Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал. Уровень 3. Эмили Бронте

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      'I see the house at Wuthering Heights has “Earnshaw” carved over the front door. Are they an old family?'

      'Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us – I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights? I beg pardon for asking; but I want to hear how she is.'

      'Mrs. Heathcliff? She looked very well, and very handsome; yet, I think, not very happy.'

      'Oh dear, I don't wonder! And how did you like the master?'

      'A rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?'

      'Indeed! The less you meddle with him the better. I know all about it: except where he was born, and who were his parents, and how he got his money at first. And Hareton was cast out like a dog! The unfortunate lad is the only one in all this parish that does not guess how he was cheated.'

      'Well, Mrs. Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to sit and talk.'

      And so she told me the whole story.

      Before I came to live here, she said, I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my mother had nursed Mr. Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father. I used to play with the children, I helped a little, too. One fine summer morning – it was the beginning of harvest, I remember – Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, went to Liverpool for a short time. But it seemed a long time to us all – the three days of his absence. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time on the third evening, but only about eleven o'clock, the door opened, and the master stepped in. He threw himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, as he was exhausted.

      'But see here, wife!' he said, opening his great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms. 'You must take it as a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came from the devil.'

      We crowded round, and there was a dirty, ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk. Indeed, its face looked older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its feet, it only stared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors. She was angry, asking how he could bring that gipsy into the house, when they had their own children to feed. The master, apparently, saw the child, starving and houseless, in the streets of Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Nobody knew to whom it belonged. Well, the conclusion was, that my mistress got calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with the children. He promised some presents for them, but they all got lost or broken while he was attending to the stranger. Hindley and Cathy were not happy about it, of course. They entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room. I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping it might go in the morbibg. By chance, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw's door, and there he found it. Inquiries were made; I was obliged to confess. Because of my cowardice and inhumanity, I was sent out of the house.

      On coming back a few days afterwards, I found they had christened him 'Heathcliff': it was the name of a son who died in childhood. Miss Cathy and he were now very close; but Hindley hated him. To say the truth, I did the same. We plagued and treated him shamefully: for I wasn't reasonable enough to feel my injustice, and the mistress never protected him, too.

      He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment. He was standing Hindley's blows without winking. This endurance made old Earnshaw furious; he believed all the boy said (and he said precious little, and generally the truth), and loved him more than Cathy, who was too mischievous and wayward.

      So, from the very beginning, he was an apple of discord in the house. At Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years after, the young master, Hindley, saw his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent's affections and his privileges. I sympathised a while; but when the children fell ill with the measles, and I had to tend them, I changed my mind. Heathcliff was as uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble. Thus Hindley lost me, his last ally. Heathcliff complained so seldom, indeed, even when he got seriously beaten by his brother, that I really thought him not vindictive. I was deceived completely, as you will hear.

      Chapter V

      In the course of time Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He was active and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly. When he had to always stay indoors by the fire he became irritable, especially if anyone attempted to domineer over his favourite.

      At last, our curate advised to send Hindley to college; and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said his son wasn't able enough.

      I hoped heartily to have peace now. We might live tolerably, but for two people – Miss Cathy, and Joseph, the servant: you saw him, I think. He is the most wearisome selfrighteous Pharisee, but he made a great impression on Mr. Earnshaw. The more feeble the master became, the more influence he gained. He was relentless in worrying him about his soul's concerns, and about ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged him to regard Hindley as a reprobate; and, night after night, he told tales against Heathcliff and Catherine.

      Cathy was wild and wicked – but she had the bonniest eye, the sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish: and, after all, I believe she meant no harm. She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him. She had no idea why her father was so cross, either. His peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him. She was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words. She was turning Joseph's religious curses into ridicule, and doing just what her father hated most – showing how her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness. But master couldn't forgive her even when she tried to be good. That made her cry, at first. Then she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.

      Mr. Earnshaw died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by the fireside. Before he fell asleep, his last phrase to his daughter was,

      'Why cannot you always be a good girl, Cathy?'

      And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered,

      'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?'

      But she kissed his hand, and promised to sing for him. Then I told her to hush, and we all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour. After that, the master never woke up.

      Chapter VI

      Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and he brought a wife with him! What she was, and where she was born, he never informed us. Probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her. He kept the union from his father. I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour.

      Young Earnshaw was changed considerably in the three years of his absence. On the very day of his return, he told Joseph and me we must now live in the back-kitchen. His wife expressed pleasure at everything she saw. She was glad to find a sister among her new acquaintance, too. She chatted to Catherine, and kissed her, and gave her many presents, at the beginning. Her affection tired very soon, however, and when she grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical. A few words from her, showing dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his old hatred of the boy. He drove him from their company to the servants. He stopped his studies. Heathcliff had to work outdoors instead.

      Heathcliff bore this pretty well at first, because Cathy taught him what she learnt, and worked or played with him in the fields. They both were growing up as rude as savages. It was СКАЧАТЬ