CHAPTER 32
1802 – This September I was invited to shoot on the moors of a friend in the north, and on my journey to his home, I unexpectedly came within fifteen miles of Gimmerton.
A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange. I decided that I might as well pass the night under my own roof as in an inn. Besides, I could spare a day to arrange matters with my landlord, and save myself the trouble of invading the neighbourhood again. I directed my servant to inquire the way to the village; and we managed the distance in some three hours.
I left him there, and went down the valley alone. The grey church looked greyer, and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I noticed a moor-sheep cropping the short turf on the graves. It was sweet, warm weather; in winter nothing more dreary, in summer nothing more divine, than those glens shut in by hills, and those bluff, bold swells of heath.
I reached the Grange before sunset, and knocked for admittance; but the family had retreated into the back, I judged by one thin, blue wreath curling from the kitchen chimney, and they did not hear. I rode into the courtyard. Under the porch sat a girl of nine or ten, and an old woman, smoking a pipe.
‘Is Mrs. Dean within?’ I demanded.
‘Mistress Dean? Nay!’ she answered, ‘she doesn’t live here: she’s up at th’ Heights.’
‘Are you the housekeeper, then?’ I continued. ‘I’m Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge me in? I wish to stay all night.’
‘T’ master!’ she cried in astonishment. ‘Yah should have sent word. There’s nowt dry about t’ place!’
She bustled in, and I entered too; soon seeing that she spoke the truth. I told her I would go out for a walk; and meantime she must try to prepare a corner of a sitting-room for me to sup in, and a bedroom to sleep in. I proposed to go to Wuthering Heights.
‘All well at the Heights?’ I inquired of the woman.
‘Ee, for owt I know!’ she answered, scurrying away.
I would have asked why Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange, but it was impossible; so I turned away, rambling leisurely along, with the glow of a sinking sun behind, and the mild glory of a rising moon in front. Before I arrived in sight of Mr. Heathcliff’s house, all that remained of day was a beamless amber light along the west: but I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon.
The gate yielded to my hand. That is an improvement, I thought. And I noticed another; a fragrance of stocks and wallflowers wafted on the air.
Both doors and windows were open; and yet a fire illumined the chimney. But the main room of Wuthering Heights is so large that the inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing from the fire’s heat; and they sat not far from one of the windows. I could both see and hear them before I entered, and looked and listened in growing curiosity and envy.
‘Con-trary!’ said a voice as sweet as a silver bell. ‘That for the third time, you dunce! I’m not going to tell you again. Recollect, or I’ll pull your hair!’
‘Contrary, then,’ answered another, in deep but softened tones. ‘And now, kiss me, for minding so well.’
‘No, first read it without a single mistake.’
The male speaker began to read: he was a young man, respectably dressed and seated at a table, with a book before him. His handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept wandering from the page to a small white hand over his shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek. Its owner stood behind; her light ringlets blending with his brown locks, as she bent to superintend his studies; and her face – I bit my lip, at having thrown away the chance I might have had of winning such beauty.
The task was done; the pupil claimed a reward, and received at least five kisses, which he generously returned. Then they talked about going out for a walk on the moors. I supposed I should be condemned by Hareton Earnshaw to the lowest pit of Hell if I showed myself just then; so I skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen.
There at the door sat my old friend Nelly Dean, sewing and singing a song; which was interrupted from within by harsh words of scorn.
‘I’d rather have ’em swearing from morn to neeght!’ said Joseph. ‘I cannot open t’ blessed Book, but yah set up them glories to Satan!’
‘Hush, old man,’ retorted Mrs. Dean; ‘read your Bible, and never mind me.’
She was about to start singing again, when I advanced; and she jumped to her feet, crying, ‘Why, bless you, Mr. Lockwood! How could you think of returning in this way? You should have given us notice!’
‘I depart again tomorrow,’ I answered. ‘And why are you here, Mrs. Dean?’
‘Zillah left, and Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come. But, step in, pray! Have you walked from Gimmerton this evening?’
‘From the Grange,’ I replied; ‘I want to finish my business with your master.’
‘What business, sir?’ said Nelly. ‘He’s gone out at present, and won’t return soon.’
‘About the rent,’ I answered.
‘Oh! then it is with Mrs. Heathcliff you must settle,’ she observed; ‘or rather with me. She has not learnt to manage her affairs yet, and I act for her: there’s nobody else.’
I looked surprised.
‘Ah! you have not heard of Heathcliff’s death, I see,’ she continued.
‘Heathcliff dead!’ I exclaimed, astonished. ‘How long ago?’
‘Three months since: but sit down, and let me take your hat, and I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘I never dreamt of his dying! Let me hear how it came to pass. You say you don’t expect the young people back for some time?’
‘No – they like their late rambles. Have a drink of our old ale; it will do you good.’
She hastened to fetch it. I heard Joseph asking whether it ‘weren’t a crying shame that she should have fellers at her time of life?’ She did not retaliate, but re-entered bearing a foaming silver pint. Then she told me the sequel of Heathcliff’s history. He had a ‘queer’ end, as she expressed it.
Mrs. Dean said: I was summoned to Wuthering Heights within a fortnight of your leaving us, and I obeyed joyfully, for Catherine’s sake. I was shocked to see her; she had altered so much. Mr. Heathcliff did not explain why he wanted me; he only said he was tired of seeing Catherine, and that I must make the little parlour my sitting-room, and keep her with me. She seemed pleased at this arrangement; and I smuggled over many books and other articles, thinking that we should get on in tolerable comfort.
This delusion did not last long. Catherine soon grew irritable and restless. For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the garden, and fretted when confined to its narrow bounds; for another, I was forced to leave her frequently, and she complained of loneliness: she preferred quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen to sitting in her solitude. I did not mind their skirmishes: but Hareton was often in the kitchen too, when the master wanted to be by himself.
To start with, she left at Hareton’s approach, or was quiet – while he was sullen and silent – but then she changed, and would not let him alone: commenting on his stupidity and idleness; and wondering how he could sit a whole evening staring into the fire.
‘He’s just like a dog, is he not, Ellen?’ she once observed, ‘or a cart-horse? He does his work, eats his food, and sleeps eternally! What a blank, dreary mind he must have! Do you ever dream, Hareton? And, if you do, what about?’
He would neither speak nor look at her.
‘He’s dreaming now,’ she continued. ‘He twitched his shoulder as Juno does.’
He had not only twitched his shoulder but clenched his fist, as if tempted to use it.
‘I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen,’ she exclaimed. ‘He is afraid I shall laugh at him. Ellen, he began to teach himself to read once; and, because I laughed, he burned his books, and stopped: was he not a fool?’
‘Were not you naughty?’ I said; ‘answer me that.’
‘Perhaps I was,’ she went on; ‘but I did not expect him to be so silly
. Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I’ll try!’
She placed one she had been reading on his hand; he flung it off, and muttered that if she did not give over, he would break her neck.
‘Well, I shall put it here,’ she said. ‘I’m going to bed.’
Then she whispered to me to watch whether he touched it, and departed. But he would not come near it; and so I informed her in the morning, to her great disappointment. I saw she was sorry, and ashamed of frightening him off improving himself.
But she set to work to remedy the injury: while I ironed, she would bring some pleasant book and read it aloud to me. She often paused in an interesting part, and left the book lying about: but Hareton was as obstinate as a mule, and, instead of snatching at her bait, he took to smoking with Joseph; and they sat on each side of the fire, the elder too deaf to understand her nonsense, and the younger doing his best to ignore it. On fine evenings Hareton went shooting, and Catherine yawned and sighed, and teased me, and cried, and said she was tired of living: her life was useless.
Mr. Heathcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had almost banished Earnshaw from his apartment. Owing to an accident in early March, Hareton became for some days a fixture in the kitchen. His gun burst while he was out on the hills; a splinter cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach home. In consequence he was condemned to the fireside, till he recovered. It suited Catherine; at any rate, she spent more time there with me.
On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimmerton fair with some cattle; and I was busy sorting linen in the kitchen. Earnshaw sat, morose as usual, at the chimney corner, and my little mistress was idly drawing pictures on the window-panes, with quick glances of impatience in the direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked, and looked into the fire. I did not pay her much attention, but presently, I heard her begin:
‘I’ve found out, Hareton, that I want – that I’m glad – that I should like you to be my cousin now, if you had not grown so cross to me, and so rough.’
Hareton returned no answer.
‘Hareton, Hareton! do you hear?’ she continued.
‘Get off wi’ ye!’ he growled gruffly.
‘Let me take that pipe,’ she said, ‘you must listen to me; and I can’t speak while those clouds are floating in my face.’
‘Will you go to the devil!’ he exclaimed, ferociously, ‘and let me be!’
‘No,’ she persisted, ‘I won’t: I don’t know how to make you talk to me; and you are determined not to understand. When I call you stupid, I don’t mean that I despise you. Come, you shall take notice of me, Hareton.’
‘I shall have naught to do wi’ you and your mucky pride, and your damned mocking tricks!’ he answered. ‘I’ll go to hell, before I look sideways after you again!’
Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip, and trying to conceal a sob.
‘You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton,’ I interrupted, ‘since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal of good to have her for a companion.’
‘A companion!’ he cried; ‘when she hates me, and does not think me fit to wipe her shoes! Nay, I’ll not be scorned for seeking her good-will any more.’
‘It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!’ wept Cathy, no longer disguising her tears. ‘You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff does, and more.’
‘You’re a damned liar,’ began Earnshaw: ‘why have I made him angry, by taking your part, then, a hundred times? and then you despised me!’
‘I didn’t know you took my part,’ she answered, drying her eyes; ‘and I was miserable and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me. What can I do besides?’
She returned to the hearth, and frankly extended her hand. He scowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine must have known it was stubbornness, and not dislike, that caused this conduct; for she stooped and gave his cheek a gentle kiss. The little rogue thought I had not seen her; but I shook my head reprovingly, and then she blushed and whispered:
‘Well! what should I have done, Ellen? He wouldn’t shake hands: I must show him some way that I like him – that I want to be friends.’
Whether the kiss convinced Hareton, I cannot tell: he was very careful, for some minutes, that his face should not be seen, and when he did raise it, he was sadly puzzled where to turn his eyes.
Catherine busied herself in wrapping a handsome book neatly in paper, and having tied it with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it to ‘Mr. Hareton Earnshaw,’ she asked me to give the present to him.
‘And tell him, if he’ll take it, I’ll come and teach him to read it right,’ she said; ‘and, if he refuses it, I’ll go upstairs, and never tease him again.’
I carried it, and repeated the message; anxiously watched by Catherine. Hareton would not open his fingers, so I laid it on his knee. He did not strike it off, either. Catherine leaned her head and arms on the table, till she heard the slight rustle of the covering being removed; then she quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his face glowed: all his rudeness and surly harshness had deserted him. He could not utter a word, at first, in reply to her murmur.
‘Say you forgive me, Hareton, do. You can make me so happy by speaking that little word.’
He muttered something inaudible.
‘And you’ll be my friend?’ asked Catherine.
‘Nay, you’ll be ashamed of me every day of your life,’ he answered; ‘and I cannot abide it.’
‘So you won’t be my friend?’ she said, smiling as sweet as honey, and creeping close up.
I overheard no further talk, but, on looking round again, I perceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page of the book, that I did not doubt the enemies were now sworn friends.
When Joseph came home, he was perfectly aghast at the sight of Catherine seated next to Hareton, leaning her hand on his shoulder; and confounded at his favourite’s endurance of her closeness. With an immense sigh, he solemnly spread his large Bible on the table, overlaid it with dirty bank-notes from his transactions at the market, and summoned Hareton from his seat.
‘Take these in to t’ master, lad,’ he said, ‘and stay there. This room’s not seemly for us: we must go and seek another.’
‘Come, Catherine,’ I said, ‘we must go out too: I’ve done my ironing. Are you ready?’
She rose unwillingly. ‘Hareton, I’ll leave this book upon the chimney-piece, and I’ll bring some more tomorrow.’
‘Any books that yah leave, I shall take,’ said Joseph.
Cathy threatened that his library should pay for hers; and, smiling as she passed Hareton, went singing upstairs.
The intimacy thus begun grew rapidly. Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no paragon of patience; but with both their minds tending to the same point – one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed – they contrived in the end to reach it.
You see, Mr. Lockwood, it was easy enough to win Mrs. Heathcliff’s heart. But now, I’m glad you did not try. The crown of all my wishes will be the union of those two. I shall envy no one on their wedding day: there won’t be a happier woman than myself in England!
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights: Abridged Page 33
