Wuthering Heights

Chapter 4

"'You forget you have a master here,' said the tyrant. 'I'll kill whoever annoys me first! I want perfect solemnity. Oh boy, is that you? Francis , babe, tug at his hair as you come over, I hear him snap his fingers.'

"Francis happily plucked his hair and came and sat on her husband's lap. There they were like two little babies for a whole hour kissing and talking nonsense, silly sweet talk , let us hear really ugly.

"Under the vault of the cupboard we tried to be comfortable. I just knotted our napkins together and hung them up for a curtain. Then Joseph came in, coming from the stables. He tore off my work, gave me two slaps, and yelled loudly:
"'My lord has only just been buried, and the Sabbath is not over, and the Gospel is still ringing in your ears, and you dare come and play! Shameless! Sit down, bad boy! There are so many good books, if you will. Sit down , think of your souls!'

"So saying, he compels us to sit up straight, so that we may read, by the dim light of a distant fire, the obnoxious scriptures he thrusts upon us.

"I couldn't bear the work, and grabbed my dirty book by the cover, and flung it into the doghouse, cursing that I hated good books.

"Heathcliff kicked his books into the same place.

"Then the situation suddenly changed!

"'Master Hindley!' cried our vicar, 'come here, my lord! Miss Cathy has torn the cover off of Helm of Salvation, and Heathcliff has stuck his paw in Ruin Volume [-] of The Thoroughfare! It's hell to let 'em go on like this. Hey! The old man's gotta give 'em a slap, and he's not here!'

"Hindley came hastily from his hearthside heaven, grabbed us both by the collar and by the arm, and threw them both into the back kitchen. Joseph asserted that the fiend 'Old Nick' was there to put We took it, it was as sure as we were alive and breathing. So comforted, we each found a corner and waited for his coming.

"I snatched the book from the shelf, and a bottle of ink, and pushed the door open for a glimmer of light, and spent twenty or ten minutes writing. But my partner got impatient and suggested that we crawl into the milkmaid's coat , take it for a walk on the moors. Good idea! Then if that old man comes in, he will also believe his prophecy has come true-we won't be wetter or colder in the rain than we are here .”

I think Catherine got her wish, for the next sentence changed the subject, and she became teary.

"I never thought Hindley would make me cry like this!" she wrote. "I have a headache so bad I can't put it on the pillow, but I still can't calm it down. Poor Heathcliff! Hindley called him a rascal, and wouldn't let him sit with us, or be with us again. and he said that I would not play with him, and threatened to throw Heathcliff out of the house if I disobeyed his orders.

"He has been blaming his parents for letting Xi Tai go, how dare he do this? He also swore that the God of Gamblers would send him to his proper position—"

Facing this blurred page of the book, I started to feel sleepy, and my eyes wandered from the handwritten font to the printed font.I saw a red set of headlines: "Seventy by Seven, First of 71. A Sermon Sermon Preached by Jebs Brandham at Gimmerton Church."I was dazed, thinking hard about how Jabs Brandham would develop his topic, and before I knew it, I fell on the bed and fell asleep.

God, it's all that bad tea and bad temper!What else could have brought me through such a dreadful night?As long as I have known suffering, I cannot recall a single experience that could compare with this night.

I began to dream, almost at the moment when I was about to forget where I was.I think it was in the morning, and I was walking home, and Joseph was my guide.There is a lot of snow on the road.As we stumbled on, my companions chattered and reproached me, which bored me.He said I should have taken a fellow on pilgrimage, said that without such a fellow I would never have been able to enter the house.As he talked, he swung a bludgeon with his teeth and claws, and I knew that this was what he called a mysterious guy.

For a moment I thought it was absurd that I could walk into my own home with such a weapon.Then a new thought came to my mind.I didn't go home: we made the trek to hear the famous Jebs Brandham preach his "Seventy by Seven" verses.No matter whether it is Pastor Joseph or I who committed this "No. 71 of [-]" crime, they must be punished in public and excommunicated from the church.

We got to the church.To tell you the truth, I walk past there two or three times on weekdays.It is located in a ravine between two hills, a ravine that is higher than the flat ground, and is adjacent to a swamp. The moisture of the peat in the swamp is said to have carefully anointed the several corpses stored there. Oil.The roof of the church was still intact at this time, but as the priest's income was only twenty pounds a year, plus a two-room house, and threatened that the two would soon be merged into one, no priest would take up the role of shepherd. Human responsibility comes.What's more, it was rumored that his parishioners would rather let him starve to death than take an extra penny out of their own pockets.But in my dream.Jebs had a congregation of dedicated church members.He preached - have mercy on me!What a sermon this is!Divided into 490 four parts, each quite a complete sermon from the usual pulpit, each dealing with a different sin!From where he scoured all these crimes, I have no way of knowing.He interpreted the scriptures in his own way, as if each of his brothers sinned differently.

They are some of the most grotesque crimes, grotesque crimes that I had never imagined before.

Oh how weary I am.How I stretched, yawned, dozed off, and came to my senses again!How I pinched myself, pierced myself, rubbed my eyes, got up and sat down, poked Joseph, made him tell me when this sermon really came to an end.

I was destined to hear it to the end.Finally, he talked about "No. 71 of [-]".Just at this moment, a sudden impulse seized me.I couldn't help standing up and berating Jebs Brandham for the sin no Christian would ever forgive.

"Sir," I exclaimed, "sitting among these four walls, I have endured and forgiven 490 topics of your sermon. ?? Times? Once I picked up my hat to run away—77 times? This time you forced me to sit in my seat again. 490 is too much. Fellow sufferers, beat him! Pull him down, smash him to pieces, and make this place that recognizes him no longer recognize him!" "

"You're the one!" Jebs yelled, leaning from his seat after a terrible silence. "? 7 times? times you open your mouth wide and make a funny face, 77 times 7 times I questioned my soul - NFDA1, this is a human weakness, but it is also exempt! One of the 71 is here now. Brother Let the written judgment be imposed on him, my Lord. Every one of our Lord's saints has this glory!"

At this last word, they all raised their pilgrims and rushed towards me in a swarm.I had no weapons to defend myself, and so I seized Joseph, relying on my nearest and fiercest enemy, to take his hand.In the midst of the confusion, several sticks came together; several blows aimed at me fell on someone else's head.In an instant a whole church was ringing with blows and blows, and Brandham, not resigned to spectating, poured his enthusiasm into a good deal of pounding on the pulpit.The sound was so beautiful that in the end it woke me up with an indescribable relief.

What is it that caused this chaos?Who played the role of Jebs in this turmoil?It was only a branch of a fir tree that touched my pane, and the dried berries on the branch slammed against the glass, and that caused the whistling all the way!
I listened suspiciously for a while, found out the cause of the commotion, turned over and fell asleep again.I resumed the dream, which, if it were possible to make a comparison, was even more thrilling than the previous one.

This time, I dreamed that I was lying in that oak cabinet, and I could hear the cold wind blowing snowflakes very clearly.At the same time I heard the fir-twig repeat its teasing voice again and again, knowing that it was due to the reason I have just mentioned.But it disturbed me so much that I made up my mind to make it quiet, if it were possible.I think I got up and opened the window with a lot of effort.The window hook was welded in the shackle: I had seen this form when I was awake, but I forgot.

"I've got to keep it quiet anyway!" I grumbled, punching through the glass and extending an arm to grab the annoying branch.But instead of catching the branch, my fingers touched the fingers of a small, frosty hand!

The horrors of this nightmare are truly extraordinary.I tried to draw my arm back, but the hand held on to it, and a most mournful voice sobbed:
"Let me in, let me in!"

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to free my arm as I spoke.

"Katherine Linton," answered the voice tremulously (why do I think of Linton? Twenty times I pronounce Linton as Earnshaw). "I'm home, I'm lost in the wilderness!"

As she spoke, I could vaguely make out a child's face looking out of the window.Horror overwhelmed me, and since I found I couldn't shake the thing off, I dragged her wrist to the chamfer of the broken glass and rubbed it back and forth until the blood flowed and soaked the sheet.But she was still crying, "Let me in!" She was still grabbing me so hard that I almost went crazy with fright.

"How can I let the law!" Finally I said. "Let me go if you want me to let you in!"

The fingers loosened.I withdrew my arm from the window hole, impatiently piled the books into a pyramid, pressed against the hole, and plugged my ears again, so as not to listen to the mournful prayer.

I plugged my ears for more than a quarter of an hour.However, just as I regained my hearing, I immediately heard that mournful cry, still whimpering!
"Go away!" I yelled, "I will never let you in, not even if you ask for 20 years."

"20 years," the voice cried, "20 years, I have been homeless for 20 years!"

Immediately afterwards, a slight scratching sound began to sound outside, and the pile of books also moved, as if someone was pushing.

I tried to jump up, but I couldn't move my legs at all.So I yelled, already scared out of my wits.

To my bewilderment, I realized that the shout was not what I had imagined: hurried footsteps were approaching my bedroom door.A strong hand pushed open the door, and a ray of light flickered in from the square hole on top of the bed.I sat still shaking, wiping the cold sweat from my brow.The man who broke in seemed a little hesitant, talking to himself.

Finally, he asked half in a whisper, obviously not expecting anyone to answer:

"Is there anyone in the house?"

I thought it best to admit that I was here, for I recognized Heathcliff's accent and feared that if I remained silent he would search further.

Thinking of this, I turned around and opened the wall.The effect of my pulling is something I will never forget.

Heathcliff stood at the entrance, in shirt and trousers, a candle dripping on his fingers, his face as pale as the wall behind him.When the oak panels creaked at first, he was startled as if by an electric shock, and the candle in his hand flew several feet away, and he shook so uncontrollably that he was unable to pick it up.

"It's just your guest, sir," I cried, hoping to save him some face and not expose his cowardice any further. "Unfortunately I fell asleep and screamed because I had a horrible nightmare. Sorry to bother you."

"Oh God punish you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish you were--" began my master, setting the candle on a chair, which he found impossible to hold steady.

"Huai brought you to this room?" He continued, digging his nails into the palm of his hand, grinding his teeth, trying to relieve the trembling of his palate. "Who is it? I'm going to kick them out right now!"

"It's your servant, Zira," I replied.I jumped on the ground and dressed quickly, "I don't care if you kick me out, Mr. Heathcliff, she deserves it. I think she's pledging me to prove once again that this place is haunted. Well, yes." Why, it's full of ghosts and ghosts! You have a reason to lock it up, I promise you. No one will thank you for taking a nap in a cave like this!"

"What did you say?" asked Heathcliff. "What are you doing? Now that you've come, lie down and spend the night. But, for God's sake! Don't make that dreadful thing again." Sound, no excuses, unless someone cuts your neck!"

"If that goblin comes in through the window, she'll probably strangle me!" I replied. "I don't want to suffer any more from your hospitable ancestors. Isn't the Reverend Jebs Brandham a relation of your mother's line? And that mad girl, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw , or whatever her name is, she must have been tampered with, an evil spirit! She says she's been wandering the wasteland for twenty years. She deserves it, I don't doubt it!"

Before I finished these words, I suddenly remembered that in that book, Heathcliff's name was juxtaposed with Catherine's name. I had completely forgotten the connection, and I didn't wake up until this time.I blushed for my rashness.But, pretending to be completely ignorant of my abruptness, I hurriedly said again:

"The truth is, sir, I spent the last half of the night in--" I cut off at this point--I meant to say "perusing these old books," but that would show that I knew more than what was in print. .And also know what is written in the book.So I corrected it, and went on, "The spelling was scratched on the name on the windowsill. It's a boring job. I figured I'd use it for hypnotism. It's like counting, or—"

"What do you mean by talking to me like that?" Heathcliff roared furiously, "how, how dare you, under my roof? God! He should be mad for saying that!" He tapped his forehead angrily.

I didn't know whether to complain about his rude words, or to explain.But he looked so furious that I could not help but pity me, and went on to talk to him about the dream, and tell him that I had never heard of the name "Catherine Linton" before, but from reading and reading it, An impression was born, which took human form when my imagination got out of control.

Heathcliff receded gradually into the shadow of the bed while I spoke, and sat down at last, almost concealed by it.But from his intermittent and abnormal breathing at that time, I guessed that he was trying his best to dispel his excessive violent emotions.

I didn't want to show that I heard his inner conflict, so I made a lot of noise and continued to walk around.I looked at my watch and said to myself that the night is hard to bear:

"It's not three o'clock! I could have sworn it was six o'clock. Time stands still here: we must have been at eight o'clock!"

"In winter I go to bed at nine and rise at four," said my master, suppressing a groan.From the movement of the shadow of his arm, I thought he was wiping a tear from his eyes.

"Mr. Lockwood," he added, "you can go to my room, you'll be a nuisance to come down so early, and you've sent my sleepiness to the devil by yelling like a child. gone."

"Me too," I replied. "I want to hang out in the yard till daylight, and then I'll go. You don't have to worry about my interruptions. I'm cured of the pleasure of society, whether in the country or in the city. A man of sense. , should have endless company with him.”

"Good company!" Heathcliff purred. "Take the candle and go wherever you want. I'll come to you in a minute. But don't go to the yard, the dog is unleashed. There's also the 'house', where Juno is guarding. But go! I'll be there in two minutes .”

I obeyed and he left the bedroom.Not knowing where the narrow porch led, I stopped, and overtook my landlady's superstitions, which, strange to say, belied his sane exterior.

He climbed onto the bed, opened the window, and could no longer hold back his tears.

"Come on! Come on!" he sobbed. "Cathy, really come on. Oh, really, one more time! Oh! my sweet darling! Just this one time, Catherine, one last time!"

The phantom showed all the capriciousness that phantoms are known for, and it had no shadow at all.I could only hear the wind and snow blowing wildly, even blowing to the position I occupied, blowing out the candle.

There was so much anguish in the grief that accompanied this gush of nonsense that I was so sympathetic that I forgot the stupidity of the nonsense.I stepped back, a little angry with myself, that I shouldn't have listened at all, and regretted that I had told my grotesque nightmare, which had caused the pain.Although why, I have no idea.

I walked carefully down the stairs to the back kitchen, where there was still a small fire, and they were gathered into a pile, so I relighted my candle.

There was no sound, only a gray civet cat crawled out of the ashes, and greeted me with a grudging beep.

(End of this chapter)