 27 Seven days glided away—everyone marking its course by the henceforth rapid alteration of Edgar Linton's state. The havoc that Montserred previously wrought was now emulated by the inroads of ours. Catherine, we would feign of deluded yet, but her own spirit refused to delude her. It divined in secret, and brooded on the dreadful probability, gradually ripening into certainty. She had not the heart to mention her ride when Thirsty came round. I mentioned it for her, and obtained permission to order her out of doors, for the library where her father stopped a short time daily, the brief period he could bear to sit up, and his chamber had become her whole world. She grudged each moment that did not find her bending over his pillow, or seated by his side. Her countenance grew one with watching and sorrow, and my master gladly dismissed her to what he flattered himself would be a happy change of scene and society, drawing comfort from the hope that she would not now be left entirely alone after his death. He had a fixed idea, I guessed, by several observations he let fall, that as his nephew resembled him in person, he would resemble him in mind, for Linton's letters bore few or no indications of his defective character, and I, through pardonable weakness, refrained from correcting the error, asking myself what good there would be in disturbing his last moments, with information that he had neither power, nor opportunity to turn to account. We deferred our excursion till the afternoon, a golden afternoon of August, every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed whoever inspired it, though dying, might revive. Catherine's face was just like the landscape, shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession, but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more transient, and her poor little heart reproached itself for even that passing forgetfulness of its cares. We discerned Linton watching at the same spot he had selected before. My young mistress alighted, and told me that as she was resolved to stay a very little while, I had better hold a pony and remain on horseback. But I dissented, I wouldn't risk losing sight of the charge committed to me a minute, so we climbed the slope of Heath together. Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation on this occasion, not the animation of high spirits, though, nor yet of joy. It looked more like fear. It is late, he said, speaking short and with difficulty. It's not your father very ill. I thought you wouldn't come. Why won't you be candid? cried Catherine, swallowing her greeting. Why can't you say at once you don't want me? It is strange, Linton, that for the second time you have brought me here on purpose, apparently to distress us both, and for no reason besides. Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half supplicating, half ashamed, but his cousin's patience was not sufficient to endure this enigmatical behaviour. My father is very ill, she said, and why am I called from his bedside? Why didn't you send to absolve me from my promise when you wished I wouldn't keep it? Come! I desire an explanation. Playing and trifling are completely banished out of my mind, and I can't dance attendance on your affectations now. My affectations, he murmured. What are they? For heaven's sake, Catherine, don't look so angry. Despise me, as much as you please. I am a worthless, cowardly wretch. I can't be scorned enough. But I'm too mean for your anger. Hate my father, and spare me for contempt. Nonsense! cried Catherine in a passion. Foolish, silly boy! And there, he trembles, as if I were really going to touch him. You needn't be speak, contempt, Linton. Anybody will have it spontaneously at your service. Get off. I shall return home. It is folly dragging you from the hearthstone and pretending. What do we pretend? Let go of my frock. If I pitied you for crying and looking so very frightened, you should spurn such pity. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct is. Rise, and don't degrade yourself into an abject reptile. Don't! With streaming face, and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown his nervous frame along the ground. He seemed convulsed with exquisite terror. Oh! he sobbed, I cannot bear it. Catherine, Catherine, I'm a traitor, too, and I dare not tell you. But leave me, and I shall be killed. Dear Catherine, my life is in your hands, and you have said you loved me, and if you did it wouldn't harm you. You'll not go, then. Kind, sweet, good Catherine. And perhaps you will consent, and he'll let me die with you. My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him. The old feelings of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she grew thoroughly moved and alarmed. Consent, to what, she asked? To stay. Tell me the meaning of this strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words and distract me. Be calm and frank, and confess at once all that weighs on your heart. You wouldn't injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn't let any enemy hurt me if you could prevent it. I'll believe you are a coward for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend. But my father threatened me, gasped the boy, clasping his attenuated fingers, and I dread him. I dread him. I dare not tell. Oh, well, said Catherine, with scornful compassion. Keep your secret. I'm no coward. Save yourself. I'm not afraid. Her magnanimity provoked his tears. He wept wildly, kissing her supporting hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was cogitating what the mystery might be, and determined Catherine should never suffer to benefit him, or anyone else by my good will. When hearing a rustle among the ling, I looked up and saw Mr. Heathcliff almost close upon us, descending the heights. He didn't cast a glance towards my companions, though they were sufficiently near for Linton's sobs to be audible, but hailing me in the almost hearty tone he assumed to none besides, and the sincerity of which I couldn't avoid doubting, he said. It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are you at the Grange? Let us hear. The rumour goes, he added in a lower tone, that Edgar Linton is on his deathbed. Perhaps they exaggerate his illness? No. My master is dying, I replied. It is true enough. A sad thing it will be for us all, but a blessing for him. How long will he last, do you think, he asked? I don't know, I said. Because, he continued, looking at the two young people who were fixed under his eye, Linton appeared as if he could not venture to stir or raise his head, and Catherine could not move on his account, because that lad Yonder seems determined to beat me, and I'd thank his uncle to be quick and go before him. Hello. Has the well been playing that game long? I did give him some lessons about snivelling. Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton, generally? Lively? No. He has shown the greatest distress, I answered. To see him, I should say, that instead of rambling with his sweetheart on the hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a doctor. He shall be in a day or two, muttered Heathcliff. But first, get up, Linton. Get up! he shouted. Don't grovel on the ground there. Up this moment! Linton had sunk prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless fear. Caused by his father's glance towards him, I suppose, there was nothing else to produce such humiliation. He made several efforts to obey, but his little strength was annihilated for the time, and he fell back again with a moan. Mr. Heathcliff advanced, and lifted him to lean against a ridge of turf. Now, said he, with curbed ferocity, I'm getting angry, and if you don't command that poultry spirit of yours, damn you, get up directly. I will, Father, he panted, only let me alone, or I shall faint. I've done as you wish, I'm sure. Catherine will tell you that I have been cheerful. I'll keep by me, Catherine, give me your hand. Take mine, said his father. Stand on your feet. There now. She'll lend you her arm. That's right. Look at her. You would imagine I was the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excite such horror. Be so kind as to walk home with him, will you? He should as if I touch him. Linton, dear, whispered Catherine, I can't go to Wuthering Heights. Papa has forbidden me. He'll not harm you. Why are you so afraid? I can never re-enter that house, he answered. I'm not to re-enter it without you. Stop, cried his father. We'll respect Catherine's filial scruples. Nelly, take him in, and I'll follow your advice concerning the doctor without delay. You'll do well, replied I, but I must remain with my mistress. To mind your son is not my business. You are very stiff, said Heathcliff. I know that, but you'll force me to pinch the baby and make it scream before it moves your charity. Come, then, my hero, are you willing to return, escorted by me? He approached once more, and made as if he would seize the fragile being, but shrinking back, Linton clung to his cousin, and implored her to accompany him with a frantic importunity that admitted no denial. However I disapproved, I couldn't hinder her. Indeed, how could she have refused him herself? What was filling him with dread? We had no means of discerning, but there he was, powerless under its gripe, and any addition seemed capable of shocking him into idiocy. We reached the threshold. Catherine walked in, and I stood waiting till she had conducted the invalid to a chair, expecting her out immediately, when Mr. Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed, My house is not stricken with the plague, Nellie, and I have a mind to be hospitable to-day. Sit down, and allow me to shut the door. He shut and locked it also. I started. You shall have tea before you go home, he added. I am by myself. Herten is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zilla and Joseph are off on a journey of pleasure, and though I'm used to being alone, I'd rather have some interesting company if I can get it. Miss Linton, take your seat by him. I give you what I have. The present is hardly worth accepting, but I have nothing else to offer. It is Linton, I mean. How she does stare. It's odd what a savage feeling I have to anything that seems afraid of me. Had I been born where laws are less strict, and tastes less dainty, I should treat myself to a slow vivisection of those two as an evening's amusement. He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, by hell, I hate them. I'm not afraid of you, exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear the latter part of his speech. She stepped close up, her black eyes flashing with passion and resolution. Give me that key. I will have it, she said. I wouldn't eat or drink here if I were starving. Heathcliff had the key in his hand that remained on the table. He looked up, seized with a sort of surprise at her boldness, or possibly reminded by her voice and glance of the person from whom she inherited it. She snatched at the instrument, and half succeeded in getting it out of his loosened fingers. But her action recalled him to the present. He recovered it speedily. Now, Catherine Linton, he said, stand off or I shall knock you down. And that will make Mrs. Dean mad. Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its contents again. We will go, she repeated, exerting her utmost efforts to cause the iron muscles to relax, and finding that her nails made no impression, she applied her teeth pretty sharply. Heathcliff glanced at me a glance that kept me from interfering a moment. Catherine was too intent on his fingers to notice his face. He opened them suddenly, and resigned the object of dispute. But ere she had well secured it, he seized her with the liberated hand, and pulling her on his knee, administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps on both sides of the head, each sufficient to have fulfilled his threat, had she been able to fall. At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. You villain! I began to cry. You villain! A touch on the chest silenced me. I am stout and soon put out of breath, and what with that and the rage I staggered dizzily back, and felt ready to suffocate, or to burst a blood vessel. The scene was over in two minutes. Catherine, released, put her two hands to her temples, and looked just as if she were not sure whether her ears were on or off. She trembled like a reed-poor thing, and lent against the table, perfectly bewildered. I know how to chastise children, you see, said the scoundrel grimly, as he stooped to repossess himself of the key which had dropped to the floor. Go to Linton now, as I told you, and cry at your ease. I shall be your father to-morrow. All the father you'll have in a few days, and you shall have plenty of that. You can bear plenty. You're no weakling. You shall have a daily taste if I catch such a devil of a temper in your eyes again. Catherine ran to me instead of Linton, and knelt down and put her burning cheek on my lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into the corner of the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I dare say, that the correction had alighted on another than him. Mr. Heathcliff, perceiving us all confounded, rose, and expeditiously made the tea himself. The cups and sauces were laid ready. He poured it out and handed me a cup. Wash away your spleen, he said, and help your own naughty pets and mine. It is not poison, though I prepared it. I'm going out to seek your horses. Our first thought on his departure was to force an exit somewhere. We tried the kitchen door, but that was fastened outside. We looked at the windows. They were too narrow for even Kathie's little figure. Master Linton, I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned. You know what your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us, or I'll box your ears as he has done your cousins. Yes, Linton, you must tell, said Catherine. It was for your sake I came, and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse. Give me some tea, I'm thirsty, and then I'll tell you, he answered. Mrs. Dean, go away. I don't like you standing over me. Now, Catherine, you're letting your tears fall into my cup. I won't drink that. Give me another. Catherine pushed another to him, and wiped her face. I felt disgusted at the little wretch's composure, since he was no longer in terror for himself. The anguish he had exhibited on the moor subsided as soon as every entered Wuthering Heights, so I guessed he had been menaced with an awful visitation of Roth if he failed in decoying us there, and that accomplished he had no further immediate fears. Papa wants us to be married. He continued after sipping some of the liquid, and he knows your papa wouldn't let us marry now, and he's afraid of my dying if we wait, so we are to be married in the morning, and you are to stay here all night, and if you do as he wishes, you shall return home next day, and take me with you. Take you with a pitiful changeling, I exclaimed. You, Mary, why, the man is mad, or he thinks us fools every one, and do you imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy, hearty girl, will tie herself to a little perishing monkey like you? Are you cherishing the notion that anybody, let alone Miss Catherine Linton, would have you for a husband? You won't whip him for bringing us in here at all with your dastardly pooling tricks, and don't look so silly now, of a very good mind to shake you severely for your contemptible treachery, and your imbecile conceit. I did give him a slight shaking, but it brought on the cough, and he took to his ordinary resource of moaning and weeping, and Catherine rebuked me. Stay all night. No, she said, looking slowly round. Ellen, I'll burn that door down, but I'll get out. And she would have commenced the execution of her threat directly, but Linton was up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her in his two feeble arms, sobbing. Won't you have me, and save me? Not let me come to the Grange. Oh, darling Catherine, you mustn't go and leave after all. You must obey my father. You must. I must obey my own, she replied, and relieve him from this cruel suspense. The whole night. What would he think? He'll be distressed already. I'll either break or burn away out of the house. Be quiet. You're in no danger, but if you hinder me, Linton, I love Papa better than you. The mortal terror he felt of Mr Heathcliff's anger restored to the boy his coward's eloquence. Catherine was near distraught. Still, she persisted that she must go home, and tried entreaty in her turn, persuading him to subdue his selfish agony. While they were thus occupied, our jailer re-entered. Your beasts have trotted off, he said. And now, Linton, sniveling again, what has she been doing to you? Come, come, have done, and get to bed. In a month or two, my lord, you'll be able to pay her back her present tyrannies with a vigorous hand. You're pining for pure love, are you not? Nothing else in the world. And she shall have you. There, to bed. Zilla won't be here tonight. You must undress yourself. Hush, hold your noise. Once in your own room I'll not come near you, you needn't fear. By chance you've managed tolerably. I'll look to the rest. He spoke these words, holding the door open for his son to pass, and the latter achieved his exit exactly as a spaniel might, which suspected the person who attended on it, of designing a spiteful squeeze. The lock was re-secured. Heathcliff approached the fire, where my mistress and I stood silent. Catherine looked up, and instinctively raised her hand to her cheek. His neighbourhood revived a painful sensation. Anybody else would have been incapable of regarding the childish act with sternness, but he scowled on her and muttered, Oh, you're not afraid of me. Your courage is well disguised. You seem damnably afraid. I am afraid now, she replied, because if I stay, Papa will be miserable. And how can I endure making him miserable, when he—when he— Mr. Heathcliff, let me go home. I promise to marry Linton. Papa would like me to. And I love him. Why should you wish to force me to do what I'll willingly do of myself? Let him dare to force you, I cried. There's loin the land, thank God. There is, though we be in and out of the way place. I'd inform if he were my own son, and it's felony without benefit of clergy. Silence, said the Ruffian, to the devil with your clamour. I don't want you to speak. Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself remarkably in thinking your father will be miserable. I shall not sleep for satisfaction. You could have hit on no sure a way of fixing your residence under my roof for the next 24 hours than informing me that such an event would follow. As to your promise to marry Linton, I'll take care you shall keep it, for you shall not quit this place till it is fulfilled. Send Ellen, then, to let Papa know I'm safe, exclaimed Catherine, weeping bitterly. Or marry me now. Poor Papa! Ellen! He'll think we're lost. What shall we do? Not he. He'll think you are tired of waiting on him, and run off for a little amusement, answered Heathcliff. You cannot deny that you entered my house of your own accord, in contempt of his injunctions to the contrary. And it is quite natural that you should desire amusement at your age, and that you would weary of nursing a sick man, and that man only your father. Catherine, his happiest days were over when your days began. It cursed you, I dare say, for coming into the world. I did, at least, and it would just do if he cursed you as he went out of it. I'd join him. I don't love you. How should I? Weep away. As far as I can see it will be your chief diversion hereafter, unless Linton makes amends for other losses, and your provident parent appears to fancy him, eh? His letters of advice and consolation entertain me vastly. In his last he recommended my jewel to be careful of his, and kind to her when he got her. Careful and kind, that's paternal. But Linton requires his whole stock of care and kindness for himself. Linton can play the little tyrant well. He'll undertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn, and their claws paired. You'll be able to tell his uncle fine tales of his kindness when you get home again, I assure you. You're right there, I said. Explain your son's character. Show his resemblance to yourself, and then I hope Miss Cathy will think twice before she takes the cockatrice. I don't much mind-speaking of his amiable qualities now, he answered, because she must either accept him, or remain a prisoner, and you along with her till your master dies. I can detain you both quite concealed here. If you doubt, encourage her to retract her word, and you'll have an opportunity of judging. I'll not retract my word, said Catherine. I'll marry him within this hour if I may go to Thrushcross Grange afterwards. Mr Heathcliff, you're a cruel man, but you're not a fiend, and you won't, from me and Malice, destroy irrevocably all my happiness. If Papa thought I had left him on purpose, and if he died before I returned, could I bear to live? I've given over crying, but I'm going to kneel here, at your knee, and I'll not get up, and I'll not take my eyes from your face till you look back at me. No, don't turn away. Do look, you'll see nothing to provoke you. I don't hate you. I'm not angry that you struck me. Have you never loved anybody in all your life, uncle? Never. Ah, you must look once. I'm so wretched you can't help being sorry and pitying me. Keep your effed fingers off, and move, or I'll kick you, cried Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. I'd rather be hugged by a snake. How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I detest you. He shrugged his shoulders, shook himself indeed, as if his flesh crept with a version, and thrust back his chair, while I got up and opened my mouth to commence a downright torrent of abuse. But I was rendered dumb in the middle of the first sentence, by a threat that I should be shown into a room by myself, the very next syllable I uttered. It was growing dark. We heard a sound of voices at the garden gate. Our host hurried out instantly. He had his wits about him. We had not. There was a talk of two or three minutes, and he returned alone. I thought it had been your cousin, Herton. I observed to Catherine. I wish he would arrive. Who knows, but he might take our part. It was three servants, sent to seek you from the Grange, said Heathcliff, overhearing me. You should have opened a lattice and called out, but I could swear that chit is glad you didn't. She's glad to be obliged to stay, I'm certain. At learning the chance we had missed, we both gave vent to our grief without control, and he allowed us to wail until nine o'clock. Then he bid us go upstairs through the kitchen, to Zilla's chamber, and I whispered my companion to obey. Perhaps we might contrive to get through the window there, or into a garret and out by its skylight. The window, however, was narrow like those below, and the garret trap was safe from our attempts, for we were fastened in as before. We neither of us lay down. Catherine took her station by the lattice, and watched anxiously for mourning, a deep sigh being the only answer I could obtain to my frequent entreaties that she would try to rest. I seated myself in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment on my many derelictions of duty. From which it struck me, then, all the misfortunes of my employer's sprang. It was not the case in reality, I am aware, but it was in my imagination that dismal night, and I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I. At seven o'clock he came and inquired if Miss Linton had risen. She ran to the door immediately and answered, yes. Here, then, he said, opening it and pulling her out. I rose to follow, but he turned the lock again. I demanded my release. Be patient, he replied. I'll send up your breakfast in a while. I thumped on the panels and rattled a latch angrily, and Catherine asked why I was still shut up. He answered I must try to endure it another hour, and they went away. I endured it two or three hours. At length I heard a footstep, not Heathcliff's. I've brought you something to eat, said a voice, open door. Complying eagerly, I beheld head and laid him with food enough to last me all day. Take it, he added, thrusting the tray into my hand. Stay one minute, I began. Nay, cried he, and retired regardless of any prayers I could pour forth to detain him. And there I remained and closed the whole day, and the whole of the next night, and another, and another. Five nights and four days I remained altogether, seeing nobody but Hatton once every morning, and he was the model of a jailer, surly, and dumb, and deaf to every attempt at moving his sense of justice, or compassion. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of Weathering Heights This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Amanda Winnicunnit High School, Weathering Heights by Emily Bronte, Chapter 28 On the fifth morning, or rather afternoon, a different step approached, lighter and shorter, and this time the person entered the room. It was Zilla, donned in her scarlet shawl, with a black silk bonnet on her head, and a willow basket swung to her arm. Ed, dear, Mrs. Dean, she exclaimed. Well, there is a talk about you at Gimmerton. I never thought but you were sunk in the black horse marsh, and missy with you, till Master told me you'd been found, and he'd lodged you here. What, and you must have got on an island, I'm sure. And how long were you in the hole? Did Master save you, Mrs. Dean? But you're not so thin. You've not been so poorly, have you? Your Master is a true scoundrel, I replied. But he shall answer for it. He needn't have raised that tail. It shall all be laid bare. What do you mean, ass Zilla? It's not his tail. They tell it in the village, about your being lost in the marsh. And I caused to urn shawl when I came in. Hey, these queer things, Mr. Harriton, happened since I went off. It's a sad pity of that likely young lass in Cantonellie Dean. He stared. I thought he had not heard us, so I told him the rumor. The Master listened, and then he just smiled to himself, and said, If they have been in the marsh, they are out now, Zilla. Nellie Dean is lodged at this minute in your room. You can tell her to flit when you go up there. Here is the key. The bogwater got into her head, and she should have run home quite flighty. But I fixed her till she came round to her senses. You can bid her go to the Grange at once if she be able, and carry a message from me, that her young lady will follow in time to attend the Squire's funeral. Mr. Edgar is not dead, I gasped. Oh, Zilla, Zilla. No, no, sit you down, my good mistress, she replied. You're right, sickly yet. He's not dead. Dr. Kenna thinks he may last another day. I met him on the road and asked. Instead of sitting down, I snatched my outdoor things and hastened below, for the way was free. On entering the house, I looked about for someone to give information of Catherine. The place was filled with sunshine, and the door stood wide open, but nobody seemed at hand. As I hesitated whether to go off at once or return and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth. Linton lay on the saddle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar candy, and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes. Where is Ms. Catherine, I demanded sternly, supposing I could frighten him into giving intelligence, by catching him thus alone? He sucked on like an innocent. Is she gone, I said? No, he replied. She's upstairs. She's not to go. We won't let her. Won't let her, little idiot, I exclaimed. Direct me to her room immediately, or I'll make you sing out sharply. Papa would make you sing out if you attempted to get there, he answered. He says I'm not to be soft with Catherine. She's my wife, and it's shameful that she would wish to leave me. He says she hates me and wants me to die, that she may have my money, but she shan't have it, and she shan't go home. She never shall. She may cry and be sick as much as she pleases. He resumed his former occupation, closing his lids, as if he meant to drop asleep. Master Heathcliff, I resumed. Have you forgotten all Catherine's kindness to you last winter, when you affirmed you loved her, and when she brought you books and sung-y songs, and came many a time through wind and snow to see you? She wept to miss one evening because you would be disappointed, and you felt then that she was a hundred times too good to you. And now you believe the lies your father tells, though you know he detests you both. And you join him against her. That's fine gratitude, is it not? The corner of London's mouth fell, and he took the sugar candy from his lips. Did she come to weathering heights because she hated you, I continued? Think for yourself. As to your money, she does not even know that you will have any. And you say she's sick, and yet you leave her alone, up there in a strange house. You who have felt what it is to be so neglected. You could pity your own sufferings, and she pitied them too, but you won't pity hers. I shed tears, Master Heathcliff, you see, an elderly woman and a servant merely, and you, after pretending such affection and having reason to worship her almost, store every tear you have for yourself and lie there quite at ease. Ah, you're a heartless, selfish boy. I can't stay with her, he answered crossly. I'll not stay by myself. She cries so I can't bear it, and she won't give over, though I say I'll call my father. I did call him once, and he threatened to strangle her if she was not quiet. But she began again the instant he left the room, moaning and grieving all night long, though I screamed for vexation that I couldn't sleep. As Mr. Heathcliff out, I inquired, perceiving that the wretched creature had no power to sympathize with his cousin's mental tortures. He's in the court, he replied, talking to Dr. Kenneth, who says Uncle is dying truly at last. I'm glad, for I shall be Master of the Grange after him. Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn't hers, it's mine. Papa says everything she has is mine. All her nice books are mine. She offered to give me them, and her pretty birds, and her pony mini. If I would get the key of our room and let her out. But I told her she had nothing to give. They were all, all mine. And then she cried and took a little picture from our neck, and said I should have that. Two pictures in a gold case. On one side her mother, on the other Uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday. I said they were mine too, and tried to get them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn't let me. She pushed me off and hurt me. I shrieked out that frightens her. She heard Papa coming and she broke the hinges and divided the case and gave me her mother's portrait. The other she attempted to hide. But Papa asked what was the matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to resign hers to me. She refused, and he, he struck her down, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot. And were you pleased to see her struck? I asked, having my designs and encouraging his talk. I winked, he answered. I winked to see my father strike a dog or a horse. He does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first. She deserved punishing for pushing me. But when Papa was gone, she made me come to the window and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, against her teeth, and her mouth filling with blood. And then she gathered up the bits of the picture, and went and sat down with her face against the wall. And she has never spoken to me since. And I sometimes think she can't speak for pain. I don't like to think so, but she's a naughty thing for crying continually, and she looks so pale and wild I'm afraid of her. And you can get the key if you choose, I said? Yes, when I am upstairs, he answered. But I can't walk upstairs now. And what apartment is it? I asked. Oh, he cried. I shan't tell you where it is. It is our secret. Nobody, neither Heritage nor Zilla is to know. There, you've tired me. Go away, go away. And he turned his face onto his arm and shut his eyes again. I consider it best to depart without seeing Mr. Heathcliff, and bring a rescue for my young lady from the Grange. On reaching it, the astonishment of my fellow servants to see me, and their joy also, was intense. And when they heard their little mistress was safe, two or three were about to hurry up and shout the news at Mr. Edgar's door. But I bespoke the announcement of it myself. How changed, I found him, even in those few days. He lay an image of sadness and resignation awaiting his death. Very young he looked. Though his actual age was 39, one would have called him 10 years younger at least. He thought of Catherine, for he marred her name. I touched his hand and spoke. Catherine is coming, dear master, I whispered. She is alive and well, and will be here, I hope, tonight. I trembled at the first effects of this intelligence. He half rose up, looked eagerly around the apartment. And then sank back in a swoon. As soon as he recovered, I related our compulsory visit and detention at the Heights. I said Heathcliff forced me to go in, which was not quite true. I uttered as little as possible against Linton, nor did I describe all his father's brutal conduct. My intentions being to add no bitterness if I could help it, to his already overflowing cup. He divined that one of his enemy's purposes was to secure the personal property, as well as the estate, to his son, or rather himself. Yet why he did not wait till his deceased was a puzzle to my master, because ignorant how nearly he and his nephew would quit the world together. However, he felt that his will had better be altered. Instead of leaving Catherine's fortune at her own disposal, he determined to put it in the hands of trustees for her use during life, and for her children if she had any, after her. By that means it could not fall to Mr. Heathcliff should Linton die. Having received his orders, I dispatched a man to fetch the attorney, and four more provided with serviceable weapons to demand my young lady of her jailer. Both parties were delayed very late. The single servant returned first. He said Mr. Green, the lawyer, was out when he arrived at his house, and he had to wait two hours for his re-entrance. And then Mr. Green told him he had a little business in the village that must be done. But he would be at Thrush Cross Grange before morning. The four men came back unaccompanied also. They brought word that Catherine was ill, too ill to quit her room, and Heathcliff would not suffer them to see her. I scolded the stupid fellows well for listening to that tale, which I would not carry to my master, resolving to take a whole bevy up to the heights at daylight, and storm it literally unless the prisoner were quietly surrendered to us. Her father shall see her, I vowed, and vowed again if that devil be killed on his own doorstones and trying to prevent it. Happily, I was spared the journey and the trouble. I had gone downstairs at three o'clock to fetch a jug of water, and was passing through the hall with it in my hand when a sharp knock at the front door made me jump. Oh, it is green, I said, recollecting myself, only green. And I went on, intending to see somebody else to open it. But the knock was repeated, not loud, and still importunately. I put the jug on the banister and hastened to admit him myself. The harvest moon shone clear outside. It was not the attorney. My own sweet little mistress sprang on my neck sobbing. Ellen, Ellen, is Papa alive? Yes, I cried. Yes, my angel, he is. God be thanked, you are safe with us again. She wanted to run, breathless as she was, upstairs to Mr. London's room. But I compelled her to sit down on a chair and made her drink and washed her pale face, chafing it into a faint color with my apron. Then I said I must go first and tell of her arrival, employing her to say she should be happy with young Heathcliff. She stared, but soon comprehending why I cancelled her to utter the falsehood, she assured me she would not complain. I couldn't abide to be present at their meeting. I stood outside the chamber door a quarter of an hour and hardly ventured near the bed then. All was composed, however. Catherine's despair was as silent as her father's joy. She supported him calmly in appearance, and he fixed on her features his raised eyes that seemed dilating with ecstasy. He died blissfully, Mr. Lockwood. He died so. Kissing her cheek, he murmured, I am going to her, and you, darling child, shall come to us. And never stirred or spoke again. But continued that rapt, radiant gaze to his pulse imperceptibly stopped and his soul departed. None could have noticed the exact minute of his death. It was so entirely without a struggle. Whether Catherine had spent her tears, or whether the grief were too weighty to let them flow, she sat there dry-eyed till the sun rose. She sat till noon and would still have remained brooding over that death bed. But I insisted on her coming away and taking some repose. It was well I exceeded in removing her. For at dinner time appeared the lawyer, having called at weathering heights, to get his instructions how to behave. He had sold himself to Mr. Heathcliff. That was the cause of his delay in obeying my master's summons. Fortunately, no thought of worldly affairs crossed the latter's mind to disturb him after his daughter's arrival. Mr. Green took upon himself to order everything and everybody about the place. He gave all the servants but me notice to quit. He would have carried his delegated authority to the point of insisting that Edgar Linton should not be buried beside his wife, but in the chapel with his family. There was the will, however, to hinder that, and I allowed protestations against any infringement of its directions. The funeral was hurried over. Catherine, Mrs. Linton Heathcliff now, was suffered to stay at the Grange till her father's corpse had quitted it. She told me that her anguish had at last spurred Linton to incur the risk of liberating her. She heard the men I sent disputing at the door, and she gathered the sense of Heathcliff's answer. It drove her desperate. Linton, who had been conveyed up to the little parlour soon after I left, was terrified in defetching the key before his father re-ascended. He had the cunning to unlock and relock the door without shutting it. And when he should have gone to bed, he begged to sleep with Heriton. And his petition was granted for once. Catherine stole out before break of day. She dared not try the doors lest the dog should raise an alarm. She visited the empty chambers and examined their windows. And luckily, lighting on her mother's, she got easily out of its lattice and onto the ground by means of the fir tree close by. Her accomplice suffered for his share in the escape, notwithstanding his timid contrivances. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Of Weathering Heights This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Maria Tafidis Weathering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 29 The evening after the funeral, my young lady and I were seated in the library. Now amusing mournfully, one of us despairingly, on our loss, now venturing conjectures after the gloomy future. We had just agreed the best destiny which could await Catherine would be a permission to continue residence at the Grange, at least during Linton's life. He being allowed to join her there and died to remain as housekeeper. That seemed rather too favorable an arrangement to be hoped for. And yet I did hope and began to tear up under the prospect of retaining my home in my employment and above all my beloved young mistress. When a servant, one of the discarded ones, not yet departed, rushed hastily in and said that devil Heathcliff was coming through the court. Should he fasten the door in his face? If we had been mad enough to order that proceeding, we had no time. He made no ceremony of knocking or announcing his name. He was master and availed himself of the master's privilege to orchestrate him without saying a word. The sound of our informant's voice directed him to the library. He entered and motioning him out. Shut the door. It was the same room into which he had been ushered as a guest 18 years before. The same moon shone through the window and the same autumn landscape lay outside. We had not yet lighted a candle, but all the apartment was visible even to the portraits on the wall. The splendid head of Mrs. Linton and the graceful one of her husband. Heathcliff advanced to the hearth. Time had little altered his person, either. There was the same man. His dark face rather shallower and more composed, his famous tone or two heavier, perhaps, and no other difference. Catherine had risen with an imposter dash out when she saw him. Stop! he said, arresting her by the arm. No more running away. Where would you go? I'm come to fetch you home, and I hope you'll be a beautiful daughter and not encourage my son to further his opinions. I was embarrassed how to punish him when I discovered his part in the business. He's such a cobweb. A pinch would annihilate him. But you'll see by his look that he has received his due. I brought him down one evening, the day before yesterday, and just sent him in a chair and never touched him afterwards. I sent her to an art and we had the room to ourselves. In two hours I called Joseph to carry him up again, and since then my presence is as potent on his nerves as a ghost. But I fancy he sears me often, though I am not near. Let him say as he wakes in trees in the night by the hour together, it calls you to protect him from me. And whether you like your precious mate or not, you must come. It's your concern now. I yield all my interest in him to you. Why not let Catherine continue here, I plead, and send Master Linton to her. As you hate them both, you not miss them. They can only be a daily plague to your natural heart. I'm seeking the tenant for the grain, he answered, and I want my children about me to be sure. Besides, that lass owes me her services for her bread. I'm not going to nurture her in luxury and wilderness after Linton is gone. Make haste and get ready now, and don't oblige me to compare you. My shawl, said Catherine, Linton is all I have to love in the world. And though you have done what you could to make him hateful to me, and me to him, you cannot make us hate each other, and I defy you to hurt him when I am by, and I defy you to frighten me. You are a boastful champion, replied Heathcliff, but I don't like you well enough to hurt him. You shall get the full benefit of atonement, as long as it lasts. It is not I who will make him hateful to you. It is his own sweet spirit. He is as bitter as gold as your desertion and its consequences. Don't expect thanks for this noble devotion. I heard him draw a pleasant picture to Zilla of what he would do if he were strong as I. The inclination is there, and his very weakness will sharpen his wits to find a substitute for strength. I know he has a bad nature, said Catherine. He is your son. But I am glad I have a better to forgive it. And I know he loves me, and for that reason I love him. Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you. And however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him. Nobody loves you. Nobody will cry for you when you die. I wouldn't be you. Catherine spoke with a kind of dreary triumph. She seems to have made up her mind to enter into the spirit of a future family and draw pleasure from the griefs of her enemies. You shall be sorry to be yourself presently, said her father-in-law. If you stand there another minute, be gone, which will get you things. She is cornfully with Jew. In her absence I began to beg for zealous place at the heights, offering to resign mine to her. But he would suffer it on no account. He bid me be silent, and then, for the first time, allowed himself a glance around the room and a look at the pictures. Having studied Mrs. Linton's, he said, I shall have that home. Not because I need it, but he turned abruptly to the fire and continued with what, for lack of a better word, I must call a smile. But I'll tell you what I did yesterday. I got a sexton, who was digging Linton's grave, to remove the earth of a coffin lid, and I opened it. I thought once, I would have stayed there. When I saw her face again, it is hers yet. He had hard work to stir me, but he said it would change the air blue on it, and so I struck one side of the coffin loose and covered it up. Not Linton's side, damn him. I wish he'd been soldered in lane, and I bribed the sexton to pull it away when I'm laid there, and slide mine out too. I'll have it made so, and then, by the time Linton gets to us, he'll not know which is which. You were very wicked, Mr. Hiskriff, I exclaimed. We're not ashamed to disturb the dead. I disturbed nobody, nearly, replied, and I gave some ease to myself. Shall be a great deal more comfortable now, and you'll have a better chance of keeping me on the ground when I get there. Disturbed her? No. She has disturbed me night and day, through eighteen years, incessantly, remorselessly, till yesterday night, and yesterday night I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the last sleep by that sleeper, with my heart stopped as my cheek frozen against hers. And if she had been dissolved into earth, or worse, what would you have dreamt of then? I said. Of dissolving with her, and being more happy still, he answered. Do you suppose I dread any change of that sort? I expected such a transformation on raising the lid, but I'm better pleased that it should not commence till I share it. Besides, unless I had received a distinct impression of her passionless features, the strange feeling would hardly have been removed. It began utterly, you know I was wild after she died, and eternally from dawn to dawn, praying her to return to me her spirit. I have a strong faith in ghost. I have a conviction that I can, and do exist among us. The day she was buried, there came a fall of snow, and evening I went to the churchyard. It blew bleak as winter, all round, was solitary. I didn't fear that her full of her husband would wander up the glades so late, and no one else had business to bring them there. Being alone, and conscious two yards of loose earth, was a sole barrier between us. I said to myself, I'll have her in my arms again. If she be cold, I'll think it is this north wind that chills me, and if she be motionless, it is sleep. I got a spade from the toolhouse, and began to delve with all my might. It scrapped the coffin. I fell to work with my hands. The wood commenced cracking about the screws. I was on the point of attaining my object, when it seemed that I heard a sigh from someone above, close at the edge of the grave, and bending down. If I can only get this off, I muttered, I wish there may shovel in the earth over us both, and I raged at it more, desperately still. There was another sigh, close at my ear. I peered to feel the warm breath of it, displacing the sleet to laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh and blood was by, but I certainly, as you perceive the approach to some substantial body in the dark, though it cannot be discerned, so certainly I felt that Cathy was there. Not under me, but on the earth. A sudden sense of relief flowed from my heart through every limb. I relinquished my labor of agony and turned consoled at once, unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me. It remained while I refilled the grave and led me home. You may laugh, if you will, but I was sure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me, and I could not help talking to her. Having reached the heights, I rushed eagerly to the door. It was fastened, and I remember that a cursed urn show in my wife opposed my entrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and then hurrying upstairs to my room in hers. I looked round impatiently. I fell her by me. I could almost see her, and yet I could not. I ought to have sweat blooded from the anguish of my yearning, from the fervor of my supplications to have but one glimpse. I had not one. She showed herself as she often was in life. A devil to me. And since then, sometimes more, and sometimes less, I have been a sport of that intolerable torture. Infernal. Keeping my nerves at such a stress that if they had not resembled Cankett, they would long ago have relaxed to the feebleness of Linton's. When I sat in the house with Herton, it seemed that, ongoing out, I should meet her. When I walked on the moves, I should meet her coming in. When I went from home, I hastened to return. She must be somewhere at the height. I was certain, and when I slept in her chamber, I was beaten out of that. I couldn't lie there. For the moment I closed my eyes, she was either outside the window, or sliding back the panels, or entering the room, or even resting a darling head on the same pillow as she did when a child. And I must open my leads to see. And so I opened and closed them a hundred times night to be always disappointed. It racked me. I've often grown loud. Till that old rascal Joseph knew doubt believed that my conscience was playing the theme inside of me. Now, since I've seen her, I'm pacified, a little, to the strange way of killing, not by inches, but by fractions of head-breath, to be guile me with a specter of a hope through 18 years. Mr. Hiscliffe posed and wiped his forehead. His hair clung to it, wet with perspiration. His eyes were fixed on the red embers of the fire. The bros not contracted, but raised necks of temples, diminishing the grim aspect of his countenance, but imparting a peculiar look of trouble and the painful appearance of mental tension towards one absorbing subject. He only half addressed me and I maintained silence. I didn't like to hear him talk. After a short period he resumed his meditation on the picture, took it down and lent it against the sofa to contemplate it at a better advantage. And while so occupied Catherine entered, announcing that she was ready when her pony should be saddled. Said that over tomorrow that hiscliffe to me. When turning to her, he added, You may do without your pony. It is a fine evening and you'll need no ponies at weathering heights. For a journey to take, your own feet will serve you. Come along. Goodbye, Ellen, whispered my dear little mistress. As she kissed me, her lips felt like eyes. Come and see me, Ellen. Don't forget. Take care you do no such thing, Mrs. Dean, said her new father. When I wish to speak to you, I'll come here. I want none of you prying at my house. He signed her to precede him, and Catherine back a look that cut my heart. She obeyed. I watched them from the window walk down the garden. Hiscliffe fixed Catherine's arm on his, though she disputed the act at first evidently. And with the rabbit's tries, he hurried her into the alley, whose trees concealed it. End of Chapter 29. Chapter 30 Of Weathering Heights This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Chris Turtle. Weathering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 30 I have paid a visit to the heights, but I have not seen her since she left. Joseph held the door in his hand when I called to ask after her, and wouldn't let me pass. He said Mrs. Linton was thrang, and the master was not in. Zillers told me something of the way they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was dead and who was living. She thinks Catherine oughty, and does not like her. I can guess by her talk. My young lady asked some aid of her when she first came, but Mr. Eathcliffe told her to follow on her own business and let his daughter-in-law look after herself, and Zillers willingly acquiesced, being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherine evinced her child's annoyance at this neglect, repaid it with contempt, and thus enlisted my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had done us some great wrong. I had a long talk with Zilla about six weeks ago, a little before you came, one day when we foregathered on the moor, and this is what she told me. The first thing Mrs. Linton did, she said, on her arrival at the heights, was to run upstairs without even wishing good evening to me and Joseph. She shut herself into Linton's room and remained till morning. Then, while the master and urn-shaw were at breakfast, she entered house, and asked all in a quiver if doctor might be sent for her. Her cousin was very ill. We know that, answered Eathcliff, but his life is not worth a farthing, and I won't spend a farthing on him. But I cannot tell how to do, she said, and if nobody will help me, he'll die. Walk out of the room, cried the master, and let me never hear a word more about him. None here care what becomes of him. If you do, act the nurse, if you do not, lock him up and leave him. Then she began to bother me, and I said it had enough plague with the tiresome thing. We each had her tasks, and those was to wait on Linton. Mr. Eathcliff had bid me leave that labour to her. How they managed together, I can't tell. I fancy he fretted a great deal, and moaned herself night and day, and she had precious little rest, one could guess by her white face and heavy eyes. She sometimes came into kitchen all wildered-like, and looked as if she would feign beg assistance, but I was not going to disobey the master. I never dared disobey her, Mrs. Dean. And though I thought it wrong that Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of mine, I had to show her advice or complain, and I always refused to meddle. Once or twice, after we'd gone to bed, I happened to open my door again, and see her sitting crying on the stares-top, and I've shut myself in quick, for fear of being moved to interfere. I did pittier, then. I'm sure. Still, I didn't wish to lose my place, you know. At last, one night, she came boldly into my chamber, and frightened me out of her wits by saying, Tell Mr. Heathcliff that his son is dying. I'm sure he is this time. Get up instantly and tell him. Having uttered this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter an hour listening and trembling. Nothing stirred. The house was quiet. She's mistaken, I said to myself. He's got over it. I needn't disturb them, and I began to doze. But my sleep was marred a second time by a sharp ringing of the bell, the only bell we have, put up on purpose for Linton. And Master called me to see what was the matter, and informed them that he wouldn't have that noise repeated. I delivered Catherine's message. He cursed to himself, and in a few minutes came out with a lighted candle and proceeded to their room. I followed. Mrs. Heathcliff was seated by bedside, with her hands folded on her knees. A father-in-law went up, out light to Linton's face, looked at him, and touched him. Afterward, he turned to her. Now, Catherine, he said, How do you feel? She was dumb. How do you feel, Catherine? he repeated. He's safe, and I'm free, she answered. I should feel well, but she continued, with a bitterness she couldn't conceal. You have left me so long to struggle against death alone, that I feel and see only death. I feel like death, and she looked like it, too. I gave her a little wine. Ayrton and Joseph would be awakened by the ringing and sound of feet, and heard our talk from outside, now entered. Joseph was faint, I believe, of the lad's removal. Ayrton seemed a thought bothered, though he was more taken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of Linton. But the master bid him get off to bed again. We didn't want his help. He afterwards made Joseph remove body to his chamber, and told me to return to mine, and Mrs. Heathcliff remained by herself. In't morning he sent me to tell her she must come down to breakfast. She had undressed and appeared going to sleep, and said she was ill, at which I hardly wondered. I informed Mr. Heathcliff, and he replied, Well, let her be till after the funeral, and go up now and then to get her what is needful. And as soon as she seems better, tell me. Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, according to Zilla, who visited her twice a day, and would have been rather more friendly, but her attempts at increasing kindness were proudly and promptly repelled. Heathcliff went up once to show her Linton's will. He'd bequeathed the whole of his, and what had been her movable property to his father. The poor creature was threatened or coaxed into that act during a week's absence when his uncle died. The lands, being a miner, he could not meddle with. However, Mr. Heathcliff has claimed and kept them in his wife's right, and is also, I suppose, legally. Anyway, Catherine, destitute of cash and friends, cannot disturb his possession. Nobody, said Zilla, ever approached Adoa, except that one, but I, and nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of her coming down into house was on a Sunday afternoon. She'd cried out, when I'd carried up a dinner, that she couldn't bear any longer being in cold, and I told her the master was going to thrush cross-grainge and earn her an eye neat and indra from descending. So as soon as she heard Heathcliff's arse trot off, she made her appearance, donned in black, and her yellow curls going back beyond her ears as plain as a quaker, she couldn't comb them out. Joseph and I generally go to chapel on Sundays. The Kirk, you know, has no minister now, explained Mrs. Dean, and they call the Methodist or Baptist place, I can't say which it is, at Gimerton, a chapel. Joseph had gone, she continued, but I thought proper to buy it at home. Young folks are always the better for an elder's overlooking, and Ayrton, with all his bashfulness, isn't a model of nice behaviour. I'll let him know that his cousin would very likely sit with us, and she had been always used to see the Sabbath respected. So he had as good leave as guns and bits of indoor work alone, while she stayed. He culled up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands and clothes. The train-oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a minute. I saw he meant to give a company, and I guessed by his way he wanted to be presentable, so laughing as I durst not laugh when the master is by, I offered to help him, if he would, and joked at his confusion. He grows sullen and began to swear. Now, Mrs. Dean, Zilla went on, seeing me not pleased by a manner, you happen to think you're young lady too fine for Mr. Ayrton, and happen you're right, but I hope I should love well to bring a bride a peg lower. And what will all her learning and her daintyness do for a now? She's as poor as you are I, poorer I'll be bound to your saying, and I'm doing my little all that road. Ayrton allowed Zilla to give him a raid, and she flattered him into a good humour. So, when Catherine came, after getting her former insults, he tried to make himself agreeable by the housekeeper's account. Mrs. walked in, she said, it chill as an article, and as I as a princess. I got up and offered him a seat in the armchair. No, she turned up and knows at my civility. Earnshaw rose too, and bit her come to the settle, and sit close by at fire. He was sure she was starved. I've been starved a month and more, she answered, resting on the word as scornful as she could. And she got a chair for herself, and placed it at a distance from both of us. Having sat till she was warm, she began to look round, and discovered a number of books on't dresser. She was instantly upon her feet again, stretching to reach him, with her two eye up. Her cousin, after watching her endeavours a while, at last summoned courage to help her. She yelled a frock, and he filled it with the first that came to hand. That was a great advance for the lad. She didn't thank him. Still, he felt gratified that she had accepted his assistance, and ventured to stand behind as she examined them, and even to stoop and point what struck his fancy in certain old pictures which they contained. Nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked the page from his finger. He contented himself with her going a bit farther back, and looking at her instead of book. She continued reading, or seeking for something to read. His attention became, by her degrees, quite centered on the study of her thick, silky curls. Her face he couldn't see, and she couldn't see him. And perhaps not quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, a lasty procedure from staring to touching. He put out his hand and stroked one curl, as gently as if it were a bird. He might have stuck a knife to her neck. She started round in such a taking. Get away this moment! How dare you touch me! Why are you stopping there? She cried in a tone of disgust. I can't endure you! I'll go upstairs again if you come near me. Mr. Ayrton recoiled, looking as foolish as he could do. He sat down at the saddle very quiet, and she continued turning over a volume's another half-hour. Finally, Earnshaw crossed over and whispered to me. Will you ask her to read to us, Zilla? I'm stalled a dune note, and I do like. I could like to hear her. Don't say I want to do it. Ask yourself. Mr. Ayrton wishes you would read to us, ma'am. I said immediately. It ticked with very kind. He'd be much obliged. She frowned, and looking up answered. Mr. Ayrton, and the whole set of you, will you be good enough to understand that I reject any pretence at kindness you have the hypocrisy to offer? I despise you and will have nothing to say to any of you. When I would have given my life for one kind word, even to see one of your faces, you all kept off. But I won't complain to you. I'm driven down here by the cold, not other to amuse you or enjoy your society. What could I have done? He began Earnshaw. I was eye-to-blame. Oh, you were an exception, answered Mrs. Eathcliff. I never missed such a concern as you. But I offered more than once, and asked, he said, kindling up at a pertness. I asked Mr. Eathcliff to let me wake for you. Be silent! I'll go out of doors or anywhere rather than have your disagreeable voice in my ear, said my lady. Ayrton muttered she might go to El for him, and unslinging his gun restrained himself from his Sunday occupations no longer. He talked now freely enough, and she suddenly saw fit to retreat to her solitude, but the frost had set in, and in spite of a pride she was forced to condescend to our company more and more. However, I took care that there should be no further scorn in my good nature, ever since I've been as stiff as herself, and she has no love or a like or among us, and she does not deserve one, for let them say the least words to her, and she'll go back without respect of anyone. She'll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him to thrash her, and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows. At first, on hearing this account from Zilla, I determined to leave my situation, take a cottage, and get Catherine to come and live with me. But Mr. Eathcliff would assume permit that, as he was set up Ayrton in an independent house, and I can see no remedy at present, unless she should marry again, and that scheme does not come within my province to arrange. Thus ended Mrs. Deen's story. Notwithstanding the doctor's prophecy, I am rapidly recovering strength. And though it be only the second week in January, I propose getting on horseback in a day or two, and riding over to Wuthering Heights, to inform my landlord that I shall spend the next six months in London, and, if he likes, he may look out for another tenant to take the place after October. I would not pass another winter here for much. I went to the Heights as I proposed. My housekeeper entreated me to bear a little note from her to her young lady, and I did not refuse, for the worthy woman was not conscious of anything odd in her request. The front door stood open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at my last visit. I knocked and invoked Earnshaw from among the garden beds. He unchained it, and I entered. The fellow is as handsome a rustic as need be seen. I took particular notice of him this time, but then he does his best, apparently, to make the least of his advantages. I asked if Mr. Heathcliff were at home. He answered, no, but he would be in at dinnertime. It was eleven o'clock, and I announced my intention of going in and waiting for him, at which he immediately flung down his tools and accompanied me in the office of watchdog, not as a substitute for the host. We entered together. Catherine was there, making herself useful in preparing some vegetables for the approaching meal. She looked more sulky and less spirited than when I had seen her first. She hardly raised her eyes to notice me, and continued her employment with the same disregard to common forms of politeness as before, never returning my bow and good morning by the slightest acknowledgement. She does not seem so amiable, I thought, as Mrs. Dean would persuade me to believe. She's a beauty, it is true, but not an angel. Earnshaw surly bid her remove her things to the kitchen. Remove them yourself, she said, pushing them from her as soon as she had done, and retiring to a stool by the window, where she began to carve figures of birds and beasts out of the turnip pairings in her lap. I approached her, pretending to desire a view of the garden, and, as I fancied, adroitly dropped Mrs. Dean's note onto her knee, unnoticed by Herton, but she asked aloud, What is that? and chucked it off. A letter from your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at the Grange, I answered, annoyed at her exposing my kind deed, and fearful lest it should be imagined amissive of my own. She would gladly have gathered it up at this information, but Herton beat her, he seized and put it in his waistcoat, saying Mr. Heathcliff should look at it first. Thereat Catherine silently turned her face from us, and very stealthily drew out her pocket-hankerchief and applied it to her eyes, and her cousin, after struggling a while to keep down his softer feelings, pulled out the letter and flung it on the floor beside her as ungraciously as he could. Catherine caught and perused it eagerly. Then she put a few questions to me concerning the inmates, rational and irrational, of her former home, and gazing towards the hills, murmured in soliloquy, I should like to be riding Mini down there, I should like to be climbing up there, oh, I'm tired, I'm stalled, Herton, and she leaned her pretty head back against the sill, with half a yawn and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness, neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her. Mrs. Heathcliff, I said, after sitting some time mute. You are not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours? So intimate I think it strange you won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper never worries of talking about and praising you, and should be greatly disappointed if I return with no news of or from you, except that you received her letter and said nothing. She had peered to wonder at this speech and asked, Does Ellen like you? Yes, very well, I replied hesitatingly. You must tell her, she continued, that I would answer her letter, but I have no materials for writing, not even a book from which I might tear a leaf. No books, I exclaimed, how do you contrive to live here without them? If I may take the liberty to inquire, though provided with a large library, I'm frequently very dull at the Grange, take my books away, and I should be desperate. I was always reading when I had them, said Catherine, and Mr Heathcliff never reads, so he took it into his head to destroy my books. I've not had a glimpse of one for weeks. Only once I searched through Joseph's store of theology to his great irritation, and once had, and I came upon a secret stock in your room, some Latin and Greek and some tales and poetry. All old friends, I brought the last here, and you gathered them as a magpie gathers silver spoons for the mere love of stealing. They are of no use to you, or else you can seal them in the bad spirit that, as you cannot enjoy them, nobody else shall. Perhaps your envy counseled Mr Heathcliff to rob me of my treasures? But I've most of them written on my brain and printed in my heart, and you cannot deprive me of those. Earnshaw blushed crimson when his cousin made this revelation of his private literary accumulations, and stammered in a dignit denial for accusations. Mr Herton, his desirous of increasing his amount of knowledge, I said, coming to his rescue. He is not envious, but emulous of your attainments. He'll be a clever scholar in a few years. And he wants me to sink into a dunce meantime, answered Catherine. Yes, I hear him try to spell and read to himself, and pretty blunt as he makes. I wish you would repeat Chevy Chase as you did yesterday. It was extremely funny. I heard you, and I heard you turning over the dictionary to seek out the hard words, and then cursing, because you couldn't read their explanations. The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for his ignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove it. I had a similar notion, and remembering Mrs Dean's anecdote of his first attempt at enlightening the darkness in which he had been reared, I observed, but Mrs Heathcliff, we have each had a commencement, and each stumbled and totted on the threshold, had our teacher scorned instead of aiding us, which had stumbled and totted yet. Oh, she replied, I don't wish to limit his acquirements. Still, he has no right to appropriate what is mine, and make it ridiculous to me with his vile mistakes and mispronunciations. Those books, both prose and verse, are consecrated to me by other associations, and I hate to have them debased and profaned in his mouth. Besides, of all he has selected my favourite pieces that I love the most to repeat as if out of deliberate malice. Herten's chest heaved in silence a minute. He laboured under a severe sense of mortification and wrath, which was no easy task to suppress. I rose, and from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his embarrassment, took up my station in the doorway, surveying the external prospect as I stood. He followed my example and left the room, but presently reappeared, bearing half a dozen volume in his hands which he threw into Catherine's lap, exclaiming, Take him, I never want to hear or read or think of him again. I won't have them now, she answered. I shall connect them with you and hate them. She opened one that had obviously been often turned over, and read a portion in the drawing tone of a beginner, then laughed and threw it from her, and listened, she continued, provokingly, commencing a verse of an old ballad in the same fashion. But his self-love would endure no further torment. I heard, and not altogether disapprovingly, a manual cheek given to her saucy tongue. The little wretch had done her utmost to hurt her cousin sensitive, though uncultivated feelings, and a physical argument was the only mode he had of balancing the account and repaying its effects on the inflictor. He afterwards gathered the books and hurled them on the fire. I read in his countenance what anguish it was to offer that sacrifice to spleen. I fancied as they consumed, he recalled the pleasure they had already imparted, and the triumph and ever-increasing pleasure he had anticipated from them, and I fancied, I guessed, the incitement to his secret studies also. He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn and hope of her approval were his first prompters to higher pursuits, and instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavours to raise himself had produced just the contrary result. Yes, that's all the good that such a brute as you can get from them, cried Catherine, sucking her damaged lip and watching the conflagration with indignant eyes. You'd better all you tongue now! He answered fiercely, and his agitation precluded further speech. He advanced hastily to the entrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed the door-stones, Mr. Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered him, and, laying hold of his shoulder, asked, What's to do now, my lad? Nowt, nowt, he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and anger in solitude. Heathcliff gazed after him and sighed, It will be odd if I thwart myself, he muttered, unconscious that I was behind him. But when I look for his father in his face, I find her every day more. How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear to see him. He bent his eyes to the ground and walked moodily in. There was a restless anxious expression in his countenance I had never remarked there before, and he looked spare in person. His daughter-in-law, unperceiving him through the window, immediately escaped to the kitchen, so that I remained alone. I'm glad to see you out of doors again, Mr. Lockwood, he said, and replied to my greeting. From selfish motives partly, I don't think I could readily supply your loss in this desolation. I wondered more than once what brought you here. An idle whim, I fear, sir, was my answer, or else an idle whim is going to spirit me away. I shall set out for London next week, and I must give you warning that I feel no disposition to retain thrush-crossed grains beyond the twelve months I agree to rent it. I believe I shall not live there any more. Oh, indeed, you're tired of being banished from the world, are you? he said. But if you be coming to plead off paying for a place you won't occupy, your journey is useless. I never relent in exacting my due from any one. I'm coming to plead off nothing about it, I exclaimed, considerably irritated. Should you wish it, I'll settle with you now. And I drew my notebook from my pocket. No, no, he replied, coolly. You'll leave sufficient behind to cover your debts if you fail to return. I'm not in such a hurry. Sit down and take your dinner with us. I guess this is safe from repeating his visit can generally be made welcome. Catherine, bring the things in. Where are you? Catherine reappeared, bearing a tray of knives and forks. You may get your dinner with Joseph, muttered Heathcliff aside, and remain in the kitchen till he is gone. She obeyed his directions very punctually. Perhaps she had no temptation to transgress. Living among clowns and misanthropists, she probably cannot appreciate a better class of people when she meets them. With Mr. Heathcliff, grim and satinine on the one hand, and Herton absolutely dumb on the other, I made a somewhat cheerless meal and bade a due early. I would have departed by the backway to get a last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old Joseph, but Herton received orders to lead up my horse, and my host himself escorted me to the door, so I could not fulfil my wish. How dreary life gets over in that house, I reflected, while riding down the road. What a realisation of something more romantic than a fairy-tale it would have been for Mrs. Linton Heathcliff, had she and I struck up an attachment, as her good nurse desired, and migrated together into the same room. And migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of the town. End of Chapter 31 Chapter 32 of Wuthering Heights This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording by Chris Turtle Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 32 1802 This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend in the north, and on my journey to his abode, I unexpectedly came within fifteen miles of Gimmerton. The ostler at a roadside public-house was holding a pail of water to refresh my horses, when a cart of very green oats newly reaped, passed by, and he remarked, Yonesre Gimmertoner, as Alistair Wick after all the fort would harvest. Gimmerton, I repeated. My residence in that locality had already grown dim and dreamy. Ah, I know! How far is it from this? Up and fourteen miles over ills in a rough road, he answered. A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange. It was scarcely noon, and I conceived that I might as well pass the night under my own roof as in an inn. Besides, I could spare a day easily to arrange matters with my landlord, and thus save myself the trouble of invading the neighbourhood again. Having rested a while, I directed my servant to inquire the way to the village, and, with great fatigue to our beasts, we managed the distance in some three hours. I left him there, and proceeded down the valley alone. The gray church looked grayer, and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I distinguished a moor sheep cropping the short turf on the graves. It was sweet warm weather, too warm for travelling, but the heat did not hinder me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below. Had I seen it near August, I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste a month among its solitudes. In winter nothing more dreary, in summer nothing more divine than those glans shut in by hills, and those bluff-bold swells of heath. I reached the Grange before sunset, and knocked for admittance, but the family had retreated into the back premises I judged by one thin blue wreath curling from the kitchen chimney, and they did not hear. I rode into the court. Under the porch a girl of nine or ten sat knitting, and an old woman reclined on the house-steps, smoking a meditative pipe. Is Mrs. Dean within? I demanded of the dame. Mistress Dean? Nay, she answered. She didn't buy an ear. She was up at— Aight! Are you the housekeeper then? I continued. Yeah, I'll kick-douse, she replied. Well, I'm Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge me, and I wonder? I wish to stay all night. To—master! She cried in astonishment. Wait! Whoever knew you were coming! You should have said word! They's not nor the dry, nor menchful about place, now there isn't. She threw down her pipe and bustled in. The girl followed, and I entered, too, soon perceiving that her report was true, and moreover that I had almost upset her wits by my unwelcome apparition. I bade her to be composed. I would go out for a walk, and, meantime, she must try to prepare a corner of a sitting-room for me to sup in, and a bedroom to sleep in. No sweeping and dusting, only good fire and dry sheets were necessary. She seemed willing to do her best, though she thrust the hearth-brush into the grates and mistake for the poker, and malappropriated several other articles of her craft. But I retired, confiding in her energy for a resting-place against my return. Wuthering Heights was the goal of my proposed excursion, and afterthought brought me back when I had quitted the court. All well at the Heights? I inquired of the woman. Eh, fraut in ha! She answered, scurrying away with a pan of hot cinders. I would have asked why Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange, but it was impossible to delay her at such a crisis, so I turned away and made my exit, rambling leisurely along with the glow of a sinking sun behind, and the mild glory of a rising moon in front. One fading, and the other brightening, as I quitted the park, and climbed the stony by-road, branching off to Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling. Before I arrived in sight of it, all that remained of day was a beamless amber light along the west, but I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass by that splendid moon. I had neither to climb the gate nor to knock, it yielded to my hand. That is an improvement, I thought, and I noticed another by the aid of my nostrils, a fragrance of stalks and wall-flowers wafted on the air from amongst the homely fruit trees. Both doors and lattices were open, and yet, as is usually the case in a coal district, a fine red fire illumined the chimney. The comfort which the eye derives from it renders the extra heat and durable. But the House of Wuthering Heights is so large that the inmates have plenty of space of withdrawing out of its influence, and accordingly what inmates there were had stationed themselves not far from one of the windows. I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered, and looked and listened in consequence, being moved there too by a mingled sense of curiosity and envy that grew as I lingered. Contrary, said a voice as sweet as a silver bell, that for the third time, you dunce, I'm not going to tell you again, recollect, or I'll pull your hair. Contrary, then, answered another, in deep but softened tones, and now kiss me for minding so well. No, read it over first correctly without a single mistake. The male speaker began to read. He was a young man, respectively dressed, and seated at a table, having a book before him. His handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek whenever its owner detected such signs of inattention. Its owner stood behind, her light shining ringlets blending at intervals with her brown looks, as she bent to superintend his studies, and her face, it was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never have been so steady. I could, and I bit my lip in spite, at having thrown away the chance I might have had of doing something besides staring at its smiting beauty. The task was done, not free from further blunders, but the pupil claimed a reward, and received at least five kisses, which, however, he generously returned. 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 Herton 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 sculled 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, sowing 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 rather buy a loaf, have him swearing in me luke's from morn to night, you arke in his arse either, said the tenants of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly's. It's a blazing shame that cannot open, blessed book, for you set up then glories to Satan, and hope-flacing wickednesses that if were born into the world. Oh, you're a right note, and choose another, and that poor lad will be lost between you. Poor lad, he added with a groan, he's witch'd, I'm certain on it. Oh, Lord Judge'em, for there's no other law nor justice among the rulers. No, always should be sitting in flaming faggots, I suppose, retorted the singer, but wished old man, and read your Bible like a Christian, and never mind me. This is fairy Annie's wedding, a bonnetune, and it goes to a dance. Mrs. Dean was about to recommend, when I advanced, and, recognizing me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying, Why bless you, Mr. Lockwood! How could you think of returning in this way? All 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'd part again to-morrow. And how are you transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? Tell me that. Zilla left, and Mr. Eathcliffe wished me to come soon after you went to London, and stayed till you returned. Let's step in, pray, have you walked from Gimmett in this evening? From the Grange, I replied, and while they make me lodging-room there, I wish to finish my business with your master, because I don't think of having another opportunity in a hurry. What business, sir? said Nellie, 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. Eathcliffe you must settle, she observed, or rather with me. She's 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 Eathcliffe's death, I see, she continued. Eathcliffe dead, I exclaimed, astonished. How long ago? Three months since. But sit down and let me take your at. 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 the late rambles, but they don't care for me. At least have a drink of her old ale. It will do you good. You seem weary. She hastened to fetch it before I could refuse, and then I heard Joseph asking whether it wasn't a crying scundle that you should have followers or a dime alive, and then to get them jocks out, master's seller, if their shame did buy 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 Eathcliffe'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. Eathcliffe did not explain his reasons for taking a new mind about my coming-ear. 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 which would get on intolerable 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 Ayrton 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 as 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 all evening staring into 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, Ayrton, 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's twitching his shoulder as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen. Mr. Ayrton 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 Ayrton 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 you not naughty, I said? Answer me that. Perhaps I was, she went on. But I did not expect him to be so silly. Ayrton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try. She placed one she had been perusing on his hand, and he flung it off and muttered. If she did not give over, you would break her neck. Well, I shall put it here, she said, in the table-draw, and I am 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 effectively. But her ingenuity was at work to remedy the injury. While I ironed up or pursued some other stationary employments as I could not well do in the parlour, she would bring some pleasant volume and read it aloud to me. When Ayrton 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 aptly 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 of the garden the moment had began, and as the last resource cried, and said she was tired of living, her life was useless. Mr. Eathcliffe, 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 ills by himself, as Splinter cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach home. The consequence was that before she 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 ate a 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 Gimit and 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 burst 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 arthstone. I bestowed little attention on her proceedings, but presently I heard her begin. I found out, Herton, 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. Herton returned, no answer. Herton, Herton, Herton, do you hear? She continued. Get off where you, he growled, with uncompromising gruffness. Let me take that pipe, she said, cautiously advancing around 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, Herton. You are my cousin, and you shall own me. I shall have not to do with you and your mocky pride and your damned mocking tricks," he answered. I'll go to El Bodie and Sob before I look sideways after you again. Side out at gate, now, this minute. Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat, chewing a lip and endeavouring, by omitting an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing tendency to Sob. You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Ayrton, I interrupted, since your repentance 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 soon. Nay, if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned for seeing her goodwill any more. It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me, wept, Catherine, no longer disguising her trouble. You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff does, and more. You're a damned liar, began her unsure. Why have I made him angry by taking your part, then, a hundred times? And that when you sneered at and despised me and go on plaguing me and all stepping yonder and say you've worried me out of the kitchen? I didn't know you took my part, she answered, drying her eyes, and I was miserable and bitter at everybody. But now I thank you and beg you to forgive me. What can I do besides? She returned to the earth and frankly extended her hand. He blackened and scowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have divined it was obdurate perversity and not dislike that prompted this dogged conduct, for after remaining an instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle kiss. The little rogue thought I had not seen her, and, drawing back, she took her former station by the window quite demurely. I shook my head reprovingly, and then she blushed and whispered, Well, what should I have done, Alan? He wouldn't shake hands and he wouldn't look. I must show him some way that I like him, that I want to be friends. Whether the kiss convinced Ayrton, I cannot tell. He was very careful for some minutes that his face should not be seen, and when he did raise it he was sadly puzzled where to turn his eyes. Catherine employed herself in wrapping and some book neatly in white paper, and, having tied it with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it to Mr. Ayrton Earnshaw, she desired me to be her ambassadress and convey the present to its destined recipient. And tell him if he'll take it, I'll come and teach him to read it right, she said, and if he refuses, I'll go upstairs and never tease him again. I carried it, and repeated the message, anxiously watched by my employer. Ayrton would not open his fingers, so I laid it on his knee. He did not strike it off either. I returned to my work. Catherine leaned her head and arms on the table, till she heard the slight rustle of the covering being removed, then she stole away and quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his face glowed. All his rudeness and all his surly arsonists had deserted him. He could not summon courage at first to utter a syllable in reply to her questioning look, and her murmured petition. Say, you forgive me, Ayrton, do? You can make me so happy by speaking that little word. He muttered something inaudible. And you'll be my friend? added Catherine, interrogatively. Nay, you'll be ashamed of me every day of your life, he answered, and the more ashamed the more you know me, and I cannot bide it. So you won't be my friend? she said, smiling as sweet as onnie and creeping close up. I overheard no further distinguishable talk, but on looking round again I perceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page of the accepted book, that I did not doubt the treaty had been ratified on both sides, and the enemies were, thenceforth, sworn allies. The work they studied was full of costly pictures, and those in their position had charm enough to keep them on move till Joseph came home. He, poor man, was perfectly aghast at the spectacle of Catherine seated on the same bench with Ayrton Earnshaw, leaning her hand on his shoulder, and confounded at his favourite's endurance of her proximity. It affected him too deeply to allow an observation on the subject that night. His emotion was only revealed by the immense size he drew, as he solemnly spread his large bible on the table, and overlaid it with dirty bank notes from his pocket-book, the produce of the day's transactions. At length he summoned Ayrton from his seat. Take these into master-lad, he said, and bide there, his gang up to my own ram. This owes neither mensful nor seemly for us. We must side out and search another. Come, Catherine, I said. We must side out, too. I've done my ironing. Are you ready to go? It is not eight o'clock, she answered, rising unwillingly. He, Ayrton, I leave this book upon the chimney-piece, and I'll bring some more to-morrow. Only books that you leave I shall tack it out, said Joseph, and I'll be mitch if you find them again, so you may please yourself. Cathy threatened that his library should pay for hers, and smiling as she passed Ayrton went singing upstairs, lighter of art, I venture to say, than she'd ever been under that roof before, except perhaps during her earliest visits to Linton. The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly, though it encountered temporary interruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher and no paragon of patience, but both their minds, tending to the same point, one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed, they contrived in the end to reach it. You see, Mr. Lockwood, it was easy enough to win Mrs. Eathcliffe's art. But now I'm glad you did not try. The crown of all my wishes will be the union of those two. I shall envy no one on their wedding day. There won't be a happier woman than myself in England.