Now, I perceived he was not looking at the wall;for when I regarded him alone,it seemed exactly that he gazed at something within two yards’ distance.And whatever it was, it communicated, apparently,both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes:at least the anguished, yet raptured,expression of his countenance suggested that idea.The fancied object was not fixed, either:his eyes pursued it with unwearied diligence, and,even in speaking to me, were never weaned away.I vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food:if he stirred to touch anything in compliance with my entreaties,if he stretched his hand out to get a piece of bread,his fingers clenched before they reached it,and remained on the table, forgetful of their aim.
I sat, a model of patience,trying to attract his absorbed attention from its engrossing speculation;till he grew irritable, and got up,asking why I would not allow him to have his own time in taking his meals?and saying that on the next occasion I needn’t wait:I might set the things down and go.Having uttered these words he left the house,slowly sauntered down the garden path,and disappeared through the gate.
The hours crept anxiously by: another evening came.I did not retire to rest till late, and when I did,I could not sleep. He returned after midnight, and,instead of going to bed,shut himself into the room beneath. I listened,and tossed about, and, finally, dressed and descended.It was too irksome to lie there,harassing my brain with a hundred idle misgivings.
I distinguished Mr. Heathcliff’s step,restlessly measuring the floor,and he frequently broke the silence by a deep inspiration,resembling a groan. He muttered detached words also;the only one I could catch was the name of Catherine,coupled with some wild term of endearment or suffering;and spoken as one would speak to a person present;low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul.I had not courage to walk straight into the apartment;but I desired to divert him from his reverie,and therefore fell foul of the kitchen fire,stirred it, and began to scrape the cinders.It drew him forth sooner than I expected.He opened the door immediately, and said—“Nelly,come here—is it morning?Come in with your light.”
“It is striking four,” I answered.“You want a candle to take upstairs:you might have lit one at this fire.”
“No, I don’t wish to go upstairs,” he said. “Come in,and kindle _me_ a fire,and do anything there is to do about the room.”
“I must blow the coals red first,before I can carry any,” I replied,getting a chair and the bellows.
He roamed to and fro, meantime,in a state approaching distraction;his heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space for common breathing between.
“When day breaks I’ll send for Green,” he said;“I wish to make some legal inquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on those matters, and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet; and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth.”
“I would not talk so, Mr. Heathcliff,” I interposed.“Let your will be a while:you’ll be spared to repent of your many injustices yet!I never expected that your nerves would be disordered:they are, at present, marvellously so, however;and almost entirely through your own fault.The way you’ve passed these three last days might knock up a Titan.Do take some food, and some repose.You need only look at yourself in a glass to see how you require both.Your cheeks are hollow, and your eyes blood-shot,like a person starving with hunger and going blind with loss of sleep. ”
“It is not my fault that I cannot eat or rest,” he replied. “I assure you it is through no settled designs.I’ll do both, as soon as I possibly can.But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest within arms’ length of the shore!I must reach it first, and then I’ll rest. Well,never mind Mr. Green: as to repenting of my injustices,I’ve done no injustice, and I repent of nothing.I’m too happy; and yet I’m not happy enough.My soul’s bliss kills my body,but does not satisfy itself.”
“Happy, master?” I cried. “Strange happiness!If you would hear me without being angry,I might offer some advice that would make you happier.”
“What is that?” he asked. “Give it.”
“You are aware, Mr. Heathcliff,” I said,“that from the time you were thirteen years old you have lived a selfish,unchristian life; and probably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that period. You must have forgotten the contents of the book, and you may not have space to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send for some one—some minister of any denomination, it does not matter which—to explain it, and show you how very far you have erred from its precepts; and how unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change takes place before you die?”
“I’m rather obliged than angry, Nelly,” he said,“for you remind me of the manner in which I desire to be buried.It is to be carried to the churchyard in the evening.You and Hareton may, if you please, accompany me:and mind, particularly,to notice that the sexton obeys my directions concerning the two coffins!No minister need come;nor need anything be said over me.—I tell you I have nearly attained _my_ heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued and uncoveted by me.”
“And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast,and died by that means,and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the kirk?” I said, shocked at his godless indifference.“How would you like it?”
“They won’t do that,” he replied: “if they did,you must have me removed secretly;and if you neglect it you shall prove, practically,that the dead are not annihilated!”
As soon as he heard the other members of the family stirring he retired to his den, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph and Hareton were at their work, he came into the kitchen again, and, with a wild look, bid me come and sit in the house: he wanted somebody with him. I declined; telling him plainly that his strange talk and manner frightened me, and I had neither the nerve nor the will to be his companion alone.
“I believe you think me a fiend,” he said,with his dismal laugh:“something too horrible to live under a decent roof.” Then turning to Catherine, who was there,and who drew behind me at his approach, he added,half sneeringly,—“Will _you_ come, chuck?I’ll not hurt you. No!to you I’ve made myself worse than the devil. Well,there is _one_ who won’t shrink from my company!By God!she’s relentless. Oh, damn it!It’s unutterably too much for flesh and blood to bear—even mine. ”
He solicited the society of no one more.At dusk he went into his chamber.Through the whole night, and far into the morning,we heard him groaning and murmuring to himself.Hareton was anxious to enter; but I bid him fetch Mr.Kenneth, and he should go in and see him. When he came,and I requested admittance and tried to open the door,I found it locked; and Heathcliff bid us be damned.He was better, and would be left alone;so the doctor went away.
The following evening was very wet: indeed,it poured down till day-dawn; and,as I took my morning walk round the house,I observed the master’s window swinging open,and the rain driving straight in. He cannot be in bed,I thought: those showers would drench him through.He must either be up or out. But I’ll make no more ado,I’ll go boldly and look.