Phase the Fourth: The Consequence
33. CHAPTER XXXIII (continued)
By the time they reached home she was contrite and
spiritless. She was Mrs Angel Clare, indeed, but had
she any moral right to the name? Was she not more
truly Mrs Alexander d'Urberville? Could intensity of
love justify what might be considered in upright souls
as culpable reticence? She knew not what was expected
of women in such cases; and she had no counsellor.
However, when she found herself alone in her room for a
few minutes--the last day this on which she was ever to
enter it--she knelt down and prayed. She tried to pray
to God, but it was her husband who really had her
supplication. Her idolatry of this man was such that
she herself almost feared it to be ill-omened. She was
conscious of the notion expressed by Friar Laurence:
"These violent delights have violent ends." It might
be too desperate for human conditions--too rank, to
wild, too deadly.
"O my love, why do I love you so!" she whispered there
alone; "for she you love is not my real self, but one
in my image; the one I might have been!"
Afternoon came, and with it the hour for departure.
They had decided to fulfil the plan of going for a few
days to the lodgings in the old farmhouse near
Wellbridge Mill, at which he meant to reside during his
investigation of flour processes. At two o'clock there
was nothing left to do but to start. All the servantry
of the dairy were standing in the red-brick entry to
see them go out, the dairyman and his wife following to
the door. Tess saw her three chamber-mates in a row
against the wall, pensively inclining their heads. She
had much questioned if they would appear at the parting
moment; but there they were, stoical and staunch to the
last. She knew why the delicate Retty looked to
fragile, and Izz so tragically sorrowful and Marian so
blank; and she forgot her own dogging shadow for a
moment in contemplating theirs.
She impulsively whispered to him----
"Will you kiss 'em all, once, poor things, for the
first and last time?"
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