Page 529 - tess-of-the-durbervilles

who I mean—came to ask for ‘ee at Flintcomb after you had
gone? We didn’t tell’n where you was, knowing you wouldn’t
wish to see him.’
‘Ah—but I did see him!’ Tess murmured. ‘He found me.’
‘And do he know where you be going?’
‘I think so.’
‘Husband come back?’
‘No.’
She bade her acquaintance goodbye—for the respec-
tive carters had now come out from the inn—and the two
waggons resumed their journey in opposite directions; the
vehicle whereon sat Marian, Izz, and the ploughman’s fam-
ily with whom they had thrown in their lot, being brightly
painted, and drawn by three powerful horses with shin-
ing brass ornaments on their harness; while the waggon on
which Mrs Durbeyfield and her family rode was a creaking
erection that would scarcely bear the weight of the super-
incumbent load; one which had known no paint since it
was made, and drawn by two horses only. The contrast well
marked the difference between being fetched by a thriving
farmer and conveying oneself whither no hirer waited one’s
coming.
The distance was great—too great for a day’s jour-
ney—and it was with the utmost difficulty that the horses
performed it. Though they had started so early, it was quite
late in the afternoon when they turned the flank of an em-
inence which formed part of the upland called Greenhill.
While the horses stood to stale and breathe themselves Tess
looked around. Under the hill, and just ahead of them, was

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