"Yes," said Tess. They crept along towards a point in the expanse of shade just at hand

at which a feeble light was beginning to assert its presence, a spot

where, by day, a fitful white streak of steam at intervals upon the

dark green background denoted intermittent moments of contact between

their secluded world and modern life. Modern life stretched out its

steam feeler to this point three or four times a day, touched the

native existences, and quickly withdrew its feeler again, as if what

it touched had been uncongenial.

They reached the feeble light, which came from the smoky lamp of a

little railway station; a poor enough terrestrial star, yet in one

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sense of more importance to Talbothays Dairy and mankind than the

celestial ones to which it stood in such humiliating contrast. The

cans of new milk were unladen in the rain, Tess getting a little

shelter from a neighbouring holly tree.

Then there was the hissing of a train, which drew up almost silently

upon the wet rails, and the milk was rapidly swung can by can into

the truck. The light of the engine flashed for a second upon Tess

Durbeyfield's figure, motionless under the great holly tree. No

object could have looked more foreign to the gleaming cranks and

wheels than this unsophisticated girl, with the round bare arms, the

rainy face and hair, the suspended attitude of a friendly leopard at

pause, the print gown of no date or fashion, and the cotton bonnet

drooping on her brow. She mounted again beside her lover, with a mute obedience

characteristic of impassioned natures at times, and when they had

wrapped themselves up over head and ears in the sailcloth again, they

plunged back into the now thick night. Tess was so receptive that

the few minutes of contact with the whirl of material progress

lingered in her thought. "Londoners will drink it at their breakfasts to-morrow, won't they?"

she asked. "Strange people that we have never seen."

"Yes--I suppose they will. Though not as we send it. When its

strength has been lowered, so that it may not get up into their

heads."

"Noble men and noble women, ambassadors and centurions, ladies and

tradeswomen, and babies who have never seen a cow."

"Well, yes; perhaps; particularly centurions."

"Who don't know anything of us, and where it comes from; or think how

we two drove miles across the moor to-night in the rain that it might

reach 'em in time?"

"We did not drive entirely on account of these precious Londoners; we

drove a little on our own--on account of that anxious matter which

you will, I am sure, set at rest, dear Tess. Now, permit me to put

it in this way. You belong to me already, you know; your heart, I

mean. Does it not?"




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