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Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 873 | “You shall not to-night!” answered Linton decisively. “Walk down stairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, show him down. Go—” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 874 | And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of him and closed the door. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 875 | “Varrah weell!” shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. “To-morn, he’s come hisseln, and thrust him out, if ye darr!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 876 | To obviate the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Linton commissioned me to take the boy home early, on Catherine’s pony; and, said he—“As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good or bad, you must say nothing of where he is gone to my daughter: she cannot associate with him hereafter, and it is better for her to remain in ignorance of his proximity; lest she should be restless, and anxious to visit the Heights. Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us.”
Linton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o’clock, and astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling; but I softened off the matter by stating that he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he did not like to defer the pleasure till he should recover from his late journey. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 877 | “My father!” he cried, in strange perplexity. “Mamma never told me I had a father. Where does he live? I’d rather stay with uncle.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 878 | “He lives a little distance from the Grange,” I replied; “just beyond those hills: not so far, but you may walk over here when you get hearty. And you should be glad to go home, and to see him. You must try to love him, as you did your mother, and then he will love you.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 879 | “But why have I not heard of him before?” asked Linton. “Why didn’t mamma and he live together, as other people do?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 880 | “He had business to keep him in the north,” I answered, “and your mother’s health required her to reside in the south.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 881 | “And why didn’t mamma speak to me about him?” persevered the child. “She often talked of uncle, and I learnt to love him long ago. How am I to love papa? I don’t know him.”
“Oh, all children love their parents,” I said. “Your mother, perhaps, thought you would want to be with him if she mentioned him often to you. Let us make haste. An early ride on such a beautiful morning is much preferable to an hour’s more sleep.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 882 | “Is she to go with us,” he demanded, “the little girl I saw yesterday?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 883 | “Not now,” replied I. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 884 | “Is uncle?” he continued. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 885 | “No, I shall be your companion there,” I said. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 886 | Linton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown study. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 887 | “I won’t go without uncle,” he cried at length: “I can’t tell where you mean to take me.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 888 | I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meet his father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and I had to call for my master’s assistance in coaxing him out of bed. The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way. The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny, relieved his despondency after a while. He began to put questions concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 889 | “Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange?” he inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mist mounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.
“It is not so buried in trees,” I replied, “and it is not quite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is healthier for you—fresher and drier. You will, perhaps, think the building old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house: the next best in the neighbourhood. And you will have such nice rambles on the moors. Hareton Earnshaw—that is, Miss Cathy’s other cousin, and so yours in a manner—will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your study; and, now and then, your uncle may join you in a walk: he does, frequently, walk out on the hills.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 890 | “And what is my father like?” he asked. “Is he as young and handsome as uncle?”
“He’s as young,” said I; “but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether. He’ll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way: still, mind you, be frank and cordial with him; and naturally he’ll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own.”
“Black hair and eyes!” mused Linton. “I can’t fancy him. Then I am not like him, am I?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 891 | “Not much,” I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes—his mother’s eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 892 | “How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!” he murmured. “Has he ever seen me? If he has, I must have been a baby. I remember not a single thing about him!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 893 | “Why, Master Linton,” said I, “three hundred miles is a great distance; and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up person compared with what they do to you. It is probable Mr. Heathcliff proposed going from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity; and now it is too late. Don’t trouble him with questions on the subject: it will disturb him, for no good.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 894 | The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden-gate. I watched to catch his impressions in his countenance. He surveyed the carved front and low-browed lattices, the straggling gooseberry-bushes and crooked firs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head: his private feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of his new abode. But he had sense to postpone complaining: there might be compensation within. Before he dismounted, I went and opened the door. It was half-past six; the family had just finished breakfast: the servant was clearing and wiping down the table. Joseph stood by his master’s chair telling some tale concerning a lame horse; and Hareton was preparing for the hayfield. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 895 | “Hallo, Nelly!” said Mr. Heathcliff, when he saw me. “I feared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself. You’ve brought it, have you? Let us see what we can make of it.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 896 | He got up and strode to the door: Hareton and Joseph followed in gaping curiosity. Poor Linton ran a frightened eye over the faces of the three. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 897 | “Sure-ly,” said Joseph after a grave inspection, “he’s swopped wi’ ye, Maister, an’ yon’s his lass!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 898 | Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of confusion, uttered a scornful laugh. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 899 | “God! what a beauty! what a lovely, charming thing!” he exclaimed. “Hav’n’t they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nelly? Oh, damn my soul! but that’s worse than I expected—and the devil knows I was not sanguine!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 900 | I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down, and enter. He did not thoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father’s speech, or whether it were intended for him: indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father. But he clung to me with growing trepidation; and on Mr. Heathcliff’s taking a seat and bidding him “come hither” he hid his face on my shoulder and wept.
“Tut, tut!” said Heathcliff, stretching out a hand and dragging him roughly between his knees, and then holding up his head by the chin. “None of that nonsense! We’re not going to hurt thee, Linton—isn’t that thy name? Thou art thy mother’s child, entirely! Where is my share in thee, puling chicken?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 901 | He took off the boy’s cap and pushed back his thick flaxen curls, felt his slender arms and his small fingers; during which examination Linton ceased crying, and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 902 | “Do you know me?” asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that the limbs were all equally frail and feeble. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 903 | “No,” said Linton, with a gaze of vacant fear. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 904 | “You’ve heard of me, I daresay?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 905 | “No,” he replied again. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 906 | “No! What a shame of your mother, never to waken your filial regard for me! You are my son, then, I’ll tell you; and your mother was a wicked slut to leave you in ignorance of the sort of father you possessed. Now, don’t wince, and colour up! Though it is something to see you have not white blood. Be a good lad; and I’ll do for you. Nelly, if you be tired you may sit down; if not, get home again. I guess you’ll report what you hear and see to the cipher at the Grange; and this thing won’t be settled while you linger about it.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 907 | “Well,” replied I, “I hope you’ll be kind to the boy, Mr. Heathcliff, or you’ll not keep him long; and he’s all you have akin in the wide world, that you will ever know—remember.”
“I’ll be very kind to him, you needn’t fear,” he said, laughing. “Only nobody else must be kind to him: I’m jealous of monopolising his affection. And, to begin my kindness, Joseph, bring the lad some breakfast. Hareton, you infernal calf, begone to your work. Yes, Nell,” he added, when they had departed, “my son is prospective owner of your place, and I should not wish him to die till I was certain of being his successor. Besides, he’s mine, and I want the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children to till their fathers’ lands for wages. That is the sole consideration which can make me endure the whelp: I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives! But that consideration is sufficient: he’s as safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master tends his own. I have a room upstairs, furnished for him in handsome style; I’ve engaged a tutor, also, to come three times a week, from twenty miles’ distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn. I’ve ordered Hareton to obey him: and in fact I’ve arranged everything with a view to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the trouble: if I wished any blessing in the world, it was to find him a worthy object of pride; and I’m bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced, whining wretch!”
While he was speaking, Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk-porridge, and placed it before Linton: who stirred round the homely mess with a look of aversion, and affirmed he could not eat it. I saw the old man-servant shared largely in his master’s scorn of the child; though he was compelled to retain the sentiment in his heart, because Heathcliff plainly meant his underlings to hold him in honour.
“Cannot ate it?” repeated he, peering in Linton’s face, and subduing his voice to a whisper, for fear of being overheard. “But Maister Hareton nivir ate naught else, when he wer a little ’un; and what wer gooid eneugh for him’s gooid eneugh for ye, I’s rayther think!”
“I sha’n’t eat it!” answered Linton, snappishly. “Take it away.”
Joseph snatched up the food indignantly, and brought it to us. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 908 | “Is there aught ails th’ victuals?” he asked, thrusting the tray under Heathcliff’s nose.
“What should ail them?” he said. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 909 | “Wah!” answered Joseph, “yon dainty chap says he cannut ate ’em. But I guess it’s raight! His mother wer just soa—we wer a’most too mucky to sow t’ corn for makking her breead.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 910 | “Don’t mention his mother to me,” said the master, angrily. “Get him something that he can eat, that’s all. What is his usual food, Nelly?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 911 | I suggested boiled milk or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions to prepare some. Come, I reflected, his father’s selfishness may contribute to his comfort. He perceives his delicate constitution, and the necessity of treating him tolerably. I’ll console Mr. Edgar by acquainting him with the turn Heathcliff’s humour has taken. Having no excuse for lingering longer, I slipped out, while Linton was engaged in timidly rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog. But he was too much on the alert to be cheated: as I closed the door, I heard a cry, and a frantic repetition of the words— |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 912 | “Don’t leave me! I’ll not stay here! I’ll not stay here!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 913 | Then the latch was raised and fell: they did not suffer him to come forth. I mounted Minny, and urged her to a trot; and so my brief guardianship ended. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 914 | We had sad work with little Cathy that day: she rose in high glee, eager to join her cousin, and such passionate tears and lamentations followed the news of his departure that Edgar himself was obliged to soothe her, by affirming he should come back soon: he added, however, “if I can get him”; and there were no hopes of that. This promise poorly pacified her; but time was more potent; and though still at intervals she inquired of her father when Linton would return, before she did see him again his features had waxed so dim in her memory that she did not recognise him.
When I chanced to encounter the housekeeper of Wuthering Heights, in paying business visits to Gimmerton, I used to ask how the young master got on; for he lived almost as secluded as Catherine herself, and was never to be seen. I could gather from her that he continued in weak health, and was a tiresome inmate. She said Mr. Heathcliff seemed to dislike him ever longer and worse, though he took some trouble to conceal it: he had an antipathy to the sound of his voice, and could not do at all with his sitting in the same room with him many minutes together. There seldom passed much talk between them: Linton learnt his lessons and spent his evenings in a small apartment they called the parlour: or else lay in bed all day: for he was constantly getting coughs, and colds, and aches, and pains of some sort.
“And I never knew such a faint-hearted creature,” added the woman; “nor one so careful of hisseln. He will go on, if I leave the window open a bit late in the evening. Oh! it’s killing, a breath of night air! And he must have a fire in the middle of summer; and Joseph’s bacca-pipe is poison; and he must always have sweets and dainties, and always milk, milk for ever—heeding naught how the rest of us are pinched in winter; and there he’ll sit, wrapped in his furred cloak in his chair by the fire, with some toast and water or other slop on the hob to sip at; and if Hareton, for pity, comes to amuse him—Hareton is not bad-natured, though he’s rough—they’re sure to part, one swearing and the other crying. I believe the master would relish Earnshaw’s thrashing him to a mummy, if he were not his son; and I’m certain he would be fit to turn him out of doors, if he knew half the nursing he gives hisseln. But then he won’t go into danger of temptation: he never enters the parlour, and should Linton show those ways in the house where he is, he sends him upstairs directly.”
I divined, from this account, that utter lack of sympathy had rendered young Heathcliff selfish and disagreeable, if he were not so originally; and my interest in him, consequently, decayed: though still I was moved with a sense of grief at his lot, and a wish that he had been left with us. Mr. Edgar encouraged me to gain information: he thought a great deal about him, I fancy, and would have run some risk to see him; and he told me once to ask the housekeeper whether he ever came into the village? She said he had only been twice, on horseback, accompanying his father; and both times he pretended to be quite knocked up for three or four days afterwards. That housekeeper left, if I recollect rightly, two years after he came; and another, whom I did not know, was her successor; she lives there still.
Time wore on at the Grange in its former pleasant way till Miss Cathy reached sixteen. On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs of rejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress’s death. Her father invariably spent that day alone in the library; and walked, at dusk, as far as Gimmerton kirkyard, where he would frequently prolong his stay beyond midnight. Therefore Catherine was thrown on her own resources for amusement. This twentieth of March was a beautiful spring day, and when her father had retired, my young lady came down dressed for going out, and said she asked to have a ramble on the edge of the moor with me: Mr. Linton had given her leave, if we went only a short distance and were back within the hour. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 915 | “So make haste, Ellen!” she cried. “I know where I wish to go; where a colony of moor-game are settled: I want to see whether they have made their nests yet.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 916 | “That must be a good distance up,” I answered; “they don’t breed on the edge of the moor.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 917 | “No, it’s not,” she said. “I’ve gone very near with papa.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 918 | I put on my bonnet and sallied out, thinking nothing more of the matter. She bounded before me, and returned to my side, and was off again like a young greyhound; and, at first, I found plenty of entertainment in listening to the larks singing far and near, and enjoying the sweet, warm sunshine; and watching her, my pet and my delight, with her golden ringlets flying loose behind, and her bright cheek, as soft and pure in its bloom as a wild rose, and her eyes radiant with cloudless pleasure. She was a happy creature, and an angel, in those days. It’s a pity she could not be content. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 919 | “Well,” said I, “where are your moor-game, Miss Cathy? We should be at them: the Grange park-fence is a great way off now.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 920 | “Oh, a little further—only a little further, Ellen,” was her answer, continually. “Climb to that hillock, pass that bank, and by the time you reach the other side I shall have raised the birds.”
But there were so many hillocks and banks to climb and pass, that, at length, I began to be weary, and told her we must halt, and retrace our steps. I shouted to her, as she had outstripped me a long way; she either did not hear or did not regard, for she still sprang on, and I was compelled to follow. Finally, she dived into a hollow; and before I came in sight of her again, she was two miles nearer Wuthering Heights than her own home; and I beheld a couple of persons arrest her, one of whom I felt convinced was Mr. Heathcliff himself.
Cathy had been caught in the fact of plundering, or, at least, hunting out the nests of the grouse. The Heights were Heathcliff’s land, and he was reproving the poacher. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 921 | “I’ve neither taken any nor found any,” she said, as I toiled to them, expanding her hands in corroboration of the statement. “I didn’t mean to take them; but papa told me there were quantities up here, and I wished to see the eggs.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 922 | Heathcliff glanced at me with an ill-meaning smile, expressing his acquaintance with the party, and, consequently, his malevolence towards it, and demanded who “papa” was? |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 923 | “Mr. Linton of Thrushcross Grange,” she replied. “I thought you did not know me, or you wouldn’t have spoken in that way.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 924 | “You suppose papa is highly esteemed and respected, then?” he said, sarcastically. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 925 | “And what are you?” inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on the speaker. “That man I’ve seen before. Is he your son?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 926 | She pointed to Hareton, the other individual, who had gained nothing but increased bulk and strength by the addition of two years to his age: he seemed as awkward and rough as ever. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 927 | “Miss Cathy,” I interrupted, “it will be three hours instead of one that we are out, presently. We really must go back.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 928 | “No, that man is not my son,” answered Heathcliff, pushing me aside. “But I have one, and you have seen him before too; and, though your nurse is in a hurry, I think both you and she would be the better for a little rest. Will you just turn this nab of heath, and walk into my house? You’ll get home earlier for the ease; and you shall receive a kind welcome.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 929 | I whispered Catherine that she mustn’t, on any account, accede to the proposal: it was entirely out of the question. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 930 | “Why?” she asked, aloud. “I’m tired of running, and the ground is dewy: I can’t sit here. Let us go, Ellen. Besides, he says I have seen his son. He’s mistaken, I think; but I guess where he lives: at the farmhouse I visited in coming from Penistone Crags. Don’t you?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 931 | “I do. Come, Nelly, hold your tongue—it will be a treat for her to look in on us. Hareton, get forwards with the lass. You shall walk with me, Nelly.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 932 | “No, she’s not going to any such place,” I cried, struggling to release my arm, which he had seized: but she was almost at the door-stones already, scampering round the brow at full speed. Her appointed companion did not pretend to escort her: he shied off by the road-side, and vanished. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 933 | “Mr. Heathcliff, it’s very wrong,” I continued: “you know you mean no good. And there she’ll see Linton, and all will be told as soon as ever we return; and I shall have the blame.”
“I want her to see Linton,” he answered; “he’s looking better these few days; it’s not often he’s fit to be seen. And we’ll soon persuade her to keep the visit secret: where is the harm of it?”
“The harm of it is, that her father would hate me if he found I suffered her to enter your house; and I am convinced you have a bad design in encouraging her to do so,” I replied. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 934 | “My design is as honest as possible. I’ll inform you of its whole scope,” he said. “That the two cousins may fall in love, and get married. I’m acting generously to your master: his young chit has no expectations, and should she second my wishes she’ll be provided for at once as joint successor with Linton.”
“If Linton died,” I answered, “and his life is quite uncertain, Catherine would be the heir.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 935 | “No, she would not,” he said. “There is no clause in the will to secure it so: his property would go to me; but, to prevent disputes, I desire their union, and am resolved to bring it about.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 936 | “And I’m resolved she shall never approach your house with me again,” I returned, as we reached the gate, where Miss Cathy waited our coming. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 937 | Heathcliff bade me be quiet; and, preceding us up the path, hastened to open the door. My young lady gave him several looks, as if she could not exactly make up her mind what to think of him; but now he smiled when he met her eye, and softened his voice in addressing her; and I was foolish enough to imagine the memory of her mother might disarm him from desiring her injury. Linton stood on the hearth. He had been out walking in the fields, for his cap was on, and he was calling to Joseph to bring him dry shoes. He had grown tall of his age, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary lustre borrowed from the salubrious air and genial sun. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 938 | “Now, who is that?” asked Mr. Heathcliff, turning to Cathy. “Can you tell?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 939 | “Your son?” she said, having doubtfully surveyed, first one and then the other. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 940 | “Yes, yes,” answered he: “but is this the only time you have beheld him? Think! Ah! you have a short memory. Linton, don’t you recall your cousin, that you used to tease us so with wishing to see?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 941 | “What, Linton!” cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at the name. “Is that little Linton? He’s taller than I am! Are you Linton?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 942 | The youth stepped forward, and acknowledged himself: she kissed him fervently, and they gazed with wonder at the change time had wrought in the appearance of each. Catherine had reached her full height; her figure was both plump and slender, elastic as steel, and her whole aspect sparkling with health and spirits. Linton’s looks and movements were very languid, and his form extremely slight; but there was a grace in his manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him not unpleasing. After exchanging numerous marks of fondness with him, his cousin went to Mr. Heathcliff, who lingered by the door, dividing his attention between the objects inside and those that lay without: pretending, that is, to observe the latter, and really noting the former alone. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 943 | “And you are my uncle, then!” she cried, reaching up to salute him. “I thought I liked you, though you were cross at first. Why don’t you visit at the Grange with Linton? To live all these years such close neighbours, and never see us, is odd: what have you done so for?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 944 | “I visited it once or twice too often before you were born,” he answered. “There—damn it! If you have any kisses to spare, give them to Linton: they are thrown away on me.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 945 | “Naughty Ellen!” exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next with her lavish caresses. “Wicked Ellen! to try to hinder me from entering. But I’ll take this walk every morning in future: may I, uncle? and sometimes bring papa. Won’t you be glad to see us?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 946 | “Of course,” replied the uncle, with a hardly suppressed grimace, resulting from his deep aversion to both the proposed visitors. “But stay,” he continued, turning towards the young lady. “Now I think of it, I’d better tell you. Mr. Linton has a prejudice against me: we quarrelled at one time of our lives, with unchristian ferocity; and, if you mention coming here to him, he’ll put a veto on your visits altogether. Therefore, you must not mention it, unless you be careless of seeing your cousin hereafter: you may come, if you will, but you must not mention it.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 947 | “Why did you quarrel?” asked Catherine, considerably crestfallen. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 948 | “He thought me too poor to wed his sister,” answered Heathcliff, “and was grieved that I got her: his pride was hurt, and he’ll never forgive it.”
“That’s wrong!” said the young lady: “some time I’ll tell him so. But Linton and I have no share in your quarrel. I’ll not come here, then; he shall come to the Grange.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 949 | “It will be too far for me,” murmured her cousin: “to walk four miles would kill me. No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then: not every morning, but once or twice a week.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 950 | The father launched towards his son a glance of bitter contempt. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 951 | “I am afraid, Nelly, I shall lose my labour,” he muttered to me. “Miss Catherine, as the ninny calls her, will discover his value, and send him to the devil. Now, if it had been Hareton!—Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation? I’d have loved the lad had he been some one else. But I think he’s safe from her love. I’ll pit him against that paltry creature, unless it bestir itself briskly. We calculate it will scarcely last till it is eighteen. Oh, confound the vapid thing! He’s absorbed in drying his feet, and never looks at her.—Linton!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 952 | “Yes, father,” answered the boy. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 953 | “Have you nothing to show your cousin anywhere about, not even a rabbit or a weasel’s nest? Take her into the garden, before you change your shoes; and into the stable to see your horse.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 954 | “Wouldn’t you rather sit here?” asked Linton, addressing Cathy in a tone which expressed reluctance to move again. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 955 | “I don’t know,” she replied, casting a longing look to the door, and evidently eager to be active. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 956 | He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire. Heathcliff rose, and went into the kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out for Hareton. Hareton responded, and presently the two re-entered. The young man had been washing himself, as was visible by the glow on his cheeks and his wetted hair. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 957 | “Oh, I’ll ask you, uncle,” cried Miss Cathy, recollecting the housekeeper’s assertion. “That is not my cousin, is he?”
“Yes,” he replied, “your mother’s nephew. Don’t you like him?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 958 | Catherine looked queer. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 959 | “Is he not a handsome lad?” he continued. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 960 | The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence in Heathcliff’s ear. He laughed; Hareton darkened: I perceived he was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion of his inferiority. But his master or guardian chased the frown by exclaiming—
“You’ll be the favourite among us, Hareton! She says you are a—What was it? Well, something very flattering. Here! you go with her round the farm. And behave like a gentleman, mind! Don’t use any bad words; and don’t stare when the young lady is not looking at you, and be ready to hide your face when she is; and, when you speak, say your words slowly, and keep your hands out of your pockets. Be off, and entertain her as nicely as you can.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 961 | He watched the couple walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenance completely averted from his companion. He seemed studying the familiar landscape with a stranger’s and an artist’s interest. Catherine took a sly look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned her attention to seeking out objects of amusement for herself, and tripped merrily on, lilting a tune to supply the lack of conversation. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 962 | “I’ve tied his tongue,” observed Heathcliff. “He’ll not venture a single syllable all the time! Nelly, you recollect me at his age—nay, some years younger. Did I ever look so stupid: so ‘gaumless,’ as Joseph calls it?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 963 | “Worse,” I replied, “because more sullen with it.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 964 | “I’ve a pleasure in him,” he continued, reflecting aloud. “He has satisfied my expectations. If he were a born fool I should not enjoy it half so much. But he’s no fool; and I can sympathise with all his feelings, having felt them myself. I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly: it is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer, though. And he’ll never be able to emerge from his bathos of coarseness and ignorance. I’ve got him faster than his scoundrel of a father secured me, and lower; for he takes a pride in his brutishness. I’ve taught him to scorn everything extra-animal as silly and weak. Don’t you think Hindley would be proud of his son, if he could see him? almost as proud as I am of mine. But there’s this difference; one is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it; yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities, and they are lost: rendered worse than unavailing. I have nothing to regret; he would have more than any, but I, are aware of. And the best of it is, Hareton is damnably fond of me! You’ll own that I’ve outmatched Hindley there. If the dead villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for his offspring’s wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing the said offspring fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail at the one friend he has in the world!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 965 | Heathcliff chuckled a fiendish laugh at the idea. I made no reply, because I saw that he expected none. Meantime, our young companion, who sat too removed from us to hear what was said, began to evince symptoms of uneasiness, probably repenting that he had denied himself the treat of Catherine’s society for fear of a little fatigue. His father remarked the restless glances wandering to the window, and the hand irresolutely extended towards his cap. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 966 | “Get up, you idle boy!” he exclaimed, with assumed heartiness. “Away after them! they are just at the corner, by the stand of hives.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 967 | Linton gathered his energies, and left the hearth. The lattice was open, and, as he stepped out, I heard Cathy inquiring of her unsociable attendant what was that inscription over the door? Hareton stared up, and scratched his head like a true clown. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 968 | “It’s some damnable writing,” he answered. “I cannot read it.”
“Can’t read it?” cried Catherine; “I can read it: it’s English. But I want to know why it is there.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 969 | Linton giggled: the first appearance of mirth he had exhibited. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 970 | “He does not know his letters,” he said to his cousin. “Could you believe in the existence of such a colossal dunce?” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 971 | “Is he all as he should be?” asked Miss Cathy, seriously; “or is he simple: not right? I’ve questioned him twice now, and each time he looked so stupid I think he does not understand me. I can hardly understand him, I’m sure!” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 972 | Linton repeated his laugh, and glanced at Hareton tauntingly; who certainly did not seem quite clear of comprehension at that moment. |