CHAPTER 20
To stop the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton told me to take the boy to Wuthering Heights early, on Catherine’s pony. ‘Do not tell my daughter where he is gone,’ he said; ‘it is better for her to remain in ignorance, lest she should be anxious to visit the Heights. Tell her Linton’s father sent for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us.’
Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o’clock, and astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling. I told him he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him.
‘My father!’ he cried, in strange perplexity. ‘Mamma never told me I had a father. Where does he live? I’d rather stay with uncle.’
‘He lives just beyond those hills,’ I replied; ‘but you may walk over here when you get hearty. You should be glad to go home, and to see him. You must try to love him, and then he will love you.’
‘But why have I not heard of him before?’ asked Linton. ‘Why didn’t mamma and he live together, as other people do?’
‘He had business to keep him in the north,’ I answered, ‘and your mother’s health required her to reside in the south.’
‘And why didn’t mamma speak to me about him?’ persevered the child. ‘She often talked of uncle. How am I to love papa? I don’t know him.’
‘Oh, all children love their parents,’ I said. ‘Your mother, perhaps, thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you. Let us hurry. It’s a beautiful morning for a ride.’
‘Is the little girl to go with us?’ he demanded.
‘Not now,’ I replied. ‘I shall be your companion.’
Linton sank back on his pillow. ‘I won’t go without uncle,’ he cried, and obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, until I had to call for my master’s help. He was assured that his absence should be short, and that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him; and I invented other promises, equally ill-founded, on the way.
The heather-scented air and the bright sunshine made him less despondent after a while, and he began to ask about his new home.
‘Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant as Thrushcross Grange?’
‘It is not so buried in trees,’ I replied, ‘nor so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is healthier – fresher and drier. You may think the building old and dark at first; but it is a respectable house. And you will have such nice rambles on the moors. Hareton Earnshaw – Miss Cathy’s other cousin – will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather; and your uncle may sometimes join you in a walk.’
‘What is my father like?’ he asked. ‘Is he as young and handsome as uncle?’
‘He’s as young,’ said I; ‘but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether. He’ll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps. But be frank and cordial with him, and he’ll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own.’
‘Black hair and eyes!’ mused Linton. ‘I can’t imagine him. Then I am not like him, am I?’
‘Not much,’ I answered, surveying with regret his white complexion and large languid eyes – his mother’s eyes, but without a trace of her sparkling spirit.
‘How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!’ he murmured.
‘Why, Master Linton,’ said I, ‘three hundred miles is a great distance. Mr. Heathcliff probably meant to come, but never found an opportunity. Don’t question him on the subject: it will disturb him for no good.’
When we halted at the garden-gate, I watched him as he surveyed the carved lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head, as if he disapproved of his new home.
But he had the sense not to complain. I opened the door. The family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing the table. Joseph stood by his master’s chair; and Hareton was preparing for the hayfield.
‘Hallo, Nelly!’ said Mr. Heathcliff, when he saw me. ‘I feared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself. You’ve brought it, have you? Let us see it.’
He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed. Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over their faces.
‘Surely,’ said Joseph after a grave inspection, ‘he’s swopped wi’ ye, Master, an’ yon’s his lass!’
Heathcliff uttered a scornful laugh.
‘God! what a beauty! what a lovely, charming thing!’ he exclaimed. ‘Haven’t they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly? Oh, damn my soul! but that’s worse than I expected – and the devil knows I was not sanguine!’
I told the trembling and bewildered child to enter. He did not understand his father’s speech: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father. But he clung to me, and on Mr. Heathcliff’s bidding him ‘come here’ he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.
‘Tut, tut!’ said Heathcliff, dragging him roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the chin. ‘None of that nonsense! We’re not going to hurt thee, Linton – isn’t that thy name? Thou art thy mother’s child, entirely! Where is my share in thee, puling chicken?’
He took off the boy’s cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls, and felt his slender arms. Meanwhile Linton ceased crying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector.
‘Do you know me?’ asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that the limbs were all equally frail and feeble.
‘No,’ said Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear.
‘You’ve heard of me, I daresay?’
‘No,’ he replied again.
‘No! What a shame of your mother! She was a wicked slut to leave you in ignorance of the sort of father you possessed. Now, don’t wince, and colour up! Though it is something to see you have not white blood. Be a good lad; and I’ll do for you. Nelly, if you be tired you may sit down; if not, get home again.’
‘Well,’ replied I, ‘I hope you’ll be kind to the boy, Mr. Heathcliff, for he’s all the family you have in the wide world, that you will ever know.’
‘I’ll be very kind to him, you needn’t fear,’ he said, laughing. ‘Only nobody else must be kind to him. And, to begin my kindness, Joseph, bring the lad some breakfast. Hareton, you infernal calf, begone to your work.
‘Yes, Nell,’ he added, ‘my son is prospective owner of your place, and I want the triumph of seeing my descendant the lord of their estates; my child hiring their children to till their fathers’ lands. That is the only reason I can endure the whelp. But that is enough: he’s safe with me. I have a room furnished for him handsomely; I’ve engaged a tutor, also, to come three times a week. I’ve ordered Hareton to obey my son: and in fact I’ve arranged everything to set him above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the trouble: I hoped to find him a worthy object of pride; and I’m bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced, whining wretch!’
While he was speaking, Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk-porridge, and placed it before Linton: who stirred it with a look of aversion.
‘I shan’t eat it!’ he said snappishly. ‘Take it away.’
Joseph snatched up the food indignantly. ‘Yon dainty chap says he cannot eat it! His mother were just the same.’
‘Don’t mention his mother to me,’ said Heathcliff angrily. ‘Get him something that he can eat. What is his usual food, Nelly?’
I suggested boiled milk or tea, reflecting that at least Heathcliff saw the need to treat him well.
I slipped out while Linton was engaged in timidly rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog. But as I closed the door, I heard a frantic cry—
‘Don’t leave me! I’ll not stay here!’
I mounted Minny, and urged her to a trot; and so my brief guardianship ended.
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights: Abridged Page 21
