"For a few days to wind up Aunt's affairs.
This house is gone now.
Shall I go to the train with you?"
A little laugh of objection came from Sue.
"I think not.
You may come part of the way."
"But stop—you can't go to-night!
That train won't take you to Shaston.
You must stay and go back to-morrow. Mrs. Edlin has plenty of room, if you don't like to stay here?"
"Very well," she said dubiously.
"I didn't tell him I would come for certain."
Jude went to the widow's house adjoining, to let her know; and returning in a few minutes sat down again.
"It is horrible how we are circumstanced, Sue—horrible!" he said abruptly, with his eyes bent to the floor.
"No!
Why?"
"I can't tell you all my part of the gloom.
Your part is that you ought not to have married him.
I saw it before you had done it, but I thought I mustn't interfere.
I was wrong.
I ought to have!"
"But what makes you assume all this, dear?"
"Because—I can see you through your feathers, my poor little bird!"
Her hand lay on the table, and Jude put his upon it.
Sue drew hers away.
"That's absurd, Sue," cried he, "after what we've been talking about!
I am more strict and formal than you, if it comes to that; and that you should object to such an innocent action shows that you are ridiculously inconsistent!"
"Perhaps it was too prudish," she said repentantly.
"Only I have fancied it was a sort of trick of ours—too frequent perhaps. There, you may hold it as much as you like.
Is that good of me?"
"Yes; very."
"But I must tell him."
"Who?"
"Richard."
"Oh—of course, if you think it necessary.
But as it means nothing it may be bothering him needlessly."
"Well—are you sure you mean it only as my cousin?"
"Absolutely sure.
I have no feelings of love left in me."
"That's news.
How has it come to be?"
"I've seen Arabella."
She winced at the hit; then said curiously,
"When did you see her?"
"When I was at Christminster."
"So she's come back; and you never told me!
I suppose you will live with her now?"
"Of course—just as you live with your husband."
She looked at the window pots with the geraniums and cactuses, withered for want of attention, and through them at the outer distance, till her eyes began to grow moist.
"What is it?" said Jude, in a softened tone.
"Why should you be so glad to go back to her if—if what you used to say to me is still true—I mean if it were true then!