Chapter 41

Meeting on the moors

01 Cathy was obedient to her father's commands. Her affection for him was still the first feeling in her heart. He had spoken to her without anger, and with the deep tenderness of one who is about to leave his treasure among dangers and enemies. A few days later, he said to me:

02 'I wish my nephew would write, Ellen, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what you think of him. Is he changed for the better, or is there hope of improvement as he grows up?'

03 'He's very delicate, sir,' I replied, 'and scarcely likely to reach manhood, but this I can say: he is not like his father, and if Miss Cathy had the misfortune to marry him, he would not be beyond her control.'

04 Edgar sighed, and walking to the window, looked out towards Gimmerton church.

05 'I've often prayed,' he said, 'for the time to come when I should be laid by my wife over there. But now I'm beginning to fear it. What can I do for Cathy? How can I leave her? I'd not care for one moment that Linton is Heathcliff's son, if he could comfort her for my loss. But if he should be unworthy—only a weak slave to his father—I cannot leave her to him!'

06 Spring advanced, yet my master gained no real strength. He began once more his walks in the grounds with his daughter, and, to her inexperienced eye, the colour in his cheeks and the brightness in his eyes were signs of a return to health.

07 He wrote once more to his nephew, expressing his desire to see him, and if the sick boy had been really fit to go out so far, I've no doubt his father would have permitted him. As it was, Linton returned an answer saying that Mr Heathcliff objected to his visiting the Grange, but that he himself hoped to meet his uncle on his walks, and his cousin also.

08 Edgar, though he sympathized with the boy, could not at that time of year yield to his request, because he himself could not be Cathy's companion. When summer came, and June still found him losing strength, he was at last persuaded to let the cousins ride or walk together, about once a week, under my guardianship. Though he had set aside a yearly part of his income so that Cathy might have enough money when he died, he had a natural desire that she might keep, or at least return in a short time to her old family home, and he considered her only chance of doing that was by a marriage with his heir.

09 He had no idea that his nephew was failing in health almost as fast as himself; nor had anyone, I believe. No doctor visited the Heights, and no one saw Master Heathcliff to make report of his condition among us. I, myself, began to imagine my fears were false, and that he must actually be growing stronger, when he suggested riding and walking on the moors. I did not realize how wickedly his father treated him when he saw his heartless plans were threatened with defeat by death.

10 It was already past midsummer when Cathy and I set out on her first ride to join her cousin. It was a heavy day, without sunshine. Our place of meeting had been fixed where two roads met, but when we arrived there, a little farm boy, sent as messenger, told us that Master Heathcliff was just this side of the Heights, and would be very grateful if we would go on a little farther.

11 We found him scarcely a quarter of a mile from his own door. He lay on the ground, waiting for us to approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. He walked with difficulty, and looked very pale.

12 Cathy looked at him in grief and astonishment, and asked whether he was worse than usual.

13 'No, better—better,' he replied, breathlessly, trembling and holding on to her hand, as if he needed support.

14 'But you look worse,' repeated his cousin. 'You are thinner, and ... '

15 'I'm tired,' he interrupted, hurriedly. 'It's too hot for walking. Let's rest here. I often feel sick. Papa says I'm growing too fast.'

16 Cathy sat down, and he lay beside her. She talked, and he listened. He clearly had great difficulty in keeping up any kind of conversation. His lack of interest in what was said to him, and his lack of power to amuse her in any way, were so plain, that she could not hide her disappointment.

17 A change had come over his whole person and manner. The disagreeable look had given place to a dull weakness: there was less childish temper and more of the self-pitying low spirits of a continually sick person. Cathy noticed as well as I did, that he felt it a punishment, rather than a pleasure, to suffer our company, and she made no hesitation about proposing, a little later, to leave.

18 This proposal, unexpectedly, excited Linton, and threw him into a strange state of fear. He looked anxiously towards the Heights, begging that she would remain another half-hour, at least.

19 'Stay to rest yourself,' he said. 'And, Cathy, don't think or say that I am very unwell. It's the heavy weather and heat that makes me dull. I walked about, before you came, a great deal. Tell Uncle I'm in rather good health, will you?'

20 'I'll tell him that you say so,' replied my young lady, wondering.

21 'And be here again next Thursday,' he continued, avoiding her puzzled look. 'And—and, if you do meet my father, don't let him suppose that I've been silent and stupid. Don't look sad, or he'll be angry.'

22 'Is he severe to you now, Master Heathcliff?' I inquired.

23 Linton looked at me, but he did not answer. After another ten minutes, during which his head fell sleepily on his breast, and he did nothing but groan with weariness or pain, Cathy began to pick berries to amuse herself.

24 'Why did he wish to see me?' she asked, in a low voice. 'It's just as if it were a duty he was forced to do, for fear that his father should scold him. But I'm hardly coming to give Mr Heathcliff pleasure.'

25 Linton suddenly awoke.

26 'I thought I heard my father!' he exclaimed. 'Be quiet! He's coming.' And he held on to Cathy's arm.

27 Cathy freed herself and called to her pony.

28 'I'll be here next Thursday,' she cried, jumping into the saddle. 'Goodbye. Quick, Ellen.'

29 When we reached home, my master requested an account of the meeting. Both Cathy and I said little: Cathy, because she suspected that her cousin was pretending as usual that his sufferings were greater than they were, and I, because I hardly knew what to hide, and what to tell.