| Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent
to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join
her cousin. It was a close, sultry day: devoid of sunshine, but with a
sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain; and our place of meeting had
been fixed at the guide-stone, by the crossroads. On arriving there, however,
a little herd-boy, dispatched as a messenger, told us that:
`Maister Linton wer just ut this side th' Heights: and he'd be
mitch obleeged to us to gang on a bit farther.'
`Then Master Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle,'
I observed: `he bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are off at
once.'
`Well, we'll turn our horses' heads round, when we reach him,'
answered my companion, `our excursion shall lie towards home.'
But when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a
mile from his own door, we found he had no horse; and we were forced to
dismount, and leave ours to graze. He lay on the heath, awaiting our approach,
and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then he walked so feebly,
and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed:
`Why, Master Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble,
this morning. How ill you do look!'
Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment; and changed
the ejaculation of joy on her lips, to one of alarm; and the congratulation
on their long-postponed meeting, to an anxious inquiry, whether he were
worse than usual?
`No--better--better!' he panted, trembling, and retaining her
hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered timidly
over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard wildness the
languid expression they once possessed.
`But you have been worse,' persisted his cousin; `worse than when
I saw you last; you are thinner, and--
`I'm tired,' he interrupted hurriedly. `It is too hot for walking,
let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick--papa says I grow
so fast.'
Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her.
`This is something like your paradise,' said she, making an effort
at cheerfulness. `You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the
place and way each thought pleasantest? This is surely yours, only there
are clouds: but then they are so soft and mellow: it is nicer than sunshine.
Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the Grange Park, and try mine.'
Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of; and he had
evidently great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His
lack of interest in the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity
to contribute to her entertainment, were so obvious that she could not
conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come over his
whole person and manner. The pettishness that might be caressed into fondness,
had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of the peevish temper
of a child which frets and teases on purpose to be soothed, and more of
the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation,
and ready to regard the good-humoured mirth of others as an insult. Catherine
perceived, as well as I did, that he held it rather a punishment, than
a gratification, to endure our company; and she made no scruple of proposing,
presently, to depart. That proposal, unexpectedly, roused Linton from his
lethargy, and threw him into a strange state of agitation. He glanced fearfully
towards the Heights, begging she would remain another half-hour at least.
`But I think', said Cathy, `you'd be more comfortable at home
than sitting here; and I cannot amuse you today, I see, by my tales, and
songs, and chatter: you have grown wiser than I, in these six months; you
have little taste for my diversions now: or else, if I could amuse you,
I'd willingly stay.'
`Stay to rest yourself,' he replied. `And Catherine, don't think,
or say that I'm very unwell: it is the heavy weather and heat that
make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, a great deal for me.
Tell uncle I'm in tolerable health, will you?'
`I'll tell him that you say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm
that you are,' observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious assertion
of what was evidently an untruth.
`And be here again next Thursday,' continued he, shunning her
puzzled gaze. `And give him my thanks for permitting you to come--my best
thanks, Catherine. And-and, if you did meet my father, and he asked
you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been extremely silent
and stupid: don't look sad and downcast, as you are doing--he'll
be angry.'
`I care nothing for his anger,' exclaimed Cathy, imagining she
would be its object.
`But I do,' said her cousin, shuddering. `Don't provoke
him against me, Catherine, for he is very hard.'
`Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff?' I inquired. `Has he
grown weary of indulgence, and passed from passive to active hatred?'
Linton looked at me, but did not answer; and, after keeping her
seat by his side another ten minutes, during which his head fell drowsily
on his breast, and he uttered nothing except suppressed moans of exhaustion
or pain, Cathy began to seek solace in looking for bilberries, and sharing
the produce of her researches with me: she did not offer them to him, for
she saw further notice would only weary and annoy.
`Is it half an hour now, Ellen?' she whispered in my ear, at last.
`I can't tell why we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be wanting
us back.'
`Well, we must not leave him asleep,' I answered; `wait till he
wakes, and be patient. You were mighty eager to set off, but your longing
to see poor Linton has soon evaporated!'
`Why did he wish to see me?' returned Catherine. `In his
crossest humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his present
curious mood. It's just as if it were a task he was compelled to perform--this
interview--for fear his father should scold him. But I'm hardly going to
come to give Mr Heathcliff pleasure; whatever reason he may have for ordering
Linton to undergo this penance. And, though I'm glad he's better in health,
I'm sorry he's so much less pleasant, and so much less affectionate to
me.'
`You think he is better in health then?' I said.
`Yes,' she answered; `because he always made such a great deal
of his sufferings, you know. He is not tolerably well, as he told me to
tell papa; but he's better, very likely.'
`There you differ with me, Miss Cathy,' I remarked; `I should
conjecture him to be far worse.'
Linton here started from his slumber in bewildered terror, and
asked if anyone had called his name.
`No,' said Catherine; `unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how
you manage to doze out of doors, in the morning.'
`I thought I heard my father,' he gasped, glancing up to the frowning
nab above us. `You are sure nobody spoke?'
`Quite sure,' replied his cousin. `Only Ellen and I were disputing
concerning your health. Are you truly stronger, Linton, than when we separated
in winter? If you be I'm certain one thing is not stronger--your regard
for me: speak,--are you?'
The tears gushed from Linton's eyes as he answered, `Yes, yes,
I am!' And, still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze wandered
up and down to detect its owner. Cathy rose. `For today we must part,'
she said. `And I won't conceal that I have been sadly disappointed with
our meeting; though I'll mention it to nobody but you: not that I stand
in awe of Mr Heathcliff.'
`Hush,' murmured Linton: `for God's sake, hush! He's coming.'
And he clung to Catherine's arm, striving to detain her; but at that announcement
she hastily disengaged herself, and whistled to Minny, who obeyed her like
a dog.
`I'll be here next Thursday,' she cried, springing to the saddle.
`Goodbye. Quick, Ellen!'
And so we left him, scarcely conscious of our departure, so absorbed
was he in anticipating his father's approach.
Before we reached home, Catherine's displeasure softened into
a perplexed sensation of pity and regret, largely blended with vague, uneasy
doubts about Linton's actual circumstances, physical and social; in which
I partook, though I counselled her not to say much; for a second journey
would make us better judges. My master requested an account of our ongoings.
His nephew's offering of thanks was duly delivered, Miss Cathy gently touching
on the rest: I also threw little light on his inquiries, for I hardly knew
what to hide, and what to reveal.
|
