CHAPTER VIII
On the morning of a fine June day my first bonny little nursling, and thelast of the ancient Earnshaw stock, was born. We were busy with the hayin a far-away field, when the girl that usually brought our breakfastscame running an hour too soon across the meadow and up the lane, callingme as she ran.
'Oh, such a grand bairn!' she panted out. 'The finest lad that everbreathed! But the doctor says missis must go: he says she's been in aconsumption these many months. I heard him tell Mr. Hindley: and now shehas nothing to keep her, and she'll be dead before winter. You must comehome directly. You're to nurse it, Nelly: to feed it with sugar andmilk, and take care of it day and night. I wish I were you, because itwill be all yours when there is no missis!'
'But is she very ill?' I asked, flinging down my rake and tying mybonnet.
'I guess she is; yet she looks bravely,' replied the girl, 'and she talksas if she thought of living to see it grow a man. She's out of her headfor 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 Kenneth. I wasfairly mad at him. Dame Archer brought the cherub down to master, in thehouse, and his face just began to light up, when the old croaker stepsforward, and says he--Earnshaw, it's a blessing your wife has beenspared to leave you this son. When she came, I felt convinced weshouldn't keep her long; and now, I must tell you, the winter willprobably finish her. Don't take on, and fret about it too much: it can'tbe helped. And besides, you should have known better than to choose sucha 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 thebairn,' and she began again to describe it rapturously. I, as zealous asherself, hurried eagerly home to admire, on my part; though I was verysad for Hindley's sake. He had room in his heart only for two idols--hiswife and himself: he doted on both, and adored one, and I couldn'tconceive 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, putting on a cheerfulsmile.
'And the mistress?' I ventured to inquire; 'the doctor 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 goingup-stairs? will you tell her that I'll come, if she'll promise not totalk. I left her because she would not hold her tongue; and shemust--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 goneout twice, crying. Well, say I promise I won't speak: but that does notbind me not to laugh at him!'
Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failedher; and her husband persisted doggedly, nay, furiously, in affirming herhealth improved every day. When Kenneth warned him that his medicineswere useless at that stage of the malady, and he needn't put him tofurther expense by attending her, he retorted, 'I know you need not--she'swell--she does not want any more attendance from you! She never was in aconsumption. It was a fever; and it is gone: her pulse is as slow asmine now, and her cheek as cool.'
He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to believe him; but onenight, while leaning on his shoulder, in the act of saying she thoughtshe should be able to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her--avery slight one--he raised her in his arms; she put her two hands abouthis 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, wascontented, as far as regarded him. For himself, he grew desperate: hissorrow was of that kind that will not lament. He neither wept norprayed; he cursed and defied: execrated God and man, and gave himself upto reckless dissipation. The servants could not bear his tyrannical andevil conduct long: Joseph and I were the only two that would stay. I hadnot the heart to leave my charge; and besides, you know, I had been hisfoster-sister, and excused his behaviour more readily than a strangerwould. Joseph remained to hector over tenants and labourers; and becauseit 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 forCatherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to makea fiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if the lad _were_possessed of something diabolical at that period. He delighted towitness Hindley degrading himself past redemption; and became daily morenotable for savage sullenness and ferocity. I could not half tell whatan infernal house we had. The curate dropped calling, and nobody decentcame near us, at last; unless Edgar Linton's visits to Miss Cathy mightbe an exception. At fifteen she was the queen of the country-side; shehad no peer; and she did turn out a haughty, headstrong creature! I ownI did not like her, after infancy was past; and I vexed her frequently bytrying to bring down her arrogance: she never took an aversion to me,though. She had a wondrous constancy to old attachments: even Heathcliffkept his hold on her affections unalterably; and young Linton, with allhis superiority, found it difficult to make an equally deep impression.He was my late master: that is his portrait over the fireplace. It usedto hang on one side, and his wife's on the other; but hers has beenremoved, or else you might see something of what she was. Can you makethat out?
Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I discerned a soft-featured face,exceedingly resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensiveand amiable in expression. It formed a sweet picture. The long lighthair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and serious; thefigure almost too graceful. I did not marvel how Catherine Earnshawcould forget her first friend for such an individual. I marvelled muchhow he, with a mind to correspond with his person, could fancy my idea ofCatherine Earnshaw.
'A very agreeable portrait,' I observed to the house-keeper. 'Is itlike?'
'Yes,' she answered; 'but he looked better when he was animated; that ishis everyday countenance: he wanted spirit in general.'
Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since herfive-weeks' residence among them; and as she had no temptation to showher rough side in their company, and had the sense to be ashamed ofbeing rude where she experienced such invariable courtesy, she imposedunwittingly on the old lady and gentleman by her ingenious cordiality;gained the admiration of Isabella, and the heart and soul of herbrother: acquisitions that flattered her from the first--for she wasfull of ambition--and led her to adopt a double character withoutexactly intending to deceive any one. In the place where she heardHeathcliff termed a 'vulgar young ruffian,' and 'worse than a brute,'she took care not to act like him; but at home she had small inclinationto practise politeness that would only be laughed at, and restrain anunruly nature when it would bring her neither credit nor praise.
Mr. Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. Hehad a terror of Earnshaw's reputation, and shrunk from encountering him;and yet he was always received with our best attempts at civility: themaster himself avoided offending him, knowing why he came; and if hecould not be gracious, kept out of the way. I rather think hisappearance there was distasteful to Catherine; she was not artful, neverplayed the coquette, and had evidently an objection to her two friendsmeeting at all; for when Heathcliff expressed contempt of Linton in hispresence, she could not half coincide, as she did in his absence; andwhen Linton evinced disgust and antipathy to Heathcliff, she dared nottreat his sentiments with indifference, as if depreciation of herplaymate were of scarcely any consequence to her. I've had many a laughat her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hidefrom my mockery. That sounds ill-natured: but she was so proud it becamereally impossible to pity her distresses, till she should be chastenedinto more humility. She did bring herself, finally, to confess, and toconfide in me: there was not a soul else that she might fashion into anadviser.
Mr. Hindley had gone from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed togive himself a holiday on the strength of it. He had reached the age ofsixteen then, I think, and without having bad features, or beingdeficient in intellect, he contrived to convey an impression of inwardand outward repulsiveness that his present aspect retains no traces of.In the first place, he had by that time lost the benefit of his earlyeducation: continual hard work, begun soon and concluded late, hadextinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit of knowledge, andany love for books or learning. His childhood's sense of superiority,instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away. Hestruggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, andyielded with poignant though silent regret: but he yielded completely;and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in the way of movingupward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath his formerlevel. Then personal appearance sympathised with mental deterioration:he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his naturally reserveddisposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociablemoroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting theaversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintances.
Catherine and he were constant companions still at his seasons of respitefrom labour; but he had ceased to express his fondness for her in words,and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses, as ifconscious there could be no gratification in lavishing such marks ofaffection on him. On the before-named occasion he came into the house toannounce his intention of doing nothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathyto arrange her dress: she had not reckoned on his taking it into his headto be idle; and imagining she would have the whole place to herself, shemanaged, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her brother's absence, andwas then preparing to receive him.
'Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?' asked Heathcliff. 'Are you goinganywhere?'
'No, it is raining,' she answered.
'Why have you that silk frock on, then?' he said. 'Nobody coming here, Ihope?'
'Not that I know of,' stammered Miss: 'but you should be in the fieldnow, Heathcliff. It is an hour past dinnertime: I thought you weregone.'
'Hindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,' observed theboy. 'I'll not work any more to-day: I'll stay with you.'
'Oh, but Joseph will tell,' she suggested; 'you'd better go!'
'Joseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it willtake him till dark, and he'll never know.'
So, saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down. Catherine reflected aninstant, with knitted brows--she found it needful to smooth the way foran intrusion. 'Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling thisafternoon,' she said, at the conclusion of a minute's silence. 'As itrains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they do, you runthe risk of being scolded for no good.'
'Order Ellen to say you are engaged, Cathy,' he persisted; 'don't turn meout for those pitiful, silly friends of yours! I'm on the point,sometimes, of complaining that they--but I'll not--'
'That they what?' cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubledcountenance. 'Oh, Nelly!' she added petulantly, jerking her head awayfrom my hands, 'you've combed my hair quite out of curl! That's enough;let me alone. What are you on the point of complaining about,Heathcliff?'
'Nothing--only look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to a framedsheet hanging near the window, and continued, 'The crosses are for theevenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent withme. Do you see? I've marked every day.'
'Yes--very foolish: as if I took notice!' replied Catherine, in a peevishtone. 'And where is the sense of that?'
'To show that I _do_ take notice,' said Heathcliff.
'And should I always be sitting with you?' she demanded, growing moreirritated. 'What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might bedumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything youdo, either!'
'You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you dislikedmy company, Cathy!' exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.
'It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,' shemuttered.
Her companion rose up, but he hadn't time to express his feelingsfurther, for a horse's feet were heard on the flags, and having knockedgently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at theunexpected summon she had received. Doubtless Catherine marked thedifference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out.The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coalcountry for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting wereas opposite as his aspect. He had a sweet, low manner of speaking, andpronounced his words as you do: that's less gruff than we talk here, andsofter.
'I'm not come too soon, am I?' he said, casting a look at me: I had begunto wipe the plate, and tidy some drawers at the far end in the dresser.
'No,' answered Catherine. 'What are you doing there, Nelly?'
'My work, Miss,' I replied. (Mr. Hindley had given me directions to makea third party in any private visits Linton chose to pay.)
She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, 'Take yourself and yourdusters off; when company are in the house, servants don't commencescouring and cleaning in the room where they are!'
'It's a good opportunity, now that master is away,' I answered aloud: 'hehates me to be fidgeting over these things in his presence. I'm sure Mr.Edgar will excuse me.'
'I hate you to be fidgeting in _my_ presence,' exclaimed the young ladyimperiously, not allowing her guest time to speak: she had failed torecover her equanimity since the little dispute with Heathcliff.
'I'm sorry for it, Miss Catherine,' was my response; and I proceededassiduously with my occupation.
She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand,and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm. I'vesaid I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying her vanity nowand then: besides, she hurt me extremely; so I started up from my knees,and screamed out, 'Oh, Miss, that's a nasty trick! You have no right tonip me, and I'm not going to bear it.'
'I didn't touch you, you lying creature!' cried she, her fingers tinglingto repeat the act, and her ears red with rage. She never had power toconceal her passion, it always set her whole complexion in a blaze.
'What's that, then?' I retorted, showing a decided purple witness torefute her.
She stamped her foot, wavered a moment, and then, irresistibly impelledby the naughty spirit within her, slapped me on the cheek: a stingingblow that filled both eyes with water.
'Catherine, love! Catherine!' interposed Linton, greatly shocked at thedouble fault of falsehood and violence which his idol had committed.
'Leave the room, Ellen!' she repeated, trembling all over.
Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me onthe floor, at seeing my tears commenced crying himself, and sobbed outcomplaints against 'wicked aunt Cathy,' which drew her fury on to hisunlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor childwaxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliverhim. In an instant one was wrung free, and the astonished young man feltit applied over his own ear in a way that could not be mistaken for jest.He drew back in consternation. I lifted Hareton in my arms, and walkedoff to the kitchen with him, leaving the door of communication open, forI was curious to watch how they would settle their disagreement. Theinsulted visitor moved to the spot where he had laid his hat, pale andwith a quivering lip.
'That's right!' I said to myself. 'Take warning and begone! It's akindness to let you have a glimpse of her genuine disposition.'
'Where are you going?' demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.
He swerved aside, and attempted to pass.
'You must not go!' she exclaimed, energetically.
'I must and shall!' he replied in a subdued voice.
'No,' she persisted, grasping the handle; 'not yet, Edgar Linton: sitdown; you shall not leave me in that temper. I should be miserable allnight, and I won't be miserable for you!'
'Can I stay after you have struck me?' asked Linton.
Catherine was mute.
'You've made me afraid and ashamed of you,' he continued; 'I'll not comehere again!'
Her eyes began to glisten and her lids to twinkle.
'And you told a deliberate untruth!' he said.
'I didn't!' she cried, recovering her speech; 'I did nothingdeliberately. Well, go, if you please--get away! And now I'll cry--I'llcry myself sick!'
She dropped down on her knees by a chair, and set to weeping in seriousearnest. Edgar persevered in his resolution as far as the court; therehe lingered. I resolved to encourage him.
'Miss is dreadfully wayward, sir,' I called out. 'As bad as any marredchild: you'd better be riding home, or else she will be sick, only togrieve us.'
The soft thing looked askance through the window: he possessed the powerto depart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse halfkilled, or a bird half eaten. Ah, I thought, there will be no savinghim: he's doomed, and flies to his fate! And so it was: he turnedabruptly, hastened into the house again, shut the door behind him; andwhen I went in a while after to inform them that Earnshaw had come homerabid drunk, ready to pull the whole place about our ears (his ordinaryframe of mind in that condition), I saw the quarrel had merely effected acloser intimacy--had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, andenabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confessthemselves lovers.
Intelligence of Mr. Hindley's arrival drove Linton speedily to his horse,and Catherine to her chamber. I went to hide little Hareton, and to takethe shot out of the master's fowling-piece, which he was fond of playingwith in his insane excitement, to the hazard of the lives of any whoprovoked, or even attracted his notice too much; and I had hit upon theplan of removing it, that he might do less mischief if he did go thelength of firing the gun.