"Heathcliff, you may come forward," cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his discomfiture, and gratified to see what a forbidding young blackguard he would be compelled to present himself. "You may come and wish Miss Catherine welcome, like the other servants."
Cathy, catching a glimpse of her friend in his concealment, flew to embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek within the second, and then stopped, and drawing back, burst into a laugh, exclaiming, "Why, how very black and cross you look! and how-how funny and grim! But that's because I'm used to Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?"
She had some reason to put the question, for shame and pride threw double gloom over his countenance, and kept him immovable.
"Shake hands, Heathcliff," said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; "once in a way that is permitted."

'Heathcliff, come forward,' cried Mr. Hindley, enjoying his discomfiture. 'Come and wish Miss Catherine welcome, like the other servants.'
Cathy flew to embrace him; she bestowed seven or eight kisses on his cheek before she stopped, and burst into a laugh, exclaiming, 'Why, how very black and cross you look! and how funny and grim! But that's because I'm used to Edgar and Isabella Linton. Well, Heathcliff, have you forgotten me?'
Shame and pride kept him silent.
'Shake hands, Heathcliff,' said Mr. Earnshaw, condescendingly; 'once in a way that is permitted.'
