In Saint Charles's days we was made Knights o' the
Royal Oak, our real name being d'Urberville! ... Don't that make
your bosom plim? 'Twas on this account that your father rode home
in the vlee; not because he'd been drinking, as people supposed."
"I'm glad of that. Will it do us any good, mother?"
"O yes! 'Tis thoughted that great things may come o't. No doubt a
mampus of volk of our own rank will be down here in their carriages
as soon as 'tis known. Your father learnt it on his way hwome
from Shaston, and he has been telling me the whole pedigree of the
matter."
"Where is father now?" asked Tess suddenly.
Her mother gave irrelevant information by way of answer: "He called
to see the doctor to-day in Shaston. It is not consumption at all,
it seems. It is fat round his heart, 'a says. There, it is like
this." Joan Durbeyfield, as she spoke, curved a sodden thumb
and forefinger to the shape of the letter C, and used the other
forefinger as a pointer. "'At the present moment,' he says to your
father, 'your heart is enclosed all round there, and all round
there; this space is still open,' 'a says. 'As soon as it do
meet, so,'"--Mrs Durbeyfield closed her fingers into a circle
complete--"'off you will go like a shadder, Mr Durbeyfield,' 'a says.
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