lot more illustrious gents of that sort. It's Remembrance Week, you know. The cheers come from the young men."
"Aye; young and strong-lunged! Not like our poor boy here."
An occasional word, as from some one making a speech, floated from the open windows of the Theatre across to this quiet corner, at which there seemed to be a smile of some sort upon the marble features of Jude; while the old, superseded, Delphin editions of Virgil and Homer, and the dog-eared Greek Testament on the neighboring shelf, and the few other volumes of the sort that he had not parted with, roughened with stone-dust where he had been in the habit of catching them up for a few minutes between his labors, seemed to pale to a sickly cast at the sounds. The bells struck out joyously, and their reverberations travelled round the bedroom.
Arabella's eyes removed from Jude to Mrs. Edlin. "D'ye think she will come?" she asked.
"I could not say. She swore not to see him again."
"How is she looking?"
"Tired and miserable, poor heart. Years and years older than when you saw her last. Quite a staid, worn woman now. 'Tis the man—she can't stomach un, even now!"
"If Jude had been alive to see her, he would hardly have cared for her any more, perhaps."
"That's what we don't know.... Didn't he ever ask you to send for her, since he came to see her in that strange way?"
"No. Quite the contrary. I offered to send, and he said I was not to let her know how ill he was."
"Did he forgive her?"
"Not as I know."
"Well—poor little thing, 'tis to be believed she's found forgiveness somewhere! She said she had found peace!"
