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Updated: June 10, 2025
He began to teach himself to read once; and, because I laughed, he burned his books, and dropped it: was he not a fool? 'Were not you naughty? I said; 'answer me that. 'Perhaps I was, she went on; 'but I did not expect him to be so silly. Hareton, if I gave you a book, would you take it now? I'll try!
A more elastic footstep entered next; and now I opened my mouth for a 'good-morning, but closed it again, the salutation unachieved; for Hareton Earnshaw was performing his orison sotto voce, in a series of curses directed against every object he touched, while he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig through the drifts.
Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip, and endeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing tendency to sob. 'You should be friends with your cousin, Mr. Hareton, I interrupted, 'since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal of good: it would make you another man to have her for a companion.
Further reflection suggested this must be Hareton, my Hareton, not altered greatly since I left him, ten months since. 'God bless thee, darling! I cried, forgetting instantaneously my foolish fears. 'Hareton, it's Nelly! Nelly, thy nurse. He retreated out of arm's length, and picked up a large flint.
He had the cunning to unlock and re-lock the door, without shutting it; and when he should have gone to bed, he begged to sleep with Hareton, and his petition was granted for once. Catherine stole out before break of day.
The tumult of Wuthering Heights ceases when Heathcliff sickens. It sinks suddenly into the peace and silence of exhaustion. And the drama closes, not in hopeless gloom, the agony of damned souls, but in redemption, reconciliation. Catherine, the child of Catherine and of Edgar Linton, loves Hareton, the child of Hindley Earnshaw.
It is right to establish a good understanding at the beginning. I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said 'How do you do, my dear? He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend. 'Shall you and I be friends, Hareton? was my next essay at conversation. An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not 'frame off' rewarded my perseverance.
I am too happy; and yet I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my body, but does not satisfy itself." ... "In the afternoon, while Joseph and Hareton were at their work, he came into the kitchen again, and, with a wild look, bid me come and sit in the house: he wanted somebody with him.
The redemption of Catherine Linton and Hareton is thrown in by the way in sheer opulence of imagination. It is not insisted on. Redemption is not the keynote of Wuthering Heights. The moral problem never entered into Emily Brontë's head. You may call her what you will Pagan, pantheist, transcendentalist mystic and worshipper of earth, she slips from all your formulas.
Hareton allowed Zillah to give him her aid; and she flattered him into a good humour; so, when Catherine came, half forgetting her former insults, he tried to make himself agreeable, by the housekeeper's account. 'Missis walked in, she said, 'as chill as an icicle, and as high as a princess. I got up and offered her my seat in the arm-chair. No, she turned up her nose at my civility.
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