Having at last taken her course Tess was less restless and abstracted, going about her business with some self-assurance in the thought of acquiring another horse for h er fath er by an occup ation which would not b e on erous.She h ad hoped to b e a teacher at the school, but the fates s eemed to decide o therwise.Being mentally older than her mother she d id not regard Mrs.Durbey field's matrimonial hopes for her in a s erious aspect for a moment.The light-minded woman had been discovering good matches for h er daughter almost from the year of her birth.
7
On the morning appointed for h er depar ture Tess was awake beforedawn—at the marginal minute of the dark when the grove is still mute, save for one proph etic bird who sings with a clear-vo iced conv iction that h e at least knows the correct tim e of day, the rest pres erving silence as if equ ally convinced that he is m istaken.She r emained upstairs packing till breakfast-time, and then came do wn in her o rdinary weekday clo thes, her Sunday apparel being carefully folded in her box.
Her mother expostulated.“You will never set out to see your folks without dressing up more the dand than that?”
“But I am going to work！”said Tess.
“Well, yes, ”said Mrs.Durbeyfield; and in a private tone, “at first there mid be a little pretence o't……But I think it will be wiser of'ee to put your best side outward, ”she added.
“Very well; I suppose you know best, ”rep lied Tess with calmabandonment.
And to please her par ent the girl put herself quite in Joan's hands, saying serenely—“Do what you like with me, mother.”
Mrs.Durbey field was only too delighted at this tractability.First sh e fetched a great basin, and washed Tess's hair with such thoroughness that when dried and brushed it looked twice as much as at o ther times.She tied it with a broader pink ribbon than usual.Then she put upon her the white frock that Tess had worn at the clu b-waiking, the airy fulness of which, sup plementing her enlarged coiffure, imparted to her developing figure an amplitude which belied her age, and might cause her to be estimated as a woman when she was not much more than a child.
“I declare there's a hole in my stocking-heel！”said Tess.
“Never mind holes in y our stocking s—they don't speak！When I was a maid, so long as I had a pretty bonnet the devil might ha'found me in heels.”
Her mothe r's pride in th e gir l's appearance led h er to s tep b ack, like a painter from his easel, and survey her work as a whole.
“You must zee yourself！”she cried.“It is much better than you was t'other day.”
As the looking-glass was only large enough to ref lect a very small portion of Tess's person at one time, Mrs.Durbeyfield hung a black cloak outside th e casement, and so made a large r eflector of th e panes, as it is th e wont of bedecking cottagers to do.After this she went downstairs to her husband, who was sitting in the lower room.
“I'll tell'ee what'tis, Durbeyfield, ”said she exultingly; “he'll never have the heart not to love her.But whatever you do, don't zay too much to Tess of his fancy for her, and this chance she has go t.She is su ch an odd maid that it mid zet her against him, or agains t going there, even now.If all go es well, I shall certainly be for making so me return to that pa'son at Stagfoot Lane for telling us—dear, good man！”
However, as the moment for the girl's setting out drew nigh, when the first excitement o f the dressin g had p assed off, a slig ht misgiving found p lace in Joan Durbeyfield's mind.It prompted the matron to say that she would walk a little way—as far as the point where the acclivity from the valley began its first steep ascent to the outer world.At the top Tess was going to be met with the spring-cart s ent by the Stoke d'Urbervilles, and her box had already beenwheeled ahead towards this summit by a lad with trucks, to be in readiness.
Seeing their mother put on her bonnet the y ounger children clamoured to go with her.
“I do want to walk a little-way s wi'Sissy, now she's going to marry our gentleman-cousin, and wear fine cloze！”
“Now, ”said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, “I'll hear no more o'that！Mother, how could you ever put such stuff into their heads?”
“Going to work, m y d ears, for our rich relatio n, and help get eno ugh money for a new horse, ”said Mrs.Durbeyfield pacificaly.
“Goodbye, father, ”said Tess, with a lumpy throat.
“Good-bye, my maid, ”said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended his nap, indu ced by a slight excess this morning in honour of the occasion.“Well, I hope my young friend will like such a comely sample of his own blood.And tell'n, Tess, that being sunk, quite, fro m our former grandeur, I'll sell him the title—yes, sell it—and at no onreasonable figure.”
“Not for less than a thousand pound！”cried Lady Durbeyfield.
“Tell'n—I'll take a thousand pound.Well, I'll take less, when I co me to think o't.He'll adorn it better than a poor lammicken f eller like myself can.Tell'n he shall hae it fo r a hun dred.But I won't stand upon trifles—tell'n he shall hae it for fifty—for twenty pound！Yes, twenty pound—that's the lowest.Dammy, family honour is family honour, and I won't take a penny less！”
Tess's eyes were too full and her v oice too choked to u tter the sentiments that were in her.She turned quickly, and went out.
So the gi rls and their mother all walked together, a child on each side o f Tess, holding her hand, and looking at her meditatively from time to time, as at one who was about to do great things; her mother just behind with the smallest; the group forming a picture of honest beauty flanked by innocence, and backed by simple-souled vanity.They followed the way till they reached the beginning of the ascent, on the crest of wh ich the vehicle fron Trantridge was to receive her, this limit having b een fixed to save the horse the labour of the las t slope.Far away behind the first hills the cliff-like dwellings of Shaston broke the line of the ridge.Nobody was visible in the elevated road which skirted the ascent save the lad whom they had sent on before them, sitting on th e handle of thebarrow that contained all Tess's worldly possessions.
“Bide here a bit, and the car t will soon co me, no doubt, ”said Mrs.Durbeyfield.“Yes, I see it yonder！”
It had come—appearing suddenly from behind the forehead of the nearest upland, and stopping b eside the bo y with the barrow.Her m other and the children thereupon decided to go no farther, and bidding them a hasty goodbye Tess bent her steps up the hill.
They saw her white sh ape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her bo x was already placed.But before she had quite reached it another vehicle shot out from a clump of trees on the summit, came round the bend of the road there, passed the luggage-cart, and h alted beside Tess, who look ed up as if in great surprise.
Her mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like the firs t, but a spick-and-span gig or dog-cart, highly varnished and equipped.The driver was a y oung man of three-or four and-twenty, with a c igar b etween his teeth; wearing a dandy ca p, drab jacket, breeches of the sa me hue, white neckcloth, s tick-up collar, and bro wn driving-gloves—in short, he was the handsome, horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess.