“If you were only to appear in a ball-room!” he said.  “But no—­no, dearest; I think I love you best in the wing-bonnet and cotton-frock—­yes, better than in this, well as you support these dignities.”

Tess’s sense of her striking appearance had given her a flush of excitement, which was yet not happiness.

“I’ll take them off,” she said, “in case Jonathan should see me.  They are not fit for me, are they?  They must be sold, I suppose?”

“Let them stay a few minutes longer.  Sell them?  Never.  It would be a breach of faith.”

Influenced by a second thought she readily obeyed.  She had something to tell, and there might be help in these.  She sat down with the jewels upon her; and they again indulged in conjectures as to where Jonathan could possibly be with their baggage.  The ale they had poured out for his consumption when he came had gone flat with long standing.

Shortly after this they began supper, which was already laid on a side-table.  Ere they had finished there was a jerk in the fire-smoke, the rising skein of which bulged out into the room, as if some giant had laid his hand on the chimney-top for a moment.  It had been caused by the opening of the outer door.  A heavy step was now heard in the passage, and Angel went out.

“I couldn’ make nobody hear at all by knocking,” apologized Jonathan Kail, for it was he at last; “and as’t was raining out I opened the door.  I’ve brought the things, sir.”

“I am very glad to see them.  But you are very late.”

“Well, yes, sir.”

There was something subdued in Jonathan Kail’s tone which had not been there in the day, and lines of concern were ploughed upon his forehead in addition to the lines of years.  He continued—­

“We’ve all been gallied at the dairy at what might ha’ been a most terrible affliction since you and your Mis’ess—­so to name her now—­left us this a’ternoon.  Perhaps you ha’nt forgot the cock’s afternoon crow?”

“Dear me;—­what—­”

“Well, some says it do mane one thing, and some another; but what’s happened is that poor little Retty Priddle hev tried to drown herself.”

“No!  Really!  Why, she bade us goodbye with the rest—­”

“Yes.  Well, sir, when you and your Mis’ess—­so to name what she lawful is—­when you two drove away, as I say, Retty and Marian put on their bonnets and went out; and as there is not much doing now, being New Year’s Eve, and folks mops and brooms from what’s inside ’em, nobody took much notice.  They went on to Lew-Everard, where they had summut to drink, and then on they vamped to Dree-armed Cross, and there they seemed to have parted, Retty striking across the water-meads as if for home, and Marian going on to the next village, where there’s another public-house.  Nothing more was zeed or heard o’ Retty till the waterman, on his way home, noticed something by the Great Pool; ’twas her bonnet and shawl packed up.  In the water he found her.  He and another man brought her home, thinking a’ was dead; but she fetched round by degrees.”