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WUTHERING HEIGHTS by Emily Bronte.  CHAPTER I.

l80l.---I have just returned from a visit to my land-
lord---the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled
with. This is certainly a beautiful country. In all Eng-
land I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situa-
tion so completely removed from the stir of society---a
perfect misanthropist's heaven; and Mr. Heathcliff and
I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation be-
tween us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my
heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes
withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode
up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a
jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I
announced my name.

     "Mr. Heathcliff?" I said.

     A nod was the answer.

     "Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself
the honour of calling as soon as possible after my ar-
rival, to express the hope that I have not incon-
venienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the oc-
cupation of Thrushcross Grange. I heard yesterday you
had had some thoughts------"

     "Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir," he interrupted,
wincing. "I should not allow any one to inconvenience
me, if I could hinder it. Walk in!"

     The "walk in" was uttered with closed teeth, and ex-
pressed the sentiment, "Go to the deuce." Even the gate
over which he leant manifested no sympathizing move-
ment to the words; and I think that circumstance deter-
mined me to accept the invitation. I felt interested in a
man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than
myself.

     When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the bar-
rier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then sul-
lenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we en-
tered the court, "Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse,
and bring up some wine."

     "Here we have the whole establishment of domestics,
I suppose," was the reflection suggested by this com-
pound order. "No wonder the grass grows up between
the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters."

     Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man---very old,
perhaps, though hale and sinewy. "The Lord help us!"
he soliloquized in an undertone of peevish displeasure,
while relieving me of my horse, looking, meantime, in
my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must
have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his
pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected
advent.

     Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's
dwelling, "wuthering" being a significant provincial
adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to

which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure,
bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times,
indeed. One may guess the power of the north wind
blowing over the edge by the excessive slant of a few
stunted firs at the end of the house, and by a range of
gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if
craving alms of the sun. Happily the architect had fore-
sight to build it strong. The narrow windows are deeply
set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jut-
ting stones.

     Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a
quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front,
and especially about the principal door; above which,
among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shame-
less little boys, I detected the date "1500," and the name
"Hareton Earnshaw." I would have made a few com-
ments, and requested a short history of the place from
the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared
to demand my speedy entrance or complete departure,
and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience
previous to inspecting the penetralium.

     One step brought us into the family sitting-room,
without any introductory lobby or passage. They call it
here "the house" pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and
parlour generally. But, I believe, at Wuthering Heights
the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another
quarter---at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues
and a clatter of culinary utensils deep within; and I ob-
served no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking about the

huge fireplace, nor any glitter of copper saucepans and
tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected
splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense
pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tank-
ards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to
the very roof. The latter had never been underdrawn; its
entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, ex-
cept where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and
clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham concealed it.
Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns
and a couple of horse-pistols, and, by way of orna-
ment, three gaudily painted canisters disposed along its
ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs,
high-backed, primitive structures painted green, one or
two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch
under the dresser reposed a huge liver-coloured bitch
pointer surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies,
and other dogs haunted other recesses.

     The apartment and furniture would have been noth-
ing extraordinary as belonging to a homely, northern
farmer with a stubborn countenance and stalwart limbs
set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such
an individual seated in his armchair, his mug of
ale frothing on the round table before him, is to be seen
in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if
you go at the right time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff
forms a singular contrast to his abode and style of liv-
ing. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect. in dress and
manners a gentleman---that is, as much a gentleman as

many a country squire; rather slovenly, perhaps, yet
not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has
an erect and handsome figure, and rather morose.
Possibly, some people might suspect him of a degree
of underbred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within
that tells me it is nothing of the sort. I know, by instinct,
his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays
of feeling, to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He'll
love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a
species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No,
I'm running on too fast. I bestow my own attributes
over liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely
dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way
when he meets a would-be acquaintance to those which
actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is almost pe-
culiar. My dear mother used to say I should never have
a comfortable home, and only last summer I proved
myself perfectly unworthy of one.

     While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea
coast, I was thrown into the company of a most fasci-
nating creature---a real goddess in my eyes, as long as
she took no notice of me. I "never told my love" vocally;
still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have
guessed I was over head and ears. She understood me
at last, and looked a return---the sweetest of all imagina-
ble looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame---
shrank icily into myself, like a snail; at every glance re-
tired colder and farther, till finally the poor innocent
was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed
with confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her

mamma to decamp. By this curious turn of disposition
I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness;
how undeserved I alone can appreciate.

     I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite
that towards which my landlord advanced, and filled
up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the
canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneak-
ing wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled up,
and her white teeth watering for a snatch. My caress
provoked a long, guttural gnarl.

     "You'd better let the dog alone," growled Mr. Heath-
cliff, in unison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a
punch of his foot. "She's not accustomed to be spoiled
---not kept for a pet." Then, striding to a side door, he
shouted again, "Joseph!"

     Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the
cellar, but gave no intimation of ascending; so his
master dived down to him, leaving me vis-a-vis the ruf-
fianly bitch and a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who
shared with her a jealous guardianship over all my
movements. Not anxious to come in contact with their
fangs, I sat still; but, imagining they would scarcely
understand tacit insults, I unfortunately indulged in
winking and making faces at the trio, and some turn of
my physiognomy so irritated madam that she sud-
denly broke into a fury and leapt on my knees. I flung
her back, and hastened to interpose the table between
us. This proceeding roused the whole hive. Half a		
dozen four-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages, is-

sued from hidden dens to the common centre. I felt my
heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and par-
rying off the larger combatants as effectually as I could
with the poker, I was constrained to demand, aloud,
assistance from some of the household in re-establish-
ing peace.

     Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps
with vexatious phlegm. I don't think they moved one
second faster than usual, though the hearth was an ab-
solute tempest of worrying and yelping. Happily, an
inhabitant of the kitchen made more dispatch. A lusty
dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed
cheeks, rushed into the midst of us flourishing a fry-
ing-pan, and used that weapon and her tongue to such
purpose that the storm subsided magically, and she only
remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when
her master entered on the scene.

     "What the devil is the matter?" he asked, eyeing me
in a manner that I could ill endure after this inhospita-
ble treatment.

     "What the devil, indeed!" I muttered. "The herd of
possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in
them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well
leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!"

     "They won't meddle with persons who touch noth-
ing," he remarked, putting the bottle before me, and
restoring the displaced table. "The dogs do right to be
vigilant. Take a glass of wine."

     "No, thank you."

     "Not bitten, are you?"

     "If I had been, I would have set my signet on the
biter."

     Heathcliff's countenance relaxed into a grin.

     "Come, come," he said; "you are flurried, Mr.
Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so ex-
ceedingly rare in this house that I and my dogs, I am
willing to own, hardly know how to receive them. Your
health, sir!"

     I bowed and returned the pledge, beginning to per-
ceive that it would be foolish to sit sulking for the mis-
behaviour of a pack of curs; besides, I felt loath to yield
the fellow further amusement at my expense, since his
humour took that turn. He---probably swayed by pru-
dential consideration of the folly of offending a good
tenant---relaxed a little in the laconic style of chipping
off his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced
what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me
---a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of
my present place of retirement. I found him very intel-
ligent on the topics we touched; and before I went home
I was encouraged so far as to volunteer another visit to-
morrow. He evidently wished no repetition of my in-
trusion. I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing
how sociable I feel myself, compared with him.
CHAPTER II.

Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had
half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead
of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering
Heights. On coming up from dinner, however (N.B.
---I dine between twelve and one o'clock. The house-
keeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with
the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my
request that I might be served at five), on mounting the
stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the
room, I saw a servant girl on her knees surrounded by
brushes and coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust
as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders.
This spectacle drove me back immediately. I took my
hat, and after a four miles' walk, arrived at Heathcliff's
garden gate just in time to escape the first feathery flakes
of a snow-shower.

     On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black
frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb.
Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and
running up the flagged causeway bordered with strag-
gling gooseberry bushes, knocked vainly for admit-
tance, till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.

     "Wretched inmates!" I ejaculated mentally, "you de-
serve perpetual isolation from your species for your
churlish inhospitality. At least, I would not keep my
doors barred in the daytime. I don't care; I will get in!"
So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it ve-

hemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head
from a round window of the barn.

     "What are ye for?" he shouted. "T' maister's down i'
t' fowld. Go round by th' end ot' laith, if ye went to
spake to him."

     "Is there nobody inside to open the door?" I hallooed
responsively.

     "There's nobbut t' missis, and shoo'll not oppen't an
ye mak yer flaysome dins till neeght."

     "Why? Cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?"

     "Nor-ne me! I'll hae no hend wi't," muttered the
head, vanishing.

     The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle
to essay another trial, when a young man without
coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard
behind. He hailed me to follow him; and, after march-
ing through a wash-house, and a paved area containing
a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived
in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was for-
merly received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of
an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood;
and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I
was pleased to observe the "missis," an individual
whose existence I had never previously suspected. I
bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a

seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and
remained motionless and mute.

     "Rough weather!" I remarked. "I'm afraid, Mrs.
Heathcliff, the door must bear the consequence of your
servants' leisure attendance. I had hard work to make
them hear me."

     She never opened her mouth. I stared---she stared
also. At any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, re-
gardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and dis-
agreeable.

     "Sit down," said the young man gruffly. "He'll be in
soon."

     I obeyed, and hemmed, and called the villain Juno,
who deigned, at this second interview, to move the ex-
treme tip of her tail, in token of owning my acquaint-
ance.

     "A beautiful animal!" I commenced again. "Do you
intend parting with the little ones, madam?"
     
     "They are not mine," said the amiable hostess, more
repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied.

     "Ah, your favourites are among these?" I continued,
turning to an obscure cushion full of something like
cats.

     "A strange choice of favourites!" she observed
scornfully.

     Unluckily it was a heap of dead rabbits. I hemmed
once more, and drew closer to the hearth, repeating
my comment on the wildness of the evening.

     "You should not have come out," she said, rising and
reaching from the chimney-piece two of the painted
canisters.

     Her position before was sheltered from the light;
now, I had a distinct view of her whole figure and
countenance. She was slender, and apparently scarcely
past girlhood; an admirable form, and the most exqui-
site little face that I have ever had the pleasure of be-
holding; small features, very fair; flaxen ringlets, or
rather golden, hanging loose on her delicate neck; and
eyes, had they been agreeable in expression, that
would have been irresistible. Fortunately for my suscep-
tible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered be-
tween scorn and a kind of desperation, singularly un-
natural to be detected there. The canisters were almost
out of her reach. I made a motion to aid her. She
turned upon me as a miser might turn if any one at-
tempted to assist him in counting his gold.

     "I don't want your help," she snapped. "I can get
them for myself."

     "I beg your pardon," I hastened to reply.

     "Were you asked to tea?" she demanded, tying an
apron over her neat black frock, and standing with a
spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot.

     "I shall be glad to have a cup," I answered.

     "Were you asked?" she repeated.

      "No," I said, half smiling. "You are the proper per-
son to ask me."

     She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed
her chair in a pet. Her forehead corrugated, and her
red under-lip pushed out, like a child's ready to cry.

     Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his per-
son a decidedly shabby upper garment, and, erecting
himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the
corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some
mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt
whether he were a servant or not. His dress and speech
were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority ob-
servable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff. His thick brown
curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers en-
croached bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were
embrowned like those of a common labourer. Still his
bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed none
of a domestic's assiduity in attending on the lady of the
house. In the absence of clear proofs of his condition, I
deemed it best to abstain from noticing his curious
conduct; and, five minutes afterwards, the entrance of

Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure, from my un-
comfortable state.

     "You see, sir, I am come, according to promise," I
exclaimed, assuming the cheerful; "and I fear I shall be
weather-bound for half an hour, if you can afford me
shelter during that space."

     "Half an hour?" he said, shaking the white flakes
from his clothes. "I wonder you should select the thick
of a snowstorm to ramble about in. Do you know that
you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People fa-
miliar with these moors often miss their road on such
evenings; and I can tell you there is no chance of
a change at present."

     "Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he
might stay at the Grange till morning. Could you spare
me one?"

     "No, I could not."

     "Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own sa-
gacity."

     "Umph!"

     "Are you going to mak th' tea?" demanded he of
the shabby coat, shifting his ferocious gaze from me to
the young lady.

     "Is he to have any?" she asked, appealing to Heath-
cliff.

     "Get it ready, will you?" was the answer, uttered so
savagely that I started. The tone in which the words
were said revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt
inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow. When the
preparations were finished, he invited me with---"Now,
sir, bring forward your chair." And we all, including
the rustic youth, drew round the table, an austere si-
lence prevailing while we discussed our meal.

     I thought, if I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to
make an effort to dispel it. They could not every day sit
so grim and taciturn; and it was impossible, however
ill-tempered they might be, that the universal scowl they
wore was their everyday countenance.

     "It is strange," I began, in the interval of swallowing
one cup of tea and receiving another---"it is strange
how custom can mould our tastes and ideas. Many
could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life
of such complete exile from the world as you spend,
Mr. Heathcliff; yet, I'll venture to say, that surrounded by your
family, and with your amiable lady as the presiding genius over
your home and heart--"

     "My amiable lady!" he interrupted, with an almost diabolical
sneer on his face.  "Where is she--my amiable lady?"

     "Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean."

     "Well, yes--Oh! you would intimate that her spirit has taken
the post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering
Heights, even when her body is gone.  Is that it?"

     Perceiving myself in a blunder, I attempted to correct it.  I might
have seen there was too great a disparity between the ages of the
parties to make it likely that they were man and wife.  One was about
forty, a period of mental vigour at which men seldom cherish 
the delusion of being married for love, by girls:  that dream is reserved
for the solace of our decling years.  The other did not look seventeen.

     Then it flashed upon me--"The clown at my elbow, who is
drinking his tea out of a basin and eating his bread with unwashed 
hands, may be her husband.  Heathcliff, junior, of course.  Here is
the consequence of being buried alive:  she has thrown herself away
upon that boor, from sheer ignorance that better individuals existed!
A sad pity--I must beware how I cause her to regret her choice."

     The last reflection may seem conceited; it was not.  My neighbour
struck me as bordering on repulsive.  I knew, through experience,
that I was tolerably attractive.

     "Mrs. Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law," said Heathcliff, 
corroborating my surmise.  He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her 
direction, a look of hatred, unless he has a most perverse set of
facial muscles that will not, like those of other people, interpret the 
language of his soul.

     "Ah, certainly--I see now; you are the favoured possessor of the 
beneficent fairy," I remarked, turning to my neighbour.

     This was worse than before:  the youth grew crimson, and
clenched his fist with every appearance of a meditated assault.  But
he seemed to recollect himself, presently, and smothered the storm 
in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf, which however, I took care 
not to notice.

     "Unhappy in your conjectures, sir!" observed my host; "we 
neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate
is dead.  I said she was my daughter-in-law, therefore, she must have
married my son."

     "And this young man is--"

     "Not my son, assuredly."

     Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold
a jest to attribute the paternity of that bear to him.
     "My name is Hareton Earnshaw," growled the other;
"and I'd counsel you to respect it!"

     "I've shown no disrespect," was my reply, laughing
internally at the dignity with which he announced him-
self.

     He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return
the stare, for fear I might be tempted either to box his
ears or render my hilarity audible. I began to feel un-
mistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle.
The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more
than neutralized, the glowing physical comforts round
me; and I resolved to be cautious how I ventured under
those rafters a third time.

     The business of eating being concluded, and no one
uttering a word of sociable conversation, I approached
a window to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight I
saw---dark night coming down prematurely, and sky
and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suf-
focating snow.

     "I don't think it possible for me to get home now
without a guide," I could not help exclaiming. "The
roads will be buried already; and, if they were bare, I
could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance."

     "Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn
porch. They'll be covered if left in the fold all night.
And put a plank before them," said Heathcliff.

     "How must I do?" I continued, with rising irritation.

     There was no reply to my question; and on looking
round I saw only Joseph bringing in a pail of porridge
for the dogs, and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning over the fire,
diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches
which had fallen from the chimney-piece as she re-
stored the tea-canister to its place. The former, when he
had deposited his burden, took a critical survey of the
room, and in cracked tones grated out,---

     "Aw wonder how yah can faishion to stand thear i'
idleness un war, when all on 'em's goan out! Bud
yah're a nowt, and it's no use talking; yah'll niver mend
o' yer ill ways, but goa raight to t' divil, like yer mother
afore ye!"

     I imagined for a moment that this piece of eloquence
was addressed to me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped
towards the aged rascal with an intention of kicking
him out of the door. Mrs. Heathcliff, however, checked
me by her answer.

     "You scandalous old hypocrite!" she replied. "Are
you not afraid of being carried away bodily, whenever
you mention the devil's name? I warn you to refrain
from provoking me, or I'll ask your abduction as a spe-
cial favour. Stop! Look here, Joseph," she continued,
taking a long, dark book from a shelf; "I'll show you
how far I've progressed in the black art. I shall soon be
competent to make a clear house of it. The red cow
didn't die by chance, and your rheumatism can hardly
be reckoned among providential visitations!"

     "Oh, wicked, wicked!" gasped the elder; "may the
Lord deliver us from evil!"

     "No, reprobate; you are a castaway. Be off, or I'll hurt
you seriously. I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay;
and the first who passes the limits I fix shall---I'll not
say what he shall be done to, but you'll see! Go! I'm
looking at you."

     The little witch put a mock malignity into her beau-
tiful eyes, and Joseph, trembling with sincere horror,
hurried out, praying and ejaculating "wicked" as he
went. I thought her conduct must be prompted by a
species of dreary fun; and, now that we were alone, I en-
deavoured to interest her in my distress.

     "Mrs. Heathcliff," I said earnestly, "you must ex-
cuse me for troubling you. I presume, because, with that
face, I'm sure you cannot help being good-hearted.
Do point out some landmarks by which I may know my
way home. I have no more idea how to get there than
you would have how to get to London."

     "Take the road you came," she answered, ensconc-
ing herself in a chair, with a candle, and the long book
open before her. "It is brief advice, but as sound as I can
give."

     "Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead in a
bog or a pit full of snow, your conscience won't whis-
per that it is partly your fault?"

     "How so? I cannot escort you. They wouldn't let me
go to the end of the garden wall."

     "You! I should be sorry to ask you to cross the
threshold for my convenience on such a night," I cried.
"I want you to tell me my way, not to show it, or else to
persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give me a guide."

     "Who? There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph,
and I. Which would you have?"

     "Are there no boys at the farm?"

     "No; those are all."

     "Then, it follows that I am compelled to stay."

     "That you may settle with your host. I have nothing
to do with it."

     "I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more
rash journeys on these hills," cried Heathcliff's stern
voice from the kitchen entrance. "As to staying here, I
don't keep accommodations for visitors. You must
share a bed with Hareton or Joseph, if you do."

     "I can sleep on a chair in this room," I replied.

     "No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor.
It will not suit me to permit any one the range of the
place while I am off guard!" said the unmannerly
wretch.

     With this insult, my patience was at an end. I uttered
an expression of disgust, and pushed past him into the
yard, running against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so
dark that I could not see the means of exit; and, as I
wandered round, I heard another specimen of their civil
behaviour amongst each other. At first the young man
appeared about to befriend me.

     "I'll go with him as far as the park," he said.

     "You'll go with him to hell!" exclaimed his master,
or whatever relation he bore. "And who is to look after
the horses, eh?"

     "A man's life is of more consequence than one eve-
ning's neglect of the horses. Somebody must go," mur-
mured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected.

     "Not at your command!" retorted Hareton. "If you
set store on him, you'd better be quiet."

     "Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope
Mr. Heathcliff will never get another tenant till the
Grange is a ruin!" she answered sharply.

     "Hearken, hearken; shoo's cursing on 'em!" mut-
tered Joseph, towards whom I had been steering.

     He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light
of a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously, and call-
ing out that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed
to the nearest postern.

     "Maister, maister, he's staling t' lanthern!" shouted
the ancient, pursuing my retreat. "Hey, Gnasher! Hey,
dog! Hey, Wolf, holld him, holld him!"

     On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at
my throat, bearing me down and extinguishing the light;
while a mingled guffaw from Heathcliff and Hareton
put the copestone on my rage and humiliation. Fortu-
nately, the beasts seemed more bent on stretching their
paws and yawning, and flourishing their tails, than de-
vouring me alive; but they would suffer no resurrection,
and I was forced to lie till their malignant masters
pleased to deliver me. Then, hatless and trembling with

wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out---on their
peril to keep me one minute longer---with several inco-
herent threats of retaliation that, in their indefinite
depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.

     The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious
bleeding at the nose; and still Heathcliff laughed, and
still I scolded. I don't know what would have concluded
the scene had there not been one person at hand rather
more rational than myself and more benevolent than my
entertainer. This was Zillah, the stout housewife, who
at length issued forth to inquire into the nature of the
uproar. She thought that some of them had been laying
violent hands on me; and, not daring to attack her mas-
ter, she turned her vocal artillery against the younger
scoundrel.

     "Well, Mr. Earnshaw," she cried, "I wonder what
you'll have agait next! Are we going to murder folk on
our very door-stones? I see this house will never do for
me. Look at t' poor lad; he's fair choking!--Wisht,
wisht! you munn't go on so. Come in, and I'll cure that.
There now, hold ye still."

     With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of
icy water down my neck, and pulled me into the kitchen.
Mr. Heathcliff followed, his accidental merriment ex-
piring quickly in his habitual moroseness.

     I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy and faint, and thus
compelled perforce to accept lodgings under his roof.
He told Zillah to give me a glass of brandy, and then

passed on to the inner room; while she condoled with
me on my sorry predicament, and having obeyed his
orders, whereby I was somewhat revived, ushered me
to bed.
CHAPTER III.

While leading the way upstairs, she recommended
that I should hide the candle, and not make a
noise, for her master had an odd notion about the cham-
ber she would put me in, and never let anybody lodge
there willingly. I asked the reason. She did not know,
she answered. She had only lived there a year or two;
and they had so many queer goings on, she could not
begin to be curious.

     Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my
door and glanced round for the bed. The whole furni-
ture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press, and a large
oak case, with squares cut out near the top resembling
coach windows. Having approached this structure, I
looked inside, and perceived it to be a singular sort of
old-fashioned couch, very conveniently designed to ob-
viate the necessity for every member of the family hav-
ing a room to himself. In fact, it formed a little closet;
and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served
as a table. I slid back the panelled sides, got in with my
light, pulled them together again, and felt secure against
the vigilance of Heathcliff and every one else.

     The ledge where I placed my candle had a few mil-
dewed books piled up in one corner, and it was covered

with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, how-
ever, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of
characters, large and small---Catherine Earnshaw,
here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff and then
again to Catherine Linton.

     In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the win-
dow, and continued spelling over Catherine Earnshaw
---Heathcliff---Linton, till my eyes closed. But they had
not rested five minutes when a glare of white letters
started from the dark as vivid as spectres---the air
swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel
the obtrusive name, I discovered my candle-wick re-
clining on one of the antique volumes, and perfum-
ing the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin. I
snuffed it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence
of cold and lingering nausea, sat up and spread open
the injured tome on my knee. It was a Testament, in
lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty. A fly-leaf
bore the inscription, "Catherine Earnshaw, her book,"
and a date some quarter of a century back. I shut it,
and took up another, and another, till I had examined
all. Catherine's library was select, and its state of dilapi-
dation proved it to have been well used, though not al-
together for a legitimate purpose. Scarcely one chapter
had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary---at least, the
appearance of one---covering every morsel of blank
that the printer had left. Some were detached sentences;
other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in
an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page

(quite a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I
was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature
of my friend Joseph, rudely yet powerfully sketched.
An immediate interest kindled within me for the un-
known Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher
her faded hieroglyphics.

     "An awful Sunday!" commenced the paragraph be-
neath. "I wish my father were back again. Hindley is
a detestable substitute---his conduct to Heathcliff is
atrocious---H. and I are going to rebel---we took our
initiatory step this evening.

     "All day had been flooding with rain. We could not
go to church, so Joseph must needs get up a congrega-
tion in the garret; and while Hindley and his wife basked
downstairs before a comfortable fire---doing anything
but reading their Bibles, I'll answer for it---Heathcliff,
myself, and the unhappy plough-boy were commanded
to take our prayer-books and mount. We were ranged
in a row on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering, and
hoping that Joseph would shiver too, so that he might
give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea!
The service lasted precisely three hours; and yet my
brother had the face to exclaim, when he saw us de-
scending, 'What! done already?' On Sunday evenings
we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make
much noise; now a mere titter is sufficient to send us
into corners!

     " 'You forget you have a master here,' says the ty-
rant. 'I'll demolish the first who puts me out of temper!

I insist on perfect sobriety and silence. O boy! was that
you?----Frances darling, pull his hair as you go by. I
heard him snap his fingers.' Frances pulled his hair
heartily, and then went and seated herself on her hus-
band's knee; and there they were, like two babies, kiss-
ing and talking nonsense by the hour---foolish palaver
that we should be ashamed of. We made ourselves as
snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser.
I had just fastened our pinafores together, and hung
them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph on an er-
rand from the stables. He tears down my handiwork,
boxes my ears, and croaks,---

     " 'T' maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath no
o'ered, und t' sound o' t' gospel still i' yer lugs, and ye
darr be laiking! Shame on ye! Sit ye down, ill childer;
there's good books eneugh if ye'll read 'em. Sit ye down,
and think o' yer sowls!'

     "Saying this, he compelled us so to square our posi-
tions that we might receive from the far-off flre a dull
ray to show us the text of the lumber he thrust upon us.
I could not bear the employment. I took my dingy vol-
ume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel,
vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to
the same place. Then there was a hubbub!

     " 'Maister Hindley!' shouted our chaplain. 'Maister,
coom hither! Miss Cathy's riven th' back off "Th' Hel-
met o' Salvation," un Heathcliff's pawsed his fit into t'
first part o' "T' Brooad Way to Destruction!" It's fair

flaysome that ye let 'em go on this gait. Ech! th' owd
man wad ha' laced 'em properly; but he's goan!'

     "Hindley hurried up from his paradise on the hearth,
and seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the
arm, hurled both into the back kitchen, where, Joseph asseverated,
`owd Nick' would fetch us as sure as we were living; and, so 
comforted, we each sought a separate nook to await his advent.

     "I reached this book, and a pot of ink from a shelf, and pushed
the house-door ajar to give me light, and I have got the time on
with writing for twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient
and proposes that we should appropriate the dairy woman's cloak, and
have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter.  A pleasant suggestion--
and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophesy
verified--we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here."

     I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next sentence 
took up another subject; she waxed lachrymose.

     "How little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!"
she wrote.  "My head aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow;
and still I can't give over.  Poor Heathcliff!  Hindley calls him a
vagabond, and won't let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more;
and he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn 
him out of the house if we break his orders.

     "He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating
H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place--"

     I began to nod drowsily over the dim page; my eye wandered from
manuscript to print.  I saw a red ornamented title--"Seventy 
Times Seven, and the First of the Seventy-First.  A Pious Discourse
delivered by the Reverend Jabes Branderham, in the Chapel of
Gimmerden Sough."  And while I was, half consciously, worrying
my brain to guess what Jabes Branderham would make of his subject,
I sank back in bed, and fell asleep.

     Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper! what else could it
be that made me pass such a terrible night?  I don't remember another
that I can at all compare with it since I was capable of suffering.

     I began to dream, almost before I ceased to be sensible of my
locality.  I thought it was morning, and I had set out on my way
home, with Joseph for a guide.  The snow lay yards deep in our 
road; and, as we floundered on, my companion wearied me with
constant reproaches that I had not brought a pilgrim's staff, telling
me I could never get into the house without one, and boastfully
flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood to be so
denominated.

     For a moment I considered it absurd that I should need such 
a weapon to gain admittance into my own residence. Then a new
idea flashed across me. I was not going there. We were
journeying to hear the famous Jabes Branderham
preach from the text, "Seventy Times Seven," and either
Joseph the preacher or I had committed the "First
of the Seventy-First," and were to be publicly exposed
and excommunicated.

     We came to the chapel. I have passed it really in my
walks twice or thrice. It lies in a hollow between two
hills---an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whose peaty
moisture is said to answer all the purposes of embalm-
ing on the few corpses deposited there. The roof has
been kept whole hitherto; but as the clergyman's sti-
pend is only twenty pounds per annum, and a house
with two rooms, threatening speedily to determine into
one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor,
especially as it is currently reported that his flock would
rather let him starve than increase the living by one
penny from their own pockets. However, in my dream,
Jabes had a full and attentive congregation, and he
preached--good God! what a sermon, divided into
four hundred and ninety parts, each fully equal to an
ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing
a separate sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot
tell. He had his private manner of interpreting the
phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother should
sin different sins on every occasion. They were of the
most curious character---odd transgressions that I never
imagined previously.

     Oh, how weary I grew! How I writhed, and yawned,
and nodded, and revived! How I pinched, and pricked
myself, and rubbed my eyes, and stood up, and sat down
again, and nudged Joseph to inform me if he would
ever have done! I was condemned to hear all out. Fi-
nally, he reached the "First of the Seventy-First." At
that crisis, a sudden inspiration descended on me. I
was moved to rise and denounce Jabes Branderham as
the sinner of the sin that no Christian need pardon.

     "Sir," I exclaimed, "sitting here within these four
walls, at one stretch, I have endured and forgiven the
four hundred and ninety heads of your discourse. Sev-
enty times seven times have I plucked up my hat and
been about to depart; seventy times seven times have
you preposterously forced me to resume my seat. The
four hundred and ninety-first is too much.---Fellow-
martyrs, have at him! Drag him down, and crush him
to atoms, that the place which knows him may know
him no more!"

     "Thou art the man!" cried Jabes, after a solemn
pause, leaning over his cushion. "Seventy times seven
times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage; seventy
times seven did I take counsel with my soul. Lo, this is
human weakness; this also may be absolved! The 'First
of the Seventy-First' is come. Brethren, execute upon
him the judgment written. Such honour have all His
saints!"

     With that concluding word, the whole assembly, ex-
alting their pilgrim's staves, rushed round me in a body;
and I, having no weapon to raise in self-defence, com-
menced grappling with Joseph, my nearest and most
ferocious assailant, for his. In the confluence of the
multitude several clubs crossed; blows aimed at me fell
on other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resounded

with rappings and counter-rappings. Every man's hand
was against his neighbour; and Branderham, unwilling
to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud
taps on the boards of the pulpit, which responded so
smartly that at last, to my unspeakable relief, they woke
me. And what was it that had suggested the tremendous
tumult? What had played Jabes's part in the row?
Merely the branch of a fir-tree that touched my lattice,
as the blast wailed by, and rattled its dry cones against
the panes! I listened doubtingly an instant, detected the
disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again---
if possible, still more disagreeably than before.

     This time I remembered I was lying in the oak closet,
and I heard distinctly the gusty wind and the driving
of the snow. I heard also the fir-bough repeat its teasing
sound, and ascribed it to the right cause. But it an-
noyed me so much that I resolved to silence it, if pos-
sible; and I thought I rose and endeavoured to unhasp
the casement. The hook was soldered into the staple---a
circumstance observed by me when awake, but forgot-
ten. "I must stop it, nevertheless!" I muttered, knock-
ing my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an
arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of
which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-
cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over
me. I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung
to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, "Let me in
---let me in!" "Who are you?" I asked, struggling,

meanwhile, to disengage myself. "Catherine Linton,"
it replied shiveringly. (Why did I think of Linton? I
had read Earnshaw twenty times for Linton.) "I'm
come home. I'd lost my way on the moor." As it spoke,
I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through
the window. Terror made me cruel; and finding it use-
less to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its
wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro
till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes. Still
it wailed, "Let me in!" and maintained its tenacious
gripe, almost maddening me with fear. "How can I?"
I said at length. "Let me go, if you want me to let you
in!" The fingers relaxed; I snatched mine through the
hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against
it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable
prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter
of an hour; yet the instant I listened again, there was
the doleful cry moaning on! "Begone!" I shouted; "I'll
never let you in---not if you beg for twenty years." "It
is twenty years," mourned the voice---"twenty years.
I've been a waif for twenty years!" Thereat began a fee-
ble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as
if thrust forward. I tried to jump up, but could not stir
a limb, and so yelled aloud in a frenzy of fright. To my
confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal. Hasty
footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody
pushed it open with a vigorous hand, and a light glim-
mered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat
shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my

forehead. The intruder appeared to hesitate, and mut-
tered to himself. At last he said in a half-whisper, plainly
not expecting an answer, "Is any one here?" I consid-
ered it best to confess my presence, for I knew Heath-
cliff's accents, and feared he might search further if I
kept quiet. With this intention I turned and opened
the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action
produced.

     Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and
trousers, with a candle dripping over his fingers, and
his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak
of the oak startled him like an electric shock. The light
leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his
agitation was so extreme that he could hardly pick it up.

     "It is only your guest, sir," I called out, desirous to
spare him the humiliation of exposing his cowardice
further. "I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep,
owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed
you."

     "Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish
you were at the---" commenced my host, setting the
candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold
it steady. "And who showed you up into this room?"
he continued, crushing his nails into his palms and
grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.
"Who was it? I've a good mind to turn them out of the
house this moment."

     "It was your servant Zillah," I replied, flinging my-
self on to the floor, and rapidly resuming my garments.
"I should not care if you did, Mr. Heathcliff; she richly
deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another
proof that the place was haunted, at my expense. Well,
it is---swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have
reason in shutting it up, I assure you. No one will thank
you for a doze in such a den!"

     "What do you mean?" asked Heathcliff, "and what
are you doing? Lie down and finish out the night, since
you are here; but, for Heaven's sake, don't repeat that
horrid noise. Nothing could excuse it, unless you were
having your throat cut!"

     "If the little fiend had got in at the window, she prob-
ably would have strangled me!" I returned. "I'm not
going to endure the persecutions of your hospitable an-
cestors again. Was not the Reverend Jabes Branderham
akin to you on the mother's side? And that minx, Cath-
erine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called,
she must have been a changeling----wicked little soul!
She told me she had been walking the earth those
twenty years---a just punishment for her mortal trans-
gressions, I've no doubt."

     Scarcely were these words uttered, when I recol-
lected the association of Heathcliff's with Catherine's
name in the book, which had completely slipped from
my memory, till thus awakened. I blushed at my incon-

sideration; but without showing further consciousness
of the offence, I hastened to add, "The truth is, sir, I
passed the first part of the night in-----" Here I stopped
afresh. I was about to say "perusing those old volumes"
---then it would have revealed my knowledge of their
written as well as their printed contents; so, correcting
myself, I went on, "In spelling over the name scratched
on that window-ledge---a monotonous occupation, cal-
culated to set me asleep, like counting, or---"

     "What can you mean by talking in this way to me?"
thundered Heathcliff, with savage vehemence. "How
---how dare you, under my roof?---God, he's mad to
speak so!" And he struck his forehead with rage.

     I did not know whether to resent this language or
pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully
affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams,
affirming I had never heard the appellation of "Cather-
ine Linton" before, but reading it often over produced
an impression which personified itself when I had no
longer my imagination under control. Heathcliff grad-
ually fell back into the shelter of the bed as I spoke,
finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I
guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted
breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of
violent emotion. Not liking to show him that I had
heard the conflict, I continued my toilet rather noisily,
looked at my watch, and soliloquized on the length of
the night. Not three o'clock yet! I could have taken
oath it had been six. Time stagnates here. We must
surely have retired to rest at eight!

     "Always at nine in winter, and rise at four," said my
host, suppressing a groan, and, as I fancied, by the mo-
tion of his arm's shadow, dashing a tear from his eyes.
"Mr. Lockwood," he added, "you may go into my room.
You'll only be in the way, coming downstairs so early;
and your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil for
me."

     "And for me too," I replied. "I'll walk in the yard
till daylight, and then I'll be off; and you need not dread
a repetition of my intrusion. I'm now quite cured of
seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A
sensible man ought to find sufficient company in him-
self."

     "Delightful company!" muttered Heathcliff. "Take
the candle, and go where you please. I shall join you
directly. Keep out of the yard, though---the dogs are
unchained; and the house---Juno mounts sentinel
there, and----nay, you can only ramble about the steps
and passages. But away with you! I'll come in two min-
utes!"

     I obeyed, so far as to quit the chamber; when, igno-
rant where the narrow lobbies led, I stood still, and was
witness, involuntarily, to a piece of superstition on the
part of my landlord which belied oddly his apparent
sense. He got on to the bed and wrenched open the
lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrol-
lable passion of tears. "Come in! come in!" he sobbed.

"Cathy, do come! Oh, do---once more! Oh, my heart's
darling! hear me this time, Catherine, at last!" The
spectre showed a spectre's ordinary caprice. It gave no
sign of being; but the snow and wind whirled wildly
through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the
light.

     There was such anguish in the gush of grief that ac-
companied this raving that my compassion made me
overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have lis-
tened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous
nightmare, since it produced that agony; though why
was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously
to the lower regions, and landed in the back kitchen,
where a gleam of fire, raked compactly together, en-
abled me to rekindle my candle. Nothing was stirring
except a brindled, gray cat, which crept from the ashes,
and saluted me with a querulous mew.

     Two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly
enclosed the hearth. On one of these I stretched myself,
and Grimalkin mounted the other. We were both of us
nodding ere any one invaded our retreat, and then it
was Joseph, shuffling down a wooden ladder that
vanished in the roof, through a trap---the ascent to his
garret, I suppose. He cast a sinister look at the little
flame which I had enticed to play between the ribs,
swept the cat from its elevation, and bestowing himself
in the vacancy, commenced the operation of stuffing a
three-inch pipe with tobacco. My presence in his sanc-
tum was evidently esteemed a piece of impudence too

shameful for remark. He silently applied the tube to
his lips, folded his arms, and puffed away. I let him en-
joy the luxury unannoyed; and after sucking out his last
wreath, and heaving a profound sigh, he got up, and de-
parted as solemnly as he came.

     A more elastic footstep entered next; and now I
opened my mouth for a "good-morning," but closed it
again, the salutation unachieved, for Hareton Earn-
shaw was performing his orisons, sotto voce, in a series
of curses directed against every object he touched, while
he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig
through the drifts. He glanced over the back of the
bench, dilating his nostrils, and thought as little of ex-
changing civilities with me as with my companion the
cat. I guessed by his preparations that egress was al-
lowed, and leaving my hard couch, made a movement
to follow him. He noticed this, and thrust at an inner
door with the end of his spade, intimating by an inar-
ticulate sound that there was the place where I must go
if I changed my locality.

     It opened into the house, where the females were al-
ready astir---Zillah urging flakes of flame up the chim-
ney with a colossal bellows; and Mrs. Heathcliff, kneel-
ing on the hearth, reading a book by the aid of the blaze.
She held her hand interposed between the furnace-heat
and her eyes, and seemed absorbed in her occupation,
desisting from it only to chide the servant for covering
her with sparks, or to push away a dog, now and then,
that snoozled its nose over-forwardly into her face. I

was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. He stood by
the fire, his back towards me, just finishing a stormy
scene to poor Zillah, who ever and anon interrupted her
labour to pluck up the corner of her apron and heave
an indignant groan.

     "And you, you worthless----" he broke out as I en-
tered, turning to his daughter-in-law, and employing an
epithet as harmless as duck or sheep, but generally rep-
resented by a dash------. "There you are at your idle
tricks again! The rest of them do earn their bread;
you live on my charity! Put your trash away, and find
something to do. You shall pay me for the plague of
having you eternally in my sight. Do you hear, dam-
nable jade?"

     "I'll put my trash away, because you can make me
if I refuse," answered the young lady, closing her book
and throwing it on a chair. "But I'll not do anything,
though you should swear your tongue out, except what
I please!"

     Heathcliff lifted his hand, and the speaker sprang to
a safer distance, obviously acquainted with its weight.
Having no desire to be entertained by a cat-and-dog
combat, I stepped forward briskly, as if eager to par-
take the warmth of the hearth, and innocent of any
knowledge of the interrupted dispute. Each had enough
decorum to suspend further hostilities. Heathcliff placed
his fists, out of temptation, in his pockets; Mrs. Heath-
cliff curled her lip, and walked to a seat far off, where
she kept her word by playing the part of a statue during

the remainder of my stay. That was not long. I declined
joining their breakfast, and at the first gleam of dawn
took an opportunity of escaping into the free air, now
clear, and still, and cold as impalpable ice.

     My landlord hallooed for me to stop ere I reached
the bottom of the garden, and offered to accompany me
across the moor. It was well he did, for the whole hill-
back was one billowy, white ocean, the swells and falls
not indicating corresponding rises and depressions in
the ground. Many pits, at least, were filled to a level,
and entire ranges of mounds, the refuse of the quarries,
blotted from the chart which my yesterday's walk left
pictured in my mind. I had remarked on one side of the
road, at intervals of six or seven yards, a line of upright
stones, continued through the whole length of the
barren. These were erected and daubed with lime on
purpose to serve as guides in the dark, and also when a
fall, like the present, confounded the deep swamps on
either hand with the firmer path; but, exceptiog a dirty
dot pointing up here and there, all traces of their exist-
ence had vanished, and my companion found it neces-
sary to warn me frequently to steer to the right or left,
when I imagined I was following correctly the windings
of the road.

     We exchanged little conversation, and he halted at
the entrance of Thrushcross Park, saying I could make
no error there. Our adieus were limited to a hasty
bow, and then I pushed forward, trusting to my own
resources, for the porter's lodge is untenanted as yet.

The distance from the gate to the Grange is two miles;
I believe I managed to make it four, what with losing
myself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in
snow---a predicament which only those who have ex-
perienced it can appreciate. At any rate, whatever were
my wanderings, the clock chimed twelve as I entered
the house, and that gave exactly an hour for every mile
of the usual way from Wuthering Heights.

     My human fixture and her satellites rushed to wel-
come me, exclaiming tumultuously they had completely
given me up. Everybody conjectured that I perished last
night, and they were wondering how they must set
about the search for my remains. I bid them be quiet,
now that they saw me returned, and, benumbed to my
very heart, I dragged upstairs; whence, after putting
on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or forty
minutes, to restore the animal heat, I am adjourned to
my study, feeble as a kitten---almost too much so to
enjoy the cheerful fire and smoking coffee which the
servant has prepared for my refreshment.
CHAPTER IV.

What vain weather-cocks we are! I, who had de-
termined to hold myself independent of all social
intercourse, and thanked my stars that at length I had
lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable--- I,
weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with
low spirits and solitude, was finally compelled to strike
my colours; and under pretence of gaining information
concerning the necessities of my establishment, I de-
sired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit
down while I ate it, hoping sincerely she would prove a
regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation or lull
me to sleep by her talk.

     "You have lived here a considerable time," I com-
menced---"did you not say sixteen years?"

     "Eighteen, sir. I came, when the mistress was mar-
ried, 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 her own affairs, and those could hardly
interest me. However, having studied for an interval,
with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation
over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated,---

     "Ah, times are greatly changed since thenl"

     "Yes," I remarked; "you've seen a good many altera-
tions, I suppose?"

     "I have; and troubles too," she said.

     "Oh, I'll turn the talk on my landlord's family!" I
thought to myself. "A good subject to start! And that
pretty girl-widow, I should like to know her history---
whether she be a native of the country, or, as is more
probable, an exotic that the surly indigenae will not
recognize for kin." With this intention I asked Mrs.
Dean why Heathcliff let Thrushcross Grange, and pre-
ferred living in a situation and residence so much in-
ferior. "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 every year it increases. Yes, yes; he's
rich enough to live in a finer house than this. But he's
very near---cose-handed; and if he had meant to flit
to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good
tenant he could not have borne to miss the chance of
getting a few hundreds more. It is strange 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 her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing!
I did wish Mr. Heathcliff would remove here, and then
we might have been together again."

     "What! Catherine Linton?" I exclaimed, astonished.
But a minute's reflection convinced me it was not my
ghostly Catherine. "Then," I continued, "my predeces-
sor'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 side, the other on the father's side.
Heathcliff married Mr. Linton's sister."

     "I see the house at Wuthering Heights has 'Earn-
shaw' carved over the front door. Are they an old fam-
ily?"

     "Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our
Miss Cathy is of us---I mean of the Lintons. Have you
been to Wuthering Heights? I beg pardon 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 with him the better."

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

     "It's a cuckoo's, sir. I know all about it---except
where he was born, and who were his parents, and
how he got his money at first. And Hareton has been
cast out like an unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate
lad is the only one 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 my neighbours. I feel I shall not rest if
I go to bed, so be good enough to sit and chat an hour."

     "Oh, certainly, sir! I'll just fetch a little sewing, and
then I'll sit as long as you please. But you've caught
cold---I saw you shivering; and you must have some
gruel to drive it out."

     The worthy woman bustled off, and I crouched
nearer the fire. My head felt hot, and the rest of me
chill; moreover, I was excited, almost to a pitch of fool-
ishness, through my nerves and brain. This caused me
to feel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful (as I am
still) of serious effects from the incidents of to-day and
yesterday. She returned presently, bringing a smoking
basin and a basket of work; and having placed the
former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently pleased
to find me so companionable.

     	* * * * *

     Before I came to live here, she commenced--- waiting
no further invitation to her story---I was almost always
at Wuthering Heights, because my mother had nursed
Mr. Hindley Earnshaw (that was Hareton's father),
and I got used to playing with the children. I ran er-
rands, too, and helped to make hay, and hung about
the farm, ready for anything that anybody would set
me to. One fine summer morning---it was the beginning
of harvest, I remember--- Mr. Earnshaw, the old master,
came downstairs, dressed for a journey; and after he
had told Joseph what was to be done during the day,
he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me---for I sat
eating my porridge with them---and he said, speaking

to his son, "Now, my bonny man, I'm going to Liver-
pool to-day; what shall I bring you? You may choose
what 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, and then he asked Miss
Cathy. She was hardly six years old, but she could ride
any horse in the stable, and she chose a whip. He did
not forget me, for he had a kind heart, though he was
rather severe sometimes. He promised to bring me a
pocketful of apples and pears; and then he kissed his
children, said good-bye, and set off.

     It seemed a long while to us all---the three days of his
absence---and often did little Cathy ask when he would
be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time
on the third evening, and she put the meal off hour after
hour. There were no signs of his coming, however, and
at last the children got tired of running down to the
gate to look. Then it grew dark. She would have had
them to bed, but they begged sadly to be allowed to
stay up; and just about eleven o'clock the door-latch
was raised quietly, and in stepped the master. He threw
himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, and bid
them all stand off, for he was nearly killed. 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 his greatcoat, which he held bundled up
in his arms. "See here, wife! I was never so beaten with
anything in my life; but you must e'en take it as a gift
of God, though it's as dark almost as if it came from the
devil."

     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, its face looked
older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its feet it
only stared round, and repeated over and over again
some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was
frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out
of doors. She did fly up, asking how he could fashion
to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had
their own bairns to feed 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 with
fatigue, and all that I could make out, amongst her
scolding, was a tale of his seeing it starving, and house-
less, and as good as dumb, in the streets 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 time being both limited, he thought it better
to take it home with him at once, than run into vain
expenses there, because he was determined be would
not leave it as he found it. Well, the conclusion was that
my mistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw
told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it
sleep with the children.

     Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with look-
ing and listening till peace was restored; then both be-
gan searching their father's pockets for 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 the greatcoat, he blubbered aloud; and

Cathy, when she learned the master had lost her whip
in attending on the stranger, showed her humour by
grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing, earning
for her pains a sound blow from her father to teach her
cleaner manners. They entirely refused to have it in
bed with them, or even in their room; and I had no
more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hop-
ing it might be gone on the morrow. By chance, or else
attracted by hearing his voice, it crept to Mr. Earn-
shaw's door, and there he found it on quitting his cham-
ber. Inquiries were made as to how it got there. I was
obliged to confess, and in recompense for my coward-
ice and inhumanity was sent out of the house.

     This was Heathcliff's first introduction to the family.
On coming back a few days afterwards (for I did not
consider my banishment perpetual) I found they had
christened him "Heathcliff." It was the name of a son
who died in childhood, and it has served him ever since,
both for Christian and surname. Miss Cathy and he
were now very thick; but Hindley hated him, and, to
say the truth, I did the same; and we plagued and went
on with him shamefully, for I wasn't reasonable enough
to feel my injustice, and the 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 with-
out winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved
him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes, as if he
had hurt himself by accident and nobody was to blame.
This endurance made old Earnshaw furious when he
discovered his son persecuting the poor, fatherless child,
as he called him. He took to Heathcliff strangely, be-
lieving all he said (for that matter, he said precious
little, and generally the truth), and petting him up far
above Cathy, who was too mischievous and wayward
for a favourite.

     So from the very beginning he bred bad feeling in
the house; and at Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which hap-
pened in less than two years after, the young master
had learned to regard his father as an oppressor rather
than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's
affections and his privileges, and he grew bitter with
brooding over these injuries. I sympathized a while;
but when the children fell ill of the measles, and I had
to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at
once, I changed my ideas. Heathcliff was dangerously
sick; and while he lay at the worst he would have me
constantly by his pillow. I suppose he felt I did a good
deal for him, and he hadn't wit to guess that I was com-
pelled to do it. However, I will say this---he was the
quietest child that ever nurse watched over. The dif-
ference between him and the others forced me to be
less partial. Cathy and her brother harassed me ter-
ribly; he was as uncomplaining as a lamb, though hard-
ness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble.

     He got through, and the doctor affirmed it was in a
great measure owing to me, and praised me for my care.
I was vain of his commendations, and softened towards
the being by whose means I earned them; and thus
Hindley lost his last ally. Still I couldn't dote on Heath-
cliff, and I wondered often what my master saw to ad-
mire so much in the sullen boy, who never, to my recol-
lection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of gratitude.
He was not insolent to his benefactor, he was simply
insensible, though knowing perfectly the hold he had on
his heart, and conscious he had only to speak and all
the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes. As an
instance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw once bought a
couple of colts at the parish 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, I shall 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 out his 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 will have to; and
if I speak of these blows, you'll get them again with in-
terest." "Off, dog!" cried Hindley, threatening him with

an iron weight used for weighing potatoes and hay.
"Throw it," he replied, standing still, "and then I'll tell
how you boasted that you would turn me out of doors
as soon as he died, and see whether he will not turn
you out directly." Hindley threw it, hitting him on the
breast, and down he fell, but staggered up immediately,
breathless and white; and had I not prevented it, he
would have gone just so to the master, and got full re-
venge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating
who had caused it. "Take my colt, gipsy, then!" said
young Earnshaw. "And I pray that he may break your
neck. Take him, and be damned, you beggarly inter-
loper; and wheedle my father out of all he has. Only
afterwards show him what you are, imp of Satan. And
take that! I hope he'll kick out your brains!"

     Heathcliff had gone to loose the beast and shift it to
his own stall. He was passing behind it, when Hindley
finished his speech by knocking him under its feet, and
without stopping to examine whether his hopes were
fulfilled, ran away as fast as he could. I was surprised
to witness how coolly the child gathered himself up, and
went on with his intention---exchanging saddles and
all, and then sitting down on a bundle of hay to over-
come the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, be-
fore he entered the house. I persuaded him easily to let
me lay the blame of his bruises on the horse. He minded
little what tale was told, since he had what he wanted.
He complained so seldom, indeed, of such stirs as these,
that I really thought him not vindictive. I was de-
ceived completely, as you will hear.
CHAPTER V.

In the course of time Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He
had been active and healthy, yet his strength left
him suddenly; and when he was confined to the chim-
ney-corner he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed
him, and suspected slights of his authority nearly threw
him into fits. This was especially to be remarked if any
one attempted to impose upon or domineer over his
favourite. He was painfully jealous lest a word should
be spoken amiss to him, seeming to have got into his
head the notion that, because he liked Heathcliff, all
hated and longed to do him an ill turn. It was a disad-
vantage to the lad, for the kinder among us did not
wish to fret the master, so we humoured his partiality;
and that humouring was rich nourishment to the child's
pride and black tempers. Still it became in a manner
necessary. Twice or thrice Hindley's manifestation of
scorn, while his father was near, roused the old man to
a fury. He seized his stick to strike him, and shook with
rage that he could not do it.

     At last our curate (we had a curate then, who made
the living answer by teaching the little Lintons and
Earnshaws and farming his bit of land himself) advised
that the young man should be sent to college; and Mr.
Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he
said, "Hindley was nought, and would never thrive as
where he wandered."

     I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt
me to think the master should be made uncomfortable
by his own good deed. I fancied the discontent of age
and disease arose from his family disagreements, as he
would have it that it did. Really, you know, sir, it was
in his sinking frame. We might have got on tolerably,
notwithstanding, but for two people---Miss Cathy and
Joseph the servant. You saw him, I dare say, up yonder.
He was, and is yet most likely, the wearisomest self-
righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to rake
the promises to himself and fling the curses to his neigh-
bours. By his knack of sermonizing and pious dis-
coursing he contrived to make a great impression on
Mr. Earnshaw; and the more feeble the master became,
the more influence he gained. He was relentless in wor-
rying him about his soul's concerns, and about ruling
his children rigidly. He encouraged him to regard
Hindley as a reprobate; and night after night he regu-
larly grumbled out a long string of tales against Heath-
cliff and Catherine, always minding to flatter Earn-
shaw's weakness by heaping the heaviest blame on the
latter.

     Certainly she had ways with her such as I never saw
a child take up before; and she put all of us past our
patience fifty times and oftener in a day. From the hour
she came downstairs till the hour she went to bed we
had not a minute's security that she wouldn't be in mis-
chief. Her spirits were always at high-water mark, her
tongue always going---singing, laughing, and plaguing
everybody who would not do the same. A wild, wicked

slip she was; but she had the bonniest eye, the sweetest
smile, and lightest foot in the parish. And, after all, I
believe she meant no harm; for when once she made
you cry in good earnest, it seldom happened that she
would not keep you company, and oblige you to be
quiet, that you might comfort her. She was much too
fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could
invent for her was to keep her separate from him; yet
she got chided more than any of us on his account. In
play she liked exceedingly to act the little mistress,
using her hands freely, and commanding her compan-
ions. She did so to me, but I would not bear shopping
and ordering, and so I let her know.

     Now, Mr. Earnshaw did not understand jokes from
his children. He had always been strict and grave with
them; and Catherine, on her part, had no idea why her
father should be crosser and less patient in his ailing
condition than he was in his prime. His peevish reproofs
wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him. She
was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at
once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look and
her ready words, turning Joseph's religious curses into
ridicule, baiting me, and doing just what her father
hated most---showing how her pretended insolence,
which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff

than his kindness; how the boy would do her bidding
in anything, and his only when it suited his own inclina-
tion. After behaving as badly as possible all day, she
sometimes came fondling to make it up at night. "Nay,
Cathy," the old man would say, "I cannot love thee;
thou'rt worse than thy brother. Go say thy prayers,
child, and ask God's pardon. I doubt thy mother and I
must rue that we ever reared thee!" That made her cry
at first; and then being repulsed continually hardened
her, and she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry
for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.

     But the hour came at last that ended Mr. Earnshaw's
troubles on earth. He died quietly in his chair one Octo-
ber evening, seated by the fireside. A high wind blus-
tered round the house and roared in the chimney. It
sounded wild and stormy, yet it was not cold, and
we were all together---I, a little removed from the
hearth, busy at my knitting, and Joseph reading his
Bible near the table (for the servants generally sat in
the house then, after their work was done). Miss Cathy
had been sick, and that made her still. She leant against
her father's knee, and Heathcliff was lying on the floor
with his head in her lap.

     I remember the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking
her bonny hair--it pleased him rarely to see her gentle--and 
saying--

     "Why canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?"

     And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered--

     "Why cannot you always be a good man, father?"

     But as soon as she saw him vexed again, she kissed his hand, 
and said she would sing him to sleep.  She began singing very low,
till his fingers dropped from hers, and his head sank on his breast.
Then I told her to hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake
him.  We all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour, and should 
have done so longer, only Joseph, having finished his chapter, got
up and said that he must rouse the master for prayers and bed.
He stepped forward, and called him by name, and touched his 
shoulder, but he would not move--so he took the candle and
looked at him.

     I thought there was something wrong as he set down the light;
and seizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to
"frame upstairs, and make little din--they might pray alone that
evening--he had summut to do."

     "I shall bid father good-night first," said Catherine, putting
her arms round his neck, before we could hinder her.

     The poor thing discovered her loss directly--she screamed out--

     "Oh, he's dead, Heathcliff! he's dead!"

     And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

     I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked
what we could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in 
heaven.

     He told me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the
doctor and the parson.  I could not guess the use that either would
be of, then.  However, I went, through wind and rain, and brought
one, the doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in
the morning.

     Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children's room; 
their door was ajar, I saw they had never laid down, though it was
past midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to 
console them.  The little souls were comforting each other with
better thoughts than I could have hit on; no parson in the world
ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent
talk; and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishing
we were all there safe together.
CHAPTER VI.

Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and--a thing that 
amazed us, and set the neighbours gossipping right and left--he
brought a wife with him.  

     What she was, and where she was born he never informed us;
probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her, 
or he would scarcely have kept the union from his father.

     She was not one that would have disturbed the house much
on her own account.  Every object she saw, the moment she crossed
the threshold, appeared to delight her; and every circumstance that 
took place about her, except the preparing for the burial, and the
presence of the mourners.

     I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour while that went
on; she ran into her chamber, and made me come with her, though
I should have been dressing the children; and there she sat shivering
and clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly--

     "Are they gone yet?"

     Then she began describing with hysterical emotion the effect
it produced on her to see black; and started, and trembled, and, at 
last, fell a weeping--and when I asked what the matter? answered, 
she didn't know; but she felt so afraid of dying!

     I imagined her as little likely to die as myself.  She was rather
thin, but young, and fresh complexioned, and her eyes sparkled as
bright as diamonds.  I did remark, to be sure, that mounting the

stairs made her breathe very quick, that the least sudden noise
set her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomely sometimes:
but I knew nothing of what these symptoms portended, and 
had no impulse to sympathize with her.  We don't in general take 
to foreigners here, Mr. Lockwood, unless they take to us first.

     Young Earnshaw was altered considerably in the three years of 
his absence.  He had grown sparer, and lost his colour, and spoke
and dressed quite differently; and, on the very day of his return, 
he told Joseph and me we must thenceforth quarter ourselves in
the back-kitchen, and leave the house for him.  Indeed, he would
have carpeted and papered a small spare room for a parlour; but
his wife expressed such pleasure at the white floor, and huge
glowing fire-place, at the pewter dishes, and delf-case, and 
dog-kennel, and the wide space there was to move about in, where
they usually sat, that he thought it unneccessary to her comfort, 
and so dropped the intention.

     She expressed pleasure, too, at finding a sister among her new
acquaintance, and she prattled to Catherine and kissed her and 
ran about with her, and gave her quantities of presents, at the
beginning.  Her affection tired very soon, however, and when she
grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical.  A few words from her,
evincing a dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all
his old hatred of the boy.  He drove him from their company to
the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate and
insisted that he should labour out of doors instead, compelling
him to do so, as hard as any other lad on the farm.

     Heathcliff bore his degradation pretty well at first, because Cathy
taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the
fields.  They both promised fair to grow up as rude as savages, the
young master being entirely negligent how they behaved, and what 
they did, so they kept clear of him.  He would not even have seen
after their going to church on Sundays, only Joseph and the curate
reprimanded his carelessness when they absented themselves, and
that reminded him to order Heathcliff a flogging, and Catherine a 
fast from dinner or supper.

     But it was one of their chief amusements to run away to the 
moors in the morning and remain there all day, and the after-
punishment grew a mere thing to laugh at.  The curate might set
as many chapters as he pleased for Catherine to get by heart, and
Joseph might thrash Heathcliff till his arm ached; they forgot
everything the minute they were together again, at least the minute
they contrived some naughty plan of revenge; and many a time 
I've cried to myself to watch them growing more reckless
daily, and I not daring to speak a syllable for fear of losing the
small power I still retained over the unfriended creatures.

     One Sunday evening, it chanced that they were banished from the
sitting-room, for making a noise, or a light offence of the 
kind, and when I went to call them to supper, I could discover
them nowhere.

     We searched the house, above and below, and the yard and
stables; they were invisible; and, at last, Hindley in a passion told
us to bolt the doors, and swore nobody should let them in that night.

     The household went to bed; and I, too anxious to lie down, 
opened my lattice and put my head out to hearken, though it
rained, determined to admit them in spite of the prohibition,
should they return.

     In a while, I distinguished steps coming up the road, and the 
light of a lantern glimmered through the gate.

     I threw a shawl over my head and ran to prevent them from waking 
Mr. Earnshaw by knocking.  There was Heathcliff, by himself;
it gave me a start to see him alone.

     "Where is Miss Catherine?" I cried hurriedly.  "No accident, I
hope?"

     "At Thrushcross Grange," he answered, "and I would have 
been there too, but they had not the manners to ask me to
stay."

     "Well, you will catch it!" I said, "you'll never be content will
you're sent about your business.  What in the world led you wandering 
to Thrushcross Grange?"

     "Let me get off my wet clothes, and I'll tell you all about it,
Nelly," he replied.

     I bid him beware of rousing the master, and while he undressed,
and I waited to put out the candle, he continued--

     "Cathy and I escaped from the wash-house to have a ramble
at liberty, and getting a glimpse of the Grange lights, we thought

we would just go and see whether the Lintons passed their
Sunday evenings standing shivering in corners, while their father
and mother sat eating and drinking, and singing and laughing, and
burning their eyes out before the fire.  Do you think they do?  Or
reading sermons, and being catechised by their man-servant, and 
set to learn a column of Scripture names, if they don't answer
properly?"

     "Probably not," I responded.  "They are good children, no
doubt, and don't deserve the treatment you receive, for your bad
conduct."

     "Don't you cant, Nelly" he said.  "Nonsense!  We ran from the
top of the Heights to the park, without stopping--Catherine completely
beaten in the race, because she was barefoot.  You'll have to 
seek for her shoes in the bog to-morrow.  We crept through a 
broken hedge, groped our way up the path, and planted ourselves 
on a flower-plot under the drawing-room window.  The light came 
from thence; they had not put up the shutters, and the curtains
were only half closed.  Both of us were able to look in by standing
on the basement, and clinging to the ledge, and we saw--ah! it
was beautiful--a splendid place carpeted with crimson, and 
crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered 
by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the 
centre, and shimmering with little soft tapers.  Old Mr. and Mrs.
Linton were not there.  Edgar and his sister had it entirely to
themselves; shouldn't they have been happy?  We should have thought
ourselves in heaven!  And new, guess what your good children 
were doing?  Isabella--I believe she is eleven, a year younger than
Cathy--lay screaming at the farther end of the room, shrieking
as if witches were running red hot needles into her.  Edgar stood

on the hearth weeping silently, and in the middle of the table sat
a little dog shaking its paw and yelping, which from their mutual
accusations, we understood they had nearly pulled in two be-
tween them. The idiots! That was their pleasure---to
quarrel who should hold a heap of warm hair, and each
begin to cry because both, after struggling to get it,
refused to take it. We laughed outright at the petted
things. We did despise them. When would you catch
me wishing to have what Catherine wanted, or find us
by ourselves seeking entertainment in yelling, and sob-
bing, and rolling on the ground, divided by the whole
room? I'd not exchange for a thousand lives my condi-
tion here for Edgar Linton's at Thrushcross Grange---
not if I might have the privilege of flinging Joseph off
the highest gable, and painting the house-front with
Hindley's blood!"

     "Hush, hush!" I interrupted. "Still you have not
told me, Heathcliff, how Catherine is left behind."

     "I told you we laughed," he answered. "The Lintons
heard us, and with one accord they shot like arrows
to the door. There was silence, and then a cry, 'O
mamma, mamma! O papa! O mamma, come here. O
papa, oh!' They really did howl out something in that
way. We made frightful noises to terrify them still more,
and then we dropped off the ledge because somebody
was drawing the bars, and we felt we had better flee. I

had Cathy by the hand, and was urging her on, when
all at once she fell down. 'Run, Heathcliff, run!' she
whispered. 'They have let the bull-dog loose, and he
holds me!' The devil had seized her ankle, Nelly; I
heard his abominable snorting. She did not yell out---
no! she would have scorned to do it if she had been
spitted on the horns of a mad cow. I did, though. I
vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in
Christendom; and I got a stone and thrust it between
his jaws, and tried with all my might to cram it down
his throat. A beast of a servant came up with a lantern
at last, shouting, 'Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast!' He
changed his note, however, when he saw Skulker's
game. The dog was throttled off, his huge purple tongue
hanging half a foot out of his mouth, and his pendent
lips streaming with bloody slaver. The man took Cathy
up. She was sick---not from fear, I'm certain, but from
pain. He carried her in. I followed, grumbling execra-
tions and vengeance. 'What prey, Robert?' hallooed
Linton from the entrance. 'Skulker has caught a little
girl, sir,' he replied; 'and there's a lad here,' he added,
making a clutch at me, 'who looks an out-and-outer.
Very like, the robbers were for putting them through
the window to open the doors to the gang after all were
asleep, that they might murder us at their ease---Hold
your tongue, you foul-mouthed thief, you! You shall
go to the gallows for this---Mr. Linton, sir, don't lay
by your gun.' 'No, no, Robert,' said the old fool. 'The
rascals knew that yesterday was my rent-day. They

thought to have me cleverly. Come in; I'll furnish them
a reception.----There, John, fasten the chain---Give
Skulker some water, Jenny. To beard a magistrate in
his stronghold, and on the Sabbath, too! Where will
their insolence stop?---Oh, my dear Mary, look here!
Don't be afraid; it is but a boy, yet the villain scowls
so plainly in his face; would it not be a kindness to the
country to hang him at once, before he shows his nature
in acts as well as features?' He pulled me under the
chandelier, and Mrs. Linton placed her spectacles on
her nose and raised her hands in horror. The cowardly
children crept nearer also, Isabella lisping, 'Frightful
thing! Put him in the cellar, papa. He's exactly like the
son of the fortune-teller that stole my tame pheasant.
---Isn't he, Edgar?'

     "While they examined me Cathy came round. She
heard the last speech, and laughed. Edgar Linton, after
an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient wit to recognize
her. They see us at church, you know, though we sel-
dom meet them elsewhere. 'That's Miss Earnshaw!'
he whispered to his mother; 'and look how Skulker
has bitten her---how her foot bleeds!'

     " 'Miss Earnshaw! Nonsense!' cried the dame;
'Miss Earnshaw scouring the country with a gipsy!
And yet, my dear, the child is in mourning. Surely it
is. And she may be lamed for life.'

     " 'What culpable carelessness in her brother!' ex-
claimed Mr. Linton, turning from me to Catherine.
'I've understood from Shielders' " (that was the curate,

sir) " 'that he lets her grow up in absolute heathenism.
But who is this? Where did she pick up this compan-
ion? Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition my
late neighbour made in his journey to Liverpool---a
little Lascar, or an American or Spanish castaway.'

     " 'A wicked boy, at all events,' remarked the old
lady, 'and quite unfit for a decent house! Did you notice
his language, Linton? I'm shocked that my children
should have heard it.'

     "I recommenced cursing---don't be angry, Nelly---
and so Robert was ordered to take me off. I refused to
go without Cathy. He dragged me into the garden,
pushed the lantern into my hand, assured me that Mr.
Earnshaw should be informed of my behaviour, and
bidding me march directly, secured the door again.
The curtains were still looped up at one corner, and I
resumed my station as spy; because, if Catherine had
wished to return, I intended shattering their great glass
panes to a million of fragments, unless they let her out.
She sat on the sofa quietly. Mrs. Linton took off the
gray cloak of the dairymaid which we had borrowed
for our excursion, shaking her head and expostulating
with her, I suppose. She was a young lady, and they
made a distinction between her treatment and mine.
Then the woman-servant brought a basin of warm
water, and washed her feet; and Mr. Linton mixed a
tumbler of negus, and Isabella emptied a plateful of
cakes into her lap, and Edgar stood gaping at a distance.
Afterwards they dried and combed her beautiful hair,

and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled
her to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be,
dividing her food between the little dog and Skulker,
whose nose she pinched as he ate, and kindling a spark
of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons---a dim
reflection from her own enchanting face. I saw they
were full of stupid admiration; she is so immeasurably
superior to them---to everybody on earth, is she not,
Nelly?"

     "There will more come of this business than you
reckon on," I answered, covering him up and extin-
guishing the light. "You are incurable, Heathcliff; and
Mr. Hindley will have to proceed to extremities---see
if he won't." My words came truer than I desired. The
luckless adventure made Earnshaw furious. And then
Mr. Linton, to mend manners, paid us a visit himself
on the morrow, and read the young master such a lec-
ture on the road he guided his family that he was stirred
to look about him in earnest. Heathcliff received no
flogging, but he was told that the first word he spoke to
Miss Catherine should ensure a dismissal; and Mrs.
Earnshaw undertook to keep her sister-in-law in due
restraint when she returned home, employing art, not
force. With force she would have found it impossible.
CHAPTER VII.

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks----
till Christmas. By that time her ankle was thor-
oughly cured, and her manners much improved. The
mistress visited her often in the interval, and com-
menced her plan of reform by trying to raise her self-
respect with fine clothes and flattery, which she took
readily; so that, instead of a wild, hatless little savage
jumping into the house, and rushing to squeeze us all
breathless, there lighted from a handsome black pony
a very dignified person, with brown ringlets falling
from the cover of a feathered beaver, and a long cloth
habit, which she was obliged to hold up with both
hands, that she might sail in. Hindley lifted her from
her horse, exclaiming delightedly, "Why, Cathy, you
are quite a beauty! I should scarcely have known you.
You look like a lady now---Isabella Linton is not to be
compared with her, is she, Frances?"

     "Isabella has not her natural advantages," replied
his wife; "but she must mind and not grow wild again
here---Ellen, help Miss Catherine off with her things.
---Stay, dear; you will disarrange your curls. Let me
untie your hat."

     I removed the habit, and there shone forth beneath
a grand plaid silk frock, white trousers, and burnished
shoes; and while her eyes sparkled joyfully when the
dogs came bounding up to welcome her, she dare hardly
touch them lest they should fawn upon her splendid
garments. She kissed me gently. I was all flour making

the Christmas cake, and it would not have done to give
me a hug; and then she looked round for Heathcliff.
Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw watched anxiously their meet-
ing, thinking it would enable them to judge, in some
measure, what grounds they had for hoping to suc-
ceed in separating the two friends.

     Heathcliff was hard to discover at first. If he were
careless and uncared for before Catherine's absence,
he had been ten times more so since. Nobody but I even
did him the kindness to call him a dirty boy, and bid
him wash himself, once a week; and children of his age
seldom have a natural pleasure in soap and water.
Therefore, not to mention his clothes, which had seen
three months' service in mire and dust, and his thick
uncombed hair, the surface of his face and hands was
dismally beclouded. He might well skulk behind the
settle, on beholding such a bright, graceful damsel en-
ter the house, instead of a rough-headed counterpart
of himself, as he expected. "Is Heathcliff not here?" she
demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying fin-
gers wonderfully whitened with doing nothing and
staying indoors.

     "Heathcliff, you may come forward," cried Mr. Hind-
ley, enjoying his discomfiture, and gratified to see what
a forbidding young blackguard he would be compelled
to present himself. "You may come and wish Miss
Catherine welcome, like the other servants."

     Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his con-
cealment, flew to embrace him. She bestowed seven or

eight kisses on his cheek within the second, and then
stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaim-
ing, "Why, how very black and cross you look! and
how---how funny and grim! But that's because I'm
used to Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff,
have you forgotten me?"

     She had some reason to put the question, for shame
and pride threw double gloom over his countenance,
and kept him immovable.

     "Shake hands, Heathcliff," said Mr. Earnshaw, con-
descendingly; "once in away that is permitted."

     "I shall not," replied the boy, finding his tongue at
last; "I shall not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear
it."

     And he would have broken from the circle, but Miss
Cathy seized him again.

     "I did not mean to laugh at you," she said; "I could
not hinder myself. Heathcliff, shake hands at least.
What are you sulky for? It was only that you looked
odd. If you wash your face and brush your hair it will
be all right; but you are so dirty!"

     She gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers she held
in her own, and also at her dress, which she feared had
gained no embellishment from its contact with his.

     "You needn't have touched me," he answered, fol-
lowing her eye and snatching away his hand. "I shall
be as dirty as I please; and I like to be dirty, and I will
be dirty."

     With that he dashed head foremost out of the room,
amid the merriment of the master and mistress, and to
the serious disturbance of Catherine, who could not
comprehend how her remarks should have produced
such an exhibition of bad temper.

     After playing lady's-maid to the newcomer, and put-
ting my cakes in the oven, and making the house and
kitchen cheerful with great fires, befitting Christmas
Eve, I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by sing-
ing carols all alone, regardless of Joseph's affirmations
that he considered the merry tunes I chose as next door
to songs. He had retired to private prayer in his cham-
ber, and Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw were engaging Missy's
attention by sundry gay trifles bought for her to present
to the little Lintons, as an acknowledgment of their
kindness. They had invited them to spend the morrow
at Wuthering Heights, and the invitation had been ac-
cepted, on one condition. Mrs. Linton begged that her
darlings might be kept carefully apart from that
"naughty, swearing boy."

     Under these circumstances I remained solitary. I
smelt the rich scent of the heating spices, and admired
the shining kitchen utensils, the polished clock, decked
in holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray ready to be
filled with mulled ale for supper, and, above all, the

speckless purity of my particular care---the scoured
and well-swept floor. I gave due inward applause to
every object, and then I remembered how old Earn-
shaw used to come in when all was tidied, and call me
a cant lass, and slip a shilling into my hand as a Christ-
mas-box; and from that I went on to think of his fond-
ness for Heathcliff, and his dread lest he should suffer
neglect after death had removed him; and that natur-
ally led me to consider the poor lad's situation now, and
from singing I changed my mind to crying. It struck me
soon, however, there would be more sense in endeav-
ouring to repair some of his wrongs than shedding tears
over them. I got up and walked into the court to seek
him. He was not far. I found him smoothing the glossy
coat of the new pony in the stable, and feeding the other
beasts, according to custom.

     "Make haste, Heathcliff!" I said; "the kitchen is so
comfortable, and Joseph is upstairs. Make haste, and
let me dress you smart before Miss Cathy comes out,
and then you can sit together, with the whole hearth
to yourselves, and have a long chatter till bedtime."

     He proceeded with his task, and never turned his
head towards me.

     "Come; are you coming?" I continued. "There's a
little cake for each of you, nearly enough; and you'll
need half an hour's donning."'

     I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him.
Catherine supped with her brother and sister-in-law.

Joseph and I joined at an unsociable meal, seasoned
with reproofs on one side and sauciness on the other.
His cake and cheese remained on the table all night for
the fairies. He managed to continue work till nine
o'clock, and then marched dumb and dour to his
chamber. Cathy sat up late, having a world of things
to order for the reception of her new friends. She came
into the kitchen once to speak to her old one; but he
was gone, and she only stayed to ask what was the mat-
ter with him, and then went back. In the morning he
rose early; and as it was a holiday carried his ill-hu-
mour on to the moors, not reappearing till the family
were departed for church. Fasting and reflection seemed
to have brought him to a better spirit. He hung about
me for a while, and having screwed up his courage, ex-
claimed abruptly,---

     "Nelly, make me decent; I'm going to be good."

     "High time, Heathcliff," I said; "you have grieved
Catherine. She's sorry she ever came home, I dare say.
It looks as if you envied her because she is more thought
of than you."

     The notion of envying Catherine was incomprehen-
sible to him, but the notion of grieving her he under-
stood clearly enough.

     "Did she say she was grieved?" he inquired, looking
very serious.

     "She cried when I told her you were off again this
morning."

     "Well, I cried last night," he returned, "and I had
more reason to cry than she."

     "Yes. You had the reason of going to bed with a
proud heart and an empty stomach," said I. "Proud
people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But, if you
be ashamed of your touchiness, you must ask pardon,
mind, when she comes in. You must go up and offer
to kiss her, and say---you know best what to say; only
do it heartily, and not as if you thought her converted
into a stranger by her grand dress. And now, though I
have dinner to get ready, I'll steal time to arrange you
so that Edgar Linton shall look quite a doll beside you;
and that he does. You are younger, and yet, I'll be
bound, you are taller and twice as broad across the
shoulders. You could knock him down in a twinkling.
Don't you feel that you could?"

     Heathcliff's face brightened a moment; then it was
overcast afresh, and he sighed.

     "But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times,
that wouldn't make him less handsome or me more so.
I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed
and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich
as he will be."

     "And cried for mamma at every turn," I added,
"and trembled if a country lad heaved his fist against
you, and sat at home all day for a shower of rain. Oh,
Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to
the glass, and I'll let you see what you should wish. Do
you mark those two lines between your eyes; and those
thick brows that, instead of rising arched, sink in the
middle; and that couple of black fiends, so deeply bur-
ied, who never open their windows boldly, but lurk
glinting under them, like devil's spies? Wish and learn
to smooth away the surly wrinkles, to raise your lids
frankly, and change the fiends to confident, innocent
angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always
seeing friends where they are not sure of foes. Don't
get the expression of a vicious cur that appears to know
the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet hates all the
world as well as the kicker for what it suffers."

     "In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's
great blue eyes and even forehead," he replied. "I do,
and that won't help me to them."

     "A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my
lad," I continued, "if you were a regular black; and a
bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse
than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and
combing, and sulking, tell me whether you don't think
yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you I do. You're fit
for a prince in disguise. Who knows but your father
was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian
queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week's
income, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange

together? And you were kidnapped by wicked sailors
and brought to England. Were I in your place, I would
frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of
what I was should give me courage and dignity to sup-
port the oppressions of a little farmer."

     So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his
frown and began to look quite pleasant, when all at
once our conversation was interrupted by a rumbling
sound moving up the road and entering the court. He
ran to the window and I to the door, just in time to be-
hold the two Lintons descend from the family carriage,
smothered in cloaks and furs, and the Earnshaws dis-
mount from their horses. They often rode to church
in winter. Catherine took a hand of each of the chil-
dren, and brought them into the house and set them be-
fore the fire, which quickly put colour into their white
faces.

     I urged my companion to hasten now and show his
amiable humour, and he willingly obeyed; but ill luck
would have it that, as he opened the door leading from
the kitchen on one side, Hindley opened it on the other.
They met, and the master, irritated at seeing him clean
and cheerful, or, perhaps, eager to keep his promise to
Mrs. Linton, shoved him back with a sudden thrust,
and angrily bade Joseph "keep the fellow out of the
room; send him into the garret till dinner is over. He'll
be cramming his fingers in the tarts and stealing the
fruit, if left alone with them a minute."

     "Nay, sir," I could not avoid answering; "he'll touch
nothing----not he; and I suppose he must have his share
of the dainties as well as we."

     "He shall have his share of my hand if I catch him
downstairs till dark," cried Hindley---"Begone, you
vagabond! What! you are attempting the coxcomb, are
you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks; see if I
won't pull them a bit longer."

     "They are long enough already," observed Master
Linton, peeping from the doorway; "I wonder they
don't make his head ache. It's like a colt's mane over
his eyes."

     He ventured this remark without any intention to
insult; but Heathcliff's violent nature was not prepared
to endure the appearance of impertinence from one
whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He
seized a tureen of hot apple sauce---the first thing that
came under his gripe---and dashed it full against the
speaker's face and neck, who instantly commenced a
lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying
to the place. Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit di-
rectly, and conveyed him to his chamber, where,
doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool
the fit of passion, for he appeared red and breathless. I
got the dish-cloth, and rather spitefully scrubbed
Edgar's nose and mouth, affirming it served him right
for meddling. His sister began weeping to go home,
and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.

     "You should not have spoken to him!" she expos-
tulated with Master Linton. "He was in a bad temper;
and now you've spoilt your visit, and he'll be flogged.
I hate him to be flogged. I can't eat my dinner. Why
did you speak to him, Edgar?"

     "I didn't," sobbed the youth, escaping from my
hands and finishing the remainder of the purifica-
tion with his cambric pocket-handkerchief. "I promised
mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I
didn't."

     "Well, don't cry," replied Catherine contemptu-
ously; "you're not killed. Don't make more mischief.
My brother is coming; be quiet!---Hush, Isabella! Has
anybody hurt you?"

     "There, there, children; to your seats," cried Hind-
ley, bustling in. "That brute of a lad has warmed me
nicely. Next time, Master Edgar, take the law into your
own fists; it will give you an appetite."

     The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of
the fragrant feast. They were hungry after their ride,
and easily consoled, since no real harm had befallen
them. Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls, and
the mistress made them merry with lively talk. I waited
behind her chair, and was pained to behold Catherine,
with dry eyes and an indifferent air, commence cutting
up the wing of a goose before her. "An unfeeling child,"
I thought to myself; "how lightly she dismisses her old
playmate's troubles! I could not have imagined her to

be so selfish." She lifted a mouthful to her lips, then she
set it down again; her cheeks flushed, and the tears
gushed over them. She slipped her fork to the floor, and
hastily dived under the cloth to conceal her emotion.
I did not call her unfeeling long, for I perceived she was
in purgatory throughout the day, and wearying to find
an opportunity of getting by herself, or paying a visit to
Heathcliff, who had been locked up by the master, as
I discovered, on endeavouring to introduce to him a
private mess of victuals.

     In the evening we had a dance. Cathy begged that
he might be liberated then, as Isabella Linton had no
partner. Her entreaties were vain, and I was appointed
to supply the deficiency. We got rid of all gloom in the
excitement of the exercise, and our pleasure was in-
creased by the arrival of the Gimmerton band, muster-
ing fifteen strong---a trumpet, a trombone, clarionets,
bassoons, French horns, and a bass viol, besides singers.
They go the rounds of all the respectable houses, and
receive contributions every Christmas, and we esteemed
it a first-rate treat to hear them. After the usual carols
had been sung, we set them to songs and glees. Mrs.
Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave us plenty.

     Catherine loved it too, but she said it sounded sweet-
est at the top of the steps, and she went up in the dark;
I followed. They shut the house door below, never
noting our absence, it was so full of people. She made
no stay at the stairs' head, but mounted farther to the
garret where Heathcliff was confined, and called him.
He stubbornly declined answering for a while; she per-

severed, and finally persuaded him to hold communion
with her through the boards. I let the poor things con-
verse unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going
to cease, and the singers to get some refreshment; then
I clambered up the ladder to warn her. Instead of find-
ing her outside, I heard her voice within. The little
monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret, along
the roof, into the skylight of the other, and it was with
the utmost difficulty I could coax her out again. When
she did come, Heathcliff came with her, and she in-
sisted that I should take him into the kitchen, as my fel-
low-servant had gone to a neighbour's to be removed
from the sound of our "devil's psalmody," as it pleased
him to call it. I told them I intended by no means to
encourage their tricks, but as the prisoner had never
broken his fast since yesterday's dinner, I would wink
at his cheating Mr. Hindley that once. He went down.
I set him a stool by the fire, and offered him a quantity
of good things; but he was sick, and could eat littie, and
my attempts to entertain him were thrown away. He
leant his two elbows on his knees, and his chin on his
hands, and remained wrapt in dumb meditation. On
my inquiring the subject of his thoughts he answered
gravely,---

     "I'm trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I
don't care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I
hope he will not die before I do!"

     "For shame, Heathcliff!" said I "It is for God to
punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive."

     "No; God won't have the satisfaction that I shall,"
he returned. "I only wish I knew the best way. Let me
alone, and I'll plan it out; while I'm thinking of that I
don't feel pain."

     But, Mr. Lockwood, I forget these tales cannot divert
you. I'm annoyed how I should dream of chattering on
at such a rate, and your gruel cold, and you nodding
for bed! I could have told Heathcliff's history---all
that you need hear---in half a dozen words.

     Thus interrupting herself, the housekeeper rose and
proceeded to lay aside her sewing; but I felt incapable
of moving from the hearth, and I was very far from
nodding. "Sit still, Mrs. Dean," I cried, "do sit still an-
other half-hour! You've done just right to tell the story
leisurely---that is the method I like; and you must fin-
ish it in the same style. I am interested in every charac-
ter you have mentioned, more or less."

     "The clock is on the stroke of eleven, sir."

     "No matter. I'm not accustomed to go to bed in the
long hours. One or two is early enough for a person
who lies till ten."

     "You shouldn't lie till ten. There's the very prime of
the morning gone long before that time. A person who
has not done one half his day's work by ten o'clock
runs a chance of leaving the other half undone."

     "Nevertheless, Mrs. Dean, resume your chair, be-
cause to-morrow I intend lengthening the night till
afternoon. I prognosticate for myself an obstinate cold,
at least."

     "I hope not, sir. Well, you must allow me to leap over
some three years. During that space Mrs. Earn-
shaw---"

     "No, no; I'll allow nothing of the sort. Are you ac-
quainted with the mood of mind in which, if you were
seated alone, and the cat licking its kitten on the rug
before you, you would watch the operation so intently
that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously
out of temper?"

     "A terribly lazy mood, I should say."

     "On the contrary, a tiresomely active one. It is mine
at present; and, therefore, continue minutely. I per-
ceive that people in these regions acquire over people
in towns the value that a spider in a dungeon does over
a spider in a cottage, to their various occupants; and
yet the deepened attraction is not entirely owing to the
situation of the looker-on. They do live more in earnest,
more in themselves, and less in surface, change, and
frivolous external things. I could fancy a love for life
here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever in
any love of a year's standing. One state resembles set-
ting a hungry man down to a single dish, on which he
may concentrate his entire appetite and do it justice;
the other, introducing him to a table laid out by French

cooks. He can perhaps extract as much enjoyment
from the whole, but each part is a mere atom in his re-
gard and remembrance."

     "Oh, here we are the same as anywhere else, when
you get to know us," observed Mrs. Dean, somewhat
puzzled at my speech.

     "Excuse me," I responded. "You, my good friend,
are a striking evidence against that assertion. Except-
ing a few provincialisms of slight consequence, you
have no marks of the manners which I am habituated
to consider as peculiar to your class. I am sure you
have thought a great deal more than the generality
of servants think. You have been compelled to cultivate
your reflective faculties, for want of occasions for frit-
tering your life away in silly trifles."

     Mrs. Dean laughed.
     
     "I certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind
of body," she said--"not exactly from living among
the hills and seeing one set of faces and one series of
actions from year's end to year's end, but I have under-
gone sharp discipline, which has taught me wisdom;
and then, I have read more than you would fancy, Mr.
Lockwood. You could not open a book in this library
that I have not looked into, and got something out of
also---unless it be that range of Greek and Latin, and
that of French; and those I know one from another. It
is as much as you can expect of a poor man's daughter.
However, if I am to follow my story in true gossip's

fashion, I had better go on; and instead of leaping three
years, I will be content to pass to the next summer
---the summer of 1778; that is nearly twenty-three
years ago."
CHAPTER VIII.

On the morning of a fine June day my first bonny
little nursling, and the last of the ancient Earn-
shaw stock, was born. We were busy with the hay in a
far-away field when the girl that usually brought our
breakfasts came running an hour too soon, across the
meadow and up the lane, calling me as she ran.

     "Oh, such a grand bairn!" she panted out. "The
finest lad that ever breathed! But the doctor says missis
must go. He says she's been in a consumption these
many months. I heard him tell Mr. Hindley; and now
she has nothing to keep her, and she'll be dead before
winter. You must come home directly. You're to nurse
it, Nelly---to feed it with sugar and milk, and take care
of it day and night. I wish I were you, because it will be
all yours when there is no missis!"

     "But is she very ill?" I asked, flinging down my rake
and tying my bonnet.

     "I guess she is; yet she looks bravely," replied the
girl, "and she talks as if she thought of living to see it
grow a man. She's out of her head for joy, it's such a
beauty! If I were her, I'm certain I should not die; I
should get better at the bare sight of it, in spite of Ken-
neth. I was fairly mad at him. Dame Archer brought
the cherub down to master, in the house, and his face
just began to light up, when the old croaker steps for-
ward, and says he, 'Earnshaw, it's a blessing your wife
has been spared to leave you this son. When she came,

I felt convinced we shouldn't keep her long; and now,
I must tell you, the winter will probably finish her.
Don't take on and fret about it too much. It can't be
helped. And besides, you should have known better than    
to choose such a rush of a lass!' "

     "And what did the master answer?" I inquired.

     "I think he swore; but I didn't mind him---I was
straining to see the bairn." And she began again to de-
scribe it rapturously. I, as zealous as herself, hurried
eagerly home to admire, on my part, though I was very
sad for Hindley's sake. He had room in his heart only
for two idols---his wife and himself. He doted on both,
and adored one, and I couldn't conceive how he would
bear the loss.

     When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at
the front door; and, as I passed in, I asked, "How was
the baby?"

     "Nearly ready to run about, Nell!" he replied, put-
ting on a cheerful smile.

     "And the mistress?" I ventured to inquire; "the doc-
tor says she's------"

     "Damn the doctor!" he interrupted, reddening.
"Frances is quite right; she'll be perfectly well by this
time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell
her that I'll come, if she'll promise not to talk. I left

her because she would not hold her tongue; and she
must. Tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be quiet."

     I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw. She
seemed in flighty spirits, and replied merrily,---

     "I hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there he has gone
out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I won't speak; but
that does not bind me not to laugh at him."

     Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that gay
heart never failed her, and her husband persisted dog-
gedly---nay, furiously---in affirming her health im-
proved every day. When Kenneth warned him that his
medicines were useless at that stage of the malady, and
he needn't put him to further expense by attending her,
he retorted,---

     "I know you need not; she's well---she does not
want any more attendance from you! She never was
in a consumption. It was a fever, and it is gone; her
pulse is as slow as mine now, and her cheek as cool."

     He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to
believe him; but one night, while leaning on his shoul-
der in the act of saying she thought she should be able
to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her---a very
slight one. He raised her in his arms; she put her two
hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was
dead.

     As the girl had anticipated, the child Hareton fell
wholly into my hands. Mr. Earnshaw, provided he saw
him healthy, and never heard him cry, was contented, as
far as regarded him. For himself, he grew desperate;
his sorrow was of that kind that will not lament. He
neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied---exe-
crated God and man, and gave himself up to reckless
dissipation. The servants could not bear his tyrannical
and evil conduct long. Joseph and I were the only two
that would stay. I had not the heart to leave my charge;
and besides, you know I had been his foster-sister, and
excused his behaviour more readily than a stranger
would. Joseph remained to hector over tenants and
labourers, and because it was his vocation to be where
he had plenty of wickedness to reprove.

     The master's bad ways and bad companions formed
a pretty example for Catherine and Heathcliff. His treat-
ment of the latter was enough to make a fiend of a saint.
And, truly, it appeared as if the lad were possessed
of something diabolical at that period. He delighted to
witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption,
and became daily more notable for savage sullenness
and ferocity. I could not half tell what an infernal house
we had. The curate dropped calling, and nobody decent
came near us at last, unless Edgar Linton's visits to Miss
Cathy might be an exception. At fifteen she was the
queen of the countryside; she had no peer, and she did
turn out a haughty, headstrong creature! I own I did
not like her after her infancy was past, and I vexed her
frequently by trying to bring down her arrogance; she
never took an aversion to me, though. She had a won-

drous constancy to old attachments---even Heathcliff
kept his hold on her affections unalterably; and young
Linton, with all his superiority, found it difficult to
make an equally deep impression. He was my late mas-
ter; that is his portrait over the fireplace. It used to hang
on one side, and his wife's on the other; but hers has
been removed, or else you might see something of what
she was. Can you make that out?

     Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I discerned a soft-
featured face, exceedingly resembling the young lady
at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in ex-
pression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair
curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and
serious, the figure almost too graceful. I did not marvel
how Catherine Earnshaw could forget her first friend
for such an individual. I marvelled much how he,
with a mind to correspond with his person, could fancy
my idea of Catherine Earnshaw.

     "A very agreeable portrait," I observed to the house-
keeper. "Is it like?"

     "Yes," she answered; "but