Wuthering Heights (1847)

Chapter X

A charming introduction to a hermit’s life!  Four weeks’ torture, tossing, and sickness!  Oh, these bleak winds and bitter northern skies, and impassable roads, and dilatory country surgeons!  And oh, this dearth of the human physiognomy! and, worse than all, the terrible intimation of Kenneth that I need not expect to be out of doors till spring!

Mr. Heathcliff has just honoured me with a call.  About seven days ago he sent me a brace of grouse—the last of the season.  Scoundrel!  He is not altogether guiltless in this illness of mine; and that I had a great mind to tell him.  But, alas! how could I offend a man who was charitable enough to sit at my bedside a good hour, and talk on some other subject than pills and draughts, blisters and leeches?  This is quite an easy interval.  I am too weak to read; yet I feel as if I could enjoy something interesting.  Why not have up Mrs. Dean to finish her tale?  I can recollect its chief incidents, as far as she had gone.  Yes: I remember her hero had run off, and never been heard of for three years; and the heroine was married.  I’ll ring: she’ll be delighted to find me capable of talking cheerfully.  Mrs. Dean came.

‘It wants twenty minutes, sir, to taking the medicine,’ she commenced.

‘Away, away with it!’ I replied; ‘I desire to have—’

‘The doctor says you must drop the powders.’

‘With all my heart!  Don’t interrupt me.  Come and take your seat here.  Keep your fingers from that bitter phalanx of vials.  Draw your knitting out of your pocket—that will do—now continue the history of Mr. Heathcliff, from where you left off, to the present day.  Did he finish his education on the Continent, and come back a gentleman? or did he get a sizar’s place at college, or escape to America, and earn honours by drawing blood from his foster-country? or make a fortune more promptly on the English highways?’

‘He may have done a little in all these vocations, Mr. Lockwood; but I couldn’t give my word for any.  I stated before that I didn’t know how he gained his money; neither am I aware of the means he took to raise his mind from the savage ignorance into which it was sunk: but, with your leave, I’ll proceed in my own fashion, if you think it will amuse and not weary you.  Are you feeling better this morning?’

‘Much.’

‘That’s good news.’

* * * * *

I got Miss Catherine and myself to Thrushcross Grange; and, to my agreeable disappointment, she behaved infinitely better than I dared to expect.  She seemed almost over-fond of Mr. Linton; and even to his sister she showed plenty of affection.  They were both very attentive to her comfort, certainly.  It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.  There were no mutual concessions: one stood erect, and the others yielded: and who can be ill-natured and bad-tempered when they encounter neither opposition nor indifference?  I observed that Mr. Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of ruffling her humour.  He concealed it from her; but if ever he heard me answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some imperious order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure that never darkened on his own account.  He many a time spoke sternly to me about my pertness; and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict a worse pang than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed.  Not to grieve a kind master, I learned to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it.  Catherine had seasons of gloom and silence now and then: they were respected with sympathising silence by her husband, who ascribed them to an alteration in her constitution, produced by her perilous illness; as she was never subject to depression of spirits before.  The return of sunshine was welcomed by answering sunshine from him.  I believe I may assert that they were really in possession of deep and growing happiness.