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The challenges of climbing up a steep ravine or scrambling down the hurried slope of a hill have provided him with welcome relief from the ubiquity of the moorland. Now, as the last streaks of daylight fade from the blackening sky, he can finally see the warm glow from the half-dozen oil lamps that decorate the windows of the rudimentary rooming house, and he is relieved to think that soon he will rest. As he approaches the shabby establishment, he is reminded that the place has long since passed its infancy, but he relishes the prospect of a plate of hot food and a freshly aired bed. Less pleasant to contemplate is the thought that this arrival marks the end of his precious solitude, for he will now have to reenter the company of his fellowman. Some ten miles ago he endured his sole encounter of the day: a savage-looking individual with both fists clapped on the head of a staff, who loitered at a crossroads and verbally accosted him, impatient to ascertain if he knew of a slab of stone that might serve a penniless wayfarer as a resting place after a hard day scampering on the moors. He answered the menacing man in the negative and, without breaking stride, increased his pace, feeling no stirrings of compassion towards the ruffian. Standing now outside of his moonlit lodgings, he is somewhat alarmed by the muted babble of human conversation that disturbs the tranquillity of the evening, but he knows he must prepare himself.
She wears a tight-fitting bodice and black frock that he is certain must surely impede the boldness of her movement. However, as she serves him, she maintains a magnificently upright yet relaxed posture, and he notices that as ever, much care has been exercised to season everything to his taste. His customary small oak table and chair have been discreetly set in place in the farthest corner by the window, presumably while he briefly repaired to his room. Once there, he washed his hands and face, and the overly solicitous servant boy praised his excellent wardrobe although it was unmistakably blotched and bog spattered. Nevertheless, he offered up a small coin to the scrawny youth, who seemed resolved to please regardless of remuneration. The servingwoman steps back from his table and he looks up at her. Despite her solemn countenance and irregular features, it would be unfair to label this statuesque woman ill favoured or without grace. He knows that later she will charm the guests and play refined melodies on the harp, but she will do so as though skating on a pond of thin ice, circling daintily, careful not to crash through to any depth. (Have you a ship come in, sir?) A furious fire roars and bellows beneath the wide brick flue; it lights up the room and casts outlandish shadows in every direction. There is a playful shyness to the woman, who bestows the merest inkling of a smile upon him before she quits the room. No ship. The recent letter said nothing about a ship.
Dear Sir,
I can no longer maintain the expense of housing your friend, its being past six months since I last received payment of rent. She fails rapidly, and appears to be making haste to leave us, for she possesses neither the strength nor the inclination to beg nature to refrain from tormenting her. I summoned, and paid for, the doctor, who informed me that she cannot sustain much more of this feverish agony, for winter has extended itself and made circumstances unfavourable for all, but especially treacherous for one in her condition. She periodically rallies and lingers, before once more resuming her difficult journey down a steep path of degradation, a descent made all the more hazardous, for she is unable to comfort herself with powders or draughts. I am fearful that the dread contagion, which is clearly visiting misery upon her, may spread rapidly among my properties and encumber me with sick and dying tenants who shall find themselves without means to pay monies owing to me. Sir, I require your assistance, for while it is evident that Providence has treated her brutally, I must insist that she meet her obligations or accept the consequences …
Moonlight streams through the bedroom window, but sleep refuses to soothe his weakened body, and he stares unhappily at the timepiece on the plain mahogany dresser. Outside, he hears the hooting owls as they swoop and hunt near the pile of manure to the back of the barns, and he listens to the high wind as it continues to sob and wail through the flailing trees. In the grate a childish fire sputters and makes one final attempt to snap to feeble life, and as it does so, he again rehearses the events that have propelled him to undertake this inauspicious expedition. He remembers the financial prattle of his Liverpool colleagues’ being irksome to his ears, and as they continued to pontificate, he sat rigid and forlorn as though occupying a church pew. Excuse me, I shall take some air. They watched him leave, knowing that one among them would soon be appointed to counsel their partner on the dangers of a surfeit of melancholy, but at present Mr. Earnshaw’s state of mind was the least of their worries. Once he was out in the street, his gloomy cohorts felt liberated, and they continued to scrutinize the carefully composed entries in the large dusty ledger that lay open before them.
She walked towards him with head held high, but it was obvious that the beguiling woman saw no one. And then, as she turned onto Rope Street, she felt his captivated glow upon her, and she began to fly down the road as if the devil himself were giving chase. Madam, please. Madam. Passersby glowered, but as she slowed to a lively walk, her haughty pout signaled that she cared little for people’s opinions. Will you not simply speak with me for a moment? My God, she misunderstands. The woman suspects that I am proposing a transaction. He laughed, which triggered a spasm of disdain to blemish the woman’s face. Please let me just walk with you a little way. He talked incessantly and marched by her side and attempted to create a great thaw in her defences, but she acted as though she had no perception of what it might cost a man to disclose his affection. My children mock my stubborn choice of clothes. And he talked. I come from a place where a surgeon, two grocers, a confectioner, a butcher, a cabinetmaker, and a wine merchant all ply their trades within a reasonable distance. He talked.
He is assaulted by the noise of clattering clogs that rises from the courtyard below, and then he listens to the ceaseless stamping of restless horses as, eager to step out of the cloud of their own steamy restlessness, they shudder and heave. Moonlight continues to stream in through the uncurtained windows, but he knows that he must soon depart if he is to reach his destination by sundown. Beyond the woman, his two children have populated his dreams and conspired to treat him unfairly. Despite his pleadings, the dreamworld son seems determined to emphasize that his father no longer retains his favour. Meanwhile, the girl has frightened him with her indignant outbursts, and demanded to know why he has not done his children the kindness of consigning both son and daughter to a foundling hospital. Still clad in his stockings, he rubs his eyes to wakefulness and remembers that the children have asked him to buy them gifts in Liverpool, and he hopes that the purchase of a fiddle for the boy and a riding whip for the girl might, on his return, enable him to pass future nights unperturbed by their hectoring.