Jude the Obsure

In sad wet seasons, though he knew it must rain at Christminster too,

he could hardly believe that it rained so drearily there. Whenever

he could get away from the confines of the hamlet for an hour or two,

which was not often, he would steal off to the Brown House on the

hill and strain his eyes persistently; sometimes to be rewarded by

the sight of a dome or spire, at other times by a little smoke, which

in his estimate had some of the mysticism of incense.

Then the day came when it suddenly occurred to him that if he

ascended to the point of view after dark, or possibly went a mile or

two further, he would see the night lights of the city. It would be

necessary to come back alone, but even that consideration did not

deter him, for he could throw a little manliness into his mood, no

doubt.

The project was duly executed. It was not late when he arrived at

the place of outlook, only just after dusk, but a black north-east

sky, accompanied by a wind from the same quarter, made the occasion

dark enough. He was rewarded; but what he saw was not the lamps in

rows, as he had half expected. No individual light was visible, only

a halo or glow-fog over-arching the place against the black heavens

behind it, making the light and the city seem distant but a mile or

so.

He set himself to wonder on the exact point in the glow where the

schoolmaster might be--he who never communicated with anybody at

Marygreen now; who was as if dead to them here. In the glow he

seemed to see Phillotson promenading at ease, like one of the forms

in Nebuchadnezzar's furnace.

He had heard that breezes travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour,

and the fact now came into his mind. He parted his lips as he faced

the north-east, and drew in the wind as if it were a sweet liquor.

"You," he said, addressing the breeze caressingly "were in

Christminster city between one and two hours ago, floating along the

streets, pulling round the weather-cocks, touching Mr. Phillotson's

face, being breathed by him; and now you are here, breathed by

me--you, the very same."

Suddenly there came along this wind something towards him--a message

from the place--from some soul residing there, it seemed. Surely it

was the sound of bells, the voice of the city, faint and musical,

calling to him, "We are happy here!"

He had become entirely lost to his bodily situation during this

mental leap, and only got back to it by a rough recalling. A few

yards below the brow of the hill on which he paused a team of horses

made its appearance, having reached the place by dint of half an

hour's serpentine progress from the bottom of the immense declivity.

They had a load of coals behind them--a fuel that could only be got

into the upland by this particular route. They were accompanied by a

carter, a second man, and a boy, who now kicked a large stone behind

one of the wheels, and allowed the panting animals to have a long

rest, while those in charge took a flagon off the load and indulged

in a drink round.