Wuthering Heights (1847)

Chapter XXXII

Both doors and lattices were open; and yet, as is usually the case in a coal-district, a fine red fire illumined the chimney: the comfort which the eye derives from it renders the extra heat endurable.  But the house of Wuthering Heights is so large that the inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing out of its influence; and accordingly what inmates there were had stationed themselves not far from one of the windows.  I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered, and looked and listened in consequence; being moved thereto by a mingled sense of curiosity and envy, that grew as I lingered.

‘Con-trary!’ said a voice as sweet as a silver bell.  ‘That for the third time, you dunce!  I’m not going to tell you again. Recollect, or I’ll pull your hair!’

‘Contrary, then,’ answered another, in deep but softened tones. ‘And now, kiss me, for minding so well.’

‘No, read it over first correctly, without a single mistake.’

The male speaker began to read: he 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 looks, 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, at 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 Hareton Earnshaw’s heart, if not by his mouth, to the lowest pit in the infernal regions if I showed my unfortunate person in his neighbourhood 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 Nelly 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 rayther, by th’ haulf, hev’ ’em swearing i’ my lugs fro’h morn to neeght, nor hearken ye hahsiver!’ said the tenant of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly’s.  ‘It’s a blazing shame, that I cannot oppen t’ blessed Book, but yah set up them glories to sattan, and all t’ flaysome wickednesses that iver were born into th’ warld!  Oh! ye’re a raight nowt; and shoo’s another; and that poor lad ’ll be lost atween ye.  Poor lad!’ he added, with a groan; ‘he’s witched: I’m sartin on’t.  Oh, Lord, judge ’em, for there’s norther law nor justice among wer rullers!’

‘No! or we should be sitting in flaming fagots, I suppose,’ retorted the singer.  ‘But wisht, old man, and read your Bible like a Christian, and never mind me.  This is “Fairy Annie’s Wedding”—a bonny tune—it goes to a dance.’

Mrs. Dean was about to recommence, when I advanced; and recognising me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying—‘Why, bless you, Mr. Lockwood!  How could you think of returning in this way?  All’s 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 to-morrow.  And how are you transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? tell me that.’

‘Zillah left, and Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you went to London, and stay till you returned.  But, step in, pray! Have you walked from Gimmerton this evening?’