"Mr d'Urberville whistled to 'em this morning, ma'am," said

Elizabeth.

"He! Pooh!"

The old lady's face creased into furrows of repugnance, and she made

no further reply. Thus the reception of Tess by her fancied kinswoman terminated, and

the birds were taken back to their quarters. The girl's surprise at

Mrs d'Urberville's manner was not great; for since seeing the size of

the house she had expected no more. But she was far from being aware

that the old lady had never heard a word of the so-called kinship.

She gathered that no great affection flowed between the blind woman

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and her son. But in that, too, she was mistaken. Mrs d'Urberville

was not the first mother compelled to love her offspring resentfully,

and to be bitterly fond. In spite of the unpleasant initiation of the day before, Tess

inclined to the freedom and novelty of her new position in the

morning when the sun shone, now that she was once installed there;

and she was curious to test her powers in the unexpected direction

asked of her, so as to ascertain her chance of retaining her post.

As soon as she was alone within the walled garden she sat herself

down on a coop, and seriously screwed up her mouth for the

long-neglected practice. She found her former ability to have

degenerated to the production of a hollow rush of wind through the

lips, and no clear note at all.

She remained fruitlessly blowing and blowing, wondering how she

could have so grown out of the art which had come by nature, till

she became aware of a movement among the ivy-boughs which cloaked

the garden-wall no less then the cottage. Looking that way she

beheld a form springing from the coping to the plot. It was Alec

d'Urberville, whom she had not set eyes on since he had conducted

her the day before to the door of the gardener's cottage where she

had lodgings. "Upon my honour!" cried he, "there was never before such a beautiful

thing in Nature or Art as you look, 'Cousin' Tess ('Cousin' had a

faint ring of mockery). I have been watching you from over the

wall--sitting like IM-patience on a monument, and pouting up that

pretty red mouth to whistling shape, and whooing and whooing, and

privately swearing, and never being able to produce a note. Why,

you are quite cross because you can't do it."

"I may be cross, but I didn't swear."

"Ah! I understand why you are trying--those bullies! My mother

wants you to carry on their musical education. How selfish of her!

As if attending to these curst cocks and hens here were not enough

work for any girl. I would flatly refuse, if I were you."




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