twinkling; but immediately I felt an irresistible yearning to be at the
Heights. Superstition urged me to comply with this impulse: supposing he
should be dead! I thought--or should die soon!--supposing it were a sign
of death! The nearer I got to the house the more agitated I grew; and on
catching sight of it I trembled in every limb. The apparition had
outstripped me: it stood looking through the gate. That was my first
idea on observing an elf-locked, brown-eyed boy setting his ruddy
countenance against the bars. Further reflection suggested this must be
Hareton, _my_ Hareton, not altered greatly since I left him, ten months
since.

'God bless thee, darling!' I cried, forgetting instantaneously my
foolish fears. 'Hareton, it's Nelly! Nelly, thy nurse.'

He retreated out of arm's length, and picked up a large flint.

'I am come to see thy father, Hareton,' I added, guessing from the
action that Nelly, if she lived in his memory at all, was not recognised
as one with me.

He raised his missile to hurl it; I commenced a soothing speech, but
could not stay his hand: the stone struck my bonnet; and then ensued,
from the stammering lips of the little fellow, a string of curses, which,
whether he comprehended them or not, were delivered with practised
emphasis, and distorted his baby features into a shocking expression of
malignity. You may be certain this grieved more than angered me. Fit to
cry, I took an orange from my pocket, and offered it to propitiate him.
He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold; as if he fancied I only
intended to tempt and disappoint him. I showed another, keeping it out
of his reach.

'Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?' I inquired. 'The
curate?'

'Damn the curate, and thee! Gie me that,' he replied.

'Tell us where you got your lessons, and you shall have it,' said I.
'Who's your master?'

'Devil daddy,' was his answer.

'And what do you learn from daddy?' I continued.

He jumped at the fruit; I raised it higher. 'What does he teach you?' I
asked.

'Naught,' said he, 'but to keep out of his gait. Daddy cannot bide me,
because I swear at him.'

'Ah! and the devil teaches you to swear at daddy?' I observed.

'Ay--nay,' he drawled.

'Who, then?'

'Heathcliff.'

'I asked if he liked Mr. Heathcliff.'

'Ay!' he answered again.

Desiring to have his reasons for liking him, I could only gather the
sentences--'I known't: he pays dad back what he gies to