Jude the Obsure

He hastened down the lane and round into the straight broad street,

which he followed till it merged in the highway, and all sound of his

late companions had been left behind. Onward he still went, under

the influence of a childlike yearning for the one being in the world

to whom it seemed possible to fly--an unreasoning desire, whose ill

judgement was not apparent to him now. In the course of an hour,

when it was between ten and eleven o'clock, he entered the village of

Lumsdon, and reaching the cottage, saw that a light was burning in

a downstairs room, which he assumed, rightly as it happened, to be

hers.

Jude stepped close to the wall, and tapped with his finger on the

pane, saying impatiently, "Sue, Sue!"

She must have recognized his voice, for the light disappeared from

the apartment, and in a second or two the door was unlocked and

opened, and Sue appeared with a candle in her hand.

"Is it Jude? Yes, it is! My dear, dear cousin, what's the matter?"

"Oh, I am--I couldn't help coming, Sue!" said he, sinking down upon

the doorstep. "I am so wicked, Sue--my heart is nearly broken,

and I could not bear my life as it was! So I have been drinking,

and blaspheming, or next door to it, and saying holy things in

disreputable quarters--repeating in idle bravado words which ought

never to be uttered but reverently! Oh, do anything with me,

Sue--kill me--I don't care! Only don't hate me and despise me like

all the rest of the world!"

"You are ill, poor dear! No, I won't despise you; of course I won't!

Come in and rest, and let me see what I can do for you. Now lean on

me, and don't mind." With one hand holding the candle and the other

supporting him, she led him indoors, and placed him in the only easy

chair the meagrely furnished house afforded, stretching his feet upon

another, and pulling off his boots. Jude, now getting towards his

sober senses, could only say, "Dear, dear Sue!" in a voice broken by

grief and contrition.

She asked him if he wanted anything to eat, but he shook his head.

Then telling him to go to sleep, and that she would come down early

in the morning and get him some breakfast, she bade him good-night

and ascended the stairs.

Almost immediately he fell into a heavy slumber, and did not wake

till dawn. At first he did not know where he was, but by degrees his

situation cleared to him, and he beheld it in all the ghastliness

of a right mind. She knew the worst of him--the very worst. How

could he face her now? She would soon be coming down to see about

breakfast, as she had said, and there would he be in all his shame

confronting her. He could not bear the thought, and softly drawing

on his boots, and taking his hat from the nail on which she had hung

it, he slipped noiselessly out of the house.