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 mediævalism, 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, and 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 labor he most desired—the Cathedral repairs, which were very extensive, the whole interior fittings having been swept away, to be replaced by new.
It might be a labor of years to get it all done, and he
