All this, looked upon as a
well-invented fiction in "Shirley," was written down by Charlotte with
streaming eyes; it was the literal true account of what Emily had done.
The same tawny bull-dog (with his "strangled whistle"), called "Tartar"
in "Shirley," was "Keeper" in Haworth parsonage; a gift to Emily. With
the gift came a warning. Keeper was faithful to the depths of his nature
as long as he was with friends; but he who struck him with a stick or
whip, roused the relentless nature of the brute, who flew at his throat
forthwith, and held him there till one or the other was at the point of
death. Now Keeper's household fault was this. He loved to steal
upstairs, and stretch his square, tawny limbs, on the comfortable beds,
covered over with delicate white counterpanes. But the cleanliness of
the parsonage arrangements was perfect; and this habit of Keeper's was so
objectionable, that Emily, in reply to Tabby's remonstrances, declared
that, if he was found again transgressing, she herself, in defiance of
warning and his well-known ferocity of nature, would beat him so severely
that he would never offend again. In the gathering dusk of an autumn
evening, Tabby came, half-triumphantly, half-tremblingly, but in great
wrath, to tell Emily that Keeper was lying on the best bed, in drowsy
voluptuousness.
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