She went on without turning her head. Her back seemed to be endowed
with a sensitiveness to ocular beams--even her clothing--so alive
was she to a fancied gaze which might be resting upon her from the
outside of that barn. All the way along to this point her heart
had been heavy with an inactive sorrow; now there was a change in
the quality of its trouble. That hunger for affection too long
withheld was for the time displaced by an almost physical sense
of an implacable past which still engirdled her. It intensified
her consciousness of error to a practical despair; the break of
continuity between her earlier and present existence, which she had
hoped for, had not, after all, taken place. Bygones would never be
complete bygones till she was a bygone herself.
Thus absorbed, she recrossed the northern part of Long-Ash Lane at
right angles, and presently saw before her the road ascending whitely
to the upland along whose margin the remainder of her journey lay.
Its dry pale surface stretched severely onward, unbroken by a single
figure, vehicle, or mark, save some occasional brown horse-droppings
which dotted its cold aridity here and there. While slowly breasting
this ascent Tess became conscious of footsteps behind her, and
turning she saw approaching that well-known form--so strangely
accoutred as the Methodist--the one personage in all the world she
wished not to encounter alone on this side of the grave.
There was not much time, however, for thought or elusion, and she
yielded as calmly as she could to the necessity of letting him
overtake her. She saw that he was excited, less by the speed of his
walk than by the feelings within him.
'Tess!' he said.
She slackened speed without looking round.
'Tess!' he repeated. 'It is I--Alec d'Urberville.'
She then looked back at him, and he came up.
'I see it is,' she answered coldly.
'Well--is that all? Yet I deserve no more! Of course,' he added,
with a slight laugh, 'there is something of the ridiculous to your
eyes in seeing me like this. But--I must put up with that. ... I
heard you had gone away; nobody knew where. Tess, you wonder why I
have followed you?'
'I do, rather; and I would that you had not, with all my heart!'
'Yes--you may well say it,' he returned grimly, as they moved onward
together, she with unwilling tread. 'But don't mistake me; I beg
this because you may have been led to do so in noticing--if you did
notice it--how your sudden appearance unnerved me down there. It was
but a momentary faltering; and considering what you have been to me,
it was natural enough. But will helped me through it--though perhaps
you think me a humbug for saying it--and immediately afterwards I
felt that of all persons in the world whom it was my duty and desire
to save from the wrath to come--sneer if you like--the woman whom I
had so grievously wronged was that person. I have come with that
sole purpose in view--nothing more.'
There was the smallest vein of scorn in her words of rejoinder: 'Have
you saved yourself? Charity begins at home, they say.'
