This was always how Clare settled practical questions; by
a sentiment which had nothing to do with them. They decided to go
immediately after the wedding, and remain for a fortnight, instead
of journeying to towns and inns.
"Then we will start off to examine some farms on the other side of
London that I have heard of," he said, "and by March or April we will
pay a visit to my father and mother."
Questions of procedure such as these arose and passed, and the day,
the incredible day, on which she was to become his, loomed large in
the near future. The thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, was
the date. His wife, she said to herself. Could it ever be? Their
two selves together, nothing to divide them, every incident shared
by them; why not? And yet why?
One Sunday morning Izz Huett returned from church, and spoke
privately to Tess.
"You was not called home this morning."
"What?"
"It should ha' been the first time of asking to-day," she answered,
looking quietly at Tess. "You meant to be married New Year's Eve,
deary?"
The other returned a quick affirmative.
"And there must be three times of asking. And now there be only two
Sundays left between."
Tess felt her cheek paling; Izz was right; of course there must be
three.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342