There was this change in him; that he did not often go to any service
at the churches now. One thing troubled him more than any other;
that Sue and himself had mentally travelled in opposite directions
since the tragedy: events which had enlarged his own views of life,
laws, customs, and dogmas, had not operated in the same manner on
Sue's. She was no longer the same as in the independent days, when
her intellect played like lambent lightning over conventions and
formalities which he at that time respected, though he did not now.
On a particular Sunday evening he came in rather late. She was
not at home, but she soon returned, when he found her silent and
meditative.
"What are you thinking of, little woman?" he asked curiously.
"Oh I can't tell clearly! I have thought that we have been selfish,
careless, even impious, in our courses, you and I. Our life has been
a vain attempt at self-delight. But self-abnegation is the higher
road. We should mortify the flesh--the terrible flesh--the curse of
Adam!"
"Sue!" he murmured. "What has come over you?"
"We ought to be continually sacrificing ourselves on the altar of
duty! But I have always striven to do what has pleased me. I well
deserved the scourging I have got! I wish something would take the
evil right out of me, and all my monstrous errors, and all my sinful
ways!"
"Sue--my own too suffering dear!--there's no evil woman in you. Your
natural instincts are perfectly healthy; not quite so impassioned,
perhaps, as I could wish; but good, and dear, and pure. And as I
have often said, you are absolutely the most ethereal, least sensual
woman I ever knew to exist without inhuman sexlessness. Why do you
talk in such a changed way? We have not been selfish, except when no
one could profit by our being otherwise. You used to say that human
nature was noble and long-suffering, not vile and corrupt, and at
last I thought you spoke truly. And now you seem to take such a much
lower view!"
"I want a humble heart; and a chastened mind; and I have never had
them yet!"
"You have been fearless, both as a thinker and as a feeler, and you
deserved more admiration than I gave. I was too full of narrow
dogmas at that time to see it."
"Don't say that, Jude! I wish my every fearless word and thought
could be rooted out of my history. Self-renunciation--that's
everything! I cannot humiliate myself too much. I should like to
prick myself all over with pins and bleed out the badness that's in
me!"