Chapter II

YESTERDAY afternoon set in misty and cold. I had
half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading
through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights. On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B. I dine between twelve
and one o’clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken
as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not,
comprehend my request that I might be served at five) on
mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping
into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees surrounded
by brushes and coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust
as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders. This
spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat, and,
after a four-miles’ walk, arrived at Heathcliff’s garden-gate
just in time to escape the first feathery flakes of a snowshower.
On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black
frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being
unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up
the flagged causeway bordered with straggling gooseberrybushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles
tingled and the dogs howled.
‘Wretched inmates!’ I ejaculated, mentally, ‘you deserve
perpetual isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least, I would not keep my doors barred in
12 Wuthering Heights
the day-time. I don’t care I will get in!’ So resolved, I grasped
the latch and shook it vehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph
projected his head from a round window of the barn.
‘What are ye for?’ he shouted. ‘T’ maister’s down i’ t’
fowld. Go round by th’ end o’ t’ laith, if ye went to spake
to him.’
‘Is there nobody inside to open the door?’ I hallooed, responsively.
‘There’s nobbut t’ missis; and shoo’ll not oppen ‘t an ye
mak’ yer flaysome dins till neeght.’
‘Why? Cannot you tell her whom I am, eh, Joseph?’
‘Nor-ne me! I’ll hae no hend wi’t,’ muttered the head,
vanishing.
The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to
essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and
shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He
hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through
a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed,
pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge,
warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received.
It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire,
compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table,
laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe
the ‘missis,’ an individual whose existence I had never previously suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking she would
bid me take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her
chair, and remained motionless and mute.
‘Rough weather!’ I remarked. ‘I’m afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff,
the door must bear the consequence of your servants’ lei-
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sure attendance: I had hard work to make them hear me.’
She never opened her mouth. I stared she stared also: at
any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.
‘Sit down,’ said the young man, gruffly. ‘He’ll be in
soon.’
I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who
deigned, at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of
her tail, in token of owning my acquaintance.
‘A beautiful animal!’ I commenced again. ‘Do you intend
parting with the little ones, madam?’
‘They are not mine,’ said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied.
‘Ah, your favourites are among these?’ I continued, turning to an obscure cushion full of something like cats.
‘A strange choice of favourites!’ she observed scornfully.
Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits. I hemmed once
more, and drew closer to the hearth, repeating my comment
on the wildness of the evening.
‘You should not have come out,’ she said, rising and
reaching from the chimney-piece two of the painted canisters.
Her position before was sheltered from the light; now,
I had a distinct view of her whole figure and countenance.
She was slender, and apparently scarcely past girlhood: an
admirable form, and the most exquisite little face that I have
ever had the pleasure of beholding; small features, very fair;
flaxen ringlets, or rather golden, hanging loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they been agreeable in expression,
14 Wuthering Heights
that would have been irresistible: fortunately for my susceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered
between scorn and a kind of desperation, singularly unnatural to be detected there. The canisters were almost out of
her reach; I made a motion to aid her; she turned upon me
as a miser might turn if any one attempted to assist him in
counting his gold.
‘I don’t want your help,’ she snapped; ‘I can get them for
myself.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ I hastened to reply.
‘Were you asked to tea?’ she demanded, tying an apron
over her neat black frock, and standing with a spoonful of
the leaf poised over the pot.
‘I shall be glad to have a cup,’ I answered.
‘Were you asked?’ she repeated.
‘No,’ I said, half smiling. ‘You are the proper person to
ask me.’
She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her
chair in a pet; her forehead corrugated, and her red underlip pushed out, like a child’s ready to cry.
Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a
decidedly shabby upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the corner of his
eyes, for all the world as if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a
servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely
devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated,
his whiskers encroached bearishly over his cheeks, and his
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hands were embrowned like those of a common labourer:
still his bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed
none of a domestic’s assiduity in attending on the lady of
the house. In the absence of clear proofs of his condition, I
deemed it best to abstain from noticing his curious conduct;
and, five minutes afterwards, the entrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure, from my uncomfortable state.
‘You see, sir, I am come, according to promise!’ I exclaimed, assuming the cheerful; ‘and I fear I shall be
weather-bound for half an hour, if you can afford me shelter
during that space.’
‘Half an hour?’ he said, shaking the white flakes from
his clothes; ‘I wonder you should select the thick of a snowstorm to ramble about in. Do you know that you run a risk
of being lost in the marshes? People familiar with these
moors often miss their road on such evenings; and I can tell
you there is no chance of a change at present.’
‘Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might
stay at the Grange till morning could you spare me one?’
‘No, I could not.’
‘Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own sagacity.’
‘Umph!’
‘Are you going to mak’ the tea?’ demanded he of the
shabby coat, shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the
young lady.
‘Is HE to have any?’ she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.
‘Get it ready, will you?’ was the answer, uttered so savagely that I started. The tone in which the words were said
16 Wuthering Heights
revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt inclined to
call Heathcliff a capital fellow. When the preparations were
finished, he invited me with ‘Now, sir, bring forward your
chair.’ And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round
the table: an austere silence prevailing while we discussed
our meal.
I thought, if I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to
make an effort to dispel it. They could not every day sit so
grim and taciturn; and it was impossible, however ill-tempered they might be, that the universal scowl they wore was
their every-day countenance.
‘It is strange,’ I began, in the interval of swallowing one
cup of tea and receiving another ‘it is strange how custom
can mould our tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the
existence of happiness in a life of such complete exile from
the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet, I’ll venture to
say, that, surrounded by your family, and with your amiable
lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart ‘
‘My amiable lady!’ he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his face. ‘Where is she my amiable lady?’
‘Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.’
‘Well, yes oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of
Wuthering Heights, even when her body is gone. Is that it?’
Perceiving myself in a blunder, I attempted to correct it.
I might have seen there was too great a disparity between
the ages of the parties to make it likely that they were man
and wife. One was about forty: a period of mental vigour at
which men seldom cherish the delusion of being married
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for love by girls: that dream is reserved for the solace of our
declining years. The other did not look seventeen.
Then it flashed on me ‘The clown at my elbow, who is
drinking his tea out of a basin and eating his broad with
unwashed hands, may be her husband: Heathcliff junior,
of course. Here is the consequence of being buried alive:
she has thrown herself away upon that boor from sheer ignorance that better individuals existed! A sad pity I must
beware how I cause her to regret her choice.’ The last reflection may seem conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck
me as bordering on repulsive; I knew, through experience,
that I was tolerably attractive.
‘Mrs. Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law,’ said Heathcliff,
corroborating my surmise. He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction: a look of hatred; unless he has a
most perverse set of facial muscles that will not, like those
of other people, interpret the language of his soul.
‘Ah, certainly I see now: you are the favoured possessor
of the beneficent fairy,’ I remarked, turning to my neighbour.
This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson,
and clenched his fist, with every appearance of a meditated
assault. But he seemed to recollect himself presently, and
smothered the storm in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf: which, however, I took care not to notice.
‘Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,’ observed my host; ‘we
neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy;
her mate is dead. I said she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married my son.’
18 Wuthering Heights
‘And this young man is ‘
‘Not my son, assuredly.’
Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest
to attribute the paternity of that bear to him.
‘My name is Hareton Earnshaw,’ growled the other; ‘and
I’d counsel you to respect it!’
‘I’ve shown no disrespect,’ was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which he announced himself.
He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the
stare, for fear I might be tempted either to box his ears or
render my hilarity audible. I began to feel unmistakably out
of place in that pleasant family circle. The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralised, the
glowing physical comforts round me; and I resolved to be
cautious how I ventured under those rafters a third time.
The business of eating being concluded, and no one uttering a word of sociable conversation, I approached a window
to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight I saw: dark night
coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in
one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.
‘I don’t think it possible for me to get home now without a guide,’ I could not help exclaiming. ‘The roads will be
buried already; and, if they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.’
‘Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch.
They’ll be covered if left in the fold all night: and put a plank
before them,’ said Heathcliff.
‘How must I do?’ I continued, with rising irritation.
There was no reply to my question; and on looking round
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I saw only Joseph bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs,
and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning over the fire, diverting herself
with burning a bundle of matches which had fallen from
the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its
place. The former, when he had deposited his burden, took a
critical survey of the room, and in cracked tones grated out
‘Aw wonder how yah can faishion to stand thear i’ idleness
un war, when all on ‘ems goan out! Bud yah’re a nowt, and
it’s no use talking yah’ll niver mend o’yer ill ways, but goa
raight to t’ divil, like yer mother afore ye!’
I imagined, for a moment, that this piece of eloquence
was addressed to me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal with an intention of kicking him out
of the door. Mrs. Heathcliff, however, checked me by her
answer.
‘You scandalous old hypocrite!’ she replied. ‘Are you not
afraid of being carried away bodily, whenever you mention
the devil’s name? I warn you to refrain from provoking me,
or I’ll ask your abduction as a special favour! Stop! look
here, Joseph,’ she continued, taking a long, dark book from
a shelf; ‘I’ll show you how far I’ve progressed in the Black
Art: I shall soon be competent to make a clear house of it.
The red cow didn’t die by chance; and your rheumatism can
hardly be reckoned among providential visitations!’
‘Oh, wicked, wicked!’ gasped the elder; ‘may the Lord deliver us from evil!’
‘No, reprobate! you are a castaway be off, or I’ll hurt you
seriously! I’ll have you all modelled in wax and clay! and the
first who passes the limits I fix shall I’ll not say what he shall
20 Wuthering Heights
be done to but, you’ll see! Go, I’m looking at you!’
The little witch put a mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and Joseph, trembling with sincere horror, hurried
out, praying, and ejaculating ‘wicked’ as he went. I thought
her conduct must be prompted by a species of dreary fun;
and, now that we were alone, I endeavoured to interest her
in my distress.
‘Mrs. Heathcliff,’ I said earnestly, ‘you must excuse me
for troubling you. I presume, because, with that face, I’m
sure you cannot help being good-hearted. Do point out
some landmarks by which I may know my way home: I have
no more idea how to get there than you would have how to
get to London!’
‘Take the road you came,’ she answered, ensconcing herself in a chair, with a candle, and the long book open before
her. ‘It is brief advice, but as sound as I can give.’
‘Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead in a bog
or a pit full of snow, your conscience won’t whisper that it is
partly your fault?’
‘How so? I cannot escort you. They wouldn’t let me go to
the end of the garden wall.’
‘YOU! I should be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold,
for my convenience, on such a night,’ I cried. ‘I want you
to tell me my way, not to SHOW it: or else to persuade Mr.
Heathcliff to give me a guide.’
‘Who? There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph and I.
Which would you have?’
‘Are there no boys at the farm?’
‘No; those are all.’
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‘Then, it follows that I am compelled to stay.’
‘That you may settle with your host. I have nothing to
do with it.’
‘I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more rash
journeys on these hills,’ cried Heathcliff’s stern voice from
the kitchen entrance. ‘As to staying here, I don’t keep accommodations for visitors: you must share a bed with Hareton
or Joseph, if you do.’
‘I can sleep on a chair in this room,’ I replied.
‘No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: it will
not suit me to permit any one the range of the place while I
am off guard!’ said the unmannerly wretch.
With this insult my patience was at an end. I uttered an
expression of disgust, and pushed past him into the yard,
running against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so dark that
I could not see the means of exit; and, as I wandered round,
I heard another specimen of their civil behaviour amongst
each other. At first the young man appeared about to befriend me.
‘I’ll go with him as far as the park,’ he said.
‘You’ll go with him to hell!’ exclaimed his master, or
whatever relation he bore. ‘And who is to look after the
horses, eh?’
‘A man’s life is of more consequence than one evening’s
neglect of the horses: somebody must go,’ murmured Mrs.
Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected.
‘Not at your command!’ retorted Hareton. ‘If you set
store on him, you’d better be quiet.’
‘Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr.
22 Wuthering Heights
Heathcliff will never get another tenant till the Grange is a
ruin,’ she answered, sharply.
‘Hearken, hearken, shoo’s cursing on ‘em!’ muttered Joseph, towards whom I had been steering.
He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of
a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out
that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest postern.
‘Maister, maister, he’s staling t’ lanthern!’ shouted the
ancient, pursuing my retreat. ‘Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey
Wolf, holld him, holld him!’
On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at my
throat, bearing me down, and extinguishing the light; while
a mingled guffaw from Heathcliff and Hareton put the copestone on my rage and humiliation. Fortunately, the beasts
seemed more bent on stretching their paws, and yawning,
and flourishing their tails, than devouring me alive; but
they would suffer no resurrection, and I was forced to lie till
their malignant masters pleased to deliver me: then, hatless and trembling with wrath, I ordered the miscreants to
let me out on their peril to keep me one minute longer with
several incoherent threats of retaliation that, in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.
The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious
bleeding at the nose, and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I
scolded. I don’t know what would have concluded the scene,
had there not been one person at hand rather more rational
than myself, and more benevolent than my entertainer. This
was Zillah, the stout housewife; who at length issued forth
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to inquire into the nature of the uproar. She thought that
some of them had been laying violent hands on me; and, not
daring to attack her master, she turned her vocal artillery
against the younger scoundrel.
‘Well, Mr. Earnshaw,’ she cried, ‘I wonder what you’ll
have agait next? Are we going to murder folk on our very
door-stones? I see this house will never do for me look at t’
poor lad, he’s fair choking! Wisht, wisht; you mun’n’t go on
so. Come in, and I’ll cure that: there now, hold ye still.’
With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of icy
water down my neck, and pulled me into the kitchen. Mr.
Heathcliff followed, his accidental merriment expiring
quickly in his habitual moroseness.
I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint; and thus
compelled perforce to accept lodgings under his roof. He
told Zillah to give me a glass of brandy, and then passed on
to the inner room; while she condoled with me on my sorry
predicament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby I was
somewhat revived, ushered me to bed.