"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 bedtime, 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."
"Oh 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 night-gown 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 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.