Tess of the dUrbervilles - Page 142/283

"What is in them?"

"Almost either of 'em," she began, "would make--perhaps would

make--a properer wife than I. And perhaps they love you as well

as I--almost." "O, Tessy!"

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 self-immolation 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 dismissed.

The work progressed leisurely. Each pailful was poured into tall

cans that stood in a large spring-waggon 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 looked

at his heavy watch. "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 to-day to take it home and mix it with the bulk afore sending

off. It must go to station straight from here. Who'll drive it

across?" 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 milking-hood only, naked-armed 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 stool to the dairyman to take home, and

mounted the spring-waggon beside Clare.

XXX

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 fir-trees,

whose notched tips appeared like battlemented towers crowning

black-fronted castles of enchantment.

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 one of these, pluck it off, and give

it to his companion.