"And I was just making my baby darling a new frock; and now I shall

never see him in it, and never talk to him any more! ... My eyes are

so swollen that I can scarcely see; and yet little more than a year

ago I called myself happy! We went about loving each other too

much--indulging ourselves to utter selfishness with each other! We

said--do you remember?--that we would make a virtue of joy. I said

it was Nature's intention, Nature's law and _raison d'etre_ that we

should be joyful in what instincts she afforded us--instincts which

civilization had taken upon itself to thwart. What dreadful things I

said! And now Fate has given us this stab in the back for being such

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fools as to take Nature at her word!"

She sank into a quiet contemplation, till she said, "It is best,

perhaps, that they should be gone.--Yes--I see it is! Better that

they should be plucked fresh than stay to wither away miserably!"

"Yes," replied Jude. "Some say that the elders should rejoice when

their children die in infancy."

"But they don't know! ... Oh my babies, my babies, could you be

alive now! You may say the boy wished to be out of life, or he

wouldn't have done it. It was not unreasonable for him to die: it

was part of his incurably sad nature, poor little fellow! But then

the others--my OWN children and yours!"

Again Sue looked at the hanging little frock and at the socks and

shoes; and her figure quivered like a string. "I am a pitiable

creature," she said, "good neither for earth nor heaven any more!

I am driven out of my mind by things! What ought to be done?"

She stared at Jude, and tightly held his hand.

"Nothing can be done," he replied. "Things are as they are, and will

be brought to their destined issue."

She paused. "Yes! Who said that?" she asked heavily.

"It comes in the chorus of the _Agamemnon_. It has been in my mind

continually since this happened."

"My poor Jude--how you've missed everything!--you more than I, for

I did get you! To think you should know that by your unassisted

reading, and yet be in poverty and despair!"

After such momentary diversions her grief would return in a wave.

The jury duly came and viewed the bodies, the inquest was held; and

next arrived the melancholy morning of the funeral. Accounts in

the newspapers had brought to the spot curious idlers, who stood

apparently counting the window-panes and the stones of the walls.

Doubt of the real relations of the couple added zest to their

curiosity. Sue had declared that she would follow the two little

ones to the grave, but at the last moment she gave way, and the

coffins were quietly carried out of the house while she was lying

down. Jude got into the vehicle, and it drove away, much to the

relief of the landlord, who now had only Sue and her luggage

remaining on his hands, which he hoped to be also clear of later on

in the day, and so to have freed his house from the exasperating

notoriety it had acquired during the week through his wife's unlucky

admission of these strangers. In the afternoon he privately

consulted with the owner of the house, and they agreed that if any

objection to it arose from the tragedy which had occurred there they

would try to get its number changed.




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