几天后，有个人影穿过为茫茫雾气笼罩的基督堂郊区别是巴，往裘德在同苏分居后所赁的住所走去；乍着胆子在他门上敲了敲。
已经是晚上了，所以他在家。他似乎有某种预感，一跃而起，赶快开门。
“你跟我出来一下好不好？我不想进去。我想——跟你谈谈——跟你一块儿上公墓去。”
苏是声音颤抖着把这几句话说出来的。裘德戴上了帽子。“你这时候跑到外边来，太苦啦。不过你要是真不想进来，我也不勉强。”
“我不想进去。我不会耽误你多大工夫。”
裘德因为觉得非常不自然，一时没再把话说下去；她呢，好像思绪乱结，一点主动说话的能耐都没了。他们如同阴曹地府的鬼魂，在浓雾中走了好久，没出声，也没做什么表示。
“我想跟你说一下。”她终于开了口，话音一快一慢的。“这样你就不会突然听见别人说起来了。我准备回里查那儿。他大度包容，表示对过去一切决不计较。”
“回他那儿？你怎么能回——”
“他打算跟我再结次婚。那不过是个形式，好应付社会上那些人，他们是不会实事求是地看人论事的。不管怎么着，我原来就是他的妻子。这怎么也改变不了。”
他转过身来对着她，显出撕心裂腑般痛苦。
“可是你是我的妻子呀！是啊，你现在就是啊。你不是清清楚楚吗？咱们为了应付别人的恶言恶语，出了那趟门，回来时候装着按法律结了婚，面子上好过得去，这事我一直后悔呢。我爱你，你爱我；咱们相依为命，这才是婚姻啊。咱们现在还是相爱，我清楚，你不也一样清楚吗？苏啊！因为这样，咱们的婚姻是勾销不了的。”
“不错，你的看法我知道。”她回答，用了那样充满了失望而又勉强抑制自己感情的口气。“但是我还是要跟他再结婚，这你是一定要斥责的。要是从严说的话，请你别生气，裘德，你也该把阿拉贝拉弄回来。”
“我该把她弄回来？天哪——还要干什么！不过你跟我要是按法律结了婚，像咱们以前考虑那样办了，此时你又当如何？”
“我还是一样想法——咱们这个算不上婚姻。即便里查不要求我再来一次神圣的仪式，我还是要回他那儿。但是，‘世间万事，各行其道’（我这么想），所以我同意再举行一次仪式。你别挖苦，也别强词夺理，搞得我活不下去，我求求你！我从前是坚强不过的，这我知道，也许从前我才对你无情无义过。可是，裘德，你就以德报怨吧！我现在是弱者。别对我报仇泄愤吧，慈悲慈悲吧。哦，对我这个想要改邪归正的坏女人慈悲慈悲吧！”
他绝望地摇了摇头，眼睛湿了。亲子夭殇这个大故看来把她的推理能力彻底摧毁了，那一度深睿的洞察力黯然失色了。“错到底啦，这样胡搅蛮缠，不可理喻！”他嘎声说。‘要把我逼疯啦。你喜欢他吗？你爱他吗？你知道根本不是那么回事！你这不是一心要卖淫吗？上帝宽恕我吧，将来不就是这么回事嘛！”
“我不爱他——就算我现在痛改前非了，这我也一定承认，一定承认！不过我要努力学会用服从他的办法去爱他。”
裘德反复不断地譬解，劝说，央求，可是她的信念一点不动摇。看来她只剩下这个信念算最拿得稳了，唯有把这个信念坚持下去，她才不致让她历来种种冲动和愿望把她弄得无所适从。
“我把整个事实都告诉你了，亲口说了，我算够体谅你了，”她冷冷地说，“省得你一听到别人转告，觉着我瞧不起你。我连不爱他这样的底也承认了。我没想到你因为我这样做，竞然对我这么粗暴！我要请求你……”
“让你走？”
“不是。把我的箱子——寄给我，要是你肯的话。不过我想你不肯。”
“哈，我当然肯喽。这么说——他不到这儿来接你——到这儿来跟你结婚喽？他不肯屈尊俯就喽？”
“不是那么回事——是我不让他来。我自愿到他那儿，跟我当初自愿离开他一样。我们要在马利格林小教堂结婚。”
他说她顽梗不化，一错到底的时候，她显得既哀伤，又娇婉，裘德不止一次因为可怜她而落泪。“我从来没见过有哪个女人像你这样全凭冲动忏悔罪过的法子，苏！别人刚希望你走阳关大道，本来是理所当然，可你偏偏要钻死胡同！”
“啊，呢；那就这样好啦！……裘德，我得说再会啦！不过我还要你跟我去趟公墓。咱们就在那儿告别好啦——在他们旁边，他们没白死，总算把我的错误思想纠正过来了。”
他们朝公墓方向走，经过向看墓人说明，他开了公墓门让他们进去。他以前常来，知道怎么摸黑走到坟头的路。到了之后，他们默默立着。
“就在这儿——我愿意咱们在这儿分手。”她说。
“就依你的！”
“你别因为我按自己的信念行事，就觉着我狠戾无情。你对我宽和大度，用情专一，这是绝无仅有的。你在社会上失败了——如果你失败了的话，那并非你的过错，而是你的光荣。别忘了，人类中间只有那些决不孳孳为利的，才是真正的出类拔萃的人物。但凡功成名就的人，多多少少是自私自利者。忠信笃实非失败不可…… ‘爱不求自己的益处。’
“咱们对这一章真是情同此心，心同此理啊，我永远爱的亲亲，咱们就按这一章，分手时也是朋友吧。哪怕你所谓的宗教那类东西都湮灭了，这一章的内容也历久不衰，万古犹新！”
“好啦——别说啦。再会，裘德，我一块儿造孽的同伙，最亲切善良的朋友！”
“再会，我的走入迷途的妻子，再会！”
Part 6 Chapter 5
THE next afternoon the familiar Christminster fog still hung over all things. Sue's slim shape was only just discernible going towards the station.
Jude had no heart to go to his work that day. Neither could he go anywhere in the direction by which she would be likely to pass. He went in an opposite one, to a dreary, strange, flat scene, where boughs dripped, and coughs and consumption lurked, and where he had never been before.
"Sue's gone from me--gone!" he murmured miserably.
She in the meantime had left by the train, and reached Alfredston Road, where she entered the steam-tram and was conveyed into the town. It had been her request to Phillotson that he should not meet her. She wished, she said, to come to him voluntarily, to his very house and hearthstone.
It was Friday evening, which had been chosen because the schoolmaster was disengaged at four o'clock that day till the Monday morning following. The little car she hired at the Bear to drive her to Marygreen set her down at the end of the lane, half a mile from the village, by her desire, and preceded her to the schoolhouse with such portion of her luggage as she had brought. On its return she encountered it, and asked the driver if he had found the master's house open. The man informed her that he had, and that her things had been taken in by the schoolmaster himself.
She could now enter Marygreen without exciting much observation. She crossed by the well and under the trees to the pretty new school on the other side, and lifted the latch of the dwelling without knocking. Phillotson stood in the middle of the room, awaiting her, as requested.
"I've come, Richard," said she, looking pale and shaken, and sinking into a chair. "I cannot believe--you forgive your--wife!"
"Everything, darling Susanna," said Phillotson.
She started at the endearment, though it had been spoken advisedly without fervour. Then she nerved herself again.
"My children--are dead--and it is right that they should be! I am glad--almost. They were sin-begotten. They were sacrificed to teach me how to live! Their death was the first stage of my purification. That's why they have not died in vain! ... You will take me back?"
He was so stirred by her pitiful words and tone that he did more than he had meant to do. He bent and kissed her cheek.
Sue imperceptibly shrank away, her flesh quivering under the touch of his lips.
Phillotson's heart sank, for desire was renascent in him. "You still have an aversion to me!"
"Oh no, dear--I have been driving through the damp, and I was chilly!" she said, with a hurried smile of apprehension. "When are we going to have the marriage? Soon?"
"To-morrow morning, early, I thought--if you really wish. I am sending round to the vicar to let him know you are come. I have told him all, and he highly approves--he says it will bring our lives to a triumphant and satisfactory issue. But--are you sure of yourself? It is not too late to refuse now if-- you think you can't bring yourself to it, you know?"
"Yes, yes, I can! I want it done quick. Tell him, tell him at once! My strength is tried by the undertaking--I can't wait long!"
"Have something to eat and drink then, and go over to your room at Mrs. Edlin's. I'll tell the vicar half-past eight to-morrow, before anybody is about--if that's not too soon for you? My friend Gillingham is here to help us in the ceremony. He's been good enough to come all the way from Shaston at great inconvenience to himself."
Unlike a woman in ordinary, whose eye is so keen for material things, Sue seemed to see nothing of the room they were in, or any detail of her environment. But on moving across the parlour to put down her muff she uttered a little "Oh!" and grew paler than before. Her look was that of the condemned criminal who catches sight of his coffin.
"What?" said Phillotson.
The flap of the bureau chanced to be open, and in placing her muff upon it her eye had caught a document which lay there. "Oh--only a--funny surprise!" she said, trying to laugh away her cry as she came back to the table.
"Ah! Yes," said Phillotson. "The licence.... It has just come."
Gillingham now joined them from his room above, and Sue nervously made herself agreeable to him by talking on whatever she thought likely to interest him, except herself, though that interested him most of all. She obediently ate some supper, and prepared to leave for her lodging hard by. Phillotson crossed the green with her, bidding her good-night at Mrs. Edlin's door.
The old woman accompanied Sue to her temporary quarters, and helped her to unpack. Among other things she laid out a night-gown tastefully embroidered.
"Oh--I didn't know THAT was put in!" said Sue quickly. "I didn't mean it to be. Here is a different one." She handed a new and absolutely plain garment, of coarse and unbleached calico.
"But this is the prettiest," said Mrs. Edlin. "That one is no better than very sackcloth o' Scripture!"
"Yes--I meant it to be. Give me the other."
She took it, and began rending it with all her might, the tears resounding through the house like a screech-owl.
"But my dear, dear!--whatever ..."
"It is adulterous! It signifies what I don't feel--I bought it long ago-- to please Jude. It must be destroyed!"
Mrs. Edlin lifted her hands, and Sue excitedly continued to tear the linen into strips, laying the pieces in the fire.
"You med ha' give it to me!" said the widow. "It do make my heart ache to see such pretty open-work as that a-burned by the flames-- not that ornamental night-rails can be much use to a' ould 'ooman like I. My days for such be all past and gone!"
"It is an accursed thing--it reminds me of what I want to forget!" Sue repeated. "It is only fit for the fire."
"Lord, you be too strict! What do ye use such words for, and condemn to hell your dear little innocent children that's lost to 'ee! Upon my life I don't call that religion!"
Sue flung her face upon the bed, sobbing. "Oh, don't, don't! That kills me!" She remained shaken with her grief, and slipped down upon her knees.
"I'll tell 'ee what--you ought not to marry this man again!" said Mrs. Edlin indignantly. "You are in love wi' t' other still!"
"Yes I must--I am his already!"
"Pshoo! You be t' other man's. If you didn't like to commit yourselves to the binding vow again, just at first, 'twas all the more credit to your consciences, considering your reasons, and you med ha' lived on, and made it all right at last. After all, it concerned nobody but your own two selves."
"Richard says he'll have me back, and I'm bound to go! If he had refused, it might not have been so much my duty to-- give up Jude. But--" She remained with her face in the bed-clothes, and Mrs. Edlin left the room.
Phillotson in the interval had gone back to his friend Gillingham, who still sat over the supper-table. They soon rose, and walked out on the green to smoke awhile. A light was burning in Sue's room, a shadow moving now and then across the blind.
Gillingham had evidently been impressed with the indefinable charm of Sue, and after a silence he said, "Well: you've all but got her again at last. She can't very well go a second time. The pear has dropped into your hand."
"Yes! ... I suppose I am right in taking her at her word. I confess there seems a touch of selfishness in it. Apart from her being what she is, of course, a luxury for a fogy like me, it will set me right in the eyes of the clergy and orthodox laity, who have never forgiven me for letting her go. So I may get back in some degree into my old track."
"Well--if you've got any sound reason for marrying her again, do it now in God's name! I was always against your opening the cage-door and letting the bird go in such an obviously suicidal way. You might have been a school inspector by this time, or a reverend, if you hadn't been so weak about her."
"I did myself irreparable damage--I know it."
"Once you've got her housed again, stick to her."
Phillotson was more evasive to-night. He did not care to admit clearly that his taking Sue to him again had at bottom nothing to do with repentance of letting her go, but was, primarily, a human instinct flying in the face of custom and profession. He said, "Yes--I shall do that. I know woman better now. Whatever justice there was in releasing her, there was little logic, for one holding my views on other subjects."
Gillingham looked at him, and wondered whether it would ever happen that the reactionary spirit induced by the world's sneers and his own physical wishes would make Phillotson more orthodoxly cruel to her than he had erstwhile been informally and perversely kind.
"I perceive it won't do to give way to impulse," Phillotson resumed, feeling more and more every minute the necessity of acting up to his position. "I flew in the face of the Church's teaching; but I did it without malice prepense. Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness. However, I know myself better now. A little judicious severity, perhaps...."
"Yes; but you must tighten the reins by degrees only. Don't be too strenuous at first. She'll come to any terms in time."
The caution was unnecessary, though Phillotson did not say so. "I remember what my vicar at Shaston said, when I left after the row that was made about my agreeing to her elopement. 'The only thing you can do to retrieve your position and hers is to admit your error in not restraining her with a wise and strong hand, and to get her back again if she'll come, and be firm in the future.' But I was so headstrong at that time that I paid no heed. And that after the divorce she should have thought of doing so I did not dream."
The gate of Mrs. Edlin's cottage clicked, and somebody began crossing in the direction of the school. Phillotson said "Good-night."
"Oh, is that Mr. Phillotson," said Mrs. Edlin. "I was going over to see 'ee. I've been upstairs with her, helping her to unpack her things; and upon my word, sir, I don't think this ought to be!"
"What--the wedding?"
"Yes. She's forcing herself to it, poor dear little thing; and you've no notion what she's suffering. I was never much for religion nor against it, but it can't be right to let her do this, and you ought to persuade her out of it. Of course everybody will say it was very good and forgiving of 'ee to take her to 'ee again. But for my part I don't."
"It's her wish, and I am willing," said Phillotson with grave reserve, opposition making him illogically tenacious now. "A great piece of laxity will be rectified."
"I don't believe it. She's his wife if anybody's. She's had three children by him, and he loves her dearly; and it's a wicked shame to egg her on to this, poor little quivering thing! She's got nobody on her side. The one man who'd be her friend the obstinate creature won't allow to come near her. What first put her into this mood o' mind, I wonder!"
"I can't tell. Not I certainly. It is all voluntary on her part. Now that's all I have to say." Phillotson spoke stiffly. "You've turned round, Mrs. Edlin. It is unseemly of you!"
"Well. I knowed you'd be affronted at what I had to say; but I don't mind that. The truth's the truth."
"I'm not affronted, Mrs. Edlin. You've been too kind a neighbour for that. But I must be allowed to know what's best for myself and Susanna. I suppose you won't go to church with us, then?"
"No. Be hanged if I can.... I don't know what the times be coming to! Matrimony have growed to be that serious in these days that one really do feel afeard to move in it at all. In my time we took it more careless; and I don't know that we was any the worse for it! When I and my poor man were jined in it we kept up the junketing all the week, and drunk the parish dry, and had to borrow half a crown to begin housekeeping!"
