prompt:
Chapter: 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.
I asked the reason.  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.

Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round
for the bed.  The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press,
and a large oak case, with squares cut out near the top resembling coach
windows.  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.  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.

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--_Catherine Earnshaw_, here and there varied
to _Catherine Heathcliff_, and then again to _Catherine Linton_.

In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued
spelling over Catherine Earnshaw--Heathcliff--Linton, 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--the 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.  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--'Catherine Earnshaw, her book,' and a date some quarter of a
century back.  I shut it, and took up another and another, till I had
examined all.  Catherine's 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--at least the appearance of one--covering every morsel of
blank that the printer had left.  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.  An immediate
interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began
forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

'An awful Sunday,' commenced the paragraph beneath.  'I wish my father
were back again.  Hindley is a detestable substitute--his conduct to
Heathcliff is atrocious--H. and I are going to rebel--we took our
initiatory step this evening.

'All 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--doing anything
but reading their Bibles, I'll answer for it--Heathcliff, myself, and the
unhappy ploughboy 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, "What, done already?"  On 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.

'"You forget you have a master here," says the tyrant.  "I'll 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."  Frances pulled his hair heartily,
and then went and seated herself on her husband's knee, and there they
were, like two babies, kissing and talking nonsense by the hour--foolish
palaver that we should be ashamed of.  We 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 handiwork, boxes my
ears, and croaks:

'"T' maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath not o'ered, und t' sound o'
t' gospel still i' yer lugs, and ye darr be laiking!  Shame on ye! sit ye
down, ill childer! there's good books eneugh if ye'll read 'em: sit ye
down, and think o' yer sowls!"

'Saying 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.  I could not bear the employment.  I took my
dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I
hated a good book.  Heathcliff kicked his to the same place.  Then there
was a hubbub!

'"Maister Hindley!" shouted our chaplain.  "Maister, coom hither!  Miss
Cathy's riven th' back off 'Th' Helmet o' Salvation,' un' Heathcliff's
pawsed his fit into t' first part o' 'T' Brooad Way to Destruction!'  It's
fair flaysome that ye let 'em go on this gait.  Ech! th' owd man wad ha'
laced 'em properly--but he's goan!"

'Hindley 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, "owd Nick" would fetch us as
sure as we were living: and, so comforted, we each sought a separate
nook to await his advent. I 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 dairywoman's
cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant
suggestion--and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his
prophecy verified--we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we
are here.'

* * * * * *

I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next sentence took up
another subject: she waxed lachrymose.

'How little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!' she
wrote.  'My head aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still I
can't give over.  Poor Heathcliff!  Hindley calls him a vagabond, and
won't 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.  He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for
treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right
place--'

* * * * * *

I began to nod drowsily over the dim page: my eye wandered from
manuscript to print.  I saw a red ornamented title--'Seventy Times Seven,
and the First of the Seventy-First.  A Pious Discourse delivered by the
Reverend Jabez Branderham, in the Chapel of Gimmerden Sough.'  And while
I was, half-consciously, worrying my brain to guess what Jabez Branderham
would make of his subject, I sank back in bed, and fell asleep.  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't remember another that I can
at all compare with it since I was capable of suffering.

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's staff: telling me that I could never get into the house without
one, and boastfully flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood
to be so denominated.  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 Jabez Branderham preach, from the text--'Seventy Times
Seven;' and either Joseph, the preacher, or I had committed the 'First of
the Seventy-First,' and were to be publicly exposed and excommunicated.

We came to the chapel.  I have passed it really in my walks, twice or
thrice; it lies in a hollow, between two hills: an 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's 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, Jabez had a full and attentive congregation; and he preached--good
God! what a sermon; divided into _four hundred and ninety_ 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.  They were of the
most curious character: odd transgressions that I never imagined
previously.

Oh, how weary I grow.  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_
have done.  I was condemned to hear all out: finally, he reached the
'_First of the Seventy-First_.'  At that crisis, a sudden inspiration
descended on me; I was moved to rise and denounce Jabez Branderham as the
sinner of the sin that no Christian need pardon.

'Sir,' I exclaimed, 'sitting 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--Seventy 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!'

'_Thou art the Man_!' cried Jabez, after a solemn pause, leaning over his
cushion.  'Seventy times seven times didst thou gapingly contort thy
visage--seventy times seven did I take counsel with my soul--Lo, 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!'

With that concluding word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim's
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's 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.  And what was it that had suggested the
tremendous tumult?  What had played Jabez's 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!  I listened doubtingly an
instant; detected the disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again:
if possible, still more disagreeably than before.

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.  'I must stop it, nevertheless!' 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!  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, 'Let me in--let me in!'  'Who are you?' I
asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself.  'Catherine Linton,'
it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of _Linton_?  I had read
_Earnshaw_ twenty times for Linton)--'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on
the moor!'  As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking
through the window.  Terror 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
bedclothes: still it wailed, 'Let me in!' and maintained its tenacious
grip, almost maddening me with fear.  'How can I!' I said at length.
'Let _me_ go, if you want me to let you in!'  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.  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!  'Begone!' I
shouted.  'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.'  'It
is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years.  I've been a waif for
twenty years!'  Thereat began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile
of books moved as if thrust forward.  I tried to jump up; but could not
stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright.  To my
confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: 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.  At last, he
said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer, 'Is any one
here?'  I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew
Heathcliff's accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept
quiet.  With this intention, I turned and opened the panels.  I shall not
soon forget the effect my action produced.

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.

'It is only your guest, sir,' I called out, desirous to spare him the
humiliation of exposing his cowardice further.  'I had the misfortune to
scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare.  I'm sorry I
disturbed you.'

'Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood!  I wish you were at the--' commenced
my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to
hold it steady.  'And who showed you up into this room?' he continued,
crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the
maxillary convulsions.  'Who was it?  I've a good mind to turn them out
of the house this moment?'

'It was your servant Zillah,' I replied, flinging myself on to the floor,
and rapidly resuming my garments.  'I 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--swarming 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!'

'What do you mean?' asked Heathcliff, 'and what are you doing?  Lie down
and finish out the night, since you _are_ here; but, for heaven's sake!
don't repeat that horrid noise: nothing could excuse it, unless you were
having your throat cut!'

'If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have
strangled me!' I returned.  'I'm not going to endure the persecutions of
your hospitable ancestors again.  Was not the Reverend Jabez Branderham
akin to you on the mother's side?  And that minx, Catherine Linton, or
Earnshaw, or however she was called--she must have been a
changeling--wicked little soul!  She told me she had been walking the
earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal
transgressions, I've no doubt!'

Scarcely were these words uttered when I recollected the association of
Heathcliff's with Catherine's 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--'The truth is, sir, I passed the first part
of the night in--'  Here I stopped afresh--I was about to say 'perusing
those old volumes,' then it would have revealed my knowledge of their
written, as well as their printed, contents; so, correcting myself, I
went on--'in spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge.  A
monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like counting, or--'

'What _can_ you mean by talking in this way to _me_!' thundered
Heathcliff with savage vehemence.  'How--how _dare_ you, under my
roof?--God! he's mad to speak so!'  And he struck his forehead with rage.

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 'Catherine
Linton' before, but reading it often over produced an impression which
personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control.
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
excess of violent emotion.  Not liking to show him that I had heard the
conflict, I continued my toilette rather noisily, looked at my watch, and
soliloquised on the length of the night: 'Not three o'clock yet!  I could
have taken oath it had been six.  Time stagnates here: we must surely
have retired to rest at eight!'

'Always at nine in winter, and rise at four,' said my host, suppressing a
groan: and, as I fancied, by the motion of his arm's shadow, dashing a
tear from his eyes.  'Mr. Lockwood,' he added, 'you may go into my room:
you'll only be in the way, coming down-stairs so early: and your childish
outcry has sent sleep to the devil for me.'

'And for me, too,' I replied.  'I'll walk in the yard till daylight, and
then I'll be off; and you need not dread a repetition of my intrusion.
I'm now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or
town.  A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.'

'Delightful company!' muttered Heathcliff.  'Take 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--Juno mounts sentinel
there, and--nay, you can only ramble about the steps and passages.  But,
away with you!  I'll come in two minutes!'

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.  He got on to the bed, and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as
he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears.  'Come in! come
in!' he sobbed.  'Cathy, do come.  Oh, do--_once_ more!  Oh! my heart's
darling! hear me _this_ time, Catherine, at last!'  The spectre showed a
spectre's 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.

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_ was beyond my
comprehension.  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.  Nothing was stirring except a
brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, and saluted me with a
querulous mew.

Two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth;
on one of these I stretched myself, and Grimalkin 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.  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.  I let him enjoy the luxury unannoyed; and after sucking out
his last wreath, and heaving a profound sigh, he got up, and departed as
solemnly as he came.

A more elastic footstep entered next; and now I opened my mouth for a
'good-morning,' but closed it again, the salutation unachieved; for
Hareton Earnshaw was performing his orison _sotto voce_, 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.  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.

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.  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 overforwardly into her face.  I was
surprised to see Heathcliff there also.  He stood by the fire, his back
towards me, just finishing a stormy scene with poor Zillah; who ever and
anon interrupted her labour to pluck up the corner of her apron, and
heave an indignant groan.

'And you, you worthless--' 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 dash--.  'There you are, at your idle
tricks again!  The rest of them do earn their bread--you 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--do you hear,
damnable jade?'

'I'll put my trash away, because you can make me if I refuse,' answered
the young lady, closing her book, and throwing it on a chair.  'But I'll
not do anything, though you should swear your tongue out, except what I
please!'

Heathcliff lifted his hand, and the speaker sprang to a safer distance,
obviously acquainted with its weight.  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.  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.

My landlord halloed 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's
walk left pictured in my mind.  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 barren: 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.

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's lodge is untenanted as yet.  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.

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.  I bid them be quiet, now that they saw me
returned, and, benumbed to my very heart, I dragged up-stairs; whence,
after putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or forty
minutes, to restore the animal heat, I adjourned to my study, feeble as a
kitten: almost too much so to enjoy the cheerful fire and smoking coffee
which the servant had prepared for my refreshment.

What vain weathercocks 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--I,
weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits and
solitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours; 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.

'You have lived here a considerable time,' I commenced; 'did you not say
sixteen years?'

'Eighteen, sir: I came when the mistress was married, to wait on her;
after she died, the master retained me for his housekeeper.'

'Indeed.'

There ensued a pause.  She was not a gossip, I feared; unless about her
own affairs, and those could hardly interest me.  However, having studied
for an interval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation
over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated--'Ah, times are greatly
changed since then!'

'Yes,' I remarked, 'you've seen a good many alterations, I suppose?'

'I have: and troubles too,' she said.

'Oh, I'll turn the talk on my landlord's family!' I thought to myself.  'A
good subject to start!  And 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_ will not recognise for
kin.'  With this intention I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff let
Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation and residence so
much inferior.  'Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?'
I inquired.

'Rich, sir!' she returned.  'He has nobody knows what money, and every
year it increases.  Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer house
than this: but he's very near--close-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!'

'He had a son, it seems?'

'Yes, he had one--he is dead.'

'And that young lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?'

'Yes.'

'Where did she come from originally?'

'Why, sir, she is my late master's 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.'

'What!  Catherine Linton?' I exclaimed, astonished.  But a minute's
reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine.  'Then,' I
continued, 'my predecessor's name was Linton?'

'It was.'

'And who is that Earnshaw: Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr.
Heathcliff?  Are they relations?'

'No; he is the late Mrs. Linton's nephew.'

'The young lady's cousin, then?'

'Yes; and her husband was her cousin also: one on the mother's, the other
on the father's side: Heathcliff married Mr. Linton's sister.'

'I see the house at Wuthering Heights has "Earnshaw" carved over the
front door.  Are they an old family?'

'Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of
us--I mean, of the Lintons.  Have you been to Wuthering Heights?  I beg
pardon for asking; but I should like to hear how she is!'

'Mrs. Heathcliff? she looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think,
not very happy.'

'Oh dear, I don't wonder!  And how did you like the master?'

'A rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean.  Is not that his character?

'Rough as a saw-edge, and hard as whinstone!  The less you meddle with
him the better.'

'He must have had some ups and downs in life to make him such a churl.  Do
you know anything of his history?'

'It's a cuckoo's, sir--I 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!  The unfortunate lad is the only
one in all this parish that does not guess how he has been cheated.'

'Well, Mrs. Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my
neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to
sit and chat an hour.'

'Oh, certainly, sir!  I'll just fetch a little sewing, and then I'll sit
as long as you please.  But you've caught cold: I saw you shivering, and
you must have some gruel to drive it out.'

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 to-day and yesterday.  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.

Before I came to live here, she commenced--waiting no farther invitation
to her story--I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my mother
had nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's 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.  One fine summer morning--it was the beginning of harvest, I
remember--Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came down-stairs, 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--for I sat eating my
porridge with them--and he said, speaking to his son, 'Now, my bonny man,
I'm going to Liverpool to-day, 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!'  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.  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, said good-bye, and set off.

It seemed a long while to us all--the three days of his absence--and
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'clock, the door-latch was raised
quietly, and in stepped the master.  He threw himself into a chair,
laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for he was nearly
killed--he would not have such another walk for the three kingdoms.

'And at the end of it to be flighted to death!' he said, opening his
great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms.  'See here, wife!  I
was never so beaten with anything in my life: but you must e'en take it
as a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came from the
devil.'

We crowded round, and over Miss Cathy's head I had a peep at a dirty,
ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk: indeed, its
face looked older than Catherine's; yet 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, asking 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?
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.  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.

Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening till
peace was restored: then, both began searching their father's 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 learned the master
had lost her whip in attending on the stranger, showed her humour by
grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing; earning for her pains
a sound blow from her father, to teach her cleaner manners. 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's 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.

This was Heathcliff's 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 'Heathcliff': it was the name of a son who
died in childhood, and it has served him ever since, both for Christian
and surname.  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't reasonable enough to feel my injustice, and
the mistress never put in a word on his behalf when she saw him wronged.

He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment:
he would stand Hindley's 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.  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.

So, from the very beginning, he bred bad feeling in the house; and at
Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years after, the
young master had learned to regard his father as an oppressor rather than
a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's affections and his
privileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries.  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 idea.  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't 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 was as
uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not gentleness, made him give
little trouble.

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't 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.  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--

'You must exchange horses with me: I don't like mine; and if you won't I
shall tell your father of the three thrashings you've given me this week,
and show him my arm, which is black to the shoulder.'  Hindley put out
his tongue, and cuffed him over the ears.  'You'd better do it at once,'
he persisted, escaping to the porch (they were in the stable): 'you will
have to: and if I speak of these blows, you'll get them again with
interest.'  'Off, dog!' cried Hindley, threatening him with an iron
weight used for weighing potatoes and hay.  'Throw it,' he replied,
standing still, 'and then I'll 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.'  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.  'Take my colt, Gipsy, then!' said young Earnshaw.  'And 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.--And take that, I hope he'll kick out your
brains!'

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.  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.  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: I was deceived completely, as you will
hear.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Zillah takes Lockwood to a bedroom that has not been used for quite some time as Heathcliff keeps it sealed. In the room he discovers three diaries, which have the following names written on them - Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Heathcliff, and Catherine Linton. Lockwood decides to read the contents. The entries reveal that Cathy is friendly with Heathcliff, but that her brother Hindley treats Heathcliff badly. Lockwood falls asleep, but a branch tapping on the window awakens him. In order to reach the branch Lockwood pushes his hand through the window, but an ice-cold hand grabs him. He tries to struggle free, but then hears a voice crying out 'Let me in, let me in'. The voice identifies itself as Catherine Linton. Eventually he breaks free and piles the books against the hole in the window. When they begin to fall, he screams. Heathcliff bursts into the room declaring that it is haunted and Lockwood must leave. When Lockwood mentions the name Catherine, this brings anguish to Heathcliff's face. Lockwood spends the rest of the night in the kitchen and when it is dawn he returns to the Grange, soaked and chilled. When Lockwood recovers from his ordeal he is very curious about the occupants of Wuthering Heights and he asks Nelly for any information. Nelly advises him that Catherine Linton is the daughter of her late master, Mr. Earnshaw. Nelly was a servant at Wuthering Heights when Cathy, her brother Hindley, and Heathcliff were growing up. Cathy is the last of the Lintons and Hareton is the last of the Earnshaws. Nelly also reveals that Heathcliff had married Mr. Linton's sister Isabella. These snippets of information only increase Lockwood's curiosity further and he encourages Nelly to tell him the complete history of the events. She begins her story at Wuthering Heights when Mr. Earnshaw, the master, brought home an orphan boy from Liverpool and named him Heathcliff, after a son of his who had died in childbirth. Mr. Earnshaw had two children, Cathy and Hindley, but over the years he grew to love Heathcliff more than his own son Hindley. Cathy initially disliked the sallow-skinned Heathcliff but soon grew to love him, and they would spend many happy hours running over the moors. Hindley was sent away to school, thus increasing the rift with his father. Mrs. Earnshaw died within two years of Heathcliff's arrival.


prompt:
Chapter: 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. 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. 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's pride and black
tempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice, or thrice,
Hindley's manifestation 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.

At last, our curate (we had a curate then who made the living answer by
teaching the little Lintons and Earnshaws, and farming his bit of land
himself) advised that the young man should be sent to college; and Mr.
Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said--'Hindley was
nought, and would never thrive as where he wandered.'

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.  We might have got on tolerably, notwithstanding, but for two
people--Miss Cathy, and Joseph, the servant: you saw him, I daresay, 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 to his neighbours.  By his knack of sermonising 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.  He was relentless in worrying him about his soul's 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's weakness by heaping the heaviest blame on the latter.

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 down-stairs till the hour she went to
bed, we had not a minute's security that she wouldn't be in mischief.  Her
spirits were always at high-water mark, her tongue always going--singing,
laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do the same.  A wild,
wicked slip she was--but she had the bonniest eye, the 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.  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.  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.

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.  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's 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_ bidding in
anything, and _his_ only when it suited his own inclination.  After
behaving as badly as possible all day, she sometimes came fondling to
make it up at night.  'Nay, Cathy,' the old man would say, 'I cannot love
thee, thou'rt worse than thy brother.  Go, say thy prayers, child, and
ask God's pardon.  I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared
thee!'  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.

But the hour came, at last, that ended Mr. Earnshaw's troubles on earth.
He died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by the
fire-side.  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--I, 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's knee, and
Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap.  I remember
the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair--it
pleased him rarely to see her gentle--and saying, 'Why canst thou not
always be a good lass, Cathy?'  And she turned her face up to his, and
laughed, and answered, 'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?'  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: so he took the candle
and looked at him.  I thought there was something wrong as he set down
the light; and seizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to
'frame up-stairs, and make little din--they might pray alone that
evening--he had summut to do.'

'I shall bid father good-night first,' said Catherine, putting her arms
round his neck, before we could hinder her.  The poor thing discovered
her loss directly--she screamed out--'Oh, he's dead, Heathcliff! he's
dead!'  And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

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.  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.  Leaving Joseph to explain
matters, I ran to the children's room: their door was ajar, I saw they
had never lain 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.

Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and--a thing that amazed us, and
set the neighbours gossiping right and left--he brought a wife with him.
What she was, and where she was born, he never informed us: probably, she
had neither money nor name to recommend her, or he would scarcely have
kept the union from his father.

She was not one that would have disturbed the house much on her own
account.  Every object she saw, the moment she crossed the threshold,
appeared to delight her; and every circumstance that took place about
her: except the preparing for the burial, and the presence of the
mourners.  I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour while that
went on: she ran into her chamber, and made me come with her, though I
should have been dressing the children: and there she sat shivering and
clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly--'Are they gone yet?'  Then she
began describing with hysterical emotion the effect it produced on her to
see black; and started, and trembled, and, at last, fell a-weeping--and
when I asked what was the matter, answered, she didn't know; but she felt
so afraid of dying!  I imagined her as little likely to die as myself.
She was rather thin, but young, and fresh-complexioned, and her eyes
sparkled as bright as diamonds.  I did remark, to be sure, that mounting
the stairs made her breathe very quick; that the least sudden noise set
her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomely sometimes: but I
knew nothing of what these symptoms portended, and had no impulse to
sympathise with her.  We don't in general take to foreigners here, Mr.
Lockwood, unless they take to us first.

Young Earnshaw was altered considerably in the three years of his
absence. He had grown sparer, and lost his colour, and spoke and dressed
quite differently; and, on the very day of his return, he told Joseph
and me we must thenceforth quarter ourselves in the back-kitchen, and
leave the house for him. Indeed, he would have carpeted and papered a
small spare room for a parlour; but his wife expressed such pleasure at
the white floor and huge glowing fireplace, at the pewter dishes and
delf-case, and dog-kennel, and the wide space there was to move about in
where they usually sat, that he thought it unnecessary to her comfort,
and so dropped the intention.

She expressed pleasure, too, at finding a sister among her new
acquaintance; and she prattled to Catherine, and kissed her, and ran
about with her, and gave her quantities of presents, at the beginning.
Her affection tired very soon, however, and when she grew peevish,
Hindley became tyrannical.  A few words from her, evincing a dislike to
Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his old hatred of the boy.  He
drove him from their company to the servants, deprived him of the
instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour out of
doors instead; compelling him to do so as hard as any other lad on the
farm.

Heathcliff bore his degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy
taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields.
They both promised fair to grow up as rude as savages; the young master
being entirely negligent how they behaved, and what they did, so they
kept clear of him.  He would not even have seen after their going to
church on Sundays, only Joseph and the curate reprimanded his
carelessness when they absented themselves; and that reminded him to
order Heathcliff a flogging, and Catherine a fast from dinner or supper.
But it was one of their chief amusements to run away to the moors in the
morning and remain there all day, and the after punishment grew a mere
thing to laugh at.  The curate might set as many chapters as he pleased
for Catherine to get by heart, and Joseph might thrash Heathcliff till
his arm ached; they forgot everything the minute they were together
again: at least the minute they had contrived some naughty plan of
revenge; and many a time I've cried to myself to watch them growing more
reckless daily, and I not daring to speak a syllable, for fear of losing
the small power I still retained over the unfriended creatures.  One
Sunday evening, it chanced that they were banished from the sitting-room,
for making a noise, or a light offence of the kind; and when I went to
call them to supper, I could discover them nowhere.  We searched the
house, above and below, and the yard and stables; they were invisible:
and, at last, Hindley in a passion told us to bolt the doors, and swore
nobody should let them in that night.  The household went to bed; and I,
too, anxious to lie down, opened my lattice and put my head out to
hearken, though it rained: determined to admit them in spite of the
prohibition, should they return.  In a while, I distinguished steps
coming up the road, and the light of a lantern glimmered through the
gate.  I threw a shawl over my head and ran to prevent them from waking
Mr. Earnshaw by knocking.  There was Heathcliff, by himself: it gave me a
start to see him alone.

'Where is Miss Catherine?' I cried hurriedly. 'No accident, I hope?' 'At
Thrushcross Grange,' he answered; 'and I would have been there too, but
they had not the manners to ask me to stay.' 'Well, you will catch it!'
I said: 'you'll never be content till you're sent about your business.
What in the world led you wandering to Thrushcross Grange?' 'Let me get
off my wet clothes, and I'll tell you all about it, Nelly,' he replied.
I bid him beware of rousing the master, and while he undressed and I
waited to put out the candle, he continued--'Cathy and I escaped from
the wash-house to have a ramble at liberty, and getting a glimpse of the
Grange lights, we thought we would just go and see whether the Lintons
passed their Sunday evenings standing shivering in corners, while their
father and mother sat eating and drinking, and singing and laughing, and
burning their eyes out before the fire. Do you think they do? Or reading
sermons, and being catechised by their manservant, and set to learn a
column of Scripture names, if they don't answer properly?' 'Probably
not,' I responded. 'They are good children, no doubt, and don't deserve
the treatment you receive, for your bad conduct.' 'Don't cant, Nelly,'
he said: 'nonsense! We ran from the top of the Heights to the park,
without stopping--Catherine completely beaten in the race, because she
was barefoot. You'll have to seek for her shoes in the bog to-morrow. We
crept through a broken hedge, groped our way up the path, and planted
ourselves on a flower-plot under the drawing-room window. The light came
from thence; they had not put up the shutters, and the curtains were
only half closed. Both of us were able to look in by standing on the
basement, and clinging to the ledge, and we saw--ah! it was beautiful--a
splendid place carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and
tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of
glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the centre, and shimmering
with little soft tapers. Old Mr. and Mrs. Linton were not there; Edgar
and his sisters had it entirely to themselves. Shouldn't they have been
happy? We should have thought ourselves in heaven! And now, guess what
your good children were doing? Isabella--I believe she is eleven, a year
younger than Cathy--lay screaming at the farther end of the room,
shrieking as if witches were running red-hot needles into her. Edgar
stood on the hearth weeping silently, and in the middle of the table sat
a little dog, shaking its paw and yelping; which, from their mutual
accusations, we understood they had nearly pulled in two between them.
The idiots! That was their pleasure! to quarrel who should hold a heap
of warm hair, and each begin to cry because both, after struggling to
get it, refused to take it. We laughed outright at the petted things; we
did despise them! When would you catch me wishing to have what Catherine
wanted? or find us by ourselves, seeking entertainment in yelling, and
sobbing, and rolling on the ground, divided by the whole room? I'd not
exchange, for a thousand lives, my condition here, for Edgar Linton's at
Thrushcross Grange--not if I might have the privilege of flinging Joseph
off the highest gable, and painting the house-front with Hindley's
blood!'

'Hush, hush!' I interrupted.  'Still you have not told me, Heathcliff,
how Catherine is left behind?'

'I told you we laughed,' he answered. 'The Lintons heard us, and with
one accord they shot like arrows to the door; there was silence, and
then a cry, "Oh, mamma, mamma! Oh, papa! Oh, mamma, come here. Oh, papa,
oh!" They really did howl out something in that way. We made frightful
noises to terrify them still more, and then we dropped off the ledge,
because somebody was drawing the bars, and we felt we had better flee. I
had Cathy by the hand, and was urging her on, when all at once she fell
down. "Run, Heathcliff, run!" she whispered. "They have let the bull-dog
loose, and he holds me!" The devil had seized her ankle, Nelly: I heard
his abominable snorting. She did not yell out--no! she would have
scorned to do it, if she had been spitted on the horns of a mad cow. I
did, though: I vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in
Christendom; and I got a stone and thrust it between his jaws, and tried
with all my might to cram it down his throat. A beast of a servant came
up with a lantern, at last, shouting--"Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast!"
He changed his note, however, when he saw Skulker's game. The dog was
throttled off; his huge, purple tongue hanging half a foot out of his
mouth, and his pendent lips streaming with bloody slaver. The man took
Cathy up; she was sick: not from fear, I'm certain, but from pain. He
carried her in; I followed, grumbling execrations and vengeance. "What
prey, Robert?" hallooed Linton from the entrance. "Skulker has caught a
little girl, sir," he replied; "and there's a lad here," he added,
making a clutch at me, "who looks an out-and-outer! Very like the
robbers were for putting them through the window to open the doors to
the gang after all were asleep, that they might murder us at their ease.
Hold your tongue, you foul-mouthed thief, you! you shall go to the
gallows for this. Mr. Linton, sir, don't lay by your gun." "No, no,
Robert," said the old fool. "The rascals knew that yesterday was my
rent-day: they thought to have me cleverly. Come in; I'll furnish them a
reception. There, John, fasten the chain. Give Skulker some water,
Jenny. To beard a magistrate in his stronghold, and on the Sabbath, too!
Where will their insolence stop? Oh, my dear Mary, look here! Don't be
afraid, it is but a boy--yet the villain scowls so plainly in his face;
would it not be a kindness to the country to hang him at once, before he
shows his nature in acts as well as features?" He pulled me under the
chandelier, and Mrs. Linton placed her spectacles on her nose and raised
her hands in horror. The cowardly children crept nearer also, Isabella
lisping--"Frightful thing! Put him in the cellar, papa. He's exactly
like the son of the fortune-teller that stole my tame pheasant. Isn't
he, Edgar?"

'While they examined me, Cathy came round; she heard the last speech, and
laughed.  Edgar Linton, after an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient
wit to recognise her.  They see us at church, you know, though we seldom
meet them elsewhere.  "That's Miss Earnshaw?" he whispered to his mother,
"and look how Skulker has bitten her--how her foot bleeds!"

'"Miss Earnshaw?  Nonsense!" cried the dame; "Miss Earnshaw scouring the
country with a gipsy!  And yet, my dear, the child is in mourning--surely
it is--and she may be lamed for life!"

'"What culpable carelessness in her brother!" exclaimed Mr. Linton,
turning from me to Catherine.  "I've understood from Shielders"' (that
was the curate, sir) '"that he lets her grow up in absolute heathenism.
But who is this?  Where did she pick up this companion?  Oho! I declare
he is that strange acquisition my late neighbour made, in his journey to
Liverpool--a little Lascar, or an American or Spanish castaway."

'"A wicked boy, at all events," remarked the old lady, "and quite unfit
for a decent house!  Did you notice his language, Linton?  I'm shocked
that my children should have heard it."

'I recommenced cursing--don't be angry, Nelly--and so Robert was ordered
to take me off.  I refused to go without Cathy; he dragged me into the
garden, pushed the lantern into my hand, assured me that Mr. Earnshaw
should be informed of my behaviour, and, bidding me march directly,
secured the door again.  The curtains were still looped up at one corner,
and I resumed my station as spy; because, if Catherine had wished to
return, I intended shattering their great glass panes to a million of
fragments, unless they let her out.  She sat on the sofa quietly.  Mrs.
Linton took off the grey cloak of the dairy-maid which we had borrowed
for our excursion, shaking her head and expostulating with her, I
suppose: she was a young lady, and they made a distinction between her
treatment and mine.  Then the woman-servant brought a basin of warm
water, and washed her feet; and Mr. Linton mixed a tumbler of negus, and
Isabella emptied a plateful of cakes into her lap, and Edgar stood gaping
at a distance.  Afterwards, they dried and combed her beautiful hair, and
gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her to the fire; and I
left her, as merry as she could be, dividing her food between the little
dog and Skulker, whose nose she pinched as he ate; and kindling a spark
of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons--a dim reflection from
her own enchanting face.  I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she
is so immeasurably superior to them--to everybody on earth, is she not,
Nelly?'

'There will more come of this business than you reckon on,' I answered,
covering him up and extinguishing the light.  'You are incurable,
Heathcliff; and Mr. Hindley will have to proceed to extremities, see if
he won't.'  My words came truer than I desired.  The luckless adventure
made Earnshaw furious.  And then Mr. Linton, to mend matters, paid us a
visit himself on the morrow, and read the young master such a lecture on
the road he guided his family, that he was stirred to look about him, in
earnest.  Heathcliff received no flogging, but he was told that the first
word he spoke to Miss Catherine should ensure a dismissal; and Mrs.
Earnshaw undertook to keep her sister-in-law in due restraint when she
returned home; employing art, not force: with force she would have found
it impossible.

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks: till Christmas.  By that
time her ankle was thoroughly cured, and her manners much improved.  The
mistress visited her often in the interval, and commenced her plan of
reform by trying to raise her self-respect with fine clothes and
flattery, which she took readily; so that, instead of a wild, hatless
little savage jumping into the house, and rushing to squeeze us all
breathless, there 'lighted from a handsome black pony a very dignified
person, with brown ringlets falling from the cover of a feathered beaver,
and a long cloth habit, which she was obliged to hold up with both hands
that she might sail in.  Hindley lifted her from her horse, exclaiming
delightedly, 'Why, Cathy, you are quite a beauty!  I should scarcely have
known you: you look like a lady now.  Isabella Linton is not to be
compared with her, is she, Frances?'  'Isabella has not her natural
advantages,' replied his wife: 'but she must mind and not grow wild again
here.  Ellen, help Miss Catherine off with her things--Stay, dear, you
will disarrange your curls--let me untie your hat.'

I removed the habit, and there shone forth beneath a grand plaid silk
frock, white trousers, and burnished shoes; and, while her eyes sparkled
joyfully when the dogs came bounding up to welcome her, she dared hardly
touch them lest they should fawn upon her splendid garments.  She kissed
me gently: I was all flour making the Christmas cake, and it would not
have done to give me a hug; and then she looked round for Heathcliff.  Mr.
and Mrs. Earnshaw watched anxiously their meeting; thinking it would
enable them to judge, in some measure, what grounds they had for hoping
to succeed in separating the two friends.

Heathcliff was hard to discover, at first.  If he were careless, and
uncared for, before Catherine's absence, he had been ten times more so
since.  Nobody but I even did him the kindness to call him a dirty boy,
and bid him wash himself, once a week; and children of his age seldom
have a natural pleasure in soap and water.  Therefore, not to mention his
clothes, which had seen three months' service in mire and dust, and his
thick uncombed hair, the surface of his face and hands was dismally
beclouded.  He might well skulk behind the settle, on beholding such a
bright, graceful damsel enter the house, instead of a rough-headed
counterpart of himself, as he expected.  'Is Heathcliff not here?' she
demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully
whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors.

'Heathcliff, you may come forward,' cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his
discomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard he
would be compelled to present himself.  'You may come and wish Miss
Catherine welcome, like the other servants.'

Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to
embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the
second, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh,
exclaiming, 'Why, how very black and cross you look! and how--how funny
and grim!  But that's because I'm used to Edgar and Isabella Linton.
Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?'

She had some reason to put the question, for shame and pride threw double
gloom over his countenance, and kept him immovable.

'Shake hands, Heathcliff,' said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; 'once in a
way that is permitted.'

'I shall not,' replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; 'I shall not
stand to be laughed at.  I shall not bear it!'  And he would have broken
from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him again.

'I did not mean to laugh at you,' she said; 'I could not hinder myself:
Heathcliff, shake hands at least!  What are you sulky for?  It was only
that you looked odd.  If you wash your face and brush your hair, it will
be all right: but you are so dirty!'

She gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers she held in her own, and also
at her dress; which she feared had gained no embellishment from its
contact with his.

'You needn't have touched me!' he answered, following her eye and
snatching away his hand.  'I shall be as dirty as I please: and I like to
be dirty, and I will be dirty.'

With that he dashed headforemost out of the room, amid the merriment of
the master and mistress, and to the serious disturbance of Catherine; who
could not comprehend how her remarks should have produced such an
exhibition of bad temper.

After playing lady's-maid to the new-comer, and putting my cakes in the
oven, and making the house and kitchen cheerful with great fires,
befitting Christmas-eve, I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by
singing carols, all alone; regardless of Joseph's affirmations that he
considered the merry tunes I chose as next door to songs.  He had retired
to private prayer in his chamber, and Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw were engaging
Missy's attention by sundry gay trifles bought for her to present to the
little Lintons, as an acknowledgment of their kindness.  They had invited
them to spend the morrow at Wuthering Heights, and the invitation had
been accepted, on one condition: Mrs. Linton begged that her darlings
might be kept carefully apart from that 'naughty swearing boy.'

Under these circumstances I remained solitary.  I smelt the rich scent of
the heating spices; and admired the shining kitchen utensils, the
polished clock, decked in holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray ready
to be filled with mulled ale for supper; and above all, the speckless
purity of my particular care--the scoured and well-swept floor.  I gave
due inward applause to every object, and then I remembered how old
Earnshaw used to come in when all was tidied, and call me a cant lass,
and slip a shilling into my hand as a Christmas-box; and from that I went
on to think of his fondness for Heathcliff, and his dread lest he should
suffer neglect after death had removed him: and that naturally led me to
consider the poor lad's situation now, and from singing I changed my mind
to crying.  It struck me soon, however, there would be more sense in
endeavouring to repair some of his wrongs than shedding tears over them:
I got up and walked into the court to seek him.  He was not far; I found
him smoothing the glossy coat of the new pony in the stable, and feeding
the other beasts, according to custom.

'Make haste, Heathcliff!' I said, 'the kitchen is so comfortable; and
Joseph is up-stairs: make haste, and let me dress you smart before Miss
Cathy comes out, and then you can sit together, with the whole hearth to
yourselves, and have a long chatter till bedtime.'

He proceeded with his task, and never turned his head towards me.

'Come--are you coming?' I continued.  'There's a little cake for each of
you, nearly enough; and you'll need half-an-hour's donning.'

I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him.  Catherine supped
with her brother and sister-in-law: Joseph and I joined at an unsociable
meal, seasoned with reproofs on one side and sauciness on the other.  His
cake and cheese remained on the table all night for the fairies.  He
managed to continue work till nine o'clock, and then marched dumb and
dour to his chamber.  Cathy sat up late, having a world of things to
order for the reception of her new friends: she came into the kitchen
once to speak to her old one; but he was gone, and she only stayed to ask
what was the matter with him, and then went back.  In the morning he rose
early; and, as it was a holiday, carried his ill-humour on to the moors;
not re-appearing till the family were departed for church.  Fasting and
reflection seemed to have brought him to a better spirit.  He hung about
me for a while, and having screwed up his courage, exclaimed
abruptly--'Nelly, make me decent, I'm going to be good.'

'High time, Heathcliff,' I said; 'you _have_ grieved Catherine: she's
sorry she ever came home, I daresay!  It looks as if you envied her,
because she is more thought of than you.'

The notion of _envying_ Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the
notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough.

'Did she say she was grieved?' he inquired, looking very serious.

'She cried when I told her you were off again this morning.'

'Well, _I_ cried last night,' he returned, 'and I had more reason to cry
than she.'

'Yes: you had the reason of going to bed with a proud heart and an empty
stomach,' said I.  'Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.  But,
if you be ashamed of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she
comes in.  You must go up and offer to kiss her, and say--you know best
what to say; only do it heartily, and not as if you thought her converted
into a stranger by her grand dress.  And now, though I have dinner to get
ready, I'll steal time to arrange you so that Edgar Linton shall look
quite a doll beside you: and that he does.  You are younger, and yet,
I'll be bound, you are taller and twice as broad across the shoulders;
you could knock him down in a twinkling; don't you feel that you could?'

Heathcliff's face brightened a moment; then it was overcast afresh, and
he sighed.

'But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn't make him
less handsome or me more so.  I wish I had light hair and a fair skin,
and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as
he will be!'

'And cried for mamma at every turn,' I added, 'and trembled if a country
lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower of
rain.  Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit!  Come to the glass,
and I'll let you see what you should wish.  Do you mark those two lines
between your eyes; and those thick brows, that, instead of rising arched,
sink in the middle; and that couple of black fiends, so deeply buried,
who never open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting under them, like
devil's spies?  Wish and learn to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to
raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent
angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where
they are not sure of foes.  Don't get the expression of a vicious cur
that appears to know the kicks it gets are its dessert, and yet hates all
the world, as well as the kicker, for what it suffers.'

'In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes and even
forehead,' he replied.  'I do--and that won't help me to them.'

'A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,' I continued, 'if
you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into
something worse than ugly.  And now that we've done washing, and combing,
and sulking--tell me whether you don't think yourself rather handsome?
I'll tell you, I do.  You're fit for a prince in disguise.  Who knows but
your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen, each
of them able to buy up, with one week's income, Wuthering Heights and
Thrushcross Grange together?  And you were kidnapped by wicked sailors
and brought to England.  Were I in your place, I would frame high notions
of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage and
dignity to support the oppressions of a little farmer!'

So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his frown and began to
look quite pleasant, when all at once our conversation was interrupted by
a rumbling sound moving up the road and entering the court.  He ran to
the window and I to the door, just in time to behold the two Lintons
descend from the family carriage, smothered in cloaks and furs, and the
Earnshaws dismount from their horses: they often rode to church in
winter.  Catherine took a hand of each of the children, and brought them
into the house and set them before the fire, which quickly put colour
into their white faces.

I urged my companion to hasten now and show his amiable humour, and he
willingly obeyed; but ill luck would have it that, as he opened the door
leading from the kitchen on one side, Hindley opened it on the other.
They met, and the master, irritated at seeing him clean and cheerful, or,
perhaps, eager to keep his promise to Mrs. Linton, shoved him back with a
sudden thrust, and angrily bade Joseph 'keep the fellow out of the
room--send him into the garret till dinner is over.  He'll be cramming
his fingers in the tarts and stealing the fruit, if left alone with them
a minute.'

'Nay, sir,' I could not avoid answering, 'he'll touch nothing, not he:
and I suppose he must have his share of the dainties as well as we.'

'He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs till
dark,' cried Hindley.  'Begone, you vagabond!  What! you are attempting
the coxcomb, are you?  Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks--see
if I won't pull them a bit longer!'

'They are long enough already,' observed Master Linton, peeping from the
doorway; 'I wonder they don't make his head ache.  It's like a colt's
mane over his eyes!'

He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but Heathcliff's
violent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence
from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival.  He seized a
tureen of hot apple sauce (the first thing that came under his grip) and
dashed it full against the speaker's face and neck; who instantly
commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the
place.  Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly and conveyed him to
his chamber; where, doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool the
fit of passion, for he appeared red and breathless.  I got the dishcloth,
and rather spitefully scrubbed Edgar's nose and mouth, affirming it
served him right for meddling.  His sister began weeping to go home, and
Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.

'You should not have spoken to him!' she expostulated with Master Linton.
'He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit; and he'll be
flogged: I hate him to be flogged!  I can't eat my dinner.  Why did you
speak to him, Edgar?'

'I didn't,' sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing the
remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief.  'I
promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't.'

'Well, don't cry,' replied Catherine, contemptuously; 'you're not killed.
Don't make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet!  Hush,
Isabella!  Has anybody hurt you?'

'There, there, children--to your seats!' cried Hindley, bustling in.
'That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely.  Next time, Master Edgar, take
the law into your own fists--it will give you an appetite!'

The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant feast.
They were hungry after their ride, and easily consoled, since no real
harm had befallen them.  Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls, and the
mistress made them merry with lively talk.  I waited behind her chair,
and was pained to behold Catherine, with dry eyes and an indifferent air,
commence cutting up the wing of a goose before her.  'An unfeeling
child,' I thought to myself; 'how lightly she dismisses her old
playmate's troubles.  I could not have imagined her to be so selfish.'
She lifted a mouthful to her lips: then she set it down again: her cheeks
flushed, and the tears gushed over them.  She slipped her fork to the
floor, and hastily dived under the cloth to conceal her emotion.  I did
not call her unfeeling long; for I perceived she was in purgatory
throughout the day, and wearying to find an opportunity of getting by
herself, or paying a visit to Heathcliff, who had been locked up by the
master: as I discovered, on endeavouring to introduce to him a private
mess of victuals.

In the evening we had a dance.  Cathy begged that he might be liberated
then, as Isabella Linton had no partner: her entreaties were vain, and I
was appointed to supply the deficiency.  We got rid of all gloom in the
excitement of the exercise, and our pleasure was increased by the arrival
of the Gimmerton band, mustering fifteen strong: a trumpet, a trombone,
clarionets, bassoons, French horns, and a bass viol, besides singers.
They go the rounds of all the respectable houses, and receive
contributions every Christmas, and we esteemed it a first-rate treat to
hear them.  After the usual carols had been sung, we set them to songs
and glees.  Mrs. Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave us plenty.

Catherine loved it too: but she said it sounded sweetest at the top of
the steps, and she went up in the dark: I followed. They shut the house
door below, never noting our absence, it was so full of people. She made
no stay at the stairs'-head, but mounted farther, to the garret where
Heathcliff was confined, and called him. He stubbornly declined
answering for a while: she persevered, and finally persuaded him to hold
communion with her through the boards. I let the poor things converse
unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going to cease, and the
singers to get some refreshment: then I clambered up the ladder to warn
her. Instead of finding her outside, I heard her voice within. The
little monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret, along the roof,
into the skylight of the other, and it was with the utmost difficulty I
could coax her out again. When she did come, Heathcliff came with her,
and she insisted that I should take him into the kitchen, as my
fellow-servant had gone to a neighbour's, to be removed from the sound
of our 'devil's psalmody,' as it pleased him to call it. I told them I
intended by no means to encourage their tricks: but as the prisoner had
never broken his fast since yesterday's dinner, I would wink at his
cheating Mr. Hindley that once. He went down: I set him a stool by the
fire, and offered him a quantity of good things: but he was sick and
could eat little, and my attempts to entertain him were thrown away. He
leant his two elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands and
remained rapt in dumb meditation. On my inquiring the subject of his
thoughts, he answered gravely--'I'm trying to settle how I shall pay
Hindley back. I don't care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last.
I hope he will not die before I do!'

'For shame, Heathcliff!' said I.  'It is for God to punish wicked people;
we should learn to forgive.'

'No, God won't have the satisfaction that I shall,' he returned.  'I only
wish I knew the best way!  Let me alone, and I'll plan it out: while I'm
thinking of that I don't feel pain.'

'But, Mr. Lockwood, I forget these tales cannot divert you.  I'm annoyed
how I should dream of chattering on at such a rate; and your gruel cold,
and you nodding for bed!  I could have told Heathcliff's history, all
that you need hear, in half a dozen words.'

* * * * *

Thus interrupting herself, the housekeeper rose, and proceeded to lay
aside her sewing; but I felt incapable of moving from the hearth, and I
was very far from nodding.  'Sit still, Mrs. Dean,' I cried; 'do sit
still another half-hour.  You've done just right to tell the story
leisurely.  That is the method I like; and you must finish it in the same
style.  I am interested in every character you have mentioned, more or
less.'

'The clock is on the stroke of eleven, sir.'

'No matter--I'm not accustomed to go to bed in the long hours.  One or
two is early enough for a person who lies till ten.'

'You shouldn't lie till ten.  There's the very prime of the morning gone
long before that time.  A person who has not done one-half his day's work
by ten o'clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.'

'Nevertheless, Mrs. Dean, resume your chair; because to-morrow I intend
lengthening the night till afternoon.  I prognosticate for myself an
obstinate cold, at least.'

'I hope not, sir.  Well, you must allow me to leap over some three years;
during that space Mrs. Earnshaw--'

'No, no, I'll allow nothing of the sort!  Are you acquainted with the
mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking its
kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so intently
that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously out of temper?'

'A terribly lazy mood, I should say.'

'On the contrary, a tiresomely active one. It is mine, at present; and,
therefore, continue minutely. I perceive that people in these regions
acquire over people in towns the value that a spider in a dungeon does
over a spider in a cottage, to their various occupants; and yet the
deepened attraction is not entirely owing to the situation of the
looker-on. They _do_ live more in earnest, more in themselves, and less
in surface, change, and frivolous external things. I could fancy a love
for life here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever in any love
of a year's standing. One state resembles setting a hungry man down to a
single dish, on which he may concentrate his entire appetite and do it
justice; the other, introducing him to a table laid out by French cooks:
he can perhaps extract as much enjoyment from the whole; but each part
is a mere atom in his regard and remembrance.'

'Oh! here we are the same as anywhere else, when you get to know us,'
observed Mrs. Dean, somewhat puzzled at my speech.

'Excuse me,' I responded; 'you, my good friend, are a striking evidence
against that assertion.  Excepting a few provincialisms of slight
consequence, you have no marks of the manners which I am habituated to
consider as peculiar to your class.  I am sure you have thought a great
deal more than the generality of servants think.  You have been compelled
to cultivate your reflective faculties for want of occasions for
frittering your life away in silly trifles.'

Mrs. Dean laughed.

'I certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body,' she said;
'not exactly from living among the hills and seeing one set of faces, and
one series of actions, from year's end to year's end; but I have
undergone sharp discipline, which has taught me wisdom; and then, I have
read more than you would fancy, Mr. Lockwood.  You could not open a book
in this library that I have not looked into, and got something out of
also: unless it be that range of Greek and Latin, and that of French; and
those I know one from another: it is as much as you can expect of a poor
man's daughter.  However, if I am to follow my story in true gossip's
fashion, I had better go on; and instead of leaping three years, I will
be content to pass to the next summer--the summer of 1778, that is nearly
twenty-three years ago.'

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mr. Earnshaw's health is failing and he will not hear a bad word against Heathcliff, further alienating Hindley, who is sent away. His servant, Joseph, who is a religious fanatic, has more and more influence over his master. Cathy does not realize the seriousness of her father's condition and this only hits her when he dies. Heathcliff consoles Cathy with talk of the afterlife. Hindley returns for his father's funeral accompanied by his new wife, Frances. He immediately takes control of the farmhouse, moving the servants Joseph and Nelly to the back kitchen, and Heathcliff is to receive no education. He forces him to become the farm laborer. Heathcliff and Cathy are still able to escape the real world and play on the moors. One day, the pair disappears and Hindley orders the doors to be bolted when night draws in. Nelly waits up for them, but Heathcliff returns alone saying that Cathy is at Thrushcross Grange. They had entered the gardens of the Grange with a view to watching Edgar and Isabella Linton, the children of the Linton household in order to make fun of them. They were discovered, and the Lintons' dog bit Cathy, and she was unable to escape. A servant came out and carried Cathy into the Grange. Mr. And Mrs. Linton say that Cathy's injury is too serious, and she must spend the night at the Grange, but Heathcliff is sent away. Mr. Linton calls on Hindley the next day and chastises him over the way he is raising his sister. Hindley takes his anger out on Heathcliff, telling him that he will be thrown out if he ever talks to Cathy again. Cathy remains at the Grange for 5 weeks, during which time Mrs. Linton is determined to transform the wild girl from the moors into a young lady. When she eventually returns to Wuthering Heights she has undergone a transformation. She humiliates Heathcliff in front of Hindley by saying that he looks dirty and is no comparison to Edgar Linton. Heathcliff is deeply hurt by this insult and by the change that has taken place in Cathy. Hindley decides to invite the Lintons for dinner and they agree, provided that Heathcliff is kept away from their children. Hindley agrees. Despite this, Nelly encourages Heathcliff to make himself presentable for when the Lintons arrive. When the Lintons arrive, Heathcliff is sent to the kitchen, but he overhears Edgar insulting him and he throws hot applesauce in Edgar's face. Heathcliff is locked in the attic. Cathy blames Edgar for getting Heathcliff into trouble and after dinner she sneaks away to visit Heathcliff. Heathcliff tells Nelly that he will get his revenge on Hindley one day.