Jude the Obsure - Page 107/318

"Jude!" (from below).

"Sue!"

"Yes--it is! Can I come up without being seen?"

"Oh yes!"

"Then don't come down. Shut the window."

Jude waited, knowing that she could enter easily enough, the front

door being opened merely by a knob which anybody could turn, as

in most old country towns. He palpitated at the thought that she

had fled to him in her trouble as he had fled to her in his. What

counterparts they were! He unlatched the door of his room, heard a

stealthy rustle on the dark stairs, and in a moment she appeared in

the light of his lamp. He went up to seize her hand, and found she

was clammy as a marine deity, and that her clothes clung to her like

the robes upon the figures in the Parthenon frieze.

"I'm so cold!" she said through her chattering teeth. "Can I come by

your fire, Jude?"

She crossed to his little grate and very little fire, but as the

water dripped from her as she moved, the idea of drying herself was

absurd. "Whatever have you done, darling?" he asked, with alarm, the

tender epithet slipping out unawares.

"Walked through the largest river in the county--that's what I've

done! They locked me up for being out with you; and it seemed so

unjust that I couldn't bear it, so I got out of the window and

escaped across the stream!" She had begun the explanation in her

usual slightly independent tones, but before she had finished the

thin pink lips trembled, and she could hardly refrain from crying.

"Dear Sue!" he said. "You must take off all your things! And let me

see--you must borrow some from the landlady. I'll ask her."

"No, no! Don't let her know, for God's sake! We are so near the

school that they'll come after me!"

"Then you must put on mine. You don't mind?"

"Oh no."

"My Sunday suit, you know. It is close here." In fact, everything

was close and handy in Jude's single chamber, because there was not

room for it to be otherwise. He opened a drawer, took out his best

dark suit, and giving the garments a shake, said, "Now, how long

shall I give you?"

"Ten minutes."

Jude left the room and went into the street, where he walked up and

down. A clock struck half-past seven, and he returned. Sitting in

his only arm-chair he saw a slim and fragile being masquerading as

himself on a Sunday, so pathetic in her defencelessness that his

heart felt big with the sense of it. On two other chairs before the

fire were her wet garments. She blushed as he sat down beside her,

but only for a moment.