"Then don't let us talk of it any more. It is quite spoiling our
evening together. What does it matter about what one is going to do
two years hence!"
She was something of a riddle to him, and he let the subject drift
away. "Shall we go and sit in the cathedral?" he asked, when their
meal was finished.
"Cathedral? Yes. Though I think I'd rather sit in the railway
station," she answered, a remnant of vexation still in her voice.
"That's the centre of the town life now. The cathedral has had its
day!"
"How modern you are!"
"So would you be if you had lived so much in the Middle Ages as I
have done these last few years! The cathedral was a very good place
four or five centuries ago; but it is played out now... I am not
modern, either. I am more ancient than mediaevalism, if you only
knew."
Jude looked distressed.
"There--I won't say any more of that!" she cried. "Only you don't
know how bad I am, from your point of view, or you wouldn't think so
much of me, or care whether I was engaged or not. Now there's just
time for us to walk round the Close, then I must go in, or I shall be
locked out for the night."
He took her to the gate and they parted. Jude had a conviction that
his unhappy visit to her on that sad night had precipitated this
marriage engagement, and it did anything but add to his happiness.
Her reproach had taken that shape, then, and not the shape of words.
However, next day he set about seeking employment, which it was not
so easy to get as at Christminster, there being, as a rule, less
stone-cutting in progress in this quiet city, and hands being mostly
permanent. But he edged himself in by degrees. His first work was
some carving at the cemetery on the hill; and ultimately he became
engaged on the labour he most desired--the cathedral repairs, which
were very extensive, the whole interior stonework having been
overhauled, to be largely replaced by new. It might be a labour of
years to get it all done, and he had confidence enough in his own
skill with the mallet and chisel to feel that it would be a matter of
choice with himself how long he would stay.
The lodgings he took near the Close Gate would not have disgraced a
curate, the rent representing a higher percentage on his wages than
mechanics of any sort usually care to pay. His combined bed and
sitting-room was furnished with framed photographs of the rectories
and deaneries at which his landlady had lived as trusted servant in
her time, and the parlour downstairs bore a clock on the mantelpiece
inscribed to the effect that it was presented to the same
serious-minded woman by her fellow-servants on the occasion of her
marriage. Jude added to the furniture of his room by unpacking
photographs of the ecclesiastical carvings and monuments that he
had executed with his own hands; and he was deemed a satisfactory
acquisition as tenant of the vacant apartment.