"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
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.