by Thomas Hardy
VI
The place was the door of Jude's lodging in the out-skirts ofChristminster--far from the precincts of St. Silas' where he hadformerly lived, which saddened him to sickness. The rain was comingdown. 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 hasturned me out of doors after borrowing every penny I'd got, to put itinto his business, and then accusing me of laziness when I was onlywaiting for a situation. I am at the mercy of the world! If youcan't take me and help me, Jude, I must go to the workhouse, or tosomething worse. Only just now two undergraduates winked at me as Icame along. 'Tis hard for a woman to keep virtuous where there's somany young men!"
The woman in the rain who spoke thus was Arabella, the evening beingthat 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 enduregoing 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 thosethings; and if you talk about them I shall not help you."
"Then I suppose I must go!" said Arabella. She bent her head againstthe doorpost and began sobbing.
"The house is full," said Jude. "And I have only a little extra roomto my own--not much more than a closet--where I keep my tools, andtemplates, 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 enoughfor me."
Unable to be harsh with her, and not knowing what to do, Jude calledthe man who let the lodgings, and said this was an acquaintance ofhis in great distress for want of temporary shelter.
"You may remember me as barmaid at the Lamb and Flag formerly?" spokeup Arabella. "My father has insulted me this afternoon, and I'veleft 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 dayor two--if he'll make himself answerable?"
"Yes, yes," said Jude. "She has really taken me quite unawares; butI should wish to help her out of her difficulty." And an arrangementwas ultimately come to under which a bed was to be thrown down inJude's lumber-room, to make it comfortable for Arabella till shecould get out of the strait she was in--not by her own fault, as shedeclared--and return to her father's again.
While they were waiting for this to be done Arabella said: "You knowthe 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 heardthat the wedding was to be yesterday: but she didn't know if it hadcome 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 oldposition, by everybody's account, so Anny says. All his well-wisherswill be pleased, including the bishop himself."
"Do spare me, Arabella."
Arabella was duly installed in the little attic, and at first shedid not come near Jude at all. She went to and fro about her ownbusiness, which, when they met for a moment on the stairs or in thepassage, she informed him was that of obtaining another place inthe occupation she understood best. When Jude suggested London asaffording the most likely opening in the liquor trade, she shook herhead. "No--the temptations are too many," she said. "Any humbletavern in the country before that for me."
On the Sunday morning following, when he breakfasted later than onother days, she meekly asked him if she might come in to breakfastwith him, as she had broken her teapot, and could not replace itimmediately, the shops being shut.
"Yes, if you like," he said indifferently.
While they sat without speaking she suddenly observed: "You seem allin 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 findout all about the wedding--if it really did take place--if you wantedto know."
"How could you?"
"I wanted to go to Alfredston to get a few things I left there. AndI could see Anny, who'll be sure to have heard all about it, as shehas friends at Marygreen."
Jude could not bear to acquiesce in this proposal; but his suspensepitted itself against his discretion, and won in the struggle. "Youcan ask about it if you like," he said. "I've not heard a sound fromthere. 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 Ishould have gone before. I must wait till I have earned some."
"Oh--I can pay the journey for you," he said impatiently. And thushis suspense as to Sue's welfare, and the possible marriage, movedhim to dispatch for intelligence the last emissary he would havethought of choosing deliberately.
Arabella went, Jude requesting her to be home not later than bythe seven o'clock train. When she had gone he said: "Why should Ihave charged her to be back by a particular time! She's nothing tome--nor the other neither!"
But having finished work he could not help going to the station tomeet Arabella, dragged thither by feverish haste to get the newsshe might bring, and know the worst. Arabella had made dimplesmost successfully all the way home, and when she stepped out of therailway carriage she smiled. He merely said "Well?" with the veryreverse of a smile.
"They are married."
"Yes--of course they are!" he returned. She observed, however, thehard strain upon his lip as he spoke.
"Anny says she has heard from Belinda, her relation out at Marygreen,that it was very sad, and curious!"
"How do you mean sad? She wanted to marry him again, didn't she?And he her!"
"Yes--that was it. She wanted to in one sense, but not in theother. Mrs. Edlin was much upset by it all, and spoke out her mindat Phillotson. But Sue was that excited about it that she burnt herbest embroidery that she'd worn with you, to blot you out entirely.Well--if a woman feels like it, she ought to do it. I commend herfor it, though others don't." Arabella sighed. "She felt he was heronly husband, and that she belonged to nobody else in the sight ofGod A'mighty while he lived. Perhaps another woman feels the sameabout herself, too!" Arabella sighed again.
"I don't want any cant!" exclaimed Jude.
"It isn't cant," said Arabella. "I feel exactly the same as she!"
He closed that issue by remarking abruptly: "Well--now I know all Iwanted to know. Many thanks for your information. I am not goingback to my lodgings just yet." And he left her straightway.
In his misery and depression Jude walked to well-nigh every spotin the city that he had visited with Sue; thence he did not knowwhither, and then thought of going home to his usual evening meal.But having all the vices of his virtues, and some to spare, he turnedinto a public house, for the first time during many months. Amongthe possible consequences of her marriage Sue had not dwelt on this.
Arabella, meanwhile, had gone back. The evening passed, and Judedid not return. At half-past nine Arabella herself went out, firstproceeding to an outlying district near the river where her fatherlived, and had opened a small and precarious pork-shop lately.
"Well," she said to him, "for all your rowing me that night, I'vecalled in, for I have something to tell you. I think I shall getmarried and settled again. Only you must help me: and you can dono less, after what I've stood 'ee."
"I'll do anything to get thee off my hands!"
"Very well. I am now going to look for my young man. He's on theloose I'm afraid, and I must get him home. All I want
you to doto-night is not to fasten the door, in case I should want to sleephere, and should be late."
"I thought you'd soon get tired of giving yourself airs and keepingaway!"
"Well--don't do the door. That's all I say."
She then sallied out again, and first hastening back to Jude's tomake sure that he had not returned, began her search for him. Ashrewd guess as to his probable course took her straight to thetavern which Jude had formerly frequented, and where she had beenbarmaid for a brief term. She had no sooner opened the door of the"Private Bar" than her eyes fell upon him--sitting in the shade atthe back of the compartment, with his eyes fixed on the floor in ablank stare. He was drinking nothing stronger than ale just then.He did not observe her, and she entered and sat beside him.
Jude looked up, and said without surprise: "You've come to havesomething, Arabella? ... I'm trying to forget her: that's all! ButI can't; and I am going home." She saw that he was a little way onin liquor, but only a little as yet.
"I've come entirely to look for you, dear boy. You are not well.Now you must have something better than that." Arabella held up herfinger to the barmaid. "You shall have a liqueur--that's better fitfor a man of education than beer. You shall have maraschino, orcuracao dry or sweet, or cherry brandy. I'll treat you, poor chap!"
"I don't care which! Say cherry brandy... Sue has served me badly,very badly. I didn't expect it of Sue! I stuck to her, and sheought to have stuck to me. I'd have sold my soul for her sake, butshe wouldn't risk hers a jot for me. To save her own soul she letsmine go damn! ... But it isn't her fault, poor little girl--I amsure it isn't!"
How Arabella had obtained money did not appear, but she ordered aliqueur each, and paid for them. When they had drunk these Arabellasuggested another; and Jude had the pleasure of being, as it were,personally conducted through the varieties of spirituous delectationby one who knew the landmarks well. Arabella kept very considerablyin the rear of Jude; but though she only sipped where he drank, shetook as much as she could safely take without losing her head--whichwas not a little, as the crimson upon her countenance showed.
Her tone towards him to-night was uniformly soothing and cajoling;and whenever he said "I don't care what happens to me," a thing hedid continually, she replied, "But I do very much!" The closing hourcame, and they were compelled to turn out; whereupon Arabella put herarm round his waist, and guided his unsteady footsteps.
When they were in the streets she said: "I don't know what ourlandlord will say to my bringing you home in this state. I expect weare fastened out, so that he'll have to come down and let us in."
"I don't know--I don't know."
"That's the worst of not having a home of your own. I tell you,Jude, what we had best do. Come round to my father's--I made it upwith him a bit to-day. I can let you in, and nobody will see you atall; and by to-morrow morning you'll be all right."
"Anything--anywhere," replied Jude. "What the devil does it matterto me?"
They went along together, like any other fuddling couple, her armstill round his waist, and his, at last, round hers; though with noamatory intent; but merely because he was weary, unstable, and inneed of support.
"This--is th' Martyrs'--burning-place," he stammered as theydragged across a broad street. "I remember--in old Fuller's _HolyState_--and I am reminded of it--by our passing by here--old Fullerin his _Holy State_ says, that at the burning of Ridley, DoctorSmith--preached sermon, and took as his text _'Though I give my bodyto be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.'_--Oftenthink of it as I pass here. Ridley was a--"
"Yes. Exactly. Very thoughtful of you, deary, even though it hasn'tmuch to do with our present business."
"Why, yes it has! I'm giving my body to be burned! But--ah youdon't understand!--it wants Sue to understand such things! And Iwas her seducer--poor little girl! And she's gone--and I don't careabout myself! Do what you like with me! ... And yet she did it forconscience' sake, poor little Sue!"
"Hang her!--I mean, I think she was right," hiccuped Arabella. "I'vemy feelings too, like her; and I feel I belong to you in Heaven'seye, and to nobody else, till death us do part! It is--hic--nevertoo late--hic to mend!"
They had reached her father's house, and she softly unfastened thedoor, groping about for a light within.
The circumstances were not altogether unlike those of their entryinto the cottage at Cresscombe, such a long time before. Nor wereperhaps Arabella's motives. But Jude did not think of that, thoughshe did.
"I can't find the matches, dear," she said when she had fastened upthe door. "But never mind--this way. As quiet as you can, please."
"It is as dark as pitch," said Jude.
"Give me your hand, and I'll lead you. That's it. Just sit downhere, and I'll pull off your boots. I don't want to wake him."
"Who?"
"Father. He'd make a row, perhaps."
She pulled off his boots. "Now," she whispered, "take hold ofme--never mind your weight. Now--first stair, second stair--"
"But--are we out in our old house by Marygreen?" asked the stupefiedJude. "I haven't been inside it for years till now! Hey? And whereare my books? That's what I want to know?"
"We are at my house, dear, where there's nobody to spy out how illyou are. Now--third stair, fourth stair--that's it. Now we shallget on."
