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 chamber
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 furniture 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
obviate the necessity for every
member of the family having 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 mildewed books
piled up in one corner; and it
was covered with writing scratched
on the paint. This writing, however,
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 window, 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 reclining on one
of the antique volumes, and perfuming
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 dilapidation proved it to
have been well used, though not
altogether 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 unknown Catherine, and I
began forthwith to decipher her
faded hieroglyphics.
'An awful Sunday,' commenced
the paragraph beneath. '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 congregation 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 ploughboy 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 descending, "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 tyrant. "I'll
demolish the first who puts me
out of temper! I insist on perfect
sobriety and silence. Oh, 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 husband's knee, and there
they were, like two babies, kissing
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 errand from the stables.
He tears down my handiwork, boxes
my ears, and croaks:
'"T' maister
nobbut just buried, and Sabbath
not 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 positions
that we might receive from the
far-off fire 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
volume 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' Helmet 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 dairywoman'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 prophecy 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 Jabez
Branderham, in the Chapel of
Gimmerden Sough.' And while I
was, half-consciously, worrying
my brain to guess what Jabez
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
that 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 Jabez 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
embalming on the few corpses
deposited there. The roof has
been kept whole hitherto; but
as the clergyman's stipend 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, Jabez 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 grow. 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:
finally, he reached the 'FIRST
OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST.' At that
crisis, a sudden inspiration
descended on me; I was moved
to rise and denounce Jabez 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.
Seventy 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 Jabez,
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, exalting
their pilgrim's staves, rushed
round me in a body; and I, having
no weapon to raise in self-defence,
commenced 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
Jabez'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 annoyed me so much,
that I resolved to silence it,
if possible; 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
forgotten. 'I must stop it, nevertheless!'
I muttered, knocking 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 useless
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 feeble 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 glimmered 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 muttered to
himself. At last, he said, in
a half-whisper, plainly not expecting
an answer, 'Is any one here?'
I considered it best to confess
my presence; for I knew Heathcliff'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 myself 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 probably
would have strangled me!' I returned.
'I'm not going to endure the
persecutions of your hospitable
ancestors again. Was not the
Reverend Jabez Branderham akin
to you on the mother's side?
And that minx, Catherine 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 these twenty years:
a just punishment for her mortal
transgressions, I've no doubt!'
Scarcely were these words uttered
when I recollected 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
inconsideration: 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, calculated
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
'Catherine Linton' before, but
reading it often over produced
an impression which personified
itself when I had no longer my
imagination under control. Heathcliff
gradually 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 toilette rather
noisily, looked at my watch,
and soliloquised 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 motion 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 down- stairs 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 himself.'
'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
minutes!'
I obeyed, so far as to quit
the chamber; when, ignorant 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 uncontrollable
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 accompanied
this raving, that my compassion
made me overlook its folly, and
I drew off, half angry to have
listened 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, enabled me
to rekindle my candle. Nothing
was stirring except a brindled,
grey 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 sanctum 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 enjoy
the luxury unannoyed; and after
sucking out his last wreath,
and heaving a profound sigh,
he got up, and departed 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 Earnshaw was performing
his orison 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 exchanging
civilities with me as with my
companion the cat. I guessed,
by his preparations, that egress
was allowed, 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 inarticulate sound that
there was the place where I must
go, if I changed my locality.
It opened into the house, where
the females were already astir;
Zillah urging flakes of flame
up the chimney with a colossal
bellows; and Mrs. Heathcliff,
kneeling 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
overforwardly 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 with 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 entered, turning
to his daughter-in-law, and employing
an epithet as harmless as duck,
or sheep, but generally represented
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, damnable
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 partake 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. Heathcliff 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 halloed 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, excepting a
dirty dot pointing up here and
there, all traces of their existence
had vanished: and my companion
found it necessary 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 adieux 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 experienced
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 welcome 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 up-stairs; whence,
after putting on dry clothes,
and pacing to and fro thirty
or forty minutes, to restore
the animal heat, I adjourned
to my study, feeble as a kitten:
almost too much so to enjoy the
cheerful fire and smoking coffee
which the servant had prepared
for my refreshment.
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