Bab Bab 27 · 第27章

Seven days glided away, every one marking its course by the henceforth

rapid alteration of Edgar Linton’s state. The havoc that months had

previously wrought was now emulated by the inroads of hours. Catherine

we would fain have deluded yet; but her own quick spirit refused to

delude her: it divined in secret, and brooded on the dreadful

probability, gradually ripening into certainty. She had not the heart

to mention her ride, when Thursday came round; I mentioned it for her,

and obtained permission to order her out of doors: for the library,

where her father stopped a short time daily—the brief period he could

bear to sit up—and his chamber, had become her whole world. She grudged

each moment that did not find her bending over his pillow, or seated by

his side. Her countenance grew wan with watching and sorrow, and my

master gladly dismissed her to what he flattered himself would be a

happy change of scene and society; drawing comfort from the hope that

she would not now be left entirely alone after his death.

He had a fixed idea, I guessed by several observations he let fall,

that, as his nephew resembled him in person, he would resemble him in

mind; for Linton’s letters bore few or no indications of his defective

character. And I, through pardonable weakness, refrained from

correcting the error; asking myself what good there would be in

disturbing his last moments with information that he had neither power

nor opportunity to turn to account.

We deferred our excursion till the afternoon; a golden afternoon of

August: every breath from the hills so full of life, that it seemed

whoever respired it, though dying, might revive. Catherine’s face was

just like the landscape—shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid

succession; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more

transient; and her poor little heart reproached itself for even that

passing forgetfulness of its cares.

We discerned Linton watching at the same spot he had selected before.

My young mistress alighted, and told me that, as she was resolved to

stay a very little while, I had better hold the pony and remain on

horseback; but I dissented: I wouldn’t risk losing sight of the charge

committed to me a minute; so we climbed the slope of heath together.

Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation on this occasion:

not the animation of high spirits though, nor yet of joy; it looked

more like fear.

“It is late!” he said, speaking short and with difficulty. “Is not your

father very ill? I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“_Why_ won’t you be candid?” cried Catherine, swallowing her greeting.

“Why cannot you say at once you don’t want me? It is strange, Linton,

that for the second time you have brought me here on purpose,

apparently to distress us both, and for no reason besides!”

Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half supplicating, half ashamed;

but his cousin’s patience was not sufficient to endure this enigmatical

behaviour.

“My father _is_ very ill,” she said; “and why am I called from his

bedside? Why didn’t you send to absolve me from my promise, when you

wished I wouldn’t keep it? Come! I desire an explanation: playing and

trifling are completely banished out of my mind; and I can’t dance

attendance on your affectations now!”

“My affectations!” he murmured; “what are they? For heaven’s sake,

Catherine, don’t look so angry! Despise me as much as you please; I am

a worthless, cowardly wretch: I can’t be scorned enough; but I’m too

mean for your anger. Hate my father, and spare me for contempt.”

“Nonsense!” cried Catherine in a passion. “Foolish, silly boy! And

there! he trembles, as if I were really going to touch him! You needn’t

bespeak contempt, Linton: anybody will have it spontaneously at your

service. Get off! I shall return home: it is folly dragging you from

the hearth-stone, and pretending—what do we pretend? Let go my frock!

If I pitied you for crying and looking so very frightened, you should

spurn such pity. Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct is. Rise,

and don’t degrade yourself into an abject reptile—_don’t_!”

With streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown his

nerveless frame along the ground: he seemed convulsed with exquisite

terror.

“Oh!” he sobbed, “I cannot bear it! Catherine, Catherine, I’m a

traitor, too, and I dare not tell you! But leave me, and I shall be

killed! _Dear_ Catherine, my life is in your hands: and you have said

you loved me, and if you did, it wouldn’t harm you. You’ll not go,

then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you _will_ consent—and

he’ll let me die with you!”

My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him.

The old feeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she

grew thoroughly moved and alarmed.

“Consent to what?” she asked. “To stay! tell me the meaning of this

strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words, and distract

me! Be calm and frank, and confess at once all that weighs on your

heart. You wouldn’t injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn’t let any

enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I’ll believe you are a coward,

for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend.”

“But my father threatened me,” gasped the boy, clasping his attenuated

fingers, “and I dread him—I dread him! I _dare_ not tell!”

“Oh, well!” said Catherine, with scornful compassion, “keep your

secret: _I’m_ no coward. Save yourself: I’m not afraid!”

Her magnanimity provoked his tears: he wept wildly, kissing her

supporting hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out. I was

cogitating what the mystery might be, and determined Catherine should

never suffer to benefit him or any one else, by my good will; when,

hearing a rustle among the ling, I looked up and saw Mr. Heathcliff

almost close upon us, descending the Heights. He didn’t cast a glance

towards my companions, though they were sufficiently near for Linton’s

sobs to be audible; but hailing me in the almost hearty tone he assumed

to none besides, and the sincerity of which I couldn’t avoid doubting,

he said—

“It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly. How are you at

the Grange? Let us hear. The rumour goes,” he added, in a lower tone,

“that Edgar Linton is on his death-bed: perhaps they exaggerate his

illness?”

“No; my master is dying,” I replied: “it is true enough. A sad thing it

will be for us all, but a blessing for him!”

“How long will he last, do you think?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Because,” he continued, looking at the two young people, who were

fixed under his eye—Linton appeared as if he could not venture to stir

or raise his head, and Catherine could not move, on his

account—“because that lad yonder seems determined to beat me; and I’d

thank his uncle to be quick, and go before him! Hallo! has the whelp

been playing that game long? I _did_ give him some lessons about

snivelling. Is he pretty lively with Miss Linton generally?”

“Lively? no—he has shown the greatest distress,” I answered. “To see

him, I should say, that instead of rambling with his sweetheart on the

hills, he ought to be in bed, under the hands of a doctor.”

“He shall be, in a day or two,” muttered Heathcliff. “But first—get up,

Linton! Get up!” he shouted. “Don’t grovel on the ground there: up,

this moment!”

Linton had sunk prostrate again in another paroxysm of helpless fear,

caused by his father’s glance towards him, I suppose: there was nothing

else to produce such humiliation. He made several efforts to obey, but

his little strength was annihilated for the time, and he fell back

again with a moan. Mr. Heathcliff advanced, and lifted him to lean

against a ridge of turf.

“Now,” said he, with curbed ferocity, “I’m getting angry—and if you

don’t command that paltry spirit of yours—_damn_ you! get up directly!”

“I will, father,” he panted. “Only, let me alone, or I shall faint.

I’ve done as you wished, I’m sure. Catherine will tell you that I—that

I—have been cheerful. Ah! keep by me, Catherine; give me your hand.”

“Take mine,” said his father; “stand on your feet. There now—she’ll

lend you her arm: that’s right, look at _her_. You would imagine I was

the devil himself, Miss Linton, to excite such horror. Be so kind as to

walk home with him, will you? He shudders if I touch him.”

“Linton dear!” whispered Catherine, “I can’t go to Wuthering Heights:

papa has forbidden me. He’ll not harm you: why are you so afraid?”

“I can never re-enter that house,” he answered. “I’m _not_ to re-enter

it without you!”

“Stop!” cried his father. “We’ll respect Catherine’s filial scruples.

Nelly, take him in, and I’ll follow your advice concerning the doctor,

without delay.”

“You’ll do well,” replied I. “But I must remain with my mistress: to

mind your son is not my business.”

“You are very stiff,” said Heathcliff, “I know that: but you’ll force

me to pinch the baby and make it scream before it moves your charity.

Come, then, my hero. Are you willing to return, escorted by me?”

He approached once more, and made as if he would seize the fragile

being; but, shrinking back, Linton clung to his cousin, and implored

her to accompany him, with a frantic importunity that admitted no

denial. However I disapproved, I couldn’t hinder her: indeed, how could

she have refused him herself? What was filling him with dread we had no

means of discerning; but there he was, powerless under its gripe, and

any addition seemed capable of shocking him into idiocy. We reached the

threshold; Catherine walked in, and I stood waiting till she had

conducted the invalid to a chair, expecting her out immediately; when

Mr. Heathcliff, pushing me forward, exclaimed—“My house is not stricken

with the plague, Nelly; and I have a mind to be hospitable to-day: sit

down, and allow me to shut the door.”

He shut and locked it also. I started.

“You shall have tea before you go home,” he added. “I am by myself.

Hareton is gone with some cattle to the Lees, and Zillah and Joseph are

off on a journey of pleasure; and, though I’m used to being alone, I’d

rather have some interesting company, if I can get it. Miss Linton,

take your seat by _him_. I give you what I have: the present is hardly

worth accepting; but I have nothing else to offer. It is Linton, I

mean. How she does stare! It’s odd what a savage feeling I have to

anything that seems afraid of me! Had I been born where laws are less

strict and tastes less dainty, I should treat myself to a slow

vivisection of those two, as an evening’s amusement.”

He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, “By

hell! I hate them.”

“I am not afraid of you!” exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear the

latter part of his speech. She stepped close up; her black eyes

flashing with passion and resolution. “Give me that key: I will have

it!” she said. “I wouldn’t eat or drink here, if I were starving.”

Heathcliff had the key in his hand that remained on the table. He

looked up, seized with a sort of surprise at her boldness; or,

possibly, reminded, by her voice and glance, of the person from whom

she inherited it. She snatched at the instrument, and half succeeded in

getting it out of his loosened fingers: but her action recalled him to

the present; he recovered it speedily.

“Now, Catherine Linton,” he said, “stand off, or I shall knock you

down; and that will make Mrs. Dean mad.”

Regardless of this warning, she captured his closed hand and its

contents again. “We _will_ go!” she repeated, exerting her utmost

efforts to cause the iron muscles to relax; and finding that her nails

made no impression, she applied her teeth pretty sharply. Heathcliff

glanced at me a glance that kept me from interfering a moment.

Catherine was too intent on his fingers to notice his face. He opened

them suddenly, and resigned the object of dispute; but, ere she had

well secured it, he seized her with the liberated hand, and, pulling

her on his knee, administered with the other a shower of terrific slaps

on both sides of the head, each sufficient to have fulfilled his

threat, had she been able to fall.

At this diabolical violence I rushed on him furiously. “You villain!” I

began to cry, “you villain!” A touch on the chest silenced me: I am

stout, and soon put out of breath; and, what with that and the rage, I

staggered dizzily back, and felt ready to suffocate, or to burst a

blood-vessel. The scene was over in two minutes; Catherine, released,

put her two hands to her temples, and looked just as if she were not

sure whether her ears were off or on. She trembled like a reed, poor

thing, and leant against the table perfectly bewildered.

“I know how to chastise children, you see,” said the scoundrel, grimly,

as he stooped to repossess himself of the key, which had dropped to the

floor. “Go to Linton now, as I told you; and cry at your ease! I shall

be your father, to-morrow—all the father you’ll have in a few days—and

you shall have plenty of that. You can bear plenty; you’re no weakling:

you shall have a daily taste, if I catch such a devil of a temper in

your eyes again!”

Cathy ran to me instead of Linton, and knelt down and put her burning

cheek on my lap, weeping aloud. Her cousin had shrunk into a corner of

the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I dare say,

that the correction had alighted on another than him. Mr. Heathcliff,

perceiving us all confounded, rose, and expeditiously made the tea

himself. The cups and saucers were laid ready. He poured it out, and

handed me a cup.

“Wash away your spleen,” he said. “And help your own naughty pet and

mine. It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I’m going out to seek

your horses.”

Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit somewhere. We

tried the kitchen door, but that was fastened outside: we looked at the

windows—they were too narrow for even Cathy’s little figure.

“Master Linton,” I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned, “you

know what your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us, or

I’ll box your ears, as he has done your cousin’s.”

“Yes, Linton, you must tell,” said Catherine. “It was for your sake I

came; and it will be wickedly ungrateful if you refuse.”

“Give me some tea, I’m thirsty, and then I’ll tell you,” he answered.

“Mrs. Dean, go away. I don’t like you standing over me. Now, Catherine,

you are letting your tears fall into my cup. I won’t drink that. Give

me another.”

Catherine pushed another to him, and wiped her face. I felt disgusted

at the little wretch’s composure, since he was no longer in terror for

himself. The anguish he had exhibited on the moor subsided as soon as

ever he entered Wuthering Heights; so I guessed he had been menaced

with an awful visitation of wrath if he failed in decoying us there;

and, that accomplished, he had no further immediate fears.

“Papa wants us to be married,” he continued, after sipping some of the

liquid. “And he knows your papa wouldn’t let us marry now; and he’s

afraid of my dying if we wait; so we are to be married in the morning,

and you are to stay here all night; and, if you do as he wishes, you

shall return home next day, and take me with you.”

“Take you with her, pitiful changeling!” I exclaimed. “_You_ marry?

Why, the man is mad! or he thinks us fools, every one. And do you

imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy, hearty girl, will tie

herself to a little perishing monkey like you? Are you cherishing the

notion that _anybody_, let alone Miss Catherine Linton, would have you

for a husband? You want whipping for bringing us in here at all, with

your dastardly puling tricks: and—don’t look so silly, now! I’ve a very

good mind to shake you severely, for your contemptible treachery, and

your imbecile conceit.”

I did give him a slight shaking; but it brought on the cough, and he

took to his ordinary resource of moaning and weeping, and Catherine

rebuked me.

“Stay all night? No,” she said, looking slowly round. “Ellen, I’ll burn

that door down but I’ll get out.”

And she would have commenced the execution of her threat directly, but

Linton was up in alarm for his dear self again. He clasped her in his

two feeble arms sobbing:—“Won’t you have me, and save me? not let me

come to the Grange? Oh, darling Catherine! you mustn’t go and leave,

after all. You _must_ obey my father—you _must_!”

“I must obey my own,” she replied, “and relieve him from this cruel

suspense. The whole night! What would he think? He’ll be distressed

already. I’ll either break or burn a way out of the house. Be quiet!

You’re in no danger; but if you hinder me—Linton, I love papa better

than you!”

The mortal terror he felt of Mr. Heathcliff’s anger restored to the boy

his coward’s eloquence. Catherine was near distraught: still, she

persisted that she must go home, and tried entreaty in her turn,

persuading him to subdue his selfish agony. While they were thus

occupied, our jailor re-entered.

“Your beasts have trotted off,” he said, “and—now Linton! snivelling

again? What has she been doing to you? Come, come—have done, and get to

bed. In a month or two, my lad, you’ll be able to pay her back her

present tyrannies with a vigorous hand. You’re pining for pure love,

are you not? nothing else in the world: and she shall have you! There,

to bed! Zillah won’t be here to-night; you must undress yourself. Hush!

hold your noise! Once in your own room, I’ll not come near you: you

needn’t fear. By chance, you’ve managed tolerably. I’ll look to the

rest.”

He spoke these words, holding the door open for his son to pass, and

the latter achieved his exit exactly as a spaniel might which suspected

the person who attended on it of designing a spiteful squeeze. The lock

was re-secured. Heathcliff approached the fire, where my mistress and I

stood silent. Catherine looked up, and instinctively raised her hand to

her cheek: his neighbourhood revived a painful sensation. Anybody else

would have been incapable of regarding the childish act with sternness,

but he scowled on her and muttered—“Oh! you are not afraid of me? Your

courage is well disguised: you _seem_ damnably afraid!”

“I _am_ afraid now,” she replied, “because, if I stay, papa will be

miserable: and how can I endure making him miserable—when he—when

he—Mr. Heathcliff, _let_ me go home! I promise to marry Linton: papa

would like me to: and I love him. Why should you wish to force me to do

what I’ll willingly do of myself?”

“Let him dare to force you,” I cried. “There’s law in the land, thank

God! there is; though we be in an out-of-the-way place. I’d inform if

he were my own son: and it’s felony without benefit of clergy!”

“Silence!” said the ruffian. “To the devil with your clamour! I don’t

want _you_ to speak. Miss Linton, I shall enjoy myself remarkably in

thinking your father will be miserable: I shall not sleep for

satisfaction. You could have hit on no surer way of fixing your

residence under my roof for the next twenty-four hours than informing

me that such an event would follow. As to your promise to marry Linton,

I’ll take care you shall keep it; for you shall not quit this place

till it is fulfilled.”

“Send Ellen, then, to let papa know I’m safe!” exclaimed Catherine,

weeping bitterly. “Or marry me now. Poor papa! Ellen, he’ll think we’re

lost. What shall we do?”

“Not he! He’ll think you are tired of waiting on him, and run off for a

little amusement,” answered Heathcliff. “You cannot deny that you

entered my house of your own accord, in contempt of his injunctions to

the contrary. And it is quite natural that you should desire amusement

at your age; and that you would weary of nursing a sick man, and that

man _only_ your father. Catherine, his happiest days were over when

your days began. He cursed you, I dare say, for coming into the world

(I did, at least); and it would just do if he cursed you as _he_ went

out of it. I’d join him. I don’t love you! How should I? Weep away. As

far as I can see, it will be your chief diversion hereafter; unless

Linton make amends for other losses: and your provident parent appears

to fancy he may. His letters of advice and consolation entertained me

vastly. In his last he recommended my jewel to be careful of his; and

kind to her when he got her. Careful and kind—that’s paternal. But

Linton requires his whole stock of care and kindness for himself.

Linton can play the little tyrant well. He’ll undertake to torture any

number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and their claws pared. You’ll

be able to tell his uncle fine tales of his _kindness_, when you get

home again, I assure you.”

“You’re right there!” I said; “explain your son’s character. Show his

resemblance to yourself: and then, I hope, Miss Cathy will think twice

before she takes the cockatrice!”

“I don’t much mind speaking of his amiable qualities now,” he answered;

“because she must either accept him or remain a prisoner, and you along

with her, till your master dies. I can detain you both, quite

concealed, here. If you doubt, encourage her to retract her word, and

you’ll have an opportunity of judging!”

“I’ll not retract my word,” said Catherine. “I’ll marry him within this

hour, if I may go to Thrushcross Grange afterwards. Mr. Heathcliff,

you’re a cruel man, but you’re not a fiend; and you won’t, from _mere_

malice, destroy irrevocably all my happiness. If papa thought I had

left him on purpose, and if he died before I returned, could I bear to

live? I’ve given over crying: but I’m going to kneel here, at your

knee; and I’ll not get up, and I’ll not take my eyes from your face

till you look back at me! No, don’t turn away! _do_ look! you’ll see

nothing to provoke you. I don’t hate you. I’m not angry that you struck

me. Have you never loved _anybody_ in all your life, uncle? _never_?

Ah! you must look once. I’m so wretched, you can’t help being sorry and

pitying me.”

“Keep your eft’s fingers off; and move, or I’ll kick you!” cried

Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. “I’d rather be hugged by a snake.

How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I _detest_ you!”

He shrugged his shoulders: shook himself, indeed, as if his flesh crept

with aversion; and thrust back his chair; while I got up, and opened my

mouth, to commence a downright torrent of abuse. But I was rendered

dumb in the middle of the first sentence, by a threat that I should be

shown into a room by myself the very next syllable I uttered. It was

growing dark—we heard a sound of voices at the garden-gate. Our host

hurried out instantly: _he_ had his wits about him; _we_ had not. There

was a talk of two or three minutes, and he returned alone.

“I thought it had been your cousin Hareton,” I observed to Catherine.

“I wish he would arrive! Who knows but he might take our part?”

“It was three servants sent to seek you from the Grange,” said

Heathcliff, overhearing me. “You should have opened a lattice and

called out: but I could swear that chit is glad you didn’t. She’s glad

to be obliged to stay, I’m certain.”

At learning the chance we had missed, we both gave vent to our grief

without control; and he allowed us to wail on till nine o’clock. Then

he bid us go upstairs, through the kitchen, to Zillah’s chamber; and I

whispered my companion to obey: perhaps we might contrive to get

through the window there, or into a garret, and out by its skylight.

The window, however, was narrow, like those below, and the garret trap

was safe from our attempts; for we were fastened in as before. We

neither of us lay down: Catherine took her station by the lattice, and

watched anxiously for morning; a deep sigh being the only answer I

could obtain to my frequent entreaties that she would try to rest. I

seated myself in a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment

on my many derelictions of duty; from which, it struck me then, all the

misfortunes of my employers sprang. It was not the case, in reality, I

am aware; but it was, in my imagination, that dismal night; and I

thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I.

At seven o’clock he came, and inquired if Miss Linton had risen. She

ran to the door immediately, and answered, “Yes.” “Here, then,” he

said, opening it, and pulling her out. I rose to follow, but he turned

the lock again. I demanded my release.

“Be patient,” he replied; “I’ll send up your breakfast in a while.”

I thumped on the panels, and rattled the latch angrily; and Catherine

asked why I was still shut up? He answered, I must try to endure it

another hour, and they went away. I endured it two or three hours; at

length, I heard a footstep: not Heathcliff’s.

“I’ve brought you something to eat,” said a voice; “oppen t’ door!”

Complying eagerly, I beheld Hareton, laden with food enough to last me

all day.

“Tak’ it,” he added, thrusting the tray into my hand.

“Stay one minute,” I began.

“Nay,” cried he, and retired, regardless of any prayers I could pour

forth to detain him.

And there I remained enclosed the whole day, and the whole of the next

night; and another, and another. Five nights and four days I remained,

altogether, seeing nobody but Hareton once every morning; and he was a

model of a jailor: surly, and dumb, and deaf to every attempt at moving

his sense of justice or compassion.