Wuthering Heights

Chapter 23

I can't help but think about this question: "Is he fair?" No matter what I do, this thought always haunts me.It was so tiresomely obstinate that I made up my mind to take a leave of absence and go to Wuthering Heights, to help the dead man do his final duty.Mr. Linton was most reluctant to assent, but I spoke eloquently of his present friendless state, and said my old master and nurse brother had as much right to my services as he had to appoint himself.Besides, I reminded him that the boy, Hareton, was his wife's nephew, and in view of having no nearer relation, he was bound to be his guardian.He should and must ask about the inheritance and take care of his brother-in-law's rights.

He was not fit to be involved in such matters at the time, but he asked me to speak to his lawyer, and in the end, agreed to do so.His solicitor is also of Earnshaw.I found him in the village and asked him to come with me.He shook his head, advised me not to provoke Heathcliff, and asserted that, if the truth were true, Hareton would have been little more than a beggar.

"His father died in debt," he said. "The whole estate is mortgaged, and the heir's only chance is to try to impress the debtor with some kindness, and to treat him with a little mercy."

When I arrived at Wuthering Heights, I explained that I had come to see if everything was in order.Joseph also had a sad face when he appeared, and he expressed his satisfaction with my arrival.Mr. Heathcliff said he could see no use in my coming, but I could stay and arrange the funeral if I wanted to.

"Precisely," he said, "that fool's body should be buried at the crossroads without any ceremony. I happened to be away from him for ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and during that All the doors are shut and I'm not allowed in, and all night he's been drinking, trying to kill himself! We broke down this morning because we heard him panting like a horse. He was in There, lying on the high-backed chair, skinning him, scalping him and not waking him up. I sent for Kenneth, and he came, but the beast was a carcass—he was dead. It's cold, it's cold, and it's stiff. So you have to admit that it's useless to fiddle with him!"

The old servant affirmed what he said, but muttered:

"I'd rather he'd call for the doctor himself! I'll take better care of my master than he, and he didn't die when I went, not at all!"

I insisted on a decent funeral, and Heathcliff said I could do as much as I could.It's just that he wants me to remember that the money for this matter from start to finish comes out of his pocket.

He always maintained a cold and indifferent look, neither joy nor sorrow.If there is any expression, he is expressing a kind of cold satisfaction, for him to operate well, and you're done.Sure enough, once I saw something almost smug on his face.That was when people carried out the coffin from the hall, and he was so hypocritical, pretending to be a funeral.Before following out with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate boy onto the table, and murmured with rare interest:

"Now, my dear boy, you are mine! Let us see, and if a tree will not grow crooked and crooked like another, let the same wind blow it astray!"

The unsuspecting little thing was pleased to hear him say this, and he played with Heathcliff's beard and stroked his cheek.But I tasted the meaning of these words, and said sharply:
"The boy must come back to Thrushcross Grange with me, sir. Go for anything in the world, but don't want the boy!"

"Did Linton say the same?" he asked.

"Of course, he told me to take him back," I replied.

"Well," said the rascal, "we're not arguing about that right now. But I just want to try my hand at taking a baby. So tell your master that if he wants to take a baby, I'll My own flesh and blood will fill the gap. I don't want to hand Hareton over, but I'm sure I'll call that one! Remember to tell him."

This hint is enough to tie our hands.When I got back I repeated the meaning of what I had said, and Edgar Linton was at first uninterested, and never brought up the subject of intervention.In fact, even if he wanted to intervene, I don't see what he can do.

The guest is now the master of Wuthering Heights: he holds the estate firmly in his hands, he proves to the lawyer, who in turn proves to Mr Linton that Earnshaw has staked every inch of his land for cash He gambled like crazy.And he, Heathcliff, is the prisoner.

Thus, Hareton, who should have been the leading gentleman in the circle, was reduced to living entirely by his father's sworn enemy, and in his own mansion, he was like a servant who was deprived of his wages and had no There is no hope of regaining his status, because he has no relatives and knows nothing about the wrongs he has suffered.

Following this sad period, Mrs. Dean went on to say that the next 12 years were the happiest of my life.In these years, the most troublesome thing for me is that my young lady has a little problem. This problem treats all children equally, regardless of poor or poor.

The rest of the time, six months after she was born, she grew up like a larch, and could walk and talk in her own way, and the wild flowers on the moor were not as wild as they were in Mrs Linton's. The grave is blooming for the second time.

She was the sweetest little thing, bringing sunshine into a dreary house at last.It was a real beauty in the face, with the beautiful dark eyes of the Earnshaws, the fair skin and fine features of the Lintons, and the golden curls.She is also good-spirited, but not rough, and she has a sensitive and overly enthusiastic and lively heart.She looks amazing when she gets along with people, and reminds me of her mother.But she is not like her, because she can be as gentle and docile as a dove, her voice is soft, her expression is deep, she never gets angry when she is angry, her love is never fierce and capricious, her love is deep and Moderate.

But it must be admitted that, to complement her talent, she also has shortcomings.One of them is liking to be tricky and savage, and there is also willfulness, which is a common problem of drowned children.Whether their tempers were good or bad, if any of the servants happened to piss her off, she always said, "I'll tell papa!" Big deal.I don't believe he ever said a harsh word to her.

He took over her education entirely, and made it a pleasure.Fortunately, curiosity and a sharp intellect turned her into a good student, who was quick and eager to learn.It added luster to his teaching.

Until she was 13 years old, she had never stepped out of the garden by herself.Mr. Linton would occasionally take her a mile away, but he would never give her up to anyone else.Gimmerton was an illusory name to her ears, and the church was the only building she had ever approached or walked into besides her own home.Neither Wuthering Heights nor Heathcliff existed for her.She is completely isolated from the world, and obviously completely content.Indeed, sometimes, looking out over the country from the nursery window, she would say:

"Alan, how long will it take before I can walk to the top of these mountains? I really want to know what is on the other side of the mountain, is it the sea?"

"No, Miss Cathy," I'd reply, "there's still a mountain like this."

"What do those golden rocks look like when you stand under them?" she asked me once.

The sheer walls of Peniston Cliffs especially interested her, especially when the sun shone down on it and the peaks of the mountains, leaving the rest of the landscape in shadow.

I explained that they were nothing but heaps of bare stones, with little dirt in the crevices to support even a young tree.

"Why is it still shining brightly after a long night here?" She asked again.

"Because they are much higher than our side," I answered. "You can't climb it, they are too high and steep. In winter, there is always frost before here. Even in midsummer, I was still in the black hole northeast of there, and I saw snow!"

"Oh, you've been there!" she exclaimed excitedly. "So when I grow up I can go too. Has Daddy ever been, Ellen?"

"Papa will tell you, ma'am," I answered hastily, "that they are not worth visiting. The moors where you walk with him are far better. Thrushcross Gardens are the best place in the world."

"But I know the garden, but I don't know about it," she said to herself. "I'll be happy standing on the top of the highest cliff and looking around. My little Mamini will take me someday."

One girl mentioned the Fairy Cave, which made her fascinated, and she always wanted to think about it but wish for it.For this she clings to Mr. Linton, and he promises to let her go when she grows up.But Miss Catherine counts ages by months:

"Now, am I old enough to go to Peniston Rock?" was the endless question on her lips.

The road there was winding and winding, and it was very close to Wuthering Heights. Edgar had no intention of passing there, so the answer she got was always:

"Not yet, dear, not yet."

I said that Mrs. Heathcliff lived twelve years after leaving her husband.Her family was fragile, and neither she nor Edgar had that flush of health that you see around here.What ailment she ended up suffering from, I cannot say.I suppose they all died of the same disease, a fever that came on slowly at first but was hopeless, and finally consumed the life.

She wrote to her brother to tell her brother that she had been ill for four months, and she was afraid that it would be bad luck, and asked him to come and see her if it was convenient, because she had many things to tell, and she hoped to say goodbye to him and leave Lin Dunan was delivered to him safely.Her wish was to leave little Linton to him as she had been with her before.His father, she decided with all her heart, didn't want to be burdened with raising him.

My master complied with her request without hesitation.Ordinary people would always be very reluctant to leave home when they invited him, but this time he ran very fast.He entrusted Catherine to me, told me to be especially careful in his absence, and repeatedly told her not to go out of the park, even in my company.As for her going alone without any company, he didn't even think about it.

He was gone for three weeks.For the first day or two, my little baby sat in the corner of the study, too sad to read or play.It was very easy for me to stay so quietly.But then she grew impatient and restless.I was old and too busy at that time to run up and down to please her, so I figured out a way to let her have fun by herself.

I usually send her on a journey, now on foot, now on a pony.When she returns, be a patient listener to all her adventures, real or imagined.

In summer, when the greenery was lush, she was fascinated by such solitary adventures, and often found a way to stay out from breakfast to tea.Then, the evenings were spent retelling her strange stories.I'm not afraid of her crossing the border, because the gates are usually locked, and even if they were open, I don't think she would have the guts to break out alone.

Unfortunately my trust went wrong.One morning, at eight o'clock, Catherine came to me, saying that she was an Arabian merchant that day, and that she was going to cross the desert with her men, and that I had to provide enough food, not only for herself, but also for herds: a horse Horses and three camels, the latter represented by a large hound and two short-haired dogs.

I made a good pile of good things, and put them in a basket on the side of the saddle.She was as happy as a fairy, jumped high, wore a wide-brimmed hat, and hung a veil to keep out the July sun, and rode out laughing all the way, and told her to be careful and not to hurry for me. Run, the exhortation to go home earlier was just a joke.

There was no sign of the naughty little thing until tea time.A traveler, the big hunting dog, because of his old age and his love for the nest, returned.But whether it was Cathy, the pony, or the pair of puppies, there was no shadow in any direction.I sent people to find this way, to find that way, and finally.I turned around to find her myself.

On the border of the farm a laborer was repairing a fence around a field.I asked him if he saw our lady.

"I saw her coming this morning," he answered. "She asked me to cut her a hazel whip, and she whipped the pony over the fence over there, where it was the shortest, and ran away without a trace."

You can guess how I felt when I heard the news.I thought then that she must have gone to Peniston Rock.

"Is something going to happen to her?" I blurted out, rushing through the gap the man was patching and heading straight for the road.

As if betting with someone, I walked like flying, mile after mile, until I turned a corner and saw Wuthering Heights, but there was no sign of Catherine near or far.

The Cliffs were still about a mile and a half from Mr. Heathcliff's abode, and four miles from the Grange.So I started worrying that before I got there, night would be falling.

"What if she stumbles while climbing the mountain," I thought, "what if she falls and dies, or breaks a bone?"

I was tormented by worry, so when I hurried past the farmhouse on the Grange and saw Charlie, the fiercest of the Dobermans, lying under a window with his swollen head and blood dripping from his ears, he was relieved at first. tone.I opened the fence, rushed to the door, and beat on it desperately to get in.The door was answered by a woman I knew, formerly of Gimmerton, who had been maid there since Mr Earnshaw's death.

"Ah," she said, "you've come to see your lady! Don't be afraid, she's well here. I'm glad it wasn't the master."

"So he's not home, is it?" I gasped, out of breath from the haste and the fright.

"No. Not," she replied. "He and Joseph are out, and I don't think they'll be back for an hour or two. Come in and rest."

I went into the house and saw my lost lamb sitting by the fire wall, rocking to and fro in the little chair her mother used to sit in.Her hat was hanging on the wall, and she was perfectly at ease, talking and laughing to Hareton, in all the best of spirits.Hareton was a tall, well-built lad now, and stared at her with great curiosity and amazement, and could not understand the words and questions which she uttered incessantly.

"Yes, ma'am," I cried, hiding my joy with a scowl. "It's the last time you'll ride until your father comes back. I won't let you out even over the threshold, because I can't trust you, you naughty, naughty girl!"

"Ah, Ellen!" she exclaimed, leaping joyfully to my side. "I'm going to tell a good story tonight, and you found me at last. Have you ever been here in your life?"

"Put on your hat and go home right away," I said. "I'm really sorry for you, Miss Cathy, you've done a terrible mistake. It's no use pouting and crying, it doesn't make up for my hard work. I've searched all over the country for you. Think Mr. Linton is Why did you tell me to keep you at home, but you sneaked out like this. It can be seen that you are really a cunning little fox, and no one will believe you anymore."

"What have I done?" she sobbed, sobbing on the spot. "Papa didn't tell me anything. He wouldn't scold me, Ellen, he never lost his temper, unlike you!"

"Come here, come here!" I said again. "I'll tie you a hat. Now let's stop being mean. Oh, don't be ashamed. You're thirteen and still a doll!"

I yelled at her because she pushed off the hat she was wearing, and retreated to the chimney to keep me out.

"Don't," said the servant, "don't be so cruel to the pretty little girl, Mrs. Dean. We made her stay. She wants to ride, and she's afraid you'd be worried. But Hareton says he'll go with her." Go, I think he should be right. The road in the mountains is difficult to walk."

Hareton stood with his hands in his pockets all the time we talked, too embarrassed to speak, though he didn't seem to like my sudden intrusion.

"How long do I have to wait?" I went on, oblivious to the woman's meddling. "It'll be dark in ten minutes. Where's the pony, Miss Cathy? Where's the Phoenix? If you don't hurry up, I'll leave you here, if you like."

"The pony's in the yard," she answered, "and the phoenix is ​​shut up there, and he's bitten, and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all this, but you're too fierce to hear."

I picked up her hat and went up to try to put it on her again.But she saw that everyone in the room was on her side, so she started to walk around the room, and when I chased her, she ran like a mouse, running over, under, and behind the furniture, telling me to chase her. She chased very funny.

Hareton and the woman laughed.She laughed along with them, becoming more and more impolite, until I could bear it no longer and cried out:
"Well, Miss Cathy, if you knew whose house this was, you'd be dying to get out."

"It's your father's, isn't it?" she said, turning to Hareton.

"No," he answered, flushing and bowing his head.

He couldn't bear the way she stared at him with bright eyes, even though they were so similar to his own.

"And whose—your master's?" she asked.

His face turned redder, but the redness had another meaning. He uttered a curse, turned and walked away.

"Who is his master?" the girl pestered me again. "He always said 'our house', 'our family'. I think he must be the son of the master here. He never called A miss. If he is a servant, he should call, shouldn't he?"

Hareton's face was clouded and gloomy after hearing these childish words.I also told the lady not to ask any more questions, and finally got her dressed and ready to walk.

(End of this chapter)