Tess was so wrapt up in this fanciful dream that she
seemed not to know how the season was advancing; that
the days had lengthened, that Lady-Day was at hand,
and would soon be followed by Old Lady-Day, the end
of her term here.
But before the quarter-day had quite come, something
happened which made Tess think of far different matters.
She was at her lodging as usual one evening, sitting
in the downstairs room with the rest of the family,
when somebody knocked at the door and inquired for
Tess. Through the doorway she saw against the
declining light a figure with the height of a woman
and the breadth of a child, a tall, thin, girlish
creature whom she did not recognize in the twilight
till the girl said “Tess!”
“What—is it ’Liza-Lu?”
asked Tess, in startled accents. Her sister,
whom a little over a year ago she had left at home
as a child, had sprung up by a sudden shoot to a form
of this presentation, of which as yet Lu seemed herself
scarce able to understand the meaning. Her thin
legs, visible below her once-long frock, now short
by her growing, and her uncomfortable hands and arms
revealed her youth and inexperience.
“Yes, I have been traipsing about all day, Tess,”
said Lu, with unemotional gravity, “a-trying
to find ’ee; and I’m very tired.”
“What is the matter at home?”
“Mother is took very bad, and the doctor says
she’s dying, and as father is not very well
neither, and says ’tis wrong for a man of such
a high family as his to slave and drave at common labouring
work, we don’t know what to do.”
Tess stood in reverie a long time before she thought
of asking ’Liza-Lu to come in and sit down.
When she had done so, and ’Liza-Lu was having
some tea, she came to a decision. It was imperative
that she should go home. Her agreement did not
end till Old Lady-Day, the sixth of April, but as
the interval thereto was not a long one she resolved
to run the risk of starting at once.
To go that night would be a gain of twelve-hours;
but her sister was too tired to undertake such a distance
till the morrow. Tess ran down to where Marian
and Izz lived, informed them of what had happened,
and begged them to make the best of her case to the
farmer. Returning, she got Lu a supper, and after
that, having tucked the younger into her own bed,
packed up as many of her belongings as would go into
a withy basket, and started, directing Lu to follow
her next morning.
She plunged into the chilly equinoctial darkness as
the clock struck ten, for her fifteen miles’
walk under the steely stars. In lonely districts
night is a protection rather than a danger to a noiseless
pedestrian, and knowing this, Tess pursued the nearest
course along by-lanes that she would almost have feared
in the day-time; but marauders were wanting now, and
spectral fears were driven out of her mind by thoughts
of her mother. Thus she proceeded mile after
