For two months the fugitives remained absent; in those two months, Mrs Linton encountered and conquered the worst shock of what was denominated a brain fever. No mother could have nursed an only child more devotedly than Edgar tended her. Day and night, he was watching, and patiently enduring all the annoyances that irritable nerves and a shaken reason could inflict: and, though Kenneth remarked that what he saved from the grave would only recompense his care by forming the source of constant future anxiety, in fact, that his health and strength were being sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin of humanity, he knew no limits in gratitude and joy, when Catherine’s life was declared out of danger; and hour after hour, he would sit beside her, tracing the gradual return to bodily health, and flattering his too sanguine hopes with the illusion that her mind would settle back to its right balance also, and she would soon be entirely her former self.
The first time she left her chamber, was at the commencement of the following March. Mr Linton had put on her pillow, in the morning, a handful of golden crocuses;1 her eye, long stranger to any gleam of pleasure, caught them in waking, and shone delighted as she gathered them eagerly together.
‘These are the earliest flowers at the Heights!’ she exclaimed. ‘They remind me of soft thaw winds, and warm sunshine, and nearly melted snow – Edgar, is there not a south wind, and is not the snow almost gone?’
‘The snow is quite gone down here, darling!’ replied her husband, ‘and I only see two white spots on the whole range of moors – The sky is blue, and the larks are singing, and the becks and brooks are all brim full.
Catherine, last spring at this time, I was longing to have you under this roof – now, I wish you were a mile or two up those hills: the air blows so sweetly, I feel that it would cure you.’
‘I shall never be there, but once more!’ said the invalid; ‘and then you’ll leave me, and I shall remain, for ever. Next spring you’ll long again to have me under this roof, and you’ll look back and think you were happy to-day.’
Linton lavished on her the kindest caresses, and tried to cheer her by the fondest words, but, vaguely regarding the flowers, she let the tears collect on her lashes and stream down her cheeks unheeding.
We knew she was really better, and, therefore, decided that long confinement to a single place produced much of this despondency, and it might be partially removed by a change of scene.
The master told me to light a fire in the many-weeks deserted parlour, and to set an easy-chair in the sunshine by the window; and then he brought her down, and she sat a long while enjoying the genial heat, and, as we expected, revived by the objects round her, which, though familiar, were free from the dreary associations investing her hated sick-chamber. By evening, she seemed greatly exhausted; yet no arguments could persuade her to return to that apartment, and I had to arrange the parlour sofa for her bed, till another room could be prepared.
To obviate the fatigue of mounting and descending the stairs, we fitted up this, where you lie at present, on the same floor with the parlour: and she was soon strong enough to move from one to the other, leaning on Edgar’s arm.
Ah, I thought myself, she might recover, so waited on as she was. And there was double cause to desire it, for on her existence depended that of another; we cherished the hope that in a little while, Mr Linton’s heart would be gladdened, and his lands secured from a stranger’s gripe, by the birth of an heir.
I should mention that Isabella sent to her brother, some six weeks from her departure, a short note announcing her marriage with Heathcliff. It appeared dry and cold; but at the bottom, was dotted in with pencil, an obscure apology, and an entreaty for kind remembrance, and reconciliation, if her proceeding had offended him; asserting that she could not help it then, and being done, she had now no power to repeal it.
Linton did not reply to this, I believe; and, in a fortnight more, I got a long letter which I considered odd coming from the pen of a bride just out of the honeymoon. I’ll read it, for I keep it yet. Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.
DEAR ELLEN, it begins.
I came last night to Wuthering Heights, and heard, for the first time, that Catherine has been, and is yet, very ill. I must not write to her, I suppose, and my brother is either too angry or too distressed to answer what I send him. Still, I must write to somebody, and the only choice left me is you.
Inform Edgar that I’d give the world to see his face again – that my heart returned to Thrushcross Grange in twenty-four hours after I left it, and is there at this moment, full of warm feelings for him, and Catherine! I can’t follow it, though – (those words are underlined) – they need not expect me, and they may draw what conclusions they please; taking care, however, to lay nothing at the door of my weak will, or deficient affection.
The remainder of the letter is for yourself, alone. I want to ask you two questions: the first is,
How did you contrive to preserve the common sympathies of human nature when you resided here? I cannot recognise any sentiment which those around share with me.
The second question, I have great interest in; it is this –
Is Mr Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? I shan’t tell my reasons for making this inquiry; but, I beseech you to explain, if you can, what I have married – that is, when you call to see me; and you must call, Ellen, very soon. Don’t write, but come, and bring me something from Edgar.
Now, you shall hear how I have been received in my new home, as I am led to imagine the Heights will be. It is to amuse myself that I dwell on such subjects as the lack of external comforts; they never occupy my thoughts, except at the moment when I miss them – I should laugh and dance for joy, if I found their absence was the total of my miseries, and the rest was an unnatural dream!
The sun set behind the Grange, as we turned on to the moors; by that, I judged it to be six o’clock; and my companion halted half-an-hour, to inspect the park, and the gardens, and, probably, the place itself, as well as he could; so it was dark when we dismounted in the paved yard of the farm- house, and your old fellow-servant, Joseph, issued out to receive us by the light of a dip candle. He did it with a courtesy that redounded to his credit. His first act was to elevate his torch to a level with my face, squint malignantly, project his under lip, and turn away.
Then he took the two horses, and led them into the stables; reappearing for the purpose of locking the outer gate, as if we lived in an ancient castle.
Heathcliff stayed to speak to him, and I entered the kitchen – a dingy, untidy hole; I dare say you would not know it, it is so changed since it was in your charge.
By the fire stood a ruffianly child, strong in limb, and dirty in garb, with a look of Catherine in his eyes, and about his mouth.
‘This is Edgar’s legal nephew,’ I reflected – ‘mine in a manner; I must shake hands, and – yes – I must kiss him. It is right to establish a good understanding at the beginning.’
I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said – ‘How do you do, my dear?’
He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.
‘Shall you and I be friends, Hareton?’ was my next essay at conversation.
An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not ‘frame off,’ rewarded my perseverance.
‘Hey, Throttler, lad!’ whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred bull-dog from its lair in a corner. ‘Now, wilt tuh be ganging?’ he asked authoritatively.
Love for my life urged a compliance; I stepped over the threshold to wait till the others should enter Mr Heathcliff was nowhere visible; and Joseph,
whom I followed to the stables, and requested to accompany me in, after staring and muttering to himself, screwed up his nose and replied –
‘Mim! mim! mim!2 Did iver Christian body hear owt like it? Minching un’ munching!3 Hah can Aw tell whet ye say?’
‘I say, I wish you to come with me into the house!’ I cried, thinking him deaf, yet highly disgusted at his rudeness.
‘Nor nuh me! Aw getten summut else to do,’ he answered, and continued his work, moving his lantern jaws meanwhile, and surveying my dress and countenance (the former a great deal too fine, but the latter, I’m sure, as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.
I walked round the yard, and through a wicket, to another door, at which I took the liberty of knocking, in hopes some more civil servant might show himself.
After a short suspense it was opened by a tall, gaunt man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly; his features were lost in masses of shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders; and his eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine’s, with all their beauty annihilated.
‘What’s your business here?’ he demanded, grimly. ‘Who are you?’ ‘My name was Isabella Linton,’ I replied. ‘You’ve seen me before, sir.
I’m lately married to Mr Heathcliff, and he has brought me here – I suppose
by your permission.’
‘Is he come back, then?’ asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry wolf. ‘Yes – we came just now,’ I said; ‘but he left me by the kitchen door; and
when I would have gone in, your little boy played sentinel over the place,
and frightened me off by the help of a bull-dog.’
‘It’s well the hellish villain has kept his word!’ growled my future host, searching the darkness beyond me in expectation of discovering Heathcliff; and then he indulged in a soliloquy of execrations, and threats of what he would have done had the ‘fiend’ deceived him.
I repented having tried this second entrance; and was almost inclined to slip away before he finished cursing, but ere I could execute that intention,
he ordered me in, and shut and re-fastened the door.
There was a great fire, and that was all the light in the huge apartment, whose floor had grown a uniform grey; and the once brilliant pewter dishes which used to attract my gaze when I was a girl partook of a similar obscurity, created by tarnish and dust.
I inquired whether I might call the maid, and be conducted to a bed- room? Mr Earnshaw vouchsafed no answer. He walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets, apparently quite forgetting my presence; and his abstraction was evidently so deep, and his whole aspect so misanthropical, that I shrank from disturbing him again.
You’ll not be surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless, seated in worse than solitude, on that inhospitable hearth, and remembering that four miles distant lay my delightful home, containing the only people I loved on earth: and there might as well be the Atlantic to part us, instead of those four miles, I could not overpass them!
I questioned with myself – where must I turn for comfort? and – mind you don’t tell Edgar, or Catherine – above every sorrow beside, this rose pre-eminent – despair at finding nobody who could or would be my ally against Heathcliff!
I had sought shelter at Wuthering Heights, almost gladly, because I was secured by that arrangement from living alone with him; but he knew the people we were coming amongst, and he did not fear their intermeddling.
I sat and thought a doleful time; the clock struck eight, and nine, and still my companion paced to and fro, his head bent on his breast, and perfectly silent, unless a groan, or a bitter ejaculation forced itself out at intervals.
I listened to detect a woman’s voice in the house, and filled the interim with wild regrets, and dismal anticipations, which, at last, spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing, and weeping.
I was not aware how openly I grieved, till Earnshaw halted opposite, in his measured walk, and gave me a stare of newly awakened surprise. Taking advantage of his recovered attention, I exclaimed –
‘I’m tired with my journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maid- servant? Direct me to her, as she won’t come to me!’
‘We have none,’ he answered; ‘you must wait on yourself!’
‘Where must I sleep, then?’ I sobbed – I was beyond regarding self- respect, weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness.
‘Joseph will show you Heathcliff’s chamber,’ said he; ‘open that door – he’s in there.’
I was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the strangest tone –
‘Be so good as to turn your lock, and draw your bolt – don’t omit it!’ ‘Well!’ I said. ‘But why, Mr Earnshaw?’ I did not relish the notion of
deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.
‘Look here!’ he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a curiously constructed pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached to the barrel. ‘That’s a great tempter to a desperate man, is it not? I cannot resist going up with this, every night, and trying his door. If once I find it open, he’s done for! I do it invariably, even though the minute before I have been recalling a hundred reasons that should make me refrain – it is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by killing him – you fight against that devil, for love, as long as you may; when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him!’
I surveyed the weapon inquisitively; a hideous notion struck me. How powerful I should be possessing such an instrument! I took it from his hand, and touched the blade. He looked astonished at the expression my face assumed during a brief second. It was not horror, it was covetousness. He snatched the pistol back, jealously; shut the knife, and returned it to its concealment.
‘I don’t care if you tell him,’ said he. ‘Put him on his guard, and watch for him. You know the terms we are on, I see; his danger does not shock you.’
‘What has Heathcliff done to you?’ I asked. ‘In what has he wronged you to warrant this appalling hatred? Wouldn’t it be wiser to bid him quit the house?’
‘No,’ thundered Earnshaw, ‘should he offer to leave me, he’s a dead man, persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess! Am I to lose all, without a chance of retrieval? Is Hareton to be a beggar? Oh, damnation! I will have it back; and I’ll have his gold too; and then his blood; and hell shall have his soul! It will be ten times blacker with that guest than ever it was before!’
You’ve acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master’s habits. He is clearly on the verge of madness – he was so, last night, at least. I shuddered to be near him, and thought on the servant’s ill-bred moroseness as comparatively agreeable.
He now recommenced his moody walk, and I raised the latch, and escaped into the kitchen.
Joseph was bending over the fire, peering into a large pan that swung above it; and a wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on the settle close by. The contents of the pan began to boil, and he turned to plunge his hand into the bowl; I conjectured that this preparation was probably for our supper, and being hungry, I resolved it should be eatable – so crying out sharply, ‘I’ll make the porridge!’ – I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding habit. ‘Mr Earnshaw,’ I continued, ‘directs me to wait on myself – I will – I’m not going to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve.’
‘Gooid Lord!’ he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed stockings from the knee to the ankle. ‘If they’s tuh be fresh ortherings – just when Aw getten used tuh two maisters, if Aw mun hev a mistress set o’er my heead, it’s like time tuh be flitting. Aw niver did think tuh say t’ day ut Aw mud lave th’ owld place – but Aw daht it’s nigh at hend!’
This lamentation drew no notice from me; I went briskly to work; sighing to remember a period when it would have been all merry fun; but compelled speedily to drive off the remembrance. It racked me to recall past
happiness, and the greater peril there was of conjuring up its apparition, the quicker the thible4 ran round, and the faster the handfuls of meal fell into the water.
Joseph beheld my style of cookery with growing indignation.
‘Thear!’ he ejaculated. ‘Hareton, thah willn’t supthy porridge tuh neeght; they’ll be nowt bud lumps as big as maw nave.5 Thear, agean! Aw’d fling in bowl un all, if Aw wer yah! Thear, pale t’ guilp off, un’ then yah’ll hae done wi’t. Bang, bang. It’s a marcy t’bothom isn’t deaved aht!’6
It was rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins; four had been provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was brought from the dairy, which Hareton seized and commenced drinking and spilling from the expansive lip.
I expostulated, and desired that he should have his in a mug; affirming that I could not taste the liquid treated so dirtily. The old cynic chose to be vastly offended at this nicety; assuring me, repeatedly, that ‘the barn was every bit as gooid’ as I, ‘and every bit as wollsome,’ and wondering how I could fashion to be so conceited; meanwhile, the infant ruffian continued sucking; and glowered up at me defyingly, as he slavered into the jug.
‘I shall have my supper in another room,’ I said. ‘Have you no place you call a parlour?’
‘Parlour!’ he echoed, sneeringly, ‘parlour! Nay, we’ve noa parlours. If yah dunnut loike wer company, they’s maister’s; un’ if yah dunnut loike maister, they’s us.’
‘Then I shall go upstairs,’ I answered; ‘shew me a chamber!’
I put my basin on a tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk. With great grumblings, the fellow rose, and preceded me in my ascent:
we mounted to the garrets; he opening a door, now and then, to look into
the apartments we passed.
‘Here’s a rahm,’ he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on hinges. ‘It’s weel eneugh tuh ate a few porridge in. They’s a pack uh corn i’ t’
corner, thear, meeterly7 clane; if yah’re feared uh muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir ut t’ top on’t.’
The ‘rahm’ was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt and grain; various sacks of which articles were piled around, leaving a wide, bare space in the middle.
‘Why, man!’ I exclaimed, facing him angrily, ‘this is not a place to sleep in. I wish to see my bed-room.’
‘Bed-rume!’ he repeated, in a tone of mockery. ‘Yah’s see all t’ bed- rumes thear is – yon’s mine.’
He pointed into the second garret, only differing from the first in being more naked about the walls, and having a large, low, curtainless bed, with an indigo-coloured quilt, at one end.
‘What do I want with yours?’ I retorted. ‘I suppose Mr Heathcliff does not lodge at the top of the house, does he?’
‘Oh! it’s Maister Hathecliff ’s yah’re wenting?’ cried he, as if making a new discovery. ‘Couldn’t ye uh said soa, at onst? un then, Aw mud uh telled ye, baht all this wark, ut that’s just one yah cannut sea – he allas keeps it locked, un nob’dy iver mells on’t8 but hisseln.’
‘You’ve a nice house, Joseph,’ I could not refrain from observing, ‘and pleasant inmates; and I think the concentrated essence of all the madness in the world took upits abode in my brain the day I linked my fate with theirs! However, that is not to the present purpose – there are other rooms. For heaven’s sake, be quick, and let me settle somewhere!’
He made no reply to this adjuration; only plodding doggedly down the wooden steps, and halting before an apartment which, from that halt, and the superior quality of its furniture, I conjectured to be the best one.
There was a carpet, a good one; but the pattern was obliterated by dust; a fire-place hung with cut paper dropping to pieces; a handsome oak-bedstead with ample crimson curtains of rather expensive material, and modern make. But they had evidently experienced rough usage: the valances hung in festoons, wrenched from their rings, and the iron rod supporting them
was bent in an arc, on one side, causing the drapery to trail upon the floor. The chairs were also damaged, many of them severely; and deep indentations deformed the panels of the walls.
I was endeavouring to gather resolution for entering, and taking possession, when my fool of a guide announced –
‘This here is t’ maister’s.’
My supper by this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience exhausted. I insisted on being provided instantly with a place of refuge, and means of repose.
‘Whear the divil,’ began the religious elder. ‘The Lord bless us! The Lord forgie us! Whear the hell, wold ye gang? ye marred, wearisome nowt! Yah seen all bud Hareton’s bit uf a cham’er. They’s nut another hoile tuh lig dahn in i’ th’ hahse!’
I was so vexed, If lung my tray and its contents on the ground; and then seated myself at the stairs-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.
‘Ech! ech!’ exclaimed Joseph. ‘Weel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss Cathy! Hahsiver, t’maister sall just tum’le o’er them brocken pots; un’ then we’s hear summut; we’s hear hah it’s tuh be. Gooid-fur-nowt madling!9 yah desarve pining10 froo this tuh Churstmas, flinging t’ precious gifts uh God under fooit i’ yer flaysome rages! Bud, Aw’m mista’en if yah shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? Aw nobbut wish he muh cotch ye i’ that plisky.11 Aw nobbut wish he may.’
And so he went scolding to his den beneath, taking the candle with him, and I remained in the dark.
The period of reflection succeeding this silly action, compelled me to admit the necessity of smothering my pride, and choking my wrath, and bestirring myself to remove its effects.
An unexpected aid presently appeared in the shape of Throttler, whom I now recognised as a son of our old Skulker; it had spent its whelphood at the Grange, and was given by my father to Mr Hindley. I fancy it knew me – it pushed its nose against mine by way of salute, and then hastened to
devour the porridge, while I groped from step to step, collecting the shattered earthenware, and drying the spatters of milk from the bannister with my pocket-handkerchief.
Our labours were scarcely over when I heard Earnshaw’s tread in the passage; my assistant tucked in his tail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into the nearest doorway. The dog’s endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful; as I guessed by a scutter down stairs, and a prolonged, piteous yelping. I had better luck. He passed on, entered his chamber, and shut the door.
Directly after Joseph came up with Hareton, to put him to bed. I had found shelter in Hareton’s room, and the old man, on seeing me, said –
‘They’s rahm fur boath yah, un yer pride, nah, Aw sud think, i’ th’ hahse. It’s empty; yah muh hev it all tuh yerseln, un Him12 as allas maks a third, i’ sich ill company!’
Gladly did I take advantage of this intimation; and the minute I flung myself into a chair, by the fire, I nodded, and slept.
My slumber was deep, and sweet, though over far too soon. Mr Heathcliff awoke me; he had just come in, and demanded, in his loving manner, what I was doing there?
I told him the cause of my staying up so late – that he had the key of our room in his pocket.
The adjective our gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be mine; and he’d – but I’ll not repeat his language, nor describe his habitual conduct; he is ingenious and unresting in seeking to gain my abhorrence! I sometimes wonder at him with an intensity that deadens my fear; yet, I assure you, a tiger, or a venomous serpent could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he wakens. He told me of Catherine’s illness, and accused my brother of causing it; promising that I should be Edgar’s proxy in suffering, till he could get a hold of him.
I do hate him – I am wretched – I have been a fool! Beware of uttering one breath of this to any one at the Grange. I shall expect you every day – don’t disappoint me!
ISABELLA.
CHAPTER XIV
As soon as I had perused this epistle, I went to the master, and informed him that his sister had arrived at the Heights, and sent me a letter expressing her sorrow for Mrs Linton’s situation, and her ardent desire to see him; with a wish that he would transmit to her, as early as possible, some token of forgiveness by me.
‘Forgiveness?’ said Linton. ‘I have nothing to forgive her, Ellen – you may call at Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you like, and say that I am not angry, but I’m sorry to have lost her: especially as I can never think she’ll be happy. It is out of the question my going to see her, however; we are eternally divided; and should she really wish to oblige me, let her persuade the villain she has married to leave the country.’
‘And you won’t write her a little note, sir?’ I asked, imploringly.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘It is needless. My communication with Heathcliff’s family shall be as sparing as his with mine. It shall not exist!’
Mr Edgar’s coldness depressed me exceedingly; and all the way from the Grange, I puzzled my brains how to put more heart into what he said, when I repeated it; and how to soften his refusal of even a few lines to console Isabella.
I dare say she had been on the watch for me since morning: I saw her looking through the lattice, as I came up the garden causeway and I nodded to her; but she drew back, as if afraid of being observed.
I entered without knocking. There never was such a dreary, dismal scene as the formerly cheerful house presented! I must confess that, if I had been in the young lady’s place, I would, at least, have swept the hearth, and wiped the tables with a duster. But she already partook of the pervading spirit of neglect which encompassed her. Her pretty face was wan and listless; her hair uncurled; some locks hanging lankly down, and some
carelessly twisted round her head. Probably she had not touched her dress since yester evening.
Hindley was not there. Mr Heathcliff sat at a table, turning over some papers in his pocket-book; but he rose when I appeared, asked me how I did, quite friendly, and offered me a chair.
He was the only thing there that seemed decent, and I thought he never looked better. So much had circumstances altered their positions, that he would certainly have struck a stranger as a born and bred gentleman, and his wife as a thorough little slattern!
She came forward eagerly to greet me; and held out one hand to take the expected letter.
I shook my head. She wouldn’t understand the hint, but followed me to a sideboard, where I went to lay my bonnet, and importuned me in a whisper to give her directly what I had brought.
Heathcliff guessed the meaning of her manœuvres, and said –
‘If you have got anything for Isabella, as no doubt you have, Nelly, give it to her. You needn’t make a secret of it; we have no secrets between us.’
‘Oh, I have nothing,’ I replied, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. ‘My master bid me tell his sister that she must not expect either a letter or a visit from him at present. He sends his love, ma’am, and his wishes for your happiness, and his pardon for the grief you have occasioned; but he thinks that after this time, his household, and the household here, should drop intercommunication, as nothing good could come of keeping it up.’
Mrs Heathcliff’s lip quivered slightly, and she returned to her seat in the window. Her husband took his stand on the hearthstone, near me, and began to put questions concerning Catherine.
I told him as much as I thought proper of her illness, and he extorted from me, by cross-examination, most of the facts connected with its origin.
I blamed her, as she deserved, for bringing it all on herself; and ended by hoping that he would follow Mr Linton’s example, and avoid future interference with his family, for good or evil.
‘Mrs Linton is now just recovering,’ I said, ‘she’ll never be like she was, but her life is spared, and if you really have a regard for her, you’ll shun crossing her way again. Nay, you’ll move out of this country entirely; and that you may not regret it, I’ll inform you Catherine Linton is as different now from your old friend Catherine Earnshaw, as that young lady is different from me! Her appearance is changed greatly, her character much more so; and the person, who is compelled, of necessity, to be her companion, will only sustain his affection hereafter, by the remembrance of what she once was, by common humanity, and a sense of duty!’
‘That is quite possible,’ remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself to seem calm, ‘quite possible that your master should have nothing but common humanity, and a sense of duty to fall back upon. But do you imagine that I shall leave Catherine to his duty and humanity and can you compare my feelings respecting Catherine, to his? Before you leave this house, I must exact a promise from you, that you’ll get me an interview with her – consent, or refuse, I will see her! What do you say?’
‘I say, Mr Heathcliff,’ I replied, ‘you must not – you never shall through my means. Another encounter between you and the master would kill her altogether!’
‘With your aid that may be avoided,’ he continued; ‘and should there be danger of such an event – should he be the cause of adding a single trouble more to her existence – Why, I think, I shall be justified in going to extremes! I wish you had sincerity enough to tell me whether Catherine would suffer greatly from his loss. The fear that she would restrains me; and there you see the distinction between our feelings – Had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society, as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drank his blood! But, till then – if you don’t believe me, you don’t know me – till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!’
‘And yet,’ I interrupted, ‘you have no scruples in completely ruining all hopes of her perfect restoration, by thrusting yourself into her remembrance, now, when she has nearly forgotten you, and involving her in a new tumult of discord, and distress.’
‘You suppose she has nearly forgotten me?’ he said. ‘Oh Nelly! you know she has not! You know as well as I do, that for every thought she spends on Linton, she spends a thousand on me! At a most miserable period of my life, I had a notion of the kind, it haunted me on my return to the neighbourhood, last summer, but only her own assurance could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt. Two words would comprehend my future – death and hell – existence, after losing her, would be hell.
‘Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton’s attachment more than mine – If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him – Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse – It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not?’
‘Catherine and Edgar are as fond of each other as any two people can be!’ cried Isabella with sudden vivacity. ‘No one has a right to talk in that manner, and I won’t hear my brother depreciated in silence!’
‘Your brother is wondrous fond of you too, isn’t he?’ observed Heathcliff scornfully. ‘He turns you adrift on the world with surprising alacrity.’
‘He is not aware of what I suffer,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t tell him that.’ ‘You have been telling him something, then – you have written, have
you?’
‘To say that I was married, I did write – you saw the note.’ ‘And nothing since?’
‘No.’
‘My young lady is looking sadly the worse for her change of condition,’ I remarked. ‘Somebody’s love comes short in her case, obviously – whose I may guess; but, perhaps, I shouldn’t say.’
‘I should guess it was her own,’ said Heathcliff. ‘She degenerates into a mere slut! She is tired of trying to please me, uncommonly early – You’d hardly credit it, but the very morrow of our wedding, she was weeping to go home. However, she’ll suit this house so much the better for not being over nice, and I’ll take care she does not disgrace me by rambling abroad.’
‘Well, sir,’ returned I, ‘I hope you’ll consider that Mrs Heathcliff is accustomed to be looked after, and waited on; and that she has been brought up like an only daughter whom every one was ready to serve – You must let her have a maid to keep things tidy about her, and you must treat her kindly – Whatever be your notion of Mr Edgar, you cannot doubt that she has a capacity for strong attachments or she wouldn’t have abandoned the elegancies, and comforts, and friends of her former home, to fix contentedly, in such a wilderness as this, with you.’
‘She abandoned them under a delusion,’ he answered, ‘picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character, and acting on the false impressions she cherished. But, at last, I think she begins to know me – I don’t perceive the silly smiles and grimaces that provoked me at first; and the senseless incapability of discerning that I was in earnest when I gave her my opinion of her infatuation, and herself – It was a marvellous effort of perspicacity to discover that I did not love her. I believed, at one time, no lessons could teach her that! and yet it is poorly learnt; for this morning she announced, as a piece of appalling intelligence, that I had actually succeeded in making her hate me! A positive labour of Hercules, I assure you! If it be achieved I have cause to return thanks – Can I trust your assertion, Isabella, are you sure you hate me? If I let you alone for half-a-day, won’t you come sighing and wheedling to me again? I dare
say she would rather I had seemed all tenderness before you; it wounds her vanity to have the truth exposed. But, I don’t care who knows that the passion was wholly on one side, and I never told her a lie about it. She cannot accuse me of showing a bit of deceitful softness. The first thing she saw me do, on coming out of the Grange, was to hang up her little dog, and when she pleaded for it, the first words I uttered were a wish that I had the hanging of every being belonging to her, except one: possibly, she took that exception for herself – But no brutality disgusted her – I suppose she has an innate admiration of it, if only her precious person were secure from injury! Now, was it not the depth of absurdity – of genuine idiocy, for that pitiful, slavish, mean-minded brach1 to dream that I could love her? Tell your master, Nelly, that I never, in all my life, met with such an abject thing as she is – She even disgraces the name of Linton; and I’ve sometimes relented, from pure lack of invention, in my experiments on what she could endure, and still creep shamefully cringing back! But tell him, also, to set his fraternal and magisterial heart at ease, that I keep strictly within the limits of the law – I have avoided, up to this period, giving her the slightest right to claim a separation;2 and what’s more, she’d thank nobody for dividing us – if she desired to go she might – the nuisance of her presence outweighs the gratification to be derived from tormenting her!’
‘Mr Heathcliff,’ said I, ‘this is the talk of a madman, and your wife, most likely, is convinced you are mad; and, for that reason, she has borne with you hitherto: but now that you say she may go, she’ll doubtless avail herself of the permission – You are not so bewitched ma’am, are you, as to remain with him of your own accord?’
‘Take care, Ellen!’ answered Isabella, her eyes sparkling irefully – there was no misdoubting by their expression, the full success of her partner’s endeavours to make himself detested. ‘Don’t put faith in a single word he speaks. He’s a lying fiend, a monster, and not a human being! I’ve been told I might leave him before; and I’ve made the attempt, but I dare not repeat it! Only, Ellen, promise you’ll not mention a syllable of his infamous conversation to my brother or Catherine – whatever he may pretend, he
wishes to provoke Edgar to desperation – he says he has married me on purpose to obtain power over him; and he shan’t obtain it – I’ll die first! I just hope, I pray that he may forget his diabolical prudence, and kill me! The single pleasure I can imagine is to die, or to see him dead!’
‘There – that will do for the present!’ said Heathcliff. ‘If you are called upon in a court of law, you’ll remember her language, Nelly! And take a good look at that countenance – she’s near the point which would suit me. No, you’re not fit to be your own guardian, Isabella, now; and I, being your legal protector, must retain you in my custody,3 however distasteful the obligation may be – Go upstairs; I have something to say to Ellen Dean, in private. That’s not the way – upstairs, I tell you! Why, this is the road upstairs, child!’
He seized, and thrust her from the room; and returned muttering,
‘I have no pity! I have no pity! The more worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.’
‘Do you understand what the word pity means?’ I said, hastening to resume my bonnet. ‘Did you ever feel a touch of it in your life?’
‘Put that down!’ he interrupted, perceiving my intention to depart. ‘You are not going yet – Come here now, Nelly – I must either persuade or compel you to aid me in fulfilling my determination to see Catherine, and that without delay – Is wear that I meditate no harm; I don’t desire to cause any disturbance, or to exasperate, or insult Mr Linton; I only wish to hear from herself how she is, and why she has been ill; and to ask, if anything that I could do would be of use to her. Last night, I was in the Grange garden six hours, and I’ll return there to-night; and every night I’ll haunt the place, and every day, till I find an opportunity of entering. If Edgar Linton meets me, I shall not hesitate to knock him down, and give him enough to ensure his quiescence while I stay – If his servants oppose me, I shall threaten them off with these pistols – But wouldn’t it be better to prevent my coming in contact with them, or their master? And you could do it so easily! I’d warn you when I came, and then you might let me in
unobserved, as soon as she was alone, and watch till I departed – your conscience quite calm, you would be hindering mischief.’
I protested against playing that treacherous part in my employer’s house; and besides, I urged the cruelty and selfishness of his destroying Mrs Linton’s tranquillity, for his satisfaction.
‘The commonest occurrence startles her painfully,’ I said. ‘She’s all nerves, and she couldn’t bear the surprise, I’m positive – Don’t persist, sir! or else, I shall be obliged to inform my master of your designs, and he’ll take measures to secure his house and its inmates from any such unwarrantable intrusions!’
‘In that case, I’ll take measures to secure you, woman!’ exclaimed Heathcliff, ‘you shall not leave Wuthering Heights till to-morrow morning. It is a foolish story to assert that Catherine could not bear to see me; and as to surprising her, I don’t desire it, you must prepare her – ask her if I may come. You say she never mentions my name, and that I am never mentioned to her. To whom should she mention me if I am a forbidden topic in the house? She thinks you are all spies for her husband – Oh, I’ve no doubt she’s in hell among you! I guess, by her silence as much as any thing, what she feels. You say she is often restless, and anxious looking – is that a proof of tranquillity? You talk of her mind being unsettled – How the devil could it be otherwise, in her frightful isolation. And that insipid, paltry creature attending her from duty and humanity! From pity and charity! He might as well plant an oak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares! Let us settle it at once; will you stay here, and am I to fight my way to Catherine over Linton, and his footmen? Or will you be my friend, as you have been hitherto, and do what I request? Decide! because there is no reason for my lingering another minute, if you persist in your stubborn ill nature!’
Well, Mr Lockwood, I argued, and complained, and flatly refused him fifty times; but in the long run he forced me to an agreement – I engaged to carry a letter from him to my mistress; and should she consent, I promised to let him have intelligence of Linton’s next absence from home, when he
might come, and get in as he was able – I wouldn’t be there, and my fellow servants should be equally out of the way.
Was it right, or wrong? I fear it was wrong, though expedient. I thought I prevented another explosion by my compliance; and I thought, too, it might create a favourable crisis in Catherine’s mental illness: and then I remembered Mr Edgar’s stern rebuke of my carrying tales; and I tried to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, by affirming, with frequent iteration, that betrayal of trust, if it merited so harsh an appellation, should be the last.
Notwithstanding, my journey homeward was sadder than my journey thither; and many misgivings I had, ere I could prevail on myself to put the missive into Mrs Linton’s hand.
But here is Kenneth – I’ll go down, and tell him how much better you are. My history is dree,4 as we say, and will serve to wile away another morning.
Dree, and dreary! I reflected as the good woman descended to receive the doctor; and not exactly of the kind which I should have chosen to amuse me; but never mind! I’ll extract wholesome medicines from Mrs Dean’s bitter herbs; and firstly, let me beware of the fascination that lurks in Catherine Heathcliff’s brilliant eyes. I should be in a curious taking if I surrendered my heart to that young person, and the daughter turned out a second edition of the mother!
T H E E N D O F V O L U M E I .
