‘Oh!’ said he, releasing me, ‘I see that hideous little villain is not Hareton – I beg your pardon, Nell – if it be, he deserves flaying alive for not running to welcome me, and for screaming as if I were a goblin. Unnatural cub, come hither! I’ll teach thee to impose on a good-hearted, deluded father – Now, don’t you think the lad would be handsomer cropped? It makes a dog fiercer, and I love something fierce – Get me a scissors – something fierce and trim! Besides, it’s infernal affectation – devilish conceit, it is, to cherish our ears – we’re asses enough without them. Hush, child, hush! well then, it is my darling! wisht, dry thy eyes – there’s a joy; kiss me; what! it won’t? Kiss me, Hareton! Damn thee, kiss me! By God, as if I would rear such a monster! As sure as I’m living, I’ll break the brat’s neck.’
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 bannister. I cried out that he would frighten the child into fits, and ran to rescue him.
As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below; almost forgetting what he had in his hands.
‘Who is that?’ he asked, hearing some one approaching the stair’s-foot.
I leant forward, also, for the purpose of signing to Heathcliff, whose step I recognized, not to come further; 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.
There was scarcely time to experience a thrill of horror before we saw that the little wretch was safe. Heathcliff arrived underneath just at the critical moment; by a natural impulse, he arrested his descent, and setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the author of the accident.
A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket for five shillings and finds next day he has lost in the bargain five thousand pounds, could not show a blanker countenance than he did on beholding the figure of Mr Earnshaw above – It expressed, plainer than words could do, the intensest anguish at having made himself the instrument of thwarting his own revenge. Had it been dark, I dare say, he would have tried to remedy the mistake by smashing Hareton’s skull on the steps; but, we witnessed his salvation; and I was presently below with my precious charge pressed to my heart.
Hindley descended more leisurely, sobered and abashed.
‘It is your fault, Ellen,’ he said, ‘you should have kept him out of sight; you should have taken him from me! Is he injured anywhere?’
‘Injured!’ I cried angrily, ‘If he’s not killed, he’ll be an idiot! Oh! I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave to see how you use him. You’re worse than a heathen – treating your own flesh and blood in that manner!’
He attempted to touch the child, who, on finding himself with me, sobbed off his terror directly. At the first finger his father laid on him, however, he shrieked again louder than before, and struggled as if he would go into convulsions.
‘You shall not meddle with him!’ I continued, ‘He hates you – they all hate you – that’s the truth! A happy family you have; and a pretty state you’re come to!’
‘I shall come to a prettier, yet! Nelly,’ laughed the misguided man, recovering his hardness. ‘At present, convey yourself and him away – And, hark you, Heathcliff! clear you too, quite from my reach and hearing…I wouldn’t murder you tonight, unless, perhaps I set the house on fire; but that’s as my fancy goes –’
While saying this he took a pint bottle of brandy from the dresser, and poured some into a tumbler.
‘Nay don’t!’ I entreated, ‘Mr Hindley, do take warning. Have mercy on this unfortunate boy, if you care nothing for yourself!’
‘Any one will do better for him than I shall,’ he answered.
‘Have mercy on your own soul!’ I said, endeavouring to snatch the glass from his hand.
‘Not I! on the contrary, I shall have great pleasure in sending it to perdition, to punish its maker,’ exclaimed the blasphemer. ‘Here’s to its hearty damnation!’
He drank the spirits, and impatiently bade us go; terminating his command with a sequel of horrid imprecations, too bad to repeat, or remember.
‘It’s a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,’ observed Heathcliff, muttering an echo of curses back when the door was shut. ‘He’s doing his very utmost; but his constitution defies him – Mr Kenneth says he would wager his mare, that he’ll outlive any man on this side Gimmerton, and go to the grave a hoary sinner; unless some happy chance out of the common course befall him.’
I went into the kitchen and sat down to lull my little lamb to sleep. Heathcliff, as I thought, walked through to the barn. It turned out, afterwards, that he only got as far as the other side the settle, when he flung himself on a bench by the wall, removed from the fire, and remained silent.
I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song that began;
‘It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat,
The mither beneath the mools heard that,’
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, supposing she was going to say something, looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder as if she meant to speak; and she drew a breath, but it escaped in a sigh, instead of a sentence.
I resumed my song, not having forgotten her recent behaviour.
‘Where’s Heathcliff?’ she said, interrupting me.
‘About his work in the stable,’ was my answer.
He did not contradict me; perhaps, he had fallen into a doze.
There followed another long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two trickle from Catherine’s cheek to the flags.
Is she sorry for her shameful conduct? I asked myself. That will be a novelty, but she may come to the point as she will – I shan’t help her!
No, she felt small trouble regarding any subject, save her own concerns.
‘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?’ she pursued, kneeling down by me, and lifting her winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper, even when one has all the right in the world to indulge it.
‘Is it worth keeping?’ I inquired less sulkily.
‘Yes, and it worries me, and I must let it out! I want to know what I should do – Today, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I’ve given him an answer – Now, before I tell you whether it was a consent, or denial – you tell me which it ought to have been.’
‘Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?’ I replied. ‘To be sure, considering the exhibition you performed in his presence this afternoon, I might say it would be wise to refuse him – since he asked you after that, he must either be hopelessly stupid, or a venturesome fool.’
‘If you talk so, I won’t tell you any more,’ she returned, peevishly, rising to her feet. ‘I accepted him, Nelly; be quick, and say whether I was wrong!’
‘You accepted him? then, what good is it discussing the matter? You have pledged your word, and cannot retract.’
‘But,