CHAPTER 27
In the next seven days Edgar Linton’s state grew rapidly worse. Catherine could no longer be deluded: she brooded on the dreadful probability of her father’s death, gradually ripening into certainty.
She had not the heart to mention her ride when Thursday came round. I obtained permission to send her out of doors: for her father’s chamber had become her whole world. She grudged each moment that she did not spend bending over his pillow, or seated by his side. She grew pale with watching, and my master gladly dismissed her to what he thought would be a happy change of scene; drawing comfort from the hope that she would not now be left entirely alone after his death.
He had a fixed idea, that, as his nephew resembled him in looks, he would resemble him in mind; for Linton’s letters bore few signs of his defective character. I did not correct the error, since there was no point disturbing his last moments.
We set off on a golden afternoon of August: every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed whoever breathed it, even though dying, might revive. Catherine’s face was just like the landscape – shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer.
We found Linton watching at the same spot as before. He received us with greater animation this time: not the animation of joy, though; it looked more like fear.
‘It is late!’ he said, speaking with difficulty. ‘Is not your father very ill? I thought you wouldn’t come.’
‘Why cannot you say at once you don’t want me?’ cried Catherine. ‘It is strange, Linton, that for the second time you have brought me here apparently to distress us both, and for no reason besides!’
Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half ashamed; but his cousin was out of patience.
‘My father is very ill,’ she said; ‘why am I called from his bedside, when you didn’t really want me?’
‘Catherine, don’t look so angry!’ he murmured. ‘Despise me if you please; I am a worthless, cowardly wretch. Hate my father: but don’t hate me.’
‘Nonsense!’ cried Catherine in a passion. ‘Silly boy! He trembles as if I were really going to touch him! I shall return home: let go my frock! Don’t cry and look so frightened. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct is. Don’t degrade yourself into an abject reptile – don’t!’
With a streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown himself upon the ground: he seemed convulsed with terror.
‘Oh!’ he sobbed, ‘I cannot bear it! Catherine, I’m a traitor, and I dare not tell you! But leave me, and I shall be killed! Dear Catherine, my life is in your hands: and you have said you loved me. You’ll not go, then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you will consent – and he’ll let me die with you!’
My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him. The old feeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she grew thoroughly moved and alarmed.
‘Consent to what?’ she asked. ‘To stay? tell me the meaning of this strange talk, and I will. Be calm, and confess all that weighs on your heart. You wouldn’t injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn’t let any enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I’ll believe you are a coward, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend.’
‘But my father threatened me,’ gasped the boy, ‘and I dread him – I dread him! I dare not tell!’
‘Oh, well!’ said Catherine, with scornful compassion, ‘keep your secret: I’m not afraid!’
He wept wildly, kissing her hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was wondering what the mystery might be, when, hearing a rustle, I looked up and saw Mr. Heathcliff close upon us. He didn’t cast a glance towards my companions, though Linton’s sobs were audible; but hailing me in the hearty tone he assumed to none besides, he said—
‘How are you at the Grange, Nelly? Let us hear. The rumour goes,’ he added, in a lower tone, ‘that Edgar Linton is on his death-bed: perhaps they exaggerate his illness?’
‘No; my master is dying,’ I replied. ‘A sad thing it will be for us all, but a blessing for him!’
‘How long will he last, do you think?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘Because,’ he continued, looking at the two young people, ‘that lad seems determined to beat me; and I’d thank his uncle to be quick, and go before him! Hallo! has the whelp been playing that game long? I did give him some lessons about snivelling. Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton generally?’
‘Lively? No – he has shown the greatest distress,’ I answered. ‘I should say that instead of rambling on the hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a doctor.’
‘He shall be, in a day or two,’ muttered Heathcliff. ‘But first – get up, Linton!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t grovel on the ground. Up, this moment!’
Linton had sunk down in helpless fear. He made several efforts to obey, but had no strength, and fell back again with a moan. Mr. Heathcliff advanced, and lifted him to lean against a ridge of turf.
‘Now,’ said he, with curbed ferocity, ‘I’m getting angry. If you don’t command that paltry spirit of yours – damn you! get up directly!’
‘I will, father,’ he panted. ‘Only, let me alone, or I shall faint. I’ve done as you wished. Catherine will tell you that I – that I – have been cheerful. Ah! keep by me, Catherine; give me your hand.’
‘Take mine,’ said his father; ‘stand on your feet. She’ll lend you her arm: that’s right. You would imagine I was the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excite such horror. Be so kind as to walk home with him, will you? He shudders if I touch him.’
‘Linton dear!’ whispered Catherine, ‘I can’t go to Wuthering Heights: papa has forbidden me. Why are you so afraid?’
‘I’m not to re-enter that house without you!’ he said.
‘Stop!’ cried his father. ‘We’ll respect Catherine’s scruples. Nelly, take him in, and I’ll follow your advice concerning the doctor.’
‘Good,’ replied I. ‘But I must remain with my mistress: minding your son is not my business.’
‘You’ll force me to pinch the baby and make it scream,’ said Heathcliff. ‘Come, then, my hero. Shall I escort you?’
He approached his son once more; but, shrinking back, Linton clung to Cathy, and frantically implored her to accompany him. How could she refuse? We did not know the reason for his dread; but he was powerless under its grip.
We reached the threshold. Catherine walked in and was leading the invalid to a chair; when Mr. Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed, ‘Nelly, I have a mind to be hospitable today: sit down, and allow me to shut the door.’
He shut and locked it also.
‘You shall have tea before you go home,’ he added. ‘Hareton is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and Joseph have a day off; and, though I’m used to being alone, I’d rather have some interesting company. Miss Linton, take your seat by Linton: the present is hardly worth accepting; but I have nothing else to offer. How she does stare! It’s odd how savage I feel towards anything that seems afraid of me! Had I been born where laws are less strict, I should treat myself to a slow vivisection of those two, as an evening’s amusement.’
He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself: ‘By hell! I hate them.’
‘I am not afraid of you!’ exclaimed Catherine. She stepped close up, her black eyes flashing with passion and resolution. ‘Give me that key: I will have it!’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t eat or drink here, if I were starving.’
Heathcliff had the key in his hand. He looked up with surprise at her boldness; or, possibly, reminded by her voice of the person from whom she inherited it. She snatched at the key, and half succeeded in getting it out of his fingers: but he recovered it speedily.
‘Now, Catherine Linton,’ he said, ‘stand off, or I shall knock you down; and that will make Mrs. Dean mad.’
Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its contents again.
‘We wi
ll go!’ she repeated, trying to make the iron muscles relax; and finding that her nails made no impression, she applied her teeth sharply. Heathcliff glanced at me to keep me from interfering. Then he opened his fingers suddenly, but before she could take the key, he seized her and gave her a shower of terrific slaps on both sides of the head.
At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. ‘You villain!’ I began to cry. A touch on the chest silenced me: I am stout, and soon put out of breath; and I staggered dizzily back, feeling ready to burst a blood-vessel.
The scene was over in two minutes. Catherine, released, put her hands to her head, as if she were not sure whether her ears were off or on. She trembled like a reed, poor thing, and leant against the table perfectly bewildered.
‘I know how to chastise children, you see,’ said the scoundrel grimly. ‘Go to Linton now, and cry at your ease! I shall be your father, tomorrow – all the father you’ll have in a few days – and you shall have plenty of that. You can bear plenty; you’re no weakling: you shall have a daily taste, if I catch such a devil of a temper in you again!’
Cathy ran to me instead of to Linton, and knelt down and put her burning cheek on my lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into a corner of the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I dare say, that the correction had alighted on another than him. Mr. Heathcliff, perceiving us all confounded, rose, and made the tea himself. He poured it out, and handed me a cup.
‘Wash away your annoyance,’ he said. ‘It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I’m going out to seek your horses.’
Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit somewhere. We tried the kitchen door, but that was locked: and the windows were too narrow for even Cathy’s little figure.
‘Master Linton,’ I cried, ‘you know what your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us, or I’ll box your ears.’
‘Yes, Linton, you must tell,’ said Catherine. ‘It was for your sake I came; and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse.’
‘Give me some tea – I’m thirsty. Then I’ll tell you,’ he answered. ‘Mrs. Dean, go away. I don’t like you standing over me. Now, Catherine, you are letting your tears fall into my cup. I won’t drink that. Give me another.’
Catherine pushed another cup to him, and wiped her face. I felt disgusted at the little wretch’s composure, since he was no longer in terror for himself. His anguish had subsided as soon as he entered Wuthering Heights; so I guessed he had been menaced if he failed to decoy us there; and now had no further fears.
‘Papa wants us to be married,’ he continued, sipping some tea. ‘And he knows your papa wouldn’t let us marry now; and he’s afraid of my dying if we wait; so we are to be married in the morning, and you are to stay here all night; and, if you do as he wishes, you shall return home next day, and take me with you.’
‘Take you with her, pitiful changeling!’ I exclaimed. ‘You marry? Do you imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy girl, will tie herself to a little perishing monkey like you? You want whipping for bringing us here at all, with your dastardly tricks: and – don’t look so silly! I’ve a good mind to shake you, for your treachery, and your imbecile conceit.’
I did give him a slight shaking; but it brought on the cough. He started moaning and weeping, and Catherine rebuked me.
‘Stay all night? No,’ she said, looking round. ‘Ellen, I’ll burn that door down to get out.’
At once Linton was up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her in his feeble arms sobbing: ‘Won’t you have me, and save me? Oh, darling Catherine! You must obey my father – you must!’
‘I must obey my own,’ she replied, ‘and relieve him from this cruel suspense. The whole night! What would he think? He’ll be distressed already. I’ll either break or burn a way out of the house. Be quiet! I love papa better than you!’ Catherine was near distraught: she persisted that she must go home, and was entreating him when our jailor re-entered.
‘Your horses have trotted off,’ he said. ‘Linton! snivelling again? Have done, and get to bed. In a month or two, my lad, you’ll be able to pay her back with a vigorous hand. There, to bed! Zillah won’t be here tonight; you must undress yourself. Hush! I’ll not come near you: you needn’t fear. By chance, you’ve managed tolerably. I’ll see to the rest.’
He held the door open for his son, who slunk out like a frightened spaniel. Heathcliff locked the door, and approached the fire, where my mistress and I stood silent. Catherine looked up, instinctively raising her hand to her cheek. He scowled on her and muttered, ‘Oh! so you are not afraid of me? Your courage is well disguised: you seem damnably afraid!’
‘I am afraid now,’ she replied, ‘because, if I stay, papa will be miserable: and how can I endure that – when he – when he – Mr. Heathcliff, let me go home! I promise to marry Linton: papa would like me to: and I love him. Why should you wish to force me to do what I’ll willingly do myself?’
‘Let him dare to force you,’ I cried. ‘There’s law in the land, thank God!’
‘Silence!’ said the ruffian. ‘To the devil with you! Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself remarkably in thinking your father will be miserable: I shall not sleep for satisfaction. You could have hit on no surer way of fixing your residence under my roof for the next twenty-four hours than telling me of his misery. As to your promise to marry Linton, I’ll take care you shall keep it; for you shall not quit this place till it is done.’
‘Send Ellen, then, to let papa know I’m safe!’ exclaimed Catherine, weeping bitterly. ‘Or let me be married now. Poor papa! Ellen, he’ll think we’re lost!’
‘Not he! He’ll think you are tired of waiting on him, and have run off for amusement,’ answered Heathcliff. ‘It is quite natural that you should weary of nursing a sick man. Catherine, his happiest days were over when your days began. He cursed you, I dare say, for coming into the world (I did, at least); and he should curse you as he goes out of it. I’d join him. I don’t love you! How should I? Weep away. You’ll be doing plenty of weeping hereafter; unless Linton improves as your father hopes. His letters of advice entertained me vastly. In his last he recommended my jewel to be kind and careful of his. But Linton requires his whole stock of care and kindness for himself: he can play the tyrant well. He’ll undertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and their claws cut. You’ll be able to tell his uncle fine tales of his kindness, when you get home, I assure you.’
‘You’re right there!’ I said; ‘Show your son’s resemblance to yourself, and Miss Cathy will think twice before she takes him!’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he answered; ‘because she must either accept him, or remain a prisoner, till your master dies. I can keep you both concealed here.’
‘I’ll marry him within the hour,’ said Catherine, ‘if I may go home afterwards. Mr. Heathcliff, you’re a cruel man, but you’re not a fiend. If papa thought I had left him on purpose, and if he died before I returned, could I bear to live? I’m going to kneel here, and I’ll not get up till you look back at me! No, don’t turn away! do look! I don’t hate you. I’m not angry that you struck me. Have you never loved anybody in all your life, uncle? never? Ah! you must look once. I’m so wretched, you can’t help pitying me.’
‘Keep your lizard’s fingers off; and move away, or I’ll kick you!’ cried Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. ‘I’d rather be hugged by a snake. How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I detest you!’ He shook himself, as if his flesh crept; and thrust back his chair. I opened my mouth to abuse him; but was silenced by a threat.
It was growing dark – we heard voices at the garden-gate. Our host hurried out instantly: after two or three minutes, he returned alone.
‘I thought it had been your cousin Hareton,’ I observed to Catherine. ‘I wish he would arrive! He might take our part.’
‘It was three servants sent to seek you from the Grange,’ said Heathcliff, overhearing me. ‘You should hav
e called through the window; but that chit is glad you didn’t. She’s glad to be obliged to stay, I’m certain.’
At learning the chance we had missed, we both wept; and he allowed us to wail on till nine o’clock. Then he bid us go upstairs to Zillah’s chamber; and I whispered to my companion to obey: thinking perhaps we might get through the window there, or out by the garret skylight. The window, however, was too narrow, and the garret was locked.
We neither of us lay down. Catherine waited by the window, and watched anxiously for morning; a deep sigh being her only answer when I begged her to rest. I sat in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment on myself; for, that dismal night, I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I.
At seven o’clock he came for Catherine. She ran to the door immediately, and he pulled her out. When I rose to follow, he turned the lock again. I demanded my release.
‘Be patient,’ he replied; ‘I’ll send up your breakfast in a while.’
I thumped on the panels, and rattled the latch angrily. He told me I must endure it another hour, and then went away. I endured it two or three hours, until at length, I heard a footstep: not Heathcliff’s.
‘I’ve brought you something to eat,’ said a voice; ‘open t’ door!’
It was Hareton, laden with food. ‘Take it,’ he added, thrusting the tray into my hand, and retired, ignoring my prayers.
I remained enclosed the whole day, and the whole of the next night; and another, and another. Five nights and four days I remained, seeing nobody but Hareton; and he was a model jailor: surly, and dumb, and deaf to every appeal to his compassion.