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on experiment； together with other matters which must be
interesting to a young gentleman who would one day be a
landlord； Hetty tossed and patted her pound of butter with quite a
self…possessed； coquettish air； slyly conscious that no turn of her
head was lost。
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There are various orders of beauty； causing men to make fools
of themselves in various styles； from the desperate to the sheepish；
but there is one order of beauty which seems made to turn the
heads not only of men； but of all intelligent mammals； even of
women。 It is a beauty like that of kittens； or very small downy
ducks making gentle rippling noises with their soft bills； or babies
just beginning to toddle and to engage in conscious mischief—a
beauty with which you can never be angry； but that you feel ready
to crush for inability to comprehend the state of mind into which it
throws you。 Hetty Sorrel’s was that sort of beauty。 Her aunt； Mrs。
Poyser； who professed to despise all personal attractions and
intended to be the severest of mentors； continually gazed at
Hetty’s charms by the sly； fascinated in spite of herself； and after
administering such a scolding as naturally flowed from her anxiety
to do well by her husband’s niece—who had no mother of her own
to scold her； poor thing！—she would often confess to her husband；
when they were safe out of hearing； that she firmly believed； “the
naughtier the little huzzy behaved； the prettier she looked。”
It is of little use for me to tell you that Hetty’s cheek was like a
rose…petal； that dimples played about her pouting lips； that her
large dark eyes hid a soft roguishness under their long lashes； and
that her curly hair； though all pushed back under her round cap
while she was at work； stole back in dark delicate rings on her
forehead； and about her white shell…like ears； it is of little use for
me to say how lovely was the contour of her pink…and…white
neckerchief； tucked into her low plum…coloured stuff bodice； or
how the linen butter…making apron； with its bib； seemed a thing to
be imitated in silk by duchesses； since it fell in such charming
lines； or how her brown stockings and thick…soled buckled shoes
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Adam Bede 112
lost all that clumsiness which they must certainly have had when
empty of her foot and ankle—of little use； unless you have seen a
woman who affected you as Hetty affected her beholders； for
otherwise； though you might conjure up the image of a lovely
woman； she would not in the least resemble that distracting
kitten…like maiden。 I might mention all the divine charms of a
bright spring day； but if you had never in your life utterly
forgotten yourself in straining your eyes after the mounting lark；
or in wandering through the still lanes when the fresh…opened
blossoms fill them with a sacred silent beauty like that of fretted
aisles； where would be the use of my descriptive catalogue？ I
could never make you know what I meant by a bright spring day。
Hetty’s was a spring…tide beauty； it was the beauty of young
frisking things； round…limbed； gambolling； circumventing you by a
false air of innocence—the innocence of a young star…browed calf；
for example； that； being inclined for a promenade out of bounds；
leads you a severe steeplechase over hedge and ditch； and only
comes to a stand in the middle of a bog。
And they are the prettiest attitudes and movements into which
a pretty girl is thrown in making up butter—tossing movements
that give a charming curve to the arm； and a sideward inclination
of the round white neck； little patting and rolling movements with
the palm of the hand； and nice adaptations and finishings which
cannot at all be effected without a great play of the pouting mouth
and the dark eyes。 And then the butter itself seems to
communicate a fresh charm—it is so pure； so sweet…scented； it is
turned off the mould with such a beautiful firm surface； like
marble in a pale yellow light！ Moreover； Hetty was particularly
clever at making up the butter； it was the one performance of hers
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Adam Bede 113
that her aunt allowed to pass without severe criticism； so she
handled it with all the grace that belongs to mastery。
“I hope you will be ready for a great holiday on the thirtieth of
July； Mrs。 Poyser；” said Captain Donnithorne； when he had
sufficiently admired the dairy and given several improvised
opinions on Swede turnips and shorthorns。 “You know what is to
happen then； and I shall expect you to be one of the guests who
come earliest and leave latest。 Will you promise me your hand for
two dances； Miss Hetty？ If I don’t get your promise now； I know I
shall hardly have a chance； for all the smart young farmers will
take care to secure you。”
Hetty smiled and blushed； but before she could answer； Mrs。
Poyser interposed； scandalised at the mere suggestion that the
young squire could be excluded by any meaner partners。
“Indeed； sir； you are very kind to take that notice of her。 And
I’m sure； whenever you’re pleased to dance with her； she’ll be
proud and thankful； if she stood still all the rest o’ th’ evening。”
“Oh no； no； that would be too cruel to all the other young
fellows who can dance。 But you will promise me two dances； won’t
you？” the captain continued； determined to make Hetty look at
him and speak to him。
Hetty dropped the prettiest little curtsy； and stole a half…shy；
half…coquettish glance at him as she said；