When she entered the house she perceived in a moment from her mother's triumphant
manner that something had occurred in the interim.
''Oh yes; I know all about it! I told 'ee it would be all right, and now 'tis
''Since I've been away? What has?'' said Tess rather wearily.
Her mother surveyed the girl up and down with arch approval, and went on banteringly:
''So you've brought 'em round!''
''How do you know, mother?''
''I've had a letter.''
Tess then remembered that there would have been time for this.
''They say-Mrs d'Urberville says-that she wants you to look after a little fowl-farm
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 kin-that's the meaning o't.''
''But I didn't see her.''
''You zid somebody, I suppose?''
''I saw her son.''
''And did he own 'ee?''
''Well-he called me Coz.''
''An' I knew it! Jacky-he called her Coz!'' cried Joan to her husband. ''Well,
he spoke to his mother, of course, and she do want 'ee there.''
''But I don't know that I am apt at tending fowls,'' said the dubious Tess.
''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 to do, that you midn't feel
''I don't altogether think I ought to go,'' said Tess thoughtfully. ''Who wrote
the letter? Will you let me look at it?''
''Mrs d'Urberville wrote it. Here it is.''
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 poultry-farm,
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.
''Oh-that's all!'' said Tess.
''You couldn't expect her to throw her arms round 'ee, an' to kiss and to coll
'ee all at once.''
Tess looked out of the window.
''I would rather stay here with father and you,'' she said.
''I'd rather not tell you why, mother; indeed, I don't quite know why.''
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, saying, ''The gentleman's
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 fowl-farm 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 interested in 'ee-truth to tell.''
Tess seemed for the moment really pleased to hear that she had won such high
opinion from a stranger when, in her own esteem, she had sunk so low.
''It is very good of him to think that,'' she murmured; ''and if I was quite
sure how it would be living there, I would go any-when.''
''He is a mighty handsome man!''
''I don't think so,'' said Tess coldly.
''Well, there's your chance, whether or no; and I'm sure he wears a beautiful
''Yes,'' said little Abraham, brightly, from the window-bench; ''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 mistarshers?''
''Hark at that child!'' cried Mrs Durbeyfield, with parenthetic admiration.
''Perhaps to show his diamond ring,'' murmured Sir John, dreamily, from his chair.
''I'll think it over,'' said Tess, leaving the room.
''Well, she's made a conquest o' the younger branch of us, straight off,'' continued
the matron to her husband, ''and she's a fool if she don't follow it up.''
''I don't quite like my children going away from home,'' said the haggler. ''As
the head of the family, the rest ought to come to me.''
''But do let her go, Jacky,'' coaxed his poor witless wife. ''He's struck wi'
her-you 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 really paid 'em a visit to
such an end as this?''
Meanwhile Tess was walking thoughtfully among the gooseberry-bushes in the garden,
and over Prince's grave. When she came in her mother pursued her advantage.
''Well, what be you going to do?'' she asked.
''I wish I had seen Mrs d'Urberville,'' said Tess.
''I think you mid as well settle it. Then you'll see her soon enough.''
Her father coughed in his chair.
''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. But-but-I don't quite like Mr d'Urberville being there!''
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 reluctance, and teased and
reproached her for hesitating.
''Tess won't go-o-o and be made a la-a-dy of!-no, she says she wo-o-on'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 won't look pretty in her best cloze no mo-o-ore!''
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 preserved an attitude of neutrality.
''I will go,'' said Tess at last.
Her mother could not repress her consciousness of the nuptial Vision conjured
up by the girl's consent.
''That's right! For such a pretty maid as 'tis, this is a fine chance!''
Tess smiled crossly.
''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 enough, after the visitor's
remarks, to say a good deal.
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 spring-cart 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 self-assurance 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 light-minded woman had been discovering
good matches for her daughter almost from the year of her birth.
On the morning appointed for her departure Tess was awake before dawn-at the marginal
minute of the dark when the grove is still mute, save for one prophetic bird who
sings with a clear-voiced 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 breakfast-time, and then came down in her ordinary
week-day clothes, 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'tЕ. But I think it will be wiser of 'ee to put your best
side outward,'' she added.
''Very well; I suppose you know best,'' replied Tess with calm abandonment.
And to please her parent the girl put herself quite in Joan's hands, saying serenely-''Do
what you like with me, mother.''
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
club-walking, 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 much more than a child.
''I declare there's a hole in my stocking-heel!'' said Tess.
''Never mind holes in your stockings-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 mother's pride in the girl's appearance led her to step back, 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
As the looking-glass 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 lower
''I'll tell 'ee what 'tis, Durbeyfield,'' said she exultingly; ''he'll never
have the heart not to love her. But whatever you do, don't zay too much to Tess
of his fancy for her, and this chance she has got. She is such an odd maid that
it mid zet her against him, or against going there, even now. If all goes well,
I shall certainly be for making some return to pa'son at Stagfoot Lane for telling
us-dear, good man!''
However, as the moment for the girl's setting out drew nigh, when the first excitement
of the dressing had passed off, a slight misgiving found place in Joan Durbeyfield's
mind. It prompted the matron to say that she would walk a little way-as far as to
the point where the acclivity from the valley began its first steep ascent to the
outer world. At the top Tess was going to be met with the spring-cart sent by the
Stoke-d'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
''I do want to walk a little-ways wi' Sissy, now she's going to marry our gentleman-cousin,
and wear fine cloze!''
''Now,'' said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, ''I'll hear no more o' that!
Mother, how could you ever put such stuff into their heads?''
''Going to work, my dears, for our rich relation, and help get enough money for
a new horse,'' said Mrs Durbeyfield pacifically.
''Goodbye, father,'' said Tess, with a lumpy throat.
''Goodbye, my maid,'' said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended
his nap, induced by a slight excess this morning in honour of the occasion. ''Well,
I hope my young friend will like such a comely sample of his own blood. And tell'n,
Tess, that being sunk, quite, from our former grandeur, I'll sell him the title-yes,
sell it-and at no onreasonable figure.''
''Not for less than a thousand pound!'' cried Lady Durbeyfield.
''Tell'n-I'll take a thousand pound. Well, I'll take less, when I come to think
o't. He'll adorn it better than a poor lammicken feller like myself can. Tell'n
he shall hae it for a hundred. But I won't stand upon trifles-tell'n he shall hae
it for fifty-for twenty pound! Yes, twenty pound-that's the lowest. Dammy, family
honour is family honour, and I won't take a penny less!''