Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
of the horses; somebody must go,” murmured Mrs. Heathcliff,
more kindly than I expected.
“Not at your command!” retorted Hareton. “If you set store on
him, you’d better be quiet.”
“Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr.
Heathcliff will never get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin!”
she answered sharply.
“Hearken, hearken, shoo’s cursing on ’em!” muttered Joseph,
towards whom I had been steering.
He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern,
which I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I would send
it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest postern.
“Maister, maister, he’s staling t’ lantern!” shouted the ancient,
pursuing my retreat. “Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey, Wolf, holld
him, holld him!”
On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at my
throat, bearing me down and extinguishing the light; while a
mingled guffaw, from Heathcliff and Hareton, put the copestone
on my rage and humiliation. Fortunately, the beasts seemed more
bent on stretching their paws and yawning, and flourishing their
tails, than devouring me alive; but they would suffer no
resurrection, and I was forced to lie till their malignant masters
pleased to deliver me; then, hatless and trembling with wrath, I
ordered the miscreants to let me out--on their peril to keep me
one minute longer--with several incoherent threats of retaliation
that, in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.
The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding
at the nose, and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded. I don’t
know what would have concluded the scene, had there not been