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Wuthering Heights, xxvii, xxviii

“Catherine’s face was just like the landscape—shadows and sunshine flooding over it in rapid succession” (211). Edgar is slipping away rapidly and inevitably.

The Thursday meeting at the same spot—but now the fear is both evident and admitted.

And now we witness Heathcliff’s tactics. Heathcliff seems inured to tooth and nail, and he responds: that is what the British call “boxing the ears.”

“[Catherine’s] cousin had shrunk to a corner of the settle, as quiet as a mouse, congratulating himself, I daresay, at the correction have a lighted on another than him” (216).

Catherine recovers quickly, and attempt a different tactic: kneeling before Heathcliff and attempts love.

“Keep your eft’s fingers off; and, or I’ll kick you!” cried Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her. “I’d rather be hugged by a snake. How the devil can you dream of fawning on me? I detest you!” (219)

And why is that,  especially, in her case?

xxviii

Heathcliff would not have let Catherine go; she finally convinced Linton, and escapes through her mother’s window, climbing down a tree—an egress that we can assume her mother used as a girl to have a scamper about the moors.

The lawyer Green shows up finally. In Heathcliff’s pocket, he gives a quit order and fires all servants and hands save Nell: Heathcliff remembers her early kindnesses, and is in a sense loyal to those he considers friend.

Wuthering Heights, xxiv, xxv, xxvi

xxiv

I’m glad that chapter’s over. I know we’re supposed to suffer fools but Lord that chapter about makes me lose my religion.

xxv

Edgar senses he hasn’t long.

The correspondences, negotiating a meeting of Catherine and Linton.

Are you familiar with chess? Heathcliff is maneuvering people as pieces, hey? Gaining control of the board…

xxvi

Come just a little further…

…aaaaaand he’s a quarter mile from the Heights with no horse.

Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of; and he had evidently great difficulty sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack of interest in the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity to contribute to her entertainment, were so obvious that she could not conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come over his whole person and manner. The pettiness that might be caressed into fondness, had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of the peevish temper of a child which frets and tease on purpose to be soothed, and more of the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation, ready to regard the good-humored mirth of others as an insult. (208)

[Andersen takes the quill from Brontë and takes over the narrative:

Cathy looks down in resigned disgust as realizes that Linton is indeed a “whey-faced wretch.” She scans the heathered hills, hoping to see no witnesses, and with a wrinkled nose whispers to Ellen, “Can’t we just put him out of his misery or something?”

“Girl! I have waited so long for you to say that!” hissed an electrified Nell, suppressing a jig and producing a shockingly large, long-barreled pistol, Clint Eastwood-like, from under serapé…

ROLL CREDITS

Sigh…]

You see, however, Linton’s terror at his father’s being disappointed with the outcome of the meeting. Heathcliff is apparently quite rough with one of the pieces he’s moving around the board.

Do you have any sympathy for Linton?

Wuthering Heights, xxii, xxiii

Chapter twenty-two starts a second love story — oh what a love story it is!

Catherine is convinced by her father. Phew! Out of danger. But there she is, more “on the fence” than she appears, hey? And she slips over…

The description of the other side of the wall is symbolic, the locked door symbolic, Ellen Dean’s entreaties through said door symbolic…

Nell calls Heathcliff a liar: again, is he lying? (I challenge you to find his lies anywhere in the entire text.)

xxiii

Does anybody sympathize with Linton?

Is anybody not rolling eyes at Catherine?

Is anybody not in Brontë’s pocket at the moment? Dramatic irony much?

Wuthering Heights: Thrushcross Grange

I recommend that you read first, always, and allow your imagination to form the image of character and place. Once that is established, then look at the images that others have created to suit their imaginations.

Visit http://www.wuthering-heights.co.uk/index.php for a source of Brontë’s life and times, the photos and locations of the actual places that likely inspired her, pronunciations, pertinent essays, and more.

Here is that author’s rendering of the layout of Thrushcross Grange:

IMG_0690.JPG

Wuthering Heights: the house

I recommend that you read first, always, and allow your imagination to form the image of character and place. Once that is established, then look at the images that others have created to suit their imaginations.

Visit http://www.wuthering-heights.co.uk/index.php for a source of Brontë’s life and times, the photos and locations of the actual places that likely inspired her, pronunciations, pertinent essays, and more.

Here is that author’s rendering of the layout of Wuthering Heights:

IMG_0689.JPG

Wuthering Heights, xviii, xix

Twelve years beyond Cathy’s death.

“Catherine” now refers to the daughter: she is “the most winning thing that brought sunshine into a desolate house” (155), but is also saucy and petulant.

Catherine wants to wander beyond what is known, but her father forbids it for the avoidance of Heathcliff. One wonders why Ellen Dean did not suss the meaning of “crossing the Desert with caravan” (157).

Catherine Jr. attempts making Penistone Crags, but encountering Hareton near the Heights, and the unsuing dog battle, undoes the plan. A panicked Nell finds her at the house.

Catherine a wonderful time with Hareton until he tells her he’ll be damned to be her servant (157). She is further shocked to learn they are cousins. Hareton is described as althletic and healthy, “good things lost in a field of weeds” (161).

Edgar returns with a weak Linton who cries and cries. He’s not there a whole day before Joseph shows up, on behalf of Linton’s father Heathcliff, to claim him as parent and guardian.

Wuthering Heights, xvii

The ambiguity of Isabella:

“I’ve recovered from my first desire to be killed by him. I’d rather he’d kill himself! He has extinguished my love effectually, and so I’m at my ease. I can recollect yet how I loved him; and can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him, if – no, no!” (143).

“…I’d be glad of a retaliation that wouldn’t recoil on myself; but treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends – they wound those who resort to them, worse than their enemies” (145).