all the windows.
Ah--the explanation was that they were all at church, every one. She
remembered her husband saying that his father always insisted upon
the household, servants included, going to morning-service, and,
as a consequence, eating cold food when they came home. It was,
therefore, only necessary to wait till the service was over. She
would not make herself conspicuous by waiting on the spot, and she
started to get past the church into the lane. But as she reached the
churchyard-gate the people began pouring out, and Tess found herself
in the midst of them.
The Emminster congregation looked at her as only a congregation of
small country-townsfolk walking home at its leisure can look at a
woman out of the common whom it perceives to be a stranger. She
quickened her pace, and ascended the the road by which she had come,
to find a retreat between its hedges till the Vicar's family should
have lunched, and it might be convenient for them to receive her.
She soon distanced the churchgoers, except two youngish men, who,
linked arm-in-arm, were beating up behind her at a quick step.
As they drew nearer she could hear their voices engaged in earnest
discourse, and, with the natural quickness of a woman in her
situation, did not fail to recognize in those noises the quality
of her husband's tones. The pedestrians were his two brothers.
Forgetting all her plans, Tess's one dread was lest they should
overtake her now, in her disorganized condition, before she was
prepared to confront them; for though she felt that they could not
identify her, she instinctively dreaded their scrutiny. The more
briskly they walked, the more briskly walked she. They were plainly
bent upon taking a short quick stroll before going indoors to lunch
or dinner, to restore warmth to limbs chilled with sitting through a
long service.
Only one person had preceded Tess up the hill--a ladylike young
woman, somewhat interesting, though, perhaps, a trifle _guindйe_
and prudish. Tess had nearly overtaken her when the speed of her
brothers-in-law brought them so nearly behind her back that she could
hear every word of their conversation. They said nothing, however,
which particularly interested her till, observing the young lady
still further in front, one of them remarked, 'There is Mercy Chant.
Let us overtake her.'
Tess knew the name. It was the woman who had been destined for
Angel's life-companion by his and her parents, and whom he probably
would have married but for her intrusive self. She would have known
as much without previous information if she had waited a moment, for
one of the brothers proceeded to say: 'Ah! poor Angel, poor Angel!
I never see that nice girl without more and more regretting his
precipitancy in throwing himself away upon a dairymaid, or whatever
she may be. It is a queer business, apparently. Whether she has
joined him yet or not I don't know; but she had not done so some
months ago when I heard from him.'
'I can't say. He never tells me anything nowadays. His
