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 ‘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 inclined to do so myself likewise. But I did not think it would be like this. I came, sir, to tell you that we be of the same family as you.’

‘Ho! Poor relations?’

‘Yes!’

‘Stokes?’

‘No; D'Urbervilles.’

‘Ay, ay; I mean D'Urbervilles.’

‘Our names are corrupted to Durbeyfield; but we have several proofs that we be D'Urbervilles. Antiquarians say we are,—and—and we have an old seal, and a very old silver spoon, round in the bowl, like a little ladle, with a ramping lion on