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         <titleStmt>
            <title>Wuthering Heights</title>
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            <p>
               <bibl>
                  <author> Emily Bronte</author>
                  <date>1847</date>
                  <note type="genre">Gothic Romance</note>
               </bibl>
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         <sourceDesc>
            <p>
               <title>Chapter 11</title>
            </p>
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         <p> Sometimes, while meditating on these things in solitude, I’ve got up in a sudden
            terror, and put on my bonnet to go see how all was at the farm. I’ve persuaded my
            conscience that it was a duty to warn him how people talked regarding his ways; and then
            I’ve recollected his confirmed bad habits, and, hopeless of benefiting him, have
            flinched from re-entering the dismal house, doubting if I could bear to be taken at my
            word. One time I passed the old gate, going out of my way, on a journey to Gimmerton. It
            was about the period that my narrative has reached: a bright frosty afternoon; the
            ground bare, and the road hard and dry. I came to a stone where the highway branches off
            on to the moor at your left hand; a rough sand-pillar, with the letters W. H. cut on its
            north side, on the east, G., and on the south-west, T. G. It serves as a guide-post to
            the Grange, the Heights, and village. The sun shone yellow on its grey head, reminding
            me of summer; and I cannot say why, but all at once a gush of child’s sensations flowed
            into my heart. Hindley and I held it a favourite spot twenty years before. I gazed long
            at the weather-worn block; and, stooping down, perceived a hole near the bottom still
            full of snail-shells and pebbles, which we were fond of storing there with more
            perishable things; and, as fresh as reality, it appeared that I beheld my early playmate
            seated on the withered turf: his dark, square head bent forward, and his little hand
            scooping out the earth with a piece of slate. “Poor Hindley!” I exclaimed,
            involuntarily. I started: my bodily eye was cheated into a momentary belief that the
            child lifted its face and stared straight into mine! It vanished in a twinkling; but
            immediately I felt an irresistible yearning to be at the Heights. Superstition urged me
            to comply with this impulse: supposing he should be dead!</p>
          <p>  I thought—or should die
            soon!—supposing it were a sign of death! The nearer I got to the house the more agitated
            I grew; and on catching sight of it I trembled in every limb. The apparition had
            outstripped me: it stood looking through the gate. That was my first idea on observing
            an elf-locked, brown-eyed boy setting his ruddy countenance against the bars. Further
            reflection suggested this must be Hareton, my Hareton, not altered greatly since I left
            him, ten months since. “God bless thee, darling!” I cried, forgetting instantaneously my
            foolish fears. “Hareton, it’s Nelly! Nelly, thy nurse.” He retreated out of arm’s
            length, and picked up a large flint. “I am come to see thy father, Hareton,” I added,
            guessing from the action that Nelly, if she lived in his memory at all, was not
            recognised as one with me. He raised his missile to hurl it; I commenced a soothing
            speech, but could not stay his hand: the stone struck my bonnet; and then ensued, from
            the stammering lips of the little fellow, a string of curses, which, whether he
            comprehended them or not, were delivered with practised emphasis, and distorted his baby
            features into a shocking expression of malignity. You may be certain this grieved more
            than angered me. Fit to cry, I took an orange from my pocket, and offered it to
            propitiate him. He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold; as if he fancied I only
            intended to tempt and disappoint him. I showed another, keeping it out of his reach.
            “Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?” I inquired. “The curate?” “Damn the
            curate, and thee! Gie me that,” he replied. “Tell us where you got your lessons, and you
            shall have it,” said I. “Who’s your master?” </p>
          <p>  “Devil daddy,” was his answer. “And what do
            you learn from daddy?” I continued. He jumped at the fruit; I raised it higher. “What
            does he teach you?” I asked. “Naught,” said he, “but to keep out of his gait. Daddy
            cannot bide me, because I swear at him.” “Ah! and the devil teaches you to swear at
            daddy?” I observed. “Ay—nay,” he drawled. “Who, then?” “Heathcliff.” “I asked if he
            liked Mr. Heathcliff.” “Ay!” he answered again. Desiring to have his reasons for liking
            him, I could only gather the sentences—“I known’t: he pays dad back what he gies to
            me—he curses daddy for cursing me. He says I mun do as I will.” “And the curate does not
            teach you to read and write, then?” I pursued. “No, I was told the curate should have
            his —— teeth dashed down his —— throat, if he stepped over the threshold—Heathcliff had
            promised that!” I put the orange in his hand, and bade him tell his father that a woman
            called Nelly Dean was waiting to speak with him, by the garden gate. He went up the
            walk, and entered the house; but, instead of Hindley, Heathcliff appeared on the
            door-stones; and I turned directly and ran down the road as hard as ever I could race,
            making no halt till I gained the guide-post, and feeling as scared as if I had raised a
            goblin. This is not much connected with Miss Isabella’s affair: except that it urged me
            to resolve further on mounting vigilant guard, and doing my utmost to check the spread
            of such bad influence at the Grange: even though I should wake a domestic storm, by
            thwarting Mrs. Linton’s pleasure. The next time Heathcliff came my young lady chanced to
            be feeding some pigeons in the court. She had never spoken a word to her sister-in-law
            for three days; but she had likewise dropped her fretful complaining, and we found it a
            great comfort. Heathcliff had not the habit of bestowing a single unnecessary civility
            on Miss Linton, I knew. Now, as soon as he beheld her, his first precaution was to take
            a sweeping survey of the house-front. I was standing by the kitchen-window, but I drew
            out of sight. He then stepped across the pavement to her, and said something: she seemed
            embarrassed, and desirous of getting away; to prevent it, he laid his hand on her arm.
            She averted her face: he apparently put some question which she had no mind to answer.
            There was another rapid glance at the house, and supposing himself unseen, the <tc:racedesc type="explicit">scoundrel</tc:racedesc>
            had the impudence to embrace her. “Judas! Traitor!” I ejaculated. “You are a hypocrite,
            too, are you? A deliberate deceiver.” </p>
          <p>  “Who is, Nelly?” said Catherine’s voice at my
            elbow: I had been over-intent on watching the pair outside to mark her entrance. “Your
            worthless friend!” I answered, warmly: “the <tc:racedesc type="implied">sneaking rascal</tc:racedesc>  yonder. Ah, he has caught a
            glimpse of us—he is coming in! I wonder will he have the heart to find a plausible
            excuse for making love to Miss, when he told you he hated her?” Mrs. Linton saw Isabella
            tear herself free, and run into the garden; and a minute after, Heathcliff opened the
            door. I couldn’t withhold giving some loose to my indignation; but Catherine angrily
            insisted on silence, and threatened to order me out of the kitchen, if I dared to be so
            presumptuous as to put in my insolent tongue. “To hear you, people might think you were
            the mistress!” she cried. “You want setting down in your right place! Heathcliff, what
            are you about, raising this stir? I said you must let Isabella alone!—I beg you will,
            unless you are tired of being received here, and wish Linton to draw the bolts against
            you!” “God forbid that he should try!” answered <tc:racedesc type="explicit">the black villain</tc:racedesc>. I detested him just
            then. “God keep him meek and patient! Every day I grow madder after sending him to
            heaven!” “Hush!” said Catherine, shutting the inner door.</p>
          <p>  “Don’t vex me. Why have you
            disregarded my request? Did she come across you on purpose?” “What is it to you?” he
            growled. “I have a right to kiss her, if she chooses; and you have no right to object. I
            am not your husband: you needn’t be jealous of me!” “I’m not jealous of you,” replied
            the mistress; “I’m jealous for you. Clear your face: you sha’n’t scowl at me! If you
            like Isabella, you shall marry her. But do you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff!
            There, you won’t answer. I’m certain you don’t.” “And would Mr. Linton approve of his
            sister marrying that man?” I inquired. “Mr. Linton should approve,” returned my lady,
            decisively. “He might spare himself the trouble,” said Heathcliff: “I could do as well
            without his approbation. And as to you, Catherine, I have a mind to speak a few words
            now, while we are at it. I want you to be aware that I know you have treated me
            infernally—infernally! Do you hear? And if you flatter yourself that I don’t perceive
            it, you are a fool; and if you think I can be consoled by sweet words, you are an idiot:
            and if you fancy I’ll suffer unrevenged, I’ll convince you of the contrary, in a very
            little while! Meantime, thank you for telling me your sister-in-law’s secret: I swear
            I’ll make the most of it. And stand you aside!” “What new phase of his character is
            this?” exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in amazement. “I’ve treated you infernally—and you’ll take
            your revenge! How will you take it, ungrateful brute? How have I treated you
            infernally?” “I seek no revenge on you,” replied Heathcliff, less vehemently. “That’s
            not the plan. The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don’t turn against him; they
            crush those beneath them. You are welcome to torture me to death for your amusement,
            only allow me to amuse myself a little in the same style, and refrain from insult as
            much as you are able. Having levelled my palace, don’t erect a hovel and complacently
            admire your own charity in giving me that for a home. If I imagined you really wished me
            to marry Isabel, I’d cut my throat!” “Oh, the evil is that I am not jealous, is it?”
            cried Catherine. “Well, I won’t repeat my offer of a wife: it is as bad as offering
            Satan a lost soul. Your bliss lies, like his, in inflicting misery. You prove it. Edgar
            is restored from the ill-temper he gave way to at your coming; I begin to be secure and
            tranquil; and you, restless to know us at peace, appear resolved on exciting a quarrel.
            Quarrel with Edgar, if you please, Heathcliff, and deceive his sister: you’ll hit on
            exactly the most efficient method of revenging yourself on me.” The conversation ceased.
            Mrs. Linton sat down by the fire, flushed and gloomy. The spirit which served her was
            growing intractable: she could neither lay nor control it. He stood on the hearth with
            folded arms, brooding on his evil thoughts; and in this position I left them to seek the
            master, who was wondering what kept Catherine below so long. “Ellen,” said he, when I
            entered, “have you seen your mistress?” “Yes; she’s in the kitchen, sir,” I answered.
            “She’s sadly put out by Mr. Heathcliff’s behaviour: and, indeed, I do think it’s time to
            arrange his visits on another footing. There’s harm in being too soft, and now it’s come
            to this—.” </p>
       <p>     And I related the scene in the court, and, as near as I dared, the whole
            subsequent dispute. I fancied it could not be very prejudicial to Mrs. Linton; unless
            she made it so afterwards, by assuming the defensive for her guest. Edgar Linton had
            difficulty in hearing me to the close. His first words revealed that he did not clear
            his wife of blame. “This is insufferable!” he exclaimed. “It is disgraceful that she
            should own him for a friend, and force his company on me! Call me two men out of the
            hall, Ellen. Catherine shall linger no longer to argue with the <tc:racedesc type="explicit">low ruffian</tc:racedesc>—I have
            humoured her enough.” He descended, and bidding the servants wait in the passage, went,
            followed by me, to the kitchen. Its occupants had recommenced their angry discussion:
            Mrs. Linton, at least, was scolding with renewed vigour; Heathcliff had moved to the
            window, and hung his head, somewhat cowed by her violent rating apparently. He saw the
            master first, and made a hasty motion that she should be silent; which she obeyed,
            abruptly, on discovering the reason of his intimation. “How is this?” said Linton,
            addressing her; “what notion of propriety must you have to remain here, after the
            language which has been held to you by that blackguard? I suppose, because it is his
            ordinary talk you think nothing of it: you are habituated to his baseness, and, perhaps,
            imagine I can get used to it too!” “Have you been listening at the door, Edgar?” asked
            the mistress, in a tone particularly calculated to provoke her husband, implying both
            carelessness and contempt of his irritation. Heathcliff, who had raised his eyes at the
            former speech, gave a sneering laugh at the latter; on purpose, it seemed, to draw Mr.
            Linton’s attention to him. He succeeded; but Edgar did not mean to entertain him with
            any high flights of passion. “I’ve been so far forbearing with you, sir,” he said
            quietly; “not that I was ignorant of your miserable, degraded character, but I felt you
            were only partly responsible for that; and Catherine wishing to keep up your
            acquaintance, I acquiesced—foolishly. Your presence is a moral poison that would
            contaminate the most virtuous: for that cause, and to prevent worse consequences, I
            shall deny you hereafter admission into this house, and give notice now that I require
            your instant departure. Three minutes’ delay will render it involuntary and
            ignominious.” </p>
          <p>  Heathcliff measured the height and breadth of the speaker with an eye full
            of derision. “Cathy, this lamb of yours threatens like a bull!” he said. “It is in
            danger of splitting its skull against my knuckles. By God! Mr. Linton, I’m mortally
            sorry that you are not worth knocking down!” My master glanced towards the passage, and
            signed me to fetch the men: he had no intention of hazarding a personal encounter. I
            obeyed the hint; but Mrs. Linton, suspecting something, followed; and when I attempted
            to call them, she pulled me back, slammed the door to, and locked it. “Fair means!” she
            said, in answer to her husband’s look of angry surprise. “If you have not courage to
            attack him, make an apology, or allow yourself to be beaten. It will correct you of
            feigning more valour than you possess. No, I’ll swallow the key before you shall get it!
            I’m delightfully rewarded for my kindness to each! After constant indulgence of one’s
            weak nature, and the other’s bad one, I earn for thanks two samples of blind
            ingratitude, stupid to absurdity! Edgar, I was defending you and yours; and I wish
            Heathcliff may flog you sick, for daring to think an evil thought of me!” It did not
            need the medium of a flogging to produce that effect on the master. He tried to wrest
            the key from Catherine’s grasp, and for safety she flung it into the hottest part of the
            fire; whereupon Mr. Edgar was taken with a nervous trembling, and his countenance grew
            deadly pale. For his life he could not avert that excess of emotion: mingled anguish and
            humiliation overcame him completely. He leant on the back of a chair, and covered his
            face. “Oh, heavens! In old days this would win you knighthood!” exclaimed Mrs. Linton.
            “We are vanquished! we are vanquished! Heathcliff would as soon lift a finger at you as
            the king would march his army against a colony of mice. Cheer up! you sha’n’t be hurt!
            Your type is not a lamb, it’s a sucking leveret.” “I wish you joy of the milk-blooded
            coward, Cathy!” said her friend.</p>
        <p>    “I compliment you on your taste. And that is the
            slavering, shivering thing you preferred to me! I would not strike him with my fist, but
            I’d kick him with my foot, and experience considerable satisfaction. Is he weeping, or
            is he going to faint for fear?” The fellow approached and gave the chair on which Linton
            rested a push. He’d better have kept his distance: my master quickly sprang erect, and
            struck him full on the throat a blow that would have levelled a slighter man. It took
            his breath for a minute; and while he choked, Mr. Linton walked out by the back door
            into the yard, and from thence to the front entrance. “There! you’ve done with coming
            here,” cried Catherine. “Get away, now; he’ll return with a brace of pistols and
            half-a-dozen assistants. If he did overhear us, of course he’d never forgive you. You’ve
            played me an ill turn, Heathcliff! But go—make haste! I’d rather see Edgar at bay than
            you.” “Do you suppose I’m going with that blow burning in my gullet?” he thundered. “By
            hell, no! I’ll crush his ribs in like a rotten hazel-nut before I cross the threshold!
            If I don’t floor him now, I shall murder him some time; so, as you value his existence,
            let me get at him!” “He is not coming,” I interposed, framing a bit of a lie. “There’s
            the coachman and the two gardeners; you’ll surely not wait to be thrust into the road by
            them! Each has a bludgeon; and master will, very likely, be watching from the
            parlour-windows to see that they fulfil his orders.” The gardeners and coachman were
            there: but Linton was with them. They had already entered the court. Heathcliff, on the
            second thoughts, resolved to avoid a struggle against three underlings: he seized the
            poker, smashed the lock from the inner door, and made his escape as they tramped in.
            Mrs. Linton, who was very much excited, bade me accompany her upstairs. She did not know
            my share in contributing to the disturbance, and I was anxious to keep her in ignorance.
            “I’m nearly distracted, Nelly!” she exclaimed, throwing herself on the sofa. “A thousand
            smiths’ hammers are beating in my head! </p>
          <p>  Tell Isabella to shun me; this uproar is owing
            to her; and should she or any one else aggravate my anger at present, I shall get wild.
            And, Nelly, say to Edgar, if you see him again to-night, that I’m in danger of being
            seriously ill. I wish it may prove true. He has startled and distressed me shockingly! I
            want to frighten him. Besides, he might come and begin a string of abuse or
            complainings; I’m certain I should recriminate, and God knows where we should end! Will
            you do so, my good Nelly? You are aware that I am no way blamable in this matter. What
            possessed him to turn listener? Heathcliff’s talk was outrageous, after you left us; but
            I could soon have diverted him from Isabella, and the rest meant nothing. Now all is
            dashed wrong; by the fool’s craving to hear evil of self, that haunts some people like a
            demon! Had Edgar never gathered our conversation, he would never have been the worse for
            it. Really, when he opened on me in that unreasonable tone of displeasure after I had
            scolded Heathcliff till I was hoarse for him; I did not care hardly what they did to
            each other; especially as I felt that, however the scene closed, we should all be driven
            asunder for nobody knows how long! Well, if I cannot keep Heathcliff for my friend—if
            Edgar will be mean and jealous, I’ll try to break their hearts by breaking my own. That
            will be a prompt way of finishing all, when I am pushed to extremity! But it’s a deed to
            be reserved for a forlorn hope; I’d not take Linton by surprise with it. To this point
            he has been discreet in dreading to provoke me; you must represent the peril of quitting
            that policy, and remind him of my passionate temper, verging, when kindled, on frenzy. I
            wish you could dismiss that apathy out of that countenance, and look rather more anxious
            about me.” The stolidity with which I received these instructions was, no doubt, rather
            exasperating: for they were delivered in perfect sincerity; but I believed a person who
            could plan the turning of her fits of passion to account, beforehand, might, by exerting
            her will, manage to control herself tolerably, even while under their influence; and I
            did not wish to “frighten” her husband, as she said, and multiply his annoyances for the
            purpose of serving her selfishness. Therefore I said nothing when I met the master
            coming towards the parlour; but I took the liberty of turning back to listen whether
            they would resume their quarrel together. He began to speak first. “Remain where you
            are, Catherine,” he said; without any anger in his voice, but with much sorrowful
            despondency. </p>
       <p>     “I shall not stay. I am neither come to wrangle nor be reconciled; but I
            wish just to learn whether, after this evening’s events, you intend to continue your
            intimacy with—” “Oh, for mercy’s sake,” interrupted the mistress, stamping her foot,
            “for mercy’s sake, let us hear no more of it now! Your cold blood cannot be worked into
            a fever: your veins are full of ice-water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of such
            chillness makes them dance.” “To get rid of me, answer my question,” persevered Mr.
            Linton. “You must answer it; and that violence does not alarm me. I have found that you
            can be as stoical as anyone, when you please. Will you give up Heathcliff hereafter, or
            will you give up me? It is impossible for you to be my friend and his at the same time;
            and I absolutely require to know which you choose.” “I require to be let alone!”
            exclaimed Catherine, furiously. “I demand it! Don’t you see I can scarcely stand? Edgar,
            you—you leave me!” She rang the bell till it broke with a twang; I entered leisurely. It
            was enough to try the temper of a saint, such senseless, wicked rages! There she lay
            dashing her head against the arm of the sofa, and grinding her teeth, so that you might
            fancy she would crash them to splinters! Mr. Linton stood looking at her in sudden
            compunction and fear. He told me to fetch some water. She had no breath for speaking. I
            brought a glass full; and as she would not drink, I sprinkled it on her face. In a few
            seconds she stretched herself out stiff, and turned up her eyes, while her cheeks, at
            once blanched and livid, assumed the aspect of death. Linton looked terrified. “There is
            nothing in the world the matter,” I whispered. I did not want him to yield, though I
            could not help being afraid in my heart. </p>
         <p>   “She has blood on her lips!” he said,
            shuddering. “Never mind!” I answered, tartly. And I told him how she had resolved,
            previous to his coming, on exhibiting a fit of frenzy. I incautiously gave the account
            aloud, and she heard me; for she started up—her hair flying over her shoulders, her eyes
            flashing, the muscles of her neck and arms standing out preternaturally. I made up my
            mind for broken bones, at least; but she only glared about her for an instant, and then
            rushed from the room. The master directed me to follow; I did, to her chamber-door: she
            hindered me from going further by securing it against me. As she never offered to
            descend to breakfast next morning, I went to ask whether she would have some carried up.
            “No!” she replied, peremptorily. The same question was repeated at dinner and tea; and
            again on the morrow after, and received the same answer. Mr. Linton, on his part, spent
            his time in the library, and did not inquire concerning his wife’s occupations. Isabella
            and he had had an hour’s interview, during which he tried to elicit from her some
            sentiment of proper horror for Heathcliff’s advances: but he could make nothing of her
            evasive replies, and was obliged to close the examination unsatisfactorily; adding,
            however, a solemn warning, that if she were so insane as to encourage that worthless
            suitor, it would dissolve all bonds of relationship between herself and him. </p>
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