CHAPTER 9
Hindley entered, swearing oaths dreadful to hear; and caught me in the act of stowing his son away in the kitchen cupboard. Hareton had a wholesome terror of both his father’s wild fondness and his madman’s rage; for in one he ran a chance of being squeezed 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 put him.
‘There, I’ve found it out at last!’ cried Hindley, pulling me back. ‘By heaven and hell, you’ve sworn to murder that child! Now I know why he is always out of my way. I shall make you swallow the carving-knife, Nelly! You needn’t laugh.’
‘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. Open your mouth!’ He pushed the point of the knife between my teeth: but I was never much afraid of him. I spat it out, and said 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 is, he deserves flaying alive for not running to welcome me, and for screaming as if I were a goblin. Unnatural cub, come here! I’ll teach you to impose on a good-hearted father. Now, don’t you think the lad would be handsomer cropped? Get me some scissors – it’s a devilish conceit, to cherish our ears – we’re asses enough without them. Hush, child, hush! Dry thy eyes – kiss me. What! it won’t? Kiss me, Hareton! Damn thee, kiss me! By God, what a monster! I’ll break the brat’s neck.’
Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father’s arms, and redoubled his yells when Hindley carried him upstairs and lifted him over the banister. I cried out, and ran up to rescue him. Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a footstep below; almost forgetting what he had in his hands.
‘Who is that?’ he asked. Just then Hareton gave a sudden spring, freed himself from his father’s careless grasp, and fell.
There was scarcely time for a thrill of horror before we saw that he was safe. The footsteps below were Heathcliff’s: arriving just at the critical moment, by instinct he caught Hareton, and setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the cause of the accident.
A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket for five shillings, and finds next day he has lost five thousand pounds, could not show a blanker face than he did on seeing Mr. Earnshaw above. It expressed intense anguish at having thwarted 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 were watching. I pressed my precious charge to my heart. Hindley descended, sobered and abashed.
‘It is your fault, Ellen,’ he said; ‘you should have kept him out of my sight! Is he injured?’
‘Injured!’ I cried angrily; ‘I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave. You’re worse than a heathen – treating your own child in that manner!’ He attempted to touch the child, who shrieked louder than ever and struggled.
‘You shall not meddle with him!’ I continued. ‘He hates you – they all hate you! A happy family you have; and a pretty state you’re come to!’
‘I shall come to a prettier, yet, Nelly,’ laughed Hindley, recovering his hardness. ‘Take him away. Heathcliff, you leave me too. I won’t murder you tonight; unless, perhaps, I set the house on fire.’
Saying this, he took a bottle of brandy from the dresser, and poured some into a tumbler. He drank, and ordered us, with many oaths, to go.
‘It’s a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,’ observed Heathcliff, when the door was shut. ‘He’s doing his best; but he’s too strong. Dr. Kenneth says he’ll outlive any man on this side of Gimmerton.’
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 of the settle, then flung himself on a bench by the wall and remained silent.
I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and singing, 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, seeming anxious and disturbed. ‘Where’s Heathcliff?’ she said.
‘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 tears trickle down Catherine’s cheek.
‘Oh, dear!’ she cried at last. ‘I’m very unhappy!’
‘You’re hard to please,’ I observed; ‘so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content!’
‘Nelly, will you keep a secret?’ She knelt down by me, lifting her lovely eyes to my face with an appealing look.
‘Is it worth keeping?’
‘Yes, and it worries me, and I must let it out! I want to know what I should do. Today, Edgar Linton asked me to marry him, and I’ve given him an answer. Now, before I tell you whether it was yes or no, you tell me which it ought to have been.’
‘Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?’ I replied. ‘I might say it would be wise to refuse him: since he asked you after that exhibition this afternoon, he must be a fool.’
‘If you talk so, I won’t tell you any more,’ she returned, peevishly rising to her feet. ‘I accepted him, Nelly. Was I wrong?’
‘You accepted him! Then what good is it discussing the matter?’
‘But should I should have done so?’ she exclaimed, frowning.
‘Do you love Mr. Edgar?’
‘Who can help it? Of course I do,’ she answered.
‘Why?’
‘I do – that’s sufficient.’
‘You must say why.’
‘Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.’
‘Bad!’ I commented.
‘And because he is young and cheerful.’
‘Bad, still.’
‘And because he loves me.’
‘Indifferent.’
‘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.’
‘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!’
‘You love Mr. Edgar because he is handsome, and young, and cheerful, and rich, and loves you,’ I answered. ‘The last, however, goes for nothing: you wouldn’t love him unless he possessed the first four attractions.’
‘No: I should pity him – hate him, perhaps.’
‘But there are other handsome, rich young men in the world.’
‘I don’t know them. 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.’
‘Well, that settles it: if you have only to do with the present, marry Mr. Linton.’
‘I don’t want your permission,’ she said. ‘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; Edgar’s parents will not object; you will escape from a disorderly 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 my soul and in my heart, I’m convinced I’m wrong!’
‘That’s very strange!’
‘If you will not mock me, I’ll try to explain it.’ Her face grew sadder an
d graver, and her clasped hands trembled.
‘Nelly, do you ever dream queer dreams?’ she said, after some minutes. ‘I’ve had 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.’
‘Oh! don’t, Miss Catherine!’ I cried. ‘We’re dismal enough without conjuring up ghosts and visions. I won’t hear it!’ I was superstitious about dreams.
Catherine was vexed, but she did not go on. Instead she said,
‘If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be miserable.’
‘Because you are not fit to go there,’ I answered. ‘All sinners would be miserable in heaven.’
‘That’s not why. I dreamt once that I was there.’
‘I tell you I won’t listen to your dreams, Miss Catherine! I’ll go to bed,’ I interrupted.
‘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. I’ve no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if Hindley 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: 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.’
Before this speech ended I became aware of Heathcliff’s presence. Noticing a movement, I turned my head, and saw him 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. She did not notice his departure; but I bade her hush!
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Joseph is here,’ I answered, opportunely hearing his cartwheels up the road; ‘and Heathcliff will come in with him. I’m not sure whether he were not at the door just now.’
‘Oh, he couldn’t overhear me at the door!’ said she. ‘Heathcliff has no notion of these things, 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! If 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 deserted?’
‘We separated!’ she exclaimed, indignantly. ‘Who is to separate us, pray? Not as long as I live, Ellen! I shouldn’t be Mrs. Linton were such a price demanded! Heathcliff will be as much to me as ever. Edgar must and will tolerate him. Nelly, I see you think me a selfish wretch; but if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars – whereas, if I marry Linton I can help Heathcliff to rise.’
‘With your husband’s money, Miss Catherine?’ I asked. ‘That’s the worst motive you’ve given yet for marrying young Linton.’
‘It is not,’ retorted she; ‘it is the best and least selfish! It is for the sake of one who embodies all my feelings. I cannot express it; but what were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff’s miseries: 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.’
She hid her face in the folds of my gown; but I jerked it away, out of patience with her folly.
‘If I can make any sense of your nonsense, Miss,’ I said, ‘it only convinces me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake in marrying; or else that you are a wicked girl. But tell me no more secrets: I’ll not promise to keep them.’
Joseph’s entrance finished our conversation. I made the supper, and quarrelled with Joseph about who should carry some to Mr. Hindley. We agreed that we would let him ask, if he wanted any; for we feared to go into his presence.
‘And why isn’t that nowt come in from th’ field, by this time? What is he about? great idle thing!’ demanded the old man, looking round for Heathcliff.
‘I’ll call him,’ I replied. ‘He’s in the barn, no doubt.’
I went and called, but got no answer. On returning, I whispered to Catherine that he had heard much of what she said, I was sure; and told how I saw him leave the kitchen just as she complained of her brother’s conduct. She jumped up in a fright, and ran to seek for Heathcliff herself.
She was absent such a while that Joseph proposed we should wait no longer for supper. He was saying an endless grace before eating when his young mistress broke in upon him with a hurried command that he must run down the road, find Heathcliff, and make him return directly!
‘I must speak to him,’ she said. ‘And the gate is open.’
Joseph walked out, grumbling. Meantime, Catherine paced up and down, exclaiming, ‘I wonder where he is! What did I say, Nelly? I’ve forgotten. Was he vexed at my bad humour? I do wish he’d come. I do wish he would!’
‘What a noise for nothing!’ I cried, though rather uneasy myself. ‘It’s surely no great cause of alarm that Heathcliff should take a moonlight saunter on the moors, or even hide in the hay-loft. I’ll ferret him out!’
I departed, but my search resulted in disappointment, and Joseph’s quest ended the same way.
‘Yon lad gets worse and worse!’ he said. ‘He’s left t’ gate swinging, and Miss’s pony has trodden down t’ corn. The master’ll play t’ devil tomorrow!’
‘Have you found Heathcliff?’ demanded Catherine. ‘Have you been looking for him?’
‘I can look for nobody on a night like this,’ he replied, ‘as black as t’ chimney!’
It was a very dark evening: and appeared inclined to thunder. I said the approaching rain would be certain to bring him home.
However, Catherine would not be persuaded. She kept wandering to the door, in a state of agitation; and at length stood near the road: where, heedless of the growling thunder, and the great drops of rain, she remained, calling, and then listening, and then crying passionately.
About midnight, the storm came rattling over the Heights in full fury. There was a violent wind: a huge bough fell across the roof, and knocked down part of the east chimney-stack, sending a clatter of stones and soot into the kitchen-fire. We thought a lightning-bolt had fallen on us; and Joseph fell on to his knees, beseeching the Lord to spare the righteous. I felt as if it must be a judgment on us. The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr. Earnshaw; and I shook the handle of his room to see if he were yet living. He replied with curses.
But the uproar passed away, leaving us all unharmed; excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched by standing shawl-less. She came in and lay down on the settle, all soaked as she was, and turned her face away.
‘Well, Miss!’ I exclaimed, touching her shoulder. ‘Do you know what o’clock it is? Half-past twelve. Come to bed! there’s no use waiting any longer on that foolish boy: he’ll be gone to Gimmerton.’
After vainly begging the wilful girl to rise and remove her wet things, I left her shivering, and took myself to bed with little Hareton.
Coming down later than usual, I saw Miss Catherine still seated near the fireplace. The door was ajar; Hindley 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 yo
u 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 soaked yesterday evening, and there she has sat the night through.’
Mr. Earnshaw stared in surprise. ‘What kept her up? not the thunder, surely?’
Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff’s absence; so I replied, I didn’t know; and she said nothing.
The morning was fresh and cool. I threw open the window, and the room filled with sweet scents from the garden; but Catherine called peevishly, ‘Ellen, shut the window. I’m freezing!’ And her teeth chattered as she shrank closer to the fire.
‘She’s ill,’ said Hindley; ‘Damn it! I don’t want more sickness here. What took you into the rain?’
‘Running after t’ lads, as usual!’ croaked Joseph. ‘Whenever you’re out, yon Linton comes sneaking here; and Miss Nelly, she’s a fine lass! she sits watching for ye; and as you’re in at one door, he’s out at t’other. And our grand lady’s lurking among t’ fields, after midnight, wi’ that foul devil of a gipsy, Heathcliff! They think I’m blind; but I’m not!’
‘Silence, eavesdropper!’ cried Catherine. ‘Edgar Linton came yesterday by chance, Hindley; and it was I who told him to be off.’
‘You lie, Cathy, no doubt,’ answered her brother, ‘and you are a simpleton! But never mind Linton: tell me, were you not with Heathcliff last night? Speak the truth, now.’
‘I never saw Heathcliff last night,’ answered Catherine, beginning to sob bitterly: ‘perhaps he’s gone.’ She burst into uncontrollable grief.
Hindley abused her scornfully, bidding her get to her room, or she shouldn’t cry for nothing! I made her obey; and I shall never forget what a scene she acted in her chamber: it terrified me. I thought she was going mad, and I begged Joseph to run for the doctor.
It proved the start of delirium. Dr. Kenneth, as soon as he saw her, pronounced her dangerously ill with fever. He bled her, and told me to take care she did not throw herself downstairs or out of the window; and then he left.
Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, 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, and scolded and ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent, she insisted on taking her to Thrushcross Grange: for which we were very grateful. But the poor dame had cause to repent of her kindness: both she and her husband took the fever, and died within a few days of each other.
Our young lady returned to us saucier, more passionate, and haughtier than ever. Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of the thunder-storm; and, one day, when she had provoked me exceedingly, I blamed his disappearance on her.
From that period, for several months, she stopped talking to me, except as to a mere servant. She allowed no-one to contradict her. From her brother she kept aloof; and he allowed her whatever she pleased, and avoided aggravating her fiery temper. He indulged her too much, for he wished to see her bring honour to the family by a marriage with the Lintons. Edgar Linton was infatuated: and believed himself the happiest man alive on the day he led her to Gimmerton Chapel, three years after his father’s death.
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. At first I refused to go, but Edgar offered me good wages; and Hindley ordered me to pack up. He wanted no women in the house, he said; and as to Hareton, the curate should take him in hand.
And so I had to do as I was ordered. I kissed Hareton and said good-bye; and since then he has been a stranger. 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 clock; and was amazed to see that it was half past one. She would not stay a second longer. Now that she is gone to rest, I shall go also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights: Abridged Page 10
