ill-considered marriage seems to have completed that estrangement
from me which was begun by his extraordinary opinions.'
Tess beat up the long hill still faster; but she could not outwalk
them without exciting notice. At last they outsped her altogether,
and passed her by. The young lady still further ahead heard their
footsteps and turned. Then there was a greeting and a shaking of
hands, and the three went on together.
They soon reached the summit of the hill, and, evidently intending
this point to be the limit of their promenade, slackened pace and
turned all three aside to the gate whereat Tess had paused an hour
before that time to reconnoitre the town before descending into it.
During their discourse one of the clerical brothers probed the hedge
carefully with his umbrella, and dragged something to light.
'Here's a pair of old boots,' he said. 'Thrown away, I suppose, by
some tramp or other.'
'Some imposter who wished to come into the town barefoot, perhaps,
and so excite our sympathies,' said Miss Chant. 'Yes, it must have
been, for they are excellent walking-boots--by no means worn out.
What a wicked thing to do! I'll carry them home for some poor
person.'
Cuthbert Clare, who had been the one to find them, picked them up for
her with the crook of his stick; and Tess's boots were appropriated.
She, who had heard this, walked past under the screen of her woollen
veil till, presently looking back, she perceived that the church
party had left the gate with her boots and retreated down the hill.
Thereupon our heroine resumed her walk. Tears, blinding tears, were
running down her face. She knew that it was all sentiment, all
baseless impressibility, which had caused her to read the scene as
her own condemnation; nevertheless she could not get over it; she
could not contravene in her own defenceless person all those untoward
omens. It was impossible to think of returning to the Vicarage.
Angel's wife felt almost as if she had been hounded up that hill like
a scorned thing by those--to her--superfine clerics. Innocently
as the slight had been inflicted, it was somewhat unfortunate that
she had encountered the sons and not the father, who, despite his
narrowness, was far less starched and ironed than they, and had to
the full the gift of charity. As she again thought of her dusty
boots she almost pitied those habiliments for the quizzing to which
they had been subjected, and felt how hopeless life was for their
owner.
'Ah!' she said, still sighing in pity of herself, 'THEY didn't know
that I wore those over the roughest part of the road to save these
pretty ones HE bought for me--no--they did not know it! And they
didn't think that HE chose the colour o' my pretty frock--no--how
could they? If they had known perhaps they would not have cared,
for they don't care much for him, poor thing!'
Then she grieved for the beloved man whose conventional standard of
judgement had caused her all these latter sorrows; and she went her
way without knowing that the greatest misfortune of her life was this
feminine loss of courage at the last and critical moment through her
