Jude the Obsure

The voice, though positive and silvery, had been tremulous. They

walked on in parallel lines, and, waiting her pleasure, Jude watched

till she showed signs of closing in, when he did likewise, the place

being where the carriers' carts stood in the daytime, though there

was none on the spot then.

"I am sorry that I asked you to meet me, and didn't call," began Jude

with the bashfulness of a lover. "But I thought it would save time

if we were going to walk."

"Oh--I don't mind that," she said with the freedom of a friend. "I

have really no place to ask anybody in to. What I meant was that the

place you chose was so horrid--I suppose I ought not to say horrid--I

mean gloomy and inauspicious in its associations... But isn't it

funny to begin like this, when I don't know you yet?" She looked him

up and down curiously, though Jude did not look much at her.

"You seem to know me more than I know you," she added.

"Yes--I have seen you now and then."

"And you knew who I was, and didn't speak? And now I am going away!"

"Yes. That's unfortunate. I have hardly any other friend. I have,

indeed, one very old friend here somewhere, but I don't quite like

to call on him just yet. I wonder if you know anything of him--Mr.

Phillotson? A parson somewhere about the county I think he is."

"No--I only know of one Mr. Phillotson. He lives a little way out in

the country, at Lumsdon. He's a village schoolmaster."

"Ah! I wonder if he's the same. Surely it is impossible! Only a

schoolmaster still! Do you know his Christian name--is it Richard?"

"Yes--it is; I've directed books to him, though I've never seen him."

"Then he couldn't do it!"

Jude's countenance fell, for how could he succeed in an enterprise

wherein the great Phillotson had failed? He would have had a day of

despair if the news had not arrived during his sweet Sue's presence,

but even at this moment he had visions of how Phillotson's failure in

the grand university scheme would depress him when she had gone.

"As we are going to take a walk, suppose we go and call upon him?"

said Jude suddenly. "It is not late."

She agreed, and they went along up a hill, and through some prettily

wooded country. Presently the embattled tower and square turret

of the church rose into the sky, and then the school-house. They

inquired of a person in the street if Mr. Phillotson was likely to

be at home, and were informed that he was always at home. A knock

brought him to the school-house door, with a candle in his hand and a

look of inquiry on his face, which had grown thin and careworn since

Jude last set eyes on him.