IN the course of time Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had beenactive and healthy, yet his strength left him suddenly; and when hewas confined to the chimney-corner he grew grievously irritable. Anothing vexed him; and suspected slights of his authority nearlythrew him into fits. This was especially to be remarked if any oneattempted to impose upon, or domineer over, his favourite: he waspainfully jealous lest a word should be spoken amiss to him;seeming to have got into his head the notion that, because he likedHeathcliff, all hated, and longed to do him an ill-turn. It was adisadvantage to the lad; for the kinder among us did not wish tofret the master, so we humoured his partiality; and that humouringwas rich nourishment to the child's pride and black tempers. Stillit became in a manner necessary; twice, or thrice, Hindley'smanifestation of scorn, while his father was near, roused the oldman to a fury: he seized his stick to strike him, and shook withrage that he could not do it.

At last, our curate (we had a curate then who made the livinganswer by teaching the little Lintons and Earnshaws, and farminghis bit of land himself) advised that the young man should be sentto college; and Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit,for he said - 'Hindley was nought, and would never thrive as wherehe wandered.'

I hoped heartily we should have peace now. It hurt me to think themaster should be made uncomfortable by his own good deed. Ifancied the discontent of age and disease arose from his familydisagreements; as he would have it that it did: really, you know,sir, it was in his sinking frame. We might have got on tolerably,notwithstanding, but for two people - Miss Cathy, and Joseph, theservant: you saw him, I daresay, up yonder. He was, and is yetmost likely, the wearisomest self-righteous Pharisee that everransacked a Bible to rake the promises to himself and fling thecurses to his neighbours. By his knack of sermonising and piousdiscoursing, he contrived to make a great impression on Mr.Earnshaw; and the more feeble the master became, the more influencehe gained. He was relentless in worrying him about his soul'sconcerns, and about ruling his children rigidly. He encouraged himto regard Hindley as a reprobate; and, night after night, heregularly grumbled out a long string of tales against Heathcliffand Catherine: always minding to flatter Earnshaw's weakness byheaping the heaviest blame on the latter.

Certainly she had ways with her such as I never saw a child take upbefore; and she put all of us past our patience fifty times andoftener in a day: from the hour she came down-stairs till the hourshe went to bed, we had not a minute's security that she wouldn'tbe in mischief. Her spirits were always at high-water mark, hertongue always going - singing, laughing, and plaguing everybody whowould not do the same. A wild, wicked slip she was - but she hadthe bonniest eye, the sweetest smile, and lightest foot in theparish: and, after all, I believe she meant no harm; for when onceshe made you cry in good earnest, it seldom happened that she wouldnot keep you company, and oblige you to be quiet that you mightcomfort her. She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatestpunishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate fromhim: yet she got chided more than any of us on his account. Inplay, she liked exceedingly to act the little mistress; using herhands freely, and commanding her companions: she did so to me, butI would not bear slapping and ordering; and so I let her know.

Now, Mr. Earnshaw did not understand jokes from his children: hehad always been strict and grave with them; and Catherine, on herpart, had no idea why her father should be crosser and less patientin his ailing condition than he was in his prime. His peevishreproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him: she wasnever so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and shedefying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words; turningJoseph's religious curses into ridicule, baiting me, and doing justwhat her father hated most - showing how her pretended insolence,which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than hiskindness: how the boy would do HER bidding in anything, and HISonly when it suited his own inclination. After behaving as badlyas possible all day, she sometimes came fondling to make it up atnight. 'Nay, Cathy,' the old man would say, 'I cannot love thee,thou'rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, andask God's pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we everreared thee!' That made her cry, at first; and then being repulsedcontinually hardened her, and she laughed if I told her to say shewas sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.

But the hour came, at last, that ended Mr. Earnshaw's troubles onearth. He died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated bythe fire-side. A high wind blustered round the house, and roaredin the chimney: it sounded wild and stormy, yet it was not cold,and we were all together - I, a little removed from the hearth,busy at my knitting, and Joseph reading his Bible near the table(for the servants generally sat in the house then, after their workwas done). Miss Cathy had been sick, and that made her still; sheleant against her father's knee, and Heathcliff was lying on thefloor with his head in her lap. I remember the master, before hefell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair - it pleased him rarelyto see her gentle - and saying, 'Why canst thou not always be agood lass, Cathy?' And she turned her face up to his, and laughed,and answered, 'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?' Butas soon as she saw him vexed again, she kissed his hand, and saidshe would sing him to sleep. She began singing very low, till hisfingers dropped from hers, and his head sank on his breast. Then Itold her to hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake him. Weall kept as mute as mice a full half-hour, and should have done solonger, only Joseph, having finished his chapter, got up and saidthat he must rouse the master for prayers and bed. He steppedforward, and called him by name, and touched his shoulder; but hewould not move: so he took the candle and looked at him. Ithought there was something wrong as he set down the light; andseizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to 'frame up-stairs, and make little din - they might pray alone that evening -he had summut to do.'

'I shall bid father good-night first,' said Catherine, putting herarms round his neck, before we could hinder her. The poor thingdiscovered her loss directly - she screamed out - 'Oh, he's dead,Heathcliff! he's dead!' And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked whatwe could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven.He told me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctorand the parson. I could not guess the use that either would be of,then. However, I went, through wind and rain, and brought one, thedoctor, back with me; the other said he would come in the morning.Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children's room:their door was ajar, I saw they had never lain down, though it waspast midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to consolethem. The little souls were comforting each other with betterthoughts than I could have hit on: no parson in the world everpictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk;and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishing we wereall there safe together.