The soldier was sullen and reluctant: the bride sad and timid; she
was soon, obviously, to become a mother, and she had a black eye.
Their little business was soon done, and the twain and their friends
straggled out, one of the witnesses saying casually to Jude and Sue
in passing, as if he had known them before: "See the couple just
come in? Ha, ha! That fellow is just out of gaol this morning.
She met him at the gaol gates, and brought him straight here. She's
paying for everything."
Sue turned her head and saw an ill-favoured man, closely cropped,
with a broad-faced, pock-marked woman on his arm, ruddy with liquor
and the satisfaction of being on the brink of a gratified desire.
They jocosely saluted the outgoing couple, and went forward in front
of Jude and Sue, whose diffidence was increasing. The latter drew
back and turned to her lover, her mouth shaping itself like that of
a child about to give way to grief: "Jude--I don't like it here! I wish we hadn't come! The place gives
me the horrors: it seems so unnatural as the climax of our love!
I wish it had been at church, if it had to be at all. It is not so
vulgar there!"
"Dear little girl," said Jude. "How troubled and pale you look!"
"It must be performed here now, I suppose?"
"No--perhaps not necessarily."
He spoke to the clerk, and came back. "No--we need not marry here or
anywhere, unless we like, even now," he said. "We can be married in
a church, if not with the same certificate with another he'll give
us, I think. Anyhow, let us go out till you are calmer, dear, and I
too, and talk it over."
They went out stealthily and guiltily, as if they had committed a
misdemeanour, closing the door without noise, and telling the widow,
who had remained in the entry, to go home and await them; that they
would call in any casual passers as witnesses, if necessary. When
in the street they turned into an unfrequented side alley where they
walked up and down as they had done long ago in the market-house at
Melchester.
"Now, darling, what shall we do? We are making a mess of it, it
strikes me. Still, ANYTHING that pleases you will please me."
"But Jude, dearest, I am worrying you! You wanted it to be there,
didn't you?"
"Well, to tell the truth, when I got inside I felt as if I didn't
care much about it. The place depressed me almost as much as it
did you--it was ugly. And then I thought of what you had said this
morning as to whether we ought."