Wuthering Heights, Part 23 of 25

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Download the white noise deep sleep sounds app now in the Apple App Store or Google Play and get 30 days free access to all of the premium content. To redeem your free bonus, just go to deepsleepsounds.com forward slash bookshelf. That's deepsleepsounds.com forward slash bookshelf. 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. Thank you so much for coming tonight. This evening we are returning to withering heights. But first, let us take some time here to breathe and be present. Take a gentle breath in, noticing the small space that follows, that quiet pause before you exhale. And now release the breath slow and complete and notice the same stillness that comes after. Inhale once again and try to stay inside those pauses, the small spaces between the breaths where time seems to stop and everything is calm. Let yourself rest there in that soft in between where the day fades and only peace remains. Ellen tried to visit the heights to see Kathy after she was imprisoned there, but Joseph refused her entry. She heard from Zilla the housemaid that Linton died. Kathy tried to raise the alarm that Heathcliff refused to send for the doctor. After that, Kathy barely left her room until it got too cold and she had to seek heat from the fire in the kitchen. That she was rude to everyone in the house who tried to show her kindness and that Heriton still admired her despite her disgust of him. Ellen got to the end of her story and alluded that the only way to save Kathy would be for her to remarry, but how that would happen with her isolation she couldn't reckon on. Mr. Lockwood decided that as he was much recovered, he would take a ride to Wuthering Heights the following day. He found Kathy much as Ellen described, if not more provoking to Heriton. Mr. Lockwood delivered a note to Kathy from Ellen and she explained she could not write back as Heathcliff had even removed the books from the house that she might use for paper. She did find some in Heriton's room that he had stolen from her, but when he tried to return them she scorned him and he threw them in the fire. Heathcliff returned and Lockwood explained that he would be going to London and was no longer in need of the Grange, but promised to pay the rent as agreed for the year up to October. Tonight Mr. Lockwood happens in the radius of the Grange again after some time in town, so just lie back and relax as I turn to the next pages of Wuthering Heights. Chapter 32 1802 This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend in the north and on my journey to his abode I unexpectedly came within 15 miles of Gimitan. The Osler at a roadside public house was holding a pail of water to refresh my horses when a cart of very green oats newly reaped passed by and he remarked Gimitan, I repeated, my residence in that locality had already grown dim and dreamy. Oh I know, how far is it from this? I'm 14 miles over at Thills and a rough road he answered. A sudden impulse came in and I said to him, he answered. A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange. It was scarcely noon and I conceived that I might as well pass the night under my own roof as in and in. Besides I could spare a day easily to arrange matters with my landlord and thus save myself the trouble of invading the neighborhood again. Having rested a while I directed my servant to inquire the way to the village and with great fatigue to our beasts. We managed the distance in some three hours. I left him there and proceeded down the valley alone. The grey church looked grayer and the lonely churchyard lonelier. I distinguished a moor sheep cropping the short turf on the graves. It was sweet warm weather too warm for traveling but the heat did not hinder me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below. Had I seen it nearer August I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste a month among its solitude. In winter nothing more dreary. In summer nothing more divine than those glens shut in by hills and those bluff bold swells of heath. I reached the Grange before sunset and knocked for admittance but the family had retreated into the back premises I judged by the one thin blue wreath curling from the kitchen chimney and they did not hear. I rode into the court. Under the porch the girl of nine or ten sat knitting and an old woman reclined on the house stirves smoking a meditative pipe. Is Mrs. Dean with in? I demanded of the dame. Mr. Steeen? Nay. She answered. She doesn't bite, eh? She was up at the heights. Oh you the housekeeper then? I continued. Yeah, I'll keep that. She replied. Well I'm Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge me in I wonder? I wish to stay all night. To master? She cried in astonishment. But whoever knew you were coming, he sort of said word. There's not nor the dry nor mensful about it, Glace. Now there isn't. She threw down her pipe and bustled in. The girl followed and I entered too. Soon perceiving that her report was true and moreover that I had almost upset her wits by my unwelcome apparition. I bade her be composed. I would go out for a walk and meantime she must try to prepare a corner of a sitting room for me to sup in and a bedroom to sleep in. No sweeping and dusting only good fire and dry sheets were necessary. She seemed willing to do her best though she thrust the hearth brush into the greats in mistake for the poker and malappropriated several other articles of her craft. But I retired confiding in her energy for a resting place against my return. Wuthering Heights was the goal of my proposed excursion and Afterthought brought me back when I had quitted the court. All well at the Heights, I inquired of the woman. She answered scurrying away with a pan of hot cinders. I would have asked why Mrs. Dean had deserted the Grange but it was impossible to delay her at such a crisis. So I turned away and made my exit, rambling leisurely along with the glow of a sinking sun behind and the mild glory of a rising moon in front. One fading and the other brightening as I quitted the park and climbed the stony byroad branching off to Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling. Before I arrived inside of it all that remained of day was a beamless amber light along the west. But I could see every pebble on the path and every blade of grass by that splendid moon. I had neither to climb the gate nor to knock, it yielded to my hand. That is an improvement, I thought. And I noticed another. By the aid of my nostrils a fragrance of stalks and wall flowers wafted on the air from amongst the homely fruit trees. Contrary, said a voice as sweet as a silver bell, that for the third time you've done, I'm not going to tell you again. Recollector, I'll pull your hair. Contrary then, answered another in deep but softened tones. And now, kiss me, the mind in so well. No, read it over first, correctly, without a single mistake. The male speaker began to read. It was a young man, respectably dressed, and seated at a table, having a book before him. His handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek whenever its owner detected such signs of inattention. Its owner stood behind, her light shining ringlets blending at intervals with his brown blocks, as she bent to superintend his studies, and her face. It was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never have been so steady. I could, and I bit my lip in spite, that having thrown away the chance I might have had of doing something besides staring at its smiting beauty. The task was done, not free from further blunders, but the pupil claimed a reward, and received at least five kisses, which, however, he generously returned. Then they came to the door, and from their conversation I judged they were about to issue out and have a walk on the moors. I supposed I should be condemned in Hariton and Shaw's heart, if not by his mouth, to the lowest pit in the infernal regions if I showed my unfortunate person in his neighborhood then. And feeling very mean and malignant, I skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen. There was unobstructed admittance on that side also, and at the door sat my old friend, Nellie Dean, sewing and singing a song which was often interrupted from within by harsh words of scorn and intolerance, uttered in far from musical accents. I'd rath her by half, I've am swearing in me lugs from morn till neat, nor I can hear, I shiver. Said the tenant of the kitchen in answer to an unheard speech of Nellie's. It's a blazing shame that I cannot open to bless your book, but you set him up glories to satan, and all to flare some wickedness that ever were born into that world. Oh, you're right, now to ensue another, and that poor lad will be lost between you. Poor lad, he added with a groan. He's witched, I'm satan on't. Oh Lord, judge him for there's another law nor justice among were-rullers. No, we shall be sitting in flaming faggots, I suppose, retorted the singer. But wished old man, and read your bible like a Christian, and never mind me. This is Ferry Annie's wedding, the bonnet tune. It goes to a dance. Mrs. Dean was about to recommend when I advanced, and recognizing me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying, Why, oh bless you, Mr. Lockwood, how could you think of returning in this way? Oh, shut up at Thrushcross Grange, you should have given us notice. I've arranged to be accommodated there for as long as I shall stay. I answered, I depart again tomorrow. And how are you transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? Tell me that. Zilla left, and Mr. Eathcliff wished me to come, soon after you went to London and stay till you returned. But step in, pray. Have you walked from Gimmeton this evening? From the Grange, I replied. And while they make me lodging room there, I want to finish my business with your master, because I don't think of having another opportunity in a hurry. What business, sir? said Nelly, conducting me into the house. He's gone out at present and won't return soon. About the rent, I answered. Oh, then it is with Mrs. Eathcliff you must settle. She observed. Oh, rather, with me? She has not learned to manage her affairs yet, and I act for her. There's nobody else. I looked surprised. Ah, you've not heard of Eathcliff's death, I see. She continued. Eathcliff? Dead, I exclaimed, astonished. How long ago? Three months since. Oh, but sit down and let me take your hat, and I'll tell you all about it. Oh, stop. You've had nothing to eat, have you? I want nothing. I've ordered supper at home. You sit down, too. I never dreamt of his dying. Let me hear how it came to pass. You say you don't expect them back for some time. The young couple. No, I have to scold them every evening for their late rambles, but they don't care for me. At least have a drink of our old ale. It'll do you good. You seem weary. She hastened to fetch it before I could refuse, and I heard Joseph asking whether it want a crying scandal that she should have followers at her time of life, and then to get them jocks out of to Maester's cellar. He fair-sharmed to bide still and see it. She did not stay to retaliate, but re-entered in a minute, bearing a reaming silver pint, whose contents I lauded with becoming earnestness, and afterwards she furnished me with the sequel of Heathcliff's story. He had a queer end, as she expressed it. I was summoned to Wuthering Heights within a fortnight of your leaving us, she said, and I obeyed joyfully for Catherine's sake. My first interview with her grieved and shocked me. She had altered so much since our separation. Mr. Heathcliff did not explain his reasons for taking a new mind about my coming here. He only told me he wanted me, and he was tired of seeing Catherine. I must make the little parlour my sitting room and keep her with me. It was enough if he were obliged to see her once or twice a day. She seemed pleased at this arrangement and by degrees, I smuggled over a great number of books and other articles that had formed a remusement at the Grange, and flattered myself we should get on in tolerable comfort. The delusion did not last long. Catherine, contented at first in a brief space, grew irritable and restless. For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the garden, and it fretted her sadly to be confined to its narrow bounds as spring drew on. For another in following the house, I was forced to quit her frequently, and she complained of loneliness. She preferred quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen to sit in at peace in her solitude. I did not mind their skirmishes. Tarotin was often obliged to seat the kitchen also when the master wanted to have the house to himself, and though in the beginning she either left it at his approach, or quietly joined in my occupations and shunned remarking or addressing him, and though he was always as sullen and silent as possible, after a while she changed her behaviour and became incapable of letting him alone, talking at him, commenting on his stupidity and idleness, expressing her wonder how he could endure the life he lived, how he could sit a whole evening staring into the fire and dozing. He's just like a dog, is he not, Ellen? She observed once, or a cart horse. He does his work, eats his food and sleeps eternally. What a blank, dreary mind he must have. Do you ever dream, Tarotin? And if you do, what is it about? What? But you can't speak to me. Then she looked at him, but he would neither open his mouth nor look again. He's perhaps dreaming now, she continued. He twitched his shoulder as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen. Mr. Araton will ask the master to send you upstairs if you don't behave, I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder but clenched his fist as if he tempted to use it. I know why Araton never speaks when I'm in the kitchen, she exclaimed on another occasion. He's afraid I shall laugh at him. Ellen, what do you think? He began to teach himself to read once and because I laughed, he burned his books and dropped it. Was he not a fool? Were you not naughty? I said, answer me that. Perhaps I was, she went on. But I did not expect him to be so silly. Araton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try. She placed one she had been perusing on his hand. He flung it off and muttered. If she did not give over, he would break her neck. Well, I shall put it here, she said, in the table draw. And I'm going to bed. Then she whispered me to watch whether he touched it and departed. But he would not come near it. And so I informed her in the morning to her great disappointment. I saw she was sorry for his persevering, sulkingness and indolence. Her conscience reproved her for frightening him off improving himself. She had done it effectually. But her ingenuity was at work to remedy the injury. While I ironed or pursued other station re-employments as I could not well do in the parlour, she would bring some pleasant volume and read it aloud to me. When Araton was there, she generally paused at an interesting part and left the book lying about. That she did repeatedly. But he was as obstinate as a mule. And instead of snatching at her bait, in wet weather he took to smirking with Joseph. And they sat like automatons, one on each side of the fire. The elder, happily too deaf to understand her wicked nonsense, as he would have called it. The younger, doing his best to seem to disregard it. On fine evenings, the latter followed his shooting expeditions. And Catherine yawned and sighed and teased me to talk to her and ran off into the call to all the garden the moment I began. And as the last resource cried and said she was tired of living, her life was useless. Mr. Eithcliff, who grew more and more disinclined to society, had almost banished Earnshaw from his apartment. Oh, into an accident at the commencement of March, he became for some days a fixture in the kitchen. His gun burst while out on the hills by himself, a splinter cut his arm, and he lost a good deal of blood before he could reach home. The consequence was that, per force, he was condemned to the fireside and tranquility till he made it up again. It suited Catherine to have him there at any rate. It made her hate her room upstairs more than ever, and she would compel me to find out business below that she might accompany me. On Easter Monday, Joseph went to Gimit and Fair with some cattle, and in the afternoon I was busy getting up linen in the kitchen. Earnshaw sat, morose as usual, at the chimney corner, and my little mistress was beguiling an idle hour withdrawing pictures on the window panes, very inner amusement by smothered bursts of songs and whispered ejaculations and quick glances of annoyance and impatience in the direction of her cousin, who steadfastly smoked and looked into the grate. At a notice that I could do with her no longer intercepting my light, she removed to the hearthstone. I bestowed little attention on her proceedings, but presently, I heard her begin. I found out, Aritan, that I want, that I'm glad, that I should like you to be my cousin now, if you had not grown so cross to me and so rough. Aritan returned no answer. Aritan? Aritan? Aritan? Do you hear? She continued, Get off of you, he growled with uncompromising gruffness. Let me take that pipe, she said, cautiously advancing her hand and abstracting it from his mouth. Before he could attempt to recover it, it was broken and behind the fire. He swore at her and seized another. Stop! She cried, You must listen to me first, and I can't speak while those clouds are floating in my face. Will you go to devil? He exclaimed ferociously, and let me be. No, she persisted. I won't. I can't tell what to do to make you talk to me, and when you are determined not to understand. When I call you stupid, I don't mean anything. I don't mean that I despise you. Come, you shall take notice of me, Aritan. You are my cousin, and you shall own me. I shall have not to do with you and your mucky pride, and your damn mocking tricks. He answered, I'll go to El, body and soul before I look sideways after you again. Sadat at gate now, this minute. Catherine frowned and retreated to the window seat, chewing her lip, and endeavouring by humming an eccentric tune to conceal a growing tendency to sob. You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Aritan, I interrupted, since she repents of her sourciness. Would do you a great deal of good, it would make you another man to have her for a companion. A companion? He cried. When she hates me, and does not think we fit to wipe her shown, nay. If it made me a king, I'd not be scorned for seeking her for good will any more. It is not I who hate you. It is you who hate me. Wept, Catherine, no longer disguised in her trouble. You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff does, and more. You're a dumb liar, began Aran Show. Why have I made him angry by taking your part then a hundred times? And that when you sneered at and despised me and go on plaguing me, and I'll step in yonder and say you wore me out of the kitchen. I didn't know you took my part, she answered, dry in her eyes. And I was miserable and bitter at everybody. But now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me. What can I do besides? She returned to the hearth and frankly extended her hand. He blackened and scowled like a thunder cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have divined it was an obdurate perversity, and not dislike that prompted this dogged conduct. For, after remaining an instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle kiss. The little rogue thought I had not seen her, and drawing back, she took her former station by the window, quite demurely. I shook my head reprievingly, and she blushed and whispered, Well, what should I have done, Ellen? He wouldn't shake hands, and he wouldn't look. I must show him some way that I like him, that I want to be friends. Whether the kiss convinced Aritan, I cannot tell. He was very careful for some minutes, that his face should not be seen. And when he did raise it, he was sadly puzzled where to turn his eyes. Catherine employed herself in wrapping a handsome book neatly in white paper, and having it tied with a bit of ribbon, and addressed it to Mr. Harriet Nernshaw. She desired me to be her ambassador, and convey the present to its destined recipient. And tell him if he'll take it, I'll come and teach him to read it right. She said, And if he refuse it, I'll go upstairs and never tease him again. I carried it, and repeated the message, anxiously watched by my employer. Aritan would not open his fingers, so I laid it on his knee. He did not strike it off, either. I returned to my work. Catherine leaned her head and arms on the table, till she heard the slight rustle of the covering being removed. Then she sturled away, and quietly seated herself beside her cousin. He trembled, and his face glowed. All his rudeness, and all his surly arsoness, had deserted him. He could not summon courage at first to utter a syllable, in reply to her questioning look, and her murmured petition. Say you forgive me, Aritan, do. You can make me so happy by speaking that little word. He muttered something inaudible. And you'll be my friend? Added Catherine, in terror of the No, you'll be ashamed of me every day of your life. He answered, and the more ashamed the more you know me, and I cannot bide it. So you won't be my friend? No, I will not. I will not be your friend. I will not be your friend. I will not be your friend. I will not be your friend. I will not be your friend. I will not be your friend. So you won't be my friend? She said, smiling as sweet as honey, and creeping close up. I overheard no further distinguishable talk, but on looking round again I perceived two such radiant countenances bent over the page of the accepted book. But I did not doubt the treaty had been ratified on both sides, and the enemies were, thenceforth, sworn allies. The work they studied was full of costly pictures, and those in their position had charm enough to keep them unmoved till Joseph came home. He, poor man, was perfectly aghast at the spectacle of Catherine, seated on the same bench with Aritan Earnshaw, with his hand on his shoulder, and confounded at his favourite's endurance of her proximity. It affected him too deeply to allow an observation on the subject that night. His immersion was only revealed by the immense size he drew, as his solemnly spread his large bible on the table, and overlaid it with dirty banknotes from his pocketbook, the produce of the day's transactions. At length he summoned Aritan from his seat. Take these into my cellar, he said, and, by the there, my eyes gang up to my own realm. This oil's neither minceful nor seemly for us. Come unside out and search another. Come Catherine, I said. We must side out too. I've done my ironing. Are you ready to go? It is not eight o'clock. She answered, rising unwillingly. Harrison, I'll leave this book upon the chimneypiece, and I'll bring some more tomorrow. When it bucks you early, you shall tack into it thus. Said Joseph. It'll be a mitch if you find him again, so you may please yourself. Cathy threatened that his library should pay for hers, and smiling as she passed Aritan went, singing upstairs. Lighter of art, I venture to say, than ever she had been under that roof before, except perhaps during her earliest visits to Linton. The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly, though it encountered temporary interruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher and no paragon of patience, but both their minds tending to the same point, one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed. They contrived in the end to reach it. You see, Mr Lockwood, it was easy enough to win Mrs Eathcliff's heart. But now, I'm glad you did not try. The crown of all my wishes will be the union of those two. I shall envy no one on their wedding day. There won't be an happier woman than myself in England.