fain have ridden forwards, afeard you should be uneasy. Hareton offered to go with her, and I thought he should: it’s a wild road over the hills.’

Hareton, during the discussion, stood with his hands in his pockets, too awkward to speak; though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.

‘How long am I to wait?’ I continued, disregarding the woman’s interference. ‘It will be dark in ten minutes. Where is the pony, Miss Cathy? And where is Phoenix? I shall leave you, unless you be quick; so please yourself.’

‘The pony is in the yard,’ she replied, ‘and Phoenix is shut in there. He’s bitten - and so is Charlie. I was going to tell you all about it; but you are in a bad temper, and don’t deserve to hear.’