THE twelve years, continued
Mrs. Dean, following that dismal
period were the happiest of my
life: my greatest troubles in
their passage rose from our little
lady's trifling illnesses, which
she had to experience in common
with all children, rich and poor.
For the rest, after the first
six months, she grew like a larch,
and could walk and talk too,
in her own way, before the heath
blossomed a second time over
Mrs. Linton's dust. She was the
most winning thing that ever
brought sunshine into a desolate
house: a real beauty in face,
with the Earnshaws' handsome
dark eyes, but the Lintons' fair
skin and small features, and
yellow curling hair. Her spirit
was high, though not rough, and
qualified by a heart sensitive
and lively to excess in its affections.
That capacity for intense attachments
reminded me of her mother: still
she did not resemble her: for
she could be soft and mild as
a dove, and she had a gentle
voice and pensive expression:
her anger was never furious;
her love never fierce: it was
deep and tender. However, it
must be acknowledged, she had
faults to foil her gifts. A propensity
to be saucy was one; and a perverse
will, that indulged children
invariably acquire, whether they
be good tempered or cross. If
a servant chanced to vex her,
it was always - 'I shall tell
papa!' And if he reproved her,
even by a look, you would have
thought it a heart-breaking business:
I don't believe he ever did speak
a harsh word to her. He took
her education entirely on himself,
and made it an amusement. Fortunately,
curiosity and a quick intellect
made her an apt scholar: she
learned rapidly and eagerly,
and did honour to his teaching.
Till she reached the age of
thirteen she had not once been
beyond the range of the park
by herself. Mr. Linton would
take her with him a mile or so
outside, on rare occasions; but
he trusted her to no one else.
Gimmerton was an unsubstantial
name in her ears; the chapel,
the only building she had approached
or entered, except her own home.
Wuthering Heights and Mr. Heathcliff
did not exist for her: she was
a perfect recluse; and, apparently,
perfectly contented. Sometimes,
indeed, while surveying the country
from her nursery window, she
would observe -
'Ellen, how long will it be
before I can walk to the top
of those hills? I wonder what
lies on the other side - is it
the sea?'
'No, Miss Cathy,' I would answer;
'it is hills again, just like
these.'
'And what are those golden
rocks like when you stand under
them?' she once asked.
The abrupt descent of Penistone
Crags particularly attracted
her notice; especially when the
setting sun shone on it and the
topmost heights, and the whole
extent of landscape besides lay
in shadow. I explained that they
were bare masses of stone, with
hardly enough earth in their
clefts to nourish a stunted tree.
'And why are they bright so
long after it is evening here?'
she pursued.
'Because they are a great deal
higher up than we are,' replied
I; 'you could not climb them,
they are too high and steep.
In winter the frost is always
there before it comes to us;
and deep into summer I have found
snow under that black hollow
on the north-east side!'
'Oh, you have been on them!'
she cried gleefully. 'Then I
can go, too, when I am a woman.
Has papa been, Ellen?'
'Papa would tell you, Miss,'
I answered, hastily, 'that they
are not worth the trouble of
visiting. The moors, where you
ramble with him, are much nicer;
and Thrushcross Park is the finest
place in the world.'
'But I know the park, and I
don't know those,' she murmured
to herself. 'And I should delight
to look round me from the brow
of that tallest point: my little
pony Minny shall take me some
time.'
One of the maids mentioning
the Fairy Cave, quite turned
her head with a desire to fulfil
this project: she teased Mr.
Linton about it; and he promised
she should have the journey when
she got older. But Miss Catherine
measured her age by months, and,
'Now, am I old enough to go to
Penistone Crags?' was the constant
question in her mouth. The road
thither wound close by Wuthering
Heights. Edgar had not the heart
to pass it; so she received as
constantly the answer, 'Not yet,
love: not yet.'
I said Mrs. Heathcliff lived
above a dozen years after quitting
her husband. Her family were
of a delicate constitution: she
and Edgar both lacked the ruddy
health that you will generally
meet in these parts. What her
last illness was, I am not certain:
I conjecture, they died of the
same thing, a kind of fever,
slow at its commencement, but
incurable, and rapidly consuming
life towards the close. She wrote
to inform her brother of the
probable conclusion of a four-months'
indisposition under which she
had suffered, and entreated him
to come to her, if possible;
for she had much to settle, and
she wished to bid him adieu,
and deliver Linton safely into
his hands. Her hope was that
Linton might be left with him,
as he had been with her: his
father, she would fain convince
herself, had no desire to assume
the burden of his maintenance
or education. My master hesitated
not a moment in complying with
her request: reluctant as he
was to leave home at ordinary
calls, he flew to answer this;
commanding Catherine to my peculiar
vigilance, in his absence, with
reiterated orders that she must
not wander out of the park, even
under my escort he did not calculate
on her going unaccompanied.
He was away three weeks. The
first day or two my charge sat
in a corner of the library, too
sad for either reading or playing:
in that quiet state she caused
me little trouble; but it was
succeeded by an interval of impatient,
fretful weariness; and being
too busy, and too old then, to
run up and down amusing her,
I hit on a method by which she
might entertain herself. I used
to send her on her travels round
the grounds - now on foot, and
now on a pony; indulging her
with a patient audience of all
her real and imaginary adventures
when she returned.
The summer shone in full prime;
and she took such a taste for
this solitary rambling that she
often contrived to remain out
from breakfast till tea; and
then the evenings were spent
in recounting her fanciful tales.
I did not fear her breaking bounds;
because the gates were generally
looked, and I thought she would
scarcely venture forth alone,
if they had stood wide open.
Unluckily, my confidence proved
misplaced. Catherine came to
me, one morning, at eight o'clock,
and said she was that day an
Arabian merchant, going to cross
the Desert with his caravan;
and I must give her plenty of
provision for herself and beasts:
a horse, and three camels, personated
by a large hound and a couple
of pointers. I got together good
store of dainties, and slung
them in a basket on one side
of the saddle; and she sprang
up as gay as a fairy, sheltered
by her wide-brimmed hat and gauze
veil from the July sun, and trotted
off with a merry laugh, mocking
my cautious counsel to avoid
galloping, and come back early.
The naughty thing never made
her appearance at tea. One traveller,
the hound, being an old dog and
fond of its ease, returned; but
neither Cathy, nor the pony,
nor the two pointers were visible
in any direction: I despatched
emissaries down this path, and
that path, and at last went wandering
in search of her myself. There
was a labourer working at a fence
round a plantation, on the borders
of the grounds. I inquired of
him if he had seen our young
lady.
'I saw her at morn,' he replied:
'she would have me to cut her
a hazel switch, and then she
leapt her Galloway over the hedge
yonder, where it is lowest, and
galloped out of sight.'
You may guess how I felt at
hearing this news. It struck
me directly she must have started
for Penistone Crags. 'What will
become of her?' I ejaculated,
pushing through a gap which the
man was repairing, and making
straight to the high-road. I
walked as if for a wager, mile
after mile, till a turn brought
me in view of the Heights; but
no Catherine could I detect,
far or near. The Crags lie about
a mile and a half beyond Mr.
Heathcliff's place, and that
is four from the Grange, so I
began to fear night would fall
ere I could reach them. 'And
what if she should have slipped
in clambering among them,' I
reflected, 'and been killed,
or broken some of her bones?'
My suspense was truly painful;
and, at first, it gave me delightful
relief to observe, in hurrying
by the farmhouse, Charlie, the
fiercest of the pointers, lying
under a window, with swelled
head and bleeding ear. I opened
the wicket and ran to the door,
knocking vehemently for admittance.
A woman whom I knew, and who
formerly lived at Gimmerton,
answered: she had been servant
there since the death of Mr.
Earnshaw.
'Ah,' said she, 'you are come
a-seeking your little mistress!
Don't be frightened. She's here
safe: but I'm glad it isn't the
master.'
'He is not at home then, is
he?' I panted, quite breathless
with quick walking and alarm.
'No, no,' she replied: 'both
he and Joseph are off, and I
think they won't return this
hour or more. Step in and rest
you a bit.'
I entered, and beheld my stray
lamb seated on the hearth, rocking
herself in a little chair that
had been her mother's when a
child. Her hat was hung against
the wall, and she seemed perfectly
at home, laughing and chattering,
in the best spirits imaginable,
to Hareton - now a great, strong
lad of eighteen - who stared
at her with considerable curiosity
and astonishment: comprehending
precious little of the fluent
succession of remarks and questions
which her tongue never ceased
pouring forth.
'Very well, Miss!' I exclaimed,
concealing my joy under an angry
countenance. 'This is your last
ride, till papa comes back. I'll
not trust you over the threshold
again, you naughty, naughty girl!'
'Aha, Ellen!' she cried, gaily,
jumping up and running to my
side. 'I shall have a pretty
story to tell to-night; and so
you've found me out. Have you
ever been here in your life before?'
'Put that hat on, and home
at once,' said I. 'I'm dreadfully
grieved at you, Miss Cathy: you've
done extremely wrong! It's no
use pouting and crying: that
won't repay the trouble I've
had, scouring the country after
you. To think how Mr. Linton
charged me to keep you in; and
you stealing off so! It shows
you are a cunning little fox,
and nobody will put faith in
you any more.'
'What have I done?' sobbed
she, instantly checked. 'Papa
charged me nothing: he'll not
scold me, Ellen - he's never
cross, like you!'
'Come, come!' I repeated. 'I'll
tie the riband. Now, let us have
no petulance. Oh, for shame!
You thirteen years old, and such
a baby!'
This exclamation was caused
by her pushing the hat from her
head, and retreating to the chimney
out of my reach.
'Nay,' said the servant, 'don't
be hard on the bonny lass, Mrs.
Dean. We made her stop: she'd
fain have ridden forwards, afeard
you should be uneasy. Hareton
offered to go with her, and I
thought he should: it's a wild
road over the hills.'
Hareton, during the discussion,
stood with his hands in his pockets,
too awkward to speak; though
he looked as if he did not relish
my intrusion.
'How long am I to wait?' I
continued, disregarding the woman's
interference. 'It will be dark
in ten minutes. Where is the
pony, Miss Cathy? And where is
Phoenix? I shall leave you, unless
you be quick; so please yourself.'
'The pony is in the yard,'
she replied, 'and Phoenix is
shut in there. He's bitten -
and so is Charlie. I was going
to tell you all about it; but
you are in a bad temper, and
don't deserve to hear.'
I picked up her hat, and approached
to reinstate it; but perceiving
that the people of the house
took her part, she commenced
capering round the room; and
on my giving chase, ran like
a mouse over and under and behind
the furniture, rendering it ridiculous
for me to pursue. Hareton and
the woman laughed, and she joined
them, and waxed more impertinent
still; till I cried, in great
irritation, - 'Well, Miss Cathy,
if you were aware whose house
this is you'd be glad enough
to get out.'
'It's YOUR father's, isn't
it?' said she, turning to Hareton.
'Nay,' he replied, looking
down, and blushing bashfully.
He could not stand a steady
gaze from her eyes, though they
were just his own.
'Whose then - your master's?'
she asked.
He coloured deeper, with a
different feeling, muttered an
oath, and turned away.
'Who is his
master?' continued the tiresome
girl, appealing
to me. 'He talked about "our
house," and "our folk." I thought
he had been the owner's son.
And he never said Miss: he should
have done, shouldn't he, if he's
a servant?'
Hareton grew black as a thunder-cloud
at this childish speech. I silently
shook my questioner, and at last
succeeded in equipping her for
departure.
'Now, get my horse,' she said,
addressing her unknown kinsman
as she would one of the stable-boys
at the Grange. 'And you may come
with me. I want to see where
the goblin-hunter rises in the
marsh, and to hear about the
FAIRISHES, as you call them:
but make haste! What's the matter?
Get my horse, I say.'
'I'll see thee damned before
I be THY servant!' growled the
lad.
"You'll see
me WHAT!' asked Catherine in
surprise.
'Damned - thou saucy witch!'
he replied.
'There, Miss Cathy! you see
you have got into pretty company,'
I interposed. 'Nice words to
be used to a young lady! Pray
don't begin to dispute with him.
Come, let us seek for Minny ourselves,
and begone.'
'But, Ellen,' cried she, staring
fixed in astonishment, 'how dare
he speak so to me? Mustn't he
be made to do as I ask him? You
wicked creature, I shall tell
papa what you said. - Now, then!'
Hareton did not appear to feel
this threat; so the tears sprang
into her eyes with indignation.
'You bring the pony,' she exclaimed,
turning to the woman, 'and let
my dog free this moment!'
'Softly, Miss,' answered she
addressed: 'you'll lose nothing
by being civil. Though Mr. Hareton,
there, be not the master's son,
he's your cousin: and I was never
hired to serve you.'
'HE my cousin!' cried Cathy,
with a scornful laugh.
'Yes, indeed,' responded her
reprover.
'Oh, Ellen! don't let them
say such things,' she pursued
in great trouble. 'Papa is gone
to fetch my cousin from London:
my cousin is a gentleman's son.
That my - ' she stopped, and
wept outright; upset at the bare
notion of relationship with such
a clown.
'Hush, hush!' I whispered;
'people can have many cousins
and of all sorts, Miss Cathy,
without being any the worse for
it; only they needn't keep their
company, if they be disagreeable
and bad.'
'He's not - he's not my cousin,
Ellen!' she went on, gathering
fresh grief from reflection,
and flinging herself into my
arms for refuge from the idea.
I was much vexed at her and
the servant for their mutual
revelations; having no doubt
of Linton's approaching arrival,
communicated by the former, being
reported to Mr. Heathcliff; and
feeling as confident that Catherine's
first thought on her father's
return would be to seek an explanation
of the latter's assertion concerning
her rude-bred kindred. Hareton,
recovering from his disgust at
being taken for a servant, seemed
moved by her distress; and, having
fetched the pony round to the
door, he took, to propitiate
her, a fine crooked-legged terrier
whelp from the kennel, and putting
it into her hand, bid her whist!
for he meant nought. Pausing
in her lamentations, she surveyed
him with a glance of awe and
horror, then burst forth anew.
I could scarcely refrain from
smiling at this antipathy to
the poor fellow; who was a well-made,
athletic youth, good-looking
in features, and stout and healthy,
but attired in garments befitting
his daily occupations of working
on the farm and lounging among
the moors after rabbits and game.
Still, I thought I could detect
in his physiognomy a mind owning
better qualities than his father
ever possessed. Good things lost
amid a wilderness of weeds, to
be sure, whose rankness far over-topped
their neglected growth; yet,
notwithstanding, evidence of
a wealthy soil, that might yield
luxuriant crops under other and
favourable circumstances. Mr.
Heathcliff, I believe, had not
treated him physically ill; thanks
to his fearless nature, which
offered no temptation to that
course of oppression: he had
none of the timid susceptibility
that would have given zest to
ill-treatment, in Heathcliff
s judgment. He appeared to have
bent his malevolence on making
him a brute: he was never taught
to read or write; never rebuked
for any bad habit which did not
annoy his keeper; never led a
single step towards virtue, or
guarded by a single precept against
vice. And from what I heard,
Joseph contributed much to his
deterioration, by a narrow- minded
partiality which prompted him
to flatter and pet him, as a
boy, because he was the head
of the old family. And as he
had been in the habit of accusing
Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff,
when children, of putting the
master past his patience, and
compelling him to seek solace
in drink by what he termed their
'offald ways,' so at present
he laid the whole burden of Hareton's
faults on the shoulders of the
usurper of his property. If the
lad swore, he wouldn't correct
him: nor however culpably he
behaved. It gave Joseph satisfaction,
apparently, to watch him go the
worst lengths: he allowed that
the lad was ruined: that his
soul was abandoned to perdition;
but then he reflected that Heathcliff
must answer for it. Hareton's
blood would be required at his
hands; and there lay immense
consolation in that thought.
Joseph had instilled into him
a pride of name, and of his lineage;
he would, had he dared, have
fostered hate between him and
the present owner of the Heights:
but his dread of that owner amounted
to superstition; and he confined
his feelings regarding him to
muttered innuendoes and private
comminations. I don't pretend
to be intimately acquainted with
the mode of living customary
in those days at Wuthering Heights:
I only speak from hearsay; for
I saw little. The villagers affirmed
Mr. Heathcliff was NEAR, and
a cruel hard landlord to his
tenants; but the house, inside,
had regained its ancient aspect
of comfort under female management,
and the scenes of riot common
in Hindley's time were not now
enacted within its walls. The
master was too gloomy to seek
companionship with any people,
good or bad; and he is yet.
This, however, is not making
progress with my story. Miss
Cathy rejected the peace-offering
of the terrier, and demanded
her own dogs, Charlie and Phoenix.
They came limping and hanging
their heads; and we set out for
home, sadly out of sorts, every
one of us. I could not wring
from my little lady how she had
spent the day; except that, as
I supposed, the goal of her pilgrimage
was Penistone Crags; and she
arrived without adventure to
the gate of the farm-house, when
Hareton happened to issue forth,
attended by some canine followers,
who attacked her train. They
had a smart battle, before their
owners could separate them: that
formed an introduction. Catherine
told Hareton who she was, and
where she was going; and asked
him to show her the way: finally,
beguiling him to accompany her.
He opened the mysteries of the
Fairy Cave, and twenty other
queer places. But, being in disgrace,
I was not favoured with a description
of the interesting objects she
saw. I could gather, however,
that her guide had been a favourite
till she hurt his feelings by
addressing him as a servant;
and Heathcliff's housekeeper
hurt hers by calling him her
cousin. Then the language he
had held to her rankled in her
heart; she who was always 'love,'
and 'darling,' and 'queen,' and
'angel,' with everybody at the
Grange, to be insulted so shockingly
by a stranger! She did not comprehend
it; and hard work I had to obtain
a promise that she would not
lay the grievance before her
father. I explained how he objected
to the whole household at the
Heights, and how sorry he would
be to find she had been there;
but I insisted most on the fact,
that if she revealed my negligence
of his orders, he would perhaps
be so angry that I should have
to leave; and Cathy couldn't
bear that prospect: she pledged
her word, and kept it for my
sake. After all, she was a sweet
little girl.
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