A pattering of hoofs on the soil of the field, which they had not noticed in their preoccupation, ceased close behind them; and a voice reached her ear: 

“What the devil are you doing away from your work at this time o’ day?”

Farmer Groby had espied the two figures from the distance, and had inquisitively ridden across, to learn what was their business in his field.

“Don’t speak like that to her!” said d’Urberville, his face blackening with something that was not Christianity.

“Indeed, Mister!  And what mid Methodist pa’sons have to do with she?”

“Who is the fellow?” asked d’Urberville, turning to Tess.

She went close up to him.

“Go—­I do beg you!” she said.

“What!  And leave you to that tyrant?  I can see in his face what a churl he is.”

“He won’t hurt me.  HE’S not in love with me.  I can leave at Lady-Day.”

“Well, I have no right but to obey, I suppose.  But—­well, goodbye!”

Her defender, whom she dreaded more than her assailant, having reluctantly disappeared, the farmer continued his reprimand, which Tess took with the greatest coolness, that sort of attack being independent of sex.  To have as a master this man of stone, who would have cuffed her if he had dared, was almost a relief after her former experiences.  She silently walked back towards the summit of the field that was the scene of her labour, so absorbed in the interview which had just taken place that she was hardly aware that the nose of Groby’s horse almost touched her shoulders.

“If so be you make an agreement to work for me till Lady-Day, I’ll see that you carry it out,” he growled. “’Od rot the women—­now ’tis one thing, and then ’tis another.  But I’ll put up with it no longer!”

Knowing very well that he did not harass the other women of the farm as he harassed her out of spite for the flooring he had once received, she did for one moment picture what might have been the result if she had been free to accept the offer just made her of being the monied Alec’s wife.  It would have lifted her completely out of subjection, not only to her present oppressive employer, but to a whole world who seemed to despise her.  “But no, no!” she said breathlessly; “I could not have married him now!  He is so unpleasant to me.”

That very night she began an appealing letter to Clare, concealing from him her hardships, and assuring him of her undying affection.  Any one who had been in a position to read between the lines would have seen that at the back of her great love was some monstrous fear—­almost a desperation—­as to some secret contingencies which were not disclosed.  But again she did not finish her effusion; he had asked Izz to go with him, and perhaps he did not care for her at all.  She put the letter in her box, and wondered if it would ever reach Angel’s hands.