What arrested him now as of value in life was less its beauty than
its pathos. Having long discredited the old systems of mysticism,
he now began to discredit the old appraisements of morality. He
thought they wanted readjusting. Who was the moral man? Still more
pertinently, who was the moral woman? The beauty or ugliness of
a character lay not only in its achievements, but in its aims and
impulses; its true history lay, not among things done, but among
things willed.
How, then, about Tess?
Viewing her in these lights, a regret for his hasty judgement began
to oppress him. Did he reject her eternally, or did he not? He
could no longer say that he would always reject her, and not to say
that was in spirit to accept her now.
This growing fondness for her memory coincided in point of time
with her residence at Flintcomb-Ash, but it was before she had felt
herself at liberty to trouble him with a word about her circumstances
or her feelings. He was greatly perplexed; and in his perplexity as
to her motives in withholding intelligence, he did not inquire. Thus
her silence of docility was misinterpreted. How much it really said
if he had understood!--that she adhered with literal exactness to
orders which he had given and forgotten; that despite her natural
fearlessness she asserted no rights, admitted his judgement to be in
every respect the true one, and bent her head dumbly thereto.
Pages:
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566