Wuthering Heights

said.
    ‘What?’ he said.
    ‘I’m on a horse,’ I said.
‘What are you on?’
    ‘I’m on valium,’ he said.
    ‘I am your new tenant, Mr
Lockwood.’
    ‘Oh, Christ,’ I heard him
mutter.
    ‘I hope,’ I said, ‘I have
not inconvenienced you in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange.’
    ‘What a creep,’ I heard him
say. ‘Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,’ he said, wincing. He paused, then did
a huge wince. He made a foul gesture, and said, ‘Come in!’ The ‘Come in!’ was
uttered through closed teeth, expressing the sentiment ‘Go to the Deuce’, so I
went to the Deuce, and took tea with him and returned. When Heathcliff saw my
horse’s breast fairly pushing the chain on the gate, Heathcliff said, ‘Look
out, your horse’s breast is fairly pushing the chain on the gate.’ He pulled
his hand from his pocket to unchain it. Why he had his hand chained, I’ll never
know. He opened the gate, then suddenly preceded me up the causeway, breaking
wind with every step, my horse getting most of it. As we entered the court he
said, ‘Ahh, that’s better, it was but only for him. Joseph! Take Mr Lockwood’s
horse; and bring up some wine.' 1
    Joseph was an elderly, nay,
an old man, nay, very old, nay nearly nay dead old man, nay yet hale and
nay hearty.
    ‘The Lord help us!’ he
soliloquized.
    I waited for the Lord to
help us, but he didn’t. ‘Drat it,’ said Joseph.
    ‘Drat what?’ I said.
    He looked at me with displeasure
while relieving me of my horse, which relieved itself on him. Looking in my
face so sourly, I thought he must be in need of divine aid to digest his dinner
(someone like the Virgin Mary and Chips).
    Wuthering Heights is Mr
Heathcliff’s (he was not afraid of heights only widths). Wuthering being
descriptive of the tumult to which it is exposed in stormy weather, pure
bracing air giving us the fresh icy north wind and bronchitis. Before entering
I paused to admire the carving above the door of griffins and shameless little
boys and the name ‘Hareton Earnshaw’, an active rural paedophile. One step took
us into the sitting room, another step we were out of it. They call it here
‘the house’ because it looks like one. Above the fireplace were several horse
pistols used by local horses. The floor was smooth white polished stone, over
which I went arse over tip. The furniture would as belong to the northern
farmer with, seated in his chair, his mug of ale frothing, the like is to be
seen in any circuit of fifteen or sixteen miles among the hills; so if you go
at the right time it is open to anybody, after dinner, to walk a fifteen- or
sixteen-mile circuit of the hills to find one. Mr Heathcliff is a strange man.
He is dark, in dress and manners a gentleman. I think he is Pakistani; his
reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling (though even, as
he stood there, he was feeling himself). He would love and hate equally under
cover, say, an umbrella or a bus shelter. Mr Heathcliff had reasons for keeping
his hand behind him when he meets an acquaintance. It had two thumbs and six
fingers.
    While encouraging a month
of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was thrown into the company of a
fascinating creature; two men took me by the limbs and hurled me through the
window at the feet of a beautiful girl. It was love at first sight, but under
her gaze I shrank into myself. I did this by withdrawing my head into my shirt
through the collar. When I came out again she was gone. 2
    Meantime, back at
Heathcliff’s. I tried to stroke the mother of six puppies; she sneaked
wolfishly to the back of my leg, which she tried to take off.
    ‘You’d better leave that
dog alone,’ growled Heathcliff, giving the dog a punch with his foot on which
he kept a boxing-glove. The dog was now taking the front off my leg. ‘She’s not
accustomed to being spoiled.’ Heathcliff strode to a side door. He shouted,
‘MacGonigle?’ No one of that name lived here, so he strode to the other side
and shouted, ‘Napoleon? Julius Caesar? Robin Hood?’ but no one answered till he
called ‘Joseph’.
    Joseph mumbled indistinctly
in the depths of the cellar, ‘Indistinctly in the depths of the cellar,’ he
mumbled. Heathcliff dived down to him, leaving me with the dog affixed to my
leg, she was joined by three snarling alsatians. Not wanting to arouse them
further I tried to placate them: I indulged in winking, making faces, crossing
my eyes, pulling my ears out, whereupon