"Deny that he has kissed you."
"I shall not."
"Ha—then he has!" came hoarsely from the farmer.
"He has," she said, slowly, and, in spite of her fear, defiantly. "I am not ashamed to speak the truth."
"Then curse him; and curse him!" said Boldwood, breaking into a whispered fury. "Whilst I would have given worlds to touch your hand, you have let a rake come in without right or ceremony and—kiss you! Heaven's mercy—kiss you!... Ah, a time of his life shall come when he will have to repent, and think wretchedly of the pain he has caused another man; and then he may ache, and wish, and curse, and yearn―as I do now!"
"Don't, don't, oh, don't pray down evil upon him!" she implored in a miserable cry. "Anything but that—anything. Oh, be kind to him, sir, for I love him true!"
Boldwood's ideas had reached that point of fusion at which outline and consistency entirely disappear. The impending night appeared to concentrate in his eye. He did not hear her at all now.
"I'll punish him—by my soul, that will I! I'll meet him, soldier or no, and I'll horsewhip
