Jude the Obsure - Page 103/318

They started up.

"You can bide here, you know, over the night--can't 'em, Mother?

The place is welcome to ye. 'Tis hard lying, rather, but volk may do

worse." He turned to Jude and asked privately: "Be you a married

couple?"

"Hsh--no!" said Jude.

"Oh--I meant nothing ba'dy--not I! Well then, she can go into

Mother's room, and you and I can lie in the outer chimmer after

they've gone through. I can call ye soon enough to catch the first

train back. You've lost this one now."

On consideration they decided to close with this offer, and drew up

and shared with the shepherd and his mother the boiled bacon and

greens for supper.

"I rather like this," said Sue, while their entertainers were

clearing away the dishes. "Outside all laws except gravitation and

germination."

"You only think you like it; you don't: you are quite a product of

civilization," said Jude, a recollection of her engagement reviving

his soreness a little.

"Indeed I am not, Jude. I like reading and all that, but I crave to

get back to the life of my infancy and its freedom."

"Do you remember it so well? You seem to me to have nothing

unconventional at all about you."

"Oh, haven't I! You don't know what's inside me."

"What?"

"The Ishmaelite."

"An urban miss is what you are."

She looked severe disagreement, and turned away.

The shepherd aroused them the next morning, as he had said. It was

bright and clear, and the four miles to the train were accomplished

pleasantly. When they had reached Melchester, and walked to the

Close, and the gables of the old building in which she was again to

be immured rose before Sue's eyes, she looked a little scared. "I

expect I shall catch it!" she murmured.

They rang the great bell and waited.

"Oh, I bought something for you, which I had nearly forgotten," she

said quickly, searching her pocket. "It is a new little photograph

of me. Would you like it?"

"WOULD I!" He took it gladly, and the porter came. There seemed to

be an ominous glance on his face when he opened the gate. She passed

in, looking back at Jude, and waving her hand.

III

The seventy young women, of ages varying in the main from nineteen to

one-and-twenty, though several were older, who at this date filled

the species of nunnery known as the Training-School at Melchester,

formed a very mixed community, which included the daughters of

mechanics, curates, surgeons, shopkeepers, farmers, dairy-men,

soldiers, sailors, and villagers. They sat in the large school-room

of the establishment on the evening previously described, and word

was passed round that Sue Bridehead had not come in at closing-time.