stretched out her hand at the window, and our hero, with the eager spring of a hungry tiger, darted forward, grasped her wrist with his left hand, and drawing his sword with the right, exclaimed in a tone of fury, “Revenge at least is left me—by yon blessed sky above us, I’ll be trifled with no longer—off goes your hand, unless you consent to our union this instant, and on this very spot.” “Lord! don’t squeeze so hard and look so fierce,” cried the lady of Ystrad Fîn. Twm, with increased boisterousness, resumed, “On your answer will depend whether, for the remainder of your life, you will have a single, or a pair of hands—for on the pronouncing of a negative, this hand, this soft white hand, beautiful as it is, will instantly fly, severed from the wrist.” “I would not so much care,” cried the lady of Ystrad Fîn, “but for your horrid name; I could not endure to be called Mrs. Twm Shôn Catti.” “I have protested bitterly, and will not be forsworn,” cried Twm, “that here, even here, with your hand thus stretched through the window, the marriage ceremony shall be performed; and so your answer at once without evasion.” “The parson of our parish is gone to a christening,” said the lady of Ystrad Fîn. “Yes or no!” roared the terrific Twm, menacing the threatened blow. “Well then, as I could not handle a knife and fork, or play my spinnet, or give you a box on the ear when I want pastime, I may as well say—yes!” “Bless thee for that,” cried Twm in extacy, and eagerly kissed the captured hand. With his left hand he drew forth a small bugle, and blew a loud blast that was re-echoed by the surrounding mountains. Immediately a party of ten persons, wearing masks appeared, one of which was arrayed in a clerical habit, who without further ado commenced the marriage ceremony, Twm the while holding her hand through the window.