"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! Of course it

is not now! How could your heart go back to Arabella so soon?"

"A special Providence, I suppose, helped it on its way."

"Ah--it isn't true!" she said with gentle resentment. "You are

teasing me--that's all--because you think I am not happy!"

"I don't know. I don't wish to know."

"If I were unhappy it would be my fault, my wickedness; not that

I should have a right to dislike him! He is considerate to me in

everything; and he is very interesting, from the amount of general

knowledge he has acquired by reading everything that comes in his

way.... Do you think, Jude, that a man ought to marry a woman his

own age, or one younger than himself--eighteen years--as I am than

he?"

"It depends upon what they feel for each other."

He gave her no opportunity of self-satisfaction, and she had to go on

unaided, which she did in a vanquished tone, verging on tears: "I--I think I must be equally honest with you as you have been with

me. Perhaps you have seen what it is I want to say?--that though I

like Mr. Phillotson as a friend, I don't like him--it is a torture to

me to--live with him as a husband!--There, now I have let it out--I

couldn't help it, although I have been--pretending I am happy.--Now

you'll have a contempt for me for ever, I suppose!" She bent down

her face upon her hands as they lay upon the cloth, and silently

sobbed in little jerks that made the fragile three-legged table

quiver.




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