Having at last taken her course Tess was less restless and abstracted, going about her business with some self-assurance in the thought of acquiring another horse for h er fath er by an occup ation which would not b e on erous.She h ad hoped to b e a teacher at the school, but the fates s eemed to decide o therwise.Being mentally older than her mother she d id not regard Mrs.Durbey field's matrimonial hopes for her in a s erious aspect for a moment.The light-minded woman had been discovering good matches for h er daughter almost from the year of her birth.
7
On the morning appointed for h er depar ture Tess was awake beforedawn—at the marginal minute of the dark when the grove is still mute, save for one proph etic bird who sings with a clear-vo iced conv iction that h e at least knows the correct tim e of day, the rest pres erving silence as if equ ally convinced that he is m istaken.She r emained upstairs packing till breakfast-time, and then came do wn in her o rdinary weekday clo thes, her Sunday apparel being carefully folded in her box.
Her mother expostulated.“You will never set out to see your folks without dressing up more the dand than that?”
“But I am going to work！”said Tess.
“Well, yes, ”said Mrs.Durbeyfield; and in a private tone, “at first there mid be a little pretence o't……But I think it will be wiser of'ee to put your best side outward, ”she added.
“Very well; I suppose you know best, ”rep lied Tess with calmabandonment.
And to please her par ent the girl put herself quite in Joan's hands, saying serenely—“Do what you like with me, mother.”
Mrs.Durbey field was only too delighted at this tractability.First sh e fetched a great basin, and washed Tess's hair with such thoroughness that when dried and brushed it looked twice as much as at o ther times.She tied it with a broader pink ribbon than usual.Then she put upon her the white frock that Tess had worn at the clu b-waiking, the airy fulness of which, sup plementing her enlarged coiffure, imparted to her developing figure an amplitude which belied her age, and might cause her to be estimated as a woman when she was not much more than a child.
“I declare there's a hole in my stocking-heel！”said Tess.
“Never mind holes in y our stocking s—they don't speak！When I was a maid, so long as I had a pretty bonnet the devil might ha'found me in heels.”
Her mothe r's pride in th e gir l's appearance led h er to s tep b ack, like a painter from his easel, and survey her work as a whole.
“You must zee yourself！”she cried.“It is much better than you was t'other day.”
As the looking-glass was only large enough to ref lect a very small portion of Tess's person at one time, Mrs.Durbeyfield hung a black cloak outside th e casement, and so made a large r eflector of th e panes, as it is th e 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 go t.She is su ch an odd maid that it mid zet her against him, or agains t going there, even now.If all go es well, I shall certainly be for making so me return to that 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 o f the dressin g had p assed off, a slig ht misgiving found p lace in Joan Durbeyfield's mind.It prompted the matron to say that she would walk a little way—as far as 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 s ent by the Stoke d'Urbervilles, and her box had already beenwheeled ahead towards this summit by a lad with trucks, to be in readiness.
Seeing their mother put on her bonnet the y ounger children clamoured to go with her.
“I do want to walk a little-way s 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, m y d ears, for our rich relatio n, and help get eno ugh money for a new horse, ”said Mrs.Durbeyfield pacificaly.
“Goodbye, father, ”said Tess, with a lumpy throat.
“Good-bye, my maid, ”said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended his nap, indu ced 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, fro m 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 co me to think o't.He'll adorn it better than a poor lammicken f eller like myself can.Tell'n he shall hae it fo r a hun dred.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 v oice too choked to u tter the sentiments that were in her.She turned quickly, and went out.
So the gi rls and their mother all walked together, a child on each side o f 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 wh ich the vehicle fron Trantridge was to receive her, this limit having b een fixed to save the horse the labour of the las t slope.Far away behind the first hills the cliff-like dwellings of Shaston broke the line of 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 th e handle of thebarrow that contained all Tess's worldly possessions.
“Bide here a bit, and the car t will soon co me, 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 b eside the bo y with the barrow.Her m other 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 sh ape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her bo x 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 h alted beside Tess, who look ed up as if in great surprise.
Her mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like the firs t, but a spick-and-span gig or dog-cart, highly varnished and equipped.The driver was a y oung man of three-or four and-twenty, with a c igar b etween his teeth; wearing a dandy ca p, drab jacket, breeches of the sa me hue, white neckcloth, s tick-up collar, and bro wn 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 S issy a lady?”asked th e youngest child.
Meanwhile the muslined for m of Tess cou ld be seen standing s till, undecided, beside this tur n-out, whose owner was talkin g 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.S he turned her face down the hi ll 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 th e horse.In am oment they had passed the slow cart with the box, and disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill.
Directly Tess was ou t 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 acciden t.However, in b ed that n ight s he sighed, and her husb and 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 ch ance fo r th e maid—Still, if'twere the do ing agai n, I wouldn't let her go till I had found out whether the g entleman is really a good-hearted young man and choice over her as his kinswoman.”
“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 s tock, she ough t to make her way with'en, if she p lays her trump card arigh t.And if h e don't marry her afore h e 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.”
8
Having mounted beside her, Al ec d'Urberville drove rapidly alongthe 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 nothin g excep t fr om h er firs t brief v isit to Trantridge.Thus they reached the verge of an incline dow n which the roa d stretched in a long straight descent of nearly a mile.
Ever s ince th e accident with her father's horse Tess Durbeyfield, courageous as she natu rally was, had been exceedingly timid on wheels; the least irregularity of motio n startled he r.She began to get un easy at a certa in recklessness in her conductor's driving.
“You will go down slow, sir, I s uppose?”she said with attem pted unconcern.
D'Urberville looked roun d upon h er, nipped his cigar with the tips of his large white center-teeth, and allowed his lips to smile slowly of themselves.
“Why, Tess, ”he answer ed, af ter ano ther whif f o r two, “it isn't a brav e bouncing girl like you who asks that?Why, I alway s go down at full g allop.There's nothing like it for raising your spirits.”
“But perhaps you need not now?”
“Ah, ”he said, shaking his head, “ther e are two to be reckoned with.It is not me alone.Tib has to be considered, and she has a very queer temper.”
“Who?”
“Why, this mare.I fan cy 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 i t！It was m y fate, I supp ose.Tib has killed on e chap; and just after I bought her she nearly killed me.And then, take my word for it, I ne arly killed her.But she's touchy still, v ery touchy; and one's life is hardly safe behind her sometimes.”
They were just begin ning to descend; and it was evident that the horse, whether of her own will or of h is（the latter b eing the more likely）, knew so well the reckless perfor mance expected of her th at she hard ly required a hin t from behind.
Down, down, they sped, the wheels humming like a top, the dogcar t 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.So metimes a wheel was off the ground, it seemed, fo r many y ards; 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 d ividing like a splitting stick; one rushing past at each shoulder.
The wind b lew 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！H old 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 out of danger.”
She had not considered what she had been doing; whether he were man or woman, stick or s tone, 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 f ind themselves on one of the highes t p oints in th e 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 co uld without touching him.
“Let me put one little k iss on those holm berry lips, Tess, or even on th at 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 a wild anim al.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 th e point of imprinting the desired salute, when, as if hardly yet aware of her own m odesty, she dodged aside.His arms being occupied with the reins there was le ft him no p ower to prevent her manoeuvre.
“Now, damn it—I'll break both o ur necks！”swore her capriciously passonate co mpanion.“So y ou can g o fro m y our word like that, y ou y oung witch, can you?”
“Very well, ”said Tess, “I'll not move 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, s ir！”sh e implor ed, 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 sti ll, and d'Urberville gave her the kiss of mastery.No sooner had h e done so th an she flush ed with shame, too k out h er handkerchief, and wiped the spot o n her cheek th at had b een touched by his lips.H is ard our was nettled at th e s ight, for the act on h er part had b een unconsciously done.
“You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl！”said the young man.
Tess made n o reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she d id not qu ite comprehend the dr ift, unheeding the snub she had ad ministered by her instinctive rub upon her cheek.She h ad, in fact, undone the kiss, as far as su ch 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 s he saw, to her consternation, that there was yet another descent to be undergone.
“You shall be made sor ry for that！”he resu med, his injured tone s till 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 speak ing her hat had blown off in to the road, their present speed on th e upland being b y 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 p rettier with it off, upon m y soul, if that's possible, ”he said, contemplating her over the back of the veh icle.“Now then, u p again！Wh at's the matter?”
The hat was in place and tied, but Tess had not stepped forward.
“No, sir, ”she said, revealing the red and ivory of her mouth as her eye lit in defiant triumph; “not again, if I know it！”
“What—you won't get up beside me?”
“No; I shall walk.”
“'Tis five or six miles yet to Trantridge.”
“I don't care if'tis dozens.Besides, the cart is behind.”
“You artful hussy！Now, tell me—didn't you make th at hat b low off o n purpose?I'll swear you did！”
Her strategic silence confirmed his suspicion.
Then d'Urberville cursed and swore at her, and called her everything he could think of for the tr ick.Turning the horse su ddenly he tried to driv e back upon her, and so hem her in between the gig and the hedge.But he could not do this short of injuring her.
“You ought to be ashamed of y ourself for us ing such wick ed words！”cried Tess with spirit, from the top of the hedge into which she had scrambled.“I don't like'ee at all！I hate and detest you！I'll go back to mother, I will！”
D'Urberville's bad tem per cleared u p at s ight of hers; and he lau ghed heartily.
“Well, I lik e you all the better, ”he s aid.“Come, let there be peace.I'll never do it any more against your will.My life upon it now！”
Still Tess could not be induced to remount.She did not, however, object to his keeping his g ig alongside h er; and in th is manner, at a s low pace, th ey advanced to wards the v illage of Tr antridge.Fro m time to t ime d'Urberville exhibited a sort of fierce distress at the sight of the tramping he had driven her to undertake by his misd emeanour.She might in truth hav e safely trusted him now; but he had forfeited her conf idence for the time, and s he kept o n th e ground, progressing thoughtfully, as if wondering whether it would be wiser to return home.Her reso lve, however, had been taken, and it seemed vacillating even to ch ildishness to abandon it no w, unless for graver r easons.How could she face her parents, get back her box, and disconcert the whole scheme for the rehabilitation of her family on such sentimental grounds?
A few minutes later the chimneys of The Slopes appeared in view, and in a snug nook to the right the poultry-farm and cottage of Tess's destination.
9
The community of fowls to which Tess had been appointed assupervisor, purveyor, nurse, surgeon, and friend, made its headquarters in an old thatched cottage standing in an enclosure th at had once been a garden, but was now a tram pled and sanded squ are.The house was overrun with ivy, its chimney being enlarged by the boughs of the par asite to the aspect of a ruined tower.The lower room s were entirely given over to the b irds, who walked about them with a prop rietary air, as though the place had been built by themselves, and not by certain dusty copyholders who now lay east and west in the chur chyard.The descendants of these by gone owners felt it almost as aslight to their family when the house which had so much of their affection, had cost so much of their forefathers'money, and had been in their possession for several gen erations b efore the d'Urbervilles came and built h ere, was indifferently turned into a fowl-house by Mrs.Stoke-d'Urberville as soon as the prop erty fell in to h and according to law.”'Twas good enough f or Christians in grandfather's time, ”they said.
The roo ms wherein do zens of inf ants had wailed at their n ursing no w resounded with the tapping of nascent chicks.Distracted hens in coops occupied sp ots where f ormerly stoo d chairs sup porting s edate agr iculturists.The chi mneycorner and once blaz ing hearth w as now fille d with inve rted beehives, in which the hens laid their eggs; while out of doors the p lots that each succeeding householder had carefully shaped with his spade were torn by the cocks in wildest fashion.
The garden in which th e cottage stood was surrounded by a wall, an d could only be entered through a door.
When Tess had occup ied herself ab out an hour the next morning i n altering and improving the arrangements, according to her skilled ideas as the daughter of a professed poulterer, the door in the wall op ened and a servant in white cap and apron entered.She had come from the manorhouse.
“Mrs.d'Urberville wants the fowls as usual, ”she said; but perceiving that Tess did not quite understand, she explained, “Mis'ess is a old lady, and blind.”
“Blind！”said Tess.
Almost before her misgiving at the news could find time to shape itself she took, under her co mpanion's direction, two of the most beautiful o f th e Hamburghs in her ar ms, and fo llowed th e maid-servant, who had likewise taken two, to th e ad jacent mansion, which, though ornate and imposing, showed traces every where on this side that so me occupan t of its chamber s could bend to the love of dumb creatures—feathers floating within view of the front, and hen-coops standing on the grass.
