Dean raised the candle, and I saw a soft-featured face, resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples. The eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful. I did not marvel how Catherine Earnshaw forgot her first friend for such an individual. I marvelled much how he could love Catherine Earnshaw.
'A very agreeable portrait. Is it like?'
'Yes, but he looked better when he was smiled; that is his everyday countenance.'
Catherine kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons since her five-weeks' residence among them. Mr. Edgar seldom found courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had a terror of Earnshaw's reputation. Catherine was torn between Heathcliff and Linton. She behaved differently with one and with the other. I laughed at her perplexities and untold troubles, but she, so proud and independent, finally, came to me to confess: there was not a soul else that might be an adviser.
Mr. Hindley went from home one afternoon, and Heathcliff had a holiday. Heathcliff reached the age of sixteen then, I think. He did not have bad features, was not stupid. But he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness. He didn't study anything. He was trying to study with Catherine, but in vain. Finally he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness. Catherine and he were constant companions; but he ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses.
On that day he came into the house to announce his intention to do nothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathy to arrange her dress. She managed, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her brother's absence, and was then preparing to receive him.
'Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?' asked Heathcliff. 'Are you going anywhere?'
She tried to hide the truth, but it was not possible. Heathcliff asked her to stay with him and ignore those 'foolish friends of hers'.
'Look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, 'The crosses are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I've marked every day.'
'Yes – very foolish!' replied Catherine, in a peevish tone. 'And where is the sense of that?'
'To show that I take notice,' said Heathcliff.
'Must I always sit with you?' she demanded, growing more irritated. 'What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do, either!'
'You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy!' exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.
'It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,' she muttered.
Her companion rose up, but he didn't have time to express his feelings further, for young
Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight. Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out.
The contrast between their appearance and speech was like between a bleak, hilly, coal country and a beautiful fertile valley. Mr. Earnshaw gave me orders not to leave the two alone, so I refused to go. Then Catherine tried to get rid of me, and she stamped her foot, and I went away, shaken.
Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on the floor. He saw my tears and started crying himself. He sobbed out complaints against 'wicked aunt Cathy'. Cathy drew her fury on to his unlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor child waxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliver him. In an instant she turned and slapped him on his ear. The insulted visitor was going to leave, but Catherine then sobbed so dreadfully that he stayed. And, after a while, I saw the quarrel effected a closer intimacy: they forgot of friendship, and confessed themselves lovers.
Chapter IX
When Hindley arrived, I tried to conceal little Hareton, because his father might kiss him to death or to throw in the fire. But he saw me, and took the child from me.
Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all his might, and redoubled his yells when he carried him upstairs and lifted him over the banister. As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below. He almost forgot what he had in his hands.
'Who is that?' he asked, hearing the footsteps.
It was Heathcliff; and, at the instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden spring, delivered himself from the careless grasp that held him, and fell. Heathcliff arrived underneath just at the critical moment and caught the boy. But his face changed when he realized he had saved his enemy's son.
I preferred to die than give the baby in Mr. Earnshaw's hands again. He laughed and poured himself a drink. Some minutes later, I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song, when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her room, put her head in, and whispered,
'Are you alone, Nelly?'
'Yes, Miss,' I replied.
She entered and approached the hearth. I supposed she was going to say something, and looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder, she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence. I resumed my song.
'Where's Heathcliff?' she said, interrupting me.
'He is working in the stable,' was my answer.
There followed another long pause.
'Oh, dear!' she cried at last. 'I'm very unhappy!'
'A pity,' observed I. 'You're hard to please; so many friends and so few cares, and can't make yourself content!'
'Nelly, will you keep a secret for me? I want to know what I to do. Today, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed. Now was I wrong?'
'There are many things to be considered before that question can be answered properly.
It all seems smooth and good, Miss Cathy, why are you sad? Where is the obstacle?'
'Here! and here!' replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast: 'in whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I'm wrong!'
'That's very strange! I cannot understand.'
'Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?' she said, suddenly, after some minutes' reflection.
'Yes, now and then,' I answered.
'And so do I. I've dreamt that I was in Heaven. But Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth. That will explain my secret. I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven. If the wicked man here did not humiliate Heathcliff… It will degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he will never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as frost from fire.'
When this speech ended, I became sensible of Heathcliff's presence. I noticed a slight movement, turned my head, and saw him rise from the bench. He went out noiselessly. He listened. Catherine
