CHAPTER XIX
A letter, edged with black, announced the day of my master’s return. Isabella was dead; and he wrote to bid me get mourning for his daughter, and arrange a room, and other accommodations, for his youthful nephew. Catherine ran wild with joy at the idea of welcoming her father back; and indulged most sanguine1 anticipations2 of the innumerable excellencies of her “real” cousin. The evening of their expected arrival came. Since early morning she had been busy ordering her own small affairs; and now attired3 in her new black frock—poor thing! her aunt’s death impressed her with no definite sorrow—she obliged me, by constant worrying, to walk with her down through the grounds to meet them.
“Linton is just six months younger than I am,” she chattered4, as we strolled leisurely5 over the swells6 and hollows of mossy turf, under shadow of the trees. “How delightful7 it will be to have him for a playfellow! Aunt Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair; it was lighter8 than mine—more flaxen, and quite as fine. I have it carefully preserved in a little glass box; and I’ve often thought what a pleasure it would be to see its owner. Oh! I am happy—and papa, dear, dear papa! Come, Ellen, let us run! come, run.”
She ran, and returned and ran again, many times before my sober footsteps reached the gate, and then she seated herself on the grassy9 bank beside the path, and tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible: she couldn’t be still a minute.
“How long they are!” she exclaimed. “Ah, I see some dust on the road—they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go a little way—half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say yes, to that clump10 of birches at the turn!”
I refused staunchly. At length her suspense11 was ended: the travelling carriage rolled in sight. Miss Cathy shrieked12 and stretched out her arms as soon as she caught her father’s face looking from the window. He descended13, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable interval14 elapsed ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves. While they exchanged caresses15 I took a peep in to see after Linton. He was asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for my master’s younger brother, so strong was the resemblance: but there was a sickly peevishness16 in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had. The latter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised me to close the door, and leave him undisturbed; for the journey had fatigued17 him. Cathy would fain have taken one glance, but her father told her to come, and they walked together up the park, while I hastened before to prepare the servants.
“Now, darling,” said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted at the bottom of the front steps: “your cousin is not so strong or so merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time since; therefore, don’t expect him to play and run about with you directly. And don’t harass19 him much by talking: let him be quiet this evening, at least, will you?”
“Yes, yes, papa,” answered Catherine: “but I do want to see him; and he hasn’t once looked out.”
The carriage stopped; and the sleeper20 being roused, was lifted to the ground by his uncle.
“This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,” he said, putting their little hands together. “She’s fond of you already; and mind you don’t grieve her by crying to-night. Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is at an end, and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please.”
“Let me go to bed, then,” answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine’s salute21; and he put his fingers to his eyes to remove incipient22 tears.
“Come, come, there’s a good child,” I whispered, leading him in. “You’ll make her weep too—see how sorry she is for you!”
I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad a countenance23 as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered, and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to remove Linton’s cap and mantle24, and placed him on a chair by the table; but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired what was the matter.
“I can’t sit on a chair,” sobbed25 the boy.
“Go to the sofa, then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea,” answered his uncle patiently.
He had been greatly tried, during the journey, I felt convinced, by his fretful ailing26 charge. Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down. Cathy carried a footstool and her cup to his side. At first she sat silent; but that could not last: she had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be; and she commenced stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better: he dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.
“Oh, he’ll do very well,” said the master to me, after watching them a minute. “Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a child of his own age will instil27 new spirit into him soon, and by wishing for strength he’ll gain it.”
“Ay, if we can keep him!” I mused28 to myself; and sore misgivings29 came over me that there was slight hope of that. And then, I thought, how ever will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights? Between his father and Hareton, what playmates and instructors30 they’ll be. Our doubts were presently decided—even earlier than I expected. I had just taken the children upstairs, after tea was finished, and seen Linton asleep—he would not suffer me to leave him till that was the case—I had come down, and was standing31 by the table in the hall, lighting32 a bedroom candle for Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen and informed me that Mr. Heathcliff’s servant Joseph was at the door, and wished to speak with the master.
“I shall ask him what he wants first,” I said, in considerable trepidation33. “A very unlikely hour to be troubling people, and the instant they have returned from a long journey. I don’t think the master can see him.”
Joseph had advanced through the kitchen as I uttered these words, and now presented himself in the hall. He was donned in his Sunday garments, with his most sanctimonious34 and sourest face, and, holding his hat in one hand, and his stick in the other, he proceeded to clean his shoes on the mat.
“Good-evening, Joseph,” I said, coldly. “What business brings you here to-night?”
“It’s Maister Linton I mun spake to,” he answered, waving me disdainfully aside.
“Mr. Linton is going to bed; unless you have something particular to say, I’m sure he won’t hear it now,” I continued. “You had better sit down in there, and entrust35 your message to me.”
“Which is his rahm?” pursued the fellow, surveying the range of closed doors.
I perceived he was bent36 on refusing my mediation37, so very reluctantly I went up to the library, and announced the unseasonable visitor, advising that he should be dismissed till next day. Mr. Linton had no time to empower me to do so, for Joseph mounted close at my heels, and, pushing into the apartment, planted himself at the far side of the table, with his two fists clapped on the head of his stick, and began in an elevated tone, as if anticipating opposition—
“Hathecliff has sent me for his lad, and I munn’t goa back ’bout18 him.”
Edgar Linton was silent a minute; an expression of exceeding sorrow overcast38 his features: he would have pitied the child on his own account; but, recalling Isabella’s hopes and fears, and anxious wishes for her son, and her commendations of him to his care, he grieved bitterly at the prospect39 of yielding him up, and searched in his heart how it might be avoided. No plan offered itself: the very exhibition of any desire to keep him would have rendered the claimant more peremptory40: there was nothing left but to resign him. However, he was not going to rouse him from his sleep.
“Tell Mr. Heathcliff,” he answered calmly, “that his son shall come to Wuthering Heights to-morrow. He is in bed, and too tired to go the distance now. You may also tell him that the mother of Linton desired him to remain under my guardianship41; and, at present, his health is very precarious42.”
“Noa!” said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop43 on the floor, and assuming an authoritative44 air. “Noa! that means naught45. Hathecliff maks noa ’count o’ t’ mother, nor ye norther; but he’ll hev his lad; und I mun tak’ him—soa now ye knaw!”
“You shall not to-night!” answered Linton decisively. “Walk down stairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, show him down. Go—”
And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of him and closed the door.
“Varrah weell!” shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. “To-morn, he’s come hisseln, and thrust him out, if ye darr!”
1 sanguine [ˈsæŋgwɪn] 第9级 | |
adj.充满希望的,乐观的,血红色的 | |
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2 anticipations [ænˌtɪsəˈpeɪʃənz] 第8级 | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
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3 attired [əˈtaiəd] 第10级 | |
adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服,使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 chattered [ˈtʃætəd] 第7级 | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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5 leisurely [ˈleʒəli] 第9级 | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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6 swells [swelz] 第7级 | |
增强( swell的第三人称单数 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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7 delightful [dɪˈlaɪtfl] 第8级 | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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8 lighter [ˈlaɪtə(r)] 第8级 | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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9 grassy [ˈgrɑ:si] 第9级 | |
adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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10 clump [klʌmp] 第10级 | |
n.树丛,草丛;vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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11 suspense [səˈspens] 第8级 | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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12 shrieked [ʃri:kt] 第7级 | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13 descended [di'sendid] 第7级 | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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14 interval [ˈɪntəvl] 第7级 | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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15 caresses [kə'resɪs] 第7级 | |
爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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16 peevishness ['pi:viʃnis] 第12级 | |
脾气不好;爱发牢骚 | |
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17 fatigued [fə'ti:gd] 第7级 | |
adj. 疲乏的 | |
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18 bout [baʊt] 第9级 | |
n.侵袭,发作;一次(阵,回);拳击等比赛 | |
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19 harass [ˈhærəs] 第9级 | |
vt.使烦恼,折磨,骚扰 | |
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20 sleeper [ˈsli:pə(r)] 第7级 | |
n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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21 salute [səˈlu:t] 第7级 | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
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22 incipient [ɪnˈsɪpiənt] 第9级 | |
adj.起初的,发端的,初期的 | |
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23 countenance [ˈkaʊntənəns] 第9级 | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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24 mantle [ˈmæntl] 第9级 | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;vt.&vi.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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25 sobbed ['sɒbd] 第7级 | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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26 ailing ['eiliŋ] 第11级 | |
v.生病 | |
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27 instil [ɪnˈstɪl] 第11级 | |
vt.逐渐灌输 | |
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28 mused [m'ju:zd] 第8级 | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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29 misgivings [mɪs'ɡɪvɪŋz] 第8级 | |
n.疑虑,担忧,害怕;疑虑,担心,恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 );疑惧 | |
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30 instructors [ɪnst'rʌktəz] 第7级 | |
指导者,教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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31 standing [ˈstændɪŋ] 第8级 | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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32 lighting [ˈlaɪtɪŋ] 第7级 | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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33 trepidation [ˌtrepɪˈdeɪʃn] 第11级 | |
n.惊恐,惶恐 | |
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34 sanctimonious [ˌsæŋktɪˈməʊniəs] 第10级 | |
adj.假装神圣的,假装虔诚的,假装诚实的 | |
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35 entrust [ɪnˈtrʌst] 第8级 | |
vt.信赖,信托,交托 | |
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36 bent [bent] 第7级 | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的;v.(使)弯曲,屈身(bend的过去式和过去分词) | |
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37 mediation [ˌmi:di'eiʃən] 第9级 | |
n.调解 | |
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38 overcast [ˌəʊvəˈkɑ:st] 第10级 | |
adj.阴天的,阴暗的,愁闷的;v.遮盖,(使)变暗,包边缝;n.覆盖,阴天 | |
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39 prospect [ˈprɒspekt] 第7级 | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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40 peremptory [pəˈremptəri] 第11级 | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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41 guardianship [ˈgɑ:diənʃɪp] 第7级 | |
n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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42 precarious [prɪˈkeəriəs] 第9级 | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
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43 prop [prɒp] 第7级 | |
vt.支撑;n.支柱,支撑物;支持者,靠山 | |
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44 authoritative [ɔ:ˈθɒrətətɪv] 第7级 | |
adj.有权威的,可相信的;命令式的;官方的 | |
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