Tess of the dUrbervilles - Page 212/283

"Yes," she replied sadly. "But I cannot believe in your conversion

to a new spirit. Such flashes as you feel, Alec, I fear don't last!"

Thus speaking she turned from the stile over which she had been

leaning, and faced him; whereupon his eyes, falling casually upon

the familiar countenance and form, remained contemplating her. The

inferior man was quiet in him now; but it was surely not extracted,

nor even entirely subdued. "Don't look at me like that!" he said abruptly.

Tess, who had been quite unconscious of her action and mien,

instantly withdrew the large dark gaze of her eyes, stammering with

a flush, "I beg your pardon!" And there was revived in her the

wretched sentiment which had often come to her before, that in

inhabiting the fleshly tabernacle with which Nature had endowed her

she was somehow doing wrong. "No, no! Don't beg my pardon. But since you wear a veil to hide

your good looks, why don't you keep it down?"

She pulled down the veil, saying hastily, "It was mostly to keep off

the wind." "It may seem harsh of me to dictate like this," he went on; "but

it is better that I should not look too often on you. It might be

dangerous."

"Ssh!" said Tess. "Well, women's faces have had too much power over me already for me

not to fear them! An evangelist has nothing to do with such as they;

and it reminds me of the old times that I would forget!"

After this their conversation dwindled to a casual remark now and

then as they rambled onward, Tess inwardly wondering how far he was

going with her, and not liking to send him back by positive mandate.

Frequently when they came to a gate or stile they found painted

thereon in red or blue letters some text of Scripture, and she

asked him if he knew who had been at the pains to blazon these

announcements. He told her that the man was employed by himself and

others who were working with him in that district, to paint these

reminders that no means might be left untried which might move the

hearts of a wicked generation.

At length the road touched the spot called "Cross-in-Hand." Of all

spots on the bleached and desolate upland this was the most forlorn.

It was so far removed from the charm which is sought in landscape by

artists and view-lovers as to reach a new kind of beauty, a negative

beauty of tragic tone. The place took its name from a stone pillar

which stood there, a strange rude monolith, from a stratum unknown

in any local quarry, on which was roughly carved a human hand.

Differing accounts were given of its history and purport. Some

authorities stated that a devotional cross had once formed the

complete erection thereon, of which the present relic was but the

stump; others that the stone as it stood was entire, and that it had

been fixed there to mark a boundary or place of meeting. Anyhow,

whatever the origin of the relic, there was and is something

sinister, or solemn, according to mood, in the scene amid which it

stands; something tending to impress the most phlegmatic passer-by.