shed to see a little of the working of a flour-mill,
having an idea that he might combine the use of one with
corn-growing. The proprietor of a large old water-mill at
Wellbridge--once the mill of an Abbey--had offered him the inspection
of his time-honoured mode of procedure, and a hand in the operations
for a few days, whenever he should choose to come. Clare paid a
visit to the place, some few miles distant, one day at this time,
to inquire particulars, and returned to Talbothays in the evening.
She found him determined to spend a short time at the Wellbridge
flour-mills. And what had determined him? Less the opportunity of an
insight into grinding and bolting than the casual fact that lodgings
were to be obtained in that very farmhouse which, before its
mutilation, had been the mansion of a branch of the d'Urberville
family. This was always how Clare settled practical questions; by
a sentiment which had nothing to do with them. They decided to go
immediately after the wedding, and remain for a fortnight, instead
of journeying to towns and inns.

"Then we will start off to examine some farms on the other side of
London that I have heard of," he said, "and by March or April we will
pay a visit to my father and mother."

Questions of procedure such as these arose and passed, and the day,
the incredible day, on which she was to become his, loomed large in
the near future. The thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, was
the date. His wife, she said to herself. Could it ever be? Their
two selves together, nothing to divide them, every incident shared
by them; why not? And yet why?

One Sunday morning Izz Huett returned from church, and spoke
privately to Tess.

"You was not called home this morning."

"What?"

"It should ha' been the first time of asking to-day," she answered,
looking quietly at Tess. "You meant to be married New Year's Eve,
deary?"

The other returned a quick affirmative.

"And there must be three times of asking. And now there be only two
Sundays left between."

Tess felt her cheek paling; Izz was right; of course there must be
three. Perhaps he had forgotten! If so, there must be a week's
postponement, and that was unlucky. How could she remind her lover?
She who had been so backward was suddenly fired with impatience and
alarm lest she should lose her dear prize.

A natural incident relieved her anxiety. Izz mentioned the omission
of the banns to Mrs Crick, and Mrs Cri