Under the hill, and just ahead of them, was the half-dead townlet of their pilgrimage, Kingsbere, where lay those ancestors of whom her father had spoken and sung to painfulness: Kingsbere, the spot of all spots in the world which could be considered the d'Urbervilles' home, since they had resided there for full five hundred years.
A man could be seen advancing from the outskirts towards them, and when he beheld the nature of their waggon-load he quickened his steps.
`You be the woman they call Mrs Durbeyfield, I reckon?' he said to Tess's mother, who had descended to walk the remainder of the way.
She nodded.`Though widow of the late Sir John d'Urberville, poor nobleman, if I cared for my rights; and returning to the domain of his forefathers.'
`Oh? Well, I know nothing about that; but if you be Mrs Durbeyfield, I am sent to tell 'ee that the rooms you wanted be let.We didn't know you was coming till we got your letter this morning - when 'twas too late.
But no doubt you can get other lodgings somewhere.'
The man had noticed the face of Tess, which had become ash-pale at his intelligence.Her mother looked hopelessly at fault.`What shall we do now, Tess?' she said bitterly.`Here's a welcome to your ancestors' lands!
However, let's try further.'
They moved on into the town, and tried with all their might, Tess remaining with the waggon to take care of the children whilst her mother and 'Liza-Lu made inquiries.At the last return of Joan to the vehicle, an hour later, when her search for accommodation had still been fruitless, the driver of the waggon said the goods must be unloaded, as the horses were half-dead, and he was bound to return part of the way at least that night.
`Very well - unload it here,' said Joan recklessly.`I'll get shelter somewhere.'
The waggon had drawn up under the churchyard wall, in a spot screened from view, and the driver, nothing loth, soon hauled down the poor heap of household goods.This done she paid him, reducing herself to almost her last shilling thereby, and he moved off and left them, only too glad to get out of further dealings with such a family.It was a dry night, and he guessed that they would come to no harm.
Tess gazed desperately at the pile of furniture.The cold sunlight of this spring evening peered invidiously upon the crocks and kettles, upon the bunches of dried herbs shivering in the breeze, upon the brass handles of the dresser, upon the wicker-cradle they had all been rocked in, and upon the well-rubbed clock-case all of which gave out the reproachful gleam of indoor articles abandoned to the vicissitudes of a roofless exposure for which they were never made.Round about were deparked hills and slopes - now cut up into little paddocks - and the green foundations that showed where the d'Urberville mansion once had stood; also an outlying stretch of Egdon Heath that had always belonged to the estate.Hard by, the aisle of the church called the d'Urberville Aisle looked on imperturbably.
`Isn't your family vault your own freehold?' said Tess's mother, as she returned from a reconnoitre of the church and graveyard.Why of course 'tis, and that's where we will camp, girls, till the place of your ancestors finds us a roof! Now Tess and 'Liza and Abraham, you help me.We'll make a nest for these children, and then we'll have another look round.'
Tess listlessly lent a hand, and in a quarter of an hour the old four-post bedstead was dissociated from the heap of goods, and erected under the south wall of the church, the part of the building known as the d'Urberville Aisle, beneath which the huge vaults lay.Over the tester of the bedstead was a beautifully traceried window, of many lights, its date being the fifteenth century.It was called the d'Urberville Window, and in the upper part could be discerned heraldic emblems like those on Durbeyfield's old seal and spoon.
Joan drew the curtains round the bed so as to make an excellent tent of it, and put the smaller children inside.`If it comes to the worst we can sleep there too, for one night,'she said.`But let us try further on, and get something for the dears to eat! O, Tess, what's the use of your playing at marrying gentlemen, if it leaves us like this!'
Accompanied by 'Liza-Lu and the boy she again ascended the little lane which secluded the church from the townlet.As soon as they got into the street they beheld a man on horseback gazing up and down.`Ah - I'm looking for you!' he said, riding up to them.`This is indeed a family gathering on the historic spot!'
It was Alec d'Urberville.`Where is Tess?' he asked.
Personally Joan had no liking for Alec.She cursorily signified the direction of the church, and went on, d'Urberville saying that he would see them again, in case they should be still unsuccessful in their search for shelter, of which he had just heard.When they had gone d'Urberville rode to the inn, and shortly after came out on foot.
In the interim Tess, left with the children inside the bedstead, remained talking with them awhile, till, seeing that no more could be done to make them comfortable just then, she walked about the churchyard, now beginning to be embrowned by the shades of nightfall.The door of the church was unfastened, and she entered it for the first time in her life.
Within the window under which the bedstead stood were the tombs of the family, covering in their dates several centuries.They were canopied, altar-shaped, and plain; their carvings being defaced and broken; their brasses torn from the matrices, the rivet-holes remaining like martin-holes in a sand-cliff.Of all the reminders that she had ever received that her people were socially extinct there was none so forcible as this spoliation.
She drew near to a dark stone on which was inscribed: Ostium sepalchri antiquae familiae d'Urberbille.Tess did not read Church-Latin like a Cardinal, but she knew that this was the door of her ancestral sepulchre, and that the tall knights of whom her father had chanted in his cups lay inside.
