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