WUTHERING HEIGHTS
A monologue from the
novel by Emily Brontë
|
NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Wuthering Heights. Emily Brontë. New York: Harper
& Brothers, 1848. |
|
|
MRS. DEAN: Before I came to live here, I was almost
always at Wuthering Heights; because my mother had nursed Mr.
Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father, and I got used to
playing with the children: I ran errands too, and helped to make
hay, and hung about the farm ready for anything that anybody
would set me to. One fine summer morning -- it was the beginning
of harvest, I remember -- Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came
down-stairs, dressed for a journey; and, after he had told Joseph
what was to be done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and
Cathy, and me -- for I sat eating my porridge with them -- and
he said, speaking to his son, "Now, my bonny man, I'm going
to Liverpool to-day, what shall I bring you? You may choose what
you like: only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back:
sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!" Hindley named
a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she was hardly six years
old, but she could ride any horse in the stable, and she chose
a whip. He did not forget me; for he had a kind heart, though
he was rather severe sometimes. He promised to bring me a pocketful
of apples and pears, and then he kissed his children, said good-bye,
and set off. It seemed a long while to us all -- the three days
of his absence -- and often did little Cathy ask when he would
be home. Mrs. Earnshaw expected him by supper-time on the third
evening, and she put the meal off hour after hour; there were
no signs of his coming, however, and at last the children got
tired of running down to the gate to look. Then it grew dark;
she would have had them to bed, but they begged sadly to be allowed
to stay up; and, just about eleven o'clock, the door-latch was
raised quietly, and in stepped the master. He threw himself into
a chair, laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for
he was nearly killed -- he would not have such another walk for
the three kingdoms. "And at the end of it to be flighted
to death!" he said, opening his great-coat, which he held
bundled up in his arms. "See here, wife! I was never so
beaten with anything in my life: but you must e'en take it as
a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came from
the devil." We crowded round, and over Miss Cathy's head
I had a peep at 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 did fly up, asking how he could fashion to bring
that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns
to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether
he were mad? The master tried to explain the matter; but he was
really half dead with fatigue, and all that I could make out,
amongst her scolding, was a tale of his seeing it starving, and
houseless, and as good as dumb, in the streets of Liverpool,
where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Not a soul
knew to whom it belonged, he said; and his money and time being
both limited, he thought it better to take it home with him at
once, than run into vain expenses there: because he was determined
he would not leave it as he found it. Well, the conclusion was,
that my mistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told
me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with
the children. Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking
and listening till peace was restored: then, both began searching
their father's pockets for the presents he had promised them.
The former was a boy of fourteen, but when he drew out what had
been a fiddle, crushed to morsels in the great-coat, he blubbered
aloud; and Cathy, when she learned the master had lost her whip
in attending on the stranger, showed her humour by grinning and
spitting at the stupid little thing; earning for her pains a
sound blow from her father, to teach her cleaner manners. They
entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their
room; and I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of
the stairs, hoping it might he gone on the morrow. By chance,
or else attracted by hearing his voice, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw's
door, and there he found it on quitting his chamber. Inquiries
were made as to how it got there; I was obliged to confess, and
in recompense for my cowardice and inhumanity was sent out of
the house. This was Heathcliff's first introduction to the family.
MORE
MONOLOGUES BY EMILY BRONTË |
