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."

Superstition urged me to go: supposing it were a sign of death!
As I got nearer to the house I trembled in every limb, for the apparition stood there again, looking through the gate, an elf-haired, brown-eyed boy pressing his face against the bars. Then I realised it was Hareton, my Hareton, not altered greatly since I left him, ten months since.
'God bless thee, darling!' I cried. 'Hareton, it's Nelly, thy nurse.'
