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\title{Wuthering Heights}


\author{Emily Brontë}

\maketitle
\vspace*{\stretch{1}}

\noindent This public-domain (U.S.) text was scanned and proofed by
David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. The Project Gutenberg edition
({}``wuthr10'') was then converted to \LaTeX{} using \textbf{GutenMark}
software and re-edited (to correct formatting) by Ron Burkey. Report
problems to info@sandroid.org. Revision A1 differs from revision A
in that various obvious formatting errors were corrected.

\begin{center}\textbf{Revision:} A1\\
 \textbf{Date:} 01/23/2008\end{center}

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\frontmatter

\pagestyle{myheadings} {\footnotesize \tableofcontents{}}

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\mainmatter


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER I}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER I}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER I}

1801.---I have just returned from a visit to my landlord---the solitary
neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful
country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed
on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect
misanthropist's heaven: and Mr.\ Heathcliff and I are such a suitable
pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little
imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes
withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when
his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still
further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.

`Mr.\ Heathcliff?'\ I said.

A nod was the answer.

`Mr.\ Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling
as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have
not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation
of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts---'

`Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing. `I should
not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it---walk
in!'

The `walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment,
`Go to the Deuce:' even the gate over which he leant manifested no
sympathising movement to the words; and I think that circumstance
determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man
who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put
out his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway,
calling, as we entered the court,---`Joseph, take Mr.\ Lockwood's
horse; and bring up some wine.'

`Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,' was
the reflection suggested by this compound order. `No wonder the grass
grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.'

Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though
hale and sinewy. `The Lord help us!'\ he soliloquised in an undertone
of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime,
in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need
of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had
no reference to my unexpected advent.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr.\ Heathcliff's dwelling. `Wuthering'
being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric
tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing
ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may
guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive
slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range
of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving
alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it
strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners
defended with large jutting stones.

Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque
carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal
door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless
little boys, I detected the date `1500,' and the name `Hareton Earnshaw.'
I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of
the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared
to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no
desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.

One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory
lobby or passage: they call it here `the house' pre-eminently. It
includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering
Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter:
at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary
utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling,
or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans
and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly
both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed
with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak
dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn:
its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame
of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton,
and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old
guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three
gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was
of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures,
painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In
an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer,
surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted
other recesses.

The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary
as belonging to a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance,
and stalwart limbs set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters.
Such an individual seated in his arm-chair, his mug of ale frothing
on the round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five
or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right time after
dinner. But Mr.\ Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode
and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress
and manners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country
squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence,
because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose. Possibly,
some people might suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride; I have
a sympathetic chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort:
I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy
displays of feeling---to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He'll
love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence
to be loved or hated again. No, I'm running on too fast: I bestow
my own attributes over-liberally on him. Mr.\ Heathcliff may have
entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when
he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those which actuate me. Let me
hope my constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say
I should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved
myself perfectly unworthy of one.

While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was thrown
into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in
my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me. I `never told my love'
vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have
guessed I was over head and ears: she understood me at last, and looked
a return---the sweetest of all imaginable looks. And what did I do?
I confess it with shame---shrunk icily into myself, like a snail;
at every glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor
innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion
at her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp. By this curious
turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness;
how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

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

`You'd better let the dog alone,' growled Mr.\ Heathcliff in unison,
checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot. `She's not
accustomed to be spoiled---not kept for a pet.' Then, striding to
a side door, he shouted again, `Joseph!'

Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave
no intimation of ascending; so his master dived down to him, leaving
me \textit{vis}-\emph{\`{a}}-\textit{vis} the ruffianly bitch and
a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her a jealous guardianship
over all my movements. Not anxious to come in contact with their fangs,
I sat still; but, imagining they would scarcely understand tacit insults,
I unfortunately indulged in winking and making faces at the trio,
and some turn of my physiognomy so irritated madam, that she suddenly
broke into a fury and leapt on my knees. I flung her back, and hastened
to interpose the table between us. This proceeding aroused the whole
hive: half-a-dozen four-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages,
issued from hidden dens to the common centre. I felt my heels and
coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and parrying off the larger
combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, I was constrained
to demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household in re-establishing
peace.

Mr.\ Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious
phlegm: I don't think they moved one second faster than usual, though
the hearth was an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping. Happily,
an inhabitant of the kitchen made more despatch: a lusty dame, with
tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the
midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her
tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically, and she
only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master
entered on the scene.

`What the devil is the matter?'\ he asked, eyeing me in a manner
that I could ill endure, after this inhospitable treatment.

`What the devil, indeed!'\ I muttered. `The herd of possessed swine
could have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours,
sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!'

`They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting
the bottle before me, and restoring the displaced table. `The dogs
do right to be vigilant. Take a glass of wine?'

`No, thank you.'

`Not bitten, are you?'

`If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.' Heathcliff's
countenance relaxed into a grin.

`Come, come,' he said, `you are flurried, Mr.\ Lockwood. Here, take
a little wine. Guests are so exceedingly rare in this house that I
and my dogs, I am willing to own, hardly know how to receive them.
Your health, sir?'

I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive that it would
be foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs;
besides, I felt loth to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense;
since his humour took that turn. He---probably swayed by prudential
consideration of the folly of offending a good tenant---relaxed a
little in the laconic style of chipping off his pronouns and auxiliary
verbs, and introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest
to me,---a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of my present
place of retirement. I found him very intelligent on the topics we
touched; and before I went home, I was encouraged so far as to volunteer
another visit to-morrow. He evidently wished no repetition of my intrusion.
I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feel
myself compared with him.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER II}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER II}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER II}

Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend
it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering
Heights. On coming up from dinner, however, (\emph{N.B}.---I dine
between twelve and one o'clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady,
taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not,
comprehend my request that I might be served at five)---on mounting
the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the room, I
saw a servant-girl on her knees surrounded by brushes and coal-scuttles,
and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the flames with heaps
of cinders. This spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat,
and, after a four-miles' walk, arrived at Heathcliff's garden-gate
just in time to escape the first feathery flakes of a snow-shower.

On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and
the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove
the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged causeway bordered
with straggling gooseberry-bushes, knocked vainly for admittance,
till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.

`Wretched inmates!'\ I ejaculated, mentally, `you deserve perpetual
isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least,
I would not keep my doors barred in the day-time. I don't care---I
will get in!' So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it vehemently.
Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round window of the
barn.

`What are ye for?'\ he shouted. `T' maister's down i' t' fowld. Go
round by th' end o' t' laith, if ye went to spake to him.'

`Is there nobody inside to open the door?'\ I hallooed, responsively.

`There's nobbut t' missis; and shoo'll not oppen 't an ye mak' yer
flaysome dins till neeght.'

`Why? Cannot you tell her 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 the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after
marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed,
pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful
apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully in
the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood;
and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased
to observe the `missis,' an individual whose existence I had never
previously suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me
take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained
motionless and mute.

`Rough weather!'\ I remarked. `I'm afraid, Mrs.\ Heathcliff, the
door must bear the consequence of your servants' leisure attendance:
I had hard work to make them hear me.'

She never opened her mouth. I stared---she stared also: at any rate,
she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly
embarrassing and disagreeable.

`Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly. `He'll be in soon.'

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

`A beautiful animal!'\ I commenced again. `Do you intend parting
with the little ones, madam?'

`They are not mine,' said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than
Heathcliff himself could have replied.

`Ah, your favourites are among these?'\ I continued, turning to an
obscure cushion full of something like cats.

`A strange choice of favourites!'\ she observed scornfully.

Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits. I hemmed once more, and
drew closer to the hearth, repeating my comment on the wildness of
the evening.

`You should not have come out,' she said, rising and reaching from
the chimney-piece two of the painted canisters.

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

`I don't want your help,' she snapped; `I can get them for myself.'

`I beg your pardon!'\ I hastened to reply.

`Were you asked to tea?'\ she demanded, tying an apron over her neat
black frock, and standing with a spoonful of the leaf poised over
the pot.

`I shall be glad to have a cup,' I answered.

`Were you asked?'\ she repeated.

`No,' I said, half smiling. `You are the proper person to ask me.'

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

Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby
upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down
on me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were
some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he
were a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely
devoid of the superiority observable in Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Heathcliff;
his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached
bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those
of a common labourer: still his bearing was free, almost haughty,
and he showed none of a domestic's assiduity in attending on the lady
of the house. In the absence of clear proofs of his condition, I deemed
it best to abstain from noticing his curious conduct; and, five minutes
afterwards, the entrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure,
from my uncomfortable state.

`You see, sir, I am come, according to promise!'\ I exclaimed, assuming
the cheerful; `and I fear I shall be weather-bound for half an hour,
if you can afford me shelter during that space.'

`Half an hour?'\ he said, shaking the white flakes from his clothes;
`I wonder you should select the thick of a snow-storm to ramble about
in. Do you know that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes?
People familiar with these moors often miss their road on such evenings;
and I can tell you there is no chance of a change at present.'

`Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might stay at the
Grange till morning---could you spare me one?'

`No, I could not.'

`Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own sagacity.'

`Umph!'

`Are you going to mak' the tea?'\ demanded he of the shabby coat,
shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.

`Is \textit{he} to have any?'\ she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.

`Get it ready, will you?'\ was the answer, uttered so savagely that
I started. The tone in which the words were said revealed a genuine
bad nature. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital
fellow. When the preparations were finished, he invited me with---`Now,
sir, bring forward your chair.' And we all, including the rustic youth,
drew round the table: an austere silence prevailing while we discussed
our meal.

I thought, if I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort
to dispel it. They could not every day sit so grim and taciturn; and
it was impossible, however ill-tempered they might be, that the universal
scowl they wore was their every-day countenance.

`It is strange,' I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of
tea and receiving another---`it is strange how custom can mould our
tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness
in a life of such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr.\ Heathcliff;
yet, I'll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with
your amiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart---'

`My amiable lady!'\ he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer
on his face. `Where is she---my amiable lady?'

`Mrs.\ Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.'

`Well, yes---oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the
post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights,
even when her body is gone. Is that it?'

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

Then it flashed on me---`The clown at my elbow, who is drinking his
tea out of a basin and eating his bread with unwashed hands, may be
her husband: Heathcliff junior, of course. Here is the consequence
of being buried alive: she has thrown herself away upon that boor
from sheer ignorance that better individuals existed! A sad pity---I
must beware how I cause her to regret her choice.' The last reflection
may seem conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck me as bordering
on repulsive; I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.

`Mrs.\ Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law,' said Heathcliff, corroborating
my surmise. He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction:
a look of hatred; unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles
that will not, like those of other people, interpret the language
of his soul.

`Ah, certainly---I see now: you are the favoured possessor of the
beneficent fairy,' I remarked, turning to my neighbour.

This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his
fist, with every appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed
to recollect himself presently, and smothered the storm in a brutal
curse, muttered on my behalf: which, however, I took care not to notice.

`Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,' observed my host; `we neither
of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead.
I said she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married
my son.'

`And this young man is---'

`Not my son, assuredly.'

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

`My name is Hareton Earnshaw,' growled the other; `and I'd counsel
you to respect it!'

`I've shown no disrespect,' was my reply, laughing internally at the
dignity with which he announced himself.

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

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

`I don't think it possible for me to get home now without a guide,'
I could not help exclaiming. `The roads will be buried already; and,
if they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.'

`Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch. They'll be
covered if left in the fold all night: and put a plank before them,'
said Heathcliff.

`How must I do?'\ I continued, with rising irritation.

There was no reply to my question; and on looking round I saw only
Joseph bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs, and Mrs.\ Heathcliff
leaning over the fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of
matches which had fallen from the chimney-piece as she restored the
tea-canister to its place. The former, when he had deposited his burden,
took a critical survey of the room, and in cracked tones grated out---`Aw
wonder how yah can faishion to stand thear i' idleness un war, when
all on 'ems goan out! Bud yah're a nowt, and it's no use talking---yah'll
niver mend o'yer ill ways, but goa raight to t' divil, like yer mother
afore ye!'

I imagined, for a moment, that this piece of eloquence was addressed
to me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal
with an intention of kicking him out of the door. Mrs.\ Heathcliff,
however, checked me by her answer.

`You scandalous old hypocrite!'\ she replied. `Are you not afraid
of being carried away bodily, whenever you mention the devil's name?
I warn you to refrain from provoking me, or I'll ask your abduction
as a special favour! Stop!\ look here, Joseph,' she continued, taking
a long, dark book from a shelf; `I'll show you how far I've progressed
in the Black Art: I shall soon be competent to make a clear house
of it. The red cow didn't die by chance; and your rheumatism can hardly
be reckoned among providential visitations!'

`Oh, wicked, wicked!'\ gasped the elder; `may the Lord deliver us
from evil!'

`No, reprobate!\ you are a castaway---be off, or I'll hurt you seriously!
I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay!\ and the first who passes
the limits I fix shall---I'll not say what he shall be done to---but,
you'll see! Go, I'm looking at you!'

The little witch put a mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and
Joseph, trembling with sincere horror, hurried out, praying, and ejaculating
`wicked' as he went. I thought her conduct must be prompted by a species
of dreary fun; and, now that we were alone, I endeavoured to interest
her in my distress.

`Mrs.\ Heathcliff,' I said earnestly, `you must excuse me for troubling
you. I presume, because, with that face, I'm sure you cannot help
being good-hearted. Do point out some landmarks by which I may know
my way home: I have no more idea how to get there than you would have
how to get to London!'

`Take the road you came,' she answered, ensconcing herself in a chair,
with a candle, and the long book open before her. `It is brief advice,
but as sound as I can give.'

`Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead in a bog or a pit full
of snow, your conscience won't whisper that it is partly your fault?'

`How so? I cannot escort you. They would\-n't let me go to the end
of the garden wall.'

\textit{`You}! I should be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold,
for my convenience, on such a night,' I cried. `I want you to tell
me my way, not to \textit{show} it: or else to persuade Mr.\ Heathcliff
to give me a guide.'

`Who? There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph and I.\  Which would
you have?'

`Are there no boys at the farm?'

`No; those are all.'

`Then, it follows that I am compelled to stay.'

`That you may settle with your host. I have nothing to do with it.'

`I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more rash journeys on
these hills,' cried Heathcliff's stern voice from the kitchen entrance.
`As to staying here, I don't keep accommodations for visitors: you
must share a bed with Hareton or Joseph, if you do.'

`I can sleep on a chair in this room,' I replied.

`No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: it will not
suit me to permit any one the range of the place while I am off guard!'\ said
the unmannerly wretch.

With this insult my patience was at an end. I uttered an expression
of disgust, and pushed past him into the yard, running against Earnshaw
in my haste. It was so dark that I could not see the means of exit;
and, as I wandered round, I heard another specimen of their civil
behaviour amongst each other. At first the young man appeared about
to befriend me.

`I'll go with him as far as the park,' he said.

`You'll go with him to hell!'\ exclaimed his master, or whatever
relation he bore. `And who is to look after the horses, eh?'

`A man's life is of more consequence than one evening's neglect of
the horses: somebody must go,' murmured Mrs.\ Heathcliff, more kindly
than I expected.

`Not at your command!'\ retorted Hareton. `If you set store on him,
you'd better be quiet.'

`Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr.\ Heathcliff
will never get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin,' she answered,
sharply.

`Hearken, hearken, shoo's cursing on 'em!'\ muttered Joseph, towards
whom I had been steering.

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

`Maister, maister, he's staling t' lanthern!'\ shouted the ancient,
pursuing my retreat. `Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey Wolf, holld him,
holld him!'

On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at my throat,
bearing me down, and extinguishing the light; while a mingled guffaw
from Heathcliff and Hareton put the copestone on my rage and humiliation.
Fortunately, the beasts seemed more bent on stretching their paws,
and yawning, and flourishing their tails, than devouring me alive;
but they would suffer no resurrection, and I was forced to lie till
their malignant masters pleased to deliver me: then, hatless and trembling
with wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out---on their peril
to keep me one minute longer---with several incoherent threats of
retaliation that, in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked
of King Lear.

The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the
nose, and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded. I don't know
what would have concluded the scene, had there not been one person
at hand rather more rational than myself, and more benevolent than
my entertainer. This was Zillah, the stout housewife; who at length
issued forth to inquire into the nature of the uproar. She thought
that some of them had been laying violent hands on me; and, not daring
to attack her master, she turned her vocal artillery against the younger
scoundrel.

`Well, Mr.\ Earnshaw,' she cried, `I wonder what you'll have agait
next? Are we going to murder folk on our very door-stones? I see this
house will never do for me---look at t' poor lad, he's fair choking!
Wisht, wisht; you mun'n't go on so. Come in, and I'll cure that: there
now, hold ye still.'

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

I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint; and thus compelled perforce
to accept lodgings under his roof. He told Zillah to give me a glass
of brandy, and then passed on to the inner room; while she condoled
with me on my sorry predicament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby
I was somewhat revived, ushered me to bed.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER III}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER III}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{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 she would put me in, and never let anybody lodge
there willingly. I asked the reason. She did not know, she answered:
she had only lived there a year or two; and they had so many queer
goings on, she could not begin to be curious.

Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced
round for the bed. The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press,
and a large oak case, with squares cut out near the top resembling
coach windows. Having approached this structure, I looked inside,
and perceived it to be a singular sort of old-fashioned couch, very
conveniently designed to obviate the necessity for every member of
the family having a room to himself. In fact, it formed a little closet,
and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served as a table. I
slid back the panelled sides, got in with my light, pulled them together
again, and felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every
one else.

The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled
up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the
paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all
kinds of characters, large and small---\textit{Catherine} \textit{Earnshaw},
here and there varied to \textit{Catherine} \textit{Heathcliff}, and
then again to \textit{Catherine} \textit{Linton}.

In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued
spelling over Catherine Earnshaw---Heathcliff---Linton, till my eyes
closed; but they had not rested five minutes when a glare of white
letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres---the air swarmed
with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive name,
I discovered my candle-wick reclining on one of the antique volumes,
and perfuming the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin. I snuffed
it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence of cold and lingering
nausea, sat up and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was
a Testament, in lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty: a fly-leaf
bore the inscription---`Catherine Earnshaw, her book,' and a date
some quarter of a century back. I shut it, and took up another and
another, till I had examined all. Catherine's library was select,
and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though
not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had
escaped, a pen-and-ink commentary---at least the appearance of one---covering
every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached
sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled
in an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page (quite
a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I was greatly amused
to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,---rudely, yet
powerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the
unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

`An awful Sunday,' commenced the paragraph beneath. `I wish my father
were back again. Hindley is a detestable substitute---his conduct
to Heathcliff is atrocious---H.\ and I are going to rebel---we took
our initiatory step this evening.

`All day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so
Joseph must needs get up a congregation in the garret; and, while
Hindley and his wife basked downstairs before a comfortable fire---doing
anything but reading their Bibles, I'll answer for it---Heathcliff,
myself, and the unhappy ploughboy were commanded to take our prayer-books,
and mount: we were ranged in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and
shivering, and hoping that Joseph would shiver too, so that he might
give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea! The service
lasted precisely three hours; and yet my brother had the face to exclaim,
when he saw us descending, {}``What, done already?'' On Sunday evenings
we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; now
a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.

`{}{}``You forget you have a master here,'' says the tyrant. {}``I'll
demolish the first who puts me out of temper! I insist on perfect
sobriety and silence. Oh, boy!\ was that you? Frances darling, pull
his hair as you go by: I heard him snap his fingers.'' Frances pulled
his hair heartily, and then went and seated herself on her husband's
knee, and there they were, like two babies, kissing and talking nonsense
by the hour---foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of. We made
ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser.
I had just fastened our pinafores together, and hung them up for a
curtain, when in comes Joseph, on an errand from the stables. He tears
down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks:

{}```T' maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath not o'ered, und t'
sound o' t' gospel still i' yer lugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame
on ye!\ sit ye down, ill childer!\ there's good books eneugh if
ye'll read 'em: sit ye down, and think o' yer sowls!''

`Saying this, he compelled us so to square our positions that we might
receive from the far-off fire a dull ray to show us the text of the
lumber he thrust upon us. I could not bear the employment. I took
my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel,
vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place.
Then there was a hubbub!

{}```Maister Hindley!''\ shouted our chaplain.\  {}``Maister,
coom hither! Miss Cathy's riven th' back off `Th' Helmet o' Salvation,'
un' Heathcliff's pawsed his fit into t' first part o' `T' Brooad Way
to Destruction!' It's fair flaysome that ye let 'em go on this gait.
Ech!\ th' owd man wad ha' laced 'em properly---but he's goan!''

`Hindley hurried up from his paradise on the hearth, and seizing one
of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the
back-kitchen; where, Joseph asseverated, {}``owd Nick would fetch
us as sure as we were living: and, so comforted, we each sought a
separate nook to await his advent. I reached this book, and a pot
of ink from a shelf, and pushed the house-door ajar to give me light,
and I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my
companion is impatient, and proposes that we should appropriate the
dairywoman's cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter.
A pleasant suggestion---and then, if the surly old man come in, he
may believe his prophecy verified---we cannot be damper, or colder,
in the rain than we are here.'

\bigskip{} I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next
sentence took up another subject: she waxed lachrymose.

`How little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!'\ she
wrote. `My head aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still
I can't give over. Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond,
and won't let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says,
he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of
the house if we break his orders. He has been blaming our father (how
dared he?) for treating H.\ too liberally; and swears he will reduce
him to his right place---'

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

I began to dream, almost before I ceased to be sensible of my locality.
I thought it was morning; and I had set out on my way home, with Joseph
for a guide. The snow lay yards deep in our road; and, as we floundered
on, my companion wearied me with constant reproaches that I had not
brought a pilgrim's staff: telling me that I could never get into
the house without one, and boastfully flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel,
which I understood to be so denominated. For a moment I considered
it absurd that I should need such a weapon to gain admittance into
my own residence. Then a new idea flashed across me. I was not going
there: we were journeying to hear the famous Jabez Branderham preach,
from the text---`Seventy Times Seven;' and either Joseph, the preacher,
or I had committed the `First of the Seventy-First,' and were to be
publicly exposed and excommunicated.

We came to the chapel. I have passed it really in my walks, twice
or thrice; it lies in a hollow, between two hills: an elevated hollow,
near a swamp, whose peaty moisture is said to answer all the purposes
of embalming on the few corpses deposited there. The roof has been
kept whole hitherto; but as the clergyman's stipend is only twenty
pounds per annum, and a house with two rooms, threatening speedily
to determine into one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor:
especially as it is currently reported that his flock would rather
let him starve than increase the living by one penny from their own
pockets. However, in my dream, Jabez had a full and attentive congregation;
and he preached---good God!\ what a sermon; divided into \textit{four}
\textit{hundred} \textit{and} \textit{ninety} parts, each fully equal
to an ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing a separate
sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot tell. He had his private
manner of interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother
should sin different sins on every occasion. They were of the most
curious character: odd transgressions that I never imagined previously.

Oh, how weary I grow. How I writhed, and yawned, and nodded, and revived!
How I pinched and pricked myself, and rubbed my eyes, and stood up,
and sat down again, and nudged Joseph to inform me if he would \textit{ever}
have done. I was condemned to hear all out: finally, he reached the
`\textit{first} \textit{of} \textit{the} \textit{seventy}-\textit{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 that
no Christian need pardon.

`Sir,' I exclaimed, `sitting here within these four walls, at one
stretch, I have endured and forgiven the four hundred and ninety heads
of your discourse. Seventy times seven times have I plucked up my
hat and been about to depart---Seventy times seven times have you
preposterously forced me to resume my seat. The four hundred and ninety-first
is too much. Fellow-martyrs, have at him! Drag him down, and crush
him to atoms, that the place which knows him may know him no more!'

`\textit{Thou} \textit{art} \textit{the} \textit{man}!'\ cried Jabez,
after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion. `Seventy times seven
times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage---seventy times seven
did I take counsel with my soul---Lo, this is human weakness: this
also may be absolved! The First of the Seventy-First is come. Brethren,
execute upon him the judgment written. Such honour have all His saints!'

With that concluding word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim's
staves, rushed round me in a body; and I, having no weapon to raise
in self-defence, commenced grappling with Joseph, my nearest and most
ferocious assailant, for his. In the confluence of the multitude,
several clubs crossed; blows, aimed at me, fell on other sconces.
Presently the whole chapel resounded with rappings and counter rappings:
every man's hand was against his neighbour; and Branderham, unwilling
to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud taps on
the boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartly that, at last,
to my unspeakable relief, they woke me. And what was it that had suggested
the tremendous tumult? What had played 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
distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard, also,
the fir bough repeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right
cause: but it annoyed me so much, that I resolved to silence it, if
possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the casement.
The hook was soldered into the staple: a circumstance observed by
me when awake, but forgotten. `I must stop it, nevertheless!'\ I
muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an
arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers
closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror
of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand
clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, `Let me in---let
me in!' `Who are you?'\ I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage
myself. `Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think
of \textit{Linton}? I had read \textit{Earnshaw} twenty times for
Linton)---`I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke,
I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window.
Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the
creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed
it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still
it wailed, `Let me in!'\ and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost
maddening me with fear. `How can I!'\ I said at length. `Let \textit{me}
go, if you want me to let you in!' The fingers relaxed, I snatched
mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against
it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed
to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I
listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on! `Begone!'\ I
shouted. `I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.'
`It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: `twenty years. I've been
a waif for twenty years!' Thereat began a feeble scratching outside,
and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump
up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of
fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty
footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with
a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the
top of the bed. I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration
from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered
to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting
an answer, `Is any one here?' I considered it best to confess my presence;
for I knew Heathcliff's accents, and feared he might search further,
if I kept quiet. With this intention, I turned and opened the panels.
I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with
a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall
behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric
shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet,
and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

`It is only your guest, sir,' I called out, desirous to spare him
the humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. `I had the misfortune
to scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I
disturbed you.'

`Oh, God confound you, Mr.\ Lockwood! I wish you were at the---'
commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found
it impossible to hold it steady. `And who showed you up into this
room?'\ he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding
his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions. `Who was it? I've a
good mind to turn them out of the house this moment?'

`It was your servant Zillah,' I replied, flinging myself on to the
floor, and rapidly resuming my garments. `I should not care if you
did, Mr.\ Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she
wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted, at my expense.
Well, it is---swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason in
shutting it up, I assure you. No one will thank you for a doze in
such a den!'

`What do you mean?'\ asked Heathcliff, `and what are you doing? Lie
down and finish out the night, since you \textit{are} here; but, for
heaven's sake!\ don't repeat that horrid noise: nothing could excuse
it, unless you were having your throat cut!'

`If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would
have strangled me!'\ I returned. `I'm not going to endure the persecutions
of your hospitable ancestors again. Was not the Reverend Jabez Branderham
akin to you on the mother's side? And that minx, Catherine Linton,
or Earnshaw, or however she was called---she must have been a changeling---wicked
little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty
years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I've no doubt!'

Scarcely were these words uttered when I recollected the association
of Heathcliff's with Catherine's name in the book, which had completely
slipped from my memory, till thus awakened. I blushed at my inconsideration:
but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, I hastened
to add---`The truth is, sir, I passed the first part of the night
\mbox{in---'} Here I stopped afresh---I was about to say `perusing
those old volumes,' then it would have revealed my knowledge of their
written, as well as their printed, contents; so, correcting myself,
I went on---`in spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge.
A monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like counting,
or---'

`What \textit{can} you mean by talking in this way to \textit{me}!'\ thundered
Heathcliff with savage vehemence. `How---how \textit{dare} you, under
my roof?---God!\ he's mad to speak so!' And he struck his forehead
with rage.

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation;
but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded
with my dreams; affirming I had never heard the appellation of `Catherine
Linton' before, but reading it often over produced an impression which
personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control.
Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke;
finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however,
by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish
an excess of violent emotion. Not liking to show him that I had heard
the conflict, I continued my toilette rather noisily, looked at my
watch, and soliloquised on the length of the night: `Not three o'clock
yet! I could have taken oath it had been six. Time stagnates here:
we must surely have retired to rest at eight!'

`Always at nine in winter, and rise at four,' said my host, suppressing
a groan: and, as I fancied, by the motion of his arm's shadow, dashing
a tear from his eyes. `Mr.\ Lockwood,' he added, `you may go into
my room: you'll only be in the way, coming down-stairs so early: and
your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil for me.'

`And for me, too,' I replied. `I'll walk in the yard till daylight,
and then I'll be off; and you need not dread a repetition of my intrusion.
I'm now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country
or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.'

`Delightful company!'\ muttered Heathcliff. `Take the candle, and
go where you please. I shall join you directly. Keep out of the yard,
though, the dogs are unchained; and the house---Juno mounts sentinel
there, and---nay, you can only ramble about the steps and passages.
But, away with you! I'll come in two minutes!'

I obeyed, so far as to quit the chamber; when, ignorant where the
narrow lobbies led, I stood still, and was witness, involuntarily,
to a piece of superstition on the part of my landlord which belied,
oddly, his apparent sense. He got on to the bed, and wrenched open
the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable
passion of tears. `Come in!\ come in!'\ he sobbed. `Cathy, do come.
Oh, do---\textit{once} more! Oh!\ my heart's darling!\ hear me \textit{this}
time, Catherine, at last!' The spectre showed a spectre's ordinary
caprice: it gave no sign of being; but the snow and wind whirled wildly
through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the light.

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this
raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew
off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having related
my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony; though \textit{why}
was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously to the lower regions,
and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of fire, raked compactly
together, enabled me to rekindle my candle. Nothing was stirring except
a brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, and saluted me with
a querulous mew.

Two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth;
on one of these I stretched myself, and Grimalkin mounted the other.
We were both of us nodding ere any one invaded our retreat, and then
it was Joseph, shuffling down a wooden ladder that vanished in the
roof, through a trap: the ascent to his garret, I suppose. He cast
a sinister look at the little flame which I had enticed to play between
the ribs, swept the cat from its elevation, and bestowing himself
in the vacancy, commenced the operation of stuffing a three-inch pipe
with tobacco. My presence in his sanctum was evidently esteemed a
piece of impudence too shameful for remark: he silently applied the
tube to his lips, folded his arms, and puffed away. I let him enjoy
the luxury unannoyed; and after sucking out his last wreath, and heaving
a profound sigh, he got up, and departed as solemnly as he came.

A more elastic footstep entered next; and now I opened my mouth for
a `good-morning,' but closed it again, the salutation unachieved;
for Hareton Earnshaw was performing his orison \textit{Sotto} \textit{Voce},
in a series of curses directed against every object he touched, while
he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig through the drifts.
He glanced over the back of the bench, dilating his nostrils, and
thought as little of exchanging civilities with me as with my companion
the cat. I guessed, by his preparations, that egress was allowed,
and, leaving my hard couch, made a movement to follow him. He noticed
this, and thrust at an inner door with the end of his spade, intimating
by an inarticulate sound that there was the place where I must go,
if I changed my locality.

It opened into the house, where the females were already astir; Zillah
urging flakes of flame up the chimney with a colossal bellows; and
Mrs.\ Heathcliff, kneeling on the hearth, reading a book by the aid
of the blaze. She held her hand interposed between the furnace-heat
and her eyes, and seemed absorbed in her occupation; desisting from
it only to chide the servant for covering her with sparks, or to push
away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose overforwardly into
her face. I was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. He stood by
the fire, his back towards me, just finishing a stormy scene with
poor Zillah; who ever and anon interrupted her labour to pluck up
the corner of her apron, and heave an indignant groan.

`And you, you worthless---' he broke out as I entered, turning to
his daughter-in-law, and employing an epithet as harmless as duck,
or sheep, but generally represented by a dash---. `There you are,
at your idle tricks again! The rest of them do earn their bread---you
live on my charity! Put your trash away, and find something to do.
You shall pay me for the plague of having you eternally in my sight---do
you hear, damnable jade?'

`I'll put my trash away, because you can make me if I refuse,' answered
the young lady, closing her book, and throwing it on a chair. `But
I'll not do anything, though you should swear your tongue out, except
what I please!'

Heathcliff lifted his hand, and the speaker sprang to a safer distance,
obviously acquainted with its weight. Having no desire to be entertained
by a cat-and-dog combat, I stepped forward briskly, as if eager to
partake the warmth of the hearth, and innocent of any knowledge of
the interrupted dispute. Each had enough decorum to suspend further
hostilities: Heathcliff placed his fists, out of temptation, in his
pockets; Mrs.\ Heathcliff curled her lip, and walked to a seat far
off, where she kept her word by playing the part of a statue during
the remainder of my stay. That was not long. I declined joining their
breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, took an opportunity of
escaping into the free air, now clear, and still, and cold as impalpable
ice.

My landlord halloed for me to stop ere I reached the bottom of the
garden, and offered to accompany me across the moor. It was well he
did, for the whole hill-back was one billowy, white ocean; the swells
and falls not indicating corresponding rises and depressions in the
ground: many pits, at least, were filled to a level; and entire ranges
of mounds, the refuse of the quarries, blotted from the chart which
my yesterday's walk left pictured in my mind. I had remarked on one
side of the road, at intervals of six or seven yards, a line of upright
stones, continued through the whole length of the barren: these were
erected and daubed with lime on purpose to serve as guides in the
dark, and also when a fall, like the present, confounded the deep
swamps on either hand with the firmer path: but, excepting a dirty
dot pointing up here and there, all traces of their existence had
vanished: and my companion found it necessary to warn me frequently
to steer to the right or left, when I imagined I was following, correctly,
the windings of the road.

We exchanged little conversation, and he halted at the entrance of
Thrushcross Park, saying, I could make no error there. Our adieux
were limited to a hasty bow, and then I pushed forward, trusting to
my own resources; for the porter's lodge is untenanted as yet. The
distance from the gate to the grange is two miles; I believe I managed
to make it four, what with losing myself among the trees, and sinking
up to the neck in snow: a predicament which only those who have experienced
it can appreciate. At any rate, whatever were my wanderings, the clock
chimed twelve as I entered the house; and that gave exactly an hour
for every mile of the usual way from Wuthering Heights.

My human fixture and her satellites rushed to welcome me; exclaiming,
tumultuously, they had completely given me up: everybody conjectured
that I perished last night; and they were wondering how they must
set about the search for my remains. I bid them be quiet, now that
they saw me returned, and, benumbed to my very heart, I dragged up-stairs;
whence, after putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty
or forty minutes, to restore the animal heat, I adjourned to my study,
feeble as a kitten: almost too much so to enjoy the cheerful fire
and smoking coffee which the servant had prepared for my refreshment.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER IV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER IV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER IV}

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

`You have lived here a considerable time,' I commenced; `did you not
say sixteen years?'

`Eighteen, sir: I came when the mistress was married, to wait on her;
after she died, the master retained me for his housekeeper.'

`Indeed.'

There ensued a pause. She was not a gossip, I feared; unless about
her own affairs, and those could hardly interest me. However, having
studied for an interval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of
meditation over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated---`Ah, times
are greatly changed since then!'

`Yes,' I remarked, `you've seen a good many alterations, I suppose?'

`I have: and troubles too,' she said.

`Oh, I'll turn the talk on my landlord's family!'\ I thought to myself.
`A good subject to start! And that pretty girl-widow, I should like
to know her history: whether she be a native of the country, or, as
is more probable, an exotic that the surly \textit{indigenae} will
not recognise for kin.' With this intention I asked Mrs.\ Dean why
Heathcliff let Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation
and residence so much inferior. `Is he not rich enough to keep the
estate in good order?'\ I inquired.

`Rich, sir!'\ she returned. `He has nobody knows what money, and
every year it increases. Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer
house than this: but he's very near---close-handed; and, if he had
meant to flit to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good
tenant he could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few
hundreds more. It is strange people should be so greedy, when they
are alone in the world!'

`He had a son, it seems?'

`Yes, he had one---he is dead.'

`And that young lady, Mrs.\ Heathcliff, is his widow?'

`Yes.'

`Where did she come from originally?'

`Why, sir, she is my late master's daughter: Catherine Linton was
her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing! I did wish Mr.\ Heathcliff
would remove here, and then we might have been together again.'

`What! Catherine Linton?'\ I exclaimed, astonished. But a minute's
reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine. Then,' I
continued, `my predecessor's name was Linton?'

`It was.'

`And who is that Earnshaw: Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr.\ Heathcliff?
Are they relations?'

`No; he is the late Mrs.\ Linton's nephew.'

`The young lady's cousin, then?'

`Yes; and her husband was her cousin also: one on the mother's, the
other on the father's side: Heathcliff married Mr.\ Linton's sister.'

`I see the house at Wuthering Heights has {}``Earnshaw'' carved
over the front door. Are they an old family?'

`Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy
is of us---I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights?
I beg pardon for asking; but I should like to hear how she is!'

`Mrs.\ Heathcliff? she looked very well, and very handsome; yet,
I think, not very happy.'

`Oh dear, I don't wonder! And how did you like the master?'

`A rough fellow, rather, Mrs.\ Dean. Is not that his character?

`Rough as a saw-edge, and hard as whinstone! The less you meddle with
him the better.'

`He must have had some ups and downs in life to make him such a churl.
Do you know anything of his history?'

`It's a cuckoo's, sir---I know all about it: except where he was born,
and who were his parents, and how he got his money at first. And Hareton
has been cast out like an unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate lad is
the only one in all this parish that does not guess how he has been
cheated.'

`Well, Mrs.\ Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something
of my neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good
enough to sit and chat an hour.'

`Oh, certainly, sir! I'll just fetch a little sewing, and then I'll
sit as long as you please. But you've caught cold: I saw you shivering,
and you must have some gruel to drive it out.'

The worthy woman bustled off, and I crouched nearer the fire; my head
felt hot, and the rest of me chill: moreover, I was excited, almost
to a pitch of foolishness, through my nerves and brain. This caused
me to feel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful (as I am still)
of serious effects from the incidents of to-day and yesterday. She
returned presently, bringing a smoking basin and a basket of work;
and, having placed the former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently
pleased to find me so companionable.

Before I came to live here, she commenced---waiting no farther invitation
to her story---I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my
mother had nursed Mr.\ Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father,
and I got used to playing with the children: I ran errands too, and
helped to make hay, and hung about the farm ready for anything that
anybody would set me to. One fine summer morning---it was the beginning
of harvest, I remember---Mr.\ Earnshaw, the old master, came down-stairs,
dressed for a journey; and, after he had told Joseph what was to be
done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me---for
I sat eating my porridge with them---and he said, speaking to his
son, `Now, my bonny man, I'm going to Liverpool to-day, what shall
I bring you? You may choose what you like: only let it be little,
for I shall walk there and back: sixty miles each way, that is a long
spell!' Hindley named a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she
was hardly six years old, but she could ride any horse in the stable,
and she chose a whip. He did not forget me; for he had a kind heart,
though he was rather severe sometimes. He promised to bring me a pocketful
of apples and pears, and then he kissed his children, said good-bye,
and set off.

It seemed a long while to us all---the three days of his absence---and
often did little Cathy ask when he would be home. Mrs.\ Earnshaw
expected him by supper-time on the third evening, and she put the
meal off hour after hour; there were no signs of his coming, however,
and at last the children got tired of running down to the gate to
look. Then it grew dark; she would have had them to bed, but they
begged sadly to be allowed to stay up; and, just about eleven o'clock,
the door-latch was raised quietly, and in stepped the master. He threw
himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand
off, for he was nearly killed---he would not have such another walk
for the three kingdoms.

`And at the end of it to be flighted to death!'\ he said, opening
his great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms. `See here, wife!
I was never so beaten with anything in my life: but you must e'en
take it as a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came
from the devil.'

We crowded round, and over Miss Cathy's head I had a peep at a dirty,
ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk: indeed,
its face looked older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its
feet, it only stared round, and repeated over and over again some
gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs.\ Earnshaw
was ready to fling it out of doors: she did fly up, asking how he
could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had
their own bairns to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it,
and whether he were mad? The master tried to explain the matter; but
he was really half dead with fatigue, and all that I could make out,
amongst her scolding, was a tale of his seeing it starving, and houseless,
and as good as dumb, in the streets of Liverpool, where he picked
it up and inquired for its owner. Not a soul knew to whom it belonged,
he said; and his money and time being both limited, he thought it
better to take it home with him at once, than run into vain expenses
there: because he was determined he would not leave it as he found
it. Well, the conclusion was, that my mistress grumbled herself calm;
and Mr.\ Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and
let it sleep with the children.

Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening
till peace was restored: then, both began searching their father's
pockets for the presents he had promised them. The former was a boy
of fourteen, but when he drew out what had been a fiddle, crushed
to morsels in the great-coat, he blubbered aloud; and Cathy, when
she learned the master had lost her whip in attending on the stranger,
showed her humour by grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing;
earning for her pains a sound blow from her father, to teach her cleaner
manners. They entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even
in their room; and I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing
of the stairs, hoping it might he gone on the morrow. By chance, or
else attracted by hearing his voice, it crept to Mr.\ Earnshaw's
door, and there he found it on quitting his chamber. Inquiries were
made as to how it got there; I was obliged to confess, and in recompense
for my cowardice and inhumanity was sent out of the house.

This was Heathcliff's first introduction to the family. On coming
back a few days afterwards (for I did not consider my banishment perpetual),
I found they had christened him `Heathcliff': it was the name of a
son who died in childhood, and it has served him ever since, both
for Christian and surname. Miss Cathy and he were now very thick;
but Hindley hated him: and to say the truth I did the same; and we
plagued and went on with him shamefully: for I wasn't reasonable enough
to feel my injustice, and the mistress never put in a word on his
behalf when she saw him wronged.

He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment:
he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear,
and my pinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes,
as if he had hurt himself by accident, and nobody was to blame. This
endurance made old Earnshaw furious, when he discovered his son persecuting
the poor fatherless child, as he called him. He took to Heathcliff
strangely, believing all he said (for that matter, he said precious
little, and generally the truth), and petting him up far above Cathy,
who was too mischievous and wayward for a favourite.

So, from the very beginning, he bred bad feeling in the house; and
at Mrs.\ Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years
after, the young master had learned to regard his father as an oppressor
rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's
affections and his privileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over
these injuries. I sympathised a while; but when the children fell
ill of the measles, and I had to tend them, and take on me the cares
of a woman at once, I changed my idea. Heathcliff was dangerously
sick; and while he lay at the worst he would have me constantly by
his pillow: I suppose he felt I did a good deal for him, and he hadn't
wit to guess that I was compelled to do it. However, I will say this,
he was the quietest child that ever nurse watched over. The difference
between him and the others forced me to be less partial. Cathy and
her brother harassed me terribly: he was as uncomplaining as a lamb;
though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble.

He got through, and the doctor affirmed it was in a great measure
owing to me, and praised me for my care. I was vain of his commendations,
and softened towards the being by whose means I earned them, and thus
Hindley lost his last ally: still I couldn't dote on Heathcliff, and
I wondered often what my master saw to admire so much in the sullen
boy; who never, to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign
of gratitude. He was not insolent to his benefactor, he was simply
insensible; though knowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart,
and conscious he had only to speak and all the house would be obliged
to bend to his wishes. As an instance, I remember Mr.\ Earnshaw once
bought a couple of colts at the parish fair, and gave the lads each
one. Heathcliff took the handsomest, but it soon fell lame, and when
he discovered it, he said to Hindley---

`You must exchange horses with me: I don't like mine; and if you won't
I shall tell your father of the three thrashings you've given me this
week, and show him my arm, which is black to the shoulder.' Hindley
put out his tongue, and cuffed him over the ears. `You'd better do
it at once,' he persisted, escaping to the porch (they were in the
stable): `you will have to: and if I speak of these blows, you'll
get them again with interest.' `Off, dog!'\ cried Hindley, threatening
him with an iron weight used for weighing potatoes and hay. `Throw
it,' he replied, standing still, `and then I'll tell how you boasted
that you would turn me out of doors as soon as he died, and see whether
he will not turn you out directly.' Hindley threw it, hitting him
on the breast, and down he fell, but staggered up immediately, breathless
and white; and, had not I prevented it, he would have gone just so
to the master, and got full revenge by letting his condition plead
for him, intimating who had caused it. `Take my colt, Gipsy, then!'\ said
young Earnshaw. `And I pray that he may break your neck: take him,
and he damned, you beggarly interloper!\ and wheedle my father out
of all he has: only afterwards show him what you are, imp of Satan.---And
take that, I hope he'll kick out your brains!'

Heathcliff had gone to loose the beast, and shift it to his own stall;
he was passing behind it, when Hindley finished his speech by knocking
him under its feet, and without stopping to examine whether his hopes
were fulfilled, ran away as fast as he could. I was surprised to witness
how coolly the child gathered himself up, and went on with his intention;
exchanging saddles and all, and then sitting down on a bundle of hay
to overcome the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, before he
entered the house. I persuaded him easily to let me lay the blame
of his bruises on the horse: he minded little what tale was told since
he had what he wanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of such stirs
as these, that I really thought him not vindictive: I was deceived
completely, as you will hear.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER V}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER V}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER V}

In the course of time Mr.\ Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active
and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly; and when he was confined
to the chimney-corner he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed
him; and suspected slights of his authority nearly threw him into
fits. This was especially to be remarked if any one attempted to impose
upon, or domineer over, his favourite: he was painfully jealous lest
a word should be spoken amiss to him; seeming to have got into his
head the notion that, because he liked Heathcliff, all hated, and
longed to do him an ill-turn. It was a disadvantage to the lad; for
the kinder among us did not wish to fret the master, so we humoured
his partiality; and that humouring was rich nourishment to the child's
pride and black tempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice,
or thrice, Hindley's manifestation of scorn, while his father was
near, roused the old man to a fury: he seized his stick to strike
him, and shook with rage that he could not do it.

At last, our curate (we had a curate then who made the living answer
by teaching the little Lintons and Earnshaws, and farming his bit
of land himself) advised that the young man should be sent to college;
and Mr.\ Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said---`Hindley
was nought, and would never thrive as where he wandered.'

I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt me to think the
master should be made uncomfortable by his own good deed. I fancied
the discontent of age and disease arose from his family disagreements;
as he would have it that it did: really, you know, sir, it was in
his sinking frame. We might have got on tolerably, notwithstanding,
but for two people---Miss Cathy, and Joseph, the servant: you saw
him, I daresay, up yonder. He was, and is yet most likely, the wearisomest
self-righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to rake the promises
to himself and fling the curses to his neighbours. By his knack of
sermonising and pious discoursing, he contrived to make a great impression
on Mr.\ Earnshaw; and the more feeble the master became, the more
influence he gained. He was relentless in worrying him about his soul's
concerns, and about ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged him
to regard Hindley as a reprobate; and, night after night, he regularly
grumbled out a long string of tales against Heathcliff and Catherine:
always minding to flatter Earnshaw's weakness by heaping the heaviest
blame on the latter.

Certainly she had ways with her such as I never saw a child take up
before; and she put all of us past our patience fifty times and oftener
in a day: from the hour she came down-stairs till the hour she went
to bed, we had not a minute's security that she wouldn't be in mischief.
Her spirits were always at high-water mark, her tongue always going---singing,
laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do the same. A wild,
wicked slip she was---but she had the bonniest eye, the sweetest smile,
and lightest foot in the parish: and, after all, I believe she meant
no harm; for when once she made you cry in good earnest, it seldom
happened that she would not keep you company, and oblige you to be
quiet that you might comfort her. She was much too fond of Heathcliff.
The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate
from him: yet she got chided more than any of us on his account. In
play, she liked exceedingly to act the little mistress; using her
hands freely, and commanding her companions: she did so to me, but
I would not bear slapping and ordering; and so I let her know.

Now, Mr.\ Earnshaw did not understand jokes from his children: he
had always been strict and grave with them; and Catherine, on her
part, had no idea why her father should be crosser and less patient
in his ailing condition than he was in his prime. His peevish reproofs
wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him: she was never so
happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us
with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words; turning Joseph's religious
curses into ridicule, baiting me, and doing just what her father hated
most---showing how her pretended insolence, which he thought real,
had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness: how the boy would
do \textit{her} bidding in anything, and \textit{his} only when it
suited his own inclination. After behaving as badly as possible all
day, she sometimes came fondling to make it up at night. `Nay, Cathy,'
the old man would say, `I cannot love thee, thou'rt worse than thy
brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God's pardon. I doubt
thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!' That made her
cry, at first; and then being repulsed continually hardened her, and
she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and
beg to be forgiven.

But the hour came, at last, that ended Mr.\ Earnshaw's troubles on
earth. He died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by
the fire-side. A high wind blustered round the house, and roared in
the chimney: it sounded wild and stormy, yet it was not cold, and
we were all together---I, a little removed from the hearth, busy at
my knitting, and Joseph reading his Bible near the table (for the
servants generally sat in the house then, after their work was done).
Miss Cathy had been sick, and that made her still; she leant against
her father's knee, and Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his
head in her lap. I remember the master, before he fell into a doze,
stroking her bonny hair---it pleased him rarely to see her gentle---and
saying, `Why canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?' And she
turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered, `Why cannot
you always be a good man, father?' But as soon as she saw him vexed
again, she kissed his hand, and said she would sing him to sleep.
She began singing very low, till his fingers dropped from hers, and
his head sank on his breast. Then I told her to hush, and not stir,
for fear she should wake him. We all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour,
and should have done so longer, only Joseph, having finished his chapter,
got up and said that he must rouse the master for prayers and bed.
He stepped forward, and called him by name, and touched his shoulder;
but he would not move: so he took the candle and looked at him. I
thought there was something wrong as he set down the light; and seizing
the children each by an arm, whispered them to `frame up-stairs, and
make little din---they might pray alone that evening---he had summut
to do.'

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

I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what
we could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven.
He told me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor
and the parson. I could not guess the use that either would be of,
then. However, I went, through wind and rain, and brought one, the
doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in the morning.
Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children's room: their
door was ajar, I saw they had never lain down, though it was past
midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them.
The little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than
I could have hit on: no parson in the world ever pictured heaven so
beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk; and, while I sobbed
and listened, I could not help wishing we were all there safe together.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER VI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER VI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER VI}

Mr.\ Hindley came home to the funeral; and---a thing that amazed
us, and set the neighbours gossiping right and left---he brought a
wife with him. What she was, and where she was born, he never informed
us: probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her, or
he would scarcely have kept the union from his father.

She was not one that would have disturbed the house much on her own
account. Every object she saw, the moment she crossed the threshold,
appeared to delight her; and every circumstance that took place about
her: except the preparing for the burial, and the presence of the
mourners. I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour while that
went on: she ran into her chamber, and made me come with her, though
I should have been dressing the children: and there she sat shivering
and clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly---`Are they gone yet?'
Then she began describing with hysterical emotion the effect it produced
on her to see black; and started, and trembled, and, at last, fell
a-weeping---and when I asked what was the matter, answered, she didn't
know; but she felt so afraid of dying! I imagined her as little likely
to die as myself. She was rather thin, but young, and fresh-complexioned,
and her eyes sparkled as bright as diamonds. I did remark, to be sure,
that mounting the stairs made her breathe very quick; that the least
sudden noise set her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomely
sometimes: but I knew nothing of what these symptoms portended, and
had no impulse to sympathise with her. We don't in general take to
foreigners here, Mr.\ Lockwood, unless they take to us first.

Young Earnshaw was altered considerably in the three years of his
absence. He had grown sparer, and lost his colour, and spoke and dressed
quite differently; and, on the very day of his return, he told Joseph
and me we must thenceforth quarter ourselves in the back-kitchen,
and leave the house for him. Indeed, he would have carpeted and papered
a small spare room for a parlour; but his wife expressed such pleasure
at the white floor and huge glowing fireplace, at the pewter dishes
and delf-case, and dog-kennel, and the wide space there was to move
about in where they usually sat, that he thought it unnecessary to
her comfort, and so dropped the intention.

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

Heathcliff bore his degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy
taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields.
They both promised fair to grow up as rude as savages; the young master
being entirely negligent how they behaved, and what they did, so they
kept clear of him. He would not even have seen after their going to
church on Sundays, only Joseph and the curate reprimanded his carelessness
when they absented themselves; and that reminded him to order Heathcliff
a flogging, and Catherine a fast from dinner or supper. But it was
one of their chief amusements to run away to the moors in the morning
and remain there all day, and the after punishment grew a mere thing
to laugh at. The curate might set as many chapters as he pleased for
Catherine to get by heart, and Joseph might thrash Heathcliff till
his arm ached; they forgot everything the minute they were together
again: at least the minute they had contrived some naughty plan of
revenge; and many a time I've cried to myself to watch them growing
more reckless daily, and I not daring to speak a syllable, for fear
of losing the small power I still retained over the unfriended creatures.
One Sunday evening, it chanced that they were banished from the sitting-room,
for making a noise, or a light offence of the kind; and when I went
to call them to supper, I could discover them nowhere. We searched
the house, above and below, and the yard and stables; they were invisible:
and, at last, Hindley in a passion told us to bolt the doors, and
swore nobody should let them in that night. The household went to
bed; and I, too, anxious to lie down, opened my lattice and put my
head out to hearken, though it rained: determined to admit them in
spite of the prohibition, should they return. In a while, I distinguished
steps coming up the road, and the light of a lantern glimmered through
the gate. I threw a shawl over my head and ran to prevent them from
waking Mr.\ Earnshaw by knocking. There was Heathcliff, by himself:
it gave me a start to see him alone.

`Where is Miss Catherine?'\ I cried hurriedly. `No accident, I hope?'
`At Thrushcross Grange,' he answered; `and I would have been there
too, but they had not the manners to ask me to stay.' `Well, you will
catch it!'\ I said: `you'll never be content till you're sent about
your business. What in the world led you wandering to Thrushcross
Grange?' `Let me get off my wet clothes, and I'll tell you all about
it, Nelly,' he replied. I bid him beware of rousing the master, and
while he undressed and I waited to put out the candle, he continued---`Cathy
and I escaped from the wash-house to have a ramble at liberty, and
getting a glimpse of the Grange lights, we thought we would just go
and see whether the Lintons passed their Sunday evenings standing
shivering in corners, while their father and mother sat eating and
drinking, and singing and laughing, and burning their eyes out before
the fire. Do you think they do? Or reading sermons, and being catechised
by their manservant, and set to learn a column of Scripture names,
if they don't answer properly?' `Probably not,' I responded. `They
are good children, no doubt, and don't deserve the treatment you receive,
for your bad conduct.' `Don't cant, Nelly,' he said: `nonsense! We
ran from the top of the Heights to the park, without stopping---Catherine
completely beaten in the race, because she was barefoot. You'll have
to seek for her shoes in the bog to-morrow. We crept through a broken
hedge, groped our way up the path, and planted ourselves on a flower-plot
under the drawing-room window. The light came from thence; they had
not put up the shutters, and the curtains were only half closed. Both
of us were able to look in by standing on the basement, and clinging
to the ledge, and we saw---ah!\ it was beautiful---a splendid place
carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and
a pure white ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging
in silver chains from the centre, and shimmering with little soft
tapers. Old Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Linton were not there; Edgar and his
sisters had it entirely to themselves. Shouldn't they have been happy?
We should have thought ourselves in heaven! And now, guess what your
good children were doing? Isabella---I believe she is eleven, a year
younger than Cathy---lay screaming at the farther end of the room,
shrieking as if witches were running red-hot needles into her. Edgar
stood on the hearth weeping silently, and in the middle of the table
sat a little dog, shaking its paw and yelping; which, from their mutual
accusations, we understood they had nearly pulled in two between them.
The idiots! That was their pleasure!\ to quarrel who should hold
a heap of warm hair, and each begin to cry because both, after struggling
to get it, refused to take it. We laughed outright at the petted things;
we did despise them! When would you catch me wishing to have what
Catherine wanted? or find us by ourselves, seeking entertainment in
yelling, and sobbing, and rolling on the ground, divided by the whole
room? I'd not exchange, for a thousand lives, my condition here, for
Edgar Linton's at Thrushcross Grange---not if I might have the privilege
of flinging Joseph off the highest gable, and painting the house-front
with Hindley's blood!'

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

`I told you we laughed,' he answered. `The Lintons heard us, and with
one accord they shot like arrows to the door; there was silence, and
then a cry, {}``Oh, mamma, mamma! Oh, papa! Oh, mamma, come here.
Oh, papa, oh!'' They really did howl out something in that way. We
made frightful noises to terrify them still more, and then we dropped
off the ledge, because somebody was drawing the bars, and we felt
we had better flee. I had Cathy by the hand, and was urging her on,
when all at once she fell down. {}``Run, Heathcliff, run!'' she
whispered. {}``They have let the bull-dog loose, and he holds me!''
The devil had seized her ankle, Nelly: I heard his abominable snorting.
She did not yell out---no!\ she would have scorned to do it, if she
had been spitted on the horns of a mad cow. I did, though: I vociferated
curses enough to annihilate any fiend in Christendom; and I got a
stone and thrust it between his jaws, and tried with all my might
to cram it down his throat. A beast of a servant came up with a lantern,
at last, shouting---{}``Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast!'' He changed
his note, however, when he saw Skulker's game. The dog was throttled
off; his huge, purple tongue hanging half a foot out of his mouth,
and his pendent lips streaming with bloody slaver. The man took Cathy
up; she was sick: not from fear, I'm certain, but from pain. He carried
her in; I followed, grumbling execrations and vengeance. {}``What
prey, Robert?'' hallooed Linton from the entrance. {}``Skulker has
caught a little girl, sir,'' he replied; {}``and there's a lad here,''
he added, making a clutch at me, {}``who looks an out-and-outer!
Very like the robbers were for putting them through the window to
open the doors to the gang after all were asleep, that they might
murder us at their ease. Hold your tongue, you foul-mouthed thief,
you!\ you shall go to the gallows for this. Mr.\ Linton, sir, don't
lay by your gun.'' {}``No, no, Robert,'' said the old fool. {}``The
rascals knew that yesterday was my rent-day: they thought to have
me cleverly. Come in; I'll furnish them a reception. There, John,
fasten the chain. Give Skulker some water, Jenny. To beard a magistrate
in his stronghold, and on the Sabbath, too! Where will their insolence
stop? Oh, my dear Mary, look here! Don't be afraid, it is but a boy---yet
the villain scowls so plainly in his face; would it not be a kindness
to the country to hang him at once, before he shows his nature in
acts as well as features?'' He pulled me under the chandelier, and
Mrs.\ Linton placed her spectacles on her nose and raised her hands
in horror. The cowardly children crept nearer also, Isabella lisping---{}``Frightful
thing! Put him in the cellar, papa. He's exactly like the son of the
fortune-teller that stole my tame pheasant. Isn't he, Edgar?''

`While they examined me, Cathy came round; she heard the last speech,
and laughed. Edgar Linton, after an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient
wit to recognise her. They see us at church, you know, though we seldom
meet them elsewhere. {}``That's Miss Earnshaw?'' he whispered to
his mother, {}``and look how Skulker has bitten her---how her foot
bleeds!''

`{}{}``Miss Earnshaw? Nonsense!'' cried the dame; {}``Miss Earnshaw
scouring the country with a gipsy! And yet, my dear, the child is
in mourning---surely it is---and she may be lamed for life!''

`{}{}``What culpable carelessness in her brother!'' exclaimed Mr.\ Linton,
turning from me to Catherine. {}``I've understood from Shielders\char`\"{}'
(that was the curate, sir) `{}{}``that he lets her grow up in absolute
heathenism. But who is this? Where did she pick up this companion?
Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition my late neighbour made,
in his journey to Liverpool---a little Lascar, or an American or Spanish
castaway.''

`{}{}``A wicked boy, at all events,'' remarked the old lady, {}``and
quite unfit for a decent house! Did you notice his language, Linton?
I'm shocked that my children should have heard it.''

`I recommenced cursing---don't be angry, Nelly---and so Robert was
ordered to take me off. I refused to go without Cathy; he dragged
me into the garden, pushed the lantern into my hand, assured me that
Mr.\ Earnshaw should be informed of my behaviour, and, bidding me
march directly, secured the door again. The curtains were still looped
up at one corner, and I resumed my station as spy; because, if Catherine
had wished to return, I intended shattering their great glass panes
to a million of fragments, unless they let her out. She sat on the
sofa quietly. Mrs.\ Linton took off the grey cloak of the dairy-maid
which we had borrowed for our excursion, shaking her head and expostulating
with her, I suppose: she was a young lady, and they made a distinction
between her treatment and mine. Then the woman-servant brought a basin
of warm water, and washed her feet; and Mr.\ Linton mixed a tumbler
of negus, and Isabella emptied a plateful of cakes into her lap, and
Edgar stood gaping at a distance. Afterwards, they dried and combed
her beautiful hair, and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and
wheeled her to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be,
dividing her food between the little dog and Skulker, whose nose she
pinched as he ate; and kindling a spark of spirit in the vacant blue
eyes of the Lintons---a dim reflection from her own enchanting face.
I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she is so immeasurably
superior to them---to everybody on earth, is she not, Nelly?'

`There will more come of this business than you reckon on,' I answered,
covering him up and extinguishing the light. `You are incurable, Heathcliff;
and Mr.\ Hindley will have to proceed to extremities, see if he won't.'
My words came truer than I desired. The luckless adventure made Earnshaw
furious. And then Mr.\ Linton, to mend matters, paid us a visit himself
on the morrow, and read the young master such a lecture on the road
he guided his family, that he was stirred to look about him, in earnest.
Heathcliff received no flogging, but he was told that the first word
he spoke to Miss Catherine should ensure a dismissal; and Mrs.\ Earnshaw
undertook to keep her sister-in-law in due restraint when she returned
home; employing art, not force: with force she would have found it
impossible.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER VII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER VII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER VII}

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks: till Christmas. By
that time her ankle was thoroughly cured, and her manners much improved.
The mistress visited her often in the interval, and commenced her
plan of reform by trying to raise her self-respect with fine clothes
and flattery, which she took readily; so that, instead of a wild,
hatless little savage jumping into the house, and rushing to squeeze
us all breathless, there 'lighted from a handsome black pony a very
dignified person, with brown ringlets falling from the cover of a
feathered beaver, and a long cloth habit, which she was obliged to
hold up with both hands that she might sail in. Hindley lifted her
from her horse, exclaiming delightedly, `Why, Cathy, you are quite
a beauty! I should scarcely have known you: you look like a lady now.
Isabella Linton is not to be compared with her, is she, Frances?'
`Isabella has not her natural advantages,' replied his wife: `but
she must mind and not grow wild again here. Ellen, help Miss Catherine
off with her things---Stay, dear, you will disarrange your curls---let
me untie your hat.'

I removed the habit, and there shone forth beneath a grand plaid silk
frock, white trousers, and burnished shoes; and, while her eyes sparkled
joyfully when the dogs came bounding up to welcome her, she dared
hardly touch them lest they should fawn upon her splendid garments.
She kissed me gently: I was all flour making the Christmas cake, and
it would not have done to give me a hug; and then she looked round
for Heathcliff. Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Earnshaw watched anxiously their
meeting; thinking it would enable them to judge, in some measure,
what grounds they had for hoping to succeed in separating the two
friends.

Heathcliff was hard to discover, at first. If he were careless, and
uncared for, before Catherine's absence, he had been ten times more
so since. Nobody but I even did him the kindness to call him a dirty
boy, and bid him wash himself, once a week; and children of his age
seldom have a natural pleasure in soap and water. Therefore, not to
mention his clothes, which had seen three months' service in mire
and dust, and his thick uncombed hair, the surface of his face and
hands was dismally beclouded. He might well skulk behind the settle,
on beholding such a bright, graceful damsel enter the house, instead
of a rough-headed counterpart of himself, as he expected. `Is Heathcliff
not here?'\ she demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying
fingers wonderfully whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors.

`Heathcliff, you may come forward,' cried Mr.\ Hindley, enjoying
his discomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard
he would be compelled to present himself. `You may come and wish Miss
Catherine welcome, like the other servants.'

Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to
embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within
the second, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh,
exclaiming, `Why, how very black and cross you look!\ and how---how
funny and grim! But that's because I'm used to Edgar and Isabella
Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?'

She had some reason to put the question, for shame and pride threw
double gloom over his countenance, and kept him immovable.

`Shake hands, Heathcliff,' said Mr.\ Earnshaw, condescendingly; `once
in a way, that is permitted.'

`I shall not,' replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; `I shall
not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it!' And he would have
broken from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him again.

`I did not mean to laugh at you,' she said; `I could not hinder myself:
Heathcliff, shake hands at least! What are you sulky for? It was only
that you looked odd. If you wash your face and brush your hair, it
will be all right: but you are so dirty!'

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

`You needn't have touched me!'\ he answered, following her eye and
snatching away his hand. `I shall be as dirty as I please: and I like
to be dirty, and I will be dirty.'

With that he dashed headforemost out of the room, amid the merriment
of the master and mistress, and to the serious disturbance of Catherine;
who could not comprehend how her remarks should have produced such
an exhibition of bad temper.

After playing lady's-maid to the new-comer, and putting my cakes in
the oven, and making the house and kitchen cheerful with great fires,
befitting Christmas-eve, I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by
singing carols, all alone; regardless of Joseph's affirmations that
he considered the merry tunes I chose as next door to songs. He had
retired to private prayer in his chamber, and Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Earnshaw
were engaging Missy's attention by sundry gay trifles bought for her
to present to the little Lintons, as an acknowledgment of their kindness.
They had invited them to spend the morrow at Wuthering Heights, and
the invitation had been accepted, on one condition: Mrs.\ Linton
begged that her darlings might be kept carefully apart from that `naughty
swearing boy.'

Under these circumstances I remained solitary. I smelt the rich scent
of the heating spices; and admired the shining kitchen utensils, the
polished clock, decked in holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray
ready to be filled with mulled ale for supper; and above all, the
speckless purity of my particular care---the scoured and well-swept
floor. I gave due inward applause to every object, and then I remembered
how old Earnshaw used to come in when all was tidied, and call me
a cant lass, and slip a shilling into my hand as a Christmas-box;
and from that I went on to think of his fondness for Heathcliff, and
his dread lest he should suffer neglect after death had removed him:
and that naturally led me to consider the poor lad's situation now,
and from singing I changed my mind to crying. It struck me soon, however,
there would be more sense in endeavouring to repair some of his wrongs
than shedding tears over them: I got up and walked into the court
to seek him. He was not far; I found him smoothing the glossy coat
of the new pony in the stable, and feeding the other beasts, according
to custom.

`Make haste, Heathcliff!'\ I said, `the kitchen is so comfortable;
and Joseph is up-stairs: make haste, and let me dress you smart before
Miss Cathy comes out, and then you can sit together, with the whole
hearth to yourselves, and have a long chatter till bedtime.'

He proceeded with his task, and never turned his head towards me.

`Come---are you coming?'\ I continued. `There's a little cake for
each of you, nearly enough; and you'll need half-an-hour's donning.'

I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him. Catherine supped
with her brother and sister-in-law: Joseph and I joined at an unsociable
meal, seasoned with reproofs on one side and sauciness on the other.
His cake and cheese remained on the table all night for the fairies.
He managed to continue work till nine o'clock, and then marched dumb
and dour to his chamber. Cathy sat up late, having a world of things
to order for the reception of her new friends: she came into the kitchen
once to speak to her old one; but he was gone, and she only stayed
to ask what was the matter with him, and then went back. In the morning
he rose early; and, as it was a holiday, carried his ill-humour on
to the moors; not re-appearing till the family were departed for church.
Fasting and reflection seemed to have brought him to a better spirit.
He hung about me for a while, and having screwed up his courage, exclaimed
abruptly---`Nelly, make me decent, I'm going to be good.'

`High time, Heathcliff,' I said; `you \textit{have} grieved Catherine:
she's sorry she ever came home, I daresay! It looks as if you envied
her, because she is more thought of than you.'

The notion of \textit{envying} Catherine was incomprehensible to him,
but the notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough.

`Did she say she was grieved?'\ he inquired, looking very serious.

`She cried when I told her you were off again this morning.'

`Well, I cried last night,' he returned, `and I had more reason to
cry than she.'

`Yes: you had the reason of going to bed with a proud heart and an
empty stomach,' said I. `Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
But, if you be ashamed of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind,
when she comes in. You must go up and offer to kiss her, and say---you
know best what to say; only do it heartily, and not as if you thought
her converted into a stranger by her grand dress. And now, though
I have dinner to get ready, I'll steal time to arrange you so that
Edgar Linton shall look quite a doll beside you: and that he does.
You are younger, and yet, I'll be bound, you are taller and twice
as broad across the shoulders; you could knock him down in a twinkling;
don't you feel that you could?'

Heathcliff's face brightened a moment; then it was overcast afresh,
and he sighed.

`But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn't make
him less handsome or me more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair
skin, and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being
as rich as he will be!'

`And cried for mamma at every turn,' I added, `and trembled if a country
lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower
of rain. Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to the
glass, and I'll let you see what you should wish. Do you mark those
two lines between your eyes; and those thick brows, that, instead
of rising arched, sink in the middle; and that couple of black fiends,
so deeply buried, who never open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting
under them, like devil's spies? Wish and learn to smooth away the
surly wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends
to confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and
always seeing friends where they are not sure of foes. Don't get the
expression of a vicious cur that appears to know the kicks it gets
are its desert, and yet hates all the world, as well as the kicker,
for what it suffers.'

`In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes and
even forehead,' he replied. `I do---and that won't help me to them.'

`A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,' I continued,
`if you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest
into something worse than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and
combing, and sulking---tell me whether you don't think yourself rather
handsome? I'll tell you, I do. You're fit for a prince in disguise.
Who knows but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an
Indian queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week's income,
Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were kidnapped
by wicked sailors and brought to England. Were I in your place, I
would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was
should give me courage and dignity to support the oppressions of a
little farmer!'

So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his frown and began
to look quite pleasant, when all at once our conversation was interrupted
by a rumbling sound moving up the road and entering the court. He
ran to the window and I to the door, just in time to behold the two
Lintons descend from the family carriage, smothered in cloaks and
furs, and the Earnshaws dismount from their horses: they often rode
to church in winter. Catherine took a hand of each of the children,
and brought them into the house and set them before the fire, which
quickly put colour into their white faces.

I urged my companion to hasten now and show his amiable humour, and
he willingly obeyed; but ill luck would have it that, as he opened
the door leading from the kitchen on one side, Hindley opened it on
the other. They met, and the master, irritated at seeing him clean
and cheerful, or, perhaps, eager to keep his promise to Mrs.\ Linton,
shoved him back with a sudden thrust, and angrily bade Joseph `keep
the fellow out of the room---send him into the garret till dinner
is over. He'll be cramming his fingers in the tarts and stealing the
fruit, if left alone with them a minute.'

`Nay, sir,' I could not avoid answering, `he'll touch nothing, not
he: and I suppose he must have his share of the dainties as well as
we.'

`He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs till
dark,' cried Hindley. `Begone, you vagabond! What!\ you are attempting
the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks---see
if I won't pull them a bit longer!'

`They are long enough already,' observed Master Linton, peeping from
the doorway; `I wonder they don't make his head ache. It's like a
colt's mane over his eyes!'

He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but Heathcliff's
violent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence
from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He seized
a tureen of hot apple sauce (the first thing that came under his gripe)
and dashed it full against the speaker's face and neck; who instantly
commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to
the place. Mr.\ Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly and conveyed
him to his chamber; where, doubtless, he administered a rough remedy
to cool the fit of passion, for he appeared red and breathless. I
got the dishcloth, and rather spitefully scrubbed Edgar's nose and
mouth, affirming it served him right for meddling. His sister began
weeping to go home, and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.

`You should not have spoken to him!'\ she expostulated with Master
Linton. `He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit;
and he'll be flogged: I hate him to be flogged! I can't eat my dinner.
Why did you speak to him, Edgar?'

`I didn't,' sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing
the remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief.
`I promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't.'

`Well, don't cry,' replied Catherine, contemptuously; `you're not
killed. Don't make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet!
Hush, Isabella! Has anybody hurt you?'

`There, there, children---to your seats!'\ cried Hindley, bustling
in. `That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master Edgar,
take the law into your own fists---it will give you an appetite!'

The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant
feast. They were hungry after their ride, and easily consoled, since
no real harm had befallen them. Mr.\ Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls,
and the mistress made them merry with lively talk. I waited behind
her chair, and was pained to behold Catherine, with dry eyes and an
indifferent air, commence cutting up the wing of a goose before her.
`An unfeeling child,' I thought to myself; `how lightly she dismisses
her old playmate's troubles. I could not have imagined her to be so
selfish.' She lifted a mouthful to her lips: then she set it down
again: her cheeks flushed, and the tears gushed over them. She slipped
her fork to the floor, and hastily dived under the cloth to conceal
her emotion. I did not call her unfeeling long; for I perceived she
was in purgatory throughout the day, and wearying to find an opportunity
of getting by herself, or paying a visit to Heathcliff, who had been
locked up by the master: as I discovered, on endeavouring to introduce
to him a private mess of victuals.

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

Catherine loved it too: but she said it sounded sweetest at the top
of the steps, and she went up in the dark: I followed. They shut the
house door below, never noting our absence, it was so full of people.
She made no stay at the stairs'-head, but mounted farther, to the
garret where Heathcliff was confined, and called him. He stubbornly
declined answering for a while: she persevered, and finally persuaded
him to hold communion with her through the boards. I let the poor
things converse unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going to
cease, and the singers to get some refreshment: then I clambered up
the ladder to warn her. Instead of finding her outside, I heard her
voice within. The little monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret,
along the roof, into the skylight of the other, and it was with the
utmost difficulty I could coax her out again. When she did come, Heathcliff
came with her, and she insisted that I should take him into the kitchen,
as my fellow-servant had gone to a neighbour's, to be removed from
the sound of our `devil's psalmody,' as it pleased him to call it.
I told them I intended by no means to encourage their tricks: but
as the prisoner had never broken his fast since yesterday's dinner,
I would wink at his cheating Mr.\ Hindley that once. He went down:
I set him a stool by the fire, and offered him a quantity of good
things: but he was sick and could eat little, and my attempts to entertain
him were thrown away. He leant his two elbows on his knees, and his
chin on his hands and remained rapt in dumb meditation. On my inquiring
the subject of his thoughts, he answered gravely---`I'm trying to
settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I wait,
if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do!'

`For shame, Heathcliff!'\ said I. `It is for God to punish wicked
people; we should learn to forgive.'

`No, God won't have the satisfaction that I shall,' he returned. `I
only wish I knew the best way! Let me alone, and I'll plan it out:
while I'm thinking of that I don't feel pain.'

`But, Mr.\ Lockwood, I forget these tales cannot divert you. I'm
annoyed how I should dream of chattering on at such a rate; and your
gruel cold, and you nodding for bed! I could have told Heathcliff's
history, all that you need hear, in half a dozen words.'

Thus interrupting herself, the housekeeper rose, and proceeded to
lay aside her sewing; but I felt incapable of moving from the hearth,
and I was very far from nodding. `Sit still, Mrs.\ Dean,' I cried;
`do sit still another half-hour. You've done just right to tell the
story leisurely. That is the method I like; and you must finish it
in the same style. I am interested in every character you have mentioned,
more or less.'

`The clock is on the stroke of eleven, sir.'

`No matter---I'm not accustomed to go to bed in the long hours. One
or two is early enough for a person who lies till ten.'

`You shouldn't lie till ten. There's the very prime of the morning
gone long before that time. A person who has not done one-half his
day's work by ten o'clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half
undone.'

`Nevertheless, Mrs.\ Dean, resume your chair; because to-morrow I
intend lengthening the night till afternoon. I prognosticate for myself
an obstinate cold, at least.'

`I hope not, sir. Well, you must allow me to leap over some three
years; during that space Mrs.\ Earnshaw---'

`No, no, I'll allow nothing of the sort! Are you acquainted with the
mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking
its kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so
intently that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously out
of temper?'

`A terribly lazy mood, I should say.'

`On the contrary, a tiresomely active one. It is mine, at present;
and, therefore, continue minutely. I perceive that people in these
regions acquire over people in towns the value that a spider in a
dungeon does over a spider in a cottage, to their various occupants;
and yet the deepened attraction is not entirely owing to the situation
of the looker-on. They \textit{do} live more in earnest, more in themselves,
and less in surface, change, and frivolous external things. I could
fancy a love for life here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever
in any love of a year's standing. One state resembles setting a hungry
man down to a single dish, on which he may concentrate his entire
appetite and do it justice; the other, introducing him to a table
laid out by French cooks: he can perhaps extract as much enjoyment
from the whole; but each part is a mere atom in his regard and remembrance.'

`Oh!\ here we are the same as anywhere else, when you get to know
us,' observed Mrs.\ Dean, somewhat puzzled at my speech.

`Excuse me,' I responded; `you, my good friend, are a striking evidence
against that assertion. Excepting a few provincialisms of slight consequence,
you have no marks of the manners which I am habituated to consider
as peculiar to your class. I am sure you have thought a great deal
more than the generality of servants think. You have been compelled
to cultivate your reflective faculties for want of occasions for frittering
your life away in silly trifles.'

Mrs.\ Dean laughed.

`I certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body,' she
said; `not exactly from living among the hills and seeing one set
of faces, and one series of actions, from year's end to year's end;
but I have undergone sharp discipline, which has taught me wisdom;
and then, I have read more than you would fancy, Mr.\ Lockwood. You
could not open a book in this library that I have not looked into,
and got something out of also: unless it be that range of Greek and
Latin, and that of French; and those I know one from another: it is
as much as you can expect of a poor man's daughter. However, if I
am to follow my story in true gossip's fashion, I had better go on;
and instead of leaping three years, I will be content to pass to the
next summer---the summer of 1778, that is nearly twenty-three years
ago.'


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER VIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER VIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER VIII}

On the morning of a fine June day my first bonny little nursling,
and the last of the ancient Earnshaw stock, was born. We were busy
with the hay in a far-away field, when the girl that usually brought
our breakfasts came running an hour too soon across the meadow and
up the lane, calling me as she ran.

`Oh, such a grand bairn!'\ she panted out. `The finest lad that ever
breathed! But the doctor says missis must go: he says she's been in
a consumption these many months. I heard him tell Mr.\ Hindley: and
now she has nothing to keep her, and she'll be dead before winter.
You must come home directly. You're to nurse it, Nelly: to feed it
with sugar and milk, and take care of it day and night. I wish I were
you, because it will be all yours when there is no missis!'

`But is she very ill?'\ I asked, flinging down my rake and tying
my bonnet.

`I guess she is; yet she looks bravely,' replied the girl, `and she
talks as if she thought of living to see it grow a man. She's out
of her head for joy, it's such a beauty! If I were her I'm certain
I should not die: I should get better at the bare sight of it, in
spite of Kenneth. I was fairly mad at him. Dame Archer brought the
cherub down to master, in the house, and his face just began to light
up, when the old croaker steps forward, and says he---{}``Earnshaw,
it's a blessing your wife has been spared to leave you this son. When
she came, I felt convinced we shouldn't keep her long; and now, I
must tell you, the winter will probably finish her. Don't take on,
and fret about it too much: it can't be helped. And besides, you should
have known better than to choose such a rush of a lass!\char`\"{}'

`And what did the master answer?'\ I inquired.

`I think he swore: but I didn't mind him, I was straining to see the
bairn,' and she began again to describe it rapturously. I, as zealous
as herself, hurried eagerly home to admire, on my part; though I was
very sad for Hindley's sake. He had room in his heart only for two
idols---his wife and himself: he doted on both, and adored one, and
I couldn't conceive how he would bear the loss.

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

`Nearly ready to run about, Nell!'\ he replied, putting on a cheerful
smile.

`And the mistress?'\ I ventured to inquire; `the doctor says she's---'

`Damn the doctor!'\ he interrupted, reddening. `Frances is quite
right: she'll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going
up-stairs? will you tell her that I'll come, if she'll promise not
to talk. I left her because she would not hold her tongue; and she
must---tell her Mr.\ Kenneth says she must be quiet.'

I delivered this message to Mrs.\ Earnshaw; she seemed in flighty
spirits, and replied merrily, `I hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there
he has gone out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I won't speak:
but that does not bind me not to laugh at him!'

Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failed
her; and her husband persisted doggedly, nay, furiously, in affirming
her health improved every day. When Kenneth warned him that his medicines
were useless at that stage of the malady, and he needn't put him to
further expense by attending her, he retorted, `I know you need not---she's
well---she does not want any more attendance from you! She never was
in a consumption. It was a fever; and it is gone: her pulse is as
slow as mine now, and her cheek as cool.'

He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to believe him; but
one night, while leaning on his shoulder, in the act of saying she
thought she should be able to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing
took her---a very slight one---he raised her in his arms; she put
her two hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.

As the girl had anticipated, the child Hareton fell wholly into my
hands. Mr.\ Earnshaw, provided he saw him healthy and never heard
him cry, was contented, as far as regarded him. For himself, he grew
desperate: his sorrow was of that kind that will not lament. He neither
wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied: execrated God and man, and
gave himself up to reckless dissipation. The servants could not bear
his tyrannical and evil conduct long: Joseph and I were the only two
that would stay. I had not the heart to leave my charge; and besides,
you know, I had been his foster-sister, and excused his behaviour
more readily than a stranger would. Joseph remained to hector over
tenants and labourers; and because it was his vocation to be where
he had plenty of wickedness to reprove.

The master's bad ways and bad companions formed a pretty example for
Catherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to
make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if the lad \textit{were}
possessed of something diabolical at that period. He delighted to
witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption; and became daily
more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity. I could not half
tell what an infernal house we had. The curate dropped calling, and
nobody decent came near us, at last; unless Edgar Linton's visits
to Miss Cathy might be an exception. At fifteen she was the queen
of the country-side; she had no peer; and she did turn out a haughty,
headstrong creature! I own I did not like her, after infancy was past;
and I vexed her frequently by trying to bring down her arrogance:
she never took an aversion to me, though. She had a wondrous constancy
to old attachments: even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections
unalterably; and young Linton, with all his superiority, found it
difficult to make an equally deep impression. He was my late master:
that is his portrait over the fireplace. It used to hang on one side,
and his wife's on the other; but hers has been removed, or else you
might see something of what she was. Can you make that out?

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

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

`Yes,' she answered; `but he looked better when he was animated; that
is his everyday countenance: he wanted spirit in general.'

Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since her
five-weeks' residence among them; and as she had no temptation to
show her rough side in their company, and had the sense to be ashamed
of being rude where she experienced such invariable courtesy, she
imposed unwittingly on the old lady and gentleman by her ingenious
cordiality; gained the admiration of Isabella, and the heart and soul
of her brother: acquisitions that flattered her from the first---for
she was full of ambition---and led her to adopt a double character
without exactly intending to deceive any one. In the place where she
heard Heathcliff termed a `vulgar young ruffian,' and `worse than
a brute,' she took care not to act like him; but at home she had small
inclination to practise politeness that would only be laughed at,
and restrain an unruly nature when it would bring her neither credit
nor praise.

Mr.\ Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly.
He had a terror of Earnshaw's reputation, and shrunk from encountering
him; and yet he was always received with our best attempts at civility:
the master himself avoided offending him, knowing why he came; and
if he could not be gracious, kept out of the way. I rather think his
appearance there was distasteful to Catherine; she was not artful,
never played the coquette, and had evidently an objection to her two
friends meeting at all; for when Heathcliff expressed contempt of
Linton in his presence, she could not half coincide, as she did in
his absence; and when Linton evinced disgust and antipathy to Heathcliff,
she dared not treat his sentiments with indifference, as if depreciation
of her playmate were of scarcely any consequence to her. I've had
many a laugh at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly
strove to hide from my mockery. That sounds ill-natured: but she was
so proud it became really impossible to pity her distresses, till
she should be chastened into more humility. She did bring herself,
finally, to confess, and to confide in me: there was not a soul else
that she might fashion into an adviser.

Mr.\ Hindley had gone from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed
to give himself a holiday on the strength of it. He had reached the
age of sixteen then, I think, and without having bad features, or
being deficient in intellect, he contrived to convey an impression
of inward and outward repulsiveness that his present aspect retains
no traces of. In the first place, he had by that time lost the benefit
of his early education: continual hard work, begun soon and concluded
late, had extinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit
of knowledge, and any love for books or learning. His childhood's
sense of superiority, instilled into him by the favours of old Mr.\ Earnshaw,
was faded away. He struggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine
in her studies, and yielded with poignant though silent regret: but
he yielded completely; and there was no prevailing on him to take
a step in the way of moving upward, when he found he must, necessarily,
sink beneath his former level. Then personal appearance sympathised
with mental deterioration: he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble
look; his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost
idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure,
apparently, in exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his
few acquaintance.

Catherine and he were constant companions still at his seasons of
respite from labour; but he had ceased to express his fondness for
her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses,
as if conscious there could be no gratification in lavishing such
marks of affection on him. On the before-named occasion he came into
the house to announce his intention of doing nothing, while I was
assisting Miss Cathy to arrange her dress: she had not reckoned on
his taking it into his head to be idle; and imagining she would have
the whole place to herself, she managed, by some means, to inform
Mr.\ Edgar of her brother's absence, and was then preparing to receive
him.

`Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?'\ asked Heathcliff. `Are you
going anywhere?'

`No, it is raining,' she answered.

`Why have you that silk frock on, then?'\ he said. `Nobody coming
here, I hope?'

`Not that I know of,' stammered Miss: `but you should be in the field
now, Heathcliff. It is an hour past dinnertime: I thought you were
gone.'

`Hindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,' observed
the boy. `I'll not work any more to-day: I'll stay with you.'

`Oh, but Joseph will tell,' she suggested; `you'd better go!'

`Joseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it
will take him till dark, and he'll never know.'

So, saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down. Catherine reflected
an instant, with knitted brows---she found it needful to smooth the
way for an intrusion. `Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling
this afternoon,' she said, at the conclusion of a minute's silence.
`As it rains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they
do, you run the risk of being scolded for no good.'

`Order Ellen to say you are engaged, Cathy,' he persisted; `don't
turn me out for those pitiful, silly friends of yours! I'm on the
point, sometimes, of complaining that they---but I'll not---'

`That they what?'\ cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubled
countenance. `Oh, Nelly!'\ she added petulantly, jerking her head
away from my hands, `you've combed my hair quite out of curl! That's
enough; let me alone. What are you on the point of complaining about,
Heathcliff?'

`Nothing---only look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to
a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, `The crosses
are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for
those spent with me. Do you see? I've marked every day.'

`Yes---very foolish: as if I took notice!'\ replied Catherine, in
a peevish tone. `And where is the sense of that?'

`To show that I \textit{do} take notice,' said Heathcliff.

`And should I always be sitting with you?'\ she demanded, growing
more irritated. `What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might
be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything
you do, either!'

`You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked
my company, Cathy!'\ exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.

`It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,'
she muttered.

Her companion rose up, but he hadn't time to express his feelings
further, for a horse's feet were heard on the flags, and having knocked
gently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at the
unexpected summon she had received. Doubtless Catherine marked the
difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went
out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly,
coal country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting
were as opposite as his aspect. He had a sweet, low manner of speaking,
and pronounced his words as you do: that's less gruff than we talk
here, and softer.

`I'm not come too soon, am I?'\ he said, casting a look at me: I
had begun to wipe the plate, and tidy some drawers at the far end
in the dresser.

`No,' answered Catherine. `What are you doing there, Nelly?'

`My work, Miss,' I replied.\  (Mr.\ Hindley had given me directions
to make a third party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.)

She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, `Take yourself and your
dusters off; when company are in the house, servants don't commence
scouring and cleaning in the room where they are!'

`It's a good opportunity, now that master is away,' I answered aloud:
`he hates me to be fidgeting over these things in his presence. I'm
sure Mr.\ Edgar will excuse me.'

`I hate you to be fidgeting in \textit{my} presence,' exclaimed the
young lady imperiously, not allowing her guest time to speak: she
had failed to recover her equanimity since the little dispute with
Heathcliff.

`I'm sorry for it, Miss Catherine,' was my response; and I proceeded
assiduously with my occupation.

She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my
hand, and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on
the arm. I've said I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying
her vanity now and then: besides, she hurt me extremely; so I started
up from my knees, and screamed out, `Oh, Miss, that's a nasty trick!
You have no right to nip me, and I'm not going to bear it.'

`I didn't touch you, you lying creature!'\ cried she, her fingers
tingling to repeat the act, and her ears red with rage. She never
had power to conceal her passion, it always set her whole complexion
in a blaze.

`What's that, then?'\ I retorted, showing a decided purple witness
to refute her.

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

`Catherine, love! Catherine!'\ interposed Linton, greatly shocked
at the double fault of falsehood and violence which his idol had committed.

`Leave the room, Ellen!'\ she repeated, trembling all over.

Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me
on the floor, at seeing my tears commenced crying himself, and sobbed
out complaints against `wicked aunt Cathy,' which drew her fury on
to his unlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till
the poor child waxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her
hands to deliver him. In an instant one was wrung free, and the astonished
young man felt it applied over his own ear in a way that could not
be mistaken for jest. He drew back in consternation. I lifted Hareton
in my arms, and walked off to the kitchen with him, leaving the door
of communication open, for I was curious to watch how they would settle
their disagreement. The insulted visitor moved to the spot where he
had laid his hat, pale and with a quivering lip.

`That's right!'\ I said to myself. `Take warning and begone! It's
a kindness to let you have a glimpse of her genuine disposition.'

`Where are you going?'\ demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.

He swerved aside, and attempted to pass.

`You must not go!'\ she exclaimed, energetically.

`I must and shall!'\ he replied in a subdued voice.

`No,' she persisted, grasping the handle; `not yet, Edgar Linton:
sit down; you shall not leave me in that temper. I should be miserable
all night, and I won't be miserable for you!'

`Can I stay after you have struck me?'\ asked Linton.

Catherine was mute.

`You've made me afraid and ashamed of you,' he continued; `I'll not
come here again!'

Her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.

`And you told a deliberate untruth!'\ he said.

`I didn't!'\ she cried, recovering her speech; `I did nothing deliberately.
Well, go, if you please---get away! And now I'll cry---I'll cry myself
sick!'

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

`Miss is dreadfully wayward, sir,' I called out. `As bad as any marred
child: you'd better be riding home, or else she will be sick, only
to grieve us.'

The soft thing looked askance through the window: he possessed the
power to depart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse
half killed, or a bird half eaten. Ah, I thought, there will be no
saving him: he's doomed, and flies to his fate! And so it was: he
turned abruptly, hastened into the house again, shut the door behind
him; and when I went in a while after to inform them that Earnshaw
had come home rabid drunk, ready to pull the whole place about our
ears (his ordinary frame of mind in that condition), I saw the quarrel
had merely effected a closer intimacy---had broken the outworks of
youthful timidity, and enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship,
and confess themselves lovers.

Intelligence of Mr.\ Hindley's arrival drove Linton speedily to his
horse, and Catherine to her chamber. I went to hide little Hareton,
and to take the shot out of the master's fowling-piece, which he was
fond of playing with in his insane excitement, to the hazard of the
lives of any who provoked, or even attracted his notice too much;
and I had hit upon the plan of removing it, that he might do less
mischief if he did go the length of firing the gun.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER IX}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER IX}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER IX}

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

`There, I've found it out at last!'\ cried Hindley, pulling me back
by the skin of my neck, like a dog. `By heaven and hell, you've sworn
between you to murder that child! I know how it is, now, that he is
always out of my way. But, with the help of Satan, I shall make you
swallow the carving-knife, Nelly! You needn't laugh; for I've just
crammed Kenneth, head-downmost, in the Black-horse marsh; and two
is the same as one---and I want to kill some of you: I shall have
no rest till I do!'

`But I don't like the carving-knife, Mr.\ Hindley,' I answered; `it
has been cutting red herrings. I'd rather be shot, if you please.'

`You'd rather be damned!'\ he said; `and so you shall. No law in
England can hinder a man from keeping his house decent, and mine's
abominable! Open your mouth.' He held the knife in his hand, and pushed
its point between my teeth: but, for my part, I was never much afraid
of his vagaries. I spat out, and affirmed it tasted detestably---I
would not take it on any account.

`Oh!'\ said he, releasing me, `I see that hideous little villain
is not Hareton: I beg your pardon, Nell. If it be, he deserves flaying
alive for not running to welcome me, and for screaming as if I were
a goblin. Unnatural cub, come hither! I'll teach thee to impose on
a good-hearted, deluded father. Now, don't you think the lad would
be handsomer cropped? It makes a dog fiercer, and I love something
fierce---get me a scissors---something fierce and trim! Besides, it's
infernal affectation---devilish conceit it is, to cherish our ears---we're
asses enough without them. Hush, child, hush! Well then, it is my
darling!\ wisht, dry thy eyes---there's a joy; kiss me. What!\ it
won't? Kiss me, Hareton! Damn thee, kiss me! By God, as if I would
rear such a monster! As sure as I'm living, I'll break the brat's
neck.'

Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all
his might, and redoubled his yells when he carried him up-stairs and
lifted him over the banister. I cried out that he would frighten the
child into fits, and ran to rescue him. As I reached them, Hindley
leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below; almost forgetting
what he had in his hands. `Who is that?'\ he asked, hearing some
one approaching the stairs'-foot. I leant forward also, for the purpose
of signing to Heathcliff, whose step I recognised, not to come further;
and, at the instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden
spring, delivered himself from the careless grasp that held him, and
fell.

There was scarcely time to experience a thrill of horror before we
saw that the little wretch was safe. Heathcliff arrived underneath
just at the critical moment; by a natural impulse he arrested his
descent, and setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the author
of the accident. A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket
for five shillings, and finds next day he has lost in the bargain
five thousand pounds, could not show a blanker countenance than he
did on beholding the figure of Mr.\ Earnshaw above. It expressed,
plainer than words could do, the intensest anguish at having made
himself the instrument of thwarting his own revenge. Had it been dark,
I daresay he would have tried to remedy the mistake by smashing Hareton's
skull on the steps; but, we witnessed his salvation; and I was presently
below with my precious charge pressed to my heart. Hindley descended
more leisurely, sobered and abashed.

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

`Injured!'\ I cried angrily; `if he is not killed, he'll be an idiot!
Oh! I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave to see how you
use him. You're worse than a heathen---treating your own flesh and
blood in that manner!' He attempted to touch the child, who, on finding
himself with me, sobbed off his terror directly. At the first finger
his father laid on him, however, he shrieked again louder than before,
and struggled as if he would go into convulsions.

`You shall not meddle with him!'\ I continued. `He hates you---they
all hate you---that's the truth! A happy family you have; and a pretty
state you're come to!'

`I shall come to a prettier, yet, Nelly,' laughed the misguided man,
recovering his hardness. `At present, convey yourself and him away.
And hark you, Heathcliff!\ clear you too quite from my reach and
hearing. I wouldn't murder you to-night; unless, perhaps, I set the
house on fire: but that's as my fancy goes.'

While saying this he took a pint bottle of brandy from the dresser,
and poured some into a tumbler.

`Nay, don't!'\ I entreated. `Mr.\ Hindley, do take warning. Have
mercy on this unfortunate boy, if you care nothing for yourself!'

`Any one will do better for him than I shall,' he answered.

`Have mercy on your own soul!'\ I said, endeavouring to snatch the
glass from his hand.

`Not I! On the contrary, I shall have great pleasure in sending it
to perdition to punish its Maker,' exclaimed the blasphemer. `Here's
to its hearty damnation!'

He drank the spirits and impatiently bade us go; terminating his command
with a sequel of horrid imprecations too bad to repeat or remember.

`It's a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,' observed Heathcliff,
muttering an echo of curses back when the door was shut. `He's doing
his very utmost; but his constitution defies him. Mr.\ Kenneth says
he would wager his mare that he'll outlive any man on this side Gimmerton,
and go to the grave a hoary sinner; unless some happy chance out of
the common course befall him.'

I went into the kitchen, and sat down to lull my little lamb to sleep.
Heathcliff, as I thought, walked through to the barn. It turned out
afterwards that he only got as far as the other side the settle, when
he flung himself on a bench by the wall, removed from the fire and
remained silent.

I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song that began,---

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse}

It was far in the night, \\*

\ \ and the bairnies grat, \\*

The mither beneath \\*

\ \ the mools heard that,

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

\noindent{}when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her
room, put her head in, and whispered,---`Are you alone, Nelly?'

`Yes, Miss,' I replied.

She entered and approached the hearth. I, supposing she was going
to say something, looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed
and anxious. Her lips were half asunder, as if she meant to speak,
and she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence.
I resumed my song; not having forgotten her recent behaviour.

`Where's Heathcliff?'\ she said, interrupting me.

`About his work in the stable,' was my answer.

He did not contradict me; perhaps he had fallen into a doze. There
followed another long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two
trickle from Catherine's cheek to the flags. Is she sorry for her
shameful conduct?---I asked myself. That will be a novelty: but she
may come to the point---as she will---I sha'n't help her! No, she
felt small trouble regarding any subject, save her own concerns.

`Oh, dear!'\ she cried at last. `I'm very unhappy!'

`A pity,' observed I. `You're hard to please; so many friends and
so few cares, and can't make yourself content!'

`Nelly, will you keep a secret for me?'\ she pursued, kneeling down
by me, and lifting her winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look
which turns off bad temper, even when one has all the right in the
world to indulge it.

`Is it worth keeping?'\ I inquired, less sulkily.

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

`Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?'\ I replied. `To be sure,
considering the exhibition you performed in his presence this afternoon,
I might say it would be wise to refuse him: since he asked you after
that, he must either be hopelessly stupid or a venturesome fool.'

`If you talk so, I won't tell you any more,' she returned, peevishly
rising to her feet. `I accepted him, Nelly. Be quick, and say whether
I was wrong!'

`You accepted him! Then what good is it discussing the matter? You
have pledged your word, and cannot retract.'

`But say whether I should have done so---do!'\ she exclaimed in an
irritated tone; chafing her hands together, and frowning.

`There are many things to be considered before that question can be
answered properly,' I said, sententiously. `First and foremost, do
you love Mr.\ Edgar?'

`Who can help it? Of course I do,' she answered.

Then I put her through the following catechism: for a girl of twenty-two
it was not injudicious.

`Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?'

`Nonsense, I do---that's sufficient.'

`By no means; you must say why?'

`Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.'

`Bad!'\ was my commentary.

`And because he is young and cheerful.'

`Bad, still.'

`And because he loves me.'

`Indifferent, coming there.'

`And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of
the neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.'

`Worst of all. And now, say how you love him?'

`As everybody loves---You're silly, Nelly.'

`Not at all---Answer.'

`I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and
everything he touches, and every word he says. I love all his looks,
and all his actions, and him entirely and altogether. There now!'

`And why?'

`Nay; you are making a jest of it: it is exceedingly ill-natured!
It's no jest to me!'\ said the young lady, scowling, and turning
her face to the fire.

`I'm very far from jesting, Miss Catherine,' I replied. `You love
Mr.\ Edgar because he is handsome, and young, and cheerful, and rich,
and loves you. The last, however, goes for nothing: you would love
him without that, probably; and with it you wouldn't, unless he possessed
the four former attractions.'

`No, to be sure not: I should only pity him---hate him, perhaps, if
he were ugly, and a clown.'

`But there are several other handsome, rich young men in the world:
handsomer, possibly, and richer than he is. What should hinder you
from loving them?'

`If there be any, they are out of my way: I've seen none like Edgar.'

`You may see some; and he won't always be handsome, and young, and
may not always be rich.'

`He is now; and I have only to do with the present. I wish you would
speak rationally.'

`Well, that settles it: if you have only to do with the present, marry
Mr.\ Linton.'

`I don't want your permission for that---I \textit{shall} marry him:
and yet you have not told me whether I'm right.'

`Perfectly right; if people be right to marry only for the present.
And now, let us hear what you are unhappy about. Your brother will
be pleased; the old lady and gentleman will not object, I think; you
will escape from a disorderly, comfortless home into a wealthy, respectable
one; and you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you. All seems smooth and
easy: where is the obstacle?'

`\textit{Here}!\ and \textit{here}!'\ replied Catherine, striking
one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast: `in whichever
place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I'm
wrong!'

`That's very strange! I cannot make it out.'

`It's my secret. But if you will not mock at me, I'll explain it:
I can't do it distinctly; but I'll give you a feeling of how I feel.'

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

`Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?'\ she said, suddenly, after
some minutes' reflection.

`Yes, now and then,' I answered.

`And so do I.\  I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with
me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through
me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. And
this is one: I'm going to tell it---but take care not to smile at
any part of it.'

`Oh!\ don't, Miss Catherine!'\ I cried. `We're dismal enough without
conjuring up ghosts and visions to perplex us. Come, come, be merry
and like yourself! Look at little Hareton! \textit{He's} dreaming
nothing dreary. How sweetly he smiles in his sleep!'

`Yes; and how sweetly his father curses in his solitude! You remember
him, I daresay, when he was just such another as that chubby thing:
nearly as young and innocent. However, Nelly, I shall oblige you to
listen: it's not long; and I've no power to be merry to-night.'

`I won't hear it, I won't hear it!'\ I repeated, hastily.

I was superstitious about dreams then, and am still; and Catherine
had an unusual gloom in her aspect, that made me dread something from
which I might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe.
She was vexed, but she did not proceed. Apparently taking up another
subject, she recommenced in a short time.

`If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable.'

`Because you are not fit to go there,' I answered. `All sinners would
be miserable in heaven.'

`But it is not for that. I dreamt once that I was there.'

`I tell you I won't hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine! I'll go
to bed,' I interrupted again.

She laughed, and held me down; for I made a motion to leave my chair.

`This is nothing,' cried she: `I was only going to say that heaven
did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come
back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out
into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where
I woke sobbing for joy. That will do to explain my secret, as well
as the other. I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have
to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff
so low, I shouldn't have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry
Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not
because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I
am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and
Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from
fire.'

Ere this speech ended I became sensible of Heathcliff's presence.
Having noticed a slight movement, I turned my head, and saw him rise
from the bench, and steal out noiselessly. He had listened till he
heard Catherine say it would degrade her to marry him, and then he
stayed to hear no further. My companion, sitting on the ground, was
prevented by the back of the settle from remarking his presence or
departure; but I started, and bade her hush!

`Why?'\ she asked, gazing nervously round.

`Joseph is here,' I answered, catching opportunely the roll of his
cartwheels up the road; `and Heathcliff will come in with him. I'm
not sure whether he were not at the door this moment.'

`Oh, he couldn't overhear me at the door!'\ said she. `Give me Hareton,
while you get the supper, and when it is ready ask me to sup with
you. I want to cheat my uncomfortable conscience, and be convinced
that Heathcliff has no notion of these things. He has not, has he?
He does not know what being in love is!'

`I see no reason that he should not know, as well as you,' I returned;
`and if you are his choice, he'll be the most unfortunate creature
that ever was born! As soon as you become Mrs.\ Linton, he loses
friend, and love, and all! Have you considered how you'll bear the
separation, and how he'll bear to be quite deserted in the world?
Because, Miss Catherine---'

`He quite deserted!\ we separated!'\ she exclaimed, with an accent
of indignation. `Who is to separate us, pray? They'll meet the fate
of Milo! Not as long as I live, Ellen: for no mortal creature. Every
Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing before I could
consent to forsake Heathcliff. Oh, that's not what I intend---that's
not what I mean! I shouldn't be Mrs.\ Linton were such a price demanded!
He'll be as much to me as he has been all his lifetime. Edgar must
shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least. He will, when
he learns my true feelings towards him. Nelly, I see now you think
me a selfish wretch; but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff
and I married, we should be beggars? whereas, if I marry Linton I
can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power.'

`With your husband's money, Miss Catherine?'\ I asked. `You'll find
him not so pliable as you calculate upon: and, though I'm hardly a
judge, I think that's the worst motive you've given yet for being
the wife of young Linton.'

`It is not,' retorted she; `it is the best! The others were the satisfaction
of my whims: and for Edgar's sake, too, to satisfy him. This is for
the sake of one who comprehends in his person my feelings to Edgar
and myself. I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have
a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.
What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?
My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and
I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living
is himself. If all else perished, and \textit{he} remained, I should
still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated,
the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a
part of it.---My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods:
time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees.
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source
of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I \textit{am} Heathcliff!
He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I
am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don't talk
of our separation again: it is impracticable; \mbox{and---'}

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

`If I can make any sense of your nonsense, Miss,' I said, `it only
goes to convince me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake
in marrying; or else that you are a wicked, unprincipled girl. But
trouble me with no more secrets: I'll not promise to keep them.'

`You'll keep that?'\ she asked, eagerly.

`No, I'll not promise,' I repeated.

She was about to insist, when the entrance of Joseph finished our
conversation; and Catherine removed her seat to a corner, and nursed
Hareton, while I made the supper. After it was cooked, my fellow-servant
and I began to quarrel who should carry some to Mr.\ Hindley; and
we didn't settle it till all was nearly cold. Then we came to the
agreement that we would let him ask, if he wanted any; for we feared
particularly to go into his presence when he had been some time alone.

`And how isn't that nowt comed in fro' th' field, be this time? What
is he about? girt idle seeght!'\ demanded the old man, looking round
for Heathcliff.

`I'll call him,' I replied. `He's in the barn, I've no doubt.'

I went and called, but got no answer. On returning, I whispered to
Catherine that he had heard a good part of what she said, I was sure;
and told how I saw him quit the kitchen just as she complained of
her brother's conduct regarding him. She jumped up in a fine fright,
flung Hareton on to the settle, and ran to seek for her friend herself;
not taking leisure to consider why she was so flurried, or how her
talk would have affected him. She was absent such a while that Joseph
proposed we should wait no longer. He cunningly conjectured they were
staying away in order to avoid hearing his protracted blessing. They
were `ill eneugh for ony fahl manners,' he affirmed. And on their
behalf he added that night a special prayer to the usual quarter-of-an-hour's
supplication before meat, and would have tacked another to the end
of the grace, had not his young mistress broken in upon him with a
hurried command that he must run down the road, and, wherever Heathcliff
had rambled, find and make him re-enter directly!

`I want to speak to him, and I \textit{must}, before I go upstairs,'
she said. `And the gate is open: he is somewhere out of hearing; for
he would not reply, though I shouted at the top of the fold as loud
as I could.'

Joseph objected at first; she was too much in earnest, however, to
suffer contradiction; and at last he placed his hat on his head, and
walked grumbling forth. Meantime, Catherine paced up and down the
floor, exclaiming---`I wonder where he is---I wonder where he can
be! What did I say, Nelly? I've forgotten. Was he vexed at my bad
humour this afternoon? Dear!\ tell me what I've said to grieve him?
I do wish he'd come. I do wish he would!'

`What a noise for nothing!'\ I cried, though rather uneasy myself.
`What a trifle scares you! It's surely no great cause of alarm that
Heathcliff should take a moonlight saunter on the moors, or even lie
too sulky to speak to us in the hay-loft. I'll engage he's lurking
there. See if I don't ferret him out!'

I departed to renew my search; its result was disappointment, and
Joseph's quest ended in the same.

`Yon lad gets war und war!'\ observed he on re-entering. `He's left
th' gate at t' full swing, and Miss's pony has trodden dahn two rigs
o' corn, and plottered through, raight o'er into t' meadow! Hahsomdiver,
t' maister `ull play t' devil to-morn, and he'll do weel. He's patience
itsseln wi' sich careless, offald craters---patience itsseln he is!
Bud he'll not be soa allus---yah's see, all on ye! Yah mun'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 a neeght loike
this---as black as t' chimbley!\ und Heathcliff's noan t' chap to
coom at \textit{my} whistle---happen he'll be less hard o' hearing
wi' \textit{ye}!'

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

About midnight, while we still sat up, the storm came rattling over
the Heights in full fury. There was a violent wind, as well as thunder,
and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the
building: a huge bough fell across the roof, and knocked down a portion
of the east chimney-stack, sending a clatter of stones and soot into
the kitchen-fire. We thought a bolt had fallen in the middle of us;
and Joseph swung on to his knees, beseeching the Lord to remember
the patriarchs Noah and Lot, and, as in former times, spare the righteous,
though he smote the ungodly. I felt some sentiment that it must be
a judgment on us also. The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr.\ Earnshaw;
and I shook the handle of his den that I might ascertain if he were
yet living. He replied audibly enough, in a fashion which made my
companion vociferate, more clamorously than before, that a wide distinction
might be drawn between saints like himself and sinners like his master.
But the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all unharmed;
excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched for her obstinacy in
refusing to take shelter, and standing bonnetless and shawl-less to
catch as much water as she could with her hair and clothes. She came
in and lay down on the settle, all soaked as she was, turning her
face to the back, and putting her hands before it.

`Well, Miss!'\ I exclaimed, touching her shoulder; `you are not bent
on getting your death, are you? Do you know what o'clock it is? Half-past
twelve. Come, come to bed!\ there's no use waiting any longer on
that foolish boy: he'll be gone to Gimmerton, and he'll stay there
now. He guesses we shouldn't wait for him till this late hour: at
least, he guesses that only Mr.\ Hindley would be up; and he'd rather
avoid having the door opened by the master.'

`Nay, nay, he's noan at Gimmerton,' said Joseph. `I's niver wonder
but he's at t' bothom of a bog-hoile. This visitation worn't for nowt,
and I wod hev' ye to look out, Miss---yah muh be t' next. Thank Hivin
for all! All warks togither for gooid to them as is chozzen, and piked
out fro' th' rubbidge! Yah knaw whet t' Scripture ses.' And he began
quoting several texts, referring us to chapters and verses where we
might find them.

I, having vainly begged the wilful girl to rise and remove her wet
things, left him preaching and her shivering, and betook myself to
bed with little Hareton, who slept as fast as if everyone had been
sleeping round him. I heard Joseph read on a while afterwards; then
I distinguished his slow step on the ladder, and then I dropped asleep.

Coming down somewhat later than usual, I saw, by the sunbeams piercing
the chinks of the shutters, Miss Catherine still seated near the fireplace.
The house-door was ajar, too; light entered from its unclosed windows;
Hindley had come out, and stood on the kitchen hearth, haggard and
drowsy.

`What ails you, Cathy?'\ he was saying when I entered: `you look
as dismal as a drowned whelp. Why are you so damp and pale, child?'

`I've been wet,' she answered reluctantly, `and I'm cold, that's all.'

`Oh, she is naughty!'\ I cried, perceiving the master to be tolerably
sober. `She got steeped in the shower of yesterday evening, and there
she has sat the night through, and I couldn't prevail on her to stir.'

Mr.\ Earnshaw stared at us in surprise. `The night through,' he repeated.
`What kept her up? not fear of the thunder, surely? That was over
hours since.'

Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff's absence, as long as we
could conceal it; so I replied, I didn't know how she took it into
her head to sit up; and she said nothing. The morning was fresh and
cool; I threw back the lattice, and presently the room filled with
sweet scents from the garden; but Catherine called peevishly to me,
`Ellen, shut the window. I'm starving!' And her teeth chattered as
she shrank closer to the almost extinguished embers.

`She's ill,' said Hindley, taking her wrist; `I suppose that's the
reason she would not go to bed. Damn it! I don't want to be troubled
with more sickness here. What took you into the rain?'

`Running after t' lads, as usuald!'\ croaked Joseph, catching an
opportunity from our hesitation to thrust in his evil tongue. `If
I war yah, maister, I'd just slam t' boards i' their faces all on
'em, gentle and simple! Never a day ut yah're off, but yon cat o'
Linton comes sneaking hither; and Miss Nelly, shoo's a fine lass!\ shoo
sits watching for ye i' t' kitchen; and as yah're in at one door,
he's out at t'other; and, then, wer grand lady goes a-courting of
her side! It's bonny behaviour, lurking amang t' fields, after twelve
o' t' night, wi' that fahl, flaysome divil of a gipsy, Heathcliff!
They think \textit{I'm} blind; but I'm noan: nowt ut t' soart!---I
seed young Linton boath coming and going, and I seed \textit{yah}'
(directing his discourse to me), `yah gooid fur nowt, slattenly witch!\ nip
up and bolt into th' house, t' minute yah heard t' maister's horse-fit
clatter up t' road.'

`Silence, eavesdropper!'\ cried Catherine; `none of your insolence
before me! Edgar Linton came yesterday by chance, Hindley; and it
was I who told him to be off: because I knew you would not like to
have met him as you were.'

`You lie, Cathy, no doubt,' answered her brother, `and you are a confounded
simpleton! But never mind Linton at present: tell me, were you not
with Heathcliff last night? Speak the truth, now. You need not he
afraid of harming him: though I hate him as much as ever, he did me
a good turn a short time since that will make my conscience tender
of breaking his neck. To prevent it, I shall send him about his business
this very morning; and after he's gone, I'd advise you all to look
sharp: I shall only have the more humour for you.'

`I never saw Heathcliff last night,' answered Catherine, beginning
to sob bitterly: `and if you do turn him out of doors, I'll go with
him. But, perhaps, you'll never have an opportunity: perhaps, he's
gone.' Here she burst into uncontrollable grief, and the remainder
of her words were inarticulate.

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

Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master
were no better, and though our patient was as wearisome and headstrong
as a patient could be, she weathered it through. Old Mrs.\ Linton
paid us several visits, to be sure, and set things to rights, and
scolded and ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent, she
insisted on conveying her to Thrushcross Grange: for which deliverance
we were very grateful. But the poor dame had reason to repent of her
kindness: she and her husband both took the fever, and died within
a few days of each other.

Our young lady returned to us saucier and more passionate, and haughtier
than ever. Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of
the thunder-storm; and, one day, I had the misfortune, when she had
provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on
her: where indeed it belonged, as she well knew. From that period,
for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me,
save in the relation of a mere servant. Joseph fell under a ban also:
he would speak his mind, and lecture her all the same as if she were
a little girl; and she esteemed herself a woman, and our mistress,
and thought that her recent illness gave her a claim to be treated
with consideration. Then the doctor had said that she would not bear
crossing much; she ought to have her own way; and it was nothing less
than murder in her eyes for any one to presume to stand up and contradict
her. From Mr.\ Earnshaw and his companions she kept aloof; and tutored
by Kenneth, and serious threats of a fit that often attended her rages,
her brother allowed her whatever she pleased to demand, and generally
avoided aggravating her fiery temper. He was rather too indulgent
in humouring her caprices; not from affection, but from pride: he
wished earnestly to see her bring honour to the family by an alliance
with the Lintons, and as long as she let him alone she might trample
on us like slaves, for aught he cared! Edgar Linton, as multitudes
have been before and will be after him, was infatuated: and believed
himself the happiest man alive on the day he led her to Gimmerton
Chapel, three years subsequent to his father's death.

Much against my inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights
and accompany her here, Little Hareton was nearly five years old,
and I had just begun to teach him his letters. We made a sad parting;
but Catherine's tears were more powerful than ours. When I refused
to go, and when she found her entreaties did not move me, she went
lamenting to her husband and brother. The former offered me munificent
wages; the latter ordered me to pack up: he wanted no women in the
house, he said, now that there was no mistress; and as to Hareton,
the curate should take him in hand, by-and-by. And so I had but one
choice left: to do as I was ordered. I told the master he got rid
of all decent people only to run to ruin a little faster; I kissed
Hareton, said good-by; and since then he has been a stranger: and
it's very queer to think it, but I've no doubt he has completely forgotten
all about Ellen Dean, and that he was ever more than all the world
to her and she to him!

At this point of the housekeeper's story she chanced to glance towards
the time-piece over the chimney; and was in amazement on seeing the
minute-hand measure half-past one. She would not hear of staying a
second longer: in truth, I felt rather disposed to defer the sequel
of her narrative myself. And now that she is vanished to her rest,
and I have meditated for another hour or two, I shall summon courage
to go also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER X}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER X}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER X}

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

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

`It wants twenty minutes, sir, to taking the medicine,' she commenced.

`Away, away with it!'\ I replied; `I desire to have---'

`The doctor says you must drop the powders.'

`With all my heart! Don't interrupt me. Come and take your seat here.
Keep your fingers from that bitter phalanx of vials. Draw your knitting
out of your pocket---that will do---now continue the history of Mr.\ Heathcliff,
from where you left off, to the present day. Did he finish his education
on the Continent, and come back a gentleman? or did he get a sizar's
place at college, or escape to America, and earn honours by drawing
blood from his foster-country? or make a fortune more promptly on
the English highways?'

`He may have done a little in all these vocations, Mr.\ Lockwood;
but I couldn't give my word for any. I stated before that I didn't
know how he gained his money; neither am I aware of the means he took
to raise his mind from the savage ignorance into which it was sunk:
but, with your leave, I'll proceed in my own fashion, if you think
it will amuse and not weary you. Are you feeling better this morning?'

`Much.'

`That's good news.'

I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange; and, to my
agreeable disappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared
to expect. She seemed almost over-fond of Mr.\ Linton; and even to
his sister she showed plenty of affection. They were both very attentive
to her comfort, certainly. It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles,
but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn. There were no mutual concessions:
one stood erect, and the others yielded: and who can be ill-natured
and bad-tempered when they encounter neither opposition nor indifference?
I observed that Mr.\ Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of ruffling her
humour. He concealed it from her; but if ever he heard me answer sharply,
or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some imperious order of hers,
he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure that never darkened
on his own account. He many a time spoke sternly to me about my pertness;
and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict a worse pang
than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed. Not to grieve a kind master,
I learned to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a year, the
gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode
it. Catherine had seasons of gloom and silence now and then: they
were respected with sympathising silence by her husband, who ascribed
them to an alteration in her constitution, produced by her perilous
illness; as she was never subject to depression of spirits before.
The return of sunshine was welcomed by answering sunshine from him.
I believe I may assert that they were really in possession of deep
and growing happiness.

It ended. Well, we \textit{must} be for ourselves in the long run;
the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering;
and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that the one's
interest was not the chief consideration in the other's thoughts.
On a mellow evening in September, I was coming from the garden with
a heavy basket of apples which I had been gathering. It had got dusk,
and the moon looked over the high wall of the court, causing undefined
shadows to lurk in the corners of the numerous projecting portions
of the building. I set my burden on the house-steps by the kitchen-door,
and lingered to rest, and drew in a few more breaths of the soft,
sweet air; my eyes were on the moon, and my back to the entrance,
when I heard a voice behind me say,---`Nelly, is that you?'

It was a deep voice, and foreign in tone; yet there was something
in the manner of pronouncing my name which made it sound familiar.
I turned about to discover who spoke, fearfully; for the doors were
shut, and I had seen nobody on approaching the steps. Something stirred
in the porch; and, moving nearer, I distinguished a tall man dressed
in dark clothes, with dark face and hair. He leant against the side,
and held his fingers on the latch as if intending to open for himself.
`Who can it be?'\ I thought. `Mr.\ Earnshaw? Oh, no! The voice has
no resemblance to his.'

`I have waited here an hour,' he resumed, while I continued staring;
`and the whole of that time all round has been as still as death.
I dared not enter. You do not know me? Look, I'm not a stranger!'

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

`What!'\ I cried, uncertain whether to regard him as a worldly visitor,
and I raised my hands in amazement. `What!\ you come back? Is it
really you? Is it?'

`Yes, Heathcliff,' he replied, glancing from me up to the windows,
which reflected a score of glittering moons, but showed no lights
from within. `Are they at home? where is she? Nelly, you are not glad!\ you
needn't be so disturbed. Is she here? Speak! I want to have one word
with her---your mistress. Go, and say some person from Gimmerton desires
to see her.'

`How will she take it?'\ I exclaimed. `What will she do? The surprise
bewilders me---it will put her out of her head! And you \textit{are}
Heathcliff! But altered! Nay, there's no comprehending it. Have you
been for a soldier?'

`Go and carry my message,' he interrupted, impatiently. `I'm in hell
till you do!'

He lifted the latch, and I entered; but when I got to the parlour
where Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Linton were, I could not persuade myself to
proceed. At length I resolved on making an excuse to ask if they would
have the candles lighted, and I opened the door.

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

`What does he want?'\ asked Mrs.\ Linton.

`I did not question him,' I answered.

`Well, close the curtains, Nelly,' she said; `and bring up tea. I'll
be back again directly.'

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

`Some one mistress does not expect,' I replied. `That Heathcliff---you
recollect him, sir---who used to live at Mr.\ Earnshaw's.'

`What!\ the gipsy---the ploughboy?'\ he cried. `Why did you not
say so to Catherine?'

`Hush!\ you must not call him by those names, master,' I said. `She'd
be sadly grieved to hear you. She was nearly heartbroken when he ran
off. I guess his return will make a jubilee to her.'

Mr.\ Linton walked to a window on the other side of the room that
overlooked the court. He unfastened it, and leant out. I suppose they
were below, for he exclaimed quickly: `Don't stand there, love! Bring
the person in, if it be anyone particular.' Ere long, I heard the
click of the latch, and Catherine flew up-stairs, breathless and wild;
too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather
have surmised an awful calamity.

`Oh, Edgar, Edgar!'\ she panted, flinging her arms round his neck.
`Oh, Edgar darling! Heathcliff's come back---he is!' And she tightened
her embrace to a squeeze.

`Well, well,' cried her husband, crossly, `don't strangle me for that!
He never struck me as such a marvellous treasure. There is no need
to be frantic!'

`I know you didn't like him,' she answered, repressing a little the
intensity of her delight. `Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now.
Shall I tell him to come up?'

`Here,' he said, `into the parlour?'

`Where else?'\ she asked.

He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place
for him. Mrs.\ Linton eyed him with a droll expression---half angry,
half laughing at his fastidiousness.

`No,' she added, after a while; `I cannot sit in the kitchen. Set
two tables here, Ellen: one for your master and Miss Isabella, being
gentry; the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders.
Will that please you, dear? Or must I have a fire lighted elsewhere?
If so, give directions. I'll run down and secure my guest. I'm afraid
the joy is too great to be real!'

She was about to dart off again; but Edgar arrested her.

`\textit{You} bid him step up,' he said, addressing me; `and, Catherine,
try to be glad, without being absurd. The whole household need not
witness the sight of your welcoming a runaway servant as a brother.'

I descended, and found Heathcliff waiting under the porch, evidently
anticipating an invitation to enter. He followed my guidance without
waste of words, and I ushered him into the presence of the master
and mistress, whose flushed cheeks betrayed signs of warm talking.
But the lady's glowed with another feeling when her friend appeared
at the door: she sprang forward, took both his hands, and led him
to Linton; and then she seized Linton's reluctant fingers and crushed
them into his. Now, fully revealed by the fire and candlelight, I
was amazed, more than ever, to behold the transformation of Heathcliff.
He had grown a tall, athletic, well-formed man; beside whom my master
seemed quite slender and youth-like. His upright carriage suggested
the idea of his having been in the army. His countenance was much
older in expression and decision of feature than Mr.\ Linton's; it
looked intelligent, and retained no marks of former degradation. A
half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the depressed brows and eyes
full of black fire, but it was subdued; and his manner was even dignified:
quite divested of roughness, though stern for grace. My master's surprise
equalled or exceeded mine: he remained for a minute at a loss how
to address the ploughboy, as he had called him. Heathcliff dropped
his slight hand, and stood looking at him coolly till he chose to
speak.

`Sit down, sir,' he said, at length. `Mrs.\ Linton, recalling old
times, would have me give you a cordial reception; and, of course,
I am gratified when anything occurs to please her.'

`And I also,' answered Heathcliff, `especially if it be anything in
which I have a part. I shall stay an hour or two willingly.'

He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him
as if she feared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not
raise his to her often: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but
it flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight
he drank from hers. They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy
to suffer embarrassment. Not so Mr.\ Edgar: he grew pale with pure
annoyance: a feeling that reached its climax when his lady rose, and
stepping across the rug, seized Heathcliff's hands again, and laughed
like one beside herself.

`I shall think it a dream to-morrow!'\ she cried. `I shall not be
able to believe that I have seen, and touched, and spoken to you once
more. And yet, cruel Heathcliff!\ you don't deserve this welcome.
To be absent and silent for three years, and never to think of me!'

`A little more than you have thought of me,' he murmured. `I heard
of your marriage, Cathy, not long since; and, while waiting in the
yard below, I meditated this plan---just to have one glimpse of your
face, a stare of surprise, perhaps, and pretended pleasure; afterwards
settle my score with Hindley; and then prevent the law by doing execution
on myself. Your welcome has put these ideas out of my mind; but beware
of meeting me with another aspect next time! Nay, you'll not drive
me off again. You were really sorry for me, were you? Well, there
was cause. I've fought through a bitter life since I last heard your
voice; and you must forgive me, for I struggled only for you!'

`Catherine, unless we are to have cold tea, please to come to the
table,' interrupted Linton, striving to preserve his ordinary tone,
and a due measure of politeness. `Mr.\ Heathcliff will have a long
walk, wherever he may lodge to-night; and I'm thirsty.'

She took her post before the urn; and Miss Isabella came, summoned
by the bell; then, having handed their chairs forward, I left the
room. The meal hardly endured ten minutes. Catherine's cup was never
filled: she could neither eat nor drink. Edgar had made a slop in
his saucer, and scarcely swallowed a mouthful. Their guest did not
protract his stay that evening above an hour longer. I asked, as he
departed, if he went to Gimmerton?

`No, to Wuthering Heights,' he answered: `Mr.\ Earnshaw invited me,
when I called this morning.'

Mr.\ Earnshaw invited \textit{him}!\ and \textit{he} called on Mr.\ Earnshaw!
I pondered this sentence painfully, after he was gone. Is he turning
out a bit of a hypocrite, and coming into the country to work mischief
under a cloak? I mused: I had a presentiment in the bottom of my heart
that he had better have remained away.

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

`I cannot rest, Ellen,' she said, by way of apology. `And I want some
living creature to keep me company in my happiness! Edgar is sulky,
because I'm glad of a thing that does not interest him: he refuses
to open his mouth, except to utter pettish, silly speeches; and he
affirmed I was cruel and selfish for wishing to talk when he was so
sick and sleepy. He always contrives to be sick at the least cross!
I gave a few sentences of commendation to Heathcliff, and he, either
for a headache or a pang of envy, began to cry: so I got up and left
him.'

`What use is it praising Heathcliff to him?'\ I answered. `As lads
they had an aversion to each other, and Heathcliff would hate just
as much to hear him praised: it's human nature. Let Mr.\ Linton alone
about him, unless you would like an open quarrel between them.'

`But does it not show great weakness?'\ pursued she. `I'm not envious:
I never feel hurt at the brightness of Isabella's yellow hair and
the whiteness of her skin, at her dainty elegance, and the fondness
all the family exhibit for her. Even you, Nelly, if we have a dispute
sometimes, you back Isabella at once; and I yield like a foolish mother:
I call her a darling, and flatter her into a good temper. It pleases
her brother to see us cordial, and that pleases me. But they are very
much alike: they are spoiled children, and fancy the world was made
for their accommodation; and though I humour both, I think a smart
chastisement might improve them all the same.'

`You're mistaken, Mrs.\ Linton,' said I. `They humour you: I know
what there would be to do if they did not. You can well afford to
indulge their passing whims as long as their business is to anticipate
all your desires. You may, however, fall out, at last, over something
of equal consequence to both sides; and then those you term weak are
very capable of being as obstinate as you.'

`And then we shall fight to the death, sha'n't we, Nelly?'\ she returned,
laughing. `No! I tell you, I have such faith in Linton's love, that
I believe I might kill him, and he wouldn't wish to retaliate.'

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

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

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

`He explained it,' she replied. `I wonder as much as you. He said
he called to gather information concerning me from you, supposing
you resided there still; and Joseph told Hindley, who came out and
fell to questioning him of what he had been doing, and how he had
been living; and finally, desired him to walk in. There were some
persons sitting at cards; Heathcliff joined them; my brother lost
some money to him, and, finding him plentifully supplied, he requested
that he would come again in the evening: to which he consented. Hindley
is too reckless to select his acquaintance prudently: he doesn't trouble
himself to reflect on the causes he might have for mistrusting one
whom he has basely injured. But Heathcliff affirms his principal reason
for resuming a connection with his ancient persecutor is a wish to
instal himself in quarters at walking distance from the Grange, and
an attachment to the house where we lived together; and likewise a
hope that I shall have more opportunities of seeing him there than
I could have if he settled in Gimmerton. He means to offer liberal
payment for permission to lodge at the Heights; and doubtless my brother's
covetousness will prompt him to accept the terms: he was always greedy;
though what he grasps with one hand he flings away with the other.'

`It's a nice place for a young man to fix his dwelling in!'\ said
I. `Have you no fear of the consequences, Mrs.\ Linton?'

`None for my friend,' she replied: `his strong head will keep him
from danger; a little for Hindley: but he can't be made morally worse
than he is; and I stand between him and bodily harm. The event of
this evening has reconciled me to God and humanity! I had risen in
angry rebellion against Providence. Oh, I've endured very, very bitter
misery, Nelly! If that creature knew how bitter, he'd be ashamed to
cloud its removal with idle petulance. It was kindness for him which
induced me to bear it alone: had I expressed the agony I frequently
felt, he would have been taught to long for its alleviation as ardently
as I.\  However, it's over, and I'll take no revenge on his folly;
I can afford to suffer anything hereafter! Should the meanest thing
alive slap me on the cheek, I'd not only turn the other, but I'd ask
pardon for provoking it; and, as a proof, I'll go make my peace with
Edgar instantly. Good-night! I'm an angel!'

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

Heathcliff---Mr.\ Heathcliff I should say in future---used the liberty
of visiting at Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first: he seemed
estimating how far its owner would bear his intrusion. Catherine,
also, deemed it judicious to moderate her expressions of pleasure
in receiving him; and he gradually established his right to be expected.
He retained a great deal of the reserve for which his boyhood was
remarkable; and that served to repress all startling demonstrations
of feeling. My master's uneasiness experienced a lull, and further
circumstances diverted it into another channel for a space.

His new source of trouble sprang from the not anticipated misfortune
of Isabella Linton evincing a sudden and irresistible attraction towards
the tolerated guest. She was at that time a charming young lady of
eighteen; infantile in manners, though possessed of keen wit, keen
feelings, and a keen temper, too, if irritated. Her brother, who loved
her tenderly, was appalled at this fantastic preference. Leaving aside
the degradation of an alliance with a nameless man, and the possible
fact that his property, in default of heirs male, might pass into
such a one's power, he had sense to comprehend Heathcliff's disposition:
to know that, though his exterior was altered, his mind was unchangeable
and unchanged. And he dreaded that mind: it revolted him: he shrank
forebodingly from the idea of committing Isabella to its keeping.
He would have recoiled still more had he been aware that her attachment
rose unsolicited, and was bestowed where it awakened no reciprocation
of sentiment; for the minute he discovered its existence he laid the
blame on Heathcliff's deliberate designing.

We had all remarked, during some time, that Miss Linton fretted and
pined over something. She grew cross and wearisome; snapping at and
teasing Catherine continually, at the imminent risk of exhausting
her limited patience. We excused her, to a certain extent, on the
plea of ill-health: she was dwindling and fading before our eyes.
But one day, when she had been peculiarly wayward, rejecting her breakfast,
complaining that the servants did not do what she told them; that
the mistress would allow her to be nothing in the house, and Edgar
neglected her; that she had caught a cold with the doors being left
open, and we let the parlour fire go out on purpose to vex her, with
a hundred yet more frivolous accusations, Mrs.\ Linton peremptorily
insisted that she should get to bed; and, having scolded her heartily,
threatened to send for the doctor. Mention of Kenneth caused her to
exclaim, instantly, that her health was perfect, and it was only Catherine's
harshness which made her unhappy.

`How can you say I am harsh, you naughty fondling?'\ cried the mistress,
amazed at the unreasonable assertion. `You are surely losing your
reason. When have I been hash, tell me?'

`Yesterday,' sobbed Isabella, `and now!'

`Yesterday!'\ said her sister-in-law. `On what occasion?'

`In our walk along the moor: you told me to ramble where I pleased,
while you sauntered on with Mr.\ Heathcliff?'

`And that's your notion of harshness?'\ said Catherine, laughing.
`It was no hint that your company was superfluous? We didn't care
whether you kept with us or not; I merely thought Heathcliff's talk
would have nothing entertaining for your ears.'

`Oh, no,' wept the young lady; `you wished me away, because you knew
I liked to be there!'

`Is she sane?'\ asked Mrs.\ Linton, appealing to me. `I'll repeat
our conversation, word for word, Isabella; and you point out any charm
it could have had for you.'

`I don't mind the conversation,' she answered: `I wanted to be with---'

{}``Well?'\ said Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete
the sentence.

`With him: and I won't be always sent off!'\ she continued, kindling
up. `You are a dog in the manger, Cathy, and desire no one to be loved
but yourself!'

`You are an impertinent little monkey!'\ exclaimed Mrs.\ Linton,
in surprise. `But I'll not believe this idiotcy! It is impossible
that you can covet the admiration of Heathcliff---that you consider
him an agreeable person! I hope I have misunderstood you, Isabella?'

`No, you have not,' said the infatuated girl. `I love him more than
ever you loved Edgar, and he might love me, if you would let him!'

`I wouldn't be you for a kingdom, then!'\ Catherine declared, emphatically:
and she seemed to speak sincerely. `Nelly, help me to convince her
of her madness. Tell her what Heathcliff is: an unreclaimed creature,
without refinement, without cultivation; an arid wilderness of furze
and whinstone. I'd as soon put that little canary into the park on
a winter's day, as recommend you to bestow your heart on him! It is
deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which
makes that dream enter your head. Pray, don't imagine that he conceals
depths of benevolence and affection beneath a stern exterior! He's
not a rough diamond---a pearl-containing oyster of a rustic: he's
a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him, {}``Let this
or that enemy alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to harm
them;'' I say, {}``Let them alone, because I should hate them to
be wronged:'' and he'd crush you like a sparrow's egg, Isabella,
if he found you a troublesome charge. I know he couldn't love a Linton;
and yet he'd be quite capable of marrying your fortune and expectations:
avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. There's my picture: and
I'm his friend---so much so, that had he thought seriously to catch
you, I should, perhaps, have held my tongue, and let you fall into
his trap.'

Miss Linton regarded her sister-in-law with indignation.

`For shame!\ for shame!'\ she repeated, angrily. `You are worse
than twenty foes, you poisonous friend!'

`Ah!\ you won't believe me, then?'\ said Catherine. `You think I
speak from wicked selfishness?'

`I'm certain you do,' retorted Isabella; `and I shudder at you!'

`Good!'\ cried the other. `Try for yourself, if that be your spirit:
I have done, and yield the argument to your saucy insolence.'---

`And I must suffer for her egotism!'\ she sobbed, as Mrs.\ Linton
left the room. `All, all is against me: she has blighted my single
consolation. But she uttered falsehoods, didn't she? Mr.\ Heathcliff
is not a fiend: he has an honourable soul, and a true one, or how
could he remember her?'

`Banish him from your thoughts, Miss,' I said. `He's a bird of bad
omen: no mate for you. Mrs.\ Linton spoke strongly, and yet I can't
contradict her. She is better acquainted with his heart than I, or
any one besides; and she never would represent him as worse than he
is. Honest people don't hide their deeds. How has he been living?
how has he got rich? why is he staying at Wuthering Heights, the house
of a man whom he abhors? They say Mr.\ Earnshaw is worse and worse
since he came. They sit up all night together continually, and Hindley
has been borrowing money on his land, and does nothing but play and
drink: I heard only a week ago---it was Joseph who told me---I met
him at Gimmerton: {}``Nelly,'' he said, {}``we's hae a crowner's
`quest enow, at ahr folks'. One on 'em 's a'most getten his finger
cut off wi' hauding t' other fro' stickin' hisseln loike a cawlf.
That's maister, yeah knaw, 'at 's soa up o' going tuh t' grand `sizes.
He's noan feared o' t' bench o' judges, norther Paul, nur Peter, nur
John, nur Matthew, nor noan on 'em, not he! He fair likes---he langs
to set his brazened face agean 'em! And yon bonny lad Heathcliff,
yah mind, he's a rare 'un. He can girn a laugh as well 's onybody
at a raight divil's jest. Does he niver say nowt of his fine living
amang us, when he goes to t' Grange? This is t' way on 't:---up at
sun-down: dice, brandy, cloised shutters, und can'le-light till next
day at noon: then, t'fooil gangs banning und raving to his cham'er,
makking dacent fowks dig thur fingers i' thur lugs fur varry shame;
un' the knave, why he can caint his brass, un' ate, un' sleep, un'
off to his neighbour's to gossip wi' t' wife. I' course, he tells
Dame Catherine how her fathur's goold runs into his pocket, and her
fathur's son gallops down t' broad road, while he flees afore to oppen
t' pikes!'' Now, Miss Linton, Joseph is an old rascal, but no liar;
and, if his account of Heathcliff's conduct be true, you would never
think of desiring such a husband, would you?'

`You are leagued with the rest, Ellen!'\ she replied. `I'll not listen
to your slanders. What malevolence you must have to wish to convince
me that there is no happiness in the world!'

Whether she would have got over this fancy if left to herself, or
persevered in nursing it perpetually, I cannot say: she had little
time to reflect. The day after, there was a justice-meeting at the
next town; my master was obliged to attend; and Mr.\ Heathcliff,
aware of his absence, called rather earlier than usual. Catherine
and Isabella were sitting in the library, on hostile terms, but silent:
the latter alarmed at her recent indiscretion, and the disclosure
she had made of her secret feelings in a transient fit of passion;
the former, on mature consideration, really offended with her companion;
and, if she laughed again at her pertness, inclined to make it no
laughing matter to her. She did laugh as she saw Heathcliff pass the
window. I was sweeping the hearth, and I noticed a mischievous smile
on her lips. Isabella, absorbed in her meditations, or a book, remained
till the door opened; and it was too late to attempt an escape, which
she would gladly have done had it been practicable.

`Come in, that's right!'\ exclaimed the mistress, gaily, pulling
a chair to the fire. `Here are two people sadly in need of a third
to thaw the ice between them; and you are the very one we should both
of us choose. Heathcliff, I'm proud to show you, at last, somebody
that dotes on you more than myself. I expect you to feel flattered.
Nay, it's not Nelly; don't look at her! My poor little sister-in-law
is breaking her heart by mere contemplation of your physical and moral
beauty. It lies in your own power to be Edgar's brother! No, no, Isabella,
you sha'n't run off,' she continued, arresting, with feigned playfulness,
the confounded girl, who had risen indignantly. `We were quarrelling
like cats about you, Heathcliff; and I was fairly beaten in protestations
of devotion and admiration: and, moreover, I was informed that if
I would but have the manners to stand aside, my rival, as she will
have herself to be, would shoot a shaft into your soul that would
fix you for ever, and send my image into eternal oblivion!'

`Catherine!'\ said Isabella, calling up her dignity, and disdaining
to struggle from the tight grasp that held her, `I'd thank you to
adhere to the truth and not slander me, even in joke! Mr.\ Heathcliff,
be kind enough to bid this friend of yours release me: she forgets
that you and I are not intimate acquaintances; and what amuses her
is painful to me beyond expression.'

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

`By no means!'\ cried Mrs.\ Linton in answer. `I won't be named
a dog in the manger again. You \textit{shall} stay: now then! Heathcliff,
why don't you evince satisfaction at my pleasant news? Isabella swears
that the love Edgar has for me is nothing to that she entertains for
you. I'm sure she made some speech of the kind; did she not, Ellen?
And she has fasted ever since the day before yesterday's walk, from
sorrow and rage that I despatched her out of your society under the
idea of its being unacceptable.'

`I think you belie her,' said Heathcliff, twisting his chair to face
them. `She wishes to be out of my society now, at any rate!'

And he stared hard at the object of discourse, as one might do at
a strange repulsive animal: a centipede from the Indies, for instance,
which curiosity leads one to examine in spite of the aversion it raises.
The poor thing couldn't bear that; she grew white and red in rapid
succession, and, while tears beaded her lashes, bent the strength
of her small fingers to loosen the firm clutch of Catherine; and perceiving
that as fast as she raised one finger off her arm another closed down,
and she could not remove the whole together, she began to make use
of her nails; and their sharpness presently ornamented the detainer's
with crescents of red.

`There's a tigress!'\ exclaimed Mrs.\ Linton, setting her free,
and shaking her hand with pain. `Begone, for God's sake, and hide
your vixen face! How foolish to reveal those talons to him. Can't
you fancy the conclusions he'll draw? Look, Heathcliff!\ they are
instruments that will do execution---you must beware of your eyes.'

`I'd wrench them off her fingers, if they ever menaced me,' he answered,
brutally, when the door had closed after her. `But what did you mean
by teasing the creature in that manner, Cathy? You were not speaking
the truth, were you?'

`I assure you I was,' she returned. `She has been dying for your sake
several weeks, and raving about you this morning, and pouring forth
a deluge of abuse, because I represented your failings in a plain
light, for the purpose of mitigating her adoration. But don't notice
it further: I wished to punish her sauciness, that's all. I like her
too well, my dear Heathcliff, to let you absolutely seize and devour
her up.'

`And I like her too ill to attempt it,' said he, `except in a very
ghoulish fashion. You'd hear of odd things if I lived alone with that
mawkish, waxen face: the most ordinary would be painting on its white
the colours of the rainbow, and turning the blue eyes black, every
day or two: they detestably resemble Linton's.'

`Delectably!'\ observed Catherine. `They are dove's eyes---angel's!'

`She's her brother's heir, is she not?'\ he asked, after a brief
silence.

`I should be sorry to think so,' returned his companion. `Half a dozen
nephews shall erase her title, please heaven! Abstract your mind from
the subject at present: you are too prone to covet your neighbour's
goods; remember \textit{this} neighbour's goods are mine.'

`If they were \textit{mine}, they would be none the less that,' said
Heathcliff; `but though Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcely
mad; and, in short, we'll dismiss the matter, as you advise.'

From their tongues they did dismiss it; and Catherine, probably, from
her thoughts. The other, I felt certain, recalled it often in the
course of the evening. I saw him smile to himself---grin rather---and
lapse into ominous musing whenever Mrs.\ Linton had occasion to be
absent from the apartment.

I determined to watch his movements. My heart invariably cleaved to
the master's, in preference to Catherine's side: with reason I imagined,
for he was kind, and trustful, and honourable; and she---she could
not be called \textit{opposite}, yet she seemed to allow herself such
wide latitude, that I had little faith in her principles, and still
less sympathy for her feelings. I wanted something to happen which
might have the effect of freeing both Wuthering Heights and the Grange
of Mr.\ Heathcliff quietly; leaving us as we had been prior to his
advent. His visits were a continual nightmare to me; and, I suspected,
to my master also. His abode at the Heights was an oppression past
explaining. I felt that God had forsaken the stray sheep there to
its own wicked wanderings, and an evil beast prowled between it and
the fold, waiting his time to spring and destroy.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XI}

Sometimes, while meditating on these things in solitude, I've got
up in a sudden terror, and put on my bonnet to go see how all was
at the farm. I've persuaded my conscience that it was a duty to warn
him how people talked regarding his ways; and then I've recollected
his confirmed bad habits, and, hopeless of benefiting him, have flinched
from re-entering the dismal house, doubting if I could bear to be
taken at my word.

One time I passed the old gate, going out of my way, on a journey
to Gimmerton. It was about the period that my narrative has reached:
a bright frosty afternoon; the ground bare, and the road hard and
dry. I came to a stone where the highway branches off on to the moor
at your left hand; a rough sand-pillar, with the letters W.\ H.\ cut
on its north side, on the east, G., and on the south-west, T.\ G.\ 
It serves as a guide-post to the Grange, the Heights, and village.
The sun shone yellow on its grey head, reminding me of summer; and
I cannot say why, but all at once a gush of child's sensations flowed
into my heart. Hindley and I held it a favourite spot twenty years
before. I gazed long at the weather-worn block; and, stooping down,
perceived a hole near the bottom still full of snail-shells and pebbles,
which we were fond of storing there with more perishable things; and,
as fresh as reality, it appeared that I beheld my early playmate seated
on the withered turf: his dark, square head bent forward, and his
little hand scooping out the earth with a piece of slate. `Poor Hindley!'\ I
exclaimed, involuntarily. I started: my bodily eye was cheated into
a momentary belief that the child lifted its face and stared straight
into mine! It vanished in a twinkling; but immediately I felt an irresistible
yearning to be at the Heights. Superstition urged me to comply with
this impulse: supposing he should be dead! I thought---or should die
soon!---supposing it were a sign of death! The nearer I got to the
house the more agitated I grew; and on catching sight of it I trembled
in every limb. The apparition had outstripped me: it stood looking
through the gate. That was my first idea on observing an elf-locked,
brown-eyed boy setting his ruddy countenance against the bars. Further
reflection suggested this must be Hareton, \textit{my} Hareton, not
altered greatly since I left him, ten months since.

`God bless thee, darling!'\ I cried, forgetting instantaneously my
foolish fears. `Hareton, it's Nelly! Nelly, thy nurse.'

He retreated out of arm's length, and picked up a large flint.

`I am come to see thy father, Hareton,' I added, guessing from the
action that Nelly, if she lived in his memory at all, was not recognised
as one with me.

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

`Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?'\ I inquired. `The
curate?'

`Damn the curate, and thee! Gie me that,' he replied.

`Tell us where you got your lessons, and you shall have it,' said
I. `Who's your master?'

`Devil daddy,' was his answer.

`And what do you learn from daddy?'\ I continued.

He jumped at the fruit; I raised it higher. `What does he teach you?'
I asked.

`Naught,' said he, `but to keep out of his gait. Daddy cannot bide
me, because I swear at him.'

`Ah!\ and the devil teaches you to swear at daddy?'\ I observed.

`Ay---nay,' he drawled.

`Who, then?'

`Heathcliff.'

`I asked if he liked Mr.\ Heathcliff.'

`Ay!'\ he answered again.

Desiring to have his reasons for liking him, I could only gather the
sentences---`I known't: he pays dad back what he gies to me---he curses
daddy for cursing me. He says I mun do as I will.'

`And the curate does not teach you to read and write, then?'\ I pursued.

`No, I was told the curate should have his---teeth dashed down his---throat,
if he stepped over the threshold---Heathcliff had promised that!'

I put the orange in his hand, and bade him tell his father that a
woman called Nelly Dean was waiting to speak with him, by the garden
gate. He went up the walk, and entered the house; but, instead of
Hindley, Heathcliff appeared on the door-stones; and I turned directly
and ran down the road as hard as ever I could race, making no halt
till I gained the guide-post, and feeling as scared as if I had raised
a goblin. This is not much connected with Miss Isabella's affair:
except that it urged me to resolve further on mounting vigilant guard,
and doing my utmost to cheek the spread of such bad influence at the
Grange: even though I should wake a domestic storm, by thwarting Mrs.\ Linton's
pleasure.

The next time Heathcliff came my young lady chanced to be feeding
some pigeons in the court. She had never spoken a word to her sister-in-law
for three days; but she had likewise dropped her fretful complaining,
and we found it a great comfort. Heathcliff had not the habit of bestowing
a single unnecessary civility on Miss Linton, I knew. Now, as soon
as he beheld her, his first precaution was to take a sweeping survey
of the house-front. I was standing by the kitchen-window, but I drew
out of sight. He then stepped across the pavement to her, and said
something: she seemed embarrassed, and desirous of getting away; to
prevent it, he laid his hand on her arm. She averted her face: he
apparently put some question which she had no mind to answer. There
was another rapid glance at the house, and supposing himself unseen,
the scoundrel had the impudence to embrace her.

`Judas! Traitor!'\ I ejaculated. `You are a hypocrite, too, are you?
A deliberate deceiver.'

`Who is, Nelly?'\ said Catherine's voice at my elbow: I had been
over-intent on watching the pair outside to mark her entrance.

`Your worthless friend!'\ I answered, warmly: `the sneaking rascal
yonder. Ah, he has caught a glimpse of us---he is coming in! I wonder
will he have the heart to find a plausible excuse for making love
to Miss, when he told you he hated her?'

Mrs.\ Linton saw Isabella tear herself free, and run into the garden;
and a minute after, Heathcliff opened the door. I couldn't withhold
giving some loose to my indignation; but Catherine angrily insisted
on silence, and threatened to order me out of the kitchen, if I dared
to be so presumptuous as to put in my insolent tongue.

`To hear you, people might think you were the mistress!'\ she cried.
`You want setting down in your right place! Heathcliff, what are you
about, raising this stir? I said you must let Isabella alone!---I
beg you will, unless you are tired of being received here, and wish
Linton to draw the bolts against you!'

`God forbid that he should try!'\ answered the black villain. I detested
him just then. `God keep him meek and patient! Every day I grow madder
after sending him to heaven!'

`Hush!'\ said Catherine, shutting the inner door! `Don't vex me.
Why have you disregarded my request? Did she come across you on purpose?'

`What is it to you?'\ he growled. `I have a right to kiss her, if
she chooses; and you have no right to object. I am not \textit{your}
husband: \textit{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't scowl at me! If you like Isabella, you
shall marry her. But do you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff!
There, you won't answer. I'm certain you don't.'

`And would Mr.\ Linton approve of his sister marrying that man?'
I inquired.

`Mr.\ Linton should approve,' returned my lady, decisively.

`He might spare himself the trouble,' said Heathcliff: `I could do
as well without his approbation. And as to you, Catherine, I have
a mind to speak a few words now, while we are at it. I want you to
be aware that I \textit{know} you have treated me infernally---infernally!
Do you hear? And if you flatter yourself that I don't perceive it,
you are a fool; and if you think I can be consoled by sweet words,
you are an idiot: and if you fancy I'll suffer unrevenged, I'll convince
you of the contrary, in a very little while! Meantime, thank you for
telling me your sister-in-law's secret: I swear I'll make the most
of it. And stand you aside!'

`What new phase of his character is this?'\ exclaimed Mrs.\ Linton,
in amazement. `I've treated you infernally---and you'll take your
revenge! How will you take it, ungrateful brute? How have I treated
you infernally?'

`I seek no revenge on you,' replied Heathcliff, less vehemently. `That's
not the plan. The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn
against him; they crush those beneath them. You are welcome to torture
me to death for your amusement, only allow me to amuse myself a little
in the same style, and refrain from insult as much as you are able.
Having levelled my palace, don't erect a hovel and complacently admire
your own charity in giving me that for a home. If I imagined you really
wished me to marry Isabel, I'd cut my throat!'

`Oh, the evil is that I am \textit{not} jealous, is it?'\ cried Catherine.
`Well, I won't repeat my offer of a wife: it is as bad as offering
Satan a lost soul. Your bliss lies, like his, in inflicting misery.
You prove it. Edgar is restored from the ill-temper he gave way to
at your coming; I begin to be secure and tranquil; and you, restless
to know us at peace, appear resolved on exciting a quarrel. Quarrel
with Edgar, if you please, Heathcliff, and deceive his sister: you'll
hit on exactly the most efficient method of revenging yourself on
me.'

The conversation ceased. Mrs.\ Linton sat down by the fire, flushed
and gloomy. The spirit which served her was growing intractable: she
could neither lay nor control it. He stood on the hearth with folded
arms, brooding on his evil thoughts; and in this position I left them
to seek the master, who was wondering what kept Catherine below so
long.

`Ellen,' said he, when I entered, `have you seen your mistress?'

`Yes; she's in the kitchen, sir,' I answered. `She's sadly put out
by Mr.\ Heathcliff's behaviour: and, indeed, I do think it's time
to arrange his visits on another footing. There's harm in being too
soft, and now it's come to this---.' And I related the scene in the
court, and, as near as I dared, the whole subsequent dispute. I fancied
it could not be very prejudicial to Mrs.\ Linton; unless she made
it so afterwards, by assuming the defensive for her guest. Edgar Linton
had difficulty in hearing me to the close. His first words revealed
that he did not clear his wife of blame.

`This is insufferable!'\ he exclaimed. `It is disgraceful that she
should own him for a friend, and force his company on me! Call me
two men out of the hall, Ellen. Catherine shall linger no longer to
argue with the low ruffian---I have humoured her enough.'

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

`How is this?'\ said Linton, addressing her; `what notion of propriety
must you have to remain here, after the language which has been held
to you by that blackguard? I suppose, because it is his ordinary talk
you think nothing of it: you are habituated to his baseness, and,
perhaps, imagine I can get used to it too!'

`Have you been listening at the door, Edgar?'\ asked the mistress,
in a tone particularly calculated to provoke her husband, implying
both carelessness and contempt of his irritation. Heathcliff, who
had raised his eyes at the former speech, gave a sneering laugh at
the latter; on purpose, it seemed, to draw Mr.\ Linton's attention
to him. He succeeded; but Edgar did not mean to entertain him with
any high flights of passion.

`I've been so far forbearing with you, sir,' he said quietly; `not
that I was ignorant of your miserable, degraded character, but I felt
you were only partly responsible for that; and Catherine wishing to
keep up your acquaintance, I acquiesced---foolishly. Your presence
is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous: for that
cause, and to prevent worse consequences, I shall deny you hereafter
admission into this house, and give notice now that I require your
instant departure. Three minutes' delay will render it involuntary
and ignominious.

Heathcliff measured the height and breadth of the speaker with an
eye full of derision.

`Cathy, this lamb of yours threatens like a bull!'\ he said. `It
is in danger of splitting its skull against my knuckles. By God! Mr.\ Linton,
I'm mortally sorry that you are not worth knocking down!'

My master glanced towards the passage, and signed me to fetch the
men: he had no intention of hazarding a personal encounter. I obeyed
the hint; but Mrs.\ Linton, suspecting something, followed; and when
I attempted to call them, she pulled me back, slammed the door to,
and locked it.

`Fair means!'\ she said, in answer to her husband's look of angry
surprise. `If you have not courage to attack him, make an apology,
or allow yourself to be beaten. It will correct you of feigning more
valour than you possess. No, I'll swallow the key before you shall
get it! I'm delightfully rewarded for my kindness to each! After constant
indulgence of one's weak nature, and the other's bad one, I earn for
thanks two samples of blind ingratitude, stupid to absurdity! Edgar,
I was defending you and yours; and I wish Heathcliff may flog you
sick, for daring to think an evil thought of me!'

It did not need the medium of a flogging to produce that effect on
the master. He tried to wrest the key from Catherine's grasp, and
for safety she flung it into the hottest part of the fire; whereupon
Mr.\ Edgar was taken with a nervous trembling, and his countenance
grew deadly pale. For his life he could not avert that excess of emotion:
mingled anguish and humiliation overcame him completely. He leant
on the back of a chair, and covered his face.

`Oh, heavens! In old days this would win you knighthood!'\ exclaimed
Mrs.\ Linton. `We are vanquished!\ we are vanquished! Heathcliff
would as soon lift a finger at you as the king would march his army
against a colony of mice. 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 her friend.
`I compliment you on your taste. And that is the slavering, shivering
thing you preferred to me! I would not strike him with my fist, but
I'd kick him with my foot, and experience considerable satisfaction.
Is he weeping, or is he going to faint for fear?'

The fellow approached and gave the chair on which Linton rested a
push. He'd better have kept his distance: my master quickly sprang
erect, and struck him full on the throat a blow that would have levelled
a slighter man. It took his breath for a minute; and while he choked,
Mr.\ Linton walked out by the back door into the yard, and from thence
to the front entrance.

`There!\ you've done with coming here,' cried Catherine. `Get away,
now; he'll return with a brace of pistols and half-a-dozen assistants.
If he did overhear us, of course he'd never forgive you. You've played
me an ill turn, Heathcliff! But go---make haste! I'd rather see Edgar
at bay than you.'

`Do you suppose I'm going with that blow burning in my gullet?'\ he
thundered. `By hell, no! I'll crush his ribs in like a rotten hazel-nut
before I cross the threshold! If I don't floor him now, I shall murder
him some time; so, as you value his existence, let me get at him!'

`He is not coming,' I interposed, framing a bit of a lie. `There's
the coachman and the two gardeners; you'll surely not wait to be thrust
into the road by them! Each has a bludgeon; and master will, very
likely, be watching from the parlour-windows to see that they fulfil
his orders.'

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

Mrs.\ Linton, who was very much excited, bade me accompany her up-stairs.
She did not know my share in contributing to the disturbance, and
I was anxious to keep her in ignorance.

`I'm nearly distracted, Nelly!'\ she exclaimed, throwing herself
on the sofa. `A thousand smiths' hammers are beating in my head! Tell
Isabella to shun me; this uproar is owing to her; and should she or
any one else aggravate my anger at present, I shall get wild. And,
Nelly, say to Edgar, if you see him again to-night, that I'm in danger
of being seriously ill. I wish it may prove true. He has startled
and distressed me shockingly! I want to frighten him. Besides, he
might come and begin a string of abuse or complainings; I'm certain
I should recriminate, and God knows where we should end! Will you
do so, my good Nelly? You are aware that I am no way blamable in this
matter. What possessed him to turn listener? Heathcliff's talk was
outrageous, after you left us; but I could soon have diverted him
from Isabella, and the rest meant nothing. Now all is dashed wrong;
by the fool's craving to hear evil of self, that haunts some people
like a demon! Had Edgar never gathered our conversation, he would
never have been the worse for it. Really, when he opened on me in
that unreasonable tone of displeasure after I had scolded Heathcliff
till I was hoarse for him, I did not care hardly what they did to
each other; especially as I felt that, however the scene closed, we
should all be driven asunder for nobody knows how long! Well, if I
cannot keep Heathcliff for my friend---if Edgar will be mean and jealous,
I'll try to break their hearts by breaking my own. That will be a
prompt way of finishing all, when I am pushed to extremity! But it's
a deed to be reserved for a forlorn hope; I'd not take Linton by surprise
with it. To this point he has been discreet in dreading to provoke
me; you must represent the peril of quitting that policy, and remind
him of my passionate temper, verging, when kindled, on frenzy. I wish
you could dismiss that apathy out of that countenance, and look rather
more anxious about me.'

The stolidity with which I received these instructions was, no doubt,
rather exasperating: for they were delivered in perfect sincerity;
but I believed a person who could plan the turning of her fits of
passion to account, beforehand, might, by exerting her will, manage
to control herself tolerably, even while under their influence; and
I did not wish to `frighten' her husband, as she said, and multiply
his annoyances for the purpose of serving her selfishness. Therefore
I said nothing when I met the master coming towards the parlour; but
I took the liberty of turning back to listen whether they would resume
their quarrel together. He began to speak first.

`Remain where you are, Catherine,' he said; without any anger in his
voice, but with much sorrowful despondency. `I shall not stay. I am
neither come to wrangle nor be reconciled; but I wish just to learn
whether, after this evening's events, you intend to continue your
intimacy with---'

`Oh, for mercy's sake,' interrupted the mistress, stamping her foot,
`for mercy's sake, let us hear no more of it now! Your cold blood
cannot be worked into a fever: your veins are full of ice-water; but
mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.'

`To get rid of me, answer my question,' persevered Mr.\ Linton. `You
must answer it; and that violence does not alarm me. I have found
that you can be as stoical as anyone, when you please. Will you give
up Heathcliff hereafter, or will you give up me? It is impossible
for you to be \textit{my} friend and \textit{his} at the same time;
and I absolutely \textit{require} to know which you choose.'

`I require to be let alone?'\ exclaimed Catherine, furiously. `I
demand it! Don't you see I can scarcely stand? Edgar, you---you leave
me!'

She rang the bell till it broke with a twang; I entered leisurely.
It was enough to try the temper of a saint, such senseless, wicked
rages! There she lay dashing her head against the arm of the sofa,
and grinding her teeth, so that you might fancy she would crash them
to splinters! Mr.\ Linton stood looking at her in sudden compunction
and fear. He told me to fetch some water. She had no breath for speaking.
I brought a glass full; and as she would not drink, I sprinkled it
on her face. In a few seconds she stretched herself out stiff, and
turned up her eyes, while her cheeks, at once blanched and livid,
assumed the aspect of death. Linton looked terrified.

`There is nothing in the world the matter,' I whispered. I did not
want him to yield, though I could not help being afraid in my heart.

`She has blood on her lips!'\ he said, shuddering.

`Never mind!'\ I answered, tartly. And I told him how she had resolved,
previous to his coming, on exhibiting a fit of frenzy. I incautiously
gave the account aloud, and she heard me; for she started up---her
hair flying over her shoulders, her eyes flashing, the muscles of
her neck and arms standing out preternaturally. I made up my mind
for broken bones, at least; but she only glared about her for an instant,
and then rushed from the room. The master directed me to follow; I
did, to her chamber-door: she hindered me from going further by securing
it against me.

As she never offered to descend to breakfast next morning, I went
to ask whether she would have some carried up. `No!'\ she replied,
peremptorily. The same question was repeated at dinner and tea; and
again on the morrow after, and received the same answer. Mr.\ Linton,
on his part, spent his time in the library, and did not inquire concerning
his wife's occupations. Isabella and he had had an hour's interview,
during which he tried to elicit from her some sentiment of proper
horror for Heathcliff's advances: but he could make nothing of her
evasive replies, and was obliged to close the examination unsatisfactorily;
adding, however, a solemn warning, that if she were so insane as to
encourage that worthless suitor, it would dissolve all bonds of relationship
between herself and him.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XII}

While Miss Linton moped about the park and garden, always silent,
and almost always in tears; and her brother shut himself up among
books that he never opened---wearying, I guessed, with a continual
vague expectation that Catherine, repenting her conduct, would come
of her own accord to ask pardon, and seek a reconciliation---and \textit{she}
fasted pertinaciously, under the idea, probably, that at every meal
Edgar was ready to choke for her absence, and pride alone held him
from running to cast himself at her feet; I went about my household
duties, convinced that the Grange had but one sensible soul in its
walls, and that lodged in my body. I wasted no condolences on Miss,
nor any expostulations on my mistress; nor did I pay much attention
to the sighs of my master, who yearned to hear his lady's name, since
he might not hear her voice. I determined they should come about as
they pleased for me; and though it was a tiresomely slow process,
I began to rejoice at length in a faint dawn of its progress: as I
thought at first.

Mrs.\ Linton, on the third day, unbarred her door, and having finished
the water in her pitcher and decanter, desired a renewed supply, and
a basin of gruel, for she believed she was dying. That I set down
as a speech meant for Edgar's ears; I believed no such thing, so I
kept it to myself and brought her some tea and dry toast. She ate
and drank eagerly, and sank back on her pillow again, clenching her
hands and groaning. `Oh, I will die,' she exclaimed, `since no one
cares anything about me. I wish I had not taken that.' Then a good
while after I heard her murmur, `No, I'll not die---he'd be glad---he
does not love me at all---he would never miss me!'

`Did you want anything, ma'am?'\ I inquired, still preserving my
external composure, in spite of her ghastly countenance and strange,
exaggerated manner.

`What is that apathetic being doing?'\ she demanded, pushing the
thick entangled locks from her wasted face. `Has he fallen into a
lethargy, or is he dead?'

`Neither,' replied I; `if you mean Mr.\ Linton. He's tolerably well,
I think, though his studies occupy him rather more than they ought:
he is continually among his books, since he has no other society.'

I should not have spoken so if I had known her true condition, but
I could not get rid of the notion that she acted a part of her disorder.

`Among his books!'\ she cried, confounded. `And I dying! I on the
brink of the grave! My God!\ does he know how I'm altered?'\ continued
she, staring at her reflection in a mirror hanging against the opposite
wall. `Is that Catherine Linton? He imagines me in a pet---in play,
perhaps. Cannot you inform him that it is frightful earnest? Nelly,
if it be not too late, as soon as I learn how he feels, I'll choose
between these two: either to starve at once---that would be no punishment
unless he had a heart---or to recover, and leave the country. Are
you speaking the truth about him now? Take care. Is he actually so
utterly indifferent for my life?'

`Why, ma'am,' I answered, `the master has no idea of your being deranged;
and of course he does not fear that you will let yourself die of hunger.'

`You think not? Cannot you tell him I will?'\ she returned. `Persuade
him!\ speak of your own mind: say you are certain I will!'

`No, you forget, Mrs.\ Linton,' I suggested, `that you have eaten
some food with a relish this evening, and to-morrow you will perceive
its good effects.'

`If I were only sure it would kill him,' she interrupted, `I'd kill
myself directly! These three awful nights I've never closed my lids---and
oh, I've been tormented! I've been haunted, Nelly! But I begin to
fancy you don't like me. How strange! I thought, though everybody
hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me. And
they have all turned to enemies in a few hours: they have, I'm positive;
the people here. How dreary to meet death, surrounded by their cold
faces! Isabella, terrified and repelled, afraid to enter the room,
it would be so dreadful to watch Catherine go. And Edgar standing
solemnly by to see it over; then offering prayers of thanks to God
for restoring peace to his house, and going back to his \textit{books}!
What in the name of all that feels has he to do with \textit{books},
when I am dying?'

She could not bear the notion which I had put into her head of Mr.\ Linton's
philosophical resignation. Tossing about, she increased her feverish
bewilderment to madness, and tore the pillow with her teeth; then
raising herself up all burning, desired that I would open the window.
We were in the middle of winter, the wind blew strong from the north-east,
and I objected. Both the expressions flitting over her face, and the
changes of her moods, began to alarm me terribly; and brought to my
recollection her former illness, and the doctor's injunction that
she should not be crossed. A minute previously she was violent; now,
supported on one arm, and not noticing my refusal to obey her, she
seemed to find childish diversion in pulling the feathers from the
rents she had just made, and ranging them on the sheet according to
their different species: her mind had strayed to other associations.

`That's a turkey's,' she murmured to herself; `and this is a wild
duck's; and this is a pigeon's. Ah, they put pigeons' feathers in
the pillows---no wonder I couldn't die! Let me take care to throw
it on the floor when I lie down. And here is a moor-cock's; and this---I
should know it among a thousand---it's a lapwing's. Bonny bird; wheeling
over our heads in the middle of the moor. It wanted to get to its
nest, for the clouds had touched the swells, and it felt rain coming.
This feather was picked up from the heath, the bird was not shot:
we saw its nest in the winter, full of little skeletons. Heathcliff
set a trap over it, and the old ones dared not come. I made him promise
he'd never shoot a lapwing after that, and he didn't. Yes, here are
more! Did he shoot my lapwings, Nelly? Are they red, any of them?
Let me look.'

`Give over with that baby-work!'\ I interrupted, dragging the pillow
away, and turning the holes towards the mattress, for she was removing
its contents by handfuls. `Lie down and shut your eyes: you're wandering.
There's a mess! The down is flying about like snow.'

I went here and there collecting it.

`I see in you, Nelly,' she continued dreamily, `an aged woman: you
have grey hair and bent shoulders. This bed is the fairy cave under
Penistone crags, and you are gathering elf-bolts to hurt our heifers;
pretending, while I am near, that they are only locks of wool. That's
what you'll come to fifty years hence: I know you are not so now.
I'm not wandering: you're mistaken, or else I should believe you really
\textit{were} that withered hag, and I should think I \textit{was}
under Penistone Crags; and I'm conscious it's night, and there are
two candles on the table making the black press shine like jet.'

`The black press? where is that?'\ I asked. `You are talking in your
sleep!'

`It's against the wall, as it always is,' she replied. `It \textit{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 \textit{you} see that face?'\ she inquired, gazing earnestly
at the mirror.

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

`It's behind there still!'\ she pursued, anxiously. `And it stirred.
Who is it? I hope it will not come out when you are gone! Oh! Nelly,
the room is haunted! I'm afraid of being alone!'

I took her hand in mine, and bid her be composed; for a succession
of shudders convulsed her frame, and she would keep straining her
gaze towards the glass.

`There's nobody here!'\ I insisted. `It was \textit{yourself}, Mrs.\ Linton:
you knew it a while since.'

`Myself!'\ she gasped, `and the clock is striking twelve! It's true,
then!\ that's dreadful!'

Her fingers clutched the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes.
I attempted to steal to the door with an intention of calling her
husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing shriek---the shawl
had dropped from the frame.

`Why, what is the matter?'\ cried I. `Who is coward now? Wake up!
That is the glass---the mirror, Mrs.\ Linton; and you see yourself
in it, and there am I too by your side.'

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

`Oh, dear! I thought I was at home,' she sighed. `I thought I was
lying in my chamber at Wuthering Heights. Because I'm weak, my brain
got confused, and I screamed unconsciously. Don't say anything; but
stay with me. I dread sleeping: my dreams appal me.'

`A sound sleep would do you good, ma'am,' I answered: `and I hope
this suffering will prevent your trying starving again.'

`Oh, if I were but in my own bed in the old house!'\ she went on
bitterly, wringing her hands. `And that wind sounding in the firs
by the lattice. Do let me feel it---it comes straight down the moor---do
let me have one breath!' To pacify her I held the casement ajar a
few seconds. A cold blast rushed through; I closed it, and returned
to my post. She lay still now, her face bathed in tears. Exhaustion
of body had entirely subdued her spirit: our fiery Catherine was no
better than a wailing child.

`How long is it since I shut myself in here?'\ she asked, suddenly
reviving.

`It was Monday evening,' I replied, `and this is Thursday night, or
rather Friday morning, at present.'

`What!\ of the same week?'\ she exclaimed. `Only that brief time?'

`Long enough to live on nothing but cold water and ill-temper,' observed
I.

`Well, it seems a weary number of hours,' she muttered doubtfully:
`it must be more. I remember being in the parlour after they had quarrelled,
and Edgar being cruelly provoking, and me running into this room desperate.
As soon as ever I had barred the door, utter blackness overwhelmed
me, and I fell on the floor. I couldn't explain to Edgar how certain
I felt of having a fit, or going raging mad, if he persisted in teasing
me! I had no command of tongue, or brain, and he did not guess my
agony, perhaps: it barely left me sense to try to escape from him
and his voice. Before I recovered sufficiently to see and hear, it
began to be dawn, and, Nelly, I'll tell you what I thought, and what
has kept recurring and recurring till I feared for my reason. I thought
as I lay there, with my head against that table leg, and my eyes dimly
discerning the grey square of the window, that I was enclosed in the
oak-panelled bed at home; and my heart ached with some great grief
which, just waking, I could not recollect. I pondered, and worried
myself to discover what it could be, and, most strangely, the whole
last seven years of my life grew a blank! I did not recall that they
had been at all. I was a child; my father was just buried, and my
misery arose from the separation that Hindley had ordered between
me and Heathcliff. I was laid alone, for the first time; and, rousing
from a dismal doze after a night of weeping, I lifted my hand to push
the panels aside: it struck the table-top! I swept it along the carpet,
and then memory burst in: my late anguish was swallowed in a paroxysm
of despair. I cannot say why I felt so wildly wretched: it must have
been temporary derangement; for there is scarcely cause. But, supposing
at twelve years old I had been wrenched from the Heights, and every
early association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time,
and been converted at a stroke into Mrs.\ Linton, the lady of Thrushcross
Grange, and the wife of a stranger: an exile, and outcast, thenceforth,
from what had been my world. You may fancy a glimpse of the abyss
where I grovelled! Shake your head as you will, Nelly, you have helped
to unsettle me! You should have spoken to Edgar, indeed you should,
and compelled him to leave me quiet! Oh, I'm burning! I wish I were
out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and
free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I
so changed? why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few
words? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on
those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open! Quick, why
don't you move?'

`Because I won't give you your death of cold,' I answered.

`You won't give me a chance of life, you mean,' she said, sullenly.
`However, I'm not helpless yet; I'll open it myself.'

And sliding from the bed before I could hinder her, she crossed the
room, walking very uncertainly, threw it back, and bent out, careless
of the frosty air that cut about her shoulders as keen as a knife.
I entreated, and finally attempted to force her to retire. But I soon
found her delirious strength much surpassed mine (she was delirious,
I became convinced by her subsequent actions and ravings). There was
no moon, and everything beneath lay in misty darkness: not a light
gleamed from any house, far or near all had been extinguished long
ago: and those at Wuthering Heights were never visible---still she
asserted she caught their shining.

`Look!'\ she cried eagerly, `that's my room with the candle in it,
and the trees swaying before it; and the other candle is in Joseph's
garret. Joseph sits up late, doesn't he? He's waiting till I come
home that he may lock the gate. Well, he'll wait a while yet. It's
a rough journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and we must pass by
Gimmerton Kirk to go that journey! We've braved its ghosts often together,
and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to come.
But, Heathcliff, if I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I'll
keep you. I'll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet
deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won't rest till you
are with me. I never will!'

She paused, and resumed with a strange smile. `He's considering---he'd
rather I'd come to him! Find a way, then!\ not through that kirkyard.
You are slow! Be content, you always followed me!'

Perceiving it vain to argue against her insanity, I was planning how
I could reach something to wrap about her, without quitting my hold
of herself (for I could not trust her alone by the gaping lattice),
when, to my consternation, I heard the rattle of the door-handle,
and Mr.\ Linton entered. He had only then come from the library;
and, in passing through the lobby, had noticed our talking and been
attracted by curiosity, or fear, to examine what it signified, at
that late hour.

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

`Catherine ill?'\ he said, hastening to us. `Shut the window, Ellen!
Catherine!\ why---'

He was silent. The haggardness of Mrs.\ Linton's appearance smote
him speechless, and he could only glance from her to me in horrified
astonishment.

`She's been fretting here,' I continued, `and eating scarcely anything,
and never complaining: she would admit none of us till this evening,
and so we couldn't inform you of her state, as we were not aware of
it ourselves; but it is nothing.'

I felt I uttered my explanations awkwardly; the master frowned. `It
is nothing, is it, Ellen Dean?'\ he said sternly. `You shall account
more clearly for keeping me ignorant of this!' And he took his wife
in his arms, and looked at her with anguish.

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

`Ah!\ you are come, are you, Edgar Linton?'\ she said, with angry
animation. `You are one of those things that are ever found when least
wanted, and when you are wanted, never! I suppose we shall have plenty
of lamentations now---I see we shall---but they can't keep me from
my narrow home out yonder: my resting-place, where I'm bound before
spring is over! There it is: not among the Lintons, mind, under the
chapel-roof, but in the open air, with a head-stone; and you may please
yourself whether you go to them or come to me!'

`Catherine, what have you done?'\ commenced the master. `Am I nothing
to you any more? Do you love that wretch Heath---'

`Hush!'\ cried Mrs.\ Linton. `Hush, this moment! You mention that
name and I end the matter instantly by a spring from the window! What
you touch at present you may have; but my soul will be on that hill-top
before you lay hands on me again. I don't want you, Edgar: I'm past
wanting you. Return to your books. I'm glad you possess a consolation,
for all you had in me is gone.'

`Her mind wanders, sir,' I interposed. `She has been talking nonsense
the whole evening; but let her have quiet, and proper attendance,
and she'll rally. Hereafter, we must be cautious how we vex her.'

`I desire no further advice from you,' answered Mr.\ Linton. `You
knew your mistress's nature, and you encouraged me to harass her.
And not to give me one hint of how she has been these three days!
It was heartless! Months of sickness could not cause such a change!'

I began to defend myself, thinking it too bad to be blamed for another's
wicked waywardness. `I knew Mrs.\ Linton's nature to be headstrong
and domineering,' cried I: `but I didn't know that you wished to foster
her fierce temper! I didn't know that, to humour her, I should wink
at Mr.\ Heathcliff. I performed the duty of a faithful servant in
telling you, and I have got a faithful servant's wages! Well, it will
teach me to be careful next time. Next time you may gather intelligence
for yourself!'

`The next time you bring a tale to me you shall quit my service, Ellen
Dean,' he replied.

`You'd rather hear nothing about it, I suppose, then, Mr.\ Linton?'
said I. `Heathcliff has your permission to come a-courting to Miss,
and to drop in at every opportunity your absence offers, on purpose
to poison the mistress against you?'

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

`Ah! Nelly has played traitor,' she exclaimed, passionately. `Nelly
is my hidden enemy. You witch! So you do seek elf-bolts to hurt us!
Let me go, and I'll make her rue! I'll make her howl a recantation!'

A maniac's fury kindled under her brows; she struggled desperately
to disengage herself from Linton's arms. I felt no inclination to
tarry the event; and, resolving to seek medical aid on my own responsibility,
I quitted the chamber.

In passing the garden to reach the road, at a place where a bridle
hook is driven into the wall, I saw something white moved irregularly,
evidently by another agent than the wind. Notwithstanding my hurry,
I stayed to examine it, lest ever after I should have the conviction
impressed on my imagination that it was a creature of the other world.
My surprise and perplexity were great on discovering, by touch more
than vision, Miss Isabella's springer, Fanny, suspended by a handkerchief,
and nearly at its last gasp. I quickly released the animal, and lifted
it into the garden. I had seen it follow its mistress up-stairs when
she went to bed; and wondered much how it could have got out there,
and what mischievous person had treated it so. While untying the knot
round the hook, it seemed to me that I repeatedly caught the beat
of horses' feet galloping at some distance; but there were such a
number of things to occupy my reflections that I hardly gave the circumstance
a thought: though it was a strange sound, in that place, at two o'clock
in the morning.

Mr.\ Kenneth was fortunately just issuing from his house to see a
patient in the village as I came up the street; and my account of
Catherine Linton's malady induced him to accompany me back immediately.
He was a plain rough man; and he made no scruple to speak his doubts
of her surviving this second attack; unless she were more submissive
to his directions than she had shown herself before.

`Nelly Dean,' said he, `I can't help fancying there's an extra cause
for this. What has there been to do at the Grange? We've odd reports
up here. A stout, hearty lass like Catherine does not fall ill for
a trifle; and that sort of people should not either. It's hard work
bringing them through fevers, and such things. How did it begin?'

`The master will inform you,' I answered; `but you are acquainted
with the Earnshaws' violent dispositions, and Mrs.\ Linton caps them
all. I may say this; it commenced in a quarrel. She was struck during
a tempest of passion with a kind of fit. That's her account, at least:
for she flew off in the height of it, and locked herself up. Afterwards,
she refused to eat, and now she alternately raves and remains in a
half dream; knowing those about her, but having her mind filled with
all sorts of strange ideas and illusions.'

`Mr.\ Linton will be sorry?'\ observed Kenneth, interrogatively.

`Sorry? he'll break his heart should anything happen!'\ I replied.
`Don't alarm him more than necessary.'

`Well, I told him to beware,' said my companion; `and he must bide
the consequences of neglecting my warning! Hasn't he been intimate
with Mr.\ Heathcliff lately?'

`Heathcliff frequently visits at the Grange,' answered I, `though
more on the strength of the mistress having known him when a boy,
than because the master likes his company. At present he's discharged
from the trouble of calling; owing to some presumptuous aspirations
after Miss Linton which he manifested. I hardly think he'll be taken
in again.'

`And does Miss Linton turn a cold shoulder on him?'\ was the doctor's
next question.

`I'm not in her confidence,' returned I, reluctant to continue the
subject.

`No, she's a sly one,' he remarked, shaking his head. `She keeps her
own counsel! But she's a real little fool. I have it from good authority
that last night (and a pretty night it was!) she and Heathcliff were
walking in the plantation at the back of your house above two hours;
and he pressed her not to go in again, but just mount his horse and
away with him! My informant said she could only put him off by pledging
her word of honour to be prepared on their first meeting after that:
when it was to be he didn't hear; but you urge Mr.\ Linton to look
sharp!'

This news filled me with fresh fears; I outstripped Kenneth, and ran
most of the way back. The little dog was yelping in the garden yet.
I spared a minute to open the gate for it, but instead of going to
the house door, it coursed up and down snuffing the grass, and would
have escaped to the road, had I not seized it and conveyed it in with
me. On ascending to Isabella's room, my suspicions were confirmed:
it was empty. Had I been a few hours sooner Mrs.\ Linton's illness
might have arrested her rash step. But what could be done now? There
was a bare possibility of overtaking them if pursued instantly. I
could not pursue them, however; and I dared not rouse the family,
and fill the place with confusion; still less unfold the business
to my master, absorbed as he was in his present calamity, and having
no heart to spare for a second grief! I saw nothing for it but to
hold my tongue, and suffer matters to take their course; and Kenneth
being arrived, I went with a badly composed countenance to announce
him. Catherine lay in a troubled sleep: her husband had succeeded
in soothing the excess of frenzy; he now hung over her pillow, watching
every shade and every change of her painfully expressive features.

The doctor, on examining the case for himself, spoke hopefully to
him of its having a favourable termination, if we could only preserve
around her perfect and constant tranquillity. To me, he signified
the threatening danger was not so much death, as permanent alienation
of intellect.

I did not close my eyes that night, nor did Mr.\ Linton: indeed,
we never went to bed; and the servants were all up long before the
usual hour, moving through the house with stealthy tread, and exchanging
whispers as they encountered each other in their vocations. Every
one was active but Miss Isabella; and they began to remark how sound
she slept: her brother, too, asked if she had risen, and seemed impatient
for her presence, and hurt that she showed so little anxiety for her
sister-in-law. I trembled lest he should send me to call her; but
I was spared the pain of being the first proclaimant of her flight.
One of the maids, a thoughtless girl, who had been on an early errand
to Gimmerton, came panting up-stairs, open-mouthed, and dashed into
the chamber, crying: `Oh, dear, dear! What mun we have next? Master,
master, our young lady---'

`Hold your noise!'\ cried, I hastily, enraged at her clamorous manner.

`Speak lower, Mary---What is the matter?'\ said Mr.\ Linton. `What
ails your young lady?'

`She's gone, she's gone! Yon' Heathcliff's run off wi' her!'\ gasped
the girl.

`That is not true!'\ exclaimed Linton, rising in agitation. `It cannot
be: how has the idea entered your head? Ellen Dean, go and seek her.
It is incredible: it cannot be.'

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

`Why, I met on the road a lad that fetches milk here,' she stammered,
`and he asked whether we weren't in trouble at the Grange. I thought
he meant for missis's sickness, so I answered, yes. Then says he,
{}``There's somebody gone after 'em, I guess?'' I stared. He saw
I knew nought about it, and he told how a gentleman and lady had stopped
to have a horse's shoe fastened at a blacksmith's shop, two miles
out of Gimmerton, not very long after midnight!\ and how the blacksmith's
lass had got up to spy who they were: she knew them both directly.
And she noticed the man---Heathcliff it was, she felt certain: nob'dy
could mistake him, besides---put a sovereign in her father's hand
for payment. The lady had a cloak about her face; but having desired
a sup of water, while she drank it fell back, and she saw her very
plain. Heathcliff held both bridles as they rode on, and they set
their faces from the village, and went as fast as the rough roads
would let them. The lass said nothing to her father, but she told
it all over Gimmerton this morning.'

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

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

`She went of her own accord,' answered the master; `she had a right
to go if she pleased. Trouble me no more about her. Hereafter she
is only my sister in name: not because I disown her, but because she
has disowned me.'

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


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XIII}

For two months the fugitives remained absent; in those two months,
Mrs.\ Linton encountered and conquered the worst shock of what was
denominated a brain fever. No mother could have nursed an only child
more devotedly than Edgar tended her. Day and night he was watching,
and patiently enduring all the annoyances that irritable nerves and
a shaken reason could inflict; and, though Kenneth remarked that what
he saved from the grave would only recompense his care by forming
the source of constant future anxiety---in fact, that his health and
strength were being sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin of humanity---he
knew no limits in gratitude and joy when Catherine's life was declared
out of danger; and hour after hour he would sit beside her, tracing
the gradual return to bodily health, and flattering his too sanguine
hopes with the illusion that her mind would settle back to its right
balance also, and she would soon be entirely her former self.

The first time she left her chamber was at the commencement of the
following March. Mr.\ Linton had put on her pillow, in the morning,
a handful of golden crocuses; her eye, long stranger to any gleam
of pleasure, caught them in waking, and shone delighted as she gathered
them eagerly together.

`These are the earliest flowers at the Heights,' she exclaimed. `They
remind me of soft thaw winds, and warm sunshine, and nearly melted
snow. Edgar, is there not a south wind, and is not the snow almost
gone?'

`The snow is quite gone down here, darling,' replied her husband;
`and I only see two white spots on the whole range of moors: the sky
is blue, and the larks are singing, and the becks and brooks are all
brim full. Catherine, last spring at this time, I was longing to have
you under this roof; now, I wish you were a mile or two up those hills:
the air blows so sweetly, I feel that it would cure you.'

`I shall never be there but once more,' said the invalid; `and then
you'll leave me, and I shall remain for ever. Next spring you'll long
again to have me under this roof, and you'll look back and think you
were happy to-day.'

Linton lavished on her the kindest caresses, and tried to cheer her
by the fondest words; but, vaguely regarding the flowers, she let
the tears collect on her lashes and stream down her cheeks unheeding.
We knew she was really better, and, therefore, decided that long confinement
to a single place produced much of this despondency, and it might
be partially removed by a change of scene. The master told me to light
a fire in the many-weeks' deserted parlour, and to set an easy-chair
in the sunshine by the window; and then he brought her down, and she
sat a long while enjoying the genial heat, and, as we expected, revived
by the objects round her: which, though familiar, were free from the
dreary associations investing her hated sick chamber. By evening she
seemed greatly exhausted; yet no arguments could persuade her to return
to that apartment, and I had to arrange the parlour sofa for her bed,
till another room could be prepared. To obviate the fatigue of mounting
and descending the stairs, we fitted up this, where you lie at present---on
the same floor with the parlour; and she was soon strong enough to
move from one to the other, leaning on Edgar's arm. Ah, I thought
myself, she might recover, so waited on as she was. And there was
double cause to desire it, for on her existence depended that of another:
we cherished the hope that in a little while Mr.\ Linton's heart
would be gladdened, and his lands secured from a stranger's gripe,
by the birth of an heir.

I should mention that Isabella sent to her brother, some six weeks
from her departure, a short note, announcing her marriage with Heathcliff.
It appeared dry and cold; but at the bottom was dotted in with pencil
an obscure apology, and an entreaty for kind remembrance and reconciliation,
if her proceeding had offended him: asserting that she could not help
it then, and being done, she had now no power to repeal it. Linton
did not reply to this, I believe; and, in a fortnight more, I got
a long letter, which I considered odd, coming from the pen of a bride
just out of the honeymoon. I'll read it: for I keep it yet. Any relic
of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

\begin{quotation}
\noindent \textit{\emph{\noun{Dear}}} \textit{\emph{\noun{Ellen}}},
it begins,---I came last night to Wuthering Heights, and heard, for
the first time, that Catherine has been, and is yet, very ill. I must
not write to her, I suppose, and my brother is either too angry or
too distressed to answer what I sent him. Still, I must write to somebody,
and the only choice left me is you.

Inform Edgar that I'd give the world to see his face again---that
my heart returned to Thrushcross Grange in twenty-four hours after
I left it, and is there at this moment, full of warm feelings for
him, and Catherine! \emph{I} \textit{can't} \textit{follow} \textit{it}
\textit{though}---(these words are underlined)---they need not expect
me, and they may draw what conclusions they please; taking care, however,
to lay nothing at the door of my weak will or deficient affection.

The remainder of the letter is for yourself alone. I want to ask you
two questions: the first is,---How did you contrive to preserve the
common sympathies of human nature when you resided here? I cannot
recognise any sentiment which those around share with me.

The second question I have great interest in; it is this---Is Mr.\ Heathcliff
a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? I sha'n't tell
my reasons for making this inquiry; but I beseech you to explain,
if you can, what I have married: that is, when you call to see me;
and you must call, Ellen, very soon. Don't write, but come, and bring
me something from Edgar.

Now, you shall hear how I have been received in my new home, as I
am led to imagine the Heights will be. It is to amuse myself that
I dwell on such subjects as the lack of external comforts: they never
occupy my thoughts, except at the moment when I miss them. I should
laugh and dance for joy, if I found their absence was the total of
my miseries, and the rest was an unnatural dream!

The sun set behind the Grange as we turned on to the moors; by that,
I judged it to be six o'clock; and my companion halted half an hour,
to inspect the park, and the gardens, and, probably, the place itself,
as well as he could; so it was dark when we dismounted in the paved
yard of the farm-house, and your old fellow-servant, Joseph, issued
out to receive us by the light of a dip candle. He did it with a courtesy
that redounded to his credit. His first act was to elevate his torch
to a level with my face, squint malignantly, project his under-lip,
and turn away. Then he took the two horses, and led them into the
stables; reappearing for the purpose of locking the outer gate, as
if we lived in an ancient castle.

Heathcliff stayed to speak to him, and I entered the kitchen---a dingy,
untidy hole; I daresay you would not know it, it is so changed since
it was in your charge. By the fire stood a ruffianly child, strong
in limb and dirty in garb, with a look of Catherine in his eyes and
about his mouth.

`This is Edgar's legal nephew,' I reflected---`mine in a manner; I
must shake hands, and---yes---I must kiss him. It is right to establish
a good understanding at the beginning.'

I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said---`How
do you do, my dear?'

He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.

`Shall you and I be friends, Hareton?'\ was my next essay at conversation.

An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not `frame off'
rewarded my perseverance.

`Hey, Throttler, lad!'\ whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred
bull-dog from its lair in a corner. `Now, wilt thou be ganging?'\ he
asked authoritatively.

Love for my life urged a compliance; I stepped over the threshold
to wait till the others should enter. Mr.\ Heathcliff was nowhere
visible; and Joseph, whom I followed to the stables, and requested
to accompany me in, after staring and muttering to himself, screwed
up his nose and replied---`Mim!\ mim!\ mim! Did iver Christian body
hear aught like it? 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, and continued
his work; moving his lantern jaws meanwhile, and surveying my dress
and countenance (the former a great deal too fine, but the latter,
I'm sure, as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.

I walked round the yard, and through a wicket, to another door, at
which I took the liberty of knocking, in hopes some more civil servant
might show himself. After a short suspense, it was opened by a tall,
gaunt man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly;
his features were lost in masses of shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders;
and \textit{his} eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine's with all
their beauty annihilated.

`What's your business here?'\ he demanded, grimly. `Who are you?'

`My name was Isabella Linton,' I replied. `You've seen me before,
sir. I'm lately married to Mr.\ Heathcliff, and he has brought me
here---I suppose, by your permission.'

`Is he come back, then?'\ asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry
wolf.

`Yes---we came just now,' I said; `but he left me by the kitchen door;
and when I would have gone in, your little boy played sentinel over
the place, and frightened me off by the help of a bull-dog.'

`It's well the hellish villain has kept his word!'\ growled my future
host, searching the darkness beyond me in expectation of discovering
Heathcliff; and then he indulged in a soliloquy of execrations, and
threats of what he would have done had the `fiend' deceived him.

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

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

I sat and thought a doleful time: the clock struck eight, and nine,
and still my companion paced to and fro, his head bent on his breast,
and perfectly silent, unless a groan or a bitter ejaculation forced
itself out at intervals. I listened to detect a woman's voice in the
house, and filled the interim with wild regrets and dismal anticipations,
which, at last, spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing and weeping.
I was not aware how openly I grieved, till Earnshaw halted opposite,
in his measured walk, and gave me a stare of newly-awakened surprise.
Taking advantage of his recovered attention, I exclaimed---`I'm tired
with my journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maid-servant?
Direct me to her, as she won't come to me!'

`We have none,' he answered; `you must wait on yourself!'

`Where must I sleep, then?'\ I sobbed; I was beyond regarding self-respect,
weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness.

`Joseph will show you Heathcliff's chamber,' said he; `open that door---he's
in there.'

I was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the
strangest tone---`Be so good as to turn your lock, and draw your bolt---don't
omit it!'

`Well!'\ I said. `But why, Mr.\ Earnshaw?' I did not relish the
notion of deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.

`Look here!'\ he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a curiously-constructed
pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached to the barrel.
`That's a great tempter to a desperate man, is it not? I cannot resist
going up with this every night, and trying his door. If once I find
it open he's done for; I do it invariably, even though the minute
before I have been recalling a hundred reasons that should make me
refrain: it is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by
killing him. You fight against that devil for love as long as you
may; when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save
him!'

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

`I don't care if you tell him,' said he. `Put him on his guard, and
watch for him. You know the terms we are on, I see: his danger does
not shock you.'

`What has Heathcliff done to you?'\ I asked. `In what has he wronged
you, to warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn't it be wiser to bid
him quit the house?'

`No!'\ thundered Earnshaw; `should he offer to leave me, he's a dead
man: persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess! Am I to
lose \textit{all}, without a chance of retrieval? Is Hareton to be
a beggar? Oh, damnation! I \textit{will} have it back; and I'll have
\textit{his} gold too; and then his blood; and hell shall have his
soul! It will be ten times blacker with that guest than ever it was
before!'

You've acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master's habits. He is
clearly on the verge of madness: he was so last night at least. I
shuddered to be near him, and thought on the servant's ill-bred moroseness
as comparatively agreeable. He now recommenced his moody walk, and
I raised the latch, and escaped into the kitchen. Joseph was bending
over the fire, peering into a large pan that swung above it; and a
wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on the settle close by. The contents
of the pan began to boil, and he turned to plunge his hand into the
bowl; I conjectured that this preparation was probably for our supper,
and, being hungry, I resolved it should be eatable; so, crying out
sharply, `\textit{I'll} make the porridge!' I removed the vessel out
of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding-habit. `Mr.\ Earnshaw,'
I continued, `directs me to wait on myself: I will. I'm not going
to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve.'

`Gooid Lord!'\ he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed
stockings from the knee to the ankle. `If there's to be fresh ortherings---just
when I getten used to two maisters, if I mun hev' a \textit{mistress}
set o'er my heead, it's like time to be flitting. I niver \textit{did}
think to see t' day that I mud lave th' owld place---but I doubt it's
nigh at hand!'

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

`Thear!'\ he ejaculated. `Hareton, thou willn't sup thy porridge
to-neeght; they'll be naught but lumps as big as my neive. Thear,
agean! I'd fling in bowl un' all, if I wer ye! There, pale t' guilp
off, un' then ye'll hae done wi' 't. Bang, bang. It's a mercy t' bothom
isn't deaved out!'

It \textit{was} rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins;
four had been provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was brought
from the dairy, which Hareton seized and commenced drinking and spilling
from the expansive lip. I expostulated, and desired that he should
have his in a mug; affirming that I could not taste the liquid treated
so dirtily. The old cynic chose to be vastly offended at this nicety;
assuring me, repeatedly, that `the barn was every bit as good' as
I, `and every bit as wollsome,' and wondering how I could fashion
to be so conceited. Meanwhile, the infant ruffian continued sucking;
and glowered up at me defyingly, as he slavered into the jug.

`I shall have my supper in another room,' I said. `Have you no place
you call a parlour?'

`\textit{Parlour}!'\ he echoed, sneeringly, `\textit{parlour}! Nay,
we've noa \textit{parlours}. If yah dunnut loike wer company, there's
maister's; un' if yah dunnut loike maister, there's us.'

`Then I shall go up-stairs,' I answered; `show me a chamber.'

I put my basin on a tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk.
With great grumblings, the fellow rose, and preceded me in my ascent:
we mounted to the garrets; he opened a door, now and then, to look
into the apartments we passed.

`Here's a rahm,' he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on
hinges. `It's weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in. There's a pack
o' corn i' t' corner, thear, meeterly clane; if ye're feared o' muckying
yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o' t' top on't.'

The `rahm' was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt and grain;
various sacks of which articles were piled around, leaving a wide,
bare space in the middle.

`Why, man,' I exclaimed, facing him angrily, `this is not a place
to sleep in. I wish to see my bed-room.'

`\textit{Bed}-\emph{rume}!'\ he repeated, in a tone of mockery. `Yah's
see all t' \textit{bed}-\emph{rumes} thear is---yon's mine.'

He pointed into the second garret, only differing from the first in
being more naked about the walls, and having a large, low, curtainless
bed, with an indigo-coloured quilt, at one end.

`What do I want with yours?'\ I retorted. `I suppose Mr.\ Heathcliff
does not lodge at the top of the house, does he?'

`Oh!\ it's Maister \emph{Hathecliff's} ye're wanting?'\ cried he,
as if making a new discovery. `Couldn't ye ha' said soa, at onst?
un' then, I mud ha' telled ye, baht all this wark, that that's just
one ye cannut see---he allas keeps it locked, un' nob'dy iver mells
on't but hisseln.'

`You've a nice house, Joseph,' I could not refrain from observing,
`and pleasant inmates; and I think the concentrated essence of all
the madness in the world took up its abode in my brain the day I linked
my fate with theirs! However, that is not to the present purpose---there
are other rooms. For heaven's sake be quick, and let me settle somewhere!'

He made no reply to this adjuration; only plodding doggedly down the
wooden steps, and halting, before an apartment which, from that halt
and the superior quality of its furniture, I conjectured to be the
best one. There was a carpet---a good one, but the pattern was obliterated
by dust; a fireplace hung with cut-paper, dropping to pieces; a handsome
oak-bedstead with ample crimson curtains of rather expensive material
and modern make; but they had evidently experienced rough usage: the
vallances hung in festoons, wrenched from their rings, and the iron
rod supporting them was bent in an arc on one side, causing the drapery
to trail upon the floor. The chairs were also damaged, many of them
severely; and deep indentations deformed the panels of the walls.
I was endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and taking possession,
when my fool of a guide announced,---`This here is t' maister's.'
My supper by this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience
exhausted. I insisted on being provided instantly with a place of
refuge, and means of repose.

`Whear the divil?'\ began the religious elder. `The Lord bless us!
The Lord forgie us! Whear the \textit{hell} wdd ye gang? ye marred,
wearisome nowt! Ye've seen all but Hareton's bit of a cham'er. There's
not another hoile to lig down in i' th' hahse!'

I was so vexed, I flung my tray and its contents on the ground; and
then seated myself at the stairs'-head, hid my face in my hands, and
cried.

`Ech!\ ech!'\ exclaimed Joseph. `Weel done, Miss Cathy!\ weel done,
Miss Cathy! Howsiver, t' maister sall just tum'le o'er them brooken
pots; un' then we's hear summut; we's hear how it's to be. Gooid-for-naught
madling!\ ye desarve pining fro' this to Churstmas, flinging t' precious
gifts o'God under fooit i' yer flaysome rages! But I'm mista'en if
ye shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think
ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i' that plisky. I nobbut wish he
may.'

And so he went on scolding to his den beneath, taking the candle with
him; and I remained in the dark. The period of reflection succeeding
this silly action compelled me to admit the necessity of smothering
my pride and choking my wrath, and bestirring myself to remove its
effects. An unexpected aid presently appeared in the shape of Throttler,
whom I now recognised as a son of our old Skulker: it had spent its
whelphood at the Grange, and was given by my father to Mr.\ Hindley.
I fancy it knew me: it pushed its nose against mine by way of salute,
and then hastened to devour the porridge; while I groped from step
to step, collecting the shattered earthenware, and drying the spatters
of milk from the banister with my pocket-handkerchief. Our labours
were scarcely over when I heard Earnshaw's tread in the passage; my
assistant tucked in his tail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into
the nearest doorway. The dog's endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful;
as I guessed by a scutter down-stairs, and a prolonged, piteous yelping.
I had better luck: he passed on, entered his chamber, and shut the
door. Directly after Joseph came up with Hareton, to put him to bed.
I had found shelter in Hareton's room, and the old man, on seeing
me, said,---`They's rahm for boath ye un' yer pride, now, I sud think
i' the hahse. It's empty; ye may hev' it all to yerseln, un' Him as
allus maks a third, i' sich ill company!'

Gladly did I take advantage of this intimation; and the minute I flung
myself into a chair, by the fire, I nodded, and slept. My slumber
was deep and sweet, though over far too soon. Mr.\ Heathcliff awoke
me; he had just come in, and demanded, in his loving manner, what
I was doing there? I told him the cause of my staying up so late---that
he had the key of our room in his pocket. The adjective \textit{our}
gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be, mine;
and he'd---but I'll not repeat his language, nor describe his habitual
conduct: he is ingenious and unresting in seeking to gain my abhorrence!
I sometimes wonder at him with an intensity that deadens my fear:
yet, I assure you, a tiger or a venomous serpent could not rouse terror
in me equal to that which he wakens. He told me of Catherine's illness,
and accused my brother of causing it promising that I should be Edgar's
proxy in suffering, till he could get hold of him.

I do hate him---I am wretched---I have been a fool! Beware of uttering
one breath of this to any one at the Grange. I shall expect you every
day---don't disappoint me!---\textit{\emph{\noun{Isabella}}}. 
\end{quotation}

\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XIV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XIV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XIV}

As soon as I had perused this epistle I went to the master, and informed
him that his sister had arrived at the Heights, and sent me a letter
expressing her sorrow for Mrs.\ Linton's situation, and her ardent
desire to see him; with a wish that he would transmit to her, as early
as possible, some token of forgiveness by me.

`Forgiveness!'\ said Linton. `I have nothing to forgive her, Ellen.
You may call at Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you like, and
say that I am not angry, but I'm sorry to have lost her; especially
as I can never think she'll be happy. It is out of the question my
going to see her, however: we are eternally divided; and should she
really wish to oblige me, let her persuade the villain she has married
to leave the country.'

`And you won't write her a little note, sir?'\ I asked, imploringly.

`No,' he answered. `It is needless. My communication with Heathcliff's
family shall be as sparing as his with mine. It shall not exist!'

Mr.\ Edgar's coldness depressed me exceedingly; and all the way from
the Grange I puzzled my brains how to put more heart into what he
said, when I repeated it; and how to soften his refusal of even a
few lines to console Isabella. I daresay she had been on the watch
for me since morning: I saw her looking through the lattice as I came
up the garden causeway, and I nodded to her; but she drew back, as
if afraid of being observed. I entered without knocking. There never
was such a dreary, dismal scene as the formerly cheerful house presented!
I must confess, that if I had been in the young lady's place, I would,
at least, have swept the hearth, and wiped the tables with a duster.
But she already partook of the pervading spirit of neglect which encompassed
her. Her pretty face was wan and listless; her hair uncurled: some
locks hanging lankly down, and some carelessly twisted round her head.
Probably she had not touched her dress since yester evening. Hindley
was not there. Mr.\ Heathcliff sat at a table, turning over some
papers in his pocket-book; but he rose when I appeared, asked me how
I did, quite friendly, and offered me a chair. He was the only thing
there that seemed decent; and I thought he never looked better. So
much had circumstances altered their positions, that he would certainly
have struck a stranger as a born and bred gentleman; and his wife
as a thorough little slattern! She came forward eagerly to greet me,
and held out one hand to take the expected letter. I shook my head.
She wouldn't understand the hint, but followed me to a sideboard,
where I went to lay my bonnet, and importuned me in a whisper to give
her directly what I had brought. Heathcliff guessed the meaning of
her manoeuvres, and said---`If you have got anything for Isabella
(as no doubt you have, Nelly), give it to her. You needn't make a
secret of it: we have no secrets between us.'

`Oh, I have nothing,' I replied, thinking it best to speak the truth
at once. `My master bid me tell his sister that she must not expect
either a letter or a visit from him at present. He sends his love,
ma'am, and his wishes for your happiness, and his pardon for the grief
you have occasioned; but he thinks that after this time his household
and the household here should drop intercommunication, as nothing
could come of keeping it up.'

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

`Mrs.\ Linton is now just recovering,' I said; `she'll never be like
she was, but her life is spared; and if you really have a regard for
her, you'll shun crossing her way again: nay, you'll move out of this
country entirely; and that you may not regret it, I'll inform you
Catherine Linton is as different now from your old friend Catherine
Earnshaw, as that young lady is different from me. Her appearance
is changed greatly, her character much more so; and the person who
is compelled, of necessity, to be her companion, will only sustain
his affection hereafter by the remembrance of what she once was, by
common humanity, and a sense of duty!'

`That is quite possible,' remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself to
seem calm: `quite possible that your master should have nothing but
common humanity and a sense of duty to fall back upon. But do you
imagine that I shall leave Catherine to his \textit{duty} and \textit{humanity}?
and can you compare my feelings respecting Catherine to his? Before
you leave this house, I must exact a promise from you that you'll
get me an interview with her: consent, or refuse, I \textit{will}
see her! What do you say?'

`I say, Mr.\ Heathcliff,' I replied, `you must not: you never shall,
through my means. Another encounter between you and the master would
kill her altogether.'

`With your aid that may be avoided,' he continued; `and should there
be danger of such an event---should he be the cause of adding a single
trouble more to her existence---why, I think I shall be justified
in going to extremes! I wish you had sincerity enough to tell me whether
Catherine would suffer greatly from his loss: the fear that she would
restrains me. And there you see the distinction between our feelings:
had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred
that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against
him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished
him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard
ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood! But,
till then---if you don't believe me, you don't know me---till then,
I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his
head!'

`And yet,' I interrupted, `you have no scruples in completely ruining
all hopes of her perfect restoration, by thrusting yourself into her
remembrance now, when she has nearly forgotten you, and involving
her in a new tumult of discord and distress.'

`You suppose she has nearly forgotten me?'\ he said. `Oh, Nelly!\ you
know she has not! You know as well as I do, that for every thought
she spends on Linton she spends a thousand on me! At a most miserable
period of my life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my
return to the neighbourhood last summer; but only her own assurance
could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then, Linton would
be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt. Two
words would comprehend my future---\textit{death} and \textit{hell}:
existence, after losing her, would be hell. Yet I was a fool to fancy
for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine.
If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love
as much in eighty years as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart
as deep as I have: the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough
as her whole affection be monopolised by him. Tush! He is scarcely
a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse. It is not in him
to be loved like me: how can she love in him what he has not?'

`Catherine and Edgar are as fond of each other as any two people can
be,' cried Isabella, with sudden vivacity. `No one has a right to
talk in that manner, and I won't hear my brother depreciated in silence!'

`Your brother is wondrous fond of you too, isn't he?'\ observed Heathcliff,
scornfully. `He turns you adrift on the world with surprising alacrity.'

`He is not aware of what I suffer,' she replied. `I didn't tell him
that.'

`You have been telling him something, then: you have written, have
you?'

`To say that I was married, I did write---you saw the note.'

`And nothing since?'

`No.'

`My young lady is looking sadly the worse for her change of condition,'
I remarked. `Somebody's love comes short in her case, obviously; whose,
I may guess; but, perhaps, I shouldn't say.'

`I should guess it was her own,' said Heathcliff. `She degenerates
into a mere slut! She is tired of trying to please me uncommonly early.
You'd hardly credit it, but the very morrow of our wedding she was
weeping to go home. However, she'll suit this house so much the better
for not being over nice, and I'll take care she does not disgrace
me by rambling abroad.'

`Well, sir,' returned I, `I hope you'll consider that Mrs.\ Heathcliff
is accustomed to be looked after and waited on; and that she has been
brought up like an only daughter, whom every one was ready to serve.
You must let her have a maid to keep things tidy about her, and you
must treat her kindly. Whatever be your notion of Mr.\ Edgar, you
cannot doubt that she has a capacity for strong attachments, or she
wouldn't have abandoned the elegancies, and comforts, and friends
of her former home, to fix contentedly, in such a wilderness as this,
with you.'

`She abandoned them under a delusion,' he answered; `picturing in
me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my
chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational
creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion
of my character and acting on the false impressions she cherished.
But, at last, I think she begins to know me: I don't perceive the
silly smiles and grimaces that provoked me at first; and the senseless
incapability of discerning that I was in earnest when I gave her my
opinion of her infatuation and herself. It was a marvellous effort
of perspicacity to discover that I did not love her. I believed, at
one time, no lessons could teach her that! And yet it is poorly learnt;
for this morning she announced, as a piece of appalling intelligence,
that I had actually succeeded in making her hate me! A positive labour
of Hercules, I assure you! If it be achieved, I have cause to return
thanks. Can I trust your assertion, Isabella? Are you sure you hate
me? If I let you alone for half a day, won't you come sighing and
wheedling to me again? I daresay she would rather I had seemed all
tenderness before you: it wounds her vanity to have the truth exposed.
But I don't care who knows that the passion was wholly on one side:
and I never told her a lie about it. She cannot accuse me of showing
one bit of deceitful softness. The first thing she saw me do, on coming
out of the Grange, was to hang up her little dog; and when she pleaded
for it, the first words I uttered were a wish that I had the hanging
of every being belonging to her, except one: possibly she took that
exception for herself. But no brutality disgusted her: I suppose she
has an innate admiration of it, if only her precious person were secure
from injury! Now, was it not the depth of absurdity---of genuine idiotcy,
for that pitiful, slavish, mean-minded brach to dream that I could
love her? Tell your master, Nelly, that I never, in all my life, met
with such an abject thing as she is. She even disgraces the name of
Linton; and I've sometimes relented, from pure lack of invention,
in my experiments on what she could endure, and still creep shamefully
cringing back! But tell him, also, to set his fraternal and magisterial
heart at ease: that I keep strictly within the limits of the law.
I have avoided, up to this period, giving her the slightest right
to claim a separation; and, what's more, she'd thank nobody for dividing
us. If she desired to go, she might: the nuisance of her presence
outweighs the gratification to be derived from tormenting her!'

`Mr.\ Heathcliff,' said I, `this is the talk of a madman; your wife,
most likely, is convinced you are mad; and, for that reason, she has
borne with you hitherto: but now that you say she may go, she'll doubtless
avail herself of the permission. You are not so bewitched, ma'am,
are you, as to remain with him of your own accord?'

`Take care, Ellen!'\ answered Isabella, her eyes sparkling irefully;
there was no misdoubting by their expression the full success of her
partner's endeavours to make himself detested. `Don't put faith in
a single word he speaks. He's a lying fiend!\ a monster, and not
a human being! I've been told I might leave him before; and I've made
the attempt, but I dare not repeat it! Only, Ellen, promise you'll
not mention a syllable of his infamous conversation to my brother
or Catherine. Whatever he may pretend, he wishes to provoke Edgar
to desperation: he says he has married me on purpose to obtain power
over him; and he sha'n't obtain it---I'll die first! I just hope,
I pray, that he may forget his diabolical prudence and kill me! The
single pleasure I can imagine is to die, or to see him dead!'

`There---that will do for the present!'\ said Heathcliff. `If you
are called upon in a court of law, you'll remember her language, Nelly!
And take a good look at that countenance: she's near the point which
would suit me. No; you're not fit to be your own guardian, Isabella,
now; and I, being your legal protector, must retain you in my custody,
however distasteful the obligation may be. Go up-stairs; I have something
to say to Ellen Dean in private. That's not the way: up-stairs, I
tell you! Why, this is the road upstairs, child!'

He seized, and thrust her from the room; and returned muttering---`I
have no pity! I have no pity! The more the worms writhe, the more
I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I
grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain.'

`Do you understand what the word pity means?'\ I said, hastening
to resume my bonnet. `Did you ever feel a touch of it in your life?'

`Put that down!'\ he interrupted, perceiving my intention to depart.
`You are not going yet. Come here now, Nelly: I must either persuade
or compel you to aid me in fulfilling my determination to see Catherine,
and that without delay. I swear that I meditate no harm: I don't desire
to cause any disturbance, or to exasperate or insult Mr.\ Linton;
I only wish to hear from herself how she is, and why she has been
ill; and to ask if anything that I could do would be of use to her.
Last night I was in the Grange garden six hours, and I'll return there
to-night; and every night I'll haunt the place, and every day, till
I find an opportunity of entering. If Edgar Linton meets me, I shall
not hesitate to knock him down, and give him enough to insure his
quiescence while I stay. If his servants oppose me, I shall threaten
them off with these pistols. But wouldn't it be better to prevent
my coming in contact with them, or their master? And you could do
it so easily. I'd warn you when I came, and then you might let me
in unobserved, as soon as she was alone, and watch till I departed,
your conscience quite calm: you would be hindering mischief.'

I protested against playing that treacherous part in my employer's
house: and, besides, I urged the cruelty and selfishness of his destroying
Mrs.\ Linton's tranquillity for his satisfaction. `The commonest
occurrence startles her painfully,' I said. `She's all nerves, and
she couldn't bear the surprise, I'm positive. Don't persist, sir!\ or
else I shall be obliged to inform my master of your designs; and he'll
take measures to secure his house and its inmates from any such unwarrantable
intrusions!'

`In that case I'll take measures to secure you, woman!'\ exclaimed
Heathcliff; `you shall not leave Wuthering Heights till to-morrow
morning. It is a foolish story to assert that Catherine could not
bear to see me; and as to surprising her, I don't desire it: you must
prepare her---ask her if I may come. You say she never mentions my
name, and that I am never mentioned to her. To whom should she mention
me if I am a forbidden topic in the house? She thinks you are all
spies for her husband. Oh, I've no doubt she's in hell among you!
I guess by her silence, as much as anything, what she feels. You say
she is often restless, and anxious-looking: is that a proof of tranquillity?
You talk of her mind being unsettled. How the devil could it be otherwise
in her frightful isolation? And that insipid, paltry creature attending
her from \textit{duty} and \textit{humanity}! From \textit{pity} and
\textit{charity}! He might as well plant an oak in a flower-pot, and
expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the
soil of his shallow cares? Let us settle it at once: will you stay
here, and am I to fight my way to Catherine over Linton and his footman?
Or will you be my friend, as you have been hitherto, and do what I
request? Decide!\ because there is no reason for my lingering another
minute, if you persist in your stubborn ill-nature!'

Well, Mr.\ Lockwood, I argued and complained, and flatly refused
him fifty times; but in the long run he forced me to an agreement.
I engaged to carry a letter from him to my mistress; and should she
consent, I promised to let him have intelligence of Linton's next
absence from home, when he might come, and get in as he was able:
I wouldn't be there, and my fellow-servants should be equally out
of the way. Was it right or wrong? I fear it was wrong, though expedient.
I thought I prevented another explosion by my compliance; and I thought,
too, it might create a favourable crisis in Catherine's mental illness:
and then I remembered Mr.\ Edgar's stern rebuke of my carrying tales;
and I tried to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, by affirming,
with frequent iteration, that that betrayal of trust, if it merited
so harsh an appellation, should be the last. Notwithstanding, my journey
homeward was sadder than my journey thither; and many misgivings I
had, ere I could prevail on myself to put the missive into Mrs.\ Linton's
hand.

But here is Kenneth; I'll go down, and tell him how much better you
are. My history is \textit{dree}, as we say, and will serve to while
away another morning.

Dree, and dreary! I reflected as the good woman descended to receive
the doctor: and not exactly of the kind which I should have chosen
to amuse me. But never mind! I'll extract wholesome medicines from
Mrs.\ Dean's bitter herbs; and firstly, let me beware of the fascination
that lurks in Catherine Heathcliff's brilliant eyes. I should be in
a curious taking if I surrendered my heart to that young person, and
the daughter turned out a second edition of the mother.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XV}

Another week over---and I am so many days nearer health, and spring!
I have now heard all my neighbour's history, at different sittings,
as the housekeeper could spare time from more important occupations.
I'll continue it in her own words, only a little condensed. She is,
on the whole, a very fair narrator, and I don't think I could improve
her style.

In the evening, she said, the evening of my visit to the Heights,
I knew, as well as if I saw him, that Mr.\ Heathcliff was about the
place; and I shunned going out, because I still carried his letter
in my pocket, and didn't want to be threatened or teased any more.
I had made up my mind not to give it till my master went somewhere,
as I could not guess how its receipt would affect Catherine. The consequence
was, that it did not reach her before the lapse of three days. The
fourth was Sunday, and I brought it into her room after the family
were gone to church. There was a manservant left to keep the house
with me, and we generally made a practice of locking the doors during
the hours of service; but on that occasion the weather was so warm
and pleasant that I set them wide open, and, to fulfil my engagement,
as I knew who would be coming, I told my companion that the mistress
wished very much for some oranges, and he must run over to the village
and get a few, to be paid for on the morrow. He departed, and I went
up-stairs.

Mrs.\ Linton sat in a loose white dress, with a light shawl over
her shoulders, in the recess of the open window, as usual. Her thick,
long hair had been partly removed at the beginning of her illness,
and now she wore it simply combed in its natural tresses over her
temples and neck. Her appearance was altered, as I had told Heathcliff;
but when she was calm, there seemed unearthly beauty in the change.
The flash of her eyes had been succeeded by a dreamy and melancholy
softness; they no longer gave the impression of looking at the objects
around her: they appeared always to gaze beyond, and far beyond---you
would have said out of this world. Then, the paleness of her face---its
haggard aspect having vanished as she recovered flesh---and the peculiar
expression arising from her mental state, though painfully suggestive
of their causes, added to the touching interest which she awakened;
and---invariably to me, I know, and to any person who saw her, I should
think---refuted more tangible proofs of convalescence, and stamped
her as one doomed to decay.

A book lay spread on the sill before her, and the scarcely perceptible
wind fluttered its leaves at intervals. I believe Linton had laid
it there: for she never endeavoured to divert herself with reading,
or occupation of any kind, and he would spend many an hour in trying
to entice her attention to some subject which had formerly been her
amusement. She was conscious of his aim, and in her better moods endured
his efforts placidly, only showing their uselessness by now and then
suppressing a wearied sigh, and checking him at last with the saddest
of smiles and kisses. At other times, she would turn petulantly away,
and hide her face in her hands, or even push him off angrily; and
then he took care to let her alone, for he was certain of doing no
good.

Gimmerton chapel bells were still ringing; and the full, mellow flow
of the beck in the valley came soothingly on the ear. It was a sweet
substitute for the yet absent murmur of the summer foliage, which
drowned that music about the Grange when the trees were in leaf. At
Wuthering Heights it always sounded on quiet days following a great
thaw or a season of steady rain. And of Wuthering Heights Catherine
was thinking as she listened: that is, if she thought or listened
at all; but she had the vague, distant look I mentioned before, which
expressed no recognition of material things either by ear or eye.

`There's a letter for you, Mrs.\ Linton,' I said, gently inserting
it in one hand that rested on her knee. `You must read it immediately,
because it wants an answer. Shall I break the seal?' `Yes,' she answered,
without altering the direction of her eyes. I opened it---it was very
short. `Now,' I continued, `read it.' She drew away her hand, and
let it fall. I replaced it in her lap, and stood waiting till it should
please her to glance down; but that movement was so long delayed that
at last I resumed---`Must I read it, ma'am? It is from Mr.\ Heathcliff.'

There was a start and a troubled gleam of recollection, and a struggle
to arrange her ideas. She lifted the letter, and seemed to peruse
it; and when she came to the signature she sighed: yet still I found
she had not gathered its import, for, upon my desiring to hear her
reply, she merely pointed to the name, and gazed at me with mournful
and questioning eagerness.

`Well, he wishes to see you,' said I, guessing her need of an interpreter.
`He's in the garden by this time, and impatient to know what answer
I shall bring.'

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

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

`Oh, Cathy! Oh, my life!\ how can I bear it?'\ was the first sentence
he uttered, in a tone that did not seek to disguise his despair. And
now he stared at her so earnestly that I thought the very intensity
of his gaze would bring tears into his eyes; but they burned with
anguish: they did not melt.

`What now?'\ said Catherine, leaning back, and returning his look
with a suddenly clouded brow: her humour was a mere vane for constantly
varying caprices. `You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff!
And you both come to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people
to be pitied! I shall not pity you, not I.\  You have killed me---and
thriven on it, I think. How strong you are! How many years do you
mean to live after I am gone?'

Heathcliff had knelt on one knee to embrace her; he attempted to rise,
but she seized his hair, and kept him down.

`I wish I could hold you,' she continued, bitterly, `till we were
both dead! I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for
your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do! Will you forget me?
Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years
hence, {}``That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long
ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is past. I've loved many
others since: my children are dearer to me than she was; and, at death,
I shall not rejoice that I are going to her: I shall be sorry that
I must leave them!'' Will you say so, Heathcliff?'

`Don't torture me till I'm as mad as yourself,' cried he, wrenching
his head free, and grinding his teeth.

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

`Are you possessed with a devil,' he pursued, savagely, 'to talk in
that manner to me when you are dying? Do you reflect that all those
words will be branded in my memory, and eating deeper eternally after
you have left me? You know you lie to say I have killed you: and,
Catherine, you know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!
Is it not sufficient for your infernal selfishness, that while you
are at peace I shall writhe in the torments of hell?'

`I shall not be at peace,' moaned Catherine, recalled to a sense of
physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of her heart,
which beat visibly and audibly under this excess of agitation. She
said nothing further till the paroxysm was over; then she continued,
more kindly---

`I'm not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only
wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you
hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my
own sake, forgive me! Come here and kneel down again! You never harmed
me in your life. Nay, if you nurse anger, that will be worse to remember
than my harsh words! Won't you come here again? Do!'

Heathcliff went to the back of her chair, and leant over, but not
so far as to let her see his face, which was livid with emotion. She
bent round to look at him; he would not permit it: turning abruptly,
he walked to the fireplace, where he stood, silent, with his back
towards us. Mrs.\ Linton's glance followed him suspiciously: every
movement woke a new sentiment in her. After a pause and a prolonged
gaze, she resumed; addressing me in accents of indignant disappointment:-

`Oh, you see, Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of
the grave. \textit{That} is how I'm loved! Well, never mind. That
is not \textit{my} Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; and take him
with me: he's in my soul. And,' added she musingly, `the thing that
irks me most is this shattered prison, after all. I'm tired of being
enclosed here. I'm wearying to escape into that glorious world, and
to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning
for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and
in it. Nelly, you think you are better and more fortunate than I;
in full health and strength: you are sorry for me---very soon that
will be altered. I shall be sorry for \textit{you}. I shall be incomparably
beyond and above you all. I \textit{wonder} he won't be near me!'
She went on to herself. `I thought he wished it. Heathcliff, dear!\ you
should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff.'

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the
chair. At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely
desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her;
his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held asunder, and
then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he
caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought
my mistress would never be released alive: in fact, to my eyes, she
seemed directly insensible. He flung himself into the nearest seat,
and on my approaching hurriedly to ascertain if she had fainted, he
gnashed at me, and foamed like a mad dog, and gathered her to him
with greedy jealousy. I did not feel as if I were in the company of
a creature of my own species: it appeared that he would not understand,
though I spoke to him; so I stood off, and held my tongue, in great
perplexity.

A movement of Catherine's relieved me a little presently: she put
up her hand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held
her; while he, in return, covering her with frantic caresses, said
wildly---

`You teach me now how cruel you've been---cruel and false. \textit{Why}
did you despise me? \textit{Why} did you betray your own heart, Cathy?
I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed
yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and
tears: they'll blight you---they'll damn you. You loved me---then
what \textit{right} had you to leave me? What right---answer me---for
the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation,
and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have
parted us, \textit{you}, of your own will, did it. I have not broken
your heart---\textit{you} have broken it; and in breaking it, you
have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I
want to live? What kind of living will it be when you---oh, God!\ would
\textit{you} like to live with your soul in the grave?'

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

`It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those
wasted hands,' he answered. `Kiss me again; and don't let me see your
eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love \textit{my} murderer---but
\textit{yours}! How can I?'

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

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

`Service is over,' I announced. `My master will be here in half an
hour.'

Heathcliff groaned a curse, and strained Catherine closer: she never
moved.

Ere long I perceived a group of the servants passing up the road towards
the kitchen wing. Mr.\ Linton was not far behind; he opened the gate
himself and sauntered slowly up, probably enjoying the lovely afternoon
that breathed as soft as summer.

`Now he is here,' I exclaimed. `For heaven's sake, hurry down! You'll
not meet any one on the front stairs. Do be quick; and stay among
the trees till he is fairly in.'

`I must go, Cathy,' said Heathcliff, seeking to extricate himself
from his companion's arms. `But if I live, I'll see you again before
you are asleep. I won't stray five yards from your window.'

`You must not go!'\ she answered, holding him as firmly as her strength
allowed. `You \textit{shall} not, I tell you.'

`For one hour,' he pleaded earnestly.

`Not for one minute,' she replied.

`I \textit{must}---Linton will be up immediately,' persisted the alarmed
intruder.

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

`No!'\ she shrieked. `Oh, don't, don't go. It is the last time! Edgar
will not hurt us. Heathcliff, I shall die! I shall die!'

`Damn the fool! There he is,' cried Heathcliff, sinking back into
his seat. `Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If
he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips.'

And there they were fast again. I heard my master mounting the stairs---the
cold sweat ran from my forehead: I was horrified.

`Are you going to listen to her ravings?'\ I said, passionately.
`She does not know what she says. Will you ruin her, because she has
not wit to help herself? Get up! You could be free instantly. That
is the most diabolical deed that ever you did. We are all done for---master,
mistress, and servant.'

I wrung my hands, and cried out; and Mr.\ Linton hastened his step
at the noise. In the midst of my agitation, I was sincerely glad to
observe that Catherine's arms had fallen relaxed, and her head hung
down.

`She's fainted, or dead,' I thought: `so much the better. Far better
that she should be dead, than lingering a burden and a misery-maker
to all about her.'

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

`Look there!'\ he said. `Unless you be a fiend, help her first---then
you shall speak to me!'

He walked into the parlour, and sat down. Mr.\ Linton summoned me,
and with great difficulty, and after resorting to many means, we managed
to restore her to sensation; but she was all bewildered; she sighed,
and moaned, and knew nobody. Edgar, in his anxiety for her, forgot
her hated friend. I did not. I went, at the earliest opportunity,
and besought him to depart; affirming that Catherine was better, and
he should hear from me in the morning how she passed the night.

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

He sent a rapid glance through the half-open door of the chamber,
and, ascertaining that what I stated was apparently true, delivered
the house of his luckless presence.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XVI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XVI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XVI}

About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at
Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and two hours after
the mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to
miss Heathcliff, or know Edgar. The latter's distraction at his bereavement
is a subject too painful to be dwelt on; its after-effects showed
how deep the sorrow sunk. A great addition, in my eyes, was his being
left without an heir. I bemoaned that, as I gazed on the feeble orphan;
and I mentally abused old Linton for (what was only natural partiality)
the securing his estate to his own daughter, instead of his son's.
An unwelcomed infant it was, poor thing! It might have wailed out
of life, and nobody cared a morsel, during those first hours of existence.
We redeemed the neglect afterwards; but its beginning was as friendless
as its end is likely to be.

Next morning---bright and cheerful out of doors---stole softened in
through the blinds of the silent room, and suffused the couch and
its occupant with a mellow, tender glow. Edgar Linton had his head
laid on the pillow, and his eyes shut. His young and fair features
were almost as deathlike as those of the form beside him, and almost
as fixed: but \textit{his} was the hush of exhausted anguish, and
\textit{hers} of perfect peace. Her brow smooth, her lids closed,
her lips wearing the expression of a smile; no angel in heaven could
be more beautiful than she appeared. And I partook of the infinite
calm in which she lay: my mind was never in a holier frame than while
I gazed on that untroubled image of Divine rest. I instinctively echoed
the words she had uttered a few hours before: `Incomparably beyond
and above us all! Whether still on earth or now in heaven, her spirit
is at home with God!'

I don't know if it be a peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise
than happy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzied
or despairing mourner share the duty with me. I see a repose that
neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless
and shadowless hereafter---the Eternity they have entered---where
life is boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy
in its fulness. I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there
is even in a love like Mr.\ Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's
blessed release! To be sure, one might have doubted, after the wayward
and impatient existence she had led, whether she merited a haven of
peace at last. One might doubt in seasons of cold reflection; but
not then, in the presence of her corpse. It asserted its own tranquillity,
which seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its former inhabitant.

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

I declined answering Mrs.\ Dean's question, which struck me as something
heterodox. She proceeded:

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

The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit
the room and steal out to the pure refreshing air. The servants thought
me gone to shake off the drowsiness of my protracted watch; in reality,
my chief motive was seeing Mr.\ Heathcliff. If he had remained among
the larches all night, he would have heard nothing of the stir at
the Grange; unless, perhaps, he might catch the gallop of the messenger
going to Gimmerton. If he had come nearer, he would probably be aware,
from the lights flitting to and fro, and the opening and shutting
of the outer doors, that all was not right within. I wished, yet feared,
to find him. I felt the terrible news must be told, and I longed to
get it over; but how to do it I did not know. He was there---at least,
a few yards further in the park; leant against an old ash-tree, his
hat off, and his hair soaked with the dew that had gathered on the
budded branches, and fell pattering round him. He had been standing
a long time in that position, for I saw a pair of ousels passing and
repassing scarcely three feet from him, busy in building their nest,
and regarding his proximity no more than that of a piece of timber.
They flew off at my approach, and he raised his eyes and spoke:---`She's
dead!'\ he said; `I've not waited for you to learn that. Put your
handkerchief away---don't snivel before me. Damn you all!\ she wants
none of your tears!'

I was weeping as much for him as her: we do sometimes pity creatures
that have none of the feeling either for themselves or others. When
I first looked into his face, I perceived that he had got intelligence
of the catastrophe; and a foolish notion struck me that his heart
was quelled and he prayed, because his lips moved and his gaze was
bent on the ground.

`Yes, she's dead!'\ I answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks.
`Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if we
take due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good!'

`Did \textit{she} take due warning, then?'\ asked Heathcliff, attempting
a sneer. `Did she die like a saint? Come, give me a true history of
the event. How did---?'

He endeavoured to pronounce the name, but could not manage it; and
compressing his mouth he held a silent combat with his inward agony,
defying, meanwhile, my sympathy with an unflinching, ferocious stare.
`How did she die?'\ he resumed, at last---fain, notwithstanding his
hardihood, to have a support behind him; for, after the struggle,
he trembled, in spite of himself, to his very finger-ends.

`Poor wretch!'\ I thought; `you have a heart and nerves the same
as your brother men! Why should you be anxious to conceal them? Your
pride cannot blind God! You tempt him to wring them, till he forces
a cry of humiliation.'

`Quietly as a lamb!'\ I answered, aloud. `She drew a sigh, and stretched
herself, like a child reviving, and sinking again to sleep; and five
minutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!'

`And---did she ever mention me?'\ he asked, hesitating, as if he
dreaded the answer to his question would introduce details that he
could not bear to hear.

`Her senses never returned: she recognised nobody from the time you
left her,' I said. `She lies with a sweet smile on her face; and her
latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed
in a gentle dream---may she wake as kindly in the other world!'

`May she wake in torment!'\ he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping
his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion.
`Why, she's a liar to the end! Where is she? Not \textit{there}---not
in heaven---not perished---where? Oh!\ you said you cared nothing
for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer---I repeat it till my tongue
stiffens---Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living;
you said I killed you---haunt me, then! The murdered \textit{do} haunt
their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts \textit{have} wandered
on earth. Be with me always---take any form---drive me mad!\ only
\textit{do} not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh,
God!\ it is unutterable! I \textit{cannot} live without my life!
I \textit{cannot} live without my soul!'

He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his
eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded
to death with knives and spears. I observed several splashes of blood
about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained;
probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during
the night. It hardly moved my compassion---it appalled me: still,
I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself
enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command for me to go,
and I obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console!

Mrs.\ Linton's funeral was appointed to take place on the Friday
following her decease; and till then her coffin remained uncovered,
and strewn with flowers and scented leaves, in the great drawing-room.
Linton spent his days and nights there, a sleepless guardian; and---a
circumstance concealed from all but me---Heathcliff spent his nights,
at least, outside, equally a stranger to repose. I held no communication
with him: still, I was conscious of his design to enter, if he could;
and on the Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master, from sheer
fatigue, had been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and
opened one of the windows; moved by his perseverance to give him a
chance of bestowing on the faded image of his idol one final adieu.
He did not omit to avail himself of the opportunity, cautiously and
briefly; too cautiously to betray his presence by the slightest noise.
Indeed, I shouldn't have discovered that he had been there, except
for the disarrangement of the drapery about the corpse's face, and
for observing on the floor a curl of light hair, fastened with a silver
thread; which, on examination, I ascertained to have been taken from
a locket hung round Catherine's neck. Heathcliff had opened the trinket
and cast out its contents, replacing them by a black lock of his own.
I twisted the two, and enclosed them together.

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

The place of Catherine's interment, to the surprise of the villagers,
was neither in the chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons,
nor yet by the tombs of her own relations, outside. It was dug on
a green slope in a corner of the kirk-yard, where the wall is so low
that heath and bilberry-plants have climbed over it from the moor;
and peat-mould almost buries it. Her husband lies in the same spot
now; and they have each a simple headstone above, and a plain grey
block at their feet, to mark the graves.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XVII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XVII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XVII}

That Friday made the last of our fine days for a month. In the evening
the weather broke: the wind shifted from south to north-east, and
brought rain first, and then sleet and snow. On the morrow one could
hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer: the primroses
and crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts; the larks were silent,
the young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened. And dreary,
and chill, and dismal, that morrow did creep over! My master kept
his room; I took possession of the lonely parlour, converting it into
a nursery: and there I was, sitting with the moaning doll of a child
laid on my knee; rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, the
still driving flakes build up the uncurtained window, when the door
opened, and some person entered, out of breath and laughing! My anger
was greater than my astonishment for a minute. I supposed it one of
the maids, and I cried---`Have done! How dare you show your giddiness
here; What would Mr.\ Linton say if he heard you?'

`Excuse me!'\ answered a familiar voice; `but I know Edgar is in
bed, and I cannot stop myself.'

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

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

The intruder was Mrs.\ Heathcliff. She certainly seemed in no laughing
predicament: her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow
and water; she was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore,
befitting her age more than her position: a low frock with short sleeves,
and nothing on either head or neck. The frock was of light silk, and
clung to her with wet, and her feet were protected merely by thin
slippers; add to this a deep cut under one ear, which only the cold
prevented from bleeding profusely, a white face scratched and bruised,
and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue; and you
may fancy my first fright was not much allayed when I had had leisure
to examine her.

`My dear young lady,' I exclaimed, `I'll stir nowhere, and hear nothing,
till you have removed every article of your clothes, and put on dry
things; and certainly you shall not go to Gimmerton to-night, so it
is needless to order the carriage.'

`Certainly I shall,' she said; `walking or riding: yet I've no objection
to dress myself decently. And---ah, see how it flows down my neck
now! The fire does make it smart.'

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

`Now, Ellen,' she said, when my task was finished and she was seated
in an easy-chair on the hearth, with a cup of tea before her, `you
sit down opposite me, and put poor Catherine's baby away: I don't
like to see it! You mustn't think I care little for Catherine, because
I behaved so foolishly on entering: I've cried, too, bitterly---yes,
more than any one else has reason to cry. We parted unreconciled,
you remember, and I sha'n't forgive myself. But, for all that, I was
not going to sympathise with him---the brute beast! Oh, give me the
poker! This is the last thing of his I have about me:' she slipped
the gold ring from her third finger, and threw it on the floor. `I'll
smash it!'\ she continued, striking it with childish spite, `and
then I'll burn it!'\ and she took and dropped the misused article
among the coals. `There!\ he shall buy another, if he gets me back
again. He'd be capable of coming to seek me, to tease Edgar. I dare
not stay, lest that notion should possess his wicked head! And besides,
Edgar has not been kind, has he? And I won't come suing for his assistance;
nor will I bring him into more trouble. Necessity compelled me to
seek shelter here; though, if I had not learned he was out of the
way, I'd have halted at the kitchen, washed my face, warmed myself,
got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again to anywhere out
of the reach of my accursed---of that incarnate goblin! Ah, he was
in such a fury! If he had caught me! It's a pity Earnshaw is not his
match in strength: I wouldn't have run till I'd seen him all but demolished,
had Hindley been able to do it!'

`Well, don't talk so fast, Miss!'\ I interrupted; `you'll disorder
the handkerchief I have tied round your face, and make the cut bleed
again. Drink your tea, and take breath, and give over laughing: laughter
is sadly out of place under this roof, and in your condition!'

`An undeniable truth,' she replied. `Listen to that child! It maintains
a constant wail---send it out of my hearing for an hour; I sha'n't
stay any longer.'

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

`I ought, and I wished to remain,' answered she, `to cheer Edgar and
take care of the baby, for two things, and because the Grange is my
right home. But I tell you he wouldn't let me! Do you think he could
bear to see me grow fat and merry---could bear to think that we were
tranquil, and not resolve on poisoning our comfort? Now, I have the
satisfaction of being sure that he detests me, to the point of its
annoying him seriously to have me within ear-shot or eyesight: I notice,
when I enter his presence, the muscles of his countenance are involuntarily
distorted into an expression of hatred; partly arising from his knowledge
of the good causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly
from original aversion. It is strong enough to make me feel pretty
certain that he would not chase me over England, supposing I contrived
a clear escape; and therefore I must get quite away. I've recovered
from my first desire to be killed by him: I'd rather he'd kill himself!
He has extinguished my love effectually, and so I'm at my ease. I
can recollect yet how I loved him; and can dimly imagine that I could
still be loving him, if---no, no! Even if he had doted on me, the
devilish nature would have revealed its existence somehow. Catherine
had an awfully perverted taste to esteem him so dearly, knowing him
so well. Monster!\ would that he could be blotted out of creation,
and out of my memory!'

`Hush, hush! He's a human being,' I said. `Be more charitable: there
are worse men than he is yet!'

`He's not a human being,' she retorted; `and he has no claim on my
charity. I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death,
and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and
since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him: and
I would not, though he groaned from this to his dying day, and wept
tears of blood for Catherine! No, indeed, indeed, I wouldn't!' And
here Isabella began to cry; but, immediately dashing the water from
her lashes, she recommenced. `You asked, what has driven me to flight
at last? I was compelled to attempt it, because I had succeeded in
rousing his rage a pitch above his malignity. Pulling out the nerves
with red hot pincers requires more coolness than knocking on the head.
He was worked up to forget the fiendish prudence he boasted of, and
proceeded to murderous violence. I experienced pleasure in being able
to exasperate him: the sense of pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation,
so I fairly broke free; and if ever I come into his hands again he
is welcome to a signal revenge.

`Yesterday, you know, Mr.\ Earnshaw should have been at the funeral.
He kept himself sober for the purpose---tolerably sober: not going
to bed mad at six o'clock and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently,
he rose, in suicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance;
and instead, he sat down by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by
tumblerfuls.

`Heathcliff---I shudder to name him!\ has been a stranger in the
house from last Sunday till to-day. Whether the angels have fed him,
or his kin beneath, I cannot tell; but he has not eaten a meal with
us for nearly a week. He has just come home at dawn, and gone up-stairs
to his chamber; looking himself in---as if anybody dreamt of coveting
his company! There he has continued, praying like a Methodist: only
the deity he implored is senseless dust and ashes; and God, when addressed,
was curiously confounded with his own black father! After concluding
these precious orisons---and they lasted generally till he grew hoarse
and his voice was strangled in his throat---he would be off again;
always straight down to the Grange! I wonder Edgar did not send for
a constable, and give him into custody! For me, grieved as I was about
Catherine, it was impossible to avoid regarding this season of deliverance
from degrading oppression as a holiday.

`I recovered spirits sufficient to bear Joseph's eternal lectures
without weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot
of a frightened thief than formerly. You wouldn't think that I should
cry at anything Joseph could say; but he and Hareton are detestable
companions. I'd rather sit with Hindley, and hear his awful talk,
than with {}``t' little maister'' and his staunch supporter, that
odious old man! When Heathcliff is in, I'm often obliged to seek the
kitchen and their society, or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers;
when he is not, as was the case this week, I establish a table and
chair at one corner of the house fire, and never mind how Mr.\ Earnshaw
may occupy himself; and he does not interfere with my arrangements.
He is quieter now than he used to be, if no one provokes him: more
sullen and depressed, and less furious. Joseph affirms he's sure he's
an altered man: that the Lord has touched his heart, and he is saved
{}``so as by fire.'' I'm puzzled to detect signs of the favourable
change: but it is not my business.

`Yester-evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late
on towards twelve. It seemed so dismal to go up-stairs, with the wild
snow blowing outside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the
kirk-yard and the new-made grave! I dared hardly lift my eyes from
the page before me, that melancholy scene so instantly usurped its
place. Hindley sat opposite, his head leant on his hand; perhaps meditating
on the same subject. He had ceased drinking at a point below irrationality,
and had neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours. There
was no sound through the house but the moaning wind, which shook the
windows every now and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and
the click of my snuffers as I removed at intervals the long wick of
the candle. Hareton and Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed. It
was very, very sad: and while I read I sighed, for it seemed as if
all joy had vanished from the world, never to be restored.

`The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen
latch: Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual;
owing, I suppose, to the sudden storm. That entrance was fastened,
and we heard him coming round to get in by the other. I rose with
an irrepressible expression of what I felt on my lips, which induced
my companion, who had been staring towards the door, to turn and look
at me.

`{}{}``I'll keep him out five minutes,'' he exclaimed. {}``You
won't object?''

`{}{}``No, you may keep him out the whole night for me,'' I answered.
{}``Do!\ put the key in the look, and draw the bolts.''

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

`{}{}``You, and I,'' he said, {}``have each a great debt to settle
with the man out yonder! If we were neither of us cowards, we might
combine to discharge it. Are you as soft as your brother? Are you
willing to endure to the last, and not once attempt a repayment?''

`{}{}``I'm weary of enduring now,'' I replied; {}``and I'd be
glad of a retaliation that wouldn't recoil on myself; but treachery
and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who
resort to them worse than their enemies.''

`{}{}``Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery and
violence!'' cried Hindley. {}``Mrs.\ Heathcliff, I'll ask you to
do nothing; but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now, can you? I'm sure
you would have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion
of the fiend's existence; he'll be \textit{your} death unless you
overreach him; and he'll be \textit{my} ruin. Damn the hellish villain!
He knocks at the door as if he were master here already! Promise to
hold your tongue, and before that clock strikes---it wants three minutes
of one---you're a free woman!''

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

`{}{}``I'll not hold my tongue!'' I said; {}``you mustn't touch
him. Let the door remain shut, and be quiet!''

`{}{}``No! I've formed my resolution, and by God I'll execute it!''
cried the desperate being. {}``I'll do you a kindness in spite of
yourself, and Hareton justice! And you needn't trouble your head to
screen me; Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regret me, or be
ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute---and it's time to make
an end!''

`I might as well have struggled with a bear, or reasoned with a lunatic.
The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended
victim of the fate which awaited him.

`{}{}``You'd better seek shelter somewhere else to-night!'' I exclaimed,
in rather a triumphant tone. {}``Mr.\ Earnshaw has a mind to shoot
you, if you persist in endeavouring to enter.''

`{}{}``You'd better open the door, you---'' he answered, addressing
me by some elegant term that I don't care to repeat.

`{}{}``I shall not meddle in the matter,'' I retorted again. {}``Come
in and get shot, if you please. I've done my duty.''

`With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire;
having too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any
anxiety for the danger that menaced him. Earnshaw swore passionately
at me: affirming that I loved the villain yet; and calling me all
sorts of names for the base spirit I evinced. And I, in my secret
heart (and conscience never reproached me), thought what a blessing
it would be for \textit{him} should Heathcliff put him out of misery;
and what a blessing for \textit{me} should he send Heathcliff to his
right abode! As I sat nursing these reflections, the casement behind
me was banged on to the floor by a blow from the latter individual,
and his black countenance looked blightingly through. The stanchions
stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled, exulting
in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow,
and his sharp cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wrath, gleamed
through the dark.

`{}{}``Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you repent!'' he {}``girned,''
as Joseph calls it.

`{}{}``I cannot commit murder,'' I replied. {}``Mr.\ Hindley
stands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol.''

`{}{}``Let me in by the kitchen door,'' he said.

`{}{}``Hindley will be there before me,'' I answered: {}``and
that's a poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow! We
were left at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon shone, but
the moment a blast of winter returns, you must run for shelter! Heathcliff,
if I were you, I'd go stretch myself over her grave and die like a
faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it?
You had distinctly impressed on me the idea that Catherine was the
whole joy of your life: I can't imagine how you think of surviving
her loss.''

`{}{}``He's there, is he?'' exclaimed my companion, rushing to
the gap. {}``If I can get my arm out I can hit him!''

`I'm afraid, Ellen, you'll set me down as really wicked; but you don't
know all, so don't judge. I wouldn't have aided or abetted an attempt
on even \textit{his} life for anything. Wish that he were dead, I
must; and therefore I was fearfully disappointed, and unnerved by
terror for the consequences of my taunting speech, when he flung himself
on Earnshaw's weapon and wrenched it from his grasp.

`The charge exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into
its owner's wrist. Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting
up the flesh as it passed on, and thrust it dripping into his pocket.
He then took a stone, struck down the division between two windows,
and sprang in. His adversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain
and the flow of blood, that gushed from an artery or a large vein.
The ruffian kicked and trampled on him, and dashed his head repeatedly
against the flags, holding me with one hand, meantime, to prevent
me summoning Joseph. He exerted preterhuman self-denial in abstaining
from finishing him completely; but getting out of breath, he finally
desisted, and dragged the apparently inanimate body on to the settle.
There he tore off the sleeve of Earnshaw's coat, and bound up the
wound with brutal roughness; spitting and cursing during the operation
as energetically as he had kicked before. Being at liberty, I lost
no time in seeking the old servant; who, having gathered by degrees
the purport of my hasty tale, hurried below, gasping, as he descended
the steps two at once.

`{}{}``What is ther to do, now? what is ther to do, now?''

`{}{}``There's this to do,'' thundered Heathcliff, {}``that your
master's mad; and should he last another month, I'll have him to an
asylum. And how the devil did you come to fasten me out, you toothless
hound? Don't stand muttering and mumbling there. Come, I'm not going
to nurse him. Wash that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your candle---it
is more than half brandy!''

`{}{}``And so ye've been murthering on him?'' exclaimed Joseph,
lifting his hands and eyes in horror. {}``If iver I seed a seeght
loike this! May the Lord---''

`Heathcliff gave him a push on to his knees in the middle of the blood,
and flung a towel to him; but instead of proceeding to dry it up,
he joined his hands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter
from its odd phraseology. I was in the condition of mind to be shocked
at nothing: in fact, I was as reckless as some malefactors show themselves
at the foot of the gallows.

`{}{}``Oh, I forgot you,'' said the tyrant. {}``You shall do that.
Down with you. And you conspire with him against me, do you, viper?
There, that is work fit for you!''

`He shook me till my teeth rattled, and pitched me beside Joseph,
who steadily concluded his supplications, and then rose, vowing he
would set off for the Grange directly. Mr.\ Linton was a magistrate,
and though he had fifty wives dead, he should inquire into this. He
was so obstinate in his resolution, that Heathcliff deemed it expedient
to compel from my lips a recapitulation of what had taken place; standing
over me, heaving with malevolence, as I reluctantly delivered the
account in answer to his questions. It required a great deal of labour
to satisfy the old man that Heathcliff was not the aggressor; especially
with my hardly-wrung replies. However, Mr.\ Earnshaw soon convinced
him that he was alive still; Joseph hastened to administer a dose
of spirits, and by their succour his master presently regained motion
and consciousness. Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant
of the treatment received while insensible, called him deliriously
intoxicated; and said he should not notice his atrocious conduct further,
but advised him to get to bed. To my joy, he left us, after giving
this judicious counsel, and Hindley stretched himself on the hearthstone.
I departed to my own room, marvelling that I had escaped so easily.

`This morning, when I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr.\ Earnshaw
was sitting by the fire, deadly sick; his evil genius, almost as gaunt
and ghastly, leant against the chimney. Neither appeared inclined
to dine, and, having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced
alone. Nothing hindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced
a certain sense of satisfaction and superiority, as, at intervals,
I cast a look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of
a quiet conscience within me. After I had done, I ventured on the
unusual liberty of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw's seat,
and kneeling in the corner beside him.

`Heathcliff did not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated
his features almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone.
His forehead, that I once thought so manly, and that I now think so
diabolical, was shaded with a heavy cloud; his basilisk eyes were
nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping, perhaps, for the lashes
were wet then: his lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed
in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would
have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In \textit{his}
case, I was gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen
enemy, I couldn't miss this chance of sticking in a dart: his weakness
was the only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for
wrong.'

`Fie, fie, Miss!'\ I interrupted. `One might suppose you had never
opened a Bible in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely that
ought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your
torture to his!'

`In general I'll allow that it would be, Ellen,' she continued; `but
what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand
in it? I'd rather he suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings
and he might \textit{know} that I was the cause. Oh, I owe him so
much. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I
may take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench
of agony return a wrench: reduce him to my level. As he was the first
to injure, make him the first to implore pardon; and then---why then,
Ellen, I might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible
I can ever be revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley
wanted some water, and I handed him a glass, and asked him how he
was.

`{}{}``Not as ill as I wish,'' he replied. {}``But leaving out
my arm, every inch of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with
a legion of imps!''

`{}{}``Yes, no wonder,'' was my next remark. {}``Catherine used
to boast that she stood between you and bodily harm: she meant that
certain persons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It's
well people don't \textit{really} rise from their grave, or, last
night, she might have witnessed a repulsive scene! Are not you bruised,
and cut over your chest and shoulders?''

`{}{}``I can't say,'' he answered, {}``but what do you mean? Did
he dare to strike me when I was down?''

`{}{}``He trampled on and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground,''
I whispered. {}``And his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth;
because he's only half man: not so much, and the rest fiend.''

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

`{}{}``Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in
my last agony, I'd go to hell with joy,'' groaned the impatient man,
writhing to rise, and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy
for the struggle.

`{}{}``Nay, it's enough that he has murdered one of you,'' I observed
aloud. {}``At the Grange, every one knows your sister would have
been living now had it not been for Mr.\ Heathcliff. After all, it
is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how
happy we were---how happy Catherine was before he came---I'm fit to
curse the day.''

`Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said,
than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused,
I saw, for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew
his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him, and laughed
scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me;
the fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned
that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.

`{}{}``Get up, and begone out of my sight,'' said the mourner.

`I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was
hardly intelligible.

`{}{}``I beg your pardon,'' I replied. {}``But I loved Catherine
too; and her brother requires attendance, which, for her sake, I shall
supply. Now, that she's dead, I see her in Hindley: Hindley has exactly
her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black
and red; and her---''

`{}{}``Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!'' he
cried, making a movement that caused me to make one also.

`{}{}``But then,'' I continued, holding myself ready to flee, {}``if
poor Catherine had trusted you, and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible,
degrading title of Mrs.\ Heathcliff, she would soon have presented
a similar picture! \textit{She} wouldn't have borne your abominable
behaviour quietly: her detestation and disgust must have found voice.''

`The back of the settle and Earnshaw's person interposed between me
and him; so instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner-knife
from the table and flung it at my head. It struck beneath my ear,
and stopped the sentence I was uttering; but, pulling it out, I sprang
to the door and delivered another; which I hope went a little deeper
than his missile. The last glimpse I caught of him was a furious rush
on his part, checked by the embrace of his host; and both fell locked
together on the hearth. In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph
speed to his master; I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a litter
of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as a soul
escaped from purgatory, I bounded, leaped, and flew down the steep
road; then, quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling
over banks, and wading through marshes: precipitating myself, in fact,
towards the beacon-light of the Grange. And far rather would I be
condemned to a perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions than, even
for one night, abide beneath the roof of Wuthering Heights again.'

Isabella ceased speaking, and took a drink of tea; then she rose,
and bidding me put on her bonnet, and a great shawl I had brought,
and turning a deaf ear to my entreaties for her to remain another
hour, she stepped on to a chair, kissed Edgar's and Catherine's portraits,
bestowed a similar salute on me, and descended to the carriage, accompanied
by Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her mistress. She
was driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood: but a regular
correspondence was established between her and my master when things
were more settled. I believe her new abode was in the south, near
London; there she had a son born a few months subsequent to her escape.
He was christened Linton, and, from the first, she reported him to
be an ailing, peevish creature.

Mr.\ Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where
she lived. I refused to tell. He remarked that it was not of any moment,
only she must beware of coming to her brother: she should not be with
him, if he had to keep her himself. Though I would give no information,
he discovered, through some of the other servants, both her place
of residence and the existence of the child. Still, he didn't molest
her: for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose.
He often asked about the infant, when he saw me; and on hearing its
name, smiled grimly, and observed: `They wish me to hate it too, do
they?'

`I don't think they wish you to know anything about it,' I answered.

`But I'll have it,' he said, `when I want it. They may reckon on that!'

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

On the day succeeding Isabella's unexpected visit I had no opportunity
of speaking to my master: he shunned conversation, and was fit for
discussing nothing. When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased
him that his sister had left her husband; whom he abhorred with an
intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to
allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion, that he refrained from
going anywhere where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff. Grief,
and that together, transformed him into a complete hermit: he threw
up his office of magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided
the village on all occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusion
within the limits of his park and grounds; only varied by solitary
rambles on the moors, and visits to the grave of his wife, mostly
at evening, or early morning before other wanderers were abroad. But
he was too good to be thoroughly unhappy long. \textit{He} didn't
pray for Catherine's soul to haunt him. Time brought resignation,
and a melancholy sweeter than common joy. He recalled her memory with
ardent, tender love, and hopeful aspiring to the better world; where
he doubted not she was gone.

And he had earthly consolation and affections also. For a few days,
I said, he seemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed:
that coldness melted as fast as snow in April, and ere the tiny thing
could stammer a word or totter a step it wielded a despot's sceptre
in his heart. It was named Catherine; but he never called it the name
in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short: probably
because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always
Cathy: it formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection
with her; and his attachment sprang from its relation to her, far
more than from its being his own.

I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and
perplex myself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so
opposite in similar circumstances. They had both been fond husbands,
and were both attached to their children; and I could not see how
they shouldn't both have taken the same road, for good or evil. But,
I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head,
has shown himself sadly the worse and the weaker man. When his ship
struck, the captain abandoned his post; and the crew, instead of trying
to save her, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their
luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage
of a loyal and faithful soul: he trusted God; and God comforted him.
One hoped, and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and
were righteously doomed to endure them. But you'll not want to hear
my moralising, Mr.\ Lockwood; you'll judge, as well as I can, all
these things: at least, you'll think you will, and that's the same.
The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected; it followed
fast on his sister's: there were scarcely six months between them.
We, at the Grange, never got a very succinct account of his state
preceding it; all that I did learn was on occasion of going to aid
in the preparations for the funeral. Mr.\ Kenneth came to announce
the event to my master.

`Well, Nelly,' said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early
not to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news, `it's yours
and my turn to go into mourning at present. Who's given us the slip
now, do you think?'

`Who?'\ I asked in a flurry.

`Why, guess!'\ he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle
on a hook by the door. `And nip up the corner of your apron: I'm certain
you'll need it.'

`Not Mr.\ Heathcliff, surely?'\ I exclaimed.

`What!\ would you have tears for him?'\ said the doctor. `No, Heathcliff's
a tough young fellow: he looks blooming to-day. I've just seen him.
He's rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his better half.'

`Who is it, then, Mr.\ Kenneth?'\ I repeated impatiently.

`Hindley Earnshaw! Your old friend Hindley,' he replied, `and my wicked
gossip: though he's been too wild for me this long while. There! I
said we should draw water. But cheer up! He died true to his character:
drunk as a lord. Poor lad! I'm sorry, too. One can't help missing
an old companion: though he had the worst tricks with him that ever
man imagined, and has done me many a rascally turn. He's barely twenty-seven,
it seems; that's your own age: who would have thought you were born
in one year?'

I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs.\ Linton's
death: ancient associations lingered round my heart; I sat down in
the porch and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr.\ Kenneth
to get another servant to introduce him to the master. I could not
hinder myself from pondering on the question---`Had he had fair play?'
Whatever I did, that idea would bother me: it was so tiresomely pertinacious
that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights, and
assist in the last duties to the dead. Mr.\ Linton was extremely
reluctant to consent, but I pleaded eloquently for the friendless
condition in which he lay; and I said my old master and foster-brother
had a claim on my services as strong as his own. Besides, I reminded
him that the child Hareton was his wife's nephew, and, in the absence
of nearer kin, he ought to act as its guardian; and he ought to and
must inquire how the property was left, and look over the concerns
of his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to such matters
then, but he bid me speak to his lawyer; and at length permitted me
to go. His lawyer had been Earnshaw's also: I called at the village,
and asked him to accompany me. He shook his head, and advised that
Heathcliff should be let alone; affirming, if the truth were known,
Hareton would be found little else than a beggar.

`His father died in debt,' he said; `the whole property is mortgaged,
and the sole chance for the natural heir is to allow him an opportunity
of creating some interest in the creditor's heart, that he may be
inclined to deal leniently towards him.'

When I reached the Heights, I explained that I had come to see everything
carried on decently; and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress,
expressed satisfaction at my presence. Mr.\ Heathcliff said he did
not perceive that I was wanted; but I might stay and order the arrangements
for the funeral, if I chose.

`Correctly,' he remarked, `that fool's body should he buried at the
cross-roads, without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him
ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened
the two doors of the house against me, and he has spent the night
in drinking himself to death deliberately! We broke in this morning,
for we heard him sporting like a horse; and there he was, laid over
the settle: flaying and scalping would not have wakened him. I sent
for Kenneth, and he came; but not till the beast had changed into
carrion: he was both dead and cold, and stark; and so you'll allow
it was useless making more stir about him!'

The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered:

`I'd rayther he'd goan hisseln for t' doctor! I sud ha,' taen tent
o' t' maister better nor him---and he warn't deead when I left, naught
o' t' soart!'

I insisted on the funeral being respectable. Mr.\ Heathcliff said
I might have my own way there too: only, he desired me to remember
that the money for the whole affair came out of his pocket. He maintained
a hard, careless deportment, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow:
if anything, it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult
work successfully executed. I observed once, indeed, something like
exultation in his aspect: it was just when the people were bearing
the coffin from the house. He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner:
and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate
child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, `Now, my
bonny lad, you are \textit{mine}! And we'll see if one tree won't
grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!' The unsuspecting
thing was pleased at this speech: he played with Heathcliff's whiskers,
and stroked his cheek; but I divined its meaning, and observed tartly,
`That boy must go back with me to Thrushcross Grange, sir. There is
nothing in the world less yours than he is!'

`Does Linton say so?'\ he demanded.

`Of course---he has ordered me to take him,' I replied.

`Well,' said the scoundrel, `we'll not argue the subject now: but
I have a fancy to try my hand at rearing a young one; so intimate
to your master that I must supply the place of this with my own, if
he attempt to remove it. I don't engage to let Hareton go undisputed;
but I'll be pretty sure to make the other come! Remember to tell him.'

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

The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights: he held firm possession,
and proved to the attorney---who, in his turn, proved it to Mr.\ Linton---that
Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned for cash to supply
his mania for gaming; and he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In that
manner Hareton, who should now be the first gentleman in the neighbourhood,
was reduced to a state of complete dependence on his father's inveterate
enemy; and lives in his own house as a servant, deprived of the advantage
of wages: quite unable to right himself, because of his friendlessness,
and his ignorance that he has been wronged.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XVIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XVIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XVIII}

The twelve years, continued Mrs.\ Dean, following that dismal period
were the happiest of my life: my greatest troubles in their passage
rose from our little lady's trifling illnesses, which she had to experience
in common with all children, rich and poor. For the rest, after the
first six months, she grew like a larch, and could walk and talk too,
in her own way, before the heath blossomed a second time over Mrs.\ Linton's
dust. She was the most winning thing that ever brought sunshine into
a desolate house: a real beauty in face, with the Earnshaws' handsome
dark eyes, but the Lintons' fair skin and small features, and yellow
curling hair. Her spirit was high, though not rough, and qualified
by a heart sensitive and lively to excess in its affections. That
capacity for intense attachments reminded me of her mother: still
she did not resemble her: for she could be soft and mild as a dove,
and she had a gentle voice and pensive expression: her anger was never
furious; her love never fierce: it was deep and tender. However, it
must be acknowledged, she had faults to foil her gifts. A propensity
to be saucy was one; and a perverse will, that indulged children invariably
acquire, whether they be good tempered or cross. If a servant chanced
to vex her, it was always---`I shall tell papa!' And if he reproved
her, even by a look, you would have thought it a heart-breaking business:
I don't believe he ever did speak a harsh word to her. He took her
education entirely on himself, and made it an amusement. Fortunately,
curiosity and a quick intellect made her an apt scholar: she learned
rapidly and eagerly, and did honour to his teaching.

Till she reached the age of thirteen she had not once been beyond
the range of the park by herself. Mr.\ Linton would take her with
him a mile or so outside, on rare occasions; but he trusted her to
no one else. Gimmerton was an unsubstantial name in her ears; the
chapel, the only building she had approached or entered, except her
own home. Wuthering Heights and Mr.\ Heathcliff did not exist for
her: she was a perfect recluse; and, apparently, perfectly contented.
Sometimes, indeed, while surveying the country from her nursery window,
she would observe---

`Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those
hills? I wonder what lies on the other side---is it the sea?'

`No, Miss Cathy,' I would answer; `it is hills again, just like these.'

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

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

`And why are they bright so long after it is evening here?'\ she
pursued.

`Because they are a great deal higher up than we are,' replied I;
`you could not climb them, they are too high and steep. In winter
the frost is always there before it comes to us; and deep into summer
I have found snow under that black hollow on the north-east side!'

`Oh, you have been on them!'\ she cried gleefully. `Then I can go,
too, when I am a woman. Has papa been, Ellen?'

`Papa would tell you, Miss,' I answered, hastily, `that they are not
worth the trouble of visiting. The moors, where you ramble with him,
are much nicer; and Thrushcross Park is the finest place in the world.'

`But I know the park, and I don't know those,' she murmured to herself.
`And I should delight to look round me from the brow of that tallest
point: my little pony Minny shall take me some time.'

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

I said Mrs.\ Heathcliff lived above a dozen years after quitting
her husband. Her family were of a delicate constitution: she and Edgar
both lacked the ruddy health that you will generally meet in these
parts. What her last illness was, I am not certain: I conjecture,
they died of the same thing, a kind of fever, slow at its commencement,
but incurable, and rapidly consuming life towards the close. She wrote
to inform her brother of the probable conclusion of a four-months'
indisposition under which she had suffered, and entreated him to come
to her, if possible; for she had much to settle, and she wished to
bid him adieu, and deliver Linton safely into his hands. Her hope
was that Linton might be left with him, as he had been with her: his
father, she would fain convince herself, had no desire to assume the
burden of his maintenance or education. My master hesitated not a
moment in complying with her request: reluctant as he was to leave
home at ordinary calls, he flew to answer this; commanding Catherine
to my peculiar vigilance, in his absence, with reiterated orders that
she must not wander out of the park, even under my escort he did not
calculate on her going unaccompanied.

He was away three weeks. The first day or two my charge sat in a corner
of the library, too sad for either reading or playing: in that quiet
state she caused me little trouble; but it was succeeded by an interval
of impatient, fretful weariness; and being too busy, and too old then,
to run up and down amusing her, I hit on a method by which she might
entertain herself. I used to send her on her travels round the grounds---now
on foot, and now on a pony; indulging her with a patient audience
of all her real and imaginary adventures when she returned.

The summer shone in full prime; and she took such a taste for this
solitary rambling that she often contrived to remain out from breakfast
till tea; and then the evenings were spent in recounting her fanciful
tales. I did not fear her breaking bounds; because the gates were
generally looked, and I thought she would scarcely venture forth alone,
if they had stood wide open. Unluckily, my confidence proved misplaced.
Catherine came to me, one morning, at eight o'clock, and said she
was that day an Arabian merchant, going to cross the Desert with his
caravan; and I must give her plenty of provision for herself and beasts:
a horse, and three camels, personated by a large hound and a couple
of pointers. I got together good store of dainties, and slung them
in a basket on one side of the saddle; and she sprang up as gay as
a fairy, sheltered by her wide-brimmed hat and gauze veil from the
July sun, and trotted off with a merry laugh, mocking my cautious
counsel to avoid galloping, and come back early. The naughty thing
never made her appearance at tea. One traveller, the hound, being
an old dog and fond of its ease, returned; but neither Cathy, nor
the pony, nor the two pointers were visible in any direction: I despatched
emissaries down this path, and that path, and at last went wandering
in search of her myself. There was a labourer working at a fence round
a plantation, on the borders of the grounds. I inquired of him if
he had seen our young lady.

`I saw her at morn,' he replied: `she would have me to cut her a hazel
switch, and then she leapt her Galloway over the hedge yonder, where
it is lowest, and galloped out of sight.'

You may guess how I felt at hearing this news. It struck me directly
she must have started for Penistone Crags. `What will become of her?'
I ejaculated, pushing through a gap which the man was repairing, and
making straight to the high-road. I walked as if for a wager, mile
after mile, till a turn brought me in view of the Heights; but no
Catherine could I detect, far or near. The Crags lie about a mile
and a half beyond Mr.\ Heathcliff's place, and that is four from
the Grange, so I began to fear night would fall ere I could reach
them. `And what if she should have slipped in clambering among them,'
I reflected, `and been killed, or broken some of her bones?' My suspense
was truly painful; and, at first, it gave me delightful relief to
observe, in hurrying by the farmhouse, Charlie, the fiercest of the
pointers, lying under a window, with swelled head and bleeding ear.
I opened the wicket and ran to the door, knocking vehemently for admittance.
A woman whom I knew, and who formerly lived at Gimmerton, answered:
she had been servant there since the death of Mr.\ Earnshaw.

`Ah,' said she, `you are come a-seeking your little mistress! Don't
be frightened. She's here safe: but I'm glad it isn't the master.'

`He is not at home then, is he?'\ I panted, quite breathless with
quick walking and alarm.

`No, no,' she replied: `both he and Joseph are off, and I think they
won't return this hour or more. Step in and rest you a bit.'

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

`Very well, Miss!'\ I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angry
countenance. `This is your last ride, till papa comes back. I'll not
trust you over the threshold again, you naughty, naughty girl!'

`Aha, Ellen!'\ she cried, gaily, jumping up and running to my side.
`I shall have a pretty story to tell to-night; and so you've found
me out. Have you ever been here in your life before?'

`Put that hat on, and home at once,' said I. `I'm dreadfully grieved
at you, Miss Cathy: you've done extremely wrong! It's no use pouting
and crying: that won't repay the trouble I've had, scouring the country
after you. To think how Mr.\ Linton charged me to keep you in; and
you stealing off so! It shows you are a cunning little fox, and nobody
will put faith in you any more.'

`What have I done?'\ sobbed she, instantly checked. `Papa charged
me nothing: he'll not scold me, Ellen---he's never cross, like you!'

`Come, come!'\ I repeated. `I'll tie the riband. Now, let us have
no petulance. Oh, for shame! You thirteen years old, and such a baby!'

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

`Nay,' said the servant, `don't be hard on the bonny lass, Mrs.\ Dean.
We made her stop: she'd fain have ridden forwards, afeard you should
be uneasy. Hareton offered to go with her, and I thought he should:
it's a wild road over the hills.'

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

`How long am I to wait?'\ I continued, disregarding the woman's interference.
`It will be dark in ten minutes. Where is the pony, Miss Cathy? And
where is Phoenix? I shall leave you, unless you be quick; so please
yourself.'

`The pony is in the yard,' she replied, `and Phoenix is shut in there.
He's bitten---and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all about
it; but you are in a bad temper, and don't deserve to hear.'

I picked up her hat, and approached to reinstate it; but perceiving
that the people of the house took her part, she commenced capering
round the room; and on my giving chase, ran like a mouse over and
under and behind the furniture, rendering it ridiculous for me to
pursue. Hareton and the woman laughed, and she joined them, and waxed
more impertinent still; till I cried, in great irritation,---`Well,
Miss Cathy, if you were aware whose house this is you'd be glad enough
to get out.'

`It's \textit{your} father's, isn't it?'\ said she, turning to Hareton.

`Nay,' he replied, looking down, and blushing bashfully.

He could not stand a steady gaze from her eyes, though they were just
his own.

`Whose then---your master's?'\ she asked.

He coloured deeper, with a different feeling, muttered an oath, and
turned away.

`Who is his master?'\ continued the tiresome girl, appealing to me.
`He talked about {}``our house,'' and {}``our folk.'' I thought
he had been the owner's son. And he never said Miss: he should have
done, shouldn't he, if he's a servant?'

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

`Now, get my horse,' she said, addressing her unknown kinsman as she
would one of the stable-boys at the Grange. `And you may come with
me. I want to see where the goblin-hunter rises in the marsh, and
to hear about the \emph{fairishes}, as you call them: but make haste!
What's the matter? Get my horse, I say.'

`I'll see thee damned before I be \textit{thy} servant!'\ growled
the lad.

{}``You'll see me \textit{what}!'\ asked Catherine in surprise.

`Damned---thou saucy witch!'\ he replied.

`There, Miss Cathy!\ you see you have got into pretty company,' I
interposed. `Nice words to be used to a young lady! Pray don't begin
to dispute with him. Come, let us seek for Minny ourselves, and begone.'

`But, Ellen,' cried she, staring fixed in astonishment, `how dare
he speak so to me? Mustn't he be made to do as I ask him? You wicked
creature, I shall tell papa what you said.---Now, then!'

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

`Softly, Miss,' answered she addressed: `you'll lose nothing by being
civil. Though Mr.\ Hareton, there, be not the master's son, he's
your cousin: and I was never hired to serve you.'

`\textit{He} my cousin!'\ cried Cathy, with a scornful laugh.

`Yes, indeed,' responded her reprover.

`Oh, Ellen!\ don't let them say such things,' she pursued in great
trouble. `Papa is gone to fetch my cousin from London: my cousin is
a gentleman's son. That my---' she stopped, and wept outright; upset
at the bare notion of relationship with such a clown.

`Hush, hush!'\ I whispered; `people can have many cousins and of
all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they
needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad.'

`He's not---he's not my cousin, Ellen!'\ she went on, gathering fresh
grief from reflection, and flinging herself into my arms for refuge
from the idea.

I was much vexed at her and the servant for their mutual revelations;
having no doubt of Linton's approaching arrival, communicated by the
former, being reported to Mr.\ Heathcliff; and feeling as confident
that Catherine's first thought on her father's return would be to
seek an explanation of the latter's assertion concerning her rude-bred
kindred. Hareton, recovering from his disgust at being taken for a
servant, seemed moved by her distress; and, having fetched the pony
round to the door, he took, to propitiate her, a fine crooked-legged
terrier whelp from the kennel, and putting it into her hand, bid her
whist!\ for he meant nought. Pausing in her lamentations, she surveyed
him with a glance of awe and horror, then burst forth anew.

I could scarcely refrain from smiling at this antipathy to the poor
fellow; who was a well-made, athletic youth, good-looking in features,
and stout and healthy, but attired in garments befitting his daily
occupations of working on the farm and lounging among the moors after
rabbits and game. Still, I thought I could detect in his physiognomy
a mind owning better qualities than his father ever possessed. Good
things lost amid a wilderness of weeds, to be sure, whose rankness
far over-topped their neglected growth; yet, notwithstanding, evidence
of a wealthy soil, that might yield luxuriant crops under other and
favourable circumstances. Mr.\ Heathcliff, I believe, had not treated
him physically ill; thanks to his fearless nature, which offered no
temptation to that course of oppression: he had none of the timid
susceptibility that would have given zest to ill-treatment, in Heathcliff's
judgment. He appeared to have bent his malevolence on making him a
brute: he was never taught to read or write; never rebuked for any
bad habit which did not annoy his keeper; never led a single step
towards virtue, or guarded by a single precept against vice. And from
what I heard, Joseph contributed much to his deterioration, by a narrow-minded
partiality which prompted him to flatter and pet him, as a boy, because
he was the head of the old family. And as he had been in the habit
of accusing Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, when children, of putting
the master past his patience, and compelling him to seek solace in
drink by what he termed their `offald ways,' so at present he laid
the whole burden of Hareton's faults on the shoulders of the usurper
of his property. If the lad swore, he wouldn't correct him: nor however
culpably he behaved. It gave Joseph satisfaction, apparently, to watch
him go the worst lengths: he allowed that the lad was ruined: that
his soul was abandoned to perdition; but then he reflected that Heathcliff
must answer for it. Hareton's blood would be required at his hands;
and there lay immense consolation in that thought. Joseph had instilled
into him a pride of name, and of his lineage; he would, had he dared,
have fostered hate between him and the present owner of the Heights:
but his dread of that owner amounted to superstition; and he confined
his feelings regarding him to muttered innuendoes and private comminations.
I don't pretend to be intimately acquainted with the mode of living
customary in those days at Wuthering Heights: I only speak from hearsay;
for I saw little. The villagers affirmed Mr.\ Heathcliff was \textit{near},
and a cruel hard landlord to his tenants; but the house, inside, had
regained its ancient aspect of comfort under female management, and
the scenes of riot common in Hindley's time were not now enacted within
its walls. The master was too gloomy to seek companionship with any
people, good or bad; and he is yet.

This, however, is not making progress with my story. Miss Cathy rejected
the peace-offering of the terrier, and demanded her own dogs, Charlie
and Phoenix. They came limping and hanging their heads; and we set
out for home, sadly out of sorts, every one of us. I could not wring
from my little lady how she had spent the day; except that, as I supposed,
the goal of her pilgrimage was Penistone Crags; and she arrived without
adventure to the gate of the farm-house, when Hareton happened to
issue forth, attended by some canine followers, who attacked her train.
They had a smart battle, before their owners could separate them:
that formed an introduction. Catherine told Hareton who she was, and
where she was going; and asked him to show her the way: finally, beguiling
him to accompany her. He opened the mysteries of the Fairy Cave, and
twenty other queer places. But, being in disgrace, I was not favoured
with a description of the interesting objects she saw. I could gather,
however, that her guide had been a favourite till she hurt his feelings
by addressing him as a servant; and Heathcliff's housekeeper hurt
hers by calling him her cousin. Then the language he had held to her
rankled in her heart; she who was always `love,' and `darling,' and
`queen,' and `angel,' with everybody at the Grange, to be insulted
so shockingly by a stranger! She did not comprehend it; and hard work
I had to obtain a promise that she would not lay the grievance before
her father. I explained how he objected to the whole household at
the Heights, and how sorry he would be to find she had been there;
but I insisted most on the fact, that if she revealed my negligence
of his orders, he would perhaps be so angry that I should have to
leave; and Cathy couldn't bear that prospect: she pledged her word,
and kept it for my sake. After all, she was a sweet little girl.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XIX}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XIX}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{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,
and arrange a room, and other accommodations, for his youthful nephew.
Catherine ran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back;
and indulged most sanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies
of her `real' cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came.
Since early morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs;
and now attired in her new black frock---poor thing!\ her aunt's
death impressed her with no definite sorrow---she obliged me, by constant
worrying, to walk with her down through the grounds to meet them.

`Linton is just six months younger than I am,' she chattered, as we
strolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under
shadow of the trees. `How delightful it will be to have him for a
playfellow! Aunt Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair;
it was lighter than mine---more flaxen, and quite as fine. I have
it carefully preserved in a little glass box; and I've often thought
what a pleasure it would be to see its owner. Oh! I am happy---and
papa, dear, dear papa! Come, Ellen, let us run!\ come, run.'

She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footsteps
reached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy bank beside
the path, and tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible: she
couldn't be still a minute.

`How long they are!'\ she exclaimed. `Ah, I see, some dust on the
road---they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go
a little way---half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say Yes:
to that clump of birches at the turn!'

I refused staunchly. At length her suspense was ended: the travelling
carriage rolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her
arms as soon as she caught her father's face looking from the window.
He descended, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable interval
elapsed ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. While
they exchanged caresses I took a peep in to see after Linton. He was
asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had
been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been
taken for my master's younger brother, so strong was the resemblance:
but there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton
never had. The latter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised
me to close the door, and leave him undisturbed; for the journey had
fatigued him. Cathy would fain have taken one glance, but her father
told her to come, and they walked together up the park, while I hastened
before to prepare the servants.

`Now, darling,' said Mr.\ Linton, addressing his daughter, as they
halted at the bottom of the front steps: `your cousin is not so strong
or so merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very
short time since; therefore, don't expect him to play and run about
with you directly. And don't harass him much by talking: let him be
quiet this evening, at least, will you?'

`Yes, yes, papa,' answered Catherine: `but I do want to see him; and
he hasn't once looked out.'

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

`This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,' he said, putting their little
hands together. `She's fond of you already; and mind you don't grieve
her by crying to-night. Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is
at an end, and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself
as you please.'

`Let me go to bed, then,' answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine's
salute; and he put his fingers to remove incipient tears.

`Come, come, there's a good child,' I whispered, leading him in. `You'll
make her weep too---see how sorry she is for you!'

I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on
as sad a countenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three
entered, and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded
to remove Linton's cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the
table; but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My
master inquired what was the matter.

`I can't sit on a chair,' sobbed the boy.

`Go to the sofa, then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea,' answered
his uncle patiently.

He had been greatly tried, during the journey, I felt convinced, by
his fretful ailing charge. Linton slowly trailed himself off, and
lay down. Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to his side. At first
she sat silent; but that could not last: she had resolved to make
a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be; and she commenced
stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in
her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better:
he dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.

`Oh, he'll do very well,' said the master to me, after watching them
a minute. `Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a
child of his own age will instil new spirit into him soon, and by
wishing for strength he'll gain it.'

`Ay, if we can keep him!'\ I mused to myself; and sore misgivings
came over me that there was slight hope of that. And then, I thought,
how ever will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights? Between his
father and Hareton, what playmates and instructors they'll be. Our
doubts were presently decided---even earlier than I expected. I had
just taken the children up-stairs, after tea was finished, and seen
Linton asleep---he would not suffer me to leave him till that was
the case---I had come down, and was standing by the table in the hall,
lighting a bedroom candle for Mr.\ Edgar, when a maid stepped out
of the kitchen and informed me that Mr.\ Heathcliff's servant Joseph
was at the door, and wished to speak with the master.

`I shall ask him what he wants first,' I said, in considerable trepidation.
`A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the instant they
have returned from a long journey. I don't think the master can see
him.'

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

`Good-evening, Joseph,' I said, coldly. `What business brings you
here to-night?'

`It's Maister Linton I mun spake to,' he answered, waving me disdainfully
aside.

`Mr.\ Linton is going to bed; unless you have something particular
to say, I'm sure he won't hear it now,' I continued. `You had better
sit down in there, and entrust your message to me.'

`Which is his rahm?'\ pursued the fellow, surveying the range of
closed doors.

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

`Hathecliff has sent me for his lad, and I munn't goa back 'bout him.'

Edgar Linton was silent a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrow
overcast his features: he would have pitied the child on his own account;
but, recalling Isabella's hopes and fears, and anxious wishes for
her son, and her commendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly
at the prospect of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how
it might be avoided. No plan offered itself: the very exhibition of
any desire to keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory:
there was nothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going
to rouse him from his sleep.

`Tell Mr.\ Heathcliff,' he answered calmly, `that his son shall come
to Wuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go
the distance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton
desired him to remain under my guardianship; and, at present, his
health is very precarious.'

`Noa!'\ said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and
assuming an authoritative air. `Noa!\ that means naught. Hathecliff
maks noa `count o' t' mother, nor ye norther; but he'll heu' his lad;
und I mun tak' him---soa now ye knaw!'

`You shall not to-night!'\ answered Linton decisively. `Walk down
stairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen,
show him down. Go---'

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

`Varrah weell!'\ shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. `To-morn,
he's come hisseln, and thrust \textit{him} out, if ye darr!'


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XX}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XX}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XX}

To obviate the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr.\ Linton
commissioned me to take the boy home early, on Catherine's pony; and,
said he---`As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good
or bad, you must say nothing of where he is gone to my daughter: she
cannot associate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain
in ignorance of his proximity; lest she should be restless, and anxious
to visit the Heights. Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly,
and he has been obliged to leave us.'

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

`My father!'\ he cried, in strange perplexity. `Mamma never told
me I had a father. Where does he live? I'd rather stay with uncle.'

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

`But why have I not heard of him before?'\ asked Linton. `Why didn't
mamma and he live together, as other people do?'

`He had business to keep him in the north,' I answered, `and your
mother's health required her to reside in the south.'

`And why didn't mamma speak to me about him?'\ persevered the child.
`She often talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago. How
am I to love papa? I don't know him.'

`Oh, all children love their parents,' I said. `Your mother, perhaps,
thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to
you. Let us make haste. An early ride on such a beautiful morning
is much preferable to an hour's more sleep.'

`Is \textit{she} to go with us,' he demanded, `the little girl I saw
yesterday?'

`Not now,' replied I.

`Is uncle?'\ he continued.

`No, I shall be your companion there,' I said.

Linton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown study.

`I won't go without uncle,' he cried at length: `I can't tell where
you mean to take me.'

I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance
to meet his father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards
dressing, and I had to call for my master's assistance in coaxing
him out of bed. The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive
assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr.\ Edgar and
Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which
I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way. The pure
heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of
Minny, relieved his despondency after a while. He began to put questions
concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest
and liveliness.

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

`It is not so buried in trees,' I replied, `and it is not quite so
large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the
air is healthier for you---fresher and drier. You will, perhaps, think
the building old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house:
the next best in the neighbourhood. And you will have such nice rambles
on the moors. Hareton Earnshaw---that is, Miss Cathy's other cousin,
and so yours in a manner---will show you all the sweetest spots; and
you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your
study; and, now and then, your uncle may join you in a walk: he does,
frequently, walk out on the hills.'

`And what is my father like?'\ he asked. `Is he as young and handsome
as uncle?'

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

`Black hair and eyes!'\ mused Linton. `I can't fancy him. Then I
am not like him, am I?'

`Not much,' I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret
the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large
languid eyes---his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness
kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.

`How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!'\ he
murmured. `Has he ever seen me? If he has, I must have been a baby.
I remember not a single thing about him!'

`Why, Master Linton,' said I, `three hundred miles is a great distance;
and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up person compared
with what they do to you. It is probable Mr.\ Heathcliff proposed
going from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity;
and now it is too late. Don't trouble him with questions on the subject:
it will disturb him, for no good.'

The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder
of the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden-gate. I watched
to catch his impressions in his countenance. He surveyed the carved
front and low-browed lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and
crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head: his
private feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of his new abode.
But he had sense to postpone complaining: there might be compensation
within. Before he dismounted, I went and opened the door. It was half-past
six; the family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing
and wiping down the table. Joseph stood by his master's chair telling
some tale concerning a lame horse; and Hareton was preparing for the
hayfield.

`Hallo, Nelly!'\ said Mr.\ Heathcliff, when he saw me. `I feared
I should have to come down and fetch my property myself. You've brought
it, have you? Let us see what we can make of it.'

He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed in gaping
curiosity. Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the
three.

`Sure-ly,' said Joseph after a grave inspection, `he's swopped wi'
ye, Maister, an' yon's his lass!'

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

`God!\ what a beauty!\ what a lovely, charming thing!'\ he exclaimed.
`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 knows I was
not sanguine!'

I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down, and enter. He did
not thoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father's speech, or whether
it were intended for him: indeed, he was not yet certain that the
grim, sneering stranger was his father. But he clung to me with growing
trepidation; and on Mr.\ Heathcliff's taking a seat and bidding him
`come hither' he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.

`Tut, tut!'\ said Heathcliff, stretching out a hand and dragging
him roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the
chin. `None of that nonsense! We're not going to hurt thee, Linton---isn't
that thy name? Thou art thy mother's child, entirely! Where is my
share in thee, puling chicken?'

He took off the boy's cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls,
felt his slender arms and his small fingers; during which examination
Linton ceased crying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the
inspector.

`Do you know me?'\ asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that
the limbs were all equally frail and feeble.

`No,' said Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear.

`You've heard of me, I daresay?'

`No,' he replied again.

`No! What a shame of your mother, never to waken your filial regard
for me! You are my son, then, I'll tell you; and your mother was a
wicked slut to leave you in ignorance of the sort of father you possessed.
Now, don't wince, and colour up! Though it is something to see you
have not white blood. Be a good lad; and I'll do for you. Nelly, if
you be tired you may sit down; if not, get home again. I guess you'll
report what you hear and see to the cipher at the Grange; and this
thing won't be settled while you linger about it.'

`Well,' replied I, `I hope you'll be kind to the boy, Mr.\ Heathcliff,
or you'll not keep him long; and he's all you have akin in the wide
world, that you will ever know---remember.'

`I'll be very kind to him, you needn't fear,' he said, laughing. `Only
nobody else must be kind to him: I'm jealous of monopolising his affection.
And, to begin my kindness, Joseph, bring the lad some breakfast. Hareton,
you infernal calf, begone to your work. Yes, Nell,' he added, when
they had departed, `my son is prospective owner of your place, and
I should not wish him to die till I was certain of being his successor.
Besides, he's \textit{mine}, and I want the triumph of seeing \textit{my}
descendant fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children
to till their fathers' lands for wages. That is the sole consideration
which can make me endure the whelp: I despise him for himself, and
hate him for the memories he revives! But that consideration is sufficient:
he's as safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master
tends his own. I have a room up-stairs, furnished for him in handsome
style; I've engaged a tutor, also, to come three times a week, from
twenty miles' distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn. I've
ordered Hareton to obey him: and in fact I've arranged everything
with a view to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above
his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the
trouble: if I wished any blessing in the world, it was to find him
a worthy object of pride; and I'm bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced,
whining wretch!'

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

`Cannot ate it?'\ repeated he, peering in Linton's face, and subduing
his voice to a whisper, for fear of being overheard. `But Maister
Hareton nivir ate naught else, when he wer a little 'un; and what
wer gooid enough for him's gooid enough for ye, I's rayther think!'

`I \textit{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 the tray
under Heathcliff's nose.

`What should ail them?'\ he said.

`Wah!'\ answered Joseph, `yon dainty chap says he cannut ate 'em.
But I guess it's raight! His mother wer just soa---we wer a'most too
mucky to sow t' corn for makking her breead.'

`Don't mention his mother to me,' said the master, angrily. `Get him
something that he can eat, that's all. What is his usual food, Nelly?'

I suggested boiled milk or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions
to prepare some. Come, I reflected, his father's selfishness may contribute
to his comfort. He perceives his delicate constitution, and the necessity
of treating him tolerably. I'll console Mr.\ Edgar by acquainting
him with the turn Heathcliff's humour has taken. Having no excuse
for lingering longer, I slipped out, while Linton was engaged in timidly
rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog. But he was too much
on the alert to be cheated: as I closed the door, I heard a cry, and
a frantic repetition of the words---

`Don't leave me! I'll not stay here! I'll not stay here!'

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


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXI}

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

When I chanced to encounter the housekeeper of Wuthering Heights,
in paying business visits to Gimmerton, I used to ask how the young
master got on; for he lived almost as secluded as Catherine herself,
and was never to be seen. I could gather from her that he continued
in weak health, and was a tiresome inmate. She said Mr.\ Heathcliff
seemed to dislike him ever longer and worse, though he took some trouble
to conceal it: he had an antipathy to the sound of his voice, and
could not do at all with his sitting in the same room with him many
minutes together. There seldom passed much talk between them: Linton
learnt his lessons and spent his evenings in a small apartment they
called the parlour: or else lay in bed all day: for he was constantly
getting coughs, and colds, and aches, and pains of some sort.

`And I never know such a fainthearted creature,' added the woman;
`nor one so careful of hisseln. He \textit{will} go on, if I leave
the window open a bit late in the evening. Oh!\ it's killing, a breath
of night air! And he must have a fire in the middle of summer; and
Joseph's bacca-pipe is poison; and he must always have sweets and
dainties, and always milk, milk for ever---heeding naught how the
rest of us are pinched in winter; and there he'll sit, wrapped in
his furred cloak in his chair by the fire, with some toast and water
or other slop on the hob to sip at; and if Hareton, for pity, comes
to amuse him---Hareton is not bad-natured, though he's rough---they're
sure to part, one swearing and the other crying. I believe the master
would relish Earnshaw's thrashing him to a mummy, if he were not his
son; and I'm certain he would be fit to turn him out of doors, if
he knew half the nursing he gives hisseln. But then he won't go into
danger of temptation: he never enters the parlour, and should Linton
show those ways in the house where he is, he sends him up-stairs directly.'

I divined, from this account, that utter lack of sympathy had rendered
young Heathcliff selfish and disagreeable, if he were not so originally;
and my interest in him, consequently, decayed: though still I was
moved with a sense of grief at his lot, and a wish that he had been
left with us. Mr.\ Edgar encouraged me to gain information: he thought
a great deal about him, I fancy, and would have run some risk to see
him; and he told me once to ask the housekeeper whether he ever came
into the village? She said he had only been twice, on horseback, accompanying
his father; and both times he pretended to be quite knocked up for
three or four days afterwards. That housekeeper left, if I recollect
rightly, two years after he came; and another, whom I did not know,
was her successor; she lives there still.

Time wore on at the Grange in its former pleasant way till Miss Cathy
reached sixteen. On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested
any signs of rejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my
late mistress's death. Her father invariably spent that day alone
in the library; and walked, at dusk, as far as Gimmerton kirkyard,
where he would frequently prolong his stay beyond midnight. Therefore
Catherine was thrown on her own resources for amusement. This twentieth
of March was a beautiful spring day, and when her father had retired,
my young lady came down dressed for going out, and said she asked
to have a ramble on the edge of the moor with me: Mr.\ Linton had
given her leave, if we went only a short distance and were back within
the hour.

`So make haste, Ellen!'\ she cried. `I know where I wish to go; where
a colony of moor-game are settled: I want to see whether they have
made their nests yet.'

`That must be a good distance up,' I answered; `they don't breed on
the edge of the moor.'

`No, it's not,' she said. `I've gone very near with papa.'

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

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

`Oh, a little further---only a little further, Ellen,' was her answer,
continually. `Climb to that hillock, pass that bank, and by the time
you reach the other side I shall have raised the birds.'

But there were so many hillocks and banks to climb and pass, that,
at length, I began to be weary, and told her we must halt, and retrace
our steps. I shouted to her, as she had outstripped me a long way;
she either did not hear or did not regard, for she still sprang on,
and I was compelled to follow. Finally, she dived into a hollow; and
before I came in sight of her again, she was two miles nearer Wuthering
Heights than her own home; and I beheld a couple of persons arrest
her, one of whom I felt convinced was Mr.\ Heathcliff himself.

Cathy had been caught in the fact of plundering, or, at least, hunting
out the nests of the grouse. The Heights were Heathcliff's land, and
he was reproving the poacher.

`I've neither taken any nor found any,' she said, as I toiled to them,
expanding her hands in corroboration of the statement. `I didn't mean
to take them; but papa told me there were quantities up here, and
I wished to see the eggs.'

Heathcliff glanced at me with an ill-meaning smile, expressing his
acquaintance with the party, and, consequently, his malevolence towards
it, and demanded who `papa' was?

`Mr.\ Linton of Thrushcross Grange,' she replied. `I thought you
did not know me, or you wouldn't have spoken in that way.'

`You suppose papa is highly esteemed and respected, then?'\ he said,
sarcastically.

`And what are you?'\ inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on the
speaker. `That man I've seen before. Is he your son?'

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

`Miss Cathy,' I interrupted, `it will be three hours instead of one
that we are out, presently. We really must go back.'

`No, that man is not my son,' answered Heathcliff, pushing me aside.
`But I have one, and you have seen him before too; and, though your
nurse is in a hurry, I think both you and she would be the better
for a little rest. Will you just turn this nab of heath, and walk
into my house? You'll get home earlier for the ease; and you shall
receive a kind welcome.'

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

`Why?'\ she asked, aloud. `I'm tired of running, and the ground is
dewy: I can't sit here. Let us go, Ellen. Besides, he says I have
seen his son. He's mistaken, I think; but I guess where he lives:
at the farmhouse I visited in coming from Penistone' Crags. Don't
you?'

`I do. Come, Nelly, hold your tongue---it will he a treat for her
to look in on us. Hareton, get forwards with the lass. You shall walk
with me, Nelly.'

`No, she's not going to any such place,' I cried, struggling to release
my arm, which he had seized: but she was almost at the door-stones
already, scampering round the brow at full speed. Her appointed companion
did not pretend to escort her: he shied off by the road-side, and
vanished.

`Mr.\ Heathcliff, it's very wrong,' I continued: `you know you mean
no good. And there she'll see Linton, and all will be told as soon
as ever we return; and I shall have the blame.'

`I want her to see Linton,' he answered; `he's looking better these
few days; it's not often he's fit to be seen. And we'll soon persuade
her to keep the visit secret: where is the harm of it?'

`The harm of it is, that her father would hate me if he found I suffered
her to enter your house; and I am convinced you have a bad design
in encouraging her to do so,' I replied.

`My design is as honest as possible. I'll inform you of its whole
scope,' he said. `That the two cousins may fall in love, and get married.
I'm acting generously to your master: his young chit has no expectations,
and should she second my wishes she'll be provided for at once as
joint successor with Linton.'

`If Linton died,' I answered, `and his life is quite uncertain, Catherine
would be the heir.'

`No, she would not,' he said. `There is no clause in the will to secure
it so: his property would go to me; but, to prevent disputes, I desire
their union, and am resolved to bring it about.'

`And I'm resolved she shall never approach your house with me again,'
I returned, as we reached the gate, where Miss Cathy waited our coming.

Heathcliff bade me be quiet; and, preceding us up the path, hastened
to open the door. My young lady gave him several looks, as if she
could not exactly make up her mind what to think of him; but now he
smiled when he met her eye, and softened his voice in addressing her;
and I was foolish enough to imagine the memory of her mother might
disarm him from desiring her injury. Linton stood on the hearth. He
had been out walking in the fields, for his cap was on, and he was
calling to Joseph to bring him dry shoes. He had grown tall of his
age, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty
yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though
with merely temporary lustre borrowed from the salubrious air and
genial sun.

`Now, who is that?'\ asked Mr.\ Heathcliff, turning to Cathy. `Can
you tell?'

`Your son?'\ she said, having doubtfully surveyed, first one and
then the other.

`Yes, yes,' answered he: `but is this the only time you have beheld
him? Think! Ah!\ you have a short memory. Linton, don't you recall
your cousin, that you used to tease us so with wishing to see?'

`What, Linton!'\ cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at the
name. `Is that little Linton? He's taller than I am! Are you Linton?'

The youth stepped forward, and acknowledged himself: she kissed him
fervently, and they gazed with wonder at the change time had wrought
in the appearance of each. Catherine had reached her full height;
her figure was both plump and slender, elastic as steel, and her whole
aspect sparkling with health and spirits. Linton's looks and movements
were very languid, and his form extremely slight; but there was a
grace in his manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him
not unpleasing. After exchanging numerous marks of fondness with him,
his cousin went to Mr.\ Heathcliff, who lingered by the door, dividing
his attention between the objects inside and those that lay without:
pretending, that is, to observe the latter, and really noting the
former alone.

`And you are my uncle, then!'\ she cried, reaching up to salute him.
`I thought I liked you, though you were cross at first. Why don't
you visit at the Grange with Linton? To live all these years such
close neighbours, and never see us, is odd: what have you done so
for?'

`I visited it once or twice too often before you were born,' he answered.
`There---damn it! If you have any kisses to spare, give them to Linton:
they are thrown away on me.'

`Naughty Ellen!'\ exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next with
her lavish caresses. `Wicked Ellen!\ to try to hinder me from entering.
But I'll take this walk every morning in future: may I, uncle? and
sometimes bring papa. Won't you be glad to see us?'

`Of course,' replied the uncle, with a hardly suppressed grimace,
resulting from his deep aversion to both the proposed visitors. `But
stay,' he continued, turning towards the young lady. `Now I think
of it, I'd better tell you. Mr.\ Linton has a prejudice against me:
we quarrelled at one time of our lives, with unchristian ferocity;
and, if you mention coming here to him, he'll put a veto on your visits
altogether. Therefore, you must not mention it, unless you be careless
of seeing your cousin hereafter: you may come, if you will, but you
must not mention it.'

`Why did you quarrel?'\ asked Catherine, considerably crestfallen.

`He thought me too poor to wed his sister,' answered Heathcliff, `and
was grieved that I got her: his pride was hurt, and he'll never forgive
it.'

`That's wrong!'\ said the young lady: `some time I'll tell him so.
But Linton and I have no share in your quarrel. I'll not come here,
then; he shall come to the Grange.'

`It will be too far for me,' murmured her cousin: `to walk four miles
would kill me. No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then: not every
morning, but once or twice a week.'

The father launched towards his son a glance of bitter contempt.

`I am afraid, Nelly, I shall lose my labour,' he muttered to me. `Miss
Catherine, as the ninny calls her, will discover his value, and send
him to the devil. Now, if it had been Hareton!---Do you know that,
twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation? I'd
have loved the lad had he been some one else. But I think he's safe
from \textit{her} love. I'll pit him against that paltry creature,
unless it bestir itself briskly. We calculate it will scarcely last
till it is eighteen. Oh, confound the vapid thing! He's absorbed in
drying his feet, and never looks at her.---Linton!'

`Yes, father,' answered the boy.

`Have you nothing to show your cousin anywhere about, not even a rabbit
or a weasel's nest? Take her into the garden, before you change your
shoes; and into the stable to see your horse.'

`Wouldn't you rather sit here?'\ asked Linton, addressing Cathy in
a tone which expressed reluctance to move again.

`I don't know,' she replied, casting a longing look to the door, and
evidently eager to be active.

He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire. Heathcliff rose,
and went into the kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out
for Hareton. Hareton responded, and presently the two re-entered.
The young man had been washing himself, as was visible by the glow
on his cheeks and his wetted hair.

`Oh, I'll ask \textit{you}, uncle,' cried Miss Cathy, recollecting
the housekeeper's assertion. `That is not my cousin, is he?'

`Yes,' he, replied, `your mother's nephew. Don't you like him!'

Catherine looked queer.

`Is he not a handsome lad?'\ he continued.

The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence
in Heathcliff's ear. He laughed; Hareton darkened: I perceived he
was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion
of his inferiority. But his master or guardian chased the frown by
exclaiming---

`You'll be the favourite among us, Hareton! She says you are a---What
was it? Well, something very flattering. Here!\ you go with her round
the farm. And behave like a gentleman, mind! Don't use any bad words;
and don't stare when the young lady is not looking at you, and be
ready to hide your face when she is; and, when you speak, say your
words slowly, and keep your hands out of your pockets. Be off, and
entertain her as nicely as you can.'

He watched the couple walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenance
completely averted from his companion. He seemed studying the familiar
landscape with a stranger's and an artist's interest. Catherine took
a sly look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned her
attention to seeking out objects of amusement for herself, and tripped
merrily on, lilting a tune to supply the lack of conversation.

`I've tied his tongue,' observed Heathcliff. `He'll not venture a
single syllable all the time! Nelly, you recollect meat his age---nay,
some years younger. Did I ever look so stupid: so {}``gaumless,''
as Joseph calls it?'

`Worse,' I replied, `because more sullen with it.'

`I've a pleasure in him,' he continued, reflecting aloud. `He has
satisfied my expectations. If he were a born fool I should not enjoy
it half so much. But he's no fool; and I can sympathise with all his
feelings, having felt them myself. I know what he suffers now, for
instance, exactly: it is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer,
though. And he'll never be able to emerge from his bathos of coarseness
and ignorance. I've got him faster than his scoundrel of a father
secured me, and lower; for he takes a pride in his brutishness. I've
taught him to scorn everything extra-animal as silly and weak. Don't
you think Hindley would be proud of his son, if he could see him?
almost as proud as I am of mine. But there's this difference; one
is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished
to ape a service of silver. \textit{Mine} has nothing valuable about
it; yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor
stuff can go. \textit{His} had first-rate qualities, and they are
lost: rendered worse than unavailing. I have nothing to regret; he
would have more than any but I are aware of. And the best of it is,
Hareton is damnably fond of me! You'll own that I've outmatched Hindley
there. If the dead villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for
his offspring's wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing the said offspring
fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail at the
one friend he has in the world!'

Heathcliff chuckled a fiendish laugh at the idea. I made no reply,
because I saw that he expected none. Meantime, our young companion,
who sat too removed from us to hear what was said, began to evince
symptoms of uneasiness, probably repenting that he had denied himself
the treat of Catherine's society for fear of a little fatigue. His
father remarked the restless glances wandering to the window, and
the hand irresolutely extended towards his cap.

`Get up, you idle boy!'\ he exclaimed, with assumed heartiness.

`Away after them!\ they are just at the corner, by the stand of hives.'

Linton gathered his energies, and left the hearth. The lattice was
open, and, as he stepped out, I heard Cathy inquiring of her unsociable
attendant what was that inscription over the door? Hareton stared
up, and scratched his head like a true clown.

`It's some damnable writing,' he answered. `I cannot read it.'

`Can't read it?'\ cried Catherine; `I can read it: it's English.
But I want to know why it is there.'

Linton giggled: the first appearance of mirth he had exhibited.

`He does not know his letters,' he said to his cousin. `Could you
believe in the existence of such a colossal dunce?'

`Is he all as he should be?'\ asked Miss Cathy, seriously; `or is
he simple: not right? I've questioned him twice now, and each time
he looked so stupid I think he does not understand me. I can hardly
understand him, I'm sure!'

Linton repeated his laugh, and glanced at Hareton tauntingly; who
certainly did not seem quite clear of comprehension at that moment.

`There's nothing the matter but laziness; is there, Earnshaw?'\ he
said. `My cousin fancies you are an idiot. There you experience the
consequence of scorning {}``book-larning,'' as you would say. Have
you noticed, Catherine, his frightful Yorkshire pronunciation?'

`Why, where the devil is the use on't?'\ growled Hareton, more ready
in answering his daily companion. He was about to enlarge further,
but the two youngsters broke into a noisy fit of merriment: my giddy
miss being delighted to discover that she might turn his strange talk
to matter of amusement.

`Where is the use of the devil in that sentence?'\ tittered Linton.
`Papa told you not to say any bad words, and you can't open your mouth
without one. Do try to behave like a gentleman, now do!'

`If thou weren't more a lass than a lad, I'd fell thee this minute,
I would; pitiful lath of a crater!'\ retorted the angry boor, retreating,
while his face burnt with mingled rage and mortification!\ for he
was conscious of being insulted, and embarrassed how to resent it.

Mr.\ Heathcliff having overheard the conversation, as well as I,
smiled when he saw him go; but immediately afterwards cast a look
of singular aversion on the flippant pair, who remained chattering
in the door-way: the boy finding animation enough while discussing
Hareton's faults and deficiencies, and relating anecdotes of his goings
on; and the girl relishing his pert and spiteful sayings, without
considering the ill-nature they evinced. I began to dislike, more
than to compassionate Linton, and to excuse his father in some measure
for holding him cheap.

We stayed till afternoon: I could not tear Miss Cathy away sooner;
but happily my master had not quitted his apartment, and remained
ignorant of our prolonged absence. As we walked home, I would fain
have enlightened my charge on the characters of the people we had
quitted: but she got it into her head that I was prejudiced against
them.

`Aha!'\ she cried, `you take papa's side, Ellen: you are partial
I know; or else you wouldn't have cheated me so many years into the
notion that Linton lived a long way from here. I'm really extremely
angry; only I'm so pleased I can't show it! But you must hold your
tongue about \textit{my} uncle; he's my uncle, remember; and I'll
scold papa for quarrelling with him.'

And so she ran on, till I relinquished the endeavour to convince her
of her mistake. She did not mention the visit that night, because
she did not see Mr.\ Linton. Next day it all came out, sadly to my
chagrin; and still I was not altogether sorry: I thought the burden
of directing and warning would be more efficiently borne by him than
me. But he was too timid in giving satisfactory reasons for his wish
that she should shun connection with the household of the Heights,
and Catherine liked good reasons for every restraint that harassed
her petted will.

`Papa!'\ she exclaimed, after the morning's salutations, `guess whom
I saw yesterday, in my walk on the moors. Ah, papa, you started!\ you've
not done right, have you, now? I saw---but listen, and you shall hear
how I found you out; and Ellen, who is in league with you, and yet
pretended to pity me so, when I kept hoping, and was always disappointed
about Linton's coming back!'

She gave a faithful account of her excursion and its consequences;
and my master, though he cast more than one reproachful look at me,
said nothing till she had concluded. Then he drew her to him, and
asked if she knew why he had concealed Linton's near neighbourhood
from her? Could she think it was to deny her a pleasure that she might
harmlessly enjoy?

`It was because you disliked Mr.\ Heathcliff,' she answered.

`Then you believe I care more for my own feelings than yours, Cathy?'
he said. `No, it was not because I disliked Mr.\ Heathcliff, but
because Mr.\ Heathcliff dislikes me; and is a most diabolical man,
delighting to wrong and ruin those he hates, if they give him the
slightest opportunity. I knew that you could not keep up an acquaintance
with your cousin without being brought into contact with him; and
I knew he would detest you on my account; so for your own good, and
nothing else, I took precautions that you should not see Linton again.
I meant to explain this some time as you grew older, and I'm sorry
I delayed it.'

`But Mr.\ Heathcliff was quite cordial, papa,' observed Catherine,
not at all convinced; 'and he didn't object to our seeing each other:
he said I might come to his house when I pleased; only I must not
tell you, because you had quarrelled with him, and would not forgive
him for marrying aunt Isabella. And you won't. \textit{You} are the
one to be blamed: he is willing to let us be friends, at least; Linton
and I; and you are not.'

My master, perceiving that she would not take his word for her uncle-in-law's
evil disposition, gave a hasty sketch of his conduct to Isabella,
and the manner in which Wuthering Heights became his property. He
could not bear to discourse long upon the topic; for though he spoke
little of it, he still felt the same horror and detestation of his
ancient enemy that had occupied his heart ever since Mrs.\ Linton's
death. `She might have been living yet, if it had not been for him!'
was his constant bitter reflection; and, in his eyes, Heathcliff seemed
a murderer. Miss Cathy---conversant with no bad deeds except her own
slight acts of disobedience, injustice, and passion, arising from
hot temper and thoughtlessness, and repented of on the day they were
committed---was amazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood
on and cover revenge for years, and deliberately prosecute its plans
without a visitation of remorse. She appeared so deeply impressed
and shocked at this new view of human nature---excluded from all her
studies and all her ideas till now---that Mr.\ Edgar deemed it unnecessary
to pursue the subject. He merely added: `You will know hereafter,
darling, why I wish you to avoid his house and family; now return
to your old employments and amusements, and think no more about them.'

Catherine kissed her father, and sat down quietly to her lessons for
a couple of hours, according to custom; then she accompanied him into
the grounds, and the whole day passed as usual: but in the evening,
when she had retired to her room, and I went to help her to undress,
I found her crying, on her knees by the bedside.

`Oh, fie, silly child!'\ I exclaimed. `If you had any real griefs
you'd be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrariety. You never
had one shadow of substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine. Suppose, for
a minute, that master and I were dead, and you were by yourself in
the world: how would you feel, then? Compare the present occasion
with such an affliction as that, and be thankful for the friends you
have, instead of coveting more.'

`I'm not crying for myself, Ellen,' she answered, `it's for him. He
expected to see me again to-morrow, and there he'll be so disappointed:
and he'll wait for me, and I sha'n't come!'

`Nonsense!'\ said I, `do you imagine he has thought as much of you
as you have of him? Hasn't he Hareton for a companion? Not one in
a hundred would weep at losing a relation they had just seen twice,
for two afternoons. Linton will conjecture how it is, and trouble
himself no further about you.'

`But may I not write a note to tell him why I cannot come?'\ she
asked, rising to her feet. `And just send those books I promised to
lend him? His books are not as nice as mine, and he wanted to have
them extremely, when I told him how interesting they were. May I not,
Ellen?'

`No, indeed!\ no, indeed!'\ replied I with decision. `Then he would
write to you, and there'd never be an end of it. No, Miss Catherine,
the acquaintance must be dropped entirely: so papa expects, and I
shall see that it is done.'

`But how can one little note---?'\ she recommenced, putting on an
imploring countenance.

`Silence!'\ I interrupted. `We'll not begin with your little notes.
Get into bed.'

She threw at me a very naughty look, so naughty that I would not kiss
her good-night at first: I covered her up, and shut her door, in great
displeasure; but, repenting half-way, I returned softly, and lo!\ there
was Miss standing at the table with a bit of blank paper before her
and a pencil in her hand, which she guiltily slipped out of sight
on my entrance.

`You'll get nobody to take that, Catherine,' I said, `if you write
it; and at present I shall put out your candle.'

I set the extinguisher on the flame, receiving as I did so a slap
on my hand and a petulant `cross thing!' I then quitted her again,
and she drew the bolt in one of her worst, most peevish humours. The
letter was finished and forwarded to its destination by a milk-fetcher
who came from the village; but that I didn't learn till some time
afterwards. Weeks passed on, and Cathy recovered her temper; though
she grew wondrous fond of stealing off to corners by herself and often,
if I came near her suddenly while reading, she would start and bend
over the book, evidently desirous to hide it; and I detected edges
of loose paper sticking out beyond the leaves. She also got a trick
of coming down early in the morning and lingering about the kitchen,
as if she were expecting the arrival of something; and she had a small
drawer in a cabinet in the library, which she would trifle over for
hours, and whose key she took special care to remove when she left
it.

One day, as she inspected this drawer, I observed that the playthings
and trinkets which recently formed its contents were transmuted into
bits of folded paper. My curiosity and suspicions were roused; I determined
to take a peep at her mysterious treasures; so, at night, as soon
as she and my master were safe upstairs, I searched, and readily found
among my house keys one that would fit the lock. Having opened, I
emptied the whole contents into my apron, and took them with me to
examine at leisure in my own chamber. Though I could not but suspect,
I was still surprised to discover that they were a mass of correspondence---daily
almost, it must have been---from Linton Heathcliff: answers to documents
forwarded by her. The earlier dated were embarrassed and short; gradually,
however, they expanded into copious love-letters, foolish, as the
age of the writer rendered natural, yet with touches here and there
which I thought were borrowed from a more experienced source. Some
of them struck me as singularly odd compounds of ardour and flatness;
commencing in strong feeling, and concluding in the affected, wordy
style that a schoolboy might use to a fancied, incorporeal sweetheart.
Whether they satisfied Cathy I don't know; but they appeared very
worthless trash to me. After turning over as many as I thought proper,
I tied them in a handkerchief and set them aside, relocking the vacant
drawer.

Following her habit, my young lady descended early, and visited the
kitchen: I watched her go to the door, on the arrival of a certain
little boy; and, while the dairymaid filled his can, she tucked something
into his jacket pocket, and plucked something out. I went round by
the garden, and laid wait for the messenger; who fought valorously
to defend his trust, and we spilt the milk between us; but I succeeded
in abstracting the epistle; and, threatening serious consequences
if he did not look sharp home, I remained under the wall and perused
Miss Cathy's affectionate composition. It was more simple and more
eloquent than her cousin's: very pretty and very silly. I shook my
head, and went meditating into the house. The day being wet, she could
not divert herself with rambling about the park; so, at the conclusion
of her morning studies, she resorted to the solace of the drawer.
Her father sat reading at the table; and I, on purpose, had sought
a bit of work in some unripped fringes of the window-curtain, keeping
my eye steadily fixed on her proceedings. Never did any bird flying
back to a plundered nest, which it had left brimful of chirping young
ones, express more complete despair, in its anguished cries and flutterings,
than she by her single `Oh!'\ and the change that transfigured her
late happy countenance. Mr.\ Linton looked up.

`What is the matter, love? Have you hurt yourself?'\ he said.

His tone and look assured her \textit{he} had not been the discoverer
of the hoard.

`No, papa!'\ she gasped. `Ellen! Ellen!\ come up-stairs---I'm sick!'

I obeyed her summons, and accompanied her out.

`Oh, Ellen!\ you have got them,' she commenced immediately, dropping
on her knees, when we were enclosed alone. `Oh, give them to me, and
I'll never, never do so again! Don't tell papa. You have not told
papa, Ellen? say you have not? I've been exceedingly naughty, but
I won't do it any more!'

With a grave severity in my manner I bade her stand up.

`So,' I exclaimed, `Miss Catherine, you are tolerably far on, it seems:
you may well be ashamed of them! A fine bundle of trash you study
in your leisure hours, to be sure: why, it's good enough to be printed!
And what do you suppose the master will think when I display it before
him? I hav'n't shown it yet, but you needn't imagine I shall keep
your ridiculous secrets. For shame!\ and you must have led the way
in writing such absurdities: he would not have thought of beginning,
I'm certain.'

`I didn't! I didn't!'\ sobbed Cathy, fit to break her heart. `I didn't
once think of loving him till---'

`\textit{Loving}!'\ cried I, as scornfully as I could utter the word.
`\textit{Loving}! Did anybody ever hear the like! I might just as
well talk of loving the miller who comes once a year to buy our corn.
Pretty loving, indeed!\ and both times together you have seen Linton
hardly four hours in your life! Now here is the babyish trash. I'm
going with it to the library; and we'll see what your father says
to such \textit{loving}.'

She sprang at her precious epistles, but I hold them above my head;
and then she poured out further frantic entreaties that I would burn
them---do anything rather than show them. And being really fully as
much inclined to laugh as scold---for I esteemed it all girlish vanity---I
at length relented in a measure, and asked,---`If I consent to burn
them, will you promise faithfully neither to send nor receive a letter
again, nor a book (for I perceive you have sent him books), nor locks
of hair, nor rings, nor playthings?'

`We don't send playthings,' cried Catherine, her pride overcoming
her shame.

`Nor anything at all, then, my lady?'\ I said. `Unless you will,
here I go.'

`I promise, Ellen!'\ she cried, catching my dress. `Oh, put them
in the fire, do, do!'

But when I proceeded to open a place with the poker the sacrifice
was too painful to be borne. She earnestly supplicated that I would
spare her one or two.

`One or two, Ellen, to keep for Linton's sake!'

I unknotted the handkerchief, and commenced dropping them in from
an angle, and the flame curled up the chimney.

`I will have one, you cruel wretch!'\ she screamed, darting her hand
into the fire, and drawing forth some half-consumed fragments, at
the expense of her fingers.

`Very well---and I will have some to exhibit to papa!'\ I answered,
shaking back the rest into the bundle, and turning anew to the door.

She emptied her blackened pieces into the flames, and motioned me
to finish the immolation. It was done; I stirred up the ashes, and
interred them under a shovelful of coals; and she mutely, and with
a sense of intense injury, retired to her private apartment. I descended
to tell my master that the young lady's qualm of sickness was almost
gone, but I judged it best for her to lie down a while. She wouldn't
dine; but she reappeared at tea, pale, and red about the eyes, and
marvellously subdued in outward aspect. Next morning I answered the
letter by a slip of paper, inscribed, `Master Heathcliff is requested
to send no more notes to Miss Linton, as she will not receive them.'
And, henceforth, the little boy came with vacant pockets.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXII}

Summer drew to an end, and early autumn: it was past Michaelmas, but
the harvest was late that year, and a few of our fields were still
uncleared. Mr.\ Linton and his daughter would frequently walk out
among the reapers; at the carrying of the last sheaves they stayed
till dusk, and the evening happening to be chill and damp, my master
caught a bad cold, that settled obstinately on his lungs, and confined
him indoors throughout the whole of the winter, nearly without intermission.

Poor Cathy, frightened from her little romance, had been considerably
sadder and duller since its abandonment; and her father insisted on
her reading less, and taking more exercise. She had his companionship
no longer; I esteemed it a duty to supply its lack, as much as possible,
with mine: an inefficient substitute; for I could only spare two or
three hours, from my numerous diurnal occupations, to follow her footsteps,
and then my society was obviously less desirable than his.

On an afternoon in October, or the beginning of November---a fresh
watery afternoon, when the turf and paths were rustling with moist,
withered leaves, and the cold blue sky was half hidden by clouds---dark
grey streamers, rapidly mounting from the west, and boding abundant
rain---I requested my young lady to forego her ramble, because I was
certain of showers. She refused; and I unwillingly donned a cloak,
and took my umbrella to accompany her on a stroll to the bottom of
the park: a formal walk which she generally affected if low-spirited---and
that she invariably was when Mr.\ Edgar had been worse than ordinary,
a thing never known from his confession, but guessed both by her and
me from his increased silence and the melancholy of his countenance.
She went sadly on: there was no running or bounding now, though the
chill wind might well have tempted her to race. And often, from the
side of my eye, I could detect her raising a hand, and brushing something
off her cheek. I gazed round for a means of diverting her thoughts.
On one side of the road rose a high, rough bank, where hazels and
stunted oaks, with their roots half exposed, held uncertain tenure:
the soil was too loose for the latter; and strong winds had blown
some nearly horizontal. In summer Miss Catherine delighted to climb
along these trunks, and sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet
above the ground; and I, pleased with her agility and her light, childish
heart, still considered it proper to scold every time I caught her
at such an elevation, but so that she knew there was no necessity
for descending. From dinner to tea she would lie in her breeze-rocked
cradle, doing nothing except singing old songs---my nursery lore---to
herself, or watching the birds, joint tenants, feed and entice their
young ones to fly: or nestling with closed lids, half thinking, half
dreaming, happier than words can express.

`Look, Miss!'\ I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of
one twisted tree. `Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower
up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded
those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up, and
pluck it to show to papa?' Cathy stared a long time at the lonely
blossom trembling in its earthy shelter, and replied, at length---`No,
I'll not touch it: but it looks melancholy, does it not, Ellen?'

`Yes,' I observed, `about as starved and suckless as you your cheeks
are bloodless; let us take hold of hands and run. You're so low, I
daresay I shall keep up with you.'

`No,' she repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing at intervals
to muse over a bit of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or a fungus
spreading its bright orange among the heaps of brown foliage; and,
ever and anon, her hand was lifted to her averted face.

`Catherine, why are you crying, love?'\ I asked, approaching and
putting my arm over her shoulder. `You mustn't cry because papa has
a cold; be thankful it is nothing worse.'

She now put no further restraint on her tears; her breath was stifled
by sobs.

`Oh, it will be something worse,' she said. `And what shall I do when
papa and you leave me, and I am by myself? I can't forget your words,
Ellen; they are always in my ear. How life will be changed, how dreary
the world will be, when papa and you are dead.'

`None can tell whether you won't die before us,' I replied. `It's
wrong to anticipate evil. We'll hope there are years and years to
come before any of us go: master is young, and I am strong, and hardly
forty-five. My mother lived till eighty, a canty dame to the last.
And suppose Mr.\ Linton I were spared till he saw sixty, that would
be more years than you have counted, Miss. And would it not be foolish
to mourn a calamity above twenty years beforehand?'

`But Aunt Isabella was younger than papa,' she remarked, gazing up
with timid hope to seek further consolation.

`Aunt Isabella had not you and me to nurse her,' I replied. `She wasn't
as happy as Master: she hadn't as much to live for. All you need do,
is to wait well on your father, and cheer him by letting him see you
cheerful; and avoid giving him anxiety on any subject: mind that,
Cathy! I'll not disguise but you might kill him if you were wild and
reckless, and cherished a foolish, fanciful affection for the son
of a person who would be glad to have him in his grave; and allowed
him to discover that you fretted over the separation he has judged
it expedient to make.'

`I fret about nothing on earth except papa's illness,' answered my
companion. `I care for nothing in comparison with papa. And I'll never---never---oh,
never, while I have my senses, do an act or say a word to vex him.
I love him better than myself, Ellen; and I know it by this: I pray
every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable
than that he should be: that proves I love him better than myself.'

`Good words,' I replied. `But deeds must prove it also; and after
he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour
of fear.'

As we talked, we neared a door that opened on the road; and my young
lady, lightening into sunshine again, climbed up and seated herself
on the top of the wall, reaching over to gather some hips that bloomed
scarlet on the summit branches of the wild-rose trees shadowing the
highway side: the lower fruit had disappeared, but only birds could
touch the upper, except from Cathy's present station. In stretching
to pull them, her hat fell off; and as the door was locked, she proposed
scrambling down to recover it. I bid her be cautious lest she got
a fall, and she nimbly disappeared. But the return was no such easy
matter: the stones were smooth and neatly cemented, and the rose-bushes
and black-berry stragglers could yield no assistance in re-ascending.
I, like a fool, didn't recollect that, till I heard her laughing and
exclaiming---`Ellen!\ you'll have to fetch the key, or else I must
run round to the porter's lodge. I can't scale the ramparts on this
side!'

`Stay where you are,' I answered; `I have my bundle of keys in my
pocket: perhaps I may manage to open it; if not, I'll go.'

Catherine amused herself with dancing to and fro before the door,
while I tried all the large keys in succession. I had applied the
last, and found that none would do; so, repeating my desire that she
would remain there, I was about to hurry home as fast as I could,
when an approaching sound arrested me. It was the trot of a horse;
Cathy's dance stopped also.

`Who is that?'\ I whispered.

`Ellen, I wish you could open the door,' whispered back my companion,
anxiously.

`Ho, Miss Linton!'\ cried a deep voice (the rider's), `I'm glad to
meet you. Don't be in haste to enter, for I have an explanation to
ask and obtain.'

`I sha'n't speak to you, Mr.\ Heathcliff,' answered Catherine. `Papa
says you are a wicked man, and you hate both him and me; and Ellen
says the same.'

`That is nothing to the purpose,' said Heathcliff.\  (He it was.)
`I don't hate my son, I suppose; and it is concerning him that I demand
your attention. Yes; you have cause to blush. Two or three months
since, were you not in the habit of writing to Linton? making love
in play, eh? You deserved, both of you, flogging for that! You especially,
the elder; and less sensitive, as it turns out. I've got your letters,
and if you give me any pertness I'll send them to your father. I presume
you grew weary of the amusement and dropped it, didn't you? Well,
you dropped Linton with it into a Slough of Despond. He was in earnest:
in love, really. As true as I live, he's dying for you; breaking his
heart at your fickleness: not figuratively, but actually. Though Hareton
has made him a standing jest for six weeks, and I have used more serious
measures, and attempted to frighten him out of his idiotcy, he gets
worse daily; and he'll be under the sod before summer, unless you
restore him!'

`How can you lie so glaringly to the poor child?'\ I called from
the inside. `Pray ride on! How can you deliberately get up such paltry
falsehoods? Miss Cathy, I'll knock the lock off with a stone: you
won't believe that vile nonsense. You can feel in yourself it is impossible
that a person should die for love of a stranger.'

`I was not aware there were eavesdroppers,' muttered the detected
villain. `Worthy Mrs.\ Dean, I like you, but I don't like your double-dealing,'
he added aloud. `How could \textit{you} lie so glaringly as to affirm
I hated the {}``poor child''? and invent bugbear stories to terrify
her from my door-stones? Catherine Linton (the very name warms me),
my bonny lass, I shall be from home all this week; go and see if have
not spoken truth: do, there's a darling! Just imagine your father
in my place, and Linton in yours; then think how you would value your
careless lover if he refused to stir a step to comfort you, when your
father himself entreated him; and don't, from pure stupidity, fall
into the same error. I swear, on my salvation, he's going to his grave,
and none but you can save him!'

The lock gave way and I issued out.

`I swear Linton is dying,' repeated Heathcliff, looking hard at me.
`And grief and disappointment are hastening his death. Nelly, if you
won't let her go, you can walk over yourself. But I shall not return
till this time next week; and I think your master himself would scarcely
object to her visiting her cousin.'

`Come in,' said I, taking Cathy by the arm and half forcing her to
re-enter; for she lingered, viewing with troubled eyes the features
of the speaker, too stern to express his inward deceit.

He pushed his horse close, and, bending down, observed---`Miss Catherine,
I'll own to you that I have little patience with Linton; and Hareton
and Joseph have less. I'll own that he's with a harsh set. He pines
for kindness, as well as love; and a kind word from you would be his
best medicine. Don't mind Mrs.\ Dean's cruel cautions; but be generous,
and contrive to see him. He dreams of you day and night, and cannot
be persuaded that you don't hate him, since you neither write nor
call.'

I closed the door, and rolled a stone to assist the loosened lock
in holding it; and spreading my umbrella, I drew my charge underneath:
for the rain began to drive through the moaning branches of the trees,
and warned us to avoid delay. Our hurry prevented any comment on the
encounter with Heathcliff, as we stretched towards home; but I divined
instinctively that Catherine's heart was clouded now in double darkness.
Her features were so sad, they did not seem hers: she evidently regarded
what she had heard as every syllable true.

The master had retired to rest before we came in. Cathy stole to his
room to inquire how he was; he had fallen asleep. She returned, and
asked me to sit with her in the library. We took our tea together;
and afterwards she lay down on the rug, and told me not to talk, for
she was weary. I got a book, and pretended to read. As soon as she
supposed me absorbed in my occupation, she recommenced her silent
weeping: it appeared, at present, her favourite diversion. I suffered
her to enjoy it a while; then I expostulated: deriding and ridiculing
all Mr.\ Heathcliff's assertions about his son, as if I were certain
she would coincide. Alas! I hadn't skill to counteract the effect
his account had produced: it was just what he intended.

`You may be right, Ellen,' she answered; `but I shall never feel at
ease till I know. And I must tell Linton it is not my fault that I
don't write, and convince him that I shall not change.'

What use were anger and protestations against her silly credulity?
We parted that night---hostile; but next day beheld me on the road
to Wuthering Heights, by the side of my wilful young mistress's pony.
I couldn't bear to witness her sorrow: to see her pale, dejected countenance,
and heavy eyes: and I yielded, in the faint hope that Linton himself
might prove, by his reception of us, how little of the tale was founded
on fact.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXIII}

The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning---half frost, half
drizzle---and temporary brooks crossed our path---gurgling from the
uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted; I was cross and low; exactly
the humour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things.
We entered the farm-house by the kitchen way, to ascertain whether
Mr.\ Heathcliff were really absent: because I put slight faith in
his own affirmation.

Joseph seemed sitting in a sort of elysium alone, beside a roaring
fire; a quart of ale on the table near him, bristling with large pieces
of toasted oat-cake; and his black, short pipe in his mouth. Catherine
ran to the hearth to warm herself. I asked if the master was in? My
question remained so long unanswered, that I thought the old man had
grown deaf, and repeated it louder.

`Na---ay!'\ he snarled, or rather screamed through his nose. `Na---ay!\ yah
muh goa back whear yah coom frough.'

`Joseph!'\ cried a peevish voice, simultaneously with me, from the
inner room. `How often am I to call you? There are only a few red
ashes now. Joseph!\ come this moment.'

Vigorous puffs, and a resolute stare into the grate, declared he had
no ear for this appeal. The housekeeper and Hareton were invisible;
one gone on an errand, and the other at his work, probably. We knew
Linton's tones, and entered.

`Oh, I hope you'll die in a garret, starved to death!'\ said the
boy, mistaking our approach for that of his negligent attendant.

He stopped on observing his error: his cousin flew to him.

`Is that you, Miss Linton?'\ he said, raising his head from the arm
of the great chair, in which he reclined. `No---don't kiss me: it
takes my breath. Dear me! Papa said you would call,' continued he,
after recovering a little from Catherine's embrace; while she stood
by looking very contrite. `Will you shut the door, if you please?
you left it open; and those---those \textit{detestable} creatures
won't bring coals to the fire. It's so cold!'

I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttleful myself. The invalid
complained of being covered with ashes; but he had a tiresome cough,
and looked feverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his temper.

`Well, Linton,' murmured Catherine, when his corrugated brow relaxed,
`are you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?'

`Why didn't you come before?'\ he asked. `You should have come, instead
of writing. It tired me dreadfully writing those long letters. I'd
far rather have talked to you. Now, I can neither bear to talk, nor
anything else. I wonder where Zillah is! Will you' (looking at me)
`step into the kitchen and see?'

I had received no thanks for my other service; and being unwilling
to run to and fro at his behest, I replied---`Nobody is out there
but Joseph.'

`I want to drink,' he exclaimed fretfully, turning away. `Zillah is
constantly gadding off to Gimmerton since papa went: it's miserable!
And I'm obliged to come down here---they resolved never to hear me
up-stairs.'

`Is your father attentive to you, Master Heathcliff?'\ I asked, perceiving
Catherine to be checked in her friendly advances.

`Attentive? He makes them a little more attentive at least,' he cried.
`The wretches! Do you know, Miss Linton, that brute Hareton laughs
at me! I hate him!\ indeed, I hate them all: they are odious beings.'

Cathy began searching for some water; she lighted on a pitcher in
the dresser, filled a tumbler, and brought it. He bid her add a spoonful
of wine from a bottle on the table; and having swallowed a small portion,
appeared more tranquil, and said she was very kind.

`And are you glad to see me?'\ asked she, reiterating her former
question and pleased to detect the faint dawn of a smile.

`Yes, I am. It's something new to hear a voice like yours!'\ he replied.
`But I have been vexed, because you wouldn't come. And papa swore
it was owing to me: he called me a pitiful, shuffling, worthless thing;
and said you despised me; and if he had been in my place, he would
be more the master of the Grange than your father by this time. But
you don't despise me, do you, Miss---?'

`I wish you would say Catherine, or Cathy,' interrupted my young lady.
`Despise you? No! Next to papa and Ellen, I love you better than anybody
living. I don't love Mr.\ Heathcliff, though; and I dare not come
when he returns: will he stay away many days?'

`Not many,' answered Linton; `but he goes on to the moors frequently,
since the shooting season commenced; and you might spend an hour or
two with me in his absence. Do say you will. I think I should not
be peevish with you: you'd not provoke me, and you'd always be ready
to help me, wouldn't you?'

`Yes' said Catherine, stroking his long soft hair: `if I could only
get papa's consent, I'd spend half my time with you. Pretty Linton!
I wish you were my brother.'

`And then you would like me as well as your father?'\ observed he,
more cheerfully. `But papa says you would love me better than him
and all the world, if you were my wife; so I'd rather you were that.'

`No, I should never love anybody better than papa,' she returned gravely.
`And people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their sisters and
brothers: and if you were the latter, you would live with us, and
papa would be as fond of you as he is of me.'

Linton denied that people ever hated their wives; but Cathy affirmed
they did, and, in her wisdom, instanced his own father's aversion
to her aunt. I endeavoured to stop her thoughtless tongue. I couldn't
succeed till everything she knew was out. Master Heathcliff, much
irritated, asserted her relation was false.

`Papa told me; and papa does not tell falsehoods,' she answered pertly.

`\textit{My} papa scorns yours!'\ cried Linton. `He calls him a sneaking
fool.'

`Yours is a wicked man,' retorted Catherine; `and you are very naughty
to dare to repeat what he says. He must be wicked to have made Aunt
Isabella leave him as she did.'

`She didn't leave him,' said the boy; `you sha'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 grew
red with passion.

`She did!\ she did!'\ sang Linton, sinking into the recess of his
chair, and leaning back his head to enjoy the agitation of the other
disputant, who stood behind.

`Hush, Master Heathcliff!'\ I said; `that's your father's tale, too,
I suppose.'

`It isn't: you hold your tongue!'\ he answered. `She did, she did,
Catherine!\ she did, she did!'

Cathy, beside herself, gave the chair a violent push, and caused him
to fall against one arm. He was immediately seized by a suffocating
cough that soon ended his triumph. It lasted so long that it frightened
even me. As to his cousin, she wept with all her might, aghast at
the mischief she had done: though she said nothing. I held him till
the fit exhausted itself. Then he thrust me away, and leant his head
down silently. Catherine quelled her lamentations also, took a seat
opposite, and looked solemnly into the fire.

`How do you feel now, Master Heathcliff?'\ I inquired, after waiting
ten minutes.

`I wish \textit{she} felt as I do,' he replied: `spiteful, cruel thing!
Hareton never touches me: he never struck me in his life. And I was
better to-day: and there---' his voice died in a whimper.

`I didn't strike you!'\ muttered Cathy, chewing her lip to prevent
another burst of emotion.

He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering, and kept it up
for a quarter of an hour; on purpose to distress his cousin apparently,
for whenever he caught a stifled sob from her he put renewed pain
and pathos into the inflexions of his voice.

`I'm sorry I hurt you, Linton,' she said at length, racked beyond
endurance. `But I couldn't have been hurt by that little push, and
I had no idea that you could, either: you're not much, are you, Linton?
Don't let me go home thinking I've done you harm. Answer!\ speak
to me.'

`I can't speak to you,' he murmured; `you've hurt me so that I shall
lie awake all night choking with this cough. If you had it you'd know
what it was; but \textit{you'll} be comfortably asleep while I'm in
agony, and nobody near me. I wonder how you would like to pass those
fearful nights!' And he began to wail aloud, for very pity of himself.

`Since you are in the habit of passing dreadful nights,' I said, `it
won't be Miss who spoils your ease: you'd be the same had she never
come. However, she shall not disturb you again; and perhaps you'll
get quieter when we leave you.'

`Must I go?'\ asked Catherine dolefully, bending over him. `Do you
want me to go, Linton?'

`You can't alter what you've done,' he replied pettishly, shrinking
from her, `unless you alter it for the worse by teasing me into a
fever.'

`Well, then, I must go?'\ she repeated.

`Let me alone, at least,' said he; `I can't bear your talking.'

She lingered, and resisted my persuasions to departure a tiresome
while; but as he neither looked up nor spoke, she finally made a movement
to the door, and I followed. We were recalled by a scream. Linton
had slid from his seat on to the hearthstone, and lay writhing in
the mere perverseness of an indulged plague of a child, determined
to be as grievous and harassing as it can. I thoroughly gauged his
disposition from his behaviour, and saw at once it would be folly
to attempt humouring him. Not so my companion: she ran back in terror,
knelt down, and cried, and soothed, and entreated, till he grew quiet
from lack of breath: by no means from compunction at distressing her.

`I shall lift him on to the settle,' I said, `and he may roll about
as he pleases: we can't stop to watch him. I hope you are satisfied,
Miss Cathy, that you are not the person to benefit him; and that his
condition of health is not occasioned by attachment to you. Now, then,
there he is! Come away: as soon as he knows there is nobody by to
care for his nonsense, he'll be glad to lie still.'

She placed a cushion under his head, and offered him some water; he
rejected the latter, and tossed uneasily on the former, as if it were
a stone or a block of wood. She tried to put it more comfortably.

`I can't do with that,' he said; `it's not high enough.'

Catherine brought another to lay above it.

`That's too high,' murmured the provoking thing.

`How must I arrange it, then?'\ she asked despairingly.

He twined himself up to her, as she half knelt by the settle, and
converted her shoulder into a support.

`No, that won't do,' I said. `You'll be content with the cushion,
Master Heathcliff. Miss has wasted too much time on you already: we
cannot remain five minutes longer.'

`Yes, yes, we can!'\ replied Cathy. `He's good and patient now. He's
beginning to think I shall have far greater misery than he will to-night,
if I believe he is the worse for my visit: and then I dare not come
again. Tell the truth about it, Linton; for I musn't come, if I have
hurt you.'

`You must come, to cure me,' he answered. `You ought to come, because
you have hurt me: you know you have extremely! I was not as ill when
you entered as I am at present---was I?'

`But you've made yourself ill by crying and being in a passion.---I
didn't do it all,' said his cousin. `However, we'll be friends now.
And you want me: you would wish to see me sometimes, really?'

`I told you I did,' he replied impatiently. `Sit on the settle and
let me lean on your knee. That's as mamma used to do, whole afternoons
together. Sit quite still and don't talk: but you may sing a song,
if you can sing; or you may say a nice long interesting ballad---one
of those you promised to teach me; or a story. I'd rather have a ballad,
though: begin.'

Catherine repeated the longest she could remember. The employment
pleased both mightily. Linton would have another, and after that another,
notwithstanding my strenuous objections; and so they went on until
the clock struck twelve, and we heard Hareton in the court, returning
for his dinner.

`And to-morrow, Catherine, will you be here to-morrow?'\ asked young
Heathcliff, holding her frock as she rose reluctantly.

`No,' I answered, `nor next day neither.' She, however, gave a different
response evidently, for his forehead cleared as she stooped and whispered
in his ear.

`You won't go to-morrow, recollect, Miss!'\ I commenced, when we
were out of the house. `You are not dreaming of it, are you?'

She smiled.

`Oh, I'll take good care,' I continued: `I'll have that lock mended,
and you can escape by no way else.'

`I can get over the wall,' she said laughing. `The Grange is not a
prison, Ellen, and you are not my gaoler. And besides, I'm almost
seventeen: I'm a woman. And I'm certain Linton would recover quickly
if he had me to look after him. I'm older than he is, you know, and
wiser: less childish, am I not? And he'll soon do as I direct him,
with some slight coaxing. He's a pretty little darling when he's good.
I'd make such a pet of him, if he were mine. We should, never quarrel,
should we after we were used to each other? Don't you like him, Ellen?'

`Like him!'\ I exclaimed. `The worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip
that ever struggled into its teens. Happily, as Mr.\ Heathcliff conjectured,
he'll not win twenty. I doubt whether he'll see spring, indeed. And
small loss to his family whenever he drops off. And lucky it is for
us that his father took him: the kinder he was treated, the more tedious
and selfish he'd be. I'm glad you have no chance of having him for
a husband, Miss Catherine.'

My companion waxed serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his
death so regardlessly wounded her feelings.

`He's younger than I,' she answered, after a protracted pause of meditation,
`and he ought to live the longest: he will---he must live as long
as I do. He's as strong now as when he first came into the north;
I'm positive of that. It's only a cold that ails him, the same as
papa has. You say papa will get better, and why shouldn't he?'

`Well, well,' I cried, `after all, we needn't trouble ourselves; for
listen, Miss,---and mind, I'll keep my word,---if you attempt going
to Wuthering Heights again, with or without me, I shall inform Mr.\ Linton,
and, unless he allow it, the intimacy with your cousin must not be
revived.'

`It has been revived,' muttered Cathy, sulkily.

`Must not be continued, then,' I said.

`We'll see,' was her reply, and she set off at a gallop, leaving me
to toil in the rear.

We both reached home before our dinner-time; my master supposed we
had been wandering through the park, and therefore he demanded no
explanation of our absence. As soon as I entered I hastened to change
my soaked shoes and stockings; but sitting such awhile at the Heights
had done the mischief. On the succeeding morning I was laid up, and
during three weeks I remained incapacitated for attending to my duties:
a calamity never experienced prior to that period, and never, I am
thankful to say, since.

My little mistress behaved like an angel in coming to wait on me,
and cheer my solitude; the confinement brought me exceedingly low.
It is wearisome, to a stirring active body: but few have slighter
reasons for complaint than I had. The moment Catherine left Mr.\ Linton's
room she appeared at my bedside. Her day was divided between us; no
amusement usurped a minute: she neglected her meals, her studies,
and her play; and she was the fondest nurse that ever watched. She
must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so, to give
so much to me. I said her days were divided between us; but the master
retired early, and I generally needed nothing after six o'clock, thus
the evening was her own. Poor thing! I never considered what she did
with herself after tea. And though frequently, when she looked in
to bid me good-night, I remarked a fresh colour in her cheeks and
a pinkness over her slender fingers, instead of fancying the line
borrowed from a cold ride across the moors, I laid it to the charge
of a hot fire in the library.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXIV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXIV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXIV}

At the close of three weeks I was able to quit my chamber and move
about the house. And on the first occasion of my sitting up in the
evening I asked Catherine to read to me, because my eyes were weak.
We were in the library, the master having gone to bed: she consented,
rather unwillingly, I fancied; and imagining my sort of books did
not suit her, I bid her please herself in the choice of what she perused.
She selected one of her own favourites, and got forward steadily about
an hour; then came frequent questions.

`Ellen, are not you tired? Hadn't you better lie down now? You'll
be sick, keeping up so long, Ellen.'

`No, no, dear, I'm not tired,' I returned, continually.

Perceiving me immovable, she essayed another method of showing her
disrelish for her occupation. It changed to yawning, and stretching,
and---

`Ellen, I'm tired.'

`Give over then and talk,' I answered.

That was worse: she fretted and sighed, and looked at her watch till
eight, and finally went to her room, completely overdone with sleep;
judging by her peevish, heavy look, and the constant rubbing she inflicted
on her eyes. The following night she seemed more impatient still;
and on the third from recovering my company she complained of a headache,
and left me. I thought her conduct odd; and having remained alone
a long while, I resolved on going and inquiring whether she were better,
and asking her to come and lie on the sofa, instead of up-stairs in
the dark. No Catherine could I discover up-stairs, and none below.
The servants affirmed they had not seen her. I listened at Mr.\ Edgar's
door; all was silence. I returned to her apartment, extinguished my
candle, and seated myself in the window.

The moon shone bright; a sprinkling of snow covered the ground, and
I reflected that she might, possibly, have taken it into her head
to walk about the garden, for refreshment. I did detect a figure creeping
along the inner fence of the park; but it was not my young mistress:
on its emerging into the light, I recognised one of the grooms. He
stood a considerable period, viewing the carriage-road through the
grounds; then started off at a brisk pace, as if he had detected something,
and reappeared presently, leading Miss's pony; and there she was,
just dismounted, and walking by its side. The man took his charge
stealthily across the grass towards the stable. Cathy entered by the
casement-window of the drawing-room, and glided noiselessly up to
where I awaited her. She put the door gently too, slipped off her
snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding, unconscious of my
espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I suddenly rose and revealed
myself. The surprise petrified her an instant: she uttered an inarticulate
exclamation, and stood fixed.

`My dear Miss Catherine,' I began, too vividly impressed by her recent
kindness to break into a scold, `where have you been riding out at
this hour? And why should you try to deceive me by telling a tale?
Where have you been? Speak!'

`To the bottom of the park,' she stammered. `I didn't tell a tale.'

`And nowhere else?'\ I demanded.

`No,' was the muttered reply.

`Oh, Catherine!'\ I cried, sorrowfully. `You know you have been doing
wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me. That
does grieve me. I'd rather be three months ill, than hear you frame
a deliberate lie.'

She sprang forward, and bursting into tears, threw her arms round
my neck.

`Well, Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry,' she said. `Promise
not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth: I hate to hide
it.'

We sat down in the window-seat; I assured her I would not scold, whatever
her secret might be, and I guessed it, of course; so she commenced---

`I've been to Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I've never missed going
a day since you fell ill; except thrice before, and twice after you
left your room. I gave Michael books and pictures to prepare Minny
every evening, and to put her back in the stable: you mustn't scold
him either, mind. I was at the Heights by half-past six, and generally
stayed till half-past eight, and then galloped home. It was not to
amuse myself that I went: I was often wretched all the time. Now and
then I was happy: once in a week perhaps. At first, I expected there
would be sad work persuading you to let me keep my word to Linton:
for I had engaged to call again next day, when we quitted him; but,
as you stayed up-stairs on the morrow, I escaped that trouble. While
Michael was refastening the lock of the park door in the afternoon,
I got possession of the key, and told him how my cousin wished me
to visit him, because he was sick, and couldn't come to the Grange;
and how papa would object to my going: and then I negotiated with
him about the pony. He is fond of reading, and he thinks of leaving
soon to get married; so he offered, if I would lend him books out
of the library, to do what I wished: but I preferred giving him my
own, and that satisfied him better.

`On my second visit Linton seemed in lively spirits; and Zillah (that
is their housekeeper) made us a clean room and a good fire, and told
us that, as Joseph was out at a prayer-meeting and Hareton Earnshaw
was off with his dogs---robbing our woods of pheasants, as I heard
afterwards---we might do what we liked. She brought me some warm wine
and gingerbread, and appeared exceedingly good-natured, and Linton
sat in the arm-chair, and I in the little rocking chair on the hearth-stone,
and we laughed and talked so merrily, and found so much to say: we
planned where we would go, and what we would do in summer. I needn't
repeat that, because you would call it silly.

`One time, however, we were near quarrelling. He said the pleasantest
manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening
on a bank of heath in the middle of the moors, with the bees humming
dreamily about among the bloom, and the larks singing high up overhead,
and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and cloudlessly.
That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness: mine was rocking
in a rustling green tree, with a west wind blowing, and bright white
clouds flitting rapidly above; and not only larks, but throstles,
and blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring out music on every
side, and the moors seen at a distance, broken into cool dusky dells;
but close by great swells of long grass undulating in waves to the
breeze; and woods and sounding water, and the whole world awake and
wild with joy. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted
all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven
would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said
I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine,
and began to grow very snappish. At last, we agreed to try both, as
soon as the right weather came; and then we kissed each other and
were friends.

`After sitting still an hour, I looked at the great room with its
smooth uncarpeted floor, and thought how nice it would be to play
in, if we removed the table; and I asked Linton to call Zillah in
to help us, and we'd have a game at blindman's-buff; she should try
to catch us: you used to, you know, Ellen. He wouldn't: there was
no pleasure in it, he said; but he consented to play at ball with
me. We found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops, and
hoops, and battledores and shuttlecocks. One was marked C., and the
other H.; I wished to have the C., because that stood for Catherine,
and the H.\ might be for Heathcliff, his name; but the bran came
out of H., and Linton didn't like it. I beat him constantly: and he
got cross again, and coughed, and returned to his chair. That night,
though, he easily recovered his good humour: he was charmed with two
or three pretty songs---\textit{your} songs, Ellen; and when I was
obliged to go, he begged and entreated me to come the following evening;
and I promised. Minny and I went flying home as light as air; and
I dreamt of Wuthering Heights and my sweet, darling cousin, till morning.

`On the morrow I was sad; partly because you were poorly, and partly
that I wished my father knew, and approved of my excursions: but it
was beautiful moonlight after tea; and, as I rode on, the gloom cleared.
I shall have another happy evening, I thought to myself; and what
delights me more, my pretty Linton will. I trotted up their garden,
and was turning round to the back, when that fellow Earnshaw met me,
took my bridle, and bid me go in by the front entrance. He patted
Minny's neck, and said she was a bonny beast, and appeared as if he
wanted me to speak to him. I only told him to leave my horse alone,
or else it would kick him. He answered in his vulgar accent, {}``It
wouldn't do mitch hurt if it did;'' and surveyed its legs with a
smile. I was half inclined to make it try; however, he moved off to
open the door, and, as he raised the latch, he looked up to the inscription
above, and said, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and elation:
{}``Miss Catherine! I can read yon, now.''

`{}{}``Wonderful,'' I exclaimed. {}``Pray let us hear you---you
\textit{are} grown clever!''

`He spelt, and drawled over by syllables, the name---\char`\"{}Hareton
Earnshaw.''

`{}{}``And the figures?'' I cried, encouragingly, perceiving that
he came to a dead halt.

`{}{}``I cannot tell them yet,'' he answered.

`{}{}``Oh, you dunce!'' I said, laughing heartily at his failure.

`The fool stared, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl
gathering over his eyes, as if uncertain whether he might not join
in my mirth: whether it were not pleasant familiarity, or what it
really was, contempt. I settled his doubts, by suddenly retrieving
my gravity and desiring him to walk away, for I came to see Linton,
not him. He reddened---I saw that by the moonlight---dropped his hand
from the latch, and skulked off, a picture of mortified vanity. He
imagined himself to be as accomplished as Linton, I suppose, because
he could spell his own name; and was marvellously discomfited that
I didn't think the same.'

`Stop, Miss Catherine, dear!'---I interrupted. `I shall not scold,
but I don't like your conduct there. If you had remembered that Hareton
was your cousin as much as Master Heathcliff, you would have felt
how improper it was to behave in that way. At least, it was praiseworthy
ambition for him to desire to be as accomplished as Linton; and probably
he did not learn merely to show off: you had made him ashamed of his
ignorance before, I have no doubt; and he wished to remedy it and
please you. To sneer at his imperfect attempt was very bad breeding.
Had you been brought up in his circumstances, would you be less rude?
He was as quick and as intelligent a child as ever you were; and I'm
hurt that he should be despised now, because that base Heathcliff
has treated him so unjustly.'

`Well, Ellen, you won't cry about it, will you?'\ she exclaimed,
surprised at my earnestness. `But wait, and you shall hear if he conned
his A B C to please me; and if it were worth while being civil to
the brute. I entered; Linton was lying on the settle, and half got
up to welcome me.

`{}{}``I'm ill to-night, Catherine, love,'' he said; {}``and you
must have all the talk, and let me listen. Come, and sit by me. I
was sure you wouldn't break your word, and I'll make you promise again,
before you go.''

`I knew now that I mustn't tease him, as he was ill; and I spoke softly
and put no questions, and avoided irritating him in any way. I had
brought some of my nicest books for him: he asked me to read a little
of one, and I was about to comply, when Earnshaw burst the door open:
having gathered venom with reflection. He advanced direct to us, seized
Linton by the arm, and swung him off the seat.

`{}``Get to thy own room!'' he said, in a voice almost inarticulate
with passion; and his face looked swelled and furious. {}``Take her
there if she comes to see thee: thou shalln't keep me out of this.
Begone wi' ye both!''

`He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer, nearly throwing
him into the kitchen; and he clenched his fist as I followed, seemingly
longing to knock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I let one
volume fall; he kicked it after me, and shut us out. I heard a malignant,
crackly laugh by the fire, and turning, beheld that odious Joseph
standing rubbing his bony hands, and quivering.

`{}``I wer sure he'd sarve ye out! He's a grand lad! He's getten
t' raight sperrit in him! \textit{He} knaws---ay, he knaws, as weel
as I do, who sud be t' maister yonder---Ech, ech, ech! He made ye
skift properly! Ech, ech, ech!''

`{}``Where must we go?'' I asked of my cousin, disregarding the
old wretch's mockery.

`Linton was white and trembling. He was not pretty then, Ellen: oh,
no!\ he looked frightful; for his thin face and large eyes were wrought
into an expression of frantic, powerless fury. He grasped the handle
of the door, and shook it: it was fastened inside.

`{}``If you don't let me in, I'll kill you!---If you don't let me
in, I'll kill you!'' he rather shrieked than said. {}``Devil!\ devil!---I'll
kill you---I'll kill you!''

Joseph uttered his croaking laugh again.

`{}``Thear, that's t' father!'' he cried. {}``That's father! We've
allas summut o' either side in us. Niver heed, Hareton, lad---dunnut
be 'feard---he cannot get at thee!''

`I took hold of Linton's hands, and tried to pull him away; but he
shrieked so shockingly that I dared not proceed. At last his cries
were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing; blood gushed from his mouth,
and he fell on the ground. I ran into the yard, sick with terror;
and called for Zillah, as loud as I could. She soon heard me: she
was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn, and hurrying from
her work, she inquired what there was to do? I hadn't breath to explain;
dragging her in, I looked about for Linton. Earnshaw had come out
to examine the mischief he had caused, and he was then conveying the
poor thing up-stairs. Zillah and I ascended after him; but he stopped
me at the top of the steps, and said I shouldn't go in: I must go
home. I exclaimed that he had killed Linton, and I \textit{would}
enter. Joseph locked the door, and declared I should do {}``no sich
stuff,'' and asked me whether I were {}``bahn to be as mad as him.''
I stood crying till the housekeeper reappeared. She affirmed he would
be better in a bit, but he couldn't do with that shrieking and din;
and she took me, and nearly carried me into the house.

`Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head! I sobbed and wept
so that my eyes were almost blind; and the ruffian you have such sympathy
with stood opposite: presuming every now and then to bid me {}``wisht,''
and denying that it was his fault; and, finally, frightened by my
assertions that I would tell papa, and that he should be put in prison
and hanged, he commenced blubbering himself, and hurried out to hide
his cowardly agitation. Still, I was not rid of him: when at length
they compelled me to depart, and I had got some hundred yards off
the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow of the road-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.
He let go, thundering one of his horrid curses, and I galloped home
more than half out of my senses.

`I didn't bid you good-night that evening, and I didn't go to Wuthering
Heights the next: I wished to go exceedingly; but I was strangely
excited, and dreaded to hear that Linton was dead, sometimes; and
sometimes shuddered at the thought of encountering Hareton. On the
third day I took courage: at least, I couldn't bear longer suspense,
and stole off once more. I went at five o'clock, and walked; fancying
I might manage to creep into the house, and up to Linton's room, unobserved.
However, the dogs gave notice of my approach. Zillah received me,
and saying {}``the lad was mending nicely,'' showed me into a small,
tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to my inexpressible joy, I beheld
Linton laid on a little sofa, reading one of my books. But he would
neither speak to me nor look at me, through a whole hour, Ellen: he
has such an unhappy temper. And what quite confounded me, when he
did open his mouth, it was to utter the falsehood that I had occasioned
the uproar, and Hareton was not to blame! Unable to reply, except
passionately, I got up and walked from the room. He sent after me
a faint {}``Catherine!'' He did not reckon on being answered so:
but I wouldn't turn back; and the morrow was the second day on which
I stayed at home, nearly determined to visit him no more. But it was
so miserable going to bed and getting up, and never hearing anything
about him, that my resolution melted into air before it was properly
formed. It had appeared wrong to take the journey once; now it seemed
wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask if he must saddle Minny; I said
{}``Yes,'' and considered myself doing a duty as she bore me over
the hills. I was forced to pass the front windows to get to the court:
it was no use trying to conceal my presence.

`{}{}``Young master is in the house,'' said Zillah, as she saw
me making for the parlour. I went in; Earnshaw was there also, but
he quitted the room directly. Linton sat in the great arm-chair half
asleep; walking up to the fire, I began in a serious tone, partly
meaning it to be true---

`{}{}``As you don't like me, Linton, and as you think I come on
purpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is
our last meeting: let us say good-bye; and tell Mr.\ Heathcliff that
you have no wish to see me, and that he mustn't invent any more falsehoods
on the subject.''

`{}{}``Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine,'' he answered.
{}``You are so much happier than I am, you ought to be better. Papa
talks enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me, to make
it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I am not altogether
as worthless as he calls me, frequently; and then I feel so cross
and bitter, I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and
bad in spirit, almost always; and, if you choose, you may say good-bye:
you'll get rid of an annoyance. Only, Catherine, do me this justice:
believe that if I might be as sweet, and as kind, and as good as you
are, I would be; as willingly, and more so, than as happy and as healthy.
And believe that your kindness has made me love you deeper than if
I deserved your love: and though I couldn't, and cannot help showing
my nature to you, I regret it and repent it; and shall regret and
repent it till I die!''

`I felt he spoke the truth; and I felt I must forgive him: and, though
we should quarrel the next moment, I must forgive him again. We were
reconciled; but we cried, both of us, the whole time I stayed: not
entirely for sorrow; yet I \textit{was} sorry Linton had that distorted
nature. He'll never let his friends be at ease, and he'll never be
at ease himself! I have always gone to his little parlour, since that
night; because his father returned the day after.

`About three times, I think, we have been merry and hopeful, as we
were the first evening; the rest of my visits were dreary and troubled:
now with his selfishness and spite, and now with his sufferings: but
I've learned to endure the former with nearly as little resentment
as the latter. Mr.\ Heathcliff purposely avoids me: I have hardly
seen him at all. Last Sunday, indeed, coming earlier than usual, I
heard him abusing poor Linton cruelly for his conduct of the night
before. I can't tell how he knew of it, unless he listened. Linton
had certainly behaved provokingly: however, it was the business of
nobody but me, and I interrupted Mr.\ Heathcliff's lecture by entering
and telling him so. He burst into a laugh, and went away, saying he
was glad I took that view of the matter. Since then, I've told Linton
he must whisper his bitter things. Now, Ellen, you have heard all.
I can't be prevented from going to Wuthering Heights, except by inflicting
misery on two people; whereas, if you'll only not tell papa, my going
need disturb the tranquillity of none. You'll not tell, will you?
It will be very heartless, if you do.'

`I'll make up my mind on that point by to-morrow, Miss Catherine,'
I replied. `It requires some study; and so I'll leave you to your
rest, and go think it over.'

I thought it over aloud, in my master's presence; walking straight
from her room to his, and relating the whole story: with the exception
of her conversations with her cousin, and any mention of Hareton.
Mr.\ Linton was alarmed and distressed, more than he would acknowledge
to me. In the morning, Catherine learnt my betrayal of her confidence,
and she learnt also that her secret visits were to end. In vain she
wept and writhed against the interdict, and implored her father to
have pity on Linton: all she got to comfort her was a promise that
he would write and give him leave to come to the Grange when he pleased;
but explaining that he must no longer expect to see Catherine at Wuthering
Heights. Perhaps, had he been aware of his nephew's disposition and
state of health, he would have seen fit to withhold even that slight
consolation.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXV}

`These things happened last winter, sir,' said Mrs.\ Dean; `hardly
more than a year ago. Last winter, I did not think, at another twelve
months' end, I should be amusing a stranger to the family with relating
them! Yet, who knows how long you'll be a stranger? You're too young
to rest always contented, living by yourself; and I some way fancy
no one could see Catherine Linton and not love her. You smile; but
why do you look so lively and interested when I talk about her? and
why have you asked me to hang her picture over your fireplace? and
why---?'

`Stop, my good friend!'\ I cried. `It may be very possible that I
should love her; but would she love me? I doubt it too much to venture
my tranquillity by running into temptation: and then my home is not
here. I'm of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. Go on.
Was Catherine obedient to her father's commands?'

`She was,' continued the housekeeper. `Her affection for him was still
the chief sentiment in her heart; and he spoke without anger: he spoke
in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils
and foes, where his remembered words would be the only aid that he
could bequeath to guide her. He said to me, a few days afterwards,
{}``I wish my nephew would write, Ellen, or call. Tell me, sincerely,
what you think of him: is he changed for the better, or is there a
prospect of improvement, as he grows a man?''

`{}{}``He's very delicate, sir,'' I replied; {}``and scarcely
likely to reach manhood: but this I can say, he does not resemble
his father; and if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him,
he would not be beyond her control: unless she were extremely and
foolishly indulgent. However, master, you'll have plenty of time to
get acquainted with him and see whether he would suit her: it wants
four years and more to his being of age.\char`\"{}'

Edgar sighed; and, walking to the window, looked out towards Gimmerton
Kirk. It was a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly,
and we could just distinguish the two fir-trees in the yard, and the
sparely-scattered gravestones.

`I've prayed often,' he half soliloquised, `for the approach of what
is coming; and now I begin to shrink, and fear it. I thought the memory
of the hour I came down that glen a bridegroom would be less sweet
than the anticipation that I was soon, in a few months, or, possibly,
weeks, to be carried up, and laid in its lonely hollow! Ellen, I've
been very happy with my little Cathy: through winter nights and summer
days she was a living hope at my side. But I've been as happy musing
by myself among those stones, under that old church: lying, through
the long June evenings, on the green mound of her mother's grave,
and wishing---yearning for the time when I might lie beneath it. What
can I do for Cathy? How must I quit her? I'd not care one moment for
Linton being Heathcliff's son; nor for his taking her from me, if
he could console her for my loss. I'd not care that Heathcliff gained
his ends, and triumphed in robbing me of my last blessing! But should
Linton be unworthy---only a feeble tool to his father---I cannot abandon
her to him! And, hard though it be to crush her buoyant spirit, I
must persevere in making her sad while I live, and leaving her solitary
when I die. Darling! I'd rather resign her to God, and lay her in
the earth before me.'

`Resign her to God as it is, sir,' I answered, `and if we should lose
you---which may He forbid---under His providence, I'll stand her friend
and counsellor to the last. Miss Catherine is a good girl: I don't
fear that she will go wilfully wrong; and people who do their duty
are always finally rewarded.'

Spring advanced; yet my master gathered no real strength, though he
resumed his walks in the grounds with his daughter. To her inexperienced
notions, this itself was a sign of convalescence; and then his cheek
was often flushed, and his eyes were bright; she felt sure of his
recovering. On her seventeenth birthday, he did not visit the churchyard:
it was raining, and I observed---`You'll surely not go out to-night,
sir?'

He answered,---`No, I'll defer it this year a little longer.' He wrote
again to Linton, expressing his great desire to see him; and, had
the invalid been presentable, I've no doubt his father would have
permitted him to come. As it was, being instructed, he returned an
answer, intimating that Mr.\ Heathcliff objected to his calling at
the Grange; but his uncle's kind remembrance delighted him, and he
hoped to meet him sometimes in his rambles, and personally to petition
that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly divided.

That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own. Heathcliff
knew he could plead eloquently for Catherine's company, then.

`I do not ask,' he said, `that she may visit here; but am I never
to see her, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you
forbid her to come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards
the Heights; and let us exchange a few words, in your presence! We
have done nothing to deserve this separation; and you are not angry
with me: you have no reason to dislike me, you allow, yourself. Dear
uncle!\ send me a kind note to-morrow, and leave to join you anywhere
you please, except at Thrushcross Grange. I believe an interview would
convince you that my father's character is not mine: he affirms I
am more your nephew than his son; and though I have faults which render
me unworthy of Catherine, she has excused them, and for her sake,
you should also. You inquire after my health---it is better; but while
I remain cut off from all hope, and doomed to solitude, or the society
of those who never did and never will like me, how can I be cheerful
and well?'

Edgar, though he felt for the boy, could not consent to grant his
request; because he could not accompany Catherine. He said, in summer,
perhaps, they might meet: meantime, he wished him to continue writing
at intervals, and engaged to give him what advice and comfort he was
able by letter; being well aware of his hard position in his family.
Linton complied; and had he been unrestrained, would probably have
spoiled all by filling his epistles with complaints and lamentations.\ but
his father kept a sharp watch over him; and, of course, insisted on
every line that my master sent being shown; so, instead of penning
his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses, the themes constantly
uppermost in his thoughts, he harped on the cruel obligation of being
held asunder from his friend and love; and gently intimated that Mr.\ Linton
must allow an interview soon, or he should fear he was purposely deceiving
him with empty promises.

Cathy was a powerful ally at home; and between them they at length
persuaded my master to acquiesce in their having a ride or a walk
together about once a week, under my guardianship, and on the moors
nearest the Grange: for June found him still declining. Though he
had set aside yearly a portion of his income for my young lady's fortune,
he had a natural desire that she might retain---or at least return
in a short time to---the house of her ancestors; and he considered
her only prospect of doing that was by a union with his heir; he had
no idea that the latter was failing almost as fast as himself; nor
had any one, I believe: no doctor visited the Heights, and no one
saw Master Heathcliff to make report of his condition among us. I,
for my part, began to fancy my forebodings were false, and that he
must be actually rallying, when he mentioned riding and walking on
the moors, and seemed so earnest in pursuing his object. I could not
picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and wickedly
as I afterwards learned Heathcliff had treated him, to compel this
apparent eagerness: his efforts redoubling the more imminently his
avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat by death.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXVI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXVI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXVI}

Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded
his assent to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our
first ride to join her cousin. It was a close, sultry day: devoid
of sunshine, but with a sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain:
and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide-stone, by the
cross-roads. On arriving there, however, a little herd-boy, despatched
as a messenger, told us that,---`Maister Linton wer just o' this side
th' Heights: and he'd be mitch obleeged to us to gang on a bit further.'

`Then Master Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle,'
I observed: `he bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are off
at once.'

`Well, we'll turn our horses' heads round when we reach him,' answered
my companion; `our excursion shall lie towards home.'

But when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a mile
from his own door, we found he had no horse; and we were forced to
dismount, and leave ours to graze. He lay on the heath, awaiting our
approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then he
walked so feebly, and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed,---`Why,
Master Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble this morning.
How ill you do look!'

Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment: she changed the
ejaculation of joy on her lips to one of alarm; and the congratulation
on their long-postponed meeting to an anxious inquiry, whether he
were worse than usual?

`No---better---better!'\ he panted, trembling, and retaining her
hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered
timidly over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard
wildness the languid expression they once possessed.

`But you have been worse,' persisted his cousin; `worse than when
I saw you last; you are thinner, and---'

`I'm tired,' he interrupted, hurriedly. `It is too hot for walking,
let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick---papa says
I grow so fast.'

Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her.

`This is something like your paradise,' said she, making an effort
at cheerfulness. `You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in
the place and way each thought pleasantest? This is nearly yours,
only there are clouds; but then they are so soft and mellow: it is
nicer than sunshine. Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the
Grange Park, and try mine.'

Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of and he had evidently
great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack
of interest in the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity
to contribute to her entertainment, were so obvious that she could
not conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come
over his whole person and manner. The pettishness that might be caressed
into fondness, had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of
the peevish temper of a child which frets and teases on purpose to
be soothed, and more of the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed
invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the good-humoured
mirth of others as an insult. Catherine perceived, as well as I did,
that he held it rather a punishment, than a gratification, to endure
our company; and she made no scruple of proposing, presently, to depart.
That proposal, unexpectedly, roused Linton from his lethargy, and
threw him into a strange state of agitation. He glanced fearfully
towards the Heights, begging she would remain another half-hour, at
least.

`But I think,' said Cathy, `you'd be more comfortable at home than
sitting here; and I cannot amuse you to-day, I see, by my tales, and
songs, and chatter: you have grown wiser than I, in these six months;
you have little taste for my diversions now: or else, if I could amuse
you, I'd willingly stay.'

`Stay to rest yourself,' he replied. `And, Catherine, don't think
or say that I'm \textit{very} unwell: it is the heavy weather and
heat that make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, a great
deal for me. Tell uncle I'm in tolerable health, will you?'

`I'll tell him that \textit{you} say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm
that you are,' observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious
assertion of what was evidently an untruth.

`And be here again next Thursday,' continued he, shunning her puzzled
gaze. `And give him my thanks for permitting you to come---my best
thanks, Catherine. And---and, if you \textit{did} meet my father,
and he asked you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been
extremely silent and stupid: don't look sad and downcast, as you are
doing---he'll be angry.'

`I care nothing for his anger,' exclaimed Cathy, imagining she would
be its object.

`But I do,' said her cousin, shuddering. `\textit{Don't} provoke him
against me, Catherine, for he is very hard.'

`Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff?'\ I inquired. `Has he grown
weary of indulgence, and passed from passive to active hatred?'

Linton looked at me, but did not answer; and, after keeping her seat
by his side another ten minutes, during which his head fell drowsily
on his breast, and he uttered nothing except suppressed moans of exhaustion
or pain, Cathy began to seek solace in looking for bilberries, and
sharing the produce of her researches with me: she did not offer them
to him, for she saw further notice would only weary and annoy.

`Is it half-an-hour now, Ellen?'\ she whispered in my ear, at last.
`I can't tell why we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be wanting
us back.'

`Well, we must not leave him asleep,' I answered; `wait till lie wakes,
and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your longing
to see poor Linton has soon evaporated!'

`Why did \textit{he} wish to see me?'\ returned Catherine. `In his
crossest humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his present
curious mood. It's just as if it were a task he was compelled to perform---this
interview---for fear his father should scold him. But I'm hardly going
to come to give Mr.\ Heathcliff pleasure; whatever reason he may
have for ordering Linton to undergo this penance. And, though I'm
glad he's better in health, I'm sorry he's so much less pleasant,
and so much less affectionate to me.'

`You think \textit{he} \textit{is} better in health, then?'\ I said.

`Yes,' she answered; `because he always made such a great deal of
his sufferings, you know. He is not tolerably well, as he told me
to tell papa; but he's better, very likely.'

`There you differ with me, Miss Cathy,' I remarked; `I should conjecture
him to be far worse.'

Linton here started from his slumber in bewildered terror, and asked
if any one had called his name.

`No,' said Catherine; `unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how you
manage to doze out of doors, in the morning.'

`I thought I heard my father,' he gasped, glancing up to the frowning
nab above us. `You are sure nobody spoke?'

`Quite sure,' replied his cousin. `Only Ellen and I were disputing
concerning your health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when
we separated in winter? If you be, I'm certain one thing is not stronger---your
regard for me: speak,---are you?'

The tears gushed from Linton's eyes as he answered, `Yes, yes, I am!'
And, still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze wandered
up and down to detect its owner.

Cathy rose. `For to-day we must part,' she said. `And I won't conceal
that I have been sadly disappointed with our meeting; though I'll
mention it to nobody but you: not that I stand in awe of Mr.\ Heathcliff.'

`Hush,' murmured Linton; `for God's sake, hush! He's coming.' And
he clung to Catherine's arm, striving to detain her; but at that announcement
she hastily disengaged herself, and whistled to Minny, who obeyed
her like a dog.

`I'll be here next Thursday,' she cried, springing to the saddle.
`Good-bye. Quick, Ellen!'

And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure, so absorbed
was he in anticipating his father's approach.

Before we reached home, Catherine's displeasure softened into a perplexed
sensation of pity and regret, largely blended with vague, uneasy doubts
about Linton's actual circumstances, physical and social: in which
I partook, though I counselled her not to say much; for a second journey
would make us better judges. My master requested an account of our
ongoings. His nephew's offering of thanks was duly delivered, Miss
Cathy gently touching on the rest: I also threw little light on his
inquiries, for I hardly knew what to hide and what to reveal.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXVII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXVII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXVII}

Seven days glided away, every one marking its course by the henceforth
rapid alteration of Edgar Linton's state. The havoc that months had
previously wrought was now emulated by the inroads of hours. Catherine
we would fain have deluded yet; but her own quick spirit refused to
delude her: it divined in secret, and brooded on the dreadful probability,
gradually ripening into certainty. She had not the heart to mention
her ride, when Thursday came round; I mentioned it for her, and obtained
permission to order her out of doors: for the library, where her father
stopped a short time daily---the brief period he could bear to sit
up---and his chamber, had become her whole world. She grudged each
moment that did not find her bending over his pillow, or seated by
his side. Her countenance grew wan with watching and sorrow, and my
master gladly dismissed her to what he flattered himself would be
a happy change of scene and society; drawing comfort from the hope
that she would not now be left entirely alone after his death.

He had a fixed idea, I guessed by several observations he let fall,
that, as his nephew resembled him in person, he would resemble him
in mind; for Linton's letters bore few or no indications of his defective
character. And I, through pardonable weakness, refrained from correcting
the error; asking myself what good there would be in disturbing his
last moments with information that he had neither power nor opportunity
to turn to account.

We deferred our excursion till the afternoon; a golden afternoon of
August: every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed
whoever respired it, though dying, might revive. Catherine's face
was just like the landscape---shadows and sunshine flitting over it
in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine
was more transient; and her poor little heart reproached itself for
even that passing forgetfulness of its cares.

We discerned Linton watching at the same spot he had selected before.
My young mistress alighted, and told me that, as she was resolved
to stay a very little while, I had better hold the pony and remain
on horseback; but I dissented: I wouldn't risk losing sight of the
charge committed to me a minute; so we climbed the slope of heath
together. Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation on
this occasion: not the animation of high spirits though, nor yet of
joy; it looked more like fear.

`It is late!'\ he said, speaking short and with difficulty. `Is not
your father very ill? I thought you wouldn't come.'

`\textit{Why} won't you be candid?'\ cried Catherine, swallowing
her greeting. `Why cannot you say at once you don't want me? It is
strange, Linton, that for the second time you have brought me here
on purpose, apparently to distress us both, and for no reason besides!'

Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half supplicating, half ashamed;
but his cousin's patience was not sufficient to endure this enigmatical
behaviour.

`My father \textit{is} very ill,' she said; `and why am I called from
his bedside? Why didn't you send to absolve me from my promise, when
you wished I wouldn't keep it? Come! I desire an explanation: playing
and trifling are completely banished out of my mind; and I can't dance
attendance on your affectations now!'

`My affectations!'\ he murmured; `what are they? For heaven's sake,
Catherine, don't look so angry! Despise me as much as you please;
I am a worthless, cowardly wretch: I can't be scorned enough; but
I'm too mean for your anger. Hate my father, and spare me for contempt.'

`Nonsense!'\ cried Catherine in a passion. `Foolish, silly boy! And
there!\ he trembles: as if I were really going to touch him! You
needn't bespeak contempt, Linton: anybody will have it spontaneously
at your service. Get off! I shall return home: it is folly dragging
you from the hearth-stone, and pretending---what do we pretend? Let
go my frock! If I pitied you for crying and looking so very frightened,
you should spurn such pity. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct
is. Rise, and don't degrade yourself into an abject reptile---\textit{don't}!'

With streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown
his nerveless frame along the ground: he seemed convulsed with exquisite
terror.

`Oh!'\ he sobbed, `I cannot bear it! Catherine, Catherine, I'm a
traitor, too, and I dare not tell you! But leave me, and I shall be
killed! \textit{Dear} Catherine, my life is in your hands: and you
have said you loved me, and if you did, it wouldn't harm you. You'll
not go, then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you \textit{will}
consent---and he'll let me die with you!'

My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise
him. The old feeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation,
and she grew thoroughly moved and alarmed.

`Consent to what?'\ she asked. `To stay!\ tell me the meaning of
this strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words, and
distract me! Be calm and frank, and confess at once all that weighs
on your heart. You wouldn't injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn't
let any enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I'll believe you are
a coward, for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend.'

`But my father threatened me,' gasped the boy, clasping his attenuated
fingers, `and I dread him---I dread him! I \textit{dare} not tell!'

`Oh, well!'\ said Catherine, with scornful compassion, `keep your
secret: \textit{I'm} no coward. Save yourself: I'm not afraid!'

Her magnanimity provoked his tears: he wept wildly, kissing her supporting
hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was cogitating
what the mystery might be, and determined Catherine should never suffer
to benefit him or any one else, by my good will; when, hearing a rustle
among the ling, I looked up and saw Mr.\ Heathcliff almost close
upon us, descending the Heights. He didn't cast a glance towards my
companions, though they were sufficiently near for Linton's sobs to
be audible; but hailing me in the almost hearty tone he assumed to
none besides, and the sincerity of which I couldn't avoid doubting,
he said---

`It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are you
at the Grange? Let us hear. The rumour goes,' he added, in a lower
tone, `that Edgar Linton is on his death-bed: perhaps they exaggerate
his illness?'

`No; my master is dying,' I replied: `it is true enough. A sad thing
it will be for us all, but a blessing for him!'

`How long will he last, do you think?'\ he asked.

`I don't know,' I said.

`Because,' he continued, looking at the two young people, who were
fixed under his eye---Linton appeared as if he could not venture to
stir or raise his head, and Catherine could not move, on his account---`because
that lad yonder seems determined to beat me; and I'd thank his uncle
to be quick, and go before him! Hallo!\ has the whelp been playing
that game long? I \textit{did} give him some lessons about snivelling.
Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton generally?'

`Lively? no---he has shown the greatest distress,' I answered. `To
see him, I should say, that instead of rambling with his sweetheart
on the hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a doctor.'

`He shall be, in a day or two,' muttered Heathcliff. `But first---get
up, Linton! Get up!'\ he shouted. `Don't grovel on the ground there
up, this moment!'

Linton had sunk prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless fear,
caused by his father's glance towards him, I suppose: there was nothing
else to produce such humiliation. He made several efforts to obey,
but his little strength was annihilated for the time, and he fell
back again with a moan. Mr.\ Heathcliff advanced, and lifted him
to lean against a ridge of turf.

`Now,' said he, with curbed ferocity, `I'm getting angry and if you
don't command that paltry spirit of yours---\textit{damn} you!\ get
up directly!'

`I will, father,' he panted. `Only, let me alone, or I shall faint.
I've done as you wished, I'm sure. Catherine will tell you that I---that
I---have been cheerful. Ah!\ keep by me, Catherine; give me your
hand.'

`Take mine,' said his father; `stand on your feet. There now---she'll
lend you her arm: that's right, look at her. You would imagine I was
the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excite such horror. Be so kind
as to walk home with him, will you? He shudders if I touch him.'

`Linton dear!'\ whispered Catherine, `I can't go to Wuthering Heights:
papa has forbidden me. He'll not harm you: why are you so afraid?'

`I can never re-enter that house,' he answered. `I'm \textit{not}
to re-enter it without you!'

`Stop!'\ cried his father. `We'll respect Catherine's filial scruples.
Nelly, take him in, and I'll follow your advice concerning the doctor,
without delay.'

`You'll do well,' replied I. `But I must remain with my mistress:
to mind your son is not my business.'

`You are very stiff,' said Heathcliff, `I know that: but you'll force
me to pinch the baby and make it scream before it moves your charity.
Come, then, my hero. Are you willing to return, escorted by me?'

He approached once more, and made as if he would seize the fragile
being; but, shrinking back, Linton clung to his cousin, and implored
her to accompany him, with a frantic importunity that admitted no
denial. However I disapproved, I couldn't hinder her: indeed, how
could she have refused him herself? What was filling him with dread
we had no means of discerning; but there he was, powerless under its
gripe, and any addition seemed capable of shocking him into idiotcy.
We reached the threshold; Catherine walked in, and I stood waiting
till she had conducted the invalid to a chair, expecting her out immediately;
when Mr.\ Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed---`My house is
not stricken with the plague, Nelly; and I have a mind to be hospitable
to-day: sit down, and allow me to shut the door.'

He shut and locked it also. I started.

`You shall have tea before you go home,' he added. `I am by myself.
Hareton is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and Joseph
are off on a journey of pleasure; and, though I'm used to being alone,
I'd rather have some interesting company, if I can get it. Miss Linton,
take your seat by \textit{him}. I give you what I have: the present
is hardly worth accepting; but I have nothing else to offer. It is
Linton, I mean. How she does stare! It's odd what a savage feeling
I have to anything that seems afraid of me! Had I been born where
laws are less strict and tastes less dainty, I should treat myself
to a slow vivisection of those two, as an evening's amusement.'

He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, `By
hell! I hate them.'

`I am not afraid of you!'\ exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear
the latter part of his speech. She stepped close up; her black eyes
flashing with passion and resolution. `Give me that key: I will have
it!'\ she said. `I wouldn't eat or drink here, if I were starving.'

Heathcliff had the key in his hand that remained on the table. He
looked up, seized with a sort of surprise at her boldness; or, possibly,
reminded, by her voice and glance, of the person from whom she inherited
it. She snatched at the instrument, and half succeeded in getting
it out of his loosened fingers: but her action recalled him to the
present; he recovered it speedily.

`Now, Catherine Linton,' he said, `stand off, or I shall knock you
down; and, that will make Mrs.\ Dean mad.'

Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its contents
again. `We will go!'\ she repeated, exerting her utmost efforts to
cause the iron muscles to relax; and finding that her nails made no
impression, she applied her teeth pretty sharply. Heathcliff glanced
at me a glance that kept me from interfering a moment. Catherine was
too intent on his fingers to notice his face. He opened them suddenly,
and resigned the object of dispute; but, ere she had well secured
it, he seized her with the liberated hand, and, pulling her on his
knee, administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps on both
sides of the head, each sufficient to have fulfilled his threat, had
she been able to fall.'

At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. `You villain!'
I began to cry, `you villain!' A touch on the chest silenced me: I
am stout, and soon put out of breath; and, what with that and the
rage, I staggered dizzily back and felt ready to suffocate, or to
burst a blood-vessel. The scene was over in two minutes; Catherine,
released, put her two hands to her temples, and looked just as if
she were not sure whether her ears were off or on. She trembled like
a reed, poor thing, and leant against the table perfectly bewildered.

`I know how to chastise children, you see,' said the scoundrel, grimly,
as he stooped to repossess himself of the key, which had dropped to
the floor. `Go to Linton now, as I told you; and cry at your ease!
I shall be your father, to-morrow---all the father you'll have in
a few days---and you shall have plenty of that. You can bear plenty;
you're no weakling: you shall have a daily taste, if I catch such
a devil of a temper in your eyes again!'

Cathy ran to me instead of Linton, and knelt down and put her burning
cheek on my lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into a corner
of the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I dare
say, that the correction had alighted on another than him. Mr.\ Heathcliff,
perceiving us all confounded, rose, and expeditiously made the tea
himself. The cups and saucers were laid ready. He poured it out, and
handed me a cup.

`Wash away your spleen,' he said. `And help your own naughty pet and
mine. It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I'm going out to seek
your horses.'

Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit somewhere.
We tried the kitchen door, but that was fastened outside: we looked
at the windows---they were too narrow for even Cathy's little figure.

`Master Linton,' I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned, `you
know what your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us,
or I'll box your ears, as he has done your cousin's.'

`Yes, Linton, you must tell,' said Catherine. `It was for your sake
I came; and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse.'

`Give me some tea, I'm thirsty, and then I'll tell you,' he answered.
`Mrs.\ Dean, go away. I don't like you standing over me. Now, Catherine,
you are letting your tears fall into my cup. I won't drink that. Give
me another.' Catherine pushed another to him, and wiped her face.
I felt disgusted at the little wretch's composure, since he was no
longer in terror for himself. The anguish he had exhibited on the
moor subsided as soon as ever he entered Wuthering Heights; so I guessed
he had been menaced with an awful visitation of wrath if he failed
in decoying us there; and, that accomplished, he had no further immediate
fears.

`Papa wants us to be married,' he continued, after sipping some of
the liquid. `And he knows your papa wouldn't let us marry now; and
he's afraid of my dying if we wait; so we are to be married in the
morning, and you are to stay here all night; and, if you do as he
wishes, you shall return home next day, and take me with you.'

`Take you with her, pitiful changeling!'\ I exclaimed. `\textit{You}
marry? Why, the man is mad!\ or he thinks us fools, every one. And
do you imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy, hearty girl,
will tie herself to a little perishing monkey like you? Are you cherishing
the notion that anybody, let alone Miss Catherine Linton, would have
you for a husband? You want whipping for bringing us in here at all,
with your dastardly puling tricks: and---don't look so silly, now!
I've a very good mind to shake you severely, for your contemptible
treachery, and your imbecile conceit.'

I did give him a slight shaking; but it brought on the cough, and
he took to his ordinary resource of moaning and weeping, and Catherine
rebuked me.

`Stay all night? No,' she said, looking slowly round. `Ellen, I'll
burn that door down but I'll get out.'

And she would have commenced the execution of her threat directly,
but Linton was up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her
in his two feeble arms sobbing:---`Won't you have me, and save me?
not let me come to the Grange? Oh, darling Catherine!\ you mustn't
go and leave, after all. You \textit{must} obey my father---you \textit{must}!'

`I must obey my own,' she replied, `and relieve him from this cruel
suspense. The whole night! What would he think? He'll be distressed
already. I'll either break or burn a way out of the house. Be quiet!
You're in no danger; but if you hinder me---Linton, I love papa better
than you!' The mortal terror he felt of Mr.\ Heathcliff's anger restored
to the boy his coward's eloquence. Catherine was near distraught:
still, she persisted that she must go home, and tried entreaty in
her turn, persuading him to subdue his selfish agony. While they were
thus occupied, our jailor re-entered.

`Your beasts have trotted off,' he said, `and---now Linton!\ snivelling
again? What has she been doing to you? Come, come---have done, and
get to bed. In a month or two, my lad, you'll be able to pay her back
her present tyrannies with a vigorous hand. You're pining for pure
love, are you not? nothing else in the world: and she shall have you!
There, to bed! Zillah won't be here to-night; you must undress yourself.
Hush!\ hold your noise! Once in your own room, I'll not come near
you: you needn't fear. By chance, you've managed tolerably. I'll look
to the rest.'

He spoke these words, holding the door open for his son to pass, and
the latter achieved his exit exactly as a spaniel might which suspected
the person who attended on it of designing a spiteful squeeze. The
lock was re-secured. Heathcliff approached the fire, where my mistress
and I stood silent. Catherine looked up, and instinctively raised
her hand to her cheek: his neighbourhood revived a painful sensation.
Anybody else would have been incapable of regarding the childish act
with sternness, but he scowled on her and muttered---`Oh!\ you are
not afraid of me? Your courage is well disguised: you seem damnably
afraid!'

`I \textit{am} afraid now,' she replied, `because, if I stay, papa
will be miserable: and how can I endure making him miserable---when
he---when he---Mr.\ Heathcliff, let \textit{me} go home! I promise
to marry Linton: papa would like me to: and I love him. Why should
you wish to force me to do what I'll willingly do of myself?'

`Let him dare to force you,' I cried. `There's law in the land, thank
God!\ there is; though we be in an out-of-the-way place. I'd inform
if he were my own son: and it's felony without benefit of clergy!'

`Silence!'\ said the ruffian. `To the devil with your clamour! I
don't want \textit{you} to speak. Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself
remarkably in thinking your father will be miserable: I shall not
sleep for satisfaction. You could have hit on no surer way of fixing
your residence under my roof for the next twenty-four hours than informing
me that such an event would follow. As to your promise to marry Linton,
I'll take care you shall keep it; for you shall not quit this place
till it is fulfilled.'

`Send Ellen, then, to let papa know I'm safe!'\ exclaimed Catherine,
weeping bitterly. `Or marry me now. Poor papa! Ellen, he'll think
we're lost. What shall we do?'

`Not he! He'll think you are tired of waiting on him, and run off
for a little amusement,' answered Heathcliff. `You cannot deny that
you entered my house of your own accord, in contempt of his injunctions
to the contrary. And it is quite natural that you should desire amusement
at your age; and that you would weary of nursing a sick man, and that
man \textit{only} your father. Catherine, his happiest days were over
when your days began. He cursed you, I dare say, for coming into the
world (I did, at least); and it would just do if he cursed you as
\textit{he} went out of it. I'd join him. I don't love you! How should
I? Weep away. As far as I can see, it will be your chief diversion
hereafter; unless Linton make amends for other losses: and your provident
parent appears to fancy he may. His letters of advice and consolation
entertained me vastly. In his last he recommended my jewel to be careful
of his; and kind to her when he got her. Careful and kind---that's
paternal. But Linton requires his whole stock of care and kindness
for himself. Linton can play the little tyrant well. He'll undertake
to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and their claws
pared. You'll be able to tell his uncle fine tales of his \textit{kindness},
when you get home again, I assure you.'

`You're right there!'\ I said; `explain your son's character. Show
his resemblance to yourself: and then, I hope, Miss Cathy will think
twice before she takes the cockatrice!'

`I don't much mind speaking of his amiable qualities now,' he answered;
`because she must either accept him or remain a prisoner, and you
along with her, till your master dies. I can detain you both, quite
concealed, here. If you doubt, encourage her to retract her word,
and you'll have an opportunity of judging!'

`I'll not retract my word,' said Catherine. `I'll marry him within
this hour, if I may go to Thrushcross Grange afterwards. Mr.\ Heathcliff,
you're a cruel man, but you're not a fiend; and you won't, from \textit{mere}
malice, destroy irrevocably all my happiness. If papa thought I had
left him on purpose, and if he died before I returned, could I bear
to live? I've given over crying: but I'm going to kneel here, at your
knee; and I'll not get up, and I'll not take my eyes from your face
till you look back at me! No, don't turn away! \textit{Do} \textit{look}!\ you'll
see nothing to provoke you. I don't hate you. I'm not angry that you
struck me. Have you never loved \textit{anybody} in all your life,
uncle? \textit{Never}? Ah!\ you must look once. I'm so wretched,
you can't help being sorry and pitying me.'

`Keep your eft's fingers off; and move, or I'll kick you!'\ cried
Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. `I'd rather be hugged by a snake.
How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I \textit{detest} you!'

He shrugged his shoulders: shook himself, indeed, as if his flesh
crept with aversion; and thrust back his chair; while I got up, and
opened my mouth, to commence a downright torrent of abuse. But I was
rendered dumb in the middle of the first sentence, by a threat that
I should be shown into a room by myself the very next syllable I uttered.
It was growing dark---we heard a sound of voices at the garden-gate.
Our host hurried out instantly: \textit{He} had his wits about him;
\textit{we} had not. There was a talk of two or three minutes, and
he returned alone.

`I thought it had been your cousin Hareton,' I observed to Catherine.
`I wish he would arrive! Who knows but he might take our part?'

`It was three servants sent to seek you from the Grange,' said Heathcliff,
overhearing me. `You should have opened a lattice and called out:
but I could swear that chit is glad you didn't. She's glad to be obliged
to stay, I'm certain.'

At learning the chance we had missed, we both gave vent to our grief
without control; and he allowed us to wail on till nine o'clock. Then
he bid us go upstairs, through the kitchen, to Zillah's chamber; and
I whispered my companion to obey: perhaps we might contrive to get
through the window there, or into a garret, and out by its skylight.
The window, however, was narrow, like those below, and the garret
trap was safe from our attempts; for we were fastened in as before.
We neither of us lay down: Catherine took her station by the lattice,
and watched anxiously for morning; a deep sigh being the only answer
I could obtain to my frequent entreaties that she would try to rest.
I seated myself in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment
on my many derelictions of duty; from which, it struck me then, all
the misfortunes of my employers sprang. It was not the case, in reality,
I am aware; but it was, in my imagination, that dismal night; and
I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I.

At seven o'clock he came, and inquired if Miss Linton had risen. She
ran to the door immediately, and answered, `Yes.' `Here, then,' he
said, opening it, and pulling her out. I rose to follow, but he turned
the lock again. I demanded my release.

`Be patient,' he replied; `I'll send up your breakfast in a while.'

I thumped on the panels, and rattled the latch angrily and Catherine
asked why I was still shut up? He answered, I must try to endure it
another hour, and they went away. I endured it two or three hours;
at length, I heard a footstep: not Heathcliff's.

`I've brought you something to eat,' said a voice; `oppen t' door!'

Complying eagerly, I beheld Hareton, laden with food enough to last
me all day.

`Tak' it,' he added, thrusting the tray into my hand.

`Stay one minute,' I began.

`Nay,' cried he, and retired, regardless of any prayers I could pour
forth to detain him.

And there I remained enclosed the whole day, and the whole of the
next night; and another, and another. Five nights and four days I
remained, altogether, seeing nobody but Hareton once every morning;
and he was a model of a jailor: surly, and dumb, and deaf to every
attempt at moving his sense of justice or compassion.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXVIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXVIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXVIII}

On the fifth morning, or rather afternoon, a different step approached---lighter
and shorter; and, this time, the person entered the room. It was Zillah;
donned in her scarlet shawl, with a black silk bonnet on her head,
and a willow-basket swung to her arm.

`Eh, dear! Mrs.\ Dean!'\ she exclaimed. `Well!\ there is a talk
about you at Gimmerton. I never thought but you were sunk in the Blackhorse
marsh, and missy with you, till master told me you'd been found, and
he'd lodged you here! What!\ and you must have got on an island,
sure? And how long were you in the hole? Did master save you, Mrs.\ Dean?
But you're not so thin---you've not been so poorly, have you?'

`Your master is a true scoundrel!'\ I replied. `But he shall answer
for it. He needn't have raised that tale: it shall all be laid bare!'

`What do you mean?'\ asked Zillah. `It's not his tale: they tell
that in the village---about your being lost in the marsh; and I calls
to Earnshaw, when I come in---\char`\"{}Eh, they's queer things,
Mr.\ Hareton, happened since I went off. It's a sad pity of that
likely young lass, and cant Nelly Dean.'' He stared. I thought he
had not heard aught, so I told him the rumour. The master listened,
and he just smiled to himself, and said, {}``If they have been in
the marsh, they are out now, Zillah. Nelly Dean is lodged, at this
minute, in your room. You can tell her to flit, when you go up; here
is the key. The bog-water got into her head, and she would have run
home quite flighty; but I fixed her till she came round to her senses.
You can bid her go to the Grange at once, if she be able, and carry
a message from me, that her young lady will follow in time to attend
the squire's funeral.\char`\"{}'

`Mr.\ Edgar is not dead?'\ I gasped. `Oh! Zillah, Zillah!'

`No, no; sit you down, my good mistress,' she replied; `you're right
sickly yet. He's not dead; Doctor Kenneth thinks he may last another
day. I met him on the road and asked.'

Instead of sitting down, I snatched my outdoor things, and hastened
below, for the way was free. On entering the house, I looked about
for some one to give information of Catherine. The place was filled
with sunshine, and the door stood wide open; but nobody seemed at
hand. As I hesitated whether to go off at once, or return and seek
my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth. Linton
lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy, and
pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes. `Where is Miss Catherine?'
I demanded sternly, supposing I could frighten him into giving intelligence,
by catching him thus, alone. He sucked on like an innocent.

`Is she gone?'\ I said.

`No,' he replied; `she's upstairs: she's not to go; we won't let her.'

`You won't let her, little idiot!'\ I exclaimed. `Direct me to her
room immediately, or I'll make you sing out sharply.'

`Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there,' he
answered. `He says I'm not to be soft with Catherine: she's my wife,
and it's shameful that she should wish to leave me. He says she hates
me and wants me to die, that she may have my money; but she shan't
have it: and she shan't go home! She never shall!---she may cry, and
be sick as much as she pleases!'

He resumed his former occupation, closing his lids, as if he meant
to drop asleep.

`Master Heathcliff,' I resumed, `have you forgotten all Catherine's
kindness to you last winter, when you affirmed you loved her, and
when she brought you books and sung you songs, and came many a time
through wind and snow to see you? She wept to miss one evening, because
you would be disappointed; and you felt then that she was a hundred
times too good to you: and now you believe the lies your father tells,
though you know he detests you both. And you join him against her.
That's fine gratitude, is it not?'

The corner of Linton's mouth fell, and he took the sugar-candy from
his lips.

`Did she come to Wuthering Heights because she hated you?'\ I continued.
`Think for yourself! As to your money, she does not even know that
you will have any. And you say she's sick; and yet you leave her alone,
up there in a strange house! You who have felt what it is to be so
neglected! You could pity your own sufferings; and she pitied them,
too; but you won't pity hers! I shed tears, Master Heathcliff, you
see---an elderly woman, and a servant merely---and you, after pretending
such affection, and having reason to worship her almost, store every
tear you have for yourself, and lie there quite at ease. Ah!\ you're
a heartless, selfish boy!'

`I can't stay with her,' he answered crossly. `I'll not stay by myself.
She cries so I can't bear it. And she won't give over, though I say
I'll call my father. I did call him once, and he threatened to strangle
her if she was not quiet; but she began again the instant he left
the room, moaning and grieving all night long, though I screamed for
vexation that I couldn't sleep.'

`Is Mr.\ Heathcliff out?'\ I inquired, perceiving that the wretched
creature had no power to sympathize with his cousin's mental tortures.

`He's in the court,' he replied, `talking to Doctor Kenneth; who says
uncle is dying, truly, at last. I'm glad, for I shall be master of
the Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It
isn't hers! It's mine: papa says everything she has is mine. All her
nice books are mine; she offered to give me them, and her pretty birds,
and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of our room, and let her
out; but I told her she had nothing to give, they ware all, all mine.
And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said
I should have that; two pictures in a gold case, on one side her mother,
and on the other uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday---I
said they were mine, too; and tried to get them from her. The spiteful
thing wouldn't let me: she pushed me off, and hurt me. I shrieked
out---that frightens her---she heard papa coming, and she broke the
hinges and divided the case, and gave me her mother's portrait; the
other she attempted to hide: but papa asked what was the matter, and
I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to resign
hers to me; she refused, and he---he struck her down, and wrenched
it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot.'

`And were you pleased to see her struck?'\ I asked: having my designs
in encouraging his talk.

`I winked,' he answered: `I wink to see my father strike a dog or
a horse, he does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first---she deserved
punishing for pushing me: but when papa was gone, she made me come
to the window and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, against her
teeth, and her mouth filling with blood; and then she gathered up
the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her face to the
wall, and she has never spoken to me since: and I sometimes think
she can't speak for pain. I don't like to think so; but she's a naughty
thing for crying continually; and she looks so pale and wild, I'm
afraid of her.'

`And you can get the key if you choose?'\ I said.

`Yes, when I am up-stairs,' he answered; `but I can't walk up-stairs
now.'

`In what apartment is it?'\ I asked.

`Oh,' he cried, `I shan't tell \textit{you} where it is. It is our
secret. Nobody, neither Hareton nor Zillah, is to know. There!\ you've
tired me---go away, go away!' And he turned his face on to his arm,
and shut his eyes again.

I considered it best to depart without seeing Mr.\ Heathcliff, and
bring a rescue for my young lady from the Grange. On reaching it,
the astonishment of my fellow-servants to see me, and their joy also,
was intense; and when they heard that their little mistress was safe,
two or three were about to hurry up and shout the news at Mr.\ Edgar's
door: but I bespoke the announcement of it myself. How changed I found
him, even in those few days! He lay an image of sadness and resignation
awaiting his death. Very young he looked: though his actual age was
thirty-nine, one would have called him ten years younger, at least.
He thought of Catherine; for he murmured her name. I touched his hand,
and spoke.

`Catherine is coming, dear master!'\ I whispered; `she is alive and
well; and will be here, I hope, to-night.'

I trembled at the first effects of this intelligence: he half rose
up, looked eagerly round the apartment, and then sank back in a swoon.
As soon as he recovered, I related our compulsory visit, and detention
at the Heights. I said Heathcliff forced me to go in: which was not
quite true. I uttered as little as possible against Linton; nor did
I describe all his father's brutal conduct---my intentions being to
add no bitterness, if I could help it, to his already over-flowing
cup.

He divined that one of his enemy's purposes was to secure the personal
property, as well as the estate, to his son: or rather himself; yet
why he did not wait till his decease was a puzzle to my master, because
ignorant how nearly he and his nephew would quit the world together.
However, he felt that his will had better be altered: instead of leaving
Catherine's fortune at her own disposal, he determined to put it in
the hands of trustees for her use during life, and for her children,
if she had any, after her. By that means, it could not fall to Mr.\ Heathcliff
should Linton die.

Having received his orders, I despatched a man to fetch the attorney,
and four more, provided with serviceable weapons, to demand my young
lady of her jailor. Both parties were delayed very late. The single
servant returned first. He said Mr.\ Green, the lawyer, was out when
he arrived at his house, and he had to wait two hours for his re-entrance;
and then Mr.\ Green told him he had a little business in the village
that must be done; but he would be at Thrushcross Grange before morning.
The four men came back unaccompanied also. They brought word that
Catherine was ill: too ill to quit her room; and Heathcliff would
not suffer them to see her. I scolded the stupid fellows well for
listening to that tale, which I would not carry to my master; resolving
to take a whole bevy up to the Heights, at day-light, and storm it
literally, unless the prisoner were quietly surrendered to us. Her
father \textit{shall} see her, I vowed, and vowed again, if that devil
be killed on his own doorstones in trying to prevent it!

Happily, I was spared the journey and the trouble. I had gone down-stairs
at three o'clock to fetch a jug of water; and was passing through
the hall with it in my hand, when a sharp knock at the front door
made me jump. `Oh!\ it is Green,' I said, recollecting myself---`only
Green,' and I went on, intending to send somebody else to open it;
but the knock was repeated: not loud, and still importunately. I put
the jug on the banister and hastened to admit him myself. The harvest
moon shone clear outside. It was not the attorney. My own sweet little
mistress sprang on my neck sobbing, `Ellen, Ellen! Is papa alive?'

`Yes,' I cried: `yes, my angel, he is, God be thanked, you are safe
with us again!'

She wanted to run, breathless as she was, up-stairs to Mr.\ Linton's
room; but I compelled her to sit down on a chair, and made her drink,
and washed her pale face, chafing it into a faint colour with my apron.
Then I said I must go first, and tell of her arrival; imploring her
to say, she should be happy with young Heathcliff. She stared, but
soon comprehending why I counselled her to utter the falsehood, she
assured me she would not complain.

I couldn't abide to be present at their meeting. I stood outside the
chamber-door a quarter of an hour, and hardly ventured near the bed,
then. All was composed, however: Catherine's despair was as silent
as her father's joy. She supported him calmly, in appearance; and
he fixed on her features his raised eyes that seemed dilating with
ecstasy.

He died blissfully, Mr.\ Lockwood: he died so. Kissing her cheek,
he murmured,---`I am going to her; and you, darling child, shall come
to us!'\ and never stirred or spoke again; but continued that rapt,
radiant gaze, till his pulse imperceptibly stopped and his soul departed.
None could have noticed the exact minute of his death, it was so entirely
without a struggle.

Whether Catherine had spent her tears, or whether the grief were too
weighty to let them flow, she sat there dry-eyed till the sun rose:
she sat till noon, and would still have remained brooding over that
deathbed, but I insisted on her coming away and taking some repose.
It was well I succeeded in removing her, for at dinner-time appeared
the lawyer, having called at Wuthering Heights to get his instructions
how to behave. He had sold himself to Mr.\ Heathcliff: that was the
cause of his delay in obeying my master's summons. Fortunately, no
thought of worldly affairs crossed the latter's mind, to disturb him,
after his daughter's arrival.

Mr.\ Green took upon himself to order everything and everybody about
the place. He gave all the servants but me, notice to quit. He would
have carried his delegated authority to the point of insisting that
Edgar Linton should not be buried beside his wife, but in the chapel,
with his family. There was the will, however, to hinder that, and
my loud protestations against any infringement of its directions.
The funeral was hurried over; Catherine, Mrs.\ Linton Heathcliff
now, was suffered to stay at the Grange till her father's corpse had
quitted it.

She told me that her anguish had at last spurred Linton to incur the
risk of liberating her. She heard the men I sent disputing at the
door, and she gathered the sense of Heathcliff's answer. It drove
her desperate. Linton who had been conveyed up to the little parlour
soon after I left, was terrified into fetching the key before his
father re-ascended. He had the cunning to unlock and re-lock the door,
without shutting it; and when he should have gone to bed, he begged
to sleep with Hareton, and his petition was granted for once. Catherine
stole out before break of day. She dared not try the doors lest the
dogs should raise an alarm; she visited the empty chambers and examined
their windows; and, luckily, lighting on her mother's, she got easily
out of its lattice, and on to the ground, by means of the fir-tree
close by. Her accomplice suffered for his share in the escape, notwithstanding
his timid contrivances.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXIX}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXIX}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{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, now venturing conjectures as to the gloomy future.

We had just agreed the best destiny which could await Catherine would
be a permission to continue resident at the Grange; at least during
Linton's life: he being allowed to join her there, and I to remain
as housekeeper. That seemed rather too favourable an arrangement to
be hoped for; and yet I did hope, and began to cheer up under the
prospect of retaining my home and my employment, and, above all, my
beloved young mistress; when a servant---one of the discarded ones,
not yet departed---rushed hastily in, and said `that devil Heathcliff'
was coming through the court: should he fasten the door in his face?

If we had been mad enough to order that proceeding, we had not time.
He made no ceremony of knocking or announcing his name: he was master,
and availed himself of the master's privilege to walk straight in,
without saying a word. The sound of our informant's voice directed
him to the library; he entered and motioning him out, shut the door.

It was the same room into which he had been ushered, as a guest, eighteen
years before: the same moon shone through the window; and the same
autumn landscape lay outside. We had not yet lighted a candle, but
all the apartment was visible, even to the portraits on the wall:
the splendid head of Mrs.\ Linton, and the graceful one of her husband.
Heathcliff advanced to the hearth. Time had little altered his person
either. There was the same man: his dark face rather sallower and
more composed, his frame a stone or two heavier, perhaps, and no other
difference. Catherine had risen with an impulse to dash out, when
she saw him.

`Stop!'\ he said, arresting her by the arm. `No more runnings away!
Where would you go? I'm come to fetch you home; and I hope you'll
be a dutiful daughter and not encourage my son to further disobedience.
I was embarrassed how to punish him when I discovered his part in
the business: he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him; but
you'll see by his look that he has received his due! I brought him
down one evening, the day before yesterday, and just set him in a
chair, and never touched him afterwards. I sent Hareton out, and we
had the room to ourselves. In two hours, I called Joseph to carry
him up again; and since then my presence is as potent on his nerves
as a ghost; and I fancy he sees me often, though I am not near. Hareton
says he wakes and shrieks in the night by the hour together, and calls
you to protect him from me; and, whether you like your precious mate,
or not, you must come: he's your concern now; I yield all my interest
in him to you.'

`Why not let Catherine continue here,' I pleaded, `and send Master
Linton to her? As you hate them both, you'd not miss them: they can
only be a daily plague to your unnatural heart.'

`I'm seeking a tenant for the Grange,' he answered; `and I want my
children about me, to be sure. Besides, that lass owes me her services
for her bread. I'm not going to nurture her in luxury and idleness
after Linton is gone. Make haste and get ready, now; and don't oblige
me to compel you.'

`I shall,' said Catherine. `Linton is all I have to love in the world,
and though you have done what you could to make him hateful to me,
and me to him, you cannot make us hate each other. And I defy you
to hurt him when I am by, and I defy you to frighten me!'

`You are a boastful champion,' replied Heathcliff; `but I don't like
you well enough to hurt him: you shall get the full benefit of the
torment, as long as it lasts. It is not I who will make him hateful
to you---it is his own sweet spirit. He's as bitter as gall at your
desertion and its consequences: don't expect thanks for this noble
devotion. I heard him draw a pleasant picture to Zillah of what he
would do if he were as strong as I: the inclination is there, and
his very weakness will sharpen his wits to find a substitute for strength.'

`I know he has a bad nature,' said Catherine: `he's your son. But
I'm glad I've a better, to forgive it; and I know he loves me, and
for that reason I love him. Mr.\ Heathcliff \textit{you} have \textit{nobody}
to love you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall still have
the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater
misery. You \textit{are} miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the
devil, and envious like him? \textit{Nobody} loves you---\textit{nobody}
will cry for you when you die! I wouldn't be you!'

Catherine spoke with a kind of dreary triumph: she seemed to have
made up her mind to enter into the spirit of her future family, and
draw pleasure from the griefs of her enemies.

`You shall be sorry to be yourself presently,' said her father-in-law,
`if you stand there another minute. Begone, witch, and get your things!'

She scornfully withdrew. In her absence I began to beg for Zillah's
place at the Heights, offering to resign mine to her; but he would
suffer it on no account. He bid me be silent; and then, for the first
time, allowed himself a glance round the room and a look at the pictures.
Having studied Mrs.\ Linton's, he said---`I shall have that home.
Not because I need it, but---' He turned abruptly to the fire, and
continued, with what, for lack of a better word, I must call a smile---`I'll
tell you what I did yesterday! I got the sexton, who was digging Linton's
grave, to remove the earth off her coffin lid, and I opened it. I
thought, once, I would have stayed there: when I saw her face again---it
is hers yet!---he had hard work to stir me; but he said it would change
if the air blew on it, and so I struck one side of the coffin loose,
and covered it up: not Linton's side, damn him! I wish he'd been soldered
in lead. And I bribed the sexton to pull it away when I'm laid there,
and slide mine out too; I'll have it made so: and then by the time
Linton gets to us he'll not know which is which!'

`You were very wicked, Mr.\ Heathcliff!'\ I exclaimed; `were you
not ashamed to disturb the dead?'

`I disturbed nobody, Nelly,' he replied; `and I gave some ease to
myself. I shall be a great deal more comfortable now; and you'll have
a better chance of keeping me underground, when I get there. Disturbed
her? No!\ she has disturbed me, night and day, through eighteen years---incessantly---remorselessly---till
yesternight; and yesternight I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping
the last sleep by that sleeper, with my heart stopped and my cheek
frozen against hers.'

`And if she had been dissolved into earth, or worse, what would you
have dreamt of then?'\ I said.

`Of dissolving with her, and being more happy still!'\ he answered.
`Do you suppose I dread any change of that sort? I expected such a
transformation on raising the lid---but I'm better pleased that it
should not commence till I share it. Besides, unless I had received
a distinct impression of her passionless features, that strange feeling
would hardly have been removed. It began oddly. You know I was wild
after she died; and eternally, from dawn to dawn, praying her to return
to me her spirit! I have a strong faith in ghosts: I have a conviction
that they can, and do, exist among us! The day she was buried, there
came a fall of snow. In the evening I went to the churchyard. It blew
bleak as winter---all round was solitary. I didn't fear that her fool
of a husband would wander up the glen so late; and no one else had
business to bring them there. Being alone, and conscious two yards
of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said to myself---`I'll
have her in my arms again! If she be cold, I'll think it is this north
wind that chills \textit{me}; and if she be motionless, it is sleep.''
I got a spade from the tool-house, and began to delve with all my
might---it scraped the coffin; I fell to work with my hands; the wood
commenced cracking about the screws; I was on the point of attaining
my object, when it seemed that I heard a sigh from some one above,
close at the edge of the grave, and bending down. {}``If I can only
get this off,'' I muttered, {}``I wish they may shovel in the earth
over us both!'' and I wrenched at it more desperately still. There
was another sigh, close at my ear. I appeared to feel the warm breath
of it displacing the sleet-laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh
and blood was by; but, as certainly as you perceive the approach to
some substantial body in the dark, though it cannot be discerned,
so certainly I felt that Cathy was there: not under me, but on the
earth. A sudden sense of relief flowed from my heart through every
limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and turned consoled at once:
unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me: it remained while
I re-filled the grave, and led me home. You may laugh, if you will;
but I was sure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me,
and I could not help talking to her. Having reached the Heights, I
rushed eagerly to the door. It was fastened; and, I remember, that
accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed my entrance. I remember stopping
to kick the breath out of him, and then hurrying up-stairs, to my
room and hers. I looked round impatiently---I felt her by me---I could
\textit{almost} see her, and yet I \textit{could} \textit{not}! I
ought to have sweat blood then, from the anguish of my yearning---from
the fervour of my supplications to have but one glimpse! I had not
one. She showed herself, as she often was in life, a devil to me!
And, since then, sometimes more and sometimes less, I've been the
sport of that intolerable torture! Infernal!\ keeping my nerves at
such a stretch that, if they had not resembled catgut, they would
long ago have relaxed to the feebleness of Linton's. When I sat in
the house with Hareton, it seemed that on going out I should meet
her; when I walked on the moors I should meet her coming in. When
I went from home I hastened to return; she \textit{must} be somewhere
at the Heights, I was certain! And when I slept in her chamber---I
was beaten out of that. I couldn't lie there; for the moment I closed
my eyes, she was either outside the window, or sliding back the panels,
or entering the room, or even resting her darling head on the same
pillow as she did when a child; and I must open my lids to see. And
so I opened and closed them a hundred times a night---to be always
disappointed! It racked me! I've often groaned aloud, till that old
rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my conscience was playing the
fiend inside of me. Now, since I've seen her, I'm pacified---a little.
It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of
hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen
years!'

Mr.\ Heathcliff paused and wiped his forehead; his hair clung to
it, wet with perspiration; his eyes were fixed on the red embers of
the fire, the brows not contracted, but raised next the temples; diminishing
the grim aspect of his countenance, but imparting a peculiar look
of trouble, and a painful appearance of mental tension towards one
absorbing subject. He only half addressed me, and I maintained silence.
I didn't like to hear him talk! After a short period he resumed his
meditation on the picture, took it down and leant it against the sofa
to contemplate it at better advantage; and while so occupied Catherine
entered, announcing that she was ready, when her pony should be saddled.

`Send that over to-morrow,' said Heathcliff to me; then turning to
her, he added: `You may do without your pony: it is a fine evening,
and you'll need no ponies at Wuthering Heights; for what journeys
you take, your own feet will serve you. Come along.'

`Good-bye, Ellen!'\ whispered my dear little mistress.

As she kissed me, her lips felt like ice. `Come and see me, Ellen;
don't forget.'

`Take care you do no such thing, Mrs.\ Dean!'\ said her new father.
`When I wish to speak to you I'll come here. I want none of your prying
at my house!'

He signed her to precede him; and casting back a look that cut my
heart, she obeyed. I watched them, from the window, walk down the
garden. Heathcliff fixed Catherine's arm under his: though she disputed
the act at first evidently; and with rapid strides he hurried her
into the alley, whose trees concealed them.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXX}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXX}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{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, and wouldn't let me pass. He said Mrs.\ Linton was `thrang,'
and the master was not in. Zillah has told me something of the way
they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was dead and who living.
She thinks Catherine haughty, and does not like her, I can guess by
her talk. My young lady asked some aid of her when she first came;
but Mr.\ Heathcliff told her to follow her own business, and let
his daughter-in-law look after herself; and Zillah willingly acquiesced,
being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherine evinced a child's
annoyance at this neglect; repaid it with contempt, and thus enlisted
my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had done her
some great wrong. I had a long talk with Zillah about six weeks ago,
a little before you came, one day when we foregathered on the moor;
and this is what she told me.

`The first thing Mrs.\ Linton did,' she said, `on her arrival at
the Heights, was to run up-stairs, without even wishing good-evening
to me and Joseph; she shut herself into Linton's room, and remained
till morning. Then, while the master and Earnshaw were at breakfast,
she entered the house, and asked all in a quiver if the doctor might
be sent for? her cousin was very ill.

`{}{}``We know that!'' answered Heathcliff; {}``but his life is
not worth a farthing, and I won't spend a farthing on him.''

`{}{}``But I cannot tell how to do,'' she said; {}``and if nobody
will help me, he'll die!''

`{}{}``Walk out of the room,'' cried the master, {}``and let me
never hear a word more about him! None here care what becomes of him;
if you do, act the nurse; if you do not, lock him up and leave him.''

`Then she began to bother me, and I said I'd had enough plague with
the tiresome thing; we each had our tasks, and hers was to wait on
Linton: Mr.\ Heathcliff bid me leave that labour to her.

`How they managed together, I can't tell. I fancy he fretted a great
deal, and moaned hisseln night and day; and she had precious little
rest: one could guess by her white face and heavy eyes. She sometimes
came into the kitchen all wildered like, and looked as if she would
fain beg assistance; but I was not going to disobey the master: I
never dare disobey him, Mrs.\ Dean; and, though I thought it wrong
that Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of mine either
to advise or complain, and I always refused to meddle. Once or twice,
after we had gone to bed, I've happened to open my door again and
seen her sitting crying on the stairs'- top; and then I've shut myself
in quick, for fear of being moved to interfere. I did pity her then,
I'm sure: still I didn't wish to lose my place, you know.

`At last, one night she came boldly into my chamber, and frightened
me out of my wits, by saying, {}``Tell Mr.\ Heathcliff that his
son is dying---I'm sure he is, this time. Get up, instantly, and tell
him.''

`Having uttered this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter of
an hour listening and trembling. Nothing stirred---the house was quiet.

`She's mistaken, I said to myself. He's got over it. I needn't disturb
them; and I began to doze. But my sleep was marred a second time by
a sharp ringing of the bell---the only bell we have, put up on purpose
for Linton; and the master called to me to see what was the matter,
and inform them that he wouldn't have that noise repeated.

`I delivered Catherine's message. He cursed to himself, and in a few
minutes came out with a lighted candle, and proceeded to their room.
I followed. Mrs.\ Heathcliff was seated by the bedside, with her
hands folded on her knees. Her father-in-law went up, held the light
to Linton's face, looked at him, and touched him; afterwards he turned
to her.

`{}{}``Now---Catherine,'' he said, {}``how do you feel?''

`She was dumb.

`{}{}``How do you feel, Catherine?'' he repeated.

`{}{}``He's safe, and I'm free,'' she answered: {}``I should feel
well---but,'' she continued, with a bitterness she couldn't conceal,
{}``you have left me so long to struggle against death alone, that
I feel and see only death! I feel like death!''

`And she looked like it, too! I gave her a little wine. Hareton and
Joseph, who had been wakened by the ringing and the sound of feet,
and heard our talk from outside, now entered. Joseph was fain, I believe,
of the lad's removal; Hareton seemed a thought bothered: though he
was more taken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of Linton.
But the master bid him get off to bed again: we didn't want his help.
He afterwards made Joseph remove the body to his chamber, and told
me to return to mine, and Mrs.\ Heathcliff remained by herself.

`In the morning, he sent me to tell her she must come down to breakfast:
she had undressed, and appeared going to sleep, and said she was ill;
at which I hardly wondered. I informed Mr.\ Heathcliff, and he replied,---\char`\"{}Well,
let her be till after the funeral; and go up now and then to get her
what is needful; and, as soon as she seems better, tell me.\char`\"{}'

Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, according to Zillah; who visited
her twice a day, and would have been rather more friendly, but her
attempts at increasing kindness were proudly and promptly repelled.

Heathcliff went up once, to show her Linton's will. He had bequeathed
the whole of his, and what had been her, moveable property, to his
father: the poor creature was threatened, or coaxed, into that act
during her week's absence, when his uncle died. The lands, being a
minor, he could not meddle with. However, Mr.\ Heathcliff has claimed
and kept them in his wife's right and his also: I suppose legally;
at any rate, Catherine, destitute of cash and friends, cannot disturb
his possession.

`Nobody,' said Zillah, `ever approached her door, except that once,
but I; and nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of
her coming down into the house was on a Sunday afternoon. She had
cried out, when I carried up her dinner, that she couldn't bear any
longer being in the cold; and I told her the master was going to Thrushcross
Grange, and Earnshaw and I needn't hinder her from descending; so,
as soon as she heard Heathcliff's horse trot off, she made her appearance,
donned in black, and her yellow curls combed back behind her ears
as plain as a Quaker: she couldn't comb them out.

`Joseph and I generally go to chapel on Sundays:' the kirk, you know,
has no minister now, explained Mrs.\ Dean; and they call the Methodists'
or Baptists' place (I can't say which it is) at Gimmerton, a chapel.
`Joseph had gone,' she continued, `but I thought proper to bide at
home. Young folks are always the better for an elder's over-looking;
and Hareton, with all his bashfulness, isn't a model of nice behaviour.
I let him know that his cousin would very likely sit with us, and
she had been always used to see the Sabbath respected; so he had as
good leave his guns and bits of indoor work alone, while she stayed.
He coloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands and clothes.
The train-oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a minute.
I saw he meant to give her his company; and I guessed, by his way,
he wanted to be presentable; so, laughing, as I durst not laugh when
the master is by, I offered to help him, if he would, and joked at
his confusion. He grew sullen, and began to swear.

`Now, Mrs.\ Dean,' Zillah went on, seeing me not pleased by her manner,
`you happen think your young lady too fine for Mr.\ Hareton; and
happen you're right: but I own I should love well to bring her pride
a peg lower. And what will all her learning and her daintiness do
for her, now? She's as poor as you or I: poorer, I'll be bound: you're
saying, and I'm doing my little all that road.'

Hareton allowed Zillah to give him her aid; and she flattered him
into a good humour; so, when Catherine came, half forgetting her former
insults, he tried to make himself agreeable, by the housekeeper's
account.

`Missis walked in,' she said, `as chill as an icicle, and as high
as a princess. I got up and offered her my seat in the arm-chair.
No, she turned up her nose at my civility. Earnshaw rose, too, and
bid her come to the settle, and sit close by the fire: he was sure
she was starved.

`{}{}``I've been starved a month and more,'' she answered, resting
on the word as scornful as she could.

`And she got a chair for herself, and placed it at a distance from
both of us. Having sat till she was warm, she began to look round,
and discovered a number 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 watching her endeavours a while, at last summoned
courage to help her; she held her frock, and he filled it with the
first that came to hand.

`That was a great advance for the lad. She didn't thank him; still,
he felt gratified that she had accepted his assistance, and ventured
to stand behind as she examined them, and even to stoop and point
out what struck his fancy in certain old pictures which they contained;
nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked the page
from his finger: he contented himself with going a bit farther back
and looking at her instead of the book. She continued reading, or
seeking for something to read. His attention became, by degrees, quite
centred in the study of her thick silky curls: her face he couldn't
see, and she couldn't see him. And, perhaps, not quite awake to what
he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, at last he proceeded
from staring to touching; he put out his hand and stroked one curl,
as gently as if it were a bird. He might have stuck a knife into her
neck, she started round in such a taking.

`{}{}``Get away this moment! How dare you touch me? Why are you
stopping there?'' she cried, in a tone of disgust. {}``I can't endure
you! I'll go upstairs again, if you come near me.''

`Mr.\ Hareton recoiled, looking as foolish as he could do: he sat
down in the settle very quiet, and she continued turning over her
volumes another half hour; finally, Earnshaw crossed over, and whispered
to me.

`Will you ask her to read to us, Zillah? I'm stalled of doing naught;
and I do like---I could like to hear her! Dunnot say I wanted it,
but ask of yourseln.''

`{}{}``Mr.\ Hareton wishes you would read to us, ma'am,'' I said,
immediately. {}``He'd take it very kind---he'd be much obliged.''

`She frowned; and looking up, answered---

`{}{}``Mr.\ Hareton, and the whole set of you, will be good enough
to understand that I reject any pretence at kindness you have the
hypocrisy to offer! I despise you, and will have nothing to say to
any of you! When I would have given my life for one kind word, even
to see one of your faces, you all kept off. But I won't complain to
you! I'm driven down here by the cold; not either to amuse you or
enjoy your society.''

`{}{}``What could I ha' done?'' began Earnshaw. {}``How was I
to blame?''

`{}{}``Oh!\ you are an exception,'' answered Mrs.\ Heathcliff.
{}``I never missed such a concern as you.''

`{}{}``But I offered more than once, and asked,'' he said, kindling
up at her pertness, {}``I asked Mr.\ Heathcliff to let me wake for
you---''

`{}{}``Be silent! I'll go out of doors, or anywhere, rather than
have your disagreeable voice in my ear!'' said my lady.

`Hareton muttered she might go to hell, for him!\ and unslinging
his gun, restrained himself from his Sunday occupations no longer.
He talked now, freely enough; and she presently saw fit to retreat
to her solitude: but the frost had set in, and, in spite of her pride,
she was forced to condescend to our company, more and more. However,
I took care there should be no further scorning at my good nature:
ever since, I've been as stiff as herself; and she has no lover or
liker among us: and she does not deserve one; for, let them say the
least word to her, and she'll curl back without respect of any one.
She'll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him to thrash
her; and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows.'

At first, on hearing this account from Zillah, I determined to leave
my situation, take a cottage, and get Catherine to come and live with
me: but Mr.\ Heathcliff would as soon permit that as he would set
up Hareton in an independent house; and I can see no remedy, at present,
unless she could marry again; and that scheme it does not come within
my province to arrange.

Thus ended Mrs.\ Dean's story. Notwithstanding the doctor's prophecy,
I am rapidly recovering strength; and though it be only the second
week in January, I propose getting out on horseback in a day or two,
and riding over to Wuthering Heights, to inform my landlord that I
shall spend the next six months in London; and, if he likes, he may
look out for another tenant to take the place after October. I would
not pass another winter here for much.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXXI}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXXI}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXXI}

Yesterday was bright, calm, and frosty. I went to the Heights as I
proposed: my housekeeper entreated me to bear a little note from her
to her young lady, and I did not refuse, for the worthy woman was
not conscious of anything odd in her request. The front door stood
open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at my last visit; I knocked
and invoked Earnshaw from among the garden-beds; he unchained it,
and I entered. The fellow is as handsome a rustic as need be seen.
I took particular notice of him this time; but then he does his best
apparently to make the least of his advantages.

I asked if Mr.\ Heathcliff were at home? He answered, No; but he
would be in at dinner-time. It was eleven o'clock, and I announced
my intention of going in and waiting for him; at which he immediately
flung down his tools and accompanied me, in the office of watchdog,
not as a substitute for the host.

We entered together; Catherine was there, making herself useful in
preparing some vegetables for the approaching meal; she looked more
sulky and less spirited than when I had seen her first. She hardly
raised her eyes to notice me, and continued her employment with the
same disregard to common forms of politeness as before; never returning
my bow and good-morning by the slightest acknowledgment.

`She does not seem so amiable,' I thought, `as Mrs.\ Dean would persuade
me to believe. She's a beauty, it is true; but not an angel.'

Earnshaw surlily bid her remove her things to the kitchen. `Remove
them yourself,' she said, pushing them from her as soon as she had
done; and retiring to a stool by the window, where she began to carve
figures of birds and beasts out of the turnip-parings in her lap.
I approached her, pretending to desire a view of the garden; and,
as I fancied, adroitly dropped Mrs.\ Dean's note on to her knee,
unnoticed by Hareton---but she asked aloud, `What is that?'\ And
chucked it off.

`A letter from your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at the Grange,'
I answered; annoyed at her exposing my kind deed, and fearful lest
it should be imagined a missive of my own. She would gladly have gathered
it up at this information, but Hareton beat her; he seized and put
it in his waistcoat, saying Mr.\ Heathcliff should look at it first.
Thereat, Catherine silently turned her face from us, and, very stealthily,
drew out her pocket-handkerchief and applied it to her eyes; and her
cousin, after struggling awhile to keep down his softer feelings,
pulled out the letter and flung it on the floor beside her, as ungraciously
as he could. Catherine caught and perused it eagerly; then she put
a few questions to me concerning the inmates, rational and irrational,
of her former home; and gazing towards the hills, murmured in soliloquy:

`I should like to be riding Minny down there! I should like to be
climbing up there! Oh! I'm tired---I'm \textit{stalled}, Hareton!'
And she leant her pretty head back against the sill, with half a yawn
and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness:
neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.

`Mrs.\ Heathcliff,' I said, after sitting some time mute, `you are
not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours? so intimate that I think
it strange you won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper never wearies
of talking about and praising you; and she'll be greatly disappointed
if I return with no news of or from you, except that you received
her letter and said nothing!'

She appeared to wonder at this speech, and asked,---

`Does Ellen like you?'

`Yes, very well,' I replied, hesitatingly.

`You must tell her,' she continued, `that I would answer her letter,
but I have no materials for writing: not even a book from which I
might tear a leaf.'

`No books!'\ I exclaimed. `How do you contrive to live here without
them? if I may take the liberty to inquire. Though provided with a
large library, I'm frequently very dull at the Grange; take my books
away, and I should be desperate!'

`I was always reading, when I had them,' said Catherine; `and Mr.\ Heathcliff
never reads; so he took it into his head to destroy my books. I have
not had a glimpse of one for weeks. Only once, I searched through
Joseph's store of theology, to his great irritation; and once, Hareton,
I came upon a secret stock in your room---some Latin and Greek, and
some tales and poetry: all old friends. I brought the last here---and
you gathered them, as a magpie gathers silver spoons, for the mere
love of stealing! They are of no use to you; or else you concealed
them in the bad spirit that, as you cannot enjoy them, nobody else
shall. Perhaps \textit{your} envy counselled Mr.\ Heathcliff to rob
me of my treasures? But I've most of them written on my brain and
printed in my heart, and you cannot deprive me of those!'

Earnshaw blushed crimson when his cousin made this revelation of his
private literary accumulations, and stammered an indignant denial
of her accusations.

`Mr.\ Hareton is desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge,'
I said, coming to his rescue. `He is not \textit{envious}, but \textit{emulous}
of your attainments. He'll be a clever scholar in a few years.'

`And he wants me to sink into a dunce, meantime,' answered Catherine.
`Yes, I hear him trying to spell and read to himself, and pretty blunders
he makes! I wish you would repeat Chevy Chase as you did yesterday:
it was extremely funny. I heard you; and I heard you turning over
the dictionary to seek out the hard words, and then cursing because
you couldn't read their explanations!'

The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed
at for his ignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove it.
I had a similar notion; and, remembering Mrs.\ Dean's anecdote of
his first attempt at enlightening the darkness in which he had been
reared, I observed,---`But, Mrs.\ Heathcliff, we have each had a
commencement, and each stumbled and tottered on the threshold; had
our teachers scorned instead of aiding us, we should stumble and totter
yet.'

`Oh!'\ she replied, `I don't wish to limit his acquirements: still,
he has no right to appropriate what is mine, and make it ridiculous
to me with his vile mistakes and mispronunciations! Those books, both
prose and verse, are consecrated to me by other associations; and
I hate to have them debased and profaned in his mouth! Besides, of
all, he has selected my favourite pieces that I love the most to repeat,
as if out of deliberate malice.'

Hareton's chest heaved in silence a minute: he laboured under a severe
sense of mortification and wrath, which it was no easy task to suppress.
I rose, and, from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his embarrassment,
took up my station in the doorway, surveying the external prospect
as I stood. He followed my example, and left the room; but presently
reappeared, bearing half a dozen volumes in his hands, which he threw
into Catherine's lap, exclaiming,---`Take them! I never want to hear,
or read, or think of them again!'

`I won't have them now,' she answered. `I shall connect them with
you, and hate them.'

She opened one that had obviously been often turned over, and read
a portion in the drawling tone of a beginner; then laughed, and threw
it from her. `And listen,' she continued, provokingly, commencing
a verse of an old ballad in the same fashion.

But his self-love would endure no further torment: I heard, and not
altogether disapprovingly, a manual cheek given to her saucy tongue.
The little wretch had done her utmost to hurt her cousin's sensitive
though uncultivated feelings, and a physical argument was the only
mode he had of balancing the account, and repaying its effects on
the inflictor. He afterwards gathered the books and hurled them on
the fire. I read in his countenance what anguish it was to offer that
sacrifice to spleen. I fancied that as they consumed, he recalled
the pleasure they had already imparted, and the triumph and ever-increasing
pleasure he had anticipated from them; and I fancied I guessed the
incitement to his secret studies also. He had been content with daily
labour and rough animal enjoyments, till Catherine crossed his path.
Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval, were his first prompters
to higher pursuits; and instead of guarding him from one and winning
him to the other, his endeavours to raise himself had produced just
the contrary result.

`Yes that's all the good that such a brute as you can get from them!'
cried Catherine, sucking her damaged lip, and watching the conflagration
with indignant eyes.

`You'd \textit{better} hold your tongue, now,' he answered fiercely.

And his agitation precluded further speech; he advanced hastily to
the entrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed
the door-stones, Mr.\ Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered
him, and laying hold of his shoulder asked,---`What's to do now, my
lad?'

`Naught, naught,' he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and anger
in solitude.

Heathcliff gazed after him, and sighed.

`It will be odd if I thwart myself,' he muttered, unconscious that
I was behind him. `But when I look for his father in his face, I find
\textit{her} every day more! How the devil is he so like? I can hardly
bear to see him.'

He bent his eyes to the ground, and walked moodily in. There was a
restless, anxious expression in his countenance. I had never remarked
there before; and he looked sparer in person. His daughter-in-law,
on perceiving him through the window, immediately escaped to the kitchen,
so that I remained alone.

`I'm glad to see you out of doors again, Mr.\ Lockwood,' he said,
in reply to my greeting; `from selfish motives partly: I don't think
I could readily supply your loss in this desolation. I've wondered
more than once what brought you here.'

`An idle whim, I fear, sir,' was my answer; `or else an idle whim
is going to spirit me away. I shall set out for London next week;
and I must give you warning that I feel no disposition to retain Thrushcross
Grange beyond the twelve months I agreed to rent it. I believe I shall
not live there any more.'

`Oh, indeed; you're tired of being banished from the world, are you?'
he said. `But if you be coming to plead off paying for a place you
won't occupy, your journey is useless: I never relent in exacting
my due from any one.'

`I'm coming to plead off nothing about it,' I exclaimed, considerably
irritated. `Should you wish it, I'll settle with you now,' and I drew
my note-book from my pocket.

`No, no,' he replied, coolly; `you'll leave sufficient behind to cover
your debts, if you fail to return: I'm not in such a hurry. Sit down
and take your dinner with us; a guest that is safe from repeating
his visit can generally be made welcome. Catherine bring the things
in: where are you?'

Catherine reappeared, bearing a tray of knives and forks.

`You may get your dinner with Joseph,' muttered Heathcliff, aside,
`and remain in the kitchen till he is gone.'

She obeyed his directions very punctually: perhaps she had no temptation
to transgress. Living among clowns and misanthropists, she probably
cannot appreciate a better class of people when she meets them.

With Mr.\ Heathcliff, grim and saturnine, on the one hand, and Hareton,
absolutely dumb, on the other, I made a somewhat cheerless meal, and
bade adieu early. I would have departed by the back way, to get a
last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old Joseph; but Hareton received
orders to lead up my horse, and my host himself escorted me to the
door, so I could not fulfil my wish.

`How dreary life gets over in that house!'\ I reflected, while riding
down the road. `What a realisation of something more romantic than
a fairy tale it would have been for Mrs.\ Linton Heathcliff, had
she and I struck up an attachment, as her good nurse desired, and
migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of the town!'


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXXII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXXII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXXII}

1802.---This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend
in the north, and on my journey to his abode, I unexpectedly came
within fifteen miles of Gimmerton. The ostler at a roadside public-house
was holding a pail of water to refresh my horses, when a cart of very
green oats, newly reaped, passed by, and he remarked,---`Yon's frough
Gimmerton, nah! They're allas three wick' after other folk wi' ther
harvest.'

`Gimmerton?'\ I repeated---my residence in that locality had already
grown dim and dreamy. `Ah! I know. How far is it from this?'

`Happen fourteen mile o'er th' hills; and a rough road,' he answered.

A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange. It was scarcely
noon, and I conceived that I might as well pass the night under my
own roof as in an inn. Besides, I could spare a day easily to arrange
matters with my landlord, and thus save myself the trouble of invading
the neighbourhood again. Having rested awhile, I directed my servant
to inquire the way to the village; and, with great fatigue to our
beasts, we managed the distance in some three hours.

I left him there, and proceeded down the valley alone. The grey church
looked greyer, and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I distinguished
a moor-sheep cropping the short turf on the graves. It was sweet,
warm weather---too warm for travelling; but the heat did not hinder
me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below: had I seen
it nearer August, I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste a month
among its solitudes. In winter nothing more dreary, in summer nothing
more divine, than those glens shut in by hills, and those bluff, bold
swells of heath.

I reached the Grange before sunset, and knocked for admittance; but
the family had retreated into the back premises, I judged, by one
thin, blue wreath, curling from the kitchen chimney, and they did
not hear. I rode into the court. Under the porch, a girl of nine or
ten sat knitting, and an old woman reclined on the housesteps, smoking
a meditative pipe.

`Is Mrs.\ Dean within?'\ I demanded of the dame.

`Mistress Dean? Nay!'\ she answered, `she doesn't bide here: shoo's
up at th' Heights.'

`Are you the housekeeper, then?'\ I continued.

`Eea, aw keep th' hause,' she replied.

`Well, I'm Mr.\ Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge
me in, I wonder? I wish to stay all night.'

`T' maister!'\ she cried in astonishment. `Whet, whoiver knew yah
wur coming? Yah sud ha' send word. They's nowt norther dry nor mensful
abaht t' place: nowt there isn't!'

She threw down her pipe and bustled in, the girl followed, and I entered
too; soon perceiving that her report was true, and, moreover, that
I had almost upset her wits by my unwelcome apparition, I bade her
be composed. I would go out for a walk; and, meantime she must try
to prepare a corner of a sitting-room for me to sup in, and a bedroom
to sleep in. No sweeping and dusting, only good fire and dry sheets
were necessary. She seemed willing to do her best; though she thrust
the hearth-brush into the grates in mistake for the poker, and malappropriated
several other articles of her craft: but I retired, confiding in her
energy for a resting-place against my return. Wuthering Heights was
the goal of my proposed excursion. An afterthought brought me back,
when I had quitted the court.

`All well at the Heights?'\ I inquired of the woman.

`Eea, f'r owt ee knaw!'\ she answered, skurrying away with a pan
of hot cinders.

I would have asked why Mrs.\ Dean had deserted the Grange, but it
was impossible to delay her at such a crisis, so I turned away and
made my exit, rambling leisurely along, with the glow of a sinking
sun behind, and the mild glory of a rising moon in front---one fading,
and the other brightening---as I quitted the park, and climbed the
stony by-road branching off to Mr.\ Heathcliff's dwelling. Before
I arrived in sight of it, all that remained of day was a beamless
amber light along the west: but I could see every pebble on the path,
and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon. I had neither to
climb the gate nor to knock---it yielded to my hand. That is an improvement,
I thought. And I noticed another, by the aid of my nostrils; a fragrance
of stocks and wallflowers wafted on the air from amongst the homely
fruit-trees.

Both doors and lattices were open; and yet, as is usually the case
in a coal-district, a fine red fire illumined the chimney: the comfort
which the eye derives from it renders the extra heat endurable. But
the house of Wuthering Heights is so large that the inmates have plenty
of space for withdrawing out of its influence; and accordingly what
inmates there were had stationed themselves not far from one of the
windows. I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered,
and looked and listened in consequence; being moved thereto by a mingled
sense of curiosity and envy, that grew as I lingered.

`Con-\emph{trary}!'\ said a voice as sweet as a silver bell. `That
for the third time, you dunce! I'm not going to tell you again. Recollect,
or I'll pull your hair!'

`Contrary, then,' answered another, in deep but softened tones. `And
now, kiss me, for minding so well.'

`No, read it over first correctly, without a single mistake.'

The male speaker began to read: he was a young man, respectably dressed
and seated at a table, having a book before him. His handsome features
glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept impatiently wandering from
the page to a small white hand over his shoulder, which recalled him
by a smart slap on the cheek, whenever its owner detected such signs
of inattention. Its owner stood behind; her light, shining ringlets
blending, at intervals, with his brown looks, as she bent to superintend
his studies; and her face---it was lucky he could not see her face,
or he would never have been so steady. I could; and I bit my lip in
spite, at having thrown away the chance I might have had of doing
something besides staring at its smiting beauty.

The task was done, not free from further blunders; but the pupil claimed
a reward, and received at least five kisses; which, however, he generously
returned. Then they came to the door, and from their conversation
I judged they were about to issue out and have a walk on the moors.
I supposed I should be condemned in Hareton Earnshaw's heart, if not
by his mouth, to the lowest pit in the infernal regions if I showed
my unfortunate person in his neighbourhood then; and feeling very
mean and malignant, I skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen.
There was unobstructed admittance on that side also; and at the door
sat my old friend Nelly Dean, sewing and singing a song; which was
often interrupted from within by harsh words of scorn and intolerance,
uttered in far from musical accents.

`I'd rayther, by th' haulf, hev' 'em swearing i' my lugs fro'h morn
to neeght, nor hearken ye hahsiver!'\ said the tenant of the kitchen,
in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly's. `It's a blazing shame,
that I cannot oppen t' blessed Book, but yah set up them glories to
sattan, and all t' flaysome wickednesses that iver were born into
th' warld! Oh!\ ye're a raight nowt; and shoo's another; and that
poor lad `ll be lost atween ye. Poor lad!'\ he added, with a groan;
`he's witched: I'm sartin on't. Oh, Lord, judge 'em, for there's norther
law nor justice among wer rullers!'

`No!\ or we should be sitting in flaming fagots, I suppose,' retorted
the singer. `But wisht, old man, and read your Bible like a Christian,
and never mind me. This is {}``Fairy Annie's Wedding\char`\"{}---a
bonny tune---it goes to a dance.'

Mrs.\ Dean was about to recommence, when I advanced; and recognising
me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying---`Why, bless you, Mr.\ Lockwood!
How could you think of returning in this way? All's shut up at Thrushcross
Grange. You should have given us notice!'

`I've arranged to be accommodated there, for as long as I shall stay,'
I answered. `I depart again to-morrow. And how are you transplanted
here, Mrs.\ Dean? tell me that.'

`Zillah left, and Mr.\ Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you
went to London, and stay till you returned. But, step in, pray! Have
you walked from Gimmerton this evening?'

`From the Grange,' I replied; `and while they make me lodging room
there, I want to finish my business with your master; because I don't
think of having another opportunity in a hurry.'

`What business, sir?'\ said Nelly, conducting me into the house.
`He's gone out at present, and won't return soon.'

`About the rent,' I answered.

`Oh!\ then it is with Mrs.\ Heathcliff you must settle,' she observed;
`or rather with me. She has not learnt to manage her affairs yet,
and I act for her: there's nobody else.'

I looked surprised.

`Ah!\ you have not heard of Heathcliff's death, I see,' she continued.

`Heathcliff dead!'\ I exclaimed, astonished. `How long ago?'

`Three months since: but sit down, and let me take your hat, and I'll
tell you all about it. Stop, you have had nothing to eat, have you?'

`I want nothing: I have ordered supper at home. You sit down too.
I never dreamt of his dying! Let me hear how it came to pass. You
say you don't expect them back for some time---the young people?'

`No---I have to scold them every evening for their late rambles: but
they don't care for me. At least, have a drink of our old ale; it
will do you good: you seem weary.'

She hastened to fetch it before I could refuse, and I heard Joseph
asking whether `it warn't a crying scandal that she should have followers
at her time of life? And then, to get them jocks out o' t' maister's
cellar! He fair shaamed to `bide still and see it.'

She did not stay to retaliate, but re-entered in a minute, bearing
a reaming silver pint, whose contents I lauded with becoming earnestness.
And afterwards she furnished me with the sequel of Heathcliff's history.
He had a `queer' end, as she expressed it.

I was summoned to Wuthering Heights, within a fortnight of your leaving
us, she said; and I obeyed joyfully, for Catherine's sake. My first
interview with her grieved and shocked me: she had altered so much
since our separation. Mr.\ Heathcliff did not explain his reasons
for taking a new mind about my coming here; he only told me he wanted
me, and he was tired of seeing Catherine: I must make the little parlour
my sitting-room, and keep her with me. It was enough if he were obliged
to see her once or twice a day. She seemed pleased at this arrangement;
and, by degrees, I smuggled over a great number of books, and other
articles, that had formed her amusement at the Grange; and flattered
myself we should get on in tolerable comfort. The delusion did not
last long. Catherine, contented at first, in a brief space grew irritable
and restless. For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the
garden, and it fretted her sadly to be confined to its narrow bounds
as spring drew on; for another, in following the house, I was forced
to quit her frequently, and she complained of loneliness: she preferred
quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen to sitting at peace in her
solitude. I did not mind their skirmishes: but Hareton was often obliged
to seek the kitchen also, when the master wanted to have the house
to himself!\ and though in the beginning she either left it at his
approach, or quietly joined in my occupations, and shunned remarking
or addressing him---and though he was always as sullen and silent
as possible---after a while, she changed her behaviour, and became
incapable of letting him alone: talking at him; commenting on his
stupidity and idleness; expressing her wonder how he could endure
the life he lived---how he could sit a whole evening staring into
the fire, and dozing.

`He's just like a dog, is he not, Ellen?'\ she once observed, `or
a cart-horse? He does his work, eats his food, and sleeps eternally!
What a blank, dreary mind he must have! Do you ever dream, Hareton?
And, if you do, what is it about? But you can't speak to me!'

Then she looked at him; but he would neither open his mouth nor look
again.

`He's, perhaps, dreaming now,' she continued. `He twitched his shoulder
as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen.'

`Mr.\ Hareton will ask the master to send you up-stairs, if you don't
behave!'\ I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder but clenched
his fist, as if tempted to use it.

`I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen,' she exclaimed,
on another occasion. `He is afraid I shall laugh at him. Ellen, what
do you think? He began to teach himself to read once; and, because
I laughed, he burned his books, and dropped it: was he not a fool?'

`Were not you naughty?'\ I said; `answer me that.'

`Perhaps I was,' she went on; `but I did not expect him to be so silly.
Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try!'

She placed one she had been perusing on his hand; he flung it off,
and muttered, if she did not give over, he would break her neck.

`Well, I shall put it here,' she said, `in the table-drawer; and I'm
going to bed.'

Then she whispered me to watch whether he touched it, and departed.
But he would not come near it; and so I informed her in the morning,
to her great disappointment. I saw she was sorry for his persevering
sulkiness and indolence: her conscience reproved her for frightening
him off improving himself: she had done it effectually. But her ingenuity
was at work to remedy the injury: while I ironed, or pursued other
such stationary employments as I could not well do in the parlour,
she would bring some pleasant volume and read it aloud to me. When
Hareton was there, she generally paused in an interesting part, and
left the book lying about: that she did repeatedly; but he was as
obstinate as a mule, and, instead of snatching at her bait, in wet
weather he took to smoking with Joseph; and they sat like automatons,
one on each side of the fire, the elder happily too deaf to understand
her wicked nonsense, as he would have called it, the younger doing
his best to seem to disregard it. On fine evenings the latter followed
his shooting expeditions, and Catherine yawned and sighed, and teased
me to talk to her, and ran off into the court or garden the moment
I began; and, as a last resource, cried, and said she was tired of
living: her life was useless.

Mr.\ Heathcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had
almost banished Earnshaw from his apartment. Owing to an accident
at the commencement of March, he became for some days a fixture in
the kitchen. His gun burst while out on the hills by himself; a splinter
cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach
home. The consequence was that, perforce, he was condemned to the
fireside and tranquillity, till he made it up again. It suited Catherine
to have him there: at any rate, it made her hate her room up-stairs
more than ever: and she would compel me to find out business below,
that she might accompany me.

On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimmerton fair with some cattle;
and, in the afternoon, I was busy getting up linen in the kitchen.
Earnshaw sat, morose as usual, at the chimney corner, and my little
mistress was beguiling an idle hour with drawing pictures on the window-panes,
varying her amusement by smothered bursts of songs, and whispered
ejaculations, and quick glances of annoyance and impatience in the
direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and looked into the
grate. At a notice that I could do with her no longer intercepting
my light, she removed to the hearthstone. I bestowed little attention
on her proceedings, but, presently, I heard her begin---`I've found
out, Hareton, that I want---that I'm glad---that I should like you
to be my cousin now, if you had not grown so cross to me, and so rough.'

Hareton returned no answer.

`Hareton, Hareton, Hareton!\ do you hear?'\ she continued.

`Get off wi' ye!'\ he growled, with uncompromising gruffness.

`Let me take that pipe,' she said, cautiously advancing her hand and
abstracting it from his mouth.

Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken, and behind the
fire. He swore at her and seized another.

`Stop,' she cried, `you must listen to me first; and I can't speak
while those clouds are floating in my face.'

`Will you go to the devil!'\ he exclaimed, ferociously, `and let
me be!'

`No,' she persisted, `I won't: I can't tell what to do to make you
talk to me; and you are determined not to understand. When I call
you stupid, I don't mean anything: I don't mean that I despise you.
Come, you shall take notice of me, Hareton: you are my cousin, and
you shall own me.'

`I shall have naught to do wi' you and your mucky pride, and your
damned mocking tricks!'\ he answered. `I'll go to hell, body and
soul, before I look sideways after you again. Side out o' t' gate,
now, this minute!'

Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip,
and endeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing
tendency to sob.

`You should be friends with your cousin, Mr.\ Hareton,' I interrupted,
`since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal
of good: it would make you another man to have her for a companion.'

`A companion!'\ he cried; `when she hates me, and does not think
me fit to wipe her shoon! Nay, if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned
for seeking her good-will any more.'

`It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!'\ wept Cathy, no
longer disguising her trouble. `You hate me as much as Mr.\ Heathcliff
does, and more.'

`You're a damned liar,' began Earnshaw: `why have I made him angry,
by taking your part, then, a hundred times? and that when you sneered
at and despised me, and---Go on plaguing me, and I'll step in yonder,
and say you worried me out of the kitchen!'

`I didn't know you took my part,' she answered, drying her eyes; `and
I was miserable and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and
beg you to forgive me: what can I do besides?'

She returned to the hearth, and frankly extended her hand. He blackened
and scowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched,
and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have
divined it was obdurate perversity, and not dislike, that prompted
this dogged conduct; for, after remaining an instant undecided, she
stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle kiss. The little rogue
thought I had not seen her, and, drawing back, she took her former
station by the window, quite demurely. I shook my head reprovingly,
and then she blushed and whispered---`Well!\ what should I have done,
Ellen? He wouldn't shake hands, and he wouldn't look: I must show
him some way that I like him---that I want to be friends.'

Whether the kiss convinced Hareton, I cannot tell: he was very careful,
for some minutes, that his face should not be seen, and when he did
raise it, he was sadly puzzled where to turn his eyes.

Catherine employed herself in wrapping a handsome book neatly in white
paper, and having tied it with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it to
`Mr.\ Hareton Earnshaw,' she desired me to be her ambassadress, and
convey the present to its destined recipient.

`And tell him, if he'll take it, I'll come and teach him to read it
right,' she said; `and, if he refuse it, I'll go upstairs, and never
tease him again.'

I carried it, and repeated the message; anxiously watched by my employer.
Hareton would not open his fingers, so I laid it on his knee. He did
not strike it off, either. I returned to my work. Catherine leaned
her head and arms on the table, till she heard the slight rustle of
the covering being removed; then she stole away, and quietly seated
herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his face glowed: all his
rudeness and all his surly harshness had deserted him: he could not
summon courage, at first, to utter a syllable in reply to her questioning
look, and her murmured petition.

`Say you forgive me, Hareton, do. You can make me so happy by speaking
that little word.'

He muttered something inaudible.

`And you'll be my friend?'\ added Catherine, interrogatively.

`Nay, you'll be ashamed of me every day of your life,' he answered;
`and the more ashamed, the more you know me; and I cannot bide it.'

`So you won't be my friend?'\ she said, smiling as sweet as honey,
and creeping close up.

I overheard no further distinguishable talk, but, on looking round
again, I perceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page
of the accepted book, that I did not doubt the treaty had been ratified
on both sides; and the enemies were, thenceforth, sworn allies.

The work they studied was full of costly pictures; and those and their
position had charm enough to keep them unmoved till Joseph came home.
He, poor man, was perfectly aghast at the spectacle of Catherine seated
on the same bench with Hareton Earnshaw, leaning her hand on his shoulder;
and confounded at his favourite's endurance of her proximity: it affected
him too deeply to allow an observation on the subject that night.
His emotion was only revealed by the immense sighs he drew, as he
solemnly spread his large Bible on the table, and overlaid it with
dirty bank-notes from his pocket-book, the produce of the day's transactions.
At length he summoned Hareton from his seat.

`Tak' these in to t' maister, lad,' he said, `and bide there. I's
gang up to my own rahm. This hoile's neither mensful nor seemly for
us: we mun side out and seearch another.'

`Come, Catherine,' I said, `we must {}``side out'' too: I've done
my ironing. Are you ready to go?'

`It is not eight o'clock!'\ she answered, rising unwillingly.

`Hareton, I'll leave this book upon the chimney-piece, and I'll bring
some more to-morrow.'

`Ony books that yah leave, I shall tak' into th' hahse,' said Joseph,
`and it'll be mitch if yah find 'em agean; soa, yah may plase yerseln!'

Cathy threatened that his library should pay for hers; and, smiling
as she passed Hareton, went singing up-stairs: lighter of heart, I
venture to say, than ever she had been under that roof before; except,
perhaps, during her earliest visits to Linton.

The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly; though it encountered temporary
interruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, and my
young lady was no philosopher, and no paragon of patience; but both
their minds tending to the same point---one loving and desiring to
esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed---they contrived
in the end to reach it.

You see, Mr.\ Lockwood, it was easy enough to win Mrs.\ Heathcliff's
heart. But now, I'm glad you did not try. The crown of all my wishes
will be the union of those two. I shall envy no one on their wedding
day: there won't be a happier woman than myself in England!


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXXIII}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXXIII}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{CHAPTER XXXIII}

On the morrow of that Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to follow
his ordinary employments, and therefore remaining about the house,
I speedily found it would be impracticable to retain my charge beside
me, as heretofore. She got downstairs before me, and out into the
garden, where she had seen her cousin performing some easy work; and
when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I saw she had persuaded
him to clear a large space of ground from currant and gooseberry bushes,
and they were busy planning together an importation of plants from
the Grange.

I was terrified at the devastation which had been accomplished in
a brief half-hour; the black-currant trees were the apple of Joseph's
eye, and she had just fixed her choice of a flower-bed in the midst
of them.

`There! That will be all shown to the master,' I exclaimed, `the minute
it is discovered. And what excuse have you to offer for taking such
liberties with the garden? We shall have a fine explosion on the head
of it: see if we don't! Mr.\ Hareton, I wonder you should have no
more wit than to go and make that mess at her bidding!'

`I'd forgotten they were Joseph's,' answered Earnshaw, rather puzzled;
`but I'll tell him I did it.'

We always ate our meals with Mr.\ Heathcliff. I held the mistress's
post in making tea and carving; so I was indispensable at table. Catherine
usually sat by me, but to-day she stole nearer to Hareton; and I presently
saw she would have no more discretion in her friendship than she had
in her hostility.

`Now, mind you don't talk with and notice your cousin too much,' were
my whispered instructions as we entered the room. `It will certainly
annoy Mr.\ Heathcliff, and he'll be mad at you both.'

`I'm not going to,' she answered.

The minute after, she had sidled to him, and was sticking primroses
in his plate of porridge.

He dared not speak to her there: he dared hardly look; and yet she
went on teasing, 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 other subjects than his company, as his countenance
evinced; and she grew serious for an instant, scrutinizing him with
deep gravity. Afterwards she turned, and recommenced her nonsense;
at last, Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr.\ Heathcliff started;
his eye rapidly surveyed our faces, Catherine met it with her accustomed
look of nervousness and yet defiance, which he abhorred.

`It is well you are out of my reach,' he exclaimed. `What fiend possesses
you to stare back at me, continually, with those infernal eyes? Down
with them!\ and don't remind me of your existence again. I thought
I had cured you of laughing.'

`It was me,' muttered Hareton.

`What do you say?'\ demanded the master.

Hareton looked at his plate, and did not repeat the confession. Mr.\ Heathcliff
looked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his breakfast and his
interrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and the two young people
prudently shifted wider asunder, so I anticipated no further disturbance
during that sitting: when Joseph appeared at the door, revealing by
his quivering lip and furious eyes that the outrage committed on his
precious shrubs was detected. He must have seen Cathy and her cousin
about the spot before he examined it, for while his jaws worked like
those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered his speech difficult
to understand, he began:-

`I mun hev' my wage, and I mun goa! I \emph{hed} aimed to dee wheare
I'd sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I'd lug my books up into t'
garret, and all my bits o' stuff, and they sud hev' t' kitchen to
theirseln; for t' sake o' quietness. It wur hard to gie up my awn
hearthstun, but I thowt I \textit{could} do that! But nah, shoo's
taan my garden fro' me, and by th' heart, maister, I cannot stand
it! Yah may bend to th' yoak 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 you and Nelly.
She may thrust you into the coal-hole for anything I care.'

`It's noan Nelly!'\ answered Joseph. `I sudn't shift for Nelly---nasty
ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! \textit{Shoo} cannot stale t' sowl
o' nob'dy! Shoo wer niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at
her 'bout winking. It's yon flaysome, graceless quean, that's witched
our lad, wi' her bold een and her forrard ways---till---Nay!\ it
fair brusts my heart! He's forgotten all I've done for him, and made
on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o' t' grandest currant-trees
i' t' garden!'\ and here he lamented outright; unmanned by a sense
of his bitter injuries, and Earnshaw's ingratitude and dangerous condition.

`Is the fool drunk?'\ asked Mr.\ Heathcliff. `Hareton, is it you
he's finding fault with?'

`I've pulled up two or three bushes,' replied the young man; `but
I'm going to set 'em again.'

`And why have you pulled them up?'\ said the master.

Catherine wisely put in her tongue.

`We wanted to plant some flowers there,' she cried. `I'm the only
person to blame, for I wished him to do it.'

`And who the devil gave \textit{you} leave to touch a stick about
the place?'\ demanded her father-in-law, much surprised. `And who
ordered \textit{you} to obey her?'\ he added, turning to Hareton.

The latter was speechless; his cousin replied---`You shouldn't grudge
a few yards of earth for me to ornament, when you have taken all my
land!'

`Your land, insolent slut! You never had any,' said Heathcliff.

`And my money,' she continued; returning his angry glare, and meantime
biting a piece of crust, the remnant of her breakfast.

`Silence!'\ he exclaimed. `Get done, and begone!'

`And Hareton's land, and his money,' pursued the reckless thing. `Hareton
and I are friends now; and I shall tell him all about you!'

The master seemed confounded a moment: he grew pale, and rose up,
eyeing her all the while, with an expression of mortal hate.

`If you strike me, Hareton will strike you,' she said; `so you may
as well sit down.'

`If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I'll strike him to
hell,' thundered Heathcliff. `Damnable witch!\ dare you pretend to
rouse him against me? Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the
kitchen! I'll kill her, Ellen Dean, if you let her come into my sight
again!'

Hareton tried, under his breath, to persuade her to go.

`Drag her away!'\ he cried, savagely. `Are you staying to talk?'
And he approached to execute his own command.

`He'll not obey you, wicked man, any more,' said Catherine; `and he'll
soon detest you as much as I do.'

`Wisht!\ wisht!'\ muttered the young man, reproachfully; `I will
not hear you speak so to him. Have done.'

`But you won't let him strike me?'\ she cried.

`Come, then,' he whispered earnestly.

It was too late: Heathcliff had caught hold of her.

`Now, \textit{you} go!'\ he said to Earnshaw. `Accursed witch!\ this
time she has provoked me when I could not bear it; and I'll make her
repent it for ever!'

He had his hand in her hair; Hareton attempted to release her looks,
entreating him not to hurt her that once. Heathcliff's black eyes
flashed; he seemed ready to tear Catherine in pieces, and I was just
worked up to risk coming to the rescue, when of a sudden his fingers
relaxed; he shifted his grasp from her head to her arm, and gazed
intently in her face. Then he drew his hand over his eyes, stood a
moment to collect himself apparently, and turning anew to Catherine,
said, with assumed calmness---`You must learn to avoid putting me
in a passion, or I shall really murder you some time! Go with Mrs.\ Dean,
and keep with her; and confine your insolence to her ears. As to Hareton
Earnshaw, if I see him listen to you, I'll send him seeking his bread
where he can get it! Your love will make him an outcast and a beggar.
Nelly, take her; and leave me, all of you! Leave me!'

I led my young lady out: she was too glad of her escape to resist;
the other followed, and Mr.\ Heathcliff had the room to himself till
dinner. I had counselled Catherine to dine up-stairs; but, as soon
as he perceived her vacant seat, he sent me to call her. He spoke
to none of us, ate very little, and went out directly afterwards,
intimating that he should not return before evening.

The two new friends established themselves in the house during his
absence; where I heard Hareton sternly cheek his cousin, on her offering
a revelation of her father-in-law's conduct to his father. He said
he wouldn't suffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement: if he
were the devil, it didn't signify; he would stand by him; and he'd
rather she would abuse himself, as she used to, than begin on Mr.\ Heathcliff.
Catherine was waxing cross at this; but he found means to make her
hold her tongue, by asking how she would like \textit{him} to speak
ill of her father? Then she comprehended that Earnshaw took the master's
reputation home to himself; and was attached by ties stronger than
reason could break---chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel
to attempt to loosen. She showed a good heart, thenceforth, in avoiding
both complaints and expressions of antipathy concerning Heathcliff;
and confessed to me her sorrow that she had endeavoured to raise a
bad spirit between him and Hareton: indeed, I don't believe she has
ever breathed a syllable, in the latter's hearing, against her oppressor
since.

When this slight disagreement was over, they were friends again, and
as busy as possible in their several occupations of pupil and teacher.
I came in to sit with them, after I had done my work; and I felt so
soothed and comforted to watch them, that I did not notice how time
got on. You know, they both appeared in a measure my children: I had
long been proud of one; and now, I was sure, the other would be a
source of equal satisfaction. His honest, warm, and intelligent nature
shook off rapidly the clouds of ignorance and degradation in which
it had been bred; and Catherine's sincere commendations acted as a
spur to his industry. His brightening mind brightened his features,
and added spirit and nobility to their aspect: I could hardly fancy
it the same individual I had beheld on the day I discovered my little
lady at Wuthering Heights, after her expedition to the Crags. While
I admired and they laboured, dusk drew on, and with it returned the
master. He came upon us quite unexpectedly, entering by the front
way, and had a full view of the whole three, ere we could raise our
heads to glance at him. Well, I reflected, there was never a pleasanter,
or more harmless sight; and it will be a burning shame to scold them.
The red fire-light glowed on their two bonny heads, and revealed their
faces animated with the eager interest of children; for, though he
was twenty-three and she eighteen, each had so much of novelty to
feel and learn, that neither experienced nor evinced the sentiments
of sober disenchanted maturity.

They lifted their eyes together, to encounter Mr.\ Heathcliff: perhaps
you have never remarked that their eyes are precisely similar, and
they are those of Catherine Earnshaw. The present Catherine has no
other likeness to her, except a breadth of forehead, and a certain
arch of the nostril that makes her appear rather haughty, whether
she will or not. With Hareton the resemblance is carried farther:
it is singular at all times, \textit{then} it was particularly striking;
because his senses were alert, and his mental faculties wakened to
unwonted activity. I suppose this resemblance disarmed Mr.\ Heathcliff:
he walked to the hearth in evident agitation; but it quickly subsided
as he looked at the young man: or, I should say, altered its character;
for it was there yet. He took the book from his hand, and glanced
at the open page, then returned it without any observation; merely
signing Catherine away: her companion lingered very little behind
her, and I was about to depart also, but he bid me sit still.

`It is a poor conclusion, is it not?'\ he observed, having brooded
awhile on the scene he had just witnessed: `an absurd termination
to my violent exertions? I get levers and mattocks to demolish the
two houses, and train myself to be capable of working like Hercules,
and when everything is ready and in my power, I find the will to lift
a slate off either roof has vanished! My old enemies have not beaten
me; now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their representatives:
I could do it; and none could hinder me. But where is the use? I don't
care for striking: I can't take the trouble to raise my hand! That
sounds as if I had been labouring the whole time only to exhibit a
fine trait of magnanimity. It is far from being the case: I have lost
the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy
for nothing.

`Nelly, there is a strange change approaching; I'm in its shadow at
present. I take so little interest in my daily life that I hardly
remember to eat and drink. Those two who have left the room are the
only objects which retain a distinct material appearance to me; and
that appearance causes me pain, amounting to agony. About \textit{her}
I won't speak; and I don't desire to think; but I earnestly wish she
were invisible: her presence invokes only maddening sensations. \textit{He}
moves me differently: and yet if I could do it without seeming insane,
I'd never see him again! You'll perhaps think me rather inclined to
become so,' he added, making an effort to smile, `if I try to describe
the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he awakens or embodies.
But you'll not talk of what I tell you; and my mind is so eternally
secluded in itself, it is tempting at last to turn it out to another.

`Five minutes ago Hareton seemed a personification of my youth, not
a human being; I felt to him in such a variety of ways, that it would
have been impossible to have accosted him rationally. In the first
place, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully
with her. That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to
arrest my imagination, is actually the least: for what is not connected
with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to
this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! In every cloud,
in every tree---filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in
every object by day---I am surrounded with her image! The most ordinary
faces of men and women---my own features---mock me with a resemblance.
The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did
exist, and that I have lost her! Well, Hareton's aspect was the ghost
of my immortal love; of my wild endeavours to hold my right; my degradation,
my pride, my happiness, and my anguish---

`But it is frenzy to repeat these thoughts to you: only it will let
you know why, with a reluctance to be always alone, his society is
no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer:
and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin
go on together. I can give them no attention any more.'

`But what do you mean by a \textit{change}, Mr.\ Heathcliff?'\ I
said, alarmed at his manner: though he was neither in danger of losing
his senses, nor dying, according to my judgment: he was quite strong
and healthy; and, as to his reason, from childhood he had a delight
in dwelling on dark things, and entertaining odd fancies. He might
have had a monomania on the subject of his departed idol; but on every
other point his wits were as sound as mine.

`I shall not know that till it comes,' he said; `I'm only half conscious
of it now.'

`You have no feeling of illness, have you?'\ I asked.

`No, Nelly, I have not,' he answered.

`Then you are not afraid of death?'\ I pursued.

`Afraid? No!'\ he replied. `I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment,
nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution and temperate
mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably
\textit{shall}, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black
hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have
to remind myself to breathe---almost to remind my heart to beat! And
it is like bending back a stiff spring: it is by compulsion that I
do the slightest act not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion
that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with
one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties
are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long, and
so unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be reached---and soon---because
it has devoured my existence: I am swallowed up in the anticipation
of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me; but they may
account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I
show. O God! It is a long fight; I wish it were over!'

He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself, till
I was inclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience
had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it
would end. Though he seldom before had revealed this state of mind,
even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt: he asserted
it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have conjectured
the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr.\ Lockwood: and at the
period of which I speak, he was just the same as then; only fonder
of continued solitude, and perhaps still more laconic in company.


\chapter*{\raggedright CHAPTER XXXIV}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{CHAPTER XXXIV}

\markboth{WUTHERING HEIGHTS}{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 an aversion to yielding so completely to his feelings,
choosing rather to absent himself; and eating once in twenty-four
hours seemed sufficient sustenance for him.

One night, after the family were in bed, I heard him go downstairs,
and out at the front door. I did not hear him re-enter, and in the
morning I found he was still away. We were in April then: the weather
was sweet and warm, the grass as green as showers and sun could make
it, and the two dwarf apple-trees near the southern wall in full bloom.
After breakfast, Catherine insisted on my bringing a chair and sitting
with my work under the fir-trees at the end of the house; and she
beguiled Hareton, who had perfectly recovered from his accident, to
dig and arrange her little garden, which was shifted to that corner
by the influence of Joseph's complaints. I was comfortably revelling
in the spring fragrance around, and the beautiful soft blue overhead,
when my young lady, who had run down near the gate to procure some
primrose roots for a border, returned only half laden, and informed
us that Mr.\ Heathcliff was coming in. `And he spoke to me,' she
added, with a perplexed countenance.

`What did he say?'\ asked Hareton.

`He told me to begone as fast as I could,' she answered. `But he looked
so different from his usual look that I stopped a moment to stare
at him.'

`How?'\ he inquired.

`Why, almost bright and cheerful. No, \textit{almost} nothing---\textit{very}
\textit{much} excited, and wild, and glad!'\ she replied.

`Night-walking amuses him, then,' I remarked, affecting a careless
manner: in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious to ascertain
the truth of her statement; for to see the master looking glad would
not be an every-day spectacle. I framed an excuse to go in. Heathcliff
stood at the open door; he was pale, and he trembled: yet, certainly,
he had a strange joyful glitter in his eyes, that altered the aspect
of his whole face.

`Will you have some breakfast?'\ I said. `You must be hungry, rambling
about all night!' I wanted to discover where he had been, but I did
not like to ask directly.

`No, I'm not hungry,' he answered, averting his head, and speaking
rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to divine the
occasion of his good humour.

I felt perplexed: I didn't know whether it were not a proper opportunity
to offer a bit of admonition.

`I don't think it right to wander out of doors,' I observed, `instead
of being in bed: it is not wise, at any rate this moist season. I
daresay you'll catch a bad cold or a fever: you have something the
matter with you now!'

`Nothing but what I can bear,' he replied; `and with the greatest
pleasure, provided you'll leave me alone: get in, and don't annoy
me.'

I obeyed: and, in passing, I noticed he breathed as fast as a cat.

`Yes!'\ I reflected to myself, `we shall have a fit of illness. I
cannot conceive what he has been doing.'

That noon he sat down to dinner with us, and received a heaped-up
plate from my hands, as if he intended to make amends for previous
fasting.

`I've neither cold nor fever, Nelly,' he remarked, in allusion to
my morning's speech; `and I'm ready to do justice to the food you
give me.'

He took his knife and fork, and was going to commence eating, when
the inclination appeared to become suddenly extinct. He laid them
on the table, looked eagerly towards the window, then rose and went
out. We saw him walking to and fro in the garden while we concluded
our meal, and Earnshaw said he'd go and ask why he would not dine:
he thought we had grieved him some way.

`Well, is he coming?'\ cried Catherine, when her cousin returned.

`Nay,' he answered; `but he's not angry: he seemed rarely pleased
indeed; only I made him impatient by speaking to him twice; and then
he bid me be off to you: he wondered how I could want the company
of anybody else.'

I set his plate to keep warm on the fender; and after an hour or two
he re-entered, when the room was clear, in no degree calmer: the same
unnatural---it was unnatural---appearance of joy under his black brows;
the same bloodless hue, and his teeth visible, now and then, in a
kind of smile; his frame shivering, not as one shivers with chill
or weakness, but as a tight-stretched cord vibrates---a strong thrilling,
rather than trembling.

I will ask what is the matter, I thought; or who should? And I exclaimed---`Have
you heard any good news, Mr.\ Heathcliff? You look uncommonly animated.'

`Where should good news come from to me?'\ he said. `I'm animated
with hunger; and, seemingly, I must not eat.'

`Your dinner is here,' I returned; `why won't you get it?'

`I don't want it now,' he muttered, hastily: `I'll wait till supper.
And, Nelly, once for all, let me beg you to warn Hareton and the other
away from me. I wish to be troubled by nobody: I wish to have this
place to myself.'

`Is there some new reason for this banishment?'\ I inquired. `Tell
me why you are so queer, Mr.\ Heathcliff? Where were you last night?
I'm not putting the question through idle curiosity, but---'

`You are putting the question through very idle curiosity,' he interrupted,
with a laugh. `Yet I'll answer it. Last night I was on the threshold
of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on
it: hardly three feet to sever me! And now you'd better go! You'll
neither see nor hear anything to frighten you, if you refrain from
prying.'

Having swept the hearth and wiped the table, I departed; more perplexed
than ever.

He did not quit the house again that afternoon, and no one intruded
on his solitude; till, at eight o'clock, I deemed it proper, though
unsummoned, to carry a candle and his supper to him. He was leaning
against the ledge of an open lattice, but not looking out: his face
was turned to the interior gloom. The fire had smouldered to ashes;
the room was filled with the damp, mild air of the cloudy evening;
and so still, that not only the murmur of the beck down Gimmerton
was distinguishable, but its ripples and its gurgling over the pebbles,
or through the large stones which it could not cover. I uttered an
ejaculation of discontent at seeing the dismal grate, and commenced
shutting the casements, one after another, till I came to his.

`Must I close this?'\ I asked, in order to rouse him; for he would
not stir.

The light flashed on his features as I spoke. Oh, Mr.\ Lockwood,
I cannot express what a terrible start I got by the momentary view!
Those deep black eyes! That smile, and ghastly paleness! It appeared
to me, not Mr.\ Heathcliff, but a goblin; and, in my terror, I let
the candle bend towards the wall, and it left me in darkness.

`Yes, close it,' he replied, in his familiar voice. `There, that is
pure awkwardness! Why did you hold the candle horizontally? Be quick,
and bring another.'

I hurried out in a foolish state of dread, and said to Joseph---`The
master wishes you to take him a light and rekindle the fire.' For
I dared not go in myself again just then.

Joseph rattled some fire into the shovel, and went: but he brought
it back immediately, with the supper-tray in his other hand, explaining
that Mr.\ Heathcliff was going to bed, and he wanted nothing to eat
till morning. We heard him mount the stairs directly; he did not proceed
to his ordinary chamber, but turned into that with the panelled bed:
its window, as I mentioned before, is wide enough for anybody to get
through; and it struck me that he plotted another midnight excursion,
of which he had rather we had no suspicion.

`Is he a ghoul or a vampire?'\ I mused. I had read of such hideous
incarnate demons. And then I set myself to reflect how I had tended
him in infancy, and watched him grow to youth, and followed him almost
through his whole course; and what absurd nonsense it was to yield
to that sense of horror. `But where did he come from, the little dark
thing, harboured by a good man to his bane?'\ muttered Superstition,
as I dozed into unconsciousness. And I began, half dreaming, to weary
myself with imagining some fit parentage for him; and, repeating my
waking meditations, I tracked his existence over again, with grim
variations; at last, picturing his death and funeral: of which, all
I can remember is, being exceedingly vexed at having the task of dictating
an inscription for his monument, and consulting the sexton about it;
and, as he had no surname, and we could not tell his age, we were
obliged to content ourselves with the single word, `Heathcliff.' That
came true: we were. If you enter the kirkyard, you'll read, on his
headstone, only that, and the date of his death.

Dawn restored me to common sense. I rose, and went into the garden,
as soon as I could see, to ascertain if there were any footmarks under
his window. There were none. `He has stayed at home,' I thought, `and
he'll be all right to-day.' I prepared breakfast for the household,
as was my usual custom, but told Hareton and Catherine to get theirs
ere the master came down, for he lay late. They preferred taking it
out of doors, under the trees, and I set a little table to accommodate
them.

On my re-entrance, I found Mr.\ Heathcliff below. He and Joseph were
conversing about some farming business; he gave clear, minute directions
concerning the matter discussed, but he spoke rapidly, and turned
his head continually aside, and had the same excited expression, even
more exaggerated. When Joseph quitted the room he took his seat in
the place he generally chose, and I put a basin of coffee before him.
He drew it nearer, and then rested his arms on the table, and looked
at the opposite wall, as I supposed, surveying one particular portion,
up and down, with glittering, restless eyes, and with such eager interest
that he stopped breathing during half a minute together.

`Come now,' I exclaimed, pushing some bread against his hand, `eat
and drink that, while it is hot: it has been waiting near an hour.'

He didn't notice me, and yet he smiled. I'd rather have seen him gnash
his teeth than smile so.

`Mr.\ Heathcliff!\ master!'\ I cried, `don't, for God's sake, stare
as if you saw an unearthly vision.'

`Don't, for God's sake, shout so loud,' he replied. `Turn round, and
tell me, are we by ourselves?'

`Of course,' was my answer; `of course we are.'

Still, I involuntarily obeyed him, as if I was not quite sure. With
a sweep of his hand he cleared a vacant space in front among the breakfast
things, and leant forward to gaze more at his ease.

Now, I perceived he was not looking at the wall; for when I regarded
him alone, it seemed exactly that he gazed at something within two
yards' distance. And whatever it was, it communicated, apparently,
both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes: at least the anguished,
yet raptured, expression of his countenance suggested that idea. The
fancied object was not fixed, either: his eyes pursued it with unwearied
diligence, and, even in speaking to me, were never weaned away. I
vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food: if he
stirred to touch anything in compliance with my entreaties, if he
stretched his hand out to get a piece of bread, his fingers clenched
before they reached it, and remained on the table, forgetful of their
aim.

I sat, a model of patience, trying to attract his absorbed attention
from its engrossing speculation; till he grew irritable, and got up,
asking why I would not allow him to have his own time in taking his
meals? and saying that on the next occasion I needn't wait: I might
set the things down and go. Having uttered these words he left the
house, slowly sauntered down the garden path, and disappeared through
the gate.

The hours crept anxiously by: another evening came. I did not retire
to rest till late, and when I did, I could not sleep. He returned
after midnight, and, instead of going to bed, shut himself into the
room beneath. I listened, and tossed about, and, finally, dressed
and descended. It was too irksome to lie there, harassing my brain
with a hundred idle misgivings.

I distinguished Mr.\ Heathcliff's step, restlessly measuring the
floor, and he frequently broke the silence by a deep inspiration,
resembling a groan. He muttered detached words also; the only one
I could catch was the name of Catherine, coupled with some wild term
of endearment or suffering; and spoken as one would speak to a person
present; low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul. I
had not courage to walk straight into the apartment; but I desired
to divert him from his reverie, and therefore fell foul of the kitchen
fire, stirred it, and began to scrape the cinders. It drew him forth
sooner than I expected. He opened the door immediately, and said---`Nelly,
come here---is it morning? Come in with your light.'

`It is striking four,' I answered. `You want a candle to take up-stairs:
you might have lit one at this fire.'

`No, I don't wish to go up-stairs,' he said. `Come in, and kindle
\textit{me} a fire, and do anything there is to do about the room.'

`I must blow the coals red first, before I can carry any,' I replied,
getting a chair and the bellows

He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching distraction;
his heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space
for common breathing between.

`When day breaks I'll send for Green,' he said; `I wish to make some
legal inquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on those matters,
and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet; and how
to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate
it from the face of the earth.'

`I would not talk so, Mr.\ Heathcliff,' I interposed. `Let your will
be a while: you'll be spared to repent of your many injustices yet!
I never expected that your nerves would be disordered: they are, at
present, marvellously so, however; and almost entirely through your
own fault. The way you've passed these three last days might knock
up a Titan. Do take some food, and some repose. You need only look
at yourself in a glass to see how you require both. Your cheeks are
hollow, and your eyes 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, as soon as I possibly
can. But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest
within arms' length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then
I'll rest. Well, never mind Mr.\ Green: as to repenting of my injustices,
I've done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I'm too happy; and
yet I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my body, but does
not satisfy itself.'

`Happy, master?'\ I cried. `Strange happiness! If you would hear
me without being angry, I might offer some advice that would make
you happier.'

`What is that?'\ he asked. `Give it.'

`You are aware, Mr.\ Heathcliff,' I said, `that from the time you
were thirteen years old you have lived a selfish, unchristian life;
and probably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that period.
You must have forgotten the contents of the book, and you may not
have space to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send for some
one---some minister of any denomination, it does not matter which---to
explain it, and show you how very far you have erred from its precepts;
and how unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change takes place
before you die?'

`I'm rather obliged than angry, Nelly,' he said, `for you remind me
of the manner in which I desire to be buried. It is to be carried
to the churchyard in the evening. You and Hareton may, if you please,
accompany me: and mind, particularly, to notice that the sexton obeys
my directions concerning the two coffins! No minister need come; nor
need anything be said over me.---I tell you I have nearly attained
\textit{my} heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued and
uncovered by me.'

`And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast, and died by
that means, and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the kirk?'
I said, shocked at his godless indifference. `How would you like it?'

`They won't do that,' he replied: `if they did, you must have me removed
secretly; and if you neglect it you shall prove, practically, that
the dead are not annihilated!'

As soon as he heard the other members of the family stirring he retired
to his den, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph
and Hareton were at their work, he came into the kitchen again, and,
with a wild look, bid me come and sit in the house: he wanted somebody
with him. I declined; telling him plainly that his strange talk and
manner frightened me, and I had neither the nerve nor the will to
be his companion alone.

`I believe you think me a fiend,' he said, with his dismal laugh:
`something too horrible to live under a decent roof.' Then turning
to Catherine, who was there, and who drew behind me at his approach,
he added, half sneeringly,---`Will \textit{you} come, chuck? I'll
not hurt you. No!\ to you I've made myself worse than the devil.
Well, there is \textit{one} who won't shrink from my company! By God!\ she's
relentless. Oh, damn it! It's unutterably too much for flesh and blood
to bear---even mine.'

He solicited the society of no one more. At dusk he went into his
chamber. Through the whole night, and far into the morning, we heard
him groaning and murmuring to himself. Hareton was anxious to enter;
but I bid him fetch Mr.\ Kenneth, and he should go in and see him.
When he came, and I requested admittance and tried to open the door,
I found it locked; and Heathcliff bid us be damned. He was better,
and would be left alone; so the doctor went away.

The following evening was very wet: indeed, it poured down till day-dawn;
and, as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed the master's
window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in. He cannot
be in bed, I thought: those showers would drench him through. He must
either be up or out. But I'll make no more ado, I'll go boldly and
look.'

Having succeeded in obtaining entrance with another key, I ran to
unclose the panels, for the chamber was vacant; quickly pushing them
aside, I peeped in. Mr.\ Heathcliff was there---laid on his back.
His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and then he seemed
to smile. I could not think him dead: but his face and throat were
washed with rain; the bed-clothes dripped, and he was perfectly still.
The lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested
on the sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put
my fingers to it, I could doubt no more: he was dead and stark!

I hasped the window; I combed his black long hair from his forehead;
I tried to close his eyes: to extinguish, if possible, that frightful,
life-like gaze of exultation before any one else beheld it. They would
not shut: they seemed to sneer at my attempts; and his parted lips
and sharp white teeth sneered too! Taken with another fit of cowardice,
I cried out for Joseph. Joseph shuffled up and made a noise, but resolutely
refused to meddle with him.

`Th' divil's harried off his soul,' he cried, `and he may hev' his
carcass into t' bargin, for aught I care! Ech!\ what a wicked 'un
he looks, girning at death!'\ and the old sinner grinned in mockery.
I thought he intended to cut a caper round the bed; but suddenly composing
himself, he fell on his knees, and raised his hands, and returned
thanks that the lawful master and the ancient stock were restored
to their rights.

I felt stunned by the awful event; and my memory unavoidably recurred
to former times with a sort of oppressive sadness. But poor Hareton,
the most wronged, was the only one who really suffered much. He sat
by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter earnest. He pressed its
hand, and kissed the sarcastic, savage face that every one else shrank
from contemplating; and bemoaned him with that strong grief which
springs naturally from a generous heart, though it be tough as tempered
steel.

Mr.\ Kenneth was perplexed to pronounce of what disorder the master
died. I concealed the fact of his having swallowed nothing for four
days, fearing it might lead to trouble, and then, I am persuaded,
he did not abstain on purpose: it was the consequence of his strange
illness, not the cause.

We buried him, to the scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he wished.
Earnshaw and I, the sexton, and six men to carry the coffin, comprehended
the whole attendance. The six men departed when they had let it down
into the grave: we stayed to see it covered. Hareton, with a streaming
face, dug green sods, and laid them over the brown mould himself:
at present it is as smooth and verdant as its companion mounds---and
I hope its tenant sleeps as soundly. But the country folks, if you
ask them, would swear on the Bible that he \textit{walks}: there are
those who speak to having met him near the church, and on the moor,
and even within this house. Idle tales, you'll say, and so say I.\ 
Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms he has seen two on 'em
looking out of his chamber window on every rainy night since his death:---and
an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going to the
Grange one evening---a dark evening, threatening thunder---and, just
at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a little boy with a sheep
and two lambs before him; he was crying terribly; and I supposed the
lambs were skittish, and would not be guided.

`What is the matter, my little man?'\ I asked.

`There's Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t' nab,' he blubbered,
`un' I darnut pass 'em.'

I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on so I bid him
take the road lower down. He probably raised the phantoms from thinking,
as he traversed the moors alone, on the nonsense he had heard his
parents and companions repeat. Yet, still, I don't like being out
in the dark now; and I don't like being left by myself in this grim
house: I cannot help it; I shall be glad when they leave it, and shift
to the Grange.

`They are going to the Grange, then?'\ I said.

`Yes,' answered Mrs.\ Dean, `as soon as they are married, and that
will be on New Year's Day.'

`And who will live here then?'

`Why, Joseph will take care of the house, and, perhaps, a lad to keep
him company. They will live in the kitchen, and the rest will be shut
up.'

`For the use of such ghosts as choose to inhabit it?'\ I observed.

`No, Mr.\ Lockwood,' said Nelly, shaking her head. `I believe the
dead are at peace: but it is not right to speak of them with levity.'

At that moment the garden gate swung to; the ramblers were returning.

`\textit{They} are afraid of nothing,' I grumbled, watching their
approach through the window. `Together, they would brave Satan and
all his legions.'

As they stepped on to the door-stones, and halted to take a last look
at the moon---or, more correctly, at each other by her light---I felt
irresistibly impelled to escape them again; and, pressing a remembrance
into the hand of Mrs.\ Dean, and disregarding her expostulations
at my rudeness, I vanished through the kitchen as they opened the
house-door; and so should have confirmed Joseph in his opinion of
his fellow-servant's gay indiscretions, had he not fortunately recognised
me for a respectable character by the sweet ring of a sovereign at
his feet.

My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the
kirk. When beneath its walls, I perceived decay had made progress,
even in seven months: many a window showed black gaps deprived of
glass; and slates jutted off here and there, beyond the right line
of the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms.

I sought, and soon discovered, the three headstones on the slope next
the moor: on middle one grey, and half buried in the heath; Edgar
Linton's only harmonized by the turf and moss creeping up its foot;
Heathcliff's still bare.

I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering
among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing
through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet
slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. 
\end{document}
