'Well, it makes no difference,' said he. 'You will always be here to milk them.'
'Do you think so? I hope I shall! But I don't know.'
She was angry with herself afterwards, thinking that he, unaware of her grave reasons for liking this seclusion
, might have mistaken her meaning. She had spoken so earnestly
to him, as if his presence were somehow a factor in her wish. Her misgiving was such that at dusk, when the milking was over, she walked in the garden alone, to continue her regrets that she had disclosed to him her discovery of his considerateness
It was a typical summer evening in June, the atmosphere being in such delicate equilibrium and so transmissive
that inanimate objects seemed endowed with two or three senses, if not five. There was no distinction between the near and the far, and an auditor
felt close to everything within the horizon. The soundlessness impressed her as a positive entity rather than as the mere negation
of noise. It was broken by the strumming
Tess had heard those notes in the attic above her head. Dim, flattened, constrained by their confinement
, they had never appealed to her as now, when they wandered in the still air with a stark quality like that of nudity
. To speak absolutely, both instrument and execution were poor, but the relative is all, and as she listened Tess, like a fascinated bird, could not leave the spot. Far from leaving she drew up towards the performer, keeping behind the hedge that he might not guess her presence.
of the garden in which Tess found herself had been left uncultivated
for some years, and was now damp and rank with juicy grass which sent up mists of pollen
at a touch; and with tall blooming weeds emitting offensive smells - weeds whose red and yellow and purple hues formed a polychrome
as dazzling as that of cultivated flowers. She went stealthily as a cat through this profusion
of growth, gathering cuckoo-spittle on her skirts, cracking snails that were underfoot, staining her hands with thistlemilk
and slug-slime, and rubbing off upon her naked arms sticky blights which, though snow-white on the apple-tree trunks, made madder stains on her skin; thus she drew quite near to Clare, still unobserved of him.