Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Dinner with the Family
THE NEXT AFTERNOON was set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to visit the Mansion again. On coming up from dinner, however, I made up my mind and took a four miles' walk. However, the first snow storm appeared, but luckily I arrived at Hargreaves' garden gate just in time to escape.
On that bleak hilltop the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain from the gate, I jumped over, and, running up the flooded causeway, knocked vainly at the main door for admittance, till my knuckles tingled. And the dogs howled.
'Wretched inmates!' I ejaculated, mentally, 'you deserve isolation from your species for your inhospitality. At least, I would not keep my doors barred in the daytime. I don't care - I will get in" So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it vehemently.
Suddenly, bitter-faced Javier projected his head from a round window of the barn. "What are you here for?" he shouted. 'The master's round by the end, if you want to speak to him!'
'Is there nobody inside to open the door?' I hallooed, responsively.
'There is nobody but missis; and she will not open it.'
'Why cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Javier?'
'Never me, I have no hand with' muttered the head vanishing.
The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to attempt another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal shed, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful quarter, where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, consisted of coal, peat, and wood. Near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal. I was pleased to find that I was in company of the 'missis,' an individual whose existence I have just expected now. I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained motionless and mute.
'Rough weather!' I remarked. 'I'm afraid, Mrs Collins, the wind must've deafened the servants in the quarter: I had hard work to make them hear me!'
She never opened her mouth. I stared - she stared also. At any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.
"Sit down,' said a new young man, who appeared behind me, gruffly. 'He'll be in soon.'
I obeyed; and stared, and called the villain canine, who was indifferent at this second interview.
'A beautiful animal!' I commenced again. 'Do you intend parting with the little ones, madam?' I asked the missis.
'They are not mine,' said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Hargreaves himself could have replied.
'Ah, your favourites are among these!' I continued, turning to an obscure cushion full of something like cats.
'A strange choice of favourites!' she observed scornfully.
Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits. I wandered once more, and drew closer to the fireplace, repeating my comment on the wildness of the evening.
'You should not have come out,' she said, rising and reaching for the chimney.
Her position before was sheltered from the light; now, I had a distinct view of her whole figure and countenance. She was slender, and apparently scarcely past girlhood. She has an admirable form, and the most exquisite little face that I have ever encountered. She had small features, very fair, or rather golden, ringlets hanging loose on her delicate neck and eyes.
'Were you asked to tea?' she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black frock, and standing with a spoonful of leaf she scooped out from a tin canister into a metal pot.
'I shall be glad to have a cup,' I answered.
'Were you asked?" she repeated.
No,' I said, half smiling. You are the proper person to ask me.
She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed a slouch in the chair, her forehead deepened in a frown, and her red under lip pushed out, like a child's.
Meanwhile, the young man had slung a decidedly shabby upper garment, and, straightening himself before the blaze, looked down on me, from the corner of his eyes. I began to doubt whether he was a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observed in Mr Hargreaves; his thick, brown curls were rough and messy, his facial hair uncultivated, and his hands were embrowned like those of the common labourer. However, still he was free, almost too much liberty, and he showed no care in a common laborer's duty in attending for the lady of the house. With this ambiguity, I decided it best to avoid from further noticing his odd behavior. And, five minutes afterwards, Hargreaves entered the kitchen. It relieved me, in some measure, from my uncomfortable state.
'You see, sir, I have come, according to promise!' I exclaimed, assuming the cheerful; 'and I fear I shall be stuck here due to the weather for half an hour, if you can afford me shelter during that hour.
'Half an hour?' he said, shaking the white flakes from his clothes, 'I wonder you should select the thick of a snowstorm to travel in. Do you know that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People familiar with these moors often miss their road on such evenings, and I can tell you, the snowstorm will last a few more hours at least.'
'Perhaps I can get a guide among your lads, and he might stay at my house till morning - could you spare me one?' I insisted.
'No, I could not.' Hargreaves simply replied.
'Oh, indeed! Well, then, I must trust to my own luck.'
'Are you going to make the tea?' demanded the odd young man of the shabby coat.
'Umph!' Hargreaves shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.
'Is he to have any?" she asked, appealing to Hargreaves.
'Get it ready, will you?' was the answer uttered so savagely. The tone in which the words were said, revealed a genuine nature – I no longer felt inclined to call Hargreaves a capital fellow.
When the preparations were finished, he invited me with: 'Now, bring forward your chair.'
And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round the table, silence prevailing while we discussed our meal. I thought, my presence had added to the inconvenience, so it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it. They could not every day sit so grim, as it was impossible.
'It is strange,' I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea and receiving another, 'it is strange how habits can mould our tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in your isolated and exile life, Mr Hargreaves. Yet, your amiable lady –'
'My amiable lady!' he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his face. 'Where is she - my amiable lady?'
"Mrs Hargreaves, your wife, I mean,' as I signaled to the young lady with the fine looks in front of me.
'Well, yes! Oh! I think you're mistaken her for my daughter-in-law.'
I immediately apologized and attempted to correct my blunder. I might have seen that there was too great a disparity between the ages of the two people to make it likely that they were man and wife. One was about forty; and the other did not look seventeen. Then it flashed upon me: the rustic youth at my elbow, who is drinking his tea out of a basin and eating his bread with unwashed hands, may be her husband.
I scorned at the thought that the fine lady has thrown herself away, from sheer ignorance that better individuals existed by marrying such ruffian. A sad pity. The last reflection may seem conceited, it was not, though I was tolerably attractive.
I saw that Hargeaves stole a peculiar look in her direction, a look of hatred.
'I see now;' I turned to the boy beside me, 'you should be her husband.'
This was worse than before the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist. But he seemed to recollect himself, presently; and, muttered some curses on my behalf which, however, I took care not to notice.
'Certainly not, sir!' observed my host. 'We neither of us have the privilege of owning the fair lass; her mate is dead. I said she was my daughter-in-law, therefore, she must have married my son.'
'And,' he continued, 'this young man is not my son, assuredly!'
Hargreaves smiled mockingly.
'My name is Hareton Collins,' growled the other, 'and I'd counsel you to respect it!
'I've shown no disrespect,' was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which he announced himself.
He fixed his eye on me longer than I scared to return the state, for fear I might be tempted to raise a fit on him. I began to feel unmistakably out of place in that "pleasant" family circle.
We finished our meals, and no one uttering a word of sociable conversation, I approached a window to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight I saw: dark night coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.
'I don't think it possible for me to get home now, without a guide,' I could not help exclaiming.
The roads will be buried already; and, if they were bare, I could scarcely distinguish a foot in advance.
'Hareton, shelter our sheep into the barn porch. They'll be covered if left outside all night,' said Hargreaves.
'How must I do?' I continued, with rising irritation.
There was no reply to my question, and on looking round I saw only Javier bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs, and Mrs Heathcliff leaning over the fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches which she used to light up some candles.
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