Wuthering Heights
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 harsh, tell me?”
“Yesterday,” sobbed Isabella, “and now!”
“Yesterday!” said her sister-in-law. “On what occasion?”
“In our walk along the moor: you told me to ramble where I pleased,
while you sauntered on with Mr. Heathcliff!”
“And that’s your notion of harshness?” said Catherine, laughing. “It
was no hint that your company was superfluous; we didn’t care whether
you kept with us or not; I merely thought Heathcliff’s talk would have
nothing entertaining for your ears.”
“Oh, no,” wept the young lady; “you wished me away, because you knew I
liked to be there!”
“Is she sane?” asked Mrs. Linton, appealing to me. “I’ll repeat our
conversation, word for word, Isabella; and you point out any charm it
could have had for you.”
“I don’t mind the conversation,” she answered: “I wanted to be with—”
“Well?” said Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete the
sentence.
“With him: and I won’t be always sent off!” she continued, kindling up.
“You are a dog in the manger, Cathy, and desire no one to be loved but
yourself!”
“You are an impertinent little monkey!” exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in
surprise. “But I’ll not believe this idiocy! It is impossible that you
can covet the admiration of Heathcliff—that you consider him an
agreeable person! I hope I have misunderstood you, Isabella?”
“No, you have not,” said the infatuated girl. “I love him more than
ever you loved Edgar, and he might love me, if you would let him!”
“I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom, then!” Catherine declared,
emphatically: and she seemed to speak sincerely. “Nelly, help me to
convince her of her madness. Tell her what Heathcliff is: an
unreclaimed creature, without refinement, without cultivation; an arid
wilderness of furze and whinstone. I’d as soon put that little canary
into the park on a winter’s day, as recommend you to bestow your heart
on him! It is deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing
else, which makes that dream enter your head. Pray, don’t imagine that
he conceals depths of benevolence and affection beneath a stern
exterior! He’s not a rough diamond—a pearl-containing oyster of a
rustic: he’s a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him, ‘Let
this or that enemy alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to
harm them;’ I say, ‘Let them alone, because _I_ should hate them to be
wronged:’ and he’d crush you like a sparrow’s egg, Isabella, if he
found you a troublesome charge. I know he couldn’t love a Linton; and
yet he’d be quite capable of marrying your fortune and expectations:
avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. There’s my picture: and
I’m his friend—so much so, that had he thought seriously to catch you,
I should, perhaps, have held my tongue, and let you fall into his
trap.”
Miss Linton regarded her sister-in-law with indignation.
“For shame! for shame!” she repeated, angrily. “You are worse than
twenty foes, you poisonous friend!”
“Ah! you won’t believe me, then?” said Catherine. “You think I speak
from wicked selfishness?”
“I’m certain you do,” retorted Isabella; “and I shudder at you!”
“Good!” cried the other. “Try for yourself, if that be your spirit: I
have done, and yield the argument to your saucy insolence.”—
“And I must suffer for her egotism!” she sobbed, as Mrs. Linton left
the room. “All, all is against me: she has blighted my single
consolation. But she uttered falsehoods, didn’t she? Mr. Heathcliff is
not a fiend: he has an honourable soul, and a true one, or how could he
remember her?”
“Banish him from your thoughts, Miss,” I said. “He’s a bird of bad
omen: no mate for you. Mrs. Linton spoke strongly, and yet I can’t
contradict her. She is better acquainted with his heart than I, or any
one besides; and she never would represent him as worse than he is.
Honest people don’t hide their deeds. How has he been living? how has
he got rich? why is he staying at Wuthering Heights, the house of a man
whom he abhors? They say Mr. Earnshaw is worse and worse since he came.
They sit up all night together continually, and Hindley has been
borrowing money on his land, and does nothing but play and drink: I
heard only a week ago—it was Joseph who told me—I met him at Gimmerton:
‘Nelly,’ he said, ‘we’s hae a crowner’s ’quest enow, at ahr folks’. One
on ’em ’s a’most getten his finger cut off wi’ hauding t’ other fro’
stickin’ hisseln loike a cawlf. That’s maister, yah knaw, ’at ’s soa
up o’ going tuh t’ grand ’sizes. He’s noan feared o’ t’ bench o’
judges, norther Paul, nur Peter, nur John, nur Matthew, nor noan on
’em, not he! He fair likes—he langs to set his brazened face agean ’em!
And yon bonny lad Heathcliff, yah mind, he’s a rare ’un. He can girn a
laugh as well ’s onybody at a raight divil’s jest. Does he niver say
nowt of his fine living amang us, when he goes to t’ Grange? This is t’
way on ’t:—up at sun-down: dice, brandy, cloised shutters, und
can’le-light till next day at noon: then, t’ fooil gangs banning un
raving to his cham’er, makking 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