Jude the Obscure (1896)/Chapter 49
VII
Arabella was preparing breakfast in the down-stairs room of this small, recently hired tenement of her father's. She put her head into the little pork-shop in front, and told Mr. Donn it was ready. Donn, endeavoring to look like a master pork-butcher, in a greasy blue blouse, and with a strap round his waist from which a steel dangled, came in promptly.
"You must mind the shop this morning," he said, casually. "I've to go and get some inwards and half a pig from Lumsdon, and to call elsewhere. If you live here you must put your shoulder to the wheel, at least till I get the business started!"
"Well, for to-day I can't say." She looked deedily into his face. "I've got a prize up-stairs."
"Oh!—What's that?"
"A husband—almost."
"No!"
"Yes. It's Jude. He's come back to me."
"Your old original one? Well, I'm damned!"
"Well, I always did like him, that I will say."
"But how does he come to be up there?" said Donn, humor-struck, and nodding to the ceiling.
"Don't ask inconvenient questions, father. What we've to do is to keep him here till he and I are—as we were."
"How was that?"
"Married."
"Ah.... Well, it is the rummest thing I ever heard of—marrying an old husband again, and so much new blood in the world! He's no catch, to my thinking. I'd have had a new one while I was about it."
"It isn't rum for a woman to want her old husband back, for respectability, though for a man to want his old wife back—well, perhaps it is funny, rather!" And Arabella was suddenly seized with a fit of loud laughter, in which her father joined more moderately.
"Be civil to him, and I'll do the rest," she said, when she had recovered seriousness. "He told me this morning that his head ached fit to burst, and he hardly seemed to know where he was. And no wonder, considering how he mixed his drink last night. We must keep him jolly and cheerful here for a day or two, and not let him go back to his lodging. Whatever you advance I'll pay back to you again. But I must go up and see how he is now, poor deary."
Arabella ascended the stairs, softly opened the door of the first bedroom, and peeped in. Finding that her shorn Samson was asleep, she entered to the bedside and stood regarding him. The fevered flush on his face from the debauch of the previous evening lessened the fragility of his ordinary appearance, and his long lashes, dark brows and curly black hair and beard against the white pillow completed the physiognomy of one whom Arabella, as a woman of rank passions, still felt it worth while to recapture-highly important to recapture as a woman straitened both in means and in reputation. Her ardent gaze seemed to affect him; his quick breathing became suspended, and he opened his eyes.
"How are you now, dear?" said she. "It is I—Arabella."
"Ah!—where— Oh yes, I remember! You gave me shelter.... I am stranded—ill—demoralized—damn bad! That's what I am!"
"Then do stay there. There's nobody in the house but father and me, and you can rest till you are thoroughly well. I'll tell them at the stone-works that you are knocked up."
"I wonder what they are thinking at the lodgings."
"I'll go round and explain. Perhaps you had better let me pay up, or they'll think we've run away."
"Yes. You'll find enough money in my pocket there."
Quite indifferent, and shutting his eyes because he could not bear the daylight in his throbbing eyeballs, Jude seemed to doze again. Arabella took his purse, softly left the room, and, putting on her out-door things, went off to the lodgings she and he had quitted the evening before.
Scarcely half an hour had elapsed ere she reappeared round the corner, walking beside a lad wheeling a truck on which were piled all Jude's household possessions, and also the few of Arabella's things which she had taken to the lodging for her short sojourn there. Jude was in such physical pain from his unfortunate break-down of the previous night, and in such mental pain from the loss of Sue and from having yielded in his half-somnolent state to Arabella, that when he saw his few chattels unpacked and standing before his eyes in this strange bedroom, intermixed with woman's apparel, he scarcely considered how they had come there, or what their coming signalized.
"Now," said Arabella to her father, down-stairs, "we must keep plenty of good liquor going in the house these next few days. I know his nature, and if he once gets into that fearfully low state that he does get into sometimes, he'll never do the honorable thing by me in this world, and I shall be left in the lurch. He must be kept cheerful. He has a little money in the savings-bank, and he has given me his purse to pay for anything necessary. Well, that will be the license; for I must have that ready at hand, to catch him the moment he's in the humor. You must pay for the liquor. A few friends and a quiet, convivial party would be the thing if we could get up. It would advertise the shop, and help me too."
"That can be got up easy enough by anybody who'll afford victuals and drink.... Well, yes—it would advertise the shop—that's true."
Three days later, when Jude had recovered somewhat from the fearful throbbing of his eyes and brain, but was still considerably confused in his mind by what had been supplied to him by Arabella during the interval—to keep him jolly, as she expressed it—the little convivial gathering suggested by her, to wind Jude up to the striking-point, took place.
Donn had only just opened his miserable little pork-and-sausage shop, which had as yet scarce any customers; nevertheless, that party advertised it well, and the Donns acquired a real notoriety among a certain class in Christminster who knew not the colleges, nor their works, nor their ways. Jude was asked if he could suggest any guest in addition to those named by Arabella and her father, and in a saturnine humor of perfect recklessness mentioned Uncle Joe, and Stagg, and the decayed auctioneer, and others whom he remembered as having been frequenters of the well-known tavern during his bout therein years before. He also suggested Freckles and Bower o' Bliss. Arabella took him at his word so far as the men went, but drew the line at the ladies.
Another man they knew, Tinker Taylor, though he lived in the same street, was not invited; but as he went homeward from a late job on the evening of the party, he had occasion to call at the shop for trotters. There were none in, but he was promised some the next morning. While making his inquiry Taylor glanced into the back room, and saw the guests sitting round, card-playing and drinking and otherwise enjoying themselves at Donn's expense. He went home to bed, and on his way out next morning wondered how the party went off. He thought it hardly worth while to call at the shop for his provisions at that hour, Donn and his daughter being probably not up if they caroused late the night before. However, he found in passing that the door was open, and he could hear voices within, though the shutters of the meat-stall were not down. He went and tapped at the sitting-room door, and opened it.
"Well, to be sure!" he said, astonished.
Hosts and guests were sitting card-playing, smoking, and talking, precisely as he had left them eleven hours earlier; the gas was burning and the curtains drawn, though it had been broad daylight for two hours out-of-doors.
"Yes!" cried Arabella, laughing, "here we are, just the same. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves, oughtn't we? But it is a sort of house-warming, you see, and our friends are in no hurry. Come in, Mr. Taylor, and sit down."
The tinker, or, rather, reduced ironmonger, was nothing loath, and entered and took a seat. "I shall lose a quarter, but never mind," he said. Well, really, I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked in! It seemed as if I was flung back again into last night all of a sudden."
"So you are. Pour out for Mr. Taylor."
He now perceived that she was sitting beside Jude, her arm being round his waist. Jude, like the rest of the company, bore on his face the signs of how deeply he had been indulging.
"Well, we've been waiting for certain legal hours to arrive, to tell the truth," she continued, bashfully, and making her spirituous crimson look as much like a maiden blush as possible. "Jude and I have decided to make up matters between us by tying the knot again, as we find we can't do without one another, after all. So, as a bright notion, we agreed to sit on till it was late enough, and go and do it off-hand."
Jude seemed to pay no great heed to what she was announcing, or, indeed, to anything whatever. The entrance of Taylor infused fresh spirit into the company, and they remained sitting, till Arabella whispered to her father: "Now we may as well go."
"But the parson don't know."
"Yes, I told him last night that we might come between eight and nine, as there were reasons of decency for doing it as early and quiet as possible, on account of it being our second marriage, which might make people curious to look on if they knew. He highly approved."
"Oh, very well, I'm ready," said her father, getting up and shaking himself.
"Now, old darling," she said to Jude, "come along, as you promised."
"When did I promise anything?" asked he, whom she had made so tipsy by her special knowledge of that line of business as almost to have made him sober again—or to seem so to those who did not know him.
"Why," said Arabella, affecting dismay, "you've promised to marry me several times as we've sat here tonight. These gentlemen have heard you."
"I don't remember it," said Jude, doggedly. "There's only one woman—but I won't mention her in this Capharnaum!"
Arabella looked towards her father. "Now, Mr. Fawley, be honorable," said Donn. "You and my daughter have been living here together these three or four days, quite on the understanding that you were going to marry her. Of course I shouldn't have had such goings-on in my house if I hadn't understood that. As a point of honor you must do it now."
"Don't say anything against my honor!" enjoined Jude, hotly, standing up. "I'd marry the W——— I'd marry the W of Babylon rather than do anything dishonorable! No reflection on you, my dear. It is a mere rhetorical figure—what they call in the books, hyperbole."
"Keep your figures for your debts to friends who shelter you," said Donn.
"If I am bound in honor to marry her—as I suppose I am—though how I came to be here with her I know no more than a dead man—marry her I will, so help me God! I have never behaved dishonorably to a woman or to any living thing. I am not a man who wants to save himself at the expense of the weaker among us!"
"There—never mind him, deary," said she, putting her cheek against Jude's. "Come up and wash your face, and just put yourself tidy, and off we'll go. Make it up with father."
They shook hands. Jude went up-stairs with her, and soon came down looking tidy and calm. Arabella, too, had hastily arranged herself, and, accompanied by Donn, away they went.
"Don't go," she said to the guests at parting. "I've told the little maid to get the breakfast while we are gone; and when we come back we'll all have some. A good strong cup of tea will set everybody right for going home."
When Arabella, Jude, and Donn had disappeared on their matrimonial errand the assembled guests yawned themselves wider awake, and discussed the situation with great interest. Tinker Taylor, being the most sober, reasoned the most lucidly.
"I don't wish to speak against friends," he said, "but it do seem a rare curiosity for a couple to marry over again! If they couldn't get on the first time when their minds were limp, they won't the second, by my reckoning."
"Do you think he'll do it?"
"He's been put upon his honor by the woman, so he med."
"He'd hardly do it straight off like this. He's got no license nor anything."
"She's got that, bless you. Didn't you hear her say so to her father?"
"Well," said Tinker Taylor, relighting his pipe at the gas-jet, "take her all together, limb by limb, she's not such a bad-looking piece—particular by candle-light. To be sure, halfpence that have been in circulation can't be