reach them. 'And what if she should have
slipped in clambering among them,' I reflected, 'and been killed, or
broken some of her bones?' My suspense was truly painful; and, at first,
it gave me delightful relief to observe, in hurrying by the farmhouse,
Charlie, the fiercest of the pointers, lying under a window, with swelled
head and bleeding ear. I opened the wicket and ran to the door, knocking
vehemently for admittance. A woman whom I knew, and who formerly lived
at Gimmerton, answered: she had been servant there since the death of Mr.
Earnshaw.

'Ah,' said she, 'you are come a-seeking your little mistress! Don't be
frightened. She's here safe: but I'm glad it isn't the master.'

'He is not at home then, is he?' I panted, quite breathless with quick
walking and alarm.

'No, no,' she replied: 'both he and Joseph are off, and I think they
won't return this hour or more. Step in and rest you a bit.'

I entered, and beheld my stray lamb seated on the hearth, rocking herself
in a little chair that had been her mother's when a child. Her hat was
hung against the wall, and she seemed perfectly at home, laughing and
chattering, in the best spirits imaginable, to Hareton--now a great,
strong lad of eighteen--who stared at her with considerable curiosity and
astonishment: comprehending precious little of the fluent succession of
remarks and questions which her tongue never ceased pouring forth.

'Very well, Miss!' I exclaimed, concealing my joy under an angry
countenance. 'This is your last ride, till papa comes back. I'll not
trust you over the threshold again, you naughty, naughty girl!'

'Aha, Ellen!' she cried, gaily, jumping up and running to my side. 'I
shall have a pretty story to tell to-night; and so you've found me out.
Have you ever been here in your life before?'

'Put that hat on, and home at once,' said I. 'I'm dreadfully grieved at
you, Miss Cathy: you've done extremely wrong! It's no use pouting and
crying: that won't repay the trouble I've had, scouring the country after
you. To think how Mr. Linton charged me to keep you in; and you stealing
off so! It shows you are a cunning little fox, and nobody will put faith
in you any more.'

'What have I done?' sobbed she, instantly checked. 'Papa charged me
nothing: he'll not scold me, Ellen--he's never cross, like you!'

'Come, come!' I repeated. 'I'll tie the riband. Now, let us have no
petulance. Oh, for shame! You thirteen years old,