Chapter 23 Chapter Nineteen

A letter bordered in black announcing my master's return.Isabella was dead, and he wrote to ask me to dress his daughter in mourning, and make a room and other preparations for his young nephew.Catherine was overjoyed at the thought of welcoming her father back; and wildly and wildly optimistically surmised the innumerable virtues of her "real" cousin.The night when their arrival was expected came.From early in the morning she had been busy ordering her own little business; and now in her new black dress--poor thing!Her aunt's death did not cause her any definite grief—she pestered me from time to time to insist that I accompany her across the estate to fetch them.

"Linton is only six months younger than I am," she rattled on, as we strolled leisurely across the uneven grass in the shade of the trees. "What a pleasure to play with him! Aunt Isabella gave papa a lock of his beautiful hair; lighter than mine--more blond, and rather fine. I I've kept it carefully in a little glass box; and I've often thought: What a joy it would be to see someone with that hair. Oh, I'm so happy--Papa, dear, dear Dad! Come on, Ellen, let's run! Come on, run!" She ran, turned back, ran again, many times before my steady steps reached the gate, and then she sat on the grass by the path and tried to wait patiently; but it was not Possible: She couldn't settle down for even a minute.

"How long will it be before they come!" she cried. "Oh, I see a bit of dust on the road--they're coming! No! When will they be here? Can't we walk a little--half a mile, Ellen, just half a mile! Say yes! Just go To the birch clump at the bend!" I firmly refuse.At last her suspense was over; the long-distance carriage could already be seen rolling up.Catherine screamed and held out her arms as soon as she saw her father's face looking out of the window.He got out of the car, almost as eager as she was; for a long time they thought of no one but themselves.While they were embracing each other, I took a peek at Linton.He was asleep in a corner of the car, wrapped in a warm, leather-trimmed coat, as if for the winter.A pale, delicate, frail boy, might have been my master's little brother: so much alike: yet there was a morbid oddity in his countenance, which Edgar Linton never had .Mr. Linton saw me watching; and after he shook hands, he bade me shut the door so as not to disturb him, for he was very weary from the journey.Katie wanted to take a second look, but his father called her over, and I busied myself with the servants, and they went out into the garden together.

"Now, dear," said Mr. Linton to his daughter, as they stopped in front of the doorstep, "your cousin is not as strong as you, nor as happy, and, remember, he has lost His mother isn't long; so don't expect him to be playing and running with you anytime soon. And don't annoy him with talking too much: let him be quiet to-night at least, will you?" "Yes, yes, papa," answered Catherine, "but I should like to see him; He hadn't even looked out for a second! " The carriage stopped, and the sleeping man was awakened, and was carried out of the carriage by his uncle.

"This is your cousin Katie Linton," he said, putting their little hands together. "She's very fond of you already; don't make her sad by crying tonight. Try to cheer up now; the trip is over, and you have nothing to do, rest and do what you like." "Then put me to bed," answered the boy, recoiling from Catherine's greeting; and with his fingers again wiped away the tears which began to flow. "Come, come, a good boy," I murmured, and led him in. "You're making her cry too—look how sorry she is for you!" I don't know if I felt sorry for him, but his cousin went back to her father with the same mournful face as he.All three went in and went upstairs to the study, where the tea was already set.I took off Linton's hat and cloak, and seated him in a chair by the table, but he was no sooner seated than weeping again.My master asked him what was the matter.

"I can't sit on the chair." The child sobbed. "Go on to the sofa, then, and Ellen will bring you tea," answered his uncle patiently.Along the way, I believe, he has had enough of being the irritable, troublesome child in his care.Linton shuffled slowly across, and lay down.Katie fetched a footstool and walked over to him with her teacup.At first she sat there in silence; but it was not long before she had resolved to make her little cousin a favourite, and she wished with all her heart that he was such a favourite; and she began to stroke his curly hair, and kiss his face, Serving him tea from her little saucer, like a baby.This pleased him, for he was not much better than a baby; he wiped his eyes dry, and smiled faintly.

"Oh, he's going to be fine," said the master to me, after watching them for a while. "It'll be all right, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a boy his own age will soon instill a new spirit in him, and if he will have strength, he will get it." its." "Oh, if only we could keep him!" I mused to myself, with a painful doubt that came over me, that there was little hope.Then, I thought, how does that feeble thing live at Wuthering Heights, between his father and Hareton?What playmates and teachers they will be!Our doubts came true right away—even sooner than I expected.I had just taken the children upstairs after tea, and seeing Linton asleep--he would not let me leave him until he was asleep--I went downstairs and was standing in the hall I was lighting a candle for Mr. Edgar's bedchamber at the table, when a maid came out of the kitchen and told me that Joseph, Heathcliff's servant, was at the door and wanted to speak to his master.

"I'll ask him what he's doing first," I said in a panic. "It's a very bad time to disturb people. They've just come home from a long journey. I don't think the master can see him." While I was saying this, Joseph had passed the kitchen and appeared in the hall.In his Sunday clothes, with his sullen, sullen face, hat in one hand, and cane in the other, he began to polish his shoes on the mat. "Good evening, Joseph," I said coldly, "what can you do to-night?" "I must speak to Master Linton," he answered, with a contemptuous wave of his hand, telling me to leave it alone.

"Mr. Linton is going to bed, and unless you have something special to say, I guarantee he won't be listening now," I went on. "You'd better sit over there first and tell me your mission." "Which one is his room?" the guy asked, looking at the row of closed doors. I understood that he didn't care about my thoughts at all, so I reluctantly walked to the study, informed the untimely visitor, advised the master to let him go, and talk about it tomorrow.Mr. Linton did not have time to grant me the right to do so, for Joseph followed me, and, rushing into the room, and standing firmly on the other side of the table, grasping the top of his stick with both fists, began to He spoke with a raised voice, as if anticipating refutation.

"Heathcliff told me to come for his boy, and I won't go back until I take him away." Edgar Linton was silent for a moment; an expression of utter sorrow clouded his face: for the boy he could but pity him; The longing for him, as well as the instructions he had given when he was in charge of Gu, and the thought of handing him over, made him very sad, and he thought hard about how to avoid it.Nothing can be done: If you show a desire to keep him, it will make the taker more determined.There is no other way but to give up on him.However, he had no intention of waking him from his sleep.

"Tell Mr. Heathcliff," he answered calmly, "that his son is going to Wuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed now, and too tired to walk this far. You may tell him too, Lin Dun's mother wished him to be taken care of by me; At present, his health is very worrying. " "No!" said Joseph, thumping the floor with his stick with an air of majesty. "No! It's no use. Heathcliff doesn't give a damn about the mother, or you; but he wants his child; I must take him--now you see!" "You can't take it tonight!" Linton replied firmly. "Go downstairs at once, and tell your master what I said, Ellen, and take him downstairs. Go—" He lifted the angry old man by the shoulders, pulled him out of the door, and closed the door behind him. "Very good!" exclaimed Joseph, as he walked slowly out. "He will come by himself tomorrow and see if you dare to push him out!"