Therefore, not to mention his clothes, which had seen three months'
service in mire and dust, and his thick uncombed hair, the surface
of his face and hands was dismally beclouded. He might well skulk
behind the settle, on beholding such a bright, graceful damsel
enter the house, instead of a rough-headed counterpart of himself,
as he expected. 'Is Heathcliff not here?' she demanded, pulling
off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully whitened with
doing nothing and staying indoors.

'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.'

'I shall not,' replied the boy, finding his tongue at last; 'I
shall not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it!' And he
would have broken from the circle, but Miss Cathy seized him again.