Wuthering Heights, Part 22 of 25

Thanks for listening to the Sleepy Bookshelf tonight. You make this show possible. If you like so many, would like to support us, then check out our premium feed, where you'll get ad-free access to the entire catalogue, plus exclusive episodes in between our longer books. There's a link to learn more in the show notes. There's a world of opportunity out there, beyond the typical nine to five, where purpose and grit and the American spirit come together, in the Peace Corps. It's been called the toughest job you'll ever love. Tough because it asks so much of you. And the love part? Knowing your hard work can transform lives and build bridges across cultures. After 65 years, the Peace Corps is still the toughest job you'll ever love. Explore opportunities in more than 60 countries and apply at peacecore.gov forward slash serve. Hello, it's Elizabeth. And I'm excited to share with you the newest show from Slumber Studios. It's called Sleepy History, and it's exactly what it sounds like. Intriguing stories, people, mysteries and events from history, delivered in a supremely calming atmosphere. Explore the legend of El Dorado. See what life was like for the Roman gladiators. Uncover the myths and mysteries of Stonehenge. You'll find interesting but relaxing episodes like these on Sleepy History and the same great production quality you've come to know and love from the Sleepy Bookshelf. So check it out. And perhaps you'll have another way to get a good night's rest. Just search Sleepy History in your preferred podcast player. Good evening, and welcome to the Sleepy Bookshelf, where we put down our worries from the day and pick up a good book. I'm your host, Elizabeth. It is so wonderful to be reading to you tonight. This evening we are returning to withering heights. But before we do, take a moment here to be grounded. Breathe in through your nose, and feel your ribs expand. Your back pressing lightly into the bed, and exhale, imagining the very air beneath you, solid and steady. Focus on the air on your skin, the warmth of the covers, the gentle pulse of your heartbeat inside you. Let each breath anchor you deeply in the now. Your breath, your heartbeat, this quiet moment that belongs only to you. When Ellen was released from withering heights, she tried to take Kathy with her, who had been locked in Linton's chambers. But the key was hidden, and Linton would not tell her where. She ran back to the Grange in time to see her master still alive, and promised she would get Kathy home to him soon. He instructed her to call for the lawyer, to ensure his will would be changed, to put Kathy's money into a trust. Ellen sent one messenger to Gimmeton for the solicitor, and some men to the heights to rescue Kathy. But they returned empty-handed, with the excuse that Kathy was too ill to come out of her room. Then that night, a knock at the door revealed Kathy herself, escaped from withering heights. She had convinced Linton to let her go, and climbed out of a window and down a tree, to see her father, who died the very next morning, before the solicitor could arrive. It appeared he had been tied up by a suspiciously pressing matter at withering heights, and so the will remained intact, and all the staff but Ellen would dismissed immediately. When Heath Clef sauntered into the Grange without knocking, and demanded that Kathy return with him, he informed Ellen that he intended to find a lodger for the Grange, and that she was never to visit withering heights again. Kathy gathered her things, and gave Ellen a reluctant goodbye, before walking back over the moors with her father-in-law. Tonight we pick up with Ellen, explaining what happened when she did try to visit Kathy. So, just lie back and relax, as I turn to the next pages of withering heights. Chapter 30 I have paid a visit to the heights, but have not seen her since she left. Joseph held the door in his hand when I called to ask for her, and wouldn't let me pass. He said Mrs. Linton was thrang, and the master was not in. Zilla has told me something of the way they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was dead and who would live in. She thinks Catherine, haughty, and does not like her. I can guess by her talk. My young lady asked some aid of her when she first came, but Mr. Heathcliff told her to follow her own business, and let his daughter-in-law look after herself. And Zilla, willingly acquiesced, being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherine evinced a child's annoyance at this neglect, repaid it with contempt, and thus enlisted my informant among her enemies, as securely as if she had done her some great wrong. I had a long talk with Zilla about six weeks ago, a little before you came, one day when we had four gathered on the moor, and this is what she told me. The first thing Mrs. Linton did, she said, on her arrival at the heights, was to run upstairs without even wishing good evening to me and Joseph, and she shut herself into Linton's room and remained till morning. Then, while the master and urn show were at breakfast, she said, she was not in. The doctor might be sent for. Her cousin was very ill. We know all that. Answered Heathcliff. But his life is not worth of farthing, as he was a young lady. He was a young lady, and he was a young lady. He was a young lady, and he was a young lady. He was a young lady, and he was a young lady. I will answer Heathcliff. But his life is not worth of farthing, and I won't spend a farthing on him. But I cannot tell how to do, she said. And if nobody will help me, he'll die. Walk out of the room, cried the master, and let me never hear a word more about him. Don't hear care what becomes of him, if you do, act the nurse. If you do not, lock him up and leave him. Well then she began to bother me, and I said I'd have enough plague with the tiresome thing. We each had our tasks, and hers was to wait on Linton. Mr. Heathcliff bid me leave that labour to her. How they managed together, I can't tell. I fancy Fred did a great deal, and Mearn didn't sell all night and day. And she had precious little rest. One could guess by her white face and heavy eyes. She sometimes came into the kitchen all wilded like, and looked as if she would feign beg assistance. But I was not going to disobey the master. I never dared disobey a missus Dean. And though I thought it wrong that Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of mine either to advise or complain. And I always refused to meddle. Once or twice, after we'd gone to bed, I happened to open my door again and see her sitting, crying on the stairs top. And then I've shut myself in quick for fear of being moved to interfere. I did pittier then, I'm sure. Still, I didn't wish to lose my place, you know. At last, one night she came, boldly into my chamber, and frightened me. I felt my wits by saying, tell Mr. Heathcliff that his son is dying. I'm sure he is this time. Get up instantly and tell him. Having uttered this speech, she vanished again. I lay a quarter of an hour listening, trembling. Nothing stirred. The house was quiet. Oh, she's mistaken, I said to myself. He's got over it, and he didn't disturb him. And I began to doze. My sleep was marred a second time by a sharp ringing of the bell, only bell we have, put up on purpose for Linton. And the master called to me to see what was the matter, and informed them he wouldn't have that noise repeated. I delivered Catherine's message, or he cursed to himself. A few minutes came out with a lighted candle, and proceeded to their room. I followed. Mrs. Heathcliff was seated by the bedside, with her hands folded on her knees. A father-in-law went up, held the light to Linton's face, looked at him, touched him. Afterwards, he turned to her. Now Catherine, he said, How do you feel? She was dumb. How do you feel, Catherine? He repeated. He's safe. And I'm free. She answered. I should feel well, but she continued, with a bit in her she couldn't conceal. You have left me so long to struggle against death alone that I feel, and see only death. I feel like death. And she looked like it too. I gave her a little wine. Araton and Joseph, who had been woken by the ringing and the sound of feet, and heard our talk from outside, now entered. Joseph was fair, and I believe, of the lad's removal. Araton seemed a thought-bothered, though he was more taken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of Linton. But the master bid him get off to bed again. We didn't want his help. He made Joseph remove the body from his chamber, and told me to return to mine. And Mrs. Eithcliff remained by herself. In the morning he sent me to tell her she must come down to breakfast. She'd undressed and appeared going to sleep, and said she was ill, which I hardly wondered. I'm formed, Mr. Eithcliff, and he replied. Well, let her be till after the funeral, and go up now and then to get her what is needful. And as soon as she seems better, tell me. Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, cordoned to Zilla. You visited her twice a day, and would have been rather more friendly, but her attempts at increasing kindness were proudly. And promptly repelled. Eithcliff went up once to show her Linton's will. He had bequeathed the whole of his and what had been her movable property to his father. The poor creature was threatened, or coaxed into that act during her weeks absence when his uncle died. The lands, being a minor he could not meddle with. However, Mr. Eithcliff has claimed and kept them in his wife's right, and he's also, I suppose, legally at any rate. Catherine, destitute of cash and friends, cannot disturb his possession. Nobody, said Zilla. Effet approached her door except that once, but I. And nobody asked anything about her. The first occasion of her coming down into the house was on a Sunday afternoon. She had cried out when I carried up her dinner. She couldn't bear any longer being in the cold. I told her the master was going to Thrushcross Grange, and her and Shor and I needn't hinder her from descending. So soon as she heard Eithcliff's horse trot off, she made her appearance, donned in black, and her yellow curls curmed behind their ears as plain as a quaker. She couldn't cerm them out. Joseph and I generally go to the chapel on Sundays. The Kirk you know has no minister now, explained Mrs. Dean, and they called the Methodists or Baptists place. I can't say which it is at Gimmeton, at a chapel. Joseph had gone, she continued. But I thought it proper to bide at home. Young folks are always the better for an elder's overlooking. An aritan with all his bashfulness isn't a model of nice behaviour. I let him know that his cousin would very likely sit with us, and she had been always used to see the Sabbath respected. So he had us good leave his guns and bits of indoor work alone while she stayed. He coloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands and clothes. The train oil and gunpowder were shoved out of sight in a minute. I saw we meant to give Eira's company, and a guest by his way wanted to be presentable. So laughing as I durst not laugh when the master is by, I offered to help him, if he would, and jerked at his confusion. I grew sullen and began to swear. Now Mrs. Dean, Zilla went on, seeing me not pleased by her manner. You happen to think you're young, Lady Too-Fine for Mr. Aritan, and happen you're right. But I own, I should love well to bring her pride up, beg-lower. And what will all her learning and daintyness do for her now? She's as poor as you are I. Poor her, I'll be bound. You're saving, and I'm doing my little all that road. Aritan allowed Zilla to give him her aid, and she flattered him into a good humour. So when Catherine came, half forgetting her former insults, he tried to make himself agreeable by the housekeeper's account. Mrs. walked in, she said, as chill as an icicle, and as high as a princess. I got up, and offered her my seat in the armchair. Oh no, she turned up her nose at my civility. And she rose too, and bid her come to the settle and sit close by the fire. He was sure she was starved. I've been starved a month or more. She answered, resting on the word as scornful as she could. And she got a chair for herself, and placed it a distance from his birth. Having sat till she was warm, she began to look round, and discovered a number of books on the dresser. She was instantly upon her feet again, stretching to read them, but they were too high up. A cousin, after watching her endeavours a while, at last summoned courage to help her. She held her frock, and he filled it with the first that came to end. That was a great advance for the lad. She didn't thank him, still he felt gratified that she had accepted his assistance, and ventured to stand behind as she examined them, and even to stoop and point out what struck his fancy in certain old pictures which they contained. Nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked the page from his finger. He contented himself with going back a bit farther, and looking at her instead of the book. She continued reading, or seeking something to read. His attention became by degrees, quite centred in the study of her thick, silky curls. Her face he couldn't see, and she couldn't see him. And perhaps not quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle. At last he proceeded from staring to touching, put out his hand and stroked one curl, as gently as if it were a bird. We might have stuck a candle into her neck she started rounding such a take-in. Get away this moment! How dare you touch me! Why are you stopping there? She cried in a turn of disgust. I can't endure you. I'll go upstairs again if you come near me. Mr. Arrotton recoiled, looking as foolish as he could do. He sat down in the settle very quiet, and she continued turning over her volumes another half hour. Finally, Bernshaw crossed over and whispered to me, Will you ask her to read to us, illa? I'm stalled at doing notes, and I do like. I could like to hear her. Do not say I wanted it, but ask of you so. Mr. Arrotton wishes you would read to us, ma'am. I said immediately. It'd take it very kind. It'd be much obliged. She frowned and looking up answered. Mr. Arrotton and the whole set of you will be good enough to understand that I reject any pretense at kindness you have the hypocrisy to offer. I despise you, and will have nothing to say to any of you. When I would have given my life for one kind word, even to see one of your faces you all kept off. But I won't complain to you. I'm driven down here by the cold, not either to amuse you or enjoy your society. What could I have done? began Arrotton's show. I was out of blame. Oh, you were an exception. answered Mrs. Eathcliff. I never missed such a concern as you. But I offered more than once, and asked. He said, kindling up at her pertness. I asked Mr. Eathcliff to let me work for you. Be silent, or I'll go out of doors, or anywhere, rather than have your disagreeable voice in my ear. Said my lady. Arrotton muttered that she might go to hell for him, and unslinging his gun restrained himself from his Sunday occupations no longer. He talked now, freely enough, and she presently saw fit to retreat to her solitude. But the frost had set in, and in spite of her pride she was forced to condescend to our company more and more. However, I took care that there should be no further scorn in at my good nature. Ever since I've been as stiff as a self, and she has no love for all like her among us, and she does not deserve one. For let them say the least word to her, and she'll curl back without any respect of anyone. She'll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him to thrash her, and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows. At first, on hearing this account from Zilla, I determined to leave my situation, take a cottage, and get Catherine to come and live with me. But Mr. Eathcliff would assume permit that as he would set up Arrotton in an independent house. And I can see no remedy at present, unless she could marry again, and that scheme it does not come within my province to arrange. Thus ended Mrs. Dean's story. Notwithstanding the doctor's prophecy, I am rapidly recovering strength. And though it be only the second week in January, I propose getting out on horseback in a day or two, and riding over to Wuthering Heights to inform my landlord that I shall spend the next six months in London. And, if he likes, he may look out for another tenant to take the place after October. I would not pass another winter here for much. Chapter 31 Yesterday was bright, calm, and frosty. I went to the Heights as I proposed. My housekeeper entreated me to bear a little note from her to her young lady. And I did not refuse, for the worthy woman was not conscious of anything odd in her request. The front door stood open, but the jealous gate was fastened, as at my last visit. I knocked and invoked Earnshaw from among the garden beds. He unchained it, and I entered. The fellow is as handsome and rustic as need be seen. I took particular notice of him this time. But then he does his best, apparently, to make the least of his advantages. I asked if Mr Heathcliff were at home. He answered, no, but he would be in it dinnertime. It was eleven o'clock, and I announced my intention of going in and waiting for him, at which he immediately flung down his tools and accompanied me, in the office of Watchdog, not as a substitute for the host. We entered together. Catherine was there making herself useful in preparing some vegetables for the approaching meal. She looked more sulky and less spirited than when I had seen her first. She hardly raised her eyes to notice me, and continued her employment with the same disregard to common forms of politeness as before, never returning my bow and good morning by the slightest acknowledgement. It does not seem so amiable, I thought, as Mrs Dean would persuade me to believe. She's a beauty, it is true, but not an angel. Ensure, surly bid her remove her things to the kitchen. Remove them yourself, she said, pushing them from her as soon as she had done, and retiring to a stool by the window, where she began to carve figures of birds and beasts out of the turnip pairings in her lap. I approached her, pretending to desire a view of the garden, and, as I fancied, a dwutly dropped Mrs Dean's note onto her knee, unnoticed by Harrison. But she asked aloud, What is that? And chucked it off. A letter from your old acquaintance, the housekeeper at the Grange, I answered, annoyed at her exposing my kind deed and fearful, lest it should be imagined a misive of my own. She would gladly have gathered it up with this information, but Hariton beat her. He seized and put it in his waistcoat, saying Mr Heathcliff should look at it first. There at, Catherine silently turned her face from us and very stealthily drew out her pocket handkerchief and applied it to her eyes. And her cousin, after struggling a while to keep down his softer feelings, pulled out the letter and flung it on the floor beside her as ungraciously as he could. Catherine called and perused it eagerly. Then she put a few questions to me concerning the inmates' rational and irrational of her former home, engaging towards the hills, murmured in sililliquy. I should like to be riding Mini down there. I should like to be climbing up there. Oh, I'm tired. I'm stalled, Hariton. And she lent her pretty head back against the sill with a half yawn and a half a sigh and collapsed into an aspect of abstract sadness, neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her. Mr Heathcliff, I said after sitting some time, mute, you are not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours, so intimate that I think it's strange you won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper never worries of talking and praising you. She'll be greatly disappointed if I return with no news of or from you except that you received her letter and said nothing. She appeared to wonder at this speech and asked, Does Ellen like you? Yes, very well, I replied, hesitatingly. You must tell her, she continued, that I would answer her letter but I have no materials for writing, not even a book from which I might tear a leaf. No books, I exclaimed. How do you couldn't drive to live here without them? If I may take the liberty to inquire, though provided with a large library, I'm frequently very dull at the grange. Take my books away and I should be desperate. I was always reading when I had them, said Catherine. And Mr Heathcliff never reads, so he took it into his head to destroy my books. I've not had a glimpse of one for weeks. Only once I searched through Joseph's store of theology to his great irritation and wants. Heroton, I came upon a secret stock in your room. Some Latin and Greek, some tales and poetry. All old friends. I brought the last here and you gathered them as a magpie gathers silver spoons for the mere love of stealing. They are no use to you, or else you can seal them in the bad spirit that as you cannot enjoy them, nobody else shall. Perhaps you're envy counseled Mr Heathcliff to rob me of my treasures. But I've most of them written on my brain and printed in my heart. And you cannot deprive me of those. Ernst-Shall blushed crimson when his cousin made this revelation of his private literary accumulations and stammered an indignant denial of her accusations. Mr. Heroton is deserous of increasing his amount of knowledge. I said coming to his rescue. He's not envious, but emulous of your attainments. He'll be a clever scholar in a few years. And he wants me to sink into a dunce meantime. Answered Catherine. Yes, I hear him trying to spell and read to himself. And pretty blunders he makes. I wish he would repeat Chevy Chase as you did yesterday. It was extremely funny. I heard you. And I heard you turning over the dictionary to seek out the hard words and then cursing because you couldn't read their explanations. The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for his ignorance and then laughed out for trying to remove it. I had a similar notion. And remembering Mrs. Dean's anecdote of his first attempt at enlightening the darkness in which he had been reared, I observed, but Mrs. Heathcliff, we have each had a commencement and each stumbled and tottered on the threshold. At our teachers scorned instead of aiding us, we should stumble and totter yet. Oh, she replied, I don't wish to limit his acquirements. Still, he has no right to appropriate what is mine and make it ridiculous to me with his vile mistakes and mispronunciations. Those books, both prose and verse, are consecrated to me by other associations and I hate to have them debased and profaned in his mouth. Besides, of all, he has selected my favorite pieces that I love the most to repeat as they've had a deliberate malice. Aritan's chest heaved in silence a minute. He labored under a severe sense of mortification and wrath, which it was no easy task to suppress. I rose and, from a gentlemanly idea of relieving his embarrassment, took up my station in the doorway, surveying the external prospect as I stood. He followed my example and left the room, but presently reappeared, bearing half a dozen volumes in his hands which he threw into Catherine's lap, exclaiming, Take them! I never want to hear or read or think of them again. I won't have them now, she answered. I shall connect them with you and hate them. She opened one that had obviously been often turned over and read a portion in the drawing tone of a beginner, then laughed and threw it from her. And listen! She continued provokingly, commencing a verse of an old ballad in the same fashion, that his self-love would endure no further torment. I heard, and not altogether disapprovingly, a manual check given to her saucy tongue. The little wretch had done her utmost to hurt her cousin's sensitive, though uncultivated, feelings, and a physical argument was the only mode he had of balancing the account and repaying its effects on the inflictor. He afterwards gathered the books and held them on the fire. I read in his countenance what anguish it was to offer that sacrifice to Spleen. I fancied that as they consumed, he recalled the pleasure they had already imparted and the triumph and ever-increasing pleasure he had anticipated from them. And I fancied, I guess, enticement to his secret studies also. He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn and hope of her approval were his first prompters to higher pursuits. And instead of guarding him from one and winning him to the other, his endeavours to raise himself had procured just the contrary result. Yes, that's all the good that's such a brute as you can get from them. Cried Catherine, sucking her damaged lip and watching the conflagration within Dignan's eyes. You better hold your tongue now, he answered fiercely. And his agitation precluded further speech. He advanced, hastily to the entrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed the doorstones, Mr Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered him and laying cold of his shoulder, asked, What's to do now, my lad? Not, not, he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and anger in solitude. Heathcliff gazed after him and sighed, It would be odd if I thwarted myself. He muttered, unconscious that I was behind him. But when I look for his father in his face, I find her every day more. How the devil is he so like? I can hardly better see him. He bent his eyes to the ground and walked amudily in. There was a restless, anxious expression in his countenance. I'd never remarked there before. And he looked spare in person. His daughter-in-law, on perceiving him through the window, immediately escaped to the kitchen, so that I remained alone. I'm glad to see you out of doors again, Mr Lockwood. He said in reply to my greeting. From selfish motives, part me. I do not think I could readily supply your loss in this desolation. I've wandered more than once what brought you here. An idle whim, my fesser, was my answer. Or else an idle whim is going to spirit me away. I shall set out for London next week, and I must give you warning that I feel no disposition to retain Thrush Cross Grange beyond the twelve months I agreed to rent it. I believe I shall not live there anymore. Hmm, indeed. You are tired of being banished from the world, are you? He said. But if you be coming to plead off paying for a place you won't occupy, your journey is useless. I never relent in exacting my due from anyone. I'm coming to plead off nothing about it. I exclaimed, considerably irritated. Should you wish it, I'll settle with you now. And I withdrew my notebook from my pocket. No, no. He replied, coolly. You'll leave sufficient behind to cover your debts if you fail to return. I'm not in such a hurry. Sit down, take your dinner with us. A guest that is safe from repeating his visit can generally be made welcome. Catherine, bring the things in. Where are you? Catherine reappeared, bearing a tray of knives and forks. You may get your dinner with Joseph, muttered Heathcliff aside, and remain in the kitchen till he is gone. She obeyed his directions very punctually. Perhaps she had no temptation to transgress, living among clowns and misanthropists. She probably cannot appreciate a better class of people when she meets them. Mr. Heathcliff grim and sat an eye on one hand, and Hariton absolutely dumb on the other. I made a somewhat cheerless meal and bated you early. I would have departed by the back way to get a last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old Joseph, but Hariton received orders to lead up my horse, and my host himself escorted me to the door so I could not fulfil my wish. How dreary life gets over in that house, I reflected, while riding down the road. What a realisation of something more romantic than a fairy tale it would have been for Mrs. Linton Heathcliff. Had she and I struck up an attachment, as her good nurse desired, and migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of the town.