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How
stupid
he
must
think
her
!
In
an
access
of
hunger
for
his
good
opinion
she
bethought
herself
of
what
she
had
latterly
endeavoured
to
forget
,
so
unpleasant
had
been
its
issues
—
the
identity
of
her
family
with
that
of
the
knightly
d
’
Urbervilles
.
Barren
attribute
as
it
was
,
disastrous
as
its
discovery
had
been
in
many
ways
to
her
,
perhaps
Mr
Clare
,
as
a
gentleman
and
a
student
of
history
,
would
respect
her
sufficiently
to
forget
her
childish
conduct
with
the
lords
and
ladies
if
he
knew
that
those
Purbeck
-
marble
and
alabaster
people
in
Kingsbere
Church
really
represented
her
own
lineal
forefathers
;
that
she
was
no
spurious
d
’
Urberville
,
compounded
of
money
and
ambition
like
those
at
Trantridge
,
but
true
d
’
Urberville
to
the
bone
.
But
,
before
venturing
to
make
the
revelation
,
dubious
Tess
indirectly
sounded
the
dairyman
as
to
its
possible
effect
upon
Mr
Clare
,
by
asking
the
former
if
Mr
Clare
had
any
great
respect
for
old
county
families
when
they
had
lost
all
their
money
and
land
.
“
Mr
Clare
,
”
said
the
dairyman
emphatically
,
“
is
one
of
the
most
rebellest
rozums
you
ever
knowed
—
not
a
bit
like
the
rest
of
his
family
;
and
if
there
’
s
one
thing
that
he
do
hate
more
than
another
’
tis
the
notion
of
what
’
s
called
a
’
old
family
.
He
says
that
it
stands
to
reason
that
old
families
have
done
their
spurt
of
work
in
past
days
,
and
can
’
t
have
anything
left
in
’
em
now
.
There
’
s
the
Billets
and
the
Drenkhards
and
the
Greys
and
the
St
Quintins
and
the
Hardys
and
the
Goulds
,
who
used
to
own
the
lands
for
miles
down
this
valley
;
you
could
buy
’
em
all
up
now
for
an
old
song
a
’
most
.
Why
,
our
little
Retty
Priddle
here
,
you
know
,
is
one
of
the
Paridelles
—
the
old
family
that
used
to
own
lots
o
’
the
lands
out
by
King
’
s
Hintock
now
owned
by
the
Earl
o
’
Wessex
,
afore
even
he
or
his
was
heard
of
.
Well
,
Mr
Clare
found
this
out
,
and
spoke
quite
scornful
to
the
poor
girl
for
days
‘
Ah
!
’
he
says
to
her
,
‘
you
’
ll
never
make
a
good
dairymaid
!
All
your
skill
was
used
up
ages
ago
in
Palestine
,
and
you
must
lie
fallow
for
a
thousand
years
to
git
strength
for
more
deeds
!
’
A
boy
came
here
t
’
other
day
asking
for
a
job
,
and
said
his
name
was
Matt
,
and
when
we
asked
him
his
surname
he
said
he
’
d
never
heard
that
‘
a
had
any
surname
,
and
when
we
asked
why
,
he
said
he
supposed
his
folks
hadn
’
t
been
‘
stablished
long
enough
.
‘
Ah
!
you
’
re
the
very
boy
I
want
!
’
says
Mr
Clare
,
jumping
up
and
shaking
hands
wi
’
en
;
‘
I
’
ve
great
hopes
of
you
;
’
and
gave
him
half
-
a
-
crown
.
O
no
!
he
can
’
t
stomach
old
families
!
’
After
hearing
this
caricature
of
Clare
’
s
opinion
poor
Tess
was
glad
that
she
had
not
said
a
word
in
a
weak
moment
about
her
family
—
even
though
it
was
so
unusually
old
almost
to
have
gone
round
the
circle
and
become
a
new
one
.
Besides
,
another
diary
-
girl
was
as
good
as
she
,
it
seemed
,
in
that
respect
.
She
held
her
tongue
about
the
d
’
Urberville
vault
,
the
Knight
of
the
Conqueror
whose
name
she
bore
.
The
insight
afforded
into
Clare
’
s
character
suggested
to
her
that
it
was
largely
owing
to
her
supposed
untraditional
newness
that
she
had
won
interest
in
his
eyes
.
The
season
developed
and
matured
.
Another
year
’
s
instalment
of
flowers
,
leaves
,
nightingales
,
thrushes
,
finches
,
and
such
ephemeral
creatures
,
took
up
their
positions
where
only
a
year
ago
others
had
stood
in
their
place
when
these
were
nothing
more
than
germs
and
inorganic
particles
.
Rays
from
the
sunrise
drew
forth
the
buds
and
stretched
them
into
long
stalks
,
lifted
up
sap
in
noiseless
streams
,
opened
petals
,
and
sucked
out
scents
in
invisible
jets
and
breathings
.
Dairyman
Crick
’
s
household
of
maids
and
men
lived
on
comfortably
,
placidly
,
even
merrily
.
Their
position
was
perhaps
the
happiest
of
all
positions
in
the
social
scale
,
being
above
the
line
at
which
neediness
ends
,
and
below
the
line
at
which
the
CONVENANCES
begin
to
cramp
natural
feelings
,
and
the
stress
of
threadbare
modishness
makes
too
little
of
enough
.
Thus
passed
the
leafy
time
when
arborescence
seems
to
be
the
one
thing
aimed
at
out
of
doors
.
Tess
and
Clare
unconsciously
studied
each
other
,
ever
balanced
on
the
edge
of
a
passion
,
yet
apparently
keeping
out
of
it
.
All
the
while
they
were
converging
,
under
an
irresistible
law
,
as
surely
as
two
streams
in
one
vale
.
Tess
had
never
in
her
recent
life
been
so
happy
as
she
was
now
,
possibly
never
would
be
so
happy
again
.
She
was
,
for
one
thing
,
physically
and
mentally
suited
among
these
new
surroundings
.
The
sapling
which
had
rooted
down
to
a
poisonous
stratum
on
the
spot
of
its
sowing
had
been
transplanted
to
a
deeper
soil
.
Moreover
she
,
and
Clare
also
,
stood
as
yet
on
the
debatable
land
between
predilection
and
love
;
where
no
profundities
have
been
reached
;
no
reflections
have
set
in
,
awkwardly
inquiring
,
“
Whither
does
this
new
current
tend
to
carry
me
?
What
does
it
mean
to
my
future
?
How
does
it
stand
towards
my
past
?
”
