Chapter: One week's end Jude was as usual walking out to his aunt's at
Marygreen from his lodging in Alfredston, a walk which now had large
attractions for him quite other than his desire to see his aged and
morose relative.  He diverged to the right before ascending the hill
with the single purpose of gaining, on his way, a glimpse of Arabella
that should not come into the reckoning of regular appointments.
Before quite reaching the homestead his alert eye perceived the top
of her head moving quickly hither and thither over the garden hedge.
Entering the gate he found that three young unfattened pigs had
escaped from their sty by leaping clean over the top, and that she
was endeavouring unassisted to drive them in through the door which
she had set open.  The lines of her countenance changed from the
rigidity of business to the softness of love when she saw Jude, and
she bent her eyes languishingly upon him.  The animals took advantage
of the pause by doubling and bolting out of the way.

"They were only put in this morning!" she cried, stimulated to pursue
in spite of her lover's presence.  "They were drove from Spaddleholt
Farm only yesterday, where Father bought 'em at a stiff price enough.
They are wanting to get home again, the stupid toads!  Will you shut
the garden gate, dear, and help me to get 'em in.  There are no men
folk at home, only Mother, and they'll be lost if we don't mind."

He set himself to assist, and dodged this way and that over the
potato rows and the cabbages.  Every now and then they ran together,
when he caught her for a moment and kissed her.  The first pig was
got back promptly; the second with some difficulty; the third a
long-legged creature, was more obstinate and agile.  He plunged
through a hole in the garden hedge, and into the lane.

"He'll be lost if I don't follow 'n!" said she.  "Come along with
me!"

She rushed in full pursuit out of the garden, Jude alongside her,
barely contriving to keep the fugitive in sight.  Occasionally they
would shout to some boy to stop the animal, but he always wriggled
past and ran on as before.

"Let me take your hand, darling," said Jude.  "You are getting out of
breath."  She gave him her now hot hand with apparent willingness,
and they trotted along together.

"This comes of driving 'em home," she remarked.  "They always know
the way back if you do that.  They ought to have been carted over."

By this time the pig had reached an unfastened gate admitting to the
open down, across which he sped with all the agility his little legs
afforded.  As soon as the pursuers had entered and ascended to the
top of the high ground it became apparent that they would have to run
all the way to the farmer's if they wished to get at him.  From this
summit he could be seen as a minute speck, following an unerring line
towards his old home.

"It is no good!" cried Arabella.  "He'll be there long before we get
there.  It don't matter now we know he's not lost or stolen on the
way.  They'll see it is ours, and send un back.  Oh dear, how hot I
be!"

Without relinquishing her hold of Jude's hand she swerved aside and
flung herself down on the sod under a stunted thorn, precipitately
pulling Jude on to his knees at the same time.

"Oh, I ask pardon--I nearly threw you down, didn't I!  But I am so
tired!"

She lay supine, and straight as an arrow, on the sloping sod of this
hill-top, gazing up into the blue miles of sky, and still retaining
her warm hold of Jude's hand.  He reclined on his elbow near her.

"We've run all this way for nothing," she went on, her form heaving
and falling in quick pants, her face flushed, her full red lips
parted, and a fine dew of perspiration on her skin.  "Well--why don't
you speak, deary?"

"I'm blown too.  It was all up hill."

They were in absolute solitude--the most apparent of all solitudes,
that of empty surrounding space.  Nobody could be nearer than a mile
to them without their seeing him.  They were, in fact, on one of the
summits of the county, and the distant landscape around Christminster
could be discerned from where they lay.  But Jude did not think of
that then.

"Oh, I can see such a pretty thing up this tree," said Arabella.  "A
sort of a--caterpillar, of the most loveliest green and yellow you
ever came across!"

"Where?" said Jude, sitting up.

"You can't see him there--you must come here," said she.

He bent nearer and put his head in front of hers.  "No--I can't see
it," he said.

"Why, on the limb there where it branches off--close to the moving
leaf--there!"  She gently pulled him down beside her.

"I don't see it," he repeated, the back of his head against her
cheek.  "But I can, perhaps, standing up."  He stood accordingly,
placing himself in the direct line of her gaze.

"How stupid you are!" she said crossly, turning away her face.

"I don't care to see it, dear: why should I?" he replied looking
down upon her.  "Get up, Abby."

"Why?"

"I want you to let me kiss you.  I've been waiting to ever so long!"

She rolled round her face, remained a moment looking deedily aslant
at him; then with a slight curl of the lip sprang to her feet, and
exclaiming abruptly "I must mizzle!" walked off quickly homeward.
Jude followed and rejoined her.

"Just one!" he coaxed.

"Shan't!" she said.

He, surprised: "What's the matter?"

She kept her two lips resentfully together, and Jude followed her
like a pet lamb till she slackened her pace and walked beside him,
talking calmly on indifferent subjects, and always checking him if
he tried to take her hand or clasp her waist.  Thus they descended
to the precincts of her father's homestead, and Arabella went in,
nodding good-bye to him with a supercilious, affronted air.

"I expect I took too much liberty with her, somehow," Jude said to
himself, as he withdrew with a sigh and went on to Marygreen.

On Sunday morning the interior of Arabella's home was, as usual,
the scene of a grand weekly cooking, the preparation of the special
Sunday dinner.  Her father was shaving before a little glass hung on
the mullion of the window, and her mother and Arabella herself were
shelling beans hard by.  A neighbour passed on her way home from
morning service at the nearest church, and seeing Donn engaged at
the window with the razor, nodded and came in.

She at once spoke playfully to Arabella: "I zeed 'ee running with
'un--hee-hee! I hope 'tis coming to something?"

Arabella merely threw a look of consciousness into her face without
raising her eyes.

"He's for Christminster, I hear, as soon as he can get there."

"Have you heard that lately--quite lately?" asked Arabella with a
jealous, tigerish indrawing of breath.

"Oh no!  But it has been known a long time that it is his plan.  He's
on'y waiting here for an opening.  Ah well: he must walk about with
somebody, I s'pose.  Young men don't mean much now-a-days. 'Tis a sip
here and a sip there with 'em.  'Twas different in my time."

When the gossip had departed Arabella said suddenly to her mother:
"I want you and Father to go and inquire how the Edlins be, this
evening after tea.  Or no--there's evening service at Fensworth--you
can walk to that."

"Oh?  What's up to-night, then?"

"Nothing.  Only I want the house to myself.  He's shy; and I can't
get un to come in when you are here.  I shall let him slip through my
fingers if I don't mind, much as I care for 'n!"

"If it is fine we med as well go, since you wish."

In the afternoon Arabella met and walked with Jude, who had now
for weeks ceased to look into a book of Greek, Latin, or any other
tongue.  They wandered up the slopes till they reached the green
track along the ridge, which they followed to the circular British
earth-bank adjoining, Jude thinking of the great age of the trackway,
and of the drovers who had frequented it, probably before the Romans
knew the country.  Up from the level lands below them floated the
chime of church bells.  Presently they were reduced to one note,
which quickened, and stopped.

"Now we'll go back," said Arabella, who had attended to the sounds.

Jude assented.  So long as he was near her he minded little where he
was.  When they arrived at her house he said lingeringly: "I won't
come in.  Why are you in such a hurry to go in to-night?  It is not
near dark."

"Wait a moment," said she.  She tried the handle of the door and
found it locked.

"Ah--they are gone to church," she added.  And searching behind the
scraper she found the key and unlocked the door.  "Now, you'll come
in a moment?" she asked lightly.  "We shall be all alone."

"Certainly," said Jude with alacrity, the case being unexpectedly
altered.

Indoors they went.  Did he want any tea?  No, it was too late: he
would rather sit and talk to her.  She took off her jacket and hat,
and they sat down--naturally enough close together.

"Don't touch me, please," she said softly.  "I am part egg-shell. Or
perhaps I had better put it in a safe place."  She began unfastening
the collar of her gown.

"What is it?" said her lover.

"An egg--a cochin's egg.  I am hatching a very rare sort.  I carry it
about everywhere with me, and it will get hatched in less than three
weeks."

"Where do you carry it?"

"Just here."  She put her hand into her bosom and drew out the egg,
which was wrapped in wool, outside it being a piece of pig's bladder,
in case of accidents.  Having exhibited it to him she put it back,
"Now mind you don't come near me.  I don't want to get it broke, and
have to begin another."

"Why do you do such a strange thing?"

"It's an old custom.  I suppose it is natural for a woman to want to
bring live things into the world."

"It is very awkward for me just now," he said, laughing.

"It serves you right.  There--that's all you can have of me"

She had turned round her chair, and, reaching over the back of it,
presented her cheek to him gingerly.

"That's very shabby of you!"

"You should have catched me a minute ago when I had put the egg down!
There!" she said defiantly, "I am without it now!"  She had quickly
withdrawn the egg a second time; but before he could quite reach her
she had put it back as quickly, laughing with the excitement of her
strategy.  Then there was a little struggle, Jude making a plunge for
it and capturing it triumphantly.  Her face flushed; and becoming
suddenly conscious he flushed also.

They looked at each other, panting; till he rose and said: "One kiss,
now I can do it without damage to property; and I'll go!"

But she had jumped up too.  "You must find me first!" she cried.

Her lover followed her as she withdrew.  It was now dark inside the
room, and the window being small he could not discover for a long
time what had become of her, till a laugh revealed her to have rushed
up the stairs, whither Jude rushed at her heels.

 One evening Jude happens to meet Arabella, who is chasing some pigs that have escaped from their sty. At this time Arabella flirts outrageously with Jude and leads him on, but Jude does not take advantage of the situation. As a result, Arabella displays her irritation. She tries a second time. The next day she contrives to get her parents out of the house for the evening so that she can bring Jude in and spend some time alone with him. After a walk she invites him inside and plays a game of seduction with him. She informs Jude that she is performing an ancient custom of hiding a hen's egg inside her bodice to make it hatch. She manages to tantalize and tease him in this manner until Jude is carried away by passion and makes love to her. Hardy makes it clear that Arabella's seduction has led to the consummation of their passion.

