Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал. Уровень 3. Эмили Бронте

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      'Catherine Linton. I've come home: I lost my way on the moor!'

      As it spoke, I saw a child's face looking through the window.

      'Begone!' I shouted. 'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.'

      'It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years. I have been a waif for twenty years!'

      A feeble scratching outside – and the pile of books moved. I tried to jump up; but could not stir; and so cried aloud, out of fright. Suddenly, hasty footsteps approached my door; somebody pushed it open, and a light glimmered through: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer,

      'Is anyone here?'

      I considered it best to confess my presence.

      Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet. His agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

      'It is only your guest, sir,' I called out. 'I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep. It was a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

      'Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! Go to…' commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady. 'And who showed you up into this room?' he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth. 'Who was it? I'll turn them out of the house this moment!'

      'It was your servant Zillah,' I replied, rapidly resuming my garments. 'I don't care if you do it, Mr. Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted. Well, it is – swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason to shut it up, I assure you. No one will thank you for a sleep in such a den!'

      'What do you mean?' asked Heathcliff, 'and what are you doing? Lie down and finish out

      the night, since you are here; but, for heaven's sake! don't repeat that horrid noise!'

      'If the little fiend gets in at the window, she probably will strangle me!' I returned. 'Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called – she is a wicked little soul! She tells me she has been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal sins!'

      Then I realized Catherine did actually mention Heathcliff in her diaries and blushed at my inconsideration.

      'What do you mean by that?' thundered Heathcliff, 'How – how dare you, under my roof?' Heathcliff reacted very emotionally.

      'Sir, I mean it,' I said.

      'We go to bed at nine in winter, and rise at four,' said my host, suppressing a groan: and dashing a tear from his eyes. 'Mr. Lockwood,' he added, 'you may go into my room. Your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil for me.'

      'And for me, too,' I replied. 'I'll walk in the yard till daylight, and then I'll be off. I'm now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society. A sensible man must find sufficient company in himself.'

      'Delightful company!' muttered Heathcliff. 'Take the candle, and go where you please. I shall join you directly. Keep out of the yard, though, the dogs are unchained; and the house – Juno mounts sentinel there, and – nay, you can only ramble about the steps and passages. But go away! I'll come in two minutes!'

      I obeyed, so far as to quit the chamber; when, ignorant where the narrow lobbies led, I stood still, and was witness, involuntarily, to a piece of superstition on the part of my landlord which belied, oddly, his apparent sense. He got on to the bed, and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears.

      'Come in! come in!' he sobbed. 'Cathy, come! Oh, do – once more! Oh! my heart's darling! hear me this time, Catherine, at last!'

      The spectre showed a spectre's ordinary caprice: it gave no sign of existense; but the snow and wind whirled wildly through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the light.

      There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, that my compassion

      made me overlook its folly. I drew off, angry to listen at all, and vexed. Why did I relate my ridiculous nightmare? It produced that agony that was beyond my comprehension. I descended cautiously to the lower regions, and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of fire, enabled me to rekindle my candle. Nothing was stirring except a brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, and saluted me with a querulous mew.

      In the morning, I had no desire to enjoy a combat between Heathcliff and his daughter-in law, so I declined joining their breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, escaped into the free air, now clear, and still, and cold.

      Chapter IV

      That evening, at Thrushcross Grange, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it.

      'You have lived here a considerable time,' I said; 'did you say sixteen years?'

      'Eighteen, sir: I came when the mistress was married, to wait on her[6]; after she died, the master retained me for his housekeeper. Ah, times are greatly changed since then!'

      'Yes,' I remarked, 'you've seen a good many changes, I suppose?'

      'I have: and troubles too,' she said.

      Then I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff had left Thrushcross Grange, and preferred to live in a situation and residence so much inferior.

      'Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?' I inquired.

      'Rich, sir!' she returned. 'He has a lot of money, and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer house than this: but he's very mean. And if he hears of a good tenant he won't miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange that people can be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!'

      'He had a son, it seems?'

      'Yes, he had one – he is dead.'

      'And that young lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?'

      'Yes.'

      'Where did she come from originally?'

      'Why, sir, she is my late master's daughter: Catherine Linton was her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing[7]!'

      'What! Catherine Linton?' I exclaimed, astonished.

      But a minute's reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine.

      'Then,' I continued, 'my predecessor's name was Linton?'

      'It was.'

      'And who is that Earnshaw: Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr. Heathcliff? Are they relations?'

      'No; he is the late Mrs. Linton's nephew.'

      'The young lady's cousin, then?'

      'Yes; and her husband was her cousin also: one on the mother's, the other on the father's side: Heathcliff СКАЧАТЬ