en to a noise below; almost forgetting what he had in
his hands. 'Who is that?' he asked, hearing some one approaching the
stairs'-foot. I leant forward also, for the purpose of signing to
Heathcliff, whose step I recognised, not to come further; and, at the
instant when my eye quitted Hareton, he gave a sudden spring, delivered
himself from the careless grasp that held him, and fell.

There was scarcely time to experience a thrill of horror before we saw
that the little wretch was safe. Heathcliff arrived underneath just at
the critical moment; by a natural impulse he arrested his descent, and
setting him on his feet, looked up to discover the author of the
accident. A miser who has parted with a lucky lottery ticket for five
shillings, and finds next day he has lost in the bargain five thousand
pounds, could not show a blanker countenance than he did on beholding the
figure of Mr. Earnshaw above. It expressed, plainer than words could do,
the intensest anguish at having made himself the instrument of thwarting
his own revenge. Had it been dark, I daresay he would have tried to
remedy the mistake by smashing Hareton's skull on the steps; but, we
witnessed his salvation; and I was presently below with my precious
charge pressed to my heart. Hindley descended more leisurely, sobered
and abashed.

'It is your fault, Ellen,' he said; 'you should have kept him out of
sight: you should have taken him from me! Is he injured anywhere?'

'Injured!' I cried angrily; 'if he is not killed, he'll be an idiot! Oh!
I wonder his mother does not rise from her grave to see how you use him.
You're worse than a heathen--treating your own flesh and blood in that
manner!' He attempted to touch the child, who, on finding himself with
me, sobbed off his terror directly. At the first finger his father laid
on him, however, he shrieked again louder than before, and struggled as
if he would go into convulsions.

'You shall not meddle with him!' I continued. 'He hates you--they all
hate you--that's the truth! A happy family you have; and a pretty state
you're come to!'

'I shall come to a prettier, yet, Nelly,' laughed the misguided man,
recovering his hardness. 'At present, convey yourself and him away. And
hark you, Heathcliff! clear you too quite from my reach and hearing. I
wouldn't murder you to-night; unless, perhaps, I set the house on fire:
but that's as my fancy goes.'

While saying this he took a pint bottle of bra