Wuthering Heights

Chapter 10

"Oh!" he snorted, and let me go. "I see that the wicked little rascal is not Hareton. I beg your forgiveness, Nelly. If it is he, he shall be skinned alive and called Bufei came running to greet me and screamed like I was a ghost. Inhuman little bastard, come here! I'll show you how to cheat a well-meaning bullied father. Listen, don't you think this kid Is it prettier with a cut in the ear? Dogs are fiercer with the tips of their ears cut off, and I like fierce things! Give me a pair of scissors, a fierce fixer! Besides, cherishing ears is fashion in hell, It's the vanity of the devil. An ass without ears. Shh, boy, shh, well then, my darling! Don't cry, wipe your tears, smile, kiss me. What! He won't? Kiss me, Hareton! Damn you, kiss me! My God, it looks like I'm going to keep such a monster! I'm not a man if I wring the kid's neck off!"

Poor Hareton screamed and kicked with all his might in his father's arms, and tripled his screams as he was carried upstairs and lifted over the railing.I yelled that he was going to scare the kid out of his mind, and rushed to save him.

When I came up to them, Hindley leaned over the railing to listen for a sound from downstairs, and almost forgot what he was holding.

"Who's that?" he asked, hearing someone approach the foot of the stairs.

I leaned out too, in order to signal to Heathcliff, I recognized his step, and wanted to tell him not to go any further.The instant my eyes left Hareton, he sprang, broke free from his absent-minded embrace, and fell.

We didn't have time to experience the blood-curdling horror before we saw the little villain safe and sound.Heathcliff just walked to the bottom at the threshold of a thousand hooks. As a result of his nature, he caught the thing that fell from the sky, and then helped him stand still before he raised his head and searched for the author of the accident.

A miser who gives up a lottery ticket for five shillings, and finds the next day that he has missed £[-] on the deal, is no more so than Heathcliff who sees the figure of Mr. Earnshaw above him. Come jaw-dropping.This look conveyed the most intense pain more clearly than words, because he actually threw himself into the trap and used it as a tool to dispel his revenge plan.If it had been at night, I dare say, he would have atoned for his mistake by knocking Hareton's skull out.But we saw that the child was saved.I rushed downstairs right then, holding the little one I was nursing close to my heart.

Hindley went downstairs much more calmly. He was a little embarrassed when he was sober.

"It's your fault, Ellen," he said. "You should have hidden him from me. You should have taken him from my arms! Is he hurt?"

"Hurt!" I yelled angrily. "Even if he didn't die, he'd be an idiot! Oh, I don't understand how his mother didn't come out of the grave, look what you did to him. You're worse than a cultist, to kill like this Your own flesh and blood!"

He wanted to touch his baby, but when he found it in my arms, he sobbed and cried away his terror.But as soon as his father's first finger touched him, he screamed again, louder than before.He struggled desperately, as if about to convulse.

"Leave him alone!" I went on. "He hates you, they all hate you, that's the truth! You have a happy family, but you ruined it to such a situation!"

"It could be better, Nelly," laughed the charming misguided man, recovering his hard heart. "Now, walk with him in your arms. And, listen, Heathcliff, go away too, before I see and hear... I won't kill you to-night unless, perhaps, I set fire to the The house is burning. But that depends on my mood."

As he spoke, he took out a bottle of brandy from the cupboard and poured some into his glass.

"Don't, don't drink!" I begged him. "Listen to me, Mr. Hindley. Spare the unfortunate boy, if you stop caring about yourself!"

"Anyone would treat him better than I," he replied.

"Poor your own soul!" I said, trying to wrest the cup from his hand.

"I don't pity me; on the contrary, I'd like nothing more than to send my soul to Hell, to punish its Maker," cried the blasphemy, "and drink to its willingness to go to Hell!"

He drank his wine, motioned us away impatiently, and concluded his order with a string of dreadful curses so vicious as to repeat that I do not care to remember them.

"It's a pity he didn't drink himself to death," said Heathcliff, returning a stream of oaths as the door closed. "He's beating himself to death, but he's no match for his body. Mr. Kenneth said he'd bet his mare that he'd outlive any man on Gimmerton's side, etc. He goes into the grave a gray-haired old sinner, unless some extraordinary misfortune befell him."

I went into the kitchen, sat down and put my little lamb to sleep.I thought Heathcliff had gone to the barn, but I found out later that he had just walked over to the side of the high-backed bench, and there he fell on a bench, far away from the fire, dead.

I rocked Hareton on my lap, and hummed a tune which began thus:

The night is late, the children grind their teeth,

Mother under the tomb heard.

Miss Cathy, who had been listening to the commotion outside her room, put her head in and asked me in a low voice:

"Are you alone, Nelly?"

"Yes, miss," I replied.

She went in and went to the fireplace.I thought she was going to say something, so I looked up.The look on her face looked bewildered and anxious.The lips are half opened, as if to speak.She took a breath, but what came out was a sigh, not a word.

I hummed my song again, I still haven't forgotten what she said just now.

"Where's Heathcliff?" she interrupted.

"His work in the stables," I replied.

He didn't come to correct it, maybe he was dozing off.

Then there was a long silence, during which I saw a tear or two fall down Catherine's face and drop to the floor.

"Is she ashamed of her disgraceful behavior?" I asked myself. "That's really new. But she can actually be ashamed if she wants to. I can't help her!" No, she can't be bothered about anything but her own.

"Oh, good man!" she exclaimed at last. "I'm so upset!"

"It's a pity," I said, "it's not easy to please you. So many friends and so little care, I'm not satisfied!"

"Nellie, can you keep a secret for me?" she continued, knelt beside me, lifting her charming eyes to my face with an air that gave me every reason to be angry but could not. up.

"Is it worth keeping quiet?" I asked, the sullenness having subsided somewhat.

"It's worth it, he upsets me so much that I must speak! I wonder what I shall do. Edgar Linton proposed to me today, and I gave him an answer. Now, I shall Don't tell me whether I agree or refuse, you tell me what I should do."

"Really, Miss Catherine, how should I know?" I answered. "Of course, from what you've done in front of him this afternoon, I have to say that the wise thing to do is to refuse him. Because he's either a hopelessly stupid or A daring fool."

"If you say that, I won't tell you more," she snapped back at me, straightening up. "I promise him, Nelly. Come on, tell me if I'm wrong!"

"You promised him! Then what's the point of discussing this matter again! Once you say something, you can't take it back."

"But tell me if I ought to do it, tell me!" she cried in an irritated voice, rubbing her hands, and frowning.

"There are many things to consider before answering this question properly," I said meaningfully. "First and most important question, do you love Mr. Edgar?"

"Who can't love? Of course I do," she replied.

Then I started the following series of conversations with her. For a 22-year-old girl, these conversations are not rash.

"Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?"

"Bullshit, I love it, that's enough."

"No, you have to say why."

"Well, because he's handsome, and it's a pleasure to be with him."

"Oops!" This is my comment.

"Because he's young and happy."

"Still bad."

"Because he loves me."

"It's irrelevant."

"He will be rich, and I will be the most amazing woman in this area, and I will be proud to have such a husband."

"It sucks. Now tell me how you love him."

"Love like everybody! You're silly, Nelly."

"Not stupid at all, answer me."

"I love the ground under his feet, the sky over his head, everything he touches, every word he utters. I love every expression of his face, every act of his, the whole of him people, come on!"

"Then why?"

"No, you're joking. You're so wicked! It's no joke to me!" said the young lady, frowning, and turning her face to the fire.

"I'm not kidding, Miss Catherine," I replied, "you love Mr. Edgar because he's handsome, young, happy, rich, and in love with you, but the last is nothing. Without it, you may still love him. With it, you may not, unless he has the first four charms."

"No, of course not. If he's ugly and a bumpkin, maybe, I'll just pity him—hate him."

"But there are other handsome rich young men in the world. Prettier and richer than him, perhaps. Why don't you love them?"

"Even if there is, I haven't seen it. I haven't seen anyone like Edgar."

"You'll see some. Besides, he won't always be pretty, and he won't always be young, and he won't always be rich."

"He is now. I'm just going for now. I want you to be reasonable."

"Well, that's it, if you just mind the present and marry Mr. Linton."

"I don't need your permission for this. I'm going to marry him. But you haven't told me I'm doing right?"

"That's right, if it's all right for a man to marry just now. Now, let's hear what's displeased you. Your brother will be happy. . . . The old lady and the old gentleman won't object, I suppose." .You can escape from a messy and uncomfortable home to a rich and respectable one. Besides, you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you. Everything seems to be going well. What's the trouble?"

"Here, here!" answered Catherine, slapping her forehead with one hand and beating her breast with the other, "where the soul dwells anyway. In my soul and my heart I am convinced that I am wrong.

"That's strange! I don't understand it."

"It's my secret, but if you don't laugh at me, I'll explain it to you. I can't tell, but I'll tell you how I feel."

She sat next to me again, her face became sad and heavy, and her clenched hands were trembling.

"Nellie, don't you ever have weird dreams?" she said suddenly, after a moment's thought.

"I do, sometimes," I replied.

"I do too. I had some dreams in my life that have stayed with me ever since and changed my mind. They inspired me over and over again, just like wine stirs water, changing the color of my soul This is one of them, and I'm going to tell it, but don't laugh at it anywhere."

"Oh! Don't talk, Miss Catherine!" I cried. "We're miserable enough without ghosts and ghosts to haunt us. Come, come, be merry, and be yourself! Look at little Hareton! He never has bad dreams. He sleeps, laughing How sweet!"

"Yes, how sweet the curse was when his father was alone! I dare say you remember him when he was a boy, when he was as young and innocent as the fat boy. But, Nelly , I want you to listen, it's not a long story, and I won't be happy tonight."

"I won't listen, I won't listen!" I hastened to reiterate.

I was very superstitious about dreams then, and I am still superstitious now.Catherine had an unaccustomed scowl, which made me dread something ominous, portending a dreadful misfortune.

She got angry, but didn't go on.Evidently she found another topic, and after a moment she said again:

"If I were in heaven, Nelly, I must be very, very miserable."

"Because you are not fit to be there," I replied, "sinners will suffer in heaven."

"That's not the case. I dreamed of heaven once."

"I tell you I don't want to listen to your dreams, Miss Catherine! I'm going to bed," I interrupted her again.

She laughed and sat me down as I was about to get up out of the chair.

"It's nothing," she cried, "I'm just saying that Heaven doesn't feel like home to me. I cried and broke my heart to go back to the earth, and the angels threw me in a rage and threw me on the ground at Wuthering Heights." In the middle of the wilderness. There I awoke, weeping with joy. That was enough to explain my secret, and my other misery. To marry Edgar Linton would be as dull as going to heaven. If I would never have thought of marrying Linton if that scoundrel over there hadn't brought Heathcliff down so low. To marry Heathcliff now would be to discredit me. So he'll never know me Love him so much, not because he's pretty, Nelly, but because he's more like me than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, I'm just like his in his soul. And Linton's soul is different from We are like moonlight from lightning, and frost from fire."

Before she had finished speaking, I realized that Heathcliff was in the room.I noticed a small movement and turned my head to see him get up from the bench and slip out without a sound.He had been listening, and when Catherine said that marrying him would damage her identity, he stopped listening.

My companion, sitting on the ground, was concealed by the high back of the bench, and did not see that Heathcliff was in the room, and that he went away again.But I was startled and told her to keep silent!

"What's the matter?" she asked, looking around nervously.

"Joseph is coming," I answered, just in time to hear his barrow rattle up the road, "and Heathcliff will come in with him. I wonder if he's at the door just now. "

"Oh, he can't be overheard at the door!" she said. "Give me Hareton, and get supper, and let me know when it's ready, and I'll eat with you. I'll trick my restless conscience into believing that Heathcliff doesn't understand such things. He is Don’t understand, do you? He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love, does he?”

"I don't see any reason why he shouldn't, as you do," I replied. "If he's after you, he's the most unfortunate man in the world! Once you're Mrs. Linton, he Lost friends, lost love, lost everything! Have you thought about how you will bear this separation, how he will be the loneliest person in the world? Because, Miss Catherine—”

"He is the loneliest man! We are separated!" she yelled angrily. "Who separated us, please? They will meet Milo, the famous ancient Greek wrestler in the 6th century BC. It is said that he wanted to tear the big tree apart, but he was bitten to death by wolves because his hands were caught in the cracks of the tree. Fate! As long as I am alive, Alan, no one dares. Every forest on the surface of the earth Ton is in smoke, and I will not promise to abandon Heathcliff. Oh, that is not my idea, that is not my meaning! I would rather not be Mrs Linton for the price! He will be as he used to be I will always be in my heart forever. Edgar must get rid of his prejudices, or at least put up with him. I see now, Nelly, you think me a selfish wretch. But has it never occurred to you, If I marry Heathcliff, I can only be a beggar? So, if I marry Linton, I can help Heathcliff to prosper and save him from my brother's power."

"With your husband's money, Miss Catherine?" I asked. "You'll find that he's not as talkative as you think, and though I'm not a judge, I think that of the many motives you gave me for wanting to be Little Linton's wife, this one is the worst and worst of all."

"No," she retorted, "this motive is the best and the best! Other motives satisfy my whims, and in Edgar's case, satisfy him too. This motive is for another, in him. Aggregate my feelings for Edgar and myself. I can't tell. But you and everyone obviously understand that there is, or should be, a you besides yourself. If I The whole thing is here, what use is it for God to make me? My greatest pains in this world are Heathcliff's pains, and I have seen and felt them all from the beginning. Greatest thought of my life It is himself. If all else is destroyed and he is the only one alive, I can live. If all else is safe and he is extinct, the universe becomes a huge stranger, and I am no longer like its own. One part. My love for Linton is like a leaf in the forest. Time will change it, I know it, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff is like the eternal rock under the tree, Gives a little visible pleasure, but a necessary one. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He is always, always in my heart, not as a pleasure, not at all as I am happiness, but existence as myself. So stop talking about us being apart, it's impossible. Besides—”

She stopped, hiding her face in the folds of my dress.But I dodged her abruptly, I couldn't bear her foolishness anymore.

"If I hear anything from your nonsense, miss," I said, "just let me see that you don't know anything about the responsibilities of marriage, or else you're a lawless, wicked girl. But don't take you any more." I'm bored with my secrets, and I won't promise to keep them for you."

"You're going to keep my words?" she asked eagerly.

"No, I don't promise you." I repeated.

(End of this chapter)