"What do you mean?" asked Zillah. "It's not his tale: they tell that in the village-about your being lost in the marsh; and I calls to Earnshaw, when I come in-'Eh, they's queer things, Mr. Hareton, happened since I went off. It's a sad pity of that likely young lass, and cant Nelly Dean.' He stared. I thought he had not heard aught, so I told him the rumour. The master listened, and he just smiled to himself, and said, 'If they have been in the marsh, they are out now, Zillah. Nelly Dean is lodged, at this minute, in your room. You can tell her to flit, when you go up; here is the key. The bog-water got into her head, and she would have run home quite flighty; but I fixed her till she came round to her senses. 
'It's not his tale,' said Zillah. 'They tell it in the village - about your being lost in the marsh; and I calls to Earnshaw, when I come in, "Eh, Mr. Hareton, it's a sad pity of that likely young lass, and Nelly Dean." He stared, so I told him the rumour. The master listened, and smiled, and said, "If they have been in the marsh, they are out now, Zillah. Nelly Dean is lodged in your room. You can tell her to leave, when you go up; here is the key. The bog-water got into her head; but she has come to her senses. 