room could deplore the possession of sensitiveness. Seeing that she was really suffering he seemed disturbed and added, “This is merely a reflection you know. I have not the least intention to refuse to complete the marriage, Tamsie mine—I could not bear it.” 

 “You could not, I know!” said the fair girl, brightening. “You, who cannot bear the sight of pain in even an insect, or any disagreeable sound, or unpleasant smell even, will not long cause pain to me and mine.” 

 “I will not, if I can help it.” 

 “Your hand upon it, Damon.” 

 He carelessly gave her his hand. 

 “Ah, by my crown, what’s that?” he said suddenly. 

 There fell upon their ears the sound of numerous voices singing in front of the house. Among these, two made themselves prominent by their peculiarity: one was a very strong bass, the other a wheezy thin piping. Thomasin recognized them as belonging to Timothy Fairway and Grandfer Cantle respectively. 

 “What does it mean—it is not skimmity-riding, I hope?” she said, with a frightened gaze at Wildeve. 

 “Of course not; no, it is that the heath-folk have come to sing to us a welcome. This is intolerable!” He began pacing about, the men outside singing cheerily— 

 “He told′ her that she′ was the joy′ of his life′, And if′ she’d con-sent′ he would make her his wife′; She could′ not refuse′ him; to church′ so they went′, Young Will was forgot′, and young Sue′ was content′; And then′ was she kiss’d′ and set down′ on his knee′, No man′ in the world′ was so lov′-ing as he′!” 

 Mrs. Yeobright burst in from the outer room. “Thomasin, Thomasin!” she said, looking indignantly at Wildeve; “here’s a pretty exposure! Let us escape at once. Come!” 

 It was, however, too late to get away by the passage. A rugged knocking had begun upon the door of the front room. Wildeve, who had gone to the window, came back. 

 “Stop!” he said imperiously, putting his hand upon Mrs. Yeobright’s arm. “We are regularly besieged. There are fifty of them out there if there’s one. You stay in this room with Thomasin; I’ll go out and face them. You must stay now, for my sake, till they are gone, so that it may seem as if all was right. Come, Tamsie dear, don’t go making a scene—we must marry after this; that you can see as well as I. Sit 

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