on the crest of which the vehicle from Trantridge was to receive her, this limit having been fixed to save the horse the labour of the last slope.  Far away behind the first hills the cliff-like dwellings of Shaston broke the line of the ridge.  Nobody was visible in the elevated road which skirted the ascent save the lad whom they had sent on before them, sitting on the handle of the barrow that contained all Tess’s worldly possessions.

“Bide here a bit, and the cart will soon come, no doubt,” said Mrs Durbeyfield.  “Yes, I see it yonder!”

It had come—­appearing suddenly from behind the forehead of the nearest upland, and stopping beside the boy with the barrow.  Her mother and the children thereupon decided to go no farther, and bidding them a hasty goodbye, Tess bent her steps up the hill.

They saw her white shape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her box was already placed.  But before she had quite reached it another vehicle shot out from a clump of trees on the summit, came round the bend of the road there, passed the luggage-cart, and halted beside Tess, who looked up as if in great surprise.

Her mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like the first, but a spick-and-span gig or dog-cart, highly varnished and equipped.  The driver was a young man of three- or four-and-twenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab jacket, breeches of the same hue, white neckcloth, stick-up collar, and brown driving-gloves—­in short, he was the handsome, horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess.

Mrs Durbeyfield clapped her hands like a child.  Then she looked down, then stared again.  Could she be deceived as to the meaning of this?

“Is dat the gentleman-kinsman who’ll make Sissy a lady?” asked the youngest child.

Meanwhile the muslined form of Tess could be seen standing still, undecided, beside this turn-out, whose owner was talking to her.  Her seeming indecision was, in fact, more than indecision:  it was misgiving.  She would have preferred the humble cart.  The young man dismounted, and appeared to urge her to ascend.  She turned her face down the hill to her relatives, and regarded the little group.  Something seemed to quicken her to a determination; possibly the thought that she had killed Prince.  She suddenly stepped up; he mounted beside her, and immediately whipped on the horse.  In a moment they had passed the slow cart with the box, and disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill.

Directly Tess was out of sight, and the interest of the matter as a drama was at an end, the little ones’ eyes filled with tears.  The youngest child said, “I wish poor, poor Tess wasn’t gone away to be a lady!” and, lowering the corners of his lips, burst out crying.  The new point of view was infectious, and the next child did likewise, and then the next, till the whole three of them wailed loud.