Tess of the dUrbervilles - Page 209/283

But the moment that she moved again he recognized her. The effect

upon her old lover was electric, far stronger than the effect of his

presence upon her. His fire, the tumultuous ring of his eloquence,

seemed to go out of him. His lip struggled and trembled under the

words that lay upon it; but deliver them it could not as long as she

faced him. His eyes, after their first glance upon her face, hung

confusedly in every other direction but hers, but came back in a

desperate leap every few seconds. This paralysis lasted, however,

but a short time; for Tess's energies returned with the atrophy of

his, and she walked as fast as she was able past the barn and onward.

As soon as she could reflect, it appalled her, this change in their

relative platforms. He who had wrought her undoing was now on the

side of the Spirit, while she remained unregenerate. And, as in the

legend, it had resulted that her Cyprian image had suddenly appeared

upon his altar, whereby the fire of the priest had been well nigh

extinguished. 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.