The Lady of Shalott

The Lady of Shalott
The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
¡¡¡¡He emitted a laboured breath, as if the scene were getting rather oppressive to his heart, or to his conscience, or to his gentility. ¡¡¡¡`Well, you are absurdly melancholy, Tess. I have no reason for flattering you now, and I can say plainly that you need not be so sad. You can hold your own for beauty against any woman of these parts, gentle or simple; I say, it to you as a practical man and well-wisher. If you are wise you will it to the world more than you do before it fades... And yet, Tess, will you come back to me? Upon my soul I don't like to let you go like this!' ¡¡¡¡`Never, never! I made up my mind as soon as I saw - what I ought to have seen sooner; and I won't come.' ¡¡¡¡`Then good morning, my four months' cousin - good-bye!' ¡¡¡¡He leapt up lightly, arranged the reins, and was gone between the tall red-berried hedges. ¡¡¡¡Tess did not look after him, but slowly wound along the crooked lane. It was still early, and though the sun's lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet. There was not a human soul near. Sad October and her sadder self seemed the only two existences haunting that lane. ¡¡¡¡As she walked, however, some footsteps approached behind her, the footsteps of a man; and owing to the briskness of his advance he was close at her heels and had said `Good morning' before she had been long aware of his propinquity. He appeared to be an artisan of some sort, and carried a tin pot of red paint in his hand. He asked in a business-like manner if he should take her basket, which she permitted him to do, walking beside him.