She looked a sudden fear that her resistance might break down under
her own desire.
'O, Tessy!' he went on, 'I CANNOT think why you are so tantalizing.
Why do you disappoint me so? You seem almost like a coquette, upon
my life you do--a coquette of the first urban water! They blow
hot and blow cold, just as you do, and it is the very last sort of
thing to expect to find in a retreat like Talbothays. ... And yet,
dearest,' he quickly added, observing now the remark had cut her, 'I
know you to be the most honest, spotless creature that ever lived.
So how can I suppose you a flirt? Tess, why don't you like the idea
of being my wife, if you love me as you seem to do?'
'I have never said I don't like the idea, and I never could say it;
because--it isn't true!'
The stress now getting beyond endurance, her lip quivered, and she
was obliged to go away. Clare was so pained and perplexed that he
ran after and caught her in the passage.
'Tell me, tell me!' he said, passionately clasping her, in
forgetfulness of his curdy hands: 'do tell me that you won't belong
to anybody but me!'
'I will, I will tell you!' she exclaimed. 'And I will give you a
complete answer, if you will let me go now. I will tell you my
experiences--all about myself--all!'
'Your experiences, dear; yes, certainly; any number.' He expressed
assent in loving satire, looking into her face. 'My Tess, no doubt,
almost as many experiences as that wild convolvulus out there on the
garden hedge, that opened itself this morning for the first time.
Tell me anything, but don't use that wretched expression any more
about not being worthy of me.'
'I will try--not! And I'll give you my reasons to-morrow--next
week.'
'Say on Sunday?'
'Yes, on Sunday.'
At last she got away, and did not stop in her retreat till she was in
the thicket of pollard willows at the lower side of the barton, where
she could be quite unseen. Here Tess flung herself down upon the
rustling undergrowth of spear-grass, as upon a bed, and remained
crouching in palpitating misery broken by momentary shoots of joy,
which her fears about the ending could not altogether suppress.
In reality, she was drifting into acquiescence. Every see-saw of her
breath, every wave of her blood, every pulse singing in her ears, was
a voice that joined with nature in revolt against her scrupulousness.
Reckless, inconsiderate acceptance of him; to close with him at the
altar, revealing nothing, and chancing discovery; to snatch ripe
pleasure before the iron teeth of pain could have time to shut upon
her: that was what love counselled; and in almost a terror of ecstasy
Tess divined that, despite her many months of lonely self-chastisement,
wrestlings, communings, schemes to lead a future of austere
isolation, love's counsel would prevail.
The afternoon advanced, and still she remained among the willows.
