'Very well, thank you, sir,' she replied demurely.
As they had been discussing a score of personal matters only
half-an-hour before, the introductory style seemed a little
superfluous. But they got no further in speech just then. They
crept and crept, the hem of her petticoat just touching his gaiter,
and his elbow sometimes brushing hers. At last the dairyman, who
came next, could stand it no longer.
'Upon my soul and body, this here stooping do fairly make my back
open and shut!' he exclaimed, straightening himself slowly with an
excruciated look till quite upright. 'And you, maidy Tess, you
wasn't well a day or two ago--this will make your head ache finely!
Don't do any more, if you feel fainty; leave the rest to finish it.'
Dairyman Crick withdrew, and Tess dropped behind. Mr Clare also
stepped out of line, and began privateering about for the weed. When
she found him near her, her very tension at what she had heard the
night before made her the first to speak.
'Don't they look pretty?' she said.
'Who?'
'Izzy Huett and Retty.'
Tess had moodily decided that either of these maidens would make a
good farmer's wife, and that she ought to recommend them, and obscure
her own wretched charms.
'Pretty? Well, yes--they are pretty girls--fresh looking. I have
often thought so.'
'Though, poor dears, prettiness won't last long!'
'O no, unfortunately.'
'They are excellent dairywomen.'
'Yes: though not better than you.'
'They skim better than I.'
'Do they?'
Clare remained observing them--not without their observing him.
'She is colouring up,' continued Tess heroically.
'Who?'
'Retty Priddle.'
'Oh! Why it that?'
'Because you are looking at her.'
Self-sacrificing as her mood might be, Tess could not well go further
and cry, 'Marry one of them, if you really do want a dairywoman and
not a lady; and don't think of marrying me!' She followed Dairyman
Crick, and had the mournful satisfaction of seeing that Clare
remained behind.
From this day she forced herself to take pains to avoid him--never
allowing herself, as formerly, to remain long in his company, even if
their juxtaposition were purely accidental. She gave the other three
every chance.
Tess was woman enough to realize from their avowals to herself that
Angel Clare had the honour of all the dairymaids in his keeping, and
her perception of his care to avoid compromising the happiness of
either in the least degree bred a tender respect in Tess for what she
