So this was how the cuckoo came to live in the Earnshaws’ nest. Mr. Earnshaw called him Heathcliff – the only name he ever had – and he and Miss Cathy soon became great friends. But Hindley hated him, and when I saw how the master made such a fuss of him I began to hate him too. Hindley and I teased and tormented Heathcliff whenever we could, and Mrs. Earnshaw never spoke up for him, even when she knew that we were in the wrong.

Heathcliff was a silent, patient child, perhaps hardened to bad treatment[19] by everything he’d suffered already in his life. He put up with Hindley’s punches without complaining, and my pinches simply made him draw in his breath in silence. When Mr. Earnshaw discovered what was happening to Heathcliff, he was furious, and he soon became much more fond of him than he was of his own children. So, from the very beginning, Heathcliff caused bad feelings in the family.

By the time Mrs. Earnshaw died, less than two years later, Master Hindley had learned to see his father as an enemy. He believed that Heathcliff had stolen his place in the family, and grew very bitter about the way his life had changed.

A few years after Mrs. Earnshaw died, my master became very ill. He spent most of his time in a chair by the fireplace, growing more and more irritable. He was especially angry with Hindley for treating Heathcliff so badly and in the end he decided to send his son away to college.

Once Hindley was out of the way, I thought at last we would have some peace, but Miss Cathy was much too wild to settle down quietly. She was always getting into mischief – singing and laughing and larking around, and teasing anyone who wouldn’t join in her games. She drove us all to distraction[20], but she had the sweetest smile and so no one could stay angry with her for long.

One thing was certain – young Cathy was much too fond of Heathcliff. She hated being apart from him, and Heathcliff felt just the same about her. She loved giving orders, and Heathcliff would do anything she wanted. It made her father furious, to see how she ruled over the boy.

One evening, when Cathy was quieter than usual, she came and sat on the floor beside her father and leaned her head against his knee. Heathcliff lay with his head in Cathy’s lap, while Mr. Earnshaw stroked her hair.

«Why can’t you always be a good girl, Cathy?» he murmured.

«And why can’t you always be a good man, father?» she laughed. Mr. Earnshaw looked sad to hear this response, and when Cathy saw that she had upset him, she gave her father a kiss and said she would sing him to sleep. She began to sing very quietly, until his head dropped down onto his chest and he fell into a sound sleep. I was glad to see the old man sleeping so well. But when it was time to go to bed, Cathy put her arms around his neck to say goodnight, and screamed out in fright, «Oh, he’s dead, Heathcliff! He’s dead!»

Then they both started crying pitifully, and I joined in too.

Later that evening, I heard Cathy and Heathcliff talking together. They were picturing their father happy in heaven, far away from his troubles on earth. I cried as I listened to them, because I was afraid of what might happen next. And I wished that we could all be saved from the troubles that lay ahead.

Hindley Earnshaw came back to Wuthering Heights for the funeral, and much to our surprise he brought a wife with him. Her name was Frances and she was very young and lively, with eyes that sparkled as brightly as diamonds. I did notice that climbing the stairs made her breathe very fast, and she had a troublesome cough, but I had no idea then what those signs could mean.

Hindley soon made sure that we knew who was master. He ordered Joseph and me to stay in the kitchen and leave the rest of the house to him and his wife. Cathy was allowed to continue her lessons, but Heathcliff had to work on the farm. He ate all his meals with the servants and slept in an attic room in the roof.

At first, Heathcliff put up with this treatment patiently, because he still saw Cathy every day. She taught him everything she learned and spent all her spare time playing with him. Hindley didn’t care what Cathy and Heathcliff did together so long as they kept out of his way, and they soon became completely wild. Their greatest treat was to run off up to the moors, and stay out there by themselves all day. It frightened me to see the two of them growing up like untamed animals – I was afraid of how things might end.

One rainy Sunday evening, Cathy and Heathcliff were in trouble for making too much noise, so Hindley sent them out of the house. But when I called them in for supper they were nowhere to be seen. I spent the rest of the evening searching for them, but at nine o’clock Hindley bolted all the doors, and swore he wouldn’t let them in that night. Everyone went to bed, but I was much too worried to sleep so I sat by my bedroom window listening for noises. Eventually, I heard footsteps coming up the lane and saw the light of a lantern glimmering through the gate. I threw a shawl over my head and ran out to find them.

I expected to see the two of them by the gate, but there was only Heathcliff, soaked to the skin[21].

«Where’s Miss Cathy?» I called out in fright.

«At Thrushcross Grange,» he replied, «and I should be there too, but they didn’t have the manners to ask me to stay.»

«Well, you’ll be in trouble when the master hears about this,» I said crossly. «But why did you go so far away?»

«Just let me get out of my wet clothes, Nelly, and I’ll tell you all about it.»

I warned Heathcliff to be quiet, to avoid waking Hindley, and while he undressed, he told me the whole story…

«Cathy and I were running over the moors together, when we saw the lights on in the Grange, and decided to see how Edgar and Isabella Linton spent their evenings. Do you think they are forced to stand shivering outside like us, Nelly, while their parents roast themselves beside the fire[22]? So, we raced all the way from the Heights to Thrushcross Park without stopping once, and Cathy lost her shoes. Then we crept through a broken hedge and groped our way up a path, and stood on a flowerpot just under a low window.

«The living room curtains were still open so we could see right inside, and it was just like a palace – all crimson and gold. Edgar and Isabella had the room to themselves, and can you guess what they were doing? Isabella was lying screaming on the floor, shrieking as if witches were pushing needles into her skin, and Edgar was standing by the fire, weeping like a baby! And what do you think all the fuss was about? In the middle of the table was a little dog, shaking its paw and yelping – and nearly pulled in two by the spoiled brats! We laughed out loud at the idiots! What sort of fun do you think that was to quarrel over a stupid puppy dog? And when would you catch me arguing with Cathy or taking anything she wanted?»

«Anyway, we laughed so much that Cathy fell off the flowerpot. The Lintons heard the noise and raced to the door, and then you should have heard them howl! ‘Oh, mama, mama! Oh, papa! Oh, mama come here! They really did cry out like that! We both made horrible noises to frighten them some more, but then we decided we had better run away.