by Thomas Hardy
A few days after a figure moved through the white fog which envelopedthe Beersheba suburb of Christminster, towards the quarter in whichJude Fawley had taken up his lodging since his division from Sue. Atimid knock sounded upon the door of his abode.
It was evening--so he was at home; and by a species of divination hejumped up and rushed to the door himself.
"Will you come out with me? I would rather not come in. I wantto--to talk with you--and to go with you to the cemetery."
It had been in the trembling accents of Sue that these words came.Jude put on his hat. "It is dreary for you to be out," he said."But if you prefer not to come in, I don't mind."
"Yes--I do. I shall not keep you long."
Jude was too much affected to go on talking at first; she, too, wasnow such a mere cluster of nerves that all initiatory power seemedto have left her, and they proceeded through the fog like Acheronticshades for a long while, without sound or gesture.
"I want to tell you," she presently said, her voice now quick, nowslow, "so that you may not hear of it by chance. I am going back toRichard. He has--so magnanimously--agreed to forgive all."
"Going back? How can you go--"
"He is going to marry me again. That is for form's sake, and tosatisfy the world, which does not see things as they are. But ofcourse I AM his wife already. Nothing has changed that."
He turned upon her with an anguish that was well-nigh fierce.
"But you are MY wife! Yes, you are. You know it. I have alwaysregretted that feint of ours in going away and pretending to comeback legally married, to save appearances. I loved you, and youloved me; and we closed with each other; and that made the marriage.We still love--you as well as I--KNOW it, Sue! Therefore ourmarriage is not cancelled."
"Yes; I know how you see it," she answered with despairingself-suppression. "But I am going to marry him again, as it wouldbe called by you. Strictly speaking you, too--don't mind my sayingit, Jude!--you should take back--Arabella."
"I should? Good God--what next! But how if you and I had marriedlegally, as we were on the point of doing?"
"I should have felt just the same--that ours was not a marriage.And I would go back to Richard without repeating the sacrament, ifhe asked me. But 'the world and its ways have a certain worth' (Isuppose), therefore I concede a repetition of the ceremony... Don'tcrush all the life out of me by satire and argument, I implore you!I was strongest once, I know, and perhaps I treated you cruelly.But Jude, return good for evil! I am the weaker now. Don'tretaliate upon me, but be kind. Oh be kind to me--a poor wickedwoman who is trying to mend!"
He shook his head hopelessly, his eyes wet. The blow of herbereavement seemed to have destroyed her reasoning faculty. The oncekeen vision was dimmed. "All wrong, all wrong!" he said huskily."Error--perversity! It drives me out of my senses. Do you care forhim? Do you love him? You know you don't! It will be a fanaticprostitution--God forgive me, yes--that's what it will be!"
"I don't love him--I must, must, own it, in deepest remorse! But Ishall try to learn to love him by obeying him."
Jude argued, urged, implored; but her conviction was proof againstall. It seemed to be the one thing on earth on which she was firm,and that her firmness in this had left her tottering in every otherimpulse and wish she possessed.
"I have been considerate enough to let you know the whole truth,and to tell it you myself," she said in cut tones; "that you mightnot consider yourself slighted by hearing of it at second hand. Ihave even owned the extreme fact that I do not love him. I did notthink you would be so rough with me for doing so! I was going toask you..."
"To give you away?"
"No. To send--my boxes to me--if you would. But I suppose youwon't."
"Why, of course I will. What--isn't he coming to fetch you--to marryyou from here? He won't condescend to do that?"
"No--I won't let him. I go to him voluntarily, just as I went awayfrom him. We are to be married at his little church at Marygreen."
She was so sadly sweet in what he called her wrong-headedness thatJude could not help being moved to tears more than once for pity ofher. "I never knew such a woman for doing impulsive penances, asyou, Sue! No sooner does one expect you to go straight on, as theone rational proceeding, than you double round the corner!"
"Ah, well; let that go! ... Jude, I must say good-bye! But I wantedyou to go to the cemetery with me. Let our farewell be there--besidethe graves of those who died to bring home to me the error of myviews."
They turned in the direction of the place, and the gate was opened tothem on application. Sue had been there often, and she knew the wayto the spot in the dark. They reached it, and stood still.
"It is here--I should like to part," said she.
"So be it!"
"Don't think me hard because I have acted on conviction. Yourgenerous devotion to me is unparalleled, Jude! Your worldly failure,if you have failed, is to your credit rather than to your blame.Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who dothemselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less aselfish man. The devoted fail... 'Charity seeketh not her own.'"
"In that chapter we are at one, ever beloved darling, and on it we'llpart friends. Its verses will stand fast when all the rest that youcall religion has passed away!"
"Well--don't discuss it. Good-bye, Jude; my fellow-sinner, andkindest friend!"
"Good-bye, my mistaken wife. Good-bye!"
