Chapter 9 chapter Five

As the day wore on, Mr. Earnshaw began to fail.He was otherwise active and healthy, but suddenly his energy drained from him.When he was confined to the corner of the fireplace, he became sadly irascible.Little things annoyed him, and he was almost mad with rage at the suspicion that his prestige had been undermined.Earnshaw was especially indignant if any attempt was made to embarrass or oppress his favorite; and he was agonized with suspicion, lest anyone say a wrong word to him.It seemed to be in his mind that because he liked Heathcliff, everyone hated him and wanted to plot against him.It wasn't good for the boy, because the kinder of us don't want to offend our master, so we cater to his preferences.That kind of accommodation can greatly breed the child's pride and eccentricity.But it has to be like this.Two or three times, Hindley showed contempt for the boy in his father's presence, so that the old man was so indignant that he seized his cane to strike Hindley, but could only tremble with rage because he could not hit him.

At length our curate (we had then two curates, and lived by teaching the little children of the Lintons and Earnshaws, and farming a plot of our own), suggested that the young man should be sent to college. went.Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though in a bad mood, for he said that "Hindley is no good, and will never make it wherever he swings." I sincerely hope that we are safe now.I feel sad when I think of the master doing a good deed by himself, but making it awkward.I guess that his unhappiness and sickness in his later years were all due to family discord.In fact, he thought so himself: really, sir, you know that's the heart of this aging skeleton.In fact, if it weren't for two people, Miss Kitty and the servant Joseph, we could still make do.I bet you saw him over there.He was, and probably still is, one of the most annoying, self-righteous Pharisees who attribute all his gifts to himself and cast all his curses on his neighbors.Joseph tried to make a good impression on Mr. Earnshaw, by his flattery and pious preaching.The weaker the master, the greater his power.He tormented his master mercilessly, talking about his soul, and how strict he was with his children.He encouraged his master to regard Hindley as a depraved person, and often made up incidents every night to complain about Heathcliff and Catherine, always remembering to put the heaviest fault on the latter, in order to cater to Grace. Shaw's weakness.

Catherine, of course, had a queer temper which I had never seen in any other child.She can make us all lose our patience more than fifty times a day, and from the time she comes down the stairs to the time she goes to bed she is always naughty and disturbs us not for a single minute of peace.She was always in high spirits, with her tongue moving--singing, laughing, nagging anyone who didn't agree with her, a wild and wicked little girl.But she had the prettiest eyes, the sweetest smile, and the lightest step in the parish.Having said that, I believe she has no malice, because once she really makes you cry, she seldom does not cry with you, and makes you have to calm down to comfort her.She likes Heathcliff very much.If we really wanted to punish her, the worst thing we could do was to separate them, but for him she got scolded more than we did.When playing, she especially likes to be a little housewife, doing this and that willfully, and giving orders to her companions.She does that to me too, but I can't stand being a chore and being dictated to, so I tell her to understand.

Mr. Earnshaw, however, did not understand the children's laughter.He was always stern and dignified when they were together.For her part Catherine could not understand why her father was more irritable and less patient in his weakness than in his prime.His petulant rebuke instead aroused her desire to be amused, deliberately to irritate her father.She was happiest when we scolded her together, and she put on a bold, impertinent air, and confronted us with clever words.She made jokes about Joseph's religious curses, played tricks on me, and did what her father hated most--showing how her pretended (and he believed it) arrogance was better for Heathcliff than his kindness. Powerful; showing off how she can make this boy obey her, and only obey his orders when it suits her.After all the bad things she did all day, sometimes at night she would act like a baby and try to make up. "No, Kitty," said the old man, "I can't love you. You're worse than your brother. Go and pray, child, and ask God to forgive you. I think your mother and I will regret having you!" ’ This made her weep at first, but then her heart was hardened by frequent reprimands.If I told her to say she was ashamed of her mistakes and asked her father to forgive her, she laughed instead.

But the time had finally come for Mr. Earnshaw to put an end to his earthly troubles.He died peacefully in his fireside chair one October evening.The wind roared around the house and roared in the chimneys, sounding violent and violent, but it was not cold.We were all together—I was at a distance from the fire, busy knitting, and Joseph was reading his Bible at the table (for the servants used to sit in those days when they were done).Miss Kitty was ill, and that quieted her.She leaned against her father's knee, and Heathcliff lay on the floor with his head on her lap.I remember my master stroking her beautiful hair before he fell asleep--it was a rare pleasure to see her so docile--and saying:

"Why can't you always be a good girl, Katie?" Dee went to kiss his hand and said she would sing a song to put him to sleep.She began to sing in a low voice until her father's fingers slipped from her hands and his head fell on his chest.At this time I told her to keep quiet and not move, lest she wake him up.We were as silent as mice for a full half hour.Could have stayed longer, except that Joseph finished the chapter and got up and said he must wake the master to say his prayers and go to bed.He went up, called his master, and touched him on the shoulder, but he did not move, so he looked at him with a candle.When he put down the candle, I felt something was wrong.He took one of the boys by the arm and whispered to them to go upstairs and be quiet--they could pray by themselves that night--he had work to do.

"I want to say good night to father first," Catherine said.Before we could stop her, she stretched out her arms and wrapped them around his neck.The poor thing saw her loss at once, and screamed, "Oh, he's dead, Heathcliff! He's dead!" and they both broke into a heart-rending cry. I wailed with them too, loud and miserable.But Josephus tells us what it means to roar like this at an ascended saint.He told me to put on my coat, and hastened to Gimmerton for the doctor and priest.I couldn't see at the time what the use of inviting these two people was.But I still went in the wind and rain, brought back a doctor, and the other said he would come tomorrow morning.Joseph stayed there and explained everything to the doctor, while I ran to the children's room.The door was ajar, and although it was past midnight, they didn't lie down at all.It's just that it's quieter now, and I don't need to comfort you anymore.These two little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than I could think of: There is no priest in the world who can paint heaven so beautifully as they paint it in their innocent words; while I sobbed, As I listened, I couldn't help wishing that we all went to heaven together safely.