ct that the
immediate reason of his marriage had proved to be non-existent. But
the marriage remained.

X

The time arrived for killing the pig which Jude and his wife had
fattened in their sty during the autumn months, and the butchering
was timed to take place as soon as it was light in the morning, so
that Jude might get to Alfredston without losing more than a quarter
of a day.

The night had seemed strangely silent. Jude looked out of the window
long before dawn, and perceived that the ground was covered with
snow--snow rather deep for the season, it seemed, a few flakes still
falling.

"I'm afraid the pig-killer won't be able to come," he said to
Arabella.

"Oh, he'll come. You must get up and make the water hot, if you want
Challow to scald him. Though I like singeing best."

"I'll get up," said Jude. "I like the way of my own county."

He went downstairs, lit the fire under the copper, and began feeding
it with bean-stalks, all the time without a candle, the blaze
flinging a cheerful shine into the room; though for him the sense of
cheerfulness was lessened by thoughts on the reason of that blaze--to
heat water to scald the bristles from the body of an animal that as
yet lived, and whose voice could be continually heard from a corner
of the garden. At half-past six, the time of appointment with the
butcher, the water boiled, and Jude's wife came downstairs.

"Is Challow come?" she asked.

"No."

They waited, and it grew lighter, with the dreary light of a snowy
dawn. She went out, gazed along the road, and returning said, "He's
not coming. Drunk last night, I expect. The snow is not enough to
hinder him, surely!"

"Then we must put it off. It is only the water boiled for nothing.
The snow may be deep in the valley."

"Can't be put off. There's no more victuals for the pig. He ate the
last mixing o' barleymeal yesterday morning."

"Yesterday morning? What has he lived on since?"

"Nothing."

"What--he has been starving?"

"Yes. We always do it the last day or two, to save bother with the
innerds. What ignorance, not to know that!"

"That accounts for his crying so. Poor creature!"

"Well--you must do the sticking--there's no help for it. I'll show
you how. Or I'll do it myself--I think I could. Though as it is
such a big pig I had rather Challow had done it. However, his basket
o' knives and things have been already sent on here, and we can use
'em."

"Of cou