Clare was relieved at this change, for the effect on her of what had
happened was beginning to be a trouble to him only less than the
woe of the disclosure itself. He waited patiently, apathetically,
till the violence of her grief had worn itself out, and her rush of
weeping had lessened to a catching gasp at intervals.
"Angel," she said suddenly, in her natural tones, the insane, dry
voice of terror having left her now. "Angel, am I too wicked for
you and me to live together?" "I have not been able to think what we can do."
"I shan't ask you to let me live with you, Angel, because I have
no right to! I shall not write to mother and sisters to say we be
married, as I said I would do; and I shan't finish the good-hussif'
I cut out and meant to make while we were in lodgings."
"Shan't you?"
"No, I shan't do anything, unless you order me to; and if you go away
from me I shall not follow 'ee; and if you never speak to me any more
I shall not ask why, unless you tell me I may."
"And if I order you to do anything?"
"I will obey you like your wretched slave, even if it is to lie down
and die." "You are very good. But it strikes me that there is a want of
harmony between your present mood of self-sacrifice and your past
mood of self-preservation." These were the first words of antagonism.
To fling elaborate
sarcasms at Tess, however, was much like flinging them at a dog or
cat. The charms of their subtlety passed by her unappreciated, and
she only received them as inimical sounds which meant that anger
ruled. She remained mute, not knowing that he was smothering his
affection for her. She hardly observed that a tear descended slowly
upon his cheek, a tear so large that it magnified the pores of the
skin over which it rolled, like the object lens of a microscope.
Meanwhile reillumination as to the terrible and total change that her
confession had wrought in his life, in his universe, returned to him,
and he tried desperately to advance among the new conditions in which
he stood. Some consequent action was necessary; yet what?
"Tess," he said, as gently as he could speak, "I cannot stay--in this
room--just now. I will walk out a little way."
He quietly left the room, and the two glasses of wine that he had
poured out for their supper--one for her, one for him--remained on
the table untasted. This was what their agape had come to. At
tea, two or three hours earlier, they had, in the freakishness of
affection, drunk from one cup.