"She is a dear dear Tess,"

he thought to himself, as one deciding on the true construction of

a difficult passage. "Do I realize solemnly enough how utterly and

irretrievably this little womanly thing is the creature of my good

or bad faith and fortune? I think not. I think I could not, unless

I were a woman myself. What I am in worldly estate, she is. What I

become, she must become. What I cannot be, she cannot be. And shall

I ever neglect her, or hurt her, or even forget to consider her? God

forbid such a crime!" They sat on over the tea-table waiting for their luggage, which the

dairyman had promised to send before it grew dark. But evening began

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to close in, and the luggage did not arrive, and they had brought

nothing more than they stood in. With the departure of the sun the

calm mood of the winter day changed. Out of doors there began noises

as of silk smartly rubbed; the restful dead leaves of the preceding

autumn were stirred to irritated resurrection, and whirled about

unwillingly, and tapped against the shutters. It soon began to rain. "That cock knew the weather was going to change," said Clare. The woman who had attended upon them had gone home for the night, but

she had placed candles upon the table, and now they lit them. Each

candle-flame drew towards the fireplace. "These old houses are so draughty," continued Angel, looking at the

flames, and at the grease guttering down the sides. "I wonder where

that luggage is. We haven't even a brush and comb."

"I don't know," she answered, absent-minded.

"Tess, you are not a bit cheerful this evening--not at all as you

used to be. Those harridans on the panels upstairs have unsettled

you. I am sorry I brought you here. I wonder if you really love me,

after all?" He knew that she did, and the words had no serious intent; but she

was surcharged with emotion, and winced like a wounded animal.

Though she tried not to shed tears, she could not help showing one

or two. "I did not mean it!" said he, sorry. "You are worried at not having

your things, I know. I cannot think why old Jonathan has not come

with them. Why, it is seven o'clock? Ah, there he is!"

A knock had come to the door, and, there being nobody else to answer

it, Clare went out. He returned to the room with a small package in

his hand. "It is not Jonathan, after all," he said. "How vexing!" said Tess.




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