and back of the fireplace with its colour, and the well-polished
andirons, and the old brass tongs that would not meet. The underside
of the mantel-shelf was flushed with the high-coloured light, and
the legs of the table nearest the fire. Tess's face and neck
reflected the same warmth, which each gem turned into an Aldebaran
or a Sirius--a constellation of white, red, and green flashes, that
interchanged their hues with her every pulsation.

"Do you remember what we said to each other this morning about
telling our faults?" he asked abruptly, finding that she still
remained immovable. "We spoke lightly perhaps, and you may well
have done so. But for me it was no light promise. I want to make
a confession to you, Love."

This, from him, so unexpectedly apposite, had the effect upon her of
a Providential interposition.

"You have to confess something?" she said quickly, and even with
gladness and relief.

"You did not expect it? Ah--you thought too highly of me. Now
listen. Put your head there, because I want you to forgive me, and
not to be indignant with me for not telling you before, as perhaps
I ought to have done."

How strange it was! He seemed to be her double. She did not speak,
and Clare went on--

"I did not mention it because I was afraid of endangering my chance
of you, darling, the great prize of my life--my Fellowship I call
you. My brother's Fellowship was won at his college, mine at
Talbothays Dairy. Well, I would not risk it. I was going to tell
you a month ago--at the time you agreed to be mine, but I could not;
I thought it might frighten you away from me. I put it off; then I
thought I would tell you yesterday, to give you a chance at least of
escaping me. But I did not. And I did not this morning, when you
proposed our confessing our faults on the landing--the sinner that I
was! But I must, now I see you sitting there so solemnly. I wonder
if you will forgive me?"

"O yes! I am sure that--"

"Well, I hope so. But wait a minute. You don't know. To begin at
the beginning. Though I imagine my poor father fears that I am one
of the eternally lost for my doctrines, I am of course, a believer in
good morals, Tess, as much as you. I used to wish to be a teacher of
men, and it was a great disappointment to me when I found I could not
enter the Church. I admired spotlessness, even though I could lay no
claim to it, and hated impurity, as I hope I do now. Whatever one
may