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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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375 skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen. There was unobstructed admittance on that side also, and, at the door, sat my old friend Nelly Dean, sewing and singing a song, which was often interrupted from within by harsh words of scorn and intolerance, uttered in far from musical accents. “Aw’d rayther, by th’ haulf, hev ’em swearing i’ my lugs frough morn tuh neeght, nur hearken yah, hahsiver!” said the tenant of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly’s. “It’s a blazing shaime, ut Aw cannut oppen t’ Blessed Book, bud yah set up them glories tuh Sattan, un all t’ flaysome wickednesses ut iver wer born intuh t’ warld! Oh! yah’re a raight nowt; un shoo’s another; un that poor lad ’ull be lost, atween ye. Poor lad!” he added, with a groan; “he’s witched, Aw’m sartin on’t! O Lord, judge ’em, fur they’s norther law nur justice amang wer rullers!” “No! or we should be sitting in flaming fagots, I suppose,” retorted the singer. “But wisht, old man, and read your Bible like a Christian, and never mind me. This is ‘Fairy Annie’s Wedding’-- a bonny tune--it goes to a dance.” Mrs. Dean was about to recommence, when I advanced; and recognising me directly, she jumped to her feet, crying: “Why, bless you, Mr. Lockwood! How could you think of returning in this way? All’s shut up at Thrushcross Grange. You should have given us notice!” “I’ve arranged to be accommodated there, for as long as I shall stay,” I answered. “I depart again tomorrow. And how are you transplanted here, Mrs. Dean? tell me that.” “Zillah left, and Mr. Heathcliff wished me to come, soon after you went to London, and stay till you returned. But, step in, pray! Have you walked from Gimmerton this evening?” |
