CHAPTER XVII That Friday made the last of our fine days for a month. In the evening the weather broke. The wind shifted from south to northeast, and brought rain first, and then sleet and snow. On the morrow one could hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer. The primroses and crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts, the larks were silent, the young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened, and dreary and chill and dismal that morrow did creep over. My master kept his room. I took possession of the lonely parlor, converting it into a nursery. And there I was, sitting with the morning doll of a child, laid on my knee, rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, the still-driving flakes build up the uncurtained window. When the door opened, and some person entered out of breath and laughing. My anger was greater than my astonishment for a minute. I supposed it one of the maids, and I cried, Have done!  What would Mr. Linton say if he heard you? Excuse me! answered a familiar voice. But I know Edgar is in bed, and I cannot stop myself. With that the speaker came forward to the fire, panting and holding her hand to her side. I've run the whole way from Wuthering Heights! she continued after a pause. Except where I've flown, I couldn't count the number of falls I've had. Oh, I'm aching all over! Don't be alarmed! There shall be an explanation as soon as I can give it. Only just have the goodness to step out and order the carriage to take me on to Gimmeton, and tell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe. The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff. She certainly seemed in no laughing predicament. Her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and water. She was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting her age more than her position, a low frock with short sleeves, and nothing on either head or neck. The frock was of light silk and clung to her with wet, and her feet were protected merely by thin slippers. Add to this a deep coat under one ear, which only the cold prevented from bleeding profusely, a white face scratched and bruised, and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue. And you may fancy my first fright was not much elade when I had had leisure to examine her. "'My dear young lady,' I exclaimed, I'll stir nowhere and hear nothing till you have removed every article of your clothes and put on dry things. And certainly you shall not go to Gimmarton to-night, so it is needless to order the carriage.' "'Certainly I shall,' she said, walking or riding, yet I have no objection to dress myself decently.  The fire does make it smart!' She insisted on my fulfilling her directions before she would let me touch her, and not till after the coachman had been instructed to get ready, and a maid set to pack up some necessary attire, did I obtain her consent for binding the wound and helping to change her garments. "'Now, Ellen,' she said, when my task was finished, and she was seated in an easy chair on the hearth with a cup of tea before her. "'You sit down opposite me and put poor Catherine's baby away. I don't like to see it.  I have cried too bitterly. Yes, more than anyone else has reason to cry. We parted unreconciled, you remember, and I shan't forgive myself. But for all that I was not going to sympathise with him, the brute beast. Oh, give me the poker! This is the last thing of his I have about me.' She slipped the gold ring from her third finger and threw it on the floor. "'I'll smash it,' she continued, striking it with childish spite. "'And then I'll burn it,' and she took and dropped the misused article among the calls. "'There! He shall buy another if he gets me back again. He'd be capable of coming to seek me, to tease Edgar.  And besides, Edgar has not been kind, has he? And I won't come suing for his assistance, nor will I bring him into more trouble. Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here. Though if I had not learnt he was out of the way, I'd have halted at the kitchen, washed my face, warmed myself, got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again to anywhere out of the reach of my accursed of that incarnate goblin. Ah, he was in such a fury! If he had caught me, it's a pity Earnshor is not his match in strength. I wouldn't have run till I'd seen him all but demolished had Hindley been able to do it.' "'Well, don't talk so fast, Miss,' I interrupted. "'You'll disorder the hunkerchief I've tied round your face and make the cut bleed again. Drink your tea and take breath, and give over laughing. Laughter is sadly out of place under this roof and in your condition.' "'An undeniable choose,' she replied. "'Listen to that child. It maintains a constant wail. Send it out of my hearing for an hour. I shan't stay any longer.' I rang the bell and committed it to a servant's care, and then I inquired what had urged her to escape from Wuthering Heights in such an unlikely plight. And where she meant to go, as she refused remaining with us. "'I ought, and I wished, to remain,' answered she. "'To cheer Edgar and take care of the baby, for two things, and because the Grange is my right home. But I tell you he wouldn't let me. Do you think he could bear to see me grow fat and merry? Could bear to think that we were tranquil and not resolve on poisoning our comfort? Now I have the satisfaction of being sure that he detests me to the point of its annoying him seriously to have me with an earshot or eyesight. I notice when I enter his presence the muscles of his countenance are involuntarily distorted into an expression of hatred, partly arising from his knowledge of the good causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly from original aversion. It is strong enough to make me feel pretty certain that he would not chase me over England, supposing I contrived a clear escape, and therefore I must get quite away. I've recovered from my first desire to be killed by him. I'd rather he killed himself. He has extinguished my love effectually, and so I'm at my ease. I can recollect yet how I loved him, and can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him if—no, no—even if he had doted on me, the devilish nature would have revealed its existence somehow. Catherine had an awfully perverted taste to esteem him so dearly, knowing him so well. Monster! Would that he could be blotted out of creation and out of my memory? Hush, hush! He's a human being. I said, be more charitable. There are worse men than he is yet. He's not a human being, she retorted, and he has no claim on my charity. I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him, and I would not, though he'd grown from this to his dying day, and wet tears of blood for Catherine. No, indeed, indeed, I wouldn't. And here Isabella began to cry, but immediately dashing the water from her lashes, she recommenced. You asked what has driven me to flight at last. I was compelled to attempt it, because I had succeeded in rousing his rage a pitch above his malignity. Pulling up the nerves with red-hot pincers requires more coolness than knocking on the head. He was worked up to forget the fiendish prudence he boasted of, and proceeded to murder as violence. I experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him. The sense of pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation, so I fairly broke free. And if ever I come into his hands again, he is welcome to a signal revenge. Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. He kept himself sober for the purpose, tolerably sober, not going to bed mad at six o'clock, and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently he rose in suicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance, and instead he sat down by the fire, and swallowed gin or brandy by tumbler falls. Heathcliff, I shudder to name him, has been a stranger in the house from last Sunday till to-day. Whether the angels have fed him or his kin beneath, I cannot tell, but he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a week. He has just come home at dawn and gone upstairs to his chamber, locking himself in, as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company. There he has continued, praying like a Methodist, only the deity he implored is senseless dust and ashes, and God, when addressed, was curiously confounded with his own black father. After concluding these precious horizons, and they lasted generally till he grew horse, and his voice was strangle in his throat, he would be off again, always straight down to the Grange. I wonder Edgar did not send for a constable and give him into custody. For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was impossible to avoid regarding this season of deliverance from degrading oppression as a holiday. I recovered spirits sufficient to bear Joseph's eternal lectures without weeping and to move up and down the house less with the foot of a frightened thief than formerly. You wouldn't think that I should cry at anything Joseph could say, but he and Herton are detestable companions. I'd rather sit with Hindley and hear his awful talk than with T'little Maester, and his staunch supporter, that odious old man. When Heathcliff is in, I'm often obliged to seek the kitchen and their society, or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers. When he is not, as was the case this week, I establish a table and chair at one corner of the house fire, and never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself, and he does not interfere with my arrangements. He is quieter now than he used to be, if no one provokes him, more sullen and depressed and less furious. Joseph affirms he's sure he's an altered man, that the Lord has touched his heart, and he is saved so as by fire. I'm puzzled to detect signs of the favourable change, but it is not my business. Yesterday evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late on towards twelve. It seemed so dismal to go upstairs, with the wild snow blowing outside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the kirkyard and the new-made grave. I dared hardly lift my eyes from the page before me, that melancholy scene so instantly usurped its place. Hindley sat opposite, his head lent on his hand, perhaps meditating on the same subject. He had ceased drinking at a point below irrationality, and had neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours. There was no sound through the house, but the moaning wind which shook the windows every now and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and the click of my snuffers as I removed at intervals the long wick of the candle. Herton and Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed. It was very, very sad. And while I read, I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the world, never to be restored. The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen latch. Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual, owing, I suppose, to the sudden storm. That entrance was farcened, and we heard him coming round to get in by the other. I rose with an irrepressible expression of what I felt on my lips, which induced my companion, who had been staring towards the door, to turn and look at me. I'll keep him out five minutes, he exclaimed. You won't object. No, you may keep him out the whole night for me, I answered. Do put the key in the lock and draw the bolts. Earnshaw accomplished this ere his guest reached the front. He then came and brought his chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, and searching in my eyes for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed from his. As he both looked and felt like an assassin, he couldn't exactly find that. But he discovered enough to encourage him to speak. You and I, he said, have each a great debt to settle with the man-art yonder. If we were neither of us cowards, we might combine to discharge it.  Are you willing to endure to the last and not once attempt a repayment? I'm weary of enduring now, I replied, and I'd be glad of a retaliation that wouldn't recoil on myself. But treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends. They wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies. Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery and violence, cried Hindley. Mrs Heathcliff, I'll ask you to do nothing, but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now, can you? I'm sure you would have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion of the fiend's existence. He'll be your death unless you overreach him, and he'll be my ruin. Damn the hellish villain! He knocks at the door as if he were master here already. Promise to hold your tongue, and before that clock strikes, it wants three minutes of one.  He took the implements which I described you in my letter from his breast. And would have turned down the candle. I snatched it away, however, and seized his arm. I'll not hold my tongue, I said. You mustn't touch him. Let the door remain shut and be quiet. No, I've formed my resolution, and by God I'll execute it. Cried the desperate being. I'll do you a kindness in spite of yourself, and head and justice, and you needn't trouble your head to screen me. Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regret me, or be ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute, and it's time to make an end. I might as well have struggled with a bear, or reasoned with a lunatic. The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended victim of the fate which awaited him. You'd better seek shelter somewhere else tonight. I exclaimed, in rather a triumphant tone. Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you if you persist in endeavouring to enter. You'd better open the door, you— He answered, addressing me by some elegant term that I don't care to repeat. I shall not meddle in the matter. I retort it again. Come in and get short, if you please. I've done my duty. With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire, having too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command, to pretend any anxiety for the danger that men is to him. Earnshaw swore passionately at me, affirming that I love the villain yet, and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I have inst. And I, in my secret heart, and conscience never reproached me, thought what a blessing it would be for him, should Heathcliff put him out of misery. And what a blessing for me, should he send Heathcliff to his right abode.  The stanchion stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled, exulting in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp, cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wroth, gleamed through the dark. Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you repent. He gurned, as Joseph calls it. I cannot commit murder, I replied. Mr. Hindley stands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol. Let me in by the kitchen door, he said. Hindley will be there before me, I answered. And that's a poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow. We were left at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon shone, but the moment a blast of winter returns you must run for shelter.  The world is surely not worth living in now, is it? You had distinctly impressed on me the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your life. I can't imagine how you think of surviving her loss. He's there, is he? exclaimed my companion, rushing to the gap. If I can get my arm out, I can hit him. I'm afraid, Ellen, you'll set me down as really wicked, but you don't know all, so don't judge. I wouldn't have aided or abetted an attempt on even his life for anything. Wish that he were dead, I must, and therefore I was fearfully disappointed and unnerved by terror for the consequences of my taunting speech when he flung himself on Earnshaw's weapon and wrenched it from his grasp. The charge exploded, and the knife in springing back closed into its owner's wrist. Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up the flesh as it passed on, and thrust it, dripping into his pocket. He then took a stone, struck down the division between two windows, and sprang in. His adversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain and the flow of blood that gushed from an artery or a large vein. The ruffian kicked and trampled on him, and dashed his head repeatedly against the flags. Holding me with one hand meantime to prevent me summoning Joseph. He exerted preter human self-denial in abstaining from finishing him completely, but getting out of breath he finally desisted and dragged the apparently inanimate body onto the settle. There he tore off the sleeve of Earnshaw's coat and bound up the wound with brutal roughness, spitting and cursing during the operation as energetically as he had kicked before. Being at liberty I lost no time in seeking the old servant, who, having gathered by degrees the purport of my hasty tale, hurried below, gasping as he descended the steps to at once. What is there to do now? What is there to do now? There's this to do. Then did he, Scliffe? That your master's mad, and should he last another month I'll have him to an asylum.  Don't stand muttering and mumbling there. Come, I'm not going to nurse him. Wash that stuff away, and mind the sparks of your candle, it's more than half brandy. And so you've been murdering on him. Exclaim Joseph, lifting his hands and eyes in horror. If ever I see the sea like this, may the Lord— Heathcliffe gave him a push onto his knees in the middle of the blood, and flung a towel to him. But instead of proceeding to dry it up, he joined his hands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter from its odd phraseology. I was in the condition of mind to be shocked at nothing. In fact, I was as reckless as some malefactors show themselves at the foot of the gallows. Oh, I forgot you, said the tyrant. You shall do that, down with you, and you conspire with him against me. Do your viper. There that is work fit for you. He shook me till my teeth rattled, and pitched me beside Joseph, who steadily concluded his supplications, and then rose, vowing he would set off for the Grange directly. Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he had fifty wives dead, he should inquire into this. He was so obstinate in his resolution that Heathcliffe deemed it expedient to compel from my lips a recapitulation of what had taken place. Standing over me, heaving with malevolence, as I reluctantly delivered the account in answer to his questions. It required a great deal of labour to satisfy the old man that Heathcliffe was not the aggressor, especially with my hardly wrong replies. However, Mr. Earnshaw soon convinced him that he was alive still. Joseph hastened to administer a dose of spirits, and by their succour his master presently regained motion and consciousness. Heathcliffe, aware that his opponent was ignorant of the treatment received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated, and said that he should not notice his atrocious conduct further, but advised him to get to bed. To my joy he left us after giving this judicious counsel, and Hindley stretched himself on the hearthstone. I departed to my own room, marvelling that I had escaped so easily. This morning when I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr. Earnshaw was sitting by the fire, deadly sick. His evil genius almost as gaunt and ghastly lint against the chimney. Neither appeared inclined to dine, and having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced alone. Nothing hindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced a certain sense of satisfaction and superiority, as at intervals I cast a look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of a quiet conscience within me. After I had done, I ventured on the unusual liberty of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw's seat and kneeling in the corner beside him. Heathcliffe did not glance my way, and I gazed up and contemplated his features almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone. His forehead that I once thought so manly, and that I now think so diabolical, was shaded with a heavy cloud. His basilisk eyes were nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping perhaps, for the lashes were wet then. His lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In his case I was gratified, and ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I couldn't miss this chance of sticking in a dart. His weakness was the only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong. Five, five, miss, I interrupted.   It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to his. In general I'll allow that it would be, Ellen, she continued. But what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand in it. I'd rather he suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings, and he might know that I was the cause. Or I owe him so much. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is if I may take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, for every wrench of agony return a wrench. Reduce him to my level. As he was the first to injure, make him the first to implore pardon. And then, why then, Ellen, I might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I handed him a glass, and asked him how he was. Not as ill as I wish, he replied. But leaving out my arm every inch of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with a legion of imps. Yes, no wonder was my next remark. Catherine used to boast that she stood between you and bodily harm. She meant that certain persons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It's well people don't really rise from their grave, or last night she might have witnessed a repulsive scene. Are not you bruised and cut over your chest and shoulders? I can't say, he answered. But what do you mean? Did he dare to strike me when I was down?   Mr. Earnshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe, who, absorbed in his anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him. The longer he stood, the planer his reflections revealed their blackness through his features.  Grown the impatient man, writhing to rise and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the struggle. Nay, it's enough that he has murdered one of you, I observed aloud. At the Grange everyone knows your sister would have been living now, had it not been for Mr. Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were, how happy Catherine was before he came, I'm fit to curse the day. Most likely Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes reigned down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me. The fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.  I guessed he uttered those words at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible. I beg your pardon, I replied, but I loved Catherine too, and her brother requires a tendence which for her sake I shall supply. Now that she's dead, I see her in Hindley.  He cried, making a movement that caused me to make one also. But then I continued, holding myself ready to flee. If poor Catherine had trusted you and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible, degrading title of Mrs. Heathcliff, she would soon have presented a similar picture. She wouldn't have borne your abominable behaviour quietly. Her detestation and disgust must have found voice. The back of the settle and Earnshaw's person interposed between me and him. So instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner-knife from the table and flung it at my head. It struck beneath my ear, and stopped the sentence I was uttering, but pulling it out I sprang to the door and delivered another, which I hope went a little deeper than his missile. The last glimpse I caught of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the embrace of his host, and both fell locked together on the hearth. In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph speed to his master. I knocked over Herton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway, and, blessed as a soul escaped from purgatory, I bound it, leaped, and flew down the steep road, then quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks and wading through marshes, precipitating myself, in fact, towards the beacon light of the Grange. And far rather would I be condemned to a perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions than even for one night abide beneath the roof of Wuthering Heights again. Isabella ceased speaking, and took a drink of tea. Then she rose, and bidding me put on her bonnet and the great shawl I had brought, and turning a deaf ear to my entreaties for her to remain another hour, she stepped on to a chair, kissed Edgar's and Catherine's portraits, bestowed a similar salute on me, and descended to the carriage, accompanied by Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her mistress. She was driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood, but a regular correspondence was established between her and my master, when things were more settled. I believe her newer bold was in the south, near London. There she had a son born a few months subsequent to her escape. He was christened Linton, and from the first she reported him to be an ailing, peevish creature. Mr. Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where she lived. I refused to tell. He remarked that it was not of any moment, only she must beware of coming to her brother. She should not be with him if he had to keep her himself. Though I would give no information, he discovered through some of the other servants, both her place of residence and the existence of the child. Still he didn't molester, for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose. He often asked about the infant when he saw me. And on hearing its name, smiled grimly, and observed, They wished me to hate it too, do they? I don't think they wish you to know anything about it, I answered. But I'll have it, he said. When I want it, they may reckon on that. Fortunately its mother died before the time arrived. Some thirteen years after the decease of Catherine, when Linton was twelve for a little more. On the day succeeding Isabella's unexpected visit, I had no opportunity of speaking to my master. He shunned conversation and was fit for discussing nothing. When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased him that his sister had left her husband, whom he abhorred with an intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion, that he refrained from going anywhere where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff. Grief and that together transformed him into a complete hermit. He threw up his office of magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided the village on all occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his park and grounds. Only varied by solitary rambles on the moors, and visits to the grave of his wife, mostly at evening or early morning before other wanderers were abroad. But he was too good to be thoroughly unhappy long. He didn't pray for Catherine's soul to haunt him. Time brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than common joy. He recalled her memory with ardent tender love, and hopeful aspiring to the better world, where he doubted not she was gone. And he had earthly consolation and affections also. For a few days I said he seemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed. That coldness melted as fast as snow in April, and there the tiny thing could stammer a word or totter a step. It wielded a despot scepter in his heart. It was named Catherine, but he never called it the name in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short, probably because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always Cathy. It formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection with her, and his attachment sprang from its relation to her far more than from its being his own. I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplexed myself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in similar circumstances. They had both been fond husbands, and were both attached to their children, and I could not see how they shouldn't both have taken the same road for good or evil. But I thought in my mind Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and the weaker man. When his ship struck, the captain abandoned his post, and the crew, instead of trying to savor, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul. He trusted God, and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other dispaired. They chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them. But you'll not want to hear my moralising, Mr. Lockwood. You'll judge as well as I can all these things. At least you'll think you will, and that's the same. The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected. It followed fast on his sisters. There were scarcely six months between them. We at the Grange never got a very succinct account of his state preceding it. All that I did learn was on occasion of going to aid in the preparations for the funeral. Mr. Kenneth came to announce the event to my master. Well, Nelly, said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news. It's yours and my turn to go into mourning at present. Who's given us the slip now, do you think? Who, I asked in a flurry. What, I guess? He returned dismounting, and slinging his bridle on a hook by the door. And nip up the corner of your apron. I'm certain you'll need it. Not, Mr. Heathcliff, surely, I exclaimed. What, would you have tears for him? said the doctor. No, Heathcliff's a tough young fellow. He looks blooming today. I've just seen him. He's rapidly regaining flesh, since he lost his better half. Who is it, then, Mr. Kenneth? I repeated impatiently. Indley Earnshaw, your old friend, Indley, he replied, and my wicked gossip, though he's been too wild for me this long while. There, I said we should draw water, but cheer up, he died true to his character, drunk as a lord. Poor lad, I'm sorry too.  Is barely twenty-seven, it seems. That's your own age. Who would have thought you were born in one year? I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton's death. Ancient associations lingered round my heart. I sat down in the porch and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr. Kenneth to get another servant to introduce him to the master. I could not hinder myself from pondering on the question had he had fair play. Whatever I did that idea would bother me. It was so tiresomely pertinacious that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights, and assist in the last duties to the dead. Mr. Linton was extremely reluctant to consent, but I pleaded eloquently for the friendless condition in which he lay. And I said my old master and foster brother had a claim on my services as strong as his own. Besides, I reminded him that the child Hayton was his wife's nephew, and in the absence of nearer kin, he ought to act as its guardian, and he ought to and most inquire how the property was left, and look over the concerns of his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to such matters then, but he bid me speak to his lawyer, and at length permitted me to go. His lawyer had been unsure also. I called at the village and asked him to accompany me. He shook his head, and advised that Heathcliff should be let alone, affirming if the truth were known, Hayton would be found little else than a beggar. His father died in debt. He said, The whole property is mortgaged, and the sole chance for the natural air is to allow him an opportunity of creating some interest in the creditor's heart, that he may be inclined to deal leniently towards him. When I reached the Heights, I explained that I had come to see everything carried on deep. I had come to see everything carried on decently, and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress, expressed satisfaction at my presence. Mr Heathcliff said he did not perceive that I was wanted, but I might stay and order the arrangements for the funeral if I chose. Correctly, he remarked, That fool's body should be buried at the crossroads without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the two doors of the house against me, and he had spent the night in drinking himself to death deliberately. We broke in this morning, for we heard him sporting like a horse, and there he was, laid over the settle, flaying and scalping would not have awakened him. I sent for Kenneth, and he came, but not till the beast had changed into carrion. It was both dead and cold and stark, and so you'll allow it was useless making more stir about him. The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered, I'd rather he'd gone in self at doctor. I should have ten, ten up master, better nor him, and he weren't dead when I left, not sought. I insisted on the funeral being respectable. Mr Heathcliff said I might have my own way there too, only he desired me to remember that the money for the whole affair came out of his pocket. He maintained a hard, careless deportment, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow. If anything it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult work successfully executed. I observed once indeed something like exultation in his aspect. It was just when the people were bearing the coffin from the house. He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner, and previous to following with Herton, he lifted the unfortunate child onto the table, and muttered with peculiar gusto, Now, my bonny lad, you are mine, and we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it. The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this speech. It played with Heathcliff's whiskers and stroked his cheek, but I divined its meaning and observed tartly. That boy must go back with me to Thrushcross Grange, sir. There is nothing in the world less yours than he is. Does Linton say so? He demanded. Of course, he has ordered me to take him, I replied. Well, said the scoundrel, we'll not argue the subject now, but I have a fancy to try my hand, rearing a young one, so intimate to your master that I must supply the place of this, with my own, if he attempt to remove it. I don't engage to let head and go undisputed, but I'll be pretty sure to make the other come. Remember to tell him. This hint was enough to bind our hands. I repeated its substance on my return, and Edgar Linton, little interested at the commencement, spoke no more of interfering. I'm not aware that he could have done it to any purpose, had he been ever so willing. The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights. He held firm possession, and proved to the attorney, who in his turn proved it to Mr. Linton, that Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned, for cash to supply his mania for gaming, and he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In that manner, Herton, who should now be the first gentleman in the neighbourhood, was reduced to a state of complete dependence on his father's inveterate enemy, and lives in his own house as a servant, deprived of the advantage of wages, quite unable to write himself because of his friendlessness, and his ignorance that he has been wronged. End of Chapter 17 Recording by Ruth Golding Chapter 18 of Wuthering Heights This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Ruth Golding Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 18 The twelve years continued Mrs. Dean, following that dismal period, were the happiest of my life. My greatest troubles in their passage rose from our little lady's trifling illnesses, which she had to experience in common with all children, rich and poor. For the rest, after the first six months, she grew like a larch, and could walk and talk, too, in her own way, before the Heath blossomed a second time over Mrs. Linton's dust. She was the most winning thing that ever brought sunshine into a desolate house, a real beauty in face, with the urn-shore's handsome dark eyes, but the Linton's fair skin and small features, and yellow curling hair. Her spirit was high, though not rough, and qualified by a heart sensitive and lively to excess in its affections. That capacity for intense attachments reminded me of her mother. Still, she did not resemble her, for she could be soft and mild as a dove, and she had a gentle voice and pensive expression. Her anger was never furious, her love never fierce, it was deep and tender. However, it must be acknowledged she had faults to foil her gifts.  If a servant chanced to vex her, it was always, I shall tell papa! And if he reproved her even by a look, you would have thought it a heart-breaking business. I don't believe he ever did speak a harsh word to her. He took her education entirely on himself, and made it an amusement. Fortunately curiosity and a quick intellect made her an apt scholar. She learned rapidly and eagerly, and did honour to his teaching. Till she reached the age of thirteen, she had not once been beyond the range of the park by herself. Mr. Linton would take her with him a mile or so outside on rare occasions, but he trusted her to no one else. Gimmeton was an unsubstantial name in her ears, the chapel the only building she had approached or entered except her own home. Wuthering heights and Mr. Heathcliff did not exist for her, she was a perfect recluse, and apparently perfectly contented. Sometimes, indeed, while surveying the country from her nursery window, she would observe— Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those hills? I wonder what lies on the other side. Is it the sea? No, Miss Cathy, I would answer. It is hills again just like these. And what are those golden rocks like when you stand under them? She once asked. The abrupt descent of Peniston crags particularly attracted her notice, especially when the setting sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape besides lay in shadow. I explained that they were bare masses of stone, with hardly enough earth in their cleft to nourish a stunted tree. And why they bright so long after it is evening here? She pursued. Because they are a great deal higher up than we are, replied I. You could not climb them, they're too high and steep. In winter the frost is always there before it comes to us, and deep into summer I have found snow under that black hollow on the northeast side. Oh, you have been on them! she cried gleefully. Then I can go too when I am a woman. Has Papa been, Ellen? Papa would tell you, Miss, I answered hastily, that they are not worth the trouble of visiting. The moors where you rumble with him are much nicer, and Thrushcross Park is the finest place in the world. But I know the park, and I don't know those, she murmured to herself. And I should delight to look round me from the brow of that tallest point.   She teased Mr. Linton about it, and he promised she should have the journey when she got older. But Miss Catherine measured her age by months, and—now am I old enough to go to Peniston crags? Was the constant question in her mouth. The road did her wound close by a withering heights. Edgar had not the heart to pass it. So she received, as constantly, the answer. Not yet, love. Not yet. I said Mrs. Heathcliff lived above a dozen years after quitting her husband. A family were of a delicate constitution. She and Edgar both lacked the ruddy health that you will generally meet in these parts. What her last illness was, I am not certain. I conjecture they died of the same thing—a kind of fever, slow at its commencement, but incurable, and rapidly consuming life towards the close. She wrote to inform her brother of the probable conclusion of her four months in disposition under which she had suffered, and entreated him to come to her, if possible, for she had much to settle, and she wished to bid him adieu, and deliver Linton safely into his hands. Her hope was that Linton might be left with him as he had been with her. His father, she would feign, convince herself had no desire to assume the burden of his maintenance or education. My master hesitated not a moment in complying with her request. Reluctant as he was to leave home at ordinary calls, he flew to answer this, commanding Catherine to my peculiar vigilance in his absence, with reiterated orders that she must not wander out of the park, even under my escort. He did not calculate on her going unaccompanied. It was away three weeks. The first day or two my charge sat in a corner of the library, too sad for either reading or playing. In that quiet state she caused me little trouble, but it was succeeded by an interval of impatient, fretful weariness, and being too busy and too old then to run up and down amusing her, I hit on a method by which she might entertain herself. I used to send her on her travels round the grounds, now on foot and now on a pony, indulging her with a patient audience of all her real and imaginary adventures when she returned. The summer shone in full prime, and she took such a taste for this solitary rambling that she often contrived to remain out from breakfast till tea, and then the evenings were spent in recounting her fanciful tales. I did not fear her breaking bounds, because the gates were generally locked, and I thought she would scarcely venture forth alone if they had stood wide open. Unluckily my confidence proved misplaced. Catherine came to me one morning at eight o'clock, and said she was that day an Arabian merchant going to cross the desert with his caravan, and I must give her plenty of provision for herself and beasts, a horse and three camels, personated by a large hound and a couple of pointers. I got together good store of dainties, and slung them in a basket on one side of the saddle, and she sprang up as gay as a fairy, sheltered by a wide-brimmed hat and gore's veil from the July sun, and trotted off with a merry laugh, mocking my cautious counsel to avoid galloping, and come back early. The naughty thing never made her appearance at tea. One traveller, the hound, being an old dog and fond of its ease, returned, but neither Catherine nor the pony nor the two pointers were visible in any direction. I dispatched emissaries down this path and that path, and at last went wandering in search of her myself. There was a labourer working at a fence round a plantation on the borders of the grounds. I inquired of him if he had seen our young lady. I saw her at morn, he replied. She would have me to cut her a hazel switch, and then she leapt her gallow way over the hegeonder where it is lowest, and galloped out of sight. You may guess how I felt at hearing this news. It struck me directly she must have started for Peniston crags. What will become of her? I ejaculated, pushing through a gap which the man was repairing, and making straight to the high-road. I walked as if for a wager, mile after mile, till a turn brought me in view of the heights. But no Catherine could I detect far or near. The crags lie about a mile and a half beyond Mr Heathcliff's place, and that is far from the Grange, so I began to fear night would fall ere I could reach them. What if she should have slipped in clumbering among them? I reflected, and been killed, or broken some of her bones. My suspense was truly painful, and at first it gave me delightful relief to observe, in hurrying by the farmhouse, Charlie, the fiercest of the pointers, lying under a window with swelled head and bleeding ear. I opened the wicket and ran to the door, knocking vehemently for admittance. A woman whom I knew, and who formerly lived at Gimerton, answered, she had been servant there since the death of Mr Earnshaw. Ah, said she, you're coming as seeking your little mistress. Don't be frightened, she's here safe, but I'm glad it isn't the master. He's not at home, then, is he? I panted, quite breathless with quick walking and alarm. No, no, she replied. Both he and Joseph are off, and I think they won't return this hour or more. Step in and rest you a bit. I entered, and beheld my stray lamb, seated on the hearth, rocking herself in a little chair that had been her mother's when a child. Her heart was hung against the wall, and she seemed perfectly at home, laughing and chattering, in the best spirits imaginable, to Herton, now a great, strong lad of 18, who stared at her with considerable curiosity and astonishment, comprehending precious little of the fluent succession of remarks and questions which her tongue never ceased pouring forth. Very well, Miss, I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angry countenance. This is your last ride till papa comes back. I'll not trust you over the threshold again, you naughty, naughty girl. Aha, Ellen! she cried gaily, jumping up and running to my side. I shall have a pretty story to tell to-night, and so you found me out. Have you ever been here in your life before? Put that hat on and home at once, said I. I'm dreadfully grieved at you, Miss Cathy. You've done extremely wrong. It's no use pouting and crying that won't repay the trouble I've had scouring the country after you. To thank how Mr. Linton charged me to keep you in, and you stealing off so. It shows you are a cunning little fox, and nobody will put faith in you any more. What have I done? sobbed she, instantly checked. Papa charged me nothing. He'll not scold me, Ellen. He's never crossed like you. Come, come! I repeated. I'll tie the ribboned. Now let us have no petulance. Oh, for shame you, thirteen years old, and such a baby! This exclamation was caused by her pushing the hat from her head, and retreating to the chimney out of my reach. Nay, said the servant, don't be hard on the bonnilasmus esteem. We made her stop. She'd faint of ridden forward, so feared you should be uneasy. Herten offered to go with her, and I thought he should. It's a wild road over the hills. Herten, during the discussion, stood with his hands in his pockets, too awkward to speak, though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion. How long am I to wait? I continued disregarding the woman's interference. It will be dark in ten minutes. Where is the pony, Miss Cathy, and where is Phoenix? I shall leave you, unless you be quick, so please yourself. The pony is in the yard, she replied, and Phoenix is shut in there. He's bitten, and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all about it, but you're in a bad temper, and don't deserve to hear. I picked up her hat and approached to reinstate it, but, perceiving that the people of the house took her part, she commenced capering round the room, and on my giving chase ran like a mouse over and under and behind the furniture, rendering it ridiculous for me to pursue. Herten and the woman laughed, and she joined them, and waxed more impertinent still, till I cried in great irritation. Well, Miss Cathy, if you were aware whose house this is, you'd be glad enough to get out. It's your father's, isn't it? said she, turning to Herten. Nay, he replied, looking down and blushing bashfully. It could not stand a steady gaze from her eyes, though they were just his own. Who's then, your masters? she asked. A colour deeper, with a different feeling, muttered an oath and turned away. Who is his master? continued the tiresome girl, appealing to me. He talked about our house and our folk. I thought he'd been the owner's son, and he never said Miss. He should have done, shouldn't he, if he's a servant? Herten grew black as a thunder-cloud at this childish speech. I silently shook my questioner, and at last succeeded in equipping her for departure. Now get my horse, she said, addressing her unknown kinsman, as she would one of the stable boys at the Grange. And you may come with me. I want to see where the goblin-hunter rises in the marsh, and to hear about the fairies, as you call them. But make haste. What's the matter? Get my horse, I say. I'll see the dam before I be thy servant, growled the land. You'll see me what? asked Catherine in surprise.  There, Miss Cathy, you see you have got into pretty company. I interposed. Nice words to be used to a young lady. Pray don't begin to dispute with him. Come, let us seek for many ourselves, and be gone. But Ellen! cried she, staring fixed in astonishment. How dare he speak so to me! Mustn't he be made to do, as I ask him? You wicked creature, I shall tell Papa what you said. Now, then. Herton did not appear to feel this threat, so the tears sprang into her eyes with indignation. You bring the pony, she exclaimed, turning to the woman, and let my dog free this moment. Softly, Miss, answered she, addressed. You'll lose nothing by being civil. Though Mr. Herton there be not the master's son, he's your cousin, and I was never hired to serve you. He, my cousin, cried Cathy with a scornful laugh. Yes, indeed, responded her reprover. Oh, Ellen, don't let them say such things! she pursued in great trouble. Papa is gone to fetch my cousin from London. My cousin is a gentleman's son. That might, she stopped and wept outright, upset at the bare notion of relationship with such a clown. Hush, hush, I whispered. People can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it. Only they needn't keep their company if they be disagreeable and bad. He's not! He's not, my cousin, Ellen! She went on, gathering fresh grief from reflection, and flinging herself into my arms for refuge from the idea. I was much vexed at her and the servant for their mutual revelations, having no doubt of Linton's approaching arrival, communicated by the former, being reported to Mr. Heathcliff, and feeling as confident that Catherine's first thought on her father's return would be to seek an explanation of the latter's assertion concerning her ruled-bread kindred. Herton, recovering from his disgust at being taken for a servant, seemed moved by her distress, and having fetched the pony round to the door, he took to propitiate her a fine crooked leg terrier-welt from the kennel, and putting it into her hand, bit her waist for a mint-naught. Pausing in her lamentations, she surveyed him with a glance of awe and horror, then burst forth anew. I could scarcely refrain from smiling at this antipathy to the poor fellow, who was a well-made, athletic youth, good-looking in features and stout and healthy, but tired in garments befitting his daily occupations of working on the farm and lounging among the moors after rabbits and game. Still, I thought I could detect in his physiognomy a mind-owning better qualities than his father ever possessed. Good things lost amid a wilderness of weeds to be sure, whose rankness far overtopped their neglected growth, yet not withstanding evidence of a wealthy soil that might yield luxuriant crops under other and favourable circumstances. Mr. Heathcliff, I believe, had not treated him physically ill, thanks to his fearless nature which offered no temptation to that course of oppression. He had none of the timid susceptibility that would have given zest to ill treatment in Heathcliff's judgment. He appeared to have bent his malevolence on the ground, he appeared to have bent his malevolence on making him a brute. He was never taught to read or write, never rebuked for any bad habit which did not annoy his keeper, never led a single step towards virtue, or guarded by a single precept against vice. And from what I heard, Joseph contributed much to his deterioration by a narrow-minded partiality which prompted him to flatter and pet him as a boy, because he was the head of the old family. And as he had been in the habit of accusing Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff when children of putting the master past his patience, and compelling him to seek solace in drink by what he termed their offalled ways, so at present he laid the whole burden of Herton's faults on the shoulders of the usurper of his property. If the lad swore he wouldn't correct him, nor however culpably he behaved. It gave Joseph satisfaction, apparently, to watch him go the worst lengths. He allowed that the lad was ruined, that his soul was abandoned to perdition, but then he reflected that Heathcliff must answer for it. Herton's blood would be required at his hands, and there lay immense consolation in that thought. Joseph had instilled into him a pride of name and of his lineage. He would had he dared a fostered hate between him and the present owner of the Heights, but his dread of that owner amounted to superstition, and he confined his feelings regarding him to muttered innuendos and private combinations. I don't pretend to be intimately acquainted with the mode of living customary in those days at Wuthering Heights. I only speak from hearsay, for I saw little. The villagers affirmed Mr. Heathcliff was near, and a cruel hard landlord to his tenants, but the house inside had regained its ancient aspect of comfort under female management, and the scenes of riot common in Hindley's time were not now enacted within its walls. The master was too gloomy to seek companionship with any people, good or bad, and he is yet. This, however, is not making progress with my story. Ms. Cuthey rejected the peace offering of the Terrier, and demanded her own dogs, Charlie and Phoenix. They came limping and hanging their heads, and were set out for home, sadly out of sorts, every one of us. I could not ring from my little lady how she had spent the day, except that, as I supposed, the goal of her pilgrimage was Peniston crags, and she arrived without adventure to the gate of the farmhouse, when Herton happened to issue forth, attended by some canine followers who attacked her train. They had a smart battle before their owners could separate them. That formed an introduction. Catherine told Herton who she was, and where she was going, and asked him to show her the way, finally beguiling him to accompany her. He opened the mysteries of the Fairy Cave and twenty other queer places. But, being in disgrace, I was not favoured with a description of the interesting objects she saw. I could gather, however, that her guide had been a favourite, till she hurt his feelings by addressing him as a servant, and Heathcliff's housekeeper hurt hers by calling him her cousin. Then the language she had held to are rankled in her heart. She, who was always love, and darling, and queen, and angel, with everybody at the Grange, to be insulted so shockingly by a stranger. She did not comprehend it, and hard work I had to obtain a promise that she would not lay the grievance before her father. I explained how he objected to the whole household at the heights, and how sorry he would be to find she had been there. But I insisted most on the fact that if she revealed my negligence of his orders, he would perhaps be so angry that I should have to leave. And Cathy could not bear that prospect. She pledged her word and kept it, for my sake. After all, she was a sweet little girl. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Chapter 19 A letter edged with black announced the day of my master's return. Isabella was dead, and he wrote to bid me get morning 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, and indulged most sanguine anticipations of the innumerable excellencies of her real cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came. Since early morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs, and now attired in her new black frock. Poor thing, her aunt's death impressed her with no definite sorrow. She obliged me by constant worrying to walk with her down through the grounds to meet them. Linton is just six months younger than I am. She chattered, as we strolled leisurely over the swells and hollows of mossy turf, under shadow of the trees. How delightful it will be to have him for a play-fellow! Auntie Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair. It was lighter than mine, more flaxen and quite as fine. I have it carefully preserved in a little glass box, and I've often thought what a pleasure it 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 footsteps reached the gate. And then she seated herself on the grassy bank beside the path, and tried to wait patiently. But that was impossible. She couldn't be still a minute. How long they are! she exclaimed. Ah! I see some dust on the road! They're coming. No. When will they be here? May we not go a little way half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say yes, to that crump of birches at the turn. I refused staunchly. At length her suspense was ended, the travelling carriage rolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked and stretched out her arms as soon as she caught her father's face looking from the window. He descended nearly as eager as herself, and a considerable interval elapsed there they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. While they exchanged caresses, I took a peeping to see after Linton. It was a sleep in a corner wrapped in a warm fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for my master's younger brother so as strong was the resemblance. But there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had. The latter saw me looking, and having shaken hands advised me to close the door and leave him undisturbed, for the journey had fatigued him. Cathy would feign have taken one glance, but her father told her to come, and they walked together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare the servants. Now, darling, said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted at the bottom of the front steps. Your cousin is not so strong or so merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time since. Therefore, don't expect him to play and run about with you directly. And don't harass him much by talking. Let him be quiet this evening, at least, will you? Yes, yes, papa! answered Catherine. But I do want to see him, and he hasn't once looked out. The carriage stopped, and the sleeper being roused was lifted to the ground by his uncle. This is your cousin Cathy, Linton. He said, putting their little hands together.  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's salute, and he put his fingers to remove incipient tears. Come, come, there's a good child. I whispered, leading him in. You'll make her week two, see how sorry she is for you. I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad accountenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to remove Linton's cup and mantel, and placed him on a chair by the table. But he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired what was the matter. I can't sit on a chair! sobbed the boy.  Answered his uncle patiently. He had been greatly tried during the journey. I felt convinced by his fretful ailing charge.  Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to his side. At first she sat silent, but that could not last. She had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be.  This pleased him, for it was not much better. He dried his eyes and lightened into a faint smile. Oh, he'll do very well! said the master to me after watching them a minute. Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen! The company of a child of his own age will instill new spirit into him soon, and by wishing for strength he'll gain it. I, if we can keep him, amused to myself, and saw misgivings came over me, that there was slight hope of that. And then I thought, however will that weakling live at withering heights, between his father and head and what playmates and instructors they'll be. Our doubts were presently decided, even earlier than I expected. I had just taken the children upstairs after tea was finished, and seen Linton asleep. He would not suffer me to leave until that was the case. I had come down, and was standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle for Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen, and informed me that Mr. Heathcliff's servant Joseph was at the door, and wished to speak with the master. I shall ask him what he wants first, I said in considerable trepidation. A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the instant they have returned from a long journey, I don't think the master can see him. Joseph had advanced through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and now presented himself in the hall. He was donned in his Sunday garments with his most sanctimonious and sourest face, and holding his hat in one hand and his stick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on the mat. Good evening, Joseph, I said coldly. What business brings you here to-night? It's Mr. Lenton, I'm inspected, too. He answered, waving me disdainfully aside. Mr. Lenton 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 in there and entrust your message to me. Which is his arm? Pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closed doors. I perceived he was bent on refusing my mediation, so very reluctantly I went up to the library and announced the unseasonable visitor, advising that he should be dismissed till next day. Mr. Lenton had no time to empower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my heels, and pushing into the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the table, with his two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began in an elevated tone as if anticipating opposition. Earthcliff has sent me for his lad, and I won't go back about him. Edgar Lenton was silent a minute, an expression of exceeding sorrow overcast his features. He would have pitted the child on his own account, but recalling Isabella's hopes and fears and anxious wishes for her son, and her commendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly at the prospect of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might be avoided. No plan offered itself. The very exhibition of any desire to keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory. There was nothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going to rouse him from his sleep. Tell, Mr. Heathcliff, he answered calmly, that his son shall come to Wuthering Heights tomorrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go the distance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Lenton desired him to remain under my guardianship, and at present his health is very precarious. No, said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and assuming an authoritative air. No, that means not. Heathcliff makes no count of mother, no ye norther, but he'll owe his lad, and I am on tack him, so now you know. You shall not, to-night, answered Lenton decisively. Walk downstairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, show him down. Go! And aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of him, and closed the door.  To mourn his coming sound, and thrust him out, if you dare! To create the danger of this threat being fulfilled, Mr. Lenton commissioned me to take the boy home early on Catherine's pony, and said he, As we shall now have no influence over his destiny, good or bad, you must say nothing of where he has gone to my daughter. She cannot associate with him hereafter. And it is better for her to remain in ignorance of his proximity, lest she should be restless and anxious to visit the heights. Merely tell her his father sent for him suddenly, and he has been obliged to leave us. Lenton was very reluctant to be roused from his bed at five o'clock, and astonished to be informed that he must prepare for further travelling. But I softened off the matter by stating that he was going to spend some time with his father, Mr. Heathcliff, who wished to see him so much, he did not like to defer the pleasure till he should recover from his late journey. My father! he cried in strange perplexity. Mama never told me ahead of father. Where does he live? I'd rather stay with Uncle. He lives a little distance from the Grange, I replied, just beyond those hills, not so far, but you may walk over here when you get hearty. And you should be glad to go home and to see him. You must try to love him as you did your mother, and then he will love you. But why have I not heard of him before? asked Lenton. Why didn't Mama and he live together as other people do? He had business to keep him in the north, I answered, and your mother's health required her to reside in the south. And why didn't Mama speak to me about him? persevered the child. She often talked of Uncle, and I learned to love him long ago. How am I to love Papa? I don't know him. Oh, all children love their parents, I said. Your mother perhaps thought you would want to be with him, if she mentioned him often to you. Let us make haste. An early ride on such a beautiful morning is much preferable to an hour's more sleep. Is she to go with us? he demanded. The little girl I saw yesterday? Not now, replied I. Is Uncle? he continued. No, I shall be your companion there, I said. Lenton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown studdy. I won't go without Uncle! he cried at length. I can't tell where you mean to take me. I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meet his father. Still he obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and I had to call for my master's assistance in coaxing him out of bed. The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that his absent should be short, that Mr. Edgar and Kathy would visit him, and other promises equally ill-founded which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way. The pure, heather-scented air, the bright sunshine and the gentle canter of Mini relieved his despondency after a while. He began to put questions concerning his new home and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness. Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrush Cross Grange? he inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mist mounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue. It is not so buried in trees, I replied, and it is not quite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round, and the air is healthier for you, fresher and drier. You will perhaps think the building old and dark at first, though it is a respectable house, the next best in the neighbourhood. And you will have such nice rambles on the moors. Hair-to-nearnshore, that is Miss Kathy's other cousin, and so yours in a manner, will show you all the sweetest spots, and you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your study. And now and then your uncle may join you in a walk. It does frequently walk out on the hills. And what is my father like? he asked. Is he as young and handsome as uncle? He's as young, said I, but he has black hair and eyes and looks sterner, and he is taller and bigger altogether. He'll not seem to your so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way. Still mind you be frank and cordial with him, and naturally he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own. Black hair and eyes! news Blinton. I can't fancy him. Then I am not like him, am I? Not much, I answered. Not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes, his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, there had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.  Has he ever seen me? If he has, I must have been a baby, I remember not a single thing about him. Why, Master Linton, said I, three hundred miles is a great distance, and ten years seem very different in length to a grown-up person, compared with what they do to you. It is probable, Mr. Heathcliff proposed going from summer to summer, but never found a convenient opportunity, and now it is too late. Don't trouble him with questions on the subject. It will disturb him for no good. The boy was fully occupied with his own cogitations for the remainder of the ride, till we halted before the farmhouse garden gate. I watched to catch his impressions in his countenance. He surveyed the carved front and low-browed lattices, the straggling gooseberry bushes and crooked furs, with solemn intentness, and then shook his head. His private feelings entirely disapproved of the exterior of his newer bold. But he had sense to postpone complaining. There might be compensation within. Before he dismounted I went and opened the door. It was half past six. The family had just finished breakfast. The servant was clearing and wiping down the table. Joseph stood by his master's chair, telling some tale concerning a lame horse, and Herton was preparing for the hayfield. Hello, Nellie, said Mr. Heathcliff when he saw me. I feared I should have to come down and fetch my property myself. You've brought it, have you? Let us see what we can make of it. He got up and strode to the door. Herton and Joseph followed in gaping curiosity. Poor Linton ran afright and eye over the faces of the three. Surely, said Joseph, after a grave inspection, he swopped with his master and yoned his lass. Heathcliff, having stared his son into an ague of confusion, uttered a scornful laugh. God, what a beauty! What a lovely charming thing! he exclaimed. Haven't they reared it on snails and sour milk, Nellie? Oh, damn my soul, but that's worse than I expected, and the devil knows I was not sanguine. I bid the trembling and bewildered child get down and enter. It did not thoroughly comprehend the meaning of his father's speech, or whether it were intended for him. Indeed, he was not yet certain that the grim, sneering stranger was his father.   None of that nonsense. We're not going to hurt thee, Lenten. Isn't that thy name? Thou art thy mother's child entirely, whereas my share in thee, pooling chicken. He took off the boy's cap and pushed back his thick flaks and curls. Felt his slender arms and his small fingers, during which examination Lenten ceased crying and lifted his great blue eyes to inspect the inspector. Do you know me? asked Heathcliff, having satisfied himself that the limbs were all equally frail and feeble. No, said Lenten, with a gaze of vacant fear. You've heard of me, I dare say. No, he replied again.  You are my son, then, I'll tell you.  Now, don't wince and colour up. Though it is something to see you have not white blood. Be a good lad, and I'll do for you. Nellie, if you be tired, you may sit down. If not, get home again. I guess you'll report what you hear and see to the cipher at the Grange, and this thing won't be settled while you linger about it. Well, replied I, I hope you'll be kind to the boy, Mr Heathcliff, or you'll not keep him long. And is all you have akin in the wide world that you will ever know, remember? I'll be very kind to him, you needn't fear. He said laughing. Only nobody else must be kind to him. I'm jealous of monopolising his affection. And to begin, my kindness, Joseph, bring the lads some breakfast. Ayrton, you infernal calf begone to your work. Yes, Nell. He added when they had departed. My son is prospective owner of your place, and I should not wish him to die till I was certain of being his successor. Besides these mine, and I want the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates, my child hiring their children to till their father's land for wages. That is the sole consideration which can make me endure the welp. I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives. But that consideration is sufficient. He is as safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master tends his own. I have a room upstairs furnished for him in handsome style. I've engaged a tutor also to come three times a week, from twenty miles distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn. I have ordered Ayrton to obey him, and in fact I have arranged everything with a view to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the trouble, if I wished any blessing in the world it was to find him a worthy object of pride, and I am bitterly disappointed with the way-faced whining wretch. While he was speaking, Joseph returned bearing a basin of milk porridge, and placed it before Linton, who stirred round the homely mess with the look of a version, and affirmed he could not eat it. I saw the old man-servant shared largely in his master's scorn of the child, though he was compelled to retain the sentiment in his heart, because Eastcliff plainly meant his underlings to hold him in honour. Cannot eat it! repeated he, peering in Linton's face, and subduing his voice to a whisper, for fear of being overheard. But master Hatton never ate nor else, when he were a littlean, and what were good enough for him's good enough for ye, I'd rather think. I shan't eat it! answered Linton snappishly. Take it away! Joseph snatched up the food indignantly, and brought it to us. Is there are tales, the vickles? he asked, thrusting the tray under Heathcliff's nose. What should ale them? he said. Why? answered Joseph. Yon dainted chap says he cannot eat them, but I guess it's right. His mother were just so. We were our most two-mucket soaked corn for macking her breed.  Get him something he can eat, that's all. What is his usual food, nelly? I suggested boiled milk or tea, and the housekeeper received instructions to prepare some. Come, I reflected, his father's selfishness may contribute to his comfort. He perceives his delicate constitution and the necessity of treating him tolerably. I'll console Mr. Edgar by acquainting him with the turn Heathcliff's humour has taken. Having no excuse for lingering longer, I slipped out, while Linton was engaged, intimately rebuffing the advances of a friendly sheep-dog. But he was too much on the alert to be cheated. As I closed the door I heard a cry and a frantic repetition of the words, Don't leave me! I'll not stay here! I'll not stay here! Then the latch was raised and fell. They did not suffer him to come forth. I mounted Mini and urged her to a trot. And so my brief guardianship ended. End of Chapter 20. Recording by Ruth Golding


Moving with my mother was it was a totally different experience.  She left her family. She left her friends and you know, she was someone who worked in, she was a director at the General Hospital where she worked. Now she's the new person and she had to go through this accreditation process of basically passing exams. At this point, she's over 50. We slept on on the floor where we first came to the United States because we didn't have anything. We left everything behind and and we talked about this later and you know, she told me, she said at some point she only had a hundred dollars in her bank account. But she didn't, she had to pay rent. She had to make sure I needed, I didn't want for anything and I can't imagine how she probably fought the decision every single day looking at her bank account with a hundred dollars and her paycheck wasn't gonna come for another month. How was she going to survive? How was her daughter gonna survive and was it worth it? So I asked her the question. I said was it worth it? She said she would do it a hundred times over because she's seen how I have flourished as a person and she said this to me the other day. She said you're my idol.


Live from the Walt Disney World Swan and Dolphin Resort in Orlando, Florida, it's theCUBE. Covering Splunk.com 2016, brought to you by Splunk. Now, here are your hosts, John Furrier and John Walsh. And welcome back here on theCUBE, the flagship broadcast of SiliconANGLE TV where we extract the signal from the noise just for you at home. Live streaming here from Splunk.com 2016, live in Orlando, along with John Furrier. I'm John Walsh and we're joined by, if not the most popular guy at the show, certainly one of the busiest, no doubt about that Stan Alantani, who is the CTO at Splunk. Thanks for joining us, we appreciate the time. My ego is big enough, you're not helping. No, certainly not. I know, he didn't say you were handsome too, you were handsome. Very handsome. And charismatic and charming and all those things. First off, congratulations, great show. It's an amazing event. A lot of positive buzz. John and I have been talking about it quite a bit over the last couple of days. What's your take on what you see here and the vibe that you're getting from your partners and your customers and all the people here? Yeah, you know, Conf was all, I visited Conf as a customer and now I'm here as an employee. And Conf was always about bringing our engineers closer to the customers, our customers closer to the engineers. This is a technical group. This is about lessons learned, sharing ideas. And it's amazing because whenever I went to, when I was a CIO, other vendor events, most of the sessions were kind of marketing-y, very high level.  People would get really offended if they missed a session at Conf. It's just amazing because every session it's by the customer, for the customer, and level of just depth and knowledge sharing. And people don't want to miss sessions. I've never seen that in an event before. And the keynotes are packed too. Keynotes are absolutely packed. Even on a Wednesday morning or a Thursday morning, last day of the conference, it'll be absolutely packed tomorrow because it's all about content and it's all about, you said, customers teaching and telling things to other customers. And you've got a keynote tomorrow, so get a quick plug and tease us what's going to happen tomorrow on stage for your keynote. Yeah, well, so what's amazing is, Doug's opening keynote really talked about a few things. First was the evolution of going from a tool to becoming a platform to becoming a data fabric and the investments and things we've made in the product to help make that easier, both technically and from a user adoption standpoint. We then heard from the product. A little while for a second, let's just stop, there was a, that's not the way it's supposed to work. It's supposed to be a platform, then a tool, then a fabric. Yeah. But the world's upside down and you're winning. And we're winning. And I think that's what's amazing is we've always been very use case driven. And so the thing with Splunk is it's all about what problem are you trying to solve so we can land and fix that one problem. But then you realize that the data needed by IT to keep the systems up and running. Web, app, network, endpoint, identity, infrastructure, logs. That's the same data needed by security to hunt to breach. Is the same data that you can use to run the business in real time or you can use to catch fraud or do all these other use cases and scenarios. So we have this amazing ability to land in any one of these use cases and then systematically grow and expand the account across the entire enterprise. Okay, so I interrupted you. Doug said one, two, platform fabric. And then we learned about IT operations and security this morning and how we're disrupting those spaces. So tomorrow it's the art of the possible. It's all of the amazing use cases and the power of Splunk outside of IT and security. So I've got Robert Herjavec coming on stage from Shark Tank and he's going to talk about the lessons learned building a data-driven business. Because it really does come down to becoming a data-driven organization using data to make better decisions faster. And then I'm going to talk about how we take in retail analytics, want to sales data, digital marketing data, digital payments data to actually help drive better revenue for a donut shop, in this case for one of our customers. Stuff we're doing for the military, stuff we're doing in transportation analytics. So it's everything in business analytics and IOT. I want to get to your predictions later but I want to get and just drill on what you said and just kind of love coming to keep cause things just pop in my head and things I just connect the dots. Splunk has always had a nice way of kind of crafting the keynotes because it is a technical conference. Keynotes can be salesy. So you guys actually do a good job of theming it out. Doug the CEO, then the nuts and bolts of IT operations and then boom, the future. So I've got to ask you, one of the themes that I see over the years is covering Splunk is the creativity aspect of the community and the customer base because what Splunk has become today wasn't what it was supposed to do. It's kind of taking a new different trajectory granted higher. So the role of creativity of using Splunk in new use cases has come from the customers. Yeah. So that's a big part of this whole art of the possible. What are some of the new creative things that Splunk is obviously security is front and center but I mean, any new use cases, any creative things that you'd like to share? Yeah, there's a couple of pretty amazing ones. So what, let me tell you a personal story. Last year I told you a couple of personal stories. Let me tell you a personal story which I'll tell on stage tomorrow again and that is a starting point for some of the really cool use cases we're looking at thinking about today. So I was in London a couple of months ago at the Bond Street Tube Station. Getting out of the tube, going up the escalator, suddenly 200 people started stampeding behind me. Kicking, scratching, climb, climbing, panicking, working way up, there was a stampede and people thought there was an active shooter in the tube station. This is the day after Orlando, pretty, pretty, you know, everyone's already a bit edgy or on edge. So one, what happened? What's going on? Am I in danger? But I didn't know what was happening. But number two, my wife and my son who's only 18 months old and a stroller, they were behind me. They were supposed to be behind me, but turns out they ditched me. But if they were in a stroller behind me, that stroller would have been knocked over and I would have been in a very different situation today. So once I ascertained that they were safe, I got really angry and I got angry because the Wi-Fi access points knew 200 people were running in one direction. The micro location services could detect that there was a stampede in place. The sensors within the tube station could detect that there were shots fired or no shots fired or that there was bombs or no bombs. The machine data was there and we failed to connect the dots, draw a conclusion that there's no danger, broadcast out an alert saying, keep calm or more importantly, think of ways for people at risk that there's danger runs out. And so when I think about kind of the art of the possible and the really amazing use cases, it's the ability to connect the dots in all of those types of environmental sensors and data and then actually doing something about it. So we can transform first responders. We're doing some amazing stuff with the military. We're going to show off tomorrow around soldier health and optimized medical evacuation. It comes down to synthesizing the machine data through sensors with the digital data, with the Twitter feeds and so on to provide better situation. And the military, is that with uniforms and wood detection and that kind of thing? Yeah, absolutely. Well, that's a real scary story and wow, I'm like taken back by that. Great story. Thanks for sharing that. But that brings, let's get down and under the hood and kind of analyze that. What you're really talking about is different systems talking to each other in real time and getting the data in real time, extracting what it means in real time and prescribing solutions. I mean, that's just not possible. Or is it? It's, that's the art of the possible. It's the art of the possible. It's the art of the possible. But let's just pretend we were solving that problem. We had unlimited resource. Yeah, yeah. What would we do? So, we had to get the database. Well, I think step one is so let's structure the problem. So one of the issues I've always had is the distinction of structured versus unstructured data. I was always annoyed by this because the format of the data has very little to do with the insights and outcomes that are possible. Moreover, a mainframe log is actually really well structured, but we somehow declared it like unstructured. So the first thing I did was I rethought the data landscape from when I was a customer and even now. So I've got transactional data. So think Joe bought shoes or Joe deposited $10 in his account. It's relational. It's highly normalized. It's acid transactional semantics. It's a schema on right design. So you understand the columns or attributes. You've defined a schema for it. It's create, read, update, destroy type access patterns. That's what relational database technologies, data warehouses, BI systems are designed to go solid. And they're solid. And they're solid. They're really awesome at doing that job. Then you have all of the digital exhaust that's generated from processing that transaction. So if Joe bought shoes, the machine data says he stood in line for 20 minutes waiting to pay for those shoes. That comes from the Wi-Fi access points, the RFIDs, the point of sales data, the digital web logs and so on and so forth. Potentially even in this phone. From his phone. And that data is time series in nature. It's bucketized, which means you've got hot, warm, cool, cold buckets of data based on the age. It's eventually consistent because it's not a banking transaction. You ingest the data once, you read from it over and over again. It's schema on read, which means you don't know what question you're asking the data. So you keep the data in its original format for ad hoc analysis in real time. And maybe structure it later based on context. Exactly, structure it later based on context. And then the third class of data was all the enrichment data. Which was, so if Joe bought shoes, he stood in line for 20 minutes to pay for those shoes. Reference data says he's a high roller with 20,000 Twitter followers. I think like third party data feeds, it's document oriented, key value pair, so on and so forth. So step one is like, if you get out of the marketing hype of, you know, and actually look at the physics of each type of data that's out there, I'm kind of convinced that those are the three major types. I mean, computer science, I love this, it gets me geeking out, but there's data about data. What you're getting to is, let's get metadata about the metadata. So that's really kind of a new way to think about it. And you basically can get algorithms that kind of make decisions and prioritize and triage. Hey, this is a time series data, no longer in the time window, throw it away. So is that the thinking that's happening? Well, what step one is, understand what data you have. Transactional versus machine versus reference data. And Splunk, our focus is machine data, right? And that's what we're really good at. Step two is, thoughtfully connect the dots across your transactional data, your machine data, reference data to derive really interesting and actionable insights. And that's where we've evolved to as a company over the last year, with connectors to be able to get reference data, connectors to get transactional data, connect the dots and actually synthesize through machine learning. Step three though is, the ability to tell stories of that data to influence a decision. You do that through visualization, you do that through natural language. So we've done some pretty amazing stuff in the last years. Let me ask you, of course, as a CIO and a CTO now, a former CIO and now CTO, this comes down to the conversation of composite applications being built on the fly. So some patterns might emerge like a retail scenario that come out of this. Yeah. And then you productize it. Yep. You operationalize it. And you commercialize it. You find a way to use those insights, use your data as an asset to actually drive revenue. So this is cutting edge, right? This to me, this is a cutting edge use case. Okay. Let's kind of talk about another dynamic I want to give you a thought on because this is something that we've observed and we kind of said it for the first time publicly yesterday on theCUBE with the security SVP. Is that Splunk is kind of turning into, and I'll use the word, quote, social network. The employees in that place, the customers of Splunk are starting to form on their own these ad hoc networks amongst themselves and sharing data organically with each other for a better meant of the group. Yep. Which is very unusual in data worlds, but an interesting dynamic. Is that happening? Do you see that happening? Am I misreading that? And if it is happening, what's the impact of that?   Am I off base? Correct me, what's going on? So let's back up and let's understand what's happening in security today. The cost of a cyber attack is one-tenth to one-one-hundredth the cost of cyber defense because tools are highly automated and freely distributed. Compute is cheap because it's stolen and the attackers tend to come from countries whose labor rates are quite low. And we're on this unsustainable trajectory because we need to change the economics of cyber defense and reduce the cost of cyber defense by a thousand X. So how do you do that? Well, one is tremendous collaboration between public sector, academia, and private sector. We have to collaborate across those domains. In many ways, cutting the cost of cyber defense is the space race of my generation. We have to fundamentally change the economics and change that trajectory because this is becoming a pretty major nationally- It is the Kennedy moonshot, I mean, but that's a good point. So are they sharing? Yeah. They're doing more sharing. In security, the ability to act not as individual vendors in individual communities, but wisdom of crowds is absolutely the trend that we're seeing. How are they doing that with Splunk? I know we're running out of time and I want to get this on the table because this is a major, major story. It's a major story. One of the things we've done over last year is work very hard to make Splunk from a tool to a much more open and extensible platform with very thoughtful ways to use plugins, use APIs, use models that we've built as a starting point and you can start to build your own models, building a content distribution channel that allows our partners to create models and threat fees themselves and push it into the collection of customers that we have. Being able to build apps that we can build once, codify wisdom and then distribute. For example, the National Security Agency, the Information Assurance Directorate built an app called SAMI, which takes the top 10 network security recommendations, codifies it and they distribute it freely as an app in our app store for our Splunk customers to consume and see how they stack against the NSA's recommendations. So it is this tremendous collaboration that we are very intentionally trying to foster and collaborate. High-end calls us the Nerve Center. We're becoming not only the nerve center or the glue that binds all these sources of data together, but the command center as well as we see everything wing to wing. We're going to wrap up. I want to give you three predictions for this year. What are we going to see this year? So I told you two already, data storytelling is the last mile of analytics and our ability to tell stories of data, to make those insights actionable to help people make better decisions faster is number one. Number two is fundamentally change in the economics of cyber and there's a bunch of key programs in there. One is security analytics to help hunters hunt better, this idea of natural language to accelerate ramp to productivity. We saw Grant Wernick from Insights Engine show some of those capabilities down to moving target defense and deception and shape-shifting networks. Those really change the economics of cyber. And number three is IoT becomes a data source for business analytics. IoT starts to blur the lines between digital and physical with a revenue outcome in mind. And a security risk. And a security risk. And a security risk. That's exactly it. And at Splunk where we're so versatile in our core technology that we can start in any one of those scenarios and fundamentally disrupt across the board. Well, I'm really excited. I love the cyber line about the space race of your generation. But you dropped another one on us before we began that Splunk is the Harley Davidson of IT.  So Harley Davidson is the only company in the world whose brand is so powerful, people tattoo their logo on their body.  All right, I'm not going to ask to see yours. He's got a hidden, you won't go there. Say hello, thank you. Thank you. Appreciate it. Congratulations on a great conference. Thanks for the support. I really appreciate it. You guys have been here since the beginning. So I'm very excited. I'm proud of it. I love the relationship. Thank you. We continue here live from Orlando here on theCUBE back before just a bit.