The d'Urbervilles - or Stoke-d'Urbervilles, as they at first called themselves - who owned all this, were a somewhat unusual family to find in such an old-fashioned part of the country.Parson Tringham had spoken truly when he said that our shambling John Durbeyfield was the only really lineal representative of the old d'Urberville family existing in the county, or near it; he might have added, what he knew very well, that the Stoke-d'Urbervilles were no more d'Urbervilles of the true tree than he was himself.Yet it must be admitted that this family formed a very good stock whereon to regraft a name which sadly wanted such renovation.
When old Mr Simon Stoke, latterly deceased, had made his fortune as an honest merchant (some said money-lender) in the North, he decided to settle as a county man in the South of England, out of hall of his business district; and in doing this he felt the necessity of recommencing with a name that would not too readily identify him with the smart tradesman of the past, and that would be less commonplace than the original bald stark words.Conning for an hour in the British Museum the pages of works devoted to extinct, half extinct, obscured, and ruined families appertaining to the quarter of England in which he proposed to settle, he considered that d'Urberville looked and sounded as well as any of them: and d'Urberville accordingly was annexed to his own name for himself and his heirs eternally.Yet he was not an extravagant minded man in this, and in constructing his family tree on the new basis was duly reasonable in framing his inter-marriages and aristocratic links, never inserting a single title above a rank of strict moderation.
Of this work of imagination poor Tess and her parents were naturally in ignorance - much to their discomfiture; indeed, the very possibility of such annexations was unknown to them; who supposed that, though to be well favoured might be the gift of fortune, a family name came by nature.
Tess still stood hesitating like a barber about to make his plunge, hardly knowing whether to retreat or to persevere, when a figure came forth from the dark triangular door of the tent.It was that of a tall young man, smoking.
He had an almost swarthy complexion, with full lips, badly moulded, though red and smooth, above which was a well-groomed black moustache with curled points, though his age could not be more than three or four-and-twenty.
Despite the touches of barbarism in his contours, there was a singular force in the gentleman's face, and in his bold rolling eye.
`Well, my Beauty, what can I do for you?' said he, coming forward.And perceiving that she stood quite confounded: `Never mind me.I am Mr d'Urberville.
Have you come to see me or my mother?'
This embodiment of a d'Urberville and a namesake differed even more from what Tess had expected than the house and grounds had differed.She had dreamed of an aged and dignified face, the sublimation of all the d'Urberville lineaments, furrowed with incarnate memories representing in hieroglyphic the centuries of her family's and England's history.But she screwed herself up to the work in hand, since she could not get out of it, and answered--`I came to see your mother, sir.'
`I am afraid you cannot see her - she is an invalid,' replied the present representative of the spurious house; for this was Mr Alec, the only son of the lately deceased gentleman.`Cannot I answer your purpose? What is the business you wish to see her about?'
`It isn't business - it is - I can hardly say what!'
`Pleasure?, `Oh no.Why, sir, if I tell you, it will seem'------Tess's sense of a certain ludicrousness in her errand was now so strong that, notwithstanding her awe of him, and her general discomfort at being here, her rosy lips curved towards a smile, much to the attraction of the swarthy Alexander.
`It is so very foolish,' she stammered; `I fear I can't tell you!' `Never mind; I like foolish things.Try again, my dear,' said he kindly.
`Mother asked me to come,'Tess continued; `and, indeed, I was in the mind to do so myself likewise.But I did not think it would be like this.
I came, sir, to tell you that we are of the same family as you., `Ho! Poor relations?'
`Yes.'
`Stokes?'
`No; d'Urbervilles.'
`Ay, ay; I mean d'Urbervilles.'
`Our names are worn away to Durbeyfield; but we have several proofs that we are d'Urbervilles.Antiquarians hold we are, - and - and we have an old seal, marked with a ramping lion on a shield, and a castle over him.And we have a very old silver spoon, round in the bowl like a little ladle, and marked with the same castle.But it is so worn that mother uses it to stir the pea-soup.'
`A castle argent is certainly my crest,' said he blandly.`And my arms a lion rampant.'
`And so mother said we ought to make ourselves beknown to you - as we've lost our horse by a bad accident, and are the oldest branch o' the family.'
`Very' kind of your mother, I'm sure.And 1, for one, don't regret her step.' Alec looked at Tess as he spoke, in a way that made her blush a little.`And so, my pretty girl, you've come on a friendly visit to us, as relations?'
`I suppose I have,' faltered Tess, looking uncomfortable again.
`Well - there's no harm in it.Where do you live? What are you?'
She gave him brief particulars; and responding to further inquiries told him that she was intending to go back by the same carrier who had brought her.
`It is a long while before he returns past Trantridge Cross.Supposing we walk round the grounds to pass the time, my pretty Coz?'
Tess wished to abridge her visit as much as possible; but the young man was pressing, and she consented to accompany him.He conducted her about the lawns, and flower-beds, and conservatories; and thence to the fruit-garden and greenhouses, where he asked her if she liked strawberries.
`Yes,' said Tess, `when they come.'
