less, conscious that there would be a certain awkwardness in explaining his errand.
"I have been singing in the choir of a little church near Melchester," he said. And we have this week practised 'The Foot of the Cross,' which, I understand, sir, that you composed?"
"I did—a year or so ago."
"I—like it. I think it supremely beautiful."
"Ah, well—other people have said so too.. Yes, there's money in it, if I could only see about getting it published. I have other compositions to go with it, too; I wish I could bring them out, for I haven't made a five-pound note out of any of them yet. These publishing people—they want the copyright of an obscure composer's work, such as mine is, for almost less than I should have to pay a person for making a fair manuscript copy of the score. The one you speak of I have lent to various friends about here and Melchester, and so it has got to be sung a little. But music is a poor staff to lean on—I am giving it up entirely. You must go into trade if you want to make money nowadays. The wine business is what I am thinking of. This is my forthcoming list—it is not issued yet—but you can take one."
He handed Jude an advertisement list of several pages in booklet shape, ornamentally margined with a red line, in which were set forth the various clarets, champagnes, ports, sherries, and other wines with which he purposed to initiate his new venture. It took Jude rather by surprise that the man with the soul was thus and thus; and he felt that he could not open up his confidences.
They talked a little longer, but constrainedly; for when the musician found that Jude was a poor man his manner changed from what it had been while Jude's appearance and address deceived him as to his position and pursuits. Jude stammered out something about his feelings in wishing to congratulate the author on such an exalted composition, and took an embarrassed leave.
