CHAPTER 30
I have not seen her since she left: when I called at the Heights to ask after her, Joseph wouldn’t let me pass. He said Mrs. Linton was busy, and the master was not in. Zillah has told me how they go on, otherwise I should hardly know who was dead and who living. She thinks Catherine haughty. My young lady asked some aid of her when she first came; but Mr. Heathcliff told Zillah to let his daughter-in-law look after herself; and she willingly did so, being a narrow-minded, selfish woman. Catherine, annoyed, repaid this neglect with contempt, and thus made an enemy of Zillah.
I had a long talk with Zillah about six weeks ago, before you came, and this is what she told me.
‘The first thing Mrs. Linton did,’ she said, ‘on her arrival at the Heights, was to run upstairs, without even wishing good evening to me and Joseph; she shut herself in Linton’s room, and remained till morning. Then, while the master and Earnshaw were at breakfast, she came down and asked all in a quiver if the doctor might be sent for? her cousin was very ill.
‘“We know that!” answered Heathcliff; “but his life is not worth a farthing, and I won’t spend a farthing on him.”
‘“But I cannot tell what to do,” she said; “and if nobody will help me, he’ll die!”
‘“Leave the room,” cried the master, “and let me never hear a word more about him! No-one cares what becomes of him. If you do, nurse him; if not, lock him up and leave him.”
‘Then she began to bother me, but I said it was her task to wait on Linton.
‘How they managed together, I can’t tell. I fancy he fretted, and moaned night and day; and she had precious little rest: one could guess by her white face and heavy eyes. She sometimes came into the kitchen all bewildered like, and looked as if she would beg assistance; but I did not dare disobey the master. Though I thought it wrong that Dr. Kenneth should not be sent for, it was no concern of mine. Once or twice, I’ve seen her sitting crying on the stairs; and I did pity her then, I’m sure: still I didn’t wish to lose my place, you know.
‘At last, one night she came boldly into my chamber, and frightened me out of my wits, by saying, “Tell Mr. Heathcliff that his son is dying – I’m sure he is, this time. Get up, instantly, and tell him.”
‘Then she vanished again. I lay a quarter of an hour listening and trembling. Nothing stirred – the house was quiet.
‘She’s mistaken,’ I said to myself. ‘He’s got over it. I needn’t disturb them;’ and I began to doze. But there was a sharp ringing of the bell; and the master called to me to see what was the matter.
‘I delivered Catherine’s message. He cursed, and went to their room. I followed him. Mrs. Heathcliff was seated by the bedside, with her hands folded on her knees. Her father-in-law held the light to Linton’s face, looked at him and touched him; and turned to her.
‘“Now – Catherine,” he said, “how do you feel?”
‘“He’s safe, and I’m free,” she answered: “I should feel well – but,” she continued bitterly, “you have left me so long to struggle against death alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!”
‘And she looked like it, too! I gave her a little wine. Hareton and Joseph, who had been wakened by the ringing, now entered. Hareton seemed bothered: though he was more taken up with staring at Catherine than thinking of Linton. But the master bid him get off to bed again, and made Joseph remove the body to his chamber. I returned to my room, and Catherine remained by herself.
‘In the morning, Mr. Heathcliff sent me to tell her she must come down to breakfast. She said she was ill; so I informed Mr. Heathcliff. He replied, “Well, leave her be till after the funeral; and get her what she needs. As soon as she seems better, tell me.”’
Cathy stayed upstairs a fortnight, according to Zillah; who visited her twice a day, and would have been more friendly, but her attempts at kindness were proudly repelled.
Heathcliff went up once, to show her Linton’s will. He had bequeathed the whole of his moveable property to his father: the poor boy was threatened into that act during her week’s absence, when his uncle died. The lands, being a minor, he could not meddle with. However, Mr. Heathcliff has claimed and kept them in his wife’s right and his also: I suppose legally. At any rate, Catherine, without cash or friends, cannot disturb his possession.
‘Nobody else,’ said Zillah, ‘ever approached her door, except I; and nobody asked about her. The first time she came down was on a Sunday afternoon. I had told her the master was going to Thrushcross Grange; so as soon as she heard Heathcliff’s horse trot off, she appeared dressed in black, with her yellow curls combed back as plain as a Quaker.
‘Joseph had gone to chapel,’ Zillah continued, ‘but I thought it proper to bide at home and oversee the young folks. Hareton, with all his bashfulness, isn’t a model of good behaviour. I told him that his cousin would very likely sit with us, and she had been used to see the Sabbath respected; so he had better leave his guns alone, and stop his work. He coloured up at the news, and cast his eyes over his hands and clothes. I guessed he wanted to be presentable; so, laughing, I offered to help him, and joked at his confusion. He grew sullen, and began to swear.
‘Now, Mrs. Dean,’ Zillah went on, seeing me not pleased by her manner, ‘you may think your young lady too fine for Mr. Hareton; but I own I should love to bring her pride a peg lower. And what will all her learning and her daintiness do for her, now? She’s as poor as you or I: poorer, I’ll be bound.’
Hareton allowed Zillah to help him; and when Catherine came, he tried to make himself agreeable.
‘Missis walked in,’ said Zillah, ‘as chill as an icicle, and as high as a princess. I offered her my seat in the arm-chair. No, she turned up her nose at it. Earnshaw bid her sit close by the fire: he was sure she was cold.
‘“I’ve been cold a month and more,” she answered, as scornfully as she could.
‘She got a chair for herself, and placed it at a distance from both of us. Then she began to look round, and discovered some books on the dresser; she was instantly upon her feet again, stretching to reach them: but they were too high up. Her cousin summoned courage to help her.
‘That was a great advance for the lad. She didn’t thank him; still, he felt gratified that she had accepted his aid, and he stood behind her as she examined the books, even pointing out what struck his fancy in their pictures. Nor was he daunted by the saucy style in which she jerked the page from his finger: he moved farther back and looked at her as she read. He studied her thick silky curls: her face he couldn’t see.
‘And perhaps not quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, at last he put out his hand and gently stroked one curl. He might have stuck a knife into her neck, she started round in such a taking.
‘“Get away this moment! How dare you touch me?” she cried, in a tone of disgust. “I can’t endure you! I’ll go upstairs again, if you come near me.”
‘Mr. Hareton recoiled, looking foolish; he sat down very quiet, and she continued turning over her volumes another half hour. Finally, Earnshaw crossed over, and whispered to me.
‘“Will you ask her to read to us, Zillah? I’d like to hear her! Don’t say I wanted it, but ask for yourself.”
‘“Mr. Hareton wishes you would read to us, ma’am,” I said, immediately.
‘She frowned; and answered:
‘“Mr. Hareton, and the whole set of you, will be good enough to understand that I reject your pretence at kindness! I despise you, and have nothing to say to you! When I would have given my life for one kind word, you all kept off. But I won’t complain to you! I’m driven down here by the cold; not to enjoy your society.”
‘“What could I ha’ done?” began Earnshaw. “How was I to blame? I offered more than once. I asked Mr. Heathcliff to let me stay up for you—”
‘“Be silent! I’ll go out of doors, or anywhere, rather than have your disagreeable voice in my ear!” said my lady.
‘Hareton muttered she might go to hell, for him!
and unslinging his gun, restrained himself no longer, but talked freely.
‘Soon she retreated to her solitude: but the frost had set in, and, in spite of her pride, she was forced to join us, more and more. However, she has no lover or liker among us: and she does not deserve one; for, let them say the least word to her, and she’ll lash back. She’ll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him to thrash her; and the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows.’
At first, on hearing this account from Zillah, I determined to leave my situation, take a cottage, and get Catherine to come and live with me: but Mr. Heathcliff would never permit that. I can see no remedy, at present, unless she could marry again; and that I cannot arrange.
Thus ended Mrs. Dean’s story. I am rapidly recovering strength; and though it is only the second week in January, I propose getting out on horseback, and riding over to Wuthering Heights, to inform my landlord that I shall spend the next six months in London. I would not pass another winter here for much.
Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights: Abridged Page 31