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A New Life 8

And so it was that on a beautiful morning in May，two to three years after her return from Trantridge，Tess Durbeyfield left home for the second time．She was going in the opposite direction this time．When she reached the first hill，she looked back at Marlott and her father's house with sadness in her heart．

She travelled partly by carriage and partly on foot，carrying her basket．Not far to her left she could see the trees which surrounded Kingsbere，with its church where her ancestors lay in their tombs．She could no longer admire or respect them． She almost hated them for ruining her life．Nothing of theirs was left except the old seal and spoon．

‘Huh！I have as much of mother as father in me！’she said．‘All my prettiness comes from her，and she was only a dairymaid．’

Her walk took two hours，until she reached the hill overlooking the Valley of the Great Dairies． This valley was watered by the river Froom，and produced huge amounts of milk and butter，more even than Tess's Vale of Blackmoor， which was known as the Vale of Little Dairies．

As she stood and looked，she realized the valleys were quite different．Here the fields and farms were much larger． She saw more cows at a glance than she had ever seen before．The evening sun shone on their red，white and brown bodies．She thought that this view was perhaps not as beautiful as a view of Blackmoor Vale，which she knew so well．There the sky was deep blue，the smell of the earth was heavy in the air，the streams ran slowly and silently．But this view was more cheerful． Here the air was clear and light， and the river Froom rushed as fast as the shadow of a cloud．

Either the change in the quality of the air，or the feeling that she was going to start a new life here， made her feel much happier．She ran along， her hopes and the sunshine warming her．

She looked at her best as she ran laughing into the warm wind．The desire for pleasure， which is in every living thing， had finally won over Tess． She was，after all，only a young woman of twenty， who had not finished growing up． No event，however unpleasant，could have marked her for ever． She was young and strong and beautiful， and could not remain sad for long．

Her hopes rose higher than ever． She wanted to show how grateful she was for this second chance．She started singing love songs，but found they were not enough to express her feelings．She remembered the Sunday mornings of her girlhood，and sang：‘Oh sun and moon… Oh stars… Oh children of men… Praise the Lord！ Praise Him for ever！’ until she stopped suddenly and murmured， ‘But perhaps I don't quite know the Lord yet．’

This was probably a pagan feeling in a religious form． People who live in the country and are close to nature， like Tess，keep many of the pagan ideas of their ancestors in their souls．Religion learned in church comes much later， and does not touch them deeply．

Tess was happy to be making her way independently in life． She really wanted to live honestly and work hard，unlike her father．Tess had her mother's energy and the energy of her youth to help her recover from her experience． Women do usually live through such experiences．‘Where there's life there's hope’ is still true for most‘betrayed’women．

As Tess，full of enthusiasm，came downhill towards the dairy，she suddenly heard the milking call，again and again， from all parts of the valley．It was half－past four， when the dairy people brought in the cows． Tess followed the red and white animals，with their great bags of milk under them，into the farmyard． She saw the long sheds， and the wooden posts， shining and smooth where the cows had rubbed against them over the years． She saw the cows between the posts，the sun throwing their shadows on the wall as carefully as a painter paints a beautiful king or queen．As the cows waited for their turn，the milk fell in drops on the ground．

The dairymaids and men had come from their cottages as they saw the cows arriving from the fields． Each girl sat on her three－legged stool as she milked，her right cheek resting on the cow's body，watching Tess arrive．The men milked with their hats low over their eyes and did not see her．One of them was a middle－aged man，the head－dairyman she was looking for．He worked six days a week in his white milking clothes， milking and butter－making， and on the seventh he wore his best suit to take his family proudly to church． Because of this people nearby used to say：

Dairyman Dick All the week，On Sundays Mister Richard Crick．

Most dairymen are usually bad－tempered at milking time， but Mr Crick was glad to get a new dairymaid at this busy time of the year．So he received Tess warmly and asked her how her family were．

‘When I was a boy I knew your part of the country very well，’be said．‘An old woman of ninety—she's dead now but she used to live near here—she once told me there was an ancient noble family of a name like yours，who came from here originally．But I didn't take any notice of an old woman like that．’

‘Oh no， that's just a story，’said Tess．

Then Mr Crick turned to business．‘You can milk well，my girl？I don't want my cows drying up，especially just now．’

‘Oh yes，I can，’answered Tess．

He looked at her delicate hands and pale face．

‘Quite sure you're strong enough for this sort of life？ It's comfortable enough here for rough country people but it's hard work．’

‘Oh yes，I'm strong enough． I'm used to hard work，’Tess insisted．

‘Well，have some tea and something to eat．You've had a long journey，’he said kindly．

‘No，I'd rather begin milking straight away，’said Tess． ‘I'll just drink a little milk first．’

This surprised Dairyman Crick，who appeared never to have thought of milk as a drink．

‘Oh，if you can swallow it，have some，’he said，holding the bucket for her to drink from．‘I haven't touched any for years． It would lie in my stomach like a stone，so it would． Now，try that one and see how you get on．’And he pointed to the nearest cow．

As soon as Tess was on her stool under the cow， and the milk was pouring between her fingers into the bucket，she really felt that her new life was beginning． As she relaxed，she looked around her．

It was a large dairy．There were nearly a hundred milking cows．Dairyman Crick milked six or eight of the difficult ones with his own hands． He could not trust them to the dairymaids， because if the cows were badly milked their milk would simply dry up．

For a while there was no more talk among the milkers． Suddenly Mr Crick got up from his stool．

We're not getting as much milk from them as usual，’he said．‘We'd better sing them a song， friends， that's the only thing to do．’So the group of milkers started singing，to encourage the cows to give more．

Mr Crick went on，‘But I think bulls like music better than cows．Did I tell you all about William Dewy？ On his way home after a wedding he found himself in a field with an angry bull． He took his violin and played some Christmas church music and down went the bull on his knees！ Just like the animals around baby Jesus！ And so William was able to escape．’

‘It's a curious story．It takes us back to the past，when belief in God was a living thing．’This unusual remark came from under a cow．

‘Well， it's quite true， sir， believe it or not．I knew the man well，’said Mr Crick．

‘Oh yes， I'm sure it's true，’said the man behind the brown cow．Tess could not see his face，and could not understand why the head－dairyman himself should call him sir．The man stayed under the cow long enough to milk three，at times saying something angrily to himself．Then he stood up， stretching his arms．Tess could now see him clearly． He wore the clothes of a dairyman but underneath he was quite different．He looked educated and gentlemanly．

But now she realized that she had seen him before． He was one of the three walking brothers who had stopped their walk to admire the May－Day dance in Marlott a few years before． He had danced with some of the other girls but not with her． He had not noticed her and had gone on his way． For a moment she was worried that if he recognized her he might discover her story． But she soon saw he did not remember her at all． Since she had seen him in Marlott，his face had grown more thoughtful． He now had a young man's moustache and beard． From the time he had spent milking one cow，he was clearly a beginner at dairy work．

Tess discovered that only two or three of the dairymaids slept in the house，besides herself．They all shared a big bedroom near the cheese room． That night one of the girls insisted on telling Tess about all the people at the dairy． To Tess，half asleep， the whispers seemed to be floating in the air．

‘Mr Angel Clare—he's the one who's learning milking— he's a parson's son and thinks a lot and doesn't notice girls． His father is parson at Emminster，some way from here．His sons，except Mr Clare，are going to be parsons too．’

Tess gradually fell asleep．