ly like a somnambulist, and not
reflectively like a sage; that at the framing of the terrestrial
conditions there seemed never to have been contemplated such
a development of emotional perceptiveness among the creatures
subject to those conditions as that reached by thinking and
educated humanity. But affliction makes opposing forces loom
anthropomorphous; and those ideas were now exchanged for a sense of
Jude and herself fleeing from a persecutor.

"We must conform!" she said mournfully. "All the ancient wrath of
the Power above us has been vented upon us, His poor creatures, and
we must submit. There is no choice. We must. It is no use fighting
against God!"

"It is only against man and senseless circumstance," said Jude.

"True!" she murmured. "What have I been thinking of! I am getting
as superstitious as a savage! ... But whoever or whatever our foe
may be, I am cowed into submission. I have no more fighting strength
left; no more enterprise. I am beaten, beaten! ... 'We are made a
spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men!' I am always
saying that now."

"I feel the same!"

"What shall we do? You are in work now; but remember, it may
only be because our history and relations are not absolutely
known... Possibly, if they knew our marriage had not been formalized they
would turn you out of your job as they did at Aldbrickham!"

"I hardly know. Perhaps they would hardly do that. However, I think
that we ought to make it legal now--as soon as you are able to go
out."

"You think we ought?"

"Certainly."

And Jude fell into thought. "I have seemed to myself lately,"
he said, "to belong to that vast band of men shunned by the
virtuous--the men called seducers. It amazes me when I think of it!
I have not been conscious of it, or of any wrongdoing towards you,
whom I love more than myself. Yet I am one of those men! I wonder
if any other of them are the same purblind, simple creatures as
I? ... Yes, Sue--that's what I am. I seduced you... You were a
distinct type--a refined creature, intended by Nature to be left
intact. But I couldn't leave you alone!"

"No, no, Jude!" she said quickly. "Don't reproach yourself with
being what you are not. If anybody is to blame it is I."

"I supported you in your resolve to leave Phillotson; and without me
perhaps you wouldn't have urged him to let you go."

"I should have, just the same. As to ourselves, the fact of our not
having