The Falling, the Fallen, and the Felled:

The story of Hindley Earnshaw

Father had always said that I thought myself to be God, and lorded over everyone else.  In my youthful arrogance I took that as a compliment.  None of the neighborhood children were worth my while anyways.  I usually played with Nelly those days, partially because she was always willing, and partially out of pity, for I suspect that she has always been fond of me.  Catherine would join us, when I allowed, but she seemed so delicate and pale that I always feared that she would become hurt.  A pretty picture we made, Nelly and I with our uprooted pebbles and Catherine, unable to play, hovering over us like an angel.

His coming into my life was the beginning of the end.  As first I thought him a dog, so dark was the skin and mangy hair that poked out between the folds of Father's greatcoat.  Then he looked up, and the two burning coals scared me, not so much that they were filled with contempt, but that his dark eyes were so similar to my own.  I dimly heard father say, "…It came from the Devil." (31)

Catherine became besotted with him, made obvious by the curled ends of her cherub mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in laughter like never before.  Although she snubbed him magnificently for the first few days, her young heart could not remain immune to his wicked wiles.  Soon after, I rarely saw her out of his company, as they were always frolicking outside, in their own little world.  Oh, I saw her falling, if no one else did!  No one knew the extremes to which I reached trying to save her, except Nelly, who often aided in attempt to please me.  It was to no avail.  Father discovered my well-intended cruelty to Heathcliff, and sent me away, away from home, away from family, and away from the inevitable: Catherine's plummet from her heavenly pedestal.

I did not much like school, for the masters were harsh and the boys loud and raucous.  At age sixteen I finally resolved to escape from the monotonous drone of school like, however, nary a week passed before I receive news of my father's tragic demise.  During that week I had met a girl…well, a lady of the evening.  She claimed eternal affection for me, and, despite my commitments to dear Catherine, still resolved to follow me wherever I go.  On my part, I was charmed by her youth and clear, sparkling eyes, and married her, even as I pictured the twinkle from a quite different pair of eyes.

Before entering the Heights, however, I did warn Frances, my bride, to be kind to Catherine, whatever prejudices she might hold.  I should not have bothered.  Upon crossing the threshold, the very first act France performed was to screech and fling herself on her new sister-in-law, scaring the life out of dear Catherine and rousing the fiend from his sleep.  He had clearly benefited from my absence, and seemed to even hold a spark of intelligence deep in the abyss of his eyes, although not enough to keep civil to Frances's chatter.  I sent him out immediately; from then on, he was to act subservient to his superiors.

Catherine and Heathcliff had deepened their relationship during the past two years, much to my displeasure.  Yet even I could see that she buried herself too deeply for salvation.  Only the pious scruples of Joseph sent me near them to mete out punishment, and still I could barely resist myself from grimacing as I watched them make eyes at each other.  Thus, I avoided them as much as possible and instead began to feel fondness towards Frances, an ally in this hopeless struggle.

Then something impossible occurred.  Even now I am still unclear on the details of that fateful night, but the result was that Catherine, my Catherine, was accepted into the Grange!  In my eyes, this became a mixed blessing, as although I could not be with her, neither could my foe.

My Catherine had returned a lady, arisen from her degradation higher that ever before.  Frances and I praised and pampered her as she wished, giving all that her heart desired, yet we could not grant her what I now know she wished for most, the love of that fiend.  Even as she chattered with Linton her pretty eyes remained lonely.  I thought that then as a sign of improvement into society, oh, how wrong I was!

Frances passed out of my life as quickly as she entered.  Kenneth, the doctor, gave her precious few weeks to live, and I, on my part, did not believe a word of it until her fragile form fell limply into my arms.  Even in death she was beautiful, I had thought, as I closed her glassy eyes, now dulled.  She left a child, but I could not bear to look at it, and left it with Nelly, who seemed overjoyed at the prospect of raising a child of mine.  My world seemed shattered: Catherine slipping out of my grasp, Frances dead, and the accursed Devil still residing under my roof.  I took to drinking, to douse the pain.

Hareton, too, slipped from my hold…my own son!  The events of that afternoon sway blearily in my mind, the carving knife, Nelly's awkward attempts to pacify me, all up to the point when I held Hareton over the banister.  A sudden noise from below startled me, and, as a dropped my son, I became aware of the very first time of the shape of Hareton's eyes, his nose, the pout of his mouth…they were all Catherine's.  At that moment my world stopped, and as I leaned over the railing, a pair of eyes, my eyes, stared back at me.  I saw myself poised at the bottom, prepared to catch Catherine as she fell.  Then reality shook my mind into shock, as I watched Catherine, no, Hareton, land into Heathcliff's clutched hands.

After that my world shifted blurredly, so only vaguely do I remember Catherine's sickness, and Heathcliff's departure, little pleasure to me, when I now can scarcely tell night from day, dark from light.  Catherine announced her marriage yesterday, and I am invited, although not expected.  Nelly shall depart with her, much to her displeasure, but I cannot again live with a woman whom I do not love.  She told me that in ridding the Heights of all decent people, I set my own ruin, and I suppose that she is right.  Father spoke falsely; I am no God.  I have fallen, and shall wait forevermore to catch Catherine at the bottom.  Together we shall face Heathcliff when he returns, for he will return.  The Devil always collects his dues.