David Herbert Lawrence
Sons and Lovers
Part One
Chapter I
The Early Married Life of the Morels
The Bottoms succeeded to Hell Row Hell Row was a block of thatched bulging
cottages that stood by the brookside on Greenhill Lane There lived the
colliers who worked in the little ginpits two fields away The brook ran under
the alder trees scarcely soiled by these small mines whose coal was drawn to
the surface by donkeys that plodded wearily in a circle round a gin And all
over the countryside were these same pits some of which had been worked in the
time of Charles II the few colliers and the donkeys burrowing down like ants
into the earth making queer mounds and little black places among the
cornfields and the meadows And the cottages of these coalminers in blocks
and pairs here and there together with odd farms and homes of the stockingers
straying over the parish formed the village of Bestwood
Then some sixty years ago a sudden change took place The ginpits were
elbowed aside by the large mines of the financiers The coal and iron field of
Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire was discovered Carston Waite and Co appeared
Amid tremendous excitement Lord Palmerston formally opened the companys first
mine at Spinney Park on the edge of Sherwood Forest
About this time the notorious Hell Row which through growing old had
acquired an evil reputation was burned down and much dirt was cleansed away
Carston Waite amp Co found they had struck on a good thing so down the
valleys of the brooks from Selby and Nuttall new mines were sunk until soon
there were six pits working From Nuttall high up on the sandstone among the
woods the railway ran past the ruined priory of the Carthusians and past Robin
Hoods Well down to Spinney Park then on to Minton a large mine among
cornfields from Minton across the farmlands of the valleyside to Bunkers
Hill branching off there and running north to Beggarlee and Selby that looks
over at Crich and the hills of Derbyshire six mines like black studs on the
countryside linked by a loop of fine chain the railway
To accommodate the regiments of miners Carston Waite and Co built the
Squares great quadrangles of dwellings on the hillside of Bestwood and then
in the brook valley on the site of Hell Row they erected the Bottoms
The Bottoms consisted of six blocks of miners dwellings two rows of three
like the dots on a blanksix domino and twelve houses in a block This double
row of dwellings sat at the foot of the rather sharp slope from Bestwood and
looked out from the attic windows at least on the slow climb of the valley
towards Selby
The houses themselves were substantial and very decent One could walk all
round seeing little front gardens with auriculas and saxifrage in the shadow of
the bottom block sweetwilliams and pinks in the sunny top block seeing neat
front windows little porches little privet hedges and dormer windows for the
attics But that was outside that was the view on to the uninhabited parlours
of all the colliers wives The dwellingroom the kitchen was at the back of
the house facing inward between the blocks looking at a scrubby back garden
and then at the ashpits And between the rows between the long lines of
ashpits went the alley where the children played and the women gossiped and
the men smoked So the actual conditions of living in the Bottoms that was so
well built and that looked so nice were quite unsavoury because people must
live in the kitchen and the kitchens opened on to that nasty alley of ashpits
Mrs Morel was not anxious to move into the Bottoms which was already
twelve years old and on the downward path when she descended to it from
Bestwood But it was the best she could do Moreover she had an end house in
one of the top blocks and thus had only one neighbour on the other side an
extra strip of garden And having an end house she enjoyed a kind of
aristocracy among the other women of the between houses because her rent was
five shillings and sixpence instead of five shillings a week But this
superiority in station was not much consolation to Mrs Morel
She was thirtyone years old and had been married eight years A rather
small woman of delicate mould but resolute bearing she shrank a little from
the first contact with the Bottoms women She came down in the July and in the
September expected her third baby
Her husband was a miner They had only been in their new home three weeks
when the wakes or fair began Morel she knew was sure to make a holiday of
it He went off early on the Monday morning the day of the fair The two
children were highly excited William a boy of seven fled off immediately
after breakfast to prowl round the wakes ground leaving Annie who was only
five to whine all morning to go also Mrs Morel did her work She scarcely
knew her neighbours yet and knew no one with whom to trust the little girl So
she promised to take her to the wakes after dinner
William appeared at halfpast twelve He was a very active lad fairhaired
freckled with a touch of the Dane or Norwegian about him
»Can I have my dinner mother« he cried rushing in with his cap on
»Cause it begins at halfpast one the man says so«
»You can have your dinner as soon as its done« replied the mother
»Isnt it done« he cried his blue eyes staring at her in indignation
»Then Im goin beout it«
»Youll do nothing of the sort It will be done in five minutes It is only
halfpast twelve«
»Theyll be beginnin« the boy half cried half shouted
»You wont die if they do« said the mother »Besides its only halfpast
twelve so youve a full hour«
The lad began hastily to lay the table and directly the three sat down
They were eating batterpudding and jam when the boy jumped off his chair and
stood perfectly still Some distance away could be heard the first small braying
of a merrygoround and the tooting of a horn His face quivered as he looked
at his mother
»I told you« he said running to the dresser for his cap
»Take your pudding in your hand and its only five past one so you were
wrong you havent got your twopence« cried the mother in a breath
The boy came back bitterly disappointed for his twopence then went off
without a word
»I want to go I want to go« said Annie beginning to cry
»Well and you shall go whining wizzening little stick« said the mother
And later in the afternoon she trudged up the hill under the tall hedge with her
child The hay was gathered from the fields and cattle were turned on to the
eddish It was warm peaceful
Mrs Morel did not like the wakes There were two sets of horses one going
by steam one pulled round by a pony three organs were grinding and there came
odd cracks of pistolshots fearful screeching of the cocoanut mans rattle
shouts of the Aunt Sally man screeches from the peepshow lady The mother
perceived her son gazing enraptured outside the Lion Wallace booth at the
pictures of this famous lion that had killed a negro and maimed for life two
white men She left him alone and went to get Annie a spin of toffee Presently
the lad stood in front of her wildly excited
»You never said you was coming isnt the a lot of things that lions
killed three men Ive spent my tuppence an look here«
He pulled from his pocket two eggcups with pink mossroses on them
»I got these from that stall where yave ter get them marbles in them holes
An I got these two in two goes aepenny a go theyve got mossroses on
look here I wanted these«
She knew he wanted them for her
»Hm« she said pleased »They are pretty«
»Shall you carry em cause Im frightened o breakin em«
He was tipful of excitement now she had come led her about the ground
showed her everything Then at the peepshow she explained the pictures in a
sort of story to which he listened as if spellbound He would not leave her
All the time he stuck close to her bristling with a small boys pride of her
For no other woman looked such a lady as she did in her little black bonnet and
her cloak She smiled when she saw women she knew When she was tired she said
to her son
»Well are you coming now or later«
»Are you goin aready« he cried his face full of reproach
»Already It is past four I know«
»What are you goin aready for« he lamented
»You neednt come if you dont want« she said
And she went slowly away with her little girl whilst her son stood watching
her cut to the heart to let her go and yet unable to leave the wakes As she
crossed the open ground in front of the Moon and Stars she heard men shouting
and smelled the beer and hurried a little thinking her husband was probably in
the bar
At about halfpast six her son came home tired now rather pale and
somewhat wretched He was miserable though he did not know it because he had
let her go alone Since she had gone he had not enjoyed his wakes
»Has my dad been« he asked
»No« said the mother
»Hes helping to wait at the Moon and Stars I seed him through that black
tin stuff wi holes in on the window wi his sleeves rolled up«
»Ha« exclaimed the mother shortly »Hes got no money An hell be
satisfied if he gets his lowance whether they give him more or not«
When the light was fading and Mrs Morel could see no more to sew she rose
and went to the door Everywhere was the sound of excitement the restlessness
of the holiday that at last infected her She went out into the side garden
Women were coming home from the wakes the children hugging a white lamb with
green legs or a wooden horse Occasionally a man lurched past almost as full
as he could carry Sometimes a good husband came along with his family
peacefully But usually the women and children were alone The stayathome
mothers stood gossiping at the corners of the alley as the twilight sank
folding their arms under their white aprons
Mrs Morel was alone but she was used to it Her son and her little girl
slept upstairs so it seemed her home was there behind her fixed and stable
But she felt wretched with the coming child The world seemed a dreary place
where nothing else would happen for her at least until William grew up But
for herself nothing but this dreary endurance till the children grew up And
the children She could not afford to have this third She did not want it The
father was serving beer in a public house swilling himself drunk She despised
him and was tied to him This coming child was too much for her If it were not
for William and Annie she was sick of it the struggle with poverty and
ugliness and meanness
She went into the front garden feeling too heavy to take herself out yet
unable to stay indoors The heat suffocated her And looking ahead the prospect
of her life made her feel as if she were buried alive
The front garden was a small square with a privet hedge There she stood
trying to soothe herself with the scent of flowers and the fading beautiful
evening Opposite her small gate was the stile that led uphill under the tall
hedge between the burning glow of the cut pastures The sky overhead throbbed
and pulsed with light The glow sank quickly off the field the earth and the
hedges smoked dusk As it grew dark a ruddy glare came out on the hilltop and
out of the glare the diminished commotion of the fair
Sometimes down the trough of darkness formed by the path under the hedges
men came lurching home One young man lapsed into a run down the steep bit that
ended the hill and went with a crash into the stile Mrs Morel shuddered He
picked himself up swearing viciously rather pathetically as if he thought the
stile had wanted to hurt him
She went indoors wondering if things were never going to alter She was
beginning by now to realise that they would not She seemed so far away from her
girlhood she wondered if it were the same person walking heavily up the back
garden at the Bottoms as had run so lightly up the breakwater at Sheerness ten
years before
»What have I to do with it« she said to herself »What have I to do with
all this Even the child I am going to have It doesnt seem as if I were taken
into account«
Sometimes life takes hold of one carries the body along accomplishes ones
history and yet is not real but leaves oneself as it were slurred over
»I wait« Mrs Morel said to herself »I wait and what I wait for can
never come«
Then she straightened the kitchen lit the lamp mended the fire looked out
the washing for the next day and put it to soak After which she sat down to
her sewing Through the long hours her needle flashed regularly through the
stuff Occasionally she sighed moving to relieve herself And all the time she
was thinking how to make the most of what she had for the childrens sakes
At halfpast eleven her husband came His cheeks were very red and very
shiny above his black moustache His head nodded slightly He was pleased with
himself
»Oh Oh waitin for me lass Ive bin elpin Anthony an whats think hes
gen me Nowt br a lousy haefcrown an thats ivry penny «
»He thinks youve made the rest up in beer« she said shortly
»An I avent that I avent You blieve me Ive ad very little this
day I have an all« His voice went tender »Here an I browt thee a bit o
brandysnap an a cocoanut for th children« He laid the gingerbread and the
cocoanut a hairy object on the table »Nay tha niver said thankyer for nowt
i thy life did ter«
As a compromise she picked up the cocoanut and shook it to see if it had
any milk
»Its a good un you may back yer life o that I got it fra Bill
Hodgkisson Bill I says tha non wants them three nuts does ter Arena ter for
giein me one for my bit of a lad an wench I ham Walter my lad e says
tae which on em ters a mind An so I took one an thanked im I didnt
like ter shake it afore is eyes but e says Thad better mae sure its a
good un Walt An so yer see I knowed it was Hes a nice chap is Bill
Hodgkisson es a nice chap«
»A man will part with anything so long as hes drunk and youre drunk along
with him« said Mrs Morel
»Eh tha mucky little ussy whos drunk I shd like ter know« said Morel
He was extraordinarily pleased with himself because of his days helping to
wait in the Moon and Stars He chattered on
Mrs Morel very tired and sick of his babble went to bed as quickly as
possible while he raked the fire
Mrs Morel came of a good old burgher family famous independents who had
fought with Colonel Hutchinson and who remained stout Congregationalists Her
grandfather had gone bankrupt in the lacemarket at a time when so many
lacemanufacturers were ruined in Nottingham Her father George Coppard was an
engineer a large handsome haughty man proud of his fair skin and blue eyes
but more proud still of his integrity Gertrude resembled her mother in her
small build But her temper proud and unyielding she had from the Coppards
George Coppard was bitterly galled by his own poverty He became foreman of
the engineers in the dockyard at Sheerness Mrs Morel Gertrude was the
second daughter She favoured her mother loved her mother best of all but she
had the Coppards clear defiant blue eyes and their broad brow She remembered
to have hated her fathers overbearing manner towards her gentle humorous
kindlysouled mother She remembered running over the breakwater at Sheerness
and finding the boat She remembered to have been petted and flattered by all
the men when she had gone to the dockyard for she was a delicate rather proud
child She remembered the funny old mistress whose assistant she had become
whom she had loved to help in the private school And she still had the Bible
that John Field had given her She used to walk home from chapel with John Field
when she was nineteen He was the son of a welltodo tradesman had been to
college in London and was to devote himself to business
She could always recall in detail a September Sunday afternoon when they
had sat under the vine at the back of her fathers house The sun came through
the chinks of the vineleaves and made beautiful patterns like a lace scarf
falling on her and on him Some of the leaves were clean yellow like yellow
flat flowers
»Now sit still« he had cried »Now your hair I dont know what it is like
Its a bright as copper and gold as red as burnt copper and it has gold
threads where the sun shines on it Fancy their saying its brown Your mother
calls it mousecolour«
She had met his brilliant eyes but her clear face scarcely showed the
elation which rose within her
»But you say you dont like business« she pursued
»I dont I hate it« he cried hotly
»And you would like to go into the ministry« she half implored
»I should I should love it if I thought I could make a firstrate
preacher«
»Then why dont you why dont you« Her voice rang with defiance »If I
were a man nothing would stop me«
She held her head erect He was rather timid before her
»But my fathers so stiffnecked He means to put me into the business and
I know hell do it«
»But if youre a man« she had cried
»Being a man isnt everything« he replied frowning with puzzled
helplessness
Now as she moved about her work at the Bottoms with some experience of
what being a man meant she knew that it was not everything
At twenty owing to her health she had left Sheerness Her father had
retired home to Nottingham John Fields father had been ruined the son had
gone as a teacher in Norwood She did not hear of him until two years later
she made determined inquiry He had married his landlady a woman of forty a
widow with property
And still Mrs Morel preserved John Fields Bible She did not now believe
him to be Well she understood pretty well what he might or might not have
been So she preserved his Bible and kept his memory intact in her heart for
her own sake To her dying day for thirtyfive years she did not speak of him
When she was twentythree years old she met at a Christmas party a young
man from the Erewash Valley Morel was then twentyseven years old He was well
setup erect and very smart He had wavy black hair that shone again and a
vigorous black beard that had never been shaved His cheeks were ruddy and his
red moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily He
had that rare thing a rich ringing laugh Gertrude Coppard had watched him
fascinated He was so full of colour and animation his voice ran so easily into
comic grotesque he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody Her own father
had a rich fund of humour but it was satiric This mans was different soft
nonintellectual warm a kind of gambolling
She herself was opposite She had a curious receptive mind which found much
pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk She was clever in leading
folk to talk She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual What she
liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with
some educated man This she did not often enjoy So she always had people tell
her about themselves finding her pleasure so
In her person she was rather small and delicate with a large brow and
dropping bunches of brown silk curls Her blue eyes were very straight honest
and searching She had the beautiful hands of the Coppards Her dress was always
subdued She wore dark blue silk with a peculiar silver chain of silver
scallops This and a heavy brooch of twisted gold was her only ornament She
was still perfectly intact deeply religious and full of beautiful candour
Walter Morel seemed melted away before her She was to the miner that thing
of mystery and fascination a lady When she spoke to him it was with a
southern pronounciation and a purity of English which thrilled him to hear She
watched him He danced well as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance
His grandfather was a French refugee who had married an English barmaid if it
had been a marriage Gertrude Coppard watched the young miner as he danced a
certain subtle exultation like glamour in his movement and his face the flower
of his body ruddy with tumbled black hair and laughing alike whatever partner
he bowed above She thought him rather wonderful never having met anyone like
him Her father was to her the type of all men And George Coppard proud in his
bearing handsome and rather bitter who preferred theology in reading and who
drew near in sympathy only to one man the Apostle Paul who was harsh in
government and in familiarity ironic who ignored all sensuous pleasure he
was very different from the miner Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of
dancing she had not the slightest inclination towards that accomplishment and
had never learned even a Roger de Coverley She was puritan like her father
highminded and really stern Therefore the dusky golden softness of this
mans sensuous flame of life that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a
candle not baffled and gripped into incandescence by thought and spirit as her
life was seemed to her something wonderful beyond her
He came and bowed above her A warmth radiated through her as if she had
drunk wine
»Now do come and have this one wi me« he said caressively »Its easy you
know Im pining to see you dance«
She had told him before she could not dance She glanced at his humility and
smiled Her smile was very beautiful It moved the man so that he forgot
everything
»No I wont dance« she said softly Her words came clean and ringing
Not knowing what he was doing he often did the right thing by instinct
he sat beside her inclining reverentially
»But you mustnt miss your dance« she reproved
»Nay I dont want to dance that its not one as I care about«
»Yet you invited me to it«
He laughed very heartily at this
»I never thought o that Thart not long in taking the curl out of me«
It was her turn to laugh quickly
»You dont look as if youd come much uncurled« she said
»Im like a pigs tail I curl because I canna help it« he laughed rather
boisterously
»And you are a miner« she exclaimed in surprise
»Yes I went down when I was ten«
She looked at him in wondering dismay
»When you were ten And wasnt it very hard« she asked
»You soon get used to it You live like th mice an you pop out at night
to see whats going on«
»It makes me feel blind« she frowned
»Like a moudiwarp« he laughed »Yi an theres some chaps as does go round
like moudiwarps« He thrust his face forward in the blind snoutlike way of a
mole seeming to sniff and peer for direction »They dun though« he protested
naïvely »Tha niver seed such a way they get in But tha mun let me tae thee
down some time an tha can see for thysen«
She looked at him startled This was a new tract of life suddenly opened
before her She realised the life of the miners hundreds of them toiling below
earth and coming up at evening He seemed to her noble He risked his life
daily and with gaiety She looked at him with a touch of appeal in her pure
humility
»Shouldnt ter like it« he asked tenderly »Appen not it ud dirty thee«
She had never been theed and thoud before
The next Christmas they were married and for three months she was perfectly
happy for six months she was very happy
He had signed the pledge and wore the blue ribbon of a teetotaller he was
nothing if not showy They lived she thought in his own house It was small
but convenient enough and quite nicely furnished with solid worthy stuff that
suited her honest soul The women her neighbours were rather foreign to her
and Morels mother and sisters were apt to sneer at her ladylike ways But she
could perfectly well live by herself so long as she had her husband close
Sometimes when she herself wearied of lovetalk she tried to open her
heart seriously to him She saw him listen deferentially but without
understanding This killed her efforts at a finer intimacy and she had flashes
of fear Sometimes he was restless of an evening it was not enough for him just
to be near her she realised She was glad when he set himself to little jobs
He was a remarkably handy man could make or mend anything So she would
say
»I do like that coalrake of your mothers it is small and natty«
»Does ter my wench Well I made that so I can make thee one«
»What why its a steel one«
»An what if it is Tha slt hae one very similar if not exactly same«
She did not mind the mess nor the hammering and noise He was busy and
happy
But in the seventh month when she was brushing his Sunday coat she felt
papers in the breast pocket and seized with a sudden curiosity took them out
to read He very rarely wore the frockcoat he was married in and it had not
occurred to her before to feel curious concerning the papers They were the
bills of the household furniture still unpaid
»Look here« she said at night after he was washed and had had his dinner
»I found these in the pocket of your weddingcoat Havent you settled the bills
yet«
»No I havent had a chance«
»But you told me all was paid I had better go into Nottingham on Saturday
and settle them I dont like sitting on another mans chairs and eating from an
unpaid table«
He did not answer
»I can have your bankbook cant I«
»Tha can hae it for what good itll be to thee«
»I thought « she began He had told her had a good bit of money left over
But she realised it was no use asking questions She sat rigid with bitterness
and indignation
The next day she went down to see his mother
»Didnt you buy the furniture for Walter« she asked
»Yes I did« tartly retorted the elder woman
»And how much did he give you to pay for it«
The elder woman was stung with fine indignation
»Eighty pound if youre so keen on knowin« she replied
»Eighty pounds But there are fortytwo pounds still owing«
»I cant help that«
»But where has it all gone«
»Youll find all the papers I think if you look beside ten pound as he
owed me an six pound as the wedding cost down here«
»Six pounds« echoed Gertrude Morel It seemed to her monstrous that after
her own father had paid so heavily for her wedding six pounds more should have
been squandered in eating and drinking at Walters parents house at his
expense
»And how much has he sunk in his houses« she asked
»His houses which houses«
Gertrude Morel went white to the lips He had told her the house he lived
in and the next one was his own
»I thought the house we live in « she began
»Theyre my houses those two« said the motherinlaw »And not clear
either Its as much as I can do to keep the mortgage interest paid«
Gertrude sat white and silent She was her father now
»Then we ought to be paying you rent« she said coldly
»Walter is paying me rent« replied the mother
»And what rent« asked Gertrude
»Six and six a week« retorted the mother
It was more than the house was worth Gertrude held her head erect looked
straight before her
»It is lucky to be you« said the elder woman bitingly »to have a husband
as takes all the worry of the money and leaves you a free hand«
The young wife was silent
She said very little to her husband but her manner had changed towards him
Something in her proud honourable soul had crystallised out hard as rock
When October came in she thought only of Christmas Two years ago at
Christmas she had met him Last Christmas she had married him This Christmas
she would bear him a child
»You dont dance yourself do you missis« asked her nearest neighbour in
October when there was great talk of opening a dancingclass over the Brick and
Tile Inn at Bestwood
»No I never had the least inclination to« Mrs Morel replied
»Fancy An how funny as you should ha married your Mester You know hes
quite a famous one for dancing«
»I didnt know he was famous« laughed Mrs Morel
»Yea he is though Why he ran that dancingclass in the Miners Arms
clubroom for over five year«
»Did he«
»Yes he did« The other woman was defiant »An it was thronged every
Tuesday and Thursday an Satday an there was carryinson accordin to
all accounts«
This kind of thing was gall and bitterness to Mrs Morel and she had a fair
share of it The women did not spare her at first for she was superior though
she could not help it
He began to be rather late in coming home
»Theyre working very late now arent they« she said to her washerwoman
»No later than they allers do I dont think But they stop to have their
pint at Ellens an they get talkin an there you are Dinner stone cold
an it serves em right«
»But Mr Morel does not take any drink«
The woman dropped the clothes looked at Mrs Morel then went on with her
work saying nothing
Gertrude Morel was very ill when the boy was born Morel was good to her as
good as gold But she felt very lonely miles away from her own people She felt
lonely with him now and his presence only made it more intense
The boy was small and frail at first but he came on quickly He was a
beautiful child with dark gold ringlets and darkblue eyes which changed
gradually to a clear grey His mother loved him passionately He came just when
her own bitterness of disillusion was hardest to bear when her faith in life
was shaken and her soul felt dreary and lonely She made much of the child and
the father was jealous
At last Mrs Morel despised her husband She turned to the child she turned
from the father He had begun to neglect her the novelty of his own home was
gone He had no grit she said bitterly to herself What he felt just at the
minute that was all to him He could not abide by anything There was nothing
at the back of all his show
There began a battle between the husband and wife a fearful bloody battle
that ended only with the death of one She fought to make him undertake his own
responsibilities to make him fulfil his obligations But he was too different
from her His nature was purely sensuous and she strove to make him moral
religious She tried to force him to face things He could not endure it it
drove him out of his mind
While the baby was still tiny the fathers temper had become so irritable
that it was not to be trusted The child had only to give a little trouble when
the man began to bully A little more and the hard hands of the collier hit the
baby Then Mrs Morel loathed her husband loathed him for days and he went out
and drank and she cared very little what he did Only on his return she
scathed him with her satire
The estrangement between them caused him knowingly or unknowingly grossly
to offend her where he would not have done
William was only one year old and his mother was proud of him he was so
pretty She was not well off now but her sisters kept the boy in clothes Then
with his little white hat curled with an ostrich feather and his white coat he
was a joy to her the twining wisps of hair clustering round his head Mrs
Morel lay listening one Sunday morning to the chatter of the father and child
downstairs Then she dozed off When she came downstairs a great fire glowed in
the grate the room was hot the breakfast was roughly laid and seated in his
armchair against the chimneypiece sat Morel rather timid and standing
between his legs the child cropped like a sheep with such an odd round poll
looking wondering at her and on a newspaper spread out upon the hearthrug a
myriad of crescentshaped curls like the petals of a marigold scattered in the
reddening firelight
Mrs Morel stood still It was her first baby She went very white and was
unable to speak
»What dost think o im« Morel laughed uneasily
She gripped her two fists lifted them and came forward Morel shrank back
»I could kill you I could« she said She choked with rage her two fists
uplifted
»Yer non want ter make a wench on im« Morel said in a frightened tone
bending his head to shield his eyes from hers His attempt at laughter had
vanished
The mother looked down at the jagged closeclipped head of her child She
put her hands on his hair and stroked and fondled his head
»Oh my boy« she faltered Her lip trembled her face broke and
snatching up the child she buried her face in his shoulder and cried painfully
She was one of those women who cannot cry whom it hurts as it hurts a man It
was like ripping something out of her her sobbing
Morel sat with his elbows on his knees his hands gripped together till the
knuckles were white He gazed in the fire feeling almost stunned as if he
could not breathe
Presently she came to an end soothed the child and cleared away the
breakfasttable She left the newspaper littered with curls spread upon the
hearthrug At last her husband gathered it up and put it at the back of the
fire She went about her work with closed mouth and very quiet Morel was
subdued He crept about wretchedly and his meals were a misery that day She
spoke to him civilly and never alluded to what he had done But he felt
something final had happened
Afterwards she said she had been silly that the boys hair would have had
to be cut sooner or later In the end she even brought herself to say to her
husband it was just as well he had played barber when he did But she knew and
Morel knew that that act had caused something momentous to take place in her
soul She remembered the scene all her life as one in which she had suffered
the most intensely
This act of masculine clumsiness was the spear through the side of her love
for Morel Before while she had striven against him bitterly she had fretted
after him as if he had gone astray from her Now she ceased to fret for his
love he was an outsider to her This made life much more bearable
Nevertheless she still continued to strive with him She still had her high
moral sense inherited from generations of Puritans It was now a religious
instinct and she was almost a fanatic with him because she loved him or had
loved him If he sinned she tortured him If he drank and lied was often a
poltroon sometimes a knave she wielded the lash unmercifully
The pity was she was too much his opposite She could not be content with
the little he might be she would have him the much that he ought to be So in
seeking to make him nobler than he could be she destroyed him She injured and
hurt and scarred herself but she lost none of her worth She also had the
children
He drank rather heavily though not more than many miners and always beer
so that whilst his health was affected it was never injured The weekend was
his chief carouse He sat in the Miners Arms until turningout time every
Friday every Saturday and every Sunday evening On Monday and Tuesday he had
to get up and reluctantly leave towards ten oclock Sometimes he stayed at home
on Wednesday and Thursday evenings or was only out for an hour He practically
never had to miss work owing to his drinking
But although he was very steady at work his wages fell off He was
blabmouthed a tonguewagger Authority was hateful to him therefore he could
only abuse the pitmanagers He would say in the Palmerston
»Th gaffer come down to our stall this morning an e says You know
Walter this erell not do What about these props An I says to him Why
what art talkin about What dst mean about th props Itll never do this
ere e says Youll be havin th roof in one o these days An I says
Thad better stan on a bit o clunch then an hold it up wi thy ead So e
wor that mad e cossed an e swore an tother chaps they did laugh« Morel
was a good mimic He imitated the managers fat squeaky voice with its attempt
at good English
»I shant have it Walter Who knows more about it me or you So I says
Ive niver fun out how much tha knows Alfred Itll appen carry thee ter bed
an back«
So Morel would go on to the amusement of his boon companions And some of
this would be true The pitmanager was not an educated man He had been a boy
along with Morel so that while the two disliked each other they more or less
took each other for granted But Alfred Charlesworth did not forgive the butty
these publichouse sayings Consequently although Morel was a good miner
sometimes earning as much as five pounds a week when he married he came
gradually to have worse and worse stalls where the coal was thin and hard to
get and unprofitable
Also in summer the pits are slack Often on bright sunny mornings the
men are seen trooping home again at ten eleven or twelve oclock No empty
trucks stand at the pitmouth The women on the hillside look across as they
shake the hearthrug against the fence and count the wagons the engine is taking
along the line up the valley And the children as they come from school at
dinnertime looking down the fields and seeing the wheels on the headstocks
standing say
»Mintons knocked off My dadll be at home«
And there is a sort of shadow over all women and children and men because
money will be short at the end of the week
Morel was supposed to give his wife thirty shillings a week to provide
everything rent food clothes clubs insurance doctors Occasionally if he
were flush he gave her thirtyfive But these occasions by no means balanced
those when he gave her twentyfive In winter with a decent stall the miner
might earn fifty or fiftyfive shillings a week Then he was happy On Friday
night Saturday and Sunday he spent royally getting rid of his sovereign or
thereabouts And out of so much he scarcely spared the children an extra penny
or bought them a pound of apples It all went in drink In the bad times
matters were more worrying but he was not so often drunk so that Mrs Morel
used to say
»Im not sure I wouldnt rather be short for when hes flush there isnt a
minute of peace«
If he earned forty shillings he kept ten from thirtyfive he kept five
from thirtytwo he kept four from twentyeight he kept three from twentyfour
he kept two from twenty he kept oneandsix from eighteen he kept a shilling
from sixteen he kept sixpence He never saved a penny and he gave his wife no
opportunity of saving instead she had occasionally to pay his debts not
publichouse debts for those never were passed on to the women but debts when
he had bought a canary or a fancy walkingstick
At the wakes time Morel was working badly and Mrs Morel was trying to save
against her confinement So it galled her bitterly to think he should be out
taking his pleasure and spending money whilst she remained at home harassed
There were two days holiday On the Tuesday morning Morel rose early He was in
good spirits Quite early before six oclock she heard him whistling away to
himself downstairs He had a pleasant way of whistling lively and musical He
nearly always whistled hymns He had been a choirboy with a beautiful voice
and had taken solos in Southwell cathedral His morning whistling alone betrayed
it
His wife lay listening to him tinkering away in the garden his whistling
ringing out as he sawed and hammered away It always gave her a sense of warmth
and peace to hear him thus as she lay in bed the children not yet awake in the
bright early morning happy in his mans fashion
At nine oclock while the children with bare legs and feet were sitting
playing on the sofa and the mother was washing up he came in from his
carpentry his sleeves rolled up his waistcoat hanging open He was still a
goodlooking man with black wavy hair and a large black moustache His face
was perhaps too much inflamed and there was about him a look almost of
peevishness But now he was jolly He went straight to the sink where his wife
was washing up
»What are thee there« he said boisterously »Sluthe off an let me wesh
mysen«
»You may wait till Ive finished« said his wife
»Oh mun I An what if I shonna«
This goodhumoured threat amused Mrs Morel
»Then you can go and wash yourself in the softwater tub«
»Ha I can an a tha mucky little ussy«
With which he stood watching her a moment then went away to wait for her
When he chose he could still make himself again a real gallant Usually he
preferred to go out with a scarf round his neck Now however he made a toilet
There seemed so much gusto in the way he puffed and swilled as he washed
himself so much alacrity with which he hurried to the mirror in the kitchen
and bending because it was too low for him scrupulously parted his wet black
hair that it irritated Mrs Morel He put on a turndown collar a black bow
and wore his Sunday tailcoat As such he looked spruce and what his clothes
would not do his instinct for making the most of his good looks would
At halfpast nine Jerry Purdy came to call for his pal Jerry was Morels
bosom friend and Mrs Morel disliked him He was a tall thin man with a
rather foxy face the kind of face that seems to lack eyelashes He walked with
a stiff brittle dignity as if his head were on a wooden spring His nature was
cold and shrewd Generous where he intended to be generous he seemed to be very
fond of Morel and more or less to take charge of him
Mrs Morel hated him She had known his wife who had died of consumption
and who had at the end conceived such a violent dislike of her husband that
if he came into her room it caused her hæmorrhage None of which Jerry had
seemed to mind And now his eldest daughter a girl of fifteen kept a poor
house for him and looked after the two younger children
»A mean wizzenhearted stick« Mrs Morel said of him
»Ive never known Jerry mean in my life« protested Morel »A openerhanded
and more freer chap you couldnt find anywhere accordin to my knowledge«
»Openhanded to you« retorted Mrs Morel »But his fist is shut tight
enough to his children poor things«
»Poor things And what for are they poor things I should like to know«
But Mrs Morel would not be appeased on Jerrys score
The subject of argument was seen craning his thin neck over the scullery
curtain He caught Mrs Morels eye
»Mornin missis Mester in«
»Yes he is«
Jerry entered unasked and stood by the kitchen doorway He was not invited
to sit down but stood there coolly asserting the rights of men and husbands
»A nice day« he said to Mrs Morel
»Yes«
»Grand out this morning grand for a walk«
»Do you mean youre going for a walk« she asked
»Yes We mean walkin to Nottingham« he replied
»Hm«
The two men greeted each other both glad Jerry however full of
assurance Morel rather subdued afraid to seem too jubilant in presence of his
wife But he laced his boots quickly with spirit They were going for a
tenmile walk across the fields to Nottingham Climbing the hillside from the
Bottoms they mounted gaily into the morning At the Moon and Stars they had
their first drink then on to the Old Spot Then a long five miles of drought to
carry them into Bulwell to a glorious pint of bitter But they stayed in a field
with some haymakers whose gallon bottle was full so that when they came in
sight of the city Morel was sleepy The town spread upwards before them
smoking vaguely in the midday glare fridging the crest away to the south with
spires and factory bulks and chimneys In the last field Morel lay down under an
oak tree and slept soundly for over an hour When he rose to go forward he felt
queer
The two had dinner in the Meadows with Jerrys sister then repaired to the
Punch Bowl where they mixed in the excitement of pigeonracing Morel never in
his life played cards considering them as having some occult malevolent power
the devils pictures he called them But he was a master of skittles and of
dominoes He took a challenge from a Newark man on skittles All the men in the
old long bar took sides betting either one way or the other Morel took off
his coat Jerry held the hat containing the money The men at the tables
watched Some stood with their mugs in their hands Morel felt his big wooden
ball carefully then launched it He played havoc among the ninepins and won
half a crown which restored him to solvency
By seven oclock the two were in good condition They caught the 730 train
home
In the afternoon the Bottoms was intolerable Every inhabitant remaining was
out of doors The women in twos and threes bareheaded and in white aprons
gossiped in the alley between the blocks Men having a rest between drinks sat
on their heels and talked The place smelled stale the slate roofs glistered in
the arid heat
Mrs Morel took the little girl down to the brook in the meadows which were
not more than two hundred yards away The water ran quickly over stones and
broken pots Mother and child leaned on the rail of the old sheepbridge
watching Up at the dippinghole at the other end of the meadow Mrs Morel
could see the naked forms of boys flashing round the deep yellow water or an
occasional bright figure dart glittering over the blackish stagnant meadow She
knew William was at the dippinghole and it was the dread of her life lest he
should get drowned Annie played under the tall old hedge picking up alder
cones that she called currants The child required much attention and the
flies were teasing
The children were put to bed at seven oclock Then she worked awhile
When Walter Morel and Jerry arrived at Bestwood they felt a load off their
minds a railway journey no longer impended so they could put the finishing
touches to a glorious day They entered the Nelson with the satisfaction of
returned travellers
The next day was a workday and the thought of it put a damper on the mens
spirits Most of them moreover had spent their money Some were already
rolling dismally home to sleep in preparation for the morrow Mrs Morel
listening to their mournful singing went indoors Nine oclock passed and ten
and still the pair had not returned On a doorstep somewhere a man was singing
loudly in a drawl »Lead kindly Light« Mrs Morel was always indignant with
the drunken men that they must sing that hymn when they got maudlin
»As if Genevieve werent good enough« she said
The kitchen was full of the scent of boiled herbs and hops On the hob a
large black saucepan steamed slowly Mrs Morel took a panchion a great bowl of
thick red earth streamed a heap of white sugar into the bottom and then
straining herself to the weight was pouring in the liquor
Just then Morel came in He had been very jolly in the Nelson but coming
home had grown irritable He had not quite got over the feeling of irritability
and pain after having slept on the ground when he was so hot and a bad
conscience afflicted him as he neared the house He did not know he was angry
But when the garden gate resisted his attempts to open it he kicked it and
broke the latch He entered just as Mrs Morel was pouring the infusion of herbs
out of the saucepan Swaying slightly he lurched against the table The boiling
liquor pitched Mrs Morel started back
»Good gracious« she cried »coming home in his drunkenness«
»Comin home in his what« he snarled his hat over his eye
Suddenly her blood rose in a jet
»Say youre not drunk« she flashed
She had put down her saucepan and was stirring the sugar into the beer He
dropped his two hands heavily on the table and thrust his face forwards at her
»Say youre not drunk« he repeated »Why nobody but a nasty little bitch
like you ud ave such a thought«
He thrust his face forward at her
»Theres money to bezzle with if theres money for nothing else«
»Ive not spent a twoshillin bit this day« he said
»You dont get as drunk as a lord on nothing« she replied »And« she
cried flashing into sudden fury »if youve been sponging on your beloved
Jerry why let him look after his children for they need it«
»Its a lie its a lie Shut your face woman«
They were now at battlepitch Each forgot everything save the hatred of the
other and the battle between them She was fiery and furious as he They went on
till he called her a liar
»No« she cried starting up scarce able to breathe »Dont call me that
you the most despicable liar that ever walked in shoeleather« She forced the
last words out of suffocated lungs
»Youre a liar« he yelled banging the table with his fist »Youre a liar
youre a liar«
She stiffened herself with clenched fists
»The house is filthy with you« she cried
»Then get out on it its mine Get out on it« he shouted »Its me as
brings th money whoam not thee Its my house not thine Then ger out ont
ger out ont«
»And I would« she cried suddenly shaken into tears of impotence »Ah
wouldnt I wouldnt I have gone long ago but for those children Ay havent I
repented not going years ago when Id only the one« suddenly drying into
rage »Do you think its for you I stop do you think Id stop one minute for
you«
»Go then« he shouted beside himself »Go«
»No« She faced round »No« she cried loudly »you shant have it all your
own way you shant do all you like Ive got those children to see to My
word« she laughed »I should look well to leave them to you«
»Go« he cried thickly lifting his fist He was afraid of her »Go«
»I should be only too glad I should laugh laugh my lord if I could get
away from you« she replied
He came up to her his red face with its bloodshot eyes thrust forward
and gripped her arms She cried in fear of him struggled to be free Coming
slightly to himself panting he pushed her roughly to the outer door and
thrust her forth slotting the bolt behind her with a bang Then he went back
into the kitchen dropped into his armchair his head bursting full of blood
sinking between his knees Thus he dipped gradually into a stupor from
exhaustion and intoxication
The moon was high and magnificent in the August night Mrs Morel seared
with passion shivered to find herself out there in a great white light that
fell cold on her and gave a shock to her inflamed soul She stood for a few
moments helplessly staring at the glistening great rhubarb leaves near the door
Then she got the air into her breast She walked down the garden path trembling
in every limb while the child boiled within her For a while she could not
control her consciousness mechanically she went over the last scene then over
it again certain phrases certain moments coming each time like a brand redhot
down on her soul and each time she enacted again the past hour each time the
brand came down at the same points till the mark was burnt in and the pain
burnt out and at last she came to herself She must have been half an hour in
this delirious condition Then the presence of the night came again to her She
glanced round in fear She had wandered to the side garden where she was
walking up and down the path beside the currant bushes under the long wall The
garden was a narrow strip bounded from the road that cut transversely between
the blocks by a thick thorn hedge
She hurried out of the side garden to the front where she could stand as if
in an immense gulf of white light the moon streaming high in face of her the
moonlight standing up from the hills in front and filling the valley where the
Bottoms crouched almost blindingly There panting and half weeping in reaction
from the stress she murmured to herself over and over again »The nuisance the
nuisance«
She became aware of something about her With an effort she roused herself
to see what it was that penetrated her consciousness. The tall white lilies were
reeling in the moonlight and the air was charged with their perfume as with a
presence Mrs Morel gasped slightly in fear She touched the big pallid
flowers on their petals then shivered They seemed to be stretching in the
moonlight She put her hand into one white bin the gold scarcely showed on her
fingers by moonlight She bent down to look at the binful of yellow pollen but
it only appeared dusky Then she drank a deep draught of the scent It almost
made her dizzy
Mrs Morel leaned on the garden gate looking out and she lost herself
awhile She did not know what she thought Except for a slight feeling of
sickness and her consciousness in the child herself melted out like scent into
the shiny pale air After a time the child too melted with her in the
mixingpot of moonlight and she rested with the hills and lilies and houses
all swum together in a kind of swoon
When she came to herself she was tired for sleep Languidly she looked about
her the clumps of white phlox seemed like bushes spread with linen a moth
ricochetted over them and right across the garden Following it with her eye
roused her A few whiffs of the raw strong scent of phlox invigorated her She
passed along the path hesitating at the white rosebush It smelled sweet and
simple She touched the white ruffles of the roses Their fresh scent and cool
soft leaves reminded her of the morningtime and sunshine She was very fond of
them But she was tired and wanted to sleep In the mysterious outofdoors she
felt forlorn
There was no noise anywhere Evidently the children had not been wakened or
had gone to sleep again A train three miles away roared across the valley
The night was very large and very strange stretching its hoary distances
infinitely And out of the silvergrey fog of darkness came sounds vague and
hoarse a corncrake not far off sound of a train like a sigh and distant
shouts of men
Her quietened heart beginning to beat quickly again she hurried down the
side garden to the back of the house Softly she lifted the latch the door was
still bolted and hard against her She rapped gently waited then rapped
again She must not rouse the children nor the neighbours He must be asleep
and he would not wake easily Her heart began to burn to be indoors She clung
to the doorhandle Now it was cold she would take a chill and in her present
condition
Putting her apron over her head and her arms she hurried again to the side
garden to the window of the kitchen Leaning on the sill she could just see
under the blind her husbands arms spread out on the table and his black head
on the board He was sleeping with his face lying on the table Something in his
attitude made her feel tired of things The lamp was burning smokily she could
tell by the copper colour of the light She tapped at the window more and more
noisily Almost it seemed as if the glass would break Still he did not wake up
After vain efforts she began to shiver partly from contact with the stone
and from exhaustion Fearful always for the unborn child she wondered what she
could do for warmth She went down to the coalhouse where there was an old
hearthrug she had carried out for the ragman the day before This she wrapped
over her shoulders It was warm if grimy Then she walked up and down the
garden path peeping every now and then under the blind knocking and telling
herself that in the end the very strain of his position must wake him
At last after about an hour she rapped long and low at the window
Gradually the sound penetrated to him When in despair she had ceased to tap
she saw him stir then lift his face blindly The labouring of his heart hurt
him into consciousness She rapped imperatively at the window He started awake
Instantly she saw his fists set and his eyes glare He had not a grain of
physical fear If it had been twenty burglars he would have gone blindly for
them He glared round bewildered but prepared to fight
»Open the door Walter« she said coldly
His hands relaxed It dawned on him what he had done His head dropped
sullen and dogged She saw him hurry to the door heard the bolt chock He tried
the latch It opened and there stood the silvergrey night fearful to him
after the tawny light of the lamp He hurried back
When Mrs Morel entered she saw him almost running through the door to the
stairs He had ripped his collar off his neck in his haste to be gone ere she
came in and there it lay with bursten buttonholes It made her angry
She warmed and soothed herself In her weariness forgetting everything she
moved about at the little tasks that remained to be done set his breakfast
rinsed his pitbottle put his pitclothes on the hearth to warm set his
pitboots beside them put him out a clean scarf and snapbag and two apples
raked the fire and went to bed He was already dead asleep His narrow black
eyebrows were drawn up in a sort of peevish misery into his forehead while his
cheeks downstrokes and his sulky mouth seemed to be saying »I dont care
who you are nor what you are I shall have my own way«
Mrs Morel knew him too well to look at him As she unfastened her brooch at
the mirror she smiled faintly to see her face all smeared with the yellow dust
of lilies She brushed it off and at last lay down For some time her mind
continued snapping and jetting sparks but she was asleep before her husband
awoke from the first sleep of his drunkenness
Chapter II
The Birth of Paul and Another Battle
After such a scene as the last Walter Morel was for some days abashed and
ashamed but he soon regained his old bullying indifference Yet there was a
slight shrinking a diminishing in his assurance Physically even he shrank
and his fine full presence waned He never grew in the least stout so that as
he sank from his erect assertive bearing his physique seemed to contract along
with his pride and moral strength
But now he realised how hard it was for his wife to drag about at her work
and his sympathy quickened by penitence hastened forward with his help He
came straight home from the pit and stayed in at evening till Friday and then
he could not remain at home But he was back again by ten oclock almost quite
sober
He always made his own breakfast Being a man who rose early and had plenty
of time he did not as some miners do drag his wife out of bed at six oclock
At five sometimes earlier he woke got straight out of bed and went
downstairs When she could not sleep his wife lay waiting for this time as for
a period of peace The only real rest seemed to be when he was out of the house
He went downstairs in his shirt and then struggled into his pittrousers
which were left on the hearth to warm all night There was always a fire
because Mrs Morel raked And the first sound in the house was the bang bang of
the poker against the raker as Morel smashed the remainder of the coal to make
the kettle which was filled and left on the hob finally boil His cup and
knife and fork all he wanted except just the food was laid ready on the table
on a newspaper Then he got his breakfast made the tea packed the bottom of
the doors with rugs to shut out the draught piled a big fire and sat down to
an hour of joy He toasted his bacon on a fork and caught the drops of fat on
his bread then he put the rasher on his thick slice of bread and cut off
chunks with a claspknife poured his tea into his saucer and was happy With
his family about meals were never so pleasant He loathed a fork it is a
modern introduction which has still scarcely reached common people What Morel
preferred was a claspknife Then in solitude he ate and drank often sitting
in cold weather on a little stool with his back to the warm chimneypiece his
food on the fender his cup on the hearth And then he read the last nights
newspaper what of it he could spelling it over laboriously He preferred to
keep the blinds down and the candle lit even when it was daylight it was the
habit of the mine
At a quarter to six he rose cut two thick slices of bread and butter and
put them in the white calico snapbag He filled his tin bottle with tea Cold
tea without milk or sugar was the drink he preferred for the pit Then he pulled
off his shirt and put on his pitsinglet a vest of thick flannel cut low round
the neck and with short sleeves like a chemise
Then he went upstairs to his wife with a cup of tea because she was ill and
because it occurred to him
»Ive brought thee a cup o tea lass« he said
»Well you neednt for you know I dont like it« she replied
»Drink it up itll pop thee off to sleep again«
She accepted the tea It pleased him to see her take it and sip it
»Ill back my life theres no sugar in« she said
»Yi theres one big un« he replied injured
»Its a wonder« she said sipping again
She had a winsome face when her hair was loose He loved her to grumble at
him in this manner He looked at her again and went without any sort of
leavetaking He never took more than two slices of bread and butter to eat in
the pit so an apple or an orange was a treat to him He always liked it when
she put one out for him He tied a scarf round his neck put on his great heavy
boots his coat with the big pocket that carried his snapbag and his bottle
of tea and went forth into the fresh morning air closing without locking the
door behind him He loved the early morning and the walk across the fields So
he appeared at the pittop often with a stalk from the hedge between his teeth
which he chewed all day to keep his mouth moist down the mine feeling quite as
happy as when he was in the field
Later when the time for the baby grew nearer he would bustle round in his
slovenly fashion poking out the ashes rubbing the fireplace sweeping the
house before he went to work Then feeling very selfrighteous he went
upstairs
»Now Im cleaned up for thee thas no casions ter stir a peg all day but
sit and read thy books«
Which made her laugh in spite of her indignation
»And the dinner cooks itself« she answered
»Eh I know nowt about th dinner«
»Youd know if there werent any«
»Ay appen so« he answered departing
When she got downstairs she would find the house tidy but dirty She could
not rest until she had thoroughly cleaned so she went down to the ashpit with
her dustpan Mrs Kirk spying her would contrive to have to go to her own
coalplace at that minute Then across the wooden fence she would call
»So you keep wagging on then«
»Ay« answered Mrs Morel deprecatingly »Theres nothing else for it«
»Have you seen Hose« called a very small woman from across the road It was
Mrs Anthony a blackhaired strange little body who always wore a brown
velvet dress tight fitting
»I havent« said Mrs Morel
»Eh I wish hed come Ive got a copperful of clothes an Im sure I
heered his bell«
»Hark Hes at the end«
The two women looked down the alley At the end of the Bottoms a man stood
in a sort of oldfashioned trap bending over bundles of creamcoloured stuff
while a cluster of women held up their arms to him some with bundles Mrs
Anthony herself had a heap of creamy undyed stockings hanging over her arm
»Ive done ten dozen this week« she said proudly to Mrs Morel
»Ttt« went the other »I dont know how you can find time«
»Eh« said Mrs Anthony »You can find time if you make time«
»I dont know how you do it« said Mrs Morel »And how much shall you get
for those many«
»Tuppencehapenny a dozen« replied the other
»Well« said Mrs Morel »Id starve before Id sit down and seam
twentyfour stockings for twopence hapenny«
»Oh I dont know« said Mrs Anthony »You can rip along with em«
Hose was coming along ringing his bell Women were waiting at the yardends
with their seamed stockings hanging over their arms The man a common fellow
made jokes with them tried to swindle them and bullied them Mrs Morel went
up her yard disdainfully
It was an understood thing that if one woman wanted her neighbour she
should put the poker in the fire and bang at the back of the fireplace which
as the fires were back to back would make a great noise in the adjoining house
One morning Mrs Kirk mixing a pudding nearly started out of her skin as she
heard the thud thud in her grate With her hands all floury she rushed to the
fence
»Did you knock Mrs Morel«
»If you wouldnt mind Mrs Kirk«
Mrs Kirk climbed on to her copper got over the wall on to Mrs Morels
copper and ran in to her neighbour
»Eh dear how are you feeling« she cried in concern
»You might fetch Mrs Bower« said Mrs Morel
Mrs Kirk went into the yard lifted up her strong shrill voice and
called
»Aggie Aggie«
The sound was heard from one end of the Bottoms to the other At last Aggie
came running up and was sent for Mrs Bower whilst Mrs Kirk left her pudding
and stayed with her neighbour
Mrs Morel went to bed Mrs Kirk had Annie and William for dinner Mrs
Bower fat and waddling bossed the house
»Hash some cold meat up for the masters dinner and make him an
applecharlotte pudding« said Mrs Morel
»He may go without pudding this day« said Mrs Bower
Morel was not as a rule one of the first to appear at the bottom of the pit
ready to come up Some men were there before four oclock when the whistle blew
looseall but Morel whose stall a poor one was at this time about a mile and
a half away from the bottom worked usually till the first mate stopped then he
finished also This day however the miner was sick of the work At two oclock
he looked at his watch by the light of the green candle he was in a safe
working and again at halfpast two He was hewing at a piece of rock that was
in the way for the next days work As he sat on his heels or kneeled giving
hard blows with his pick »Uszza uszza« he went
»Shall ter finish Sorry«1 cried Barker his fellow butty
»Finish Niver while the world stands« growled Morel
And he went on striking He was tired
»Its a heartbreaking job« said Barker
But Morel was too exasperated at the end of his tether to answer Still he
struck and hacked with all his might
»Tha might as well leave it Walter« said Barker »Itll do tomorrow
without thee hackin thy guts out«
»Ill lay no b finger on this tomorrow Isrel« cried Morel
»Oh well if tha wunna somebdy else ll hae to« said Israel
Then Morel continued to strike
»Heyup there loosea« cried the men leaving the next stall
Morel continued to strike
»Thall happen catch me up« said Barker departing
When he had gone Morel left alone felt savage He had not finished his
job He had overworked himself into a frenzy Rising wet with sweat he threw
his tool down pulled on his coat blew out his candle took his lamp and went
Down the main road the lights of the other men went swinging There was a hollow
sound of many voices It was a long heavy tramp underground
He sat at the bottom of the pit where the great drops of water fell plash
Many colliers were waiting their turns to go up talking noisily Morel gave his
answers short and disagreeable
»Its rainin Sorry« said old Giles who had had the news from the top
Morel found one comfort He had his old umbrella which he loved in the
lamp cabin At last he took his stand on the chair and was at the top in a
moment Then he handed in his lamp and got his umbrella which he had bought at
an auction for oneandsix He stood on the edge of the pitbank for a moment
looking out over the fields grey rain was falling The trucks stood full of
wet bright coal Water ran down the sides of the waggons over the white CW
and Co Colliers walking indifferent to the rain were streaming down the line
and up the field a grey dismal host Morel put up his umbrella and took
pleasure from the peppering of the drops thereon
All along the road to Bestwood the miners tramped wet and grey and dirty
but their red mouths talking with animation Morel also walked with a gang but
he said nothing He frowned peevishly as he went Many men passed into the
Prince of Wales or into Ellens Morel feeling sufficiently disagreeable to
resist temptation trudged along under the dripping trees that overhung the park
wall and down the mud of Greenhill Lane
Mrs Morel lay in bed listening to the rain and the feet of the colliers
from Minton their voices and the bang bang of the gates as they went through
the stile up the field
»Theres some herb beer behind the pantry door« she said »Th master ll
want a drink if he doesnt stop«
But he was late so she concluded he had called for a drink since it was
raining What did he care about the child or her
She was very ill when her children were born
»What is it« she asked feeling sick to death
»A boy«
And she took consolation in that The thought of being the mother of men was
warming to her heart She looked at the child It had blue eyes and a lot of
fair hair and was bonny Her love came up hot in spite of everything She had
it in bed with her
Morel thinking nothing dragged his way up the garden path wearily and
angrily He closed his umbrella and stood it in the sink then he sluthered his
heavy boots into the kitchen Mrs Bower appeared in the inner doorway
»Well« she said »shes about as bad as she can be Its a boy childt«
The miner grunted put his empty snapbag and his tin bottle on the dresser
went back into the scullery and hung up his coat then came and dropped into his
chair
»Han yer got a drink« he asked
The woman went into the pantry There was heard the pop of a cork She set
the mug with a little disgusted rap on the table before Morel He drank
gasped wiped his big moustache on the end of his scarf drank gasped and lay
back in his chair The woman would not speak to him again She set his dinner
before him and went upstairs
»Was that the master« asked Mrs Morel
»Ive gave him his dinner« replied Mrs Bower
After he had sat with his arms on the table he resented the fact that Mrs
Bower put no cloth on for him and gave him a little plate instead of a
fullsized dinnerplate he began to eat The fact that his wife was ill that
he had another boy was nothing to him at that moment He was too tired he
wanted his dinner he wanted to sit with his arms lying on the board he did not
like having Mrs Bower about The fire was too small to please him
After he had finished his meal he sat for twenty minutes then he stoked up
a big fire Then in his stockinged feet he went reluctantly upstairs It was a
struggle to face his wife at this moment and he was tired His face was black
and smeared with sweat His singlet had dried again soaking the dirt in He had
a dirty woollen scarf round his throat So he stood at the foot of the bed
»Well how are ter then« he asked
»I sll be all right« she answered
»Hm«
He stood at a loss what to say next He was tired and this bother was
rather a nuisance to him and he didnt quite know where he was
»A lad tha says« he stammered
She turned down the sheet and showed the child
»Bless him« he murmured Which made her laugh because he blessed by rote
pretending paternal emotion which he did not feel just then
»Go now« she said
»I will my lass« he answered turning away
Dismissed he wanted to kiss her but he dared not She half wanted him to
kiss her but could not bring herself to give any sign She only breathed freely
when he was gone out of the room again leaving behind him a faint smell of
pitdirt
Mrs Morel had a visit every day from the Congregational clergyman Mr
Heaton was young and very poor His wife had died at the birth of his first
baby so he remained alone in the manse He was a Bachelor of Arts of Cambridge
very shy and no preacher Mrs Morel was fond of him and he depended on her
For hours he talked to her when she was well He became the godparent of the
child
Occasionally the minister stayed to tea with Mrs Morel Then she laid the
cloth early got out her best cups with a little green rim and hoped Morel
would not come too soon indeed if he stayed for a pint she would not mind
this day She had always two dinners to cook because she believed children
should have their chief meal at midday whereas Morel needed his at five
oclock So Mr Heaton would hold the baby whilst Mrs Morel beat up a
batterpudding or peeled the potatoes and he watching her all the time would
discuss his next sermon His ideas were quaint and fantastic She brought him
judiciously to earth It was a discussion of the wedding at Cana
»When He changed the water into wine at Cana« he said »that is a symbol
that the ordinary life even the blood of the married husband and wife which
had before been uninspired like water became filled with the Spirit and was
as wine because when love enters the whole spiritual constitution of a man
changes is filled with the Holy Ghost and almost his form is altered«
Mrs Morel thought to herself
»Yes poor fellow his young wife is dead that is why he makes his love
into the Holy Ghost«
They were halfway down their first cup of tea when they heard the sluther of
pitboots
»Good gracious« exclaimed Mrs Morel in spite of herself
The minister looked rather scared Morel entered He was feeling rather
savage He nodded a How dyer do to the clergyman who rose to shake hands with
him
»Nay« said Morel showing his hand »look thee at it Tha niver wants ter
shake hands wi a hand like that does ter Theres too much pickhaft and
shoveldirt on it«
The minister flushed with confusion and sat down again Mrs Morel rose
carried out the steaming saucepan Morel took off his coat dragged his armchair
to table and sat down heavily
»Are you tired« asked the clergyman
»Tired I ham that« replied Morel »You dont know what it is to be tired
as Im tired«
»No« replied the clergyman
»Why look yer ere« said the miner showing the shoulders of his singlet
»Its a bit dry now but its wet as a clout with sweat even yet Feel it«
»Goodness« cried Mrs Morel »Mr Heaton doesnt want to feel your nasty
singlet«
The clergyman put out his hand gingerly
»No perhaps he doesnt« said Morel »but its all come out of me whether
or not An ivry day alike my singlets wringin wet Avent you got a drink
Missis for a man when he comes home barkled up from the pit«
»You know you drank all the beer« said Mrs Morel pouring out his tea
»An was there no more to be got« Turning to the clergyman »A man gets
that caked up wi th dust you know that clogged up down a coalmine he
needs a drink when he comes home«
»I am sure he does« said the clergyman
»But its ten to one if theres owt for him«
»Theres water and theres tea« said Mrs Morel
»Water Its not water asll clear his throat«
He poured out a saucerful of tea blew it and sucked it up through his
great black moustache sighing afterwards Then he poured out another saucerful
and stood his cup on the table
»My cloth« said Mrs Morel putting it on a plate
»A man as comes home as I do s too tired to care about cloths« said Morel
»Pity« exclaimed his wife sarcastically
The room was full of the smell of meat and vegetables and pitclothes
He leaned over to the minister his great moustache thrust forward his
mouth very red in his black face
»Mr Heaton« he said »a man as has been down the black hole all day
dingin away at a coalface yi a sight harder than that wall «
»Neednt make a moan of it« put in Mrs Morel
She hated her husband because whenever he had an audience he whined and
played for sympathy William sitting nursing the baby hated him with a boys
hatred for false sentiment and for the stupid treatment of his mother Annie
had never liked him she merely avoided him
When the minister had gone Mrs Morel looked at her cloth
»A fine mess« she said
»Dost think Im goin to sit wi my arms danglin cos thas got a parson
for tea wi thee« he bawled
They were both angry but she said nothing The baby began to cry and Mrs
Morel picking up a saucepan from the hearth accidentally knocked Annie on the
head whereupon the girl began to whine and Morel to shout at her In the midst
of this pandemonium William looked up at the big glazed text over the
mantelpiece and read distinctly
»God Bless Our Home«
Whereupon Mrs Morel trying to soothe the baby jumped up rushed at him
boxed his ears saying
»What are you putting in for«
And then she sat down and laughed till tears ran over her cheeks while
William kicked the stool he had been sitting on and Morel growled
»I canna see what there is so much to laugh at«
One evening directly after the parsons visit feeling unable to bear
herself after another display from her husband she took Annie and the baby and
went out Morel had kicked William and the mother would never forgive him
She went over the sheepbridge and across a corner of the meadow to the
cricketground The meadows seemed one space of ripe evening light whispering
with the distant millrace She sat on a seat under the alders in the
cricketground and fronted the evening Before her level and solid spread the
big green cricketfield like the bed of a sea of light Children played in the
bluish shadow of the pavilion Many rooks high up came cawing home across the
softlywoven sky They stooped in a long curve down into the golden glow
concentrating cawing wheeling like black flakes on a slow vortex over a tree
clump that made a dark boss among the pasture
A few gentlemen were practising and Mrs Morel could hear the chock of the
ball and the voices of men suddenly roused could see the white forms of men
shifting silently over the green upon which already the under shadows were
smouldering Away at the grange one side of the haystacks was lit up the other
sides bluegrey A waggon of sheaves rocked small across the melting yellow
light
The sun was going down Every open evening the hills of Derbyshire were
blazed over with red sunset Mrs Morel watched the sun sink from the glistening
sky leaving a soft flowerblue overhead while the western space went red as
if all the fire had swum down there leaving the bell cast flawless blue The
mountainash berries across the field stood fierily out from the dark leaves
for a moment A few shocks of corn in a corner of the fallow stood up as if
alive she imagined them bowing perhaps her son would be a Joseph In the east
a mirrored sunset floated pink opposite the wests scarlet The big haystacks on
the hillside that butted into the glare went cold
With Mrs Morel it was one of those still moments when the small frets
vanish and the beauty of things stands out and she had the peace and the
strength to see herself Now and again a swallow cut close to her Now and
again Annie came up with a handful of aldercurrants The baby was restless on
his mothers knee clambering with his hands at the light
Mrs Morel looked down at him She had dreaded this baby like a catastrophe
because of her feeling for her husband And now she felt strangely towards the
infant Her heart was heavy because of the child almost as if it were
unhealthy or malformed Yet it seemed quite well But she noticed the peculiar
knitting of the babys brows and the peculiar heaviness of its eyes as if it
were trying to understand something that was pain She felt when she looked at
her childs dark brooding pupils as if a burden were on her heart
»He looks as if he was thinking about something quite sorrowful« said
Mrs Kirk
Suddenly looking at him the heavy feeling at the mothers heart melted
into passionate grief She bowed over him and a few tears shook swiftly out of
her very heart The baby lifted his fingers
»My lamb« she cried softly
And at that moment she felt in some far inner place of her soul that she
and her husband were guilty
The baby was looking up at her It had blue eyes like her own but its look
was heavy steady as if it had realised something that had stunned some point
of its soul
In her arms lay the delicate baby Its deep blue eyes always looking up at
her unblinking seemed to draw her innermost thoughts out of her She no longer
loved her husband she had not wanted this child to come and there it lay in
her arms and pulled at her heart She felt as if the navel string that had
connected its frail little body with hers had not been broken A wave of hot
love went over her to the infant She held it close to her face and breast With
all her force with all her soul she would make up to it for having brought it
into the world unloved She would love it all the more now it was here carry it
in her love Its clear knowing eyes gave her pain and fear Did it know all
about her When it lay under her heart had it been listening then Was there a
reproach in the look She felt the marrow melt in her bones with fear and pain
Once more she was aware of the sun lying red on the rim of the hill
opposite She suddenly held up the child in her hands
»Look« she said »Look my pretty«
She thrust the infant forward to the crimson throbbing sun almost with
relief She saw him lift his little fist Then she put him to her bosom again
ashamed almost of her impulse to give him back again whence he came
»If he lives« she thought to herself »what will become of him what will
he be«
Her heart was anxious
»I will call him Paul« she said suddenly she knew not why
After a while she went home A fine shadow was flung over the deep green
meadow darkening all
As she expected she found the house empty But Morel was home by ten
oclock and that day at least ended peacefully
Walter Morel was at this time exceedingly irritable His work seemed to
exhaust him When he came home he did not speak civilly to anybody If the fire
were rather low he bullied about that he grumbled about his dinner if the
children made a chatter he shouted at them in a way that made their mothers
blood boil and made them hate him
On the Friday he was not home by eleven oclock The baby was unwell and
was restless crying if he were put down Mrs Morel tired to death and still
weak was scarcely under control
»I wish the nuisance would come« she said wearily to herself
The child at last sank down to sleep in her arms She was too tired to carry
him to the cradle
»But Ill say nothing whatever time he comes« she said »It only works me
up I wont say anything But I know if he does anything itll make my blood
boil« she added to herself
She sighed hearing him coming as if it were something she could not bear
He taking his revenge was nearly drunk She kept her head bent over the child
as he entered not wishing to see him But it went through her like a flash of
hot fire when in passing he lurched against the dresser setting the tins
rattling and clutched at the white pot knobs for support He hung up his hat
and coat then returned stood glowering from a distance at her as she sat
bowed over the child
»Is there nothing to eat in the house« he asked insolently as if to a
servant In certain stages of his intoxication he affected the clipped mincing
speech of the towns Mrs Morel hated him most in this condition
»You know what there is in the house« she said so coldly it sounded
impersonal
He stood and glared at her without moving a muscle
»I asked a civil question and I expect a civil answer« he said affectedly
»And you got it« she said still ignoring him
He glowered again Then he came unsteadily forward He leaned on the table
with one hand and with the other jerked at the table drawer to get a knife to
cut bread The drawer stuck because he pulled sideways In a temper he dragged
it so that it flew out bodily and spoons forks knives a hundred metallic
things splashed with a clatter and a clang upon the brick floor The baby gave
a little convulsed start
»What are you doing clumsy drunken fool« the mother cried
»Then tha should get the flamin thing thysen Tha should get up like other
women have to an wait on a man«
»Wait on you wait on you« she cried »Yes I see myself«
»Yis an Ill learn thee thas got to Wait on me yes tha shlt wait on me
«
»Never milord Id wait on a dog at the door first«
»What what«
He was trying to fit in the drawer At her last speech he turned round His
face was crimson his eyes bloodshot He stared at her one silent second in
threat
»Ph« she went quickly in contempt
He jerked at the drawer in his excitement It fell cut sharply on his shin
and on the reflex he flung it at her
One of the corners caught her brow as the shallow drawer crashed into the
fireplace She swayed almost fell stunned from her chair To her very soul she
was sick she clasped the child tightly to her bosom A few moments elapsed
then with an effort she brought herself to The baby was crying plaintively
Her left brow was bleeding rather profusely As she glanced down at the child
her brain reeling some drops of blood soaked into its white shawl but the baby
was at least not hurt She balanced her head to keep equilibrium so that the
blood ran into her eye
Walter Morel remained as he had stood leaning on the table with one hand
looking blank When he was sufficiently sure of his balance he went across to
her swayed caught hold of the back of her rockingchair almost tipping her
out then leaning forward over her and swaying as he spoke he said in a tone
of wondering concern
»Did it catch thee«
He swayed again as if he would pitch on to the child With the catastrophe
he had lost all balance
»Go away« she said struggling to keep her presence of mind
He hiccoughed »Lets lets look at it« he said hiccoughing again
»Go away« she cried
»Lemme lemme look at it lass«
She smelled him of drink felt the unequal pull of his swaying grasp on the
back of her rockingchair
»Go away« she said and weakly she pushed him off
He stood uncertain in balance gazing upon her Summoning all her strength
she rose the baby on one arm By a cruel effort of will moving as if in sleep
she went across to the scullery where she bathed her eye for a minute in cold
water but she was too dizzy Afraid lest she should swoon she returned to her
rockingchair trembling in every fibre By instinct she kept the baby clasped
Morel bothered had succeeded in pushing the drawer back into its cavity
and was on his knees groping with numb paws for the scattered spoons
Her brow was still bleeding Presently Morel got up and came craning his
neck towards her
»What has it done to thee lass« he asked in a very wretched humble tone
»You can see what its done« she answered
He stood bending forward supported on his hands which grasped his legs
just above the knee He peered to look at the wound She drew away from the
thrust of his face with its great moustache averting her own face as much as
possible As he looked at her who was cold and impassive as stone with mouth
shut tight he sickened with feebleness and hopelessness of spirit He was
turning drearily away when he saw a drop of blood fall from the averted wound
into the babys fragile glistening hair Fascinated he watched the heavy dark
drop hang in the glistening cloud and pull down the gossamer Another drop
fell It would soak through to the babys scalp He watched fascinated feeling
it soak in then finally his manhood broke
»What of this child« was all his wife said to him But her low intense
tones brought his head lower She softened »Get me some wadding out of the
middle drawer« she said
He stumbled away very obediently presently returning with a pad which she
singed before the fire then put on her forehead as she sat with the baby on
her lap
»Now that clean pitscarf«
Again he rummaged and fumbled in the drawer returning presently with a red
narrow scarf She took it and with trembling fingers proceeded to bind it round
her head
»Let me tie it for thee« he said humbly
»I can do it myself« she replied When it was done she went upstairs
telling him to rake the fire and lock the door
In the morning Mrs Morel said
»I knocked against the latch of the coalplace when I was getting a raker
in the dark because the candle blew out« Her two small children looked up at
her with wide dismayed eyes They said nothing but their parted lips seemed to
express the unconscious tragedy they felt
Walter Morel lay in bed next day until nearly dinnertime He did not think
of the previous evenings work He scarcely thought of anything but he would
not think of that He lay and suffered like a sulking dog He had hurt himself
most and he was the more damaged because he would never say a word to her or
express his sorrow He tried to wriggle out of it »It was her own fault« he
said to himself Nothing however could prevent his inner consciousness
inflicting on him the punishment which ate into his spirit like rust and which
he could only alleviate by drinking
He felt as if he had not the initiative to get up or to say a word or to
move but could only lie like a log Moreover he had himself violent pains in
the head It was Saturday Towards noon he rose cut himself food in the pantry
ate it with his head dropped then pulled on his boots and went out to return
at three oclock slightly tipsy and relieved then once more straight to bed He
rose again at six in the evening had tea and went straight out
Sunday was the same bed till noon the Palmerston Arms till 230 dinner
and bed scarcely a word spoken When Mrs Morel went upstairs towards four
oclock to put on her Sunday dress he was fast asleep She would have felt
sorry for him if he had once said »Wife Im sorry« But no he insisted to
himself it was her fault And so he broke himself So she merely left him alone
There was this deadlock of passion between them and she was stronger
The family began tea Sunday was the only day when all sat down to meals
together
»Isnt my father going to get up« asked William
»Let him lie« the mother replied
There was a feeling of misery over all the house The children breathed the
air that was poisoned and they felt dreary They were rather disconsolate did
not know what to do what to play at
Immediately Morel woke he got straight out of bed That was characteristic
of him all his life He was all for activity The prostrated inactivity of two
mornings was stifling him
It was near six oclock when he got down This time he entered without
hesitation his wincing sensitiveness having hardened again He did not care any
longer what the family thought or felt
The teathings were on the table William was reading aloud from »The
Childs Own« Annie listening and asking eternally »why« Both children hushed
into silence as they heard the approaching thud of their fathers stockinged
feet and shrank as he entered Yet he was usually indulgent to them
Morel made the meal alone brutally He ate and drank more noisily than he
had need No one spoke to him The family life withdrew shrank away and became
hushed as he entered But he cared no longer about his alienation
Immediately he had finished tea he rose with alacrity to go out It was this
alacrity this haste to be gone which so sickened Mrs Morel As she heard him
sousing heartily in cold water heard the eager scratch of the steel comb on the
side of the bowl as he wetted his hair she closed her eyes in disgust As he
bent over lacing his boots there was a certain vulgar gusto in his movement
that divided him from the reserved watchful rest of the family He always ran
away from the battle with himself Even in his own hearts privacy he excused
himself saying »If she hadnt said soandso it would never have happened
She asked for what shes got« The children waited in restraint during his
preparations When he had gone they sighed with relief
He closed the door behind him and was glad It was a rainy evening The
Palmerston would be the cosier He hastened forward in anticipation All the
slate roofs of the Bottoms shone black with wet The roads always dark with
coaldust were full of blackish mud He hastened along The Palmerston windows
were steamed over The passage was paddled with wet feet But the air was warm
if foul and full of the sound of voices and the smell of beer and smoke
»What shollt hae Walter« cried a voice as soon as Morel appeared in the
doorway
»Oh Jim my lad wheriver has thee sprung frae«
The men made a seat for him and took him in warmly He was glad In a
minute or two they had thawed all responsibility out of him all shame all
trouble and he was clear as a bell for a jolly night
On the Wednesday following Morel was penniless He dreaded his wife Having
hurt her he hated her He did not know what to do with himself that evening
having not even twopence with which to go to the Palmerston and being already
rather deeply in debt So while his wife was down the garden with the child he
hunted in the top drawer of the dresser where she kept her purse found it and
looked inside It contained a halfcrown two halfpennies and a sixpence So he
took the sixpence put the purse carefully back and went out
The next day when she wanted to pay the greengrocer she looked in the
purse for her sixpence and her heart sank to her shoes Then she sat down and
thought »Was there a sixpence I hadnt spent it had I And I hadnt left it
anywhere else«
She was much put about She hunted round everywhere for it And as she
sought the conviction came into her heart that her husband had taken it What
she had in her purse was all the money she possessed But that he should sneak
it from her thus was unbearable He had done so twice before The first time she
had not accused him and at the weekend he had put the shilling again into her
purse So that was how she had known he had taken it The second time he had not
paid back
This time she felt it was too much When he had had his dinner he came
home early that day she said to him coldly
»Did you take sixpence out of my purse last night«
»Me« he said looking up in an offended way »No I didna I niver clapped
eyes on your purse«
But she could detect the lie
»Why you know you did« she said quietly
»I tell you I didna« he shouted »Yer at me again are yer Ive had about
enough ont«
»So you filch sixpence out of my purse while Im taking the clothes in«
»Ill may yer pay for this« he said pushing back his chair in desperation
He bustled and got washed then went determinedly upstairs Presently he came
down dressed and with a big bundle in a bluechecked enormous handkerchief
»And now« he said »youll see me again when you do«
»Itll be before I want to« she replied and at that he marched out of the
house with his bundle She sat trembling slightly but her heart brimming with
contempt What would she do if he went to some other pit obtained work and got
in with another woman But she knew him too well he couldnt She was dead
sure of him Nevertheless her heart was gnawed inside her
»Wheres my dad« said William coming in from school
»He says hes run away« replied the mother
»Where to«
»Eh I dont know Hes taken a bundle in the blue handkerchief and says
hes not coming back«
»What shall we do« cried the boy
»Eh never trouble he wont go far«
»But if he doesnt come back« wailed Annie
And she and William retired to the sofa and wept Mrs Morel sat and
laughed
»You pair of gabeys« she exclaimed »Youll see him before the nights
out«
But the children were not to be consoled Twilight came on Mrs Morel grew
anxious from very weariness One part of her said it would be a relief to see
the last of him another part fretted because of keeping the children and
inside her as yet she could not quite let him go At the bottom she knew very
well he could not go
When she went down to the coalplace at the end of the garden however she
felt something behind the door So she looked And there in the dark lay the big
blue bundle She sat on a piece of coal and laughed Every time she saw it so
fat and yet so ignominious slunk into its corner in the dark with its ends
flopping like dejected ears from the knots she laughed again She was relieved
Mrs Morel sat waiting He had not any money she knew so if he stopped he
was running up a bill She was very tired of him tired to death He had not
even the courage to carry his bundle beyond the yardend
As she meditated at about nine oclock he opened the door and came in
slinking and yet sulky She said not a word He took off his coat and slunk to
his armchair where he began to take off his boots
»Youd better fetch your bundle before you take your boots off« she said
quietly
»You may thank your stars Ive come back tonight« he said looking up from
under his dropped head sulkily trying to be impressive
»Why where should you have gone You darent even get your parcel through
the yardend« she said
He looked such a fool she was not even angry with him He continued to take
his boots off and prepare for bed
»I dont know whats in your blue handkerchief« she said »But if you leave
it the children shall fetch it in the morning«
Whereupon he got up and went out of the house returning presently and
crossing the kitchen with averted face hurrying upstairs As Mrs Morel saw him
slink quickly through the inner doorway holding his bundle she laughed to
herself but her heart was bitter because she had loved him
Chapter III
The Casting Off of Morel The Taking On of William
During the next week Morels temper was almost unbearable Like all miners he
was a great lover of medicines which strangely enough he would often pay for
himself
»You mun get me a drop o laxy vitral« he said »Its a winder as we canna
hae a sup i th ouse«
So Mrs Morel bought him elixir of vitriol his favourite first medicine
And he made himself a jug of wormwood tea He had hanging in the attic great
bunches of dried herbs wormwood rue horehound elder flowers parsleypurt
marshmallow hyssop dandelion and centaury Usually there was a jug of one or
other decoction standing on the hob from which he drank largely
»Grand« he said smacking his lips after wormwood »Grand« And he exhorted
the children to try
»Its better than any of your tea or your cocoa stews« he vowed But they
were not to be tempted
This time however neither pills nor vitriol nor all his herbs would shift
the nasty peens in his head He was sickening for an attack of an inflammation
of the brain He had never been well since his sleeping on the ground when he
went with Jerry to Nottingham Since then he had drunk and stormed Now he fell
seriously ill and Mrs Morel had him to nurse He was one of the worst patients
imaginable But in spite of all and putting aside the fact that he was
breadwinner she never quite wanted him to die Still there was one part of her
wanted him for herself
The neighbours were very good to her occasionally some had the children in
to meals occasionally some would do the downstairs work for her one would mind
the baby for a day But it was a great drag nevertheless It was not every day
the neighbours helped Then she had nursing of baby and husband cleaning and
cooking everything to do She was quite worn out but she did what was wanted
of her
And the money was just sufficient She had seventeen shillings a week from
clubs and every Friday Barker and the other butty put by a portion of the
stalls profits for Morels wife And the neighbours made broths and gave eggs
and such invalids trifles If they had not helped her so generously in those
times Mrs Morel would never have pulled through without incurring debts that
would have dragged her down
The weeks passed Morel almost against hope grew better He had a fine
constitution so that once on the mend he went straight forward to recovery
Soon he was pottering about downstairs During his illness his wife had spoilt
him a little Now he wanted her to continue He often put his hand to his head
pulled down the corners of his mouth and shammed pains he did not feel But
there was no deceiving her At first she merely smiled to herself Then she
scolded him sharply
»Goodness man dont be so lachrymose«
That wounded him slightly but still he continued to feign sickness
»I wouldnt be such a mardy baby« said the wife shortly
Then he was indignant and cursed under his breath like a boy He was
forced to resume a normal tone and to cease to whine
Nevertheless there was a state of peace in the house for some time Mrs
Morel was more tolerant of him and he depending on her almost like a child
was rather happy Neither knew that she was more tolerant because she loved him
less Up till this time in spite of all he had been her husband and her man
She had felt that more or less what he did to himself he did to her Her
living depended on him There were many many stages in the ebbing of her love
for him but it was always ebbing
Now with the birth of this third baby her self no longer set towards him
helplessly but was like a tide that scarcely rose standing off from him After
this she scarcely desired him And standing more aloof from him not feeling
him so much part of herself but merely part of her circumstances she did not
mind so much what he did could leave him alone
There was the halt the wistfulness about the ensuing year which is like
autumn in a mans life His wife was casting him off half regretfully but
relentlessly casting him off and turning now for love and life to the children
Henceforward he was more or less a husk And he himself acquiesced as so many
men do yielding their place to their children
During his recuperation when it was really over between them both made an
effort to come back somewhat to the old relationship of the first months of
their marriage He sat at home and when the children were in bed and she was
sewing she did all her sewing by hand made all shirts and childrens clothing
he would read to her from the newspaper slowly pronouncing and delivering the
words like a man pitching quoits Often she hurried him on giving him a phrase
in anticipation And then he took her words humbly
The silences between them were peculiar There would be the swift slight
cluck of her needle the sharp pop of his lips as he let out the smoke the
warmth the sizzle on the bars as he spat in the fire Then her thoughts turned
to William Already he was getting a big boy Already he was top of the class,
and the master said he was the smartest lad in the school She saw him a man
young full of vigour making the world glow again for her
And Morel sitting there quite alone and having nothing to think about
would be feeling vaguely uncomfortable His soul would reach out in its blind
way to her and find her gone He felt a sort of emptiness almost like a vacuum
in his soul He was unsettled and restless Soon he could not live in that
atmosphere and he affected his wife Both felt an oppression on their breathing
when they were left together for some time Then he went to bed and she settled
down to enjoy herself alone working thinking living
Meanwhile another infant was coming fruit of this little peace and
tenderness between the separating parents Paul was seventeen months old when
the new baby was born He was then a plump pale child quiet with heavy blue
eyes and still the peculiar slight knitting of the brows The last child was
also a boy fair and bonny Mrs Morel was sorry when she knew she was with
child both for economic reasons and because she did not love her husband but
not for the sake of the infant
They called the baby Arthur He was very pretty with a mop of gold curls
and he loved his father from the first Mrs Morel was glad this child loved the
father Hearing the miners footsteps the baby would put up his arms and crow
And if Morel were in a good temper he called back immediately in his hearty
mellow voice
»What then my beauty I shll come to thee in a minute«
And as soon as he had taken off his pitcoat Mrs Morel would put an apron
round the child and give him to his father
»What a sight the lad looks« she would exclaim sometimes taking back the
baby that was smutted on the face from his fathers kisses and play Then Morel
laughed joyfully
»Hes a little collier bless his bit o mutton« he exclaimed
And these were the happy moments of her life now when the children included
the father in her heart
Meanwhile William grew bigger and stronger and more active while Paul
always rather delicate and quiet got slimmer and trotted after his mother like
her shadow He was usually active and interested but sometimes he would have
fits of depression Then the mother would find the boy of three or four crying
on the sofa
»Whats the matter« she asked and got no answer
»Whats the matter« she insisted getting cross
»I dont know« sobbed the child
So she tried to reason him out of it or to amuse him but without effect
It made her feel beside herself Then the father always impatient would jump
from his chair and shout
»If he doesnt stop Ill smack him till he does«
»Youll do nothing of the sort« said the mother coldly And then she
carried the child into the yard plumped him into his little chair and said
»Now cry there Misery«
And then a butterfly on the rhubarbleaves perhaps caught his eye or at
last he cried himself to sleep These fits were not often but they caused a
shadow in Mrs Morels heart and her treatment of Paul was different from that
of the other children
Suddenly one morning as she was looking down the alley of the Bottoms for
the barmman she heard a voice calling her It was the thin little Mrs Anthony
in brown velvet
»Here Mrs Morel I want to tell you about your Willie«
»Oh do you« replied Mrs Morel »Why whats the matter«
»A lad as gets old of another an rips his clothes offn is back« Mrs
Anthony said »wants showing something«
»Your Alfreds as old as my William« said Mrs Morel
»Appen e is but that doesnt give him a right to get hold of the boys
collar an fair rip it clean off his back«
»Well« said Mrs Morel »I dont thrash my children and even if I did I
should want to hear their side of the tale«
»Theyd happen be a bit better if they did get a good hiding« retorted Mrs
Anthony »When it comes ter rippin a lads clean collar offn is back
apurpose «
»Im sure he didnt do it on purpose« said Mrs Morel
»Make me a liar« shouted Mrs Anthony
Mrs Morel moved away and closed her gate Her hand trembled as she held her
mug of barm
»But I sll let your mester know« Mrs Anthony cried after her
At dinnertime when William had finished his meal and wanted to be off
again he was then eleven years old his mother said to him
»What did you tear Alfred Anthonys collar for«
»When did I tear his collar«
»I dont know when but his mother says you did«
»Why it was yesterday an it was torn aready«
»But you tore it more«
»Well Id got a cobbler as ad licked seventeen an Alfy Antny e says
Adam an Eve an pinchme
Went down to a river to bade
Adam an Eve got drownded
Who do yer think got saved
An so I says Oh Pinchyou an so I pinched im an e was mad an so he
snatched my cobbler an run off with it An so I run after im an when I was
gettin hold of im e dodged an it ripped is collar But I got my cobbler
«
He pulled from his pocket a black old horsechestnut hanging on a string
This old cobbler had cobbled hit and smashed seventeen other cobblers on
similar strings So the boy was proud of his veteran
»Well« said Mrs Morel »you know youve got no right to rip his collar«
»Well our mother« he answered »I never meant tra done it an it was
ony an old indirrubber collar as was torn aready«
»Next time« said his mother »you be more careful I shouldnt like it if
you came home with your collar torn off«
»I dont care our mother I never did it apurpose«
The boy was rather miserable at being reprimanded
»No well you be more careful«
William fled away glad to be exonerated And Mrs Morel who hated any
bother with the neighbours thought she would explain to Mrs Anthony and the
business would be over
But that evening Morel came in from the pit looking very sour He stood in
the kitchen and glared round but did not speak for some minutes Then
»Wheers that Willy« he asked
»What do you want him for« asked Mrs Morel who had guessed
»Ill let im know when I get him« said Morel banging his pitbottle on to
the dresser
»I suppose Mrs Anthonys got hold of you and been yarning to you about
Alfys collar« said Mrs Morel rather sneering
»Niver mind whos got hold of me« said Morel »When I get hold of im Ill
make his bones rattle«
»Its a poor tale« said Mrs Morel »that youre so ready to side with any
snipey vixen who likes to come telling tales against your own children«
»Ill learn im« said Morel »It none matters to me whose lad e is es
none goin rippin an tearin about just as hes a mind«
»Ripping and tearing about« repeated Mrs Morel »He was running after that
Alfy whod taken his cobbler and he accidentally got hold of his collar
because the other dodged as an Anthony would«
»I know« shouted Morel threateningly
»You would before youre told« replied his wife bitingly
»Niver you mind« stormed Morel »I know my business«
»Thats more than doubtful« said Mrs Morel »supposing some loudmouthed
creature had been getting you to thrash your own children«
»I know« repeated Morel
And he said no more but sat and nursed his bad temper Suddenly William ran
in saying
»Can I have my tea mother«
»Tha can hae more than that« shouted Morel
»Hold your noise man« said Mrs Morel »and dont look so ridiculous«
»Hell look ridiculous before Ive done wi him« shouted Morel rising from
his chair and glaring at his son
William who was a tall lad for his years but very sensitive had gone
pale and was looking in a sort of horror at his father
»Go out« Mrs Morel commanded her son
William had not the wit to move Suddenly Morel clenched his fist and
crouched
»Ill gie him go out« he shouted like an insane thing
»What« cried Mrs Morel panting with rage »You shall not touch him for
her telling you shall not«
»Shonna I« shouted Morel »Shonna I«
And glaring at the boy he ran forward Mrs Morel sprang in between them
with her fist lifted
»Dont you dare« she cried
»What« he shouted baffled for the moment »What«
She spun round to her son
»Go out of the house« she commanded him in fury
The boy as if hypnotised by her turned suddenly and was gone Morel rushed
to the door but was too late He returned pale under his pitdirt with fury
But now his wife was fully roused
»Only dare« she said in a loud ringing voice »Only dare milord to lay a
finger on that child Youll regret it for ever«
He was afraid of her In a towering rage he sat down
When the children were old enough to be left Mrs Morel joined the Womens
Guild It was a little club of women attached to the Cooperative Wholesale
Society which met on Monday night in the long room over the grocery shop of the
Bestwood Coop The women were supposed to discuss the benefits to be derived
from cooperation and other social questions Sometimes Mrs Morel read a
paper It seemed queer to the children to see their mother who was always busy
about the house sitting writing in her rapid fashion thinking referring to
books and writing again They felt for her on such occasions the deepest
respect
But they loved the Guild It was the only thing to which they did not grudge
their mother and that partly because she enjoyed it partly because of the
treats they derived from it The Guild was called by some hostile husbands who
found their wives getting too independent the clatfart shop that is the
gossipshop It is true from off the basis of the Guild the women could look
at their homes at the conditions of their own lives and find fault So the
colliers found their women had a new standard of their own rather
disconcerting And also Mrs Morel always had a lot of news on Monday nights
so that the children liked William to be in when their mother came home because
she told him things
Then when the lad was thirteen she got him a job in the Coop office He
was a very clever boy frank with rather rough features and real viking blue
eyes
»What dost want ter mae a stoolharsed Jack on im for« said Morel »All
hell do is to wear his britches behind out an earn nowt Whats e startin
wi«
»It doesnt matter what hes starting with« said Mrs Morel
»It wouldna Put im i th pit we me an ell earn a easy ten shillin a
wik from th start But six shillin wearin his truckend out on a stools
better than ten shillin i th pit wi me I know«
»He is not going in the pit« said Mrs Morel »and theres an end of it«
»It wor good enough for me but its non good enough for im«
»If your mother put you in the pit at twelve its no reason why I should do
the same with my lad«
»Twelve It wor a sight afore that«
»Whenever it was« said Mrs Morel
She was very proud of her son He went to the night school and learned
shorthand so that by the time he was sixteen he was the best shorthand clerk
and bookkeeper on the place except one Then he taught in the night schools
But he was so fiery that only his goodnature and his size protected him
All the things that men do the decent things William did He could run
like the wind When he was twelve he won a first prize in a race an inkstand of
glass shaped like an anvil It stood proudly on the dresser and gave Mrs
Morel a keen pleasure The boy only ran for her He flew home with his anvil
breathless with a »Look mother« That was the first real tribute to herself
She took it like a queen
»How pretty« she exclaimed
Then he began to get ambitious He gave all his money to his mother When he
earned fourteen shillings a week she gave him back two for himself and as he
never drank he felt himself rich He went about with the bourgeois of Bestwood
The townlet contained nothing higher than the clergyman Then came the bank
manager then the doctors then the tradespeople and after that the hosts of
colliers William began to consort with the sons of the chemist the
schoolmaster and the tradesmen He played billiards in the Mechanics Hall
Also he danced this in spite of his mother All the life that Bestwood offered
he enjoyed from the sixpennyhops down Church Street to sports and billiards
Paul was treated to dazzling descriptions of all kinds of flowerlike
ladies most of whom lived like cut blooms in Williams heart for a brief
fortnight
Occasionally some flame would come in pursuit of her errant swain Mrs
Morel would find a strange girl at the door and immediately she sniffed the
air
»Is Mr Morel in« the damsel would ask appealingly
»My husband is at home« Mrs Morel replied
»I I mean young Mr Morel« repeated the maiden painfully
»Which one There are several«
Whereupon much blushing and stammering from the fair one
»I I met Mr Morel at Ripley« she explained
»Oh at a dance«
»Yes«
»I dont approve of the girls my son meets at dances And he is not at
home«
Then he came home angry with his mother for having turned the girl away so
rudely He was a careless yet eagerlooking fellow who walked with long
strides sometimes frowning often with his cap pushed jollily to the back of
his head Now he came in frowning He threw his cap on to the sofa and took his
strong jaw in his hand and glared down at his mother She was small with her
hair taken straight back from her forehead She had a quiet air of authority
and yet of rare warmth Knowing her son was angry she trembled inwardly
»Did a lady call for me yesterday mother« he asked
»I dont know about a lady There was a girl came«
»And why didnt you tell me«
»Because I forgot simply«
He fumed a little
»A goodlooking girl seemed a lady«
»I didnt look at her«
»Big brown eyes«
»I did not look And tell your girls my son that when theyre running
after you theyre not to come and ask your mother for you Tell them that
brazen baggages you meet at dancingclasses«
»Im sure she was a nice girl«
»And Im sure she wasnt«
There ended the altercation Over the dancing there was a great strife
between the mother and the son The grievance reached its height when William
said he was going to Hucknall Torkard considered a low town to a fancydress
ball He was to be a Highlander There was a dress he could hire which one of
his friends had had and which fitted him perfectly The Highland suit came
home Mrs Morel received it coldly and would not unpack it
»My suit come« cried William
»Theres a parcel in the front room«
He rushed in and cut the string
»How do you fancy your son in this« he said enraptured showing her the
suit
»You know I dont want to fancy you in it«
On the evening of the dance when he had come home to dress Mrs Morel put
on her coat and bonnet
»Arent you going to stop and see me mother« he asked
»No I dont want to see you« she replied
She was rather pale and her face was closed and hard She was afraid of her
sons going the same way as his father He hesitated a moment and his heart
stood still with anxiety Then he caught sight of the Highland bonnet with its
ribbons He picked it up gleefully forgetting her She went out
When he was nineteen he suddenly left the Coop office and got a situation
in Nottingham In his new place he had thirty shillings a week instead of
eighteen This was indeed a rise His mother and his father were brimmed up with
pride Everybody praised William It seemed he was going to get on rapidly Mrs
Morel hoped with his aid to help her younger sons Annie was now studying to
be a teacher Paul also very clever was getting on well having lessons in
French and German from his godfather the clergyman who was still a friend to
Mrs Morel Arthur a spoilt and very goodlooking boy was at the Board school
but there was talk of his trying to get a scholarship for the High School in
Nottingham
William remained a year at his new post in Nottingham He was studying hard
and growing serious Something seemed to be fretting him Still he went out to
the dances and the river parties He did not drink The children were all rabid
teetotallers He came home very late at night and sat yet longer studying His
mother implored him to take more care to do one thing or another
»Dance if you want to dance my son but dont think you can work in the
office and then amuse yourself and then study on top of all You cant the
human frame wont stand it Do one thing or the other amuse yourself or learn
Latin but dont try to do both«
Then he got a place in London at a hundred and twenty a year This seemed a
fabulous sum His mother doubted almost whether to rejoice or to grieve
»They want me in Lime Street on Monday week mother« he cried his eyes
blazing as he read the letter Mrs Morel felt everything go silent inside her
He read the letter »And will you reply by Thursday whether you accept Yours
faithfully They want me mother at a hundred and twenty a year and dont
even ask to see me Didnt I tell you I could do it Think of me in London And
I can give you twenty pounds a year mater We sll all be rolling in money«
»We shall my son« she answered sadly
It never occurred to him that she might be more hurt at his going away than
glad of his success Indeed as the days drew near for his departure her heart
began to close and grow dreary with despair She loved him so much More than
that she hoped in him so much Almost she lived by him She liked to do things
for him she liked to put a cup for his tea and to iron his collars of which he
was so proud It was a joy to her to have him proud of his collars There was no
laundry So she used to rub away at them with her little convex iron to polish
them till they shone from the sheer pressure of her arm Now she would not do
it for him Now he was going away She felt almost as if he were going as well
out of her heart He did not seem to leave her inhabited with himself That was
the grief and the pain to her He took nearly all himself away
A few days before his departure he was just twenty he burned his
loveletters They had hung on a file at the top of the kitchen cupboard From
some of them he had read extracts to his mother Some of them she had taken the
trouble to read herself But most were too trivial
Now on the Saturday morning he said
»Come on Postle lets go through my letters and you can have the birds
and flowers«
Mrs Morel had done her Saturdays work on the Friday because he was having
a last days holiday She was making him a rice cake which he loved to take
with him He was scarcely conscious that she was so miserable
He took the first letter off the file It was mauvetinted and had purple
and green thistles William sniffed the page
»Nice scent Smell«
And he thrust the sheet under Pauls nose
»Um« said Paul breathing in »What dyou call it Smell mother«
His mother ducked her small fine nose down to the paper
»I dont want to smell their rubbish« she said sniffing
»This girls father« said William »is as rich as Croesus He owns property
without end She calls me Lafayette because I know French You will see Ive
forgiven you I like her forgiving me I told mother about you this morning
and she will have much pleasure if you come to tea on Sunday but she will have
to get fathers consent also I sincerely hope he will agree I will let you
know how it transpires If however you «
»Let you know how it what« interrupted Mrs Morel
»Transpires oh yes«
»Transpires« repeated Mrs Morel mockingly »I thought she was so well
educated«
William felt slightly uncomfortable and abandoned this maiden giving Paul
the corner with the thistles He continued to read extracts from his letters
some of which amused his mother some of which saddened her and made her anxious
for him
»My lad« she said »theyre very wise They know theyve only got to
flatter your vanity and you press up to them like a dog that has its head
scratched«
»Well they cant go on scratching for ever« he replied »And when theyve
done I trot away«
»But one day youll find a string round your neck that you cant pull off«
she answered
»Not me Im equal to any of em mater they neednt flatter themselves«
»You flatter yourself« she said quietly
Soon there was a heap of twisted black pages all that remained of the file
of scented letters except that Paul had thirty or forty pretty tickets from the
corners of the notepaper swallows and forgetmenots and ivy sprays And
William went to London to start a new life
Chapter IV
The Young Life of Paul
Paul would be built like his mother slightly and rather small His fair hair
went reddish and then dark brown his eyes were grey He was a pale quiet
child with eyes that seemed to listen and with a full dropping underlip
As a rule he seemed old for his years He was so conscious of what other
people felt particularly his mother When she fretted he understood and could
have no peace His soul seemed always attentive to her
As he grew older he became stronger William was too far removed from him to
accept him as a companion So the smaller boy belonged at first almost entirely
to Annie She was a tomboy and a flybieskybie as her mother called her But
she was intensely fond of her second brother So Paul was towed round at the
heels of Annie sharing her game She raced wildly at lerky with the other young
wildcats of the Bottoms And always Paul flew beside her living her share of
the game having as yet no part of his own He was quiet and not noticeable But
his sister adored him He always seemed to care for things if she wanted him to
She had a big doll of which she was fearfully proud though not so fond So
she laid the doll on the sofa and covered it with an antimacassar to sleep
Then she forgot it Meantime Paul must practise jumping off the sofa arm So he
jumped crash into the face of the hidden doll Annie rushed up uttered a loud
wail and sat down to weep a dirge Paul remained quite still
»You couldnt tell it was there mother you couldnt tell it was there« he
repeated over and over So long as Annie wept for the doll he sat helpless with
misery Her grief wore itself out She forgave her brother he was so much
upset But a day or two afterwards she was shocked
»Lets make a sacrifice of Arabella« he said »Lets burn her«
She was horrified yet rather fascinated She wanted to see what the boy
would do He made an altar of bricks pulled some of the shavings out of
Arabellas body put the waxen fragments into the hollow face poured on a
little paraffin and set the whole thing alight He watched with wicked
satisfaction the drops of wax melt off the broken forehead of Arabella and drop
like sweat into the flame So long as the stupid big doll burned he rejoiced in
silence At the end he poked among the embers with a stick fished out the arms
and legs all blackened and smashed them under stones
»Thats the sacrifice of Missis Arabella« he said »An Im glad theres
nothing left of her«
Which disturbed Annie inwardly although she could say nothing He seemed to
hate the doll so intensely because he had broken it
All the children but particularly Paul were peculiarly against their
father along with their mother Morel continued to bully and to drink He had
periods months at a time when he made the whole life of the family a misery
Paul never forgot coming home from the Band of Hope one Monday evening and
finding his mother with her eye swollen and discoloured his father standing on
the hearthrug feet astride his head down and William just home from work
glaring at his father There was a silence as the young children entered but
none of the elders looked round
William was white to the lips and his fists were clenched He waited until
the children were silent watching with childrens rage and hate then he said
»You coward you darent do it when I was in«
But Morels blood was up He swung round on his son William was bigger but
Morel was hardmuscled and mad with fury
»Dossnt I« he shouted »Dossnt I Hae much more o thy chelp my young
jockey an Ill rattle my fist about thee Ay an I sholl that dost see«
Morel crouched at the knees and showed his fist in an ugly almost
beastlike fashion William was white with rage
»Will yer« he said quiet and intense »It ud be the last time though«
Morel danced a little nearer crouching drawing back his fist to strike
William put his fists ready A light came into his blue eyes almost like a
laugh He watched his father Another word and the men would have begun to
fight Paul hoped they would The three children sat pale on the sofa
»Stop it both of you« cried Mrs Morel in a hard voice »Weve had enough
for one night And you« she said turning on to her husband »look at your
children«
Morel glanced at the sofa
»Look at the children you nasty little bitch« he sneered »Why what have
I done to the children I should like to know But theyre like yourself youve
put em up to your own tricks and nasty ways youve learned em in it you
ave«
She refused to answer him No one spoke After a while he threw his boots
under the table and went to bed
»Why didnt you let me have a go at him« said William when his father was
upstairs »I could easily have beaten him«
»A nice thing your own father« she replied
»Father« repeated William »Call him my father«
»Well he is and so «
»But why dont you let me settle him I could do easily«
»The idea« she cried »It hasnt come to that yet«
»No« he said »its come to worse Look at yourself Why didnt you let me
give it him«
»Because I couldnt bear it so never think of it« she cried quickly
And the children went to bed miserably
When William was growing up the family moved from the Bottoms to a house on
the brow of the hill commanding a view of the valley which spread out like a
convex cockleshell or a clampshell before it In front of the house was a
huge old ashtree The west wind sweeping from Derbyshire caught the houses
with full force and the tree shrieked again Morel liked it
»Its music« he said »It sends me to sleep«
But Paul and Arthur and Annie hated it To Paul it became almost a
demoniacal noise The winter of their first year in the new house their father
was very bad The children played in the street on the brim of the wide dark
valley until eight oclock Then they went to bed Their mother sat sewing
below Having such a great space in front of the house gave the children a
feeling of night of vastness and of terror This terror came in from the
shrieking of the tree and the anguish of the home discord Often Paul would wake
up after he had been asleep a long time aware of thuds downstairs Instantly
he was wide awake Then he heard the booming shouts of his father come home
nearly drunk then the sharp replies of his mother then the bang bang of his
fathers fist on the table and the nasty snarling shout as the mans voice got
higher And then the whole was drowned in a piercing medley of shrieks and cries
from the great windswept ashtree The children lay silent in suspense
waiting for a lull in the wind to hear what their father was doing He might hit
their mother again There was a feeling of horror a kind of bristling in the
darkness and a sense of blood They lay with their hearts in the grip of an
intense anguish The wind came through the tree fiercer and fiercer All the
cords of the great harp hummed whistled and shrieked And then came the horror
of the sudden silence silence everywhere outside and downstairs What was it
Was it a silence of blood What had he done
The children lay and breathed the darkness And then at last they heard
their father throw down his boots and tramp upstairs in his stockinged feet
Still they listened Then at last if the wind allowed they heard the water of
the tap drumming into the kettle which their mother was filling for morning
and they could go to sleep in peace
So they were happy in the morning happy very happy playing dancing at
night round the lonely lamppost in the midst of the darkness But they had one
tight place of anxiety in their hearts one darkness in their eyes which showed
all their lives
Paul hated his father As a boy he had a fervent private religion
»Make him stop drinking« he prayed every night »Lord let my father die«
he prayed very often »Let him not be killed at pit« he prayed when after tea
the father did not come home from work
That was another time when the family suffered intensely The children came
from school and had their teas On the hob the big black saucepan was simmering
the stewjar was in the oven ready for Morels dinner He was expected at five
oclock But for months he would stop and drink every night on his way from
work
In the winter nights when it was cold and grew dark early Mrs Morel
would put a brass candlestick on the table light a tallow candle to save the
gas The children finished their breadandbutter or dripping and were ready
to go out to play But if Morel had not come they faltered The sense of his
sitting in all his pitdirt drinking after a long days work not coming home
and eating and washing but sitting getting drunk on an empty stomach made
Mrs Morel unable to bear herself From her the feeling was transmitted to the
other children She never suffered alone any more the children suffered with
her
Paul went out to play with the rest Down in the great trough of twilight
tiny clusters of lights burned where the pits were A few last colliers
straggled up the dim field path The lamplighter came along No more colliers
came Darkness shut down over the valley work was done It was night
Then Paul ran anxiously into the kitchen The one candle still burned on the
table the big fire glowed red Mrs Morel sat alone On the hob the saucepan
steamed the dinnerplate lay waiting on the table All the room was full of the
sense of waiting waiting for the man who was sitting in his pitdirt
dinnerless some mile away from home across the darkness drinking himself
drunk Paul stood in the doorway
»Has my dad come« he asked
»You can see he hasnt« said Mrs Morel cross with the futility of the
question
Then the boy dawdled about near his mother They shared the same anxiety
Presently Mrs Morel went out and strained the potatoes
»Theyre ruined and black« she said »but what do I care«
Not many words were spoken Paul almost hated his mother for suffering
because his father did not come home from work
»What do you bother yourself for« he said »If he wants to stop and get
drunk why dont you let him«
»Let him« flashed Mrs Morel »You may well say let him«
She knew that the man who stops on the way home from work is on a quick way
to ruining himself and his home The children were yet young and depended on
the breadwinner William gave her the sense of relief providing her at last
with someone to turn to if Morel failed But the tense atmosphere of the room on
these waiting evenings was the same
The minutes ticked away At six oclock still the cloth lay on the table
still the dinner stood waiting still the same sense of anxiety and expectation
in the room The boy could not stand it any longer He could not go out and
play So he ran in to Mrs Inger next door but one for her to talk to him She
had no children Her husband was good to her but was in a shop and came home
late So when she saw the lad at the door she called
»Come in Paul«
The two sat talking for some time when suddenly the boy rose saying
»Well Ill be going and seeing if my mother wants an errand doing«
He pretended to be perfectly cheerful and did not tell his friend what
ailed him Then he ran indoors
Morel at these times came in churlish and hateful
»This is a nice time to come home« said Mrs Morel
»Whas it matter to yo what time I come whoam« he shouted
And everybody in the house was still because he was dangerous He ate his
food in the most brutal manner possible and when he had done pushed all the
pots in a heap away from him to lay his arms on the table Then he went to
sleep
Paul hated his father so The colliers small mean head with its black
hair slightly soiled with grey lay on the bare arms and the face dirty and
inflamed with a fleshy nose and thin paltry brows was turned sideways asleep
with beer and weariness and nasty temper If anyone entered suddenly or a noise
were made the man looked up and shouted
»Ill lay my fist about thy yead Im tellin thee if tha doesna stop that
clatter Dost hear«
And the two last words shouted in a bullying fashion usually at Annie
made the family writhe with hate of the man
He was shut out from all family affairs No one told him anything The
children alone with their mother told her all about the days happenings
everything Nothing had really taken place in them until it was told to their
mother But as soon as the father came in everything stopped He was like the
scotch in the smooth happy machinery of the home And he was always aware of
this fall of silence on his entry the shutting off of life the unwelcome But
now it was gone too far to alter
He would dearly have liked the children to talk to him but they could not
Sometimes Mrs Morel would say
»You ought to tell your father«
Paul won a prize in a competition in a childs paper Everybody was highly
jubilant
»Now youd better tell your father when he comes in« said Mrs Morel »You
know how he carries on and says hes never told anything«
»All right« said Paul But he would almost rather have forfeited the prize
than have to tell his father
»Ive won a prize in a competition dad« he said
Morel turned round to him
»Have you my boy What sort of a competition«
»Oh nothing about famous women«
»And how much is the prize then as youve got«
»Its a book«
»Oh indeed«
»About birds«
»Hm hm«
And that was all Conversation was impossible between the father and any
other member of the family He was an outsider He had denied the God in him
The only times when he entered again into the life of his own people was
when he worked and was happy at work Sometimes in the evening he cobbled the
boots or mended the kettle or his pitbottle Then he always wanted several
attendants and the children enjoyed it They united with him in the work in
actual doing of something when he was his real self again
He was a good workman dexterous and one who when he was in a good humour
always sang He had whole periods months almost years of friction and nasty
temper Then sometimes he was jolly again It was nice to see him run with a
piece of redhot iron into the scullery crying
»Out of my road out of my road«
Then he hammered the soft redglowing stuff on his iron goose and made the
shape he wanted Or he sat absorbed for a moment soldering Then the children
watched with joy as the metal sank suddenly molten and was shoved about against
the nose of the solderingiron while the room was full of a scent of burnt
resin and hot tin and Morel was silent and intent for a minute He always sang
when he mended boots because of the jolly sound of hammering And he was rather
happy when he sat putting great patches on his moleskin pit trousers which he
would often do considering them too dirty and the stuff too hard for his wife
to mend
But the best time for the young children was when he made fuses Morel
fetched a sheaf of long sound wheatstraws from the attic These he cleaned with
his hand till each one gleamed like a stalk of gold after which he cut the
straws into lengths of about six inches leaving if he could a notch at the
bottom of each piece He always had a beautifully sharp knife that could cut a
straw clean without hurting it Then he set in the middle of the table a heap of
gunpowder a little pile of black grains upon the whitescrubbed board He made
and trimmed the straws while Paul and Annie filled and plugged them Paul loved
to see the black grains trickle down a crack in his palm into the mouth of the
straw peppering jollily downwards till the straw was full Then he bunged up
the mouth with a bit of soap which he got on his thumbnail from a pat in a
saucer and the straw was finished
»Look dad« he said
»Thats right my beauty« replied Morel who was peculiarly lavish of
endearments to his second son Paul popped the fuse into the powdertin ready
for the morning when Morel would take it to the pit and use it to fire a shot
that would blast the coal down
Meantime Arthur still fond of his father would lean on the arm of Morels
chair and say
»Tell us about down pit daddy«
This Morel loved to do
»Well theres one little oss we call im Taffy« he would begin »An
hes a fawce un«
Morel had a warm way of telling a story He made one feel Taffys cunning
»Hes a brown un« he would answer »an not very high Well he comes i
th stall wi a rattle an then yo ear im sneeze
Ello Taff you say what art sneezin for Bin taein some snuff
An e sneezes again Then he slives up an shoves is ead on yer that
cadin
Whats want Taff yo say«
»And what does he« Arthur always asked
»He wants a bit o bacca my duckie«
This story of Taffy would go on interminably and everybody loved it
Or sometimes it was a new tale
»An what dost think my darlin When I went to put my coat on at
snaptime what should go runnin up my arm but a mouse
Hey up theer I shouts
An I wor just in time ter get im by th tail«
»And did you kill it«
»I did for theyre a nuisance The place is fair snied wi em«
»An what do they live on«
»The corn as the osses drops an theyll get in your pocket an eat your
snap if youll let em no matter where yo hing your coat the slivin
nibblin little nuisances for they are«
These happy evenings could not take place unless Morel had some job to do
And then he always went to bed very early often before the children There was
nothing remaining for him to stay up for when he had finished tinkering and
had skimmed the headlines of the newspaper
And the children felt secure when their father was in bed They lay and
talked softly a while Then they started as the lights went suddenly sprawling
over the ceiling from the lamps that swung in the hands of the colliers tramping
by outside going to take the nine oclock shift They listened to the voices of
the men imagined them dipping down into the dark valley Sometimes they went to
the window and watched the three or four lamps growing tinier and tinier
swaying down the fields in the darkness Then it was a joy to rush back to bed
and cuddle closely in the warmth
Paul was rather a delicate boy subject to bronchitis The others were all
quite strong so this was another reason for his mothers difference in feeling
for him One day he came home at dinnertime feeling ill But it was not a
family to make any fuss
»Whats the matter with you« his mother asked sharply
»Nothing« he replied
But he ate no dinner
»If you eat no dinner youre not going to school« she said
»Why« he asked
»Thats why«
So after dinner he lay down on the sofa on the warm chintz cushions the
children loved Then he fell into a kind of doze That afternoon Mrs Morel was
ironing She listened to the small restless noise the boy made in his throat as
she worked Again rose in her heart the old almost weary feeling towards him
She had never expected him to live And yet he had a great vitality in his young
body Perhaps it would have been a little relief to her if he had died She
always felt a mixture of anguish in her love for him
He in his semiconscious sleep was vaguely aware of the clatter of the
iron on the ironstand of the faint thud thud on the ironingboard Once
roused he opened his eyes to see his mother standing on the hearthrug with the
hot iron near her cheek listening as it were to the heat Her still face
with the mouth closed tight from suffering and disillusion and selfdenial and
her nose the smallest bit on one side and her blue eyes so young quick and
warm made his heart contract with love When she was quiet so she looked
brave and rich with life but as if she had been done out of her rights It hurt
the boy keenly this feeling about her that she had never had her lifes
fulfilment and his own incapability to make up to her hurt him with a sense of
impotence yet made him patiently dogged inside It was his childish aim
She spat on the iron and a little ball of spit bounded raced off the dark
glossy surface Then kneeling she rubbed the iron on the sack lining of the
hearthrug vigorously She was warm in the ruddy firelight Paul loved the way
she crouched and put her head on one side Her movements were light and quick
It was always a pleasure to watch her Nothing she ever did no movement she
ever made could have been found fault with by her children The room was warm
and full of the scent of hot linen Later on the clergyman came and talked
softly with her
Paul was laid up with an attack of bronchitis He did not mind much What
happened happened and it was no good kicking against the pricks He loved the
evenings after eight oclock when the light was put out and he could watch
the fireflames spring over the darkness of the walls and ceiling could watch
huge shadows waving and tossing till the room seemed full of men who battled
silently
On retiring to bed the father would come into the sickroom He was always
very gentle if anyone were ill But he disturbed the atmosphere for the boy
»Are ter asleep my darlin« Morel asked softly
»No is my mother comin«
»Shes just finishin foldin the clothes Do you want anything« Morel
rarely theed his son
»I dont want nothing But how long will she be«
»Not long my duckie«
The father waited undecidedly on the hearthrug for a moment or two He felt
his son did not want him Then he went to the top of the stairs and said to his
wife
»This childts axin for thee how long art goin to be«
»Until Ive finished good gracious Tell him to go to sleep«
»She says youre to go to sleep« the father repeated gently to Paul
»Well I want her to come« insisted the boy
»He says he cant go off till you come« Morel called downstairs
»Eh dear I shant be long And do stop shouting downstairs Theres the
other children «
Then Morel came again and crouched before the bedroom fire He loved a fire
dearly
»She says she wont be long« he said
He loitered about indefinitely The boy began to get feverish with
irritation His fathers presence seemed to aggravate all his sick impatience
At last Morel after having stood looking at his son awhile said softly
»Goodnight my darling«
»Goodnight« Paul replied turning round in relief to be alone
Paul loved to sleep with his mother Sleep is still most perfect in spite
of hygienists when it is shared with a beloved The warmth the security and
peace of soul the utter comfort from the touch of the other knits the sleep
so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing Paul lay against
her and slept and got better whilst she always a bad sleeper fell later on
into a profound sleep that seemed to give her faith
In convalescence he would sit up in bed see the fluffy horses feeding at
the troughs in the field scattering their hay on the trodden yellow snow watch
the miners troop home small black figures trailing slowly in gangs across the
white field Then the night came up in dark blue vapour from the snow
In convalescence everything was wonderful The snowflakes suddenly arriving
on the windowpane clung there a moment like swallows then were gone and a
drop of water was crawling down the glass The snowflakes whirled round the
corner of the house like pigeons dashing by Away across the valley the little
black train crawled doubtfully over the great whiteness
While they were so poor the children were delighted if they could do
anything to help economically Annie and Paul and Arthur went out early in the
morning in summer looking for mushrooms hunting through the wet grass from
which the larks were rising for the whiteskinned wonderful naked bodies
crouched secretly in the green And if they got half a pound they felt
exceedingly happy there was the joy of finding something the joy of accepting
something straight from the hand of Nature, and the joy of contributing to the
family exchequer
But the most important harvest after gleaning for frumenty was the
blackberries Mrs Morel must buy fruit for puddings on the Saturdays also she
liked blackberries So Paul and Arthur scoured the coppices and woods and old
quarries so long as a blackberry was to be found every weekend going on their
search In that region of mining villages blackberries became a comparative
rarity But Paul hunted far and wide He loved being out in the country among
the bushes But he also could not bear to go home to his mother empty That he
felt would disappoint her and he would have died rather
»Good gracious« she would exclaim as the lads came in late and tired to
death and hungry »wherever have you been«
»Well« replied Paul »there wasnt any so we went over Misk Hills And
look here our mother«
She peeped into the basket
»Now those are fine ones« she exclaimed
»And theres over two pounds isnt there over two pounds«
She tried the basket
»Yes« she answered doubtfully
Then Paul fished out a little spray He always brought her one spray the
best he could find
»Pretty« she said in a curious tone of a woman accepting a lovetoken
The boy walked all day went miles and miles rather than own himself beaten
and come home to her emptyhanded She never realised this whilst he was young
She was a woman who waited for her children to grow up And William occupied her
chiefly
But when William went to Nottingham and was not so much at home the mother
made a companion of Paul The latter was unconsciously jealous of his brother
and William was jealous of him At the same time they were good friends
Mrs Morels intimacy with her second son was more subtle and fine perhaps
not so passionate as with her eldest It was the rule that Paul should fetch the
money on Friday afternoons The colliers of the five pits were paid on Fridays
but not individually All the earnings of each stall were put down to the chief
butty as contractor and he divided the wages again either in the publichouse
or in his own home So that the children could fetch the money school closed
early on Friday afternoons Each of the Morel children William then Annie
then Paul had fetched the money on Friday afternoons until they went
themselves to work Paul used to set off at halfpast three with a little
calico bag in his pocket Down all the paths women girls children and men
were seen trooping to the offices
These offices were quite handsome a new redbrick building almost like a
mansion standing in its own grounds at the end of Greenhill Lane The
waitingroom was the hall a long bare room paved with blue brick and having a
seat all round against the wall Here sat the colliers in their pitdirt They
had come up early The women and children usually loitered about on the red
gravel paths Paul always examined the grass border and the big grass bank
because in it grew tiny pansies and tiny forgetmenots There was a sound of
many voices The women had on their Sunday hats The girls chattered loudly
Little dogs ran here and there The green shrubs were silent all around
Then from inside came the cry Spinney Park Spinney Park All the folk for
Spinney Park trooped inside When it was time for Bretty to be paid Paul went
in among the crowd The payroom was quite small A counter went across
dividing it into half Behind the counter stood two men Mr Braithwaite and
his clerk Mr Winterbottom Mr Braithwaite was large somewhat of the stern
patriarch in appearance having a rather thin white beard He was usually
muffled in an enormous silk neckerchief and right up to the hot summer a huge
fire burned in the open grate No window was open Sometimes in winter the air
scorched the throats of the people coming in from the freshness Mr
Winterbottom was rather small and fat and very bald He made remarks that were
not witty whilst his chief launched forth patriarchal admonitions against the
colliers
The room was crowded with miners in their pitdirt men who had been home
and changed and women and one or two children and usually a dog Paul was
quite small so it was often his fate to be jammed behind the legs of the men
near the fire which scorched him He knew the order of the names they went
according to stall number
»Holliday« came the ringing voice of Mr Braithwaite Then Mrs Holliday
stepped silently forward was paid drew aside
»Bower John Bower«
A boy stepped to the counter Mr Braithwaite large and irascible glowered
at him over his spectacles
»John Bower« he repeated
»Its me« said the boy
»Why you used to ave a different nose than that« said glossy Mr
Winterbottom peering over the counter The people tittered thinking of John
Bower senior
»How is it your fathers not come« said Mr Braithwaite in a large and
magisterial voice
»Hes badly« piped the boy
»You should tell him to keep off the drink« pronounced the great cashier
»An niver mind if he puts his foot through yer« said a mocking voice from
behind
All the men laughed The large and important cashier looked down at his next
sheet
»Fred Pilkington« he called quite indifferent
Mr Braithwaite was an important shareholder in the firm
Paul knew his turn was next but one and his heart began to beat He was
pushed against the chimneypiece His calves were burning But he did not hope
to get through the wall of men
»Walter Morel« came the ringing voice
»Here« piped Paul small and inadequate
»Morel Walter Morel« the cashier repeated his finger and thumb on the
invoice ready to pass on
Paul was suffering convulsions of self-consciousness, and could not or would
not shout The backs of the men obliterated him Then Mr Winterbottom came to
the rescue
»Hes here Where is he Morels lad«
The fat red bald little man peered round with keen eyes He pointed at the
fireplace The colliers looked round moved aside and disclosed the boy
»Here he is« said Mr Winterbottom
Paul went to the counter
»Seventeen pounds eleven and fivepence Why dont you shout up when youre
called« said Mr Braithwaite He banged on to the invoice a fivepound bag of
silver then in a delicate and pretty movement picked up a little tenpound
column of gold and plumped it beside the silver The gold slid in a bright
stream over the paper The cashier finished counting off the money the boy
dragged the whole down the counter to Mr Winterbottom to whom the stoppages
for rent and tools must be paid Here he suffered again
»Sixteen an six« said Mr Winterbottom
The lad was too much upset to count He pushed forward some loose silver and
half a sovereign
»How much do you think youve given me« asked Mr Winterbottom
The boy looked at him but said nothing He had not the faintest notion
»Havent you got a tongue in your head«
Paul bit his lip and pushed forward some more silver
»Dont they teach you to count at the Boardschool« he asked
»Nowt but algibbra an French« said a collier
»An cheek an impidence« said another
Paul was keeping someone waiting With trembling fingers he got his money
into the bag and slid out He suffered the tortures of the damned on these
occasions
His relief when he got outside and was walking along the Mansfield Road
was infinite On the park wall the mosses were green There were some gold and
some white fowls pecking under the apple trees of an orchard The colliers were
walking home in a stream The boy went near the wall selfconsciously He knew
many of the men but could not recognise them in their dirt And this was a new
torture to him
When he got down to the New Inn at Bretty his father was not yet come
Mrs Wharmby the landlady knew him His grandmother Morels mother had been
Mrs Wharmbys friend
»Your fathers not come yet« said the landlady in the peculiar
halfscornful halfpatronising voice of a woman who talks chiefly to grown men
»Sit you down«
Paul sat down on the edge of the bench in the bar Some colliers were
reckoning sharing out their money in a corner others came in They all
glanced at the boy without speaking At last Morel came brisk and with
something of an air even in his blackness
»Hello« he said rather tenderly to his son »Have you bested me Shall you
have a drink of something«
Paul and all the children were bred up fierce antialcoholists and he would
have suffered more in drinking a lemonade before all the men than in having a
tooth drawn
The landlady looked at him de haut en bas rather pitying and at the same
time resenting his clear fierce morality Paul went home glowering He
entered the house silently Friday was baking day and there was usually a hot
bun His mother put it before him
Suddenly he turned on her in a fury his eyes flashing
»Im not going to the office any more« he said
»Why whats the matter« his mother asked in surprise His sudden rages
rather amused her
»Im not going any more« he declared
»Oh very well tell your father so«
He chewed his bun as if he hated it
»Im not Im not going to fetch the money«
»Then one of Carlins children can go theyd be glad enough of the
sixpence« said Mrs Morel
This sixpence was Pauls only income It mostly went in buying birthday
presents but it was an income and he treasured it But
»They can have it then« he said »I dont want it«
»Oh very well« said his mother »But you neednt bully me about it«
»Theyre hateful and common and hateful they are and Im not going any
more Mr Braithwaite drops his hs an Mr Winterbottom says You was«
»And is that why you wont go any more« smiled Mrs Morel
The boy was silent for some time His face was pale his eyes dark and
furious His mother moved about at her work taking no notice of him
»They always stan in front of me sos I cant get out« he said
»Well my lad youve only to ask them« she replied
»An then Alfred Winterbottom says What do they teach you at the
Boardschool«
»They never taught him much« said Mrs Morel »that is a fact neither
manners nor wit and his cunning he was born with«
So in her own way she soothed him His ridiculous hypersensitiveness made
her heart ache And sometimes the fury in his eyes roused her made her sleeping
soul lift up its head a moment surprised
»What was the cheque« she asked
»Seventeen pounds eleven and fivepence and sixteen and six stoppages«
replied the boy »Its a good week and only five shillings stoppages for my
father«
So she was able to calculate how much her husband had earned and could call
him to account if he gave her short money Morel always kept to himself the
secret of the weeks amount
Friday was the baking night and market night It was the rule that Paul
should stay at home and bake He loved to stop in and draw or read he was very
fond of drawing Annie always gallivanted on Friday nights Arthur was enjoying
himself as usual So the boy remained alone
Mrs Morel loved her marketing In the tiny marketplace on the top of the
hill where four roads from Nottingham and Derby Ilkeston and Mansfield meet
many stalls were erected Brakes ran in from surrounding villages The
marketplace was full of women the streets packed with men It was amazing to
see so many men everywhere in the streets Mrs Morel usually quarrelled with
her lace woman sympathised with her fruit man who was a gabey but his wife
was a bad un laughed with the fish man who was a scamp but so droll put
the linoleum man in his place was cold with the oddwares man and only went to
the crockery man when she was driven or drawn by the cornflowers on a little
dish then she was coldly polite
»I wondered how much that little dish was« she said
»Sevenpence to you«
»Thank you«
She put the dish down and walked away but she could not leave the
marketplace without it Again she went by where the pots lay coldly on the
floor and she glanced at the dish furtively pretending not to
She was a little woman in a bonnet and a black costume Her bonnet was in
its third year it was a great grievance to Annie
»Mother« the girl implored »dont wear that nubbly little bonnet«
»Then what else shall I wear« replied the mother tartly »And Im sure its
right enough«
It had started with a tip then had had flowers now was reduced to black
lace and a bit of jet
»It looks rather come down« said Paul »Couldnt you give it a pickmeup«
»Ill jowl your head for impudence« said Mrs Morel and she tied the
strings of the black bonnet valiantly under her chin
She glanced at the dish again Both she and her enemy the pot man had an
uncomfortable feeling as if there were something between them Suddenly he
shouted
»Do you want it for fivepence«
She started Her heart hardened but then she stooped and took up her dish
»Ill have it« she said
»Yerll do me the favour like« he said »Yerd better spit in it like yer
do when yave something give yer«
Mrs Morel paid him the fivepence in a cold manner
»I dont see you give it me« she said »You wouldnt let me have it for
fivepence if you didnt want to«
»In this flamin scrattlin place you may count yerself lucky if you can
give your things away« he growled
»Yes there are bad times and good« said Mrs Morel
But she had forgiven the pot man They were friends She dare now finger his
pots So she was happy
Paul was waiting for her He loved her homecoming She was always her best
so triumphant tired laden with parcels feeling rich in spirit He heard her
quick light step in the entry and looked up from his drawing
»Oh« she sighed smiling at him from the doorway
»My word you are loaded« he exclaimed putting down his brush
»I am« she gasped »That brazen Annie said shed meet me Such a weight«
She dropped her string bag and her packages on the table
»Is the bread done« she asked going to the oven
»The last one is soaking« he replied »You neednt look Ive not forgotten
it«
»Oh that pot man« she said closing the oven door »You know what a wretch
Ive said he was Well I dont think hes quite so bad«
»Dont you«
The boy was attentive to her She took off her little black bonnet
»No I think he cant make any money well its everybodys cry alike
nowadays and it makes him disagreeable«
»It would me« said Paul
»Well one cant wonder at it And he let me have how much do you think he
let me have this for«
She took the dish out of its rag of newspaper and stood looking on it with
joy
»Show me« said Paul
The two stood together gloating over the dish
»I love cornflowers on things« said Paul
»Yes and I thought of the teapot you bought me «
»One and three« said Paul
»Fivepence«
»Its not enough mother«
»No Do you know I fairly sneaked off with it But Id been extravagant I
couldnt afford any more And he neednt have let me have it if he hadnt wanted
to«
»No he neednt need he« said Paul and the two comforted each other from
the fear of having robbed the pot man
»We cn have stewed fruit in it« said Paul
»Or custard or a jelly« said his mother
»Or radishes and lettuce« said he
»Dont forget that bread« she said her voice bright with glee
Paul looked in the oven tapped the loaf on the base
»Its done« he said giving it to her
She tapped it also
»Yes« she replied going to unpack her bag »Oh and Im a wicked
extravagant woman I know I sll come to want«
He hopped to her side eagerly to see her latest extravagance She unfolded
another lump of newspaper and disclosed some roots of pansies and of crimson
daisies
»Four pennorth« she moaned
»How cheap« he cried
»Yes but I couldnt afford it this week of all weeks«
»But lovely« he cried
»Arent they« she exclaimed giving way to pure joy »Paul look at this
yellow one isnt it and a face just like an old man«
»Just« cried Paul stooping to sniff »And smells that nice But hes a bit
splashed«
He ran in the scullery came back with the flannel and carefully washed the
pansy
»Now look at him now hes wet« he said
»Yes« she exclaimed brimful of satisfaction
Tht children of Scargill Street felt quite select At the end where the
Morels lived there were not many young things So the few were more united Boys
and girls played together the girls joining in the fights and the rough games
the boys taking part in the dancing games and rings and makebelief of the
girls
Annie and Paul and Arthur loved the winter evenings when it was not wet
They stayed indoors till the colliers were all gone home till it was thick
dark and the street would be deserted Then they tied their scarves round their
necks for they scorned overcoats as all the colliers children did and went
out The entry was very dark and at the end the whole great night opened out
in a hollow with a little tangle of lights below where Minton pit lay and
another far away opposite for Selby The farthest tiny lights seemed to stretch
out the darkness for ever The children looked anxiously down the road at the
one lamppost which stood at the end of the field path If the little luminous
space were deserted the two boys felt genuine desolation They stood with their
hands in their pockets under the lamp turning their backs on the night quite
miserable watching the dark houses Suddenly a pinafore under a short coat was
seen and a longlegged girl came flying up
»Wheres Billy Pillins an your Annie an Eddie Dakin«
»I dont know«
But it did not matter so much there were three now They set up a game
round the lamppost till the others rushed up yelling Then the play went fast
and furious
There was only this one lamppost Behind was the great scoop of darkness
as if all the night were there In front another wide dark way opened over the
hill brow Occasionally somebody came out of this way and went into the field
down the path In a dozen yards the night had swallowed them The children
played on
They were brought exceedingly close together owing to their isolation If a
quarrel took place the whole play was spoilt Arthur was very touchy and Billy
Pillins really Philips was worse Then Paul had to side with Arthur and on
Pauls side went Alice while Billy Pillins always had Emmie Limb and Eddie
Dakin to back him up Then the six would fight hate with a fury of hatred and
flee home in terror Paul never forgot after one of these fierce internecine
fights seeing a big red moon lift itself up slowly between the waste road
over the hilltop steadily like a great bird And he thought of the Bible
that the moon should be turned to blood And the next day he made haste to be
friends with Billy Pillins And then the wild intense games went on again under
the lamppost surrounded by so much darkness Mrs Morel going into her
parlour would hear the children singing away
»My shoes are made of Spanish leather
My socks are made of silk
I wear a ring on every finger
I wash myself in milk«
They sounded so perfectly absorbed in the game as their voices came out of the
night that they had the feel of wild creatures singing It stirred the mother
and she understood when they came in at eight oclock ruddy with brilliant
eyes and quick passionate speech
They all loved the Scargill Street house for its openness for the great
scallop of the world it had in view On summer evenings the women would stand
against the field fence gossiping facing the west watching the sunsets flare
quickly out till the Derbyshire hills ridged across the crimson far away like
the black crest of a newt
In this summer season the pits never turned full time particularly the soft
coal Mrs Dakin who lived next door to Mrs Morel going to the field fence to
shake her hearthrug would spy men coming slowly up the hill She saw at once
they were colliers Then she waited a tall thin shrewfaced woman standing
on the hill brow almost like a menace to the poor colliers who were toiling up
It was only eleven oclock From the faroff wooded hills the haze that hangs
like fine black crape at the back of a summer morning had not yet dissipated
The first man came to the stile »Chockchock« went the gate under his thrust
»What han yer knocked off« cried Mrs Dakin
»We han missis«
»Its a pity as they letn yer goo« she said sarcastically
»It is that« replied the man
»Nay you know youre flig to come up again« she said
And the man went on Mrs Dakin going up her yard spied Mrs Morel taking
the ashes to the ashpit
»I reckon Mintons knocked off missis« she cried
»Isnt it sickenin« exclaimed Mrs Morel in wrath
»Ha But In just seed Jont Hutchby«
»They might as well have saved their shoeleather« said Mrs Morel And
both women went indoors disgusted
The colliers their faces scarcely blackened were trooping home again
Morel hated to go back He loved the sunny morning But he had gone to pit to
work and to be sent home again spoilt his temper
»Good gracious at this time« exclaimed his wife as he entered
»Can I help it woman« he shouted
»And Ive not done half enough dinner«
»Then Ill eat my bit o snap as I took with me« he bawled pathetically He
felt ignominious and sore
And the children coming home from school would wonder to see their father
eating with his dinner the two thick slices of rather dry and dirty
breadandbutter that had been to pit and back
»Whats my dad eating his snap for now« asked Arthur
»I should hae it holled at me if I didna« snorted Morel
»What a story« exclaimed his wife
»An is it goin to be wasted« said Morel »Im not such a extravagant
mortal as you lot with your waste If I drop a bit of bread at pit in all the
dust an dirt I pick it up an eat it«
»The mice would eat it« said Paul »It wouldnt be wasted«
»Good breadanbutters not for mice either« said Morel »Dirty or not
dirty Id eat it rather than it should be wasted«
»You might leave it for the mice and pay for it out of your next pint« said
Mrs Morel
»Oh might I« he exclaimed
They were very poor that autumn William had just gone away to London and
his mother missed his money He sent ten shillings once or twice but he had
many things to pay for at first His letters came regularly once a week He
wrote a good deal to his mother telling her all his life how he made friends
and was exchanging lessons with a Frenchman how he enjoyed London His mother
felt again he was remaining to her just as when he was at home She wrote to him
every week her direct rather witty letters All day long as she cleaned the
house she thought of him He was in London he would do well Almost he was
like her knight who wore her favour in the battle
He was coming at Christmas for five days There had never been such
preparations Paul and Arthur scoured the land for holly and evergreens Annie
made the pretty paper hoops in the oldfashioned way And there was unheardof
extravagance in the larder Mrs Morel made a big and magnificent cake Then
feeling queenly she showed Paul how to blanch almonds He skinned the long nuts
reverently counting them all to see not one was lost It was said that eggs
whisked better in a cold place So the boy stood in the scullery where the
temperature was nearly at freezingpoint and whisked and whisked and flew in
excitement to his mother as the white of egg grew stiffer and more snowy
»Just look mother Isnt it lovely«
And he balanced a bit on his nose then blew it in the air
»Now dont waste it« said the mother
Everybody was mad with excitement William was coming on Christmas Eve Mrs
Morel surveyed her pantry There was a big plum cake and a rice cake jam
tarts lemon tarts and mincepies two enormous dishes She was finishing
cooking Spanish tarts and cheesecakes Everywhere was decorated The kissing
bunch of berried holly hung with bright and glittering things spun slowly over
Mrs Morels head as she trimmed her little tarts in the kitchen A great fire
roared There was a scent of cooked pastry He was due at seven oclock but he
would be late The three children had gone to meet him She was alone But at a
quarter to seven Morel came in again Neither wife nor husband spoke He sat in
his armchair quite awkward with excitement and she quietly went on with her
baking Only by the careful way in which she did things could it be told how
much moved she was The clock ticked on
»What time dost say hes coming« Morel asked for the fifth time
»The train gets in at halfpast six« she replied emphatically
»Then hell be here at ten past seven«
»Eh bless you itll be hours late on the Midland« she said indifferently
But she hoped by expecting him late to bring him early Morel went down the
entry to look for him Then he came back
»Goodness man« she said »Youre like an illsitting hen«
»Hadna you better be gettin him summat t eat ready« asked the father
»Theres plenty of time« she answered
»Theres not so much as I can see on« he answered turning crossly in his
chair She began to clear her table The kettle was singing They waited and
waited
Meantime the three children were on the platform at Sethley Bridge on the
Midland main line two miles from home They waited one hour A train came he
was not there Down the line the red and green lights shone It was very dark
and very cold
»Ask him if the London trains come« said Paul to Annie when they saw a
man in a tip cap
»Im not« said Annie »You be quiet he might send us off«
But Paul was dying for the man to know they were expecting someone by the
London train it sounded so grand Yet he was much too much scared of broaching
any man let alone one in a peaked cap to dare to ask The three children could
scarcely go into the waitingroom for fear of being sent away and for fear
something should happen whilst they were off the platform Still they waited in
the dark and cold
»Its an hour an a half late« said Arthur pathetically
»Well« said Annie »its Christmas Eve«
They all grew silent He wasnt coming They looked down the darkness of the
railway There was London It seemed the uttermost of distance They thought
anything might happen if one came from London They were all too troubled to
talk Cold and unhappy and silent they huddled together on the platform
At last after more than two hours they saw the lights of an engine peering
round away down the darkness A porter ran out The children drew back with
beating hearts A great train bound for Manchester drew up Two doors opened
and from one of them William They flew to him He handed parcels to them
cheerily and immediately began to explain that this great train had stopped for
his sake at such a small station as Sethley Bridge it was not booked to stop
Meanwhile the parents were getting anxious The table was set the chop was
cooked everything was ready Mrs Morel put on her black apron She was wearing
her best dress Then she sat pretending to read The minutes were a torture to
her
»Hm« said Morel »Its an hour an a haef«
»And those children waiting« she said
»Th train canna ha come in yet« he said
»I tell you on Christmas Eve theyre hours wrong«
They were both a bit cross with each other so gnawed with anxiety The ash
tree moaned outside in a cold raw wind And all that space of night from London
home Mrs Morel suffered The slight click of the works inside the clock
irritated her It was getting so late it was getting unbearable
At last there was a sound of voices and a footstep in the entry
»Has here« cried Morel jumping up
Then he stood back The mother ran a few steps towards the door and waited
There was a rush and a patter of feet the door burst open William was there
He dropped his Gladstone bag and took his mother in his arms
»Mater« he said
»My boy« she cried
And for two seconds no longer she clasped him and kissed him Then she
withdrew and said trying to be quite normal
»But how late you are«
»Arent I« he cried turning to his father »Well dad«
The two men shook hands
»Well my lad«
Morels eyes were wet
»We thought thad niver be commin« he said
»Oh Id come« exclaimed William
Then the son turned round to his mother
»But you look well« she said proudly laughing
»Well« he exclaimed »I should think so coming home«
He was a fine fellow big straight and fearlesslooking He looked round
at the evergreens and the kissing bunch and the little tarts that lay in their
tins on the hearth
»By jove mother its not different« he said as if in relief
Everybody was still for a second Then he suddenly sprang forward picked a
tart from the hearth and pushed it whole into his mouth
»Well did iver you see such a parish oven« the father exclaimed
He had brought them endless presents Every penny he had he had spent on
them There was a sense of luxury overflowing in the house For his mother there
was an umbrella with gold on the pale handle She kept it to her dying day and
would have lost anything rather than that Everybody had something gorgeous and
besides there were pounds of unknown sweets Turkish delight crystallised
pineapple and suchlike things which the children thought only the splendour
of London could provide And Paul boasted of these sweets among his friends
»Real pineapple cut off in slices and then turned into crystal fair
grand«
Everybody was mad with happiness in the family Home was home and they
loved it with a passion of love whatever the suffering had been There were
parties there were rejoicings People came in to see William to see what
difference London had made to him And they all found him »such a gentleman and
such a fine fellow my word«
When he went away again the children retired to various places to weep
alone Morel went to bed in misery and Mrs Morel felt as if she were numbed by
some drug as if her feelings were paralysed She loved him passionately
He was in the office of a lawyer connected with a large shipping firm and
at the midsummer his chief offered him a trip in the Mediterranean on one of the
boats for quite a small cost Mrs Morel wrote »Go go my boy You may never
have a chance again and I should love to think of you cruising there in the
Mediterranean almost better than to have you at home« But William came home for
his fortnights holiday Not even the Mediterranean which pulled at all his
young mans desire to travel and at his poor mans wonder at the glamorous
south could take him away when he might come home That compensated his mother
for much
Chapter V
Paul Launches into Life
Morel was rather a heedless man careless of danger So he had endless
accidents Now when Mrs Morel heard the rattle of an empty coalcart cease at
her entryend she ran into the parlour to look expecting almost to see her
husband seated in the wagon his face grey under his dirt his body limp and
sick with some hurt or other If it were he she would run out to help
About a year after William went to London and just after Paul had left
school before he got work Mrs Morel was upstairs and her son was painting in
the kitchen he was very clever with his brush when there came a knock at the
door Crossly he put down his brush to go At the same moment his mother opened
a window upstairs and looked down
A pitlad in his dirt stood on the threshold
»Is this Walter Morels« he asked
»Yes« said Mrs Morel »What is it«
But she had guessed already
»Your mesters got hurt« he said
»Eh dear me« she exclaimed »Its a wonder if he hadnt lad And whats
he done this time«
»I dont know for sure but its is leg somewhere They taein im ter th
ospital«
»Good gracious me« she exclaimed »Eh dear what a one he is Theres not
five minutes of peace Ill be hanged if there is His thumbs nearly better
and now Did you see him«
»I seed him at th bottom An I seed em bring im up in a tub an e wor
in a dead faint But he shouted like anythink when Doctor Fraser examined him i
th lamp cabin an cossed an swore an said as e wor goin to be taen
whoam e wornt goin ter th ospital«
The boy faltered to an end
»He would want to come home so that I can have all the bother Thank you
my lad Eh dear if Im not sick sick and surfeited I am«
She came downstairs Paul had mechanically resumed his painting
»And it must be pretty bad if theyve taken him to the hospital« she went
on »But what a careless creature he is Other men dont have all these
accidents Yes he would want to put all the burden on me Eh dear just as we
were getting easy a bit at last Put those things away theres no time to be
painting now What time is there a train I know I sll have to go trailing to
Keston I sll have to leave that bedroom«
»I can finish it« said Paul
»You neednt I shall catch the seven oclock back I should think Oh my
blessed heart the fuss and commotion hell make And those granite setts at
Tinder Hill he might well call them kidney pebbles theyll jolt him almost
to bits I wonder why they cant mend them the state theyre in an all the
men as go across in that ambulance Youd think theyd have a hospital here The
men bought the ground and my sirs thered be accidents enough to keep it
going But no they must trail them ten miles in a slow ambulance to Nottingham
Its a crying shame Oh and the fuss hell make I know he will I wonder whos
with him Barker I sd think Poor beggar hell wish himself anywhere rather
But hell look after him I know Now theres no telling how long hell be stuck
in that hospital and wont he hate it But if its only his leg its not so
bad«
All the time she was getting ready Hurriedly taking off her bodice she
crouched at the boiler while the water ran slowly into her ladingcan
»I wish this boiler was at the bottom of the sea« she exclaimed wriggling
the handle impatiently She had very handsome strong arms rather surprising on
a smallish woman
Paul cleared away put on the kettle and set the table
»There isnt a train till fourtwenty« he said »Youve time enough«
»Oh no I havent« she cried blinking at him over the towel as she wiped
her face
»Yes you have You must drink a cup of tea at any rate Should I come with
you to Keston«
»Come with me What for I should like to know Now what have I to take
him Eh dear His clean shirt and its a blessing it is clean But it had
better be aired And stockings he wont want them and a towel I suppose
and handkerchiefs Now what else«
»A comb a knife and fork and spoon« said Paul His father had been in the
hospital before
»Goodness knows what sort of state his feet were in« continued Mrs Morel
as she combed her long brown hair that was fine as silk and was touched now
with grey »Hes very particular to wash himself to the waist but below he
thinks doesnt matter But there I suppose they see plenty like it«
Paul had laid the table He cut his mother one or two pieces of very thin
bread and butter
»Here you are« he said putting her cup of tea in her place
»I cant be bothered« she exclaimed crossly
»Well youve got to so there now its put out ready« he insisted
So she sat down and sipped her tea and ate a little in silence She was
thinking
In a few minutes she was gone to walk the two and a half miles to Keston
Station All the things she was taking him she had in her bulging string bag
Paul watched her go up the road between the hedges a little quickstepping
figure and his heart ached for her that she was thrust forward again into pain
and trouble And she tripping so quickly in her anxiety felt at the back of
her her sons heart waiting on her felt him bearing what part of the burden he
could even supporting her And when she was at the hospital she thought »It
will upset that lad when I tell him how bad it is Id better be careful« And
when she was trudging home again she felt he was coming to share her burden
»Is it bad« asked Paul as soon as she entered the house
»Its bad enough« she replied
»What«
She sighed and sat down undoing her bonnetstrings Her son watched her
face as it was lifted and her small workhardened hands fingering at the bow
under her chin
»Well« she answered »its not really dangerous but the nurse says its a
dreadful smash You see a great piece of rock fell on his leg here and its
a compound fracture There are pieces of bone sticking through «
»Ugh how horrid« exclaimed the children
»And« she continued »of course he says hes going to die it wouldnt be
him if he didnt Im done for my lass he said looking at me Dont be so
silly I said to him Youre not going to die of a broken leg however badly
its smashed I sll niver come out of ere but in a wooden box he groaned
Well I said if you want them to carry you into the garden in a wooden box
when youre better Ive no doubt they will If we think its good for him said
the Sister Shes an awfully nice Sister but rather strict«
Mrs Morel took off her bonnet The children waited in silence
»Of course he is bad« she continued »and he will be Its a great shock
and hes lost a lot of blood and of course it is a very dangerous smash Its
not at all sure that it will mend so easily And then theres the fever and the
mortification if it took bad ways hed quickly be gone But there hes a
cleanblooded man with wonderful healing flesh and so I see no reason why it
should take bad ways Of course theres a wound «
She was pale now with emotion and anxiety The three children realised that
it was very bad for their father and the house was silent anxious
»But he always gets better« said Paul after a while
»Thats what I tell him« said the mother
Everybody moved about in silence
»And he really looked nearly done for« she said »But the Sister says that
is the pain«
Annie took away her mothers coat and bonnet
»And he looked at me when I came away I said I sll have to go now
Walter because of the train and the children And he looked at me It seems
hard«
Paul took up his brush again and went on painting Arthur went outside for
some coal Annie sat looking dismal And Mrs Morel in her little rockingchair
that her husband had made for her when the first baby was coming remained
motionless brooding She was grieved and bitterly sorry for the man who was
hurt so much But still in her heart of hearts where the love should have
burned there was a blank Now when all her womans pity was roused to its full
extent when she would have slaved herself to death to nurse him and to save
him when she would have taken the pain herself if she could somewhere far
away inside her she felt indifferent to him and to his suffering It hurt her
most of all this failure to love him even when he roused her strong emotions
She brooded a while
»And there« she said suddenly »when Id got half to Keston I found Id
come out in my working boots and look at them« They were an old pair of
Pauls brown and rubbed through at the toes »I didnt know what to do with
myself for shame« she added
In the morning when Annie and Arthur were at school Mrs Morel talked
again to her son who was helping her with her housework
»I found Barker at the hospital He did look bad poor little fellow Well
I said to him what sort of a journey did you have with him Dunna ax me
missis he said Ay I said I know what hed be But it wor bad for him Mrs
Morel it wor that he said I know I said At ivry jolt I thought my eart
would ha flown clean out o my mouth he said An the scream e gives
sometimes Missis not for a fortune would I go through wi it again I can
quite understand it I said Its a nasty job though he said an one asll be
a long while afore its right again Im afraid it will I said I like Mr
Barker I do like him Theres something so manly about him«
Paul resumed his task silently
»And of course« Mrs Morel continued »for a man like your father the
hospital is hard He cant understand rules and regulations And he wont let
anybody else touch him not if he can help it When he smashed the muscles of
his thigh and it had to be dressed four times a day would he let anybody but
me or his mother do it He wouldnt So of course hell suffer in there with
the nurses And I didnt like leaving him Im sure when I kissed him an came
away it seemed a shame«
So she talked to her son almost as if she were thinking aloud to him and
he took it in as best he could by sharing her trouble to lighten it And in the
end she shared almost everything with him without knowing
Morel had a very bad time For a week he was in a critical condition Then
he began to mend And then knowing he was going to get better the whole family
sighed with relief and proceeded to live happily
They were not badly off whilst Morel was in the hospital There were
fourteen shillings a week from the pit ten shillings from the sick club and
five shillings from the Disability Fund and then every week the butties had
something for Mrs Morel five or seven shillings so that she was quite well
to do And whilst Morel was progressing favourably in the hospital the family
was extraordinarily happy and peaceful On Saturdays and Wednesdays Mrs Morel
went to Nottingham to see her husband Then she always brought back some little
thing a small tube of paints for Paul or some thick paper a couple of
postcards for Annie that the whole family rejoiced over for days before the
girl was allowed to send them away or a fretsaw for Arthur or a bit of pretty
wood She described her adventures into the big shops with joy Soon the folk in
the pictureshop knew her and knew about Paul The girl in the bookshop took a
keen interest in her Mrs Morel was full of information when she got home from
Nottingham The three sat round till bedtime listening putting in arguing
Then Paul often raked the fire
»Im the man in the house now« he used to say to his mother with joy They
learned how perfectly peaceful the home could be And they almost regretted
though none of them would have owned to such callousness that their father was
soon coming back
Paul was now fourteen and was looking for work He was a rather small and
rather finelymade boy with dark brown hair and light blue eyes His face had
already lost its youthful chubbiness and was becoming somewhat like Williams
roughfeatured almost rugged and it was extraordinarily mobile Usually he
looked as if he saw things was full of life and warm then his smile like his
mothers came suddenly and was very lovable and then when there was any clog
in his souls quick running his face went stupid and ugly He was the sort of
boy that becomes a clown and a lout as soon as he is not understood or feels
himself held cheap and again is adorable at the first touch of warmth
He suffered very much from the first contact with anything When he was
seven the starting school had been a nightmare and a torture to him But
afterwards he liked it And now that he felt he had to go out into life he went
through agonies of shrinking selfconsciousness He was quite a clever painter
for a boy of his years and he knew some French and German and mathematics that
Mr Heaton had taught him But nothing he had was of any commercial value He
was not strong enough for heavy manual work his mother said He did not care
for making things with his hands preferred racing about or making excursions
into the country or reading or painting
»What do you want to be« his mother asked
»Anything«
»That is no answer« said Mrs Morel
But it was quite truthfully the only answer he could give His ambition as
far as this worlds gear went was quietly to earn his thirty or thirtyfive
shillings a week somewhere near home and then when his father died have a
cottage with his mother paint and go out as he liked and live happy ever
after That was his programme as far as doing things went But he was proud
within himself measuring people against himself and placing them inexorably
And he thought that perhaps he might also make a painter the real thing But
that he left alone
»Then« said his mother »you must look in the paper for the
advertisements«
He looked at her It seemed to him a bitter humiliation and an anguish to go
through But he said nothing When he got up in the morning his whole being was
knotted up over this one thought
»Ive got to go and look for advertisements for a job«
It stood in front of the morning that thought killing all joy and even
life for him His heart felt like a tight knot
And then at ten oclock he set off He was supposed to be a queer quiet
child Going up the sunny street of the little town he felt as if all the folk
he met said to themselves »Hes going to the Coop readingroom to look in the
papers for a place He cant get a job I suppose hes living on his mother«
Then he crept up the stone stairs behind the drapery shop at the Coop and
peeped in the readingroom Usually one or two men were there either old
useless fellows or colliers on the club So he entered full of shrinking and
suffering when they looked up seated himself at the table and pretended to
scan the news He knew they would think »What does a lad of thirteen want in a
readingroom with a newspaper« and he suffered
Then he looked wistfully out of the window Already he was a prisoner of
industrialism Large sunflowers stared over the old red wall of the garden
opposite looking in their jolly way down on the women who were hurrying with
something for dinner The valley was full of corn brightening in the sun Two
collieries among the fields waved their small white plumes of steam Far off
on the hills were the woods of Annesley dark and fascinating Already his heart
went down He was being taken into bondage His freedom in the beloved home
valley was going now
The brewers waggons came rolling up from Keston with enormous barrels four
a side like beans in a burst beanpod The waggoner throned aloft rolling
massively in his seat was not so much below Pauls eye The mans hair on his
small bullet head was bleached almost white by the sun and on his thick red
arms rocking idly on his sack apron the white hairs glistened His red face
shone and was almost asleep with sunshine The horses handsome and brown went
on by themselves looking by far the masters of the show
Paul wished he were stupid »I wish« he thought to himself »I was fat like
him and like a dog in the sun I wish I was a pig and a brewers waggoner«
Then the room being at last empty he would hastily copy an advertisement
on a scrap of paper then another and slip out in immense relief His mother
would scan over his copies
»Yes« she said »you may try«
William had written out a letter of application couched in admirable
business language which Paul copied with variations The boys handwriting was
execrable so that William who did all things well got into a fever of
impatience
The elder brother was becoming quite swanky In London he found that he
could associate with men far above his Bestwood friends in station Some of the
clerks in the office had studied for the law and were more or less going
through a kind of apprenticeship William always made friends among men wherever
he went he was so jolly Therefore he was soon visiting and staying in houses
of men who in Bestwood would have looked down on the unapproachable bank
manager and would merely have called indifferently on the Rector So he began
to fancy himself as a great gun He was indeed rather surprised at the ease
with which he became a gentleman
His mother was glad he seemed so pleased And his lodging in Walthamstow
was so dreary But now there seemed to come a kind of fever into the young mans
letters He was unsettled by all the change he did not stand firm on his own
feet but seemed to spin rather giddily on the quick current of the new life
His mother was anxious for him She could feel him losing himself He had danced
and gone to the theatre boated on the river been out with friends and she
knew he sat up afterwards in his cold bedroom grinding away at Latin because he
intended to get on in his office and in the law as much as he could He never
sent his mother any money now It was all taken the little he had for his own
life And she did not want any except sometimes when she was in a tight
corner and when ten shillings would have saved her much worry She still
dreamed of William and of what he would do with herself behind him Never for
a minute would she admit to herself how heavy and anxious her heart was because
of him
Also he talked a good deal now of a girl he had met at a dance a handsome
brunette quite young and a lady after whom the men were running thick and
fast
»I wonder if you would run my boy« his mother wrote to him »unless you
saw all the other men chasing her too You feel safe enough and vain enough in a
crowd But take care and see how you feel when you find yourself alone and in
triumph«
William resented these things and continued the chase He had taken the
girl on the river »If you saw her mother you would know how I feel Tall and
elegant with the clearest of clear transparent olive complexions hair as
black as jet and such grey eyes bright mocking like lights on water at
night It is all very well to be a bit satirical till you see her And she
dresses as well as any woman in London I tell you your son doesnt half put
his head up when she goes walking down Piccadilly with him«
Mrs Morel wondered in her heart if her son did not go walking down
Piccadilly with an elegant figure and fine clothes rather than with a woman who
was near to him But she congratulated him in her doubtful fashion And as she
stood over the washingtub the mother brooded over her son She saw him saddled
with an elegant and expensive wife earning little money dragging along and
getting draggled in some small ugly house in a suburb »But there« she told
herself »I am very likely a silly meeting trouble halfway« Nevertheless
the load of anxiety scarcely ever left her heart lest William should do the
wrong thing by himself
Presently Paul was bidden call upon Thomas Jordan Manufacturer of Surgical
Appliances at 21 Spaniel Row Nottingham Mrs Morel was all joy
»There you see« she cried her eyes shining »Youve only written four
letters and the third is answered Youre lucky my boy as I always said you
were«
Paul looked at the picture of a wooden leg adorned with elastic stockings
and other appliances that figured on Mr Jordans notepaper and he felt
alarmed He had not known that elastic stockings existed And he seemed to feel
the business world with its regulated system of values and its impersonality
and he dreaded it It seemed monstrous also that a business could be run on
wooden legs
Mother and son set off together one Tuesday morning It was August and
blazing hot Paul walked with something screwed up tight inside him He would
have suffered much physical pain rather than this unreasonable suffering at
being exposed to strangers to be accepted or rejected Yet he chattered away
with his mother He would never have confessed to her how he suffered over these
things and she only partly guessed She was gay like a sweetheart She stood
in front of the ticketoffice at Bestwood and Paul watched her take from her
purse the money for the tickets As he saw her hands in their old black kid
gloves getting the silver out of the worn purse his heart contracted with pain
of love of her
She was quite excited and quite gay He suffered because she would talk
aloud in presence of the other travellers
»Now look at that silly cow« she said »careering round as if it thought it
was a circus«
»Its most likely a bottfly« he said very low
»A what« she asked brightly and unashamed
They thought a while He was sensible all the time of having her opposite
him Suddenly their eyes met and she smiled to him a rare intimate smile
beautiful with brightness and love Then each looked out of the window
The sixteen slow miles of railway journey passed The mother and son walked
down Station Street feeling the excitement of lovers having an adventure
together In Carrington Street they stopped to hang over the parapet and look at
the barges on the canal below
»Its just like Venice« he said seeing the sunshine on the water that lay
between high factory walls
»Perhaps« she answered smiling
They enjoyed the shops immensely
»Now you see that blouse« she would say »wouldnt that just suit our
Annie And for oneandeleventhree Isnt that cheap«
»And made of needlework as well« he said
»Yes«
They had plenty of time so they did not hurry The town was strange and
delightful to them But the boy was tied up inside in a knot of apprehension He
dreaded the interview with Thomas Jordan
It was nearly eleven oclock by St Peters Church They turned up a narrow
street that led to the Castle It was gloomy and oldfashioned having low dark
shops and dark green house doors with brass knockers and yellowochred
doorsteps projecting on to the pavement then another old shop whose small
window looked like a cunning halfshut eye Mother and son went cautiously
looking everywhere for »Thomas Jordan and Son« It was like hunting in some wild
place They were on tiptoe of excitement
Suddenly they spied a big dark archway in which were names of various
firms Thomas Jordan among them
»Here it is« said Mrs Morel »But now where is it«
They looked round On one side was a queer dark cardboard factory on the
other a Commercial Hotel
»Its up the entry« said Paul
And they ventured under the archway as into the jaws of the dragon They
emerged into a wide yard like a well with buildings all round It was littered
with straw and boxes and cardboard The sunshine actually caught one crate
whose straw was streaming on to the yard like gold But elsewhere the place was
like a pit There were several doors and two flights of steps Straight in
front on a dirty glass door at the top of a staircase loomed the ominous words
»Thomas Jordan and Son Surgical Appliances« Mrs Morel went first her son
followed her Charles I mounted his scaffold with a lighter heart than had Paul
Morel as he followed his mother up the dirty steps to the dirty door
She pushed open the door and stood in pleased surprise In front of her was
a big warehouse with creamy paper parcels everywhere and clerks with their
shirtsleeves rolled back were going about in an athome sort of way The light
was subdued the glossy cream parcels seemed luminous the counters were of dark
brown wood All was quiet and very homely Mrs Morel took two steps forward
then waited Paul stood behind her She had on her Sunday bonnet and a black
veil he wore a boys broad white collar and a Norfolk suit
One of the clerks looked up He was thin and tall with a small face His
way of looking was alert Then he glanced round to the other end of the room
where was a glass office And then he came forward He did not say anything but
leaned in a gentle inquiring fashion towards Mrs Morel
»Can I see Mr Jordan« she asked
»Ill fetch him« answered the young man
He went down to the glass office A redfaced whitewhiskered old man
looked up He reminded Paul of a pomeranian dog Then the same little man came
up the room He had short legs was rather stout and wore an alpaca jacket So
with one ear up as it were he came stoutly and inquiringly down the room
»Goodmorning« he said hesitating before Mrs Morel in doubt as to
whether she were a customer or not
»Goodmorning I came with my son Paul Morel You asked him to call this
morning«
»Come this way« said Mr Jordan in a rather snappy little manner intended
to be businesslike
They followed the manufacturer into a grubby little room upholstered in
black American leather glossy with the rubbing of many customers On the table
was a pile of trusses yellow washleather hoops tangled together They looked
new and living Paul sniffed the odour of new washleather He wondered what the
things were By this time he was so much stunned that he only noticed the
outside things
»Sit down« said Mr Jordan irritably pointing Mrs Morel to a horsehair
chair She sat on the edge in an uncertain fashion Then the little old man
fidgeted and found a paper
»Did you write this letter« he snapped thrusting what Paul recognised as
his own notepaper in front of him
»Yes« he answered
At that moment he was occupied in two ways first in feeling guilty for
telling a lie since William had composed the letter second in wondering why
his letter seemed so strange and different in the fat red hand of the man
from what it had been when it lay on the kitchen table It was like part of
himself gone astray He resented the way the man held it
»Where did you learn to write« said the old man crossly
Paul merely looked at him shamedly and did not answer
»He is a bad writer« put in Mrs Morel apologetically Then she pushed up
her veil Paul hated her for not being prouder with this common little man and
he loved her face clear of the veil
»And you say you know French« inquired the little man still sharply
»Yes« said Paul
»What school did you go to«
»The Boardschool«
»And did you learn it there«
»No I « The boy went crimson and got no farther
»His godfather gave him lessons« said Mrs Morel half pleading and rather
distant
Mr Jordan hesitated Then in his irritable manner he always seemed to
keep his hands ready for action he pulled another sheet of paper from his
pocket unfolded it The paper made a crackling noise He handed it to Paul
»Read that« he said
It was a note in French in thin flimsy foreign handwriting that the boy
could not decipher He stared blankly at the paper
»Monsieur« he began then he looked in great confusion at Mr Jordan »Its
the its the «
He wanted to say handwriting but his wits would no longer work even
sufficiently to supply him with the word Feeling an utter fool and hating Mr
Jordan he turned desperately to the paper again
»Sir Please send me er er I cant tell the er two pairs gris
fil bas grey thread stockings er er sans without er I cant tell
the words er doigts fingers er I cant tell the «
He wanted to say handwriting but the word still refused to come Seeing him
stuck Mr Jordan snatched the paper from him
»Please send by return two pairs grey thread stockings without toes«
»Well« flashed Paul »doigts means fingers as well as a rule «
The little man looked at him He did not know whether doigts meant fingers
he knew that for all his purposes it meant toes
»Fingers to stockings« he snapped
»Well it does mean fingers« the boy persisted
He hated the little man who made such a clod of him Mr Jordan looked at
the pale stupid defiant boy then at the mother who sat quiet and with that
peculiar shutoff look of the poor who have to depend on the favour of others
»And when could he come« he asked
»Well« said Mrs Morel »as soon as you wish He has finished school now«
»He would live in Bestwood«
»Yes but he could be in at the station at quarter to eight«
»Hm«
It ended by Pauls being engaged as junior spiral clerk at eight shillings a
week The boy did not open his mouth to say another word after having insisted
that doigts meant fingers He followed his mother down the stairs She looked at
him with her bright blue eyes full of love and joy
»I think youll like it« she said
»Doigts does mean fingers mother and it was the writing I couldnt read
the writing«
»Never mind my boy Im sure hell be all right and you wont see much of
him Wasnt that first young fellow nice Im sure youll like them«
»But wasnt Mr Jordan common mother Does he own it all«
»I suppose he was a workman who has got on« she said »You mustnt mind
people so much Theyre not being disagreeable to you its their way You
always think people are meaning things for you But they dont«
It was very sunny Over the big desolate space of the marketplace the blue
sky shimmered and the granite cobbles of the paving glistened Shops down the
Long Row were deep in obscurity and the shadow was full of colour Just where
the horse trams trundled across the market was a row of fruit stalls with fruit
blazing in the sun apples and piles of reddish oranges small greengage plums
and bananas There was a warm scent of fruit as mother and son passed Gradually
his feeling of ignominy and of rage sank
»Where should we go for dinner« asked the mother
It was felt to be a reckless extravagance Paul had only been in an
eatinghouse once or twice in his life and then only to have a cup of tea and a
bun Most of the people of Bestwood considered that tea and breadandbutter
and perhaps potted beef was all they could afford to eat in Nottingham Real
cooked dinner was considered great extravagance Paul felt rather guilty
They found a place that looked quite cheap But when Mrs Morel scanned the
bill of fare her heart was heavy things were so dear So she ordered
kidneypies and potatoes as the cheapest available dish
»We oughtnt to have come here mother« said Paul
»Never mind« she said »We wont come again«
She insisted on his having a small currant tart because he liked sweets
»I dont want it mother« he pleaded
»Yes« she insisted »youll have it«
And she looked round for the waitress But the waitress was busy and Mrs
Morel did not like to bother her then So the mother and son waited for the
girls pleasure whilst she flirted among the men
»Brazen hussy« said Mrs Morel to Paul »Look now shes taking that man
his pudding and he came long after us«
»It doesnt matter mother« said Paul
Mrs Morel was angry But she was too poor and her orders were too meagre
so that she had not the courage to insist on her rights just then They waited
and waited
»Should we go mother« he said
Then Mrs Morel stood up The girl was passing near
»Will you bring one currant tart« said Mrs Morel clearly
The girl looked round insolently
»Directly« she said
»We have waited quite long enough« said Mrs Morel
In a moment the girl came back with the tart Mrs Morel asked coldly for
the bill Paul wanted to sink through the floor He marvelled at his mothers
hardness He knew that only years of battling had taught her to insist even so
little on her rights She shrank as much as he
»Its the last time I go there for anything« she declared when they were
outside the place thankful to be clear
»Well go« she said »and look at Keeps and Boots and one or two places
shall we«
They had discussions over the pictures and Mrs Morel wanted to buy him a
little sable brush that he hankered after But this indulgence he refused He
stood in front of milliners shops and drapers shops almost bored but content
for her to be interested They wandered on
»Now just look at those black grapes« she said »They make your mouth
water Ive wanted some of those for years but I sll have to wait a bit before
I get them«
Then she rejoiced in the florists standing in the doorway sniffing
»Oh oh Isnt it simply lovely«
Paul saw in the darkness of the shop an elegant young lady in black
peering over the counter curiously
»Theyre looking at you« he said trying to draw his mother away
»But what is it« she exclaimed refusing to be moved
»Stocks« he answered sniffing hastily »Look theres a tubful«
»So there is red and white But really I never knew stocks to smell like
it« And to his great relief she moved out of the doorway but only to stand
in front of the window
»Paul« she cried to him who was trying to get out of sight of the elegant
young lady in black the shopgirl »Paul Just look here«
He came reluctantly back
»Now just look at that fuchsia« she exclaimed pointing
»Hm« He made a curious interested sound »Youd think every second as the
flowers was going to fall off they hang so big an heavy«
»And such an abundance« she cried
»And the way they drop downwards with their threads and knots«
»Yes« she exclaimed »Lovely«
»I wonder wholl buy it« he said
»I wonder« she answered »Not us«
»It would die in our parlour«
»Yes beastly cold sunless hole it kills every bit of a plant you put in
and the kitchen chokes them to death«
They bought a few things and set off towards the station Looking up the
canal through the dark pass of the buildings they saw the Castle on its bluff
of brown greenbushed rock in a positive miracle of delicate sunshine
»Wont it be nice for me to come out at dinnertimes« said Paul »I can go
all round here and see everything I sll love it«
»You will« assented his mother
He had spent a perfect afternoon with his mother They arrived home in the
mellow evening happy and glowing and tired
In the morning he filled in the form for his seasonticket and took it to
the station When he got back his mother was just beginning to wash the floor
He sat crouched up on the sofa
»He says itll be here on Saturday« he said
»And how much will it be«
»About one pound eleven« he said
She went on washing her floor in silence
»Is it a lot« he asked
»Its no more than I thought« she answered
»An I sll earn eight shillings a week« he said
She did not answer but went on with her work At last she said
»That William promised me when he went to London as hed give me a pound a
month He has given me ten shillings twice and now I know he hasnt a
farthing if I asked him Not that I want it Only just now youd think he might
be able to help with this ticket which Id never expected«
»He earns a lot« said Paul
»He earns a hundred and thirty pounds But theyre all alike Theyre large
in promises but its precious little fulfilment you get«
»He spends over fifty shillings a week on himself« said Paul
»And I keep this house on less than thirty« she replied »and am supposed
to find money for extras But they dont care about helping you once theyve
gone Hed rather spend it on that dressedup creature«
»She should have her own money if shes so grand« said Paul
»She should but she hasnt I asked him And I know he doesnt buy her a
gold bangle for nothing I wonder whoever bought me a gold bangle«
William was succeeding with his Gipsy as he called her He asked the girl
her name was Louisa Lily Denys Western for a photograph to send to his mother
The photo came a handsome brunette taken in profile smirking slightly and
it might be quite naked for on the photograph not a scrap of clothing was to
be seen only a naked bust
»Yes« wrote Mrs Morel to her son »the photograph of Louie is very
striking and I can see she must be attractive But do you think my boy it was
very good taste of a girl to give her young man that photo to send to his mother
the first Certainly the shoulders are beautiful as you say But I hardly
expected to see so much of them at the first view«
Morel found the photograph standing on the chiffonier in the parlour He
came out with it between his thick thumb and finger
»Who dost reckon this is« he asked of his wife
»Its the girl our William is going with« replied Mrs Morel
»Hm Ers a bright spark from th look on er an one as wunna do him
owermuch good neither Who is she«
»Her name is Louisa Lily Denys Western«
»An come again tomorrer« exclaimed the miner »An is er an actress«
»She is not Shes supposed to be a lady«
»Ill bet« he exclaimed still staring at the photo »A lady is she An
how much does she reckon ter keep up this sort o game on«
»On nothing She lives with an old aunt whom she hates and takes what bit
of moneys given her«
»Hm« said Morel laying down the photograph »Then hes a fool to ha
taen up wi such a one as that«
»Dear Mater« William replied »Im sorry you didnt like the photograph It
never occurred to me when I sent it that you mightnt think it decent However
I told Gyp that it didnt quite suit your prim and proper notions so shes
going to send you another that I hope will please you better Shes always
being photographed in fact the photographers ask her if they may take her for
nothing«
Presently the new photograph came with a little silly note from the girl
This time the young lady was seen in a black satin evening bodice cut square
with little puff sleeves and black lace hanging down her beautiful arms
»I wonder if she ever wears anything except evening clothes« said Mrs
Morel sarcastically »Im sure I ought to be impressed«
»You are disagreeable mother« said Paul »I think the first one with bare
shoulders is lovely«
»Do you« answered his mother »Well I dont«
On the Monday morning the boy got up at six to start work He had the
seasonticket which had cost such bitterness in his waistcoat pocket He loved
it with its bars of yellow across His mother packed his dinner in a small
shutup basket and he set off at a quarter to seven to catch the 715 train
Mrs Morel came to the entryend to see him off
It was a perfect morning From the ash tree the slender green fruits that
the children call pigeons were twinkling gaily down on a little breeze into the
front gardens of the houses The valley was full of a lustrous dark haze
through which the ripe corn shimmered and in which the steam from Minton pit
melted swiftly Puffs of wind came Paul looked over the high woods of
Aldersley where the country gleamed and home had never pulled at him so
powerfully
»Goodmorning mother« he said smiling but feeling very unhappy
»Goodmorning« she replied cheerfully and tenderly
She stood in her white apron on the open road watching him as he crossed
the field He had a small compact body that looked full of life She felt as
she saw him trudging over the field that where he determined to go he would
get She thought of William He would have leaped the fence instead of going
round the stile He was away in London doing well Paul would be working in
Nottingham Now she had two sons in the world She could think of two places
great centres of industry and feel that she had put a man into each of them
that these men would work out what she wanted they were derived from her they
were of her and their works also would be hers All the morning long she
thought of Paul
At eight oclock he climbed the dismal stairs of Jordans Surgical Appliance
Factory and stood helplessly against the first great parcelrack waiting for
somebody to pick him up The place was still not awake Over the counters were
great dust sheets Two men only had arrived and were heard talking in a corner
as they took off their coats and rolled up their shirtsleeves It was ten past
eight Evidently there was no rush of punctuality Paul listened to the voices
of the two clerks Then he heard someone cough and saw in the office at the end
of the room an old decaying clerk in a round smokingcap of black velvet
embroidered with red and green opening letters He waited and waited One of
the junior clerks went to the old man greeted him cheerily and loudly
Evidently the old chief was deaf Then the young fellow came striding
importantly down to his counter He spied Paul
»Hello« he said »You the new lad«
»Yes« said Paul
»Hm Whats your name«
»Paul Morel«
»Paul Morel All right you come on round here«
Paul followed him round the rectangle of counters The room was second
storey It had a great hole in the middle of the floor fenced as with a wall of
counters and down this wide shaft the lifts went and the light for the bottom
storey Also there was a corresponding big oblong hole in the ceiling and one
could see above over the fence of the top floor some machinery and right away
overhead was the glass roof and all light for the three storeys came downwards
getting dimmer so that it was always night on the ground floor and rather
gloomy on the second floor The factory was the top floor the warehouse the
second the storehouse the ground floor It was an insanitary ancient place
Paul was led round to a very dark corner
»This is the Spiral corner« said the clerk »Youre Spiral with
Pappleworth Hes your boss but hes not come yet He doesnt get here till
halfpast eight So you can fetch the letters if you like from Mr Melling
down there«
The young man pointed to the old clerk in the office
»All right« said Paul
»Heres a peg to hang your cap on Here are your entry ledgers Mr
Pappleworth wont be long«
And the thin young man stalked away with long busy strides over the hollow
wooden floor
After a minute or two Paul went down and stood in the door of the glass
office The old clerk in the smokingcap looked down over the rim of his
spectacles
»Goodmorning« he said kindly and impressively »You want the letters for
the Spiral department Thomas«
Paul resented being called Thomas But he took the letters and returned to
his dark place where the counter made an angle where the great parcelrack
came to an end and where there were three doors in the corner He sat on a high
stool and read the letters those whose handwriting was not too difficult They
ran as follows
»Will you please send me at once a pair of ladys silk spiral thighhose
without feet such as I had from you last year length thigh to knee etc« Or
»Major Chamberlain wishes to repeat his previous order for a silk nonelastic
suspensory bandage«
Many of these letters some of them in French or Norwegian were a great
puzzle to the boy He sat on his stool nervously awaiting the arrival of his
boss He suffered tortures of shyness when at halfpast eight the factory
girls for upstairs trooped past him
Mr Pappleworth arrived chewing a chlorodyne gum at about twenty to nine
when all the other men were at work He was a thin sallow man with a red nose
quick staccato and smartly but stiffly dressed He was about thirtysix years
old There was something rather doggy rather smart rather cute and shrewd
and something warm and something slightly contemptible about him
»You my new lad« he said
Paul stood up and said he was
»Fetched the letters«
Mr Pappleworth gave a chew to his gum
»Yes«
»Copied em«
»No«
»Well come on then lets look slippy Changed your coat«
»No«
»You want to bring an old coat and leave it here« He pronounced the last
words with the chlorodyne gum between his side teeth He vanished into the
darkness behind the great parcelrack reappeared coatless turning up a smart
striped shirtcuff over a thin and hairy arm Then he slipped into his coat
Paul noticed how thin he was and that his trousers were in folds behind He
seized a stool dragged it beside the boys and sat down
»Sit down« he said
Paul took a seat
Mr Pappleworth was very close to him The man seized the letters snatched
a long entrybook out of a rack in front of him flung it open seized a pen
and said
»Now look here You want to copy these letters in here« He sniffed twice
gave a quick chew at his gum stared fixedly at a letter then went very still
and absorbed and wrote the entry rapidly in a beautiful flourishing hand He
glanced quickly at Paul
»See that«
»Yes«
»Think you can do it all right«
»Yes«
»All right then lets see you«
He sprang off his stool Paul took a pen Mr Pappleworth disappeared Paul
rather liked copying the letters but he wrote slowly laboriously and
exceedingly badly He was doing the fourth letter and feeling quite busy and
happy when Mr Pappleworth reappeared
»Now then howr yer getting on Done em«
He leaned over the boys shoulder chewing and smelling of chlorodyne
»Strike my bob lad but youre a beautiful writer« he exclaimed
satirically »Neer mind how many hyer done Only three Id a eaten em Get
on my lad an put numbers on em Here look Get on«
Paul ground away at the letters whilst Mr Pappleworth fussed over various
jobs Suddenly the boy started as a shrill whistle sounded near his ear Mr
Pappleworth came took a plug out of a pipe and said in an amazingly cross and
bossy voice
»Yes«
Paul heard a faint voice like a womans out of the mouth of the tube He
gazed in wonder never having seen a speakingtube before
»Well« said Mr Pappleworth disagreeably into the tube »youd better get
some of your back work done then«
Again the womans tiny voice was heard sounding pretty and cross
»Ive not time to stand here while you talk« said Mr Pappleworth and he
pushed the plug into the tube
»Come my lad« he said imploringly to Paul »theres Polly crying out for
them orders Cant you buck up a bit Here come out«
He took the book to Pauls immense chagrin and began the copying himself
He worked quickly and well This done he seized some strips of long yellow
paper about three inches wide and made out the days orders for the
workgirls
»Youd better watch me« he said to Paul working all the while rapidly
Paul watched the weird little drawings of legs and thighs and ankles with the
strokes across and the numbers and the few brief directions which his chief
made upon the yellow paper Then Mr Pappleworth finished and jumped up
»Come on with me« he said and the yellow papers flying in his hands he
dashed through a door and down some stairs into the basement where the gas was
burning They crossed the cold damp storeroom then a long dreary room with a
long table on trestles into a smaller cosy apartment not very high which had
been built on to the main building In this room a small woman with a red serge
blouse and her black hair done on top of her head was waiting like a proud
little bantam
»Here yare« said Pappleworth
»I think it is here you are« exclaimed Polly »The girls have been here
nearly half an hour waiting Just think of the time wasted«
»You think of getting your work done and not talking so much« said Mr
Pappleworth »You could ha been finishing off«
»You know quite well we finished everything off on Saturday« cried Polly
flying at him her dark eyes flashing
»Tututututerterter« he mocked »Heres your new lad Dont ruin him as
you did the last«
»As we did the last« repeated Polly »Yes we do a lot of ruining we do
My word a lad would take some ruining after hed been with you«
»Its time for work now not for talk« said Mr Pappleworth severely and
coldly
»It was time for work some time back« said Polly marching away with her
head in the air She was an erect little body of forty
In that room were two round spiral machines on the bench under the window
Through the inner doorway was another longer room with six more machines A
little group of girls nicely dressed in white aprons stood talking together
»Have you nothing else to do but talk« said Mr Pappleworth
»Only wait for you« said one handsome girl laughing
»Well get on get on« he said »Come on my lad Youll know your road
down here again«
And Paul ran upstairs after his chief He was given some checking and
invoicing to do He stood at the desk labouring in his execrable handwriting
Presently Mr Jordan came strutting down from the glass office and stood behind
him to the boys great discomfort Suddenly a red and fat finger was thrust on
the form he was filling in
»Mr JA Bates Esquire« exclaimed the cross voice just behind his ear
Paul looked at »Mr JA Bates Esquire« in his own vile writing and
wondered what was the matter now
»Didnt they teach you any better than that while they were at it If you
put Mr you dont put Esquire a man cant be both at once«
The boy regretted his toomuch generosity in disposing of honours
hesitated and with trembling fingers scratched out the Mr Then all at once
Mr Jordan snatched away the invoice
»Make another Are you going to send that to a gentleman« And he tore up
the blue form irritably
Paul his ears red with shame began again Still Mr Jordan watched
»I dont know what they do teach in schools Youll have to write better
than that Lads learn nothing nowadays but how to recite poetry and play the
fiddle Have you seen his writing« he asked of Mr Pappleworth
»Yes prime isnt it« replied Mr Pappleworth indifferently
Mr Jordan gave a little grunt not unamiable Paul divined that his
masters bark was worse than his bite Indeed the little manufacturer although
he spoke bad English was quite gentleman enough to leave his men alone and to
take no notice of trifles But he knew he did not look like the boss and owner
of the show so he had to play his rôle of proprietor at first to put things on
a right footing
»Lets see whats your name« asked Mr Pappleworth of the boy
»Paul Morel«
It is curious that children suffer so much at having to pronounce their own
names
»Paul Morel is it All right you PaulMorel through them things there and
then «
Mr Pappleworth subsided on to a stool and began writing A girl came up
from out of a door just behind put some newlypressed elastic web appliances on
the counter and returned Mr Pappleworth picked up the whiteyblue kneeband
examined it and its yellow orderpaper quickly and put it on one side Next
was a fleshpink leg He went through the few things wrote out a couple of
orders and called to Paul to accompany him This time they went through the
door whence the girl had emerged There Paul found himself at the top of a
little wooden flight of steps and below him saw a room with windows round two
sides and at the farther end half a dozen girls sitting bending over the
benches in the light from the window sewing They were singing together »Two
Little Girls in Blue« Hearing the door opened they all turned round to see
Mr Pappleworth and Paul looking down on them from the far end of the room They
stopped singing
»Cant you make a bit less row« said Mr Pappleworth »Folkll think we
keep cats«
A hunchback woman on a high stool turned her long rather heavy face towards
Mr Pappleworth and said in a contralto voice
»Theyre all tomcats then«
In vain Mr Pappleworth tried to be impressive for Pauls benefit He
descended the steps into the finishingoff room and went to the hunchback
Fanny She had such a short body on her high stool that her head with its great
bands of bright brown hair seemed over large as did her pale heavy face She
wore a dress of greenblack cashmere and her wrists coming out of the narrow
cuffs were thin and flat as she put down her work nervously He showed her
something that was wrong with a kneecap
»Well« she said »you neednt come blaming it on to me Its not my fault«
Her colour mounted to her cheek
»I never said it was your fault Will you do as I tell you« replied Mr
Pappleworth shortly
»You dont say its my fault but youd like to make out as it was« the
hunchback woman cried almost in tears Then she snatched the kneecap from her
boss saying »Yes Ill do it for you but you neednt be snappy«
»Heres your new lad« said Mr Pappleworth
Fanny turned smiling very gently on Paul
»Oh« she said
»Yes dont make a softy of him between you«
»Its not us as ud make a softy of him« she said indignantly
»Come on then Paul« said Mr Pappleworth
»Au revoy Paul« said one of the girls
There was a titter of laughter Paul went out blushing deeply not having
spoken a word
The day was very long All morning the workpeople were coming to speak to
Mr Pappleworth Paul was writing or learning to make up parcels ready for the
midday post At one oclock or rather at a quarter to one Mr Pappleworth
disappeared to catch his train he lived in the suburbs At one oclock Paul
feeling very lost took his dinnerbasket down into the stockroom in the
basement that had the long table on trestles and ate his meal hurriedly alone
in that cellar of gloom and desolation Then he went out of doors The
brightness and the freedom of the streets made him feel adventurous and happy
But at two oclock he was back in the corner of the big room Soon the
workgirls went trooping past making remarks It was the commoner girls who
worked upstairs at the heavy tasks of trussmaking and the finishing of
artificial limbs He waited for Mr Pappleworth not knowing what to do sitting
scribbling on the yellow orderpaper Mr Pappleworth came at twenty minutes to
three Then he sat and gossiped with Paul treating the boy entirely as an
equal even in age
In the afternoon there was never very much to do unless it were near the
weekend and the accounts had to be made up At five oclock all the men went
down into the dungeon with the table on trestles and there they had tea eating
breadandbutter on the bare dirty boards talking with the same kind of ugly
haste and slovenliness with which they ate their meal And yet upstairs the
atmosphere among them was always jolly and clear The cellar and the trestles
affected them
After tea when all the gases were lighted work went more briskly There
was the big evening post to get off The hose came up warm and newly pressed
from the workrooms Paul had made out the invoices Now he had the packing up
and addressing to do then he had to weigh his stock of parcels on the scales
Everywhere voices were calling weights there was the chink of metal the rapid
snapping of string the hurrying to old Mr Melling for stamps And at last the
postman came with his sack laughing and jolly Then everything slacked off and
Paul took his dinnerbasket and ran to the station to catch the eighttwenty
train The day in the factory was just twelve hours long
His mother sat waiting for him rather anxiously He had to walk from Keston
so was not home until about twenty past nine And he left the house before seven
in the morning Mrs Morel was rather anxious about his health But she herself
had had to put up with so much that she expected her children to take the same
odds They must go through with what came And Paul stayed at Jordans although
all the time he was there his health suffered from the darkness and lack of air
and the long hours
He came in pale and tired His mother looked at him She saw he was rather
pleased and her anxiety all went
»Well and how was it« she asked
»Ever so funny mother« he replied »You dont have to work a bit hard and
theyre nice with you«
»And did you get on all right«
»Yes they only say my writings bad But Mr Pappleworth hes my man
said to Mr Jordan I should be all right Im Spiral mother you must come and
see Its ever so nice«
Soon he liked Jordans Mr Pappleworth who had a certain saloon bar
flavour about him was always natural and treated him as if he had been a
comrade Sometimes the Spiral boss was irritable and chewed more lozenges than
ever Even then however he was not offensive but one of those people who hurt
themselves by their own irritability more than they hurt other people
»Havent you done that yet« he would cry »Go on be a month of Sundays«
Again and Paul could understand him least then he was jocular and in high
spirits
»Im going to bring my little Yorkshire terrier bitch tomorrow« he said
jubilantly to Paul
»Whats a Yorkshire terrier«
»Dont know what a Yorkshire terrier is Dont know a Yorkshire « Mr
Pappleworth was aghast
»Is it a little silky one colours of iron and rusty silver«
»Thats it my lad Shes a gem Shes had five pounds worth of pups
already and shes worth over seven pounds herself and she doesnt weigh twenty
ounces«
The next day the bitch came She was a shivering miserable morsel Paul did
not care for her she seemed so like a wet rag that would never dry Then a man
called for her and began to make coarse jokes But Mr Pappleworth nodded his
head in the direction of the boy and the talk went on sotto voce
Mr Jordan only made one more excursion to watch Paul and then the only
fault he found was seeing the boy lay his pen on the counter
»Put your pen in your ear if youre going to be a clerk Pen in your ear«
And one day he said to the lad »Why dont you hold your shoulders straighter
Come down here« when he took him into the glass office and fitted him with
special braces for keeping the shoulders square
But Paul liked the girls best The men seemed common and rather dull He
liked them all but they were uninteresting Polly the little brisk overseer
downstairs finding Paul eating in the cellar asked him if she could cook him
anything on her little stove Next day his mother gave him a dish that could be
heated up He took it into the pleasant clean room to Polly And very soon it
grew to be an established custom that he should have dinner with her When he
came in at eight in the morning he took his basket to her and when he came down
at one oclock she had his dinner ready
He was not very tall and pale with thick chestnut hair irregular
features and a wide full mouth She was like a small bird He often called her
a robinet Though naturally rather quiet he would sit and chatter with her for
hours telling her about his home The girls all liked to hear him talk They
often gathered in a little circle while he sat on a bench and held forth to
them laughing Some of them regarded him as a curious little creature so
serious yet so bright and jolly and always so delicate in his way with them
They all liked him and he adored them Polly he felt he belonged to Then
Connie with her mane of red hair her face of appleblossom her murmuring
voice such a lady in her shabby black frock appealed to his romantic side
»When you sit winding« he said »it looks as if you were spinning at a
spinningwheel it looks ever so nice You remind me of Elaine in the Idylls of
the King Id draw you if I could«
And she glanced at him blushing shyly And later on he had a sketch he
prized very much Connie sitting on the stool before the wheel her flowing mane
of red hair on her rusty black frock her red mouth shut and serious running
the scarlet thread off the hank on to the reel
With Louie handsome and brazen who always seemed to thrust her hip at him
he usually joked
Emma was rather plain rather old and condescending But to condescend to
him made her happy and he did not mind
»How do you put needles in« he asked
»Go away and dont bother«
»But I ought to know how to put needles in«
She ground at her machine all the while steadily
»There are many things you ought to know« she replied
»Tell me then how to stick needles in the machine«
»Oh the boy what a nuisance he is Why this is how you do it«
He watched her attentively Suddenly a whistle piped Then Polly appeared
and said in a clear voice
»Mr Pappleworth wants to know how much longer youre going to be down here
playing with the girls Paul«
Paul flew upstairs calling »Goodbye« and Emma drew herself up
»It wasnt me who wanted him to play with the machine« she said
As a rule when all the girls came back at two oclock he ran upstairs to
Fanny the hunchback in the finishingoff room Mr Pappleworth did not appear
till twenty to three and he often found his boy sitting beside Fanny talking
or drawing or singing with the girls
Often after a minutes hesitation Fanny would begin to sing She had a
fine contralto voice Everybody joined in the chorus and it went well Paul was
not at all embarrassed after a while sitting in the room with the half a dozen
workgirls
At the end of the song Fanny would say
»I know youve been laughing at me«
»Dont be so soft Fanny« cried one of the girls
Once there was mention of Connies red hair
»Fannys is better to my fancy« said Emma
»You neednt try to make a fool of me« said Fanny flushing deeply
»No but she has Paul shes got beautiful hair«
»Its a treat of a colour« said he »That coldish colour like earth and
yet shiny Its like bogwater«
»Goodness me« exclaimed one girl laughing
»How I do but get criticised« said Fanny
»But you should see it down Paul« cried Emma earnestly »Its simply
beautiful Put it down for him Fanny if he wants something to paint«
Fanny would not and yet she wanted to
»Then Ill take it down myself« said the lad
»Well you can if you like« said Fanny
And he carefully took the pins out of the knot and the rush of hair of
uniform dark brown slid over the humped back
»What a lovely lot« he exclaimed
The girls watched There was silence The youth shook the hair loose from
the coil
»Its splendid« he said smelling its perfume »Ill bet its worth
pounds«
»Ill leave it you when I die Paul« said Fanny half joking
»You look just like anybody else sitting drying their hair« said one of
the girls to the longlegged hunchback
Poor Fanny was morbidly sensitive always imagining insults Polly was curt
and businesslike The two departments were for ever at war and Paul was always
finding Fanny in tears Then he was made the recipient of all her woes and he
had to plead her case with Polly
So the time went along happily enough The factory had a homely feel No one
was rushed or driven Paul always enjoyed it when the work got faster towards
posttime and all the men united in labour He liked to watch his fellowclerks
at work The man was the work and the work was the man one thing for the time
being It was different with the girls The real woman never seemed to be there
at the task but as if left out waiting
From the train going home at night he used to watch the lights of the town
sprinkled thick on the hills fusing together in a blaze in the valleys He felt
rich in life and happy Drawing farther off there was a patch of lights at
Bulwell like myriad petals shaken to the ground from the shed stars and beyond
was the red glare of the furnaces playing like hot breath on the clouds
He had to walk two and more miles from Keston home up two long hills down
two short hills He was often tired and he counted the lamps climbing the hill
above him how many more to pass And from the hilltop on pitchdark nights
he looked round on the villages five or six miles away that shone like swarms
of glittering living things almost a heaven against his feet Marlpool and
Heanor scattered the faroff darkness with brilliance And occasionally the
black valley space between was traced violated by a great train rushing south
to London or north to Scotland The trains roared by like projectiles level on
the darkness fuming and burning making the valley clang with their passage
They were gone and the lights of the towns and villages glittered in silence
And then he came to the corner at home which faced the other side of the
night The ashtree seemed a friend now His mother rose with gladness as he
entered He put his eight shillings proudly on the table
»Itll help mother« he asked wistfully
»Theres precious little left« she answered »after your ticket and dinners
and such are taken off«
Then he told her the budget of the day His lifestory like an Arabian
Nights was told night after night to his mother It was yalmost as if it were
her own life
Chapter VI
Death in the Family
Arthur Morel was growing up He was a quick careless impulsive boy a good
deal like his father He hated study made a great moan if he had to work and
escaped as soon as possible to his sport again
In appearance he remained the flower of the family being well made
graceful and full of life His dark brown hair and fresh colouring and his
exquisite dark blue eyes shaded with long lashes together with his generous
manner and fiery temper made him a favourite But as he grew older his temper
became uncertain He flew into rages over nothing seemed unbearably raw and
irritable
His mother whom he loved wearied of him sometimes He thought only of
himself When he wanted amusement all that stood in his way he hated even if
it were she When he was in trouble he moaned to her ceaselessly
»Goodness boy« she said when he groaned about a master who he said
hated him »if you dont like it alter it and if you cant alter it put up
with it«
And his father whom he had loved and who had worshipped him he came to
detest As he grew older Morel fell into a slow ruin His body which had been
beautiful in movement and in being shrank did not seem to ripen with the
years but to get mean and rather despicable There came over him a look of
meanness and of paltriness And when the meanlooking elderly man bullied or
ordered the boy about Arthur was furious Moreover Morels manners got worse
and worse his habits somewhat disgusting When the children were growing up and
in the crucial stage of adolescence the father was like some ugly irritant to
their souls His manners in the house were the same as he used among the
colliers down pit
»Dirty nuisance« Arthur would cry jumping up and going straight out of the
house when his father disgusted him And Morel persisted the more because his
children hated it He seemed to take a kind of satisfaction in disgusting them
and driving them nearly mad while they were so irritably sensitive at the age
of fourteen or fifteen So that Arthur who was growing up when his father was
degenerate and elderly hated him worst of all
Then sometimes the father would seem to feel the contemptuous hatred of
his children
»Theres not a man tries harder for his family« he would shout »He does
his best for them and then gets treated like a dog But Im not going to stand
it I tell you«
But for the threat and the fact that he did not try so hard as he imagined
they would have felt sorry As it was the battle now went on nearly all between
father and children he persisting in his dirty and disgusting ways just to
assert his independence They loathed him
Arthur was so inflamed and irritable at last that when he won a scholarship
for the Grammar School in Nottingham his mother decided to let him live in
town with one of her sisters and only come home at weekends
Annie was still a junior teacher in the Boardschool earning about four
shillings a week But soon she would have fifteen shillings since she had
passed her examination and there would be financial peace in the house
Mrs Morel clung now to Paul He was quiet and not brilliant But still he
stuck to his painting and still he stuck to his mother Everything he did was
for her She waited for his coming home in the evening and then she unburdened
herself of all she had pondered or of all that had occurred to her during the
day He sat and listened with his earnestness The two shared lives
William was engaged now to his brunette and had bought her an engagement
ring that cost eight guineas The children gasped at such a fabulous price
»Eight guineas« said Morel »More fool him If hed gen me some ont it
ud ha looked better on im«
»Given you some of it« cried Mrs Morel »Why give you some of it«
She remembered he had bought no engagement ring at all and she preferred
William who was not mean if he were foolish But now the young man talked only
of the dances to which he went with his betrothed and the different resplendent
clothes she wore or he told his mother with glee how they went to the theatre
like great swells
He wanted to bring the girl home Mrs Morel said she should come at the
Christmas This time William arrived with a lady but with no presents Mrs
Morel had prepared supper Hearing footsteps she rose and went to the door
William entered
»Hello mother« He kissed her hastily then stood aside to present a tall
handsome girl who was wearing a costume of fine blackandwhite check and
furs
»Heres Gyp«
Miss Western held out her hand and showed her teeth in a small smile
»Oh how do you do Mrs Morel« she exclaimed
»I am afraid you will be hungry« said Mrs Morel
»Oh no we had dinner in the train Have you got my gloves Chubby«
William Morel big and rawboned looked at her quickly
»How should I« he said
»Then Ive lost them Dont be cross with me«
A frown went over his face but he said nothing She glanced round the
kitchen It was small and curious to her with its glittering kissingbunch its
evergreens behind the pictures its wooden chairs and little deal table At that
moment Morel came in
»Hello dad«
»Hello my son Thas let on me«
The two shook hands and William presented the lady She gave the same smile
that showed her teeth
»How do you do Mr Morel«
Morel bowed obsequiously
»Im very well and I hope so are you You must make yourself very welcome«
»Oh thank you« she replied rather amused
»You will like to go upstairs« said Mrs Morel
»If you dont mind but not if it is any trouble to you«
»It is no trouble Annie will take you Walter carry up this box«
»And dont be an hour dressing yourself up« said William to his betrothed
Annie took a brass candlestick and too shy almost to speak preceded the
young lady to the front bedroom which Mr and Mrs Morel had vacated for her
It too was small and cold by candlelight The colliers wives only lit fires
in bedrooms in case of extreme illness
»Shall I unstrap the box« asked Annie
»Oh thank you very much«
Annie played the part of maid then went downstairs for hot water
»I think shes rather tired mother« said William »Its a beastly journey
and we had such a rush«
»Is there anything I can give her« asked Mrs Morel
»Oh no shell be all right«
But there was a chill in the atmosphere After half an hour Miss Western
came down having put on a purplishcoloured dress very fine for the colliers
kitchen
»I told you youd no need to change« said William to her
»Oh Chubby« Then she turned with that sweetish smile to Mrs Morel »Dont
you think hes always grumbling Mrs Morel«
»Is he« said Mrs Morel »Thats not very nice of him«
»It isnt really«
»You are cold« said the mother »Wont you come near the fire«
Morel jumped out of his armchair
»Come and sit you here« he cried »Come and sit you here«
»No dad keep your own chair Sit on the sofa Gyp« said William
»No no« cried Morel »This cheers warmest Come and sit here Miss
Wesson«
»Thank you so much« said the girl seating herself in the colliers
armchair the place of honour She shivered feeling the warmth of the kitchen
penetrate her
»Fetch me a hanky Chubby dear« she said putting up her mouth to him and
using the same intimate tone as if they were alone which made the rest of the
family feel as if they ought not to be present The young lady evidently did not
realise them as people they were creatures to her for the present William
winced
In such a household in Streatham Miss Western would have been a lady
condescending to her inferiors These people were to her certainly clownish
in short the working classes How was she to adjust herself
»Ill go« said Annie
Miss Western took no notice as if a servant had spoken But when the girl
came downstairs again with the handkerchief she said »Oh thank you« in a
gracious way
She sat and talked about the dinner on the train which had been so poor
about London about dances She was really very nervous and chattered from
fear Morel sat all the time smoking his thick twist tobacco watching her and
listening to her glib London speech as he puffed Mrs Morel dressed up in her
best black silk blouse answered quietly and rather briefly The three children
sat round in silence and admiration Miss Western was the princess Everything
of the best was got out for her the best cups the best spoons the best table
cloth the best coffeejug The children thought she must find it quite grand
She felt strange not able to realize the people not knowing how to treat them
William joked and was slightly uncomfortable
At about ten oclock he said to her
»Arent you tired Gyp«
»Rather Chubby« she answered at once in the intimate tones and putting
her head slightly on one side
»Ill light her the candle mother« he said
»Very well« replied the mother
Miss Western stood up held out her hand to Mrs Morel
»Goodnight Mrs Morel« she said
Paul sat at the boiler letting the water run from the tap into a stone
beerbottle Annie swathed the bottle in an old flannel pitsinglet and kissed
her mother goodnight She was to share the room with the lady because the
house was full
»You wait a minute« said Mrs Morel to Annie And Annie sat nursing the
hotwater bottle Miss Western shook hands all round to everybodys discomfort
and took her departure preceded by William In five minutes he was downstairs
again His heart was rather sore he did not know why He talked very little
till everybody had gone to bed but himself and his mother Then he stood with
his legs apart in his old attitude on the hearthrug and said hesitatingly
»Well mother«
»Well my son«
She sat in the rockingchair feeling somehow hurt and humiliated for his
sake
»Do you like her«
»Yes« came the slow answer
»Shes shy yet mother Shes not used to it Its different from her aunts
house you know«
»Of course it is my boy and she must find it difficult«
»She does« Then he frowned swiftly »If only she wouldnt put on her
blessed airs«
»Its only her first awkwardness my boy Shell be all right«
»Thats it mother« he replied gratefully But his brow was gloomy »You
know shes not like you mother Shes not serious and she cant think«
»Shes young my boy«
»Yes and shes had no sort of show Her mother died when she was a child
Since then shes lived with her aunt whom she cant bear And her father was a
rake Shes had no love«
»No Well you must make up to her«
»And so you have to forgive her a lot of things«
»What do you have to forgive her my boy«
»I dunno When she seems shallow you have to remember shes never had
anybody to bring her deeper side out And shes fearfully fond of me«
»Anybody can see that«
»But you know mother shes shes different from us Those sort of
people like those she lives amongst they dont seem to have the same
principles«
»You mustnt judge too hastily« said Mrs Morel
But he seemed uneasy within himself
In the morning however he was up singing and larking round the house
»Hello« he called sitting on the stairs »Are you getting up«
»Yes« her voice called faintly
»Merry Christmas« he shouted to her
Her laugh pretty and tinkling was heard in the bedroom She did not come
down in half an hour
»Was she really getting up when she said she was« he asked of Annie
»Yes she was« replied Annie
He waited a while then went to the stairs again
»Happy New Year« he called
»Thank you Chubby dear« came the laughing voice far away
»Buck up« he implored
It was nearly an hour and still he was waiting for her Morel who always
rose before six looked at the clock
»Well its a winder« he exclaimed
The family had breakfasted all but William He went to the foot of the
stairs
»Shall I have to send you an Easter egg up there« he called rather
crossly She only laughed The family expected after that time of preparation
something like magic At last she came looking very nice in a blouse and skirt
»Have you really been all this time getting ready« he asked
»Chubby dear That question is not permitted is it Mrs Morel«
She played the grand lady at first When she went with William to chapel he
in his frockcoat and silk hat she in her furs and Londonmade costume Paul
and Arthur and Annie expected everybody to bow to the ground in admiration And
Morel standing in his Sunday suit at the end of the road watching the gallant
pair go felt he was the father of princes and princesses
And yet she was not so grand For a year now she had been a sort of
secretary or clerk in a London office But while she was with the Morels she
queened it She sat and let Annie or Paul wait on her as if they were her
servants She treated Mrs Morel with a certain glibness and Morel with
patronage But after a day or so she began to change her tune
William always wanted Paul or Annie to go along with them on their walks It
was so much more interesting And Paul really did admire Gipsy wholeheartedly
in fact his mother scarcely forgave the boy for the adulation with which he
treated the girl
On the second day when Lily said »Oh Annie do you know where I left my
muff« William replied
»You know it is in your bedroom Why do you ask Annie«
And Lily went upstairs with a cross shut mouth But it angered the young
man that she made a servant of his sister
On the third evening William and Lily were sitting together in the parlour
by the fire in the dark At a quarter to eleven Mrs Morel was heard raking the
fire William came out to the kitchen followed by his beloved
»Is it as late as that mother« he said She had been sitting alone
»It is not late my boy but it is as late as I usually sit up«
»Wont you go to bed then« he asked
»And leave you two No my boy I dont believe in it«
»Cant you trust us mother«
»Whether I can or not I wont do it You can stay till eleven if you like
and I can read«
»Go to bed Gyp« he said to his girl »We wont keep mater waiting«
»Annie has left the candle burning Lily« said Mrs Morel »I think you
will see«
»Yes thank you Goodnight Mrs Morel«
William kissed his sweetheart at the foot of the stairs and she went He
returned to the kitchen
»Cant you trust us mother« he repeated rather offended
»My boy I tell you I dont believe in leaving two young things like you
alone downstairs when everyone else is in bed«
And he was forced to take this answer He kissed his mother goodnight
At Easter he came over alone And then he discussed his sweetheart endlessly
with his mother
»You know mother when Im away from her I dont care for her a bit I
shouldnt care if I never saw her again But then when Im with her in the
evenings I am awfully fond of her«
»Its a queer sort of love to marry on« said Mrs Morel »if she holds you
no more than that«
»It is funny« he exclaimed It worried and perplexed him »But yet
theres so much between us now I couldnt give her up«
»You know best« said Mrs Morel »But if it is as you say I wouldnt call
it love at any rate it doesnt look much like it«
»Oh I dont know mother Shes an orphan and «
They never came to any sort of conclusion He seemed puzzled and rather
fretted She was rather reserved All his strength and money went in keeping
this girl He could scarcely afford to take his mother to Nottingham when he
came over
Pauls wages had been raised at Christmas to ten shillings to his great
joy He was quite happy at Jordans but his health suffered from the long hours
and the confinement His mother to whom he became more and more significant
thought how to help
His halfday holiday was on Monday afternoon On a Monday morning in May as
the two sat alone at breakfast she said
»I think it will be a fine day«
He looked up in surprise This meant something
»You know Mr Leivers has gone to live on a new farm Well he asked me last
week if I wouldnt go and see Mrs Leivers and I promised to bring you on
Monday if its fine Shall we go«
»I say little woman how lovely« he cried »And well go this afternoon«
Paul hurried off to the station jubilant Down Derby Road was a cherrytree
that glistened The old brick wall by the Statutes ground burned scarlet spring
was a very flame of green And the steep swoop of highroad lay in its cool
morning dust splendid with patterns of sunshine and shadow perfectly still
The trees sloped their great green shoulders proudly and inside the warehouse
all the morning the boy had a vision of spring outside
When he came home at dinnertime his mother was rather excited
»Are we going« he asked
»When Im ready« she replied
Presently he got up
»Go and get dressed while I wash up« he said
She did so He washed the pots straightened and then took her boots They
were quite clean Mrs Morel was one of those naturally exquisite people who can
walk in mud without dirtying their shoes But Paul had to clean them for her
They were kid boots at eight shillings a pair He however thought them the
most dainty boots in the world and he cleaned them with as much reverence as if
they had been flowers
Suddenly she appeared in the inner doorway rather shyly She had got a new
cotton blouse on Paul jumped up and went forward
»Oh my stars« he exclaimed »What a bobbydazzler«
She sniffed in a little haughty way and put her head up
»Its not a bobbydazzler at all« she replied »Its very quiet«
She walked forward whilst he hovered round her
»Well« she asked quite shy but pretending to be high and mighty »do you
like it«
»Awfully You are a fine little woman to go jaunting out with«
He went and surveyed her from the back
»Well« he said »if I was walking down the street behind you I should say
Doesnt that little person fancy herself«
»Well she doesnt« replied Mrs Morel »Shes not sure it suits her«
»Oh no she wants to be in dirty black looking as if she was wrapped in
burnt paper It does suit you and I say you look nice«
She sniffed in her little way pleased but pretending to know better
»Well« she said »its cost me just three shillings You couldnt have got
it readymade for that price could you«
»I should think you couldnt« he replied
»And you know its good stuff«
»Awfully pretty« he said
The blouse was white with a little sprig of heliotrope and black
»Too young for me though Im afraid« she said
»Too young for you« he exclaimed in disgust »Why dont you buy some false
white hair and stick it on your head«
»I sll soon have no need« she replied »Im going white fast enough«
»Well youve no business to« he said »What do I want with a whitehaired
mother«
»Im afraid youll have to put up with one my lad« she said rather
strangely
They set off in great style she carrying the umbrella William had given
her because of the sun Paul was considerably taller than she though he was
not big He fancied himself
On the fallow land the young wheat shone silkily Minton pit waved its
plumes of white steam coughed and rattled hoarsely
»Now look at that« said Mrs Morel Mother and son stood on the road to
watch Along the ridge of the great pithill crawled a little group in
silhouette against the sky a horse a small truck and a man They climbed the
incline against the heavens At the end the man tipped the wagon There was an
undue rattle as the waste fell down the sheer slope of the enormous bank
»You sit a minute mother« he said and she took a seat on a bank whilst
he sketched rapidly She was silent whilst he worked looking round at the
afternoon the red cottages shining among their greenness
»The world is a wonderful place« she said »and wonderfully beautiful«
»And sos the pit« he said »Look how it heaps together like something
alive almost a big creature that you dont know«
»Yes« she said »Perhaps«
»And all the trucks standing waiting like a string of beasts to be fed« he
said
»And very thankful I am they are standing« she said »for that means
theyll turn middling time this week«
»But I like the feel of men on things while theyre alive Theres a feel
of men about trucks because theyve been handled with mens hands all of
them«
»Yes« said Mrs Morel
They went along under the trees of the highroad He was constantly informing
her but she was interested They passed the end of Nethermere that was tossing
its sunshine like petals lightly in its lap Then they turned on a private road
and in some trepidation approached a big farm A dog barked furiously A woman
came out to see
»Is this the way to Willey Farm« Mrs Morel asked
Paul hung behind in terror of being sent back But the woman was amiable
and directed them The mother and son went through the wheat and oats over a
little bridge into a wild meadow Peewits with their white breasts glistening
wheeled and screamed about them The lake was still and blue High overhead a
heron floated Opposite the wood heaped on the hill green and still
»Its a wild road mother« said Paul »Just like Canada«
»Isnt it beautiful« said Mrs Morel looking round
»See that heron see see her legs«
He directed his mother what she must see and what not And she was quite
content
»But now« she said »which way He told me through the wood«
The wood fenced and dark lay on their left
»I can feel a bit of a path this road« said Paul »Youve got town feet
somehow or other you have«
They found a little gate and soon were in a broad green alley of the wood
with a new thicket of fir and pine on one hand an old oak glade dipping down on
the other And among the oaks the bluebells stood in pools of azure under the
new green hazels upon a pale fawn floor of oakleaves He found flowers for
her
»Heres a bit of newmown hay« he said then again he brought her
forgetmenots And again his heart hurt with love seeing her hand used with
work holding the little bunch of flowers he gave her She was perfectly happy
But at the end of the riding was a fence to climb Paul was over in a
second
»Come« he said »let me help you«
»No go away I will do it in my own way«
He stood below with his hands up ready to help her She climbed cautiously
»What a way to climb« he exclaimed scornfully when she was safely to earth
again
»Hateful stiles« she cried
»Duffer of a little woman« he replied »who cant get over em«
In front along the edge of the wood was a cluster of low red farm
buildings The two hastened forward Flush with the wood was the apple orchard
where blossom was falling on the grindstone The pond was deep under a hedge and
overhanging oak trees Some cows stood in the shade The farm and buildings
three sides of a quadrangle embraced the sunshine towards the wood It was very
still
Mother and son went into the small railed garden where was a scent of red
gillivers By the open door were some floury loaves put out to cool A hen was
just coming to peck them Then in the doorway suddenly appeared a girl in a
dirty apron She was about fourteen years old had a rosy dark face a bunch of
short black curls very fine and free and dark eyes shy questioning a little
resentful of the strangers she disappeared In a minute another figure
appeared a small frail woman rosy with great dark brown eyes
»Oh« she exclaimed smiling with a little glow »youve come then I am
glad to see you« Her voice was intimate and rather sad
The two women shook hands
»Now are you sure were not a bother to you« said Mrs Morel »I know what
a farming life is«
»Oh no Were only too thankful to see a new face its so lost up here«
»I suppose so« said Mrs Morel
They were taken through into the parlour a long low room with a great
bunch of guelderroses in the fireplace There the women talked whilst Paul
went out to survey the land He was in the garden smelling the gillivers and
looking at the plants when the girl came out quickly to the heap of coal which
stood by the fence
»I suppose these are cabbageroses« he said to her pointing to the bushes
along the fence
She looked at him with startled big brown eyes
»I suppose they are cabbageroses when they come out« he said
»I dont know« she faltered »Theyre white with pink middles«
»Then theyre maidenblush«
Miriam flushed She had a beautiful warm colouring
»I dont know« she said
»You dont have much in your garden« he said
»This is our first year here« she answered in a distant rather superior
way drawing back and going indoors He did not notice but went his round of
exploration Presently his mother came out and they went through the buildings
Paul was hugely delighted
»And I suppose you have the fowls and calves and pigs to look after« said
Mrs Morel to Mrs Leivers
»No« replied the little woman »I cant find time to look after cattle and
Im not used to it Its as much as I can do to keep going in the house«
»Well I suppose it is« said Mrs Morel
Presently the girl came out
»Tea is ready mother« she said in a musical quiet voice
»Oh thank you Miriam then well come« replied her mother almost
ingratiatingly »Would you care to have tea now Mrs Morel«
»Of course« said Mrs Morel »Whenever its ready«
Paul and his mother and Mrs Leivers had tea together Then they went out
into the wood that was flooded with bluebells while fumy forgetmenots were in
the paths The mother and son were in ecstasy together
When they got back to the house Mr Leivers and Edgar the eldest son were
in the kitchen Edgar was about eighteen Then Geoffrey and Maurice big lads of
twelve and thirteen were in from school Mr Leivers was a goodlooking man in
the prime of life with a goldenbrown moustache and blue eyes screwed up
against the weather
The boys were condescending but Paul scarcely observed it They went round
for eggs scrambling into all sorts of places As they were feeding the fowls
Miriam came out The boys took no notice of her One hen with her yellow
chickens was in a coop Maurice took his hand full of corn and let the hen peck
from it
»Durst you do it« he asked of Paul
»Lets see« said Paul
He had a small hand warm and rather capablelooking Miriam watched He
held the corn to the hen The bird eyed it with her hard bright eye and
suddenly made a peck into his hand He started and laughed »Rap rap rap«
went the birds beak in his palm He laughed again and the other boys joined
»She knocks you and nips you but she never hurts« said Paul when the
last corn had gone
»Now Miriam« said Maurice »you come an ave a go«
»No« she cried shrinking back
»Ha baby The mardykid« said her brothers
»It doesnt hurt a bit« said Paul »It only just nips rather nicely«
»No« she still cried shaking her black curls and shrinking
»She dursnt« said Geoffrey »She niver durst do anything except recite
poitry«
»Dursnt jump off a gate dursnt tweedle dursnt go on a slide dursnt
stop a girl hittin her She can do nowt but go about thinkin herself somebody
The Lady of the Lake Yah« cried Maurice
Miriam was crimson with shame and misery
»I dare do more than you« she cried »Youre never anything but cowards and
bullies«
»Oh cowards and bullies« they repeated mincingly mocking her speech
»Not such a clown shall anger me
A boor is answered silently«
he quoted against her shouting with laughter
She went indoors Paul went with the boys into the orchard where they had
rigged up a parallel bar They did feats of strength He was more agile than
strong but it served He fingered a piece of appleblossom that hung low on a
swinging bough
»I wouldnt get the appleblossom« said Edgar the eldest brother
»Therell be no apples next year«
»I wasnt going to get it« replied Paul going away
The boys felt hostile to him they were more interested in their own
pursuits He wandered back to the house to look for his mother As he went round
the back he saw Miriam kneeling in front of the hencoop some maize in her
hand biting her lip and crouching in an intense attitude The hen was eyeing
her wickedly Very gingerly she put forward her hand The hen bobbed for her
She drew back quickly with a cry half of fear half of chagrin
»It wont hurt you« said Paul
She flushed crimson and started up
»I only wanted to try« she said in a low voice
»See it doesnt hurt« he said and putting only two corns in his palm he
let the hen peck peck peck at his bare hand »It only makes you laugh« he
said
She put her hand forward and dragged it away tried again and started back
with a cry He frowned
»Why Id let her take corn from my face« said Paul »only she bumps a bit
Shes ever so neat If she wasnt look how much ground shed peck up every
day«
He waited grimly and watched At last Miriam let the bird peck from her
hand She gave a little cry fear and pain because of fear rather pathetic
But she had done it and she did it again
»There you see« said the boy »It doesnt hurt does it«
She looked at him with dilated dark eyes
»No« she laughed trembling
Then she rose and went indoors She seemed to be in some way resentful of
the boy
»He thinks Im only a common girl« she thought and she wanted to prove she
was a grand person like the Lady of the Lake
Paul found his mother ready to go home She smiled on her son He took the
great bunch of flowers Mr and Mrs Leivers walked down the fields with them
The hills were golden with evening deep in the woods showed the darkening
purple of bluebells It was everywhere perfectly still save for the rustling of
leaves and birds
»But it is a beautiful place« said Mrs Morel
»Yes« answered Mr Leivers »its a nice little place if only it werent
for the rabbits The pastures bitten down to nothing I dunno if ever I sll
get the rent off it«
He clapped his hands and the field broke into motion near the woods brown
rabbits hopping everywhere
»Would you believe it« exclaimed Mrs Morel
She and Paul went on alone together
»Wasnt it lovely mother« he said quietly
A thin moon was coming out His heart was full of happiness till it hurt
His mother had to chatter because she too wanted to cry with happiness
»Now wouldnt I help that man« she said »Wouldnt I see to the fowls and
the young stock And Id learn to milk and Id talk with him and Id plan with
him My word if I were his wife the farm would be run I know But there she
hasnt the strength she simply hasnt the strength She ought never to have
been burdened like it you know Im sorry for her and Im sorry for him too
My word if Id had him I shouldnt have thought him a bad husband Not that
she does either and shes very lovable«
William came home again with his sweetheart at the Whitsuntide He had one
week of his holidays then It was beautiful weather As a rule William and Lily
and Paul went out in the morning together for a walk William did not talk to
his beloved much except to tell her things from his boyhood Paul talked
endlessly to both of them They lay down all three in a meadow by Minton
Church On one side by the Castle Farm was a beautiful quivering screen of
poplars Hawthorn was dropping from the hedges penny daisies and ragged robin
were in the field like laughter William a big fellow of twentythree thinner
now and even a bit gaunt lay back in the sunshine and dreamed while she
fingered with his hair Paul went gathering the big daisies She had taken off
her hat her hair was black as a horses mane Paul came back and threaded
daisies in her jetblack hair big spangles of white and yellow and just a
pink touch of ragged robin
»Now you look like a young witchwoman« the boy said to her »Doesnt she
William«
Lily laughed William opened his eyes and looked at her In his gaze was a
certain baffled look of misery and fierce appreciation
»Has he made a sight of me« she asked laughing down on her lover
»That he has« said William smiling
He looked at her Her beauty seemed to hurt him He glanced at her
flowerdecked head and frowned
»You look nice enough if thats what you want to know« he said
And she walked without her hat In a little while William recovered and was
rather tender to her Coming to a bridge he carved her initials and his in a
heart
L L W
W M
She watched his strong nervous hand with its glistening hairs and freckles as
he carved and she seemed fascinated by it
All the time there was a feeling of sadness and warmth and a certain
tenderness in the house whilst William and Lily were at home But often he got
irritable She had brought for an eightdays stay five dresses and six
blouses
»Oh would you mind« she said to Annie »washing me these two blouses and
these things«
And Annie stood washing when William and Lily went out the next morning
Mrs Morel was furious And sometimes the young man catching a glimpse of his
sweethearts attitude towards his sister hated her
On Sunday morning she looked very beautiful in a dress of foulard silky and
sweeping and blue as a jaybirds feather and in a large cream hat covered
with many roses mostly crimson Nobody could admire her enough But in the
evening when she was going out she asked again
»Chubby have you got my gloves«
»Which« asked William
»My new black suède«
»No«
There was a hunt She had lost them
»Look here mother« said William »thats the fourth pair shes lost since
Christmas at five shillings a pair«
»You only gave me two of them« she remonstrated
And in the evening after supper he stood on the hearthrug whilst she sat
on the sofa and he seemed to hate her In the afternoon he had left her whilst
he went to see some old friend She had sat looking at a book After supper
William wanted to write a letter
»Here is your book Lily« said Mrs Morel »Would you care to go on with it
for a few minutes«
»No thank you« said the girl »I will sit still«
»But it is so dull«
William scribbled irritably at a great rate As he sealed the envelope he
said
»Read a book Why shes never read a book in her life«
»Oh go along« said Mrs Morel cross with the exaggeration
»Its true mother she hasnt« he cried jumping up and taking his old
position on the hearthrug »Shes never read a book in her life«
»Ers like me« chimed in Morel »Er canna see what there is i books ter
sit borin your nose in em for nor more can I«
»But you shouldnt say these things« said Mrs Morel to her son
»But its true mother she cant read What did you give her«
»Well I gave her a little thing of Annie Swans Nobody wants to read dry
stuff on Sunday afternoon«
»Well Ill bet she didnt read ten lines of it«
»You are mistaken« said his mother
All the time Lily sat miserably on the sofa He turned to her swiftly
»Did you read any« he asked
»Yes I did« she replied
»How much«
»I dont know how many pages«
»Tell me one thing you read«
She could not
She never got beyond the second page He read a great deal and had a quick
active intelligence She could understand nothing but lovemaking and chatter
He was accustomed to having all his thoughts sifted through his mothers mind
so when he wanted companionship and was asked in reply to be the billing and
twittering lover he hated his betrothed
»You know mother« he said when he was alone with her at night »shes no
idea of money shes so wesselbrained When shes paid shell suddenly buy
such rot as marrons glacés and then I have to buy her season ticket and her
extras even her underclothing And she wants to get married and I think myself
we might as well get married next year But at this rate «
»A fine mess of a marriage it would be« replied his mother »I should
consider it again my boy«
»Oh well Ive gone too far to break off now« he said »and so I shall get
married as soon as I can«
»Very well my boy If you will you will and theres no stopping you but
I tell you I cant sleep when I think about it«
»Oh shell be all right mother We shall manage«
»And she lets you buy her underclothing« asked the mother
»Well« he began apologetically »she didnt ask me but one morning and
it was cold I found her on the station shivering not able to keep still so I
asked her if she was well wrapped up She said I think so So I said Have you
got warm underthings on And she said No they were cotton I asked her why on
earth she hadnt got something thicker on in weather like that and she said
because she had nothing And there she is a bronchial subject I had to take
her and get some warm things Well mother I shouldnt mind the money if we had
any And you know she ought to keep enough to pay for her seasonticket but
no she comes to me about that and I have to find the money«
»Its a poor lookout« said Mrs Morel bitterly
He was pale and his rugged face that used to be so perfectly careless and
laughing was stamped with conflict and despair
»But I cant give her up now its gone too far« he said »And besides for
some things I couldnt do without her«
»My boy remember youre taking your life in your hands« said Mrs Morel »
Nothing is as bad as a marriage thats a hopeless failure Mine was bad enough
God knows and ought to teach you something but it might have been worse by a
long chalk«
He leaned with his back against the side of the chimneypiece his hands in
his pockets He was a big rawboned man who looked as if he would go to the
worlds end if he wanted to But she saw the despair on his face
»I couldnt give her up now« he said
»Well« she said »remember there are worse wrongs than breaking off an
engagement«
»I cant give her up now« he said
The clock ticked on mother and son remained in silence a conflict between
them but he would say no more At last she said
»Well go to bed my son Youll feel better in the morning and perhaps
youll know better«
He kissed her and went She raked the fire Her heart was heavy now as it
had never been Before with her husband things had seemed to be breaking down
in her but they did not destroy her power to live Now her soul felt lamed in
itself. It was her hope that was struck
And so often William manifested the same hatred towards his betrothed On
the last evening at home he was railing against her
»Well« he said »if you dont believe me what shes like would you
believe she has been confirmed three times«
»Nonsense« laughed Mrs Morel
»Nonsense or not she has Thats what confirmation means for her a bit of
a theatrical show where she can cut a figure«
»I havent Mrs Morel« cried the girl »I havent it is not true«
»What« he cried flashing round on her »Once in Bromley once in
Beckenham and once somewhere else«
»Nowhere else« she said in tears »nowhere else«
»It was And if it wasnt why were you confirmed twice«
»Once I was only fourteen Mrs Morel« she pleaded tears in her eyes
»Yes« said Mrs Morel »I can quite understand it child Take no notice of
him You ought to be ashamed William saying such things«
»But its true Shes religious she had blue velvet PrayerBooks and
shes not as much religion or anything else in her than that tableleg Gets
confirmed three times for show to show herself off and thats how she is in
everything everything«
The girl sat on the sofa crying She was not strong
»As for love« he cried »you might as well ask a fly to love you Itll
love settling on you «
»Now say no more« commanded Mrs Morel »If you want to say these things
you must find another place than this I am ashamed of you William Why dont
you be more manly To do nothing but find fault with a girl and then pretend
youre engaged to her«
Mrs Morel subsided in wrath and indignation
William was silent and later he repented kissed and comforted the girl
Yet it was true what he had said He hated her
When they were going away Mrs Morel accompanied them as far as Nottingham
It was a long way to Keston station
»You know mother« he said to her »Gyps shallow Nothing goes deep with
her«
»William I wish you wouldnt say these things« said Mrs Morel very
uncomfortable for the girl who walked beside her
»But it doesnt mother Shes very much in love with me now but if I died
shed have forgotten me in three months«
Mrs Morel was afraid Her heart beat furiously hearing the quiet
bitterness of her sons last speech
»How do you know« she replied »You dont know and therefore youve no
right to say such a thing«
»Hes always saying these things« cried the girl
»In three months after I was buried youd have somebody else and I should
be forgotten« he said »And thats your love«
Mrs Morel saw them into the train in Nottingham then she returned home
»Theres one comfort« she said to Paul »hell never have any money to
marry on that I am sure of And so shell save him that way«
So she took cheer Matters were not yet very desperate She firmly believed
William would never marry his Gipsy She waited and she kept Paul near to her
All summer long Williams letters had a feverish tone he seemed unnatural
and intense Sometimes he was exaggeratedly jolly usually he was flat and
bitter in his letter
»Ah« his mother said »Im afraid hes ruining himself against that
creature who isnt worthy of his love no no more than a rag doll«
He wanted to come home The midsummer holiday was gone it was a long while
to Christmas He wrote in wild excitement saying he could come for Saturday and
Sunday at Goose Fair the first week in October
»You are not well my boy« said his mother when she saw him
She was almost in tears at having him to herself again
»No Ive not been well« he said »Ive seemed to have a dragging cold all
the last month but its going I think«
It was sunny October weather He seemed wild with joy like a schoolboy
escaped then again he was silent and reserved He was more gaunt than ever and
there was a haggard look in his eyes
»You are doing too much« said his mother to him
He was doing extra work trying to make some money to marry on he said He
only talked to his mother once on the Saturday night then he was sad and tender
about his beloved
»And yet you know mother for all that if I died shed be brokenhearted
for two months and then shed start to forget me Youd see shed never come
home here to look at my grave not even once«
»Why William« said his mother »youre not going to die so why talk about
it«
»But whether or not « he replied
»And she cant help it She is like that and if you choose her well you
cant grumble« said his mother
On the Sunday morning as he was putting his collar on
»Look« he said to his mother holding up his chin »what a rash my collars
made under my chin«
Just at the junction of chin and throat was a big red inflamation
»It ought not to do that« said his mother »Here put a bit of this
soothing ointment on You should wear different collars«
He went away on Sunday midnight seeming better and more solid for his two
days at home
On Tuesday morning came a telegram from London that he was ill Mrs Morel
got off her knees from washing the floor read the telegram called a neighbour
went to her landlady and borrowed a sovereign put on her things and set off
She hurried to Keston caught an express for London in Nottingham She had to
wait in Nottingham nearly an hour A small figure in her black bonnet she was
anxiously asking the porters if they knew how to get to Elmers End The journey
was three hours She sat in her corner in a kind of stupor never moving At
Kings Cross still no one could tell her how to get to Elmers End Carrying her
string bag that contained her nightdress a comb and brush she went from
person to person At last they sent her underground to Cannon Street
It was six oclock when she arrived at Williams lodging The blinds were
not down
»How is he« she asked
»No better« said the landlady
She followed the woman upstairs William lay on the bed with bloodshot
eyes his face rather discoloured The clothes were tossed about there was no
fire in the room a glass of milk stood on the stand at his bedside No one had
been with him
»Why my son« said the mother bravely
He did not answer He looked at her but did not see her Then he began to
say in a dull voice as if repeating a letter from dictation »Owing to a
leakage in the hold of this vessel the sugar had set and become converted into
rock It needed hacking «
He was quite unconscious It had been his business to examine some such
cargo of sugar in the Port of London
»How long has he been like this« the mother asked the landlady
»He got home at six oclock on Monday morning and he seemed to sleep all
day then in the night we heard him talking and this morning he asked for you
So I wired and we fetched the doctor«
»Will you have a fire made«
Mrs Morel tried to soothe her son to keep him still
The doctor came It was pneumonia and he said a peculiar erysipelas
which had started under the chin where the collar chafed and was spreading over
the face He hoped it would not get to the brain
Mrs Morel settled down to nurse She prayed for William prayed that he
would recognise her But the young mans face grew more discoloured In the
night she struggled with him He raved and raved and would not come to
consciousness At two oclock in a dreadful paroxysm he died
Mrs Morel sat perfectly still for an hour in the lodging bedroom then she
roused the household
At six oclock with the aid of the charwoman she laid him out then she
went round the dreary London village to the registrar and the doctor
At nine oclock to the cottage on Scargill Street came another wire
»William died last night Let father come bring money«
Annie Paul and Arthur were at home Mr Morel was gone to work The three
children said not a word Annie began to whimper with fear Paul set off for his
father
It was a beautiful day At Brinsley pit the white steam melted slowly in the
sunshine of a soft blue sky the wheels of the headstocks twinkled high up the
screen shuffling its coal into the trucks made a busy noise
»I want my father hes got to go to London« said the boy to the first man
he met on the bank
»Tha wants Walter Morel Go in theer an tell Joe Ward«
Paul went into the little top office
»I want my father hes got to go to London«
»Thy feyther Is he down Whats his name«
»Mr Morel«
»What Walter Is owt amiss«
»Hes got to go to London«
The man went to the telephone and rang up the bottom office
»Walter Morels wanted number 42 Hard Summats amiss theres his lad
here«
Then he turned round to Paul
»Hell be up in a few minutes« he said
Paul wandered out to the pittop He watched the chair come up with its
wagon of coal The great iron cage sank back on its rest a full carfle was
hauled off an empty tram run on to the chair a bell tinged somewhere the
chair heaved then dropped like a stone
Paul did not realise William was dead it was impossible with such a bustle
going on The pulleroff swung the small truck on to the turntable another man
ran with it along the bank down the curving lines
»And William is dead and my mothers in London and what will she be
doing« the boy asked himself as if it were a conundrum
He watched chair after chair come up and still no father At last standing
beside a wagon a mans form the chair sank on its rests Morel stepped off He
was slightly lame from an accident
»Is it thee Paul Is e worse«
»Youve got to go to London«
The two walked off the pitbank where men were watching curiously As they
came out and went along the railway with the sunny autumn field on one side and
a wall of trucks on the other Morel said in a frightened voice
»Es niver gone child«
»Yes«
»When wort«
»Last night We had a telegram from my mother«
Morel walked on a few strides then leaned up against a truckside his hand
over his eyes He was not crying Paul stood looking round waiting On the
weighing machine a truck trundled slowly Paul saw everything except his father
leaning against the truck as if he were tired
Morel had only once before been to London He set off scared and peaked to
help his wife That was on Tuesday The children were left alone in the house
Paul went to work Arthur went to school and Annie had in a friend to be with
her
On Saturday night as Paul was turning the corner coming home from Keston
he saw his mother and father who had come to Sethley Bridge Station They were
walking in silence in the dark tired straggling apart The boy waited
»Mother« he said in the darkness
Mrs Morels small figure seemed not to observe He spoke again
»Paul« she said uninterestedly
She let him kiss her but she seemed unaware of him
In the house she was the same small white and mute She noticed nothing
she said nothing only
»The coffin will be here tonight Walter Youd better see about some
help« Then turning to the children »Were bringing him home«
Then she relapsed into the same mute looking into space her hands folded on
her lap Paul looking at her felt he could not breathe The house was dead
silent
»I went to work mother« he said plaintively
»Did you« she answered dully
After half an hour Morel troubled and bewildered came in again
»Wheer sll we hae him when he does come« he asked his wife
»In the frontroom«
»Then Id better shift th table«
»Yes«
»An hae him across th chairs«
»You know there Yes I suppose so«
Morel and Paul went with a candle into the parlour There was no gas
there The father unscrewed the top of the big mahogany oval table and cleared
the middle of the room then he arranged six chairs opposite each other so that
the coffin could stand on their beds
»You niver seed such a length as he is« said the miner and watching
anxiously as he worked
Paul went to the bay window and looked out The ashtree stood monstrous and
black in front of the wide darkness It was a faintly luminous night Paul went
back to his mother
At ten oclock Morel called
»Hes here«
Everyone started There was a noise of unbarring and unlocking the front
door which opened straight from the night into the room
»Bring another candle« called Morel
Annie and Arthur went Paul followed with his mother He stood with his arm
round her waist in the inner doorway Down the middle of the cleared room waited
six chairs face to face In the window against the lace curtains Arthur held
up one candle and by the open door against the night Annie stood leaning
forward her brass candlestick glittering
There was the noise of wheels Outside in the darkness of the street below
Paul could see horses and a black vehicle one lamp and a few pale faces then
some men miners all in their shirtsleeves seemed to struggle in the
obscurity Presently two men appeared bowed beneath a great weight It was
Morel and his neighbour
»Steady« called Morel out of breath
He and his fellow mounted the steep garden step heaved into the candlelight
with their gleaming coffinend Limbs of other men were seen struggling behind
Morel and Burns in front staggered the great dark weight swayed
»Steady steady« cried Morel as if in pain
All the six bearers were up in the small garden holding the great coffin
aloft There were three more steps to the door The yellow lamp of the carriage
shone alone down the black road
»Now then« said Morel
The coffin swayed the men began to mount the three steps with their load
Annies candle flickered and she whimpered as the first men appeared and the
limbs and bowed heads of six men struggled to climb into the room bearing the
coffin that rode like sorrow on their living flesh
»Oh my son my son« Mrs Morel sang softly and each time the coffin
swung to the unequal climbing of the men »Oh my son my son my son«
»Mother« Paul whimpered his hand round her waist
She did not hear
»Oh my son my son« she repeated
Paul saw drops of sweat fall from his fathers brow Six men were in the
room six coatless men with yielding struggling limbs filling the room and
knocking against the furniture The coffin veered and was gently lowered on to
the chairs The sweat fell from Morels face on its boards
»My word hes a weight« said a man and the five miners sighed bowed
and trembling with the struggle descended the steps again closing the door
behind them
The family was alone in the parlour with the great polished box William
when laid out was six feet four inches long Like a monument lay the bright
brown ponderous coffin Paul thought it would never be got out of the room
again His mother was stroking the polished wood
They buried him on the Monday in the little cemetery on the hillside that
looks over the fields at the big church and the houses It was sunny and the
white chrysanthemums frilled themselves in the warmth
Mrs Morel could not be persuaded after this to talk and take her old
bright interest in life She remained shut off All the way home in the train
she had said to herself »If only it could have been me«
When Paul came home at night he found his mother sitting her days work
done with hands folded in her lap upon her coarse apron She always used to
have changed her dress and put on a black apron before Now Annie set his
supper and his mother sat looking blankly in front of her her mouth shut
tight Then he beat his brains for news to tell her
»Mother Miss Jordan was down today and she said my sketch of a colliery
at work was beautiful«
But Mrs Morel took no notice Night after night he forced himself to tell
her things although she did not listen It drove him almost insane to have her
thus At last
»Whats amatter mother« he asked
She did not hear
»Whats amatter« he persisted »Mother whats amatter«
»You know whats the matter« she said irritably turning away
The lad he was sixteen years old went to bed drearily He was cut off
and wretched through October November and December His mother tried but she
could not rouse herself She could only brood on her dead son he had been let
to die so cruelly
At last on December 23 with his five shillings Christmasbox in his
pocket Paul wandered blindly home His mother looked at him and her heart
stood still
»Whats the matter« she asked
»Im badly mother« he replied »Mr Jordan gave me five shillings for a
Christmasbox«
He handed it to her with trembling hands She put it on the table
»You arent glad« he reproached her but he trembled violently
»Where hurts you« she said unbuttoning his overcoat
It was the old question
»I feel badly mother«
She undressed him and put him to bed He had pneumonia dangerously the
doctor said
»Might he never have had it if Id kept him at home not let him go to
Nottingham« was one of the first things she asked
»He might not have been so bad« said the doctor
Mrs Morel stood condemned on her own ground
»I should have watched the living not the dead« she told herself
Paul was very ill His mother lay in bed at nights with him they could not
afford a nurse He grew worse and the crisis approached One night he tossed
into consciousness in the ghastly sickly feeling of dissolution when all the
cells in the body seem in intense irritability to be breaking down and
consciousness makes a last flare of struggle like madness
»I sll die mother« he cried heaving for breath on the pillow
She lifted him up crying in a small voice
»Oh my son my son«
That brought him to He realised her His whole will rose up and arrested
him He put his head on her breast and took ease of her for love
»For some things« said his aunt »it was a good thing Paul was ill that
Christmas I believe it saved his mother«
Paul was in bed for seven weeks He got up white and fragile His father had
bought him a pot of scarlet and gold tulips They used to flame in the window in
the March sunshine as he sat on the sofa chattering to his mother The two
knitted together in perfect intimacy Mrs Morels life now rooted itself in
Paul
William had been a prophet Mrs Morel had a little present and a letter
from Lily at Christmas Mrs Morels sister had a letter at the New Year
»I was at a ball last night Some delightful people were there and I
enjoyed myself thoroughly« said the letter »I had every dance did not sit
out one«
Mrs Morel never heard any more of her
Morel and his wife were gentle with each other for some time after the death
of their son He would go into a kind of daze staring wideeyed and blank
across the room Then he got up suddenly and hurried out to the Three Spots
returning in his normal state But never in his life would he go for a walk up
Shepstone past the office where his son had worked and he always avoided the
cemetery
Part Two
Chapter VII
LadandGirl Love
Paul had been many times up to Willey Farm during the autumn He was friends
with the two youngest boys Edgar the eldest would not condescend at first And
Miriam also refused to be approached She was afraid of being set at nought as
by her own brothers The girl was romantic in her soul Everywhere was a Walter
Scott heroine being loved by men with helmets or with plumes in their caps She
herself was something of a princess turned into a swinegirl in her own
imagination And she was afraid lest this boy who nevertheless looked
something like a Walter Scott hero who could paint and speak French and knew
what algebra meant and who went by train to Nottingham every day might
consider her simply as the swinegirl unable to perceive the princess beneath
so she held aloof
Her great companion was her mother They were both browneyed and inclined
to be mystical such women as treasure religion inside them breathe it in their
nostrils and see the whole of life in a mist thereof So to Miriam Christ and
God made one great figure which she loved tremblingly and passionately when a
tremendous sunset burned out the western sky and Ediths and Lucys and
Rowenas Brian de Bois Guilberts Rob Roys and Guy Mannerings rustled the
sunny leaves in the morning or sat in her bedroom aloft alone when it snowed
That was life to her For the rest she drudged in the house which work she
would not have minded had not her clean red floor been mucked up immediately by
the trampling farmboots of her brothers She madly wanted her little brother of
four to let her swathe him and stifle him in her love she went to church
reverently with bowed head and quivered in anguish from the vulgarity of the
other choirgirls and from the commonsounding voice of the curate she fought
with her brothers whom she considered brutal louts and she held not her father
in too high esteem because he did not carry any mystical ideals cherished in his
heart but only wanted to have as easy a time as he could and his meals when he
was ready for them
She hated her position as swinegirl She wanted to be considered She
wanted to learn thinking that if she could read as Paul said he could read
»Colomba« or the »Voyage autour de ma Chambre« the world would have a
different face for her and a deepened respect She could not be princess by
wealth or standing So she was mad to have learning whereon to pride herself
For she was different from other folk and must not be scooped up among the
common fry Learning was the only distinction to which she thought to aspire
Her beauty that of a shy wild quiveringly sensitive thing seemed
nothing to her Even her soul so strong for rhapsody was not enough She must
have something to reinforce her pride because she felt different from other
people Paul she eyed rather wistfully On the whole she scorned the male sex
But here was a new specimen quick light graceful who could be gentle and who
could be sad and who was clever and who knew a lot and who had a death in the
family The boys poor morsel of learning exalted him almost skyhigh in her
esteem Yet she tried hard to scorn him because he would not see in her the
princess but only the swinegirl And he scarcely observed her
Then he was so ill and she felt he would be weak Then she would be
stronger than he Then she could love him If she could be mistress of him in
his weakness take care of him if he could depend on her if she could as it
were have him in her arms how she would love him
As soon as the skies brightened and plumblossom was out Paul drove off in
the milkmans heavy float up to Willey Farm Mr Leivers shouted in a kindly
fashion at the boy then clicked to the horse as they climbed the hill slowly
in the freshness of the morning White clouds went on their way crowding to the
back of the hills that were rousing in the springtime The water of Nethermere
lay below very blue against the seared meadows and the thorntrees
It was four and a half miles drive Tiny buds on the hedges vivid as
coppergreen were opening into rosettes and thrushes called and blackbirds
shrieked and scolded It was a new glamorous world
Miriam peeping through the kitchen window saw the horse walk through the
big white gate into the farmyard that was backed by the oakwood still bare
Then a youth in a heavy overcoat climbed down He put up his hands for the whip
and the rug that the goodlooking ruddy farmer handed down to him
Miriam appeared in the doorway She was nearly sixteen very beautiful with
her warm colouring her gravity her eyes dilating suddenly like an ecstasy
»I say« said Paul turning shyly aside »your daffodils are nearly out
Isnt it early But dont they look cold«
»Cold« said Miriam in her musical caressing voice
»The green on their buds « and he faltered into silence timidly
»Let me take the rug« said Miriam overgently
»I can carry it« he answered rather injured But he yielded it to her
Then Mrs Leivers appeared
»Im sure youre tired and cold« she said »Let me take your coat It is
heavy You mustnt walk far in it«
She helped him off with his coat He was quite unused to such attention She
was almost smothered under its weight
»Why mother« laughed the farmer as he passed through the kitchen swinging
the great milkchurns »youve got almost more than you can manage there«
She beat up the sofa cushions for the youth
The kitchen was very small and irregular The farm had been originally a
labourers cottage And the furniture was old and battered But Paul loved it
loved the sackbag that formed the hearthrug and the funny little corner under
the stairs and the small window deep in the corner through which bending a
little he could see the plum trees in the back garden and the lovely round
hills beyond
»Wont you lie down« said Mrs Leivers
»Oh no Im not tired« he said »Isnt it lovely coming out dont you
think I saw a sloebush in blossom and a lot of celandines Im glad its
sunny«
»Can I give you anything to eat or to drink«
»No thank you«
»Hows your mother«
»I think shes tired now I think shes had too much to do Perhaps in a
little while shell go to Skegness with me Then shell be able to rest I sll
be glad if she can«
»Yes« replied Mrs Leivers »Its a wonder she isnt ill herself«
Miriam was moving about preparing dinner Paul watched everything that
happened His face was pale and thin but his eyes were quick and bright with
life as ever He watched the strange almost rhapsodic way in which the girl
moved about carrying a great stewjar to the oven or looking in the saucepan
The atmosphere was different from that of his own home where everything seemed
so ordinary When Mr Leivers called loudly outside to the horse that was
reaching over to feed on the rosebushes in the garden the girl started looked
round with dark eyes as if something had come breaking in on her world There
was a sense of silence inside the house and out Miriam seemed as in some dreamy
tale a maiden in bondage her spirit dreaming in a land far away and magical
And her discoloured old blue frock and her broken boots seemed only like the
romantic rags of King Cophetuas beggarmaid
She suddenly became aware of his keen blue eyes upon her taking her all in
Instantly her broken boots and her frayed old frock hurt her She resented his
seeing everything Even he knew that her stocking was not pulled up She went
into the scullery blushing deeply And afterwards her hands trembled slightly
at her work She nearly dropped all she handled When her inside dream was
shaken her body quivered with trepidation She resented that he saw so much
Mrs Leivers sat for some time talking to the boy although she was needed
at her work She was too polite to leave him Presently she excused herself and
rose After a while she looked into the tin saucepan
»Oh dear Miriam« she cried »these potatoes have boiled dry«
Miriam started as if she had been stung
»Have they mother« she cried
»I shouldnt care Miriam« said the mother »if I hadnt trusted them to
you« She peered into the pan
The girl stiffened as if from a blow Her dark eyes dilated she remained
standing in the same spot
»Well« she answered gripped tight in selfconscious shame »Im sure I
looked at them five minutes since«
»Yes« said the mother »I know its easily done«
»Theyre not much burned« said Paul »It doesnt matter does it«
Mrs Leivers looked at the youth with her brown hurt eyes
»It wouldnt matter but for the boys« she said to him »Only Miriam knows
what a trouble they make if the potatoes are caught«
»Then« thought Paul to himself »you shouldnt let them make a trouble«
After a while Edgar came in He wore leggings and his boots were covered
with earth He was rather small rather formal for a farmer He glanced at
Paul nodded to him distantly and said
»Dinner ready«
»Nearly Edgar« replied the mother apologetically
»Im ready for mine« said the young man taking up the newspaper and
reading Presently the rest of the family trooped in Dinner was served The
meal went rather brutally The overgentleness and apologetic tone of the mother
brought out all the brutality of manners in the sons Edgar tasted the potatoes
moved his mouth quickly like a rabbit looked indignantly at his mother and
said
»These potatoes are burnt mother«
»Yes Edgar I forgot them for a minute Perhaps youll have bread if you
cant eat them«
Edgar looked in anger across at Miriam
»What was Miriam doing that she couldnt attend to them« he said
Miriam looked up Her mouth opened her dark eyes blazed and winced but she
said nothing She swallowed her anger and her shame bowing her dark head
»Im sure she was trying hard« said the mother
»She hasnt got sense even to boil the potatoes« said Edgar »What is she
kept at home for«
»Ony for eating everything thats left in th pantry« said Maurice
»They dont forget that potatopie against our Miriam« laughed the father
She was utterly humiliated The mother sat in silence suffering like some
saint out of place at the brutal board
It puzzled Paul He wondered vaguely why all this intense feeling went
running because of a few burnt potatoes The mother exalted everything even a
bit of housework to the plane of a religious trust The sons resented this
they felt themselves cut away underneath and they answered with brutality and
also with a sneering superciliousness
Paul was just opening out from childhood into manhood This atmosphere
where everything took a religious value came with a subtle fascination to him
There was something in the air His own mother was logical Here there was
something different something he loved something that at times he hated
Miriam quarrelled with her brothers fiercely Later in the afternoon when
they had gone away again her mother said
»You disappointed me at dinnertime Miriam«
The girl dropped her head
»They are such brutes« she suddenly cried looking up with flashing eyes
»But hadnt you promised not to answer them« said the mother »And I
believed in you I cant stand it when you wrangle«
»But theyre so hateful« cried Miriam »and and low«
»Yes dear But how often have I asked you not to answer Edgar back Cant
you let him say what he likes«
»But why should he say what he likes«
»Arent you strong enough to bear it Miriam if even for my sake Are you
so weak that you must wrangle with them«
Mrs Leivers stuck unflinchingly to this doctrine of the other cheek She
could not instil it at all into the boys With the girls she succeeded better
and Miriam was the child of her heart The boys loathed the other cheek when it
was presented to them Miriam was often sufficiently lofty to turn it Then they
spat on her and hated her But she walked in her proud humility living within
herself
There was always this feeling of jangle and discord in the Leivers family
Although the boys resented so bitterly this eternal appeal to their deeper
feelings of resignation and proud humility yet it had its effect on them They
could not establish between themselves and an outsider just the ordinary human
feeling and unexaggerated friendship they were always restless for the
something deeper Ordinary folk seemed shallow to them trivial and
inconsiderable And so they were unaccustomed painfully uncouth in the simplest
social intercourse suffering and yet insolent in their superiority Then
beneath was the yearning for the soulintimacy to which they could not attain
because they were too dumb and every approach to close connection was blocked
by their clumsy contempt of other people They wanted genuine intimacy but they
could not get even normally near to anyone because they scorned to take the
first steps they scorned the triviality which forms common human intercourse
Paul fell under Mrs Leiverss spell Everything had a religious and
intensified meaning when he was with her His soul hurt highly developed
sought her as if for nourishment Together they seemed to sift the vital fact
from an experience
Miriam was her mothers daughter In the sunshine of the afternoon mother
and daughter went down the fields with him They looked for nests There was a
jenny wrens in the hedge by the orchard
»I do want you to see this« said Mrs Leivers
He crouched down and carefully put his finger through the thorns into the
round door of the nest
»Its almost as if you were feeling inside the live body of the bird« he
said »its so warm They say a bird makes its nest round like a cup with
pressing its breast on it Then how did it make the ceiling round I wonder«
The nest seemed to start into life for the two women After that Miriam
came to see it every day It seemed so close to her Again going down the
hedgeside with the girl he noticed the celandines scalloped splashes of gold
on the side of the ditch
»I like them« he said »when their petals go flat back with the sunshine
They seemed to be pressing themselves at the sun«
And then the celandines ever after drew her with a little spell
Anthropomorphic as she was she stimulated him into appreciating things thus
and then they lived for her She seemed to need things kindling in her
imagination or in her soul before she felt she had them And she was cut off
from ordinary life by her religious intensity which made the world for her
either a nunnery garden or a paradise where sin and knowledge were not or else
an ugly cruel thing
So it was in this atmosphere of subtle intimacy this meeting in their
common feeling for something in Nature, that their love started
Personally he was a long time before he realized her For ten months he had
to stay at home after his illness For a while he went to Skegness with his
mother and was perfectly happy But even from the seaside he wrote long letters
to Mrs Leivers about the shore and the sea And he brought back his beloved
sketches of the flat Lincoln coast anxious for them to see Almost they would
interest the Leivers more than they interested his mother It was not his art
Mrs Morel cared about it was himself and his achievement But Mrs Leivers and
her children were almost his disciples They kindled him and made him glow to
his work whereas his mothers influence was to make him quietly determined
patient dogged unwearied
He soon was friends with the boys whose rudeness was only superficial They
had all when they could trust themselves a strange gentleness and lovableness
»Will you come with me on to the fallow« asked Edgar rather hesitatingly
Paul went joyfully and spent the afternoon helping to hoe or to single
turnips with his friend He used to lie with the three brothers in the hay piled
up in the barn and tell them about Nottingham and about Jordans In return
they taught him to milk and let him do little jobs chopping hay or pulping
turnips just as much as he liked At midsummer he worked all through
hayharvest with them and then he loved them The family was so cut off from
the world actually They seemed somehow like les derniers fils dune race
épuisée Though the lads were strong and healthy yet they had all that
oversensitiveness and hangingback which made them so lonely yet also such
close delicate friends once their intimacy was won Paul loved them dearly and
they him
Miriam came later But he had come into her life before she made any mark on
his One dull afternoon when the men were on the land and the rest at school
only Miriam and her mother at home the girl said to him after having hesitated
for some time
»Have you seen the swing«
»No« he answered »Where«
»In the cowshed« she replied
She always hesitated to offer or to show him anything Men have such
different standards of worth from women and her dear things the valuable
things to her her brothers had so often mocked or flouted
»Come on then« he replied jumping up
There were two cowsheds one on either side of the barn In the lower
darker shed there was standing for four cows Hens flew scolding over the
mangerwall as the youth and girl went forward for the great thick rope which
hung from the beam in the darkness overhead and was pushed back over a peg in
the wall
»Its something like a rope« he exclaimed appreciatively and he sat down
on it anxious to try it Then immediately he rose
»Come on then and have first go« he said to the girl
»See« she answered going into the barn »we put some bags on the seat«
and she made the swing comfortable for him That gave her pleasure He held the
rope
»Come on then« he said to her
»No I wont go first« she answered
She stood aside in her still aloof fashion
»Why«
»You go« she pleaded
Almost for the first time in her life she had the pleasure of giving up to a
man of spoiling him Paul looked at her
»All right« he said sitting down »Mind out«
He set off with a spring and in a moment was flying through the air almost
out of the door of the shed the upper half of which was open showing outside
the drizzling rain the filthy yard the cattle standing disconsolate against
the black cartshed and at the back of all the greygreen wall of the wood She
stood below in her crimson tamoshanter and watched He looked down at her
and she saw his blue eyes sparkling
»Its a treat of a swing« he said
»Yes«
He was swinging through the air every bit of him swinging like a bird that
swoops for joy of movement And he looked down at her Her crimson cap hung over
her dark curls her beautiful warm face so still in a kind of brooding was
lifted towards him It was dark and rather cold in the shed Suddenly a swallow
came down from the high roof and darted out of the door
»I didnt know a bird was watching« he called
He swung negligently She could feel him falling and lifting through the
air as if he were lying on some force
»Now Ill die« he said in a detached dreamy voice as though he were the
dying motion of the swing She watched him fascinated Suddenly he put on the
brake and jumped out
»Ive had a long turn« he said »But its a treat of a swing its a real
treat of a swing«
Miriam was amused that he took a swing so seriously and felt so warmly over
it
»No you go on« she said
»Why dont you want one« he asked astonished
»Well not much Ill have just a little«
She sat down whilst he kept the bags in place for her
»Its so ripping« he said setting her in motion »Keep your heels up or
theyll bang the manger wall«
She felt the accuracy with which he caught her exactly at the right moment
and the exactly proportionate strength of his thrust and she was afraid Down
to her bowels went the hot wave of fear She was in his hands Again firm and
inevitable came the thrust at the right moment She gripped the rope almost
swooning
»Ha« she laughed in fear »No higher«
»But youre not a bit high« he remonstrated
»But no higher«
He heard the fear in her voice and desisted Her heart melted in hot pain
when the moment came for him to thrust her forward again But he left her alone
She began to breathe
»Wont you really go any farther« he asked »Should I keep you there«
»No let me go by myself« she answered
He moved aside and watched her
»Why youre scarcely moving« he said
She laughed slightly with shame and in a moment got down
»They say if you can swing you wont be seasick« he said as he mounted
again »I dont believe I should ever be seasick«
Away he went There was something fascinating to her in him For the moment
he was nothing but a piece of swinging stuff not a particle of him that did not
swing She could never lose herself so nor could her brothers It roused a
warmth in her It were almost as if he were a flame that had lit a warmth in her
whilst he swung in the middle air
And gradually the intimacy with the family concentrated for Paul on three
persons the mother Edgar and Miriam To the mother he went for that sympathy
and that appeal which seemed to draw him out Edgar was his very close friend
And to Miriam he more or less condescended because she seemed so humble
But the girl gradually sought him out If he brought up his sketchbook it
was she who pondered longest over the last picture Then she would look up at
him Suddenly her dark eyes alight like water that shakes with a stream of gold
in the dark she would ask
»Why do I like this so«
Always something in his breast shrank from these close intimate dazzled
looks of hers
»Why do you« he asked
»I dont know It seems so true«
»Its because its because there is scarcely any shadow in it its more
shimmery as if Id painted the shimmering protoplasm in the leaves and
everywhere and not the stiffness of the shape That seems dead to me Only this
shimmeriness is the real living The shape is a dead crust The shimmer is
inside really«
And she with her little finger in her mouth would ponder these sayings
They gave her a feeling of life again and vivified things which had meant
nothing to her She managed to find some meaning in his struggling abstract
speeches And they were the medium through which she came distinctly at her
beloved objects
Another day she sat at sunset whilst he was painting some pinetrees which
caught the red glare from the west He had been quiet
»There you are« he said suddenly »I wanted that Now look at them and
tell me are they pine trunks or are they red coals standingup pieces of fire
in that darkness Theres Gods burning bush for you that burned not away«
Miriam looked and was frightened But the pine trunks were wonderful to
her and distinct He packed his box and rose Suddenly he looked at her
»Why are you always sad« he asked her
»Sad« she exclaimed looking up at him with startled wonderful brown eyes
»Yes« he replied »You are always sad«
»I am not oh not a bit« she cried
»But even your joy is like a flame coming off of sadness« he persisted
»Youre never jolly or even just all right«
»No« she pondered »I wonder why«
»Because youre not because youre different inside like a pinetree and
then you flare up but youre not just like an ordinary tree with fidgety
leaves and jolly «
He got tangled up in his own speech but she brooded on it and he had a
strange roused sensation as if his feelings were new She got so near him It
was a strange stimulant
Then sometimes he hated her Her youngest brother was only five He was a
frail lad with immense brown eyes in his quaint fragile face one of
Reynoldss »Choir of Angels« with a touch of elf Often Miriam kneeled to the
child and drew him to her
»Eh my Hubert« she sang in a voice heavy and surcharged with love »Eh
my Hubert«
And folding him in her arms she swayed slightly from side to side with
love her face half lifted her eyes half closed her voice drenched with love
»Dont« said the child uneasy »dont Miriam«
»Yes you love me dont you« she murmured deep in her throat almost as if
she were in a trance and swaying also as if she were swooned in an ecstasy of
love
»Dont« repeated the child a frown on his clear brow
»You love me dont you« she murmured
»What do you make such a fuss for« cried Paul all in suffering because of
her extreme emotion »Why cant you be ordinary with him«
She let the child go and rose and said nothing Her intensity which would
leave no emotion on a normal plane irritated the youth into a frenzy And this
fearful naked contact of her on small occasions shocked him He was used to his
mothers reserve And on such occasions he was thankful in his heart and soul
that he had his mother so sane and wholesome
All the life of Miriams body was in her eyes which were usually dark as a
dark church but could flame with light like a conflagration Her face scarcely
ever altered from its look of brooding She might have been one of the women who
went with Mary when Jesus was dead Her body was not flexible and living She
walked with a swing rather heavily her head bowed forward pondering She was
not clumsy and yet none of her movements seemed quite the movement Often when
wiping the dishes she would stand in bewilderment and chagrin because she had
pulled in two halves a cup or a tumbler It was as if in her fear and
selfmistrust she put too much strength into the effort There was no looseness
or abandon about her Everything was gripped stiff with intensity and her
effort overcharged closed in on itself
She rarely varied from her swinging forward intense walk Occasionally she
ran with Paul down the fields Then her eyes blazed naked in a kind of ecstasy
that frightened him But she was physically afraid If she were getting over a
stile she gripped his hands in a little hard anguish and began to lose her
presence of mind And he could not persuade her to jump from even a small
height Her eyes dilated became exposed and palpitating
»No« she cried half laughing in terror »no«
»You shall« he cried once and jerking her forward he brought her falling
from the fence But her wild »Ah« of pain as if she were losing consciousness
cut him She landed on her feet safely and afterwards had courage in this
respect
She was very much dissatisfied with her lot
»Dont you like being at home« Paul asked her surprised
»Who would« she answered low and intense »What is it Im all day
cleaning what the boys make just as bad in five minutes I dont want to be at
home«
»What do you want then«
»I want to do something I want a chance like anybody else Why should I
because Im a girl be kept at home and not allowed to be anything What chance
have I«
»Chance of what«
»Of knowing anything of learning of doing anything Its not fair
because Im a woman«
She seemed very bitter Paul wondered In his own home Annie was almost glad
to be a girl She had not so much responsibility things were lighter for her
She never wanted to be other than a girl But Miriam almost fiercely wished she
were a man And yet she hated men at the same time
»But its as well to be a woman as a man« he said frowning
»Ha Is it Men have everything«
»I should think women ought to be as glad to be women as men are to be men«
he answered
»No« she shook her head »no Everything the men have«
»But what do you want« he asked
»I want to learn Why should it be that I know nothing«
»What such as mathematics and French«
»Why shouldnt I know mathematics Yes« she cried her eye expanding in a
kind of defiance
»Well you can learn as much as I know« he said »Ill teach you if you
like«
Her eyes dilated She mistrusted him as teacher
»Would you« he asked
Her head had dropped and she was sucking her finger broodingly
»Yes« she said hesitatingly
He used to tell his mother all these things
»Im going to teach Miriam algebra« he said
»Well« replied Mrs Morel »I hope shell get fat on it«
When he went up to the farm on the Monday evening it was drawing twilight
Miriam was just sweeping up the kitchen and was kneeling at the hearth when he
entered Everyone was out but her She looked round at him flushed her dark
eyes shining her fine hair falling about her face
»Hello« she said soft and musical »I knew it was you«
»How«
»I knew your step Nobody treads so quick and firm«
He sat down sighing
»Ready to do some algebra« he asked drawing a little book from his pocket
»But «
He could feel her backing away
»You said you wanted« he insisted
»Tonight though« she faltered
»But I came on purpose And if you want to learn it you must begin«
She took up her ashes in the dustpan and looked at him half tremulously
laughing
»Yes but tonight You see I havent thought of it«
»Well my goodness Take the ashes and come«
He went and sat on the stone bench in the backyard where the big milkcans
were standing tipped up to air The men were in the cowsheds He could hear
the little singsong of the milk spurting into the pails Presently she came
bringing some big greenish apples
»You know you like them« she said
He took a bite
»Sit down« he said with his mouth full
She was shortsighted and peered over his shoulder It irritated him He
gave her the book quickly
»Here« he said »Its only letters for figures You put down a instead of 2
or 6«
They worked he talking she with her head down on the book He was quick
and hasty She never answered Occasionally when he demanded of her »Do you
see« she looked up at him her eyes wide with the halflaugh that comes of
fear »Dont you« he cried
He had been too fast But she said nothing He questioned her more then got
hot It made his blood rouse to see her there as it were at his mercy her
mouth open her eyes dilated with laughter that was afraid apologetic ashamed
Then Edgar came along with two buckets of milk
»Hello« he said »What are you doing«
»Algebra« replied Paul
»Algebra« repeated Edgar curiously Then he passed on with a laugh Paul
took a bite at his forgotten apple looked at the miserable cabbages in the
garden pecked into lace by the fowls and he wanted to pull them up Then he
glanced at Miriam She was poring over the book seemed absorbed in it yet
trembling lest she could not get at it It made him cross She was ruddy and
beautiful Yet her soul seemed to be intensely supplicating The algebrabook
she closed shrinking knowing he was angered and at the same instant he grew
gentle seeing her hurt because she did not understand
But things came slowly to her And when she held herself in a grip seemed
so utterly humble before the lesson it made his blood rouse He stormed at her
got ashamed continued the lesson and grew furious again abusing her She
listened in silence Occasionally very rarely she defended herself Her liquid
dark eyes blazed at him
»You dont give me time to learn it« she said
»All right« he answered throwing the book on the table and lighting a
cigarette Then after a while he went back to her repentant So the lessons
went He was always either in a rage or very gentle
»What do you tremble your soul before it for« he cried »You dont learn
algebra with your blessed soul Cant you look at it with your clear simple
wits«
Often when he went again into the kitchen Mrs Leivers would look at him
reproachfully saying
»Paul dont be so hard on Miriam She may not be quick but Im sure she
tries«
»I cant help it« he said rather pitiably »I go off like it«
»You dont mind me Miriam do you« he asked of the girl later
»No« she reassured him in her beautiful deep tones »no I dont mind«
»Dont mind me its my fault«
But in spite of himself his blood began to boil with her It was strange
that no one else made him in such fury He flared against her Once he threw the
pencil in her face There was a silence She turned her face slightly aside
»I didnt « he began but got no farther feeling weak in all his bones
She never reproached him or was angry with him He was often cruelly ashamed
But still again his anger burst like a bubble surcharged and still when he saw
her eager silent as it were blind face he felt he wanted to throw the pencil
in it and still when he saw her hand trembling and her mouth parted with
suffering his heart was scalded with pain for her And because of the intensity
to which she roused him he sought her
Then he often avoided her and went with Edgar Miriam and her brother were
naturally antagonistic Edgar was a rationalist who was curious and had a sort
of scientific interest in life It was a great bitterness to Miriam to see
herself deserted by Paul for Edgar who seemed so much lower But the youth was
very happy with her elder brother The two men spent afternoons together on the
land or in the loft doing carpentry when it rained And they talked together
or Paul taught Edgar the songs he himself had learned from Annie at the piano
And often all the men Mr Leivers as well had bitter debates on the
nationalizing of the land and similar problems Paul had already heard his
mothers views and as these were as yet his own he argued for her Miriam
attended and took part but was all the time waiting until it should be over and
a personal communication might begin
»After all« she said within herself »if the land were nationalized Edgar
and Paul and I would be just the same« So she waited for the youth to come back
to her
He was studying for his painting He loved to sit at home alone with his
mother at night working and working She sewed or read Then looking up from
his task he would rest his eyes for a moment on her face that was bright with
living warmth and he returned gladly to his work
»I can do my best things when you sit there in your rockingchair mother«
he said
»Im sure« she exclaimed sniffing with mock scepticism But she felt it
was so and her heart quivered with brightness For many hours she sat still
slightly conscious of him labouring away whilst she worked or read her book
And he with all his souls intensity directing his pencil could feel her
warmth inside him like strength They were both very happy so and both
unconscious of it These times that meant so much and which were real living
they almost ignored
He was conscious only when stimulated A sketch finished he always wanted
to take it to Miriam Then he was stimulated into knowledge of the work he had
produced unconsciously In contact with Miriam he gained insight his vision
went deeper From his mother he drew the lifewarmth the strength to produce
Miriam urged this warmth into intensity like a white light
When he returned to the factory the conditions of work were better He had
Wednesday afternoon off to go to the Art School Miss Jordans provision
returning in the evening Then the factory closed at six instead of eight on
Thursday and Friday evenings
One evening in the summer Miriam and he went over the fields by Herods Farm
on their way from the library home So it was only three miles to Willey Farm
There was a yellow glow over the mowinggrass and the sorrelheads burned
crimson Gradually as they walked along the high land the gold in the west
sank down to red the red to crimson and then the chill blue crept up against
the glow
They came out upon the high road to Alfreton which ran white between the
darkening fields There Paul hesitated It was two miles home for him one mile
forward for Miriam They both looked up the road that ran in shadow right under
the glow of the northwest sky On the crest of the hill Selby with its stark
houses and the uppricked headstocks of the pit stood in black silhouette small
against the sky
He looked at his watch
»Nine oclock« he said
The pair stood loth to part hugging their books
»The wood is so lovely now« she said »I wanted you to see it«
He followed her slowly across the road to the white gate
»They grumble so if Im late« he said
»But youre not doing anything wrong« she answered impatiently
He followed her across the nibbled pasture in the dusk There was a coolness
in the wood a scent of leaves of honeysuckle and a twilight The two walked
in silence Night came wonderfully there among the throng of dark treetrunks
He looked round expectant
She wanted to show him a certain wildrose bush she had discovered She knew
it was wonderful And yet till he had seen it she felt it had not come into
her soul Only he could make it her own immortal She was dissatisfied
Dew was already on the paths In the old oakwood a mist was rising and he
hesitated wondering whether one whiteness were a strand of fog or only
campionflowers pallid in a cloud
By the time they came to the pinetrees Miriam was getting very eager and
very tense Her bush might be gone She might not be able to find it and she
wanted it so much Almost passionately she wanted to be with him when he stood
before the flowers They were going to have a communion together something
that thrilled her something holy He was walking beside her in silence They
were very near to each other She trembled and he listened vaguely anxious
Coming to the edge of the wood they saw the sky in front like
motherofpearl and the earth growing dark Somewhere on the outermost branches
of the pinewood the honeysuckle was streaming scent
»Where« he asked
»Down the middle path« she murmured quivering
When they turned the corner of the path she stood still In the wide walk
between the pines gazing rather frightened she could distinguish nothing for
some moments the greying light robbed things of their colour Then she saw her
bush
»Ah« she cried hastening forward
It was very still The tree was tall and straggling It had thrown its
briers over a hawthornbush and its long streamers trailed thick right down to
the grass splashing the darkness everywhere with great spilt stars pure white
In bosses of ivory and in large splashed stars the roses gleamed on the darkness
of foliage and stems and grass Paul and Miriam stood close together silent
and watched Point after point the steady roses shone out to them seeming to
kindle something in their souls The dusk came like smoke around and still did
not put out the roses
Paul looked into Miriams eyes She was pale and expectant with wonder her
lips were parted and her dark eyes lay open to him His look seemed to travel
down into her Her soul quivered It was the communion she wanted He turned
aside as if pained He turned to the bush
»They seem as if they walk like butterflies and shake themselves« he said
She looked at her roses They were white some incurved and holy others
expanded in an ecstasy The tree was dark as a shadow She lifted her hand
impulsively to the flowers she went forward and touched them in worship
»Let us go« he said
There was a cool scent of ivory roses a white virgin scent Something
made him feel anxious and imprisoned The two walked in silence
»Till Sunday« he said quietly and left her and she walked home slowly
feeling her soul satisfied with the holiness of the night He stumbled down the
path And as soon as he was out of the wood in the free open meadow where he
could breathe he started to run as fast as he could It was like a delicious
delirium in his veins
Always when he went with Miriam and it grew rather late he knew his mother
was fretting and getting angry about him why he could not understand As he
went into the house flinging down his cap his mother looked up at the clock
She had been sitting thinking because a chill to her eyes prevented her
reading She could feel Paul being drawn away by this girl And she did not care
for Miriam »She is one of those who will want to suck a mans soul out till he
has none of his own left« she said to herself »and he is just such a gaby as
to let himself be absorbed She will never let him become a man she never
will« So while he was away with Miriam Mrs Morel grew more and more worked
up
She glanced at the clock and said coldly and rather tired
»You have been far enough tonight«
His soul warm and exposed from contact with the girl shrank
»You must have been right home with her« his mother continued
He would not answer Mrs Morel looking at him quickly saw his hair was
damp on his forehead with haste saw him frowning in his heavy fashion
resentfully
»She must be wonderfully fascinating that you cant get away from her but
must go trailing eight miles at this time of night«
He was hurt between the past glamour with Miriam and the knowledge that his
mother fretted He had meant not to say anything to refuse to answer But he
could not harden his heart to ignore his mother
»I do like to talk to her« he answered irritably
»Is there nobody else to talk to«
»You wouldnt say anything if I went with Edgar«
»You know I should You know whoever you went with I should say it was too
far for you to go trailing late at night when youve been to Nottingham
Besides« her voice suddenly flashed into anger and contempt »it is
disgusting bits of lads and girls courting«
»It is not courting« he cried
»I dont know what else you call it«
»Its not Do you think we spoon and do We only talk«
»Till goodness knows what time and distance« was the sarcastic rejoinder
Paul snapped at the laces of his boots angrily
»What are you so mad about« he asked »Because you dont like her«
»I dont say I dont like her But I dont hold with children keeping
company and never did«
»But you dont mind our Annie going out with Jim Inger«
»Theyve more sense than you two«
»Why«
»Our Annies not one of the deep sort«
He failed to see the meaning of this remark But his mother looked tired
She was never so strong after Williams death and her eyes hurt her
»Well« he said »its so pretty in the country Mr Sleath asked about you
He said hed missed you Are you a bit better«
»I ought to have been in bed a long time ago« she replied
»Why mother you know you wouldnt have gone before quarterpast ten«
»Oh yes I should«
»Oh little woman youd say anything now youre disagreeable with me
wouldnt you«
He kissed her forehead that he knew so well the deep marks between the
brows the rising of the fine hair greying now and the proud setting of the
temples His hand lingered on her shoulder after his kiss Then he went slowly
to bed He had forgotten Miriam he only saw how his mothers hair was lifted
back from her warm broad brow And somehow she was hurt
Then the next time he saw Miriam he said to her
»Dont let me be late tonight not later than ten oclock My mother gets
so upset«
Miriam dropped her head brooding
»Why does she get upset« she asked
»Because she says I oughtnt to be out late when I have to get up early«
»Very well« said Miriam rather quietly with just a touch of a sneer
He resented that And he was usually late again
That there was any love growing between him and Miriam neither of them would
have acknowledged He thought he was too sane for such sentimentality and she
thought herself too lofty They both were late in coming to maturity and
psychical ripeness was much behind even the physical Miriam was exceedingly
sensitive as her mother had always been The slightest grossness made her
recoil almost in anguish Her brothers were brutal but never coarse in speech
The men did all the discussing of farm matters outside But perhaps because of
the continual business of birth and of begetting which goes on upon every farm
Miriam was the more hypersensitive to the matter and her blood was chastened
almost to disgust of the faintest suggestion of such intercourse Paul took his
pitch from her and their intimacy went on in an utterly blanched and chaste
fashion It could never be mentioned that the mare was in foal
When he was nineteen he was earning only twenty shillings a week but he
was happy His painting went well and life went well enough On the Good Friday
he organised a walk to the Hemlock Stone There were three lads of his own age
then Annie and Arthur Miriam and Geoffrey Arthur apprenticed as an
electrician in Nottingham was home for the holiday Morel as usual was up
early whistling and sawing in the yard At seven oclock the family heard him
buy threepennyworth of hotcross buns he talked with gusto to the little girl
who brought them calling her my darling He turned away several boys who came
with more buns telling them they had been kested by a little lass Then Mrs
Morel got up and the family straggled down It was an immense luxury to
everybody this lying in bed just beyond the ordinary time on a weekday And
Paul and Arthur read before breakfast and had the meal unwashed sitting in
their shirtsleeves This was another holiday luxury The room was warm
Everything felt free of care and anxiety There was a sense of plenty in the
house
While the boys were reading Mrs Morel went into the garden They were now
in another house an old one near the Scargill Street home which had been left
soon after William had died Directly came an excited cry from the garden
»Paul Paul come and look«
It was his mothers voice He threw down his book and went out There was a
long garden that ran to a field It was a grey cold day with a sharp wind
blowing out of Derbyshire Two fields away Bestwood began with a jumble of
roofs and red houseends out of which rose the church tower and the spire of
the Congregational Chapel And beyond went woods and hills right away to the
pale grey heights of the Pennine Chain
Paul looked down the garden for his mother Her head appeared among the
young currantbushes
»Come here« she cried
»What for« he answered
»Come and see«
She had been looking at the buds on the currant trees Paul went up
»To think« she said »that here I might never have seen them«
Her son went to her side Under the fence in a little bed was a ravel of
poor grassy leaves such as come from very immature bulbs and three scyllas in
bloom Mrs Morel pointed to the deep blue flowers
»Now just see those« she exclaimed »I was looking at the currant bushes
when thinks I to myself Theres something very blue is it a bit of sugarbag
and there behold you Sugarbag Three glories of the snow and such beauties
But where on earth did they come from«
»I dont know« said Paul
»Well thats a marvel now I thought I knew every weed and blade in this
garden But havent they done well You see that gooseberrybush just shelters
them Not nipped not touched«
He crouched down and turned up the bells of the little blue flowers
»Theyre a glorious colour« he said
»Arent they« she cried »I guess they come from Switzerland where they
say they have such lovely things Fancy them against the snow But where have
they come from They cant have blown here can they«
Then he remembered having set here a lot of little trash of bulbs to mature
»And you never told me« she said
»No I thought Id leave it till they might flower«
»And now you see I might have missed them And Ive never had a glory of
the snow in my garden in my life«
She was full of excitement and elation The garden was an endless joy to
her Paul was thankful for her sake at last to be in a house with a long garden
that went down to a field Every morning after breakfast she went out and was
happy pottering about in it And it was true she knew every weed and blade
Everybody turned up for the walk Food was packed and they set off a
merry delighted party They hung over the wall of the millrace dropped paper
in the water on one side of the tunnel and watched it shoot out on the other
They stood on the footbridge over Boathouse Station and looked at the metals
gleaming coldly
»You should see the Flying Scotsman come through at halfpast six« said
Leonard whose father was a signalman »Lad but she doesnt half buzz« and the
little party looked up the lines one way to London and the other way to
Scotland and they felt the touch of these two magical places
In Ilkeston the colliers were waiting in gangs for the publichouses to
open It was a town of idleness and lounging At Stanton Gate the iron foundry
blazed Over everything there were great discussions At Trowell they crossed
again from Derbyshire into Nottinghamshire They came to the Hemlock Stone at
dinnertime Its field was crowded with folk from Nottingham and Ilkeston
They had expected a venerable and dignified monument They found a little
gnarled twisted stump of rock something like a decayed mushroom standing out
pathetically on the side of a field Leonard and Dick immediately proceeded to
carve their initials LW and RP in the old red sandstone but Paul
desisted because he had read in the newspaper satirical remarks about
initialcarvers who could find no other road to immortality Then all the lads
climbed to the top of the rock to look round
Everywhere in the field below factory girls and lads were eating lunch or
sporting about Beyond was the garden of an old manor It had yewhedges and
thick clumps and borders of yellow crocuses round the lawn
»See« said Paul to Miriam »what a quiet garden«
She saw the dark yews and the golden crocuses then she looked gratefully
He had not seemed to belong to her among all these others he was different then
not her Paul who understood the slighest quiver of her innermost soul but
something else speaking another language than hers How it hurt her and
deadened her very perceptions Only when he came right back to her leaving his
other his lesser self as she thought would she feel alive again And now he
asked her to look at this garden wanting the contact with her again Impatient
of the set in the field she turned to the quiet lawn surrounded by sheaves of
shutup crocuses A feeling of stillness almost of ecstasy came over her It
felt almost as if she were alone with him in this garden
Then he left her again and joined the others Soon they started home Miriam
loitered behind alone She did not fit in with the others she could very
rarely get into human relations with anyone so her friend her companion her
lover was Nature She saw the sun declining wanly In the dusky cold hedgerows
were some red leaves She lingered to gather them tenderly passionately The
love in her fingertips caressed the leaves the passion in her heart came to a
glow upon the leaves
Suddenly she realised she was alone in a strange road and she hurried
forward Turning a corner in the lane she came upon Paul who stood bent over
something his mind fixed on it working away steadily patiently a little
hopelessly She hesitated in her approach to watch
He remained concentrated in the middle of the road Beyond one rift of rich
gold in that colourless grey evening seemed to make him stand out in dark
relief She saw him slender and firm as if the setting sun had given him to
her A deep pain took hold of her and she knew she must love him And she had
discovered him discovered in him a rare potentiality discovered his
loneliness Quivering as at some annunciation she went slowly forward
At last he looked up
»Why« he exclaimed gratefully »have you waited for me«
She saw a deep shadow in his eyes
»What is it« she asked
»The spring broken here« and he showed her where his umbrella was injured
Instantly with some shame she knew he had not done the damage himself but
that Geoffrey was responsible
»It is only an old umbrella isnt it« she asked
She wondered why he who did not usually trouble over trifles made such a
mountain of this molehill
»But it was Williams an my mother cant help but know« he said quietly
still patiently working at the umbrella
The words went through Miriam like a blade This then was the confirmation
of her vision of him She looked at him But there was about him a certain
reserve and she dared not comfort him not even speak softly to him
»Come on« he said »I cant do it« and they went in silence along the
road
That same evening they were walking along under the trees by Nether Green
He was talking to her fretfully seemed to be struggling to convince himself
»You know« he said with an effort »if one person loves the other does«
»Ah« she answered »Like mother said to me when I was little Love begets
love«
»Yes something like that I think it must be«
»I hope so because if it were not love might be a very terrible thing«
she said
»Yes but it is at least with most people« he answered
And Miriam thinking he had assured himself felt strong in herself She
always regarded that sudden coming upon him in the lane as a revelation And
this conversation remained graven in her mind as one of the letters of the law
Now she stood with him and for him When about this time he outraged the
family feeling at Willey Farm by some overbearing insult she stuck to him and
believed he was right And at this time she dreamed dreams of him vivid
unforgettable These dreams came again later on developed to a more subtle
psychological stage
On the Easter Monday the same party took an excursion to Wingfield Manor It
was great excitement to Miriam to catch a train at Sethley Bridge amid all the
bustle of the Bank Holiday crowd They left the train at Alfreton Paul was
interested in the street and in the colliers with their dogs Here was a new
race of miners Miriam did not live till they came to the church They were all
rather timid of entering with their bags of food for fear of being turned out
Leonard a comic thin fellow went first Paul who would have died rather than
be sent back went last The place was decorated for Easter In the font
hundreds of white narcissi seemed to be growing The air was dim and coloured
from the windows and thrilled with a subtle scent of lilies and narcissi In
that atmosphere Miriams soul came into a glow Paul was afraid of the things he
mustnt do and he was sensitive to the feel of the place Miriam turned to him
He answered They were together He would not go beyond the Communionrail She
loved him for that Her soul expanded into prayer beside him He felt the
strange fascination of shadowy religious places All his latent mysticism
quivered into life She was drawn to him He was a prayer along with her
Miriam very rarely talked to the other lads They at once became awkward in
conversation with her So usually she was silent
It was past midday when they climbed the steep path to the manor All things
shone softly in the sun which was wonderfully warm and enlivening Celandines
and violets were out Everybody was tiptop full with happiness The glitter of
the ivy the soft atmospheric grey of the castle walls the gentleness of
everything near the ruin was perfect
The manor is of hard pale grey stone and the other walls are blank and
calm The young folk were in raptures They went in trepidation almost afraid
that the delight of exploring this ruin might be denied them In the first
courtyard within the high broken walls were farmcarts with their shafts
lying idle on the ground the tyres of the wheels brilliant with goldred rust
It was very still
All eagerly paid their sixpences and went timidly through the fine clean
arch of the inner courtyard They were shy Here on the pavement where the hall
had been an old thorn tree was budding All kinds of strange openings and
broken rooms were in the shadow around them
After lunch they set off once more to explore the ruin This time the girls
went with the boys who could act as guides and expositors There was one tall
tower in a corner rather tottering where they say Mary Queen of Scots was
imprisoned
»Think of the Queen going up here« said Miriam in a low voice as she
climbed the hollow stairs
»If she could get up« said Paul »for she had rheumatism like anything I
reckon they treated her rottenly«
»You dont think she deserved it« asked Miriam
»No I dont She was only lively«
They continued to mount the winding staircase A high wind blowing through
the loopholes went rushing up the shaft and filled the girls skirts like a
balloon so that she was ashamed until he took the hem of her dress and held it
down for her He did it perfectly simply as he would have picked up her glove
She remembered this always
Round the broken top of the tower the ivy bushed out old and handsome
Also there were a few chill gillivers in pale cold bud Miriam wanted to lean
over for some ivy but he would not let her Instead she had to wait behind
him and take from him each spray as he gathered it and held it to her each one
separately in the purest manner of chivalry The tower seemed to rock in the
wind They looked over miles and miles of wooded country and country with
gleams of pasture
The crypt underneath the manor was beautiful and in perfect preservation
Paul made a drawing Miriam stayed with him She was thinking of Mary Queen of
Scots looking with her strained hopeless eyes that could not understand
misery over the hills whence no help came or sitting in this crypt being told
of a God as cold as the place she sat in
They set off again gaily looking round on their beloved manor that stood so
clean and big on its hill
»Supposing you could have that farm« said Paul to Miriam
»Yes«
»Wouldnt it be lovely to come and see you«
They were now in the bare country of stone walls which he loved and which
though only ten miles from home seemed so foreign to Miriam The party was
straggling As they were crossing a large meadow that sloped away from the sun
along a path embedded with innumerable tiny glittering points Paul walking
alongside laced his fingers in the strings of the bag Miriam was carrying and
instantly she felt Annie behind watchful and jealous But the meadow was bathed
in a glory of sunshine and the path was jewelled and it was seldom that he
gave her any sign She held her fingers very still among the strings of the bag
his fingers touching and the place was golden as a vision
At last they came into the straggling grey village of Crich that lies high
Beyond the village was the famous Crich Stand that Paul could see from the
garden at home The party pushed on Great expanse of country spread around and
below The lads were eager to get to the top of the hill It was capped by a
round knoll half of which was by now cut away and on the top of which stood an
ancient monument sturdy and squat for signalling in old days far down into the
level lands of Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire
It was blowing so hard high up there in the exposed place that the only
way to be safe was to stand nailed by the wind to the wall of the tower At
their feet fell the precipice where the limestone was quarried away Below was a
jumble of hills and tiny villages Matlock Ambergate Stoney Middleton The
lads were eager to spy out the church of Bestwood far away among the rather
crowded country on the left They were disgusted that it seemed to stand on a
plain They saw the hills of Derbyshire fall into the monotony of the Midlands
that swept away South
Miriam was somewhat scared by the wind but the lads enjoyed it They went
on miles and miles to Whatstandwell All the food was eaten everybody was
hungry and there was very little money to get home with But they managed to
procure a loaf and a currantloaf which they hacked to pieces with shutknives
and ate sitting on the wall near the bridge watching the bright Derwent rushing
by and the brakes from Matlock pulling up at the inn
Paul was now pale with weariness He had been responsible for the party all
day and now he was done Miriam understood and kept close to him and he left
himself in her hands
They had an hour to wait at Ambergate Station Trains came crowded with
excursionists returning to Manchester Birmingham and London
»We might be going there folk easily might think were going that far«
said Paul
They got back rather late Miriam walking home with Geoffrey watched the
moon rise big and red and misty She felt something was fulfilled in her
She had an elder sister Agatha who was a schoolteacher Between the two
girls was a feud Miriam considered Agatha worldly And she wanted herself to be
a schoolteacher
One Saturday afternoon Agatha and Miriam were upstairs dressing Their
bedroom was over the stable It was a low room not very large and bare Miriam
had nailed on the wall a reproduction of Veroneses »St Catherine« She loved
the woman who sat in the window dreaming Her own windows were too small to sit
in But the front one was dripped over with honeysuckle and virginia creeper
and looked upon the treetops of the oakwood across the yard while the little
back window no bigger than a handkerchief was a loophole to the east to the
dawn beating up against the beloved round hills
The two sisters did not talk much to each other Agatha who was fair and
small and determined had rebelled against the home atmosphere against the
doctrine of the other cheek She was out in the world now in a fair way to be
independent And she insisted on worldly values on appearance on manners on
position which Miriam would fain have ignored
Both girls liked to be upstairs out of the way when Paul came They
preferred to come running down open the stairfoot door and see him watching
expectant of them Miriam stood painfully pulling over her head a rosary he had
given her It caught in the fine mesh of her hair But at last she had it on
and the redbrown wooden beads looked well against her cool brown neck She was
a welldeveloped girl and very handsome But in the little lookingglass nailed
against the whitewashed wall she could only see a fragment of herself at a time
Agatha had bought a little mirror of her own which she propped up to suit
herself Miriam was near the window Suddenly she heard the wellknown click of
the chain and she saw Paul fling open the gate push his bicycle into the yard
She saw him look at the house and she shrank away He walked in a nonchalant
fashion and his bicycle went with him as if it were a live thing
»Pauls come« she exclaimed
»Arent you glad« said Agatha cuttingly
Miriam stood still in amazement and bewilderment
»Well arent you« she asked
»Yes but Im not going to let him see it and think I wanted him«
Miriam was startled She heard him putting his bicycle in the stable
underneath and talking to Jimmy who had been a pithorse and who was seedy
»Well Jimmy my lad how are ter Nobbut sick an sadly like Why then
its a shame my owd lad«
She heard the rope run through the hole as the horse lifted its head from
the lads caress How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could
hear But there was a serpent in her Eden She searched earnestly in herself to
see if she wanted Paul Morel She felt there would be some disgrace in it Full
of twisted feeling she was afraid she did want him She stood selfconvicted
Then came an agony of new shame She shrank within herself in a coil of torture
Did she want Paul Morel and did he know she wanted him What a subtle infamy
upon her She felt as if her whole soul coiled into knots of shame
Agatha was dressed first and ran downstairs Miriam heard her greet the lad
gaily knew exactly how brilliant her grey eyes became with that tone She
herself would have felt it bold to have greeted him in such wise Yet there she
stood under the self-accusation of wanting him tied to that stake of torture
In bitter perplexity she kneeled down and prayed
»O Lord let me not love Paul Morel Keep me from loving him if I ought not
to love him«
Something anomalous in the prayer arrested her She lifted her head and
pondered How could it be wrong to love him Love was Gods gift And yet it
caused her shame That was because of him Paul Morel But then it was not his
affair it was her own between herself and God She was to be a sacrifice But
it was Gods sacrifice not Paul Morels or her own After a few minutes she hid
her face in the pillow again and said
»But Lord if it is Thy will that I should love him make me love him as
Christ would who died for the souls of men Make me love him splendidly
because he is Thy son«
She remained kneeling for some time quite still and deeply moved her
black hair against the red squares and the lavendersprigged squares of the
patchwork quilt Prayer was almost essential to her Then she fell into that
rapture of self-sacrifice identifying herself with a God who was sacrificed
which gives to so many human souls their deepest bliss
When she went downstairs Paul was lying back in an armchair holding forth
with much vehemence to Agatha who was scorning a little painting he had brought
to show her Miriam glanced at the two and avoided their levity She went into
the parlour to be alone
It was teatime before she was able to speak to Paul and then her manner
was so distant he thought he had offended her
Miriam discontinued her practice of going each Thursday evening to the
library in Bestwood After calling for Paul regularly during the whole spring a
number of trifling incidents and tiny insults from his family awakened her to
their attitude towards her and she decided to go no more So she announced to
Paul one evening she would not call at his house again for him on Thursday
nights
»Why« he asked very short
»Nothing Only Id rather not«
»Very well«
»But« she faltered »if youd care to meet me we could still go together«
»Meet you where«
»Somewhere where you like«
»I shant meet you anywhere I dont see why you shouldnt keep calling for
me But if you wont I dont want to meet you«
So the Thursday evenings which had been so precious to her and to him were
dropped He worked instead Mrs Morel sniffed with satisfaction at this
arrangement
He would not have it that they were lovers The intimacy between them had
been kept so abstract such a matter of the soul all thought and weary struggle
into consciousness that he saw it only as a platonic friendship He stoutly
denied there was anything else between them Miriam was silent or else she very
quietly agreed He was a fool who did not know what was happening to himself By
tacit agreement they ignored the remarks and insinuations of their
acquaintances
»We arent lovers we are friends« he said to her »We know it Let them
talk What does it matter what they say«
Sometimes as they were walking together she slipped her arm timidly into
his But he always resented it and she knew it It caused a violent conflict in
him With Miriam he was always on the high plane of abstraction when his
natural fire of love was transmitted into the fine stream of thought She would
have it so If he were jolly and as she put it flippant she waited till he
came back to her till the change had taken place in him again and he was
wrestling with his own soul frowning passionate in his desire for
understanding And in this passion for understanding her soul lay close to his
she had him all to herself But he must be made abstract first
Then if she put her arm in his it caused him almost torture His
consciousness seemed to split The place where she was touching him ran hot with
friction He was one internecine battle and he became cruel to her because of
it
One evening in midsummer Miriam called at the house warm from climbing
Paul was alone in the kitchen his mother could be heard moving about upstairs
»Come and look at the sweetpeas« he said to the girl
They went into the garden The sky behind the townlet and the church was
orangered the flowergarden was flooded with a strange warm light that lifted
every leaf into significance Paul passed along a fine row of sweetpeas
gathering a blossom here and there all cream and pale blue Miriam followed
breathing the fragrance To her flowers appealed with such strength she felt
she must make them part of herself When she bent and breathed a flower it was
as if she and the flower were loving each other Paul hated her for it There
seemed a sort of exposure about the action something too intimate
When he had got a fair bunch they returned to the house He listened for a
moment to his mothers quiet movement upstairs then he said
»Come here and let me pin them in for you« He arranged them two or three
at a time in the bosom of her dress stepping back now and then to see the
effect »You know« he said taking the pin out of his mouth »a woman ought
always to arrange her flowers before her glass«
Miriam laughed She thought flowers ought to be pinned in ones dress
without any care That Paul should take pains to fix her flowers for her was his
whim
He was rather offended at her laughter
»Some women do those who look decent« he said
Miriam laughed again but mirthlessly to hear him thus mix her up with
women in a general way From most men she would have ignored it But from him it
hurt her
He had nearly finished arranging the flowers when he heard his mothers
footstep on the stairs Hurriedly he pushed in the last pin and turned away
»Dont let mater know« he said
Miriam picked up her books and stood in the doorway looking with chagrin at
the beautiful sunset She would call for Paul no more she said
»Goodevening Mrs Morel« she said in a deferential way She sounded as
if she felt she had no right to be there
»Oh is it you Miriam« replied Mrs Morel coolly
But Paul insisted on everybodys accepting his friendship with the girl and
Mrs Morel was too wise to have any open rupture
It was not till he was twenty years old that the family could ever afford to
go away for a holiday Mrs Morel had never been away for a holiday except to
see her sister since she had been married Now at last Paul had saved enough
money and they were all going There was to be a party some of Annies
friends one friend of Pauls a young man in the same office where William had
previously been and Miriam
It was great excitement writing for rooms Paul and his mother debated it
endlessly between them They wanted a furnished cottage for two weeks She
thought one week would be enough but he insisted on two
At last they got an answer from Mablethorpe a cottage such as they wished
for thirty shillings a week There was immense jubilation Paul was wild with
joy for his mothers sake She would have a real holiday now He and she sat at
evening picturing what it would be like Annie came in and Leonard and Alice
and Kitty There was wild rejoicing and anticipation Paul told Miriam She
seemed to brood with joy over it But the Morels house rang with excitement
They were to go on Saturday morning by the seven train Paul suggested that
Miriam should sleep at his house because it was so far for her to walk She
came down for supper Everybody was so excited that even Miriam was accepted
with warmth But almost as soon as she entered the feeling in the family became
close and tight He had discovered a poem by Jean Ingelow which mentioned
Mablethorpe and so he must read it to Miriam He would never have got so far in
the direction of sentimentality as to read poetry to his own family But now
they condescended to listen Miriam sat on the sofa absorbed in him She always
seemed absorbed in him and by him when he was present Mrs Morel sat
jealously in her own chair She was going to hear also And even Annie and the
father attended Morel with his head cocked on one side like somebody listening
to a sermon and feeling conscious of the fact Paul ducked his head over the
book He had got now all the audience he cared for And Mrs Morel and Annie
almost contested with Miriam who should listen best and win his favour He was
in very high feather
»But« interrupted Mrs Morel »what is the Bride of Enderby that the bells
are supposed to ring«
»Its an old tune they used to play on the bells for a warning against
water I suppose the Bride of Enderby was drowned in a flood« he replied He
had not the faintest knowledge what it really was but he would never have sunk
so low as to confess that to his womenfolk They listened and believed him He
believed himself
»And the people knew what that tune meant« said his mother
»Yes just like the Scotch when they heard The Flowers o the Forest and
when they used to ring the bells backward for alarm«
»How« said Annie »A bell sounds the same whether its rung backwards or
forwards«
»But« he said »if you start with the deep bell and ring up to the high one
der der der der der der der der«
He ran up the scale Everybody thought it clever He thought so too Then
waiting a minute he continued the poem
»Hm« said Mrs Morel curiously when he finished »But I wish everything
thats written werent so sad«
»I canna see what they want drownin theirselves for« said Morel
There was a pause Annie got up to clear the table
Miriam rose to help with the pots
»Let me help to wash up« she said
»Certainly not« cried Annie »You sit down again There arent many«
And Miriam who could not be familiar and insist sat down again to look at
the book with Paul
He was master of the party his father was no good And great tortures he
suffered lest the tin box should be put out at Firsby instead of at Mablethorpe
And he wasnt equal to getting a carriage His bold little mother did that
»Here« she cried to a man »Here«
Paul and Annie got behind the rest convulsed with shamed laughter
»How much will it be to drive to Brook Cottage« said Mrs Morel
»Two shillings«
»Why how far is it«
»A good way«
»I dont believe it« she said
But she scrambled in There were eight crowded in one old seaside carriage
»You see« said Mrs Morel »its only threepence each and if it were a
tramcar «
They drove along Each cottage they came to Mrs Morel cried
»Is it this Now this is it«
Everybody sat breathless They drove past There was a universal sigh
»Im thankful it wasnt that brute« said Mrs Morel »I was frightened«
They drove on and on
At last they descended at a house that stood alone over the dyke by the
highroad There was wild excitement because they had to cross a little bridge to
get into the front garden But they loved the house that lay so solitary with a
seameadow on one side and immense expanse of land patched in white barley
yellow oats red wheat and green rootcrops flat and stretching level to the
sky
Paul kept accounts He and his mother ran the show The total expenses
lodging food everything was sixteen shillings a week per person He and
Leonard went bathing in the morning Morel was wandering abroad quite early
»You Paul« his mother called from the bedroom »eat a piece of
breadandbutter«
»All right« he answered
And when he got back he saw his mother presiding in state at the
breakfasttable The woman of the house was young Her husband was blind and
she did laundry work So Mrs Morel always washed the pots in the kitchen and
made the beds
»But you said youd have a real holiday« said Paul »and now you work«
»Work« she exclaimed »What are you talking about«
He loved to go with her across the fields to the village and the sea She
was afraid of the plank bridge and he abused her for being a baby On the whole
he stuck to her as if he were her man
Miriam did not get much of him except perhaps when all the others went to
the Coons Coons were insufferably stupid to Miriam so he thought they were to
himself also and he preached priggishly to Annie about the fatuity of listening
to them Yet he too knew all their songs and sang them along the roads
roisterously And if he found himself listening the stupidity pleased him very
much Yet to Annie he said
»Such rot there isnt a grain of intelligence in it Nobody with more
gumption than a grasshopper could go and sit and listen« And to Miriam he said
with much scorn of Annie and the others »I suppose theyre at the Coons«
It was queer to see Miriam singing coon songs She had a straight chin that
went in a perpendicular line from the lower lip to the turn She always reminded
Paul of some sad Botticelli angel when she sang even when it was
»Come down lovers lane
For a walk with me talk with me«
Only when he sketched or at evening when the others were at the Coons she had
him to herself He talked to her endlessly about his love of horizontals how
they the great levels of sky and land in Lincolnshire meant to him the
eternality of the will just as the bowed Norman arches of the church repeating
themselves meant the dogged leaping forward of the persistent human soul on
and on nobody knows where in contradiction to the perpendicular lines and to
the Gothic arch which he said leapt up at heaven and touched the ecstasy and
lost itself in the divine Himself he said was Norman Miriam was Gothic She
bowed in consent even to that
One evening he and she went up the great sweeping shore of sand towards
Theddlethorpe The long breakers plunged and ran in a hiss of foam along the
coast It was a warm evening There was not a figure but themselves on the far
reaches of sand no noise but the sound of the sea Paul loved to see it
clanging at the land He loved to feel himself between the noise of it and the
silence of the sandy shore Miriam was with him Everything grew very intense
It was quite dark when they turned again The way home was through a gap in the
sandhills and then along a raised grass road between two dykes The country was
black and still From behind the sandhills came the whisper of the sea Paul
and Miriam walked in silence Suddenly he started The whole of his blood seemed
to burst into flame and he could scarcely breathe An enormous orange moon was
staring at them from the rim of the sandhills He stood still looking at it
»Ah« cried Miriam when she saw it
He remained perfectly still staring at the immense and ruddy moon the only
thing in the farreaching darkness of the level His heart beat heavily the
muscles of his arms contracted
»What is it« murmured Miriam waiting for him
He turned and looked at her She stood beside him for ever in shadow Her
face covered with the darkness of her hat was watching him unseen But she was
brooding She was slightly afraid deeply moved and religious That was her
best state He was impotent against it His blood was concentrated like a flame
in his chest But he could not get across to her There were flashes in his
blood But somehow she ignored them She was expecting some religious state in
him Still yearning she was half aware of his passion and gazed at him
troubled
»What is it« she murmured again
»Its the moon« he answered frowning
»Yes« she assented »Isnt it wonderful« She was curious about him The
crisis was past
He did not know himself what was the matter He was naturally so young and
their intimacy was so abstract he did not know he wanted to crush her on to his
breast to ease the ache there He was afraid of her The fact that he might want
her as a man wants a woman had in him been suppressed into a shame When she
shrank in her convulsed coiled torture from the thought of such a thing he had
winced to the depths of his soul And now this purity prevented even their first
lovekiss It was as if she could scarcely stand the shock of physical love
even a passionate kiss and then he was too shrinking and sensitive to give it
As they walked along the dark fenmeadow he watched the moon and did not
speak She plodded beside him He hated her for she seemed in some way to make
him despise himself Looking ahead he saw the one light in the darkness the
window of their lamplit cottage
He loved to think of his mother and the other jolly people »Well
everybody else has been in long ago« said his mother as they entered
»What does that matter« he cried irritably »I can go a walk if I like
cant I«
»And I should have thought you could get in to supper with the rest« said
Mrs Morel
»I shall please myself« he retorted »Its not late I shall do as I like«
»Very well« said his mother cuttingly »then do as you like« And she took
no further notice of him that evening Which he pretended neither to notice nor
to care about but sat reading Miriam read also obliterating herself Mrs
Morel hated her for making her son like this She watched Paul growing
irritable priggish and melancholic For this she put the blame on Miriam
Annie and all her friends joined against the girl Miriam had no friend of her
own only Paul But she did not suffer so much because she despised the
triviality of these other people
And Paul hated her because somehow she spoilt his ease and naturalness
And he writhed himself with a feeling of humiliation
Chapter VIII
Strife in Love
Arthur finished his apprenticeship and got a job on the electrical plant at
Minton Pit He earned very little but had a good chance of getting on But he
was wild and restless He did not drink nor gamble Yet he somehow contrived to
get into endless scrapes always through some hotheaded thoughtlessness Either
he went rabbiting in the woods like a poacher or he stayed in Nottingham all
night instead of coming home or he miscalculated his dive into the canal at
Bestwood and scored his chest into one mass of wounds on the raw stones and
tins at the bottom
He had not been at his work many months when again he did not come home one
night
»Do you know where Arthur is« asked Paul at breakfast
»I do not« replied his mother
»He is a fool« said Paul »And if he did anything I shouldnt mind But no
he simply cant come away from a game of whist or else he must see a girl home
from the skatingrink quite proprietously and so cant get home Hes a
fool«
»I dont know that it would make it any better if he did something to make
us all ashamed« said Mrs Morel
»Well I should respect him more« said Paul
»I very much doubt it« said his mother coldly
They went on with breakfast
»Are you fearfully fond of him« Paul asked his mother
»What do you ask that for«
»Because they say a woman always like the youngest best«
»She may do but I dont No he wearies me«
»And youd actually rather he was good«
»Id rather he showed some of a mans common sense«
Paul was raw and irritable He also wearied his mother very often She saw
the sunshine going out of him and she resented it
As they were finishing breakfast came the postman with a letter from Derby
Mrs Morel screwed up her eyes to look at the address
»Give it here blind eye« exclaimed her son snatching it away from her
She started and almost boxed his ears
»Its from your son Arthur« he said
»What now « cried Mrs Morel
»My dearest Mother« Paul read »I dont know what made me such a fool I
want you to come and fetch me back from here I came with Jack Bredon yesterday
instead of going to work and enlisted He said he was sick of wearing the seat
of a stool out and like the idiot you know I am I came away with him
I have taken the Kings shilling but perhaps if you came for me they would
let me go back with you I was a fool when I did it I dont want to be in the
army My dear mother I am nothing but a trouble to you But if you get me out
of this I promise I will have more sense and consideration «
Mrs Morel sat down in her rockingchair
»Well now« she cried »let him stop«
»Yes« said Paul »let him stop«
There was silence The mother sat with her hands folded in her apron her
face set thinking
»If Im not sick« she cried suddenly »Sick«
»Now« said Paul beginning to frown »youre not going to worry your soul
out about this do you hear«
»I suppose Im to take it as a blessing« she flashed turning on her son
»Youre not going to mount it up to a tragedy so there« he retorted
»The fool the young fool« she cried
»Hell look well in uniform« said Paul irritatingly
His mother turned on him like a fury
»Oh will he« she cried »Not in my eyes«
»He should get in a cavalry regiment hell have the time of his life and
will look an awful swell«
»Swell swell a mighty swell idea indeed a common soldier«
»Well« said Paul »what am I but a common clerk«
»A good deal my boy« cried his mother stung
»What«
»At any rate a man and not a thing in a red coat«
»I shouldnt mind being in a red coat or dark blue that would suit me
better if they didnt boss me about too much«
But his mother had ceased to listen
»Just as he was getting on or might have been getting on at his job a
young nuisance here he goes and ruins himself for life What good will he be
do you think after this«
»It may lick him into shape beautifully« said Paul
»Lick him into shape lick what marrow there was out of his bones A
soldier a common soldier nothing but a body that makes movements when it
hears a shout Its a fine thing«
»I cant understand why it upsets you« said Paul
»No perhaps you cant But I understand« and she sat back in her chair
her chin in one hand holding her elbow with the other brimmed up with wrath
and chagrin
»And shall you go to Derby« asked Paul
»Yes«
»Its no good«
»Ill see for myself«
»And why on earth dont you let him stop Its just what he wants«
»Of course« cried the mother »you know what he wants«
She got ready and went by the first train to Derby where she saw her son
and the sergeant It was however no good
When Morel was having his dinner in the evening she said suddenly
»Ive had to go to Derby today«
The miner turned up his eyes showing the whites in his black face
»Has ter lass What took thee there«
»That Arthur«
»Oh an whats agate now«
»Hes only enlisted«
Morel put down his knife and leaned back in his chair
»Nay« he said »that he niver as«
»And is going down to Aldershot tomorrow«
»Well« exclaimed the miner »Thats a winder« He considered it a moment
said »Hm« and proceeded with his dinner Suddenly his face contracted with
wrath »I hope he may never set foot i my house again« he said
»The idea« cried Mrs Morel »Saying such a thing«
»I do« repeated Morel »A fool as runs away for a soldier let im look
after issen I sll do no more for im«
»A fat sight you have done as it is« she said
And Morel was almost ashamed to go to his publichouse that evening
»Well did you go« said Paul to his mother when he came home
»I did«
»And could you see him«
»Yes«
»And what did he say«
»He blubbered when I came away«
»Hm«
»And so did I so you neednt hm«
Mrs Morel fretted after her son She knew he would not like the army He
did not The discipline was intolerable to him
»But the doctor« she said with some pride to Paul »said he was perfectly
proportioned almost exactly all his measurements were correct He is
goodlooking you know«
»Hes awfully nicelooking But he doesnt fetch the girls like William
does he«
»No its a different character Hes a good deal like his father
irresponsible«
To console his mother Paul did not go much to Willey Farm at this time And
in the autumn exhibition of students work in the Castle he had two studies a
landscape in watercolour and a still life in oil both of which had firstprize
awards He was highly excited
»What do you think Ive got for my pictures mother« he asked coming home
one evening She saw by his eyes he was glad Her face flushed
»Now how should I know my boy«
»A first prize for those glass jars «
»Hm«
»And a first prize for that sketch up at Willey Farm«
»Both first«
»Yes«
»Hm«
There was a rosy bright look about her though she said nothing
»Its nice« he said »isnt it«
»It is«
»Why dont you praise me up to the skies«
She laughed
»I should have the trouble of dragging you down again« she said
But she was full of joy nevertheless William had brought her his sporting
trophies She kept them still and she did not forgive his death Arthur was
handsome at least a good specimen and warm and generous and probably would
do well in the end But Paul was going to distinguish himself She had a great
belief in him the more because he was unaware of his own powers There was so
much to come out of him Life for her was rich with promise She was to see
herself fulfilled Not for nothing had been her struggle
Several times during the exhibition Mrs Morel went to the Castle unknown to
Paul She wandered down the long room looking at the other exhibits Yes they
were good But they had not in them a certain something which she demanded for
her satisfaction Some made her jealous they were so good She looked at them a
long time trying to find fault with them Then suddenly she had a shock that
made her heart beat There hung Pauls picture She knew it as if it were
printed on her heart
»Name Paul Morel First Prize«
It looked so strange there in public on the walls of the Castle gallery
where in her lifetime she had seen so many pictures And she glanced round to
see if anyone had noticed her again in front of the same sketch
But she felt a proud woman When she met welldressed ladies going home to
the Park she thought to herself
»Yes you look very well but I wonder if your son has two first prizes in
the Castle«
And she walked on as proud a little woman as any in Nottingham And Paul
felt he had done something for her if only a trifle All his work was hers
One day as he was going up Castle Gate he met Miriam He had seen her on
the Sunday and had not expected to meet her in town She was walking with a
rather striking woman blonde with a sullen expression and a defiant carriage
It was strange how Miriam in her bowed meditative bearing looked dwarfed
beside this woman with the handsome shoulders Miriam watched Paul searchingly
His gaze was on the stranger who ignored him The girl saw his masculine spirit
rear its head
»Hello« he said »you didnt tell me you were coming to town«
»No« replied Miriam half apologetically »I drove in to Cattle Market with
father«
He looked at her companion
»Ive told you about Mrs Dawes« said Miriam huskily she was nervous
»Clara do you know Paul«
»I think Ive seen him before« replied Mrs Dawes indifferently as she
shook hands with him She had scornful grey eyes a skin like white honey and a
full mouth with a slightly lifted upper lip that did not know whether it was
raised in scorn of all men or out of eagerness to be kissed but which believed
the former. She carried her head back as if she had drawn away in contempt
perhaps from men also She wore a large dowdy hat of black beaver and a sort
of slightly affected simple dress that made her look rather sacklike She was
evidently poor and had not much taste Miriam usually looked nice
»Where have you seen me« Paul asked of the woman
She looked at him as if she would not trouble to answer Then
»Walking with Louie Travers« she said
Louie was one of the Spiral girls
»Why do you know her« he asked
She did not answer He turned to Miriam
»Where are you going« he asked
»To the Castle«
»What train are you going home by«
»I am driving with father I wish you could come too What time are you
free«
»You know not till eight tonight damn it«
And directly the two women moved on
Paul remembered that Clara Dawes was the daughter of an old friend of Mrs
Leivers Miriam had sought her out because she had once been Spiral overseer at
Jordans and because her husband Baxter Dawes was smith for the factory
making the irons for cripple instruments and so on Through her Miriam felt she
got into direct contact with Jordans and could estimate better Pauls
position But Mrs Dawes was separated from her husband and had taken up
Womens Rights She was supposed to be clever It interested Paul
Baxter Dawes he knew and disliked The smith was a man of thirtyone or
thirtytwo He came occasionally through Pauls corner a big wellset man
also striking to look at and handsome There was a peculiar similarity between
himself and his wife He had the same white skin with a clear golden tinge
His hair was of soft brown his moustache was golden And he had a similar
defiance in his bearing and manner But then came the difference His eyes dark
brown and quickshifting were dissolute They protruded very slightly and his
eyelids hung over them in a way that was half hate His mouth too was sensual
His whole manner was of cowed defiance as if he were ready to knock anybody
down who disapproved of him perhaps because he really disapproved of himself
From the first day he had hated Paul Finding the lads impersonal
deliberate gaze of an artist on his face he got into a fury
»What are yer lookin at« he sneered bullying
The boy glanced away But the smith used to stand behind the counter and
talk to Mr Pappleworth His speech was dirty with a kind of rottenness Again
he found the youth with his cool critical gaze fixed on his face The smith
started round as if he had been stung
»Whatr yer lookin at three haporth o pap« he snarled
The boy shrugged his shoulders slightly
»Why yer « shouted Dawes
»Leave him alone« said Mr Pappleworth in that insinuating voice which
means »Hes only one of your good little sops who cant help it«
Since that time the boy used to look at the man every time he came through
with the same curious criticism glancing away before he met the smiths eye It
made Dawes furious They hated each other in silence
Clara Dawes had no children When she had left her husband the home had been
broken up and she had gone to live with her mother Dawes lodged with his
sister In the same house was a sisterinlaw and somehow Paul knew that this
girl Louie Travers was now Dawess woman She was a handsome insolent hussy
who mocked at the youth and yet flushed if he walked along to the station with
her as she went home
The next time he went to see Miriam it was Saturday evening She had a fire
in the parlour and was waiting for him The others except her father and
mother and the young children had gone out so the two had the parlour
together It was a long low warm room There were three of Pauls small
sketches on the wall and his photo was on the mantelpiece On the table and on
the high old rosewood piano were bowls of coloured leaves He sat in the
armchair she crouched on the hearthrug near his feet The glow was warm on her
handsome pensive face as she kneeled there like a devotee
»What did you think of Mrs Dawes« she asked quietly
»She doesnt look very amiable« he replied
»No but dont you think shes a fine woman« she said in a deep tone
»Yes in stature But without a grain of taste I like her for some things
Is she disagreeable«
»I dont think so I think shes dissatisfied«
»What with«
»Well how would you like to be tied for life to a man like that«
»Why did she marry him then if she was to have revulsions so soon«
»Ay why did she« repeated Miriam bitterly
»And I should have thought she had enough fight in her to match him« he
said
Miriam bowed her head
»Ay« she queried satirically »What makes you think so«
»Look at her mouth made for passion and the very setback of her throat
« He threw his head back in Claras defiant manner
Miriam bowed a little lower
»Yes« she said
There was a silence for some moments while he thought of Clara
»And what were the things you liked about her« she asked
»I dont know her skin and the texture of her and her I dont know
theres a sort of fierceness somewhere in her I appreciate her as an artist
thats all«
»Yes«
He wondered why Miriam crouched there brooding in that strange way It
irritated him
»You dont really like her do you« he asked the girl
She looked at him with her great dazzled dark eyes
»I do« she said
»You dont you cant not really«
»Then what« she asked slowly
»Eh I dont know perhaps you like her because shes got a grudge against
men«
That was more probably one of his own reasons for liking Mrs Dawes but
this did not occur to him They were silent There had come into his forehead a
knitting of the brows which was becoming habitual with him particularly when he
was with Miriam She longed to smooth it away and she was afraid of it It
seemed the stamp of a man who was not her man in Paul Morel
There were some crimson berries among the leaves in the bowl He reached
over and pulled out a bunch
»If you put red berries in your hair« he said »why would you look like
some witch or priestess and never like a reveller«
She laughed with a naked painful sound
»I dont know« she said
His vigorous warm hands were playing excitedly with the berries
»Why cant you laugh« he said »You never laugh laughter You only laugh
when something is odd or incongruous and then it almost seems to hurt you«
She bowed her head as if he were scolding her
»I wish you could laugh at me just for one minute just for one minute I
feel as if it would set something free«
»But« and she looked up at him with eyes frightened and struggling »I do
laugh at you I do«
»Never Theres always a kind of intensity When you laugh I could always
cry it seems as if it shows up your suffering Oh you make me knit the brows
of my very soul and cogitate«
Slowly she shook her head despairingly
»Im sure I dont want to« she said
»Im so damned spiritual with you always« he cried
She remained silent thinking »Then why dont you be otherwise« But he saw
her crouching brooding figure and it seemed to tear him in two
»But there its autumn« he said »and everybody feels like a disembodied
spirit then«
There was still another silence This peculiar sadness between them thrilled
her soul He seemed so beautiful with his eyes gone dark and looking as if they
were deep as the deepest well
»You make me so spiritual« he lamented »And I dont want to be spiritual«
She took her finger from her mouth with a little pop and looked up at him
almost challenging But still her soul was naked in her great dark eyes and
there was the same yearning appeal upon her If he could have kissed her in
abstract purity he would have done so But he could not kiss her thus and she
seemed to leave no other way And she yearned to him
He gave a brief laugh
»Well« he said »get that French and well do some some Verlaine«
»Yes« she said in a deep tone almost of resignation And she rose and got
the books And her rather red nervous hands looked so pitiful he was mad to
comfort her and kiss her But then he dared not or could not There was
something prevented him His kisses were wrong for her They continued the
reading till ten oclock when they went into the kitchen and Paul was natural
and jolly again with the father and mother His eyes were dark and shining
there was a kind of fascination about him
When he went into the barn for his bicycle he found the front wheel
punctured
»Fetch me a drop of water in a bowl« he said to her »I shall be late and
then I sll catch it«
He lighted the hurricane lamp took off his coat turned up the bicycle and
set speedily to work Miriam came with the bowl of water and stood close to him
watching She loved to see his hands doing things He was slim and vigorous
with a kind of easiness even in his most hasty movements And busy at his work
he seemed to forget her She loved him absorbedly She wanted to run her hands
down his sides She always wanted to embrace him so long as he did not want
her
»There« he said rising suddenly »Now could you have done it quicker«
»No« she laughed
He straightened himself His back was towards her She put her two hands on
his sides and ran them quickly down
»You are so fine« she said
He laughed hating her voice but his blood roused to a wave of flame by her
hands She did not seem to realise him in all this He might have been an
object. She never realised the male he was
He lighted his bicyclelamp bounced the machine on the barn floor to see
that the tyres were sound and buttoned his coat
»Thats all right« he said
She was trying the brakes that she knew were broken
»Did you have them mended« she asked
»No«
»But why didnt you«
»The back one goes on a bit«
»But its not safe«
»I can use my toe«
»I wish youd had them mended« she murmured
»Dont worry come to tea tomorrow with Edgar«
»Shall we«
»Do about four Ill come to meet you«
»Very well«
She was pleased They went across the dark yard to the gate Looking across
he saw through the uncurtained window of the kitchen the heads of Mr and Mrs
Leivers in the warm glow It looked very cosy The road with pine trees was
quite black in front
»Till tomorrow« he said jumping on his bicycle
»Youll take care wont you« she pleaded
»Yes«
His voice already came out of the darkness She stood a moment watching the
light from his lamp race into obscurity along the ground She turned very slowly
indoors Orion was wheeling up over the wood his dog twinkling after him half
smothered For the rest the world was full of darkness and silent save for the
breathing of cattle in their stalls She prayed earnestly for his safety that
night When he left her she often lay in anxiety wondering if he had got home
safely
He dropped down the hills on his bicycle The roads were greasy so he had
to let it go He felt a pleasure as the machine plunged over the second steeper
drop in the hill »Here goes« he said It was risky because of the curve in
the darkness at the bottom and because of the brewers waggons with drunken
waggoners asleep His bicycle seemed to fall beneath him and he loved it
Recklessness is almost a mans revenge on his woman He feels he is not valued
so he will risk destroying himself to deprive her altogether
The stars on the lake seemed to leap like grasshoppers silver upon the
blackness as he spun past Then there was the long climb home
»See mother« he said as he threw her the berries and leaves on to the
table
»Hm« she said glancing at them then away again She sat reading alone
as she always did
»Arent they pretty«
»Yes«
He knew she was cross with him After a few minutes he said
»Edgar and Miriam are coming to tea tomorrow«
She did not answer
»You dont mind«
Still she did not answer
»Do you« he asked
»You know whether I mind or not«
»I dont see why you should I have plenty of meals there«
»You do«
»Then why do you begrudge them tea«
»I begrudge whom tea«
»What are you so horrid for«
»Oh say no more Youve asked her to tea its quite sufficient Shell
come«
He was very angry with his mother He knew it was merely Miriam she objected
to He flung off his boots and went to bed
Paul went to meet his friends the next afternoon He was glad to see them
coming They arrived home at about four oclock Everywhere was clean and still
for Sunday afternoon Mrs Morel sat in her black dress and black apron She
rose to meet the visitors With Edgar she was cordial but with Miriam cold and
rather grudging Yet Paul thought the girl looked so nice in her brown cashmere
frock
He helped his mother to get the tea ready Miriam would have gladly
proffered but was afraid He was rather proud of his home There was about it
now he thought a certain distinction The chairs were only wooden and the
sofa was old But the hearthrug and cushions were cosy the pictures were prints
in good taste there was a simplicity in everything and plenty of books He was
never ashamed in the least of his home nor was Miriam of hers because both
were what they should be and warm And then he was proud of the table the
china was pretty the cloth was fine It did not matter that the spoons were not
silver nor the knives ivoryhandled everything looked nice Mrs Morel had
managed wonderfully while her children were growing up so that nothing was out
of place
Miriam talked books a little That was her unfailing topic But Mrs Morel
was not cordial and turned soon to Edgar
At first Edgar and Miriam used to go into Mrs Morels pew Morel never went
to chapel preferring the publichouse Mrs Morel like a little champion sat
at the head of her pew Paul at the other end and at first Miriam sat next to
him Then the chapel was like home It was a pretty place with dark pews and
slim elegant pillars and flowers And the same people had sat in the same
places ever since he was a boy It was wonderfully sweet and soothing to sit
there for an hour and a half next to Miriam and near to his mother uniting his
two loves under the spell of the place of worship Then he felt warm and happy
and religious at once And after chapel he walked home with Miriam whilst Mrs
Morel spent the rest of the evening with her old friend Mrs Burns He was
keenly alive on his walks on Sunday nights with Edgar and Miriam He never went
past the pits at night by the lighted lamphouse the tall black headstocks
and lines of trucks past the fans spinning slowly like shadows without the
feeling of Miriam returning to him keen and almost unbearable
She did not very long occupy the Morels pew Her father took one for
themselves once more It was under the little gallery opposite the Morels
When Paul and his mother came in the chapel the Leiverss pew was always empty
He was anxious for fear she would not come it was so far and there were so
many rainy Sundays Then often very late indeed she came in with her long
stride her head bowed her face hidden under her hat of dark green velvet Her
face as she sat opposite was always in shadow But it gave him a very keen
feeling as if all his soul stirred within him to see her there It was not the
same glow happiness and pride that he felt in having his mother in charge
something more wonderful less human and tinged to intensity by a pain as if
there were something he could not get to
At this time he was beginning to question the orthodox creed He was
twentyone and she was twenty She was beginning to dread the spring he became
so wild and hurt her so much All the way he went cruelly smashing her beliefs
Edgar enjoyed it He was by nature critical and rather dispassionate But Miriam
suffered exquisite pain as with an intellect like a knife the man she loved
examined her religion in which she lived and moved and had her being But he did
not spare her He was cruel And when they went alone he was even more fierce
as if he would kill her soul He bled her beliefs till she almost lost
consciousness
»She exults she exults as she carries him off from me« Mrs Morel cried
in her heart when Paul had gone »Shes not like an ordinary woman who can
leave me my share in him She wants to absorb him She wants to draw him out and
absorb him till there is nothing left of him even for himself He will never be
a man on his own feet she will suck him up« So the mother sat and battled
and brooded bitterly
And he coming home from his walks with Miriam was wild with torture He
walked biting his lips and with clenched fists going at a great rate Then
brought up against a stile he stood for some minutes and did not move There
was a great hollow of darkness fronting him and on the black upslopes patches
of tiny lights and in the lowest trough of the night a flare of the pit It
was all weird and dreadful Why was he torn so almost bewildered and unable to
move Why did his mother sit at home and suffer He knew she suffered badly But
why should she And why did he hate Miriam and feel so cruel towards her at
the thought of his mother If Miriam caused his mother suffering then he hated
her and he easily hated her Why did she make him feel as if he were uncertain
of himself insecure an indefinite thing as if he had not sufficient sheathing
to prevent the night and the space breaking into him How he hated her And
then what a rush of tenderness and humility
Suddenly he plunged on again running home His mother saw on him the marks
of some agony and she said nothing But he had to make her talk to him Then
she was angry with him for going so far with Miriam
»Why dont you like her mother« he cried in despair
»I dont know my boy« she replied piteously »Im sure Ive tried to like
her Ive tried and tried but I cant I cant«
And he felt dreary and hopeless between the two
Spring was the worst time He was changeable and intense and cruel So he
decided to stay away from her Then came the hours when he knew Miriam was
expecting him His mother watched him growing restless He could not go on with
his work He could do nothing It was as if something were drawing his soul out
towards Willey Farm Then he put on his hat and went saying nothing And his
mother knew he was gone And as soon as he was on the way he sighed with relief
And when he was with her he was cruel again
One day in March he lay on the bank of Nethermere with Miriam sitting
beside him It was a glistening whiteandblue day Big clouds so brilliant
went by overhead while shadows stole along on the water The clear spaces in
the sky were of clean cold blue Paul lay on his back in the old grass looking
up He could not bear to look at Miriam She seemed to want him and he
resisted He resisted all the time He wanted now to give her passion and
tenderness and he could not He felt that she wanted the soul out of his body
and not him All his strength and energy she drew into herself through some
channel which united them She did not want to meet him so that there were two
of them man and woman together She wanted to draw all of him into her It
urged him to an intensity like madness which fascinated him as drugtaking
might
He was discussing Michael Angelo It felt to her as if she were fingering
the very quivering tissue the very protoplasm of life as she heard him It
gave her deepest satisfaction And in the end it frightened her There he lay in
the white intensity of his search and his voice gradually filled her with fear
so level it was almost inhuman as if in a trance
»Dont talk any more« she pleaded softly laying her hand on his forehead
He lay quite still almost unable to move His body was somewhere discarded
»Why not Are you tired«
»Yes and it wears you out«
He laughed shortly realising
»Yet you always make me like it« he said
»I dont wish to« she said very low
»Not when youve gone too far and you feel you cant bear it But your
unconscious self always asks it of me And I suppose I want it«
He went on in his dead fashion
»If only you could want me and not want what I can reel off for you«
»I« she cried bitterly »I Why when would you let me take you«
»Then its my fault« he said and gathering himself together he got up
and began to talk trivialities He felt insubstantial In a vague way he hated
her for it And he knew he was as much to blame himself This however did not
prevent his hating her
One evening about this time he had walked along the home road with her They
stood by the pasture leading down to the wood unable to part As the stars came
out the clouds closed They had glimpses of their own constellation Orion
towards the west His jewels glimmered for a moment his dog ran low struggling
with difficulty through the spume of cloud
Orion was for them chief in significance among the constellations They had
gazed at him in their strange surcharged hours of feeling until they seemed
themselves to live in every one of his stars This evening Paul had been moody
and perverse Orion had seemed just an ordinary constellation to him He had
fought against his glamour and fascination Miriam was watching her lovers mood
carefully But he said nothing that gave him away till the moment came to part
when he stood frowning gloomily at the gathered clouds behind which the great
constellation must be striding still
There was to be a little party at his house the next day at which she was
to attend
»I shant come and meet you« he said
»Oh very well its not very nice out« she replied slowly
»Its not that only they dont like me to They say I care more for you
than for them And you understand dont you You know its only friendship«
Miriam was astonished and hurt for him It had cost him an effort She left
him wanting to spare him any further humiliation A fine rain blew in her face
as she walked along the road She was hurt deep down and she despised him for
being blown about by any wind of authority And in her heart of hearts
unconsciously she felt that he was trying to get away from her This she would
never have acknowledged She pitied him
At this time Paul became an important factor in Jordans warehouse Mr
Pappleworth left to set up a business of his own and Paul remained with Mr
Jordan as Spiral overseer His wages were to be raised to thirty shillings at
the yearend if things went well
Still on Friday night Miriam often came down for her French lesson Paul did
not go so frequently to Willey Farm and she grieved at the thought of her
educations coming to end moreover they both loved to be together in spite of
discords So they read Balzac and did compositions and felt highly cultured
Friday night was reckoning night for the miners Morel reckoned shared up
the money of the stall either in the New Inn at Bretty or in his own house
according as his fellowbutties wished Barker had turned a nondrinker so now
the men reckoned at Morels house
Annie who had been teaching away was at home again She was still a
tomboy and she was engaged to be married Paul was studying design
Morel was always in good spirits on Friday evening unless the weeks
earnings were small He bustled immediately after his dinner prepared to get
washed It was decorum for the women to absent themselves while the men
reckoned Women were not supposed to spy into such a masculine privacy as the
butties reckoning nor were they to know the exact amount of the weeks
earnings So whilst her father was spluttering in the scullery Annie went out
to spend an hour with a neighbour Mrs Morel attended to her baking
»Shut that dooer« bawled Morel furiously
Annie banged it behind her and was gone
»If tha oppens it again while Im weshin me Ill mae thy jaw rattle« he
threatened from the midst of his soapsuds Paul and the mother frowned to hear
him
Presently he came running out of the scullery with the soapy water dripping
from him dithering with cold
»Oh my sirs« he said »Wheers my towel«
It was hung on a chair to warm before the fire otherwise he would have
bullied and blustered He squatted on his heels before the hot bakingfire to
dry himself
»Ffff« he went pretending to shudder with cold
»Goodness man dont be such a kid« said Mrs Morel »Its not cold«
»Thee strip thysen stark nakd to wesh thy flesh i that scullery« said the
miner as he rubbed his hair »nowt br a iceouse«
»And I shouldnt make that fuss« replied his wife
»No thad drop down stiff as dead as a doorknob wi thy nesh sides«
»Why is a doorknob deader than anything else« asked Paul curious
»Eh I dunno thats what they say« replied his father »But theres that
much draught i yon scullery as it blows through your ribs like through a
fivebarred gate«
»It would have some difficulty in blowing through yours« said Mrs Morel
Morel looked down ruefully at his sides
»Me« he exclaimed »Im nowt br a skinned rabbit My bones fair juts out
on me«
»I should like to know where« retorted his wife
»Ivrywheer Im nobbut a sack o faggots«
Mrs Morel laughed He had still a wonderfully young body muscular without
any fat His skin was smooth and clear It might have been the body of a man of
twentyeight except that there were perhaps too many blue scars like
tattoomarks where the coaldust remained under the skin and that his chest
was too hairy But he put his hand on his side ruefully It was his fixed belief
that because he did not get fat he was as thin as a starved rat
Paul looked at his fathers thick brownish hands all scarred with broken
nails rubbing the fine smoothness of his sides and the incongruity struck him
It seemed strange they were the same flesh
»I suppose« he said to his father »you had a good figure once«
»Eh« exclaimed the miner glancing round startled and timid like a child
»He had« exclaimed Mrs Morel »if he didnt hurtle himself up as if he was
trying to get in the smallest space he could«
»Me« exclaimed Morel »me a good figure I wor niver much more nr a
skeleton«
»Man« cried his wife »dont be such a pulamiter«
»Strewth« he said »Thas niver knowed me but what I looked as if I wor
goin off in a rapid decline«
She sat and laughed
»Youve had a constitution like iron« she said »and never a man had a
better start if it was body that counted You should have seen him as a young
man« she cried suddenly to Paul drawing herself up to imitate her husbands
once handsome bearing
Morel watched her shyly He saw again the passion she had had for him It
blazed upon her for a moment He was shy rather scared and humble Yet again
he felt his old glow And then immediately he felt the ruin he had made during
these years He wanted to bustle about to run away from it
»Gie my back a bit of a wesh« he asked her
His wife brought a wellsoaped flannel and clapped it on his shoulders He
gave a jump
»Eh tha mucky little ussy« he cried »Cowd as death«
»You ought to have been a salamander« she laughed washing his back It was
very rarely she would do anything so personal for him The children did those
things
»The next world wont be half hot enough for you« she added
»No« he said »thalt see as its draughty for me«
But she had finished She wiped him in a desultory fashion and went
upstairs returning immediately with his shiftingtrousers When he was dried he
struggled into his shirt Then ruddy and shiny with hair on end and his
flannelette shirt hanging over his pittrousers he stood warming the garments
he was going to put on He turned them he pulled them inside out he scorched
them
»Goodness man« cried Mrs Morel »get dressed«
»Should thee like to clap thysen into britches as cowd as a tub o water«
he said
At last he took off his pittrousers and donned decent black He did all
this on the hearthrug as he would have done if Annie and her familiar friends
had been present
Mrs Morel turned the bread in the oven Then from the red earthenware
panchion of dough that stood in a corner she took another handful of paste
worked it to the proper shape and dropped it into a tin As she was doing so
Barker knocked and entered He was a quiet compact little man who looked as if
he would go through a stone wall His black hair was cropped short his head was
bony Like most miners he was pale but healthy and taut
»Evenin missis« he nodded to Mrs Morel and he seated himself with a
sigh
»Goodevening« she replied cordially
»Thas made thy heels crack« said Morel
»I dunno as I have« said Barker
He sat as the men always did in Morels kitchen effacing himself rather
»Hows missis« she asked of him
He had told her some time back
»Were expectin us third just now you see«
»Well« he answered rubbing his head »she keeps pretty middlin I think«
»Lets see when« asked Mrs Morel
»Well I shouldnt be surprised any time now«
»Ah And shes kept fairly«
»Yes tidy«
»Thats a blessing for shes none too strong«
»No An Ive done another silly trick«
»Whats that«
Mrs Morel knew Barker wouldnt do anything very silly
»Im come beout th marketbag«
»You can have mine«
»Nay youll be wantin that yourself«
»I shant I take a string bag always«
She saw the determined little collier buying in the weeks groceries and
meat on the Friday nights and she admired him »Barkers little but hes ten
times the man you are« she said to her husband
Just then Wesson entered He was thin rather fraillooking with a boyish
ingenuousness and a slightly foolish smile despite his seven children But his
wife was a passionate woman
»I see youve kested me« he said smiling rather vapidly
»Yes« replied Barker
The newcomer took off his cap and his big woollen muffler His nose was
pointed and red
»Im afraid youre cold Mr Wesson« said Mrs Morel
»Its a bit nippy« he replied
»Then come to the fire«
»Nay I sll do where I am«
Both colliers sat away back They could not be induced to come on to the
hearth The hearth is sacred to the family
»Go thy ways i th armchair« cried Morel cheerily
»Nay thank yer Im very nicely here«
»Yes come of course« insisted Mrs Morel
He rose and went awkwardly He sat in Morels armchair awkwardly It was
too great a familiarity But the fire made him blissfully happy
»And hows that chest of yours« demanded Mrs Morel
He smiled again with his blue eyes rather sunny
»Oh its very middlin« he said
»Wi a rattle in it like a kettledrum« said Barker shortly
»Tttt« went Mrs Morel rapidly with her tongue »Did you have that
flannel singlet made«
»Not yet« he smiled
»Then why didnt you« she cried
»Itll come« he smiled
»Ah an Doomsday« exclaimed Barker
Barker and Morel were both impatient of Wesson But then they were both as
hard as nails physically
When Morel was nearly ready he pushed the bag of money to Paul
»Count it boy« he asked humbly
Paul impatiently turned from his books and pencil tipped the bag upside
down on the table There was a fivepound bag of silver sovereigns and loose
money He counted quickly referred to the checks the written papers giving
amount of coal put the money in order Then Barker glanced at the checks
Mrs Morel went upstairs and the three men came to table Morel as master
of the house sat in his armchair with his back to the hot fire The two
butties had cooler seats None of them counted the money
»What did we say Simpsons was« asked Morel and the butties cavilled for a
minute over the daymans earnings Then the amount was put aside
»An Bill Naylors«
This money also was taken from the pack
Then because Wesson lived in one of the companys houses and his rent had
been deducted Morel and Barker took fourandsix each And because Morels
coals had come and the leading was stopped Barker and Wesson took four
shillings each Then it was plain sailing Morel gave each of them a sovereign
till there were no more sovereigns each half a crown till there were no more
halfcrowns each a shilling till there were no more shillings If there was
anything at the end that wouldnt split Morel took it and stood drinks
Then the three men rose and went Morel scuttled out of the house before his
wife came down She heard the door close and descended She looked hastily at
the bread in the oven Then glancing on the table she saw her money lying
Paul had been working all the time But now he felt his mother counting the
weeks money and her wrath rising
»Ttttt« went her tongue
He frowned He could not work when she was cross She counted again
»A measly twentyfive shillings« she exclaimed »How much was the cheque«
»Ten pounds eleven« said Paul irritably He dreaded what was coming
»And he gives me a scrattlin twentyfive an his club this week But I
know him He thinks because youre earning he neednt keep the house any longer
No all he has to do with his money is to guttle it But Ill show him«
»Oh mother dont« cried Paul
»Dont what I should like to know« she exclaimed
»Dont carry on again I cant work«
She went very quiet
»Yes its all very well« she said »but how do you think Im going to
manage«
»Well it wont make it any better to whittle about it«
»I should like to know what youd do if you had it to put up with«
»It wont be long You can have my money Let him go to hell«
He went back to his work and she tied her bonnetstrings grimly When she
was fretted he could not bear it But now he began to insist on her recognizing
him
»The two loaves at the top« she said »will be done in twenty minutes
Dont forget them«
»All right« he answered and she went to market
He remained alone working But his usual intense concentration became
unsettled He listened for the yardgate At a quarterpast seven came a low
knock and Miriam entered
»All alone« she said
»Yes«
As if at home she took off her tamoshanter and her long coat hanging
them up It gave him a thrill This might be their own house his and hers Then
she came back and peered over his work
»What is it« she asked
»Still design for decorating stuffs and for embroidery«
She bent shortsightedly over the drawings
It irritated him that she peered so into everything that was his searching
him out He went into the parlour and returned with a bundle of brownish linen
Carefully unfolding it he spread it on the floor It proved to be a curtain or
portière beautifully stencilled with a design on roses
»Ah how beautiful« she cried
The spread cloth with its wonderful reddish roses and dark green stems all
so simple and somehow so wickedlooking lay at her feet She went on her knees
before it her dark curls dropping He saw her crouched voluptuously before his
work and his heart beat quickly Suddenly she looked up at him
»Why does it seem cruel« she asked
»What«
»There seems a feeling of cruelty about it« she said
»Its jolly good whether or not« he replied folding up his work with a
lovers hands
She rose slowly pondering
»And what will you do with it« she asked
»Send it to Libertys I did it for my mother but I think shed rather have
the money«
»Yes« said Miriam He had spoken with a touch of bitterness and Miriam
sympathised Money would have been nothing to her
He took the cloth back into the parlour When he returned he threw to Miriam
a smaller piece It was a cushioncover with the same design
»I did that for you« he said
She fingered the work with trembling hands and did not speak He became
embarrassed
»By Jove the bread« he cried
He took the top loaves out tapped them vigorously They were done He put
them on the hearth to cool Then he went to the scullery wetted his hands
scooped the last white dough out of the punchion and dropped it in a
bakingtin Miriam was still bent over her painted cloth He stood rubbing the
bits of dough from his hands
»You do like it« he asked
She looked up at him with her dark eyes one flame of love He laughed
uncomfortably Then he began to talk about the design There was for him the
most intense pleasure in talking about his work to Miriam All his passion all
his wild blood went into this intercourse with her when he talked and
conceived his work She brought forth to him his imaginations She did not
understand any more than a woman understands when she conceives a child in her
womb But this was life for her and for him
While they were talking a young woman of about twentytwo small and pale
holloweyed yet with a relentless look about her entered the room She was a
friend at the Morels
»Take your things off« said Paul
»No Im not stopping«
She sat down in the armchair opposite Paul and Miriam who were on the
sofa Miriam moved a little farther from him The room was hot with a scent of
new bread Brown crisp loaves stood on the hearth
»I shouldnt have expected to see you here tonight Miriam Leivers« said
Beatrice wickedly
»Why not« murmured Miriam huskily
»Why lets look at your shoes«
Miriam remained uncomfortably still
»If tha doesna tha dursna« laughed Beatrice
Miriam put her feet from under her dress Her boots had that queer
irresolute rather pathetic look about them which showed how selfconscious and
selfmistrustful she was And they were covered with mud
»Glory Youre a positive muckheap« exclaimed Beatrice »Who cleans your
boots«
»I clean them myself«
»Then you wanted a job« said Beatrice »It would ha taken a lot of men to
ha brought me down here tonight But love laughs at sludge doesnt it
Postle my duck«
»Inter alia« he said
»Oh Lord are you going to spout foreign languages What does it mean
Miriam«
There was a fine sarcasm in the last question but Miriam did not see it
»Among other things I believe« she said humbly
Beatrice put her tongue between her teeth and laughed wickedly
»Among other things Postle« she repeated »Do you mean love laughs at
mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and men friends and lady
friends and even at the bloved himself«
She affected a great innocence
»In fact its one big smile« he replied
»Up its sleeve Postle Morel you believe me« she said and she went off
into another burst of wicked silent laughter
Miriam sat silent withdrawn into herself Every one of Pauls friends
delighted in taking sides against her and he left her in the lurch seemed
almost to have a sort of revenge upon her then
»Are you still at school« asked Miriam of Beatrice
»Yes«
»Youve not had your notice then«
»I expect it at Easter«
»Isnt it an awful shame to turn you off merely because you didnt pass the
exam«
»I dont know« said Beatrice coldly
»Agatha says youre as good as any teacher anywhere It seems to me
ridiculous I wonder why you didnt pass«
»Short of brains eh Postle« said Beatrice briefly
»Only brains to bite with« replied Paul laughing
»Nuisance« she cried and springing from her seat she rushed and boxed
his ears She had beautiful small hands He held her wrists while she wrestled
with him At last she broke free and seized two handfuls of his thick dark
brown hair which she shook
»Beat« he said as he pulled his hair straight with his fingers »I hate
you«
She laughed with glee
»Mind« she said »I want to sit next to you«
»Id as lief be neighbours with a vixen« he said nevertheless making place
for her between him and Miriam
»Did it ruffle his pretty hair then« she cried and with her haircomb
she combed him straight »And his nice little moustache« she exclaimed She
tilted his head back and combed his young moustache »Its a wicked moustache
Postle« she said »Its a red for danger Have you got any of those
cigarettes«
He pulled his cigarettecase from his pocket Beatrice looked inside it
»And fancy me having Connies last cig« said Beatrice putting the thing
between her teeth He held a lit match to her and she puffed daintily
»Thanks so much darling« she said mockingly
It gave her a wicked delight
»Dont you think he does it nicely Miriam« she asked
»Oh very« said Miriam
He took a cigarette for himself
»Light old boy« said Beatrice tilting her cigarette at him
He bent forward to her to light his cigarette at hers She was winking at
him as he did so Miriam saw his eyes trembling with mischief and his full
almost sensual mouth quivering He was not himself and she could not bear it
As he was now she had no connection with him she might as well not have
existed She saw the cigarette dancing on his full red lips She hated his thick
hair for being tumbled loose on his forehead
»Sweet boy« said Beatrice tipping up his chin and giving him a little kiss
on the cheek
»I sll kiss thee back Beat« he said
»Tha wunna« she giggled jumping up and going away »Isnt he shameless
Miriam«
»Quite« said Miriam »By the way arent you forgetting the bread«
»By Jove« he cried flinging open the oven door
Out puffed the bluish smoke and a smell of burned bread
»Oh golly« cried Beatrice coming to his side He crouched before the
oven she peered over his shoulder »This is what comes of the oblivion of love
my boy«
Paul was ruefully removing the loaves One was burnt black on the hot side
another was hard as a brick
»Poor mater« said Paul
»You want to grate it« said Beatrice »Fetch me the nutmeggrater«
She arranged the bread in the oven He brought the grater and she grated
the bread on to a newspaper on the table He set the doors open to blow away the
smell of burned bread Beatrice grated away puffing her cigarette knocking the
charcoal off the poor loaf
»My word Miriam youre in for it this time« said Beatrice
»I« exclaimed Miriam in amazement
»Youd better be gone when his mother comes in I know why King Alfred
burned the cakes Now I see it Postle would fix up a tale about his work
making him forget if he thought it would wash If that old woman had come in a
bit sooner shed have boxed the brazen things ears who made the oblivion
instead of poor Alfreds«
She giggled as she scraped the loaf Even Miriam laughed in spite of
herself Paul mended the fire ruefully
The garden gate was heard to bang
»Quick« cried Beatrice giving Paul the scraped loaf »Wrap it up in a damp
towel«
Paul disappeared into the scullery Beatrice hastily blew her scrapings into
the fire and sat down innocently Annie came bursting in She was an abrupt
quite smart young woman She blinked in the strong light
»Smell of burning« she exclaimed
»Its the cigarettes« replied Beatrice demurely
»Wheres Paul«
Leonard had followed Annie He had a long comic face and blue eyes very
sad
»I suppose hes left you to settle it between you« he said He nodded
sympathetically to Miriam and became gently sarcastic to Beatrice
»No« said Beatrice »hes gone off with number nine«
»I just met number five inquiring for him« said Leonard
»Yes were going to share him up like Solomons baby« said Beatrice
Annie laughed
»Oh ay« said Leonard »And which bit should you have«
»I dont know« said Beatrice »Ill let all the others pick first«
»An youd have the leavings like« said Leonard twisting up a comic face
Annie was looking in the oven Miriam sat ignored Paul entered
»This breads a fine sight our Paul« said Annie
»Then you should stop an look after it« said Paul
»You mean you should do what youre reckoning to do« replied Annie
»He should shouldnt he« cried Beatrice
»I sd think hed got plenty on hand« said Leonard
»You had a nasty walk didnt you Miriam« said Annie
»Yes but Id been in all week «
»And you wanted a bit of a change like« insinuated Leonard kindly
»Well you cant be stuck in the house for ever« Annie agreed She was
quite amiable Beatrice pulled on her coat and went out with Leonard and Annie
She would meet her own boy
»Dont forget that bread our Paul« cried Annie »Goodnight Miriam I
dont think it will rain«
When they had all gone Paul fetched the swathed loaf unwrapped it and
surveyed it sadly
»Its a mess« he said
»But« answered Miriam impatiently »what is it after all twopence
hapenny«
»Yes but its the maters precious baking and shell take it to heart
However its no good bothering«
He took the loaf back into the scullery There was a little distance between
him and Miriam He stood balanced opposite her for some moments considering
thinking of his behaviour with Beatrice He felt guilty inside himself and yet
glad For some inscrutable reason it served Miriam right He was not going to
repent She wondered what he was thinking of as he stood suspended His thick
hair was tumbled over his forehead Why might she not push it back for him and
remove the marks of Beatrices comb Why might she not press his body with her
two hands It looked so firm and every whit living And he would let other
girls why not her
Suddenly he started into life It made her quiver almost with terror as he
quickly pushed the hair off his forehead and came towards her
»Halfpast eight« he said »Wed better buck up Wheres your French«
Miriam shyly and rather bitterly produced her exercisebook Every week she
wrote for him a sort of diary of her inner life in her own French He had found
this was the only way to get her to do compositions And her diary was mostly a
loveletter He would read it now she felt as if her souls history were going
to be desecrated by him in his present mood He sat beside her She watched his
hand firm and warm rigorously scoring her work He was reading only the
French ignoring her soul that was there But gradually his hand forgot its
work He read in silence motionless She quivered
»Ce matin les oiseaux mont éveillé« he read »Il faisait encore un
crépuscule Mais la petite fenêtre de ma chambre était blême et puis jaûne et
tous les oiseaux du bois éclatèrent dans un chanson vif et résonnant Toute
laûbe tressaillit Javais rêvé de vous Estce que vous voyez aussi laûbe
Les oiseaux méveillent presque tous les matins et toujours il y a quelque
chose de terreur dans le cri des grives Il est si clair «
Miriam sat tremulous half ashamed He remained quite still trying to
understand He only knew she loved him He was afraid of her love for him It
was too good for him and he was inadequate His own love was at fault not
hers Ashamed he corrected her work humbly writing above her words
»Look« he said quietly »the past participle conjugated with avoir agrees
with the direct object when it precedes«
She bent forward trying to see and to understand Her free fine curls
tickled his face He started as if they had been red hot shuddering He saw her
peering forward at the page her red lips parted piteously the black hair
springing in fine strands across her tawny ruddy cheek She was coloured like a
pomegranate for richness His breath came short as he watched her Suddenly she
looked up at him Her dark eyes were naked with their love afraid and
yearning His eyes too were dark and they hurt her They seemed to master
her She lost all her selfcontrol was exposed in fear And he knew before he
could kiss her he must drive something out of himself And a touch of hate for
her crept back again into his heart He returned to her exercise
Suddenly he flung down the pencil and was at the oven in a leap turning
the bread For Miriam he was too quick She started violently and it hurt her
with real pain Even the way he crouched before the oven hurt her There seemed
to be something cruel in it something cruel in the swift way he pitched the
bread out of the tins caught it up again If only he had been gentle in his
movements she would have felt so rich and warm As it was she was hurt
He returned and finished the exercise
»Youve done well this week« he said
She saw he was flattered by her diary It did not repay her entirely
»You really do blossom out sometimes« he said »You ought to write poetry«
She lifted her head with joy then she shook it mistrustfully
»I dont trust myself« she said
»You should try«
Again she shook her head
»Shall we read or is it too late« he asked
»It is late but we can read just a little« she pleaded
She was really getting now the food for her life during the next week He
made her copy Baudelaires »Le Balcon« Then he read it for her His voice was
soft and caressing but growing almost brutal He had a way of lifting his lips
and showing his teeth passionately and bitterly when he was much moved This
he did now It made Miriam feel as if he were trampling on her She dared not
look at him but sat with her head bowed She could not understand why he got
into such a tumult and fury It made her wretched She did not like Baudelaire
on the whole nor Verlaine
»Behold her singing in the field
Yon solitary highland lass«
That nourished her heart So did »Fair Ines« And
»It was a beauteous evening calm and pure
And breathing holy quiet like a nun«
These were like herself And there was he saying in his throat bitterly
»Tu te rappelleras la beauté des caresses«
The poem was finished he took the bread out of the oven arranging the burnt
loaves at the bottom of the panchion the good ones at the top The desiccated
loaf remained swathed up in the scullery
»Mater neednt know till morning« he said »It wont upset her so much then
as at night«
Miriam looked in the bookcase saw what postcards and letters he had
received saw what books were there She took one that had interested him Then
he turned down the gas and they set off He did not trouble to lock the door
He was not home again until a quarter to eleven His mother was seated in
the rockingchair Annie with a rope of hair hanging down her back remained
sitting on a low stool before the fire her elbows on her knees gloomily On
the table stood the offending loaf unswathed Paul entered rather breathless No
one spoke His mother was reading the little local newspaper He took off his
coat and went to sit down on the sofa His mother moved curtly aside to let him
pass No one spoke He was very uncomfortable For some minutes he sat
pretending to read a piece of paper he found on the table Then
»I forgot that bread mother« he said
There was no answer from either woman
»Well« he said »its only twopence hapenny I can pay you for that«
Being angry he put three pennies on the table and slid them towards his
mother She turned away her head Her mouth was shut tightly
»Yes« said Annie »you dont know how badly my mother is«
The girl sat staring glumly into the fire
»Why is she badly« asked Paul in his overbearing way
»Well« said Annie »She could scarcely get home«
He looked closely at his mother She looked ill
»Why could you scarcely get home« he asked her still sharply She would
not answer
»I found her as white as a sheet sitting here« said Annie with a
suggestion of tears in her voice
»Well why« insisted Paul His brows were knitting his eyes dilating
passionately
»It was enough to upset anybody« said Mrs Morel »hugging those parcels
meat and greengroceries and a pair of curtains «
»Well why did you hug them you neednt have done«
»Then who would«
»Let Annie fetch the meat«
»Yes and I would fetch the meat but how was I to know You were off with
Miriam instead of being in when my mother came«
»And what was the matter with you« asked Paul of his mother
»I suppose its my heart« she replied Certainly she looked bluish round
the mouth
»And have you felt it before«
»Yes often enough«
»Then why havent you told me and why havent you seen a doctor«
Mrs Morel shifted in her chair angry with him for his hectoring
»Youd never notice anything« said Annie »Youre too eager to be off with
Miriam«
»Oh am I and any worse than you with Leonard«
»I was in at a quarter to ten«
There was silence in the room for a time
»I should have thought« said Mrs Morel bitterly »that she wouldnt have
occupied you so entirely as to burn a whole ovenful of bread«
»Beatrice was here as well as she«
»Very likely But we know why the bread is spoilt«
»Why« he flashed
»Because you were engrossed with Miriam« replied Mrs Morel hotly
»Oh very well then it was not« he replied angrily
He was distressed and wretched Seizing a paper he began to read Annie
her blouse unfastened her long ropes of hair twisted into a plait went up to
bed bidding him a very curt goodnight
Paul sat pretending to read He knew his mother wanted to upbraid him He
also wanted to know what had made her ill for he was troubled So instead of
running away to bed as he would have liked to do he sat and waited There was
a tense silence The clock ticked loudly
»Youd better go to bed before your father comes in« said the mother
harshly »And if youre going to have anything to eat youd better get it«
»I dont want anything«
It was his mothers custom to bring him some trifle for supper on Friday
night the night of luxury for the colliers He was too angry to go and find it
in the pantry this night This insulted her
»If I wanted you to go to Selby on Friday night I can imagine the scene«
said Mrs Morel »But youre never too tired to go if she will come for you
Nay you neither want to eat nor drink then«
»I cant let her go alone«
»Cant you And why does she come«
»Not because I ask her«
»She doesnt come without you want her «
»Well what if I do want her « he replied
»Why nothing if it was sensible or reasonable But to go trapseing up
there miles and miles in the mud coming home at midnight and got to go to
Nottingham in the morning «
»If I hadnt youd be just the same«
»Yes I should because theres no sense in it Is she so fascinating that
you must follow her all that way« Mrs Morel was bitterly sarcastic She sat
still with averted face stroking with a rhythmic jerked movement the black
sateen of her apron It was a movement that hurt Paul to see
»I do like her« he said »but «
»Like her« said Mrs Morel in the same biting tones »It seems to me you
like nothing and nobody else Theres neither Annie nor me nor anyone now for
you«
»What nonsense mother you know I dont love her I I tell you I dont
love her she doesnt even walk with my arm because I dont want her to«
»Then why do you fly to her so often«
»I do like to talk to her I never said I didnt But I dont love her«
»Is there nobody else to talk to«
»Not about the things we talk of Theres a lot of things that youre not
interested in that «
»What things«
Mrs Morel was so intense that Paul began to pant
»Why painting and books You dont care about Herbert Spencer«
»No« was the sad reply »And you wont at my age«
»Well but I do now and Miriam does «
»And how do you know« Mrs Morel flashed defiantly »that I shouldnt Do
you ever try me«
»But you dont mother you know you dont care whether a pictures
decorative or not you dont care what manner it is in«
»How do you know I dont care Do you ever try me Do you ever talk to me
about these things to try«
»But its not that that matters to you mother you know ts not«
»What is it then what is it then that matters to me« she flashed He
knitted his brows with pain
»Youre old mother and were young«
He only meant that the interests of her age were not the interests of his
But he realised the moment he had spoken that he had said the wrong thing
»Yes I know it well I am old And therefore I may stand aside I have
nothing more to do with you You only want me to wait on you the rest is for
Miriam«
He could not bear it Instinctively he realised that he was life to her
And after all she was the chief thing to him the only supreme thing
»You know it isnt mother you know it isnt«
She was moved to pity by his cry
»It looks a great deal like it« she said half putting aside her despair
»No mother I really dont love her I talk to her but I want to come
home to you«
He had taken off his collar and tie and rose barethroated to go to bed
As he stooped to kiss his mother she threw her arms round his neck hid her
face on his shoulder and cried in a whimpering voice so unlike her own that
he writhed in agony
»I cant bear it I could let another woman but not her Shed leave me no
room not a bit of room «
And immediately he hated Miriam bitterly
»And Ive never you know Paul Ive never had a husband not really «
He stroked his mothers hair and his mouth was on her throat
»And she exults so in taking you from me shes not like ordinary girls«
»Well I dont love her mother« he murmured bowing his head and hiding
his eyes on her shoulder in misery His mother kissed him a long fervent kiss
»My boy« she said in a voice trembling with passionate love
Without knowing he gently stroked her face
»There« said his mother »now go to bed Youll be so tired in the
morning« As she was speaking she heard her husband coming »Theres your father
now go« Suddenly she looked at him almost as if in fear »Perhaps Im
selfish If you want her take her my boy«
His mother looked so strange Paul kissed her trembling
»Ha mother« he said softly
Morel came in walking unevenly His hat was over one corner of his eye He
balanced in the doorway
»At your mischief again« he said venomously
Mrs Morels emotion turned into sudden hate of the drunkard who had come in
thus upon her
»At any rate it is sober« she said
»Hm hm hm hm« he sneered He went into the passage hung up his
hat and coat Then they heard him go down three steps to the pantry He returned
with a piece of porkpie in his fist It was what Mrs Morel had bought for her
son
»Nor was that bought for you If you can give me no more than twentyfive
shillings Im sure Im not going to buy you porkpie to stuff after youve
swilled a bellyful of beer«
»Whaat whaat« snarled Morel toppling in his balance »Whaat not for
me« He looked at the piece of meat and crust and suddenly in a vicious spurt
of temper flung it into the fire
Paul started to his feet
»Waste your own stuff« he cried
»What what« suddenly shouted Morel jumping up and clenching his fist
»Ill show yer yer young jockey«
»All right« said Paul viciously putting his head on one side »Show me«
He would at that moment dearly have loved to have a smack at something
Morel was half crouching fists up ready to spring The young man stood
smiling with his lips
»Ussha« hissed the father swiping round with a great stroke just past his
sons face He dared not even though so close really touch the young man but
swerved an inch away
»Right« said Paul his eyes upon the side of his fathers mouth where in
another instant his fist would have hit He ached for that stroke But he heard
a faint moan from behind His mother was deadly pale and dark at the mouth
Morel was dancing up to deliver another blow
»Father« said Paul so that the word rang
Morel started and stood at attention
»Mother« moaned the boy »Mother«
She began to struggle with herself Her open eyes watched him although she
could not move Gradually she was coming to herself He laid her down on the
sofa and ran upstairs for a little whisky which at last she could sip The
tears were hopping down his face As he kneeled in front of her he did not cry
but the tears ran down his face quickly Morel on the opposite side of the
room sat with his elbows on his knees glaring across
»Whats amatter with er« he asked
»Faint« replied Paul
»Hm«
The elderly man began to unlace his boots He stumbled off to bed His last
fight was fought in that home
Paul kneeled there stroking his mothers hand
»Dont be poorly mother dont be poorly« he said time after time
»Its nothing my boy« she murmured
At last he rose fetched in a large piece of coal and raked the fire Then
he cleared the room put everything straight laid the things for breakfast and
brought his mothers candle
»Can you go to bed mother«
»Yes Ill come«
»Sleep with Annie mother not with him«
»No Ill sleep in my own bed«
»Dont sleep with him mother«
»Ill sleep in my own bed«
She rose and he turned out the gas then followed her closely upstairs
carrying her candle On the landing he kissed her close
»Goodnight mother«
»Goodnight« she said
He pressed his face upon the pillow in a fury of misery And yet somewhere
in his soul he was at peace because he still loved his mother best It was the
bitter peace of resignation
The efforts of his father to conciliate him next day were a great
humiliation to him
Everybody tried to forget the scene
Chapter IX
Defeat of Miriam
Paul was dissatisfied with himself and with everything The deepest of his love
belonged to his mother When he felt he had hurt her or wounded his love for
her he could not bear it Now it was spring and there was battle between him
and Miriam This year he had a good deal against her She was vaguely aware of
it The old feeling that she was to be a sacrifice to this love which she had
had when she prayed was mingled in all her emotions She did not at the bottom
believe she ever would have him She did not believe in herself primarily
doubted whether she could ever be what he would demand of her Certainly she
never saw herself living happily through a lifetime with him She saw tragedy
sorrow and sacrifice ahead And in sacrifice she was proud in renunciation she
was strong for she did not trust herself to support everyday life She was
prepared for the big things and the deep things like tragedy It was the
sufficiency of the small daylife she could not trust
The Easter holidays began happily Paul was his own frank self Yet she felt
it would go wrong On the Sunday afternoon she stood at her bedroom window
looking across at the oaktrees of the wood in whose branches a twilight was
tangled below the bright sky of the afternoon Greygreen rosettes of
honeysuckle leaves hung before the window some already she fancied showing
bud It was spring which she loved and dreaded
Hearing the clack of the gate she stood in suspense It was a bright grey
day Paul came into the yard with his bicycle which glittered as he walked
Usually he rang his bell and laughed towards the house Today he walked with
shut lips and cold cruel bearing that had something of a slouch and a sneer in
it She knew him well by now and could tell from that keenlooking aloof young
body of his what was happening inside him There was a cold correctness in the
way he put his bicycle in its place that made her heart sink
She came downstairs nervously She was wearing a new net blouse that she
thought became her It had a high collar with a tiny ruff reminding her of
Mary Queen of Scots and making her she thought look wonderfully a woman and
dignified At twenty she was fullbreasted and luxuriously formed Her face was
still like a soft rich mask unchangeable But her eyes once lifted were
wonderful She was afraid of him He would notice her new blouse
He being in a hard ironical mood was entertaining the family to a
description of a service given in the Primitive Methodist Chapel conducted by
one of the wellknown preachers of the sect He sat at the head of the table
his mobile face with the eyes that could be so beautiful shining with
tenderness or dancing with laughter now taking on one expression and then
another in imitation of various people he was mocking His mockery always hurt
her it was too near the reality He was too clever and cruel She felt that
when his eyes were like this hard with mocking hate he would spare neither
himself nor anybody else But Mrs Leivers was wiping her eyes with laughter
and Mr Leivers just awake from his Sunday nap was rubbing his head in
amusement The three brothers sat with ruffled sleepy appearance in their
shirtsleeves giving a guffaw from time to time The whole family loved a
takeoff more than anything
He took no notice of Miriam Later she saw him remark her new blouse saw
that the artist approved but it won from him not a spark of warmth She was
nervous could hardly reach the teacups from the shelves
When the men went out to milk she ventured to address him personally
»You were late« she said
»Was I« he answered
There was silence for a while
»Was it rough riding« she asked
»I didnt notice it«
She continued quickly to lay the table When she had finished
»Tea wont be for a few minutes Will you come and look at the daffodils«
she said
He rose without answering They went out into the back garden under the
budding damsontrees The hills and the sky were clean and cold Everything
looked washed rather hard Miriam glanced at Paul He was pale and impassive
It seemed cruel to her that his eyes and brows which she loved could look so
hurting
»Has the wind made you tired« she asked She detected an underneath feeling
of weariness about him
»No I think not« he answered
»It must be rough on the road the wood moans so«
»You can see by the clouds its a southwest wind that helps me here«
»You see I dont cycle so I dont understand« she murmured
»Is there need to cycle to know that« he said
She thought his sarcasms were unnecessary They went forward in silence
Round the wild tussocky lawn at the back of the house was a thorn hedge under
which daffodils were craning forward from among their sheaves of greygreen
blades The cheeks of the flowers were greenish with cold But still some had
burst and their gold ruffled and glowed Miriam went on her knees before one
cluster took a wildlooking daffodil between her hands turned up its face of
gold to her and bowed down caressing it with her mouth and cheeks and brow He
stood aside with his hands in his pockets watching her One after another she
turned up to him the faces of the yellow bursten flowers appealingly fondling
them lavishly all the while
»Arent they magnificent« she murmured
»Magnificent Its a bit thick theyre pretty«
She bowed again to her flowers at his censure of her praise He watched her
crouching sipping the flowers with fervid kisses
»Why must you always be fondling things« he said irritably
»But I love to touch them« she replied hurt
»Can you never like things without clutching them as if you wanted to pull
the heart out of them Why dont you have a bit more restraint or reserve or
something«
She looked up at him full of pain then continued slowly to stroke her lips
against a ruffled flower Their scent as she smelled it was so much kinder
than he it almost made her cry
»You wheedle the soul out of things« he said »I would never wheedle at
any rate Id go straight«
He scarcely knew what he was saying These things came from him
mechanically She looked at him His body seemed one weapon firm and hard
against her
»Youre always begging things to love you« he said »as if you were a
beggar for love Even the flowers you have to fawn on them «
Rhythmically Miriam was swaying and stroking the flower with her mouth
inhaling the scent which ever after made her shudder as it came to her nostrils
»You dont want to love your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved
You arent positive youre negative You absorb absorb as if you must fill
yourself up with love because youve got a shortage somewhere«
She was stunned by his cruelty and did not hear He had not the faintest
notion of what he was saying It was as if his fretted tortured soul run hot
by thwarted passion jetted off these sayings like sparks from electricity She
did not grasp anything he said She only sat crouched beneath his cruelty and
his hatred of her She never realised in a flash Over everything she brooded
and brooded
After tea he stayed with Edgar and the brothers taking no notice of Miriam
She extremely unhappy on this lookedfor holiday waited for him And at last
he yielded and came to her She was determined to track this mood of his to its
origin She counted it not much more than a mood
»Shall we go through the wood a little way« she asked him knowing he never
refused a direct request
They went down to the warren On the middle path they passed a trap a
narrow horseshoe hedge of small firboughs baited with the guts of a rabbit
Paul glanced at it frowning She caught his eye
»Isnt it dreadful« she asked
»I dont know Is it worse than a weasel with its teeth in a rabbits
throat One weasel or many rabbits One or the other must go«
He was taking the bitterness of life badly She was rather sorry for him
»We will go back to the house« he said »I dont want to walk out«
They went past the lilactree whose bronze leafbuds were coming
unfastened Just a fragment remained of the haystack a monument squared and
brown like a pillar of stone There was a little bed of hay from the last
cutting
»Let us sit here a minute« said Miriam
He sat down against his will resting his back against the hard wall of hay
They faced the amphitheatre of round hills that glowed with sunset tiny white
farms standing out the meadows golden the woods dark and yet luminous
treetops folded over treetops distinct in the distance The evening had
cleared and the east was tender with a magenta flush under which the land lay
still and rich
»Isnt it beautiful« she pleaded
But he only scowled He would rather have had it ugly just then
At that moment a big bullterrier came rushing up openmouthed pranced his
two paws on the youths shoulders licking his face Paul drew back laughing
Bill was a great relief to him He pushed the dog aside but it came leaping
back
»Get out« said the lad »or Ill dot thee one«
But the dog was not to be pushed away So Paul had a little battle with the
creature pitching poor Bill away from him who however only floundered
tumultously back again wild with joy The two fought together the man laughing
grudgingly the dog grinning all over Miriam watched them There was something
pathetic about the man He wanted so badly to love to be tender The rough way
he bowled the dog over was really loving Bill got up panting with happiness
his brown eyes rolling in his white face and lumbered back again He adored
Paul The lad frowned
»Bill Ive had enough o thee« he said
But the dog only stood with two heavy paws that quivered with love upon
his thigh and flickered a red tongue at him He drew back
»No« he said »no Ive had enough«
And in a minute the dog trotted off happily to vary the fun
He remained staring miserably across at the hills whose still beauty he
begrudged He wanted to go and cycle with Edgar Yet he had not the courage to
leave Miriam
»Why are you sad« she asked humbly
»Im not sad why should I be« he answered »Im only normal«
She wondered why he always claimed to be normal when he was disagreeable
»But what is the matter« she pleaded coaxing him soothingly
»Nothing«
»Nay« she murmured
He picked up a stick and began to stab the earth with it
»Youd far better not talk« he said
»But I wish to know « she replied
He laughed resentfully
»You always do« he said
»Its not fair to me« she murmured
He thrust thrust thrust at the ground with the pointed stick digging up
little clods of earth as if he were in a fever of irritation She gently and
firmly laid her hand on his wrist
»Dont« she said »Put it away«
He flung the stick into the currantbushes and leaned back Now he was
bottled up
»What is it« she pleaded softly
He lay perfectly still only his eyes alive and they full of torment
»You know« he said at length rather wearily »you know wed better
break off«
It was what she dreaded Swiftly everything seemed to darken before her
eyes
»Why« she murmured »What has happened«
»Nothing has happened We only realise where we are Its no good «
She waited in silence sadly patiently It was no good being impatient with
him At any rate he would tell her now what ailed him
»We agreed on friendship« he went on in a dull monotonous voice »How
often have we agreed for friendship And yet it neither stops there nor gets
anywhere else«
He was silent again She brooded What did he mean He was so wearying
There was something he would not yield Yet she must be patient with him
»I can only give friendship its all Im capable of its a flaw in my
makeup The thing overbalances to one side I hate a toppling balance Let us
have done«
There was warmth of fury in his last phrases He meant she loved him more
than he her Perhaps he could not love her Perhaps she had not in herself that
which he wanted It was the deepest motive of her soul this selfmistrust It
was so deep she dared neither realise nor acknowledge Perhaps she was
deficient Like an infinitely subtle shame it kept her always back If it were
so she would do without him She would never let herself want him She would
merely see
»But what has happened« she said
»Nothing its all in myself it only comes out just now Were always
like this towards Eastertime«
He grovelled so helplessly she pitied him At least she never floundered in
such a pitiable way After all it was he who was chiefly humiliated
»What do you want« she asked him
»Why I mustnt come often thats all Why should I monopolise you when
Im not You see Im deficient in something with regard to you «
He was telling her he did not love her and so ought to leave her a chance
with another man How foolish and blind and shamefully clumsy he was What were
other men to her What were men to her at all But he ah she loved his soul
Was he deficient in something Perhaps he was
»But I dont understand« she said huskily »Yesterday «
The night was turning jangled and hateful to him as the twilight faded And
she bowed under her suffering
»I know« he cried »you never will Youll never believe that I cant
cant physically any more than I can fly up like a skylark «
»What« she murmured Now she dreaded
»Love you«
He hated her bitterly at that moment because he made her suffer Love her
She knew he loved her He really belonged to her This about not loving her
physically bodily was a mere perversity on his part because he knew she loved
him He was stupid like a child He belonged to her His soul wanted her She
guessed somebody had been influencing him She felt upon him the hardness the
foreignness of another influence
»What have they been saying at home« she asked
»Its not that« he answered
And then she knew it was She despised them for their commonness his
people They did not know what things were really worth
He and she talked very little more that night After all he left her to
cycle with Edgar
He had come back to his mother Hers was the strongest tie in his life When
he thought round Miriam shrank away There was a vague unreal feel about her
And nobody else mattered There was one place in the world that stood solid and
did not melt into unreality the place where his mother was Everybody else
could grow shadowy almost nonexistent to him but she could not It was as if
the pivot and pole of his life from which he could not escape was his mother
And in the same way she waited for him In him was established her life now
After all the life beyond offered very little to Mrs Morel She saw that our
chance for doing is here and doing counted with her Paul was going to prove
that she had been right he was going to make a man whom nothing should shift
off his feet he was going to alter the face of the earth in some way which
mattered Wherever he went she felt her soul went with him Whatever he did she
felt her soul stood by him ready as it were to hand him his tools She could
not bear it when he was with Miriam William was dead She would fight to keep
Paul
And he came back to her And in his soul was a feeling of the satisfaction
of self-sacrifice because he was faithful to her She loved him first he loved
her first And yet it was not enough His new young life so strong and
imperious was urged towards something else It made him mad with restlessness
She saw this and wished bitterly that Miriam had been a woman who could take
this new life of his and leave her the roots He fought against his mother
almost as he fought against Miriam
It was a week before he went again to Willey Farm Miriam had suffered a
great deal and was afraid to see him again Was she now to endure the ignominy
of his abandoning her That would only be superficial and temporary He would
come back She held the keys to his soul But meanwhile how he would torture
her with his battle against her She shrank from it
However the Sunday after Easter he came to tea Mrs Leivers was glad to
see him She gathered something was fretting him that he found things hard He
seemed to drift to her for comfort And she was good to him She did him that
great kindness of treating him almost with reverence
He met her with the young children in the front garden
»Im glad youve come« said the mother looking at him with her great
appealing brown eyes »It is such a sunny day I was just going down the fields
for the first time this year«
He felt she would like him to come That soothed him They went talking
simply he gentle and humble He could have wept with gratitude that she was
deferential to him He was feeling humiliated
At the bottom of the Mow Close they found a thrushs nest
»Shall I show you the eggs« he said
»Do« replied Mrs Leivers »They seem such a sign of spring and so
hopeful«
He put aside the thorns and took out the eggs holding them in the palm of
his hand
»They are quite hot I think we frightened her off them« he said
»Ay poor thing« said Mrs Leivers
Miriam could not help touching the eggs and his hand which it seemed to
her cradled them so well
»Isnt it a strange warmth« she murmured to get near him
»Blood heat« he answered
She watched him putting them back his body pressed against the hedge his
arm reaching slowly through the thorns his hand folded carefully over the eggs
He was concentrated on the act Seeing him so she loved him he seemed so
simple and sufficient to himself And she could not get to him
After tea she stood hesitating at the bookshelf He took »Tartarin de
Tarascon« Again they sat on the bank of hay at the foot of the stack He read a
couple of pages but without any heart for it Again the dog came racing up to
repeat the fun of the other day He shoved his muzzle in the mans chest Paul
fingered his ear for a moment Then he pushed him away
»Go away Bill« he said »I dont want you«
Bill slunk off and Miriam wondered and dreaded what was coming There was a
silence about the youth that made her still with apprehension It was not his
furies but his quiet resolutions that she feared
Turning his face a little to one side so that she could not see him he
began speaking slowly and painfully
»Do you think if I didnt come up so much you might get to like somebody
else another man«
So this was what he was still harping on
»But I dont know any other men Why do you ask« she replied in a low tone
that should have been a reproach to him
»Why« he blurted »because they say Ive no right to come up like this
without we mean to marry «
Miriam was indignant at anybodys forcing the issues between them She had
been furious with her own father for suggesting to Paul laughingly that he
knew why he came so much
»Who says« she asked wondering if her people had anything to do with it
They had not
»Mother and the others They say at this rate everybody will consider me
engaged and I ought to consider myself so because its not fair to you And
Ive tried to find out and I dont think I love you as a man ought to love his
wife What do you think about it«
Miriam bowed her head moodily She was angry at having this struggle People
should leave him and her alone
»I dont know« she murmured
»Do you think we love each other enough to marry« he asked definitely It
made her tremble
»No« she answered truthfully »I dont think so were too young«
»I thought perhaps« he went on miserably »that you with your intensity in
things might have given me more than I could ever make up to you And even
now if you think it better well be engaged«
Now Miriam wanted to cry And she was angry too He was always such a child
for people to do as they liked with
»No I dont think so« she said firmly
He pondered a minute
»You see« he said »with me I dont think one person would ever
monopolize me be everything to me I think never«
This she did not consider
»No« she murmured Then after a pause she looked at him and her dark
eyes flashed
»This is your mother« she said »I know she never liked me«
»No no it isnt« he said hastily »It was for your sake she spoke this
time She only said if I was going on I ought to consider myself engaged«
There was a silence »And if I ask you to come down any time you wont stop
away will you«
She did not answer By this time she was very angry
»Well what shall we do« she said shortly »I suppose Id better drop
French I was just beginning to get on with it But I suppose I can go on
alone«
»I dont see that we need« he said »I can give you a French lesson
surely«
»Well and there are Sunday nights I shant stop coming to chapel because
I enjoy it and its all the social life I get But youve no need to come home
with me I can go alone«
»All right« he answered rather taken aback »But if I ask Edgar hell
always come with us and then they can say nothing«
There was silence After all then she would not lose much For all their
talk down at his home there would not be much difference She wished they would
mind their own business
»And you wont think about it and let it trouble you will you« he asked
»Oh no« replied Miriam without looking at him
He was silent She thought him unstable He had no fixity of purpose no
anchor of righteousness that held him
»Because« he continued »a man gets across his bicycle and goes to work
and does all sorts of things But a woman broods«
»No I shant bother« said Miriam And she meant it
It had gone rather chilly They went indoors
»How white Paul looks« Mrs Leivers exclaimed »Miriam you shouldnt have
let him sit out of doors Do you think youve taken cold Paul«
»Oh no« he laughed
But he felt done up It wore him out the conflict in himself Miriam pitied
him now But quite early before nine oclock he rose to go
»Youre not going home are you« asked Mrs Leivers anxiously
»Yes« he replied »I said Id be early« He was very awkward
»But this is early« said Mrs Leivers
Miriam sat in the rockingchair and did not speak He hesitated expecting
her to rise and go with him to the barn as usual for his bicycle She remained
as she was He was at a loss
»Well goodnight all« he faltered
She spoke her goodnight along with all the others But as he went past the
window he looked in She saw him pale his brows knit slightly in a way that had
become constant with him his eyes dark with pain
She rose and went to the doorway to wave goodbye to him as he passed
through the gate He rode slowly under the pinetrees feeling a cur and a
miserable wretch His bicycle went tilting down the hills at random He thought
it would be a relief to break ones neck
Two days later he sent her up a book and a little note urging her to read
and be busy
At this time he gave all his friendship to Edgar He loved the family so
much he loved the farm so much it was the dearest place on earth to him His
home was not so lovable It was his mother But then he would have been just as
happy with his mother anywhere Whereas Willey Farm he loved passionately He
loved the little pokey kitchen where mens boots tramped and the dog slept
with one eye open for fear of being trodden on where the lamp hung over the
table at night and everything was so silent He loved Miriams long low
parlour with its atmosphere of romance its flowers its books its high
rosewood piano He loved the gardens and the buildings that stood with their
scarlet roofs on the naked edges of the fields crept towards the wood as if for
cosiness the wild country scooping down a valley and up the uncultured hills of
the other side Only to be there was an exhilaration and a joy to him He loved
Mrs Leivers with her unworldliness and her quaint cynicism he loved Mr
Leivers so warm and young and lovable he loved Edgar who lit up when he came
and the boys and the children and Bill even the sow Circe and the Indian
gamecock called Tippoo All this besides Miriam He could not give it up
So he went as often but he was usually with Edgar Only all the family
including the father joined in charades and games at evening And later Miriam
drew them together and they read »Macbeth« out of penny books taking parts It
was great excitement Miriam was glad and Mrs Leivers was glad and Mr
Leivers enjoyed it Then they all learned songs together from tonic solfa
singing in a circle round the fire But now Paul was very rarely alone with
Miriam She waited When she and Edgar and he walked home together from chapel
or from the literary society in Bestwood she knew his talk so passionate and
so unorthodox nowadays was for her She did envy Edgar however his cycling
with Paul his Friday nights his days working in the fields For her Friday
nights and her French lessons were gone She was nearly always alone walking
pondering in the wood reading studying dreaming waiting And he wrote to her
frequently
One Sunday evening they attained to their old rare harmony Edgar had stayed
to Communion he wondered what it was like with Mrs Morel So Paul came on
alone with Miriam to his home He was more or less under her spell again As
usual they were discussing the sermon He was setting now full sail towards
Agnosticism but such a religious Agnosticism that Miriam did not suffer so
badly They were at the Renan »Vie de Jésus« stage Miriam was the
threshingfloor on which he threshed out all his beliefs While he trampled his
ideas upon her soul the truth came out for him She alone was his
threshingfloor She alone helped him towards realization Almost impassive she
submitted to his argument and expounding And somehow because of her he
gradually realized where he was wrong And what he realized she realized She
felt he could not do without her
They came to the silent house He took the key out of the scullery window
and they entered All the time he went on with his discussion He lit the gas
mended the fire and brought her some cakes from the pantry She sat on the
sofa quietly with a plate on her knee She wore a large white hat with some
pinkish flowers It was a cheap hat but he liked it Her face beneath was still
and pensive goldenbrown and ruddy Always her ears were hid in her short
curls She watched him
She liked him on Sundays Then he wore a dark suit that showed the lithe
movement of his body There was a clean clearcut look about him He went on
with his thinking to her Suddenly he reached for a Bible Miriam liked the way
he reached up so sharp straight to the mark He turned the pages quickly and
read her a chapter of St John As he sat in the armchair reading intent his
voice only thinking she felt as if he were using her unconsciously as a man
uses his tools at some work he is bent on She loved it And the wistfulness of
his voice was like a reaching to something and it was as if she were what he
reached with She sat back on the sofa away from him and yet feeling herself
the very instrument his hand grasped It gave her great pleasure
Then he began to falter and to get selfconscious And when he came to the
verse »A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow because her hour is come«
he missed it out Miriam had felt him growing uncomfortable She shrank when the
wellknown words did not follow He went on reading but she did not hear A
grief and shame made her bend her head Six months ago he would have read it
simply Now there was a scotch in his running with her Now she felt there was
really something hostile between them something of which they were ashamed
She ate her cake mechanically He tried to go on with his argument but
could not get back the right note Soon Edgar came in Mrs Morel had gone to
her friends The three set off to Willey Farm
Miriam brooded over his split with her There was something else he wanted
He could not be satisfied he could give her no peace There was between them
now always a ground for strife She wanted to prove him She believed that his
chief need in life was herself If she could prove it both to herself and to
him the rest might go she could simply trust to the future
So in May she asked him to come to Willey Farm and meet Mrs Dawes There
was something he hankered after She saw him whenever they spoke of Clara
Dawes rouse and get slightly angry He said he did not like her Yet he was
keen to know about her Well he should put himself to the test She believed
that there were in him desires for higher things and desires for lower and
that the desire for the higher would conquer At any rate he should try She
forgot that her higher and lower were arbitrary
He was rather excited at the idea of meeting Clara at Willey Farm Mrs
Dawes came for the day Her heavy duncoloured hair was coiled on top of her
head She wore a white blouse and navy skirt and somehow wherever she was
seemed to make things look paltry and insignificant When she was in the room
the kitchen seemed too small and mean altogether Miriams beautiful twilighty
parlour looked stiff and stupid All the Leivers were eclipsed like candles
They found her rather hard to put up with Yet she was perfectly amiable but
indifferent and rather hard
Paul did not come till afternoon He was early As he swung off his bicycle
Miriam saw him look round at the house eagerly He would be disappointed if the
visitor had not come Miriam went out to meet him bowing her head because of
the sunshine Nasturtiums were coming out crimson under the cool green shadow of
their leaves The girl stood darkhaired glad to see him
»Hasnt Clara come« he asked
»Yes« replied Miriam in her musical tone »Shes reading«
He wheeled his bicycle into the barn He had put on a handsome tie of which
he was rather proud and socks to match
»She came this morning« he asked
»Yes« replied Miriam as she walked at his side »You said youd bring me
that letter from the man at Libertys Have you remembered«
»Oh dash no« he said »But nag at me till you get it«
»I dont like to nag at you«
»Do it whether or not And is she any more agreeable« he continued
»You know I always think she is quite agreeable«
He was silent Evidently his eagerness to be early today had been the
newcomer Miriam already began to suffer They went together towards the house
He took the clips off his trousers but was too lazy to brush the dust from his
shoes in spite of the socks and tie
Clara sat in the cool parlour reading He saw the nape of her white neck
and the fine hair lifted from it She rose looking at him indifferently To
shake hands she lifted her arm straight in a manner that seemed at once to keep
him at a distance and yet to fling something to him He noticed how her breasts
swelled inside her blouse and how her shoulder curved handsomely under the thin
muslin at the top of her arm
»You have chosen a fine day« he said
»It happens so« she said
»Yes« he said »I am glad«
She sat down not thanking him for his politeness
»What have you been doing all morning« asked Paul of Miriam
»Well you see« said Miriam coughing huskily »Clara only came with father
and so shes not been here very long«
Clara sat leaning on the table holding aloof He noticed her hands were
large but well kept And the skin on them seemed almost coarse opaque and
white with fine golden hairs She did not mind if he observed her hands She
intended to scorn him Her heavy arm lay negligently on the table Her mouth was
closed as if she were offended and she kept her face slightly averted
»You were at Margaret Bonfords meeting the other evening« he said to her
Miriam did not know this courteous Paul Clara glanced at him
»Yes« she said
»Why« asked Miriam »how do you know«
»I went in for a few minutes before the train came« he answered
Clara turned away again rather disdainfully
»I think shes a lovable little woman« said Paul
»Margaret Bonford« exclaimed Clara »Shes a great deal cleverer than most
men«
»Well I didnt say she wasnt« he said deprecating »Shes lovable for
all that«
»And of course that is all that matters« said Clara witheringly
He rubbed his head rather perplexed rather annoyed
»I suppose it matters more than her cleverness« he said »which after all
would never get her to heaven«
»Its not heaven she wants to get its her fair share on earth« retorted
Clara She spoke as if he were responsible for some deprivation which Miss
Bonford suffered
»Well« he said »I thought she was warm and awfully nice only too frail
I wished she was sitting comfortably in peace «
»Darning her husbands stockings« said Clara scathingly
»Im sure she wouldnt mind darning even my stockings« he said »And Im
sure shed do them well Just as I wouldnt mind blacking her boots if she
wanted me to«
But Clara refused to answer this sally of his He talked to Miriam for a
little while The other woman held aloof
»Well« he said »I think Ill go and see Edgar Is he on the land«
»I believe« said Miriam »hes gone for a load of coal He should be back
directly«
»Then« he said »Ill go and meet him«
Miriam dared not propose anything for the three of them He rose and left
them
On the top road where the gorse was out he saw Edgar walking lazily beside
the mare who nodded her whitestarred forehead as she dragged the clanking load
of coal The young farmers face lighted up as he saw his friend Edgar was
goodlooking with dark warm eyes His clothes were old and rather
disreputable and he walked with considerable pride
»Hello« he said seeing Paul bareheaded »Where are you going«
»Came to meet you Cant stand Nevermore«
Edgars teeth flashed in a laugh of amusement
»Who is Nevermore« he asked
»The lady Mrs Dawes it ought to be Mrs The Raven that quothed
Nevermore«
Edgar laughed with glee
»Dont you like her« he asked
»Not a fat lot« said Paul »Why do you«
»No« The answer came with a deep ring of conviction »No« Edgar pursed up
his lips »I cant say shes much in my line« He mused a little Then »But why
do you call her Nevermore« he asked
»Well« said Paul »if she looks at a man she says haughtily Nevermore and
if she looks at herself in the lookingglass she says disdainfully Nevermore
and if she thinks back she says it in disgust and if she looks forward she says
it cynically«
Edgar considered this speech failed to make much out of it and said
laughing
»You think shes a manhater«
»She thinks she is« replied Paul
»But you dont think so«
»No« replied Paul
»Wasnt she nice with you then«
»Could you imagine her nice with anybody« asked the young man
Edgar laughed Together they unloaded the coal in the yard Paul was rather
selfconscious because he knew Clara could see if she looked out of the window
She didnt look
On Saturday afternoons the horses were brushed down and groomed Paul and
Edgar worked together sneezing with the dust that came from the pelts of Jimmy
and Flower
»Do you know a new song to teach me« said Edgar
He continued to work all the time The back of his neck was sunred when he
bent down and his fingers that held the brush were thick Paul watched him
sometimes
»Mary Morrison« suggested the younger
Edgar agreed He had a good tenor voice and he loved to learn all the songs
his friend could teach him so that he could sing whilst he was carting Paul
had a very indifferent baritone voice but a good ear However he sang softly
for fear of Clara Edgar repeated the line in a clear tenor At times they both
broke off to sneeze and first one then the other abused his horse
Miriam was impatient of men It took so little to amuse them even Paul
She thought it anomalous in him that he could be so thoroughly absorbed in a
triviality
It was teatime when they had finished
»What song was that« asked Miriam
Edgar told her The conversation turned to singing
»We have such jolly times« Miriam said to Clara
Mrs Dawes ate her meal in a slow dignified way Whenever the men were
present she grew distant
»Do you like singing« Miriam asked her
»If it is good« she said
Paul of course coloured
»You mean if it is highclass and trained« he said
»I think a voice needs training before the singing is anything« she said
»You might as well insist on having peoples voices trained before you
allowed them to talk« he replied »Really people sing for their own pleasure
as a rule«
»And it may be for other peoples discomfort«
»Then the other people should have flaps to their ears« he replied
The boys laughed There was a silence He flushed deeply and ate in
silence
After tea when all the men had gone but Paul Mrs Leivers said to Clara
»And you find life happier now«
»Infinitely«
»And you are satisfied«
»So long as I can be free and independent«
»And you dont miss anything in your life« asked Mrs Leivers gently
»Ive put all that behind me«
Paul had been feeling uncomfortable during this discourse He got up
»Youll find youre always tumbling over the things youve put behind you«
he said Then he took his departure to the cowsheds He felt he had been witty
and his manly pride was high He whistled as he went down the brick track
Miriam came for him a little later to know if he would go with Clara and her
for a walk They set off down to Strelley Mill Farm As they were going beside
the brook on the Willey Water side looking through the brake at the edge of
the wood where pink campions glowed under a few sunbeams they saw beyond the
treetrunks and the thin hazel bushes a man leading a great bay horse through
the gullies The big red beast seemed to dance romantically through that dimness
of green hazel drift away there where the air was shadowy as if it were in the
past among the fading bluebells that might have bloomed for Deidre or Iseult
The three stood charmed
»What a treat to be a knight« he said »and to have a pavilion here«
»And to have us shut up safely« replied Clara
»Yes« he answered »singing with your maids at your broidery I would carry
your banner of white and green and heliotrope I would have WSPU emblazoned
on my shield beneath a woman rampant«
»I have no doubt« said Clara »that you would much rather fight for a woman
than let her fight for herself«
»I would When she fights for herself she seems like a dog before a
lookingglass gone into a mad fury with its own shadow«
»And you are the lookingglass« she asked with a curl of the lip
»Or the shadow« he replied
»I am afraid« she said »that you are too clever«
»Well I leave it to you to be good« he retorted laughing »Be good sweet
maid and just let me be clever«
But Clara wearied of his flippancy Suddenly looking at her he saw that
the upward lifting of her face was misery and not scorn His heart grew tender
for everybody He turned and was gentle with Miriam whom he had neglected till
then
At the woods edge they met Limb a thin swarthy man of forty tenant of
Strelley Mill which he ran as a cattleraising farm He held the halter of the
powerful stallion indifferently as if he were tired The three stood to let him
pass over the steppingstones of the first brook Paul admired that so large an
animal should walk on such springy toes with an endless excess of vigour Limb
pulled up before them
»Tell your father Miss Leivers« he said in a peculiar piping voice »that
his young beases as broke that bottom fence three days an runnin«
»Which« asked Miriam tremulous
The great horse breathed heavily shifting round its red flanks and looking
suspiciously with its wonderful big eyes upwards from under its lowered head and
falling mane
»Come along a bit« replied Limb »an Ill show you«
The man and the stallion went forward It danced sideways shaking its white
fetlocks and looking frightened as it felt itself in the brook
»No hankypankyin« said the man affectionately to the beast
It went up the bank in little leaps then splashed finely through the second
brook Clara walking with a kind of sulky abandon watched it halffascinated
halfcontemptuous Limb stopped and pointed to the fence under some willows
»There you see where they got through« he said »My mans druv em back
three times«
»Yes« answered Miriam colouring as if she were at fault
»Are you comin in« asked the man
»No thanks but we should like to go by the pond«
»Well just as youve a mind« he said
The horse gave little whinneys of pleasure at being so near home
»He is glad to be back« said Clara who was interested in the creature
»Yes es been a tidy step today«
They went through the gate and saw approaching them from the big farmhouse
a smallish dark excitablelooking woman of about thirtyfive Her hair was
touched with grey her dark eyes looked wild She walked with her hands behind
her back Her brother went forward As it saw her the big bay stallion
whinneyed again She came up excitedly
»Are you home again my boy« she said tenderly to the horse not to the
man The great beast shifted round to her ducking his head She smuggled into
his mouth the wrinkled yellow apple she had been hiding behind her back then
she kissed him near the eyes He gave a big sigh of pleasure She held his head
in her arms against her breast
»Isnt he splendid« said Miriam to her
Miss Limb looked up Her dark eyes glanced straight at Paul
»Oh goodevening Miss Leivers« she said »Its ages since youve been
down«
Miriam introduced her friends
»Your horse is a fine fellow« said Clara
»Isnt he« Again she kissed him »As loving as any man«
»More loving than most men I should think« replied Clara
»Hes a nice boy« cried the woman again embracing the horse
Clara fascinated by the big beast went up to stroke his neck
»Hes quite gentle« said Miss Limb »Dont you think big fellows are«
»Hes a beauty« replied Clara
She wanted to look in his eyes She wanted him to look at her
»Its a pity he cant talk« she said
»Oh but he can all but« replied the other woman
Then her brother moved on with the horse
»Are you coming in Do come in Mr I didnt catch it«
»Morel« said Miriam »No we wont come in but we should like to go by the
millpond«
»Yes yes do Do you fish Mr Morel«
»No« said Paul
»Because if you do you might come and fish any time« said Miss Limb »We
scarcely see a soul from weeks end to weeks end I should be thankful«
»What fish are there in the pond« he asked
They went through the front garden over the sluice and up the steep bank
to the pond which lay in shadow with its two wooded islets Paul walked with
Miss Limb
»I shouldnt mind swimming here« he said
»Do« she replied »Come when you like My brother will be awfully pleased
to talk with you He is so quiet because there is no one to talk to Do come
and swim«
Clara came up
»Its a fine depth« she said »and so clear«
»Yes« said Miss Limb
»Do you swim« said Paul »Miss Limb was just saying we could come when we
liked«
»Of course theres the farmhands« said Miss Limb
They talked a few moments then went on up the wild hill leaving the
lonely haggardeyed woman on the bank
The hillside was all ripe with sunshine It was wild and tussocky given
over to rabbits The three walked in silence Then
»She makes me feel uncomfortable« said Paul
»You mean Miss Limb« asked Miriam »Yes«
»Whats a matter with her Is she going dotty with being too lonely«
»Yes« said Miriam »Its not the right sort of life for her I think its
cruel to bury her there I really ought to go and see her more But she upsets
me«
»She makes me feel sorry for her yes and she bothers me« he said
»I suppose« blurted Clara suddenly »she wants a man«
The other two were silent for a few moments
»But its the loneliness sends her cracked« said Paul
Clara did not answer but strode on uphill She was walking with her hand
hanging her legs swinging as she kicked through the dead thistles and the
tussocky grass her arms hanging loose Rather than walking her handsome body
seemed to be blundering up the hill A hot wave went over Paul He was curious
about her Perhaps life had been cruel to her He forgot Miriam who was walking
beside him talking to him She glanced at him finding he did not answer her
His eyes were fixed ahead on Clara
»Do you still think she is disagreeable« she asked
He did not notice that the question was sudden It ran with his thoughts
»Somethings the matter with her« he said
»Yes« answered Miriam
They found at the top of the hill a hidden wild field two sides of which
were backed by the wood the other sides by high loose hedges of hawthorn and
elder bushes Between these overgrown bushes were gaps that the cattle might
have walked through had there been any cattle now There the turf was smooth as
velveteen padded and holed by the rabbits The field itself was coarse and
crowded with tall big cowslips that had never been cut Clusters of strong
flowers rose everywhere above the coarse tussocks of bent It was like a
roadstead crowded with tall fairy shipping
»Ah« cried Miriam and she looked at Paul her dark eyes dilating He
smiled Together they enjoyed the field of flowers Clara a little way off was
looking at the cowslips disconsolately Paul and Miriam stayed close together
talking in subdued tones He kneeled on one knee quickly gathering the best
blossoms moving from tuft to tuft restlessly talking softly all the time
Miriam plucked the flowers lovingly lingering over them He always seemed to
her too quick and almost scientific Yet his bunches had a natural beauty more
than hers He loved them but as if they were his and he had a right to them
She had more reverence for them they held something she had not
The flowers were very fresh and sweet He wanted to drink them As he
gathered them he ate the little yellow trumpets Clara was still wandering
about disconsolately Going towards her he said
»Why dont you get some«
»I dont believe in it They look better growing«
»But youd like some«
»They want to be left«
»I dont believe they do«
»I dont want the corpses of flowers about me« she said
»Thats a stiff artificial notion« he said »They dont die any quicker in
water than on their roots And besides they look nice in a bowl they look
jolly And you only call a thing a corpse because it looks corpselike«
»Whether it is one or not« she argued
»It isnt one to me A dead flower isnt a corpse of a flower«
Clara now ignored him
»And even so what right have you to pull them« she asked
»Because I like them and want them and theres plenty of them«
»And that is sufficient«
»Yes Why not Im sure theyd smell nice in your room in Nottingham«
»And I should have the pleasure of watching them die«
»But then it does not matter if they do die«
Whereupon he left her and went stooping over the clumps of tangled flowers
which thickly sprinkled the field like pale luminous foamclots Miriam had
come close Clara was kneeling breathing some scent from the cowslips
»I think« said Miriam »if you treat them with reverence you dont do them
any harm It is the spirit you pluck them in that matters«
»Yes« he said »But no you get em because you want em and thats all«
He held out his bunch
Miriam was silent He picked some more
»Look at these« he continued »sturdy and lusty like little trees and like
boys with fat legs«
Claras hat lay on the grass not far off She was kneeling bending forward
still to smell the flowers Her neck gave him a sharp pang such a beautiful
thing yet not proud of itself just now Her breasts swung slightly in her
blouse The arching curve of her back was beautiful and strong she wore no
stays Suddenly without knowing he was scattering a handful of cowslips over
her hair and neck saying
»Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
If the Lord wont have you the devil must«
The chill flowers fell on her neck She looked up at him with almost pitiful
scared grey eyes wondering what he was doing Flowers fell on her face and she
shut her eyes
Suddenly standing there above her he felt awkward
»I thought you wanted a funeral« he said ill at ease
Clara laughed strangely and rose picking the cowslips from her hair She
took up her hat and pinned it on One flower had remained tangled in her hair
He saw but would not tell her He gathered up the flowers he had sprinkled over
her
At the edge of the wood the bluebells had flowed over into the field and
stood there like floodwater But they were fading now Clara strayed up to
them He wandered after her The bluebells pleased him
»Look how theyve come out of the wood« he said
Then she turned with a flash of warmth and of gratitude
»Yes« she smiled
His blood beat up
»It makes me think of the wild men of the woods how terrified they would be
when they got breast to breast with the open space«
»Do you think they were« she asked
»I wonder which was more frightened among old tribes those bursting out of
their darkness of woods upon all the space of light or those from the open
tiptoeing into the forests«
»I should think the second« she answered
»Yes you do feel like one of the open space sort trying to force yourself
into the dark dont you«
»How should I know« she answered queerly
The conversation ended there
The evening was deepening over the earth Already the valley was full of
shadow One tiny square of light stood opposite at Crossleigh Bank Farm
Brightness was swimming on the tops of the hills Miriam came up slowly her
face in her big loose bunch of flowers walking ankledeep through the
scattered froth of the cowslips Beyond her the trees were coming into shape
all shadow
»Shall we go« she asked
And the three turned away They were all silent Going down the path they
could see the light of home right across and on the ridge of the hill a thin
dark outline with little lights where the colliery village touched the sky
»It has been nice hasnt it« he asked
Miriam murmured assent Clara was silent
»Dont you think so« he persisted
But she walked with her head up and still did not answer He could tell by
the way she moved as if she didnt care that she suffered
At this time Paul took his mother to Lincoln She was bright and
enthusiastic as ever but as he sat opposite her in the railway carriage she
seemed to look frail He had a momentary sensation as if she were slipping away
from him Then he wanted to get hold of her to fasten her almost to chain her
He felt he must keep hold of her with his hand
They drew near to the city Both were at the window looking for the
cathedral
»There she is mother« he cried
They saw the great cathedral lying couchant above the plain
»Ah« she exclaimed »So she is«
He looked at his mother Her blue eyes were watching the cathedral quietly
She seemed again to be beyond him Something in the eternal repose of the
uplifted cathedral blue and noble against the sky was reflected in her
something of the fatality What was was With all his young will he could not
alter it He saw her face the skin still fresh and pink and downy but
crowsfeet near her eyes her eyelids steady sinking a little her mouth
always closed with disillusion and there was on her the same eternal look as
if she knew fate at last He beat against it with all the strength of his soul
»Look mother how big she is above the town Think there are streets and
streets below her She looks bigger than the city altogether«
»So she does« exclaimed his mother breaking bright into life again But he
had seen her sitting looking steady out of the window at the cathedral her
face and eyes fixed reflecting the relentlessness of life And the crowsfeet
near her eyes and her mouth shut so hard made him feel he would go mad
They ate a meal that she considered wildly extravagant
»Dont imagine I like it« she said as she ate her cutlet »I dont like
it I really dont Just think of your money wasted«
»You never mind my money« he said »You forget Im a fellow taking his girl
for an outing«
And he bought her some blue violets
»Stop it at once sir« she commanded »How can I do it«
»Youve got nothing to do Stand still«
And in the middle of High Street he stuck the flowers in her coat
»An old thing like me« she said sniffing
»You see« he said »I want people to think were awful swells So look
ikey«
»Ill jowl your head« she laughed
»Strut« he commanded »Be a fantail pigeon«
It took him an hour to get her through the street She stood above Glory
Hole she stood before Stone Bow she stood everywhere and exclaimed
A man came up took off his hat and bowed to her
»Can I show you the town madam«
»No thank you« she answered »Ive got my son«
Then Paul was cross with her for not answering with more dignity
»You go away with you« she exclaimed »Ha thats the Jews House Now do
you remember that lecture Paul «
But she could scarcely climb the cathedral hill He did not notice Then
suddenly he found her unable to speak He took her into a little publichouse
where she rested
»Its nothing« she said »My heart is only a bit old one must expect it«
He did not answer but looked at her Again his heart was crushed in a hot
grip He wanted to cry he wanted to smash things in fury
They set off again pace by pace so slowly And every step seemed like a
weight on his chest He felt as if his heart would burst At last they came to
the top She stood enchanted looking at the castle gate looking at the
cathedral front She had quite forgotten herself
»Now this is better than I thought it could be« she cried
But he hated it Everywhere he followed her brooding They sat together in
the cathedral They attended a little service in the choir She was timid
»I suppose it is open to anybody« she asked him
»Yes« he replied »Do you think theyd have the damned cheek to send us
away«
»Well Im sure« she exclaimed »they would if they heard your language«
Her face seemed to shine again with joy and peace during the service And
all the time he was wanting to rage and smash things and cry
Afterwards when they were leaning over the wall looking at the town below
he blurted suddenly
»Why cant a man have a young mother What is she old for«
»Well« his mother laughed »she can scarcely help it«
»And why wasnt I the oldest son Look they say the young ones have the
advantage but look they had the young mother You should have had me for your
eldest son«
»I didnt arrange it« she remonstrated »Come to consider youre as much
to blame as me«
He turned on her white his eyes furious
»What are you old for« he said mad with his impotence »Why cant you
walk Why cant you come with me to places«
»At one time« she replied »I could have run up that hill a good deal
better than you«
»Whats the good of that to me« he cried hitting his fist on the wall
Then he became plaintive »Its too bad of you to be ill Little it is «
»Ill« she cried »Im a bit old and youll have to put up with it thats
all«
They were quiet But it was as much as they could bear They got jolly again
over tea As they sat by Brayford watching the boats he told her about Clara
His mother asked him innumerable questions
»Then who does she live with«
»With her mother on Bluebell Hill«
»And have they enough to keep them«
»I dont think so I think they do lace work«
»And wherein lies her charm my boy«
»I dont know that shes charming mother But shes nice And she seems
straight you know not a bit deep not a bit«
»But shes a good deal older than you«
»Shes thirty Im going of twentythree«
»You havent told me what you like her for«
»Because I dont know a sort of defiant way shes got a sort of angry
way«
Mrs Morel considered She would have been glad now for her son to fall in
love with some woman who would she did not know what But he fretted so got
so furious suddenly and again was melancholic She wished he knew some nice
woman She did not know what she wished but left it vague At any rate she
was not hostile to the idea of Clara
Annie too was getting married Leonard had gone away to work in
Birmingham One weekend when he was home she had said to him
»You dont look very well my lad«
»I dunno« he said »I feel anyhow or nohow ma«
He called her ma already in his boyish fashion
»Are you sure theyre good lodgings« she asked
»Yes yes Only its a winder when you have to pour your own tea out
an nobody to grouse if you team it in your saucer and sup it up It somehow
takes a the taste out of it«
Mrs Morel laughed
»And so it knocks you up« she said
»I dunno I want to get married« he blurted twisting his fingers and
looking down at his boots There was a silence
»But« she exclaimed »I thought you said youd wait another year«
»Yes I did say so« he replied stubbornly
Again she considered
»And you know« she said »Annies a bit of a spendthrift Shes saved no
more than eleven pounds And I know lad you havent had much chance«
He coloured up to the ears
»Ive got thirtythree quid« he said
»It doesnt go far« she answered
He said nothing but twisted his fingers
»And you know« she said »Ive nothing «
»I didnt want ma« he cried very red suffering and remonstrating
»No my lad I know I was only wishing I had And take away five pounds for
the wedding and things it leaves twentynine pounds You wont do much on
that«
He twisted still impotent stubborn not looking up
»But do you really want to get married« she asked »Do you feel as if you
ought«
He gave her one straight look from his blue eyes
»Yes« he said
»Then« she replied »we must all do the best we can for it lad«
The next time he looked up there were tears in his eyes
»I dont want Annie to feel handicapped« he said struggling
»My lad« she said »youre steady youve got a decent place If a man had
needed me Id have married him on his last weeks wages She may find it a bit
hard to start humbly Young girls are like that They look forward to the fine
home they think theyll have But I had expensive furniture Its not
everything«
So the wedding took place almost immediately Arthur came home and was
splendid in uniform Annie looked nice in a dovegrey dress that she could take
for Sundays Morel called her a fool for getting married and was cool with his
soninlaw Mrs Morel had white tips in her bonnet and some white on her
blouse and was teased by both her sons for fancying herself so grand Leonard
was jolly and cordial and felt a fearful fool Paul could not quite see what
Annie wanted to get married for He was fond of her and she of him Still he
hoped rather lugubriously that it would turn out all right Arthur was
astonishingly handsome in his scarlet and yellow and he knew it well but was
secretly ashamed of the uniform Annie cried her eyes up in the kitchen on
leaving her mother Mrs Morel cried a little then patted her on the back and
said
»But dont cry child hell be good to you«
Morel stamped and said she was a fool to go and tie herself up Leonard
looked white and overwrought Mrs Morel said to him
»I sll trust her to you my lad and hold you responsible for her«
»You can« he said nearly dead with the ordeal And it was all over
When Morel and Arthur were in bed Paul sat talking as he often did with
his mother
»Youre not sorry shes married mother are you« he asked
»Im not sorry shes married but it seems strange that she should go
from me It even seems to me hard that she can prefer to go with her Leonard
Thats how mothers are I know its silly«
»And shall you be miserable about her«
»When I think of my own wedding day« his mother answered »I can only hope
her life will be different«
»But you can trust him to be good to her«
»Yes yes They say hes not good enough for her But I say if a man is
genuine as he is and a girl is fond of him then it should be all right
Hes as good as she«
»So you dont mind«
»I would never have let a daughter of mine marry a man I didnt feel to be
genuine through and through And yet theres a gap now shes gone«
They were both miserable and wanted her back again It seemed to Paul his
mother looked lonely in her new black silk blouse with its bit of white
trimming
»At any rate mother I sll never marry« he said
»Ay they all say that my lad Youve not met the one yet Only wait a year
or two«
»But I shant marry mother I shall live with you and well have a
servant«
»Ay my lad its easy to talk Well see when the time comes«
»What time Im nearly twentythree«
»Yes youre not one that would marry young But in three years time «
»I shall be with you just the same«
»Well see my boy well see«
»But you dont want me to marry«
»I shouldnt like to think of you going through your life without anybody to
care for you and do no«
»And you think I ought to marry«
»Sooner or later every man ought«
»But youd rather it were later«
»It would be hard and very hard Its as they say
A sons my son till he takes him a wife
But my daughters my daughter the whole of her life«
»And you think Id let a wife take me from you«
»Well you wouldnt ask her to marry your mother as well as you« Mrs Morel
smiled
»She could do what she liked she wouldnt have to interfere«
»She wouldnt till shed got you and then youd see«
»I never will see Ill never marry while Ive got you I wont«
»But I shouldnt like to leave you with nobody my boy« she cried
»Youre not going to leave me What are you Fiftythree Ill give you till
seventyfive There you are Im fat and fortyfour Then Ill marry a staid
body See«
His mother sat and laughed
»Go to bed« she said »go to bed«
»And well have a pretty house you and me and a servant and itll be just
all right I sll perhaps be rich with my painting«
»Will you go to bed«
»And then you sll have a ponycarriage See yourself a little Queen
Victoria trotting round«
»I tell you to go to bed« she laughed
He kissed her and went His plans for the future were always the same
Mrs Morel sat brooding about her daughter about Paul about Arthur She
fretted at losing Annie The family was very closely bound And she felt she
must live now to be with her children Life was so rich for her Paul wanted
her and so did Arthur Arthur never knew how deeply he loved her He was a
creature of the moment Never yet had he been forced to realise himself The
army had disciplined his body but not his soul He was in perfect health and
very handsome His dark vigorous hair sat close to his smallish head There was
something childish about his nose something almost girlish about his dark blue
eyes But he had the full red mouth of a man under his brown moustache and his
jaw was strong It was his fathers mouth it was the nose and eyes of her own
mothers people goodlooking weakprincipled folk Mrs Morel was anxious
about him Once he had really run the rig he was safe But how far would he go
The army had not really done him any good He resented bitterly the
authority of the officers He hated having to obey as if he were an animal But
he had too much sense to kick So he turned his attention to getting the best
out of it He could sing he was a booncompanion Often he got into scrapes
but they were the manly scrapes that are easily condoned So he made a good time
out of it whilst his selfrespect was in suppression He trusted to his good
looks and handsome figure his refinement his decent education to get him most
of what he wanted and he was not disappointed Yet he was restless Something
seemed to gnaw him inside He was never still he was never alone With his
mother he was rather humble Paul he admired and loved and despised slightly
And Paul admired and loved and despised him slightly
Mrs Morel had had a few pounds left to her by her father and she decided
to buy her son out of the army He was wild with joy Now he was like a lad
taking a holiday
He had always been fond of Beatrice Wyld and during his furlough he picked
up with her again She was stronger and better in health The two often went
long walks together Arthur taking her arm in soldiers fashion rather stiffly
And she came to play the piano whilst he sang Then Arthur would unhook his
tunic collar He grew flushed his eyes were bright he sang in a manly tenor
Afterwards they sat together on the sofa He seemed to flaunt his body she was
aware of him so the strong chest the sides the thighs in their closefitting
trousers
He liked to lapse into the dialect when he talked to her She would
sometimes smoke with him Occasionally she would only take a few whiffs at his
cigarette
»Nay« he said to her one evening when she reached for his cigarette »Nay
tha doesna Ill gie thee a smoke kiss if ters a mind«
»I wanted a whiff no kiss at all« she answered
»Well an tha slt hae a whiff« he said »along wi t kiss«
»I want a draw at thy fag« she cried snatching for the cigarette between
his lips
He was sitting with his shoulder touching her She was small and quick as
lightning He just escaped
»Ill gie thee a smoke kiss« he said
»Thart a knivey nuisance Arty Morel« she said sitting back
»Hae a smoke kiss«
The soldier leaned forward to her smiling His face was near hers
»Shonna« she replied turning away her head
He took a draw at his cigarette and pursed up his mouth and put his lips
close to her His darkbrown cropped moustache stood out like a brush She
looked at the puckered crimson lips then suddenly snatched the cigarette from
his fingers and darted away He leaping after her seized the comb from her
back hair She turned threw the cigarette at him He picked it up put it in
his mouth and sat down
»Nuisance« she cried »Give me my comb«
She was afraid that her hair specially done for him would come down She
stood with her hands to her head He hid the comb between his knees
»Ive non got it« he said
The cigarette trembled between his lips with laughter as he spoke
»Liar« she said
»S true as Im here« he laughed showing his hands
»You brazen imp« she exclaimed rushing and scuffling for the comb which
he had under his knees As she wrestled with him pulling at his smooth
tightcovered knees he laughed till he lay back on the sofa shaking with
laughter The cigarette fell from his mouth almost singeing his throat Under
his delicate tan the blood flushed up and he laughed till his blue eyes were
blinded his throat swollen almost to choking Then he sat up Beatrice was
putting in her comb
»Tha tickled me Beat« he said thickly
Like a flash her small white hand went out and smacked his face He started
up glaring at her They stared at each other Slowly the flush mounted her
cheek she dropped her eyes then her head He sat down sulkily She went into
the scullery to adjust her hair In private there she shed a few tears she did
not know what for
When she returned she was pursed up close But it was only a film over her
fire He with ruffled hair was sulking upon the sofa She sat down opposite
in the armchair and neither spoke The clock ticked in the silence like blows
»You are a little cat Beat« he said at length half apologetically
»Well you shouldnt be brazen« she replied
There was again a long silence He whistled to himself like a man much
agitated but defiant Suddenly she went across to him and kissed him
»Did it pore fing« she mocked
He lifted his face smiling curiously
»Kiss« he invited her
»Darent I« she asked
»Go on« he challenged his mouth lifted to her
Deliberately and with a peculiar quivering smile that seemed to overspread
her whole body she put her mouth on his Immediately his arms folded round her
As soon as the long kiss was finished she drew back her head from him put her
delicate fingers on his neck through the open collar Then she closed her eyes
giving herself up again in a kiss
She acted of her own free will What she would do she did and made nobody
responsible
Paul felt life changing around him The conditions of youth were gone Now it
was a home of grownup people Annie was a married woman Arthur was following
his own pleasure in a way unknown to his folk For so long they had all lived at
home and gone out to pass their time But now for Annie and Arthur life lay
outside their mothers house They came home for holiday and for rest So there
was that strange halfempty feeling about the house as if the birds had flown
Paul became more and more unsettled Annie and Arthur had gone He was restless
to follow Yet home was for him beside his mother And still there was something
else something outside something he wanted
He grew more and more restless Miriam did not satisfy him His old mad
desire to be with her grew weaker Sometimes he met Clara in Nottingham
sometimes he went to meetings with her sometimes he saw her at Willey Farm But
on these last occasions the situation became strained There was a triangle of
antagonism between Paul and Clara and Miriam With Clara he took on a smart
worldly mocking tone very antagonistic to Miriam It did not matter what went
before She might be intimate and sad with him Then as soon as Clara appeared
it all vanished and he played to the newcomer
Miriam had one beautiful evening with him in the hay He had been on the
horserake and having finished came to help her to put the hay in cocks Then
he talked to her of his hopes and despairs and his whole soul seemed to lie
bare before her She felt as if she watched the very quivering stuff of life in
him The moon came out they walked home together he seemed to have come to her
because he needed her so badly and she listened to him gave him all her love
and her faith It seemed to her he brought her the best of himself to keep and
that she would guard it all her life Nay the sky did not cherish the stars
more surely and eternally than she would guard the good in the soul of Paul
Morel She went on home alone feeling exalted glad in her faith
And then the next day Clara came They were to have tea in the hayfield
Miriam watched the evening drawing to gold and shadow And all the time Paul was
sporting with Clara He made higher and higher heaps of hay that they were
jumping over Miriam did not care for the game and stood aside Edgar and
Geoffrey and Maurice and Clara and Paul jumped Paul won because he was light
Claras blood was roused She could run like an Amazon Paul loved the
determined way she rushed at the haycock and leaped landed on the other side
her breasts shaken her thick hair come undone
»You touched« he cried »You touched«
»No« she flashed turning to Edgar »I didnt touch did I« »Wasnt I
clear«
»I couldnt say« laughed Edgar
None of them could say
»But you touched« said Paul »Youre beaten«
»I did not touch« she cried
»As plain as anything« said Paul
»Box his ears for me« she cried to Edgar
»Nay« Edgar laughed »I darent You must do it yourself«
»And nothing can alter the fact that you touched« laughed Paul
She was furious with him Her little triumph before these lads and men was
gone She had forgotten herself in the game Now he was to humble her
»I think you are despicable« she said
And again he laughed in a way that tortured Miriam
»And I knew you couldnt jump that heap« he teased
She turned her back on him Yet everybody could see that the only person she
listened to or was conscious of was he and he of her It pleased the men to
see this battle between them But Miriam was tortured
Paul could choose the lesser in place of the higher she saw He could be
unfaithful to himself unfaithful to the real deep Paul Morel There was a
danger of his becoming frivolous of his running after his satisfaction like any
Arthur or like his father It made Miriam bitter to think that he should throw
away his soul for this flippant traffic of triviality with Clara She walked in
bitterness and silence while the other two rallied each other and Paul
sported
And afterwards he would not own it but he was rather ashamed of himself
and prostrated himself before Miriam Then again he rebelled
»Its not religious to be religious« he said »I reckon a crow is religious
when it sails across the sky But it only does it because it feels itself
carried to where its going not because it thinks it is being eternal«
But Miriam knew that one should be religious in everything have God
whatever God might be present in everything
»I dont believe God knows such a lot about Himself« he cried »God doesnt
know things He is things And Im sure Hes not soulful«
And then it seemed to her that Paul was arguing God on to his own side
because he wanted his own way and his own pleasure There was a long battle
between him and her He was utterly unfaithful to her even in her own presence
then he was ashamed then repentant then he hated her and went off again
Those were the everrecurring conditions
She fretted him to the bottom of his soul There she remained sad
pensive a worshipper And he caused her sorrow Half the time he grieved for
her half the time he hated her She was his conscience and he felt somehow
he had got a conscience that was too much for him He could not leave her
because in one way she did hold the best of him He could not stay with her
because she did not take the rest of him which was threequarters So he chafed
himself into rawness over her
When she was twentyone he wrote her a letter which could only have been
written to her
»May I speak of our old worn love this last time It too is
changing is it not Say has not the body of that love died and left
you its invulnerable soul You see I can give you a spirit love I have
given it you this long long time but not embodied passion See you
are a nun I have given you what I would give a holy nun as a mystic
monk to a mystic nun Surely you esteem it best Yet you regret no
have regretted the other In all our relations no body enters I do
not talk to you through the senses rather through the spirit That is
why we cannot love in the common sense Ours is not an everyday
affection As yet we are mortal and to live side by side with one
another would be dreadful for somehow with you I cannot long be
trivial and you know to be always beyond this mortal state would be
to lose it If people marry they must live together as affectionate
humans who may be commonplace with each other without feeling awkward
not as two souls So I feel it
Ought I to send this letter I doubt it But there it is best to
understand Au revoir«
Miriam read this letter twice after which she sealed it up A year later she
broke the seal to show her mother the letter
»You are a nun you are a nun« The words went into her heart again and
again Nothing he ever had said had gone into her so deeply fixedly like a
mortal wound
She answered him two days after the party
»Our intimacy would have been allbeautiful but for one little mistake« she
quoted »Was the mistake mine«
Almost immediately he replied to her from Nottingham sending her at the
same time a little Omar Khayyám
»I am glad you answered you are so calm and natural you put me to
shame What a ranter I am We are often out of sympathy But in
fundamentals we may always be together I think
I must thank you for your sympathy with my painting and drawing
Many a sketch is dedicated to you I do look forward to your criticisms
which to my shame and glory are always grand appreciations It is a
lovely joke that Au revoir«
This was the end of the first phase of Pauls love affair He was now about
twentythree years old and though still virgin the sex instinct that Miriam
had overrefined for so long now grew particularly strong Often as he talked
to Clara Dawes came that thickening and quickening of his blood that peculiar
concentration in the breast as if something were alive there a new self or a
new centre of consciousness, warning him that sooner or later he would have to
ask one woman or another But he belonged to Miriam Of that she was so fixedly
sure that he allowed her right
Chapter X
Clara
When he was twentythree years old Paul sent in a landscape to the winter
exhibition at Nottingham Castle Miss Jordan had taken a good deal of interest
in him and invited him to her house where he met other artists He was
beginning to grow ambitious
One morning the postman came just as he was washing in the scullery
Suddenly he heard a wild noise from his mother Rushing into the kitchen he
found her standing on the hearthrug wildly waving a letter and crying »Hurrah«
as if she had gone mad He was shocked and frightened
»Why mother« he exclaimed
She flew to him flung her arms round him for a moment then waved the
letter crying
»Hurrah my boy I knew we should do it«
He was afraid of her the small severe woman with greying hair suddenly
bursting out in such frenzy The postman came running back afraid something had
happened They saw his tipped cap over the short curtains Mrs Morel rushed to
the door
»His pictures got first prize Fred« she cried »and is sold for twenty
guineas«
»My word thats something like« said the young postman whom they had
known all his life
»And Major Moreton has bought it« she cried
»It looks like meanin something that does Mrs Morel« said the postman
his blue eyes bright He was glad to have brought such a lucky letter Mrs
Morel went indoors and sat down trembling Paul was afraid lest she might have
misread the letter and might be disappointed after all He scrutinised it once
twice Yes he became convinced it was true Then he sat down his heart beating
with joy
»Mother« he exclaimed
»Didnt I say we should do it« she said pretending she was not crying
He took the kettle off the fire and mashed the tea
»You didnt think mother « he began tentatively
»No my son not so much but I expected a good deal«
»But not so much« he said
»No no but I knew we should do it«
And then she recovered her composure apparently at least He sat with his
shirt turned back showing his young throat almost like a girls and the towel
in his hand his hair sticking up wet
»Twenty guineas mother Thats just what you wanted to buy Arthur out Now
you neednt borrow any Itll just do«
»Indeed I shant take it all« she said
»But why«
»Because I shant«
»Well you have twelve pounds Ill have nine«
They cavilled about sharing the twenty guineas She wanted to take only the
five pounds she needed He would not hear of it So they got over the stress of
emotion by quarrelling
Morel came home at night from the pit saying
»They tell me Pauls got first prize for his picture and sold it to Lord
Henry Bentley for fifty pound«
»Oh what stories people do tell« she cried
»Ha« he answered »I said I wor sure it wor a lie But they said thad told
Fred Hodgkisson«
»As if I would tell him such stuff«
»Ha« assented the miner
But he was disappointed nevertheless
»Its true he has got the first prize« said Mrs Morel
The miner sat heavily in his chair
»Has he beguy« he exclaimed
He stared across the room fixedly
»But as for fifty pounds such nonsense« She was silent awhile »Major
Moreton bought it for twenty guineas thats true«
»Twenty guineas Tha niver says« exclaimed Morel
»Yes and it was worth it«
»Ay« he said »I dont misdoubt it But twenty guineas for a bit of a
paintin as he knocked off in an hour or two«
He was silent with conceit of his son Mrs Morel sniffed as if it were
nothing
»And when does he handle th money« asked the collier
»That I couldnt tell you When the picture is sent home I suppose«
There was silence Morel stared at the sugarbasin instead of eating his
dinner His black arm with the hand all gnarled with work lay on the table His
wife pretended not to see him rub the back of his hand across his eyes nor the
smear in the coaldust on his black face
»Yes an that other lad ud a done as much if they hadna ha killed im«
he said quietly
The thought of William went through Mrs Morel like a cold blade It left
her feeling she was tired and wanted rest
Paul was invited to dinner at Mr Jordans Afterwards he said
»Mother I want an evening suit«
»Yes I was afraid you would« she said She was glad There was a moment or
two of silence »Theres that one of Williams« she continued »that I know
cost four pounds ten and which hed only worn three times«
»Should you like me to wear it mother« he asked
»Yes I think it would fit you at least the coat The trousers would want
shortening«
He went upstairs and put on the coat and vest Coming down he looked
strange in a flannel collar and a flannel shirtfront with an evening coat and
vest It was rather large
»The tailor can make it right« she said smoothing her hand over his
shoulder »Its beautiful stuff I never could find in my heart to let your
father wear the trousers and very glad I am now«
And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar she thought of her eldest
son But this son was living enough inside the clothes She passed her hand down
his back to feel him He was alive and hers The other was dead
He went out to dinner several times in his evening suit that had been
Williams Each time his mothers heart was firm with pride and joy He was
started now The studs she and the children had bought for William were in his
shirtfront he wore one of Williams dress shirts But he had an elegant
figure His face was rough but warmlooking and rather pleasing He did not
look particularly a gentleman but she thought he looked quite a man
He told her everything that took place everything that was said It was as
if she had been there And he was dying to introduce her to these new friends
who had dinner at seventhirty in the evening
»Go along with you« she said »What do they want to know me for«
»They do« he cried indignantly »If they want to know me and they say
they do then they want to know you because you are quite as clever as I am«
»Go along with you child« she laughed
But she began to spare her hands They too were workgnarled now The skin
was shiny with so much hot water the knuckles rather swollen But she began to
be careful to keep them out of soda She regretted what they had been so small
and exquisite And when Annie insisted on her having more stylish blouses to
suit her age she submitted She even went so far as to allow a black velvet bow
to be placed on her hair Then she sniffed in her sarcastic manner and was sure
she looked a sight But she looked a lady Paul declared as much as Mrs Major
Moreton and far far nicer The family was coming on Only Morel remained
unchanged or rather lapsed slowly
Paul and his mother now had long discussions about life Religion was fading
into the background He had shovelled away all the beliefs that would hamper
him had cleared the ground and come more or less to the bedrock of belief that
one should feel inside oneself for right and wrong and should have the patience
to gradually realise ones God Now life interested him more
»You know« he said to his mother »I dont want to belong to the welltodo
middle class I like my common people best I belong to the common people«
»But if anyone else said so my son wouldnt you be in a tear You know you
consider yourself equal to any gentleman«
»In myself« he answered »not in my class or my education or my manners
But in myself I am«
»Very well then Then why talk about the common people«
»Because the difference between people isnt in their class but in
themselves. Only from the middle classes one gets ideas, and from the common
people life itself warmth You feel their hates and loves«
»Its all very well my boy But then why dont you go and talk to your
fathers pals«
»But theyre rather different«
»Not at all Theyre the common people After all whom do you mix with now
among the common people Those that exchange ideas like the middle classes
The rest dont interest you«
»But theres the life «
»I dont believe theres a jot more life from Miriam than you could get from
any educated girl say Miss Moreton It is you who are snobbish about class«
She frankly wanted him to climb into the middle classes a thing not very
difficult she knew And she wanted him in the end to marry a lady
Now she began to combat him in his restless fretting He still kept up his
connection with Miriam could neither break free nor go the whole length of
engagement And this indecision seemed to bleed him of his energy Moreover his
mother suspected him of an unrecognised leaning towards Clara and since the
latter was a married woman she wished he would fall in love with one of the
girls in a better station of life But he was stupid and would refuse to love
or even to admire a girl much just because she was his social superior
»My boy« said his mother to him »all your cleverness your breaking away
from old things and taking life in your own hands doesnt seem to bring you
much happiness«
»What is happiness« he cried »Its nothing to me How am I to be happy«
The plump question disturbed her
»Thats for you to judge my lad But if you could meet some good woman who
would make you happy and you began to think of settling your life when you
have the means so that you could work without all this fretting it would be
much better for you«
He frowned His mother caught him on the raw of his wound of Miriam He
pushed the tumbled hair off his forehead his eyes full of pain and fire
»You mean easy mother« he cried »Thats a womans whole doctrine for life
ease of soul and physical comfort And I do despise it«
»Oh do you« replied his mother »And do you call yours a divine
discontent«
»Yes I dont care about its divinity But damn your happiness So long as
lifes full it doesnt matter whether its happy or not Im afraid your
happiness would bore me«
»You never give it a chance« she said Then suddenly all her passion of
grief over him broke out »But it does matter« she cried »And you ought to be
happy you ought to try to be happy to live to be happy How could I bear to
think your life wouldnt be a happy one«
»Your owns been bad enough mater but it hasnt left you so much worse off
than the folk whove been happier I reckon youve done well And I am the same
Arent I well enough off«
»Youre not my son Battle battle and suffer Its about all you do as
far as I can see«
»But why not my dear I tell you its the best «
»It isnt And one ought to be happy one ought«
By this time Mrs Morel was trembling violently Struggles of this kind
often took place between her and her son when she seemed to fight for his very
life against his own will to die He took her in his arms She was ill and
pitiful
»Never mind Little« he murmured »So long as you dont feel lifes paltry
and a miserable business the rest doesnt matter happiness or unhappiness«
She pressed him to her
»But I want you to be happy« she said pathetically
»Eh my dear say rather you want me to live«
Mrs Morel felt as if her heart would break for him At this rate she knew
he would not live He had that poignant carelessness about himself his own
suffering his own life which is a form of slow suicide It almost broke her
heart With all the passion of her strong nature she hated Miriam for having in
this subtle way undermined his joy It did not matter to her that Miriam could
not help it Miriam did it and she hated her
She wished so much he would fall in love with a girl equal to be his mate
educated and strong But he would not look at anybody above him in station He
seemed to like Mrs Dawes At any rate that feeling was wholesome His mother
prayed and prayed for him that he might not be wasted That was all her prayer
not for his soul or his righteousness but that he might not be wasted And
while he slept for hours and hours she thought and prayed for him
He drifted away from Miriam imperceptibly without knowing he was going
Arthur only left the army to be married The baby was born six months after his
wedding Mrs Morel got him a job under the firm again at twentyone shillings
a week She furnished for him with the help of Beatrices mother a little
cottage of two rooms He was caught now It did not matter how he kicked and
struggled he was fast For a time he chafed was irritable with his young wife
who loved him he went almost distracted when the baby which was delicate
cried or gave trouble He grumbled for hours to his mother She only said
»Well my lad you did it yourself now you must make the best of it« And then
the grit came out in him He buckled to work undertook his responsibilities
acknowledged that he belonged to his wife and child and did make a good best of
it He had never been very closely inbound into the family Now he was gone
altogether
The months went slowly along Paul had more or less got into connection with
the Socialist Suffragette Unitarian people in Nottingham owing to his
acquaintance with Clara One day a friend of his and of Claras in Bestwood
asked him to take a message to Mrs Dawes He went in the evening across
Sneinton Market to Bluebell Hill He found the house in a mean little street
paved with granite cobbles and having causeways of dark blue grooved bricks
The front door went up a step from off this rough pavement where the feet of
the passersby rasped and clattered The brown paint on the door was so old that
the naked wood showed between the rents He stood on the street below and
knocked There came a heavy footstep a large stout woman of about sixty
towered above him He looked up at her from the pavement She had a rather
severe face
She admitted him into the parlour which opened on to the street It was a
small stuffy defunct room of mahogany and deathly enlargements of
photographs of departed people done in carbon Mrs Radford left him She was
stately almost martial In a moment Clara appeared She flushed deeply and he
was covered with confusion It seemed as if she did not like being discovered in
her home circumstances
»I thought it couldnt be your voice« she said
But she might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb She invited him out
of the mausoleum of a parlour into the kitchen
That was a little darkish room too but it was smothered in white lace The
mother had seated herself again by the cupboard and was drawing thread from a
vast web of lace A clump of fluff and ravelled cotton was at her right hand a
heap of threequarterinch lace lay on her left whilst in front of her was the
mountain of lace web piling the hearthrug Threads of curly cotton pulled out
from between the lengths of lace strewed over the fender and the fireplace
Paul dared not go forward for fear of treading on piles of white stuff
On the table was a jenny for carding the lace There was a pack of brown
cardboard squares a pack of cards of lace a little box of pins and on the
sofa lay a heap of drawn lace
The room was all lace and it was so dark and warm that the white snowy
stuff seemed the more distinct
»If youre coming in you wont have to mind the work« said Mrs Radford »I
know were about blocked up But sit you down«
Clara much embarrassed gave him a chair against the wall opposite the
white heaps Then she herself took her place on the sofa shamedly
»Will you drink a bottle of stout« Mrs Radford asked »Clara get him a
bottle of stout«
He protested but Mrs Radford insisted
»You look as if you could do with it« she said »Havent you never any more
colour than that«
»Its only a thick skin Ive got that doesnt show the blood through« he
answered
Clara ashamed and chagrined brought him a bottle of stout and a glass He
poured out some of the black stuff
»Well« he said lifting the glass »heres health«
»And thank you« said Mrs Radford
He took a drink of stout
»And light yourself a cigarette so long as you dont set the house on
fire« said Mrs Radford
»Thank you« he replied
»Nay you neednt thank me« she answered »I sll be glad to smell a bit of
smoke in th ouse again A house o women is as dead as a house wi no fire to
my thinkin Im not a spider as likes a corner to myself I like a man about
if hes only something to snap at«
Clara began to work Her jenny spun with a subdued buzz the white lace
hopped from between her fingers on to the card It was filled she snipped off
the length and pinned the end down to the banded lace Then she put a new card
in her jenny Paul watched her She sat square and magnificent Her throat and
arms were bare The blood still mantled below her ears she bent her head in
shame of her humility Her face was set on her work Her arms were creamy and
full of life beside the white lace her large wellkept hands worked with a
balanced movement as if nothing would hurry them He not knowing watched her
all the time He saw the arch of her neck from the shoulder as she bent her
head he saw the coil of dun hair he watched her moving gleaming arms
»Ive heard a bit about you from Clara« continued the mother »Youre in
Jordans arent you« She drew her lace unceasing
»Yes«
»Ay well and I can remember when Thomas Jordan used to ask me for one of
my toffies«
»Did he« laughed Paul »And did he get it«
»Sometimes he did sometimes he didnt which was latterly For hes the
sort that takes all and gives naught he is or used to be«
»I think hes very decent« said Paul
»Yes well Im glad to hear it«
Mrs Radford looked across at him steadily There was something determined
about her that he liked Her face was falling loose but her eyes were calm and
there was something strong in her that made it seem she was not old merely her
wrinkles and loose cheeks were an anachronism She had the strength and
sangfroid of a woman in the prime of life She continued drawing the lace with
slow dignified movements The big web came up inevitably over her apron the
length of lace fell away at her side Her arms were finely shapen but glossy
and yellow as old ivory They had not the peculiar dull gleam that made Claras
so fascinating to him
»And youve been going with Miriam Leivers« the mother asked him
»Well « he answered
»Yes shes a nice girl« she continued »Shes very nice but shes a bit
too much above this world to suit my fancy«
»She is a bit like that« he agreed
»Shell never be satisfied till shes got wings and can fly over everybodys
head she wont« she said
Clara broke in and he told her his message She spoke humbly to him He had
surprised her in her drudgery To have her humble made him feel as if he were
lifting his head in expectation
»Do you like jennying« he asked
»What can a woman do« she replied bitterly
»Is it sweated«
»More or less Isnt all womans work Thats another trick the men have
played since we force ourselves into the labour market«
»Now then you shut up about the men« said her mother »If the women wasnt
fools the men wouldnt be bad uns thats what I say No man was ever that bad
wi me but what he got it back again Not but what theyre a lousy lot theres
no denying it«
»But theyre all right really arent they« he asked
»Well theyre a bit different from women« she answered
»Would you care to be back at Jordans« he asked Clara
»I dont think so« she replied
»Yes she would« cried her mother »thank her stars if she could get back
Dont you listen to her Shes for ever on that igh horse of hers an its
backs that thin an starved itll cut her i two one of these days«
Clara suffered badly from her mother Paul felt as if his eyes were coming
very wide open Wasnt he to take Claras fulminations so seriously after all
She spun steadily at her work He experienced a thrill of joy thinking she
might need his help She seemed denied and deprived of so much And her arm
moved mechanically that should never have been subdued to a mechanism and her
head was bowed to the lace that never should have been bowed She seemed to be
stranded there among the refuse that life has thrown away doing her jennying
It was a bitter thing to her to be put aside by life as if it had no use for
her No wonder she protested
She came with him to the door He stood below in the mean street looking up
at her So fine she was in her stature and her bearing she reminded him of Juno
dethroned As she stood in the doorway she winced from the street from her
surroundings
»And you will go with Mrs Hodgkisson to Hucknall«
He was talking quite meaninglessly only watching her Her grey eyes at last
met his They looked dumb with humiliation pleading with a kind of captive
misery He was shaken and at a loss He had thought her high and mighty
When he left her he wanted to run He went to the station in a sort of
dream and was at home without realising he had moved out of her street
He had an idea that Susan the overseer of the Spiral girls was about to be
married He asked her the next day
»I say Susan I heard a whisper of your getting married What about it«
Susan flushed red
»Whos been talking to you« she replied
»Nobody I merely heard a whisper that you were thinking «
»Well I am though you neednt tell anybody Whats more I wish I wasnt«
»Nay Susan you wont make me believe that«
»Shant I You can believe it though Id rather stop here a thousand
times«
Paul was perturbed
»Why Susan«
The girls colour was high and her eyes flashed
»Thats why«
»And must you«
For answer she looked at him There was about him a candour and gentleness
which made the women trust him He understood
»Ah Im sorry« he said
Tears came to her eyes
»But youll see itll turn out all right Youll make the best of it« he
continued rather wistfully
»Theres nothing else for it«
»Yea theres making the worst of it Try and make it all right«
He soon made occasion to call again on Clara
»Would you« he said »care to come back to Jordans«
She put down her work laid her beautiful arms on the table and looked at
him for some moments without answering Gradually the flush mounted her cheek
»Why« she asked
Paul felt rather awkward
»Well because Susan is thinking of leaving« he said
Clara went on with her jennying The white lace leaped in little jumps and
bounds on to the card He waited for her Without raising her head she said at
last in a peculiar low voice
»Have you said anything about it«
»Except to you not a word«
There was again a long silence
»I will apply when the advertisement is out« she said
»You will apply before that I will let you know exactly when«
She went on spinning her little machine and did not contradict him
Clara came to Jordans Some of the older hands Fanny among them
remembered her earlier rule and cordially disliked the memory Clara had always
been ikey reserved and superior She had never mixed with the girls as one of
themselves If she had occasion to find fault she did it coolly and with
perfect politeness which the defaulter felt to be a bigger insult than
crossness Towards Fanny the poor overstrung hunchback Clara was unfailingly
compassionate and gentle as a result of which Fanny shed more bitter tears than
ever the rough tongues of the other overseers had caused her
There was something in Clara that Paul disliked and much that piqued him
If she were about he always watched her strong throat or her neck upon which
the blonde hair grew low and fluffy There was a fine down almost invisible
upon the skin of her face and arms and when once he had perceived it he saw it
always
When he was at his work painting in the afternoon she would come and stand
near to him perfectly motionless Then he felt her though she neither spoke
nor touched him Although she stood a yard away he felt as if he were in contact
with her Then he could paint no more He flung down the brushes and turned to
talk to her
Sometimes she praised his work sometimes she was critical and cold
»You are affected in that piece« she would say and as there was an element
of truth in her condemnation his blood boiled with anger
Again »What of this« he would ask enthusiastically
»Hm« She made a small doubtful sound »It doesnt interest me much«
»Because you dont understand it« he retorted
»Then why ask me about it«
»Because I thought you would understand«
She would shrug her shoulders in scorn of his work She maddened him He was
furious Then he abused her and went into passionate exposition of his stuff
This amused and stimulated her But she never owned that she had been wrong
During the ten years that she had belonged to the womens movement she had
acquired a fair amount of education and having had some of Miriams passion to
be instructed had taught herself French and could read in that language with a
struggle She considered herself as a woman apart and particularly apart from
her class The girls in the Spiral department were all of good homes It was a
small special industry and had a certain distinction There was an air of
refinement in both rooms But Clara was aloof also from her fellowworkers
None of these things however did she reveal to Paul She was not the one
to give herself away There was a sense of mystery about her She was so
reserved he felt she had much to reserve Her history was open on the surface
but its inner meaning was hidden from everybody It was exciting And then
sometimes he caught her looking at him from under her brows with an almost
furtive sullen scrutiny which made him move quickly Often she met his eyes
But then her own were as it were covered over revealing nothing She gave him
a little lenient smile She was to him extraordinarily provocative because of
the knowledge she seemed to possess and gathered fruit of experience he could
not attain
One day he picked up a copy of Lettres de mon Moulin from her workbench
»You read French do you« he cried
Clara glanced round negligently She was making an elastic stocking of
heliotrope silk turning the Spiral machine with slow balanced regularity
occasionally bending down to see her work or to adjust the needles then her
magnificent neck with its down and fine pencils of hair shone white against
the lavender lustrous silk She turned a few more rounds and stopped
»What did you say« she asked smiling sweetly
Pauls eyes glittered at her insolent indifference to him
»I did not know you read French« he said very polite
»Did you not« she replied with a faint sarcastic smile
»Rotten swank« he said but scarcely loud enough to be heard
He shut his mouth angrily as he watched her She seemed to scorn the work
she mechanically produced yet the hose she made were as nearly perfect as
possible
»You dont like Spiral work« he said
»Oh well all work is work« she answered as if she knew all about it
He marvelled at her coldness He had to do everything hotly She must be
something special
»What would you prefer to do« he asked
She laughed at him indulgently as she said
»There is so little likelihood of my ever being given a choice that I
havent wasted time considering«
»Pah« he said contemptuous on his side now »You only say that because
youre too proud to own up what you want and cant get«
»You know me very well« she replied coldly
»I know you think youre terrific great shakes and that you live under the
eternal insult of working in a factory«
He was very angry and very rude She merely turned away from him in disdain
He walked whistling down the room flirted and laughed with Hilda
Later on he said to himself
»What was I so impudent to Clara for« He was rather annoyed with himself
at the same time glad »Serve her right she stinks with silent pride« he said
to himself angrily
In the afternoon he came down There was a certain weight on his heart which
he wanted to remove He thought to do it by offering her chocolates
»Have one« he said »I bought a handful to sweeten me up«
To his great relief she accepted He sat on the workbench beside her
machine twisting a piece of silk round his finger She loved him for his quick
unexpected movements like a young animal His feet swung as he pondered The
sweets lay strewn on the bench She bent over her machine grinding
rhythmically then stooping to see the stocking that hung beneath pulled down
by the weight He watched the handsome crouching of her back and the
apronstrings curling on the floor
»There is always about you« he said »a sort of waiting Whatever I see you
doing youre not really there you are waiting like Penelope when she did her
weaving« He could not help a spurt of wickedness »Ill call you Penelope« he
said
»Would it make any difference« she said carefully removing one of her
needles
»That doesnt matter so long as it pleases me Here I say you seem to
forget Im your boss It just occurs to me«
»And what does that mean« she asked coolly
»It means Ive got a right to boss you«
»Is there anything you want to complain about«
»Oh I say you neednt be nasty« he said angrily
»I dont know what you want« she said continuing her task
»I want you to treat me nicely and respectfully«
»Call you sir perhaps« she asked quietly
»Yes call me sir I should love it«
»Then I wish you would go upstairs sir«
His mouth closed and a frown came on his face He jumped suddenly down
»Youre too blessed superior for anything« he said
And he went away to the other girls He felt he was being angrier than he
had any need to be In fact he doubted slightly that he was showing off But if
he were then he would Clara heard him laughing in a way she hated with the
girls down the next room
When at evening he went through the department after the girls had gone he
saw his chocolates lying untouched in front of Claras machine He left them In
the morning they were still there and Clara was at work Later on Minnie a
little brunette they called Pussy called to him
»Hey havent you got a chocolate for anybody«
»Sorry Pussy« he replied »I meant to have offered them then I went and
forgot em«
»I think you did« she answered
»Ill bring you some this afternoon You dont want them after theyve been
lying about do you«
»Oh Im not particular« smiled Pussy
»Oh no« he said »Theyll be dusty«
He went up to Claras bench
»Sorry I left these things littering about« he said
She flushed scarlet He gathered them together in his fist
»Theyll be dirty now« he said »You should have taken them I wonder why
you didnt I meant to have told you I wanted you to«
He flung them out of the window into the yard below He just glanced at her
She winced from his eyes
In the afternoon he brought another packet
»Will you take some« he said offering them first to Clara »These are
fresh«
She accepted one and put it on to the bench
»Oh take several for luck« he said
She took a couple more and put them on the bench also Then she turned in
confusion to her work He went on up the room
»Here you are Pussy« he said »Dont be greedy«
»Are they all for her« cried the others rushing up
»Of course theyre not« he said
The girls clamoured round Pussy drew back from her mates
»Come out« she cried »I can have first pick cant I Paul«
»Be nice with em« he said and went away
»You are a dear« the girls cried
»Tenpence« he answered
He went past Clara without speaking She felt the three chocolate creams
would burn her if she touched them It needed all her courage to slip them into
the pocket of her apron
The girls loved him and were afraid of him He was so nice while he was
nice but if he were offended so distant treating them as if they scarcely
existed or not more than the bobbins of thread And then if they were
impudent he said quietly »Do you mind going on with your work« and stood and
watched
When he celebrated his twentythird birthday the house was in trouble
Arthur was just going to be married His mother was not well His father
getting an old man and lame from his accidents was given a paltry poor job
Miriam was an eternal reproach He felt he owed himself to her yet could not
give himself The house moreover needed his support He was pulled in all
directions He was not glad it was his birthday It made him bitter
He got to work at eight oclock Most of the clerks had not turned up The
girls were not due till 830 As he was changing his coat he heard a voice
behind him say
»Paul Paul I want you«
It was Fanny the hunchback standing at the top of her stairs her face
radiant with a secret Paul looked at her in astonishment
»I want you« she said
He stood at a loss
»Come on« she coaxed »Come before you begin on the letters«
He went down the halfdozen steps into her dry narrow finishingoff room
Fanny walked before him her black bodice was short the waist was under her
armpits and her greenblack cashmere skirt seemed very long as she strode
with big strides before the young man himself so graceful She went to her seat
at the narrow end of the room where the window opened on to chimneypots Paul
watched her thin hands and her flat red wrists as she excitedly twitched her
white apron which was spread on the bench in front of her She hesitated
»You didnt think wed forgot you« she asked reproachful
»Why« he asked He had forgotten his birthday himself
»Why he says Why Why look here« She pointed to the calendar and he
saw surrounding the big black number 21 hundreds of little crosses in
blacklead
»Oh kisses for my birthday« he laughed »How did you know«
»Yes you want to know dont you« Fanny mocked hugely delighted »Theres
one from everybody except Lady Clara and two from some But I shant tell
you how many I put«
»Oh I know youre spooney« he said
»There you are mistaken« she cried indignant »I could never be so soft«
Her voice was strong and contralto
»You always pretend to be such a hardhearted hussy« he laughed »And you
know youre as sentimental «
»Id rather be called sentimental than frozen meat« Fanny blurted Paul
knew she referred to Clara and he smiled
»Do you say such nasty things about me« he laughed
»No my duck« the hunchback woman answered lavishly tender She was
thirtynine »No my duck because you dont think yourself a fine figure in
marble and us nothing but dirt Im as good as you arent I Paul« and the
question delighted her
»Why were not better than one another, are we« he replied
»But Im as good as you arent I Paul« she persisted daringly
»Of course you are If it comes to goodness youre better«
She was rather afraid of the situation She might get hysterical
»I thought Id get here before the others wont they say Im deep Now
shut your eyes « she said
»And open your mouth and see what God sends you« he continued suiting
action to words and expecting a piece of chocolate He heard the rustle of the
apron and a faint clink of metal »Im going to look« he said
He opened his eyes Fanny her long cheeks flushed her blue eyes shining
was gazing at him There was a little bundle of painttubes on the bench before
him He turned pale
»No Fanny« he said quickly
»From us all« she answered hastily
»No but «
»Are they the right sort« she asked rocking herself with delight
»Jove theyre the best in the catalogue«
»But theyre the right sorts« she cried
»Theyre off the little list Id made to get when my ship came in« He bit
his lip
Fanny was overcome with emotion She must turn the conversation
»They was all on thorns to do it they all paid their shares all except the
Queen of Sheba«
The Queen of Sheba was Clara
»And wouldnt she join« Paul asked
»She didnt get the chance we never told her we wasnt going to have her
bossing this show We didnt want her to join«
Paul laughed at the woman He was much moved At last he must go She was
very close to him Suddenly she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him
vehemently
»I can give you a kiss today« she said apologetically »Youve looked so
white its made my heart ache«
Paul kissed her and left her Her arms were so pitifully thin that his
heart ached also
That day he met Clara as he ran downstairs to wash his hands at dinnertime
»You have stayed to dinner« he exclaimed It was unusual for her
»Yes and I seem to have dined on old surgicalappliance stock I must go
out now or I shall feel stale indiarubber right through«
She lingered He instantly caught at her wish
»You are going anywhere« he asked
They went together up to the Castle Outdoors she dressed very plainly down
to ugliness indoors she always looked nice She walked with hesitating steps
alongside Paul bowing and turning away from him Dowdy in dress and drooping
she showed to great disadvantage He could scarcely recognise her strong form
that seemed to slumber with power She appeared almost insignificant drowning
her stature in her stoop as she shrank from the public gaze
The Castle grounds were very green and fresh Climbing the precipitous
ascent he laughed and chattered but she was silent seeming to brood over
something There was scarcely time to go inside the squat square building that
crowns the bluff of rock They leaned upon the wall where the cliff runs sheer
down to the Park Below them in their holes in the sandstone pigeons preened
themselves and cooed softly Away down upon the boulevard at the foot of the
rock tiny trees stood in their own pools of shadow and tiny people went
scurrying about in almost ludicrous importance
»You feel as if you could scoop up the folk like tadpoles and have a
handful of them« he said
She laughed answering
»Yes it is not necessary to get far off in order to see us proportionately
The trees are much more significant«
»Bulk only« he said
She laughed cynically
Away beyond the boulevard the thin stripes of the metals showed upon the
railwaytrack whose margin was crowded with little stacks of timber beside
which smoking toy engines fussed Then the silver string of the canal lay at
random among the black heaps Beyond the dwellings very dense on the river
flat looked like black poisonous herbage in thick rows and crowded beds
stretching right away broken now and then by taller plants right to where the
river glistened in a hieroglyph across the country The steep scarp cliffs
across the river looked puny Great stretches of country darkened with trees and
faintly brightened with cornland spread towards the haze where the hills rose
blue beyond grey
»It is comforting« said Mrs Dawes »to think the town goes no farther It
is only a little sore upon the country yet«
»A little scab« Paul said
She shivered She loathed the town Looking drearily across at the country
which was forbidden her her impassive face pale and hostile she reminded Paul
of one of the bitter remorseful angels
»But the towns all right« he said »its only temporary This is the
crude clumsy makeshift weve practised on till we find out what the idea is.
The town will come all right«
The pigeons in the pockets of rock among the perched bushes cooed
comfortably To the left the large church of St Mary rose into space to keep
close company with the Castle above the heaped rubble of the town Mrs Dawes
smiled brightly as she looked across the country
»I feel better« she said
»Thank you« he replied »Great compliment«
»Oh my brother« she laughed
»Hm thats snatching back with the left hand what you gave with the right
and no mistake« he said
She laughed in amusement at him
»But what was the matter with you« he asked »I know you were brooding
something special I can see the stamp of it on your face yet«
»I think I will not tell you« she said
»All right hug it« he answered
She flushed and bit her lip
»No« she said »it was the girls«
»What about em« Paul asked
»They have been plotting something for a week now and today they seem
particularly full of it All alike they insult me with their secrecy«
»Do they« he asked in concern
»I should not mind« she went on in the metallic angry tone »if they did
not thrust it into my face the fact that they have a secret«
»Just like women« said he
»It is hateful their mean gloating« she said intensely
Paul was silent He knew what the girls gloated over He was sorry to be the
cause of this new dissension
»They can have all the secrets in the world« she went on brooding
bitterly »but they might refrain from glorying in them and making me feel more
out of it than ever It is it is almost unbearable«
Paul thought for a few minutes He was much perturbed
»I will tell you what its all about« he said pale and nervous »Its my
birthday and theyve bought me a fine lot of paints all the girls Theyre
jealous of you« he felt her stiffen coldly at the word jealous »merely
because I sometimes bring you a book« he added slowly »But you see its only
a trifle Dont bother about it will you because« he laughed quickly
»well what would they say if they saw us here now in spite of their victory«
She was angry with him for his clumsy reference to their present intimacy
It was almost insolent of him Yet he was so quiet she forgave him although it
cost her an effort
Their two hands lay on the rough stone parapet of the Castle wall He had
inherited from his mother a fineness of mould so that his hands were small and
vigorous Hers were large to match her large limbs but white and powerful
looking As Paul looked at them he knew her »She is wanting somebody to take
her hands for all she is so contemptuous of us« he said to himself And she
saw nothing but his two hands so warm and alive which seemed to live for her
He was brooding now staring out over the country from under sullen brows The
little interesting diversity of shapes had vanished from the scene all that
remained was a vast dark matrix of sorrow and tragedy the same in all the
houses and the riverflats and the people and the birds they were only shapen
differently And now that the forms seemed to have melted away there remained
the mass from which all the landscape was composed a dark mass of struggle and
pain The factory the girls his mother the large uplifted church the
thicket of the town merged into one atmosphere dark brooding and sorrowful
every bit
»Is that two oclock striking« Mrs Dawes said in surprise
Paul started and everything sprang into form regained its individuality
its forgetfulness and its cheerfulness
They hurried back to work
When he was in the rush of preparing for the nights post examining the
work up from Fannys room which smelt of ironing the evening postman came in
»Mr Paul Morel« he said smiling handing Paul a package »A ladys
handwriting Dont let the girls see it«
The postman himself a favourite was pleased to make fun of the girls
affection for Paul
It was a volume of verse with a brief note »You will allow me to send you
this and so spare me my isolation I also sympathise and wish you well CD«
Paul flushed hot
»Good Lord Mrs Dawes She cant afford it Good Lord who everd have
thought it«
He was suddenly intensely moved He was filled with the warmth of her In
the glow he could almost feel her as if she were present her arms her
shoulders her bosom see them feel them almost contain them
This move on the part of Clara brought them into closer intimacy The other
girls noticed that when Paul met Mrs Dawes his eyes lifted and gave that
peculiar bright greeting which they could interpret Knowing he was unaware
Clara made no sign save that occasionally she turned aside her face from him
when he came upon her
They walked out together very often at dinnertime it was quite open quite
frank Everybody seemed to feel that he was quite unaware of the state of his
own feeling and that nothing was wrong He talked to her now with some of the
old fervour with which he had talked to Miriam but he cared less about the
talk he did not bother about his conclusions
One day in October they went out to Lambley for tea Suddenly they came to a
halt on top of the hill He climbed and sat on a gate she sat on the stile The
afternoon was perfectly still with a dim haze and yellow sheaves glowing
through They were quiet
»How old were you when you married« he asked quietly
»Twentytwo«
Her voice was subdued almost submissive She would tell him now
»It is eight years ago«
»Yes«
»And when did you leave him«
»Three years ago«
»Five years Did you love him when you married him«
She was silent for some time then she said slowly
»I thought I did more or less I didnt think much about it And he wanted
me I was very prudish then«
»And you sort of walked into it without thinking«
»Yes I seemed to have been asleep nearly all my life«
»Somnambule But when did you wake up«
»I dont know that I ever did or ever have since I was a child«
»You went to sleep as you grew to be a woman How queer And he didnt wake
you«
»No he never got there« she replied in a monotone
The brown birds dashed over the hedges where the rosehips stood naked and
scarlet
»Got where« he asked
»At me He never really mattered to me«
The afternoon was so gently warm and dim Red roofs of the cottages burned
among the blue haze He loved the day He could feel but he could not
understand what Clara was saying
»But why did you leave him Was he horrid to you«
She shuddered lightly
»He he sort of degraded me He wanted to bully me because he hadnt got
me And then I felt as if I wanted to run as if I was fastened and bound up
And he seemed dirty«
»I see«
He did not at all see
»And was he always dirty« he asked
»A bit« she replied slowly »And then he seemed as if he couldnt get at
me really And then he got brutal he was brutal«
»And why did you leave him finally«
»Because because he was unfaithful to me «
They were both silent for some time Her hand lay on the gatepost as she
balanced He put his own over it His heart beat quickly
»But did you were you ever did you ever give him a chance«
»Chance How«
»To come near to you«
»I married him and I was willing «
They both strove to keep their voices steady
»I believe he loves you« he said
»It looks like it« she replied
He wanted to take his hand away and could not She saved him by removing
her own After a silence he began again
»Did you leave him out of count all along«
»He left me« she said
»And I suppose he couldnt make himself mean everything to you«
»He tried to bully me into it«
But the conversation had got them both out of their depth Suddenly Paul
jumped down
»Come on« he said »Lets go and get some tea«
They found a cottage where they sat in the cold parlour She poured out his
tea She was very quiet He felt she had withdrawn again from him After tea
she stared broodingly into her teacup twisting her wedding ring all the time
In her abstraction she took the ring off her finger stood it up and spun it
upon the table The gold became a diaphanous glittering globe It fell and the
ring was quivering upon the table She spun it again and again Paul watched
fascinated
But she was a married woman and he believed in simple friendship And he
considered that he was perfectly honourable with regard to her It was only a
friendship between man and woman such as any civilised persons might have
He was like so many young men of his own age Sex had become so complicated
in him that he would have denied that he ever could want Clara or Miriam or any
woman whom he knew Sex desire was a sort of detached thing that did not belong
to a woman He loved Miriam with his soul He grew warm at the thought of Clara
he battled with her he knew the curves of her breast and shoulders as if they
had been moulded inside him and yet he did not positively desire her He would
have denied it for ever He believed himself really bound to Miriam If ever he
should marry some time in the far future it would be his duty to marry Miriam
That he gave Clara to understand and she said nothing but left him to his
courses He came to her Mrs Dawes whenever he could Then he wrote frequently
to Miriam and visited the girl occasionally So he went on through the winter
but he seemed not so fretted His mother was easier about him She thought he
was getting away from Miriam
Miriam knew now how strong was the attraction of Clara for him but still
she was certain that the best in him would triumph His feeling for Mrs Dawes
who moreover was a married woman was shallow and temporal compared with his
love for herself He would come back to her she was sure with some of his
young freshness gone perhaps but cured of his desire for the lesser things
which other women than herself could give him She could bear all if he were
inwardly true to her and must come back
He saw none of the anomaly of his position Miriam was his old friend
lover and she belonged to Bestwood and home and his youth Clara was a newer
friend and she belonged to Nottingham to life to the world It seemed to him
quite plain
Mrs Dawes and he had many periods of coolness when they saw little of each
other but they always came together again
»Were you horrid with Baxter Dawes« he asked her It was a thing that
seemed to trouble him
»In what way«
»Oh I dont know But werent you horrid with him Didnt you do something
that knocked him to pieces«
»What pray«
»Making him feel as if he were nothing I know« Paul declared
»You are so clever my friend« she said coolly
The conversation broke off there But it made her cool with him for some
time
She very rarely saw Miriam now The friendship between the two women was not
broken off but considerably weakened
»Will you come in to the concert on Sunday afternoon« Clara asked him just
after Christmas
»I promised to go up to Willey Farm« he replied
»Oh very well«
»You dont mind do you« he asked
»Why should I« she answered
Which almost annoyed him
»You know« he said »Miriam and I have been a lot to each other ever since
I was sixteen thats seven years now«
»Its a long time« Clara replied
»Yes but somehow she it doesnt go right «
»How« asked Clara
»She seems to draw me and draw me and she wouldnt leave a single hair of
me free to fall out and blow away shed keep it«
»But you like to be kept«
»No« he said »I dont I wish it could be normal give and take like me
and you I want a woman to keep me but not in her pocket«
»But if you love her it couldnt be normal like me and you«
»Yes I should love her better then She sort of wants me so much that I
cant give myself«
»Wants you how«
»Wants the soul out of my body I cant help shrinking back from her«
»And yet you love her«
»No I dont love her I never even kiss her«
»Why not« Clara asked
»I dont know«
»I suppose youre afraid« she said
»Im not Something in me shrinks from her like hell she so good when Im
not good«
»How do you know what she is«
»I do I know she wants a sort of soul union«
»But how do you know what she wants«
»Ive been with her for seven years«
»And you havent found out the very first thing about her«
»Whats that«
»That she doesnt want any of your soul communion Thats your own
imagination She wants you«
He pondered over this Perhaps he was wrong
»But she seems « he began
»Youve never tried« she answered
Chapter XI
The Test on Miriam
With the spring came again the old madness and battle Now he knew he would have
to go to Miriam But what was his reluctance He told himself it was only a sort
of overstrong virginity in her and him which neither could break through He
might have married her but his circumstances at home made it difficult and
moreover he did not want to marry Marriage was for life and because they had
become close companions he and she he did not see that it should inevitably
follow they should be man and wife He did not feel that he wanted marriage with
Miriam He wished he did He would have given his head to have felt a joyous
desire to marry her and to have her Then why couldnt he bring it off There
was some obstacle and what was the obstacle It lay in the physical bondage He
shrank from the physical contact But why With her he felt bound up inside
himself He could not go out to her Something struggled in him but he could
not get to her Why She loved him Clara said she even wanted him then why
couldnt he go to her make love to her kiss her Why when she put her arm in
his timidly as they walked did he feel he would burst forth in brutality and
recoil He owed himself to her he wanted to belong to her Perhaps the recoil
and the shrinking from her was love in its first fierce modesty He had no
aversion for her No it was the opposite it was a strong desire battling with
a still stronger shyness and virginity It seemed as if virginity were a
positive force which fought and won in both of them And with her he felt it so
hard to overcome yet he was nearest to her and with her alone could he
deliberately break through And he owed himself to her Then if they could get
things right they could marry but he would not marry unless he could feel
strong in the joy of it never He could not have faced his mother It seemed
to him that to sacrifice himself in a marriage he did not want would be
degrading and would undo all his life make it a nullity He would try what he
could do
And he had a great tenderness for Miriam Always she was sad dreaming her
religion and he was nearly a religion to her He could not bear to fail her It
would all come right if they tried
He looked round A good many of the nicest men he knew were like himself
bound in by their own virginity which they could not break out of They were so
sensitive to their women that they would go without them for ever rather than do
them a hurt an injustice Being the sons of mothers whose husbands had
blundered rather brutally through their feminine sanctities they were
themselves too diffident and shy They could easier deny themselves than incur
any reproach from a woman for a woman was like their mother and they were full
of the sense of their mother They preferred themselves to suffer the misery of
celibacy rather than risk the other person
He went back to her Something in her when he looked at her brought the
tears almost to his eyes One day he stood behind her as she sang Annie was
playing a song on the piano As Miriam sang her mouth seemed hopeless She sang
like a nun singing to heaven It reminded him so much of the mouth and eyes of
one who sings beside a Botticelli Madonna so spiritual Again hot as steel
came up the pain in him Why must he ask her for the other thing Why was there
his blood battling with her If only he could have been always gentle tender
with her breathing with her the atmosphere of reverie and religious dreams he
would give his right hand It was not fair to hurt her There seemed an eternal
maidenhood about her and when he thought of her mother he saw the great brown
eyes of a maiden who was nearly scared and shocked out of her virgin maidenhood
but not quite in spite of her seven children They had been born almost leaving
her out of count not of her but upon her So she could never let them go
because she never had possessed them
Mrs Morel saw him going again frequently to Miriam and was astonished He
said nothing to his mother He did not explain nor excuse himself If he came
home late and she reproached him he frowned and turned on her in an
overbearing way
»I shall come home when I like« he said »I am old enough«
»Must she keep you till this time«
»It is I who stay« he answered
»And she lets you But very well« she said
And she went to bed leaving the door unlocked for him but she lay
listening until he came often long after It was a great bitterness to her that
he had gone back to Miriam She recognised however the uselessness of any
further interference He went to Willey Farm as a man now not as a youth She
had no right over him There was a coldness between him and her He hardly told
her anything Discarded she waited on him cooked for him still and loved to
slave for him but her face closed again like a mask There was nothing for her
to do now but the housework for all the rest he had gone to Miriam She could
not forgive him Miriam killed the joy and the warmth in him He had been such a
jolly lad and full of the warmest affection now he grew colder more and more
irritable and gloomy It reminded her of William but Paul was worse He did
things with more intensity and more realisation of what he was about His
mother knew how he was suffering for want of a woman and she saw him going to
Miriam If he had made up his mind nothing on earth would alter him Mrs Morel
was tired She began to give up at last she had finished She was in the way
He went on determinedly He realised more or less what his mother felt It
only hardened his soul He made himself callous towards her but it was like
being callous to his own health It undermined him quickly yet he persisted
He lay back in the rockingchair at Willey Farm one evening He had been
talking to Miriam for some weeks but had not come to the point Now he said
suddenly
»I am twentyfour almost«
She had been brooding She looked up at him suddenly in surprise
»Yes What makes you say it«
There was something in the charged atmosphere that she dreaded
»Sir Thomas More says one can marry at twentyfour«
She laughed quaintly saying
»Does it need Sir Thomas Mores sanction«
»No but one ought to marry about then«
»Ay« she answered broodingly and she waited
»I cant marry you« he continued slowly »not now because weve no money
and they depend on me at home«
She sat halfguessing what was coming
»But I want to marry now «
»You want to marry« she repeated
»A woman you know what I mean«
She was silent
»Now at last I must« he said
»Ay« she answered
»And you love me«
She laughed bitterly
»Why are you ashamed of it« he answered »You wouldnt be ashamed before
your God why are you before people«
»Nay« she answered deeply »I am not ashamed«
»You are« he replied bitterly »and its my fault But you know I cant
help being as I am dont you«
»I know you cant help it« she replied
»I love you an awful lot then there is something short«
»Where« she answered looking at him
»Oh in me It is I who ought to be ashamed like a spiritual cripple And
I am ashamed It is misery Why is it«
»I dont know« replied Miriam
»And I dont know« he repeated »Dont you think we have been too fierce in
our what they call purity Dont you think that to be so much afraid and averse
is a sort of dirtiness«
She looked at him with startled dark eyes
»You recoiled away from anything of the sort and I took the motion from
you and recoiled also perhaps worse«
There was silence in the room for some time
»Yes« she said »it is so«
»There is between us« he said »all these years of intimacy I feel naked
enough before you Do you understand«
»I think so« she answered
»And you love me«
She laughed
»Dont be bitter« he pleaded
She looked at him and was sorry for him his eyes were dark with torture
She was sorry for him it was worse for him to have this deflated love than for
herself who could never be properly mated He was restless for ever urging
forward and trying to find a way out He might do as he liked and have what he
liked of her
»Nay« she said softly »I am not bitter«
She felt she could bear anything for him she would suffer for him She put
her hand on his knee as he leaned forward in his chair He took it and kissed
it but it hurt to do so He felt he was putting himself aside He sat there
sacrificed to her purity which felt more like nullity How could he kiss her
hand passionately when it would drive her away and leave nothing but pain Yet
slowly he drew her to him and kissed her
They knew each other too well to pretend anything As she kissed him she
watched his eyes they were staring across the room with a peculiar dark blaze
in them that fascinated her He was perfectly still She could feel his heart
throbbing heavily in his breast
»What are you thinking about« she asked
The blaze in his eyes shuddered became uncertain
»I was thinking all the while I love you I have been obstinate«
She sank her head on his breast
»Yes« she answered
»Thats all« he said and his voice seemed sure and his mouth was kissing
her throat
Then she raised her head and looked into his eyes with her full gaze of
love The blaze struggled seemed to try to get away from her and then was
quenched He turned his head quickly aside It was a moment of anguish
»Kiss me« she whispered
He shut his eyes and kissed her and his arms folded her closer and closer
When she walked home with him over the fields he said
»I am glad I came back to you I feel so simple with you as if there was
nothing to hide We will be happy«
»Yes« she murmured and the tears came to her eyes
»Some sort of perversity in our souls« he said »makes us not want get
away from the very thing we want We have to fight against that«
»Yes« she said and she felt stunned
As she stood under the droopingthorn tree in the darkness by the roadside
he kissed her and his fingers wandered over her face In the darkness where he
could not see her but only feel her his passion flooded him He clasped her
very close
»Sometime you will have me« he murmured hiding his face on her shoulder
It was so difficult
»Not now« she said
His hopes and his heart sunk A dreariness came over him
»No« he said
His clasp of her slackened
»I love to feel your arm there« she said pressing his arm against her
back where it went round her waist »It rests me so«
He tightened the pressure of his arm upon the small of her back to rest her
»We belong to each other« he said
»Yes«
»Then why shouldnt we belong to each other altogether«
»But « she faltered
»I know its a lot to ask« he said »but theres not much risk for you
really not in the Gretchen way You can trust me there«
»Oh I can trust you« The answer came quick and strong »Its not that
its not that at all but «
»What«
She hid her face in his neck with a little cry of misery
»I dont know« she cried
She seemed slightly hysterical but with a sort of horror His heart died in
him
»You dont think it ugly« he asked
»No not now You have taught me it isnt«
»You are afraid«
She calmed herself hastily
»Yes I am only afraid« she said
He kissed her tenderly
»Never mind« he said »You should please yourself«
Suddenly she gripped his arms round her and clenched her body stiff
»You shall have me« she said through her shut teeth
His heart beat up again like fire He folded her close and his mouth was on
her throat She could not bear it She drew away He disengaged her
»Wont you be late« she asked gently
He sighed scarcely hearing what she said She waited wishing he would go
At last he kissed her quickly and climbed the fence Looking round he saw the
pale blotch of her face down in the darkness under the hanging tree There was
no more of her but this pale blotch
»Goodbye« she called softly She had no body only a voice and a dim face
He turned away and ran down the road his fists clenched and when he came to
the wall over the lake he leaned there almost stunned looking up the black
water
Miriam plunged home over the meadows She was not afraid of people what
they might say but she dreaded the issue with him Yes she would let him have
her if he insisted and then when she thought of it afterwards her heart went
down He would be disappointed he would find no satisfaction and then he would
go away Yet he was so insistent and over this which did not seem so
allimportant to her was their love to break down After all he was only like
other men seeking his satisfaction Oh but there was something more in him
something deeper She could trust to it in spite of all desires He said that
possession was a great moment in life All strong emotions concentrated there
Perhaps it was so There was something divine in it then she would submit
religiously to the sacrifice He should have her And at the thought her whole
body clenched itself involuntarily hard as if against something but Life
forced her through this gate of suffering too and she would submit At any
rate it would give him what he wanted which was her deepest wish She brooded
and brooded and brooded herself towards accepting him
He courted her now like a lover Often when he grew hot she put his face
from her held it between her hands and looked in his eyes He could not meet
her gaze Her dark eyes full of love earnest and searching made him turn
away Not for an instant would she let him forget Back again he had to torture
himself into a sense of his responsibility and hers Never any relaxing never
any leaving himself to the great hunger and impersonality of passion he must be
brought back to a deliberate reflective creature As if from a swoon of passion
she called him back to the littleness the personal relationship He could not
bear it »Leave me alone leave me alone« he wanted to cry but she wanted him
to look at her with eyes full of love His eyes full of the dark impersonal
fire of desire did not belong to her
There was a great crop of cherries at the farm The trees at the back of the
house very large and tall hung thick with scarlet and crimson drops under the
dark leaves Paul and Edgar were gathering the fruit one evening It had been a
hot day and now the clouds were rolling in the sky dark and warm Paul climbed
high in the tree above the scarlet roofs of the buildings The wind moaning
steadily made the whole tree rock with a subtle thrilling motion that stirred
the blood The young man perched insecurely in the slender branches rocked
till he felt slightly drunk reached down the boughs where the scarlet beady
cherries hung thick underneath and tore off handful after handful of the sleek
coolfleshed fruit Cherries touched his ears and his neck as he stretched
forward their chill fingertips sending a flash down his blood All shades of
red from a golden vermilion to a rich crimson glowed and met his eyes under a
darkness of leaves
The sun going down suddenly caught the broken clouds Immense piles of
gold flared out in the southeast heaped in soft glowing yellow right up the
sky The world till now dusk and grey reflected the gold glow astonished
Everywhere the trees and the grass and the faroff water seemed roused from
the twilight and shining
Miriam came out wondering
»Oh« Paul heard her mellow voice call »isnt it wonderful«
He looked down There was a faint gold glimmer on her face that looked very
soft turned up to him
»How high you are« she said
Beside her on the rhubarb leaves were four dead birds thieves that had
been shot Paul saw some cherry stones hanging quite bleached like skeletons
picked clear of flesh He look down again to Miriam
»Clouds are on fire« he said
»Beautiful« she cried
She seemed so small so soft so tender down there He threw a handful of
cherries at her She was startled and frightened He laughed with a low
chuckling sound and pelted her She ran for shelter picking up some cherries
Two fine red pairs she hung over her ears then she looked up again
»Havent you got enough« she asked
»Nearly It is like being on a ship up here«
»And how long will you stay«
»While the sunset lasts«
She went to the fence and sat there watching the gold clouds fall to
pieces and go in immense rose ruin towards the darkness Gold flamed to
scarlet like pain in its intense brightness Then the scarlet sank to rose and
rose to crimson and quickly the passion went out of the sky All the world was
dark grey Paul scrambled quickly down with his basket tearing his shirtsleeve
as he did so
»They are lovely« said Miriam fingering the cherries
»Ive torn my sleeve« he answered
She took the threecornered rip saying
»I shall have to mend it« It was near the shoulder She put her fingers
through the tear »How warm« she said
He laughed There was a new strange note in his voice one that made her
pant
»Shall we stay out« he said
»Wont it rain« she asked
»No let us walk a little way«
They went down the fields and into the thick plantation of firtrees and
pines
»Shall we go in among the trees« he asked
»Do you want to«
»Yes«
It was very dark among the firs and the sharp spines pricked her face She
was afraid Paul was silent and strange
»I like the darkness« he said »I wish it were thicker good thick
darkness«
He seemed to be almost unaware of her as a person she was only to him then
a woman She was afraid
He stood against a pinetree trunk and took her in his arms She
relinquished herself to him but it was a sacrifice in which she felt something
of horror This thickvoiced oblivious man was a stranger to her
Later it began to rain The pinetrees smelled very strong Paul lay with
his head on the ground on the dead pine needles listening to the sharp hiss of
the rain a steady keen noise His heart was down very heavy Now he realised
that she had not been with him all the time that her soul had stood apart in a
sort of horror He was physically at rest but no more Very dreary at heart
very sad and very tender his fingers wandered over her face pitifully Now
again she loved him deeply He was tender and beautiful
»The rain« he said
»Yes is it coming on you«
She put her hands over him on his hair on his shoulders to feel if the
raindrops fell on him She loved him dearly He as he lay with his face on the
dead pineleaves felt extraordinarily quiet He did not mind if the raindrops
came on him he would have lain and got wet through he felt as if nothing
mattered as if his living were smeared away into the beyond near and quite
lovable This strange gentle reachingout to death was new to him
»We must go« said Miriam
»Yes« he answered but did not move
To him now life seemed a shadow day a white shadow night and death and
stillness and inaction this seemed like being To be alive to be urgent and
insistent that was nottobe The highest of all was to melt out into the
darkness and sway there identified with the great Being
»The rain is coming in on us« said Miriam
He rose and assisted her
»It is a pity« he said
»What«
»To have to go I feel so still«
»Still« she repeated
»Stiller than I have ever been in my life«
He was walking with his hand in hers She pressed his fingers feeling a
slight fear Now he seemed beyond her she had a fear lest she should lose him
»The firtrees are like presences on the darkness each one only a
presence«
She was afraid and said nothing
»A sort of hush the whole night wondering and asleep I suppose thats what
we do in death sleep in wonder«
She had been afraid before of the brute in him now of the mystic She trod
beside him in silence The rain fell with a heavy »Hush« on the trees At last
they gained the cartshed
»Let us stay here awhile« he said
There was a sound of rain everywhere smothering everything
»I feel so strange and still« he said »along with everything«
»Ay« she answered patiently
He seemed again unaware of her though he held her hand close
»To be rid of our individuality which is our will which is our effort to
live effortless a kind of curious sleep that is very beautiful I think that
is our afterlife our immortality«
»Yes«
»Yes and very beautiful to have«
»You dont usually say that«
»No«
In a while they went indoors Everybody looked at them curiously He still
kept the quiet heavy look in his eyes the stillness in his voice
Instinctively they all left him alone
About this time Miriams grandmother who lived in a tiny cottage in
Woodlinton fell ill and the girl was sent to keep house It was a beautiful
little place The cottage had a big garden in front with red brick walls
against which the plum trees were nailed At the back another garden was
separated from the fields by a tall old hedge It was very pretty Miriam had
not much to do so she found time for her beloved reading and for writing
little introspective pieces which interested her
At the holidaytime her grandmother being better was driven to Derby to
stay with her daughter for a day or two She was a crotchety old lady and might
return the second day or the third so Miriam stayed alone in the cottage which
also pleased her
Paul used often to cycle over and they had as a rule peaceful and happy
times He did not embarrass her much but then on the Monday of the holiday he
was to spend a whole day with her
It was perfect weather He left his mother telling her where he was going
She would be alone all the day It cast a shadow over him but he had three days
that were all his own when he was going to do as he liked It was sweet to rush
through the morning lanes on his bicycle
He got to the cottage at about eleven oclock Miriam was busy preparing
dinner She looked so perfectly in keeping with the little kitchen ruddy and
busy He kissed her and sat down to watch The room was small and cosy The sofa
was covered all over with a sort of linen in squares of red and pale blue old
much washed but pretty There was a stuffed owl in a case over a corner
cupboard The sunlight came through the leaves of the scented geraniums in the
window She was cooking a chicken in his honour It was their cottage for the
day and they were man and wife He beat the eggs for her and peeled the
potatoes He thought she gave a feeling of home almost like his mother and no
one could look more beautiful with her tumbled curls when she was flushed from
the fire
The dinner was a great success Like a young husband he carved They talked
all the time with unflagging zest Then he wiped the dishes she had washed and
they went out down the fields There was a bright little brook that ran into a
bog at the foot of a very steep bank Here they wandered picking still a few
marshmarigolds and many big blue forgetmenots Then she sat on the bank with
her hands full of flowers mostly golden waterblobs As she put her face down
into the marigolds it was all overcast with a yellow shine
»Your face is bright« he said »like a transfiguration«
She looked at him questioning He laughed pleadingly to her laying his
hands on hers Then he kissed her fingers then her face
The world was all steeped in sunshine and quite still yet not asleep but
quivering with a kind of expectancy
»I have never seen anything more beautiful than this« he said He held her
hand fast all the time
»And the water singing to itself as it runs do you love it« She looked at
him full of love His eyes were very dark very bright
»Dont you think its a great day« he asked
She murmured her assent She was happy and he saw it
»And our day just between us« he said
They lingered a little while Then they stood up upon the sweet thyme and
he looked down at her simply
»Will you come« he asked
They went back to the house hand in hand in silence The chickens came
scampering down the path to her He locked the door and they had the little
house to themselves
He never forgot seeing her as she lay on the bed when he was unfastening
his collar First he saw only her beauty and was blind with it She had the
most beautiful body he had ever imagined He stood unable to move or speak
looking at her his face halfsmiling with wonder And then he wanted her but
as he went forward to her her hands lifted in a little pleading movement and
he looked at her face and stopped Her big brown eyes were watching him still
and resigned and loving she lay as if she had given herself up to sacrifice
there was her body for him but the look at the back of her eyes like a
creature awaiting immolation arrested him and all his blood fell back
»You are sure you want me« he asked as if a cold shadow had come over him
»Yes quite sure«
She was very quiet very calm She only realised that she was doing
something for him He could hardly bear it She lay to be sacrificed for him
because she loved him so much And he had to sacrifice her For a second he
wished he were sexless or dead Then he shut his eyes again to her and his
blood beat back again
And afterwards he loved her loved her to the last fibre of his being He
loved her But he wanted somehow to cry There was something he could not bear
for her sake He stayed with her till quite late at night As he rode home he
felt that he was finally initiated He was a youth no longer But why had he the
dull pain in his soul Why did the thought of death the afterlife seem so
sweet and consoling
He spent the week with Miriam and wore her out with his passion before it
was gone He had always almost wilfully to put her out of count and act from
the brute strength of his own feelings And he could not do it often and there
remained afterwards always the sense of failure and of death If he were really
with her he had to put aside himself and his desire If he would have her he
had to put her aside
»When I come to you« he asked her his eyes dark with pain and shame »you
dont really want me do you«
»Ah yes« she replied quickly
He looked at her
»Nay« he said
She began to tremble
»You see« she said taking his face and shutting it out against her
shoulder »you see as we are how can I get used to you It would come all
right if we were married«
He lifted her head and looked at her
»You mean now it is always too much shock«
»Yes and «
»You are always clenched against me«
She was trembling with agitation
»You see« she said »Im not used to the thought «
»You are lately« he said
»But all my life Mother said to me There is one thing in marriage that is
always dreadful but you have to bear it And I believed it«
»And still believe it« he said
»No« she cried hastily »I believe as you do that loving even in that
way is the highwater mark of living«
»That doesnt alter the fact that you never want it«
»No« she said taking his head in her arms and rocking in despair »Dont
say so You dont understand« She rocked with pain »Dont I want your
children«
»But not me«
»How can you say so But we must be married to have children «
»Shall we be married then I want you to have my children«
He kissed her hand reverently She pondered sadly watching him
»We are too young« she said at length
»Twentyfour and twentythree «
»Not yet« she pleaded as she rocked herself in distress
»When you will« he said
She bowed her head gravely The tone of hopelessness in which he said these
things grieved her deeply It had always been a failure between them Tacitly
she acquiesced in what he felt
And after a week of love he said to his mother suddenly one Sunday night
just as they were going to bed
»I shant go so much to Miriams mother«
She was surprised but she would not ask him anything
»You please yourself« she said
So he went to bed But there was a new quietness about him which she had
wondered at She almost guessed She would leave him alone however
Precipitation might spoil things She watched him in his loneliness wondering
where he would end He was sick and much too quiet for him There was a
perpetual little knitting of his brows such as she had seen when he was a small
baby and which had been gone for many years Now it was the same again And she
could do nothing for him He had to go on alone make his own way
He continued faithful to Miriam For one day he had loved her utterly But
it never came again The sense of failure grew stronger At first it was only a
sadness Then he began to feel he could not go on He wanted to run to go
abroad anything Gradually he ceased to ask her to have him Instead of drawing
them together it put them apart And then he realised consciously that it was
no good It was useless trying it would never be a success between them
For some months he had seen very little of Clara They had occasionally
walked out for half an hour at dinnertime But he always reserved himself for
Miriam With Clara however his brow cleared and he was gay again She treated
him indulgently as if he were a child He thought he did not mind But deep
below the surface it piqued him
Sometimes Miriam said
»What about Clara I hear nothing of her lately«
»I walked with her about twenty minutes yesterday« he replied
»And what did she talk about«
»I dont know I suppose I did all the jawing I usually do I think I was
telling her about the strike and how the women took it«
»Yes«
So he gave the account of himself
But insidiously without his knowing it the warmth he felt for Clara drew
him away from Miriam for whom he felt responsible and to whom he felt he
belonged He thought he was being quite faithful to her It was not easy to
estimate exactly the strength and warmth of ones feelings for a woman till they
have run away with one
He began to give more time to his men friends There was Jessop at the art
school Swain who was chemistry demonstrator at the university Newton who was
a teacher besides Edgar and Miriams younger brothers Pleading work he
sketched and studied with Jessop He called in the University for Swain and the
two went down town together Having come home in the train with Newton he
called and had a game of billiards with him in the Moon and Stars If he gave to
Miriam the excuse of his men friends he felt quite justified His mother began
to be relieved He always told her where he had been
During the summer Clara wore sometimes a dress of soft cotton stuff with
loose sleeves When she lifted her hands her sleeves fell back and her
beautiful strong arms shone out
»Half a minute« he cried »Hold your arm still«
He made sketches of her hand and arm and the drawings contained some of the
fascination the real thing had for him Miriam who always went scrupulously
through his books and papers saw the drawings
»I think Clara has such beautiful arms« he said
»Yes When did you draw them«
»On Tuesday in the workroom You know Ive got a corner where I can work
Often I can do every single thing they need in the department before dinner
Then I work for myself in the afternoon and just see to things at night«
»Yes« she said turning the leaves of his sketchbook
Frequently he hated Miriam He hated her as she bent forward and pored over
his things He hated her way of patiently casting him up as if he were an
endless psychological account When he was with her he hated her for having got
him and yet not got him and he tortured her She took all and gave nothing he
said At least she gave no living warmth She was never alive and giving off
life Looking for her was like looking for something which did not exist. She
was only his conscience not his mate He hated her violently and was more
cruel to her They dragged on till the next summer He saw more and more of
Clara
At last he spoke He had been sitting working at home one evening There was
between him and his mother a peculiar condition of people frankly finding fault
with each other Mrs Morel was strong on her feet again He was not going to
stick to Miriam Very well then she would stand aloof till he said something
It had been coming a long time this bursting of the storm in him when he would
come back to her This evening there was between them a peculiar condition of
suspense He worked feverishly and mechanically so that he could escape from
himself It grew late Through the open door stealthily came the scent of
madonna lilies almost as if it were prowling abroad Suddenly he got up and
went out of doors
The beauty of the night made him want to shout A halfmoon dusky gold was
sinking behind the black sycamore at the end of the garden making the sky dull
purple with its glow Nearer a dim white fence of lilies went across the
garden and the air all round seemed to stir with scent as if it were alive He
went across the bed of pinks whose keen perfume came sharply across the
rocking heavy scent of the lilies and stood alongside the white barrier of
flowers They flagged all loose as if they were panting The scent made him
drunk He went down to the field to watch the moon sink under
A corncrake in the hayclose called insistently The moon slid quite quickly
downwards growing more flushed Behind him the great flowers leaned as if they
were calling And then like a shock he caught another perfume something raw
and coarse Hunting round he found the purple iris touched their fleshy
throats and their dark grasping hands At any rate he had found something
They stood stiff in the darkness Their scent was brutal The moon was melting
down upon the crest of the hill It was gone all was dark The corncrake called
still
Breaking off a pink he suddenly went indoors
»Come my boy« said his mother »Im sure its time you went to bed«
He stood with the pink against his lips
»I shall break off with Miriam mother« he answered calmly
She looked up at him over her spectacles He was staring back at her
unswerving She met his eyes for a moment then took off her glasses He was
white The male was up in him dominant She did not want to see him too
clearly
»But I thought « she began
»Well« he answered »I dont love her I dont want to marry her so I
shall have done«
»But« exclaimed his mother amazed »I thought lately you had made up your
mind to have her and so I said nothing«
»I had I wanted to but now I dont want Its no good I shall break off
on Sunday I ought to oughtnt I«
»You know best You know I said so long ago«
»I cant help that now I shall break off on Sunday«
»Well« said his mother »I think it will be best But lately I decided you
had made up your mind to have her so I said nothing and should have said
nothing But I say as I have always said I dont think she is suited to you«
»On Sunday I break off« he said smelling the pink He put the flower in
his mouth Unthinking he bared his teeth closed them on the blossom slowly
and had a mouthful of petals These he spat into the fire kissed his mother
and went to bed
On Sunday he went up to the farm in the early afternoon He had written
Miriam that they would walk over the fields to Hucknall His mother was very
tender with him He said nothing But she saw the effort it was costing The
peculiar set look on his face stilled her
»Never mind my son« she said »You will be so much better when it is all
over«
Paul glanced swiftly at his mother in surprise and resentment He did not
want sympathy
Miriam met him at the laneend She was wearing a new dress of figured
muslin that had short sleeves Those short sleeves and Miriams brownskinned
arms beneath them such pitiful resigned arms gave him so much pain that
they helped to make him cruel She had made herself look so beautiful and fresh
for him She seemed to blossom for him alone Every time he looked at her a
mature young woman now and beautiful in her new dress it hurt so much that
his heart seemed almost to be bursting with the restraint he put on it But he
had decided and it was irrevocable
On the hills they sat down and he lay with his head in her lap whilst she
fingered his hair She knew that »he was not there« as she put it Often when
she had him with her she looked for him and could not find him But this
afternoon she was not prepared
It was nearly five oclock when he told her They were sitting on the bank
of a stream where the lip of turf hung over a hollow bank of yellow earth and
he was hacking away with a stick as he did when he was perturbed and cruel
»I have been thinking« he said »we ought to break off«
»Why« she cried in surprise
»Because its no good going on«
»Why is it no good«
»It isnt I dont want to marry I dont want ever to marry And if were
not going to marry its no good going on«
»But why do you say this now«
»Because Ive made up my mind«
»And what about these last months and the things you told me then«
»I cant help it I dont want to go on«
»You dont want any more of me«
»I want us to break off you be free of me I free of you«
»And what about these last months«
»I dont know Ive not told you anything but what I thought was true«
»Then why are you different now«
»Im not Im the same only I know its no good going on«
»You havent told me why its no good«
»Because I dont want to go on and I dont want to marry«
»How many times have you offered to marry me and I wouldnt«
»I know but I want us to break off«
There was silence for a moment or two while he dug viciously at the earth
She bent her head pondering He was an unreasonable child He was like an
infant which when it has drunk its fill throws away and smashes the cup She
looked at him feeling she could get hold of him and wring some consistency out
of him But she was helpless Then she cried
»I have said you were only fourteen you are only four«
He still dug at the earth viciously He heard
»You are a child of four« she repeated in her anger
He did not answer but said in his heart »All right if Im a child of
four what do you want me for I dont want another mother« But he said nothing
to her and there was silence
»And have you told your people« she asked
»I have told my mother«
There was another long interval of silence
»Then what do you want« she asked
»Why I want us to separate We have lived on each other all these years
now let us stop I will go my own way without you and you will go your way
without me You will have an independent life of your own then«
There was in it some truth that in spite of her bitterness she could not
help registering She knew she felt in a sort of bondage to him which she hated
because she could not control it She hated her love for him from the moment it
grew too strong for her And deep down she had hated him because she loved him
and he dominated her She had resisted his domination She had fought to keep
herself free of him in the last issue And she was free of him even more than
he of her
»And« he continued »we shall always be more or less each others work You
have done a lot for me I for you Now let us start and live by ourselves«
»What do you want to do« she asked
»Nothing only to be free« he answered
She however knew in her heart that Claras influence was over him to
liberate him But she said nothing
»And what have I to tell my mother« she asked
»I told my mother« he answered »that I was breaking off clean and
altogether«
»I shall not tell them at home« she said
Frowning »You please yourself« he said
He knew he had landed her in a nasty hole and was leaving her in the lurch
It angered him
»Tell them you wouldnt and wont marry me and have broken off« he said
»Its true enough«
She bit her finger moodily She thought over their whole affair She had
known it would come to this she had seen it all along It chimed with her
bitter expectation
»Always it has always been so« she cried »It has been one long battle
between us you fighting away from me«
It came from her unawares like a flash of lightning The mans heart stood
still Was this how she saw it
»But weve had some perfect hours some perfect times when we were
together« he pleaded
»Never« she cried »never It has always been you fighting me off«
»Not always not at first« he pleaded
»Always from the very beginning always the same«
She had finished but she had done enough He sat aghast He had wanted to
say »It has been good but it is at an end« And she she whose love he had
believed in when he had despised himself denied that their love had ever been
love »He had always fought away from her« Then it had been monstrous There
had never been anything really between them all the time he had been imagining
something where there was nothing And she had known She had known so much and
had told him so little She had known all the time All the time this was at the
bottom of her
He sat silent in bitterness At last the whole affair appeared in a cynical
aspect to him She had really played with him not he with her She had hidden
all her condemnation from him had flattered him and despised him She despised
him now He grew intellectual and cruel
»You ought to marry a man who worships you« he said »then you could do as
you liked with him Plenty of men will worship you if you get on the private
side of their natures You ought to marry one such They would never fight you
off«
»Thank you« she said »But dont advise me to marry someone else any more
Youve done it before«
»Very well« he said »I will say no more«
He sat still feeling as if he had had a blow instead of giving one Their
eight years of friendship and love the eight years of his life were nullified
»When did you think of this« she asked
»I thought definitely on Thursday night«
»I knew it was coming« she said
That pleased him bitterly »Oh very well If she knew then it doesnt come
as a surprise to her« he thought
»And have you said anything to Clara« she asked
»No but I shall tell her now«
There was a silence
»Do you remember the things you said this time last year in my
grandmothers house nay last month even«
»Yes« he said »I do And I meant them I cant help that its failed«
»It has failed because you want something else«
»It would have failed whether or not You never believed in me«
She laughed strangely
He sat in silence He was full of a feeling that she had deceived him She
had despised him when he thought she worshipped him She had let him say wrong
things and had not contradicted him She had let him fight alone But it stuck
in his throat that she had despised him whilst he thought she worshipped him
She should have told him when she found fault with him She had not played fair
He hated her All these years she had treated him as if he were a hero and
thought of him secretly as an infant a foolish child Then why had she left the
foolish child to his folly His heart was hard against her
She sat full of bitterness She had known oh well she had known All the
time he was away from her she had summed him up seen his littleness his
meanness and his folly Even she had guarded her soul against him She was not
overthrown not prostrated not even much hurt She had known Only why as he
sat there had he still this strange dominance over her His very movements
fascinated her as if she were hypnotised by him Yet he was despicable false
inconsistent and mean Why this bondage for her Why was it the movement of his
arm stirred her as nothing else in the world could Why was she fastened to him
Why even now if he looked at her and commanded her would she have to obey
She would obey him in his trifling commands But once he was obeyed then she
had him in her power she knew to lead him where she would She was sure of
herself Only this new influence Ah he was not a man He was a baby that
cries for the newest toy And all the attachment of his soul would not keep him
Very well he would have to go But he would come back when he had tired of his
new sensation
He hacked at the earth till she was fretted to death She rose He sat
flinging lumps of earth in the stream
»We will go and have tea here« he asked
»Yes« she answered
They chattered over irrelevant subjects during tea He held forth on the
love of ornament the cottage parlour moved him thereto and its connection
with æsthetics She was cold and quiet As they walked home she asked
»And we shall not see each other«
»No or rarely« he answered
»Nor write« she asked almost sarcastically
»As you will« he answered »Were not strangers never should be whatever
happened I will write to you now and again You please yourself«
»I see« she answered cuttingly
But he was at that stage at which nothing else hurts He had made a great
cleavage in his life He had had a great shock when she had told him their love
had been always a conflict Nothing more mattered If it never had been much
there was no need to make a fuss that it was ended
He left her at the laneend As she went home solitary in her new frock
having her people to face at the other end he stood still with shame and pain
in the highroad thinking of the suffering he caused her
In the reaction towards restoring his selfesteem he went into the Willow
Tree for a drink There were four girls who had been out for the day drinking a
modest glass of port They had some chocolates on the table Paul sat near with
his whisky He noticed the girls whispering and nudging Presently one a bonny
dark hussy leaned to him and said
»Have a chocolate«
The others laughed loudly at her impudence
»All right« said Paul »Give me a hard one nut I dont like creams«
»Here you are then« said the girl »heres an almond for you«
She held the sweet between her fingers He opened his mouth She popped it
in and blushed
»You are nice« he said
»Well« she answered »we thought you looked overcast and they dared me
offer you a chocolate«
»I dont mind if I have another another sort« he said
And presently they were all laughing together
It was nine oclock when he got home falling dark He entered the house in
silence His mother who had been waiting rose anxiously
»I told her« he said
»Im glad« replied the mother with great relief
He hung up his cap wearily
»I said wed have done altogether« he said
»Thats right my son« said the mother »Its hard for her now but best in
the long run I know You werent suited for her«
He laughed shakily as he sat down
»Ive had such a lark with some girls in a pub« he said
His mother looked at him He had forgotten Miriam now He told her about the
girls in the Willow Tree Mrs Morel looked at him It seemed unreal his
gaiety At the back of it was too much horror and misery
»Now have some supper« she said very gently
Afterwards he said wistfully
»She never thought shed have me mother not from the first and so shes
not disappointed«
»Im afraid« said his mother »she doesnt give up hopes of you yet«
»No« he said »perhaps not«
»Youll find its better to have done« she said
»I dont know« he said desperately
»Well leave her alone« replied his mother
So he left her and she was alone Very few people cared for her and she
for very few people She remained alone with herself waiting
Chapter XII
Passion
He was gradually making it possible to earn a livelihood by his art Libertys
had taken several of his painted designs on various stuffs and he could sell
designs for embroideries for altarcloths and similar things in one or two
places It was not very much he made at present but he might extend it He had
also made friends with the designer for a pottery firm and was gaining some
knowledge of his new acquaintances art The applied arts interested him very
much At the same time he laboured slowly at his pictures He loved to paint
large figures full of light but not merely made up of lights and cast shadows
like the impressionists rather definite figures that had a certain luminous
quality like some of Michael Angelos people And these he fitted into a
landscape in what he thought true proportion He worked a great deal from
memory using everybody he knew He believed firmly in his work that it was
good and valuable In spite of fits of depression shrinking everything he
believed in his work
He was twentyfour when he said his first confident thing to his mother
»Mother« he said »I sll make a painter that theyll attend to«
She sniffed in her quaint fashion It was like a halfpleased shrug of the
shoulders
»Very well my boy well see« she said
»You shall see my pigeon You see if youre not swanky one of these days«
»Im quite content my boy« she smiled
»But youll have to alter Look at you with Minnie«
Minnie was the small servant a girl of fourteen
»And what about Minnie« asked Mrs Morel with dignity
»I heard her this morning Eh Mrs Morel I was going to do that when you
went out in the rain for some coal« he said »That looks a lot like your being
able to manage servants«
»Well it was only the childs niceness« said Mrs Morel
»And you apologising to her You cant do two things at once can you«
»She was busy washing up« replied Mrs Morel
»And what did she say It could easy have waited a bit Now look how your
feet paddle«
»Yes brazen young baggage« said Mrs Morel smiling
He looked at his mother laughing She was quite warm and rosy again with
love of him It seemed as if all the sunshine were on her for a moment He
continued his work gladly She seemed so well when she was happy that he forgot
her grey hair
And that year she went with him to the Isle of Wight for a holiday It was
too exciting for them both and too beautiful Mrs Morel was full of joy and
wonder But he would have her walk with him more than she was able She had a
bad fainting bout So grey her face was so blue her mouth It was agony to him
He felt as if someone were pushing a knife in his chest Then she was better
again and he forgot But the anxiety remained inside him like a wound that did
not close
After leaving Miriam he went almost straight to Clara On the Monday
following the day of the rupture he went down to the workroom She looked up at
him and smiled They had grown very intimate unawares She saw a new brightness
about him
»Well Queen of Sheba« he said laughing
»But why« she asked
»I think it suits you Youve got a new frock on«
She flushed asking
»And what of it«
»Suits you awfully I could design you a dress«
»How would it be«
He stood in front of her his eyes glittering as he expounded He kept her
eyes fixed with his Then suddenly he took hold of her She halfstarted back
He drew the stuff of her blouse tighter smoothed it over her breast
»More so« he explained
But they were both of them flaming with blushes and immediately he ran
away He had touched her His whole body was quivering with the sensation
There was already a sort of secret understanding between them The next
evening he went to the cinematograph with her for a few minutes before
traintime As they sat he saw her hand lying near him For some moments he
dared not touch it The pictures danced and dithered Then he took her hand in
his It was large and firm it filled his grasp He held it fast She neither
moved nor made any sign When they came out his train was due He hesitated
»Goodnight« she said He darted away across the road
The next day he came again talking to her She was rather superior with
him
»Shall we go a walk on Monday« he asked
She turned her face aside
»Shall you tell Miriam« she replied sarcastically
»I have broken off with her« he said
»When«
»Last Sunday«
»You quarrelled«
»No I had made up my mind I told her quite definitely I should consider
myself free«
Clara did not answer and he returned to his work She was so quiet and so
superb
On the Saturday evening he asked her to come and drink coffee with him in a
restaurant meeting him after work was over She came looking very reserved and
very distant He had threequarters of an hour to traintime
»We will walk a little while« he said
She agreed and they went past the Castle into the Park He was afraid of
her She walked moodily at his side with a kind of resentful reluctant angry
walk He was afraid to take her hand
»Which way shall we go« he asked as they walked in darkness
»I dont mind«
»Then well go up the steps«
He suddenly turned round They had passed the Park steps She stood still in
resentment at his suddenly abandoning her He looked for her She stood aloof
He caught her suddenly in his arms held her strained for a moment kissed her
Then he let her go
»Come along« he said penitent
She followed him He took her hand and kissed her fingertips They went in
silence When they came to the light he let go her hand Neither spoke till
they reached the station Then they looked each other in the eyes
»Goodnight« she said
And he went for his train His body acted mechanically People talked to
him He heard faint echoes answering them He was in a delirium He felt that he
would go mad if Monday did not come at once On Monday he would see her again
All himself was pitched there ahead Sunday intervened He could not bear it
He could not see her till Monday And Sunday intervened hour after hour of
tension He wanted to beat his head against the door of the carriage But he sat
still He drank some whisky on the way home but it only made it worse His
mother must not be upset that was all He dissembled and got quickly to bed
There he sat dressed with his chin on his knees staring out of the window at
the far hill with its few lights He neither thought nor slept but sat
perfectly still staring And when at last he was so cold that he came to
himself he found his watch had stopped at halfpast two It was after three
oclock He was exhausted but still there was the torment of knowing it was
only Sunday morning He went to bed and slept Then he cycled all day long till
he was fagged out And he scarcely knew where he had been But the day after was
Monday He slept till four oclock Then he lay and thought He was coming
nearer to himself he could see himself real somewhere in front She would go
a walk with him in the afternoon Afternoon It seemed years ahead
Slowly the hours crawled His father got up he heard him pottering about
Then the miner set off to the pit his heavy boots scraping the yard Cocks were
still crowing A cart went down the road His mother got up She knocked the
fire Presently she called him softly He answered as if he were asleep This
shell of himself did well
He was walking to the station another mile The train was near Nottingham
Would it stop before the tunnels But it did not matter it would get there
before dinnertime He was at Jordans She would come in half an hour At any
rate she would be near He had done the letters She would be there Perhaps
she had not come He ran downstairs Ah he saw her through the glass door Her
shoulders stooping a little to her work made him feel he could not go forward
he could not stand He went in He was pale nervous awkward and quite cold
Would she misunderstand him He could not write his real self with this shell
»And this afternoon« he struggled to say »You will come«
»I think so« she replied murmuring
He stood before her unable to say a word She hid her face from him Again
came over him the feeling that he would lose consciousness He set his teeth and
went upstairs He had done everything correctly yet and he would do so All the
morning things seemed a long way off as they do to a man under chloroform He
himself seemed under a tight band of constraint Then there was his other self
in the distance doing things entering stuff in a ledger and he watched that
faroff him carefully to see he made no mistake
But the ache and strain of it could not go on much longer He worked
incessantly Still it was only twelve oclock As if he had nailed his clothing
against the desk he stood there and worked forcing every stroke out of
himself It was a quarter to one he could clear away Then he ran downstairs
»You will meet me at the Fountain at two oclock« he said
»I cant be there till halfpast«
»Yes« he said
She saw his dark mad eyes
»I will try at a quarter past«
And he had to be content He went and got some dinner All the time he was
still under chloroform and every minute was stretched out indefinitely He
walked miles of streets Then he thought he would be late at the meetingplace
He was at the Fountain at five past two The torture of the next quarter of an
hour was refined beyond expression It was the anguish of combining the living
self with the shell Then he saw her She came And he was there
»You are late« he said
»Only five minutes« she answered
»Id never have done it to you« he laughed
She was in a dark blue costume He looked at her beautiful figure
»You want some flowers« he said going to the nearest florists
She followed him in silence He bought her a bunch of scarlet brickred
carnations She put them in her coat flushing
»Thats a fine colour« he said
»Id rather have had something softer« she said
He laughed
»Do you feel like a blot of vermilion walking down the street« he said
She hung her head afraid of the people they met He looked sideways at her
as they walked There was a wonderful close down on her face near the ear that
he wanted to touch And a certain heaviness the heaviness of a very full ear of
corn that dips slightly in the wind that there was about her made his brain
spin He seemed to be spinning down the street everything going round
As they sat in the tramcar she leaned her heavy shoulder against him and
he took her hand He felt himself coming round from the anæsthetic beginning to
breathe Her ear halfhidden among her blonde hair was near to him The
temptation to kiss it was almost too great But there were other people on top
of the car It still remained to him to kiss it After all he was not himself
he was some attribute of hers like the sunshine that fell on her
He looked quickly away It had been raining The big bluff of the Castle
rock was streaked with rain as it reared above the flat of the town They
crossed the wide black space of the Midland Railway and passed the cattle
enclosure that stood out white Then they ran down sordid Wilford Road
She rocked slightly to the trams motion and as she leaned against him
rocked upon him He was a vigorous slender man with exhaustless energy His
face was rough with roughhewn features like the common peoples but his eyes
under the deep brows were so full of life that they fascinated her They seemed
to dance and yet they were still trembling on the finest balance of laughter
His mouth the same was just going to spring into a laugh of triumph yet did
not There was a sharp suspense about him She bit her lip moodily His hand was
hard clenched over hers
They paid their two halfpennies at the turnstile and crossed the bridge The
Trent was very full It swept silent and insidious under the bridge travelling
in a soft body There had been a great deal of rain On the river levels were
flat gleams of flood water The sky was grey with glisten of silver here and
there In Wilford churchyard the dahlias were sodden with rain wet
blackcrimson balls No one was on the path that went along the green river
meadow along the elmtree colonnade
There was the faintest haze over the silverydark water and the green
meadowbank and the elmtrees that were spangled with gold The river slid by
in a body utterly silent and swift intertwining among itself like some subtle
complex creature Clara walked moodily beside him
»Why« she asked at length in rather a jarring tone »did you leave
Miriam«
He frowned
»Because I wanted to leave her« he said
»Why«
»Because I didnt want to go on with her And I didnt want to marry«
She was silent for a moment They picked their way down the muddy path
Drops of water fell from the elmtrees
»You didnt want to marry Miriam or you didnt want to marry at all« she
asked
»Both« he answered »both«
They had to manoeuvre to get to the stile because of the pools of water
»And what did she say« Clara asked
»Miriam She said I was a baby of four and that I always had battled her
off«
Clara pondered over this for a time
»But you have really been going with her for some time« she asked
»Yes«
»And now you dont want any more of her«
»No I know its no good«
She pondered again
»Dont you think youve treated her rather badly« she asked
»Yes I ought to have dropped it years back But it would have been no good
going on Two wrongs dont make a right«
»How old are you« Clara asked
»Twentyfive«
»And I am thirty« she said
»I know you are«
»I shall be thirtyone or am I thirtyone«
»I neither know nor care What does it matter«
They were at the entrance to the Grove The wet red track already sticky
with fallen leaves went up the steep bank between the grass On either side
stood the elmtrees like pillars along a great aisle arching over and making
high up a roof from which the dead leaves fell All was empty and silent and
wet She stood on top of the stile and he held both her hands Laughing she
looked down into his eyes Then she leaped Her breast came against his he held
her and covered her face with kisses
They went on up the slippery steep red path Presently she released his
hand and put it round her waist
»You press the vein in my arm holding it so tightly« she said
They walked along His fingertips felt the rocking of her breast All was
silent and deserted On the left the red wet ploughland showed through the
doorways between the elmboles and their branches On the right looking down
they could see the treetops of elms growing far beneath them hear occasionally
the gurgle of the river Sometimes there below they caught glimpses of the full
softsliding Trent and of watermeadows dotted with small cattle
»It has scarcely altered since little Kirke White used to come« he said
But he was watching her throat below the ear where the flush was fusing
into the honeywhite and her mouth that pouted disconsolate She stirred
against him as she walked and his body was like a taut string
Halfway up the big colonnade of elms where the Grove rose highest above
the river their forward movement faltered to an end He led her across to the
grass under the trees at the edge of the path The cliff of red earth sloped
swiftly down through trees and bushes to the river that glimmered and was dark
between the foliage The farbelow watermeadows were very green He and she
stood leaning against one another, silent afraid their bodies touching all
along There came a quick gurgle from the river below
»Why« he asked at length »did you hate Baxter Dawes«
She turned to him with a splendid movement Her mouth was offered him and
her throat her eyes were halfshut her breast was tilted as if it asked for
him He flashed with a small laugh shut his eyes and met her in a long whole
kiss Her mouth fused with his their bodies were sealed and annealed It was
some minutes before they withdrew They were standing beside the public path
»Will you go down to the river« he asked
She looked at him leaving herself in his hands He went over the brim of
the declivity and began to climb down
»It is slippery« he said
»Never mind« she replied
The red clay went down almost sheer He slid went from one tuft of grass to
the next hanging on to the bushes making for a little platform at the foot of
a tree There he waited for her laughing with excitement Her shoes were
clogged with red earth It was hard for her He frowned At last he caught her
hand and she stood beside him The cliff rose above them and fell away below
Her colour was up her eyes flashed He looked at the big drop below them
»Its risky« he said »or messy at any rate Shall we go back«
»Not for my sake« she said quickly
»All right You see I cant help you I should only hinder Give me that
little parcel and your gloves Your poor shoes«
They stood perched on the face of the declivity under the trees
»Well Ill go again« he said
Away he went slipping staggering sliding to the next tree into which he
fell with a slam that nearly shook the breath out of him She came after
cautiously hanging on to the twigs and grasses So they descended stage by
stage to the rivers brink There to his disgust the flood had eaten away the
path and the red decline ran straight into the water He dug in his heels and
brought himself up violently The string of the parcel broke with a snap the
brown parcel bounded down leaped into the water and sailed smoothly away He
hung on to his tree
»Well Ill be damned« he cried crossly Then he laughed She was coming
perilously down
»Mind« he warned her He stood with his back to the tree waiting »Come
now« he called opening his arms
She let herself run He caught her and together they stood watching the
dark water scoop at the raw edge of the bank The parcel had sailed out of
sight
»It doesnt matter« she said
He held her close and kissed her There was only room for their four feet
»Its a swindle« he said »But theres a rut where a man has been so if we
go on I guess we shall find the path again«
The river slid and twined its great volume On the other bank cattle were
feeding on the desolate flats The cliff rose high above Paul and Clara on their
right hand They stood against the tree in the watery silence
»Let us try going forward« he said and they struggled in the red clay
along the groove a mans nailed boots had made They were hot and flushed Their
barkled shoes hung heavy on their steps At last they found the broken path It
was littered with rubble from the water but at any rate it was easier They
cleaned their boots with twigs His heart was beating thick and fast
Suddenly coming on to the little level he saw two figures of men standing
silent at the waters edge His heart leaped They were fishing He turned and
put his hand up warningly to Clara She hesitated buttoned her coat The two
went on together
The fishermen turned curiously to watch the two intruders on their privacy
and solitude They had had a fire but it was nearly out All kept perfectly
still The men turned again to their fishing stood over the grey glinting river
like statues Clara went with bowed head flushing he was laughing to himself
Directly they passed out of sight behind the willows
»Now they ought to be drowned« said Paul softly
Clare did not answer They toiled forward along a tiny path on the rivers
lip Suddenly it vanished The bank was sheer red solid clay in front of them
sloping straight into the river He stood and cursed beneath his breath setting
his teeth
»Its impossible« said Clara
He stood erect looking round Just ahead were two islets in the stream
covered with osiers But they were unattainable The cliff came down like a
sloping wall from far above their heads Behind not far back were the
fishermen Across the river the distant cattle fed silently in the desolate
afternoon He cursed again deeply under his breath He gazed up the great steep
bank Was there no hope but to scale back to the public path
»Stop a minute« he said and digging his heels sideways into the steep
bank of red clay he began nimbly to mount He looked across at every treefoot
At last he found what he wanted Two beechtrees side by side on the hill held a
little level on the upper face between their roots It was littered with damp
leaves but it would do The fishermen were perhaps sufficiently out of sight
He threw down his rainproof and waved to her to come
She toiled to his side Arriving there she looked at him heavily dumbly
and laid her head on his shoulder He held her fast as he looked round They
were safe enough from all but the small lonely cows over the river He sunk his
mouth on her throat where he felt her heavy pulse beat under his lips
Everything was perfectly still There was nothing in the afternoon but
themselves
When she arose he looking on the ground all the time saw suddenly
sprinkled on the black wet beechroots many scarlet carnation petals like
splashed drops of blood and red small splashes fell from her bosom streaming
down her dress to her feet
»Your flowers are smashed« he said
She looked at him heavily as she put back her hair Suddenly he put his
fingertips on her cheek
»Why dost look so heavy« he reproached her
She smiled sadly as if she felt alone in herself He caressed her cheek
with his fingers and kissed her
»Nay« he said »Never thee bother«
She gripped his fingers tight and laughed shakily Then she dropped her
hand He put the hair back from her brows stroking her temples kissing them
lightly
»But tha shouldna worrit« he said softly pleading
»No I dont worry« she laughed tenderly and resigned
»Yea tha does Dunna thee worrit« he implored caressing
»No« she consoled him kissing him
They had a stiff climb to get to the top again It took them a quarter of an
hour When he got on to the level grass he threw off his cap wiped the sweat
from his forehead and sighed
»Now were back at the ordinary level« he said
She sat down panting on the tussocky grass Her cheeks were flushed pink
He kissed her and she gave way to joy
»And now Ill clean thy boots and make thee fit for respectable folk« he
said
He kneeled at her feet worked away with a stick and tufts of grass She put
her fingers in his hair drew his head to her and kissed it
»What am I supposed to be doing« he said looking at her laughing
»cleaning shoes or dibbling with love Answer me that«
»Just whichever I please« she replied
»Im your bootboy for the time being and nothing else« But they remained
looking into each others eyes and laughing Then they kissed with little
nibbling kisses
»Tttt« he went with his tongue like his mother »I tell you nothing
gets done when theres a woman about«
And he returned to his bootcleaning singing softly She touched his thick
hair and he kissed her fingers He worked away at her shoes At last they were
quite presentable
»There you are you see« he said »Arent I a great hand at restoring you
to respectability Stand up There you look as irreproachable as Britannia
herself«
He cleaned his own boots a little washed his hands in a puddle and sang
They went on into Clifton village He was madly in love with her every movement
she made every crease in her garments sent a hot flash through him and seemed
adorable
The old lady at whose house they had tea was roused into gaiety by them
»I could wish youd had something of a better day« she said hovering
round
»Nay« he laughed »Weve been saying how nice it is«
The old lady looked at him curiously There was a peculiar glow and charm
about him His eyes were dark and laughing He rubbed his moustache with a glad
movement
»Have you been saying so« she exclaimed a light rousing in her old eyes
»Truly« he laughed
»Then Im sure the days good enough« said the old lady
She fussed about and did not want to leave them
»I dont know whether youd like some radishes as well« she said to Clara
»but Ive got some in the garden and a cucumber«
Clara flushed She looked very handsome
»I should like some radishes« she answered
And the old lady pottered off gleefully
»If she knew« said Clara quietly to him
»Well she doesnt know and it shows were nice in ourselves at any rate
You look quite enough to satisfy an archangel and Im sure I feel harmless so
if it makes you look nice and makes folk happy when they have us and makes
us happy why were not cheating them out of much«
They went on with the meal When they were going away the old lady came
timidly with three tiny dahlias in full blow neat as bees and speckled scarlet
and white She stood before Clara pleased with herself saying
»I dont know whether « and holding the flowers forward in her old hand
»Oh how pretty« cried Clara accepting the flowers
»Shall she have them all« asked Paul reproachfully of the old woman
»Yes she shall have them all« she replied beaming with joy »You have got
enough for your share«
»Ah but I shall ask her to give me one« he teased
»Then she does as she pleases« said the old lady smiling And she bobbed a
little curtsey of delight
Clara was rather quiet and uncomfortable As they walked along he said
»You dont feel criminal do you«
She looked at him with startled grey eyes
»Criminal« she said »No«
»But you seem to feel you have done a wrong«
»No« she said »I only think If they knew«
»If they knew theyd cease to understand As it is they do understand and
they like it What do they matter Here with only the trees and me you dont
feel not the least bit wrong do you«
He took her by the arm held her facing him holding her eyes with his
Something fretted him
»Not sinners are we« he said with an uneasy little frown
»No« she replied
He kissed her laughing
»You like your little bit of guiltiness I believe« he said »I believe Eve
enjoyed it when she went cowering out of Paradise«
But there was a certain glow and quietness about her that made him glad
When he was alone in the railwaycarriage he found himself tumultuously happy
and the people exceedingly nice and the night lovely and everything good
Mrs Morel was sitting reading when he got home Her health was not good
now and there had come that ivory pallor into her face which he never noticed
and which afterwards he never forgot She did not mention her own illhealth to
him After all she thought it was not much
»You are late« she said looking at him
His eyes were shining his face seemed to glow He smiled to her
»Yes Ive been down Clifton Grove with Clara«
His mother looked at him again
»But wont people talk« she said
»Why They know shes a suffragette and so on And what if they do talk«
»Of course there may be nothing wrong in it« said his mother »But you
know what folks are and if once she gets talked about «
»Well I cant help it Their jaw isnt so almighty important after all«
»I think you ought to consider her«
»So I do What can people say that we take a walk together I believe
youre jealous«
»You know I should be glad if she werent a married woman«
»Well my dear she lives separate from her husband and talks on platforms
so shes already singled out from the sheep and as far as I can see hasnt
much to lose No her lifes nothing to her so whats the worth of nothing She
goes with me it becomes something Then she must pay we both must pay Folk
are so frightened of paying theyd rather starve and die«
»Very well my son Well see how it will end«
»Very well my mother Ill abide by the end«
»Well see«
»And shes shes awfully nice mother she is really You dont know«
»Thats not the same as marrying her«
»Its perhaps better«
There was silence for a while He wanted to ask his mother something but
was afraid
»Should you like to know her« He hesitated
»Yes« said Mrs Morel coolly »I should like to know what shes like«
»But shes nice mother she is And not a bit common«
»I never suggested she was«
»But you seem to think shes not as good as Shes better than
ninetynine folk out of a hundred I tell you Shes better she is Shes fair
shes honest she straight There isnt anything underhand or superior about
her Dont be mean about her«
Mrs Morel flushed
»I am sure I am not mean about her She may be quite as you say but «
»You dont approve« he finished
»And do you expect me to« she answered coldly
»Yes yes if youd anything about you youd be glad Do you want to
see her«
»I said I did«
»Then Ill bring her shall I bring her here«
»You please yourself«
»Then I will bring her here one Sunday to tea If you think a horrid
thing about her I shant forgive you«
His mother laughed
»As if it would make any difference« she said He knew he had won
»Oh but it feels so fine when shes there Shes such a queen in her way«
Occasionally he still walked a little way from chapel with Miriam and Edgar
He did not go up to the farm She however was very much the same with him and
he did not feel embarrassed in her presence One evening she was alone when he
accompanied her They began by talking books it was their unfailing topic Mrs
Morel had said that his and Miriams affair was like a fire fed on books if
there were no more volumes it would die out Miriam for her part boasted that
she could read him like a book could place her finger any minute on the chapter
and the line He easily taken in believed that Miriam knew more about him than
anyone else So it pleased him to talk to her about himself like the simplest
egoist Very soon the conversation drifted to his own doings It flattered him
immensely that he was of such supreme interest
»And what have you been doing lately«
»I oh not much I made a sketch of Bestwood from the garden that is
nearly right at last Its the hundredth try«
So they went on Then she said
»Youve not been out then lately«
»Yes I went up Clifton Grove on Monday afternoon with Clara«
»It was not very nice weather« said Miriam »was it«
»But I wanted to go out and it was all right The Trent is full«
»And did you go to Barton« she asked
»No we had tea in Clifton«
»Did you That would be nice«
»It was The jolliest old woman She gave us several pompom dahlias as
pretty as you like«
Miriam bowed her head and brooded He was quite unconscious of concealing
anything from her
»What made her give them you« she asked
He laughed
»Because she liked us because we were jolly I should think«
Miriam put her finger in her mouth
»Were you late home« she asked
At last he resented her tone
»I caught the seventhirty«
»Ha«
They walked on in silence and he was angry
»And how is Clara« asked Miriam
»Quite all right I think«
»Thats good« she said with a tinge of irony »By the way what of her
husband One never hears anything of him«
»Hes got some other woman and is also quite all right« he replied »At
least so I think«
»I see you dont know for certain Dont you think a position like that is
hard on a woman«
»Rottenly hard«
»Its so unjust« said Miriam »The man does as he likes «
»Then let the woman also« he said
»How can she And if she does look at her position«
»What of it«
»Why its impossible You dont understand what a woman forfeits «
»No I dont But if a womans got nothing but her fair fame to feed on
why its thin tack and a donkey would die of it«
So she understood his moral attitude at least and she knew he would act
accordingly
She never asked him anything direct but she got to know enough
Another day when he saw Miriam the conversation turned to marriage then
to Claras marriage with Dawes
»You see« he said »she never knew the fearful importance of marriage She
thought it was all in the days march it would have to come and Dawes
well a good many women would have given their souls to get him so why not him
Then she developed into the femme incomprise and treated him badly Ill bet my
boots«
»And she left him because he didnt understand her«
»I suppose so I suppose she had to It isnt altogether a question of
understanding its a question of living With him she was only halfalive the
rest was dormant deadened And the dormant woman was the femme incomprise and
she had to be awakened«
»And what about him«
»I dont know I rather think he loves her as much as he can but hes a
fool«
»It was something like your mother and father« said Miriam
»Yes but my mother I believe got real joy and satisfaction out of my
father at first I believe she had a passion for him thats why she stayed with
him After all they were bound to each other«
»Yes« said Miriam
»Thats what one must have I think« he continued »the real real flame
of feeling through another person once only once if it only lasts three
months See my mother looks as if shed had everything that was necessary for
her living and developing Theres not a tiny bit of feeling of sterility about
her«
»No« said Miriam
»And with my father at first Im sure she had the real thing She knows
she has been there You can feel it about her and about him and about hundreds
of people you meet every day and once it has happened to you you can go on
with anything and ripen«
»What happened exactly« asked Miriam
»Its so hard to say but the something big and intense that changes you
when you really come together with somebody else It almost seems to fertilise
your soul and make it that you can go on and mature«
»And you think your mother had it with your father«
»Yes and at the bottom she feels grateful to him for giving it her even
now though they are miles apart«
»And you think Clara never had it«
»Im sure«
Miriam pondered this She saw what he was seeking a sort of baptism of
fire in passion it seemed to her She realised that he would never be satisfied
till he had it Perhaps it was essential to him as to some men to sow wild
oats and afterwards when he was satisfied he would not rage with restlessness
any more but could settle down and give her his life into her hands Well
then if he must go let him go and have his fill something big and intense
he called it At any rate when he had got it he would not want it that he
said himself he would want the other thing that she could give him He would
want to be owned so that he could work It seemed to her a bitter thing that he
must go but she could let him go into an inn for a glass of whisky so she
could let him go to Clara so long as it was something that would satisfy a need
in him and leave him free for herself to possess
»Have you told your mother about Clara« she asked
She knew this would be a test of the seriousness of his feeling for the
other woman she knew he was going to Clara for something vital not as a man
goes for pleasure to a prostitute if he told his mother
»Yes« he said »and she is coming to tea on Sunday«
»To your house«
»Yes I want mater to see her«
»Ah«
There was a silence Things had gone quicker than she thought She felt a
sudden bitterness that he could leave her so soon and so entirely And was Clara
to be accepted by his people who had been so hostile to herself
»I may call in as I go to chapel« she said »It is a long time since I saw
Clara«
»Very well« he said astonished and unconsciously angry
On the Sunday afternoon he went to Keston to meet Clara at the station As
he stood on the platform he was trying to examine in himself if he had a
premonition
»Do I feel as if shed come« he said to himself and he tried to find out
His heart felt queer and contracted That seemed like foreboding Then he had a
foreboding she would not come Then she would not come and instead of taking
her over the fields home as he had imagined he would have to go alone The
train was late the afternoon would be wasted and the evening He hated her for
not coming Why had she promised then if she could not keep her promise
Perhaps she had missed her train he himself was always missing trains but
that was no reason why she should miss this particular one He was angry with
her he was furious
Suddenly he saw the train crawling sneaking round the corner Here then
was the train but of course she had not come The green engine hissed along the
platform the row of brown carriages drew up several doors opened No she had
not come No Yes ah there she was She had a big black hat on He was at her
side in a moment
»I thought you werent coming« he said
She was laughing rather breathlessly as she put out her hand to him their
eyes met He took her quickly along the platform talking at a great rate to
hide his feeling She looked beautiful In her hat were large silk roses
coloured like tarnished gold Her costume of dark cloth fitted so beautifully
over her breast and shoulders His pride went up as he walked with her He felt
the station people who knew him eyed her with awe and admiration
»I was sure you werent coming« he laughed shakily
She laughed in answer almost with a little cry
»And I wondered when I was in the train whatever I should do if you
werent there« she said
He caught her hand impulsively and they went along the narrow twitchel
They took the road into Nuttall and over the Reckoning House Farm It was a
blue mild day Everywhere the brown leaves lay scattered many scarlet hips
stood upon the hedge beside the wood He gathered a few for her to wear
»Though really« he said as he fitted them into the breast of her coat
»you ought to object to my getting them because of the birds But they dont
care much for rosehips in this part where they can get plenty of stuff You
often find the berries going rotten in the springtime«
So he chattered scarcely aware of what he said only knowing he was putting
berries in the bosom of her coat while she stood patiently for him And she
watched his quick hands so full of life and it seemed to her she had never
seen anything before Till now everything had been indistinct
They came near to the colliery It stood quite still and black among the
cornfields its immense heap of slag seen rising almost from the oats
»What a pity there is a coalpit here where it is so pretty« said Clara
»Do you think so« he answered »You see I am so used to it I should miss
it No and I like the pits here and there I like the rows of trucks and the
headstocks and the steam in the daytime and the lights at night When I was a
boy I always thought a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night was
a pit with its steam and its lights and the burning bank and I thought the
Lord was always at the pittop«
As they drew near home she walked in silence and seemed to hang back He
pressed her fingers in his own She flushed but gave no response
»Dont you want to come home« he asked
»Yes I want to come« she replied
It did not occur to him that her position in his home would be rather a
peculiar and difficult one To him it seemed just as if one of his men friends
were going to be introduced to his mother only nicer
The Morels lived in a house in an ugly street that ran down a steep hill
The street itself was hideous The house was rather superior to most It was
old grimy with a big bay window and it was semidetached but it looked
gloomy Then Paul opened the door to the garden and all was different The
sunny afternoon was there like another land By the path grew tansy and little
trees In front of the window was a plot of sunny grass with old lilacs round
it And away went the garden with heaps of dishevelled chrysanthemums in the
sunshine down to the sycamoretree and the field and beyond one looked over a
few redroofed cottages to the hills with all the glow of the autumn afternoon
Mrs Morel sat in her rockingchair wearing her black silk blouse Her
greybrown hair was taken smooth back from her brow and her high temples her
face was rather pale Clara suffering followed Paul into the kitchen Mrs
Morel rose Clara thought her a lady even rather stiff The young woman was
very nervous She had almost a wistful look almost resigned
»Mother Clara« said Paul
Mrs Morel held out her hand and smiled
»He has told me a good deal about you« she said
The blood flamed in Claras cheek
»I hope you dont mind my coming« she faltered
»I was pleased when he said he would bring you« replied Mrs Morel
Paul watching felt his heart contract with pain His mother looked so
small and sallow and donefor beside the luxuriant Clara
»Its such a pretty day mother« he said »And we saw a jay«
His mother looked at him he had turned to her She thought what a man he
seemed in his dark wellmade clothes He was pale and detachedlooking it
would be hard for any woman to keep him Her heart glowed then she was sorry
for Clara
»Perhaps youll leave your things in the parlour« said Mrs Morel nicely to
the young woman
»Oh thank you« she replied
»Come on« said Paul and he led the way into the little front room with
its old piano its mahogany furniture its yellowing marble mantelpiece A fire
was burning the place was littered with books and drawingboards »I leave my
things lying about« he said »Its so much easier«
She loved his artists paraphernalia and the books and the photos of
people Soon he was telling her this was William this was Williams young lady
in the evening dress this was Annie and her husband this was Arthur and his
wife and the baby She felt as if she were being taken into the family He
showed her photos books sketches and they talked a little while Then they
returned to the kitchen Mrs Morel put aside her book Clara wore a blouse of
fine silk chiffon with narrow blackandwhite stripes her hair was done
simply coiled on top of her head She looked rather stately and reserved
»You have gone to live down Sneinton Boulevard« said Mrs Morel »When I
was a girl girl I say when I was a young woman we lived in Minerva
Terrace«
»Oh did you« said Clara »I have a friend in number 6«
And the conversation had started They talked Nottingham and Nottingham
people it interested them both Clara was still rather nervous Mrs Morel was
still somewhat on her dignity She clipped her language very clear and precise
But they were going to get on well together Paul saw
Mrs Morel measured herself against the younger woman and found herself
easily stronger Clara was deferential She knew Pauls surprising regard for
his mother and she had dreaded the meeting expecting someone rather hard and
cold She was surprised to find this little interested woman chatting with such
readiness and then she felt as she felt with Paul that she would not care to
stand in Mrs Morels way There was something so hard and certain in his
mother as if she never had a misgiving in her life
Presently Morel came down ruffled and yawning from his afternoon sleep He
scratched his grizzled head he podded in his stocking feet his waistcoat hung
open over his shirt He seemed incongruous
»This is Mrs Dawes father« said Paul
Then Morel pulled himself together Clara saw Pauls manner of bowing and
shaking hands
»Oh indeed« exclaimed Morel »I am very glad to see you I am I assure
you But dont disturb yourself No no make yourself quite comfortable and be
very welcome«
Clara was astonished at this flood of hospitality from the old collier He
was so courteous so gallant She thought him most delightful
»And may you have come far« he asked
»Only from Nottingham« she said
»From Nottingham Then you have had a beautiful day for your journey«
Then he strayed into the scullery to wash his hands and face and from force
of habit came on to the hearth with the towel to dry himself
At tea Clara felt the refinement and sangfroid of the household Mrs Morel
was perfectly at her ease The pouring out the tea and attending to the people
went on unconsciously without interrupting her in her talk There was a lot of
room at the oval table the china of dark blue willowpattern looked pretty on
the glossy cloth There was a little bowl of small yellow chrysanthemums Clara
felt she completed the circle and it was a pleasure to her But she was rather
afraid of the self-possession of the Morels father and all She took their
tone there was a feeling of balance It was a cool clear atmosphere where
everyone was himself and in harmony Clara enjoyed it but there was a fear
deep at the bottom of her
Paul cleared the table whilst his mother and Clara talked Clara was
conscious of his quick vigorous body as it came and went seeming blown quickly
by a wind at its work It was almost like the hither and thither of a leaf that
comes unexpected Most of herself went with him By the way she leaned forward
as if listening Mrs Morel could see she was possessed elsewhere as she talked
and again the elder woman was sorry for her
Having finished he strolled down the garden leaving the two women to talk
It was a hazy sunny afternoon mild and soft Clara glanced through the window
after him as he loitered among the chrysanthemums She felt as if something
almost tangible fastened her to him yet he seemed so easy in his graceful
indolent movement so detached as he tied up the tooheavy flower branches to
their stakes that she wanted to shriek in her helplessness
Mrs Morel rose
»You will let me help you wash up« said Clara
»Eh there are so few it will only take a minute« said the other
Clara however dried the teathings and was glad to be on such good terms
with his mother but it was torture not to be able to follow him down the
garden At last she allowed herself to go she felt as if a rope were taken off
her ankle
The afternoon was golden over the hills of Derbyshire He stood across in
the other garden beside a bush of pale Michaelmas daisies watching the last
bees crawl into the hive Hearing her coming he turned to her with an easy
motion saying
»Its the end of the run with these chaps«
Clara stood near him Over the low red wall in front was the country and the
faroff hills all golden dim
At that moment Miriam was entering through the gardendoor She saw Clara go
up to him saw him turn and saw them come to rest together Something in their
perfect isolation together made her know that it was accomplished between them
that they were as she put it married She walked very slowly down the
cindertrack of the long garden
Clara had pulled a button from a hollyhock spire and was breaking it to get
the seeds Above her bowed head the pink flowers stared as if defending her
The last bees were falling down to the hive
»Count your money« laughed Paul as she broke the flat seeds one by one
from the roll of coin She looked at him
»Im well off« she said smiling
»How much Pf« He snapped his fingers »Can I turn them into gold«
»Im afraid not« she laughed
They looked into each others eyes laughing At that moment they became
aware of Miriam There was a click and everything had altered
»Hello Miriam« he exclaimed »You said youd come«
»Yes Had you forgotten«
She shook hands with Clara saying
»It seems strange to see you here«
»Yes« replied the other »it seems strange to be here«
There was a hesitation
»This is pretty isnt it« said Miriam
»I like it very much« replied Clara
Then Miriam realised that Clara was accepted as she had never been
»Have you come down alone« asked Paul
»Yes I went to Agathas to tea We are going to chapel I only called in
for a moment to see Clara«
»You should have come in here to tea« he said
Miriam laughed shortly and Clara turned impatiently aside
»Do you like the chrysanthemums« he asked
»Yes they are very fine« replied Miriam
»Which sort do you like best« he asked
»I dont know The bronze I think«
»I dont think youve seen all the sorts Come and look Come and see which
are your favourites Clara«
He led the two women back to his own garden where the towsled bushes of
flowers of all colours stood raggedly along the path down to the field The
situation did not embarrass him to his knowledge
»Look Miriam these are the white ones that came from your garden They
arent so fine here are they«
»No« said Miriam
»But theyre hardier Youre so sheltered things grow big and tender and
then die These little yellow ones I like Will you have some«
While they were out there the bells began to ring in the church sounding
loud across the town and the field Miriam looked at the tower proud among the
clustering roofs and remembered the sketches he had brought her It had been
different then but he had not left her even yet She asked him for a book to
read He ran indoors
»What is that Miriam« asked his mother coldly
»Yes she said shed call and see Clara«
»You told her then« came the sarcastic answer
»Yes why shouldnt I«
»Theres certainly no reason why you shouldnt« said Mrs Morel and she
returned to her book He winced from his mothers irony frowned irritably
thinking »Why cant I do as I like«
»Youve not seen Mrs Morel before« Miriam was saying to Clara
»No but shes so nice«
»Yes« said Miriam dropping her head »in some ways shes very fine«
»I should think so«
»Had Paul told you much about her«
»He had talked a good deal«
»Ha«
There was silence until he returned with the book
»When will you want it back« Miriam asked
»When you like« he answered
Clara turned to go indoors whilst he accompanied Miriam to the gate
»When will you come up to Willey Farm« the latter asked
»I couldnt say« replied Clara
»Mother asked me to say shed be pleased to see you any time if you cared
to come«
»Thank you I should like to but I cant say when«
»Oh very well« exclaimed Miriam rather bitterly turning away
She went down the path with her mouth to the flowers he had given her
»Youre sure you wont come in« he said
»No thanks«
»We are going to chapel«
»Ah I shall see you then« Miriam was very bitter
»Yes«
They parted He felt guilty towards her She was bitter and she scorned
him He still belonged to herself she believed yet he could have Clara take
her home sit with her next his mother in chapel give her the same hymnbook he
had given herself years before She heard him running quickly indoors
But he did not go straight in Halting on the plot of grass he heard his
mothers voice then Claras answer
»What I hate is the bloodhound quality in Miriam«
»Yes« said his mother quickly »yes doesnt it make you hate her now«
His heart went hot and he was angry with them for talking about the girl
What right had they to say that Something in the speech itself stung him into a
flame of hate against Miriam Then his own heart rebelled furiously at Claras
taking the liberty of speaking so about Miriam After all the girl was the
better woman of the two he thought if it came to goodness He went indoors
His mother looked excited She was beating with her hand rhythmically on the
sofaarm as women do who are wearing out He could never bear to see the
movement There was a silence then he began to talk
In chapel Miriam saw him find the place in the hymnbook for Clara in
exactly the same way as he used for herself And during the sermon he could see
the girl across the chapel her hat throwing a dark shadow over her face What
did she think seeing Clara with him He did not stop to consider He felt
himself cruel towards Miriam
After chapel he went over Pentrich with Clara It was a dark autumn night
They had said goodbye to Miriam and his heart had smitten him as he left the
girl alone »But it serves her right« he said inside himself and it almost
gave him pleasure to go off under her eyes with this other handsome woman
There was a scent of damp leaves in the darkness Claras hand lay warm and
inert in his own as they walked He was full of conflict The battle that raged
inside him made him feel desperate
Up Pentrich Hill Clara leaned against him as he went He slid his arm round
her waist Feeling the strong motion of her body under his arm as she walked
the tightness in his chest because of Miriam relaxed and the hot blood bathed
him He held her closer and closer
Then »You still keep on with Miriam« she said quietly
»Only talk There never was a great deal more than talk between us« he said
bitterly
»Your mother doesnt care for her« said Clara
»No or I might have married her But its all up really«
Suddenly his voice went passionate with hate
»If I was with her now we should be jawing about the Christian Mystery or
some such tack Thank God Im not«
They walked on in silence for some time
»But you cant really give her up« said Clara
»I dont give her up because theres nothing to give« he said
»There is for her«
»I dont know why she and I shouldnt be friends as long as we live« he
said »But itll only be friends«
Clara drew away from him leaning away from contact with him
»What are you drawing away for« he asked
She did not answer but drew farther from him
»Why do you want to walk alone« he asked
Still there was no answer She walked resentfully hanging her head
»Because I said I would be friends with Miriam« he exclaimed
She would not answer him anything
»I tell you its only words that go between us« he persisted trying to
take her again
She resisted Suddenly he strode across in front of her barring her way
»Damn it« he said »What do you want now«
»Youd better run after Miriam« mocked Clara
The blood flamed up in him He stood showing his teeth She drooped sulkily
The lane was dark quite lonely He suddenly caught her in his arms stretched
forward and put his mouth on her face in a kiss of rage She turned frantically
to avoid him He held her fast Hard and relentless his mouth came for her Her
breasts hurt against the wall of his chest Helpless she went loose in his
arms and he kissed her and kissed her
He heard people coming down the hill
»Stand up stand up« he said thickly gripping her arm till it hurt If he
had let go she would have sunk to the ground
She sighed and walked dizzily beside him They went on in silence
»We will go over the fields« he said and then she woke up
But she let herself be helped over the stile and she walked in silence with
him over the first dark field It was the way to Nottingham and to the station
she knew He seemed to be looking about They came out on a bare hilltop where
stood the dark figure of the ruined windmill There he halted They stood
together high up in the darkness looking at the lights scattered on the night
before them handfuls of glittering points villages lying high and low on the
dark here and there
»Like treading among the stars« he said with a quaky laugh
Then he took her in his arms and held her fast She moved aside her mouth
to ask dogged and low
»What time is it«
»It doesnt matter« he pleaded thickly
»Yes it does yes I must go«
»Its early yet« he said
»What time is it« she insisted
All round lay the black night speckled and spangled with lights
»I dont know«
She put her hand on his chest feeling for his watch He felt the joints
fuse into fire She groped in his waistcoat pocket while he stood panting In
the darkness she could see the round pale face of the watch but not the
figures She stooped over it He was panting till he could take her in his arms
again
»I cant see« she said
»Then dont bother«
»Yes Im going« she said turning away
»Wait Ill look« But he could not see »Ill strike a match«
He secretly hoped it was too late to catch the train She saw the glowing
lantern of his hands as he cradled the light then his face lit up his eyes
fixed on the watch Instantly all was dark again All was black before her eyes
only a glowing match was red near her feet Where was he
»What is it« she asked afraid
»You cant do it« his voice answered out of the darkness
There was a pause She felt in his power She had heard the ring in his
voice It frightened her
»What time is it« she asked quiet definite hopeless
»Two minutes to nine« he replied telling the truth with a struggle
»And can I get from here to the station in fourteen minutes«
»No At any rate «
She could distinguish his dark form again a yard or so away She wanted to
escape
»But cant I do it« she pleaded
»If you hurry« he said brusquely »But you could easily walk it Clara
its only seven miles to the tram Ill come with you«
»No I want to catch the train«
»But why«
»I do I want to catch the train«
Suddenly his voice altered
»Very well« he said dry and hard »Come along then«
And he plunged ahead into the darkness She ran after him wanting to cry
Now he was hard and cruel to her She ran over the rough dark fields behind
him out of breath ready to drop But the double row of lights at the station
drew nearer Suddenly
»There she is« he cried breaking into a run
There was a faint rattling noise Away to the right the train like a
luminous caterpillar was threading across the night The rattling ceased
»Shes over the viaduct Youll just do it«
Clara ran quite out of breath and fell at last into the train The whistle
blew He was gone Gone and she was in a carriage full of people She felt
the cruelty of it
He turned round and plunged home Before he knew where he was he was in the
kitchen at home He was very pale His eyes were dark and dangerouslooking as
if he were drunk His mother looked at him
»Well I must say your boots are in a nice state« she said
He looked at his feet Then he took off his overcoat His mother wondered if
he were drunk
»She caught the train then« she said
»Yes«
»I hope her feet werent so filthy Where on earth you dragged her I dont
know«
He was silent and motionless for some time
»Did you like her« he asked grudgingly at last
»Yes I liked her But youll tire of her my son you know you will«
He did not answer She noticed how he laboured in his breathing
»Have you been running« she asked
»We had to run for the train«
»Youll go and knock yourself up Youd better drink hot milk«
It was a good a stimulant as he could have but he refused and went to bed
There he lay face down on the counterpane and shed tears of rage and pain
There was a physical pain that made him bite his lips till they bled and the
chaos inside him left him unable to think almost to feel
»This is how she serves me is it« he said in his heart over and over
pressing his face in the quilt And he hated her Again he went over the scene
and again he hated her
The next day there was a new aloofness about him Clara was very gentle
almost loving But he treated her distantly with a touch of contempt She
sighed continuing to be gentle He came round
One evening of that week Sarah Bernhardt was at the Theatre Royal in
Nottingham giving »La Dame aux Camélias« Paul wanted to see this old and
famous actress and he asked Clara to accompany him He told his mother to leave
the key in the window for him
»Shall I book seats« he asked of Clara
»Yes And put on an evening suit will you Ive never seen you in it«
»But good Lord Clara Think of me in evening suit at the theatre« he
remonstrated
»Would you rather not« she asked
»I will if you want me to but I sll feel a fool«
She laughed at him
»Then feel a fool for my sake once wont you«
The request made his blood flush up
»I suppose I sll have to«
»What are you taking a suitcase for« his mother asked
He blushed furiously
»Clara asked me« he said
»And what seats are you going in«
»Circle threeandsix each«
»Well Im sure« exclaimed his mother sarcastically
»Its only once in the bluest of blue moons« he said
He dressed at Jordans put on an overcoat and a cap and met Clara in a
café She was with one of her suffragette friends She wore an old long coat
which did not suit her and had a little wrap over her head which he hated The
three went to the theatre together
Clara took off her coat on the stairs and he discovered she was in a sort
of semievening dress that left her arms and neck and part of her breast bare
Her hair was done fashionably The dress a simple thing of green crape suited
her She looked quite grand he thought He could see her figure inside the
frock as if that were wrapped closely round her The firmness and the softness
of her upright body could almost be felt as he looked at her He clenched his
fists
And he was to sit all the evening beside her beautiful naked arm watching
the strong throat rise from the strong chest watching the breasts under the
green stuff the curve of her limbs in the tight dress Something in him hated
her again for submitting him to this torture of nearness And he loved her as
she balanced her head and stared straight in front of her pouting wistful
immobile as if she yielded herself to her fate because it was too strong for
her She could not help herself she was in the grip of something bigger than
herself A kind of eternal look about her as if she were a wistful sphinx made
it necessary for him to kiss her He dropped his programme and crouched down on
the floor to get it so that he could kiss her hand and wrist Her beauty was a
torture to him She sat immobile Only when the lights went down she sank a
little against him and he caressed her hand and arm with his fingers He could
smell her faint perfume All the time his blood kept sweeping up in great
whitehot waves that killed his consciousness momentarily
The drama continued He saw it all in the distance going on somewhere he
did not know where but it seemed far away inside him He was Claras white
heavy arms her throat her moving bosom That seemed to be himself Then away
somewhere the play went on and he was identified with that also There was no
himself The grey and black eyes of Clara her bosom coming down on him her arm
that he held gripped between his hands were all that existed Then he felt
himself small and helpless her towering in her force above him
Only the intervals when the lights came up hurt him expressibly He wanted
to run anywhere so long at it would be dark again In a maze he wandered out
for a drink Then the lights were out and the strange insane reality of Clara
and the drama took hold of him again
The play went on But he was obsessed by the desire to kiss the tiny blue
vein that nestled in the bend of her arm He could feel it His whole face
seemed suspended till he had put his lips there It must be done And the other
people At last he bent quickly forward and touched it with his lips His
moustache brushed the sensitive flesh Clara shivered drew away her arm
When all was over the lights up the people clapping he came to himself
and looked at his watch His train was gone
»I sll have to walk home« he said
Clara looked at him
»It is too late« she asked
He nodded Then he helped her on with her coat
»I love you You look beautiful in that dress« he murmured over her
shoulder among the throng of bustling people
She remained quiet Together they went out of the theatre He saw the cabs
waiting the people passing It seemed he met a pair of brown eyes which hated
him But he did not know He and Clara turned away mechanically taking the
direction to the station
The train had gone He would have to walk the ten miles home
»It doesnt matter« he said »I shall enjoy it«
»Wont you« she said flushing »come home for the night I can sleep with
mother«
He looked at her Their eyes met
»What will your mother say« he asked
»She wont mind«
»Youre sure«
»Quite«
»Shall I come«
»If you will«
»Very well«
And they turned away At the first stoppingplace they took the car The
wind blew fresh in their faces The town was dark the tram tipped in its haste
He sat with her hand fast in his
»Will your mother be gone to bed« he asked
»She may be I hope not«
They hurried along the silent dark little street the only people out of
doors Clara quickly entered the house He hesitated
He leaped up the step and was in the room Her mother appeared in the inner
doorway large and hostile
»Who have you got there« she asked
»Its Mr Morel he has missed his train I thought we might put him up for
the night and save him a tenmile walk«
»Hm« exclaimed Mrs Radford »Thats your lookout If youve invited him
hes very welcome as far as Im concerned You keep the house«
»If you dont like me Ill go away again« he said
»Nay nay you neednt Come along in I dunno what youll think of the
supper Id got her«
It was a little dish of chip potatoes and a piece of bacon The table was
roughly laid for one
»You can have some more bacon« continued Mrs Radford »More chips you
cant have«
»Its a shame to bother you« he said
»Oh dont you be apologetic It doesnt do wi me You treated her to the
theatre didnt you« There was a sarcasm in the last question
»Well« laughed Paul uncomfortably
»Well and whats an inch of bacon Take your coat off«
The big straightstanding woman was trying to estimate the situation She
moved about the cupboard Clara took his coat The room was very warm and cosy
in the lamplight
»My sirs« exclaimed Mrs Radford »but you twos a pair of bright beauties
I must say Whats all that getup for«
»I believe we dont know« he said feeling a victim
»There isnt room in this house for two such bobbydazzlers if you fly your
kites that high« she rallied them It was a nasty thrust
He in his dinner jacket and Clara in her green dress and bare arms were
confused They felt they must shelter each other in that little kitchen
»And look at that blossom« continued Mrs Radford pointing to Clara »What
does she reckon she did it for«
Paul looked at Clara She was rosy her neck was warm with blushes There
was a moment of silence
»You like to see it dont you« he asked
The mother had them in her power All the time his heart was beating hard
and he was tight with anxiety But he would fight her
»Me like to see it« exclaimed the old woman »What should I like to see her
make a fool of herself for«
»Ive seen people look bigger fools« he said Clara was under his
protection now
»Oh ay and when was that« came the sarcastic rejoinder
»When they made frights of themselves« he answered
Mrs Radford large and threatening stood suspended on the hearthrug
holding her fork
»Theyre fools either road« she answered at length turning to the Dutch
oven
»No« he said fighting stoutly »Folk ought to look as well as they can«
»And do you call that looking nice« cried the mother pointing a scornful
fork at Clara »That that looks as if it wasnt properly dressed«
»I believe youre jealous that you cant swank as well« he said laughing
»Me I could have worn evening dress with anybody if Id wanted to« came
the scornful answer
»And why didnt you want to« he asked pertinently »Or did you wear it«
There was a long pause Mrs Radford readjusted the bacon in the Dutch oven
His heart beat fast for fear he had offended her
»Me« she exclaimed at last »No I didnt And when I was in service I
knew as soon as one of the maids came out in bare shoulders what sort she was
going to her sixpenny hop«
»Were you too good to go to a sixpenny hop« he said
Clara sat with bowed head His eyes were dark and glittering Mrs Radford
took the Dutch oven from the fire and stood near him putting bits of bacon on
his plate
»Theres a nice crozzly bit« she said
»Dont give me the best« he said
»Shes got what she wants« was the answer
There was a sort of scornful forbearance in the womans tone that made Paul
know she was mollified
»But do have some« he said to Clara
She looked up at him with her grey eyes humiliated and lonely
»No thanks« she said
»Why wont you« he answered carelessly
The blood was beating up like fire in his veins Mrs Radford sat down
again large and impressive and aloof He left Clara altogether to attend to the
mother
»They say Sarah Bernhardts fifty« he said
»Fifty Shes turned sixty« came the scornful answer
»Well« he said »youd never think it She made me want to howl even now«
»I should like to see myself howling at that bad old baggage« said Mrs
Radford »Its time she began to think herself a grandmother not a shrieking
catamaran «
He laughed
»A catamaran is a boat the Malays use« he said
»And its a word as I use« she retorted
»My mother does sometimes and its no good my telling her« he said
»I sd think she boxes your ears« said Mrs Radford goodhumouredly
»Shed like to and she says she will so I give her a little stool to stand
on«
»Thats the worst of my mother« said Clara »She never wants a stool for
anything«
»But she often cant touch that lady with a long prop« retorted Mrs
Radford to Paul
»I sd think she doesnt want touching with a prop« he laughed »I
shouldnt«
»It might do the pair of you good to give you a crack on the head with one«
said the mother laughing suddenly
»Why are you so vindictive towards me« he said »Ive not stolen anything
from you«
»No Ill watch that« laughed the older woman
Soon the supper was finished Mrs Radford sat guard in her chair Paul lit
a cigarette Clara went upstairs returning with a sleepingsuit which she
spread on the fender to air
»Why Id forgot all about them« said Mrs Radford »Where have they sprung
from«
»Out of my drawer«
»Hm You bought em for Baxter an he wouldnt wear em would he«
laughing »Said he reckoned to do wiout trousers i bed« She turned
confidentially to Paul saying »He couldnt bear em them pyjama things«
The young man sat making rings of smoke
»Well its everyone to his taste« he laughed
Then followed a little discussion of the merits of pyjamas
»My mother loves me in them« he said »She says Im a pierrot«
»I can imagine theyd suit you« said Mrs Radford
After a while he glanced at the little clock that was ticking on the
mantelpiece It was halfpast twelve
»It is funny« he said »but it takes hours to settle down to sleep after
the theatre«
»Its about time you did« said Mrs Radford clearing the table
»Are you tired« he asked of Clara
»Not the least bit« she answered avoiding his eyes
»Shall we have a game at cribbage« he said
»Ive forgotten it«
»Well Ill teach you again May we play crib Mrs Radford« he asked
»Youll please yourselves« she said »but its pretty late«
»A game or so will make us sleepy« he answered
Clara brought the cards and sat spinning her weddingring whilst he
shuffled them Mrs Radford was washing up in the scullery As it grew later
Paul felt the situation getting more and more tense
»Fifteen two fifteen four fifteen six and twos eight «
The clock struck one Still the game continued Mrs Radford had done all
the little jobs preparatory to going to bed had locked the door and filled the
kettle Still Paul went on dealing and counting He was obsessed by Claras arms
and throat He believed he could see where the division was just beginning for
her breasts He could not leave her She watched his hands and felt her joints
melt as they moved quickly She was so near it was almost as if he touched her
and yet not quite His mettle was roused He hated Mrs Radford She sat on
nearly dropping asleep but determined and obstinate in her chair Paul glanced
at her then at Clara She met his eyes that were angry mocking and hard as
steel Her own answered him in shame He knew she at any rate was of his mind
He played on
At last Mrs Radford roused herself stiffly and said
»Isnt it nigh on time you two was thinking o bed«
Paul played on without answering He hated her sufficiently to murder her
»Half a minute« he said
The elder woman rose and sailed stubbornly into the scullery returning with
his candle which she put on the mantelpiece Then she sat down again The
hatred of her went so hot down his veins he dropped his cards
»Well stop then« he said but his voice was still a challenge
Clara saw his mouth shut hard Again he glanced at her It seemed like an
agreement She bent over the cards coughing to clear her throat
»Well Im glad youve finished« said Mrs Radford »Here take your
things« she thrust the warm suit in his hand »and this is your candle Your
rooms over this theres only two so you cant go far wrong Well goodnight
I hope youll rest well«
»Im sure I shall I always do« he said
»Yes and so you ought at your age« she replied
He bade goodnight to Clara and went The twisting stairs of white
scrubbed wood creaked and clanged at every step He went doggedly The two doors
faced each other He went in his room pushed the door to without fastening the
latch
It was a small room with a large bed Some of Claras hairpins were on the
dressingtable her hairbrush Her clothes and some skirts hung under a cloth
in a corner There was actually a pair of stockings over a chair He explored
the room Two books of his own were there on the shelf He undressed folded his
suit and sat on the bed listening Then he blew out the candle lay down and
in two minutes was almost asleep Then click he was wide awake and writhing
in torment It was as if when he had nearly got to sleep something had bitten
him suddenly and sent him mad He sat up and looked at the room in the darkness
his feet doubled under him perfectly motionless listening He heard a cat
somewhere away outside then the heavy poised tread of the mother then Claras
distinct voice
»Will you unfasten my dress«
There was silence for some time At last the mother said
»Now then arent you coming up«
»No not yet« replied the daughter calmly
»Oh very well then If its not late enough stop a bit longer Only you
neednt come waking me up when Ive got to sleep«
»I shant be long« said Clara
Immediately afterwards Paul heard the mother slowly mounting the stairs The
candlelight flashed through the cracks in his door Her dress brushed the door
and his heart jumped Then it was dark and he heard the clatter of her latch
She was very leisurely indeed in her preparations for sleep After a long time
it was quite still He sat strung up on the bed shivering slightly His door
was an inch open As Clara came upstairs he would intercept her He waited All
was dead silence The clock struck two Then he heard a slight scrape of the
fender downstairs Now he could not help himself His shivering was
uncontrollable He felt he must go or die
He stepped off the bed and stood a moment shuddering Then he went
straight to the door He tried to step lightly The first stair cracked like a
shot He listened The old woman stirred in her bed The staircase was dark
There was a slit of light under the stairfoot door which opened into the
kitchen He stood a moment Then he went on mechanically Every step creaked
and his back was creeping lest the old womans door should open behind him up
above He fumbled with the door at the bottom The latch opened with a loud
clack He went through into the kitchen and shut the door noisily behind him
The old woman darent come now
Then he stood arrested Clara was kneeling on a pile of white underclothing
on the hearthrug her back towards him warming herself She did not look
round but sat crouching on her heels and her rounded beautiful back was
towards him and her face was hidden She was warming her body at the fire for
consolation The glow was rosy on one side the shadow was dark and warm on the
other Her arms hung slack
He shuddered violently clenching his teeth and fists hard to keep control
Then he went forward to her He put one hand on her shoulder the fingers of the
other hand under her chin to raise her face A convulsed shiver ran through her
once twice at his touch She kept her head bent
»Sorry« he murmured realising that his hands were very cold
Then she looked up at him frightened like a thing that is afraid of death
»My hands are so cold« he murmured
»I like it« she whispered closing her eyes
The breath of her words were on his mouth Her arms clasped his knees The
cord of his sleepingsuit dangled against her and made her shiver As the warmth
went into him his shuddering became less
At length unable to stand so any more he raised her and she buried her
head on his shoulder His hands went over her slowly with an infinite tenderness
of caress She clung close to him trying to hide herself against him He
clasped her very fast Then at last she looked at him mute imploring looking
to see if she must be ashamed
His eyes were dark very deep and very quiet It was as if her beauty and
his taking it hurt him made him sorrowful He looked at her with a little pain
and was afraid He was so humble before her She kissed him fervently on the
eyes first one then the other and she folded herself to him She gave
herself He held her fast It was a moment intense almost to agony
She stood letting him adore her and tremble with joy of her It healed her
hurt pride It healed her it made her glad It made her feel erect and proud
again Her pride had been wounded inside her She had been cheapened Now she
radiated with joy and pride again It was her restoration and her recognition
Then he looked at her his face radiant They laughed to each other and he
strained her to his chest The seconds ticked off the minutes passed and still
the two stood clasped rigid together mouth to mouth like a statue in one
block
But again his fingers went seeking over her restless wandering
dissatisfied The hot blood came up wave upon wave She laid her head on his
shoulder
»Come you to my room« he murmured
She looked at him and shook her head her mouth pouting disconsolately her
eyes heavy with passion He watched her fixedly
»Yes« he said
Again she shook her head
»Why not« he asked
She looked at him still heavily sorrowfully and again she shook her head
His eyes hardened and he gave way
When later on he was back in bed he wondered why she had refused to come
to him openly so that her mother would know At any rate then things would
have been definite And she could have stayed with him the night without having
to go as she was to her mothers bed It was strange and he could not
understand it And then almost immediately he fell asleep
He awoke in the morning with someone speaking to him Opening his eyes he
saw Mrs Radford big and stately looking down on him She held a cup of tea in
her hand
»Do you think youre going to sleep till Doomsday« she said
He laughed at once
»It ought only to be about five oclock« he said
»Well« she answered »its halfpast seven whether or not Here Ive
brought you a cup of tea«
He rubbed his face pushed the tumbled hair off his forehead and roused
himself
»Whats it so late for« he grumbled
He resented being wakened It amused her She saw his neck in the flannel
sleepingjacket as white and round as a girls He rubbed his hair crossly
»Its no good your scratching your head« she said »It wont make it no
earlier Here an how long dyou think Im going to stand waiting wi this here
cup«
»Oh dash the cup« he said
»You should go to bed earlier« said the woman
He looked up at her laughing with impudence
»I went to bed before you did« he said
»Yes my Guyney you did« she exclaimed
»Fancy« he said stirring his tea »having tea brought to bed to me My
motherll think Im ruined for life«
»Dont she never do it« asked Mrs Radford
»Shed as leave think of flying«
»Ah I always spoilt my lot Thats why theyve turned out such bad uns«
said the elderly woman
»Youd only Clara« he said »And Mr Radfords in heaven So I suppose
theres only you left to be the bad un«
»Im not bad Im only soft« she said as she went out of the bedroom »Im
only a fool I am«
Clara was very quiet at breakfast but she had a sort of air of
proprietorship over him that pleased him infinitely Mrs Radford was evidently
fond of him He began to talk of his painting
»Whats the good« exclaimed the mother »of your whittling and worrying and
twistin and tooin at that painting of yours What good does it do you I
should like to know Youd better be enjoyin yourself«
»Oh but« exclaimed Paul »I made over thirty guineas last year«
»Did you Well thats a consideration but its nothing to the time you put
in«
»And Ive got four pounds owing A man said hed give me five pounds if Id
paint him and his missis and the dog and the cottage And I went and put the
fowls in instead of the dog and he was waxy so I had to knock a quid off I
was sick of it and I didnt like the dog I made a picture of it What shall I
do when he pays me the four pounds«
»Nay you know your own uses for your money« said Mrs Radford
»But Im going to bust this four pounds Should we go to the seaside for a
day or two«
»Who«
»You and Clara and me«
»What on your money« she exclaimed halfwrathful
»Why not«
»You wouldnt be long in breaking your neck at a hurdle race« she said
»So long as I get a good run for my money Will you«
»Nay you may settle that atween you«
»And youre willing« he asked amazed and rejoicing
»Youll do as you like« said Mrs Radford »whether Im willing or not«
Chapter XIII
Baxter Dawes
Soon after Paul had been to the theatre with Clara he was drinking in the Punch
Bowl with some friends of his when Dawes came in Claras husband was growing
stout his eyelids were getting slack over his brown eyes he was losing his
healthy firmness of flesh He was very evidently on the downward track Having
quarrelled with his sister he had gone into cheap lodgings His mistress had
left him for a man who would marry her He had been in prison one night for
fighting when he was drunk and there was a shady betting episode in which he
was concerned
Paul and he were confirmed enemies and yet there was between them that
peculiar feeling of intimacy as if they were secretly near to each other which
sometimes exists between two people although they never speak to one another.
Paul often thought of Baxter Dawes often wanted to get at him and be friends
with him He knew that Dawes often thought about him and that the man was drawn
to him by some bond or other And yet the two never looked at each other save in
hostility
Since he was a superior employee at Jordans it was the thing for Paul to
offer Dawes a drink
»Whatll you have« he asked of him
»Nowt wi a bleeder like you« replied the man
Paul turned away with a slight disdainful movement of the shoulders very
irritating
»The aristocracy« he continued »is really a military institution Take
Germany now Shes got thousands of aristocrats whose only means of existence
is the army Theyre deadly poor and lifes deadly slow So they hope for a
war They look for war as a chance of getting on Till theres a war they are
idle goodfornothings When theres a war they are leaders and commanders
There you are then they want war«
He was not a favourite debater in the publichouse being too quick and
overbearing He irritated the older men by his assertive manner and his
cocksureness They listened in silence and were not sorry when he finished
Dawes interrupted the young mans flow of eloquence by asking in a loud
sneer
»Did you learn all that at th theatre th other night«
Paul looked at him their eyes met Then he knew Dawes had seen him coming
out of the theatre with Clara
»Why what about th theatre« asked one of Pauls associates glad to get a
dig at the young fellow and sniffing something tasty
»Oh him in a bobtailed evening suit on the lardyda« sneered Dawes
jerking his head contemptuously at Paul
»Thats comin it strong« said the mutual friend »Tart an all«
»Tart begod« said Dawes
»Go on lets have it« cried the mutual friend
»Youve got it« said Dawes »an I reckon Morelly had it an all«
»Well Ill be jiggered« said the mutual friend »An was it a proper
tart«
»Tart God blimey yes«
»How do you know«
»Oh« said Dawes »I reckon he spent th night «
There was a good deal of laughter at Pauls expense
»But who was she Dyou know her« asked the mutual friend
»I should shay sho« said Dawes
This brought another burst of laughter
»Then spit it out« said the mutual friend
Dawes shook his head and took a gulp of beer
»Its a wonder he hasnt let on himself« he said »Hell be braggin of it
in a bit«
»Come on Paul« said the friend »its no good You might just as well own
up«
»Own up what That I happened to take a friend to the theatre«
»Oh well if it was all right tell us who she was lad« said the friend
»She was all right« said Dawes
Paul was furious Dawes wiped his golden moustache with his fingers
sneering
»Strike me One o that sort« said the mutual friend »Paul boy Im
surprised at you And do you know her Baxter«
»Just a bit like«
He winked at the other men
»Oh well« said Paul »Ill be going«
The mutual friend laid a detaining hand on his shoulder
»Nay« he said »you dont get off as easy as that my lad Weve got to
have a full account of this business«
»Then get it from Dawes« he said
»You shouldnt funk your own deeds man« remonstrated the friend
Then Dawes made a remark which caused Paul to throw half a glass of beer in
his face
»Oh Mr Morel« cried the barmaid and she rang the bell for the
chuckerout
Dawes spat and rushed for the young man At that minute a brawny fellow with
his shirtsleeves rolled up and his trousers tight over his haunches intervened
»Now then« he said pushing his chest in front of Dawes
»Come out« cried Dawes
Paul was leaning white and quivering against the brass rail of the bar He
hated Dawes wished something could exterminate him at that minute and at the
same time seeing the wet hair on the mans forehead he thought he looked
pathetic He did not move
»Come out you « said Dawes
»Thats enough Dawes« cried the barmaid
»Come on« said the »chuckerout« with kindly insistence »youd better be
getting on«
And by making Dawes edge away from his own close proximity he worked him
to the door
»Thats the little sod as started it« cried Dawes halfcowed pointing to
Paul Morel
»Why what a story Mr Dawes« said the barmaid »You know it was you all
the time«
Still the chuckerout kept thrusting his chest forward at him still he kept
edging back until he was in the doorway and on the steps outside then he
turned round
»All right« he said nodding straight at his rival
Paul had a curious sensation of pity almost of affection mingled with
violent hate for the man The coloured door swung to there was silence in the
bar
»Serve him jolly well right« said the barmaid
»But its a nasty thing to get a glass of beer in your eyes« said the
mutual friend
»I tell you I was glad he did« said the barmaid »Will you have another
Mr Morel«
She held up Pauls glass questioningly He nodded
»Hes a man as doesnt care for anything is Baxter Dawes« said one
»Pooh is he« said the barmaid »Hes a loudmouthed one he is and
theyre never much good Give me a pleasantspoken chap if you want a devil«
»Well Paul my lad« said the friend »youll have to take care of yourself
now for a while«
»You wont have to give him a chance over you thats all« said the
barmaid
»Can you box« asked a friend
»Not a bit« he answered still very white
»I might give you a turn or two« said the friend
»Thanks I havent time«
And presently he took his departure
»Go along with him Mr Jenkinson« whispered the barmaid tipping Mr
Jenkinson the wink
The man nodded took his hat said »Goodnight all« very heartily and
followed Paul calling
»Half a minute old man You an mes going the same road I believe«
»Mr Morel doesnt like it« said the barmaid »Youll see we shant have
him in much more Im sorry hes good company And Baxter Dawes wants locking
up thats what he wants«
Paul would have died rather than his mother should get to know of this
affair He suffered tortures of humiliation and selfconsciousness There was
now a good deal of his life of which necessarily he could not speak to his
mother He had a life apart from her his sexual life The rest she still kept
But he felt he had to conceal something from her and it irked him There was a
certain silence between them and he felt he had in that silence to defend
himself against her he felt condemned by her Then sometimes he hated her and
pulled at her bondage His life wanted to free itself of her It was like a
circle where life turned back on itself, and got no farther She bore him loved
him kept him and his love turned back into her so that he could not be free
to go forward with his own life really love another woman At this period
unknowingly he resisted his mothers influence He did not tell her things
there was a distance between them
Clara was happy almost sure of him She felt she had at last got him for
herself and then again came the uncertainty He told her jestingly of the
affair with her husband Her colour came up her grey eyes flashed
»Thats him to a T« she cried »like a navvy Hes not fit for mixing with
decent folk«
»Yet you married him« he said
It made her furious that he reminded her
»I did« she cried »But how was I to know«
»I think he might have been rather nice« he said
»You think I made him what he is« she exclaimed
»Oh no he made himself But theres something about him «
Clara looked at her lover closely There was something in him she hated a
sort of detached criticism of herself a cold ness which made her womans soul
harden against him
»And what are you going to do« she asked
»How«
»About Baxter«
»Theres nothing to do is there« he replied
»You can fight him if you have to I suppose« she said
»No I havent the least sense of the fist Its funny With most men
theres the instinct to clench the fist and hit Its not so with me I should
want a knife or a pistol or something to fight with«
»Then youd better carry something« she said
»Nay« he laughed »Im not daggeroso«
»But hell do something to you You dont know him«
»All right« he said »well see«
»And youll let him«
»Perhaps if I cant help it«
»And if he kills you« she said
»I should be sorry for his sake and mine«
Clara was silent for a moment
»You do make me angry« she exclaimed
»Thats nothing afresh« he laughed
»But why are you so silly You dont know him«
»And dont want«
»Yes but youre not going to let a man do as he likes with you«
»What must I do« he replied laughing
»I should carry a revolver« she said »Im sure hes dangerous«
»I might blow my fingers off« he said
»No but wont you« she pleaded
»No«
»Not anything«
»No«
»And youll leave him to «
»Yes«
»You are a fool«
»Fact«
She set her teeth with anger
»I could shake you« she cried trembling with passion
»Why«
»Let a man like him do as he likes with you«
»You can go back to him if he triumphs« he said
»Do you want me to hate you« she asked
»Well I only tell you« he said
»And you say you love me« she exclaimed low and indignant
»Ought I to slay him to please you« he said »But if I did see what a hold
hed have over me«
»Do you think Im a fool« she exclaimed
»Not at all But you dont understand me my dear«
There was a pause between them
»But you ought not to expose yourself« she pleaded
He shrugged his shoulders
»The man in righteousness arrayed
The pure and blameless liver
Needs not the keen Toledo blade
Nor venomfreighted quiver«
he quoted
She looked at him searchingly
»I wish I could understand you« she said
»Theres simply nothing to understand« he laughed
She bowed her head brooding
He did not see Dawes for several days then one morning as he ran upstairs
from the Spiral room he almost collided with the burly metalworker
»What the « cried the smith
»Sorry« said Paul and passed on
»Sorry« sneered Dawes
Paul whistled lightly »Put Me among the Girls«
»Ill stop your whistle my jockey« he said
The other took no notice
»Youre goin to answer for that job of the other night«
Paul went to his desk in his corner and turned over the leaves of the
ledger
»Go and tell Fanny I want order 097 quick« he said to his boy
Dawes stood in the doorway tall and threatening looking at the top of the
young mans head
»Six and fives eleven and sevens oneandsix« Paul added aloud
»An you hear do you« said Dawes
»Five and ninepence« He wrote a figure »Whats that« he said
»Im going to show you what it is« said the smith
The other went on adding the figures aloud
»Yer crawlin little yer daresnt face me proper«
Paul quickly snatched the heavy ruler Dawes started The young man ruled
some lines in his ledger The elder man was infuriated
»But wait till I light on you no matter where it is Ill settle your hash
for a bit yer little swine«
»All right« said Paul
At that the smith started heavily from the doorway Just then a whistle
piped shrilly Paul went to the speakingtube
»Yes« he said and he listened »Er yes« He listened then he laughed
»Ill come down directly Ive got a visitor just now«
Dawes knew from his tone that he had been speaking to Clara He stepped
forward
»Yer little devil« he said »Ill visitor you inside of two minutes Think
Im goin to have you whippertysnappin round«
The other clerks in the warehouse looked up Pauls officeboy appeared
holding some white article
»Fanny says you could have had it last night if youd let her know« he
said
»All right« answered Paul looking at the stocking »Get it off«
Dawes stood frustrated helpless with rage Morel turned round
»Excuse me a minute« he said to Dawes and he would have run downstairs
»By God Ill stop your gallop« shouted the smith seizing him by the arm
He turned quickly
»Hey Hey« cried the officeboy alarmed
Thomas Jordan started out of his little glass office and came running down
the room
»Whats amatter whats amatter« he said in his old mans sharp voice
»Im just goin ter settle this little thats all« said Dawes
desperately
»What do you mean« snapped Thomas Jordan
»What I say« said Dawes but he hung fire
Morel was leaning against the counter ashamed halfgrinning
»Whats it all about« snapped Thomas Jordan
»Couldnt say« said Paul shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders
»Couldnt yer couldnt yer« cried Dawes thrusting forward his handsome
furious face and squaring his fist
»Have you finished« cried the old man strutting »Get off about your
business and dont come here tipsy in the morning«
Dawes turned his big frame slowly upon him
»Tipsy« he said »Whos tipsy Im no more tipsy than you are«
»Weve heard that song before« snapped the old man »Now you get off and
dont be long about it Comin here with your rowdying«
The smith looked down contemptuously on his employer His hands large and
grimy and yet well shaped for his labour worked restlessly Paul remembered
they were the hands of Claras husband and a flash of hate went through him
»Get out before youre turned out« snapped Thomas Jordan
»Why wholl turn me out« said Dawes beginning to sneer
Mr Jordan started marched up to the smith waving him off thrusting his
stout little figure at the man saying
»Get off my premises get off«
He seized and twitched Dawess arm
»Come off« said the smith and with a jerk of the elbow he sent the little
manufacturer staggering backwards
Before anyone could help him Thomas Jordan had collided with the flimsy
springdoor It had given way and let him crash down the halfdozen steps into
Fannys room There was a second of amazement then men and girls were running
Dawes stood a moment looking bitterly on the scene then he took his departure
Thomas Jordan was shaken and bruised not otherwise hurt He was however
beside himself with rage He dismissed Dawes from his employment and summoned
him for assault
At the trial Paul Morel had to give evidence Asked how the trouble began
he said
»Dawes took occasion to insult Mrs Dawes and me because I accompanied her
to the theatre one evening then I threw some beer at him and he wanted his
revenge«
»Cherchez la femme« smiled the magistrate
The case was dismissed after the magistrate had told Dawes he thought him a
skunk
»You gave the case away« snapped Mr Jordan to Paul
»I dont think I did« replied the latter »Besides you didnt really want
a conviction did you«
»What do you think I took the case up for«
»Well« said Paul »Im sorry if I said the wrong thing« Clara was also
very angry
»Why need my name have been dragged in« she said
»Better speak it openly than leave it to be whispered«
»There was no need for anything at all« she declared
»We are none the poorer« he said indifferently
»You may not be« she said
»And you« he asked
»I need never have been mentioned«
»Im sorry« he said but he did not sound sorry
He told himself easily »She will come round« And she did
He told his mother about the fall of Mr Jordan and the trial of Dawes Mrs
Morel watched him closely
»And what do you think of it all« she asked him
»I think hes a fool« he said
But he was very uncomfortable nevertheless
»Have you ever considered where it will end« his mother said
»No« he answered »things work out of themselves«
»They do in a way one doesnt like as a rule« said his mother
»And then one has to put up with them« he said
»Youll find youre not as good at putting up as you imagine« she said
He went on working rapidly at his design
»Do you ever ask her opinion« she said at length
»What of«
»Of you and the whole thing«
»I dont care what her opinion of me is Shes fearfully in love with me
but its not very deep«
»But quite as deep as your feeling for her«
He looked up at his mother curiously
»Yes« he said »You know mother I think there must be something the
matter with me that I cant love When shes there as a rule I do love her
Sometimes when I see her just as the woman I love her mother but then when
she talks and criticises I often dont listen to her«
»Yet shes as much sense as Miriam«
»Perhaps and I love her better than Miriam But why dont they hold me«
The last question was almost a lamentation His mother turned away her face
sat looking across the room very quiet grave with something of renunciation
»But you wouldnt want to marry Clara« she said
»No at first perhaps I would But why why dont I want to marry her or
anybody I feel sometimes as if I wronged my women mother«
»How wronged them my son«
»I dont know«
He went on painting rather despairingly he had touched the quick of the
trouble
»And as for wanting to marry« said his mother »theres plenty of time
yet«
»But no mother I even love Clara and I did Miriam but to give myself to
them in marriage I couldnt I couldnt belong to them They seem to want me
and I cant ever give it them«
»You havent met the right woman«
»And I never shall meet the right woman while you live« he said
She was very quiet Now she began to feel again tired as if she were done
»Well see my son« she answered
The feeling that things were going in a circle made him mad
Clara was indeed passionately in love with him and he with her as far as
passion went In the daytime he forgot her a good deal She was working in the
same building but he was not aware of it He was busy and her existence was of
no matter to him But all the time she was in her Spiral room she had a sense
that he was upstairs a physical sense of his person in the same building Every
second she expected him to come through the door and when he came it was a
shock to her But he was often short and offhand with her He gave her his
directions in an official manner keeping her at bay With what wits she had
left she listened to him She dared not misunderstand or fail to remember but
it was a cruelty to her She wanted to touch his chest She knew exactly how his
breast was shapen under the waistcoat and she wanted to touch it It maddened
her to hear his mechanical voice giving orders about the work She wanted to
break through the sham of it smash the trivial coating of business which
covered him with hardness get at the man again but she was afraid and before
she could feel one touch of his warmth he was gone and she ached again
He knew that she was dreary every evening she did not see him so he gave
her a good deal of his time The days were often a misery to her but the
evenings and the nights were usually a bliss to them both Then they were
silent For hours they sat together or walked together in the dark and talked
only a few almost meaningless words But he had her hand in his and her bosom
left its warmth in his chest making him feel whole
One evening they were walking down by the canal and something was troubling
him She knew she had not got him All the time he whistled softly and
persistently to himself She listened feeling she could learn more from his
whistling than from his speech It was a sad dissatisfied tune a tune that
made her feel he would not stay with her She walked on in silence When they
came to the swing bridge he sat down on the great pole looking at the stars in
the water He was a long way from her She had been thinking
»Will you always stay at Jordans« she asked
»No« he answered without reflecting »No I sll leave Nottingham and go
abroad soon«
»Go abroad What for«
»I dunno I feel restless«
»But what shall you do«
»I shall have to get some steady designing work and some sort of sale for
my pictures first« he said »I am gradually making my way I know I am«
»And when do you think youll go«
»I dont know I shall hardly go for long while theres my mother«
»You couldnt leave her«
»Not for long«
She looked at the stars in the black water They lay very white and staring
It was an agony to know he would leave her but it was almost an agony to have
him near her
»And if you made a nice lot of money what would you do« she asked
»Go somewhere in a pretty house near London with my mother«
»I see«
There was a long pause
»I could still come and see you« he said »I dont know Dont ask me what
I should do I dont know«
There was a silence The stars shuddered and broke upon the water There
came a breath of wind He went suddenly to her and put his hand on her
shoulder
»Dont ask me anything about the future« he said miserably »I dont know
anything Be with me now will you no matter what it is«
And she took him in her arms After all she was a married woman and she
had no right even to what he gave her He needed her badly She had him in her
arms and he was miserable With her warmth she folded him over consoled him
loved him She would let the moment stand for itself.
After a moment he lifted his head as if he wanted to speak
»Clara« he said struggling
She caught him passionately to her pressed his head down on her breast with
her hand She could not bear the suffering in his voice She was afraid in her
soul He might have anything of her anything but she did not want to know
She felt she could not bear it She wanted him to be soothed upon her soothed
She stood clasping him and caressing him and he was something unknown to her
something almost uncanny She wanted to soothe him into forgetfulness
And soon the struggle went down in his soul and he forgot But then Clara
was not there for him only a woman warm something he loved and almost
worshipped there in the dark But it was not Clara and she submitted to him
The naked hunger and inevitability of his loving her something strong and blind
and ruthless in its primitiveness made the hour almost terrible to her She
knew how stark and alone he was and she felt it was great that he came to her
and she took him simply because his need was bigger either than her or him and
her soul was still within her She did this for him in his need even if he left
her for she loved him
All the while the peewits were screaming in the field When he came to he
wondered what was near his eyes curving and strong with life in the dark and
what voice it was speaking Then he realised it was the grass and the peewit
was calling The warmth was Claras breathing heaving He lifted his head and
looked into her eyes They were dark and shining and strange life wild at the
source staring into his life stranger to him yet meeting him and he put his
face down on her throat afraid What was she A strong strange wild life
that breathed with his in the darkness through this hour It was all so much
bigger than themselves that he was hushed They had met and included in their
meeting the thrust of the manifold grass stems the cry of the peewit the wheel
of the stars
When they stood up they saw other lovers stealing down the opposite hedge
It seemed natural they were there the night contained them
And after such an evening they both were very still having known the
immensity of passion They felt small halfafraid childish and wondering like
Adam and Eve when they lost their innocence and realised the magnificence of the
power which drove them out of Paradise and across the great night and the great
day of humanity It was for each of them an initiation and a satisfaction To
know their own nothingness to know the tremendous living flood which carried
them always gave them rest within themselves If so great a magnificent power
could overwhelm them identify them altogether with itself, so that they knew
they were only grains in the tremendous heave that lifted every grass blade its
little height and every tree and living thing then why fret about themselves
They could let themselves be carried by life and they felt a sort of peace each
in the other There was a verification which they had had together Nothing
could nullify it nothing could take it away it was almost their belief in
life
But Clara was not satisfied Something great was there she knew something
great enveloped her But it did not keep her In the morning it was not the
same They had known but she could not keep the moment She wanted it again
she wanted something permanent She had not realised fully She thought it was
he whom she wanted He was not safe to her This that had been between them
might never be again he might leave her She had not got him she was not
satisfied She had been there but she had not gripped the the something she
knew not what which she was mad to have
In the morning he had considerable peace and was happy in himself It
seemed almost as if he had known the baptism of fire in passion and it left him
at rest But it was not Clara It was something that happened because of her
but it was not her They were scarcely any nearer each other It was as if they
had been blind agents of a great force
When she saw him that day at the factory her heart melted like a drop of
fire It was his body his brows The drop of fire grew more intense in her
breast she must hold him But he very quiet very subdued this morning went
on giving his instruction She followed him into the dark ugly basement and
lifted her arms to him He kissed her and the intensity of passion began to
burn him again Somebody was at the door He ran upstairs she returned to her
room moving as if in a trance
After that the fire slowly went down He felt more and more that his
experience had been impersonal and not Clara He loved her There was a big
tenderness as after a strong emotion they had known together but it was not
she who could keep his soul steady He had wanted her to be something she could
not be
And she was mad with desire of him She could not see him without touching
him In the factory as he talked to her about Spiral hose she ran her hand
secretly along his side She followed him out into the basement for a quick
kiss her eyes always mute and yearning full of unrestrained passion she kept
fixed on his He was afraid of her lest she should too flagrantly give herself
away before the other girls She invariably waited for him at dinnertime for
him to embrace her before she went He felt as if she were helpless almost a
burden to him and it irritated him
»But what do you always want to be kissing and embracing for« he said
»Surely theres a time for everything«
She looked up at him and the hate came into her eyes
»Do I always want to be kissing you« she said
»Always even if I come to ask you about the work I dont want anything to
do with love when Im at work Works work «
»And what is love« she asked »Has it to have special hours«
»Yes out of work hours«
»And youll regulate it according to Mr Jordans closing time«
»Yes and according to the freedom from business of any sort«
»It is only to exist in spare time«
»Thats all and not always then not the kissing sort of love«
»And thats all you think of it«
»Its quite enough«
»Im glad you think so«
And she was cold to him for some time she hated him and while she was
cold and contemptuous he was uneasy till she had forgiven him again But when
they started afresh they were not any nearer He kept her because he never
satisfied her
In the spring they went together to the seaside They had rooms at a little
cottage near Theddlethorpe and lived as man and wife Mrs Radford sometimes
went with them
It was known in Nottingham that Paul Morel and Mrs Dawes were going
together but as nothing was very obvious and Clara always a solitary person
and he seemed so simple and innocent it did not make much difference
He loved the Lincolnshire coast and she loved the sea In the early morning
they often went out together to bathe The grey of the dawn the far desolate
reaches of the fenland smitten with winter the seameadows rank with herbage
were stark enough to rejoice his soul As they stepped on to the highroad from
their plank bridge and looked round at the endless monotony of levels the land
a little darker than the sky the sea sounding small beyond the sandhills his
heart filled strong with the sweeping relentlessness of life She loved him
then He was solitary and strong and his eyes had a beautiful light
They shuddered with cold then he raced her down the road to the green turf
bridge She could run well Her colour soon came her throat was bare her eyes
shone He loved her for being so luxuriously heavy and yet so quick Himself
was light she went with a beautiful rush They grew warm and walked hand in
hand
A flush came into the sky the wan moon halfway down the west sank into
insignificance On the shadowy land things began to take life plants with great
leaves became distinct They came through a pass in the big cold sandhills on
to the beach The long waste of foreshore lay moaning under the dawn and the
sea the ocean was a flat dark strip with a white edge Over the gloomy sea the
sky grew red Quickly the fire spread among the clouds and scattered them
Crimson burned to orange orange to dull gold and in a golden glitter the sun
came up dribbling fierily over the waves in little splashes as if someone had
gone along and the light had spilled from her pail as she walked
The breakers ran down the shore in long hoarse strokes Tiny seagulls like
specks of spray wheeled above the line of surf Their crying seemed larger than
they Far away the coast reached out and melted into the morning the tussocky
sandhills seemed to sink to a level with the beach Mablethorpe was tiny on
their right They had alone the space of all this level shore the sea and the
upcoming sun the faint noise of the waters the sharp crying of the gulls
They had a warm hollow in the sandhills where the wind did not come He
stood looking out to sea
»Its very fine« he said
»Now dont get sentimental« she said
It irritated her to see him standing gazing at the sea like a solitary and
poetic person He laughed She quickly undressed
»There are some fine waves this morning« she said triumphantly
She was a better swimmer than he he stood idly watching her
»Arent you coming« she said
»In a minute« he answered
She was white and velvet skinned with heavy shoulders A little wind
coming from the sea blew across her body and ruffled her hair
The morning was of a lovely limpid gold colour Veils of shadow seemed to be
drifting away on the north and the south Clara stood shrinking slightly from
the touch of the wind twisting her hair The seagrass rose behind the white
stripped woman She glanced at the sea then looked at him He was watching her
with dark eyes which she loved and could not understand She hugged her breasts
between her arms cringing laughing
»Oo it will be so cold« she said
He bent forward and kissed her held her suddenly close and kissed her
again She stood waiting He looked into her eyes then away at the pale sands
»Go then« he said quietly
She flung her arms round his neck drew him against her kissed him
passionately and went saying
»But youll come in«
»In a minute«
She went plodding heavily over the sand that was soft as velvet He on the
sandhills watched the great pale coast envelop her She grew smaller lost
proportion seemed only like a large white bird toiling forward
»Not much more than a big white pebble on the beach not much more than a
clot of foam being blown and rolled over the sand« he said to himself
She seemed to move very slowly across the vast sounding shore As he
watched he lost her She was dazzled out of sight by the sunshine Again he saw
her the merest white speck moving against the white muttering seaedge
»Look how little she is« he said to himself »Shes lost like a grain of
sand in the beach just a concentrated speck blown along a tiny white
foambubble almost nothing among the morning Why does she absorb me«
The morning was altogether uninterrupted she was gone in the water Far and
wide the beach the sandhills with their blue marrain the shining water glowed
together in immense unbroken solitude
»What is she after all« he said to himself »Heres the seacoast morning
big and permanent and beautiful there is she fretting always unsatisfied and
temporary as a bubble of foam What does she mean to me after all She
represents something like a bubble of foam represents the sea But what is she
Its not her I care for«
Then startled by his own unconscious thoughts that seemed to speak so
distinctly that all the morning could hear he undressed and ran quickly down
the sands She was watching for him Her arm flashed up to him she heaved on a
wave subsided her shoulders in a pool of liquid silver He jumped through the
breakers and in a moment her hand was on his shoulder
He was a poor swimmer and could not stay long in the water She played
round him in triumph sporting with her superiority which he begrudged her The
sunshine stood deep and fine on the water They laughed in the sea for a minute
or two then raced each other back to the sandhills
When they were drying themselves panting heavily he watched her laughing
breathless face her bright shoulders her breasts that swayed and made him
frightened as she rubbed them and he thought again
»But she is magnificent and even bigger than the morning and the sea Is
she Is she «
She seeing his dark eyes fixed on her broke off from her drying with a
laugh
»What are you looking at« she said
»You« he answered laughing
Her eyes met his and in a moment he was kissing her white goosefleshed
shoulder and thinking
»What is she What is she«
She loved him in the morning There was something detached hard and
elemental about his kisses then as if he were only conscious of his own will
not in the least of her and her wanting him
Later in the day he went out sketching
»You« he said to her »go with your mother to Sutton I am so dull«
She stood and looked at him He knew she wanted to come with him but he
preferred to be alone She made him feel imprisoned when she was there as if he
could not get a free deep breath as if there were something on top of him She
felt his desire to be free of her
In the evening he came back to her They walked down the shore in the
darkness then sat for awhile in the shelter of the sandhills
»It seems« she said as they stared over the darkness of the sea where no
light was to be seen »it seemed as if you only loved me at night as if you
didnt love me in the daytime«
He ran the cold sand through his fingers feeling guilty under the
accusation
»The night is free to you« he replied »In the daytime I want to be by
myself«
»But why« she said »Why even now when we are on this short holiday«
»I dont know Lovemaking stifles me in the daytime«
»But it neednt be always lovemaking« she said
»It always is« he answered »when you and I are together«
She sat feeling very bitter
»Do you ever want to marry me« he asked curiously
»Do you me« she replied
»Yes yes I should like us to have children« he answered slowly
She sat with her head bent fingering the sand
»But you dont really want a divorce from Baxter do you« he said
It was some minute before she replied
»No« she said very deliberately »I dont think I do«
»Why«
»I dont know«
»Do you feel as if you belonged to him«
»No I dont think so«
»What then«
»I think he belongs to me« she replied
He was silent for some minutes listening to the wind blowing over the
hoarse dark sea
»And you never really intended to belong to me« he said
»Yes I do belong to you« she answered
»No« he said »because you dont want to be divorced«
It was a knot they could not untie so they left it took what they could
get and what they could not attain they ignored
»I consider you treated Baxter rottenly« he said another time
He halfexpected Clara to answer him as his mother would »You consider
your own affairs and dont know so much about other peoples« But she took him
seriously almost to his own surprise
»Why« she said
»I suppose you thought he was a lily of the valley and so you put him in an
appropriate pot and tended him according You made up your mind he was a lily
of the valley and it was no good his being a cowparsnip You wouldnt have it«
»I certainly never imagined him a lily of the valley«
»You imagined him something he wasnt Thats just what a woman is She
thinks she knows whats good for a man and shes going to see he gets it and
no matter if hes starving he may sit and whistle for what he needs while
shes got him and is giving him whats good for him«
»And what are you doing« she asked
»Im thinking what tune I shall whistle« he laughed
And instead of boxing his ears she considered him in earnest
»You think I want to give you whats good for you« she asked
»I hope so but love should give a sense of freedom not of prison Miriam
made me feel tied up like a donkey to a stake I must feed on her patch and
nowhere else Its sickening«
»And would you let a woman do as she likes«
»Yes Ill see that she likes to love me If she doesnt well I dont
hold her«
»If you were as wonderful as you say « replied Clara
»I should be the marvel I am« he laughed
There was a silence in which they hated each other though they laughed
»Loves a dog in a manger« he said
»And which of us is the dog« she asked
»Oh well you of course«
So there went on a battle between them She knew she never fully had him
Some part big and vital in him she had no hold over nor did she ever try to
get it or even to realise what it was And he knew in some way that she held
herself still as Mrs Dawes She did not love Dawes never had loved him but
she believed he loved her at least depended on her She felt a certain surety
about him that she never felt with Paul Morel Her passion for the young man had
filled her soul given her a certain satisfaction eased her of her
selfmistrust her doubt Whatever else she was she was inwardly assured It
was almost as if she had gained herself and stood now distinct and complete
She had received her confirmation but she never believed that her life belonged
to Paul Morel nor his to her They would separate in the end and the rest of
her life would be an ache after him But at any rate she knew now she was sure
of herself And the same could almost be said of him Together they had received
the baptism of life each through the other but now their missions were
separate Where he wanted to go she could not come with him They would have to
part sooner or later Even if they married and were faithful to each other
still he would have to leave her go on alone and she would only have to attend
to him when he came home But it was not possible Each wanted a mate to go side
by side with
Clara had gone to live with her mother upon Mapperley Plains One evening
as Paul and she were walking along Woodborough Road they met Dawes Morel knew
something about the bearing of the man approaching but he was absorbed in his
thinking at the moment so that only his artists eye watched the form of the
stranger Then he suddenly turned to Clara with a laugh and put his hand on her
shoulder saying laughing
»But we walk side by side and yet Im in London arguing with an imaginary
Orpen and where are you«
At that instant Dawes passed almost touching Morel The young man glanced
saw the dark brown eyes burning full of hate and yet tired
»Who was that« he asked of Clara
»It was Baxter« she replied
Paul took his hand from her shoulder and glanced round then he saw again
distinctly the mans form as it approached him Dawes still walked erect with
his fine shoulders flung back and his face lifted but there was a furtive look
in his eyes that gave one the impression he was trying to get unnoticed past
every person he met glancing suspiciously to see what they thought of him And
his hands seemed to be wanting to hide He wore old clothes the trousers were
torn at the knee and the handkerchief tied round his throat was dirty but his
cap was still defiantly over one eye As she saw him Clara felt guilty There
was a tiredness and despair on his face that made her hate him because it hurt
her
»He looks shady« said Paul
But the note of pity in his voice reproached her and made her feel hard
»His true commonness comes out« she answered
»Do you hate him« he asked
»You talk« she said »about the cruelty of women I wish you knew the
cruelty of men in their brute force They simply dont know that the woman
exists«
»Dont I« he said
»No« she answered
»Dont I know you exist«
»About me you know nothing« she said bitterly »about me«
»No more than Baxter knew« he asked
»Perhaps not as much«
He felt puzzled and helpless and angry There she walked unknown to him
though they had been through such experience together
»But you know me pretty well« he said
She did not answer
»Did you know Baxter as well as you know me« he asked
»He wouldnt let me« she said
»And I have let you know me«
»Its what men wont let you do They wont let you get really near to
them« she said
»And havent I let you«
»Yes« she answered slowly »but youve never come near to me You cant
come out of yourself you cant Baxter could do that better than you«
He walked on pondering He was angry with her for prefering Baxter to him
»You begin to value Baxter now youve not got him« he said
»No I can only see where he was different from you«
But he felt she had a grudge against him
One evening as they were coming home over the fields she startled him by
asking
»Do you think its worth it the the sex part«
»The act of loving itself«
»Yes is it worth anything to you«
»But how can you separate it« he said »Its the culmination of everything
All our intimacy culminates then«
»Not for me« she said
He was silent A flash of hate for her came up After all she was
dissatisfied with him even there where he thought they fulfilled each other
But he believed her too implicitly
»I feel« she continued slowly »as if I hadnt got you as if all of you
werent there and as if it werent me you were taking «
»Who then«
»Something just for yourself It has been fine so that I darent think of
it But is it me you want or is it It«
He again felt guilty Did he leave Clara out of count and take simply
women But he thought that was splitting a hair
»When I had Baxter actually had him then I did feel as if I had all of
him« she said
»And it was better« he asked
»Yes yes it was more whole I dont say you havent given me more than he
ever gave me«
»Or could give you«
»Yes perhaps but youve never given me yourself«
He knitted his brows angrily
»If I start to make love to you« he said »I just go like a leaf down the
wind«
»And leave me out of count« she said
»And then is it nothing to you« he asked almost rigid with chagrin
»Its something and sometimes you have carried me away right away I
know and I reverence you for it but «
»Dont but me« he said kissing her quickly as a fire ran through him
She submitted and was silent
It was true as he said As a rule when he started lovemaking the emotion
was strong enough to carry with it everything reason soul blood in a great
sweep like the Trent carries bodily its backswirls and intertwinings
noiselessly Gradually the little criticisms the little sensations were lost
thought also went everything borne along in one flood He became not a man
with a mind but a great instinct His hands were like creatures living his
limbs his body were all life and consciousness subject to no will of his but
living in themselves. Just as he was so it seemed the vigorous wintry stars
were strong also with life He and they struck with the same pulse of fire and
the same joy of strength which held the brackenfrond stiff near his eyes held
his own body firm It was as if he and the stars and the dark herbage and
Clara were licked up in an immense tongue of flame which tore onwards and
upwards Everything rushed along in living beside him everything was still
perfect in itself, along with him This wonderful stillness in each thing in
itself, while it was being borne along in a very ecstasy of living seemed the
highest point of bliss
And Clara knew this held him to her so she trusted altogether to the
passion It however failed her very often They did not often reach again the
height of that once when the peewits had called Gradually some mechanical
effort spoilt their loving or when they had splendid moments they had them
separately and not so satisfactorily So often he seemed merely to be running
on alone often they realised it had been a failure not what they had wanted
He left her knowing that evening had only made a little split between them
Their loving grew more mechanical without the marvellous glamour Gradually
they began to introduce novelties to get back some of the feeling of
satisfaction They would be very near almost dangerously near to the river so
that the black water ran not far from his face and it gave a little thrill or
they loved sometimes in a little hollow below the fence of the path where people
were passing occasionally on the edge of the town and they heard footsteps
coming almost felt the vibration of the tread and they heard what the
passersby said strange little things that were never intended to be heard
And afterwards each of them was rather ashamed and these things caused a
distance between the two of them He began to despise her a little as if she
had merited it
One night he left her to go to Daybrook Station over the fields It was very
dark with an attempt at snow although the spring was so far advanced Morel
had not much time he plunged forward The town ceases almost abruptly on the
edge of a steep hollow there the houses with their yellow lights stand up
against the darkness He went over the stile and dropped quickly into the
hollow of the fields Under the orchard one warm window shone in Swineshead
Farm Paul glanced round Behind the houses stood on the brim of the dip black
against the sky like wild beasts glaring curiously with yellow eyes down into
the darkness It was the town that seemed savage and uncouth glaring on the
clouds at the back of him Some creature stirred under the willows of the farm
pond It was too dark to distinguish anything
He was close up to the next stile before he saw a dark shape leaning against
it The man moved aside
»Goodevening« he said
»Goodevening« Morel answered not noticing
»Paul Morel« said the man
Then he knew it was Dawes The man stopped his way
»Ive got yer have I« he said awkwardly
»I shall miss my train« said Paul
He could see nothing of Dawess face The mans teeth seemed to chatter as
he talked
»Youre going to get it from me now« said Dawes
Morel attempted to move forward the other man stepped in front of him
»Are yer goin to take that topcoat off« he said »or are you goin to lie
down to it«
Paul was afraid the man was mad
»But« he said »I dont know how to fight«
»All right then« answered Dawes and before the younger man knew where he
was he was staggering backwards from a blow across the face
The whole night went black He tore off his overcoat and coat dodging a
blow and flung the garments over Dawes The latter swore savagely Morel in
his shirtsleeves was now alert and furious He felt his whole body unsheath
itself like a claw He could not fight so he would use his wits The other man
became more distinct to him he could see particularly the shirtbreast Dawes
stumbled over Pauls coats then came rushing forward The young mans mouth was
bleeding It was the other mans mouth he was dying to get at and the desire
was anguish in its strength He stepped quickly through the stile and as Dawes
was coming through after him like a flash he got a blow in over the others
mouth He shivered with pleasure Dawes advanced slowly spitting Paul was
afraid he moved round to get to the stile again Suddenly from out of nowhere
came a great blow against his ear that sent him falling helpless backwards He
heard Dawess heavy panting like a wild beasts then came a kick on the knee
giving him such agony that he got up and quite blind leapt clean under his
enemys guard He felt blows and kicks but they did not hurt He hung on to the
bigger man like a wild cat till at last Dawes fell with a crash losing his
presence of mind Paul went down with him Pure instinct brought his hands to
the mans neck and before Dawes in frenzy and agony could wrench him free he
had got his fists twisted in the scarf and his knuckles dug in the throat of the
other man He was a pure instinct without reason or feeling His body hard and
wonderful in itself, cleaved against the struggling body of the other man not a
muscle in him relaxed He was quite unconscious only his body had taken upon
itself to kill this other man For himself he had neither feeling nor reason
He lay pressed hard against his adversary his body adjusting itself to its one
pure purpose of choking the other man resisting exactly at the right moment
with exactly the right amount of strength the struggles of the other silent
intent unchanging gradually pressing its knuckles deeper feeling the
struggles of the other body become wilder and more frenzied Tighter and tighter
grew his body like a screw that is gradually increasing in pressure till
something breaks
Then suddenly he relaxed full of wonder and misgiving Dawes had been
yielding Morel felt his body flame with pain as he realised what he was doing
he was all bewildered Dawess struggles suddenly renewed themselves in a
furious spasm Pauls hands were wrenched torn out of the scarf in which they
were knotted and he was flung away helpless He heard the horrid sound of the
others gasping but he lay stunned then still dazed he felt the blows of the
others feet and lost consciousness
Dawes grunting with pain like a beast was kicking the prostrate body of
his rival Suddenly the whistle of the train shrieked two fields away He turned
round and glared suspiciously What was coming He saw the lights of the train
draw across his vision It seemed to him people were approaching He made off
across the field into Nottingham and dimly in his consciousness as he went he
felt on his foot the place where his boot had knocked against one of the lads
bones The knock seemed to reecho inside him he hurried to get away from it
Morel gradually came to himself He knew where he was and what had happened
but he did not want to move He lay still with tiny bits of snow tickling his
face It was pleasant to lie quite quite still The time passed It was the
bits of snow that kept rousing him when he did not want to be roused A last his
will clicked into action
»I mustnt lie here« he said »its silly«
But still he did not move
»I said I was going to get up« he repeated »Why dont I«
And still it was some time before he had sufficiently pulled himself
together to stir then gradually he got up Pain made him sick and dazed but
his brain was clear Reeling he groped for his coats and got them on buttoning
his overcoat up to his ears It was some time before he found his cap He did
not know whether his face was still bleeding Walking blindly every step making
him sick with pain he went back to the pond and washed his face and hands The
icy water hurt but helped to bring him back to himself He crawled back up the
hill to the tram He wanted to get to his mother he must get to his mother
that was his blind intention He covered his face as much as he could and
struggled sickly along Continually the ground seemed to fall away from him as
he walked and he felt himself dropping with a sickening feeling into space so
like a nightmare he got through with the journey home
Everybody was in bed He looked at himself His face was discoloured and
smeared with blood almost like a dead mans face He washed it and went to
bed The night went by in delirium In the morning he found his mother looking
at him Her blue eyes they were all he wanted to see She was there he was in
her hands
»Its not much mother« he said »It was Baxter Dawes«
»Tell me where it hurts you« she said quietly
»I dont know my shoulder Say it was a bicycle accident mother«
He could not move his arm Presently Minnie the little servant came
upstairs with some tea
»Your mothers nearly frightened me out of my wits fainted away« she
said
He felt he could not bear it His mother nursed him he told her about it
»And now I should have done with them all« she said quietly
»I will mother«
She covered him up
»And dont think about it« she said »only try to go to sleep The doctor
wont be here till eleven«
He had a dislocated shoulder and the second day acute bronchitis set in
His mother was pale as death now and very thin She would sit and look at him
then away into space There was something between them that neither dared
mention Clara came to see him Afterwards he said to his mother
»She makes me tired mother«
»Yes I wish she wouldnt come« Mrs Morel replied
Another day Miriam came but she seemed almost like a stranger to him
»You know I dont care about them mother« he said
»Im afraid you dont my son« she replied sadly
It was given out everywhere that it was a bicycle accident Soon he was able
to go to work again but now there was a constant sickness and gnawing at his
heart He went to Clara but there seemed as it were nobody there He could
not work He and his mother seemed almost to avoid each other There was some
secret between them which they could not bear He was not aware of it He only
knew that his life seemed unbalanced as if it were going to smash into pieces
Clara did not know what was the matter with him She realised that he seemed
unaware of her Even when he came to her he seemed unaware of her always he was
somewhere else She felt she was clutching for him and he was somewhere else
It tortured her and so she tortured him For a month at a time she kept him at
arms length He almost hated her and was driven to her in spite of himself He
went mostly into the company of men was always at the George or the White
Horse His mother was ill distant quiet shadowy He was terrified of
something he dared not look at her Her eyes seemed to grow darker her face
more waxen still she dragged about at her work
At Whitsuntide he said he would go to Blackpool for four days with his
friend Newton The latter was a big jolly fellow with a touch of the bounder
about him Paul said his mother must go to Sheffield to stay a week with Annie
who lived there Perhaps the change would do her good Mrs Morel was attending
a womans doctor in Nottingham He said her heart and her digestion were wrong
She consented to go to Sheffield though she did not want to but now she would
do everything her son wished of her Paul said he would come for her on the
fifth day and stay also in Sheffield till the holiday was up It was agreed
The two young men set off gaily for Blackpool Mrs Morel was quite lively
as Paul kissed her and left her Once at the station he forgot everything Four
days were clear not an anxiety not a thought The two young men simply
enjoyed themselves Paul was like another man None of himself remained no
Clara no Miriam no mother that fretted him He wrote to them all and long
letters to his mother but they were jolly letters that made her laugh He was
having a good time as young fellows will in a place like Blackpool And
underneath it all was a shadow for her
Paul was very gay excited at the thought of staying with his mother in
Sheffield Newton was to spend the day with them Their train was late Joking
laughing with their pipes between their teeth the young men swung their bags
on to the tramcar Paul had bought his mother a little collar of real lace that
he wanted to see her wear so that he could tease her about it
Annie lived in a nice house and had a little maid Paul ran gaily up the
steps He expected his mother laughing in the hall but it was Annie who opened
to him She seemed distant to him He stood a second in dismay Annie let him
kiss her cheek
»Is my mother ill« he said
»Yes shes not very well Dont upset her«
»Is she in bed«
»Yes«
And then the queer feeling went over him as if all the sunshine had gone
out of him and it was all shadow He dropped the bag and ran upstairs
Hesitating he opened the door His mother sat up in bed wearing a
dressinggown of oldrose colour She looked at him almost as if she were
ashamed of herself pleading to him humble He saw the ashy look about her
»Mother« he said
»I thought you were never coming« she answered gaily
But he only fell on his knees at the bedside and buried his face in the
bedclothes crying in agony and saying
»Mother mother mother«
She stroked his hair slowly with her thin hand
»Dont cry« she said »Dont cry its nothing«
But he felt as if his blood was melting into tears and he cried in terror
and pain
»Dont dont cry« his mother faltered
Slowly she stroked his hair Shocked out of himself he cried and the tears
hurt in every fibre of his body Suddenly he stopped but he dared not lift his
face out of the bedclothes
»You are late Where have you been« his mother asked
»The train was late« he replied muffled in the sheet
»Yes that miserable Central Is Newton come«
»Yes«
»Im sure you must be hungry and theyve kept dinner waiting«
With a wrench he looked up at her
»What is it mother« he asked brutally
She averted her eyes as she answered
»Only a bit of a tumour my boy You neednt trouble Its been there the
lump has a long time«
Up came the tears again His mind was clear and hard but his body was
crying
»Where« he said
She put her hand on her side
»Here But you know they can sweal a tumour away«
He stood feeling dazed and helpless like a child He thought perhaps it was
as she said Yes he reassured himself it was so But all the while his blood
and his body knew definitely what it was He sat down on the bed and took her
hand She had never had but the one ring her weddingring
»When were you poorly« he asked
»It was yesterday it began« she answered submissively
»Pains«
»Yes but not more than Ive often had at home I believe Dr Ansell is an
alarmist«
»You ought not to have travelled alone« he said to himself more than to
her
»As if that had anything to do with it« she answered quickly
They were silent for a while
»Now go and have your dinner« she said »You must be hungry«
»Have you had yours«
»Yes a beautiful sole I had Annie is good to me«
They talked a little while then he went downstairs He was very white and
strained Newton sat in miserable sympathy
After dinner he went into the scullery to help Annie to wash up The little
maid had gone on an errand
»Is it really a tumour« he asked
Annie began to cry again
»The pain she had yesterday I never saw anybody suffer like it« she
cried »Leonard ran like a madman for Dr Ansell and when shed got to bed she
said to me Annie look at this lump on my side I wonder what it is And there
I looked and I thought I should have dropped Paul as true as Im here its a
lump as big as my double fist I said Good gracious mother whenever did that
come Why child she said its been there a long time I thought I should have
died our Paul I did Shes been having these pains for months at home and
nobody looking after her«
The tears came to his eyes then dried suddenly
»But shes been attending the doctor in Nottingham and she never told me«
he said
»If Id have been at home« said Annie »I should have seen for myself«
He felt like a man walking in unrealities In the afternoon he went to see
the doctor The latter was a shrewd lovable man
»But what is it« he said
The doctor looked at the young man then knitted his fingers
»It may be a large tumour which has formed in the membrane« he said slowly
»and which we may be able to make go away«
»Cant you operate« asked Paul
»Not there« replied the doctor
»Are you sure«
»Quite«
Paul meditated a while
»Are you sure its a tumour« he asked »Why did Dr Jameson in Nottingham
never find out anything about it Shes been going to him for weeks and hes
treated her for heart and indigestion«
»Mrs Morel never told Dr Jameson about the lump« said the doctor
»And do you know its a tumour«
»No I am not sure«
»What else might it be You asked my sister if there was cancer in the
family Might it be cancer«
»I dont know«
»And what shall you do«
»I should like an examination with Dr Jameson«
»Then have one«
»You must arrange about that His fee wouldnt be less than ten guineas to
come here from Nottingham«
»When would you like him to come«
»I will call in this evening and we will talk it over«
Paul went away biting his lip
His mother could come downstairs for tea the doctor said Her son went
upstairs to help her She wore the oldrose dressinggown that Leonard had given
Annie and with a little colour in her face was quite young again
»But you look quite pretty in that« he said
»Yes they make me so fine I hardly know myself« she answered
But when she stood up to walk the colour went Paul helped her
halfcarrying her At the top of the stairs she was gone He lifted her up and
carried her quickly downstairs laid her on the couch She was light and frail
Her face looked as if she were dead with blue lips shut tight Her eyes opened
her blue unfailing eyes and she looked at him pleadingly almost wanting
him to forgive her He held brandy to her lips but her mouth would not open
All the time she watched him lovingly She was only sorry for him The tears ran
down his face without ceasing but not a muscle moved He was intent on getting
a little brandy between her lips Soon she was able to swallow a teaspoonful
She lay back so tired The tears continued to run down his face
»But« she panted »itll go off Dont cry«
»Im not doing« he said
After a while she was better again He was kneeling beside the couch They
looked into each others eyes
»I dont want you to make a trouble of it« she said
»No mother Youll have to be quite still and then youll get better
soon«
But he was white to the lips and their eyes as they looked at each other
understood Her eyes were so blue such a wonderful forgetmenot blue He felt
if only they had been of a different colour he could have borne it better His
heart seemed to be ripping slowly in his breast He kneeled there holding her
hand and neither said anything Then Annie came in
»Are you all right« she murmured timidly to her mother
»Of course« said Mrs Morel
Paul sat down and told her about Blackpool She was curious
A day or two after he went to see Dr Jameson in Nottingham to arrange for
a consulation Paul had practically no money in the world But he could borrow
His mother had been used to go to the public consultation on Saturday
morning when she could see the doctor for only a nominal sum Her son went on
the same day The waitingroom was full of poor women who sat patiently on a
bench around the wall Paul thought of his mother in her little black costume
sitting waiting likewise The doctor was late The women all looked rather
frightened Paul asked the nurse in attendance if he could see the doctor
immediately he came It was arranged so The women sitting patiently round the
walls of the room eyed the young man curiously
At last the doctor came He was about forty goodlooking brownskinned
His wife had died and he who had loved her had specialised on womens
ailments Paul told his name and his mothers The doctor did not remember
»Number fortysix M« said the nurse and the doctor looked up the case in
his book
»There is a big lump that may be a tumour« said Paul »But Dr Ansell was
going to write you a letter«
»Ah yes« replied the doctor drawing the letter from his pocket He was
very friendly affable busy kind He would come to Sheffield the next day
»What is your father« he asked
»He is a coalminer« replied Paul
»Not very well off I suppose«
»This I see after this« said Paul
»And you« smiled the doctor
»I am a clerk in Jordans Appliance Factory«
The doctor smiled at him
»Er to go to Sheffield« he said putting the tips of his fingers
together and smiling with his eyes »Eight guineas«
»Thank you« said Paul flushing and rising »And youll come tomorrow«
»Tomorrow Sunday Yes Can you tell me about what time there is a train
in the afternoon«
»There is a Central gets in at fourfifteen«
»And will there be any way of getting up to the house Shall I have to
walk« The doctor smiled
»There is the tram« said Paul »the Western Park tram«
The doctor made a note of it
»Thank you« he said and shook hands
Then Paul went on home to see his father who was left in the charge of
Minnie Walter Morel was getting very grey now Paul found him digging in the
garden He had written him a letter He shook hands with his father
»Hello son Tha has landed then« said the father
»Yes« replied the son »But Im going back tonight«
»Are ter beguy« exclaimed the collier »An has ter eaten owt«
»No«
»Thats just like thee« said Morel »Come thy ways in«
The father was afraid of the mention of his wife The two went indoors Paul
ate in silence his father with earthy hands and sleeves rolled up sat in the
armchair opposite and looked at him
»Well an how is she« asked the miner at length in a little voice
»She can sit up she can be carried down for tea« said Paul
»Thats a blessin« exclaimed Morel »I hope we sll soon be havin her
whoam then An whats that Nottingham doctor say«
»Hes going tomorrow to have an examination of her«
»Is he beguy Thats a tidy penny Im thinkin«
»Eight guineas«
»Eight guineas« the miner spoke breathlessly »Well we mun find it from
somewhere«
»I can pay that« said Paul
There was silence between them for some time
»She says she hopes youre getting on all right with Minnie« Paul said
»Yes Im all right an I wish as she was« answered Morel
»But Minnies a good little wench bless er heart« He sat looking dismal
»I sll have to be going at halfpast three« said Paul
»Its a trapse for thee lad Eight guineas An when dost think shell be
able to get as far as this«
»We must see what the doctors say tomorrow« Paul said
Morel sighed deeply The house seemed strangely empty and Paul thought his
father looked lost forlorn and old
»Youll have to go and see her next week father« he said
»I hope shell be awhoam by that time« said Morel
»If shes not« said Paul »then you must come«
»I dunno wheer I sll find th money« said Morel
»And Ill write to you what the doctor says« said Paul
»But tha writes i such a fashion I canna mae it out« said Morel
»Well Ill write plain«
It was no good asking Morel to answer for he could scarcely do more than
write his own name
The doctor came Leonard felt it his duty to meet him with a cab The
examination did not take long Annie Arthur Paul and Leonard were waiting in
the parlour anxiously The doctors came down Paul glanced at them He had never
had any hope except when he had deceived himself
»It may be a tumour we must wait and see« said Dr Jameson
»And if it is« said Annie »can you sweal it away«
»Probably« said the doctor
Paul put eight sovereigns and half a sovereign on the table The doctor
counted them took a florin out of his purse and put that down
»Thank you« he said »Im sorry Mrs Morel is so ill But we must see what
we can do«
»There cant be an operation« said Paul
The doctor shook his head
»No« he said »and even if there could her heart wouldnt stand it«
»Is her heart risky« asked Paul
»Yes you must be careful with her«
»Very risky«
»No er no no Just take care«
And the doctor was gone
Then Paul carried his mother downstairs She lay simply like a child But
when he was on the stairs she put her arms round his neck clinging
»Im so frightened of these beastly stairs« she said
And he was frightened too He would let Leonard do it another time He felt
he could not carry her
»He thinks its only a tumour« cried Annie to her mother »And he can sweal
it away«
»I knew he could« protested Mrs Morel scornfully
She pretended not to notice that Paul had gone out of the room He sat in
the kitchen smoking Then he tried to brush some grey ash off his coat He
looked again It was one of his mothers grey hairs It was so long He held it
up and it drifted into the chimney He let go The long grey hair floated and
was gone in the blackness of the chimney
The next day he kissed her before going back to work It was very early in
the morning and they were alone
»You wont fret my boy« she said
»No mother«
»No it would be silly And take care of yourself«
»Yes« he answered Then after a while »And I shall come next Saturday
and shall bring my father«
»I suppose he wants to come« she replied »At any rate if he does youll
have to let him«
He kissed her again and stroked the hair from her temples gently
tenderly as if she were a lover
»Shant you be late« she murmured
»Im going« he said very low
Still he sat a few minutes stroking the brown and grey hair from her
temples
»And you wont be any worse mother«
»No my son«
»You promise me«
»Yes I wont be any worse«
He kissed her held her in his arms for a moment and was gone In the early
sunny morning he ran to the station crying all the way he did not know what
for And her blue eyes were wide and staring as she thought of him
In the afternoon he went a walk with Clara They sat in the little wood
where bluebells were standing He took her hand
»Youll see« he said to Clara »shell never be better«
»Oh you dont know« replied the other
»I do« he said
She caught him impulsively to her breast
»Try and forget it dear« she said »try and forget it«
»I will« he answered
Her breast was there warm for him her hands were in his hair It was
comforting and he held his arms round her But he did not forget He only
talked to Clara of something else And it was always so When she felt it
coming the agony she cried to him
»Dont think of it Paul Dont think of it my darling«
And she pressed him to her breast rocked him soothed him like a child So
he put the trouble aside for her sake to take it up again immediately he was
alone All the time as he went about he cried mechanically His mind and hands
were busy He cried he did not know why It was his blood weeping He was just
as much alone whether he was with Clara or with the men in the White Horse Just
himself and this pressure inside him that was all that existed He read
sometimes He had to keep his mind occupied And Clara was a way of occupying
his mind
On the Saturday Walter Morel went to Sheffield He was a forlorn figure
looking rather as if nobody owned him Paul ran upstairs
»My fathers come« he said kissing his mother
»Has he« she answered weariedly
The old collier came rather frightened into the bedroom
»How dun I find thee lass« he said going forward and kissing her in a
hasty timid fashion
»Well Im middlin« she replied
»I see tha art« he said He stood looking down on her Then he wiped his
eyes with his handkerchief Helpless and as if nobody owned him he looked
»Have you gone on all right« asked the wife rather wearily as if it were
an effort to talk to him
»Yis« he answered »Ers a bit behinthand now and again as yer might
expect«
»Does she have your dinner ready« asked Mrs Morel
»Well Ive ad to shout at er once or twice« he said
»And you must shout at her if shes not ready She will leave things to the
last minute«
She gave him a few instructions He sat looking at her as if she were almost
a stranger to him before whom he was awkward and humble and also as if he had
lost his presence of mind and wanted to run This feeling that he wanted to run
away that he was on thorns to be gone from so trying a situation and yet must
linger because it looked better made his presence so trying He put up his
eyebrows for misery and clenched his fists on his knees feeling so awkward in
presence of big trouble
Mrs Morel did not change much She stayed in Sheffield for two months If
anything at the end she was rather worse But she wanted to go home Annie had
her children Mrs Morel wanted to go home So they got a motorcar from
Nottingham for she was too ill to go by train and she was driven through the
sunshine It was just August everything was bright and warm Under the blue sky
they could all see she was dying Yet she was jollier than she had been for
weeks They all laughed and talked
»Annie« she exclaimed »I saw a lizard dart on that rock«
Her eyes were so quick she was still so full of life
Morel knew she was coming He had the front door open Everybody was on
tiptoe Half the street turned out They heard the sound of the great motorcar
Mrs Morel smiling drove home down the street
»And just look at them all come out to see me« she said »But there I
suppose I should have done the same How do you do Mrs Mathews How are you
Mrs Harrison«
They none of them could hear but they saw her smile and nod And they all
saw death on her face they said It was a great event in the street
Morel wanted to carry her indoors but he was too old Arthur took her as if
she were a child They had set her a big deep chair by the hearth where her
rockingchair used to stand When she was unwrapped and seated and had drunk a
little brandy she looked round the room
»Dont think I dont like your house Annie« she said »but its nice to be
in my own home again«
And Morel answered huskily
»It is lass it is«
And Minnie the little quaint maid said
»An we glad t ave yer«
There was a lovely yellow ravel of sunflowers in the garden She looked out
of the window
»There are my sunflowers« she said
Chapter XIV
The Release
»By the way« said Dr Ansell one evening when Morel was in Sheffield »weve
got a man in the fever hospital here who comes from Nottingham Dawes He
doesnt seem to have many belongings in this world«
»Baxter Dawes« Paul exclaimed
»Thats the man has been a fine fellow physically I should think Been
in a bit of a mess lately You know him«
»He used to work at the place where I am«
»Did he Do you know anything about him Hes just sulking or hed be a lot
better than he is by now«
»I dont know anything of his home circumstances except that hes separated
from his wife and has been a bit down I believe But tell him about me will
you Tell him Ill come and see him«
The next time Morel saw the doctor he said
»And what about Dawes«
»I said to him« answered the other »Do you know a man from Nottingham
named Morel and he looked at me as if hed jump at my throat So I said I see
you know the name its Paul Morel Then I told him about your saying you would
go and see him What does he want he said as if you were a policeman«
»And did he say he would see me« asked Paul
»He wouldnt say anything good bad or indifferent« replied the doctor
»Why not«
»Thats what I want to know There he lies and sulks day in day out Cant
get a word of information out of him«
»Do you think I might go« asked Paul
»You might«
There was a feeling of connection between the rival men more than ever
since they had fought In a way Morel felt guilty towards the other and more or
less responsible And being in such a state of soul himself he felt an almost
painful nearness to Dawes who was suffering and despairing too Besides they
had met in a naked extremity of hate and it was a bond At any rate the
elemental man in each had met
He went down to the isolation hospital with Dr Ansells card This sister
a healthy young Irishwoman led him down the ward
»A visitor to see you Jim Crow« she said
Dawes turned over suddenly with a startled grunt
»Eh«
»Caw« she mocked »He can only say Caw I have brought you a gentleman to
see you Now say Thank you and show some manners«
Dawes looked swiftly with his dark startled eyes beyond the sister at Paul
His look was full of fear mistrust hate and misery Morel met the swift dark
eyes and hesitated The two men were afraid of the naked selves they had been
»Dr Ansell told me you were here« said Morel holding out his hand
Dawes mechanically shook hands
»So I thought Id come in« continued Paul
There was no answer Dawes lay staring at the opposite wall
»Say Caw« mocked the nurse »Say Caw Jim Crow«
»He is getting on all right« said Paul to her
»Oh yes He lies and imagines hes going to die« said the nurse »and it
frightens every word out of his mouth«
»And you must have somebody to talk to« laughed Morel
»Thats it« laughed the nurse »Only two old men and a boy who always
cries It is hard lines Here am I dying to hear Jim Crows voice and nothing
but an odd Caw will he give«
»So rough on you« said Morel
»Isnt it« said the nurse
»I suppose I am a godsend« he laughed
»Oh dropped straight from heaven« laughed the nurse
Presently she left the two men alone Dawes was thinner and handsome again
but life seemed low in him As the doctor said he was lying sulking and would
not move forward towards convalescence He seemed to grudge every beat of his
heart
»Have you had a bad time« asked Paul
Suddenly again Dawes looked at him
»What are you doing in Sheffield« he asked
»My mother was taken ill at my sisters in Thurston Street What are you
doing here«
There was no answer
»How long have you been in« Morel asked
»I couldnt say for sure« Dawes answered grudgingly
He lay staring across at the wall opposite as if trying to believe Morel
was not there Paul felt his heart go hard and angry
»Dr Ansell told me you were here« he said coldly
The other man did not answer
»Typhoids pretty bad I know« Morel persisted
Suddenly Dawes said
»What did you come for«
»Because Dr Ansell said you didnt know anybody here Do you«
»I know nobody nowhere« said Dawes
»Well« said Paul »its because you dont choose to then«
There was another silence
»We sll be taking my mother home as soon as we can« said Paul
»Whats amatter with her« asked Dawes with a sick mans interest in
illness
»Shes got a cancer«
There was another silence
»But we want to get her home« said Paul »We sll have to get a motorcar«
»Dawes lay thinking«
»Why dont you ask Thomas Jordan to lend you his« said Dawes
»Its not big enough« Morel answered
Dawes blinked his dark eyes as he lay thinking
»Then ask Jack Pilkington hed lend it you You know him«
»I think I sll hire one« said Paul
»Youre a fool if you do« said Dawes
The sick man was gaunt and handsome again Paul was sorry for him because
his eyes looked so tired
»Did you get a job here« he asked
»I was only here a day or two before I was taken bad« Dawes replied
»You want to get in a convalescent home« said Paul
The others face clouded again
»Im goin in no convalescent home« he said
»My fathers been in the one at Seathorpe an he liked it Dr Ansell would
get you a recommend«
Dawes lay thinking It was evident he dared not face the world again
»The seaside would be all right just now« Morel said »Sun on those
sandhills and the waves not far out«
The other did not answer
»By Gad« Paul concluded too miserable to bother much »its all right when
you know youre going to walk again and swim«
Dawes glanced at him quickly The mans dark eyes were afraid to meet any
other eyes in the world But the real misery and helplessness in Pauls tone
gave him a feeling of relief
»Is she far gone« he asked
»Shes going like wax« Paul answered »but cheerful lively«
He bit his lip After a minute he rose
»Well Ill be going« he said »Ill leave you this halfcrown«
»I dont want it« Dawes muttered
Morel did not answer but left the coin on the table
»Well« he said »Ill try and run in when Im back in Sheffield Happen you
might like to see my brotherinlaw He works in Pyecrofts«
»I dont know him« said Dawes
»Hes all right Should I tell him to come He might bring you some papers
to look at«
The other man did not answer Paul went The strong emotion that Dawes
aroused in him repressed made him shiver
He did not tell his mother but next day he spoke to Clara about this
interview It was in the dinnerhour The two did not often go out together now
but this day he asked her to go with him to the Castle grounds There they sat
while the scarlet geraniums and the yellow calceolarias blazed in the sunlight
She was now always rather protective and rather resentful towards him
»Did you know Baxter was in Sheffield Hospital with typhoid« he asked
She looked at him with startled grey eyes and her face went pale
»No« she said frightened
»Hes getting better I went to see him yesterday the doctor told me«
Clara seemed stricken by the news
»Is he very bad« she asked guiltily
»He has been Hes mending now«
»What did he say to you«
»Oh nothing He seems to be sulking«
There was a distance between the two of them He gave her more information
She went about shut up and silent The next time they took a walk together
she disengaged herself from his arm and walked at a distance from him He was
wanting her comfort badly
»Wont you be nice with me« he asked
She did not answer
»Whats the matter« he said putting his arm across her shoulder
»Dont« she said disengaging herself
He left her alone and returned to his own brooding
»Is it Baxter that upsets you« he asked at length
»I have been vile to him« she said
»Ive said many a time you havent treated him well« he replied
And there was a hostility between them Each pursued his own train of
thought
»Ive treated him no Ive treated him badly« she said »And now you
treat me badly It serves me right«
»How do I treat you badly« he said
»It serves me right« she repeated »I never considered him worth having
and now you dont consider me But it serves me right He loved me a thousand
times better than you ever did«
»He didnt« protested Paul
»He did At any rate he did respect me and thats what you dont do«
»It looked as if he respected you« he said
»He did And I made him horrid I know I did Youve taught me that And he
loved me a thousand times better than ever you do«
»All right« said Paul
He only wanted to be left alone now He had his own trouble which was
almost too much to bear Clara only tormented him and made him tired He was not
sorry when he left her
She went on the first opportunity to Sheffield to see her husband The
meeting was not a success But she left him roses and fruit and money She
wanted to make restitution It was not that she loved him As she looked at him
lying there her heart did not warm with love Only she wanted to humble herself
to him to kneel before him She wanted now to be selfsacrificial After all
she had failed to make Morel really love her She was morally frightened She
wanted to do penance So she kneeled to Dawes and it gave him a subtle
pleasure But the distance between them was still very great too great It
frightened the man It almost pleased the woman She liked to feel she was
serving him across an insuperable distance She was proud now
Morel went to see Dawes once or twice There was a sort of friendship
between the two men who were all the while deadly rivals But they never
mentioned the woman who was between them
Mrs Morel got gradually worse At first they used to carry her downstairs
sometimes even into the garden She sat propped in her chair smiling and so
pretty The gold weddingring shone on her white hand her hair was carefully
brushed And she watched the tangled sunflowers dying the chrysanthemums coming
out and the dahlias
Paul and she were afraid of each other He knew and she knew that she was
dying But they kept up a pretence of cheerfulness Every morning when he got
up he went into her room in his pyjamas
»Did you sleep my dear« he asked
»Yes« she answered
»Not very well«
»Well yes«
Then he knew she had lain awake He saw her hand under the bedclothes
pressing the place on her side where the pain was
»Has it been bad« he asked
»No It hurt a bit but nothing to mention«
And she sniffed in her old scornful way As she lay she looked like a girl
And all the while her blue eyes watched him But there were the dark
paincircles beneath that made him ache again
»Its a sunny day« he said
»Its a beautiful day«
»Do you think youll be carried down«
»I shall see«
Then he went away to get her breakfast All day long he was conscious of
nothing but her It was a long ache that made him feverish Then when he got
home in the early evening he glanced through the kitchen window She was not
there she had not got up
He ran straight upstairs and kissed her He was almost afraid to ask
»Didnt you get up pigeon«
»No« she said »It was that morphia it made me tired«
»I think he gives you too much« he said
»I think he does« she answered
He sat down by the bed miserably She had a way of curling and lying on her
side like a child The grey and brown hair was loose over her ear
»Doesnt it tickle you« he said gently putting it back
»It does« she replied
His face was near hers Her blue eyes smiled straight into his like a
girls warm laughing with tender love It made him pant with terror agony
and love
»You want your hair doing in a plait« he said »Lie still«
And going behind her he carefully loosened her hair brushed it out It was
like fine long silk of brown and grey Her head was snuggled between her
shoulders As he lightly brushed and plaited her hair he bit his lip and felt
dazed It all seemed unreal he could not understand it
At night he often worked in her room looking up from time to time And so
often he found her blue eyes fixed on him And when their eyes met she smiled
He worked away again mechanically producing good stuff without knowing what he
was doing
Sometimes he came in very pale and still with watchful sudden eyes like
a man who is drunk almost to death They were both afraid of the veils that were
ripping between them
Then she pretended to be better chattered to him gaily made a great fuss
over some scraps of news For they had both come to the condition when they had
to make much of the trifles lest they should give in to the big thing and
their human independence would go smash They were afraid so they made light of
things and were gay
Sometimes as she lay he knew she was thinking of the past Her mouth
gradually shut hard in a line She was holding herself rigid so that she might
die without ever uttering the great cry that was tearing from her He never
forgot that hard utterly lonely and stubborn clenching of her mouth which
persisted for weeks Sometimes when it was lighter she talked about her
husband Now she hated him She did not forgive him She could not bear him to
be in the room And a few things the things that had been most bitter to her
came up again so strongly that they broke from her and she told her son
He felt as if his life were being destroyed piece by piece within him
Often the tears came suddenly He ran to the station the teardrops falling on
the pavement Often he could not go on with his work The pen stopped writing
He sat staring quite unconscious And when he came round again he felt sick
and trembled in his limbs He never questioned what it was His mind did not try
to analyse or understand He merely submitted and kept his eyes shut let the
thing go over him
His mother did the same She thought of the pain of the morphia of the
next day hardly ever of the death That was coming she knew She had to submit
to it But she would never entreat it or make friends with it Blind with her
face shut hard and blind she was pushed towards the door The days passed the
weeks the months
Sometimes in the sunny afternoons she seemed almost happy
»I try to think of the nice times when we went to Mablethorpe and Robin
Hoods Bay and Shanklin« she said »After all not everybody has seen those
beautiful places And wasnt it beautiful I try to think of that not of the
other things«
Then again for a whole evening she spoke not a word neither did he They
were together rigid stubborn silent He went into his room at last to go to
bed and leaned against the doorway as if paralysed unable to go any farther
His consciousness went A furious storm he knew not what seemed to ravage
inside him He stood leaning there submitting never questioning
In the morning they were both normal again though her face was grey with
the morphia and her body felt like ash But they were bright again
nevertheless Often especially if Annie or Arthur were at home he neglected
her He did not see much of Clara Usually he was with men He was quick and
active and lively but when his friends saw him go white to the gills his eyes
dark and glittering they had a certain mistrust of him Sometimes he went to
Clara but she was almost cold to him
»Take me« he said simply
Occasionally she would But she was afraid When he had her then there was
something in it that made her shrink away from him something unnatural She
grew to dread him He was so quiet yet so strange She was afraid of the man
who was not there with her whom she could feel behind this makebelief lover
somebody sinister that filled her with horror She began to have a kind of
horror of him It was almost as if he were a criminal He wanted her he had
her and it made her feel as if death itself had her in its grip She lay in
horror There was no man there loving her She almost hated him Then came
little bouts of tenderness But she dared not pity him
Dawes had come to Colonel Seelys Home near Nottingham There Paul visited
him sometimes Clara very occasionally Between the two men the friendship
developed peculiarly Dawes who mended very slowly and seemed very feeble
seemed to leave himself in the hands of Morel
In the beginning of November Clara reminded Paul that it was her birthday
»Id nearly forgotten« he said
»Id thought quite« she replied
»No Shall we go to the seaside for the weekend«
They went It was cold and rather dismal She waited for him to be warm and
tender with her instead of which he seemed hardly aware of her He sat in the
railwaycarriage looking out and was startled when she spoke to him He was
not definitely thinking Things seemed as if they did not exist. She went across
to him
»What is it dear« she asked
»Nothing« he said »Dont those windmill sails look monotonous«
He sat holding her hand He could not talk nor think It was a comfort
however to sit holding her hand She was dissatisfied and miserable He was not
with her she was nothing
And in the evening they sat among the sandhills looking at the black heavy
sea
»She will never give in« he said quietly
Claras heart sank
»No« she replied
»There are different ways of dying My fathers people are frightened and
have to be hauled out of life into death like cattle into a slaughterhouse
pulled by the neck but my mothers people are pushed from behind inch by inch
They are stubborn people and wont die«
»Yes« said Clara
»And she wont die She cant Mr Renshaw the parson was in the other
day Think he said to her you will have your mother and father and your
sisters and your son in the Other Land And she said I have done without them
for a long time and can do without them now It is the living I want not the
dead She wants to live even now«
»Oh how horrible« said Clara too frightened to speak
»And she looks at me and she wants to stay with me« he went on
monotonously »Shes got such a will it seems as if she would never go
never«
»Dont think of it« cried Clara
»And she was religious she is religious now but it is no good She
simply wont give in And do you know I said to her on Thursday Mother if I
had to die Id die Id will to die And she said to me sharp Do you think I
havent Do you think you can die when you like«
His voice ceased He did not cry only went on speaking monotonously Clara
wanted to run She looked round There was the black reechoing shore the dark
sky down on her She got up terrified She wanted to be where there was light
where there were other people She wanted to be away from him He sat with his
head dropped not moving a muscle
»And I dont want her to eat« he said »and she knows it When I ask her
Shall you have anything shes almost afraid to say Yes Ill have a cup of
Bengers she says Itll only keep your strength up I said to her Yes and
she almost cried but theres such a gnawing when I eat nothing I cant bear
it So I went and made her the food Its the cancer that gnaws like that at
her I wish shed die«
»Come« said Clara roughly »Im going«
He followed her down the darkness of the sands He did not come to her He
seemed scarcely aware of her existence. And she was afraid of him and disliked
him
In the same acute daze they went back to Nottingham He was always busy
always doing something always going from one to the other of his friends
On the Monday he went to see Baxter Dawes Listless and pale the man rose
to greet the other clinging to his chair as he held out his hand
»You shouldnt get up« said Paul
Dawes sat down heavily eyeing Morel with a sort of suspicion
»Dont you waste your time on me« he said »if youve owt better to do«
»I wanted to come« said Paul »Here I brought you some sweets«
The invalid put them aside
»Its not been much of a weekend« said Morel
»Hows your mother« asked the other
»Hardly any different«
»I thought she was perhaps worse being as you didnt come on Sunday«
»I was at Skegness« said Paul »I wanted a change«
The other looked at him with dark eyes He seemed to be waiting not quite
daring to ask trusting to be told
»I went with Clara« said Paul
»I knew as much« said Dawes quietly
»It was an old promise« said Paul
»You have it your own way« said Dawes
This was the first time Clara had been definitely mentioned between them
»Nay« said Morel slowly »shes tired of me«
Again Dawes looked at him
»Since August shes been getting tired of me« Morel repeated
The two men were very quiet together Paul suggested a game of draughts
They played in silence
»I sll go abroad when my mothers dead« said Paul
»Abroad« repeated Dawes
»Yes I dont care what I do«
They continued the game Dawes was winning
»I sll have to begin a new start of some sort« said Paul »and you as
well I suppose«
He took one of Dawess pieces
»I dunno where« said the other
»Things have to happen« Morel said »Its no good doing anything at least
no I dont know Give me some toffee«
The two men ate sweets and began another game of draughts
»What made that scar on your mouth« asked Dawes
Paul put his hand hastily to his lips and looked over the garden
»I had a bicycle accident« he said
Dawess hand trembled as he moved the piece
»You shouldnt ha laughed at me« he said very low
»When«
»That night on Woodborough Road when you and her passed me you with your
hand on her shoulder«
»I never laughed at you« said Paul
Dawes kept his fingers on the draughtpiece
»I never knew you were there till the very second when you passed« said
Morel
»It was that as did me« Dawes said very low
Paul took another sweet
»I never laughed« he said »except as Im always laughing«
They finished the game
That night Morel walked home from Nottingham in order to have something to
do The furnaces flared in a red blotch over Bulwell the black clouds were like
a low ceiling As he went along the ten miles of highroad he felt as if he were
walking out of life between the black levels of the sky and the earth But at
the end was only the sickroom If he walked and walked for ever there was only
that place to come to
He was not tired when he got near home or he did not know it Across the
field he could see the red firelight leaping in her bedroom window
»When shes dead« he said to himself »that fire will go out«
He took off his boots quietly and crept upstairs His mothers door was wide
open because she slept alone still The red firelight dashed its glow on the
landing Soft as a shadow he peeped in her doorway
»Paul« she murmured
His heart seemed to break again He went in and sat by the bed
»How late you are« she murmured
»Not very« he said
»Why what time is it« The murmur came plaintive and helpless
»Its only just gone eleven«
That was not true it was nearly one oclock
»Oh« she said »I thought it was later«
And he knew the unutterable misery of her nights that would not go
»Cant you sleep my pigeon« he said
»No I cant« she wailed
»Never mind Little« he said crooning »Never mind my love Ill stop with
you half an hour my pigeon then perhaps it will be better«
And he sat by the bedside slowly rhythmically stroking her brows with his
fingertips stroking her eyes shut soothing her holding her fingers in his
free hand They could hear the sleepers breathing in the other rooms
»Now go to bed« she murmured lying quite still under his fingers and his
love
»Will you sleep« he asked
»Yes I think so«
»You feel better my Little dont you«
»Yes« she said like a fretful halfsoothed child
Still the days and the weeks went by He hardly ever went to see Clara now
But he wandered restlessly from one person to another for some help and there
was none anywhere Miriam had written to him tenderly He went to see her Her
heart was very sore when she saw him white gaunt with his eyes dark and
bewildered Her pity came up hurting her till she could not bear it
»How is she« she asked
»The same the same« he said »The doctor says she cant last but I know
she will Shell be here at Christmas«
Miriam shuddered She drew him to her she pressed him to her bosom she
kissed him and kissed him He submitted but it was torture She could not kiss
his agony That remained alone and apart She kissed his face and roused his
blood while his soul was apart writhing with the agony of death And she kissed
him and fingered his body till at last feeling he would go mad he got away
from her It was not that he wanted just then not that And she thought she
had soothed him and done him good
December came and some snow He stayed at home all the while now They
could not afford a nurse Annie came to look after her mother the parish nurse
whom they loved came in morning and evening Paul shared the nursing with
Annie Often in the evenings when friends were in the kitchen with them they
all laughed together and shook with laughter It was reaction Paul was so
comical Annie was so quaint The whole party laughed till they cried trying to
subdue the sound And Mrs Morel lying alone in the darkness heard them and
among her bitterness was a feeling of relief
Then Paul would go upstairs gingerly guiltily to see if she had heard
»Shall I give you some milk« he asked
»A little« she replied plaintively
And he would put some water with it so that it should not nourish her Yet
he loved her more than his own life
She had morphia every night and her heart got fitful Annie slept beside
her Paul would go in in the early morning when his sister got up His mother
was wasted and almost ashen in the morning with the morphia Darker and darker
grew her eyes all pupil with the torture In the mornings the weariness and
ache was too much to bear Yet she could not would not weep or even
complain much
»You slept a bit later this morning little one« he would say to her
»Did I« she answered with fretful weariness
»Yes its nearly eight oclock«
He stood looking out of the window The whole country was bleak and pallid
under the snow Then he felt her pulse There was a strong stroke and a weak
one like a sound and its echo That was supposed to betoken the end She let
him feel her wrist knowing what he wanted
Sometimes they looked in each others eyes Then they almost seemed to make
an agreement It was almost as if he were agreeing to die also But she did not
consent to die she would not Her body was wasted to a fragment of ash Her
eyes were dark and full of torture
»Cant you give her something to put an end to it« he asked the doctor at
last
But the doctor shook his head
»She cant last many days now Mr Morel« he said
Paul went indoors
»I cant bear it much longer we shall all go mad« said Annie
The two sat down to breakfast
»Go and sit with her while we have breakfast Minnie« said Annie But the
girl was frightened
Paul went through the country through the woods over the snow He saw the
marks of rabbits and birds in the white snow He wandered miles and miles A
smoky red sunset came on slowly painfully lingering He thought she would die
that day There was a donkey that came up to him over the snow by the woods
edge and put its head against him and walked with him alongside He put his
arms round the donkeys neck and stroked his cheeks against his ears
His mother silent was still alive with her hard mouth gripped grimly her
eyes of dark torture only living
It was nearing Christmas there was more snow Annie and he felt as if they
could go on no more Still her dark eyes were alive Morel silent and
frightened obliterated himself Sometimes he would go into the sickroom and
look at her Then he backed out bewildered
She kept her hold on life still The miners had been out on strike and
returned a fortnight or so before Christmas Minnie went upstairs with the
feedingcup It was two days after the men had been in
»Have the men been saying their hands are sore Minnie« she asked in the
faint querulous voice that would not give in Minnie stood surprised
»Not as I know of Mrs Morel« she answered
»But Ill bet they are sore« said the dying woman as she moved her head
with a sigh of weariness »But at any rate therell be something to buy in
with this week«
Not a thing did she let slip
»Your fathers pit things will want well airing Annie« she said when the
men were going back to work
»Dont you bother about that my dear« said Annie
One night Annie and Paul were alone Nurse was upstairs
»Shell live over Christmas« said Annie They were both full of horror
»She wont« he replied grimly »I sll give her morphia«
»Which« said Annie
»All that came from Sheffield« said Paul
»Ay do« said Annie
The next day he was painting in the bedroom She seemed to be asleep He
stepped softly backwards and forwards at his painting Suddenly her small voice
wailed
»Dont walk about Paul«
He looked round Her eyes like dark bubbles in her face were looking at
him
»No my dear« he said gently Another fibre seemed to snap in his heart
That evening he got all the morphia pills there were and took them
downstairs Carefully he crushed them to powder
»What are you doing« said Annie
»I sll put em in her night milk«
Then they both laughed together like two conspiring children On top of all
their horror flicked this little sanity
Nurse did not come that night to settle Mrs Morel down Paul went up with
the hot milk in a feedingcup It was nine oclock
She was reared up in bed and he put the feedingcup between her lips that
he would have died to save from any hurt She took a sip then put the spout of
the cup away and looked at him with her dark wondering eyes He looked at her
»Oh it is bitter Paul« she said making a little grimace
»Its a new sleeping draught the doctor gave me for you« he said »He
thought it wouldnt leave you in such a state in the morning«
»And I hope it wont« she said like a child
She drank some more of the milk
»But it is horrid« she said
He saw her frail fingers over the cup her lips making a little move
»I know I tasted it« he said »But Ill give you some clean milk
afterwards«
»I think so« she said and she went on with the draught She was obedient
to him like a child He wondered if she knew He saw her poor wasted throat
moving as she drank with difficulty Then he ran downstairs for more milk There
were no grains in the bottom of the cup
»Has she had it« whispered Annie
»Yes and she said it was bitter«
»Oh« laughed Annie putting her under lip between her teeth
»And I told her it was a new draught Wheres that milk«
They both went upstairs
»I wonder why nurse didnt come to settle me down« complained the mother
like a child wistfully
»She said she was going to a concert my love« replied Annie
»Did she«
They were silent a minute Mrs Morel gulped the little clean milk
»Annie that draught was horrid« she said plaintively
»Was it my love Well never mind«
The mother sighed again with weariness Her pulse was very irregular
»Let us settle you down« said Annie »Perhaps nurse will be so late«
»Ay« said the mother »try«
They turned the clothes back Paul saw his mother like a girl curled up in
her flannel nightdress Quickly they made one half of the bed moved her made
the other straightened her nightgown over her small feet and covered her up
»There« said Paul stroking her softly »There now youll sleep«
»Yes« she said »I didnt think you could do the bed so nicely« she added
almost gaily Then she curled up with her cheek on her hand her head snugged
between her shoulder Paul put the long thin plait of grey hair over her
shoulder and kissed her
»Youll sleep my love« he said
»Yes« she answered trustfully »Goodnight«
They put out the light and it was still
Morel was in bed Nurse did not come Annie and Paul came to look at her at
about eleven She seemed to be sleeping as usual after her draught Her mouth
had come a bit open
»Shall we sit up« said Paul
»I sll lie with her as I always do« said Annie »She might wake up«
»All right And call me if you see any difference«
»Yes«
They lingered before the bedroom fire feeling the night big and black and
snowy outside their two selves alone in the world At last he went into the
next room and went to bed
He slept almost immediately but kept waking every now and again Then he
went sound asleep He started awake at Annies whispered »Paul Paul« He saw
his sister in her white nightdress with her long plait of hair down her back
standing in the darkness
»Yes« he whispered sitting up
»Come and look at her«
He slipped out of bed A bud of gas was burning in the sick chamber His
mother lay with her cheek on her hand curled up as she had gone to sleep But
her mouth had fallen open and she breathed with great hoarse breaths like
snoring and there were long intervals between
»Shes going« he whispered
»Yes« said Annie
»How long has she been like it«
»I only just woke up«
Annie huddled into the dressinggown Paul wrapped himself in a brown
blanket It was three oclock He mended the fire Then the two sat waiting The
great snoring breath was taken held awhile then given back There was a
space a long space Then they started The great snoring breath was taken
again He bent close down and looked at her
»Isnt it awful« whispered Annie
He nodded They sat down again helplessly Again came the great snoring
breath Again they hung suspended Again it was given back long and harsh The
sound so irregular at such wide intervals sounded through the house Morel
in his room slept on Paul and Annie sat crouched huddled motionless The
great snoring sound began again there was a painful pause while the breath was
held back came the rasping breath Minute after minute passed Paul looked at
her again bending low over her
»She may last like this« he said
They were both silent He looked out of the window and could faintly
discern the snow on the garden
»You go to my bed« he said to Annie »Ill sit up«
»No« she said »Ill stop with you«
»Id rather you didnt« he said
At last Annie crept out of the room and he was alone He hugged himself in
his brown blanket crouched in front of his mother watching She looked
dreadful with the bottom jaw fallen back He watched Sometimes he thought the
great breath would never begin again He could not bear it the waiting Then
suddenly startling him came the great harsh sound He mended the fire again
noiselessly She must not be disturbed The minutes went by The night was
going breath by breath Each time the sound came he felt it wring him till at
last he could not feel so much
His father got up Paul heard the miner drawing his stocking on yawning
Then Morel in shirt and stockings entered
»Hush« said Paul
Morel stood watching Then he looked at his son helplessly and in horror
»Had I better stop awhoam« he whispered
»No Go to work Shell last through tomorrow«
»I dont think so«
»Yes Go to work«
The miner looked at her again in fear and went obediently out of the room
Paul saw the tape of his garters swinging against his legs
After another halfhour Paul went downstairs and drank a cup of tea then
returned Morel dressed for the pit came upstairs again
»Am I to go« he said
»Yes«
And in a few minutes Paul heard his fathers heavy steps go thudding over
the deadening snow Miners called in the streets as they tramped in gangs to
work The terrible longdrawn breaths continued heave heave heave then a
long pause then ahhhhh as it came back Far away over the snow sounded
the hooters of the ironworks One after another they crowed and boomed some
small and far away some near the blowers of the collieries and the other
works Then there was silence He mended the fire The great breaths broke the
silence she looked just the same He put back the blind and peered out Still
it was dark Perhaps there was a lighter tinge Perhaps the snow was bluer He
drew up the blind and got dressed Then shuddering he drank brandy from the
bottle on the washstand The snow was growing blue He heard a cart clanking
down the street Yes it was seven oclock and it was coming a little bit
light He heard some people calling The world was waking A grey deathly dawn
crept over the snow Yes he could see the houses He put out the gas It seemed
very dark The breathing came still but he was almost used to it He could see
her She was just the same He wondered if he piled heavy clothes on top of her
it would stop He looked at her That was not her not her a bit If he piled
the blanket and heavy coats on her
Suddenly the door opened and Annie entered She looked at him
questioningly
»Just the same« he said calmly
They whispered together a minute then went downstairs to get breakfast It
was twenty to eight Soon Annie came down
»Isnt it awful Doesnt she look awful« she whispered dazed with horror
He nodded
»If she looks like that« said Annie
»Drink some tea« he said
They went upstairs again Soon the neighbours came with their frightened
question
»How is she«
It went on just the same She lay with her cheek in her hand her mouth
fallen open and the great ghastly snores came and went
At ten oclock nurse came She looked strange and woebegone
»Nurse« cried Paul »shell last like this for days«
»She cant Mr Morel« said nurse »She cant«
There was a silence
»Isnt it dreadful« wailed the nurse »Who would have thought she could
stand it Go down now Mr Morel go down«
At last at about eleven oclock he went downstairs and sat in the
neighbours house Annie was downstairs also Nurse and Arthur were upstairs
Paul sat with his head in his hand Suddenly Annie came flying across the yard
crying half mad
»Paul Paul shes gone«
In a second he was back in his own house and upstairs She lay curled up and
still with her face on her hand and nurse was wiping her mouth They all stood
back He kneeled down and put his face to hers and his arms round her
»My love my love oh my love« he whispered again and again »My love
oh my love«
Then he heard the nurse behind him crying saying
»Shes better Mr Morel shes better«
When he took his face up from his warm dead mother he went straight
downstairs and began blacking his boots
There was a good deal to do letters to write and so on The doctor came
and glanced at her and sighed
»Ay poor thing« he said then turned away »Well call at the surgery
about six for the certificate«
The father came home from work at about four oclock He dragged silently
into the house and sat down Minnie bustled to give him his dinner Tired he
laid his black arms on the table There were swede turnips for his dinner which
he liked Paul wondered if he knew It was some time and nobody had spoken At
last the son said
»You noticed the blinds were down«
Morel looked up
»No« he said »Why has she gone«
»Yes«
»When wor that«
»About twelve this morning«
»Hm«
The miner sat still for a moment then began his dinner It was as if
nothing had happened He ate his turnips in silence Afterwards he washed and
went upstairs to dress The door of her room was shut
»Have you seen her« Annie asked of him when he came down
»No« he said
In a little while he went out Annie went away and Paul called on the
undertaker the clergyman the doctor the registrar It was a long business He
got back at nearly eight oclock The undertaker was coming soon to measure for
the coffin The house was empty except for her He took a candle and went
upstairs
The room was cold that had been warm for so long Flowers bottles plates
all sickroom litter was taken away everything was harsh and austere She lay
raised on the bed the sweep of the sheet from the raised feet was like a clean
curve of snow so silent She lay like a maiden asleep With his candle in his
hand he bent over her She lay like a girl asleep and dreaming of her love The
mouth was a little open as if wondering from the suffering but her face was
young her brow clear and white as if life had never touched it He looked again
at the eyebrows at the small winsome nose a bit on one side She was young
again Only the hair as it arched so beautifully from her temples was mixed with
silver and the two simple plaits that lay on her shoulders were filigree of
silver and brown She would wake up She would lift her eyelids She was with
him still He bent and kissed her passionately But there was coldness against
his mouth He bit his lips with horror Looking at her he felt he could never
never let her go No He stroked the hair from her temples That too was cold
He saw the mouth so dumb and wondering at the hurt Then he crouched on the
floor whispering to her
»Mother mother«
He was still with her when the undertakers came young men who had been to
school with him They touched her reverently and in a quiet businesslike
fashion They did not look at her He watched jealously He and Annie guarded
her fiercely They would not let anybody come to see her and the neighbours
were offended
After a while Paul went out of the house and played cards at a friends It
was midnight when he got back His father rose from the couch as he entered
saying in a plaintive way
»I thought tha wor niver comin lad«
»I didnt think youd sit up« said Paul
His father looked so forlorn Morel had been a man without fear simply
nothing frightened him Paul realised with a start that he had been afraid to go
to bed alone in the house with his dead He was sorry
»I forgot youd be alone father« he said
»Dost want owt to eat« asked Morel
»No«
»Sithee I made thee a drop o hot milk Get it down thee its cold enough
for owt«
Paul drank it
After a while Morel went to bed He hurried past the closed door and left
his own door open Soon the son came upstairs also He went in to kiss her good
as usual It was cold and dark He wished they had kept her fire burning Still
she dreamed her young dream But she would be cold
»My dear« he whispered »My dear«
And he did not kiss her for fear she should be cold and strange to him It
eased him she slept so beautifully He shut her door softly not to wake her
and went to bed
In the morning Morel summoned his courage hearing Annie downstairs and Paul
coughing in the room across the landing He opened her door and went into the
darkened room He saw the white uplifted form in the twilight but her he dared
not see Bewildered too frightened to possess any of his faculties he got out
of the room again and left her He never looked at her again He had not seen
her for months because he had not dared to look And she looked like his young
wife again
»Have you seen her« Annie asked of him sharply after breakfast
»Yes« he said
»And dont you think she looks nice«
»Yes«
He went out of the house soon after And all the time he seemed to be
creeping aside to avoid it
Paul went about from place to place doing the business of the death He met
Clara in Nottingham and they had tea together in a café when they were quite
jolly again She was infinitely relieved to find he did not take it tragically
Later when the relatives began to come for the funeral the affair became
public and the children became social beings They put themselves aside They
buried her in a furious storm of rain and wind The wet clay glistened all the
white flowers were soaked Annie gripped his arm and leaned forward Down below
she saw a dark corner of Williams coffin The oak box sank steadily She was
gone The rain poured in the grave The procession of black with its umbrellas
glistening turned away The cemetery was deserted under the drenching cold
rain
Paul went home and busied himself supplying the guests with drinks His
father sat in the kitchen with Mrs Morels relatives superior people and
wept and said what a good lass shed been and how hed tried to do everything
he could for her everything He had striven all his life to do what he could
for her and hed nothing to reproach himself with She was gone but hed done
his best for her He wiped his eyes with his white handkerchief Hed nothing to
reproach himself for he repeated All his life hed done his best for her
And that was how he tried to dismiss her He never thought of her
personally Everything deep in him he denied Paul hated his father for sitting
sentimentalising over her He knew he would do it in the publichouses For the
real tragedy went on in Morel in spite of himself Sometimes later he came
down from his afternoon sleep white and cowering
»I have been dreaming of thy mother« he said in a small voice
»Have you father When I dream of her its always just as she was when she
was well I dream of her often but it seems quite nice and natural as if
nothing had altered«
But Morel crouched in front of the fire in terror
The weeks passed halfreal not much pain not much of anything perhaps a
little relief mostly a nuit blanche Paul went restless from place to place
For some months since his mother had been worse he had not made love to Clara
She was as it were dumb to him rather distant Dawes saw her very
occasionally but the two could not get an inch across the great distance
between them The three of them were drifting forward
Dawes mended very slowly He was in the convalescent home at Skegness at
Christmas nearly well again Paul went to the seaside for a few days His
father was with Annie in Sheffield Dawes came to Pauls lodgings His time in
the home was up The two men between whom was such a big reserve seemed
faithful to each other Dawes depended on Morel now He knew Paul and Clara had
practically separated
Two days after Christmas Paul was to go back to Nottingham The evening
before he sat with Dawes smoking before the fire
»You know Claras coming down for the day tomorrow« he said
The other man glanced at him
»Yes you told me« he replied
Paul drank the remainder of his glass of whisky
»I told the landlady your wife was coming« he said
»Did you« said Dawes shrinking but almost leaving himself in the others
hands He got up rather stiffly and reached for Morels glass
»Let me fill you up« he said
Paul jumped up
»You sit still« he said
But Dawes with rather shaky hand continued to mix the drink
»Say when« he said
»Thanks« replied the other »But youve no business to get up«
»It does me good lad« replied Dawes »I begin to think Im right again
then«
»You are about right you know«
»I am certainly I am« said Dawes nodding to him
»And Len says he can get you on in Sheffield«
Dawes glanced at him again with dark eyes that agreed with everything the
other would say perhaps a trifle dominated by him
»Its funny« said Paul »starting again I feel in a lot bigger mess than
you«
»In what way lad«
»I dont know I dont know Its as if I was in a tangled sort of hole
rather dark and dreary and no road anywhere«
»I know I understand it« Dawes said nodding »But youll find itll come
all right«
He spoke caressingly
»I suppose so« said Paul
Dawes knocked his pipe in a hopeless fashion
»Youve not done for yourself like I have« he said
Morel saw the wrist and the white hand of the other man gripping the stem of
the pipe and knocking out the ash as if he had given up
»How old are you« Paul asked
»Thirtynine« replied Dawes glancing at him
Those brown eyes full of the consciousness of failure almost pleading for
reassurance for someone to reestablish the man in himself to warm him to set
him up firm again troubled Paul
»Youll just be in your prime« said Morel »You dont look as if much life
had gone out of you«
The brown eyes of the other flashed suddenly
»It hasnt« he said »The go is there«
Paul looked up and laughed
»Weve both got plenty of life in us yet to make things fly« he said
The eyes of the two men met They exchanged one look Having recognised the
stress of passion each in the other they both drank their whisky
»Yes begod« said Dawes breathless
There was a pause
»And I dont see« said Paul »why you shouldnt go on where you left off«
»What « said Dawes suggestively
»Yes fit your old home together again«
Dawes hid his face and shook his head
»Couldnt be done« he said and looked up with an ironic smile
»Why Because you dont want«
»Perhaps«
They smoked in silence Dawes showed his teeth as he bit his pipe stem
»You mean you dont want her« asked Paul
Dawes stared up at the picture with a caustic expression on his face
»I hardly know« he said
The smoke floated softly up
»I believe she wants you« said Paul
»Do you« replied the other soft satirical abstract
»Yes She never really hitched on to me you were always there in the
background Thats why she wouldnt get a divorce«
Dawes continued to stare in a satirical fashion at the picture over the
mantelpiece
»Thats how women are with me« said Paul »They want me like mad but they
dont want to belong to me And she belonged to you all the time I knew«
The triumphant male came up in Dawes He showed his teeth more distinctly
»Perhaps I was a fool« he said
»You were a big fool« said Morel
»But perhaps even then you were a bigger fool« said Dawes
There was a touch of triumph and malice in it
»Do you think so« said Paul
They were silent for some time
»At any rate Im clearing out tomorrow« said Morel
»I see« answered Dawes
Then they did not talk any more The instinct to murder each other had
returned They almost avoided each other
They shared the same bedroom When they retired Dawes seemed abstract
thinking of something He sat on the side of the bed in his shirt looking at
his legs
»Arent you getting cold« asked Morel
»I was lookin at these legs« replied the other
»Whats up with em They look all right« replied Paul from his bed
»They look all right But theres some water in em yet«
»And what about it«
»Come and look«
Paul reluctantly got out of bed and went to look at the rather handsome legs
of the other man that were covered with glistening dark gold hair
»Look here« said Dawes pointing to his shin »Look at the water under
here«
»Where« said Paul
The man pressed in his fingertips They left little dents that filled up
slowly
»Its nothing« said Paul
»You feel« said Dawes
Paul tried with his fingers It made little dents
»Hm« he said
»Rotten isnt it« said Dawes
»Why Its nothing much«
»Youre not much of a man with water in your legs«
»I cant see as it makes any difference« said Morel »Ive got a weak
chest«
He returned to his own bed
»I suppose the rest of mes all right« said Dawes and he put out the
light
In the morning it was raining Morel packed his bag The sea was grey and
shaggy and dismal He seemed to be cutting himself off from life more and more
It gave him a wicked pleasure to do it
The two men were at the station Clara stepped out of the train and came
along the platform very erect and coldly composed She wore a long coat and a
tweed hat Both men hated her for her composure Paul shook hands with her at
the barrier Dawes was leaning against the bookstall watching His black
overcoat was buttoned up to the chin because of the rain He was pale with
almost a touch of nobility in his quietness He came forward limping slightly
»You ought to look better than this« she said
»Oh Im all right now«
The three stood at a loss She kept the two men hesitating near her
»Shall we go to the lodging straight off« said Paul »or somewhere else«
»We may as well go home« said Dawes
Paul walked on the outside of the pavement then Dawes then Clara They
made polite conversation The sittingroom faced the sea whose tide grey and
shaggy hissed not far off
Morel swung up the big armchair
»Sit down Jack« he said
»I dont want that chair« said Dawes
»Sit down« Morel repeated
Clara took off her things and laid them on the couch She had a slight air
of resentment Lifting her hair with her fingers she sat down rather aloof and
composed Paul ran downstairs to speak to the landlady
»I should think youre cold« said Dawes to his wife »Come nearer to the
fire«
»Thank you Im quite warm« she answered
She looked out of the window at the rain and at the sea
»When are you going back« she asked
»Well the rooms are taken until tomorrow so he wants me to stop Hes
going back tonight«
»And then youre thinking of going to Sheffield«
»Yes«
»Are you fit to start work«
»Im going to start«
»Youve really got a place«
»Yes begin on Monday«
»You dont look fit«
»Why dont I«
She looked again out of the window instead of answering
»And have you got lodgings in Sheffield«
»Yes«
Again she looked away out of the window The panes were blurred with
streaming rain
»And can you manage all right« she asked
»I sd think so I sll have to«
They were silent when Morel returned
»I shall go by the fourtwenty« he said as he entered
Nobody answered
»I wish youd take your boots off« he said to Clara
»Theres a pair of slippers of mine«
»Thank you« she said »They arent wet«
He put the slippers near her feet She left them there
Morel sat down Both the men seemed helpless and each of them had a rather
hunted look But Dawes now carried himself quietly seemed to yield himself
while Paul seemed to screw himself up Clara thought she had never seen him look
so small and mean He was as if trying to get himself into the smallest possible
compass And as he went about arranging and as he sat talking there seemed
something false about him and out of tune Watching him unknown she said to
herself there was no stability about him He was fine in his way passionate
and able to give her drinks of pure life when he was in one mood And now he
looked paltry and insignificant There was nothing stable about him Her husband
had more manly dignity At any rate he did not waft about with any wind There
was something evanescent about Morel she thought something shifting and false
He would never make sure ground for any woman to stand on She despised him
rather for his shrinking together getting smaller Her husband at least was
manly and when he was beaten gave in But this other would never own to being
beaten He would shift round and round prowl get smaller She despised him
And yet she watched him rather than Dawes and it seemed as if their three fates
lay in his hands She hated him for it
She seemed to understand better now about men and what they could or would
do She was less afraid of them more sure of herself That they were not the
small egoists she had imagined them made her more comfortable She had learned a
good deal almost as much as she wanted to learn Her cup had been full It was
still as full as she could carry On the whole she would not be sorry when he
was gone
They had dinner and sat eating nuts and drinking by the fire Not a serious
word had been spoken Yet Clara realised that Morel was withdrawing from the
circle leaving her the option to stay with her husband It angered her He was
a mean fellow after all to take what he wanted and then give her back She did
not remember that she herself had had what she wanted and really at the bottom
of her heart wished to be given back
Paul felt crumpled up and lonely His mother had really supported his life
He had loved her they two had in fact faced the world together Now she was
gone and for ever behind him was the gap in life the tear in the veil through
which his life seemed to drift slowly as if he were drawn towards death He
wanted someone of their own free initiative to help him The lesser things he
began to let go from him for fear of this big thing the lapse towards death
following in the wake of his beloved Clara could not stand for him to hold on
to She wanted him but not to understand him He felt she wanted the man on
top not the real him that was in trouble That would be too much trouble to
her he dared not give it her She could not cope with him It made him ashamed
So secretly ashamed because he was in such a mess because his own hold on life
was so unsure because nobody held him feeling unsubstantial shadowy as if he
did not count for much in this concrete world he drew himself together smaller
and smaller He did not want to die he would not give in But he was not afraid
of death If nobody would help he would go on alone
Dawes had been driven to the extremity of life until he was afraid He
could go to the brink of death he could lie on the edge and look in Then
cowed afraid he had to crawl back and like a beggar take what offered There
was a certain nobility in it As Clara saw he owned himself beaten and he
wanted to be taken back whether or not That she could do for him
It was three oclock
»I am going by the fourtwenty« said Paul again to Clara »Are you coming
then or later«
»I dont know« she said
»Im meeting my father in Nottingham at sevenfifteen« he said
»Then« she answered »Ill come later«
Dawes jerked suddenly as if he had been held on a strain He looked out
over the sea but he saw nothing
»There are one or two books in the corner« said Morel »Ive done with
em«
At about four oclock he went
»I shall see you both later« he said as he shook hands
»I suppose so« said Dawes »An perhaps one day I sll be able to pay
you back the money as «
»I shall come for it youll see« laughed Paul »I sll be on the rocks
before Im very much older«
»Ay well « said Dawes
»Goodbye« he said to Clara
»Goodbye« she said giving him her hand Then she glanced at him for the
last time dumb and humble
He was gone Dawes and his wife sat down again
»Its a nasty day for travelling« said the man
»Yes« she answered
They talked in a desultory fashion until it grew dark The landlady brought
in the tea Dawes drew up his chair to the table without being invited like a
husband Then he sat humbly waiting for his cup She served him as she would
like a wife not consulting his wish
After tea as it drew near to six oclock he went to the window All was
dark outside The sea was roaring
»Its raining yet« he said
»Is it« she answered
»You wont go tonight shall you« he said hesitating
She did not answer He waited
»I shouldnt go in this rain« he said
»Do you want me to stay« she asked
His hand as he held the dark curtain trembled
»Yes« he said
He remained with his back to her She rose and went slowly to him He let go
the curtain turned hesitating towards her She stood with her hands behind
her back looking up at him in a heavy inscrutable fashion
»Do you want me Baxter« she asked
His voice was hoarse as he answered
»Do you want to come back to me«
She made a moaning noise lifted her arms and put them round his neck
drawing him to her He hid his face on her shoulder holding her clasped
»Take me back« she whispered ecstatic »Take me back take me back« And
she put her fingers through his fine thin dark hair as if she were only
semiconscious He tightened his grasp on her
»Do you want me again« he murmured broken
Chapter XV
Derelict
Clara went with her husband to Sheffield and Paul scarcely saw her again
Walter Morel seemed to have let all the trouble go over him and there he was
crawling about on the mud of it just the same There was scarcely any bond
between father and son save that each felt he must not let the other go in any
actual want As there was no one to keep on the home and as they could neither
of them bear the emptiness of the house Paul took lodgings in Nottingham and
Morel went to live with a friendly family in Bestwood
Everything seemed to have gone smash for the young man He could not paint
The picture he finished on the day of his mothers death one that satisfied
him was the last thing he did At work there was no Clara When he came home
he could not take up his brushes again There was nothing left
So he was always in the town at one place or another drinking knocking
about with the men he knew It really wearied him He talked to barmaids to
almost any woman but there was that dark strained look in his eyes as if he
were hunting something
Everything seemed so different so unreal There seemed no reason why people
should go along the street and houses pile up in the daylight There seemed no
reason why these things should occupy the space instead of leaving it empty
His friends talked to him he heard the sounds and he answered But why there
should be the noise of speech he could not understand
He was most himself when he was alone or working hard and mechanically at
the factory In the latter case there was pure forgetfulness when he lapsed
from consciousness But it had to come to an end It hurt him so that things
had lost their reality The first snowdrops came He saw the tiny droppearls
among the grey They would have given him the liveliest emotion at one time Now
they were there but they did not seem to mean anything In a few moments they
would cease to occupy that place and just the space would be where they had
been Tall brilliant tramcars ran along the street at night It seemed almost
a wonder they should trouble to rustle backwards and forwards »Why trouble to
go tilting down to Trent Bridges« he asked of the big trams It seemed they
just as well might not be as be
The realest thing was the thick darkness at night That seemed to him whole
and comprehensible and restful He could leave himself to it Suddenly a piece
of paper started near his feet and blew along down the pavement He stood still
rigid with clenched fists a flame of agony going over him And he saw again
the sickroom his mother her eyes Unconsciously he had been with her in her
company The swift hop of the paper reminded him she was gone But he had been
with her He wanted everything to stand still so that he could be with her
again
The days passed the weeks But everything seemed to have fused gone into a
conglomerated mass He could not tell one day from another one week from
another hardly one place from another Nothing was distinct or distinguishable
Often he lost himself for an hour at a time could not remember what he had
done
One evening he came home late to his lodging The fire was burning low
everybody was in bed He threw on some more coal glanced at the table and
decided he wanted no supper Then he sat down in the armchair It was perfectly
still He did not know anything yet he saw the dim smoke wavering up the
chimney Presently two mice came out cautiously nibbling the fallen crumbs He
watched them as it were from a long way off The church clock struck two Far
away he could hear the sharp clinking of the trucks on the railway No it was
not they that were far away They were there in their places But where was he
himself
The time passed The two mice careering wildly scampered cheekily over his
slippers He had not moved a muscle He did not want to move He was not
thinking of anything It was easier so There was no wrench of knowing anything
Then from time to time some other consciousness working mechanically flashed
into sharp phrases
»What am I doing«
And out of the semiintoxicated trance came the answer
»Destroying myself«
Then a dull live feeling gone in an instant told him that it was wrong
After a while suddenly came the question
»Why wrong«
Again there was no answer but a stroke of hot stubbornness inside his chest
resisted his own annihilation
There was a sound of a heavy cart clanking down the road Suddenly the
electric light went out there was a bruising thud in the pennyintheslot
meter He did not stir but sat gazing in front of him Only the mice had
scuttled and the fire glowed red in the dark room
Then quite mechanically and more distinctly the conversation began again
inside him
»Shes dead What was it all for her struggle«
That was his despair wanting to go after her
»Youre alive«
»Shes not«
»She is in you«
Suddenly he felt tired with the burden of it
»Youve got to keep alive for her sake« said his will in him
Something felt sulky as if it would not rouse
»Youve got to carry forward her living and what she had done go on with
it«
But he did not want to He wanted to give up
»But you can go on with your painting« said the will in him »Or else you
can beget children They both carry on her effort«
»Painting is not living«
»Then live«
»Marry whom« came the sulky question
»As best you can«
»Miriam«
But he did not trust that
He rose suddenly went straight to bed When he got inside his bedroom and
closed the door he stood with clenched fist
»Mater my dear « he began with the whole force of his soul Then he
stopped He would not say it He would not admit that he wanted to die to have
done He would not own that life had beaten him or that death had beaten him
Going straight to bed he slept at once abandoning himself to the sleep
So the weeks went on Always alone his soul oscillated first on the side
of death then on the side of life doggedly The real agony was that he had
nowhere to go nothing to do nothing to say and was nothing himself Sometimes
he ran down the streets as if he were mad sometimes he was mad things werent
there things were there It made him pant Sometimes he stood before the bar of
the publichouse where he called for a drink Everything suddenly stood back
away from him He saw the face of the barmaid the gabbling drinkers his own
glass on the slopped mahogany board in the distance There was something
between him and them He could not get into touch He did not want them he did
not want his drink Turning abruptly he went out On the threshold he stood and
looked at the lighted street But he was not of it or in it Something separated
him Everything went on there below those lamps shut away from him He could
not get at them He felt he couldnt touch the lampposts not if he reached
Where could he go There was nowhere to go neither back into the inn or
forward anywhere He felt stifled There was nowhere for him The stress grew
inside him he felt he should smash
»I mustnt« he said and turning blindly he went in and drank Sometimes
the drink did him good sometimes it made him worse He ran down the road For
ever restless he went here there everywhere He determined to work But when
he had made six strokes he loathed the pencil violently got up and went away
hurried off to a club where he could play cards or billiards to a place where
he could flirt with a barmaid who was no more to him than the brass pumphandle
she drew
He was very thin and lanternjawed He dared not meet his own eyes in the
mirror he never looked at himself He wanted to get away from himself but
there was nothing to get hold of In despair he thought of Miriam Perhaps
perhaps
Then happening to go into the Unitarian Church one Sunday evening when
they stood up to sing the second hymn he saw her before him The light glistened
on her lower lip as she sang She looked as if she had got something at any
rate some hope in heaven if not in earth Her comfort and her life seemed in
the afterworld A warm strong feeling for her came up She seemed to yearn as
she sang for the mystery and comfort He put his hope in her He longed for the
sermon to be over to speak to her
The throng carried her out just before him He could nearly touch her She
did not know he was there He saw the brown humble nape of her neck under its
black curls He would leave himself to her She was better and bigger than he
He would depend on her
She went wandering in her blind way through the little throngs of people
outside the church She always looked so lost and out of place among people He
went forward and put his hand on her arm She started violently Her great brown
eyes dilated in fear then went questioning at the sight of him He shrank
slightly from her
»I didnt know « she faltered
»Nor I« he said
He looked away His sudden flaring hope sank again
»What are you doing in town« he asked
»Im staying at Cousin Annes«
»Ha For long«
»No only till tomorrow«
»Must you go straight home«
She looked at him then hid her face under her hatbrim
»No« she said »no its not necessary«
He turned away and she went with him They threaded through the throng of
church people The organ was still sounding in St Marys Dark figures came
through the lighted doors people were coming down the steps The large coloured
windows glowed up in the night The church was like a great lantern suspended
They went down Hollow Stone and he took the car for the Bridges
»You will just have supper with me« he said »then Ill bring you back«
»Very well« she replied low and husky
They scarcely spoke while they were on the car The Trent ran dark and full
under the bridge Away towards Colwick all was black night He lived down Holme
Road on the naked edge of the town facing across the river meadows towards
Sneinton Hermitage and the steep scrap of Colwick Wood The floods were out The
silent water and the darkness spread away on their left Almost afraid they
hurried along by the houses
Supper was laid He swung the curtain over the window There was a bowl of
freesias and scarlet anemones on the table She bent to them Still touching
them with her fingertips she looked up at him saying
»Arent they beautiful«
»Yes« he said »What will you drink coffee«
»I should like it« she said
»Then excuse me a moment«
He went out to the kitchen
Miriam took off her things and looked round It was a bare severe room Her
photo Claras Annies were on the wall She looked on the drawingboard to
see what he was doing There were only a few meaningless lines She looked to
see what books he was reading Evidently just an ordinary novel The letters in
the rack she saw were from Annie Arthur and from some man or other she did not
know Everything he had touched everything that was in the least personal to
him she examined with lingering absorption He had been gone from her for so
long she wanted to rediscover him his position what he was now But there was
not much in the room to help her It only made her feel rather sad it was so
hard and comfortless
She was curiously examining a sketchbook when he returned with the coffee
»Theres nothing new in it« he said »and nothing very interesting«
He put down the tray and went to look over her shoulder She turned the
pages slowly intent on examining everything
»Hm« he said as she paused at a sketch »Id forgotten that Its not
bad is it«
»No« she said »I dont quite understand it«
He took the book from her and went through it Again he made a curious sound
of surprise and pleasure
»Theres some not bad stuff in there« he said
»Not at all bad« she answered gravely
He felt again her interest in his work Or was it for himself Why was she
always most interested in him as he appeared in his work
They sat down to supper
»By the way« he said »didnt I hear something about your earning your own
living«
»Yes« she replied bowing her dark head over her cup
»And what of it«
»Im merely going to the farming college at Broughton for three months and
I shall probably be kept on as a teacher there«
»I say that sounds all right for you You always wanted to be
independent«
»Yes«
»Why didnt you tell me«
»I only knew last week«
»But I heard a month ago« he said
»Yes but nothing was settled then«
»I should have thought« he said »youd have told me you were trying«
She ate her food in the deliberate constrained way almost as if she
recoiled a little from doing anything so publicly that he knew so well
»I suppose youre glad« he said
»Very glad«
»Yes it will be something«
He was rather disappointed
»I think it will be a great deal« she said almost haughtily resentfully
He laughed shortly
»Why do you think it wont« she asked
»Oh I dont think it wont be a great deal Only youll find earning your
own living isnt everything«
»No« she said swallowing with difficulty »I dont suppose it is«
»I suppose work can be nearly everything to a man« he said »though it
isnt to me But a woman only works with a part of herself The real and vital
part is covered up«
»But a man can give all himself to work« she asked
»Yes practically«
»And a woman only the unimportant part of herself«
»Thats it«
She looked up at him and her eyes dilated with anger
»Then« she said »if its true its a great shame«
»It is But I dont know everything« he answered
After supper they drew up to the fire He swung her a chair facing him and
they sat down She was wearing a dress of dark claret colour that suited her
dark complexion and her large features Still the curls were fine and free but
her face was much older the brown throat much thinner She seemed old to him
older than Clara Her bloom of youth had quickly gone A sort of stiffness
almost of woodenness had come upon her She meditated a little while then
looked at him
»And how are things with you« she asked
»About all right« he answered
She looked at him waiting
»Nay« she said very low
Her brown nervous hands were clasped over her knee They had still the lack
of confidence or repose the almost hysterical look He winced as he saw them
Then he laughed mirthlessly She put her fingers between her lips His slim
black tortured body lay quite still in the chair She suddenly took her finger
from her mouth and looked at him
»And you have broken off with Clara«
»Yes«
His body lay like an abandoned thing strewn in the chair
»You know« she said »I think we ought to be married«
He opened his eyes for the first time since many months and attended to her
with respect
»Why« he said
»See« she said »how you waste yourself You might be ill you might die
and I never know be no more then than if I had never know you«
»And if we married« he asked
»At any rate I could prevent you wasting yourself and being a prey to other
women like like Clara«
»A prey« he repeated smiling
She bowed her head in silence He lay feeling his despair come up again
»Im not sure« he said slowly »that marriage would be much good«
»I only think of you« she replied
»I know you do But you love me so much you want to put me in your
pocket And I should die there smothered«
She bent her head put her fingers between her lips while the bitterness
surged up in her heart
»And what will you do otherwise« she asked
»I dont know go on I suppose Perhaps I shall soon go abroad«
The despairing doggedness in his tone made her go on her knees on the rug
before the fire very near to him There she crouched as if she were crushed by
something and could not raise her head His hands lay quite inert on the arms
of his chair She was aware of them She felt that now he lay at her mercy If
she could rise take him put her arms round him and say »You are mine« then
he would leave himself to her But dare she She could easily sacrifice herself
But dare she assert herself She was aware of his darkclothed slender body
that seemed one stroke of life sprawled in the chair close to her But no she
dared not put her arms round it take it up and say »It is mine this body
Leave it to me« And she wanted to It called to all her womans instinct But
she crouched and dared not She was afraid he would not let her She was afraid
it was too much It lay there his body abandoned She knew she ought to take
it up and claim it and claim every right to it But could she do it Her
impotence before him before the strong demand of some unknown thing in him was
her extremity Her hands fluttered she halflifted her head Her eyes
shuddering appealing gone almost distracted pleaded to him suddenly His
heart caught with pity He took her hands drew her to him and comforted her
»Will you have me to marry me« he said very low
Oh why did not he take her Her very soul belonged to him Why would he not
take what was his She had borne so long the cruelty of belonging to him and not
being claimed by him Now he was straining her again It was too much for her
She drew back her head held his face between her hands and looked him in the
eyes No he was hard He wanted something else She pleaded to him with all her
love not to make it her choice She could not cope with it with him she knew
not with what But it strained her till she felt she would break
»Do you want it« she asked very gravely
»Not much« he replied with pain
She turned her face aside then raising herself with dignity she took his
head to her bosom and rocked him softly She was not to have him then So she
could comfort him She put her fingers through his hair For her the anguished
sweetness of self-sacrifice For him the hate and misery of another failure He
could not bear it that breast which was warm and which cradled him without
taking the burden of him So much he wanted to rest on her that the feint of
rest only tortured him He drew away
»And without marriage we can do nothing« he asked
His mouth was lifted from his teeth with pain She put her little finger
between her lips
»No« she said low and like the toll of a bell »No I think not«
It was the end then between them She could not take him and relieve him of
the responsibility of himself She could only sacrifice herself to him
sacrifice herself every day gladly And that he did not want He wanted her to
hold him and say with joy and authority »Stop all this restlessness and
beating against death You are mine for a mate« She had not the strength Or
was it a mate she wanted or did she want a Christ in him
He felt in leaving her he was defrauding her of life But he knew that in
staying stifling the inner desperate man he was denying his own life And he
did not hope to give life to her by denying his own
She sat very quiet He lit a cigarette The smoke went up from it wavering
He was thinking of his mother and had forgotten Miriam She suddenly looked at
him Her bitterness came surging up Her sacrifice then was useless He lay
there aloof careless about her Suddenly she saw again his lack of religion
his restless instability He would destroy himself like a perverse child Well
then he would
»I think I must go« she said softly
By her tone he knew she was despising him He rose quietly
»Ill come along with you« he answered
She stood before the mirror pinning on her hat How bitter how unutterably
bitter it made her that he rejected her sacrifice Life ahead looked dead as
if the glow were gone out She bowed her face over the flowers the freesias so
sweet and springlike the scarlet anemones flaunting over the table It was
like him to have those flowers
He moved about the room with a certain sureness of touch swift and
relentless and quiet She knew she could not cope with him He would escape like
a weasel out of her hands Yet without him her life would trail on lifeless
Brooding she touched the flowers
»Have them« he said and he took them out of the jar dripping as they
were and went quickly into the kitchen She waited for him took the flowers
and they went out together he talking she feeling dead
She was going from him now In her misery she leaned against him as they sat
on the car He was unresponsive Where would he go What would be the end of
him She could not bear it the vacant feeling where he should be He was so
foolish so wasteful never at peace with himself And now where would he go
And what did he care that he wasted her He had no religion it was all for the
moments attraction that he cared nothing else nothing deeper Well she would
wait and see how it turned out with him When he had had enough he would give in
and come to her
He shook hands and left her at the door of her cousins house When he
turned away he felt the last hold for him had gone The town as he sat upon the
car stretched away over the bay of railway a level fume of lights Beyond the
town the country little smouldering spots for more towns the sea the night
on and on And he had no place in it Whatever spot he stood on there he
stood alone From his breast from his mouth sprang the endless space, and it
was there behind him everywhere The people hurrying along the streets offered
no obstruction to the void in which he found himself They were small shadows
whose footsteps and voices could be heard but in each of them the same night
the same silence He got off the car In the country all was dead still Little
stars shone high up little stars spread far away in the floodwaters a
firmament below Everywhere the vastness and terror of the immense night which
is roused and stirred for a brief while by the day but which returns and will
remain at last eternal holding everything in its silence and its living gloom
There was no Time only Space Who could say his mother had lived and did not
live She had been in one place and was in another that was all And his soul
could not leave her wherever she was Now she was gone abroad into the night
and he was with her still They were together But yet there was his body his
chest that leaned against the stile his hands on the wooden bar They seemed
something Where was he one tiny upright speck of flesh less than an ear of
wheat lost in the field He could not bear it On every side the immense dark
silence seemed pressing him so tiny a spark into extinction and yet almost
nothing he could not be extinct Night in which everything was lost went
reaching out beyond stars and sun Stars and sun a few bright grains went
spinning round for terror and holding each other in embrace there in a
darkness that outpassed them all and left them tiny and daunted So much and
himself infinitesimal at the core a nothingness and yet not nothing
»Mother« he whispered »mother«
She was the only thing that held him up himself amid all this And she was
gone intermingled herself He wanted her to touch him have him alongside with
her
But no he would not give in Turning sharply he walked towards the citys
gold phosphorescence His fists were shut his mouth set fast He would not take
that direction to the darkness to follow her He walked towards the faintly
humming glowing town quickly
1 Sorry is a common form of address It is perhaps a corruption of sirrah