Jude the Obscure (Oxford World's Classics)

Jude the Obscure


---

‘I cannot tell you. It is something . . . I cannot say. The mournful
thing is, that nobody would admit it as a reason for feeling as I do; so
that no excuse is left me.’
‘Did you ever tell Jude what it was?’
‘Never.’
‘I’ve heard strange tales o’ husbands in my time,’ observed the
widow in a lowered voice. ‘They say that when the saints were upon
the earth devils used to take husbands’ forms o’ nights, and get poor
women into all sorts of trouble. But I don’t know why that should
come into my head, for it is only a tale. . . . What a wind and rain it is
to-night! Well––don’t be in a hurry to alter things, my dear. Think it
over.’
‘No, no! I’ve screwed my weak soul up to treating him more
courteously––and it must be now––at once––before I break down!’
‘I don’t think you ought to force your nature. No woman ought to
be expected to.’
‘It is my duty. I will drink my cup to the dregs!’
Half-an-hour later when Mrs. Edlin put on her bonnet and shawl
to leave, Sue seemed to be seized with vague terror.
‘No, no––don’t go, Mrs. Edlin,’ she implored, her eyes enlarged,
and with a quick nervous look over her shoulder.
‘But it is bed-time, child.’
‘Yes, but––there’s the little spare room––my room that was. It is
quite ready. Please stay, Mrs. Edlin!––I shall want you in the
morning.’
‘O well––I don’t mind, if you wish. Nothing will happen to my
four old walls, whether I be there or no.’
She then fastened up the doors, and they ascended the stairs
together.
‘Wait here, Mrs, Edlin,’ said Sue. ‘I’ll go into my old room a
moment by myself.’
Leaving the widow on the landing Sue turned to the chamber
which had been hers exclusively since her arrival at Marygreen, and
pushing to the door knelt down by the bed for a minute or two. She
then arose, and taking her nightgown from the pillow undressed and
came out to Mrs. Edlin. A man could be heard snoring in the room
opposite. She wished Mrs. Edlin good-night, and the widow entered
the room that Sue had just vacated.
Sue unlatched the other chamber door, and, as if seized with
At Christminster Again


---

faintness, sank down outside it. Getting up again she half opened the
door, and said ‘Richard.’ As the word came out of her mouth she
visibly shuddered.
The snoring had quite ceased for some time, but he did not reply.
Sue seemed relieved, and hurried back to Mrs. Edlin’s chamber. ‘Are
you in bed, Mrs. Edlin?’ she asked.
‘No, dear,’ said the widow, opening the door. ‘I be old and slow,
and it takes me a long while to un-ray. I han’t unlaced my jumps yet.’
‘I––don’t hear him! And perhaps––perhaps——’
‘What, child?’
‘Perhaps he’s dead!’ she gasped. ‘And then––I should be free, and
I could go to Jude! . . . Ah––no––I forgot her––and God!’
‘Let’s go and hearken. No––he’s snoring again. But the rain and
the wind is so loud that you can hardly hear anything but between
whiles.’
Sue had dragged herself back. ‘Mrs. Edlin, good night again! I am
sorry I called you out.’ The widow retreated a second time.
The strained, resigned look returned to Sue’s face when she
was alone. ‘I must do it––I must! I must drink to the dregs!’
she whispered. ‘Richard!’ she said again.
‘Hey––what? Is that you, Susanna?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you want? Anything the matter? Wait a moment.’ He
pulled on some articles of clothing, and came to the door. ‘Yes?’
‘When we were at Shaston I jumped out of the window rather
than that you should come near me. I have never reversed that treat-
ment till now––when I have come to beg your pardon for it, and ask
you to let me in.’
‘Perhaps you only think you ought to do this? I don’t wish you to
come against your impulses, as I have said.’
‘But I beg to be admitted.’ She waited a moment, and repeated, ‘I
beg to be admitted! I have been in error––even to-day. I have
exceeded my rights. I did not mean to tell you, but perhaps I ought. I
sinned against you this afternoon.’
‘How?’
‘I met Jude! I didn’t know he was coming. And——’
‘Well?’
‘I kissed him, and let him kiss me.’
‘O––the old story!’