Chapter Chapter 7 · 第7章

Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange five weeks: till Christmas. By that

time her ankle was thoroughly cured, and her manners much improved. The

mistress visited her often in the interval, and commenced her plan of

reform by trying to raise her self-respect with fine clothes and

flattery, which she took readily; so that, instead of a wild, hatless

little savage jumping into the house, and rushing to squeeze us all

breathless, there lighted from a handsome black pony a very dignified

person, with brown ringlets falling from the cover of a feathered

beaver, and a long cloth habit, which she was obliged to hold up with

both hands that she might sail in. Hindley lifted her from her horse,

exclaiming delightedly, “Why, Cathy, you are quite a beauty! I should

scarcely have known you: you look like a lady now. Isabella Linton is

not to be compared with her, is she, Frances?” “Isabella has not her

natural advantages,” replied his wife: “but she must mind and not grow

wild again here. Ellen, help Miss Catherine off with her things—Stay,

dear, you will disarrange your curls—let me untie your hat.”

I removed the habit, and there shone forth beneath a grand plaid silk

frock, white trousers, and burnished shoes; and, while her eyes

sparkled joyfully when the dogs came bounding up to welcome her, she

dared hardly touch them lest they should fawn upon her splendid

garments. She kissed me gently: I was all flour making the Christmas

cake, and it would not have done to give me a hug; and then she looked

round for Heathcliff. Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw watched anxiously their

meeting; thinking it would enable them to judge, in some measure, what

grounds they had for hoping to succeed in separating the two friends.

Heathcliff was hard to discover, at first. If he were careless, and

uncared for, before Catherine’s absence, he had been ten times more so

since. Nobody but I even did him the kindness to call him a dirty boy,

and bid him wash himself, once a week; and children of his age seldom

have a natural pleasure in soap and water. Therefore, not to mention

his clothes, which had seen three months’ service in mire and dust, and

his thick uncombed hair, the surface of his face and hands was dismally

beclouded. He might well skulk behind the settle, on beholding such a

bright, graceful damsel enter the house, instead of a rough-headed

counterpart of himself, as he expected. “Is Heathcliff not here?” she

demanded, pulling off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully

whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors.

“Heathcliff, you may come forward,” cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his

discomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard

he would be compelled to present himself. “You may come and wish Miss

Catherine welcome, like the other servants.”

Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to

embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the

second, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh,

exclaiming, “Why, how very 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?”

She had some reason to put the question, for shame and pride threw

double gloom over his countenance, and kept him immovable.

“Shake hands, Heathcliff,” said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; “once in

a way, that is permitted.”

“I shall not,” replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; “I shall

not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it!”

And he would have broken from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him

again.

“I did not mean to laugh at you,” she said; “I could not hinder myself:

Heathcliff, shake hands at least! What are you sulky for? 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!”

She gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers she held in her own, and

also at her dress; which she feared had gained no embellishment from

its contact with his.

“You needn’t have touched me!” he answered, following her eye and

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 dashed headforemost out of the room, amid the merriment of

the master and mistress, and to the serious disturbance of Catherine;

who could not comprehend how her remarks should have produced such an

exhibition of bad temper.

After playing lady’s-maid to the new-comer, and putting my cakes in the

oven, and making the house and kitchen cheerful with great fires,

befitting Christmas-eve, I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by

singing carols, all alone; regardless of Joseph’s affirmations that he

considered the merry tunes I chose as next door to songs. He had

retired to private prayer in his chamber, and Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw

were engaging Missy’s attention by sundry gay trifles bought for her to

present to the little Lintons, as an acknowledgment of their kindness.

They had invited them to spend the morrow at Wuthering Heights, and the

invitation had been accepted, on one condition: Mrs. Linton begged that

her darlings might be kept carefully apart from that “naughty swearing

boy.”

Under these circumstances I remained solitary. I smelt the rich scent

of the heating spices; and admired the shining kitchen utensils, the

polished clock, decked in holly, the silver mugs ranged on a tray ready

to be filled with mulled ale for supper; and above all, the speckless

purity of my particular care—the scoured and well-swept floor. I gave

due inward applause to every object, and then I remembered how old

Earnshaw used to come in when all was tidied, and call me a cant lass,

and slip a shilling into my hand as a Christmas-box; and from that I

went on to think of his fondness for Heathcliff, and his dread lest he

should suffer neglect after death had removed him: and that naturally

led me to consider the poor lad’s situation now, and from singing I

changed my mind to crying. It struck me soon, however, there would be

more sense in endeavouring to repair some of his wrongs than shedding

tears over them: I got up and walked into the court to seek him. He was

not far; I found him smoothing the glossy coat of the new pony in the

stable, and feeding the other beasts, according to custom.

“Make haste, Heathcliff!” I said, “the kitchen is so comfortable; and

Joseph is upstairs: make haste, and let me dress you smart before Miss

Cathy comes out, and then you can sit together, with the whole hearth

to yourselves, and have a long chatter till bedtime.”

He proceeded with his task, and never turned his head towards me.

“Come—are you coming?” I continued. “There’s a little cake for each of

you, nearly enough; and you’ll need half-an-hour’s donning.”

I waited five minutes, but getting no answer left him. Catherine supped

with her brother and sister-in-law: Joseph and I joined at an

unsociable meal, seasoned with reproofs on one side and sauciness on

the other. His cake and cheese remained on the table all night for the

fairies. He managed to continue work till nine o’clock, and then

marched dumb and dour to his chamber. Cathy sat up late, having a world

of things to order for the reception of her new friends: she came into

the kitchen once to speak to her old one; but he was gone, and she only

stayed to ask what was the matter with him, and then went back. In the

morning he rose early; and, as it was a holiday, carried his ill-humour

on to the moors; not re-appearing till the family were departed for

church. Fasting and reflection seemed to have brought him to a better

spirit. He hung about me for a while, and having screwed up his

courage, exclaimed abruptly—“Nelly, make me decent, I’m going to be

good.”

“High time, Heathcliff,” I said; “you _have_ grieved Catherine: she’s

sorry she ever came home, I daresay! It looks as if you envied her,

because she is more thought of than you.”

The notion of _envying_ Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the

notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough.

“Did she say she was grieved?” he inquired, looking very serious.

“She cried when I told her you were off again this morning.”

“Well, _I_ cried last night,” he returned, “and I had more reason to

cry than she.”

“Yes: you had the reason of going to bed with a proud heart and an

empty stomach,” said I. “Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

But, if you be ashamed of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind,

when she comes in. You must go up and offer to kiss her, and say—you

know best what to say; only do it heartily, and not as if you thought

her converted into a stranger by her grand dress. And now, though I

have dinner to get ready, I’ll steal time to arrange you so that Edgar

Linton shall look quite a doll beside you: and that he does. You are

younger, and yet, I’ll be bound, you are taller and twice as broad

across the shoulders; you could knock him down in a twinkling; don’t

you feel that you could?”

Heathcliff’s face brightened a moment; then it was overcast afresh, and

he sighed.

“But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn’t make him

less handsome or me more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin,

and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich

as he will be!”

“And cried for mamma at every turn,” I added, “and trembled if a

country lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a

shower of rain. Oh, Heathcliff, you are showing a poor spirit! Come to

the glass, and I’ll let you see what you should wish. Do you mark those

two lines between your eyes; and those thick brows, that, instead of

rising arched, sink in the middle; and that couple of black fiends, so

deeply buried, who never open their windows boldly, but lurk glinting

under them, like devil’s spies? Wish and learn to smooth away the surly

wrinkles, to raise your lids frankly, and change the fiends to

confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always

seeing friends where they are not sure of foes. Don’t get the

expression of a vicious cur that appears to know the kicks it gets are

its desert, and yet hates all the world, as well as the kicker, for

what it suffers.”

“In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton’s great blue eyes and

even forehead,” he replied. “I do—and that won’t help me to them.”

“A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,” I continued, “if

you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into

something worse than ugly. And now that we’ve done washing, and

combing, and sulking—tell me whether you don’t think yourself rather

handsome? I’ll tell you, I do. You’re fit for a prince in disguise. Who

knows but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian

queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week’s income, Wuthering

Heights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were kidnapped by

wicked sailors and brought to England. Were I in your place, I would

frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should

give me courage and dignity to support the oppressions of a little

farmer!”

So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his frown and began to

look quite pleasant, when all at once our conversation was interrupted

by a rumbling sound moving up the road and entering the court. He ran

to the window and I to the door, just in time to behold the two Lintons

descend from the family carriage, smothered in cloaks and furs, and the

Earnshaws dismount from their horses: they often rode to church in

winter. Catherine took a hand of each of the children, and brought them

into the house and set them before the fire, which quickly put colour

into their white faces.

I urged my companion to hasten now and show his amiable humour, and he

willingly obeyed; but ill luck would have it that, as he opened the

door leading from the kitchen on one side, Hindley opened it on the

other. They met, and the master, irritated at seeing him clean and

cheerful, or, perhaps, eager to keep his promise to Mrs. Linton, shoved

him back with a sudden thrust, and angrily bade Joseph “keep the fellow

out of the room—send him into the garret till dinner is over. He’ll be

cramming his fingers in the tarts and stealing the fruit, if left alone

with them a minute.”

“Nay, sir,” I could not avoid answering, “he’ll touch nothing, not he:

and I suppose he must have his share of the dainties as well as we.”

“He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs till

dark,” cried Hindley. “Begone, you vagabond! What! you are attempting

the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks—see

if I won’t pull them a bit longer!”

“They are long enough already,” observed Master Linton, peeping from

the doorway; “I wonder they don’t make his head ache. It’s like a

colt’s mane over his eyes!”

He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but

Heathcliff’s violent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance

of impertinence from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival.

He seized a tureen of hot apple sauce, the first thing that came under

his gripe, and dashed it full against the speaker’s face and neck; who

instantly commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine

hurrying to the place. Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly

and conveyed him to his chamber; where, doubtless, he administered a

rough remedy to cool the fit of passion, for he appeared red and

breathless. I got the dish-cloth, and rather spitefully scrubbed

Edgar’s nose and mouth, affirming it served him right for meddling. His

sister began weeping to go home, and Cathy stood by confounded,

blushing for all.

“You should not have spoken to him!” she expostulated with Master

Linton. “He was in a bad temper, and now you’ve spoilt your visit; and

he’ll be flogged: I hate him to be flogged! I can’t eat my dinner. Why

did you speak to him, Edgar?”

“I didn’t,” sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing the

remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief. “I

promised mamma that I wouldn’t say one word to him, and I didn’t.”

“Well, don’t cry,” replied Catherine, contemptuously; “you’re not

killed. Don’t make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet! Hush,

Isabella! Has anybody hurt _you?_”

“There, there, children—to your seats!” cried Hindley, bustling in.

“That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master Edgar,

take the law into your own fists—it will give you an appetite!”

The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant

feast. They were hungry after their ride, and easily consoled, since no

real harm had befallen them. Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls,

and the mistress made them merry with lively talk. I waited behind her

chair, and was pained to behold Catherine, with dry eyes and an

indifferent air, commence cutting up the wing of a goose before her.

“An unfeeling child,” I thought to myself; “how lightly she dismisses

her old playmate’s troubles. I could not have imagined her to be so

selfish.” She lifted a mouthful to her lips: then she set it down

again: her cheeks flushed, and the tears gushed over them. She slipped

her fork to the floor, and hastily dived under the cloth to conceal her

emotion. I did not call her unfeeling long; for I perceived she was in

purgatory throughout the day, and wearying to find an opportunity of

getting by herself, or paying a visit to Heathcliff, who had been

locked up by the master: as I discovered, on endeavouring to introduce

to him a private mess of victuals.

In the evening we had a dance. Cathy begged that he might be liberated

then, as Isabella Linton had no partner: her entreaties were vain, and

I was appointed to supply the deficiency. We got rid of all gloom in

the excitement of the exercise, and our pleasure was increased by the

arrival of the Gimmerton band, mustering fifteen strong: a trumpet, a

trombone, clarionets, bassoons, French horns, and a bass viol, besides

singers. They go the rounds of all the respectable houses, and receive

contributions every Christmas, and we esteemed it a first-rate treat to

hear them. After the usual carols had been sung, we set them to songs

and glees. Mrs. Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave us plenty.

Catherine loved it too: but she said it sounded sweetest at the top of

the steps, and she went up in the dark: I followed. They shut the house

door below, never noting our absence, it was so full of people. She

made no stay at the stairs’-head, but mounted farther, to the garret

where Heathcliff was confined, and called him. He stubbornly declined

answering for a while: she persevered, and finally persuaded him to

hold communion with her through the boards. I let the poor things

converse unmolested, till I supposed the songs were going to cease, and

the singers to get some refreshment: then I clambered up the ladder to

warn her. Instead of finding her outside, 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, and it was with the utmost difficulty I

could coax her out again. When she did come, Heathcliff came with her,

and she insisted that I should take him into the kitchen, as my

fellow-servant had gone to a neighbour’s, to be removed from the sound

of our “devil’s psalmody,” as it pleased him to call it. I told them I

intended by no means to encourage their tricks: but as the prisoner had

never broken his fast since yesterday’s dinner, I would wink at his

cheating Mr. Hindley that once. 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!”

“For shame, Heathcliff!” said I. “It is for God to punish wicked

people; we should learn to forgive.”

“No, God won’t have the satisfaction that I shall,” he returned. “I

only wish I knew the best way! Let me alone, and I’ll plan it out:

while I’m thinking of that I don’t feel pain.”

But, Mr. Lockwood, I forget these tales cannot divert you. I’m annoyed

how I should dream of chattering on at such a rate; and your gruel

cold, and you nodding for bed! I could have told Heathcliff’s history,

all that you need hear, in half a dozen words.

* * * * *

Thus interrupting herself, the housekeeper rose, and proceeded to lay

aside her sewing; but I felt incapable of moving from the hearth, and I

was very far from nodding. “Sit still, Mrs. Dean,” I cried; “do sit

still another half-hour. You’ve done just right to tell the story

leisurely. That is the method I like; and you must finish it in the

same style. I am interested in every character you have mentioned, more

or less.”

“The clock is on the stroke of eleven, sir.”

“No matter—I’m not accustomed to go to bed in the long hours. One or

two is early enough for a person who lies till ten.”

“You shouldn’t lie till ten. There’s the very prime of the morning gone

long before that time. A person who has not done one-half his day’s

work by ten o’clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.”

“Nevertheless, Mrs. Dean, resume your chair; because to-morrow I intend

lengthening the night till afternoon. I prognosticate for myself an

obstinate cold, at least.”

“I hope not, sir. Well, you must allow me to leap over some three

years; during that space Mrs. Earnshaw—”

“No, no, I’ll allow nothing of the sort! Are you acquainted with the

mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking

its kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so

intently that puss’s neglect of one ear would put you seriously out of

temper?”

“A terribly lazy mood, I should say.”

“On the contrary, a tiresomely active one. It is mine, at present; and,

therefore, continue minutely. I perceive that people in these regions

acquire over people in towns the value that a spider in a dungeon does

over a spider in a cottage, to their various occupants; and yet the

deepened attraction is not entirely owing to the situation of the

looker-on. They _do_ live more in earnest, more in themselves, and less

in surface, change, and frivolous external things. I could fancy a love

for life here almost possible; and I was a fixed unbeliever in any love

of a year’s standing. One state resembles setting a hungry man down to

a single dish, on which he may concentrate his entire appetite and do

it justice; the other, introducing him to a table laid out by French

cooks: he can perhaps extract as much enjoyment from the whole; but

each part is a mere atom in his regard and remembrance.”

“Oh! here we are the same as anywhere else, when you get to know us,”

observed Mrs. Dean, somewhat puzzled at my speech.

“Excuse me,” I responded; “you, my good friend, are a striking evidence

against that assertion. Excepting a few provincialisms of slight

consequence, you have no marks of the manners which I am habituated to

consider as peculiar to your class. I am sure you have thought a great

deal more than the generality of servants think. You have been

compelled to cultivate your reflective faculties for want of occasions

for frittering your life away in silly trifles.”

Mrs. Dean laughed.

“I certainly esteem myself a steady, reasonable kind of body,” she

said; “not exactly from living among the hills and seeing one set of

faces, and one series of actions, from year’s end to year’s end; but I

have undergone sharp discipline, which has taught me wisdom; and then,

I have read more than you would fancy, Mr. Lockwood. You could not open

a book in this library that I have not looked into, and got something

out of also: unless it be that range of Greek and Latin, and that of

French; and those I know one from another: it is as much as you can

expect of a poor man’s daughter. However, if I am to follow my story in

true gossip’s fashion, I had better go on; and instead of leaping three

years, I will be content to pass to the next summer—the summer of 1778,

that is nearly twenty-three years ago.”