Wuthering Heights
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’—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 upstairs, if you don’t
behave!” I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder but clenched his
fist, as if tempted to use it.
“I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen,” she
exclaimed, on another occasion. “He is afraid I shall laugh at him.
Ellen, what do you think? He began to teach himself to read once; and,
because I laughed, he burned his books, and dropped it: was he not a
fool?”
“Were not you naughty?” I said; “answer me that.”
“Perhaps I was,” she went on; “but I did not expect him to be so silly.
Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I’ll try!”
She placed one she had been perusing on his hand; he flung it off, and
muttered, if she did not give over, he would break her neck.
“Well, I shall put it here,” she said, “in the table-drawer; and I’m
going to bed.”
Then she whispered me to watch whether he touched it, and departed. But
he would not come near it; and so I informed her in the morning, to her
great disappointment. I saw she was sorry for his persevering sulkiness
and indolence: her conscience reproved her for frightening him off
improving himself: she had done it effectually. But her ingenuity was
at work to remedy the injury: while I ironed, or pursued other such
stationary employments as I could not well do in the parlour, she would
bring some pleasant volume and read it aloud to me. When Hareton was
there, she generally paused in an interesting part, and left the book
lying about: that she did repeatedly; but he was as obstinate as a
mule, and, instead of snatching at her bait, in wet weather he took to
smoking with Joseph; and they sat like automatons, one on each side of
the fire, the elder happily too deaf to understand her wicked nonsense,
as he would have called it, the younger doing his best to seem to
disregard it. On fine evenings the latter followed his shooting
expeditions, and Catherine yawned and sighed, and teased me to talk to
her, and ran off into the court or garden the moment I began; and, as a
last resource, cried, and said she was tired of living: her life was
useless.
Mr. Heathcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had
almost banished Earnshaw from his apartment. Owing to an accident at
the commencement of March, he became for some days a fixture in the
kitchen. His gun burst while out on the hills by himself; a splinter
cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach
home. The consequence was that, perforce, he was condemned to the
fireside and tranquillity, till he made it up again. It suited
Catherine to have him there: at any rate, it made her hate her room
upstairs more than ever: and she would compel me to find out business
below, that she might accompany me.
On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimmerton fair with some cattle; and,
in the afternoon, I was busy getting up linen in the kitchen. Earnshaw
sat, morose as usual, at the chimney corner, and my little mistress was
beguiling an idle hour with drawing pictures on the window-panes,
varying her amusement by smothered bursts of songs, and whispered
ejaculations, and quick glances of annoyance and impatience in the
direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and looked into the
grate. At a notice that I could do with her no longer intercepting my
light, she removed to the hearthstone. I bestowed little attention on
her proceedings, but, presently, I heard her begin—“I’ve found out,
Hareton, that I want—that I’m glad—that I should like you to be my
cousin now, if you had not grown so cross to me, and so rough.”
Hareton returned no answer.
“Hareton, Hareton, Hareton! do you hear?” she continued.
“Get off wi’ ye!” he growled, with uncompromising gruffness.
“Let me take that pipe,” she said, cautiously advancing her hand and
abstracting it from his mouth.
Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken, and behind the
fire. He swore at her and seized another.
“Stop,” she cried, “you must listen to me first; and I can’t speak
while those clouds are floating in my face.”
“Will you go to the devil!” he exclaimed, ferociously, “and let me be!”
“No,” she persisted, “I won’t: I can’t tell what to do to make you talk
to me; and you are determined not to understand. When I call you
stupid, I don’t mean anything: I don’t mean that I despise you. Come,
you shall take notice of me, Hareton: you are my cousin, and you shall
own me.”
“I shall have naught to do wi’ you and your mucky pride, and your
damned mocking tricks!” he answered. “I’ll go to hell, body and soul,
before I look sideways after you again. Side out o’ t’ gate, now, this
minute!”
Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip,
and endeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing
tendency to sob.
“You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton,” I interrupted,
“since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal of
good: it would make you another man to have her for a companion.”
“A companion!” he cried; “when she hates me, and does not think me fit
to wipe her shoon! Nay, if it made me a king, I’d not be scorned for
seeking her good-will any more.”
“It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!” wept Cathy, no
longer disguising her trouble. “You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff