is the wont of bedecking cottagers to do. After this she went downstairs to her husband, who was sittingin the lower room"'ll tell 'ee what 'tis, Durbeyfield," said she exultingly, "he'll never have the heart not to love her. Butwhatever you do,don't zay toomuchtoTess ofhis fancyfor her,and this chance she has got.She is suchan odd maid that it mid zet her against him, or against going there, even now. If all goes well, I shallcertainlybe for making somereturn to pa'son at Stagfoot Lanefortelling us--dear,good man!"However, as the moment for the girl's setting out drew nigh, when the first excitement of the dressing hadpassed off, a slight misgiving found place in Joan Durbeyfield's mind. It prompted the matron to say thatshe would walk a little way--as far as to the point where the acclivity from the valley began its first steepascent to the outer world. At the top Tess was going to be met with the spring-cart sent by the Stoke-d'Urbervilles, and her box had already been wheeled ahead towards this summit by a lad with trucks, tobe in readiness.Seeing theirmother put on herbonnet the younger children clamouredtogo with her."I do want to walk a lttle-ways wi' Sissy,now she's going to marry our gentleman-cousin, and wearfinecloze!""Now," said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, "'ll hear no more o' that! Mother, how could you everputsuchstuff into their heads?""Going to work, my dears,for our rich relation, and help get enough money for a new horse," said MrsDurbeyfield pacifically."Goodbye, father," said Tess, with a lumpy throat."Goodbye, my maid,"said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended his nap, induced bya slight excess this morning in honour of the occasion."Well, I hope my young friend will like such acomely sample of his own blood. And tell'n, Tess, that being sunk, quite, from our former grandeur, I'llsell him the title--yes, sell it-and at no onreasonable figure.""Notfor less than a thousand pound!"cried LadyDurbeyfield"Tell'n--I'll take a thousand pound. Well, I'll take less, when I come to think o't. He'll adorn it better thana poor lammicken feller like myself can. Tell'n he shall hae it for a hundred. But I won't stand upontrifles--tel'n he shall hae it for fifty--for twenty pound! Yes, twenty pound--that's the lowest. Dammy,family honour is family honour, and I won't take a penny less!"Tess's eyes were too full and her voice too choked to utter the sentiments that were in her. She turnedquickly,and wentout.So the girls and their mother all walked together, a child on each side of Tess, holding her hand, andlooking at her meditatively from time to time, as at one who was about to do great things; her mother justbehind with the smallest, the group forming a picture of honest beauty flanked by innocence, and backedby simple-souled vanity.Theyfollowed the way till they reached the beginning of the ascent, on the crestof which the vehiclefromTrantridge was to receive her,this limit having been fixed to save the horse thelabour ofthelast slope.Far awaybehind thefirst hills the cliff-likedwellings of Shaston broke the line of- 31 -
- 31 - is the wont of bedecking cottagers to do. After this she went downstairs to her husband, who was sitting in the lower room. "I'll tell 'ee what 'tis, Durbeyfield," said she exultingly; "he'll never have the heart not to love her. But whatever you do, don't zay too much to Tess of his fancy for her, and this chance she has got. She is such an odd maid that it mid zet her against him, or against going there, even now. If all goes well, I shall certainly be for making some return to pa'son at Stagfoot Lane for telling us-dear, good man!" However, as the moment for the girl's setting out drew nigh, when the first excitement of the dressing had passed off, a slight misgiving found place in Joan Durbeyfield's mind. It prompted the matron to say that she would walk a little way-as far as to the point where the acclivity from the valley began its first steep ascent to the outer world. At the top Tess was going to be met with the spring-cart sent by the Stoked'Urbervilles, and her box had already been wheeled ahead towards this summit by a lad with trucks, to be in readiness. Seeing their mother put on her bonnet the younger children clamoured to go with her. "I do want to walk a little-ways wi' Sissy, now she's going to marry our gentleman-cousin, and wear fine cloze!" "Now," said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, "I'll hear no more o' that! Mother, how could you ever put such stuff into their heads?" "Going to work, my dears, for our rich relation, and help get enough money for a new horse," said Mrs Durbeyfield pacifically. "Goodbye, father," said Tess, with a lumpy throat. "Goodbye, my maid," said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended his nap, induced by a slight excess this morning in honour of the occasion. "Well, I hope my young friend will like such a comely sample of his own blood. And tell'n, Tess, that being sunk, quite, from our former grandeur, I'll sell him the title-yes, sell it-and at no onreasonable figure." "Not for less than a thousand pound!" cried Lady Durbeyfield. "Tell'n-I'll take a thousand pound. Well, I'll take less, when I come to think o't. He'll adorn it better than a poor lammicken feller like myself can. Tell'n he shall hae it for a hundred. But I won't stand upon trifles-tell'n he shall hae it for fifty-for twenty pound! Yes, twenty pound-that's the lowest. Dammy, family honour is family honour, and I won't take a penny less!" Tess's eyes were too full and her voice too choked to utter the sentiments that were in her. She turned quickly, and went out. So the girls and their mother all walked together, a child on each side of Tess, holding her hand, and looking at her meditatively from time to time, as at one who was about to do great things; her mother just behind with the smallest; the group forming a picture of honest beauty flanked by innocence, and backed by simple-souled vanity. They followed the way till they reached the beginning of the ascent, on the crest of which the vehicle from Trantridge was to receive her, this limit having been fixed to save the horse the labour of the last slope. Far away behind the first hills the cliff-like dwellings of Shaston broke the line of
theridge.Nobody was visible in the elevated road which skirted the ascent save the lad whom they hadsent on before them, sitting on the handle of the barrow that contained all Tess's worldly possessions."Bide here a bit, and the cart will soon come, no doubt,"said Mrs Durbeyfield."Yes,I see it yonder!"It had come--appearing suddenly from behind the forehead of the nearest upland, and stopping beside theboy with thebarrow.Hermother and thechildren thereupon decided to go nofarther, and bidding them ahasty goodbye Tess bent her steps up the hill.They saw her white shape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her box was already placed.But beforeshe had quite reached it another vehicle shot out from a clump of trees on the summit, came round thebend of the road there, passed the luggage-cart, and halted beside Tess, who looked up as if in greatsurpriseHer mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like thefirst, but a spick-and-span gig or dog-cart, highly varnished and equipped. The driver was a young man ofthree-or four-and-twenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab jacket, breeches ofthesamehue,white neckcloth, stick-up collar,and brown driving-gloves--in short,he was the handsome.horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess.Mrs Durbeyfield clapped her hands like a child. Then she looked down, then stared again. Could she bedeceived as to the meaning of this?"Is dat the gentleman-kinsman who'll make Sissy a lady?" asked the youngest child.Meanwhile the muslined form of Tess could be seen standing stil, undecided, beside this turn-out, whoseowner was talking to her. Her seeming indecision was, in fact, more than indecision: it was misgiving.She would have preferred the humble cart. The young man dismounted, and appeared to urge her toascend. She turned her face down the hill to her relatives, and regarded the little group. Somethingseemed to quicken her to a determination, possibly the thought that she had killed Prince.She suddenlystepped up,hemountedbesideher,and immediatelywhippedonthehorse.Ina momenttheyhadpassedthe slow cart with the box, and disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill.Directly Tess was out of sight, and the interest of the matter as a drama was at an end, the little ones eyesfilled with tears. The youngest child said, "I wish poor, poor Tess wasn't gone away to be a lady!" and,lowering the corners of his lips, burst out crying. The new point of view was infectious, and the nextchild did likewise, and then the next, till the whole three of them wailed loud.There were tears also in Joan Durbeyfield's eyes as she turned to go home. But by the time she had gotback to thevillage she waspassively trusting tothefavour ofaccident.However, inbed that night shesighed, and her husband asked her what was the matter."Oh, Idon't know exactly," she said."I was thinking that perhaps it would ha' been better if Tess had notgone.""Oughtn't ye to have thought of that before?""Well, 'tis a chance for the maid --- Still, if'twere the doing again, I wouldn't let her go till I had foundout whether the gentleman is really a good-hearted young man and choice overher as his kinswoman."-32-
- 32 - the ridge. Nobody was visible in the elevated road which skirted the ascent save the lad whom they had sent on before them, sitting on the handle of the barrow that contained all Tess's worldly possessions. "Bide here a bit, and the cart will soon come, no doubt," said Mrs Durbeyfield. "Yes, I see it yonder!" It had come-appearing suddenly from behind the forehead of the nearest upland, and stopping beside the boy with the barrow. Her mother and the children thereupon decided to go no farther, and bidding them a hasty goodbye Tess bent her steps up the hill. They saw her white shape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her box was already placed. But before she had quite reached it another vehicle shot out from a clump of trees on the summit, came round the bend of the road there, passed the luggage-cart, and halted beside Tess, who looked up as if in great surprise. Her mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like the first, but a spick-and-span gig or dog-cart, highly varnished and equipped. The driver was a young man of three-or four-and-twenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab jacket, breeches of the same hue, white neckcloth, stick-up collar, and brown driving-gloves-in short, he was the handsome, horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess. Mrs Durbeyfield clapped her hands like a child. Then she looked down, then stared again. Could she be deceived as to the meaning of this? "Is dat the gentleman-kinsman who'll make Sissy a lady?" asked the youngest child. Meanwhile the muslined form of Tess could be seen standing still, undecided, beside this turn-out, whose owner was talking to her. Her seeming indecision was, in fact, more than indecision: it was misgiving. She would have preferred the humble cart. The young man dismounted, and appeared to urge her to ascend. She turned her face down the hill to her relatives, and regarded the little group. Something seemed to quicken her to a determination; possibly the thought that she had killed Prince. She suddenly stepped up; he mounted beside her, and immediately whipped on the horse. In a moment they had passed the slow cart with the box, and disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill. Directly Tess was out of sight, and the interest of the matter as a drama was at an end, the little ones' eyes filled with tears. The youngest child said, "I wish poor, poor Tess wasn't gone away to be a lady!" and, lowering the corners of his lips, burst out crying. The new point of view was infectious, and the next child did likewise, and then the next, till the whole three of them wailed loud. There were tears also in Joan Durbeyfield's eyes as she turned to go home. But by the time she had got back to the village she was passively trusting to the favour of accident. However, in bed that night she sighed, and her husband asked her what was the matter. "Oh, I don't know exactly," she said. "I was thinking that perhaps it would ha' been better if Tess had not gone." "Oughtn't ye to have thought of that before?" "Well, 'tis a chance for the maid - Still, if 'twere the doing again, I wouldn't let her go till I had found out whether the gentleman is really a good-hearted young man and choice over her as his kinswoman
"Yes,you ought,perhaps, toha'donethat,"snored Sir JohnJoanDurbeyfield always managed tofind consolation somewhere:"Well, as one of the genuine stockshe ought to make her way with'en, if she plays her trump card aright. And if he don't marry her afore hewill after.For that he's all afire wi' love for her any eye can see.""What's her trump card? Her d'Urberville blood, you mean?""No, stupid; her face--as 'twas mine."Chapter8Having mounted beside her, Alec d'Urberville drove rapidly along the crest of the first hill, chattingcompliments to Tess as they went, the cart with her box being left far behind. Rising still, an immenselandscape stretched around them on every side, behind, the green valley of her birth, before, a graycountry of which sheknewnothing exceptfrom her firstbrief visit to Trantridge.Thus they reached theverge of an incline down which the road stretched in a long straight descent of nearly a mile.Ever since the accident with her father's horse Tess Durbeyfield, courageous as she naturally was, hadbeen exceedingly timid on wheels; the least irregularity of motion startled her. She began to get uneasy ata certain recklessness in her conductor's driving."You will go down slow, sir, I suppose?" she said with attempted unconcern.D'Urberville looked round upon her, nipped his cigar with the tips of his large white centre-teeth, andallowed his lips to smile slowly of themselves."Why, Tess," he answered, after another whiff or two, "it isn't a brave bouncing girl like you who asksthat? Why, Ialways go down at full gallop. There's nothing like it for raising your spirits.""But perhaps you need not now?""Ah,"he said, shaking his head, "there are two to be reckoned with. It is not me alone.Tib had to beconsidered, and she has a very queer temper.""Who?""Why, this mare. I fancy she looked round at me in a very grim way just then. Didn't you notice it?""Don't try to frighten me, sir," said Tess stiffly"Well, I don't. If any living man can manage this horse I can: I won't say any living man can do it--but ifsuchhasthepower,Iamhe.""Why do you have such a horse?""Ah, well may you ask it! It was my fate, I suppose.Tib haskilled one chap,and just after I bought hershe nearly killed me. And then, take my word for it, I nearly killed her. But she's touchy still, very touchy;and one's life is hardly safe behind her sometimes."- 33 -
- 33 - "Yes, you ought, perhaps, to ha' done that," snored Sir John. Joan Durbeyfield always managed to find consolation somewhere: "Well, as one of the genuine stock, she ought to make her way with 'en, if she plays her trump card aright. And if he don't marry her afore he will after. For that he's all afire wi' love for her any eye can see." "What's her trump card? Her d'Urberville blood, you mean?" "No, stupid; her face-as 'twas mine." Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 8 Having mounted beside her, Alec d'Urberville drove rapidly along the crest of the first hill, chatting compliments to Tess as they went, the cart with her box being left far behind. Rising still, an immense landscape stretched around them on every side; behind, the green valley of her birth, before, a gray country of which she knew nothing except from her first brief visit to Trantridge. Thus they reached the verge of an incline down which the road stretched in a long straight descent of nearly a mile. Ever since the accident with her father's horse Tess Durbeyfield, courageous as she naturally was, had been exceedingly timid on wheels; the least irregularity of motion startled her. She began to get uneasy at a certain recklessness in her conductor's driving. "You will go down slow, sir, I suppose?" she said with attempted unconcern. D'Urberville looked round upon her, nipped his cigar with the tips of his large white centre-teeth, and allowed his lips to smile slowly of themselves. "Why, Tess," he answered, after another whiff or two, "it isn't a brave bouncing girl like you who asks that? Why, I always go down at full gallop. There's nothing like it for raising your spirits." "But perhaps you need not now?" "Ah," he said, shaking his head, "there are two to be reckoned with. It is not me alone. Tib had to be considered, and she has a very queer temper." "Who?" "Why, this mare. I fancy she looked round at me in a very grim way just then. Didn't you notice it?" "Don't try to frighten me, sir," said Tess stiffly. "Well, I don't. If any living man can manage this horse I can: I won't say any living man can do it-but if such has the power, I am he." "Why do you have such a horse?" "Ah, well may you ask it! It was my fate, I suppose. Tib has killed one chap; and just after I bought her she nearly killed me. And then, take my word for it, I nearly killed her. But she's touchy still, very touchy; and one's life is hardly safe behind her sometimes
They were just beginning to descend; and it was evident that the horse, whether of her own will or of his(the latter being the more likely), knew so well the reckless performance expected of her that she hardlyrequireda hint from behind.Down, down, they sped, the wheels humming like a top, the dog-cart rocking right and left, its axisacquiring a slightly oblique set in relation to the line of progress, the figure of the horse rising and fallingin undulations before them. Sometimes a wheel was off the ground, it seemed, for many yards;sometimes a stone was sent spinning over the hedge, and flinty sparks from the horse's hoofs outshonethe daylight. The aspect of the straight road enlarged with their advance, the two banks dividing like asplitting stick, one rushing past at each shoulder.Thewind blewthroughTess's whitemuslin to her very skin, and her washed hair flew out behind.Shewas determined to show no open fear, but she clutched d'Urberville's rein-arm."Don't touch my arm! We shall be thrown out if you do! Hold on round my waist!"Shegrasped his waist, and so they reached thebottom"Safe, thank God, in spite of your fooling!" said she, her face on fire."Tess--fie! that's temper!" said d'Urberville"Tis truth.""Well, you need not let go your hold of me so thanklessly the moment you feel yourself our of danger."She had not considered what she had been doing, whether he were man or woman, stick or stone, in herinvoluntary hold on him.Recovering her reserve she sat without replying, and thus they reached thesummitofanotherdeclivity."Now then, again!" said d'Urberville"No, no!" said Tess."Show more sense, do, please.""But when people find themselves on one of the highest points in the county, they must get down again,"he retorted.He loosened rein, and away they went a second time. D'Urberville turned his face to her as they rocked.and said, in playful raillery: "Now then, put your arms round my waist again, as you did before, myBeauty.""Neverl" said Tess independently, holding on as well as she could without touching him."Let me put one little kiss on those holmberry lips, Tess, or even on that warmed cheek, and r'll stop--onmy honour, I will!"Tess, surprised beyond measure, slid farther back still on her seat, at which he urged the horse anew,androcked her the more-34-
- 34 - They were just beginning to descend; and it was evident that the horse, whether of her own will or of his (the latter being the more likely), knew so well the reckless performance expected of her that she hardly required a hint from behind. Down, down, they sped, the wheels humming like a top, the dog-cart rocking right and left, its axis acquiring a slightly oblique set in relation to the line of progress; the figure of the horse rising and falling in undulations before them. Sometimes a wheel was off the ground, it seemed, for many yards; sometimes a stone was sent spinning over the hedge, and flinty sparks from the horse's hoofs outshone the daylight. The aspect of the straight road enlarged with their advance, the two banks dividing like a splitting stick; one rushing past at each shoulder. The wind blew through Tess's white muslin to her very skin, and her washed hair flew out behind. She was determined to show no open fear, but she clutched d'Urberville's rein-arm. "Don't touch my arm! We shall be thrown out if you do! Hold on round my waist!" She grasped his waist, and so they reached the bottom. "Safe, thank God, in spite of your fooling!" said she, her face on fire. "Tess-fie! that's temper!" said d'Urberville. "'Tis truth." "Well, you need not let go your hold of me so thanklessly the moment you feel yourself our of danger." She had not considered what she had been doing; whether he were man or woman, stick or stone, in her involuntary hold on him. Recovering her reserve she sat without replying, and thus they reached the summit of another declivity. "Now then, again!" said d'Urberville. "No, no!" said Tess. "Show more sense, do, please." "But when people find themselves on one of the highest points in the county, they must get down again," he retorted. He loosened rein, and away they went a second time. D'Urberville turned his face to her as they rocked, and said, in playful raillery: "Now then, put your arms round my waist again, as you did before, my Beauty." "Never!" said Tess independently, holding on as well as she could without touching him. "Let me put one little kiss on those holmberry lips, Tess, or even on that warmed cheek, and I'll stop-on my honour, I will!" Tess, surprised beyond measure, slid farther back still on her seat, at which he urged the horse anew, and rocked her the more
"Will nothing else do?" she cried at length, in desperation, her large eyes staring at him like those of awild animal. This dressing her up so prettily by her mother had apparently been to lamentable purpose"Nothing, dear Tess," he replied."Oh, I don't know--very well; I don't mind!" she panted miserablyHe drew rein, and as they slowed he was on the point of imprinting the desired salute, when, as if hardlyyet aware of her own modesty, she dodged aside. His arms being occupied with the reins there was lefthim no power to prevent her manoeuvre."Now, damn it--I'll break both our necks!" swore her capriciously passionate companion."So you can gofrom your word like that, you young witch, can you?""Very well," said Tess, "I'll not more since you be so determined! But I--thought you would be kind tome, and protect me, as my kinsman!""Kinsman be hanged! Now!""But I don't want anybody to kiss me, sir!" she implored, a big tear beginning to roll down her face, andthe corners of her mouth trembling in her attempts not to cry."And I wouldn't ha' come if I had known!'He was inexorable, and she sat still, and d'Urberville gave her thekiss of mastery.No sooner had he donesothan sheflushedwith shame,took out herhandkerchief,and wiped thespot on her cheek that had beentouched byhis lips.His ardourwas nettled at the sight, forthe act on her part had been unconsciouslydone."You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl!" said the young manTess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not quite comprehend the drift, unheedingthe snub she had administered by her instinctive rub upon her cheek. She had, in fact, undone the kiss, asfar as sucha thing was physically possible.With a dim sense that he was vexed she looked steadily aheadas they trotted on near Melbury Down and Wingreen, till she saw, to her consternation, that there was yetanotherdescenttobeundergone."You shall be made sorry for that!" he resumed, his injured tone still remaining, as he flourished the whipanew."Unless, that is, you agree willingly to let me do it again, and no handkerchief."She sighed. "Very well, sir!" she said. "Oh--let me get my hat!"At the moment of speaking her hat had blown off intothe road, their present speed on the upland beingby no means slow.D'Urberville pulled up, and said he would get it for her, but Tess was down on theother side.She turned back and picked up the article"You look prettier with it off, upon my soul, if that's possible, he said, contemplating her over the backof the vehicle."Now then, up again! What's the matter?"The hat was inplaceand tied, but Tesshad not stepped forward.-35-
- 35 - "Will nothing else do?" she cried at length, in desperation, her large eyes staring at him like those of a wild animal. This dressing her up so prettily by her mother had apparently been to lamentable purpose. "Nothing, dear Tess," he replied. "Oh, I don't know-very well; I don't mind!" she panted miserably. He drew rein, and as they slowed he was on the point of imprinting the desired salute, when, as if hardly yet aware of her own modesty, she dodged aside. His arms being occupied with the reins there was left him no power to prevent her manoeuvre. "Now, damn it-I'll break both our necks!" swore her capriciously passionate companion. "So you can go from your word like that, you young witch, can you?" "Very well," said Tess, "I'll not more since you be so determined! But I-thought you would be kind to me, and protect me, as my kinsman!" "Kinsman be hanged! Now!" "But I don't want anybody to kiss me, sir!" she implored, a big tear beginning to roll down her face, and the corners of her mouth trembling in her attempts not to cry. "And I wouldn't ha' come if I had known!" He was inexorable, and she sat still, and d'Urberville gave her the kiss of mastery. No sooner had he done so than she flushed with shame, took out her handkerchief, and wiped the spot on her cheek that had been touched by his lips. His ardour was nettled at the sight, for the act on her part had been unconsciously done. "You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl!" said the young man. Tess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not quite comprehend the drift, unheeding the snub she had administered by her instinctive rub upon her cheek. She had, in fact, undone the kiss, as far as such a thing was physically possible. With a dim sense that he was vexed she looked steadily ahead as they trotted on near Melbury Down and Wingreen, till she saw, to her consternation, that there was yet another descent to be undergone. "You shall be made sorry for that!" he resumed, his injured tone still remaining, as he flourished the whip anew. "Unless, that is, you agree willingly to let me do it again, and no handkerchief." She sighed. "Very well, sir!" she said. "Oh-let me get my hat!" At the moment of speaking her hat had blown off into the road, their present speed on the upland being by no means slow. D'Urberville pulled up, and said he would get it for her, but Tess was down on the other side. She turned back and picked up the article. "You look prettier with it off, upon my soul, if that's possible," he said, contemplating her over the back of the vehicle. "Now then, up again! What's the matter?" The hat was in place and tied, but Tess had not stepped forward