While leading the way upstairs, she recommended that I should hide the candle, and not make a noise, for her master had an odd notion about the chamber she would put me in, and never let anybody lodge there willingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I asked the reason.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She did not know, she answered; she had only lived there a year or two; and they had so many queer goings on, she could not begin to be curious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Too stupified to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed. The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press,1<\/a><\/sup> and a large oak case, with squares cut out near the top, resembling coach windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Having approached this structure, I looked inside, and perceived it to be a singular sort of old-fashioned couch, very conveniently designed to obviate the necessity for every member of the family having a room to himself. In fact, it formed a little closet, and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served as a table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I slid back the panelled sides, got in with my light, pulled them together again, and felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every one else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small\u2014Catherine Earnshaw<\/em>, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff<\/em>, and then again to Catherine Linton.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued spelling over Catherine Earnshaw\u2014Heathcliff\u2014Linton, till my eyes closed; but they had not rested five minutes when a glare of white letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres\u2014the air swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive name, I discovered my candle wick reclining on one of the antique volumes, and perfuming the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I snuffed it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence of cold and lingering nausea, sat up, and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was a Testament, in lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty: a fly-leaf bore the inscription\u2014\u201cCatherine Earnshaw, her book,\u201d and a date some quarter of a century back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shut it, and took up another, and another, till I had examined all. Catherine\u2019s library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose; scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen and ink commentary\u2014at least, the appearance of one\u2014covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some were detached sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page, quite a treasure probably when first lighted on, I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph, rudely yet powerfully sketched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began, forthwith, to decypher her faded hieroglyphics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAn awful Sunday!\u201d commenced the paragraph beneath. \u201cI wish my father were back again. Hindley is a detestable substitute\u2014his conduct to Heathcliff is atrocious\u2014H. and I are going to rebel\u2014we took our initiatory step this evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAll day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so Joseph must needs get up a congregation in the garret; and, while Hindley and his wife basked downstairs before a comfortable fire\u2014doing anything but reading their Bibles, I\u2019ll answer for it\u2014Heathcliff, myself, and the unhappy plough-boy were commanded to take our Prayer-books, and mount. We were ranged in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering, and hoping that Joseph would shiver too, so that he might give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea! The service lasted precisely three hours; and yet my brother had the face to exclaim, when he saw us descending,<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2018What, done already?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOn Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; now a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners!<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2018You forget you have a master here,\u2019 says the tyrant. \u2018I\u2019ll demolish the first who puts me out of temper! I insist on perfect sobriety and silence. Oh, boy! was that you? Frances, darling, pull his hair as you go by; I heard him snap his fingers.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFrances pulled his hair heartily and then went and seated herself on her husband\u2019s knee; and there they were, like two babies, kissing and talking nonsense by the hour\u2014foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just fastened our pinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph, on an errand from the stables. He tears down my handywork, boxes my ears, and croaks\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2018T\u2019 maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath nut oe\u2019red, und t\u2019 sahnd uh\u2019t gospel still i\u2019 yer lugs, and yah darr be laiking! shame on ye! sit ye dahn, ill childer! they\u2019s good books eneugh if ye\u2019ll read \u2019em; sit ye dahn, and think uh yer sowls!2<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSaying this, he compelled us so to square our positions that we might receive, from the far-off fire, a dull ray to show us the text of the lumber he thrust upon us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI could not bear the employment. I took my dingy volume by the scroop,3<\/a><\/sup> and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHeathcliff kicked his to the same place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen there was a hubbub!<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2018Maister Hindley!\u2019 shouted our chaplain. \u2018Maister, coom hither! Miss Cathy\u2019s riven th\u2019 back off \u201cTh\u2019 Helmet uh Salvation,\u201d un\u2019 Heathcliff\u2019s pawsed his fit intuh t\u2019 first part uh \u201cT\u2019 Brooad Way to Destruction!\u201d It\u2019s fair flaysome ut yah let \u2019em goa on this gait. Ech! th\u2019 owd man ud uh laced \u2019em properly\u2014bud he\u2019s goan!4<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHindley hurried up from his paradise on the hearth, and seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen, where, Joseph asseverated, \u2018owd Nick\u20195<\/a><\/sup> would fetch us as sure as we were living; and, so comforted, we each sought a separate nook to await his advent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI reached this book, and a pot of ink from a shelf, and pushed the house-door ajar to give me light, and I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient and proposes that we should appropriate the dairy woman\u2019s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion\u2014and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophesy verified\u2014we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next sentence took up another subject; she waxed lachrymose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!\u201d she wrote. \u201cMy head aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still I can\u2019t give over. Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won\u2019t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n I began to nod drowsily over the dim page; my eye wandered from manuscript to print. I saw a red ornamented title\u2014\u201cSeventy Times Seven, and the First of the Seventy-First. A Pious Discourse delivered by the Reverend Jabes Branderham, in the Chapel of Gimmerden Sough.\u201d And while I was, half consciously, worrying my brain to guess what Jabes Branderham would make of his subject, I sank back in bed, and fell asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper! what else could it be that made me pass such a terrible night? I don\u2019t remember another that I can at all compare with it since I was capable of suffering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I began to dream, almost before I ceased to be sensible of my locality. I thought it was morning, and I had set out on my way home, with Joseph for a guide. The snow lay yards deep in our road; and, as we floundered on, my companion wearied me with constant reproaches that I had not brought a pilgrim\u2019s staff, telling me I could never get into the house without one, and boastfully flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood to be so denominated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a moment I considered it absurd that I should need such a weapon to gain admittance into my own residence. Then, a new idea flashed across me. I was not going there; we were journeying to hear the famous Jabes Branderham preach from the text\u2014\u201cSeventy Times Seven\u201d; and either Joseph, the preacher, or I had committed the \u201cFirst of the Seventy-First,\u201d and were to be publicly exposed and excommunicated.6<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n We came to the chapel. I have passed it really in my walks, twice or thrice; it lies in a hollow, between two hills\u2014an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whose peaty moisture is said to answer all the purposes of embalming on the few corpses deposited there. The roof has been kept whole hitherto, but, as the clergyman\u2019s stipend is only twenty pounds per annum, and a house with two rooms, threatening speedily to determine into one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor, especially as it is currently reported that his flock would rather let him starve than increase the living by one penny from their own pockets. However, in my dream, Jabes had a full and attentive congregation: and he preached\u2014good God\u2014what a sermon! Divided into four hundred and ninety<\/em> parts, each fully equal to an ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing a separate sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot tell; he had his private manner of interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother should sin different sins on every occasion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were of the most curious character\u2014odd trangressions that I never imagined previously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oh, how weary I grew. How I writhed, and yawned, and nodded, and revived! How I pinched and pricked myself, and rubbed my eyes, and stood up, and sat down again, and nudged Joseph to inform me if he would ever<\/em> have done!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was condemned to hear all out; finally, he reached the \u201cFirst of the Seventy-First.\u201d<\/em> At that crisis, a sudden inspiration descended on me; I was moved to rise and denounce Jabes Branderham as the sinner of the sin that no Christian need pardon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSir,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201csitting here, within these four walls, at one stretch, I have endured and forgiven the four hundred and ninety heads of your discourse. Seventy times seven times have I plucked up my hat and been about to depart\u2014Seventy times seven times have you preposterously forced me to resume my seat. The four hundred and ninety-first is too much. Fellow martyrs, have at him! Drag him down, and crush him to atoms, that the place which knows him may know him no more!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThou art the Man!\u201d<\/em> cried Jabes, after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion. \u201cSeventy times seven times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage\u2014seventy times seven did I take counsel with my soul\u2014Lo, this is human weakness; this also may be absolved! The First of the Seventy-First is come. Brethren, execute upon him the judgment written! Such honour have all His saints!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n With that concluding word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim\u2019s staves, rushed round me in a body, and I, having no weapon to raise in self-defence, commenced grappling with Joseph, my nearest and most ferocious assailant, for his. In the confluence of the multitude, several clubs crossed; blows, aimed at me, fell on other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resounded with rappings and counter-rappings. Every man\u2019s hand was against his neighbour; and Branderham, unwilling to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud taps on the boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartly that, at last, to my unspeakable relief, they woke me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And what was it that had suggested the tremendous tumult, what had played Jabes\u2019s part in the row? Merely the branch of a fir tree that touched my lattice, as the blast wailed by, and rattled its dry cones against the panes!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I listened doubtingly an instant; detected the disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again; if possible, still more disagreebly than before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This time, I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard, also, the fir-bough repeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right cause; but it annoyed me so much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the casement. The hook was soldered into the staple, a circumstance observed by me when awake, but forgotten.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI must stop it, nevertheless!\u201d I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch: instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand!<\/p>\n\n\n\n The intense horror of nightmare came over me; I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLet me in\u2014let me in!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCatherine Linton,\u201d it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Linton?<\/em> I had read Earnshaw<\/em> twenty times for Linton). \u201cI\u2019m come home, I\u2019d lost my way on the moor!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child\u2019s face looking through the window\u2014Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bed-clothes: still it wailed, \u201cLet me in!\u201d and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow can I?\u201d I said at length. \u201cLet me<\/em> go, if you want me to let you in!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour, yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on!<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBegone!\u201d I shouted, \u201cI\u2019ll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s twenty years,\u201d mourned the voice, \u201ctwenty years, I\u2019ve been a waif for twenty years!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Thereat began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tried to jump up, but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal.7<\/a><\/sup> Hasty footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At last, he said in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs any one here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I considered it best to confess my presence, for I knew Heathcliff\u2019s accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers, with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme that he could hardly pick it up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is only your guest, sir,\u201d I called out, desirous to spare him the humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. \u201cI had the misfortune to scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I\u2019m sorry I disturbed you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish you were at the\u2014\u201d commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd who showed you up to this room?\u201d he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions. \u201cWho was it? I\u2019ve a good mind to turn them out of the house this moment!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was your servant, Zillah,\u201d I replied, flinging myself on to the floor, and rapidly resuming my garments. \u201cI should not care if you did, Mr. Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted, at my expense. Well, it is\u2014swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason in shutting it up, I assure you. No one will thank you for a doze in such a den!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d asked Heathcliff, \u201cand what are you doing? Lie down and finish out the night, since you are<\/em> here; but, for heaven\u2019s sake! don\u2019t repeat that horrid noise. Nothing could excuse it, unless you were having your throat cut!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have strangled me!\u201d I returned. \u201cI\u2019m not going to endure the persecutions of your hospitable ancestors again. Was not the Reverend Jabes Branderham akin to you on the mother\u2019s side? And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called\u2014she must have been a changeling8<\/a><\/sup>\u2014wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I\u2019ve no doubt!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Scarcely were these words uttered, when I recollected the association of Heathcliff\u2019s with Catherine\u2019s name in the book, which had completely slipped from my memory till thus awakened. I blushed at my inconsideration; but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, I hastened to add\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe truth is, sir, I passed the first part of the night in\u2014\u201d here, I stopped afresh\u2014I was about to say \u201cperusing those old volumes;\u201d then it would have revealed my knowledge of their written, as well as their printed contents; so, correcting myself, I went on\u2014\u201cin spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge. A monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like counting, or\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat can<\/em> you mean by talking in this way to me<\/em>!\u201dthundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. \u201cHow\u2014how dare<\/em> you, under my roof\u2014God! he\u2019s mad to speak so!\u201d And he struck his forehead with rage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I did not know whether to resent this language, or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams, affirming I had never heard the appellation of \u201cCatherine Linton\u201d before, but reading it often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed as I spoke, finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an access of violent emotion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not liking to show him that I heard the conflict, I continued my toilette rather noisily, looked at my watch, and soliloquized on the length of the night\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot three o\u2019clock yet! I could have taken oath it had been six. Time stagnates here\u2014we must surely have retired to rest at eight!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAlways at nine in winter, and always rise at four,\u201d said my host, suppressing a groan, and, as I fancied, by the motion of his shadow\u2019s arm, dashing a tear from his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMr. Lockwood,\u201d he added, \u201cyou may go into my room; you\u2019ll only be in the way, coming downstairs so early; and your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd for me, too,\u201d I replied. \u201cI\u2019ll walk in the yard till daylight, and then I\u2019ll be off; and you need not dread a repetition of my intrusion. I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDelightful company!\u201d muttered Heathcliff. \u201cTake the candle, and go where you please. I shall join you directly. Keep out of the yard, though; the dogs are unchained, and the house\u2014Juno mounts sentinel there, and\u2014nay, you can only ramble about the steps and passages\u2014but, away with you! I\u2019ll come in two minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I obeyed, so far as to quit the chamber; when, ignorant where the narrow lobbies led, I stood still, and was witness, involuntarily, to a piece of superstition on the part of my landlord, which belied, oddly, his apparent sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He got on to the bed and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome in! come in!\u201d he sobbed. \u201cCathy, do come. Oh, do\u2014once<\/em> more! Oh! my heart\u2019s darling, hear me this<\/em> time\u2014Catherine, at last!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The spectre showed a spectre\u2019s ordinary caprice; it gave no sign of being; but the snow and wind whirled wildly through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony, though why<\/em>, was beyond my comprehension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I descended cautiously to the lower regions and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of fire, raked compactly together, enabled me to rekindle my candle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing was stirring except a brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes and saluted me with a querulous mew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth; on one of these I stretched myself, and Grimalkin9<\/a><\/sup> mounted the other. We were both of us nodding, ere any one invaded our retreat; and then it was Joseph shuffling down a wooden ladder that vanished in the roof, through a trap: the ascent to his garret, I suppose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He cast a sinister look at the little flame which I had enticed to play between the ribs, swept the cat from its elevation, and bestowing himself in the vacancy, commenced the operation of stuffing a three-inch pipe with tobacco; my presence in his sanctum was evidently esteemed a piece of impudence too shameful for remark. He silently applied the tube to his lips, folded his arms, and puffed away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I let him enjoy the luxury, unannoyed; and after sucking out the last wreath, and heaving a profound sigh, he got up, and departed as solemnly as he came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A more elastic footstep entered next, and now I opened my mouth for a \u201cgood morning,\u201d but closed it again, the salutation unachieved; for Hareton Earnshaw was performing his orisons, sotto voce<\/em>, in a series of curses directed against every object he touched, while he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig through the drifts. He glanced over the back of the bench, dilating his nostrils, and thought as little of exchanging civilities with me as with my companion, the cat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I guessed by his preparations that egress was allowed, and leaving my hard couch, made a movement to follow him. He noticed this, and thrust at an inner door with the end of his spade, intimating by an inarticulate sound, that there was the place where I must go, if I changed my locality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It opened into the house, where the females were already astir, Zillah, urging flakes of flame up the chimney with a colossal bellows, and Mrs. Heathcliff, kneeling on the hearth, reading a book by the aid of the blaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She held her hand interposed between the furnace-heat and her eyes, and seemed absorbed in her occupation; desisting from it only to chide the servant for covering her with sparks, or to push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose over-forwardly into her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. He stood by the fire, his back towards me, just finishing a stormy scene to poor Zillah, who ever and anon interrupted her labour to pluck up the corner of her apron, and heave an indignant groan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd you, you worthless\u2014\u201d he broke out as I entered, turning to his daughter-in-law, and employing an epithet as harmless as duck, or sheep, but generally represented by a dash10<\/a><\/sup>\u2014\u201cthere you are at your idle tricks again! The rest of them do earn their bread\u2014you live on my charity! Put your trash away, and find something to do. You shall pay me for the plague of having you eternally in my sight\u2014do you hear, damnable jade?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll put my trash away, because you can make me, if I refuse,\u201d answered the young lady, closing her book, and throwing it on a chair. \u201cBut I\u2019ll not do anything, though you should swear your tongue out, except what I please!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Heathcliff lifted his hand, and the speaker sprang to a safer distance, obviously acquainted with its weight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Having no desire to be entertained by a cat-and-dog combat, I stepped forward briskly, as if eager to partake the warmth of the hearth, and innocent of any knowledge of the interrupted dispute. Each had enough decorum to suspend further hostilities: Heathcliff placed his fists, out of temptation, in his pockets; Mrs. Heathcliff curled her lip and walked to a seat far off, where she kept her word by playing the part of a statue during the remainder of my stay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was not long. I declined joining their breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, took an opportunity of escaping into the free air, now clear and still, and cold as impalpable ice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My landlord hallooed for me to stop, ere I reached the bottom of the garden, and offered to accompany me across the moor. It was well he did, for the whole hill-back was one billowy, white ocean, the swells and falls not indicating corresponding rises and depressions in the ground: many pits, at least, were filled to a level; and entire ranges of mounds, the refuse of the quarries, blotted from the chart which my yesterday\u2019s walk left pictured in my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I had remarked on one side of the road, at intervals of six or seven yards, a line of upright stones, continued through the whole length of the barren11<\/a><\/sup>: these were erected, and daubed with lime, on purpose to serve as guides in the dark, and also, when a fall, like the present, confounded the deep swamps on either hand with the firmer path: but, excepting a dirty dot pointing up here and there, all traces of their existence had vanished; and my companion found it necessary to warn me frequently to steer to the right or left, when I imagined I was following, correctly, the windings of the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We exchanged little conversation, and he halted at the entrance of Thrushcross park, saying, I could make no error there. Our adieux were limited to a hasty bow, and then I pushed forward, trusting to my own resources, for the porter\u2019s lodge is untenanted as yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The distance from the gate to the Grange is two miles: I believe I managed to make it four, what with losing myself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in snow, a predicament which only those who have experienced it can appreciate. At any rate, whatever were my wanderings, the clock chimed twelve as I entered the house; and that gave exactly an hour for every mile of the usual way from Wuthering Heights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My human fixture and her satellites rushed to welcome me; exclaiming, tumultuously, they had completely given me up: everybody conjectured that I perished last night; and they were wondering how they must set about the search for my remains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I bid them be quiet, now that they saw me returned, and, benumbed to my very heart, I dragged upstairs, whence, after putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or forty minutes, to restore the animal heat, I am adjourned to my study, feeble as a kitten, almost too much so to enjoy the cheerful fire and smoking coffee which the servant has prepared for my refreshment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1.<\/a>\u2005A cupboard in which clothes are kept folded on shelves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 2.<\/a>\u2005\u201cThe master not but just buried, and Sabbath not over, and the sound of the gospel still in your ears, and you dare be playing! shame on you! sit down, bad children! there\u2019s good books enough if you\u2019ll read them; sit yourselves down, and think of your souls!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n 3.<\/a>\u2005The back cover or spine (OED<\/em> notes that Bront\u00eb\u2019s usage may be a mistake for \u201cscruff\u201d).<\/p>\n\n\n\n 4.<\/a>\u2005\u201cMiss Cathy\u2019s torn the back off \u2026 and Heathcliff\u2019s kicked his feet into the first part of \u2026! It\u2019s just dreadful of you to let them go on in this way. Ech! The old man would have thrashed them properly\u2014but he\u2019s gone!\u201d The damage is to apparently fictionally titled tracts of the sort fit for Sunday reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 5.<\/a>\u2005The Devil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 6.<\/a>\u2005Matthew 18:21\u201335 is the text Branderham exploits by relishing his deferred opportunity for retribution. Christ\u2019s words, when asked about forgiveness, were \u201cI will not say unto thee, Until seven times seven: but, Until seven times seventy.\u201d As Bront\u00eb\u2019s satire makes clear, to depart from forgiveness on the 491st sin goes against the spirit of Jesus\u2019s teaching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 7.<\/a>\u2005Imaginary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 8.<\/a>\u2005A child (usually wicked, ugly, or stupid) left to replace one stolen by fairies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 9.<\/a>\u2005A name for a cat, particularly an old female cat (such as the witches\u2019 cat, Graymalkin, in Macbeth<\/em>\u2014a play Bront\u00eb alludes to also in her poems).<\/p>\n\n\n\n 10.<\/a>\u2005He is referring to the convention of leaving parts of offensive terms blank (b_____h). In her preface to the 1850 WH<\/em>, Charlotte Bront\u00eb noted Emily\u2019s frankness: \u201cA large class of readers \u2026 will suffer greatly from the introduction of words printed with all their letters, which it has become the custom to represent by the initial and final letter only\u2014a blank line filling the interval.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n 11.<\/a>\u2005An expanse of barren land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What vain weather-cocks we are! I, who had determined to hold myself independent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, I had lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable\u2014I, weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits and solitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours;1<\/a><\/sup> and, under pretence of gaining information concerning the necessities of my establishment, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it, hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation, or lull me to sleep by her talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou have lived here a considerable time,\u201d I commenced; \u201cdid you not say sixteen years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEighteen, sir; I came, when the mistress was married, to wait on her; after she died, the master retained me for his house-keeper.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIndeed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There ensued a pause. She was not a gossip, I feared, unless about her own affairs, and those could hardly interest me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n However, having studied for an interval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAh, times are greatly changed since then!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes,\u201d I remarked, \u201cyou\u2019ve seen a good many alterations, I suppose?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI have: and troubles too,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, I\u2019ll turn the talk on my landlord\u2019s family!\u201d I thought to myself. \u201cA good subject to start\u2014and that pretty girl-widow, I should like to know her history: whether she be a native of the country, or, as is more probable, an exotic that the surly indigenae<\/em>2<\/a><\/sup> will not recognise for kin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n With this intention I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff let Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation and residence so much inferior.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?\u201d I enquired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRich, sir!\u201d she returned. \u201cHe has, nobody knows what money, and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he\u2019s rich enough to live in a finer house than this, but he\u2019s very near\u2014close-handed; and, if he had meant to flit to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenant he could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe had a son, it seems?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, he had one\u2014he is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd that young lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere did she come from originally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy, sir, she is my late master\u2019s daughter; Catherine Linton was her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing! I did wish Mr. Heathcliff would remove here, and then we might have been together again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat, Catherine Linton!\u201d I exclaimed, astonished. But a minute\u2019s reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine. \u201cThen,\u201d I continued, \u201cmy predecessor\u2019s name was Linton?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd who is that Earnshaw, Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr. Heathcliff? are they relations?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo; he is the late Mrs. Linton\u2019s nephew.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe young lady\u2019s cousin, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes; and her husband was her cousin also\u2014one, on the mother\u2019s\u2014the other, on the father\u2019s side. Heathcliff married Mr. Linton\u2019s sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI see the house at Wuthering Heights has \u2018Earnshaw\u2019 carved over the front door. Are they an old family?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cVery old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us\u2014I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights? I beg pardon for asking; but I should like to hear how she is!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMrs. Heathcliff? She looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think, not very happy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh dear, I don\u2019t wonder! And how did you like the master?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRough as a saw-edge, and hard as whinstone! The less you meddle with him the better.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe must have had some ups and downs in life to make him such a churl. Do you know anything of his history?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s a cuckoo\u2019s,3<\/a><\/sup> sir\u2014I know all about it, except where he was born, and who were his parents, and how he got his money, at first. And Hareton has been cast out like an unfledged dunnock!4<\/a><\/sup> The unfortunate lad is the only one, in all this parish, that does not guess how he has been cheated!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, Mrs. Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours\u2014I feel I shall not rest, if I go to bed; so, be good enough to sit and chat an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, certainly, sir! I\u2019ll just fetch a little sewing, and then I\u2019ll sit as long as you please. But you\u2019ve caught cold; I saw you shivering, and you must have some gruel to drive it out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The worthy woman bustled off; and I crouched nearer the fire; my head felt hot, and the rest of me chill: moreover, I was excited, almost to a pitch of foolishness, through my nerves and brain. This caused me to feel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful, as I am still, of serious effects from the incidents of today and yesterday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She returned presently, bringing a smoking basin, and a basket of work; and, having placed the former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently pleased to find me so companionable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before I came to live here, she commenced, waiting no further invitation to her story, I was almost always at Wuthering Heights, because my mother had nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton\u2019s father, and I got used to playing with the children. I ran errands too, and helped to make hay, and hung about the farm ready for anything that anybody would set me to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One fine summer morning\u2014it was the beginning of harvest, I remember\u2014Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came downstairs, dressed for a journey; and, after he had told Joseph what was to be done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me\u2014for I sat eating my porridge with them\u2014and he said, speaking to his son\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow, my bonny man, I\u2019m going to Liverpool, today. What shall I bring you? You may choose what you like; only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back; sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hindley named a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she was hardly six years old, but she could ride any horse in the stable, and she chose a whip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He did not forget me, for he had a kind heart, though he was rather severe, sometimes. He promised to bring me a pocketful of apples and pears, and then he kissed his children good-bye, and set off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It seemed a long while to us all\u2014the three days of his absence\u2014and often did little Cathy ask when he would be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time, on the third evening; and she put the meal off hour after hour; there were no signs of his coming, however, and at last the children got tired of running down to the gate to look. Then it grew dark; she would have had them to bed, but they begged sadly to be allowed to stay up; and, just about eleven o\u2019clock, the door-latch was raised quietly and in stept the master. He threw himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for he was nearly killed\u2014he would not have such another walk for the three kingdoms.5<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd at the end of it, to be flighted6<\/a><\/sup> to death!\u201d he said, opening his great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms, \u201cSee here, wife; I was never so beaten7<\/a><\/sup> with anything in my life; but you must e\u2019en take it as a gift of God, though it\u2019s as dark almost as if it came from the devil.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We crowded round, and, over Miss Cathy\u2019s head, I had a peep at a dirty, ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk\u2014indeed, its face looked older than Catherine\u2019s\u2014yet, when it was set on its feet, it only stared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors: she did fly up\u2014asking how he could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether he were mad?<\/p>\n\n\n\n The master tried to explain the matter; but he was really half dead with fatigue, and all that I could make out, amongst her scolding, was a tale of his seeing it starving, and houseless, and as good as dumb in the streets of Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Not a soul knew to whom it belonged, he said, and his money and time being both limited, he thought it better to take it home with him at once, than run into vain expenses there; because he was determined he would not leave it as he found it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Well, the conclusion was that my mistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with the children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening till peace was restored; then, both began searching their father\u2019s pockets for the presents he had promised them. The former was a boy of fourteen, but when he drew out what had been a fiddle, crushed to morsels in the great-coat, he blubbered aloud, and Cathy, when she learnt the master had lost her whip in attending on the stranger, showed her humour8<\/a><\/sup> by grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing, earning for her pains a sound blow from her father to teach her cleaner manners.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room, and I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping it might be gone on the morrow. By chance, or else attracted by hearing his voice, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw\u2019s door and there he found it on quitting his chamber. Inquiries were made as to how it got there; I was obliged to confess, and in recompense for my cowardice and inhumanity was sent out of the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This was Heathcliff\u2019s first introduction to the family. On coming back a few days afterwards, for I did not consider my banishment perpetual, I found they had christened him \u201cHeathcliff\u201d; it was the name of a son who died in childhood, and it has served him ever since, both for Christian and surname.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Miss Cathy and he were now very thick; but Hindley hated him, and to say the truth I did the same; and we plagued and went on with him shamefully, for I wasn\u2019t reasonable enough to feel my injustice, and the mistress never put in a word on his behalf when she saw him wronged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He seemed a sullen, patient child, hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment: he would stand Hindley\u2019s blows without winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved him only to draw in a breath, and open his eyes as if he had hurt himself by accident, and nobody was to blame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This endurance made old Earnshaw furious when he discovered his son persecuting the poor, fatherless child, as he called him. He took to Heathcliff strangely, believing all he said (for that matter, he said precious little, and generally the truth) and petting him up far above Cathy, who was too mischievous and wayward for a favourite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, from the very beginning, he bred bad feeling in the house; and at Mrs. Earnshaw\u2019s death, which happened in less than two years after, the young master had learnt to regard his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent\u2019s affections and his privileges, and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sympathised a while, but, when the children fell ill of the measles and I had to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at once, I changed my ideas. Heathcliff was dangerously sick, and while he lay at the worst he would have me constantly by his pillow; I suppose he felt I did a good deal for him, and he hadn\u2019t wit to guess that I was compelled to do it. However, I will say this, he was the quietest child that ever nurse watched over. The difference between him and the others forced me to be less partial. Cathy and her brother harassed me terribly; he<\/em> was as uncomplaining as a lamb, though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He got through, and the doctor affirmed it was in a great measure owing to me, and praised me for my care. I was vain of his commendations, and softened towards the being by whose means I earned them, and thus Hindley lost his last ally; still I couldn\u2019t dote on Heathcliff, and I wondered often what my master saw to admire so much in the sullen boy who never, to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of gratitude. He was not insolent to his benefactor; he was simply insensible, though knowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart, and conscious he had only to speak and all the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As an instance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw once bought a couple of colts at the parish fair, and gave the lads each one. Heathcliff took the handsomest, but it soon fell lame, and when he discovered it, he said to Hindley\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou must exchange horses with me; I don\u2019t like mine, and if you won\u2019t I shall tell your father of the three thrashings you\u2019ve given me this week, and show him my arm, which is black to the shoulder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hindley put out his tongue, and cuffed him over the ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019d better do it at once,\u201d he persisted, escaping to the porch (they were in the stable); \u201cyou will have to, and if I speak of these blows, you\u2019ll get them again with interest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOff, dog!\u201d cried Hindley, threatening him with an iron weight, used for weighing potatoes and hay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThrow it,\u201d he replied, standing still, \u201cand then I\u2019ll tell how you boasted that you would turn me out of doors as soon as he died, and see whether he will not turn you out directly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hindley threw it, hitting him on the breast, and down he fell, but staggered up immediately, breathless and white, and had not I prevented it he would have gone just so to the master, and got full revenge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating who had caused it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTake my colt, gipsy, then!\u201d said young Earnshaw. \u201cAnd I pray that he may break your neck; take him, and be damned, you beggarly interloper! and wheedle my father out of all he has, only afterwards show him what you are, imp of Satan\u2014And take that, I hope he\u2019ll kick out your brains!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Heathcliff had gone to loose the beast, and shift it to his own stall. He was passing behind it, when Hindley finished his speech by knocking him under its feet, and without stopping to examine whether his hopes were fulfilled, ran away as fast as he could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was surprised to witness how coolly the child gathered himself up, and went on with his intention, exchanging saddles and all, and then sitting down on a bundle of hay to overcome the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, before he entered the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I persuaded him easily to let me lay the blame of his bruises on the horse; he minded little what tale was told since he had what he wanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of such stirs as these, that I really thought him not vindictive\u2014I was deceived completely, as you will hear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1.<\/a>\u2005A military and nautical term that refers to lowering the flag (\u201ccolours\u201d) as a sign of surrender.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 2.<\/a>\u2005Natives of the country.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 3.<\/a>\u2005The reference is to the cuckoo\u2019s practice of laying its eggs in other birds\u2019 nests (a way of characterizing Heathcliff as an interloper).<\/p>\n\n\n\n 4.<\/a>\u2005Hedge-sparrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 5.<\/a>\u2005England, Ireland, and Scotland.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 6.<\/a>\u2005Frightened (as if by a noise\u2014possibly that of scolding).<\/p>\n\n\n\n 7.<\/a>\u2005Exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 8.<\/a>\u2005Bad mood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the course of time, Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly; and when he was confined to the chimney-corner he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed him, and suspected slights of his authority nearly threw him into fits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This was especially to be remarked if any one attempted to impose upon, or domineer over, his favourite: he was painfully jealous lest a word should be spoken amiss to him, seeming to have got into his head the notion that, because he liked Heathcliff, all hated, and longed to do him an ill-turn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a disadvantage to the lad, for the kinder among us did not wish to fret the master, so we humoured his partiality; and that humouring was rich nourishment to the child\u2019s pride and black tempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice, or thrice, Hindley\u2019s manifestations of scorn, while his father was near, roused the old man to a fury. He seized his stick to strike him, and shook with rage that he could not do it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At last, our curate (we had a curate then who made the living answer1<\/a><\/sup> by teaching the little Lintons and Earnshaws, and farming his bit of land himself)\u2014he advised that the young man should be sent to college, and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHindley was naught, and would never thrive as where he wandered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt me to think the master should be made uncomfortable by his own good deed. I fancied the discontent of age and disease arose from his family disagreements, as he would have it that it did; really, you know, sir, it was in his sinking frame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We might have got on tolerably, notwithstanding, but for two people, Miss Cathy and Joseph, the servant; you saw him, I dare say, up yonder. He was, and is yet, most likely, the wearisomest, self-righteous pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to rake the promises to himself, and fling the curses on his neighbours. By his knack of sermonizing and pious discoursing, he contrived to make a great impression on Mr. Earnshaw, and the more feeble the master became, the more influence he gained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He was relentless in worrying him about his soul\u2019s concerns, and about ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged him to regard Hindley as a reprobate; and, night after night, he regularly grumbled out a long string of tales against Heathcliff and Catherine; always minding to flatter Earnshaw\u2019s weakness by heaping the heaviest blame on the last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Certainly, she had ways with her such as I never saw a child take up before; and she put all of us past our patience fifty times and oftener in a day: from the hour she came downstairs, till the hour she went to bed, we had not a minute\u2019s security that she wouldn\u2019t be in mischief. Her spirits were always at high-water mark, her tongue always going\u2014singing, laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do the same. A wild, wick2<\/a><\/sup> slip she was\u2014but she had the bonniest eye, and sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish; and, after all, I believe she meant no harm; for when once she made you cry in good earnest, it seldom happened that she would not keep you company, and oblige you to be quiet that you might comfort her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him: yet she got chided more than any of us on his account.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In play, she liked, exceedingly, to act the little mistress; using her hands freely, and commanding her companions: she did so to me, but I would not bear slapping and ordering; and so I let her know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, Mr. Earnshaw did not understand jokes from his children: he had always been strict and grave with them; and Catherine, on her part, had no idea why her father should be crosser and less patient in his ailing condition, than he was in his prime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him; she was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words; turning Joseph\u2019s religious curses into ridicule, baiting me, and doing just what her father hated most, showing how her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness; how the boy would do her<\/em> bidding in anything, and his<\/em> only when it suited his own inclination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After behaving as badly as possible all day, she sometimes came fondling to make it up at night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNay, Cathy,\u201d the old man would say, \u201cI cannot love thee; thou\u2019rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God\u2019s pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That made her cry, at first; and then, being repulsed continually hardened her, and she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the hour came, at last, that ended Mr. Earnshaw\u2019s troubles on earth. He died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by the fire-side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A high wind blustered round the house, and roared in the chimney: it sounded wild and stormy, yet it was not cold, and we were all together\u2014I, a little removed from the hearth, busy at my knitting, and Joseph reading his Bible near the table (for the servants generally sat in the house then, after their work was done). Miss Cathy had been sick, and that made her still; she leant against her father\u2019s knee, and Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remember the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair\u2014it pleased him rarely3<\/a><\/sup> to see her gentle\u2014and saying\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy cannot you always be a good man, father?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But as soon as she saw him vexed again, she kissed his hand, and said she would sing him to sleep. She began singing very low, till his fingers dropped from hers, and his head sank on his breast. Then I told her to hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake him. We all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour, and should have done so longer, only Joseph, having finished his chapter, got up and said that he must rouse the master for prayers and bed. He stepped forward, and called him by name, and touched his shoulder, but he would not move\u2014so he took the candle and looked at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought there was something wrong as he set down the light; and seizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to \u201cframe4<\/a><\/sup> upstairs, and make little din\u2014they might pray alone that evening\u2014he had summut to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI shall bid father good-night first,\u201d said Catherine, putting her arms round his neck, before we could hinder her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The poor thing discovered her loss directly\u2014she screamed out\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, he\u2019s dead, Heathcliff! he\u2019s dead!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what we could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He told me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor and the parson. I could not guess the use that either would be of, then. However, I went, through wind and rain, and brought one, the doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in the morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children\u2019s room; their door was ajar, I saw they had never laid down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than I could have hit on; no parson in the world ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk; and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishing we were all there safe together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1.<\/a>\u2005Made ends meet (he teaches and farms to supplement his clerical income).<\/p>\n\n\n\n 2.<\/a>\u2005North England variant of quick (lively); OED<\/em> cites it in Elizabeth Gaskell\u2019s Mary Barton<\/em> (1848).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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\n\n\n\nChapter IV<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nChapter V<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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