'Twas said that my gr't-granfer had secrets, and didn't care to talk
of where he came from... And where do we raise our smoke, now,
parson, if I may make so bold; I mean, where do we d'Urbervilles
live?'
'You don't live anywhere. You are extinct--as a county family.'
'That's bad.'
'Yes--what the mendacious family chronicles call extinct in the male
line--that is, gone down--gone under.'
'Then where do we lie?'
'At Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill: rows and rows of you in your vaults,
with your effigies under Purbeck-marble canopies.'
'And where be our family mansions and estates?'
'You haven't any.'
'Oh? No lands neither?'
'None; though you once had 'em in abundance, as I said, for you
family consisted of numerous branches. In this county there was a
seat of yours at Kingsbere, and another at Sherton, and another in
Millpond, and another at Lullstead, and another at Wellbridge.'
'And shall we ever come into our own again?'
'Ah--that I can't tell!'
'And what had I better do about it, sir?' asked Durbeyfield, after a
pause.
'Oh--nothing, nothing; except chasten yourself with the thought of
'how are the mighty fallen.' It is a fact of some interest to the
local historian and genealogist, nothing more. There are several
families among the cottagers of this county of almost equal lustre.
Good night.'
'But you'll turn back and have a quart of beer wi' me on the strength
o't, Pa'son Tringham? There's a very pretty brew in tap at The Pure
Drop--though, to be sure, not so good as at Rolliver's.'
'No, thank you--not this evening, Durbeyfield. You've had enough
already.' Concluding thus, the parson rode on his way, with doubts
as to his discretion in retailing this curious bit of lore.
When he was gone, Durbeyfield walked a few steps in a profound
reverie, and then sat down upon the grassy bank by the roadside,
depositing his basket before him. In a few minutes a youth appeared
in the distance, walking in the same direction as that which had been
pursued by Durbeyfield. The latter, on seeing him, held up his hand,
and the lad quickened his pace and came near.
'Boy, take up that basket! I want 'ee to go on an errand for me.'
The lath-like stripling frowned. 'Who be you, then, John
Durbeyfield, to order me about and call me 'boy'? You know my
name as well as I know yours!'
'Do you, do you? That's the secret--that's the secret! Now obey my
orders, and take the message I'm going to charge 'ee wi'... Well,
Fred, I don't mind telling you that the secret is that I'm one of a
noble race--it has been just found out by me this present afternoon,
P.M.' And as he made the announcement, Durbeyfield, declining from
his sitting position, luxuriously stretched himself out upon the bank
