 CHAPTER XVI. About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at Wuthering Heights, a puny, seven-months child and two hours after the mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to miss Heathcliff or no Edgar. The latter's distraction at his bereavement is a subject too painful to be dwelt on. Its after-effects showed how deep the sorrow sunk. A great addition in my eyes was his being left without an heir. I bemoaned that as I gazed on the feeble orphan and I mentally abused old Linton for what was only natural partiality, the securing his estate to his own daughter instead of his sons. An unwelcomed infant it was, poor thing. It might have wailed out of life and nobody cared a morsel during those first hours of existence. We redeemed the neglect afterwards, but its beginning was as friendless as its end is likely to be. Next morning, bright and cheerful out of doors, stole softened in through the blinds of the silent room and suffused the couch and its occupant with a mellow, tender glow. Edgar Linton had his head laid on the pillow and his eyes shut. His young and fair features were almost as deathlike as those of the form beside him and almost as fixed, but his was the hush of exhausted anguish and hers of perfect peace. Her brow smooth, her lids closed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile. No angel in heaven could be more beautiful than she appeared. When I partook of the infinite calm in which she lay, my mind was never in a holier frame than while I gazed on that untroubled image of divine rest. I instinctively echoed the words she had uttered a few hours before. Incomparably beyond and above us all, whether still on earth or now in heaven, her spirit is at home with God. I don't know if it be a peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise than happy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzy or despairing mourner share the duty with me. I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter, the eternity they have entered, where life is boundless in its duration and love in its sympathy and joy in its fullness. I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even in a love like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed release. To be sure, one might have doubted after the wayward and impatient existence she had led, whether she merited a haven of peace at last. One might doubt in seasons of cold reflection, but not then, and the presence of her corpse. It asserted its own tranquility, which seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its former inhabitant. Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I give a great deal to know. I declined answering Mrs. Dean's question, which struck me as something heterodox. She proceeded. Tracing the course of Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to think she is, but will leave her with her maker. The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the room and steal out to the pure, refreshing air. The servants thought me gone to shake off the drowsiness of my protracted watch. In reality, my chief motive was seeing Mr. Heathcliff. If he had remained among the larches all night, he would have heard nothing of the stir at the Grange, unless perhaps he might catch the gallop of the messenger going to Gemberton. If he had come nearer, he would probably be aware from the light splitting to and fro and the opening and shutting of the outer doors that all was not right within. I wished, yet feared, to find him. I felt the terrible news must be told. I longed to get it over, but how to do it I did not know. He was there, at least a few yards further in the park. Linked against an old ash tree, his hat off and his hair soaked with the dew that had gathered on the budded branches and fell pattering around him. He had been standing a long time in that position, for I saw a pair of oozles passing and repassing scarcely three feet from him, busy in building their nest and regarding his proximity no more than that of a piece of timber. They flew off at my approach, and he raised his eyes and spoke. She's dead, he said. I've not waited for you to learn that. Put your handkerchief away. Don't snivel before me. Damn you all. She wants none of your tears. I was weeping as much for him as her. We do sometimes pity creatures that have none of the feeling either for themselves or others. When I first looked into his face, I perceived that he had got intelligence of the catastrophe, and a foolish notion struck me that his heart was quelled and he prayed because his lips moved and his gaze was bent on the ground. Yes, she's dead, I answered, checking my sobs and drawing my cheeks. Gone to heaven, I hope, where we may everyone join her if we take due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good. Did she take due warning then, asked Heathcliff, attempting a sneer? Did she die like a saint? Come give me a true history of the event. How did he endeavor to pronounce the name, but could not manage it? In compressing his mouth, he held a silent combat with his inward agony, defying, meanwhile, my sympathy with an unflinching ferocious stare. How did she die, he resumed at last, feigned not with standing his hardy-hood to have a support behind him, for after the struggle he trembled in spite of himself to his very finger ends. Poor wretch, I thought, you have a heart and nerves the same as your brother men. Why should you be anxious to conceal them? Your pride cannot blind God. You tempt him to ring them till he forces a cry of humiliation. Quietly as a lamb, I answered aloud. She drew a sigh and stretched herself like a child reviving and sinking again to sleep, and five minutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart and nothing more. And did she ever mention me? He asked, hesitating, as if he dreaded the answer to his question when introduced to tales, and he could not bear to hear. Her senses never returned. She recognized nobody from the time you left her, I said. She lies with a sweet smile on her face, and her latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle dream. May she wake as kindly in the other world. May she wake in torment, he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. Why, she's a liar to the end. Where is she? Not there, not in heaven, not perished. Where? Oh, you said you cared nothing for my sufferings. And I pray one prayer. I repeat it till my tongue stiffens. Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you. Haunt me, then. Haunt their murder do, haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always. Take any form. Drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you. Oh, God, it is unutterable. I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul. He dashed his head against the knotted trunk and, lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and spears. I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained. Probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night. It hardly moved my compassion. It appalled me. Still, I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command from you to go, and I obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console. Mrs. Linton's funeral was appointed to take place on the Friday following her deceased. Until then, her coffin remained uncovered and strewn with flowers and scented leaves in the great drawing room. Linton spent his days and nights there, a sleepless guardian. And the circumstance concealed from all but me. Heathcliff spent his nights, at least outside, equally a stranger to repose. I held no communication with him. Still, I was conscious of his design to enter if he could. And on the Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master from sheer fatigue had been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and opened one of the windows, moved by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on the faded image of his idol one final adieu. He did not omit to avail himself of the opportunity cautiously and briefly, too cautiously to portray his presence by the slightest noise. Indeed, I shouldn't have discovered that he had been there except for the disarrangement of the drapery about the corpse's face and for observing on the floor a curl of light hair, fastened with a silver thread, which on examination I ascertained to have been taken from a locket hung around Catherine's neck. Heathcliff had opened the trinket and cast out its contents, replacing them by a black lock of his own. I twisted the two and enclosed them together. Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to attend the remains of his sister to the grave. He sent no excuse, but he never came, so that besides her husband, the mourners were wholly composed of tenants and servants. Isabella was not asked. The place of Catherine's interment to the surprise of the villagers was neither in the chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her own relations outside. It was dug on a green slope in a corner of the Kirkyard, where the wall is so low that Heath and Bilberry plants have climbed over it from the moor, and Pete Mould almost buries it. Her husband lies in the same spot now, and they have each a simple headstone above and a plain gray block at their feet to mark the graves. End of chapter 16, recording by Leanne Howlett. Chapter 17 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, reading by Jeff Calkill. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Chapter 17. That's Friday made the last of our fine days for a month. In the evening the weather broke, the wind shifted from south to northeast and brought rain first, and then sleet and snow. On the morrow one could hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer. The prim roses and crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts, the larks were silent, the young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened, and dreary and chill and dismal that morrow did creep over. My master kept his room. I took possession of the lonely parlor converting it into a nursery. And there I was, sitting with the moaning doll of a child laid on my knee, rocking it to and fro and watching, meanwhile, the still driving flakes build up the uncurtained window. When the door opened and some person entered out of breath and laughing, my anger was greater than my astonishment for a minute. I supposed at one of the maids and I cried, have done, how dare you show your giddiness here? What would Mr. Litton say if he heard you? Excuse me, answered a familiar voice, but I know Edgar is in bed and I cannot stop myself. With that the speaker came toward the fire, panting and holding her hand to her side. I've run the whole way from Wuthering Heights, she continued after a pause, except where I've flown. I couldn't count the number of falls I've had, oh, I'm aching all over, but don't be alarmed. There shall be an explanation as soon as I can give it, only just have the goodness to step out and roll over the carriage to take me onto Gimerton and tell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe. The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff. She certainly seemed in no laughing predicament. Her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and water. She was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting her age more than her position. A low frock with short sleeves and nothing on either head or neck. The frock was of light silk and clung to her with wet and her feet were protected merely by thin slippers. Add to this a deep cut under one ear, which only the cold prevented from bleeding profusely. A white face scratched and bruised and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue. And you may fancy my first fright was not much elade when I had had leisure to examine her. My dear young lady, I exclaimed, I'll stir nowhere and hear nothing till you've removed every article of your clothes and put on dry things. And certainly she'll not go to Gimerton tonight so it's needless to order the carriage. Certainly I shall, she said, walking a riding. Yet I have no objection to dress myself decently. And, ah, see how it floats down my neck now. The fire does make it smart. She insisted on my fulfilling her directions before she would let me touch her. And not till after the coachman had been instructed to get ready and a maid set to pack up some necessary attire, did I obtain her consent for binding the wound and helping to change her garments. Now, Ellen, she said when my task was finished and she was seated in an easy chair on the hearth with a cup of tea before her. You sit down opposite me and put poor Catherine's baby away. I don't like to see it. You mustn't think I care little for Catherine because I behave so foolishly on entering. I've cried too bitterly. Yes, more than anyone else has reason to cry. We parted on reconciled, you remember, and I shan't forgive myself. But for all that I was not going to sympathize with him. The brute beast. Oh, give me the poker. This is the last thing of his I have about me. And she slipped the gold ring from her third finger and threw it on the floor. I'll smash it! She continued striking it with childish spite. And then I'll burn it! And she took and dropped the misuse oracle among the coals. There! He shall buy another if he gets me back again. He'd be capable of coming to seek me to tease Edgar. I dare not stay unless that notion should possess his wicked head. And besides Edgar has not been kind, has he? And I won't come suing for his assistance, nor will I bring him into more trouble. Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here. Though, if I not learned he was out of the way, I'd have halted at the kitchen, washed my face, warmed myself, got you to bring what I wanted and departed again to anywhere out of the reach of my accursed servant, Incarnate Garblin. Ah, he was in such a fury if he had caught me. Oh, it's a pity Earnshall's not his match in strength. I wouldn't have run till I'd seen him. Oh, but demolished, had Hinley been able to do it. Well, don't talk so fast, Miss, I interrupted. The old disorder of the haggard shift I tied around your face and make the cut bleed again. Drink your tea and take breath and give over a laughing laughter, sadly, out of place under this roof and in your condition. An undeniable truth, she replied. I listened to that child and maintained a constant wail, sent it out of my hearing for an hour. I shan't stay any longer. I rang the bell and committed it to a servant's care. And then I inquired what had urged her to escape from Wuthering Heights in such an unlikely plight. And where she meant to go, as she refused remaining with us. I ought, and I wished to remain, answered she, to cheer Edgar and take care of the baby for two things, and because the Grange is my right home. But I tell you, he won't let me. Do you think he could bear to see me grow fat and merry? Could bear to think that we were tranquil and not resolve on poisoning our comfort? Now, I have the satisfaction of being sure that he detests me to the point of its annoying him seriously to have me with an earshot or eyesight. I notice when I enter his presence the muscles of his countenance are involuntarily distorted into an expression of hatred, partly arising from his knowledge of the good causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly from original aversion. It is strong enough to make me feel pretty certain that he would not chase me over England supposing I contrived a clear escape. And therefore I must get quite away. I've recovered from my first desire to be killed by him. I'd rather he'd kill himself. He has extinguished my love effectually, so I'm at my ease. I can recollect yet how I loved him, and can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him if. No. No, even if he had doted on me, the devilish nature would have revealed its existence somehow. Catherine had an awfully perverted taste to esteem him, so dearly, knowing him so well. Monster! Would that he could be blotted out of creation and out of my memory. Hush! Hush! He's a human being, I said. Be more charitable there are worse men than he is yet. He's not a human being, she retorted, and he has no claim on my charity. I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I am not power to feel for him. And I would not, though he groaned from this to his dying day and wept tears of blood for Catherine. Though indeed, indeed I wouldn't. And here Isabella began to cry, but immediately dashing the water from her lashes, she recommended. You asked, what has driven me to flight at last? I was compelled to attempt it because I had succeeded in rousing his rage a pitch above his malignity. Pulling out the nerves with red hot pincers requires more coolness than knocking on the head. He was worked up to forget the fiendish prudency it boasted of, and proceeded to murderous violence. I experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him. The sense of pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation so I fairly broke free, and if ever I come into his hands again, he is welcome to his signal revenge. Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. He kept himself sober for the purpose, tolerably sober, not going to bed mad at six o'clock and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently he rose in suicidal low spirits, as fit for the churches for a dance, and instead he sat down by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by the tumbre-fools. Heathcliff, I shudder to name him, has been a stranger in the house from last Sunday till today. Whether the angels have fed him or his kin beneath, I cannot tell, but he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a week. He had just come home at dawn, and gone upstairs to his chamber, looking himself in as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company. There he was continued, praying like a Methodist, only the deity implored his senseless dust and ashes, and God, when addressed, was curiously confounded with his own black father. After concluding these precious orisons, and they lasted generally till he grew horse, and his voice was strangled in his throat, he would be off again, always straight down to the Grange. I wonder Edgar did not sin for a constable and give him into custody. For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was impossible to avoid regarding the season of deliverance from degrading oppression as a holiday. I recovered spirit sufficiently to bear Joseph's eternal lectures without weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot of a frighted thief than formerly. You wouldn't think that I should cry at anything Joseph could say, but he inherits in her detestable companions. I'd rather sit with Henley and hear his awful talk than with the little master and his staunch supporter, that odious old man. When Heathcliff is in, I am often obliged to seek the kitchen and their society or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers. When he's not, as was the case this week, I establish a table and chair at one corner of the house fire, never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself, and he does not interfere with my arrangements. He's quieter now than he used to be. Even though one provokes him. More sullen and depressed and less furious. Joseph affirms he's sure he's an altered man that the Lord has touched his heart, and he is saved so as by fire. I'm puzzled to detect signs of the favourable change, but it's not my business. Yesterday evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late on towards twelve. It seemed so dismal to go upstairs with the wild snow blowing outside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the kirky gardens of the new-made grave. I dare hardly lift my eyes from the page before me that melancholy scene so instantly served its place. Hinley sat opposite, his head lent on his hand, perhaps meditating on the same subject. He had ceased drinking at a point below irrationality, and had neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours. There was no sound through the house but the moaning wind, which shook the windows every now and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and the click of my snuffers as I removed in intervals the long wick of the candle. Heriton and Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed. It was very, very sad, and while I read I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the world, never to be restored. The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen latch. Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual, owing I supposed to the sudden storm. That entrance was fastened and we heard him coming round to get in by the other. I rose with an irrepressible expression of what I felt on my lips which induced my companion, who had been staring towards the door to turn and look at me. I'll keep him out five minutes, he exclaimed. You won't object. No, you may keep him out the whole night for me, I answered. Do put the key in the lock and draw the bolts. Earnshaw accomplished this ere his guest reached the front. He then came and brought his chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, and searching in my eyes for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed from his. As he both looked and felt like an assassin, he couldn't exactly find that, but he discovered enough to encourage him to speak. You and I, he said, have each a great debt to settle with the man out yonder. If we were neither of us cowards, we might combine to discharge it. Are you as soft as your brother? Are you willing to endure till the last and not once attempt a repayment? I'm weary of enduring now, I replied, and I'd be glad of a retaliation that wouldn't recoil on myself. But treachery and violence or spears pointed at both ends, they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies. Treachery and violence are a just return, but treachery and violence, cried Hindley. Mrs. Heathcliff, I'll ask you to do nothing, but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now, can you? I'm sure you would have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion of the fiend's existence. He'll be your death unless you overreach him, and he'll be my ruin. Damn the hellish villain! He knocks at the door as if you were a master here already. Promise to hold your tongue, and before that clock strikes, it wants three minutes of one. You're a free woman. He took the implements which I described you in my letter from his breast, and would have turned down the candle. I snatched it away, however, and seized his arm. I'll not hold my tongue, I said. You mustn't touch him. Glad the door remained shut and be quiet. No! I form my resolution, and by God, I'll execute it! Tried the desperate being. I'll do your kindness in spite of yourself, and hurt injustice, and you needn't trouble your head to screen me. Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regret me, or be ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute, and it's time to make an end. I might as well have struggled with a bearer recent with a lunatic. The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended victim of the fate which awaited him. You'd better seek shelter somewhere else tonight, exclaimed, and rather a triumphant tone. Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you if you persist in endeavoring to enter. You'd better open the door, you. He answered, addressing me with some elegant term that I don't care to repeat. I shall not meddle in the matter, I retorted again. Come in and get shot if you please. I've done my duty. With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire, having too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for the danger that menaced him. Earnshaw swore passionately at me, affirming that I love the villain yet, and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I invinced, and I in my secret heart, and conscience never reproached me, thought what a blessing it would be for him, should Heathcliff put him out of misery, and what a blessing for me should he send Heathcliff to his right abode. As I sat nesting these reflections, the casement behind me was banged onto the floor by a blow from the latter individual, and his countenance looked blightingly through. The stanchion stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled exalting in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp, cannibal teeth revealed by cold and wrath gleamed through the dark. Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you repent. He gurned as Joseph calls it. I cannot commit murder, I replied. Mr. Hinley stands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol. Let me in by the kitchen door, he said. Hinley will be there before me, I answered, and that's a poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow. We were left at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon shone, but the moment a blast of winter returns, you must run for shelter. Heathcliff, if I were you, I'd go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it? You were distinctly impressed on me, the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your life. I can't imagine how you think of surviving her loss. He's here, is he? exclaimed my companion, rushing to the gap. If I can get my arm out, I can hit him. I'm afraid, Ellen, you'll set me down as really wicked, but you don't know all so don't judge. I wouldn't have aided or abetted an attempt on even his life for anything. Wish that he were dead, I must, and therefore I was fearfully disappointed and unnerved by terror for the consequence of my taunting speech, when he flung himself on Earnshaw's weapon and wrenched it from his grasp. The charge exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into its owner's wrist. Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up the flesh as it passed on and thrust it dripping into his pocket. He then took a stone, struck down the division between two windows, and sprang in. His adversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain and the flow of blood that gushed from an artery or a large vein, and the ruffian kicked and trampled on him and dashed his head repeatedly against the flags, holding me with one hand meantime to prevent me summoning Joseph. He exerted pretty human self-denial and abstaining from finishing him completely. But, getting out of breath, he finally desisted and dragged the apparently inanimate body onto the saddle. There he tore off the sleeve of Earnshaw's coat and bound up the wound with brutal roughness. Spitting and cursing during the operation is energetically as he'd kicked before. Being at liberty, I lost no time in seeking the old servant, who, having gathered by degrees the purport of my hasty tale, hurried below, gasping as he descended the steps to it once. What is there at all now? What is there at all now? There's this to know, thundered Heathcliff, that your master's mad, and should he last another month, I'll have him to an asylum. And how the devil did you come to fasten me out, you toothless hound? Don't stand muttering and mumbling there. Come, I'm not going to nurse him. Wash that stuff away, and mine the spoxy a candle. It's more than half brandy. I'll saw it up and murder it on him, exclaimed Joseph, lifting his hands and eyes in horror. If ever I see the sweet light as, my Lord! Heathcliff gave him a pusher onto his knees in the middle of the blood, and flung a towel to him. But instead of proceeding to dry it up, he joined his hands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter from its odd phraseology. I was in the condition of mine to be shocked at nothing. In fact, I was as reckless as some malifactors show themselves to the foot of the gallows. Oh, I forgot you, said the tyrant. You shall do that, down with you, and you conspire with him against me to your viper. There, that's work fit for you. He shook me till my teeth rattled and pitched me beside Joseph, who steadily concluded his supplications and then rose, bowing he would set off for the grains directly. Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he had fifty wives dead he should inquire into this. He was so obstinate in his resolution that Heathcliff deemed it expedient to compel from my lips a recapitulation of what had taken place, standing over me, heaving with malevolence as I reluctantly delivered the account and answer to his questions. It required a great deal of labour to satisfy the old man that Heathcliff was not the aggressor, especially with my hardly wrong replies. However, Mr. Earnshaw soon convinced him that he was alive still. Joseph hastened to administer a dose of spirits, and by their succour his master presently regained motion and consciousness. Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant of the treatment received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated, and said he should not notice his atrocious conduct further, but advised him to get to bed. To my joy he left us after giving this judicious counsel, and hindly stretched himself on the hearthstone. I departed to my own room marbling that I'd escape so easily. This morning, when I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr. Earnshaw was sitting by the fire, deadly sick. His evil genius, almost as gaunt and ghastly, lent against the chimney. Neither appeared inclined to dine, and, having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced alone. Nothing hindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced a certain sense of satisfaction and superiority as it intervals I cast a look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of a quiet conscience within me. After I had done, I ventured on the unusual liberty of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw's seat and kneeling in the corner beside him. Heathcliff did not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated his features almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone. His forehead, that I once thought so manly, that I now think so diabolical, was shaded with a heavy cloud. His basilisk eyes were nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping perhaps for the lashes were wet then. His lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In his case, I was gratified, and ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, and I couldn't miss this chance of sticking in a dart. His weakness was the only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong. Five, five miss, I interrupted. One might suppose you had never opened a Bible in your life. If God afflicted your enemies, surely that ought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to his. In general, I'll allow that it would be Ellen, she continued, but what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me unless I had a hand in it. I'd rather he suppered less if I might cause his sufferings, and he might know that I was the cause. Oh, I owe him so much. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I may take an eye for an eye a tooth for a tooth, for every wrench of agony return a wrench, reduce him to my level, as he was the first to injure make him the first to implore a pardon. And then, why then Ellen, I might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I handed him a glass and asked him how he was. Not as ill as I wish, he replied. But leaving out my arm, ever to enter on me as a sore as if I had been fighting with a legion of imps. Yes, no wonder, was my next remark. Catherine used to boast that she stood between you and bodily harm. She meant that certain persons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It's well people don't really rise from their graves, so last night she might have witnessed a repulsive scene. Are not you bruised and cut over your chest and shoulders? I can't say, he answered. What do you mean? That he darest strike me when I was down. He trampled on and kicked you and dashed you to the ground, I whispered, and his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth. Because he's only half, man, not so much. And the rest fiend. Mr. Anshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe, who, absorbed in his anguish seemed insensible to anything around him. The longer he stood, the plainer his reflections reveal their blackness through his features. If God would give me strength to strangle him in my last agony, I'd go to hell with joy. Grown the impatient man, writhing to rise, and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the sake of his life. It's enough that he's murdered one of you, I observed aloud. At the grange everyone knows your sister would have been living now, if it had not been for Mr. Heathcliff. After all, it is preferably hated and loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were, how happy Catherine was before he came, I'm fit to curse the day. Most likely Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me. The fiend, which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned, that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision. Get up and be gone out of my sight, said the mourner. I guess he uttered those words at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible. I beg your pardon, I replied, but I loved Catherine too, and her brother requires attendance, which for her sake I shall supply. Now that she's dead I see her in Hindley. Hindley has exactly her eyes, though you had not tried to gouge them out and made them black and red. And her get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death, he cried making a movement that caused me to make one also. But then I continued holding myself ready to flee, if poor Catherine had trusted you and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible, degrading title of Mrs Heathcliff, she would soon have presented a similar picture. She wouldn't have borne yet abominable behaviour quietly. Her detestation and disgust must have found voice. The back of the saddle and Earnshaw's person interposed between me and him. So instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner knife from the table and flung it at my head. It struck beneath my ear and stopped the sentence I was uttering, but pulling it out I sprang to the door and delivered another, which I hoped went a little deeper than his missile. The last glimpse I caught of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the embrace of my host, and both fell locked together on the hearth. In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph's speed to his master. I knocked over Heroton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a chair back in the doorway, and, blessed as a sole escape from purgatory, I bounded, leaped and flew down the steep road, then, quitting its winding shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks and waiting through marshes, precipitating myself in fact towards the beacon light of the Grange, and far rather would I be condemned to a perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions, than even for one night abide beneath the roof of Wuthering Heights again. Isabella stopped speaking and took a drink of tea. Then she rose and bidding me put on her bonnet and a great shawl I had brought, and turning a deaf ear to my entreaties for her to remain another hour, she stepped onto a chair, kissed Edgar's and Catherine's portraits, bestowed a similar salute on me, and descended to the carriage accompanied by Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her mistress. She was driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood. But a regular correspondence was established between her and my master when things were more settled. I believe her new abode was in the south, near London. There she had a son born a few months subsequent to her escape. He was christened Linton, and from the first she reported him to be an ailing, peevish creature. Mr Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where she lived. I refused to tell. He remarked that it was not of any moment, only she must beware of coming to her brother. She would not be with him if he had to keep her himself. Though I would give no information, he discovered through some of the other servants, both her place of residence, and the existence of the child. Still, he didn't molester, for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose. He often asked about the infant when he saw me, and on hearing its name, smiled grimly and observed, They wish me to hate it too, do they? I don't think they wish you to know anything about it, I answered. But I'll have it, he said, when I want it. They may reckon on that. Fortunately, its mother died before the time arrived, some thirteen years after the decease of Catherine, when Lenten was twelve, or a little more. On the day succeeding Isabella's unexpected visit, I had no opportunity of speaking to my master. He shunned the conversation and was fit for discussing nothing. When I could get him to listen, I sought pleased him that his sister had left her husband, whom he abhorred with an intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion that he refrained from going anywhere when he was likely at sea or here of Heathcliff. Grief and that together transformed him into a complete hermit. He threw up his office of magistrate, seized even to attend church, avoided the village on all occasions and spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his park and grounds, only varied by solitary rambles on the moors and visits to the grave of his wife mostly at evening or early morning before other wanderers were abroad. But he was too good to be thoroughly unhappy long. He didn't pray for Catherine's soul to haunt him. Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy. He recalled her memory with ardent, tender love and hopeful aspiring to the better world, where he doubted not she was gone. And he had earthly consolation and affections also. For a few days I said he seemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed. That coldness melted as fast as snow in April, and ere the tiny thing could stammer a word or totter a step, it wielded a desperate scepter in his heart. It was named Catherine, but he never called it the name in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short, probably because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always Cathy. It formed to him a distinction from the mother and yet a connection with her, and his attachment sprang from its relation to her far more than from its being his own. I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplexed myself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in similar circumstances. They had both been fond husbands and were both attached to their children, and I could not see how they shouldn't both have taken the same road for good or evil. But I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and the weaker man. When his ship struck, the captain abandoned his post, and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul. He trusted God, and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other despaired. They chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them. But you'll not want to hear my moralising, Mr Lockwood. You'll judge as well as I can all these things. At least, you'll think you will, and that's the same. The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected. It followed fast on his sisters. There were scarcely six months between them. We at the Grange never got a very succinct account of his state preceding it. All that I did learn was on occasion of going to aid in the preparations for the funeral. Mr Kenneth came to announce the event to my master. Well, Nellie, said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news. It's yours in my turn to go into mourning at present. Who's given us a slip now, do you think? Who? asked in a flurry. Well, I guess. He returned dismounting and slinging his bridle on a hook by the door, and nip up the corner of your apron. I am certain you'll need it. Not Mr Heathcliff, surely, I exclaimed. What? Would you have tears for him? Said the doctor. No, Heathcliff's a tough young fella. He looks bloomin' today. I've just seen him. He's rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his better off. Who is it then, Mr Kenneth? I repeated impatiently. Henley Earnshaw. Your old friend Henley, he replied, and my wicked gossip. Though he's been too wild for me this long while. There, I said we should draw water. But cheer up. He died true to his character, drunk as a lord. Poor lad. I'm sorry, too. One can't help missing an old companion. Though he had the worst tricks with him that ever man imagined, and has done me many a rascally turn. He's barely twenty-seven, it seems. That's your own age. Who would have thought you were born in one year? I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs Litton's death. Ancient associations lingered around my heart. I sat down in the porch and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr Kenneth to get another servant to introduce him to the master. I could not hinder myself from pondering on the question. Had he had fair play? Whatever I did, that idea would bother me. It was so tiresomely pertenacious that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights and assist in the last duties to the dead. Mr Litton was extremely reluctant to consent. But I pleaded eloquently for the friendless condition. In which he lay. And I said my old master, and foster-brother, had a claim on my services as strong as his own. Besides, I reminded him that the child-heritain was his wife's nephew, and in the absence of nearer kin, he ought to act as its guardian. And he ought to and must inquire how the property was left, and look after the concerns of his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to such matters then, but he bid me speak to his lawyer, and it length permitted me to go. His lawyer had been earnest also. I called at the village and asked him to accompany me. He shook his head and advised that Heathcliff should be let alone. Affirming, if the truth were known, Heritain would be found a little else than a beggar. His master died in debt, he said. The whole property is mortgaged, and the sole chance for the natural heir is to allow him an opportunity of creating some interest in the creditor's heart, that he may be inclined to deal leniently towards him. When I reached the heights, I explained that I had come to see everything carried out decently, and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress, expressed satisfaction at my presence. Mr. Heathcliff said he did not perceive that I was wanted, but I might stay in order of the arrangements for the funeral, if I chose. Correctly, he remarked, that fool's body shall be buried at the crossroads without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the two doors of the house against me, and he spent the night in drinking himself to death deliberately. We broke in this morning, for we heard him sporting like a horse, and there he was, laid over the saddle. Flaying and scalping would not have awakened him. I sent for Kenneth and he came, but not till the beast had changed into carrion. He was both dead and cold and stark, and so you'll allow it was useless making more stir about him. The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered, I'd rather he'd gone in sound for the doctor. I saw a tin tin of the master better than I am, and he weren't dead when I left, not of the sort. I insisted on the funeral being respectable. Mr. Heathcliff said I might have my own way there too, only he desired me to remember that the money for the whole affair came out of his pocket. He maintained a hard, careless department, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow. If anything, it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult work successfully executed. I observed once indeed something like exultation in his aspect. It was just when the people were bearing the coffin from the house. He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner, and previous to following of Herotin he lifted the unfortunate child onto the table and muttered with particular gusto, Now my bonny lad, you're mine, and we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind that twist it. The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this speech. He played with Heathcliff's whiskers and stroked his cheek. But I divined its meaning and observed tartly. That boy must go back with me to thrush cross grains, sir. There's nothing in the world less yours than he is. Does Lenton say so? he demanded. Of course. He's ordered me to take him, I replied. Well, said the scoundrel. We'll not argue the subject now. But I have a fancy to try my hand, riddering a young one. So intimate to your master that I must supply the place of this with my own, if he attempt to remove it. I don't engage Let Herotin go undisputed. That I'll be pretty sure to make the other come. Remember to tell him. This hint was enough to bind our hands. I repeated its substance on my return. And Ed Galenton, little interested at the commencement, spoke no more of interfering. I'm not aware that he could have done it to any purpose had he been ever so willing. The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights. He held firm possession and proved to the attorney who, in his turn, proved it to Mr. Lenton, that Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned for cash to supply his mania for gaming. And he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In that manner Herotin, who should now be the first gentleman in the neighborhood, was reduced to a state of complete dependence on his father's inveterate enemy. And lives in his own house as a servant, deprived of the advantage of wages, quite unable to write himself because of his friendlessness, and his ignorance that he has been wronged. End of Chapter 17 Recording by Marietta Finis Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 18 The twelve years continued, Mrs. Dean, following the dismal period were the happiest of my life. My greatest troubles in their passage rose from my little lady's trifling illnesses which he had to experience in coming with all children rich and poor. For the rest, after the first six months, she grew like a larch who could walk and talk to, in her own way, before the heath blossomed the second time over Mrs. Lenton's dust. She was the most winning thing that ever brought sunshine into a desolate house, a real beauty in face, with the Earnshaw's handsome dark eyes, but the Lenton's fair skin and small features and yellow curling hair. Her spirit was high, though not rough, and qualifying by her heart-sensitive and lively to excess in its affections. But capacity for intense attachments reminded me of a mother. Still, she did not resemble her, for she could be soft and mild as a dove, and she had a gentle voice and pensive expression. Her anger was never furious. Her love never fears. It was deep and tender. However, it must be acknowledged she had faults to foil her gift. Her propensity to be socios was one, and a perverse will that indulged children would variably acquire whether they be good tempered or cross. If a servant chased Vexha, it was always, I shall tell Papa, and if he approved her even by a look, he would have thought it a heartbreaking business. But I don't believe he ever did speak a harsh word to her. He took her education entirely on himself and made it an amusement. Fortunately, he rushed in a quick intellect, made her an apt scholar. She learned rapidly and eagerly, and did honor to his teaching. Till she reached the age of 13, she had not once been beyond range at the park by herself. Mr. Linton would take her with him as mild as so outside on rare occasions, but he trusted her to no one else. Given she was an unsubstantial name in her years, the chaplain, the only building she had approached or entered except her own home. Wuthering heights and Mr. Heathcliff did not exist for her. She was a perfect recluse, and apparently perfectly contented. Sometimes, indeed, while surveying the country from her nursery window, she would observe. Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those hills? I wonder what lies on the other side. Is it the sea? No, Miss Kathy, I would answer. It is hills again, just like these. And what are those golden rocks like when you stand under them? She once asked. The abrupt descent of penstone cracks particularly attracted her notice, especially when the setting sun shone on it at the topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape besides laying shadow. I explained that they were bare masses of stone with hardly enough earth in their two nourishes-tunted tree. And why are they bright so long after it is evening here? She pursued. Because they are a great deal higher up than we are, replied I. You could not climb them, they are too high and steep. In winter the frost is always there before it comes to us. And deep into summer I have found snow under the black hollow of the northeast side. Get on them! she cried glithly. Then I can go to and I am a woman. Has Papa been, Ellen? Papa would tell you, Miss, as it hastily that I am not worth the trouble of visiting. The malls where you ramble with him are much nicer, and the first cross park is the finest place in the world. But I know the park and I don't know those, she remembered herself, and I should delight to look round me from the brood at tallest point. My little pony mini shall take me some time. One of the maids mentioning the fairy cave quite turned her head with the desire to foresee this project. She teased Mr. Linton about it, and he promised she should have a journey when she got older. But Miss Catherine measured her age by month, and now I am old enough to go to Penis and Cracks with a constant question in her mouth. The road near the wall closed by watery highs, and girl had another heart to pass it, or she received as constantly the answer, not yet, love, not yet. I said Mrs. Heathcliff lived above a dozen years after quitting her husband. Her family were of a delicate constitution. She and Edgar both liked the ready health that you would generally meet in these parts. What her last illness was, I am not certain, I can judge her to have died of the same thing, her kind of fever, slow in its commencement, but incurable and rapidly consuming life through its close. She wrote to inform her brother of probable conclusion of her four months in this position under which she had suffered and in a treat in him to come to her if possible, but she had much to settle and she wished to bid him adieu and deliver Linton safely into his hands. A hope for that Linton might be left with him, as he had been with her. His father, she would faint and convince herself, had no desire to assume the burden of his maintenance or education. My master hesitated not moving in complying with her request, reluctant as he was to leave home at ordinary court. He flew to answer this, commanding Catherine to map the cul-de-vigilance in his absence with reiterated orders that she must not wander out of the park even under my escort. He did not calculate and her going unaccompanied. He was away three weeks. The first day or two, by charge set in a corner of the library, too sad for either reading or playing. In that quiet state, she caused me little trouble, but it was succeeded by an interval of impatient, fretful weariness. And being too busy, and to all of them, to run up and down and musing her, I hid the method by which she might entertain herself. I used to stand her on her travels round the grounds, now on foot, now on a pony, indulging her with the patient origins of all her real and imaginary adventures when she returned. The summer shone in full prime, and she took such a taste for this solitary rumbling, but she often contrived to remain out from breakfast till tea, and then the evenings were spent in recounting her fanciful tales. I did not fear her breaking bounds, because the gates were generally locked, and I thought she would scarcely venture forth alone if they had stood wide open. Unluckily, my confidence proved misplaced. Catherine came to me when morning at eight o'clock, and said she was the day an Arabian merchant going to cross the desert with his caravan. And I must give her plenty of provision for herself and beasts, a whole of three camels, personated by a large hound and a couple of pointers. I got to get a good store of dainties, and slung them in a basket on one side of the saddle, and she sprung up as gay as a fairy, sheltered by her white, brimmed hat and gay veil from the Julaison, and I told it off with a merry laugh, mocking my courteous council to avoid galloping, and come back early. The noted thing never made her appearance at tea. When traveller of the hound, big and old dog in front of its ease, returned, but neither Catherine nor the pony nor the two pointers were face-balled in any direction. I dispatched them to resound this path and that path, and alased when I wanted to insert her by myself. There was a labour working at a fence, round a plantation at the borders of the grounds, and I inquired of him if he had seen our young lady. I saw her at dawn, and he replied she would have made cut a razor switch, and then slept her a galloway over the head yonder where it slowest and galloped out of sight. You may guess how I felt at hearing this news. Struck me directly, she must have started her penis stone crows. Which will become of her, I juggled, pushing through a gap which the man was repairing and making stretch to the high road. I walked, as if for rage, a mile after mile, till a turn brought me in view of the heist. But no Catherine could I detect far and near. The cranks lie about a mile and a half beyond Mr. Heathcliff's place, and that is four from the Grange, so I began to fear night would fall, ere I could reach them. And what if she should have slipped in the clam-bring among them on the place that had been killed a broken sum of her bones? My suspence was truly painful, and at first it gave me delightful relief to observe in hurrying by the farmhouse, Charlie, who first stood at the party lying on a window, with swell head and bleeding ear. I opened the wicked and ran to the door, knocking vehemently for admittance. A woman whom I knew, and who firmly lived at Gibberton, answered, She had been sugar-induced since the death of Mr. Urnshaw. Ah, said she, you are coming seeking your little mistress. Don't be frightened, she's here safe, but I'm glad it isn't master. He is not at home, then, is he. I pounded quite breathless with quick walking in the lab. No, she blight, both he and Joseph are off, and I think they won't return this hour or more. Step in and rest you a bit. I entered and beheld my stray lamb sitting on the half, rocking herself in a wheelchair that had been a month when her child. Her hat was hung as the wall, and it seemed perfectly at home, laughing and chattering, at the best spirits imaginable, to Herten, my great strong glad of 18, who stared at her with considerable kerosene astonishment, comprehending previously on the flume succession of remarks and questions which her tongue never ceased pouring forth. Very well, miss, I exclaimed, concealing my joy during the angry countenance. This is your last ride, till Papa comes back. I'll not trust you with a special again, you naughty-nody girl. Helen, she cried gaily, jumping up and running to my side. I shall have a pretty starry self tonight. And so, you're funny, I've never been here in your life before. Put that hat on at home at once, I am dreadfully grieved at you, Miss Kathy. You've done extremely wrong. It's no use partying and crying that one will pay the trouble of hearts carrying the country after you, to think how Mr. Linton charged me to keep you in. And you're stealing off so. It shows you're a cunning little fox, and nobody will put faith in you anymore. Done. Subchains to me check. Papa charged me nothing. He'll not scold me, Helen. He's never crossed like you. Come come, I repeat it. I'll tie the ribbon. Now, you must have no patience. Oh, for sure, it's 13 years old and such a baby. This exclamation was caused by her pushing the hat from her head and retreating to the chimney out of my reach. Nice, said the servant, only having the body last, Mrs. Dean. We may not stop, but you'd faint have written for us. A fear should be uneasy. Heard an offer to go with her, and I thought he'd shoot it, so I rolled by the hill. Heard some during the discussions, stood with his hands in his pockets, two over to speak. Though he looked as if he'd unleashed my intrusion. How long went to wait? I continued sugaring the woman's interference. It would darken ten minutes. Where's the pony, Miss Cathy? And where's Phoenix? I shall leave you unless you be quick, so please yourself. The pony is in the yard. She replied that Phoenix's shadow there is bitten, and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all about it, but you were in bad time, but don't deserve to hear. I picked up her hat and approached her reinstated, but, perceiving that the people of the house took her part, she commenced, capering around the room, and on my giving chase, ran like a mouse over a number and behind the furniture, ran like a ridiculous for me to pursue. Herton and the woman laughed, and she joined them and walked more in pertinent still. It's like crying in graduation. Well, Miss Cathy, if you were aware whose house this is, you'd be glad enough to get out. It's your father's, isn't it? Said she, turning to Herton. No, replied looking down and blushing bashfully. He could not stand the steady gaze from her eyes. There was ever just his own. Who's them? Your master's. She asked. He called her deeper, with a different feeling, and let her know and turned away. Who is his master? Continues the task from girl, appealing to me. He told him in our house and our folk, I thought he had been the eldest son, and he never said miss. It should have done shouldn't he be servant. Herton grew black as a thunder cloud at his child's pitch. I suddenly shook my question, and lost exceedingly creeping half a departure. Now I get my hold, she said, addressing her new kissman, as she would one of the stable boys at a crunch. Then you may come with me, and you want to see where the goblin hunter rises in the marsh, and to hear about the fairies, as you call them. But behest, what the matter, get my hold, I say. Must see the jam before I be thy servant, grow the land. You'll see me what? As Cathy ran in the prime. Damn, that saucy witch, he replied. There, miss Cathy, you see, I've got a pretty company in your post. Nice words to be used to a young lady. Pray don't begin to dispute with him. Come, let us seek for me ourselves and be gone. But Ellen, tried she staring, fixed in astonishment. How dare he speak so to me? He wasn't to be meant to do as they asked him. Yo, you wicked creature, I shall tell Papa what she said. Now then. Had to not appear to fill this thread, so the tears sprung into her eyes with indignation. You bring the pony, she exclaimed, turning to the woman, and at my dog for this moment. Softly, miss, answered she dressed. You lose nothing by being single, though Mr. Heldon there. Be not a master's son, he's your cousin. And it was never high to serve you. He, my cousin, cried Cathy with his colorful laugh. Yes, indeed, responded her approver. Oh, Ellen, don't let them say such things, you bastard red crook. Papa is going to fetch my cousin from London. My cousin is a gentleman's son. That night, she stopped and wept outright, upset at the bare notion of relationships such a clown. Hush, hush, I whisper. People can have many cousins in of all sorts, miss Cathy without being any of the worst, but only if they didn't keep their company, they'd be disagreeable and bad. It's not, it's not my cousin, Ellen. She went and gathered fresh grief and reflection, and fling herself into my arms for a refuge from the idea. There was much fax at her and the servant for the mutual revelation. Having no doubt of Linton's approaching rival, communicated by the former, being reported Mr. Heathley, and feeling as confident that Catherine's first thought on her father's return would be the second explanation of the latter's assertion concerning her root-bread kindling. Heldon, recovering from his disgust at being taken for a servant, seen moved by her distress, and having fetched the pony round to the door, he took to propitiate her a fine crook-legged terrier who helped from the kennel, and, putting it into her hand, bit a whisked frame and note. Posing in her lamentations, she surveyed him with a glance of awe and horror, then burst forth anew. I was carefully refrained from smiling at his antipathy to the poor fellow, who was a well-made, three-decade, good-looking and features and stubborn and healthy, but a tightened garment befitting his daily occupations of working on the farm and lounging among moves after a rabbit in game. Still, after what I could detect in his physiognomy, mind-owning better qualities than his father ever possessed. Good thing he lost me the wellness of weeds, to be sure, who's ranked thus far over top of the neglected growth, yet notwithstanding evidence of a wealthy soil, that might yield luxuriant crops under other favorable circumstances. Mr. Hisscliffe, I believe, had not treated him physically ill, thanks to his fearless nature which offered no temptation to that curse of oppression. He had none of the timid susceptibility that would have given zest to ill treatment in Hisscliffe's judgment. He appeared to have been his malevolence on making him a brute. He was never taught to read or write, never rebuked by the bad habits that annoy his keeper, never led a single step to his virtue, or carried by a single precept against spies. And, from what I heard, Joseph contributed much to his deterioration, but in that romantic partiality which prominent him flatter and pet him as a boy because he was the head of an old family. And, as he had been in the habit of accusing Catherine Earnshaw and Hisscliffe when children of putting the master past his patience, and compelling him to seek solace and drink by what he termed their awful ways. So, at present, he laid the whole burden of his hair's force on the shoulders of his use of purpose proper. In the last war, he wouldn't correct him nor, however culpably, he behaved. It gave Joseph satisfaction, apparently, to watch him go the worst length. He allowed that the lad was rude, that his soul was abandoned to partition, but then he reflected that Hisscliffe must answer for it. Hatton's blood would be recried at his hands, and there lay immense consolation in that thought. Joseph had instilled into him a pride of name and of his lineage. He would, had it dared, have fostered hate between him and the present owner of the Heights, but he is dreaded that owner mounted to substitution, and he confines his feelings regarding him to murder new endures and private combinations. Narnum pretend to be intimately acquainted with the most-believing customer in those days at Wuthering Heights. They only speak from hearsay, for I saw little. The village of the furrowed Mr. Hisscliffe was near, and a cruel hand lulled to his tennis, but the house inside had regained its ancient aspect of comfort and of female management, and the scenes of right coming to him this time were not now enacted within his walls. The master was too gloomy to seek companionship with any people good or bad, and he is yet. This, however, is not making progress with my story. Miss Cathy rejected the peace offering of the terrier and demanded her own dogs, Charlie and Phoenix. They came limping and hanging in their heads, and we sat out of the hall with Sally out of sauce, every one of us. I couldn't ring from my little lady how she had spent the day, except that, as I suppose, the gul of her pilgrimage was peniston-cranks, and she roved without revenge to the gate or the farmhouse, when Herton happened to issue forth, turning by some canine followers who attacked her train. They had a smart battle before their owners could separate them, but from the introduction Catherine told Herton who she was and where she was going, and asked him to show her the way, finally beguiling him to accompany her. He opened the mysteries of the fairy cave into any other queer places, but being in disgrace was not favorite of the description of the interesting objects he saw. I could gather, however, but her guide had been a favorite till she heard his feelings by addressing him as a servant, and his clique's housekeeper heard hers by calling him her cousin, though the language he held held to her wrinkled in her heart, she who was all slob and dull and queen and angel, with everybody at the grange, to be insulted so shockingly at a stranger. I did not comprehend it, and Harbrook had to obtain a promise that she would not lay the grievance before her father. I explained how he objected to the whole household of the heights and how sorry it would be to find she had been there, but I insisted most on the fact that she revealed my negligence of his orders. He would perhaps be so angry that she would have to lean, and Cathy couldn't bear that prospect. She pledged her word and kept it for my sake. After all, she was a sweet little girl. End of chapter 18 Chapter 19 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 Peter Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 19 A letter edged with black announced the day of my master's return. Isabella was dead, and he wrote to bid me get mourning for his daughter and arrange a room and other accommodations for his youthful nephew. Catherine ran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back and indulged the most sanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies of her real cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came. Since early morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs, and now attired in her new black frock, poor thing, her aunt's death impressed her with no definite sorrow. She obliged me, by constant worrying, to walk with her down through the grounds to meet them. Linton is just six months younger than I am, she chatted, as we strolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under shadow of the trees. How delightful it would be to have him for a playfellow, and Isabella sent Papa a beautiful lock of his hair. It was lighter than mine, more flaxen, and quite as fine. I have it carefully preserved in a little glass box, and I have often thought with a pleasure it be to see its owner. Oh, I am happy, and papa, dear, dear papa, come, Ellen, let us run, come, run. She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footsteps reached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy bank beside the path, and tried to wait patiently. But that was impossible, she couldn't be still a minute. How long they are, she exclaimed. Ah, I see some dust on the road, they are coming. No, when will they be here? May we not go a little way, half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say yes to that clump of birches at the turn. I refused staunchly. At length their suspense was ended, the travelling carriage rolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her arms, as soon as she caught her father's face looking from the window. He descended, nearly as eager as herself, and a considerable interval elapsed, ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. While he exchanged caresses, I took a peep in to see after Linton. He was asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken from my master's younger brother, so strong was their resemblance, but there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had. The latter saw me looking, and having shaken the hands, advised me to close the door, and leave him undisturbed, for the journey had fatigued them. Cathy would feign have taken one glance, but her father told her to come, and they walked up together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare the servants. Now, darling, said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted at the bottom of the front steps. Your cousin is not so strong or so merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time since. Therefore, don't expect him to play and run about with you directly, and don't harass him much by talking. Let him be quiet this evening, at least, will you? Yes, yes, papa, answered Catherine. But I do want to see him, and he hasn't once looked out. The carriage stopped, and the sleeper being roused was lifted to the ground by his uncle. This is your cousin, Cathy Linton, he said, putting their little hands together. She's fond of you already, and mind you don't grieve her by crying tonight. Try to be cheerful now, the traveling is at an end, and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please. Let me go to bed, then, answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine's salute, and he put his fingers to remove in sippy and tears. Come, come, there's a good child, I whispered, leading him in. You'll make her weep too, see how sorry she is for you. I do not know whether it was sorry for him, but his cousin put on his sad accountants as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered and mounted the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to remove Linton's cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table. But he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired, what was the matter? I can't sit on a chair, sobbed the boy. Go to the sofa, then. And Ellen shall bring you some tea, answered his uncle patiently. He had been greatly tried during the journey, I felt convinced, by his fretful ailing charge. Linton slowly trailed himself off and lay down. Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to her side. But first she sat silent, but that could not last. She had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be. And she commenced stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better. He dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile. Oh, he'll do very well, said the master to me, after watching them a minute. Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a child of his own age will instill new spirit into him soon, and by wishing for strength, he'll gain it. I, if we can keep him, I am used to myself. And so misgivings came over me, that there was slight hope of that. And then I thought, however will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights, between his father and head, and what playmates and instructors there'll be. Our doubts were presently decided, even earlier than I expected. I had just taken the children upstairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linden asleep. He would not suffer me to leave him, till that was the case. I had come down, on the standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle for Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen, and informed me that Mr. Heathcliff's servant Joseph was out the door, and wished to speak with the master. I shall ask him what he wants first, I said, in considerable trepidation. A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the instant they returned from a long journey, I don't think the master can see him. Joseph advanced through the kitchen as I altered these words. He was done in his Sunday garments, with most sanctimonious and sourest face, and holding his hat in one hand, and his stick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on the mat. Good evening, Joseph, I said, coldly. What business brings you here tonight? It's Master Linden I once speak to, he answered, waving me at the stainfully aside. Mr. Linden is going to bed, unless you have something particular to say, I'm sure he won't hear it now, I continued. You'd better sit down in there, and entrust your message to me. Which is his realm, pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closed doors. I perceived he was bent on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly I went up to the library, and announced the unseasonable visitor, advising that he should be dismissed till next day. Mr. Linden had no time to empower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my heels, and pushing into the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the table, with his two hands on the table. With his two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began an elevated tone, as if anticipating opposition, Eighth Cleth has sent me for his lad, and I wouldn't go back about him. Edgar Linton was silent a minute, an expression of exceeding sorrow overcast his features. He would have pitied the child on his own account, but, recalling Isabella's hopes and fears, an anxious wishes for her son, and hurried commendations of him to his care. He grieved bitterly at the prospect of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might be avoided. No plan offered itself. The very exhibition of any desire to keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory. There was nothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going to rouse him from his sleep. Tell Mr. Heathcliff, he answered calmly, that his son shall come to Wuthering Heights tomorrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go the distance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desired him to remain under my guardianship, and, at present, his health is very precarious. Nor, said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and assuming an authoritative error. Nor, that means not! Heathcliff makes no account of the mother, nor your nor there. But he'll hear his lad, and I won't take him. So now your nor. You shall not tonight, answered Linton decisively. Walk downstairs at once and repeat your master what I have said. Ellen, show him down. Go! And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he read the room of him and closed the door. Very well! Sheltered Joseph as he slowly drew off. To mourn, he's come his self, and trust him now, if you dare. End of chapter 19 of Wuthering Heights. LibriVax Recording. On LibriVax Recording there is a puppy domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVax.org. Recording by Maja Tafidis. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Chapter 20. To obviate the danger of this thread being fulfilled, Mr. Linton commissioned me to take the boy home early, and Catherine's pony answered he. And we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good or bad. We must do nothing of where he's gone to my daughter. She cannot associate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain in ignorance of his proximity. Lest she should be restless and anxious to visit the Heights. Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and he's been obliged to leave us. Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and astonished to be informed that he was prepared for further traveling. But a softened half of the matter about his stating that he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who used to see him so much, he did not like to defer the pleasure that he should recover from his late journey. Life's father, he cried in strangeness by Plexi. Mama never told me I had a father. Where does he live? I'd rather stay with Uncle. He lives a little distance from the Grange, our life. So he's beyond those hills, not so far, but you may walk over here wherein you get hearty. And you should be glad to go home and to see him. You must try to love him as he did your mother, and then he will love you. Heard of him before? Asked him, why didn't my mother and him live together, as other people do? They have business to give him the North, I answered. And your mother's health cried hard to reside in the South. Why didn't my mother speak to me about him to severe the child? She often told Uncle, and I learned to love him long ago. How might you love Papa? I didn't know him. Oh, old children love their parents, I said. Your mother perhaps thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you. Let us make haste, and only ride on such a beautiful morning is much preferable to an hour's long sleep. There is she to go with us, demanded little Galas so yesterday. Not now, replied I. Is Uncle, you can't even know, where shall be your companion there, I said. Linton sang back on his pillow when he fell into a brown study. My one would go without Uncle, I cried next. May I come tell where you mean to take me? I attempted to persuade him of the notice as showing reluctance to meet his father. Still, he obstinately resisted and progressed with Jesse, and I had to call for my nurse's assistance, encoding him out of bed. Poor thing was finally got off, with seven deluding assurances, but his absence should be short. Then Mr Edgar and Kathy would visit him, and other promises equally ill-founded, which I invented and ready to raise you to intervals throughout the way. The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine of the gentle canter of me, relieved his despondency after a while. He began with questions concerning his new home and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness. Is the brother in Hyde's pleasant place a star-scrushed range? He inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, where the light mist mounted in the form of fleecy clouds in a screwed up blue. It's not so bearish in trees, or replacements, not quite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all around, and the air is healthier for you, fresher and drier. You will, perhaps, think the building old and dark at first, though it is a respectable house, the next best in the neighborhood. And you will have such nice rambles on the move, head to the urn show that is Miss Kathy's other cousin and so yours, in manner, will show you all the sweetest spots, and you can read a book and find whether I make a great haul of your study. No, and then your uncle may turn you in walk, he does frequently walk out on the hills. When was my father like, yes, is he as young and handsome as uncle? He's as young, said I, but his black hair and eyes looks turner and he's taller and bigger altogether. There are lots seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way. Still, mind you, be frank and cordial with him, and naturally he'll be fond of a view that any uncle for you are his own. Black hair and eyes, really, and I can't fancy him. Then I am not like him, am I? Not much, I answered. Not more so, I thought, surveying with regret the wide complex and slim frame of my companion, and his large, languid eyes, his mother's eyes, said that unless more be touched and scantled in a moment, they had not a vested or a sparkling spirit. How strange that he should never come see ma'am and me, he marvel. He's even seen me. If he has, I must have been a baby, and remember that a single thing about him. I, Master Linton, stood out 300 miles as great distance, and ten years from there are different lengths of grown-up person, comparing with what they do to you. This problem is through his late proposed going from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity in hours too late, in trouble with him with questions on the subject, to disturb him for no good. The boy was full young by with his own connotations, while we measure the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden gate. I watched to catch his impressions in his countenance. He surveyed the carved front and low-browed lattices, the struggling gooseberry bushes and crooked thurs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head. His private feelings entirely disapproved at the exterior of his new road. But he had sense to postpone complaining, and there might be compensation within. Before he dismounted, I went and opened the door. At half past six, the family had just finished breakfast, and the servant was clearing and wiping down on the table, dozed of stool by his master's chariot, telling some tale, considering a lame horse, and her turn was preparing for the hayfield. Hello, Nelly. I've visited his play for the summer, and I feel I should have come down and fetch my property myself. You've brought it, have you? Let's see what you can make of it. He got up and stood at the door, hurting in Joseph's fold and gaping curiosity. Paul and Newton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the three. Surely, said Joseph, after a great inspection, he swapped with his master, and knew he was last. His cliff, having stared his son into an anchor of confusion after his callful laugh. God, what a beauty, what a lovely charming thing, he exclaimed. How can there be a weird little snail on some milk, Nelly? How dumb a soul! But that's worth an expected. The devil knows I wasn't sanguine. I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down and enter. It's not only come to him a meaning of his father's speech, or whether it foretell it for him. Indeed, he was not yet certain of the grim, sneering stranger with his father. But it culled on to me the growing trepidation, and I missed her his cliff, saying the sea from beneath him came hither. It hid his face on my shoulder and wept. Said his cliff, stretching out a hand, and dragging him roughly between his knees, and then hauling up his head to chill. No good nonsense, not going to her the lantern, isn't that the name? Thou art thy mother's child entirely. Where is my share on the appealing chicken? He took a boy's cabin, pushed by his thick, flexing curls, felt his slender arms and his small fingers, bringing which examiner's lanterns his crying, alighting his great blue eyes from his bathing spectre. For me, as he hitheth, having satisfied himself, the lanterns were all equally frail and feeble. No, said the lantern, with a gaze of vacant fear. It'll hurt me, I dare say. No, it replied again. No, what a shame of your mother never waking to feel a regard for me. You're my son, then, I'll tell you. That your mother was a wicked slut, to leave you an ignorance of the sort of father you possessed. No, don't wince and cover up. Though it is something to see you have never white blood. Be a good lad, and I'll do for you. Now, if you'll be tired, you may sit down, not get home yet. I guess you'll report what you hear and see to the side for the grain. Rid of the thing won't be settled while you linger about it. Well, replied I, hope you'll be kind to the boy, Mr. Hithlifold, you'll not keep him long, in his hall you have, keen in the wide world, that you'll ever know, remember. Though I'll be very kind to him, you needn't fear, he said nothing. Only nobody else must be kind to him. I'm jealous of him, unapologizing his affection. That became my kindest choice of thing, I'll have some breakfast. Here, turn you infernal calf, but how do you work? Yes, now, here, and when they had a part my son is prospective owner of your place, and I should not wish him to die, till I was certain of being his successor. Besides his mine, and I want to try and sing my descendant, Fairly Lord, of their estate, by charl hiring their children to till with Father's lands, for wait. That is a soul-consideration, which can make me enjoy the wealth. I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he arrives. That consideration is sufficient, he is as safe with me, and shall be tender as carefully as he must stands his own. Having room upstairs varies for him in handsome style, I would get a tutor also to come three times a week, from 20 miles distance to teach him what he plans to learn. I've already heard him obey him, in fact, and arranged everything for the view of preserving the superior and the dead man in him above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves in trouble. If I wished any blessing in the world, just to find him a worthy object of pride, then I'm better led to the pond with a way-faced, winding wretch. What he was speaking, doing return-bearing, abasing a milk-parry to entice him for Linton, who stirred round the hall-mess, with a look of aversion, the furrow could not eat it. I saw the old man serving share-a-large with his master's court of charm, though he was compelled to retain his sentiment in his heart, because his court plainly meant his underlings to hold him in honour. Cannot ate it, repeated he appearing in Linton's face, and subdued his voice to whisper for fear of being overheard. His master hurt him, even taking note else when he were little on, and what were good enough for him was good enough in years, rather than think. I shan't ate it! Then some Linton snapsled. Tilt away! Joseph snatched up a friend in Linton and embroidered us. Is there a way to stick them? Yes, thrust in the turn of his lips, though. Who it should ill them, he said. Wah! So Joseph young dainty chops as he cannot ate them, but I guess it's right his mother were just so, who were almost too mucky to soak corn for making her bread. He don't mention his mother to me, said the master angrily. Get him something you can eat, that's all. What is his usual food, Nelly? I suggest bold meal, cold tea, and the housekeeper received instructions to prepare some. Come, my reflect, his father's selflessness may contribute to his concert. He pursues his delicate constitution and the necessity of treating him terribly. All consul, Mr. Eddie, by acquainting him with the term, he excludes humor as taken. Having no excuse for lingering longer, I slipped out. While Linton was engaged and timidly rebuffing his advances, our family should die. There was too much on the alert to be cheated. As I closed the door, I heard a cry in a frantic repetition, other words, Don't leave me! I must stay here! I must stay here! The village was raised in a fell, but did not suffer him to come forth. I mounted me and urged her to a trot, and saw my brief guardianship ending. End of chapter 20.