Chapter IX #3
I went and called, but got no answer. On returning, I whispered to Catherine that he had heard a good part of what she said, I was sure; and told how I saw him quit the kitchen just as she complained of her brother’s conduct regarding him.
She jumped up in a fine fright—flung Hareton onto the settle, and ran to seek for her friend herself, not taking leisure to consider why she was so flurried, or how her talk would have affected him.
She was absent such a while that Joseph proposed we should wait no longer.
He cunningly conjectured they were staying away in order to avoid hearing his protracted blessing.
They were ‘ill eneugh for ony fahl manners,’ he affirmed.
And, on their behalf, he added that night a special prayer to the usual quarter of an hour’s supplication before meat, and would have tacked another to the end of the grace, had not his young mistress broken in upon him with a hurried command that he must run down the road, and, wherever Heathcliff had rambled, find and make him re-enter directly!
‘I want to speak to him, and I must, before I go upstairs,’ she said. ‘And the gate is open, he is somewhere out of hearing; for he would not reply, though I shouted at the top of the fold as loud as I could.’
Joseph objected at first; she was too much in earnest, however, to suffer contradiction; and, at last, he placed his hat on his head, and walked grumbling forth.
Meantime, Catherine paced up and down the floor, exclaiming—
‘I wonder where he is—I wonder where he can be! What did I say, Nelly? I’ve forgotten. Was he vexed at my bad humour this afternoon? Dear! tell me what I’ve said to grieve him? I do wish he’d come. I do wish he would!’
‘What a noise for nothing!’ I cried, though rather uneasy myself.
‘What a trifle scares you! It’s surely no great cause of alarm that Heathcliff should take a moonlight saunter on the moors, or even lie too sulky to speak to us, in the hay-loft.
I’ll engage he’s lurking there. See if I don’t ferret him out! ’
I departed to renew my search; its result was disappointment, and Joseph’s quest ended in the same.
‘Yon lad gets war un war!’ observed he on re-entering.
‘He’s left th’ yate ut t’ full swing, and miss’s pony has trodden dahn two rigs uh corn, un plottered through, raight o’er intuh t’ meadow!
Hahsomdiver, t’ maister ‘ull play t’ divil to-morn, and he’ll do weel.
He’s patience itsseln wi’ sich careless, offald craters—patience itsseln he is!
Bud he’ll nut be soa allus—yah’s see, all on ye!
Yah munn’t drive him aht uf his heead fur nowt! ’
‘Have you found Heathcliff, you ass?’ interrupted Catherine. ‘Have you been looking for him, as I ordered?’
‘Aw sud more likker look for th’ horse,’ he replied. ‘It ‘ud be tuh more sense. Bud, Aw can look for norther horse, nur man uf a neeght loike this—as black as t’ chimbley! und Hathecliff’s noan t’ chap tuh coom ut maw whistle—happen he’ll be less hard uh hearing wi ye!’
It was a very dark evening for summer: the clouds appeared inclined to thunder, and I said we had better all sit down; the approaching rain would be certain to bring him home without further trouble.
However, Catherine would not be persuaded into tranquillity.
She kept wandering to and fro, from the gate to the door, in a state of agitation which permitted no repose, and at length took up a permanent situation on one side of the wall, near the road; where, heedless of my expostulations, and the growling thunder, and the great drops that began to plash around her, she remained, calling at intervals, and then listening, and then crying outright.
She beat Hareton, or any child, at a good, passionate fit of crying.
About midnight, while we still sat up, the storm came rattling 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; a huge bough fell across the roof, and knocked down a portion of the east chimney-stack, sending a clatter of stones and soot into the kitchen fire.
We thought a bolt had fallen in the middle of us, and Joseph swung onto his knees, beseeching the Lord to remember the Patriarchs Noah and Lot; and, as in former times, spare the righteous, though he smote the ungodly.
I felt some sentiment that it must be a judgment on us also.
The Jonah, in my mind, was Mr Earnshaw, and I shook the handle of his den that I might ascertain if he were yet living.
He replied audibly enough, in a fashion which made my companion vociferate more clamorously than before that a wide distinction might be drawn between saints like himself and sinners like his master.
But, the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all unharmed, excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched for her obstinacy in refusing to take shelter, and standing bonnetless and shawlless to catch as much water as she could with her hair and clothes.
She came in and lay down on the settle, all soaked as she was, turning her face to the back, and putting her hands before it.
‘Well, Miss!’ I exclaimed, touching her shoulder.
‘You are not bent on getting your death, are you? Do you know what o’clock it is?
Half-past twelve. Come! come to bed; there’s no use waiting longer on that foolish boy—he’ll be gone to Gimmerton, and he’ll stay there now.
He guesses we shouldn’t wake for him till this late hour; at least, he guesses that only Mr Hindley would be up; and he’d rather avoid having the door opened by the master. ’
‘Nay, nay, he’s noan at Gimmerton!’ said Joseph.
‘Aw’s niver wonder, bud he’s at t’ bothom uf a bog-hoile.
This visitation worn’t for nowt, und Aw wod hev ye tuh look aht, Miss,—yah muh be t’ next.
Thank Hivin for all! All warks togither for gooid tuh them as is chozzen, and piked aht froo’ th’ rubbidge! Yah knaw whet t’ Scripture ses–’
And he began quoting several texts; referring us to the chapters and verses, where we might find them.
I, having vainly begged the wilful girl to rise and remove her wet things, left him preaching, and her shivering, and betook myself to bed with little Hareton, who slept as fast as if every one had been sleeping round him.
I heard Joseph read on a while afterwards; then, I distinguished his slow step on the ladder, and then I dropt asleep.
Coming down somewhat later than usual, I saw, by the sunbeams piercing the chinks of the shutters, Miss Catherine still seated near the fire-place. The house door was ajar, too; light entered from its unclosed windows; Hindley had come out, and stood on the kitchen hearth, haggard and drowsy.
‘What ails you, Cathy?’ he was saying when I entered. ‘You look as dismal as a drowned whelp—Why are you so damp and pale, child?’
‘I’ve been wet,’ she answered reluctantly, ‘and I’m cold, that’s all.’
‘Oh, she is naughty!’ I cried, perceiving the master to be tolerably sober; ‘She got steeped in the shower of yesterday evening, and there she has sat, the night through, and I couldn’t prevail on her to stir.’
Mr Earnshaw stared at us in surprise. ‘The night through,’ he repeated. ‘What kept her up, not fear of the thunder, surely? That was over, hours since.’
Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff’s absence, as long as we could conceal it; so, I replied, I didn’t know how she took it into her head to sit up; and she said nothing.
The morning was fresh and cool; I threw back the lattice, and presently the room filled with sweet scents from the garden: but Catherine called peevishly to me.
‘Ellen, shut the window. I’m starving!’ And her teeth chattered as she shrunk closer to the almost extinguished embers.
‘She’s ill–’ said Hindley, taking her wrist, ‘I suppose that’s the reason she would not go to bed—Damn it! I don’t want to be troubled with more sickness here—What took you into the rain?’
‘Running after t’lads, as usuald!’ croaked Joseph, catching an opportunity, from our hesitation, to thrust in his evil tongue.
‘If Aw wur yah, maister, Aw’d just slam t’boards i’ their faces all on ‘em, gentle and simple! Never a day ut yah’re off, but yon cat uh Linton comes sneaking hither—and Miss Nelly, shoo’s a fine lass!
shoo sits watching for ye i’ t’kitchen; and as yah’re in at one door, he’s aht at t’other—Und, then, wer grand lady goes a coorting uf hor side!
It’s bonny behaviour, lurking amang t’fields, after twelve ut’ night, wi’ that fahl, flaysome divil uf a gipsy, Heathcliff!
They think Aw’m blind; but Aw’m noan, nowt ut t’ soart!
Aw seed young Linton, boath coming and going, and Aw seed yah’ (directing his discourse to me), ‘yah gooid fur nowt, slattenly witch! nip up und bolt intuh th’ hahs, t’ minute yah heard t’ maister’s horse fit clatter up t’ road. ’
‘Silence, eavesdropper!’ cried Catherine, ‘None of your insolence, before me! Edgar Linton came yesterday, by chance, Hindley: and it was I who told him to be off: because I knew you would not like to have met him as you were.’
‘You lie, Cathy, no doubt,’ answered her brother, ‘and you are a confounded simpleton! But, never mind Linton, at present—Tell me, were you not with Heathcliff last night? Speak the truth, now. You need not be afraid of harming him—Though I hate him as much as ever, he did me a good turn, a short time since, that will make my conscience tender of breaking his neck. To prevent it, I shall send him about his business, this very morning; and after he’s gone, I’d advise you all to look sharp, I shall only have the more humour for you! ’
‘I never saw Heathcliff last night,’ answered Catherine, beginning to sob bitterly: ‘and if you do turn him out of doors, I’ll go with him. But, perhaps, you’ll never have an opportunity—perhaps, he’s gone.’ Here she burst into uncontrollable grief, and the remainder of her words were inarticulate.
Hindley lavished on her a torrent of scornful abuse, and bid her get to her room immediately, or she shouldn’t cry for nothing!
I obliged her to obey; and I shall never forget what a scene she acted, when we reached her chamber.
It terrified me—I thought she was going mad, and I begged Joseph to run for the doctor.
It proved the commencement of delirium; Mr Kenneth, as soon as he saw her, pronounced her dangerously ill; she had a fever.
He bled her, and he told me to let her live on whey, and water gruel; and take care she did not throw herself down stairs, or out of the window; and then he left; for he had enough to do in the parish where two or three miles was the ordinary distance between cottage and cottage.
Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master were no better; and, though our patient was as wearisome and headstrong as a patient could be, she weathered it through.
Old Mrs Linton paid us several visits, to be sure; and set things to rights, and scolded and ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent, she insisted on conveying her to Thrushcross Grange; for which deliverance we were very grateful.
But, the poor dame had reason to repent of her kindness; she and her husband both took the fever, and died within a few days of each other.
Our young lady returned to us, saucier, and more passionate, and haughtier than ever.
Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of the thunder-storm, and, one day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her (where indeed it belonged, as she well knew.) From that period, for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me, save in the relation of a mere servant.
Joseph fell under a ban also; he would speak his mind, and lecture her all the same as if she were a little girl; and she esteemed herself a woman, and our mistress; and thought that her recent illness gave her a claim to be treated with consideration.
Then the doctor had said that she would not bear crossing much, she ought to have her own way; and it was nothing less than murder, in her eyes, for any one to presume to stand up and contradict her.
From Mr Earnshaw, and his companions, she kept aloof, and tutored by Kenneth, and serious threats of a fit that often attended her rages, her brother allowed her whatever she pleased to demand, and generally avoided aggravating her fiery temper.
He was rather too indulgent in humoring her caprices; not from affection, but from pride; he wished earnestly to see her bring honour to the family by an alliance with the Lintons, and, as long as she let him alone, she might trample us like slaves for ought he cared!
Edgar Linton, as multitudes have been before, and will be after him, 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—When I refused to go, and when she found her entreaties did not move me, she went lamenting to her husband and brother.
The former offered me munificent wages; the latter ordered me to pack up—he wanted no women in the house, he said, now that there was no mistress; and as to Hareton, the curate should take him in hand, by and bye.
And so, I had but one choice left, to do as I was ordered—I told the master he got rid of all decent people only to run to ruin a little faster; I kissed Hareton good bye; and, since then, he has been a stranger, and it’s very queer to think it, but I’ve no doubt, he has completely forgotten all about Ellen Dean and that he was ever more than all the world to her, and she to him!
· · ·
At this point of the housekeeper’s story she chanced to glance towards the time-piece over the chimney; and was in amazement, on seeing the minute-hand measure half past one.
She would not hear of staying a second longer—In truth, I felt rather disposed to defer the sequel of her narrative myself: and now that she is vanished to her rest, and I have meditated for another hour or two, I shall summon courage to go, also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.