Jude the Obsure

"I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a

little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a

very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was

like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't."

"It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits

to the city as it now exists."

"I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we

are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about

the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome,

Alexandria, and other old cities."

"But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!"

She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived

behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man

in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent

inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost

hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude,"

continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of

Jerusalem!"

"Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice.

"Jude--how seriously you are going into it!"

Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said,

with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children,

of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and

thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't

remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could

examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately;

for I am in the middle of a job out here."

"Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it

unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is

quite sceptical as to its correctness."

"No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is

called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered

Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except

that it was what you don't understand!"

"_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not).

"And I think you are quite right."

"That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively

seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster

turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself

felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not

the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at

this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was

building up thereby in the futures of both.