Part 73 (1/2)
”I-don't hear him! And perhaps-perhaps-”
”What, child?”
”Perhaps he's dead!” she gasped. ”And then-I should be free, and I could go to Jude! ... Ah-no-I forgot her-and G.o.d!”
”Let's go and hearken. No-he's snoring again. But the rain and the wind is so loud that you can hardly hear anything but between whiles.”
Sue had dragged herself back. ”Mrs. Edlin, good-night again! I am sorry I called you out.” The widow retreated a second time.
The strained, resigned look returned to Sue's face when she was alone. ”I must do it-I must! I must drink to the dregs!” she whispered. ”Richard!” she said again.
”Hey-what? Is that you, Susanna?”
”Yes.”
”What do you want? Anything the matter? Wait a moment.” He pulled on some articles of clothing, and came to the door. ”Yes?”
”When we were at Shaston I jumped out of the window rather than that you should come near me. I have never reversed that treatment till now-when I have come to beg your pardon for it, and ask you to let me in.”
”Perhaps you only think you ought to do this? I don't wish you to come against your impulses, as I have said.”
”But I beg to be admitted.” She waited a moment, and repeated, ”I beg to be admitted! I have been in error-even to-day. I have exceeded my rights. I did not mean to tell you, but perhaps I ought. I sinned against you this afternoon.”
”How?”
”I met Jude! I didn't know he was coming. And-”
”Well?”
”I kissed him, and let him kiss me.”
”Oh-the old story!”
”Richard, I didn't know we were going to kiss each other till we did!”
”How many times?”
”A good many. I don't know. I am horrified to look back on it, and the least I can do after it is to come to you like this.”
”Come-this is pretty bad, after what I've done! Anything else to confess?”
”No.” She had been intending to say: ”I called him my darling love.” But, as a contrite woman always keeps back a little, that portion of the scene remained untold. She went on: ”I am never going to see him any more. He spoke of some things of the past: and it overcame me. He spoke of-the children. But, as I have said, I am glad-almost glad I mean-that they are dead, Richard. It blots out all that life of mine!”
”Well-about not seeing him again any more. Come-you really mean this?” There was something in Phillotson's tone now which seemed to show that his three months of remarriage with Sue had somehow not been so satisfactory as his magnanimity or amative patience had antic.i.p.ated.
”Yes, yes!”
”Perhaps you'll swear it on the New Testament?”