend myfuture—death and hell: existence, after losing her, wouldbe hell. Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued EdgarLinton’s attachment more than mine. If he loved with all the powers ofhis puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in aday. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have: the sea could be as readilycontained 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 isnot 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 canbe,” cried Isabella, with sudden vivacity. “No one has a right totalk in that manner, and I won’t hear my brother depreciated insilence!”

“Your brother is wondrous fond of you too, isn’t he?”observed Heathcliff, scornfully. “He turns you adrift on the world withsurprising alacrity.”

“He is not aware of what I suffer,” she replied. “Ididn’t tell him that.”

“You have been telling him something, then: you have written, haveyou?”

“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 ofcondition,” I remarked. “Somebody’s love comes short in hercase, obviously; whose, I may guess; but, perhaps, I shouldn’tsay.”

“I should guess it was her own,” said Heathcliff. “Shedegenerates into a mere slu*t! She is tired of trying to please me uncommonlyearly. You’d hardly credit it, but the very morrow of our wedding she wasweeping to go home. However, she’ll suit this house so much the betterfor not being over nice, and I’ll take care she does not disgrace me byrambling abroad.”

“Well, sir,” returned I, “I hope you’ll consider thatMrs. Heathcliff is accustomed to be looked after and waited on; and that shehas 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 treather kindly. Whatever be your notion of Mr. Edgar, you cannot doubt that she hasa capacity for strong attachments, or she wouldn’t have abandoned theelegancies, 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 indulgencesfrom my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rationalcreature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of mycharacter and acting on the false impressions she cherished. But, at last, Ithink she begins to know me: I don’t perceive the silly smiles andgrimaces that provoked me at first; and the senseless incapability ofdiscerning that I was in earnest when I gave her my opinion of her infatuationand herself. It was a marvellous effort of perspicacity to discover that I didnot love her. I believed, at one time, no lessons could teach her that! And yetit is poorly learnt; for this morning she announced, as a piece of appallingintelligence, that I had actually succeeded in making her hate me! A positivelabour of Hercules, I assure you! If it be achieved, I have cause to returnthanks. Can I trust your assertion, Isabella? Are you sure you hate me? If Ilet you alone for half a day, won’t you come sighing and wheedling to meagain? I daresay she would rather I had seemed all tenderness before you: itwounds her vanity to have the truth exposed. But I don’t care who knowsthat 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 thingshe saw me do, on coming out of the Grange, was to hang up her little dog; andwhen she pleaded for it, the first words I uttered were a wish that I had thehanging of every being belonging to her, except one: possibly she took thatexception for herself. But no brutality disgusted her: I suppose she has aninnate admiration of it, if only her precious person were secure from injury!Now, was it not the depth of absurdity—of genuine idiocy, for thatpitiful, slavish, mean-minded brach to dream that I could love her? Tell yourmaster, Nelly, that I never, in all my life, met with such an abject thing asshe is. She even disgraces the name of Linton; and I’ve sometimesrelented, from pure lack of invention, in my experiments on what she couldendure, and still creep shamefully cringing back! But tell him, also, to sethis fraternal and magisterial heart at ease: that I keep strictly within thelimits of the law. I have avoided, up to this period, giving her the slightestright to claim a separation; and, what’s more, she’d thank nobodyfor dividing us. If she desired to go, she might: the nuisance of her presenceoutweighs the gratification to be derived from tormenting her!”

“Mr. Heathcliff,” said I, “this is the talk of a madman; yourwife, most likely, is convinced you are mad; and, for that reason, she hasborne with you hitherto: but now that you say she may go, she’lldoubtless 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 herpartner’s endeavours to make himself detested. “Don’t putfaith in a single word he speaks. He’s a lying fiend! a monster, and nota human being! I’ve been told I might leave him before; and I’vemade the attempt, but I dare not repeat it! Only, Ellen, promise you’llnot 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 hehas married me on purpose to obtain power over him; and he sha’n’tobtain it—I’ll die first! I just hope, I pray, that he may forgethis diabolical prudence and kill me! The single pleasure I can imagine is todie, or to see him dead!”

“There—that will do for the present!” said Heathcliff.“If you are called upon in a court of law, you’ll remember herlanguage, Nelly! And take a good look at that countenance: she’s near thepoint which would suit me. No; you’re not fit to be your own guardian,Isabella, now; and I, being your legal protector, must retain you in mycustody, however distasteful the obligation may be. Go upstairs; I havesomething 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—“Ihave no pity! I have no pity! The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn tocrush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greaterenergy in proportion to the increase of pain.”

“Do you understand what the word pity means?” I said, hastening toresume 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 orcompel you to aid me in fulfilling my determination to see Catherine, and thatwithout delay. I swear that I meditate no harm: I don’t desire to causeany disturbance, or to exasperate or insult Mr. Linton; I only wish to hearfrom herself how she is, and why she has been ill; and to ask if anything thatI could do would be of use to her. Last night I was in the Grange garden sixhours, and I’ll return there to-night; and every night I’ll hauntthe place, and every day, till I find an opportunity of entering. If EdgarLinton meets me, I shall not hesitate to knock him down, and give him enough toinsure his quiescence while I stay. If his servants oppose me, I shall threatenthem off with these pistols. But wouldn’t it be better to prevent mycoming 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, assoon as she was alone, and watch till I departed, your conscience quite calm:you would be hindering mischief.”

I protested against playing that treacherous part in my employer’s house:and, besides, I urged the cruelty and selfishness of his destroying Mrs.Linton’s tranquillity for his satisfaction. “The commonestoccurrence startles her painfully,” I said. “She’s allnerves, and she couldn’t bear the surprise, I’m positive.Don’t persist, sir! or else I shall be obliged to inform my master ofyour designs; and he’ll take measures to secure his house and its inmatesfrom any such unwarrantable intrusions!”

“In that case I’ll take measures to secure you, woman!”exclaimed Heathcliff; “you shall not leave Wuthering Heights tillto-morrow morning. It is a foolish story to assert that Catherine could notbear to see me; and as to surprising her, I don’t desire it: you mustprepare her—ask her if I may come. You say she never mentions my name,and that I am never mentioned to her. To whom should she mention me if I am aforbidden 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, asmuch as anything, what she feels. You say she is often restless, andanxious-looking: is that a proof of tranquillity? You talk of her mind beingunsettled. How the devil could it be otherwise in her frightful isolation? Andthat insipid, paltry creature attending her from duty andhumanity! From pity and charity! He might as well plant anoak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her tovigour in the soil of his shallow cares! Let us settle it at once: will youstay 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 youpersist in your stubborn ill-nature!”

Well, Mr. Lockwood, I argued and complained, and flatly refused him fiftytimes; but in the long run he forced me to an agreement. I engaged to carry aletter from him to my mistress; and should she consent, I promised to let himhave 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-servantsshould 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; andI thought, too, it might create a favourable crisis in Catherine’s mentalillness: and then I remembered Mr. Edgar’s stern rebuke of my carryingtales; 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 anappellation, should be the last. Notwithstanding, my journey homeward wassadder than my journey thither; and many misgivings I had, ere I could prevailon 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 anothermorning.

* * * * *

Dree, and dreary! I reflected as the good woman descended to receive thedoctor: and not exactly of the kind which I should have chosen to amuse me. Butnever mind! I’ll extract wholesome medicines from Mrs. Dean’sbitter herbs; and firstly, let me beware of the fascination that lurks inCatherine Heathcliff’s brilliant eyes. I should be in a curious taking ifI surrendered my heart to that young person, and the daughter turned out asecond edition of the mother.

CHAPTER XV

Another week over—and I am so many days nearer health, and spring! I havenow heard all my neighbour’s history, at different sittings, as thehousekeeper could spare time from more important occupations. I’llcontinue it in her own words, only a little condensed. She is, on the whole, avery 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, aswell as if I saw him, that Mr. Heathcliff was about the place; and I shunnedgoing out, because I still carried his letter in my pocket, and didn’twant to be threatened or teased any more. I had made up my mind not to give ittill my master went somewhere, as I could not guess how its receipt wouldaffect Catherine. The consequence was, that it did not reach her before thelapse of three days. The fourth was Sunday, and I brought it into her roomafter the family were gone to church. There was a man servant left to keep thehouse with me, and we generally made a practice of locking the doors during thehours of service; but on that occasion the weather was so warm and pleasantthat I set them wide open, and, to fulfil my engagement, as I knew who would becoming, I told my companion that the mistress wished very much for someoranges, and he must run over to the village and get a few, to be paid for onthe 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 beenpartly removed at the beginning of her illness, and now she wore it simplycombed in its natural tresses over her temples and neck. Her appearance wasaltered, as I had told Heathcliff; but when she was calm, there seemedunearthly beauty in the change. The flash of her eyes had been succeeded by adreamy and melancholy softness; they no longer gave the impression of lookingat the objects around her: they appeared always to gaze beyond, and farbeyond—you would have said out of this world. Then, the paleness of herface—its haggard aspect having vanished as she recovered flesh—andthe peculiar expression arising from her mental state, though painfullysuggestive 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 shouldthink—refuted more tangible proofs of convalescence, and stamped her asone doomed to decay.

A book lay spread on the sill before her, and the scarcely perceptible windfluttered its leaves at intervals. I believe Linton had laid it there: for shenever 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 somesubject which had formerly been her amusem*nt. She was conscious of his aim,and in her better moods endured his efforts placidly, only showing theiruselessness by now and then suppressing a wearied sigh, and checking him atlast with the saddest of smiles and kisses. At other times, she would turnpetulantly 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 thebeck in the valley came soothingly on the ear. It was a sweet substitute forthe yet absent murmur of the summer foliage, which drowned that music about theGrange when the trees were in leaf. At Wuthering Heights it always sounded onquiet days following a great thaw or a season of steady rain. And of WutheringHeights Catherine was thinking as she listened: that is, if she thought orlistened at all; but she had the vague, distant look I mentioned before, whichexpressed no recognition of material things either by ear or eye.

“There’s a letter for you, Mrs. Linton,” I said, gentlyinserting it in one hand that rested on her knee. “You must read itimmediately, because it wants an answer. Shall I break the seal?”“Yes,” she answered, without altering the direction of her eyes. Iopened it—it was very short. “Now,” I continued, “readit.” 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 movementwas 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 toarrange her ideas. She lifted the letter, and seemed to peruse it; and when shecame to the signature she sighed: yet still I found she had not gathered itsimport, for, upon my desiring to hear her reply, she merely pointed to thename, and gazed at me with mournful and questioning eagerness.

“Well, he wishes to see you,” said I, guessing her need of aninterpreter. “He’s in the garden by this time, and impatient toknow what answer I shall bring.”

As I spoke, I observed a large dog lying on the sunny grass beneath raise itsears as if about to bark, and then smoothing them back, announce, by a wag ofthe tail, that some one approached whom it did not consider a stranger. Mrs.Linton bent forward, and listened breathlessly. The minute after a steptraversed the hall; the open house was too tempting for Heathcliff to resistwalking in: most likely he supposed that I was inclined to shirk my promise,and so resolved to trust to his own audacity. With straining eagernessCatherine gazed towards the entrance of her chamber. He did not hit the rightroom directly: she motioned me to admit him, but he found it out ere I couldreach the door, and in a stride or two was at her side, and had her grasped inhis arms.

He neither spoke nor loosed his hold for some five minutes, during which periodhe bestowed more kisses than ever he gave in his life before, I daresay: butthen my mistress had kissed him first, and I plainly saw that he could hardlybear, for downright agony, to look into her face! The same conviction hadstricken him as me, from the instant he beheld her, that there was no prospectof ultimate recovery there—she was fated, sure to die.

“Oh, Cathy! Oh, my life! how can I bear it?” was the first sentencehe uttered, in a tone that did not seek to disguise his despair. And now hestared at her so earnestly that I thought the very intensity of his gaze wouldbring tears into his eyes; but they burned with anguish: they did not melt.

“What now?” said Catherine, leaning back, and returning his lookwith a suddenly clouded brow: her humour was a mere vane for constantly varyingcaprices. “You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! And you bothcome to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people to be pitied! I shallnot pity you, not I. You have killed me—and thriven on it, I think. Howstrong 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 sheseized his hair, and kept him down.

“I wish I could hold you,” she continued, bitterly, “till wewere both dead! I shouldn’t care what you suffered. I care nothing foryour sufferings. Why shouldn’t you suffer? I do! Will you forget me? Willyou 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, andwas 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 rejoicethat I am going to her: I shall be sorry that I must leave them!’ Willyou say so, Heathcliff?”

“Don’t torture me till I’m as mad as yourself,” criedhe, wrenching his head free, and grinding his teeth.

The two, to a cool spectator, made a strange and fearful picture. Well mightCatherine deem that heaven would be a land of exile to her, unless with hermortal body she cast away her moral character also. Her present countenance hada wild vindictiveness in its white cheek, and a bloodless lip and scintillatingeye; and she retained in her closed fingers a portion of the locks she had beengrasping. As to her companion, while raising himself with one hand, he hadtaken her arm with the other; and so inadequate was his stock of gentleness tothe requirements of her condition, that on his letting go I saw four distinctimpressions left blue in the colourless skin.

“Are you possessed with a devil,” he pursued, savagely, “totalk in that manner to me when you are dying? Do you reflect that all thosewords will be branded in my memory, and eating deeper eternally after you haveleft me? You know you lie to say I have killed you: and, Catherine, you knowthat I could as soon forget you as my existence! Is it not sufficient for yourinfernal selfishness, that while you are at peace I shall writhe in thetorments of hell?”

“I shall not be at peace,” moaned Catherine, recalled to a sense ofphysical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of her heart, which beatvisibly and audibly under this excess of agitation. She said nothing furthertill the paroxysm was over; then she continued, more kindly—

“I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. Ionly wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress youhereafter, 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 tolet her see his face, which was livid with emotion. She bent round to look athim; he would not permit it: turning abruptly, he walked to the fireplace,where he stood, silent, with his back towards us. Mrs. Linton’s glancefollowed him suspiciously: every movement woke a new sentiment in her. After apause and a prolonged gaze, she resumed; addressing me in accents of indignantdisappointment:—

“Oh, you see, Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of thegrave. That is how I’m loved! Well, never mind. That is notmy Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he’sin my soul. And,” added she musingly, “the thing that irks me mostis 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 anaching heart: but really with it, and in it. Nelly, you think you are betterand more fortunate than I; in full health and strength: you are sorry forme—very soon that will be altered. I shall be sorry for you. Ishall be incomparably beyond and above you all. I wonder he won’tbe 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. Atthat 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 Catherinemade a spring, and he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from whichI thought my mistress would never be released alive: in fact, to my eyes, sheseemed directly insensible. He flung himself into the nearest seat, and on myapproaching hurriedly to ascertain if she had fainted, he gnashed at me, andfoamed like a mad dog, and gathered her to him with greedy jealousy. I did notfeel as if I were in the company of a creature of my own species: it appearedthat he would not understand, though I spoke to him; so I stood off, and heldmy tongue, in great perplexity.

A movement of Catherine’s relieved me a little presently: she put up herhand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her; while he, inreturn, 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’llblight you—they’ll damn you. You loved me—then whatright had you to leave me? What right—answer me—for the poorfancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, andnothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, ofyour own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you havebroken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for methat I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be whenyou—oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in thegrave?”

“Let me alone. Let me alone,” sobbed Catherine. “IfI’ve done wrong, I’m dying for it. It is enough! You left me too:but I won’t upbraid you! I forgive you. Forgive me!”

“It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wastedhands,” he answered. “Kiss me again; and don’t let me seeyour eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love mymurderer—but yours! How can I?”

They were silent—their faces hid against each other, and washed by eachother’s tears. At least, I suppose the weeping was on both sides; as itseemed Heathcliff could weep on a great occasion like this.

I grew very uncomfortable, meanwhile; for the afternoon wore fast away, the manwhom I had sent off returned from his errand, and I could distinguish, by theshine of the western sun up the valley, a concourse thickening outsideGimmerton chapel porch.

“Service is over,” I announced. “My master will be here inhalf 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 thekitchen wing. Mr. Linton was not far behind; he opened the gate himself andsauntered slowly up, probably enjoying the lovely afternoon that breathed assoft 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; andstay among the trees till he is fairly in.”

“I must go, Cathy,” said Heathcliff, seeking to extricate himselffrom his companion’s arms. “But if I live, I’ll see you againbefore you are asleep. I won’t stray five yards from your window.”

“You must not go!” she answered, holding him as firmly as herstrength 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 thealarmed intruder.

He would have risen, and unfixed her fingers by the act—she clung fast,gasping: there was mad resolution in her face.

“No!” she shrieked. “Oh, don’t, don’t go. It isthe last time! Edgar will not hurt us. Heathcliff, I shall die! I shalldie!”

“Damn the fool! There he is,” cried Heathcliff, sinking back intohis seat. “Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I’ll stay. Ifhe 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—thecold 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 notwit to help herself? Get up! You could be free instantly. That is the mostdiabolical 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 thatCatherine’s arms had fallen relaxed, and her head hung down.

“She’s fainted, or dead,” I thought: “so much thebetter. Far better that she should be dead, than lingering a burden and amisery-maker to all about her.”

Edgar sprang to his unbidden guest, blanched with astonishment and rage. Whathe meant to do I cannot tell; however, the other stopped all demonstrations, atonce, by placing the lifeless-looking form in his arms.

“Look there!” he said. “Unless you be a fiend, help herfirst—then you shall speak to me!”

He walked into the parlour, and sat down. Mr. Linton summoned me, and withgreat difficulty, and after resorting to many means, we managed to restore herto sensation; but she was all bewildered; she sighed, and moaned, and knewnobody. Edgar, in his anxiety for her, forgot her hated friend. I did not. Iwent, at the earliest opportunity, and besought him to depart; affirming thatCatherine was better, and he should hear from me in the morning how she passedthe night.

“I shall not refuse to go out of doors,” he answered; “but Ishall stay in the garden: and, Nelly, mind you keep your word to-morrow. Ishall be under those larch-trees. Mind! or I pay another visit, whether Lintonbe 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 hisluckless presence.

CHAPTER XVI

About twelve o’clock that night was born the Catherine you saw atWuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months’ child; and two hours after themother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to missHeathcliff, or know Edgar. The latter’s distraction at his bereavement isa subject too painful to be dwelt on; its after-effects showed how deep thesorrow 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 oldLinton for (what was only natural partiality) the securing his estate to hisown daughter, instead of his son’s. An unwelcomed infant it was, poorthing! It might have wailed out of life, and nobody cared a morsel, duringthose first hours of existence. We redeemed the neglect afterwards; but itsbeginning was as friendless as its end is likely to be.

Next morning—bright and cheerful out of doors—stole softened inthrough the blinds of the silent room, and suffused the couch and its occupantwith a mellow, tender glow. Edgar Linton had his head laid on the pillow, andhis eyes shut. His young and fair features were almost as deathlike as those ofthe form beside him, and almost as fixed: but his was the hush ofexhausted anguish, and hers of perfect peace. Her brow smooth, her lidsclosed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile; no angel in heaven could bemore beautiful than she appeared. And I partook of the infinite calm in whichshe lay: my mind was never in a holier frame than while I gazed on thatuntroubled image of Divine rest. I instinctively echoed the words she haduttered 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 thanhappy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzied or despairingmourner share the duty with me. I see a repose that neither earth nor hell canbreak, and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowlesshereafter—the Eternity they have entered—where life is boundless inits duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its fulness. I noticed onthat occasion how much selfishness there is even in a love like Mr.Linton’s, when he so regretted Catherine’s blessed release! To besure, one might have doubted, after the wayward and impatient existence she hadled, whether she merited a haven of peace at last. One might doubt in seasonsof cold reflection; but not then, in the presence of her corpse. It assertedits own tranquillity, which seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its formerinhabitant.

Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I’dgive a great deal to know.

I declined answering Mrs. Dean’s question, which struck me as somethingheterodox. She proceeded:

Retracing the course of Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to think sheis; but we’ll leave her with her Maker.

The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the roomand steal out to the pure refreshing air. The servants thought me gone to shakeoff the drowsiness of my protracted watch; in reality, my chief motive wasseeing Mr. Heathcliff. If he had remained among the larches all night, he wouldhave heard nothing of the stir at the Grange; unless, perhaps, he might catchthe gallop of the messenger going to Gimmerton. If he had come nearer, he wouldprobably be aware, from the lights flitting to and fro, and the opening andshutting of the outer doors, that all was not right within. I wished, yetfeared, to find him. I felt the terrible news must be told, and I longed to getit over; but how to do it I did not know. He was there—at least, afew yards further in the park; leant against an old ash-tree, his hat off, andhis hair soaked with the dew that had gathered on the budded branches, and fellpattering round him. He had been standing a long time in that position, for Isaw a pair of ousels passing and repassing scarcely three feet from him, busyin building their nest, and regarding his proximity no more than that of apiece of timber. They flew off at my approach, and he raised his eyes andspoke:—“She’s dead!” he said; “I’ve notwaited for you to learn that. Put your handkerchief away—don’tsnivel 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 havenone of the feeling either for themselves or others. When I first looked intohis face, I perceived that he had got intelligence of the catastrophe; and afoolish notion struck me that his heart was quelled and he prayed, because hislips moved and his gaze was bent on the ground.

“Yes, she’s dead!” I answered, checking my sobs and drying mycheeks. “Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if wetake 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 truehistory of the event. How did—?”

He endeavoured to pronounce the name, but could not manage it; and compressinghis mouth he held a silent combat with his inward agony, defying, meanwhile, mysympathy with an unflinching, ferocious stare. “How did she die?”he resumed, at last—fain, notwithstanding his hardihood, to have asupport 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 thesame as your brother men! Why should you be anxious to conceal them? Your pridecannot blind God! You tempt him to wring them, till he forces a cry ofhumiliation.”

“Quietly as a lamb!” I answered, aloud. “She drew a sigh, andstretched herself, like a child reviving, and sinking again to sleep; and fiveminutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!”

“And—did she ever mention me?” he asked, hesitating, as if hedreaded the answer to his question would introduce details that he could notbear to hear.

“Her senses never returned: she recognised nobody from the time you lefther,” I said. “She lies with a sweet smile on her face; and herlatest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentledream—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? Notthere—not in heaven—not perished—where? Oh! you saidyou cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer—I repeat ittill my tongue stiffens—Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as Iam living; you said I killed you—haunt me, then! The murdered dohaunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered onearth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only donot leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it isunutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live withoutmy 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 andspears. I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, andhis hand and forehead were both stained; probably the scene I witnessed was arepetition of others acted during the night. It hardly moved mycompassion—it appalled me: still, I felt reluctant to quit him so. Butthe moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching, he thundered acommand 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 followingher decease; and till then her coffin remained uncovered, and strewn withflowers and scented leaves, in the great drawing-room. Linton spent his daysand nights there, a sleepless guardian; and—a circ*mstance concealed fromall but me—Heathcliff spent his nights, at least, outside, equally astranger to repose. I held no communication with him; still, I was conscious ofhis design to enter, if he could; and on the Tuesday, a little after dark, whenmy 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 achance of bestowing on the faded image of his idol one final adieu. He did notomit to avail himself of the opportunity, cautiously and briefly; toocautiously to betray his presence by the slightest noise. Indeed, Ishouldn’t have discovered that he had been there, except for thedisarrangement of the drapery about the corpse’s face, and for observingon the floor a curl of light hair, fastened with a silver thread; which, onexamination, I ascertained to have been taken from a locket hung roundCatherine’s neck. Heathcliff had opened the trinket and cast out itscontents, replacing them by a black lock of his own. I twisted the two, andenclosed them together.

Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to attend the remains of his sister to thegrave; he sent no excuse, but he never came; so that, besides her husband, themourners were wholly composed of tenants and servants. Isabella was not asked.

The place of Catherine’s interment, to the surprise of the villagers, wasneither in the chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by thetombs of her own relations, outside. It was dug on a green slope in a corner ofthe kirkyard, where the wall is so low that heath and bilberry-plants haveclimbed over it from the moor; and peat-mould almost buries it. Her husbandlies in the same spot now; and they have each a simple headstone above, and aplain grey block at their feet, to mark the graves.

CHAPTER XVII

That Friday made the last of our fine days for a month. In the evening theweather broke: the wind shifted from south to north-east, and brought rainfirst, and then sleet and snow. On the morrow one could hardly imagine thatthere had been three weeks of summer: the primroses and crocuses were hiddenunder wintry drifts; the larks were silent, the young leaves of the early treessmitten and blackened. And dreary, and chill, and dismal, that morrow did creepover! 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 ofa child laid on my knee; rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, thestill driving flakes build up the uncurtained window, when the door opened, andsome person entered, out of breath and laughing! My anger was greater than myastonishment for a minute. I supposed it one of the maids, and Icried—“Have done! How dare you show your giddiness here? What wouldMr. Linton say if he heard you?”

“Excuse me!” answered a familiar voice; “but I know Edgar isin bed, and I cannot stop myself.”

With that the speaker came forward to the fire, panting and holding her hand toher side.

“I have run the whole way from Wuthering Heights!” she continued,after a pause; “except where I’ve flown. I couldn’t count thenumber of falls I’ve had. Oh, I’m aching all over! Don’t bealarmed! There shall be an explanation as soon as I can give it; only just havethe goodness to step out and order the carriage to take me on to Gimmerton, andtell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe.”

The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff. She certainly seemed in no laughingpredicament: her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and water;she was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting her age morethan her position: a low frock with short sleeves, and nothing on either heador neck. The frock was of light silk, and clung to her with wet, and her feetwere 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 scratchedand bruised, and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue; and youmay fancy my first fright was not much allayed when I had had leisure toexamine her.

“My dear young lady,” I exclaimed, “I’ll stir nowhere,and hear nothing, till you have removed every article of your clothes, and puton dry things; and certainly you shall not go to Gimmerton to-night, so it isneedless to order the carriage.”

“Certainly I shall,” she said; “walking or riding: yetI’ve no objection to dress myself decently. And—ah, see how itflows down my neck now! The fire does make it smart.”

She insisted on my fulfilling her directions, before she would let me touchher; and not till after the coachman had been instructed to get ready, and amaid set to pack up some necessary attire, did I obtain her consent for bindingthe wound and helping to change her garments.

“Now, Ellen,” she said, when my task was finished and she wasseated in an easy-chair on the hearth, with a cup of tea before her, “yousit down opposite me, and put poor Catherine’s baby away: I don’tlike to see it! You mustn’t think I care little for Catherine, because Ibehaved 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 sha’n’t forgive myself. But, for all that, I was not going tosympathise with him—the brute beast! Oh, give me the poker! This is thelast thing of his I have about me:” she slipped the gold ring from herthird finger, and threw it on the floor. “I’ll smash it!” shecontinued, striking it with childish spite, “and then I’ll burnit!” and she took and dropped the misused article among the coals.“There! he shall buy another, if he gets me back again. He’d becapable of coming to seek me, to tease Edgar. I dare not stay, lest that notionshould 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 moretrouble. Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here; though, if I had notlearned he was out of the way, I’d have halted at the kitchen, washed myface, warmed myself, got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again toanywhere out of the reach of my accursed—of that incarnate goblin! Ah, hewas in such a fury! If he had caught me! It’s a pity Earnshaw is not hismatch in strength: I wouldn’t have run till I’d seen him all butdemolished, 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, andmake the cut bleed again. Drink your tea, and take breath, and give overlaughing: laughter is sadly out of place under this roof, and in yourcondition!”

“An undeniable truth,” she replied. “Listen to that child! Itmaintains a constant wail—send it out of my hearing for an hour; Isha’n’t stay any longer.”

I rang the bell, and committed it to a servant’s care; and then Iinquired what had urged her to escape from Wuthering Heights in such anunlikely plight, and where she meant to go, as she refused remaining with us.

“I ought, and I wished to remain,” answered she, “to cheerEdgar and take care of the baby, for two things, and because the Grange is myright home. But I tell you he wouldn’t let me! Do you think he could bearto 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 beingsure that he detests me, to the point of its annoying him seriously to have mewithin ear-shot or eyesight: I notice, when I enter his presence, the musclesof his countenance are involuntarily distorted into an expression of hatred;partly arising from his knowledge of the good causes I have to feel thatsentiment for him, and partly from original aversion. It is strong enough tomake me feel pretty certain that he would not chase me over England, supposingI contrived a clear escape; and therefore I must get quite away. I’verecovered from my first desire to be killed by him: I’d rather he’dkill himself! He has extinguished my love effectually, and so I’m at myease. I can recollect yet how I loved him; and can dimly imagine that I couldstill be loving him, if—no, no! Even if he had doted on me, the devilishnature would have revealed its existence somehow. Catherine had an awfullyperverted taste to esteem him so dearly, knowing him so well. Monster! wouldthat he could be blotted out of creation, and out of my memory!”

“Hush, hush! He’s a human being,” I said. “Be morecharitable: there are worse men than he is yet!”

“He’s not a human being,” she retorted; “and he has noclaim 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 hasdestroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him: and I would not, though hegroaned 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. “Youasked, 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 thanknocking on the head. He was worked up to forget the fiendish prudence heboasted of, and proceeded to murderous violence. I experienced pleasure inbeing able to exasperate him: the sense of pleasure woke my instinct ofself-preservation, so I fairly broke free; and if ever I come into his handsagain he is welcome to a signal revenge.

“Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. Hekept himself sober for the purpose—tolerably sober: not going to bed madat six o’clock and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently, he rose, insuicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance; and instead, he satdown by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by tumblerfuls.

“Heathcliff—I shudder to name him! has been a stranger in the housefrom last Sunday till to-day. Whether the angels have fed him, or his kinbeneath, 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; lockinghimself in—as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company! There he hascontinued, praying like a Methodist: only the deity he implored is senselessdust and ashes; and God, when addressed, was curiously confounded with his ownblack father! After concluding these precious orisons—and they lastedgenerally till he grew hoarse and his voice was strangled in histhroat—he would be off again; always straight down to the Grange! Iwonder 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 thisseason of deliverance from degrading oppression as a holiday.

“I recovered spirits sufficient to hear Joseph’s eternal lectureswithout weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot of afrightened thief than formerly. You wouldn’t think that I should cry atanything 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 odiousold man! When Heathcliff is in, I’m often obliged to seek the kitchen andtheir 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 thehouse fire, and never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself; and he does notinterfere with my arrangements. He is quieter now than he used to be, if no oneprovokes him: more sullen and depressed, and less furious. Joseph affirmshe’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 signsof the favourable change: but it is not my business.

“Yester-evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late ontowards twelve. It seemed so dismal to go upstairs, with the wild snow blowingoutside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the kirkyard and thenew-made grave! I dared hardly lift my eyes from the page before me, thatmelancholy scene so instantly usurped its place. Hindley sat opposite, his headleant on his hand; perhaps meditating on the same subject. He had ceaseddrinking at a point below irrationality, and had neither stirred nor spokenduring two or three hours. There was no sound through the house but the moaningwind, which shook the windows every now and then, the faint crackling of thecoals, and the click of my snuffers as I removed at intervals the long wick ofthe 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 vanishedfrom the world, never to be restored.

“The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchenlatch: Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual; owing, Isuppose, to the sudden storm. That entrance was fastened, and we heard himcoming round to get in by the other. I rose with an irrepressible expression ofwhat I felt on my lips, which induced my companion, who had been staringtowards 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,’ Ianswered. ‘Do! put the key in the lock, and draw the bolts.’

“Earnshaw accomplished this ere his guest reached the front; he then cameand brought his chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, andsearching in my eyes for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed fromhis: as he both looked and felt like an assassin, he couldn’t exactlyfind that; but he discovered enough to encourage him to speak.

“‘You, and I,’ he said, ‘have each a great debt tosettle with the man out yonder! If we were neither of us cowards, we mightcombine to discharge it. Are you as soft as your brother? Are you willing toendure to the last, and not once attempt a repayment?’

“‘I’m weary of enduring now,’ I replied; ‘andI’d be glad of a retaliation that wouldn’t recoil on myself; buttreachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those whor*sort to them worse than their enemies.’

“‘Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery andviolence!’ cried Hindley. ‘Mrs. Heathcliff, I’ll ask you todo nothing; but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now, can you? I’m sure youwould have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion of thefiend’s existence; he’ll be your death unless you overreachhim; and he’ll be my ruin. Damn the hellish villain! He knocks atthe door as if he were master here already! Promise to hold your tongue, andbefore that clock strikes—it wants three minutes ofone—you’re a free woman!’

“He took the implements which I described to you in my letter from hisbreast, and would have turned down the candle. I snatched it away, however, andseized his arm.

“‘I’ll not hold my tongue!’ I said; ‘youmustn’t touch him. Let the door remain shut, and be quiet!’

“‘No! I’ve formed my resolution, and by God I’llexecute it!’ cried the desperate being. ‘I’ll do you akindness in spite of yourself, and Hareton justice! And you needn’ttrouble your head to screen me; Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regretme, or be ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute—and it’s timeto 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 victimof the fate which awaited him.

“‘You’d better seek shelter somewhere else to-night!’ Iexclaimed, in rather a triumphant tone. ‘Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shootyou, 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; havingtoo small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for thedanger that menaced him. Earnshaw swore passionately at me: affirming that Iloved the villain yet; and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit Ievinced. And I, in my secret heart (and conscience never reproached me),thought what a blessing it would be for him should Heathcliff put himout of misery; and what a blessing for me should he send Heathcliff tohis right abode! As I sat nursing these reflections, the casem*nt behind me wasbanged on to the floor by a blow from the latter individual, and his blackcountenance looked blightingly through. The stanchions stood too close tosuffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled, exulting in my fancied security.His hair and clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp cannibal teeth,revealed by cold and wrath, gleamed through the dark.

“‘Isabella, let me in, or I’ll make you repent!’ he‘girned,’ as Joseph calls it.

“‘I cannot commit murder,’ I replied. ‘Mr. Hindleystands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol.’

“‘Let me in by the kitchen door,’ he said.

“‘Hindley will be there before me,’ I answered: ‘andthat’s a poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow! We wereleft at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon shone, but the moment ablast 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. Theworld is surely not worth living in now, is it? You had distinctly impressed onme the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your life: I can’timagine how you think of surviving her loss.’

“‘He’s there, is he?’ exclaimed my companion, rushingto 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; butyou don’t know all, so don’t judge. I wouldn’t have aided orabetted an attempt on even his life for anything. Wish that he weredead, I must; and therefore I was fearfully disappointed, and unnerved byterror for the consequences of my taunting speech, when he flung himself onEarnshaw’s weapon and wrenched it from his grasp.

“The charge exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into itsowner’s wrist. Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up theflesh as it passed on, and thrust it dripping into his pocket. He then took astone, struck down the division between two windows, and sprang in. Hisadversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain and the flow of blood, thatgushed 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 inabstaining from finishing him completely; but getting out of breath, he finallydesisted, and dragged the apparently inanimate body on to the settle. There hetore off the sleeve of Earnshaw’s coat, and bound up the wound withbrutal roughness; spitting and cursing during the operation as energetically ashe had kicked before. Being at liberty, I lost no time in seeking the oldservant; who, having gathered by degrees the purport of my hasty tale, hurriedbelow, gasping, as he descended the steps two at once.

“‘What is ther to do, now? what is ther to do, now?’

“‘There’s this to do,’ thundered Heathcliff,‘that your master’s mad; and should he last another month,I’ll have him to an asylum. And how the devil did you come to fasten meout, 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 ofyour candle—it is more than half brandy!’

“‘And so ye’ve been murthering on him?’ exclaimedJoseph, lifting his hands and eyes in horror. ‘If iver I seed a seeghtloike 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 hishands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter from its odd phraseology. Iwas in the condition of mind to be shocked at nothing: in fact, I was asreckless as some malefactors show themselves at the foot of the gallows.

“‘Oh, I forgot you,’ said the tyrant. ‘You shall dothat. 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, whosteadily concluded his supplications, and then rose, vowing he would set offfor the Grange directly. Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he had fiftywives dead, he should inquire into this. He was so obstinate in his resolution,that Heathcliff deemed it expedient to compel from my lips a recapitulation ofwhat had taken place; standing over me, heaving with malevolence, as Ireluctantly delivered the account in answer to his questions. It required agreat deal of labour to satisfy the old man that Heathcliff was not theaggressor; especially with my hardly-wrung replies. However, Mr. Earnshaw soonconvinced him that he was alive still; Joseph hastened to administer a dose ofspirits, and by their succour his master presently regained motion andconsciousness. Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant of thetreatment received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated; andsaid he should not notice his atrocious conduct further, but advised him to getto bed. To my joy, he left us, after giving this judicious counsel, and Hindleystretched himself on the hearthstone. I departed to my own room, marvellingthat 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 gauntand ghastly, leant against the chimney. Neither appeared inclined to dine, and,having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced alone. Nothinghindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced a certain sense ofsatisfaction and superiority, as, at intervals, I cast a look towards my silentcompanions, and felt the comfort of a quiet conscience within me. After I haddone, I ventured on the unusual liberty of drawing near the fire, going roundEarnshaw’s seat, and kneeling in the corner beside him.

“Heathcliff did not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated hisfeatures almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone. Hisforehead, that I once thought so manly, and that I now think so diabolical, wasshaded with a heavy cloud; his basilisk eyes were nearly quenched bysleeplessness, and weeping, perhaps, for the lashes were wet then: his lipsdevoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in an expression of unspeakablesadness. Had it been another, I would have covered my face in the presence ofsuch grief. In his case, I was gratified; and, ignoble as it seems toinsult 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 wrongfor wrong.”

“Fie, fie, Miss!” I interrupted. “One might suppose you hadnever opened a Bible in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely thatought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture tohis!”

“In general I’ll allow that it would be, Ellen,” shecontinued; “but what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless Ihave a hand in it? I’d rather he suffered less, if I might causehis sufferings and he might know that I was the cause. Oh, I owe him somuch. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I may take aneye 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 toimplore pardon; and then—why then, Ellen, I might show you somegenerosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and thereforeI cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I handed him a glass, andasked him how he was.

“‘Not as ill as I wish,’ he replied. ‘But leaving outmy arm, every inch of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with a legion ofimps!’

“‘Yes, no wonder,’ was my next remark. ‘Catherine usedto boast that she stood between you and bodily harm: she meant that certainpersons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It’s well peopledon’t really rise from their grave, or, last night, she might havewitnessed a repulsive scene! Are not you bruised, and cut over your chest andshoulders?’

“‘I can’t say,’ he answered; ‘but what do youmean? Did he dare to strike me when I was down?’

“‘He trampled on and kicked you, and dashed you on theground,’ I whispered. ‘And his mouth watered to tear you with histeeth; because he’s only half man: not so much, and the restfiend.’

“Mr. Earnshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe;who, absorbed in his anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him: thelonger he stood, the plainer his reflections revealed their blackness throughhis features.

“‘Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in my lastagony, I’d go to hell with joy,’ groaned the impatient man,writhing to rise, and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy forthe struggle.

“‘Nay, it’s enough that he has murdered one of you,’ Iobserved aloud. ‘At the Grange, every one knows your sister would havebeen living now had it not been for Mr. Heathcliff. After all, it is preferableto be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were—howhappy Catherine was before he came—I’m fit to curse the day.’

“Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, thanthe spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for hiseyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocatingsighs. I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows ofhell 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 ofderision.

“‘Get up, and begone out of my sight,’ said the mourner.

“I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardlyintelligible.

“‘I beg your pardon,’ I replied. ‘But I loved Catherinetoo; 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; andher—’

“‘Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!’ hecried, 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 presenteda similar picture! She wouldn’t have borne your abominablebehaviour quietly: her detestation and disgust must have found voice.’

“The back of the settle and Earnshaw’s person interposed between meand him; so instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner-knifefrom the table and flung it at my head. It struck beneath my ear, and stoppedthe sentence I was uttering; but, pulling it out, I sprang to the door anddelivered another; which I hope went a little deeper than his missile. The lastglimpse I caught of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the embraceof his host; and both fell locked together on the hearth. In my flight throughthe kitchen I bid Joseph speed to his master; I knocked over Hareton, who washanging a litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as asoul 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 thebeacon-light of the Grange. And far rather would I be condemned to a perpetualdwelling in the infernal regions than, even for one night, abide beneath theroof of Wuthering Heights again.”

Isabella ceased speaking, and took a drink of tea; then she rose, and biddingme put on her bonnet, and a great shawl I had brought, and turning a deaf earto my entreaties for her to remain another hour, she stepped on to a chair,kissed Edgar’s and Catherine’s portraits, bestowed a similar saluteon me, and descended to the carriage, accompanied by Fanny, who yelped wildwith joy at recovering her mistress. She was driven away, never to revisit thisneighbourhood: but a regular correspondence was established between her and mymaster 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. Hewas christened Linton, and, from the first, she reported him to be an ailing,peevish creature.

Mr. Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where she lived. Irefused to tell. He remarked that it was not of any moment, only she mustbeware of coming to her brother: she should not be with him, if he had to keepher himself. Though I would give no information, he discovered, through some ofthe 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 hisaversion, I suppose. He often asked about the infant, when he saw me; and onhearing its name, smiled grimly, and observed: “They wish me to hate ittoo, do they?”

“I don’t think they wish you to know anything about it,” Ianswered.

“But I’ll have it,” he said, “when I want it. They mayreckon on that!”

Fortunately its mother died before the time arrived; some thirteen years afterthe decease of Catherine, when Linton was twelve, or a little more.

On the day succeeding Isabella’s unexpected visit I had no opportunity ofspeaking to my master: he shunned conversation, and was fit for discussingnothing. When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased him that his sisterhad left her husband; whom he abhorred with an intensity which the mildness ofhis nature would scarcely seem to allow. So deep and sensitive was hisaversion, that he refrained from going anywhere where he was likely to see orhear of Heathcliff. Grief, and that together, transformed him into a completehermit: he threw up his office of magistrate, ceased even to attend church,avoided the village on all occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusionwithin the limits of his park and grounds; only varied by solitary rambles onthe moors, and visits to the grave of his wife, mostly at evening, or earlymorning before other wanderers were abroad. But he was too good to bethoroughly unhappy long. He didn’t pray for Catherine’s soulto haunt him. Time brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than commonjoy. He recalled her memory with ardent, tender love, and hopeful aspiring tothe better world; where he doubted not she was gone.

And he had earthly consolation and affections also. For a few days, I said, heseemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed: that coldness meltedas fast as snow in April, and ere the tiny thing could stammer a word or tottera step it wielded a despot’s sceptre in his heart. It was namedCatherine; but he never called it the name in full, as he had never called thefirst Catherine short: probably because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. Thelittle 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 toher, far more than from its being his own.

I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplexmyself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in similarcirc*mstances. They had both been fond husbands, and were both attached totheir children; and I could not see how they shouldn’t both have takenthe same road, for good or evil. But, I thought in my mind, Hindley, withapparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and the weakerman. 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 hopefor their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courageof 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 doomedto 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’llthink you will, and that’s the same. The end of Earnshaw was what mighthave been expected; it followed fast on his sister’s: there were scarcelysix months between them. We, at the Grange, never got a very succinct accountof his state preceding it; all that I did learn was on occasion of going to aidin the preparations for the funeral. Mr. Kenneth came to announce the event tomy master.

“Well, Nelly,” said he, riding into the yard one morning, too earlynot to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news, “it’syours and my turn to go into mourning at present. Who’s given us the slipnow, do you think?”

“Who?” I asked in a flurry.

“Why, guess!” he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle ona hook by the door. “And nip up the corner of your apron: I’mcertain you’ll need it.”

“Not Mr. Heathcliff, surely?” I exclaimed.

“What! would you have tears for him?” said the doctor. “No,Heathcliff’s a tough young fellow: he looks blooming to-day. I’vejust seen him. He’s rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his betterhalf.”

“Who is it, then, Mr. Kenneth?” I repeated impatiently.

“Hindley Earnshaw! Your old friend Hindley,” he replied, “andmy 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 hischaracter: drunk as a lord. Poor lad! I’m sorry, too. One can’thelp missing an old companion: though he had the worst tricks with him thatever man imagined, and has done me many a rascally turn. He’s barelytwenty-seven, it seems; that’s your own age: who would have thought youwere born in one year?”

I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton’sdeath: ancient associations lingered round my heart; I sat down in the porchand wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr. Kenneth to get another servantto introduce him to the master. I could not hinder myself from pondering on thequestion—“Had he had fair play?” Whatever I did, that ideawould bother me: it was so tiresomely pertinacious that I resolved onrequesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights, and assist in the last duties tothe dead. Mr. Linton was extremely reluctant to consent, but I pleadedeloquently for the friendless condition in which he lay; and I said my oldmaster 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 heought to and must inquire how the property was left, and look over the concernsof his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to such matters then, but hebid me speak to his lawyer; and at length permitted me to go. His lawyer hadbeen Earnshaw’s also: I called at the village, and asked him to accompanyme. 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 abeggar.

“His father died in debt,” he said; “the whole property ismortgaged, and the sole chance for the natural heir is to allow him anopportunity of creating some interest in the creditor’s heart, that hemay be inclined to deal leniently towards him.”

When I reached the Heights, I explained that I had come to see everythingcarried on decently; and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress, expressedsatisfaction at my presence. Mr. Heathcliff said he did not perceive that I waswanted; but I might stay and order the arrangements for the funeral, if Ichose.

“Correctly,” he remarked, “that fool’s body should beburied at the cross-roads, without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leavehim ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the twodoors of the house against me, and he has spent the night in drinking himselfto death deliberately! We broke in this morning, for we heard him snorting likea horse; and there he was, laid over the settle: flaying and scalping would nothave wakened him. I sent for Kenneth, and he came; but not till the beast hadchanged into carrion: he was both dead and cold, and stark; and so you’llallow 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 sudha’ taen tent o’ t’ maister better nor him—and hewarn’t deead when I left, naught o’ t’ soart!”

I insisted on the funeral being respectable. Mr. Heathcliff said I might havemy own way there too: only, he desired me to remember that the money for thewhole affair came out of his pocket. He maintained a hard, careless deportment,indicative of neither joy nor sorrow: if anything, it expressed a flintygratification at a piece of difficult work successfully executed. I observedonce, indeed, something like exultation in his aspect: it was just when thepeople were bearing the coffin from the house. He had the hypocrisy torepresent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted theunfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto,“Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we’ll see if one treewon’t grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!”The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this speech: he played withHeathcliff’s whiskers, and stroked his cheek; but I divined its meaning,and observed tartly, “That boy must go back with me to ThrushcrossGrange, 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 thesubject now: but I have a fancy to try my hand at rearing a young one; sointimate to your master that I must supply the place of this with my own, if heattempt to remove it. I don’t engage to let Hareton go undisputed; butI’ll be pretty sure to make the other come! Remember to tell him.”

This hint was enough to bind our hands. I repeated its substance on my return;and Edgar Linton, little interested at the commencement, spoke no more ofinterfering. I’m not aware that he could have done it to any purpose, hadhe been ever so willing.

The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights: he held firm possession, andproved to the attorney—who, in his turn, proved it to Mr.Linton—that Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned for cashto supply his mania for gaming; and he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In thatmanner Hareton, who should now be the first gentleman in the neighbourhood, wasreduced to a state of complete dependence on his father’s inveterateenemy; and lives in his own house as a servant, deprived of the advantage ofwages: quite unable to right himself, because of his friendlessness, and hisignorance that he has been wronged.

CHAPTER XVIII

The twelve years, continued Mrs. Dean, following that dismal period were thehappiest of my life: my greatest troubles in their passage rose from our littlelady’s trifling illnesses, which she had to experience in common with allchildren, rich and poor. For the rest, after the first six months, she grewlike a larch, and could walk and talk too, in her own way, before the heathblossomed a second time over Mrs. Linton’s dust. She was the most winningthing that ever brought sunshine into a desolate house: a real beauty in face,with the Earnshaws’ handsome dark eyes, but the Lintons’ fair skinand small features, and yellow curling hair. Her spirit was high, though notrough, and qualified by a heart sensitive and lively to excess in itsaffections. 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, andshe had a gentle voice and pensive expression: her anger was never furious; herlove 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 aperverse will, that indulged children invariably acquire, whether they be goodtempered or cross. If a servant chanced to vex her, it wasalways—“I shall tell papa!” And if he reproved her, even by alook, you would have thought it a heart-breaking business: I don’tbelieve he ever did speak a harsh word to her. He took her education entirelyon himself, and made it an amusem*nt. Fortunately, curiosity and a quickintellect made her an apt scholar: she learned rapidly and eagerly, and didhonour to his teaching.

Till she reached the age of thirteen she had not once been beyond the range ofthe 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 anunsubstantial name in her ears; the chapel, the only building she hadapproached 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 hernursery 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, justlike these.”

“And what are those golden rocks like when you stand under them?”she once asked.

The abrupt descent of Penistone Crags particularly attracted her notice;especially when the setting sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and thewhole extent of landscape besides lay in shadow. I explained that they werebare masses of stone, with hardly enough earth in their clefts to nourish astunted tree.

“And why are they bright so long after it is evening here?” shepursued.

“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 thefrost is always there before it comes to us; and deep into summer I have foundsnow under that black hollow on the north-east side!”

“Oh, you have been on them!” she cried gleefully. “Then I cango, too, when I am a woman. Has papa been, Ellen?”

“Papa would tell you, Miss,” I answered, hastily, “that theyare 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 murmuredto herself. “And I should delight to look round me from the brow of thattallest point: my little pony Minny shall take me some time.”

One of the maids mentioning the Fairy Cave, quite turned her head with a desireto fulfil this project: she teased Mr. Linton about it; and he promised sheshould have the journey when she got older. But Miss Catherine measured her ageby months, and, “Now, am I old enough to go to Penistone Crags?”was the constant question in her mouth. The road thither wound close byWuthering Heights. Edgar had not the heart to pass it; so she received asconstantly the answer, “Not yet, love: not yet.”

I said Mrs. Heathcliff lived above a dozen years after quitting her husband.Her family were of a delicate constitution: she and Edgar both lacked the ruddyhealth 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 theclose. She wrote to inform her brother of the probable conclusion of afour-months’ indisposition under which she had suffered, and entreatedhim to come to her, if possible; for she had much to settle, and she wished tobid him adieu, and deliver Linton safely into his hands. Her hope was thatLinton might be left with him, as he had been with her: his father, she wouldfain convince herself, had no desire to assume the burden of his maintenance oreducation. 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 reiteratedorders that she must not wander out of the park, even under my escort: he didnot calculate on her going unaccompanied.

He was away three weeks. The first day or two my charge sat in a corner of thelibrary, too sad for either reading or playing: in that quiet state she causedme little trouble; but it was succeeded by an interval of impatient, fretfulweariness; and being too busy, and too old then, to run up and down amusingher, I hit on a method by which she might entertain herself. I used to send heron 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 adventureswhen she returned.

The summer shone in full prime; and she took such a taste for this solitaryrambling that she often contrived to remain out from breakfast till tea; andthen the evenings were spent in recounting her fanciful tales. I did not fearher breaking bounds; because the gates were generally locked, and I thought shewould scarcely venture forth alone, if they had stood wide open. Unluckily, myconfidence proved misplaced. Catherine came to me, one morning, at eighto’clock, and said she was that day an Arabian merchant, going to crossthe Desert with his caravan; and I must give her plenty of provision forherself and beasts: a horse, and three camels, personated by a large hound anda couple of pointers. I got together good store of dainties, and slung them ina 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 trottedoff with a merry laugh, mocking my cautious counsel to avoid galloping, andcome back early. The naughty thing never made her appearance at tea. Onetraveller, the hound, being an old dog and fond of its ease, returned; butneither Cathy, nor the pony, nor the two pointers were visible in anydirection: I despatched emissaries down this path, and that path, and at lastwent wandering in search of her myself. There was a labourer working at a fenceround a plantation, on the borders of the grounds. I inquired of him if he hadseen our young lady.

“I saw her at morn,” he replied: “she would have me to cuther 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 musthave started for Penistone Crags. “What will become of her?” Iejacul*ted, pushing through a gap which the man was repairing, and makingstraight to the high-road. I walked as if for a wager, mile after mile, till aturn brought me in view of the Heights; but no Catherine could I detect, far ornear. The Crags lie about a mile and a half beyond Mr. Heathcliff’splace, and that is four from the Grange, so I began to fear night would fallere I could reach them. “And what if she should have slipped inclambering among them,” I reflected, “and been killed, or brokensome of her bones?” My suspense was truly painful; and, at first, it gaveme delightful relief to observe, in hurrying by the farmhouse, Charlie, thefiercest of the pointers, lying under a window, with swelled head and bleedingear. I opened the wicket and ran to the door, knocking vehemently foradmittance. 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 itisn’t the master.”

“He is not at home then, is he?” I panted, quite breathless withquick walking and alarm.

“No, no,” she replied: “both he and Joseph are off, and Ithink they won’t return this hour or more. Step in and rest you abit.”

I entered, and beheld my stray lamb seated on the hearth, rocking herself in alittle chair that had been her mother’s when a child. Her hat was hungagainst the wall, and she seemed perfectly at home, laughing and chattering, inthe best spirits imaginable, to Hareton—now a great, strong lad ofeighteen—who stared at her with considerable curiosity and astonishment:comprehending precious little of the fluent succession of remarks and questionswhich her tongue never ceased pouring forth.

“Very well, Miss!” I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angrycountenance. “This is your last ride, till papa comes back. I’llnot 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 foundme out. Have you ever been here in your life before?”

“Put that hat on, and home at once,” said I. “I’mdreadfully grieved at you, Miss Cathy: you’ve done extremely wrong!It’s no use pouting and crying: that won’t repay the troubleI’ve had, scouring the country after you. To think how Mr. Linton chargedme to keep you in; and you stealing off so! It shows you are a cunning littlefox, and nobody will put faith in you any more.”

“What have I done?” sobbed she, instantly checked. “Papacharged me nothing: he’ll not scold me, Ellen—he’s nevercross, 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 ababy!”

This exclamation was caused by her pushing the hat from her head, andretreating to the chimney out of my reach.

“Nay,” said the servant, “don’t be hard on the bonnylass, 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 heshould: it’s a wild road over the hills.”

Hareton, during the discussion, stood with his hands in his pockets, tooawkward to speak; though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.

“How long am I to wait?” I continued, disregarding thewoman’s interference. “It will be dark in ten minutes. Where is thepony, 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 shutin there. He’s bitten—and so is Charlie. I was going to tell youall about it; but you are in a bad temper, and don’t deserve tohear.”

I picked up her hat, and approached to reinstate it; but perceiving that thepeople of the house took her part, she commenced capering round the room; andon 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, andshe joined them, and waxed more impertinent still; till I cried, in greatirritation,—“Well, Miss Cathy, if you were aware whose house thisis 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 turnedaway.

“Who is his master?” continued the tiresome girl, appealing to me.“He talked about ‘our house,’ and ‘our folk.’ Ithought he had been the owner’s son. And he never said Miss: he shouldhave done, shouldn’t he, if he’s a servant?”

Hareton grew black as a thunder-cloud at this childish speech. I silently shookmy questioner, and at last succeeded in equipping her for departure.

“Now, get my horse,” she said, addressing her unknown kinsman asshe would one of the stable-boys at the Grange. “And you may come withme. I want to see where the goblin-hunter rises in the marsh, and to hear aboutthe fairishes, as you call them: but make haste! What’s thematter? 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,” Iinterposed. “Nice words to be used to a young lady! Pray don’tbegin to dispute with him. Come, let us seek for Minny ourselves, andbegone.”

“But, Ellen,” cried she, staring fixed in astonishment, “howdare he speak so to me? Mustn’t he be made to do as I ask him? You wickedcreature, I shall tell papa what you said.—Now, then!”

Hareton did not appear to feel this threat; so the tears sprang into her eyeswith indignation. “You bring the pony,” she exclaimed, turning tothe woman, “and let my dog free this moment!”

“Softly, Miss,” answered the addressed. “You’ll losenothing by being civil. Though Mr. Hareton, there, be not the master’sson, 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 ingreat trouble. “Papa is gone to fetch my cousin from London: my cousin isa gentleman’s son. That my—” she stopped, and wept outright;upset at the bare notion of relationship with such a clown.

“Hush, hush!” I whispered; “people can have many cousins andof all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only theyneedn’t keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad.”

“He’s not—he’s not my cousin, Ellen!” she wenton, gathering fresh grief from reflection, and flinging herself into my armsfor refuge from the idea.

I was much vexed at her and the servant for their mutual revelations; having nodoubt of Linton’s approaching arrival, communicated by the former, beingreported to Mr. Heathcliff; and feeling as confident that Catherine’sfirst thought on her father’s return would be to seek an explanation ofthe latter’s assertion concerning her rude-bred kindred. Hareton,recovering from his disgust at being taken for a servant, seemed moved by herdistress; and, having fetched the pony round to the door, he took, topropitiate her, a fine crooked-legged terrier whelp from the kennel, andputting it into her hand, bid her whist! for he meant nought. Pausing in herlamentations, she surveyed him with a glance of awe and horror, then burstforth anew.

I could scarcely refrain from smiling at this antipathy to the poor fellow; whowas a well-made, athletic youth, good-looking in features, and stout andhealthy, but attired in garments befitting his daily occupations of working onthe farm and lounging among the moors after rabbits and game. Still, I thoughtI could detect in his physiognomy a mind owning better qualities than hisfather ever possessed. Good things lost amid a wilderness of weeds, to be sure,whose rankness far over-topped their neglected growth; yet, notwithstanding,evidence of a wealthy soil, that might yield luxuriant crops under other andfavourable circ*mstances. Mr. Heathcliff, I believe, had not treated himphysically ill; thanks to his fearless nature, which offered no temptation tothat course of oppression: he had none of the timid susceptibility that wouldhave given zest to ill-treatment, in Heathcliff’s judgment. He appearedto have bent his malevolence on making him a brute: he was never taught to reador write; never rebuked for any bad habit which did not annoy his keeper; neverled 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 anarrow-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 ofaccusing Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, when children, of putting themaster past his patience, and compelling him to seek solace in drink by what hetermed their “offald ways,” so at present he laid the whole burdenof Hareton’s faults on the shoulders of the usurper of his property. Ifthe lad swore, he wouldn’t correct him: nor however culpably he behaved.It gave Joseph satisfaction, apparently, to watch him go the worst lengths: heallowed that the lad was ruined: that his soul was abandoned to perdition; butthen he reflected that Heathcliff must answer for it. Hareton’s bloodwould be required at his hands; and there lay immense consolation in thatthought. Joseph had instilled into him a pride of name, and of his lineage; hewould, had he dared, have fostered hate between him and the present owner ofthe Heights: but his dread of that owner amounted to superstition; and heconfined his feelings regarding him to muttered innuendoes and privatecomminations. I don’t pretend to be intimately acquainted with the modeof living customary in those days at Wuthering Heights: I only speak fromhearsay; for I saw little. The villagers affirmed Mr. Heathcliff wasnear, and a cruel hard landlord to his tenants; but the house, inside,had regained its ancient aspect of comfort under female management, and thescenes of riot common in Hindley’s time were not now enacted within itswalls. The master was too gloomy to seek companionship with any people, good orbad; and he is yet.

This, however, is not making progress with my story. Miss Cathy rejected thepeace-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 outof sorts, every one of us. I could not wring from my little lady how she hadspent the day; except that, as I supposed, the goal of her pilgrimage wasPenistone Crags; and she arrived without adventure to the gate of thefarmhouse, when Hareton happened to issue forth, attended by some caninefollowers, who attacked her train. They had a smart battle, before their ownerscould separate them: that formed an introduction. Catherine told Hareton whoshe 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, andtwenty other queer places. But, being in disgrace, I was not favoured with adescription of the interesting objects she saw. I could gather, however, thather guide had been a favourite till she hurt his feelings by addressing him asa servant; and Heathcliff’s housekeeper hurt hers by calling him hercousin. Then the language he had held to her rankled in her heart; she who wasalways “love,” and “darling,” and “queen,”and “angel,” with everybody at the Grange, to be insulted soshockingly by a stranger! She did not comprehend it; and hard work I had toobtain a promise that she would not lay the grievance before her father. Iexplained how he objected to the whole household at the Heights, and how sorryhe would be to find she had been there; but I insisted most on the fact, thatif she revealed my negligence of his orders, he would perhaps be so angry thatI should have to leave; and Cathy couldn’t bear that prospect: shepledged her word, and kept it for my sake. After all, she was a sweet littlegirl.

CHAPTER XIX

A letter, edged with black, announced the day of my master’s return.Isabella was dead; and he wrote to bid me get mourning for his daughter, andarrange a room, and other accommodations, for his youthful nephew. Catherineran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back; and indulged mostsanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies of her“real” cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came. Sinceearly morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs; and now attiredin her new black frock—poor thing! her aunt’s death impressed herwith no definite sorrow—she obliged me, by constant worrying, to walkwith her down through the grounds to meet them.

“Linton is just six months younger than I am,” she chattered, as westrolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under shadow ofthe trees. “How delightful it will be to have him for a playfellow! AuntIsabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair; it was lighter thanmine—more flaxen, and quite as fine. I have it carefully preserved in alittle glass box; and I’ve often thought what a pleasure it would be tosee its owner. Oh! I am happy—and papa, dear, dear papa! Come, Ellen, letus run! come, run.”

She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footstepsreached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy bank beside thepath, and tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible: she couldn’tbe still a minute.

“How long they are!” she exclaimed. “Ah, I see some dust onthe road—they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go alittle way—half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say yes, to thatclump of birches at the turn!”

I refused staunchly. At length her suspense was ended: the travelling carriagerolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her arms as soon as shecaught her father’s face looking from the window. He descended, nearly aseager as herself; and a considerable interval elapsed ere they had a thought tospare for any but themselves. While they exchanged caresses I took a peep in tosee after Linton. He was asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-linedcloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who mighthave been taken for my master’s younger brother, so strong was theresemblance: but there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Lintonnever had. The latter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised me toclose 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, andthey walked together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare theservants.

“Now, darling,” said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as theyhalted at the bottom of the front steps: “your cousin is not so strong orso merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short timesince; therefore, don’t expect him to play and run about with youdirectly. And don’t harass him much by talking: let him be quiet thisevening, at least, will you?”

“Yes, yes, papa,” answered Catherine: “but I do want to seehim; and he hasn’t once looked out.”

The carriage stopped; and the sleeper being roused, was lifted to the ground byhis uncle.

“This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,” he said, putting their littlehands together. “She’s fond of you already; and mind youdon’t grieve her by crying to-night. Try to be cheerful now; thetravelling is at an end, and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourselfas you please.”

“Let me go to bed, then,” answered the boy, shrinking fromCatherine’s salute; and he put his fingers to his eyes to removeincipient tears.

“Come, come, there’s a good child,” I whispered, leading himin. “You’ll make her weep too—see how sorry she is foryou!”

I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad acountenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered, andmounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to removeLinton’s cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table; but hewas no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired what wasthe 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 fretfulailing charge. Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down. Cathy carried afootstool and her cup to his side. At first she sat silent; but that could notlast: she had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would havehim to be; and she commenced stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, andoffering him tea in her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was notmuch better: he dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.

“Oh, he’ll do very well,” said the master to me, afterwatching them a minute. “Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. Thecompany of a child of his own age will instil new spirit into him soon, and bywishing for strength he’ll gain it.”

“Ay, if we can keep him!” I mused to myself; and sore misgivingscame over me that there was slight hope of that. And then, I thought, how everwill that weakling live at Wuthering Heights? Between his father and Hareton,what playmates and instructors they’ll be. Our doubts were presentlydecided—even earlier than I expected. I had just taken the childrenupstairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linton asleep—he would notsuffer me to leave him till that was the case—I had come down, and wasstanding 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 themaster.

“I shall ask him what he wants first,” I said, in considerabletrepidation. “A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and theinstant they have returned from a long journey. I don’t think the mastercan see him.”

Joseph had advanced through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and nowpresented himself in the hall. He was donned in his Sunday garments, with hismost sanctimonious and sourest face, and, holding his hat in one hand, and hisstick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on the mat.

“Good-evening, Joseph,” I said, coldly. “What business bringsyou here to-night?”

“It’s Maister Linton I mun spake to,” he answered, waving medisdainfully 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 hadbetter sit down in there, and entrust your message to me.”

“Which is his rahm?” pursued the fellow, surveying the range ofclosed doors.

I perceived he was bent on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly I went upto the library, and announced the unseasonable visitor, advising that he shouldbe dismissed till next day. Mr. Linton had no time to empower me to do so, forJoseph mounted close at my heels, and, pushing into the apartment, plantedhimself at the far side of the table, with his two fists clapped on the head ofhis stick, and began in an elevated tone, as if anticipating opposition—

“Hathecliff has sent me for his lad, and I munn’t goa back’bout him.”

Edgar Linton was silent a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrow overcasthis features: he would have pitied the child on his own account; but, recallingIsabella’s hopes and fears, and anxious wishes for her son, and hercommendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly at the prospect ofyielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might be avoided. No planoffered itself: the very exhibition of any desire to keep him would haverendered the claimant more peremptory: there was nothing left but to resignhim. However, he was not going to rouse him from his sleep.

“Tell Mr. Heathcliff,” he answered calmly, “that his sonshall come to Wuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed, and too tired to gothe distance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desired himto remain under my guardianship; and, at present, his health is veryprecarious.”

“Noa!” said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, andassuming an authoritative air. “Noa! that means naught. Hathecliff maksnoa ’count o’ t’ mother, nor ye norther; but he’llhev his lad; und I mun tak’ him—soa now ye knaw!”

“You shall not to-night!” answered Linton decisively. “Walkdown stairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, showhim down. Go—”

And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of himand closed the door.

“Varrah weell!” shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off.“To-morn, he’s come hisseln, and thrust him out, if yedarr!”

CHAPTER XX

To obviate the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton commissionedme to take the boy home early, on Catherine’s pony; and, saidhe—“As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good orbad, you must say nothing of where he is gone to my daughter: she cannotassociate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain in ignoranceof his proximity; lest she should be restless, and anxious to visit theHeights. Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and he has beenobliged to leave us.”

Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o’clock, andastonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling; but Isoftened off the matter by stating that he was going to spend some time withhis father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he did not like todefer the pleasure till he should recover from his late journey.

“My father!” he cried, in strange perplexity. “Mamma nevertold me I had a father. Where does he live? I’d rather stay withuncle.”

“He lives a little distance from the Grange,” I replied;“just beyond those hills: not so far, but you may walk over here when youget hearty. And you should be glad to go home, and to see him. You must try tolove him, as you did your mother, and then he will love you.”

“But why have I not heard of him before?” asked Linton. “Whydidn’t mamma and he live together, as other people do?”

“He had business to keep him in the north,” I answered, “andyour mother’s health required her to reside in the south.”

“And why didn’t mamma speak to me about him?” persevered thechild. “She often talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago. Howam 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 toyou. Let us make haste. An early ride on such a beautiful morning is muchpreferable to an hour’s more sleep.”

“Is she to go with us,” he demanded, “the little girlI 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: “Ican’t tell where you mean to take me.”

I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meethis father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and Ihad to call for my master’s assistance in coaxing him out of bed. Thepoor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that hisabsence should be short: that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and otherpromises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated at intervalsthroughout the way. The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and thegentle canter of Minny, relieved his despondency after a while. He began to putquestions concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interestand liveliness.

“Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange?”he inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mistmounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.

“It is not so buried in trees,” I replied, “and it is notquite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the airis healthier for you—fresher and drier. You will, perhaps, think thebuilding old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house: the next bestin the neighbourhood. And you will have such nice rambles on the moors. HaretonEarnshaw—that is, Miss Cathy’s other cousin, and so yours in amanner—will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book infine weather, and make a green hollow your study; and, now and then, your unclemay 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 andhandsome as uncle?”

“He’s as young,” said I; “but he has black hair andeyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether. He’llnot seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not hisway: still, mind you, be frank and cordial with him; and naturally he’llbe fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own.”

“Black hair and eyes!” mused Linton. “I can’t fancyhim. Then I am not like him, am I?”

“Not much,” I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying withregret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his largelanguid eyes—his mother’s eyes, save that, unless a morbidtouchiness kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparklingspirit.

“How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!” hemurmured. “Has he ever seen me? If he has, I must have been a baby. Iremember not a single thing about him!”

“Why, Master Linton,” said I, “three hundred miles is a greatdistance; and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up personcompared with what they do to you. It is probable Mr. Heathcliff proposed goingfrom summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity; and now it istoo late. Don’t trouble him with questions on the subject: it willdisturb him, for no good.”

The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of theride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden-gate. I watched to catch hisimpressions in his countenance. He surveyed the carved front and low-browedlattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked firs, with solemnintentness, and then shook his head: his private feelings entirely disapprovedof 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 thedoor. It was half-past six; the family had just finished breakfast: the servantwas clearing and wiping down the table. Joseph stood by his master’schair telling some tale concerning a lame horse; and Hareton was preparing forthe hayfield.

“Hallo, Nelly!” said Mr. Heathcliff, when he saw me. “Ifeared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself. You’vebrought 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 gapingcuriosity. Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the three.

“Sure-ly,” said Joseph after a grave inspection, “he’sswopped wi’ ye, Maister, an’ yon’s his lass!”

Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of confusion, uttered a scornfullaugh.

“God! what a beauty! what a lovely, charming thing!” he exclaimed.“Hav’n’t they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly? Oh,damn my soul! but that’s worse than I expected—and the devil knowsI was not sanguine!”

I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down, and enter. He did notthoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father’s speech, or whether itwere intended for him: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneeringstranger was his father. But he clung to me with growing trepidation; and onMr. 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 himroughly 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, felthis slender arms and his small fingers; during which examination Linton ceasedcrying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector.

“Do you know me?” asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself thatthe limbs were all equally frail and feeble.

“No,” said Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear.

“You’ve heard of me, I daresay?”

“No,” he replied again.

“No! What a shame of your mother, never to waken your filial regard forme! You are my son, then, I’ll tell you; and your mother was a wickedslu*t 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 havenot white blood. Be a good lad; and I’ll do for you. Nelly, if you betired you may sit down; if not, get home again. I guess you’ll reportwhat you hear and see to the cipher at the Grange; and this thing won’tbe 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 haveakin in the wide world, that you will ever know—remember.”

“I’ll be very kind to him, you needn’t fear,” hesaid, laughing. “Only nobody else must be kind to him: I’m jealousof monopolising his affection. And, to begin my kindness, Joseph, bring the ladsome breakfast. Hareton, you infernal calf, begone to your work. Yes,Nell,” he added, when they had departed, “my son is prospectiveowner of your place, and I should not wish him to die till I was certain ofbeing his successor. Besides, he’s mine, and I want the triumph ofseeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring theirchildren to till their fathers’ lands for wages. That is the soleconsideration 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 mastertends 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 twentymiles’ distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn. I’veordered Hareton to obey him: and in fact I’ve arranged everything with aview to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above his associates. Ido regret, however, that he so little deserves the trouble: if I wished anyblessing in the world, it was to find him a worthy object of pride; andI’m bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced, whining wretch!”

While he was speaking, Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk-porridge, andplaced it before Linton: who stirred round the homely mess with a look ofaversion, and affirmed he could not eat it. I saw the old man-servant sharedlargely in his master’s scorn of the child; though he was compelled toretain the sentiment in his heart, because Heathcliff plainly meant hisunderlings to hold him in honour.

“Cannot ate it?” repeated he, peering in Linton’s face, andsubduing his voice to a whisper, for fear of being overheard. “ButMaister Hareton nivir ate naught else, when he wer a little ’un; and whatwer gooid eneugh for him’s gooid eneugh for ye, I’s raytherthink!”

“I sha’n’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 thetray under Heathcliff’s nose.

“What should ail them?” he said.

“Wah!” answered Joseph, “yon dainty chap says he cannut ate’em. But I guess it’s raight! His mother wer just soa—we wera’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 usualfood, Nelly?”

I suggested boiled milk or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions toprepare some. Come, I reflected, his father’s selfishness may contributeto his comfort. He perceives his delicate constitution, and the necessity oftreating him tolerably. I’ll console Mr. Edgar by acquainting him withthe turn Heathcliff’s humour has taken. Having no excuse for lingeringlonger, I slipped out, while Linton was engaged in timidly rebuffing theadvances of a friendly sheep-dog. But he was too much on the alert to becheated: as I closed the door, I heard a cry, and a frantic repetition of thewords—

“Don’t leave me! I’ll not stay here! I’ll not stayhere!”

Then the latch was raised and fell: they did not suffer him to come forth. Imounted Minny, and urged her to a trot; and so my brief guardianship ended.

CHAPTER XXI

We had sad work with little Cathy that day: she rose in high glee, eager tojoin her cousin, and such passionate tears and lamentations followed the newsof his departure that Edgar himself was obliged to soothe her, by affirming heshould come back soon: he added, however, “if I can get him”; andthere were no hopes of that. This promise poorly pacified her; but time wasmore potent; and though still at intervals she inquired of her father whenLinton would return, before she did see him again his features had waxed so dimin her memory that she did not recognise him.

When I chanced to encounter the housekeeper of Wuthering Heights, in payingbusiness visits to Gimmerton, I used to ask how the young master got on; for helived almost as secluded as Catherine herself, and was never to be seen. Icould gather from her that he continued in weak health, and was a tiresomeinmate. 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 ofhis voice, and could not do at all with his sitting in the same room with himmany minutes together. There seldom passed much talk between them: Lintonlearnt his lessons and spent his evenings in a small apartment they called theparlour: or else lay in bed all day: for he was constantly getting coughs, andcolds, 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 thewindow open a bit late in the evening. Oh! it’s killing, a breath ofnight air! And he must have a fire in the middle of summer; and Joseph’sbacca-pipe is poison; and he must always have sweets and dainties, and alwaysmilk, milk for ever—heeding naught how the rest of us are pinched inwinter; and there he’ll sit, wrapped in his furred cloak in his chair bythe fire, with some toast and water or other slop on the hob to sip at; and ifHareton, for pity, comes to amuse him—Hareton is not bad-natured, thoughhe’s rough—they’re sure to part, one swearing and the othercrying. I believe the master would relish Earnshaw’s thrashing him to amummy, if he were not his son; and I’m certain he would be fit to turnhim out of doors, if he knew half the nursing he gives hisseln. But then hewon’t go into danger of temptation: he never enters the parlour, andshould Linton show those ways in the house where he is, he sends him upstairsdirectly.”

I divined, from this account, that utter lack of sympathy had rendered youngHeathcliff selfish and disagreeable, if he were not so originally; and myinterest in him, consequently, decayed: though still I was moved with a senseof grief at his lot, and a wish that he had been left with us. Mr. Edgarencouraged 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 thehousekeeper whether he ever came into the village? She said he had only beentwice, on horseback, accompanying his father; and both times he pretended to bequite knocked up for three or four days afterwards. That housekeeper left, if Irecollect 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 reachedsixteen. On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs ofrejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress’sdeath. Her father invariably spent that day alone in the library; and walked,at dusk, as far as Gimmerton kirkyard, where he would frequently prolong hisstay beyond midnight. Therefore Catherine was thrown on her own resources foramusem*nt. This twentieth of March was a beautiful spring day, and when herfather had retired, my young lady came down dressed for going out, and said sheasked to have a ramble on the edge of the moor with me: Mr. Linton had givenher 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 togo; where a colony of moor-game are settled: I want to see whether they havemade their nests yet.”

“That must be a good distance up,” I answered; “theydon’t breed on the edge of the moor.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “I’ve gone very nearwith papa.”

I put on my bonnet and sallied out, thinking nothing more of the matter. Shebounded before me, and returned to my side, and was off again like a younggreyhound; and, at first, I found plenty of entertainment in listening to thelarks singing far and near, and enjoying the sweet, warm sunshine; and watchingher, my pet and my delight, with her golden ringlets flying loose behind, andher bright cheek, as soft and pure in its bloom as a wild rose, and her eyesradiant with cloudless pleasure. She was a happy creature, and an angel, inthose days. It’s a pity she could not be content.

“Well,” said I, “where are your moor-game, Miss Cathy? Weshould be at them: the Grange park-fence is a great way off now.”

“Oh, a little further—only a little further, Ellen,” was heranswer, continually. “Climb to that hillock, pass that bank, and by thetime 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, Ibegan to be weary, and told her we must halt, and retrace our steps. I shoutedto her, as she had outstripped me a long way; she either did not hear or didnot 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 twomiles nearer Wuthering Heights than her own home; and I beheld a couple ofpersons arrest her, one of whom I felt convinced was Mr. Heathcliff himself.

Cathy had been caught in the fact of plundering, or, at least, hunting out thenests of the grouse. The Heights were Heathcliff’s land, and he wasreproving the poacher.

“I’ve neither taken any nor found any,” she said, as I toiledto them, expanding her hands in corroboration of the statement. “Ididn’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 acquaintancewith the party, and, consequently, his malevolence towards it, and demanded who“papa” was?

“Mr. Linton of Thrushcross Grange,” she replied. “I thoughtyou did not know me, or you wouldn’t have spoken in that way.”

“You suppose papa is highly esteemed and respected, then?” he said,sarcastically.

“And what are you?” inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on thespeaker. “That man I’ve seen before. Is he your son?”

She pointed to Hareton, the other individual, who had gained nothing butincreased bulk and strength by the addition of two years to his age: he seemedas awkward and rough as ever.

“Miss Cathy,” I interrupted, “it will be three hours insteadof one that we are out, presently. We really must go back.”

“No, that man is not my son,” answered Heathcliff, pushing measide. “But I have one, and you have seen him before too; and, thoughyour nurse is in a hurry, I think both you and she would be the better for alittle 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 kindwelcome.”

I whispered Catherine that she mustn’t, on any account, accede to theproposal: it was entirely out of the question.

“Why?” she asked, aloud. “I’m tired of running, and theground is dewy: I can’t sit here. Let us go, Ellen. Besides, he says Ihave seen his son. He’s mistaken, I think; but I guess where he lives: atthe farmhouse I visited in coming from Penistone Crags. Don’t you?”

“I do. Come, Nelly, hold your tongue—it will be a treat for her tolook 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, strugglingto release my arm, which he had seized: but she was almost at the door-stonesalready, scampering round the brow at full speed. Her appointed companion didnot pretend to escort her: he shied off by the road-side, and vanished.

“Mr. Heathcliff, it’s very wrong,” I continued: “youknow you mean no good. And there she’ll see Linton, and all will be toldas soon as ever we return; and I shall have the blame.”

“I want her to see Linton,” he answered; “he’s lookingbetter these few days; it’s not often he’s fit to be seen. Andwe’ll soon persuade her to keep the visit secret: where is the harm ofit?”

“The harm of it is, that her father would hate me if he found I sufferedher to enter your house; and I am convinced you have a bad design inencouraging her to do so,” I replied.

“My design is as honest as possible. I’ll inform you of its wholescope,” he said. “That the two cousins may fall in love, and getmarried. I’m acting generously to your master: his young chit has noexpectations, and should she second my wishes she’ll be provided for atonce as joint successor with Linton.”

“If Linton died,” I answered, “and his life is quiteuncertain, Catherine would be the heir.”

“No, she would not,” he said. “There is no clause in the willto secure it so: his property would go to me; but, to prevent disputes, Idesire their union, and am resolved to bring it about.”

“And I’m resolved she shall never approach your house with meagain,” I returned, as we reached the gate, where Miss Cathy waited ourcoming.

Heathcliff bade me be quiet; and, preceding us up the path, hastened to openthe door. My young lady gave him several looks, as if she could not exactlymake 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 imaginethe memory of her mother might disarm him from desiring her injury. Lintonstood 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 hisage, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty yet, andhis eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merelytemporary 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 andthen the other.

“Yes, yes,” answered he: “but is this the only time you havebeheld him? Think! Ah! you have a short memory. Linton, don’t you recallyour cousin, that you used to tease us so with wishing to see?”

“What, Linton!” cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at thename. “Is that little Linton? He’s taller than I am! Are youLinton?”

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 ofeach. Catherine had reached her full height; her figure was both plump andslender, elastic as steel, and her whole aspect sparkling with health andspirits. Linton’s looks and movements were very languid, and his formextremely slight; but there was a grace in his manner that mitigated thesedefects, and rendered him not unpleasing. After exchanging numerous marks offondness 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’tyou visit at the Grange with Linton? To live all these years such closeneighbours, and never see us, is odd: what have you done so for?”

“I visited it once or twice too often before you were born,” heanswered. “There—damn it! If you have any kisses to spare, givethem to Linton: they are thrown away on me.”

“Naughty Ellen!” exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next withher lavish caresses. “Wicked Ellen! to try to hinder me from entering.But I’ll take this walk every morning in future: may I, uncle? andsometimes 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. “Butstay,” he continued, turning towards the young lady. “Now I thinkof it, I’d better tell you. Mr. Linton has a prejudice against me: wequarrelled at one time of our lives, with unchristian ferocity; and, if youmention 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 yourcousin hereafter: you may come, if you will, but you must not mentionit.”

“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’llnever forgive it.”

“That’s wrong!” said the young lady: “some timeI’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 walkfour miles would kill me. No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then: notevery 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, andsend 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 haveloved the lad had he been some one else. But I think he’s safe fromher love. I’ll pit him against that paltry creature, unless itbestir 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 neverlooks at her.—Linton!”

“Yes, father,” answered the boy.

“Have you nothing to show your cousin anywhere about, not even a rabbitor a weasel’s nest? Take her into the garden, before you change yourshoes; and into the stable to see your horse.”

“Wouldn’t you rather sit here?” asked Linton, addressingCathy in a tone which expressed reluctance to move again.

“I don’t know,” she replied, casting a longing look to thedoor, and evidently eager to be active.

He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire. Heathcliff rose, and went intothe kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out for Hareton. Haretonresponded, and presently the two re-entered. The young man had been washinghimself, 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’tyou like him?”

Catherine looked queer.

“Is he not a handsome lad?” he continued.

The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence inHeathcliff’s ear. He laughed; Hareton darkened: I perceived he was verysensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion of hisinferiority. But his master or guardian chased the frown by exclaiming—

“You’ll be the favourite among us, Hareton! She says you area—What was it? Well, something very flattering. Here! you go with herround the farm. And behave like a gentleman, mind! Don’t use any badwords; and don’t stare when the young lady is not looking at you, and beready to hide your face when she is; and, when you speak, say your wordsslowly, and keep your hands out of your pockets. Be off, and entertain her asnicely as you can.”

He watched the couple walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenancecompletely averted from his companion. He seemed studying the familiarlandscape with a stranger’s and an artist’s interest. Catherinetook a sly look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned herattention to seeking out objects of amusem*nt for herself, and tripped merrilyon, 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, yourecollect me at his age—nay, some years younger. Did I ever look sostupid: 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 notenjoy it half so much. But he’s no fool; and I can sympathise with allhis feelings, having felt them myself. I know what he suffers now, forinstance, 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 andignorance. I’ve got him faster than his scoundrel of a father secured me,and lower; for he takes a pride in his brutishness. I’ve taught him toscorn everything extra-animal as silly and weak. Don’t you think Hindleywould be proud of his son, if he could see him? almost as proud as I am ofmine. But there’s this difference; one is gold put to the use ofpaving-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 makingit 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 toregret; he would have more than any, but I, are aware of. And the bestof it is, Hareton is damnably fond of me! You’ll own that I’veoutmatched Hindley there. If the dead villain could rise from his grave toabuse me for his offspring’s wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing thesaid offspring fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail atthe one friend he has in the world!”

Heathcliff chuckled a fiendish laugh at the idea. I made no reply, because Isaw that he expected none. Meantime, our young companion, who sat too removedfrom us to hear what was said, began to evince symptoms of uneasiness, probablyrepenting that he had denied himself the treat of Catherine’s society forfear of a little fatigue. His father remarked the restless glances wandering tothe 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 ofhives.”

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 wasthat inscription over the door? Hareton stared up, and scratched his head likea true clown.

“It’s some damnable writing,” he answered. “I cannotread 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. “Couldyou believe in the existence of such a colossal dunce?”

“Is he all as he should be?” asked Miss Cathy, seriously; “oris he simple: not right? I’ve questioned him twice now, and each time helooked so stupid I think he does not understand me. I can hardly understandhim, I’m sure!”

Linton repeated his laugh, and glanced at Hareton tauntingly; who certainly didnot 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 youexperience the consequence of scorning ‘book-larning,’ as you wouldsay. Have you noticed, Catherine, his frightful Yorkshire pronunciation?”

“Why, where the devil is the use on’t?” growled Hareton, moreready in answering his daily companion. He was about to enlarge further, butthe two youngsters broke into a noisy fit of merriment: my giddy miss beingdelighted to discover that she might turn his strange talk to matter ofamusem*nt.

“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 yourmouth without one. Do try to behave like a gentleman, now do!”

“If thou weren’t more a lass than a lad, I’d fell thee thisminute, I would; pitiful lath of a crater!” retorted the angry boor,retreating, while his face burnt with mingled rage and mortification; for hewas conscious of being insulted, and embarrassed how to resent it.

Mr. Heathcliff having overheard the conversation, as well as I, smiled when hesaw him go; but immediately afterwards cast a look of singular aversion on theflippant pair, who remained chattering in the doorway: the boy findinganimation enough while discussing Hareton’s faults and deficiencies, andrelating anecdotes of his goings on; and the girl relishing his pert andspiteful sayings, without considering the ill-nature they evinced. I began todislike, more than to compassionate Linton, and to excuse his father in somemeasure for holding him cheap.

We stayed till afternoon: I could not tear Miss Cathy away sooner; but happilymy master had not quitted his apartment, and remained ignorant of our prolongedabsence. As we walked home, I would fain have enlightened my charge on thecharacters of the people we had quitted: but she got it into her head that Iwas prejudiced against them.

“Aha!” she cried, “you take papa’s side, Ellen: you arepartial I know; or else you wouldn’t have cheated me so many years intothe notion that Linton lived a long way from here. I’m really extremelyangry; only I’m so pleased I can’t show it! But you must hold yourtongue about my uncle; he’s my uncle, remember; and I’llscold papa for quarrelling with him.”

And so she ran on, till I relinquished the endeavour to convince her of hermistake. 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 notaltogether sorry: I thought the burden of directing and warning would be moreefficiently borne by him than me. But he was too timid in giving satisfactoryreasons for his wish that she should shun connection with the household of theHeights, and Catherine liked good reasons for every restraint that harassed herpetted will.

“Papa!” she exclaimed, after the morning’s salutations,“guess whom I saw yesterday, in my walk on the moors. Ah, papa, youstarted! 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 alwaysdisappointed about Linton’s coming back!”

She gave a faithful account of her excursion and its consequences; and mymaster, though he cast more than one reproachful look at me, said nothing tillshe had concluded. Then he drew her to him, and asked if she knew why he hadconcealed Linton’s near neighbourhood from her? Could she think it was todeny 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 slightestopportunity. I knew that you could not keep up an acquaintance with your cousinwithout being brought into contact with him; and I knew he would detest you onmy account; so for your own good, and nothing else, I took precautions that youshould not see Linton again. I meant to explain this some time as you grewolder, 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 seeingeach other: he said I might come to his house when I pleased; only I must nottell you, because you had quarrelled with him, and would not forgive him formarrying aunt Isabella. And you won’t. You are the one to beblamed: he is willing to let us be friends, at least; Linton and I; andyou are not.”

My master, perceiving that she would not take his word for heruncle-in-law’s evil disposition, gave a hasty sketch of his conduct toIsabella, and the manner in which Wuthering Heights became his property. Hecould not bear to discourse long upon the topic; for though he spoke little ofit, he still felt the same horror and detestation of his ancient enemy that hadoccupied his heart ever since Mrs. Linton’s death. “She might havebeen living yet, if it had not been for him!” was his constant bitterreflection; and, in his eyes, Heathcliff seemed a murderer. MissCathy—conversant with no bad deeds except her own slight acts ofdisobedience, injustice, and passion, arising from hot temper andthoughtlessness, and repented of on the day they were committed—wasamazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood on and cover revenge foryears, and deliberately prosecute its plans without a visitation of remorse.She appeared so deeply impressed and shocked at this new view of humannature—excluded from all her studies and all her ideas tillnow—that Mr. Edgar deemed it unnecessary to pursue the subject. He merelyadded: “You will know hereafter, darling, why I wish you to avoid hishouse and family; now return to your old employments and amusem*nts, and thinkno more about them.”

Catherine kissed her father, and sat down quietly to her lessons for a coupleof hours, according to custom; then she accompanied him into the grounds, andthe whole day passed as usual: but in the evening, when she had retired to herroom, and I went to help her to undress, I found her crying, on her knees bythe bedside.

“Oh, fie, silly child!” I exclaimed. “If you had any realgriefs you’d be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrariety. Younever had one shadow of substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine. Suppose, for aminute, that master and I were dead, and you were by yourself in the world: howwould you feel, then? Compare the present occasion with such an affliction asthat, and be thankful for the friends you have, instead of covetingmore.”

“I’m not crying for myself, Ellen,” she answered,“it’s for him. He expected to see me again to-morrow, and therehe’ll be so disappointed: and he’ll wait for me, and Isha’n’t come!”

“Nonsense!” said I, “do you imagine he has thought as much ofyou as you have of him? Hasn’t he Hareton for a companion? Not one in ahundred would weep at losing a relation they had just seen twice, for twoafternoons. Linton will conjecture how it is, and trouble himself no furtherabout you.”

“But may I not write a note to tell him why I cannot come?” sheasked, rising to her feet. “And just send those books I promised to lendhim? 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 hewould write to you, and there’d never be an end of it. No, MissCatherine, the acquaintance must be dropped entirely: so papa expects, and Ishall see that it is done.”

“But how can one little note—?” she recommenced, putting onan imploring countenance.

“Silence!” I interrupted. “We’ll not begin with yourlittle notes. Get into bed.”

She threw at me a very naughty look, so naughty that I would not kiss hergood-night at first: I covered her up, and shut her door, in great displeasure;but, repenting half-way, I returned softly, and lo! there was Miss standing atthe table with a bit of blank paper before her and a pencil in her hand, whichshe 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 handand a petulant “cross thing!” I then quitted her again, and shedrew the bolt in one of her worst, most peevish humours. The letter wasfinished and forwarded to its destination by a milk-fetcher who came from thevillage; but that I didn’t learn till some time afterwards. Weeks passedon, and Cathy recovered her temper; though she grew wondrous fond of stealingoff to corners by herself; and often, if I came near her suddenly whilereading, 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 alsogot a trick of coming down early in the morning and lingering about thekitchen, as if she were expecting the arrival of something; and she had a smalldrawer in a cabinet in the library, which she would trifle over for hours, andwhose key she took special care to remove when she left it.

One day, as she inspected this drawer, I observed that the playthings andtrinkets which recently formed its contents were transmuted into bits of foldedpaper. My curiosity and suspicions were roused; I determined to take a peep ather mysterious treasures; so, at night, as soon as she and my master were safeupstairs, I searched, and readily found among my house keys one that would fitthe lock. Having opened, I emptied the whole contents into my apron, and tookthem with me to examine at leisure in my own chamber. Though I could not butsuspect, I was still surprised to discover that they were a mass ofcorrespondence—daily almost, it must have been—from LintonHeathcliff: answers to documents forwarded by her. The earlier dated wereembarrassed and short; gradually, however, they expanded into copiouslove-letters, foolish, as the age of the writer rendered natural, yet withtouches here and there which I thought were borrowed from a more experiencedsource. Some of them struck me as singularly odd compounds of ardour andflatness; commencing in strong feeling, and concluding in the affected, wordystyle that a schoolboy might use to a fancied, incorporeal sweetheart. Whetherthey satisfied Cathy I don’t know; but they appeared very worthless trashto me. After turning over as many as I thought proper, I tied them in ahandkerchief and set them aside, relocking the vacant drawer.

Following her habit, my young lady descended early, and visited the kitchen: Iwatched her go to the door, on the arrival of a certain little boy; and, whilethe dairymaid filled his can, she tucked something into his jacket pocket, andplucked something out. I went round by the garden, and laid wait for themessenger; who fought valorously to defend his trust, and we spilt the milkbetween us; but I succeeded in abstracting the epistle; and, threateningserious consequences if he did not look sharp home, I remained under the walland perused Miss Cathy’s affectionate composition. It was more simple andmore eloquent than her cousin’s: very pretty and very silly. I shook myhead, and went meditating into the house. The day being wet, she could notdivert herself with rambling about the park; so, at the conclusion of hermorning studies, she resorted to the solace of the drawer. Her father satreading at the table; and I, on purpose, had sought a bit of work in someunripped fringes of the window-curtain, keeping my eye steadily fixed on herproceedings. Never did any bird flying back to a plundered nest, which it hadleft brimful of chirping young ones, express more complete despair, in itsanguished cries and flutterings, than she by her single “Oh!” andthe 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 thehoard.

“No, papa!” she gasped. “Ellen! Ellen! comeupstairs—I’m sick!”

I obeyed her summons, and accompanied her out.

“Oh, Ellen! you have got them,” she commenced immediately, droppingon her knees, when we were enclosed alone. “Oh, give them to me, andI’ll never, never do so again! Don’t tell papa. You have not toldpapa, Ellen? say you have not? I’ve been exceedingly naughty, but Iwon’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 inyour leisure hours, to be sure: why, it’s good enough to be printed! Andwhat do you suppose the master will think when I display it before him? Ihav’n’t shown it yet, but you needn’t imagine I shall keepyour ridiculous secrets. For shame! and you must have led the way in writingsuch absurdities: he would not have thought of beginning, I’mcertain.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t!” sobbed Cathy, fit to break herheart. “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 talkof 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 yourlife! 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 thenshe poured out further frantic entreaties that I would burn them—doanything rather than show them. And being really fully as much inclined tolaugh as scold—for I esteemed it all girlish vanity—I at lengthrelented in a measure, and asked,—“If I consent to burn them, willyou 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, norplaythings?”

“We don’t send playthings,” cried Catherine, her prideovercoming her shame.

“Nor anything at all, then, my lady?” I said. “Unless youwill, here I go.”

“I promise, Ellen!” she cried, catching my dress. “Oh, putthem in the fire, do, do!”

But when I proceeded to open a place with the poker the sacrifice was toopainful to be borne. She earnestly supplicated that I would spare her one ortwo.

“One or two, Ellen, to keep for Linton’s sake!”

I unknotted the handkerchief, and commenced dropping them in from an angle, andthe flame curled up the chimney.

“I will have one, you cruel wretch!” she screamed, darting her handinto the fire, and drawing forth some half-consumed fragments, at the expenseof her fingers.

“Very well—and I will have some to exhibit to papa!” Ianswered, 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 theimmolation. It was done; I stirred up the ashes, and interred them under ashovelful of coals; and she mutely, and with a sense of intense injury, retiredto her private apartment. I descended to tell my master that the younglady’s qualm of sickness was almost gone, but I judged it best for her tolie down a while. She wouldn’t dine; but she reappeared at tea, pale, andred about the eyes, and marvellously subdued in outward aspect. Next morning Ianswered the letter by a slip of paper, inscribed, “Master Heathcliff isrequested to send no more notes to Miss Linton, as she will not receivethem.” And, thenceforth, the little boy came with vacant pockets.

CHAPTER XXII

Summer drew to an end, and early autumn: it was past Michaelmas, but theharvest 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 thecarrying of the last sheaves they stayed till dusk, and the evening happeningto be chill and damp, my master caught a bad cold, that settled obstinately onhis lungs, and confined him indoors throughout the whole of the winter, nearlywithout intermission.

Poor Cathy, frightened from her little romance, had been considerably sadderand 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 aduty to supply its lack, as much as possible, with mine: an inefficientsubstitute; for I could only spare two or three hours, from my numerous diurnaloccupations, to follow her footsteps, and then my society was obviously lessdesirable than his.

On an afternoon in October, or the beginning of November—a fresh wateryafternoon, 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 myyoung 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 astroll to the bottom of the park: a formal walk which she generally affected iflow-spirited—and that she invariably was when Mr. Edgar had been worsethan ordinary, a thing never known from his confession, but guessed both by herand me from his increased silence and the melancholy of his countenance. Shewent sadly on: there was no running or bounding now, though the chill windmight well have tempted her to race. And often, from the side of my eye, Icould detect her raising a hand, and brushing something off her cheek. I gazedround for a means of diverting her thoughts. On one side of the road rose ahigh, 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 windshad blown some nearly horizontal. In summer Miss Catherine delighted to climbalong these trunks, and sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet above theground; and I, pleased with her agility and her light, childish heart, stillconsidered it proper to scold every time I caught her at such an elevation, butso that she knew there was no necessity for descending. From dinner to tea shewould lie in her breeze-rocked cradle, doing nothing except singing oldsongs—my nursery lore—to herself, or watching the birds, jointtenants, 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 ofone twisted tree. “Winter is not here yet. There’s a little flowerup yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded those turfsteps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up, and pluck it to show topapa?”

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 looksmelancholy, 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 solow, I daresay I shall keep up with you.”

“No,” she repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing atintervals to muse over a bit of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or a fungusspreading its bright orange among the heaps of brown foliage; and, ever andanon, her hand was lifted to her averted face.

“Catherine, why are you crying, love?” I asked, approaching andputting my arm over her shoulder. “You mustn’t cry because papa hasa 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 whatshall I do when papa and you leave me, and I am by myself? I can’t forgetyour words, Ellen; they are always in my ear. How life will be changed, howdreary 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 yearsand years to come before any of us go: master is young, and I am strong, andhardly forty-five. My mother lived till eighty, a canty dame to the last. Andsuppose Mr. Linton were spared till he saw sixty, that would be more years thanyou have counted, Miss. And would it not be foolish to mourn a calamity abovetwenty years beforehand?”

“But Aunt Isabella was younger than papa,” she remarked, gazing upwith 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 livefor. All you need do, is to wait well on your father, and cheer him by lettinghim 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 andreckless, and cherished a foolish, fanciful affection for the son of a personwho would be glad to have him in his grave; and allowed him to discover thatyou 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. AndI’ll never—never—oh, never, while I have my senses, do an actor say a word to vex him. I love him better than myself, Ellen; and I know itby this: I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would ratherbe miserable than that he should be: that proves I love him better thanmyself.”

“Good words,” I replied. “But deeds must prove it also; andafter he is well, remember you don’t forget resolutions formed in thehour 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 thewall, reaching over to gather some hips that bloomed scarlet on the summitbranches of the wild-rose trees shadowing the highway side: the lower fruit haddisappeared, but only birds could touch the upper, except from Cathy’spresent station. In stretching to pull them, her hat fell off; and as the doorwas locked, she proposed scrambling down to recover it. I bid her be cautiouslest she got a fall, and she nimbly disappeared. But the return was no sucheasy matter: the stones were smooth and neatly cemented, and the rosebushesand blackberry stragglers could yield no assistance in re-ascending. I, like afool, didn’t recollect that, till I heard her laughing andexclaiming—“Ellen! you’ll have to fetch the key, or else Imust run round to the porter’s lodge. I can’t scale the ramparts onthis side!”

“Stay where you are,” I answered; “I have my bundle of keysin 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 triedall the large keys in succession. I had applied the last, and found that nonewould do; so, repeating my desire that she would remain there, I was about tohurry home as fast as I could, when an approaching sound arrested me. It wasthe trot of a horse; Cathy’s dance stopped also.

“Who is that?” I whispered.

“Ellen, I wish you could open the door,” whispered back mycompanion, 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 havean explanation to ask and obtain.”

“I sha’n’t speak to you, Mr. Heathcliff,” answeredCatherine. “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 Idemand 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? Youdeserved, both of you, flogging for that! You especially, the elder; and lesssensitive, as it turns out. I’ve got your letters, and if you give me anypertness I’ll send them to your father. I presume you grew weary of theamusem*nt and dropped it, didn’t you? Well, you dropped Linton with itinto a Slough of Despond. He was in earnest: in love, really. As true as Ilive, he’s dying for you; breaking his heart at your fickleness: notfiguratively, but actually. Though Hareton has made him a standing jest for sixweeks, and I have used more serious measures, and attempted to frighten him outof his idiocy, he gets worse daily; and he’ll be under the sod beforesummer, unless you restore him!”

“How can you lie so glaringly to the poor child?” I called from theinside. “Pray ride on! How can you deliberately get up such paltryfalsehoods? Miss Cathy, I’ll knock the lock off with a stone: youwon’t believe that vile nonsense. You can feel in yourself it isimpossible that a person should die for love of a stranger.”

“I was not aware there were eavesdroppers,” muttered the detectedvillain. “Worthy Mrs. Dean, I like you, but I don’t like yourdouble-dealing,” he added aloud. “How could you lie soglaringly as to affirm I hated the ‘poor child’? and invent bugbearstories to terrify her from my door-stones? Catherine Linton (the very namewarms me), my bonny lass, I shall be from home all this week; go and see if Ihave not spoken truth: do, there’s a darling! Just imagine your father inmy place, and Linton in yours; then think how you would value your carelesslover if he refused to stir a step to comfort you, when your father himselfentreated 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 cansave 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 youwon’t let her go, you can walk over yourself. But I shall not return tillthis time next week; and I think your master himself would scarcely object toher visiting her cousin.”

“Come in,” said I, taking Cathy by the arm and half forcing her tore-enter; for she lingered, viewing with troubled eyes the features of thespeaker, 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 withLinton; and Hareton and Joseph have less. I’ll own that he’s with aharsh set. He pines for kindness, as well as love; and a kind word from youwould 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, andcannot be persuaded that you don’t hate him, since you neither write norcall.”

I closed the door, and rolled a stone to assist the loosened lock in holdingit; and spreading my umbrella, I drew my charge underneath: for the rain beganto drive through the moaning branches of the trees, and warned us to avoiddelay. Our hurry prevented any comment on the encounter with Heathcliff, as westretched towards home; but I divined instinctively that Catherine’sheart was clouded now in double darkness. Her features were so sad, they didnot seem hers: she evidently regarded what she had heard as every syllabletrue.

The master had retired to rest before we came in. Cathy stole to his room toinquire how he was; he had fallen asleep. She returned, and asked me to sitwith her in the library. We took our tea together; and afterwards she lay downon the rug, and told me not to talk, for she was weary. I got a book, andpretended to read. As soon as she supposed me absorbed in my occupation, sherecommenced her silent weeping: it appeared, at present, her favouritediversion. I suffered her to enjoy it a while; then I expostulated: deridingand ridiculing all Mr. Heathcliff’s assertions about his son, as if Iwere certain she would coincide. Alas! I hadn’t skill to counteract theeffect his account had produced: it was just what he intended.

“You may be right, Ellen,” she answered; “but I shall neverfeel at ease till I know. And I must tell Linton it is not my fault that Idon’t write, and convince him that I shall not change.”

What use were anger and protestations against her silly credulity? We partedthat night—hostile; but next day beheld me on the road to WutheringHeights, by the side of my wilful young mistress’s pony. I couldn’tbear to witness her sorrow: to see her pale, dejected countenance, and heavyeyes: and I yielded, in the faint hope that Linton himself might prove, by hisreception of us, how little of the tale was founded on fact.

CHAPTER XXIII

The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning—half frost, halfdrizzle—and temporary brooks crossed our path—gurgling from theuplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted; I was cross and low; exactly thehumour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things. We entered thefarm-house by the kitchen way, to ascertain whether Mr. Heathcliff were reallyabsent: because I put slight faith in his own affirmation.

Joseph seemed sitting in a sort of elysium alone, beside a roaring fire; aquart of ale on the table near him, bristling with large pieces of toastedoat-cake; and his black, short pipe in his mouth. Catherine ran to the hearthto warm herself. I asked if the master was in? My question remained so longunanswered, 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 theinner room. “How often am I to call you? There are only a few red ashesnow. Joseph! come this moment.”

Vigorous puffs, and a resolute stare into the grate, declared he had no ear forthis 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!” saidthe 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 armof 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 bylooking very contrite. “Will you shut the door, if you please? you leftit open; and those—those detestable creatures won’t bringcoals to the fire. It’s so cold!”

I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttleful myself. The invalidcomplained of being covered with ashes; but he had a tiresome cough, and lookedfeverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his temper.

“Well, Linton,” murmured Catherine, when his corrugated browrelaxed, “are you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?”

“Why didn’t you come before?” he asked. “You shouldhave come, instead of writing. It tired me dreadfully writing those longletters. I’d far rather have talked to you. Now, I can neither bear totalk, nor anything else. I wonder where Zillah is! Will you” (looking atme) “step into the kitchen and see?”

I had received no thanks for my other service; and being unwilling to run toand 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—theyresolved 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 Haretonlaughs at me! I hate him! indeed, I hate them all: they are odiousbeings.”

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 abottle on the table; and having swallowed a small portion, appeared moretranquil, and said she was very kind.

“And are you glad to see me?” asked she, reiterating her formerquestion, 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. Andpapa swore it was owing to me: he called me a pitiful, shuffling, worthlessthing; and said you despised me; and if he had been in my place, he would bemore the master of the Grange than your father by this time. But youdon’t despise me, do you, Miss—?”

“I wish you would say Catherine, or Cathy,” interrupted my younglady. “Despise you? No! Next to papa and Ellen, I love you better thananybody living. I don’t love Mr. Heathcliff, though; and I dare not comewhen he returns: will he stay away many days?”

“Not many,” answered Linton; “but he goes on to the moorsfrequently, since the shooting season commenced; and you might spend an hour ortwo with me in his absence. Do say you will. I think I should not be peevishwith you: you’d not provoke me, and you’d always be ready to helpme, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Catherine, stroking his long soft hair, “if Icould 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 allthe world, if you were my wife; so I’d rather you were that.”

“No, I should never love anybody better than papa,” she returnedgravely. “And people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their sistersand brothers: and if you were the latter, you would live with us, and papawould 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. Iendeavoured to stop her thoughtless tongue. I couldn’t succeed tilleverything she knew was out. Master Heathcliff, much irritated, asserted herrelation was false.

“Papa told me; and papa does not tell falsehoods,” she answeredpertly.

“My papa scorns yours!” cried Linton. “He calls him asneaking fool.”

“Yours is a wicked man,” retorted Catherine; “and you arevery naughty to dare to repeat what he says. He must be wicked to have madeAunt Isabella leave him as she did.”

“She didn’t leave him,” said the boy; “yousha’n’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 grewred with passion.

“She did! she did!” sang Linton, sinking into the recess of hischair, and leaning back his head to enjoy the agitation of the other disputant,who stood behind.

“Hush, Master Heathcliff!” I said; “that’s yourfather’s tale, too, I suppose.”

“It isn’t: you hold your tongue!” he answered. “Shedid, she did, Catherine! she did, she did!”

Cathy, beside herself, gave the chair a violent push, and caused him to fallagainst one arm. He was immediately seized by a suffocating cough that soonended his triumph. It lasted so long that it frightened even me. As to hiscousin, 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 hethrust me away, and leant his head down silently. Catherine quelled herlamentations also, took a seat opposite, and looked solemnly into the fire.

“How do you feel now, Master Heathcliff?” I inquired, after waitingten 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 Iwas better to-day: and there—” his voice died in a whimper.

“I didn’t strike you!” muttered Cathy, chewing her lipto prevent another burst of emotion.

He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering, and kept it up for aquarter of an hour; on purpose to distress his cousin apparently, for wheneverhe caught a stifled sob from her he put renewed pain and pathos into theinflexions of his voice.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Linton,” she said at length, rackedbeyond endurance. “But I couldn’t have been hurt by thatlittle 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 hurtme so that I shall lie awake all night choking with this cough. If you had ityou’d know what it was; but you’ll be comfortably asleepwhile I’m in agony, and nobody near me. I wonder how you would like topass those fearful nights!” And he began to wail aloud, for very pity ofhimself.

“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 hadshe never come. However, she shall not disturb you again; and perhapsyou’ll get quieter when we leave you.”

“Must I go?” asked Catherine dolefully, bending over him. “Doyou want me to go, Linton?”

“You can’t alter what you’ve done,” he repliedpettishly, shrinking from her, “unless you alter it for the worse byteasing me into a fever.”

“Well, then, I must go?” she repeated.

“Let me alone, at least,” said he; “I can’t bear yourtalking.”

She lingered, and resisted my persuasions to departure a tiresome while; but ashe neither looked up nor spoke, she finally made a movement to the door, and Ifollowed. We were recalled by a scream. Linton had slid from his seat on to thehearthstone, and lay writhing in the mere perverseness of an indulged plague ofa child, determined to be as grievous and harassing as it can. I thoroughlygauged his disposition from his behaviour, and saw at once it would be folly toattempt humouring him. Not so my companion: she ran back in terror, knelt down,and cried, and soothed, and entreated, till he grew quiet from lack of breath:by no means from compunction at distressing her.

“I shall lift him on to the settle,” I said, “and he may rollabout as he pleases: we can’t stop to watch him. I hope you aresatisfied, Miss Cathy, that you are not the person to benefit him; andthat 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 hisnonsense, he’ll be glad to lie still.”

She placed a cushion under his head, and offered him some water; he rejectedthe latter, and tossed uneasily on the former, as if it were a stone or a blockof wood. She tried to put it more comfortably.

“I can’t do with that,” he said; “it’s not highenough.”

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 hershoulder into a support.

“No, that won’t do,” I said. “You’ll be contentwith the cushion, Master Heathcliff. Miss has wasted too much time on youalready: we cannot remain five minutes longer.”

“Yes, yes, we can!” replied Cathy. “He’s good andpatient now. He’s beginning to think I shall have far greater misery thanhe will to-night, if I believe he is the worse for my visit: and then I darenot come again. Tell the truth about it, Linton; for I mustn’t come, if Ihave 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 whenyou entered as I am at present—was I?”

“But you’ve made yourself ill by crying and being in apassion.—I didn’t do it all,” said his cousin.“However, we’ll be friends now. And you want me: you would wish tosee me sometimes, really?”

“I told you I did,” he replied impatiently. “Sit on thesettle and let me lean on your knee. That’s as mamma used to do, wholeafternoons together. Sit quite still and don’t talk: but you may sing asong, if you can sing; or you may say a nice long interesting ballad—oneof 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 bothmightily. Linton would have another, and after that another, notwithstanding mystrenuous objections; and so they went on until the clock struck twelve, and weheard Hareton in the court, returning for his dinner.

“And to-morrow, Catherine, will you be here to-morrow?” asked youngHeathcliff, holding her frock as she rose reluctantly.

“No,” I answered, “nor next day neither.” She, however,gave a different response evidently, for his forehead cleared as she stoopedand whispered in his ear.

“You won’t go to-morrow, recollect, Miss!” I commenced, whenwe were out of the house. “You are not dreaming of it, are you?”

She smiled.

“Oh, I’ll take good care,” I continued: “I’llhave that lock mended, and you can escape by no way else.”

“I can get over the wall,” she said laughing. “The Grange isnot a prison, Ellen, and you are not my gaoler. And besides, I’m almostseventeen: I’m a woman. And I’m certain Linton would recoverquickly 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’sgood. I’d make such a pet of him, if he were mine. We should neverquarrel, 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 sicklyslip that ever struggled into its teens. Happily, as Mr. Heathcliffconjectured, he’ll not win twenty. I doubt whether he’ll seespring, indeed. And small loss to his family whenever he drops off. And luckyit is for us that his father took him: the kinder he was treated, the moretedious and selfish he’d be. I’m glad you have no chance of havinghim for a husband, Miss Catherine.”

My companion waxed serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his death soregardlessly wounded her feelings.

“He’s younger than I,” she answered, after a protracted pauseof meditation, “and he ought to live the longest: he will—he mustlive as long as I do. He’s as strong now as when he first came into thenorth; I’m positive of that. It’s only a cold that ails him, thesame as papa has. You say papa will get better, and why shouldn’the?”

“Well, well,” I cried, “after all, we needn’t troubleourselves; for listen, Miss,—and mind, I’ll keep my word,—ifyou attempt going to Wuthering Heights again, with or without me, I shallinform Mr. Linton, and, unless he allow it, the intimacy with your cousin mustnot 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 beenwandering through the park, and therefore he demanded no explanation of ourabsence. As soon as I entered I hastened to change my soaked shoes andstockings; but sitting such a while at the Heights had done the mischief. Onthe succeeding morning I was laid up, and during three weeks I remainedincapacitated for attending to my duties: a calamity never experienced prior tothat period, and never, I am thankful to say, since.

My little mistress behaved like an angel in coming to wait on me, and cheer mysolitude; the confinement brought me exceedingly low. It is wearisome, to astirring 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 amusem*nt usurped a minute: she neglectedher meals, her studies, and her play; and she was the fondest nurse that everwatched. She must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so, to giveso much to me. I said her days were divided between us; but the master retiredearly, and I generally needed nothing after six o’clock, thus the eveningwas her own. Poor thing! I never considered what she did with herself aftertea. And though frequently, when she looked in to bid me good-night, I remarkeda fresh colour in her cheeks and a pinkness over her slender fingers, insteadof fancying the hue borrowed from a cold ride across the moors, I laid it tothe charge of a hot fire in the library.

CHAPTER XXIV

At the close of three weeks I was able to quit my chamber and move about thehouse. And on the first occasion of my sitting up in the evening I askedCatherine to read to me, because my eyes were weak. We were in the library, themaster having gone to bed: she consented, rather unwillingly, I fancied; andimagining my sort of books did not suit her, I bid her please herself in thechoice of what she perused. She selected one of her own favourites, and gotforward 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 disrelishfor 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, andfinally went to her room, completely overdone with sleep; judging by herpeevish, heavy look, and the constant rubbing she inflicted on her eyes. Thefollowing night she seemed more impatient still; and on the third fromrecovering my company she complained of a headache, and left me. I thought herconduct odd; and having remained alone a long while, I resolved on going andinquiring 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, andnone below. The servants affirmed they had not seen her. I listened at Mr.Edgar’s door; all was silence. I returned to her apartment, extinguishedmy candle, and seated myself in the window.

The moon shone bright; a sprinkling of snow covered the ground, and I reflectedthat 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 thepark; but it was not my young mistress: on its emerging into the light, Irecognised one of the grooms. He stood a considerable period, viewing thecarriage-road through the grounds; then started off at a brisk pace, as if hehad detected something, and reappeared presently, leading Miss’s pony;and there she was, just dismounted, and walking by its side. The man took hischarge stealthily across the grass towards the stable. Cathy entered by thecasem*nt-window of the drawing-room, and glided noiselessly up to where Iawaited her. She put the door gently to, slipped off her snowy shoes, untiedher hat, and was proceeding, unconscious of my espionage, to lay aside hermantle, when I suddenly rose and revealed myself. The surprise petrified her aninstant: she uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and stood fixed.

“My dear Miss Catherine,” I began, too vividly impressed by herrecent kindness to break into a scold, “where have you been riding out atthis hour? And why should you try to deceive me by telling a tale? Where haveyou been? Speak!”

“To the bottom of the park,” she stammered. “I didn’ttell a tale.”

“And nowhere else?” I demanded.

“No,” was the muttered reply.

“Oh, Catherine!” I cried, sorrowfully. “You know you havebeen 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 framea 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 tohide it.”

We sat down in the window-seat; I assured her I would not scold, whatever hersecret might be, and I guessed it, of course; so she commenced—

“I’ve been to Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I’ve never missedgoing a day since you fell ill; except thrice before, and twice after you leftyour 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 tillhalf-past eight, and then galloped home. It was not to amuse myself that Iwent: I was often wretched all the time. Now and then I was happy: once in aweek perhaps. At first, I expected there would be sad work persuading you tolet me keep my word to Linton: for I had engaged to call again next day, whenwe quitted him; but, as you stayed upstairs on the morrow, I escaped thattrouble. While Michael was refastening the lock of the park door in theafternoon, I got possession of the key, and told him how my cousin wished me tovisit him, because he was sick, and couldn’t come to the Grange; and howpapa 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 heoffered, if I would lend him books out of the library, to do what I wished: butI preferred giving him my own, and that satisfied him better.

“On my second visit Linton seemed in lively spirits; and Zillah (that istheir housekeeper) made us a clean room and a good fire, and told us that, asJoseph was out at a prayer-meeting and Hareton Earnshaw was off with hisdogs—robbing our woods of pheasants, as I heard afterwards—we mightdo what we liked. She brought me some warm wine and gingerbread, and appearedexceedingly good-natured; and Linton sat in the arm-chair, and I in the littlerocking chair on the hearth-stone, and we laughed and talked so merrily, andfound so much to say: we planned where we would go, and what we would do insummer. I needn’t repeat that, because you would call it silly.

“One time, however, we were near quarrelling. He said the pleasantestmanner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bankof heath in the middle of the moors, with the bees humming dreamily about amongthe bloom, and the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and brightsun shining steadily and cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea ofheaven’s happiness: mine was rocking in a rustling green tree, with awest wind blowing, and bright white clouds flitting rapidly above; and not onlylarks, but throstles, and blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring outmusic on every side, and the moors seen at a distance, broken into cool duskydells; but close by great swells of long grass undulating in waves to thebreeze; and woods and sounding water, and the whole world awake and wild withjoy. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle anddance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and hesaid mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said hecould not breathe in mine, and began to grow very snappish. At last, we agreedto try both, as soon as the right weather came; and then we kissed each otherand were friends.

“After sitting still an hour, I looked at the great room with its smoothuncarpeted floor, and thought how nice it would be to play in, if we removedthe table; and I asked Linton to call Zillah in to help us, and we’d havea game at blindman’s-buff; she should try to catch us: you used to, youknow, Ellen. He wouldn’t: there was no pleasure in it, he said; but heconsented to play at ball with me. We found two in a cupboard, among a heap ofold toys, tops, and hoops, and battledores and shuttleco*cks. 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., andLinton didn’t like it. I beat him constantly; and he got cross again, andcoughed, and returned to his chair. That night, though, he easily recovered hisgood humour: he was charmed with two or three pretty songs—yoursongs, Ellen; and when I was obliged to go, he begged and entreated me to comethe following evening; and I promised. Minny and I went flying home as light asair; and I dreamt of Wuthering Heights and my sweet, darling cousin, tillmorning.

“On the morrow I was sad; partly because you were poorly, and partly thatI wished my father knew, and approved of my excursions: but it was beautifulmoonlight after tea; and, as I rode on, the gloom cleared. I shall have anotherhappy evening, I thought to myself; and what delights me more, my pretty Lintonwill. I trotted up their garden, and was turning round to the back, when thatfellow 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 asif he wanted me to speak to him. I only told him to leave my horse alone, orelse it would kick him. He answered in his vulgar accent, ‘Itwouldn’t do mitch hurt if it did;’ and surveyed its legs with asmile. I was half inclined to make it try; however, he moved off to open thedoor, and, as he raised the latch, he looked up to the inscription above, andsaid, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and elation: ‘Miss Catherine!I can read yon, now.’

“‘Wonderful,’ I exclaimed. ‘Pray let us hearyou—you are grown clever!’

“He spelt, and drawled over by syllables, the name—‘HaretonEarnshaw.’

“‘And the figures?’ I cried, encouragingly, perceiving thathe 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 scowlgathering 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. Isettled his doubts, by suddenly retrieving my gravity and desiring him to walkaway, for I came to see Linton, not him. He reddened—I saw that by themoonlight—dropped his hand from the latch, and skulked off, a picture ofmortified vanity. He imagined himself to be as accomplished as Linton, Isuppose, because he could spell his own name; and was marvellously discomfitedthat I didn’t think the same.”

“Stop, Miss Catherine, dear!” I interrupted. “I shall notscold, but I don’t like your conduct there. If you had remembered thatHareton was your cousin as much as Master Heathcliff, you would have felt howimproper it was to behave in that way. At least, it was praiseworthy ambitionfor him to desire to be as accomplished as Linton; and probably he did notlearn merely to show off: you had made him ashamed of his ignorance before, Ihave no doubt; and he wished to remedy it and please you. To sneer at hisimperfect attempt was very bad breeding. Had you been brought up in hiscirc*mstances, would you be less rude? He was as quick and as intelligent achild 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?” sheexclaimed, surprised at my earnestness. “But wait, and you shall hear ifhe conned his A B C to please me; and if it were worth while being civil to thebrute. I entered; Linton was lying on the settle, and half got up to welcomeme.

“‘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 promiseagain, before you go.’

“I knew now that I mustn’t tease him, as he was ill; and I spokesoftly and put no questions, and avoided irritating him in any way. I hadbrought 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 gatheredvenom with reflection. He advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm, andswung him off the seat.

“‘Get to thy own room!’ he said, in a voice almostinarticulate with passion; and his face looked swelled and furious. ‘Takeher 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 himinto the kitchen; and he clenched his fist as I followed, seemingly longing toknock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall; he kickedit after me, and shut us out. I heard a malignant, crackly laugh by the fire,and turning, beheld that odious Joseph standing rubbing his bony hands, andquivering.

“‘I wer sure he’d sarve ye out! He’s a grand lad!He’s getten t’ raight sperrit in him! He knaws—ay, heknaws, 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 theold 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 anexpression of frantic, powerless fury. He grasped the handle of the door, andshook it: it was fastened inside.

“‘If you don’t let me in, I’ll kill you!—If youdon’t let me in, I’ll kill you!’ he rather shrieked thansaid. ‘Devil! devil!—I’ll kill you—I’ll killyou!’

“Joseph uttered his croaking laugh again.

“‘Thear, that’s t’ father!’ he cried.‘That’s father! We’ve allas summut o’ either side inus. Niver heed, Hareton, lad—dunnut be ’feard—he cannot getat thee!’

“I took hold of Linton’s hands, and tried to pull him away; but heshrieked so shockingly that I dared not proceed. At last his cries were chokedby a dreadful fit of coughing; blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell on theground. I ran into the yard, sick with terror; and called for Zillah, as loudas I could. She soon heard me: she was milking the cows in a shed behind thebarn, and hurrying from her work, she inquired what there was to do? Ihadn’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 thenconveying the poor thing upstairs. Zillah and I ascended after him; but hestopped me at the top of the steps, and said I shouldn’t go in: I must gohome. I exclaimed that he had killed Linton, and I would enter. Josephlocked the door, and declared I should do ‘no sich stuff,’ andasked me whether I were ‘bahn to be as mad as him.’ I stood cryingtill the housekeeper reappeared. She affirmed he would be better in a bit, buthe couldn’t do with that shrieking and din; and she took me, and nearlycarried me into the house.

“Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head! I sobbed and wept sothat my eyes were almost blind; and the ruffian you have such sympathy withstood opposite: presuming every now and then to bid me ‘wisht,’ anddenying that it was his fault; and, finally, frightened by my assertions that Iwould tell papa, and that he should be put in prison and hanged, he commencedblubbering himself, and hurried out to hide his cowardly agitation. Still, Iwas not rid of him: when at length they compelled me to depart, and I had gotsome hundred yards off the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow of theroad-side, 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. Helet go, thundering one of his horrid curses, and I galloped home more than halfout of my senses.

“I didn’t bid you good-night that evening, and I didn’t go toWuthering Heights the next: I wished to go exceedingly; but I was strangelyexcited, and dreaded to hear that Linton was dead, sometimes; and sometimesshuddered at the thought of encountering Hareton. On the third day I tookcourage: at least, I couldn’t bear longer suspense, and stole off oncemore. I went at five o’clock, and walked; fancying I might manage tocreep into the house, and up to Linton’s room, unobserved. However, thedogs gave notice of my approach. Zillah received me, and saying ‘the ladwas mending nicely,’ showed me into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment,where, to my inexpressible joy, I beheld Linton laid on a little sofa, readingone of my books. But he would neither speak to me nor look at me, through awhole 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 occasionedthe 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 Iwouldn’t turn back; and the morrow was the second day on which I stayedat home, nearly determined to visit him no more. But it was so miserable goingto bed and getting up, and never hearing anything about him, that my resolutionmelted into air before it was properly formed. It had appeared wrong totake the journey once; now it seemed wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask ifhe must saddle Minny; I said ‘Yes,’ and considered myself doing aduty as she bore me over the hills. I was forced to pass the front windows toget to the court: it was no use trying to conceal my presence.

“‘Young master is in the house,’ said Zillah, as she saw memaking for the parlour. I went in; Earnshaw was there also, but he quitted theroom directly. Linton sat in the great arm-chair half asleep; walking up to thefire, 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 onpurpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is our lastmeeting: let us say good-bye; and tell Mr. Heathcliff that you have no wish tosee me, and that he mustn’t invent any more falsehoods on thesubject.’

“‘Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine,’ he answered.‘You are so much happier than I am, you ought to be better. Papa talksenough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me, to make it natural I shoulddoubt 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 amworthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit, almost always; and, if youchoose, 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, andas kind, and as good as you are, I would be; as willingly, and more so, than ashappy and as healthy. And believe that your kindness has made me love youdeeper than if I deserved your love: and though I couldn’t, and cannothelp showing my nature to you, I regret it and repent it; and shall regret andrepent it till I die!’

“I felt he spoke the truth; and I felt I must forgive him: and, though weshould 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; yetI was sorry Linton had that distorted nature. He’ll never let hisfriends be at ease, and he’ll never be at ease himself! I have alwaysgone to his little parlour, since that night; because his father returned theday after.

“About three times, I think, we have been merry and hopeful, as we werethe first evening; the rest of my visits were dreary and troubled: now with hisselfishness and spite, and now with his sufferings: but I’ve learned toendure 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 forhis conduct of the night before. I can’t tell how he knew of it, unlesshe listened. Linton had certainly behaved provokingly: however, it was thebusiness of nobody but me, and I interrupted Mr. Heathcliff’s lecture byentering and telling him so. He burst into a laugh, and went away, saying hewas glad I took that view of the matter. Since then, I’ve told Linton hemust whisper his bitter things. Now, Ellen, you have heard all. I can’tbe prevented from going to Wuthering Heights, except by inflicting misery ontwo people; whereas, if you’ll only not tell papa, my going need disturbthe tranquillity of none. You’ll not tell, will you? It will be veryheartless, if you do.”

“I’ll make up my mind on that point by to-morrow, MissCatherine,” I replied. “It requires some study; and so I’llleave you to your rest, and go think it over.”

I thought it over aloud, in my master’s presence; walking straight fromher room to his, and relating the whole story: with the exception of herconversations with her cousin, and any mention of Hareton. Mr. Linton wasalarmed and distressed, more than he would acknowledge to me. In the morning,Catherine learnt my betrayal of her confidence, and she learnt also that hersecret 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 wasa promise that he would write and give him leave to come to the Grange when hepleased; but explaining that he must no longer expect to see Catherine atWuthering Heights. Perhaps, had he been aware of his nephew’s dispositionand state of health, he would have seen fit to withhold even that slightconsolation.

CHAPTER XXV

“These things happened last winter, sir,” said Mrs. Dean;“hardly more than a year ago. Last winter, I did not think, at anothertwelve months’ end, I should be amusing a stranger to the family withrelating them! Yet, who knows how long you’ll be a stranger? You’retoo young to rest always contented, living by yourself; and I some way fancy noone could see Catherine Linton and not love her. You smile; but why do you lookso lively and interested when I talk about her? and why have you asked me tohang her picture over your fireplace? and why—?”

“Stop, my good friend!” I cried. “It may be very possiblethat I should love her; but would she love me? I doubt it too much toventure my tranquillity by running into temptation: and then my home is nothere. I’m of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. Go on. WasCatherine obedient to her father’s commands?”

“She was,” continued the housekeeper. “Her affection for himwas still the chief sentiment in her heart; and he spoke without anger: hespoke in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils andfoes, where his remembered words would be the only aid that he could bequeathto guide her. He said to me, a few days afterwards, ‘I wish my nephewwould write, Ellen, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what you think of him: is hechanged for the better, or is there a prospect of improvement, as he grows aman?’

“‘He’s very delicate, sir,’ I replied; ‘andscarcely likely to reach manhood: but this I can say, he does not resemble hisfather; and if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him, he would not bebeyond her control: unless she were extremely and foolishly indulgent. However,master, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with him and seewhether he would suit her: it wants four years and more to his being ofa*ge.’”

Edgar sighed; and, walking to the window, looked out towards Gimmerton Kirk. Itwas a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly, and we could justdistinguish the two fir-trees in the yard, and the sparely-scatteredgravestones.

“I’ve prayed often,” he half soliloquised, “for theapproach of what is coming; and now I begin to shrink, and fear it. I thoughtthe memory of the hour I came down that glen a bridegroom would be less sweetthan the anticipation that I was soon, in a few months, or, possibly, weeks, tobe carried up, and laid in its lonely hollow! Ellen, I’ve been very happywith my little Cathy: through winter nights and summer days she was a livinghope at my side. But I’ve been as happy musing by myself among thosestones, under that old church: lying, through the long June evenings, on thegreen mound of her mother’s grave, and wishing—yearning for thetime 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 forhis taking her from me, if he could console her for my loss. I’d not carethat Heathcliff gained his ends, and triumphed in robbing me of my lastblessing! But should Linton be unworthy—only a feeble tool to hisfather—I cannot abandon her to him! And, hard though it be to crush herbuoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her sad while I live, and leavingher solitary when I die. Darling! I’d rather resign her to God, and layher in the earth before me.”

“Resign her to God as it is, sir,” I answered, “and if weshould lose you—which may He forbid—under His providence,I’ll stand her friend and counsellor to the last. Miss Catherine is agood girl: I don’t fear that she will go wilfully wrong; and people whodo their duty are always finally rewarded.”

Spring advanced; yet my master gathered no real strength, though he resumed hiswalks in the grounds with his daughter. To her inexperienced notions, thisitself was a sign of convalescence; and then his cheek was often flushed, andhis eyes were bright; she felt sure of his recovering. On her seventeenthbirthday, he did not visit the churchyard: it was raining, and Iobserved—

“You’ll surely not go out to-night, sir?”

He answered,—“No, I’ll defer it this year a littlelonger.”

He wrote again to Linton, expressing his great desire to see him; and, had theinvalid been presentable, I’ve no doubt his father would have permittedhim to come. As it was, being instructed, he returned an answer, intimatingthat Mr. Heathcliff objected to his calling at the Grange; but hisuncle’s kind remembrance delighted him, and he hoped to meet himsometimes in his rambles, and personally to petition that his cousin and hemight not remain long so utterly divided.

That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own. Heathcliff knew hecould plead eloquently for Catherine’s company, then.

“I do not ask,” he said, “that she may visit here; but am Inever to see her, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and youforbid her to come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards theHeights; and let us exchange a few words, in your presence! We have donenothing to deserve this separation; and you are not angry with me: you have noreason to dislike me, you allow, yourself. Dear uncle! send me a kind noteto-morrow, and leave to join you anywhere you please, except at ThrushcrossGrange. I believe an interview would convince you that my father’scharacter is not mine: he affirms I am more your nephew than his son; andthough I have faults which render me unworthy of Catherine, she has excusedthem, and for her sake, you should also. You inquire after my health—itis better; but while I remain cut off from all hope, and doomed to solitude, orthe society of those who never did and never will like me, how can I becheerful 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, theymight meet: meantime, he wished him to continue writing at intervals, andengaged to give him what advice and comfort he was able by letter; being wellaware of his hard position in his family. Linton complied; and had he beenunrestrained, would probably have spoiled all by filling his epistles withcomplaints 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, insteadof penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses, the themesconstantly uppermost in his thoughts, he harped on the cruel obligation ofbeing held asunder from his friend and love; and gently intimated that Mr.Linton must allow an interview soon, or he should fear he was purposelydeceiving him with empty promises.

Cathy was a powerful ally at home; and between them they at length persuaded mymaster to acquiesce in their having a ride or a walk together about once aweek, under my guardianship, and on the moors nearest the Grange: for Junefound him still declining. Though he had set aside yearly a portion of hisincome for my young lady’s fortune, he had a natural desire that shemight retain—or at least return in a short time to—the house of herancestors; and he considered her only prospect of doing that was by a unionwith his heir; he had no idea that the latter was failing almost as fast ashimself; nor had any one, I believe: no doctor visited the Heights, and no onesaw 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 actuallyrallying, when he mentioned riding and walking on the moors, and seemed soearnest in pursuing his object. I could not picture a father treating a dyingchild as tyrannically and wickedly as I afterwards learned Heathcliff hadtreated him, to compel this apparent eagerness: his efforts redoubling the moreimminently his avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat bydeath.

CHAPTER XXVI

Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent totheir entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join hercousin. It was a close, sultry day: devoid of sunshine, but with a sky toodappled and hazy to threaten rain: and our place of meeting had been fixed atthe guide-stone, by the cross-roads. On arriving there, however, a littleherd-boy, despatched as a messenger, told us that,—“Maister Lintonwer just o’ this side th’ Heights: and he’d be mitch obleegedto 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 atonce.”

“Well, we’ll turn our horses’ heads round when we reachhim,” answered my companion; “our excursion shall lie towardshome.”

But when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a mile from his owndoor, we found he had no horse; and we were forced to dismount, and leave oursto graze. He lay on the heath, awaiting our approach, and did not rise till wecame within a few yards. Then he walked so feebly, and looked so pale, that Iimmediately exclaimed,—“Why, Master Heathcliff, you are not fit forenjoying a ramble this morning. How ill you do look!”

Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment: she changed the ejacul*tionof joy on her lips to one of alarm; and the congratulation on theirlong-postponed meeting to an anxious inquiry, whether he were worse than usual?

“No—better—better!” he panted, trembling, and retainingher hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wanderedtimidly over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard wildnessthe languid expression they once possessed.

“But you have been worse,” persisted his cousin; “worse thanwhen I saw you last; you are thinner, and—”

“I’m tired,” he interrupted, hurriedly. “It is too hotfor walking, let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feelsick—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 effortat cheerfulness. “You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in theplace and way each thought pleasantest? This is nearly yours, only there areclouds; but then they are so soft and mellow: it is nicer than sunshine. Nextweek, if you can, we’ll ride down to the Grange Park, and trymine.”

Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of; and he had evidentlygreat difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack of interestin the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity to contribute to herentertainment, were so obvious that she could not conceal her disappointment.An indefinite alteration had come over his whole person and manner. Thepettishness that might be caressed into fondness, had yielded to a listlessapathy; there was less of the peevish temper of a child which frets and teaseson purpose to be soothed, and more of the self-absorbed moroseness of aconfirmed invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the good-humouredmirth of others as an insult. Catherine perceived, as well as I did, that heheld it rather a punishment, than a gratification, to endure our company; andshe made no scruple of proposing, presently, to depart. That proposal,unexpectedly, roused Linton from his lethargy, and threw him into a strangestate of agitation. He glanced fearfully towards the Heights, begging she wouldremain another half-hour, at least.

“But I think,” said Cathy, “you’d be more comfortableat 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; youhave 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 heavyweather and heat that make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, agreat deal for me. Tell uncle I’m in tolerable health, will you?”

“I’ll tell him that you say so, Linton. I couldn’taffirm that you are,” observed my young lady, wondering at hispertinacious assertion of what was evidently an untruth.

“And be here again next Thursday,” continued he, shunning herpuzzled gaze. “And give him my thanks for permitting you to come—mybest thanks, Catherine. And—and, if you did meet my father, and heasked you about me, don’t lead him to suppose that I’ve beenextremely silent and stupid: don’t look sad and downcast, as youare doing—he’ll be angry.”

“I care nothing for his anger,” exclaimed Cathy, imagining shewould be its object.

“But I do,” said her cousin, shuddering. “Don’tprovoke him against me, Catherine, for he is very hard.”

“Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff?” I inquired. “Has hegrown weary of indulgence, and passed from passive to active hatred?”

Linton looked at me, but did not answer; and, after keeping her seat by hisside another ten minutes, during which his head fell drowsily on his breast,and he uttered nothing except suppressed moans of exhaustion or pain, Cathybegan to seek solace in looking for bilberries, and sharing the produce of herresearches with me: she did not offer them to him, for she saw further noticewould 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 willbe wanting us back.”

“Well, we must not leave him asleep,” I answered; “wait tillhe wakes, and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your longing tosee poor Linton has soon evaporated!”

“Why did he wish to see me?” returned Catherine. “Inhis crossest humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his presentcurious mood. It’s just as if it were a task he was compelled toperform—this interview—for fear his father should scold him. ButI’m hardly going to come to give Mr. Heathcliff pleasure; whatever reasonhe may have for ordering Linton to undergo this penance. And, though I’mglad he’s better in health, I’m sorry he’s so much lesspleasant, 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 greatdeal of his sufferings, you know. He is not tolerably well, as he told me totell papa; but he’s better, very likely.”

“There you differ with me, Miss Cathy,” I remarked; “I shouldconjecture him to be far worse.”

Linton here started from his slumber in bewildered terror, and asked if any onehad called his name.

“No,” said Catherine; “unless in dreams. I cannot conceivehow you manage to doze out of doors, in the morning.”

“I thought I heard my father,” he gasped, glancing up to thefrowning nab above us. “You are sure nobody spoke?”

“Quite sure,” replied his cousin. “Only Ellen and I weredisputing concerning your health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when weseparated in winter? If you be, I’m certain one thing is notstronger—your regard for me: speak,—are you?”

The tears gushed from Linton’s eyes as he answered, “Yes, yes, Iam!” And, still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze wanderedup and down to detect its owner.

Cathy rose. “For to-day we must part,” she said. “And Iwon’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 todetain her; but at that announcement she hastily disengaged herself, andwhistled to Minny, who obeyed her like a dog.

“I’ll be here next Thursday,” she cried, springing to thesaddle. “Good-bye. Quick, Ellen!”

And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure, so absorbed was he inanticipating his father’s approach.

Before we reached home, Catherine’s displeasure softened into a perplexedsensation of pity and regret, largely blended with vague, uneasy doubts aboutLinton’s actual circ*mstances, physical and social: in which I partook,though I counselled her not to say much; for a second journey would make usbetter judges. My master requested an account of our ongoings. Hisnephew’s offering of thanks was duly delivered, Miss Cathy gentlytouching on the rest: I also threw little light on his inquiries, for I hardlyknew what to hide and what to reveal.

CHAPTER XXVII

Seven days glided away, every one marking its course by the henceforth rapidalteration of Edgar Linton’s state. The havoc that months had previouslywrought was now emulated by the inroads of hours. Catherine we would fain havedeluded yet; but her own quick spirit refused to delude her: it divined insecret, and brooded on the dreadful probability, gradually ripening intocertainty. 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: forthe library, where her father stopped a short time daily—the brief periodhe could bear to sit up—and his chamber, had become her whole world. Shegrudged each moment that did not find her bending over his pillow, or seated byhis side. Her countenance grew wan with watching and sorrow, and my mastergladly dismissed her to what he flattered himself would be a happy change ofscene and society; drawing comfort from the hope that she would not now be leftentirely alone after his death.

He had a fixed idea, I guessed by several observations he let fall, that, ashis nephew resembled him in person, he would resemble him in mind; forLinton’s letters bore few or no indications of his defective character.And I, through pardonable weakness, refrained from correcting the error; askingmyself what good there would be in disturbing his last moments with informationthat 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 respiredit, though dying, might revive. Catherine’s face was just like thelandscape—shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession; butthe shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more transient; and her poorlittle heart reproached itself for even that passing forgetfulness of itscares.

We discerned Linton watching at the same spot he had selected before. My youngmistress alighted, and told me that, as she was resolved to stay a very littlewhile, I had better hold the pony and remain on horseback; but I dissented: Iwouldn’t risk losing sight of the charge committed to me a minute; so weclimbed the slope of heath together. Master Heathcliff received us with greateranimation on this occasion: not the animation of high spirits though, nor yetof 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, swallowingher greeting. “Why cannot you say at once you don’t want me? It isstrange, 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 hiscousin’s patience was not sufficient to endure this enigmaticalbehaviour.

“My father is very ill,” she said; “and why am Icalled from his bedside? Why didn’t you send to absolve me from mypromise, when you wished I wouldn’t keep it? Come! I desire anexplanation: playing and trifling are completely banished out of my mind; and Ican’t dance attendance on your affectations now!”

“My affectations!” he murmured; “what are they? Forheaven’s sake, Catherine, don’t look so angry! Despise me as muchas you please; I am a worthless, cowardly wretch: I can’t be scornedenough; but I’m too mean for your anger. Hate my father, and spare me forcontempt.”

“Nonsense!” cried Catherine in a passion. “Foolish, sillyboy! And there! he trembles, as if I were really going to touch him! Youneedn’t bespeak contempt, Linton: anybody will have it spontaneously atyour service. Get off! I shall return home: it is folly dragging you from thehearth-stone, and pretending—what do we pretend? Let go my frock! If Ipitied you for crying and looking so very frightened, you should spurn suchpity. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct is. Rise, and don’tdegrade yourself into an abject reptile—don’t!”

With streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown his nervelessframe 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 bekilled! Dear Catherine, my life is in your hands: and you have said youloved me, and if you did, it wouldn’t harm you. You’ll not go,then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you willconsent—and he’ll let me die with you!”

My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him. The oldfeeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she grew thoroughlymoved and alarmed.

“Consent to what?” she asked. “To stay! tell me the meaningof this strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words, and distractme! Be calm and frank, and confess at once all that weighs on your heart. Youwouldn’t injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn’t let any enemyhurt me, if you could prevent it? I’ll believe you are a coward, foryourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend.”

“But my father threatened me,” gasped the boy, clasping hisattenuated fingers, “and I dread him—I dread him! I dare nottell!”

“Oh, well!” said Catherine, with scornful compassion, “keepyour secret: I’m no coward. Save yourself: I’m notafraid!”

Her magnanimity provoked his tears: he wept wildly, kissing her supportinghands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was cogitating what themystery might be, and determined Catherine should never suffer to benefit himor any one else, by my good will; when, hearing a rustle among the ling, Ilooked up and saw Mr. Heathcliff almost close upon us, descending the Heights.He didn’t cast a glance towards my companions, though they weresufficiently near for Linton’s sobs to be audible; but hailing me in thealmost hearty tone he assumed to none besides, and the sincerity of which Icouldn’t avoid doubting, he said—

“It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are you atthe Grange? Let us hear. The rumour goes,” he added, in a lower tone,“that Edgar Linton is on his death-bed: perhaps they exaggerate hisillness?”

“No; my master is dying,” I replied: “it is true enough. Asad 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 werefixed under his eye—Linton appeared as if he could not venture to stir orraise his head, and Catherine could not move, on hisaccount—“because that lad yonder seems determined to beat me; andI’d thank his uncle to be quick, and go before him! Hallo! has the whelpbeen playing that game long? I did give him some lessons aboutsnivelling. 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 sweethearton the hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a doctor.”

“He shall be, in a day or two,” muttered Heathcliff. “Butfirst—get up, Linton! Get up!” he shouted. “Don’tgrovel on the ground there: up, this moment!”

Linton had sunk prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless fear, caused byhis father’s glance towards him, I suppose: there was nothing else toproduce such humiliation. He made several efforts to obey, but his littlestrength 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 gettingangry—and if you don’t command that paltry spirit ofyours—damn you! get up directly!”

“I will, father,” he panted. “Only, let me alone, or I shallfaint. I’ve done as you wished, I’m sure. Catherine will tell youthat I—that I—have been cheerful. Ah! keep by me, Catherine; giveme your hand.”

“Take mine,” said his father; “stand on your feet. Therenow—she’ll lend you her arm: that’s right, look ather. You would imagine I was the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excitesuch horror. Be so kind as to walk home with him, will you? He shudders if Itouch him.”

“Linton dear!” whispered Catherine, “I can’t go toWuthering Heights: papa has forbidden me. He’ll not harm you: why are youso afraid?”

“I can never re-enter that house,” he answered. “I’mnot to re-enter it without you!”

“Stop!” cried his father. “We’ll respectCatherine’s filial scruples. Nelly, take him in, and I’ll followyour advice concerning the doctor, without delay.”

“You’ll do well,” replied I. “But I must remain with mymistress: to mind your son is not my business.”

“You are very stiff,” said Heathcliff, “I know that: butyou’ll force me to pinch the baby and make it scream before it moves yourcharity. 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, Icouldn’t hinder her: indeed, how could she have refused him herself? Whatwas filling him with dread we had no means of discerning; but there he was,powerless under its gripe, and any addition seemed capable of shocking him intoidiocy. We reached the threshold; Catherine walked in, and I stood waitingtill she had conducted the invalid to a chair, expecting her out immediately;when Mr. Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed—“My house is notstricken with the plague, Nelly; and I have a mind to be hospitable to-day: sitdown, 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 bymyself. Hareton is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and Joseph areoff 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 hardlyworth accepting; but I have nothing else to offer. It is Linton, I mean. Howshe does stare! It’s odd what a savage feeling I have to anything thatseems afraid of me! Had I been born where laws are less strict and tastes lessdainty, I should treat myself to a slow vivisection of those two, as anevening’s amusem*nt.”

He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, “By hell!I hate them.”

“I am not afraid of you!” exclaimed Catherine, who could not hearthe latter part of his speech. She stepped close up; her black eyes flashingwith 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 hervoice and glance, of the person from whom she inherited it. She snatched at theinstrument, and half succeeded in getting it out of his loosened fingers: buther action recalled him to the present; he recovered it speedily.

“Now, Catherine Linton,” he said, “stand off, or I shallknock you down; and that will make Mrs. Dean mad.”

Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its contentsagain. “We will go!” she repeated, exerting her utmostefforts to cause the iron muscles to relax; and finding that her nails made noimpression, she applied her teeth pretty sharply. Heathcliff glanced at me aglance that kept me from interfering a moment. Catherine was too intent on hisfingers to notice his face. He opened them suddenly, and resigned the object ofdispute; but, ere she had well secured it, he seized her with the liberatedhand, and, pulling her on his knee, administered with the other a shower ofterrific slaps on both sides of the head, each sufficient to have fulfilled histhreat, had she been able to fall.

At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. “Youvillain!” I began to cry, “you villain!” A touch on the chestsilenced me: I am stout, and soon put out of breath; and, what with that andthe rage, I staggered dizzily back, and felt ready to suffocate, or to burst ablood-vessel. The scene was over in two minutes; Catherine, released, put hertwo hands to her temples, and looked just as if she were not sure whether herears were off or on. She trembled like a reed, poor thing, and leant againstthe 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 thefloor. “Go to Linton now, as I told you; and cry at your ease! I shall beyour father, to-morrow—all the father you’ll have in a fewdays—and you shall have plenty of that. You can bear plenty; you’reno weakling: you shall have a daily taste, if I catch such a devil of a temperin your eyes again!”

Cathy ran to me instead of Linton, and knelt down and put her burning cheek onmy lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into a corner of the settle, asquiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I dare say, that the correction hadalighted on another than him. Mr. Heathcliff, perceiving us all confounded,rose, and expeditiously made the tea himself. The cups and saucers were laidready. He poured it out, and handed me a cup.

“Wash away your spleen,” he said. “And help your own naughtypet and mine. It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I’m going out toseek your horses.”

Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit somewhere. We triedthe kitchen door, but that was fastened outside: we looked at thewindows—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, orI’ll box your ears, as he has done your cousin’s.”

“Yes, Linton, you must tell,” said Catherine. “It was foryour sake I came; and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse.”

“Give me some tea, I’m thirsty, and then I’ll tellyou,” he answered. “Mrs. Dean, go away. I don’t like youstanding 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 thelittle 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 enteredWuthering Heights; so I guessed he had been menaced with an awful visitation ofwrath if he failed in decoying us there; and, that accomplished, he had nofurther immediate fears.

“Papa wants us to be married,” he continued, after sipping some ofthe liquid. “And he knows your papa wouldn’t let us marry now; andhe’s afraid of my dying if we wait; so we are to be married in themorning, and you are to stay here all night; and, if you do as he wishes, youshall 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, willtie herself to a little perishing monkey like you? Are you cherishing thenotion that anybody, let alone Miss Catherine Linton, would have you fora husband? You want whipping for bringing us in here at all, with yourdastardly puling tricks: and—don’t look so silly, now! I’ve avery good mind to shake you severely, for your contemptible treachery, and yourimbecile conceit.”

I did give him a slight shaking; but it brought on the cough, and he took tohis 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 Lintonwas up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her in his two feeble armssobbing:—“Won’t you have me, and save me? not let me come tothe 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 thiscruel suspense. The whole night! What would he think? He’ll be distressedalready. 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 papabetter than you!”

The mortal terror he felt of Mr. Heathcliff’s anger restored to the boyhis coward’s eloquence. Catherine was near distraught: still, shepersisted that she must go home, and tried entreaty in her turn, persuading himto subdue his selfish agony. While they were thus occupied, our jailorre-entered.

“Your beasts have trotted off,” he said, “and—nowLinton! snivelling again? What has she been doing to you? Come, come—havedone, and get to bed. In a month or two, my lad, you’ll be able to payher back her present tyrannies with a vigorous hand. You’re pining forpure love, are you not? nothing else in the world: and she shall have you!There, to bed! Zillah won’t be here to-night; you must undress yourself.Hush! hold your noise! Once in your own room, I’ll not come near you: youneedn’t fear. By chance, you’ve managed tolerably. I’ll lookto the rest.”

He spoke these words, holding the door open for his son to pass, and the latterachieved his exit exactly as a spaniel might which suspected the person whoattended on it of designing a spiteful squeeze. The lock was re-secured.Heathcliff approached the fire, where my mistress and I stood silent. Catherinelooked up, and instinctively raised her hand to her cheek: his neighbourhoodrevived a painful sensation. Anybody else would have been incapable ofregarding the childish act with sternness, but he scowled on her andmuttered—“Oh! you are not afraid of me? Your courage is welldisguised: 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—whenhe—when he—Mr. Heathcliff, let me go home! I promise tomarry Linton: papa would like me to: and I love him. Why should you wish toforce me to do what I’ll willingly do of myself?”

“Let him dare to force you,” I cried. “There’s law inthe 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 benefitof clergy!”

“Silence!” said the ruffian. “To the devil with your clamour!I don’t want you to speak. Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myselfremarkably in thinking your father will be miserable: I shall not sleep forsatisfaction. You could have hit on no surer way of fixing your residence undermy roof for the next twenty-four hours than informing me that such an eventwould follow. As to your promise to marry Linton, I’ll take care youshall keep it; for you shall not quit this place till it is fulfilled.”

“Send Ellen, then, to let papa know I’m safe!” exclaimedCatherine, 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 offfor a little amusem*nt,” answered Heathcliff. “You cannot deny thatyou entered my house of your own accord, in contempt of his injunctions to thecontrary. And it is quite natural that you should desire amusem*nt at your age;and that you would weary of nursing a sick man, and that man only yourfather. Catherine, his happiest days were over when your days began. He cursedyou, I dare say, for coming into the world (I did, at least); and it would justdo if he cursed you as he went out of it. I’d join him. Idon’t love you! How should I? Weep away. As far as I can see, it will beyour chief diversion hereafter; unless Linton make amends for other losses: andyour provident parent appears to fancy he may. His letters of advice andconsolation entertained me vastly. In his last he recommended my jewel to becareful of his; and kind to her when he got her. Careful andkind—that’s paternal. But Linton requires his whole stock of careand kindness for himself. Linton can play the little tyrant well. He’llundertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and theirclaws pared. You’ll be able to tell his uncle fine tales of hiskindness, when you get home again, I assure you.”

“You’re right there!” I said; “explain your son’scharacter. Show his resemblance to yourself: and then, I hope, Miss Cathy willthink twice before she takes the co*ckatrice!”

“I don’t much mind speaking of his amiable qualities now,” heanswered; “because she must either accept him or remain a prisoner, andyou along with her, till your master dies. I can detain you both, quiteconcealed, here. If you doubt, encourage her to retract her word, andyou’ll have an opportunity of judging!”

“I’ll not retract my word,” said Catherine. “I’llmarry 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 youwon’t, from mere malice, destroy irrevocably all my happiness. Ifpapa thought I had left him on purpose, and if he died before I returned, couldI bear to live? I’ve given over crying: but I’m going to kneelhere, at your knee; and I’ll not get up, and I’ll not take my eyesfrom your face till you look back at me! No, don’t turn away! dolook! 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 inall your life, uncle? never? Ah! you must look once. I’m sowretched, you can’t help being sorry and pitying me.”

“Keep your eft’s fingers off; and move, or I’ll kickyou!” cried Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. “I’d ratherbe hugged by a snake. How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? Idetest you!”

He shrugged his shoulders: shook himself, indeed, as if his flesh crept withaversion; and thrust back his chair; while I got up, and opened my mouth, tocommence a downright torrent of abuse. But I was rendered dumb in the middle ofthe first sentence, by a threat that I should be shown into a room by myselfthe very next syllable I uttered. It was growing dark—we heard a sound ofvoices at the garden-gate. Our host hurried out instantly: he had hiswits 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 toCatherine. “I wish he would arrive! Who knows but he might take ourpart?”

“It was three servants sent to seek you from the Grange,” saidHeathcliff, overhearing me. “You should have opened a lattice and calledout: but I could swear that chit is glad you didn’t. She’s glad tobe obliged to stay, I’m certain.”

At learning the chance we had missed, we both gave vent to our grief withoutcontrol; and he allowed us to wail on till nine o’clock. Then he bid usgo upstairs, through the kitchen, to Zillah’s chamber; and I whispered mycompanion 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 werefastened in as before. We neither of us lay down: Catherine took her station bythe lattice, and watched anxiously for morning; a deep sigh being the onlyanswer I could obtain to my frequent entreaties that she would try to rest. Iseated myself in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment on mymany derelictions of duty; from which, it struck me then, all the misfortunesof my employers sprang. It was not the case, in reality, I am aware; but itwas, in my imagination, that dismal night; and I thought Heathcliff himselfless guilty than I.

At seven o’clock he came, and inquired if Miss Linton had risen. She ranto the door immediately, and answered, “Yes.” “Here,then,” he said, opening it, and pulling her out. I rose to follow, but heturned the lock again. I demanded my release.

“Be patient,” he replied; “I’ll send up your breakfastin a while.”

I thumped on the panels, and rattled the latch angrily; and Catherine asked whyI was still shut up? He answered, I must try to endure it another hour, andthey went away. I endured it two or three hours; at length, I heard a footstep:not Heathcliff’s.

“I’ve brought you something to eat,” said a voice;“oppen t’ door!”

Complying eagerly, I beheld Hareton, laden with food enough to last me all day.

“Tak’ it,” he added, thrusting the tray into my hand.

“Stay one minute,” I began.

“Nay,” cried he, and retired, regardless of any prayers I couldpour 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 jailor:surly, and dumb, and deaf to every attempt at moving his sense of justice orcompassion.

CHAPTER XXVIII

On the fifth morning, or rather afternoon, a different stepapproached—lighter and shorter; and, this time, the person entered theroom. It was Zillah; donned in her scarlet shawl, with a black silk bonnet onher head, and a willow-basket swung to her arm.

“Eh, dear! Mrs. Dean!” she exclaimed. “Well! there is a talkabout you at Gimmerton. I never thought but you were sunk in the Blackhorsemarsh, and missy with you, till master told me you’d been found, andhe’d lodged you here! What! and you must have got on an island, sure? Andhow long were you in the hole? Did master save you, Mrs. Dean? But you’renot so thin—you’ve not been so poorly, have you?”

“Your master is a true scoundrel!” I replied. “But he shallanswer for it. He needn’t have raised that tale: it shall all be laidbare!”

“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 Icalls 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 likelyyoung lass, and cant Nelly Dean.’ He stared. I thought he had not heardaught, so I told him the rumour. The master listened, and he just smiled tohimself, 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 toflit, when you go up; here is the key. The bog-water got into her head, and shewould have run home quite flighty, but I fixed her till she came round to hersenses. You can bid her go to the Grange at once, if she be able, and carry amessage from me, that her young lady will follow in time to attend thesquire’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 Kenneththinks 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, forthe way was free. On entering the house, I looked about for some one to giveinformation of Catherine. The place was filled with sunshine, and the doorstood wide open; but nobody seemed at hand. As I hesitated whether to go off atonce, or return and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to thehearth. Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy,and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes. “Where is MissCatherine?” I demanded sternly, supposing I could frighten him intogiving intelligence, by catching him thus, alone. He sucked on like aninnocent.

“Is she gone?” I said.

“No,” he replied; “she’s upstairs: she’s not togo; we won’t let her.”

“You won’t let her, little idiot!” I exclaimed. “Directme to her room immediately, or I’ll make you sing out sharply.”

“Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there,” heanswered. “He says I’m not to be soft with Catherine: she’smy wife, and it’s shameful that she should wish to leave me. He says shehates me and wants me to die, that she may have my money; but she shan’thave it: and she shan’t go home! She never shall!—she may cry, andbe sick as much as she pleases!”

He resumed his former occupation, closing his lids, as if he meant to dropasleep.

“Master Heathcliff,” I resumed, “have you forgotten allCatherine’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 throughwind and snow to see you? She wept to miss one evening, because you would bedisappointed; 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 youboth. And you join him against her. That’s fine gratitude, is itnot?”

The corner of Linton’s mouth fell, and he took the sugar-candy from hislips.

“Did she come to Wuthering Heights because she hated you?” Icontinued. “Think for yourself! As to your money, she does not even knowthat you will have any. And you say she’s sick; and yet you leave heralone, up there in a strange house! You who have felt what it is to beso neglected! You could pity your own sufferings; and she pitied them, too; butyou won’t pity hers! I shed tears, Master Heathcliff, you see—anelderly woman, and a servant merely—and you, after pretending suchaffection, and having reason to worship her almost, store every tear you havefor 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. Andshe won’t give over, though I say I’ll call my father. I did callhim once, and he threatened to strangle her if she was not quiet; but she beganagain the instant he left the room, moaning and grieving all night long, thoughI screamed for vexation that I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is Mr. Heathcliff out?” I inquired, perceiving that the wretchedcreature had no power to sympathise with his cousin’s mental tortures.

“He’s in the court,” he replied, “talking to DoctorKenneth; who says uncle is dying, truly, at last. I’m glad, for I shallbe master of the Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as herhouse. It isn’t hers! It’s mine: papa says everything she has ismine. All her nice books are mine; she offered to give me them, and her prettybirds, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of our room, and let her out;but I told her she had nothing to give, they were all, all mine. And then shecried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said I should have that;two pictures in a gold case, on one side her mother, and on the other uncle,when they were young. That was yesterday—I said they were mine,too; and tried to get them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn’t let me:she pushed me off, and hurt me. I shrieked out—that frightensher—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: butpapa 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 herdown, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot.”

“And were you pleased to see her struck?” I asked: having mydesigns in encouraging his talk.

“I winked,” he answered: “I wink to see my father strike adog or a horse, he does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first—she deservedpunishing for pushing me: but when papa was gone, she made me come to thewindow and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, against her teeth, and hermouth filling with blood; and then she gathered up the bits of the picture, andwent and sat down with her face to the wall, and she has never spoken to mesince: and I sometimes think she can’t speak for pain. I don’t liketo think so; but she’s a naughty thing for crying continually; and shelooks so pale and wild, I’m afraid of her.”

“And you can get the key if you choose?” I said.

“Yes, when I am upstairs,” he answered; “but I can’twalk 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 onto his arm, and shut his eyes again.

I considered it best to depart without seeing Mr. Heathcliff, and bring arescue for my young lady from the Grange. On reaching it, the astonishment ofmy fellow-servants to see me, and their joy also, was intense; and when theyheard that their little mistress was safe, two or three were about to hurry upand shout the news at Mr. Edgar’s door: but I bespoke the announcement ofit myself. How changed I found him, even in those few days! He lay an image ofsadness and resignation awaiting his death. Very young he looked: though hisactual age was thirty-nine, one would have called him ten years younger, atleast. He thought of Catherine; for he murmured her name. I touched his hand,and spoke.

“Catherine is coming, dear master!” I whispered; “she isalive and well; and will be here, I hope, to-night.”

I trembled at the first effects of this intelligence: he half rose up, lookedeagerly round the apartment, and then sank back in a swoon. As soon as herecovered, I related our compulsory visit, and detention at the Heights. I saidHeathcliff forced me to go in: which was not quite true. I uttered as little aspossible against Linton; nor did I describe all his father’s brutalconduct—my intentions being to add no bitterness, if I could help it, tohis already overflowing cup.

He divined that one of his enemy’s purposes was to secure the personalproperty, as well as the estate, to his son: or rather himself; yet why he didnot wait till his decease was a puzzle to my master, because ignorant hownearly he and his nephew would quit the world together. However, he felt thathis will had better be altered: instead of leaving Catherine’s fortune ather own disposal, he determined to put it in the hands of trustees for her useduring life, and for her children, if she had any, after her. By that means, itcould not fall to Mr. Heathcliff should Linton die.

Having received his orders, I despatched a man to fetch the attorney, and fourmore, provided with serviceable weapons, to demand my young lady of her jailor.Both parties were delayed very late. The single servant returned first. He saidMr. Green, the lawyer, was out when he arrived at his house, and he had to waittwo hours for his re-entrance; and then Mr. Green told him he had a littlebusiness in the village that must be done; but he would be at ThrushcrossGrange before morning. The four men came back unaccompanied also. They broughtword that Catherine was ill: too ill to quit her room; and Heathcliff would notsuffer them to see her. I scolded the stupid fellows well for listening to thattale, which I would not carry to my master; resolving to take a whole bevy upto the Heights, at daylight, and storm it literally, unless the prisoner werequietly surrendered to us. Her father shall see her, I vowed, and vowedagain, if that devil be killed on his own door-stones in trying to prevent it!

Happily, I was spared the journey and the trouble. I had gone downstairs atthree o’clock to fetch a jug of water; and was passing through the hallwith it in my hand, when a sharp knock at the front door made me jump.“Oh! it is Green,” I said, recollecting myself—“onlyGreen,” and I went on, intending to send somebody else to open it; butthe knock was repeated: not loud, and still importunately. I put the jug on thebanister and hastened to admit him myself. The harvest moon shone clearoutside. It was not the attorney. My own sweet little mistress sprang on myneck sobbing, “Ellen, Ellen! Is papa alive?”

“Yes,” I cried: “yes, my angel, he is, God be thanked, youare 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 herpale face, chafing it into a faint colour with my apron. Then I said I must gofirst, and tell of her arrival; imploring her to say, she should be happy withyoung Heathcliff. She stared, but soon comprehending why I counselled her toutter the falsehood, she assured me she would not complain.

I couldn’t abide to be present at their meeting. I stood outside thechamber-door a quarter of an hour, and hardly ventured near the bed, then. Allwas composed, however: Catherine’s despair was as silent as herfather’s joy. She supported him calmly, in appearance; and he fixed onher features his raised eyes that seemed dilating with ecstasy.

He died blissfully, Mr. Lockwood: he died so. Kissing her cheek, hemurmured,—“I am going to her; and you, darling child, shall come tous!” and never stirred or spoke again; but continued that rapt, radiantgaze, till his pulse imperceptibly stopped and his soul departed. None couldhave noticed the exact minute of his death, it was so entirely without astruggle.

Whether Catherine had spent her tears, or whether the grief were too weighty tolet them flow, she sat there dry-eyed till the sun rose: she sat till noon, andwould still have remained brooding over that deathbed, but I insisted on hercoming 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 toget his instructions how to behave. He had sold himself to Mr. Heathcliff: thatwas 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 hisdelegated authority to the point of insisting that Edgar Linton should not beburied 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 ofits directions. The funeral was hurried over; Catherine, Mrs. Linton Heathcliffnow, was suffered to stay at the Grange till her father’s corpse hadquitted it.

She told me that her anguish had at last spurred Linton to incur the risk ofliberating her. She heard the men I sent disputing at the door, and shegathered the sense of Heathcliff’s answer. It drove her desperate. Lintonwho had been conveyed up to the little parlour soon after I left, was terrifiedinto fetching the key before his father re-ascended. He had the cunning tounlock and re-lock the door, without shutting it; and when he should have goneto bed, he begged to sleep with Hareton, and his petition was granted for once.Catherine stole out before break of day. She dared not try the doors lest thedogs should raise an alarm; she visited the empty chambers and examined theirwindows; and, luckily, lighting on her mother’s, she got easily out ofits lattice, and on to the ground, by means of the fir-tree close by. Heraccomplice suffered for his share in the escape, notwithstanding his timidcontrivances.

CHAPTER XXIX

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, nowventuring conjectures as to the gloomy future.

We had just agreed the best destiny which could await Catherine would be apermission to continue resident at the Grange; at least during Linton’slife: he being allowed to join her there, and I to remain as housekeeper. Thatseemed rather too favourable an arrangement to be hoped for; and yet I didhope, and began to cheer up under the prospect of retaining my home and myemployment, and, above all, my beloved young mistress; when a servant—oneof the discarded ones, not yet departed—rushed hastily in, and said“that devil Heathcliff” was coming through the court: should hefasten the door in his face?

If we had been mad enough to order that proceeding, we had not time. He made noceremony of knocking or announcing his name: he was master, and availed himselfof the master’s privilege to walk straight in, without saying a word. Thesound of our informant’s voice directed him to the library; he enteredand motioning him out, shut the door.

It was the same room into which he had been ushered, as a guest, eighteen yearsbefore: the same moon shone through the window; and the same autumn landscapelay outside. We had not yet lighted a candle, but all the apartment wasvisible, 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. Timehad little altered his person either. There was the same man: his dark facerather 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, whenshe saw him.

“Stop!” he said, arresting her by the arm. “No more runningsaway! Where would you go? I’m come to fetch you home; and I hopeyou’ll be a dutiful daughter and not encourage my son to furtherdisobedience. I was embarrassed how to punish him when I discovered his part inthe business: he’s such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him; butyou’ll see by his look that he has received his due! I brought him downone evening, the day before yesterday, and just set him in a chair, and nevertouched 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 presenceis as potent on his nerves as a ghost; and I fancy he sees me often, though Iam not near. Hareton says he wakes and shrieks in the night by the hourtogether, and calls you to protect him from me; and, whether you like yourprecious mate, or not, you must come: he’s your concern now; I yield allmy interest in him to you.”

“Why not let Catherine continue here,” I pleaded, “and sendMaster Linton to her? As you hate them both, you’d not miss them: theycan 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 meher services for her bread. I’m not going to nurture her in luxury andidleness after Linton is gone. Make haste and get ready, now; and don’toblige me to compel you.”

“I shall,” said Catherine. “Linton is all I have to love inthe 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 tohurt him when I am by, and I defy you to frighten me!”

“You are a boastful champion,” replied Heathcliff; “but Idon’t like you well enough to hurt him: you shall get the full benefit ofthe torment, as long as it lasts. It is not I who will make him hateful toyou—it is his own sweet spirit. He’s as bitter as gall at yourdesertion and its consequences: don’t expect thanks for this nobledevotion. I heard him draw a pleasant picture to Zillah of what he would do ifhe were as strong as I: the inclination is there, and his very weakness willsharpen his wits to find a substitute for strength.”

“I know he has a bad nature,” said Catherine: “he’syour son. But I’m glad I’ve a better, to forgive it; and I know heloves me, and for that reason I love him. Mr. Heathcliff, you havenobody to love you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall stillhave the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery.You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious likehim? 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 hermind to enter into the spirit of her future family, and draw pleasure from thegriefs of her enemies.

“You shall be sorry to be yourself presently,” said herfather-in-law, “if you stand there another minute. Begone, witch, and getyour things!”

She scornfully withdrew. In her absence I began to beg for Zillah’s placeat the Heights, offering to resign mine to her; but he would suffer it on noaccount. He bid me be silent; and then, for the first time, allowed himself aglance round the room and a look at the pictures. Having studied Mrs.Linton’s, he said—“I shall have that home. Not because I needit, 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 youwhat 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, Iwould have stayed there: when I saw her face again—it is hersyet!—he had hard work to stir me; but he said it would change if the airblew 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. AndI bribed the sexton to pull it away when I’m laid there, and slide mineout too; I’ll have it made so: and then by the time Linton gets to ushe’ll not know which is which!”

“You were very wicked, Mr. Heathcliff!” I exclaimed; “wereyou not ashamed to disturb the dead?”

“I disturbed nobody, Nelly,” he replied; “and I gave someease to myself. I shall be a great deal more comfortable now; and you’llhave a better chance of keeping me underground, when I get there. Disturbedher? No! she has disturbed me, night and day, through eighteenyears—incessantly—remorselessly—till yesternight; andyesternight I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the last sleep by thatsleeper, with my heart stopped and my cheek frozen against hers.”

“And if she had been dissolved into earth, or worse, what would you havedreamt 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 atransformation on raising the lid, but I’m better pleased that it shouldnot commence till I share it. Besides, unless I had received a distinctimpression of her passionless features, that strange feeling would hardly havebeen removed. It began oddly. You know I was wild after she died; andeternally, from dawn to dawn, praying her to return to me her spirit! I have astrong faith in ghosts: I have a conviction that they can, and do, exist amongus! The day she was buried, there came a fall of snow. In the evening I went tothe churchyard. It blew bleak as winter—all round was solitary. Ididn’t fear that her fool of a husband would wander up the glen so late;and no one else had business to bring them there. Being alone, and conscioustwo yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said tomyself—‘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 bemotionless, it is sleep.’ I got a spade from the tool-house, and began todelve with all my might—it scraped the coffin; I fell to work with myhands; the wood commenced cracking about the screws; I was on the point ofattaining 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 thisoff,’ I muttered, ‘I wish they may shovel in the earth over usboth!’ and I wrenched at it more desperately still. There was anothersigh, close at my ear. I appeared to feel the warm breath of it displacing thesleet-laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh and blood was by; but, ascertainly 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: notunder me, but on the earth. A sudden sense of relief flowed from my heartthrough every limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and turned consoled atonce: unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me: it remained while Ire-filled the grave, and led me home. You may laugh, if you will; but I wassure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me, and I could not helptalking to her. Having reached the Heights, I rushed eagerly to the door. Itwas fastened; and, I remember, that accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed myentrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and then hurryingupstairs, to my room and hers. I looked round impatiently—I felt her byme—I could almost see her, and yet I could not! I ought tohave sweat blood then, from the anguish of my yearning—from the fervourof 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 andsometimes less, I’ve been the sport of that intolerable torture!Infernal! keeping my nerves at such a stretch that, if they had not resembledcatgut, 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 meether; when I walked on the moors I should meet her coming in. When I went fromhome I hastened to return; she must be somewhere at the Heights, I wascertain! And when I slept in her chamber—I was beaten out of that. Icouldn’t lie there; for the moment I closed my eyes, she was eitheroutside the window, or sliding back the panels, or entering the room, or evenresting her darling head on the same pillow as she did when a child; and I mustopen my lids to see. And so I opened and closed them a hundred times anight—to be always disappointed! It racked me! I’ve often groanedaloud, till that old rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my conscience wasplaying the fiend inside of me. Now, since I’ve seen her, I’mpacified—a little. It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but byfractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope througheighteen years!”

Mr. Heathcliff paused and wiped his forehead; his hair clung to it, wet withperspiration; his eyes were fixed on the red embers of the fire, the brows notcontracted, but raised next the temples; diminishing the grim aspect of hiscountenance, but imparting a peculiar look of trouble, and a painful appearanceof mental tension towards one absorbing subject. He only half addressed me, andI maintained silence. I didn’t like to hear him talk! After a shortperiod he resumed his meditation on the picture, took it down and leant itagainst the sofa to contemplate it at better advantage; and while so occupiedCatherine entered, announcing that she was ready, when her pony should besaddled.

“Send that over to-morrow,” said Heathcliff to me; then turning toher, he added: “You may do without your pony: it is a fine evening, andyou’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 kissedme, her lips felt like ice. “Come and see me, Ellen; don’tforget.”

“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 yourprying at my house!”

He signed her to precede him; and casting back a look that cut my heart, sheobeyed. I watched them, from the window, walk down the garden. Heathcliff fixedCatherine’s arm under his: though she disputed the act at firstevidently; and with rapid strides he hurried her into the alley, whose treesconcealed them.

CHAPTER XXX

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, andwouldn’t let me pass. He said Mrs. Linton was “thrang,” andthe 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 thinksCatherine haughty, and does not like her, I can guess by her talk. My younglady asked some aid of her when she first came; but Mr. Heathcliff told her tofollow her own business, and let his daughter-in-law look after herself; andZillah willingly acquiesced, being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherineevinced a child’s annoyance at this neglect; repaid it with contempt, andthus enlisted my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had doneher some great wrong. I had a long talk with Zillah about six weeks ago, alittle before you came, one day when we foregathered on the moor; and this iswhat she told me.

“The first thing Mrs. Linton did,” she said, “on her arrivalat the Heights, was to run upstairs, without even wishing good-evening to meand Joseph; she shut herself into Linton’s room, and remained tillmorning. Then, while the master and Earnshaw were at breakfast, she entered thehouse, and asked all in a quiver if the doctor might be sent for? her cousinwas very ill.

“‘We know that!’ answered Heathcliff; ‘but his life isnot worth a farthing, and I won’t spend a farthing on him.’

“‘But I cannot tell how to do,’ she said; ‘and ifnobody will help me, he’ll die!’

“‘Walk out of the room,’ cried the master, ‘and let menever hear a word more about him! None here care what becomes of him; if youdo, 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 withthe 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 agreat 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 thekitchen all wildered like, and looked as if she would fain beg assistance; butI 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 noconcern 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 dooragain and seen her sitting crying on the stairs’-top; and then I’veshut myself in quick, for fear of being moved to interfere. I did pity herthen, 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 meout of my wits, by saying, ‘Tell Mr. Heathcliff that his son isdying—I’m sure he is, this time. Get up, instantly, and tellhim.’

“Having uttered this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter of anhour listening and trembling. Nothing stirred—the house was quiet.

“She’s mistaken, I said to myself. He’s got over it. Ineedn’t disturb them; and I began to doze. But my sleep was marred asecond time by a sharp ringing of the bell—the only bell we have, put upon 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 afew minutes came out with a lighted candle, and proceeded to their room. Ifollowed. Mrs. Heathcliff was seated by the bedside, with her hands folded onher 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 youfeel?’

“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 bitternessshe couldn’t conceal, ‘you have left me so long to struggle againstdeath 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 andJoseph, who had been wakened by the ringing and the sound of feet, and heardour talk from outside, now entered. Joseph was fain, I believe, of thelad’s removal; Hareton seemed a thought bothered: though he was moretaken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of Linton. But the master bidhim get off to bed again: we didn’t want his help. He afterwards madeJoseph 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 whichI hardly wondered. I informed Mr. Heathcliff, and hereplied,—‘Well, let her be till after the funeral; and go up nowand then to get her what is needful; and, as soon as she seems better, tellme.’”

Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, according to Zillah; who visited her twice aday, and would have been rather more friendly, but her attempts at increasingkindness were proudly and promptly repelled.

Heathcliff went up once, to show her Linton’s will. He had bequeathed thewhole of his, and what had been her, moveable property, to his father: the poorcreature was threatened, or coaxed, into that act during her week’sabsence, when his uncle died. The lands, being a minor, he could not meddlewith. However, Mr. Heathcliff has claimed and kept them in his wife’sright and his also: I suppose legally; at any rate, Catherine, destitute ofcash and friends, cannot disturb his possession.

“Nobody,” said Zillah, “ever approached her door, except thatonce, but I; and nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of hercoming down into the house was on a Sunday afternoon. She had cried out, when Icarried up her dinner, that she couldn’t bear any longer being in thecold; and I told her the master was going to Thrushcross Grange, and Earnshawand I needn’t hinder her from descending; so, as soon as she heardHeathcliff’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: shecouldn’t comb them out.

“Joseph and I generally go to chapel on Sundays:” the kirk, (youknow, has no minister now, explained Mrs. Dean; and they call theMethodists’ or Baptists’ place, I can’t say which it is, atGimmerton, a chapel.) “Joseph had gone,” she continued, “butI thought proper to bide at home. Young folks are always the better for anelder’s over-looking; and Hareton, with all his bashfulness, isn’ta model of nice behaviour. I let him know that his cousin would very likely sitwith us, and she had been always used to see the Sabbath respected; so he hadas good leave his guns and bits of indoor work alone, while she stayed. Hecoloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands and clothes. Thetrain-oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a minute. I saw he meant togive 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 helphim, if he would, and joked at his confusion. He grew sullen, and began toswear.

“Now, Mrs. Dean,” Zillah went on, seeing me not pleased by hermanner, “you happen think your young lady too fine for Mr. Hareton; andhappen you’re right: but I own I should love well to bring her pride apeg 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’resaving, and I’m doing my little all that road.”

Hareton allowed Zillah to give him her aid; and she flattered him into a goodhumour; so, when Catherine came, half forgetting her former insults, he triedto make himself agreeable, by the housekeeper’s account.

“Missis walked in,” she said, “as chill as an icicle, and ashigh as a princess. I got up and offered her my seat in the arm-chair. No, sheturned up her nose at my civility. Earnshaw rose, too, and bid her come to thesettle, and sit close by the fire: he was sure she was starved.

“‘I’ve been starved a month and more,’ she answered,resting on the word as scornful as she could.

“And she got a chair for herself, and placed it at a distance from bothof us. Having sat till she was warm, she began to look round, and discovered anumber of books on the dresser; she was instantly upon her feet again,stretching to reach them: but they were too high up. Her cousin, after watchingher endeavours a while, at last summoned courage to help her; she held herfrock, 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 standbehind as she examined them, and even to stoop and point out what struck hisfancy in certain old pictures which they contained; nor was he daunted by thesaucy style in which she jerked the page from his finger: he contented himselfwith going a bit farther back and looking at her instead of the book. Shecontinued reading, or seeking for something to read. His attention became, bydegrees, quite centred in the study of her thick silky curls: her face hecouldn’t see, and she couldn’t see him. And, perhaps, not quiteawake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, at last heproceeded from staring to touching; he put out his hand and stroked one curl,as gently as if it were a bird. He might have stuck a knife into her neck, shestarted round in such a taking.

“‘Get away this moment! How dare you touch me? Why are you stoppingthere?’ 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 inthe settle very quiet, and she continued turning over her volumes another halfhour; finally, Earnshaw crossed over, and whispered to me.

“‘Will you ask her to read to us, Zillah? I’m stalled ofdoing naught; and I do like—I could like to hear her! Dunnot say I wantedit, but ask of yourseln.’

“‘Mr. Hareton wishes you would read to us, ma’am,’ Isaid, immediately. ‘He’d take it very kind—he’d be muchobliged.’

“She frowned; and looking up, answered—

“‘Mr. Hareton, and the whole set of you, will be good enough tounderstand that I reject any pretence at kindness you have the hypocrisy tooffer! I despise you, and will have nothing to say to any of you! When I wouldhave given my life for one kind word, even to see one of your faces, you allkept off. But I won’t complain to you! I’m driven down here by thecold; not either to amuse you or enjoy your society.’

“‘What could I ha’ done?’ began Earnshaw. ‘Howwas 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, kindlingup at her pertness, ‘I asked Mr. Heathcliff to let me wake foryou—’

“‘Be silent! I’ll go out of doors, or anywhere, rather thanhave 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, freelyenough; and she presently saw fit to retreat to her solitude: but the frost hadset in, and, in spite of her pride, she was forced to condescend to ourcompany, more and more. However, I took care there should be no furtherscorning 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, letthem say the least word to her, and she’ll curl back without respect ofany one. She’ll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him tothrash her; and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows.”

At first, on hearing this account from Zillah, I determined to leave mysituation, 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 anindependent house; and I can see no remedy, at present, unless she could marryagain; and that scheme it does not come within my province to arrange.

* * * * *

Thus ended Mrs. Dean’s story. Notwithstanding the doctor’sprophecy, I am rapidly recovering strength; and though it be only the secondweek in January, I propose getting out on horseback in a day or two, and ridingover to Wuthering Heights, to inform my landlord that I shall spend the nextsix months in London; and, if he likes, he may look out for another tenant totake the place after October. I would not pass another winter here for much.

CHAPTER XXXI

Yesterday was bright, calm, and frosty. I went to the Heights as I proposed: myhousekeeper entreated me to bear a little note from her to her young lady, andI did not refuse, for the worthy woman was not conscious of anything odd in herrequest. The front door stood open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at mylast visit; I knocked and invoked Earnshaw from among the garden-beds; heunchained it, and I entered. The fellow is as handsome a rustic as need beseen. I took particular notice of him this time; but then he does his bestapparently to make the least of his advantages.

I asked if Mr. Heathcliff were at home? He answered, No; but he would be in atdinner-time. It was eleven o’clock, and I announced my intention of goingin and waiting for him; at which he immediately flung down his tools andaccompanied me, in the office of watchdog, not as a substitute for the host.

We entered together; Catherine was there, making herself useful in preparingsome vegetables for the approaching meal; she looked more sulky and lessspirited than when I had seen her first. She hardly raised her eyes to noticeme, and continued her employment with the same disregard to common forms ofpoliteness as before; never returning my bow and good-morning by the slightestacknowledgment.

“She does not seem so amiable,” I thought, “as Mrs. Deanwould persuade me to believe. She’s a beauty, it is true; but not anangel.”

Earnshaw surlily bid her remove her things to the kitchen. “Remove themyourself,” she said, pushing them from her as soon as she had done; andretiring to a stool by the window, where she began to carve figures of birdsand beasts out of the turnip-parings in her lap. I approached her, pretendingto desire a view of the garden; and, as I fancied, adroitly dropped Mrs.Dean’s note on to her knee, unnoticed by Hareton—but she askedaloud, “What is that?” And chucked it off.

“A letter from your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at theGrange,” I answered; annoyed at her exposing my kind deed, and fearfullest it should be imagined a missive of my own. She would gladly have gatheredit up at this information, but Hareton beat her; he seized and put it in hiswaistcoat, saying Mr. Heathcliff should look at it first. Thereat, Catherinesilently turned her face from us, and, very stealthily, drew out herpocket-handkerchief and applied it to her eyes; and her cousin, afterstruggling awhile to keep down his softer feelings, pulled out the letter andflung it on the floor beside her, as ungraciously as he could. Catherine caughtand perused it eagerly; then she put a few questions to me concerning theinmates, rational and irrational, of her former home; and gazing towards thehills, murmured in soliloquy:

“I should like to be riding Minny down there! I should like to beclimbing up there! Oh! I’m tired—I’m stalled,Hareton!” And she leant her pretty head back against the sill, with halfa yawn and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness:neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.

“Mrs. Heathcliff,” I said, after sitting some time mute, “youare not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours? so intimate that I think itstrange you won’t come and speak to me. My housekeeper never wearies oftalking about and praising you; and she’ll be greatly disappointed if Ireturn with no news of or from you, except that you received her letter andsaid 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 herletter, but I have no materials for writing: not even a book from which I mighttear a leaf.”

“No books!” I exclaimed. “How do you contrive to live herewithout them? if I may take the liberty to inquire. Though provided with alarge library, I’m frequently very dull at the Grange; take my booksaway, and I should be desperate!”

“I was always reading, when I had them,” said Catherine; “andMr. Heathcliff never reads; so he took it into his head to destroy my books. Ihave not had a glimpse of one for weeks. Only once, I searched throughJoseph’s store of theology, to his great irritation; and once, Hareton, Icame upon a secret stock in your room—some Latin and Greek, and sometales and poetry: all old friends. I brought the last here—and yougathered them, as a magpie gathers silver spoons, for the mere love ofstealing! They are of no use to you; or else you concealed them in the badspirit that, as you cannot enjoy them, nobody else shall. Perhaps yourenvy counselled Mr. Heathcliff to rob me of my treasures? But I’ve mostof them written on my brain and printed in my heart, and you cannot deprive meof those!”

Earnshaw blushed crimson when his cousin made this revelation of his privateliterary accumulations, and stammered an indignant denial of her accusations.

“Mr. Hareton is desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge,” Isaid, coming to his rescue. “He is not envious, but emulousof your attainments. He’ll be a clever scholar in a few years.”

“And he wants me to sink into a dunce, meantime,” answeredCatherine. “Yes, I hear him trying to spell and read to himself, andpretty blunders he makes! I wish you would repeat Chevy Chase as you didyesterday: it was extremely funny. I heard you; and I heard you turning overthe dictionary to seek out the hard words, and then cursing because youcouldn’t read their explanations!”

The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for hisignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove it. I had a similar notion;and, remembering Mrs. Dean’s anecdote of his first attempt atenlightening the darkness in which he had been reared, Iobserved,—“But, Mrs. Heathcliff, we have each had a commencement,and each stumbled and tottered on the threshold; had our teachers scornedinstead of aiding us, we should stumble and totter yet.”

“Oh!” she replied, “I don’t wish to limit hisacquirements: still, he has no right to appropriate what is mine, and make itridiculous to me with his vile mistakes and mispronunciations! Those books,both prose and verse, are consecrated to me by other associations; and I hateto have them debased and profaned in his mouth! Besides, of all, he hasselected my favourite pieces that I love the most to repeat, as if out ofdeliberate malice.”

Hareton’s chest heaved in silence a minute: he laboured under a severesense of mortification and wrath, which it was no easy task to suppress. Irose, and, from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his embarrassment, took up mystation in the doorway, surveying the external prospect as I stood. He followedmy example, and left the room; but presently reappeared, bearing half a dozenvolumes in his hands, which he threw into Catherine’s lap,exclaiming,—“Take them! I never want to hear, or read, or think ofthem again!”

“I won’t have them now,” she answered. “I shall connectthem with you, and hate them.”

She opened one that had obviously been often turned over, and read a portion inthe drawling tone of a beginner; then laughed, and threw it from her.“And listen,” she continued, provokingly, commencing a verse of anold ballad in the same fashion.

But his self-love would endure no further torment: I heard, and not altogetherdisapprovingly, a manual check given to her saucy tongue. The little wretch haddone her utmost to hurt her cousin’s sensitive though uncultivatedfeelings, and a physical argument was the only mode he had of balancing theaccount, and repaying its effects on the inflictor. He afterwards gathered thebooks and hurled them on the fire. I read in his countenance what anguish itwas to offer that sacrifice to spleen. I fancied that as they consumed, herecalled the pleasure they had already imparted, and the triumph andever-increasing pleasure he had anticipated from them; and I fancied I guessedthe incitement to his secret studies also. He had been content with dailylabour and rough animal enjoyments, till Catherine crossed his path. Shame ather scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompters to higherpursuits; 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 fromthem!” cried Catherine, sucking her damaged lip, and watching theconflagration with indignant eyes.

“You’d better hold your tongue, now,” he answeredfiercely.

And his agitation precluded further speech; he advanced hastily to theentrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed thedoor-stones, Mr. Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered him, andlaying hold of his shoulder asked,—“What’s to do now, mylad?”

“Naught, naught,” he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief andanger in solitude.

Heathcliff gazed after him, and sighed.

“It will be odd if I thwart myself,” he muttered, unconscious thatI was behind him. “But when I look for his father in his face, I findher every day more! How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear tosee 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; andhe looked sparer in person. His daughter-in-law, on perceiving him through thewindow, immediately escaped to the kitchen, so that I remained alone.

“I’m glad to see you out of doors again, Mr. Lockwood,” hesaid, in reply to my greeting; “from selfish motives partly: Idon’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 idlewhim is going to spirit me away. I shall set out for London next week; and Imust give you warning that I feel no disposition to retain Thrushcross Grangebeyond the twelve months I agreed to rent it. I believe I shall not live thereany more.”

“Oh, indeed; you’re tired of being banished from the world, areyou?” he said. “But if you be coming to plead off paying for aplace you won’t occupy, your journey is useless: I never relent inexacting 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 younow,” and I drew my note-book from my pocket.

“No, no,” he replied, coolly; “you’ll leave sufficientbehind to cover your debts, if you fail to return: I’m not in such ahurry. Sit down and take your dinner with us; a guest that is safe fromrepeating his visit can generally be made welcome. Catherine! bring the thingsin: 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 totransgress. Living among clowns and misanthropists, she probably cannotappreciate 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 adieuearly. I would have departed by the back way, to get a last glimpse ofCatherine and annoy old Joseph; but Hareton received orders to lead up myhorse, and my host himself escorted me to the door, so I could not fulfil mywish.

“How dreary life gets over in that house!” I reflected, whileriding down the road. “What a realisation of something more romantic thana fairy tale it would have been for Mrs. Linton Heathcliff, had she and Istruck up an attachment, as her good nurse desired, and migrated together intothe stirring atmosphere of the town!”

CHAPTER XXXII

1802.—This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend inthe north, and on my journey to his abode, I unexpectedly came within fifteenmiles of Gimmerton. The ostler at a roadside public-house was holding a pail ofwater 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’ therharvest.”

“Gimmerton?” I repeated—my residence in that locality hadalready grown dim and dreamy. “Ah! I know. How far is it fromthis?”

“Happen fourteen mile o’er th’ hills; and a roughroad,” 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 aninn. Besides, I could spare a day easily to arrange matters with my landlord,and thus save myself the trouble of invading the neighbourhood again. Havingrested awhile, I directed my servant to inquire the way to the village; and,with great fatigue to our beasts, we managed the distance in some three hours.

I left him there, and proceeded down the valley alone. The grey church lookedgreyer, and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I distinguished a moor-sheepcropping the short turf on the graves. It was sweet, warm weather—toowarm for travelling; but the heat did not hinder me from enjoying thedelightful scenery above and below: had I seen it nearer August, I’m sureit would have tempted me to waste a month among its solitudes. In winternothing more dreary, in summer nothing more divine, than those glens shut in byhills, and those bluff, bold swells of heath.

I reached the Grange before sunset, and knocked for admittance; but the familyhad 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 reclinedon the housesteps, smoking a meditative pipe.

“Is Mrs. Dean within?” I demanded of the dame.

“Mistress Dean? Nay!” she answered, “she doesn’t bidehere: shoo’s up at th’ Heights.”

“Are you the housekeeper, then?” I continued.

“Eea, Aw keep th’ hause,” she replied.

“Well, I’m Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodgeme in, I wonder? I wish to stay all night.”

“T’ maister!” she cried in astonishment. “Whet, whoiverknew yah wur coming? Yah sud ha’ send word. They’s nowt norther drynor 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 almostupset her wits by my unwelcome apparition, I bade her be composed. I would goout for a walk; and, meantime she must try to prepare a corner of asitting-room for me to sup in, and a bedroom to sleep in. No sweeping anddusting, only good fire and dry sheets were necessary. She seemed willing to doher best; though she thrust the hearth-brush into the grates in mistake for thepoker, and malappropriated several other articles of her craft: but I retired,confiding in her energy for a resting-place against my return. WutheringHeights was the goal of my proposed excursion. An after-thought brought meback, when I had quitted the court.

“All well at the Heights?” I inquired of the woman.

“Eea, f’r owt ee knaw!” she answered, skurrying away with apan of hot cinders.

I would have asked why Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange, but it was impossibleto delay her at such a crisis, so I turned away and made my exit, ramblingleisurely along, with the glow of a sinking sun behind, and the mild glory of arising moon in front—one fading, and the other brightening—as Iquitted the park, and climbed the stony by-road branching off to Mr.Heathcliff’s dwelling. Before I arrived in sight of it, all that remainedof day was a beamless amber light along the west: but I could see every pebbleon the path, and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon. I had neither toclimb the gate nor to knock—it yielded to my hand. That is animprovement, I thought. And I noticed another, by the aid of my nostrils; afragrance of stocks and wallflowers wafted on the air from amongst the homelyfruit-trees.

Both doors and lattices were open; and yet, as is usually the case in acoal-district, a fine red fire illumined the chimney: the comfort which the eyederives from it renders the extra heat endurable. But the house of WutheringHeights is so large that the inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing outof its influence; and accordingly what inmates there were had stationedthemselves not far from one of the windows. I could both see them and hear themtalk before I entered, and looked and listened in consequence; being movedthereto 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 youagain. 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 andseated at a table, having a book before him. His handsome features glowed withpleasure, and his eyes kept impatiently wandering from the page to a smallwhite 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, asshe bent to superintend his studies; and her face—it was lucky he couldnot see her face, or he would never have been so steady. I could; and I bit mylip in spite, at having thrown away the chance I might have had of doingsomething besides staring at its smiting beauty.

The task was done, not free from further blunders; but the pupil claimed areward, and received at least five kisses; which, however, he generouslyreturned. Then they came to the door, and from their conversation I judged theywere about to issue out and have a walk on the moors. I supposed I should becondemned in Hareton Earnshaw’s heart, if not by his mouth, to the lowestpit in the infernal regions if I showed my unfortunate person in hisneighbourhood then; and feeling very mean and malignant, I skulked round toseek refuge in the kitchen. There was unobstructed admittance on that sidealso; 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 andintolerance, uttered in far from musical accents.

“I’d rayther, by th’ haulf, hev’ ’em swearingi’ my lugs fro’h morn to neeght, nor hearken ye hahsiver!”said the tenant of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech ofNelly’s. “It’s a blazing shame, that I cannot oppen t’blessed Book, but yah set up them glories to sattan, and all t’ flaysomewickednesses that iver were born into th’ warld! Oh! ye’re a raightnowt; and shoo’s another; and that poor lad ’ll be lost atween ye.Poor lad!” he added, with a groan; “he’s witched: I’msartin on’t. Oh, Lord, judge ’em, for there’s norther law norjustice among wer rullers!”

“No! or we should be sitting in flaming fa*gots, I suppose,”retorted the singer. “But wisht, old man, and read your Bible like aChristian, and never mind me. This is ‘Fairy Annie’sWedding’—a bonny tune—it goes to a dance.”

Mrs. Dean was about to recommence, when I advanced; and recognising medirectly, she jumped to her feet, crying—“Why, bless you, Mr.Lockwood! How could you think of returning in this way? All’s shut up atThrushcross Grange. You should have given us notice!”

“I’ve arranged to be accommodated there, for as long as I shallstay,” I answered. “I depart again to-morrow. And how are youtransplanted here, Mrs. Dean? tell me that.”

“Zillah left, and Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you wentto London, and stay till you returned. But, step in, pray! Have you walked fromGimmerton this evening?”

“From the Grange,” I replied; “and while they make me lodgingroom there, I want to finish my business with your master; because Idon’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,” sheobserved; “or rather with me. She has not learnt to manage her affairsyet, and I act for her: there’s nobody else.”

I looked surprised.

“Ah! you have not heard of Heathcliff’s death, I see,” shecontinued.

“Heathcliff dead!” I exclaimed, astonished. “How longago?”

“Three months since: but sit down, and let me take your hat, andI’ll tell you all about it. Stop, you have had nothing to eat, haveyou?”

“I want nothing: I have ordered supper at home. You sit down too. I neverdreamt of his dying! Let me hear how it came to pass. You say you don’texpect them back for some time—the young people?”

“No—I have to scold them every evening for their late rambles: butthey don’t care for me. At least, have a drink of our old ale; it will doyou good: you seem weary.”

She hastened to fetch it before I could refuse, and I heard Joseph askingwhether “it warn’t a crying scandal that she should have followersat her time of life? And then, to get them jocks out o’ t’maister’s cellar! He fair shaamed to ’bide still and see it.”

She did not stay to retaliate, but re-entered in a minute, bearing a reamingsilver pint, whose contents I lauded with becoming earnestness. And afterwardsshe 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, shesaid; and I obeyed joyfully, for Catherine’s sake. My first interviewwith 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 mycoming here; he only told me he wanted me, and he was tired of seeingCatherine: I must make the little parlour my sitting-room, and keep her withme. It was enough if he were obliged to see her once or twice a day. She seemedpleased at this arrangement; and, by degrees, I smuggled over a great number ofbooks, and other articles, that had formed her amusem*nt at the Grange; andflattered myself we should get on in tolerable comfort. The delusion did notlast long. Catherine, contented at first, in a brief space grew irritable andrestless. For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the garden, and itfretted her sadly to be confined to its narrow bounds as spring drew on; foranother, in following the house, I was forced to quit her frequently, and shecomplained of loneliness: she preferred quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchento sitting at peace in her solitude. I did not mind their skirmishes: butHareton was often obliged to seek the kitchen also, when the master wanted tohave the house to himself; and though in the beginning she either left it athis approach, or quietly joined in my occupations, and shunned remarking oraddressing him—and though he was always as sullen and silent aspossible—after a while, she changed her behaviour, and became incapableof 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 couldsit 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 youdo, 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. “Hetwitched his shoulder as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen.”

“Mr. Hareton will ask the master to send you upstairs, if you don’tbehave!” I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder but clenched hisfist, as if tempted to use it.

“I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen,” sheexclaimed, 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, becauseI 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 beso silly. Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I’lltry!”

She placed one she had been perusing on his hand; he flung it off, andmuttered, 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 hewould not come near it; and so I informed her in the morning, to her greatdisappointment. I saw she was sorry for his persevering sulkiness andindolence: her conscience reproved her for frightening him off improvinghimself: she had done it effectually. But her ingenuity was at work to remedythe injury: while I ironed, or pursued other such stationary employments as Icould not well do in the parlour, she would bring some pleasant volume and readit aloud to me. When Hareton was there, she generally paused in an interestingpart, and left the book lying about: that she did repeatedly; but he was asobstinate as a mule, and, instead of snatching at her bait, in wet weather hetook to smoking with Joseph; and they sat like automatons, one on each side ofthe fire, the elder happily too deaf to understand her wicked nonsense, as hewould have called it, the younger doing his best to seem to disregard it. Onfine evenings the latter followed his shooting expeditions, and Catherineyawned and sighed, and teased me to talk to her, and ran off into the court orgarden the moment I began; and, as a last resource, cried, and said she wastired of living: her life was useless.

Mr. Heathcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had almostbanished Earnshaw from his apartment. Owing to an accident at the commencementof March, he became for some days a fixture in the kitchen. His gun burst whileout on the hills by himself; a splinter cut his arm, and he lost a good deal ofblood before he could reach home. The consequence was that, perforce, he wascondemned to the fireside and tranquillity, till he made it up again. It suitedCatherine to have him there: at any rate, it made her hate her room upstairsmore than ever: and she would compel me to find out business below, that shemight accompany me.

On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimmerton fair with some cattle; and, in theafternoon, I was busy getting up linen in the kitchen. Earnshaw sat, morose asusual, at the chimney corner, and my little mistress was beguiling an idle hourwith drawing pictures on the window-panes, varying her amusem*nt by smotheredbursts of songs, and whispered ejacul*tions, and quick glances of annoyance andimpatience in the direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and lookedinto the grate. At a notice that I could do with her no longer intercepting mylight, she removed to the hearthstone. I bestowed little attention on herproceedings, but, presently, I heard her begin—“I’ve foundout, Hareton, that I want—that I’m glad—that I should likeyou to be my cousin now, if you had not grown so cross to me, and sorough.”

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 handand abstracting it from his mouth.

Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken, and behind the fire. Heswore at her and seized another.

“Stop,” she cried, “you must listen to me first; and Ican’t speak while those clouds are floating in my face.”

“Will you go to the devil!” he exclaimed, ferociously, “andlet me be!”

“No,” she persisted, “I won’t: I can’t tell whatto do to make you talk to me; and you are determined not to understand. When Icall you stupid, I don’t mean anything: I don’t mean that I despiseyou. Come, you shall take notice of me, Hareton: you are my cousin, and youshall own me.”

“I shall have naught to do wi’ you and your mucky pride, and yourdamned mocking tricks!” he answered. “I’ll go to hell, bodyand 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, andendeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing tendency tosob.

“You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton,” Iinterrupted, “since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a greatdeal of good: it would make you another man to have her for a companion.”

“A companion!” he cried; “when she hates me, and does notthink me fit to wipe her shoon! Nay, if it made me a king, I’d not bescorned for seeking her good-will any more.”

“It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!” wept Cathy, nolonger disguising her trouble. “You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliffdoes, and more.”

“You’re a damned liar,” began Earnshaw: “why have Imade him angry, by taking your part, then, a hundred times? and that when yousneered at and despised me, and—Go on plaguing me, and I’ll step inyonder, and say you worried me out of the kitchen!”

“I didn’t know you took my part,” she answered, drying hereyes; “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 andscowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and hisgaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have divined it wasobdurate perversity, and not dislike, that prompted this dogged conduct; for,after remaining an instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek agentle 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 headreprovingly, and then she blushed and whispered—“Well! what shouldI 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 befriends.”

Whether the kiss convinced Hareton, I cannot tell: he was very careful, forsome minutes, that his face should not be seen, and when he did raise it, hewas 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. HaretonEarnshaw,” she desired me to be her ambassadress, and convey the presentto its destined recipient.

“And tell him, if he’ll take it, I’ll come and teach him toread it right,” she said; “and, if he refuse it, I’ll goupstairs, 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 strikeit off, either. I returned to my work. Catherine leaned her head and arms onthe table, till she heard the slight rustle of the covering being removed; thenshe stole away, and quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, andhis 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 herquestioning look, and her murmured petition.

“Say you forgive me, Hareton, do. You can make me so happy by speakingthat 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,” heanswered; “and the more ashamed, the more you know me; and I cannot bideit.”

“So you won’t be my friend?” she said, smiling as sweet ashoney, and creeping close up.

I overheard no further distinguishable talk, but, on looking round again, Iperceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page of the acceptedbook, that I did not doubt the treaty had been ratified on both sides; and theenemies were, thenceforth, sworn allies.

The work they studied was full of costly pictures; and those and their positionhad charm enough to keep them unmoved till Joseph came home. He, poor man, wasperfectly aghast at the spectacle of Catherine seated on the same bench withHareton Earnshaw, leaning her hand on his shoulder; and confounded at hisfavourite’s endurance of her proximity: it affected him too deeply toallow an observation on the subject that night. His emotion was only revealedby the immense sighs he drew, as he solemnly spread his large Bible on thetable, and overlaid it with dirty bank-notes from his pocket-book, the produceof the day’s transactions. At length he summoned Hareton from his seat.

“Tak’ these in to t’ maister, lad,” he said, “andbide there. I’s gang up to my own rahm. This hoile’s neithermensful 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, andI’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 shepassed Hareton, went singing upstairs: lighter of heart, I venture to say, thanever she had been under that roof before; except, perhaps, during her earliestvisits to Linton.

The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly; though it encountered temporaryinterruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young ladywas no philosopher, and no paragon of patience; but both their minds tending tothe same point—one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other lovingand 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 theunion of those two. I shall envy no one on their wedding day: there won’tbe a happier woman than myself in England!

CHAPTER XXXIII

On the morrow of that Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to follow hisordinary employments, and therefore remaining about the house, I speedily foundit would be impracticable to retain my charge beside me, as heretofore. She gotdownstairs before me, and out into the garden, where she had seen her cousinperforming some easy work; and when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I sawshe had persuaded him to clear a large space of ground from currant andgooseberry bushes, and they were busy planning together an importation ofplants from the Grange.

I was terrified at the devastation which had been accomplished in a briefhalf-hour; the black-currant trees were the apple of Joseph’s eye, andshe 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 fortaking such liberties with the garden? We shall have a fine explosion on thehead of it: see if we don’t! Mr. Hareton, I wonder you should have nomore 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 postin making tea and carving; so I was indispensable at table. Catherine usuallysat by me, but to-day she stole nearer to Hareton; and I presently saw shewould have no more discretion in her friendship than she had in her hostility.

“Now, mind you don’t talk with and notice your cousin toomuch,” were my whispered instructions as we entered the room. “Itwill 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 hisplate of porridge.

He dared not speak to her there: he dared hardly look; and yet she went onteasing, till he was twice on the point of being provoked to laugh. I frowned,and then she glanced towards the master: whose mind was occupied on othersubjects than his company, as his countenance evinced; and she grew serious foran instant, scrutinizing him with deep gravity. Afterwards she turned, andrecommenced her nonsense; at last, Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr.Heathcliff started; his eye rapidly surveyed our faces. Catherine met it withher accustomed look of nervousness and yet defiance, which he abhorred.

“It is well you are out of my reach,” he exclaimed. “Whatfiend 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 Ihad 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. Heathclifflooked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his breakfast and hisinterrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and the two young people prudentlyshifted wider asunder, so I anticipated no further disturbance during thatsitting: when Joseph appeared at the door, revealing by his quivering lip andfurious eyes that the outrage committed on his precious shrubs was detected. Hemust have seen Cathy and her cousin about the spot before he examined it, forwhile his jaws worked like those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered hisspeech difficult to understand, he began:—

“I mun hev’ my wage, and I mun goa! I hed aimed to deewheare I’d sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I’d lug my books upinto t’ garret, and all my bits o’ stuff, and they sud hev’t’ kitchen to theirseln; for t’ sake o’ quietness. It wurhard to gie up my awn hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that! But nah,shoo’s taan my garden fro’ me, and by th’ heart, maister, Icannot stand it! Yah may bend to th’ yoak an ye will—I noan used to’t, and an old man doesn’t sooin get used to new barthens.I’d rayther arn my bite an’ my sup wi’ a hammer in th’road!”

“Now, now, idiot!” interrupted Heathcliff, “cut it short!What’s your grievance? I’ll interfere in no quarrels between youand Nelly. She may thrust you into the coal-hole for anything I care.”

“It’s noan Nelly!” answered Joseph. “I sudn’tshift for Nelly—nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannotstale t’ sowl o’ nob’dy! Shoo wer niver soa handsome, butwhat a body mud look at her ’bout winking. It’s yon flaysome,graceless quean, that’s witched our lad, wi’ her bold een and herforrard ways—till—Nay! it fair brusts my heart! He’sforgotten all I’ve done for him, and made on him, and goan and riven up awhole row o’ t’ grandest currant-trees i’ t’garden!” and here he lamented outright; unmanned by a sense of his bitterinjuries, and Earnshaw’s ingratitude and dangerous condition.

“Is the fool drunk?” asked Mr. Heathcliff. “Hareton, is ityou 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 theplace?” demanded her father-in-law, much surprised. “And whoordered you to obey her?” he added, turning to Hareton.

The latter was speechless; his cousin replied—“You shouldn’tgrudge a few yards of earth for me to ornament, when you have taken all myland!”

“Your land, insolent slu*t! You never had any,” said Heathcliff.

“And my money,” she continued; returning his angry glare, andmeantime 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 recklessthing. “Hareton and I are friends now; and I shall tell him all aboutyou!”

The master seemed confounded a moment: he grew pale, and rose up, eyeing herall the while, with an expression of mortal hate.

“If you strike me, Hareton will strike you,” she said; “soyou may as well sit down.”

“If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I’ll strike him tohell,” thundered Heathcliff. “Damnable witch! dare you pretend torouse 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 sightagain!”

Hareton tried, under his breath, to persuade her to go.

“Drag her away!” he cried, savagely. “Are you staying totalk?” 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; “Iwill 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 herrepent it for ever!”

He had his hand in her hair; Hareton attempted to release her locks, entreatinghim not to hurt her that once. Heathcliff’s black eyes flashed; he seemedready to tear Catherine in pieces, and I was just worked up to risk coming tothe rescue, when of a sudden his fingers relaxed; he shifted his grasp from herhead to her arm, and gazed intently in her face. Then he drew his hand over hiseyes, stood a moment to collect himself apparently, and turning anew toCatherine, said, with assumed calmness—“You must learn to avoidputting 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 HaretonEarnshaw, if I see him listen to you, I’ll send him seeking his breadwhere 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 otherfollowed, and Mr. Heathcliff had the room to himself till dinner. I hadcounselled Catherine to dine upstairs; but, as soon as he perceived her vacantseat, he sent me to call her. He spoke to none of us, ate very little, and wentout directly afterwards, intimating that he should not return before evening.

The two new friends established themselves in the house during his absence;where I heard Hareton sternly check his cousin, on her offering a revelation ofher father-in-law’s conduct to his father. He said he wouldn’tsuffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement: if he were the devil, itdidn’t signify; he would stand by him; and he’d rather she wouldabuse himself, as she used to, than begin on Mr. Heathcliff. Catherine waswaxing cross at this; but he found means to make her hold her tongue, by askinghow she would like him to speak ill of her father? Then she comprehendedthat Earnshaw took the master’s reputation home to himself; and wasattached by ties stronger than reason could break—chains, forged byhabit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen. She showed a good heart,thenceforth, in avoiding both complaints and expressions of antipathyconcerning Heathcliff; and confessed to me her sorrow that she had endeavouredto raise a bad spirit between him and Hareton: indeed, I don’t believeshe has ever breathed a syllable, in the latter’s hearing, against heroppressor since.

When this slight disagreement was over, they were friends again, and as busy aspossible in their several occupations of pupil and teacher. I came in to sitwith them, after I had done my work; and I felt so soothed and comforted towatch them, that I did not notice how time got on. You know, they both appearedin 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, andintelligent nature shook off rapidly the clouds of ignorance and degradation inwhich it had been bred; and Catherine’s sincere commendations acted as aspur to his industry. His brightening mind brightened his features, and addedspirit and nobility to their aspect: I could hardly fancy it the sameindividual I had beheld on the day I discovered my little lady at WutheringHeights, after her expedition to the Crags. While I admired and they laboured,dusk drew on, and with it returned the master. He came upon us quiteunexpectedly, entering by the front way, and had a full view of the wholethree, ere we could raise our heads to glance at him. Well, I reflected, therewas never a pleasanter, or more harmless sight; and it will be a burning shameto scold them. The red fire-light glowed on their two bonny heads, and revealedtheir faces animated with the eager interest of children; for, though he wastwenty-three and she eighteen, each had so much of novelty to feel and learn,that neither experienced nor evinced the sentiments of sober disenchantedmaturity.

They lifted their eyes together, to encounter Mr. Heathcliff: perhaps you havenever remarked that their eyes are precisely similar, and they are those ofCatherine Earnshaw. The present Catherine has no other likeness to her, excepta breadth of forehead, and a certain arch of the nostril that makes her appearrather haughty, whether she will or not. With Hareton the resemblance iscarried farther: it is singular at all times, then it was particularlystriking; because his senses were alert, and his mental faculties wakened tounwonted activity. I suppose this resemblance disarmed Mr. Heathcliff: hewalked to the hearth in evident agitation; but it quickly subsided as he lookedat the young man: or, I should say, altered its character; for it was thereyet. He took the book from his hand, and glanced at the open page, thenreturned it without any observation; merely signing Catherine away: hercompanion lingered very little behind her, and I was about to depart also, buthe bid me sit still.

“It is a poor conclusion, is it not?” he observed, having broodeda while on the scene he had just witnessed: “an absurd termination to myviolent exertions? I get levers and mattocks to demolish the two houses, andtrain myself to be capable of working like Hercules, and when everything isready and in my power, I find the will to lift a slate off either roof hasvanished! My old enemies have not beaten me; now would be the precise time torevenge myself on their representatives: I could do it; and none could hinderme. But where is the use? I don’t care for striking: I can’t takethe trouble to raise my hand! That sounds as if I had been labouring the wholetime only to exhibit a fine trait of magnanimity. It is far from being thecase: I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idleto destroy for nothing.

“Nelly, there is a strange change approaching; I’m in its shadow atpresent. I take so little interest in my daily life that I hardly remember toeat and drink. Those two who have left the room are the only objects whichretain a distinct material appearance to me; and that appearance causes mepain, amounting to agony. About her I won’t speak; and Idon’t desire to think; but I earnestly wish she were invisible: herpresence invokes only maddening sensations. He moves me differently: andyet 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 ofpast associations and ideas he awakens or embodies. But you’ll not talkof what I tell you; and my mind is so eternally secluded in itself, it istempting at last to turn it out to another.

“Five minutes ago Hareton seemed a personification of my youth, not ahuman being; I felt to him in such a variety of ways, that it would have beenimpossible to have accosted him rationally. In the first place, his startlinglikeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her. That, however, whichyou may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually theleast: 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! Inevery cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught byglimpses in every object by day—I am surrounded with her image! The mostordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with aresemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that shedid exist, and that I have lost her! Well, Hareton’s aspect was the ghostof my immortal love; of my wild endeavours to hold my right; my degradation, mypride, my happiness, and my anguish—

“But it is frenzy to repeat these thoughts to you: only it will let youknow why, with a reluctance to be always alone, his society is no benefit;rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it partlycontributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I cangive 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, asto his reason, from childhood he had a delight in dwelling on dark things, andentertaining odd fancies. He might have had a monomania on the subject of hisdeparted idol; but on every other point his wits were as sound as mine.

“I shall not know that till it comes,” he said; “I’monly half conscious of it now.”

“You have no feeling of illness, have you?” I asked.

“No, Nelly, I have not,” he answered.

“Then you are not afraid of death?” I pursued.

“Afraid? No!” he replied. “I have neither a fear, nor apresentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution andtemperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probablyshall, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black hair on myhead. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself tobreathe—almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back astiff spring: it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act not prompted byone thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which isnot associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my wholebeing and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it solong, and so unwaveringly, that I’m convinced it will bereached—and soon—because it has devoured my existence: I amswallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have notrelieved me; but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases ofhumour 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 wasinclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience had turned hisheart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it would end. Though he seldombefore had revealed this state of mind, even by looks, it was his habitualmood, I had no doubt: he asserted it himself; but not a soul, from his generalbearing, 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 XXXIV

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 anaversion to yielding so completely to his feelings, choosing rather to absenthimself; and eating once in twenty-four hours seemed sufficient sustenance forhim.

One night, after the family were in bed, I heard him go downstairs, and out atthe front door. I did not hear him re-enter, and in the morning I found he wasstill away. We were in April then: the weather was sweet and warm, the grass asgreen as showers and sun could make it, and the two dwarf apple-trees near thesouthern wall in full bloom. After breakfast, Catherine insisted on my bringinga 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 digand arrange her little garden, which was shifted to that corner by theinfluence of Joseph’s complaints. I was comfortably revelling in thespring fragrance around, and the beautiful soft blue overhead, when my younglady, who had run down near the gate to procure some primrose roots for aborder, returned only half laden, and informed us that Mr. Heathcliff wascoming in. “And he spoke to me,” she added, with a perplexedcountenance.

“What did he say?” asked Hareton.

“He told me to begone as fast as I could,” she answered. “Buthe looked so different from his usual look that I stopped a moment to stare athim.”

“How?” he inquired.

“Why, almost bright and cheerful. No, almost nothing—verymuch excited, and wild, and glad!” she replied.

“Night-walking amuses him, then,” I remarked, affecting a carelessmanner: in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious to ascertain the truthof her statement; for to see the master looking glad would not be an every-dayspectacle. I framed an excuse to go in. Heathcliff stood at the open door; hewas pale, and he trembled: yet, certainly, he had a strange joyful glitter inhis 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 Idid not like to ask directly.

“No, I’m not hungry,” he answered, averting his head, andspeaking rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to divine theoccasion of his good humour.

I felt perplexed: I didn’t know whether it were not a proper opportunityto 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 daresay you’ll catch a bad cold, or a fever: you have something thematter with you now!”

“Nothing but what I can bear,” he replied; “and with thegreatest pleasure, provided you’ll leave me alone: get in, anddon’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 ofillness. I cannot conceive what he has been doing.”

That noon he sat down to dinner with us, and received a heaped-up plate from myhands, as if he intended to make amends for previous fasting.

“I’ve neither cold nor fever, Nelly,” he remarked, inallusion to my morning’s speech; “and I’m ready to do justiceto the food you give me.”

He took his knife and fork, and was going to commence eating, when theinclination appeared to become suddenly extinct. He laid them on the table,looked eagerly towards the window, then rose and went out. We saw him walkingto and fro in the garden while we concluded our meal, and Earnshaw saidhe’d go and ask why he would not dine: he thought we had grieved him someway.

“Well, is he coming?” cried Catherine, when her cousin returned.

“Nay,” he answered; “but he’s not angry: he seemedrarely pleased indeed; only I made him impatient by speaking to him twice; andthen he bid me be off to you: he wondered how I could want the company ofanybody else.”

I set his plate to keep warm on the fender; and after an hour or two here-entered, when the room was clear, in no degree calmer: the sameunnatural—it was unnatural—appearance of joy under his black brows;the same bloodless hue, and his teeth visible, now and then, in a kind ofsmile; his frame shivering, not as one shivers with chill or weakness, but as atight-stretched cord vibrates—a strong thrilling, rather than trembling.

I will ask what is the matter, I thought; or who should? And Iexclaimed—“Have you heard any good news, Mr. Heathcliff? You lookuncommonly animated.”

“Where should good news come from to me?” he said. “I’manimated with hunger; and, seemingly, I must not eat.”

“Your dinner is here,” I returned; “why won’t you getit?”

“I don’t want it now,” he muttered, hastily:“I’ll wait till supper. And, Nelly, once for all, let me beg you towarn Hareton and the other away from me. I wish to be troubled by nobody: Iwish to have this place to myself.”

“Is there some new reason for this banishment?” I inquired.“Tell me why you are so queer, Mr. Heathcliff? Where were you last night?I’m not putting the question through idle curiosity, but—”

“You are putting the question through very idle curiosity,” heinterrupted, with a laugh. “Yet I’ll answer it. Last night I was onthe threshold of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyeson 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 fromprying.”

Having swept the hearth and wiped the table, I departed; more perplexed thanever.

He did not quit the house again that afternoon, and no one intruded on hissolitude; 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 anopen 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 airof the cloudy evening; and so still, that not only the murmur of the beck downGimmerton was distinguishable, but its ripples and its gurgling over thepebbles, or through the large stones which it could not cover. I uttered anejacul*tion of discontent at seeing the dismal grate, and commenced shuttingthe casem*nts, one after another, till I came to his.

“Must I close this?” I asked, in order to rouse him; for he wouldnot stir.

The light flashed on his features as I spoke. Oh, Mr. Lockwood, I cannotexpress what a terrible start I got by the momentary view! Those deep blackeyes! 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 itleft 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—“Themaster wishes you to take him a light and rekindle the fire.” For I darednot go in myself again just then.

Joseph rattled some fire into the shovel, and went: but he brought it backimmediately, with the supper-tray in his other hand, explaining that Mr.Heathcliff was going to bed, and he wanted nothing to eat till morning. Weheard him mount the stairs directly; he did not proceed to his ordinarychamber, but turned into that with the panelled bed: its window, as I mentionedbefore, is wide enough for anybody to get through; and it struck me that heplotted 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 hideousincarnate demons. And then I set myself to reflect how I had tended him ininfancy, and watched him grow to youth, and followed him almost through hiswhole 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 goodman to his bane?” muttered Superstition, as I dozed into unconsciousness.And I began, half dreaming, to weary myself with imagining some fit parentagefor him; and, repeating my waking meditations, I tracked his existence overagain, with grim variations; at last, picturing his death and funeral: ofwhich, all I can remember is, being exceedingly vexed at having the task ofdictating 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 tocontent ourselves with the single word, “Heathcliff.” That cametrue: 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 asI could see, to ascertain if there were any footmarks under his window. Therewere none. “He has stayed at home,” I thought, “andhe’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 themaster came down, for he lay late. They preferred taking it out of doors, underthe trees, and I set a little table to accommodate them.

On my re-entrance, I found Mr. Heathcliff below. He and Joseph were conversingabout some farming business; he gave clear, minute directions concerning thematter discussed, but he spoke rapidly, and turned his head continually aside,and had the same excited expression, even more exaggerated. When Joseph quittedthe room he took his seat in the place he generally chose, and I put a basin ofcoffee 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 particularportion, up and down, with glittering, restless eyes, and with such eagerinterest 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 anhour.”

He didn’t notice me, and yet he smiled. I’d rather have seen himgnash his teeth than smile so.

“Mr. Heathcliff! master!” I cried, “don’t, forGod’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 ofhis hand he cleared a vacant space in front among the breakfast things, andleant 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 inexquisite extremes: at least the anguished, yet raptured, expression of hiscountenance suggested that idea. The fancied object was not fixed, either: hiseyes pursued it with unwearied diligence, and, even in speaking to me, werenever weaned away. I vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence fromfood: if he stirred to touch anything in compliance with my entreaties, if hestretched his hand out to get a piece of bread, his fingers clenched beforethey reached it, and remained on the table, forgetful of their aim.

I sat, a model of patience, trying to attract his absorbed attention from itsengrossing speculation; till he grew irritable, and got up, asking why I wouldnot allow him to have his own time in taking his meals? and saying that on thenext occasion I needn’t wait: I might set the things down and go. Havinguttered 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 resttill 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, andtossed about, and, finally, dressed and descended. It was too irksome to liethere, 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 ofCatherine, coupled with some wild term of endearment or suffering; and spokenas one would speak to a person present; low and earnest, and wrung from thedepth of his soul. I had not courage to walk straight into the apartment; but Idesired to divert him from his reverie, and therefore fell foul of the kitchenfire, stirred it, and began to scrape the cinders. It drew him forth soonerthan 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 takeupstairs: 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 theroom.”

“I must blow the coals red first, before I can carry any,” Ireplied, getting a chair and the bellows.

He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching distraction; his heavysighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space for common breathingbetween.

“When day breaks I’ll send for Green,” he said; “I wishto make some legal inquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on thosematters, and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet; and how toleave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from theface of the earth.”

“I would not talk so, Mr. Heathcliff,” I interposed. “Letyour will be a while: you’ll be spared to repent of your many injusticesyet! I never expected that your nerves would be disordered: they are, atpresent, marvellously so, however; and almost entirely through your own fault.The way you’ve passed these three last days might knock up a Titan. Dotake some food, and some repose. You need only look at yourself in a glass tosee how you require both. Your cheeks are hollow, and your eyes blood-shot,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, assoon as I possibly can. But you might as well bid a man struggling in the waterrest within arms’ length of the shore! I must reach it first, and thenI’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; andyet I’m not happy enough. My soul’s bliss kills my body, but doesnot satisfy itself.”

“Happy, master?” I cried. “Strange happiness! If you wouldhear me without being angry, I might offer some advice that would make youhappier.”

“What is that?” he asked. “Give it.”

“You are aware, Mr. Heathcliff,” I said, “that from the timeyou were thirteen years old you have lived a selfish, unchristian life; andprobably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that period. You must haveforgotten the contents of the book, and you may not have space to search itnow. Could it be hurtful to send for some one—some minister of anydenomination, it does not matter which—to explain it, and show you howvery far you have erred from its precepts; and how unfit you will be for itsheaven, unless a change takes place before you die?”

“I’m rather obliged than angry, Nelly,” he said, “foryou remind me of the manner in which I desire to be buried. It is to be carriedto the churchyard in the evening. You and Hareton may, if you please, accompanyme: and mind, particularly, to notice that the sexton obeys my directionsconcerning the two coffins! No minister need come; nor need anything be saidover me.—I tell you I have nearly attained my heaven; and that ofothers is altogether unvalued and uncoveted by me.”

“And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast, and died by thatmeans, and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the kirk?” Isaid, shocked at his godless indifference. “How would you like it?”

“They won’t do that,” he replied: “if they did, youmust 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 hisden, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph and Hareton wereat their work, he came into the kitchen again, and, with a wild look, bid mecome and sit in the house: he wanted somebody with him. I declined; telling himplainly that his strange talk and manner frightened me, and I had neither thenerve 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 turningto Catherine, who was there, and who drew behind me at his approach, he added,half sneeringly,—“Will you come, chuck? I’ll not hurtyou. No! to you I’ve made myself worse than the devil. Well, there isone who won’t shrink from my company! By God! she’srelentless. Oh, damn it! It’s unutterably too much for flesh and blood tobear—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 andmurmuring to himself. Hareton was anxious to enter; but I bid him fetch Mr.Kenneth, and he should go in and see him. When he came, and I requestedadmittance and tried to open the door, I found it locked; and Heathcliff bid usbe 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 windowswinging open, and the rain driving straight in. He cannot be in bed, Ithought: 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 thepanels, 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 andfierce, I started; and then he seemed to smile. I could not think him dead: buthis face and throat were washed with rain; the bed-clothes dripped, and he wasperfectly still. The lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand thatrested on the sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put myfingers 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 toclose his eyes: to extinguish, if possible, that frightful, life-like gaze ofexultation before any one else beheld it. They would not shut: they seemed tosneer 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 upand made a noise, but resolutely refused to meddle with him.

“Th’ divil’s harried off his soul,” he cried,“and he may hev’ his carcass into t’ bargin, for aught Icare! Ech! what a wicked ’un he looks, girning at death!” and theold sinner grinned in mockery. I thought he intended to cut a caper round thebed; but suddenly composing himself, he fell on his knees, and raised hishands, and returned thanks that the lawful master and the ancient stock wererestored to their rights.

I felt stunned by the awful event; and my memory unavoidably recurred to formertimes 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 himwith that strong grief which springs naturally from a generous heart, though itbe tough as tempered steel.

Mr. Kenneth was perplexed to pronounce of what disorder the master died. Iconcealed the fact of his having swallowed nothing for four days, fearing itmight 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 thewhole attendance. The six men departed when they had let it down into thegrave: we stayed to see it covered. Hareton, with a streaming face, dug greensods, and laid them over the brown mould himself: at present it is as smoothand verdant as its companion mounds—and I hope its tenant sleeps assoundly. But the country folks, if you ask them, would swear on the Bible thathe walks: there are those who speak to having met him near the church,and on the moor, and even within this house. Idle tales, you’ll say, andso 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 hisdeath:—and an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going tothe Grange one evening—a dark evening, threatening thunder—and,just at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a little boy with a sheep andtwo lambs before him; he was crying terribly; and I supposed the lambs wereskittish, and would not be guided.

“What is the matter, my little man?” I asked.

“There’s Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t’ nab,”he blubbered, “un’ I darnut pass ’em.”

I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on, so I bid him take theroad lower down. He probably raised the phantoms from thinking, as he traversedthe moors alone, on the nonsense he had heard his parents and companionsrepeat. Yet, still, I don’t like being out in the dark now; and Idon’t like being left by myself in this grim house: I cannot help it; Ishall 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, andthat 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 himcompany. 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 believethe 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 theirapproach through the window. “Together, they would brave Satan and allhis legions.”

As they stepped on to the door-stones, and halted to take a last look at themoon—or, more correctly, at each other by her light—I feltirresistibly impelled to escape them again; and, pressing a remembrance intothe hand of Mrs. Dean, and disregarding her expostulations at my rudeness, Ivanished through the kitchen as they opened the house-door; and so should haveconfirmed Joseph in his opinion of his fellow-servant’s gayindiscretions, had he not fortunately recognised me for a respectable characterby the sweet ring of a sovereign at his feet.

My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the kirk. Whenbeneath 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, hereand there, beyond the right line of the roof, to be gradually worked off incoming autumn storms.

I sought, and soon discovered, the three headstones on the slope next the moor:the middle one grey, and half buried in heath; Edgar Linton’s onlyharmonized by the turf and moss creeping up its foot; Heathcliff’s stillbare.

I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths flutteringamong the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through thegrass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for thesleepers in that quiet earth.

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