Chapter 5 Chapter One

1801.I've just returned from a visit to my landlord - the lonely neighbor who's going to get me into trouble.What a beautiful country here!In all England, I do not believe I should have found such a place so completely cut off from the noise of the world, such a misanthrope's ideal paradise.And Heathcliff and I were such a fitting couple to share in this desolate scene.A wonderful person!As I rode up, I saw his dark eyes peering suspiciously at me from under his eyebrows.And when I announced my name.He tucked his fingers deeper into his vest pocket, with an air of complete distrust of me.All of a sudden, I had a feeling of kinship with him, but he didn't notice it at all.

"Mr. Heathcliff?" I said. The answer is a nod. "Sir, I am Lockwood, your new lodger. I have come to pay you my respects as soon as possible upon my arrival, and hope that I will not inconvenience you by insisting on Thrushcross Grange. I heard yesterday that you wished—" . "Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir," he interrupted me, dodging. "As long as I can stop it, I will never allow anyone to give me any inconvenience. Come in!" The "Come in" was said through gritted teeth, expressing the emotion, "Damn it!" Even the door against which he was leaning did not move with sympathy for the promise; I think circumstances dictated that I accept Such an invitation: I am interested in someone who seems to be even more eccentric than myself.

Seeing my horse's chest nearly touch the fence, he reached out and unchained the gate, and led me darkly up the stone path, crying when we were in the yard: "Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse. Bring me some wine." "I suppose he's the only one in his family," was the thought aroused by the double order. "No wonder the grass grows between the flagstones, and only the cows trim the hedges for them." Joseph was an old man, no, an old man--perhaps very old, though he was still strong and strong. "God bless us!" he murmured awkwardly and unhappyly to himself as he took my horse, and at the same time stared into my face so angrily that I thought kindly that he must be in need of God. To help him digest his meal, and his pious sudden cry had nothing to do with my sudden visit.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's residence. "Whistling" is a significant inland adjective for the barometric turmoil to which this place is subjected in stormy weather.Indeed, there must always be a clean air of invigorating spirits in their place.From the excessive leaning of the dwarf fir trees at the far end of the house, and the row of gaunt brambles all stretching out their branches in one direction, as if begging the sun for warmth, one could guess the force of the north wind.Fortunately, the architect had the foresight to build the house very strong: the narrow windows were deeply embedded in the wall, and the corners were protected by large protruding stones.

Before stepping into the threshold, I stopped to look at the large number of weird carvings in front of the house, especially near the main entrance. Apart from many broken monsters and shameless little boys, I also found that the "1500" era and "Hareton Earnshaw" name.I would have said a word or two, and asked the insolent host for a brief history of the place, but from the way he stood at the door, he told me to hurry in or leave, and I was visiting The interior didn't want to increase his impatience before. Without going through any passages, we went straight into the sitting room of the house: "the room," as they wisely call it.What is commonly called a house includes both the kitchen and the hall; but I think that in Wuthering Heights the kitchen was forced to retreat into another corner; and I saw no signs of cooking or roasting in the great fireplace, nor gleaming of brass and tin colanders on the walls.Instead, at one end of the room, on a great oak cabinet, were stacks of pewter plates; and silver jugs and cups were scattered, in rows, piled high up to the roof, whose light and The heat reflected brilliantly.The cupboard has never been painted; its entire construction is open to study.There is only one place, which is covered by wooden shelves filled with wheat cakes, beef and mutton legs, and ham.On the mantel-piece were a miscellaneous old ugly guns, and a pair of horse-pistols; and, for ornament, three tea-caddys, painted vulgarly, stood side by side.The floor was of smooth white stone; the chairs were of high-backed, old-fashioned construction, painted green; one or two heavy black chairs were hidden in the shadows.In an arch under the cupboard lay a very large liver-coloured bitch, surrounded by a litter of squealing puppies, and others roaming in other spaces.

It would not be surprising if the house and furniture belonged to a rustic northern farmer, with his hard-faced features and thick legs, which are easy to wear in shorts and leggings.Such a man, sitting in his armchair, with a mug of beer frothing on the round table in front of him, can always be done if you take a walk within five or six miles of these mountains at the right time after dinner. Visible.But Mr. Heathcliff and his abode, and way of life, form a curious contrast.In appearance he was like a dark gypsy, and in dress and manner he was a gentleman—that is, a gentleman like a squire: a bit slovenly, perhaps, but a sluggishness is not ugly, for he has A tall, handsome figure; and somewhat sullen.It might be suspected that he was insolent through a certain lack of breeding; but in my deepest sympathy I felt that he was not of that sort.I knew intuitively that his coldness was due to a distaste for affectation - for mutual affection.He concealed both love and hate, and he considered it rash to be loved or hated.No, I judged too soon: I gave him my attributes generously.Mr. Heathcliff may have had another reason quite different from what I had thought, for hiding his hands when he met a person whom he regarded as an acquaintance.If only my nature could be called special.My dear mother always said I would never have a comfortable home.It wasn't until last summer that I proved to myself that I really didn't deserve such a home.

While I was enjoying a month of fine weather by the sea, I suddenly met a charming person--before she noticed me, she was a real goddess in my eyes.I have never spoken of my love; but, if looks can tell, even a fool would guess that I am desperately in love with her.Then she understood what I meant, and gave me a look--the sweetest look imaginable.what should I do?I confessed it with shame—withdrawing coldly, like a snail; and the more she looked at me, the colder and farther I shrank.Till at last the poor innocent child was obliged to doubt her own feelings, and, greatly perplexed by her guess, she persuaded her mother to withdraw from the camp.Because of my eccentric manners, I have acquired a reputation of being ruthless;

How wronged, that only I can understand. I sat down on a chair by the fireside, and my landlady took one opposite.To kill the silence of this moment, I wanted to rub the bitch.He had just left the litter and was sneaking ferociously up behind my legs, grinning, his white teeth dripping.My caress made it let out a long growl from its throat. "You'd better leave the dog alone," growled Mr. Heathcliff in the same tone, stamping his foot in warning. "He's not used to being coddled—he's not kept as a toy." Then, striding up to a side door, he cried again: "Joseph!"

Joseph muttered in the depths of the cellar, but did not intend to come up.So his master went down to the cellar to find him, and I was left looking at the fierce bitch and a pair of hideous shaggy sheepdogs.The pair of dogs, together with the bitch, were wary of and watched my every move.I didn't want to deal with the canines, so I just sat still; however, thinking they wouldn't understand the silent contempt, unfortunately I winked and grimaced at the three dogs again, and a certain change in my face was so irritating When I hit Mrs. Dog, she suddenly became enraged and jumped onto my lap.I pushed it away and hastily pulled a table across for a shield.This behavior aroused public outrage; six four-legged demons of different sizes and ages rushed into the house together from the dark.I felt my heels and the hem of my coat especially were the target, and while using the tongs as effectively as possible to fend off the larger fighters, I had to cry out for help from someone in the house to restore the peace.

With restless, lolling steps, Heathcliff and his servant climbed the cellar steps: I do not think they went a second faster than usual, though the fireside was already noisy with biting and barking. Chaos.Luckily someone from the kitchen trotted up: a stocky woman with rolled up dresses, bare arms, and flaming cheeks rushed among us brandishing a frying pan--and using that weapon and her tongue quite effectively, The storm was miraculously calmed down.When her master came on stage, she was panting like a sea that was still heaving after a strong wind. "What the hell is going on?" he asked.It was unbearable that he should look at me like that, after the rude reception I had just received.

"Yeah, what the hell!" I muttered. "Sir, pigs possessed by ghosts are not as fierce as your beasts. You might as well throw a stranger to a group of tigers!" ①The herd of pigs possessed by demons—see "Bible New Testament Luke Gospel" Chapter Eight verses 31 to 33: "The demons begged Jesus not to tell them to go to the bottomless pit Go. There was a great herd of pigs eating on the mountain. The demons begged Jesus to let them go into the pigs. Jesus allowed them. Then the ghosts came out of the man and went into the pigs. So the pigs ran down the cliff and were thrown into the drowned in the lake." "They won't do much to anyone who doesn't touch them," he said, placing the bottle in front of me, and returning the table that had been removed. "Dogs are supposed to be alert. A drink?" "No, thank you." "It wasn't bitten, was it?" "If I get bitten, I'll put my mark on the biting thing." A smile appeared on Heathcliff's face. "Well, well," said he, "you're frightened, Mr. Lockwood. Here, have a drink. There are very few people in this house, so I will admit that neither I nor my dog ​​quite know what to do." How to receive guests. Sir, I wish you health!" I bowed and returned the salute; I was beginning to feel a little silly sitting there angry at a pack of dogs for their faux pas.Also, I hate having this guy tease me anymore because his interest has turned to having fun.Perhaps he had also sensed that it was folly to offend a good tenant, and in a slightly tactful tone he mentioned what he thought I would be interested in--about the advantages and disadvantages of my present lodgings.I found him to be very intelligent on the subjects we touched; and before I went home I was in such high spirits that I proposed to call again tomorrow.And he obviously didn't want me to bother him again.But, I'm still going.It was astonishing how gregarious I felt myself compared to him.