by Emily Brontë
CHAPTER XXV
'These things happened last winter, sir,' said Mrs. Dean; 'hardly morethan a year ago. Last winter, I did not think, at another twelve months'end, I should be amusing a stranger to the family with relating them!Yet, who knows how long you'll be a stranger? You're too young to restalways contented, living by yourself; and I some way fancy no one couldsee Catherine Linton and not love her. You smile; but why do you look solively and interested when I talk about her? and why have you asked me tohang her picture over your fireplace? and why--?'
'Stop, my good friend!' I cried. 'It may be very possible that _I_should love her; but would she love me? I doubt it too much to venturemy tranquillity by running into temptation: and then my home is not here.I'm of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. Go on. WasCatherine obedient to her father's commands?'
'She was,' continued the housekeeper. 'Her affection for him was stillthe chief sentiment in her heart; and he spoke without anger: he spoke inthe deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils andfoes, where his remembered words would be the only aid that he couldbequeath to guide her. He said to me, a few days afterwards, "I wish mynephew would write, Ellen, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what you thinkof him: is he changed for the better, or is there a prospect ofimprovement, as he grows a man?"
'"He's very delicate, sir," I replied; "and scarcely likely to reachmanhood: but this I can say, he does not resemble his father; and if MissCatherine had the misfortune to marry him, he would not be beyond hercontrol: unless she were extremely and foolishly indulgent. However,master, you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with him and seewhether he would suit her: it wants four years and more to his being ofage."'
Edgar sighed; and, walking to the window, looked out towards GimmertonKirk. It was a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly, and wecould just distinguish the two fir-trees in the yard, and thesparely-scattered gravestones.
'I've prayed often,' he half soliloquised, 'for the approach of what iscoming; and now I begin to shrink, and fear it. I thought the memory ofthe hour I came down that glen a bridegroom would be less sweet than theanticipation that I was soon, in a few months, or, possibly, weeks, to becarried up, and laid in its lonely hollow! Ellen, I've been very happywith my little Cathy: through winter nights and summer days she was aliving hope at my side. But I've been as happy musing by myself amongthose stones, under that old church: lying, through the long Juneevenings, on the green mound of her mother's grave, and wishing--yearningfor the time when I might lie beneath it. What can I do for Cathy? Howmust I quit her? I'd not care one moment for Linton being Heathcliff'sson; nor for his taking her from me, if he could console her for my loss.I'd not care that Heathcliff gained his ends, and triumphed in robbing meof my last blessing! But should Linton be unworthy--only a feeble toolto his father--I cannot abandon her to him! And, hard though it be tocrush her buoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her sad while Ilive, and leaving her solitary when I die. Darling! I'd rather resignher to God, and lay her in the earth before me.'
'Resign her to God as it is, sir,' I answered, 'and if we should loseyou--which may He forbid--under His providence, I'll stand her friend andcounsellor to the last. Miss Catherine is a good girl: I don't fear thatshe will go wilfully wrong; and people who do their duty are alwaysfinally rewarded.'
Spring advanced; yet my master gathered no real strength, though heresumed his walks in the grounds with his daughter. To her inexperiencednotions, this itself was a sign of convalescence; and then his cheek wasoften flushed, and his eyes were bright; she felt sure of his recovering.On her seventeenth birthday, he did not visit the churchyard: it wasraining, and I observed--'You'll surely not go out to-night, sir?'
He answered,--'No, I'll defer it this year a little longer.' He wroteagain to Linton, expressing his great desire to see him; and, had theinvalid been presentable, I've no doubt his father would have permittedhim to come. As it was, being instructed, he returned an answer,intimating that Mr. Heathcliff objected to his calling at the Grange; buthis uncle's kind remembrance delighted him, and he hoped to meet himsometimes in his rambles, and personally to petition that his cousin andhe might not remain long so utterly divided.
That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own. Heathcliffknew he could plead eloquently for Catherine's company, then.
'I do not ask,' he said, 'that she may visit here; but am I never to seeher, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you forbid herto come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her towards the Heights;and let us exchange a few words, in your presence! We have done nothingto deserve this separation; and you are not angry with me: you have noreason to dislike me, you allow, yourself. Dear uncle! send me a kindnote to-morrow, and leave to join you anywhere you please, except atThrushcross Grange. I believe an interview would convince you that myfather's character is not mine: he affirms I am more your nephew than hisson; and though I have faults which render me unworthy of Catherine, shehas excused them, and for her sake, you should also. You inquire aftermy health--it is better; but while I remain cut off from all hope, anddoomed to solitude, or the society of those who never did and never willlike me, how can I be cheerful and well?'
Edgar, though he felt for the boy, could not consent to grant hisrequest; because he could not accompany Catherine. He said, in summer,perhaps, they might meet: meantime, he wished him to continue writing atintervals, and engaged to give him what advice and comfort he was able byletter; being well aware of his hard position in his family. Lintoncomplied; and had he been unrestrained, would probably have spoiled allby filling his epistles with complaints and lamentations: but his fatherkept a sharp watch over him; and, of course, insisted on every line thatmy master sent being shown; so, instead of penning his peculiar personalsufferings and distresses, the themes constantly uppermost in histhoughts, he harped on the cruel obligation of being held asunder fromhis friend and love; and gently intimated that Mr. Linton must allow aninterview soon, or he should fear he was purposely deceiving him withempty promises.
Cathy was a powerful ally at home; and between them they at lengthpersuaded my master to acquiesce in their having a ride or a walktogether about once a week, under my guardianship, and on the moorsnearest the Grange: for June found him still declining. Though he hadset aside yearly a portion of his income for my young lady's fortune, hehad a natural desire that she might retain--or at least return in a shorttime to--the house of her ancestors; and he considered her only prospectof doing that was by a union with his heir; he had no idea that thelatter was failing almost as fast as himself; nor had any one, I believe:no doctor visited the Heights, and no one saw Master Heathcliff to makereport of his condition among us. I, for my part, began to fancy myforebodings were false, and that he must be actually rallying, when hementioned riding and walking on the moors, and seemed so earnest inpursuing his object. I could not picture a father treating a dying childas tyrannically and wickedly as I afterwards learned Heathcliff hadtreated him, to compel this apparent eagerness: his efforts redoublingthe more imminently his avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatenedwith defeat by death.