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 25 All these things happened last winter,
Sir,
Said Mrs Nelly Dean,
Hardly more than a year ago.
Last winter I didn't think at another 12 months end I should be amusing a stranger to the family with relating them.
Yet who knows Mr Lockwood how long you'll be a stranger.
You're too young to rest always contented living by yourself and I someway fancy no one could see Catherine Linton and not love her.
You smile but why do you look so lively and interested when I talk about her then and why have you asked me to hang her picture over your fireplace?
Stop my good friend,
I cried.
It may be very possible I should love her but why should she love me?
I doubt it too much to venture my tranquility by running into temptation and then my home is not here.
I'm of the busy world and to its arms I must return.
Now go on,
Was Catherine obedient to her father's commands?
She was,
Continued Nelly.
Her affection for him was still the chief sentiment in her heart and he spoke without anger.
He spoke in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils and foes when his remembered words would be the only aid that he could bequeath to guide her.
He said to me a few days afterwards,
I wish my nephew would write Ellen or call.
Tell me sincerely what you think of him.
Is he changed for the better or is there a prospect of improvement as he grows a man?
He's very delicate sir,
I replied and scarcely likely to reach manhood but this I can say,
He does not resemble his father Heathcliff and if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him he would not be beyond her control unless she were extremely and foolishly indulgent.
However,
Mr.
Linton sir,
You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with him and see whether he would suit her.
He wants four years or more to his being of age.
At this Edgar sighed and walking to the window he looked out towards Gimmerton Kirk.
It was a misty afternoon but the February sun shone dimly and we could just distinguish the two fir trees in the yard and the sparely scattered gravestones.
I've prayed often,
He half soliloquised,
For the approach of what's coming and now I begin to shrink and fear it.
I thought the memory of the hour I came down that glen a bridegroom would be less sweet than the anticipation I was soon in a few months or possibly weeks to be carried up and laid in its lonely hollow.
Ellen,
I've been very happy with my little Cathy.
Through winter nights and summer days she was a living hope at my side,
But I've been as happy musing by myself among those stones under that old church,
Lying through the long June evenings on the green mound of her mother's grave and wishing,
Yearning for the time when I might lie beneath it.
What can I do for Cathy?
How must I quit her?
I'd not care one moment for Linton being Heathcliff's son nor for his taking her from me if he could console her for my loss.
I'd not care that Heathcliff gained his ends and triumphed in robbing me of my last blessing,
But should Linton be unworthy,
Only a feeble tool to his father,
I cannot abandon her to him.
And hard though it might be to crush her buoyant spirit,
I must persevere in making her sad while I live and leaving her solitary when I die.
Darling,
I'd rather resign her to God and lay her in the earth before me.
Resign her to God as it is,
Sir,
I answered,
And if we should lose you,
Which may he forbid under his providence,
I'll stand her friend and counsel to the last.
Miss Catherine's a good girl and I don't fear she'll go willfully wrong,
And people who do their duty are always finely rewarded.
Spring advanced,
Yet my master gathered no real strength,
Though he resumed his walks in the grounds with his daughter.
To her inexperienced notions,
This itself was a sign of convalescence,
And then his cheek was often flushed and his eyes were bright,
So she felt sure of his recovering.
On her 17th birthday,
He did not visit the churchyard.
It was raining and I observed,
You'll surely not go out tonight,
Sir?
He answered,
No,
I'll defer it this year a little longer.
He wrote again to Linton,
Expressing his great desire to see him,
And had the invalid been presentable,
I've no doubt his father would have permitted him to come.
As it was being instructed,
He returned an answer,
Intimating that Mr.
Heathcliff objected to his calling at the grange,
But his uncle's kind remembrance delighted him,
And he hoped to meet him sometimes in his rambles,
And personally to petition that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly divided.
That part of his letter was simple and probably his own.
Heathcliff knew he could plead eloquently for Catherine's company then.
I do not ask,
Said young Linton,
That she may visit here,
But am I never to see her because my father forbids me to go to her home and you forbid me to come to mine?
Now then,
Ride with her towards the heights and let us exchange a few words in your presence.
We have done nothing to the separation and you're not angry with me.
You have no reason to dislike me,
You yourself allow.
Dear uncle,
Send me a kind note tomorrow and leave to join you anywhere you please except at Thrushcross Grange.
I believe an interview would convince you my father's character is not mine.
He affirms I'm more your nephew than his son,
And though I have faults which render me unworthy of Catherine,
She has excused them,
And for her sake you should also.
You'll inquire after my health,
It's better,
But while I remain cut off from all hope and doomed to solitude,
Or the society of those who never did and never will like me,
How can I be cheerful and well?
Edgar Linton,
Though he felt for the boy,
Could not consent to grant his request because he could not accompany Catherine.
He said in summer perhaps they might meet.
Meantime,
He wished him to continue writing at intervals and engaged to give him what advice and comfort he was able by letter,
Being well aware of his heart position in his family.
Linton complied,
And had he been unrestrained,
He would probably have spoiled all by filling his epistles with complaints and lamentations,
But his father kept a sharp watch over him,
And of course insisted on every line that my master sent being shown.
So instead of penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses,
The themes constantly utmost in his thoughts,
He harped on the cruel obligation of being held asunder from his friend and love,
And gently intimated that Mr Linton must allow an interview soon,
Or he should fear he was purposely deceiving him with empty promises.
Cathy was a powerful ally at home,
And between them at length they persuaded my master to acquiesce in their having a ride or walk together about once a week,
Under my guardianship,
And on the moors nearest the Grange,
For June found him still declining.
Though he had set aside yearly a portion of his income for my young lady's fortune,
He had a natural desire she might retain,
Or at least return in short time too,
The house of her ancestors,
And he considered her only prospect of doing that was by union with his heir.
He had no idea the latter was failing almost as fast as himself,
Nor had anyone,
I believe.
No doctor visited the Heights,
And no one saw Master Heathcliff to make report of his condition amongst us.
I,
For my part,
Began to fancy my forebodings were false,
And that he might actually be rallying when he mentioned riding and walking on the moors,
And seemed so earnest in pursuing his object.
I could not picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and wickedly as I afterwards learned Heathcliff had treated him,
To compel this apparent eagerness.
His efforts redoubling,
The more imminently his avaricious and unfeeling plans were threatened with defeat by death.
