Phase the Fifth: The Woman Pays
36. CHAPTER XXXVI (continued)
Yet such is the vulpine slyness of Dame Nature, that,
till now, Tess had been hoodwinked by her love for
Clare into forgetting it might result in vitalizations
that would inflict upon others what she had bewailed as
misfortune to herself.
She therefore could not withstand his argument. But
with the self-combating proclivity of the
supersensitive, an answer thereto arose in Clare's own
mind, and he almost feared it. It was based on her
exceptional physical nature; and she might have used it
promisingly. She might have added besides: "On an
Australian upland or Texan plain, who is to know or
care about my misfortunes, or to reproach me or you?"
Yet, like the majority of women, she accepted the
momentary presentment as if it were the inevitable.
And she may have been right. The intuitive heart of
woman knoweth not only its own bitterness, but its
husband's, and even if these assumed reproaches were
not likely to be addressed to him or to his by
strangers, they might have reached his ears from his
own fastidious brain.
It was the third day of the estrangement. Some might
risk the odd paradox that with more animalism he would
have been the nobler man. We do not say it. Yet
Clare's love was doubtless ethereal to a fault,
imaginative to impracticability. With these natures,
corporal presence is something less appealing than
corporal absence; the latter creating an ideal presence
that conveniently drops the defects of the real. She
found that her personality did not plead her cause so
forcibly as she had anticipated. The figurative phrase
was true: she was another woman than the one who had
excited his desire.
"I have thought over what you say," she remarked to
him, moving her forefinger over the tablecloth, her
other hand, which bore the ring that mocked them both,
supporting her forehead. "It is quite true all of it;
it must be. You must go away from me."
"But what can you do?"'
"I can go home."
Clare had not thought of that.
"Are you sure?" he inquired.
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