CHAPTER II

itchenentrance.“Astostayinghere,Idon’tkeepaccommodationsforvisitors:youmustshareabedwithHaretonorJoseph,ifyoudo.” “Icansleeponachairinthisroom,”Ireplied. “No,no!Astrangerisastranger,beherichorpoor:itwillnotsuitmetopermitanyonetherangeoftheplacewhileIamoffguard!”saidtheunmannerlywretch. Withthisinsultmypatiencewasatanend.Iutteredanexpressionofdisgust,andpushedpasthimintotheyard,runningagainstEarnshawinmyhaste.ItwassodarkthatIcouldnotseethemeansofexitand,asIwanderedround,Iheardanotherspecimenoftheircivilbehaviouramongsteachother.Atfirsttheyoungmanappearedabouttobefriendme. “I’llgowithhimasfarasthepark,”hesaid. “You’llgowithhimtohell!”exclaimedhismaster,orwhateverrelationhebore.“Andwhoistolookafterthehorses,eh?” “Aman’slifeisofmoreconsequencethanoneevening’sneglectofthehorses:somebodymustgo,”murmuredMrs.Heathcliff,morekindlythanIexpected. “Notatyourcommand!”retortedHareton.“Ifyousetstoreonhim,you’dbetterbequiet.” “ThenIhopehisghostwillhauntyouandIhopeMr.HeathcliffwillnevergetanothertenanttilltheGrangeisaruin,”sheanswered,sharply. “Hearken,hearken,shoo’scursingon’em!”mutteredJoseph,towardswhomIhadbeensteering. Hesatwithinearshot,milkingthecowsbythelightofalantern,whichIseizedunceremoniously,and,callingoutthatIwouldsenditbackonthemorrow,rushedtothenearestpostern. “Maister,maister,he’sstalingt’lanthern!”shoutedtheancient,pursuingmyretreat.“Hey,Gnasher!Hey,dog!HeyWolf,holldhim,holldhim!” Onopeningthelittledoor,twohairymonstersflewatmythroat,bearingmedown,andextinguishingthelightwhileamingledguffawfromHeathcliffandHaretonputthecopestoneonmyrageandhumiliation.Fortunately,thebeastsseemedmorebentonstretchingtheirpaws,andyawning,andflourishingtheirtails,thandevouringmealivebuttheywouldsuffernoresurrection,andIwasforcedtolietilltheirmalignantmasterspleasedtodeliverme:then,hatlessandtremblingwithwrath,Iorderedthemiscreantstoletmeout—ontheirperiltokeepmeoneminutelonger—withseveralincoherentthreatsofretaliationthat,intheirindefinitedepthofvirulency,smackedofKingLear. Thevehemenceofmyagitationbroughtonacopiousbleedingatthenose,andstillHeathclifflaughed,andstillIscolded.Idon’tknowwhatwouldhaveconcludedthescene,hadtherenotbeenonepersonathandrathermorerationalthanmyself,andmorebenevolentthanmyentertainer.ThiswasZillah,thestouthousewifewhoatlengthissuedforthtoinquireintothenatureoftheuproar.Shethoughtthatsomeofthemhadbeenlayingviolenthandsonmeand,notdaringtoattackhermaster,sheturnedhervocalartilleryagainsttheyoungerscoundrel. “Well,Mr.Earnshaw,”shecried,“Iwonderwhatyou’llhaveagaitnext?Arewegoingtomurderfolkonourverydoor-stones?Iseethishousewillneverdoforme—lookatt’poorlad,he’sfairchoking!Wisht,wishtyoumun’n’tgoonso.Comein,andI’llcurethat:therenow,holdyestill.” Withthesewordsshesuddenlysplashedapintoficywaterdownmyneck,andpulledmeintothekitchen.Mr.Heathclifffollowed,hisaccidentalmerrimentexpiringquicklyinhishabitualmoroseness. Iwassickexceedingly,anddizzy,andfaintandthuscompelledperforcetoacceptlodgingsunderhisroof.HetoldZillahtogivemeaglassofbrandy,andthenpassedontotheinnerroomwhileshecondoledwithmeonmysorrypredicament,andhavingobeyedhisorders,wherebyIwassomewhatrevived,usheredmetobed.