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.