her?'

'Why, yes. But she won't think o' doing that.'

'D'ye think he really have married her?--or is it like the first--'

Poor Tess, who had heard as far as this, could not bear to hear more.

The perception that her word could be doubted even here, in her own

parental house, set her mind against the spot as nothing else could

have done. How unexpected were the attacks of destiny! And if her

father doubted her a little, would not neighbours and acquaintance

doubt her much? O, she could not live long at home!

A few days, accordingly, were all that she allowed herself here, at

the end of which time she received a short note from Clare, informing

her that he had gone to the North of England to look at a farm. In

her craving for the lustre of her true position as his wife, and to

hide from her parents the vast extent of the division between them,

she made use of this letter as her reason for again departing,

leaving them under the impression that she was setting out to join

him. Still further to screen her husband from any imputation of

unkindness to her, she took twenty-five of the fifty pounds Clare

had given her, and handed the sum over to her mother, as if the wife

of a man like Angel Clare could well afford it, saying that it was a

slight return for the trouble and humiliation she had brought upon

them in years past. With this assertion of her dignity she bade them

farewell; and after that there were lively doings in the Durbeyfield

household for some time on the strength of Tess's bounty, her mother

saying, and, indeed, believing, that the rupture which had arisen

between the young husband and wife had adjusted itself under their

strong feeling that they could not live apart from each other.

XXXIX

It was three weeks after the marriage that Clare found himself

descending the hill which led to the well-known parsonage of his

father. With his downward course the tower of the church rose into

the evening sky in a manner of inquiry as to why he had come; and no

living person in the twilighted town seemed to notice him, still less

to expect him. He was arriving like a ghost, and the sound of his

own footsteps was almost an encumbrance to be got rid of.

The picture of life had changed for him. Before this time he had

known it but speculatively; now he thought he knew it as a practical

man; though perhaps he did not, even yet. Nevertheless humanity

stood before him no longer in the pensive sweetness of Italian art,

but in the staring and ghastly attitudes of a Wiertz Museum, and with

the leer of a study by Van Beers.

His conduct during these first weeks had been desultory beyond

description. After mechanically attempting to pursue his

agricultural plans as though nothing unusual had happened, in

the manner recommended by the great and wise men of all ages, he

concluded that very few of those great and wise men had ever gone so

far outside themselves as to test the feasibility of their counsel.

'This is the chief thing: be not perturbed,' said the Pagan moralist.

That was just Clare's own opinion. But he was perturbed. 'Let not

your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid,' said the Nazarene.

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