pulled down, and in her preoccupation forgot the new one.
'Up here,' said Phillotson; and presently the tower loomed large and solemn in the fog. The vicar had already crossed to the building, and when they entered he said pleasantly: 'We almost want candles.'
'You do—wish me to be yours, Richard?' gasped Sue in a whisper.
'Certainly, dear: above all things in the world.'
Sue said no more; and for the second or third time he felt he was not quite following out the humane instinct which had induced him to let her go.
There they stood, five altogether: the parson, the clerk, the couple, and Gillingham; and the holy ordinance was resolemnized forthwith. In the nave of the edifice were two or three villagers, and when the clergyman came to the words, 'What God hath joined,' a woman's voice from among these was heard to utter audibly:
'God hath jined indeed!'
It was like a re-enactment by the ghosts of their former selves of the similar scene which had taken place at Melchester years before. When the books were signed the vicar congratulated the husband and wife on having performed a noble, and righteous, and mutually forgiving act. 'All's well that ends well,' he said smiling. 'May you long be happy together, after thus having been 'saved as by fire.''
They came down the nearly empty building, and crossed to the schoolhouse. Gillingham wanted to get home that night, and left early. He, too, congratulated the couple. 'Now,' he said in parting from Phillotson, who walked out a little way, 'I shall be able to tell the people in your native place a good round tale; and they'll all say 'Well done,' depend on it.'
When the schoolmaster got back Sue was making a pretence of doing some housewifery as if she lived there. But she seemed timid at his approach, and compunction wrought on him at sight of it.
'Of course, my dear, I shan't expect to intrude upon your personal privacy any more than I did before,' he said gravely. 'It is for our good socially to do this, and that's its justification, if it was not my reason.' Sue brightened a little.
VI
The place was the door of Jude's lodging in the out-skirts of Christminster—far from the precincts of St. Silas' where he had formerly lived, which saddened him to sickness. The rain was coming down. A woman in shabby black stood on the doorstep talking to Jude, who held the door in his hand.
'I am lonely, destitute, and houseless—that's what I am! Father has turned me out of doors after borrowing every penny I'd got, to put it into his business, and then accusing me of laziness when I was only waiting for a situation. I am at the mercy of the world! If you can't take me and help me, Jude, I must go to the workhouse, or to something worse. Only just now two undergraduates winked at me as I came along. 'Tis hard for a woman to keep virtuous where there's so many young men!'
The woman in the rain who spoke thus was Arabella, the evening being that of the day after Sue's remarriage with Phillotson.
'I am sorry for you, but I am only in lodgings,' said Jude coldly.
'Then you turn me away?'
'I'll give you enough to get food and lodging for a few days.'
'Oh, but can't you have the kindness to take me in? I cannot endure going to a public house to lodge; and I am so lonely. Please, Jude, for old times' sake!'
'No, no,' said Jude hastily. 'I don't want to be reminded of those things; and if you talk about them I shall not help you.'
'Then I suppose I must go!' said Arabella. She bent her head against the doorpost and began sobbing.
'The house is full,' said Jude. 'And I have only a little extra room to my own—not much more than a closet —where I keep my tools, and templates, and the few books I have left!'
'That would be a palace for me!'
'There is no bedstead in it.'
'A bit of a bed could be made on the floor. It would be good enough for me.'
Unable to be harsh with her, and not knowing what to do, Jude called the man who let the lodgings, and said this was an acquaintance of his in great distress for want of temporary shelter.
'You may remember me as barmaid at the Lamb and Flag formerly?' spoke up Arabella. 'My father has insulted me this afternoon, and I've left him, though without a penny!'
The householder said he could not recall her features. 'But still, if you are a friend of Mr. Fawley's we'll do what we can for a day or two—if he'll make himself answerable?'
'Yes, yes,' said Jude. 'She has really taken me quite unawares; but I should wish to help her out of her difficulty.' And an arrangement was ultimately come to under which a bed was to be thrown down in Jude's lumber-room, to make it comfortable for Arabella till she could get out of the strait she was in—not by her own fault, as she declared—and return to her father's again.
While they were waiting for this to be done Arabella said: 'You know the news, I suppose?'
'I guess what you mean; but I know nothing.'
'I had a letter from Anny at Alfredston to-day. She had just heard that the wedding was to be yesterday: but she didn't know if it had come off.'
'I don't wish to talk of it.'
'No, no: of course you don't. Only it shows what kind of woman—'
'Don't speak of her I say! She's a fool! And she's an angel, too, poor dear!'
'If it's done, he'll have a chance of getting back to his old position, by everybody's account, so Anny says. All his well-wishers will be pleased, including the bishop himself.'
'Do spare me, Arabella.'
Arabella was duly installed in the little attic, and at first she did not come near Jude at all. She went to and fro about her own business, which, when they met for a moment on the stairs or in the passage, she informed him was that of obtaining another place in the occupation she understood best. When Jude suggested London as affording the most likely opening in the liquor trade, she shook her head. 'No—the temptations are too many,' she said. 'Any humble tavern in the country before that for me.'
On the Sunday morning following, when he breakfasted later than on other days, she meekly asked him if she might come in to breakfast with him, as she had broken her teapot, and could not replace it immediately, the shops being shut.
'Yes, if you like,' he said indifferently.
While they sat without speaking she suddenly observed: 'You seem all in a brood, old man. I'm sorry for you.'
'I am all in a brood.'
'It is about her, I know. It's no business of mine, but I could find out all about the wedding—if it really did take place—if you wanted to know.'
'How could you?'
'I wanted to go to Alfredston to get a few things I left there. And I could see Anny, who'll be sure to have heard all about it, as she has friends at Marygreen.'
Jude could not bear to acquiesce in this proposal; but his suspense pitted itself against his discretion, and won in the struggle. 'You can ask about it if you like,' he said. 'I've not heard a sound from there. It must have been very private, if—they have married.'
'I am afraid I haven't enough cash to take me there and back, or I should have gone before. I must wait till I have earned some.'
'Oh—I can pay the journey for you,' he said impatiently. And thus his suspense as to Sue's welfare, and the possible marriage, moved him to dispatch for intelligence the last emissary he would have thought of choosing deliberately.
Arabella went, Jude requesting her to be home not later than by the seven o'clock train. When she had gone he said: 'Why should I have charged her to be back by a particular time! She's nothing to me—nor the other
