In the meantime Sue, though remarkably successful in her cake-selling
experiment at Kennetbridge fair, had lost the temporary brightness
which had begun to sit upon her sadness on account of that success.
When all her "Christminster" cakes had been disposed of she took
upon her arm the empty basket, and the cloth which had covered the
standing she had hired, and giving the other things to the boy left
the street with him. They followed a lane to a distance of half a
mile, till they met an old woman carrying a child in short clothes,
and leading a toddler in the other hand.
Sue kissed the children, and said, "How is he now?"
"Still better!" returned Mrs. Edlin cheerfully. "Before you are
upstairs again your husband will be well enough--don't 'ee trouble."
They turned, and came to some old, dun-tiled cottages with gardens
and fruit-trees. Into one of these they entered by lifting the latch
without knocking, and were at once in the general living-room. Here
they greeted Jude, who was sitting in an arm-chair, the increased
delicacy of his normally delicate features, and the childishly
expectant look in his eyes, being alone sufficient to show that he
had been passing through a severe illness.
"What--you have sold them all?" he said, a gleam of interest lighting
up his face.
"Yes. Arcades, gables, east windows and all." She told him the
pecuniary results, and then hesitated. At last, when they were left
alone, she informed him of the unexpected meeting with Arabella, and
the latter's widowhood.
Jude was discomposed. "What--is she living here?" he said.
"No; at Alfredston," said Sue.
Jude's countenance remained clouded. "I thought I had better tell
you?" she continued, kissing him anxiously.
"Yes... Dear me! Arabella not in the depths of London, but down
here! It is only a little over a dozen miles across the country to
Alfredston. What is she doing there?"
She told him all she knew. "She has taken to chapel-going," Sue
added; "and talks accordingly."
"Well," said Jude, "perhaps it is for the best that we have almost
decided to move on. I feel much better to-day, and shall be well
enough to leave in a week or two. Then Mrs. Edlin can go home
again--dear faithful old soul--the only friend we have in the world!"
"Where do you think to go to?" Sue asked, a troublousness in her
tones.
Then Jude confessed what was in his mind. He said it would surprise
her, perhaps, after his having resolutely avoided all the old places
for so long. But one thing and another had made him think a great
deal of Christminster lately, and, if she didn't mind, he would like
to go back there. Why should they care if they were known? It was
oversensitive of them to mind so much. They could go on selling
cakes there, for that matter, if he couldn't work. He had no sense
of shame at mere poverty; and perhaps he would be as strong as ever
soon, and able to set up stone-cutting for himself there.