Wuthering Heights

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A level 5 Oxford Bookworms Library graded reader. Retold for Learners of English by Clare West.

The wind is strong on the Yorkshire moors. There are few trees, and fewer houses, to block its path. There is one house, however, that does not hide from the wind. It stands out from the hill and challenges the wind to do its worst. The house is called Wuthering Heights.

When Mr Earnshaw brings a strange, small, dark child back home to Wuthering heights, it seems he has opened his doors to trouble. He has invited in something that, like the wind, is safer kept out of the house.

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Эмили Бронте

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WUTHERING HEIGHTS

Love is not always a happy experience. Nor do people who love each other always treat each other gently. We are all familiar with stories where two lovers are kept apart by outside forces – sometimes by their families, sometimes by the customs of their society.

In Wuthering Heights the main force that keeps the lovers apart is themselves. The characters in this story, just like real people, have weaknesses – and their weaknesses lead them into unhappiness. They are proud and selfish; they often have mixed feelings and are unable to make up their minds. For these reasons love often fails, but rarely as passionately and dramatically as in this story.

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This simplified edition © Oxford University Press 2008

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First published in Oxford Bookworms 1992

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ISBN 978 0 19 479234 9

A complete recording of this Bookworms edition of Wuthering Heights is available on audio CD ISBN 978 0 19 479209 7

Typeset by Wyvern Typesetting Ltd, Bristol

Illustrated by: Jeff Spokes/Three in a Box

Word count (main text): 23,180 words

For more information on the Oxford Bookworms Library, visit www.oup.com/bookwormswww.oup.com/bookwormse-Book ISBN 978 0 19 478639 3

e-Book first published 2012

PEOPLE IN THIS STORY

MR LOCKWOOD’S STORY, 1801 TO 1802

At Thrushcross Grange

Mr Lockwood, the narrator

Ellen Dean, the housekeeper

At Wuthering Heights

Mr Heathcliff, the landlord of Thrushcross Grange

Mrs Cathy Heathcliff, a widow and Mr Heathcliff’s daughter-in-law

Hareton Earnshaw

Joseph, a servant

Zillah, a housekeeper

ELLEN DEAN’S STORY, 1770 TO 1802

Mr Earnshaw

Hindley Earnshaw, his son

Catherine Earnshaw, his daughter

Heathcliff, a gipsy boy

Frances, Hindley’s wife

Mr and Mrs Linton

Edgar Linton, their son

Isabella Linton, their daughter

Hareton, Hindley Earnshaw’s son

Cathy, Edgar Linton’s daughter

Linton, Heathcliff’s son

Joseph, a servant

Ellen Dean, a servant

Zillah, a housekeeper

I HAVE JUST returned from a visit to my landlord, Mr Heathcliff. I am delighted with the house I am renting from him. Thrushcross Grange is miles away from any town or village. That suits me perfectly. And the scenery here in Yorkshire is so beautiful!

Mr Heathcliff, in fact, is my only neighbour, and I think his character is similar to mine. He does not like people either.

‘My name is Lockwood,’ I said, when I met him at the gate to his house. ‘I’m renting Thrushcross Grange from you. I just wanted to come and introduce myself.’

He said nothing, but frowned, and did not encourage me to enter. After a while, however, he decided to invite me in.

‘Joseph, take Mr Lockwood’s horse!’ he called. ‘And bring up some wine from the cellar!’ Joseph was a very old servant, with a sour expression on his face. He looked crossly up at me as he took my horse.

‘God help us! A visitor!’ he muttered to himself. Perhaps there were no other servants, I thought. And it seemed that Mr Heathcliff hardly ever received guests.

His house is called Wuthering Heights. The name means ‘a windswept house on a hill’, and it is a very good description. The trees around the house do not grow straight, but are bent by the north wind, which blows over the moors every day of the year. Fortunately, the house is strongly built, and is not damaged even by the worst winter storms. The name ‘Earnshaw’ is cut into a stone over the front door.

Mr Heathcliff and I entered the huge main room. It could have been any Yorkshire farmhouse kitchen, except that there was no sign of cooking, and no farmer sitting at the table. Mr Heathcliff certainly does not look like a farmer. His hair and skin are dark, like a gipsy’s, but he has the manners of a gentleman. He could perhaps take more care with his appearance, but he is handsome. I think he is proud, and also unhappy.

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