Wuthering Heights

means, I earned them, and thus Hindley lost his last ally; still I couldn't dote on Heathcliff, and I wondered often what my master saw to admire so much in the sullen boy who never, to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of gratitude. He was not insolent to his benefactor; he was simply insensible, though knowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart, and conscious he had only to speak and all the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes.
    As an instance, I remember Mr. Earnshaw once bought a couple of colts at the parish fair, and gave the lads each one. Heathcliff took the handsomest, but it soon fell lame, and when he discovered it, he said to Hindley,
    »You must exchange horses with me; I don't like mine, and, if you won't I shall tell your father of the three thrashings you've given me this week, and show him my arm which is black to the shoulder.«
    Hindley put out his tongue, and cuffed him over the ears.
    »You'd better do it, at once,« he persisted escaping to the porch, (they were in the stable) »you will have to, and, if I speak of these blows, you'll get them again with interest.«
    »Off dog!« cried Hindley, threatening him with an iron weight, used for weighing potatoes, and hay.
    »Throw it,« he replied, standing still, »and then I'll tell how you boasted that you would turn me out of doors as soon as he died, and see whether he will not turn you out directly.«
    Hindley threw it, hitting him on the breast, and down he fell, but staggered up, immediately, breathless and white, and had not I prevented it he would have gone just so to the master, and got full revenge by letting his condition plead for him, intimating who had caused it.
    »Take my colt, gipsy, then!« said young Earnshaw, »And I pray that he may break your neck, take him, and be damned, you beggarly interloper! and wheedle my father out of all he has, only, afterwards, show him what you are, imp of Satan – And take that, I hope he'll kick out your brains!«
    Heathcliff had gone to loose the beast, and shift it to his own stall – He was passing behind it, when Hindley finished his speech by knocking him under its feet, and without stopping to examine whether his hopes were fulfilled, ran away as fast as he could.
    I was surprised to witness how coolly the child gathered himself up, and went on with his intention, exchanging saddles and all; and then sitting down on a bundle of hay to overcome the qualm which the violent blow occasioned, before he entered the house.
    I persuaded him easily to let me lay the blame of his bruises on the horse; he minded little what tale was told since he had what he wanted. He complained so seldom, indeed, of such stirs as these, that I really thought him not vindictive – I was deceived, completely, as you will hear.
     
     
Chapter V
    In the course of time, Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly; and when he was confined to the chimney-corner he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed him, and suspected slights of his authority nearly threw him into fits.
    This was especially to be remarked if any one attempted to impose upon, or domineer over his favourite: he was painfully jealous lest a word should be spoken amiss to him, seeming to have got into his head the notion that, because he liked Heathcliff, all hated, and longed to do him an ill-turn.
    It was a disadvantage to the lad, for the kinder among us did not wish to fret the master, so we humoured his partiality; and that humouring was rich nourishment to the child's pride and black tempers. Still it became in a manner necessary; twice, or thrice, Hindley's manifestation of scorn, while his father was near, roused the old man to a fury. He seized his stick to strike him, and shook with rage that he could not do it.
    At last, our curate, (we had a curate then who made the living answer by teaching the little Lintons and Earnshaws, and farming his bit of land himself,) he advised that the young man should be sent to college, and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said –
    »Hindley was nought, and would never thrive as where he wandered.«
    I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt me to think the master should be made uncomfortable by his own good deed. I fancied the discontent of age and disease arose from his family disagreements, as he would have it that it did – really, you know, sir, it was in his sinking frame.
    We might