prompt:
Chapter: About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at
Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and two hours after the
mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to miss
Heathcliff, or know Edgar.  The latter's distraction at his bereavement
is a subject too painful to be dwelt on; its after-effects showed how
deep the sorrow sunk.  A great addition, in my eyes, was his being left
without an heir.  I bemoaned that, as I gazed on the feeble orphan; and I
mentally abused old Linton for (what was only natural partiality) the
securing his estate to his own daughter, instead of his son's.  An
unwelcomed infant it was, poor thing!  It might have wailed out of life,
and nobody cared a morsel, during those first hours of existence.  We
redeemed the neglect afterwards; but its beginning was as friendless as
its end is likely to be.

Next morning--bright and cheerful out of doors--stole softened in through
the blinds of the silent room, and suffused the couch and its occupant
with a mellow, tender glow.  Edgar Linton had his head laid on the
pillow, and his eyes shut.  His young and fair features were almost as
deathlike as those of the form beside him, and almost as fixed: but _his_
was the hush of exhausted anguish, and _hers_ of perfect peace.  Her brow
smooth, her lids closed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile; no
angel in heaven could be more beautiful than she appeared.  And I partook
of the infinite calm in which she lay: my mind was never in a holier
frame than while I gazed on that untroubled image of Divine rest.  I
instinctively echoed the words she had uttered a few hours before:
'Incomparably beyond and above us all!  Whether still on earth or now in
heaven, her spirit is at home with God!'

I don't know if it be a peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise than
happy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzied or
despairing mourner share the duty with me.  I see a repose that neither
earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless and
shadowless hereafter--the Eternity they have entered--where life is
boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its
fulness.  I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even
in a love like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed
release!  To be sure, one might have doubted, after the wayward and
impatient existence she had led, whether she merited a haven of peace at
last.  One might doubt in seasons of cold reflection; but not then, in
the presence of her corpse.  It asserted its own tranquillity, which
seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its former inhabitant.

Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir?  I'd give a
great deal to know.

I declined answering Mrs. Dean's question, which struck me as something
heterodox.  She proceeded:

Retracing the course of Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to
think she is; but we'll leave her with her Maker.

The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the
room and steal out to the pure refreshing air.  The servants thought me
gone to shake off the drowsiness of my protracted watch; in reality, my
chief motive was seeing Mr. Heathcliff.  If he had remained among the
larches all night, he would have heard nothing of the stir at the Grange;
unless, perhaps, he might catch the gallop of the messenger going to
Gimmerton.  If he had come nearer, he would probably be aware, from the
lights flitting to and fro, and the opening and shutting of the outer
doors, that all was not right within.  I wished, yet feared, to find him.
I felt the terrible news must be told, and I longed to get it over; but
how to do it I did not know.  He was there--at least, a few yards further
in the park; leant against an old ash-tree, his hat off, and his hair
soaked with the dew that had gathered on the budded branches, and fell
pattering round him.  He had been standing a long time in that position,
for I saw a pair of ousels passing and repassing scarcely three feet from
him, busy in building their nest, and regarding his proximity no more
than that of a piece of timber.  They flew off at my approach, and he
raised his eyes and spoke:--'She's dead!' he said; 'I've not waited for
you to learn that.  Put your handkerchief away--don't snivel before me.
Damn you all! she wants none of your tears!'

I was weeping as much for him as her: we do sometimes pity creatures that
have none of the feeling either for themselves or others.  When I first
looked into his face, I perceived that he had got intelligence of the
catastrophe; and a foolish notion struck me that his heart was quelled
and he prayed, because his lips moved and his gaze was bent on the
ground.

'Yes, she's dead!' I answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks.
'Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if we take
due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good!'

'Did _she_ take due warning, then?' asked Heathcliff, attempting a sneer.
'Did she die like a saint?  Come, give me a true history of the event.
How did--?'

He endeavoured to pronounce the name, but could not manage it; and
compressing his mouth he held a silent combat with his inward agony,
defying, meanwhile, my sympathy with an unflinching, ferocious stare.
'How did she die?' he resumed, at last--fain, notwithstanding his
hardihood, to have a support behind him; for, after the struggle, he
trembled, in spite of himself, to his very finger-ends.

'Poor wretch!' I thought; 'you have a heart and nerves the same as your
brother men!  Why should you be anxious to conceal them?  Your pride
cannot blind God!  You tempt him to wring them, till he forces a cry of
humiliation.'

'Quietly as a lamb!' I answered, aloud.  'She drew a sigh, and stretched
herself, like a child reviving, and sinking again to sleep; and five
minutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!'

'And--did she ever mention me?' he asked, hesitating, as if he dreaded
the answer to his question would introduce details that he could not bear
to hear.

'Her senses never returned: she recognised nobody from the time you left
her,' I said.  'She lies with a sweet smile on her face; and her latest
ideas wandered back to pleasant early days.  Her life closed in a gentle
dream--may she wake as kindly in the other world!'

'May she wake in torment!' he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping
his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion.
'Why, she's a liar to the end!  Where is she?  Not _there_--not in
heaven--not perished--where?  Oh! you said you cared nothing for my
sufferings!  And I pray one prayer--I repeat it till my tongue
stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living;
you said I killed you--haunt me, then!  The murdered _do_ haunt their
murderers, I believe.  I know that ghosts _have_ wandered on earth.  Be
with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only _do_ not leave me in
this abyss, where I cannot find you!  Oh, God! it is unutterable!  I
_cannot_ live without my life!  I _cannot_ live without my soul!'

He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes,
howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death
with knives and spears.  I observed several splashes of blood about the
bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained; probably
the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night.
It hardly moved my compassion--it appalled me: still, I felt reluctant to
quit him so.  But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me
watching, he thundered a command for me to go, and I obeyed.  He was
beyond my skill to quiet or console!

Mrs. Linton's funeral was appointed to take place on the Friday following
her decease; and till then her coffin remained uncovered, and strewn with
flowers and scented leaves, in the great drawing-room.  Linton spent his
days and nights there, a sleepless guardian; and--a circumstance
concealed from all but me--Heathcliff spent his nights, at least,
outside, equally a stranger to repose.  I held no communication with him:
still, I was conscious of his design to enter, if he could; and on the
Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master, from sheer fatigue, had
been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and opened one of the
windows; moved by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on
the faded image of his idol one final adieu.  He did not omit to avail
himself of the opportunity, cautiously and briefly; too cautiously to
betray his presence by the slightest noise.  Indeed, I shouldn't have
discovered that he had been there, except for the disarrangement of the
drapery about the corpse's face, and for observing on the floor a curl of
light hair, fastened with a silver thread; which, on examination, I
ascertained to have been taken from a locket hung round Catherine's neck.
Heathcliff had opened the trinket and cast out its contents, replacing
them by a black lock of his own.  I twisted the two, and enclosed them
together.

Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to attend the remains of his sister
to the grave; he sent no excuse, but he never came; so that, besides her
husband, the mourners were wholly composed of tenants and servants.
Isabella was not asked.

The place of Catherine's interment, to the surprise of the villagers, was
neither in the chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet
by the tombs of her own relations, outside.  It was dug on a green slope
in a corner of the kirk-yard, where the wall is so low that heath and
bilberry-plants have climbed over it from the moor; and peat-mould almost
buries it.  Her husband lies in the same spot now; and they have each a
simple headstone above, and a plain grey block at their feet, to mark the
graves.

That Friday made the last of our fine days for a month.  In the evening
the weather broke: the wind shifted from south to north-east, and brought
rain first, and then sleet and snow.  On the morrow one could hardly
imagine that there had been three weeks of summer: the primroses and
crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts; the larks were silent, the
young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened.  And dreary, and
chill, and dismal, that morrow did creep over!  My master kept his room;
I took possession of the lonely parlour, converting it into a nursery:
and there I was, sitting with the moaning doll of a child laid on my
knee; rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, the still driving
flakes build up the uncurtained window, when the door opened, and some
person entered, out of breath and laughing!  My anger was greater than my
astonishment for a minute.  I supposed it one of the maids, and I
cried--'Have done!  How dare you show your giddiness here; What would Mr.
Linton say if he heard you?'

'Excuse me!' answered a familiar voice; 'but I know Edgar is in bed, and
I cannot stop myself.'

With that the speaker came forward to the fire, panting and holding her
hand to her side.

'I have run the whole way from Wuthering Heights!' she continued, after a
pause; 'except where I've flown.  I couldn't count the number of falls
I've had.  Oh, I'm aching all over!  Don't be alarmed!  There shall be an
explanation as soon as I can give it; only just have the goodness to step
out and order the carriage to take me on to Gimmerton, and tell a servant
to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe.'

The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff.  She certainly seemed in no laughing
predicament: her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and
water; she was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting
her age more than her position: a low frock with short sleeves, and
nothing on either head or neck.  The frock was of light silk, and clung
to her with wet, and her feet were protected merely by thin slippers; add
to this a deep cut under one ear, which only the cold prevented from
bleeding profusely, a white face scratched and bruised, and a frame
hardly able to support itself through fatigue; and you may fancy my first
fright was not much allayed when I had had leisure to examine her.

'My dear young lady,' I exclaimed, 'I'll stir nowhere, and hear nothing,
till you have removed every article of your clothes, and put on dry
things; and certainly you shall not go to Gimmerton to-night, so it is
needless to order the carriage.'

'Certainly I shall,' she said; 'walking or riding: yet I've no objection
to dress myself decently.  And--ah, see how it flows down my neck now!
The fire does make it smart.'

She insisted on my fulfilling her directions, before she would let me
touch her; and not till after the coachman had been instructed to get
ready, and a maid set to pack up some necessary attire, did I obtain her
consent for binding the wound and helping to change her garments.

'Now, Ellen,' she said, when my task was finished and she was seated in
an easy-chair on the hearth, with a cup of tea before her, 'you sit down
opposite me, and put poor Catherine's baby away: I don't like to see it!
You mustn't think I care little for Catherine, because I behaved so
foolishly on entering: I've cried, too, bitterly--yes, more than any one
else has reason to cry.  We parted unreconciled, you remember, and I
sha'n't forgive myself.  But, for all that, I was not going to sympathise
with him--the brute beast!  Oh, give me the poker!  This is the last
thing of his I have about me:' she slipped the gold ring from her third
finger, and threw it on the floor.  'I'll smash it!' she continued,
striking it with childish spite, 'and then I'll burn it!' and she took
and dropped the misused article among the coals.  'There! he shall buy
another, if he gets me back again.  He'd be capable of coming to seek me,
to tease Edgar.  I dare not stay, lest that notion should possess his
wicked head!  And besides, Edgar has not been kind, has he?  And I won't
come suing for his assistance; nor will I bring him into more trouble.
Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here; though, if I had not learned
he was out of the way, I'd have halted at the kitchen, washed my face,
warmed myself, got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again to
anywhere out of the reach of my accursed--of that incarnate goblin!  Ah,
he was in such a fury!  If he had caught me!  It's a pity Earnshaw is not
his match in strength: I wouldn't have run till I'd seen him all but
demolished, had Hindley been able to do it!'

'Well, don't talk so fast, Miss!' I interrupted; 'you'll disorder the
handkerchief I have tied round your face, and make the cut bleed again.
Drink your tea, and take breath, and give over laughing: laughter is
sadly out of place under this roof, and in your condition!'

'An undeniable truth,' she replied.  'Listen to that child!  It maintains
a constant wail--send it out of my hearing for an hour; I sha'n't stay
any longer.'

I rang the bell, and committed it to a servant's care; and then I
inquired what had urged her to escape from Wuthering Heights in such an
unlikely plight, and where she meant to go, as she refused remaining with
us.

'I ought, and I wished to remain,' answered she, 'to cheer Edgar and take
care of the baby, for two things, and because the Grange is my right
home.  But I tell you he wouldn't let me!  Do you think he could bear to
see me grow fat and merry--could bear to think that we were tranquil, and
not resolve on poisoning our comfort?  Now, I have the satisfaction of
being sure that he detests me, to the point of its annoying him seriously
to have me within ear-shot or eyesight: I notice, when I enter his
presence, the muscles of his countenance are involuntarily distorted into
an expression of hatred; partly arising from his knowledge of the good
causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly from original
aversion.  It is strong enough to make me feel pretty certain that he
would not chase me over England, supposing I contrived a clear escape;
and therefore I must get quite away.  I've recovered from my first desire
to be killed by him: I'd rather he'd kill himself!  He has extinguished
my love effectually, and so I'm at my ease.  I can recollect yet how I
loved him; and can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him, if--no,
no!  Even if he had doted on me, the devilish nature would have revealed
its existence somehow.  Catherine had an awfully perverted taste to
esteem him so dearly, knowing him so well.  Monster! would that he could
be blotted out of creation, and out of my memory!'

'Hush, hush!  He's a human being,' I said.  'Be more charitable: there
are worse men than he is yet!'

'He's not a human being,' she retorted; 'and he has no claim on my
charity.  I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death, and
flung it back to me.  People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and since he
has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him: and I would not,
though he groaned from this to his dying day, and wept tears of blood for
Catherine!  No, indeed, indeed, I wouldn't!'  And here Isabella began to
cry; but, immediately dashing the water from her lashes, she recommenced.
'You asked, what has driven me to flight at last?  I was compelled to
attempt it, because I had succeeded in rousing his rage a pitch above his
malignity.  Pulling out the nerves with red hot pincers requires more
coolness than knocking on the head.  He was worked up to forget the
fiendish prudence he boasted of, and proceeded to murderous violence.  I
experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him: the sense of
pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation, so I fairly broke free;
and if ever I come into his hands again he is welcome to a signal
revenge.

'Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral.  He
kept himself sober for the purpose--tolerably sober: not going to bed mad
at six o'clock and getting up drunk at twelve.  Consequently, he rose, in
suicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance; and instead,
he sat down by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by tumblerfuls.

'Heathcliff--I shudder to name him! has been a stranger in the house from
last Sunday till to-day.  Whether the angels have fed him, or his kin
beneath, I cannot tell; but he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a
week.  He has just come home at dawn, and gone up-stairs to his chamber;
locking himself in--as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company!  There
he has continued, praying like a Methodist: only the deity he implored is
senseless dust and ashes; and God, when addressed, was curiously
confounded with his own black father!  After concluding these precious
orisons--and they lasted generally till he grew hoarse and his voice was
strangled in his throat--he would be off again; always straight down to
the Grange!  I wonder Edgar did not send for a constable, and give him
into custody!  For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was
impossible to avoid regarding this season of deliverance from degrading
oppression as a holiday.

'I recovered spirits sufficient to bear Joseph's eternal lectures without
weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot of a
frightened thief than formerly.  You wouldn't think that I should cry at
anything Joseph could say; but he and Hareton are detestable companions.
I'd rather sit with Hindley, and hear his awful talk, than with "t'
little maister" and his staunch supporter, that odious old man!  When
Heathcliff is in, I'm often obliged to seek the kitchen and their
society, or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers; when he is not,
as was the case this week, I establish a table and chair at one corner of
the house fire, and never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself; and
he does not interfere with my arrangements.  He is quieter now than he
used to be, if no one provokes him: more sullen and depressed, and less
furious.  Joseph affirms he's sure he's an altered man: that the Lord has
touched his heart, and he is saved "so as by fire."  I'm puzzled to
detect signs of the favourable change: but it is not my business.

'Yester-evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late on
towards twelve.  It seemed so dismal to go up-stairs, with the wild snow
blowing outside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the kirk-yard
and the new-made grave!  I dared hardly lift my eyes from the page before
me, that melancholy scene so instantly usurped its place.  Hindley sat
opposite, his head leant on his hand; perhaps meditating on the same
subject.  He had ceased drinking at a point below irrationality, and had
neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours.  There was no sound
through the house but the moaning wind, which shook the windows every now
and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and the click of my snuffers
as I removed at intervals the long wick of the candle.  Hareton and
Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed.  It was very, very sad: and
while I read I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the
world, never to be restored.

'The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen
latch: Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual; owing,
I suppose, to the sudden storm.  That entrance was fastened, and we heard
him coming round to get in by the other.  I rose with an irrepressible
expression of what I felt on my lips, which induced my companion, who had
been staring towards the door, to turn and look at me.

'"I'll keep him out five minutes," he exclaimed.  "You won't object?"

'"No, you may keep him out the whole night for me," I answered.  "Do! put
the key in the lock, and draw the bolts."

'Earnshaw accomplished this ere his guest reached the front; he then came
and brought his chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, and
searching in my eyes for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed
from his: as he both looked and felt like an assassin, he couldn't
exactly find that; but he discovered enough to encourage him to speak.

'"You, and I," he said, "have each a great debt to settle with the man
out yonder!  If we were neither of us cowards, we might combine to
discharge it.  Are you as soft as your brother?  Are you willing to
endure to the last, and not once attempt a repayment?"

'"I'm weary of enduring now," I replied; "and I'd be glad of a
retaliation that wouldn't recoil on myself; but treachery and violence
are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them
worse than their enemies."

'"Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery and violence!"
cried Hindley.  "Mrs. Heathcliff, I'll ask you to do nothing; but sit
still and be dumb.  Tell me now, can you?  I'm sure you would have as
much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion of the fiend's existence;
he'll be _your_ death unless you overreach him; and he'll be _my_ ruin.
Damn the hellish villain!  He knocks at the door as if he were master
here already!  Promise to hold your tongue, and before that clock
strikes--it wants three minutes of one--you're a free woman!"

'He took the implements which I described to you in my letter from his
breast, and would have turned down the candle.  I snatched it away,
however, and seized his arm.

'"I'll not hold my tongue!" I said; "you mustn't touch him.  Let the door
remain shut, and be quiet!"

'"No!  I've formed my resolution, and by God I'll execute it!" cried the
desperate being.  "I'll do you a kindness in spite of yourself, and
Hareton justice!  And you needn't trouble your head to screen me;
Catherine is gone.  Nobody alive would regret me, or be ashamed, though I
cut my throat this minute--and it's time to make an end!"

'I might as well have struggled with a bear, or reasoned with a lunatic.
The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended
victim of the fate which awaited him.

'"You'd better seek shelter somewhere else to-night!" I exclaimed, in
rather a triumphant tone.  "Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you, if you
persist in endeavouring to enter."

'"You'd better open the door, you--" he answered, addressing me by some
elegant term that I don't care to repeat.

'"I shall not meddle in the matter," I retorted again.  "Come in and get
shot, if you please.  I've done my duty."

'With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire; having
too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for
the danger that menaced him.  Earnshaw swore passionately at me:
affirming that I loved the villain yet; and calling me all sorts of names
for the base spirit I evinced.  And I, in my secret heart (and conscience
never reproached me), thought what a blessing it would be for _him_
should Heathcliff put him out of misery; and what a blessing for _me_
should he send Heathcliff to his right abode!  As I sat nursing these
reflections, the casement behind me was banged on to the floor by a blow
from the latter individual, and his black countenance looked blightingly
through.  The stanchions stood too close to suffer his shoulders to
follow, and I smiled, exulting in my fancied security.  His hair and
clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp cannibal teeth, revealed
by cold and wrath, gleamed through the dark.

'"Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you repent!" he "girned," as Joseph
calls it.

'"I cannot commit murder," I replied.  "Mr. Hindley stands sentinel with
a knife and loaded pistol."

'"Let me in by the kitchen door," he said.

'"Hindley will be there before me," I answered: "and that's a poor love
of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow!  We were left at peace in our
beds as long as the summer moon shone, but the moment a blast of winter
returns, you must run for shelter!  Heathcliff, if I were you, I'd go
stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog.  The world is
surely not worth living in now, is it?  You had distinctly impressed on
me the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your life: I can't
imagine how you think of surviving her loss."

'"He's there, is he?" exclaimed my companion, rushing to the gap.  "If I
can get my arm out I can hit him!"

'I'm afraid, Ellen, you'll set me down as really wicked; but you don't
know all, so don't judge.  I wouldn't have aided or abetted an attempt on
even _his_ life for anything.  Wish that he were dead, I must; and
therefore I was fearfully disappointed, and unnerved by terror for the
consequences of my taunting speech, when he flung himself on Earnshaw's
weapon and wrenched it from his grasp.

'The charge exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into its
owner's wrist.  Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up the
flesh as it passed on, and thrust it dripping into his pocket.  He then
took a stone, struck down the division between two windows, and sprang
in.  His adversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain and the flow
of blood, that gushed from an artery or a large vein.  The ruffian kicked
and trampled on him, and dashed his head repeatedly against the flags,
holding me with one hand, meantime, to prevent me summoning Joseph.  He
exerted preterhuman self-denial in abstaining from finishing him
completely; but getting out of breath, he finally desisted, and dragged
the apparently inanimate body on to the settle.  There he tore off the
sleeve of Earnshaw's coat, and bound up the wound with brutal roughness;
spitting and cursing during the operation as energetically as he had
kicked before.  Being at liberty, I lost no time in seeking the old
servant; who, having gathered by degrees the purport of my hasty tale,
hurried below, gasping, as he descended the steps two at once.

'"What is ther to do, now? what is ther to do, now?"

'"There's this to do," thundered Heathcliff, "that your master's mad; and
should he last another month, I'll have him to an asylum.  And how the
devil did you come to fasten me out, you toothless hound?  Don't stand
muttering and mumbling there.  Come, I'm not going to nurse him.  Wash
that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your candle--it is more than half
brandy!"

'"And so ye've been murthering on him?" exclaimed Joseph, lifting his
hands and eyes in horror.  "If iver I seed a seeght loike this!  May the
Lord--"

'Heathcliff gave him a push on to his knees in the middle of the blood,
and flung a towel to him; but instead of proceeding to dry it up, he
joined his hands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter from its
odd phraseology.  I was in the condition of mind to be shocked at
nothing: in fact, I was as reckless as some malefactors show themselves
at the foot of the gallows.

'"Oh, I forgot you," said the tyrant.  "You shall do that.  Down with
you.  And you conspire with him against me, do you, viper?  There, that
is work fit for you!"

'He shook me till my teeth rattled, and pitched me beside Joseph, who
steadily concluded his supplications, and then rose, vowing he would set
off for the Grange directly.  Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he
had fifty wives dead, he should inquire into this.  He was so obstinate
in his resolution, that Heathcliff deemed it expedient to compel from my
lips a recapitulation of what had taken place; standing over me, heaving
with malevolence, as I reluctantly delivered the account in answer to his
questions.  It required a great deal of labour to satisfy the old man
that Heathcliff was not the aggressor; especially with my hardly-wrung
replies.  However, Mr. Earnshaw soon convinced him that he was alive
still; Joseph hastened to administer a dose of spirits, and by their
succour his master presently regained motion and consciousness.
Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant of the treatment
received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated; and said
he should not notice his atrocious conduct further, but advised him to
get to bed.  To my joy, he left us, after giving this judicious counsel,
and Hindley stretched himself on the hearthstone.  I departed to my own
room, marvelling that I had escaped so easily.

'This morning, when I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr.
Earnshaw was sitting by the fire, deadly sick; his evil genius, almost as
gaunt and ghastly, leant against the chimney.  Neither appeared inclined
to dine, and, having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced
alone.  Nothing hindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced a
certain sense of satisfaction and superiority, as, at intervals, I cast a
look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of a quiet
conscience within me.  After I had done, I ventured on the unusual
liberty of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw's seat, and
kneeling in the corner beside him.

'Heathcliff did not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated his
features almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone.  His
forehead, that I once thought so manly, and that I now think so
diabolical, was shaded with a heavy cloud; his basilisk eyes were nearly
quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping, perhaps, for the lashes were wet
then: his lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in an
expression of unspeakable sadness.  Had it been another, I would have
covered my face in the presence of such grief.  In _his_ case, I was
gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I couldn't
miss this chance of sticking in a dart: his weakness was the only time
when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong.'

'Fie, fie, Miss!' I interrupted.  'One might suppose you had never opened
a Bible in your life.  If God afflict your enemies, surely that ought to
suffice you.  It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to
his!'

'In general I'll allow that it would be, Ellen,' she continued; 'but what
misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand in it?
I'd rather he suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings and he might
_know_ that I was the cause.  Oh, I owe him so much.  On only one
condition can I hope to forgive him.  It is, if I may take an eye for an
eye, a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench of agony return a wrench:
reduce him to my level.  As he was the first to injure, make him the
first to implore pardon; and then--why then, Ellen, I might show you some
generosity.  But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and
therefore I cannot forgive him.  Hindley wanted some water, and I handed
him a glass, and asked him how he was.

'"Not as ill as I wish," he replied.  "But leaving out my arm, every inch
of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with a legion of imps!"

'"Yes, no wonder," was my next remark.  "Catherine used to boast that she
stood between you and bodily harm: she meant that certain persons would
not hurt you for fear of offending her.  It's well people don't _really_
rise from their grave, or, last night, she might have witnessed a
repulsive scene!  Are not you bruised, and cut over your chest and
shoulders?"

'"I can't say," he answered, "but what do you mean?  Did he dare to
strike me when I was down?"

'"He trampled on and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground," I
whispered.  "And his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth; because
he's only half man: not so much, and the rest fiend."

'Mr. Earnshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe;
who, absorbed in his anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him:
the longer he stood, the plainer his reflections revealed their blackness
through his features.

'"Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in my last agony,
I'd go to hell with joy," groaned the impatient man, writhing to rise,
and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the
struggle.

'"Nay, it's enough that he has murdered one of you," I observed aloud.
"At the Grange, every one knows your sister would have been living now
had it not been for Mr. Heathcliff.  After all, it is preferable to be
hated than loved by him.  When I recollect how happy we were--how happy
Catherine was before he came--I'm fit to curse the day."

'Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, than
the spirit of the person who said it.  His attention was roused, I saw,
for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in
suffocating sighs.  I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully.  The
clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me; the fiend which
usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned that I did not
fear to hazard another sound of derision.

'"Get up, and begone out of my sight," said the mourner.

'I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardly
intelligible.

'"I beg your pardon," I replied.  "But I loved Catherine too; and her
brother requires attendance, which, for her sake, I shall supply.  Now,
that she's dead, I see her in Hindley: Hindley has exactly her eyes, if
you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black and red; and
her--"

'"Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!" he cried, making
a movement that caused me to make one also.

'"But then," I continued, holding myself ready to flee, "if poor
Catherine had trusted you, and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible,
degrading title of Mrs. Heathcliff, she would soon have presented a
similar picture!  _She_ wouldn't have borne your abominable behaviour
quietly: her detestation and disgust must have found voice."

'The back of the settle and Earnshaw's person interposed between me and
him; so instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner-knife
from the table and flung it at my head.  It struck beneath my ear, and
stopped the sentence I was uttering; but, pulling it out, I sprang to the
door and delivered another; which I hope went a little deeper than his
missile.  The last glimpse I caught of him was a furious rush on his
part, checked by the embrace of his host; and both fell locked together
on the hearth.  In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph speed to
his master; I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a litter of puppies
from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as a soul escaped from
purgatory, I bounded, leaped, and flew down the steep road; then,
quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks,
and wading through marshes: precipitating myself, in fact, towards the
beacon-light of the Grange.  And far rather would I be condemned to a
perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions than, even for one night,
abide beneath the roof of Wuthering Heights again.'

Isabella ceased speaking, and took a drink of tea; then she rose, and
bidding me put on her bonnet, and a great shawl I had brought, and
turning a deaf ear to my entreaties for her to remain another hour, she
stepped on to a chair, kissed Edgar's and Catherine's portraits, bestowed
a similar salute on me, and descended to the carriage, accompanied by
Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her mistress.  She was
driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood: but a regular
correspondence was established between her and my master when things were
more settled.  I believe her new abode was in the south, near London;
there she had a son born a few months subsequent to her escape.  He was
christened Linton, and, from the first, she reported him to be an ailing,
peevish creature.

Mr. Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where she
lived.  I refused to tell.  He remarked that it was not of any moment,
only she must beware of coming to her brother: she should not be with
him, if he had to keep her himself.  Though I would give no information,
he discovered, through some of the other servants, both her place of
residence and the existence of the child.  Still, he didn't molest her:
for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose.  He often
asked about the infant, when he saw me; and on hearing its name, smiled
grimly, and observed: 'They wish me to hate it too, do they?'

'I don't think they wish you to know anything about it,' I answered.

'But I'll have it,' he said, 'when I want it.  They may reckon on that!'

Fortunately its mother died before the time arrived; some thirteen years
after the decease of Catherine, when Linton was twelve, or a little more.

On the day succeeding Isabella's unexpected visit I had no opportunity of
speaking to my master: he shunned conversation, and was fit for
discussing nothing.  When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased him
that his sister had left her husband; whom he abhorred with an intensity
which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to allow.  So deep
and sensitive was his aversion, that he refrained from going anywhere
where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff.  Grief, and that
together, transformed him into a complete hermit: he threw up his office
of magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided the village on all
occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his
park and grounds; only varied by solitary rambles on the moors, and
visits to the grave of his wife, mostly at evening, or early morning
before other wanderers were abroad.  But he was too good to be thoroughly
unhappy long.  _He_ didn't pray for Catherine's soul to haunt him.  Time
brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.  He
recalled her memory with ardent, tender love, and hopeful aspiring to the
better world; where he doubted not she was gone.

And he had earthly consolation and affections also.  For a few days, I
said, he seemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed: that
coldness melted as fast as snow in April, and ere the tiny thing could
stammer a word or totter a step it wielded a despot's sceptre in his
heart.  It was named Catherine; but he never called it the name in full,
as he had never called the first Catherine short: probably because
Heathcliff had a habit of doing so.  The little one was always Cathy: it
formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection with
her; and his attachment sprang from its relation to her, far more than
from its being his own.

I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplex
myself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in
similar circumstances.  They had both been fond husbands, and were both
attached to their children; and I could not see how they shouldn't both
have taken the same road, for good or evil.  But, I thought in my mind,
Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the
worse and the weaker man.  When his ship struck, the captain abandoned
his post; and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed into riot
and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel.  Linton, on the
contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul: he
trusted God; and God comforted him.  One hoped, and the other despaired:
they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them.
But you'll not want to hear my moralising, Mr. Lockwood; you'll judge, as
well as I can, all these things: at least, you'll think you will, and
that's the same.  The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected;
it followed fast on his sister's: there were scarcely six months between
them.  We, at the Grange, never got a very succinct account of his state
preceding it; all that I did learn was on occasion of going to aid in the
preparations for the funeral.  Mr. Kenneth came to announce the event to
my master.

'Well, Nelly,' said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not
to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news, 'it's yours and my
turn to go into mourning at present.  Who's given us the slip now, do you
think?'

'Who?' I asked in a flurry.

'Why, guess!' he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle on a hook
by the door.  'And nip up the corner of your apron: I'm certain you'll
need it.'

'Not Mr. Heathcliff, surely?' I exclaimed.

'What! would you have tears for him?' said the doctor.  'No, Heathcliff's
a tough young fellow: he looks blooming to-day.  I've just seen him.  He's
rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his better half.'

'Who is it, then, Mr. Kenneth?' I repeated impatiently.

'Hindley Earnshaw!  Your old friend Hindley,' he replied, 'and my wicked
gossip: though he's been too wild for me this long while.  There!  I said
we should draw water.  But cheer up!  He died true to his character:
drunk as a lord.  Poor lad!  I'm sorry, too.  One can't help missing an
old companion: though he had the worst tricks with him that ever man
imagined, and has done me many a rascally turn.  He's barely
twenty-seven, it seems; that's your own age: who would have thought you
were born in one year?'

I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton's
death: ancient associations lingered round my heart; I sat down in the
porch and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr. Kenneth to get
another servant to introduce him to the master.  I could not hinder
myself from pondering on the question--'Had he had fair play?'  Whatever
I did, that idea would bother me: it was so tiresomely pertinacious that
I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights, and assist in
the last duties to the dead.  Mr. Linton was extremely reluctant to
consent, but I pleaded eloquently for the friendless condition in which
he lay; and I said my old master and foster-brother had a claim on my
services as strong as his own.  Besides, I reminded him that the child
Hareton was his wife's nephew, and, in the absence of nearer kin, he
ought to act as its guardian; and he ought to and must inquire how the
property was left, and look over the concerns of his brother-in-law.  He
was unfit for attending to such matters then, but he bid me speak to his
lawyer; and at length permitted me to go.  His lawyer had been Earnshaw's
also: I called at the village, and asked him to accompany me.  He shook
his head, and advised that Heathcliff should be let alone; affirming, if
the truth were known, Hareton would be found little else than a beggar.

'His father died in debt,' he said; 'the whole property is mortgaged, and
the sole chance for the natural heir is to allow him an opportunity of
creating some interest in the creditor's heart, that he may be inclined
to deal leniently towards him.'

When I reached the Heights, I explained that I had come to see everything
carried on decently; and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress,
expressed satisfaction at my presence.  Mr. Heathcliff said he did not
perceive that I was wanted; but I might stay and order the arrangements
for the funeral, if I chose.

'Correctly,' he remarked, 'that fool's body should be buried at the
cross-roads, without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him ten
minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the two
doors of the house against me, and he has spent the night in drinking
himself to death deliberately! We broke in this morning, for we heard
him sporting like a horse; and there he was, laid over the settle:
flaying and scalping would not have wakened him. I sent for Kenneth, and
he came; but not till the beast had changed into carrion: he was both
dead and cold, and stark; and so you'll allow it was useless making more
stir about him!'

The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered:

'I'd rayther he'd goan hisseln for t' doctor!  I sud ha' taen tent o' t'
maister better nor him--and he warn't deead when I left, naught o' t'
soart!'

I insisted on the funeral being respectable.  Mr. Heathcliff said I might
have my own way there too: only, he desired me to remember that the money
for the whole affair came out of his pocket.  He maintained a hard,
careless deportment, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow: if anything,
it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult work
successfully executed.  I observed once, indeed, something like
exultation in his aspect: it was just when the people were bearing the
coffin from the house.  He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and
previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to
the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are
_mine_!  And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with
the same wind to twist it!'  The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this
speech: he played with Heathcliff's whiskers, and stroked his cheek; but
I divined its meaning, and observed tartly, 'That boy must go back with
me to Thrushcross Grange, sir.  There is nothing in the world less yours
than he is!'

'Does Linton say so?' he demanded.

'Of course--he has ordered me to take him,' I replied.

'Well,' said the scoundrel, 'we'll not argue the subject now: but I have
a fancy to try my hand at rearing a young one; so intimate to your master
that I must supply the place of this with my own, if he attempt to remove
it.  I don't engage to let Hareton go undisputed; but I'll be pretty sure
to make the other come!  Remember to tell him.'

This hint was enough to bind our hands.  I repeated its substance on my
return; and Edgar Linton, little interested at the commencement, spoke no
more of interfering.  I'm not aware that he could have done it to any
purpose, had he been ever so willing.

The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights: he held firm
possession, and proved to the attorney--who, in his turn, proved it to
Mr. Linton--that Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned for
cash to supply his mania for gaming; and he, Heathcliff, was the
mortgagee.  In that manner Hareton, who should now be the first gentleman
in the neighbourhood, was reduced to a state of complete dependence on
his father's inveterate enemy; and lives in his own house as a servant,
deprived of the advantage of wages: quite unable to right himself,
because of his friendlessness, and his ignorance that he has been
wronged.

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

completion: Cathy gives birth to a daughter called Catherine. She is two month's premature and shortly after, Cathy dies. Heathcliff soon learns of Cathy's death and is angered to learn that she did not mention his name during her dying moments. He curses her spirit while grieving over his loss. Before the funeral Edgar watches over Cathy's body by day and Heathcliff watches by night. Cathy wears a locket around her neck, which contains a lock of Edgar's hair. Heathcliff removes this and replaces it with a lock of his own hair. Nelly finds the strands of Edgar's hair and ends up entwining both his and Heathcliff's in the locket. Cathy is buried in the plot closest to the moors away from her relatives and also the Linton tomb. Isabella arrives at the Grange in a poor state, but she knows that Edgar will not allow her to stay. She is merely seeking assistance. There has been confrontation at Wuthering Heights, for when Heathcliff returned from keeping vigil at Cathy's grave, Hindley locked him out. Hindley wants to murder Heathcliff. Eventually Heathcliff gains access and beats Hindley viciously. The next day the fighting resumes and Isabella makes her escape. After this, Isabella went to London and gave birth to a son, Linton. The brother and sister engage in correspondence and are reconciled to some extent. Isabella dies 13 years later. Hindley died 6 months after Cathy's death and Nelly returned to Wuthering Heights in order to bring young Hareton back to Thrushcross Grange. It transpires that Hindley was in debt, and Heathcliff had loaned him large amounts of money in order to feed his gambling habits, and he now owns Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff tells Nelly that he will raise Hareton and that he also plans to take his son, Linton, from Isabella in London.


prompt:
Chapter: The twelve years, continued Mrs. Dean, following that dismal period were
the happiest of my life: my greatest troubles in their passage rose from
our little lady's trifling illnesses, which she had to experience in
common with all children, rich and poor.  For the rest, after the first
six months, she grew like a larch, and could walk and talk too, in her
own way, before the heath blossomed a second time over Mrs. Linton's
dust.  She was the most winning thing that ever brought sunshine into a
desolate house: a real beauty in face, with the Earnshaws' handsome dark
eyes, but the Lintons' fair skin and small features, and yellow curling
hair.  Her spirit was high, though not rough, and qualified by a heart
sensitive and lively to excess in its affections.  That capacity for
intense attachments reminded me of her mother: still she did not resemble
her: for she could be soft and mild as a dove, and she had a gentle voice
and pensive expression: her anger was never furious; her love never
fierce: it was deep and tender.  However, it must be acknowledged, she
had faults to foil her gifts.  A propensity to be saucy was one; and a
perverse will, that indulged children invariably acquire, whether they be
good tempered or cross.  If a servant chanced to vex her, it was
always--'I shall tell papa!'  And if he reproved her, even by a look, you
would have thought it a heart-breaking business: I don't believe he ever
did speak a harsh word to her.  He took her education entirely on
himself, and made it an amusement.  Fortunately, curiosity and a quick
intellect made her an apt scholar: she learned rapidly and eagerly, and
did honour to his teaching.

Till she reached the age of thirteen she had not once been beyond the
range of the park by herself.  Mr. Linton would take her with him a mile
or so outside, on rare occasions; but he trusted her to no one else.
Gimmerton was an unsubstantial name in her ears; the chapel, the only
building she had approached or entered, except her own home.  Wuthering
Heights and Mr. Heathcliff did not exist for her: she was a perfect
recluse; and, apparently, perfectly contented.  Sometimes, indeed, while
surveying the country from her nursery window, she would observe--

'Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those hills?
I wonder what lies on the other side--is it the sea?'

'No, Miss Cathy,' I would answer; 'it is hills again, just like these.'

'And what are those golden rocks like when you stand under them?' she
once asked.

The abrupt descent of Penistone Crags particularly attracted her notice;
especially when the setting sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and
the whole extent of landscape besides lay in shadow.  I explained that
they were bare masses of stone, with hardly enough earth in their clefts
to nourish a stunted tree.

'And why are they bright so long after it is evening here?' she pursued.

'Because they are a great deal higher up than we are,' replied I; 'you
could not climb them, they are too high and steep.  In winter the frost
is always there before it comes to us; and deep into summer I have found
snow under that black hollow on the north-east side!'

'Oh, you have been on them!' she cried gleefully.  'Then I can go, too,
when I am a woman.  Has papa been, Ellen?'

'Papa would tell you, Miss,' I answered, hastily, 'that they are not
worth the trouble of visiting.  The moors, where you ramble with him, are
much nicer; and Thrushcross Park is the finest place in the world.'

'But I know the park, and I don't know those,' she murmured to herself.
'And I should delight to look round me from the brow of that tallest
point: my little pony Minny shall take me some time.'

One of the maids mentioning the Fairy Cave, quite turned her head with a
desire to fulfil this project: she teased Mr. Linton about it; and he
promised she should have the journey when she got older.  But Miss
Catherine measured her age by months, and, 'Now, am I old enough to go to
Penistone Crags?' was the constant question in her mouth.  The road
thither wound close by Wuthering Heights.  Edgar had not the heart to
pass it; so she received as constantly the answer, 'Not yet, love: not
yet.'

I said Mrs. Heathcliff lived above a dozen years after quitting her
husband.  Her family were of a delicate constitution: she and Edgar both
lacked the ruddy health that you will generally meet in these parts.  What
her last illness was, I am not certain: I conjecture, they died of the
same thing, a kind of fever, slow at its commencement, but incurable, and
rapidly consuming life towards the close.  She wrote to inform her
brother of the probable conclusion of a four-months' indisposition under
which she had suffered, and entreated him to come to her, if possible;
for she had much to settle, and she wished to bid him adieu, and deliver
Linton safely into his hands.  Her hope was that Linton might be left
with him, as he had been with her: his father, she would fain convince
herself, had no desire to assume the burden of his maintenance or
education.  My master hesitated not a moment in complying with her
request: reluctant as he was to leave home at ordinary calls, he flew to
answer this; commanding Catherine to my peculiar vigilance, in his
absence, with reiterated orders that she must not wander out of the park,
even under my escort he did not calculate on her going unaccompanied.

He was away three weeks.  The first day or two my charge sat in a corner
of the library, too sad for either reading or playing: in that quiet
state she caused me little trouble; but it was succeeded by an interval
of impatient, fretful weariness; and being too busy, and too old then, to
run up and down amusing her, I hit on a method by which she might
entertain herself.  I used to send her on her travels round the
grounds--now on foot, and now on a pony; indulging her with a patient
audience of all her real and imaginary adventures when she returned.

The summer shone in full prime; and she took such a taste for this
solitary rambling that she often contrived to remain out from breakfast
till tea; and then the evenings were spent in recounting her fanciful
tales.  I did not fear her breaking bounds; because the gates were
generally locked, and I thought she would scarcely venture forth alone,
if they had stood wide open.  Unluckily, my confidence proved misplaced.
Catherine came to me, one morning, at eight o'clock, and said she was
that day an Arabian merchant, going to cross the Desert with his caravan;
and I must give her plenty of provision for herself and beasts: a horse,
and three camels, personated by a large hound and a couple of pointers.  I
got together good store of dainties, and slung them in a basket on one
side of the saddle; and she sprang up as gay as a fairy, sheltered by her
wide-brimmed hat and gauze veil from the July sun, and trotted off with a
merry laugh, mocking my cautious counsel to avoid galloping, and come
back early.  The naughty thing never made her appearance at tea.  One
traveller, the hound, being an old dog and fond of its ease, returned;
but neither Cathy, nor the pony, nor the two pointers were visible in any
direction: I despatched emissaries down this path, and that path, and at
last went wandering in search of her myself.  There was a labourer
working at a fence round a plantation, on the borders of the grounds.  I
inquired of him if he had seen our young lady.

'I saw her at morn,' he replied: 'she would have me to cut her a hazel
switch, and then she leapt her Galloway over the hedge yonder, where it
is lowest, and galloped out of sight.'

You may guess how I felt at hearing this news.  It struck me directly she
must have started for Penistone Crags.  'What will become of her?' I
ejaculated, pushing through a gap which the man was repairing, and making
straight to the high-road.  I walked as if for a wager, mile after mile,
till a turn brought me in view of the Heights; but no Catherine could I
detect, far or near.  The Crags lie about a mile and a half beyond Mr.
Heathcliff's place, and that is four from the Grange, so I began to fear
night would fall ere I could reach them.  'And what if she should have
slipped in clambering among them,' I reflected, 'and been killed, or
broken some of her bones?'  My suspense was truly painful; and, at first,
it gave me delightful relief to observe, in hurrying by the farmhouse,
Charlie, the fiercest of the pointers, lying under a window, with swelled
head and bleeding ear.  I opened the wicket and ran to the door, knocking
vehemently for admittance.  A woman whom I knew, and who formerly lived
at Gimmerton, answered: she had been servant there since the death of Mr.
Earnshaw.

'Ah,' said she, 'you are come a-seeking your little mistress!  Don't be
frightened.  She's here safe: but I'm glad it isn't the master.'

'He is not at home then, is he?' I panted, quite breathless with quick
walking and alarm.

'No, no,' she replied: 'both he and Joseph are off, and I think they
won't return this hour or more.  Step in and rest you a bit.'

I entered, and beheld my stray lamb seated on the hearth, rocking herself
in a little chair that had been her mother's when a child.  Her hat was
hung against the wall, and she seemed perfectly at home, laughing and
chattering, in the best spirits imaginable, to Hareton--now a great,
strong lad of eighteen--who stared at her with considerable curiosity and
astonishment: comprehending precious little of the fluent succession of
remarks and questions which her tongue never ceased pouring forth.

'Very well, Miss!' I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angry
countenance.  'This is your last ride, till papa comes back.  I'll not
trust you over the threshold again, you naughty, naughty girl!'

'Aha, Ellen!' she cried, gaily, jumping up and running to my side.  'I
shall have a pretty story to tell to-night; and so you've found me out.
Have you ever been here in your life before?'

'Put that hat on, and home at once,' said I.  'I'm dreadfully grieved at
you, Miss Cathy: you've done extremely wrong!  It's no use pouting and
crying: that won't repay the trouble I've had, scouring the country after
you.  To think how Mr. Linton charged me to keep you in; and you stealing
off so!  It shows you are a cunning little fox, and nobody will put faith
in you any more.'

'What have I done?' sobbed she, instantly checked.  'Papa charged me
nothing: he'll not scold me, Ellen--he's never cross, like you!'

'Come, come!' I repeated.  'I'll tie the riband.  Now, let us have no
petulance.  Oh, for shame!  You thirteen years old, and such a baby!'

This exclamation was caused by her pushing the hat from her head, and
retreating to the chimney out of my reach.

'Nay,' said the servant, 'don't be hard on the bonny lass, Mrs. Dean.  We
made her stop: she'd fain have ridden forwards, afeard you should be
uneasy.  Hareton offered to go with her, and I thought he should: it's a
wild road over the hills.'

Hareton, during the discussion, stood with his hands in his pockets, too
awkward to speak; though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.

'How long am I to wait?' I continued, disregarding the woman's
interference.  'It will be dark in ten minutes.  Where is the pony, Miss
Cathy?  And where is Phoenix?  I shall leave you, unless you be quick; so
please yourself.'

'The pony is in the yard,' she replied, 'and Phoenix is shut in there.
He's bitten--and so is Charlie.  I was going to tell you all about it;
but you are in a bad temper, and don't deserve to hear.'

I picked up her hat, and approached to reinstate it; but perceiving that
the people of the house took her part, she commenced capering round the
room; and on my giving chase, ran like a mouse over and under and behind
the furniture, rendering it ridiculous for me to pursue.  Hareton and the
woman laughed, and she joined them, and waxed more impertinent still;
till I cried, in great irritation,--'Well, Miss Cathy, if you were aware
whose house this is you'd be glad enough to get out.'

'It's _your_ father's, isn't it?' said she, turning to Hareton.

'Nay,' he replied, looking down, and blushing bashfully.

He could not stand a steady gaze from her eyes, though they were just his
own.

'Whose then--your master's?' she asked.

He coloured deeper, with a different feeling, muttered an oath, and
turned away.

'Who is his master?' continued the tiresome girl, appealing to me.  'He
talked about "our house," and "our folk."  I thought he had been the
owner's son.  And he never said Miss: he should have done, shouldn't he,
if he's a servant?'

Hareton grew black as a thunder-cloud at this childish speech.  I
silently shook my questioner, and at last succeeded in equipping her for
departure.

'Now, get my horse,' she said, addressing her unknown kinsman as she
would one of the stable-boys at the Grange.  'And you may come with me.  I
want to see where the goblin-hunter rises in the marsh, and to hear about
the _fairishes_, as you call them: but make haste!  What's the matter?
Get my horse, I say.'

'I'll see thee damned before I be _thy_ servant!' growled the lad.

'You'll see me _what_!' asked Catherine in surprise.

'Damned--thou saucy witch!' he replied.

'There, Miss Cathy! you see you have got into pretty company,' I
interposed.  'Nice words to be used to a young lady!  Pray don't begin to
dispute with him.  Come, let us seek for Minny ourselves, and begone.'

'But, Ellen,' cried she, staring fixed in astonishment, 'how dare he
speak so to me?  Mustn't he be made to do as I ask him?  You wicked
creature, I shall tell papa what you said.--Now, then!'

Hareton did not appear to feel this threat; so the tears sprang into her
eyes with indignation.  'You bring the pony,' she exclaimed, turning to
the woman, 'and let my dog free this moment!'

'Softly, Miss,' answered she addressed; 'you'll lose nothing by being
civil.  Though Mr. Hareton, there, be not the master's son, he's your
cousin: and I was never hired to serve you.'

'_He_ my cousin!' cried Cathy, with a scornful laugh.

'Yes, indeed,' responded her reprover.

'Oh, Ellen! don't let them say such things,' she pursued in great
trouble.  'Papa is gone to fetch my cousin from London: my cousin is a
gentleman's son.  That my--' she stopped, and wept outright; upset at the
bare notion of relationship with such a clown.

'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all
sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't
keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad.'

'He's not--he's not my cousin, Ellen!' she went on, gathering fresh grief
from reflection, and flinging herself into my arms for refuge from the
idea.

I was much vexed at her and the servant for their mutual revelations;
having no doubt of Linton's approaching arrival, communicated by the
former, being reported to Mr. Heathcliff; and feeling as confident that
Catherine's first thought on her father's return would be to seek an
explanation of the latter's assertion concerning her rude-bred kindred.
Hareton, recovering from his disgust at being taken for a servant, seemed
moved by her distress; and, having fetched the pony round to the door, he
took, to propitiate her, a fine crooked-legged terrier whelp from the
kennel, and putting it into her hand, bid her whist! for he meant nought.
Pausing in her lamentations, she surveyed him with a glance of awe and
horror, then burst forth anew.

I could scarcely refrain from smiling at this antipathy to the poor
fellow; who was a well-made, athletic youth, good-looking in features,
and stout and healthy, but attired in garments befitting his daily
occupations of working on the farm and lounging among the moors after
rabbits and game.  Still, I thought I could detect in his physiognomy a
mind owning better qualities than his father ever possessed.  Good things
lost amid a wilderness of weeds, to be sure, whose rankness far
over-topped their neglected growth; yet, notwithstanding, evidence of a
wealthy soil, that might yield luxuriant crops under other and favourable
circumstances.  Mr. Heathcliff, I believe, had not treated him physically
ill; thanks to his fearless nature, which offered no temptation to that
course of oppression: he had none of the timid susceptibility that would
have given zest to ill-treatment, in Heathcliff's judgment.  He appeared
to have bent his malevolence on making him a brute: he was never taught
to read or write; never rebuked for any bad habit which did not annoy his
keeper; never led a single step towards virtue, or guarded by a single
precept against vice.  And from what I heard, Joseph contributed much to
his deterioration, by a narrow-minded partiality which prompted him to
flatter and pet him, as a boy, because he was the head of the old family.
And as he had been in the habit of accusing Catherine Earnshaw and
Heathcliff, when children, of putting the master past his patience, and
compelling him to seek solace in drink by what he termed their 'offald
ways,' so at present he laid the whole burden of Hareton's faults on the
shoulders of the usurper of his property.  If the lad swore, he wouldn't
correct him: nor however culpably he behaved.  It gave Joseph
satisfaction, apparently, to watch him go the worst lengths: he allowed
that the lad was ruined: that his soul was abandoned to perdition; but
then he reflected that Heathcliff must answer for it.  Hareton's blood
would be required at his hands; and there lay immense consolation in that
thought.  Joseph had instilled into him a pride of name, and of his
lineage; he would, had he dared, have fostered hate between him and the
present owner of the Heights: but his dread of that owner amounted to
superstition; and he confined his feelings regarding him to muttered
innuendoes and private comminations.  I don't pretend to be intimately
acquainted with the mode of living customary in those days at Wuthering
Heights: I only speak from hearsay; for I saw little.  The villagers
affirmed Mr. Heathcliff was _near_, and a cruel hard landlord to his
tenants; but the house, inside, had regained its ancient aspect of
comfort under female management, and the scenes of riot common in
Hindley's time were not now enacted within its walls.  The master was too
gloomy to seek companionship with any people, good or bad; and he is yet.

This, however, is not making progress with my story.  Miss Cathy rejected
the peace-offering of the terrier, and demanded her own dogs, Charlie and
Phoenix.  They came limping and hanging their heads; and we set out for
home, sadly out of sorts, every one of us.  I could not wring from my
little lady how she had spent the day; except that, as I supposed, the
goal of her pilgrimage was Penistone Crags; and she arrived without
adventure to the gate of the farm-house, when Hareton happened to issue
forth, attended by some canine followers, who attacked her train.  They
had a smart battle, before their owners could separate them: that formed
an introduction.  Catherine told Hareton who she was, and where she was
going; and asked him to show her the way: finally, beguiling him to
accompany her.  He opened the mysteries of the Fairy Cave, and twenty
other queer places.  But, being in disgrace, I was not favoured with a
description of the interesting objects she saw.  I could gather, however,
that her guide had been a favourite till she hurt his feelings by
addressing him as a servant; and Heathcliff's housekeeper hurt hers by
calling him her cousin.  Then the language he had held to her rankled in
her heart; she who was always 'love,' and 'darling,' and 'queen,' and
'angel,' with everybody at the Grange, to be insulted so shockingly by a
stranger!  She did not comprehend it; and hard work I had to obtain a
promise that she would not lay the grievance before her father.  I
explained how he objected to the whole household at the Heights, and how
sorry he would be to find she had been there; but I insisted most on the
fact, that if she revealed my negligence of his orders, he would perhaps
be so angry that I should have to leave; and Cathy couldn't bear that
prospect: she pledged her word, and kept it for my sake.  After all, she
was a sweet little girl.

A letter, edged with black, announced the day of my master's return.
Isabella was dead; and he wrote to bid me get mourning for his daughter,
and arrange a room, and other accommodations, for his youthful nephew.
Catherine ran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back; and
indulged most sanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies of
her 'real' cousin.  The evening of their expected arrival came.  Since
early morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs; and now
attired in her new black frock--poor thing! her aunt's death impressed
her with no definite sorrow--she obliged me, by constant worrying, to
walk with her down through the grounds to meet them.

'Linton is just six months younger than I am,' she chattered, as we
strolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under
shadow of the trees.  'How delightful it will be to have him for a
playfellow!  Aunt Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair; it was
lighter than mine--more flaxen, and quite as fine.  I have it carefully
preserved in a little glass box; and I've often thought what a pleasure
it would be to see its owner.  Oh! I am happy--and papa, dear, dear papa!
Come, Ellen, let us run! come, run.'

She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footsteps
reached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy bank beside
the path, and tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible: she
couldn't be still a minute.

'How long they are!' she exclaimed.  'Ah, I see, some dust on the
road--they are coming!  No!  When will they be here?  May we not go a
little way--half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile?  Do say Yes: to
that clump of birches at the turn!'

I refused staunchly.  At length her suspense was ended: the travelling
carriage rolled in sight.  Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her arms
as soon as she caught her father's face looking from the window.  He
descended, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable interval
elapsed ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves.  While
they exchanged caresses I took a peep in to see after Linton.  He was
asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been
winter.  A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for
my master's younger brother, so strong was the resemblance: but there was
a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had.  The
latter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised me to close the
door, and leave him undisturbed; for the journey had fatigued him.  Cathy
would fain have taken one glance, but her father told her to come, and
they walked together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare the
servants.

'Now, darling,' said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted
at the bottom of the front steps: 'your cousin is not so strong or so
merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time
since; therefore, don't expect him to play and run about with you
directly.  And don't harass him much by talking: let him be quiet this
evening, at least, will you?'

'Yes, yes, papa,' answered Catherine: 'but I do want to see him; and he
hasn't once looked out.'

The carriage stopped; and the sleeper being roused, was lifted to the
ground by his uncle.

'This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,' he said, putting their little hands
together.  'She's fond of you already; and mind you don't grieve her by
crying to-night.  Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is at an end,
and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please.'

'Let me go to bed, then,' answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine's
salute; and he put his fingers to remove incipient tears.

'Come, come, there's a good child,' I whispered, leading him in.  'You'll
make her weep too--see how sorry she is for you!'

I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad
a countenance as himself, and returned to her father.  All three entered,
and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready.  I proceeded to
remove Linton's cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table;
but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh.  My master
inquired what was the matter.

'I can't sit on a chair,' sobbed the boy.

'Go to the sofa, then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea,' answered his
uncle patiently.

He had been greatly tried, during the journey, I felt convinced, by his
fretful ailing charge.  Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down.
Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to his side.  At first she sat
silent; but that could not last: she had resolved to make a pet of her
little cousin, as she would have him to be; and she commenced stroking
his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in her saucer,
like a baby.  This pleased him, for he was not much better: he dried his
eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.

'Oh, he'll do very well,' said the master to me, after watching them a
minute.  'Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen.  The company of a child
of his own age will instil new spirit into him soon, and by wishing for
strength he'll gain it.'

'Ay, if we can keep him!' I mused to myself; and sore misgivings came
over me that there was slight hope of that.  And then, I thought, how
ever will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights?  Between his father
and Hareton, what playmates and instructors they'll be.  Our doubts were
presently decided--even earlier than I expected.  I had just taken the
children up-stairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linton asleep--he
would not suffer me to leave him till that was the case--I had come down,
and was standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle for
Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen and informed me that
Mr. Heathcliff's servant Joseph was at the door, and wished to speak with
the master.

'I shall ask him what he wants first,' I said, in considerable
trepidation.  'A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the
instant they have returned from a long journey.  I don't think the master
can see him.'

Joseph had advanced through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and now
presented himself in the hall.  He was donned in his Sunday garments,
with his most sanctimonious and sourest face, and, holding his hat in one
hand, and his stick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on the
mat.

'Good-evening, Joseph,' I said, coldly.  'What business brings you here
to-night?'

'It's Maister Linton I mun spake to,' he answered, waving me disdainfully
aside.

'Mr. Linton is going to bed; unless you have something particular to say,
I'm sure he won't hear it now,' I continued.  'You had better sit down in
there, and entrust your message to me.'

'Which is his rahm?' pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closed
doors.

I perceived he was bent on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly I
went up to the library, and announced the unseasonable visitor, advising
that he should be dismissed till next day.  Mr. Linton had no time to
empower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my heels, and, pushing
into the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the table, with
his two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began in an elevated
tone, as if anticipating opposition--

'Hathecliff has sent me for his lad, and I munn't goa back 'bout him.'

Edgar Linton was silent a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrow
overcast his features: he would have pitied the child on his own account;
but, recalling Isabella's hopes and fears, and anxious wishes for her
son, and her commendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly at the
prospect of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might be
avoided.  No plan offered itself: the very exhibition of any desire to
keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory: there was
nothing left but to resign him.  However, he was not going to rouse him
from his sleep.

'Tell Mr. Heathcliff,' he answered calmly, 'that his son shall come to
Wuthering Heights to-morrow.  He is in bed, and too tired to go the
distance now.  You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desired
him to remain under my guardianship; and, at present, his health is very
precarious.'

'Noa!' said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and
assuming an authoritative air.  'Noa! that means naught.  Hathecliff maks
noa 'count o' t' mother, nor ye norther; but he'll heu' his lad; und I
mun tak' him--soa now ye knaw!'

'You shall not to-night!' answered Linton decisively.  'Walk down stairs
at once, and repeat to your master what I have said.  Ellen, show him
down.  Go--'

And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room
of him and closed the door.

'Varrah weell!' shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off.  'To-morn, he's
come hisseln, and thrust _him_ out, if ye darr!'

To obviate the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton
commissioned me to take the boy home early, on Catherine's pony; and,
said he--'As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good or
bad, you must say nothing of where he is gone to my daughter: she cannot
associate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain in
ignorance of his proximity; lest she should be restless, and anxious to
visit the Heights.  Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and
he has been obliged to leave us.'

Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and
astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling;
but I softened off the matter by stating that he was going to spend some
time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he
did not like to defer the pleasure till he should recover from his late
journey.

'My father!' he cried, in strange perplexity.  'Mamma never told me I had
a father.  Where does he live?  I'd rather stay with uncle.'

'He lives a little distance from the Grange,' I replied; 'just beyond
those hills: not so far, but you may walk over here when you get hearty.
And you should be glad to go home, and to see him.  You must try to love
him, as you did your mother, and then he will love you.'

'But why have I not heard of him before?' asked Linton.  'Why didn't
mamma and he live together, as other people do?'

'He had business to keep him in the north,' I answered, 'and your
mother's health required her to reside in the south.'

'And why didn't mamma speak to me about him?' persevered the child.  'She
often talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago.  How am I to
love papa?  I don't know him.'

'Oh, all children love their parents,' I said.  'Your mother, perhaps,
thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you.
Let us make haste.  An early ride on such a beautiful morning is much
preferable to an hour's more sleep.'

'Is _she_ to go with us,' he demanded, 'the little girl I saw yesterday?'

'Not now,' replied I.

'Is uncle?' he continued.

'No, I shall be your companion there,' I said.

Linton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown study.

'I won't go without uncle,' he cried at length: 'I can't tell where you
mean to take me.'

I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to
meet his father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards
dressing, and I had to call for my master's assistance in coaxing him out
of bed.  The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive
assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr. Edgar and Cathy
would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I
invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way.  The pure
heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny,
relieved his despondency after a while.  He began to put questions
concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest and
liveliness.

'Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange?' he
inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light
mist mounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.

'It is not so buried in trees,' I replied, 'and it is not quite so large,
but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is
healthier for you--fresher and drier.  You will, perhaps, think the
building old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house: the
next best in the neighbourhood.  And you will have such nice rambles on
the moors.  Hareton Earnshaw--that is, Miss Cathy's other cousin, and so
yours in a manner--will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can
bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your study; and,
now and then, your uncle may join you in a walk: he does, frequently,
walk out on the hills.'

'And what is my father like?' he asked.  'Is he as young and handsome as
uncle?'

'He's as young,' said I; 'but he has black hair and eyes, and looks
sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether.  He'll not seem to you
so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way: still,
mind you, be frank and cordial with him; and naturally he'll be fonder of
you than any uncle, for you are his own.'

'Black hair and eyes!' mused Linton.  'I can't fancy him.  Then I am not
like him, am I?'

'Not much,' I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret
the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large
languid eyes--his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness
kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.

'How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!' he murmured.
'Has he ever seen me?  If he has, I must have been a baby.  I remember
not a single thing about him!'

'Why, Master Linton,' said I, 'three hundred miles is a great distance;
and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up person compared
with what they do to you.  It is probable Mr. Heathcliff proposed going
from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity; and now
it is too late.  Don't trouble him with questions on the subject: it will
disturb him, for no good.'

The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of
the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden-gate.  I watched to
catch his impressions in his countenance.  He surveyed the carved front
and low-browed lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked
firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head: his private
feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of his new abode.  But he
had sense to postpone complaining: there might be compensation within.
Before he dismounted, I went and opened the door.  It was half-past six;
the family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing and
wiping down the table.  Joseph stood by his master's chair telling some
tale concerning a lame horse; and Hareton was preparing for the hayfield.

'Hallo, Nelly!' said Mr. Heathcliff, when he saw me.  'I feared I should
have to come down and fetch my property myself.  You've brought it, have
you?  Let us see what we can make of it.'

He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed in gaping
curiosity.  Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the three.

'Sure-ly,' said Joseph after a grave inspection, 'he's swopped wi' ye,
Maister, an' yon's his lass!'

Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of confusion, uttered a
scornful laugh.

'God! what a beauty! what a lovely, charming thing!' he exclaimed.
'Hav'n't they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly?  Oh, damn my
soul! but that's worse than I expected--and the devil knows I was not
sanguine!'

I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down, and enter.  He did not
thoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father's speech, or whether it
were intended for him: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim,
sneering stranger was his father.  But he clung to me with growing
trepidation; and on Mr. Heathcliff's taking a seat and bidding him 'come
hither' he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.

'Tut, tut!' said Heathcliff, stretching out a hand and dragging him
roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the chin.
'None of that nonsense!  We're not going to hurt thee, Linton--isn't that
thy name?  Thou art thy mother's child, entirely!  Where is my share in
thee, puling chicken?'

He took off the boy's cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls, felt
his slender arms and his small fingers; during which examination Linton
ceased crying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector.

'Do you know me?' asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that the
limbs were all equally frail and feeble.

'No,' said Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear.

'You've heard of me, I daresay?'

'No,' he replied again.

'No!  What a shame of your mother, never to waken your filial regard for
me!  You are my son, then, I'll tell you; and your mother was a wicked
slut to leave you in ignorance of the sort of father you possessed.  Now,
don't wince, and colour up!  Though it is something to see you have not
white blood.  Be a good lad; and I'll do for you.  Nelly, if you be tired
you may sit down; if not, get home again.  I guess you'll report what you
hear and see to the cipher at the Grange; and this thing won't be settled
while you linger about it.'

'Well,' replied I, 'I hope you'll be kind to the boy, Mr. Heathcliff, or
you'll not keep him long; and he's all you have akin in the wide world,
that you will ever know--remember.'

'I'll be very kind to him, you needn't fear,' he said, laughing.  'Only
nobody else must be kind to him: I'm jealous of monopolising his
affection.  And, to begin my kindness, Joseph, bring the lad some
breakfast.  Hareton, you infernal calf, begone to your work.  Yes, Nell,'
he added, when they had departed, 'my son is prospective owner of your
place, and I should not wish him to die till I was certain of being his
successor.  Besides, he's _mine_, and I want the triumph of seeing _my_
descendant fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children
to till their fathers' lands for wages.  That is the sole consideration
which can make me endure the whelp: I despise him for himself, and hate
him for the memories he revives!  But that consideration is sufficient:
he's as safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master
tends his own.  I have a room up-stairs, furnished for him in handsome
style; I've engaged a tutor, also, to come three times a week, from
twenty miles' distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn.  I've
ordered Hareton to obey him: and in fact I've arranged everything with a
view to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above his
associates.  I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the
trouble: if I wished any blessing in the world, it was to find him a
worthy object of pride; and I'm bitterly disappointed with the
whey-faced, whining wretch!'

While he was speaking, Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk-porridge,
and placed it before Linton: who stirred round the homely mess with a
look of aversion, and affirmed he could not eat it. I saw the old
man-servant shared largely in his master's scorn of the child; though he
was compelled to retain the sentiment in his heart, because Heathcliff
plainly meant his underlings to hold him in honour.

'Cannot ate it?' repeated he, peering in Linton's face, and subduing his
voice to a whisper, for fear of being overheard.  'But Maister Hareton
nivir ate naught else, when he wer a little 'un; and what wer gooid
enough for him's gooid enough for ye, I's rayther think!'

'I _sha'n't_ eat it!' answered Linton, snappishly.  'Take it away.'

Joseph snatched up the food indignantly, and brought it to us.

'Is there aught ails th' victuals?' he asked, thrusting the tray under
Heathcliff's nose.

'What should ail them?' he said.

'Wah!' answered Joseph, 'yon dainty chap says he cannut ate 'em.  But I
guess it's raight!  His mother wer just soa--we wer a'most too mucky to
sow t' corn for makking her breead.'

'Don't mention his mother to me,' said the master, angrily.  'Get him
something that he can eat, that's all.  What is his usual food, Nelly?'

I suggested boiled milk or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions
to prepare some.  Come, I reflected, his father's selfishness may
contribute to his comfort.  He perceives his delicate constitution, and
the necessity of treating him tolerably.  I'll console Mr. Edgar by
acquainting him with the turn Heathcliff's humour has taken.  Having no
excuse for lingering longer, I slipped out, while Linton was engaged in
timidly rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog.  But he was too
much on the alert to be cheated: as I closed the door, I heard a cry, and
a frantic repetition of the words--

'Don't leave me!  I'll not stay here!  I'll not stay here!'

Then the latch was raised and fell: they did not suffer him to come
forth.  I mounted Minny, and urged her to a trot; and so my brief
guardianship ended.

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

completion: During the next 13 years, Catherine grows up at the Grange under the guidance of a very protective Edgar. She is not allowed to leave the grounds on her own and she is totally unaware of Wuthering Heights. However, she is an inquisitive girl and has learned about the fairy cave at Penistone Crags . She asks her father to take here there, but he is not willing to go as the road passes Wuthering Heights. Around this time, Isabella writes to Edgar informing him of her impending death. She requests that he comes to London to bring Linton back to the Grange in order to keep him out of the clutches of Heathcliff. Edgar leaves to go to London, leaving Nelly in charge of Catherine. One day Catherine goes missing and it transpires that her pony leaped the hedge and made for the Penistone Crags. Catherine ended up at Wuthering Heights where she spent the day with Hareton. They had a great time together. Nelly insists on getting Catherine back to the Grange. A servant at Wuthering Heights tells Catherine that Hareton is her cousin. Catherine in turn tells Hareton that his father is off to London to fetch her cousin back to the Grange. This further upsets Nelly and she tells Catherine not to mention their visit to Wuthering Heights to her father. Edgar returns from London with the pale, delicate Linton who greatly resembles Edgar. Catherine treats him like a pet because he is too weak to play with her. Edgar hopes that Heathcliff will allow Linton to stay at the Grange, but that night Joseph arrives, demanding to take Linton to Wuthering Heights. Edgar says that he will deliver him the next morning. Nelly takes Linton to Wuthering Heights and she tries to comfort Linton by making up falsehoods concerning his father. When he arrives, Heathcliff refers to his son as property and calls Isabella a wicked slut. Linton is distraught at being left at Wuthering Heights, pleading with Nelly not to leave him.