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Updated: June 20, 2025
"I never thought of resuming it; for I was getting on as an art-designer." "DO let me ask Mr. Phillotson to let you try your hand in his school? If you like it, and go to a training college, and become a first-class certificated mistress, you get twice as large an income as any designer or church artist, and twice as much freedom." "Well ask him. Now I must go in. Good-bye, dear Jude!
Their talk proceeded but awkwardly till they reached Alfredston. That Sue was not as she had been, but was labelled "Phillotson," paralyzed Jude whenever he wanted to commune with her as an individual. Yet she seemed unaltered he could not say why. There remained the five-mile extra journey into the country, which it was just as easy to walk as to drive, the greater part of it being uphill.
She had acquiesced so readily that he wished he had not proposed it she evidently did not much care about him, though she had never once reproached him for his strange conduct in coming to her that night, and his silent disappearance. Neither had she ever said a word about her relations with Mr. Phillotson. Suddenly, however, quite a passionate letter arrived from Sue.
But the first person they encountered on entering the main street was the schoolmaster himself, whose train had arrived sooner than Sue expected. There was nothing really to demur to in her leaning on Jude's arm; but she withdrew her hand, and Jude thought that Phillotson had looked surprised. "We have been doing such a funny thing!" said she, smiling candidly.
"I have been to get my things from the college," she said an observation which he was expected to take as an answer, though it was not one. Finding her to be in this evasive mood he felt inclined to give her the information so long withheld. "You have not seen Mr. Phillotson to-day?" he ventured to inquire. "I have not.
Phillotson brought it half-way to his lips, but withdrew it in doubt at her perplexing phrases: ultimately kissing the dead pasteboard with all the passionateness, and more than all the devotion, of a young man of eighteen. The schoolmaster's was an unhealthy-looking, old-fashioned face, rendered more old-fashioned by his style of shaving.
"She has gone away under circumstances that usually call for condolence with the husband. But I gave my consent." The chairman looked as if he had not apprehended the remark. "What I say is quite true," Phillotson continued testily. "She asked leave to go away with her lover, and I let her. Why shouldn't I? A woman of full age, it was a question of her own conscience not for me.
Her nervous manner, begotten of a fear lest he should be injured by her course, might have been interpreted by a stranger as displeasure that Phillotson intruded his presence on her for the few brief minutes that remained. "You had better have a slice of ham or an egg, or something with your tea? You can't travel on a mouthful of bread and butter."
That's the bitterness of it! Well, I won't stay. I have a long walk before me." Gillingham accompanied his friend a mile on his way, and at parting expressed his hope that this consultation, singular as its subject was, would be the renewal of their old comradeship. "Stick to her!" were his last words, flung into the darkness after Phillotson; from which his friend answered "Aye, aye!"
He was Richard Phillotson, who had recently removed from the mixed village school at Lumsdon near Christminster, to undertake a large boys' school in his native town of Shaston, which stood on a hill sixty miles to the south-west as the crow flies.
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