Wuthering Heights

fair shaamed to 'bide still and see it.«
    She did not stay to retaliate, but re-entered, in a minute, bearing a reaming, silver pint, whose contents I lauded with becoming earnestness. And afterwards she furnished me with the sequel of Heathcliff's history. He had a ›queer‹ end, as she expressed it.
     
    I was summoned to Wuthering Heights, within a fortnight of your leaving us, she said; and I obeyed joyfully, for Catherine's sake.
    My first interview with her grieved and shocked me! she had altered so much since our separation. Mr. Heathcliff did not explain his reasons for taking a new mind about my coming here; he only told me he wanted me, and he was tired of seeing Catherine, I must make the little parlour my sitting room, and keep her with me. It was enough if he were obliged to see her once or twice a day.
    She seemed pleased at this arrangement; and, by degrees, I smuggled over a great number of books, and other articles, that had formed her amusement at the Grange; and flattered myself we should get on in tolerable comfort.
    The delusion did not last long. Catherine, contented at first, in a brief space grew irritable and restless. For one thing, she was forbidden to move out of the garden, and it fretted her sadly to be confined to its narrow bounds, as Spring drew on – for another, in following the house, I was forced to quit her frequently, and she complained of loneliness; she preferred quarrelling with Joseph in the kitchen, to sitting at peace in her solitude.
    I did not mind their skirmishes; but Hareton was often obliged to seek the kitchen also, when the master wanted to have the house to himself; and, though, in the beginning, she either left it at his approach, or quietly joined in my occupations, and shunned remarking, or addressing him – and though he was always as sullen and silent, as possible – after a while, she changed her behaviour, and became incapable of letting him alone. Talking at him; commenting on his stupidity and idleness; expressing her wonder how he could endure the life he lived – how he could sit a whole evening staring into the fire, and dozing.
    »He's just like a dog, is he not, Ellen?« she once observed, »or a cart-horse? He does his work, eats his food, and sleeps, eternally! What a blank, dreary mind he must have! Do you ever dream, Hareton? And, if you do, what is it about? But, you can't speak to me!«
    Then she looked at him; but he would neither open his mouth, nor look again.
    »He's perhaps, dreaming now,« she continued. »He twitched his shoulder as Juno twitches hers. Ask him, Ellen.«
    »Mr. Hareton will ask the master to send you up stairs, if you don't behave!« I said. He had not only twitched his shoulder, but clenched his fist, as if tempted to use it.
    »I know why Hareton never speaks, when I am in the kitchen,« she exclaimed, on another occasion. »He is afriad I shall laugh at him. Ellen, what do you think? He began to teach himself to read once; and, because I laughed, he burned his books, and dropped it – was he not a fool?«
    »Were not you naughty?« I said; »answer me that.«
    »Perhaps I was,« she went on, »but I did not expect him to be so silly. Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try!«
    She placed one she had been perusing on his hand; he flung it off, and muttered, if she did not give over, he would break her neck.
    »Well, I shall put it here,« she said, »in the table drawer, and I'm going to bed.«
    Then she whispered me to watch whether he touched it, and departed. But he would not come near it, and so I informed her in the morning, to her great disappointment. I saw she was sorry for his persevering sulkiness and indolence – her conscience reproved her for frightening him off improving himself – she had done it effectually.
    But her ingenuity was at work to remedy the injury; while I ironed, or pursued other stationary employments I could not well do in the parlour – she would bring some pleasant volume, and read it aloud to me. When Hareton was there, she generally paused in an interesting part, and left the book lying about – that she did repeatedly; but he was as obstinate as a mule, and, instead of snatching at her bait, in wet weather he took to smoking with Joseph, and they sat like automatons, one on each side of the fire, the elder happily too deaf to understand her wicked nonsense, as he would have called it, the younger doing his best to seem to disregard it. On fine