In the shades of the wet road she soon discerned her mother with tall
'Liza-Lu and Abraham. Mrs Durbeyfield's pattens clicked up to the
door, and Tess opened it.
"I see the tracks of a horse outside the window," said Joan. "Hev
somebody called?"
"No," said Tess.
The children by the fire looked gravely at her, and one murmured--
"Why, Tess, the gentleman a-horseback!"
"He didn't call," said Tess. "He spoke to me in passing."
"Who was the gentleman?" asked the mother. "Your husband?"
"No. He'll never, never come," answered Tess in stony hopelessness.
"Then who was it?"
"Oh, you needn't ask. You've seen him before, and so have I."
"Ah! What did he say?" said Joan curiously.
"I will tell you when we are settled in our lodging at Kingsbere
to-morrow--every word."
It was not her husband, she had said. Yet a consciousness that in a
physical sense this man alone was her husband seemed to weigh on her
more and more.
LII
During the small hours of the next morning, while it was still dark,
dwellers near the highways were conscious of a disturbance of their
night's rest by rumbling noises, intermittently continuing till
daylight--noises as certain to recur in this particular first week of
the month as the voice of the cuckoo in the third week of the same.
Pages:
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597