solutely worthless and contemptible. And this one
is not that, anyhow!"

Sue drew a nervous breath or two. "She is--I fear! ... Now
Jude--good-night,--please!"

"I mustn't stay?--Not just once more? As it has been so many
times--O Sue, my wife, why not!"

"No--no--not wife! ... I am in your hands, Jude--don't tempt me back
now I have advanced so far!"

"Very well. I do your bidding. I owe that to you, darling, in
penance for how I overruled it at the first time. My God, how
selfish I was! Perhaps--perhaps I spoilt one of the highest and
purest loves that ever existed between man and woman! ... Then let
the veil of our temple be rent in two from this hour!"

He went to the bed, removed one of the pair of pillows thereon, and
flung it to the floor.

Sue looked at him, and bending over the bed-rail wept silently.
"You don't see that it is a matter of conscience with me, and not
of dislike to you!" she brokenly murmured. "Dislike to you! But I
can't say any more--it breaks my heart--it will be undoing all I
have begun! Jude--good-night!"

"Good-night," he said, and turned to go.

"Oh but you shall kiss me!" said she, starting up. "I
can't--bear--!"

He clasped her, and kissed her weeping face as he had scarcely ever
done before, and they remained in silence till she said, "Good-bye,
good-bye!" And then gently pressing him away she got free, trying to
mitigate the sadness by saying: "We'll be dear friends just the same,
Jude, won't we? And we'll see each other sometimes--yes!--and forget
all this, and try to be as we were long ago?"

Jude did not permit himself to speak, but turned and descended the
stairs.

IV

The man whom Sue, in her mental _volte-face_, was now regarding as
her inseparable husband, lived still at Marygreen.

On the day before the tragedy of the children, Phillotson had seen
both her and Jude as they stood in the rain at Christminster watching
the procession to the theatre. But he had said nothing of it at the
moment to his companion Gillingham, who, being an old friend, was
staying with him at the village aforesaid, and had, indeed, suggested
the day's trip to Christminster.

"What are you thinking of?" said Gillingham, as they went home. "The
university degree you never obtained?"

"No, no," said Phillotson gruffly. "Of somebody I saw to-day." In a
moment he added, "Susanna."

"I saw her, too."

"You said nothing."

"I didn't wish to draw your attentio