by Emily Brontë
CHAPTER XIX
A letter, edged with black, announced the day of my master's return.Isabella was dead; and he wrote to bid me get mourning for his daughter,and arrange a room, and other accommodations, for his youthful nephew.Catherine ran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back; andindulged most sanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies ofher 'real' cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came. Sinceearly morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs; and nowattired in her new black frock--poor thing! her aunt's death impressedher with no definite sorrow--she obliged me, by constant worrying, towalk with her down through the grounds to meet them.
'Linton is just six months younger than I am,' she chattered, as westrolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, undershadow of the trees. 'How delightful it will be to have him for aplayfellow! Aunt Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair; it waslighter than mine--more flaxen, and quite as fine. I have it carefullypreserved in a little glass box; and I've often thought what a pleasureit would be to see its owner. Oh! I am happy--and papa, dear, dear papa!Come, Ellen, let us run! come, run.'
She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footstepsreached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy bank besidethe path, and tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible: shecouldn't be still a minute.
'How long they are!' she exclaimed. 'Ah, I see, some dust on theroad--they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go alittle way--half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say Yes: tothat clump of birches at the turn!'
I refused staunchly. At length her suspense was ended: the travellingcarriage rolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her armsas soon as she caught her father's face looking from the window. Hedescended, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable intervalelapsed ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. Whilethey exchanged caresses I took a peep in to see after Linton. He wasasleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had beenwinter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken formy master's younger brother, so strong was the resemblance: but there wasa sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had. Thelatter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised me to close thedoor, and leave him undisturbed; for the journey had fatigued him. Cathywould fain have taken one glance, but her father told her to come, andthey walked together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare theservants.
'Now, darling,' said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they haltedat the bottom of the front steps: 'your cousin is not so strong or somerry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short timesince; therefore, don't expect him to play and run about with youdirectly. And don't harass him much by talking: let him be quiet thisevening, at least, will you?'
'Yes, yes, papa,' answered Catherine: 'but I do want to see him; and hehasn't once looked out.'
The carriage stopped; and the sleeper being roused, was lifted to theground by his uncle.
'This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,' he said, putting their little handstogether. 'She's fond of you already; and mind you don't grieve her bycrying to-night. Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is at an end,and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please.'
'Let me go to bed, then,' answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine'ssalute; and he put his fingers to remove incipient tears.
'Come, come, there's a good child,' I whispered, leading him in. 'You'llmake her weep too--see how sorry she is for you!'
I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sada countenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered,and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded toremove Linton's cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table;but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My masterinquired what was the matter.
'I can't sit on a chair,' sobbed the boy.
'Go to the sofa, then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea,' answered hisuncle patiently.
He had been greatly tried, during the journey, I felt convinced, by hisfretful ailing charge. Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down.Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to his side. At first she satsilent; but that could not last: she had resolved to make a pet of herlittle cousin, as she would have him to be; and she commenced strokinghis curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in her saucer,like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better: he dried hiseyes, and lightened into a faint smile.
'Oh, he'll do very well,' said the master to me, after watching them aminute. 'Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a childof his own age will instil new spirit into him soon, and by wishing forstrength he'll gain it.'
'Ay, if we can keep him!' I mused to myself; and sore misgivings cameover me that there was slight hope of that. And then, I thought, however will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights? Between his fatherand Hareton, what playmates and instructors they'll be. Our doubts werepresently decided--even earlier than I expected. I had just taken thechildren up-stairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linton asleep--hewould not suffer me to leave him till that was the case--I had come down,and was standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle forMr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen and informed me thatMr. Heathcliff's servant Joseph was at the door, and wished to speak withthe master.
'I shall ask him what he wants first,' I said, in considerabletrepidation. 'A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and theinstant they have returned from a long journey. I don't think the mastercan see him.'
Joseph had advanced through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and nowpresented himself in the hall. He was donned in his Sunday garments,with his most sanctimonious and sourest face, and, holding his hat in onehand, and his stick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on themat.
'Good-evening, Joseph,' I said, coldly. 'What business brings you hereto-night?'
'It's Maister Linton I mun spake to,' he answered, waving me disdainfullyaside.
'Mr. Linton is going to bed; unless you have something particular to say,I'm sure he won't hear it now,' I continued. 'You had better sit down inthere, and entrust your message to me.'
'Which is his rahm?' pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closeddoors.
I perceived he was bent on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly Iwent up to the library, and announced the unseasonable visitor, advisingthat he should be dismissed till next day. Mr. Linton had no time toempower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my heels, and, pushinginto the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the table, withhis two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began in an elevatedtone, as if anticipating opposition--
'Hathecliff has sent me for his lad, and I munn't goa back 'bout him.'
Edgar Linton was silent a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrowovercast his features: he would have pitied the child on his own account;but, recalling Isabella's hopes and fears, and anxious wishes for herson, and her commendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly at theprospect of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might beavoided. No plan offered itself: the very exhibition of any desire tokeep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory: there wasnothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going to rouse himfrom his sleep.
'Tell Mr. Heathcliff,' he answered calmly, 'that his son shall come toWuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go thedistance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desiredhim to remain under my guardianship; and, at present, his health is veryprecarious.'
'Noa!' said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, andassuming an authoritative air. 'Noa! that means naught. Hathecliff maksnoa 'count o' t' mother, nor ye norther; but he'll heu' his lad; und Imun tak' him--soa now ye knaw!'
'You shall not to-night!' answered Linton decisiv
ely. 'Walk down stairsat once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, show himdown. Go--'
And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the roomof him and closed the door.
'Varrah weell!' shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. 'To-morn, he'scome hisseln, and thrust _him_ out, if ye darr!'