It must be destroyed!"

Mrs. Edlin lifted her hands, and Sue excitedly continued to tear the
linen into strips, laying the pieces in the fire.

"You med ha' give it to me!" said the widow. "It do make my heart
ache to see such pretty open-work as that a-burned by the flames--not
that ornamental night-rails can be much use to a' ould 'ooman like I.
My days for such be all past and gone!"

"It is an accursed thing--it reminds me of what I want to forget!"
Sue repeated. "It is only fit for the fire."

"Lord, you be too strict! What do ye use such words for, and condemn
to hell your dear little innocent children that's lost to 'ee! Upon
my life I don't call that religion!"

Sue flung her face upon the bed, sobbing. "Oh, don't, don't! That
kills me!" She remained shaken with her grief, and slipped down upon
her knees.

"I'll tell 'ee what--you ought not to marry this man again!" said
Mrs. Edlin indignantly. "You are in love wi' t' other still!"

"Yes I must--I am his already!"

"Pshoo! You be t' other man's. If you didn't like to commit
yourselves to the binding vow again, just at first, 'twas all the
more credit to your consciences, considering your reasons, and you
med ha' lived on, and made it all right at last. After all, it
concerned nobody but your own two selves."

"Richard says he'll have me back, and I'm bound to go! If he had
refused, it might not have been so much my duty to--give up Jude.
But--" She remained with her face in the bed-clothes, and Mrs. Edlin
left the room.

Phillotson in the interval had gone back to his friend Gillingham,
who still sat over the supper-table. They soon rose, and walked out
on the green to smoke awhile. A light was burning in Sue's room, a
shadow moving now and then across the blind.

Gillingham had evidently been impressed with the indefinable charm of
Sue, and after a silence he said, "Well: you've all but got her again
at last. She can't very well go a second time. The pear has dropped
into your hand."

"Yes! ... I suppose I am right in taking her at her word. I confess
there seems a touch of selfishness in it. Apart from her being what
she is, of course, a luxury for a fogy like me, it will set me right
in the eyes of the clergy and orthodox laity, who have never forgiven
me for letting her go. So I may get back in some degree into my old
track."

"Well--if you've got any sound reason for marrying her again, do it
now in God's name! I was