Chapter: On the morning of a fine June day my first bonny little nursling, and the
last of the ancient Earnshaw stock, was born.  We were busy with the hay
in a far-away field, when the girl that usually brought our breakfasts
came running an hour too soon across the meadow and up the lane, calling
me as she ran.

'Oh, such a grand bairn!' she panted out.  'The finest lad that ever
breathed!  But the doctor says missis must go: he says she's been in a
consumption these many months.  I heard him tell Mr. Hindley: and now she
has nothing to keep her, and she'll be dead before winter.  You must come
home directly.  You're to nurse it, Nelly: to feed it with sugar and
milk, and take care of it day and night.  I wish I were you, because it
will be all yours when there is no missis!'

'But is she very ill?' I asked, flinging down my rake and tying my
bonnet.

'I guess she is; yet she looks bravely,' replied the girl, 'and she talks
as if she thought of living to see it grow a man.  She's out of her head
for joy, it's such a beauty!  If I were her I'm certain I should not die:
I should get better at the bare sight of it, in spite of Kenneth.  I was
fairly mad at him.  Dame Archer brought the cherub down to master, in the
house, and his face just began to light up, when the old croaker steps
forward, and says he--"Earnshaw, it's a blessing your wife has been
spared to leave you this son.  When she came, I felt convinced we
shouldn't keep her long; and now, I must tell you, the winter will
probably finish her.  Don't take on, and fret about it too much: it can't
be helped.  And besides, you should have known better than to choose such
a rush of a lass!"'

'And what did the master answer?' I inquired.

'I think he swore: but I didn't mind him, I was straining to see the
bairn,' and she began again to describe it rapturously.  I, as zealous as
herself, hurried eagerly home to admire, on my part; though I was very
sad for Hindley's sake.  He had room in his heart only for two idols--his
wife and himself: he doted on both, and adored one, and I couldn't
conceive how he would bear the loss.

When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door; and,
as I passed in, I asked, 'how was the baby?'

'Nearly ready to run about, Nell!' he replied, putting on a cheerful
smile.

'And the mistress?' I ventured to inquire; 'the doctor says she's--'

'Damn the doctor!' he interrupted, reddening.  'Frances is quite right:
she'll be perfectly well by this time next week.  Are you going
up-stairs? will you tell her that I'll come, if she'll promise not to
talk.  I left her because she would not hold her tongue; and she
must--tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be quiet.'

I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw; she seemed in flighty spirits,
and replied merrily, 'I hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there he has gone
out twice, crying.  Well, say I promise I won't speak: but that does not
bind me not to laugh at him!'

Poor soul!  Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failed
her; and her husband persisted doggedly, nay, furiously, in affirming her
health improved every day.  When Kenneth warned him that his medicines
were useless at that stage of the malady, and he needn't put him to
further expense by attending her, he retorted, 'I know you need not--she's
well--she does not want any more attendance from you!  She never was in a
consumption.  It was a fever; and it is gone: her pulse is as slow as
mine now, and her cheek as cool.'

He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to believe him; but one
night, while leaning on his shoulder, in the act of saying she thought
she should be able to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her--a
very slight one--he raised her in his arms; she put her two hands about
his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.

As the girl had anticipated, the child Hareton fell wholly into my hands.
Mr. Earnshaw, provided he saw him healthy and never heard him cry, was
contented, as far as regarded him.  For himself, he grew desperate: his
sorrow was of that kind that will not lament.  He neither wept nor
prayed; he cursed and defied: execrated God and man, and gave himself up
to reckless dissipation.  The servants could not bear his tyrannical and
evil conduct long: Joseph and I were the only two that would stay.  I had
not the heart to leave my charge; and besides, you know, I had been his
foster-sister, and excused his behaviour more readily than a stranger
would.  Joseph remained to hector over tenants and labourers; and because
it was his vocation to be where he had plenty of wickedness to reprove.

The master's bad ways and bad companions formed a pretty example for
Catherine and Heathcliff.  His treatment of the latter was enough to make
a fiend of a saint.  And, truly, it appeared as if the lad _were_
possessed of something diabolical at that period.  He delighted to
witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption; and became daily more
notable for savage sullenness and ferocity.  I could not half tell what
an infernal house we had.  The curate dropped calling, and nobody decent
came near us, at last; unless Edgar Linton's visits to Miss Cathy might
be an exception.  At fifteen she was the queen of the country-side; she
had no peer; and she did turn out a haughty, headstrong creature!  I own
I did not like her, after infancy was past; and I vexed her frequently by
trying to bring down her arrogance: she never took an aversion to me,
though.  She had a wondrous constancy to old attachments: even Heathcliff
kept his hold on her affections unalterably; and young Linton, with all
his superiority, found it difficult to make an equally deep impression.
He was my late master: that is his portrait over the fireplace.  It used
to hang on one side, and his wife's on the other; but hers has been
removed, or else you might see something of what she was.  Can you make
that out?

Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I discerned a soft-featured face,
exceedingly resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive
and amiable in expression.  It formed a sweet picture.  The long light
hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and serious; the
figure almost too graceful.  I did not marvel how Catherine Earnshaw
could forget her first friend for such an individual.  I marvelled much
how he, with a mind to correspond with his person, could fancy my idea of
Catherine Earnshaw.

'A very agreeable portrait,' I observed to the house-keeper.  'Is it
like?'

'Yes,' she answered; 'but he looked better when he was animated; that is
his everyday countenance: he wanted spirit in general.'

Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since her
five-weeks' residence among them; and as she had no temptation to show
her rough side in their company, and had the sense to be ashamed of
being rude where she experienced such invariable courtesy, she imposed
unwittingly on the old lady and gentleman by her ingenious cordiality;
gained the admiration of Isabella, and the heart and soul of her
brother: acquisitions that flattered her from the first--for she was
full of ambition--and led her to adopt a double character without
exactly intending to deceive any one. In the place where she heard
Heathcliff termed a 'vulgar young ruffian,' and 'worse than a brute,'
she took care not to act like him; but at home she had small inclination
to practise politeness that would only be laughed at, and restrain an
unruly nature when it would bring her neither credit nor praise.

Mr. Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly.  He
had a terror of Earnshaw's reputation, and shrunk from encountering him;
and yet he was always received with our best attempts at civility: the
master himself avoided offending him, knowing why he came; and if he
could not be gracious, kept out of the way.  I rather think his
appearance there was distasteful to Catherine; she was not artful, never
played the coquette, and had evidently an objection to her two friends
meeting at all; for when Heathcliff expressed contempt of Linton in his
presence, she could not half coincide, as she did in his absence; and
when Linton evinced disgust and antipathy to Heathcliff, she dared not
treat his sentiments with indifference, as if depreciation of her
playmate were of scarcely any consequence to her.  I've had many a laugh
at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide
from my mockery.  That sounds ill-natured: but she was so proud it became
really impossible to pity her distresses, till she should be chastened
into more humility.  She did bring herself, finally, to confess, and to
confide in me: there was not a soul else that she might fashion into an
adviser.

Mr. Hindley had gone from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed to
give himself a holiday on the strength of it.  He had reached the age of
sixteen then, I think, and without having bad features, or being
deficient in intellect, he contrived to convey an impression of inward
and outward repulsiveness that his present aspect retains no traces of.
In the first place, he had by that time lost the benefit of his early
education: continual hard work, begun soon and concluded late, had
extinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit of knowledge, and
any love for books or learning.  His childhood's sense of superiority,
instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away.  He
struggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, and
yielded with poignant though silent regret: but he yielded completely;
and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in the way of moving
upward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath his former
level.  Then personal appearance sympathised with mental deterioration:
he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his naturally reserved
disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable
moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the
aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintances.

Catherine and he were constant companions still at his seasons of respite
from labour; but he had ceased to express his fondness for her in words,
and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses, as if
conscious there could be no gratification in lavishing such marks of
affection on him.  On the before-named occasion he came into the house to
announce his intention of doing nothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathy
to arrange her dress: she had not reckoned on his taking it into his head
to be idle; and imagining she would have the whole place to herself, she
managed, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her brother's absence, and
was then preparing to receive him.

'Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?' asked Heathcliff.  'Are you going
anywhere?'

'No, it is raining,' she answered.

'Why have you that silk frock on, then?' he said.  'Nobody coming here, I
hope?'

'Not that I know of,' stammered Miss: 'but you should be in the field
now, Heathcliff.  It is an hour past dinnertime: I thought you were
gone.'

'Hindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,' observed the
boy.  'I'll not work any more to-day: I'll stay with you.'

'Oh, but Joseph will tell,' she suggested; 'you'd better go!'

'Joseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it will
take him till dark, and he'll never know.'

So, saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down.  Catherine reflected an
instant, with knitted brows--she found it needful to smooth the way for
an intrusion.  'Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling this
afternoon,' she said, at the conclusion of a minute's silence.  'As it
rains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they do, you run
the risk of being scolded for no good.'

'Order Ellen to say you are engaged, Cathy,' he persisted; 'don't turn me
out for those pitiful, silly friends of yours!  I'm on the point,
sometimes, of complaining that they--but I'll not--'

'That they what?' cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubled
countenance.  'Oh, Nelly!' she added petulantly, jerking her head away
from my hands, 'you've combed my hair quite out of curl!  That's enough;
let me alone.  What are you on the point of complaining about,
Heathcliff?'

'Nothing--only look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to a framed
sheet hanging near the window, and continued, 'The crosses are for the
evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with
me.  Do you see?  I've marked every day.'

'Yes--very foolish: as if I took notice!' replied Catherine, in a peevish
tone.  'And where is the sense of that?'

'To show that I _do_ take notice,' said Heathcliff.

'And should I always be sitting with you?' she demanded, growing more
irritated.  'What good do I get?  What do you talk about?  You might be
dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you
do, either!'

'You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked
my company, Cathy!' exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.

'It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,' she
muttered.

Her companion rose up, but he hadn't time to express his feelings
further, for a horse's feet were heard on the flags, and having knocked
gently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at the
unexpected summon she had received.  Doubtless Catherine marked the
difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out.
The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coal
country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting were
as opposite as his aspect.  He had a sweet, low manner of speaking, and
pronounced his words as you do: that's less gruff than we talk here, and
softer.

'I'm not come too soon, am I?' he said, casting a look at me: I had begun
to wipe the plate, and tidy some drawers at the far end in the dresser.

'No,' answered Catherine.  'What are you doing there, Nelly?'

'My work, Miss,' I replied.  (Mr. Hindley had given me directions to make
a third party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.)

She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, 'Take yourself and your
dusters off; when company are in the house, servants don't commence
scouring and cleaning in the room where they are!'

'It's a good opportunity, now that master is away,' I answered aloud: 'he
hates me to be fidgeting over these things in his presence.  I'm sure Mr.
Edgar will excuse me.'

'I hate you to be fidgeting in _my_ presence,' exclaimed the young lady
imperiously, not allowing her guest time to speak: she had failed to
recover her equanimity since the little dispute with Heathcliff.

'I'm sorry for it, Miss Catherine,' was my response; and I proceeded
assiduously with my occupation.

She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand,
and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm.  I've
said I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying her vanity now
and then: besides, she hurt me extremely; so I started up from my knees,
and screamed out, 'Oh, Miss, that's a nasty trick!  You have no right to
nip me, and I'm not going to bear it.'

'I didn't touch you, you lying creature!' cried she, her fingers tingling
to repeat the act, and her ears red with rage.  She never had power to
conceal her passion, it always set her whole complexion in a blaze.

'What's that, then?' I retorted, showing a decided purple witness to
refute her.

She stamped her foot, wavered a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled
by the naughty spirit within her, slapped me on the cheek: a stinging
blow that filled both eyes with water.

'Catherine, love!  Catherine!' interposed Linton, greatly shocked at the
double fault of falsehood and violence which his idol had committed.

'Leave the room, Ellen!' she repeated, trembling all over.

Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on
the floor, at seeing my tears commenced crying himself, and sobbed out
complaints against 'wicked aunt Cathy,' which drew her fury on to his
unlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor child
waxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliver
him.  In an instant one was wrung free, and the astonished young man felt
it applied over his own ear in a way that could not be mistaken for jest.
He drew back in consternation.  I lifted Hareton in my arms, and walked
off to the kitchen with him, leaving the door of communication open, for
I was curious to watch how they would settle their disagreement.  The
insulted visitor moved to the spot where he had laid his hat, pale and
with a quivering lip.

'That's right!' I said to myself.  'Take warning and begone!  It's a
kindness to let you have a glimpse of her genuine disposition.'

'Where are you going?' demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.

He swerved aside, and attempted to pass.

'You must not go!' she exclaimed, energetically.

'I must and shall!' he replied in a subdued voice.

'No,' she persisted, grasping the handle; 'not yet, Edgar Linton: sit
down; you shall not leave me in that temper.  I should be miserable all
night, and I won't be miserable for you!'

'Can I stay after you have struck me?' asked Linton.

Catherine was mute.

'You've made me afraid and ashamed of you,' he continued; 'I'll not come
here again!'

Her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.

'And you told a deliberate untruth!' he said.

'I didn't!' she cried, recovering her speech; 'I did nothing
deliberately.  Well, go, if you please--get away!  And now I'll cry--I'll
cry myself sick!'

She dropped down on her knees by a chair, and set to weeping in serious
earnest.  Edgar persevered in his resolution as far as the court; there
he lingered.  I resolved to encourage him.

'Miss is dreadfully wayward, sir,' I called out.  'As bad as any marred
child: you'd better be riding home, or else she will be sick, only to
grieve us.'

The soft thing looked askance through the window: he possessed the power
to depart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse half
killed, or a bird half eaten.  Ah, I thought, there will be no saving
him: he's doomed, and flies to his fate!  And so it was: he turned
abruptly, hastened into the house again, shut the door behind him; and
when I went in a while after to inform them that Earnshaw had come home
rabid drunk, ready to pull the whole place about our ears (his ordinary
frame of mind in that condition), I saw the quarrel had merely effected a
closer intimacy--had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, and
enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confess
themselves lovers.

Intelligence of Mr. Hindley's arrival drove Linton speedily to his horse,
and Catherine to her chamber.  I went to hide little Hareton, and to take
the shot out of the master's fowling-piece, which he was fond of playing
with in his insane excitement, to the hazard of the lives of any who
provoked, or even attracted his notice too much; and I had hit upon the
plan of removing it, that he might do less mischief if he did go the
length of firing the gun.





He entered, vociferating oaths dreadful to hear; and caught me in the act
of stowing his son away in the kitchen cupboard.  Hareton was impressed
with a wholesome terror of encountering either his wild beast's fondness
or his madman's rage; for in one he ran a chance of being squeezed and
kissed to death, and in the other of being flung into the fire, or dashed
against the wall; and the poor thing remained perfectly quiet wherever I
chose to put him.

'There, I've found it out at last!' cried Hindley, pulling me back by the
skin of my neck, like a dog.  'By heaven and hell, you've sworn between
you to murder that child!  I know how it is, now, that he is always out
of my way.  But, with the help of Satan, I shall make you swallow the
carving-knife, Nelly!  You needn't laugh; for I've just crammed Kenneth,
head-downmost, in the Black-horse marsh; and two is the same as one--and
I want to kill some of you: I shall have no rest till I do!'

'But I don't like the carving-knife, Mr. Hindley,' I answered; 'it has
been cutting red herrings.  I'd rather be shot, if you please.'

'You'd rather be damned!' he said; 'and so you shall.  No law in England
can hinder a man from keeping his house decent, and mine's abominable!
Open your mouth.'  He held the knife in his hand, and pushed its point
between my teeth: but, for my part, I was never much afraid of his
vagaries.  I spat out, and affirmed it tasted detestably--I would not
take it on any account.

'Oh!' said he, releasing me, 'I see that hideous little villain is not
Hareton: I beg your pardon, Nell.  If it be, he deserves flaying alive
for not running to welcome me, and for screaming as if I were a goblin.
Unnatural cub, come hither!  I'll teach thee to impose on a good-hearted,
deluded father.  Now, don't you think the lad would be handsomer cropped?
It makes a dog fiercer, and I love something fierce--get me a
scissors--something fierce and trim!  Besides, it's infernal
affectation--devilish conceit it is, to cherish our ears--we're asses
enough without them.  Hush, child, hush!  Well then, it is my darling!
wisht, dry thy eyes--there's a joy; kiss me.  What! it won't?  Kiss me,
Hareton!  Damn thee, kiss me!  By God, as if I would rear such a monster!
As sure as I'm living, I'll break the brat's neck.'

Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all his
might, and redoubled his yells when he carried him up-stairs and lifted
him over the banister.  I cried out that he would frighten the child into
fits, and ran to rescue him.  As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on
the rails to listen to a noise below; almost forgetting what he had in
his hands.  'Who is that?' he asked, hearing some one approaching the
stairs'-foot.  I leant forward also, for the purpose of signing to
Heathcliff, whose step I recognised, not to come further; and, at the
instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden spring, delivered
himself from the careless grasp that held him, and fell.

There was scarcely time to experience a thrill of horror before we saw
that the little wretch was safe.  Heathcliff arrived underneath just at
the critical moment; by a natural impulse he arrested his descent, and
setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the author of the
accident.  A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket for five
shillings, and finds next day he has lost in the bargain five thousand
pounds, could not show a blanker countenance than he did on beholding the
figure of Mr. Earnshaw above.  It expressed, plainer than words could do,
the intensest anguish at having made himself the instrument of thwarting
his own revenge.  Had it been dark, I daresay he would have tried to
remedy the mistake by smashing Hareton's skull on the steps; but, we
witnessed his salvation; and I was presently below with my precious
charge pressed to my heart.  Hindley descended more leisurely, sobered
and abashed.

'It is your fault, Ellen,' he said; 'you should have kept him out of
sight: you should have taken him from me!  Is he injured anywhere?'

'Injured!' I cried angrily; 'if he is not killed, he'll be an idiot!  Oh!
I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave to see how you use him.
You're worse than a heathen--treating your own flesh and blood in that
manner!'  He attempted to touch the child, who, on finding himself with
me, sobbed off his terror directly.  At the first finger his father laid
on him, however, he shrieked again louder than before, and struggled as
if he would go into convulsions.

'You shall not meddle with him!' I continued.  'He hates you--they all
hate you--that's the truth!  A happy family you have; and a pretty state
you're come to!'

'I shall come to a prettier, yet, Nelly,' laughed the misguided man,
recovering his hardness.  'At present, convey yourself and him away.  And
hark you, Heathcliff! clear you too quite from my reach and hearing.  I
wouldn't murder you to-night; unless, perhaps, I set the house on fire:
but that's as my fancy goes.'

While saying this he took a pint bottle of brandy from the dresser, and
poured some into a tumbler.

'Nay, don't!' I entreated.  'Mr. Hindley, do take warning.  Have mercy on
this unfortunate boy, if you care nothing for yourself!'

'Any one will do better for him than I shall,' he answered.

'Have mercy on your own soul!' I said, endeavouring to snatch the glass
from his hand.

'Not I!  On the contrary, I shall have great pleasure in sending it to
perdition to punish its Maker,' exclaimed the blasphemer.  'Here's to its
hearty damnation!'

He drank the spirits and impatiently bade us go; terminating his command
with a sequel of horrid imprecations too bad to repeat or remember.

'It's a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,' observed Heathcliff,
muttering an echo of curses back when the door was shut.  'He's doing his
very utmost; but his constitution defies him.  Mr. Kenneth says he would
wager his mare that he'll outlive any man on this side Gimmerton, and go
to the grave a hoary sinner; unless some happy chance out of the common
course befall him.'

I went into the kitchen, and sat down to lull my little lamb to sleep.
Heathcliff, as I thought, walked through to the barn.  It turned out
afterwards that he only got as far as the other side the settle, when he
flung himself on a bench by the wall, removed from the fire and remained
silent.

I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song that began,--

   It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat,
   The mither beneath the mools heard that,

when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her room, put her
head in, and whispered,--'Are you alone, Nelly?'

'Yes, Miss,' I replied.

She entered and approached the hearth.  I, supposing she was going to say
something, looked up.  The expression of her face seemed disturbed and
anxious.  Her lips were half asunder, as if she meant to speak, and she
drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence.  I resumed
my song; not having forgotten her recent behaviour.

'Where's Heathcliff?' she said, interrupting me.

'About his work in the stable,' was my answer.

He did not contradict me; perhaps he had fallen into a doze.  There
followed another long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two
trickle from Catherine's cheek to the flags.  Is she sorry for her
shameful conduct?--I asked myself.  That will be a novelty: but she may
come to the point--as she will--I sha'n't help her!  No, she felt small
trouble regarding any subject, save her own concerns.

'Oh, dear!' she cried at last.  'I'm very unhappy!'

'A pity,' observed I.  'You're hard to please; so many friends and so few
cares, and can't make yourself content!'

'Nelly, will you keep a secret for me?' she pursued, kneeling down by me,
and lifting her winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look which
turns off bad temper, even when one has all the right in the world to
indulge it.

'Is it worth keeping?' I inquired, less sulkily.

'Yes, and it worries me, and I must let it out!  I want to know what I
should do.  To-day, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I've
given him an answer.  Now, before I tell you whether it was a consent or
denial, you tell me which it ought to have been.'

'Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?' I replied.  'To be sure,
considering the exhibition you performed in his presence this afternoon,
I might say it would be wise to refuse him: since he asked you after
that, he must either be hopelessly stupid or a venturesome fool.'

'If you talk so, I won't tell you any more,' she returned, peevishly
rising to her feet.  'I accepted him, Nelly.  Be quick, and say whether I
was wrong!'

'You accepted him!  Then what good is it discussing the matter?  You have
pledged your word, and cannot retract.'

'But say whether I should have done so--do!' she exclaimed in an
irritated tone; chafing her hands together, and frowning.

'There are many things to be considered before that question can be
answered properly,' I said, sententiously.  'First and foremost, do you
love Mr. Edgar?'

'Who can help it?  Of course I do,' she answered.

Then I put her through the following catechism: for a girl of twenty-two
it was not injudicious.

'Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?'

'Nonsense, I do--that's sufficient.'

'By no means; you must say why?'

'Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.'

'Bad!' was my commentary.

'And because he is young and cheerful.'

'Bad, still.'

'And because he loves me.'

'Indifferent, coming there.'

'And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the
neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.'

'Worst of all.  And now, say how you love him?'

'As everybody loves--You're silly, Nelly.'

'Not at all--Answer.'

'I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and
everything he touches, and every word he says.  I love all his looks, and
all his actions, and him entirely and altogether.  There now!'

'And why?'

'Nay; you are making a jest of it: it is exceedingly ill-natured!  It's
no jest to me!' said the young lady, scowling, and turning her face to
the fire.

'I'm very far from jesting, Miss Catherine,' I replied.  'You love Mr.
Edgar because he is handsome, and young, and cheerful, and rich, and
loves you.  The last, however, goes for nothing: you would love him
without that, probably; and with it you wouldn't, unless he possessed the
four former attractions.'

'No, to be sure not: I should only pity him--hate him, perhaps, if he
were ugly, and a clown.'

'But there are several other handsome, rich young men in the world:
handsomer, possibly, and richer than he is.  What should hinder you from
loving them?'

'If there be any, they are out of my way: I've seen none like Edgar.'

'You may see some; and he won't always be handsome, and young, and may
not always be rich.'

'He is now; and I have only to do with the present.  I wish you would
speak rationally.'

'Well, that settles it: if you have only to do with the present, marry
Mr. Linton.'

'I don't want your permission for that--I _shall_ marry him: and yet you
have not told me whether I'm right.'

'Perfectly right; if people be right to marry only for the present.  And
now, let us hear what you are unhappy about.  Your brother will be
pleased; the old lady and gentleman will not object, I think; you will
escape from a disorderly, comfortless home into a wealthy, respectable
one; and you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you.  All seems smooth and easy:
where is the obstacle?'

'_Here_! and _here_!' replied Catherine, striking one hand on her
forehead, and the other on her breast: 'in whichever place the soul
lives.  In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I'm wrong!'

'That's very strange!  I cannot make it out.'

'It's my secret.  But if you will not mock at me, I'll explain it: I
can't do it distinctly; but I'll give you a feeling of how I feel.'

She seated herself by me again: her countenance grew sadder and graver,
and her clasped hands trembled.

'Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?' she said, suddenly, after some
minutes' reflection.

'Yes, now and then,' I answered.

'And so do I.  I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me
ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me,
like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.  And this is
one: I'm going to tell it--but take care not to smile at any part of it.'

'Oh! don't, Miss Catherine!' I cried.  'We're dismal enough without
conjuring up ghosts and visions to perplex us.  Come, come, be merry and
like yourself!  Look at little Hareton! _he's_ dreaming nothing dreary.
How sweetly he smiles in his sleep!'

'Yes; and how sweetly his father curses in his solitude!  You remember
him, I daresay, when he was just such another as that chubby thing:
nearly as young and innocent.  However, Nelly, I shall oblige you to
listen: it's not long; and I've no power to be merry to-night.'

'I won't hear it, I won't hear it!' I repeated, hastily.

I was superstitious about dreams then, and am still; and Catherine had an
unusual gloom in her aspect, that made me dread something from which I
might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe.  She was
vexed, but she did not proceed.  Apparently taking up another subject,
she recommenced in a short time.

'If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable.'

'Because you are not fit to go there,' I answered.  'All sinners would be
miserable in heaven.'

'But it is not for that.  I dreamt once that I was there.'

'I tell you I won't hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine!  I'll go to
bed,' I interrupted again.

She laughed, and held me down; for I made a motion to leave my chair.

'This is nothing,' cried she: 'I was only going to say that heaven did
not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to
earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the
middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing
for joy.  That will do to explain my secret, as well as the other.  I've
no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and
if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't
have thought of it.  It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he
shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome,
Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am.  Whatever our souls are
made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a
moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.'

Ere this speech ended I became sensible of Heathcliff's presence.  Having
noticed a slight movement, I turned my head, and saw him rise from the
bench, and steal out noiselessly.  He had listened till he heard
Catherine say it would degrade her to marry him, and then he stayed to
hear no further.  My companion, sitting on the ground, was prevented by
the back of the settle from remarking his presence or departure; but I
started, and bade her hush!

'Why?' she asked, gazing nervously round.

'Joseph is here,' I answered, catching opportunely the roll of his
cartwheels up the road; 'and Heathcliff will come in with him.  I'm not
sure whether he were not at the door this moment.'

'Oh, he couldn't overhear me at the door!' said she.  'Give me Hareton,
while you get the supper, and when it is ready ask me to sup with you.  I
want to cheat my uncomfortable conscience, and be convinced that
Heathcliff has no notion of these things.  He has not, has he?  He does
not know what being in love is!'

'I see no reason that he should not know, as well as you,' I returned;
'and if you are his choice, he'll be the most unfortunate creature that
ever was born!  As soon as you become Mrs. Linton, he loses friend, and
love, and all!  Have you considered how you'll bear the separation, and
how he'll bear to be quite deserted in the world?  Because, Miss
Catherine--'

'He quite deserted! we separated!' she exclaimed, with an accent of
indignation.  'Who is to separate us, pray?  They'll meet the fate of
Milo!  Not as long as I live, Ellen: for no mortal creature.  Every
Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing before I could
consent to forsake Heathcliff.  Oh, that's not what I intend--that's not
what I mean!  I shouldn't be Mrs. Linton were such a price demanded!
He'll be as much to me as he has been all his lifetime.  Edgar must shake
off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least.  He will, when he learns
my true feelings towards him.  Nelly, I see now you think me a selfish
wretch; but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we
should be beggars? whereas, if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to
rise, and place him out of my brother's power.'

'With your husband's money, Miss Catherine?' I asked.  'You'll find him
not so pliable as you calculate upon: and, though I'm hardly a judge, I
think that's the worst motive you've given yet for being the wife of
young Linton.'

'It is not,' retorted she; 'it is the best!  The others were the
satisfaction of my whims: and for Edgar's sake, too, to satisfy him.  This
is for the sake of one who comprehends in his person my feelings to Edgar
and myself.  I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a
notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.  What
were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?  My great
miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and
felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself.  If
all else perished, and _he_ remained, _I_ should still continue to be;
and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would
turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.--My love for
Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well
aware, as winter changes the trees.  My love for Heathcliff resembles the
eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
Nelly, I _am_ Heathcliff!  He's always, always in my mind: not as a
pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own
being.  So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable; and--'

She paused, and hid her face in the folds of my gown; but I jerked it
forcibly away.  I was out of patience with her folly!

'If I can make any sense of your nonsense, Miss,' I said, 'it only goes
to convince me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake in
marrying; or else that you are a wicked, unprincipled girl.  But trouble
me with no more secrets: I'll not promise to keep them.'

'You'll keep that?' she asked, eagerly.

'No, I'll not promise,' I repeated.

She was about to insist, when the entrance of Joseph finished our
conversation; and Catherine removed her seat to a corner, and nursed
Hareton, while I made the supper.  After it was cooked, my fellow-servant
and I began to quarrel who should carry some to Mr. Hindley; and we
didn't settle it till all was nearly cold.  Then we came to the agreement
that we would let him ask, if he wanted any; for we feared particularly
to go into his presence when he had been some time alone.

'And how isn't that nowt comed in fro' th' field, be this time?  What is
he about? girt idle seeght!' demanded the old man, looking round for
Heathcliff.

'I'll call him,' I replied.  'He's in the barn, I've no doubt.'

I went and called, but got no answer.  On returning, I whispered to
Catherine that he had heard a good part of what she said, I was sure; and
told how I saw him quit the kitchen just as she complained of her
brother's conduct regarding him.  She jumped up in a fine fright, flung
Hareton on to the settle, and ran to seek for her friend herself; not
taking leisure to consider why she was so flurried, or how her talk would
have affected him.  She was absent such a while that Joseph proposed we
should wait no longer.  He cunningly conjectured they were staying away
in order to avoid hearing his protracted blessing.  They were 'ill eneugh
for ony fahl manners,' he affirmed.  And on their behalf he added that
night a special prayer to the usual quarter-of-an-hour's supplication
before meat, and would have tacked another to the end of the grace, had
not his young mistress broken in upon him with a hurried command that he
must run down the road, and, wherever Heathcliff had rambled, find and
make him re-enter directly!

'I want to speak to him, and I _must_, before I go upstairs,' she said.
'And the gate is open: he is somewhere out of hearing; for he would not
reply, though I shouted at the top of the fold as loud as I could.'

Joseph objected at first; she was too much in earnest, however, to suffer
contradiction; and at last he placed his hat on his head, and walked
grumbling forth.  Meantime, Catherine paced up and down the floor,
exclaiming--'I wonder where he is--I wonder where he can be!  What did I
say, Nelly?  I've forgotten.  Was he vexed at my bad humour this
afternoon?  Dear! tell me what I've said to grieve him?  I do wish he'd
come.  I do wish he would!'

'What a noise for nothing!' I cried, though rather uneasy myself.  'What
a trifle scares you!  It's surely no great cause of alarm that Heathcliff
should take a moonlight saunter on the moors, or even lie too sulky to
speak to us in the hay-loft.  I'll engage he's lurking there.  See if I
don't ferret him out!'

I departed to renew my search; its result was disappointment, and
Joseph's quest ended in the same.

'Yon lad gets war und war!' observed he on re-entering.  'He's left th'
gate at t' full swing, and Miss's pony has trodden dahn two rigs o' corn,
and plottered through, raight o'er into t' meadow!  Hahsomdiver, t'
maister 'ull play t' devil to-morn, and he'll do weel.  He's patience
itsseln wi' sich careless, offald craters--patience itsseln he is!  Bud
he'll not be soa allus--yah's see, all on ye!  Yah mun'n't drive him out
of his heead for nowt!'

'Have you found Heathcliff, you ass?' interrupted Catherine.  'Have you
been looking for him, as I ordered?'

'I sud more likker look for th' horse,' he replied.  'It 'ud be to more
sense.  Bud I can look for norther horse nur man of a neeght loike
this--as black as t' chimbley! und Heathcliff's noan t' chap to coom at
_my_ whistle--happen he'll be less hard o' hearing wi' _ye_!'

It _was_ a very dark evening for summer: the clouds appeared inclined to
thunder, and I said we had better all sit down; the approaching rain
would be certain to bring him home without further trouble.  However,
Catherine would not be persuaded into tranquillity.  She kept wandering
to and fro, from the gate to the door, in a state of agitation which
permitted no repose; and at length took up a permanent situation on one
side of the wall, near the road: where, heedless of my expostulations and
the growling thunder, and the great drops that began to plash around her,
she remained, calling at intervals, and then listening, and then crying
outright.  She beat Hareton, or any child, at a good passionate fit of
crying.

About midnight, while we still sat up, the storm came rattling over the
Heights in full fury.  There was a violent wind, as well as thunder, and
either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building: a
huge bough fell across the roof, and knocked down a portion of the east
chimney-stack, sending a clatter of stones and soot into the
kitchen-fire.  We thought a bolt had fallen in the middle of us; and
Joseph swung on to his knees, beseeching the Lord to remember the
patriarchs Noah and Lot, and, as in former times, spare the righteous,
though he smote the ungodly.  I felt some sentiment that it must be a
judgment on us also.  The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr. Earnshaw; and I
shook the handle of his den that I might ascertain if he were yet living.
He replied audibly enough, in a fashion which made my companion
vociferate, more clamorously than before, that a wide distinction might
be drawn between saints like himself and sinners like his master.  But
the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all unharmed;
excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched for her obstinacy in
refusing to take shelter, and standing bonnetless and shawlless to catch
as much water as she could with her hair and clothes.  She came in and
lay down on the settle, all soaked as she was, turning her face to the
back, and putting her hands before it.

'Well, Miss!' I exclaimed, touching her shoulder; 'you are not bent on
getting your death, are you?  Do you know what o'clock it is?  Half-past
twelve.  Come, come to bed! there's no use waiting any longer on that
foolish boy: he'll be gone to Gimmerton, and he'll stay there now.  He
guesses we shouldn't wait for him till this late hour: at least, he
guesses that only Mr. Hindley would be up; and he'd rather avoid having
the door opened by the master.'

'Nay, nay, he's noan at Gimmerton,' said Joseph.  'I's niver wonder but
he's at t' bothom of a bog-hoile.  This visitation worn't for nowt, and I
wod hev' ye to look out, Miss--yah muh be t' next.  Thank Hivin for all!
All warks togither for gooid to them as is chozzen, and piked out fro'
th' rubbidge!  Yah knaw whet t' Scripture ses.'  And he began quoting
several texts, referring us to chapters and verses where we might find
them.

I, having vainly begged the wilful girl to rise and remove her wet
things, left him preaching and her shivering, and betook myself to bed
with little Hareton, who slept as fast as if everyone had been sleeping
round him.  I heard Joseph read on a while afterwards; then I
distinguished his slow step on the ladder, and then I dropped asleep.

Coming down somewhat later than usual, I saw, by the sunbeams piercing
the chinks of the shutters, Miss Catherine still seated near the
fireplace.  The house-door was ajar, too; light entered from its unclosed
windows; Hindley had come out, and stood on the kitchen hearth, haggard
and drowsy.

'What ails you, Cathy?' he was saying when I entered: 'you look as dismal
as a drowned whelp.  Why are you so damp and pale, child?'

'I've been wet,' she answered reluctantly, 'and I'm cold, that's all.'

'Oh, she is naughty!' I cried, perceiving the master to be tolerably
sober.  'She got steeped in the shower of yesterday evening, and there
she has sat the night through, and I couldn't prevail on her to stir.'

Mr. Earnshaw stared at us in surprise.  'The night through,' he repeated.
'What kept her up? not fear of the thunder, surely?  That was over hours
since.'

Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff's absence, as long as we could
conceal it; so I replied, I didn't know how she took it into her head to
sit up; and she said nothing.  The morning was fresh and cool; I threw
back the lattice, and presently the room filled with sweet scents from
the garden; but Catherine called peevishly to me, 'Ellen, shut the
window.  I'm starving!'  And her teeth chattered as she shrank closer to
the almost extinguished embers.

'She's ill,' said Hindley, taking her wrist; 'I suppose that's the reason
she would not go to bed.  Damn it!  I don't want to be troubled with more
sickness here.  What took you into the rain?'

'Running after t' lads, as usuald!' croaked Joseph, catching an
opportunity from our hesitation to thrust in his evil tongue.  'If I war
yah, maister, I'd just slam t' boards i' their faces all on 'em, gentle
and simple!  Never a day ut yah're off, but yon cat o' Linton comes
sneaking hither; and Miss Nelly, shoo's a fine lass! shoo sits watching
for ye i' t' kitchen; and as yah're in at one door, he's out at t'other;
and, then, wer grand lady goes a-courting of her side!  It's bonny
behaviour, lurking amang t' fields, after twelve o' t' night, wi' that
fahl, flaysome divil of a gipsy, Heathcliff!  They think _I'm_ blind; but
I'm noan: nowt ut t' soart!--I seed young Linton boath coming and going,
and I seed _yah_' (directing his discourse to me), 'yah gooid fur nowt,
slattenly witch! nip up and bolt into th' house, t' minute yah heard t'
maister's horse-fit clatter up t' road.'

'Silence, eavesdropper!' cried Catherine; 'none of your insolence before
me!  Edgar Linton came yesterday by chance, Hindley; and it was _I_ who
told him to be off: because I knew you would not like to have met him as
you were.'

'You lie, Cathy, no doubt,' answered her brother, 'and you are a
confounded simpleton!  But never mind Linton at present: tell me, were
you not with Heathcliff last night?  Speak the truth, now.  You need not
be afraid of harming him: though I hate him as much as ever, he did me a
good turn a short time since that will make my conscience tender of
breaking his neck.  To prevent it, I shall send him about his business
this very morning; and after he's gone, I'd advise you all to look sharp:
I shall only have the more humour for you.'

'I never saw Heathcliff last night,' answered Catherine, beginning to sob
bitterly: 'and if you do turn him out of doors, I'll go with him.  But,
perhaps, you'll never have an opportunity: perhaps, he's gone.'  Here she
burst into uncontrollable grief, and the remainder of her words were
inarticulate.

Hindley lavished on her a torrent of scornful abuse, and bade her get to
her room immediately, or she shouldn't cry for nothing!  I obliged her to
obey; and I shall never forget what a scene she acted when we reached her
chamber: it terrified me.  I thought she was going mad, and I begged
Joseph to run for the doctor.  It proved the commencement of delirium:
Mr. Kenneth, as soon as he saw her, pronounced her dangerously ill; she
had a fever.  He bled her, and he told me to let her live on whey and
water-gruel, and take care she did not throw herself downstairs or out of
the window; and then he left: for he had enough to do in the parish,
where two or three miles was the ordinary distance between cottage and
cottage.

Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master were
no better, and though our patient was as wearisome and headstrong as a
patient could be, she weathered it through.  Old Mrs. Linton paid us
several visits, to be sure, and set things to rights, and scolded and
ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent, she insisted on
conveying her to Thrushcross Grange: for which deliverance we were very
grateful.  But the poor dame had reason to repent of her kindness: she
and her husband both took the fever, and died within a few days of each
other.

Our young lady returned to us saucier and more passionate, and haughtier
than ever.  Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of the
thunder-storm; and, one day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked
me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her: where
indeed it belonged, as she well knew.  From that period, for several
months, she ceased to hold any communication with me, save in the
relation of a mere servant.  Joseph fell under a ban also: he would speak
his mind, and lecture her all the same as if she were a little girl; and
she esteemed herself a woman, and our mistress, and thought that her
recent illness gave her a claim to be treated with consideration.  Then
the doctor had said that she would not bear crossing much; she ought to
have her own way; and it was nothing less than murder in her eyes for any
one to presume to stand up and contradict her.  From Mr. Earnshaw and his
companions she kept aloof; and tutored by Kenneth, and serious threats of
a fit that often attended her rages, her brother allowed her whatever she
pleased to demand, and generally avoided aggravating her fiery temper.  He
was rather too indulgent in humouring her caprices; not from affection,
but from pride: he wished earnestly to see her bring honour to the family
by an alliance with the Lintons, and as long as she let him alone she
might trample on us like slaves, for aught he cared!  Edgar Linton, as
multitudes have been before and will be after him, was infatuated: and
believed himself the happiest man alive on the day he led her to
Gimmerton Chapel, three years subsequent to his father's death.

Much against my inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights
and accompany her here. Little Hareton was nearly five years old, and I
had just begun to teach him his letters.  We made a sad parting; but
Catherine's tears were more powerful than ours.  When I refused to go,
and when she found her entreaties did not move me, she went lamenting to
her husband and brother.  The former offered me munificent wages; the
latter ordered me to pack up: he wanted no women in the house, he said,
now that there was no mistress; and as to Hareton, the curate should take
him in hand, by-and-by.  And so I had but one choice left: to do as I was
ordered.  I told the master he got rid of all decent people only to run
to ruin a little faster; I kissed Hareton, said good-by; and since then
he has been a stranger: and it's very queer to think it, but I've no
doubt he has completely forgotten all about Ellen Dean, and that he was
ever more than all the world to her and she to him!

* * * * *

At this point of the housekeeper's story she chanced to glance towards
the time-piece over the chimney; and was in amazement on seeing the
minute-hand measure half-past one.  She would not hear of staying a
second longer: in truth, I felt rather disposed to defer the sequel of
her narrative myself.  And now that she is vanished to her rest, and I
have meditated for another hour or two, I shall summon courage to go
also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.





A charming introduction to a hermit's life!  Four weeks' torture,
tossing, and sickness!  Oh, these bleak winds and bitter northern skies,
and impassable roads, and dilatory country surgeons!  And oh, this dearth
of the human physiognomy! and, worse than all, the terrible intimation of
Kenneth that I need not expect to be out of doors till spring!

Mr. Heathcliff has just honoured me with a call.  About seven days ago he
sent me a brace of grouse--the last of the season.  Scoundrel!  He is not
altogether guiltless in this illness of mine; and that I had a great mind
to tell him.  But, alas! how could I offend a man who was charitable
enough to sit at my bedside a good hour, and talk on some other subject
than pills and draughts, blisters and leeches?  This is quite an easy
interval.  I am too weak to read; yet I feel as if I could enjoy
something interesting.  Why not have up Mrs. Dean to finish her tale?  I
can recollect its chief incidents, as far as she had gone.  Yes: I
remember her hero had run off, and never been heard of for three years;
and the heroine was married.  I'll ring: she'll be delighted to find me
capable of talking cheerfully.  Mrs. Dean came.

'It wants twenty minutes, sir, to taking the medicine,' she commenced.

'Away, away with it!' I replied; 'I desire to have--'

'The doctor says you must drop the powders.'

'With all my heart!  Don't interrupt me.  Come and take your seat here.
Keep your fingers from that bitter phalanx of vials.  Draw your knitting
out of your pocket--that will do--now continue the history of Mr.
Heathcliff, from where you left off, to the present day.  Did he finish
his education on the Continent, and come back a gentleman? or did he get
a sizar's place at college, or escape to America, and earn honours by
drawing blood from his foster-country? or make a fortune more promptly on
the English highways?'

'He may have done a little in all these vocations, Mr. Lockwood; but I
couldn't give my word for any.  I stated before that I didn't know how he
gained his money; neither am I aware of the means he took to raise his
mind from the savage ignorance into which it was sunk: but, with your
leave, I'll proceed in my own fashion, if you think it will amuse and not
weary you.  Are you feeling better this morning?'

'Much.'

'That's good news.'

* * * * *

I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange; and, to my
agreeable disappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared to
expect.  She seemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton; and even to his
sister she showed plenty of affection.  They were both very attentive to
her comfort, certainly.  It was not the thorn bending to the
honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.  There were no
mutual concessions: one stood erect, and the others yielded: and who can
be ill-natured and bad-tempered when they encounter neither opposition
nor indifference?  I observed that Mr. Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of
ruffling her humour.  He concealed it from her; but if ever he heard me
answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some imperious
order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure that
never darkened on his own account.  He many a time spoke sternly to me
about my pertness; and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict
a worse pang than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed.  Not to grieve a
kind master, I learned to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a
year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to
explode it.  Catherine had seasons of gloom and silence now and then:
they were respected with sympathising silence by her husband, who
ascribed them to an alteration in her constitution, produced by her
perilous illness; as she was never subject to depression of spirits
before.  The return of sunshine was welcomed by answering sunshine from
him.  I believe I may assert that they were really in possession of deep
and growing happiness.

It ended.  Well, we _must_ be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and
generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering; and it ended
when circumstances caused each to feel that the one's interest was not
the chief consideration in the other's thoughts.  On a mellow evening in
September, I was coming from the garden with a heavy basket of apples
which I had been gathering.  It had got dusk, and the moon looked over
the high wall of the court, causing undefined shadows to lurk in the
corners of the numerous projecting portions of the building.  I set my
burden on the house-steps by the kitchen-door, and lingered to rest, and
drew in a few more breaths of the soft, sweet air; my eyes were on the
moon, and my back to the entrance, when I heard a voice behind me
say,--'Nelly, is that you?'

It was a deep voice, and foreign in tone; yet there was something in the
manner of pronouncing my name which made it sound familiar.  I turned
about to discover who spoke, fearfully; for the doors were shut, and I
had seen nobody on approaching the steps.  Something stirred in the
porch; and, moving nearer, I distinguished a tall man dressed in dark
clothes, with dark face and hair.  He leant against the side, and held
his fingers on the latch as if intending to open for himself.  'Who can
it be?' I thought.  'Mr. Earnshaw?  Oh, no!  The voice has no resemblance
to his.'

'I have waited here an hour,' he resumed, while I continued staring; 'and
the whole of that time all round has been as still as death.  I dared not
enter.  You do not know me?  Look, I'm not a stranger!'

A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow, and half covered with
black whiskers; the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular.  I
remembered the eyes.

'What!' I cried, uncertain whether to regard him as a worldly visitor,
and I raised my hands in amazement.  'What! you come back?  Is it really
you?  Is it?'

'Yes, Heathcliff,' he replied, glancing from me up to the windows, which
reflected a score of glittering moons, but showed no lights from within.
'Are they at home? where is she?  Nelly, you are not glad! you needn't be
so disturbed.  Is she here?  Speak!  I want to have one word with
her--your mistress.  Go, and say some person from Gimmerton desires to
see her.'

'How will she take it?' I exclaimed.  'What will she do?  The surprise
bewilders me--it will put her out of her head!  And you _are_ Heathcliff!
But altered!  Nay, there's no comprehending it.  Have you been for a
soldier?'

'Go and carry my message,' he interrupted, impatiently.  'I'm in hell
till you do!'

He lifted the latch, and I entered; but when I got to the parlour where
Mr. and Mrs. Linton were, I could not persuade myself to proceed.  At
length I resolved on making an excuse to ask if they would have the
candles lighted, and I opened the door.

They sat together in a window whose lattice lay back against the wall,
and displayed, beyond the garden trees, and the wild green park, the
valley of Gimmerton, with a long line of mist winding nearly to its top
(for very soon after you pass the chapel, as you may have noticed, the
sough that runs from the marshes joins a beck which follows the bend of
the glen).  Wuthering Heights rose above this silvery vapour; but our old
house was invisible; it rather dips down on the other side.  Both the
room and its occupants, and the scene they gazed on, looked wondrously
peaceful.  I shrank reluctantly from performing my errand; and was
actually going away leaving it unsaid, after having put my question about
the candles, when a sense of my folly compelled me to return, and mutter,
'A person from Gimmerton wishes to see you ma'am.'

'What does he want?' asked Mrs. Linton.

'I did not question him,' I answered.

'Well, close the curtains, Nelly,' she said; 'and bring up tea.  I'll be
back again directly.'

She quitted the apartment; Mr. Edgar inquired, carelessly, who it was.

'Some one mistress does not expect,' I replied.  'That Heathcliff--you
recollect him, sir--who used to live at Mr. Earnshaw's.'

'What! the gipsy--the ploughboy?' he cried.  'Why did you not say so to
Catherine?'

'Hush! you must not call him by those names, master,' I said.  'She'd be
sadly grieved to hear you.  She was nearly heartbroken when he ran off.  I
guess his return will make a jubilee to her.'

Mr. Linton walked to a window on the other side of the room that
overlooked the court.  He unfastened it, and leant out.  I suppose they
were below, for he exclaimed quickly: 'Don't stand there, love!  Bring
the person in, if it be anyone particular.'  Ere long, I heard the click
of the latch, and Catherine flew up-stairs, breathless and wild; too
excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have
surmised an awful calamity.

'Oh, Edgar, Edgar!' she panted, flinging her arms round his neck.  'Oh,
Edgar darling!  Heathcliff's come back--he is!'  And she tightened her
embrace to a squeeze.

'Well, well,' cried her husband, crossly, 'don't strangle me for that!  He
never struck me as such a marvellous treasure.  There is no need to be
frantic!'

'I know you didn't like him,' she answered, repressing a little the
intensity of her delight.  'Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now.
Shall I tell him to come up?'

'Here,' he said, 'into the parlour?'

'Where else?' she asked.

He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place for
him.  Mrs. Linton eyed him with a droll expression--half angry, half
laughing at his fastidiousness.

'No,' she added, after a while; 'I cannot sit in the kitchen.  Set two
tables here, Ellen: one for your master and Miss Isabella, being gentry;
the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders.  Will
that please you, dear?  Or must I have a fire lighted elsewhere?  If so,
give directions.  I'll run down and secure my guest.  I'm afraid the joy
is too great to be real!'

She was about to dart off again; but Edgar arrested her.

'_You_ bid him step up,' he said, addressing me; 'and, Catherine, try to
be glad, without being absurd.  The whole household need not witness the
sight of your welcoming a runaway servant as a brother.'

I descended, and found Heathcliff waiting under the porch, evidently
anticipating an invitation to enter.  He followed my guidance without
waste of words, and I ushered him into the presence of the master and
mistress, whose flushed cheeks betrayed signs of warm talking.  But the
lady's glowed with another feeling when her friend appeared at the door:
she sprang forward, took both his hands, and led him to Linton; and then
she seized Linton's reluctant fingers and crushed them into his.  Now,
fully revealed by the fire and candlelight, I was amazed, more than ever,
to behold the transformation of Heathcliff.  He had grown a tall,
athletic, well-formed man; beside whom my master seemed quite slender and
youth-like.  His upright carriage suggested the idea of his having been
in the army.  His countenance was much older in expression and decision
of feature than Mr. Linton's; it looked intelligent, and retained no
marks of former degradation.  A half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the
depressed brows and eyes full of black fire, but it was subdued; and his
manner was even dignified: quite divested of roughness, though stern for
grace.  My master's surprise equalled or exceeded mine: he remained for a
minute at a loss how to address the ploughboy, as he had called him.
Heathcliff dropped his slight hand, and stood looking at him coolly till
he chose to speak.

'Sit down, sir,' he said, at length.  'Mrs. Linton, recalling old times,
would have me give you a cordial reception; and, of course, I am
gratified when anything occurs to please her.'

'And I also,' answered Heathcliff, 'especially if it be anything in which
I have a part.  I shall stay an hour or two willingly.'

He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if
she feared he would vanish were she to remove it.  He did not raise his
to her often: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but it flashed back,
each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers.
They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarrassment.
Not so Mr. Edgar: he grew pale with pure annoyance: a feeling that
reached its climax when his lady rose, and stepping across the rug,
seized Heathcliff's hands again, and laughed like one beside herself.

'I shall think it a dream to-morrow!' she cried.  'I shall not be able to
believe that I have seen, and touched, and spoken to you once more.  And
yet, cruel Heathcliff! you don't deserve this welcome.  To be absent and
silent for three years, and never to think of me!'

'A little more than you have thought of me,' he murmured.  'I heard of
your marriage, Cathy, not long since; and, while waiting in the yard
below, I meditated this plan--just to have one glimpse of your face, a
stare of surprise, perhaps, and pretended pleasure; afterwards settle my
score with Hindley; and then prevent the law by doing execution on
myself.  Your welcome has put these ideas out of my mind; but beware of
meeting me with another aspect next time!  Nay, you'll not drive me off
again.  You were really sorry for me, were you?  Well, there was cause.
I've fought through a bitter life since I last heard your voice; and you
must forgive me, for I struggled only for you!'

'Catherine, unless we are to have cold tea, please to come to the table,'
interrupted Linton, striving to preserve his ordinary tone, and a due
measure of politeness.  'Mr. Heathcliff will have a long walk, wherever
he may lodge to-night; and I'm thirsty.'

She took her post before the urn; and Miss Isabella came, summoned by the
bell; then, having handed their chairs forward, I left the room.  The
meal hardly endured ten minutes.  Catherine's cup was never filled: she
could neither eat nor drink.  Edgar had made a slop in his saucer, and
scarcely swallowed a mouthful.  Their guest did not protract his stay
that evening above an hour longer.  I asked, as he departed, if he went
to Gimmerton?

'No, to Wuthering Heights,' he answered: 'Mr. Earnshaw invited me, when I
called this morning.'

Mr. Earnshaw invited _him_! and _he_ called on Mr. Earnshaw!  I pondered
this sentence painfully, after he was gone.  Is he turning out a bit of a
hypocrite, and coming into the country to work mischief under a cloak?  I
mused: I had a presentiment in the bottom of my heart that he had better
have remained away.

About the middle of the night, I was wakened from my first nap by Mrs.
Linton gliding into my chamber, taking a seat on my bedside, and pulling
me by the hair to rouse me.

'I cannot rest, Ellen,' she said, by way of apology.  'And I want some
living creature to keep me company in my happiness!  Edgar is sulky,
because I'm glad of a thing that does not interest him: he refuses to
open his mouth, except to utter pettish, silly speeches; and he affirmed
I was cruel and selfish for wishing to talk when he was so sick and
sleepy.  He always contrives to be sick at the least cross!  I gave a few
sentences of commendation to Heathcliff, and he, either for a headache or
a pang of envy, began to cry: so I got up and left him.'

'What use is it praising Heathcliff to him?' I answered.  'As lads they
had an aversion to each other, and Heathcliff would hate just as much to
hear him praised: it's human nature.  Let Mr. Linton alone about him,
unless you would like an open quarrel between them.'

'But does it not show great weakness?' pursued she.  'I'm not envious: I
never feel hurt at the brightness of Isabella's yellow hair and the
whiteness of her skin, at her dainty elegance, and the fondness all the
family exhibit for her.  Even you, Nelly, if we have a dispute sometimes,
you back Isabella at once; and I yield like a foolish mother: I call her
a darling, and flatter her into a good temper.  It pleases her brother to
see us cordial, and that pleases me.  But they are very much alike: they
are spoiled children, and fancy the world was made for their
accommodation; and though I humour both, I think a smart chastisement
might improve them all the same.'

'You're mistaken, Mrs. Linton,' said I.  'They humour you: I know what
there would be to do if they did not.  You can well afford to indulge
their passing whims as long as their business is to anticipate all your
desires.  You may, however, fall out, at last, over something of equal
consequence to both sides; and then those you term weak are very capable
of being as obstinate as you.'

'And then we shall fight to the death, sha'n't we, Nelly?' she returned,
laughing.  'No! I tell you, I have such faith in Linton's love, that I
believe I might kill him, and he wouldn't wish to retaliate.'

I advised her to value him the more for his affection.

'I do,' she answered, 'but he needn't resort to whining for trifles.  It
is childish and, instead of melting into tears because I said that
Heathcliff was now worthy of anyone's regard, and it would honour the
first gentleman in the country to be his friend, he ought to have said it
for me, and been delighted from sympathy.  He must get accustomed to him,
and he may as well like him: considering how Heathcliff has reason to
object to him, I'm sure he behaved excellently!'

'What do you think of his going to Wuthering Heights?' I inquired.  'He
is reformed in every respect, apparently: quite a Christian: offering the
right hand of fellowship to his enemies all around!'

'He explained it,' she replied.  'I wonder as much as you.  He said he
called to gather information concerning me from you, supposing you
resided there still; and Joseph told Hindley, who came out and fell to
questioning him of what he had been doing, and how he had been living;
and finally, desired him to walk in.  There were some persons sitting at
cards; Heathcliff joined them; my brother lost some money to him, and,
finding him plentifully supplied, he requested that he would come again
in the evening: to which he consented.  Hindley is too reckless to select
his acquaintance prudently: he doesn't trouble himself to reflect on the
causes he might have for mistrusting one whom he has basely injured.  But
Heathcliff affirms his principal reason for resuming a connection with
his ancient persecutor is a wish to install himself in quarters at walking
distance from the Grange, and an attachment to the house where we lived
together; and likewise a hope that I shall have more opportunities of
seeing him there than I could have if he settled in Gimmerton.  He means
to offer liberal payment for permission to lodge at the Heights; and
doubtless my brother's covetousness will prompt him to accept the terms:
he was always greedy; though what he grasps with one hand he flings away
with the other.'

'It's a nice place for a young man to fix his dwelling in!' said I.  'Have
you no fear of the consequences, Mrs. Linton?'

'None for my friend,' she replied: 'his strong head will keep him from
danger; a little for Hindley: but he can't be made morally worse than he
is; and I stand between him and bodily harm.  The event of this evening
has reconciled me to God and humanity!  I had risen in angry rebellion
against Providence.  Oh, I've endured very, very bitter misery, Nelly!  If
that creature knew how bitter, he'd be ashamed to cloud its removal with
idle petulance.  It was kindness for him which induced me to bear it
alone: had I expressed the agony I frequently felt, he would have been
taught to long for its alleviation as ardently as I.  However, it's over,
and I'll take no revenge on his folly; I can afford to suffer anything
hereafter!  Should the meanest thing alive slap me on the cheek, I'd not
only turn the other, but I'd ask pardon for provoking it; and, as a
proof, I'll go make my peace with Edgar instantly.  Good-night!  I'm an
angel!'

In this self-complacent conviction she departed; and the success of her
fulfilled resolution was obvious on the morrow: Mr. Linton had not only
abjured his peevishness (though his spirits seemed still subdued by
Catherine's exuberance of vivacity), but he ventured no objection to her
taking Isabella with her to Wuthering Heights in the afternoon; and she
rewarded him with such a summer of sweetness and affection in return as
made the house a paradise for several days; both master and servants
profiting from the perpetual sunshine.

Heathcliff--Mr. Heathcliff I should say in future--used the liberty of
visiting at Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first: he seemed estimating
how far its owner would bear his intrusion.  Catherine, also, deemed it
judicious to moderate her expressions of pleasure in receiving him; and
he gradually established his right to be expected.  He retained a great
deal of the reserve for which his boyhood was remarkable; and that served
to repress all startling demonstrations of feeling.  My master's
uneasiness experienced a lull, and further circumstances diverted it into
another channel for a space.

His new source of trouble sprang from the not anticipated misfortune of
Isabella Linton evincing a sudden and irresistible attraction towards the
tolerated guest.  She was at that time a charming young lady of eighteen;
infantile in manners, though possessed of keen wit, keen feelings, and a
keen temper, too, if irritated.  Her brother, who loved her tenderly, was
appalled at this fantastic preference.  Leaving aside the degradation of
an alliance with a nameless man, and the possible fact that his property,
in default of heirs male, might pass into such a one's power, he had
sense to comprehend Heathcliff's disposition: to know that, though his
exterior was altered, his mind was unchangeable and unchanged.  And he
dreaded that mind: it revolted him: he shrank forebodingly from the idea
of committing Isabella to its keeping.  He would have recoiled still more
had he been aware that her attachment rose unsolicited, and was bestowed
where it awakened no reciprocation of sentiment; for the minute he
discovered its existence he laid the blame on Heathcliff's deliberate
designing.

We had all remarked, during some time, that Miss Linton fretted and pined
over something.  She grew cross and wearisome; snapping at and teasing
Catherine continually, at the imminent risk of exhausting her limited
patience.  We excused her, to a certain extent, on the plea of
ill-health: she was dwindling and fading before our eyes.  But one day,
when she had been peculiarly wayward, rejecting her breakfast,
complaining that the servants did not do what she told them; that the
mistress would allow her to be nothing in the house, and Edgar neglected
her; that she had caught a cold with the doors being left open, and we
let the parlour fire go out on purpose to vex her, with a hundred yet
more frivolous accusations, Mrs. Linton peremptorily insisted that she
should get to bed; and, having scolded her heartily, threatened to send
for the doctor.  Mention of Kenneth caused her to exclaim, instantly,
that her health was perfect, and it was only Catherine's harshness which
made her unhappy.

'How can you say I am harsh, you naughty fondling?' cried the mistress,
amazed at the unreasonable assertion.  'You are surely losing your
reason.  When have I been harsh, tell me?'

'Yesterday,' sobbed Isabella, 'and now!'

'Yesterday!' said her sister-in-law.  'On what occasion?'

'In our walk along the moor: you told me to ramble where I pleased, while
you sauntered on with Mr. Heathcliff!'

'And that's your notion of harshness?' said Catherine, laughing.  'It was
no hint that your company was superfluous?  We didn't care whether you
kept with us or not; I merely thought Heathcliff's talk would have
nothing entertaining for your ears.'

'Oh, no,' wept the young lady; 'you wished me away, because you knew I
liked to be there!'

'Is she sane?' asked Mrs. Linton, appealing to me.  'I'll repeat our
conversation, word for word, Isabella; and you point out any charm it
could have had for you.'

'I don't mind the conversation,' she answered: 'I wanted to be with--'

'Well?' said Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete the sentence.

'With him: and I won't be always sent off!' she continued, kindling up.
'You are a dog in the manger, Cathy, and desire no one to be loved but
yourself!'

'You are an impertinent little monkey!' exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in
surprise.  'But I'll not believe this idiotcy!  It is impossible that you
can covet the admiration of Heathcliff--that you consider him an
agreeable person!  I hope I have misunderstood you, Isabella?'

'No, you have not,' said the infatuated girl.  'I love him more than ever
you loved Edgar, and he might love me, if you would let him!'

'I wouldn't be you for a kingdom, then!' Catherine declared,
emphatically: and she seemed to speak sincerely.  'Nelly, help me to
convince her of her madness.  Tell her what Heathcliff is: an unreclaimed
creature, without refinement, without cultivation; an arid wilderness of
furze and whinstone.  I'd as soon put that little canary into the park on
a winter's day, as recommend you to bestow your heart on him!  It is
deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which
makes that dream enter your head.  Pray, don't imagine that he conceals
depths of benevolence and affection beneath a stern exterior!  He's not a
rough diamond--a pearl-containing oyster of a rustic: he's a fierce,
pitiless, wolfish man.  I never say to him, "Let this or that enemy
alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to harm them;" I say, "Let
them alone, because _I_ should hate them to be wronged:" and he'd crush
you like a sparrow's egg, Isabella, if he found you a troublesome charge.
I know he couldn't love a Linton; and yet he'd be quite capable of
marrying your fortune and expectations: avarice is growing with him a
besetting sin.  There's my picture: and I'm his friend--so much so, that
had he thought seriously to catch you, I should, perhaps, have held my
tongue, and let you fall into his trap.'

Miss Linton regarded her sister-in-law with indignation.

'For shame! for shame!' she repeated, angrily.  'You are worse than
twenty foes, you poisonous friend!'

'Ah! you won't believe me, then?' said Catherine.  'You think I speak
from wicked selfishness?'

'I'm certain you do,' retorted Isabella; 'and I shudder at you!'

'Good!' cried the other.  'Try for yourself, if that be your spirit: I
have done, and yield the argument to your saucy insolence.'--

'And I must suffer for her egotism!' she sobbed, as Mrs. Linton left the
room.  'All, all is against me: she has blighted my single consolation.
But she uttered falsehoods, didn't she?  Mr. Heathcliff is not a fiend:
he has an honourable soul, and a true one, or how could he remember her?'

'Banish him from your thoughts, Miss,' I said.  'He's a bird of bad omen:
no mate for you.  Mrs. Linton spoke strongly, and yet I can't contradict
her.  She is better acquainted with his heart than I, or any one besides;
and she never would represent him as worse than he is.  Honest people
don't hide their deeds.  How has he been living? how has he got rich? why
is he staying at Wuthering Heights, the house of a man whom he abhors?
They say Mr. Earnshaw is worse and worse since he came.  They sit up all
night together continually, and Hindley has been borrowing money on his
land, and does nothing but play and drink: I heard only a week ago--it
was Joseph who told me--I met him at Gimmerton: "Nelly," he said, "we's
hae a crowner's 'quest enow, at ahr folks'.  One on 'em 's a'most getten
his finger cut off wi' hauding t' other fro' stickin' hisseln loike a
cawlf.  That's maister, yeah knaw, 'at 's soa up o' going tuh t' grand
'sizes.  He's noan feared o' t' bench o' judges, norther Paul, nur Peter,
nur John, nur Matthew, nor noan on 'em, not he!  He fair likes--he langs
to set his brazened face agean 'em!  And yon bonny lad Heathcliff, yah
mind, he's a rare 'un.  He can girn a laugh as well 's onybody at a
raight divil's jest.  Does he niver say nowt of his fine living amang us,
when he goes to t' Grange?  This is t' way on 't:--up at sun-down: dice,
brandy, cloised shutters, und can'le-light till next day at noon: then,
t'fooil gangs banning und raving to his cham'er, makking dacent fowks dig
thur fingers i' thur lugs fur varry shame; un' the knave, why he can
caint his brass, un' ate, un' sleep, un' off to his neighbour's to gossip
wi' t' wife.  I' course, he tells Dame Catherine how her fathur's goold
runs into his pocket, and her fathur's son gallops down t' broad road,
while he flees afore to oppen t' pikes!"  Now, Miss Linton, Joseph is an
old rascal, but no liar; and, if his account of Heathcliff's conduct be
true, you would never think of desiring such a husband, would you?'

'You are leagued with the rest, Ellen!' she replied.  'I'll not listen to
your slanders.  What malevolence you must have to wish to convince me
that there is no happiness in the world!'

Whether she would have got over this fancy if left to herself, or
persevered in nursing it perpetually, I cannot say: she had little time
to reflect.  The day after, there was a justice-meeting at the next town;
my master was obliged to attend; and Mr. Heathcliff, aware of his
absence, called rather earlier than usual.  Catherine and Isabella were
sitting in the library, on hostile terms, but silent: the latter alarmed
at her recent indiscretion, and the disclosure she had made of her secret
feelings in a transient fit of passion; the former, on mature
consideration, really offended with her companion; and, if she laughed
again at her pertness, inclined to make it no laughing matter to her.  She
did laugh as she saw Heathcliff pass the window.  I was sweeping the
hearth, and I noticed a mischievous smile on her lips.  Isabella,
absorbed in her meditations, or a book, remained till the door opened;
and it was too late to attempt an escape, which she would gladly have
done had it been practicable.

'Come in, that's right!' exclaimed the mistress, gaily, pulling a chair
to the fire.  'Here are two people sadly in need of a third to thaw the
ice between them; and you are the very one we should both of us choose.
Heathcliff, I'm proud to show you, at last, somebody that dotes on you
more than myself.  I expect you to feel flattered.  Nay, it's not Nelly;
don't look at her!  My poor little sister-in-law is breaking her heart by
mere contemplation of your physical and moral beauty.  It lies in your
own power to be Edgar's brother!  No, no, Isabella, you sha'n't run off,'
she continued, arresting, with feigned playfulness, the confounded girl,
who had risen indignantly.  'We were quarrelling like cats about you,
Heathcliff; and I was fairly beaten in protestations of devotion and
admiration: and, moreover, I was informed that if I would but have the
manners to stand aside, my rival, as she will have herself to be, would
shoot a shaft into your soul that would fix you for ever, and send my
image into eternal oblivion!'

'Catherine!' said Isabella, calling up her dignity, and disdaining to
struggle from the tight grasp that held her, 'I'd thank you to adhere to
the truth and not slander me, even in joke!  Mr. Heathcliff, be kind
enough to bid this friend of yours release me: she forgets that you and I
are not intimate acquaintances; and what amuses her is painful to me
beyond expression.'

As the guest answered nothing, but took his seat, and looked thoroughly
indifferent what sentiments she cherished concerning him, she turned and
whispered an earnest appeal for liberty to her tormentor.

'By no means!' cried Mrs. Linton in answer.  'I won't be named a dog in
the manger again.  You _shall_ stay: now then!  Heathcliff, why don't you
evince satisfaction at my pleasant news?  Isabella swears that the love
Edgar has for me is nothing to that she entertains for you.  I'm sure she
made some speech of the kind; did she not, Ellen?  And she has fasted
ever since the day before yesterday's walk, from sorrow and rage that I
despatched her out of your society under the idea of its being
unacceptable.'

'I think you belie her,' said Heathcliff, twisting his chair to face
them.  'She wishes to be out of my society now, at any rate!'

And he stared hard at the object of discourse, as one might do at a
strange repulsive animal: a centipede from the Indies, for instance,
which curiosity leads one to examine in spite of the aversion it raises.
The poor thing couldn't bear that; she grew white and red in rapid
succession, and, while tears beaded her lashes, bent the strength of her
small fingers to loosen the firm clutch of Catherine; and perceiving that
as fast as she raised one finger off her arm another closed down, and she
could not remove the whole together, she began to make use of her nails;
and their sharpness presently ornamented the detainer's with crescents of
red.

'There's a tigress!' exclaimed Mrs. Linton, setting her free, and shaking
her hand with pain.  'Begone, for God's sake, and hide your vixen face!
How foolish to reveal those talons to him.  Can't you fancy the
conclusions he'll draw?  Look, Heathcliff! they are instruments that will
do execution--you must beware of your eyes.'

'I'd wrench them off her fingers, if they ever menaced me,' he answered,
brutally, when the door had closed after her.  'But what did you mean by
teasing the creature in that manner, Cathy?  You were not speaking the
truth, were you?'

'I assure you I was,' she returned.  'She has been dying for your sake
several weeks, and raving about you this morning, and pouring forth a
deluge of abuse, because I represented your failings in a plain light,
for the purpose of mitigating her adoration.  But don't notice it
further: I wished to punish her sauciness, that's all.  I like her too
well, my dear Heathcliff, to let you absolutely seize and devour her up.'

'And I like her too ill to attempt it,' said he, 'except in a very
ghoulish fashion.  You'd hear of odd things if I lived alone with that
mawkish, waxen face: the most ordinary would be painting on its white the
colours of the rainbow, and turning the blue eyes black, every day or
two: they detestably resemble Linton's.'

'Delectably!' observed Catherine.  'They are dove's eyes--angel's!'

'She's her brother's heir, is she not?' he asked, after a brief silence.

'I should be sorry to think so,' returned his companion.  'Half a dozen
nephews shall erase her title, please heaven!  Abstract your mind from
the subject at present: you are too prone to covet your neighbour's
goods; remember _this_ neighbour's goods are mine.'

'If they were _mine_, they would be none the less that,' said Heathcliff;
'but though Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcely mad; and, in
short, we'll dismiss the matter, as you advise.'

From their tongues they did dismiss it; and Catherine, probably, from her
thoughts.  The other, I felt certain, recalled it often in the course of
the evening.  I saw him smile to himself--grin rather--and lapse into
ominous musing whenever Mrs. Linton had occasion to be absent from the
apartment.

I determined to watch his movements.  My heart invariably cleaved to the
master's, in preference to Catherine's side: with reason I imagined, for
he was kind, and trustful, and honourable; and she--she could not be
called _opposite_, yet she seemed to allow herself such wide latitude,
that I had little faith in her principles, and still less sympathy for
her feelings.  I wanted something to happen which might have the effect
of freeing both Wuthering Heights and the Grange of Mr. Heathcliff
quietly; leaving us as we had been prior to his advent.  His visits were
a continual nightmare to me; and, I suspected, to my master also.  His
abode at the Heights was an oppression past explaining.  I felt that God
had forsaken the stray sheep there to its own wicked wanderings, and an
evil beast prowled between it and the fold, waiting his time to spring
and destroy.

 Hindley's wife, Frances, is suffering from consumption and she is also pregnant. Soon after giving birth to Hareton, she dies, and Nelly is expected to bring up the baby. The death of his wife causes Hindley to become even more dominant, which causes all the servants to leave except Nelly and Joseph. Hindley treats Heathcliff more cruelly, who secretly delights in Hindley's misfortune. At this time Cathy has almost a split personality, being wild and free when with Heathcliff, and a demure young lady when with the Lintons. Heathcliff becomes jealous about the amount of time Cathy is spending with Edgar and decides to confront her with this. Cathy responds by belittling him. Nelly insists on being a chaperone to Cathy and Edgar, which greatly annoys Cathy. On one occasion, Cathy pinches Nelly in order to try and get her to leave. Edgar tries to intervene, and Cathy slaps him about his ears. This is the first time that he witnesses Cathy's wild temper. Meanwhile, Hindley more and more drowns his sorrow with alcohol. During one such episode, he accidentally drops Hareton over the banister, and fortunately Heathcliff is there to catch the baby. Heathcliff overhears a conversation between Cathy and Nelly. Cathy states that she could never marry Heathcliff, as this would degrade her. This is not only because Heathcliff appears rough and coarse, but also because he allows Hindley to bring him down low. Heathcliff is upset at these words from Cathy and decides to leave Wuthering Heights before he has heard the rest of the conversation. Cathy feels she must marry Edgar because she would then become a lady of high standing in the area. Cathy goes on to tell Nelly that she loves Heathcliff more deeply than anything else in the world. They are so alike at heart that they are essentially the same person, the same soul. On the night of his disappearance Cathy had spent the time looking for him in the rain. As a result she came down with a bad chill, which led to a fever from which she almost died. Once again, she recuperated at the Grange. Unfortunately, both Mr. and Mrs. Linton catch the fever and die. Three years after his parents' deaths, Edgar marries Cathy, and Nelly leaves Wuthering Heights and Hareton and moves to Thrushcross Grange. She is forced to do this by both Edgar and Hindley. Six months later, Heathcliff suddenly appears and arrives at the Grange. Nelly to Edgar, Cathy being in the kitchen, introduces him. On learning of Heathcliff's arrival, Cathy is excited. It is clear that Cathy and Heathcliff still love each other. Heathcliff surprises those present by saying that he is staying at Wuthering Heights. There is much coming and going between the two houses and Isabella becomes infatuated with Heathcliff. Heathcliff does not reciprocate her feelings, but is only interested in becoming the heir to Thrushcross Grange. This can be achieved by marriage to Isabella.

