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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"Tess of the d'Urbervilles"


When they saw where she lay, which they had not done till then, they
showed no objection, and stood watching her, as still as the pillars
around. He went to the stone and bent over her, holding one poor
little hand; her breathing now was quick and small, like that of a
lesser creature than a woman. All waited in the growing light, their
faces and hands as if they were silvered, the remainder of their
figures dark, the stones glistening green-gray, the Plain still a
mass of shade. Soon the light was strong, and a ray shone upon her
unconscious form, peering under her eyelids and waking her.
"What is it, Angel?" she said, starting up. "Have they come for me?"
"Yes, dearest," he said. "They have come."
"It is as it should be," she murmured. "Angel, I am almost glad--yes,
glad! This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much. I
have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!"
She stood up, shook herself, and went forward, neither of the men
having moved.
"I am ready," she said quietly.

LIX

The city of Wintoncester, that fine old city, aforetime capital
of Wessex, lay amidst its convex and concave downlands in all the
brightness and warmth of a July morning.


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