Wuthering Heights | Page 7

about in.
Do you know that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People
familiar with these moors often miss their road on such evenings; and I
can tell you there is no chance of a change at present.'
'Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might stay at the
Grange till morning - could you spare me one?'
'No, I could not.'
'Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own sagacity.'
'Umph!'

'Are you going to mak' the tea?' demanded he of the shabby coat,
shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.
'Is HE to have any?' she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.
'Get it ready, will you?' was the answer, uttered so savagely that I
started. The tone in which the words were said revealed a genuine bad
nature. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow. When
the preparations were finished, he invited me with - 'Now, sir, bring
forward your chair.' And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round
the table: an austere silence prevailing while we discussed our meal.
I thought, if I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to
dispel it. They could not every day sit so grim and taciturn; and it was
impossible, however ill-tempered they might be, that the universal
scowl they wore was their every-day countenance.
'It is strange,' I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea and
receiving another - 'it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and
ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of
such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet,
I'll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with your
amiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart - '
'My amiable lady!' he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on
his face. 'Where is she - my amiable lady?'
'Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.'
'Well, yes - oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of
ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, even
when her body is gone. Is that it?'
Perceiving myself in a blunder, I attempted to correct it. I might have
seen there was too great a disparity between the ages of the parties to
make it likely that they were man and wife. One was about forty: a
period of mental vigour at which men seldom cherish the delusion of
being married for love by girls: that dream is reserved for the solace of

our declining years. The other did not look seventeen.
Then it flashed on me - 'The clown at my elbow, who is drinking his tea
out of a basin and eating his broad with unwashed hands, may be her
husband: Heathcliff junior, of course. Here is the consequence of being
buried alive: she has thrown herself away upon that boor from sheer
ignorance that better individuals existed! A sad pity - I must beware
how I cause her to regret her choice.' The last reflection may seem
conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck me as bordering on
repulsive; I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.
'Mrs. Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law,' said Heathcliff, corroborating
my surmise. He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction: a
look of hatred; unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that
will not, like those of other people, interpret the language of his soul.
'Ah, certainly - I see now: you are the favoured possessor of the
beneficent fairy,' I remarked, turning to my neighbour.
This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his
fist, with every appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to
recollect himself presently, and smothered the storm in a brutal curse,
muttered on my behalf: which, however, I took care not to notice.
'Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,' observed my host; 'we neither of us
have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said
she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married my son.'
'And this young man is - '
'Not my son, assuredly.'
Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute
the paternity of that bear to him.
'My name is Hareton Earnshaw,' growled the other; 'and I'd counsel you
to respect it!'

'I've shown no disrespect,' was my reply, laughing internally at the
dignity with which he announced himself.
He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear I
might be tempted either to box his ears or render my hilarity audible. I
began to feel unmistakably out