 no thought to accidents or contingencies which
might make a quick discovery of her whereabouts by others of importance to her
own happiness, if not to theirs.
    Among the difficulties of her lonely position not the least was the
attention she excited by her appearance, a certain bearing of distinction, which
she had caught from Clare, being superadded to her natural attractiveness.
Whilst the clothes lasted which had been prepared for her marriage, these casual
glances of interest caused her no inconvenience, but as soon as she was
compelled to don the wrapper of a fieldwoman, rude words were addressed to her
more than once; but nothing occurred to cause her bodily fear till a particular
November afternoon.
    She had preferred the country west of the River Brit to the upland farm for
which she was now bound, because, for one thing, it was nearer to the home of
her husband's father; and to hover about that region unrecognized, with the
notion that she might decide to call at the Vicarage some day, gave her
pleasure. But having once decided to try the higher and drier levels, she
pressed back eastward, marching afoot towards the village of Chalk-Newton, where
she meant to pass the night.
    The lane was long and unvaried, and, owing to the rapid shortening of the
days, dusk came upon her before she was aware. She had reached the top of a hill
down which the lane stretched its serpentine length in glimpses, when she heard
footsteps behind her back, and in a few moments she was overtaken by a man. He
stepped up alongside Tess and said -
    »Good-night, my pretty maid:« to which she civilly replied.
    The light still remaining in the sky lit up her face, though the landscape
was nearly dark. The man turned and stared hard at her.
    »Why, surely, it is the young wench who was at Trantridge awhile - young
Squire d'Urberville's friend? I was there at that time, though I don't live
there now.«
    She recognized in him the well-to-do boor whom Angel had knocked down at the
inn for addressing her coarsely. A spasm of anguish shot through her, and she
returned him no answer.
    »Be honest enough to own it, and that what I said in the town was true,
though your fancy-man was so up about it - hey, my sly one? You ought to beg my
pardon for that blow of his, considering.«
    Still no answer came from Tess. There seemed only one escape for her hunted
soul. She suddenly
