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Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал

Emily Brontё

Wuthering Heights

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Emily Brontё
Wuthering Heights

Chapter I

1801. I have just returned from a visit to my landlord. This is certainly a beautiful country! And Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair. A capital fellow! We met yesterday.

'Mr. Heathcliff? I'm Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I hope that I don't bother you by my perseverance occupating Thrushcross Grange[1]: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts – '

'Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing. 'I won't allow anyone to bother me, but walk in!'

The 'walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and in fact he seemed to say 'Go to Hell'. But eventually he opened the gate and invited me to enter. As we entered the court, he called,

'Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse; and bring up some wine.'

Joseph was an old man. 'The Lord help us!' he said and helped me from my horse.

Wuthering Heights[2] is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's house. The word 'Wuthering' is connected with the stormy weather in this region. Above the door, I detected the date '1500,' and the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.'

We came into the family sitting-room, without any lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house'. Above the chimney there were some old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols[3]. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs were high-backed, primitive structures.

Mr. Heathcliff is a dark-skinned gipsy in appearance, in dress and manners a gentleman. He has an erect and handsome figure; and is rather morose. Possibly, some people suspect under-bred pride; but I think it is nothing of the sort. I know, by instinct, he is so reserved because of an aversion to show his feeling.

When he left me to go to the cellar with Joseph and bring some wine, however, I was attacked by several large dogs, they ran into the kitchen. Happily, a woman came in to save me. She had bare arms and red cheeks, and she rushed into the midst of us with a frying-pan, and used that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically.

'What the devil is the matter?' asked Heathcliff.

I did not like this inhospitable treatment.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'Those animals of yours, sir. You will leave a stranger with tigers soon!'

'They won't touch the persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me. 'The dogs must be vigilant. A glass of wine?'

'No, thank you.'

'Come, come,' he said, 'you are uneasy, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so rare in this house that I and my dogs hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir?'

Chapter II

Yesterday I went to see Heathcliff again, but nobody answered when I knocked for admittance.

Only the dogs howled inside. It was snowing hard. Suddenly, when a young man without coat, but with a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and at length[4] we arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment. I was formerly received there. The fire was burning; and near the table, laid for an evening meal, I observed a lady whose existence I had never previously suspected. I bowed and waited. Will she ask me to take a seat? She looked at me, leant back in her chair, and remained motionless and silent.

'Rough weather!' I remarked.

She did not open her mouth. I stared – she stared also. She looked at me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.

'Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly. 'He'll be in soon.'

She was not very amiable with me – in fact, quite the opposite. But I noticed that she was slender and beautiful, with curly blond hair. I could not remember when I had last seen such a beauty. But our conversation did not go far. Meanwhile, the shabby young man was standing

in front of the fireplace. He looked down on me from the corner of his eyes. Was there some mortal feud between us? No. Is he a servant here? His dress and speech were both rude; his thick brown curls and whiskers were rough and uncultivated, and his hands were brown like those of a common worker. Five minutes afterwards the entrance of Heathcliff relieved me from my uncomfortable thoughts.

'You see, sir, I have come, according to promise!' I exclaimed; 'and I fear I shall stay here for half an hour, if you afford me shelter.'

'Half an hour?' he said. He shook the white flakes from his clothes; 'I wonder you selected the snow-storm to go out. Do you know that you risk? You may be lost in the marshes.'

'Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads. He might stay at the Grange till morning – could you spare me one?'

'No, I can't.'

'Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own luck.'

'Umph! Are you going to drink tea?' demanded he of the shabby coat, which was shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.

'Will he drink too?' she asked Heathcliff.

'Get it ready, will you?' was the answer.

It uttered so savagely that I started. The tone in which the words were said revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a good fellow. When the preparations were finished, he invited me with – 'Now, sir, bring forward your chair.' And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round the table in silence.

I decided to begin a conversation in order to dispel cloud. They cannot sit so grim every day!

I learnt soon that Mrs. Heathcliff wasn't Heathcliff's wife, but his daughter-in-law, and this clown next to me wasn't his son – or, indeed, her husband, either.

'My name is Hareton Earnshaw,' the youth growled; 'and I advise you to respect it!'

'I've shown no disrespect,' was my reply.

I laughed internally at the dignity with which he announced himself. I began to feel out of place[5] in that pleasant family circle.

'I don't think it possible for me to get home now without a guide,' I exclaimed. 'The roads will be buried. I can scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.'

'Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch,' said Heathcliff.

'And what about me? What to do?' I continued, with irritation.

There was no reply to my question. I looked round and saw that Joseph was bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs. and Mrs. Heathcliff was leaning over the fire.

'Oh, wicked, wicked!' gasped he; 'may the Lord deliver us from evil!'

'Go away, or I'll hurt you seriously! I know some black magic. I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay! and the first who passes the limits I fix, will… I won't say what he will do – but you'll see! Go, I'm looking at you!'

The little witch put a mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and Joseph, trembling with sincere horror, hurried out, praying, and ejaculating 'wicked' as he went. I thought her conduct was dreary fun. As we were alone, I tried to talk to her.

'Mrs. Heathcliff,' I said earnestly, 'you must excuse me for troubling you. I presume, because, with that face, I'm sure you are very good-hearted. Please, point out some landmarks by which I may know my way home. I have no idea how to get there!'

'Take the road you came,' she answered. 'It is brief advice, but rather wise.'

'Then, if I am dead in a bog or a pit full of snow, your conscience won't whisper that it is partly your fault?'

'How so? I cannot escort you. They won't let me go to the end of the garden wall.'

'You! I'll be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold on such a night. I want you to tell me my way, not to show it: or else to persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give me a guide.'

'Who? Himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph and I. Which will you have?'

'Are there no boys at the farm?'

'No; those are all.'

'Then, it means that I am compelled to stay.'

'That you must talk to your host. I have nothing to do with it.'

'I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more rash journeys on these hills,' cried Heathcliff's stern voice from the kitchen entrance. 'Are you going to stay here? I don't keep accommodations for visitors. You must share a bed with Hareton or Joseph, if you want.'

'I can sleep on a chair in this room,' I replied.

'No, no! A stranger is a stranger. I don't care whether you are rich or poor. It will not suit me to permit anyone to stay here while I am off!' said the unmannerly wretch.

It was an end. I uttered an expression of disgust, and pushed past him into the yard. And I ran against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so dark that I could not see the means of exit. As I wandered round, I heard another specimen of their civil behaviour amongst each other. At first the young man appeared about to befriend me.

'I'll go with him to the park,' he said.

'You'll go with him to hell!' exclaimed his master. 'And who will look after the horses, eh?'

'A man's life is of more importance: somebody must go,' murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected.

'Not at your command!' retorted Hareton.

'Then I hope his ghost will haunt you. And I hope Mr. Heathcliff will never get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin,' she answered, sharply.

'Hearken, hearken, she's cursing them!' muttered Joseph.

The old man was sitting nearby. He was milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously. I promised to send it back in the morning, and rushed to the nearest postern.

'Master, master, he has stolen my lantern!' shouted the old man. 'Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey Wolf, hold him, hold him!'

I opened the little door, and two hairy monsters flew at my throat, bearing me down, and extinguishing the light. A mingled guffaw from Heathcliff and Hareton made me furious. I was angry and humiliated. Fortunately, the beasts were stretching their paws, and yawning, and flourishing their tails. They were not going to devour me alive. But I was forced to lie till their malignant masters delivered me. Then, hatless and trembling with wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out – with several incoherent threats of retaliation.

The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the nose, and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded. I don't know what could happen next. But there appeared one person rather more rational than myself, and more benevolent than my entertainer. This was Zillah, the stout housewife; who at length issued forth to inquire into the nature of the uproar. She did not dare to attack her master, and turned her vocal artillery against the younger scoundrel.

'Well, Mr. Earnshaw,' she cried, 'I wonder what you'll start next? Are we going to murder people on our doors? I see this house will never be good – look at the poor lad! Sir, you must not go on so. Come in, and I'll cure that: there now.'

With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of icy water down my neck, and pulled me into the kitchen. Mr. Heathcliff followed. His accidental merriment expired quickly in his habitual moroseness.

I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint. So I was compelled to accept lodgings under his roof. He told Zillah to give me a glass of brandy, and then passed on to the inner room. She condoled with me on my sorry predicament, and ushered me to bed.

Chapter III

She led me upstairs and recommended to hide the candle and not make noise. Her master has odd ideas about the room she will put me in. I asked the reason. She did not know, she answered: she had only lived there a year or two; and they had many strange things here.

So 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 windows near the top. I put my candle on the shelf and felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and everyone else.

The shelf had books on it; 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.

Catherine's library was select, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary. 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 I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph, – rudely, yet powerfully sketched. An immediate interest aroused in me, and I began to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

'An awful Sunday. I wish my father were back again. Hindley is a detestable creature – his conduct to Heathcliff is horrible – H. and I are going to rebel – we took our initiatory step this evening.

'All day was flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so we prayed in the barn! On Sunday evenings we played, and 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 crash 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 – foolish behaviour. But they did not like the way we behaved, so soon we both were thrown into the back kitchen, where we awaited our punishment.

My companion suggested using the dairywoman's cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion – 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.

'Poor Heathcliff!' she wrote. 'Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won't let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more. He says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders. He is blaming our father (how dares 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, so I sank in bed, and fell asleep. I began to dream, 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 somehow we got to the church, then to the forest. I touched a three-branch – and cold little fingers clutched my 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?'

'Catherine Linton. I've come home: I lost my way on the moor!'

As it spoke, I saw a child's face looking through the window.

'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 have been a waif for twenty years!'

A feeble scratching outside – and the pile of books moved. I tried to jump up; but could not stir; and so cried aloud, out of fright. Suddenly, hasty footsteps approached my door; somebody pushed it open, and a light glimmered through: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer,

'Is anyone here?'

I considered it best to confess my presence.

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. His agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

'It is only your guest, sir,' I called out. 'I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep. It was a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

'Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! Go to…' 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. 'Who was it? I'll turn them out of the house this moment!'

'It was your servant Zillah,' I replied, rapidly resuming my garments. 'I don't care if you do it, Mr. Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted. Well, it is – swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason to shut it up, I assure you. No one will thank you for a sleep 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!'

'If the little fiend gets in at the window, she probably will strangle me!' I returned. 'Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called – she is a wicked little soul! She tells me she has been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal sins!'

Then I realized Catherine did actually mention Heathcliff in her diaries and blushed at my inconsideration.

'What do you mean by that?' thundered Heathcliff, 'How – how dare you, under my roof?' Heathcliff reacted very emotionally.

'Sir, I mean it,' I said.

'We go to bed at nine in winter, and rise at four,' said my host, suppressing a groan: and dashing a tear from his eyes. 'Mr. Lockwood,' he added, 'you may go into my room. 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. I'm now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society. A sensible man must 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 go away! 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, 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 existense; 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. I drew off, angry to listen at all, and vexed. Why did I relate my ridiculous nightmare? It produced that agony that was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously to the lower regions, and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of fire, 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.

In the morning, I had no desire to enjoy a combat between Heathcliff and his daughter-in law, so I declined joining their breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, escaped into the free air, now clear, and still, and cold.

Chapter IV

That evening, at Thrushcross Grange, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it.

'You have lived here a considerable time,' I said; 'did you say sixteen years?'

'Eighteen, sir: I came when the mistress was married, to wait on her[6]; after she died, the master retained me for his housekeeper. Ah, times are greatly changed since then!'

'Yes,' I remarked, 'you've seen a good many changes, I suppose?'

'I have: and troubles too,' she said.

Then I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff had left Thrushcross Grange, and preferred to live in a situation and residence so much inferior.

'Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?' I inquired.

'Rich, sir!' she returned. 'He has a lot of money, and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer house than this: but he's very mean. And if he hears of a good tenant he won't miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange that people can be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!'

'He had a son, it seems?'

'Yes, he had one – he is dead.'

'And that young lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?'

'Yes.'

'Where did she come from originally?'

'Why, sir, she is my late master's daughter: Catherine Linton was her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing[7]!'

'What! Catherine Linton?' I exclaimed, astonished.

But a minute's reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine.

'Then,' I continued, 'my predecessor's name was Linton?'

'It was.'

'And who is that Earnshaw: Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr. Heathcliff? Are they relations?'

'No; he is the late Mrs. Linton's nephew.'

'The young lady's cousin, then?'

'Yes; and her husband was her cousin also: one on the mother's, the other on the father's side: Heathcliff married Mr. Linton's sister.'

'I see the house at Wuthering Heights has “Earnshaw” carved over the front door. Are they an old family?'

'Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us – I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights? I beg pardon for asking; but I want to hear how she is.'

'Mrs. Heathcliff? She looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think, not very happy.'

'Oh dear, I don't wonder! And how did you like the master?'

'A rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?'

'Indeed! The less you meddle with him the better. I know all about it: except where he was born, and who were his parents, and how he got his money at first. And Hareton was cast out like a dog! The unfortunate lad is the only one in all this parish that does not guess how he was cheated.'

'Well, Mrs. Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to sit and talk.'

And so she told me the whole story.

Before I came to live here, she said, I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my mother had nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father. I used to play with the children, I helped a little, too. One fine summer morning – it was the beginning of harvest, I remember – Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, went to Liverpool for a short time. But it seemed a long time to us all – the three days of his absence. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time on the third evening, but only about eleven o'clock, the door opened, and the master stepped in. He threw himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, as he was exhausted.

'But see here, wife!' he said, opening his great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms. 'You must take it as a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came from the devil.'

We crowded round, and there was a dirty, ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk. Indeed, its face looked older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its feet, it only stared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors. She was angry, asking how he could bring that gipsy into the house, when they had their own children to feed. The master, apparently, saw the child, starving and houseless, in the streets of Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Nobody knew to whom it belonged. Well, the conclusion was, that my mistress got calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with the children. He promised some presents for them, but they all got lost or broken while he was attending to the stranger. Hindley and Cathy were not happy about it, of course. They entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room. I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping it might go in the morbibg. By chance, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw's door, and there he found it. Inquiries were made; I was obliged to confess. Because of my cowardice and inhumanity, I was sent out of the house.

On coming back a few days afterwards, I found they had christened him 'Heathcliff': it was the name of a son who died in childhood. Miss Cathy and he were now very close; but Hindley hated him. To say the truth, I did the same. We plagued and treated him shamefully: for I wasn't reasonable enough to feel my injustice, and the mistress never protected him, too.

He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment. He was standing Hindley's blows without winking. This endurance made old Earnshaw furious; he believed all the boy said (and he said precious little, and generally the truth), and loved him more than Cathy, who was too mischievous and wayward.

So, from the very beginning, he was an apple of discord in the house. At Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years after, the young master, Hindley, saw his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's affections and his privileges. I sympathised a while; but when the children fell ill with the measles, and I had to tend them, I changed my mind. Heathcliff was as uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble. Thus Hindley lost me, his last ally. Heathcliff complained so seldom, indeed, even when he got seriously beaten by his brother, that I really thought him not vindictive. I was deceived completely, as you will hear.

Chapter V

In the course of time Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He was active and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly. When he had to always stay indoors by the fire he became irritable, especially if anyone attempted to domineer over his favourite.

At last, our curate advised to send Hindley to college; and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said his son wasn't able enough.

I hoped heartily to have peace now. We might live tolerably, but for two people – Miss Cathy, and Joseph, the servant: you saw him, I think. He is the most wearisome selfrighteous Pharisee, but he made a great impression on Mr. Earnshaw. The more feeble the master became, the more influence he gained. He was relentless in worrying him about his soul's concerns, and about ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged him to regard Hindley as a reprobate; and, night after night, he told tales against Heathcliff and Catherine.

Cathy was wild and wicked – but she had the bonniest eye, the sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish: and, after all, I believe she meant no harm. She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him. She had no idea why her father was so cross, either. His peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him. She was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words. She was turning Joseph's religious curses into ridicule, and doing just what her father hated most – showing how her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness. But master couldn't forgive her even when she tried to be good. That made her cry, at first. Then she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.

Mr. Earnshaw died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by the fireside. Before he fell asleep, his last phrase to his daughter was,

'Why cannot you always be a good girl, Cathy?'

And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered,

'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?'

But she kissed his hand, and promised to sing for him. Then I told her to hush, and we all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour. After that, the master never woke up.

Chapter VI

Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and he brought a wife with him! What she was, and where she was born, he never informed us. Probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her. He kept the union from his father. I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour.

Young Earnshaw was changed considerably in the three years of his absence. On the very day of his return, he told Joseph and me we must now live in the back-kitchen. His wife expressed pleasure at everything she saw. She was glad to find a sister among her new acquaintance, too. She chatted to Catherine, and kissed her, and gave her many presents, at the beginning. Her affection tired very soon, however, and when she grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical. A few words from her, showing dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his old hatred of the boy. He drove him from their company to the servants. He stopped his studies. Heathcliff had to work outdoors instead.

Heathcliff bore this pretty well at first, because Cathy taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields. They both were growing up as rude as savages. It was one of their chief amusements to run away to the moors in the morning and remain there all day, and later they only laughed at punishment.

One Sunday evening, they were banished from the sitting-room for making a noise. When I went to call them to supper, I could discover them nowhere. At last, Hindley in a passion told us to bolt the doors, and ordered not to let them in that night. In a while, I distinguished steps coming up the road, and the light of a lantern glimmered through the gate. I threw a shawl over my head and ran out. I wanted to prevent them from waking Mr. Earnshaw. There was Heathcliff, by himself.

'Where is Miss Catherine?' I cried hurriedly. 'No accident, I hope?'

'At Thrushcross Grange,' he answered; 'and I wanted to be there too, but they had not the manners[8] to ask me to stay'.

He told me then they had run to see, through the window, how the Lintons were spending their evening. There they saw Edgar Linton and his two sisters arguing very silly over petting the dog. They laughed and made themselves discovered, and a bulldog ran and bit Cathy by her ankle. At first the household thought our children were thieves. Then they recognized Catherine for what she was. Then they sent Heathcliff off and left the girl there to take care of Catherine. The worst thing for Heathcliff was that she liked it there – by the fire, in a family circle, everyone adoring and admiring her. Heathcliff, of course, felt heartbroken.

The luckless adventure made Earnshaw furious, and no surprise. And then Mr. Linton paid us a visit himself on the morrow, and read the young master such a lecture on the road. Heathcliff received no flogging. But the first word he speaks to Miss Catherine will ensure a dismissal. Mrs. Earnshaw undertook to keep her sister-in-law in due restraint when she returned home.

Chapter VII

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks: till Christmas. By that time her ankle was cured, and her manners much improved. The mistress visited her often in the interval, and commenced her plan of reform. She was trying to raise her selfrespect with fine clothes and flattery, which she took readily. So instead of a wild little savage she became quite a lady. She was beautifully dressed, and careful not to stain her frock; and then she looked round for Heathcliff. Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw watched anxiously their meeting. At first, it was hard to discover Heathcliff.

'You may come forward,' cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his discomfiture. 'You may come and wish Miss Catherine welcome, like the other servants.'

Cathy flew to embrace him, kissed him, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaiming,

'Why, how black and cross you look! and how – how funny and grim! But that's because I'm used to Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me? Shake hands at least! I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was only that you looked odd. If you wash your face and brush your hair, it will be all right: but you are so dirty!'

'You needn't touch me!' he answered, snatching away his hand. 'I shall be as dirty as I please: and I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty.'

With that he ran out of the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw had invited the Lintons to spend the Christmas morning at Wuthering Heights. The invitation was accepted, on one condition: Mrs. Linton wanted to keep her darlings carefully apart from that 'naughty swearing boy.' And the latter refused to change into a better set of clothes, or have a piece of cake; while Cathy was enjoying herself with her brother and sister-in-law. She did not understand what had happened to Heathcliff.

Soon, though, he decided to look and behave decently. I told him not to feel ashamed of his origin – why, his father can be the Emperor of China, and his mother the Queen of India! Edgar Linton was but a doll compared to him. But of course it all was spoiled.

Heathcliff's violent nature was not prepared to endure humiliation from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He threw a bowl of hot apple sauce into Edgar after the latter laughed at him. As a result, Heathcliff got punished, the Linton children started weeping to go home. Cathy was standing confounded, she was blushing. She blamed the Lintons at first, then tried to dinner, then cried, then asked to liberate Heathcliff. She did like the dinner and the music and the dance, though.

It was only late in the evening that she managed to talk to the boy through the door. I let the poor things converse undisturbed. When I came back, I heard her voice within. The little monkey had crept by the skylight of one garret, along the roof, into the skylight of the other. It was with the utmost difficulty I could coax her out again. When she came, Heathcliff came with her. She wanted to take him into the kitchen and feed him. He went down: I set him a stool by the fire, and offered him a quantity of good things. But he was sick and could eat little, and my attempts to entertain him were thrown away. He leant his two elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands and remained rapt in dumb meditation. On my inquiring the subject of his thoughts, he answered gravely,

'I'm trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do! Leave me alone, and I'll plan it out. While I'm thinking of that I don't feel pain.'

Well, sir, you must allow me to pass to the next summer – the summer of 1778, that is, nearly twenty-three years ago.

Chapter VIII

On the morning of a fine June day my first little nursling, and the last of the ancient Earnshaw family, was born. We were busy with the hay in a far-away field, when the girl that usually brought our breakfasts came across the meadow and up the lane, calling me as she ran.

'Oh, such a grand baby!' she panted out. 'The finest lad that ever breathed! But the doctor says Missis will die. He says she's been in a consumption these many months. You must come home directly. Nurse it, Nelly!'

When we got to Wuthering Heights, Mr. Earnshaw stood at the front door; and, as I passed in, I asked,

'How is the baby?'

'Nearly ready, Nell!' he replied, with a cheerful smile.

'And the mistress? The doctor says she's – '

'Damn the doctor!' he interrupted. 'Frances is quite right: she'll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell her that I'll come, if she promise not to talk? I left her because she did not hold her tongue. And she must – tell her Mr. Kenneth says she must be quiet.'

Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that heart never failed her; and her husband was affirming furiously that her health improved every day. She seemed to believe him; but one night, while leaning on his shoulder, and trying to get up, a fit of coughing took her – a very slight one. He raised her in his arms; she put her two hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.

As the girl had anticipated, the child Hareton fell wholly into my hands. Mr. Earnshaw was contented with it. For himself, he grew desperate: his sorrow was of that kind that will not lament. He neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied. The servants could not bear his tyrannical and evil conduct long. Joseph and I were the only two that stayed.

The master's behaviour formed a pretty example for Catherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, the lad was possessed of something diabolical at that period. He delighted to witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption. Nobody decent came near us, at last; unless Edgar Linton's visits to Miss Cathy were an exception. At fifteen she was the queen of the countryside; she had no peer; and she did turn out a haughty, headstrong creature! Edgar Linton was my late master: that is his portrait over the fireplace. Can you see it?

Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I saw a soft-featured face, resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples. The eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful. I did not marvel how Catherine Earnshaw forgot her first friend for such an individual. I marvelled much how he could love Catherine Earnshaw.

'A very agreeable portrait. Is it like?'

'Yes, but he looked better when he was smiled; that is his everyday countenance.'

Catherine kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since her five-weeks' residence among them. Mr. Edgar seldom found courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had a terror of Earnshaw's reputation. Catherine was torn between Heathcliff and Linton. She behaved differently with one and with the other. I laughed at her perplexities and untold troubles, but she, so proud and independent, finally, came to me to confess: there was not a soul else that might be an adviser.

Mr. Hindley went from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff had a holiday. Heathcliff reached the age of sixteen then, I think. He did not have bad features, was not stupid. But he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness. He didn't study anything. He was trying to study with Catherine, but in vain. Finally he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness. Catherine and he were constant companions; but he ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses.

On that day he came into the house to announce his intention to do nothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathy to arrange her dress. She managed, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her brother's absence, and was then preparing to receive him.

'Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?' asked Heathcliff. 'Are you going anywhere?'

She tried to hide the truth, but it was not possible. Heathcliff asked her to stay with him and ignore those 'foolish friends of hers'.

'Look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, 'The crosses are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I've marked every day.'

'Yes – very foolish!' replied Catherine, in a peevish tone. 'And where is the sense of that?'

'To show that I take notice,' said Heathcliff.

'Must I always sit with you?' she demanded, growing more irritated. 'What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do, either!'

'You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy!' exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.

'It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,' she muttered.

Her companion rose up, but he didn't have time to express his feelings further, for young

Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight. Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out.

The contrast between their appearance and speech was like between a bleak, hilly, coal country and a beautiful fertile valley. Mr. Earnshaw gave me orders not to leave the two alone, so I refused to go. Then Catherine tried to get rid of me, and she stamped her foot, and I went away, shaken.

Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on the floor. He saw my tears and started crying himself. He sobbed out complaints against 'wicked aunt Cathy'. Cathy drew her fury on to his unlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor child waxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliver him. In an instant she turned and slapped him on his ear. The insulted visitor was going to leave, but Catherine then sobbed so dreadfully that he stayed. And, after a while, I saw the quarrel effected a closer intimacy: they forgot of friendship, and confessed themselves lovers.

Chapter IX

When Hindley arrived, I tried to conceal little Hareton, because his father might kiss him to death or to throw in the fire. But he saw me, and took the child from me.

Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all his might, and redoubled his yells when he carried him upstairs and lifted him over the banister. As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below. He almost forgot what he had in his hands.

'Who is that?' he asked, hearing the footsteps.

It was Heathcliff; and, at the instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden spring, delivered himself from the careless grasp that held him, and fell. Heathcliff arrived underneath just at the critical moment and caught the boy. But his face changed when he realized he had saved his enemy's son.

I preferred to die than give the baby in Mr. Earnshaw's hands again. He laughed and poured himself a drink. Some minutes later, I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song, when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her room, put her head in, and whispered,

'Are you alone, Nelly?'

'Yes, Miss,' I replied.

She entered and approached the hearth. I supposed she was going to say something, and looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder, she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence. I resumed my song.

'Where's Heathcliff?' she said, interrupting me.

'He is working in the stable,' was my answer.

There followed another long pause.

'Oh, dear!' she cried at last. 'I'm very unhappy!'

'A pity,' observed I. 'You're hard to please; so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content!'

'Nelly, will you keep a secret for me? I want to know what I to do. Today, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed. Now was I wrong?'

'There are many things to be considered before that question can be answered properly.

It all seems smooth and good, Miss Cathy, why are you sad? Where is the obstacle?'

'Here! and here!' replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast: 'in whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I'm wrong!'

'That's very strange! I cannot understand.'

'Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?' she said, suddenly, after some minutes' reflection.

'Yes, now and then,' I answered.

'And so do I. I've dreamt that I was in Heaven. But Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth. That will explain my secret. I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven. If the wicked man here did not humiliate Heathcliff… It will degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he will never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as frost from fire.'

When this speech ended, I became sensible of Heathcliff's presence. I noticed a slight movement, turned my head, and saw him rise from the bench. He went out noiselessly. He listened. Catherine says it will degrade her to marry him! Then he stayed to hear no further.

'Oh, I'm not going to forget Heathcliff! That's not what I intend,' Cathy continued, 'I will be Mrs. Linton. Edgar must shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least. He will, when he learns my true feelings towards him. Nelly, I see now you think me a selfish wretch. But if Heathcliff and I are married, we will be beggars. Whereas, if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power.'

'With your husband's money, Miss Catherine? I think that's the worst motive of yours.'

'It is not,' retorted she; 'it is the best!'

She paused, and hid her face in the folds of my gown; but I jerked it forcibly away. I was out of patience with her folly!

'If I can make any sense of your nonsense, Miss,' I said, 'it only goes to convince me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake in marrying; or else that you are a wicked, unprincipled girl. But trouble me with no more secrets: I'll not promise to keep them.'

'You'll keep that?' she asked, eagerly.

'No, I'll not promise,' I repeated.

She was about to insist, when the entrance of Joseph finished our conversation. Catherine removed her seat to a corner, and nursed Hareton, while I made the supper.

In the evening she wanted to talk to Heathcliff, but he was not at home. Night fell, however, Catherine was not tranquil. She was wandering to and fro, from the gate to the door, in a state of agitation.

About midnight, while we still sat up, the storm came over the Heights in full fury. There was a violent wind, as well as thunder, and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building. Heathcliff had disappeared since the evening. One day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her. From that period, for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me. Joseph fell under a ban also. Catherine felt ill, she was pale, and cross, and sad. The doctor says that she won't bear much. Her brother, meanwhile, wished earnestly to see her bring honour to the family by an alliance with the Lintons! Edgar Linton was infatuated and believed himself the happiest man alive on the day he led her to Gimmerton Chapel, three years subsequent to his father's death.

Much against my inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights and accompany her here. Little Hareton was nearly five years old, and I had just begun to teach him his letters. We made a sad parting; but Catherine's tears were more powerful than ours.

Chapter X

Mr. Heathcliff has just honoured me with a call. About seven days ago he sent me a brace of grouse – the last of the season. Scoundrel! He is not altogether guiltless in this illness of mine; and I wanted to tell him about it. But, alas! How can I offend a man who was charitable enough to sit at my bedside and talk on some other subject than treatment? This is quite an easy interval. I am too weak to read; yet I feel as if I can enjoy something interesting. Why not let Mrs. Dean finish her tale? I'll ring: she'll be delighted to find me capable of talking cheerfully.

* * *

I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange, she continued; and, to my agreeable disappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared to expect. She seemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton. Even to his sister she showed plenty of affection. They were both very attentive to her comfort, certainly.

On one mellow evening in September, I was coming from the garden with a heavy basket of apples which I was gathering. I set my burden on the house-steps by the kitchen door, when I heard a voice behind me say,

'Nelly, is that you?'

It was a deep voice, and foreign in tone; yet there was something in the manner which made it sound familiar. I turned around. I saw a man. A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow, and half covered with black whiskers; the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular.

I remembered the eyes. It was Heathcliff.

'Yes, it is me, Heathcliff,' he said, glancing from me up to the windows. 'Are they at home? Where is she? Nelly, you are not glad! You needn't be so disturbed. Is she here? Speak! I want to have one word with her – your mistress. Go, and say some person from Gimmerton desires to see her.'

'How will she take it?[9]' I exclaimed. 'What will she do? The surprise bewilders me – it will put her out of her head! And you are Heathcliff! But altered! I can't understand. Were you in the army?'

'Go and carry my message,' he interrupted, impatiently. 'I'm in hell till you do!'

That I did, and Miss Cathy went out to meet her visitor. Mr. Linton was shocked when I told him.

'Oh, Edgar, Edgar!' cried she, coming back into the room and flinging her arms round his neck. 'Oh, Edgar darling! Heathcliff's come back – he himself!' And she tightened her embrace. 'I know you didn't like him. Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now. Shall I tell him to come up?'

I descended and found Heathcliff. He was waiting under the porch, evidently anticipating an invitation to enter. He followed my guidance without waste of words, and I ushered him into the presence of the master and mistress. Their flushed cheeks betrayed signs of warm talking. But the lady's glowed with another feeling when her friend appeared at the door. She sprang forward, took both his hands, and led him to Linton. Then she seized Linton's reluctant fingers and crushed them into his.

Now I was amazed, more than ever, to behold the transformation of Heathcliff. He has become a tall, athletic, well-formed man. Beside him my master seemed quite slender and youth-like. A half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the depressed brows and eyes full of black fire, but it was subdued. Heathcliff dropped his slight hand, and stood looking at him coolly till he chose to speak.

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Примечания

1

Thrushcross Grange – Мыс Скворцов

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2

Wuthering Heights – Грозовой перевал

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3

horse-pistols – седельные пистолеты

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4

at length – наконец

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5

out of place – не на своём месте

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6

to wait on her – ухаживать за ней

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7

poor thing – бедняжка

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8

they had not the manners – у них не хватило вежливости

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9

How will she take it? – Как она это примет?

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