Yet could a woman
who had done even what she had done deserve all this? But she could
contest the point with him no further. She simply repeated after him
his own words.
"Until you come to me I must not try to come to you?"
"Just so."
"May I write to you?"
"O yes--if you are ill, or want anything at all. I hope that will
not be the case; so that it may happen that I write first to you."
"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my
punishment ought to be; only--only--don't make it more than I can
bear!"
That was all she said on the matter. If Tess had been artful, had
she made a scene, fainted, wept hysterically, in that lonely lane,
notwithstanding the fury of fastidiousness with which he was
possessed, he would probably not have withstood her. But her mood
of long-suffering made his way easy for him, and she herself was
his best advocate. Pride, too, entered into her submission--which
perhaps was a symptom of that reckless acquiescence in chance too
apparent in the whole d'Urberville family--and the many effective
chords which she could have stirred by an appeal were left untouched.
The remainder of their discourse was on practical matters only.
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