Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (305 page)

‘“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 Hareton 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 to-night!” 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 retorted again.  “Come in and get shot, 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 menaced him.  Earnshaw swore passionately at me: affirming that I loved the villain yet; and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I evinced.  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!  As I sat nursing these reflections, the casement behind me was banged on to the floor by a blow from the latter individual, and his black countenance looked blightingly through.  The stanchions 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 wrath, gleamed through the dark.

‘“Isabella, let me in, or I’ll make you repent!” he “girned,” 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!  Heathcliff, if I were you, I’d go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog.  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 preterhuman self-denial in abstaining from finishing him completely; but getting out of breath, he finally desisted, and dragged the apparently inanimate body on to 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 two at once.

‘“What is ther to do, now? what is ther to do, now?”

‘“There’s this to do,” thundered Heathcliff, “that your master’s mad; and should he last another month, I’ll have him to an asylum.  And how the devil did you come to fasten me out, you toothless hound?  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 is more than half brandy!”

‘“And so ye’ve been murthering on him?” exclaimed Joseph, lifting his hands and eyes in horror.  “If iver I seed a seeght loike this!  May the Lord — ”

‘Heathcliff gave him a push on to 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 you, 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 Heathcliff 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 Heathcliff was not the aggressor; especially with my hardly-wrung 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.  Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant of the treatment received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated; and said 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, leant 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.

‘Heathcliff 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.’

‘Fie, fie, Miss!’ I interrupted.  ‘One might suppose you had never opened a Bible in your life.  If God afflict your enemies, surely that ought to suffice you.  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.  Oh, 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?”

‘“He trampled on and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground,” I whispered.  “And his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth; because he’s only half man: not so much, and the rest fiend.”

‘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 plainer his reflections revealed their blackness through his features.

‘“Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in my last agony, I’d go to hell with joy,” groaned 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, every one 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 rained 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.

‘“Get up, and begone out of my sight,” said the mourner.

‘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 attendance, which, for her sake, I shall supply.  Now, that she’s dead, I see her in Hindley: Hindley has exactly her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black and red; and her — ”

‘“Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!” 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 Hareton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as a soul escaped from purgatory, I bounded, 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.’