The y oung man, thus invited, glan ced th em ov er, and attem pted so me discrimination; but, as the group were all so new to him, he could not very well exercise it.He took alm ost th e f irst that cam e to hand, which was no t th e speaker, as she had expected; n or d id it h appen to b e Tess Durbey field.Pedigree, ancestral skeletons, monumental record, the d'Urberville lineaments, did not he lp Tess in her l ife's battle a s yet, even t o the ex tent of attr acting toher a dancing-partner over the heads of the commonest peasantry.So much for Norman blood unaided by Victorian lucre.
The name of the eclipsing girl, whatever it was, has not been handed down; but she was envied by all as the first who enjoy ed the luxury of a masculine partner that evening.Yet such was th e force of example that the village young men, who had not hasten ed to enter the gate while no intr uder was in the way, now dropped in q uickly, and soon the coup les became leavened with r ustic 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 stru ck, when suddenly the stu dent said that he must leave—he had been forgetting him self—he had to join his companions.As he fell out of the dan ce his eyes lighted on Tess Durbeyfield, whose own large orbs wore, to tell th e tr uth, th e fain test asp ect o f reproach that he had no t chosen her.He, too, was sorry then that, owing to her backwardness, he had not observed her; and with that in his mind he left the pasture.
On accoun t of his long delay he s tarted in a fly ing-run dow n the lan e westward, and had soon passed the h ollow 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 w hirled when he was among them.They seem ed to h ave q uite forgotten him already.
All of them, except, p erhaps, one.This white sh ape stood apart by the hedge alone.From her position he knew it to be the pretty maiden with whom he had n ot danced.Trifling as th e matter was, he yet insinctively felt that she was hurt by his oversight.He wished that he had asked her; he wished that he had inquired her nam e.She was so modest, so ex pressive, she had looked so soft in her thin white gown that he felt he had acted stupidly.
However, it could no t be helped, and turning, and bending h imself to a rapid walk; he dismissed the subject from his mind.
3
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 would-be partner in the affirmative.
She did not so easily dislodge the in cidentfrom 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 y oung stranger's retreating figur e on th e h ill th at she shook off h er temporary sadness and answered her would-be partner in the affirmative.
She remained with her comrades till dusk, and participated with a certain zest in the dancing; though, being heart-whole as yet, she en joyed 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 dis tresses”of those girls who had been wooed and won, what she herself was capable of in that k ind.The struggles and wrangles of the lads for her hand in a jig were an amusement to her—no more; and when they became fierce she rebuked them.
She might h ave s tayed even later, b ut the incident o f her f ather's odd appearance and manner returned upon the girl's mind to make her anxious, and wondering what had beco me 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 rhy thmic sounds than those he h ad quitted became audible to her; sounds that she knew well—so well.They wereAs for Tess Durbeyfield a regular series of thumpings from the interior of the house, occasioned by the violent rocking of a crad le upon a stone floor, to which movement a f eminine 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 gto'—ove;
“Come, love！'and I'll tell'you where！”
The cr adle-rocking and the song would ce ase sim ultaneously for a moment, and an exclamation at highest vocal pitch would take the place of the melody.
“God bless thy dim ent eyes！And thy waxen cheeks！And thy cherry mouth！And thy Cubit's thighs！And every bit o'thy blessed body！”
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 drear iness.Fro m the holiday gaie tics of the field—the white gowns, the nosegays, the willow-wands, the whirling movements on the green, the flash of gentle sentiment towards the stranger—to the yellow melancholy of this one-candled spectacle, what a step！Besides the jar of con trast there came to her a chill self-reproach that she had not return ed sooner, to help her mother in these domesticities, instead of indulging herself out-of-doors.
There stood her mother amid the group of ch ildren, as Tess h ad left her, hanging over the Monday washing-tub, which had now, as always, lingered on to the end of the week.O ut of that tub had co me the day before—Tess felt it with a dreadful sting of remorse—the very white frock upon her back wh ich she had so carelessly greened about the skirt on the damping grass—which had been wrung up and ironed by her mother's own hands.
As usual, Mrs.Durbey field was balanced on one foot beside the tub, the other being engaged in the afor esaid business of rocking her youngest child.The cradle-rockers had done hard duty for so m any years, under the weigh t 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, excitcdby her song, trod the rocker with all the spring that was left in her after a long day's seething in the suds.
Nick-knock, nick-knock, went the cradle; the cand leflame stretched itself tall, and beg an jigging u p and down; th e water dribbled fro m the matron's elbows, and the song galloped on to the end of the verse, M rs.Durbey field regarding her daughter the while.Even now, when burdened with a y oung family, Joan Durbeyfield was a pass ionate lover of tune.No ditty floated into Blackmoor Vale from thc outer world but Tess's mother caught up its notation in a week.
There st ill f aintly bea med fro m th e woman's features so mething of th e 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 mother's gift, and therefore unknightly, unhistorical.
“I'll rock the cradle for'ee, mother, ”said the daughter gently.“Or I'll take off my best frock and help you wring up?I thought you had finished long ago.”
Her mother bore Tess no ill-w ill for leav ing the housework to her single-handed 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 f or relieving herself of her lab ours lay in postponing them.To-night, however, she was even in a blither mood than usual.There was a dreaminess, a preoccupation, an ex altation, in the maternal look which th e gir l could not understand.
“Well, I'm glad you've come, ”h er mother said, as soon as th e last note had passed o ut of her.“I want to go and fetch y our father; but what's more'n that, I want to tell'ee what have happened.Y'll be fess enou gh, my popp et, when th'st know！”（Mrs, Durbeyfield habitually spoke the dialect; her daughter, who had passed the Sixth Stand ard in th e National School und er aLondon-trained mistress, spoke two languages; the dialect at home, more or less; ordinary English abroad and to Persons of quality.）
“Since I've been away?”Tess asked.
“Ay！”
“Had it anything to do with father's making such a mommet of himself in thik carriage this afternoon?Why did'er?I felt inclined to sink into the groundwith shame！”
“That wer all a p art of the larry！We've been fo und to be the greates t gentlefolk in the whole coun ty—reaching a ll back long before Olive r Grumble's time—to the days of the Pagan Turks—with monuments, and vaults, and crests, and'scutcheons, and the Lord knows what all.In Saint Charles's days we was made K nights o'the Roy al Oak, our r eal n ame b eing d'Urberville……Don't that make your bosom plim?''Twas on this account that your father r ode home in the v lee; not because he'd been drin king, as p eople supposed.”
“I'm glad of that.Will it do us any good, mother?”
“O yes！”'Tis thou ghted that gr eat things may co me o't.No doubt a mampus of volk of our own rank will be down h ere in their carriages as soon as'tis known.Your fath er learnt it on his way home from Shaston, and he has been telling me the whole pedigree of the matter.”
“Where is father now?”asked Tess suddenly.
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 f at 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 th ere, and all round there; th is space is stil l open, ''a say s.‘As soon as it do meet, so, '”—Mrs.Durbeyfield closed her fingers in to a circ le c omplete—”‘off y ou will g o li ke a shadder, Mr.Durbeyfield, ''a says.‘You mid last ten years; you mid go off in ten months, or ten days.'”
Tess looked alarmed.Her father possibly to go behind the eternal cloud so soon, notwithstanding this sudden greatness！
“But where is father?”she asked again.
Her mother put on a deprecating look.“Now d on't y ou be bursting ou t angry！The poor man—he felt so rafted after his uplifting by the pa'son's news—that he went up to Rolliver's half an hour ag o.He do want to get up his strength for his journey to-morrow w ith that load of beehives, which must be delivered, family or no.He'll have to start shortly after twelve to-night, as thedistance is so long.”
“Get up his strength！”said Tess impetuously, the tears welling to her eyes.“O m y God！Go to a p ublic-house to get up his streng th！And y ou as well agreed as he, mother！”
Her rebuke and her mood seemed to f ill the whole room, and to im part a cowed look to the furniture, and candle, and children playing about, and to her mother's face.
“No, ”said the latter touchily, “I be not agreed.I have been waiting for'ee to bide and keep house while I go and fetch him.”
“I'll go.”
“O no, Tess.You see, it would be no use.”
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 which the matron deplored more than its necessity.
“And take the Compleat Fortune-Teller to the ou thouse, ”Joan continued, rapidly wiping her hands, and donning the garments.
The Co mpleat Fortun e-Teller was an old th ick v olume, wh ich 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 go ing to hunt up h er shif tless husband at the inn was one of Mr s.Durbeyfield's stil l ex tant enjoy ments in the muck and muddle of re aring children.To discover h im at Rolliver's, to sit th ere for an ho ur 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 pheno mena for serene contemplation, and no longer stood as pressing co ncretions which ch afed body and soul.The y oungsters, no t immediately within sigh t, seemed r ather br ight and desirable appurtenan ces than otherwise; the incidents of daily life were no t without hu morousness and jollity in their aspect there.She felt a little as she had used to feel when she sat by her now wedded hus band in the same spot during his woo ing, shutting her eyes to his defects of character, and regarding him only in his ideal presentationas lover.
Tess, being left alone with the younger children, went first to the outhouse with the fortune-telling 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 co nsulted.Between the mother, with her fast-p erishing lu mber of superstitions, folk-lore, 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 together the Jacobean and the Victorian ages were juxtaposed.
Returning along the garden path Tess m used on what the mo ther could have wished to ascertain from the book on this particular day.She guessed the recent an cestral dis covery to bear u pon it, bu t did no t d ivine th at it so lely concerned herself.Dismissing this, however, she busied herself with sprinkling the linen dr ied during the daytime, in company with her n ine-year-old brother Abraham, and her sister ElizaLouisa of twelve an d a half, ca lled“'Liza-Lu, ”the youngest ones being put to bed.There was an interv al of four y ears and more between Tess and the next of the family, the two who ha d filled the gap having died in their infancy, and this lent her a d eputy-maternal 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 jus t completed his first year.
All these young souls were passengers in the Du rbeyfield ship—entirely dependent on the judgment of the two Durbey field adults for their pleasures, their n ecessities, th eir health, ev en their existence.If the heads of the Durbeyfield household chose to sail into difficulty, disaster, starvation, disease, degradation, death, thither were these half-dozen little captives under hatches compelled to sail with them—six helpless creatures, who had never been asked if they wished for life on any terms, much less if they wished for i t on s uch 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 and pure, gets his authority for speaking of“Nature's holy plan.”
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 everywhere：she could inwardly behold the extinguisher and the extended hand.
Her m other's fetching s imply m eant one m ore to fetch.Tess began to perceive that a man in in different health, who pro posed to start on a journey before one in the morning, ought not to be at an inn at this late hour celebrating his ancient blood.
“Abraham, ”she said to her little br other, “do y ou put on y our hat—you bain't afraid?—and go up to Rolliv er's, and see what has go ne wi'father and mother.”
The boy jum ped pro mptly from h is seat, and o pened the d oor, and th e night swallowed him up.Half an hou r passed y et again; neither man, wo man, nor child returned.Abraham, like h is parents, seemed to h ave been lim ed and caught by the ensnaring inn.
“I must go myself, ”she said.
'Liza-Lu 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 bef ore in ches of land had valu e, and when one-handed clocks sufficiently subdivided the day.
4
Rolliver's inn, the s inger the ale-house at th is end of the long an dbroken v illage, could o nly boast of an off-licen se; h ence, as nobody co uld legally drin k on the pre mises, the am ount of overt acco mmodation 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 they could have a restful seat inside.Rolliver's inn, the s inger the ale-house at th is end of the long an dbroken v illage, could o nly boast of an off-licen se; h ence, as nobody co uld legally drin k on the pre mises, the am ount of overt acco mmodation 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 they could have a restful seat inside.
Thus the strangers.But there were also local customers who felt the same wish; and where there's a will there's a way.
In a large b edroom 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 doz en persons, all seeking beatitude; all old inhabitants o f the ne arer end of Ma rlott, and freq uenters of this re treat.Not only did the distance to The Pure Drop, the fully-licensed tavern at the further part of the dispersed village, render its accommodation practically unavailable for dwellers at th is 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 housetop than with the other landlord in a wide house.
A gaunt four-post bedstead which stood in the room afforded sitting-space for several p ersons gathered round three of its sides; a couple more men had elevated themselves on a chest of d rawers; ano ther rested o n the o ak-carved“cwoffer”; two on the wash-stand; another on the stoo l; an d thus all w ere, somehow, seated at their ease.The stage of mental comfort to which they had arrived at th is hour was one wherein their souls expanded beyond their skins, and spread their p ersonalities war mly through th e roo m.In this process th e chamber and its furniture grew m ore and more d ignified and luxurious; the shawl hanging at the window took upon itself the richness of tapestry; the brass handles of the ches t of drawers w ere as gold en knockers; and the carved bed-posts seem ed to have so me kinship with the magnificent p illars of Solomon's temple.
Mrs.Durbeyfield, hav ing quick ly walked h itherward af ter p arting fr om Tess, opened the fron t door, crossed the downstair s room, which was in deep gloom, and then unf astened th e stair-door like o ne whose fingers knew the tricks of the latches well.Her ascen t of th e cro oked staircase was a slo wer process, and her f ace, as it rose into the light abo ve the last s tair, 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, ”th e landlady exclaimed at th e sound of foosteps, as glib ly as a child repeating the Catechis m, while she peered over the stairs.“Oh, 'tis you, Mrs.Durbeyfield—Lard—how y ou frightened me！—I thou ght it might be some gaffer sent by Gover'ment.
Mrs.Durbeyfield was welco med with glances and nods by the remainder of the conclave, and tu rned to wher e 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-sub-Greenhill, and finer skillen tons than any man in Wessex！”
“I've something to tell'ee that's come into my head about th at—a grandprojick！”wh ispered his cheerful wif e.“Here, Jo hn, don't'ee see me?”Sh e nudged him, while he, looking through her as through a window-pane, went on with his recitative.
“Hush！Don't'ee sing so loud, my good man, ”said the landlady; “in case any member of the Gover'ment should be passing, and take away my licends.”
“He's told'ee what's happened to us, I suppose?”asked Mrs.Durbeyfield.
“Yes—in a way.D'ye think there's any money hanging by it?”
“Ah, that's the secret, ”said Joan Durbey field sagely.“However, 'tis well to be kin to a coach, even if y ou don't ride in'en.”She d ropped her public voice, and continued in a low to ne to her husband：“I've been thinking since you brought the news th at there's a great rich lady out by Trantr idge, on the edge o'The Chase, of the name of d'Urberville.”
“Hey—what's that?”said Sir John.
She repeated the information.“That lady must be our relation, ”she said.“And my projick is to send Tess to claim kin.”
“There is a lady of th e name, now you m ention it, ”said D urbeyfield.“Pa'son Tringham didn't think of that.But she's nothing beside we—a junior branch of us, no doubt, hailing long since King Norm-an's day.”
While this q uestion was being discussed neith er of the pair noticed, in their preo ccupation, that li ttle Abraham had cr ept into th e roo m, 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 v ery good th ing.I don't see wh y two branches o'one family should not be on visiting terms.”
“Yes; and we'll all claim k in！”sa id Abraham brightly from under the bedstead.“And we'll all go and s ee her when Tess has gone to live with h er; and we'll ride in her coach and wear black clothes！”
“How do you come here, child?What nonsense b e ye talking！Go awa y, 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 lady—Tess would; and likely enough'twould lead to some noble gentleman marrying her.In short, I know it.”
“How?”
