"O no--no!" replied she with grave hopelessness, as one who had

heard anew the turmoil of her own past in the allusion to Alec

d'Urberville. "It CAN'T be!"

She went out towards the mead, joining the other milkmaids with

a bound, as if trying to make the open air drive away her sad

constraint. All the girls drew onward to the spot where the cows

were grazing in the farther mead, the bevy advancing with the bold

grace of wild animals--the reckless, unchastened motion of women

accustomed to unlimited space--in which they abandoned themselves to

the air as a swimmer to the wave. It seemed natural enough to him

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now that Tess was again in sight to choose a mate from unconstrained

Nature, and not from the abodes of Art.

XXVIII

Her refusal, though unexpected, did not permanently daunt Clare.

His experience of women was great enough for him to be aware that

the negative often meant nothing more than the preface to the

affirmative; and it was little enough for him not to know that in

the manner of the present negative there lay a great exception to

the dallyings of coyness. That she had already permitted him to

make love to her he read as an additional assurance, not fully

trowing that in the fields and pastures to "sigh gratis" is by no

means deemed waste; love-making being here more often accepted

inconsiderately and for its own sweet sake than in the carking,

anxious homes of the ambitious, where a girl's craving for an

establishment paralyzes her healthy thought of a passion as an end.

"Tess, why did you say 'no' in such a positive way?" he asked her in

the course of a few days. She started.

"Don't ask me. I told you why--partly. I am not good enough--not

worthy enough." "How? Not fine lady enough?"

"Yes--something like that," murmured she. "Your friends would scorn

me."

"Indeed, you mistake them--my father and mother. As for my brothers,

I don't care--" He clasped his fingers behind her back to keep her

from slipping away. "Now--you did not mean it, sweet?--I am sure you

did not! You have made me so restless that I cannot read, or play,

or do anything. I am in no hurry, Tess, but I want to know--to hear

from your own warm lips--that you will some day be mine--any time you

may choose; but some day?"

She could only shake her head and look away from him.

Clare regarded her attentively, conned the characters of her face as

if they had been hieroglyphics. The denial seemed real. "Then I ought not to hold you in this way--ought I? I have no

right to you--no right to seek out where you are, or walk with you!

Honestly, Tess, do you love any other man?"




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