Afternoon came, and with it the hour for departure.They had decided, to fulfil, the plan of going for a few d ays to th e lodgings in the old farm-house 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 red-brick entry to see them go out, the dairy man and his wife following to the door.T ess saw her thr ee chamber-mates in a row against the wall, pensively inclining their heads.She had much q uestioned if they would appear at th e parting moment; but there they were, s toical and staunch to th e last.She k new why the delicate Retry looked so fragile, and Izz so tragicaily sorrowful, and Marian so blank; and she forgot her own dogging shadow for a moment in contemplating theirs.
She impulsively whispered to him—
“Will you kiss'em all, once, poor things, for the first and last time?”
Clare had not the least objection to such a farewell formality—which was all tha t it w as to h im—and as h e p assed th em he kissed th em in succession where they stood, saying“Good-bye”to each as he did so.When they reached the door T ess feminin ely glanced back to dis cern the ef fect 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 o bviously don e har m by awakening f eelings they were try ing to subdue.
Of all this Clare was unconscious.Passing on to the wicket-gate he shoo k hands with the dairy man and h is wife, and expressed his thanks to them for their a ttentions; af ter wh ich there wa s a moment of si lence 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 their ears through, dwindling away like echoes down a valley of rocks.
“Oh?”said Mrs.Crick.“An afternoon crow！”
Two men were standing by the yard gate, holding it open.
“That's bad, ”one murmured to the other, not thinking that the words could be heard by the group at the doorwicket.
The cock crew again—straight towards Clare.
“Well！”said the dairyman.
“I don't like to hear him！”said Tess to her husband.“Tell the man to drive on, Good-bye, good-bye！”
The cock crew again.
“Hoosh！Just you be of f, sir, or I'll twist y our 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 heard his crow of an afternoon all the year afore.”
“It only means a change in the weather, ”said she; “not what you think：'tis impossible！”
34
They drove by the level road along the valley to a distance of a fewmiles, and, r eaching Wellbridge, turned away from the village to the left, an d over th e gr eat Elizabethan bridg e which giv es the p lace half its n ame.Immediately behind it stood the hou se wherein they had eng aged lodgings, whose exterior features are so well k nown to all travellers through the Fro om Valley; once portion of a fine manorial residence, and the property and seat of a d'Urberville, but since its partial demolition a farm-house.
“Welcome to one of your ancestral mansions！”said Clare as he handed her down.But he regretted the pleasantry; it was too near a satire.
On entering they found that, though they had only engaged a couple of rooms, the f armer had taken advantage of their proposed pres ence during the coming days to pay a New Year's visit to some friends, leaving a woman from a neigh bouring cottage to min ister to their few wants.The absoluteness of possession p leased them, and they reali zed it as the first moment of th eir experience under their own exclusive roof-tree.
But he found that the mouldly old habitation somewhat depressed his bride.When the carriage was g one they ascended the stairs to wash their hands, the charwoman showing the way.On the landing Tess stopped and started.
“What's the matter?”said he.
“Those horrid women！”she answered, with a smile.“How they frightened me.”
He looked up, and perceived two life-size portraits on panels built into the masonry.As all v isitors to the mansion are awar e, thes e pain tings rep resent women of middle age, of a date so me two hundred y ears ago, w hose lineaments once seen can never be forgotten.The long pointed features, narrow eye, and smirk of the on e, so suggestive of merciless treachery; the b ill-hook nose, large teeth, and bold eye of the other, suggesting arrogance to the point of ferocity, haunt the beholder afterwards in his dreams.
“Whose portraits are those?”asked Clare of the charwoman.
“I have bee n told by ol d folk th at they were la dies of th e 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 featur es were unqu estionably traceable in these exaggerated forms.He said nothing of this, however, and, regretting that he had gone out of his way to choose the ho use for their bridal time, went on into the adjo ining room.The place having been rather hastily prepared for them they washed their hands in one basin.Clare touched hers under the water.
“Which are my fingers and which are yours?”he said, looking up.“They are very much mixed.”
“They are all y ours, ”said she, very prettily, and endeavour ed to be gay er than she was.He h ad not been displeased with h er thoughtfulness on su ch an occasion; it was what e very sensible woman would show：bu t Tess knew that she had been thoughtful to excess, and struggled against it.
The sun was so low on that short last afternoon of the year that it shone in through a s mall opening and for med a golden s taff which stretch ed across to her skirt, wh ere it made a spot like a paint-mark set upon her.They went into the ancient parlor to tea, and here they shared their first co mmon meal alone.Such was their childishness, or rather his, that he found it interesting to use the same bread-and-butter plate as h erself, and to brush crumbs from her lips with his own.He wondered a little that she did not en ter into these frivolities with his own zest.
Looking at her silently for a long tim e; ”She is a dear d ear T ess, ”h e thought to himself, as one decidin g on th e tr ue constr uction of a d ifficult passage.“Do I realize so lemnly 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.Andshall I ever neglect her, or hurt her, or even forget to consider her?God forbid such a crime！”
They sat on over the tea-table waiting for their lugg age, 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 d eparture of th e sun the calm mood of the winter day changed.Out of doors th ere began noises as of silk smartly rubbed; the res tful dead leaves of the preceding au tumn were stirred to irr itated resurrection, and whirled ab out unwilling ly, and tapped agains t th e shutters.It soon began to rain.
“That cock knew the weather was going to change, ”said Clare.
The woman who had attended upon them had gone home for the night, but she had placed candles u pon th e table, and now they lit them.Each can dle-flame drew towards the fireplace.
“These old houses are so draugh ty, ”con tinued Angel, loo king at the flames, and at the grease guttering down the sides.“I wonder where that luggage is.We haven't even a brush and comb.”
“I don't know, ”she answered, absent-minded.
“Tess, you are not a bit cheerful this evening—not 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 serio us intent; but she was surcharged with emotio n, and win ced like a wounded an imal Though she tried not to shed tears she could not help showing one or two.
“I did no t mean it！”said he, sorry.“You are wor ried at not h aving your things, I know.I cannot think why old Jonathan has not come with them.Why, it is seven o'clock?Ah, there he is！”
A knock had come to th e door, and, there bein g nobody else to answer it Clare went out.He returned to the room with a small package in his hand.
“It is not Jonathan, after all, ”he said.
“How vexing！”said Tess.
The packet had been b rought by a special messenger, who h ad arrived at Talbothays fro m Em minster Vicarage im mediately a fter th e departure of t hemarried 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 lon g, sewed up in canvas, sealed in red wax with h is f ather's seal, and directed in his father's hand to“Mrs.Angel Clare.”
“It is a little wedding-pr esent f or y ou, Tess, ”said he, h anding it to he r.“How thoughtful they are！”
Tess looked a little flustered as she took it.
“I think I would rather have you open it, dearest”said she, turning over the parcel.“I don't like to break those great seals; they look so serious.Please open it for me！”
He undid the parcel.Inside was a case of morocco leather, on the top of which lay a note and a key.
The note was for Clare, in the following words：
My Dear Son, —Possibly y ou have for gotten that on the d eath of y our godmother, Mrs.Pitney, when you were a lad, sh e—vain kind woman that she was—left to me a por tion of the con tents of h er jewel-case in trust for y our wife, if y ou should ev er have on e, as a mark o f her af fection for y ou an d whomsoever you should choose.This trust I have fulfilled, and the diamonds have been locked up at m y banker's ever since.Though I feel it to b e 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, heirloo ms, str ictly speaking, accord ing to the ter ms of y our godmother's will The precise words of the clause that refers to this matter are enclosed.
“I do remember, ”said Clare; “but I had quite forgotten.”
Unlocking the case, th ey found it to contain a necklace, with pendan t, bracelets, and ear-rings; and also some other small ornaments.
Tess see med afraid to touch th em a t first, but h er ey es spar kled for a moment as much as the stones when Clare spread out the set.
“Are they mine?”she asked incredulously.
“They are, certainly, ”said he.
He looked into the fire.He remembered how, when he was a lad of fifteen, his god mother, the Squir e's wife—the only rich person with whom h e h ad ever come in contact—had pinned her faith to his success; h ad prophesied a wondrous career for h im.There had seemed nothing at all o ut of keeping with such a con jectured career in the sto ring, 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 th e equation it should be admitted into the other.His wife was a d'Urberville：whom could they become better than her?
Suddenly he said with enthusiasm—
“Tess, put them on—put them on！”And he turned from the fire to help her.
But as if b y m agic she had alread y donned them—necklace, earr ings, bracelets, and all.