Tackling 'Wuthering Heights' -- Chapter 6

It's been a bit of a while, and I've been multi-tasking. Reading some chapters, recapping them, and working on my own story, as well as convincing my sister to paint my toenails red in between. It's a doozy! But anyway, I got them done.

So, without further ado, Chapter 6 of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights...

Hindley, Cathy's brother, came back to Wuthering Heights for the funeral. And he brought his new little wife with him. He's feeling really high and mighty now because the estate now technically belongs to him, thereby making him the new "master."

Frances -- Hindley's wife, if you recall from Cathy's diary entry -- became the talk of the neighbors. Apparently, funerals really freak her out (my mom would probably concur, since she hates watching horror movies and hates thinking about anything that's dead). Frances confided in Mrs. Dean, aka "Nelly" (a new nickname that we learn in this chapter), that she was afraid of dying because of her coughing fits. Maybe Frances has tuberculosis? It's either that, or she's a hypochondriac who just can't help but fret over every little health issue. Who knows? Nelly proably thought the case was the latter.

Turning our attention back to Hindley...

He's out of shape. And he's meaner. Hindley bossed the servants around ("My daddy's not here anymore, so that makes me the new master, and you have to follow me even though I'm being a douchebag bully to you, otherwise I'll throw you out and you'll have no home whatsoever! Mwahahahahaha!"). He told them to sleep in the back kitchen and leave the house for him and his wife. Hindley wanted to redecorate, but Frances liked things the way they already were, so he dropped all plans of fixing the place up. If Martha Stewart had already been born, then I bet Frances would have jumped at the chance.

Frances loved doting on Cathy -- she treated her like a little doll. But then this would get old and Frances would get "peevish," while Hindley grew "tyrannical." The lovebirds really do deserve each other, don't they?

Anyway.

Hindley forced Heathcliff into the servants' quarters, denied him of getting educated, and insisted that Heathcliff work in the fields like a common farm hand. Heathcliff, meanwhile, handled his situation well because Cathy would teach him what she learned and would would spend time with him in the fields. Whenever they got into trouble with Hindley, they would run away into the moors together and spend the entire day there, only to return very late. It was as if being together was the cure for their misfortunes.

It sounds very sweet at first. Until something happens that changes everything, turning Heathcliff's world inside out and upside down, as he then tells Nelly what happened...

One evening Cathy and Heathcliff were out in the moors when they decided to spy on Edgar Linton and his sister, Isabella (mmhmmm... Is this where SMeyer subconsciously got the name for her protagonist?). It was really all just for the "lulz." Just for laughs. And boy, was this a pathetic sight!

Edgar and Isabella had been fighting over a dog, over who deserved to cuddle with it. These kids were like, pre-teens (age 11 or 12), mind you. They'd nearly ripped the poor, yelping puppy into two. Savage!

One moment they were sniveling, and the next, you could have sworn their ears pointed up like this fellow, masquerading as an overly alert bunny rabbit:

They heard Cathy's and Heathcliff's snickering laughter. The two pranksters then proceeded to make "frightful noises to terrify them still more."

Edgar and Isabella alerted the servants. As Cathy and Heathcliff tried to run away, Cathy's foot got caught in the guard dog's mouth. She told Heathcliff to run ahead without her. (The guard dog's name, by the way, was  Skulker... that sounds scary, but way cooler than just calling it "Rex" or something ghastly cliched as "Spot." I wonder if Emily had a dog named Skulker.)

Then a servant came out, carried Cathy inside, and told Mr. and Mrs. Linton what all the hubbub was about. The Lintons recognized Cathy as servants tended to the girl's bleeding foot and ankle. They were shocked to find out that her BFF was an unruly-looking gypsy boy. LIKE, OMG, GASP!

Heathcliff, being the sweet little romantic rascal that he was as a pre-teen, refused to leave Thrushcross Grange without Cathy by his side. But they sent him off on his own into the cold, windy night with nothing but a lantern to guide his way. The moors probably look extra creepy at night.

Poor Heathcliff (I dare you to count off how many times I say "Poor Heathcliff" throughout my other chapter recaps)... I really do feel sorry for him. I want to hug him and tell him to kick to those mean people in the shins the next time he sees them.

Meanwhile, the Lintons were all over Catherine. In Heathcliff's words:

"They dried and combed her beautiful hair, and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be, dividing her food between the little dog and Skulker, whose nose she pinched as she ate; and kindling a spark of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons -- a dim reflection of her own enchanting face."

Maybe the Lintons felt guilty that their stupid Skulker (which I imagine to be a rowdy pitbull or rottweiler) bit little Cathy's foot and might possibly give her rabies or some awful canine disease. Perhaps Cathy might never walk again! Then she can no longer go outside and explore the moors with Heathcliff, leaving the poor guy all alone with no one decent to talk to! OMG! And then she'll fall for Edgar Linton instead, breaking Heathcliff's already overly-abused and battered heart!

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Okay. I managed to get a grip. But it's clear that Heathcliff has a bad feeling about how things are going down, and you can sense the depth of his bitterness:

"I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she is so immeasurably superior to them -- to everybody on earth, is she not, Nelly?"

From then on, the Lintons and Hindley and his trophy wife Frances tried to keep Cathy and Heathcliff apart.

I'll say it again: Poor Heathcliff!

TO CHAPTER 7... AND AWAY!