school, whence he could hear the usual sing-song tones of the little voices that had not learned Creation's groan.
He waited till a small boy came from the school—one evidently allowed out before hours for some reason or other. Jude held up his hand, and the child came.
"Please call at the school-house and ask Mrs. Phillotson if she will be kind enough to come to the church for a few minutes."
The child departed, and Jude heard him knock at the door of the dwelling. He himself went farther into the church. Everything was new, except a few pieces of carving preserved from the wrecked old fabric, now fixed against the new walls. He stood by these; they seemed akin to the perished people of that place who were his ancestors and Sue's.
A light footstep, which might have been accounted no more than an added drip to the rainfall, sounded in the porch, and he looked round.
"Oh, I didn't think it was you! I didn't—oh, Jude!" A hysterical catch in her breath ended in a succession of them. He advanced, but she quickly recovered and went back.
"Don't go—don't go!" he implored. "This is my last time! I thought it would be less intrusive than to enter your house. And I shall never come again. Don't, then, be unmerciful. Sue, Sue! we are acting by the letter; and the letter killeth!'"
"I'll stay—I won't be unkind!" she said, her mouth quivering and her tears flowing as she allowed him to come closer. But why did you come and do this wrong thing, after doing such a right thing as you have done?"
"What right thing?"
"Marrying Arabella again. It was in the Alfredston paper. She has never been other than yours, Jude—in a proper sense. And therefore you did so well—oh, so well!—in recognizing it—and taking her to you again."
"God above!—and is that all I've come to hear? If
