Jude the Obsure

They reached the Brown House barn--the point at which he had planned

to turn back. While looking over the vast northern landscape from

this spot they were struck by the rising of a dense volume of smoke

from the neighbourhood of the little town which lay beneath them at a

distance of a couple of miles.

"It is a fire," said Arabella. "Let's run and see it--do! It is not

far!"

The tenderness which had grown up in Jude's bosom left him no will to

thwart her inclination now--which pleased him in affording him excuse

for a longer time with her. They started off down the hill almost at

a trot; but on gaining level ground at the bottom, and walking a

mile, they found that the spot of the fire was much further off than

it had seemed.

Having begun their journey, however, they pushed on; but it was not

till five o'clock that they found themselves on the scene,--the

distance being altogether about half-a-dozen miles from Marygreen,

and three from Arabella's. The conflagration had been got under

by the time they reached it, and after a short inspection of the

melancholy ruins they retraced their steps--their course lying

through the town of Alfredston.

Arabella said she would like some tea, and they entered an inn of an

inferior class, and gave their order. As it was not for beer they

had a long time to wait. The maid-servant recognized Jude, and

whispered her surprise to her mistress in the background, that he,

the student "who kept hisself up so particular," should have suddenly

descended so low as to keep company with Arabella. The latter

guessed what was being said, and laughed as she met the serious and

tender gaze of her lover--the low and triumphant laugh of a careless

woman who sees she is winning her game.

They sat and looked round the room, and at the picture of Samson and

Delilah which hung on the wall, and at the circular beer-stains on

the table, and at the spittoons underfoot filled with sawdust. The

whole aspect of the scene had that depressing effect on Jude which

few places can produce like a tap-room on a Sunday evening when

the setting sun is slanting in, and no liquor is going, and the

unfortunate wayfarer finds himself with no other haven of rest.

It began to grow dusk. They could not wait longer, really, for the

tea, they said. "Yet what else can we do?" asked Jude. "It is a

three-mile walk for you."

"I suppose we can have some beer," said Arabella.