During their discourse one of the clerical brothers probed the hedge
carefully with his umbrella, and dragged something to light.
"Here's a pair of old boots," he said. "Thrown away, I suppose, by
some tramp or other."
"Some imposter who wished to come into the town barefoot, perhaps,
and so excite our sympathies," said Miss Chant. "Yes, it must have
been, for they are excellent walking-boots--by no means worn out.
What a wicked thing to do! I'll carry them home for some poor
person."
Cuthbert Clare, who had been the one to find them, picked them up for
her with the crook of his stick; and Tess's boots were appropriated.
She, who had heard this, walked past under the screen of her woollen
veil till, presently looking back, she perceived that the church
party had left the gate with her boots and retreated down the hill.
Thereupon our heroine resumed her walk. Tears, blinding tears, were
running down her face. She knew that it was all sentiment, all
baseless impressibility, which had caused her to read the scene as
her own condemnation; nevertheless she could not get over it; she
could not contravene in her own defenceless person all those untoward
omens. It was impossible to think of returning to the Vicarage.
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