Project Gutenberg #768
Wuthering Heights
Emily Brontë
1847Emily Bronte's moorland Gothic classic, prepared chapter by chapter from Project Gutenberg plaintext.
Project Gutenberg #768 Public domain in the United States Cover source Local typographic cover created for MojiMori from public-domain source metadata
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AI Summary
Chapter 4 — CHAPTER IV Central question How did Heathcliff enter the Earnshaw household? Main argument Nelly begins the family history with Mr. Earnshaw bringing Heathcliff home and upsetting the household’s...
oppressor rather
than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent’s affections
and his privileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these
injuries. I sympathised a while; but when the children fell ill of the
measles, and I had to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at
once, I changed my idea. Heathcliff was dangerously sick; and while he
lay at the worst he would have me constantly by his pillow: I suppose
he felt I did a good deal for him, and he hadn’t wit to guess that I
was compelled to do it. However, I will say this, he was the quietest
child that ever nurse watched over. The difference between him and the
others forced me to be less partial. Cathy and her brother harassed me
terribly: _he_ was as uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not
gentleness, made him give little trouble.
He got through, and the doctor affirmed it was in a great measure owing
to me, and praised me for my care. I was vain of his commendations, and
softened towards the being by whose 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.