Wuthering Heights

dying.” I was sitting by
the hearth knitting, Joseph was reading the Bible, Miss Cathy had her head in
her father’s lap, Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap —
they looked like contortionists. Cathy was in the middle of telling Mr Earnshaw
a joke when suddenly she realized Mr Earnshaw had snuffed it. She screamed out,
“Oh, he’s dead, Heathcliff! He’s dead. Quick, the policy.” She burst into
tears. “He’ll never eat horse meat again!” she said. “He’s never done this
before,” said Heathcliff. Joseph told me to run for the doctor. I couldn’t see
what use either would be. The doctor arrived, he examined Mr Earnshaw. “This
man is dead,” he said. “That will be two guineas.”

Chapter
VI
    ------------
     
     
     
    R HINDLEY came home for the funeral.
He had brought his wife so she could enjoy it too.
    ‘Now it was Young Earnshaw
who was the new master — since a boy he had changed. He had grown sparer, it
was growing everywhere, in fact he was covered in it, and he dressed
differently with his trousers back to front, against high tide. He told me that
we must quarter ourselves in the back kitchen. Mr Hindley took over the rest of
the house. He became tyrannical, he only allowed Heathcliff to work outdoors,
he refused him his curry, forcing him to eat sausage and chips. It broke his
heart. Many times Joseph would thrash Heathcliff to warm himself up, and Cathy
would be denied her dinner. Heathcliff and Cathy would run away in the mornings
to the moors returning late at night, shagged out. Many a time I cried to
myself to watch them daily becoming more reckless every day. Sometimes she’d go
without knickers. As to the new mistress Mrs Earnshaw, she was not a well
woman, mounting the stairs made her breathless and she had to stop, it took her
three days to get to the first floor. She was very thin, causing a constant
falling off of her clothes. I tell you, Mr Lockwood, it was not a happy home.
    ‘One Sunday evening as
Cathy and the Pakistani practised Sumo wrestling they were banished from the
sitting room for grunting. When I went to call them for supper, they had gone.
We searched everywhere, but they were not there, so they must be somewhere
else. “Sod them,” said Mr Hindley, and bolted the doors for the night. I sat on
my bed listening. I heard footsteps approaching. I threw a shawl over my head
and ran into the wall. At the door was Heathcliff. It gave me a start.
    ‘Having started, I said,
“Where’s Cathy?” “Let me get my wet clothes off,” he said. I bade him beware of
rousing the master, and while he undressed I caught sight of his twelve inches,
and had to stifle a cry of delight. “We ran from here to Thrushcross Grange,”
said Heathcliff. “Cathy won because she was barefoot.” He continued, “We looked
through the windows of the Grange, the Linton children were there, Isabella lay
screaming at one end of the room, Edgar stood at the other end crying, in the
middle lay a dog yelping which the children had nearly pulled in two, it lay
there now seven feet long. Then they saw us. “Run, Heathcliff, run,” Cathy
whispered. “They have let the bulldog loose, my leg is half way down its
throat.” Heathcliff vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in
Christendom, the dog seemed not to understand — perhaps he was deaf — so he got
a rock, dropped it on his head, then rammed it down his throat.
    ‘A servant came running
“Keep fast, Skulker, keep fast.” But when he saw Skulker he said, “Oh fuck.” He
carried Cathy into the home while Heathcliff carried Skulker. “What goes on?”
halloed Mr Linton. “Skulker has caught a little girl and this lad...” Mrs
Linton came forward. She looked at Heathcliff. “Be careful you don’t catch
tandoori off him, they’ve all got it.” They took Cathy in to look after her
leg, and they told Heathcliff to bugger off.’

Chapter
VII
    ----------
     
     
     
    FEAR YOU have not heard the last of
this,” I said. Cathy stayed at Thrushcross Grange for five weeks, by which time
her leg was  better and Skulker was dead. She rode back on a handsome
black horse. “Why, Cathy, you and your horse look quite beautiful,” said
Hindley as he patted them both. Indeed the stay at the Lintons had transformed
her from a waif to a lady in fine clothes.
    ‘ “Nelly,” said Hindley.
“Help Cathy with her clothes.”
    ‘ “Stay, dear,” I said.
“Let me untie your hat.”
    ‘ “That’s my