Chapter: 1801.--I have just returned from a visit to my landlord--the solitary
neighbour that I shall be troubled with.  This is certainly a beautiful
country!  In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a
situation so completely removed from the stir of society.  A perfect
misanthropist's heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair
to divide the desolation between us.  A capital fellow!  He little
imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes
withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his
fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in
his waistcoat, as I announced my name.

'Mr. Heathcliff?' I said.

A nod was the answer.

'Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir.  I do myself the honour of calling
as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not
inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of
Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts--'

'Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing.  'I should
not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it--walk in!'

The 'walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment,
'Go to the Deuce:' even the gate over which he leant manifested no
sympathising movement to the words; and I think that circumstance
determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who
seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out
his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway,
calling, as we entered the court,--'Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse;
and bring up some wine.'

'Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,' was the
reflection suggested by this compound order.  'No wonder the grass grows
up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.'

Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale
and sinewy.  'The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of
peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime,
in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of
divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no
reference to my unexpected advent.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling.  'Wuthering'
being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric
tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather.  Pure, bracing
ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess
the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant
of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt
thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun.
Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow
windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large
jutting stones.

Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque
carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door;
above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless
little boys, I detected the date '1500,' and the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.'
I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the
place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to
demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to
aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.

One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any
introductory lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house'
pre-eminently.  It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe
at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into
another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a
clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of
roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter
of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls.  One end, indeed,
reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter
dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after
row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof.  The latter had never been
under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except
where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef,
mutton, and ham, concealed it.  Above the chimney were sundry villainous
old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three
gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge.  The floor was of
smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures,
painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade.  In an
arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer,
surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other
recesses.

The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as
belonging to a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance, and
stalwart limbs set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters.  Such
an individual seated in his arm-chair, his mug of ale frothing on the
round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five or six miles
among these hills, if you go at the right time after dinner.  But Mr.
Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode and style of living.  He
is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that
is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly,
perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an
erect and handsome figure; and rather morose.  Possibly, some people
might suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride; I have a sympathetic
chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know, by
instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of
feeling--to manifestations of mutual kindliness.  He'll love and hate
equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved
or hated again.  No, I'm running on too fast: I bestow my own attributes
over-liberally on him.  Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar
reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a would-be
acquaintance, to those which actuate me.  Let me hope my constitution is
almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say I should never have a
comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy
of one.

While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was thrown
into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my
eyes, as long as she took no notice of me.  I 'never told my love'
vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have
guessed I was over head and ears: she understood me at last, and looked a
return--the sweetest of all imaginable looks.  And what did I do?  I
confess it with shame--shrunk icily into myself, like a snail; at every
glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor innocent was led
to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at her supposed
mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp.  By this curious turn of
disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how
undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which
my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting
to caress the canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneaking
wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth
watering for a snatch.  My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl.

'You'd better let the dog alone,' growled Mr. Heathcliff in unison,
checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot.  'She's not
accustomed to be spoiled--not kept for a pet.'  Then, striding to a side
door, he shouted again, 'Joseph!'

Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave no
intimation of ascending; so his master dived down to him, leaving me
_vis-a-vis_ the ruffianly bitch and a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs,
who shared with her a jealous guardianship over all my movements. Not
anxious to come in contact with their fangs, I sat still; but, imagining
they would scarcely understand tacit insults, I unfortunately indulged
in winking and making faces at the trio, and some turn of my physiognomy
so irritated madam, that she suddenly broke into a fury and leapt on my
knees. I flung her back, and hastened to interpose the table between us.
This proceeding aroused the whole hive: half-a-dozen four-footed fiends,
of various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens to the common centre.
I felt my heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and parrying
off the larger combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, I
was constrained to demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household
in re-establishing peace.

Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious
phlegm: I don't think they moved one second faster than usual, though
the hearth was an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping. Happily, an
inhabitant of the kitchen made more despatch: a lusty dame, with
tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the
midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her
tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically, and she only
remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master entered
on the scene.

'What the devil is the matter?' he asked, eyeing me in a manner that I
could ill endure, after this inhospitable treatment.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered.  'The herd of possessed swine could
have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir.  You
might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!'

'They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting
the bottle before me, and restoring the displaced table.  'The dogs do
right to be vigilant.  Take a glass of wine?'

'No, thank you.'

'Not bitten, are you?'

'If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.'  Heathcliff's
countenance relaxed into a grin.

'Come, come,' he said, 'you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood.  Here, take a
little wine.  Guests are so exceedingly rare in this house that I and my
dogs, I am willing to own, hardly know how to receive them.  Your health,
sir?'

I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive that it would be
foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs; besides, I
felt loth to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense; since his
humour took that turn.  He--probably swayed by prudential consideration
of the folly of offending a good tenant--relaxed a little in the laconic
style of chipping off his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced
what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me,--a discourse on
the advantages and disadvantages of my present place of retirement.  I
found him very intelligent on the topics we touched; and before I went
home, I was encouraged so far as to volunteer another visit to-morrow.  He
evidently wished no repetition of my intrusion.  I shall go,
notwithstanding.  It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared
with him.





Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold.  I had half a mind to spend it
by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering
Heights.  On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B.--I dine between twelve
and one o'clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture
along with the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that
I might be served at five)--on mounting the stairs with this lazy
intention, and stepping into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees
surrounded by brushes and coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust as
she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders.  This spectacle drove
me back immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four-miles' walk,
arrived at Heathcliff's garden-gate just in time to escape the first
feathery flakes of a snow-shower.

On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air
made me shiver through every limb.  Being unable to remove the chain, I
jumped over, and, running up the flagged causeway bordered with
straggling gooseberry-bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my
knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.

'Wretched inmates!' I ejaculated, mentally, 'you deserve perpetual
isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least, I
would not keep my doors barred in the day-time. I don't care--I will get
in!' So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it vehemently.
Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round window of the barn.

'What are ye for?' he shouted.  'T' maister's down i' t' fowld.  Go round
by th' end o' t' laith, if ye went to spake to him.'

'Is there nobody inside to open the door?' I hallooed, responsively.

'There's nobbut t' missis; and shoo'll not oppen 't an ye mak' yer
flaysome dins till neeght.'

'Why?  Cannot you tell her whom I am, eh, Joseph?'

'Nor-ne me!  I'll hae no hend wi't,' muttered the head, vanishing.

The snow began to drive thickly.  I seized the handle to essay another
trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork,
appeared in the yard behind.  He hailed me to follow him, and, after
marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed,
pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful
apartment where I was formerly received.  It glowed delightfully in the
radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near
the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe
the 'missis,' an individual whose existence I had never previously
suspected.  I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a seat.
She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained motionless and
mute.

'Rough weather!' I remarked.  'I'm afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff, the door must
bear the consequence of your servants' leisure attendance: I had hard
work to make them hear me.'

She never opened her mouth.  I stared--she stared also: at any rate, she
kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly
embarrassing and disagreeable.

'Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly.  'He'll be in soon.'

I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this
second interview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning
my acquaintance.

'A beautiful animal!' I commenced again.  'Do you intend parting with the
little ones, madam?'

'They are not mine,' said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than
Heathcliff himself could have replied.

'Ah, your favourites are among these?' I continued, turning to an obscure
cushion full of something like cats.

'A strange choice of favourites!' she observed scornfully.

Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits.  I hemmed once more, and drew
closer to the hearth, repeating my comment on the wildness of the
evening.

'You should not have come out,' she said, rising and reaching from the
chimney-piece two of the painted canisters.

Her position before was sheltered from the light; now, I had a distinct
view of her whole figure and countenance.  She was slender, and
apparently scarcely past girlhood: an admirable form, and the most
exquisite little face that I have ever had the pleasure of beholding;
small features, very fair; flaxen ringlets, or rather golden, hanging
loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they been agreeable in
expression, that would have been irresistible: fortunately for my
susceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered between scorn
and a kind of desperation, singularly unnatural to be detected there.  The
canisters were almost out of her reach; I made a motion to aid her; she
turned upon me as a miser might turn if any one attempted to assist him
in counting his gold.

'I don't want your help,' she snapped; 'I can get them for myself.'

'I beg your pardon!' I hastened to reply.

'Were you asked to tea?' she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black
frock, and standing with a spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot.

'I shall be glad to have a cup,' I answered.

'Were you asked?' she repeated.

'No,' I said, half smiling.  'You are the proper person to ask me.'

She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a pet;
her forehead corrugated, and her red under-lip pushed out, like a child's
ready to cry.

Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby
upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me
from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some
mortal feud unavenged between us.  I began to doubt whether he were a
servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of
the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown
curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached bearishly over
his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those of a common labourer:
still his bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed none of a
domestic's assiduity in attending on the lady of the house.  In the
absence of clear proofs of his condition, I deemed it best to abstain
from noticing his curious conduct; and, five minutes afterwards, the
entrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure, from my
uncomfortable state.

'You see, sir, I am come, according to promise!' I exclaimed, assuming
the cheerful; 'and I fear I shall be weather-bound for half an hour, if
you can afford me shelter during that space.'

'Half an hour?' he said, shaking the white flakes from his clothes; 'I
wonder you should select the thick of a snow-storm to ramble about in.  Do
you know that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes?  People
familiar with these moors often miss their road on such evenings; and I
can tell you there is no chance of a change at present.'

'Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might stay at the
Grange till morning--could you spare me one?'

'No, I could not.'

'Oh, indeed!  Well, then, I must trust to my own sagacity.'

'Umph!'

'Are you going to mak' the tea?' demanded he of the shabby coat, shifting
his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.

'Is _he_ to have any?' she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.

'Get it ready, will you?' was the answer, uttered so savagely that I
started.  The tone in which the words were said revealed a genuine bad
nature.  I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow.
When the preparations were finished, he invited me with--'Now, sir, bring
forward your chair.'  And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round
the table: an austere silence prevailing while we discussed our meal.

I thought, if I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to
dispel it.  They could not every day sit so grim and taciturn; and it was
impossible, however ill-tempered they might be, that the universal scowl
they wore was their every-day countenance.

'It is strange,' I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea
and receiving another--'it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and
ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of
such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet,
I'll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with your
amiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart--'

'My amiable lady!' he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his
face.  'Where is she--my amiable lady?'

'Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.'

'Well, yes--oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of
ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, even
when her body is gone.  Is that it?'

Perceiving myself in a blunder, I attempted to correct it.  I might have
seen there was too great a disparity between the ages of the parties to
make it likely that they were man and wife.  One was about forty: a
period of mental vigour at which men seldom cherish the delusion of being
married for love by girls: that dream is reserved for the solace of our
declining years.  The other did not look seventeen.

Then it flashed upon me--'The clown at my elbow, who is drinking his tea
out of a basin and eating his bread with unwashed hands, may be her
husband: Heathcliff junior, of course.  Here is the consequence of being
buried alive: she has thrown herself away upon that boor from sheer
ignorance that better individuals existed!  A sad pity--I must beware how
I cause her to regret her choice.'  The last reflection may seem
conceited; it was not.  My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive;
I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.

'Mrs. Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law,' said Heathcliff, corroborating
my surmise.  He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction: a
look of hatred; unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that
will not, like those of other people, interpret the language of his soul.

'Ah, certainly--I see now: you are the favoured possessor of the
beneficent fairy,' I remarked, turning to my neighbour.

This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his
fist, with every appearance of a meditated assault.  But he seemed to
recollect himself presently, and smothered the storm in a brutal curse,
muttered on my behalf: which, however, I took care not to notice.

'Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,' observed my host; 'we neither of us
have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead.  I said
she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married my son.'

'And this young man is--'

'Not my son, assuredly.'

Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to
attribute the paternity of that bear to him.

'My name is Hareton Earnshaw,' growled the other; 'and I'd counsel you to
respect it!'

'I've shown no disrespect,' was my reply, laughing internally at the
dignity with which he announced himself.

He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear
I might be tempted either to box his ears or render my hilarity audible.
I began to feel unmistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle.
The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralised, the
glowing physical comforts round me; and I resolved to be cautious how I
ventured under those rafters a third time.

The business of eating being concluded, and no one uttering a word of
sociable conversation, I approached a window to examine the weather.  A
sorrowful sight I saw: dark night coming down prematurely, and sky and
hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.

'I don't think it possible for me to get home now without a guide,' I
could not help exclaiming.  'The roads will be buried already; and, if
they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.'

'Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch.  They'll be
covered if left in the fold all night: and put a plank before them,' said
Heathcliff.

'How must I do?' I continued, with rising irritation.

There was no reply to my question; and on looking round I saw only Joseph
bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs, and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning
over the fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches which
had fallen from the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its
place.  The former, when he had deposited his burden, took a critical
survey of the room, and in cracked tones grated out--'Aw wonder how yah
can faishion to stand thear i' idleness un war, when all on 'ems goan
out!  Bud yah're a nowt, and it's no use talking--yah'll niver mend o'yer
ill ways, but goa raight to t' divil, like yer mother afore ye!'

I imagined, for a moment, that this piece of eloquence was addressed to
me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal with an
intention of kicking him out of the door.  Mrs. Heathcliff, however,
checked me by her answer.

'You scandalous old hypocrite!' she replied.  'Are you not afraid of
being carried away bodily, whenever you mention the devil's name?  I warn
you to refrain from provoking me, or I'll ask your abduction as a special
favour!  Stop! look here, Joseph,' she continued, taking a long, dark
book from a shelf; 'I'll show you how far I've progressed in the Black
Art: I shall soon be competent to make a clear house of it.  The red cow
didn't die by chance; and your rheumatism can hardly be reckoned among
providential visitations!'

'Oh, wicked, wicked!' gasped the elder; 'may the Lord deliver us from
evil!'

'No, reprobate! you are a castaway--be off, or I'll hurt you seriously!
I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay! and the first who passes the
limits I fix shall--I'll not say what he shall be done to--but, you'll
see!  Go, I'm looking at you!'

The little witch put a mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and
Joseph, trembling with sincere horror, hurried out, praying, and
ejaculating 'wicked' as he went.  I thought her conduct must be prompted
by a species of dreary fun; and, now that we were alone, I endeavoured to
interest her in my distress.

'Mrs. Heathcliff,' I said earnestly, 'you must excuse me for troubling
you.  I presume, because, with that face, I'm sure you cannot help being
good-hearted.  Do point out some landmarks by which I may know my way
home: I have no more idea how to get there than you would have how to get
to London!'

'Take the road you came,' she answered, ensconcing herself in a chair,
with a candle, and the long book open before her.  'It is brief advice,
but as sound as I can give.'

'Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead in a bog or a pit full of
snow, your conscience won't whisper that it is partly your fault?'

'How so?  I cannot escort you.  They wouldn't let me go to the end of the
garden wall.'

'_You_!  I should be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold, for my
convenience, on such a night,' I cried.  'I want you to tell me my way,
not to _show_ it: or else to persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give me a guide.'

'Who?  There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph and I.  Which would you
have?'

'Are there no boys at the farm?'

'No; those are all.'

'Then, it follows that I am compelled to stay.'

'That you may settle with your host.  I have nothing to do with it.'

'I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more rash journeys on these
hills,' cried Heathcliff's stern voice from the kitchen entrance.  'As to
staying here, I don't keep accommodations for visitors: you must share a
bed with Hareton or Joseph, if you do.'

'I can sleep on a chair in this room,' I replied.

'No, no!  A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: it will not suit
me to permit any one the range of the place while I am off guard!' said
the unmannerly wretch.

With this insult my patience was at an end.  I uttered an expression of
disgust, and pushed past him into the yard, running against Earnshaw in
my haste.  It was so dark that I could not see the means of exit; and, as
I wandered round, I heard another specimen of their civil behaviour
amongst each other.  At first the young man appeared about to befriend
me.

'I'll go with him as far as the park,' he said.

'You'll go with him to hell!' exclaimed his master, or whatever relation
he bore.  'And who is to look after the horses, eh?'

'A man's life is of more consequence than one evening's neglect of the
horses: somebody must go,' murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I
expected.

'Not at your command!' retorted Hareton.  'If you set store on him, you'd
better be quiet.'

'Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr. Heathcliff will
never get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin,' she answered,
sharply.

'Hearken, hearken, shoo's cursing on 'em!' muttered Joseph, towards whom
I had been steering.

He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which
I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I would send it back on
the morrow, rushed to the nearest postern.

'Maister, maister, he's staling t' lanthern!' shouted the ancient,
pursuing my retreat.  'Hey, Gnasher!  Hey, dog!  Hey Wolf, holld him,
holld him!'

On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at my throat, bearing
me down, and extinguishing the light; while a mingled guffaw from
Heathcliff and Hareton put the copestone on my rage and humiliation.
Fortunately, the beasts seemed more bent on stretching their paws, and
yawning, and flourishing their tails, than devouring me alive; but they
would suffer no resurrection, and I was forced to lie till their
malignant masters pleased to deliver me: then, hatless and trembling with
wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out--on their peril to keep me
one minute longer--with several incoherent threats of retaliation that,
in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.

The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the nose,
and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded.  I don't know what
would have concluded the scene, had there not been one person at hand
rather more rational than myself, and more benevolent than my
entertainer.  This was Zillah, the stout housewife; who at length issued
forth to inquire into the nature of the uproar.  She thought that some of
them had been laying violent hands on me; and, not daring to attack her
master, she turned her vocal artillery against the younger scoundrel.

'Well, Mr. Earnshaw,' she cried, 'I wonder what you'll have agait next?
Are we going to murder folk on our very door-stones?  I see this house
will never do for me--look at t' poor lad, he's fair choking!  Wisht,
wisht; you mun'n't go on so.  Come in, and I'll cure that: there now,
hold ye still.'

With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of icy water down my neck,
and pulled me into the kitchen.  Mr. Heathcliff followed, his accidental
merriment expiring quickly in his habitual moroseness.

I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint; and thus compelled perforce
to accept lodgings under his roof.  He told Zillah to give me a glass of
brandy, and then passed on to the inner room; while she condoled with me
on my sorry predicament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby I was
somewhat revived, ushered me to bed.

 A Mr. Lockwood has traveled from London to take up the tenancy of Thrushcross Grange. He visits his landlord, a Mr. Heathcliff who resides at Wuthering Heights, the title of the novel. Above the door of Wuthering Heights are the date 1500 and the name Hareton Earnshaw. Lockwood does not receive a warm welcome and the house servant, Joseph, is brusque. There is a pack of dogs running around the farm buildings. Heathcliff seems not to trust Lockwood and leaves him alone with the fearsome dogs. Despite this inhospitable treatment Lockwood decides to return to Wuthering Heights, and on this occasion, he knocks at the door, but there is no response. A storm starts to develop and eventually a young man appears and requests Lockwood to follow him. Inside he sees a woman who he assumes to be Heathcliff's wife. He is advised that Heathcliff is out on the moors, which seems strange to Lockwood as a full-blown snowstorm is developing. Lockwood asks for help in finding his way back to the Grange, but this is not forthcoming. Taking a lantern, Joseph, the servant, thinks he is stealing the lamp and orders the dogs to attack him. He receives a bad nosebleed and is forced to spend the night at Wuthering Heights.

