 CHAPTER XXI. We had sad work with little Kathy that day. She rose in high glee, eager to join her cousin, and such passionate tears and lamentations followed the news of his departure that Edgar himself was obliged to soothe her by affirming he should come back soon. He added, however, if I can get him. And there were no hopes of that. This promise poorly pacified her, but time was more potent, and though still at intervals she inquired of her father when Linton would return, before she did see him again his features had waxed so dim in her memory that she did not recognize him. When I chanced to encounter the housekeeper of Wethering Heights and paying business visits to Grimerton, I used to ask how the young master got on, for he lived almost as secluded as Catherine herself, and was never to be seen. I could gather from her that he continued in weak health, and was tiresome inmate. She said Mr. Heathcliff seemed to dislike him ever longer and worse, though he took some trouble to conceal it. He had an antipathy to the sound of his voice, could not do at all with his sitting in the same room with him many minutes together. There seldom passed much talk between them. Linton learned his lessons, and spent his evenings in a small apartment they called the parlor. Or else he lay in bed all day, for he was constantly getting coughs, and colds, and aches, and pains of some sort. And I never know such a faint-hearted creature, added the woman, nor when so careful of himself. He will go on if I leave the window open a bit late in the evening. Oh, it's killing a breath of the night air! And he must have a fire in the middle of summer, and Joseph's back-a-pipe is poison. And he must always have sweets and dainties, and always milk—milk, for ever, heating not how the rest of us are pinched in winter. And there he'll sit, wrapped in his furred cloak, in his chair by the fire, with some toast and water, or other slop on the hob to sip at. And if Harriton, for pity, comes to amuse him, Harriton is not bad-natured, though he's rough. They're sure to part, when swearing and the other crying. I believe the master would relish Earnshaw's thrashing him to a mummy, if he were not his son. And I'm certain he would be fit to turn him out of doors, if he knew half the nurse in he gives himself. But then he won't go into danger of temptation. He never enters the parlor, and should lint and show those ways in the house where he is, he sends him upstairs directly. I'd divine from this account, that utter lack of sympathy had rendered young Heathcliff selfish and disagreeable, if he were not so originally. And my interest in him consequently decayed, though still I was moved with a sense of grief at his lot, and a wish that he had been left with us. Mr. Edgar encouraged me to gain information. He thought a great deal about him, I fancy, and would have run some risk to see him. And he told me once to ask the housekeeper whether he ever came into the village. She said he had only been twice on horseback, accompanying his father, and both times he pretended to be quite knocked up for three or four days afterwards. The housekeeper left, if I recollect rightly, two years after he came, and another, whom I did not know, was her successor. She lives there still. Time wore on at the Grange in its former pleasant way till Miss Cathy reached sixteen. On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs of rejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress's death. Her father invariably spent that day alone in the library, and walked at dusk as far as Gimerton Courtyard, where he would frequently prolong his stay beyond midnight. Therefore Catherine was thrown on her own resources for amusement. This twentieth of March was a beautiful spring day, and when her father had retired, my young lady came down dressed for going out, and said she asked to have a ramble on the edge of the moor with me. After Linton had given her leave, if we went only a short distance, and were back within the hour. So make haste, Ellen, she cried. I know where I wish to go, where a colony of moor-gamer settled. I want to see whether they have made their nests yet. That must be a good distance up, I answered. They don't breed on the edge of the moor. No, it's not, she said. I've gone very near with Papa. I put on my bonnet, and sallied out, thinking nothing more of the matter. She bounded before me, and returned to my side, and was off again like a young grey hand. And at first I found plenty of entertainment in listening to the lark singing far near, and enjoying the sweet warm sunshine, and watching her, my pet and my delight, with her golden ringlets flying loose behind, and her bright cheek, as soft and pure in its bloom as a wild rose, and her eyes radiant with cloudless pleasure. She was a happy creature, and an angel in those days. It's a pity she could not be content. Well, said I, where are your moor game, Miss Cathy? We should be at them. The Grange Park fence is a great way off now. Oh, a little further, only a little further, Ellen, was her answer, continually. Climbed to that hillock, passed the bank, and by the time you reached the other side I shall have raised the birds. But there were so many hillocks and banks to climb and pass, that at length I began to be weary, and told her we must halt, and retrace our steps. I shouted to her, as she had outstripped me a long way. She either did not hear, or did not regard, for she still sprang on, and I was compelled to follow. Finally, she dived into a hollow, and before I came inside of her again, she was two miles nearer weathering heights than her own home, and I beheld a couple of persons arrest her. One of whom I felt convinced was Mr. Hescliffe himself. Hescliffe had been caught in the fact of plundering, or at least hunting out the nests of the grouse. The heights were Hescliffe's land, and he was reproving the poacher. I've neither taken any, nor found any, she said, as I toiled to them, expanding her hands in corroboration of the statement. I didn't mean to take them, but Papa told me there were quantities up here, and I wished to see the eggs. Hescliffe glanced at me with an ill-meaning smile, expressing his acquaintance with the party, and consequently his malevolence toward it, and demanded who Papa was. Mr. Linton of Thresh Cross Grange, she replied, I thought you did not know me, or you wouldn't have spoken in that way. You suppose Papa is highly esteemed and respected then? He said sarcastically. And what are you? inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on the speaker. That man I've seen before—is he your son? She pointed to Heriton, the other individual, who had gained nothing but increased bulk and strength by the addition of two years to his age. He seemed as awkward and rough as ever. Miss Cathy, I interrupted, it will be three hours instead of one that we are out presently. We really must go back. No, that man is not my son, answered Hescliffe, pushing me aside. But I have one, and you have seen him before, too. And though your nurse is in a hurry, I think both you and she would be better for a little rest. Will you just turn this nab of heath, and walk into my house? You'll get home earlier for the ease, and you shall receive a kind welcome. I whispered Catherine that she mustn't, on any account, exceed to the proposal. It was entirely out of the question. Why, she asked aloud, I'm tired of running, and the ground is dewy, I can't sit here. Let us go, Ellen. Besides, he says I have seen his son. He's mistaken, I think, but I guess where he lives. At the farmhouse I visited, incoming from Peniston-Craigs. Don't you? I do. Come, Nellie, hold your tongue. It will be a treat for her to look in on us. Heriton, get forwards at the last. You shall walk with me, Nellie. No, she's not going to any such place, I cried, struggling to release my arm which she had seized. But she was almost at the doorstones already, scampering round the brow at full speed. Her appointed companion did not pretend to escort her. She shied off by the roadside, and vanished. Mr. Heathcliff, it's very wrong. I continued, You know you mean no good, and there shall see Linton, and all will be told as soon as ever we return, and I shall have the blame. I want her to see Linton, he answered. He's looking better these few days. It's not often he's fit to be seen, and will soon persuade her to keep the visit secret. Where is the harm of it? The harm of it is that her father would hate me if he found out I suffered her to enter your house. And I am convinced you have a bad design in encouraging her to do so, I replied. My design is as honest as possible. I'll inform you of its whole scope, he said, that the two cousins may fall in love and get married. I'm acting generously to your master. His young shit has no expectations, and should she second my wishes she'll be provided for at once as joint successor with Linton. If Linton died, I answered, and his life is quite uncertain, Catherine would be the heir. No, she would not, he said. There is no clause in the will to secure it so. His property would go to me, but to prevent disputes, I desire their union, and am resolved to bring it about. And I'm resolved, she shall never approach your house with me again, I returned, as we've reached the gate where Miss Cathy waited our coming. If Cliff Badd may be quiet, and, preceding us up the path, hastened to open the door. My young lady gave him several looks, as if she could not exactly make up her mind what to think of him. But now he smiled when he met her eye, and softened his voice in addressing her. And I was foolish enough to imagine the memory of her mother might disarm him from desiring her injury. Linton stood on the hearth. He had been out walking in the fields, for his cap was on, and he was calling to Joseph to bring him dry shoes. He had grown tall of his age, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary luster borrowed from the slubrious air and genial sun. Now, who is that, asked Mr. Heathcliff, turning to Cathy, can you tell? Your son, she said, having doubtfully surveyed first one and then the other. Yes, yes, answered he. But is this the only time you have beheld him? Think. Ah, you have a short memory. Linton, don't you recall your cousin that you used to tease us so with wishing to see? What, Linton, cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at the name. Is that little Linton? He's taller than I am. Are you Linton? The youth stepped forward and acknowledged himself. She kissed him fervently, and they gazed with wonder at the change time had brought in the appearance of each. Catherine had reached her full height. Her figure was both plump and slender, elastic as steel, and her whole aspect sparkling with health and spirits. Linton's looks and movements were very languid, and his form extremely slight. But there was a grace in his manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him not unpleasing. After exchanging numerous marks of fondness with him, his cousin went to Mr. Heathcliff, who lingered by the door, dividing his attention between the objects inside and those that lay without, pretending, that is, to observe the latter, and really noting the former alone. And you are my uncle, then, she cried, reaching up to salute him. I thought I liked you, though you were cross at first. Why don't you visit at the Grange with Linton? To live all these years such close neighbors and never see us is odd. What have you done so for? I visited it once or twice too often before you were born, he answered. There! Dammit! If you have any kisses to spare, give them to Linton, they are thrown away on me. Naughty Ellen! exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next with her lavish caresses. Wicked Ellen! To try to hinder me from entering! But I'll take this walk every morning in the future. May I, uncle, and sometimes bring papa? Won't you be glad to see us? Of course, replied the uncle with a hardly suppressed grimace, resulting from his deeper version to both the proposed visitors. Let's stay, he continued, turning towards the young lady. Now I think of it, I'd better tell you. Mr. Linton has a prejudice against me. We quarreled at one time of our lives with un-Christian ferocity. And if you mention coming here to him, he'll put a veto on your visits altogether. Therefore, you must not mention it, unless you be careless of seeing your cousin hereafter. You may come, if you will, but you must not mention it. Why did you quarrel? asked Catherine, considerably crestfallen. He thought me too poor to wed his sister, answered Heathcliff, and was grieved that I got her. His pride was hurt, and he'll never forgive it. That's wrong, said the young lady. Sometime I'll tell him so. But Linton and I have no share in your quarrel. I'll not come here, then. He shall come to the Grange. It will be too far for me, murmured her cousin, to walk four miles would kill me. No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then, not every morning, but once or twice a week. The father launched towards his son a glance of bitter contempt. I am afraid, Nellie, I shall lose my labour, he muttered to me. Miss Catherine, as the ninny calls her, will discover his value, and send him to the devil. Now, if it had been Herotin, do you know that twenty times a day I covet Herotin with all his degradation? I'd have loved the lad had he been someone else. But I think he's safe from her love. I'll pit him against that paltry creature, unless it besture itself briskly. We calculate it will scarcely last till it is eighteen. Oh, confound the vapid thing! He's absorbed in drying his feet, and never looks at her. Linton! Yes, father, answered the boy, have you nothing to show your cousin anywhere about, not even a rabbit or a weasel's nest? Take her into the garden before you change your shoes, and into the stable to see your horse. Wouldn't you rather sit here, asked Linton, addressing Cathy, in a tone which expressed reluctance to move again? I don't know, she replied, casting a longing lip to the door, and evidently eager to be active. He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire. Heath cliff rose, and went into the kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out for Herotin. Herotin responded, and presently the two re-entered. The young man had been washing himself, as was visible by the glow on his cheeks and his wedded hair. Oh, I'll ask you, uncle, cried Miss Cathy, recollecting the housekeeper's assertion. That is not my cousin, is he? Yes, he is, he replied, your mother's nephew. Don't you like him? Catherine looked queer. Is he not a handsome lad, he continued. The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence in Heathcliff's ear. He laughed. Herotin darkened. I perceived he was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion of his inferiority, but his master or guardian chased the frown by exclaiming. You'll be favorite among us, Herotin. She says you are a, what was it? Well, something very flattering. Here, you go with her round the farm, and behave like a gentleman, mind. Don't use any bad words, and don't stare when the young lady is not looking at you, and be ready to hide your face when she is. And when you speak, say your words slowly, and keep your hands out of your pockets. Be off, and entertain her as nicely as you can. He watched the couple walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenance completely averted from his companion. He seemed studying the familiar landscape with the strangers, and an artist's interest. Catherine took a sly look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned her attention to seeking out objects of amusement for herself, and tripped merrily on, loathing a tune to supply the lack of conversation. I've tied his tongue, observed Heathcliff, he'll not venture a single syllable all the time. Nellie, you recollect me at his age. Nay, some years younger, did I ever look so stupid, so gaunless, as Joseph calls it? Worse, I replied, because more sullen with it. I have a pleasure in him, he continued reflecting aloud. He has satisfied my expectations. If he were a born fool, I should not enjoy it half so much. But he's no fool, and I can sympathize with all his feelings, having felt them myself. I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly. It is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer, though. He'll never be able to emerge from his bathos of coarseness and ignorance. I've got him faster than his scoundrel of a father secured me, and lower, for he takes a pride in his brutishness. I've taught him to scorn everything extra animal, as silly and weak. Don't you think Hanley would be proud of his son if he could see him? Almost as proud as I am of mine. But there's this difference. One is gold put to the use of paving stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it, yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities, and they are lost, rendered worse than unavailing. I have nothing to regret. He would have more than any but I are aware of it. And the best of it is, Herotin is damlably fond of me. You'll own that I've outmatched Hanley there. If the dead villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for his offspring's wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing the said offspring fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail at the one friend he has in the world. Heathcliff chuckled a fiendish laugh at the idea. I made no reply, because I saw that he expected none. Meantime our young companion, who sat too removed from us to hear what was said, began to event symptoms of uneasiness, probably repenting that he had denied himself the treat of Catherine's society for fear of a little fatigue. His father remarked the restless glances wandering to the window, and the hand irresolutely extended towards his cap. Get up, you idle boy! He exclaimed with assumed heartiness. Away after them! They adjusted the corner by the stand of hives. Linton gathered his energies and left the hearth. The lattice was open, and as he stepped out I heard Kathy inquiring of her unsociable attendant, what was that inscription over the door? Heriton stared up and scratched his head like a true clown. It's some damnable writing, he answered. I cannot read it. Can't read it? cried Catherine. I can read it. It's English. But I want to know why it's there. Linton giggled. The first appearance of Murth he had exhibited. He does not know his letters, he said to his cousin. Did you believe in the existence of such a colossal dunce? Is he all as he should be? asked Miss Kathy seriously, or is he simple? Not right. I've questioned him twice now, and each time he looks so stupid I think he does not understand me. I can hardly understand him, I'm sure. Linton repeated his laugh, and glanced at Heriton tauntingly, who certainly did not seem quite clear of comprehension at that moment. There is nothing the matter but laziness. Is there urnsha? he said. My cousin fancies you are an idiot. There you experience the consequence of scorning book-learning, as you would say. Have you noticed Catherine, his frightful Yorkshire pronunciation? Why, where the devil is the youth on it? girled Heriton, more ready in answering his daily companion. He was about to enlarge further, but the two youngsters broke into a noisy fit of merriment. My giddy miss being delighted to discover that she might turn his strange talk to a matter of amusement. Where is the use of the devil in that sentence? tittered Linton. Papa told you not to say any bad words, and you can't open your mouth without one. Do try to behave like a gentleman. Now do. If thou weren't more alas than a lad, I'd fell thee this minute, I would, pitiful length of a creature, retorted the angry boar retreating, while his face burnt with mingled rage and mortification, for he was conscious of being insulted, and embarrassed how to resent it. Mr. Heathcliff, having overheard the conversation as well as I, smiled when he saw him go, but immediately afterwards cast a look of singular aversion on the flippant pair who remained chattering in the doorway, the boy finding animation enough while discussing Heriton's faults and deficiencies, and relating anecdotes of his goings-on, and the girl relishing his pert and spiteful sayings, without considering the ill nature they evinced. I began to dislike, more than to compassionate Linton, and to excuse his father in some measure for holding him cheap. We stayed till afternoon. I could not tear Miss Cathy away sooner, but happily my master had not quitted his apartment, and remained ignorant of our prolonged absence. As we walked home, I would feign have enlightened my charge on the characters of the people we had quitted, but she got it into her head that I was prejudiced against them. Aha! she cried, you take Papa's side, Ellen, you are partial, I know, or else she wouldn't have cheated me so many years into the notion that Linton lived a long way from here. I'm really extremely angry, only I'm so pleased I can't show it. But you must hold your tongue about my uncle. He's my uncle, remember, and I'll scold Papa for quarreling with him. And so she ran on till I relinquished the endeavour to convince her of her mistake. She did not mention the visit that night, because she did not see Mr. Linton. Next day it all came out, sadly to my chagrin, and still I was not altogether sorry. I thought the burden of directing a warning would be more efficiently borne by him than me. But he was too timid in giving satisfactory reasons for his wish that she should shun connection with the household of the Heights, and Catherine liked good reasons for every restraint that harassed her petted will. Papa, she exclaimed, after the morning salutations. Guess whom I saw yesterday in my walk on the moors. Ah, Papa, you started. You've not done right, have you now? I saw. But listen, and you shall hear how I found you out. And Ellen, who is in league with you, and yet pretended to pity me so when I kept hoping, and was always disappointed about Linton's coming back. She gave a faithful account of her excursion and its consequences. And my master, though he cast more than one reproachful look at me, said nothing till she had concluded. Then he drew her to him, and asked if she knew why he had concealed Linton's near-neighborhood from her. Could she think it was to deny her a pleasure that she might harmlessly enjoy? It was because you disliked Mr. Heathcliff, she answered. Then you believe I care more for my own feelings than yours, Cathy, he said? No, it was not because I disliked Mr. Heathcliff, but because Mr. Heathcliff dislikes me, and is a most diabolical man, delighting to wrong and ruin those he hates if they give him the slightest opportunity. I knew that you could not keep up an acquaintance with your cousin without being brought into contact with him, and I knew he would detest you on my account. So for your own good and nothing else, I took precautions that you should not see Linton again. I meant to explain this sometime as you grew older, and I'm sorry I delayed it. But Mr. Heathcliff was quite gorgell-papa, observed Catherine, not at all convinced, and he didn't object to our seeing each other, he said I might come to his house when I pleased, only I must not tell you because you had quarrelled with him, and would not forgive him for marrying Aunt Isabella. And you won't, you are the one to be blamed, he is willing to let us be friends at least, Linton and I, and you are not. My master, perceiving that she would not take his word for her uncle-in-law's evil disposition, gave a hasty sketch of his conduct to Isabella, and the manner in which Wuthering Heights became his property. He could not bear to discourse long upon the topic, for though he spoke little of it, he still felt the same horror and detestation of his ancient enemy that had occupied his heart ever since Mrs. Linton's death. She might have been living yet if it had not been for him, was his constant bitter reflection, and in his eyes Heathcliff seemed a murderer. Miss Cathy, conversant with no bad deeds except her own slight acts of disobedience, injustice, and passion, arising from a hot temper and thoughtlessness, and repented of on the day they were committed, was amazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood on and cover revenge for years, and deliberately prosecute its plans without a visitation of remorse. She appeared so deeply impressed and shocked at this new view of human nature, excluded from all her studies and all her ideas till now, that Mr. Edgar deemed it unnecessary to pursue the subject. He merely added, You will know hereafter, darling, why I wish you to avoid his house and family. Now return to your old employments and amusements, and think no more about them. Catherine kissed her father, and sat down quietly to her lessons for a couple of hours, according to custom. Then she accompanied him into the grounds, and the whole day passed as usual. But in the evening, when she had retired to her room and I went to help her to undress, I found her crying, on her knees by the bedside. Oh, Fie, silly child, I exclaimed. If you had any real griefs, you'd be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrarity. You never had one shadow of substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine. Suppose for a minute that Master and I were dead, and you were by yourself in the world. How would you feel then? Compare the present occasion with such an affliction as that, and be thankful for the friends you have, instead of coveting more. I'm not crying for myself, Ellen, she answered, it's for him. He expected to see me again to-morrow, and there he'll be so disappointed, and he'll wait for me, and I shan't come. Nonsense, said I, do you imagine he has thought as much of you as you have of him? Hasn't he heritoned for a companion? Not one in a hundred would weep at losing a relation they had just seen twice, for two afternoons. Linton will conjecture how it is, and trouble himself no further about you. But may I not write a note to tell him why I cannot come? She asked, rising to her feet, and just send those books I promised to lend him. His books are not as nice as mine, and he wanted to have them extremely when I told him how interesting they were. May I not, Ellen? No indeed, no indeed, I replied with decision. Then he would write to you, and there'd never be an end of it. No, Miss Catherine, the acquaintance must be dropped entirely, so Papa expects, and I shall see, that it is done. But how can one little note, she recommends, putting on an imploring countenance, silence, I interrupted, will not begin with your little notes, get into bed? She threw me a very naughty look, so naughty that I would not kiss her good night at first. I covered her up, and shut her door, in great displeasure. But repenting halfway, I returned softly, and lo! There was Miss, standing at the table with a bit of blank paper before her, and a pencil in her hand, which she guiltily slipped out of sight on my entrance. You'll get nobody to take that, Catherine, I said, if you write it, and at present I shall put out your candle. I set the extinguisher on the flame, receiving as I did so a slap on my hand and a petulant cross-thing. I then quitted her again, and she drew the bolt in one of her worst, most peevish humours. The letter was finished and forwarded to its destination by a milk fetcher who came from the village, but that I didn't learn till some time afterwards. Weeks passed on, and Kathy recovered her temper, though she grew wondrous fond of stealing off to corners by herself and often, if I came near her suddenly while reading, she would start and bend over the book, evidently desirous to hide it, and I detected edges of loose paper sticking out beyond the leaves. She also got a trick of coming down early in the morning and lingering about the kitchen, as if she were expecting the arrival of something, and she had a small drawer and a cabinet in the library which she would trifle over for hours, and whose key she took special care to remove when she left it. One day, as she inspected this drawer, I observed that the play things and trinkets which recently formed its contents were transmuted into bits of folded paper. My curiosity and suspicions were roused. I determined to take a peep at her mysterious treasures. So at night, as soon as she and my master were safe upstairs, I searched, and readily found among my house keys one that would fit the lock. Having opened, I emptied the whole contents into my apron, and tucked them with me to examine at leisure in my own chamber. Though I could not but suspect, I was still surprised to discover that they were a mass of correspondence, daily almost it must have been, from Linton Heathcliff. Answers to documents forwarded by her. The earlier dated were embarrassed and short. Finally, however, they expanded into copious love letters, foolish, as the age of the writer rendered natural, yet with touches here and there which I thought were borrowed from a more experienced source. Some of them struck me as singularly odd compounds of ardor and flatness, commencing in strong feeling, and concluding in the affected, wordy style that a schoolboy might use to a fancied and corporeal sweetheart. Whether they satisfied Kathy, I don't know, but they appeared very worthless trash to me. After turning over as many as I thought proper, I tied them in a handkerchief and set them aside, relocking the vacant drawer. Following her habit, my young lady descended early and visited the kitchen. I watched her go to the door on the arrival of a certain little boy, and while the dairymaid filled his can, she tucked something into his jacket pocket and plucked something out. I went round by the garden and laid weight for the messenger, who fought valorously to defend his trust, and we spilt the milk between us. But I succeeded in abstracting the epistle, and, threatening serious consequences if he did not look sharp home, I remained under the wall and perused Miss Kathy's affectionate composition. It was more simple and eloquent than her cousins, very pretty and very silly. I shook my head and went meditating into the house. The day being wet, she could not divert herself with rambling about the park, so, at the conclusion of her morning studies, she resorted to the solace of the drawer. Her father sat reading at the table, and I, on purpose, had sought a bit of work in some unripped fringes of the window curtain, keeping my eyes steadily fixed on her proceedings. Never did any bird, flying back to a plundered nest, which it had left brimful of chirping young ones, express more complete despair in its anguished cries and flutterings than she by her single oh! And the change that transfigured her late happy countenance. Mr. Linton looked up. What is the matter, love? Have you hurt yourself? He said. His tone and look assured her he had not been the discoverer of the horde. No, Papa, she gasped. Ellen, Ellen, come upstairs. I'm sick. I obeyed her summons and accompanied her out. Oh, Ellen, you have got them? She commenced immediately, dropping on her knees when we were enclosed alone. Oh, give them to me, and I'll never, never do so again. Don't tell Papa. You have not told Papa, Ellen. Say you have not. I've been exceedingly naughty, but I won't do it anymore. With a grave severity in my manner, I bad her stand up. So, I exclaimed, Miss Catherine, you are tolerably far on, it seems. You may well be ashamed of them. A fine bundle of trash you study in your leisure hours, to be sure. Why, it's good enough to be printed. And what do you suppose the master will think when I display it before him? I haven't shown it yet, but you needn't imagine I shall keep your ridiculous secrets. For shame, and you must have led the way in writing such absurdities, he would not have thought of beginning, I'm certain. I didn't, I didn't, sob, Cathy, fit to break her heart. I didn't once think of loving him till, loving, cried I, as scornfully as I could utter the word, loving. Did anybody ever hear the like? I might just as well talk of loving the miller, who comes once a year to buy our corn. Pretty loving indeed, and both times together you have seen Linton hardly four hours in your life. Now here is the babyish trash. I'm going with it to the library, and we'll see what your father says to such loving. She sprang at her precious epistles, but I held them above my head. And then she poured out further frantic entreaties that I would burn them, do anything rather than show them. And being really fully as much inclined to laugh as scold, for I esteemed at all girlish vanity, I at length relented in a measure, and asked, if I consent to burn them, will you promise faithfully, neither to send nor receive a letter again, nor a book, for I perceive you have sent him books, nor locks of hair, nor rings, nor playthings? We don't send playthings, cried Catherine, her pride overcoming her shame. Nor anything at all then, my lady, I said, unless you will, here I go. I promise, Ellen, she cried, catching my dress. Oh, put them in the fire, do, do. But when I proceeded to open a place with the poker, the sacrifice was too painful to be borne. She earnestly supplicated that I would spare her one or two. One or two, Ellen, to keep for Linton's sake. I unnotted the handkerchief, and commenced dropping them in from an angle, and the flame curled up the chimney. I will have one, you cruel wretch, she screamed, darting her hand into the fire, and drawing forth some half-consumed fragments at the expense of her fingers. Very well, and I will have some to exhibit to papa, I answered, shaking back the rest into the bundle, and turning anew to the door. She emptied her blacking pieces into the flames, and motioned me to finish the emulation. It was done. I stirred up the ashes, and interred them under a shovelful of coals. And she mutely, and with a sense of intense injury, retired to her private apartment. I descended to tell my master that the young lady's qualm of sickness was almost gone, but I judged it best for her to lie down awhile. She wouldn't dine, but she reappeared at tea, pale and right about the eyes, and marvelously subdued an outward aspect. Next morning I answered the letter by a slip of paper, inscribed, Master Heathcliff is requested to send no more notes to Miss Linton, as she will not receive them. And henceforth the little boy came with vacant pockets. End of CHAPTER XXI Summer drew to an end, and early autumn. It was past Mickelmas, but the harvest was late that year, and a few of our fields were still unclear. Mr. Linton and his daughter would frequently walk out among the reapers, at the carrying of the last sheaves they stayed till dusk, and the evening happening to be chill and damp my master caught a bad cold, that settled obstinately on his lungs and confined him indoors throughout the all of the winter, nearly without intermission. Lower Cathy, frightened from her little romance, had been considerably sadder and duller since its abandonment, and her father insisted on her reading less and taking more exercise. She had his companionship no longer. I esteemed it a duty to supply its lack as much as possible with mine, an inefficient substitute, for I could only spare two or three hours from my numerous diurnal occupations to follow her footsteps, and then my society was obviously less desirable than is. On an afternoon in October, or the beginning of November, a fresh watery afternoon when the turf and paths were rustling with moist withered leaves, and the cold blue sky was half hidden by clouds, dark grey streamers rapidly mounting from the west, and boarding abundant rain. I requested my young lady to forego her ramble, because I was certain of showers. She refused, and I unwillingly donned a cloak, and took my umbrella to accompany her on a stroll to the bottom of the park. A formal walk which she generally effected if low-spirited, and that she invariably was when Mr. Edgar had been worse than ordinary, a thing never known from his confession, but guessed both by her and me from his increased silence and the melancholy of his countenance. She went sadly on. There was no running or bounding now, though the chill wind might well have tempted at a race, and often from the side of my eye I could detect her raising an hand and brushing something off her cheek. I gazed round for a means of diverting her thoughts. On one side of the road rose a high, rough bank, where hazels and stunted orcs, with their roots half exposed, held uncertain tenure. The soil was too loose for the latter, and strong winds had blown some nearly horizontal. In summer Miss Catherine delighted to climb among these trunks, and sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet above the ground, and I, pleased with her agility in her light childish heart, still considered it proper to scold every time I caught her at such an elevation, but saw that she would know there was no necessity for descending. From dinner to tea she would lie in her breeze-rocked cradle, doing nothing except singing old songs, my nursery-law, to herself, or watching the birds, joint tenants, feed and entice their young ones to fly, or nestling with closed lids, half thinking, half dreaming, happier than words can express. Look, Miss, I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of one twisted tree. Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of blue-bells that clouded those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up and pluck it to show to papa? Kathy stared a long time at the lonely blossom, trembling in its earthly shelter, and replied at length, No, I'll not touch it. But it looks melancholy, does it not, Ellen? Yes, I observed, about as starved and suckless as your cheeks are bloodless. Let us take all the vans and run. You're so low, I dare say I shall keep up with you. No, she repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing at intervals to muse over a bit of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or a fungus spreading its bright orange among the eeps of brown foliage, and ever and on her hand was lifted to a reverted face. Catherine, why are you crying, love? I asked, approaching and putting my arm over her shoulder. You mustn't cry because papa is a cold. Be thankful it is nothing worse. She now put no further restraint on her tears. Her breath was stifled by sobs. Oh, it will be something worse, she said. And what shall I do when papa and you leave me, and I am by myself? I can't forget your words, Ellen. They will always be in my ear. How life will be changed. How dreary the world will be when papa and you are dead! None can tell whether you won't die before us, I replied. It's wrong to anticipate evil. We'll hope there are years and years to come before any of us go. Master is young, and I am strong, and hardly forty-five. My mother lived till eighty, a canty dame to the last. And suppose Mr. Linton was spared till he saw sixty, that would be mower years than you have counted, Miss, and would it not be foolish to mourn a calamity above twenty years beforehand? Aunt Isabella was younger than papa. She remarked, gazing up with timid hope to seek further consolation. Aunt Isabella are not you and me to nurse her. I replied, she wasn't as happy as Master. She earned as much to live for. All you need do is to wait well in your father, and cheer him by letting him see you cheerful, and avoid giving him anxiety on any subject. Mind that, Kathy. I'll not disguise, but you might kill him if you were wild and reckless, and cherished a foolish, fanciful affection for the son of a person who would be glad to have him in his grave, and allowed him to discover that you've fretted over the separation he has judged it expedient to make. I fret about nothing on earth except papa's illness, answered my companion. I care for nothing in comparison with papa, and I'll never, never, oh never, will I have my senses do an act or say a word to vex him. I love him better than myself, Alan, and I know it by this. I pray every night that I may live after him, because I would rather be miserable than that he should be. That proves I love him better than myself. Good words, I replied. But deeds must prove it also, and after he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear. As we talked, we neared a door that opened on the road, a my young lady lightning into sunshine again, climbed up and seated herself on the top of the wall, reaching over to gather some ips that bloomed scarlet on the summit branches of the wild rose-trees shadowing the eye-way side, lower fruit had disappeared, but only birds could touch the upper, except from Kathy's present station. In stretching to pull them, her hat fell off, and as the door was locked she proposed scrambling down to recover it. I bid her be cautious, lest she got a fall and she nimbly disappeared. But the return was no such easy matter. The stones were smooth and neatly cemented, and the rose-bushes and black-brose stragglers could yield no assistance in re-ascending. I, like a fool, didn't recollect that, till I heard her laughing and exclaiming, "'Ellen, you'll have to fetch the key, or else I must run round to the porter's lodge. I can't scale the ramparts on this side.' "'Stay where you are,' I answered. I have my bundle of keys in my pocket. Perhaps my I may manage to open it. If not, I'll go.' Catherine amused herself with dancing to and fro before the door, while I tried all the large keys in succession. I had applied the last, and found that none would do. So repeating my desire that she would remain there, I was about to hurry home as fast as I could, when an approaching sound arrested me. It was the trot of her horse. Cathy's dance stopped also. "'Who is that?' I whispered. "'Ellen, I wish you could open the door!' whispered back my companion anxiously. "'Oh, Miss Linton,' cried a deep voice, the riders, "'I'm glad to meet you. Don't be in haste to enter, for I have an explanation to ask and obtain.' "'I shan't speak to you, Mr. Heathcliff,' answered Catherine. "'Papa says you are a wicked man, and you hate both him and me, and Ellen says the same.' "'That is nothing to my purpose,' said Heathcliff. He it was. "'I don't hate my son, I suppose, and it is concerning him that I demand your attention. Yes, you have caused a blush. Two or three months since, were you not in the habit of writing to Linton, making love in play, eh? You deserved both of you flogging for that. You especially, the elder, and less sensitive as it turns out. I've got your letters, and if you give me any pertinence, I'll send them to your father.' "'I presume you grew weary of the amusement and dropped it, didn't you?' "'Well, you dropped Linton with it into a slough of despond. He was the earnest, in love, really. As true as I live, he's dying for you, breaking his heart at your fickleness, not figuratively, but actually. Though Herten has made him a standing jest for six weeks, and I have used more serious measures and attempted to frighten him out of his idiocy, he gets worse daily, and he'll be under the sod before summer unless you restore him.' "'How can you lie so glaringly to the poor child?' I called from the inside. Bray, ride on. How can you deliberately get up such paltry falsehoods? Miss Kathy, I'll knock the lock off with a stone. You won't believe that vile nonsense. You can feel it in yourself. It's impossible that a person should die for love of a stranger.' "'I was not aware there were eavesroppers,' muttered the detected villain. "'Worthy, Mrs. Dean. I like you, but I don't like your double dealing,' he added aloud. "'How could you lie so glaringly to affirm I hated the poor child, and invent bugbear stories to terrify her from my doorstones?' "'Catherine Linton,' the very name warms me, "'my Bonnie Lass, I shall be home all this week. Go and see, if I've not spoken truth. Do as a darling. Just imagine your father in my place, and Linton in yours. Then think how you would value your careless lover if he refused to stir a step to comfort you when your father himself entreated him, and don't from pure stupidity fall into the same error. I swear on my salvation he's going to his grave, and none but you can save him.' "'The lot gave way, and I issued out.' "'I swear Linton is dying,' repeated Eathcliff, looking hard at me, and grief and disappointment are hastening his death. "'Nelly, if you won't let her go, you can walk over it yourself. But I shall not return till this time next week, and I think your master himself would scarcely object to her visiting her cousin.' "'Come in,' said I, taking Cathy by the arm, and are forcing her to re-enter, for she lingered, viewing with troubled eyes the features of the speaker, too stern to express his inward deceit. He pushed his oars close, and bending down observed, "'Miss Catherine, I'll own to you that I have little patience with Linton, and Herten and Joseph have less. I'll own that he's with a harsh set. He pines for kindness, as well as love, and a kind word from you would be his best medicine. Don't mind Mrs. Dean's cruel cautions, but be generous, and contrive to see him. He dreams of you day and night, and cannot be persuaded that you don't hate him, since you neither write nor call. I closed the door, and rolled a stone to assist the loosened lock in holding it, and spreading my umbrella, I drew my charge underneath, for the rain began to drive through the moaning branches of the trees, and warned us to avoid delay. Our hurry prevented any comment on the encounter with Heathcliff, as we stretched towards home, but I devined instinctively that Catherine's art was clouded now in double darkness. Her features were so sad they did not seem hers. She evidently regarded what she had heard as every syllable true. The master had retired to rest before we came in. She stole to his room to inquire how he was. He had fallen asleep. She returned, and asked me to sit with her in the library. We took our tea together, and afterwards she lay down on the rug, and told me not to talk, for she was weary. I got a book, and pretended to read. As soon as she supposed me absorbed in my occupation, she recommended a silent weeping. It appeared at present her favourite diversion. I suffered her to enjoy it awhile, then I postulated, deriding and ridiculing all Mr. Heathcliff's assertions about his son, as if I was certain she would coincide. Alas! I had no skill to counteract the effect as a count had produced. It was just what he intended. You may be right, Helen, she answered, but I shall never feel at ease till I know. And I must tell Linton it is not my fault that I don't write, and convince him that I shall not change. What use were anger and protestations against her silly credulity? We parted that night, hostile, the next day beow'd me on the road to Wuthering Heights, by the side of my willful young mistress's pony. I couldn't bear to witness her sorrow, to see her pale dejected countenance and heavy eyes, and I yielded, in the faint hope that Linton himself might prove, by his reception of us, how little of the tale was founded on fact. CHAPTER XXIII The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning, half frost, half drizzle, and temporary brooks crossed our path, gurgling from the uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted. I was cross and low, exactly the humour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things. We entered the farmhouse by the kitchen-way, to ascertain whether Mr. Eathcliffe were really absent, because I put slight faith in his own affirmation. Joseph seemed sitting in a sort of Elysium alone, beside a roaring fire, a court of ale on the table near him, bristling with large pieces of toasted oat-cake, and his black short pipe in his mouth. Catherine ran to the hearth to warm herself. I asked if the master was in. My question remained so long unanswered that I thought the old man had grown deaf, and repeated it louder. Nyeh! He snarled, or rather screamed through his nose. Nyeh! Ya, I'm a go-back-way-a-cum-vra! Joseph! cried a peevish voice, simultaneously with me from the inner room. How often am I to call you? There are only a few red ashes now. Joseph, come this moment!" Vigorous puffs and a resolute stare into the grate, declared he had no air for this appeal. The housekeeper and Ayrton were invisible, one gone on an errand, and the other at his work probably. We knew Linton's tones, and entered. Oh! I hope you'll die in a garret! Starved to the death! said the boy, mistaking our approach for that of his negligent attendant. He stopped on observing his error. His cousin flew to him. "'Is that you, Miss Linton?' he said, raising his head from the arm of the great chair in which she reclined. "'No. Don't kiss me. It takes my breath. Dear me, papa said you would call!' continued he, after recovering a little from Catherine's embrace, while she stood by, looking very contrite. "'Will you shut the door, if you please? You left it open. Those detestable creatures won't bring colds to the fire. It's so cold!' I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttle-fall myself. The invalid complained of being covered with ashes, but he had a tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his temper. "'Well, Linton,' murmured Catherine, when his co-regrated brow relaxed, "'are you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?' "'Why didn't you come before?' he asked. "'You should have come, instead of writing. It's tired me dreadfully writing those long letters. I'd rather have talked to you. Now I can neither bear to talk nor anything else.' I wonder where Zilla is. "'Will you, looking at me, step into the kitchen and see?' I received no thanks to my other service, and being unwilling to run to and fro at his behest, I replied. "'Nobody is out there but Joseph.' "'I want to drink,' he exclaimed fretfully, turning away. Zilla is constantly getting off to Gimmarton since Papa went. It's miserable, and I'm obliged to come down here. They resolved never to hear me upstairs.' "'As your father attended to you, Master Eathcliffe,' I asked, perceiving Catherine to be checked in her friendly advances. "'Attentive?' "'Makes them a little more attentive at least,' he cried. "'The wretches!' "'You know, Miss Linton, that brute-head and laughs at me. I hate him. Indeed, I hate them all. They are odious beings.' Cathy began searching for some water. She lighted on a pitcher in the dresser, filled a tumbler, and brought it. He bid her out a spoonful of wine from a bottle on the table, and having swallowed a small portion, appeared more tranquil, and said she was very kind. "'And are you glad to see me?' asked she. Reiterating her form a question, and pleased to detect the faint dawn of a smile. "'Yes, I am. It's something new to hear a voice like yours,' he replied. "'But I have been vexed because you wouldn't come. And, for past swore, it was o'ing to me. He called me a pitiful, shuffling, worthless thing, and said you despised me. And if he had been in my place, he would be more the master of the Grange than your father by this time. "'But you don't despise me, do you, Miss?' "'I wish you would say Catherine or Cathy,' interrupted my young lady. "'Despise you? No. Next papa and Ellen, I love you better than anybody living. I don't love Mr Heathcliff, though, and I dare not come when he returns. Will he stay away many days?' "'Not many,' answered Linton. But he goes on to the Moors frequently since the shooting season commenced, and you might spend an hour or two with me in his absence. "'Do say you will. I think I should not be peevish with you. You'd not provoke me, and you'd always be ready to help me, wouldn't you?' "'Yes,' said Catherine, stroking his long, soft air. If I could only get papa's consent, I'd spend half my time with you, pretty Linton. I wish you were my brother.' "'And then you would like me as well as your father?' observed he, more cheerfully. "'But papa says you would love me better than him and all the world if you were my wife, so I'd rather you were that.' "'No, I should never love anybody better than papa,' she returned gravely. And people hate their wives sometimes, but not their sisters and brothers, and if you were the latter you would live with us, and papa would be as fond of you as he is of me.' Linton denied the people ever aided their wives, but Catherine affirmed they did, and in her wisdom instanced his own father's aversion to her aunt. I endeavored to stop her thoughtless tongue. I couldn't succeed till everything she knew was out. Master Eathcliff, much irritated, asserted her relation was false. "'Papa told me, and papa does not tell falsehoods,' she answered, pertly. "'My papa scorns yours,' cried Linton. He calls him a sneaking fool. "'Yours is a wicked man,' retorted Catherine, and you are very naughty to dare to repeat what he says. He must be wicked to have made aunt Isabella leave him as she did. "'She didn't leave him,' said the boy. "'You shan't contradict me.' "'She did,' cried my young lady. "'Well, I'll tell you something,' said Linton. Your mother hated your father. Now then.' "'Oh!' exclaimed Catherine, too enraged to continue. And she loved mine.' Added he. "'You little liar, I hate you now,' she panted, and her face grew red with passion. "'She did, she did,' sang Linton, sinking into the recess of his chair, and leaning back his head to enjoy the agitation of the other disputant, who stood behind. "'Hush, Master Heathcliff,' I said. "'That's your father's tale, too, I suppose.' "'It isn't, you hold your tongue,' he answered. "'She did, she did, Catherine. She did, she did.' Catherine, beside herself, gave the chair a violent push and caused him to fall against one arm. He was immediately seized by a suffocating cough that soon ended his triumph. It lasted so long that it frightened even me. As to his cousin, she wept with all her might, aghast at the mischief she had done, though she said nothing. I held him till the fit exhausted itself. Then he thrust me away, and lent his head down silently. Catherine quelled her lamentations also, took a seat opposite, and looked solemnly into the fire. "'How do you feel now, Master Heathcliff?' I inquired, after waiting ten minutes. "'I wish she felt as idle,' he replied. "'Spiteful, cruel thing! Herton never touches me. He never struck me in his life, and I was better today. There!' His voice died in a whimper. "'I didn't strike you!' muttered Catherine, chewing a lip to prevent another burst of emotion. He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering, and kept it up for a quarter an hour, on purpose to distress his cousin, apparently, for whenever he caught a stifled sob from her, he put renewed pain and pathos into the inflections of his voice. "'I'm sorry I hurt you, Linton,' she said at length, wracked beyond endurance, but I couldn't have been hurt by that little push. And I had no idea that you could either. You're not much, are you, Linton?' "'Don't let me go home, thinking I've done you harm.' "'Answer, speak to me.' "'I can't speak to you,' he murmured. "'You've hurt me so that I shall lie awake all night, choking with this cough. If you had it, you'd know what it was. And you'll be comfortably asleep while I'm in agony, and nobody near me. I wonder how you would like to pass those fearful nights.' And he began to wail aloud for very pity himself. "'Since you're in the habit of passing dreadful nights,' I said, it won't be Miss who spoils your ease. You'd be the same, but she never come. However, she shall not disturb you again, and perhaps you'll get quieter when we leave you.' "'Must I go?' asked Catherine dolefully, bending over him. "'Do you want me to go, Linton?' "'You can't alter what you've done,' he replied, pettishly, shrinking from her. "'Unless you alter it for the worse, by teasing me into a fever.' "'Well, then, I must go,' she repeated. "'Let me alone, at least,' said he. "'I can't bear your talking.' She lingered, and resisted my persuasions to depart her a tiresome while. But as he neither looked up nor spoke, she finally made a movement to the door, and I followed. We were recalled by a scream. Linton had slid from his seat onto the art stone, and lay writhing in the mere perverseness of an indulged plague of a child, determined to be as grievous and harassing as it can. I thoroughly gauged his disposition from his behaviour, and saw at once it would be folly to attempt humouring him. Not so, my companion. She ran back in terror, knelt down and cried, and soothed and entreated till he grew quiet from lack of breath, by no means from compunction at distressing her. "'I shall lift him onto the saddle,' I said, and he may roll about as he pleases. We can't stop to watch him. I hope you are satisfied, Miss Cathy, that you are not the person to benefit him, and that his condition of health is not occasioned by attachment to you. "'Now, then, there he is. Come away! As soon as he knows there is nobody by to care for his nonsense, he'll be glad to lie still.' She placed a cushion under his head, and offered him some water. He rejected the latter, and tossed uneasily on the former, as if it were a stone or a block of wood. She tried to put it more comfortably. "'I can't do with that,' he said. It's not high enough.' Catherine brought another to lay above it. "'That's too high,' murmured the provoking thing. "'How must I arrange it, then?' she asked despairingly. He twined himself up to her, as she half knelt by the saddle, and converted her shoulder into a support. "'No, that won't do,' I said. You'll be content with the cushion, Master E. Cliff. Mrs. Waist had too much time on you already. We cannot remain five minutes longer.' "'Yes, yes, we can,' replied Cathy. He's good and patient now. He's beginning to think I shall have far greater misery than he will tonight, if I believe he is the worst for my visit. And then I dare not come again. Tell the truth about it, Linton, for I mustn't come if I've hurt you.' "'You must come, to cure me,' he answered. "'You ought to come, because you have hurt me. You know you have extremely. I was not as ill when you entered, as I am at present. And was I?' "'But you've made yourself ill by crying and being in a passion. I didn't do it all,' said his cousin. "'However, we'll be friends now, and you want me. You would wish to see me sometimes, really?' "'I told you I did,' he replied impatiently. "'Sit on the saddle, and let me lean on your knee. That's as Mamar used to do, whole afternoons together. Sit quite still and don't talk. But you may sing a song, if you can sing, or you may say a nice long interesting ballad, one of those you promised to teach me, or a story. I'd rather have a ballad, though. Begin.' Catherine repeated the longest she could remember. The enjoyment pleased both mightily. Linton would have another, and after that another, notwithstanding my strenuous objections, and so they went on until the clock struck twelve, and we heard Ayrton in the court returning for his dinner. "'And to-morrow, Catherine? Will you be here to-morrow?' asked the young Eathcliff, holding her frock as she rose reluctantly. "'No,' I answered, nor next day neither. She, however, gave a different response evidently, for his forehead cleared as she stooped and whispered in his ear. "'You won't go to-morrow, recollect, Miss,' I commenced, when we were out of the house. "'You're not dreaming of it, are you?' she smiled. "'Oh, I'll take good care,' I continued. I'll have that lock mended, and you can escape by no way else.' "'I can get over the wall,' she said, laughing. The Granger's not a prison, Ellen, and you are not my jailer. And besides, I'm almost seventeen. I'm a woman, and I'm certain Linton would recover quickly if he had me to look after him. I'm older than he, as you know, and wiser. Less childish am I not, and he'll soon do as I direct him with some slight coaxing. He's a pretty little darling when he's good. I'd make such a pet of him if he were mine. We should never quarrel, should we, after we were used to each other. Don't you like him, Ellen?' "'Like him,' I exclaimed. The worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled into its teens. Appley is Mr. E. Cliff-conjected. He'll not win twenty. I doubt whether he'll see spring indeed, and small loss to his family whenever he drops off. And lucky it is that his father took him. The kinder he was treated, the more tedious and selfish he'd be. I'm glad you have no chance of having him for Osborne, Miss Catherine.' My companion waxed serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his death so regardlessly wounded her feelings. "'He's younger than I,' she answered, after a protracted pause of meditation. And he ought to live the longest. He will. He must live as long as I do. He's as strong now as when he first came into the North. I'm positive of that. It's only a cold that ails him, the same as Papa has. You say Papa will get better. And why shouldn't he?' "'Well, well,' I cried. After all, we needn't trouble ourselves. For listen, Miss, and mind, I'll keep my word. If you attempt going to Wuthering Heights again, with or without me, I shall inform Mr. Linton, and unless he allow it, the intimacy with your cousin must not be revived.' "'It has been revived,' muttered Cathy, sulkily. "'Must not be continued, then,' I said. "'We'll see,' was her reply, and she set off at a gallop, leaving me to toil in the rear. We both reached home before our dinner-time. My master supposed we had been wandering through the park, and therefore he demanded no explanation of our absence. As soon as I entered I aced in to change my soaked shoes and stockings, but sitting such a while at the heights had done the mischief. On the succeeding morning I was laid up, and during three weeks I remained incapacitated for attending to my duties. A calamity never experienced prior to that period, and never, I am thankful to say, since. My little mistress behaved like an angel in coming to wait on me, and cheer up my solitude. The confinement brought me exceedingly low. It is wearisome to a stirring active body, but few have slighter reasons for complaint than I had. The moment Catherine left Mr. Linton's room, she appeared at my bedside. Her day was divided between us. No amusement you served a minute. She neglected her meals, her studies, and her play, and she was the fondest nurse that ever watched. She must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so, to give so much to me. I said her days were divided between us, but the master retired early, and I generally needed nothing after six o'clock, thus the evening was her own. Poor thing. I never considered what she did with herself after tea, and though frequently, when she looked in to bid me good night, I remarked a fresh colour in her cheeks, and a pinkness over her slender fingers. Instead of fancying the line borrowed from a cold ride across the mowers, I laid it to the charge of an odd fire in the library. End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 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 Maya Tafidis Weathering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 24 At the close of three weeks, I was able to quit my chamber and move about the house. And on the first occasion of my city gop in the evening, I asked Catherine to read to me, because my eyes were weak. We were in the library, the master having gone to bed. She consented, rather unwillingly, I fancied, and imagining my sort of books did not suit her, I beheld her please herself in the choice of what she perused. She selected one of her own favourites, and got forward steadily about an hour. Then came frequent questions. I'm not too tired, how don't you be lie down now? You'll be sick, keeping up so long, Ellen. No, no dear, I'm not tired. I return continually. With sitting me immovable, she essayed another method of showing her diswellish for her occupation. It changed to yawning and stretching, and Ellen, I'm tired. Give over then, and talk, I answered. That was worse. She threaded inside and looked at her watch till eight, and finally went to her room completely overdone with sleep. Judging by her peevish, heavy look, the constant rubbing she inflicted on her eyes. The following night she seemed more impatient still. And on the third from recovering my company, she complained of a headache, and left me. I thought her conduct odd. And having remained alone long while, I resolved on going and inquiring whether she were better, and asking her to come and lie on the sofa, instead of upstairs in the dark. No Catherine could have discovered upstairs, and none below. The servants affirmed they had not seen her. I listened at Mr. Edgar's door, or her silence. I returned to her apartment, extinguished my candle, and seated myself in the window. The moon shone bright, a sprinkling of snow cover the ground, and I reflected that she might, possibly, have taken it into her head to walk about the garden for refreshment. I did detect a figure creeping along the inner fence of the park, but it was not my young mistress. On its emerging into the light, I recognized one of the grooms. He stood a considerable period, fueling the carriage road through the grounds. Then started off at a brief space, as if he had detected something, and reappeared presently, leaning Mrs. Pony. And there she was, just dismounted, and walking by its side. The man took his charge and stealthily, across the grass towards this table. Catherine entered by the casement window with a drawing room, and glided noticeably up to where I waited her. She pulled the door gently too, slipped off her snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding, unconscious on my espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I suddenly rose and revealed myself. The surprise petrified her an instant. She uttered an articulate exclamation, and stood fixed. My dear Miss Catherine, I began, too vividly impressed by her recent kindness to break into its cold. Where have you been riding out at this hour, and why should you try to deceive me by telling a tale? Where have you been, speak? Bottom of the park, she stammered. I didn't tell a tale. And nowhere else, I demanded. No, where's the method reply? Oh, Catherine, I cried sorrowfully. You know you've been doing wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me. That does grieve me. I'd rather be three months ill than hear your frame a deliberate lie. She sprang forward, and bursting into tears through her arms on my neck. Well, Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry, she said. Promise not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth. I hate to hide it. We sat down in the window seat. I shoot her, I would not scold, whatever her secret might be. And I guessed it, of course. So she commenced. I've been to weathering heights, Ellen, and I've never missed going a day since you fell ill. Except thrice before and twice after you left your room. I gave Michael books and pictures to prepare me every evening, and to put her back in the stable. You mustn't scold him, I had in mind. I was at the heights by half past six, and generally stayed till half past eight, and then galloped home. It was not to amuse myself that I went. I was often wretched all the time. Now and then I was happy. Once in a week, perhaps. At first, I expected there would be sad work persuading you to let me keep my word to Linton, for I had engaged to Colgan next day when we quitted him. But as you stayed upstairs on the morrow, I escaped the trouble. While Michael was refattening the lock of the park door in the afternoon, I got possession of the key, and told him now how my cousin wished me to visit him, because he was sick and couldn't come to the range, and how Papa would object to my going, and then negotiated with him about the pony. He's fond of reading, and he thinks of leaving soon to get married, so he offered, if I would let him books out of the library, to do what I wished. But I preferred giving him my own, and that satisfied him better. On my second visit Linton seemed in lively spirits, and Zilla, that is their housekeeper, made us a clean room and a good fire, and told us that as Joseph was out at a prayer meeting, and had an urn show with his dogs, rubbing our woods of pheasants as I hurled afterwards, we might do what we liked. She brought me some warm wine and gingerbread, and appeared exceedingly good-natured, and Linton sat in the armchair, and I, in the little rocking chair of the household, and we laughed and talked so merrily, and found so much to say. We planned where we would go, and what we would do in summer, and didn't repeat that because we'd call it silly. One time, however, we were near quarrelling. He said the pleasantest manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bank of heath in the middle of the malls, with the bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness. Man was rocking in a rustling green tree, with a west-wing blowing, and bright white clouds flitting rapidly above, and not only larks, but throttles and blackbirds, and linets and cuckoos pouring out music on every side, and the malls seeing at a distance, broken into cool busky dels, but close by great swells of long grass, undulating in waves to the breeze, and moods in sounding water, the whole world awake and wild with dark. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace. I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive, and he said mine would be drunk. I said I should fall asleep in his, and he said he could not breathe in mine, and began to grove every snap-ish. At last, we agreed to try both, as soon as the right weather came, and then kissed each other and were friends. After sitting still an hour, I looked at the great room with its smooth, uncovered floor, and thought how nice it would be to play in if we moved the table. And I asked Linton to call Zilla in to help us, and we'd have a gay man blind man's bath. She should try to catch us. You used to, you know, Alan. He wouldn't. There was no pleasure in it, he said. But he consented to play a ball with me. We found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops and hoops, and butt of doughs and shuttle cocks. One was marked C, and the other H. I wished you had the C, because that stood for Catherine, and the H might be for Heathcliff, his name. But the brown came out of H, and Linton didn't like it. I beat him constantly, and he got cross again and coughed, and returned to his chair. That night, though, he easily recovered his good humour. He was charmed with two or three pretty songs. A huge song, Alan. And when it was obliged to go, he begged and intrigued me to come the following evening, and I promised. Minnie and I went flying home as light as air, and I dreamt of weathering heights and my sweet darling cousin till morning. On the morrow, I was sad, partly because you were poorly, and partly that I wished my father knew, and approved of my excursions. But it was beautiful moonlight after tea, and as I rode on, the gloom cleared. I shall have another happy evening. I thought to myself, and would delight me more, my pretty Linton well. I trotted up the garden, and was turning round to the back, when that fellow urn show met me, took my bridle, and beat me going by the front entrance. He patted me in his neck, and said she was a bunny beast, and appeared as if he wanted me to speak to him. I only told him to leave my horse alone, or else it would kick him. He answered in his vulgar accent, ruling doom each hurly bit did, and served its slaves with a smile. I was half inclined to make it try. However, he moved off to open the door, and as he raised the latch, he looked up to the inscription above, and said, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and elation, Miss Catherine, I can read y'all now. Wonderful, I exclaimed, pray let us hear you, you are grown clever. He spelled and drawled over by syllables the name Hurtle Urn Show, and the figures, I cried incoherently, perceiving that he came to a dead hold. I cannot tell them yet, he answered. Oh, you don't, I said, laughing heartily at his failure. The fools teared, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes, as if uncertain whether he might not join in my mirth, whether it were not pleasant familiarity, or what it really was, contempt. I settled his doubts by suddenly retrieving my gravity and desiring him to walk away, for I came to see Linton, not him. He reddened, I saw that by the moonlight, dropped his hand from the latch, and scurred off, a picture of mortified vanity. He imagined himself to be as accomplished as Linton, I suppose, because he could spell his own name, and was marvelously discomfited that I didn't think the same. Stop, Miss Catherine, dear, I interrupted. I shall not scold, but I do like your connet there. If you had remembered that Hurtle was your cousin as much as Master Heathcliff, you would have felt how improper it was to behave in that way. At least, it was praiseworthy ambition for him to desire to be as accomplished as Linton, and probably he did not learn merely to show off. You had made him ashamed of his ignorance before, I have no doubt, and he wished to remedy it and please you. To sneer at his imperfect attempt was very bad breeding. Had you been brought up in his circumstances, would you be less rude? He was as quick and as intelligent a child as ever you were. And Hurtle, that he should be despised now, because the base Heathcliff has treated him so unjustly. Well, Ellen, you won't cry about it will you? She exclaimed so prized at my earnestness. But wait, and you shall hear if your colleague's ABC'd please me, and if it were worthwhile being civil to the brute. I entered, Linton was lying on the settle, and Hurtle got up to welcome me. I'm ill tonight, Catherine Love, he said, and you must have all the talk and let me listen. Come and sit by me. I was sure you wouldn't break your word, and I'll make you promise again before you go. I knew now that I mustn't tease him as he was ill, and I spoke softly and put no questions, and avoided irritating him in any way. I had brought some of my nicest books for him. He asked me to read a little of one, and I was about to comply, when Aunt Show burst the door open, having gathered venom with reflection. He advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm, and swung him on the seat. Get to the old room, he said in a voice almost inarticulate with passion, and his face looked swell and furious. Take her there, she comes to see thee. Thou shalt keep me out of this, be gone with you both. He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer, nearly throwing him into the kitchen, and he clashed his fist as I followed, seemingly longing to knock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall. He gave it after me, and shut us out. I heard a maligned crackly laugh by the fire, and turning beheld at all this Joseph, standing rubbing his body-hand and quivering. Why were sure he'd serve ye out, he's a good around lad, he's getting right spirited him. He knows how, he knows as little as I do, who's so big master yonder. He made his scuff properly. Where must we go? asked my cousin, disregarding the old wretched mockery. Linton was white and trembling. He was not pretty then, Ellen. Oh, no, he looked frightful. Oh, his thin face and large eyes were rotting through an expression of frenzy, powerless, fury. He grasped and handed on the door, and shook it. It was fastened inside. If you don't let me in, I'll kill you! If you don't let me in, I'll kill you! He rather shrieked than said. Devil did do with it after his croaking laugh again. There, that's father, he cried. That's father, with all his somato oil inside in us. Never he there to none, don't be feared, he cannot get at thee. I took hold of Linton's hands, and tried to pull him away, but his shriek so shockingly that I dared not proceed. Alas, his cries were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing. Blood gushed from his mouth, and he fennel the ground. I ran into the yard, sick with terror, and called for Zilla as loud as I could. She soon heard me. She was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn, and hurrying from her work, she inquired what there was to do. I had an breath to explain. Drugging her in, I looked about for Linton. Earnshaw had come out to examine the mischief had caused, and he was then conveying the poor thing upstairs. Zilla and I ascended after him, but he stuffed me at the top of the steps, and said I shouldn't go in. I must go home. I exclaimed that he had killed Linton, and I would enter. Joseph locked the door, and declared I should do no such stuff, and asked me whether I were bound to be as mad as him. I stood crying to the housekeeper who appeared. She affirmed he would be better in a bit, but he couldn't do that tricking and din, and she took me and nearly carried me into the house. Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head. I sobbed and wept so that my eyes were almost blind, and the ruffian you have such sympathy with stood opposite, presuming every now and then to beat me wished, and denying that it was his fault. And finally he frightened my assertions that I would tell Papa, and that he should be put in prison and hanged. He commenced blubbering himself, and hurried out to hide his cowardly agitation. Still I was not rid of him. When at length they compelled me to depart, and I had got some hot jars of the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow at the roadside, and checked me in and took hold of me. Miss Catherine Amill grieved him again, but it strayed too bad. I gave him a gut with my whip, thinking perhaps he would murder me. He let go, thundering one of his hard curses, and I galloped home more than half out of my senses. I didn't bid you good night that evening, and I didn't go to Wuthering Heights the next. I wished to go exceedingly, but I was strangely excited, and tried to hear that Newton was dead, sometimes. And sometimes shadowed at the thought of encountering Hilton. On the day I took coverage, at least I couldn't bear longer suspends, and still often small. I went at five o'clock and walked. Fencing I might manage to creep into the house, and up to Linton's room unobserved. However, the dogs gave notice of my approach. Zehla received me, and, saying the land was bending nicely, showed me into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to my inexpressible joy, I beheld Linton lay down a little sofa, reading one of my books. But he would neither speak to me, nor look at me. Through a whole hour, Ellen, he had set an unhappy temper, and what quite confounded me, when he did open his mouth, it was to utter the falsehood that I had occasionally uproar, and the heathen was not to blame. Unable to reply, except passionately, I got up and walked from the room. He sent after me a friend Catherine. He didn't reckon on being answered so. But I wouldn't turn back, and the morrow was the second day in which I stayed at home, nearly determined to visit him no more. But it was so miserable going to bed and getting up, and never hearing anything about him, that my resolution melted into air before it was properly formed. It had appeared wrong to take the journey once. Now it seemed wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask if he must settle me, I said yes, and considered myself doing a duty as she bore me over the hills. I was forced to pass the front windows to get to the court, to have no use trying to conceal my presence. Young master is in the house, said Zilla, as she saw me making for the parlor. I went in. Earnshaw was there also, but he quitted the room directly. Linton sat in the great armchair half-sleep, walking up to the fire. I began in a serious tone, partly meaning it to be true. As you don't like me, Linton, and as you think I come on purpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is our last meeting. Let us say goodbye, and tell Mr. Heathcliff that you have no wish to say, that he mustn't invent any more falsehoods on the subject. Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine, he answered. You are so much happier than I am, you ought to be better. Papa talks enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me to make it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt whether I am not altogether as worthless as he calls me frequently. And then I feel so cross and bitter, I hate everybody. I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit almost always. And if you choose, you may say goodbye. You'll get rid of annoyance. Only, Catherine, do me this justice. Believe that if I might be as sweet and as kind and as good as you are, I would be. As willingly and more so than as happy and as healthy. And believe that your kindness has made me love you deeper than if I deserved your love. And though I couldn't and cannot help showing my nature to you, I regret it and repent it, and shall regret and repent until I die. I felt he spoke the truth, and I felt I must forgive him, and though we should quarrel the next moment, I must forgive him again. We were reconciled, but we cried both of us the whole time astaid. Not entirely for sorrow, yet I was sorry Linton had that his tort in nature. He'll never let his friends be at ease, and he'll never be at ease himself. I have always gone his little parlor since that night, because his father returned the day after. About three times I think we have been married hopeful, as we were the first evening. The rest of my visits were dreary and troubled. Now with his selfishness and spite, and now with his sufferings. But I've learned to endure the former with nearly as little resentment as the latter. Mr. Hiscliffe purposely avoids me. I have hardly seen him at all. Last Sunday indeed, coming earlier than usual, I heard him abusing Paul Linton cruelly for his counterattack the night before. I can't tell how he knew of it, unless he listened. Linton had suddenly behaved provokingly. However, it was the business of nobody but me, and I interrupted Mr. Hiscliffe's lecture by entering and telling him so. He burst into laugh and went away, saying he was glad I took that view of the matter. Since then, I've told Linton he must whisper his bitter things. Now, Ellen, you have heard all. I can't be prevented from going to Wuthering Heights, except by inflicting misery on two people. Whereas, if you'll only not tell Papa, my going may disturb the tranquility of none. You'll not tell, will you? It will be very heartless if you do. I'll make up my mind on that point by tomorrow, means Catherine, I replied. It requires some study, and so I'll leave you to your rest and go think it over. I thought it over aloud in my master's presence, walking straight from her room to his and relating the whole story, with the exception of her conversations with her cousin, and any mention of Herton. Mr. Linton was alarmed and distressed, more than he would acknowledge to me. In the morning Catherine learned my betrayal of her confidence, and she learned also that her secret visits were to end. In vain she wept in riot against the interdict, and he brought her father to a pite on Linton. All she got to comfort her was a promise that he would write and give him leave to come to the graves when he pleased, but explaining that he must no longer expect to see Catherine at Wuthering Heights. Perhaps, had he been aware of his nephew's disposition and state of health, he would have seen fit to withhold even that slight consolation. End of Chapter 24. Chapter 25 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. Recording by Kevin McNeill Wuthering Heights Chapter 25 These things happened last winter, sir, said Mrs. Dean. Hardly more than a year ago. Last winter I did not think, at another twelve months' end, I should be amusing a stranger to the family with relating them. Yet who knows how long you'll be a stranger. You're too young to rest always contented, living by yourself, and I some way fancy no one could see Catherine Linton and not love her. You smile. But why do you look so lively and interested when I talk about her? And why have you asked me to hang her picture over your fireplace? And why? Stop, my good friend, I cried. It may be very possible that I should love her. But would she love me? I doubted too much to venture my tranquility by running into temptation. And then my home is not here. I'm of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. Go on, was Catherine a being into her father's commands? She was, continued the housekeeper. Her affection for him was still the chief sentiment in her heart. And he spoke without anger. He spoke in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils and foes, where his remembered words would be the only aid that he could be queued to guide her. He said to me a few days afterwards, I wish my nephew would write to Alan, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what do you think of him? Is he changed for the better? Or is there a prospect of improvement as he grows a man? He is very delicate, sir, I replied, and is scarcely likely to reach manhood. But this I can say, he does not resemble his father. And if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him, he would not be beyond her control, unless she were extremely and foolishly indulgent. However, master, he'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with him, and see whether he would suit her. It wants four years and more to his being of age. Edgar sighed, and walking to the window, looked out towards Gimmerton Kirk. It was a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly, and we could just distinguish the two fir trees in the ad, and the sparely scattered gravestones. I prayed often, he half soliloquized, for the approach of what is coming, and now I begin to shrink and fear it. I thought the memory of the hour I came down that glen, a bridegroom, would be less sweet than the anticipation that I was soon, in a few months or possibly weeks, to be carried up and laid in its lonely hollow. Ellen, I've been very happy with my little Kathy. Through winter nights and summer days she was a living hope at my side, but I've been as happy musing by myself among those stones under that old church, lying through the long June evenings on the green mound of her mother's grave, and wishing, yearning, for the time when I might lie beneath it. What can I do for Kathy? How must I quitter? I'd not care one moment for Linton being Heathcliff's son, nor for his taking her from me, if he could only console her for my loss. I'd not care that Heathcliff gained his ends and triumphed in robbing me of my last blessing. But should Linton be unworthy? Only a feeble tool to his father I cannot abandon her to him. And, how though it may be to crush her buoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her sad while I live, and leaving her solitary when I die. Darling, I'd rather resign her to God, and lay her in the earth before me. Resign her to God as it is, sir, I answered. And if we should lose you, which may he forbid under his providence, I'll stand her friend and counsellor to the last. Miss Catherine is a good girl. I don't fear that she will go willfully wrong, and people who do their duty are always finally rewarded. Spring advanced, yet my master gathered no real strength, though he resumed his walks in the grounds with his daughter. To her inexperienced notions this itself was a sign of convalescence. And then his cheek was often flushed, and his eyes were bright. She felt sure of his recovering. On her seventeenth birthday he did not visit the churchyard. It was raining, and I observed, you'll surely not go out tonight, sir. He answered, No, I'll defer it this year a little longer. He wrote again to Linton, expressing his great desire to see him. And had the invalid been presentable, I've no doubt his father would have permitted him to come. As it was, being instructed, he returned an answer, intimating that Mr Heathcliff objected his calling at the Grange. But his uncle's kind remembrance delighted him, and he hoped to meet him sometimes in his rambles, and personally to petition that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly divided. That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own. Heathcliff knew he could plead eloquently for Catherine's company then. I do not ask, he said, that she may visit here. But am I never to see her, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you forbid her to come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards the heights, and let's exchange a few words in your presence. We have done nothing to deserve this separation, and you are not angry with me. You have no reason to dislike me. You allow yourself. Dear uncle, send me a kind note tomorrow, and leave to join you any way you please, except at Threshcross Grange. I believe an interview would convince you that my father's character is not mine. He affirms I am more your nephew than his son, and though I have faults which render me unworthy of Catherine, she has excused them, and for her sake you should also. You inquire after my health, it is better, but while I remain cut off from all hope, and doomed to solitude, or the society of those who never did and never will like me, how can I be cheerful and well? Edgar, though he felt for the boy, could not consent to grant his request, because he could not accompany Catherine. He said in summer perhaps they might meet. Meantime he wished him to continue riding at intervals, and engaged to give him what advice and comfort he was able by letter, being well aware of his hard position in his family. Linton complied, and had he been unrestrained would probably have spoiled all by filling his epistles with complaints and lamentations. But his father kept a sharp watch over him, and, of course, insisted on every line that my master sent being shown. So, instead of penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses, the themes constantly uppermost in his thoughts, he harped on the cruel obligation of being held asunder from his friend and love, and gently intimated that Mr. Linton must allow an interview soon. Or he should fear he was purposely deceiving him with empty promises. Cathy was a powerful ally at home, and between them they at length persuaded my master to acquiesce in there having a ride or a walk, together, about once a week under my guardianship, and on the moors nearest the Grange, for June found him still declining. Though he had set aside nearly a portion of his income from my young lady's fortune, he had a natural desire that she might retain, or at least return in a short time to, the house of her ancestors, and he considered her only prospect of doing that was by a union with his heir. He had no idea that the latter was failing almost as fast as himself, nor had anyone, I believe. No doctor visited the heights, and no one saw Master Heathlift to make report of his condition among us. I, for my part, began to fancy my forebodings were false, and that he must be actually rallying when he mentioned riding and walking on the moors, and seemed so earnest in pursuing his object. I could not picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and wickedly as I afterwards learned Heathlift had treated him to compel this apparent eagerness. His efforts redoubling the more eminently his avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat by death. Kevin McNeill Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 26 Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join her cousin. It was a close, sultry day, devoid of sunshine, but with the sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain, and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide stone by the crossroads. On arriving there, however, a little herd boy dispatched as a messenger told us that Master Lenton were just on this side of the Heights, and had been much obliged just to gang on a bit further. Then Master Lenton has forgotten the first injunction of his uncle, I observed. He bid us keep on the grange land, and here we are off at once. Well, we'll turn our horses' heads round when we reach him, answered my companion. Our excursion should lie towards home, but when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter a mile from his own door, we found he had no horse, and we were forced to dismount and leave ours to graze. He lay on the heath awaiting our approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then he walked so fearfully and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed, Why, Master Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble this morning. How ill you do look! Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment. She changed the ejaculation of joy on her lips to one of alarm, and the congratulation of their long, postponed meeting to an anxious inquiry whether he were worse than usual. No, better, better, he panted, trembling, and retained in her hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered timidly over her. The hollowness round them, transforming to haggard wildness, the languid expression they once possessed. But you have been worse, persisted his cousin, worse than when I saw you last. You are thinner, and I am tired, he interrupted hurriedly. It is too hot for walking, let us rest here. And in the morning I often feel sick, but per se as I grow so fast. Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her, this is something like your paradise, said she, making an effort at cheerfulness. You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the place, and weigh each thought pleasantest. This is nearly yours, only there are clouds, but then they are so soft and mellow. It is nicer than sunshine. Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the Grange Park and try mine. Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of, and he had evidently great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack of interest in the subject she started, and his equal incapacity to contribute to her entertainment, was so obvious that she could not conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come over his whole person and manner. The pethishness that might be caressed in defundness had yielded to a listless apathy. There was less of the peevish temper of a child which frets and teases on purpose to be soothed, and more of the self-absorbed morose-ness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the good-humoured mirth of others as an insult. Catherine perceived, as well as I did, that he held it rather a punishment than a gratification, to endure her company, and she made no scruple of proposing presently to depart. That proposal unexpectedly roused Linton from his lethargy, and threw him into a strange state of agitation. He glanced fearfully towards the heights, begging she would remain another half-hour at least. But I think, said Catherine, you'd be more comfortable at home than sitting here, and I cannot amuse you today. I see, by my tales and songs and chatters, you have grown wiser than I in these six months. You have little taste for my diversions now, or else, if I could amuse you, I'd willingly stay. Stay to rest yourself, he replied. And Catherine, don't think or say that I am very unwell. It is the heavy weather and heat that make me dull. And I walked about before you came a great deal for me. Tell Uncle I'm intolerable health, will you? I'll tell him that you say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you are, observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious assertion of what was evident and truth. And be here again next Thursday, continued he, shunning her puzzled gaze, and give him my thanks for permitting you to come, my best thanks, Catherine. And, if you did meet my father, and he asked you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been extremely silent and stupid. Don't look sad and downcast as you are doing, he'll be angry. I care nothing for his anger, exclaimed Cathy, imagining she would be its object. But I do, said her cousin, shuddering. Don't provoke him against me, Catherine, for he is very hard. Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff, I inquired? Has he grown weary of indulgence and passed from passive to active hatred? Linton looked at me, but did not answer. And, after keeping her seat by his side another ten minutes, during which his head fell drowsily on his breast, and yet had nothing except suppressed moans of exhaustion or pain. Cathy began to seek solace in looking for bilberries, and sharing the produce of her researches with me. She did not offer them to him, for she saw further notice with only weary and annoy. Is it half an hour now, Ellen? she whispered in my ear at last. I can't tell why we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be wanting us back. Well, we must not leave him asleep, I answered. Wait till he wakes and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your longing to see poor Linton has soon evaporated. Why did he wish to see me, returned Catherine? In his cross-assumers, formally, I liked him better than I do in his present curious mood. It's just as if it were a task he was compelled to perform this interview, for fear his father should scold him. But I'm hardly going to come to give Mr. Heathcliff pleasure, whatever reason he may have for ordering Linton to undergo this penance. And though I'm glad he's better in health, I'm sorry he's so much less pleasant, and so much less affectionate to me. You think he is better in health, then? I said. Yes, he answered. Because he always made such a great deal of his sufferings, you know. He's not tolerably well, as he told me to tell papa, but he's better, very likely. Then you differ from me, Miss Cathy, I remarked. I should conjecture him to be far worse. Linton here started from his slumber and bewildered me. And asked if anyone had called his name. No, said Catherine, unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how you managed to doze out of doors in the morning. I thought I heard my father, he gasped, glancing up to the frowning nab above us. You are sure nobody spoke? Quite sure, replied his cousin. Only Ellen and I were disputing concerning your health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when we separated in winter? If you be, I'm certain one thing is not stronger. You're regarded for me. Speak, are you? The tears gushed from Linton's eyes as he answered. Yes, yes, I am. And still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze gushed. and still under the spell of the imaginary voice his gaze wandered up and down to detect its owner. Kathy rose. For today we must part, she said, and I won't conceal that I have been sadly disappointed without meeting. Though I'll mention it to nobody but you, not that I stand in awe of Mr Heathcliff. Hush, Mehmed Linton. For God's sake Hush, he's coming. And he glung to Catherine's arm, striving to detain her. But at that announcement she hastedly disengaged herself and whistled to Minnie who obeyed her like a dog. I'll be here next Thursday, she cried, springing to the saddle. Goodbye, quick, Ellen. And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure. So absorbed was he in anticipating his father's approach. Before we reached home Catherine's displeasure softened into a perplexed sensation of pity and regret. Largely blended with vague uneasy doubts about Linton's actual circumstances, physical and social, in which I partook though I counseled her not to say much. For a second journey would make us better judges. My master requested an account of our ongoings. His nephew's offering of thanks was Julie delivered, Miss Cathy gently touching on the rest. I also threw little light on his inquiries, for I hardly knew what to hide and what to reveal. End of Chapter 26. Read by Kevin McNeill.