Chapter 12 chapter eight

One fine June morning, the first beautiful little baby to come into my care, the last of the old Earnshaw family, was born.We were busy raking in a distant field, and the girl who used to bring us breakfast came an hour early.She ran across the grass and up the path, calling to me as she ran. "Oh, what a wonderful little boy!" she gasped, "the best boy ever! But the doctor said the wife must be gone, and he said she'd had consumption for months. I heard him Told Mr. Hindley. She can't keep herself now, and will die before winter. You must go home at once. You're going to fetch the child, Nelly, and give him sugar and milk, and attend to him day and night. I hope I am you, because when the wife is away, it will all belong to you!"

"But is she very ill?" I asked, dropping the rake and putting on my hat. "I suppose so, but she looks reassuring," replied the girl, "and she sounds as if she'd like to live and see the child grow up. She's so dazed with joy, what a beautiful child it is: I'd be dead if I were her: I'd just look at him and he'd be all right, no matter what Kenneth said. I'd be mad at him, Mrs. Ocher took the little angel to the hall The master saw that his face was full of joy, and the old fellow stepped forward and said, "It is a blessing for your wife to leave you a son, Earnshaw. When she came, I was convinced that she would not be kept. Now, I've got to tell you, she's probably going to die in the winter. Don't be sad, don't worry too much about it, it's hopeless. Besides, you should have been wiser to pick such a worthless girl!'"

"What did the master answer!" I asked. "I think he was cursing, but I didn't bother him, I just wanted to see the baby," she began to describe with ecstasy again.I was as enthusiastic as she was on my part, and ran home happily to see it.Although I am thinking of Hindley, I am also very sad.There are only two idols in his heart - his wife and himself.He loves both and adores only one, and I can't imagine how he can bear the loss. When we got to Wuthering Heights, he was standing at the door.As I entered, I asked, "How is the child?" "You can almost run around, Nell!" he answered, with a pleasant smile.

①Nell—Nell, nickname for Nelly. "Where's the mistress?" I asked boldly. "The doctor says she's—" "Damn doctor!" he interrupted me, blushing, "Francis is all right, and she'll be all right by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell her if she says yes?" I came without a word, and I left her, because she talked on and on, and she must be quiet.—Tell her, Dr. Kenneth said so." I conveyed this to Mrs. Earnshaw, who seemed very much interested, and answered quite cheerfully: "Ellen, I hardly said a word, and he went out twice crying. Well, say I promised I wouldn't talk, but that doesn't keep me from laughing at him!"

Poor man!Until a week before her death, that joyous heart did not desert her.Her husband was obstinately—nay, desperately—sure of her improving health.When Kenneth warned him that he was so ill that his medicines were useless, and that he didn't have to see her to waste his money, he retorted: "I know you needn't come again—she's all right—she doesn't need you to see her any more. She never had consumption. It was just a fever, and it's gone. Her pulse is as slow as mine now, and her face is pale. Same cool." He said the same thing to his wife, and she seemed to believe him.But one night, as she was leaning on her husband's shoulder, talking about how she thought she could get up tomorrow, a cough choked her words—a very slight cough—and he picked her up.She threw her arms around Earnshaw's neck, and when her countenance changed, she was dead.

As the girl expected, the boy, Hareton, was entirely under my control.Mr. Earnshaw was content with seeing him healthy, and never hearing him cry.As for himself, he became desperate, and his sorrow was of the kind that cannot be cried out.He neither weeps nor prays.Cursing and scorning, he hated God and man, and lived a life of wanton debauchery.The servants could not stand his tyrannical behavior, and soon all left.Joseph and I were the only two willing to stay.I could not bear to leave the child in my care, and, you know, I was once Earnshaw's sister-in-law, and I was more forgiving of his conduct than a stranger.Joseph continued to terrorize the tenants and the laborers, for it was his business to be in a place where he could rant about a lot of things.

The master's bad style and bad friends set a bad example for Catherine and Heathcliff.His treatment of Heathcliff is enough to turn a saint into a demon.And, really, in those days, it seemed like the kid really was possessed.He watched with glee at Hindley's depravity, the savage obstinacy and ferocity becoming more pronounced every day.Our house is like hell, I can't describe it to you.The curate stopped calling, and in the end, no decent person came near us.Edgar Linton was the only exception, and he often visited Miss Catty.At the age of fifteen, she was the queen of the country, no one could compare to her, and she really turned into an arrogant and willful stunner!Since her childhood was past, I confessed that I did not like her; I often irritated her in order to get rid of her self-important temper, though she never took a loathing attitude towards me.She retained a curious attachment to her old favorites; even Heathcliff was her favorite, unchanged.Young Linton, for all his superiority, found it difficult to impress her equally.He was my later master, and his portrait hangs over the fireplace.It was always hung on one side and his wife's on the other.But hers was removed, or you might be able to see what she used to be like.Can you see it?

Mrs. Ding held up the candle, and I could distinguish a gentle face, very similar to the young lady in the villa, but more contemplative and kind in expression.That's a lovely portrait.Long light-colored hair is slightly curled on the forehead, a pair of big and serious eyes, and the whole body is almost too refined.I am not at all surprised that Catherine Earnshaw should forget an old friend for such a person.But it would surprise me if he, with a mind commensurate with himself, could think of what I think of Catherine Earnshaw at the moment. "A very pleasing portrait," I said to the butler, "does it resemble him?"

"Yes," she answered, "but it's better when he's in a good mood; that's his usual look, and he's usually in a bad mood." Catherine has continued to see them since she lived with them for five weeks.Since she didn't want to show her rough side when they were together, and since she saw gentle manners there, she also knew that being rude was something to be ashamed of.Subtly and genially, she had unconsciously deceived old ladies and gentlemen, won Isabella's affections, and conquered her brother's mind--a gain which at first flattered her.Because she is ambitious, which makes her a dual character, not necessarily to deceive anyone.Where she had heard Heathcliff called a "dirty little rascal" and "worse than a brute," she took care not to behave like him.At home, however, she had little interest in exercising a politeness which would only be laughed at, and had no intention of restraining her dissolute nature, for restraint would not bring her prestige and admiration.

Mr. Edgar seldom had the courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly.He was wary of Earnshaw's reputation, and dreaded meeting him.But we always try to treat him as politely as possible.The master knew why he had come, and avoided offending him himself.If he can't be polite, just avoid it.I almost thought his presence rather distasteful to Catherine; she was free of artifice, never coquettish, and evidently strongly objected to the meeting of her two friends.For when Heathcliff showed contempt in Linton's presence, she did not go along with him as she did in Linton's absence; She dared not treat his feelings indifferently, as if someone despised her partner and had nothing to do with her.I always laugh at her confusion and unspeakable troubles, but she can't hide from my ridicule.It sounds like I'm cruel, but she's too proud, and people won't pity her pain unless she restrains herself and becomes more modest.At last she confessed herself, and confided in me.Who else could be her counselor but me.

Mr. Hindley was out one afternoon, and Heathcliff thought of giving himself a day's rest.I think he was sixteen years old at that time, not ugly in appearance, not bad in intelligence, but he tried to present a disgusting impression inside and out, and naturally his current appearance did not leave any traces.In the first place, his early education had by then ceased to have any effect on him, and the continual toil, early rising and late going to bed, had extinguished any curiosity he had once had in the pursuit of knowledge, and the love of books or Love of learning.The sense of superiority which had been instilled in him in childhood by old Mr. Earnshaw's affection was gone.He had long endeavored to keep Catherine on an equal footing in her studies, and with silent but poignant regret had at last relinquished; and he had relinquished altogether.When he finds that he must, and must inevitably, sink below his former level, no one can persuade him to take a step up.Then man's outward appearance echoed his inner depravity: he acquired a languid gait and an unseemly air; Ill temper.And he evidently took a bittersweet pleasure in provoking the aversion rather than the respect of his few acquaintances. Catherine was still his constant companion during his breaks at work; but he no longer expressed his affection for her, but fled her girlish caresses resentfully and suspiciously, as if feeling His abuse of affection is not to be entertained.On the day mentioned above, he came in and announced that he had no intention of doing anything, while I was helping Miss Catty to dress her.She did not account for the idea of ​​lounging in his mind; thinking she could occupy the whole hall, she had contrived to inform Mr. Edgar that her brother was not at home, and that she was going to receive him. "Katie, are you busy this afternoon?" asked Heathcliff. "Are you going anywhere?" "No, it's raining," she replied. "Then why are you wearing that silk jacket?" he said. "I hope no one's coming?" "I don't know if anyone is coming," stammered the lady, "but you must be in the field now, Heathcliff. It's been an hour since dinner, and I thought you were gone." "Hindley always gets in our way annoyingly, and seldom lets us go at our ease," said the boy. "Today I won't work, and I'll stay with you." "Oh, but Joseph's going to sue," she said round the corner, "you'd better go!" "Joseph's loading lime over Peniston Rock, and he'll be busy till dark, and he'll never know." With that said, he lingered to the fire and sat down.Catherine frowned and thought for a moment - she felt that she needed to clear the way for the incoming guests. "Isabella and Edgar Linton said they were coming this afternoon," said she, after a silence, "and since it's raining I won't have to wait for them. But they might come, if If they really come, then you are not guaranteed to be scolded innocently again." "Tell Ellen to say something about you, Katie," he insisted, "and don't throw me out for your poor stupid friends! Sometimes I just want to complain about them—but I won't— —” "They what?" cried Catherine, looking at him sullenly. "Oh, Nelly!" she exclaimed impatiently, wrenching her head out of my grasp, "you straighten my curly hair! That's enough, leave me alone. You just want to complain, Heathcliff?" "It's nothing—just look at the calendar on the wall." He pointed to a framed paper hanging by the window, and continued: "The ones with crosses are the evenings you spent with Linton and the others. The idea is Evenings spent with me. Do you see? I mark every day." "Yes, silly, as if I'd noticed!" replied Catherine, grumbling. "What's the point of that?" "Shows I've noticed," said Heathcliff. "Should I just sit with you all the time?" she demanded, getting more irritated. "What did I get? What did you say? What the hell did you ever say to me—or do to amuse me? You're just dumb, or a baby!" "You never told me before that I said little, or that you didn't like my company, Katie," cried Heathcliff with great emotion. "He who knows nothing and says nothing is no company at all," she grumbled. Her companion rose, but he had no time to express his feelings any further, for a horse's hooves were heard on the flagstones, and young Linton, after knocking lightly, entered, his face He was radiant at this unexpected call.Doubtless Catherine perceived, as one came in and the other went out, the very difference in the temperaments of her two friends.It is as if you have just seen a desolate hilly coal-producing area, and then changed to a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and politeness are the same as his appearance, which is the exact opposite.He has a melodious low voice, and his enunciation is just like yours.Not so rough, but softer than the ones we speak here. "I'm not here too early?" he asked, looking at me.I've started wiping the dishes and clearing out the top drawers in the cupboard. "Not early," answered Catherine. "What are you doing there, Nelly?" "Do my business, miss," I replied. (Mr. Hindley had ordered me to be a third party whenever Linton called privately.) She came up behind me and whispered annoyedly, "Take your rag and go away, a servant is not supposed to clean a guest's room when there are guests!" "It's a good opportunity now that the master is out," I answered loudly. "He hates me packing these things in his presence. I'm sure Mr. Edgar will forgive me." "But I hate it when you tidy up in front of me," cried the Mademoiselle imperiously, not allowing her guest a chance to speak--she had not been able to regain her composure since her little quarrel with Heathcliff. "I'm sorry, Miss Catherine," was my answer, and I went on with my business. She, thinking that Edgar could not see her, snatched the rag from me, and wrung it on my arm hard and long.I've said I don't love her, and always take pleasure in hurting her vanity; besides, she hurt me so much that I jumped up from my squat, and cried, "Oh, madam, it's Dirty tricks! You have no right to pinch me, I can't bear it." "I didn't touch you, you liar!" she cried, snapping her fingers to do it again, her ears flushed with rage.She never had the strength to hide her agitation, which always made her face flush. "So, what's this?" I retorted, pointing to my obvious purple spots as a testimony against her. She stamped her foot, hesitated for a moment, and then, unable to resist her stubbornness, slapped me so hard that my eyes filled with tears. "Catherine, dear! Catherine!" broke in Linton, shocked to see his idol fall into the double error of deceit and brutality. "Get out of this room, Ellen!" she repeated, trembling. Little Hareton, who had followed me everywhere, was sitting on the floor near me, and seeing my tears he began to cry himself, and called "bad Aunt Kitty" by crying, which rekindled her anger. On the head of his unfortunate child.She seized him by the shoulders and shook the poor boy until his face turned blue.Without even thinking about it, Edgar grabbed her hand to make her let him go.In an instant, a hand broke free, and the terrified young man realized that it had hit his own ear, and it seemed impossible to be mistaken for a joke.She withdrew her hand in panic.I picked up Hareton, and led him into the kitchen, leaving the door open, for I was curious to see how they would settle their displeasure.The insulted guest came up to where his hat had been placed, pale and with quivering lips. "That's right!" I said to myself. "Take the warning and go away! It'll be a good thing to give you a glimpse of her real temper." "Where are you going?" Catherine asked after walking to the door. He turned around, intending to walk over. "You can't go!" she yelled obstinately. "I must go, and I will!" he answered in a low voice. "No," she persisted, gripping the handle, "not yet, Edgar Linton. Sit down, and you cannot leave me like this. I shall be sorry all night, and I will not be sorry for you! " "You beat me, can I stay?" asked Linton. Catherine fell silent. "You've made me afraid of you and ashamed of you," he went on, "and I won't come here again!" Her eyes started to light up, and her eyelids blinked. "And you're lying on purpose!" he said. "I didn't!" she cried, and began again. "I didn't mean anything. Well, go, as you like—go away! Now I'm going to cry—I'm going to cry till I'm half dead!" She knelt down before a chair and began to cry earnestly and bitterly.Edgar maintained his resolution and went straight into the courtyard; there he hesitated again.I decided to encourage him. "Miss is very capricious, sir," I cried, "as bad as any spoiled child. You'd better ride home, or she'll make a fuss, and torment us all." The bony squinted out the window: he simply had no strength to move away, any more than a cat has the strength to move away from a half-dead mouse or a half-eaten bird.what!I thought, there is no way to save him, he is doomed, and he is flying towards his destiny!And so it was, he turned abruptly, hurried back into the house, and closed the door behind him.After a while, when I went in to tell them that Earnshaw had come home drunk, and was going to ruin our old house (as he usually was in such circumstances), I saw that the quarrel To foster a closer intimacy--has broken down the citadels of youth's shyness, and made them drop the pretense of friendship and admit themselves lovers. The news of Mr. Hindley's arrival prompted Linton to mount hastily, and also drove Catherine back to her bedchamber.I went and hid little Hareton, and unloaded the master's shotgun, which he loved to play in his mad excitement, and risked his life to anyone who offended him, or even drew his attention too much. .I figured out a way to keep the bullets out of the way so that if he did get into trouble and shoot, he'd be less troubled.