entleman-kinsman who'll make Sissy a lady?" asked the
youngest child.

Meanwhile the muslined form of Tess could be seen standing still,
undecided, beside this turn-out, whose owner was talking to her.
Her seeming indecision was, in fact, more than indecision: it was
misgiving. She would have preferred the humble cart. The young
man dismounted, and appeared to urge her to ascend. She turned her
face down the hill to her relatives, and regarded the little group.
Something seemed to quicken her to a determination; possibly the
thought that she had killed Prince. She suddenly stepped up; he
mounted beside her, and immediately whipped on the horse. In a
moment they had passed the slow cart with the box, and disappeared
behind the shoulder of the hill.

Directly Tess was out of sight, and the interest of the matter as a
drama was at an end, the little ones' eyes filled with tears. The
youngest child said, "I wish poor, poor Tess wasn't gone away to be a
lady!" and, lowering the corners of his lips, burst out crying. The
new point of view was infectious, and the next child did likewise,
and then the next, till the whole three of them wailed loud.

There were tears also in Joan Durbeyfield's eyes as she turned to
go home. But by the time she had got back to the village she was
passively trusting to the favour of accident. However, in bed that
night she sighed, and her husband asked her what was the matter.

"Oh, I don't know exactly," she said. "I was thinking that perhaps
it would ha' been better if Tess had not gone."

"Oughtn't ye to have thought of that before?"

"Well, 'tis a chance for the maid--Still, if 'twere the doing again,
I wouldn't let her go till I had found out whether the gentleman
is really a good-hearted young man and choice over her as his
kinswoman."

"Yes, you ought, perhaps, to ha' done that," snored Sir John.

Joan Durbeyfield always managed to find consolation somewhere: "Well,
as one of the genuine stock, she ought to make her way with 'en, if
she plays her trump card aright. And if he don't marry her afore he
will after. For that he's all afire wi' love for her any eye can
see."

"What's her trump card? Her d'Urberville blood, you mean?"

"No, stupid; her face--as 'twas mine."

VIII

Having mounted beside her, Alec d'Urberville drove rapidly along
the crest of the first hill, chatting compliments to Tess as they
went, the cart with her box being left far behind. Ri