II
It was an evening at the end of the month, and Jude had just returnedhome from hearing a lecture on ancient history in the public hall notfar off. When he entered, Sue, who had been keeping indoors duringhis absence, laid out supper for him. Contrary to custom she did notspeak. Jude had taken up some illustrated paper, which he perusedtill, raising his eyes, he saw that her face was troubled.
Are you depressed, Sue? he said.
She paused a moment. I have a message for you, she answered.
Somebody has called?
Yes. A woman. Sue's voice quavered as she spoke, and she suddenlysat down from her preparations, laid her hands in her lap, and lookedinto the fire. I don't know whether I did right or not! shecontinued. I said you were not at home, and when she said she wouldwait, I said I thought you might not be able to see her.
Why did you say that, dear? I suppose she wanted a headstone. Wasshe in mourning?
No. She wasn't in mourning, and she didn't want a headstone; and Ithought you couldn't see her. Sue looked critically and imploringlyat him.
But who was she? Didn't she say?
No. She wouldn't give her name. But I know who she was--I think Ido! It was Arabella!
Heaven save us! What should Arabella come for? What made you thinkit was she?
Oh, I can hardly tell. But I know it was! I feel perfectly certainit was--by the light in her eyes as she looked at me. She was afleshy, coarse woman.
Well--I should not have called Arabella coarse exactly, except inspeech, though she may be getting so by this time under the duties ofthe public house. She was rather handsome when I knew her.
Handsome! But yes!--so she is!
I think I heard a quiver in your little mouth. Well, waiving that,as she is nothing to me, and virtuously married to another man, whyshould she come troubling us?
Are you sure she's married? Have you definite news of it?
No--not definite news. But that was why she asked me to releaseher. She and the man both wanted to lead a proper life, as Iunderstood.
Oh Jude--it was, it WAS Arabella! cried Sue, covering her eyeswith her hand. And I am so miserable! It seems such an ill omen,whatever she may have come for. You could not possibly see her,could you?
I don't really think I could. It would be so very painful to talkto her now--for her as much as for me. However, she's gone. Did shesay she would come again?
No. But she went away very reluctantly.
Sue, whom the least thing upset, could not eat any supper, and whenJude had finished his he prepared to go to bed. He had no soonerraked out the fire, fastened the doors, and got to the top of thestairs than there came a knock. Sue instantly emerged from her room,which she had but just entered.
There she is again! Sue whispered in appalled accents.
How do you know?
She knocked like that last time.
They listened, and the knocking came again. No servant was kept inthe house, and if the summons were to be responded to one of themwould have to do it in person. I'll open a window, said Jude.Whoever it is cannot be expected to be let in at this time.
He accordingly went into his bedroom and lifted the sash. The lonelystreet of early retiring workpeople was empty from end to end save ofone figure--that of a woman walking up and down by the lamp a fewyards off.
Who's there? he asked.
Is that Mr. Fawley? came up from the woman, in a voice which wasunmistakably Arabella's.
Jude replied that it was.
Is it she? asked Sue from the door, with lips apart.
Yes, dear, said Jude. What do you want, Arabella? he inquired.
I beg your pardon, Jude, for disturbing you, said Arabella humbly.But I called earlier--I wanted particularly to see you to-night, ifI could. I am in trouble, and have nobody to help me!
In trouble, are you?
Yes.
There was a silence. An inconvenient sympathy seemed to be rising inJude's breast at the appeal. But aren't you married? he said.
Arabella hesitated. No, Jude, I am not, she returned. Hewouldn't, after all. And I am in great difficulty. I hope to getanother situation as barmaid soon. But it takes time, and I reallyam in great distress because of a sudden responsibility that's beensprung upon me from Australia; or I wouldn't trouble you--believe meI wouldn't. I want to tell you about it.
Sue remained at gaze, in painful tension, hearing every word, butspeaking none.
You are not really in want of money, Arabella? he asked, in adistinctly softened tone.
I have enough to pay for the night's lodging I have obtained, butbarely enough to take me back again.
Where are you living?
In London still. She was about to give the address, but shesaid, I am afraid somebody may hear, so I don't like to call outparticulars of myself so loud. If you could come down and walka little way with me towards the Prince Inn, where I am stayingto-night, I would explain all. You may as well, for old time'ssake!
Poor thing! I must do her the kindness of hearing what's thematter, I suppose, said Jude in much perplexity. As she's goingback to-morrow it can't make much difference.
But you can go and see her to-morrow, Jude! Don't go now, Jude!came in plaintive accents from the doorway. Oh, it is only toentrap you, I know it is, as she did before! Don't go, dear! She issuch a low-passioned woman--I can see it in her shape, and hear it inher voice!
But I shall go, said Jude. Don't attempt to detain me, Sue. Godknows I love her little enough now, but I don't want to be cruel toher. He turned to the stairs.
But she's not your wife! cried Sue distractedly. And I--
And you are not either, dear, yet, said Jude.
Oh, but are you going to her? Don't! Stay at home! Please, pleasestay at home, Jude, and not go to her, now she's not your wife anymore than I!
Well, she is, rather more than you, come to that, he said, takinghis hat determinedly. I've wanted you to be, and I've waited withthe patience of Job, and I don't see that I've got anything by myself-denial. I shall certainly give her something, and hear what itis she is so anxious to tell me; no man could do less!
There was that in his manner which she knew it would be futile tooppose. She said no more, but, turning to her room as meekly as amartyr, heard him go downstairs, unbolt the door, and close itbehind him. With a woman's disregard of her dignity when in thepresence of nobody but herself, she also trotted down, sobbingarticulately as she went. She listened. She knew exactly how farit was to the inn that Arabella had named as her lodging. It wouldoccupy about seven minutes to get there at an ordinary walking pace;seven to come back again. If he did not return in fourteen minuteshe would have lingered. She looked at the clock. It was twenty-fiveminutes to eleven. He MIGHT enter the inn with Arabella, as theywould reach it before closing time; she might get him to drink withher; and Heaven only knew what disasters would befall him then.
In a still suspense she waited on. It seemed as if the whole timehad nearly elapsed when the door was opened again, and Jude appeared.
Sue gave a little ecstatic cry. Oh, I knew I could trust you!--howgood you are!--she began.
I can't find her anywhere in this street, and I went out in myslippers only. She has walked on, thinking I've been so hard-heartedas to refuse her requests entirely, poor woman. I've come back formy boots, as it is beginning to rain.
Oh, but why should you take such trouble for a woman who has servedyou so badly! said Sue in a jealous burst of disappointment.
But, Sue, she's a woman, and I once cared for her; and one can't bea brute in such circumstances.
She isn't your wife any longer! exclaimed Sue, passionatelyexcited. You MUSTN'T go out to find her! It isn't right! YouCAN'T join her, now she's a stranger to you. How can you forget sucha thing, my dear, dear one!
She seems much the same as ever--an erring, careless, unreflectingfellow-creature, he said, continuing to pull on his boots. Whatthose legal fellows have been playing at in London makes nodifference in my real relations to her. If she was my wife whileshe was away in Australia with another husband, she's my wife now.
But she wasn't! That's just what I hold! There's the absurdity!--Well--you'll come straight back, after a few minutes, won't you,dear? She is too low, too coarse for you to talk to long, Jude, andwas always!
Perhaps I am coarse too, worse luck! I have the germs of everyhuman infirmity in me, I verily believe--that was why I saw it wasso preposterous of me to think of being a curate. I have curedmyself of drunkenness I think; but I never know in what new form asuppressed vice will break out in me! I do love you, Sue, though Ihave danced attendance on you so long for such poor returns! Allthat's best and noblest in me loves you, and your freedom fromeverything that's gross has elevated me, and enabled me to do whatI should never have dreamt myself capable of, or any man, a yearor two ago. It is all very well to preach about self-control, andthe wickedness of coercing a woman. But I should just like a fewvirtuous people who have condemned me in the past, about Arabellaand other things, to have been in my tantalizing position withyou through these late weeks!--they'd believe, I think, that Ihave exercised some little restraint in always giving in to yourwishes--living here in one house, and not a soul between us.
Yes, you have been good to me, Jude; I know you have, my dearprotector.
Well--Arabella has appealed to me for help. I must go out and speakto her, Sue, at least!
I can't say any more!--Oh, if you must, you must! she said,bursting out into sobs that seemed to tear her heart. I havenobody but you, Jude, and you are deserting me! I didn't know youwere like this--I can't bear it, I can't! If she were yours itwould be different!
Or if you were.
Very well then--if I must I must. Since you will have it so, Iagree! I will be. Only I didn't mean to! And I didn't want tomarry again, either! ... But, yes--I agree, I agree! I do love you.I ought to have known that you would conquer in the long run, livinglike this!
She ran across and flung her arms round his neck. I am not acold-natured, sexless creature, am I, for keeping you at such adistance? I am sure you don't think so! Wait and see! I do belongto you, don't I? I give in!
And I'll arrange for our marriage to-morrow, or as soon as ever youwish.
Yes, Jude.
Then I'll let her go, said he, embracing Sue softly. I do feelthat it would be unfair to you to see her, and perhaps unfair to her.She is not like you, my darling, and never was: it is only barejustice to say that. Don't cry any more. There; and there; andthere! He kissed her on one side, and on the other, and in themiddle, and rebolted the front door.