ON the morrow between nine and half-past they were journeying back to Christminster, the only two occupants of a compartment in a third-class railway-carriage. Having, like Jude, made rather a hasty toilet to catch the train, Arabella looked a little frowsy, and her face was very far from possessing the animation which had characterized it at the bar the night before. When they came out of the station she found that she still had half an hour to spare before she was due at the bar. They walked in silence a little way out of the town in the direction of Alfredston. Jude looked up the far highway.
"Ah ... poor feeble me!" he murmured at last.
"What?" said she.
"This is the very road by which I came into Christminster years ago full of plans!"
"Well, whatever the road is I think my time is nearly up, as I have to be in the bar by eleven o'clock. And as I said, I shan't ask for the day to go with you to see your aunt. So perhaps we had better part here. I'd sooner not walk up Chief Street with you, since we've come to no conclusion at all."
"Very well. But you said when we were getting up this morning that you had something you wished to tell me before I left?"
"So I had--two things--one in particular. But you wouldn't promise to keep it a secret. I'll tell you now if you promise? As an honest woman I wish you to know it.... It was what I began telling you in the night--about that gentleman who managed the Sydney hotel." Arabella spoke somewhat hurriedly for her. "You'll keep it close?"
"Yes--yes--I promise!" said Jude impatiently. "Of course I don't want to reveal your secrets."
"Whenever I met him out for a walk, he used to say that he was much taken with my looks, and he kept pressing me to marry him. I never thought of coming back to England again; and being out there in Australia, with no home of my own after leaving my father, I at last agreed, and did."
"What--marry him?"
"Yes."
"Regularly--legally--in church?"
"Yes. And lived with him till shortly before I left. It was stupid, I know; but I did! There, now I've told you. Don't round upon me! He talks of coming back to England, poor old chap. But if he does, he won't be likely to find me."
Jude stood pale and fixed.
"Why the devil didn't you tell me last, night!" he said.
"Well--I didn't.... Won't you make it up with me, then?"
"So in talking of 'your husband' to the bar gentlemen you meant him, of course--not me!"
"Of course.... Come, don't fuss about it."
"I have nothing more to say!" replied Jude. "I have nothing at all to say about the--crime--you've confessed to!"
"Crime! Pooh. They don't think much of such as that over there! Lots of 'em do it.... Well, if you take it like that I shall go back to him! He was very fond of me, and we lived honourable enough, and as respectable as any married couple in the colony! How did I know where you were?"
"I won't go blaming you. I could say a good deal; but perhaps it would be misplaced. What do you wish me to do?"
"Nothing. There was one thing more I wanted to tell you; but I fancy we've seen enough of one another for the present! I shall think over what you said about your circumstances, and let you know."
Thus they parted. Jude watched her disappear in the direction of the hotel, and entered the railway station close by. Finding that it wanted three-quarters of an hour of the time at which he could get a train back to Alfredston, he strolled mechanically into the city as far as to the Fourways, where he stood as he had so often stood before, and surveyed Chief Street stretching ahead, with its college after college, in picturesqueness unrivalled except by such Continental vistas as the Street of Palaces in Genoa; the lines of the buildings being as distinct in the morning air as in an architectural drawing. But Jude was far from seeing or criticizing these things; they were hidden by an indescribable consciousness of Arabella's midnight contiguity, a sense of degradation at his revived experiences with her, of her appearance as she lay asleep at dawn, which set upon his motionless face a look as of one accurst. If he could only have felt resentment towards her he would have been less unhappy; but he pitied while he contemned her.
Jude turned and retraced his steps. Drawing again towards the station he started at hearing his name pronounced-- less at the name than at the voice. To his great surprise no other than Sue stood like a vision before him--her look bodeful and anxious as in a dream, her little mouth nervous, and her strained eyes speaking reproachful inquiry.
"Oh, Jude--I am so glad--to meet you like this!" she said in quick, uneven accents not far from a sob. Then she flushed as she observed his thought that they had not met since her marriage.
They looked away from each other to hide their emotion, took each other's hand without further speech, and went on together awhile, till she glanced at him with furtive solicitude. "I arrived at Alfredston station last night, as you asked me to, and there was nobody to meet me! But I reached Marygreen alone, and they told me Aunt was a trifle better. I sat up with her, and as you did not come all night I was frightened about you-- I thought that perhaps, when you found yourself back in the old city, you were upset at--at thinking I was--married, and not there as I used to be; and that you had nobody to speak to; so you had tried to drown your gloom--as you did at that former time when you were disappointed about entering as a student, and had forgotten your promise to me that you never would again. And this, I thought, was why you hadn't come to meet me!"
"And you came to hunt me up, and deliver me, like a good angel!"
"I thought I would come by the morning train and try to find you--in case-- in case----"
"I did think of my promise to you, dear, continually! I shall never break out again as I did, I am sure. I may have been doing nothing better, but I was not doing that--I loathe the thought of it."
"I am glad your staying had nothing to do with that. But," she said, the faintest pout entering into her tone, "you didn't come back last night and meet me, as you engaged to!"
"I didn't--I am sorry to say. I had an appointment at nine o'clock-- too late for me to catch the train that would have met yours, or to get home at all."
Looking at his loved one as she appeared to him now, in his tender thought the sweetest and most disinterested comrade that he had ever had, living largely in vivid imaginings, so ethereal a creature that her spirit could be seen trembling through her limbs, he felt heartily ashamed of his earthliness in spending the hours he had spent in Arabella's company. There was something rude and immoral in thrusting these recent facts of his life upon the mind of one who, to him, was so uncarnate as to seem at times impossible as a human wife to any average man. And yet she was Phillotson's. How she had become such, how she lived as such, passed his comprehension as he regarded her to-day.
"You'll go back with me?" he said. "There's a train just now. I wonder how my aunt is by this time.... And so, Sue, you really came on my account all this way! At what an early time you must have started, poor thing!"
"Yes. Sitting up watching alone made me all nerves for you, and instead of going to bed when it got light I started. And now you won't frighten me like this again about your morals for nothing?"
He was not so sure that she had been frightened about his morals for nothing. He released her hand till they had entered the train,-- it seemed the same carriage he had lately got out of with another-- where they sat down side by side, Sue between him and the window. He regarded the delicate lines of her profile, and the small, tight, applelike convexities of her bodice, so different from Arabella's amplitudes. Though she knew he was looking at her she did not turn to him, but kept her eyes forward, as if afraid that by meeting his own some troublous discussion would be initiated.
"Sue--you are married now, you know, like me; and yet we have been in such a hurry that we have not said a word about it!"
"There's no necessity," she quickly returned.
"Oh well--perhaps not.... But I wish"
"Jude--don't talk about ME--I wish you wouldn't!" she entreated. "It distresses me, rather. Forgive my saying it! ... Where did you stay last night?"
She had asked the question in perfect innocence, to change the topic. He knew that, and said merely, "At an inn," though it would have been a relief to tell her of his meeting with an unexpected one. But the latter's final announcement of her marriage in Australia bewildered him lest what he might say should do his ignorant wife an injury.
Their talk proceeded but awkwardly till they reached Alfredston. That Sue was not as she had been, but was labelled "Phillotson," paralyzed Jude whenever he wanted to commune with her as an individual. Yet she seemed unaltered--he could not say why. There remained the five-mile extra journey into the country, which it was just as easy to walk as to drive, the greater part of it being uphill. Jude had never before in his life gone that road with Sue, though he had with another. It was now as if he carried a bright light which temporarily banished the shady associations of the earlier time.
Sue talked; but Jude noticed that she still kept the conversation from herself. At length he inquired if her husband were well.
"O yes," she said. "He is obliged to be in the school all the day, or he would have come with me. He is so good and kind that to accompany me he would have dismissed the school for once, even against his principles--for he is strongly opposed to giving casual holidays-- only I wouldn't let him. I felt it would be better to come alone. Aunt Drusilla, I knew, was so very eccentric; and his being almost a stranger to her now would have made it irksome to both. Since it turns out that she is hardly conscious I am glad I did not ask him."
Jude had walked moodily while this praise of Phillotson was being expressed. "Mr. Phillotson obliges you in everything, as he ought," he said.
"Of course."
"You ought to be a happy wife."
"And of course I am."
"Bride, I might almost have said, as yet. It is not so many weeks since I gave you to him, and----"
"Yes, I know! I know!" There was something in her face which belied her late assuring words, so strictly proper and so lifelessly spoken that they might have been taken from a list of model speeches in "The Wife's Guide to Conduct." Jude knew the quality of every vibration in Sue's voice, could read every symptom of her mental condition; and he was convinced that she was unhappy, although she had not been a month married. But her rushing away thus from home, to see the last of a relative whom she had hardly known in her life, proved nothing; for Sue naturally did such things as those.
"Well, you have my good wishes now as always, Mrs. Phillotson."
She reproached him by a glance.
"No, you are not Mrs. Phillotson," murmured Jude. "You are dear, free Sue Bridehead, only you don't know it! Wifedom has not yet squashed up and digested you in its vast maw as an atom which has no further individuality."
Sue put on a look of being offended, till she answered, "Nor has husbandom you, so far as I can see!"
"But it has!" he said, shaking his head sadly.
When they reached the lone cottage under the firs, between the Brown House and Marygreen, in which Jude and Arabella had lived and quarrelled, he turned to look at it. A squalid family lived there now. He could not help saying to Sue: "That's the house my wife and I occupied the whole of the time we lived together. I brought her home to that house."
She looked at it. "That to you was what the school-house at Shaston is to me."
"Yes; but I was not very happy there as you are in yours."
She closed her lips in retortive silence, and they walked some way till she glanced at him to see how he was taking it. "Of course I may have exaggerated your happiness--one never knows," he continued blandly.
"Don't think that, Jude, for a moment, even though you may have said it to sting me! He's as good to me as a man can be, and gives me perfect liberty-- which elderly husbands don't do in general.... If you think I am not happy because he's too old for me, you are wrong."
"I don't think anything against him--to you dear."
"And you won't say things to distress me, will you?"
"I will not."
He said no more, but he knew that, from some cause or other, in taking Phillotson as a husband, Sue felt that she had done what she ought not to have done.
They plunged into the concave field on the other side of which rose the village--the field wherein Jude had received a thrashing from the farmer many years earlier. On ascending to the village and approaching the house they found Mrs. Edlin standing at the door, who at sight of them lifted her hands deprecatingly. "She's downstairs, if you'll believe me!" cried the widow. "Out o' bed she got, and nothing could turn her. What will come o't I do not know!"
On entering, there indeed by the fireplace sat the old woman, wrapped in blankets, and turning upon them a countenance like that of Sebastiano's Lazarus. They must have looked their amazement, for she said in a hollow voice:
"Ah--sceered ye, have I! I wasn't going to bide up there no longer, to please nobody! 'Tis more than flesh and blood can bear, to be ordered to do this and that by a feller that don't know half as well as you do your-self! ... Ah--you'll rue this marrying as well as he!" she added, turning to Sue. "All our family do-- and nearly all everybody else's. You should have done as I did, you simpleton! And Phillotson the schoolmaster, of all men! What made 'ee marry him?"
"What makes most women marry, Aunt?"
"Ah! You mean to say you loved the man!"
"I don't meant to say anything definite."
"Do ye love un?"
"Don't ask me, Aunt."
"I can mind the man very well. A very civil, honourable liver; but Lord!-- I don't want to wownd your feelings, but--there be certain men here and there that no woman of any niceness can stomach. I should have said he was one. I don't say so NOW, since you must ha' known better than I--but that's what I SHOULD have said!"
Sue jumped up and went out. Jude followed her, and found her in the outhouse, crying.
"Don't cry, dear!" said Jude in distress. "She means well, but is very crusty and queer now, you know."
"Oh no--it isn't that!" said Sue, trying to dry her eyes. "I don't mind her roughness one bit."
"What is it, then?"
"It is that what she says is--is true!"
"God--what--you don't like him?" asked Jude.
"I don't mean that!" she said hastily. "That I ought-- perhaps I ought not to have married!"
He wondered if she had really been going to say that at first. They went back, and the subject was smoothed over, and her aunt took rather kindly to Sue, telling her that not many young women newly married would have come so far to see a sick old crone like her. In the afternoon Sue prepared to depart, Jude hiring a neighbour to drive her to Alfredston.
"I'll go with you to the station, if you'd like?" he said.
She would not let him. The man came round with the trap, and Jude helped her into it, perhaps with unnecessary attention, for she looked at him prohibitively.
"I suppose--I may come to see you some day, when I am back again at Melchester?" he half-crossly observed.
She bent down and said softly: "No, dear--you are not to come yet. I don't think you are in a good mood."
"Very well," said Jude. "Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" She waved her hand and was gone.
"She's right! I won't go!" he murmured.
He passed the evening and following days in mortifying by every possible means his wish to see her, nearly starving himself in attempts to extinguish by fasting his passionate tendency to love her. He read sermons on discipline, and hunted up passages in Church history that treated of the Ascetics of the second century. Before he had returned from Marygreen to Melchester there arrived a letter from Arabella. The sight of it revived a stronger feeling of self-condemnation for his brief return to her society than for his attachment to Sue.
The letter, he perceived, bore a London postmark instead of the Christminster one. Arabella informed him that a few days after their parting in the morning at Christminster, she had been surprised by an affectionate letter from her Australian husband, formerly manager of the hotel in Sydney. He had come to England on purpose to find her; and had taken a free, fully-licensed public, in Lambeth, where he wished her to join him in conducting the business, which was likely to be a very thriving one, the house being situated in an excellent, densely populated, gin-drinking neighbourhood, and already doing a trade of 200 pounds a month, which could be easily doubled.
As he had said that he loved her very much still, and implored her to tell him where she was, and as they had only parted in a slight tiff, and as her engagement in Christminster was only temporary, she had just gone to join him as he urged. She could not help feeling that she belonged to him more than to Jude, since she had properly married him, and had lived with him much longer than with her first husband. In thus wishing Jude good-bye she bore him no ill-will, and trusted he would not turn upon her, a weak woman, and inform against her, and bring her to ruin now that she had a chance of improving her circumstances and leading a genteel life.
第二天早上九点到九点半之间，他们又坐火车返回基督堂，两个人占了三等车厢的一个隔间。阿拉贝拉因为要赶火车，草草梳洗了一下，样子有点邋遢，脸比起头天晚上在酒吧时候容光焕发。生气盎然，简直判若两人。出站时，她才知道离酒吧上班还有半个钟头。他们不言不语走了一段路，到了市外。路是通到阿尔夫瑞顿的，裘德朝着远处的大道张望。
“哎……我这个没用处的可怜东西哟！”他看完了嘴里直嘟囔。
“怎么回事？”她问。
“我当初上基督堂就走的这条路，还满脑子宏图大略呢！”
“算了吧，管它什么路不路，我得十一点到酒吧上班呢，这会儿快到了。我跟你说过了，我不会请假跟你一块儿去看你姑婆。我看咱们顶好就在这儿散了。反正什么也没商量好，我这会儿得赶快离开你，别一块儿往大成街那边走。”
“那好吧。不过早上起床的时候，你不是有点事想在我走之前跟我说吗？”
“我是要说——两件事——一件得特别说说。不过你是不会答应替我守秘密的。我这会儿就说，你答应不答应守秘密？因为我是个老实巴交的女人，才想着告诉你这件事。昨儿个晚上我已经开了个头了——就是那位在悉尼开旅馆的先生。”阿拉贝拉说话显得比平常有点急。“你嘴能紧吗？”
“好啦，好啦——我答应就是啦！”裘德不耐烦地说。“我当然不想把你的秘密捅出去。”
“这么说吧，我跟他一约着到外头散步，他就老是说我模样长得俊，把他迷住啦，死盯着要我嫁他。我压根儿没想回英国，可我人远在澳洲，离开我爸爸之后，又没个自个儿的家，最后我还是答应嫁给他啦。”
“什么——嫁给他啦？”
“对啦。”
“在教堂里头，按正式手续，按法律规定嫁给他吗？”
“对啦。我回来之前一直跟他一块儿过。这事儿办得有点稀里糊涂，我也知道。哪，我全告诉你啦。你可别给抖露出去呀！他说他要回英国呢，可怜的老不死的。他要是真回来，也不大能找着我。”
裘德怔怔地站着，脸发白。
“见鬼喽！你昨晚上干吗不讲呀？”他说。
“唉——我没……那你不打算跟我摆摆平喽？”
“这么说你跟酒吧客人说的‘你男人’就是指他喽，当然——不是指我。”
“当然不指你。……得啦，别这么大惊小怪的。”
“我还有什么可说的！”裘德回嘴说。“你招认了这个——罪——我还有什么可说呀！”
“罪！呸！他们那边才不把这个当回事呢！……好吧，你要是这么个看法，我干脆就回他那儿去。他才喜欢我呢，我们过得体面极了，跟殖民地别的明媒正娶的夫妻一样，人家才看得起哪！再说我怎么知道你先前在哪儿？”
“我用不着训你啦。我要是说，有一大堆话要说呢。不过说了也许全是对牛弹琴。你希望我干什么？”
“什么也不叫你干。本来还有件事要告诉你，可我觉着咱们见这回面已经够了。你也讲了你这会儿的情形，我要考虑考虑，以后告诉你吧。”
他们就这样散了。裘德看着她往旅馆的那个方向消失以后，就进了旁边的火车站，看看还得等三刻钟，回阿尔夫瑞顿的火车才能开过来，于是茫茫然晃悠到城里，一直晃到四路口，跟从前常伫立它前面一样，又站住谛视向前延展的大成街，但见街旁学院林立，美轮美奂，如临画境，普天下也只有热内亚宫苑大街的大陆风的景色差堪媲美。那些崇楼杰阁在清晨的空气中，线条分外明晰，宛如绘好了的建筑底图。但是看归看，裘德其实对它们视而不见，心里也没什么批评的意思。因为他还让半夜里同阿拉贝拉的肌肤之欢以及黎明时看到她横陈大睡的姿态的那种说不出的感觉纠缠着，因而不由得产生了自甘堕落之恨，而正是这种感觉把那些实在的建筑物遮挡起来了。他脸上木然，显出负罪的表情。如果他能把一切都归罪于她，倒也罢了，可以少难受点。怎奈他此时不只瞧不起她，他还怜悯她。
裘德掉头往回走，快到车站的时候，忽然听见有人喊他的名字，他大吃一惊——惊的不只是有人喊他名字，更是喊他名字的那个声音。果然不错，真是个苏啊，他是太意外了，只见她如幻影般站在他面前——神情犹如梦中身临险境，又惊慌又焦急，双唇微颤，眼睛睁得大大的，分明表现出既有怨意，又有责难。
“哦，裘德呀——这样见到你，我真高兴啊！”她急促地说，声音起伏不定，如泣如诉。打她婚后，他们从未见过面，这会儿她要看他思想有什么变化，不期然而脸红了。
他们俩都朝别处看，好把自己的感情掩藏。他们相互拉着手，没再说别的；等到往前走了会儿，她才惴惴不安地偷看了他一眼。“我按你说的，昨天晚上到了阿尔夫瑞顿，可那儿没人接我呀！不过我还是一个人到了马利格林，人家跟我说姑婆的病稍微见好点。我坐着陪了她一夜；因为你没来，我一直不放心——我当时想你又回到那个呆过的城市，不免想到 ——我结婚了——心里头就怪乱的；我人不在那地方，你连个说话的人也没有；这么着，你又想借酒浇愁吧——跟上回你因为当不上大学生失了望一样，也就把从前答应我决不再犯的话忘光啦……我当时想这一定是你没来接我的缘故啊。”
“所以你就像心慈的天使，想方设法来找我，要把我救出来！”
“我当时就想坐早班车来，要想法把你找到——怕万一——万一……”
“亲爱的，我答应你的话，我始终没忘啊！我现在敢保我决不会再跟从前一样突然犯毛病啦。比那还好的事，我大概也做不到，可是那样的事也不会再干啦——一想到它，我就恶心极啦。”
“你呆在城里，没干那样事，我才高兴呢。不过，”她说，话里捎带着点难以察觉的不快，“你昨晚上没按约好的回来接我呀！”
“我没做到——真对不起。晚上九点我跟人有个约会——太晚了，想赶上那趟车接你，要么直接回马利格林，都不行啦。”
他看着他所爱的女人这会儿的样子，在他的温柔的心中把她这个人世间对他来说最甜蜜、最无私。D的人引为同志，而她主要生活在一个充满灵性的幻想世界中。她有如天仙化人，纯净明洁，她的灵魂就在自己肢体上颤动。一想到他自己竟然同阿拉贝拉同床共枕，那么龌龊下流，不由得羞愧难当。他要是把他刚刚所做所为直戳进她心里，他就是十足的恬不知耻的恶棍啦。她这人摈绝欢爱，脱弃凡俗，有时看起来殆难嫁与常人，做个通达人情的妻子，然而她又的的确确是费乐生的妻子。她怎么会成了这个样？而她成了这个样又怎么生活下去？他瞧着此时此刻的她，对个中奥妙殊难索解。
“你跟我回去好不好？”他说，“火车等等就到了。我还不知道姑婆这会儿怎么样。……苏呀，你是为我跑了这么多路啊。你得起多早动身啊，可怜的孩子！”
“是哟。一个人坐在那儿看姑婆，我一心都想着你怎么啦。我根本没睡过，天一亮就动身了。以后你不会再平白无故地乱来，弄得我担惊害怕吧！”
裘德倒不一定认为她所以担惊害怕，完全是因为他平白无故地乱来。上车之前，他才把她的手松开——他先前跟另外那个人好像也坐的这节车箱。他们并排坐着，苏坐在他和车窗之间。他打量着她的侧影，线条是那么精致优雅。她穿的是紧身衣，胸部绷得紧紧的，凸起的部分小小的，像是苹果，同阿拉贝拉丰满硕大的胸部大异其趣。他看着她，她却没转过脸来，眼睛一直朝前看，仿佛怕一跟他四目相对，就免不了惹起一番令人烦恼的争端。
“苏啊——你这会儿跟我一样结了婚啦，可咱们一直忙手忙脚的，这件事咱们还没顾得上谈哪！”
“没有谈的必要！”她很快顶回去。
“哦，嗬——也许没……可是我希望——”
“裘德——别谈我好吧——我希望你别提啦！”她恳求着。“一提这事，我就难受。我不该说这个话，你就担待着吧！……，你昨天在哪儿过的夜呀？”
她这样问纯属无心，无非想借此换个话题。他心里明白，所以另说了句，“在客店里过的。”按说他要是把意外遇到另外那个人的事告诉她，心里倒要舒坦些，但是那个人既然最后已经讲明白在澳洲结了婚，他反而觉着为难，唯恐他无论怎么说，都不免对他那个无知无识的妻子有所损害。
他们一路谈着，就到了阿尔夫瑞顿，不过谈来谈去总是不自然。苏非复过去可比了，她的名字冠上了“费乐生”这个标签，即使他一心想把她当成独立的个人跟她谈谈心，这一来，也叫他泄了气，难以启齿。然而她似乎依然故我，没有变化——不过对这他也讲不出个所以然。现在还剩下往乡下走的五英里路，大部分是上坡路，走起来跟坐车一样不方便。裘德这辈子是头一回跟苏一块儿走这条路，从前他是跟另外那个人一块儿走的。这会儿他仿佛举着一盏明灯，暂时把阴暗的过去驱散了。
她还在说话；但是裘德注意到她仍然设法避免提到她自己。最后他就问她的丈夫情况如何。
“哦，是啊。”她说。“他成天价拴在学校里头，脱不开身，要不然就跟我一块儿来啦。他这人心才好哪，老替人家想，为着陪我来，连他自己立的规矩也顾不得了，只好请回假——因为他一向是坚决反对请假，还是我把他劝住了。我觉着一个人来倒好些。多喜姑婆这个人我知道，脾气特古怪。她等于不认识他，那就把两边都弄得别别扭扭的。既然她神志不清，我倒高兴他没来啊。”
裘德一边听着这番对费乐生的夸奖，一边闷闷不乐地往前走。“费乐生先生凡是该为你想的，处处都替你想周到啦。”他说。
“可不是嘛。”
“你准是位快活的太太喽。”
“那还用说嘛。”
“新娘子呀，到现在，我大概还该这么称呼吧。我把你交给他到现在还没几个礼拜吧，再说——”
“好啦，我知道！我知道！”她脸上那股子神气跟她刚说出来的理直气壮的话不太搭配，因为她刚才说得那么有板有眼，那么于干巴巴，就如同把《家庭主妇指南》里的模范语言照本宣科了一遍。裘德深知苏说话声音每一点颤动都有其含义，他能解读她心清变化的每一点迹象。她结婚固然不到一个月，但她是不快活的，这一点他深信不疑。不过单凭她仓促离家，远道而来，同这辈子几乎不相识的亲戚诀别，也证明不了什么道理；因为她做起这样的事来自自然然，也跟做别的事一样。
“好啦，费乐生太太，请你接受我这会儿是、也永远是对你的良好祝愿吧。”
她瞪了他一眼，表示责怪。
“不是呀，你不是费乐生太太。”裘德嘟囔着。“你是亲爱的、独立不羁的苏·柏瑞和呀，你自己还没明白呢！相夫持家之道好比其大无比的牛胃，还没把你这个微不足道的东西吞噬消化，临了让你没了自己的个性呢。”
苏装出气恼的样子，然后她回答说：“照我看，当家作主的为夫之道也没把你——”
“可是它的确弄得我没个性啦！”他说，伤心地摇摇头。
他们走到了棕房子和马利格林之间冷杉下，裘德和阿拉贝拉一同生活过、争吵过的孤零零的小房子，他这时掉过头来看它。那儿住着一个挺穷苦的人家。他忍不住对苏说：“我跟妻子一块儿过的那阵子，一直住那个房子里头。我从她家把她带过来的。”
她瞧着房子。“那房子跟你的关系如同小学校舍跟我的关系。”
“那倒是不错，不过我当初住在那儿，可不像你这会儿在家里那么快活！”
她闭着嘴，以沉默表示不以为然。他们又往前走了一段路，这时她又对他看着，想弄明白他对她这样的态度有什么反应。“当然我也许把你这会儿的快活说得过分了——这谁又知道呢。”他淡淡地说下去。
“裘德，就算你说这样的话是刺我，你也别再往这上头想好吧。他对我不错，凡是按男人该做的，他都做到了，也给了我充分的活动自由——年纪大的男人一般做不到这地步。……要是你认为他年纪太大，对我不合适，我就不快活，那你就错啦。”
“亲爱的，我可没想说他什么坏话——没想对你说呀。”
“那你就别再说叫我难过的事好吧，行不行？”
他没再说什么，不过他知道，总是有什么原因让苏感到她选择费乐生做丈夫，是做了件不该做的事动
他们下降到低洼处的麦田，它的一侧上面就是马利格林村——裘德多年前就在这块麦田里让庄稼汉陶大抽打过。他们爬上坡子，朝村里走，快到姑婆家的时候，看见艾林太太站在门口。她一瞧见他们，就把手举起来，似乎表示他们来得不合时宜。“她下楼啦，信不信你们看就是了！”寡妇嚷嚷着。“她硬是下了床，怎么劝也不行。我真不知道要出什么事哪！”
他们进门的时候，老太婆的确坐在壁炉边上，身上裹着毯子，脸掉过来对着他们看，那张脸活像塞巴斯蒂亚诺画的拉萨路的脸。他们准是露出惊讶的神气，因为她用虚弱的声音说：
“唉——我把你们吓着啦！我可要在这儿呆长了，才不想让人家心里高兴哪！我可不想找个不懂事的，知道的还没你一半多，把你折腾来折腾去的，哪个身子骨吃得消哟！唉，你就要跟他一样后悔这个婚姻啦！”她转过脸来，对苏接着说，“咱们家的人全这样——别的人也差不多哟！你就得像我这么着才行哪，你这个傻丫头！何况你又是那么百里挑一地找了那个小学老师费乐生！你嫁给他倒是图什么呀？”
“姑婆，难道大多数女人嫁人都是为图什么？”
“唉！你这是想说你爱那个男人！”
“我什么明明白白的话都没说。”
“那你是爱他喽？”
“别问我啦，姑婆。”
“那男人我记得挺清楚。是个挺斯文、也挺体面的人物；不过老天爷哟！——我不是要伤你的感情，不过到处都有那么些男人，什么讨人疼的女人都吃不消。我本来想说他就是一个。我这会儿就不说啦，因为你大概知道得比我清楚啦——不过这也是我早该说的呀！”
她跳起来，跑出了屋子。裘德跟着她出去，在披子里找到她，她哭了。
“别哭啦，亲爱的！”裘德痛苦地说，“她本意还是好的，不过她这会儿粗里粗气、怪里怪气就是啦，你知道。”
“哦，不是——不是那么回事。”苏说，想擦干眼泪。“她粗不粗，我一点不在乎。”
“那又为什么呢？”
“因为她说的是实话！”
“上帝啊——怎么——你不喜欢他？”裘德问。
“我不是那个意思！”她脱口而出。“我顶好——也许顶好没结婚！”
他怀疑她原来是不是真想说出这样的话。他们回到屋子里，原来谈的事算过去了。姑婆对苏相当亲热，对她说，刚结婚的年轻女人难得像她这么老远地来看一个生了病的讨厌的老家伙。苏要在下午离开，裘德便找了一位邻居赶车送她到阿尔夫瑞顿。
“要是你愿意，我跟你一块儿到车站好吧？”他说。
她不愿他去。邻居赶着马车过来了，裘德扶她上了车，也许这样显得过分热心吧，因为她看看他，示意他不该这样。
“我打算——我回麦尔切斯特以后，哪天去看看你，你看行吧？”他悻悻地说。
她俯下身来，温柔地说：“不行，亲爱的——你想来，可还不是时候。我觉得你现在心情不怎么好。”
“就是啦。”裘德说。“再见！”
“再见！”她摇摇手就走了。
“她说得不错！我不该去！”他嘟囔着。
那天晚上和以后几大，他死命压制自己要想去看她的愿望。为了存心扼杀使他神魂颠倒的爱情，把这种愿望消灭于无形中，他差点没把自己饿垮。他诵读自律训条，还专门捡出教会史讲述第二世纪苦行主义的篇章来学习。他还没从马利格林回麦尔切斯特，就收到阿拉贝拉的一封信。他一看到信，就为自己裹进了她那个世界而良心受到谴责，要比他因恋恋于苏而自责更为强烈。
他一眼看出来信上盖的不是基督堂邮戳，而是伦敦的。阿拉贝拉告诉他，他们俩那天早晨在基督堂分手后没几天，她很意外地收到先前在悉尼一家旅馆当经理的澳洲丈夫的亲切的来信。他是专门到英国来找她的，在兰贝斯地方开了家有全份营业执照、便于经营的酒馆，盼望她到他那儿，一块儿做生意，以后酒馆大概会生意兴隆，因为它地处人烟稠密，爱喝金酒的头等居民区，现在一个月生意已经做到两百镑，往后不用费劲就能加一倍。
因为那个人说他至今还非常爱她，求她告诉他她在什么地方，再说他们分手不过因为小吵小闹，而她在基督堂干的活儿也不过临时性质，所以经他一劝，就上他那儿去了。她总不免觉得她跟他的关系比跟裘德的近乎多了，因为她是明媒正娶嫁他的，在一块儿过的日子也比跟头一个丈夫长得多。她这样向裘德表示各奔前程，决不是对他抱有恶感，也完全相信他不会跟她这软弱无能的女人过不去，不会给她到处宣扬，不会在她现在刚有个机会改善境遇，过上体面生活的时候，把她毁掉。