She had walked more than a dozen miles
the previous evening, had gone to bed at midnight, and had risen
again at five o'clock. Marian alone, thanks to her bottle of liquor
and her stoutness of build, stood the strain upon back and arms
without suffering. Tess urged Izz to leave off, agreeing, as she
felt better, to finish the day without her, and make equal division
of the number of sheaves.

Izz accepted the offer gratefully, and disappeared through the great
door into the snowy track to her lodging. Marian, as was the case
every afternoon at this time on account of the bottle, began to feel
in a romantic vein.

"I should not have thought it of him--never!" she said in a dreamy
tone. "And I loved him so! I didn't mind his having YOU. But this
about Izz is too bad!"

Tess, in her start at the words, narrowly missed cutting off a finger
with the bill-hook.

"Is it about my husband?" she stammered.

"Well, yes. Izz said, 'Don't 'ee tell her'; but I am sure I can't
help it! It was what he wanted Izz to do. He wanted her to go off
to Brazil with him."

Tess's face faded as white as the scene without, and its curves
straightened. "And did Izz refuse to go?" she asked.

"I don't know. Anyhow he changed his mind."

"Pooh--then he didn't mean it! 'Twas just a man's jest!"

"Yes he did; for he drove her a good-ways towards the station."

"He didn't take her!"

They pulled on in silence till Tess, without any premonitory
symptoms, burst out crying.

"There!" said Marian. "Now I wish I hadn't told 'ee!"

"No. It is a very good thing that you have done! I have been living
on in a thirtover, lackaday way, and have not seen what it may lead
to! I ought to have sent him a letter oftener. He said I could not
go to him, but he didn't say I was not to write as often as I liked.
I won't dally like this any longer! I have been very wrong and
neglectful in leaving everything to be done by him!"

The dim light in the barn grew dimmer, and they could see to work no
longer. When Tess had reached home that evening, and had entered
into the privacy of her little white-washed chamber, she began
impetuously writing a letter to Clare. But falling into doubt, she
could not finish it. Afterwards she took the ring from the ribbon on
which she wore it next her heart, and retained it on her finger all
night, as if to fortify herself in the sensation that she was really
the wife of this elusive lover of hers, who c