Phase the Fifth: The Woman Pays
36. CHAPTER XXXVI (continued)
About one he showed himself. Her face flushed,
although he was a quarter of a mile off. She ran to
the kitchen to get the dinner served by the time he
should enter. He went first to the room where they had
washed their hands together the day before, and as he
entered the sitting-room the dish-covers rose from the
dishes as if by his own motion.
"How punctual!" he said.
"Yes. I saw you coming over the bridge," said she.
The meal was passed in commonplace talk of what he had
been doing during the morning at the Abbey Mill, of the
methods of bolting and the old-fashioned machinery,
which he feared would not enlighten him greatly on
modern improved methods, some of it seeming to have
been in use ever since the days it ground for the monks
in the adjoining conventual buildings--now a heap of
ruins. He left the house again in the course of an
hour, coming home at dusk, and occupying himself
through the evening with his papers. She feared she
was in the way, and, when the old woman was gone,
retired to the kitchen, where she made herself busy as
well as she could for more than an hour.
Clare's shape appeared at the door. "You must not work
like this," he said. "You are not my servant; you are
my wife."
She raised her eyes, and brightened somewhat. "I may
think myself that--indeed?" she murmured, in piteous
raillery. "You mean in name! Well, I don't want to be
anything more."
"You MAY think so, Tess! You are. What do you mean?"
"I don't know," she said hastily, with tears in her
accents. "I thought I--because I am not respectable,
I mean. I told you I thought I was not respectable
enough long ago--and on that account I didn't want to
marry you, only--only you urged me!"
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