"I mean it is a nominal marriage only. It hasn't been more than that at all since I came back to him!"
"Sue!" he said. Pressing her to him in his arms he bruised her lips with kisses: "If misery can know happiness, I have a moment's happiness now! Now, in the name of all you hold holy, tell me the truth, and no lie. You do love me still?"
"I do! You know it too well! … But I mustn't do this! I mustn't kiss you back as I would!"
"But do!"
"And yet you are so dear!—and you look so ill—"
"And so do you! There's one more, in memory of our dead little children—yours and mine!"
The words struck her like a blow, and she bent her head. "I mustn't —I can't go on with this!" she gasped presently. "But there, there, darling; I give you back your kisses; I do, I do! ␎ And now I'll hate myself for ever for my sin!"
"No—let me make my last appeal. Listen to this! We've both remarried out of our senses. I was made drunk to do it. You were the same. I was gin-drunk; you were creed-drunk. Either form of intoxication takes away the nobler vision… Let us then shake off our mistakes, and run away together!"
"No; again no! … Why do you tempt me so far, Jude! It is too merciless! … But I've got over myself now. Don't follow me—don't look at me. Leave me, for pity's sake!"
She ran up the church to the east end, and Jude did as she requested. He did not turn his head, but took up his blanket, which she had not seen, and went straight out. As he passed the end of the church she heard his coughs mingling with the rain on the windows, and in a last instinct of human affection, even now unsubdued by her fetters, she sprang up as if to go and succour him. But she knelt down again, and stopped her ears with her hands till all possible sound of him had passed away.