Jude replied that he had not the least objection to her going. He

thought it a wise course, since she wished to go, and one that might

be to the advantage of both. He enclosed in the packet containing

the letter the money that had been realized by the sale of the pig,

with all he had besides, which was not much.

From that day he heard no more of her except indirectly, though her

father and his household did not immediately leave, but waited till

his goods and other effects had been sold off. When Jude learnt

that there was to be an auction at the house of the Donns he packed

his own household goods into a waggon, and sent them to her at the

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aforesaid homestead, that she might sell them with the rest, or as

many of them as she should choose.

He then went into lodgings at Alfredston, and saw in a shopwindow the

little handbill announcing the sale of his father-in-law's furniture.

He noted its date, which came and passed without Jude's going near

the place, or perceiving that the traffic out of Alfredston by

the southern road was materially increased by the auction. A few

days later he entered a dingy broker's shop in the main street

of the town, and amid a heterogeneous collection of saucepans, a

clothes-horse, rolling-pin, brass candlestick, swing looking-glass,

and other things at the back of the shop, evidently just brought in

from a sale, he perceived a framed photograph, which turned out to be

his own portrait.

It was one which he had had specially taken and framed by a local man

in bird's-eye maple, as a present for Arabella, and had duly given

her on their wedding-day. On the back was still to be read, "_Jude

to Arabella_," with the date. She must have thrown it in with the

rest of her property at the auction.

"Oh," said the broker, seeing him look at this and the other articles

in the heap, and not perceiving that the portrait was of himself:

"It is a small lot of stuff that was knocked down to me at a cottage

sale out on the road to Marygreen. The frame is a very useful one,

if you take out the likeness. You shall have it for a shilling."

The utter death of every tender sentiment in his wife, as brought

home to him by this mute and undesigned evidence of her sale of

his portrait and gift, was the conclusive little stroke required

to demolish all sentiment in him. He paid the shilling, took the

photograph away with him, and burnt it, frame and all, when he

reached his lodging.




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