 would give you
grounds for that.«
    »O Tess - you are too, too - childish - unformed - crude, I suppose! I don't
know what you are. You don't understand the law - you don't understand!«
    »What - you cannot?«
    »Indeed I cannot.«
    A quick shame mixed with the misery upon his listener's face.
    »I thought - I thought,« she whispered. »O, now I see how wicked I seem to
you! Believe me - believe me, on my soul, I never thought but that you could! I
hoped you would not; yet I believed, without a doubt, that you could cast me off
if you were determined, and didn't love me at - at - all!«
    »You were mistaken,« he said.
    »O, then I ought to have done it, to have done it last night! But I hadn't
the courage. That's just like me!«
    »The courage to do what?«
    As she did not answer he took her by the hand.
    »What were you thinking of doing?« he inquired.
    »Of putting an end to myself.«
    »When?«
    She writhed under this inquisitorial manner of his. »Last night,« she
answered.
    »Where?«
    »Under your mistletoe.«
    »My good -! How?« he asked sternly.
    »I'll tell you, if you won't be angry with me!« she said, shrinking. »It was
with the cord of my box. But I could not - do the last thing! I was afraid that
it might cause a scandal to your name.«
    The unexpected quality of this confession, wrung from her, and not
volunteered, shook him perceptibly. But he still held her, and, letting his
glance fall from her face downwards, he said.
    »Now, listen to this. You must not dare to think of such a horrible thing!
How could you! You will promise me as your husband to attempt that no more.«
    »I am ready to promise. I saw how wicked it was.«
    »Wicked! The idea was unworthy of you beyond description.«
    »But, Angel,« she pleaded, enlarging her eyes in calm unconcern upon him,
»it was thought of entirely on your account - to set you free without the
scandal of the divorce that I thought you would have to get. I should never have
dreamt of doing
