Wuthering Heights

the
key which was on the inside. When I did I heard a horse drawing nigh, the horse
then stopped nigh.
    ‘ “Who is that?” I
whispered through the keyhole as I fumbled for the right key.
    ‘ “Ho, Mrs Linton, it’s me
and my horse,” cried a deep voice (for it was he).
    ‘ “I shan’t speak to you or
your horse, Mr Heathcliff” (for it was he), said Cathy.
    ‘ “Go away,” I said through
the keyhole. Heathcliff’s horse started a great steaming stream of urination.
    ‘ “Let me in, Nelly,” said
Cathy, “or I’ll drown.” I let her in. We slammed the door on the deluge,
whereforth Heathcliff (for it was he) had to address us through the keyhole. He
told us Linton was dying for love of Cathy. He was too weak to even write
“Fish”! He’d be under the sod before summer if she did not come and see him.
“You’ll never get another fish letter.”
    ‘ “Shoo! Go away,” I said.
    ‘ “Be it on your head,” he
said.
    ‘ “Be it what on my head?”
I asked.’

Chapter
XXIII
    --------------
     
     
     
    MPRESSED BY Heathcliff’s pleas (for it
was he) and his horse (for it was he), on the morrow we journeyed to his home
(for it was his). As we approached, a whiff of tandoori hung in the air. We
entered the kitchen where Joseph, back from Somalia, sat with a quart of ale, his
pipe in his mouth. He was pouring the beer into the bowl and drinking it
through the stem. Cathy ran to the hearth to warm herself by the dogs. I asked
if the master and his horse were in.
    ‘ “Na-ay,” snarled Joseph,
or rather screamed through his nose, expelling a good half a pound of its
contents. Cathy carefully stroked the dog; carefully it bit her.
    ‘ “Na-ay,” snarled Joseph
bringing another half a pound down.
    ‘Then Linton came down in
his dressing-gown. “Joseph!” he said in a poorly voice. “My fire has gone out.”
    ‘ “I know it’ll be back
soon,” said Joseph.
    ‘ “Is that you Miss
Linton?” said Linton.
    ‘ “No, this is me,” she
said and flew to him, covering him in kisses and embraces and fumbling all the
way up to his room where he put his clothes back on.
    ‘ “No! you mustn’t kiss
me,” he said, cringeing back in his chair. “Being stripped naked once is
enough, maybe same again tomorrow, eh?” Linton had a tiresome cough: eventually
even we got tired of it. “You don’t despise me, do you Cathy?” he coughed.
    ‘ “No,” said Cathy. “No,
next to papa I love you more than anything except eel and mushroom pie and
faggots.”
    ‘ “Will Heathcliff be away
many days?” I asked.
    ‘ “Not many,” coughed
Linton. “He is on the moors, it’s the shooting season and he is shooting
gamekeepers and farmhands, it helps to keep them down.”
    ‘There wasn’t much to do so
we pulled our chairs around him coughing for an hour. Then he said, “Did you
know, your mother loved my father?”
    ‘ “Oh, no she didn’t,” we
said.
    ‘ “Oh, yes she did!”
    ‘ “Oh, no she didn’t!”
    ‘ “Oh, yes she did.”
    ‘ “Oh, no she didn’t!”
    ‘ “Oh, yes she did!”
    ‘It was too much fun for
him and he collapsed.
    ‘Cathy was beside herself,
so she moved over to where she was, and gave his chair a violent push: it was
all in fun. Immediately, the little creep was seized with a life-sapping
suffocating cough — it lasted so long we went out for a walk. On our return the
fit was over he lay back covered in bronchial spit.
    ‘ “How do you feel now,
Master Heathcliff?”
    ‘At once the little creep
put on a further display of coughing, moaning and retching, plus body
convulsions. He kept it up for a quarter of an hour, then he had an interval
and we all had tea.
    ‘ “I’m sorry I gave your
chair a violent push.”
    ‘ “Pshaw!” he said, “you
hurt me so I’ll lie awake all night choking with this cough but you won’t care,
you’ll be home warm in bed with eel and mushroom pie with faggots!” He began to
wail, “Aeeeeeough! Aweeeeeough! Ohhhhhhhhugh Wareeeeeeeeee Arghhhh-hhhmyarse
Mie old man said follow the Band!”
    ‘We thanked him for his
entertainment and said we were leaving but, before we did, we were recalled by
a scream “Oweeoughmyarse” from Linton. We found he had slid from his chair and
was lying writhing in his imitation death-throes on the hearth. Unfortunately
it had coincided with a fall of soot from the chimney and he lay there black as
pitch. We doused him with buckets of water until the white began to show,