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.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, such a grand bairn!\u201d she panted out. \u201cThe finest lad that ever breathed! But the doctor says missis must go: he says she\u2019s been in a consumption these many months. I heard him tell Mr. Hindley: and now she has nothing to keep her, and she\u2019ll be dead before winter. You must come home directly. You\u2019re 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!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut is she very ill?\u201d I asked, flinging down my rake and tying my bonnet.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess she is; yet she looks bravely,\u201d replied the girl, \u201cand she talks as if she thought of living to see it grow a man. She\u2019s out of her head for joy, it\u2019s such a beauty! If I were her I\u2019m 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\u2014\u2018Earnshaw, it\u2019s a blessing your wife has been spared to leave you this son. When she came, I felt convinced we shouldn\u2019t keep her long; and now, I must tell you, the winter will probably finish her. Don\u2019t take on, and fret about it too much: it can\u2019t be helped. And besides, you should have known better than to choose such a rush of a lass!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what did the master answer?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think he swore: but I didn\u2019t mind him, I was straining to see the bairn,\u201d 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\u2019s sake. He had room in his heart only for two idols\u2014his wife and himself: he doted on both, and adored one, and I couldn\u2019t conceive how he would bear the loss.<\/p>\n
When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door; and, as I passed in, I asked, \u201chow was the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNearly ready to run about, Nell!\u201d he replied, putting on a cheerful smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the mistress?\u201d I ventured to inquire; \u201cthe doctor says she\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn the doctor!\u201d he interrupted, reddening. \u201cFrances is quite right: she\u2019ll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? will you tell her that I\u2019ll come, if she\u2019ll promise not to talk. I left her because she would not hold her tongue; and she must\u2014tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n
I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw; she seemed in flighty spirits, and replied merrily, \u201cI hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there he has gone out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I won\u2019t speak: but that does not bind me not to laugh at him!\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2019t put him to further expense by attending her, he retorted, \u201cI know you need not\u2014she\u2019s well\u2014she 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.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2014a very slight one\u2014he raised her in his arms; she put her two hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
The master\u2019s bad ways and bad companions formed a pretty example for Catherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if the lad were<\/i> 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\u2019s 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\u2019s on the other; but hers has been removed, or else you might see something of what she was. Can you make that out?<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cA very agreeable portrait,\u201d I observed to the house-keeper. \u201cIs it like?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d she answered; \u201cbut he looked better when he was animated; that is his everyday countenance: he wanted spirit in general.\u201d<\/p>\n
Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since her five-weeks\u2019 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\u2014for she was full of ambition\u2014and led her to adopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive any one. In the place where she heard Heathcliff termed a \u201cvulgar young ruffian,\u201d and \u201cworse than a brute,\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
Mr. Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had a terror of Earnshaw\u2019s 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\u2019ve 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.<\/p>\n
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\u2019s sense of superiority, instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away. He struggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, and yielded with poignant though silent regret: but he yielded completely; and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in the way of moving upward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath his former level. Then personal appearance sympathised with mental deterioration: he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintances.<\/p>\n
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\u2019s absence, and was then preparing to receive him.<\/p>\n
\u201cCathy, are you busy this afternoon?\u201d asked Heathcliff. \u201cAre you going anywhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, it is raining,\u201d she answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy have you that silk frock on, then?\u201d he said. \u201cNobody coming here, I hope?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot that I know of,\u201d stammered Miss: \u201cbut you should be in the field now, Heathcliff. It is an hour past dinnertime: I thought you were gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,\u201d observed the boy. \u201cI\u2019ll not work any more to-day: I\u2019ll stay with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, but Joseph will tell,\u201d she suggested; \u201cyou\u2019d better go!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it will take him till dark, and he\u2019ll never know.\u201d<\/p>\n
So saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down. Catherine reflected an instant, with knitted brows\u2014she found it needful to smooth the way for an intrusion. \u201cIsabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling this afternoon,\u201d she said, at the conclusion of a minute\u2019s silence. \u201cAs it rains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they do, you run the risk of being scolded for no good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOrder Ellen to say you are engaged, Cathy,\u201d he persisted; \u201cdon\u2019t turn me out for those pitiful, silly friends of yours! I\u2019m on the point, sometimes, of complaining that they\u2014but I\u2019ll not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat they what?\u201d cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubled countenance. \u201cOh, Nelly!\u201d she added petulantly, jerking her head away from my hands, \u201cyou\u2019ve combed my hair quite out of curl! That\u2019s enough; let me alone. What are you on the point of complaining about, Heathcliff?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing\u2014only look at the almanack on that wall;\u201d he pointed to a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, \u201cThe crosses are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I\u2019ve marked every day.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes\u2014very foolish: as if I took notice!\u201d replied Catherine, in a peevish tone. \u201cAnd where is the sense of that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo show that I do<\/i> take notice,\u201d said Heathcliff.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd should I always be sitting with you?\u201d she demanded, growing more irritated. \u201cWhat 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!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy!\u201d exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n
Her companion rose up, but he hadn\u2019t time to express his feelings further, for a horse\u2019s feet were heard on the flags, and having knocked gently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at the unexpected summons he had received. Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coal country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting were as opposite as his aspect. He had a sweet, low manner of speaking, and pronounced his words as you do: that\u2019s less gruff than we talk here, and softer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not come too soon, am I?\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d answered Catherine. \u201cWhat are you doing there, Nelly?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy work, Miss,\u201d I replied. (Mr. Hindley had given me directions to make a third party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.)<\/p>\n
She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, \u201cTake yourself and your dusters off; when company are in the house, servants don\u2019t commence scouring and cleaning in the room where they are!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a good opportunity, now that master is away,\u201d I answered aloud: \u201che hates me to be fidgeting over these things in his presence. I\u2019m sure Mr. Edgar will excuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate you to be fidgeting in my<\/i> presence,\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry for it, Miss Catherine,\u201d was my response; and I proceeded assiduously with my occupation.<\/p>\n
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\u2019ve 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, \u201cOh, Miss, that\u2019s a nasty trick! You have no right to nip me, and I\u2019m not going to bear it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t touch you, you lying creature!\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that, then?\u201d I retorted, showing a decided purple witness to refute her.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cCatherine, love! Catherine!\u201d interposed Linton, greatly shocked at the double fault of falsehood and violence which his idol had committed.<\/p>\n
\u201cLeave the room, Ellen!\u201d she repeated, trembling all over.<\/p>\n
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 \u201cwicked aunt Cathy,\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right!\u201d I said to myself. \u201cTake warning and begone! It\u2019s a kindness to let you have a glimpse of her genuine disposition.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.<\/p>\n
He swerved aside, and attempted to pass.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou must not go!\u201d she exclaimed, energetically.<\/p>\n
\u201cI must and shall!\u201d he replied in a subdued voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she persisted, grasping the handle; \u201cnot yet, Edgar Linton: sit down; you shall not leave me in that temper. I should be miserable all night, and I won\u2019t be miserable for you!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I stay after you have struck me?\u201d asked Linton.<\/p>\n
Catherine was mute.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve made me afraid and ashamed of you,\u201d he continued; \u201cI\u2019ll not come here again!\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you told a deliberate untruth!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t!\u201d she cried, recovering her speech; \u201cI did nothing deliberately. Well, go, if you please\u2014get away! And now I\u2019ll cry\u2014I\u2019ll cry myself sick!\u201d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss is dreadfully wayward, sir,\u201d I called out. \u201cAs bad as any marred child: you\u2019d better be riding home, or else she will be sick, only to grieve us.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2019s 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\u2014had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, and enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confess themselves lovers.<\/p>\n
Intelligence of Mr. Hindley\u2019s 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\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":8,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-31","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":159,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/revisions\/159"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=31"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=31"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=31"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=31"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}