32 Wuthering Heights Read By Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

Emily Bronte was born in Yorkshire in 1818 and along with her brother and sisters Anne and Charlotte,

Wrote from childhood onwards.

Wuthering Heights is the story she is best remembered for.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 31 Continued As his agitation precluded further speech,

Harton advanced hastily to the entrance where I made for him to pass.

But ere he had crossed the door stones,

Mr Heathcliff,

Coming up the causeway,

Encountered him and,

Laying hold of his shoulder,

Asked,

What's to do now,

Lad?

Knout,

Knout,

Said Harton,

And he broke away to enjoy his grief and anger in solitude.

Heathcliff gazed after him and sighed.

It will be odd if I thwart myself,

He muttered,

Unconscious that I was behind him.

But when I look for his father in his face,

I find her every day more.

How the devil is he so like?

I can hardly bear to see him.

Heathcliff bent his eyes to the ground and walked moodily in.

There was a restless,

Anxious expression in his countenance I had never remarked there before,

And he looked sparer in person.

Little Cathy,

His daughter-in-law,

On perceiving him through the window,

Immediately escaped to the kitchen,

So that I remained alone.

I'm glad to see you out of doors again,

Mr Lockwood,

Replied Heathcliff to my greeting.

From selfish motives partly,

I don't think I could readily supply your loss in this desolation.

I've often wondered what brought you here.

An idle whim,

I fear,

Sir,

Was my answer,

Or else an idle whim is going to spirit me away.

I shall set out for London next week,

And I must give you warning I feel no disposition to retain Thrushcross Grange beyond the twelve months I agree to rent it.

I believe I shall not live there any more.

Oh,

Indeed!

You're tired of being banished from the world,

Are you?

He said.

But if you be coming to plead off,

Paying a place you won't occupy,

Your journey is useless.

I never relent in exacting my due from anyone.

I'm coming to plead off nothing about it,

I exclaimed,

Considerably irritated.

Should you wish it,

I'll settle with you now.

I drew my notebook from my pocket.

No,

No,

He replied coolly,

You'll leave sufficient behind to cover your debts.

If you fail to return,

I'm not in such a hurry.

Sit down and take your dinner with us.

A guest that is safe from repeating his visit can generally be made welcome.

Catherine,

Bring the things in.

Where are you?

Catherine reappeared,

Bearing a tray of knives and forks.

You may get your dinner with Joseph,

Heathcliff muttered,

And remain in the kitchen till he's gone.

Catherine obeyed his directions very punctually.

Perhaps she had no temptation to transgress.

Living among clowns and misanthropists,

She probably cannot appreciate a better class of people when she meets them.

With Mr Heathcliff grim and saturnine on one hand,

And Hairton absolutely dumb on the other,

I made a somewhat cheerless meal and bid adieu early.

I would have departed by the back way to get a last glimpse of Catherine and annoy old Joseph,

But Hairton received orders to lead up my horse,

And my host himself escorted me to the door,

So I could not fulfil my wish.

How dreary life gets over in that house,

I reflected while riding down the road.

What a realisation of something more romantic than a fairy tale it would have been for Mrs Linton Heathcliff,

Had she and I struck up an attachment,

As her good nurse desired,

And migrated together into the stirring atmosphere of the town.

1802 This September I was invited to devastate the moors of a friend in the north,

And on my journey to his abode,

I unexpectedly came within 15 miles of Gimmerton.

The hostler at a roadside public house was holding a pail of water to refresh my horses,

When a cart of very green oats,

Newly reaped,

Passed by,

And he remarked,

Yon's for Gimmerton now?

They're alice three week after other folks with their harvest.

Gimmerton,

I repeated.

My residence in that locality had already grown dim and dreary.

Ah,

I know.

How far is it from this?

Haven't fourteen miles on the hill and a rough road,

He answered.

A sudden impulse seized me to visit Thrushcross Grange.

It was scarcely noon,

And I conceived I might as well pass the night under my own roof as in an inn.

Besides,

I could spare a day easily to arrange matters with my landlord,

And thus save myself the trouble of invading the neighbourhood again.

Having rested a while,

I directed my servant to inquire the way to the village,

And,

With great fatigue to our beasts,

We managed the distance in some three hours.

I left him there and proceeded down the valley alone.

The grey church looked greyer and the lonely churchyard lonelier.

I distinguished a moor sheep,

Cropping the short turf on the graves.

It was sweet warm weather,

Too warm for travelling,

But the heat did not hinder me from enjoying the delightful scenery above and below.

Had I seen it nearer August,

I'm sure it would have tempted me to waste a month amongst its solitudes.

In winter,

Nothing more than dreary,

In summer,

Nothing more divine than those glens shut in by hills and those bluff bold swells of heath.

I reached the Grange before sunset and knocked for admittance,

But the family had retreated into the back premises.

I judged by one thin blue wreath curling from the kitchen chimney,

And they did not hear.

I rode into the court.

Under the porch,

A girl of nine or ten sat knitting,

And an old woman reclined on the house steps,

Smoking a meditative pipe.

Is Mrs.

Deane within?

I demanded of the dame.

Mistress Deane?

Nay,

She answered.

She doesn't barter here.

She's up at the heights.

Are you the housekeeper,

Then?

I continued.

Aye,

I keep the house.

Well,

I missed a look with the master.

Are there any rooms to lodge me in,

I wonder?

I wish to stay all night.

It's maester,

She cried in astonishment.

But who ever knew you were coming?

You said you sent word.

There's nought nor for dry nor mensible habitable about the place.

Now there isn't.

She threw down her pipe and bustled in,

And the girl followed.

I entered too,

Soon perceiving that her report was true,

And moreover,

That I had almost upset her wits by my unwelcome apparition.

I bid her be composed.

I would go out for a walk,

And meantime,

She must try to prepare a corner of a sitting room for me to sup in,

And a bedroom to sleep in.

No sweeping and dusting,

Only good fires and dry sheets were necessary.

She seemed willing to do her best,

Though she thrust the hearth brush into the grates in mistake for the poker,

And misappropriated several other articles of her craft.

But I retired,

Confiding in her energy for a resting place against my return.

Wuthering Heights was the goal of my proposed excursion.

An afterthought brought me back,

When I had quitted the court.

All well at the Heights,

I inquired of the woman.

If for ault we know,

She answered,

Scurrying away with a pan of hot cinders.

I would have asked why Mrs.

Dean had deserted the Grange,

But it was impossible to delay her at such a time.

So I turned away,

And made my exit,

Rambling leisurely along with the glow of a sinking sun behind me,

And the mild glory of a rising moon in front.

One fading,

Another brightening,

As I quitted the park and climbed the stony by-road,

Branching off to Mr.

Heathcliff's dwelling.

Before I arrived in sight of it,

All that remained of day was a beamless amber light along the west,

But I could see every pebble on the path,

And every blade of grass by that splendid moon.

I had neither to climb the gate nor to knock.

It yielded to my hand.

That is an improvement,

I thought,

And I noticed another by the aid of my nostrils,

A fragrance of stalks and wallflowers wafted on the air from amongst the holy fruit trees.

Both doors and lattices were open,

And yet,

As is usually the case in a coal district,

A fine red fire illuminated the chimney.

The comfort which the eye derives from it renders the extra heat endurable,

But the house of Wuthering Heights is so large that the inmates have plenty of space for withdrawing out of its influence,

And accordingly,

What inmates there were had stationed themselves not far from one of the windows.

I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered,

And I looked and listened in consequence,

Being moved thereto by a mingled sense of curiosity and envy that grew as I lingered.

"'Contrary,

' said a voice as sweet as a silver bell,

"'that for the third time,

You dunce,

"'I'm not going to tell you again.

"'Recollect,

Or I'll pull your hair.

' "'Contrary,

Then,

' answered another in deep but softened tones,

"'and now kiss me for minding so well.

"'No,

Read it over first correctly,

"'without a single mistake.

' "'The male speaker began to read.

"'He was a young man,

"'respectably dressed and seated at a table,

"'having a book before him.

"'His handsome features glowed with pleasure,

"'and his eyes kept him patiently wandering from the page "'to a small white hand over his shoulder,

"'which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek "'whenever its owner detected such signs of inattention.

"'Its owner stood behind him,

"'her light shining ringlets blending at intervals "'with his brown locks "'as she bent to superintend his studies.

"'And her face!

"'It was lucky he could not see her face,

"'or he would never have been so steady.

"'I could,

And I bit my lip in spite "'at having thrown away the chance I might have had "'of doing something besides staring at his smiting beauty.

"'The task was done,

"'not free from further blunders,

"'but the pupil claimed a reward "'and received at least five kisses,

"'which,

However,

He generously returned.

"'Then they came to the door,

"'and from their conversation I judged "'they were about to issue out "'and have a walk on the moors.

"'I supposed I should be condemned "'in Hairton Earnshaw's heart,

"'if not by his mouth,

"'to the lowest pit in the infernal regions,

"'if I showed my unfortunate person "'in his neighbourhood there.

"'And feeling very mean and malignant,

"'I skulked round to seek refuge in the kitchen.

"'There was unobstructed admittance on that side also,

"'and at the door sat my old friend Nellie Dean,

"'sewing and singing a song.

"'I was a young girl at the time,