“On the morrow I was sad;partly because you were poorly,and partly that I wished my father knew,and approved of my excursions:but it was beautiful moonlight after tea; and,as I rode on, the gloom cleared.I shall have another happy evening,I thought to myself; and what delights me more,my pretty Linton will. I trotted up their garden,and was turning round to the back,when that fellow Earnshaw met me, took my bridle,and bid me go in by the front entrance.He patted Minny’s neck, and said she was a bonny beast,and appeared as if he wanted me to speak to him.I only told him to leave my horse alone,or else it would kick him.He answered in his vulgar accent,‘It wouldn’t do mitch hurt if it did;’ and surveyed its legs with a smile.I was half inclined to make it try; however,he moved off to open the door, and,as he raised the latch,he looked up to the inscription above, and said,with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and elation: ‘Miss Catherine!I can read yon, now.’
“‘Wonderful,’ I exclaimed.‘Pray let us hear you—you _are_ grown clever!’
“He spelt, and drawled over by syllables,the name—‘Hareton Earnshaw.’
“‘And the figures?’ I cried, encouragingly,perceiving that he came to a dead halt.
“‘I cannot tell them yet,’ he answered.
“‘Oh, you dunce!’ I said, laughing heartily at his failure.
“The fool stared, with a grin hovering about his lips,and a scowl gathering over his eyes,as if uncertain whether he might not join in my mirth:whether it were not pleasant familiarity,or what it really was, contempt. I settled his doubts,by suddenly retrieving my gravity and desiring him to walk away,for I came to see Linton, not him.He reddened—I saw that by the moonlight—dropped his hand from the latch,and skulked off, a picture of mortified vanity.He imagined himself to be as accomplished as Linton,I suppose, because he could spell his own name;and was marvellously discomfited that I didn’t think the same. ”
“Stop, Miss Catherine, dear!” I interrupted. “I shall not scold,but I don’t like your conduct there.If you had remembered that Hareton was your cousin as much as Master Heathcliff, you would have felt how improper it was to behave in that way. At least, it was praiseworthy ambition for him to desire to be as accomplished as Linton; and probably he did not learn merely to show off: you had made him ashamed of his ignorance before, I have no doubt; and he wished to remedy it and please you. To sneer at his imperfect attempt was very bad breeding. Had _you_ been brought up in his circumstances, would you be less rude?He was as quick and as intelligent a child as ever you were;and I’m hurt that he should be despised now,because that base Heathcliff has treated him so unjustly. ”
“Well, Ellen, you won’t cry about it, will you?” she exclaimed, surprised at my earnestness. “But wait,and you shall hear if he conned his A B C to please me;and if it were worth while being civil to the brute.I entered; Linton was lying on the settle,and half got up to welcome me.
“‘I’m ill to-night, Catherine, love,’ he said;‘and you must have all the talk, and let me listen.Come, and sit by me.I was sure you wouldn’t break your word,and I’ll make you promise again, before you go.’
“I knew now that I mustn’t tease him, as he was ill;and I spoke softly and put no questions,and avoided irritating him in any way.I had brought some of my nicest books for him:he asked me to read a little of one,and I was about to comply,when Earnshaw burst the door open:having gathered venom with reflection.He advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm,and swung him off the seat.
“‘Get to thy own room!’ he said, in a voice almost inarticulate with passion;and his face looked swelled and furious.‘Take her there if she comes to see thee:thou shalln’t keep me out of this. Begone wi’ ye both!’
“He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer,nearly throwing him into the kitchen;and he clenched his fist as I followed,seemingly longing to knock me down.I was afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall;he kicked it after me, and shut us out.I heard a malignant, crackly laugh by the fire,and turning, beheld that odious Joseph standing rubbing his bony hands, and quivering.
“‘I wer sure he’d sarve ye out!He’s a grand lad!He’s getten t’ raight sperrit in him!_He_ knaws—ay, he knaws, as weel as I do,who sud be t’ maister yonder—Ech, ech, ech!He made ye skift properly!Ech, ech, ech!’
“‘Where must we go?’ I asked of my cousin,disregarding the old wretch’s mockery.
“Linton was white and trembling. He was not pretty then, Ellen: oh, no!he looked frightful;for his thin face and large eyes were wrought into an expression of frantic,powerless fury. He grasped the handle of the door,and shook it: it was fastened inside.
“‘If you don’t let me in, I’ll kill you!—If you don’t let me in, I’ll kill you!’ he rather shrieked than said. ‘Devil!devil!—I’ll kill you—I’ll kill you!’
“Joseph uttered his croaking laugh again.
“‘Thear, that’s t’ father!’ he cried. ‘That’s father!We’ve allas summut o’ either side in us. Niver heed,Hareton, lad—dunnut be’feard—he cannot get at thee!’
“I took hold of Linton’s hands,and tried to pull him away;but he shrieked so shockingly that I dared not proceed.At last his cries were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing;blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell on the ground.I ran into the yard, sick with terror;and called for Zillah, as loud as I could.She soon heard me: she was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn,and hurrying from her work,she inquired what there was to do?I hadn’t breath to explain; dragging her in,I looked about for Linton.Earnshaw had come out to examine the mischief he had caused,and he was then conveying the poor thing upstairs.Zillah and I ascended after him;but he stopped me at the top of the steps,and said I shouldn’t go in: I must go home.I exclaimed that he had killed Linton,and I _would_ enter. Joseph locked the door,and declared I should do ‘no sich stuff,’ and asked me whether I were ‘bahn to be as mad as him.’ I stood crying till the housekeeper reappeared.She affirmed he would be better in a bit,but he couldn’t do with that shrieking and din;and she took me, and nearly carried me into the house.
“Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head!I sobbed and wept so that my eyes were almost blind;and the ruffian you have such sympathy with stood opposite:presuming every now and then to bid me ‘wisht,’ and denying that it was his fault; and, finally,frightened by my assertions that I would tell papa,and that he should be put in prison and hanged,he commenced blubbering himself,and hurried out to hide his cowardly agitation. Still,I was not rid of him:when at length they compelled me to depart,and I had got some hundred yards off the premises,he suddenly issued from the shadow of the road-side,and checked Minny and took hold of me.
“‘Miss Catherine, I’m ill grieved,’ he began,‘but it’s rayther too bad—’
“I gave him a cut with my whip,thinking perhaps he would murder me. He let go,thundering one of his horrid curses,and I galloped home more than half out of my senses.