Wuthering Heights

Chapter 21

I saw several spots of blood on the tree trunk, his hands and forehead were all bloody.It is probable that I have seen this scene he has acted many times before in the night.It's hard to sympathize with me, it scares me.But I couldn't bear to leave him like this.However, as soon as he came to his senses and noticed me looking at him, he snarled and ordered me to go away, which I obeyed.There was nothing I could do to quiet him or comfort him.

Mrs. Linton's funeral was scheduled for the Friday after her death.Before that, her coffin had been uncovered, sprinkled with flowers and herbs, and placed in the large living room.Linton stayed there day and night, a blind watchman.And--no one but I knew--Heathcliff was at least out on vigil, and equally sleepless.

I haven't been in touch with him, but I still know he's trying to get in, if he can.On Tuesday, just after dark, my master was so tired that he had to go to rest for two hours.At this time, I went to open a window. I was moved by his perseverance, so I gave him a chance to say a final goodbye to his fading image.

He didn't miss this opportunity, and came in carefully and quickly, so careful that no sound would betray his arrival.In truth, I wouldn't have known he had been there, had it not been for the disheveled drape over the corpse's head, and the fact that I saw a lock of light-colored hair on the floor, tied with a silver thread, and looked at me It is understood that it was taken out of a small box hanging around Catherine's neck.Heathcliff opened the box, threw away its contents, and replaced it with a lock of his own black hair.I twisted two strands of hair into one strand and put them in together.

Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to come and intercede his sister's body.He made no excuses to refuse, but he never came.So apart from her husband, the funeral people consisted entirely of tenants and servants.Isabella was not invited.

Catherine was buried, to the astonishment of the villagers, neither under the inscription stone of the Linton family in the church, nor beside the graves of her own family outside the church.It was dug on a green hillside, in a corner of the cemetery, and the walls were so low.The flowering brambles and raspberries and the like had crawled up from the heath, and the peaty soil had almost buried it.Her husbands now lie in the same spot, each standing on a simple stone tablet, at the foot of which is a plain gray bar, marking the grave.

That Friday was our last sunny day in a month.At night, the sky changes.The south wind gave way to the northeast, bringing first rain, then frost and snow.

The next morning it was almost impossible to imagine that three weeks of summer had just passed: the primroses and crocuses were buried under the snow, the larks were silent, and the young leaves on the young trees were battered and blackened. .That morning crawled through in desolation, cold, and gloom!My master hid in the house, and I took possession of the lonely hall, and made it a nursery.I sat there with the crying baby on my lap.I rocked her from side to side while watching the snow, still streaming, coalesce on the stripped window.At this time, the door suddenly opened, and someone walked in, out of breath, and laughed!
For a moment my anger overshadowed my astonishment, and I guessed it was a maid, and cried out:

"Don't make trouble! How dare you mess around in this place? What would Mr. Linton say about you if he heard about it?"

"Forgive me!" replied a familiar voice, "but I know Edgar is in bed, and I can't help coming."

Saying so, the visitor walked towards the fireplace, panting with his hands on his waist.

"I ran all the way from Wuthering Heights!" she went on after a pause. "I can't remember how many tumbles I've fallen, except the way I flew. Oh, my whole body hurts! Don't make a fuss, I'll explain it to you as soon as I can, just do a good job and get out and get a carriage , take me to Gimmerton, and send a servant to look for some clothes in my wardrobe."

It was Mrs. Heathcliff, and it was evident that she was not to be laughed at.Her hair was loose on her shoulders, dripping with snow, and she was wearing girls' clothes, which were her usual clothes, which were more suitable for her age than her status, and there was nothing on her head or neck.Short-sleeved top with a low cut at the bust.The blouse was made of thin silk and clung to her body dripping wet.Apart from a pair of flimsy slippers, there was a deep gash under one ear, which was kept from bleeding only by the cold.A white face was covered with scratches, bruised and purple, and the face was tired and barely supported.As you can imagine, when I settled down to take a closer look at her, the initial shock was not much relieved.

"My dear little lady," I cried, "I'm not going anywhere or listening to anything unless you take off your clothes one by one and put on dry ones. Of course you won't be going to Jill to-night." Merton, so I don't have to hail a cab."

"Of course I'll go," said she. "Walk or ride. But I don't object to being well dressed. Oh, look how my neck is bleeding now! The fire's got the blood coming out."

She insisted that I obey her instructions or not let me touch her.It wasn't until the coachman got ready as I ordered and a girl came to pack some necessary clothes that she allowed me to bandage her wounds and change her clothes.

"Now, Ellen," said she when I was done, sitting in an easy chair by the fire with a cup of tea in front of her, "you sit across from me and let go of poor Catherine's baby, I Don't like to see her! You mustn't think that I didn't pay attention to Catherine and just came in so stupidly. I cried too, and cried sadly. Yes, I have more reasons to cry than anyone else. We didn't Reconciled and parted, you remember, I couldn't forgive myself. But even so, I'm not going to pity him, the savage beast! Oh, give me the poker! It's the last thing I have of him around me." He took off the gold ring from his finger and threw it on the ground. "I'm going to knock it flat!" she went on, knocking with childish venting, "and burn it!" She picked up the unrecognizable thing and threw it in the coals. "Look! If he wants me back, he'll have to buy another. He'll come after me, to mess with Edgar. I dare not stay here lest the thought creep into his wicked head! Besides, Edgar is not kind to him, is he? I don't want to come to him for help, and I don't want to cause him more trouble. I have no choice but to come here and hide. Although, if I didn't know him Not here, I have to stay in the kitchen, wash my face, warm myself, let you bring what I need, and then go, go anywhere, just escape my villain, the devil incarnate! What a pity for Ern Xiao is no match for him in terms of strength, if Hindley can do it, I don't want to run away, I'd rather watch him crumble to pieces!"

"Well, don't talk so fast, miss!" I interrupted her, "you'll loose the handkerchief I tied around your face, and the wound will bleed again. Drink your tea, catch your breath, and stop laughing. Under this roof, laughing is sadly out of place for you!"

"I can't deny that," she answered. "Listen to that child! She's crying--hold her away for an hour, and don't let me hear the crying, I won't stay any longer."

I rang the bell, and leaving the baby in the care of a servant, I asked her why she had escaped from Wuthering Heights in such a disorder, and where she was going, since she would not stay with us.

"I should, and I would like to stay," she answered, "to make Edgar happy, and to look after the baby, and to kill two birds with one stone, for the Grange is my own home. But I tell you, he won't let it!" Do you think he can stand watching me gain weight and be happy? Knowing that we are living a quiet life without making decisions to poison our good life? Now, I am satisfied and know that he is tired of me , so tired of hearing that I see and see that I seriously want to show off. Once I was in front of him, I noticed that the muscles on his face twisted involuntarily, twisting into a disgusted expression. This is partly because he knew that I There was good reason to hate him, and half because he hated me naturally—a loathing so strong that I was quite sure he wouldn't come and chase me all over England if I got away. So I must At first I would have preferred to be killed by him, but now I have no such desire. I would rather he had killed himself! My love has been completely extinguished, so I am at ease. But I can still remember how much I loved him, And I still have a vague feeling that I can still love him, as long as no, no! Even if he once doted on me, his devilish nature will reveal his true nature sooner or later. Catherine clearly knows that he is a devil, but still like this Love him dearly, what a strange taste! I wish he had passed from this world, from my memory!"

"Hush, shush! He's human," I said. "Be merciful, there are people worse than him in this world!"

"He's not a man," she retorted. "He doesn't deserve my mercy—I gave him my heart, and he took it and strangled it and threw it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen. Now that he has broken my heart, I am incapable of feeling him, and if he groans from now on till the day he dies, and weeps and bleeds for Catherine, I shall have no sympathy for him! No, Seriously, really, I never will!" At this point Isabella began to cry.But as soon as the tears were streaming from her eyelashes, she went on:
"You ask me, what made me finally flee? I had to, because I had fanned his anger a little higher than his evil. Using red-hot pincers to fiddle with nerves A blow to the head always needs to be more calm. He has been provoked by me to forget the devilish prudence he boasted, and is about to use violence to kill. Being able to provoke him into anger gives me pleasure, and the pleasure awakens my instinct of self-preservation. So , I ran away resolutely, and if I fell into his hands again, I had no choice but to let him take revenge.

"Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw was supposed to be at the funeral. He stayed sober for that reason--mostly sober. He went to bed crazy at six o'clock and got up drunk at twelve. So, he got up in a bad mood. Deadly low, as unfit for church as he was for dancing, he sat down by the fire instead, and swallowed his scotch and brandy glass by glass.

"Heathcliff—I tremble at the very mention of that name! From a thousand Sundays to this day he's been a stranger in this house. Whether it was the angels or his fellows underground who fed him, I can't tell. But about the same He hadn't had a meal with us for a week. He came home at dawn, went upstairs to his bedroom, and locked himself up, as if someone dreamed of being with him! Stayed there, praying like a Methodist, except that the gods he prayed to were mindless dust, and God, whenever he was mentioned, was strangely associated with his own demon father. Get mixed up! After these rare prayers--usually he always does till he's hoarse and choked in his throat--he goes out again, always straight for the Grange! I wonder why Edgar doesn't Go call a policeman, and have him arrested! For me, though grieved for Catherine, I cannot help looking at this time as a holiday, freed from the humiliating oppression.

"I recovered enough spirits to listen to Joseph's endless lectures without tears, and to walk up and down the house instead of stalking like a frightened thief as I used to. It will make me cry, but he and Hareton are a loathsome company. I'd rather sit with Hindley, and listen to his appalling nonsense, than 'the young master' and his faithful helper, That bad old man stay together!
"When Heathcliff was at home I was often obliged to turn to the kitchen, and the servants, or starve in damp and unoccupied bedrooms. When he was away, as it was this week, I Just set a table and a chair in a corner of the hall by the fire, and never bothered what Earnshaw was up to, and he didn't come to meddle in my business. He's quieter than usual now, and if no one annoys him, He became more sullen and less violent. Joseph concluded that he was sure he was a changed man, that God had touched his heart, that he was saved, that he was 'fired all over again.' I sensed this good I was also quite surprised by the signs of a turning point, but it was none of my business.

"Last night I sat in my corner reading some old books until nearly twelve o'clock. It was miserable going upstairs, with the snow dancing wildly outside, and my thoughts kept turning to the cemetery, and the new building. I hardly dared to lift my eyes from the page in front of me, and when I did, the melancholy scene loomed before my eyes.

"Hindley sat opposite, with his head on his hands, perhaps meditating on the same thing. He had given up drinking, to the point of being worse than irrational, and hadn't stirred for two or three hours. , nor said a word. There was no sound in the room, only the groaning wind shaking the windows now and then, the coals cracking softly, and the candle snips when I cut long wicks from the candles every once in a while. There was a crackling sound. Hareton and Joseph were probably in deep sleep on the bed. It was very, very sad, and I sighed as I read, for it seemed that all the joy had vanished from the world, never to return.

"The gloomy silence was broken at last by the rattling of the kitchen latch, and Heathcliff returned from his vigil earlier than usual, probably because of the sudden blizzard, I think.

"The door was bolted, and we heard him go around to another door, trying to get in there. I rose, and I felt an irresistible expression on my lips, which attracted my attention." My companion, who had been staring blankly at the door, now turned to look at me:

"'I'll lock him out for five minutes,' cried he, 'and you don't object?'

"'No, you can keep him out all night for me,'" I answered. "Close it. Put the key in the lock and pull the deadbolt."

"Earnshaw finished this before his visitor could reach the door. Then he put his chair across from my table, and leaned forward, his eyes burning with hatred. I searched for a hint of empathy in my eyes. Since he looked and felt like a murderer, he wasn't sure if he found empathy at all. But he found enough, too, enough to encourage him to talk.

"'You and I,' said he, 'have a bill to settle with that man out there! If we were neither cowards, we could join together to settle it. Are you as weak as your brother? Will you bear it to the end, Won't you give it a try in return?"

"'I have had enough now,' replied I, 'and I am glad that my own vengeance should not be involved; but cunning and violence are spears pointed at both ends, and they wound more upon those who wield them than on their enemies. It's better."

"'Trick and violence is nothing but counter-trick and violence!' cried Hindley. 'Mrs Heathcliff, I want you to do nothing but sit and keep silent. Tell me now, can you? I am convinced You'll be as happy as I am to see the devil die. If you don't strike first, he'll be your death, and he'll ruin me too. Damn the devil! He's knocking on the door, as if he were already here My lord! Promise me to hold your tongue, and before that bell strikes—not a little less than three minutes—you'll be a free man!"

"He drew from his bosom the weapon which I described in my last letter, and tried to blow out the candle. But I snatched it away, and seized him by the arm.

"'I won't hold my tongue!' I said, 'you mustn't touch him . . . keep that door shut and be quiet!'

"'No! I have made up my mind, and, by God, I will!' cried the desperate man. 'I will do you a favor. Whether you want it or not, it will be Hareton's. Justice! You needn't bother to protect me, Catherine is dead, and no living man will regret me, or be ashamed of me, even if I cut my throat now. It's time to end it!'

"I seemed to be wrestling a bear, or reasoning with a madman. My only recourse was to run to a window and warn the man he was about to attack to the fate that awaited him.

"'You'd better go somewhere else tonight!' I cried, in a rather triumphant tone. 'Mr Earnshaw is going to kill you if you insist on coming in.' '

"'You'd better open the door, you--' he replied, addressing me with such elegant terms as I don't bother to repeat.

"'I don't care about it,' I retorted. 'Come in and get shot if you like! I've done my duty.'

"Then I closed the window, and returned to my seat by the fire, with so little hypocrisy at my disposal, that I could not pretend to be tormented by the danger that threatened him.

"Earnshaw cursed me furiously, and asserted that I was still in love with the scoundrel, who called me all kinds of infamy for the meanness I displayed. And I, in my own heart, thought that if Heathcliff How happy it was to him to get him out of his misery; and how happy it was to me if he sent Heathcliff where he ought to be! My conscience never condemned me. So I sat thinking when the pane behind me fell with a thump to the ground, it was from the blow of Heathcliff, whose dark face was looking in sullenly. The bars were too close together for his shoulders to squeeze. Come in. I smile, proud of myself for being safe. His hair and clothes are white with snow, and his teeth, sharp as man-eating ones, glisten in the dark with cold and anger.

"'Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you regret it!' he grinned, just as Joseph said.

(End of this chapter)