* * * * *<\/p>\r\nDEAR<\/small> ELLEN<\/small>, it begins,\u2014I 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.\r\n\r\nInform Edgar that I\u2019d give the world to see his face again\u2014that 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! I can\u2019t follow it though<\/i>\u2014(these words are underlined)\u2014they 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.\r\n\r\nThe remainder of the letter is for yourself alone. I want to ask you two questions: the first is,\u2014How 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.\r\n\r\nThe second question I have great interest in; it is this\u2014Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? I sha\u2019n\u2019t 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\u2019t write, but come, and bring me something from Edgar.\r\n\r\nNow, 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!\r\n\r\nThe sun set behind the Grange as we turned on to the moors; by that, I judged it to be six o\u2019clock; 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.\r\n\r\nHeathcliff stayed to speak to him, and I entered the kitchen\u2014a 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is Edgar\u2019s legal nephew,\u201d I reflected\u2014\u201cmine in a manner; I must shake hands, and\u2014yes\u2014I must kiss him. It is right to establish a good understanding at the beginning.\u201d\r\n\r\nI approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said\u2014\u201cHow do you do, my dear?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.\r\n\r\n\u201cShall you and I be friends, Hareton?\u201d was my next essay at conversation.\r\n\r\nAn oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not \u201cframe off\u201d rewarded my perseverance.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey, Throttler, lad!\u201d whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred bull-dog from its lair in a corner. \u201cNow, wilt thou be ganging?\u201d he asked authoritatively.\r\n\r\nLove 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\u2014\u201cMim! mim! mim! Did iver Christian body hear aught like it? Mincing un\u2019 munching! How can I tell whet ye say?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI say, I wish you to come with me into the house!\u201d I cried, thinking him deaf, yet highly disgusted at his rudeness.\r\n\r\n\u201cNone o\u2019 me! I getten summut else to do,\u201d 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\u2019m sure, as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.\r\n\r\nI 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 his<\/i> eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine\u2019s with all their beauty annihilated.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat\u2019s your business here?\u201d he demanded, grimly. \u201cWho are you?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMy name was Isabella Linton,\u201d I replied. \u201cYou\u2019ve seen me before, sir. I\u2019m lately married to Mr. Heathcliff, and he has brought me here\u2014I suppose, by your permission.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIs he come back, then?\u201d asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry wolf.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes\u2014we came just now,\u201d I said; \u201cbut 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.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIt\u2019s well the hellish villain has kept his word!\u201d 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 \u201cfiend\u201d deceived him.\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ll 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\u2014where must I turn for comfort? and\u2014mind you don\u2019t tell Edgar, or Catherine\u2014above 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.\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019s 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\u2014\u201cI\u2019m tired with my journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maid-servant? Direct me to her, as she won\u2019t come to me!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWe have none,\u201d he answered; \u201cyou must wait on yourself!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere must I sleep, then?\u201d I sobbed; I was beyond regarding self-respect, weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness.\r\n\r\n\u201cJoseph will show you Heathcliff\u2019s chamber,\u201d said he; \u201copen that door\u2014he\u2019s in there.\u201d\r\n\r\nI was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the strangest tone\u2014\u201cBe so good as to turn your lock, and draw your bolt\u2014don\u2019t omit it!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell!\u201d I said. \u201cBut why, Mr. Earnshaw?\u201d I did not relish the notion of deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.\r\n\r\n\u201cLook here!\u201d he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a curiously-constructed pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached to the barrel. \u201cThat\u2019s 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\u2019s 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!\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cI don\u2019t care if you tell him,\u201d said he. \u201cPut him on his guard, and watch for him. You know the terms we are on, I see: his danger does not shock you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat has Heathcliff done to you?\u201d I asked. \u201cIn what has he wronged you, to warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn\u2019t it be wiser to bid him quit the house?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo!\u201d thundered Earnshaw; \u201cshould he offer to leave me, he\u2019s a dead man: persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess! Am I to lose all<\/i>, without a chance of retrieval? Is Hareton to be a beggar? Oh, damnation! I will<\/i> have it back; and I\u2019ll have his<\/i> 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!\u201d\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ve acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master\u2019s 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\u2019s 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, \u201cI\u2019ll<\/i> make the porridge!\u201d I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding-habit. \u201cMr. Earnshaw,\u201d I continued, \u201cdirects me to wait on myself: I will. I\u2019m not going to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cGooid Lord!\u201d he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed stockings from the knee to the ankle. \u201cIf there\u2019s to be fresh ortherings\u2014just when I getten used to two maisters, if I mun hev\u2019 a mistress<\/i> set o\u2019er my heead, it\u2019s like time to be flitting. I niver did<\/i> think to see t\u2019 day that I mud lave th\u2019 owld place\u2014but I doubt it\u2019s nigh at hand!\u201d\r\n\r\nThis 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cThear!\u201d he ejaculated. \u201cHareton, thou willn\u2019t sup thy porridge to-neeght; they\u2019ll be naught but lumps as big as my neive. Thear, agean! I\u2019d fling in bowl un\u2019 all, if I wer ye! There, pale t\u2019 guilp off, un\u2019 then ye\u2019ll hae done wi\u2019t. Bang, bang. It\u2019s a mercy t\u2019 bothom isn\u2019t deaved out!\u201d\r\n\r\nIt was<\/i> 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 \u201cthe barn was every bit as good\u201d as I, \u201cand every bit as wollsome,\u201d 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cI shall have my supper in another room,\u201d I said. \u201cHave you no place you call a parlour?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cParlour<\/i>!\u201d he echoed, sneeringly, \u201cparlour<\/i>! Nay, we\u2019ve noa parlours<\/i>. If yah dunnut loike wer company, there\u2019s maister\u2019s; un\u2019 if yah dunnut loike maister, there\u2019s us.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThen I shall go upstairs,\u201d I answered; \u201cshow me a chamber.\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cHere\u2019s a rahm,\u201d he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on hinges. \u201cIt\u2019s weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in. There\u2019s a pack o\u2019 corn i\u2019 t\u2019 corner, thear, meeterly clane; if ye\u2019re feared o\u2019 muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o\u2019 t\u2019 top on\u2019t.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe \u201crahm\u201d 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy, man,\u201d I exclaimed, facing him angrily, \u201cthis is not a place to sleep in. I wish to see my bed-room.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBed-rume<\/i>!\u201d he repeated, in a tone of mockery. \u201cYah\u2019s see all t\u2019 bed-rumes<\/i> thear is\u2014yon\u2019s mine.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat do I want with yours?\u201d I retorted. \u201cI suppose Mr. Heathcliff does not lodge at the top of the house, does he?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! it\u2019s Maister Hathecliff\u2019s<\/i> ye\u2019re wanting?\u201d cried he, as if making a new discovery. \u201cCouldn\u2019t ye ha\u2019 said soa, at onst? un\u2019 then, I mud ha\u2019 telled ye, baht all this wark, that that\u2019s just one ye cannut see\u2014he allas keeps it locked, un\u2019 nob\u2019dy iver mells on\u2019t but hisseln.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou\u2019ve a nice house, Joseph,\u201d I could not refrain from observing, \u201cand 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\u2014there are other rooms. For heaven\u2019s sake be quick, and let me settle somewhere!\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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\u2014a 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,\u2014\u201cThis here is t\u2019 maister\u2019s.\u201d 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhear the divil?\u201d began the religious elder. \u201cThe Lord bless us! The Lord forgie us! Whear the hell<\/i> wold ye gang? ye marred, wearisome nowt! Ye\u2019ve seen all but Hareton\u2019s bit of a cham\u2019er. There\u2019s not another hoile to lig down in i\u2019 th\u2019 hahse!\u201d\r\n\r\nI was so vexed, I flung my tray and its contents on the ground; and then seated myself at the stairs\u2019-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.\r\n\r\n\u201cEch! ech!\u201d exclaimed Joseph. \u201cWeel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss Cathy! Howsiver, t\u2019 maister sall just tum\u2019le o\u2019er them brooken pots; un\u2019 then we\u2019s hear summut; we\u2019s hear how it\u2019s to be. Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro\u2019 this to Chrustmas, flinging t\u2019 precious gifts o\u2019God under fooit i\u2019 yer flaysome rages! But I\u2019m mista\u2019en if ye shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i\u2019 that plisky. I nobbut wish he may.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd 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\u2019s tread in the passage; my assistant tucked in his tail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into the nearest doorway. The dog\u2019s endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful; as I guessed by a scutter downstairs, 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\u2019s room, and the old man, on seeing me, said,\u2014\u201cThey\u2019s rahm for boath ye un\u2019 yer pride, now, I sud think i\u2019 the hahse. It\u2019s empty; ye may hev\u2019 it all to yerseln, un\u2019 Him as allus maks a third, i\u2019 sich ill company!\u201d\r\n\r\nGladly 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\u2014that he had the key of our room in his pocket. The adjective our<\/i> gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be, mine; and he\u2019d\u2014but I\u2019ll 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\u2019s illness, and accused my brother of causing it promising that I should be Edgar\u2019s proxy in suffering, till he could get hold of him.\r\n\r\nI do hate him\u2014I am wretched\u2014I have been a fool! Beware of uttering one breath of this to any one at the Grange. I shall expect you every day\u2014don\u2019t disappoint me!\u2014ISABELLA<\/small>.","rendered":"
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\u2014in fact, that his health and strength were being sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin of humanity\u2014he knew no limits in gratitude and joy when Catherine\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese are the earliest flowers at the Heights,\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cThey 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?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe snow is quite gone down here, darling,\u201d replied her husband; \u201cand 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.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI shall never be there but once more,\u201d said the invalid; \u201cand then you\u2019ll leave me, and I shall remain for ever. Next spring you\u2019ll long again to have me under this roof, and you\u2019ll look back and think you were happy to-day.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2019 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\u2014on the same floor with the parlour; and she was soon strong enough to move from one to the other, leaning on Edgar\u2019s 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\u2019s heart would be gladdened, and his lands secured from a stranger\u2019s grip, by the birth of an heir.<\/p>\n
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\u2019ll read it: for I keep it yet. Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.<\/p>\n
* * * * *<\/p>\n
DEAR<\/small> ELLEN<\/small>, it begins,\u2014I 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.<\/p>\n
Inform Edgar that I\u2019d give the world to see his face again\u2014that 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! I can\u2019t follow it though<\/i>\u2014(these words are underlined)\u2014they 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.<\/p>\n
The remainder of the letter is for yourself alone. I want to ask you two questions: the first is,\u2014How 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.<\/p>\n
The second question I have great interest in; it is this\u2014Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? I sha\u2019n\u2019t 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\u2019t write, but come, and bring me something from Edgar.<\/p>\n
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!<\/p>\n
The sun set behind the Grange as we turned on to the moors; by that, I judged it to be six o\u2019clock; 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.<\/p>\n
Heathcliff stayed to speak to him, and I entered the kitchen\u2014a 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Edgar\u2019s legal nephew,\u201d I reflected\u2014\u201cmine in a manner; I must shake hands, and\u2014yes\u2014I must kiss him. It is right to establish a good understanding at the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n
I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said\u2014\u201cHow do you do, my dear?\u201d<\/p>\n
He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.<\/p>\n
\u201cShall you and I be friends, Hareton?\u201d was my next essay at conversation.<\/p>\n
An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not \u201cframe off\u201d rewarded my perseverance.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Throttler, lad!\u201d whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred bull-dog from its lair in a corner. \u201cNow, wilt thou be ganging?\u201d he asked authoritatively.<\/p>\n
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\u2014\u201cMim! mim! mim! Did iver Christian body hear aught like it? Mincing un\u2019 munching! How can I tell whet ye say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI say, I wish you to come with me into the house!\u201d I cried, thinking him deaf, yet highly disgusted at his rudeness.<\/p>\n
\u201cNone o\u2019 me! I getten summut else to do,\u201d 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\u2019m sure, as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.<\/p>\n
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 his<\/i> eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine\u2019s with all their beauty annihilated.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s your business here?\u201d he demanded, grimly. \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name was Isabella Linton,\u201d I replied. \u201cYou\u2019ve seen me before, sir. I\u2019m lately married to Mr. Heathcliff, and he has brought me here\u2014I suppose, by your permission.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he come back, then?\u201d asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry wolf.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes\u2014we came just now,\u201d I said; \u201cbut 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.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s well the hellish villain has kept his word!\u201d 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 \u201cfiend\u201d deceived him.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
You\u2019ll 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\u2014where must I turn for comfort? and\u2014mind you don\u2019t tell Edgar, or Catherine\u2014above 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.<\/p>\n
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\u2019s 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\u2014\u201cI\u2019m tired with my journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maid-servant? Direct me to her, as she won\u2019t come to me!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have none,\u201d he answered; \u201cyou must wait on yourself!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere must I sleep, then?\u201d I sobbed; I was beyond regarding self-respect, weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph will show you Heathcliff\u2019s chamber,\u201d said he; \u201copen that door\u2014he\u2019s in there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the strangest tone\u2014\u201cBe so good as to turn your lock, and draw your bolt\u2014don\u2019t omit it!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell!\u201d I said. \u201cBut why, Mr. Earnshaw?\u201d I did not relish the notion of deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook here!\u201d he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a curiously-constructed pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached to the barrel. \u201cThat\u2019s 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\u2019s 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!\u201d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care if you tell him,\u201d said he. \u201cPut him on his guard, and watch for him. You know the terms we are on, I see: his danger does not shock you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat has Heathcliff done to you?\u201d I asked. \u201cIn what has he wronged you, to warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn\u2019t it be wiser to bid him quit the house?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d thundered Earnshaw; \u201cshould he offer to leave me, he\u2019s a dead man: persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess! Am I to lose all<\/i>, without a chance of retrieval? Is Hareton to be a beggar? Oh, damnation! I will<\/i> have it back; and I\u2019ll have his<\/i> 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!\u201d<\/p>\n
You\u2019ve acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master\u2019s 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\u2019s 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, \u201cI\u2019ll<\/i> make the porridge!\u201d I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding-habit. \u201cMr. Earnshaw,\u201d I continued, \u201cdirects me to wait on myself: I will. I\u2019m not going to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGooid Lord!\u201d he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed stockings from the knee to the ankle. \u201cIf there\u2019s to be fresh ortherings\u2014just when I getten used to two maisters, if I mun hev\u2019 a mistress<\/i> set o\u2019er my heead, it\u2019s like time to be flitting. I niver did<\/i> think to see t\u2019 day that I mud lave th\u2019 owld place\u2014but I doubt it\u2019s nigh at hand!\u201d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cThear!\u201d he ejaculated. \u201cHareton, thou willn\u2019t sup thy porridge to-neeght; they\u2019ll be naught but lumps as big as my neive. Thear, agean! I\u2019d fling in bowl un\u2019 all, if I wer ye! There, pale t\u2019 guilp off, un\u2019 then ye\u2019ll hae done wi\u2019t. Bang, bang. It\u2019s a mercy t\u2019 bothom isn\u2019t deaved out!\u201d<\/p>\n
It was<\/i> 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 \u201cthe barn was every bit as good\u201d as I, \u201cand every bit as wollsome,\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cI shall have my supper in another room,\u201d I said. \u201cHave you no place you call a parlour?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cParlour<\/i>!\u201d he echoed, sneeringly, \u201cparlour<\/i>! Nay, we\u2019ve noa parlours<\/i>. If yah dunnut loike wer company, there\u2019s maister\u2019s; un\u2019 if yah dunnut loike maister, there\u2019s us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen I shall go upstairs,\u201d I answered; \u201cshow me a chamber.\u201d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere\u2019s a rahm,\u201d he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on hinges. \u201cIt\u2019s weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in. There\u2019s a pack o\u2019 corn i\u2019 t\u2019 corner, thear, meeterly clane; if ye\u2019re feared o\u2019 muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o\u2019 t\u2019 top on\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
The \u201crahm\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy, man,\u201d I exclaimed, facing him angrily, \u201cthis is not a place to sleep in. I wish to see my bed-room.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBed-rume<\/i>!\u201d he repeated, in a tone of mockery. \u201cYah\u2019s see all t\u2019 bed-rumes<\/i> thear is\u2014yon\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I want with yours?\u201d I retorted. \u201cI suppose Mr. Heathcliff does not lodge at the top of the house, does he?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh! it\u2019s Maister Hathecliff\u2019s<\/i> ye\u2019re wanting?\u201d cried he, as if making a new discovery. \u201cCouldn\u2019t ye ha\u2019 said soa, at onst? un\u2019 then, I mud ha\u2019 telled ye, baht all this wark, that that\u2019s just one ye cannut see\u2014he allas keeps it locked, un\u2019 nob\u2019dy iver mells on\u2019t but hisseln.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve a nice house, Joseph,\u201d I could not refrain from observing, \u201cand 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\u2014there are other rooms. For heaven\u2019s sake be quick, and let me settle somewhere!\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2014a 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,\u2014\u201cThis here is t\u2019 maister\u2019s.\u201d 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.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhear the divil?\u201d began the religious elder. \u201cThe Lord bless us! The Lord forgie us! Whear the hell<\/i> wold ye gang? ye marred, wearisome nowt! Ye\u2019ve seen all but Hareton\u2019s bit of a cham\u2019er. There\u2019s not another hoile to lig down in i\u2019 th\u2019 hahse!\u201d<\/p>\n
I was so vexed, I flung my tray and its contents on the ground; and then seated myself at the stairs\u2019-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cEch! ech!\u201d exclaimed Joseph. \u201cWeel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss Cathy! Howsiver, t\u2019 maister sall just tum\u2019le o\u2019er them brooken pots; un\u2019 then we\u2019s hear summut; we\u2019s hear how it\u2019s to be. Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro\u2019 this to Chrustmas, flinging t\u2019 precious gifts o\u2019God under fooit i\u2019 yer flaysome rages! But I\u2019m mista\u2019en if ye shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i\u2019 that plisky. I nobbut wish he may.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2019s tread in the passage; my assistant tucked in his tail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into the nearest doorway. The dog\u2019s endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful; as I guessed by a scutter downstairs, 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\u2019s room, and the old man, on seeing me, said,\u2014\u201cThey\u2019s rahm for boath ye un\u2019 yer pride, now, I sud think i\u2019 the hahse. It\u2019s empty; ye may hev\u2019 it all to yerseln, un\u2019 Him as allus maks a third, i\u2019 sich ill company!\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2014that he had the key of our room in his pocket. The adjective our<\/i> gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be, mine; and he\u2019d\u2014but I\u2019ll 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\u2019s illness, and accused my brother of causing it promising that I should be Edgar\u2019s proxy in suffering, till he could get hold of him.<\/p>\n
I do hate him\u2014I am wretched\u2014I have been a fool! Beware of uttering one breath of this to any one at the Grange. I shall expect you every day\u2014don\u2019t disappoint me!\u2014ISABELLA<\/small>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":13,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-36","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\/36","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\/36\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":163,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/36\/revisions\/163"}],"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\/36\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=36"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=36"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=36"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/wutheringheights\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=36"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}