That day he began to pack up, and she went upstairs and began to pack

also. Both knew that it was in their two minds that they might part

the next morning for ever, despite the gloss of assuaging conjectures

thrown over their proceeding because they were of the sort to whom

any parting which has an air of finality is a torture. He knew,

and she knew, that, though the fascination which each had exercised

over the other--on her part independently of accomplishments--would

probably in the first days of their separation be even more potent

than ever, time must attenuate that effect; the practical arguments

against accepting her as a housemate might pronounce themselves more

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strongly in the boreal light of a remoter view. Moreover, when two

people are once parted--have abandoned a common domicile and a common

environment--new growths insensibly bud upward to fill each vacated

place; unforeseen accidents hinder intentions, and old plans are

forgotten.

XXXVII

Midnight came and passed silently, for there was nothing to announce

it in the Valley of the Froom. Not long after one o'clock there was a slight creak in the darkened

farmhouse once the mansion of the d'Urbervilles. Tess, who used the

upper chamber, heard it and awoke. It had come from the corner step

of the staircase, which, as usual, was loosely nailed. She saw the

door of her bedroom open, and the figure of her husband crossed the

stream of moonlight with a curiously careful tread. He was in his

shirt and trousers only, and her first flush of joy died when she

perceived that his eyes were fixed in an unnatural stare on vacancy.

When he reached the middle of the room he stood still and murmured in

tones of indescribable sadness-"Dead! dead! dead!"

Under the influence of any strongly-disturbing force, Clare would

occasionally walk in his sleep, and even perform strange feats, such

as he had done on the night of their return from market just before

their marriage, when he re-enacted in his bedroom his combat with the

man who had insulted her. Tess saw that continued mental distress

had wrought him into that somnambulistic state now. Her loyal confidence in him lay so deep down in her heart, that,

awake or asleep, he inspired her with no sort of personal fear. If

he had entered with a pistol in his hand he would scarcely have

disturbed her trust in his protectiveness.

Clare came close, and bent over her. "Dead, dead, dead!" he murmured. After fixedly regarding her for some moments with the same gaze of

unmeasurable woe, he bent lower, enclosed her in his arms, and rolled

her in the sheet as in a shroud. Then lifting her from the bed with

as much respect as one would show to a dead body, he carried her

across the room, murmuring-"My poor, poor Tess--my dearest, darling Tess! So sweet, so good, so

true!" The words of endearment, withheld so severely in his waking hours,

were inexpressibly sweet to her forlorn and hungry heart. If it had

been to save her weary life she would not, by moving or struggling,

have put an end to the position she found herself in. Thus she lay

in absolute stillness, scarcely venturing to breathe, and, wondering

what he was going to do with her, suffered herself to be borne out

upon the landing. "My wife--dead, dead!" he said.




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