He had, he said, been the greatest of sinners. He had
scoffed; he had wantonly associated with the reckless and the lewd.
But a day of awakening had come, and, in a human sense, it had been
brought about mainly by the influence of a certain clergyman, whom he
had at first grossly insulted; but whose parting words had sunk into
his heart, and had remained there, till by the grace of Heaven they
had worked this change in him, and made him what they saw him.
But more startling to Tess than the doctrine had been the voice,
which, impossible as it seemed, was precisely that of Alec
d'Urberville. Her face fixed in painful suspense, she came round
to the front of the barn, and passed before it. The low winter sun
beamed directly upon the great double-doored entrance on this side;
one of the doors being open, so that the rays stretched far in over
the threshing-floor to the preacher and his audience, all snugly
sheltered from the northern breeze. The listeners were entirely
villagers, among them being the man whom she had seen carrying the
red paint-pot on a former memorable occasion. But her attention
was given to the central figure, who stood upon some sacks of corn,
facing the people and the door.
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