Wuthering Heights

Chapter 15

"I'm losing my mind, Nelly!" she yelled, throwing herself back onto the couch. "A thousand blacksmith's hammers beating in my head! Tell Isabella to stay away from me, she's the one who started all this mess. Now if she or anyone else gets on my nerves again, I'll go mad. Still Yes, Nelly, tell Edgar that if you see him again to-night I'll be very ill. I hope so. He comes to frighten me and torture me like that! I'll frighten him too. Besides, he'll probably come and babble or complain. I'm sure I'll pay him back, God only knows when we'll be over! Will you talk, my dear Nellie?. You know I'm above reproach in this matter. How did he come to eavesdrop with a ghost? Heathcliff spoke freely after you were gone; but I soon used Isabella's business. Off, the rest of the words are nothing to say. And now it's all messed up, because the fool is obsessed with trying to overhear him! If Edgar never heard our conversation, he never will I suffered because of it. Indeed, when he vented his displeasure to me for no reason, and didn't see that I was scolding Heathcliff for him, and my mouth was dry and my lips were scorched, I got down. I really don't want to care how far the two of them are fighting. Besides, I still feel that no matter how the drama ends, we must be separated, and we don't know when we will see each other again! Well, if I can't keep Heathcliff be my friend, and if Edgar is mean and jealous, I'll tear my heart to break theirs. It's a good way to get it done, since I'm at a loss! But this trick is a point of despair Hope, I can't use it easily. I won't surprise Bodden by surprise. He is always careful not to provoke me. You must tell him how dangerous it is to tell him not to do that. Let him remember my rage Temper, once irritated, will almost go crazy. I ask you to put away that indifferent look on your face, and hurry for me!"

The indifference with which I accepted these instructions was undoubtedly irritating, but the speaker was sincere.But I believe that a person who has calculated in advance to take advantage of her violent temperament can still be controlled even when she is in a rage, relying on her will.I would not "frighten Linton," as she put it, by adding infinite troubles to his troubles by furthering her selfish purposes.

So, when I met the host who was walking towards the living room, I didn't say anything.But I had the audacity to turn around to hear if they were going to fight again.

He spoke first:
"Stay still, Catherine," he said, with no bitterness in his voice, but much pathos. "I'm staying shortly. I'm not here to argue with you, or to make peace. I just want to know if, after tonight's events, you want to maintain that intimacy with that—"

"Oh, have mercy," interrupted the lady, stamping her foot, "have mercy, let's not talk about it just now! Your cold blood can't be warmed up, you can't be warmed up. Your veins are full of ice. Water. But my blood is boiling, look at you as cold as ice."

"Tell me to go and answer my questions first," Mr. Linton said unrelentingly. "You must answer. Craziness does not frighten me. I have found that you can be as composed as any man if you choose. From now on, will you give up Heathcliff, or me? You can't even think of being me." friend, and be his friend at the same time. I definitely want to know your choice."

"I beg you not to disturb me!" cried Catherine, furious. "I ask! Don't you see that I can't even stand? Edgar, you—you leave me!"

She rang the bell so hard that it broke with a bang.I walked in slowly.Such irrational, ferocious and evil anger can't even bear the temper of a saint!She was lying there, banging her head against the armrest of the sofa, gnashing her teeth in such a way that you thought she would grind them to pieces!

Mr. Linton stood watching, instantly remorseful and terrified.He told me to fetch some water.She couldn't speak anymore.

I brought a full glass of water and since she wouldn't drink I spilled it on her face.In just a few seconds, she stretched out straight, her eyes turned upwards, and her cheeks were pale and bruised immediately, as if she was about to die.

Linton appeared to be out of his wits.

"Nothing," I said quietly.I don't want him to succumb, although I can't help it, and I'm afraid in the bottom of my heart.

"Blood on her lips!" he said, shaking with fear.

"It's okay!" I replied tit for tat.I told him how, before he came in, she was determined to come and pretend to be crazy.

I was careless and spoke too loudly, and she overheard me.For she sprang up--her hair fell to her shoulders, her eyes glowed, and all the muscles of her neck and arms bulged out of nowhere.I made up my mind to break a few bones.But she just glanced around and rushed out of the room.

The master motioned me to follow, and I followed to the door of her bedroom, but she closed the door tightly and blocked me out.

The next morning, as she hadn't said she was coming down for breakfast, I went up and asked if she would bring some up.

"No!" she refused.

At noon and at tea time, I repeated the same question, and the next morning, I got the same answer.

Mr. Linton, for his part, spent his time in his study without asking what his wife was doing.Isabella had had a conversation with him, for an hour, during which he tried to elicit from her a moderate sense of dread at Heathcliff's aggression.But she answered so evasively that he got nowhere and had to do it hastily.But he added a very solemn warning, that if she should go so mad as to encourage her worthless suitor, it would be the end of all relations between her and him.

Miss Linton wandered about the grounds and gardens morosely, always in silence, and almost always in tears.Her brother sealed himself in the pile of books. He never opened those books at all. I guess, he was watching a vague but constant expectation, hoping that Catherine would change her past and come voluntarily. Beg for forgiveness, seek reconciliation.So longing, therefore, to hear his wife's name, for he could not hear her voice.She, on the other hand, was so determined not to eat, perhaps because she thought that between meals, Edgar would find it hard to swallow in her absence, and only pride held him back from galloping over and pounced. fell at her feet.At this time, I still manage my housework.I firmly believe that there is only one sane soul in Thrushcross Grange, and that soul lives in my body.

I did not waste my time trying to comfort the young lady, nor did I give my wife any advice, and I just turned a blind eye to my master's long and short sighs.

I expect them to come and see me, if they want to.Though it was a tiresomely slow process, at last I began to rejoice that there was a glimmer of light in the way things were going.At first I thought so.

On the third day, Mrs. Linton opened the latch, drank all the water in the jug and bottle, and asked for water and a bowl of gruel, because she believed she was dying.I guess these words were aimed at Edgar's ears.I don't believe in such things, so I put it in my stomach and gave her some tea and toast.

She ate and drank voraciously, then fell back on top of her pillow, clenched her fists, and moaned.

"Oh, I'm going to die," she cried, "nobody paid me the least bit, and I'd rather not eat."

After a while.I heard her murmuring:
"No, I'm not dead--he'll be happy--he doesn't love me at all--he never misses me!"

"Madam, what do you want?" I asked, maintaining my outward composure despite her ghostly complexion and uncanny demeanor.

"What's that heartless thing doing?" she asked, pushing her thick, tangled curls away from her emaciated face. "Is he suffering from sleeping sickness, or is he dead?"

"Neither sick nor dead," I replied, "if you're talking about Mr. Linton. He's all right, I think, though his study has kept him longer than is natural. He's been in his in the pile of books, because he has no company."

If I had known her real condition I should not have said this, but I can't get over the idea that her illness is half a faux pas.

"In his books!" she cried, greatly shocked. "But I'm dying! I'm on the verge of the grave! God! Does he know what I've become?" she went on, staring blankly at her reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. "Is that Katherine Linton? He thinks I'm swearing, joking, maybe, you can't tell him it's a deadly serious business? If it's not too late, Nelly, once I know what he thinks. I'll either starve to death right away, which is no punishment unless he has a conscience, or get back to health and get out of the country. Are you telling the truth about him now? Be careful. Does he really care so little about my life?"

"Why, ma'am," I answered, "it never occurred to the master that you were mad. Of course he never worried that you would starve himself to death."

"Is that how you see it? Can't you tell him I will?" she countered. "Tell him to believe it! Speak from your own mind, and say you're sure I will!"

"No, you forget, Mrs. Linton," I reminded her, "that you have eaten a little to-night, and you have enjoyed it, and you will know the goodness of it tomorrow."

"As soon as I'm sure that's going to kill him too," she interrupted, "I'll kill myself right away! Those three dreadful nights, I never closed my eyes, and, oh, I was I'm suffering! I'm haunted by ghosts, Nelly! But I'm beginning to think you don't like me. How strange! I thought that though everyone hated and fought each other, they couldn't stop loving Me. But in a few hours they were all enemies. They were changed, I'm sure. The people were changed here. How terrible it would be to meet Death amidst their cold faces! Isabella, too frightened and weary to come into my room, would have been too dreadful to watch Catherine go. Edgar stood by with a stony face, watching it all come to an end, and then said to God can't thank you enough for giving him the peace of home again, and letting him go back to his books! I'm about to die, and he's soaking in his books, and by everything that has a heart, that's all. What exactly do you mean?"

She could not bear my resigned philosopher, Mr. Linton.She tossed and turned, almost crazy with high fever and delirium, biting her pillow with her teeth.Then, burning red, she stood up and asked me to open the window.It was mid-winter at this time, and the northeast wind was blowing violently, so I refused.

Both the flashes of expression on her face and her changing moods began to seriously alarm me, reminding me of her previous serious illness and the doctor's warning not to make her angry.

She was very violent a minute ago, but now she puts up an arm, ignores my disobedience to her orders, and concentrates on pulling the feathers from the pillow through the hole she just tore like a child. come out.She arranged the feathers on the sheets according to the different species, her mind wandering to other thoughts.

"It's turkey feathers," she said to herself, "it's mallard feathers, and it's dove feathers. Oh, they put dove feathers in their pillows, so I can't die! When I lie down, , I have to throw it on the floor, it's the feather of a red grouse. This, I can recognize this in a thousand feathers, it's the feather of a lapwing. What a beautiful bird, hovering over us in the middle of the wilderness It was going back to its nest because the clouds had overwhelmed the hills and it felt it was going to rain. This feather was picked up from the moor, the bird was not shot, we have seen its nest in winter , full of little skeletons in it. Heathcliff put a bird-trap on it, so the old birds wouldn't dare to fly. Yes, there's more here! Did he hit my lapwing? Nelly? They Is it red? Is there any red in it? Let me see."

"Stop your childish tricks!" I interrupted, snatching the pillow and pressing the hole against the mattress as she emptied it out by the handful. "Lie down, close your eyes, you're dazed, and look at the mess! Feathers are flying all over the room like snowflakes."

I'm picking up feathers all over the place.

"Nellie, I see you changed," she went on as if in a dream, "into an old woman, gray-haired, stooped. This bed is a fairy cave under Peniston Rock, and you Picking up goblin arrowheads to shoot our heifers. I got closer and pretended to be picking wool. That's what you'll look like in 50 years, I know you're not now. I'm not confused, you're wrong Well, or I'd really believe you were that wizened old hag, and I'd really believe I'm under Peniston Rock. I know it's night, and there's two candles on the table, making the black chest look like black jade .”

"The black cupboard? Where is it?" I asked. "You are talking in your sleep!"

"Standing against the wall, it's always been there," she replied. "It was kind of weird - I saw a face in it.

"There's no cupboard in the room. There never was," I said, sitting down again, and raising the curtains to catch her.

"Didn't you see that face?" she asked again, staring intently at the mirror.

I tried my best, but I couldn't make her understand that it was her own face.So I got up and found a shawl and covered it up.

"It's still hiding there!" she said eagerly, persistently. "It moved. Who is it? I hope you didn't leave it to come out! Oh! Nelly, the house is haunted! I'm afraid to be left alone!"

I took her hand in mine and told her to be quiet.Because her whole body trembled, but she still stared at the mirror.

"There's no one here!" I didn't let go. "That's yourself, Mrs. Linton, as you've just realized."

"Myself!" she gasped, "the clock strikes twelve! Then it's true! How dreadful!"

Her fingers tightly grasped the eyelets of the clothes, and she pulled them up to cover her eyes.I wanted to sneak to the door and call her husband.But a scream called me back, and the shawl slipped from the frame.

"Hey, what's going on?" I yelled. "Who's a coward now? Wake up! It's a mirror—a glass mirror, Mrs. Linton. You see yourself in it, and me, beside you."

She was trembling and confused at the same time, she held on to me tightly and wouldn't let go.But gradually the fear faded from her face, and the pallor gave way to a flush of shame.

"Oh, dear, I thought I was at home," she said with a sigh. "I thought I was lying in my bedchamber at Wuthering Heights. I was so weak, my head was so dazed, and I didn't know how to scream myself. Don't say anything, just stay with me. I'm afraid to sleep, my Dreams are scary."

"You'll be all right with a good night's sleep, ma'am," I replied. "I hope you'll stop thinking about starving yourself after what you've been through."

"Oh, if only I were in my own bed at home!" she went on bitterly.Just wringing your hands. "The wind howls in the fir grove by the latticed window. Do let me feel it, it's blowing straight from the moor, do let me take a breath!"

For a few seconds I opened the window a little to keep her quiet.A gust of cold wind howled in.I close the window.Back to my seat.

Now she was lying still, with tears streaming down her face.Physically tossed about, and her whole spirit broken, our furious Catherine is now little more than a crying child.

"How long have I shut myself here?" she asked, suddenly regaining her spirits.

"That was Monday night," I answered, "and it is midnight on Thursday, not Friday morning."

"What! During a week?" she exclaimed. "Only so long?"

"It's long enough to live on cold water and a bad temper," I said.

(End of this chapter)