Wuthering Heights

by Emily Brontë

  CHAPTER IV

  What vain weathercocks we are! I, who had determined to hold myselfindependent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, atlength, I had lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable--I,weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits andsolitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours; and under pretenceof gaining information concerning the necessities of my establishment, Idesired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ateit; hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and either rouseme to animation or lull me to sleep by her talk.

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

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

  'Indeed.'

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

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

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

  'Oh, I'll turn the talk on my landlord's family!' I thought to myself. 'Agood subject to start! And that pretty girl-widow, I should like to knowher history: whether she be a native of the country, or, as is moreprobable, an exotic that the surly _indigenae_ will not recognise forkin.' With this intention I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff letThrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation and residence somuch inferior. 'Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?'I inquired.

  'Rich, sir!' she returned. 'He has nobody knows what money, and everyyear it increases. Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer housethan this: but he's very near--close-handed; and, if he had meant to flitto Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenant he could nothave borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It isstrange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!'

  'He had a son, it seems?'

  'Yes, he had one--he is dead.'

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

  'Yes.'

  'Where did she come from originally?'

  'Why, sir, she is my late master's daughter: Catherine Linton was hermaiden name. I nursed her, poor thing! I did wish Mr. Heathcliff wouldremove here, and then we might have been together again.'

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

  'It was.'

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

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

  'The young lady's cousin, then?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'It's a cuckoo's, sir--I know all about it: except where he was born, andwho were his parents, and how he got his money at first. And Hareton hasbeen cast out like an unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate lad is the onlyone in all this parish that does not guess how he has been cheated.'

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

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

  The worthy woman bustled off, and I crouched nearer the fire; my headfelt hot, and the rest of me chill: moreover, I was excited, almost to apitch of foolishness, through my nerves and brain. This caused me tofeel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful (as I am still) of seriouseffects from the incidents of to-day and yesterday. She returnedpresently, bringing a smoking basin and a basket of work; and, havingplaced the former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently pleased to findme so companionable.

  Before I came to live here, she commenced--waiting no farther invitationto her story--I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my motherhad nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father, and I gotused to playing with the children: I ran errands too, and helped to makehay, and hung about the farm ready for anything that anybody would set meto. One fine summer morning--it was the beginning of harvest, Iremember--Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came down-stairs, dressed for ajourney; and, after he had told Joseph what was to be done during theday, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me--for I sat eating myporridge with them--and he said, speaking to his son, 'Now, my bonny man,I'm going to Liverpool to-day, what shall I bring you? You may choosewhat you like: only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back:sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!' Hindley named a fiddle, andthen he asked Miss Cathy; she was hardly six years old, but she couldride any horse in the stable, and she chose a whip. He did not forgetme; for he had a kind heart, though he was rather severe sometimes. Hepromised to bring me a pocketful of apples and pears, and then he kissedhis children, said good-bye, and set off.

  It seemed a long while to us all--the three days of his absence--andoften did little Cathy ask when he would be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expectedhim by supper-time on the third evening, and she put the meal off hourafter hour; there were no signs of his coming, however, and at last thechildren got tired of running down to the gate to look. Then it grewdark; she would have had them to bed, but they begged sadly to be allowedto stay up; and, just about eleven o'clock, the door-latch was raisedquietly, and in stepped the master. He threw himself into a chair,laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for he was nearlykilled--he would not have such another walk for the three kingdoms.

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

  We crowded round, and over Miss Cathy's head I had a peep at a dirty,ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk: indeed, itsface looked older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its feet, itonly stared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish thatnobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was readyto fling it out of doors: she did fly up, asking how he could fashion tobring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns tofeed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether he were mad?The master tried to explain the matter; but he was really half dead withfatigue, and all that I could make out, amongst her scolding, was a taleof his seeing it starving, and houseless, and as good as dumb, in thestreets of Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner.Not a soul knew to whom it belonged, he said; and his money and timebeing both limited, he thought it better to take it home with him atonce, than run into vain expenses there: because he was determined hewould not leave it as he found it. Well, the conclusion was, that mymistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr.
Earnshaw told me to wash it, andgive it clean things, and let it sleep with the children.

  Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening tillpeace was restored: then, both began searching their father's pocketsfor the presents he had promised them. The former was a boy of fourteen,but when he drew out what had been a fiddle, crushed to morsels in thegreat-coat, he blubbered aloud; and Cathy, when she learned the masterhad lost her whip in attending on the stranger, showed her humour bygrinning and spitting at the stupid little thing; earning for her painsa sound blow from her father, to teach her cleaner manners. Theyentirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room; andI had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping itmight be gone on the morrow. By chance, or else attracted by hearing hisvoice, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw's door, and there he found it onquitting his chamber. Inquiries were made as to how it got there; I wasobliged to confess, and in recompense for my cowardice and inhumanitywas sent out of the house.

  This was Heathcliff's first introduction to the family. On coming back afew days afterwards (for I did not consider my banishment perpetual), Ifound they had christened him 'Heathcliff': it was the name of a son whodied in childhood, and it has served him ever since, both for Christianand surname. Miss Cathy and he were now very thick; but Hindley hatedhim: and to say the truth I did the same; and we plagued and went on withhim shamefully: for I wasn't reasonable enough to feel my injustice, andthe mistress never put in a word on his behalf when she saw him wronged.

  He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment:he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear, and mypinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes, as if hehad hurt himself by accident, and nobody was to blame. This endurancemade old Earnshaw furious, when he discovered his son persecuting thepoor fatherless child, as he called him. He took to Heathcliffstrangely, believing all he said (for that matter, he said preciouslittle, and generally the truth), and petting him up far above Cathy, whowas too mischievous and wayward for a favourite.

  So, from the very beginning, he bred bad feeling in the house; and atMrs. Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years after, theyoung master had learned to regard his father as an oppressor rather thana friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's affections and hisprivileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries. Isympathised a while; but when the children fell ill of the measles, and Ihad to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at once, I changedmy idea. Heathcliff was dangerously sick; and while he lay at the worsthe would have me constantly by his pillow: I suppose he felt I did a gooddeal for him, and he hadn't wit to guess that I was compelled to do it.However, I will say this, he was the quietest child that ever nursewatched over. The difference between him and the others forced me to beless partial. Cathy and her brother harassed me terribly: he was asuncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not gentleness, made him givelittle trouble.

  He got through, and the doctor affirmed it was in a great measure owingto me, and praised me for my care. I was vain of his commendations, andsoftened towards the being by whose means I earned them, and thus Hindleylost his last ally: still I couldn't dote on Heathcliff, and I wonderedoften what my master saw to admire so much in the sullen boy; who never,to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of gratitude. Hewas not insolent to his benefactor, he was simply insensible; thoughknowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart, and conscious he had onlyto speak and all the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes. As aninstance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw once bought a couple of colts at theparish fair, and gave the lads each one. Heathcliff took the handsomest,but it soon fell lame, and when he discovered it, he said to Hindley--

  'You must exchange horses with me: I don't like mine; and if you won't Ishall tell your father of the three thrashings you've given me this week,and show him my arm, which is black to the shoulder.' Hindley put outhis tongue, and cuffed him over the ears. 'You'd better do it at once,'he persisted, escaping to the porch (they were in the stable): 'you willhave to: and if I speak of these blows, you'll get them again withinterest.' 'Off, dog!' cried Hindley, threatening him with an ironweight used for weighing potatoes and hay. 'Throw it,' he replied,standing still, 'and then I'll tell how you boasted that you would turnme out of doors as soon as he died, and see whether he will not turn youout directly.' Hindley threw it, hitting him on the breast, and down hefell, but staggered up immediately, breathless and white; and, had not Iprevented it, he would have gone just so to the master, and got fullrevenge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating who had causedit. 'Take my colt, Gipsy, then!' said young Earnshaw. 'And I pray thathe may break your neck: take him, and be damned, you beggarly interloper!and wheedle my father out of all he has: only afterwards show him whatyou are, imp of Satan.--And take that, I hope he'll kick out yourbrains!'

  Heathcliff had gone to loose the beast, and shift it to his own stall; hewas passing behind it, when Hindley finished his speech by knocking himunder its feet, and without stopping to examine whether his hopes werefulfilled, ran away as fast as he could. I was surprised to witness howcoolly the child gathered himself up, and went on with his intention;exchanging saddles and all, and then sitting down on a bundle of hay toovercome the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, before he enteredthe house. I persuaded him easily to let me lay the blame of his bruiseson the horse: he minded little what tale was told since he had what hewanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of such stirs as these, that Ireally thought him not vindictive: I was deceived completely, as you willhear.