August was hot. At midday the landscape seemed paralysed by the heat. Angel found the heat oppressive, but he was even more troubled by his growing passion for the soft and silent Tess.

Now they milked the cows in the fields, for coolness and convenience. One afternoon, at milking-time, Angel found Tess in a secluded corner of the field, milking one of the cows. He placed his stool beside a nearby cow and sat down. But he did not start milking. Instead he watched Tess. She was leaning her cheek against the flank of the cow. Her face in profile was like a delicate cameo against the brown background of the cow. Her eyes gazed dreamily off to the horizon. The picture was still, except for Tess's hands, which moved gently and rhythmically, like the beating of a heart.

How lovable her face was to him. It was full of vitality and warmth. He loved her eloquent eyes, her fair skin, her arched brows, and the beautiful shape of her chin and throat. Above all he loved her mouth. It reminded him of that image in Elizabethan poetry of the beloved's lips and teeth like roses filled with snow. He was tempted to call Tess's mouth perfect, but no, it was not perfect. And that touch of imperfection gave it sweetness and humanity.

Overcome with emotion, Angel leapt up and knelt beside her. He put his arms around her. She was surprised, but, when she saw it was he, she yielded to his embrace with a cry of pleasure.

'Forgive me, Tess dear!' he whispered. 'I should have asked. I love you!'

Tess's eyes filled with tears.

Just then they heard Mr Crick approaching. They went back to their milking as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. The universe had changed for Angel and Tess.

Angel's embrace had been impulsive. Afterwards he was amazed and frightened by what he had done. But now it was clear to him that she loved him. Why should he not marry her?

The next day he went to Emminster to discuss it with his family. His parents were not enthusiastic about him marrying a milkmaid. They wanted him to marry Mercy Chant, the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman.

'Ah, well!' said the Reverend Clare finally. 'I suppose a farmwoman will be a better wife for you than a fine lady. And I am glad to hear you say that she is a good Christian.'