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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
.
”
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
.
Rising
still
,
an
immense
landscape
stretched
around
them
on
every
side
;
behind
,
the
green
valley
of
her
birth
,
before
,
a
gray
country
of
which
she
knew
nothing
except
from
her
first
brief
visit
to
Trantridge
.
Thus
they
reached
the
verge
of
an
incline
down
which
the
road
stretched
in
a
long
straight
descent
of
nearly
a
mile
.
