CHAPTER 10
A charming introduction to a hermit’s life! Four weeks’ torture and sickness! Oh, these bleak winds and bitter northern skies, and impassable roads, and slow country surgeons! And oh, this lack of human faces! Worse than all, the doctor tells me that I must not expect to be out of doors till spring!
Mr. Heathcliff honoured me with a call. About seven days ago he sent me a brace of grouse. Scoundrel! He is to blame for my illness; as I had a great mind to tell him. But 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 leeches?
Being too weak to read, I rang Mrs. Dean and asked her to finish her tale. I remembered her hero had run off, and never been heard of for three years; and the heroine was married.
‘Take your seat,’ I said. ‘Draw your knitting out of your pocket – now continue the history of Mr. Heathcliff. Did he go to the Continent, and come back an educated gentleman? or did he escape to America, and fight against the English? or make his fortune on the highways?’
‘He may have done all those, Mr. Lockwood; but I couldn’t say. I don’t know how he gained his money; nor how he raised his mind from its savage ignorance: but I’ll proceed, if you think it will not weary you.’
I took Miss Catherine to Thrushcross Grange (said Mrs. Dean); and she behaved much better than I expected. She seemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton; and even to his sister she showed 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. She stood erect, and the others yielded.
I observed that Mr. Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of angering her. If ever he heard me answer her sharply, he would frown, and spoke sternly to me about my pertness. Since he was a kind master, I learned to be less touchy; and, for half a year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it.
Catherine had seasons of gloom now and then: they were respected by her husband, who thought they were produced by her previous illness. The return of sunshine was welcomed by answering sunshine from him. I believe that they were really in possession of deep and growing happiness.
It ended. Events happened to make each feel that they were not first in the other’s thoughts.
One mellow evening in September, I was coming from the garden with a basket of apples. It was dusk, and the moon looked over the high wall of the court, causing shadows to lurk in the corners. I set my burden by the kitchen-door, and lingered to rest, drawing in the soft, sweet air, when I heard a voice behind me say, ‘Nelly, is that you?’
It was a deep voice, and foreign in tone; yet something in its manner sounded familiar. I turned around fearfully, for I had seen nobody. Something stirred in the porch; and I distinguished a tall man dressed in dark clothes, with dark face and hair.
‘Who can it be?’ I thought.
‘I have waited here an hour,’ he resumed; ‘and the place has been as still as death. I dared not enter. You do not know me? 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 in amazement. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Yes; Heathcliff,’ he replied, glancing up to the windows, which reflected a score of glittering moons, but showed no lights within. ‘Are they at home? Is she here? I want to have one word with her. Go and say some person from Gimmerton desires to see her.’
‘The surprise will put her out of her head!’ I exclaimed. ‘Heathcliff! Have you been for a soldier?’
‘Go and carry my message,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m in hell till you do!’
I entered; and found Mr. and Mrs. Linton in the parlour. They sat together in a window which displayed the wild green park and the valley of Gimmerton, with a long line of mist winding nearly to its top. Wuthering Heights rose above this silvery vapour. All looked wondrously peaceful. I shrank from performing my errand; but I muttered, ‘A person from Gimmerton wishes to see you, ma’am.’
‘Well, close the curtains, Nelly,’ she said; ‘I’ll be back directly.’
She left the apartment; Mr. Edgar inquired, carelessly, who it was.
‘Some one mistress does not expect,’ I replied. ‘That Heathcliff who used to live at Mr. Earnshaw’s.’
‘What! the gipsy?’ he cried.
‘Hush! you must not call him that, master,’ I said. ‘She’d be sadly grieved to hear you. She was nearly heartbroken when he ran off. I guess his return will be a joy to her.’
Catherine flew upstairs, breathless and wild; too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have guessed an awful calamity had happened.
‘Oh, Edgar, Edgar!’ she panted, flinging her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Edgar darling! Heathcliff’s come back!’
‘Well, well,’ cried her husband, crossly, ‘don’t strangle me for that! He never struck me as such a marvellous treasure.’
‘I know you didn’t like him,’ she answered. ‘Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now. Shall I tell him to come up?’
‘Here,’ he said, ‘into the parlour?’
‘Where else?’
He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place.
‘No,” said Mrs. Linton, half angry, half laughing; ‘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 lit elsewhere? I’ll run down to my guest. I’m afraid the joy is too great to be real!’
She was about to dart off again; but Edgar stopped her.
‘Bid him step up,’ he said to 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. He followed me into the presence of the master and mistress, whose flushed cheeks betrayed signs of an argument. But when her friend appeared at the door, she sprang forward, and led him to Linton; and then she seized Linton’s reluctant fingers and crushed them into his.
Now, fully revealed by the candlelight, I was amazed 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 face looked older and more decisive than Mr. Linton’s; and intelligent, with no sign of its former degradation. A half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the eyes full of black fire, but it was subdued; and his manner was dignified: quite without roughness.
My master’s surprise equalled 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, wishes me to receive you cordially; and, of course, I am gratified when anything occurs to please her.’
‘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 eyes fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish. He did not raise his gaze to her often: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but it flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from her look. They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarrassment.
Not so Mr. Edgar: he grew pale with 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 tomorrow!’ 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 t
hree years, and never to think of me!’
‘A little more than you have thought of me,’ he murmured. ‘I heard of your marriage, Cathy; and I decided to have one glimpse of your face; and afterwards to 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. 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 I struggled only for you!’
‘Catherine, please come to the table,’ interrupted Linton, striving to keep his ordinary tone, and a measure of politeness. ‘Mr. Heathcliff will have a long walk, wherever he may lodge to-night; and I’m thirsty.’
Miss Isabella came; then, with the tea poured, I left the room. The meal hardly lasted ten minutes. Catherine could neither eat nor drink. Edgar scarcely swallowed a mouthful. Their guest did not stay more than an hour. I asked him, as he left, if he went to Gimmerton?
‘No, to Wuthering Heights,’ he answered: ‘Mr. Earnshaw invited me, when I called this morning.’
Hindley invited him! I pondered this sentence painfully, after he was gone. Was he coming into the country to work mischief under a cloak? I felt that he had better have stayed away.
About the middle of the night, I was wakened by Mrs. Linton gliding into my chamber.
‘I cannot rest, Ellen,’ she said. ‘Edgar is sulky, because I’m glad of a thing that does not interest him: he is pettish, and said I was cruel and selfish for wishing to talk when he was sick and sleepy. He always contrives to be sick at the least thing! I said a few sentences in praise of Heathcliff, and he began to cry: so I got up and left him.’
‘What use is it praising Heathcliff to him?’ I answered. ‘As lads they did not like each other, and Heathcliff would hate to hear him praised.’
‘But does it not show great weakness?’ said she. ‘I’m never envious of Isabella’s fair hair or her dainty elegance. In a dispute, I yield and call her a darling. It pleases her brother to see us friends, and that pleases me. But they are very much alike: they are spoiled children, and fancy the world was made for them; and though I humour both, I think a smart chastisement might improve them.’
‘You’re mistaken, Mrs. Linton,’ said I. ‘They humour you. They make it their business to foresee all your desires. If you fall out, however, they can be as obstinate as you can.’
She laughed. ‘I have such faith in Linton’s love, that I believe I might kill him, and he wouldn’t retaliate. But he needn’t resort to whining. Instead of melting into tears because I said that Heathcliff was now worthy of anyone’s regard, he ought to have said it himself. He must get used to him. I’m sure Heathcliff behaved excellently!’
‘What do you think of his going to Wuthering Heights?’ I inquired.
‘He said he called there to gather information about me; and Hindley asked him what he had been doing, and 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 asked him to come again in the evening. Hindley is reckless; he doesn’t reflect that perhaps he should mistrust one whom he has injured. But Heathcliff says he has an attachment to the house where we lived together. He means to pay well to lodge at the Heights; and doubtless my brother’s greed will lead him to accept.’
‘Have you no fear of the consequences, Mrs. Linton?’
‘None for Heathcliff,’ she replied: ‘a little for Hindley: but I stand between him and harm. The event of this evening has reconciled me to God and humanity! Oh, I’ve endured very bitter misery, Nelly! If Edgar knew how bitter, he would not be so petulant. It was kindness for him which made me bear it. However, now I can bear anything! 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 her success was obvious the next day. Mr. Linton not only ceased his peevishness (though he seemed still subdued), but he let her take Isabella with her to Wuthering Heights; and Catherine rewarded him with such a summer of sweetness and affection as made the house a paradise for several days.
Heathcliff – Mr. Heathcliff I should say in future – used the liberty of visiting Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first. Catherine wisely moderated her pleasure in receiving him; and he retained a great deal of his boyhood reserve. My master’s uneasiness was lulled, and other matters distracted him for a while.
His new source of trouble sprang from Isabella Linton, who felt a sudden and irresistible attraction towards Heathcliff. She was at that time a charming young lady of eighteen; infantile in manners, though with keen wit, and a keen temper, too.
Her brother, who loved her tenderly, was appalled at her preference. Leaving aside the degradation of an alliance with a nameless man, he understood Heathcliff’s character. He knew that, though Heathcliff’s exterior was altered, his mind was unchanged. And that mind revolted him: he shrank from the idea of giving Isabella to its keeping. He would have recoiled still more had he known that Heathcliff cared nothing for her.
We had all noticed for a while that Miss Linton fretted and pined over something. She grew cross and wearisome. We excused her on the plea of ill-health: she was fading before our eyes. But one day, when she had been peculiarly wayward, rejecting her breakfast, complaining that the servants did not obey her, that she had caught a cold and that we let the parlour fire go out on purpose, and a hundred more frivolous accusations, Mrs. Linton insisted that she should get to bed; and threatened to send for the doctor. Isabella exclaimed that her health was perfect, and that it was only Catherine’s harshness which made her unhappy.
‘When have I been harsh?’ cried the mistress, amazed.
‘Yesterday,’ sobbed Isabella.
‘Yesterday! When?’
‘In our walk along the moor: you told me to ramble where I pleased, while you walked on with Mr. Heathcliff!’
‘And that’s your notion of harshness?’ said Catherine, laughing. ‘I merely thought Heathcliff’s talk would not have entertained you.’
‘Oh, no,’ wept the young lady; ‘you wished me away, because you knew I liked to be there! I wanted to be with—’
‘Well?’ said Catherine.
‘With him: and I won’t be always sent off! You are a dog in the manger, Cathy, and want no one to be loved but yourself!’
‘You are an impertinent little monkey!’ exclaimed Mrs. Linton. ‘But I’ll not believe this idiocy! You cannot consider Heathcliff agreeable! 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. ‘Nelly, help me to convince her of her madness. Tell her what Heathcliff is: a creature without refinement; a wilderness of furze and stone. I’d as soon put that little canary outside on a winter’s day, as recommend you to give your heart to him! Don’t imagine that he conceals kindness beneath a stern exterior! He’s not a rough diamond – a pearl-containing oyster: he’s a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. He’d crush you like a sparrow’s egg, Isabella, if he found you troublesome. Yet he’d be quite capable of marrying your fortune: avarice is becoming his besetting sin.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ said Miss Linton indignantly.
‘Ah! You think I speak from wicked selfishness?’
‘I’m certain you do,’ retorted Isabella.
‘Good!’ cried the other. ‘Try for yourself: I have done.’
‘All is against me!’ sobbed Isabella, as Mrs. Linton left the room. ‘But she lied, didn’t she? Mr. Heathcliff is not a fiend: he has a true soul, 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. How has he got rich? Why is he staying at Wuthering Heights, with a man whom he hates? They say Mr. Earnshaw is worse and
worse since he came. They sit up all night together, and Hindley does nothing but gamble and drink, pouring his gold into Heathcliff’s pocket!’
‘I’ll not listen to your slanders, Ellen!’ she replied.
The next day, my master was out, and Mr. Heathcliff called in his absence. Catherine and Isabella were sitting in the library, on hostile terms. As Heathcliff passed the window, I noticed a mischievous smile on Catherine’s face.
‘Come in!’ she exclaimed gaily. ‘We need someone to thaw the ice between us; and you are the very person. Heathcliff, I’m proud to show you, at last, somebody that dotes on you more than myself. Nay, it’s not Nelly; don’t look at her! My poor little sister-in-law is breaking her heart over you. It lies in your power to be Edgar’s brother! No, no, Isabella, you shan’t run off,’ she continued, grasping her. ‘We were quarrelling like cats about you, Heathcliff; and I was informed that if I would only stand aside, my rival would shoot an arrow into your soul that would fix you for ever!’
‘Catherine!’ said Isabella, with dignity, ‘I’d thank you to keep to the truth and not slander me, even in joke! Mr. Heathcliff, what amuses her is painful to me.’
As the guest answered nothing, but looked thoroughly indifferent, she whispered to Catherine to let her go.
‘By no means!’ cried Mrs. Linton. ‘You shall stay! Heathcliff, why aren’t you pleased? Isabella swears that the love Edgar has for me is nothing to that she has for you.’
Heathcliff stared hard at Isabella, as one might do at a strange repulsive animal. The poor thing couldn’t bear that; she grew white and then red, and, while tears beaded her lashes, bent the strength of her small fingers to loosen Catherine’s clutch. When she could not remove the hand, she began to use her sharp nails.
‘There’s a tigress!’ exclaimed Mrs. Linton, setting her free. ‘Begone, for God’s sake, and hide your vixen face! How foolish to reveal those talons to him!’
‘I’d wrench them off her fingers, if they ever menaced me,’ he answered brutally, when the door had closed after her. ‘But you were not speaking the truth, were you?’
‘I assure you I was,’ returned Catherine. ‘She has been raving about you, and abusing me, because I described your failings. I wished to punish her sauciness, that’s all. I like her too well, my dear Heathcliff, to let you seize and devour her.’
‘And I like her too ill to attempt it,’ said he. ‘You’d hear of odd things if I lived with that mawkish, waxen face: I’d be painting it the colours of the rainbow, and turning the blue eyes black: they detestably resemble Linton’s.’
‘Delectably!’ observed Catherine. ‘They are dove’s eyes – angel’s!’
‘She’s her brother’s heir, is she not?’
‘I should be sorry to think so,’ she returned. ‘Half a dozen nephews shall erase her title, I hope! Keep your mind off the subject: you are too prone to covet your neighbour’s goods; remember this neighbour’s goods are mine.’
They ceased to discuss the matter; but Heathcliff, I felt certain, recalled it often in the course of the evening. I saw him smile ominously to himself whenever Mrs. Linton was absent from the room.
I determined to watch his movements. I felt for my master, for he was kind and honourable – more honourable than Catherine. Heathcliff’s visits were a continual nightmare to me; and, I suspected, to my master also.
And as for Wuthering Heights – I felt that God had forsaken the stray sheep there to its wicked wanderings, and an evil beast prowled between it and the fold, waiting his time to spring and destroy.
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights: Abridged Page 11
