Wuthering Heights

me as bordering on repulsive. I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.
    »Mrs. Heathcliff is my daughter-in-law,« said Heathcliff, corroborating my surmise. He turned, as he spoke, a peculiar look in her direction, a look of hatred unless he has a most perverse set of facial muscles that will not, like those of other people, interpret the language of his soul.
    »Ah, certainly – I see now; you are the favoured possessor of the beneficent fairy,« I remarked, turning to my neighbour.
    This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist with every appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himself, presently; and smothered the storm in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf, which, however, I took care not to notice.
    »Unhappy in your conjectures, sir!« observed my host; »we neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said she was my daughter-in-law, therefore, she must have married my son.«
    »And this young man is –«
    »Not my son, assuredly!«
    Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute the paternity of that bear to him.
    »My name is Hareton Earnshaw,« growled the other; »and I'd counsel you to respect it!«
    »I've shown no disrespect,« was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which he announced himself.
    He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear I might be tempted either to box his ears, or render my hilarity audible. I began to feel unmistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle. The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralized the glowing physical comforts round me; and I resolved to be cautious how I ventured under those rafters a third time.
    The business of eating being concluded, and no one uttering a word of sociable conversation, I approached a window to examine the weather.
    A sorrowful sight I saw; dark night coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.
    »I don't think it possible for me to get home now, without a guide,« I could not help exclaiming. »The roads will be buried already; and, if they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.«
    »Hareton, drive those dozen sheep into the barn porch. They'll be covered if left in the fold all night; and put a plank before them,« said Heathcliff.
    »How must I do?« I continued, with rising irritation.
    There was no reply to my question; and, on looking round, I saw only Joseph bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs; and Mrs. Heathcliff, leaning over the fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches which had fallen from the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its place.
    The former, when he had deposited his burden, took a critical survey of the room; and, in cracked tones, grated out:
    »Aw woonder hagh yah can faishion tub stand thear i' idleness un war, when all on 'em's goan aght! Bud yah're anowt, audit's noa use talking – yah'll niver mend uh yer ill ways; bud, goa raight tuh t' divil, like yer mother afore ye!«
    I imagined, for a moment, that this piece of eloquence was addressed to me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal with an intention of kicking him out of the door.
    Mrs. Heathcliff, however, checked me by her answer.
    »You scandalous old hypocrite!« she replied. »Are you not afraid of being carried away bodily, whenever you mention the devil's name? I warn you to refrain from provoking me, or I'll ask your abduction as a special favour. Stop, look here, Joseph,« she continued, taking a long, dark book from a shelf. »I'll show you how far I've progressed in the Black Art – I shall soon be competent to make a clear house of it. The red cow didn't die by chance; and your rheumatism can hardly be reckoned among providential visitations!«
    »Oh, wicked, wicked!« gasped the elder, »may the Lord deliver us from evil!«
    »No, reprobate! you are a castaway – be off, or I'll hurt you seriously! I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay; and the first who passes the limits, I fix, shall – I'll not say what he shall be done to – but, you'll see! Go, I'm looking at you!«
    The little witch put a mock malignity into her beautiful eyes, and Joseph, trembling with sincere horror, hurried out praying and ejaculating ›wicked‹ as he went.
    I thought her conduct must be prompted by a species of dreary