But there was trouble in my family; father was not very
industrious, and he drank a little."
"Yes, yes. Poor child! Nothing new." He pressed her more closely
to his side.
"And then--there is something very unusual about it--about me. I--I
was--"
Tess's breath quickened.
"Yes, dearest. Never mind."
"I--I--am not a Durbeyfield, but a d'Urberville--a descendant of the
same family as those that owned the old house we passed. And--we are
all gone to nothing!"
"A d'Urberville!--Indeed! And is that all the trouble, dear Tess?"
"Yes," she answered faintly.
"Well--why should I love you less after knowing this?"
"I was told by the dairyman that you hated old families."
He laughed.
"Well, it is true, in one sense. I do hate the aristocratic
principle of blood before everything, and do think that as reasoners
the only pedigrees we ought to respect are those spiritual ones of
the wise and virtuous, without regard to corporal paternity. But
I am extremely interested in this news--you can have no idea how
interested I am! Are you not interested yourself in being one of
that well-known line?"
"No. I have thought it sad--especially since coming here, and
knowing that many of the hills and fields I see once belonged to
my father's people.
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