III
BUT under the various deterrent influences Jude's instinct
was to approach her timidly, and the next Sunday he went
to the morning service in the Cathedral church of Cardinal
College to gain a further view of her, for he had found
that she frequently attended there.
She did not come, and he awaited her in the afternoon, which was finer.
He knew that if she came at all she would approach the building
along the eastern side of the great green quadrangle from which it
was accessible, and he stood in a corner while the bell was going.
A few minutes before the hour for service she appeared as one of
the figures walking along under the college walls, and at sight of her
he advanced up the side opposite, and followed her into the building,
more than ever glad that he had not as yet revealed himself.
To see her, and to be himself unseen and unknown, was enough for him
at present.
He lingered awhile in the vestibule, and the service was some way advanced
when he was put into a seat. It was a louring, mournful, still afternoon,
when a religion of some sort seems a necessity to ordinary practical men,
and not only a luxury of the emotional and leisured classes. In the dim
light and the baffling glare of the clerestory windows he could discern the
opposite worshippers indistinctly only, but he saw that Sue was among them.
He had not long discovered the exact seat that she occupied when the chanting
of the 119th Psalm in which the choir was engaged reached its second part,
IN QUO CORRIGET, the organ changing to a pathetic Gregorian tune as the
singers gave forth:
Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?
It was the very question that was engaging Jude's attention at this moment.
What a wicked worthless fellow he had been to give vent as he had
done to an animal passion for a woman, and allow it to lead to such
disastrous consequences; then to think of putting an end to himself;
then to go recklessly and get drunk. The great waves of pedal music
tumbled round the choir, and, nursed on the supernatural as he had been,
it is not wonderful that he could hardly believe that the psalm was not
specially set by some regardful Providence for this moment of his first
entry into the solemn building. And yet it was the ordinary psalm for
the twenty-fourth evening of the month.
The girl for whom he was beginning to nourish an extraordinary
tenderness was at this time ensphered by the same harmonies as those
which floated into his ears; and the thought was a delight to him.
She was probably a frequenter of this place, and, steeped body and soul
in church sentiment as she must be by occupation and habit, had, no doubt,
much in common with him. To an impressionable and lonely young man
the consciousness of having at last found anchorage for his thoughts,
which promised to supply both social and spiritual possibilities,
was like the dew of Hermon, and he remained throughout the service in a
sustaining atmosphere of ecstasy.
Though he was loth to suspect it, some people might have said to him
that the atmosphere blew as distinctly from Cyprus as from Galilee.
Jude waited till she had left her seat and passed under the screen
before he himself moved. She did not look towards him, and by
the time he reached the door she was half-way down the broad path.
Being dressed up in his Sunday suit he was inclined to follow
her and reveal himself. But he was not quite ready; and, alas,
ought he to do so with the kind of feeling that was awakening in him?
For though it had seemed to have an ecclesiastical basis during
the service, and he had persuaded himself that such was the case,
he could not altogether be blind to the real nature of the magnetism.
She was such a stranger that the kinship was affectation, and he said,
"It can't be! I, a man with a wife, must not know her!" Still Sue
WAS his own kin, and the fact of his having a wife, even though she
was not in evidence in this hemisphere, might be a help in one sense.
It would put all thought of a tender wish on his part out of
Sue's mind, and make her intercourse with him free and fearless.
It was with some heartache that he saw how little he cared
for the freedom and fearlessness that would result in her from
such knowledge.
Some little time before the date of this service in the cathedral
the pretty, liquid-eyed, light-footed young woman Sue Bridehead
had an afternoon's holiday, and leaving the ecclesiastical
establishment in which she not only assisted but lodged,
took a walk into the country with a book in her hand.
It was one of those cloudless days which sometimes occur
in Wessex and elsewhere between days of cold and wet,
as if intercalated by caprice of the weather-god. She went
along for a mile or two until she came to much higher
ground than that of the city she had left behind her.
The road passed between green fields, and coming to a stile
Sue paused there, to finish the page she was reading,
and then looked back at the towers and domes and pinnacles new
and old.
On the other side of the stile, in the footpath, she beheld
a foreigner with black hair and a sallow face, sitting on the grass
beside a large square board whereon were fixed, as closely as they
could stand, a number of plaster statuettes, some of them bronzed,
which he was re-arranging before proceeding with them on his way.
They were in the main reduced copies of ancient marbles, and comprised
divinities of a very different character from those the girl was
accustomed to see portrayed, among them being a Venus of standard pattern,
a Diana, and, of the other sex, Apollo, Bacchus, and Mars.
Though the figures were many yards away from her the south-west sun
brought them out so brilliantly against the green herbage that she could
discern their contours with luminous distinctness; and being almost
in a line between herself and the church towers of the city they awoke
in her an oddly foreign and contrasting set of ideas by comparison.
The man rose, and, seeing her, politely took off his cap, and cried
"I-i-i-mages!" in an accent that agreed with his appearance.
In a moment he dexterously lifted upon his knee the great board
with its assembled notabilities divine and human, and raised
it to the top of his head, bringing them on to her and resting
the board on the stile. First he offered her his smaller wares--
the busts of kings and queens, then a minstrel, then a winged Cupid.
She shook her head.
"How much are these two?" she said, touching with her finger the Venus
and the Apollo--the largest figures on the tray.
He said she should have them for ten shillings.
"I cannot afford that," said Sue. She offered considerably less,
and to her surprise the image-man drew them from their wire stay
and handed them over the stile. She clasped them as treasures.
When they were paid for, and the man had gone, she began to be
concerned as to what she should do with them. They seemed so very
large now that they were in her possession, and so very naked.
Being of a nervous temperament she trembled at her enterprise.
When she handled them the white pipeclay came off on her gloves
and jacket. After carrying them along a little way openly an idea
came to her, and, pulling some huge burdock leaves, parsley,
and other rank growths from the hedge, she wrapped up her burden
as well as she could in these, so that what she carried appeared
to be an enormous armful of green stuff gathered by a zealous lover
of nature.
"Well, anything is better than those everlasting church fallals!" she said.
But she was still in a trembling state, and seemed almost to wish she had not
bought the figures.
Occasionally peeping inside the leaves to see that Venus's
arm was not broken, she entered with her heathen load into
the most Christian city in the country by an obscure street
running parallel to the main one, and round a corner to
the side door of the establishment to which she was attached.
Her purchases were taken straight up to her own chamber,
and she at once attempted to lock them in a box that was her
very own property; but finding them too cumbersome she wrapped
them in large sheets of brown paper, and stood them on the floor
in a corner.
The mistress of the house, Miss Fontover, was an elderly lady in spectacles,
dressed almost like an abbess; a dab at Ritual, as become one of her business,
and a worshipper at the ceremonial church of St. Silas, in the suburb
of Beersheba before-mentioned, which Jude also had begun to attend.
She was the daughter of a clergyman in reduced circumstances,
and at his death, which had occurred several years before this date,
she boldly avoided penury by taking over a little shop of church
requisites and developing it to its present creditable proportions.
She wore a cross and beads round her neck as her only ornament, and knew
the Christian Year by heart.
She now came to call Sue to tea, and, finding that the girl did not respond
for a moment, entered the room just as the other was hastily putting a string
round each parcel.
"Something you have been buying, Miss Bridehead?" she asked,
regarding the enwrapped objects.
"Yes--just something to ornament my room," said Sue.
"Well, I should have thought I had put enough here already,"
said Miss Fontover, looking round at the Gothic-framed prints
of saints, the Church-text scrolls, and other articles which,
having become too stale to sell, had been used to furnish
this obscure chamber. "What is it? How bulky!" She tore
a little hole, about as big as a wafer, in the brown paper,
and tried to peep in. "Why, statuary? Two figures?
Where did you get them?"
"Oh--I bought them of a travelling man who sells casts"
"Two saints?"
"Yes."
"What ones?"
"St. Peter and St.--St. Mary Magdalen."
"Well--now come down to tea, and go and finish that organ-text, if there's
light enough afterwards."
These little obstacles to the indulgence of what had been
the merest passing fancy created in Sue a great zest for unpacking
her objects and looking at them; and at bedtime, when she was sure
of being undisturbed, she unrobed the divinities in comfort.
Placing the pair of figures on the chest of drawers,
a candle on each side of them, she withdrew to the bed,
flung herself down thereon, and began reading a book she
had taken from her box, which Miss Fontover knew nothing of.
It was a volume of Gibbon, and she read the chapter dealing
with the reign of Julian the Apostate. Occasionally she looked
up at the statuettes, which appeared strange and out of place,
there happening to be a Calvary print hanging between them,
and, as if the scene suggested the action, she at length jumped
up and withdrew another book from her box--a volume of verse--
and turned to the familiar poem--
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean:
The world has grown grey from thy breath!
which she read to the end. Presently she put out the candles, undressed,
and finally extinguished her own light.
She was of an age which usually sleeps soundly, yet to-night
she kept waking up, and every time she opened her eyes there
was enough diffused light from the street to show her the white
plaster figures, standing on the chest of drawers in odd contrast
to their environment of text and martyr, and the Gothic-framed
Crucifix-picture that was only discernible now as a Latin cross,
the figure thereon being obscured by the shades.
On one of these occasions the church clocks struck some small hour.
It fell upon the ears of another person who sat bending
over his books at a not very distant spot in the same city.
Being Saturday night the morrow was one on which Jude had not
set his alarm-clock to call him at his usually early time,
and hence he had stayed up, as was his custom, two or three hours
later than he could afford to do on any other day of the week.
Just then he was earnestly reading from his Griesbach's text.
At the very time that Sue was tossing and staring at her figures,
the policeman and belated citizens passing along under his window
might have heard, if they had stood still, strange syllables
mumbled with fervour within--words that had for Jude an
indescribable enchantment: inexplicable sounds something
like these:--
"ALL HEMIN HEIS THEOS HO PATER, EX HOU TA PANTA, KAI HEMEIS EIS AUTON:"
Till the sounds rolled with reverent loudness, as a book was heard to close:--
"KAI HEIS KURIOS IESOUS CHRISTOS, DI HOU TA PANTA KAI HEMEIS DI AUTOU!"
