Tess of the d'Urbervilles .....................................................................................................................................1

Thomas Hardy ..........................................................................................................................................1

On an evening in the latter part of May a middleaged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the

village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him were

rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line. He

occasionally gave a smart nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion, though he was not thinking of anything

in particular. An empty eggbasket was slung upon his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a patch being

quite worn away at its brim where his thumb came in taking it off. Presently he was met by an elderly parson

"Now, sir, begging your pardon; we met last marketday on this road about this time, and I said "Good

"Then what might your meaning be in calling me 'Sir John' these different times, when I be plain Jack

"It was only my whim," he said; and, after a moment's hesitation: "It was on account of a discovery I made

some little time ago, whilst I was hunting up pedigrees for the new county history. I am Parson Tringham, the

antiquary, of Stagfoot Lane. Don't you really know, Durbeyfield, that you are the lineal representative of the

ancient and knightly family of the d'Urbervilles, who derive their descent from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, that

renowned knight who came from Normandy with William the Conqueror, as appears by Battle Abbey Roll?"

"Well it's true. Throw up your chin a moment, so that I may catch the profile of your face better. Yes, that's

the d'Urberville nose and china little debased. Your ancestor was one of the twelve knights who assisted

the Lord of Estremavilla in Normandy in his conquest of Glamorganshire. Branches of your family held

manors over all this part of England; their names appear in the Pipe Rolls in the time of King Stephen. In the

reign of King John one of them was rich enough to give a manor to the Knights Hospitallers; and in Edward

the Second's time your forefather Brian was summoned to Westminster to attend the great Council there. You

declined a little in Oliver Cromwell's time, but to no serious extent, and in Charles the Second's reign you

were made Knights of the Royal Oak for your loyalty. Aye, there have been generations of Sir Johns among

you, and if knighthood were hereditary, like a baronetcy, as it practically was in old times, when men were

"In short," concluded the parson, decisively smacking his leg with his switch, "there's hardly such another

"Daze my eyes, and isn't there?" said Durbeyfield. "And here have I been knocking about, year after year,

from pillar to post, as if I was no more than the commonest feller in the parish....And how long hev this news

The clergyman explained that, as far as he was aware, it had quite died out of knowledge, and could hardly be

said to be known at all. His own investigations had begun on a day in the preceding spring when, having been

engaged in tracing the vicissitudes of the d'Urberville family, he had observed Durbeyfield's name on his

waggon, and had thereupon been led to make inquiries about his father and grandfather till he had no doubt

"At first I resolved not to disturb you with such a useless piece of information," said he. "However, our

impulses are too strong for our judgement sometimes. I thought you might perhaps know something of it all

"Well, I have heard once or twice, 'tis true, that my family had seen better days afore they came to

Blackmoor. But I took no notice o't, thinking it to mean that we had once kept two horses where we now keep

only one. I've got a wold silver spoon, and a wold graven seal at home, too; but, Lord, what's a spoon and

seal? ... And to think that I and these noble d'Urbervilles were one flesh all the time. 'Twas said that my

gr'tgranfer had secrets, and didn't care to talk of where he came from.... And where do we raise our smoke,

"Yeswhat the mendacious family chronicles call extinct in the male linethat is, gone downgone

"At KingsberesubGreenhill: rows and rows of you in your vaults, with your effigies under Purbeckmarble

"None; though you once had 'em in abundance, as I said, for you family consisted of numerous branches. In

this county there was a seat of yours at Kingsbere, and another at Sherton, and another in Millpond, and

"Ohnothing, nothing; except chasten yourself with the thought of 'how are the mighty fallen.' It is a fact of

some interest to the local historian and genealogist, nothing more. There are several families among the

"But you'll turn back and have a quart of beer wi' me on the strength o't, Pa'son Tringham? There's a very

pretty brew in tap at The Pure Dropthough, to be sure, not so good as at Rolliver's."

"No, thank younot this evening, Durbeyfield. You've had enough already." Concluding thus the parson

rode on his way, with doubts as to his discretion in retailing this curious bit of lore.

When he was gone Durbeyfield walked a few steps in a profound reverie, and then sat down upon the grassy

bank by the roadside, depositing his basket before him. In a few minutes a youth appeared in the distance,

walking in the same direction as that which had been pursued by Durbeyfield. The latter, on seeing him, held

The lathlike stripling frowned. "Who be you, then, John Durbeyfield, to order me about and call me 'boy?'

"Do you, do you? That's the secretthat's the secret! Now obey my orders, and take the message I'm going

to charge 'ee wi'.... Well, Fred, I don't mind telling you that the secret is that I'm one of a noble raceit has

been just found out by me this present afternoon, P.M." And as he made the announcement, Durbeyfield,

declining from his sitting position, luxuriously stretched himself out upon the bank among the daisies.

The lad stood before Durbeyfield, and contemplated his length from crown to toe.

"Sir John d'Urbervillethat's who I am," continued the prostrate man. "That is if knights were

baronetswhich they be. "Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as

"'Tisn't a city, the place I mean; leastwise 'twaddn' when I was there'twas a little oneeyed, blinking sort

"Never you mind the place, boy, that's not the question before us. Under the church of that there parish lie my

ancestorshundreds of 'emin coats of mail and jewels, in gr't lead coffins weighing tons and tons. There's

not a man in the county o' SouthWessex that's got grander and nobler skillentons in his family than I."

"Now take up that basket, and goo on to Marlott, and when you've come to The Pure Drop Inn, tell 'em to

send a horse and carriage to me immed'ately, to carry me hwome. And in the bottom o' the carriage they be to

put a noggin o' rum in a small bottle, and chalk it up to my account. And when you've done that goo on to my

house with the basket, and tell my wife to put away that washing, because she needn't finish it, and wait till I

As the lad stood in a dubious attitude, Durbeyfield put his hand in his pocket, and produced a shilling, one of

"Tell 'em at hwome that I should like for supper,well, lamb's fry if they can get it; and if they can't,

The boy took up the basket, and as he set out the notes of a brass band were heard from the direction of the

"'Tis the women's clubwalking, Sir John. Why, your da'ter is one o' the members."

"To be sureI'd quite forgot it in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order

The lad departed, and Durbeyfield lay waiting on the grass and daisies in the evening sun. Not a soul passed

that way for a long while, and the faint notes of the band were the only human sounds audible within the rim

The village of Marlott lay amid the northeastern undulations of the beautiful Vale of Blakemore or

Blackmoor aforesaid, and engirdled and secluded region, for the most part untrodden as yet by tourist or

It is a vale whose acquaintance is best made by viewing it from the summits of the hills that surround

itexcept perhaps during the droughts of summer. An unguided ramble into its recesses in bad weather is

This fertile and sheltered tract of country, in which the fields are never brown and the springs never dry, is

bounded on the south by the bold chalk ridge that embraces the prominences of Hambledon Hill, Bulbarrow,

NettlecombeTout, Dogbury, High Stoy, and Bubb Down. The traveller from the coast, who, after plodding

northward for a score of miles over calcareous downs and cornlands, suddenly reaches the verge of one of

these escarpments, is surprised and delighted to behold, extended like a map beneath him, a country differing

absolutely from that which he has passed through. Behind him the hills are open, the sun blazes down upon

fields so large as to give an unenclosed character to the landscape, the lanes are white, the hedges low and

plashed, the atmosphere colourless. Here, in the valley, the world seems to be constructed upon a smaller and

more delicate scale; the fields are mere paddocks, so reduced that from this height their hedgerows appear a

network of dark green threads overspreading the paler green of the grass. The atmosphere beneath is

languorous, and is so tinged with azure that what artists call the middle distance partakes also of that hue,

while the horizon beyond is of the deepest ultramarine. Arable lands are few and limited; with but slight

exceptions the prospect is a broad rich mass of grass and trees, mantling minor hills and dales within the

The district is of historic, no less than of topographical interest. The Vale was known in former times as the

Forest of White Hart, from a curious legend of King Henry III's reign, in which the killing by a certain

Thomas de la Lynd of a beautiful white hart which the king had run down and spared, was made the occasion

of a heavy fine. In those days, and till comparatively recent times, the country was densely wooded. Even

now, traces of its earlier condition are to be found in the old oak copses and irregular belts of timber that yet

survive upon its slopes, and the hollowtrunked trees that shade so many of its pastures.

The forests have departed, but some old customs of their shades remain. Many, however, linger only in a

metamorphosed or disguised form. The MayDay dance, for instance, was to be discerned on the afternoon

under notice, in the guise of the club revel, or "clubwalking," as it was there called.

It was an interesting event to the younger inhabitants of Marlott, though its real interest was not observed by

the participators in the ceremony. Its singularity lay less in the retention of a custom of walking in procession

and dancing on each anniversary than in the members being solely women. In men's clubs such celebrations

were, though expiring, less uncommon; but either the natural shyness of the softer sex, or a sarcastic attitude

on the part of male relatives, had denuded such women's clubs as remained (if any other did) or this their

glory and consummation. The club of Marlott alone lived to uphold the local Cerealia. It had walked for

hundreds of years, if not as benefitclub, as votive sisterhood of some sort; and it walked still.

The banded ones were all dressed in white gownsa gay survival from Old Style days, when cheerfulness

and Maytime were synonymsdays before the habit of taking long views had reduced emotions to a

monotonous average. Their first exhibition of themselves was in a processional march of two and two round

the parish. Ideal and real clashed slightly as the sun lit up their figures against the green hedges and

creeperlaced housefronts; for, though the whole troop wore white garments, no two whites were alike

among them. Some approached pure blanching; some had a bluish pallor; some worn by the older characters

(which had possibly lain by folded for many a year) inclined to a cadaverous tint, and to a Georgian style.

In addition to the distinction of a white frock, every woman and girl carried in her right hand a peeled willow

wand, and in her left a bunch of white flowers. The peeling of the former, and the selection of the latter, had

There were a few middleaged and even elderly women in the train, their silverwiry hair and wrinkled

faces, scourged by time and trouble, having almost a grotesque, certainly a pathetic, appearance in such a

jaunty situation. In a true view, perhaps, there was more to be gathered and told of each anxious and

experienced one, to whom the years were drawing nigh when she should say, "I have no pleasure in them,"

than of her juvenile comrades. But let the elder be passed over here for those under whose bodices the life

The young girls formed, indeed, the majority of the band,and their heads of luxuriant hair reflected in the

sunshine every tone of gold, and black, and brown. Some had beautiful eyes, others a beautiful nose, others a

beautiful mouth and figure: few, if any, had all. A difficulty of arranging their lips in this crude exposure to

public scrutiny, an inability to balance their heads, and to dissociate selfconsciousness from their features,

was apparent in them, and showed that they were genuine country girls, unaccustomed to many eyes.

And as each and all of them were warmed without by the sun, so each had a private little sun for her soul to

bask in; some dream, some affection, some hobby, at least some remote and distant hope which, though

perhaps starving to nothing, still lived on, as hopes will. They they were all cheerful, and many of them

They came round by The Pure Drop Inn, and were turning out of the high road to pass through a wicketgate

"The LoadaLord! Why, Tess Durbeyfield, if there isn't thy father riding hwome in a carriage!"

A young member of the band turned her head at the exclamation. She was a fine and handsome girlnot

handsomer than some others, possiblybut her mobile peony mouth and large innocent eyes added

eloquence to colour and shape. She wore a red ribbon in her hair, and was the only one of the white company

who could boast of such a pronounced adornment. As she looked round Durbeyfield was seen moving along

the road in a chaise belonging to the The Pure Drop, driven by a frizzleheaded brawny damsel with her

gownsleeves rolled above her elbows. This was the cheerful servant of that establishment, who, in her part

of factotum, turned groom and ostler at times. Durbeyfield, leaning back, and with his eyes closed

luxuriously, was waving his hand above his head, and singing in a slow recitative

The clubbists tittered, except the girl called Tess in whom a slow heat seemed to rise at the sense that her

"He's tired, that's all," she said hastily, "and he has got a lift home, because our own horse has to rest today."

"Bless thy simplicity, Tess," said her companions. "He's got his marketnitch. Hawhaw!"

"Look here; I won't walk another inch with you, if you say any jokes about him!" Tess cried, and the colour

upon her cheeks spread over her face and neck. In a moment her eyes grew moist, and her glance drooped to

the ground. Perceiving that they had really pained her they said no more, and order again prevailed. Tess's

pride would not allow her to turn her head again, to learn what her father's meaning was, if he had any; and

thus she moved on with the whole body to the enclosure where there was to be dancing on the green. By the

time the spot was reached she has recovered her equanimity, and tapped her neighbour with her wand and

Tess Durbeyfield at this time of her life was a mere vessel of emotion untinctured by experience. The dialect

was on her tongue to some extent, despite the village school: the characteristic intonation of that dialect for

this district being the voicing approximately rendered by the syllable UR, probably as rich an utterance as any

to be found in human speech. The poutedup deep red mouth to which this syllable was native had hardly as

yet settled into its definite shape, and her lower lip had a way of thrusting the middle of her top one upward,

Phases of her childhood lurked in her aspect still. As she walked along today, for all her bouncing handsome

womanliness, you could sometimes see her twelfth year in her cheeks, or her ninth sparkling from her eyes;

Yet few knew, and still fewer considered this. A small minority, mainly strangers, would look long at her in

casually passing by, and grow momentarily fascinated by her freshness, and wonder if they would ever see

her again: but to almost everybody she was a fine and picturesque country girl, and no more.

Nothing was seen or heard further of Durbeyfield in his triumphal chariot under the conduct of the ostleress,

and the club having entered the allotted space, dancing began. As there were no men in the company the girls

danced at first with each other, but when the hour for the close of labour drew on, the masculine inhabitants

of the village, together with other idlers and pedestrians, gathered round the spot, and appeared inclined to

Among these onlookers were three young men of a superior class, carrying small knapsacks strapped to

their shoulders, and stout sticks in their hands. Their general likeness to each other, and their consecutive

ages, would almost have suggested that they might be, what in fact they were, brothers. The eldest wore the

white tie, high waistcoat, and thinbrimmed hat of the regulation curate; the second was the normal

undergraduate; the appearance of the third and youngest would hardly have been sufficient to characterize

him; there was an uncribbed, uncabined aspect in his eyes and attire, implying that he had hardly as yet found

the entrance to his professional groove. That he was a desultory tentative student of something and everything

These three brethren told casual acquaintance that they were spending their Whitsun holidays in a walking

tour through the Vale of Blackmoor, their course being southwesterly from the town of Shaston on the

northeast. dh They leant over the gate by the highway, and inquired as to the meaning of the dance and the

whitefrocked maids. The two elder of the brothers were plainly not intending to linger more than a moment,

but the spectacle of a bevy of girls dancing without male partners seemed to amuse the third, and make him in

no hurry to move on. He unstrapped his knapsack, put it, with his stick, on the hedgebank, and opened the

"I am inclined to go and have a fling with them. Why not all of usjust for a minute or twoit will not

"Nono; nonsense!" said the first. "Dancing in public with a troop of country hoydenssuppose we should

be seen! Come along, or it will be dark before we get to Stourcastle, and there's no place we can sleep at

nearer than that; besides, we must get through another chapter of A COUNTERBLAST TO AGNOSTICISM

"All rightI'll overtake you and Cuthbert in five minutes; don't stop; I give my word that I will, Felix."

The two elder reluctantly left him and walked on, taking their brother's knapsack to relieve him in following,

"This is a thousand pities," he said gallantly, to two or three of the girls nearest him, as soon as there was a

"They've not left off work yet," answered one of the boldest. "They'll be here by and by. Till then, will you be

"Better than none. 'Tis melancholy work facing and footing it to one of your own sort, and no clipsing and

The young man, thus invited, clanged them over, and attempted some discrimination; but, as the group were

all so new to him, he could not very well exercise it. He took almost the first that came to hand, which was

not the speaker, as she had expected; nor did it happen to be Tess Durbeyfield. Pedigree, ancestral skeletons,

monumental record, the d'Urberville lineaments, did not help Tess in her life's battle as yet, even to the extent

of attracting to her a dancingpartner over the heads of the commonest peasantry. So much for Norman blood

The name of the eclipsing girl, whatever it was, has not been handed down; but she was envied by all as the

first who enjoyed the luxury of a masculine partner that evening. Yet such was the force of example that the

village young men, who had not hastened to enter the gate while no intruder was in the way, now dropped in

quickly, and soon the couples became leavened with rustic youth to a marked extent, till at length the plainest

woman in the club was no longer compelled to foot it on the masculine side of the figure.

The church clock struck, when suddenly the student said that he must leavehe had been forgetting

himself he had to join his companions. As he fell out of the dance his eyes lighted on Tess Durbeyfield,

whose own large orbs wore, to tell the truth, the faintest aspect of reproach that he had not chosen her. He,

too, was sorry then that, owing to her backwardness, he had not observed her; and with that in his mind he

On account of his long delay he started in a flyingrun down the lane westward, and had soon passed the

hollow and mounted the next rise. He had not yet overtaken his brothers, but he paused to get breath, and

looked back. He could see the white figures of the girls in the green enclosure whirling about as they had

whirled when he was among them. They seemed to have quite forgotten him already.

All of them, except, perhaps, one. This white shape stood apart by the hedge alone. From her position he

knew it to be the pretty maiden with whom he had not danced. Trifling as the matter was, he yet instinctively

felt that she was hurt by his oversight. He wished that he had asked her; he wished that he had inquired her

name. She was so modest, so expressive, she had looked so soft in her thin white gown that he felt he had

However, it could not be helped, and turning, and bending himself to a rapid walk, he dismissed the subject

As for Tess Durbeyfield, she did not so easily dislodge the incident from her consideration. She had no spirit

to dance again for a long time, though she might have had plenty of partners; but ah! they did not speak so

nicely as the strange young man had done. It was not till the rays of the sun had absorbed the young stranger's

retreating figure on the hill that she shook off her temporary sadness and answered her wouldbe partner in

She remained with her comrades till dusk, and participated with a certain zest in the dancing; though, being

heartwhole as yet, she enjoyed treading a measure purely for its own sake; little divining when she saw "the

soft torments, the bitter sweets, the pleasing pains, and the agreeable distresses" of those girls who had been

wooed and won, what she herself was capable of in that kind. The struggles and wrangles of the lads for her

hand in a jig were an amusement to herno more; and when they became fierce she rebuked them.

She might have stayed even later, but the incident of her father's odd appearance and manner returned upon

the girl's mind to make her anxious, and wondering what had become of him she dropped away from the

dancers and bent her steps towards the end of the village at which the parental cottage lay.

While yet many score yards off, other rhythmic sounds than those she had quitted became audible to her;

sounds that she knew wellso well. They were a regular series of thumpings from the interior of the house,

occasioned by the violent rocking of a cradle upon a stone floor, to which movement a feminine voice kept

time by singing, in a vigorous gallopade, the favourite ditty of "The Spotted Cow"

I saw her lie do'own in yon'der green gro'ove; Come, love!' and I'll tell' you where!'

The cradlerocking and the song would cease simultaneously for a moment, and an explanation at highest

"God bless thy diment eyes! And thy waxen cheeks! And thy cherry mouth! And thy Cubit's thighs! And

After this invocation the rocking and the singing would recommence, and the "Spotted Cow" proceed as

before. So matters stood when Tess opened the door, and paused upon the mat within it surveying the scene.

The interior, in spite of the melody, struck upon the girl's senses with an unspeakable dreariness. From the

holiday gaieties of the fieldthe white gowns, the nosegays, the willowwands, the whirling movements on

the green, the flash of gentle sentiment towards the strangerto the yellow melancholy of this onecandled

spectacle, what a step! Besides the jar of contrast there came to her a chill selfreproach that she had not

returned sooner, to help her mother in these domesticities, instead of indulging herself outofdoors.

There stood her mother amid the group of children, as Tess had left her, hanging over the Monday

washingtub, which had now, as always, lingered on to the end of the week. Out of that tub had come the day

beforeTess felt it with a dreadful sting of remorsethe very white frock upon her back which she had so

carelessly greened about the skirt on the damping grasswhich had been wrung up and ironed by her

As usual, Mrs Durbeyfield was balanced on one foot beside the tub, the other being engaged in the aforesaid

business of rocking her youngest child. The cradlerockers had done hard duty for so many years, under the

weight of so many children, on that flagstone floor, that they were worn nearly flat, in consequence of which

a huge jerk accompanied each swing of the cot, flinging the baby from side to side like a weaver's shuttle, as

Mrs Durbeyfield, excited by her song, trod the rocker with all the spring that was left in her after a long day's

Nickknock, nickknock, went the cradle; the candleflame stretched itself tall, and began jigging up and

down; the water dribbled from the matron's elbows, and the song galloped on to the end of the verse, Mrs

Durbeyfield regarding her daughter the while. Even now, when burdened with a young family, Joan

Durbeyfield was a passionate lover of tune. No ditty floated into Blackmoor Vale from the outer world but

There still faintly beamed from the woman's features something of the freshness, and even the prettiness, of

her youth; rendering it probable that the personal charms which Tess could boast of were in main part her

"I'll rock the cradle for 'ee, mother," said the daughter gently. "Or I'll take off my best frock and help you

Her mother bore Tess no illwill for leaving the housework to her singlehanded efforts for so long; indeed,

Joan seldom upbraided her thereon at any time, feeling but slightly the lack of Tess's assistance whilst her

instinctive plan for relieving herself of her labours lay in postponing them. Tonight, however, she was even in

a blither mood than usual. There was a dreaminess, a preoccupation, an exaltation, in the maternal look

"Well, I'm glad you've come," her mother said, as soon as the last note had passed out of her, "I want to go

and fetch your father; but what's more'n that, I want to tell 'ee what have happened. Y'll be fess enough, my

poppet, when th'st know!" (Mrs Durbeyfield habitually spoke the dialect; her daughter, who had passed the

Sixth Standard in the National School under a Londontrained mistress, spoke two languages: the dialect at

"Had it anything to do with father's making such a mommet of himself in thik carriage this afternoon? Why

"That wer all a part of the larry! We've been found to be the greatest gentlefolk in the whole

countyreaching all back long before Oliver Grumble's timeto the days of the Pagan Turkswith

monuments, and vaults, and crests, and "scutcheons, and the Lord knows what all. In Saint Charles's days we

was made Knights o' the Royal Oak, our real name being d'Urberville! ... Don't that make your bosom plim?

'Twas on this account that your father rode home in the vlee; not because he'd been drinking, as people

"O yes! 'Tis thoughted that great things may come o't. No doubt a mampus of volk of our own rank will be

down here in their carriages as soon as 'tis known. Your father learnt it on his way hwome from Shaston, and

Her mother gave irrelevant information by way of answer: "He called to see the doctor today in Shaston. It is

not consumption at all, it seems. It is fat round his heart, 'a says. There, it is like this." Joan Durbeyfield, as

she spoke, curved a sodden thumb and forefinger to the shape of the letter C, and used the other forefinger as

a pointer, "'At the present moment,' he says to your father, 'your heart is enclosed all round there, and all

round there; this space is still open,' 'a says. 'As soon as it do meet, so,'"Mrs Durbeyfield closed her fingers

into a circle complete"'off you will go like a shadder, Mr Durbeyfield,' 'a says. 'You mid last ten years; you

Tess looked alarmed. Her father possibly to go behind the eternal cloud so soon, notwithstanding this sudden

Her mother put on a deprecating look. "Now don't you be bursting out angry! The poor manhe felt so

rafted after his uplifting by the pa'son's newsthat he went up to Rolliver's half an hour ago. He do want to

get up his strength for his journey tomorrow with that load of beehives, which must be delivered, family or

no. He'll have to start shortly after twelve tonight, as the distance is so long."

"Get up his strength!" said Tess impetuously, the tears welling to her eyes. "O my God! Go to a publichouse

Her rebuke and her mood seemed to fill the whole room, and to impart a cowed look to the furniture, and

"No," said the latter touchily, "I be not agreed. I have been waiting for 'ee to bide and keep house while I go

Tess did not expostulate. She knew what her mother's objection meant. Mrs Durbeyfield's jacket and bonnet

were already hanging slily upon a chair by her side, in readiness for this contemplated jaunt, the reason for

"And take the COMPLEAT FORTUNETELLER to the outhouse," Joan continued, rapidly wiping her

The COMPLEAT FORTUNETELLER was an old thick volume, which lay on a table at her elbow, so worn

by pocketing that the margins had reached the edge of the type. Tess took it up, and her mother started.

This going to hunt up her shiftless husband at the inn was one of Mrs Durbeyfield's still extant enjoyments in

the muck and muddle of rearing children. To discover him at Rolliver's, to sit there for an hour or two by his

side and dismiss all thought and care of the children during the interval, made her happy. A sort of halo, an

occidental glow, came over life then. Troubles and other realities took on themselves a metaphysical

impalpability, sinking to mere mental phenomena for serene contemplation, and no longer stood as pressing

concretions which chafed body and soul. The youngsters, not immediately within sight, seemed rather bright

and desirable appurtenances than otherwise; the incidents of daily life were not without humorousness and

jollity in their aspect there. She felt a little as she had used to feel when she sat by her now wedded husband

in the same spot during his wooing, shutting her eyes to his defects of character, and regarding him only in

Tess, being left alone with the younger children, went first to the outhouse with the fortunetelling book, and

stuffed it into the thatch. A curious fetichistic fear of this grimy volume on the part of her mother prevented

her ever allowing it to stay in the house all night, and hither it was brought back whenever it had been

consulted. Between the mother, with her fastperishing lumber of superstitions, folklore, dialect, and orally

transmitted ballads, and the daughter, with her trained National teachings and Standard knowledge under an

infinitely Revised Code, there was a gap of two hundred years as ordinarily understood. When they were

Returning along the garden path Tess mused on what the mother could have wished to ascertain from the

book on this particular day. She guessed the recent ancestral discovery to bear upon it, but did not divine that

it solely concerned herself. Dismissing this, however, she busied herself with sprinkling the linen dried

during the daytime, in company with her nineyearold brother Abraham, and her sister ElizaLouisa of

twelve and a half, call "'LizaLu," the youngest ones being put to bed. There was an interval of four years

and more between Tess and the next of the family, the two who had filled the gap having died in their

infancy, and this lent her a deputymaternal attitude when she was alone with her juniors. Next in juvenility

to Abraham came two more girls, Hope and Modesty; then a boy of three, and then the baby, who had just

All these young souls were passengers in the Durbeyfield shipentirely dependent on the judgement of the

two Durbeyfield adults for their pleasures, their necessities, their health, even their existence. If the heads of

the Durbeyfield household chose to sail into difficulty, disaster, starvation, disease, degradation, death, thither

were these halfdozen little captives under hatches compelled to sail with themsix helpless creatures, who

had never been asked if they wished for life on any terms, much less if they wished for it on such hard

conditions as were involved in being of the shiftless house of Durbeyfield. Some people would like to know

whence the poet whose philosophy is in these days deemed as profound and trustworthy as his song is breezy

It grew later, and neither father nor mother reappeared. Tess looked out of the door, and took a mental

journey through Marlott. The village was shutting its eyes. Candles and lamps were being put out

Her mother's fetching simply meant one more to fetch. Tess began to perceive that a man in indifferent

health, who proposed to start on a journey before one in the morning, ought not to be at an inn at this late

"Abraham," she said to her little brother, "do you put on your hatyou bain't afraid?and go up to

The boy jumped promptly from his seat, and opened the door, and the night swallowed him up. Half an hour

passed yet again; neither man, woman, nor child returned. Abraham, like his parents, seemed to have been

'LizaLu then went to bed, and Tess, locking them all in, started on her way up the dark and crooked lane or

street not made for hasty progress; a street laid out before inches of land had value, and when onehanded

Rolliver's inn, the single alehouse at this end of the long and broken village, could only boast of an

offlicence; hence, as nobody could legally drink on the premises, the amount of overt accommodation for

consumers was strictly limited to a little board about six inches wide and two yards long, fixed to the garden

palings by pieces of wire, so as to form a ledge. On this board thirsty strangers deposited their cups as they

stood in the road and drank, and threw the dregs on the dusty ground to the pattern of Polynesia, and wished

Thus the strangers. But there were also local customers who felt the same wish; and where there's a will

In a large bedroom upstairs, the window of which was thickly curtained with a great woollen shawl lately

discarded by the landlady Mrs Rolliver, were gathered on this evening nearly a dozen persons, all seeking

beatitude; all old inhabitants of the nearer end of Marlott, and frequenters of this retreat. Not only did the

distance to the The Pure Drop, the fullylicensed tavern at the further part of the dispersed village, render its

accommodation practically unavailable for dwellers at this end; but the far more serious question, the quality

of the liquor, confirmed the prevalent opinion that it was better to drink with Rolliver in a corner of the

A gaunt fourpost bedstead which stood in the room afforded sittingspace for several persons gathered

round three of its sides; a couple more men had elevated themselves on a chest of drawers; another rested on

the oakcarved "cwoffer"; two on the washstand; another on the stool; and thus all were, somehow, seated

at their ease. The stage of mental comfort to which they had arrived at this hour was one wherein their souls

expanded beyond their skins, and spread their personalities warmly through the room. In this process the

chamber and its furniture grew more and more dignified and luxurious; the shawl hanging at the window took

upon itself the richness of tapestry; the brass handles of the chest of drawers were as golden knockers; and the

carved bedposts seemed to have some kinship with the magnificent pillars of Solomon's temple.

Mrs Durbeyfield, having quickly walked hitherward after parting from Tess, opened the front door, crossed

the downstairs room, which was in deep gloom, and then unfastened the stairdoor like one whose fingers

knew the tricks of the latches well. Her ascent of the crooked staircase was a slower process, and her face, as

it rose into the light above the last stair, encountered the gaze of all the party assembled in the bedroom.

"Being a few private friends I've asked in to keep up clubwalking at my own expense," the landlady

exclaimed at the sound of footsteps, as glibly as a child repeating the Catechism, while she peered over the

stairs. "Oh, 'tis you, Mrs DurbeyfieldLardhow you frightened me!I thought it might be some gaffer

Mrs Durbeyfield was welcomed with glances and nods by the remainder of the conclave, and turned to where

her husband sat. He was humming absently to himself, in a low tone: "I be as good as some folks here and

there! I've got a great family vault at Kingsbere subGreenhill, and finer skillentons than any man in

"I've something to tell 'ee that's come into my head about thata grand projick!" whispered his cheerful

wife. "Here, John, don't 'ee see me?" She nudged him, while he, looking through her as through a

"Hush! Don't 'ee sing so loud, my good man," said the landlady; "in case any member of the Gover'ment

"Ah, that's the secret," said Joan Durbeyfield sagely. "However, 'tis well to be kin to a coach, even if you

don't ride in 'en." She dropped her public voice, and continued in a low tone to her husband: "I've been

thinking since you brought the news that there's a great rich lady out by Trantridge, on the edge o' The Chase,

She repeated the information. "That lady must be our relation," she said. "And my projick is to send Tess to

"There IS a lady of the name, now you mention it," said Durbeyfield. "Pa'son Tringham didn't think of that.

But she's nothing beside wea junior branch of us, no doubt, hailing long since King Norman's day."

While this question was being discussed neither of the pair noticed, in their preoccupation, that little

Abraham had crept into the room, and was awaiting an opportunity of asking them to return.

"She is rich, and she'd be sure to take notice o' the maid," continued Mrs Durbeyfield; "and 'twill be a very

good thing. I don't see why two branches o' one family should not be on visiting terms."

"Yes; and we'll all claim kin!" said Abraham brightly from under the bedstead. "And we'll all go and see her

when Tess has gone to live with her; and we'll ride in her coach and wear black clothes!"

"How do you come here, child? What nonsense be ye talking! Go away, and play on the stairs till father and

mother be ready! ... Well, Tess ought to go to this other member of our family. She'd be sure to win the

ladyTess would; and likely enough 'twould lead to some noble gentleman marrying her. In short, I know

"I tried her fate in the FORTUNETELLER, and it brought out that very thing! ... You should ha' seen how

"I've not asked her. She don't know there is any such ladyrelation yet. But it would certainly put her in the

Though this conversation had been private, sufficient of its import reached the understandings of those

around to suggest to them that the Durbeyfields had weightier concerns to talk of now than common folks

"Tess is a fine figure o' fun, as I said to myself today when I zeed her vamping round parish with the rest,"

observed one of the elderly boozers in an undertone. "But Joan Durbeyfield must mind that she don't get

green malt in floor." It was a local phrase which had a peculiar meaning, and there was no reply.

The conversation became inclusive, and presently other footsteps were heard crossing the room below.

"Being a few private friends asked in tonight to keep up clubwalking at my own expense." The

landlady had rapidly reused the formula she kept on hand for intruders before she recognized that the

Even to her mother's gaze the girl's young features looked sadly out of place amid the alcoholic vapours

which floated here as no unsuitable medium for wrinkled middleage; and hardly was a reproachful flash

from Tess's dark eyes needed to make her father and mother rise from their seats, hastily finish their ale, and

descend the stairs behind her, Mrs Rolliver's caution following their footsteps.

"No noise, please, if ye'll be so good, my dears; or I mid lose my licends, and be summons'd, and I don't

They went home together, Tess holding one arm of her father, and Mrs Durbeyfield the other. He had, in

truth, drunk very littlenot a fourth of the quantity which a systematic tippler could carry to church on a

Sunday afternoon without a hitch in his eastings of genuflections; but the weakness of Sir John's constitution

made mountains of his petty sins in this kind. On reaching the fresh air he was sufficiently unsteady to incline

the row of three at one moment as if they were marching to London, and at another as if they were marching

to Bathwhich produced a comical effect, frequent enough in families on nocturnal homegoings; and, like

most comical effects, not quite so comic after all. The two women valiantly disguised these forced excursions

and countermarches as well as they could from Durbeyfield their cause, and from Abraham, and from

themselves; and so they approached by degrees their own door, the head of the family bursting suddenly into

his former refrain as he drew near, as if to fortify his soul at sight of the smallness of his present residence

"Hushdon't be so silly, Jacky," said his wife. "Yours is not the only family that was of 'count in wold days.

Look at the Anktells, and Horseys, and the Tringhams themselvesgone to seed a'most as much as

youthough you was bigger folks then they, that's true. Thank God, I was never of no family, and have

"Don't you be so sure o' that. From you nater 'tis my belief you've disgraced yourselves more than any o' us,

Tess turned the subject by saying what was far more prominent in her own mind at the moment than thoughts

of her ancestry"I am afraid father won't be able to take the journey with the beehives tomorrow so early."

It was eleven o'clock before the family were all in bed, and two o'clock next morning was the latest hour for

starting with the beehives if they were to be delivered to the retailers in Casterbridge before the Saturday

market began, the way thither lying by bad roads over a distance of between twenty and thirty miles, and the

horse and waggon being of the slowest. At halfpast one Mrs Durbeyfield came into the large bedroom

"The poor man can't go," she said to her eldest daughter, whose great eyes had opened the moment her

Tess sat up in bed, lost in a vague interspace between a dream and this information.

"But somebody must go," she replied. "It is late for the hives already. Swarming will soon be over for the

year; and it we put off taking 'em till next week's market the call for 'em will be past, and they'll be thrown on

Mrs Durbeyfield looked unequal to the emergency. "Some young feller, perhaps, would go? One of them

"O noI wouldn't have it for the world!" declared Tess proudly. "And letting everybody know the

reasonsuch a thing to be ashamed of! I think I could go if Abraham could go with me to kip me company."

Her mother at length agreed to this arrangement. Little Abraham was aroused from his deep sleep in a corner

of the same apartment, and made to put on his clothes while still mentally in the other world. Meanwhile Tess

had hastily dressed herself; and the twain, lighting a lantern, went out to the stable. The rickety little waggon

was already laden, and the girl led out the horse Prince, only a degree less rickety than the vehicle.

The poor creature looked wonderingly round at the night, at the lantern, at their two figures, as if he could not

believe that at that hour, when every living thing was intended to be in shelter and at rest, he was called upon

to go out and labour. They put a stock of candleends into the lantern, hung the latter to the offside of the

load, and directed the horse onward, walking at his shoulder at first during the uphill parts of the way, in

order not to overload an animal of so little vigour. To cheer themselves as well as they could, they made an

artificial morning with the lantern, some bread and butter, and their own conversation, the real morning being

far from come. Abraham, as he more fully awoke (for he had moved in a sort of trance so far), began to talk

of the strange shapes assumed by the various dark objects against the sky; of this tree that looked like a

When they had passed the little town of Stourcastle, dumbly somnolent under its thick brown thatch, they

reached higher ground. Still higher, on their left, the elevation called Bulbarrow or Bealbarrow, wellnigh the

highest in South Wessex, swelled into the sky, engirdled by its earthen trenches. From hereabout the long

road was fairly level for some distance onward. They mounted in front of the waggon, and Abraham grew

"I? Our great relation? We have no such relation. What has put that into your head?"

"I heard 'em talking about it up at Rolliver's when I went to find father. There's a rich lady of our family out

at Trantridge, and mother said that if you claimed kin with the lady, she'd put 'ee in the way of marrying a

His sister became abruptly still, and lapsed into a pondering silence. Abraham talked on, rather for the

pleasure of utterance than for audition, so that his sister's abstraction was of no account. He leant back against

the hives, and with upturned face made observations on the stars, whose cold pulses were beating amid the

black hollows above, in serene dissociation from these two wisps of human life. He asked how far away those

twinklers were, and whether God was on the other side of them. But ever and anon his childish prattle

recurred to what impressed his imagination even more deeply than the wonders of creation. If Tess were

made rich by marrying a gentleman, would she have money enough to buy a spyglass so large that it would

The renewed subject, which seemed to have impregnated the whole family, filled Tess with impatience.

"I don't know; but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbardtree. Most of them

"'Tis very unlucky that we didn't pitch on a sound one, when there were so many more of 'em!"

"Is it like that REALLY, Tess?" said Abraham, turning to her much impressed, on reconsideration of this rare

"Well, father wouldn't have coughed and creeped about as he does, and wouldn't have got too tipsy to go on

this journey; and mother wouldn't have been always washing, and never getting finished."

"And you would have been a rich lady readymade, and not have had to be made rich by marrying a

Left to his reflections Abraham soon grew drowsy. Tess was not skilful in the management of a horse, but she

thought that she could take upon herself the entire conduct of the load for the present, and allow Abraham to

go to sleep if he wished to do so. She made him a sort of nest in front of the hives, in such a manner that he

Prince required but slight attention, lacking energy for superfluous movements of any sort. With no longer a

companion to distract her, Tess fell more deeply into reverie than ever, her back leaning against the hives.

The mute procession past her shoulders of trees and hedges became attached to fantastic scenes outside

reality, and the occasional heave of the wind became the sigh of some immense sad soul, conterminous with

Then, examining the mesh of events in her own life, she seemed to see the vanity of her father's pride; the

gentlemanly suitor awaiting herself in her mother's fancy; to see him as a grimacing personage, laughing at

her poverty, and her shrouded knightly ancestry. Everything grew more and more extravagant, and she no

longer knew how time passed. A sudden jerk shook her in her seat, and Tess awoke from the sleep into which

They were a long way further on than when she had lost consciousness, and the waggon had stopped. A

hollow groan, unlike anything she had ever heard in her life, came from the front, followed by a shout of

The lantern hanging at her waggon had gone out, but another was shining in her facemuch brighter than

her own had been. Something terrible had happened. The harness was entangled with an object which

In consternation Tess jumped down, and discovered the dreadful truth. The groan has proceeded from her

father's poor horse Prince. The morning mailcart, with its two noiseless wheels, speeding along these lanes

like an arrow, as it always did, had driven into her slow and unlighted equipage. The pointed shaft of the cart

had entered the breast of the unhappy Prince like a sword, and from the wound his life's blood was spouting

In her despair Tess sprang forward and put her hand upon the hole, with the only result that she became

splashed from face to skirt with the crimson drops. Then she stood helplessly looking on. Prince also stood

By this time the mailcart man had joined her, and began dragging and unharnessing the hot form of Prince.

But he was already dead, and, seeing that nothing more could be done immediately, the mailcart man

"You was on the wrong side," he said. "I am bound to go on with the mailbags, so that the best thing for you

to do is bide here with your load. I'll send somebody to help you as soon as I can. It is getting daylight, and

He mounted and sped on his way; while Tess stood and waited. The atmosphere turned pale, the birds shook

themselves in the hedges, arose, and twittered; the lane showed all its white features, and Tess showed hers,

still whiter. The huge pool of blood in front of her was already assuming the iridescence of coagulation; and

when the sun rose a hundred prismatic hues were reflected from it. Prince lay alongside still and stark; his

eyes half open, the hole in his chest looking scarcely large enough to have let out all that had animated him.

"'Tis all my doingall mine!" the girl cried, gazing at the spectacle. "No excuse for menone. What will

mother and father live on now? Aby, Aby!" She shook the child, who had slept soundly through the whole

When Abraham realized all, the furrows of fifty years were extemporized on his young face.

"Why, I danced and laughed only yesterday!" she went on to herself. "To think that I was such a fool!"

"'Tis because we be on a blighted star, and not a sound one, isn't it, Tess?" murmured Abraham through his

In silence they waited through an interval which seemed endless. At length a sound, and an approaching

object, proved to them that the driver of the mailcar had been as good as his word. A farmer's man from

near Stourcastle came up, leading a strong cob. He was harnessed to the waggon of beehives in the place of

The evening of the same day saw the empty waggon reach again the spot of the accident. Prince had lain

there in the ditch since the morning; but the place of the bloodpool was still visible in the middle of the

road, though scratched and scraped over by passing vehicles. All that was left of Prince was now hoisted into

the waggon he had formerly hauled, and with his hoofs in the air, and his shoes shining in the setting

Tess had gone back earlier. How to break the news was more than she could think. It was a relief to her

tongue to find from the faces of her parents that they already knew of their loss, though this did not lessen the

But the very shiftlessness of the household rendered the misfortune a less terrifying one to them than it would

have been to a thriving family, though in the present case it meant ruin, and in the other it would only have

meant inconvenience. In the Durbeyfield countenances there was nothing of the red wrath that would have

burnt upon the girl from parents more ambitious for her welfare. Nobody blamed Tess as she blamed herself.

When it was discovered that the knacker and tanner would give only a very few shillings for Prince's carcase

"No," said he stoically, "I won't sell his old body. When we d'Urbervilles was knights in the land, we didn't

sell our chargers for cat's meat. Let 'em keep their shillings. He've served me well in his lifetime, and I won't

He worked harder the next day in digging a grave for Prince in the garden than he had worked for months to

grow a crop for his family. When the hole was ready, Durbeyfield and his wife tied a rope round the horse

and dragged him up the path towards it, the children following in funeral train. Abraham and 'LizaLu

sobbed, Hope and Modest discharged their griefs in loud blares which echoed from the walls; and when

Prince was tumbled in they gathered round the grave. The breadwinner had been taken away from them;

Then Durbeyfield began to shovel in the earth, and the children cried anew. All except Tess. Her face was dry

The haggling business, which had mainly depended on the horse, became disorganized forthwith. Distress, if

not penury, loomed in the distance. Durbeyfield was what was locally called a slacktwisted fellow; he had

good strength to work at times; but the times could not be relied on to coincide with the hours of requirement;

and, having been unaccustomed to the regular toil of the daylabourer, he was not particularly persistent

Tess, meanwhile, as the one who had dragged her parents into this quagmire, was silently wondering what

"We must take the ups wi' the downs, Tess," said she; "and never could your high blood have been found out

at a more calledfor moment. You must try your friends. Do ye know that there is a very rich Mrs

d'Urberville living on the outskirts o' The Chase, who must be our relation? You must go to her and claim

"I shouldn't care to do that," says Tess. "If there is such a lady, 'twould be enough for us if she were

"You could win her round to do anything, my dear. Besides, perhaps there's more in it than you know of. I've

The oppressive sense of the harm she had done led Tess to be more deferential than she might otherwise have

been to the maternal wish; but she could not understand why her mother should find such satisfaction in

contemplating an enterprise of, to her, such doubtful profit. Her mother might have made inquiries, and have

discovered that this Mrs d'Urberville was a lady of unequalled virtues and charity. But Tess's pride made the

"Durbeyfield, you can settle it," said his wife, turning to where he sat in the background. "If you say she

"I don't like my children going and making themselves beholden to strange kin," murmured he. "I'm the head

His reasons for staying away were worse to Tess than her own objections to going. "Well, as I killed the

horse, mother," she said mournfully, "I suppose I ought to do something. I don't mind going and seeing her,

but you must leave it to me about asking for help. And don't go thinking about her making a match for

Rising early next day she walked to the hilltown called Shaston, and there took advantage of a van which

twice in the week ran from Shaston eastward to Chaseborough, passing near Trantridge, the parish in which

Tess Durbeyfield's route on this memorable morning lay amid the northeastern undulations of the Vale in

which she had been born, and in which her life had unfolded. The Vale of Blackmoor was to her the world,

and its inhabitants the races thereof. From the gates and stiles of Marlott she had looked down its length in

the wondering days of infancy, and what had been mystery to her then was not much less than mystery to her

now. She had seen daily from her chamberwindow towers, villages, faint white mansions; above all the

town of Shaston standing majestically on its height; its windows shining like lamps in the evening sun. She

had hardly ever visited the place, only a small tract even of the Vale and its environs being known to her by

close inspection. Much less had she been far outside the valley. Every contour of the surrounding hills was as

personal to her as that of her relatives' faces; but for what lay beyond her judgment was dependent on the

teaching of the village school, where she had held a leading place at the time of her leaving, a year or two

In those early days she had been much loved by others of her own sex and age, and had used to be seen about

the village as one of threeall nearly of the same yearwalking home from school side by side; Tess the

middle onein a pink print pinafore, of a finely reticulated pattern, worn over a stuff frock that had lost its

original colour for a nondescript tertiarymarching on upon long stalky legs, in tight stockings which had

little ladderlike holes at the knees, torn by kneeling in the roads and banks in search of vegetable and

mineral treasures; her then earthcoloured hair handing like pothooks; the arms of the two outside girls

resting round the waist of Tess; her arms on the shoulders of the two supporters.

As Tess grew older, and began to see how matters stood, she felt quite a Malthusian towards her mother for

thoughtlessly giving her so many little sisters and brothers, when it was such a trouble to nurse and provide

for them. Her mother's intelligence was that of a happy child: Joan Durbeyfield was simply an additional one,

and that not the eldest, to her own long family of waiters on Providence. However, Tess became humanely

beneficent towards the small ones, and to help them as much as possible she used, as soon as she left school,

to lend a hand at haymaking or harvesting on neighbouring farms; or, by preference, at milking or

buttermaking processes, which she had learnt when her father had owned cows; and being deftfingered it

Every day seemed to throw upon her young shoulders more of thefamily burdens, and that Tess should be the

representative of the Durbeyfields at the d'Urberville mansion came as a thing of course. In this instance it

She alighted from the van at Trantridge Cross, and ascended on foot a hill in the direction of the district

known as The Chase, on the borders of which, as she had been informed, Mrs d'Urberville's seat, The Slopes,

would be found. It was not a manorial home in the ordinary sense, with fields, and pastures, and a grumbling

farmer, out of whom the owner had to squeeze an income for himself and his family by hook or by crook. It

was more, far more; a countryhouse built for enjoyment pure and simple, with not an acre of troublesome

land attached to it beyond what was required for residential purposes, and for a little fancy farm kept in hand

The crimson brick lodge came first in sight, up to its eaves in dense evergreens. Tess thought this was the

mansion itself till, passing through the side wicket with some trepidation, and onward to a point at which the

drive took a turn, the house proper stood in full view. It was of recent erectionindeed almost newand of

the same rich red colour that formed such a contrast with the evergreens of the lodge. Far behind the corner of

the housewhich rose like a geranium bloom against the subdued colours aroundstretched the soft azure

landscape of The Chasea truly venerable tract of forest land, one of the few remaining woodlands in

England of undoubted primaeval date, wherein Druidical mistletoe was still found on aged oaks, and where

enormous yewtrees, not planted by the hand of man grew as they had grown when they were pollarded for

bows. All this sylvan antiquity, however, though visible from The Slopes, was outside the immediate

Everything on this snug property was bright, thriving, and well kept; acres of glasshouses stretched down

the inclines to the copses at their feet. Everything looked like moneylike the last coin issued from the Mint.

The stables, partly screened by Austrian pines and evergreen oaks, and fitted with every late appliance, were

as dignified as ChapelsofEase. On the extensive lawn stood an ornamental tent, its door being towards her.

Simple Tess Durbeyfield stood at gaze, in a halfalarmed attitude, on the edge of the gravel sweep. Her feet

had brought her onward to this point before she had quite realized where she was; and now all was contrary

"I thought we were an old family; but this is all new!" she said, in her artlessness. She wished that she had not

fallen in so readily with her mother's plans for "claiming kin," and had endeavoured to gain assistance nearer

The d'Urbervillesor Stoked'Urbervilles, as they at first called themselveswho owned all this, were a

somewhat unusual family to find in such an oldfashioned part of the country. Parson Tringham had spoken

truly when he said that our shambling John Durbeyfield was the only really lineal representative of the old

d'Urbervillefamily existing in the county, or near it; he might have added, what he knew very well, that the

Stoked'Urbervilles were no more d'Urbervilles of the true tree then he was himself. Yet it must be admitted

that this family formed a very good stock whereon to regraft a name which sadly wanted such renovation.

When old Mr Simon Stoke, latterly deceased, had made his fortune as an honest merchant (some said

moneylender) in the North, he decided to settle as a county man in the South of England, out of hail of his

business district; and in doing this he felt the necessity of recommencing with a name that would not too

readily identify him with the smart tradesman of the past, and that would be less commonplace than the

original bald stark words. Conning for an hour in the British Museum the pages of works devoted to extinct,

halfextinct, obscured, and ruined families appertaining to the quarter of England in which he proposed to

settle, he considered that D'URBERVILLE looked and sounded as well as any of them: and d'Urberville

accordingly was annexed to his own name for himself and his heirs eternally. Yet he was not an

extravagantminded man in this, and in constructing his family tree on the new basis was duly reasonable in

framing his intermarriages and aristocratic links, never inserting a single title above a rank of strict

Of this work of imagination poor Tess and her parents were naturally in ignorancemuch to their

discomfiture; indeed, the very possibility of such annexations was unknown to them; who supposed that,

though to be wellfavoured might be the gift of fortune, a family name came by nature.

Tess still stood hesitating like a bather about to make his plunge, hardly knowing whether to retreat or to

persevere, when a figure came forth from the dark triangular door of the tent. It was that of a tall young man,

He had an almost swarthy complexion, with full lips, badly moulded, though red and smooth, above which

was a wellgroomed black moustache with curled points, though his age could not be more than threeor

fourandtwenty. Despite the touches of barbarism in his contours, there was a singular force in the

"Well, my Beauty, what can I do for you?" said he, coming forward. And perceiving that she stood quite

confounded: "Never mind me. I am Mr d'Urberville. Have you come to see me or my mother?"

This embodiment of a d'Urberville and a namesake differed even more from what Tess had expected than the

house and grounds had differed. She had dreamed of an aged and dignified face, the sublimation of all the

d'Urberville lineaments, furrowed with incarnate memories representing in hieroglyphic the centuries of her

family's and England's history. But she screwed herself up to the work in hand, since she could not get out of

"I am afraid you cannot see hershe is an invalid," replied thepresent representative of the spurious house;

for this was Mr Alec, the only son of the lately deceased gentleman. "Cannot I answer your purpose? What is

Tess's sense of a certain ludicrousness in her errand was now so strong that, notwithstanding her awe of him,

and her general discomfort at being here, her rosy lips curved towards a smile, much to the attraction of the

"Mother asked me to come," Tess continued; "and, indeed, I was in the mind to do so myself likewise. But I

did not think it would be like this. I came, sir, to tell you that we are of the same family as you."

"Our names are worn away to Durbeyfield; but we have several proofs that we are d'Urbervilles. Antiquarians

hold we are,andand we have an old seal, marked with a ramping lion on a shield, and a castle over him.

And we have a very old silver spoon, round in the bowl like a little ladle, and marked with the same castle.

"A castle argent is certainly my crest," said he blandly. "And my arms a lion rampant."

"And so mother said we ought to make ourselves beknown to youas we've lost our horse by a bad accident,

"Very kind of your mother, I'm sure. And I, for one, don't regret her step." Alec looked at Tess as he spoke, in

a way that made her blush a little. "And so, my pretty girl, you've come on a friendly visit to us, as relations?"

She gave him brief particulars; and responding to further inquiries told him that she was intending to go back

"It is a long while before he returns past Trantridge Cross. Supposing we walk round the grounds to pass the

Tess wished to abridge her visit as much as possible; but the young man was pressing, and she consented to

accompany him. He conducted her about the lawns, and flowerbeds, and conservatories; and thence to the

"They are already here." D'Urberville began gathering specimens of the fruit for her, handing them back to

her as he stooped; and, presently, selecting a specially fine product of the "British Queen" variety, he stood

"Nono!" she said quickly, putting her fingers between his hand and her lips. "I would rather take it in my

"Nonsense!" he insisted; and in a slight distress she parted her lips and took it in.

They had spent some time wandering desultorily thus, Tess eating in a halfpleased, halfreluctant state

whatever d'Urberville offered her. When she could consume no more of the strawberries he filled her little

basket with them; and then the two passed round to the rose trees, whence he gathered blossoms and gave her

to put in her bosom. She obeyed like one in a dream, and when she could affix no more he himself tucked a

bud or two into her hat, and heaped her basket with others in the prodigality of his bounty. At last, looking at

his watch, he said, "Now, by the time you have had something to eat, it will be time for you to leave, if you

want to catch the carrier to Shaston. Come here, and I'll see what grub I can find."

Stoke d'Urberville took her back to the lawn and into the tent, where he left her, soon reappearing with a

basket of light luncheon, which he put before her himself. It was evidently the gentleman's wish not to be

He watched her pretty and unconscious munching through the skeins of smoke that pervaded the tent, and

Tess Durbeyfield did not divine, as she innocently looked down at the roses in her bosom, that there behind

the blue narcotic haze was potentially the "tragic mischief" of her dramaone who stood fair to be the

bloodred ray in the spectrum of her young life. She had an attribute which amounted to a disadvantage just

now; and it was this that caused Alec d'Urberville's eyes to rivet themselves upon her. It was a luxuriance of

aspect, a fulness of growth, which made her appear more of a woman than she really was. She had inherited

the feature from her mother without the quality it denoted. It had troubled her mind occasionally, till her

"And what do they call you?" he asked, as he accompanied her along the drive till they were out of sight of

"Ikilled him!" she answered, her eyes filling with tears as she gave particulars of Prince's death. "And I

"I must think if I cannot do something. My mother must find a berth for you. But, Tess, no nonsense about

For a momentonly for a momentwhen they were in the turning of the drive, between the tall

rhododendrons and conifers, before the lodge became visible, he inclined his face towards her as ifbut, no:

Thus the thing began. Had she perceived this meeting's import she might have asked why she was doomed to

be seen and coveted that day by the wrong man, and not by some other man, the right and desired one in all

respectsas nearly as humanity can supply the right and desired; yet to him who amongst her acquaintance

might have approximated to this kind, she was but a transient impression, half forgotten.

In the illjudged execution of the welljudged plan of things the call seldom produces the comer, the man to

love rarely coincides with the hour for loving. Nature does not often say "See!" to her poor creature at a time

when seeing can lead to happy doing; or reply "Here!" to a body's cry of "Where?" till the hideandseek has

become an irksome, outworn game. We may wonder whether at the acme and summit of the human progress

these anachronisms will be corrected by a finer intuition, a close interaction of the social machinery than that

which now jolts us round and along; but such completeness is not to be prophesied, or even conceived as

possible. Enough that in the present case, as in millions, it was not the two halves of a perfect whole that

confronted each other at the perfect moment; a missing counterpart wandered independently about the earth

waiting in crass obtuseness till the late time came. Out of which maladroit delay sprang

When d'Urberville got back to the tent he sat down astride on a chair reflecting, with a pleased gleam in his

Tess went down the hill to Trantridge Cross, and inattentively waited to take her seat in the van returning

from Chaseborough to Shaston. She did not know what the other occupants said to her as she entered, though

she answered them; and when they had started anew she rode along with an inward and not an outward eye.

One among her fellowtravellers addressed her more pointedly than any had spoken before: "Why, you be

Then she became aware of the spectacle she presented to their surprised vision: roses at her breasts; roses in

her hat; roses and strawberries in her basket to the brim. She blushed, and said confusedly that the flowers

had been given to her. When the passengers were not looking she stealthily removed the more prominent

blooms from her hat and placed them in basket, where she covered them with her handkerchief. Then she fell

to reflecting again, and in looking downwards a thorn of the rose remaining in her breast accidentally pricked

her chin. Like all the cottagers in Blackmoor Vale, Tess was steeped in fancies and prefigurative

The van travelled only so far as Shaston, and there were several miles of pedestrian descent from that

mountaintown into the vale of Marlott. Her mother had advised her to stay here for the night, at the house of

a cottagewoman they knew, if she should feel too tired to come on; and this Tess did, not descending to her

When she entered the house she perceived in a moment from her mother's triumphant manner that something

"Oh yes; I know all about it! I told 'ee it would be all right, and now 'tis proved!"

Her mother surveyed the girl up and down with arch approval, and went on banteringly: "So you've brought

"They sayMrs d'Urberville saysthat she wants you to look after a little fowlfarm which is her hobby.

But this is only her artful way of getting 'ee there without raising your hopes. She's going to own 'ee as

"An' I knew it! Jackyhe called her Coz!" cried Joan to her husband. "Well, he spoke to his mother, of

"Then I don't know who is apt. You've be'n born in the business, and brought up in it. They that be born in a

business always know more about it than any 'prentice. Besides, that's only just a show of something for you

"I don't altogether think I ought to go," said Tess thoughtfully. "Who wrote the letter? Will you let me look at

The letter was in the third person, and briefly informed Mrs Durbeyfield that her daughter's services would be

useful to that lady in the management of her poultryfarm, that a comfortable room would be provided for

her if she could come, and that the wages would be on a liberal scale if they liked her.

"You couldn't expect her to throw her arms round 'ee, an' to kiss and to coll 'ee all at once."

A week afterwards she came in one evening from an unavailing search for some light occupation in the

immediate neighbourhood. Her idea had been to get together sufficient money during the summer to purchase

another horse. Hardly had she crossed the threshold before one of the children danced across the room,

Her mother hastened to explain, smiles breaking from every inch of her person. Mrs d'Urberville's son had

called on horseback, having been riding by chance in the direction of Marlott. He had wished to know,

finally, in the name of his mother, if Tess could really come to manage the old lady's fowlfarm or not; the

lad who had hitherto superintended the birds having proved untrustworthy. "Mr d'Urberville says you must be

a good girl if you are at all as you appear; he knows you must be worth your weight in gold. He is very much

Tess seemed for the moment really pleased to hear that she had won such high opinion from a stranger when,

"It is very good of him to think that," she murmured; "and if I was quite sure how it would be living there, I

"Well, there's your chance, whether or no; and I'm sure he wears a beautiful diamond ring!"

"Yes," said little Abraham, brightly, from the windowbench; "and I seed it! and it did twinkle when he put

his hand up to his mistarshers. Mother, why did our grand relation keep on putting his hand up to his

"Perhaps to show his diamond ring," murmured Sir John, dreamily, from his chair.

"Well, she's made a conquest o' the younger branch of us, straight off," continued the matron to her husband,

"I don't quite like my children going away from home," said the haggler. "As the head of the family, the rest

"But do let her go, Jacky," coaxed his poor witless wife. "He's struck wi' heryou can see that. He called her

Coz! He'll marry her, most likely, and make a lady of her; and then she'll be what her forefathers was."

John Durbeyfield had more conceit than energy or health, and this supposition was pleasant to him.

"Well, perhaps, that's what young Mr d'Urberville means," he admitted; "and sure enough he mid have

serious thoughts about improving his blood by linking on to the old line. Tess, the little rogue! And have she

Meanwhile Tess was walking thoughtfully among the gooseberrybushes in the garden, and over Prince's

"I don't know what to say!" answered the girl restlessly. "It is for you to decide. I killed the old horse, and I

suppose I ought to do something to get ye a new one. ButbutI don't quite like Mr d'Urberville being

The children, who had made use of this idea of Tess being taken up by their wealthy kinsfolk (which they

imagined the other family to be) as a species of dolorifuge after the death of the horse, began to cry at Tess's

"Tess won't gooo and be made a laady of!no, she says she wooon't!" they wailed, with

square mouths. "And we shan't have a nice new horse, and lots o' golden money to buy fairlings! And Tess

Her mother chimed in to the same tune: a certain way she had of making her labours in the house seem

heavier than they were by prolonging them indefinitely, also weighed in the argument. Her father alone

Her mother could not repress her consciousness of the nuptial Vision conjured up by the girl's consent.

"I hope it is a chance for earning money. It is no other kind of chance. You had better say nothing of that silly

sort about parish." Mrs Durbeyfield did not promise. She was not quite sure that she did not feel proud

Thus it was arranged; and the young girl wrote, agreeing to be ready to set out on any day on which she might

be required. She was duly informed that Mrs d'Urberville was glad of her decision, and that a springcart

should be sent to meet her and her luggage at the top of the Vale on the day after the morrow, when she must

hold herself prepared to start. Mrs d'Urberville's handwriting seemed rather masculine.

"A cart?" murmured Joan Durbeyfield doubtingly. "It might have been a carriage for her own kin!"

Having at last taken her course Tess was less restless and abstracted, going about her business with some

selfassurance in the thought of acquiring another horse for her father by an occupation which would not be

onerous. She had hoped to be a teacher at the school, but the fates seemed to decide otherwise. Being

mentally older than her mother she did not regard Mrs Durbeyfield's matrimonial hopes for her in a serious

aspect for a moment. The lightminded woman had been discovering good matches for her daughter almost

On the morning appointed for her departure Tess was awake before dawnat the marginal minute of the

dark when the grove is still mute, save for one prophetic bird who sings with a clearvoiced conviction that

he at least knows the correct time of day, the rest preserving silence as if equally convinced that he is

mistaken. She remained upstairs packing till breakfasttime, and then came down in her ordinary weekday

Her mother expostulated. "You will never set out to see your folks without dressing up more the dand than

"Well, yes," said Mrs Durbeyfield; and in a private tone, "at first there mid be a little pretence o't.... But I

And to please her parent the girl put herself quite in Joan's hands, saying serenely"Do what you like with

Mrs Durbeyfield was only too delighted at this tractability. First she fetched a great basin, and washed Tess's

hair with such thoroughness that when dried and brushed it looked twice as much as at other 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

clubwalking, the airy fulness of which, supplementing 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

"Never mind holes in your stockingsthey don't speak! When I was a maid, so long as I had a pretty bonnet

Her mother's pride in the girl's appearance led her to step back, like a painter from his easel, and survey her

"You must zee yourself!" she cried. "It is much better than you was t'other day."

As the lookingglass was only large enough to reflect a very small portion of Tess's person at one time, Mrs

Durbeyfield hung a black cloak outside the casement, and so made a large reflector of the panes, as it is the

wont of bedecking cottagers to do. After this she went downstairs to her husband, who was sitting in the

"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 usdear, 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 wayas 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 springcart 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 littleways wi' Sissy, now she's going to marry our gentlemancousin, and wear fine

"Now," said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, "I'll hear no more o' that! Mother, how could you ever put

"Going to work, my dears, for our rich relation, and help get enough money for a new horse," said Mrs

"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

"Tell'nI'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

triflestell'n he shall hae it for fiftyfor twenty pound! Yes, twenty poundthat's the lowest. Dammy,

Tess's eyes were too full and her voice too choked to utter the sentiments that were in her. She turned quickly,

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

simplesouled 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 clifflike 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 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 comeappearing 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

They saw her white shape draw near to the springcart, 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 luggagecart, 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 spickandspan gig or dogcart, highly varnished and equipped. The driver was a young man of

threeor fourandtwenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab jacket, breeches of the

same hue, white neckcloth, stickup collar, and brown drivingglovesin 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

"Is dat the gentlemankinsman who'll make Sissy a lady?" asked the youngest child.

Meanwhile the muslined form of Tess could be seen standing still, undecided, beside this turnout, 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,

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

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

"Oh, I don't know exactly," she said. "I was thinking that perhaps it would ha' been better if Tess had not

"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 goodhearted young man and choice over her as his kinswoman."

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

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

D'Urberville looked round upon her, nipped his cigar with the tips of his large white centreteeth, and

"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."

"Ah," he said, shaking his head, "there are two to be reckoned with. It is not me alone. Tib had to be

"Why, this mare. I fancy she looked round at me in a very grim way just then. Didn't you notice it?"

"Well, I don't. If any living man can manage this horse I can: I won't say any living man can do itbut if

"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

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

Down, down, they sped, the wheels humming like a top, the dogcart 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

The wind blew through Tess's white muslin to her very skin, and her washed hair flew out behind. She was

"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

"But when people find themselves on one of the highest points in the county, they must get down again," he

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 stopon my

Tess, surprised beyond measure, slid farther back still on her seat, at which he urged the horse anew, and

"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.

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

"Now, damn itI'll break both our necks!" swore her capriciously passionate companion. "So you can go

"Very well," said Tess, "I'll not more since you be so determined! But Ithought you would be kind to me,

"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.

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

"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."

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.

"You look prettier with it off, upon my soul, if that's possible," he said, contemplating her over the back of

"No, sir," she said, revealing the red and ivory of her mouth as her eye lit in defiant triumph; "not again, if I

"You artful hussy! Now, tell medidn't you make that hat blow off on purpose? I'll swear you did!"

Then d'Urberville cursed and swore at her, and called her everything he could think of for the trick. Turning

the horse suddenly he tried to drive back upon her, and so hem her in between the gig and the hedge. But he

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for using such wicked 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

"Well, I like you all the better," he said. "Come, let there be peace. I'll never do it any more against your will.

Still Tess could not be induced to remount. She did not, however, object to his keeping his gig alongside her;

and in this manner, at a slow pace, they advanced towards the village of Trantridge. From time to time

d'Urberville exhibited a sort of fierce distress at the sight of the tramping he had driven her to undertake by

his misdemeanour. She might in truth have safely trusted him now; but he had forfeited her confidence for the

time, and she kept on the ground progressing thoughtfully, as if wondering whether it would be wiser to

return home. Her resolve, however, had been taken, and it seemed vacillating even to childishness to abandon

it now, unless for graver reasons. How could she face her parents, get back her box, and disconcert the whole

A few minutes later the chimneys of The Slopes appeared in view, and in a snug nook to the right the

The community of fowls to which Tess had been appointed as supervisor, purveyor, nurse, surgeon, and

friend, made its headquarters in an old thatched cottage standing in an enclosure that had once been a garden,

but was now a trampled and sanded square. The house was overrun with ivy, its chimney being enlarged by

the boughs of the parasite to the aspect of a ruined tower. The lower rooms were entirely given over to the

birds, who walked about them with a proprietary air, as though the place had been built by themselves, and

not by certain dusty copyholders who now lay east and west in the churchyard. The descendants of these

bygone owners felt it almost as a slight 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 generations before

the d'Urbervilles came and built here, was indifferently turned into a fowlhouse by Mrs Stoked'Urberville

as soon as the property fell into hand according to law. "'Twas good enough for Christians in grandfather's

The rooms wherein dozens of infants had wailed at their nursing now resounded with the tapping of nascent

chicks. Distracted hens in coops occupied spots where formerly stood chairs supporting sedate agriculturists.

The chimneycorner and once blazing hearth was now filled with inverted beehives, in which the hens laid

their eggs; while out of doors the plots that each succeeding householder had carefully shaped with his spade

The garden in which the cottage stood was surrounded by a wall, and could only be entered through a door.

When Tess had occupied herself about an hour the next morning in altering and improving the arrangements,

according to her skilled ideas as the daughter of a professed poulterer, the door in the wall opened and a

"Mrs d'Urberville wants the fowls as usual," she said; but perceiving that Tess did not quite understand, she

Almost before her misgiving at the news could find time to shape itself she took, under her companion's

direction, two of the most beautiful of the Hamburghs in her arms, and followed the maidservant, who had

likewise taken two, to the adjacent mansion, which, though ornate and imposing, showed traces everywhere

on this side that some occupant of its chambers could bend to the love of dumb creaturesfeathers floating

In a sittingroom on the groundfloor, ensconced in an armchair with her back to the light, was the owner

and mistress of the estate, a whitehaired woman of not more than sixty, or even less, wearing a large cap.

She had the mobile face frequent in those whose sight has decayed by stages, has been laboriously striven

after, and reluctantly let go, rather than the stagnant mien apparent in persons long sightless or born blind.

"Ah, you are the young woman come to look after my birds?" said Mrs d'Urberville, recognizing a new

footstep. "I hope you will be kind to them. My bailiff tells me you are quite the proper person. Well, where

are they? Ah, this is Strut! But he is hardly so lively today, is he? He is alarmed at being handled by a

stranger, I suppose. And Phena tooyes, they are a little frightenedaren't you, dears? But they will soon

While the old lady had been speaking Tess and the other maid, in obedience to her gestures, had placed the

fowls severally in her lap, and she had felt them over from head to tail, examining their beaks, their combs,

the manes of the cocks, their winds, and their claws. Her touch enabled her to recognize them in a moment,

and to discover if a single feather were crippled or draggled. She handled their crops, and knew what they had

eaten, and if too little or too much; her face enacting a vivid pantomime of the criticisms passing in her mind.

The birds that the two girls had brought in were duly returned to the yard, and the process was repeated till all

the pet cocks and hens had been submitted to the old womanHamburghs, Bantams, Cochins, Brahmas,

Dorkings, and such other sorts as were in fashion just thenher perception of each visitor being seldom at

It reminded Tess of a Confirmation, in which Mrs d'Urberville was the bishop, the fowls the young people

presented, and herself and the maidservant the parson and curate of the parish bringing them up. At the end

of the ceremony Mrs d'Urberville abruptly asked Tess, wrinkling and twitching her face into undulations,

Tess could whistle like most other country girls, though the accomplishment was one which she did not care

to profess in genteel company. However, she blandly admitted that such was the fact.

"Then you will have to practise it every day. I had a lad who did it very well, but he has left. I want you to

whistle to my bullfinches; as I cannot see them I like to hear them, and we teach 'em airs that way. Tell her

where the cages are, Elizabeth. You must begin tomorrow, or they will go back in their piping. They have

The old lady's face creased into furrows of repugnance, and she made no further reply.

Thus the reception of Tess by her fancied kinswoman terminated, and the birds were taken back to their

quarters. The girl's surprise at Mrs d'Urberville's manner was not great; for since seeing the size of the house

she had expected no more. But she was far from being aware that the old lady had never heard a word of the

socalled kinship. She gathered that no great affection flowed between the blind woman and her son. But in

that, too, she was mistaken. Mrs d'Urberville was not the first mother compelled to love her offspring

In spite of the unpleasant initiation of the day before, Tess inclined to the freedom and novelty of her new

position in the morning when the sun shone, now that she was once installed there; and she was curious to

test her powers in the unexpected direction asked of her, so as to ascertain her chance of retaining her post.

As soon as she was alone within the walled garden she sat herself down on a coop, and seriously screwed up

her mouth for the longneglected practice. She found her former ability to have generated to the production

She remained fruitlessly blowing and blowing, wondering how she could have so grown out of the art which

had come by nature, till she became aware of a movement among the ivyboughs which cloaked the

gardenwall no less then the cottage. Looking that way she beheld a form springing from the coping to the

plot. It was Alec d'Urberville, whom she had not set eyes on since he had conducted her the day before to the

"Upon my honour!" cried he, "there was never before such a beautiful thing in Nature or Art as you look,

'Cousin' Tess ('Cousin' had a faint ring of mockery). I have been watching you from over the wallsitting

like IMpatience on a monument, and pouting up that pretty red mouth to whistling shape, and whooing and

whooing, and privately swearing, and never being able to produce a note. Why, you are quite cross because

"Ah! I understand why you are tryingthose bullies! My mother wants you to carry on their musical

education. How selfish of her! As if attending to these curst cocks and hens here were not enough work for

"Nonsense; I don't want to touch you. SeeI'll stand on this side of the wirenetting, and you can keep on

the other; so you may feel quite safe. Now, look here; you screw up your lips too harshly. There 'tisso."

He suited the action to the word, and whistled a line of "Take, O take those lips away." But the allusion was

She attempted to look reserved; her face put on a sculptural severity. But he persisted in his demand, and at

last, to get rid of him, she did put up her lips as directed for producing a clear note; laughing distressfully,

Tess was quite serious, painfully serious by this time; and she triedultimately and unexpectedly emitting a

real round sound. The momentary pleasure of success got the better of her; her eyes enlarged, and she

"That's it! Now I have started youyou'll go on beautifully. ThereI said I would not come near you; and,

in spite of such temptation as never before fell to mortal man, I'll keep my word. ... Tess, do you think my

"You'll find her so; she must be, to make you learn to whistle to her bullfinches. I am rather out of her books

just now, but you will be quite in favour if you treat her livestock well. Good morning. If you meet with any

It was in the economy of this REGIME that Tess Durbeyfield had undertaken to fill a place. Her first day's

experiences were fairly typical of those which followed through many succeeding days. A familiarity with

Alec d'Urberville's presencewhich that young man carefully cultivated in her by playful dialogue, and by

jestingly calling her his cousin when they were aloneremoved much of her original shyness of him,

without, however, implanting any feeling which could engender shyness of a new and tenderer kind. But she

was more pliable under his hands than a mere companionship would have made her, owing to her

unavoidable dependence upon his mother, and, through that lady's comparative helplessness, upon him.

She soon found that whistling to the bullfinches in Mrs d'Urberville's room was no such onerous business

when she had regained the art, for she had caught from her musical mother numerous airs that suited those

songsters admirably. A far more satisfactory time than when she practised in the garden was this whistling by

the cages each morning. Unrestrained by the young man's presence she threw up her mouth, put her lips near

Mrs d'Urberville slept in a large fourpost bedstead hung with heavy damask curtains, and the bullfinches

occupied the same apartment, where they flitted about freely at certain hours, and made little white spots on

the furniture and upholstery. Once while Tess was at the window where the cages were ranged, giving her

lesson as usual, she thought she heard a rustling behind the bed. The old lady was not present, and turning

round the girl had an impression that the toes of a pair of boots were visible below the fringe of the curtains.

Thereupon her whistling became so disjointed that the listener, if such there were, must have discovered her

suspicion of his presence. She searched the curtains every morning after that, but never found anybody within

them. Alec d'Urberville had evidently thought better of his freak to terrify her by an ambush of that kind.

Every village has its idiosyncrasy, its constitution, often its own code of morality. The levity of some of the

younger women in and about Trantridge was marked, and was perhaps symptomatic of the choice spirit who

ruled The Slopes in that vicinity. The place had also a more abiding defect; it drank hard. The staple

conversation on the farms around was on the uselessness of saving money; and smockfrocked arithmeticians,

leaning on their ploughs or hoes, would enter into calculations of great nicety to prove that parish relief was a

fuller provision for a man in his old age than any which could result from savings out of their wages during a

The chief pleasure of these philosophers lay in going every Saturday night, when work was done, to

Chaseborough, a decayed markettown two or three miles distant; and, returning in the small hours of the

next morning, to spend Sunday in sleeping off the dyspeptic effects of the curious compounds sold to them as

For a long time Tess did not join in the weekly pilgrimages. But under pressure from matrons not much older

than herselffor a fieldman's wages being as high at twentyone as at forty, marriage was early

hereTess at length consented to go. Her first experience of the journey afforded her more enjoyment than

she had expected, the hilariousness of the others being quite contagious after her monotonous attention to the

poultryfarm all the week. She went again and again. Being graceful and interesting, standing moreover on

the momentary threshold of womanhood, her appearance drew down upon her some sly regards from

loungers in the streets of Chaseborough; hence, though sometimes her journey to the town was made

independently, she always searched for her fellows at nightfall, to have the protection of their companionship

This had gone on for a month or two when there came a Saturday in September, on which a fair and a market

coincided; and the pilgrims from Trantridge sought double delights at the inns on that account. Tess's

occupations made her late in setting out, so that her comrades reached the town long before her. It was a fine

September evening, just before sunset, when yellow lights struggle with blue shades in hairlike lines, and the

atmosphere itself forms a prospect without aid from more solid objects, except the innumerable winged

insects that dance in it. Through this lowlit mistiness Tess walked leisurely along.

She did not discover the coincidence of the market with the fair till she had reached the place, by which time

it was close upon dusk. Her limited marketing was soon completed; and then as usual she began to look about

At first she could not find them, and she was informed that most of them had gone to what they called a

private little jig at the house of a haytrusser and peatdealer who had transactions with their farm. He lived

in an outoftheway nook of the townlet, and in trying to find her course thither her eyes fell upon Mr

"I'll see you again," said he over her shoulder as she went on down the back lane.

Approaching the haytrussers she could hear the fiddled notes of a reel proceeding from some building in the

rear; but no sound of dancing was audiblean exceptional state of things for these parts, where as a rule the

stamping drowned the music. The front door being open she could see straight through the house into the

garden at the back as far as the shades of night would allow; and nobody appearing to her knock she traversed

the dwelling and went up the path to the outhouse whence the sound had attracted her.

It was a windowless erection used for storage, and from the open door there floated into the obscurity a mist

of yellow radiance, which at first Tess thought to be illuminated smoke. But on drawing nearer she perceived

that it was a cloud of dust, lit by candles within the outhouse, whose beams upon the haze carried forward the

When she came close and looked in she beheld indistinct forms racing up and down to the figure of the

dance, the silence of their footfalls arising from their being overshoe in "scroff"that is to say, the powdery

residuum from the storage of peat and other products, the stirring of which by their turbulent feet created the

nebulosity that involved the scene. Through this floating, fusty DEBRIS of peat and hay, mixed with the

perspirations and warmth of the dancers, and forming together a sort of vegetohuman pollen, the muted

fiddles feebly pushed their notes, in marked contrast to the spirit with which the measure was trodden out.

They coughed as they danced, and laughed as they coughed. Of the rushing couples there could barely be

discerned more than the high lightsthe indistinctness shaping them to satyrs clasping nymphsa

multiplicity of Pans whirling a multiplicity of Syrinxes; Lotis attempting to elude Priapus, and always failing.

At intervals a couple would approach the doorway for air, and the haze no longer veiling their features, the

demigods resolved themselves into the homely personalities of her own nextdoor neighbours. Could

Some Sileni of the throng sat on benches and haytrusses by the wall; and one of them recognized her.

"The maids don't think it respectable to dance at The FlowerdeLuce," he explained. "They don't like to let

everybody see which be their fancymen. Besides, the house sometimes shuts up just when their jints begin

She waited. The reel drew to a close, and some of the party were in the mind of starting. But others would

not, and another dance was formed. This surely would end it, thought Tess. But it merged in yet another. She

became restless and uneasy; yet, having waited so long, it was necessary to wait longer; on account of the fair

the roads were dotted with roving characters of possibly ill intent; and, though not fearful of measurable

dangers, she feared the unknown. Had she been near Marlott she would have had less dread.

"Don't ye be nervous, my dear good soul," expostulated, between his coughs, a young man with a wet face,

and his straw hat so far back upon his head that the brim encircled it like the nimbus of a saint. "What's yer

hurry? Tomorrow is Sunday, thank God, and we can sleep it off in churchtime. Now, have a turn with me?"

She did not abhor dancing, but she was not going to dance here. The movement grew more passionate: the

fiddlers behind the luminous pillar of cloud now and then varied the air by playing on the wrong side of the

bridge or with the back of the bow. But it did not matter; the panting shapes spun onwards.

They did not vary their partners if their inclination were to stick to previous ones. Changing partners simply

meant that a satisfactory choice had not as yet been arrived at by one or other of the pair, and by this time

every couple had been suitable matched. It was then that the ecstasy and the dream began, in which emotion

was the matter of the universe, and matter but an adventitious intrusion likely to hinder you from spinning

Suddenly there was a dull thump on the ground: a couple had fallen, and lay in a mixed heap. The next

couple, unable to check its progress, came toppling over the obstacle. An inner cloud of dust rose around the

prostrate figures amid the general one of the room, in which a twitching entanglement of arms and legs was

"You shall catch it for this, my gentleman, when you get home!" burst in female accents from the human

heapthose of the unhappy partner of the man whose clumsiness had caused the mishap; she happened also

to be his recently married wife, in which assortment there was nothing unusual at Trantridge as long as any

affection remained between wedded couples; and, indeed, it was not uncustomary in their later lives, to avoid

making odd lots of the single people between whom there might be a warm understanding.

A loud laugh from behind Tess's back, in the shade of the garden, united with the titter within the room. She

looked round, and saw the red coal of a cigar: Alec d'Urberville was standing there alone. He beckoned to

She was so tired after her long day and her walk that she confided her trouble to himthat she had been

waiting ever since he saw her to have their company home, because the road at night was strange to her. "But

"Certainly do not. I have only a saddlehorse here today; but come to The FlowerdeLuce, and I'll hire a

Tess, though flattered, had never quite got over her original mistrust of him, and, despite their tardiness, she

preferred to walk home with the workfolk. So she answered that she was much obliged to him, but would

not trouble him. "I have said that I will wait for 'em, and they will expect me to now."

"Very well, Miss Independence. Please yourself.... Then I shall not hurry.... My good Lord, what a kickup

He had not put himself forward into the light, but some of them had perceived him, and his presence led to a

slight pause and a consideration of how the time was flying. As soon as he had relit a cigar and walked

away the Trantridge people began to collect themselves from amid those who had come in from other farms,

and prepared to leave in a body. Their bundles and baskets were gathered up, and half an hour later, when the

clockchime sounded a quarter past eleven, they were straggling along the lane which led up the hill towards

It was a threemile walk, along a dry white road, made whiter tonight by the light of the moon.

Tess soon perceived as she walked in the flock, sometimes with this one, sometimes with that, that the fresh

night air was producing staggerings and serpentine courses among then men who had partaken too freely;

some of the more careless women also were wandering in their gaitto wit, a dark virago, Car Darch,

dubbed Queen of Spades, till lately a favourite of d'Urberville's; Nancy, her sister, nicknamed the Queen of

Diamonds; and the young married woman who had already tumbled down. Yet however terrestrial and lumpy

their appearance just now to the mean unglamoured eye, to themselves the case was different. They followed

the road with a sensation that they were soaring along in a supporting medium, possessed of original and

profound thoughts, themselves and surrounding nature forming an organism of which all the parts

harmoniously and joyously interpenetrated each other. They were as sublime as the moon and stars above

Tess, however, had undergone such painful experiences of this kind in her father's house, that the discovery

of their condition spoilt the pleasure she was beginning to feel in the moonlight journey. Yet she stuck to the

In the open highway they had progressed in scattered order; but now their route was through a fieldgate, and

This leading pedestrian was Car the Queen of Spades, who carried a wickerbasket containing her mother's

groceries, her own draperies, and other purchases for the week. The basket being large and heavy, Car had

placed it for convenience of porterage on the top of her head, where it rode on in jeopardized balance as she

"Wellwhatever is that acreeping down thy back, Car Darch?" said one of the group suddenly.

All looked at Car. Her gown was a light cotton print, and from the back of her head a kind of rope could be

No; it was not her hair: it was a black stream of something oozing from her basket, and it glistened like a

Treacle it was. Car's poor old grandmother had a weakness for the sweet stuff. Honey she had in plenty out of

her own hives, but treacle was what her soul desired, and Car had been about to give her a treat of surprise.

Hastily lowering the basket the dark girl found that the vessel containing the syrup had been smashed within.

By this time there had arisen a shout of laughter at the extraordinary appearance of Car's back, which irritated

the dark queen into getting rid of the disfigurement by the first sudden means available, and independently of

the help of the scoffers. She rushed excitedly into the field they were about to cross, and flinging herself flat

on her back upon the grass, began to wipe her gown as well as she could by spinning horizontally on the

The laughter rang louder; they clung to the gate, to the posts, rested on their staves, in the weakness

engendered by their convulsions at the spectacle of Car. Our heroine, who had hitherto held her peace, at this

It was a misfortunein more ways than one. No sooner did the dark queen hear the soberer richer note of

Tess among those of the other workpeople than a long smouldering sense of rivalry inflamed her to

"I couldn't really help it when t'others did," apologized Tess, still tittering.

"Ah, th'st think th' beest everybody, dostn't, because th' beest first favourite with He just now! But stop a bit,

To Tess's horror the dark queen began stripping off the bodice of her gownwhich for the added reason of

its ridiculed condition she was only too glad to be free oftill she had bared her plump neck, shoulders, and

arms to the moonshine, under which they looked as luminous and beautiful as some Praxitelean creation, in

their possession of the faultless rotundities of a lusty country girl. She closed her fists and squared up at Tess.

"Indeed, then, I shall not fight!" said the latter majestically; "and if I had know you was of that sort, I

The rather too inclusive speech brought down a torrent of vituperation from other quarters upon fair Tess's

unlucky head, particularly from the Queen of Diamonds, who having stood in the relations to d'Urberville

that Car had also been suspected of, united with the latter against the common enemy. Several other women

also chimed in, with an animus which none of them would have been so fatuous as to show but for the

rollicking evening they had passed. Thereupon, finding Tess unfairly browbeaten, the husbands and lovers

tried to make peace by defending her; but the result of that attempt was directly to increase the war.

Tess was indignant and ashamed. She no longer minded the loneliness of the way and the lateness of the

hour; her one object was to get away from the whole crew as soon as possible. She knew well enough that the

better among them would repent of their passion next day. They were all now inside the field, and she was

edging back to rush off alone when a horseman emerged almost silently from the corner of the hedge that

The explanation was not readily forthcoming; and, in truth, he did not require any. Having heard their voices

while yet some way off he had ridden creepingly forward, and learnt enough to satisfy himself.

Tess was standing apart from the rest, near the gate. He bent over towards her. "Jump up behind me," he

She felt almost ready to faint, so vivid was her sense of the crisis. At almost any other moment of her life she

would have refused such proffered aid and company, as she had refused them several times before; and now

the loneliness would not of itself have forced her to do otherwise. But coming as the invitation did at the

particular juncture when fear and indignation at these adversaries could be transformed by a spring of the foot

into a triumph over them, she abandoned herself to her impulse, climbed the gate, put her toe upon his instep,

and scrambled into the saddle behind him. The pair were speeding away into the distant gray by the time that

The Queen of Spades forgot the stain on her bodice, and stood beside the Queen of Diamonds and the

newmarried, staggering young womanall with a gaze of fixity in the direction in which the horse's tramp

"Heeheehee!" laughed the tippling bride, as she steadied herself on the arm of her fond husband.

"Heuheuheu!" laughed dark Car's mother, stroking her moustache as she explained laconically: "Out of the

Then these children of the open air, whom even excess of alcohol could scarce injure permanently, betook

themselves to the fieldpath; and as they went there moved onward with them, around the shadow of each

one's head, a circle of opalized light, formed by the moon's rays upon the glistening sheet of dew. Each

pedestrian could see no halo but his or her own, which never deserted the headshadow, whatever its vulgar

unsteadiness might be; but adhered to it, and persistently beautified it; till the erratic motions seemed an

inherent part of the irradiation, and the fumes of their breathing a component of the night's mist; and the spirit

of the scene, and of the moonlight, and of Nature, seemed harmoniously to mingle with the spirit of wine.

The twain cantered along for some time without speech, Tess as she clung to him still panting in her triumph,

yet in other respects dubious. She had perceived that the horse was not the spirited one he sometimes rose,

and felt no alarm on that score, though her seat was precarious enough despite her tight hold of him. She

"Ah, I half feared as much." Nevertheless, Alec did not object to that confession. He knew that anything was

She was silent, and the horse ambled along for a considerable distance, till a faint luminous fog, which had

hung in the hollows all the evening, became general and enveloped them. It seemed to hold the moonlight in

suspension, rendering it more pervasive than in clear air. Whether on this account, or from

absentmindedness, or from sleepiness, she did not perceive that they had long ago passed the point at which

the lane to Trantridge branched from the highway, and that her conductor had not taken the Trantridge track.

She was inexpressibly weary. She had risen at five o'clock every morning of that week, had been on foot the

whole of each day, and on this evening had in addition walked the three miles to Chaseborough, waited three

hours for her neighbours without eating or drinking, her impatience to start them preventing either; she had

then walked a mile of the way home, and had undergone the excitement of the quarrel, till, with the slow

progress of their steed, it was now nearly one o'clock. Only once, however, was she overcome by actual

D'Urberville stopped the horse, withdrew his feet from the stirrups, turned sideways on the saddle, and

This immediately put her on the defensive, and with one of those sudden impulses of reprisal to which she

was liable she gave him a little push from her. In his ticklish position he nearly lost his balance and only just

avoided rolling over into the road, the horse, though a powerful one, being fortunately the quietest he rode.

"That is devilish unkind!" he said. "I mean no harmonly to keep you from falling."

She pondered suspiciously; till, thinking that this might after all be true, she relented, and said quite humbly,

"I won't pardon you unless you show some confidence in me. Good God!" he burst out, "what am I, to be

repulsed so by a mere chit like you? For near three mortal months have you trifled with my feelings, eluded

"No, you will not leave me tomorrow! Will you, I ask once more, show your belief in me by letting me clasp

you with my arm? Come, between us two and nobody else, now. We know each other well; and you know

that I love you, and think you the prettiest girl in the world, which you are. Mayn't I treat you as a lover?"

She drew a quick pettish breath of objection, writhing uneasily on her seat, looked far ahead, and murmured,

He settled the matter by clasping his arm round her as he desired, and Tess expressed no further negative.

Thus they sidled slowly onward till it struck her they had been advancing for an unconscionable timefar

longer than was usually occupied by the short journey from Chaseborough, even at this walking pace, and

"A bit of The Chasethe oldest wood in England. It is a lovely night, and why should we not prolong our

"How could you be so treacherous!" said Tess, between archness and real dismay, and getting rid of his arm

by pulling open his fingers one by one, though at the risk of slipping off herself. "Just when I've been putting

such trust in you, and obliging you to please you, because I thought I had wronged you by that push! Please

"You cannot walk home, darling, even if the air were clear. We are miles away from Trantridge, if I must tell

"Never mind that," she coaxed. "Put me down, I beg you. I don't mind where it is; only let me get down, sir,

"Very well, then, I willon one condition. Having brought you here to this outoftheway place, I feel

myself responsible for your safeconduct home, whatever you may yourself feel about it. As to your getting

to Trantridge without assistance, it is quite impossible; for, to tell the truth, dear, owing to this fog, which so

disguises everything, I don't quite know where we are myself. Now, if you will promise to wait beside the

horse while I walk through the bushes till I come to some road or house, and ascertain exactly our

whereabouts, I'll deposit you here willingly. When I come back I'll give you full directions, and if you insist

She accepted these terms, and slid off on the near side, though not till he had stolen a cursory kiss. He sprang

"Oh no; it's not necessary," replied Alec, patting the panting creature. "He's had enough of it for tonight."

He turned the horse's head into the bushes, hitched him on to a bough, and made a sort of couch or nest for

"Now, you sit there," he said. "The leaves have not got damp as yet. Just give an eye to the horseit will be

He took a few steps away from her, but, returning, said, "By the bye, Tess, your father has a new cob today.

"O how very good of you that is!" she exclaimed, with a painful sense of the awkwardness of having to thank

"I didn't knowyou ever sent them anything!" she murmured, much moved. "I almost wish you had

"I'm grateful," she reluctantly admitted. "But I fear I do not" The sudden vision of his passion for herself

as a factor in this result so distressed her that, beginning with one slow tear, and then following with another,

"Don't cry, dear, dear one! Now sit down here, and wait till I come." She passively sat down amid the leaves

He touched her with his fingers, which sank into her as into down. "You have only that puffy muslin dress

"It's my best summer one. 'Twas very warm when I started, and I didn't know I was going to ride, and that it

"Nights grow chilly in September. Let me see." He pulled off a light overcoat that he had worn, and put it

round her tenderly. "That's itnow you'll feel warmer," he continued. "Now, my pretty, rest there; I shall

Having buttoned the overcoat round her shoulders he plunged into the webs of vapour which by this time

formed veils between the trees. She could hear the rustling of the branches as he ascended the adjoining

slope, till his movements were no louder than the hopping of a bird, and finally died away. With the setting of

the moon the pale light lessened, and Tess became invisible as she fell into reverie upon the leaves where he

In the meantime Alec d'Urberville had pushed on up the slope to clear his genuine doubt as to the quarter of

The Chase they were in. He had, in fact, ridden quite at random for over an hour, taking any turning that

came to hand in order to prolong companionship with her, and giving far more attention to Tess's moonlit

person than to any wayside object. A little rest for the jaded animal being desirable, he did not hasten his

search for landmarks. A clamber over the hill into the adjoining vale brought him to the fence of a highway

whose contours he recognized, which settled the question of their whereabouts. D'Urberville thereupon

turned back; but by this time the moon had quite gone down, and partly on account of the fog The Chase was

wrapped in thick darkness, although morning was not far off. He was obliged to advance with outstretched

hands to avoid contact with the boughs, and discovered that to hit the exact spot from which he had started

was at first entirely beyond him. Roaming up and down, round and round, he at length heard a slight

movement of the horse close at hand; and the sleeve of his overcoat unexpectedly caught his foot.

There was no answer. The obscurity was now so great that he could see absolutely nothing but a pale

nebulousness at his feet, which represented the white muslin figure he had left upon the dead leaves.

Everything else was blackness alike. D'Urberville stooped; and heard a gentle regular breathing. He knelt and

bent lower, till her breath warmed his face, and in a moment his cheek was in contact with hers. She was

Darkness and silence ruled everywhere around. Above them rose the primeval yews and oaks of The Chase,

in which there poised gentle roosting birds in their last nap; and about them stole the hopping rabbits and

hares. But, might some say, where was Tess's guardian angel? where was the providence of her simple faith?

Perhaps, like that other god of whom the ironical Tishbite spoke, he was talking, or he was pursuing, or he

Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as

yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse

appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong woman the man, many thousand years of

analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order. One may, indeed, admit the possibility of a

retribution lurking in the present catastrophe. Doubtless some of Tess d'Urberville's mailed ancestors

rollicking home from a fray had dealt the same measure even more ruthlessly towards peasant girls of their

time. But though to visit the sins of the fathers upon the children may be a morality good enough for

divinities, it is scorned by average human nature; and it therefore does not mend the matter.

As Tess's own people down in those retreats are never tired of saying among each other in their fatalistic

way: "It was to be." There lay the pity of it. An immeasurable social chasm was to divide our heroine's

personality thereafter from that previous self of hers who stepped from her mother's door to try her fortune at

The basket was heavy and the bundle was large, but she lugged them along like a person who did not find her

especial burden in material things. Occasionally she stopped to rest in a mechanical way by some gate or

post; and then, giving the baggage another hitch upon her full round arm, went steadily on again.

It was a Sunday morning in late October, about four months after Tess Durbeyfield's arrival at Trantridge,

and some few weeks subsequent to the night ride in The Chase. The time was not long past daybreak, and the

yellow luminosity upon the horizon behind her back lighted the ridge towards which her face was setthe

barrier of the vale wherein she had of late been a strangerwhich she would have to climb over to reach her

birthplace. The ascent was gradual on this side, and the soil and scenery differed much from those within

Blackmore Vale. Even the character and accent of the two peoples had shades of difference, despite the

amalgamating effects of a roundabout railway; so that, though less than twenty miles from the place of her

sojourn at Trantridge, her native village had seemed a faraway spot. The fieldfolk shut in there traded

northward and westward, travelled, courted, and married northward and westward, thought northward and

westward; those on this side mainly directed their energies and attention to the east and south.

The incline was the same down which d'Urberville had driven her so wildly on that day in June. Tess went up

the remainder of its length without stopping, and on reaching the edge of the escarpment gazed over the

familiar green world beyond, now halfveiled in mist. It was always beautiful from here; it was terribly

beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the

sweet birds sing, and her views of life had been totally changed for her by the lesson. Verily another girl than

the simple one she had been at home was she who, bowed by thought, stood still here, and turned to look

Ascending by the long white road that Tess herself had just laboured up, she saw a twowheeled vehicle,

She obeyed the signal to wait for him with unspeculative repose, and in a few minutes man and horse stopped

"Why did you slip away by stealth like this?" said d'Urberville, with upbraiding breathlessness; "on a Sunday

morning, too, when people were all in bed! I only discovered it by accident, and I have been driving like the

deuce to overtake you. Just look at the mare. Why go off like this? You know that nobody wished to hinder

your going. And how unnecessary it has been for you to toil along on foot, and encumber yourself with this

heavy load! I have followed like a madman, simply to drive you the rest of the distance, if you won't come

"I thought you wouldn'tI said so! Well, then, put up your basket, and let me help you on."

She listlessly placed her basket and bundle within the dogcart, and stepped up, and they sat side by side. She

D'Urberville mechanically lit a cigar, and the journey was continued with broken unemotional conversation

on the commonplace objects by the wayside. He had quite forgotten his struggle to kiss her when, in the early

summer, they had driven in the opposite direction along the same road. But she had not, and she sat now, like

a puppet, replying to his remarks in monosyllables. After some miles they came in view of the clump of trees

beyond which the village of Marlott stood. It was only then that her still face showed the least emotion, a tear

"'Tis quite true. If I had gone for love o' you, if I had ever sincerely loved you, if I loved you still, I should not

so loathe and hate myself for my weakness as I do now! ... My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that

"How can you dare to use such words!" she cried, turning impetuously upon him, her eyes flashing as the

latent spirit (of which he was to see more some day) awoke in her. "My God! I could knock you out of the

gig! Did it never strike your mind that what every woman says some women may feel?"

"Very well," he said, laughing; "I am sorry to wound you. I did wrongI admit it." He dropped into some

little bitterness as he continued: "Only you needn't be so everlastingly flinging it in my face. I am ready to

pay to the uttermost farthing. You know you need not work in the fields or the dairies again. You know you

may clothe yourself with the best, instead of in the bald plain way you have lately affected, as if you couldn't

Her lip lifted slightly, though there was little scorn, as a rule, in her large and impulsive nature.

"I have said I will not take anything more from you, and I will notI cannot! I SHOULD be your creature to

"One would think you were a princess from your manner, in addition to a true and original d'Urbervilleha!

ha! Well, Tess, dear, I can say no more. I suppose I am a bad fellowa damn bad fellow. I was born bad,

and I have lived bad, and I shall die bad in all probability. But, upon my lost soul, I won't be bad towards you

again, Tess. And if certain circumstances should ariseyou understandin which you are in the least need,

the least difficulty, send me one line, and you shall have by return whatever you require. I may not be at

TrantridgeI am going to London for a timeI can't stand the old woman. But all letters will be

She said that she did not wish him to drive her further, and they stopped just under the clump of trees.

D'Urberville alighted, and lifted her down bodily in his arms, afterwards placing her articles on the ground

beside her. She bowed to him slightly, her eye just lingering in his; and then she turned to take the parcels for

She thereupon turned round and lifted her face to his, and remained like a marble term while he imprinted a

kiss upon her cheekhalf perfunctorily, half as if zest had not yet quite died out. Her eyes vaguely rested

upon the remotest trees in the lane while the kiss was given, as though she were nearly unconscious of what

She turned her head in the same passive way, as one might turn at the request of a sketcher or hairdresser, and

he kissed the other side, his lips touching cheeks that were damp and smoothly chill as the skin of the

"You don't give me your mouth and kiss me back. You never willingly do thatyou'll never love me, I fear."

"I have said so, often. It is true. I have never really and truly loved you, and I think I never can." She added

mournfully, "Perhaps, of all things, a lie on this thing would do the most good to me now; but I have honour

enough left, little as 'tis, not to tell that lie. If I did love you I may have the best o' causes for letting you know

He emitted a laboured breath, as if the scene were getting rather oppressive to his heart, or to his conscience,

"Well, you are absurdly melancholy, Tess. I have no reason for flattering you now, and I can say plainly that

you need not be so sad. You can hold your own for beauty against any woman of these parts, gentle or

simple; I say it to you as a practical man and wellwisher. If you are wise you will show it to the world more

than you do before it fades.... And yet, Tess, will you come back to me! Upon my soul I don't like to let you

"Never, never! I made up my mind as soon as I sawwhat I ought to have seen sooner; and I won't come."

He leapt up lightly, arranged the reins, and was gone between the tall redberried hedges.

Tess did not look after him, but slowly wound along the crooked lane. It was still early, and though the sun's

lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as

yet. There was not a human soul near. Sad October and her sadder self seemed the only two existences

As she walked, however, some footsteps approached behind her, the footsteps of a man; and owing to the

briskness of his advance he was close at her heels and had said "Good morning" before she had been long

aware of his propinquity. He appeared to be an artisan of some sort, and carried a tin pot of red paint in his

hand. He asked in a businesslike manner if he should take her basket, which she permitted him to do,

"When most people are at rest from their week's work." She also assented to this.

"All the week I work for the glory of man, and on Sunday for the glory of God. That's more real than the

otherhey? I have a little to do here at this stile." The man turned as he spoke to an opening at the roadside

leading into a pasture. "If you'll wait a moment," he added, "I shall not be long."

As he had her basket she could not well do otherwise; and she waited, observing him. He set down her basket

and the tin pot, and stirring the paint with the brush that was in it began painting large square letters on the

middle board of the three composing the stile, placing a comma after each word, as if to give pause while that

Against the peaceful landscape, the pale, decaying tints of the copses, the blue air of the horizon and the

lichened stileboards, these staring vermilion words shone forth. They seemed to shout themselves out and

make the atmosphere ring. Some people might have cried "Alas, poor Theology!" at the hideous

defacementthe last grotesque phase of a creed which had served mankind well in its time. But the words

entered Tess with accusatory horror. It was as if this man had known her recent history; yet he was a total

Having finished his text he picked up her basket, and she mechanically resumed her walk beside him.

"I cannot split hairs on that burning query," he said. "I have walked hundreds of miles this past summer,

painting these texes on every wall, gate, and stile the length and breadth of this district. I leave their

"That's what they are meant to be!" he replied in a trade voice. "But you should read my hottest onesthem I

kips for slums and seaports. They'd make ye wriggle! Not but what this is a very good tex for rural districts.

... Ahthere's a nice bit of blank wall up by that barn standing to waste. I must put one thereone that it

will be good for dangerous young females like yerself to heed. Will ye wait, missy?"

"No," said she; and taking her basket Tess trudged on. A little way forward she turned her head. The old gray

wall began to advertise a similar fiery lettering to the first, with a strange and unwonted mien, as if distressed

at duties it had never before been called upon to perform. It was with a sudden flush that she read and

"If you want to ask for edification on these things of moment, there's a very earnest good man going to preach

a charitysermon today in the parish you are going toMr Clare of Emminster. I'm not of his persuasion

now, but he's a good man, and he'll expound as well as any parson I know. 'Twas he began the work in me."

But Tess did not answer; she throbbingly resumed her walk, her eyes fixed on the ground. "PoohI don't

believe God said such things!" she murmured contemptuously when her flush had died away.

A plume of smoke soared up suddenly from her father's chimney, the sight of which made her heart ache. The

aspect of the interior, when she reached it, made her heart ache more. Her mother, who had just come down

stairs, turned to greet her from the fireplace, where she was kindling barkedoak twigs under the breakfast

kettle. The young children were still above, as was also her father, it being Sunday morning, when he felt

"Well!my dear Tess!" exclaimed her surprised mother, jumping up and kissing the girl. "How be ye? I

"And yet th'st not got him to marry 'ee!" reiterated her mother. "Any woman would have done it but you, after

"It would have been something like a story to come back with, if you had!" continued Mrs Durbeyfield, ready

to burst into tears of vexation. "After all the talk about you and him which has reached us here, who would

have expected it to end like this! Why didn't ye think of doing some good for your family instead o' thinking

only of yourself? See how I've got to teave and slave, and your poor weak father with his heart clogged like a

drippingpan. I did hope for something to come out o' this! To see what a pretty pair you and he made that

day when you drove away together four months ago! See what he has given usall, as we thought, because

we were his kin. But if he's not, it must have been done because of his love for 'ee. And yet you've not got

Get Alec d'Urberville in the mind to marry her! He marry HER! On matrimony he had never once said a

word. And what if he had? How a convulsive snatching at social salvation might have impelled her to answer

him she could not say. But her poor foolish mother little knew her present feeling towards this man. Perhaps

it was unusual in the circumstances, unlucky, unaccountable; but there it was; and this, as she had said, was

what made her detest herself. She had never wholly cared for him, she did not at all care for him now. She

had dreaded him, winced before him, succumbed to adroit advantages he took of her helplessness; then,

temporarily blinded by his ardent manners, had been stirred to confused surrender awhile: had suddenly

despised and disliked him, and had run away. That was all. Hate him she did not quite; but he was dust and

"You ought to have been more careful if you didn't mean to get him to make you his wife!"

"O mother, my mother!" cried the agonized girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart

would break. "How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why

didn't you tell me there was danger in menfolk? Why didn't you warn me? Ladies know what to fend hands

against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance o' learning in that

"I thought if I spoke of his fond feelings and what they might lead to, you would be hontish wi' him and lose

your chance," she murmured, wiping her eyes with her apron. "Well, we must make the best of it, I suppose.

The event of Tess Durbeyfield's return from the manor of her bogus kinsfolk was rumoured abroad, if rumour

be not too large a word for a space of a square mile. In the afternoon several young girls of Marlott, former

schoolfellows and acquaintances of Tess, called to see her, arriving dressed in their best starched and ironed,

as became visitors to a person who had made a transcendent conquest (as they supposed), and sat round the

room looking at her with great curiosity. For the fact that it was this said thirtyfirst cousin, Mr d'Urberville,

who had fallen in love with her, a gentleman not altogether local, whose reputation as a reckless gallant and

heartbreaker was beginning to spread beyond the immediate boundaries of Trantridge, lent Tess's supposed

position, by its fearsomeness, a far higher fascination that it would have exercised if unhazardous.

Their interest was so deep that the younger ones whispered when her back was turned

"How pretty she is; and how that best frock do set her off! I believe it cost an immense deal, and that it was a

Tess, who was reaching up to get the teathings from the cornercupboard, did not hear these commentaries.

If she had heard them, she might soon have set her friends right on the matter. But her mother heard, and

Joan's simple vanity, having been denied the hope of a dashing marriage, fed itself as well as it could upon

the sensation of a dashing flirtation. Upon the whole she felt gratified, even though such a limited and

evanescent triumph should involve her daughter's reputation; it might end in marriage yet, and in the warmth

of her responsiveness to their admiration she invited her visitors to stay to tea.

Their chatter, their laughter, their goodhumoured innuendoes, above all, their flashes and flickerings of

envy, revived Tess's spirits also; and, as the evening wore on, she caught the infection of their excitement,

and grew almost gay. The marble hardness left her face, she moved with something of her old bounding step,

At moments, in spite of thought, she would reply to their inquiries with a manner of superiority, as if

recognizing that her experiences in the field of courtship had, indeed, been slightly enviable. But so far was

she from being, in the words of Robert South, "in love with her own ruin," that the illusion was transient as

lightning; cold reason came back to mock her spasmodic weakness; the ghastliness of her momentary pride

And the despondency of the next morning's dawn, when it was no longer Sunday, but Monday; and no best

clothes; and the laughing visitors were gone, and she awoke alone in her old bed, the innocent younger

children breathing softly around her. In place of the excitement of her return, and the interest it had inspired,

she saw before her a long and stony highway which she had to tread, without aid, and with little sympathy.

In the course of a few weeks Tess revived sufficiently to show herself so far as was necessary to get to church

one Sunday morning. She liked to hear the chantingsuch as it wasand the old Psalms, and to join in the

Morning Hymn. That innate love of melody, which she had inherited from her balladsinging mother, gave

the simplest music a power over her which could wellnigh drag her heart out of her bosom at times.

To be as much out of observation as possible for reasons of her own, and to escape the gallantries of the

young men, she set out before the chiming began, and took a back seat under the gallery, close to the lumber,

where only old men and women came, and where the bier stood on end among the churchyard tools.

Parishioners dropped in by twos and threes, deposited themselves in rows before her, rested threequarters of

a minute on their foreheads as if they were praying, though they were not; then sat up, and looked around.

When the chants came on one of her favourites happened to be chosen among the restthe old double chant

"Langdon"but she did not know what it was called, though she would much have liked to know. She

thought, without exactly wording the thought, how strange and godlike was a composer's power, who from

the grave could lead through sequences of emotion, which he alone had felt at first, a girl like her who had

The people who had turned their heads turned them again as the service proceeded; and at last observing her

they whispered to each other. She knew what their whispers were about, grew sick at heart, and felt that she

The bedroom which she shared with some of the children formed her retreat more continually than ever.

Here, under her few square yards of thatch, she watched winds, and snows, and rains, gorgeous sunsets, and

successive moons at their full. So close kept she that at length almost everybody thought she had gone away.

The only exercise that Tess took at this time was after dark; and it was then, when out in the woods, that she

seemed least solitary. She knew how to hit to a hair'sbreadth that moment of evening when the light and the

darkness are so evenly balanced that the constraint of day and the suspense of night neutralize each other,

leaving absolute mental liberty. It is then that the plight of being alive becomes attenuated to its least possible

dimensions. She had no fear of the shadows; her sole idea seemed to be to shun mankindor rather that cold

accretion called the world, which, so terrible in the mass, is so unformidable, even pitiable, in its units.

On these lonely hills and dales her quiescent glide was of a piece with the element she moved in. Her

flexuous and stealthy figure became an integral part of the scene. At times her whimsical fancy would

intensify natural processes around her till they seemed a part of her own story. Rather they became a part of

it; for the world is only a psychological phenomenon, and what they seemed they were. The midnight airs and

gusts, moaning amongst the tightlywrapped buds and bark of the winter twigs, were formulae of bitter

reproach. A wet day was the expression of irremediable grief at her weakness in the mind of some vague

ethical being whom she could not class definitely as the God of her childhood, and could not comprehend as

But this encompassment of her own characterization, based on shreds of convention, peopled by phantoms

and voices antipathetic to her, was a sorry and mistaken creation of Tess's fancya cloud of moral

hobgoblins by which she was terrified without reason. It was they that were out of harmony with the actual

world, not she. Walking among the sleeping birds in the hedges, watching the skipping rabbits on a moonlit

warren, or standing under a pheasantladen bough, she looked upon herself as a figure of Guilt intruding into

the haunts of Innocence. But all the while she was making a distinction where there was no difference.

Feeling herself in antagonism she was quite in accord. She had been made to break an accepted social law,

but no law know to the environment in which she fancied herself such an anomaly.

It was a hazy sunrise in August. The denser nocturnal vapours, attacked by the warm beams, were dividing

and shrinking into isolated fleeces within hollows and coverts, where they waited till they should be dried

The sun, on account of the mist, had a curious sentient, personal look, demanding the masculine pronoun for

its adequate expression. His present aspect, coupled with the lack of all human forms in the scene, explained

the oldtime heliolatries in a moment. One could feel that a saner religion had never prevailed under the sky.

The luminary was a goldenhaired, beaming, mildeyed, Godlike creature, gazing down in the vigour and

His light, a little later, broke though chinks of cottage shutters, throwing stripes like redhot pokers upon

cupboards, chests of drawers, and other furniture within; and awakening harvesters who were not already

But of all ruddy things that morning the brightest were two broad arms of painted wood, which rose from the

margin of yellow cornfield hard by Marlott village. They, with two others below, formed the revolving

Maltese cross of the reapingmachine, which had been brought to the field on the previous evening to be

ready for operations this day. The paint with which they were smeared, intensified in hue by the sunlight,

The field had already been "opened"; that is to say, a lane a few feet wide had been handcut through the

wheat along the whole circumference of the field for the first passage of the horses and machine.

Two groups, one of men and lads, the other of women, had come down the lane just at the hour when the

shadows of the eastern hedgetop struck the west hedge midway, so that the heads of the groups were

enjoying sunrise while their feet were still in the dawn. They disappeared from the lane between the two

Presently there arose from within a ticking like the lovemaking of the grasshopper. The machine had begun,

and a moving concatenation of three horses and the aforesaid long rickety machine was visible over the gate,

a driver sitting upon one of the hauling horses, and an attendant on the seat of the implement. Along one side

of the field the whole wain went, the arms of the mechanical reaper revolving slowly, till it passed down the

hill quite out of sight. In a minute it came up on the other side of the field at the same equable pace; the

glistening brass star in the forehead of the fore horse first catching the eye as it rose into view over the

The narrow lane of stubble encompassing the field grew wider with each circuit, and the standing corn was

reduced to smaller area as the morning wore on. Rabbits, hares, snakes, rats, mice, retreated inwards as into a

fastness, unaware of the ephemeral nature of their refuge, and of the doom that awaited them later in the day

when, their covert shrinking to a more and more horrible narrowness, they were huddled together, friends and

foes, till the last few yards of upright wheat fell also under the teeth of the unerring reaper, and they were

The reapingmachine left the fallen corn behind it in little heaps, each heap being of the quantity for a sheaf;

and upon these the active binders in the rear laid their handsmainly women, but some of them men in print

shirts, and trousers supported round their waists by leather straps, rendering useless the two buttons behind,

which twinkled and bristled with sunbeams at every movement of each wearer, as if they were a pair of eyes

But those of the other sex were the most interesting of this company of binders, by reason of the charm which

is acquired by woman when she becomes part and parcel of outdoor nature, and is not merely an object set

down therein as at ordinary times. A fieldman is a personality afield; a fieldwoman is a portion of the field;

she had somehow lost her own margin, imbibed the essence of her surrounding, and assimilated herself with

The womenor rather girls, for they were mostly youngwore drawn cotton bonnets with great flapping

curtains to keep off the sun, and gloves to prevent their hands being wounded by the stubble. There was one

wearing a pale pink jacket, another in a creamcoloured tightsleeved gown, another in a petticoat as red as

the arms of the reapingmachine; and others, older, in the brownrough "wropper" or overallthe

oldestablished and most appropriate dress of the fieldwoman, which the young ones were abandoning.

This morning the eye returns involuntarily to the girl in the pink cotton jacket, she being the most flexuous

and finelydrawn figure of them all. But her bonnet is pulled so far over her brow that none of her face is

disclosed while she binds, though her complexion may be guessed from a stray twine or two of dark brown

hair which extends below the curtain of her bonnet. Perhaps one reason why she seduces casual attention is

Her binding proceeds with clocklike monotony. From the sheaf last finished she draws a handful of ears,

patting their tips with her left palm to bring them even. Then stooping low she moves forward, gathering the

corn with both hands against her knees, and pushing her left gloved hand under the bundle to meet the right

on the other side, holding the corn in an embrace like that of a lover. She brings the ends of the bond together,

and kneels on the sheaf while she ties it, beating back her skirts now and then when lifted by the breeze. A bit

of her naked arm is visible between the buff leather of the gauntlet and the sleeve of her gown; and as the day

At intervals she stands up to rest, and to retie her disarranged apron, or to pull her bonnet straight. Then one

can see the oval face of a handsome young woman with deep dark eyes and long heavy clinging tresses,

which seem to clasp in a beseeching way anything they fall against. The cheeks are paler, the teeth more

It is Tess Durbeyfield, otherwise d'Urberville, somewhat changedthe same, but not the same; at the present

stage of her existence living as a stranger and an alien here, though it was no strange land that she was in.

After a long seclusion she had come to a resolve to undertake outdoor work in her native village, the busiest

season of the year in the agricultural world having arrived, and nothing that she could do within the house

The movements of the other women were more or less similar to Tess's, the whole bevy of them drawing

together like dancers in a quadrille at the completion of a sheaf by each, every one placing her sheaf on end

against those of the rest, till a shock, or "stitch" as it was here called, of ten or a dozen was formed.

They went to breakfast, and came again, and the work proceeded as before. As the hour of eleven drew near a

person watching her might have noticed that every now and then Tess's glance flitted wistfully to the brow of

the hill, though she did not pause in her sheafing. On the verge of the hour the heads of a group of children,

of ages ranging from six to fourteen, rose over the stubbly convexity of the hill.

The eldest of the comers, a girl who wore a triangular shawl, its corners draggling on the stubble, carried in

her arms what at first sight seemed to be a doll, but proved to be an infant in long clothes. Another brought

some lunch. The harvesters ceased working, took their provisions, and sat down against one of the shocks.

Tess Durbeyfield had been one of the last to suspend her labours. She sat down at the end of the shock, her

face turned somewhat away from her companions. When she had deposited herself a man in a rabbitskin cap

and with a red handkerchief tucked into his belt, held the cup of ale over the top of the shock for her to drink.

But she did not accept his offer. As soon as her lunch was spread she called up the big girl her sister, and took

the baby off her, who, glad to be relieved of the burden, went away to the next shock and joined the other

children playing there. Tess, with a curiously stealthy yet courageous movement, and with a still rising

The men who sat nearest considerately turned their faces towards the other end of the field, some of them

beginning to smoke; one, with absentminded fondness, regretfully stroking the jar that would no longer

yield a stream. All the women but Tess fell into animated talk, and adjusted the disarranged knots of their

When the infant had taken its fill the young mother sat it upright in her lap, and looking into the far distance

dandled it with a gloomy indifference that was almost dislike; then all of a sudden she fell to violently kissing

it some dozens of times, as if she could never leave off, the child crying at the vehemence of an onset which

"She's fond of that there child, though she mid pretend to hate en, and say she wishes the baby and her too

"She'll soon leave off saying that," replied the one in buff. "Lord, 'tis wonderful what a body can get used to

"A little more than persuading had to do wi' the coming o't, I reckon. There were they that heard a sobbing

one night last year in The Chase; and it mid ha' gone hard wi' a certain party if folks had come along."

"Well, a little more, or a little less, 'twas a thousand pities that it should have happened to she, of all others.

But 'tis always the comeliest! The plain ones be as safe as churcheshey, Jenny?" The speaker turned to one

It was a thousand pities, indeed; it was impossible for even an enemy to feel otherwise on looking at Tess as

she sat there, with her flowerlike mouth and large tender eyes, neither black nor blue nor grey nor violet;

rather all those shades together, and a hundred others, which could be seen if one looked into their

irisesshade behind shadetint beyond tintaround pupils that had no bottom; an almost standard

A resolution which had surprised herself had brought her into the fields this week for the first time during

many months. After wearing and wasting her palpitating heart with every engine of regret that lonely

inexperience could devise, commonsense had illuminated her. She felt that she would do well to be useful

againto taste anew sweet independence at any price. The past was past; whatever it had been it was no

more at hand. Whatever its consequences, time would close over them; they would all in a few years be as if

they had never been, and she herself grassed down and forgotten. Meanwhile the trees were just as green as

before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened

She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundlythe thought of the world's concern at her

situationwas founded on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of

sensations, to anybody but herself. To all humankind besides Tess was only a passing thought. Even to

friends she was no more than a frequently passing thought. If she made herself miserable the livelong night

and day it was only this much to them"Ah, she makes herself unhappy." If she tried to be cheerful, to

dismiss all care, to take pleasure in the daylight, the flowers, the baby, she could only be this idea to

them"Ah, she bears it very well." Moreover, alone in a desert island would she have been wretched at what

had happened to her? Not greatly. If she could have been but just created, to discover herself as a spouseless

mother, with no experience of life except as the parent of a nameless child, would the position have caused

her to despair? No, she would have taken it calmly, and found pleasure therein. Most of the misery had been

Whatever Tess's reasoning, some spirit had induced her to dress herself up neatly as she had formerly done,

and come out into the fields, harvesthands being greatly in demand just then. This was why she had borne

herself with dignity, and had looked people calmly in the face at times, even when holding the baby in her

The harvestmen rose from the shock of corn, and stretched their limbs, and extinguished their pipes. The

horses, which had been unharnessed and fed, were again attached to the scarlet machine. Tess, having quickly

eaten her own meal, beckoned to her eldest sister to come and take away the baby, fastened her dress, put on

the buff gloves again, and stooped anew to draw a bond from the last completed sheaf for the tying of the

In the afternoon and evening the proceedings of the morning were continued, Tess staying on till dusk with

the body of harvesters. Then they all rode home in one of the largest wagons, in the company of a broad

tarnished moon that had risen from the ground to the eastwards, its face resembling the outworn goldleaf

halo of some wormeaten Tuscan saint. Tess's female companions sang songs, and showed themselves very

sympathetic and glad at her reappearance out of doors, though they could not refrain from mischievously

throwing in a few verses of the ballad about the maid who went to the merry green wood and came back a

changed state. There are counterpoises and compensations in life; and the event which had made of her a

social warning had also for the moment made her the most interesting personage in the village to many. Their

friendliness won her still farther away from herself, their lively spirits were contagious, and she became

But now that her moral sorrows were passing away a fresh one arose on the natural side of her which knew

no social law. When she reached home it was to learn to her grief that the baby had been suddenly taken ill

since the afternoon. Some such collapse had been probable, so tender and puny was its frame; but the event

The baby's offence against society in coming into the world was forgotten by the girlmother; her soul's

desire was to continue that offence by preserving the life of the child. However, it soon grew clear that the

hour of emancipation for that little prisoner of the flesh was to arrive earlier than her worst misgiving had

conjectured. And when she had discovered this she was plunged into a misery which transcended that of the

Tess had drifted into a frame of mind which accepted passively the consideration that if she should have to

burn for what she had done, burn she must, and there was an end of it. Like all village girls she was well

grounded in the Holy Scriptures, and had dutifully studied the histories of Aholah and Aholibah, and knew

the inferences to be drawn therefrom. But when the same question arose with regard to the baby, it had a very

It was nearly bedtime, but she rushed downstairs and asked if she might send for the parson. The moment

happened to be one at which her father's sense of the antique nobility of his family was highest, and his

sensitiveness to the smudge which Tess had set upon that nobility most pronounced, for he had just returned

from his weekly booze at Rolliver's Inn. No parson should come inside his door, he declared, prying into his

affairs, just then, when, by her shame, it had become more necessary than ever to hide them. He locked the

The household went to bed, and, distressed beyond measure, Tess retired also. She was continually waking as

she lay, and in the middle of the night found that the baby was still worse. It was obviously dyingquietly

In her misery she rocked herself upon the bed. The clock struck the solemn hour of one, that hour when fancy

stalks outside reason, and malignant possibilities stand rockfirm as facts. She thought of the child consigned

to the nethermost corner of hell, as its double doom for lack of baptism and lack of legitimacy; saw the

archfiend tossing it with his threepronged fork, like the one they used for heating the oven on baking days;

to which picture she added many other quaint and curious details of torment sometimes taught the young in

this Christian country. The lurid presentment so powerfully affected her imagination in the silence of the

sleeping house that her nightgown became damp with perspiration, and the bedstead shook with each throb of

The infant's breathing grew more difficult, and the mother's mental tension increased. It was useless to devour

the little thing with kisses; she could stay in bed no longer, and walked feverishly about the room.

"O merciful God, have pity; have pity upon my poor baby!" she cried. "Heap as much anger as you want to

She leant against the chest of drawers, and murmured incoherent supplications for a long while, till she

She spoke so brightly that it seemed as though her face might have shone in the gloom surrounding her. She

lit a candle, and went to a second and a third bed under the wall, where she awoke her young sisters and

brothers, all of whom occupied the same room. Pulling out the washingstand so that she could get behind it,

she poured some water from a jug, and made them kneel around, putting their hands together with fingers

exactly vertical. While the children, scarcely awake, awestricken at her manner, their eyes growing larger

and larger, remained in this position, she took the baby from her beda child's childso immature as scarce

to seem a sufficient personality to endow its producer with the maternal title. Tess then stood erect with the

infant on her arm beside the basin, the next sister held the PrayerBook open before her, as the clerk at

church held it before the parson; and thus the girl set about baptizing her child.

Her figure looked singularly tall and imposing as she stood in her long white nightgown, a thick cable of

twisted dark hair hanging straight down her back to her waist. The kindly dimness of the weak candle

abstracted from her form and features the little blemishes which sunlight might have revealedthe stubble

scratches upon her wrists, and the weariness of her eyesher high enthusiasm having a transfiguring effect

upon the face which had been her undoing, showing it as a thing of immaculate beauty, with a touch of

dignity which was almost regal. The little ones kneeling round, their sleepy eyes blinking and red, awaited

her preparations full of a suspended wonder which their physical heaviness at that hour would not allow to

She had not thought of that, but a name suggested by a phrase in the book of Genesis came into her head as

"SORROW, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

"We receive this child"and so forth"and do sign him with the sign of the Cross."

Here she dipped her hand into the basin, and fervently drew an immense cross upon the baby with her

forefinger, continuing with the customary sentences as to his manfully fighting against sin, the world, and the

devil, and being a faithful soldier and servant unto his life's end. She duly went on with the Lord's Prayer, the

children lisping it after her in a thin gnatlike wail, till, at the conclusion, raising their voices to clerk's pitch,

Then their sister, with much augmented confidence in the efficacy of the sacrament, poured forth from the

bottom of her heart the thanksgiving that follows, uttering it boldly and triumphantly in the stoptdiapason

note which her voice acquired when her heart was in her speech, and which will never be forgotten by those

who knew her. The ecstasy of faith almost apotheosized her; it set upon her face a glowing irradiation, and

brought a red spot into the middle of each cheek; while the miniature candleflame inverted in her

eyepupils shone like a diamond. The children gazed up at her with more and more reverence, and no longer

had a will for questioning. She did not look like Sissy to them now, but as a being large, towering, and

Poor Sorrow's campaign against sin, the world, and the devil was doomed to be of limited brilliancyluckily

perhaps for himself, considering his beginnings. In the blue of the morning that fragile soldier and servant

breathed his last, and when the other children awoke they cried bitterly, and begged Sissy to have another

pretty baby. The calmness which had possessed Tess since the christening remained with her in the infant's

loss. In the daylight, indeed, she felt her terrors about his soul to have been somewhat exaggerated; whether

well founded or not she had no uneasiness now, reasoning that if Providence would not ratify such an act of

approximation she, for one, did not value the kind of heaven lost by the irregularityeither for herself or for

So passed away Sorrow the Undesiredthat intrusive creature, that bastard gift of shameless Nature who

respects not the social law; a waif to whom eternal Time had been a matter of days merely, who knew not

that such things as years and centuries ever were; to whom the cottage interior was the universe, the week's

weather climate, newborn babyhood human existence, and the instinct to suck human knowledge.

Tess, who mused on the christening a good deal, wondered if it were doctrinally sufficient to secure a

Christian burial for the child. Nobody could tell this but the parson of the parish, and he was a newcomer,

and did not know her. She went to his house after dusk, and stood by the gate, but could not summon courage

to go in. The enterprise would have been abandoned if she had not by accident met him coming homeward as

He expressed his willingness to listen, and she told the story of the baby's illness and the extemporized

ordinance. "And now, sir," she added earnestly, "can you tell me thiswill it be just the same for him as if

Having the natural feelings of a tradesman at finding that a job he should have been called in for had been

unskilfully botched by his customers among themselves, he was disposed to say no. Yet the dignity of the

girl, the strange tenderness in her voice, combined to affect his nobler impulsesor rather those that he had

left in him after ten years of endeavour to graft technical belief on actual scepticism. The man and the

The Vicar felt himself cornered. Hearing of the baby's illness, he had conscientiously gone to the house after

nightfall to perform the rite, and, unaware that the refusal to admit him had come from Tess's father and not

from Tess, he could not allow the plea of necessity for its irregular administration.

"WellI would willingly do so if only we two were concerned. But I must notfor certain reasons."

"Then I don't like you!" she burst out, "and I'll never come to your church no more!"

"Perhaps it will be just the same to him if you don't? ... Will it be just the same? Don't for God's sake speak as

How the Vicar reconciled his answer with the strict notions he supposed himself to hold on these subjects it is

beyond a layman's power to tell, though not to excuse. Somewhat moved, he said in this case also

So the baby was carried in a small deal box, under an ancient woman's shawl, to the churchyard that night,

and buried by lanternlight, at the cost of a shilling and a pint of beer to the sexton, in that shabby corner of

God's allotment where He lets the nettles grow, and where all unbaptized infants, notorious drunkards,

suicides, and others of the conjecturally damned are laid. In spite of the untoward surroundings, however,

Tess bravely made a little cross of two laths and a piece of string, and having bound it with flowers, she stuck

it up at the head of the grave one evening when she could enter the churchyard without being seen, putting at

the foot also a bunch of the same flowers in a little jar of water to keep them alive. What matter was it that on

the outside of the jar the eye of mere observation noted the words "Keelwell's Marmalade"? The eye of

"By experience," says Roger Ascham, "we find out a short way by a long wandering." Not seldom that long

wandering unfits us for further travel, and of what use is our experience to us then? Tess Durbeyfield's

experience was of this incapacitating kind. At last she had learned what to do; but who would now accept her

If before going to the d'Urbervilles' she had vigorously moved under the guidance of sundry gnomic texts and

phrases known to her and to the world in general, no doubt she would never have been imposed on. But it had

not been in Tess's powernor is it in anybody's powerto feel the whole truth of golden opinions while it is

possible to profit by them. Sheand how many moremight have ironically said to God with Saint

She remained at her father's house during the winter months, plucking fowls, or cramming turkeys and geese,

or making clothes for her sisters and brothers out of some finery which d'Urberville had given her, and she

had put by with contempt. Apply to him she would not. But she would often clasp her hands behind her head

She philosophically noted dates as they came past in the revolution of the year; the disastrous night of her

undoing at Trantridge with its dark background of The Chase; also the dates of the baby's birth and death;

also her own birthday; and every other day individualized by incidents in which she had taken some share.

She suddenly thought one afternoon, when looking in the glass at her fairness, that there was yet another date,

of greater importance to her than those; that of her own death, when all these charms would had disappeared;

a day which lay sly and unseen among all the other days of the year, giving no sign or sound when she

annually passed over it; but not the less surely there. When was it? Why did she not feel the chill of each

yearly encounter with such a cold relation? She had Jeremy Taylor's thought that some time in the future

those who had known her would say: "It is theth, the day that poor Tess Durbeyfield died"; and there

would be nothing singular to their minds in the statement. Of that day, doomed to be her terminus in time

through all the ages, she did not know the place in month, week, season or year.

Almost at a leap Tess thus changed from simple girl to complex woman. Symbols of reflectiveness passed

into her face, and a note of tragedy at times into her voice. Her eyes grew larger and more eloquent. She

became what would have been called a fine creature; her aspect was fair and arresting; her soul that of a

woman whom the turbulent experiences of the last year or two had quite failed to demoralize. But for the

She had held so aloof of late that her trouble, never generally known, was nearly forgotten in Marlott. But it

became evident to her that she could never be really comfortable again in a place which had seen the collapse

of her family's attempt to "claim kin" and, through her, even closer unionwith the rich d'Urbervilles. At

least she could not be comfortable there till long years should have obliterated her keen consciousness of it.

Yet even now Tess felt the pulse of hopeful like still warm within her; she might be happy in some nook

which had no memories. To escape the past and all that appertained thereto was to annihilate it, and to do that

Was once lost always lost really true of chastity? she would ask herself. She might prove it false if she could

veil bygones. The recuperative power which pervaded organic nature was surely not denied to maidenhood

She waited a long time without finding opportunity for a new departure. A particularly fine spring came

round, and the stir of germination was almost audible in the buds; it moved her, as it moved the wild animals,

and made her passionate to go. At last, one day in early May, a letter reached her from a former friend of her

mother's, to whom she had addressed inquiries long beforea person whom she had never seenthat a

skilful milkmaid was required at a dairyhouse many miles to the southward, and that the dairyman would be

It was not quite so far off as could have been wished; but it was probably far enough, her radius of movement

and repute having been so small. To persons of limited spheres, miles are as geographical degrees, parishes as

counties, counties as provinces and kingdoms. On one point she was resolved: there should be no more

d'Urberville aircastles in the dreams and deeds of her new life. She would be the dairymaid Tess, and

nothing more. Her mother knew Tess's feeling on this point so well, though no words had passed between

Yet such is human inconsistency that one of the interests of the new place to her was the accidental virtues of

its lying near her forefathers' country (for they were not Blakemore men, though her mother was Blakemore

to the bone). The dairy called Talbothays, for which she was bound, stood not remotely from some of the

former estates of the d'Urbervilles, near the great family vaults of her granddames and their powerful

husbands. She would be able to look at them, and think not only that d'Urberville, like Babylon, had fallen,

but that the individual innocence of a humble descendant could lapse as silently. All the while she wondered

if any strange good thing might come of her being in her ancestral land; and some spirit within her rose

automatically as the sap in the twigs. It was unexpected youth, surging up anew after its temporary check, and

On a thymescented, birdhatching morning in May, between two and three years after the return from

Trantridgesilent reconstructive years for Tess Durbeyfieldshe left her home for the second time.

Having packed up her luggage so that it could be sent to her later, she started in a hired trap for the little town

of Stourcastle, through which it was necessary to pass on her journey, now in a direction almost opposite to

that of her first adventuring. On the curve of the nearest hill she looked back regretfully at Marlott and her

Her kindred dwelling there would probably continue their daily lives as heretofore, with no great diminution

of pleasure in their consciousness, although she would be far off, and they deprived of her smile. In a few

days the children would engage in their games as merrily as ever, without the sense of any gap left by her

departure. This leaving of the younger children she had decided to be for the best; were she to remain they

She went through Stourcastle without pausing, and onward to a junction of highways, where she could await

a carrier's van that ran to the southwest; for the railways which engirdled this interior tract of country had

never yet struck across it. While waiting, however, there came along a farmer in his spring cart, driving

approximately in the direction that she wished to pursue. Though he was a stranger to her she accepted his

offer of a seat beside him, ignoring that its motive was a mere tribute to her countenance. He was going to

Weatherbury, and by accompanying him thither she could walk the remainder of the distance instead of

Tess did not stop at Weatherbury, after this long drive, further than to make a slight nondescript meal at noon

at a cottage to which the farmer recommended her. Thence she started on foot, basket in hand, to reach the

wide upland of heath dividing this district from the lowlying meads of a further valley in which the dairy

Tess had never before visited this part of the country, and yet she felt akin to the landscape. Not so very far to

the left of her she could discern a dark patch in the scenery, which inquiry confirmed her in supposing to be

trees marking the environs of Kingsberein the church of which parish the bones of her ancestorsher

She had no admiration for them now; she almost hated them for the dance they had led her; not a thing of all

that had been theirs did she retain but the old seal and spoon. "PoohI have as much of mother as father in

me!" she said. "All my prettiness comes from her, and she was only a dairymaid."

The journey over the intervening uplands and lowlands of Egdon, when she reached them, was a more

troublesome walk than she had anticipated, the distance being actually but a few miles. It was two hours,

owing to sundry wrong turnings, ere she found herself on a summit commanding the longsoughtfor vale,

the Valley of the Great Dairies, the valley in which milk and butter grew to rankness, and were produced

more profusely, if less delicately, than at her homethe verdant plain so well watered by the river Var or

It was intrinsically different from the Vale of Little Dairies, Blackmoor Vale, which, save during her

disastrous sojourn at Trantridge, she had exclusively known till now. The world was drawn to a larger pattern

here. The enclosures numbered fifty acres instead of ten, the farmsteads were more extended, the groups of

cattle formed tribes hereabout; there only families. These myriads of cows stretching under her eyes from the

far east to the far west outnumbered any she had ever seen at one glance before. The green lea was speckled

as thickly with them as a canvas by Van Alsloot or Sallaert with burghers. The ripe hue of the red and dun

kine absorbed the evening sunlight, which the whitecoated animals returned to the eye in rays almost

The bird'seye perspective before her was not so luxuriantly beautiful, perhaps, as that other one which she

knew so well; yet it was more cheering. It lacked the intensely blue atmosphere of the rival vale, and its

heavy soils and scents; the new air was clear, bracing, ethereal. The river itself, which nourished the grass

and cows of these renowned dairies, flowed not like the streams in Blackmoor. Those were slow, silent, often

turbid; flowing over beds of mud into which the incautious wader might sink and vanish unawares. The

Froom waters were clear as the pure River of Life shown to the Evangelist, rapid as the shadow of a cloud,

with pebbly shallows that prattled to the sky all day long. There the waterflower was the lily; the crowfoot

Either the change in the quality of the air from heavy to light, or the sense of being amid new scenes where

there were no invidious eyes upon her, sent up her spirits wonderfully. Her hopes mingled with the sunshine

in an ideal photosphere which surrounded her as she bounded along against the soft south wind. She heard a

Her face had latterly changed with changing states of mind, continually fluctuating between beauty and

ordinariness, according as the thoughts were gay or grave. One day she was pink and flawless; another pale

and tragical. When she was pink she was feeling less then when pale; her more perfect beauty accorded with

her less elevated mood; her more intense mood with her less perfect beauty. It was her best face physically

The irresistible, universal, automatic tendency to find sweet pleasure somewhere, which pervades all life,

from the meanest to the highest, had at length mastered Tess. Being even now only a young woman of

twenty, one who mentally and sentimentally had not finished growing, it was impossible that any event

should have left upon her an impression that was not in time capable of transmutation.

And thus her spirits, and her thankfulness, and her hopes, rose higher and higher. She tried several ballads,

but found them inadequate; till, recollecting the psalter that her eyes had so often wandered over of a Sunday

morning before she had eaten of the tree of knowledge, she chanted: "O ye Sun and Moon ... O ye Stars ... ye

Green Things upon the Earth ... ye Fowls of the Air ... Beasts and Cattle ... Children of Men ... bless ye the

She suddenly stopped and murmured: "But perhaps I don't quite know the Lord as yet."

And probably the halfunconscious rhapsody was a Fetichistic utterance in a Monotheistic setting; women

whose chief companions are the forms and forces of outdoor Nature retain in their souls far more of the

Pagan fantasy of their remote forefathers than of the systematized religion taught their race at later date.

However, Tess found at least approximate expression for her feelings in the old BENEDICITE that she had

lisped from infancy; and it was enough. Such high contentment with such a slight initial performance as that

of having started towards a means of independent living was a part of the Durbeyfield temperament. Tess

really wished to walk uprightly, while her father did nothing of the kind; but she resembled him in being

content with immediate and small achievements, and in having no mind for laborious effort towards such

petty social advancement as could alone be effected by a family so heavily handicapped as the once powerful

There was, it might be said, the energy of her mother's unexpected family, as well as the natural energy of

Tess's years, rekindled after the experience which had so overwhelmed her for the time. Let the truth be

toldwomen do as a rule live through such humiliations, and regain their spirits, and again look about them

with an interested eye. While there's life there's hope is a conviction not so entirely unknown to the

Tess Durbeyfield, then, in good heart, and full of zest for life, descended the Egdon slopes lower and lower

The marked difference, in the final particular, between the rival vales now showed itself. The secret of

Blackmoor was best discovered from the heights around; to read aright the valley before her it was necessary

to descend into its midst. When Tess had accomplished this feat she found herself to be standing on a

carpeted level, which stretched to the east and west as far as the eye could reach.

The river had stolen from the higher tracts and brought in particles to the vale all this horizontal land; and

now, exhausted, aged, and attenuated, lay serpentining along through the midst of its former spoils.

Not quite sure of her direction Tess stood still upon the hemmed expanse of verdant flatness, like a fly on a

billiardtable of indefinite length, and of no more consequence to the surroundings than that fly. The sole

effect of her presence upon the placid valley so far had been to excite the mind of a solitary heron, which,

after descending to the ground not far from her path, stood with neck erect, looking at her.

Suddenly there arose from all parts of the lowland a prolonged and repeated call"Waow! waow! waow!"

From the furthest east to the furthest west the cries spread as if by contagion, accompanied in some cases by

the barking of a dog. It was not the expression of the valley's consciousness that beautiful Tess had arrived,

but the ordinary announcement of milkingtimehalfpast four o'clock, when the dairymen set about

The red and white herd nearest at hand, which had been phlegmatically waiting for the call, now trooped

towards the steading in the background, their great bags of milk swinging under them as they walked. Tess

followed slowly in their rear, and entered the barton by the open gate through which they had entered before

her. Long thatched sheds stretched round the enclosure, their slopes encrusted with vivid green moss, and

their eaves supported by wooden posts rubbed to a glossy smoothness by the flanks of infinite cows and

calves of bygone years, now passed to an oblivion almost inconceivable in its profundity. Between the post

were ranged the milchers, each exhibiting herself at the present moment to a whimsical eye in the rear as a

circle on two stalks, down the centre of which a switch moved pendulumwise; while the sun, lowering itself

behind this patient row, threw their shadows accurately inwards upon the wall. Thus it threw shadows of

these obscure and homely figures every evening with as much care over each contour as if it had been the

profile of a court beauty on a palace wall; copied them as diligently as it had copied Olympian shapes on

They were the less restful cows that were stalled. Those that would stand still of their own will were milked

in the middle of the yard, where many of such better behaved ones stood waiting nowall prime milchers,

such as were seldom seen out of this valley, and not always within it; nourished by the succulent feed which

the watermeads supplied at this prime season of the year. Those of them that were spotted with white

reflected the sunshine in dazzling brilliancy, and the polished brass knobs of their horns glittered with

something of military display. Their largeveined udders hung ponderous as sandbags, the teats sticking out

like the legs of a gipsy's crock; and as each animal lingered for her turn to arrive the milk oozed forth and fell

The dairymaids and men had flocked down from their cottages and out of the dairyhouse with the arrival of

the cows from the meads; the maids walking in patterns, not on account of the weather, but to keep their

shoes above the mulch of the barton. Each girl sat down on her threelegged stool, her face sideways, her

right cheek resting against the cow; and looked musingly along the animal's flank at Tess as she approached.

The male milkers, with hatbrims turned down, resting flat on their foreheads and gazing on the ground, did

One of these was a sturdy middleaged manwhose long white "pinner" was somewhat finer and cleaner

than the wraps of the others, and whose jacket underneath had a presentable marketing aspectthe

masterdairyman, of whom she was in quest, his double character as a working milker and butter maker here

during six days, and on the seventh as a man in shining broadcloth in his family pew at church, being so

The majority of dairymen have a cross manner at milking time, but it happened that Mr Crick was glad to get

a new handfor the days were busy ones nowand he received her warmly; inquiring for her mother and

the rest of the family(though this as a matter of form merely, for in reality he had not been aware of Mrs

Durbeyfield's existence till apprised of the fact by a brief businessletter about Tess).

"Ohay, as a lad I knowed your part o' the country very well," he said terminatively. "Though I've never

been there since. And a aged woman of ninety that use to live nigh here, but is dead and gone long ago, told

me that a family of some such name as yours in Blackmoor Vale came originally from these parts, and that

'twere a old ancient race that had all but perished off the earththough the new generations didn't know it.

"You can milk 'em clean, my maidy? I don't want my cow going azew at this time o' year."

She reassured him on that point, and he surveyed her up and down. She had been staying indoors a good deal,

"Quite sure you can stand it? 'Tis comfortable enough here for rough folk; but we don't live in a cowcumber

She declared that she could stand it, and her zest and willingness seemed to win him over.

"Well, I suppose you'll want a dish o' tay, or victuals of some sort, hey? Not yet? Well, do as ye like about it.

She drank a little milk as temporary refreshment to the surpriseindeed, slight contemptof Dairyman

Crick, to whose mind it had apparently never occurred that milk was good as a beverage.

"Oh, if ye can swaller that, be it so," he said indifferently, while holding up the pail that she sipped from.

"'Tis what I hain't touched for years not I. Rot the stuff; it would lie in my innerds like lead. You can try

your hand upon she," he pursued, nodding to the nearest cow. "Not but what she do milk rather hard. We've

hard ones and we've easy ones, like other folks. However, you'll find out that soon enough."

When Tess had changed her bonnet for a hood, and was really on her stool under the cow, and the milk was

squirting from her fists into the pail, she appeared to feel that she really had laid a new foundation for her

future. The conviction bred serenity, her pulse slowed, and she was able to look about her.

The milkers formed quite a little battalion of men and maids, the men operating on the hardteated animals,

the maids on the kindlier natures. It was a large dairy. There were nearly a hundred milchers under Crick's

management, all told; and of the herd the masterdairyman milked six or eight with his own hands, unless

away from home. These were the cows that milked hardest of all; for his journeymilkmen being more or

less casually hired, he would not entrust this halfdozen to their treatment, lest, from indifference, they

should not milk them fully; nor to the maids, lest they should fail in the same way for lack of fingergrip;

with the result that in course of time the cows would "go azew"that is, dry up. It was not the loss for the

moment that made slack milking so serious, but that with the decline of demand there came decline, and

After Tess had settled down to her cow there was for a time no talk in the barton, and not a sound interfered

with the purr of the milkjets into the numerous pails, except a momentary exclamation to one or other of the

beast requesting her to turn round or stand still. The only movements were those of the milkers' hands up and

down, and the swing of the cows' tails. Thus they all worked on, encompassed by the vast flat mead which

extended to either slope of the valleya level landscape compounded of old landscapes long forgotten, and,

no doubt, differing in character very greatly from the landscape they composed now.

"To my thinking," said the dairyman, rising suddenly from a cow he had just finished off, snatching up his

threelegged stool in one hand and the pail in the other, and moving on to the next hardyielder in his

vicinity; "to my thinking, the cows don't gie down their milk today as usual. Upon my life, if Winker do

"'Tis because there's a new hand come among us,' said Jonathan Kail. "I've noticed such things afore."

"I've been told that it goes up into their horns at such times," said a dairymaid.

"Well, as to going up into their horns," replied Dairyman Crick dubiously, as though even witchcraft might

be limited by anatomical possibilities, "I couldn't say; I certainly could not. But as nott cows will keep it back

as well as the horned ones, I don't quite agree to it. Do ye know that riddle about the nott cows, Jonathan?

"Because there bain't so many of 'em," said the dairyman. "Howsomever, these gam'sters do certainly keep

back their milk today. Folks, we must lift up a stave or twothat's the only cure for't."

Songs were often resorted to in dairies hereabout as an enticement to the cows when they showed signs of

withholding their usual yield; and the band of milkers at this request burst into melodyin purely

businesslike tones, it is true, and with no great spontaneity; the result, according to their own belief, being a

decided improvement during the song's continuance. When they had gone through fourteen or fifteen verses

of a cheerful ballad about a murderer who was afraid to go to bed in the dark because he saw certain

"I wish singing on the stoop didn't use up so much of a man's wind! You should get your harp, sir; not but

Tess, who had given ear to this, thought the words were addressed to the dairyman, but she was wrong. A

reply, in the shape of "Why?" came as it were out of the belly of a dun cow in the stalls; it had been spoken

"Oh yes; there's nothing like a fiddle," said the dairyman. "Though I do think that bulls are more moved by a

tune than cowsat least that's my experience. Once there was an old aged man over at MellstockWilliam

Dewy by nameone of the family that used to do a good deal of business as tranters over there, Jonathan, do

ye mind?I knowed the man by sight as well as I know my own brother, in a manner of speaking. Well, this

man was a coming homealong from a wedding where he had been playing his fiddle, one fine moonlight

night, and for shortness' sake he took a cut across Fortyacres, a field lying that way, where a bull was out to

grass. The bull seed William, and took after him, horns aground, begad; and though William runned his best,

and hadn't MUCH drink in him (considering 'twas a wedding, and the folks well off), he found he'd never

reach the fence and get over in time to save himself. Well, as a last thought, he pulled out his fiddle as he

runned, and struck up a jig, turning to the bull, and backing towards the corner. The bull softened down, and

stood still, looking hard at William Dewy, who fiddled on and on; till a sort of a smile stole over the bull's

face. But no sooner did William stop his playing and turn to get over hedge than the bull would stop his

smiling and lower his horns towards the seat of William's breeches. Well, William had to turn about and play

on, willynilly; and 'twas only three o'clock in the world, and 'a knowed that nobody would come that way

for hours, and he so leery and tired that 'a didn't know what to do. When he had scraped till about four o'clock

he felt that he verily would have to give over soon, and he said to himself, 'There's only this last tune between

me and eternal welfare! Heaven save me, or I'm a done man.' Well, then he called to mind how he'd seen the

cattle kneel o' Christmas Eves in the dead o' night. It was not Christmas Eve then, but it came into his head to

play a trick upon the bull. So he broke into the 'Tivity Hymm, just as at Christmas carolsinging; when, lo

and behold, down went the bull on his bended knees, in his ignorance, just as if 'twere the true 'Tivity night

and hour. As soon as his horned friend were down, William turned, clinked off like a longdog, and jumped

safe over hedge, before the praying bull had got on his feet again to take after him. William used to say that

he'd seen a man look a fool a good many times, but never such a fool as that bull looked when he found his

pious feelings had been played upon, and 'twas not Christmas Eve. ... Yes, William Dewy, that was the man's

name; and I can tell you to a foot where's he alying in Mellstock Churchyard at this very momentjust

"It's a curious story; it carries us back to medieval times, when faith was a living thing!"

The remark, singular for a dairyyard, was murmured by the voice behind the dun cow; but as nobody

understood the reference no notice was taken, except that the narrator seemed to think it might imply

Tess's attention was thus attracted to the dairyman's interlocutor, of whom she could see but the merest patch,

owing to his burying his head so persistently in the flank of the milcher. She could not understand why he

should be addressed as "sir" even by the dairyman himself. But no explanation was discernible; he remained

under to cow long enough to have milked three, uttering a private ejaculation now and then, as if he could not

"Take it gentle, sir; take it gentle," said the dairyman. "'Tis knack, not strength that does it."

"So I find," said the other, standing up at last and stretching his arms. "I think I have finished her, however,

Tess could then see him at full length. He wore the ordinary white pinner and leather leggings of a

dairyfarmer when milking, and his boots were clogged with the mulch of the yard; but this was all his local

But the details of his aspect were temporarily thrust aside by the discovery that he was one whom she had

seen before. Such vicissitudes had Tess passed through since that time that for a moment she could not

remember where she had met him; and then it flashed upon her that he was the pedestrian who had joined in

the clubdance at Marlottthe passing stranger who had come she knew not whence, had danced with

others but not with her, and slightingly left her, and gone on his way with his friends.

The flood of memories brought back by this revival of an incident anterior to her troubles produced a

momentary dismay lest, recognizing her also, he should by some means discover her story. But it passed

away when she found no sign of remembrance in him. She saw by degrees that since their first and only

encounter his mobile face had grown more thoughtful, and had acquired a young man's shapely moustache

and beardthe latter of the palest straw colour where it began upon his cheeks, and deepening to a warm

brown farther from its root. Under his linen milkingpinner he wore a dark velveteen jacket, cord breeches

and gaiters, and a starched white shirt. Without the milkinggear nobody could have guessed what he was.

He might with equal probability have been an eccentric landowner or a gentlemanly ploughman. That he was

but a novice at dairy work she had realized in a moment, from the time he had spent upon the milking of one

Meanwhile many of the milkmaids had said to one another of the newcomer, "How pretty she is!" with

something of real generosity and admiration, though with a half hope that the auditors would qualify the

assertionwhich, strictly speaking, they might have done, prettiness being an inexact definition of what

struck the eye in Tess. When the milking was finished for the evening they straggled indoors, where Mrs

Crick, the dairyman's wifewho was too respectable to go out milking herself, and wore a hot stuff gown in

warm weather because the dairymaids wore printswas giving an eye to the leads and things.

Only two or three of the maids, Tess learnt, slept in the dairyhouse besides herself; most of the helpers

going to their homes. She saw nothing at suppertime of the superior milker who had commented on the

story, and asked no questions about him, the remainder of the evening being occupied in arranging her place

in the bedchamber. It was a large room over the milkhouse, some thirty feet long; the sleepingcots of the

other three indoor milkmaids being in the same apartment. They were blooming young women, and, except

one, rather older than herself. By bedtime Tess was thoroughly tired, and fell asleep immediately.

But one of the girls who occupied an adjoining bed was more wakeful than Tess, and would insist upon

relating to the latter various particulars of the homestead into which she had just entered. The girl's whispered

words mingled with the shades, and, to Tess's drowsy mind, they seemed to be generated by the darkness in

"Mr Angel Clarehe that is learning milking, and that plays the harpnever says much to us. He is a

pa'son's son, and is too much taken up wi' his own thoughts to notice girls. He is the dairyman's

pupillearning farming in all its branches. He has learnt sheepfarming at another place, and he's now

mastering dairywork.... Yes, he is quite the gentlemanborn. His father is the Reverent Mr Clare at

"OhI have heard of him," said her companion, now awake. "A very earnest clergyman, is he not?"

"Yesthat he isthe earnestest man in all Wessex, they saythe last of the old Low Church sort, they tell

mefor all about here be what they call High. All his sons, except our Mr Clare, be made pa'sons too."

Tess had not at this hour the curiosity to ask why the present Mr Clare was not made a parson like his

brethren, and gradually fell asleep again, the words of her informant coming to her along with the smell of the

cheeses in the adjoining cheeseloft, and the measured dripping of the whey from the wrings downstairs.

Angel Clare rises out of the past not altogether as a distinct figure, but as an appreciative voice, a long regard

of fixed, abstracted eyes, and a mobility of mouth somewhat too small and delicately lined for a man's,

though with an unexpectedly firm close of the lower lip now and then; enough to do away with any inference

of indecision. Nevertheless, something nebulous, preoccupied, vague, in his bearing and regard, marked him

as one who probably had no very definite aim or concern about his material future. Yet as a lad people had

He was the youngest son of his father, a poor parson at the other end of the county, and had arrived at

Talbothays Dairy as a six months' pupil, after going the round of some other farms, his object being to

acquire a practical skill in the various processes of farming, with a view either to the Colonies, or the tenure

His entry into the ranks of the agriculturists and breeders was a step in the young man's career which had

Mr Clare the elder, whose first wife had died and left him a daughter, married a second late in life. This lady

had somewhat unexpectedly brought him three sons, so that between Angel, the youngest, and his father the

Vicar there seemed to be almost a missing generation. Of these boys the aforesaid Angel, the child of his old

age, was the only son who had not taken a University degree, though he was the single one of them whose

Some two or three years before Angel's appearance at the Marlott dance, on a day when he had left school

and was pursuing his studies at home, a parcel came to the Vicarage from the local bookseller's, directed to

the Reverend James Clare. The Vicar having opened it and found it to contain a book, read a few pages;

whereupon he jumped up from his seat and went straight to the shop with the book under his arm.

"Why has this been sent to my house?" he asked peremptorily, holding up the volume.

"Oh, it has been misdirected, sir," he said. "It was ordered by Mr Angel Clare, and should have been sent to

Mr Clare winced as if he had been struck. He went home pale and dejected, and called Angel into his study.

"How can I? Whyit is a system of philosophy. There is no more moral, or even religious, work published."

"Yesmoral enough; I don't deny that. But religious!and for YOU, who intend to be a minister of the

"Since you have alluded to the matter, father," said the son, with anxious thought upon his face, "I should like

to say, once for all, that I should prefer not to take Orders. I fear I could not conscientiously do so. I love the

Church as one loves a parent. I shall always have the warmest affection for her. There is no institution for

whose history I have a deeper admiration; but I cannot honestly be ordained her minister, as my brothers are,

It had never occurred to the straightforward and simpleminded Vicar that one of his own flesh and blood

could come to this! He was stultified, shocked, paralysed. And if Angel were not going to enter the Church,

what was the use of sending him to Cambridge? The University as a step to anything but ordination seemed,

to this man of fixed ideas, a preface without a volume. He was a man not merely religious, but devout; a firm

believernot as the phrase is now elusively construed by theological thimbleriggers in the Church and out

Indeed opine That the Eternal and Divine Did, eighteen centuries ago In very truth...

"No, father; I cannot underwrite Article Four (leave alone the rest), taking it 'in the literal and grammatical

sense' as required by the Declaration; and, therefore, I can't be a parson in the present state of affairs," said

Angel. "My whole instinct in matters of religion is towards reconstruction; to quote your favorite Epistle to

"What is the good of your mother and me economizing and stinting ourselves to give you a University

education, if it is not to be used for the honour and glory of God?" his father repeated.

Perhaps if Angel had persevered he might have gone to Cambridge like his brothers. But the Vicar's view of

that seat of learning as a steppingstone to Orders alone was quite a family tradition; and so rooted was the

idea in his mind that perseverance began to appear to the sensitive son akin to an intent to misappropriate a

trust, and wrong the pious heads of the household, who had been and were, as his father had hinted,

compelled to exercise much thrift to carry out his uniform plan of education for the three young men.

"I will do without Cambridge," said Angel at last. "I feel that I have no right to go there in the

The effects of this decisive debate were not long in showing themselves. He spent years and years in

desultory studies, undertakings, and meditations; he began to evince considerable indifference to social forms

and observances. The material distinctions of rank and wealth he increasingly despised. Even the "good old

family" (to use a favourite phrase of a late local worthy) had no aroma for him unless there were good new

resolutions in its representatives. As a balance to these austerities, when he went to live in London to see

what the world was like, and with a view to practising a profession or business there, he was carried off his

head, and nearly entrapped by a woman much older than himself, though luckily he escaped not greatly the

Early association with country solitudes had bred in him an unconquerable, and almost unreasonable,

aversion to modern town life, and shut him out from such success as he might have aspired to by following a

mundane calling in the impracticability of the spiritual one. But something had to be done; he had wasted

many valuable years; and having an acquaintance who was starting on a thriving life as a Colonial farmer, it

occurred to Angel that this might be a lead in the right direction. Farming, either in the Colonies, America, or

at homefarming, at any rate, after becoming well qualified for the business by a careful

apprenticeshipthat was a vocation which would probably afford an independence without the sacrifice of

So we find Angel Clare at sixandtwenty here at Talbothays as a student of kine, and, as there were no

houses near at hand in which he could get a comfortable lodging, a boarder at the dairyman's.

His room was an immense attic which ran the whole length of the dairyhouse. It could only be reached by a

ladder from the cheeseloft, and had been closed up for a long time till he arrived and selected it as his

retreat. Here Clare had plenty of space, and could often be heard by the dairyfolk pacing up and down when

the household had gone to rest. A portion was divided off at one end by a curtain, behind which was his bed,

At first he lived up above entirely, reading a good deal, and strumming upon an old harp which he had bought

at a sale, saying when in a bitter humour that he might have to get his living by it in the streets some day. But

he soon preferred to read human nature by taking his meals downstairs in the general diningkitchen, with

the dairyman and his wife, and the maids and men, who all together formed a lively assembly; for though but

few milking hands slept in the house, several joined the family at meals. The longer Clare resided here the

less objection had he to his company, and the more did he like to share quarters with them in common.

Much to his surprise he took, indeed, a real delight in their companionship. The conventional farmfolk of

his imaginationpersonified in the newspaperpress by the pitiable dummy known as Hodgewere

obliterated after a few days' residence. At close quarters no Hodge was to be seen. At first, it is true, when

Clare's intelligence was fresh from a contrasting society, these friends with whom he now hobnobbed seemed

a little strange. Sitting down as a level member of the dairyman's household seemed at the outset an

undignified proceeding. The ideas, the modes, the surroundings, appeared retrogressive and unmeaning. But

with living on there, day after day, the acute sojourner became conscious of a new aspect in the spectacle.

Without any objective change whatever, variety had taken the place of monotonousness. His host and his

host's household, his men and his maids, as they became intimately known to Clare, began to differentiate

themselves as in a chemical process. The thought of Pascal's was brought home to him: "A MESURE QU'ON

COMMUN NE TROUVENT PAS DE DIFFERENCE ENTRE LES HOMMES." The typical and unvarying

Hodge ceased to exist. He had been disintegrated into a number of varied fellowcreaturesbeings of many

minds, beings infinite in difference; some happy, many serene, a few depressed, one here and there bright

even to genius, some stupid, others wanton, others austere; some mutely Miltonic, some potentially

Cromwellian; into men who had private views of each other, as he had of his friends; who could applaud or

condemn each other, amuse or sadden themselves by the contemplation of each other's foibles or vices; men

Unexpectedly he began to like the outdoor life for its own sake, and for what it brought, apart from its

bearing on his own proposed career. Considering his position he became wonderfully free from the chronic

melancholy which is taking hold of the civilized races with the decline of belief in a beneficent Power. For

the first time of late years he could read as his musings inclined him, without any eye to cramming for a

profession, since the few farming handbooks which he deemed it desirable to master occupied him but little

He grew away from old associations, and saw something new in life and humanity. Secondarily, he made

close acquaintance with phenomena which he had before known but darklythe seasons in their moods,

morning and evening, night and noon, winds in their different tempers, trees, waters and mists, shades and

The early mornings were still sufficiently cool to render a fire acceptable in the large room wherein they

breakfasted; and, by Mrs Crick's orders, who held that he was too genteel to mess at their table, it was Angel

Clare's custom to sit in the yawning chimneycorner during the meal, his cupandsaucer and plate being

placed on a hinged flap at his elbow. The light from the long, wide, mullioned window opposite shone in

upon his nook, and, assisted by a secondary light of cold blue quality which shone down the chimney,

enabled him to read there easily whenever disposed to do so. Between Clare and the window was the table at

which his companions sat, their munching profiles rising sharp against the panes; while to the side was the

milkhouse door, through which were visible the rectangular leads in rows, full to the brim with the

morning's milk. At the further end the great churn could be seen revolving, and its slipslopping heardthe

moving power being discernible through the window in the form of a spiritless horse walking in a circle and

For several days after Tess's arrival Clare, sitting abstractedly reading from some book, periodical, or piece of

music just come by post, hardly noticed that she was present at table. She talked so little, and the other maids

talked so much, that the babble did not strike him as possessing a new note, and he was ever in the habit of

neglecting the particulars of an outward scene for the general impression. One day, however, when he had

been conning one of his musicscores, and by force of imagination was hearing the tune in his head, he

lapsed into listlessness, and the musicsheet rolled to the hearth. He looked at the fire of logs, with its one

flame pirouetting on the top in a dying dance after the breakfastcooking and boiling, and it seemed to jig to

his inward tune; also at the two chimney crooks dangling down from the cotterel or crossbar, plumed with

soot which quivered to the same melody; also at the halfempty kettle whining an accompaniment. The

conversation at the table mixed in with his phantasmal orchestra till he thought: "What a fluty voice one of

She was not looking towards him. Indeed, owing to his long silence, his presence in the room was almost

"I don't know about ghosts," she was saying; "but I do know that our souls can be made to go outside our

The dairyman turned to her with his mouth full, his eyes charged with serious inquiry, and his great knife and

fork (breakfasts were breakfasts here) planted erect on the table, like the beginning of a gallows.

"A very easy way to feel 'em go," continued Tess, "is to lie on the grass at night and look straight up at some

big bright star; and, by fixing your mind upon it, you will soon find that you are hundreds and hundreds o'

"Now that's a rum thing, Christiannerhey? To think o' the miles I've vamped o' starlight nights these last

thirty year, courting, or trading, or for doctor, or for nurse, and yet never had the least notion o' that till now,

The general attention being drawn to her, including that of the dairyman's pupil, Tess flushed, and remarking

Clare continued to observe her. She soon finished her eating, and having a consciousness that Clare was

regarding her, began to trace imaginary patterns on the tablecloth with her forefinger with the constraint of a

"What a fresh and virginal daughter of Nature that milkmaid is!" he said to himself.

And then he seemed to discern in her something that was familiar, something which carried him back into a

joyous and unforeseeing past, before the necessity of taking thought had made the heavens gray. He

concluded that he had beheld her before; where he could not tell. A casual encounter during some country

ramble it certainly had been, and he was not greatly curious about it. But the circumstance was sufficient to

lead him to select Tess in preference to the other pretty milkmaids when he wished to contemplate contiguous

In general the cows were milked as they presented themselves, without fancy or choice. But certain cows will

show a fondness for a particular pair of hands, sometimes carrying this predilection so far as to refuse to

stand at all except to their favourite, the pail of a stranger being unceremoniously kicked over.

It was Dairyman Crick's rule to insist on breaking down these partialities and aversions by constant

interchange, since otherwise, in the event of a milkman or maid going away from the dairy, he was placed in

a difficulty. The maids' private aims, however, were the reverse of the dairyman's rule, the daily selection by

each damsel of the eight or ten cows to which she had grown accustomed rendering the operation on their

Tess, like her compeers, soon discovered which of the cows had a preference for her style of manipulation,

and her fingers having become delicate from the long domiciliary imprisonments to which she had subjected

herself at intervals during the last two or three years, she would have been glad to meet the milchers' views in

this respect. Out of the whole ninetyfive there were eight in particularDumpling, Fancy, Lofty, Mist, Old

Pretty, Young Pretty, Tidy, and Loudwho, though the teats of one or two were as hard as carrots, gave

down to her with a readiness that made her work on them a mere touch of the fingers. Knowing, however, the

dairyman's wish, she endeavoured conscientiously to take the animals just as they came, expecting the very

But she soon found a curious correspondence between the ostensibly chance position of the cows and her

wishes in this matter, till she felt that their order could not be the result of accident. The dairyman's pupil had

lent a hand in getting the cows together of late, and at the fifth or sixth time she turned her eyes, as she rested

"Mr Clare, you have ranged the cows!" she said, blushing; and in making the accusation symptoms of a smile

gently lifted her upper lip in spite of her, so as to show the tips of her teeth, the lower lip remaining severely

"Well, it makes no difference," said he. "You will always be here to milk them."

She was angry with herself afterwards, thinking that he, unaware of her grave reasons for liking this

seclusion, might have mistaken her meaning. She had spoken so earnestly to him, as if his presence were

somehow a factor in her wish. Her misgiving was such that at dusk, when the milking was over, she walked

in the garden alone, to continue her regrets that she had disclosed to him her discovery of his considerateness.

It was a typical summer evening in June, the atmosphere being in such delicate equilibrium and so

transmissive that inanimate objects seemed endowed with two or three senses, if not five. There was no

distinction between the near and the far, and an auditor felt close to everything within the horizon. The

soundlessness impressed her as a positive entity rather than as the mere negation of noise. It was broken by

the strumming of strings. Tess had heard those notes in the attic above her head. Dim, flattened, constrained

by their confinement, they had never appealed to her as now, when they wandered in the still air with a stark

quality like that of nudity. To speak absolutely, both instrument and execution were poor; but the relative is

all, and as she listened Tess, like a fascinated bird, could not leave the spot. Far from leaving she drew up

towards the performer, keeping behind the hedge that he might not guess her presence.

The outskirt of the garden in which Tess found herself had been left uncultivated for some years, and was

now damp and rank with juicy grass which sent up mists of pollen at a touch; and with tall blooming weeds

emitting offensive smellsweeds whose red and yellow and purple hues formed a polychrome as dazzling as

that of cultivated flowers. She went stealthily as a cat through this profusion of growth, gathering

cuckoospittle on her skirts, cracking snails that were underfoot, staining her hands with thistlemilk and

slugslime, and rubbing off upon her naked arms sticky blights which, though snowwhite on the appletree

trunks, made madder stains on her skin; thus she drew quite near to Clare, still unobserved of him.

Tess was conscious of neither time nor space. The exaltation which she had described as being producible at

will by gazing at a star, came now without any determination of hers; she undulated upon the thin notes of the

secondhand harp, and their harmonies passed like breezes through her, bringing tears into her eyes. The

floating pollen seemed to be his notes made visible, and the dampness of the garden the weeping of the

garden's sensibility. Though near nightfall, the ranksmelling weedflowers glowed as if they would not

The light which still shone was derived mainly from a large hole in the western bank of cloud; it was like a

piece of day left behind by accident, dusk having closed in elsewhere. He concluded his plaintive melody, a

very simple performance, demanding no great skill; and she waited, thinking another might be begun. But,

tired of playing, he had desultorily come round the fence, and was rambling up behind her. Tess, her cheeks

Angel, however, saw her light summer gown, and he spoke; his low tones reaching her, though he was some

"Oh no, sir ... not of outdoor things; especially just now when the appleblooth is falling, and everything is so

"Ahso have I, very often. This hobble of being alive is rather serious, don't you think so?"

"All the same, I shouldn't have expected a young girl like you to see it so just yet. How is it you do?"

She thought that he meant what were the aspects of things to her, and replied shyly

"The trees have inquisitive eyes, haven't they?that is, seem as if they had. And the river says,'Why do ye

trouble me with your looks?' And you seem to see numbers of tomorrows just all in a line, the first of them

the biggest and clearest, the others getting smaller and smaller as they stand farther away; but they all seem

very fierce and cruel and as if they said, 'I'm coming! Beware of me! Beware of me!' ... But YOU, sir, can

He was surprised to find this young womanwho though but a milkmaid had just that touch of rarity about

her which might make her the envied of her housematesshaping such sad imaginings. She was expressing

in her own native phrasesassisted a little by her Sixth Standard trainingfeelings which might almost

have been called those of the agethe ache of modernism. The perception arrested him less when he

reflected that what are called advanced ideas are really in great part but the latest fashion in definitiona

more accurate expression, by words in LOGY and ISM, of sensations which men and women have vaguely

Still, it was strange that they should have come to her while yet so young; more than strange; it was

impressive, interesting, pathetic. Not guessing the cause, there was nothing to remind him that experience is

as to intensity, and not as to duration. Tess's passing corporeal blight had been her mental harvest.

Tess, on her part, could not understand why a man of clerical family and good education, and above physical

want, should look upon it as a mishap to be alive. For the unhappy pilgrim herself there was very good

reason. But how could this admirable and poetic man ever have descended into the Valley of Humiliation,

have felt with the man of Uzas she herself had felt two or three years ago'My soul chooseth strangling

It was true that he was at present out of his class. But she knew that was only because, like Peter the Great in

a shipwright's yard, he was studying what he wanted to know. He did not milk cows because he was obliged

to milk cows, but because he was learning to be a rich and prosperous dairyman, landowner, agriculturist, and

breeder of cattle. He would become an American or Australian Abraham, commanding like a monarch his

flocks and his herds, his spotted and his ringstraked, his menservants and his maids. At times,

nevertheless, it did seem unaccountable to her that a decidedly bookish, musical, thinking young man should

have chosen deliberately to be a farmer, and not a clergyman, like his father and brothers.

Thus, neither having the clue to the other's secret, they were respectively puzzled at what each revealed, and

awaited new knowledge of each other's character and mood without attempting to pry into each other's

Every day, every hour, brought to him one more little stroke of her nature, and to her one more of his. Tess

was trying to lead a repressed life, but she little divined the strength of her own vitality.

At first Tess seemed to regard Angel Clare as an intelligence rather than as a man. As such she compared him

with herself; and at every discovery of the abundance of his illuminations, and the unmeasurable, Andean

altitude of his, she became quite dejected, disheartened from all further effort on her own part whatever.

He observed her dejection one day, when he had casually mentioned something to her about pastoral life in

ancient Greece. She was gathering the buds called "lords and ladies" from the bank while he spoke.

"Oh, 'tis onlyabout my own self," she said, with a frail laugh of sadness, fitfully beginning to peel "a lady"

meanwhile. "Just a sense of what might have been with me! My life looks as if it had been wasted for want of

chances! When I see what you know, what you have read, and seen, and thought, I feel what a nothing I am!

I'm like the poor Queen of Sheba who lived in the Bible. There is no more spirit in me."

"Bless my soul, don't go troubling about that! Why," he said with some enthusiasm, "I should be only too

glad, my dear Tess, to help you to anything in the way of history, or any line of reading you would like to

"I meant that there are always more ladies than lords when you come to peel them."

"Never mind about the lords and ladies. Would you like to take up any course of studyhistory, for

"Sometimes I feel I don't want to know anything more about it than I know already."

"Because what's the use of learning that I am one of a long row onlyfinding out that there is set down in

some old book somebody just like me, and to know that I shall only act her part; making me sad, that's all.

The best is not to remember that your nature and your past doings have been just like thousands' and

thousands', and that your coming life and doings 'll be like thousands's and thousands'."

"I shouldn't mind learning whywhy the sun do shine on the just and the unjust alike," she answered, with a

slight quaver in her voice. "But that's what books will not tell me." "Tess, fie for such bitterness!" Of course

he spoke with a conventional sense of duty only, for that sort of wondering had not been unknown to himself

in bygone days. And as he looked at the unpracticed mouth and lips, he thought that such a daughter of the

soil could only have caught up the sentiment by rote. She went on peeling the lords and ladies till Clare,

regarding for a moment the wavelike curl of her lashes as they dropped with her bent gaze on her soft

cheek, lingeringly went away. When he was gone she stood awhile, thoughtfully peeling the last bud; and

then, awakening from her reverie, flung it and all the crowd of floral nobility impatiently on the ground, in an

ebullition of displeasure with herself for her NIAISERIES, and with a quickening warmth in her heart of

How stupid he must think her! In an access of hunger for his good opinion she bethought herself of what she

had latterly endeavoured to forget, so unpleasant had been its issuesthe identity of her family with that of

the knightly d'Urbervilles. Barren attribute as it was, disastrous as its discovery had been in many ways to

her, perhaps Mr Clare, as a gentleman and a student of history, would respect her sufficiently to forget her

childish conduct with the lords and ladies if he knew that those Purbeckmarble and alabaster people in

Kingsbere Church really represented her own lineal forefathers; that she was no spurious d'Urberville,

compounded of money and ambition like those at Trantridge, but true d'Urberville to the bone.

But, before venturing to make the revelation, dubious Tess indirectly sounded the dairyman as to its possible

effect upon Mr Clare, by asking the former if Mr Clare had any great respect for old county families when

"Mr Clare," said the dairyman emphatically, "is one of the most rebellest rozums you ever knowednot a bit

like the rest of his family; and if there's one thing that he do hate more than another 'tis the notion of what's

called a' old family. He says that it stands to reason that old families have done their spurt of work in past

days, and can't have anything left in 'em now. There's the Billets and the Drenkhards and the Greys and the St

Quintins and the Hardys and the Goulds, who used to own the lands for miles down this valley; you could

buy 'em all up now for an old song a'most. Why, our little Retty Priddle here, you know, is one of the

Paridellesthe old family that used to own lots o' the lands out by King's Hintock now owned by the Earl o'

Wessex, afore even he or his was heard of. Well, Mr Clare found this out, and spoke quite scornful to the

poor girl for days. 'Ah!' he says to her, 'you'll never make a good dairymaid! All your skill was used up ages

ago in Palestine, and you must lie fallow for a thousand years to git strength for more deeds!' A boy came

here t'other day asking for a job, and said his name was Matt, and when we asked him his surname he said

he'd never heard that 'a had any surname, and when we asked why, he said he supposed his folks hadn't been

'stablished long enough. 'Ah! you're the very boy I want!' says Mr Clare, jumping up and shaking hands

wi'en; 'I've great hopes of you;' and gave him halfacrown. O no! he can't stomach old families!'

After hearing this caricature of Clare's opinion poor Tess was glad that she had not said a word in a weak

moment about her familyeven though it was so unusually old almost to have gone round the circle and

become a new one. Besides, another diarygirl was as good as she, it seemed, in that respect. She held her

tongue about the d'Urberville vault, the Knight of the Conqueror whose name she bore. The insight afforded

into Clare's character suggested to her that it was largely owing to her supposed untraditional newness that

The season developed and matured. Another year's instalment of flowers, leaves, nightingales, thrushes,

finches, and such ephemeral creatures, took up their positions where only a year ago others had stood in their

place when these were nothing more than germs and inorganic particles. Rays from the sunrise drew forth the

buds and stretched them into long stalks, lifted up sap in noiseless streams, opened petals, and sucked out

Dairyman Crick's household of maids and men lived on comfortably, placidly, even merrily. Their position

was perhaps the happiest of all positions in the social scale, being above the line at which neediness ends, and

below the line at which the CONVENANCES begin to cramp natural feelings, and the stress of threadbare

Thus passed the leafy time when arborescence seems to be the one thing aimed at out of doors. Tess and

Clare unconsciously studied each other, ever balanced on the edge of a passion, yet apparently keeping out of

it. All the while they were converging, under an irresistible law, as surely as two streams in one vale.

Tess had never in her recent life been so happy as she was now, possibly never would be so happy again. She

was, for one thing, physically and mentally suited among these new surroundings. The sapling which had

rooted down to a poisonous stratum on the spot of its sowing had been transplanted to a deeper soil.

Moreover she, and Clare also, stood as yet on the debatable land between predilection and love; where no

profundities have been reached; no reflections have set in, awkwardly inquiring, "Whither does this new

current tend to carry me? What does it mean to my future? How does it stand towards my past?"

Tess was the merest stray phenomenon to Angel Clare as yeta rosy warming apparition which had only

just acquired the attribute of persistence in his consciousness. So he allowed his mind to be occupied with

her, deeming his preoccupation to be no more than a philosopher's regard of an exceedingly novel, fresh, and

They met continually; they could not help it. They met daily in that strange and solemn interval, the twilight

of the morning, in the violet or pink dawn; for it was necessary to rise early, so very early, here. Milking was

done betimes; and before the milking came the skimming, which began at a little past three. It usually fell to

the lot of some one or other of them to wake the rest, the first being aroused by an alarmclock; and, as Tess

was the latest arrival, and they soon discovered that she could be depended upon not to sleep though the

alarm as others did, this task was thrust most frequently upon her. No sooner had the hour of three struck and

whizzed, than she left her room and ran to the dairyman's door; then up the ladder to Angel's, calling him in a

loud whisper; then woke her fellowmilkmaids. By the time that Tess was dressed Clare was downstairs and

out in the humid air. The remaining maids and the dairyman usually gave themselves another turn on the

The gray halftones of daybreak are not the gray halftones of the day's close, though the degree of their

shade may be the same. In the twilight of the morning light seems active, darkness passive; in the twilight of

evening it is the darkness which is active and crescent, and the light which is the drowsy reverse.

Being so oftenpossibly not always by chancethe first two persons to get up at the dairyhouse, they

seemed to themselves the first persons up of all the world. In these early days of her residence here Tess did

not skim, but went out of doors at once after rising, where he was generally awaiting her. The spectral,

halfcompounded, aqueous light which pervaded the open mead, impressed them with a feeling of isolation,

as if they were Adam and Eve. At this dim inceptive stage of the day Tess seemed to Clare to exhibit a

dignified largeness both of disposition and physique, an almost regnant power, possibly because he knew that

at that preternatural time hardly any woman so well endowed in person as she was likely to be walking in the

open air within the boundaries of his horizon; very few in all England. Fair women are usually asleep at

The mixed, singular, luminous gloom in which they walked along together to the spot where the cows lay,

often made him think of the Resurrection hour. He little thought that the Magdalen might be at his side.

Whilst all the landscape was in neutral shade his companion's face, which was the focus of his eyes, rising

above the mist stratum, seemed to have a sort of phosphorescence upon it. She looked ghostly, as if she were

merely a soul at large. In reality her face, without appearing to do so, had caught the cold gleam of day from

the northeast; his own face, though he did not think of it, wore the same aspect to her.

It was then, as has been said, that she impressed him most deeply. She was no longer the milkmaid, but a

visionary essence of womana whole sex condensed into one typical form. He called her Artemis, Demeter,

and other fanciful names half teasingly, which she did not like because she did not understand them.

Then it would grow lighter, and her features would become simply feminine; they had changed from those of

At these nonhuman hours they could get quite close to the waterfowl. Herons came, with a great bold noise

as of opening doors and shutters, out of the boughs of a plantation which they frequented at the side of the

mead; or, if already on the spot, hardily maintained their standing in the water as the pair walked by,

watching them by moving their heads round in a slow, horizontal, passionless wheel, like the turn of puppets

They could then see the faint summer fogs in layers, woolly, level, and apparently no thicker than

counterpanes, spread about the meadows in detached remnants of small extent. On the gray moisture of the

grass were marks where the cows had lain through the nightdarkgreen islands of dry herbage the size of

their carcasses, in the general sea of dew. From each island proceeded a serpentine trail, by which the cow

had rambled away to feed after getting up, at the end of which trail they found her; the snoring puff from her

nostrils, when she recognized them, making an intenser little fog of her own amid the prevailing one. Then

they drove the animals back to the barton, or sat down to milk them on the spot, as the case might require.

Or perhaps the summer fog was more general, and the meadows lay like a white sea, out of which the

scattered trees rose like dangerous rocks. Birds would soar through it into the upper radiance, and hang on the

wing sunning themselves, or alight on the wet rails subdividing the mead, which now shone like glass rods.

Minute diamonds of moisture from the mist hung, too, upon Tess's eyelashes, and drops upon her hair, like

seed pearls. When the day grew quite strong and commonplace these dried off her; moreover, Tess then lost

her strange and ethereal beauty; her teeth, lips, and eyes scintillated in the sunbeams and she was again the

dazzlingly fair dairymaid only, who had to hold her own against the other women of the world.

About this time they would hear Dairyman Crick's voice, lecturing the nonresident milkers for arriving late,

"For Heaven's sake, pop thy hands under the pump, Deb! Upon my soul, if the London folk only knowed of

thee and thy slovenly ways, they'd swaller their milk and butter more mincing than they do a'ready; and that's

The milking progressed, till towards the end Tess and Clare, in common with the rest, could hear the heavy

breakfast table dragged out from the wall in the kitchen by Mrs Crick, this being the invariable preliminary to

each meal; the same horrible scrape accompanying its return journey when the table had been cleared.

There was a great stir in the milkhouse just after breakfast. The churn revolved as usual, but the butter

would not come. Whenever this happened the dairy was paralyzed. Squish, squash, echoed the milk in the

Dairyman Crick and his wife, the milkmaids Tess, Marian, Retty Priddle, Izz Huett, and the married ones

from the cottages; also Mr Clare, Jonathan Kail, old Deborah, and the rest, stood gazing hopelessly at the

churn; and the boy who kept the horse going outside put on moonlike eyes to show his sense of the

situation. Even the melancholy horse himself seemed to look in at the window in inquiring despair at each

"'Tis years since I went to Conjuror Trendle's son in Egdonyears!" said the dairyman bitterly. "And he was

nothing to what his father had been. I have said fifty times, if I have said once, that I DON'T believe in en;

though 'a do cast folks' waters very true. But I shall have to go to 'n if he's alive. O yes, I shall have to go to

"Conjuror Fall, t'other side of Casterbridge, that they used to call 'WideO', was a very good man when I was

"My grandfather used to go to Conjuror Mynterne, out at Owlscombe, and a clever man a' were, so I've heard

grandf'er say," continued Mr Crick. "But there's no such genuine folk about nowadays!"

"Perhaps somebody in the house is in love," she said tentatively. "I've heard tell in my younger days that that

will cause it. Why, Crickthat maid we had years ago, do ye mind, and how the butter didn't come then"

"Ah yes, yes!but that isn't the rights o't. It had nothing to do with the lovemaking. I can mind all about

"Jack Dollop, a 'hore'sbird of a fellow we had here as milker at one time, sir, courted a young woman over

at Mellstock, and deceived her as he had deceived many afore. But he had another sort o' woman to reckon

wi' this time, and it was not the girl herself. One Holy Thursday of all days in the almanack, we was here as

we mid be now, only there was no churning in hand, when we zid the girl's mother coming up to the door, wi'

a great brassmounted umbrella in her hand that would ha' felled an ox, and saying 'Do Jack Dollop work

here?because I want him! I have a big bone to pick with he, I can assure 'n!' And some way behind her

mother walked Jack's young woman, crying bitterly into her handkercher. 'O Lard, here's a time!' said Jack,

looking out o' winder at 'em. 'She'll murder me! Where shall I getwhere shall I? Don't tell her where I

be!' And with that he scrambled into the churn through the trapdoor, and shut himself inside, just as the

young woman's mother busted into the milkhouse. 'The villainwhere is he?' says she, 'I'll claw his face

for'n, let me only catch him!' Well, she hunted about everywhere, ballyragging Jack by side and by seam,

Jack lying a'most stifled inside the churn, and the poor maidor young woman ratherstanding at the door

crying her eyes out. I shall never forget it, never! 'Twould have melted a marble stone! But she couldn't find

Dairyman Crick's stories often seemed to be ended when they were not really so, and strangers were betrayed

into premature interjections of finality; though old friends knew better. The narrator went on

"Well, how the old woman should have had the wit to guess it I could never tell, but she found out that he

was inside that there churn. Without saying a word she took hold of the winch (it was turned by handpower

then), and round she swung him, and Jack began to flop about inside. 'O Lard! stop the churn! let me out!'

says he, popping out his head, 'I shall be churned into a pummy!' (he was a cowardly chap in his heart, as

such men mostly be). 'Not till ye make amends for ravaging her virgin innocence!' says the old woman. 'Stop

the churn you old witch!' screams he. 'You call me old witch, do ye, you deceiver!' says she, 'when ye ought

to ha' been calling me motherlaw these last five months!' And on went the churn, and Jack's bones rattled

round again. Well, none of us ventured to interfere; and at last 'a promised to make it right wi' her. 'YesI'll

While the listeners were smiling their comments there was a quick movement behind their backs, and they

It was warm, and none of them connected her withdrawal with the reminiscences of the dairyman. He went

"Why, maidy" (he frequently, with unconscious irony, gave her this pet name), "the prettiest milker I've got

in my dairy; you mustn't get so fagged as this at the first breath of summer weather, or we shall be finely put

"I was faintandI think I am better out o' doors," she said mechanically; and disappeared outside.

Fortunately for her the milk in the revolving churn at that moment changed its squashing for a decided

"'Tis coming!" cried Mrs Crick, and the attention of all was called off from Tess.

That fair sufferer soon recovered herself externally; but she remained much depressed all the afternoon.

When the evening milking was done she did not care to be with the rest of them, and went out of doors

wandering along she knew not whither. She was wretchedO so wretchedat the perception that to her

companions the dairyman's story had been rather a humorous narration than otherwise; none of them but

herself seemed to see the sorrow of it; to a certainty, not one knew how cruelly it touched the tender place in

her experience. The evening sun was now ugly to her, like a great inflamed wound in the sky. Only a solitary

crackedvoice reedsparrow greeted her from the bushes by the river, in a sad, machinemade tone,

In these long June days the milkmaids, and, indeed, most of the household, went to bed at sunset or sooner,

the morning work before milking being so early and heavy at a time of full pairs. Tess usually accompanied

her fellows upstairs. Tonight, however, she was the first to go to their common chamber; and she had dozed

when the other girls came in. She saw them undressing in the orange light of the vanished sun, which flushed

their forms with its colour; she dozed again, but she was reawakened by their voices, and quietly turned her

Neither of her three chambercompanions had got into bed. They were standing in a group, in their

nightgowns, barefooted, at the window, the last red rays of the west still warming their faces and necks, and

the walls around them. All were watching somebody in the garden with deep interest, their three faces close

together: a jovial and round one, a pale one with dark hair, and a fair one whose tresses were auburn.

"Don't push! You can see as well as I," said Retty, the auburnhaired and youngest girl, without removing

"'Tis no use for you to be in love with him any more than me, Retty Priddle," said jollyfaced Marian, the

"There he is again!" cried Izz Huett, the pale girl with dark damp hair and keenly cut lips.

"You needn't say anything, Izz," answered Retty. "For I zid you kissing his shade."

"Whyhe was standing over the wheytub to let off the whey, and the shade of his face came upon the wall

behind, close to Izz, who was standing there filling a vat. She put her mouth against the wall and kissed the

"Well, there was no harm in it," she declared, with attempted coolness. "And if I be in love wi'en, so is Retty,

"I!" she said. "What a tale! Ah, there he is again! Dear eyesdear facedear Mr Clare!"

"So have youso have we all," said Marian, with the dry frankness of complete indifference to opinion. "It

is silly to pretend otherwise amongst ourselves, though we need not own it to other folks. I would just marry

"We shan't, either of us; which is worse still," said the eldest. "There he is again!"

"Because he likes Tess Durbeyfield best," said Marian, lowering her voice. "I have watched him every day,

"But how silly all this is!" said Izz Huett impatiently. "Of course he won't marry any one of us, or Tess

eithera gentleman's son, who's going to be a great landowner and farmer abroad! More likely to ask us to

One sighed, and another sighed, and Marian's plump figure sighed biggest of all. Somebody in bed hard by

sighed too. Tears came into the eyes of Retty Priddle, the pretty redhaired youngestthe last bud of the

Paridelles, so important in the county annals. They watched silently a little longer, their three faces still close

together as before, and the triple hues of their hair mingling. But the unconscious Mr Clare had gone indoors,

and they saw him no more; and, the shades beginning to deepen, they crept into their beds. In a few minutes

they heard him ascend the ladder to his own room. Marian was soon snoring, but Izz did not drop into

The deeperpassioned Tess was very far from sleeping even then. This conversation was another of the bitter

pills she had been obliged to swallow that day. Scarce the least feeling of jealousy arose in her breast. For

that matter she knew herself to have the preference. Being more finely formed, better educated, and, though

the youngest except Retty, more woman than either, she perceived that only the slightest ordinary care was

necessary for holding her own in Angel Clare's heart against these her candid friends. But the grave question

was, ought she to do this? There was, to be sure, hardly a ghost of a chance for either of them, in a serious

sense; but there was, or had been, a chance of one or the other inspiring him with a passing fancy for her, and

enjoying the pleasure of his attentions while he stayed here. Such unequal attachments had led to marriage;

and she had heard from Mrs Crick that Mr Clare had one day asked, in a laughing way, what would be the

use of his marrying a fine lady, and all the while ten thousand acres of Colonial pasture to feed, and cattle to

rear, and corn to reap. A farmwoman would be the only sensible kind of wife for him. But whether Mr Clare

had spoken seriously or not, why should she, who could never conscientiously allow any man to marry her

now, and who had religiously determined that she never would be tempted to do so, draw off Mr Clare's

attention from other women, for the brief happiness of sunning herself in his eyes while he remained at

They came downstairs yawning next morning; but skimming and milking were proceeded with as usual, and

they went indoors to breakfast. Dairyman Crick was discovered stamping about the house. He had received a

"And begad, so 't have!" said the dairyman, who held in his left hand a wooden slice on which a lump of

Several of them gathered round him; and Mr Clare tasted, Tess tasted, also the other indoor milkmaids, one or

two of the milkingmen, and last of all Mrs Crick, who came out from the waiting breakfasttable. There

The dairyman, who had thrown himself into abstraction to better realize the taste, and so divine the particular

Then all the old hands remembered that a certain dry mead, into which a few of the cows had been admitted

of late, had, in years gone by, spoilt the butter in the same way. The dairyman had not recognized the taste at

All having armed themselves with old pointed knives they went out together. As the inimical plant could only

be present in very microscopic dimensions to have escaped ordinary observation, to find it seemed rather a

hopeless attempt in the stretch of rich grass before them. However, they formed themselves into line, all

assisting, owing to the importance of the search; the dairyman at the upper end with Mr Clare, who had

volunteered to help; then Tess, Marian, Izz Huett, and Retty; then Bill Lewell, Jonathan, and the married

dairywomenBeck Knibbs, with her wooly black hair and rolling eyes; and flaxen Frances, consumptive

With eyes fixed upon the ground they crept slowly across a strip of the field, returning a little further down in

such a manner that, when they should have finished, not a single inch of the pasture but would have fallen

under the eye of some one of them. It was a most tedious business, not more than half a dozen shoots of

garlic being discoverable in the whole field; yet such was the herb's pungency that probably one bite of it by

Differing one from another in natures and moods so greatly as they did, they yet formed, bending, a curiously

uniform rowautomatic, noiseless; and an alien observer passing down the neighbouring lane might well

have been excused for massing them as "Hodge". As they crept along, stooping low to discern the plant, a

soft yellow gleam was reflected from the buttercups into their shaded faces, giving them an elfish, moonlit

aspect, though the sun was pouring upon their backs in all the strength of noon.

Angel Clare, who communistically stuck to his rule of taking part with the rest in everything, glanced up now

As they had been discussing a score of personal matters only halfanhour before, the introductory style

seemed a little superfluous. But they got no further in speech just then. They crept and crept, the hem of her

petticoat just touching his gaiter, and his elbow sometimes brushing hers. At last the dairyman, who came

"Upon my soul and body, this here stooping do fairly make my back open and shut!" he exclaimed,

straightening himself slowly with an excruciated look till quite upright. "And you, maidy Tess, you wasn't

well a day or two agothis will make your head ache finely! Don't do any more, if you feel fainty; leave the

Dairyman Crick withdrew, and Tess dropped behind. Mr Clare also stepped out of line, and began

privateering about for the weed. When she found him near her, her very tension at what she had heard the

Tess had moodily decided that either of these maidens would make a good farmer's wife, and that she ought

Selfsacrificing as her mood might be Tess could not well go further and cry, "Marry one of them, if you

really do want a dairywoman and not a lady; and don't think of marrying me!" She followed Dairyman Crick,

From this day she forced herself to take pains to avoid himnever allowing herself, as formerly, to remain

long in his company, even if their juxtaposition were purely accidental. She gave the other three every

Tess was woman enough to realize from their avowals to herself that Angel Clare had the honour of all the

dairymaids in his keeping, and her perception of his care to avoid compromising the happiness of either in the

least degree bred a tender respect in Tess for what she deemed, rightly or wrongly, the selfcontrolling sense

of duty shown by him, a quality which she had never expected to find in one of the opposite sex, and in the

absence of which more than one of the simple hearts who were his housemates might have gone weeping on

The hot weather of July had crept upon them unawares, and the atmosphere of the flat vale hung heavy as an

opiate over the dairyfolk, the cows, and the trees. Hot steaming rains fell frequently, making the grass where

the cows fed yet more rank, and hindering the late haymaking in the other meads.

It was Sunday morning; the milking was done; the outdoor milkers had gone home. Tess and the other three

were dressing themselves rapidly, the whole bevy having agreed to go together to Mellstock Church, which

lay some three or four miles distant from the dairyhouse. She had now been two months at Talbothays, and

All the preceding afternoon and night heavy thunderstorms had hissed down upon the meads, and washed

some of the hay into the river; but this morning the sun shone out all the more brilliantly for the deluge, and

The crooked lane leading from their own parrish to Mellstock ran along the lowest levels in a portion of its

length, and when the girls reached the most depressed spot they found that the result of the rain had been to

flood the lane overshoe to a distance of some fifty yards. This would have been no serious hindrance on a

weekday; they would have clicked through it in their high patterns and boots quite unconcerned; but on this

day of vanity, this Sun'sday, when flesh went forth to coquet with flesh while hypocritically affecting

business with spiritual things; on this occasion for wearing their white stockings and thin shoes, and their

pink, white, and lilac gowns, on which every mud spot would be visible, the pool was an awkward

"Who would have expected such a rise in the river in summertime!" said Marian, from the top of the

roadside bank on which they had climbed, and were maintaining a precarious footing in the hope of creeping

"We can't get there anyhow, without walking right through it, or else going round the Turnpike way; and that

"And I do colour up so hot, walking into church late, and all the people staring round," said Marian, "that I

While they stood clinging to the bank they heard a splashing round the bend of the road, and presently

His aspect was probably as unSabbatarian a one as a dogmatic parson's son often presented; his attire being

his dairy clothes, long wading boots, a cabbageleaf inside his hat to keep his head cool, with a thistlespud

Angel, in fact, rightly or wrongly (to adopt the safe phrase of evasive controversialists), preferred sermons in

stones to sermons in churches and chapels on fine summer days. This morning, moreover, he had gone out to

see if the damage to the hay by the flood was considerable or not. On his walk he observed the girls from a

long distance, though they had been so occupied with their difficulties of passage as not to notice him. He

knew that the water had risen at that spot, and that it would quite check their progress. So he had hastened on,

The rosycheeked, brighteyed quartet looked so charming in their light summer attire, clinging to the

roadside bank like pigeons on a roofslope, that he stopped a moment to regard them before coming close.

Their gauzy skirts had brushed up from the grass innumerable flies and butterflies which, unable to escape,

remained caged in the transparent tissue as in an aviary. Angel's eye at last fell upon Tess, the hindmost of the

four; she, being full of suppressed laughter at their dilemma, could not help meeting his glance radiantly.

He came beneath them in the water, which did not rise over his long boots; and stood looking at the entrapped

"Are you trying to get to church?" he said to Marian, who was in front, including the next two in his remark,

"It is the only way for you to get past. Stand still. Nonsenseyou are not too heavy! I'd carry you all four

together. Now, Marian, attend," he continued, "and put your arms round my shoulders, so. Now! Hold on.

Marian had lowered herself upon his arm and shoulder as directed, and Angel strode off with her, his slim

figure, as viewed from behind, looking like the mere stem to the great nosegay suggested by hers. They

disappeared round the curve of the road, and only his sousing footsteps and the top ribbon of Marian's bonnet

told where they were. In a few minutes he reappeared. Izz Huett was the next in order upon the bank.

"Here he comes," she murmured, and they could hear that her lips were dry with emotion. "And I have to put

"There's a time for everything," continued Izz, unheeding. "A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from

Angel Clare, to whom threequarters of this performance was a commonplace act of kindness, now

approached Izz. She quietly and dreamily lowered herself into his arms, and Angel methodically marched off

with her. When he was heard returning for the third time Retty's throbbing heart could be almost seen to

shake her. He went up to the redhaired girl, and while he was seizing her he glanced at Tess. His lips could

not have pronounced more plainly, "It will soon be you and I." Her comprehension appeared in her face; she

Poor little Retty, though by far the lightest weight, was the most troublesome of Clare's burdens. Marian had

been like a sack of meal, a dead weight of plumpness under which he has literally staggered. Izz had ridden

However, he got through with the disquieted creature, deposited her, and returned. Tess could see over the

hedge the distant three in a group, standing as he had placed them on the next rising ground. It was now her

turn. She was embarrassed to discover that excitement at the proximity of Mr Clare's breath and eyes, which

she had contemned in her companions, was intensified in herself; and as if fearful of betraying her secret she

"I may be able to clim' along the bank perhapsI can clim' better than they. You must be so tired, Mr

"No, no, Tess," said he quickly. And almost before she was aware she was seated in his arms and resting

"They are better women than I," she replied, magnanimously sticking to her resolve.

"O no. You should lift Marian! Such a lump. You are like an undulating billow warmed by the sun. And all

"Do you know that I have undergone threequarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?"

That the rise in the water was what she understood him to refer to, the state of breathing belied. Clare stood

The girl's cheeks burned to the breeze, and she could not look into his eyes for her emotion. It reminded

Angel that he was somewhat unfairly taking advantage of an accidental position; and he went no further with

it. No definite words of love had crossed their lips as yet, and suspension at this point was desirable now.

However, he walked slowly, to make the remainder of the distance as long as possible; but at last they came

to the bend, and the rest of their progress was in full view of the other three. The dry land was reached, and

Her friends were looking with round thoughtful eyes at her and him, and she could see that they had been

talking of her. He hastily bade them farewell, and splashed back along the stretch of submerged road.

"He likes 'ee bestthe very best! We could see it as he brought 'ee. He would have kissed 'ee, if you had

The gaiety with which they had set out had somehow vanished; and yet there was no enmity or malice

between them. They were generous young souls; they had been reared in the lonely country nooks where

fatalism is a strong sentiment, and they did not blame her. Such supplanting was to be.

Tess's heart ached. There was no concealing from herself the fact that she loved Angel Clare, perhaps all the

more passionately from knowing that the others had also lost their hearts to him. There is contagion in this

sentiment, especially among women. And yet that same hungry nature had fought against this, but too feebly,

"I will never stand in your way, nor in the way of either of you!" she declared to Retty that night in the

bedroom (her tears running down). "I can't help this, my dear! I don't think marrying is in his mind at all; but

"It cannot be! But I will be plain. Putting myself quite on one side. I don't think he will choose either of you."

"I have never expected itthought of it!" moaned Retty. "But O! I wish I was dead!"

The poor child, torn by a feeling which she hardly understood, turned to the other two girls who came

"We be friends with her again," she said to them. "She thinks no more of his choosing her than we do."

"I don't seem to care what I do now," said Marian, whose mood was turned to its lowest bass. "I was going to

marry a dairyman at Stickleford, who's asked me twice; butmy soulI would put an end to myself rather'n

"To confess, then," murmured Izz, "I made sure today that he was going to kiss me as he held me; and I lay

still against his breast, hoping and hoping, and never moved at all. But he did not. I don't like biding here at

The air of the sleepingchamber seemed to palpitate with the hopeless passion of the girls. They writhed

feverishly under the oppressiveness of an emotion thrust on them by cruel Nature's lawan emotion which

they had neither expected nor desired. The incident of the day had fanned the flame that was burning the

inside of their hearts out, and the torture was almost more than they could endure. The differences which

distinguished them as individuals were abstracted by this passion, and each was but portion of one organism

called sex. There was so much frankness and so little jealousy because there was no hope. Each one was a

girl of fair common sense, and she did not delude herself with any vain conceits, or deny her love, or give

herself airs, in the idea of outshining the others. The full recognition of the futility of their infatuation, from a

social point of view; its purposeless beginning; its selfbounded outlook; its lack of everything to justify its

existence in the eye of civilization (while lacking nothing in the eye of Nature); the one fact that it did exist,

ecstasizing them to a killing joy; all this imparted to them a resignation, a dignity, which a practical and

They tossed and turned on their little beds, and the cheesewring dripped monotonously downstairs.

Tess replied in the affirmative, whereupon also Retty and Marian suddenly flung the bedclothes off them, and

"I wonder what she is likethe lady they say his family have looked out for him!"

"Some lady looked out for him?" gasped Tess, starting. "I have never heard o' that!"

"O yes'tis whispered; a young lady of his own rank, chosen by his family; a Doctor of Divinity's daughter

near his father's parish of Emminster; he don't much care for her, they say. But he is sure to marry her."

They had heard so very little of this; yet it was enough to build up wretched dolorous dreams upon, there in

the shade of the night. They pictured all the details of his being won round to consent, of the wedding

preparations, of the bride's happiness, of her dress and veil, of her blissful home with him, when oblivion

would have fallen upon themselves as far as he and their love were concerned. Thus they talked, and ached,

After this disclosure Tess nourished no further foolish thought that there lurked any grave and deliberate

import in Clare's attentions to her. It was a passing summer love of her face, for love's own temporary

sakenothing more. And thorny crown of this sad conception was that she whom he really did prefer in a

cursory way to the rest, she who knew herself to be more impassioned in nature, cleverer, more beautiful than

they, was in the eyes of propriety far less worthy of him than the homelier ones whom he ignored.

Amid the oozing fatness and warm ferments of the Froom Vale, at a season when the rush of juices could

almost be heard below the hiss of fertilization, it was impossible that the most fanciful love should not grow

passionate. The ready bosoms existing there were impregnated by their surroundings.

July passed over their heads, and the Thermidorean weather which came in its wake seemed an effort on the

part of Nature to match the state of hearts at Talbothays Dairy. The air of the place, so fresh in the spring and

early summer, was stagnant and enervating now. Its heavy scents weighed upon them, and at midday the

landscape seemed lying in a swoon. Ethiopic scorchings browned the upper slopes of the pastures, but there

was still bright green herbage here where the watercourses purled. And as Clare was oppressed by the

outward heats, so was he burdened inwardly by waxing fervour of passion for the soft and silent Tess.

The rains having passed the uplands were dry. The wheels of the dairyman's spring cart, as he sped home

from market, licked up the pulverized surface of the highway, and were followed by white ribands of dust, as

if they had set a thin powertrain on fire. The cows jumped wildly over the fivebarred bartongate,

maddened by the gadfly; Dairyman Crick kept his shirtsleeves permanently rolled up from Monday to

Saturday; open windows had no effect in ventilation without open doors, and in the dairygarden the

blackbirds and thrushes crept about under the currantbushes, rather in the manner of quadrupeds than of

winged creatures. The flies in the kitchen were lazy, teasing, and familiar, crawling about in the unwonted

places, on the floors, into drawers, and over the backs of the milkmaids' hands. Conversations were

concerning sunstroke; while buttermaking, and still more butterkeeping, was a despair.

They milked entirely in the meads for coolness and convenience, without driving in the cows. During the day

the animals obsequiously followed the shadow of the smallest tree as it moved round the stem with the

diurnal roll; and when the milkers came they could hardly stand still for the flies.

On one of these afternoons four or five unmilked cows chanced to stand apart from the general herd, behind

the corner of a hedge, among them being Dumpling and Old Pretty, who loved Tess's hands above those of

any other maid. When she rose from her stool under a finished cow Angel Clare, who had been observing her

for some time, asked her if she would take the aforesaid creatures next. She silently assented, and with her

stool at arm's length, and the pail against her knee, went round to where they stood. Soon the sound of Old

Pretty's milk fizzing into the pail came through the hedge, and then Angel felt inclined to go round the corner

also, to finish off a hardyielding milcher who had strayed there, he being now as capable of this as the

All the men, and some of the women, when milking, dug their foreheads into the cows and gazed into the

pail. But a fewmainly the younger onesrested their heads sideways. This was Tess Durbeyfield's habit,

her temple pressing the milcher's flank, her eyes fixed on the far end of the meadow with the quiet of one lost

in meditation. She was milking Old Pretty thus, and the sun chancing to be on the milkingside it shone flat

upon her pinkgowned form and her white curtainbonnet, and upon her profile, rendering it keen as a

She did not know that Clare had followed her round, and that he sat under his cow watching her. The stillness

of her head and features was remarkable: she might have been in a trance, her eyes open, yet unseeing.

Nothing in the picture moved but Old Pretty's tail and Tess's pink hands, the latter so gently as to be a

rhythmic pulsation only, as if they were obeying a reflex stimulus, like a beating heart.

How very lovable her face was to him. yet there was nothing ethereal about it; all was real vitality, real

warmth, real incarnation. And it was in her mouth that this culminated. Eyes almost as deep and speaking he

had seen before, and cheeks perhaps as fair; brows as arched, a chin and throat almost as shapely; her mouth

he had seen nothing to equal on the face of the earth. To a young man with the least fire in him that little

upward lift in the middle of her red top lip was distracting, infatuating, maddening. He had never before seen

a woman's lips and teeth which forced upon his mind with such persistent iteration the old Elizabethan simile

of roses filled with snow. Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them offhand. But nothey were not

perfect. And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the wouldbe perfect that gave the sweetness, because it

Clare had studied the curves of those lips so many times that he could reproduce them mentally with ease:

and now, as they again confronted him, clothed with colour and life, they sent an AURA over his flesh, a

breeze through his nerves, which wellnigh produced a qualm; and actually produced, by some mysterious

She then became conscious that he was observing her; but she would not show it by any change of position,

though the curious dreamlike fixity disappeared, and a close eye might easily have discerned that the

The influence that had passed into Clare like an excitation from the sky did not die down. Resolutions,

reticences, prudences, fears, fell back like a defeated battalion. He jumped up from his seat, and, leaving his

pail to be kicked over if the milcher had such a mind, went quickly towards the desire of his eyes, and,

Tess was taken completely by surprise, and she yielded to his embrace with unreflecting inevitableness.

Having seen that it was really her lover who had advanced, and no one else, her lips parted, and she sank

He had been on the point of kissing that too tempting mouth, but he checked himself, for tender conscience'

"Forgive me, Tess dear!" he whispered. "I ought to have asked. Idid not know what I was doing. I do not

Old Pretty by this time had looked round, puzzled; and seeing two people crouching under her where, by

immemorial custom, there should have been only one, lifted her hind left crossly.

"She is angryshe doesn't know what we meanshe'll kick over the milk!" exclaimed Tess, gently striving

to free herself, her eyes concerned with the quadruped's actions, her heart more deeply concerned with herself

She slipped up from her seat, and they stood together, his arm still encircling her. Tess's eyes, fixed on

As she saw and felt more clearly the position she was in she became agitated and tried to withdraw.

"Well, I have betrayed my feeling, Tess, at last," said he, with a curious sigh of desperation, signifying

unconsciously that his heart had outrun his judgement. "That Ilove you dearly and truly I need not say. But

Iit shall go no further nowit distresses youI am as surprised as you are. You will not think I have

He had allowed her to free herself; and in a minute or two the milking of each was resumed. Nobody had

beheld the gravitation of the two into one; and when the dairyman came round by that screened nook a few

minutes later there was not a sign to reveal that the markedly sundered pair were more to each other than

mere acquaintance. Yet in the interval since Crick's last view of them something had occurred which changed

the pivot of the universe for their two natures; something which, had he known its quality, the dairyman

would have despised, as a practical man; yet which was based upon a more stubborn and resistless tendency

than a whole heap of socalled practicalities. A veil had been whisked aside; the tract of each one's outlook

Clare, restless, went out into the dusk when evening drew on, she who had won him having retired to her

The night was as sultry as the day. There was no coolness after dark unless on the grass. Roads,

gardenpaths, the housefronts, the bartonwalls were warm as hearths, and reflected the noontime

He sat on the east gate of the dairyyard, and knew not what to think of himself. Feeling had indeed

Since the sudden embrace, three hours before, the twain had kept apart. She seemed stilled, almost alarmed,

at what had occurred, while the novelty, unpremeditation, mastery of circumstance disquieted

himpalpitating, contemplative being that he was. He could hardly realize their true relations to each other

as yet, and what their mutual bearing should be before third parties thenceforward.

Angel had come as pupil to this dairy in the idea that his temporary existence here was to be the merest

episode in his life, soon passed through and early forgotten; he had come as to a place from which as from a

screened alcove he could calmly view the absorbing world without, and, apostrophizing it with Walt

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, How curious you are to me!

resolve upon a plan for plunging into that world anew. But behold, the absorbing scene had been imported

hither. What had been the engrossing world had dissolved into an uninteresting outer dumbshow; while

here, in this apparently dim and unimpassioned place, novelty had volcanically started up, as it had never, for

Every window of the house being open Clare could hear across the yard each trivial sound of the retiring

household. The dairyhouse, so humble, so insignificant, so purely to him a place of constrained sojourn that

he had never hitherto deemed it of sufficient importance to be reconnoitred as an object of any quality

whatever in the landscape; what was it now? The aged and lichened brick gables breathed forth "Stay!" The

windows smiled, the door coaxed and beckoned, the creeper blushed confederacy. A personality within it was

so farreaching in her influence as to spread into and make the bricks, mortar, and whole overhanging sky

throb with a burning sensibility. Whose was this mighty personality? A milkmaid's. It was amazing, indeed,

to find how great a matter the life of the obscure dairy had become to him. And though new love was to be

held partly responsible for this it was not solely so. Many besides Angel have learnt that the magnitude of

lives is not as to their external displacements, but as to their subjective experiences. The impressionable

peasant leads a larger, fuller, more dramatic life than the pachydermatous king. Looking at it thus he found

Despite his heterodoxy, faults, and weaknesses, Clare was a man with a conscience. Tess was no insignificant

creature to toy with and dismiss; but a woman living her precious lifea life which, to herself who endured

or enjoyed it, possessed as great a dimension as the life of the mightiest to himself. Upon her sensations the

whole world depended to Tess; through her existence all her fellowcreatures existed, to her. The universe

itself only came into being for Tess on the particular day in the particular year in which she was born.

This consciousness upon which he had intruded was the single opportunity of existence ever vouchsafed to

Tess by an unsympathetic First Causeher all; her every and only chance. How then should he look upon

her as of less consequence than himself; as a pretty trifle to caress and grow weary of; and not deal in the

greatest seriousness with the affection which he knew that he had awakened in herso fervid and so

impressionable as she was under her reserve; in order that it might not agonize and wreck her?

To encounter her daily in the accustomed manner would be to develop what had begun. Living in such close

relations, to meet meant to fall into endearment; flesh and blood could not resist it; and, having arrived at no

conclusion as to the issue of such a tendency, he decided to hold aloof for the present from occupations in

But it was not easy to carry out the resolution never to approach her. He was driven towards her by every

He thought he would go and see his friends. It might be possible to sound them upon this. In less than five

months his term here would have ended, and after a few additional months spent upon other farms he would

be fully equipped in agricultural knowledge, and in a position to start on his own account. Would not a farmer

want a wife, and should a farmer's wife be a drawingroom waxfigure, or a woman who understood

farming? Notwithstanding the pleasing answer returned to him by the silence he resolved to go his journey.

One morning when they sat down to breakfast at Talbothays Dairy some maid observed that she had not seen

"O no," said Dairyman Crick. "Mr Clare has gone hwome to Emminster to spend a few days wi' his kinsfolk."

For four impassioned ones around that table the sunshine of the morning went out at a stroke, and the birds

muffled their song. But neither girl by word or gesture revealed her blankness. "He's getting on towards the

end of his time wi' me," added the dairyman, with a phlegm which unconsciously was brutal; "and so I

"How much longer is he to bide here?" asked Izz Huett, the only one of the gloomstricken bevy who could

The others waited for the dairyman's answer as if their lives hung upon it; Retty, with parted lips, gazing on

the tablecloth, Marian with heat added to her redness, Tess throbbing and looking out at the meads.

"Well, I can't mind the exact day without looking at my memorandumbook," replied Crick, with the same

intolerable unconcern. "And even that may be altered a bit. He'll bide to get a little practice in the calving out

at the strawyard, for certain. He'll hang on till the end of the year I should say."

Four months or so of torturing ecstasy in his societyof "pleasure girdled about with pain". After that the

At this moment of the morning Angel Clare was riding along a narrow lane ten miles distant from the

breakfasters, in the direction of his father's Vicarage at Emminster, carrying, as well as he could, a little

basket which contained some blackpuddings and a bottle of mead, sent by Mrs Crick, with her kind

respects, to his parents. The white lane stretched before him, and his eyes were upon it; but they were staring

into next year, and not at the lane. He loved her; ought he to marry her? Dared he to marry her? What would

his mother and his brothers say? What would he himself say a couple of years after the event? That would

depend upon whether the germs of staunch comradeship underlay the temporary emotion, or whether it were

His father's hillsurrounded little town, the Tudor churchtower of red stone, the clump of trees near the

Vicarage, came at last into view beneath him, and he rode down towards the wellknown gate. Casting a

glance in the direction of the church before entering his home, he beheld standing by the vestrydoor a group

of girls, of ages between twelve and sixteen, apparently awaiting the arrival of some other one, who in a

moment became visible; a figure somewhat older than the schoolgirls, wearing a broadbrimmed hat and

Clare knew her well. He could not be sure that she observed him; he hoped she did not, so as to render it

unnecessary that he should go and speak to her, blameless creature that she was. An overpowering reluctance

to greet her made him decide that she had not seen him. The young lady was Miss Mercy Chant, the only

daughter of his father's neighbour and friend, whom it was his parents' quiet hope that he might wed some

day. She was great at Antinomianism and Bible classes, and was plainly going to hold a class now. Clare's

mind flew to the impassioned, summersteeped heathens in the Var Vale, their rosy faces courtpatched with

cowdroppings; and to one the most impassioned of them all. It was on the impulse of the moment that he

had resolved to trot over to Emminster, and hence had not written to apprise his mother and father, aiming,

however, to arrive about the breakfast hour, before they should have gone out to their parish duties. He was a

little late, and they had already sat down to the morning meal. The group at the table jumped up to welcome

him as soon as he entered. They were his father and mother, his brother the Reverend Felixcurate at a town

in the adjoining county, home for the inside of a fortnightand his other brother, the Reverend Cuthbert, the

classical scholar, and Fellow and Dean of his College, down from Cambridge for the long vacation. His

mother appeared in a cap and silver spectacles, and his father looked what in fact he wasan earnest,

Godfearing man, somewhat gaunt, in years about sixtyfive, his pale face lined with thought and purpose.

Over their heads hung the picture of Angel's sister, the eldest of the family, sixteen years his senior, who had

Old Mr Clare was a clergyman of a type which, within the last twenty years, has wellnigh dropped out of

contemporary life. A spiritual descendant in the direct line from Wycliff, Huss, Luther, Calvin; an

Evangelical of the Evangelicals, a Conversionist, a man of Apostolic simplicity in life and thought, he had in

his raw youth made up his mind once for all in the deeper questions of existence, and admitted no further

reasoning on them thenceforward. He was regarded even by those his own date and school of thinking as

extreme; while, on the other hand, those totally opposed to him were unwillingly won to admiration for his

thoroughness, and for the remarkable power he showed in dismissing all question as to principles in his

energy for applying them. He loved Paul of Tarsus, liked St John, hated St James as much as he dared, and

regarded with mixed feelings Timothy, Titus, and Philemon. The New Testament was less a Christiad then a

Pauliad to his intelligenceless an argument than an intoxication. His creed of determinism was such that it

almost amounted to a vice, and quite amounted, on its negative side, to a renunciative philosophy which had

cousinship with that of Schopenhauer and Leopardi. He despised the Canons and Rubric, swore by the

Articles, and deemed himself consistent through the whole categorywhich in a way he might have been.

To the aesthetic, sensuous, pagan pleasure in natural life and lush womanhood which his son Angel had lately

been experiencing in Var Vale, his temper would have been antipathetic in a high degree, had he either by

inquiry or imagination been able to apprehend it. Once upon a time Angel had been so unlucky as to say to

his father, in a moment of irritation, that it might have resulted far better for mankind if Greece had been the

source of the religion of modern civilization, and not Palestine; and his father's grief was of that blank

description which could not realize that there might lurk a thousandth part of a truth, much less a half truth or

a whole truth, in such a proposition. He had simply preached austerely at Angel for some time after. But the

kindness of his heart was such that he never resented anything for long, and welcomed his son today with a

Angel sat down, and the place felt like home; yet he did not so much as formerly feel himself one of the

family gathered there. Every time that he returned hither he was conscious of this divergence, and since he

had last shared in the Vicarage life it had grown even more distinctly foreign to his own than usual. Its

transcendental aspirationsstill unconsciously based on the geocentric view of things, a zenithal paradise, a

nadiral hellwere as foreign to his own as if they had been the dreams of people on another planet. Latterly

he had seen only Life, felt only the great passionate pulse of existence, unwarped, uncontorted, untrammelled

by those creeds which futilely attempt to check what wisdom would be content to regulate.

On their part they saw a great difference in him, a growing divergence from the Angel Clare of former times.

It was chiefly a difference in his manner that they noticed just now, particularly his brothers. He was getting

to behave like a farmer; he flung his legs about; the muscles of his face had grown more expressive; his eyes

looked as much information as his tongue spoke, and more. The manner of the scholar had nearly

disappeared; still more the manner of the drawingroom young man. A prig would have said that he had lost

culture, and a prude that he had become coarse. Such was the contagion of domiciliary fellowship with the

After breakfast he walked with his two brothers, nonevangelical, welleducated, hallmarked young men,

correct to their remotest fibre, such unimpeachable models as are turned out yearly by the lathe of a

systematic tuition. They were both somewhat shortsighted, and when it was the custom to wear a single

eyeglass and string they wore a single eyeglass and string; when it was the custom to wear a double glass

they wore a double glass; when it was the custom to wear spectacles they wore spectacles straightway, all

without reference to the particular variety of defect in their own vision. When Wordsworth was enthroned

they carried pocket copies; and when Shelley was belittled they allowed him to grow dusty on their shelves.

When Correggio's Holy Families were admired, they admired Correggio's Holy Families; when he was

decried in favour of Velasquez, they sedulously followed suit without any personal objection.

If these two noticed Angel's growing social ineptness, he noticed their growing mental limitations. Felix

seemed to him all Church; Cuthbert all College. His Diocesan Synod and Visitations were the mainsprings of

the world to the one; Cambridge to the other. Each brother candidly recognized that there were a few

unimportant score of millions of outsiders in civilized society, persons who were neither University men nor

churchmen; but they were to be tolerated rather than reckoned with and respected.

They were both dutiful and attentive sons, and were regular in their visits to their parents. Felix, though an

offshoot from a far more recent point in the devolution of theology than his father, was less selfsacrificing

and disinterested. More tolerant than his father of a contradictory opinion, in its aspect as a danger to its

holder, he was less ready than his father to pardon it as a slight to his own teaching. Cuthbert was, upon the

whole, the more liberalminded, though, with greater subtlety, he had not so much heart.

As they walked along the hillside Angel's former feeling revived in himthat whatever their advantages by

comparison with himself, neither saw or set forth life as it really was lived. Perhaps, as with many men, their

opportunities of observation were not so good as their opportunities of expression. Neither had an adequate

conception of the complicated forces at work outside the smooth and gentle current in which they and their

associates floated. Neither saw the difference between local truth and universal truth; that what the inner

world said in their clerical and academic hearing was quite a different thing from what the outer world was

"I suppose it is farming or nothing for you now, my dear fellow," Felix was saying, among other things, to his

youngest brother, as he looked through his spectacles at the distant fields with sad austerity. "And, therefore,

we must make the best of it. But I do entreat you to endeavour to keep as much as possible in touch with

moral ideals. Farming, of course, means roughing it externally; but high thinking may go with plain living,

"Of course it may," said Angel. "Was it not proved nineteen hundred years agoif I may trespass upon your

domain a little? Why should you think, Felix, that I am likely to drop my high thinking and my moral ideals?"

"Well, I fancied, from the tone of your letters and our conversationit may be fancy onlythat you were

"Now, Felix," said Angel drily, "we are very good friends, you know; each of us treading our allotted circles;

but if it comes to intellectual grasp, I think you, as a contented dogmatist, had better leave mine alone, and

They returned down the hill to dinner, which was fixed at any time at which their father's and mother's

morning work in the parish usually concluded. Convenience as regarded afternoon callers was the last thing

to enter into the consideration of unselfish Mr and Mrs Clare; though the three sons were sufficiently in

unison on this matter to wish that their parents would conform a little to modern notions.

The walk had made them hungry, Angel in particular, who was now an outdoor man, accustomed to the

profuse DAPES INEMPTAE of the dairyman's somewhat coarselyladen table. But neither of the old people

had arrived, and it was not till the sons were almost tired of waiting that their parents entered. The

selfdenying pair had been occupied in coaxing the appetites of some of their sick parishioners, whom they,

somewhat inconsistently, tried to keep imprisoned in the flesh, their own appetites being quite forgotten.

The family sat down to table, and a frugal meal of cold viands was deposited before them. Angel looked

round for Mrs Crick's blackpuddings, which he had directed to be nicely grilled as they did them at the

dairy, and of which he wished his father and mother to appreciate the marvellous herbal savours as highly as

"Ah! you are looking for the blackpuddings, my dear boy," observed Clare's mother. "But I am sure you will

not mind doing without them as I am sure your father and I shall not, when you know the reason. I suggested

to him that we should take Mrs Crick's kind present to the children of the man who can earn nothing just now

because of his attacks of delirium tremens; and he agreed that it would be a great pleasure to them; so we

"I found the mead so extremely alcoholic," continued his mother, "that it was quite unfit for use as a

beverage, but as valuable as rum or brandy in an emergency; so I have put it in my medicinecloset."

"I rather wanted to say we enjoyed the mead and the blackpuddings very much. She is a kind, jolly sort of

"Oh'tis an expression they use down at Talbothays," replied Angel, blushing. He felt that his parents were

It was not till the evening, after family prayers, that Angel found opportunity of broaching to his father one or

two subjects near his heart. He had strung himself up to the purpose while kneeling behind his brothers on the

carpet, studying the little nails in the heels of their walking boots. When the service was over they went out of

The young man first discussed with the elder his plans for the attainment of his position as a farmer on an

extensive scaleeither in England or in the Colonies. His father then told him that, as he had not been put to

the expense of sending Angel up to Cambridge, he had felt it his duty to set by a sum of money every year

towards the purchase or lease of land for him some day, that he might not feel himself unduly slighted.

"As far as worldly wealth goes," continued his father, "you will no doubt stand far superior to your brothers

This considerateness on old Mr Clare's part led Angel onward to the other and dearer subject. He observed to

his father that he was then sixandtwenty, and that when he should start in the farming business he would

require eyes in the back of his head to see to all matterssome one would be necessary to superintend the

domestic labours of his establishment whilst he was afield. Would it not be well, therefore, for him to marry?

His father seemed to think this idea not unreasonable; and then Angel put the question

"What kind of wife do you think would be best for me as a thrifty hardworking farmer?"

"A truly Christian woman, who will be a help and a comfort to you in your goingsout and your comingsin.

Beyond that, it really matters little. Such an one can be found; indeed, my earnestminded friend and

"But ought she not primarily to be able to milk cows, churn good butter, make immense cheeses; know how

to sit hens and turkeys and rear chickens, to direct a field of labourers in an emergency, and estimate the

"Yes; a farmer's wife; yes, certainly. It would be desirable." Mr Clare, the elder, had plainly never thought of

these points before. "I was going to add," he said, "that for a pure and saintly woman you will not find one

more to your true advantage, and certainly not more to your mother's mind and my own, than your friend

Mercy, whom you used to show a certain interest in. It is true that my neighbour Chant's daughter had lately

caught up the fashion of the younger clergy round about us for decorating the Communion tablealter, as I

was shocked to hear her call it one daywith flowers and other stuff on festival occasions. But her father,

who is quite as opposed to such flummery as I, says that can be cured. It is a mere girlish outbreak which, I

"Yes, yes; Mercy is good and devout, I know. But, father, don't you think that a young woman equally pure

and virtuous as Miss Chant, but one who, in place of that lady's ecclesiastical accomplishments, understands

the duties of farm life as well as a farmer himself, would suit me infinitely better?"

His father persisted in his conviction that a knowledge of a farmer's wife's duties came second to a Pauline

view of humanity; and the impulsive Angel, wishing to honour his father's feelings and to advance the cause

of his heart at the same time, grew specious. He said that fate or Providence had thrown in his way a woman

who possessed every qualification to be the helpmate of an agriculturist, and was decidedly of a serious turn

of mind. He would not say whether or not she had attached herself to the sound Low Church School of his

father; but she would probably be open to conviction on that point; she was a regular churchgoer of simple

faith; honesthearted, receptive, intelligent, graceful to a degree, chaste as a vestal, and, in personal

"Is she of a family such as you would care to marry intoa lady, in short?" asked his startled mother, who

"She is not what in common parlance is called a lady," said Angel, unflinchingly, "for she is a cottager's

daughter, as I am proud to say. But she IS a lady, neverthelessin feeling and nature."

"Pooh!what's the advantage of that, mother?" said Angel quickly. "How is family to avail the wife of a

"Mercy is accomplished. And accomplishments have their charm," returned his mother, looking at him

"As to external accomplishments, what will be the use of them in the life I am going to lead?while as to

her reading, I can take that in hand. She'll be apt pupil enough, as you would say if you knew her. She's brim

full of poetryactualized poetry, if I may use the expression. She LIVES what paperpoets only write....

And she is an unimpeachable Christian, I am sure; perhaps of the very tribe, genus, and species you desire to

"Mother, I beg pardon. But as she really does attend Church almost every Sunday morning, and is a good

Christian girl, I am sure you will tolerate any social shortcomings for the sake of that quality, and feel that I

may do worse than choose her." Angel waxed quite earnest on that rather automatic orthodoxy in his beloved

Tess which (never dreaming that it might stand him in such good stead) he had been prone to slight when

observing it practised by her and the other milkmaids, because of its obvious unreality amid beliefs

In their sad doubts as to whether their son had himself any right whatever to the title he claimed for the

unknown young woman, Mr and Mrs Clare began to feel it as an advantage not to be overlooked that she at

least was sound in her views; especially as the conjunction of the pair must have arisen by an act of

Providence; for Angel never would have made orthodoxy a condition of his choice. They said finally that it

Angel therefore refrained from declaring more particulars now. He felt that, singleminded and

selfsacrificing as his parents were, there yet existed certain latent prejudices of theirs, as middleclass

people, which it would require some tact to overcome. For though legally at liberty to do as he chose, and

though their daughterinlaw's qualifications could make no practical difference to their lives, in the

probability of her living far away from them, he wished for affection's sake not to wound their sentiment in

He observed his own inconsistencies in dwelling upon accidents in Tess's life as if they were vital features. It

was for herself that he loved Tess; her soul, her heart, her substancenot for her skill in the dairy, her

aptness as his scholar, and certainly not for her simple formal faithprofessions. Her unsophisticated

openair existence required no varnish of conventionality to make it palatable to him. He held that education

had as yet but little affected the beats of emotion and impulse on which domestic happiness depends. It was

probable that, in the lapse of ages, improved systems of moral and intellectual training would appreciably,

perhaps considerably, elevate the involuntary and even the unconscious instincts of human nature; but up to

the present day culture, as far as he could see, might be said to have affected only the mental epiderm of those

lives which had been brought under its influence. This belief was confirmed by his experience of women,

which, having latterly been extended from the cultivated middleclass into the rural community, had taught

him how much less was the intrinsic difference between the good and wise woman of one social stratum and

the good and wise woman of another social stratum, than between the good and bad, the wise and the foolish,

It was the morning of his departure. His brothers had already left the Vicarage to proceed on a walking tour in

the north, whence one was to return to his college, and the other to his curacy. Angel might have

accompanied them, but preferred to rejoin his sweetheart at Talbothays. He would have been an awkward

member of the party; for, though the most appreciative humanist, the most ideal religionist, even the

bestversed Christologist of the three, there was alienation in the standing consciousness that his squareness

would not fit the round hole that had been prepared for him. To neither Felix nor Cuthbert had he ventured to

His mother made him sandwiches, and his father accompanied him, on his own mare, a little way along the

road. Having fairly well advanced his own affairs Angel listened in a willing silence, as they jogged on

together through the shady lanes, to his father's account of his parish difficulties, and the coldness of brother

clergymen whom he loved, because of his strict interpretations of the New Testament by the light of what

"Pernicious!" said Mr Clare, with genial scorn; and he proceeded to recount experiences which would show

the absurdity of that idea. He told of wondrous conversions of evil livers of which he had been the

instrument, not only amongst the poor, but amongst the rich and welltodo; and he also candidly admitted

As an instance of the latter, he mentioned the case of a young upstart squire named d'Urberville, living some

"Not one of the ancient d'Urbervilles of Kingsbere and other places?" asked his son. "That curiously historic

"O no. The original d'Urbervilles decayed and disappeared sixty or eighty years agoat least, I believe so.

This seems to be a new family which had taken the name; for the credit of the former knightly line I hope

they are spurious, I'm sure. But it is odd to hear you express interest in old families. I thought you set less

"You misapprehend me, father; you often do," said Angel with a little impatience. "Politically I am sceptical

as to the virtue of their being old. Some of the wise even among themselves 'exclaim against their own

succession,' as Hamlet puts it; but lyrically, dramatically, and even historically, I am tenderly attached to

This distinction, though by no means a subtle one, was yet too subtle for Mr Clare the elder, and he went on

with the story he had been about to relate; which was that after the death of the senior socalled d'Urberville

the young man developed the most culpable passions, though he had a blind mother, whose condition should

have made him know better. A knowledge of his career having come to the ears of Mr Clare, when he was in

that part of the country preaching missionary sermons, he boldly took occasion to speak to the delinquent on

his spiritual state. Though he was a stranger, occupying another's pulpit, he had felt this to be his duty, and

took for his text the words from St Luke: "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee!" The young

man much resented this directness of attack, and in the war of words which followed when they met he did

"Dear father," he said sadly, "I wish you would not expose yourself to such gratuitous pain from scoundrels!"

"Pain?" said his father, his rugged face shining in the ardour of selfabnegation. "The only pain to me was

pain on his account, poor, foolish young man. Do you suppose his incensed words could give me any pain, or

even his blows? 'Being reviled we bless; being persecuted we suffer it; being defamed we entreat; we are

made as the filth of the world, and as the offscouring of all things unto this day.' Those ancient and noble

"No, he did not. Though I have borne blows from men in a mad state of intoxication."

"No!" "A dozen times, my boy. What then? I have saved them from the guilt of murdering their own flesh

"May this young man do the same!" said Angel fervently. "But I fear otherwise, from what you say."

"We'll hope, nevertheless," said Mr Clare. "And I continue to pray for him, though on this side of the grave

we shall probably never meet again. But, after all, one of those poor words of mine may spring up in his heart

Now, as always, Clare's father was sanguine as a child; and though the younger could not accept his parent's

narrow dogma he revered his practice, and recognized the hero under the pietist. Perhaps he revered his

father's practice even more now than ever, seeing that, in the question of making Tessy his wife, his father

had not once thought of inquiring whether she were well provided or penniless. The same unworldliness was

what had necessitated Angel's getting a living as a farmer, and would probably keep his brothers in the

position of poor parsons for the term of their activities; yet Angel admired it none the less. Indeed, despite his

own heterodoxy, Angel often felt that he was nearer to his father on the human side than was either of his

An uphill and downhill ride of twentyodd miles through a garish midday atmosphere brought him in the

afternoon to a detached knoll a mile or two west of Talbothays, whence he again looked into that green

trough of sappiness and humidity, the valley of the Var or Froom. Immediately he began to descend from the

upland to the fat alluvial soil below, the atmosphere grew heavier; the languid perfume of the summer fruits,

the mists, the hay, the flowers, formed therein a vast pool of odour which at this hour seemed to make the

animals, the very bees and butterflies drowsy. Clare was now so familiar with the spot that he knew the

individual cows by their names when, a long distance off, he saw them dotted about the meads. It was with a

sense of luxury that he recognized his power of viewing life here from its inner side, in a way that had been

quite foreign to him in his studentdays; and, much as he loved his parents, he could not help being aware

that to come here, as now, after an experience of homelife, affected him like throwing off splints and

bandages; even the one customary curb on the humours of English rural societies being absent in this place,

Not a human being was out of doors at the dairy. The denizens were all enjoying the usual afternoon nap of

an hour or so which the exceedingly early hours kept in summertime rendered a necessity. At the door the

woodhooped pails, sodden and bleached by infinite scrubbings, hung like hats on a stand upon the forked

and peeled limb of an oak fixed there for that purpose; all of them ready and dry for the evening milking.

Angel entered, and went through the silent passages of the house to the back quarters, where he listened for a

moment. Sustained snores came from the carthouse, where some of the men were lying down; the grunt and

squeal of sweltering pigs arose from the still further distance. The largeleaved rhubarb and cabbage plants

slept too, their broad limp surfaces hanging in the sun like halfclosed umbrellas.

He unbridled and fed his horse, and as he reentered the house the clock struck three. Three was the

afternoon skimminghour; and, with the stroke, Clare heard the creaking of the floorboards above, and then

the touch of a descending foot on the stairs. It was Tess's, who in another moment came down before his

She had not heard him enter, and hardly realized his presence there. She was yawning, and he saw the red

interior of her mouth as if it had been a snake's. She had stretched one arm so high above her coiledup cable

of hair that he could see its satin delicacy above the sunburn; her face was flushed with sleep, and her eyelids

hung heavy over their pupils. The brimfulness of her nature breathed from her. It was a moment when a

woman's soul is more incarnate than at any other time; when the most spiritual beauty bespeaks itself flesh;

Then those eyes flashed brightly through their filmy heaviness, before the remainder of her face was well

awake. With an oddly compounded look of gladness, shyness, and surprise, she exclaimed"O Mr Clare!

There had not at first been time for her to think of the changed relations which his declaration had introduced;

but the full sense of the matter rose up in her face when she encountered Clare's tender look as he stepped

"Dear, darling Tessy!" he whispered, putting his arm round her, and his face to her flushed cheek. "Don't, for

Heaven's sake, Mister me any more. I have hastened back so soon because of you!"

Tess's excitable heart beat against his by way of reply; and there they stood upon the redbrick floor of the

entry, the sun slanting in by the window upon his back, as he held her tightly to his breast; upon her inclining

face, upon the blue veins of her temple, upon her naked arm, and her neck, and into the depths of her hair.

Having been lying down in her clothes she was warm as a sunned cat. At first she would not look straight up

at him, but her eyes soon lifted, and his plumbed the deepness of the evervarying pupils, with their radiating

fibrils of blue, and black, and gray, and violet, while she regarded him as Eve at her second waking might

"I've got to go askimming," she pleaded, "and I have on'y old Deb to help me today. Mrs Crick is gone to

market with Mr Crick, and Retty is not well, and the others are gone out somewhere, and won't be home till

"I have come back, Deborah," said Mr Clare, upwards. "So I can help Tess with the skimming; and, as you

Possibly the Talbothays milk was not very thoroughly skimmed that afternoon. Tess was in a dream wherein

familiar objects appeared as having light and shade and position, but no particular outline. Every time she

held the skimmer under the pump to cool it for the work her hand trembled, the ardour of his affection being

so palpable that she seemed to flinch under it like a plant in too burning a sun.

Then he pressed her again to his side, and when she had done running her forefinger round the leads to cut off

the creamedge, he cleaned it in nature's way; for the unconstrained manners of Talbothays dairy came

"I may as well say it now as later, dearest," he resumed gently. "I wish to ask you something of a very

practical nature, which I have been thinking of ever since that day last week in the meads. I shall soon want to

marry, and, being a farmer, you see I shall require for my wife a woman who knows all about the

He put it that way that she might not think he had yielded to an impulse of which his head would disapprove.

She turned quite careworn. She had bowed to the inevitable result of proximity, the necessity of loving him;

but she had not calculated upon this sudden corollary, which, indeed, Clare had put before her without quite

meaning himself to do it so soon. With pain that was like the bitterness of dissolution she murmured the

The sound of her own decision seemed to break Tess's very heart, and she bowed her face in her grief.

"But, Tess!" he said, amazed at her reply, and holding her still more greedily close. "Do you say no? Surely

"O yes, yes! And I would rather by yours than anybody's in the world," returned the sweet and honest voice

"Tess," he said, holding her at arm's length, "you are engaged to marry some one else!"

"I don't want to marry! I have not thought of doing it. I cannot! I only want to love you."

"Your father is a parson, and your mother wouldn' like you to marry such as me. She will want you to marry

"If you will let it pass, please, Tessy, I will give you time," he said. "It was very abrupt to come home and

She again took up the shining skimmer, held it beneath the pump, and began anew. But she could not, as at

other times, hit the exact undersurface of the cream with the delicate dexterity required, try as she might;

sometimes she was cutting down into the milk, sometimes in the air. She could hardly see, her eyes having

filled with two blurring tears drawn forth by a grief which, to this her best friend and dear advocate she could

Not to agitate and hinder her longer the considerate Clare began talking in a more general way:

"You quite misapprehend my parents. They are the most simplemannered people alive, and quite

unambitious. They are two of the few remaining Evangelical school. Tessy, are you an Evangelical?"

"You go to church very regularly, and our parson here is not very High, they tell me."

Tess's ideas on the views of the parish clergyman, whom she heard every week, seemed to be rather more

"I wish I could fix my mind on what I hear there more firmly than I do," she remarked as a safe generality. "It

She spoke so unaffectedly that Angel was sure in his heart that his father could not object to her on religious

grounds, even though she did not know whether her principles were High, Low or Broad. He himself knew

that, in reality, the confused beliefs which she held, apparently imbibed in childhood, were, if anything,

Tractarian as to phraseology, and Pantheistic as to essence. Confused or otherwise, to disturb them was his

Leave thou thy sister, when she prays, Her early Heaven, her happy views; Nor thou with shadow'd hint

He had occasionally thought the counsel less honest than musical; but he gladly conformed to it now.

He spoke further of the incidents of his visit, of his father's mode of life, of his zeal for his principles; she

grew serener, and the undulations disappeared from her skimming; as she finished one lead after another he

"I fancied you looked a little downcast when you came in," she ventured to observe, anxious to keep away

"Yeswell, my father had been talking a good deal to me of his troubles and difficulties, and the subject

always tends to depress me. He is so zealous that he gets many snubs and buffetings from people of a

different way of thinking from himself, and I don't like to hear of such humiliations to a man of his age, the

more particularly as I don't think earnestness does any good when carried so far. He has been telling me of a

very unpleasant scene in which he took part quite recently. He went as the deputy of some missionary society

to preach in the neighbourhood of Trantridge, a place forty miles from here, and made it his business to

expostulate with a lax young cynic he met with somewhere about thereson of some landowner up that

wayand who has a mother afflicted with blindness. My father addressed himself to the gentleman

pointblank, and there was quite a disturbance. It was very foolish of my father, I must say, to intrude his

conversation upon a stranger when the probabilities were so obvious that it would be useless. But whatever

he thinks to be his duty, that he'll do, in season or out of season; and, of course, he makes many enemies, not

only among the absolutely vicious, but among the easygoing, who hate being bothered. He says he glories in

what happened, and that good may be done indirectly; but I wish he would not wear himself out now he is

Tess's look had grown hard and worn, and her ripe mouth tragical; but she no longer showed any

tremulousness. Clare's revived thoughts of his father prevented his noticing her particularly; and so they went

on down the white row of liquid rectangles till they had finished and drained them off, when the other maids

returned, and took their pails, and Deb came to scald out the leads for the new milk. As Tess withdrew to go

"O nono!" replied she with grave hopelessness, as one who had heard anew the turmoil of her own past in

She went out towards the mead, joining the other milkmaids with a bound, as if trying to make the open air

drive away her sad constraint. All the girls drew onward to the spot where the cows were grazing in the

farther mead, the bevy advancing with the bold grace of wild animalsthe reckless unchastened motion of

women accustomed to unlimited spacein which they abandoned themselves to the air as a swimmer to the

wave. It seemed natural enough to him now that Tess was again in sight to choose a mate from unconstrained

Her refusal, though unexpected, did not permanently daunt Clare. His experience of women was great enough

for him to be aware that the negative often meant nothing more than the preface to the affirmative; and it was

little enough for him not to know that in the manner of the present negative there lay a great exception to the

dallyings of coyness. That she had already permitted him to make love to her he read as an additional

assurance, not fully trowing that in the fields and pastures to "sigh gratis" is by no means deemed waste;

lovemaking being here more often accepted inconsiderately and for its own sweet sake than in the carking

anxious homes of the ambitious, where a girl's craving for an establishment paralyzes her healthy thought of a

"Tess, why did you say 'no' in such a positive way?" he asked her in the course of a few days.

"Indeed, you mistake themmy father and mother. As for my brothers, I don't care" He clasped his

fingers behind her back to keep her from slipping away. "Nowyou did not mean it, sweet?I am sure you

did not! You have made me so restless that I cannot read, or play, or do anything. I am in no hurry, Tess, but I

want to knowto hear from your own warm lipsthat you will some day be mineany time you may

Clare regarded her attentively, conned the characters of her face as if they had been hieroglyphics. The denial

"Then I ought not to hold you in this wayought I? I have no right to youno right to seek out where you

"I don't repulse you. I like you totell me you love me; and you may always tell me so as you go about with

"Ahthat's differentit is for your good, indeed, my dearest! O, believe me, it is only for your sake! I don't

like to give myself the great happiness o' promising to be yours in that waybecausebecause I am SURE

At such times as this, apprehending the grounds of her refusal to be her modest sense of incompetence in

matters social and polite, he would say that she was wonderfully wellinformed and versatilewhich was

certainly true, her natural quickness, and her admiration for him, having led her to pick up his vocabulary, his

accent, and fragments of his knowledge, to a surprising extent. After these tender contests and her victory she

would go away by herself under the remotest cow, if at milkingtime, or into the sedge, or into her room, if at

a leisure interval, and mourn silently, not a minute after an apparently phlegmatic negative.

The struggle was so fearful; her own heart was so strongly on the side of histwo ardent hearts against one

poor little consciencethat she tried to fortify her resolution by every means in her power. She had come to

Talbothays with a madeup mind. On no account could she agree to a step which might afterwards cause

bitter rueing to her husband for his blindness in wedding her. And she held that what her conscience had

"Why don't somebody tell him all about me?" she said. "It was only forty miles offwhy hasn't it reached

For two or three days no more was said. She guessed from the sad countenances of her chamber companions

that they regarded her not only as the favourite, but as the chosen; but they could see for themselves that she

Tess had never before known a time in which the thread of her life was so distinctly twisted of two strands,

positive pleasure and positive pain. At the next cheesemaking the pair were again left alone together. The

dairyman himself had been lending a hand; but Mr Crick, as well as his wife, seemed latterly to have acquired

a suspicion of mutual interest between these two; though they walked so circumspectly that suspicion was but

They were breaking up the masses of curd before putting them into the vats. The operation resembled the act

of crumbling bread on a large scale; and amid the immaculate whiteness of the curds Tess Durbeyfield's

hands showed themselves of the pinkness of the rose. Angel, who was filling the vats with his handful,

suddenly ceased, and laid his hands flat upon hers. Her sleeves were rolled far above the elbow, and bending

Although the early September weather was sultry, her arm, from her dabbling in the curds, was as cold and

damp to his mouth as a newgathered mushroom, and tasted of the whey. But she was such a sheaf of

susceptibilities that her pulse was accelerated by the touch, her blood driven to her finderends, and the cool

arms flushed hot. Then, as though her heart had said, "Is coyness longer necessary? Truth is truth between

man and woman, as between man and man," she lifted her eyes and they beamed devotedly into his, as her lip

She looked a sudden fear that her resistance might break down under her own desire.

"O, Tessy!" he went on, "I CANNOT think why you are so tantalizing. Why do you disappoint me so? You

seem almost like a coquette, upon my life you doa coquette of the first urban water! They blow hot and

blow cold, just as you do, and it is the very last sort of thing to expect to find in a retreat like Talbothays. ...

And yet, dearest," he quickly added, observing now the remark had cut her, "I know you to be the most

honest, spotless creature that ever lived. So how can I suppose you a flirt? Tess, why don't you like the idea

"I have never said I don't like the idea, and I never could say it; becauseit isn't true!"

The stress now getting beyond endurance her lip quivered, and she was obliged to go away. Clare was so

"Tell me, tell me!" he said, passionately clasping her, in forgetfulness of his curdy hands: "do tell me that you

"I will, I will tell you!" she exclaimed. "And I will give you a complete answer, if you will let me go now. I

"Your experiences, dear; yes, certainly; and number." He expressed assent in loving satire, looking into her

face. "My Tess, no doubt, almost as many experiences as that wild convolvulus out there on the garden

hedge, that opened itself this morning for the first time. Tell me anything, but don't use that wretched

At last she got away, and did not stop in her retreat till she was in the thicket of pollard willows at the lower

side of the barton, where she could be quite unseen. Here Tess flung herself down upon the rustling

undergrowth of speargrass, as upon a bed, and remained crouching in palpitating misery broken by

momentary shoots of joy, which her fears about the ending could not altogether suppress.

In reality, she was drifting into acquiescence. Every seesaw of her breath, every wave of her blood, every

pulse singing in her ears, was a voice that joined with nature in revolt against her scrupulousness. Reckless,

inconsiderate acceptance of him; to close with him at the altar, revealing nothing, and chancing discovery; to

snatch ripe pleasure before the iron teeth of pain could have time to shut upon her: that was what love

counselled; and in almost a terror of ecstasy Tess divined that, despite her many months of lonely

selfchastisement, wrestlings, communings, schemes to lead a future of austere isolation, love's counsel

The afternoon advanced, and still she remained among the willows. She heard the rattle of taking down the

pails from the forked stands; the "waowwaow!" which accompanied the getting together of the cows. But

she did not go to the milking. They would see her agitation; and the dairyman, thinking the cause to be love

Her lover must have guessed her overwrought state, and invented some excuse for her nonappearance, for

no inquiries were made or calls given. At halfpast six the sun settled down upon the levels, with the aspect

of a great forge in the heavens; and presently a monstrous pumpkinlike moon arose on the other hand. The

pollard willows, tortured out of their natural shape by incessant choppings, became spinyhaired monsters as

It was now Wednesday. Thursday came, and Angel looked thoughtfully at her from a distance, but intruded

in no way upon her. The indoor milkmaids, Marian and the rest, seemed to guess that something definite was

afoot, for they did not force any remarks upon her in the bedchamber. Friday passed; Saturday. Tomorrow

"I shall give wayI shall say yesI shall let myself marry himI cannot help it!" she jealously panted,

with her hot face to the pillow that night, on hearing one of the other girls sigh his name in her sleep. "I can't

bear to let anybody have him but me! Yet it is a wrong to him, and may kill him when he knows! O my

"Now, who mid ye think I've heard news o' this morning?" said Dairyman Crick, as he sat down to breakfast

next day, with a riddling gaze round upon the munching men and maids. "Now, just who mid ye think?"

One guessed, and another guessed. Mrs Crick did not guess, because she knew already.

"Well," said the dairyman, "'tis that slacktwisted 'hore'sbird of a feller, Jack Dollop. He's lately got married

The name entered quickly into Tess Durbeyfield's consciousness, for it was the name of the lover who had

wronged his sweetheart, and had afterwards been so roughly used by the young woman's mother in the

"And had he married the valiant matron's daughter, as he promised?" asked Angel Clare absently, as he

turned over the newspaper he was reading at the little table to which he was always banished by Mrs Crick, in

"Not he, sir. Never meant to," replied the dairyman. "As I say, 'tis a widowwoman, and she had money, it

seemsfifty poun' a year or so; and that was all he was after. They were married in a great hurry; and then

she told him that by marrying she had lost her fifty poun' a year. Just fancy the state o' my gentleman's mind

at that news! Never such a cat anddog life as they've been leading ever since! Serve him will beright. But

"Well, the silly body should have told en sooner that the ghost of her first man would trouble him," said Mrs

"Ay; ay," responded the dairyman indecisively. "Still, you can see exactly how 'twas. She wanted a home,

and didn't like to run the risk of losing him. Don't ye think that was something like it, maidens?"

"She ought to ha' told him just before they went to church, when he could hardly have backed out," exclaimed

"She must have seen what he was after, and should ha' refused him," cried Retty spasmodically.

"I think she oughtto have told him the true state of thingsor else refused himI don't know," replied

"Be cust if I'd have done either o't," said Beck Knibbs, a married helper from one of the cottages. "All's fair in

love and war. I'd ha' married en just as she did, and if he'd said two words to me about not telling him

beforehand anything whatsomdever about my first chap that I hadn't chose to tell, I'd ha' knocked him down

The laughter which followed this sally was supplemented only by a sorry smile, for form's sake, from Tess.

What was comedy to them was tragedy to her; and she could hardly bear their mirth. She soon rose from

table, and, with an impression that Clare would soon follow her, went along a little wriggling path, now

stepping to one side of the irrigating channels, and now to the other, till she stood by the main stream of the

Var. Men had been cutting the waterweeds higher up the river, and masses of them were floating past

hermoving islands of green crowfoot, whereon she might almost have ridden; long locks of which weed

Yes, there was the pain of it. This question of a woman telling her storythe heaviest of crosses to

herselfseemed but amusement to others. It was as if people should laugh at martyrdom.

"Tessy!" came from behind her, and Clare sprang across the gully, alighting beside her feet. "My

Not expecting this he had put his arm lightly round her waist the moment after speaking, beneath her hanging

tail of hair. (The younger dairymaids, including Tess, breakfasted with their hair loose on Sunday mornings

before building it up extra high for attending church, a style they could not adopt when milking with their

heads against the cows.) If she had said "Yes" instead of "No" he would have kissed her; it had evidently

been his intention; but her determined negative deterred his scrupulous heart. Their condition of domiciliary

comradeship put her, as the woman, to such disadvantage by its enforced intercourse, that he felt it unfair to

her to exercise any pressure of blandishment which he might have honestly employed had she been better

able to avoid him. He release her momentarilyimprisoned waist, and withheld the kiss.

It all turned on that release. What had given her strength to refuse him this time was solely the tale of the

widow told by the dairyman; and that would have been overcome in another moment. But Angel said no

Day after day they metsomewhat less constantly than before; and thus two or three weeks went by. The

end of September drew near, and she could see in his eye that he might ask her again.

His plan of procedure was different nowas though he had made up his mind that her negatives were, after

all, only coyness and youth startled by the novelty of the proposal. The fitful evasiveness of her manner when

the subject was under discussion countenanced the idea. So he played a more coaxing game; and while never

going beyond words, or attempting the renewal of caresses, he did his utmost orally.

In this way Clare persistently wooed her in undertones like that of the purling milkat the cow's side, at

skimmings, at buttermakings, at cheesemakings, among broody poultry, and among farrowing pigsas no

Tess knew that she must break down. Neither a religious sense of a certain moral validity in the previous

union nor a conscientious wish for candour could hold out against it much longer. She loved him so

passionately, and he was so godlike in her eyes; and being, though untrained, instinctively refined, her nature

cried for his tutelary guidance. And thus, though Tess kept repeating to herself, "I can never be his wife," the

words were vain. A proof of her weakness lay in the very utterance of what calm strength would not have

taken the trouble to formulate. Every sound of his voice beginning on the old subject stirred her with a

His manner waswhat man's is not?so much that of one who would love and cherish and defend her

under any conditions, changes, charges, or revelations, that her gloom lessened as she basked in it. The

season meanwhile was drawing onward to the equinox, and though it was still fine, the days were much

shorter. The dairy had again worked by morning candlelight for a long time; and a fresh renewal of Clare's

She had run up in her bedgown to his door to call him as usual; then had gone back to dress and call the

others; and in ten minutes was walking to the head of the stairs with the candle in her hand. At the same

moment he came down his steps from above in his shirtsleeves and put his arm across the stairway.

"Now, Miss Flirt, before you go down," he said peremptorily. "It is a fortnight since I spoke, and this won't

do any longer. You MUST tell me what you mean, or I shall have to leave this house. My door was ajar just

now, and I saw you. For your own safety I must go. You don't know. Well? Is it to be yes at last?"

"I am only just up, Mr Clare, and it is too early to take me to task!" she pouted. "You need not call me Flirt.

'Tis cruel and untrue. Wait till by and by. Please wait till by and by! I will really think seriously about it

She looked a little like what he said she was as, holding the candle sideways, she tried to smile away the

"'Twould mean that I agree, wouldn't it?" "It would only mean that you love me, even if you cannot marry

"Very well, then, 'Angel dearest', if I MUST," she murmured, looking at her candle, a roguish curl coming

Clare had resolved never to kiss her until he had obtained her promise; but somehow, as Tess stood there in

her prettily tuckedup milking gown, her hair carelessly heaped upon her head till there should be leisure to

arrange it when skimming and milking were done, he broke his resolve, and brought his lips to her cheek for

one moment. She passed downstairs very quickly, never looking back at him or saying another word. The

other maids were already down, and the subject was not pursued. Except Marian, they all looked wistfully

and suspiciously at the pair, in the sad yellow rays which the morning candles emitted in contrast with the

When skimming was donewhich, as the milk diminished with the approach of autumn, was a lessening

"Our tremulous lives are so different from theirs, are they not?" he musingly observed to her, as he regarded

"There are very few women's lives that are nottremulous," Tess replied, pausing over the new word as if it

"Almost either of 'em," she began, "would makeperhaps would makea properer wife than I. And

There were signs that it was an exquisite relief to her to hear the impatient exclamation, though she had

resolved so intrepidly to let generosity make one bid against herself. That was now done, and she had not the

power to attempt selfimmolation a second time then. They were joined by a milker from one of the cottages,

and no more was said on that which concerned them so deeply. But Tess knew that this day would decide it.

In the afternoon several of the dairyman's household and assistants went down to the meads as usual, a long

way from the dairy, where many of the cows were milked without being driven home. The supply was getting

less as the animals advanced in calf, and the supernumerary milkers of the lush green season had been

The work progressed leisurely. Each pailful was poured into tall cans that stood in a large springwaggon

which had been brought upon the scene; and when they were milked the cows trailed away. Dairyman Crick,

who was there with the rest, his wrapper gleaming miraculously white against a leaden evening sky, suddenly

"Why, 'tis later than I thought," he said. "Begad! We shan't be soon enough with this milk at the station, if we

don't mind. There's no time today to take it home and mix it with the bulk afore sending off. It must go to

Mr Clare volunteered to do so, though it was none of his business, asking Tess to accompany him. The

evening, though sunless, had been warm and muggy for the season, and Tess had come out with her

milkinghood only, nakedarmed and jacketless; certainly not dressed for a drive. She therefore replied by

glancing over her scant habiliments; but Clare gently urged her. She assented by relinquishing her pail and

In the diminishing daylight they went along the level roadway through the meads, which stretched away into

gray miles, and were backed in the extreme edge of distance by the swarthy and abrupt slopes of Egdon

Heath. On its summit stood clumps and stretches of firtrees, whose notched tips appeared like battlemented

They were so absorbed in the sense of being close to each other that they did not begin talking for a long

while, the silence being broken only by the clucking of the milk in the tall cans behind them. The lane they

followed was so solitary that the hazel nuts had remained on the boughs till they slipped from their shells, and

the blackberries hung in heavy clusters. Every now and then Angel would fling the lash of his whip round

The dull sky soon began to tell its meaning by sending down heralddrops of rain, and the stagnant air of the

day changed into a fitful breeze which played about their faces. The quicksilvery glaze on the rivers and

pools vanished; from broad mirrors of light they changed to lustreless sheets of lead, with a surface like a

rasp. But that spectacle did not affect her preoccupation. Her countenance, a natural carnation slightly

embrowned by the season, had deepened its tinge with the beating of the raindrops; and her hair, which the

pressure of the cows' flanks had, as usual, caused to tumble down from its fastenings and stray beyond the

curtain of her calico bonnet, was made clammy by the moisture, till it hardly was better than seaweed.

Remote Egdon disappeared by degree behind the liquid gauze. The evening grew darker, and the roads being

crossed by gates it was not safe to drive faster than at a walking pace. The air was rather chill.

"I am so afraid you will get cold, with nothing upon your arms and shoulders," he said. "Creep close to me,

and perhaps the drizzle won't hurt you much. I should be sorrier still if I did not think that the rain might be

She imperceptibly crept closer, and he wrapped round them both a large piece of sailcloth, which was

sometimes used to keep the sun off the milkcans. Tess held it from slipping off him as well as herself,

"Now we are all right again. Ahno we are not! It runs down into my neck a little, and it must still more into

yours. That's better. Your arms are like wet marble, Tess. Wipe them in the cloth. Now, if you stay quiet, you

will not get another drop. Well, dearabout that question of minethat longstanding question?"

The only reply that he could hear for a little while was the smack of the horse's hoofs on the moistening road,

He said no more then. As they drove on the fragment of an old manor house of Caroline date rose against the

"That," he observed, to entertain her, "is an interesting old placeone of the several seats which belonged to

an ancient Norman family formerly of great influence in this county, the d'Urbervilles. I never pass one of

their residences without thinking of them. There is something very sad in the extinction of a family of

They crept along towards a point in the expanse of shade just at hand at which a feeble light was beginning to

assert its presence, a spot where, by day, a fitful white streak of steam at intervals upon the dark green

background denoted intermittent moments of contact between their secluded world and modern life. Modern

life stretched out its steam feeler to this point three or four times a day, touched the native existences, and

They reached the feeble light, which came from the smoky lamp of a little railway station; a poor enough

terrestrial star, yet in one sense of more importance to Talbothays Dairy and mankind than the celestial ones

to which it stood in such humiliating contrast. The cans of new milk were unladen in the rain, Tess getting a

Then there was the hissing of a train, which drew up almost silently upon the wet rails, and the milk was

rapidly swung can by can into the truck. The light of the engine flashed for a second upon Tess Durbeyfield's

figure, motionless under the great holly tree. No object could have looked more foreign to the gleaming

cranks and wheels than this unsophisticated girl, with the round bare arms, the rainy face and hair, the

suspended attitude of a friendly leopard at pause, the print gown of no date or fashion, and the cotton bonnet

She mounted again beside her lover, with a mute obedience characteristic of impassioned natures at times,

and when they had wrapped themselves up over head and ears in the sailcloth again, they plunged back into

the now thick night. Tess was so receptive that the few minutes of contact with the whirl of material progress

"Londoners will drink it at their breakfasts tomorrow, won't they?" she asked. "Strange people that we have

"YesI suppose they will. Though not as we send it. When its strength has been lowered, so that it may not

"Noble men and noble women, ambassadors and centurions, ladies and tradeswomen, and babies who have

"Who don't know anything of us, and where it comes from; or think how we two drove miles across the moor

"We did not drive entirely on account of these precious Londoners; we drove a little on our ownon account

of that anxious matter which you will, I am sure, set at rest, dear Tess. Now, permit me to put it in this way.

"My only reason was on account of youon account of a question. I have something to tell you"

"But suppose it to be entirely for my happiness, and my worldly convenience also?"

"O yes; if it is for your happiness and worldly convenience. But my life before I came hereI want"

"Well, it is for my convenience as well as my happiness. If I have a very large farm, either English or

colonial, you will be invaluable as a wife to me; better than a woman out of the largest mansion in the

country. So pleaseplease, dear Tessy, disabuse your mind of the feeling that you will stand in my way."

"But my history. I want you to know ityou must let me tell youyou will not like me so well!"

"Tell it if you wish to, dearest. This precious history then. Yes, I was born at so and so, Anno Domini"

"I was born at Marlott," she said, catching at his words as a help, lightly as they were spoken. "And I grew up

there. And I was in the Sixth Standard when I left school, and they said I had great aptness, and should make

a good teacher, so it was settled that I should be one. But there was trouble in my family; father was not very

"IIam not a Durbeyfield, but a d'Urbervillea descendant of the same family as those that owned the

old house we passed. Andwe are all gone to nothing!" "A d'Urberville!Indeed! And is that all the

"Well, it is true, in one sense. I do hate the aristocratic principle of blood before everything, and do think that

as reasoners the only pedigrees we ought to respect are those spiritual ones of the wise and virtuous, without

regard to corporal paternity. But I am extremely interested in this newsyou can have no idea how

interested I am! Are you not interested yourself in being one of that wellknown line?"

"No. I have thought it sadespecially since coming here, and knowing that many of the hills and fields I see

once belonged to my father's people. But other hills and field belonged to Retty's people, and perhaps others

"Yesit is surprising how many of the present tillers of the soil were once owners of it, and I sometimes

wonder that a certain school of politicians don't make capital of the circumstance; but they don't seem to

know it.... I wonder that I did not see the resemblance of your name of d'Urberville, and trace the manifest

She had not told. At the last moment her courage had failed her, she feared his blame for not telling him

"Of course," continued the unwitting Clare, "I should have been glad to know you to be descended

exclusively from the longsuffering, dumb, unrecorded rank and file of the English nation, and not from the

selfseeking few who made themselves powerful at the expense of the rest. But I am corrupted away from

that by my affection for you, Tess (he laughed as he spoke), and made selfish likewise. For your own sake I

rejoice in your descent. Society is hopelessly snobbish, and this fact of your extraction may make an

appreciable difference to its acceptance of you as my wife, after I have made you the wellread woman that I

mean to make you. My mother too, poor soul, will think so much better of you on account of it. Tess, you

"But you MUST, dearest! Good heavens, why dozens of mushroom millionaires would jump at such a

possession! By the bye, there's one of that kidney who has taken the namewhere have I heard of

him?Up in the neighbourhood of The Chase, I think. Why, he is the very man who had that rumpus with

"Now then, Mistress Teresa d'Urberville, I have you. Take my name, and so you will escape yours! The

"If it is SURE to make you happy to have me as your wife, and you feel that you do wish to marry me,

"I mean, that it is only your wanting me very much, and being hardly able to keep alive without me, whatever

She had no sooner said it than she burst into a dry hard sobbing, so violent that it seemed to rend her. Tess

"I meanI cry because I have broken down in my vow! I said I would die unmarried!"

"Now, my dear Tess, if I did not know that you are very much excited, and very inexperienced, I should say

that remark was not very complimentary. How came you to wish that if you care for me? Do you care for

"How can I prove it more than I have done?" she cried, in a distraction of tenderness. "Will this prove it

She clasped his neck, and for the first time Clare learnt what an impassioned woman's kisses were like upon

So they drove on through the gloom, forming one bundle inside the sailcloth, the horse going as he would,

and the rain driving against them. She had consented. She might as well have agreed at first. The "appetite for

joy" which pervades all creation, that tremendous force which sways humanity to its purpose, as the tide

sways the helpless weed, was not to be controlled by vague lucubrations over the social rubric.

"Of course not, dear child. You are a child to me, Tess, not to know how very proper it is to write to your

mother at such a time, and how wrong it would be in me to object. Where does she live?"

"Yes; at that dance on the green; but you would not dance with me. O, I hope that is of no illomen for us

Tess wrote a most touching and urgent letter to her mother the very next day, and by the end of the week a

response to her communication arrive in Joan Durbeyfield's wandering lastcentury hand.

DEAR TESS,J write these few lines Hoping they will find you well, as they leave me at Present, thank

God for it. Dear Tess, we are all glad to Hear that you are going really to be married soon. But with respect to

your question, Tess, J say between ourselves, quite private but very strong, that on no account do you say a

word of your Bygone Trouble to him. J did not tell everything to your Father, he being so Proud on account

of his Respectability, which, perhaps, your Intended is the same. Many a womansome of the Highest in the

Landhave had a Trouble in their time; and why should you Trumpet yours when others don't Trumpet

theirs? No girl would be such a Fool, specially as it is so long ago, and not your Fault at all. J shall answer the

same if you ask me fifty times. Besides, you must bear in mind that, knowing it to be your Childish Nature to

tell all that's in your heartso simple!J made you promise me never to let it out by Word or Deed, having

your Welfare in my Mind; and you most solemnly did promise it going from this Door. J have not named

either that Question or your coming marriage to your Father, as he would blab it everywhere, poor Simple

Dear Tess, keep up your Spirits, and we mean to send you a Hogshead of Cyder for you Wedding, knowing

there is not much in your parts, and thin Sour Stuff what there is. So no more at present, and with kind love to

She was recognizing how light was the touch of events the most oppressive upon Mrs Durbeyfield's elastic

spirit. Her mother did not see life as Tess saw it. That haunting episode of bygone days was to her mother but

a passing accident. But perhaps her mother was right as to the course to be followed, whatever she might be

in her reasons. Silence seemed, on the face of it, best for her adored one's happiness: silence it should be.

Thus steadied by a command from the only person in the world who had any shadow of right to control her

action, Tess grew calmer. The responsibility was shifted, and her heart was lighter than it had been for weeks.

The days of declining autumn which followed her assent, beginning with the month of October, formed a

season through which she lived in spiritual altitudes more nearly approaching ecstasy than any other period of

There was hardly a touch of earth in her love for Clare. To her sublime trustfulness he was all that goodness

could beknew all that a guide, philosopher, and friend should know. She thought every line in the contour

of his person the perfection of masculine beauty, his soul the soul of a saint, his intellect that of a seer. The

wisdom of her love for him, as love, sustained her dignity; she seemed to be wearing a crown. The

compassion of his love for her, as she saw it, made her lift up her heart to him in devotion. He would

sometimes catch her large, worshipful eyes, that had no bottom to them looking at him from their depths, as if

She dismissed the pasttrod upon it and put it out, as one treads on a coal that is smouldering and

She had not known that men could be so disinterested, chivalrous, protective, in their love for women as he.

Angel Clare was far from all that she thought him in this respect; absurdly far, indeed; but he was, in truth,

more spiritual than animal; he had himself well in hand, and was singularly free from grossness. Though not

coldnatured, he was rather bright than hotless Byronic than Shelleyan; could love desperately, but with a

love more especially inclined to the imaginative and ethereal; it was a fastidious emotion which could

jealously guard the loved one against his very self. This amazed and enraptured Tess, whose slight

experiences had been so infelicitous till now; and in her reaction from indignation against the male sex she

They unaffectedly sought each other's company; in her honest faith she did not disguise her desire to be with

him. The sum of her instincts on this matter, if clearly stated, would have been that the elusive quality of her

sex which attracts men in general might be distasteful to so perfect a man after an avowal of love, since it

The country custom of unreserved comradeship out of doors during betrothal was the only custom she knew,

and to her it had no strangeness; though it seemed oddly anticipative to Clare till he saw how normal a thing

she, in common with all the other dairyfolk, regarded it. Thus, during this October month of wonderful

afternoons they roved along the meads by creeping paths which followed the brinks of trickling tributary

brooks, hopping across by little wooden bridges to the other side, and back again. They were never out of the

sound of some purling weir, whose buzz accompanied their own murmuring, while the beams of the sun,

almost as horizontal as the mead itself, formed a pollen of radiance over the landscape. They saw tiny blue

fogs in the shadows of trees and hedges, all the time that there was bright sunshine elsewhere. The sun was so

near the ground, and the sward so flat, that the shadows of Clare and Tess would stretch a quarter of a mile

ahead of them, like two long fingers pointing afar to where the green alluvial reaches abutted against the

Men were at work here and therefor it was the season for "taking up" the meadows, or digging the little

waterways clear for the winter irrigation, and mending their banks where trodden down by the cows. The

shovelfuls of loam, black as jet, brought there by the river when it was as wide as the whole valley, were an

essence of soils, pounded campaigns of the past, steeped, refined, and subtilized to extraordinary richness, out

Clare hardily kept his arm round her waist in sight of these watermen, with the air of a man who was

accustomed to public dalliance, though actually as shy as she who, with lips parted and eyes askance on the

"But if it should reach the ears of your friends at Emminster that you are walking about like this with me, a

"My dear girla d'Urberville hurt the dignity of a Clare!" It is a grand card to playthat of your belonging

to such a family, and I am reserving it for a grand effect when we are married, and have the proofs of your

descent from Parson Tringham. Apart from that, my future is to be totally foreign to my familyit will not

affect even the surface of their lives. We shall leave this part of Englandperhaps England itselfand what

She could answer no more than a bare affirmative, so great was the emotion aroused in her at the thought of

going through the world with him as his own familiar friend. Her feelings almost filled her ears like a babble

of waves, and surged up to her eyes. She put her hand in his, and thus they went on, to a place where the

reflected sun glared up from the river, under a bridge, with a moltenmetallic glow that dazzled their eyes,

though the sun itself was hidden by the bridge. They stood still, whereupon little furred and feathered heads

popped up from the smooth surface of the water; but, finding that the disturbing presences had paused, and

not passed by, they disappeared again. Upon this riverbrink they lingered till the fog began to close round

themwhich was very early in the evening at this time of the yearsettling on the lashes of her eyes, where

They walked later on Sundays, when it was quite dark. Some of the dairypeople, who were also out of doors

on the first Sunday evening after their engagement, heard her impulsive speeches, ecstasized to fragments,

though they were too far off to hear the words discoursed; noted the spasmodic catch in her remarks, broken

into syllables by the leapings of her heart, as she walked leaning on his arm; her contented pauses, the

occasional little laugh upon which her soul seemed to ridethe laugh of a woman in company with the man

she loves and has won from all other womenunlike anything else in nature. They marked the buoyancy of

Her affection for him was now the breath and life of Tess's being; it enveloped her as a photosphere,

irradiated her into forgetfulness of her past sorrows, keeping back the gloomy spectres that would persist in

their attempts to touch herdoubt, fear, moodiness, care, shame. She knew that they were waiting like

wolves just outside the circumscribing light, but she had long spells of power to keep them in hungry

A spiritual forgetfulness coexisted with an intellectual remembrance. She walked in brightness, but she

knew that in the background those shapes of darkness were always spread. They might be receding, or they

One evening Tess and Clare were obliged to sit indoors keeping house, all the other occupants of the domicile

being away. As they talked she looked thoughtfully up at him, and met his two appreciative eyes.

"I am not worthy of youno, I am not!" she burst out, jumping up from her low stool as though appalled at

Clare, deeming the whole basis of her excitement to be that which was only the smaller part of it, said

"I won't have you speak like it, dear Tess! Distinction does not consist in the facile use of a contemptible set

of conventions, but in being numbered among those who are true, and honest, and just, and pure, and lovely,

She struggled with the sob in her throat. How often had that string of excellences made her young heart ache

"Why didn't you stay and love me when Iwas sixteen; living with my little sisters and brothers, and you

danced on the green? O, why didn't you, why didn't you!" she said, impetuously clasping her hands.

Angel began to comfort and reassure her, thinking to himself, truly enough, what a creature of moods she

was, and how careful he would have to be of her when she depended for her happiness entirely on him.

"Ahwhy didn't I stay!" he said. "That is just what I feel. If I had only known! But you must not be so bitter

"I should have had four years more of your heart than I can ever have now. Then I should not have wasted

It was no mature woman with a long dark vista of intrigue behind her who was tormented thus; but a girl of

simple life, not yet oneand twenty, who had been caught during her days of immaturity like a bird in a

springe. To calm herself the more completely she rose from her little stool and left the room, overturning the

He sat on by the cheerful firelight thrown from a bundle of green ashsticks laid across the dogs; the sticks

snapped pleasantly, and hissed out bubbles of sap from their ends. When she came back she was herself

"Do you not think you are just a wee bit capricious, fitful, Tess?" he said, goodhumouredly, as he spread a

cushion for her on the stool, and seated himself in the settle beside her. "I wanted to ask you something, and

"Yes, perhaps I am capricious," she murmured. She suddenly approached him, and put a hand upon each of

his arms. "No, Angel, I am not really soby nature, I mean!" The more particularly to assure him that she

was not, she placed herself close to him in the settle, and allowed her head to find a restingplace against

Clare's shoulder. "What did you want to ask meI am sure I will answer it," she continued humbly.

"Well, you love me, and have agreed to marry me, and hence there follows a thirdly, 'When shall the day

"But I must think of starting in business on my own hook with the new year, or a little later. And before I get

involved in the multifarious details of my new position, I should like to have secured my partner."

"But," she timidly answered, "to talk quite practically, wouldn't it be best not to marry till after all

"Of course you cannotand it is not best in this case. I want you to help me in many ways in making my

The reality of marriage was startling when it loomed so near. Before discussion of the question had

proceeded further there walked round the corner of the settle into the full firelight of the apartment Mr

Tess sprang like an elastic ball from his side to her feet while her face flushed and her eyes shone in the

"I know how it would be if I sat so close to him!" she cried, with vexation. "I said to myself, they are sure to

come and catch us! But I wasn't really sitting on his knee, though it might ha' seemed as if I was almost!"

"Wellif so be you hadn't told us, I am sure we shouldn't ha' noticed that ye had been sitting anywhere at all

in this light," replied the dairyman. He continued to his wife, with the stolid mien of a man who understood

nothing of the emotions relating to matrimony"Now, Christianer, that shows that folks should never fancy

other folks be supposing things when they bain't. O no, I should never ha' thought a word of where she was a

"Ahand be ye! Well, I am truly glad to hear it, sir. I've thought you mid do such a thing for some time.

She's too good for a dairymaidI said so the very first day I zid herand a prize for any man; and what's

more, a wonderful woman for a gentlemanfarmer's wife; he won't be at the mercy of his baily wi' her at his

Somehow Tess disappeared. She had been even more struck with the look of the girls who followed Crick

After supper, when she reached her bedroom, they were all present. A light was burning, and each damsel

was sitting up whitely in her bed, awaiting Tess, the whole like a row of avenging ghosts.

But she saw in a few moments that there was no malice in their mood. They could scarcely feel as a loss what

"He's going to marry her!" murmured Retty, never taking eyes off Tess. "How her face do show it!"

And by a sort of fascination the three girls, one after another, crept out of their beds, and came and stood

barefooted round Tess. Retty put her hands upon Tess's shoulders, as if to realize her friend's corporeality

after such a miracle, and the other two laid their arms round her waist, all looking into her face.

"Was that because of love for her, or because other lips have touched there by now?" continued Izz drily to

"I wasn't thinking o' that," said Marian simply. "I was on'y feeling all the strangeness o'tthat she is to be his

wife, and nobody else. I don't say nay to it, nor either of us, because we did not think of itonly loved him.

Still, nobody else is to marry'n in the worldno fine lady, nobody in silks and satins; but she who do live

They hung about her in their white nightgowns before replying, as if they considered their answer might lie in

"I don't knowI don't know," murmured Retty Priddle. "I want to hate 'ee; but I cannot!" "That's how I feel,"

"We better than you?" said the girls in a low, slow whisper. "No, no, dear Tess!"

"You are!" she contradicted impetuously. And suddenly tearing away from their clinging arms she burst into

a hysterical fit of tears, bowing herself on the chest of drawers and repeating incessantly, "O yes, yes, yes!"

"He ought to have had one of you!" she cried. "I think I ought to make him even now! You would be better

"You are best for'n," said Marian. "More ladylike, and a better scholar than we, especially since he had taught

When they were all in bed, and the light was out, Marian whispered across to her

"You will think of us when you be his wife, Tess, and of how we told 'ee that we loved him, and how we tried

not to hate you, and did not hate you, and could not hate you, because you were his choice, and we never

They were not aware that, at these words, salt, stinging tears trickled down upon Tess's pillow anew, and how

she resolved, with a bursting heart, to tell all her history to Angel Clare, despite her mother's commandto

let him for whom she lived and breathed despise her if he would, and her mother regard her as a fool, rather

then preserve a silence which might be deemed a treachery to him, and which somehow seemed a wrong to

This penitential mood kept her from naming the weddingday. The beginning of November found its date

still in abeyance, though he asked her at the most tempting times. But Tess's desire seemed to be for a

The meads were changing now; but it was still warm enough in early afternoons before milking to idle there

awhile, and the state of dairywork at this time of year allowed a spare hour for idling. Looking over the

damp sod in the direction of the sun, a glistening ripple of gossamer webs was visible to their eyes under the

luminary, like the track of moonlight on the sea. Gnats, knowing nothing of their brief glorification,

wandered across the shimmer of this pathway, irradiated as if they bore fire within them, then passed out of

its line, and were quite extinct. In the presence of these things he would remind her that the date was still the

Or he would ask her at night, when he accompanied her on some mission invented by Mrs Crick to give him

the opportunity. This was mostly a journey to the farmhouse on the slopes above the vale, to inquire how the

advanced cows were getting on in the strawbarton to which they were relegated. For it was a time of the

year that brought great changes to the world of kine. Batches of the animals were sent away daily to this

lyingin hospital, where they lived on straw till their calves were born, after which event, and as soon as the

calf could walk, mother and offspring were driven back to the dairy. In the interval which elapsed before the

calves were sold there was, of course, little milking to be done, but as soon as the calf had been taken away

Returning from one of these dark walks they reached a great gravelcliff immediately over the levels, where

they stood still and listened. The water was now high in the streams, squirting through the weirs, and tinkling

under culverts; the smallest gullies were all full; there was no taking short cuts anywhere, and

footpassengers were compelled to follow the permanent ways. From the whole extent of the invisible vale

came a multitudinous intonation; it forced upon their fancy that a great city lay below them, and that the

"It seems like tens of thousands of them," said Tess; "holding publicmeetings in their marketplaces,

"Did Crick speak to you today, dear, about his not wanting much assistance during the winter months?"

"Yes. Six of seven went to the strawbarton yesterday, and three the day before, making nearly twenty in the

straw already. Ahis it that the farmer don't want my help for the calving? O, I am not wanted here any

"Crick didn't exactly say that he would no longer require you. But, knowing what our relations were, he said

in the most goodnatured and respectful manner possible that he supposed on my leaving at Christmas I

should take you with me, and on my asking what he would do without you he merely observed that, as a

matter of fact, it was a time of year when he could do with a very little female help. I am afraid I was sinner

"I don't think you ought to have felt glad, Angel. Because 'tis always mournful not to be wanted, even if at the

"Well, it is convenientyou have admitted that." He put his finger upon her cheek. "Ah!" he said.

"I feel the red rising up at her having been caught! But why should I trifle so! We will not triflelife is too

She was seeing it then. To decline to marry him after allin obedience to her emotion of last nightand

leave the dairy, meant to go to some strange place, not a dairy; for milkmaids were not in request now

calvingtime was coming on; to go to some arable farm where no divine being like Angel Clare was. She

"So that, seriously, dearest Tess," he continued, "since you will probably have to leave at Christmas, it is in

every way desirable and convenient that I should carry you off then as my property. Besides, if you were not

the most uncalculating girl in the world you would know that we could not go on like this for ever."

"I wish we could. That it would always be summer and autumn, and you always courting me, and always

"O, I know you will!" she cried, with a sudden fervour of faith in him. "Angel, I will fix the day when I will

Thus at last it was arranged between them, during that dark walk home, amid the myriads of liquid voices on

When they reached the dairy Mr and Mrs Crick were promptly toldwith injunctions of secrecy; for each of

the lovers was desirous that the marriage should be kept as private as possible. The dairyman, though he had

thought of dismissing her soon, now made a great concern about losing her. What should he do about his

skimming? Who would make the ornamental butterpats for the Anglebury and Sandbourne ladies? Mrs

Crick congratulated Tess on the shillyshallying having at last come to an end, and said that directly she set

eyes on Tess she divined that she was to be the chosen one of somebody who was no common outdoor man;

Tess had looked so superior as she walked across the barton on that afternoon of her arrival; that she was of a

good family she could have sworn. In point of fact Mrs Crick did remember thinking that Tess was graceful

and goodlooking as she approached; but the superiority might have been a growth of the imagination aided

Tess was now carried along upon the wings of the hours, without the sense of a will. The word had been

given; the number of the day written down. Her naturally bright intelligence had begun to admit the fatalistic

convictions common to fieldfolk and those who associate more extensively with natural phenomena than

with their fellowcreatures; and she accordingly drifted into that passive responsiveness to all things her

But she wrote anew to her mother, ostensibly to notify the weddingday; really to again implore her advice.

It was a gentleman who had chosen her, which perhaps her mother had not sufficiently considered. A

postnuptial explanation, which might be accepted with a light heart by a rougher man, might not be received

with the same feeling by him. But this communication brought no reply from Mrs Durbeyfield.

Despite Angel Clare's plausible representation to himself and to Tess of the practical need for their immediate

marriage, there was in truth an element of precipitancy in the step, as became apparent at a later date. He

loved her dearly, though perhaps rather ideally and fancifully than with the impassioned thoroughness of her

feeling for him. He had entertained no notion, when doomed as he had thought to an unintellectual bucolic

life, that such charms as he beheld in this idyllic creature would be found behind the scenes. Unsophistication

was a thing to talk of; but he had not known how it really struck one until he came here. Yet he was very far

from seeing his future track clearly, and it might be a year or two before he would be able to consider himself

fairly started in life. The secret lay in the tinge of recklessness imparted to his career and character by the

sense that he had been made to miss his true destiny through the prejudices of his family.

"Don't you think 'twould have been better for us to wait till you were quite settled in your midland farm?" she

"To tell the truth, my Tess, I don't like you to be left anywhere away from my protection and sympathy."

The reason was a good one, so far as it went. His influence over her had been so marked that she had caught

his manner and habits, his speech and phrases, his likings and his aversions. And to leave her in farmland

would be to let her slip back again out of accord with him. He wished to have her under his charge for

another reason. His parents had naturally desired to see her once at least before he carried her off to a distant

settlement, English or colonial; and as no opinion of theirs was to be allowed to change his intention, he

judged that a couple of months' life with him in lodgings whilst seeking for an advantageous opening would

be of some social assistance to her at what she might feel to be a trying ordealher presentation to his

mother at the Vicarage. Next, he wished to see a little of the working of a flourmill, having an idea that he

might combine the use of one with corngrowing. The proprietor of a large old watermill at

Wellbridgeonce the mill of an Abbeyhad offered him the inspection of his timehonoured mode of

procedure, and a hand in the operations for a few days, whenever he should choose to come. Clare paid a visit

to the place, some few miles distant, one day at this time, to inquire particulars, and returned to Talbothays in

the evening. She found him determined to spend a short time at the Wellbridge flourmills. And what had

determined him? Less the opportunity of an insight into grinding and bolting than the casual fact that

lodgings were to be obtained in that very farmhouse which, before its mutilation, had been the mansion of a

branch of the d'Urberville family. This was always how Clare settled practical questions; by a sentiment

which had nothing to do with them. They decided to go immediately after the wedding, and remain for a

"Then we will start off to examine some farms on the other side of London that I have heard of," he said,

Questions of procedure such as these arose and passed, and the day, the incredible day, on which she was to

become his, loomed large in the near future. The thirtyfirst of December, New Year's Eve, was the date. His

wife, she said to herself. Could it ever be? Their two selves together, nothing to divide them, every incident

"It should ha' been the first time of asking today," she answered, looking quietly at Tess. "You meant to be

"And there must be three times of asking. And now there be only two Sundays left between."

Tess felt her cheek paling; Izz was right; of course there must be three. Perhaps he had forgotten! If so, there

must be a week's postponement, and that was unlucky. How could she remind her lover? She who had been

so backward was suddenly fired with impatience and alarm lest she should lose her dear prize.

A natural incident relieved her anxiety. Izz mentioned the omission of the banns to Mrs Crick, and Mrs Crick

"Don't let them tease you about the banns. A licence will be quieter for us, and I have decided on a licence

without consulting you. So if you go to church on Sunday morning you will not hear your own name, if you

But to know that things were in train was an immense relief to Tess notwithstanding, who had wellnigh

feared that somebody would stand up and forbid the banns on the ground of her history. How events were

"I don't quite feel easy," she said to herself. "All this good fortune may be scourged out of me afterwards by a

lot of ill. That's how Heaven mostly does. I wish I could have had common banns!"

But everything went smoothly. She wondered whether he would like her to be married in her present best

white frock, or if she ought to buy a new one. The question was set at rest by his forethought, disclosed by the

arrival of some large packages addressed to her. Inside them she found a whole stock of clothing, from

bonnet to shoes, including a perfect morning costume, such as would well suit the simple wedding they

planned. He entered the house shortly after the arrival of the packages, and heard her upstairs undoing them.

"How thoughtful you've been!" she murmured, her cheek upon his shoulder. "Even to the gloves and

And to divert her from thinking too highly of him he told her to go upstairs, and take her time, and see if it all

She did return upstairs, and put on the gown. Alone, she stood for a moment before the glass looking at the

effect of her silk attire; and then there came into her head her mother's ballad of the mystic robe

which Mrs Durbeyfield had used to sing to her as a child, so blithely and so archly, her foot on the cradle,

which she rocked to the tune. Suppose this robe should betray her by changing colour, as her robe had

betrayed Queen Guenever. Since she had been at the dairy she had not once thought of the lines till now.

Angel felt that he would like to spend a day with her before the wedding, somewhere away from the dairy, as

a last jaunt in her company while there were yet mere lover and mistress; a romantic day, in circumstances

that would never be repeated; with that other and greater day beaming close ahead of them. During the

preceding week, therefore, he suggested making a few purchases in the nearest town, and they started

Clare's life at the dairy had been that of a recluse in respect the world of his own class. For months he had

never gone near a town, and, requiring no vehicle, had never kept one, hiring the dairyman's cob or gig if he

And then for the first time in their lives they shopped as partners in one concern. It was Christmas Eve, with

its loads a holly and mistletoe, and the town was very full of strangers who had come in from all parts of the

country on account of the day. Tess paid the penalty of walking about with happiness superadded to beauty

In the evening they returned to the inn at which they had put up, and Tess waited in the entry while Angel

went to see the horse and gig brought to the door. The general sittingroom was full of guests, who were

continually going in and out. As the door opened and shut each time for the passage of these, the light within

the parlour fell full upon Tess's face. Two men came out and passed by her among the rest. One of them had

stared her up and down in surprise, and she fancied he was a Trantridge man, though that village lay so many

"True, comely enough. But unless I make a great mistake" And negatived the remainder of the

Clare had just returned from the stableyard, and, confronting the man on the threshold, heard the words, and

saw the shrinking of Tess. The insult to her stung him to the quick, and before he had considered anything at

all he struck the man on the chin with the full force of his fist, sending him staggering backwards into the

The man recovered himself, and seemed inclined to come on, and Clare, stepping outside the door, put

himself in a posture of defence. But his opponent began to think better of the matter. He looked anew at Tess

"I beg pardon, sir; 'twas a complete mistake. I thought she was another woman, forty miles from here."

Clare, feeling then that he had been too hasty, and that he was, moreover, to blame for leaving her standing in

an innpassage, did what he usually did in such cases, gave the man five shillings to plaster the blow; and

thus they parted, bidding each other a pacific goodnight. As soon as Clare had taken the reins from the ostler,

and the young couple had driven off, the two men went in the other direction. "And was it a mistake?" said

"Could we put off our wedding till a little later?" Tess asked in a dry dull voice. "I mean if we wished?"

"No, my love. Calm yourself. Do you mean that the fellow may have time to summon me for assault?" he

What she meant was not very clear, and he directed her to dismiss such fancies from her mind, which she

obediently did as well as she could. But she was grave, very grave, all the way home; till she thought, "We

shall go away, a very long distance, hundreds of miles from these parts, and such as this can never happen

They parted tenderly that night on the landing, and Clare ascended to his attic. Tess sat up getting on with

some little requisites, lest the few remaining days should not afford sufficient times. While she sat she heard a

noise in Angel's room overhead, a sound of thumping and struggling. Everybody else in the house was asleep,

and in her anxiety lest Clare should be ill she ran up and knocked at his door, and asked him what was the

"Oh, nothing, dear," he said from within. "I am so sorry I disturbed you! But the reason is rather an amusing

one: I fell asleep and dreamt that I was fighting that fellow again who insulted you and the noise you heard

was my pummelling away with my fists at my portmanteau, which I pulled out today for packing. I am

occasionally liable to these freaks in my sleep. Go to bed and think of it no more."

This was the last drachm required to turn the scale of her indecision. Declare the past to him by word of

mouth she could not; but there was another way. She sat down and wrote on the four pages of a notesheet a

succinct narrative of those events of three or four years ago, put it into an envelope, and directed it to Clare.

Then, lest the flesh should again be weak, she crept upstairs without any shoes and slipped the note under his

Her night was a broken one, as it well might be, and she listened for the first faint noise overhead. It came, as

usual; he descended, as usual. She descended. He met her at the bottom of the stairs and kissed her. Surely it

He looked a little disturbed and worn, she thought. But he said not a word to her about her revelation, even

when they were alone. Could he have had it? Unless he began the subject she felt that she could say nothing.

So the day passed, and it was evident that whatever he thought he meant to keep to himself. Yet he was frank

and affectionate as before. Could it be that her doubts were childish? that he forgave her; that he loved her for

what she was, just as she was, and smiled at her disquiet as at a foolish nightmare? Had he really received her

note? She glanced into his room, and could see nothing of it. It might be that he forgave her. But even if he

had not received it she had a sudden enthusiastic trust that he surely would forgive her.

Every morning and night he was the same, and thus New Year's Eve brokethe wedding day.

The lovers did not rise at milkingtime, having through the whole of this last week of their sojourn at the

dairy been accorded something of the position of guests, Tess being honoured with a room of her own. When

they arrived downstairs at breakfasttime they were surprised to see what effects had been produced in the

large kitchen for their glory since they had last beheld it. At some unnatural hour of the morning the

dairyman had caused the yawning chimneycorner to be whitened, and the brick hearth reddened, and a

blazing yellow damask blower to be hung across the arch in place of the old grimy blue cotton one with a

black sprig pattern which had formerly done duty there. This renovated aspect of what was the focus indeed

of the room on a full winter morning, threw a smiling demeanour over the whole apartment.

"I was determined to do summat in honour o't", said the dairyman. "And as you wouldn't hear of my gieing a

rattling good randy wi' fiddles and bassviols complete, as we should ha' done in old times, this was all I

Tess's friends lived so far off that none could conveniently have been present at the ceremony, even had any

been asked; but as a fact nobody was invited from Marlott. As for Angel's family, he had written and duly

informed them of the time, and assured them that he would be glad to see one at least of them there for the

day if he would like to come. His brothers had not replied at all, seeming to be indignant with him; while his

father and mother had written a rather sad letter, deploring his precipitancy in rushing into marriage, but

making the best of the matter by saying that, though a dairywoman was the last daughterinlaw they could

have expected, their son had arrived at an age which he might be supposed to be the best judge.

This coolness in his relations distressed Clare less than it would have done had he been without the grand

card with which he meant to surprise them ere long. To produce Tess, fresh from the dairy, as a d'Urberville

and a lady, he had felt to be temerarious and risky; hence he had concealed her lineage till such time as,

familiarized with worldly ways by a few months' travel and reading with him, he could take her on a visit to

his parents, and impart the knowledge while triumphantly producing her as worthy of such an ancient line. It

was a pretty lover's dream, if no more. Perhaps Tess's lineage had more value for himself than for anybody in

Her perception that Angel's bearing towards her still remained in no whit altered by her own communication

rendered Tess guiltily doubtful if he could have received it. She rose from breakfast before he had finished,

and hastened upstairs. It had occurred to her to look once more into the queer gaunt room which had been

Clare's den, or rather eyrie, for so long, and climbing the ladder she stood at the open door of the apartment,

regarding and pondering. She stooped to the threshold of the doorway, where she had pushed in the note two

or three days earlier in such excitement. The carpet reached close to the sill, and under the edge of the carpet

she discerned the faint white margin of the envelope containing her letter to him, which he obviously had

never seen, owing to her having in her haste thrust it beneath the carpet as well as beneath the door.

With a feeling of faintness she withdrew the letter. There it wassealed up, just as it had left her hands. The

mountain had not yet been removed. She could not let him read it now, the house being in full bustle of

She was so pale when he saw her again that he felt quite anxious. The incident of the misplaced letter she had

jumped at as if it prevented a confession; but she knew in her conscience that it need not; there was still time.

Yet everything was in a stir; there was coming and going; all had to dress, the dairyman and Mrs Crick

having been asked to accompany them as witnesses; and reflection or deliberate talk was wellnigh

impossible. The only minute Tess could get to be alone with Clare was when they met upon the landing.

"I am so anxious to talk to youI want to confess all my faults and blunders!" she said with attempted

"No, nowe can't have faults talked ofyou must be deemed perfect today at least, my Sweet!" he cried.

"We shall have plenty of time, hereafter, I hope, to talk over our failings. I will confess mine at the same

"But it would be better for me to do it now, I think, so that you could not say"

"Well, my quixotic one, you shall tell me anythingsay, as soon as we are settled in our lodging; not now. I,

too, will tell you my faults then. But do not let us spoil the day with them; they will be excellent matter for a

The hurry of dressing and starting left no time for more than this. Those words of his seemed to reassure her

on further reflection. She was whirled onward through the next couple of critical hours by the mastering tide

of her devotion to him, which closed up further meditation. Her one desire, so long resisted, to make herself

his, to call him her lord, her ownthen, if necessary, to diehad at last lifted her up from her plodding

reflective pathway. In dressing, she moved about in a mental cloud of manycoloured idealities, which

The church was a long way off, and they were obliged to drive, particularly as it was winter. A close carriage

was ordered from a roadside inn, a vehicle which had been kept there ever since the old days of postchaise

travelling. It had stout wheelspokes, and heavy felloes, a great curved bed, immense straps and springs, and

a pole like a batteringram. The postilion was a venerable "boy" of sixtya martyr to rheumatic gout, the

result of excessive exposure in youth, counteracted by strong liquorswho had stood at inndoors doing

nothing for the whole fiveand twenty years that had elapsed since he had no longer been required to ride

professionally, as if expecting the old times to come back again. He had a permanent running wound on the

outside of his right leg, originated by the constant bruisings of aristocratic carriagepoles during the many

Inside this cumbrous and creaking structure, and behind this decayed conductor, the PARTIE CARREE took

their seatsthe bride and bridegroom and Mr and Mrs Crick. Angel would have liked one at least of his

brothers to be present as groomsman, but their silence after his gentle hint to that effect by letter had signified

that they did not care to come. They disapproved of the marriage, and could not be expected to countenance

it. Perhaps it was as well that they could not be present. They were not worldly young fellows, but

fraternizing with dairyfolk would have struck unpleasantly upon their biassed niceness, apart from their

Upheld by the momentum of the time Tess knew nothing of this; did not see anything; did not know the road

they were taking to the church. She knew that Angel was close to her; all the rest was a luminous mist. She

was a sort of celestial person, who owed her being to poetryone of those classical divinities Clare was

The marriage being by licence there were only a dozen or so of people in the church; had there been a

thousand they would have produced no more effect upon her. They were at stellar distances from her present

world. In the ecstatic solemnity with which she swore her faith to him the ordinary sensibilities of sex seemed

a flippancy. At a pause in the service, while they were kneeling together, she unconsciously inclined herself

towards him, so that her shoulder touched his arm; she had been frightened by a passing thought, and the

movement had been automatic, to assure herself that he was really there, and to fortify her belief that his

Clare knew that she loved himevery curve of her form showed thatbut he did not know at that time the

full depth of her devotion, its singlemindedness, its meekness; what longsuffering it guaranteed, what

As they came out of church the ringers swung the bells off their rests, and a modest peal of three notes broke

forththat limited amount of expression having been deemed sufficient by the church builders for the joys

of such a small parish. Passing by the tower with her husband on the path to the gate she could feel the

vibrant air humming round them from the louvred belfry in the circle of sound, and it matched the

This condition of mind, wherein she felt glorified by an irradiation not her own, like the angel whom St John

saw in the sun, lasted till the sound of the church bells had died away, and the emotions of the

weddingservice had calmed down. Her eyes could dwell upon details more clearly now, and Mr and Mrs

Crick having directed their own gig to be sent for them, to leave the carriage to the young couple, she

observed the build and character of that conveyance for the first time. Sitting in silence she regarded it long.

"Yes," she answered, putting her hand to her brow. "I tremble at many things. It is all so serious, Angel.

Among other things I seem to have seen this carriage before, to very well acquainted with it. It is very oddI

"Ohyou have heard the legend of the d'Urberville Coachthat wellknown superstition of this county

about your family when they were very popular here; and this lumbering old thing reminds you of it."

"I have never heard of it to my knowledge," said she. "What is the legendmay I know it?"

"WellI would rather not tell it in detail just now. A certain d'Urberville of the sixteenth or seventeenth

century committed a dreadful crime in his family coach; and since that time members of the family see or

hear the old coach wheneverBut I'll tell you another dayit is rather gloomy. Evidently some dim

knowledge of it has been brought back to your mind by the sight of this venerable caravan."

"I don't remember hearing it before," she murmured. "Is it when we are going to die, Angel, that members of

By the time they reached home she was contrite and spiritless. She was Mrs Angel Clare, indeed, but had she

any moral right to the name? Was she not more truly Mrs Alexander d'Urberville? Could intensity of love

justify what might be considered in upright souls as culpable reticence? She knew not what was expected of

However, when she found herself alone in her room for a few minutesthe last day this on which she was

ever to enter itshe knelt down and prayed. She tried to pray to God, but it was her husband who really had

her supplication. Her idolatry of this man was such that she herself almost feared it to be illomened. She

was conscious of the notion expressed by Friar Laurence: "These violent delights have violent ends." It might

"O my love, why do I love you so!" she whispered there alone; "for she you love is not my real self, but one

Afternoon came, and with it the hour for departure. They had decided to fulfil the plan of going for a few

days to the lodgings in the old farmhouse near Wellbridge Mill, at which he meant to reside during his

investigation of flour processes. At two o'clock there was nothing left to do but to start. All the servantry of

the dairy were standing in the redbrick entry to see them go out, the dairyman and his wife following to the

door. Tess saw her three chambermates in a row against the wall, pensively inclining their heads. She had

much questioned if they would appear at the parting moment; but there they were, stoical and staunch to the

last. She knew why the delicate Retty looked to fragile, and Izz so tragically sorrowful and Marian so blank;

Clare had not the least objection to such a farewell formalitywhich was all that it was to himand as he

passed them he kissed them in succession where they stood, saying "Goodbye" to each as he did so. When

they reached the door Tess femininely glanced back to discern the effect of that kiss of charity; there was no

triumph in her glance, as there might have been. If there had it would have disappeared when she saw how

moved the girls all were. The kiss had obviously done harm by awakening feelings they were trying to

Of all this Clare was unconscious. Passing on to the wicketgate he shook hands with the dairyman and his

wife, and expressed his last thanks to them for their attentions; after which there was a moment of silence

before they had moved off. It was interrupted by the crowing of a cock. The white one with the rose comb

had come and settled on the palings in front of the house, within a few yards of them, and his notes thrilled

"That's bad," one murmured to the other, not thinking that the words could be heard by the group at the

"I don't like to hear him!" said Tess to her husband. "Tell the man to drive on. Goodbye, goodbye!"

"Hoosh! Just you be off, sir, or I'll twist your neck!" said the dairyman with some irritation, turning to the

bird and driving him away. And to his wife as they went indoors: "Now, to think o' that just today! I've not

"It only means a change in the weather," said she; "not what you think: 'tis impossible!"

They drove by the level road along the valley to a distance of a few miles, and, reaching Wellbridge, turned

away from the village to the left, and over the great Elizabethan bridge which gives the place half its name.

Immediately behind it stood the house wherein they had engaged lodgings, whose exterior features are so

well known to all travellers through the Froom Valley; once portion of a fine manorial residence, and the

property and seat of a d'Urberville, but since its partial demolition a farmhouse.

"Welcome to one of your ancestral mansions!" said Clare as he handed her down. But he regretted the

On entering they found that, though they had only engaged a couple of rooms, the farmer had taken

advantage of their proposed presence during the coming days to pay a New Year's visit to some friends,

leaving a woman from a neighbouring cottage to minister to their few wants. The absoluteness of possession

pleased them, and they realized it as the first moment of their experience under their own exclusive rooftree.

But he found that the mouldy old habitation somewhat depressed his bride. When the carriage was gone they

ascended the stairs to wash their hands, the charwoman showing the way. On the landing Tess stopped and

He looked up, and perceived two lifesize portraits on panels built into the masonry. As all visitors to the

mansion are aware, these paintings represent women of middle age, of a date some two hundred years ago,

whose lineaments once seen can never be forgotten. The long pointed features, narrow eye, and smirk of the

one, so suggestive of merciless treachery; the billhook nose, large teeth, and bold eye of the other

suggesting arrogance to the point of ferocity, haunt the beholder afterwards in his dreams.

"I have been told by old folk that they were ladies of the d'Urberville family, the ancient lords of this manor,"

she said, "Owing to their being builded into the wall they can't be moved away."

The unpleasantness of the matter was that, in addition to their effect upon Tess, her fine features were

unquestionably traceable in these exaggerated forms. He said nothing of this, however, and, regretting that he

had gone out of his way to choose the house for their bridal time, went on into the adjoining room. The place

having been rather hastily prepared for them they washed their hands in one basin. Clare touched hers under

"Which are my fingers and which are yours?" he said, looking up. "They are very much mixed."

"They are all yours," said she, very prettily, and endeavoured to be gayer than she was. He had not been

displeased with her thoughtfulness on such an occasion; it was what every sensible woman would show: but

The sun was so low on that short last afternoon of the year that it shone in through a small opening and

formed a golden staff which stretched across to her skirt, where it made a spot like a paintmark set upon her.

They went into the ancient parlour to tea, and here they shared their first common meal alone. Such was their

childishness, or rather his, that he found it interesting to use the same breadandbutter plate as herself, and

to brush crumbs from her lips with his own. He wondered a little that she did not enter into these frivolities

Looking at her silently for a long time; "She is a dear dear Tess," he thought to himself, as one deciding on

the true construction of a difficult passage. "Do I realize solemnly enough how utterly and irretrievably this

little womanly thing is the creature of my good or bad faith and fortune? I think not. I think I could not,

unless I were a woman myself. What I am in worldly estate, she is. What I become, she must become. What I

cannot be, she cannot be. And shall I ever neglect her, or hurt her, or even forget to consider her? God forbid

They sat on over the teatable waiting for their luggage, which the dairyman had promised to send before it

grew dark. But evening began to close in, and the luggage did not arrive, and they had brought nothing more

than they stood in. With the departure of the sun the calm mood of the winter day changed. Out of doors there

began noises as of silk smartly rubbed; the restful dead leaves of the preceding autumn were stirred to

irritated resurrection, and whirled about unwillingly, and tapped against the shutters. It soon began to rain.

The woman who had attended upon them had gone home for the night, but she had placed candles upon the

"These old houses are so draughty," continued Angel, looking at the flames, and at the grease guttering down

"Tess, you are not a bit cheerful this eveningnot at all as you used to be. Those harridans on the panels

upstairs have unsettled you. I am sorry I brought you here. I wonder if you really love me, after all?" He

knew that she did, and the words had no serious intent; but she was surcharged with emotion, and winced like

a wounded animal. Though she tried not to shed tears she could not help showing one or two.

"I did not mean it!" said he, sorry. "You are worried at not having your things, I know. I cannot think why old

A knock had come to the door, and, there being nobody else to answer it, Clare went out. He returned to the

The packet had been brought by a special messenger, who had arrived at Talbothays from Emminster

Vicarage immediately after the departure of the married couple, and had followed them hither, being under

injunction to deliver it into nobody's hands but theirs. Clare brought it to the light. It was less than a foot long,

sewed up in canvas, sealed in red wax with his father's seal, and directed in his father's hand to "Mrs Angel

"It is a little weddingpresent for you, Tess," said he, handing it to her. "How thoughtful they are!"

"I think I would rather have you open it, dearest," said she, turning over the parcel. "I don't like to break those

He undid the parcel. Inside was a case of morocco leather, on the top of which lay a note and a key.

Possibly you have forgotten that on the death of your godmother, Mrs Pitney, when you were a lad,

shevain kind woman that she wasleft to me a portion of the contents of her jewelcase in trust for your

wife, if you should ever have one, as a mark of her affection for you and whomsoever you should choose.

This trust I have fulfilled, and the diamonds have been locked up at my banker's ever since. Though I feel it

to be a somewhat incongruous act in the circumstances, I am, as you will see, bound to hand over the articles

to the woman to whom the use of them for her lifetime will now rightly belong, and they are therefore

promptly sent. They become, I believe, heirlooms, strictly speaking, according to the terms of your

godmother's will. The precise words of the clause that refers to this matter are enclosed.

Unlocking the case, they found it to contain a necklace, with pendant, bracelets, and earrings; and also some

Tess seemed afraid to touch them at first, but her eyes sparkled for a moment as much as the stones when

He looked into the fire. He remembered how, when he was a lad of fifteen, his godmother, the Squire's

wifethe only rich person with whom he had ever come in contacthad pinned her faith to his success; had

prophesied a wondrous career for him. There had seemed nothing at all out of keeping with such a

conjectured career in the storing up of these showy ornaments for his wife and the wives of her descendants.

They gleamed somewhat ironically now. "Yet why?" he asked himself. It was but a question of vanity

throughout; and if that were admitted into one side of the equation it should be admitted into the other. His

But as if by magic she had already donned them necklace, earrings, bracelets, and all.

"But the gown isn't right, Tess," said Clare. "It ought to be a low one for a set of brilliants like that."

He suggested to her how to tuck in the upper edge of her bodice, so as to make it roughly approximate to the

cut for evening wear; and when she had done this, and the pendant to the necklace hung isolated amid the

whiteness of her throat, as it was designed to do, he stepped back to survey her.

As everybody knows, fine feathers make fine birds; a peasant girl but very moderately prepossessing to the

casual observer in her simple condition and attire, will bloom as an amazing beauty if clothed as a woman of

fashion with the aids that Art can render; while the beauty of the midnight crush would often cut but a sorry

figure if placed inside the fieldwoman's wrapper upon a monotonous acreage of turnips on a dull day. He

had never till now estimated the artistic excellence of Tess's limbs and features.

"If you were only to appear in a ballroom!" he said. "But nono, dearest; I think I love you best in the

wingbonnet and cottonfrockyes, better than in this, well as you support these dignities."

Tess's sense of her striking appearance had given her a flush of excitement, which was yet not happiness.

"I'll take them off," she said, "in case Jonathan should see me. They are not fit for me, are they? They must be

"Let them stay a few minutes longer. Sell them? Never. It would be a breach of faith."

Influenced by a second thought she readily obeyed. She had something to tell, and there might be help in

these. She sat down with the jewels upon her; and they again indulged in conjectures as to where Jonathan

could possibly be with their baggage. The ale they had poured out for his consumption when he came had

Shortly after this they began supper, which was already laid on a sidetable. Ere they had finished there was

a jerk in the firesmoke, the rising skein of which bulged out into the room, as if some giant had laid his hand

on the chimneytop for a moment. It had been caused by the opening of the outer door. A heavy step was

"I couldn' make nobody hear at all by knocking," apologized Jonathan Kail, for it was he at last; "and as't was

There was something subdued in Jonathan Kail's tone which had not been there in the day, and lines of

concern were ploughed upon his forehead in addition to the lines of years. He continued

"We've all been gallied at the dairy at what might ha' been a most terrible affliction since you and your

Mis'essso to name her nowleft us this a'ternoon. Perhaps you ha'nt forgot the cock's afternoon crow?"

"Well, some says it do mane one thing, and some another; but what's happened is that poor little Retty Priddle

"Yes. Well, sir, when you and your Mis'essso to name what she lawful iswhen you two drove away, as I

say, Retty and Marian put on their bonnets and went out; and as there is not much doing now, being New

Year's Eve, and folks mops and brooms from what's inside 'em, nobody took much notice. They went on to

LewEverard, where they had summut to drink, and then on they vamped to Dreearmed Cross, and there

they seemed to have parted, Retty striking across the watermeads as if for home, and Marian going on to the

next village, where there's another publichouse. Nothing more was zeed or heard o' Retty till the waterman,

on his way home, noticed something by the Great Pool; 'twas her bonnet and shawl packed up. In the water

he found her. He and another man brought her home, thinking a' was dead; but she fetched round by

Angel, suddenly recollecting that Tess was overhearing this gloomy tale, went to shut the door between the

passage and the anteroom to the inner parlour where she was; but his wife, flinging a shawl round her, had

come to the outer room and was listening to the man's narrative, her eyes resting absently on the luggage and

"And, more than this, there's Marian; she's been found dead drunk by the withybeda girl who hev never

been known to touch anything before except shilling ale; though, to be sure, 'a was always a good trencher

woman, as her face showed. It seems as if the maids had all gone out o' their minds!"

"Izz is about house as usual; but 'a do say 'a can guess how it happened; and she seems to be very low in mind

about it, poor maid, as well she mid be. And so you see, sir, as all this happened just when we was packing

your few traps and your Mis'ess's nightrail and dressing things into the cart, why, it belated me."

"Yes. Well, Jonathan, will you get the trunks upstairs, and drink a cup of ale, and hasten back as soon as you

Tess had gone back to the inner parlour, and sat down by the fire, looking wistfully into it. She heard

Jonathan Kail's heavy footsteps up and down the stairs till he had done placing the luggage, and heard him

express his thanks for the ale her husband took out to him, and for the gratuity he received. Jonathan's

Angel slid forward the massive oak bar which secured the door, and coming in to where she sat over the

hearth, pressed her cheeks between his hands from behind. He expected her to jump up gaily and unpack the

toiletgear that she had been so anxious about, but as she did not rise he sat down with her in the firelight, the

candles on the suppertable being too thin and glimmering to interfere with its glow.

"I am so sorry you should have heard this sad story about the girls," he said. "Still, don't let it depress you.

"Without the least cause," said Tess. "While they who have cause to be, hide it, and pretend they are not."

This incident had turned the scale for her. They were simple and innocent girls on whom the unhappiness of

unrequited love had fallen; they had deserved better at the hands of Fate. She had deserved worseyet she

was the chosen one. It was wicked of her to take all without paying. She would pay to the uttermost farthing;

she would tell, there and then. This final determination she came to when she looked into the fire, he holding

A steady glare from the now flameless embers painted the sides and back of the fireplace with its colour, and

the wellpolished andirons, and the old brass tongs that would not meet. The underside of the mantelshelf

was flushed with the highcoloured 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 Siriusa constellation of white,

"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

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? Ahyou 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

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

lifemy 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 agoat 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 landingthe sinner that I was! But I must, now I see you sitting there so

"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 think of plenary inspiration, one must heartily subscribe to

these words of Paul: 'Be thou an example in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.'

It is the only safeguard for us poor human beings. 'INTEGER VITAE,' says a Roman poet, who is strange

The man of upright life, from frailties free, Stands not in need of Moorish spear or bow

Well, a certain place is paved with good intentions, and having felt all that so strongly, you will see what a

terrible remorse it bred in me when, in the midst of my fine aims for other people, I myself fell."

He then told her of that time of his life to which allusion has been made when, tossed about by doubts and

difficulties in London, like a cork on the waves, he plunged into eightandforty hours' dissipation with a

"Happily I awoke almost immediately to a sense of my folly," he continued. "I would have no more to say to

her, and I came home. I have never repeated the offence. But I felt I should like to treat you with perfect

frankness and honour, and I could not do so without telling this. Do you forgive me?"

"Then we will dismiss it at once and for ever!too painful as it is for the occasionand talk of something

"O, AngelI am almost gladbecause now YOU can forgive ME! I have not made my confession. I have a

"It cannotO no, it cannot!" She jumped up joyfully at the hope. "No, it cannot be more serious, certainly,"

Their hands were still joined. The ashes under the grate were lit by the fire vertically, like a torrid waste.

Imagination might have beheld a Last Day luridness in this redcoaled glow, which fell on his face and hand,

and on hers, peering into the loose hair about her brow, and firing the delicate skin underneath. A large

shadow of her shape rose upon the wall and ceiling. She bent forward, at which each diamond on her neck

gave a sinister wink like a toad's; and pressing her forehead against his temple she entered on her story of her

acquaintance with Alec d'Urberville and its results, murmuring the words without flinching, and with her

Her narrative ended; even its reassertions and secondary explanations were done. Tess's voice throughout

had hardly risen higher than its opening tone; there had been no exculpatory phrase of any kind, and she had

But the complexion even of external things seemed to suffer transmutation as her announcement progressed.

The fire in the grate looked impishdemoniacally funny, as if it did not care in the least about her strait. The

fender grinned idly, as if it too did not care. The light from the waterbottle was merely engaged in a

chromatic problem. All material objects around announced their irresponsibility with terrible iteration. And

yet nothing had changed since the moments when he had been kissing her; or rather, nothing in the substance

When she ceased the auricular impressions from their previous endearments seemed to hustle away into the

corner of their brains, repeating themselves as echoes from a time of supremely purblind foolishness.

Clare performed the irrelevant act of stirring the fire; the intelligence had not even yet got to the bottom of

him. After stirring the embers he rose to his feet; all the force of her disclosure had imparted itself now. His

face had withered. In the strenuousness of his concentration he treadled fitfully on the floor. He could not, by

any contrivance, think closely enough; that was the meaning of his vague movement. When he spoke it was

in the most inadequate, commonplace voice of the many varied tones she had heard from him.

"Am I to believe this? From your manner I am to take it as true. O you cannot be out of your mind! You

ought to be! Yet you are not. ... My wife, my Tessnothing in you warrants such a supposition as that?"

"And yet" He looked vacantly at her, to resume with dazed senses: "Why didn't you tell me before? Ah,

These and other of his words were nothing but the perfunctory babble of the surface while the depths

remained paralyzed. He turned away, and bent over a chair. Tess followed him to the middle of the room

where he was, and stood there staring at him with eyes that did not weep. Presently she slid down upon her

"In the name of our love, forgive me!" she whispered with a dry mouth. "I have forgiven you for the same!"

"O Tess, forgiveness does not apply to the case! You were one person; now you are another. My Godhow

He paused, contemplating this definition; then suddenly broke into horrible laughteras unnatural and

"Don'tdon't! It kills me quite, that!" she shrieked. "O have mercy upon mehave mercy!"

"Angel, Angel! what do you mean by that laugh?" she cried out. "Do you know what this is to me?"

"I have been hoping, longing, praying, to make you happy! I have thought what joy it will be to do it, what an

"I thought, Angel, that you loved meme, my very self! If it is I you do love, O how can it be that you look

and speak so? It frightens me! Having begun to love you, I love you for everin all changes, in all disgraces,

because you are yourself. I ask no more. Then how can you, O my own husband, stop loving me?"

She perceived in his words the realization of her own apprehensive foreboding in former times. He looked

upon her as a species of imposter; a guilty woman in the guise of an innocent one. Terror was upon her white

face as she saw it; her cheek was flaccid, and her mouth had almost the aspect of a round little hole. The

horrible sense of his view of her so deadened her that she staggered; and he stepped forward, thinking she

"Sit down, sit down," he said gently. "You are ill; and it is natural that you should be."

She did sit down, without knowing where she was, that strained look still upon her face, and her eyes such as

"I don't belong to you any more, then; do I, Angel?" she asked helplessly. "It is not me, but another woman

The image raised caused her to take pity upon herself as one who was illused. Her eyes filled as she

regarded her position further; she turned round and burst into a flood of selfsympathetic tears.

Clare was relieved at this change, for the effect on her of what had happened was beginning to be a trouble to

him only less than the woe of the disclosure itself. He waited patiently, apathetically, till the violence of her

grief had worn itself out, and her rush of weeping had lessened to a catching gasp at intervals.

"Angel," she said suddenly, in her natural tones, the insane, dry voice of terror having left her now. "Angel,

"I shan't ask you to let me live with you, Angel, because I have no right to! I shall not write to mother and

sisters to say we be married, as I said I would do; and I shan't finish the goodhussif' I cut out and meant to

"No, I shan't do anything, unless you order me to; and if you go away from me I shall not follow 'ee; and if

"You are very good. But it strikes me that there is a want of harmony between your present mood of

These were the first words of antagonism. To fling elaborate sarcasms at Tess, however, was much like

flinging them at a dog or cat. The charms of their subtlety passed by her unappreciated, and she only received

them as inimical sounds which meant that anger ruled. She remained mute, not knowing that he was

smothering his affection for her. She hardly observed that a tear descended slowly upon his cheek, a tear so

large that it magnified the pores of the skin over which it rolled, like the object lens of a microscope.

Meanwhile reillumination as to the terrible and total change that her confession had wrought in his life, in his

universe, returned to him, and he tried desperately to advance among the new conditions in which he stood.

"Tess," he said, as gently as he could speak, "I cannot stayin this roomjust now. I will walk out a little

He quietly left the room, and the two glasses of wine that he had poured out for their supperone for her,

one for himremained on the table untasted. This was what their AGAPE had come to. At tea, two or three

The closing of the door behind him, gently as it had been pulled to, roused Tess from her stupor. He was

gone; she could not stay. Hastily flinging her cloak around her she opened the door and followed, putting out

the candles as if she were never coming back. The rain was over and the night was now clear.

She was soon close at his heels, for Clare walked slowly and without purpose. His form beside her light gray

figure looked black, sinister, and forbidding, and she felt as sarcasm the touch of the jewels of which she had

been momentarily so proud. Clare turned at hearing her footsteps, but his recognition of her presence seemed

to make no difference to him, and he went on over the five yawning arches of the great bridge in front of the

The cow and horse tracks in the road were full of water, and rain having been enough to charge them, but not

enough to wash them away. Across these minute pools the reflected stars flitted in a quick transit as she

passed; she would not have known they were shining overhead if she had not seen them therethe vastest

The place to which they had travelled today was in the same valley as Talbothays, but some miles lower

down the river; and the surroundings being open she kept easily in sight of him. Away from the house the

road wound through the meads, and along these she followed Clare without any attempt to come up with him

At last, however, her listless walk brought her up alongside him, and still he said nothing. The cruelty of

fooled honesty is often great after enlightenment, and it was mighty in Clare now. The outdoor air had

apparently taken away from him all tendency to act on impulse; she knew that he saw her without

irradiationin all her bareness; that Time was chanting his satiric psalm at her then

Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate; Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of

thy fate For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain; And the veil of thine head shall be grief, and

He was still intently thinking, and her companionship had now insufficient power to break or divert the strain

of thought. What a weak thing her presence must have become to him! She could not help addressing Clare.

"What have I donewhat HAVE I done! I have not told of anything that interferes with or belies my love for

you. You don't think I planned it, do you? It is in your own mind what you are angry at, Angel; it is not in

"H'mwell. Not deceitful, my wife; but not the same. No, not the same. But do not make me reproach you. I

But she went on pleading in her distraction; and perhaps said things that would have been better left to

"O Angelmy mother says that it sometimes happens so!she knows several cases where they were worse

than I, and the husband has not minded it muchhas got over it at least. And yet the woman had not loved

"Don't, Tess; don't argue. Different societies, different manners. You almost make me say you are an

unapprehending peasant woman, who have never been initiated into the proportions of social things. You

"So much the worse for you. I think that parson who unearthed your pedigree would have done better if he

had held his tongue. I cannot help associating your decline as a family with this other factof your want of

firmness. Decrepit families imply decrepit wills, decrepit conduct. Heaven, why did you give me a handle for

despising you more by informing me of your descent! Here was I thinking you a newsprung child of nature;

"Lots of families are as bad as mine in that! Retty's family were once large landowners, and so were

Dairyman Billett's. And the Debbyhouses, who now are carters, were once the De Bayeux family. You find

She took these reproaches in their bulk simply, not in their particulars; he did not love her as he had loved her

They wandered on again in silence. It was said afterwards that a cottager of Wellbridge, who went out late

that night for a doctor, met two lovers in the pastures, walking very slowly, without converse, one behind the

other, as in a funeral procession, and the glimpse that he obtained of their faces seemed to denote that they

were anxious and sad. Returning later, he passed them again in the same field, progressing just as slowly, and

as regardless of the hour and of the cheerless night as before. It was only on account of his preoccupation

with his own affairs, and the illness in his house, that he did not bear in mind the curious incident, which,

During the interval of the cottager's going and coming, she had said to her husband

"I don't see how I can help being the cause of much misery to you all your life. The river is down there. I can

"I will leave something to show that I did it myselfon account of my shame. They will not blame you

"Don't speak so absurdlyI wish not to hear it. It is nonsense to have such thoughts in this kind of case,

which is rather one for satirical laughter than for tragedy. You don't in the least understand the quality of the

mishap. It would be viewed in the light of a joke by ninetenths of the world if it were known. Please oblige

They had rambled round by a road which led to the wellknown ruins of the Cistercian abbey behind the

mill, the latter having, in centuries past, been attached to the monastic establishment. The mill still worked

on, food being a perennial necessity; the abbey had perished, creeds being transient. One continually sees the

ministration of the temporary outlasting the ministration of the eternal. Their walk having been circuitous

they were still not far from the house, and in obeying his direction she only had to reach the large stone

bridge across the main river, and follow the road for a few yards. When she got back everything remained as

she had left it, the fire being still burning. She did not stay downstairs for more than a minute, but proceeded

to her chamber, whither the luggage had been taken. Here she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking

blankly around, and presently began to undress. In removing the light towards the bedstead its rays fell upon

the tester of white dimity; something was hanging beneath it, and she lifted the candle to see what it was. A

bough of mistletoe. Angel had put it there; she knew that in an instant. This was the explanation of that

mysterious parcel which it had been so difficult to pack and bring; whose contents he would not explain to

her, saying that time would soon show her the purpose thereof. In his zest and his gaiety he had hung it there.

Having nothing more to fear, having scarce anything to hope, for that he would relent there seemed no

promise whatever, she lay down dully. When sorrow ceases to be speculative sleep sees her opportunity.

Among so many happier moods which forbid repose this was a mood which welcomed it, and in a few

minutes the lonely Tess forgot existence, surrounded by the aromatic stillness of the chamber that had once,

Later on that night Clare also retraced his steps to the house. Entering softly to the sittingroom he obtained a

light, and with the manner of one who had considered his course he spread his rugs upon the old horsehair

sofa which stood there, and roughly shaped it to a sleepingcouch. Before lying down he crept shoeless

upstairs, and listened at the door of her apartment. Her measured breathing told that she was sleeping

"Thank God!" murmured Clare; and yet he was conscious of a pang of bitterness at the

thoughtapproximately true, though not wholly sothat having shifted the burden of her life to his

He turned away to descend; then, irresolute, faced round to her door again. In the act he caught sight of one

of the d'Urberville dames, whose portrait was immediately over the entrance to Tess's bedchamber. In the

candlelight the painting was more than unpleasant. Sinister design lurked in the woman's features, a

concentrated purpose of revenge on the other sexso it seemed to him then. The Caroline bodice of the

portrait was lowprecisely as Tess's had been when he tucked it in to show the necklace; and again he

His air remained calm and cold, his small compressed mouth indexing his powers of selfcontrol; his face

wearing still that terrible sterile expression which had spread thereon since her disclosure. It was the face of a

man who was no longer passion's slave, yet who found no advantage in his enfranchisement. He was simply

regarding the harrowing contingencies of human experience, the unexpectedness of things. Nothing so pure,

so sweet, so virginal as Tess had seemed possible all the long while that he had adored her, up to an hour ago;

He argued erroneously when he said to himself that her heart was not indexed in the honest freshness of her

face; but Tess had no advocate to set him right. Could it be possible, he continued, that eyes which as they

gazed never expressed any divergence from what the tongue was telling, were yet ever seeing another world

He reclined on his couch in the sittingroom, and extinguished the light. The night came in, and took up its

place there, unconcerned and indifferent; the night which had already swallowed up his happiness, and was

now digesting it listlessly; and was ready to swallow up the happiness of a thousand other people with as

Clare arose in the light of a dawn that was ashy and furtive, as though associated with crime. The fireplace

confronted him with its extinct embers; the spread suppertable, whereon stood the two full glasses of

untasted wine, now flat and filmy; her vacated seat and his own; the other articles of furniture, with their

eternal look of not being able to help it, their intolerable inquiry what was to be done? From above there was

no sound; but in a few minutes there came a knock at the door. He remembered that it would be the

neighbouring cottager's wife, who was to minister to their wants while they remained here.

The presence of a third person in the house would be extremely awkward just now, and, being already

dressed, he opened the window and informed her that they could manage to shift for themselves that morning.

She had a milkcan in her hand, which he told her to leave at the door. When the dame had gone away he

searched in the back quarters of the house for fuel, and speedily lit a fire. There was plenty of eggs, butter,

bread, and so on in the larder, and Clare soon had breakfast laid, his experiences at the dairy having rendered

him facile in domestic preparations. The smoke of the kindled wood rose from the chimney without like a

lotusheaded column; local people who were passing by saw it, and thought of the newlymarried couple,

Angel cast a final glance round, and then going to the foot of the stairs, called in a conventional voice

He opened the front door, and took a few steps in the morning air. When, after a short space, he came back

she was already in the sittingroom mechanically readjusting the breakfast things. As she was fully attired,

and the interval since his calling her had been but two or three minutes, she must have been dressed or nearly

so before he went to summon her. Her hair was twisted up in a large round mass at the back of her head, and

she had put on one of the new frocks a pale blue woollen garment with neckfrillings of white. Her hands

and face appeared to be cold, and she had possibly been sitting dressed in the bedroom a long time without

any fire. The marked civility of Clare's tone in calling her seemed to have inspired her, for the moment, with

The pair were, in truth, but the ashes of their former fires. To the hot sorrow of the previous night had

succeeded heaviness; it seemed as if nothing could kindle either of them to fervour of sensation any more.

He spoke gently to her, and she replied with a like undemonstrativeness. At last she came up to him, looking

in his sharplydefined face as one who had no consciousness that her own formed a visible object also.

"Angel!" she said, and paused, touching him with her fingers lightly as a breeze, as though she could hardly

believe to be there in the flesh the man who was once her lover. Her eyes were bright, her pale cheek still

showed its wonted roundness, though halfdried tears had left glistening traces thereon; and the usually ripe

red mouth was almost as pale as her cheek. Throbbingly alive as she was still, under the stress of her mental

grief the life beat so brokenly, that a little further pull upon it would cause real illness, dull her characteristic

She looked absolutely pure. Nature, in her fantastic trickery, had set such a seal of maidenhood upon Tess's

He looked at her imploringly, as if he would willingly have taken a lie from her lips, knowing it to be one,

and have made of it, by some sort of sophistry, a valid denial. However, she only repeated

"My positionis this," he said abruptly. "I thought any man would have thoughtthat by giving up all

ambition to win a wife with social standing, with fortune, with knowledge of the world, I should secure rustic

innocence as surely as I should secure pink cheeks; butHowever, I am no man to reproach you, and I

Tess felt his position so entirely that the remainder had not been needed. Therein lay just the distress of it; she

"AngelI should not have let it go on to marriage with you if I had not known that, after all, there was a last

"Can't younow I have told you? I thought my confession would give you grounds for that."

"O Tessyou are too, toochildishunformedcrude, I suppose! I don't know what you are. You don't

"I thoughtI thought," she whispered. "O, now I see how wicked I seem to you! Believe mebelieve me,

on my soul, I never thought but that you could! I hoped you would not; yet I believed, without a doubt, that

"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!"

"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

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

"But, Angel," she pleaded, enlarging her eyes in calm unconcern upon him, "it was thought of entirely on

your accountto set you free without the scandal of the divorce that I thought you would have to get. I

should never have dreamt of doing it on mine. However, to do it with my own hand is too good for me, after

all. It is you, my ruined husband, who ought to strike the blow. I think I should love you more, if that were

possible, if you could bring yourself to do it, since there's no other way of escape for 'ee. I feel I am so utterly

He knew this to be true enough. Since the desperation of the night her activities had dropped to zero, and

Tess tried to busy herself again over the breakfasttable with more or less success, and they sat down both on

the same side, so that their glances did not meet. There was at first something awkward in hearing each other

eat and drink, but this could not be escaped; moreover, the amount of eating done was small on both sides.

Breakfast over he rose, and telling her the hour at which he might be expected to dinner, went off to the

miller's in a mechanical pursuance of the plan of studying that business, which had been his only practical

When he was gone Tess stood at the window, and presently saw his form crossing the great stone bridge

which conducted to the mill premises. He sank behind it, crossed the railway beyond, and disappeared. Then,

without a sigh, she turned her attention to the room, and began clearing the table and setting it in order.

The charwoman soon came. Her presence was at first a strain upon Tess, but afterwards an alleviation. At

halfpast twelve she left her assistant alone in the kitchen, and, returning to the sittingroom, waited for the

About one he showed himself. Her face flushed, although he was a quarter of a mile off. She ran to the

kitchen to get the dinner served by the time he should enter. He went first to the room where they had washed

their hands together the day before, and as he entered the sittingroom the dishcovers rose from the dishes

The meal was passed in commonplace talk of what he had been doing during the morning at the Abbey Mill,

of the methods of bolting and the oldfashioned machinery, which he feared would not enlighten him greatly

on modern improved methods, some of it seeming to have been in use ever since the days it ground for the

monks in the adjoining conventual buildingsnow a heap of ruins. He left the house again in the course of

an hour, coming home at dusk, and occupying himself through the evening with his papers. She feared she

was in the way, and, when the old woman was gone, retired to the kitchen, where she made herself busy as

Clare's shape appeared at the door. "You must not work like this," he said. "You are not my servant; you are

She raised her eyes, and brightened somewhat. "I may think myself thatindeed?" she murmured, in piteous

"I don't know," she said hastily, with tears in her accents. "I thought Ibecause I am not respectable, I mean.

I told you I thought I was not respectable enough long agoand on that account I didn't want to marry you,

She broke into sobs, and turned her back to him. It would almost have won round any man but Angel Clare.

Within the remote depths of his constitution, so gentle and affectionate as he was in general, there lay hidden

a hard logical deposit, like a vein of metal in a soft loam, which turned the edge of everything that attempted

to traverse it. It had blocked his acceptance of the Church; it blocked his acceptance of Tess. Moreover, his

affection itself was less fire than radiance, and, with regard to the other sex, when he ceased to believe he

ceased to follow: contrasting in this with many impressionable natures, who remain sensuously infatuated

"I wish half the women in England were as respectable as you," he said, in an ebullition of bitterness against

womankind in general. "It isn't a question of respectability, but one of principle!"

He spoke such things as these and more of a kindred sort to her, being still swayed by the antipathetic wave

which warps direct souls with such persistence when once their vision finds itself mocked by appearances.

There was, it is true, underneath, a back current of sympathy through which a woman of the world might

have conquered him. But Tess did not think of this; she took everything as her deserts, and hardly opened her

mouth. The firmness of her devotion to him was indeed almost pitiful; quicktempered as she naturally was,

nothing that he could say made her unseemly; she sought not her own; was not provoked; thought no evil of

his treatment of her. She might just now have been Apostolic Charity herself returned to a selfseeking

This evening, night, and morning were passed precisely as the preceding ones had been passed. On one, and

only one, occasion did shethe formerly free and independent Tessventure to make any advances. It was

on the third occasion of his starting after a meal to go out to the flourmill. As he was leaving the table he

said "Goodbye," and she replied in the same words, at the same time inclining her mouth in the way of his.

Tess shrank into herself as if she had been struck. Often enough had he tried to reach those lips against her

consentoften had he said gaily that her mouth and breath tasted of the butter and eggs and milk and honey

on which she mainly lived, that he drew sustenance from them, and other follies of that sort. But he did not

"You know, I have to think of a course. It was imperative that we should stay together a little while, to avoid

the scandal to you that would have resulted from our immediate parting. But you must see it is only for form's

He went out, and on his way to the mill stood still, and wished for a moment that he had responded yet more

Thus they lived through this despairing day or two; in the same house, truly; but more widely apart than

before they were lovers. It was evident to her that he was, as he had said, living with paralyzed activities, in

his endeavour to think of a plan of procedure. She was awestrikin to discover such determination under such

apparent flexibility. His consistency was, indeed, too cruel. She no longer expected forgiveness now. More

than once she thought of going away from him during his absence at the mill; but she feared that this, instead

of benefiting him, might be the means of hampering and humiliating him yet more if it should become

Meanwhile Clare was meditating, verily. His thought had been unsuspended; he was becoming ill with

thinking; eaten out with thinking, withered by thinking; scourged out of all his former pulsating flexuous

domesticity. He walked about saying to himself, "What's to be donewhat's to be done?" and by chance she

overheard him. It caused her to break the reserve about their future which had hitherto prevailed.

"I supposeyou are not going to live with melong, are you, Angel?" she asked, the sunk corners of her

mouth betraying how purely mechanical were the means by which she retained that expression of chastened

"I cannot" he said, "without despising myself, and what is worse, perhaps, despising you. I mean, of course,

cannot live with you in the ordinary sense. At present, whatever I feel, I do not despise you. And, let me

speak plainly, or you may not see all my difficulties. How can we live together while that man lives?he

being your husband in nature, and not I. If he were dead it might be different.... Besides, that's not all the

difficulty; it lies in another considerationone bearing upon the future of other people than ourselves. Think

of years to come, and children being born to us, and this past matter getting knownfor it must get known.

There is not an uttermost part of the earth but somebody comes from it or goes to it from elsewhere. Well,

think of wretches of our flesh and blood growing up under a taunt which they will gradually get to feel the

full force of with their expanding years. What an awakening for them! What a prospect! Can you honestly say

'Remain' after contemplating this contingency? Don't you think we had better endure the ills we have than fly

Tess's feminine hopeshall we confess it?had been so obstinately recuperative as to revive in her

surreptitious visions of a domiciliary intimacy continued long enough to break down his coldness even

against his judgement. Though unsophisticated in the usual sense, she was not incomplete; and it would have

denoted deficiency of womanhood if she had not instinctively known what an argument lies in propinquity.

Nothing else would serve her, she knew, if this failed. It was wrong to hope in what was of the nature of

strategy, she said to herself: yet that sort of hope she could not extinguish. His last representation had now

been made, and it was, as she said, a new view. She had truly never thought so far as that, and his lucid

picture of possible offspring who would scorn her was one that brought deadly convictions to an honest heart

which was humanitarian to its centre. Sheer experience had already taught her that, in some circumstances,

there was one thing better than to lead a good life, and that was to be saved from leading any life whatever.

Like all who have been previsioned by suffering, she could, in the words of M. SullyPrudhomme, hear a

penal sentence in the fiat, "You shall be born," particularly if addressed to potential issue of hers.

Yet such is the vulpine slyness of Dame Nature, that, till now, Tess had been hoodwinked by her love for

Clare into forgetting it might result in vitalizations that would inflict upon others what she had bewailed as

She therefore could not withstand his argument. But with the selfcombating proclivity of the supersensitive,

an answer thereto arose in Clare's own mind, and he almost feared it. It was based on her exceptional physical

nature; and she might have used it promisingly. She might have added besides: "On an Australian upland or

Texan plain, who is to know or care about my misfortunes, or to reproach me or you?" Yet, like the majority

of women, she accepted the momentary presentment as if it were the inevitable. And she may have been

right. The intuitive heart of woman knoweth not only its own bitterness, but its husband's, and even if these

assumed reproaches were not likely to be addressed to him or to his by strangers, they might have reached his

It was the third day of the estrangement. Some might risk the odd paradox that with more animalism he

would have been the nobler man. We do not say it. Yet Clare's love was doubtless ethereal to a fault,

imaginative to impracticability. With these natures, corporal presence is something less appealing than

corporal absence; the latter creating an ideal presence that conveniently drops the defects of the real. She

found that her personality did not plead her cause so forcibly as she had anticipated. The figurative phrase

"I have thought over what you say," she remarked to him, moving her forefinger over the tablecloth, her other

hand, which bore the ring that mocked them both, supporting her forehead. "It is quite true all of it; it must

"Quite sure. We ought to part, and we may as well get it past and done. You once said that I was apt to win

men against their better judgement; and if I am constantly before your eyes I may cause you to change your

plans in opposition to your reason and wish; and afterwards your repentance and my sorrow will be terrible."

Though she did not look up at him, she started. There was a difference between the proposition and the

"I feared it would come to this," she murmured, her countenance meekly fixed. "I don't complain, Angel,

II think it best. What you said has quite convinced me. Yes, though nobody else should reproach me if we

should stay together, yet somewhen, years hence, you might get angry with me for any ordinary matter, and

knowing what you do of my bygones you yourself might be tempted to say words, and they might be

overheard, perhaps by my own children. O, what only hurts me now would torture and kill me then! I will

"And I shall not stay here. Though I didn't like to initiate it, I have seen that it was advisable we should

partat least for a while, till I can better see the shape that things have taken, and can write to you."

Tess stole a glance at her husband. He was pale, even tremulous; but, as before, she was appalled by the

determination revealed in the depths of this gentle being she had marriedthe will to subdue the grosser to

the subtler emotion, the substance to the conception, the flesh to the spirit. Propensities, tendencies, habits,

"I think of people more kindly when I am away from them"; adding cynically, "God knows; perhaps we will

That day he began to pack up, and she went upstairs and began to pack also. Both knew that it was in their

two minds that they might part the next morning for ever, despite the gloss of assuaging conjectures thrown

over their processing because they were of the sort to whom any parting which has an air of finality is a

torture. He knew, and she knew, that, though the fascination which each had exercised over the otheron

her part independently of accomplishmentswould probably in the first days of their separation be even

more potent than ever, time must attenuate that effect; the practical arguments against accepting her as a

housemate might pronounce themselves more strongly in the boreal light of a remoter view. Moreover, when

two people are once partedhave abandoned a common domicile and a common environmentnew

growths insensibly bud upward to fill each vacated place; unforeseen accidents hinder intentions, and old

Midnight came and passed silently, for there was nothing to announce it in the Valley of the Froom.

Not long after one o'clock there was a slight creak in the darkened farmhouse once the mansion of the

d'Urbervilles. Tess, who used the upper chamber, heard it and awoke. It had come from the corner step of the

staircase, which, as usual, was loosely nailed. She saw the door of her bedroom open, and the figure of her

husband crossed the stream of moonlight with a curiously careful tread. He was in his shirt and trousers only,

and her first flush of joy died when she perceived that his eyes were fixed in an unnatural stare on vacancy.

When he reached the middle of the room he stood still and murmured in tones of indescribable sadness

Under the influence of any stronglydisturbing force Clare would occasionally walk in his sleep, and even

perform strange feats, such as he had done on the night of their return from market just before their marriage,

when he reenacted in his bedroom his combat with the man who had insulted her. Tess saw that continued

Her loyal confidence in him lay so deep down in her heart, that, awake or asleep, he inspired her with no sort

of personal fear. If he had entered with a pistol in his hand he would scarcely have disturbed her trust in his

After fixedly regarding her for some moments with the same gaze of unmeasurable woe he bent lower,

enclosed her in his arms, and rolled her in the sheet as in a shroud. Then lifting her from the bed with as much

respect as one would show to a dead body, he carried her across the room, murmuring

The words of endearment, withheld so severely in his waking hours, were inexpressibly sweet to her forlorn

and hungry heart. If it had been to save her weary life she would not, by moving or struggling, have put an

end to the position she found herself in. Thus she lay in absolute stillness, scarcely venturing to breathe, and,

wondering what he was going to do with her, suffered herself to be borne out upon the landing.

He paused in his labours for a moment to lean with her against the banister. Was he going to throw her down?

Selfsolicitude was near extinction in her, and in the knowledge that he had planned to depart on the morrow,

possibly for always, she lay in his arms in this precarious position with a sense rather of luxury than of terror.

If they could only fall together, and both be dashed to pieces, how fit, how desirable.

However, he did not let her fall, but took advantage of the support of the handrail to imprint a kiss upon her

lipslips in the daytime scorned. Then he clasped her with a renewed firmness of hold, and descended the

staircase. The creak of the loose stair did not awaken him, and they reached the groundfloor safely. Freeing

one of his hands from his grasp of her for a moment, he slid back the doorbar and passed out, slightly

striking his stockinged toe against the edge of the door. But this he seemed not to mind, and, having room for

extension in the open air, he lifted her against his shoulder, so that he could carry her with ease, the absence

of clothes taking much from his burden. Thus he bore her off the premises in the direction of the river a few

His ultimate intention, if he had any, she had not yet divined; and she found herself conjecturing on the

matter as a third person might have done. So easefully had she delivered her whole being up to him that it

pleased her to think he was regarding her as his absolute possession, to dispose of as he should choose. It was

consoling, under the hovering terror of tomorrow's separation, to feel that he really recognized her now as his

wife Tess, and did not cast her off, even if in that recognition he went so far as to arrogate to himself the right

Ah! now she knew what he was dreaming ofthat Sunday morning when he had borne her along through the

water with the other dairymaids, who had loved him nearly as much as she, if that were possible, which Tess

could hardly admit. Clare did not cross the bridge with her, but proceeding several paces on the same side

Its waters, in creeping down these miles of meadowland, frequently divided, serpentining in purposeless

curves, looping themselves around little islands that had no name, returning and reembodying themselves as

a broad main stream further on. Opposite the spot to which he had brought her was such a general confluence,

and the river was proportionately voluminous and deep. Across it was a narrow footbridge; but now the

autumn flood had washed the handrail away, leaving the bare plank only, which, lying a few inches above the

speeding current, formed a giddy pathway for even steady heads; and Tess had noticed from the window of

the house in the daytime young men walking across upon it as a feat in balancing. Her husband had possibly

observed the same performance; anyhow, he now mounted the plank, and, sliding one foot forward, advanced

Was he going to drown her? Probably he was. The spot was lonely, the river deep and wide enough to make

such a purpose easy of accomplishment. He might drown her if he would; it would be better than parting

The swift stream raced and gyrated under them, tossing, distorting, and splitting the moon's reflected face.

Spots of froth travelled past, and intercepted weeds waved behind the piles. If they could both fall together

into the current now, their arms would be so tightly clasped together that they could not be saved; they would

go out of the world almost painlessly, and there would be no more reproach to her, or to him for marrying

her. His last halfhour with her would have been a loving one, while if they lived till he awoke his daytime

aversion would return, and this hour would remain to be contemplated only as a transient dream.

The impulse stirred in her, yet she dared not indulge it, to make a movement that would have precipitated

them both into the gulf. How she valued her own life had been proved; but hisshe had no right to tamper

Here they were within a plantation which formed the Abbey grounds, and taking a new hold of her he went

onward a few steps till they reached the ruined choir of the Abbeychurch. Against the north wall was the

empty stone coffin of an abbot, in which every tourist with a turn for grim humour was accustomed to stretch

himself. In this Clare carefully laid Tess. Having kissed her lips a second time he breathed deeply, as if a

greatly desired end were attained. Clare then lay down on the ground alongside, when he immediately fell

into the deep dead slumber of exhaustion, and remained motionless as a log. The spurt of mental excitement

Tess sat up in the coffin. The night, though dry and mild for the season, was more than sufficiently cold to

make it dangerous for him to remain here long, in his halfclothed state. If he were left to himself he would

in all probability stay there till the morning, and be chilled to certain death. She had heard of such deaths after

sleepwalking. But how could she dare to awaken him, and let him know what he had been doing, when it

would mortify him to discover his folly in respect of her? Tess, however, stepping out of her stone confine,

shook him slightly, but was unable to arouse him without being violent. It was indispensable to do something,

for she was beginning to shiver, the sheet being but a poor protection. Her excitement had in a measure kept

her warm during the few minutes' adventure; but that beatific interval was over.

It suddenly occurred to her to try persuasion; and accordingly she whispered in his ear, with as much firmness

"Let us walk on, darling," at the same time taking him suggestively by the arm. To her relief, he unresistingly

acquiesced; her words had apparently thrown him back into his dream, which thenceforward seemed to enter

on a new phase, wherein he fancied she had risen as a spirit, and was leading him to Heaven. Thus she

conducted him by the arm to the stone bridge in front of their residence, crossing which they stood at the

manorhouse door. Tess's feet were quite bare, and the stones hurt her, and chilled her to the bone; but Clare

There was no further difficulty. She induced him to lie down on his own sofa bed, and covered him up

warmly, lighting a temporary fire of wood, to dry any dampness out of him. The noise of these attentions she

thought might awaken him, and secretly wished that they might. But the exhaustion of his mind and body was

As soon as they met the next morning Tess divined that Angel knew little or nothing of how far she had been

concerned in the night's excursion, though, as regarded himself, he may have been aware that he had not lain

still. In truth, he had awakened that morning from a sleep deep as annihilation; and during those first few

moments in which the brain, like a Samson shaking himself, is trying its strength, he had some dim notion of

an unusual nocturnal proceeding. But the realities of his situation soon displaced conjecture on the other

He waited in expectancy to discern some mental pointing; he knew that if any intention of his, concluded

overnight, did not vanish in the light of morning, it stood on a basis approximating to one of pure reason,

even if initiated by impulse of feeling; that it was so far, therefore, to be trusted. He thus beheld in the pale

morning light the resolve to separate from her; not as a hot and indignant instinct, but denuded of the

passionateness which had made it scorch and burn; standing in its bones; nothing but a skeleton, but none the

At breakfast, and while they were packing the few remaining articles, he showed his weariness from the

night's effort so unmistakeably that Tess was on the point of revealing all that had happened; but the

reflection that it would anger him, grieve him, stultify him, to know that he had instinctively manifested a

fondness for her of which his commonsense did not approve; that his inclination had compromised his

dignity when reason slept, again deterred her. It was too much like laughing at a man when sober for his

It just crossed her mind, too, that he might have a faint recollection of his tender vagary, and was disinclined

to allude to it from a conviction that she would take amatory advantage of the opportunity it gave her of

He had ordered by letter a vehicle from the nearest town, and soon after breakfast it arrived. She saw in it the

beginning of the endthe temporary end, at least, for the revelation of his tenderness by the incident of the

night raised dreams of a possible future with him. The luggage was put on the top, and the man drove them

off, the miller and the old waitingwoman expressing some surprise at their precipitate departure, which

Clare attributed to his discovery that the millwork was not of the modern kind which he wished to

investigate, a statement that was true so far as it went. Beyond this there was nothing in the manner of their

leaving to suggest a FIASCO, or that they were not going together to visit friends.

Their route lay near the dairy from which they had started with such solemn joy in each other a few days

back, and as Clare wished to wind up his business with Mr Crick, Tess could hardly avoid paying Mrs Crick

a call at the same time, unless she would excite suspicion of their unhappy state.

To make the call as unobtrusive as possible they left the carriage by the wicket leading down from the high

road to the dairyhouse, and descended the track on foot, side by side. The withybed had been cut, and they

could see over the stumps the spot to which Clare had followed her when he pressed her to be his wife; to the

left the enclosure in which she had been fascinated by his harp; and far away behind the cowstalls the mead

which had been the scene of their first embrace. The gold of the summer picture was now gray, the colours

Over the bartongate the dairyman saw them, and came forward, throwing into his face the kind of jocularity

deemed appropriate in Talbothays and its vicinity on the reappearance of the newlymarried. Then Mrs

Crick emerged from the house, and several others of their old acquaintance, though Marian and Retty did not

Tess valiantly bore their sly attacks and friendly humours, which affected her far otherwise than they

supposed. In the tacit agreement of husband and wife to keep their estrangement a secret they behaved as

would have been ordinary. And then, although she would rather there had been no word spoken on the

subject, Tess had to hear in detail the story of Marian and Retty. The later had gone home to her father's and

Marian had left to look for employment elsewhere. They feared she would come to no good.

To dissipate the sadness of this recital Tess went and bade all her favourite cows goodbye, touching each of

them with her hand, and as she and Clare stood side by side at leaving, as if united body and soul, there

would have been something peculiarly sorry in their aspect to one who should have seen it truly; two limbs of

one life, as they outwardly were, his arm touching hers, her skirts touching him, facing one way, as against all

the dairy facing the other, speaking in their adieux as "we", and yet sundered like the poles. Perhaps

something unusually stiff and embarrassed in their attitude, some awkwardness in acting up to their

profession of unity, different from the natural shyness of young couples, may have been apparent, for when

"How onnatural the brightness of her eyes did seem, and how they stood like waxen images and talked as if

they were in a dream! Didn't it strike 'ee that 'twas so? Tess had always sommat strange in her, and she's not

They reentered the vehicle, and were driven along the roads towards Weatherbury and Stagfoot Lane, till

they reached the Lane inn, where Clare dismissed the fly and man. They rested here a while, and entering the

Vale were next driven onward towards her home by a stranger who did not know their relations. At a midway

point, when Nuttlebury had been passed, and where there were crossroads, Clare stopped the conveyance

and said to Tess that if she meant to return to her mother's house it was here that he would leave her. As they

could not talk with freedom in the driver's presence he asked her to accompany him for a few steps on foot

along one of the branch roads; she assented, and directing the man to wait a few minutes they strolled away.

"Now, let us understand each other," he said gently. "There is no anger between us, though there is that which

I cannot endure at present. I will try to bring myself to endure it. I will let you know where I go to as soon as

I know myself. And if I can bring myself to bear itif it is desirable, possibleI will come to you. But until

The severity of the decree seemed deadly to Tess; she saw his view of her clearly enough; he could regard her

in no other light than that of one who had practised gross deceit upon him. Yet could a woman who had done

even what she had done deserve all this? But she could contest the point with him no further. She simply

"O yesif you are ill, or want anything at all. I hope that will not be the case; so that it may happen that I

"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be;

That was all she said on the matter. If Tess had been artful, had she made a scene, fainted, wept hysterically,

in that lonely lane, notwithstanding the fury of fastidiousness with which he was possessed, he would

probably not have withstood her. But her mood of longsuffering made his way easy for him, and she herself

was his best advocate. Pride, too, entered into her submissionwhich perhaps was a symptom of that

reckless acquiescence in chance too apparent in the whole d'Urberville familyand the many effective

The remainder of their discourse was on practical matters only. He now handed her a packet containing a

fairly good sum of money, which he had obtained from his bankers for the purpose. The brilliants, the interest

in which seemed to be Tess's for her life only (if he understood the wording of the will), he advised her to let

These things arranged he walked with Tess back to the carriage, and handed her in. The coachman was paid

and told where to drive her. Taking next his own bag and umbrellathe sole articles he had brought with

The fly moved creepingly up a hill, and Clare watched it go with an unpremeditated hope that Tess would

look out of the window for one moment. But that she never thought of doing, would not have ventured to do,

lying in a halfdead faint inside. Thus he beheld her recede, and in the anguish of his heart quoted a line from

When Tess had passed over the crest of the hill he turned to go his own way, and hardly knew that he loved

As she drove on through Blackmoor Vale, and the landscape of her youth began to open around her, Tess

aroused herself from her stupor. Her first thought was how would she be able to face her parents?

She reached a turnpikegate which stood upon the highway to the village. It was thrown open by a stranger,

not by the old man who had kept it for many years, and to whom she had been known; he had probably left

on New Year's Day, the date when such changes were made. Having received no intelligence lately from her

"Ohnothing, miss," he answered. "Marlott is Marlott still. Folks have died and that. John Durbeyfield, too,

hev had a daughter married this week to a gentlemanfarmer; not from John's own house, you know; they

was married elsewhere; the gentleman being of that high standing that John's own folk was not considered

wellbedoing enough to have any part in it, the bridegroom seeming not to know how't have been

discovered that John is a old and ancient nobleman himself by blood, with family skillentons in their own

vaults to this day, but done out of his property in the time o' the Romans. However, Sir John, as we call 'n

now, kept up the weddingday as well as he could, and stood treat to everybody in the parish; and John's wife

Hearing this, Tess felt so sick at heart that she could not decide to go home publicly in the fly with her

luggage and belongings. She asked the turnpikekeeper if she might deposit her things at his house for a

while, and, on his offering no objection, she dismissed her carriage, and went on to the village alone by a

At sight of her father's chimney she asked herself how she could possibly enter the house? Inside that cottage

her relations were calmly supposing her far away on a weddingtour with a comparatively rich man, who was

to conduct her to bouncing prosperity; while here she was, friendless, creeping up to the old door quite by

She did not reach the house unobserved. Just by the gardenhedge she was met by a girl who knew herone

of the two or three with whom she had been intimate at school. After making a few inquiries as to how Tess

Tess hastily explained that he had been called away on business, and, leaving her interlocutor, clambered

As she went up the gardenpath she heard her mother singing by the back door, coming in sight of which she

perceived Mrs Durbeyfield on the doorstep in the act of wringing a sheet. Having performed this without

The washingtub stood in the same old place on the same old quarterhogshead, and her mother, having

"WhyTess!my chil'I thought you was married!married really and truly this timewe sent the

"What's the meaning o' that? 'Nation seize such husbands as you seem to get, say I!"

"Mother!" Tess went across to Joan Durbeyfield, laid her face upon the matron's bosom, and burst into sobs.

"I don't know how to tell 'ee, mother! You said to me, and wrote to me, that I was not to tell him. But I did

"O you little foolyou little fool!" burst out Mrs Durbeyfield, splashing Tess and herself in her agitation.

"My good God! that ever I should ha' lived to say it, but I say it again, you little fool!"

Tess was convulsed with weeping, the tension of so many days having relaxed at last.

"I know itI knowI know!" she gasped through her sobs. "But, O my mother, I could not help it! He was

so goodand I felt the wickedness of trying to blind him as to what had happened! Ififit were to be

"Yes, yes; that's where my misery do lie! But I thought he could get rid o' me by law if he were determined

not to overlook it. And O, if you knewif you could only half know how I loved himhow anxious I was

to have himand how wrung I was between caring so much for him and my wish to be fair to him!"

Tess was so shaken that she could get no further, and sank a helpless thing into a chair.

"Well, well; what's done can't be undone! I'm sure I don't know why children o' my bringing forth should all

be bigger simpletons than other people'snot to know better than to blab such a thing as that, when he

couldn't ha' found it out till too late!" Here Mrs Durbeyfield began shedding tears on her own account as a

mother to be pitied. "What your father will say I don't know," she continued; "for he's been talking about the

wedding up at Rolliver's and The Pure Drop every day since, and about his family getting back to their

rightful position through youpoor silly man!and now you've made this mess of it! The LordaLord!"

As if to bring matters to a focus, Tess's father was heard approaching at that moment. He did not, however,

enter immediately, and Mrs Durbeyfield said that she would break the bad news to him herself, Tess keeping

out of sight for the present. After her first burst of disappointment Joan began to take the mishap as she had

taken Tess's original trouble, as she would have taken a wet holiday or failure in the potatocrop; as a thing

which had come upon them irrespective of desert or folly; a chance external impingement to be borne with;

Tess retreated upstairs and beheld casually that the beds had been shifted, and new arrangements made. Her

old bed had been adapted for two younger children. There was no place here for her now.

The room below being unceiled she could hear most of what went on there. Presently her father entered,

apparently carrying in a live hen. He was a foothaggler now, having been obliged to sell his second horse,

and he travelled with his basket on his arm. The hen had been carried about this morning as it was often

carried, to show people that he was in his work, though it had lain, with its legs tied, under the table at

"We've just had up a story about" Durbeyfield began, and thereupon related in detail to his wife a

discussion which had arisen at the inn about the clergy, originated by the fact of his daughter having married

into a clerical family. "They was formerly styled 'sir', like my own ancestry," he said, "though nowadays their

true style, strictly speaking, is 'clerk' only." As Tess had wished that no great publicity should be given to the

event, he had mentioned no particulars. He hoped she would remove that prohibition soon. He proposed that

the couple should take Tess's own name, d'Urberville, as uncorrupted. It was better than her husbands's. He

Then Mrs Durbeyfield informed him that no letter had come, but Tess unfortunately had come herself.

When at length the collapse was explained to him a sullen mortification, not usual with Durbeyfield,

overpowered the influence of the cheering glass. Yet the intrinsic quality of the event moved his touchy

"To think, now, that this was to be the end o't!" said Sir John. "And I with a family vault under that there

church of Kingsbere as big as Squire Jollard's alecellar, and my folk lying there in sixes and sevens, as

genuine county bones and marrow as any recorded in history. And now to be sure what they fellers at

Rolliver's and The Pure Drop will say to me! How they'll squint and glane, and say, 'This is yer mighty match

is it; this is yer getting back to the true level of yer forefathers in King Norman's time!' I feel this is too much,

Joan; I shall put an end to myself, title and allI can bear it no longer! ... But she can make him keep her if

Poor Tess, who had heard as far as this, could not bear to hear more. The perception that her word could be

doubted even here, in her own parental house, set her mind against the spot as nothing else could have done.

How unexpected were the attacks of destiny! And if her father doubted her a little, would not neighbours and

A few days, accordingly, were all that she allowed herself here, at the end of which time she received a short

note from Clare, informing her that he had gone to the North of England to look at a farm. In her craving for

the lustre of her true position as his wife, and to hide from her parents the vast extent of the division between

them, she made use of this letter as her reason for again departing, leaving them under the impression that she

was setting out to join him. Still further to screen her husband from any imputation on unkindness to her, she

took twentyfive of the fifty pounds Clare had given her, and handed the sum over to her mother, as if the

wife of a man like Angel Clare could well afford it, saying that it was a slight return for the trouble and

humiliation she had brought upon them in years past. With this assertion of her dignity she bade them

farewell; and after that there were lively doing in the Durbeyfield household for some time on the strength of

Tess's bounty, her mother saying, and, indeed, believing, that the rupture which had arisen between the young

husband and wife had adjusted itself under their strong feeling that they could not live apart from each other.

It was three weeks after the marriage that Clare found himself descending the hill which led to the

wellknown parsonage of his father. With his downward course the tower of the church rose into the evening

sky in a manner of inquiry as to why he had come; and no living person in the twilighted town seemed to

notice him, still less to expect him. He was arriving like a ghost, and the sound of his own footsteps was

The picture of life had changed for him. Before this time he had known it but speculatively; now he thought

he knew it as a practical man; though perhaps he did not, even yet. Nevertheless humanity stood before him

no longer in the pensive sweetness of Italian art, but in the staring and ghastly attitudes of a Wiertz Museum,

His conduct during these first weeks had been desultory beyond description. After mechanically attempting to

pursue his agricultural plans as though nothing unusual had happened, in the manner recommended by the

great and wise men of all ages, he concluded that very few of those great and wise men had ever gone so far

outside themselves as to test the feasibility of their counsel. "This is the chief thing: be not perturbed," said

the Pagan moralist. That was just Clare's own opinion. But he was perturbed. "Let not your heart be troubled,

neither let it be afraid," said the Nazarene. Clare chimed in cordially; but his heart was troubled all the same.

How he would have liked to confront those two great thinkers, and earnestly appeal to them as fellowman to

His mood transmuted itself into a dogged indifference till at length he fancied he was looking on his own

He was embittered by the conviction that all this desolation had been brought about by the accident of her

being a d'Urberville. When he found that Tess came of that exhausted ancient line, and was not of the new

tribes from below, as he had fondly dreamed, why had he not stoically abandoned her, in fidelity to his

principles? This was what he had got by apostasy, and his punishment was deserved.

Then he became weary and anxious, and his anxiety increased. He wondered if he had treated her unfairly.

He ate without knowing that he ate, and drank without tasting. As the hours dropped past, as the motive of

each act in the long series of bygone days presented itself to his view, he perceived how intimately the notion

of having Tess as a dear possession was mixed up with all his schemes and words and ways.

In going hither and thither he observed in the outskirts of a small town a redandblue placard setting forth

the great advantages of the Empire of Brazil as a field for the emigrating agriculturist. Land was offered there

on exceptionally advantageous terms. Brazil somewhat attracted him as a new idea. Tess could eventually

join him there, and perhaps in that country of contrasting scenes and notions and habits the conventions

would not be so operative which made life with her seem impracticable to him here. In brief he was strongly

inclined to try Brazil, especially as the season for going thither was just at hand.

With this view he was returning to Emminster to disclose his plan to his parents, and to make the best

explanation he could make of arriving without Tess, short of revealing what had actually separated them. As

he reached the door the new moon shone upon his face, just as the old one had done in the small hours of that

morning when he had carried his wife in his arms across the river to the graveyard of the monks; but his face

Clare had given his parents no warning of his visit, and his arrival stirred the atmosphere of the Vicarage as

the dive of the kingfisher stirs a quiet pool. His father and mother were both in the drawingroom, but neither

of his brothers was now at home. Angel entered, and closed the door quietly behind him.

"She is at her mother'stemporarily. I have come home rather in a hurry because I've decided to go to

But even the novelty and painfulness of his going to a Papistical land could no displace for long Mr and Mrs

"We had your brief note three weeks ago announcing that it had taken place," said Mrs Clare, "and your

father sent your godmother's gift to her, as you know. Of course it was best that none of us should be present,

especially as you preferred to marry her from the dairy, and not at her home, wherever that may be. It would

have embarrassed you, and given us no pleasure. Your bothers felt that very strongly. Now it is done we do

not complain, particularly if she suits you for the business you have chosen to follow instead of the ministry

of the Gospel. ... Yet I wish I could have seen her first, Angel, or have known a little more about her. We sent

her no present of our own, not knowing what would best give her pleasure, but you must suppose it only

delayed. Angel, there is no irritation in my mind or your father's against you for this marriage; but we have

thought it much better to reserve our liking for your wife till we could see her. And now you have not brought

He replied that it had been thought best by them that she should to go her parents' home for the present,

"I don't mind telling you, dear mother," he said, "that I always meant to keep her away from this house till I

should feel she could some with credit to you. But this idea of Brazil is quite a recent one. If I do go it will be

unadvisable for me to take her on this my first journey. She will remain at her mother's till I come back."

He was afraid they would not. His original plan had been, as he had said, to refrain from bringing her there

for some little whilenot to wound their prejudicesfeelingsin any way; and for other reasons he had

adhered to it. He would have to visit home in the course of a year, if he went out at once; and it would be

A hastily prepared supper was brought in, and Clare made further exposition of his plans. His mother's

disappointment at not seeing the bride still remained with her. Clare's late enthusiasm for Tess had infected

her through her maternal sympathies, till she had almost fancied that a good thing could come out of

Nazaretha charming woman out of Talbothays Dairy. She watched her son as he ate.

"Of that there can be no question!" he said, with a zest which covered its bitterness.

"I can see her quite distinctly. You said the other day that she was fine in figure; roundly built; had deep red

lips like Cupid's bow; dark eyelashes and brows, an immense rope of hair like a ship's cable; and large eyes

"I quite see her. And living in such seclusion she naturally had scarce ever seen any young man from the

"There are worse wives than these simple, rosymouthed, robust girls of the farm. Certainly I could have

wishedwell, since my son is to be an agriculturist, it is perhaps but proper that his wife should have been

His father was less inquisitive; but when the time came for the chapter from the Bible which was always read

"I think, since Angel has come, that it will be more appropriate to read the thirtyfirst of Proverbs than the

"Yes, certainly," said Mrs Clare. "The words of King Lemuel" (she could cite chapter and verse as well as her

husband). "My dear son, your father has decided to read us the chapter in Proverbs in praise of a virtuous

wife. We shall not need to be reminded to apply the words to the absent one. May Heaven shield her in all her

A lump rose in Clare's throat. The portable lectern was taken out from the corner and set in the middle of the

fireplace, the two old servants came in, and Angel's father began to read at the tenth verse of the aforesaid

"'Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. She riseth while it is yet night, and giveth

meat to her household. She girdeth her loins with strength and strengtheneth her arms. She perceiveth that her

merchandise is good; her candle goeth not out by night. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and

eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth

"I could not help thinking how very aptly that chapter your dear father read applied, in some of its particulars,

to the woman you have chosen. The perfect woman, you see, was a working woman; not an idler; not a fine

lady; but one who used her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others. 'Her children arise up and

call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but she

excelleth them all.' Well, I wish I could have seen her, Angel. Since she is pure and chaste she would have

Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade

a quick goodnight to these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew neither the world, the

flesh, nor the devil in their own hearts; only as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his

His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to discover her standing without, with

"Angel," she asked, "is there something wrong that you do away so soon? I am quite sure you are not

"About her? Now, my son, I know it thatI know it is about her! Have you quarrelled in these three weeks?"

With a mother's instinct Mrs Clare had put her finger on the kind of trouble that would cause such a disquiet

"She is spotless!" he replied; and felt that if it had sent him to eternal hell there and then he would have told

"Then never mind the rest. After all, there are few purer things in nature then an unsullied country maid. Any

crudeness of manner which may offend your more educated sense at first, will, I am sure, disappear under the

influence or your companionship and tuition." Such terrible sarcasm of blind magnanimity brought home to

Clare the secondary perception that he had utterly wrecked his career by this marriage, which had not been

among his early thoughts after the disclosure. True, on his own account he cared very little about his career;

but he had wished to make it at least a respectable one on account of his parents and brothers. And now as he

looked into the candle its flame dumbly expressed to him that it was made to shine on sensible people, and

When his agitation had cooled he would be at moments incensed with his poor wife for causing a situation in

which he was obliged to practise deception on his parents. He almost talked to her in his anger, as if she had

been in the room. And then her cooing voice, plaintive in expostulation, disturbed the darkness, the velvet

touch of her lips passed over his brow, and he could distinguish in the air the warmth of her breath.

This night the woman of his belittling deprecations was thinking how great and good her husband was. But

over them both there hung a deeper shade than the shade which Angel Clare perceived, namely, the shade of

his own limitations. With all his attempted independence of judgement this advanced and wellmeaning

young man, a sample product of the last fiveandtwenty years, was yet the slave to custom and

conventionality when surprised back into her early teachings. No prophet had told him, and he was not

prophet enough to tell himself, that essentially this young wife of his was as deserving of the praise of King

Lemuel as any other woman endowed with the same dislike of evil, her moral value having to be reckoned

not by achievement but by tendency. Moreover, the figure near at hand suffers on such occasion, because it

shows up its sorriness without shade; while vague figures afar off are honoured, in that their distance makes

artistic virtues of their stains. In considering what Tess was not, he overlooked what she was, and forgot that

At breakfast Brazil was the topic, and all endeavoured to take a hopeful view of Clare's proposed experiment

with that country's soil, notwithstanding the discouraging reports of some farmlabourers who had emigrated

thither and returned home within the twelve months. After breakfast Clare went into the little town to wind

up such trifling matters as he was concerned with there, and to get from the local bank all the money he

possessed. On his way back he encountered Miss Mercy Chant by the church, from whose walls she seemed

to be a sort of emanation. She was carrying an armful of Bibles for her class, and such was her view of life

that events which produced heartache in others wrought beatific smiles upon heran enviable result,

although, in the opinion of Angel, it was obtained by a curiously unnatural sacrifice of humanity to

She had learnt that he was about to leave England, and observed what an excellent and promising scheme it

"Yes; it is a likely scheme enough in a commercial sense, no doubt," he replied. "But, my dear Mercy, it

"And Roman Catholicism sin, and sin damnation. Thou are in a parlous state, Angel Clare."

Then Clare, thrown by sheer misery into one of the demoniacal moods in which a man does despite to his true

principles, called her close to him, and fiendishly whispered in her ear the most heterodox ideas he could

think of. His momentary laughter at the horror which appeared on her fair face ceased when it merged in pain

She thought that he was; and thus the interview ended, and Clare reentered the Vicarage. With the local

banker he deposited the jewels till happier days should arise. He also paid into the bank thirty poundsto be

sent to Tess in a few months, as she might require; and wrote to her at her parents' home in Blackmoor Vale

to inform her of what he had done. This amount, with the sum he had already placed in her handsabout

fifty poundshe hoped would be amply sufficient for her wants just at present, particularly as in an

He deemed it best not to put his parents into communication with her by informing them of her address; and,

being unaware of what had really happened to estrange the two, neither his father nor his mother suggested

that he should do so. During the day he left the parsonage, for what he had to complete he wished to get done

As the last duty before leaving this part of England it was necessary for him to call at the Wellbridge

farmhouse, in which he had spent with Tess the first three days of their marriage, the trifle of rent having to

be paid, the key given up of the rooms they had occupied, and two or three small articles fetched away that

they had left behind. It was under this roof that the deepest shadow ever thrown upon his life had stretched its

gloom over him. Yet when he had unlocked the door of the sittingroom and looked into it, the memory

which returned first upon him was that of their happy arrival on a similar afternoon, the first fresh sense of

sharing a habitation conjointly, the first meal together, the chatting by the fire with joined hands.

The farmer and his wife were in the field at the moment of his visit, and Clare was in the rooms alone for

some time. Inwardly swollen with a renewal of sentiment that he had not quite reckoned with, he went

upstairs to her chamber, which had never been his. The bed was smooth as she had made it with her own

hands on the morning of leaving. The mistletoe hung under the tester just as he had placed it. Having been

there three or four weeks it was turning colour, and the leaves and berries were wrinkled. Angel took it down

and crushed it into the grate. Standing there he for the first time doubted whether his course in this conjecture

had been a wise, much less a generous, one. But had he not been cruelly blinded? In the incoherent multitude

of his emotions he knelt down at the bedside weteyed. "O Tess! If you had only told me sooner, I would

Hearing a footstep below he rose and went to the top of the stairs. At the bottom of the flight he saw a woman

standing, and on her turning up her face recognized the pale, darkeyed Izz Huett.

"Mr Clare," she said, "I've called to see you and Mrs Clare, and to inquire if ye be well. I thought you might

This was a girl whose secret he had guessed, but who had not yet guessed his; an honest girl who loved

himone who would have made as good, or nearly as good, a practical farmer's wife as Tess.

"I am here alone," he said; "we are not living here now." Explaining why he had come, he asked, "Which way

"It was so dismal there that I left! I am staying out this way." She pointed in a contrary direction, the direction

"Wellare you going there now? I can take you if you wish for a lift." Her olive complexion grew richer in

He soon found the farmer, and settled the account for his rent and the few other items which had to be

considered by reason of the sudden abandonment of the lodgings. On Clare's return to his horse and gig Izz

"I am going to leave England, Izz," he said, as they drove on. "Going to Brazil."

"She is not going at presentsay for a year or so. I am going out to reconnoitreto see what life there is

They sped along eastward for some considerable distance, Izz making no observation.

"She was in a sort of nervous state when I zid her last; and so thin and hollowcheeked that 'a do seem in a

"I don't drink, and I bain't in a decline. ButI am no great things at singing afore breakfast now!"

"How is that? Do you remember how neatly you used to turn ''Twas down in Cupid's Gardens' and 'The

"Ah, yes! When you first came, sir, that was. Not when you had been there a bit."

"Izz!how weak of youfor such as I!" he said, and fell into reverie. "Thensuppose I had asked YOU to

"If you had I should have said 'Yes', and you would have married a woman who loved 'ee!"

"Down to the ground!" she whispered vehemently. "O my God! did you never guess it till now!" Byandby

"I must get down. I live out there," said Izz abruptly, never having spoken since her avowal.

Clare slowed the horse. He was incensed against his fate, bitterly disposed towards social ordinances; for they

had cooped him up in a corner, out of which there was no legitimate pathway. Why not be revenged on

society by shaping his future domesticities loosely, instead of kissing the pedagogic rod of convention in this

"I am going to Brazil alone, Izz," said he. "I have separated from my wife for personal, not voyaging, reason.

I may never live with her again. I may not be able to love you; butwill you go with me instead of her?"

"I do. I have been badly used enough to wish for relief. And you at least love me disinterestedly."

"It means that I shall live with you for the time you are over therethat's good enough for me."

"Remember, you are not to trust me in morals now. But I ought to remind you that it will be wrongdoing in

"I don't mind that; no woman do when it comes to agony point, and there's no other way!"

He drove past the crossroads, one mile, two miles, without showing any signs of affection.

"Because nobody could love 'ee more than Tess did! ... She would have laid down her life for 'ee. I could do

Like the prophet on the top of Peor, Izz Huett would fain have spoken perversely at such a moment, but the

fascination exercised over her rougher nature by Tess's character compelled her to grace.

Clare was silent; his heart had risen at these straightforward words from such an unexpected unimpeachable

quarter. In his throat was something as if a sob had solidified there. His ear repeated, "SHE WOULD HAVE

"Forget our idle talk, Izz," he said, turning the horse's head suddenly. "I don't know what I've been saying! I

Izz Huett burst into wild tears, and beat her forehead as she saw what she had done.

"Do you regret that poor little act of justice to an absent one? O, Izz, don't spoil it by regret!"

"Very well, sir. Perhaps I didn't know what I was saying, either, whwhen I agreed to go! I wishwhat

They reached the corner of the lane which they had passed half an hour earlier, and she hopped down.

"Izzplease, please forget my momentary levity!" he cried. "It was so illconsidered, so illadvised!"

He felt how richly he deserved the reproach that the wounded cry conveyed, and, in a sorrow that was

"Well, but, Izz, we'll part friends, anyhow? You don't know what I've had to bear!"

She was a really generous girl, and allowed no further bitterness to mar their adieux.

"Now, Izz," he said, while she stood beside him there, forcing himself to the mentor's part he was far from

feeling; "I want you to tell Marian when you see her that she is to be a good woman, and not to give way to

folly. Promise that, and tell Retty that there are more worthy men than I in the world, that for my sake she is

to act wisely and wellremember the wordswisely and wellfor my sake. I send this message to them as

a dying man to the dying; for I shall never see them again. And you, Izzy, you have saved me by your honest

words about my wife from an incredible impulse towards folly and treachery. Women may be bad, but they

are not so bad as men in these things! On that one account I can never forget you. Be always the good and

sincere girl you have hitherto been; and think of me as a worthless lover, but a faithful friend. Promise."

He drove on; but no sooner had Izz turned into the lane, and Clare was out of sight, than she flung herself

down on the bank in a fit of racking anguish; and it was with a strained unnatural face that she entered her

mother's cottage late that night. Nobody ever was told how Izz spent the dark hours that intervened between

Clare, too, after bidding the girl farewell, was wrought to aching thoughts and quivering lips. But his sorrow

was not for Izz. That evening he was within a featherweight's turn of abandoning his road to the nearest

station, and driving across that elevated dorsal line of South Wessex which divided him from his Tess's

home. It was neither a contempt for her nature, nor the probable state of her heart, which deterred him.

No; it was a sense that, despite her love, as corroborated by Izz's admission, the facts had not changed. If he

was right at first, he was right now. And the momentum of the course on which he had embarked tended to

keep him going in it, unless diverted by a stronger, more sustained force than had played upon him this

afternoon. He could soon come back to her. He took the train that night for London, and five days after shook

From the foregoing events of the wintertime let us press on to an October day, more than eight months

subsequent to the parting of Clare and Tess. We discover the latter in changed conditions; instead of a bride

with boxes and trunks which others bore, we see her a lonely woman with a basket and a bundle in her own

porterage, as at an earlier time when she was no bride; instead of the ample means that were projected by her

husband for her comfort through this probationary period, she can produce only a flattened purse.

After again leaving Marlott, her home, she had got through the spring and summer without any great stress

upon her physical powers, the time being mainly spent in rendering light irregular service at dairywork near

PortBredy to the west of the Blackmoor Valley, equally remote from her native place and from Talbothays.

She preferred this to living on his allowance. Mentally she remained in utter stagnation, a condition which the

mechanical occupation rather fostered than checked. Her consciousness was at that other dairy, at that other

season, in the presence of the tender lover who had confronted her therehe who, the moment she had

The dairywork lasted only till the milk began to lessen, for she had not met with a second regular

engagement as at Talbothays, but had done duty as a supernumerary only. However, as harvest was now

beginning, she had simply to remove from the pasture to the stubble to find plenty of further occupation, and

Of the fiveandtwenty pounds which had remained to her of Clare's allowance, after deducting the other

half of the fifty as a contribution to her parents for the trouble and expense to which she had put them, she

had as yet spent but little. But there now followed an unfortunate interval of wet weather, during which she

She could not bear to let them go. Angel had put them into her hand, had obtained them bright and new from

his bank for her; his touch had consecrated them to souvenirs of himselfthey appeared to have had as yet

no other history than such as was created by his and her own experiencesand to disperse them was like

She had been compelled to send her mother her address from time to time, but she concealed her

circumstances. When her money had almost gone a letter from her mother reached her. Joan stated that they

were in dreadful difficulty; the autumn rains had gone through the thatch of the house, which required entire

renewal; but this could not be done because the previous thatching had never been paid for. New rafters and a

new ceiling upstairs also were required, which, with the previous bill, would amount to a sum of twenty

pounds. As her husband was a man of means, and had doubtless returned by this time, could she not send

Tess had thirty pounds coming to her almost immediately from Angel's bankers, and, the case being so

deplorable, as soon as the sum was received she sent the twenty as requested. Part of the remainder she was

obliged to expend in winter clothing, leaving only a nominal sum for the whole inclement season at hand.

When the last pound had gone, a remark of Angel's that whenever she required further resources she was to

But the more Tess thought of the step the more reluctant was she to take it. The same delicacy, pride, false

shame, whatever it may be called, on Clare's account, which had led her to hide from her own parents the

prolongation of the estrangement, hindered her owning to his that she was in want after the fair allowance he

had left her. They probably despised her already; how much more they would despise her in the character of a

mendicant! The consequence was that by no effort could the parson's daughterinlaw bring herself to let

Her reluctance to communicate with her husband's parents might, she thought, lessen with the lapse of time;

but with her own the reverse obtained. On her leaving their house after the short visit subsequent to her

marriage they were under the impression that she was ultimately going to join her husband; and from that

time to the present she had done nothing to disturb their belief that she was awaiting his return in comfort,

hoping against hope that his journey to Brazil would result in a short stay only, after which he would come to

fetch her, or that he would write for her to join him; in any case that they would soon present a united front to

their families and the world. This hope she still fostered. To let her parents know that she was a deserted wife,

dependent, now that she had relieved their necessities, on her own hands for a living, after the ECLAT of a

marriage which was to nullify the collapse of the first attempt, would be too much indeed.

The set of brilliants returned to her mind. Where Clare had deposited them she did not know, and it mattered

little, if it were true that she could only use and not sell them. Even were they absolutely hers it would be

passing mean to enrich herself by a legal title to them which was not essentially hers at all.

Meanwhile her husband's days had been by no means free from trial. At this moment he was lying ill of fever

in the clay lands near Curitiba in Brazil, having been drenched with thunderstorms and persecuted by other

hardships, in common with all the English farmers and farmlabourers who, just at this time, were deluded

into going thither by the promises of the Brazilian Government, and by the baseless assumption that those

frames which, ploughing and sowing on English uplands, had resisted all the weathers to whose moods they

had been born, could resist equally well all the weathers by which they were surprised on Brazilian plains.

To return. Thus it happened that when the last of Tess's sovereigns had been spent she was unprovided with

others to take their place, while on account of the season she found it increasingly difficult to get

employment. Not being aware of the rarity of intelligence, energy, health, and willingness in any sphere of

life, she refrained from seeking an indoor occupation; fearing towns, large houses, people of means and social

sophistication, and of manners other than rural. From that direction of gentility Black Care had come. Society

might be better than she supposed from her slight experience of it. But she had no proof of this, and her

The small dairies to the west, beyond PortBredy, in which she had served as supernumerary milkmaid

during the spring and summer required no further aid. Room would probably have been made for her at

Talbothays, if only out of sheer compassion; but comfortable as her life had been there she could not go back.

The anticlimax would be too intolerable; and her return might bring reproach upon her idolized husband.

She could not have borne their pity, and their whispered remarks to one another upon her strange situation;

though she would almost have faced a knowledge of her circumstances by every individual there, so long as

her story had remained isolated in the mind of each. It was the interchange of ideas about her that made her

sensitiveness wince. Tess could not account for this distinction; she simply knew that she felt it.

She was now on her way to an upland farm in the centre of the county, to which she had been recommended

by a wandering letter which had reached her from Marian. Marian had somehow heard that Tess was

separated from her husbandprobably through Izz Huettand the goodnatured and now tippling girl,

deeming Tess in trouble, had hastened to notify to her former friend that she herself had gone to this upland

spot after leaving the dairy, and would like to see her there, where there was room for other hands, if it was

With the shortening of the days all hope of obtaining her husband's forgiveness began to leave her; and there

was something of the habitude of the wild animal in the unreflecting instinct with which she rambled on

disconnecting herself by littles from her eventful past at every step, obliterating her identity, giving no

thought to accidents or contingencies which might make a quick discovery of her whereabouts by others of

Among the difficulties of her lonely position not the least was the attention she excited by her appearance, a

certain bearing of distinction, which she had caught from Clare, being superadded to her natural

attractiveness. Whilst the clothes lasted which had been prepared for her marriage, these casual glances of

interest caused her no inconvenience, but as soon as she was compelled to don the wrapper of a fieldwoman,

rude words were addressed to her more than once; but nothing occurred to cause her bodily fear till a

She had preferred the country west of the River Brit to the upland farm for which she was now bound,

because, for one thing, it was nearer to the home of her husband's father; and to hover about that region

unrecognized, with the notion that she might decide to call at the Vicarage some day, gave her pleasure. But

having once decided to try the higher and drier levels, she pressed back eastward, marching afoot towards the

The lane was long and unvaried, and, owing to the rapid shortening of the days, dusk came upon her before

she was aware. She had reached the top of a hill down which the lane stretched its serpentine length in

glimpses, when she heard footsteps behind her back, and in a few moments she was overtaken by a man. He

The light still remaining in the sky lit up her face, though the landscape was nearly dark. The man turned and

"Why, surely, it is the young wench who was at Trantridge awhileyoung Squire d'Urberville's friend? I

She recognized in him the welltodo boor whom Angel had knocked down at the inn for addressing her

"Be honest enough to own it, and that what I said in the town was true, though your fancyman was so up

about ithey, my sly one? You ought to beg my pardon for that blow of his, considering."

Still no answer came from Tess. There seemed only one escape for her hunted soul. She suddenly took to her

heels with the speed of the wind, and, without looking behind her, ran along the road till she came to a gate

which opened directly into a plantation. Into this she plunged, and did not pause till she was deep enough in

Under foot the leaves were dry, and the foliage of some holly bushes which grew among the deciduous trees

was dense enough to keep off draughts. She scraped together the dead leaves till she had formed them into a

Such sleep as she got was naturally fitful; she fancied she heard strange noises, but persuaded herself that

they were caused by the breeze. She thought of her husband in some vague warm clime on the other side of

the globe, while she was here in the cold. Was there another such a wretched being as she in the world? Tess

asked herself; and, thinking of her wasted life, said, "All is vanity." She repeated the words mechanically, till

she reflected that this was a most inadequate thought for modern days. Solomon had thought as far as that

more than two thousand years ago; she herself, though not in the van of thinkers, had got much further. If all

were only vanity, who would mind it? All was, alas, worse than vanityinjustice, punishment, exaction,

death. The wife of Angel Clare put her hand in her brow, and felt its curve, and the edges of her eyesockets

perceptible under the soft skin, and thought as she did so that a time would come when that bone would be

In the midst of these whimsical fancies she heard a new strange sound among the leaves. It might be the

wind; yet there was scarcely any wind. Sometimes it was a palpitation, sometimes a flutter; sometimes it was

a sort of gasp or gurgle. Soon she was certain that the noises came from wild creatures of some kind, the

more so when, originating in the boughs overhead, they were followed by the fall of a heavy body upon the

ground. Had she been ensconced here under other and more pleasant conditions she would have become

Day at length broke in the sky. When it had been day aloft for some little while it became day in the wood.

Directly the assuring and prosaic light of the world's active hours had grown strong she crept from under her

hillock of leaves, and looked around boldly. Then she perceived what had been going on to disturb her. The

plantation wherein she had taken shelter ran down at this spot into a peak, which ended it hitherward, outside

the hedge being arable ground. Under the trees several pheasants lay about, their rich plumage dabbled with

blood; some were dead, some feebly twitching a wing, some staring up at the sky, some pulsating quickly,

some contorted, some stretched outall of them writhing in agony, except the fortunate ones whose tortures

Tess guessed at once the meaning of this. The birds had been driven down into this corner the day before by

some shootingparty; and while those that had dropped dead under the shot, or had died before nightfall, had

been searched for and carried off, many badly wounded birds had escaped and hidden themselves away, or

risen among the thick boughs, where they had maintained their position till they grew weaker with loss of

She had occasionally caught glimpses of these men in girlhood, looking over hedges, or peeping through

bushes, and pointing their guns, strangely accoutred, a bloodthirsty light in their eyes. She had been told that,

rough and brutal as they seemed just then, they were not like this all the year round, but were, in fact, quite

civil persons save during certain weeks of autumn and winter, when, like the inhabitants of the Malay

Peninsula, they ran amuck, and made it their purpose to destroy lifein this case harmless feathered

creatures, brought into being by artificial means solely to gratify these propensitiesat once so unmannerly

With the impulse of a soul who could feel for kindred sufferers as much as for herself, Tess's first thought

was to put the still living birds out of their torture, and to this end with her own hands she broke the necks of

as many as she could find, leaving them to lie where she had found them till the gamekeepers should

"Poor darlingsto suppose myself the most miserable being on earth in the sight o' such misery as yours!"

she exclaimed, her tears running down as she killed the birds tenderly. "And not a twinge of bodily pain

about me! I be not mangled, and I be not bleeding, and I have two hands to feed and clothe me." She was

ashamed of herself for her gloom of the night, based on nothing more tangible than a sense of condemnation

It was now broad day, and she started again, emerging cautiously upon the highway. But there was no need

for caution; not a soul was at hand, and Tess went onward with fortitude, her recollection of the birds' silent

endurance of their night of agony impressing upon her the relativity of sorrows and the tolerable nature of her

own, if she could once rise high enough to despise opinion. But that she could not do so long as it was held

She reached ChalkNewton, and breakfasted at an inn, where several young men were troublesomely

complimentary to her good looks. Somehow she felt hopeful, for was it not possible that her husband also

might say these same things to her even yet? She was bound to take care of herself on the chance of it, and

keep off these casual lovers. To this end Tess resolved to run no further risks from her appearance. As soon

as she got out of the village she entered a thicket and took from her basket one of the oldest fieldgowns,

which she had never put on even at the dairynever since she had worked among the stubble at Marlott. She

also, by a felicitous thought, took a handkerchief from her bundle and tied it round her face under her bonnet,

covering her chin and half her cheeks and temples, as if she were suffering from toothache. Then with her

little scissors, by the aid of a pocket lookingglass, she mercilessly nipped her eyebrows off, and thus insured

"But I don't care!" she said. "O noI don't care! I'll always be ugly now, because Angel is not here, and I

have nobody to take care of me. My husband that was is gone away, and never will love me any more; but I

love him just the same, and hate all other men, and like to make 'em think scornfully of me!"

Thus Tess walks on; a figure which is part of the landscape; a fieldwoman pure and simple, in winter guise; a

gray serge cape, a red woollen cravat, a stuff skirt covered by a whiteybrown rough wrapper, and

buffleather gloves. Every thread of that old attire has become faded and thin under the stroke of raindrops,

the burn of sunbeams, and the stress of winds. There is no sign of young passion in her now

The maiden's mouth is cold . . . . . . . . Fold over simple fold Binding her head.

Inside this exterior, over which the eye might have roved as over a thing scarcely percipient, almost

inorganic, there was the record of a pulsing life which had learnt too well, for its years, of the dust and ashes

Next day the weather was bad, but she trudged on, the honesty, directness, and impartiality of elemental

enmity disconcerting her but little. Her object being a winter's occupation and a winter's home, there was no

time to lose. Her experience of short hirings had been such that she was determined to accept no more.

Thus she went forward from farm to farm in the direction of the place whence Marian had written to her,

which she determined to make use of as a last shift only, its rumoured stringencies being the reverse of

tempting. First she inquired for the lighter kinds of employment, and, as acceptance in any variety of these

grew hopeless, applied next for the less light, till, beginning with the dairy and poultry tendance that she liked

best, she ended with the heavy and course pursuits which she liked leastwork on arable land: work of such

Towards the second evening she reached the irregular chalk tableland or plateau, bosomed with

semiglobular tumulias if Cybele the Manybreasted were supinely extended therewhich stretched

Here the air was dry and cold, and the long cartroads were blown white and dusty within a few hours after

rain. There were few trees, or none, those that would have grown in the hedges being mercilessly plashed

down with the quickset by the tenantfarmers, the natural enemies of tree, bush, and brake. In the middle

distance ahead of her she could see the summits of Bulbarrow and of Nettlecombe Tout, and they seemed

friendly. They had a low and unassuming aspect from this upland, though as approached on the other side

from Blackmoor in her childhood they were as lofty bastions against the sky. Southerly, at many miles'

distance, and over the hills and ridges coastward, she could discern a surface like polished steel: it was the

Before her, in a slight depression, were the remains of a village. She had, in fact, reached FlintcombAsh, the

place of Marian's sojourn. There seemed to be no help for it; hither she was doomed to come. The stubborn

soil around her showed plainly enough that the kind of labour in demand here was of the roughest kind; but it

was time to rest from searching, and she resolved to stay, particularly as it began to rain. At the entrance to

the village was a cottage whose gable jutted into the road, and before applying for a lodging she stood under

The wall felt warm to her back and shoulders, and she found that immediately within the gable was the

cottage fireplace, the heat of which came through the bricks. She warmed her hands upon them, and also put

her cheekred and moist with the drizzleagainst their comforting surface. The wall seemed to be the only

friend she had. She had so little wish to leave it that she could have stayed there all night.

Tess could hear the occupants of the cottagegathered together after their day's labourtalking to each

other within, and the rattle of their supperplates was also audible. But in the villagestreet she had seen no

soul as yet. The solitude was at last broken by the approach of one feminine figure, who, though the evening

was cold, wore the print gown and the tiltbonnet of summer time. Tess instinctively thought it might be

Marian, and when she came near enough to be distinguishable in the gloom surely enough it was she. Marian

was even stouter and redder in the face than formerly, and decidedly shabbier in attire. At any previous

period of her existence Tess would hardly have cared to renew the acquaintance in such conditions; but her

Marian was quite respectful in her inquiries, but seemed much moved by the fact that Tess should still

continue in no better condition than at first; though she had dimly heard of the separation.

"TessMrs Clarethe dear wife of dear he! And is it really so bad as this, my child? Why is your cwomely

"And you've got no collar on" (Tess had been accustomed to wear a little white collar at the dairy).

"I've not lost it. The truth is, I don't care anything about my looks; and so I didn't put it on."

"Yes, I do; but not in public. I wear it round my neck on a ribbon. I don't wish people to think who I am by

marriage, or that I am married at all; it would be so awkward while I lead my present life."

"But you BE a gentleman's wife; and it seems hardly fair that you should live like this!"

"You've no faults, deary; that I'm sure of. And he's none. So it must be something outside ye both."

"Marian, dear Marian, will you do me a good turn without asking questions? My husband has gone abroad,

and somehow I have overrun my allowance, so that I have to fall back upon my old work for a time. Do not

"O yes; they'll take one always, because few care to come. "Tis a starveacre place. Corn and swedes are all

they grow. Though I be here myself, I feel 'tis a pity for such as you to come."

"Yes; but I've got out o' that since I took to drink. Lord, that's the only comfort I've got now! If you engage,

"Very well. Now, Marian, remembernothing about HIM, if I get the place. I don't wish to bring his name

Marian, who was really a trustworthy girl though of coarser grain than Tess, promised anything she asked.

"This is paynight," she said, "and if you were to come with me you would know at once. I be real sorry that

you are not happy; but 'tis because he's away, I know. You couldn't be unhappy if he were here, even if he

They walked on together, and soon reached the farmhouse, which was almost sublime in its dreariness. There

was not a tree within sight; there was not, at this season, a green pasturenothing but fallow and turnips

Tess waited outside the door of the farmhouse till the group of workfolk had received their wages, and then

Marian introduced her. The farmer himself, it appeared, was not at home, but his wife, who represented him

this evening, made no objection to hiring Tess, on her agreeing to remain till Old LadyDay. Female

fieldlabour was seldom offered now, and its cheapness made it profitable for tasks which women could

Having signed the agreement, there was nothing more for Tess to do at present than to get a lodging, and she

found one in the house at whose gablewall she had warmed herself. It was a poor subsistence that she had

That night she wrote to inform her parents of her new address, in case a letter should arrive at Marlott from

her husband. But she did not tell them of the sorriness of her situation: it might have brought reproach upon

There was no exaggeration in Marian's definition of FlintcombAsh farm as a starveacre place. The single

fat thing on the soil was Marian herself; and she was an importation. Of the three classes of village, the

village cared for by its lord, the village cared for by itself, and the village uncared for either by itself or by its

lord (in other words, the village of a resident squires's tenantry, the village of free or copyholders, and the

absenteeowner's village, farmed with the land) this place, FlintcombAsh, was the third.

But Tess set to work. Patience, that blending of moral courage with physical timidity, was now no longer a

The swedefield in which she and her companion were set hacking was a stretch of a hundred odd acres, in

one patch, on the highest ground of the farm, rising above stony lanchets or lynchetsthe outcrop of

siliceous veins in the chalk formation, composed of myriads of loose white flints in bulbous, cusped, and

phallic shapes. The upper half of each turnip had been eaten off by the livestock, and it was the business of

the two women to grub up the lower or earthy half of the root with a hooked fork called a hacker, that it

might be eaten also. Every leaf of the vegetable having already been consumed, the whole field was in colour

a desolate drab; it was a complexion without features, as if a face, from chin to brow, should be only an

expanse of skin. The sky wore, in another colour, the same likeness; a white vacuity of countenance with the

lineaments gone. So these two upper and nether visages confronted each other all day long, the white face

looking down on the brown face, and the brown face looking up at the white face, without anything standing

between them but the two girls crawling over the surface of the former like flies.

Nobody came near them, and their movements showed a mechanical regularity; their forms standing

enshrouded in Hessian "wroppers"sleeved brown pinafores, tied behind to the bottom, to keep their gowns

from blowing aboutscant skirts revealing boots that reached high up the ankles, and yellow sheepskin

gloves with gauntlets. The pensive character which the curtained hood lent to their bent heads would have

They worked on hour after hour, unconscious of the forlorn aspect they bore in the landscape, not thinking of

the justice or injustice of their lot. Even in such a position as theirs it was possible to exist in a dream. In the

afternoon the rain came on again, and Marian said that they need not work any more. But if they did not work

they would not be paid; so they worked on. It was so high a situation, this field, that the rain had no occasion

to fall, but raced along horizontally upon the yelling wind, sticking into them like glass splinters till they were

wet through. Tess had not known till now what was really meant by that. There are degrees of dampness, and

a very little is called being wet through in common talk. But to stand working slowly in a field, and feel the

creep of rainwater, first in legs and shoulders, then on hips and head, then at back, front, and sides, and yet

to work on till the leaden light diminishes and marks that the sun is down, demands a distinct modicum of

Yet they did not feel the wetness so much as might be supposed. They were both young, and they were

talking of the time when they lived and loved together at Talbothays Dairy, that happy green tract of land

where summer had been liberal in her gifts; in substance to all, emotionally to these. Tess would fain not have

conversed with Marian of the man who was legally, if not actually, her husband; but the irresistible

fascination of the subject betrayed her into reciprocating Marian's remarks. And thus, as has been said,

though the damp curtains of their bonnets flapped smartly into their faces, and their wrappers clung about

them to wearisomeness, they lived all this afternoon in memories of green, sunny, romantic Talbothays.

"You can see a gleam of a hill within a few miles o' Froom Valley from here when 'tis fine," said Marian.

So the two forces were at work here as everywhere, the inherent will to enjoy, and the circumstantial will

against enjoyment. Marian's will had a method of assisting itself by taking from her pocket as the afternoon

wore on a pint bottle corked with white rag, from which she invited Tess to drink. Tess's unassisted power of

dreaming, however, being enough for her sublimation at present, she declined except the merest sip, and then

"I've got used to it," she said, "and can't leave it off now. 'Tis my only comfortYou see I lost him: you

Tess thought her loss as great as Marian's, but upheld by the dignity of being Angel's wife, in the letter at

Amid this scene Tess slaved in the morning frosts and in the afternoon rains. When it was not

swedegrubbing it was swedetrimming, in which process they sliced off the earth and the fibres with a

billhook before storing the roots for future use. At this occupation they could shelter themselves by a

thatched hurdle if it rained; but if it was frosty even their thick leather gloves could not prevent the frozen

masses they handled from biting their fingers. Still Tess hoped. She had a conviction that sooner or later the

magnanimity which she persisted in reckoning as a chief ingredient of Clare's character would lead him to

Marian, primed to a humorous mood, would discover the queershaped flints aforesaid, and shriek with

laughter, Tess remaining severely obtuse. They often looked across the country to where the Var or Froom

was know to stretch, even though they might not be able to see it; and, fixing their eyes on the cloaking gray

"Ah," said Marian, "how I should like another or two of our old set to come here! Then we could bring up

Talbothays every day here afield, and talk of he, and of what nice times we had there, and o' the old things we

used to know, and make it all come back a'most, in seeming!" Marian's eyes softened, and her voice grew

vague as the visions returned. "I'll write to Izz Huett," she said. "She's biding at home doing nothing now, I

know, and I'll tell her we be here, and ask her to come; and perhaps Retty is well enough now."

Tess had nothing to say against the proposal, and the next she heard of this plan for importing old Talbothays'

joys was two or three days later, when Marian informed her that Izz had replied to her inquiry, and had

There had not been such a winter for years. It came on in stealthy and measured glides, like the moves of a

chessplayer. One morning the few lonely trees and the thorns of the hedgerows appeared as if they had put

off a vegetable for an animal integument. Every twig was covered with a white nap as of fur grown from the

rind during the night, giving it four times its usual stoutness; the whole bush or tree forming a staring sketch

in white lines on the mournful gray of the sky and horizon. Cobwebs revealed their presence on sheds and

walls where none had ever been observed till brought out into visibility by the crystallizing atmosphere,

hanging like loops of white worsted from salient points of the outhouses, posts, and gates.

After this season of congealed dampness came a spell of dry frost, when strange birds from behind the North

Pole began to arrive silently on the upland of FlintcombAsh; gaunt spectral creatures with tragical

eyeseyes which had witnessed scenes of cataclysmal horror in inaccessible polar regions of a magnitude

such as no human being had ever conceived, in curdling temperatures that no man could endure; which had

beheld the crash of icebergs and the slide of snowhills by the shooting light of the Aurora; been half blinded

by the whirl of colossal storms and terraqueous distortions; and retained the expression of feature that such

scenes had engendered. These nameless birds came quite near to Tess and Marian, but of all they had seen

which humanity would never see, they brought no account. The traveller's ambition to tell was not theirs, and,

with dumb impassivity, they dismissed experiences which they did not value for the immediate incidents of

this homely uplandthe trivial movements of the two girls in disturbing the clods with their hackers so as to

Then one day a peculiar quality invaded the air of this open country. There came a moisture which was not of

rain, and a cold which was not of frost. It chilled the eyeballs of the twain, made their brows ache, penetrated

to their skeletons, affecting the surface of the body less than its core. They knew that it meant snow, and in

the night the snow came. Tess, who continued to live at the cottage with the warm gable that cheered any

lonely pedestrian who paused beside it, awoke in the night, and heard above the thatch noises which seemed

to signify that the roof had turned itself into a gymnasium of all the winds. When she lit her lamp to get up in

the morning she found that the snow had blown through a chink in the casement, forming a white cone of the

finest powder against the inside, and had also come down the chimney, so that it lay soledeep upon the

floor, on which her shoes left tracks when she moved about. Without, the storm drove so fast as to create a

Tess knew that it was impossible to go on with the swedes; and by the time she had finished breakfast beside

the solitary little lamp, Marian arrived to tell her that they were to join the rest of the women at reeddrawing

in the barn till the weather changed. As soon, therefore, as the uniform cloak of darkness without began to

turn to a disordered medley of grays, they blew out the lamp, wrapped themselves up in their thickest pinners,

tied their woollen cravats round their necks and across their chests, and started for the barn. The snow had

followed the birds from the polar basin as a white pillar of a cloud, and individual flakes could not be seen.

The blast smelt of icebergs, arctic seas, whales, and white bears, carrying the snow so that it licked the land

but did not deepen on it. They trudged onwards with slanted bodies through the flossy fields, keeping as well

as they could in the shelter of hedges, which, however, acted as strainers rather than screens. The air, afflicted

to pallor with the hoary multitudes that infested it, twisted and spun them eccentrically, suggesting an

achromatic chaos of things. But both the young women were fairly cheerful; such weather on a dry upland is

"Haha! the cunning northern birds knew this was coming," said Marian. "Depend upon't, they keep just in

front o't all the way from the North Star. Your husband, my dear, is, I make no doubt, having scorching

weather all this time. Lord, if he could only see his pretty wife now! Not that this weather hurts your beauty

Instead of answering, Tess, with tears in her eyes, impulsively faced in the direction in which she imagined

South America to lie, and, putting up her lips, blew out a passionate kiss upon the snowy wind.

"Well, well, I know you do. But 'pon my body, it is a rum life for a married couple! ThereI won't say

another word! Well, as for the weather, it won't hurt us in the wheatbarn; but reeddrawing is fearful hard

workworse than swedehacking. I can stand it because I'm stout; but you be slimmer than I. I can't think

They reached the wheatbarn and entered it. One end of the long structure was full of corn; the middle was

where the reeddrawing was carried on, and there had already been placed in the reedpress the evening

before as many sheaves of wheat as would be sufficient for the women to draw from during the day.

Izz it was, and she came forward. She had walked all the way from her mother's home on the previous

afternoon, and, not deeming the distance so great, had been belated, arriving, however, just before the snow

began, and sleeping at the alehouse. The farmer had agreed with her mother at market to take her on if she

In addition to Tess, Marian, and Izz, there were two women from a neighbouring village; two Amazonian

sisters, whom Tess with a start remembered as Dark Car the Queen of Spades and her junior the Queen of

Diamondsthose who had tried to fight with her in the midnight quarrel at Trantridge. They showed no

recognition of her, and possibly had none, for they had been under the influence of liquor on that occasion,

and were only temporary sojourners there as here. They did all kinds of men's work of preference, including

wellsinking, hedging, ditching, and excavating, without any sense of fatigue. Noted reeddrawers were they

Putting on their gloves all set to work in a row in front of the press, an erection formed of two posts

connected by a crossbeam, under which the sheaves to be drawn from were laid ears outward, the beam

being pegged down by pins in the uprights, and lowered as the sheaves diminished.

The day hardened in colour, the light coming in at the barndoors upwards from the snow instead of

downwards from the sky. The girls pulled handful after handful from the press; but by reason of the presence

of the strange women, who were recounting scandals, Marian and Izz could not at first talk of old times as

they wished to do. Presently they heard the muffled tread of a horse, and the farmer rode up to the barndoor.

When he had dismounted he came close to Tess, and remained looking musingly at the side of her face. She

had not turned at first, but his fixed attitude led her to look round, when she perceived that her employer was

the native of Trantridge from whom she had taken flight on the highroad because of his allusion to her

He waited till she had carried the drawn bundles to the pile outside, when he said, "So you be the young

woman who took my civility in such ill part? Be drowned if I didn't think you might be as soon as I heard of

your being hired! Well, you thought you had got the better of me the first time at the inn with your

fancyman, and the second time on the road, when you bolted; but now I think I've got the better you." He

Tess, between the Amazons and the farmer like a bird caught in a clapnet, returned no answer, continuing to

pull the straw. She could read character sufficiently well to know by this time that she had nothing to fear

from her employer's gallantry; it was rather the tyranny induced by his mortification at Clare's treatment of

him. Upon the whole she preferred that sentiment in man and felt brave enough to endure it.

"You thought I was in love with 'ee I suppose? Some women are such fools, to take every look as serious

earnest. But there's nothing like a winter afield for taking that nonsense out o' young wenches' heads; and

"Very wellas you like. But we'll see which is master here. Be they all the sheaves you've done today?"

"'Tis a very poor show. Just see what they've done over there" (pointing to the two stalwart women). "The

"They've all practised it before, and I have not. And I thought it made no difference to you as it is task work,

"I am going to work all the afternoon instead of leaving at two as the others will do."

He looked sullenly at her and went away. Tess felt that she could not have come to a much worse place; but

anything was better than gallantry. When two o'clock arrived the professional reeddrawers tossed off the last

halfpint in their flagon, put down their hooks, tied their last sheaves, and went away. Marian and Izz would

have done likewise, but on hearing that Tess meant to stay, to make up by longer hours for her lack of skill,

they would not leave her. Looking out at the snow, which still fell, Marian exclaimed, "Now, we've got it all

to ourselves." And so at last the conversation turned to their old experiences at the dairy; and, of course, the

"Izz and Marian," said Mrs Angel Clare, with a dignity which was extremely touching, seeing how very little

of a wife she was: "I can't join in talk with you now, as I used to do, about Mr Clare; you will see that I

cannot; because, although he is gone away from me for the present, he is my husband."

Izz was by nature the sauciest and most caustic of all the four girls who had loved Clare. "He was a very

splendid lover, no doubt," she said; "but I don't think he is a too fond husband to go away from you so soon."

"He had to gohe was obliged to go, to see about the land over there!" pleaded Tess.

"Ahthat's owing to an accidenta misunderstanding; and we won't argue it," Tess answered, with

tearfulness in her words. "Perhaps there's a good deal to be said for him! He did not go away, like some

After this they continued for some long time in a reverie, as they went on seizing the ears of corn, drawing

out the straw, gathering it under their arms, and cutting off the ears with their billhooks, nothing sounding in

the barn but the swish of the straw and the crunch of the hook. Then Tess suddenly flagged, and sank down

"I knew you wouldn't be able to stand it!" cried Marian. "It wants harder flesh than yours for this work."

Just then the farmer entered. "Oh, that's how you get on when I am away," he said to her.

"I want it finished," he said doggedly, as he crossed the barn and went out at the other door.

"Don't 'ee mind him, there's a dear," said Marian. "I've worked here before. Now you go and lie down there,

However, she was so overcome that she consented to lie down awhile, and reclined on a heap of

pulltailsthe refuse after the straight straw had been drawnthrown up at the further side of the barn. Her

succumbing had been as largely owning to agitation at the reopening the subject of her separation from her

husband as to the hard work. She lay in a state of percipience without volition, and the rustle of the straw and

She could hear from her corner, in addition to these noises, the murmur of their voices. She felt certain that

they were continuing the subject already broached, but their voices were so low that she could not catch the

words. At last Tess grew more and more anxious to know what they were saying, and, persuading herself that

Then Izz Huett broke down. She had walked more than a dozen miles the previous evening, had gone to bed

at midnight, and had risen again at five o'clock. Marian alone, thanks to her bottle of liquor and her stoutness

of build, stood the strain upon back and arms without suffering. Tess urged Izz to leave off, agreeing, as she

felt better, to finish the day without her, and make equal division of the number of sheaves.

Izz accepted the offer gratefully, and disappeared through the great door into the snowy track to her lodging.

Marian, as was the case every afternoon at this time on account of the bottle, began to feel in a romantic vein.

"I should not have thought it of himnever!" she said in a dreamy tone. "And I loved him so! I didn't mind

Tess, in her start at the words, narrowly missed cutting off a finger with the billhook.

"Well, yes. Izz said, 'Don't 'ee tell her'; but I am sure I can't help it! It was what he wanted Izz to do. He

Tess's face faded as white as the scene without, and its curves straightened. "And did Izz refuse to go?" she

They pulled on in silence till Tess, without any premonitory symptoms, burst out crying.

"No. It is a very good thing that you have done! I have been living on in a thirtover, lackaday way, and have

not seen what it may lead to! I ought to have sent him a letter oftener. He said I could not go to him, but he

didn't say I was not to write as often as I liked. I won't dally like this any longer! I have been very wrong and

The dim light in the barn grew dimmer, and they could see to work no longer. When Tess had reached home

that evening, and had entered into the privacy of her little whitewashed chamber, she began impetuously

writing a letter to Clare. But falling into doubt she could not finish it. Afterwards she took the ring from the

ribbon on which she wore it next her heart, and retained it on her finger all night, as if to fortify herself in the

sensation that she was really the wife of this elusive lover of hers, who could propose that Izz should go with

him abroad, so shortly after he had left her. Knowing that, how could she write entreaties to him, or show that

By the disclosure in the barn her thoughts were led anew in the direction which they had taken more than

once of lateto the distant Emminster Vicarage. It was through her husband's parents that she had been

charged to send a letter to Clare if she desired; and to write to them direct if in difficulty. But that sense of her

having morally no claim upon him had always led Tess to suspend her impulse to send these notes; and to the

family at the Vicarage, therefore, as to her own parents since her marriage, she was virtually nonexistent.

This selfeffacement in both directions had been quite in consonance with her independent character of

desiring nothing by way of favour or pity to which she was not entitled on a fair consideration of her deserts.

She had set herself to stand or fall by her qualities, and to waive such merely technical claims upon a strange

family as had been established for her by the flimsy fact of a member of that family, in a season of impulse,

But now that she was stung to a fever by Izz's tale there was a limit to her powers of renunciation. Why had

her husband not written to her? He had distinctly implied that he would at least let her know of the locality to

which he had journeyed; but he had not sent a line to notify his address. Was he really indifferent? But was

he ill? Was it for her to make some advance? Surely she might summon the courage of solicitude, call at the

Vicarage for intelligence, and express her grief at his silence. If Angel's father were the good man she had

heard him represented to be, he would be able to enter into her heartstarved situation. Her social hardships

To leave the farm on a weekday was not in her power; Sunday was the only possible opportunity.

FlintcombAsh being in the middle of the cretaceous tableland over which no railway had climbed as yet, it

would be necessary to walk. And the distance being fifteen miles each way she would have to allow herself a

A fortnight later, when the snow had gone, and had been followed by a hard black frost, she took advantage

of the state of the roads to try the experiment. At four o'clock that Sunday morning she came downstairs and

stepped out into the starlight. The weather was still favourable, the ground ringing under her feet like an

Marian and Izz were much interested in her excursion, knowing that the journey concerned her husband.

Their lodgings were in a cottage a little further along the lane, but they came and assisted Tess in her

departure, and argued that she should dress up in her very prettiest guise to captivate the hearts of her

parentsinlaw; though she, knowing of the austere and Calvinistic tenets of old Mr Clare, was indifferent,

and even doubtful. A year had now elapsed since her sad marriage, but she had preserved sufficient draperies

from the wreck of her then full wardrobe to clothe her very charmingly as a simple country girl with no

pretensions to recent fashion; a soft gray woollen gown, with white crape quilling against the pink skin of her

"'Tis a thousand pities your husband can't see 'ee nowyou do look a real beauty!" said Izz Huett, regarding

Tess as she stood on the threshold between the steely starlight without the yellow candlelight within. Izz

spoke with a magnanimous abandonment of herself to the situation; she could not beno woman with a

heart bigger than a hazelnut could beantagonistic to Tess in her presence, the influence which she

exercised over those of her own sex being of a warmth and strength quite unusual, curiously overpowering

With a final tug and touch here, and a slight brush there, they let her go; and she was absorbed into the pearly

air of the foredawn. They heard her footsteps tap along the hard road as she stepped out to her full pace.

Even Izz hoped she would win, and, though without any particular respect for her own virtue, felt glad that

It was a year ago, all but a day, that Clare had married Tess, and only a few days less than a year that he had

been absent from her. Still, to start on a brisk walk, and on such an errand as hers, on a dry clear wintry

morning, through the rarefied air of these chalky hogs'backs, was not depressing; and there is no doubt that

her dream at starting was to win the heart of her motherinlaw, tell her whole history to that lady, enlist her

In time she reached the edge of the vast escarpment below which stretched the loamy Vale of Blackmoor,

now lying misty and still in the dawn. Instead of the colourless air of the uplands the atmosphere down there

was a deep blue. Instead of the great enclosures of a hundred acres in which she was now accustomed to toil

there were little fields below her of less than halfadozen acres, so numerous that they looked from this

height like the meshes of a net. Here the landscape was whiteybrown; down there, as in Froom Valley, it

was always green. Yet is was in that vale that her sorrow had taken shape, and she did not love it as formerly.

Beauty to her, as to all who have felt, lay not in the thing, but in what the thing symbolized.

Keeping the Vale on her right she steered steadily westward; passing above the Hintocks, crossing at

rightangles the highroad from ShertonAbbas to Casterbridge, and skirting Dogbury Hill and HighStoy,

with the dell between them called "The Devil's Kitchen". Still following the elevated way she reached

CrossinHand, where the stone pillar stands desolate and silent, to mark the site of a miracle, or murder, or

both. Three miles further she cut across the straight and deserted Roman road called LongAsh Lane; leaving

which as soon as she reached it she dipped down a hill by a transverse lane into the small town or village of

Evershead, being now about halfway over the distance. She made a halt here, and breakfasted a second time,

heartily enoughnot at the SowandAcorn, for she avoided inns, but at a cottage by the church.

The second half of her journey was through a more gentle country, by way of Benvill Lane. But as the

mileage lessened between her and the spot of her pilgrimage, so did Tess's confidence decrease, and her

enterprise loom out more formidably. She saw her purpose in such staring lines, and the landscape so faintly,

that she was sometimes in danger of losing her way. However, about noon she paused by a gate on the edge

The square tower, beneath which she knew that at that moment the Vicar and his congregation were gathered,

had a severe look in her eyes. She wished that she had somehow contrived to come on a weekday. Such a

good man might be prejudiced against a woman who had chosen Sunday, never realizing the necessities of

her case. But it was incumbent upon her to go on now. She took off the thick boots in which she had walked

thus far, put on her pretty thin ones of patent leather, and, stuffing the former into the hedge by the gatepost

where she might readily find them again, descended the hill; the freshness of colour she had derived from the

Tess hoped for some accident that might favour her, but nothing favoured her. The scrubs on the Vicarage

lawn rustled uncomfortably in the frosty breeze; she could not feel by any stretch of imagination, dressed to

her highest as she was, that the house was the residence of near relations; and yet nothing essential, in nature

or emotion, divided her from them: in pains, pleasures, thoughts, birth, death, and afterdeath, they were the

She nerved herself by an effort, entered the swinggate, and rang the doorbell. The thing was done; there

could be no retreat. No; the thing was not done. Nobody answered to her ringing. The effort had be risen to

and made again. She rang a second time, and the agitation of the act, coupled with her weariness after the

fifteen miles' walk, led her support herself while she waited by resting her hand on her hip, and her elbow

against the wall of the porch. The wind was so nipping that the ivyleaves had become wizened and gray,

each tapping incessantly upon its neighbour with a disquieting stir of her nerves. A piece of bloodstained

paper, caught up from some meatbuyer's dustheap, beat up and down the road without the gate; too flimsy

The second peal had been louder, and still nobody came. Then she walked out of the porch, opened the gate,

and passed through. And though she looked dubiously at the housefront as if inclined to return, it was with a

breath of relied that she closed the gate. A feeling haunted her that she might have been recognized (though

Tess went as far as the corner. She had done all she could do; but determined not to escape present trepidation

at the expense of future distress, she walked back again quite past the house, looking up at all the windows.

Ahthe explanation was that they were all at church, every one. She remembered her husband saying that

his father always insisted upon the household, servants included, going to morningservice, and, as a

consequence, eating cold food when they came home. It was, therefore, only necessary to wait till the service

was over. She would not make herself conspicuous by waiting on the spot, and she started to get past the

church into the lane. But as she reached the churchyardgate the people began pouring out, and Tess found

The Emminster congregation looked at her as only a congregation of small countrytownsfolk walking home

at its leisure can look at a woman out of the common whom it perceives to be a stranger. She quickened her

pace, and ascended the the road by which she had come, to find a retreat between its hedges till the Vicar's

family should have lunched, and it might be convenient for them to receive her. She soon distanced the

churchgoers, except two youngish men, who, linked arminarm, were beating up behind her at a quick step.

As they drew nearer she could hear their voices engaged in earnest discourse, and, with the natural quickness

of a woman in her situation, did not fail to recognize in those noises the quality of her husband's tones. The

pedestrians were his two brothers. Forgetting all her plans, Tess's one dread was lest they should overtake her

now, in her disorganized condition, before she was prepared to confront them; for though she felt that they

could not identify her she instinctively dreaded their scrutiny. The more briskly they walked the more briskly

walked she. They were plainly bent upon taking a short quick stroll before going indoors to lunch or dinner,

Only one person had preceded Tess up the hilla ladylike young woman, somewhat interesting, though,

perhaps, a trifle GUINDEE and prudish. Tess had nearly overtaken her when the speed of her

brothersinlaw brought them so nearly behind her back that she could hear every word of their

conversation. They said nothing, however, which particularly interested her till, observing the young lady still

further in front, one of them remarked, "There is Mercy Chant. Let us overtake her."

Tess knew the name. It was the woman who had been destined for Angel's lifecompanion by his and her

parents, and whom he probably would have married but for her intrusive self. She would have know as much

without previous information if she had waited a moment, for one of the brothers proceeded to say: "Ah! poor

Angel, poor Angel! I never see that nice girl without more and more regretting his precipitancy in throwing

himself away upon a dairymaid, or whatever she may be. It is a queer business, apparently. Whether she has

joined him yet or not I don't know; but she had not done so some months ago when I heard from him."

"I can't say. He never tells me anything nowadays. His illconsidered marriage seems to have completed that

Tess beat up the long hill still faster; but she could not outwalk them without exciting notice. At last they

outsped her altogether, and passed her by. The young lady still further ahead heard their footsteps and turned.

Then there was a greeting and a shaking of hands, and the three went on together.

They soon reached the summit of the hill, and, evidently intending this point to be the limit of their

promenade, slackened pace and turned all three aside to the gate whereat Tess had paused an hour before that

time to reconnoitre the town before descending into it. During their discourse one of the clerical brothers

"Here's a pair of old boots," he said. "Thrown away, I suppose, by some tramp or other."

"Some imposter who wished to come into the town barefoot, perhaps, and so excite our sympathies," said

Miss Chant. "Yes, it must have been, for they are excellent walkingbootsby no means worn out. What a

Cuthbert Clare, who had been the one to find them, picked them up for her with the crook of his stick; and

She, who had heard this, walked past under the screen of her woollen veil, till, presently looking back, she

perceived that the church party had left the gate with her boots and retreated down the hill.

Thereupon our heroine resumed her walk. Tears, blinding tears, were running down her face. She knew that it

was all sentiment, all baseless impressibility, which had caused her to read the scene as her own

condemnation; nevertheless she could not get over it; she could not contravene in her own defenceless person

all those untoward omens. It was impossible to think of returning to the Vicarage. Angel's wife felt almost as

if she had been hounded up that hill like a scorned thing by thoseto hersuperfine clerics. Innocently as

the slight had been inflicted, it was somewhat unfortunate that she had encountered the sons and not the

father, who, despite his narrowness, was far less starched and ironed than they, and had to the full the gift of

charity. As she again though of her dusty boots she almost pitied those habiliments for the quizzing to which

"Ah!" she said, still sighing in pity of herself, "THEY didn't know that I wore those over the roughest part of

the road to save these pretty ones HE bought for menothey did not know it! And they didn't think that

HE chose the colour o' my pretty frocknohow could they? If they had known perhaps they would not

Then she grieved for the beloved man whose conventional standard of judgement had caused her all these

latter sorrows; and she went her way without knowing that the greatest misfortune of her life was this

feminine loss of courage at the last and critical moment through her estimating her fatherinlaw by his sons.

Her present condition was precisely one which would have enlisted the sympathies of old Mr and Mrs Clare.

Their hearts went out of them at a bound towards extreme cases, when the subtle mental troubles of the less

desperate among mankind failed to win their interest or regard. In jumping at Publicans and Sinners they

would forget that a word might be said for the worries of Scribes and Pharisees; and this defect or limitation

might have recommended their own daughterinlaw to them at this moment as a fairly choice sort of lost

Thereupon she began to plod back along the road by which she had come not altogether full of hope, but full

of a conviction that a crisis in her life was approaching. No crisis, apparently, had supervened; and there was

nothing left for her to do but to continue upon that starveacre farm till she could again summon courage to

face the Vicarage. She did, indeed, take sufficient interest in herself to throw up her veil on this return

journey, as if to let the world see that she could at least exhibit a face such as Mercy Chant could not show.

But it was done with a sorry shake of the head. "It is nothingit is nothing!" she said. "Nobody loves it;

Her journey back was rather a meander than a march. It had no sprightliness, no purpose; only a tendency.

Along the tedious length of Benvill Lane she began to grow tired, and she leant upon gates and paused by

She did not enter any house till, at the seventh or eighth mile, she descended the steep long hill below which

lay the village or townlet of Evershead, where in the morning she had breakfasted with such contrasting

expectations. The cottage by the church, in which she again sat down, was almost the first at that end of the

village, and while the woman fetched her some milk from the pantry, Tess, looking down the street,

"No, my dear," said the old woman. "'Tis too soon for that; the bells hain't strook out yet. They be all gone to

hear the preaching in yonder barn. A ranter preaches there between the servicesan excellent, fiery,

Christian man, they say. But, Lord, I don't go to hear'n! What comes in the regular way over the pulpit is hot

Tess soon went onward into the village, her footsteps echoing against the houses as though it were a place of

the dead. Nearing the central part her echoes were intruded on by other sounds; and seeing the barn not far off

His voice became so distinct in the still clear air that she could soon catch his sentences, though she was on

the closed side of the barn. The sermon, as might be expected, was of the extremest antinomian type; on

justification by faith, as expounded in the theology of St Paul. This fixed idea of the rhapsodist was delivered

with animated enthusiasm, in a manner entirely declamatory, for he had plainly no skill as a dialectician.

Although Tess had not heard the beginning of the address, she learnt what the text had been from its constant

Tess was all the more interested, as she stood listening behind, in finding that the preacher's doctrine was a

vehement form of the view of Angel's father, and her interest intensified when the speaker began to detail his

own spiritual experiences of how he had come by those views. He had, he said, been the greatest of sinners.

He had scoffed; he had wantonly associated with the reckless and the lewd. But a day of awakening had

come, and, in a human sense, it had been brought about mainly by the influence of a certain clergyman,

whom he had at first grossly insulted; but whose parting words had sunk into his heart, and had remained

there, till by the grace of Heaven they had worked this change in him, and made him what they saw him.

But more startling to Tess than the doctrine had been the voice, which, impossible as it seemed, was precisely

that of Alec d'Urberville. Her face fixed in painful suspense, she came round to the front of the barn, and

passed before it. The low winter sun beamed directly upon the great doubledoored entrance on this side; one

of the doors being open, so that the rays stretched far in over the threshingfloor to the preacher and his

audience, all snugly sheltered from the northern breeze. The listeners were entirely villagers, among them

being the man whom she had seen carrying the red paintpot on a former memorable occasion. But her

attention was given to the central figure, who stood upon some sacks of corn, facing the people and the door.

The three o'clock sun shone full upon him, and the strange enervating conviction that her seducer confronted

her, which had been gaining ground in Tess ever since she had heard his words distinctly, was at last

Till this moment she had never seen or heard from d'Urberville since her departure from Trantridge.

The rencounter came at a heavy moment, one of all moments calculated to permit its impact with the least

emotional shock. But such was unreasoning memory that, though he stood there openly and palpably a

converted man, who was sorrowing for his past irregularities, a fear overcame her, paralyzing her movement

To think of what emanated from that countenance when she saw it last, and to behold it now! ... There was

the same handsome unpleasantness of mien, but now he wore neatly trimmed, oldfashioned whiskers, the

sable moustache having disappeared; and his dress was halfclerical, a modification which had changed his

expression sufficiently to abstract the dandyism from his features, and to hinder for a second her belief in his

To Tess's sense there was, just at first, a ghastly BIZARRERIE, a grim incongruity, in the march of these

solemn words of Scripture out of such a mouth. This too familiar intonation, less than four years earlier, had

brought to her ears expressions of such divergent purpose that her heart became quite sick at the irony of the

It was less a reform than a transfiguration. The former curves of sensuousness were now modulated to lines

of devotional passion. The lipshapes that had meant seductiveness were now made to express supplication;

the glow on the cheek that yesterday could be translated as riotousness was evangelized today into the

splendour of pious rhetoric; animalism had become fanaticism; Paganism Paulinism; the bold rolling eye that

had flashed upon her form in the old time with such mastery now beamed with the rude energy of a theolatry

that was almost ferocious. Those black angularities which his face had used to put on when his wishes were

thwarted now did duty in picturing the incorrigible backslider who would insist upon turning again to his

The lineaments, as such, seemed to complain. They had been diverted from their hereditary connotation to

signify impressions for which Nature did not intend them. Strange that their very elevation was a

Yet could it be so? She would admit the ungenerous sentiment no longer. D'Urberville was not the first

wicked man who had turned away from his wickedness to save his soul alive, and why should she deem it

unnatural in him? It was but the usage of thought which had been jarred in her at hearing good new words in

bad old notes. The greater the sinner the greater the saint; it was not necessary to dive far into Christian

Such impressions as these moved her vaguely, and without strict definiteness. As soon as the nerveless pause

of her surprise would allow her to stir, her impulse was to pass on out of his sight. He had obviously not

But the moment that she moved again he recognized her. The effect upon her old lover was electric, far

stronger than the effect of his presence upon her. His fire, the tumultuous ring of his eloquence, seemed to go

out of him. His lip struggled and trembled under the words that lay upon it; but deliver them it could not as

long as she faced him. His eyes, after their first glance upon her face, hung confusedly in every other

direction but hers, but came back in a desperate leap every few seconds. This paralysis lasted, however, but a

short time; for Tess's energies returned with the atrophy of his, and she walked as fast as she was able past the

As soon as she could reflect it appalled her, this change in their relative platforms. He who had wrought her

undoing was now on the side of the Spirit, while she remained unregenerate. And, as in the legend, it had

resulted that her Cyprian image had suddenly appeared upon his alter, whereby the fire of the priest had been

She went on without turning her head. Her back seemed to be endowed with a sensitiveness to ocular

beamseven her clothingso alive was she to a fancied gaze which might be resting upon her from the

outside of that barn. All the way along to this point her heart had been heavy with an inactive sorrow; now

there was a change in the quality of its trouble. That hunger for affection too long withheld was for the time

displaced by an almost physical sense of an implacable past which still engirdled her. It intensified her

consciousness of error to a practical despair; the break of continuity between her earlier and present

existence, which she had hoped for, had not, after all, taken place. Bygones would never be complete

Thus absorbed she recrossed the northern part of LongAsh Lane at right angles, and presently saw before

her the road ascending whitely to the upland along whose margin the remainder of her journey lay. Its dry

pale surface stretched severely onward, unbroken by a single figure, vehicle, or mark, save some occasional

brown horsedroppings which dotted its cold aridity here and there. While slowly breasting this ascent Tess

became conscious of footsteps behind her, and turning she saw approaching that wellknown formso

strangely accoutred as the Methodistthe one personage in all the world she wished not to encounter alone

There was not much time, however, for thought or elusion, and she yielded as calmly as she could to the

necessity of letting him overtake her. She saw that he was excited, less by the speed of his walk than by the

"Wellis that all? Yet I deserve no more! Of course," he added, with a slight laugh, "there is something of

the ridiculous to your eyes in seeing me like this. ButI must put up with that. ... I heard you had gone

"Yesyou may well say it," he returned grimly, as they moved onward together, she with unwilling tread.

"But don't mistake me; I beg this because you may have been led to do so in noticingif you did notice

ithow your sudden appearance unnerved me down there. It was but a momentary faltering; and considering

what you have been to me, it was natural enough. But will helped me through itthough perhaps you think

me a humbug for saying itand immediately afterwards I felt that of all persons in the world whom it was

my duty and desire to save from the wrath to comesneer if you likethe woman whom I had so

grievously wronged was that person. I have come with that sole purpose in viewnothing more."

There was the smallest vein of scorn in her words of rejoinder: "Have you saved yourself? Charity begins at

"I have done nothing!" said he indifferently. "Heaven, as I have been telling my hearers, has done all. No

amount of contempt that you can pour upon me, Tess, will equal what I have poured upon myselfthe old

Adam of my former years! Well, it is a strange story; believe it or not; but I can tell you the means by which

my conversion was brought about, and I hope you will be interested enough at least to listen. Have you ever

heard the name of the parson of Emminsteryou must have done do?old Mr Clare; one of the most

earnest of his school; one of the few intense men left in the Church; not so intense as the extreme wind of

Christian believers with which I have thrown in my lot, but quite an exception among the Established clergy,

the younger of whom are gradually attenuating the true doctrines by their sophistries, till they are but the

shadow of what they were. I only differ from him on the question of Church and Statethe interpretation of

the text, 'Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord'that's all. He is one who, I firmly

believe, has been the humble means of saving more souls in this country than any other man you can name.

"He came to Trantridge two or three years ago to preach on behalf of some missionary society; and I,

wretched fellow that I was, insulted him when, in his disinterestedness, he tried to reason with me and show

me the way. He did not resent my conduct, he simply said that some day I should receive the firstfruits of

the Spiritthat those who came to scoff sometimes remained to pray. There was a strange magic in his

words. They sank into my mind. But the loss of my mother hit me most; and by degrees I was brought to see

daylight. Since then my one desire has been to hand on the true view to others, and that is what I was trying

to do today; though it is only lately that I have preached hereabout. The first months of my ministry have

been spent in the North of England among strangers, where I preferred to make my earliest clumsy attempts,

so as to acquire courage before undergoing that severest of all tests of one's sincerity, addressing those who

have known one, and have been one's companions in the days of darkness. If you could only know, Tess, the

"Don't go on with it!" she cried passionately, as she turned away from him to a stile by the wayside, on which

she bent herself. "I can't believe in such sudden things! I feel indignant with you for talking to me like this,

when you knowwhen you know what harm you've done me! You, and those like you, take your fill of

pleasure on earth by making the life of such as me bitter and black with sorrow; and then it is a fine thing,

when you have had enough of that, to think of securing your pleasure in heaven by becoming converted! Out

"Tess," he insisted; "don't speak so! It came to me like a jolly new idea! And you don't believe me? What

She dropped her voice. "Because a better man than you does not believe in such."

"Well," he declared, a resentment beneath his words seeming ready to spring out at a moment's notice, "God

forbid that I should say I am a good manand you know I don't say any such thing. I am new to goodness,

"Yes," she replied sadly. "But I cannot believe in your conversion to a new spirit. Such flashes as you feel,

Thus speaking she turned from the stile over which she had been leaning, and faced him; whereupon his eyes,

falling casually upon the familiar countenance and form, remained contemplating her. The inferior man was

Tess, who had been quite unconscious of her action and mien, instantly withdrew the large dark gaze of her

eyes, stammering with a flush, "I beg your pardon!" And there was revived in her the wretched sentiment

which had often come to her before, that in inhabiting the fleshly tabernacle with which Nature had endowed

"No, no! Don't beg my pardon. But since you wear a veil to hide your good looks, why don't you keep it

"It may seem harsh of me to dictate like this," he went on; "but it is better that I should not look too often on

"Well, women's faces have had too much power over me already for me not to fear them! An evangelist has

nothing to do with such as they; and it reminds me of the old times that I would forget!"

After this their conversation dwindled to a casual remark now and then as they rambled onward, Tess

inwardly wondering how far he was going with her, and not liking to send him back by positive mandate.

Frequently when they came to a gate or stile they found painted thereon in red or blue letters some text of

Scripture, and she asked him if he knew who had been at the pains to blazon these announcements. He told

her that the man was employed by himself and others who were working with him in that district, to paint

these reminders that no means might be left untried which might move the hearts of a wicked generation.

At length the road touched the spot called "CrossinHand." Of all spots on the bleached and desolate upland

this was the most forlorn. It was so far removed from the charm which is sought in landscape by artists and

viewlovers as to reach a new kind of beauty, a negative beauty of tragic tone. The place took its name from

a stone pillar which stood there, a strange rude monolith, from a stratum unknown in any local quarry, on

which was roughly carved a human hand. Differing accounts were given of its history and purport. Some

authorities stated that a devotional cross had once formed the complete erection thereon, of which the present

relic was but the stump; others that the stone as it stood was entire, and that it had been fixed there to mark a

boundary or place of meeting. Anyhow, whatever the origin of the relic, there was and is something sinister,

or solemn, according to mood, in the scene amid which it stands; something tending to impress the most

"I think I must leave you now," he remarked, as they drew near to this spot. "I have to preach at

Abbot'sCernel at six this evening, and my way lies across to the right from here. And you upset me

somewhat too, TessyI cannot, will not, say why. I must go away and get strength. ... How is it that you

D'Urberville was struck mute. "I knew nothing of this till now!" he next murmured. "Why didn't you write to

She did not reply; and he broke the silence by adding: "Wellyou will see me again."

"No," she answered. "Do not again come near me!" "I will think. But before we part come here." He stepped

up to the pillar. "This was once a Holy Cross. Relics are not in my creed; but I fear you at momentsfar

more than you need fear me at present; and to lessen my fear, put your hand upon that stone hand, and swear

"Good Godhow can you ask what is so unnecessary! All that is furthest from my thought!"

Tess, half frightened, gave way to his importunity; placed her hand upon the stone and swore.

"I am sorry you are not a believer," he continued; "that some unbeliever should have got hold of you and

unsettled your mind. But no more now. At home at least I can pray for you; and I will; and who knows what

He turned to a huntinggate in the hedge, and without letting his eyes again rest upon her leapt over, and

struck out across the down in the direction of Abbot'sCernel. As he walked his pace showed perturbation,

and byandby, as if instigated by a former thought, he drew from his pocket a small book, between the

leaves of which was folded a letter, worn and soiled, as from much rereading. D'Urberville opened the

letter. It was dated several months before this time, and was signed by Parson Clare.

The letter began by expressing the writer's unfeigned joy at d'Urberville's conversion, and thanked him for his

kindness in communicating with the parson on the subject. It expressed Mr Clare's warm assurance of

forgiveness for d'Urberville's former conduct, and his interest in the young man's plans for the future. He, Mr

Clare, would much have liked to see d'Urberville in the Church to whose ministry he had devoted so many

years of his own life, and would have helped him to enter a theological college to that end; but since his

correspondent had possibly not cared to do this on account of the delay it would have entailed, he was not the

man to insist upon its paramount importance. Every man must work as he could best work, and in the method

D'Urberville read and reread this letter, and seemed to quiz himself cynically. He also read some passages

from memoranda as he walked till his face assumed a calm, and apparently the image of Tess no longer

She meanwhile had kept along the edge of the hill by which lay her nearest way home. Within the distance of

"What is the meaning of that old stone I have passed?" she asked of him. "Was it ever a Holy Cross?"

"Crossno; 'twer not a cross! "Tis a thing of illomen, Miss. It was put up in wuld times by the relations of

a malefactor who was tortured there by nailing his hand to a post and afterwards hung. The bones lie

underneath. They say he sold his soul to the devil, and that he walks at times."

She felt the PETIT MORT at this unexpectedly gruesome information, and left the solitary man behind her. It

was dusk when she drew near to FlintcombAsh, and in the lane at the entrance to the hamlet she approached

a girl and her lover without their observing her. They were talking no secrets, and the clear unconcerned

voice of the young woman, in response to the warmer accents of the man, spread into the chilly air as the one

soothing thing within the dusky horizon, full of a stagnant obscurity upon which nothing else intruded. For a

moment the voices cheered the heart of Tess, till she reasoned that this interview had its origin, on one side or

the other, in the same attraction which had been the prelude to her own tribulation. When she came close the

girl turned serenely and recognized her, the young man walking off in embarrassment. The woman was Izz

Huett, whose interest in Tess's excursion immediately superseded her own proceedings. Tess did not explain

very clearly its results, and Izz, who was a girl of tact, began to speak of her own little affair, a phase of

"He is Amby Seedling, the chap who used to sometimes come and help at Talbothays," she explained

indifferently. "He actually inquired and found out that I had come here, and has followed me. He says he's

Several days had passed since her futile journey, and Tess was afield. The dry winter wind still blew, but a

screen of thatched hurdles erected in the eye of the blast kept its force away from her. On the sheltered side

was a turnipslicing machine, whose bright blue hue of new paint seemed almost vocal in the otherwise

subdued scene. Opposite its front was a long mound or "grave", in which the roots had been preserved since

early winter. Tess was standing at the uncovered end, chopping off with a billhook the fibres and earth from

each root, and throwing it after the operation into the slicer. A man was turning the handle of the machine,

and from its trough came the newlycut swedes, the fresh smell of whose yellow chips was accompanied by

the sounds of the snuffling wind, the smart swish of the slicingblades, and the choppings of the hook in

The wide acreage of blank agricultural brownness, apparent where the swedes had been pulled, was

beginning to be striped in wales of darker brown, gradually broadening to ribands. Along the edge of each of

these something crept upon ten legs, moving without haste and without rest up and down the whole length of

the field; it was two horses and a man, the plough going between them, turning up the cleared ground for a

For hours nothing relieved the joyless monotony of things. Then, far beyond the ploughingteams, a black

speck was seen. It had come from the corner of a fence, where there was a gap, and its tendency was up the

incline, towards the swedecutters. From the proportions of a mere point it advanced to the shape of a

ninepin, and was soon perceived to be a man in black, arriving from the direction of FlintcombAsh. The

man at the slicer, having nothing else to do with his eyes, continually observed the comer, but Tess, who was

occupied, did not perceived him till her companion directed her attention to his approach.

It was not her hard taskmaster, Farmer Groby; it was one in a semiclerical costume, who now represented

what had once been the freeandeasy Alec d'Urberville. Not being hot at his preaching there was less

enthusiasm about him now, and the presence of the grinder seemed to embarrass him. A pale distress was

He glanced round to see if he were overheard. They were at some distance from the man who turned the

slicer, and the movement of the machine, too, sufficiently prevented Alec's words reaching other ears.

D'Urberville placed himself so as to screen Tess from the labourer, turning his back to the latter.

"It is this," he continued, with capricious compunction. "In thinking of your soul and mine when we last met,

I neglected to inquire as to your worldly condition. You were well dressed, and I did not think of it. But I see

now that it is hardharder than it used to be when Iknew youharder than you deserve. Perhaps a good

She did not answer, and he watched her inquiringly, as, with bent head, her face completely screened by the

hood, she resumed her trimming of the swedes. By going on with her work she felt better able to keep him

"Tess," he added, with a sigh of discontent,"yours was the very worst case I ever was concerned in! I had

no idea of what had resulted till you told me. Scamp that I was to foul that innocent life! The whole blame

was minethe whole unconventional business of our time at Trantridge. You, too, the real blood of which I

am but the base imitation, what a blind young thing you were as to possibilities! I say in all earnestness that it

is a shame for parents to bring up their girls in such dangerous ignorance of the gins and nets that the wicked

may set for them, whether their motive be a good one or the result of simple indifference."

Tess still did no more than listen, throwing down one globular root and taking up another with automatic

"But it is not that I came to say," d'Urberville went on. "My circumstances are these. I have lost my mother

since you were at Trantridge, and the place is my own. But I intend to sell it, and devote myself to missionary

work in Africa. A devil of a poor hand I shall make at the trade, no doubt. However, what I want to ask you

is, will you put it in my power to do my dutyto make the only reparation I can make for the trick played

you: that is, will you be my wife, and go with me? ... I have already obtained this precious document. It was

He drew a piece of parchment from his pocket, with a slight fumbling of embarrassment.

And as he asked the question a disappointment which was not entirely the disappointment of thwarted duty

crossed d'Urberville's face. It was unmistakably a symptom that something of his old passion for her had been

"Surely," he began again, in more impetuous tones, and then looked round at the labourer who turned the

Tess, too, felt that the argument could not be ended there. Informing the man that a gentleman had come to

see her, with whom she wished to walk a little way, she moved off with d'Urberville across the zebrastriped

field. When they reached the first newlyploughed section he held out his hand to help her over it; but she

"You will not marry me, Tess, and make me a selfrespecting man?" he repeated, as soon as they were over

"But you would get to feel that in time, perhapsas soon as you really could forgive me?"

"You do?" he cried. "Somebody else? But has not a sense of what is morally right and proper any weight with

"Anyhow, then, your love for this other man may be only a passing feeling which you will overcome"

"I did not wish to tellI did not mean to!" she pleaded. "It is a secret here, or at any rate but dimly known.

So will you, PLEASE will you, keep from questioning me? You must remember that we are now strangers."

For a moment a flash of his old irony marked his face; but he determinedly chastened it down.

"Is that man your husband?" he asked mechanically, denoting by a sign the labourer who turned the machine.

"Do not ask what I do not wish to tell!" she begged, and flashed her appeal to him from her upturned face and

"But I only asked for your sake!" he retorted hotly. "Angels of heaven!God forgive me for such an

expressionI came here, I swear, as I thought for your good. Tessdon't look at me soI cannot stand

your looks! There never were such eyes, surely, before Christianity or since! ThereI won't lose my head; I

dare not. I own that the sight of you had waked up my love for you, which, I believed, was extinguished with

all such feelings. But I thought that our marriage might be a sanctification for us both. 'The unbelieving

husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband', I said to myself. But

"Married. Married! ... Well, that being so," he added, quite calmly, tearing the licence slowly into halves and

putting them in his pocket; "that being prevented, I should like to do some good to you and your husband,

whoever he may be. There are many questions that I am tempted to ask, but I will not do so, of course, in

opposition to your wishes. Though, if I could know your husband, I might more easily benefit him and you.

"He does not leave me to work!" she cried, springing to the defence of the absent one with all her fervour.

In an impulse he turned suddenly to take her hand; the buffglove was on it, and he seized only the rough

"You must notyou must not!" she cried fearfully, slipping her hand from the glove as from a pocket, and

leaving it in his grasp. "O, will you go awayfor the sake of me and my husbandgo, in the name of your

"Yes, yes; I will," he said abruptly, and thrusting the glove back to her he turned to leave. Facing round,

however, he said, "Tess, as God is my judge, I meant no humbug in taking your hand!"

A pattering of hoofs on the soil of the field, which they had not noticed in their preoccupation, ceased close

Farmer Groby had espied the two figures from the distance, and had inquisitively ridden across, to learn what

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

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

"If so be you make an agreement to work for me till LadyDay, I'll see that you carry it out," he growled.

"'Od rot the womennow '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

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 fearalmost a desperationas 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

After this her daily tasks were gone through heavily enough, and brought on the day which was of great

import to agriculturiststhe day of the Candlemas Fair. It was at this fair that new engagements were

entered into for the twelve months following the ensuing LadyDay, and those of the farming population

who thought of changing their places duly attended at the countytown where the fair was held. Nearly all

the labourers on FlintcombAsh farm intended flight, and early in the morning there was a general exodus in

the direction of the town, which lay at a distance of from ten to a dozen miles over hilly country. Though

Tess also meant to leave at the quarterday she was one of the few who did not go to the fair, having a

vaguelyshaped hope that something would happen to render another outdoor engagement unnecessary.

It was a peaceful February day, of wonderful softness for the time, and one would almost have thought that

winter was over. She had hardly finished her dinner when d'Urberville's figure darkened the window of the

Tess jumped up, but her visitor had knocked at the door, and she could hardly in reason run away.

D'Urberville's knock, his walk up to the door, had some indescribable quality of difference from his air when

she last saw him. They seemed to be acts of which the doer was ashamed. She thought that she would not

open the door; but, as there was no sense in that either, she arose, and having lifted the latch stepped back

quickly. He came in, saw her, and flung himself down into a chair before speaking.

"TessI couldn't help it!" he began desperately, as he wiped his heated face, which had also a superimposed

flush of excitement. "I felt that I must call at least to ask how you are. I assure you I had not been thinking of

you at all till I saw you that Sunday; now I cannot get rid of your image, try how I may! It is hard that a good

woman should do harm to a bad man; yet so it is. If you would only pray for me, Tess!"

The suppressed discontent of his manner was almost pitiable, and yet Tess did not pity him.

"How can I pray for you," she said, "when I am forbidden to believe that the great Power who moves the

"Ahyour husbandyour husband! How strange it seems! I remember you hinted something of the sort the

other day. What do you really believe in these matters, Tess?" he asked. "You seem to have no

"I believe in the SPIRIT of the Sermon on the Mount, and so did my dear husband....But I don't

"The fact is," said d'Urberville drily, "whatever your dear husband believed you accept, and whatever he

rejected you reject, without the least inquiry or reasoning on your own part. That's just like you women. Your

"Ah, because he knew everything!" said she, with a triumphant simplicity of faith in Angel Clare that the

"Yes, but you should not take negative opinions wholesale from another person like that. A pretty fellow he

"He never forced my judgement! He would never argue on the subject with me! But I looked at it in this way;

what he believed, after inquiring deep into doctrines, was much more likely to be right than what I might

She reflected; and with her acute memory for the letter of Angel Clare's remarks, even when she did not

comprehend their spirit, she recalled a merciless polemical syllogism that she had heard him use when, as it

occasionally happened, he indulged in a species of thinking aloud with her at his side. In delivering it she

"Say that again," asked d'Urberville, who had listened with the greatest attention.

She repeated the argument, and d'Urberville thoughtfully murmured the words after her.

"He said at another time something like this"; and she gave another, which might possibly have been

paralleled in many a work of the pedigree ranging from the DICTIONNAIRE PHILOSOPHIQUE to Huxley's

"I wanted to believe what he believed, though he didn't wish me to; and I managed to coax him to tell me a

few of his thoughts. I can't say I quite understand that one; but I know it is right."

He fell into thought. "And so I threw in my spiritual lot with his," she resumed. "I didn't wish it to be

"Wellyou are better off today that I am, Tess, after all! You don't believe that you ought to preach my

doctrine, and, therefore, do no despite to your conscience in abstaining. I do believe I ought to preach it, but

like the devils I believe and tremble, for I suddenly leave off preaching it, and give way to my passion for

"Why," he said aridly; "I have come all the way here to see you today! But I started from home to go to

Casterbridge Fair, where I have undertaken to preach the Word from a waggon at halfpast two this

afternoon, and where all the brethren are expecting me this minute. Here's the announcement."

He drew from his breastpocket a poster whereon was printed the day, hour, and place of meeting, at which

"I have arranged to preach, and I shall not be thereby reason of my burning desire to see a woman whom I

once despised!No, by my word and truth, I never despised you; if I had I should not love you now! Why I

did not despise you was on account of your being unsmirched in spite of all; you withdrew yourself from me

so quickly and resolutely when you saw the situation; you did not remain at my pleasure; so there was one

petticoat in the world for whom I had no contempt, and you are she. But you may well despise me now! I

thought I worshipped on the mountains, but I find I still serve in the groves! Ha! ha!"

"Done?" he said, with a soulless sneer in the word. "Nothing intentionally. But you have been the

meansthe innocent meansof my backsliding, as they call it. I ask myself, am I, indeed, one of those

'servants of corruption' who, 'after they have escaped the pollutions of the world, are again entangled therein

and overcome'whose latter end is worse than their beginning?" He laid his hand on her shoulder. "Tess, my

girl, I was on the way to, at least, social salvation till I saw you again!" he said freakishly shaking her, as if

she were a child. "And why then have you tempted me? I was firm as a man could be till I saw those eyes and

that mouth againsurely there never was such a maddening mouth since Eve's!" His voice sank, and a hot

archness shot from his own black eyes. "You temptress, Tess; you dear damned witch of BabylonI could

"I know itI repeat that I do not blame you. But the fact remains. When I saw you illused on the farm that

day I was nearly mad to think that I had no legal right to protect youthat I could not have it; whilst he who

"Don't speak against himhe is absent!" she cried in much excitement. "Treat him honourablyhe has

never wronged you! O leave his wife before any scandal spreads that may do harm to his honest name!"

"I willI will," he said, like a man awakening from a luring dream. "I have broken my engagement to preach

to those poor drunken boobies at the fairit is the first time I have played such a practical joke. A month ago

I should have been horrified at such a possibility. I'll go awayto swearandah, can I! to keep away."

"I am without defence. Alec! A good man's honour is in my keepingthinkbe ashamed!"

He clenched his lips, mortified with himself for his weakness. His eyes were equally barren of worldly and

religious faith. The corpses of those old fitful passions which had lain inanimate amid the lines of his face

ever since his reformation seemed to wake and come together as in a resurrection. He went out

Though d'Urberville had declared that this breach of his engagement today was the simple backsliding of a

believer, Tess's words, as echoed from Angel Clare, had made a deep impression upon him, and continued to

do so after he had left her. He moved on in silence, as if his energies were benumbed by the hitherto

undreamtof possibility that his position was untenable. Reason had had nothing to do with his whimsical

conversion, which was perhaps the mere freak of a careless man in search of a new sensation, and

The drops of logic Tess had let fall into the sea of his enthusiasm served to chill its effervescence to

stagnation. He said to himself, as he pondered again and again over the crystallized phrases that she had

handed on to him, "That clever fellow little thought that, by telling her those things, he might be paving my

It is the threshing of the last wheatrick at FlintcombAsh farm. The dawn of the March morning is

singularly inexpressive, and there is nothing to show where the eastern horizon lies. Against the twilight rises

the trapezoidal top of the stack, which has stood forlornly here through the washing and bleaching of the

When Izz Huett and Tess arrived at the scene of operations only a rustling denoted that others had preceded

them; to which, as the light increased, there were presently added the silhouettes of two men on the summit.

They were busily "unhaling" the rick, that is, stripping off the thatch before beginning to throw down the

sheaves; and while this was in progress Izz and Tess, with the other womenworkers, in their whiteybrown

pinners, stood waiting and shivering, Farmer Groby having insisted upon their being on the spot thus early to

get the job over if possible by the end of the day. Close under the eaves of the stack, and as yet barely visible,

was the red tyrant that the women had come to servea timberframed construction, with straps and wheels

appertainingthe threshingmachine which, whilst it was going, kept up a despotic demand upon the

endurance of their muscles and nerves. A little way off there was another indistinct figure; this one black,

with a sustained hiss that spoke of strength very much in reserve. The long chimney running up beside an

ashtree, and the warmth which radiated from the spot, explained without the necessity of much daylight that

here was the engine which was to act as the PRIMUM MOBILE of this little world. By the engine stood a

dark motionless being, a sooty and grimy embodiment of tallness, in a sort of trance, with a heap of coals by

his side: it was the engineman. The isolation of his manner and colour lent him the appearance of a creature

from Tophet, who had strayed into the pellucid smokelessness of this region of yellow grain and pale soil,

What he looked he felt. He was in the agricultural world, but not of it. He served fire and smoke; these

denizens of the fields served vegetation, weather, frost, and sun. He travelled with his engine from farm to

farm, from county to county, for as yet the steam threshingmachine was itinerant in this part of Wessex. He

spoke in a strange northern accent; his thoughts being turned inwards upon himself, his eye on his iron

charge, hardly perceiving the scenes around him, and caring for them not at all: holding only strictly

necessary intercourse with the natives, as if some ancient doom compelled him to wander here against his

will in the service of his Plutonic master. The long strap which ran from the drivingwheel of his engine to

the red thresher under the rick was the sole tieline between agriculture and him.

While they uncovered the sheaves he stood apathetic beside his portable repository of force, round whose hot

blackness the morning air quivered. He had nothing to do with preparatory labour. His fire was waiting

incandescent, his steam was at high pressure, in a few seconds he could make the long strap move at an

invisible velocity. Beyond its extent the environment might be corn, straw, or chaos; it was all the same to

him. If any of the autochthonous idlers asked him what he called himself, he replied shortly, "an engineer."

The rick was unhaled by full daylight; the men then took their places, the women mounted, and the work

began. Farmer Grobyor, as they called him, "he"had arrived ere this, and by his orders Tess was placed

on the platform of the machine, close to the man who fed it, her business being to untie every sheaf of corn

handed on to her by Izz Huett, who stood next, but on the rick; so that the feeder could seize it and spread it

over the revolving drum, which whisked out every grain in one moment. They were soon in full progress,

after a preparatory hitch or two, which rejoiced the hearts of those who hated machinery. The work sped on

till breakfast time, when the thresher was stopped for half an hour; and on starting again after the meal the

whole supplementary strength of the farm was thrown into the labour of constructing the strawrick, which

began to grow beside the stack of corn. A hasty lunch was eaten as they stood, without leaving their

positions, and then another couple of hours brought them near to dinnertime; the inexorable wheel

continuing to spin, and the penetrating hum of the thresher to thrill to the very marrow all who were near the

The old men on the rising strawrick talked of the past days when they had been accustomed to thresh with

flails on the oaken barndoor; when everything, even to winnowing, was effected by handlabour, which, to

their thinking, though slow, produced better results. Those, too, on the cornrick talked a little; but the

perspiring ones at the machine, including Tess, could not lighten their duties by the exchange of many words.

It was the ceaselessness of the work which tried her so severely, and began to make her wish that she had

never some to FlintcombAsh. The women on the cornrickMarian, who was one of them, in

particularcould stop to drink ale or cold tea from the flagon now and then, or to exchange a few gossiping

remarks while they wiped their faces or cleared the fragments of straw and husk from their clothing; but for

Tess there was no respite; for, as the drum never stopped, the man who fed it could not stop, and she, who

had to supply the man with untied sheaves, could not stop either, unless Marian changed places with her,

which she sometimes did for half an hour in spite of Groby's objections that she was too slowhanded for a

For some probably economical reason it was usually a woman who was chosen for this particular duty, and

Groby gave as his motive in selecting Tess that she was one of those who best combined strength with

quickness in untying, and both with staying power, and this may have been true. The hum of the thresher,

which prevented speech, increased to a raving whenever the supply of corn fell short of the regular quantity.

As Tess and the man who fed could never turn their heads she did not know that just before the dinnerhour a

person had come silently into the field by the gate, and had been standing under a second rick watching the

scene, and Tess in particular. He was dressed in a tweed suit of fashionable pattern, and he twirled a gay

"Who is that?" said Izz Huett to Marian. She had at first addressed the inquiry to Tess, but the latter could not

"O no. 'Tis a ranter pa'son who's been sniffing after her lately; not a dandy like this."

"He hev left off his black coat and white neckercher, and hev cut off his whiskers; but he's the same man for

"Well. I don't think it at all right for him to join his preaching to courting a married woman, even though her

"Ohhe can do her no harm," said Izz drily. "Her mind can no more be heaved from that one place where it

do bide than a stooded waggon from the hole he's in. Lord love 'ee, neither courtpaying, nor preaching, nor

the seven thunders themselves, can wean a woman when 'twould be better for her that she should be weaned."

Dinnertime came, and the whirling ceased; whereupon Tess left her post, her knees trembling so wretchedly

"You ought to het a quart o' drink into 'ee, as I've done," said Marian. "You wouldn't look so white then.

It occurred to the goodnatured Marian that, as Tess was so tired, her discovery of her visitor's presence

might have the bad effect of taking away her appetite; and Marian was thinking of inducing Tess to descend

by a ladder on the further side of the stack when the gentleman came forward and looked up.

Tess uttered a short little "Oh!" And a moment after she said, quickly, "I shall eat my dinner hereright on

Sometimes, when they were so far from their cottages, they all did this; but as there was rather a keen wind

going today, Marian and the rest descended, and sat under the strawstack. The newcomer was, indeed, Alec

d'Urberville, the late Evangelist, despite his changed attire and aspect. It was obvious at a glance that the

original WELTLUST had come back; that he had restored himself, as nearly as a man could do who had

grown three or four years older, to the old jaunty, slapdash guise under which Tess had first known her

admirer, and cousin socalled. Having decided to remain where she was, Tess sat down among the bundles,

out of sight of the ground, and began her meal; till, byandby, she heard footsteps on the ladder, and

immediately after Alec appeared upon the stacknow an oblong and level platform of sheaves. He strode

Tess continued to eat her modest dinner, a slice of thick pancake which she had brought with her. The other

workfolk were by this time all gathered under the rick, where the loose straw formed a comfortable retreat.

"Why do you trouble me so!" she cried, reproach flashing from her very fingerends.

"You say you don't? But you do! You haunt me. Those very eyes that you turned upon my with such a bitter

flash a moment ago, they come to me just as you showed them then, in the night and in the day! Tess, ever

since you told me of that child of ours, it is just as if my feelings, which have been flowing in a strong

puritanical stream, had suddenly found a way open in the direction of you, and had all at once gushed

through. The religious channel is left dry forthwith; and it is you who have done it!"

"Whatyou have given up your preaching entirely?" she asked. She had gathered from Angel sufficient of

the incredulity of modern thought to despise flash enthusiasm; but, as a woman, she was somewhat appalled.

"Entirely. I have broken every engagement since that afternoon I was to address the drunkards at

Casterbridge Fair. The deuce only knows what I am thought of by the brethren. Ahha! The brethren! No

doubt they pray for meweep for me; for they are kind people in their way. But what do I care? How could I

go on with the thing when I had lost my faith in it?it would have been hypocrisy of the basest kind!

Among them I should have stood like Hymenaeus and Alexander, who were delivered over to Satan that they

might learn not to blaspheme. What a grand revenge you have taken! I saw you innocent, and I deceived you.

Four years after, you find me a Christian enthusiast; you then work upon me, perhaps to my complete

perdition! But Tess, my coz, as I used to call you, this is only my way of talking, and you must not look so

horribly concerned. Of course you have done nothing except retain your pretty face and shapely figure. I saw

it on the rick before you saw methat tight pinaforething sets it off, and that wingbonnetyou

fieldgirls should never wear those bonnets if you wish to keep out of danger." He regarded her silently for a

few moments, and with a short cynical laugh resumed: "I believe that if the bachelorapostle, whose deputy I

thought I was, had been tempted by such a pretty face, he would have let go the plough for her sake as I do!"

Tess attempted to expostulate, but at this juncture all her fluency failed her, and without heeding he added:

"Well, this paradise that you supply is perhaps as good as any other, after all. But to speak seriously. Tess."

D'Urberville rose and came nearer, reclining sideways amid the sheaves, and resting upon his elbow. "Since I

last saw you, I have been thinking of what you said that HE said. I have come to the conclusion that there

does seem rather a want of commonsense in these threadbare old propositions; how I could have been so

fired by poor Parson Clare's enthusiasm, and have gone so madly to work, transcending even him, I cannot

make out! As for what you said last time, on the strength of your wonderful husband's intelligencewhose

name you have never told meabout having what they call an ethical system without any dogma, I don't see

"Why, you can have the religion of lovingkindness and purity at least, if you can't havewhat do you call

"O no! I'm a different sort of fellow from that! If there's nobody to say, 'Do this, and it will be a good thing

for you after you are dead; do that, and if will be a bad thing for you,' I can't warm up. Hang it, I am not going

to feel responsible for my deeds and passions if there's nobody to be responsible to; and if I were you, my

She tried to argue, and tell him that he had mixed in his dull brain two matters, theology and morals, which in

the primitive days of mankind had been quite distinct. But owing to Angel Clare's reticence, to her absolute

want of training, and to her being a vessel of emotions rather than reasons, she could not get on. "Well, never

"Not as thennever as then'tis different!" she entreated. "And there was never warmth with me! O why

didn't you keep your faith, if the loss of it has brought you to speak to me like this!"

"Because you've knocked it out of me; so the evil be upon your sweet head! Your husband little thought how

his teaching would recoil upon him! HahaI'm awfully glad you have made an apostate of me all the

same! Tess, I am more taken with you than ever, and I pity you too. For all your closeness, I see you are in a

She could not get her morsels of food down her throat; her lips were dry, and she was ready to choke. The

voices and laughs of the workfolk eating and drinking under the rick came to her as if they were a quarter of a

"It is cruelty to me!" she said. "Howhow can you treat me to this talk, if you care ever so little for me?"

"True, true," he said, wincing a little. "I did not come to reproach you for my deeds. I came Tess, to say that I

don't like you to be working like this, and I have come on purpose for you. You say you have a husband who

is not I. Well, perhaps you have; but I've never seen him, and you've not told me his name; and altogether he

seems rather a mythological personage. However, even if you have one, I think I am nearer to you than he is.

I, at any rate, try to help you out of trouble, but he does not, bless his invisible face! The words of the stern

prophet Hosea that I used to read come back to me. Don't you know them, Tess?'And she shall follow after

her lover, but she shall not overtake him; and she shall seek him, but shall not find him; then shall she say, I

will go and return to my first husband; for then was it better with me than now!' ... Tess, my trap is waiting

Her face had been rising to a dull crimson fire while he spoke; but she did not answer.

"You have been the cause of my backsliding," he continued, stretching his arm towards her waist; "you

One of her leather gloves, which she had taken off to eat her skimmercake, lay in her lap, and without the

slightest warning she passionately swung the glove by the gauntlet directly in his face. It was heavy and thick

as a warrior's, and it struck him flat on the mouth. Fancy might have regarded the act as the recrudescence of

a trick in which her armed progenitors were not unpractised. Alec fiercely started up from his reclining

position. A scarlet oozing appeared where her blow had alighted, and in a moment the blood began dropping

from his mouth upon the straw. But he soon controlled himself, calmly drew his handkerchief from his

She too had sprung up, but she sank down again. "Now, punish me!" she said, turning up her eyes to him with

the hopeless defiance of the sparrow's gaze before its captor twists its neck. "Whip me, crush me; you need

not mind those people under the rick! I shall not cry out. Once victim, always victimthat's the law!"

"O no, no, Tess," he said blandly. "I can make full allowance for this. Yet you most unjustly forget one thing,

that I would have married you if you had not put it out of my power to do so. Did I not ask you flatly to be

"And you cannot be. But remember one thing!" His voice hardened as his temper got the better of him with

the recollection of his sincerity in asking her and her present ingratitude, and he stepped across to her side

and held her by the shoulders, so that she shook under his grasp. "Remember, my lady, I was your master

"So much for our quarrel," he said, letting her go. "Now I shall leave you, and shall come again for your

She had not spoken again, remaining as if stunned. D'Urberville retreated over the sheaves, and descended

the ladder, while the workers below rose and stretched their arms, and shook down the beer they had drunk.

Then the threshingmachine started afresh; and amid the renewed rustle of the straw Tess resumed her

position by the buzzing drum as one in a dream, untying sheaf after sheaf in endless succession.

In the afternoon the farmer made it known that the rick was to be finished that night, since there was a moon

by which they could see to work, and the man with the engine was engaged for another farm on the morrow.

Hence the twanging and humming and rustling proceeded with even less intermission than usual.

It was not till "nammet"time, about three oclock, that Tess raised her eyes and gave a momentary glance

round. She felt but little surprise at seeing that Alec d'Urberville had come back, and was standing under the

hedge by the gate. He had seen her lift her eyes, and waved his hand urbanely to her, while he blew her a kiss.

It meant that their quarrel was over. Tess looked down again, and carefully abstained from gazing in that

Thus the afternoon dragged on. The wheatrick shrank lower, and the strawrick grew higher, and the

cornsacks were carted away. At six o'clock the wheatrick was about shoulderhigh from the ground. But

the unthreshed sheaves remaining untouched seemed countless still, notwithstanding the enormous numbers

that had been gulped down by the insatiable swallower, fed by the man and Tess, through whose two young

hands the greater part of them had passed. And the immense stack of straw where in the morning there had

been nothing, appeared as the FAECES of the same buzzing red glutton. From the west sky a wrathful

shineall that wild March could afford in the way of sunsethad burst forth after the cloudy day, flooding

the tired and sticky faces of the threshers, and dyeing them with a coppery light, as also the flapping garments

A panting ache ran through the rick. The man who fed was weary, and Tess could see that the red nape of his

neck was encrusted with dirt and husks. She still stood at her post, her flushed and perspiring face coated with

the corndust, and her white bonnet embrowned by it. She was the only woman whose place was upon the

machine so as to be shaken bodily by its spinning, and the decrease of the stack now separated her from

Marian and Izz, and prevented their changing duties with her as they had done. The incessant quivering, in

which every fibre of her frame participated, had thrown her into a stupefied reverie in which her arms worked

on independently of her consciousness. She hardly knew where she was, and did not hear Izz Huett tell her

By degrees the freshest among them began to grow cadaverous and saucereyed. Whenever Tess lifted her

head she beheld always the great upgrown strawstack, with the men in shirtsleeves upon it, against the

gray north sky; in front of it the long red elevator like a Jacob's ladder, on which a perpetual stream of

threshed straw ascended, a yellow river running uphill, and spouting out on the top of the rick.

She knew that Alec d'Urberville was still on the scene, observing her from some point or other, though she

could not say where. There was an excuse for his remaining, for when the threshed rick drew near its final

sheaves a little ratting was always done, and men unconnected with the threshing sometimes dropped in for

that performancesporting characters of all descriptions, gents with terriers and facetious pipes, roughs with

But there was another hour's work before the layer of live rats at the base of the stack would be reached; and

as the evening light in the direction of the Giant's Hill by Abbot'sCernel dissolved away, the whitefaced

moon of the season arose from the horizon that lay towards Middleton Abbey and Shottsford on the other

side. For the last hour or two Marian had felt uneasy about Tess, whom she could not get near enough to

speak to, the other women having kept up their strength by drinking ale, and Tess having done without it

through traditionary dread, owing to its results at her home in childhood. But Tess still kept going: if she

could not fill her part she would have to leave; and this contingency, which she would have regarded with

equanimity and even with relief a month or two earlier, had become a terror since d'Urberville had begun to

The sheafpitchers and feeders had now worked the rick so low that people on the ground could talk to them.

To Tess's surprise Farmer Groby came up on the machine to her, and said that if she desired to join her friend

he did not wish her to keep on any longer, and would send somebody else to take her place. The "friend" was

d'Urberville, she knew, and also that this concession had been granted in obedience to the request of that

The time for the ratcatching arrived at last, and the hunt began. The creatures had crept downwards with the

subsidence of the rick till they were all together at the bottom, and being now uncovered from their last

refuge they ran across the open ground in all directions, a loud shriek from the bythistime halftipsy

Marian informing her companions that one of the rats had invaded her persona terror which the rest of the

women had guarded against by various schemes of skirttucking and selfelevation. The rat was at last

dislodged, and, amid the barking of dogs, masculine shouts, feminine screams, oaths, stampings, and

confusion as of Pandemonium, Tess untied her last sheaf; the drum slowed, the whizzing ceased, and she

"Whatafter allmy insulting slap, too!" said she in an underbreath. She was so utterly exhausted that she

"I should indeed be foolish to feel offended at anything you say or do," he answered, in the seductive voice of

the Trantridge time. "How the little limbs tremble! You are as weak as a bled calf, you know you are; and yet

you need have done nothing since I arrived. How could you be so obstinate? However, I have told the farmer

that he has no right to employ women at steamthreshing. It is not proper work for them; and on all the better

class of farms it has been given up, as he knows very well. I will walk with you as far as your home."

"O yes," she answered with a jaded gait. "Walk wi' me if you will! I do bear in mind that you came to marry

me before you knew o' my state. Perhapsperhaps you are a little better and kinder than I have been

thinking you were. Whatever is meant by kindness I am grateful for; whatever is meant in any other way I am

"If I cannot legitimize our former relations at least I can assist you. And I will do it with much more regard

for your feelings than I formerly showed. My religious mania, or whatever it was, is over. But I retain a little

good nature; I hope I do. Now, Tess, by all that's tender and strong between man and woman, trust me! I have

enough and more than enough to put you out of anxiety, both for yourself and your parents and sisters. I can

"Yes. They didn't know where you were. It was only by chance that I found you here."

The cold moon looked aslant upon Tess's fagged face between the twigs of the gardenhedge as she paused

outside the cottage which was her temporary home, d'Urberville pausing beside her.

"Don't mention my little brothers and sistersdon't make me break down quite!" she said. "If you want to

help themGod knows they need itdo it without telling me. But no, no!" she cried. "I will take nothing

He did not accompany her further, since, as she lived with the household, all was public indoors. No sooner

had she herself entered, laved herself in a washingtub, and shared supper with the family than she fell into

thought, and withdrawing to the table under the wall, by the light of her own little lamp wrote in a passionate

MY OWN HUSBAND,Let me call you soI musteven if it makes you angry to think of such an

unworthy wife as I. I must cry to you in my troubleI have no one else! I am so exposed to temptation,

Angel. I fear to say who it is, and I do not like to write about it at all. But I cling to you in a way you cannot

think! Can you not come to me now, at once, before anything terrible happens? O, I know you cannot,

because you are so far away! I think I must die if you do not come soon, or tell me to come to you. The

punishment you have measured out to me is deservedI do know thatwell deservedand you are right

and just to be angry with me. But, Angel, please, please, not to be justonly a little kind to me, even if I do

not deserve it, and come to me! If you would come, I could die in your arms! I would be well content to do

Angel, I live entirely for you. I love you too much to blame you for going away, and I know it was necessary

you should find a farm. Do not think I shall say a word of sting or bitterness. Only come back to me. I am

desolate without you, my darling, O, so desolate! I do not mind having to work: but if you will send me one

little line, and say, "I AM COMING SOON," I will bide on, AngelO, so cheerfully!

It has been so much my religion ever since we were married to be faithful to you in every thought and look,

that even when a man speaks a compliment to me before I am aware, it seems wronging you. Have you never

felt one little bit of what you used to feel when we were at the dairy? If you have, how can you keep away

from me? I am the same women, Angel, as you fell in love with; yes, the very same!not the one you

disliked but never saw. What was the past to me as soon as I met you? It was a dead thing altogether. I

became another woman, filled full of new life from you. How could I be the early one? Why do you not see

this? Dear, if you would only be a little more conceited, and believe in yourself so far as to see that you were

strong enough to work this change in me, you would perhaps be in a mind to come to me, your poor wife.

How silly I was in my happiness when I thought I could trust you always to love me! I ought to have known

that such as that was not for poor me. But I am sick at heart, not only for old times, but for the present.

Thinkthink how it do hurt my heart not to see you everever! Ah, if I could only make your dear heart

ache one little minute of each day as mine does every day and all day long, it might lead you to show pity to

People still say that I am rather pretty, Angel (handsome is the word they use, since I wish to be truthful).

Perhaps I am what they say. But I do not value my good looks; I only like to have them because they belong

to you, my dear, and that there may be at least one thing about me worth your having. So much have I felt

this, that when I met with annoyance on account of the same I tied up my face in a bandage as long as people

would believe in it. O Angel, I tell you all this not from vanityyou will certainly know I do notbut only

If you really cannot come to me will you let me come to you? I am, as I say, worried, pressed to do what I

will not do. It cannot be that I shall yield one inch, yet I am in terror as to what an accident might lead to, and

I so defenceless on account of my first error. I cannot say more about thisit makes me too miserable. But if

I break down by falling into some fearful snare, my last state will be worse than my first. O God, I cannot

I would be content, ay, glad, to live with you as your servant, if I may not as your wife; so that I could only

The daylight has nothing to show me, since you are not here, and I don't like to see the rooks and starlings in

the field, because I grieve and grieve to miss you who used to see them with me. I long for only one thing in

heaven or earth or under the earth, to meet you, my own dear! Come to mecome to me, and save me from

The appeal duly found its way to the breakfasttable of the quiet Vicarage to the westward, in that valley

where the air is so soft and the soil so rich that the effort of growth requires but superficial aid by comparison

with the tillage at FlintcombAsh, and where to Tess the human world seemed so different (though it was

much the same). It was purely for security that she had been requested by Angel to send her communications

through his father, whom he kept pretty well informed of his changing addresses in the country he had gone

"Now," said old Mr Clare to his wife, when he had read the envelope, "if Angel proposes leaving Rio for a

visit home at the end of next month, as he told us that he hoped to do, I think this may hasten his plans; for I

believe it to be from his wife." He breathed deeply at the thought of her; and the letter was redirected to be

"Dear fellow, I hope he will get home safely," murmured Mrs Clare. "To my dying day I shall feel that he had

been illused. You should have sent him to Cambridge in spite of his want of faith, and given him the same

chance as the other boys had. He would have grown out of it under proper influence, and perhaps would have

This was the only wail with which Mrs Clare ever disturbed her husband's peace in respect to their sons. And

she did not vent this often; for she was as considerate as she was devout, and knew that his mind too was

troubled by doubts as to his justice in this matter. Only too often had she heard him lying awake at night,

stifling sighs for Angel with prayers. But the uncompromising Evangelical did not even now hold that he

would have been justified in giving his son, an unbeliever, the same academic advantages that he had given to

the two others, when it was possible, if not probable, that those very advantages might have been used to

decry the doctrines which he had made it his life's mission and desire to propagate, and the mission of his

ordained sons likewise. To put with one hand a pedestal under the feet of the two faithful ones, and with the

other to exalt the unfaithful by the same artificial means, he deemed to be alike inconsistent with his

convictions, his position, and his hopes. Nevertheless, he loved his misnamed Angel, and in secret mourned

over this treatment of him as Abraham might have mourned over the doomed Isaac while they went up the

hill together. His silent selfgenerated regrets were far bitterer than the reproaches which his wife rendered

They blamed themselves for this unlucky marriage. If Angel had never been destined for a farmer he would

never have been thrown with agricultural girls. They did not distinctly know what had separated him and his

wife, nor the date on which the separation had taken place. At first they had supposed it must be something of

the nature of a serious aversion. But in his later letters he occasionally alluded to the intention of coming

home to fetch her; from which expressions they hoped the division might not owe its origin to anything so

hopelessly permanent as that. He had told them that she was with her relatives, and in their doubts they had

The eyes for which Tess's letter was intended were gazing at this time on a limitless expanse of country from

the back of a mule which was bearing him from the interior of the SouthAmerican Continent towards the

coast. His experiences of this strange land had been sad. The severe illness from which he had suffered

shortly after his arrival had never wholly left him, and he had by degrees almost decided to relinquish his

hope of farming here, though, as long as the bare possibility existed of his remaining, he kept this change of

The crowds of agricultural labourers who had come out to the country in his wake, dazzled by representations

of easy independence, had suffered, died, and wasted away. He would see mothers from English farms

trudging along with their infants in their arms, when the child would be stricken with fever and would die; the

mother would pause to dig a hole in the loose earth with her bare hands, would bury the babe therein with the

Angel's original intention had not been emigration to Brazil but a northern or eastern farm in his own country.

He had come to this place in a fit of desperation, the Brazil movement among the English agriculturists

During this time of absence he had mentally aged a dozen years. What arrested him now as of value in life

was less its beauty than its pathos. Having long discredited the old systems of mysticism, he now began to

discredit the old appraisements of morality. He thought they wanted readjusting. Who was the moral man?

Still more pertinently, who was the moral woman? The beauty or ugliness of a character lay not only in its

achievements, but in its aims and impulses; its true history lay, not among things done, but among things

Viewing her in these lights, a regret for his hasty judgement began to oppress him. Did he reject her eternally,

or did he not? He could no longer say that he would always reject her, and not to say that was in spirit to

This growing fondness for her memory coincided in point of time with her residence at FlintcombAsh, but it

was before she had felt herself at liberty to trouble him with a word about her circumstances or her feelings.

He was greatly perplexed; and in his perplexity as to her motives in withholding intelligence he did not

inquire. Thus her silence of docility was misinterpreted. How much it really said if he had understood!that

she adhered with literal exactness to orders which he had given and forgotten; that despite her natural

fearlessness she asserted no rights, admitted his judgement to be in every respect the true one, and bent her

In the beforementioned journey by mules through the interior of the country, another man rode beside him.

Angel's companion was also an Englishman, bent on the same errand, though he came from another part of

the island. They were both in a state of mental depression, and they spoke of home affairs. Confidence begat

confidence. With that curious tendency evinced by men, more especially when in distant lands, to entrust to

strangers details of their lives which they would on no account mention to friends, Angel admitted to this

man as they rode along the sorrowful facts of his marriage. The stranger had sojourned in many more lands

and among many more peoples than Angel; to his cosmopolitan mind such deviations from the social norm,

so immense to domesticity, were no more than are the irregularities of vale and mountainchain to the whole

terrestrial curve. He viewed the matter in quite a different light from Angel; thought that what Tess had been

was of no importance beside what she would be, and plainly told Clare that he was wrong in coming away

The next day they were drenched in a thunderstorm. Angel's companion was struck down with fever, and

died by the week's end. Clare waited a few hours to bury him, and then went on his way.

The cursory remarks of the largeminded stranger, of whom he knew absolutely nothing beyond a

commonplace name, were sublimed by his death, and influenced Clare more than all the reasoned ethics of

the philosophers. His own parochialism made him ashamed by its contrast. His inconsistencies rushed upon

him in a flood. He had persistently elevated Hellenic Paganism at the expense of Christianity; yet in that

civilization an illegal surrender was not certain disesteem. Surely then he might have regarded that

abhorrence of the unintact state, which he had inherited with the creed of mysticism, as at least open to

correction when the result was due to treachery. A remorse struck into him. The words of Izz Huett, never

quite stilled in his memory, came back to him. He had asked Izz if she loved him, and she had replied in the

affirmative. Did she love him more than Tess did? No, she had replied; Tess would lay down her life for him,

He thought of Tess as she had appeared on the day of the wedding. How her eyes had lingered upon him;

how she had hung upon his words as if they were a god's! And during the terrible evening over the hearth,

when her simple soul uncovered itself to his, how pitiful her face had looked by the rays of the fire, in her

Thus from being her critic he grew to be her advocate. Cynical things he had uttered to himself about her; but

no man can be always a cynic and live; and he withdrew them. The mistake of expressing them had arisen

from his allowing himself to be influenced by general principles to the disregard of the particular instance.

But the reasoning is somewhat musty; lovers and husbands have gone over the ground before today. Clare

had been harsh towards her; there is no doubt of it. Men are too often harsh with women they love or have

loved; women with men. And yet these harshnesses are tenderness itself when compared with the universal

harshness out of which they grow; the harshness of the position towards the temperament, of the means

The historic interest of her familythat masterful line of d'Urbervilleswhom he had despised as a spent

force, touched his sentiments now. Why had he not known the difference between the political value and the

imaginative value of these things? In the latter aspect her d'Urberville descent was a fact of great dimensions;

worthless to economics, it was a most useful ingredient to the dreamer, to the moralizer on declines and falls.

It was a fact that would soon be forgottenthat bit of distinction in poor Tess's blood and name, and

oblivion would fall upon her hereditary link with the marble monuments and leaded skeletons at Kingsbere.

So does Time ruthlessly destroy his own romances. In recalling her face again and again, he thought now that

he could see therein a flash of the dignity which must have graced her granddames; and the vision sent that

AURA through his veins which he had formerly felt, and which left behind it a sense of sickness.

Despite her not inviolate past, what still abode in such a woman as Tess outvalued the freshness of her

fellows. Was not the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abiezer?

So spoke love renascent, preparing the way for Tess's devoted outpouring, which was then just being

forwarded to him by his father; though owing to his distance inland it was to be a long time in reaching him.

Meanwhile the writer's expectation that Angel would come in response to the entreaty was alternately great

and small. What lessened it was that the facts of her life which had led to the parting had not changedcould

never change; and that, if her presence had not attenuated them, her absence could not. Nevertheless she

addressed her mind to the tender question of what she could do to please him best if he should arrive. Sighs

were expended on the wish that she had taken more notice of the tunes he played on his harp, that she had

inquired more curiously of him which were his favourite ballads among those the country girls sang. She

indirectly inquired of Amby Seedling, who had followed Izz from Talbothays, and by chance Amby

remembered that, amongst the snatches of melody in which they had indulged at the dairyman's, to induce the

cows to let down their milk, Clare had seemed to like "Cupid's Gardens", "I have parks, I have hounds", and

"The break o' the day"; and had seemed not to care for "The Tailor's Breeches" and "Such a beauty I did

To perfect the ballads was now her whimsical desire. She practised them privately at odd moments,

Arise, arise, arise! And pick your love a posy, All o' the sweetest flowers That in the garden grow. The turtle

doves and sma' birds In every bough abuilding, So early in the Maytime At the break o' the day!

It would have melted the heart of a stone to hear her singing these ditties, whenever she worked apart from

the rest of the girls in this cold dry time; the tears running down her cheeks all the while at the thought that

perhaps he would not, after all, come to hear her, and the simple silly words of the songs resounding in

Tess was so wrapt up in this fanciful dream that she seemed not to know how the season was advancing; that

the days had lengthened, that LadyDay was at hand, and would soon be followed by Old LadyDay, the end

But before the quarterday had quite come something happened which made Tess think of far different

matters. She was at her lodging as usual one evening, sitting in the downstairs room with the rest of the

family, when somebody knocked at the door and inquired for Tess. Through the doorway she saw against the

declining light a figure with the height of a woman and the breadth of a child, a tall, thin, girlish creature

"Whatis it 'LizaLu?" asked Tess, in startled accents. Her sister, whom a little over a year ago she had left

at home as a child, had sprung up by a sudden shoot to a form of this presentation, of which as yet Lu seemed

herself scarce able to understand the meaning. Her thin legs, visible below her once long frock now short by

her growing, and her uncomfortable hands and arms, revealed her youth and inexperience.

"Yes, I have been traipsing about all day, Tess," said Lu, with unemotional gravity, "atrying to find 'ee; and

"Mother is took very bad, and the doctor says she's dying, and as father is not very well neither, and says 'tis

wrong for a man of such a high family as his to slave and drave at common labouring work, we don't know

Tess stood in reverie a long time before she thought of asking 'LizaLu to come in and sit down. When she

had done so, and 'LizaLu was having some tea, she came to a decision. It was imperative that she should go

home. Her agreement did not end till Old LadyDay, the sixth of April, but as the interval thereto was not a

To go that night would be a gain of twelvehours; but her sister was too tired to undertake such a distance till

the morrow. Tess ran down to where Marian and Izz lived, informed them of what had happened, and begged

them to make the best of her case to the farmer. Returning, she got Lu a supper, and after that, having tucked

the younger into her own bed, packed up as many of her belongings as would go into a withy basket, and

She plunged into the chilly equinoctial darkness as the clock struck ten, for her fifteen miles' walk under the

steely stars. In lone districts night is a protection rather than a danger to a noiseless pedestrian, and knowing

this Tess pursued the nearest course along bylanes that she would almost have feared in the daytime; but

marauders were wanting now, and spectral fears were driven out of her mind by thoughts of her mother. Thus

she proceeded mile after mile, ascending and descending till she came to Bulbarrow, and about midnight

looked from that height into the abyss of chaotic shade which was all that revealed itself of the vale on whose

further side she was born. Having already traversed about five miles on the upland she had now some ten or

eleven in the lowland before her journey would be finished. The winding road downwards became just visible

to her under the wan starlight as she followed it, and soon she paced a soil so contrasting with that above it

that the difference was perceptible to the tread and to the smell. It was the heavy clay land of Blackmoor

Vale, and a part of the Vale to which turnpikeroads had never penetrated. Superstitions linger longest on

these heavy soils. Having once been forest, at this shadowy time it seemed to assert something of its old

character, the far and the near being blended, and every tree and tall hedge making the most of its presence.

The harts that had been hunted here, the witches that had been pricked and ducked, the greenspangled

fairies that "whickered" at you as you passed;the place teemed with beliefs in them still, and they formed

At Nuttlebury she passed the village inn, whose sign creaked in response to the greeting of her footsteps,

which not a human soul heard but herself. Under the thatched roofs her mind's eye beheld relaxed tendons

and flaccid muscles, spread out in the darkness beneath coverlets made of little purple patchwork squares,

and undergoing a bracing process at the hands of sleep for renewed labour on the morrow, as soon as a hint of

At three she turned the last corner of the maze of lanes she had threaded, and entered Marlott, passing the

field in which as a clubgirl, she had first seen Angel Clare, when he had not danced with her; the sense of

disappointment remained with her yet. In the direction of her mother's house she saw a light. It came from the

bedroom window, and a branch waved in front of it and made it wink at her. As soon as she could discern the

outline of the housenewly thatched with her moneyit had all its old effect upon Tess's imagination. Part

of her body and life it ever seemed to be; the slope of its dormers, the finish of its gables, the broken courses

of brick which topped the chimney, all had something in common with her personal character. A stupefaction

had come into these features, to her regard; it meant the illness of her mother.

She opened the door so softly as to disturb nobody; the lower room was vacant, but the neighbour who was

sitting up with her mother came to the top of the stairs, and whispered that Mrs Durbeyfield was no better,

though she was sleeping just then. Tess prepared herself a breakfast, and then took her place as nurse in her

In the morning, when she contemplated the children, they had all a curiously elongated look; although she

had been away little more than a year their growth was astounding; and the necessity of applying herself heart

Her father's illhealth was the same indefinite kind, and he sat in his chair as usual. But the day after her

arrival he was unusually bright. He had a rational scheme for living, and Tess asked him what it was.

"I'm thinking of sending round to all the old antiqueerians in this part of England," he said, "asking them to

subscribe to a fund to maintain me. I'm sure they'd see it as a romantical, artistical, and proper thing to do.

They spend lots o' money in keeping up old ruins, and finding the bones o' things, and such like; and living

remains must be more interesting to 'em still, if they only knowed of me. Would that somebody would go

round and tell 'em what there is living among 'em, and they thinking nothing of him! If Pa'son Tringham, who

Tess postponed her arguments on this high project till she had grappled with pressing matters in hand, which

seemed little improved by her remittances. When indoor necessities had been eased she turned her attention

to external things. It was now the season for planting and sowing; many gardens and allotments of the

villagers had already received their spring tillage; but the garden and the allotment of the Durbeyfields were

behindhand. She found, to her dismay, that this was owing to their having eaten all the seed

potatoes,that last lapse of the improvident. At the earliest moment she obtained what others she could

procure, and in a few days her father was well enough to see to the garden, under Tess's persuasive efforts:

while she herself undertook the allotmentplot which they rented in a field a couple of hundred yards out of

She liked doing it after the confinement of the sick chamber, where she was not now required by reason of

her mother's improvement. Violent motion relieved thought. The plot of ground was in a high, dry, open

enclosure, where there were forty or fifty such pieces, and where labour was at its briskest when the hired

labour of the day had ended. Digging began usually at six o'clock, and extended indefinitely into the dusk or

moonlight. Just now heaps of dead weeds and refuse were burning on many of the plots, the dry weather

One fine day Tess and 'LizaLu worked on here with their neighbours till the last rays of the sun smote flat

upon the white pegs that divided the plots. As soon as twilight succeeded to sunset the flare of the

couchgrass and cabbagestalk fires began to light up the allotments fitfully, their outlines appearing and

disappearing under the dense smoke as wafted by the wind. When a fire glowed, banks of smoke, blown level

along the ground, would themselves become illuminated to an opaque lustre, screening the workpeople from

one another; and meaning of the "pillar of a cloud", which was a wall by day and a light by night, could be

As evening thickened some of the gardening men and women gave over for the night, but the greater number

remained to get their planting done, Tess being among them, though she sent her sister home. It was on one

of the couchburning plots that she laboured with her fork, its four shining prongs resounding against the

stones and dry clods in little clicks. Sometimes she was completely involved in the smoke of her fire; then it

would leave her figure free, irradiated by the brassy glare from the heap. She was oddly dressed tonight, and

presented a somewhat staring aspect, her attire being a gown bleached by many washings, with a short black

jacket over it, the effect of the whole being that of a wedding and funeral guest in one. The women further

back wore white aprons, which, with their pale faces, were all that could be seen of them in the gloom, except

Westward, the wiry boughs of the bare thorn hedge which formed the boundary of the field rose against the

pale opalescence of the lower sky. Above, Jupiter hung like a fullblown jonquil, so bright as almost to throw

a shade. A few small nondescript stars were appearing elsewhere. In the distance a dog barked, and wheels

Still the prongs continued to click assiduously, for it was not late; and though the air was fresh and keen there

was a whisper of spring in it that cheered the workers on. Something in the place, the hours, the crackling

fires, the fantastic mysteries of light and shade, made others as well as Tess enjoy being there. Nightfall,

which in the frost of winter comes as a fiend and in the warmth of summer as a lover, came as a tranquillizer

Nobody looked at his or her companions. The eyes of all were on the soil as its turned surface was revealed

by the fires. Hence as Tess stirred the clods and sang her foolish little songs with scarce now a hope that

Clare would ever hear them, she did not for a long time notice the person who worked nearest to hera man

in a long smockfrock who, she found, was forking the same plot as herself, and whom she supposed her

father had sent there to advance the work. She became more conscious of him when the direction of his

digging brought him closer. Sometimes the smoke divided them; then it swerved, and the two were visible to

Tess did not speak to her fellowworker, nor did he speak to her. Nor did she think of him further than to

recollect that he had not been there when it was broad daylight, and that she did not know him as any one of

the Marlott labourers, which was no wonder, her absences having been so long and frequent of late years.

Byandby he dug so close to her that the firebeams were reflected as distinctly from the steel prongs of his

fork as from her own. On going up to the fire to throw a pitch of dead weeds upon it, she found that he did the

same on the other side. The fire flared up, and she beheld the face of d'Urberville.

The unexpectedness of his presence, the grotesqueness of his appearance in a gathered smockfrock, such as

was now worn only by the most oldfashioned of the labourers, had a ghastly comicality that chilled her as to

"If I were inclined to joke I should say, How much this seems like Paradise!" he remarked whimsically,

"A jester might say this is just like Paradise. You are Eve, and I am the old Other One come to tempt you in

the disguise of an inferior animal. I used to be quite up in that scene of Milton's when I was theological.

"Empress, the way is ready, and not long, Beyond a row of myrtles.... ... If thou accept My conduct, I can

And so on. My dear Tess, I am only putting this to you as a thing that you might have supposed or said quite

"I never said you were Satan, or thought it. I don't think of you in that way at all. My thoughts of you are

quite cold, except when you affront me. What, did you come digging here entirely because of me?"

"Entirely. To see you; nothing more. The smockfrock, which I saw hanging for sale as I came along, was an

afterthought, that I mightn't be noticed. I come to protest against your working like this."

"It is quite truein the sense you mean. But you have a friend, and I have determined that you shall be

comfortable in suite of yourself. When you get down to your house you will see what I have sent there for

"O, Alec, I wish you wouldn't give me anything at all! I cannot take it from you! I don't likeit is not right!"

"It IS right!" he cried lightly. "I am not going to see a woman whom I feel so tenderly for as I do for you, in

"But I am very well off! I am only in trouble aboutaboutnot about living at all!"

She turned, and desperately resumed her digging, tears dripping upon the forkhandle and upon the clods.

"About the childrenyour brothers and sisters," he resumed. "I've been thinking of them."

Tess's heart quiveredhe was touching her in a weak place. He had divined her chief anxiety. Since

returning home her soul had gone out to those children with an affection that was passionate.

"If your mother does not recover, somebody ought to do something for them; since your father will not be

"No, sir!" "How damned foolish this is!" burst out d'Urberville. "Why, he thinks we are the same family; and

D'Urberville in anger retreated from her to the hedge, where he pulled off the long smockfrock which had

Tess could not get on with her digging after this; she felt restless; she wondered if he had gone back to her

"O, Tessywhat do you think! 'LizaLu is acrying, and there's a lot of folk in the house, and mother is a

The child realized the grandeur of the news; but not as yet its sadness; and stood looking at Tess with

"He dropped down just now, and the doctor who was there for mother said there was no chance for him,

Yes; the Durbeyfield couple had changed places; the dying one was out of danger, and the indisposed one

was dead. The news meant even more than it sounded. Her father's life had a value apart from his personal

achievements, or perhaps it would not have had much. It was the last of the three lives for whose duration the

house and premises were held under a lease; and it had long been coveted by the tenantfarmer for his

regular labourers, who were stinted in cottage accommodation. Moreover, "liviers" were disapproved of in

villages almost as much as little freeholders, because of their independence of manner, and when a lease

Thus the Durbeyfields, once d'Urbervilles, saw descending upon them the destiny which, no doubt, when

they were among the Olympians of the county, they had caused to descend many a time, and severely

enough, upon the heads of such landless ones as they themselves were not. So do flux and refluxthe

At length it was the eve of Old LadyDay, and the agricultural world was in a fever of mobility such as only

occurs at that particular date of the year. It is a day of fulfilment; agreements for outdoor service during the

ensuing year, entered into at Candlemas, are to be now carried out. The labourersor "workfolk", as they

used to call themselves immemorially till the other word was introduced from withoutwho wish to remain

These annual migrations from farm to farm were on the increase here. When Tess's mother was a child the

majority of the fieldfolk about Marlott had remained all their lives on one farm, which had been the home

also of their fathers and grandfathers; but latterly the desire for yearly removal had risen to a high pitch. With

the younger families it was a pleasant excitement which might possibly be an advantage. The Egypt of one

family was the Land of Promise to the family who saw it from a distance, till by residence there it became it

However, all the mutations so increasingly discernible in village life did not originate entirely in the

agricultural unrest. A depopulation was also going on. The village had formerly contained, side by side with

the argicultural labourers, an interesting and betterinformed class, ranking distinctly above the formerthe

class to which Tess's father and mother had belongedand including the carpenter, the smith, the

shoemaker, the huckster, together with nondescript workers other than farmlabourers; a set of people who

owed a certain stability of aim and conduct to the fact of their being lifeholders like Tess's father, or

copyholders, or occasionally, small freeholders. But as the long holdings fell in they were seldom again let to

similar tenants, and were mostly pulled down, if not absolutely required by the farmer for his hands.

Cottagers who were not directly employed on the land were looked upon with disfavour, and the banishment

of some starved the trade of others, who were thus obliged to follow. These families, who had formed the

backbone of the village life in the past who were the depositaries of the village traditions, had to seek refuge

in the large centres; the process, humorously designated by statisticians as "the tendency of the rural

population towards the large towns", being really the tendency of water to flow uphill when forced by

The cottage accommodation at Marlott having been in this manner considerably curtailed by demolitions,

every house which remained standing was required by the agriculturist for his workpeople. Ever since the

occurrence of the event which had cast such a shadow over Tess's life, the Durbeyfield family (whose descent

was not credited) had been tacitly looked on as one which would have to go when their lease ended, if only in

the interests of morality. It was, indeed, quite true that the household had not been shining examples either of

temperance, soberness, or chastity. The father, and even the mother, had got drunk at times, the younger

children seldom had gone to church, and the eldest daughter had made queer unions. By some means the

village had to be kept pure. So on this, the first LadyDay on which the Durbeyfields were expellable, the

house, being roomy, was required for a carter with a large family; and Widow Joan, her daughters Tess and

On the evening preceding their removal it was getting dark betimes by reason of a drizzling rain which

blurred the sky. As it was the last night they would spend in the village which had been their home and

birthplace, Mrs Durbeyfield, 'LizaLu, and Abraham had gone out to bid some friends goodbye, and Tess

She was kneeling in the windowbench, her face close to the casement, where an outer pane of rainwater

was sliding down the inner pane of glass. Her eyes rested on the web of a spider, probably starved long ago,

which had been mistakenly placed in a corner where no flies ever came, and shivered in the slight draught

through the casement. Tess was reflecting on the position of the household, in which she perceived her own

evil influence. Had she not come home her mother and the children might probably have been allowed to stay

on as weekly tenants. But she had been observed almost immediately on her return by some people of

scrupulous character and great influence: they had seen her idling in the churchyard, restoring as well as she

could with a little trowel a baby's obliterated grave. By this means they had found that she was living here

again; her mother was scolded for "harbouring" her; sharp retorts had ensued from Joan, who had

independently offered to leave at once; she had been taken at her word; and here was the result.

She was so intent upon these thoughts that she hardly at first took note of a man in a white mackintosh whom

she saw riding down the street. Possibly it was owing to her face being near to the pane that he saw her so

quickly, and directed his horse so close to the cottagefront that his hoofs were almost upon the narrow

border for plants growing under the wall. It was not till he touched the window with his ridingcrop that she

observed him. The rain had nearly ceased, and she opened the casement in obedience to his gesture.

"I was not attending," she said. "I heard you, I believe, though I fancied it was a carriage and horses. I was in

"Ah! you heard the d'Urberville Coach, perhaps. You know the legend, I suppose?"

"If you are a genuine d'Urberville I ought not to tell you either, I suppose. As for me, I'm a sham one, so it

doesn't matter. It is rather dismal. It is that this sound of a nonexistent coach can only be heard by one of

d'Urberville blood, and it is held to be of illomen to the one who hears it. It has to do with a murder,

"Very well. One of the family is said to have abducted some beautiful woman, who tried to escape from the

coach in which he was carrying her off, and in the struggle he killed heror she killed himI forget which.

Such is one version of the tale.... I see that your tubs and buckets are packed. Going away, aren't you?"

"Father's was the last life on the property, and when that dropped we had no further right to stay. Though we

"What a blasted shame! Miserable snobs! May their dirty souls be burnt to cinders!" he exclaimed in tones of

"We are not turned out exactly; but as they said we should have to go soon, it was best to go now everybody

"Kingsbere. We have taken rooms there. Mother is so foolish about father's people that she will go there."

"But your mother's family are not fit for lodgings, and in a little hole of a town like that. Now why not come

to my gardenhouse at Trantridge? There are hardly any poultry now, since my mother's death; but there's the

house, as you know it, and the garden. It can be whitewashed in a day, and your mother can live there quite

comfortably; and I will put the children to a good school. Really I ought to do something for you!"

"But we have already taken the rooms at Kingsbere!" she declared. "And we can wait there"

"Waitwhat for? For that nice husband, no doubt. Now look here, Tess, I know what men are, and, bearing

in mind the GROUNDS of your separation, I am quite positive he will never make it up with you. Now,

though I have been your enemy, I am your friend, even if you won't believe it. Come to this cottage of mine.

We'll get up a regular colony of fowls, and your mother can attend to them excellently; and the children can

"How do I know that you would do all this? Your views may changeand thenwe should bemy mother

"O nono. I would guarantee you against such as that in writing, if necessary. Think it over.

Tess shook her head. But d'Urberville persisted; she had seldom seen him so determined; he would not take a

"Please just tell your mother," he said, in emphatic tones. "It is her business to judgenot yours. I shall get

the house swept out and whitened tomorrow morning, and fires lit; and it will be dry by the evening, so that

Tess again shook her head; her throat swelling with complicated emotion. She could not look up at

"I owe you something for the past, you know," he resumed. "And you cured me, too, of that craze; so I am

"I would rather you had kept the craze, so that you had kept the practice which went with it!"

"I am glad of this opportunity of repaying you a little. Tomorrow I shall expect to hear your mother's goods

With the last sentence he had dropped his voice to a murmur, and put his hand in at the halfopen casement.

With stormy eyes she pulled the staybar quickly, and, in doing so, caught his arm between the casement and

"Damnationyou are very cruel!" he said, snatching out his arm. "No, no!I know you didn't do it on

"IF you ask for it. But you won't, Tess; I know you; you'll never ask for ityou'll starve first!"

With these words he rode off. Just at the corner of the street he met the man with the paintpot, who asked

Tess remained where she was a long while, till a sudden rebellious sense of injustice caused the region of her

eyes to swell with the rush of hot tears thither. Her husband, Angel Clare himself, had, like others, dealt out

hard measure to her, surely he had! She had never before admitted such a thought; but he had surely! Never

in her lifeshe could swear it from the bottom of her soulhad she ever intended to do wrong; yet these

hard judgements had come. Whatever her sins, they were not sins of intention, but of inadvertence, and why

She passionately seized the first piece of paper that came to hand, and scribbled the following lines:

O why have you treated me so monstrously, Angel! I do not deserve it. I have thought it all over carefully,

and I can never, never forgive you! You know that I did not intend to wrong youwhy have you so wronged

me? You are cruel, cruel indeed! I will try to forget you. It is all injustice I have received at your hands! T

She watched till the postman passed by, ran out to him with her epistle, and then again took her listless place

It was just as well to write like that as to write tenderly. How could he give way to entreaty? The facts had

It grew darker, the firelight shining over the room. The two biggest of the younger children had gone out

with their mother; the four smallest, their ages ranging from threeandahalf years to eleven, all in black

frocks, were gathered round the hearth babbling their own little subjects. Tess at length joined them, without

"This is the last night that we shall sleep here, dears, in the house where we were born," she said quickly.

They all became silent; with the impressibility of their age they were ready to burst into tears at the picture of

finality she had conjured up, though all the day hitherto they had been rejoicing in the idea of a new place.

There was a momentary pause; it was broken, first, by one little tentative note; then a second voice

strengthened it, and a third and a fourth chimed in in unison, with words they had learnt at the

Here we suffer grief and pain, Here we meet to part again; In Heaven we part no more.

The four sang on with the phlegmatic passivity of persons who had long ago settled the question, and there

being no mistake about it, felt that further thought was not required. With features strained hard to enunciate

the syllables they continued to regard the centre of the flickering fire, the notes of the youngest straying over

Tess turned from them, and went to the window again. Darkness had now fallen without, but she put her face

to the pane as though to peer into the gloom. It was really to hide her tears. If she could only believe what the

children were singing; if she were only sure, how different all would now be; how confidently she would

leave them to Providence and their future kingdom! But, in default of that, it behoved her to do something; to

be their Providence; for to Tess, as to not a few millions of others, there was ghastly satire in the poet's

To her and her like, birth itself was an ordeal of degrading personal compulsion, whose gratuitousness

In the shades of the wet road she soon discerned her mother with tall 'LizaLu and Abraham. Mrs

"I see the tracks of a horse outside the window," said Joan. "Hev somebody called?"

"I will tell you when we are settled in our lodging at Kingsbere tomorrowevery word."

It was not her husband, she had said. Yet a consciousness that in a physical sense this man alone was her

During the small hours of the next morning, while it was still dark, dwellers near the highways were

conscious of a disturbance of their night's rest by rumbling noises, intermittently continuing till

daylightnoises as certain to recur in this particular first week of the month as the voice of the cuckoo in the

third week of the same. They were the preliminaries of the general removal, the passing of the empty

waggons and teams to fetch the goods of the migrating families; for it was always by the vehicle of the

farmer who required his services that the hired man was conveyed to his destination. That this might be

accomplished within the day was the explanation of the reverberation occurring so soon after midnight, the

aim of the carters being to reach the door of the outgoing households by six o'clock, when the loading of their

But to Tess and her mother's household no such anxious farmer sent his team. They were only women; they

were not regular labourers; they were not particularly required anywhere; hence they had to hire a waggon at

It was a relief to Tess, when she looked out of the window that morning, to find that though the weather was

windy and louring, it did not rain, and that the waggon had come. A wet LadyDay was a spectre which

removing families never forgot; damp furniture, damp bedding, damp clothing accompanied it, and left a

Her mother, 'LizaLu, and Abraham were also awake, but the younger children were let sleep on. The four

It proceeded with some cheerfulness, a friendly neighbour or two assisting. When the large articles of

furniture had been packed in position a circular nest was made of the beds and bedding, in which Joan

Durbeyfield and the young children were to sit through the journey. After loading there was a long delay

before the horses were brought, these having been unharnessed during the ridding; but at length, about two

o'clock, the whole was under way, the cookingpot swinging from the axle of the waggon, Mrs Durbeyfield

and family at the top, the matron having in her lap, to prevent injury to its works, the head of the clock,

which, at any exceptional lurch of the waggon, struck one, or oneandahalf, in hurt tones. Tess and the

They had called on a few neighbours that morning and the previous evening, and some came to see them off,

all wishing them well, though, in their secret hearts, hardly expecting welfare possible to such a family,

harmless as the Durbeyfields were to all except themselves. Soon the equipage began to ascend to higher

The day being the sixth of April, the Durbeyfield waggon met many other waggons with families on the

summit of the load, which was built on a wellnigh unvarying principle, as peculiar, probably, to the rural

labourer as the hexagon to the bee. The groundwork of the arrangement was the family dresser, which, with

its shining handles, and fingermarks, and domestic evidences thick upon it, stood importantly in front, over

the tails of the shafthorses, in its erect and natural position, like some Ark of the Covenant that they were

Some of the households were lively, some mournful; some were stopping at the doors of wayside inns;

where, in due time, the Durbeyfield menagerie also drew up to bait horses and refresh the travellers.

During the halt Tess's eyes fell upon a threepint blue mug, which was ascending and descending through the

air to and from the feminine section of a household, sitting on the summit of a load that had also drawn up at

a little distance from the same inn. She followed one of the mug's journeys upward, and perceived it to be

"Marian and Izz!" she cried to the girls, for it was they, sitting with the moving family at whose house they

They were, they said. It had been too rough a life for them at FlintcombAsh, and they had come away,

almost without notice, leaving Groby to prosecute them if he chose. They told Tess their destination, and

Marian leant over the load, and lowered her voice. "Do you know that the gentleman who follows 'eeyou'll

guess who I meancame to ask for 'ee at Flintcomb after you had gone? We didn't tell'n where you was,

She bade her acquaintance goodbyefor the respective carters had now come out from the innand the two

waggons resumed their journey in opposite directions; the vehicle whereon sat Marian, Izz, and the

ploughman's family with whom they had thrown in their lot, being brightly painted, and drawn by three

powerful horses with shining brass ornaments on their harness; while the waggon on which Mrs Durbeyfield

and her family rode was a creaking erection that would scarcely bear the weight of the superincumbent load;

one which had known no paint since it was made, and drawn by two horses only. The contrast well marked

the difference between being fetched by a thriving farmer and conveying oneself whither no hirer waited

The distance was greattoo great for a day's journeyand it was with the utmost difficulty that the horses

performed it. Though they had started so early it was quite late in the afternoon when they turned the flank of

an eminence which formed part of the upland called Greenhill. While the horses stood to stale and breathe

themselves Tess looked around. Under the hill, and just ahead of them, was the halfdead townlet of their

pilgrimage, Kingsbere, where lay those ancestors of whom her father had spoken and sung to painfulness:

Kingsbere, the spot of all spots in the world which could be considered the d'Urbervilles' home, since they

had resided there for full five hundred years. A man could be seen advancing from the outskirts towards

"You be the woman they call Mrs Durbeyfield, I reckon?" he said to Tess's mother, who had descended to

She nodded. "Though widow of the late Sir John d'Urberville, poor nobleman, if I cared for my rights; and

"Oh? Well, I know nothing about that; but if you be Mrs Durbeyfield, I am sent to tell 'ee that the rooms you

wanted be let. We didn't know that you was coming till we got your letter this morningwhen 'twas too late.

The man had noticed the face of Tess, which had become ashpale at his intelligence. Her mother looked

hopelessly at fault. "What shall we do now, Tess?" she said bitterly. "Here's a welcome to your ancestors'

They moved on into the town, and tried with all their might, Tess remaining with the waggon to take care of

the children whilst her mother and 'LizaLu made inquiries. At the last return of Joan to the vehicle, an hour

later, when her search for accommodation had still been fruitless, the driver of the waggon said the goods

must be unloaded, as the horses were halfdead, and he was bound to return part of the way at least that

The waggon had drawn up under the churchyard wall, in a spot screened from view, and the driver, nothing

loth, soon hauled down the poor heap of household goods. This done she paid him, reducing herself to almost

her last shilling thereby, and he moved off and left them, only too glad to get out of further dealings with

such a family. It was a dry night, and he guessed that they would come to no harm.

Tess gazed desperately at the pile of furniture. The cold sunlight of this spring evening peered invidiously

upon the crocks and kettles, upon the bunches of dried herbs shivering in the breeze, upon the brass handles

of the dresser, upon the wickercradle they had all been rocked in, and upon the wellrubbed clockcase, all

of which gave out the reproachful gleam of indoor articles abandoned to the vicissitudes of a roofless

exposure for which they were never made. Round about were deparked hills and slopesnow cut up into

little paddocksand the green foundations that showed where the d'Urberville mansion once had stood; also

an outlying stretch of Egdon Heath that had always belonged to the estate. Hard by, the aisle of the church

"Isn't your family vault your own freehold?" said Tess's mother, as she returned from a reconnoitre of the

church and graveyard. "Why, of course 'tis, and that's where we will camp, girls, till the place of your

ancestors finds us a roof! Now, Tess and 'Liza and Abraham, you help me. We'll make a nest for these

Tess listlessly lent a hand, and in a quarter of an hour the old fourpost bedstead was dissociated from the

heap of goods, and erected under the south wall of the church, the part of the building know as the

d'Urberville Aisle, beneath which the huge vaults lay. Over the tester of the bedstead was a beautiful traceried

window, of many lights, its date being the fifteenth century. It was called the d'Urberville Window, and in the

upper part could be discerned heraldic emblems like those on Durbeyfield's old seal and spoon.

Joan drew the curtains round the bed so as to make an excellent tent of it, and put the smaller children inside.

"If it comes to the worst we can sleep there too, for one night," she said. "But let us try further on, and get

something for the dears to eat! O, Tess, what's the use of your playing at marrying gentlemen, if it leaves us

Accompanied by 'LizaLu and the boy she again ascended the little lane which secluded the church from the

townlet. As soon as they got into the street they beheld a man on horseback gazing up and down. "Ah I'm

looking for you!" he said, riding up to them. "This is indeed a family gathering on the historic spot!"

Personally Joan had no liking for Alec. She cursorily signified the direction of the church, and went on,

d'Urberville saying that he would see them again, in case they should be still unsuccessful in their search for

shelter, of which he had just heard. When they had gone d'Urberville rode to the inn, and shortly after came

In the interim Tess, left with the children inside the bedstead, remained talking with them awhile, till, seeing

that no more could be done to make them comfortable just then, she walked about the churchyard, now

beginning to be embrowned by the shades of nightfall. The door of the church was unfastened, and she

Within the window under which the bedstead stood were the tombs of the family, covering in their dates

several centuries. They were canopied, altershaped, and plain; their carvings being defaced and broken;

their brasses torn from the matrices, the rivetholes remaining like martinholes in a sandcliff. Of all the

reminders that she had ever received that her people were socially extinct there was none so forcible as this

Tess did not read ChurchLatin like a Cardinal, but she knew that this was the door of her ancestral

sepulchre, and that the tall knights of whom her father had chanted in his cups lay inside.

She musingly turned to withdraw, passing near an altertomb, the oldest of them all, on which was a

recumbent figure. In the dusk she had not noticed it before, and would hardly have noticed it now but for an

odd fancy that the effigy moved. As soon as she drew close to it she discovered all in a moment that the

figure was a living person; and the shock to her sense of not having been alone was so violent that she was

quite overcome, and sank down nigh to fainting, not, however, till she had recognized Alec d'Urberville in

"I saw you come in," he said smiling, "and got up there not to interrupt your meditations. A family gathering,

He stamped with his heel heavily on the floor; whereupon there arose a hollow echo from below.

"That shook them a bit, I'll warrant!" he continued. "And you thought I was the mere stone reproduction of

one of them. But no. The old order changeth. The little finger of the sham d'Urberville can do more for you

than the whole dynasty of the real underneath.... Now command me. What shall I do?"

"I willI'll look for your mother," said he blandly. But in passing her he whispered: "Mind this; you'll be

In the meantime Marian and Izz Huett had journeyed onward with the chattels of the ploughman in the

direction of their land of Canaanthe Egypt of some other family who had left it only that morning. But the

girls did not for a long time think of where they were going. Their talk was of Angel Clare and Tess, and

Tess's persistent lover, whose connection with her previous history they had partly heard and partly guessed

"'Tisn't as though she had never known him afore," said Marian. "His having won her once makes all the

difference in the world. 'Twould be a thousand pities if he were to tole her away again. Mr Clare can never be

anything to us, Izz; and why should we grudge him to her, and not try to mend this quarrel? If he could on'y

know what straits she's put to, and what's hovering round, he might come to take care of his own."

They thought of this all the way to their destination; but the bustle of reestablishment in their new place

took up all their attention then. But when they were settled, a month later, they heard of Clare's approaching

return, though they had learnt nothing more of Tess. Upon that, agitated anew by their attachment to him, yet

honourably disposed to her, Marian uncorked the penny inkbottle they shared, and a few lines were

HONOUR'D SIRLook to your Wife if you do love her as much as she do love you. For she is sore put to

by an Enemy in the shape of a Friend. Sir, there is one near her who ought to be Away. A woman should not

be try'd beyond her Strength, and continual dropping will wear away a Stoneay, morea Diamond.

This was addressed to Angel Clare at the only place they had ever heard him to be connected with,

Emminster Vicarage; after which they continued in a mood of emotional exaltation at their own generosity,

It was evening at Emminster Vicarage. The two customary candles were burning under their green shades in

the Vicar's study, but he had not been sitting there. Occasionally he came in, stirred the small fire which

sufficed for the increasing mildness of the spring, and went out again; sometimes pausing at the front door,

It faced westward, and though gloom prevailed inside, there was still light enough without to see with

distinctness. Mrs Clare, who had been sitting in the drawingroom, followed him hither.

"Plenty of time yet," said the Vicar. "He doesn't reach ChalkNewton till six, even if the train should be

punctual, and ten miles of countryroad, five of them in Crimmercrock Lane, are not jogged over in a hurry

Thus they passed the minutes, each well knowing that this was only waste of breath, the one essential being

At length there was a slight noise in the lane, and the old ponychaise appeared indeed outside the railings.

They saw alight therefrom a form which they affected to recognize, but would actually have passed by in the

street without identifying had he not got out of their carriage at the particular moment when a particular

Mrs Clare rushed through the dark passage to the door, and her husband came more slowly after her.

The new arrival, who was just about to enter, saw their anxious faces in the doorway and the gleam of the

west in their spectacles because they confronted the last rays of day; but they could only see his shape against

"O, my boy, my boyhome again at last!" cried Mrs Clare, who cared no more at that moment for the stains

of heterodoxy which has caused all this separation than for the dust upon his clothes. What woman, indeed,

among the most faithful adherents of the truth, believes the promises and threats of the Word in the sense in

which she believes in her own children, or would not throw her theology to the wind if weighed against their

happiness? As soon as they reached the room where the candles were lighted she looked at his face.

"O, it is not Angelnot my sonthe Angel who went away!" she cried in all the irony of sorrow, as she

His father, too, was shocked to see him, so reduced was that figure from its former contours by worry and the

bad season that Clare had experienced, in the climate to which he had so rashly hurried in his first aversion to

the mockery of events at home. You could see the skeleton behind the man, and almost the ghost behind the

skeleton. He matched Crivelli's dead CHRISTUS. His sunken eyepits were of morbid hue, and the light in

his eyes had waned. The angular hollows and lines of his aged ancestors had succeeded to their reign in his

As if, however, to falsify this assertion, his legs seemed to give way, and he suddenly sat down to save

himself from falling. It was only a slight attack of faintness, resulting from the tedious day's journey, and the

"Has any letter come for me lately?" he asked. "I received the last you sent on by the merest chance, and after

Only one other had recently come. They had not sent it on to him, knowing he would start for home so soon.

He hastily opened the letter produced, and was much disturbed to read in Tess's handwriting the sentiments

O why have you treated me so monstrously, Angel! I do not deserve it. I have thought it all over carefully,

and I can never, never forgive you! You know that I did not intend to wrong youwhy have you so wronged

me? You are cruel, cruel indeed! I will try to forget you. It is all injustice I have received at your hands. T

"It is quite true!" said Angel, throwing down the letter. "Perhaps she will never be reconciled to me!"

"Child of the soil! Well, we all are children of the soil. I wish she were so in the sense you mean; but let me

now explain to you what I have never explained before, that her father is a descendant in the male line of one

of the oldest Norman houses, like a good many others who lead obscure agricultural lives in our villages, and

He soon retired to bed; and the next morning, feeling exceedingly unwell, he remained in his room

pondering. The circumstances amid which he had left Tess were such that though, while on the south of the

Equator and just in receipt of her loving epistle, it had seemed the easiest thing in the world to rush back into

her arms the moment he chose to forgive her, now that he had arrived it was not so easy as it had seemed. She

was passionate, and her present letter, showing that her estimate of him had changed under his delaytoo

justly changed, he sadly owned,made him ask himself if it would be wise to confront her unannounced in

the presence of her parents. Supposing that her love had indeed turned to dislike during the last weeks of

Clare therefore thought it would be best to prepare Tess and her family by sending a line to Marlott

announcing his return, and his hope that she was still living with them there, as he had arranged for her to do

when he left England. He despatched the inquiry that very day, and before the week was out there came a

short reply from Mrs Durbeyfield which did not remove his embarrassment, for it bore no address, though to

J write these few lines to say that my Daughter is away from me at present, and J am not sure when she will

return, but J will let you know as Soon as she do. J do not feel at liberty to tell you Where she is temperly

It was such a relief to Clare to learn that Tess was at least apparently well that her mother's stiff reticence as

to her whereabouts did not long distress him. They were all angry with him, evidently. He would wait till Mrs

Durbeyfield could inform him of Tess's return, which her letter implied to be soon. He deserved no more. His

had been a love "which alters when it alteration finds". He had undergone some strange experiences in his

absence; he had seen the virtual Faustina in the literal Cornelia, a spiritual Lucretia in a corporeal Phryne; he

had thought of the woman taken and set in the midst as one deserving to be stoned, and of the wife of Uriah

being made a queen; and he had asked himself why he had not judged Tess constructively rather than

A day or two passed while he waited at his father's house for the promised second note from Joan

Durbeyfield, and indirectly to recover a little more strength. The strength showed signs of coming back, but

there was no sign of Joan's letter. Then he hunted up the old letter sent on to him in Brazil, which Tess had

written from FlintcombAsh, and reread it. The sentences touched him now as much as when he had first

I must cry to you in my troubleI have no one else.... I think I must die if you do not come soon, or tell me

to come to you.... Please, please, not to be justonly a little kind to me! ... If you would come, I could die in

your arms! I would be well content to do that if so be you had forgiven me! ... If you will send me one little

line and say, "I AM COMING SOON," I will bide on, AngelO so cheerfully! ... Think how it do hurt my

heart not to see you everever! Ah, if I could only make your dear heart ache one little minute of each day

as mine does every day and all day long. It might lead you to show pity to your poor lonely one....I would be

content, ay, glad, to live with you as your servant, if I may not as your wife; so that I could only be near you,

and get glimpses of you, and think of you as mine. ... I long for only one thing in heaven or earth or under the

earth, to meet you, my own dear! Come to mecome to me, and save me from what threatens me.

Clare determined that he would no longer believe in her more recent and severer regard of him; but would go

and find her immediately. He asked his father if she had applied for any money during his absence. His father

returned a negative, and then for the first time it occurred to Angel that her pride had stood in her way, and

that she had suffered privation. From his remarks his parents now gathered the real reason of the separation;

and their Christianity was such that, reprobates being their especial care, the tenderness towards Tess which

her blood, her simplicity, even her poverty, had not engendered, was instantly excited by her sin.

Whilst he was hastily packing together a few articles for his journey he glanced over a poor plain missive also

"HONOUR'D SIRLook to your Wife if you do love her as much as she do love you," and signed,

In a quarter of an hour Clare was leaving the house, whence his mother watched his thin figure as it

disappeared into the street. He had declined to borrow his father's old mare, well knowing of its necessity to

the household. He went to the inn, where he hired a trap, and could hardly wait during the harnessing. In a

very few minutes after he was driving up the hill out of the town which, three or four months earlier in the

year, Tess had descended with such hopes and ascended with such shattered purposes.

Benvill Lane soon stretched before him, its hedges and trees purple with buds; but he was looking at other

things, and only recalled himself to the scene sufficiently to enable him to keep the way. In something less

than an hourandahalf he had skirted the south of the King's Hintock estates and ascended to the untoward

solitude of CrossinHand, the unholy stone whereon Tess had been compelled by Alec d'Urberville, in his

whim of reformation, to swear the strange oath that she would never wilfully tempt him again. The pale and

blasted nettlestems of the preceding year even now lingered nakedly in the banks, young green nettles of the

Thence he went along the verge of the upland overhanging the other Hintocks, and, turning to the right,

plunged into the bracing calcareous region of FlintcombAsh, the address from which she had written to him

in one of the letters, and which he supposed to be the place of sojourn referred to by her mother. Here, of

course, he did not find her; and what added to his depression was the discovery that no "Mrs Clare" had ever

been heard of by the cottagers or by the farmer himself, though Tess was remembered well enough by her

Christian name. His name she had obviously never used during their separation, and her dignified sense of

their total severance was shown not much less by this abstention than by the hardships she had chosen to

undergo (of which he now learnt for the first time) rather than apply to his father for more funds.

From this place they told him Tess Durbeyfield had gone, without due notice, to the home of her parents on

the other side of Blackmoor, and it therefore became necessary to find Mrs Durbeyfield. She had told him she

was not now at Marlott, but had been curiously reticent as to her actual address, and the only course was to go

to Marlott and inquire for it. The farmer who had been so churlish with Tess was quite smoothtongued to

Clare, and lent him a horse and man to drive him towards Marlott, the gig he had arrived in being sent back to

Clare would not accept the loan of the farmer's vehicle for a further distance than to the outskirts of the Vale,

and, sending it back with the man who had driven him, he put up at an inn, and next day entered on foot the

region wherein was the spot of his dear Tess's birth. It was as yet too early in the year for much colour to

appear in the gardens and foliage; the socalled spring was but winter overlaid with a thin coat of greenness,

The house in which Tess had passed the years of her childhood was now inhabited by another family who had

never known her. The new residents were in the garden, taking as much interest in their own doings as if the

homestead had never passed its primal time in conjunction with the histories of others, beside which the

histories of these were but as a tale told by an idiot. They walked about the garden paths with thoughts of

their own concerns entirely uppermost, bringing their actions at every moment in jarring collision with the

dim ghosts behind them, talking as though the time when Tess lived there were not one whit intenser in story

than now. Even the spring birds sang over their heads as if they thought there was nobody missing in

On inquiry of these precious innocents, to whom even the name of their predecessors was a failing memory,

Clare learned that John Durbeyfield was dead; that his widow and children had left Marlott, declaring that

they were going to live at Kingsbere, but instead of doing so had gone on to another place they mentioned.

By this time Clare abhorred the house for ceasing to contain Tess, and hastened away from its hated presence

His way was by the field in which he had first beheld her at the dance. It was as bad as the houseeven

worse. He passed on through the churchyard, where, amongst the new headstones, he saw one of a somewhat

In memory of John Durbeyfield, rightly d'Urberville, of the once powerful family of that Name, and Direct

Descendant through an illustrious Line from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, one of the Knights of the Conqueror.

Some man, apparently the sexton, had observed Clare standing there, and drew nigh. "Ah, sir, now that's a

man who didn't want to lie here, but wished to be carried to Kingsbere, where his ancestors be."

"Ohno money. Bless your soul, sir, whythere, I wouldn't wish to say it everywhere, buteven this

The man told the name of a mason in the village, and, on leaving the churchyard, Clare called at the mason's

house. He found that the statement was true, and paid the bill. This done he turned in the direction of the

The distance was too long for a walk, but Clare felt such a strong desire for isolation that at first he would

neither hire a conveyance nor go to a circuitous line of railway by which he might eventually reach the place.

At Shaston, however, he found he must hire; but the way was such that he did not enter Joan's place till about

seven o'clock in the evening, having traversed a distance of over twenty miles since leaving Marlott. The

village being small he had little difficulty in finding Mrs Durbeyfield's tenement, which was a house in a

walled garden, remote from the main road, where she had stowed away her clumsy old furniture as best she

could. It was plain that for some reason or other she had not wished him to visit her, and he felt his call to be

somewhat of an intrusion. She came to the door herself, and the light from the evening sky fell upon her face.

This was the first time that Clare had ever met her, but he was too preoccupied to observe more than that she

was still a handsome woman, in the garb of a respectable widow. He was obliged to explain that he was

Tess's husband, and his object in coming there, and he did it awkwardly enough. "I want to see her at once,"

From the beginning of the interview Joan had disclosed her embarrassment by keeping her hand to the side of

In her evasiveness she paused again, and the younger children had by this time crept to the door, where,

"I am sure she would!" he retorted passionately. "I know her better than you do."

"Please tell me her address, Mrs Durbeyfield, in kindness to a lonely wretched man!" Tess's mother again

restlessly swept her cheek with her vertical hand, and seeing that he suffered, she at last said, is a low

"I don't know more particularly than I have said Sandbourne. For myself, I was never there."

It was apparent that Joan spoke the truth in this, and he pressed her no further.

Without entering the house Clare turned away. There was a station three miles ahead, and paying off his

coachman, he walked thither. The last train to Sandbourne left shortly after, and it bore Clare on its wheels.

At eleven o'clock that night, having secured a bed at one of the hotels and telegraphed his address to his

father immediately on his arrival, he walked out into the streets of Sandbourne. It was too late to call on or

inquire for any one, and he reluctantly postponed his purpose till the morning. But he could not retire to rest

This fashionable wateringplace, with its eastern and its western stations, its piers, its groves of pines, its

promenades, and its covered gardens, was, to Angel Clare, like a fairy place suddenly created by the stroke of

a wand, and allowed to get a little dusty. An outlying eastern tract of the enormous Egdon Waste was close at

hand, yet on the very verge of that tawny piece of antiquity such a glittering novelty as this pleasure city had

chosen to spring up. Within the space of a mile from its outskirts every irregularity of the soil was prehistoric,

every channel an undisturbed British trackway; not a sod having been turned there since the days of the

Caesars. Yet the exotic had grown here, suddenly as the prophet's gourd; and had drawn hither Tess.

By the midnight lamps he went up and down the winding way of this new world in an old one, and could

discern between the trees and against the stars the lofty roofs, chimneys, gazebos, and towers of the numerous

fanciful residences of which the place was composed. It was a city of detached mansions; a Mediterranean

loungingplace on the English Channel; and as seen now by night it seemed even more imposing than it was.

The sea was near at hand, but not intrusive; it murmured, and he thought it was the pines; the pines murmured

Where could Tess possibly be, a cottagegirl, his young wife, amidst all this wealth and fashion? The more

he pondered the more was he puzzled. Were there any cows to milk here? There certainly were no fields to

till. She was most probably engaged to do something in one of these large houses; and he sauntered along,

looking at the chamberwindows and their lights going out one by one; and wondered which of them might

Conjecture was useless, and just after twelve o'clock he entered and went to bed. Before putting out his light

he reread Tess's impassioned letter. Sleep, however, he could notso near her, yet so far from herand he

continually lifted the windowblind and regarded the backs of the opposite houses, and wondered behind

He might almost as well have sat up all night. In the morning he arose at seven, and shortly after went out,

taking the direction of the chief postoffice. At the door he met an intelligent postman coming out with

"Do you know the address of a Mrs Clare?" asked Angel. The postman shook his head.

Then, remembering that she would have been likely to continue the use of her maiden name, Clare said

"There's visitors coming and going every day, as you know, sir," he said; "and without the name of the house

"I know no name of Durbeyfield; but there is the name of d'Urberville at The Herons," said the second.

"That's it!" cried Clare, pleased to think that she has reverted to the real pronunciation. "What place is The

Clare received directions how to find the house, and hastened thither, arriving with the milkman. The Herons,

though an ordinary villa, stood in its own grounds, and was certainly the last place in which one would have

expected to find lodgings, so private was its appearance. If poor Tess was a servant here, as he feared, she

would go to the backdoor to that milkman, and he was inclined to go thither also. However, in his doubts he

The hour being early the landlady herself opened the door. Clare inquired for Teresa d'Urberville or

Tess, then, passed as a married woman, and he felt glad, even though she had not adopted his name.

He was shown into the front roomthe diningroomand looked out through the spring curtains at the

little lawn, and the rhododendrons and other shrubs upon it. Obviously her position was by no means so bad

as he had feared, and it crossed his mind that she must somehow have claimed and sold the jewels to attain it.

He did not blame her for one moment. Soon his sharpened ear detected footsteps upon the stairs, at which his

heart thumped so painfully that he could hardly stand firm. "Dear me! what will she think of me, so altered as

Tess appeared on the thresholdnot at all as he had expected to see herbewilderingly otherwise, indeed.

Her great natural beauty was, if not heightened, rendered more obvious by her attire. She was loosely

wrapped in a cashmere dressinggown of graywhite, embroidered in halfmourning tints, and she wore

slippers of the same hue. Her neck rose out of a frill of down, and her wellremembered cable of darkbrown

hair was partially coiled up in a mass at the back of her head and partly hanging on her shoulderthe evident

He had held out his arms, but they had fallen again to his side; for she had not come forward, remaining still

in the opening of the doorway. Mere yellow skeleton that he was now he felt the contrast between them, and

"Tess!" he said huskily, "can you forgive me for going away? Can't youcome to me? How do you get to

"It is too late," said she, her voice sounding hard through the room, her eyes shining unnaturally.

"I did not think rightly of youI did not see you as you were!" he continued to plead. "I have learnt to since,

"Too late, too late!" she said, waving her hand in the impatience of a person whose tortures cause every

instant to seem an hour. "Don't come close to me, Angel! Noyou must not. Keep away."

"But don't you love me, my dear wife, because I have been so pulled down by illness? You are not so

She seemed to feel like a fugitive in a dream, who tries to move away, but cannot. "Don't you know

"I waited and waited for you," she went on, her tones suddenly resuming their old fluty pathos. "But you did

not come! And I wrote to you, and you did not come! He kept on saying you would never come any more,

and that I was a foolish woman. He was very kind to me, and to mother, and to all of us after father's death.

Clare looked at her keenly, then, gathering her meaning, flagged like one plaguestricken, and his glance

"He is upstairs. I hate him now, because he told me a liethat you would not come again; and you HAVE

come! These clothes are what he's put upon me: I didn't care what he did wi' me! Butwill you go away,

They stood fixed, their baffled hearts looking out of their eyes with a joylessness pitiful to see. Both seemed

But he could not get on. Speech was as inexpressive as silence. But he had a vague consciousness of one

thing, though it was not clear to him till later; that his original Tess had spiritually ceased to recognize the

body before him as hersallowing it to drift, like a corpse upon the current, in a direction dissociated from

A few instants passed, and he found that Tess was gone. His face grew colder and more shrunken as he stood

concentrated on the moment, and a minute or two after he found himself in the street, walking along he did

Mrs Brooks, the lady who was the householder at The Herons, and owner of all the handsome furniture, was

not a person of an unusually curious turn of mind. She was too deeply materialized, poor woman, by her long

and enforced bondage to that arithmetical demon ProfitandLoss, to retain much curiousity for its own sake,

and apart from possible lodgers' pockets. Nevertheless, the visit of Angel Clare to her wellpaying tenants,

Mr and Mrs d'Urberville, as she deemed them, was sufficiently exceptional in point of time and manner to

reinvigorate the feminine proclivity which had been stifled down as useless save in its bearings to the letting

Tess had spoken to her husband from the doorway, without entering the diningroom, and Mrs Brooks, who

stood within the partlyclosed door of her own sittingroom at the back of the passage, could hear fragments

of the conversationif conversation it could be calledbetween those two wretched souls. She heard Tess

reascend the stairs to the first floor, and the departure of Clare, and the closing of the front door behind him.

Then the door of the room above was shut, and Mrs Brooks knew that Tess had reentered her apartment. As

the young lady was not fully dressed, Mrs Brooks knew that she would not emerge again for some time.

She accordingly ascended the stairs softly, and stood at the door of the front rooma drawingroom,

connected with the room immediately behind it (which was a bedroom) by foldingdoors in the common

manner. This first floor, containing Mrs Brooks's best apartments, had been taken by the week by the

d'Urbervilles. The back room was now in silence; but from the drawingroom there came sounds.

All that she could at first distinguish of them was one syllable, continually repeated in a low note of moaning,

The landlady looked through the keyhole. Only a small space of the room inside was visible, but within that

space came a corner of the breakfast table, which was already spread for the meal, and also a chair beside.

Over the seat of the chair Tess's face was bowed, her posture being a kneeling one in front of it; her hands

were clasped over her head, the skirts of her dressinggown and the embroidery of her nightgown flowed

upon the floor behind her, and her stockingless feet, from which the slippers had fallen, protruded upon the

She did not answer, but went on, in a tone which was a soliloquy rather than an exclamation, and a dirge

"And then my dear, dear husband came home to me ... and I did not know it! ... And you had used your cruel

persuasion upon me ... you did not stop using itnoyou did not stop! My little sisters and brothers and my

mother's needsthey were the things you moved me by ... and you said my husband would never come

backnever; and you taunted me, and said what a simpleton I was to expect him! ... And at last I believed

you and gave way! ... And then he came back! Now he is gone. Gone a second time, and I have lost him now

for ever ... and he will not love me the littlest bit ever any moreonly hate me! ... O yes, I have lost him

nowagain because ofyou!" In writhing, with her head on the chair, she turned her face towards the door,

and Mrs Brooks could see the pain upon it; and that her lips were bleeding from the clench of her teeth upon

them, and that the long lashes of her closed eyes stuck in wet tags to her cheeks. She continued: "And he is

dyinghe looks as if he is dying! ... And my sin will kill him and not kill me! ... O, you have torn my life all

to pieces ... made me be what I prayed you in pity not to make me be again! ... My own true husband will

There were more and sharper words from the man; then a sudden rustle; she had sprung to her feet. Mrs

Brooks, thinking that the speaker was coming to rush out of the door, hastily retreated down the stairs.

She need not have done so, however, for the door of the sittingroom was not opened. But Mrs Brooks felt it

She could hear nothing through the floor, although she listened intently, and thereupon went to the kitchen to

finish her interrupted breakfast. Coming up presently to the front room on the ground floor she took up some

sewing, waiting for her lodgers to ring that she might take away the breakfast, which she meant to do herself,

to discover what was the matter if possible. Overhead, as she sat, she could now hear the floorboards slightly

creak, as if some one were walking about, and presently the movement was explained by the rustle of

garments against the banisters, the opening and the closing of the front door, and the form of Tess passing to

the gate on her way into the street. She was fully dressed now in the walking costume of a welltodo young

lady in which she had arrived, with the sole addition that over her hat and black feathers a veil was drawn.

Mrs Brooks had not been able to catch any word of farewell, temporary or otherwise, between her tenants at

the door above. They might have quarrelled, or Mr d'Urberville might still be asleep, for he was not an early

She went into the back room which was more especially her own apartment, and continued her sewing there.

The lady lodger did not return, nor did the gentleman ring his bell. Mrs Brooks pondered on the delay, and on

what probable relation the visitor who had called so early bore to the couple upstairs. In reflecting she leant

As she did so her eyes glanced casually over the ceiling till they were arrested by a spot in the middle of its

white surface which she had never noticed there before. It was about the size of a wafer when she first

observed it, but it speedily grew as large as the palm of her hand, and then she could perceive that it was red.

The oblong white ceiling, with this scarlet blot in the midst, had the appearance of a gigantic ace of hearts.

Mrs Brooks had strange qualms of misgiving. She got upon the table, and touched the spot in the ceiling with

Descending from the table, she left the parlour, and went upstairs, intending to enter the room overhead,

which was the bedchamber at the back of the drawingroom. But, nerveless woman as she had now become,

she could not bring herself to attempt the handle. She listened. The dead silence within was broken only by a

Mrs Brooks hastened downstairs, opened the front door, and ran into the street. A man she knew, one of the

workmen employed at an adjoining villa, was passing by, and she begged him to come in and go upstairs

with her; she feared something had happened to one of her lodgers. The workman assented, and followed her

She opened the door of the drawingroom, and stood back for him to pass in, entering herself behind him.

The room was empty; the breakfasta substantial repast of coffee, eggs, and a cold hamlay spread upon

the table untouched, as when she had taken it up, excepting that the carvingknife was missing. She asked the

He opened the doors, entered a step or two, and came back almost instantly with a rigid face. "My good God,

the gentleman in bed is dead! I think he has been hurt with a knifea lot of blood had run down upon the

The alarm was soon given, and the house which had lately been so quiet resounded with the tramp of many

footsteps, a surgeon among the rest. The wound was small, but the point of the blade had touched the heart of

the victim, who lay on his back, pale, fixed, dead, as if he had scarcely moved after the infliction of the blow.

In a quarter of an hour the news that a gentleman who was a temporary visitor to the town had been stabbed

Meanwhile Angel Clare had walked automatically along the way by which he had come, and, entering his

hotel, sat down over the breakfast, staring at nothingness. He went on eating and drinking unconsciously till

on a sudden he demanded his bill; having paid which he took his dressingbag in his hand, the only luggage

At the moment of his departure a telegram was handed to hima few words from his mother, stating that

they were glad to know his address, and informing him that his brother Cuthbert had proposed to and been

Clare crumpled up the paper, and followed the route to the station; reaching it, he found that there would be

no train leaving for an hour and more. He sat down to wait, and having waited a quarter of an hour felt that he

could wait there no longer. Broken in heart and numbed, he had nothing to hurry for; but he wished to get out

of a town which had been the scene of such an experience, and turned to walk to the first station onward, and

The highway that he followed was open, and at a little distance dipped into a valley, across which it could be

seen running from edge to edge. He had traversed the greater part of this depression, and was climbing the

western acclivity, when, pausing for breath, he unconsciously looked back. Why he did so he could not say,

but something seemed to impel him to the act. The tapelike surface of the road diminished in his rear as far

as he could see, and as he gazed a moving spot intruded on the white vacuity of its perspective.

It was a human figure running. Clare waited, with a dim sense that somebody was trying to overtake him.

The form descending the incline was a woman's, yet so entirely was his mind blinded to the idea of his wife's

following him that even when she came nearer he did not recognize her under the totally changed attire in

which he now beheld her. It was not till she was quite close that he could believe her to be Tess.

"I saw youturn away from the stationjust before I got thereand I have been following you all this

She was so pale, so breathless, so quivering in every muscle, that he did not ask her a single question, but

seizing her hand, and pulling it within his arm, he led her along. To avoid meeting any possible wayfarers he

left the high road, and took a footpath under some firtrees. When they were deep among the moaning

"Angel," she said, as if waiting for this, "do you know what I have been running after you for? To tell you

"What!" said he, thinking from the strangeness of her manner that she was in some delirium.

"I have done itI don't know how," she continued. "Still, I owed it to you, and to myself, Angel. I feared

long ago, when I struck him on the mouth with my glove, that I might do it some day for the trap he set for

me in my simple youth, and his wrong to you through me. He has come between us and ruined us, and now

he can never do it any more. I never loved him at all, Angel, as I loved you. You know it, don't you? You

believe it? You didn't come back to me, and I was obliged to go back to him. Why did you go awaywhy

did youwhen I loved you so? I can't think why you did it. But I don't blame you; only, Angel, will you

forgive me my sin against you, now I have killed him? I thought as I ran along that you would be sure to

forgive me now I have done that. It came to me as a shining light that I should get you back that way. I could

not bear the loss of you any longeryou don't know how entirely I was unable to bear your not loving me!

"I do love you, TessO, I doit is all come back!" he said, tightening his arms round her with fervid

"Yes. He heard me crying about you, and he bitterly taunted me; and called you by a foul name; and then I

did it. My heart could not bear it. He had nagged me about you before. And then I dressed myself and came

By degrees he was inclined to believe that she had faintly attempted, at least, what she said she had done; and

his horror at her impulse was mixed with amazement at the strength of her affection for himself, and at the

strangeness of its quality, which had apparently extinguished her moral sense altogether. Unable to realize the

gravity of her conduct she seemed at last content; and he looked at her as she lay upon his shoulder, weeping

with happiness, and wondered what obscure strain in the d'Urberville blood had led to this aberrationif it

were an aberration. There momentarily flashed through his mind that the family tradition of the coach and

murder might have arisen because the d'Urbervilles had been known to do these things. As well as his

confused and excited ideas could reason, he supposed that in the moment of mad grief of which she spoke her

It was very terrible if true; if a temporary hallucination, sad. But, anyhow, here was this deserted wife of his,

this passionatelyfond woman, clinging to him without a suspicion that he would be anything to her but a

protector. He saw that for him to be otherwise was not, in her mind, within the region of the possible.

Tenderness was absolutely dominant in Clare at last. He kissed her endlessly with his white lips, and held her

"I will not desert you! I will protect you by every means in my power, dearest love, whatever you may have

They then walked on under the trees, Tess turning her head every now and then to look at him. Worn and

unhandsome as he had become, it was plain that she did not discern the least fault in his appearance. To her

he was, as of old, all that was perfection, personally and mentally. He was still her Antinous, her Apollo

even; his sickly face was beautiful as the morning to her affectionate regard on this day no less than when she

first beheld him; for was it not the face of the one man on earth who had loved her purely, and who had

With an instinct as to possibilities he did not now, as he had intended, make for the first station beyond the

town, but plunged still farther under the firs, which here abounded for miles. Each clasping the other round

the waist they promenaded over the dry bed of firneedles, thrown into a vague intoxicating atmosphere at

the consciousness of being together at last, with no living soul between them; ignoring that there was a

corpse. Thus they proceeded for several miles till Tess, arousing herself, looked about her, and said,

"Well, we might walk a few miles further, and when it is evening find lodgings somewhere or otherin a

Upon the whole it seemed a good thing to do. Thereupon they quickened their pace, avoiding high roads, and

following obscure paths tending more or less northward. But there was an unpractical vagueness in their

movements throughout the day; neither one of them seemed to consider any question of effectual escape,

disguise, or long concealment. Their every idea was temporary and unforefending, like the plans of two

At midday they drew near to a roadside inn, and Tess would have entered it with him to get something to

eat, but he persuaded her to remain among the trees and bushes of this halfwoodland, halfmoorland part of

the country, till he should come back. Her clothes were of recent fashion; even the ivoryhandled parasol that

she carried was of a shape unknown in the retired spot to which they had now wandered; and the cut of such

articles would have attracted attention in the settle of a tavern. He soon returned, with food enough for

halfadozen people and two bottles of wineenough to last them for a day or more, should any emergency

They sat down upon some dead boughs and shared their meal. Between one and two o'clock they packed up

"I think we may as well steer in a general way towards the interior of the country, where we can hide for a

time, and are less likely to be looked for than anywhere near the coast," Clare remarked. "Later on, when they

She made no reply to this beyond that of grasping him more tightly, and straight inland they went. Though

the season was an English May the weather was serenely bright, and during the afternoon it was quite warm.

Through the latter miles of their walk their footpath had taken them into the depths of the New Forest, and

towards evening, turning the corner of a lane, they perceived behind a brook and bridge a large board on

which was painted in white letters, "This desirable Mansion to be Let Furnished"; particulars following, with

directions to apply to some London agents. Passing through the gate they could see the house, an old brick

"I know it," said Clare. "It is Bramshurst Court. You can see that it is shut up, and grass is growing on the

"You are getting tired, my Tess!" he said. "We'll stop soon." And kissing her sad mouth he again led her

He was growing weary likewise, for they had wandered a dozen or fifteen miles, and it became necessary to

consider what they should do for rest. They looked from afar at isolated cottages and little inns, and were

inclined to approach one of the latter, when their hearts failed them, and they sheered off. At length their gait

"I have been thinking of that empty mansion we passed," he said. "Let us go back towards it again."

They retraced their steps, but it was half an hour before they stood without the entrancegate as earlier. He

She sat down among the bushes within the gate, and Clare crept towards the house. His absence lasted some

considerable time, and when he returned Tess was wildly anxious, not for herself, but for him. He had found

out from a boy that there was only an old woman in charge as caretaker, and she only came there on fine

days, from the hamlet near, to open and shut the windows. She would come to shut them at sunset. "Now, we

Under his escort she went tardily forward to the main front, whose shuttered windows, like sightless eyeballs,

excluded the possibility of watchers. The door was reached a few steps further, and one of the windows

Except the hall the rooms were all in darkness, and they ascended the staircase. Up here also the shutters were

tightly closed, the ventilation being perfunctorily done, for this day at least, by opening the hallwindow in

front and an upper window behind. Clare unlatched the door of a large chamber, felt his way across it, and

parted the shutters to the width of two or three inches. A shaft of dazzling sunlight glanced into the room,

revealing heavy, oldfashioned furniture, crimson damask hangings, and an enormous fourpost bedstead,

along the head of which were carved running figures, apparently Atalanta's race.

They remained in great quietness till the caretaker should have come to shut the windows: as a precaution,

putting themselves in total darkness by barring the shutters as before, lest the woman should open the door of

their chamber for any casual reason. Between six and seven o'clock she came, but did not approach the wing

they were in. They heard her close the windows, fasten them, lock the door, and go away. Then Clare again

stole a chink of light from the window, and they shared another meal, till byandby they were enveloped in

The night was strangely solemn and still. In the small hours she whispered to him the whole story of how he

had walked in his sleep with her in his arms across the Froom stream, at the imminent risk of both their lives,

and laid her down in the stone coffin at the ruined abbey. He had never known of that till now.

"Why didn't you tell me next day?" he said. "It might have prevented much misunderstanding and woe."

"Don't think of what's past!" said she. "I am not going to think outside of now. Why should we! Who knows

But it apparently had no sorrow. The morning was wet and foggy, and Clare, rightly informed that the

caretaker only opened the windows on fine days, ventured to creep out of their chamber, and explore the

house, leaving Tess asleep. There was no food on the premises, but there was water, and he took advantage of

the fog to emerge from the mansion, and fetch tea, bread, and butter from a shop in a little place two miles

beyond, as also a small tin kettle and spiritlamp, that they might get fire without smoke. His reentry awoke

They were indisposed to stir abroad, and the day passed, and the night following, and the next, and next; till,

almost without their being aware, five days had slipped by in absolute seclusion, not a sight or sound of a

human being disturbing their peacefulness, such as it was. The changes of the weather were their only events,

the birds of the New Forest their only company. By tacit consent they hardly once spoke of any incident of

the past subsequent to their weddingday. The gloomy intervening time seemed to sink into chaos, over

which the present and prior times closed as if it never had been. Whenever he suggested that they should

leave their shelter, and go forwards towards Southampton or London, she showed a strange unwillingness to

"Why should we put an end to all that's sweet and lovely!" she deprecated. "What must come will come."

And, looking through the shutterchink: "All is trouble outside there; inside here content."

He peeped out also. It was quite true; within was affection, union, error forgiven: outside was the inexorable.

"Andand," she said, pressing her cheek against his, "I fear that what you think of me now may not last. I

do not wish to outlive your present feeling for me. I would rather not. I would rather be dead and buried when

the time comes for you to despise me, so that it may never be known to me that you despised me."

"I also hope that. But considering what my life had been I cannot see why any man should, sooner or later, be

able to help despising me.... How wickedly mad I was! Yet formerly I never could bear to hurt a fly or a

They remained yet another day. In the night the dull sky cleared, and the result was that the old caretaker at

the cottage awoke early. The brilliant sunrise made her unusually brisk; she decided to open the contiguous

mansion immediately, and to air it thoroughly on such a day. Thus it occurred that, having arrived and opened

the lower rooms before six o'clock, she ascended to the bedchambers, and was about to turn the handle of the

one wherein they lay. At that moment she fancied she could hear the breathing of persons within. Her slippers

and her antiquity had rendered her progress a noiseless one so far, and she made for instant retreat; then,

deeming that her hearing might have deceived her, she turned anew to the door and softly tried the handle.

The lock was out of order, but a piece of furniture had been moved forward on the inside, which prevented

her opening the door more than an inch or two. A stream of morning light through the shutterchink fell upon

the faces of the pair, wrapped in profound slumber, Tess's lips being parted like a halfopened flower near his

cheek. The caretaker was so struck with their innocent appearance, and with the elegance of Tess's gown

hanging across a chair, her silk stockings beside it, the pretty parasol, and the other habits in which she had

arrived because she had none else, that her first indignation at the effrontery of tramps and vagabonds gave

way to a momentary sentimentality over this genteel elopement, as it seemed. She closed the door, and

withdrew as softly as she had come, to go and consult with her neighbours on the odd discovery.

Not more than a minute had elapsed after her withdrawal when Tess woke, and then Clare. Both had a sense

that something had disturbed them, though they could not say what; and the uneasy feeling which it

engendered grew stronger. As soon as he was dressed he narrowly scanned the lawn through the two or three

"I think we will leave at once," said he. "It is a fine day. And I cannot help fancying somebody is about the

She passively assented, and putting the room in order they took up the few articles that belonged to them, and

departed noiselessly. When they had got into the Forest she turned to take a last look at the house.

"Ah, happy housegoodbye!" she said. "My life can only be a question of a few weeks. Why should we not

"Don't say it, Tess! We shall soon get out of this district altogether. We'll continue our course as we've begun

it, and keep straight north. Nobody will think of looking for us there. We shall be looked for at the Wessex

ports if we are sought at all. When we are in the north we will get to a port and away."

Having thus persuaded her the plan was pursued, and they kept a beeline northward. Their long repose at the

manorhouse lent them walking power now; and towards midday they found that they were approaching the

steepled city of Melchester, which lay directly in their way. He decided to rest her in a clump of trees during

the afternoon, and push onward under cover of darkness. At dusk Clare purchased food as usual, and their

night march began, the boundary between Upper and MidWessex being crossed about eight o'clock.

To walk across country without much regard to roads was not new to Tess, and she showed her old agility in

the performance. The intercepting city, ancient Melchester, they were obliged to pass through in order to take

advantage of the town bridge for crossing a large river that obstructed them. It was about midnight when they

went along the deserted streets, lighted fitfully by the few lamps, keeping off the pavement that it might not

echo their footsteps. The graceful pile of cathedral architecture rose dimly on their left hand, but it was lost

upon them now. Once out of the town they followed the turnpikeroad, which after a few miles plunged

Though the sky was dense with cloud a diffused light from some fragment of a moon had hitherto helped

them a little. But the moon had now sunk, the clouds seemed to settle almost on their heads, and the night

grew as dark as a cave. However, they found their way along, keeping as much on the turf as possible that

their tread might not resound, which it was easy to do, there being no hedge or fence of any kind. All around

They had proceeded thus gropingly two or three miles further when on a sudden Clare became conscious of

some vast erection close in his front, rising sheer from the grass. They had almost struck themselves against

He listened. The wind, playing upon the edifice, produced a booming tune, like the note of some gigantic

onestringed harp. No other sound came from it, and lifting his hand and advancing a step or two, Clare felt

the vertical surface of the structure. It seemed to be of solid stone, without joint or moulding. Carrying his

fingers onward he found that what he had come in contact with was a colossal rectangular pillar; by

stretching out his left hand he could feel a similar one adjoining. At an indefinite height overhead something

made the black sky blacker, which had the semblance of a vast architrave uniting the pillars horizontally.

They carefully entered beneath and between; the surfaces echoed their soft rustle; but they seemed to be still

out of doors. The place was roofless. Tess drew her breath fearfully, and Angel, perplexed, said

Feeling sideways they encountered another towerlike pillar, square and uncompromising as the first; beyond

it another and another. The place was all doors and pillars, some connected above by continuous architraves.

The next pillar was isolated; others composed a trilithon; others were prostrate, their flanks forming a

causeway wide enough for a carriage and it was soon obvious that they made up a forest of monoliths

grouped upon the grassy expanse of the plain. The couple advanced further into this pavilion of the night till

"Yes. Older than the centuries; older than the d'Urbervilles! Well, what shall we do, darling? We may find

But Tess, really tired by this time, flung herself upon an oblong slab that lay close at hand, and was sheltered

from the wind by a pillar. Owing to the action of the sun during the preceding day the stone was warm and

dry, in comforting contrast to the rough and chill grass around, which had damped her skirts and shoes.

"I don't want to go any further, Angel," she said, stretching out her hand for his. "Can't we bide here?"

"I fear not. This spot is visible for miles by day, although it does not seem so now."

"One of my mother's people was a shepherd hereabouts, now I think of it. And you used to say at Talbothays

"I like very much to be here," she murmured. "It is so solemn and lonelyafter my great happinesswith

nothing but the sky above my face. it seems as if there were no folk in the world but we two; and I wish there

Clare though she might as well rest here till it should get a little lighter, and he flung his overcoat upon her,

"Angel, if anything happens to me, will you watch over 'LizaLu for my sake?" she asked, when they had

"She is so good and simple and pure. O, AngelI wish you would marry her if you lose me, as you will do

"That's nothing, dearest. People marry sisterlaws continually about Marlott; and 'LizaLu is so gentle and

sweet, and she is growing so beautiful. O, I could share you with her willingly when we are spirits! If you

would train her and teach her, Angel, and bring her up for your own self! ... She had all the best of me

without the bad of me; and if she were to become yours it would almost seem as if death had not divided us....

She ceased, and he fell into thought. In the far northeast sky he could see between the pillars a level streak

of light. The uniform concavity of black cloud was lifting bodily like the lid of a pot, letting in at the earth's

edge the coming day, against which the towering monoliths and trilithons began to be blackly defined.

"I believe to the sun. That lofty stone set away by itself is in the direction of the sun, which will presently rise

"This reminds me, dear," she said. "You remember you never would interfere with any belief of mine before

we were married? But I knew your mind all the same, and I thought as you thoughtnot from any reasons of

my own, but because you thought so. Tell me now, Angel, do you think we shall meet again after we are

"O, AngelI fear that means no!" said she, with a suppressed sob. "And I wanted so to see you again so

Like a greater than himself, to the critical question at the critical time he did not answer; and they were again

silent. In a minute or two her breathing became more regular, her clasp of his hand relaxed, and she fell

asleep. The band of silver paleness along the east horizon made even the distant parts of the Great Plain

appear dark and near; and the whole enormous landscape bore that impress of reserve, taciturnity, and

hesitation which is usual just before day. The eastward pillars and their architraves stood up blackly against

the light, and the great flameshaped Sunstone beyond them; and the Stone of Sacrifice midway. Presently

the night wind died out, and the quivering little pools in the cuplike hollows of the stones lay still. At the

same time something seemed to move on the verge of the dip eastwarda mere dot. It was the head of a man

approaching them from the hollow beyond the Sunstone. Clare wished they had gone onward, but in the

circumstances decided to remain quiet. The figure came straight towards the circle of pillars in which they

He heard something behind him, the brush of feet. Turning, he saw over the prostrate columns another figure;

then before he was aware, another was at hand on the right, under a trilithon, and another on the left. The

dawn shone full on the front of the man westward, and Clare could discern from this that he was tall, and

walked as if trained. They all closed in with evident purpose. Her story then was true! Springing to his feet,

he looked around for a weapon, loose stone, means of escape, anything. By this time the nearest man was

"It is no use, sir," he said. "There are sixteen of us on the Plain, and the whole country is reared."

"Let her finish her sleep!" he implored in a whisper of the men as they gathered round.

When they saw where she lay, which they had not done till then, they showed no objection, and stood

watching her, as still as the pillars around. He went to the stone and bent over her, holding one poor little

hand; her breathing now was quick and small, like that of a lesser creature than a woman. All waited in the

growing light, their faces and hands as if they were silvered, the remainder of their figures dark, the stones

glistening greengray, the Plain still a mass of shade. Soon the light was strong, and a ray shone upon her

"It is as it should be," she murmured. "Angel, I am almost gladyes, glad! This happiness could not have

lasted. It was too much. I have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!"

The city of Wintoncester, that fine old city, aforetime capital of Wessex, lay amidst its convex and concave

downlands in all the brightness and warmth of a July morning. The gabled brick, tile, and freestone houses

had almost dried off for the season their integument of lichen, the streams in the meadows were low, and in

the sloping High Street, from the West Gateway to the mediaeval cross, and from the mediaeval cross to the

bridge, that leisurely dusting and sweeping was in progress which usually ushers in an oldfashioned

From the western gate aforesaid the highway, as every Wintoncestrian knows, ascends a long and regular

incline of the exact length of a measured mile, leaving the houses gradually behind. Up this road from the

precincts of the city two persons were walking rapidly, as if unconscious of the trying ascentunconscious

through preoccupation and not through buoyancy. They had emerged upon this road through a narrow barred

wicket in a high wall a little lower down. They seemed anxious to get out of the sight of the houses and of

their kind, and this road appeared to offer the quickest means of doing so. Though they were young they

walked with bowed heads, which gait of grief the sun's rays smiled on pitilessly.

One of the pair was Angel Clare, the other a tall budding creaturehalf girl, half womana spiritualized

image of Tess, slighter than she, but with the same beautiful eyesClare's sisterinlaw, 'LizaLu. Their

pale faces seemed to have shrunk to half their natural size. They moved on hand in hand, and never spoke a

When they had nearly reached the top of the great West Hill the clocks in the town struck eight. Each gave a

start at the notes, and, walking onward yet a few steps, they reached the first milestone, standing whitely on

the green margin of the grass, and backed by the down, which here was open to the road. They entered upon

the turf, and, impelled by a force that seemed to overrule their will, suddenly stood still, turned, and waited in

The prospect from this summit was almost unlimited. In the valley beneath lay the city they had just left, its

more prominent buildings showing as in an isometric drawingamong them the broad cathedral tower, with

its Norman windows and immense length of aisle and nave, the spires of St Thomas's, the pinnacled tower of

the College, and, more to the right, the tower and gables of the ancient hospice, where to this day the pilgrim

may receive his dole of bread and ale. Behind the city swept the rotund upland of St Catherine's Hill; further

off, landscape beyond landscape, till the horizon was lost in the radiance of the sun hanging above it.

Against these far stretches of country rose, in front of the other city edifices, a large redbrick building, with

level gray roofs, and rows of short barred windows bespeaking captivity, the whole contrasting greatly by its

formalism with the quaint irregularities of the Gothic erections. It was somewhat disguised from the road in

passing it by yews and evergreen oaks, but it was visible enough up here. The wicket from which the pair had

lately emerged was in the wall of this structure. From the middle of the building an ugly flattopped

octagonal tower ascended against the east horizon, and viewed from this spot, on its shady side and against

the light, it seemed the one blot on the city's beauty. Yet it was with this blot, and not with the beauty, that the

Upon the cornice of the tower a tall staff was fixed. Their eyes were riveted on it. A few minutes after the

hour had struck something moved slowly up the staff, and extended itself upon the breeze. It was a black flag.

"Justice" was done, and the President of the Immortals, in Aeschylean phrase, had ended his sport with Tess.

And the d'Urberville knights and dames slept on in their tombs unknowing. The two speechless gazers bent

themselves down to the earth, as if in prayer, and remained thus a long time, absolutely motionless: the flag

continued to wave silently. As soon as they had strength they arose, joined hands again, and went on.