Chapter 4 - Barbara's Journal

While leading the way upstairs, she recommended that I should hide the candle, and not make a noise, as the master would not like if I stayed in that particular room that I would be staying for the night. I asked the reason. She did not know, she answered.

Too tired to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed. The whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press, and a large oak case. Inside the case was a singular sort of old-fashioned couch. I slid back the panel of the oak case, got in with my light, pulled them together again, and settled myself on the dusty couch.

The ledge, where I placed my candle, reflected on some old pile of books in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the print of its covers. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small—Barbara Collins, here and there varied to Barbara Hargreaves, and then again to Barbara Eaton.

In rapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued spelling over Barbara Collins—Hargreaves—Eaton, till my eyes closed. But they had not rested five minutes when a glare of white blurry objects started from the dark, as vivid as spectres—the air swarmed with Catherines. It was clearly an illusion – or a nightmare – from my extreme weariness, so I roused myself to get rid of the name "floating" around me. However, I discovered my candle-wick licking on one of the antique volumes, and starting to fill the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin. I quickly snuffed it off.

After that, I couldn't fall asleep. I spread my legs and stretched out my sore arms, yawning when I caught I glimpse of a thick volume with a similar hand-written inscription as the ones that haunted me. It was a Testament, and smelling dreadfully musty: a page bore the inscription 'Barbara Collins, her book,' and a date from some quarter of a century back. I shut it, and took up another and another, till I had examined all. This was Barbara's library, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been used frequently. On one page, I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Javier—rudely, yet powerfully sketched. I commenced to read a paragraph beneath the caricature.

*****

'An awful Sunday,' commenced the paragraph beneath. 'I wish my father were back again. Brother H. is a detestable substitute—his conduct to Hargreaves is inhumane. H. and I are going to rebel against him—we took our initiatory step this evening.

Another one read: 'All day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so Javier needs to set up a congregation in the garret; and, while Hindley (I am assuming this respectful subject to be Brother H.) and his wife basked downstairs before a comfortable fire, Heathcliff and myself were commanded to take our prayer-books. The congregation had us sat in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering as it is Summer here, and hoping that Javier would shiver too, so that he might make it short for his own sake. A vain idea! The service lasted precisely three hours! On Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; but now, as Hindley sees us descending from the service of three hours, a mere titter is sufficient to send us into detention.

'What? Done already?' Questioned our tyrant, H. "You forget you have a master here," says the tyrant. "I'll demolish the first who puts me out of temper! I insist on perfect attitude and silence."

Hargreaves and I made ourselves back to our room, and cozied ourselves snugly in the arch of the dresser, when in comes Javier from an errand in the stables. I was just finishing tying a lace on my pinafores. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaked some lecture. He gave us a dingy volume of the Testament. In my turn, I took it up and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book. Hargreaves kicked his to the same place. Then there was a scene!

'Master Hindley!' shouted our chaplain. 'Master, be quick! Miss Barbara's riven the back off 'The Helmet of Salvation,' and Hargreaves laid his fit into the first part of 'The Broad Way to Destruction!' You shan't let them go on this gait. Ech! the old man would have beaten them properly—but he's gone!'

Hindley hurried up from his paradise downstairs, and seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen.

*****

I suppose the pair fulfilled their project, for the next sentence took up another subject:

*****

'How little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!' she wrote. 'My head aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still I can't give over. Poor Hargreaves! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won't let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more. And, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place—'

*****

I began to nod drowsily over the dim page: my eye wandered from manuscript to print. What else could it be that made me pass such a terrible night? I don't remember another that I can at all compare with it since I was capable of suffering.

I fell asleep briefly, though I woke up the second time. This time, I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow. I heard, also, the fir bough tapping on the window pane, but it annoyed me so much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavored to silence it.

'I must stop it, nevertheless!' I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed:

'Let me in—let me in!'

'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself.

'Barbara Eaton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Eaton? I had read Collins twenty times for Eaton)

'I've come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I stole the look of a child's face looking through the window.

Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes. Still it wailed 'Let me in!' and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear.

'How can I!' I said at length. 'Let me go, if you want me to let you in!' The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly closed the windows, and boxed my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer.

I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the cry moaning on!

'Begone!' I shouted. 'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.'

'It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years. I've been away for twenty years!'

Thereafter began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books that I have piled in front of the window moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footsteps approached my chamber door. Somebody pushed it open, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself:

'Is any one here?'

I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew Hargreaves' accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet. With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.

Hargreaves stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

'It is only your guest, sir,' I called out, desirous to spare him the humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. 'I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

'Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lebeau! I wish you were at the—' commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady. 'And who showed you up into this room?' he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions. 'Who was it? I've a good mind to turn them out of the house this moment?'

'It was your servant Ema,' I replied, flinging myself on to the floor, and rapidly resuming my outfit. 'I should not care if you did, Mr. Hargreaves; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted, at my expense. Well, it is—swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason in shutting it up, I assure you!'

'What do you mean?' asked Hargreves, 'and what are you doing? Lie down and finish out the night, since you are here; but, for heaven's sake! don't repeat that horrid noise: nothing could excuse it, unless you were having your throat cut!'

'If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have strangled me!' I returned. 'I'm not going to endure the specter of your 'hospitable' ancestors again. Was not that minx, Barbara Collins, or Eaton, or however she was called—she must have been a wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I've no doubt!'

Scarcely were these words uttered when I forgot about the association of Hargreaves with Barbara's name in the book, which had completely slipped from my memory, till then. I blushed at my inconsideration: but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, I hastened to add:

'The truth is, sir, I passed the first part of the night in—' Here I stopped afresh—I was about to say 'reading those old volumes,' then it would have revealed my knowledge of their private contents; so, correcting myself, I went on 'in spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge. A monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like counting, or—'

'What can you mean by talking in this way to me!' thundered Hargreaves with savage vehemence. 'How—how dare you, under my roof?—God! he's mad to speak so!' And he struck his forehead with rage.

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams. Hargreaves gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke; finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of violent emotion. Not liking to show him that I had heard the conflict, I continued to prepare my toilette rather noisily, looked at my watch, and reminisced on the length of the night:

'Not three o'clock yet! I am sure it had been six. Time stagnates here: we must surely have retired to rest at eight!'

'Always at nine in winter, and rise at four,' said my host, suppressing a groan: and, as I fancied, by the motion of his arm's shadow, dashing a tear from his eyes. 'Mr. Lebeau,' he added, 'you may go into my room: you'll only be in the way, coming downstairs so early: and your childish outcry has sent sleep to the devil for me.'

'And for me, too,' I replied. 'I'll walk in the yard till daylight, and then I'll be off; and you need not dread a repetition of my intrusion. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.'

'Delightful company!' muttered Hargreaves. 'Take the candle, and go where you please. I shall join you directly. Keep out of the yard, though, the dogs are unchained; and the house—and – nay, you can only ramble about the steps and passages. But, away with you! I'll come in two minutes!'

I obeyed, and quit the chamber. But instead of quitting the narrow hallway, I stood still in front of the door as if I was eavesdropping. I heard my landlord got on to the bed, and wrenched open the window, bursting, as he pulled at it, into uncontrollable tears.

'Come in! come in!' he sobbed. 'Barbara, do come. Oh, do—once more! Oh! my heart's darling! Hear me this time, Barbara, at last!'

The snow on the other end whirled wildly through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the light.

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving. I drew off, half angry to have listened at all. I descended cautiously to the lower regions, and landed in the back-kitchen, where a gleam of fire enabled me to rekindle my candle. Nothing was stirring except a brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, and saluted me with a querulous mew.

Outside, I spotted two benches, shaped in sections of a circle, nearly enclosed the hearth; on one of these I stretched myself. I was nodding, and then Javier came shuffling down a wooden ladder that vanished in the roof, which lead into his garret, I suppose. He cast a sinister look at the little flame I was holding, and plopped down on the bench beside me to stuff a three-inch pipe with tobacco. He silently applied the tube to his lips, folded his arms, and puffed away. I let him enjoy his smoke unannoyed; and after sucking out his last breath, and heaving a profound sigh, he got up, and departed as solemnly as he came.

A more elastic footstep entered next; and now I opened my mouth for a 'Good morning,' but closed it again, since it was the young lad, Hareton Collins, who appeared with a grim look that seemed to fend off any signs of wanting to be approached. He was exchanging curses against every object he touched, while he rummaged a corner for a spade or shovel to dig through the hearth. He glanced over the back of the bench, and seemed to ignore my presence casually. I decided to leave the uncomfortable company and entered another quarter of the house.

Upon entering the house, I saw the females were already astir. Ema urging flakes of flame up the chimney, and Mrs. Hargreaves, reading a book by the aid of the blaze. I was surprised to see Hargreaves there also. He stood by the fire, his back towards me, just finishing a stormy scene with poor Ema, interrupting her labour.

'And you, you worthless—' he broke out as I entered, turning to his daughter-in-law.

'There you are, at your idle tricks again! The rest of them do to earn their bread—you live on my charity! Put your trash away, and find something to do. You shall pay me for being in my sight—do you hear, damnable jade?'

'I'll put my trash away, because you can make me if I refuse,' answered the young lady, closing her book, and throwing it on a chair. 'But I'll not do anything!'

Hargreaves lifted his hand, and the speaker sprang to a safer distance, obviously having instinct from experience. I stepped forward briskly, pretending to warm up myself in front of the chimney, and pretending to be innocent of any knowledge of the interrupted dispute. Hargreaves placed his fists, out of temptation, in his pockets; Mrs. Hargreaves curled her lip, and walked to a seat far off, where she kept her word by being a statue during the remainder of my stay. That was not long. I declined joining their breakfast, and, at the first gleam of dawn, took an opportunity to leave for home, as the skies were now clear, and still, and cold as impalpable ice.

The whole hill back was one billowy, white ocean; many pits, at least, were filled to a level of my ankles. I finally reached the Arlington park, which was two miles from the House; I believe I managed to make it four, by losing myself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in snow, which slowed the whole traverse.

Upon arrival to the Arlington House, my maidservant, Dean, rushed to welcome me; exclaiming, tumultuously, that they had completely given me up: everybody in the House thought that I perished last night; and they were wondering how they must set about the search for my remains. I bid them be quiet now that they saw me returned, and I dismissed myself and went upstairs to my room. After putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro thirty or forty minutes, to restore the natural heat of my body, I went to my study. Ere, the day ended as I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening enjoying the cheerful fire and smoking coffee which the servant had prepared for my refreshment.