CHAPTER II

dispelit.Theycouldnoteverydaysitsogrimandtaciturnanditwasimpossible,howeverill-temperedtheymightbe,thattheuniversalscowltheyworewastheirevery-daycountenance. “Itisstrange,”Ibegan,intheintervalofswallowingonecupofteaandreceivinganother—“itisstrangehowcustomcanmouldourtastesandideas:manycouldnotimaginetheexistenceofhappinessinalifeofsuchcompleteexilefromtheworldasyouspend,Mr.Heathcliffyet,I’llventuretosay,that,surroundedbyyourfamily,andwithyouramiableladyasthepresidinggeniusoveryourhomeandheart—” “Myamiablelady!”heinterrupted,withanalmostdiabolicalsneeronhisface.“Whereisshe—myamiablelady?” “Mrs.Heathcliff,yourwife,Imean.” “Well,yes—oh,youwouldintimatethatherspirithastakenthepostofministeringangel,andguardsthefortunesofWutheringHeights,evenwhenherbodyisgone.Isthatit?” Perceivingmyselfinablunder,Iattemptedtocorrectit.Imighthaveseentherewastoogreatadisparitybetweentheagesofthepartiestomakeitlikelythattheyweremanandwife.Onewasaboutforty:aperiodofmentalvigouratwhichmenseldomcherishthedelusionofbeingmarriedforlovebygirls:thatdreamisreservedforthesolaceofourdecliningyears.Theotherdidnotlookseventeen. Thenitflasheduponme—“Theclownatmyelbow,whoisdrinkinghisteaoutofabasinandeatinghisbreadwithunwashedhands,maybeherhusband:Heathcliffjunior,ofcourse.Hereistheconsequenceofbeingburiedalive:shehasthrownherselfawayuponthatboorfromsheerignorancethatbetterindividualsexisted!Asadpity—ImustbewarehowIcausehertoregretherchoice.”Thelastreflectionmayseemconceiteditwasnot.MyneighbourstruckmeasborderingonrepulsiveIknew,throughexperience,thatIwastolerablyattractive. “Mrs.Heathcliffismydaughter-in-law,”saidHeathcliff,corroboratingmysurmise.Heturned,ashespoke,apeculiarlookinherdirection:alookofhatredunlesshehasamostperversesetoffacialmusclesthatwillnot,likethoseofotherpeople,interpretthelanguageofhissoul. “Ah,certainly—Iseenow:youarethefavouredpossessorofthebeneficentfairy,”Iremarked,turningtomyneighbour. Thiswasworsethanbefore:theyouthgrewcrimson,andclenchedhisfist,witheveryappearanceofameditatedassault.Butheseemedtorecollecthimselfpresently,andsmotheredthestorminabrutalcurse,mutteredonmybehalf:which,however,Itookcarenottonotice. “Unhappyinyourconjectures,sir,”observedmyhost“weneitherofushavetheprivilegeofowningyourgoodfairyhermateisdead.Isaidshewasmydaughter-in-law:therefore,shemusthavemarriedmyson.” “Andthisyoungmanis—” “Notmyson,assuredly.” Heathcliffsmiledagain,asifitwererathertooboldajesttoattributethepaternityofthatbeartohim. “MynameisHaretonEarnshaw,”growledtheother“andI’dcounselyoutorespectit!” “I’veshownnodisrespect,”wasmyreply,laughinginternallyatthedignitywithwhichheannouncedhimself. HefixedhiseyeonmelongerthanIcaredtoreturnthestare,forfearImightbetemptedeithertoboxhisearsorrendermyhilarityaudible.Ibegantofeelunmistakablyoutofplaceinthatpleasantfamilycircle.Thedismalspiritualatmosphereovercame,andmorethanneutralised,theglowingphysicalcomfortsroundmeandIresolvedtobecautioushowIventuredunderthoseraftersathirdtime. Thebusinessofeatingbeingconcluded,andnooneutteringawordofsociableconversation,Iapproachedawindowtoexaminetheweather.AsorrowfulsightIsaw:darknightcomingdownprematurely,andskyandhi