Women
in
Love
by
D
.
H
.
Lawrence
London
,
Martin
Secker
Number
five
John
Street
Adelphi
CHAPTER
I
.
SISTERS
Ursula
and
Gudrun
Brangwen
sat
one
morning
in
the
window-bay
of
their
father’s
house
in
Beldover
,
working
and
talking
.
Ursula
was
stitching
a
piece
of
brightly-coloured
embroidery
,
and
Gudrun
was
drawing
upon
a
board
which
she
held
on
her
knee
.
They
were
mostly
silent
,
talking
as
their
thoughts
strayed
through
their
minds
.
“
Ursula
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
“
don’t
you
really
want
to
get
married
?
”
Ursula
laid
her
embroidery
in
her
lap
and
looked
up
.
Her
face
was
calm
and
considerate
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
she
replied
.
“
It
depends
how
you
mean
.
”
Gudrun
was
slightly
taken
aback
.
She
watched
her
sister
for
some
moments
.
“
Well
,
”
she
said
,
ironically
,
“
it
usually
means
one
thing
!
But
don’t
you
think
anyhow
,
you’d
be
—
”
she
darkened
slightly
—
“
in
a
better
position
than
you
are
in
now
.
”
A
shadow
came
over
Ursula’s
face
.
“
I
might
,
”
she
said
.
“
But
I’m
not
sure
.
”
Again
Gudrun
paused
,
slightly
irritated
.
She
wanted
to
be
quite
definite
.
“
You
don’t
think
one
needs
the
experience
of
having
been
married
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Do
you
think
it
need
be
an
experience
?
”
replied
Ursula
.
“
Bound
to
be
,
in
some
way
or
other
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
coolly
.
“
Possibly
undesirable
,
but
bound
to
be
an
experience
of
some
sort
.
”
“
Not
really
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
More
likely
to
be
the
end
of
experience
.
”
Gudrun
sat
very
still
,
to
attend
to
this
.
“
Of
course
,
”
she
said
,
“
there’s
that
to
consider
.
”
This
brought
the
conversation
to
a
close
.
Gudrun
,
almost
angrily
,
took
up
her
rubber
and
began
to
rub
out
part
of
her
drawing
.
Ursula
stitched
absorbedly
.
“
You
wouldn’t
consider
a
good
offer
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
I
think
I’ve
rejected
several
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Really
!
”
Gudrun
flushed
dark
—
“
But
anything
really
worth
while
?
Have
you
really
?
”
“
A
thousand
a
year
,
and
an
awfully
nice
man
.
I
liked
him
awfully
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Really
!
But
weren’t
you
fearfully
tempted
?
”
“
In
the
abstract
but
not
in
the
concrete
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
When
it
comes
to
the
point
,
one
isn’t
even
tempted
—
oh
,
if
I
were
tempted
,
I’d
marry
like
a
shot
.
I’m
only
tempted
not
to
.
”
The
faces
of
both
sisters
suddenly
lit
up
with
amusement
.
“
Isn’t
it
an
amazing
thing
,
”
cried
Gudrun
,
“
how
strong
the
temptation
is
,
not
to
!
”
They
both
laughed
,
looking
at
each
other
.
In
their
hearts
they
were
frightened
.
There
was
a
long
pause
,
whilst
Ursula
stitched
and
Gudrun
went
on
with
her
sketch
.
The
sisters
were
women
,
Ursula
twenty-six
,
and
Gudrun
twenty-five
.
But
both
had
the
remote
,
virgin
look
of
modern
girls
,
sisters
of
Artemis
rather
than
of
Hebe
.
Gudrun
was
very
beautiful
,
passive
,
soft-skinned
,
soft-limbed
.
She
wore
a
dress
of
dark-blue
silky
stuff
,
with
ruches
of
blue
and
green
linen
lace
in
the
neck
and
sleeves
;
and
she
had
emerald-green
stockings
.
Her
look
of
confidence
and
diffidence
contrasted
with
Ursula’s
sensitive
expectancy
.
The
provincial
people
,
intimidated
by
Gudrun’s
perfect
sang-froid
and
exclusive
bareness
of
manner
,
said
of
her
:
“
She
is
a
smart
woman
.
”
She
had
just
come
back
from
London
,
where
she
had
spent
several
years
,
working
at
an
art-school
,
as
a
student
,
and
living
a
studio
life
.
“
I
was
hoping
now
for
a
man
to
come
along
,
”
Gudrun
said
,
suddenly
catching
her
underlip
between
her
teeth
,
and
making
a
strange
grimace
,
half
sly
smiling
,
half
anguish
.
Ursula
was
afraid
.
“
So
you
have
come
home
,
expecting
him
here
?
”
she
laughed
.
“
Oh
my
dear
,
”
cried
Gudrun
,
strident
,
“
I
wouldn’t
go
out
of
my
way
to
look
for
him
.
But
if
there
did
happen
to
come
along
a
highly
attractive
individual
of
sufficient
means
—
well
—
”
she
tailed
off
ironically
.
Then
she
looked
searchingly
at
Ursula
,
as
if
to
probe
her
.
“
Don’t
you
find
yourself
getting
bored
?
”
she
asked
of
her
sister
.
“
Don’t
you
find
,
that
things
fail
to
materialize
?
Nothing
materializes
!
Everything
withers
in
the
bud
.
”
“
What
withers
in
the
bud
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
“
Oh
,
everything
—
oneself
—
things
in
general
.
”
There
was
a
pause
,
whilst
each
sister
vaguely
considered
her
fate
.
“
It
does
frighten
one
,
”
said
Ursula
,
and
again
there
was
a
pause
.
“
But
do
you
hope
to
get
anywhere
by
just
marrying
?
”
“
It
seems
to
be
the
inevitable
next
step
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
Ursula
pondered
this
,
with
a
little
bitterness
.
She
was
a
class
mistress
herself
,
in
Willey
Green
Grammar
School
,
as
she
had
been
for
some
years
.
“
I
know
,
”
she
said
,
“
it
seems
like
that
when
one
thinks
in
the
abstract
.
But
really
imagine
it
:
imagine
any
man
one
knows
,
imagine
him
coming
home
to
one
every
evening
,
and
saying
‘Hello
,
’
and
giving
one
a
kiss
—
”
There
was
a
blank
pause
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
in
a
narrowed
voice
.
“
It’s
just
impossible
.
The
man
makes
it
impossible
.
”
“
Of
course
there’s
children
—
”
said
Ursula
doubtfully
.
Gudrun’s
face
hardened
.
“
Do
you
really
want
children
,
Ursula
?
”
she
asked
coldly
.
A
dazzled
,
baffled
look
came
on
Ursula’s
face
.
“
One
feels
it
is
still
beyond
one
,
”
she
said
.
“
Do
you
feel
like
that
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
I
get
no
feeling
whatever
from
the
thought
of
bearing
children
.
”
Gudrun
looked
at
Ursula
with
a
masklike
,
expressionless
face
.
Ursula
knitted
her
brows
.
“
Perhaps
it
isn’t
genuine
,
”
she
faltered
.
“
Perhaps
one
doesn’t
really
want
them
,
in
one’s
soul
—
only
superficially
.
”
A
hardness
came
over
Gudrun’s
face
.
She
did
not
want
to
be
too
definite
.
“
When
one
thinks
of
other
people’s
children
—
”
said
Ursula
.
Again
Gudrun
looked
at
her
sister
,
almost
hostile
.
“
Exactly
,
”
she
said
,
to
close
the
conversation
.
The
two
sisters
worked
on
in
silence
,
Ursula
having
always
that
strange
brightness
of
an
essential
flame
that
is
caught
,
meshed
,
contravened
.
She
lived
a
good
deal
by
herself
,
to
herself
,
working
,
passing
on
from
day
to
day
,
and
always
thinking
,
trying
to
lay
hold
on
life
,
to
grasp
it
in
her
own
understanding
.
Her
active
living
was
suspended
,
but
underneath
,
in
the
darkness
,
something
was
coming
to
pass
.
If
only
she
could
break
through
the
last
integuments
!
She
seemed
to
try
and
put
her
hands
out
,
like
an
infant
in
the
womb
,
and
she
could
not
,
not
yet
.
Still
she
had
a
strange
prescience
,
an
intimation
of
something
yet
to
come
.
She
laid
down
her
work
and
looked
at
her
sister
.
She
thought
Gudrun
so
charming
,
so
infinitely
charming
,
in
her
softness
and
her
fine
,
exquisite
richness
of
texture
and
delicacy
of
line
.
There
was
a
certain
playfulness
about
her
too
,
such
a
piquancy
or
ironic
suggestion
,
such
an
untouched
reserve
.
Ursula
admired
her
with
all
her
soul
.
“
Why
did
you
come
home
,
Prune
?
”
she
asked
.
Gudrun
knew
she
was
being
admired
.
She
sat
back
from
her
drawing
and
looked
at
Ursula
,
from
under
her
finely-curved
lashes
.
“
Why
did
I
come
back
,
Ursula
?
”
she
repeated
.
“
I
have
asked
myself
a
thousand
times
.
”
“
And
don’t
you
know
?
”
“
Yes
,
I
think
I
do
.
I
think
my
coming
back
home
was
just
reculer
pour
mieux
sauter
.
”
And
she
looked
with
a
long
,
slow
look
of
knowledge
at
Ursula
.
“
I
know
!
”
cried
Ursula
,
looking
slightly
dazzled
and
falsified
,
and
as
if
she
did
not
know
.
“
But
where
can
one
jump
to
?
”
“
Oh
,
it
doesn’t
matter
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
somewhat
superbly
.
“
If
one
jumps
over
the
edge
,
one
is
bound
to
land
somewhere
.
”
“
But
isn’t
it
very
risky
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
A
slow
mocking
smile
dawned
on
Gudrun’s
face
.
“
Ah
!
”
she
said
laughing
.
“
What
is
it
all
but
words
!
”
And
so
again
she
closed
the
conversation
.
But
Ursula
was
still
brooding
.
“
And
how
do
you
find
home
,
now
you
have
come
back
to
it
?
”
she
asked
.
Gudrun
paused
for
some
moments
,
coldly
,
before
answering
.
Then
,
in
a
cold
truthful
voice
,
she
said
:
“
I
find
myself
completely
out
of
it
.
”
“
And
father
?
”
Gudrun
looked
at
Ursula
,
almost
with
resentment
,
as
if
brought
to
bay
.
“
I
haven’t
thought
about
him
:
I’ve
refrained
,
”
she
said
coldly
.
“
Yes
,
”
wavered
Ursula
;
and
the
conversation
was
really
at
an
end
.
The
sisters
found
themselves
confronted
by
a
void
,
a
terrifying
chasm
,
as
if
they
had
looked
over
the
edge
.
They
worked
on
in
silence
for
some
time
,
Gudrun’s
cheek
was
flushed
with
repressed
emotion
.
She
resented
its
having
been
called
into
being
.
“
Shall
we
go
out
and
look
at
that
wedding
?
”
she
asked
at
length
,
in
a
voice
that
was
too
casual
.
“
Yes
!
”
cried
Ursula
,
too
eagerly
,
throwing
aside
her
sewing
and
leaping
up
,
as
if
to
escape
something
,
thus
betraying
the
tension
of
the
situation
and
causing
a
friction
of
dislike
to
go
over
Gudrun’s
nerves
.
As
she
went
upstairs
,
Ursula
was
aware
of
the
house
,
of
her
home
round
about
her
.
And
she
loathed
it
,
the
sordid
,
too-familiar
place
!
She
was
afraid
at
the
depth
of
her
feeling
against
the
home
,
the
milieu
,
the
whole
atmosphere
and
condition
of
this
obsolete
life
.
Her
feeling
frightened
her
.
The
two
girls
were
soon
walking
swiftly
down
the
main
road
of
Beldover
,
a
wide
street
,
part
shops
,
part
dwelling-houses
,
utterly
formless
and
sordid
,
without
poverty
.
Gudrun
,
new
from
her
life
in
Chelsea
and
Sussex
,
shrank
cruelly
from
this
amorphous
ugliness
of
a
small
colliery
town
in
the
Midlands
.
Yet
forward
she
went
,
through
the
whole
sordid
gamut
of
pettiness
,
the
long
amorphous
,
gritty
street
.
She
was
exposed
to
every
stare
,
she
passed
on
through
a
stretch
of
torment
.
It
was
strange
that
she
should
have
chosen
to
come
back
and
test
the
full
effect
of
this
shapeless
,
barren
ugliness
upon
herself
.
Why
had
she
wanted
to
submit
herself
to
it
,
did
she
still
want
to
submit
herself
to
it
,
the
insufferable
torture
of
these
ugly
,
meaningless
people
,
this
defaced
countryside
?
She
felt
like
a
beetle
toiling
in
the
dust
.
She
was
filled
with
repulsion
.
They
turned
off
the
main
road
,
past
a
black
patch
of
common-garden
,
where
sooty
cabbage
stumps
stood
shameless
.
No
one
thought
to
be
ashamed
.
No
one
was
ashamed
of
it
all
.
“
It
is
like
a
country
in
an
underworld
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
The
colliers
bring
it
above-ground
with
them
,
shovel
it
up
.
Ursula
,
it’s
marvellous
,
it’s
really
marvellous
—
it’s
really
wonderful
,
another
world
.
The
people
are
all
ghouls
,
and
everything
is
ghostly
.
Everything
is
a
ghoulish
replica
of
the
real
world
,
a
replica
,
a
ghoul
,
all
soiled
,
everything
sordid
.
It’s
like
being
mad
,
Ursula
.
”
The
sisters
were
crossing
a
black
path
through
a
dark
,
soiled
field
.
On
the
left
was
a
large
landscape
,
a
valley
with
collieries
,
and
opposite
hills
with
cornfields
and
woods
,
all
blackened
with
distance
,
as
if
seen
through
a
veil
of
crape
.
White
and
black
smoke
rose
up
in
steady
columns
,
magic
within
the
dark
air
.
Near
at
hand
came
the
long
rows
of
dwellings
,
approaching
curved
up
the
hill-slope
,
in
straight
lines
along
the
brow
of
the
hill
.
They
were
of
darkened
red
brick
,
brittle
,
with
dark
slate
roofs
.
The
path
on
which
the
sisters
walked
was
black
,
trodden-in
by
the
feet
of
the
recurrent
colliers
,
and
bounded
from
the
field
by
iron
fences
;
the
stile
that
led
again
into
the
road
was
rubbed
shiny
by
the
moleskins
of
the
passing
miners
.
Now
the
two
girls
were
going
between
some
rows
of
dwellings
,
of
the
poorer
sort
.
Women
,
their
arms
folded
over
their
coarse
aprons
,
standing
gossiping
at
the
end
of
their
block
,
stared
after
the
Brangwen
sisters
with
that
long
,
unwearying
stare
of
aborigines
;
children
called
out
names
.
Gudrun
went
on
her
way
half
dazed
.
If
this
were
human
life
,
if
these
were
human
beings
,
living
in
a
complete
world
,
then
what
was
her
own
world
,
outside
?
She
was
aware
of
her
grass-green
stockings
,
her
large
grass-green
velour
hat
,
her
full
soft
coat
,
of
a
strong
blue
colour
.
And
she
felt
as
if
she
were
treading
in
the
air
,
quite
unstable
,
her
heart
was
contracted
,
as
if
at
any
minute
she
might
be
precipitated
to
the
ground
.
She
was
afraid
.
She
clung
to
Ursula
,
who
,
through
long
usage
was
inured
to
this
violation
of
a
dark
,
uncreated
,
hostile
world
.
But
all
the
time
her
heart
was
crying
,
as
if
in
the
midst
of
some
ordeal
:
“
I
want
to
go
back
,
I
want
to
go
away
,
I
want
not
to
know
it
,
not
to
know
that
this
exists
.
”
Yet
she
must
go
forward
.
Ursula
could
feel
her
suffering
.
“
You
hate
this
,
don’t
you
?
”
she
asked
.
“
It
bewilders
me
,
”
stammered
Gudrun
.
“
You
won’t
stay
long
,
”
replied
Ursula
.
And
Gudrun
went
along
,
grasping
at
release
.
They
drew
away
from
the
colliery
region
,
over
the
curve
of
the
hill
,
into
the
purer
country
of
the
other
side
,
towards
Willey
Green
.
Still
the
faint
glamour
of
blackness
persisted
over
the
fields
and
the
wooded
hills
,
and
seemed
darkly
to
gleam
in
the
air
.
It
was
a
spring
day
,
chill
,
with
snatches
of
sunshine
.
Yellow
celandines
showed
out
from
the
hedge-bottoms
,
and
in
the
cottage
gardens
of
Willey
Green
,
currant-bushes
were
breaking
into
leaf
,
and
little
flowers
were
coming
white
on
the
grey
alyssum
that
hung
over
the
stone
walls
.
Turning
,
they
passed
down
the
high-road
,
that
went
between
high
banks
towards
the
church
.
There
,
in
the
lowest
bend
of
the
road
,
low
under
the
trees
,
stood
a
little
group
of
expectant
people
,
waiting
to
see
the
wedding
.
The
daughter
of
the
chief
mine-owner
of
the
district
,
Thomas
Crich
,
was
getting
married
to
a
naval
officer
.
“
Let
us
go
back
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
swerving
away
.
“
There
are
all
those
people
.
”
And
she
hung
wavering
in
the
road
.
“
Never
mind
them
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
they’re
all
right
.
They
all
know
me
,
they
don’t
matter
.
”
“
But
must
we
go
through
them
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
They’re
quite
all
right
,
really
,
”
said
Ursula
,
going
forward
.
And
together
the
two
sisters
approached
the
group
of
uneasy
,
watchful
common
people
.
They
were
chiefly
women
,
colliers’
wives
of
the
more
shiftless
sort
.
They
had
watchful
,
underworld
faces
.
The
two
sisters
held
themselves
tense
,
and
went
straight
towards
the
gate
.
The
women
made
way
for
them
,
but
barely
sufficient
,
as
if
grudging
to
yield
ground
.
The
sisters
passed
in
silence
through
the
stone
gateway
and
up
the
steps
,
on
the
red
carpet
,
a
policeman
estimating
their
progress
.
“
What
price
the
stockings
!
”
said
a
voice
at
the
back
of
Gudrun
.
A
sudden
fierce
anger
swept
over
the
girl
,
violent
and
murderous
.
She
would
have
liked
them
all
annihilated
,
cleared
away
,
so
that
the
world
was
left
clear
for
her
.
How
she
hated
walking
up
the
churchyard
path
,
along
the
red
carpet
,
continuing
in
motion
,
in
their
sight
.
“
I
won’t
go
into
the
church
,
”
she
said
suddenly
,
with
such
final
decision
that
Ursula
immediately
halted
,
turned
round
,
and
branched
off
up
a
small
side
path
which
led
to
the
little
private
gate
of
the
Grammar
School
,
whose
grounds
adjoined
those
of
the
church
.
Just
inside
the
gate
of
the
school
shrubbery
,
outside
the
churchyard
,
Ursula
sat
down
for
a
moment
on
the
low
stone
wall
under
the
laurel
bushes
,
to
rest
.
Behind
her
,
the
large
red
building
of
the
school
rose
up
peacefully
,
the
windows
all
open
for
the
holiday
.
Over
the
shrubs
,
before
her
,
were
the
pale
roofs
and
tower
of
the
old
church
.
The
sisters
were
hidden
by
the
foliage
.
Gudrun
sat
down
in
silence
.
Her
mouth
was
shut
close
,
her
face
averted
.
She
was
regretting
bitterly
that
she
had
ever
come
back
.
Ursula
looked
at
her
,
and
thought
how
amazingly
beautiful
she
was
,
flushed
with
discomfiture
.
But
she
caused
a
constraint
over
Ursula’s
nature
,
a
certain
weariness
.
Ursula
wished
to
be
alone
,
freed
from
the
tightness
,
the
enclosure
of
Gudrun’s
presence
.
“
Are
we
going
to
stay
here
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
I
was
only
resting
a
minute
,
”
said
Ursula
,
getting
up
as
if
rebuked
.
“
We
will
stand
in
the
corner
by
the
fives-court
,
we
shall
see
everything
from
there
.
”
For
the
moment
,
the
sunshine
fell
brightly
into
the
churchyard
,
there
was
a
vague
scent
of
sap
and
of
spring
,
perhaps
of
violets
from
off
the
graves
.
Some
white
daisies
were
out
,
bright
as
angels
.
In
the
air
,
the
unfolding
leaves
of
a
copper-beech
were
blood-red
.
Punctually
at
eleven
o’clock
,
the
carriages
began
to
arrive
.
There
was
a
stir
in
the
crowd
at
the
gate
,
a
concentration
as
a
carriage
drove
up
,
wedding
guests
were
mounting
up
the
steps
and
passing
along
the
red
carpet
to
the
church
.
They
were
all
gay
and
excited
because
the
sun
was
shining
.
Gudrun
watched
them
closely
,
with
objective
curiosity
.
She
saw
each
one
as
a
complete
figure
,
like
a
character
in
a
book
,
or
a
subject
in
a
picture
,
or
a
marionette
in
a
theatre
,
a
finished
creation
.
She
loved
to
recognise
their
various
characteristics
,
to
place
them
in
their
true
light
,
give
them
their
own
surroundings
,
settle
them
for
ever
as
they
passed
before
her
along
the
path
to
the
church
.
She
knew
them
,
they
were
finished
,
sealed
and
stamped
and
finished
with
,
for
her
.
There
was
none
that
had
anything
unknown
,
unresolved
,
until
the
Criches
themselves
began
to
appear
.
Then
her
interest
was
piqued
.
Here
was
something
not
quite
so
preconcluded
.
There
came
the
mother
,
Mrs
Crich
,
with
her
eldest
son
Gerald
.
She
was
a
queer
unkempt
figure
,
in
spite
of
the
attempts
that
had
obviously
been
made
to
bring
her
into
line
for
the
day
.
Her
face
was
pale
,
yellowish
,
with
a
clear
,
transparent
skin
,
she
leaned
forward
rather
,
her
features
were
strongly
marked
,
handsome
,
with
a
tense
,
unseeing
,
predative
look
.
Her
colourless
hair
was
untidy
,
wisps
floating
down
on
to
her
sac
coat
of
dark
blue
silk
,
from
under
her
blue
silk
hat
.
She
looked
like
a
woman
with
a
monomania
,
furtive
almost
,
but
heavily
proud
.
Her
son
was
of
a
fair
,
sun-tanned
type
,
rather
above
middle
height
,
well-made
,
and
almost
exaggeratedly
well-dressed
.
But
about
him
also
was
the
strange
,
guarded
look
,
the
unconscious
glisten
,
as
if
he
did
not
belong
to
the
same
creation
as
the
people
about
him
.
Gudrun
lighted
on
him
at
once
.
There
was
something
northern
about
him
that
magnetised
her
.
In
his
clear
northern
flesh
and
his
fair
hair
was
a
glisten
like
sunshine
refracted
through
crystals
of
ice
.
And
he
looked
so
new
,
unbroached
,
pure
as
an
arctic
thing
.
Perhaps
he
was
thirty
years
old
,
perhaps
more
.
His
gleaming
beauty
,
maleness
,
like
a
young
,
good-humoured
,
smiling
wolf
,
did
not
blind
her
to
the
significant
,
sinister
stillness
in
his
bearing
,
the
lurking
danger
of
his
unsubdued
temper
.
“
His
totem
is
the
wolf
,
”
she
repeated
to
herself
.
“
His
mother
is
an
old
,
unbroken
wolf
.
”
And
then
she
experienced
a
keen
paroxyism
,
a
transport
,
as
if
she
had
made
some
incredible
discovery
,
known
to
nobody
else
on
earth
.
A
strange
transport
took
possession
of
her
,
all
her
veins
were
in
a
paroxysm
of
violent
sensation
.
“
Good
God
!
”
she
exclaimed
to
herself
,
“
what
is
this
?
”
And
then
,
a
moment
after
,
she
was
saying
assuredly
,
“
I
shall
know
more
of
that
man
.
”
She
was
tortured
with
desire
to
see
him
again
,
a
nostalgia
,
a
necessity
to
see
him
again
,
to
make
sure
it
was
not
all
a
mistake
,
that
she
was
not
deluding
herself
,
that
she
really
felt
this
strange
and
overwhelming
sensation
on
his
account
,
this
knowledge
of
him
in
her
essence
,
this
powerful
apprehension
of
him
.
“
Am
I
really
singled
out
for
him
in
some
way
,
is
there
really
some
pale
gold
,
arctic
light
that
envelopes
only
us
two
?
”
she
asked
herself
.
And
she
could
not
believe
it
,
she
remained
in
a
muse
,
scarcely
conscious
of
what
was
going
on
around
.
The
bridesmaids
were
here
,
and
yet
the
bridegroom
had
not
come
.
Ursula
wondered
if
something
was
amiss
,
and
if
the
wedding
would
yet
all
go
wrong
.
She
felt
troubled
,
as
if
it
rested
upon
her
.
The
chief
bridesmaids
had
arrived
.
Ursula
watched
them
come
up
the
steps
.
One
of
them
she
knew
,
a
tall
,
slow
,
reluctant
woman
with
a
weight
of
fair
hair
and
a
pale
,
long
face
.
This
was
Hermione
Roddice
,
a
friend
of
the
Criches
.
Now
she
came
along
,
with
her
head
held
up
,
balancing
an
enormous
flat
hat
of
pale
yellow
velvet
,
on
which
were
streaks
of
ostrich
feathers
,
natural
and
grey
.
She
drifted
forward
as
if
scarcely
conscious
,
her
long
blanched
face
lifted
up
,
not
to
see
the
world
.
She
was
rich
.
She
wore
a
dress
of
silky
,
frail
velvet
,
of
pale
yellow
colour
,
and
she
carried
a
lot
of
small
rose-coloured
cyclamens
.
Her
shoes
and
stockings
were
of
brownish
grey
,
like
the
feathers
on
her
hat
,
her
hair
was
heavy
,
she
drifted
along
with
a
peculiar
fixity
of
the
hips
,
a
strange
unwilling
motion
.
She
was
impressive
,
in
her
lovely
pale-yellow
and
brownish-rose
,
yet
macabre
,
something
repulsive
.
People
were
silent
when
she
passed
,
impressed
,
roused
,
wanting
to
jeer
,
yet
for
some
reason
silenced
.
Her
long
,
pale
face
,
that
she
carried
lifted
up
,
somewhat
in
the
Rossetti
fashion
,
seemed
almost
drugged
,
as
if
a
strange
mass
of
thoughts
coiled
in
the
darkness
within
her
,
and
she
was
never
allowed
to
escape
.
Ursula
watched
her
with
fascination
.
She
knew
her
a
little
.
She
was
the
most
remarkable
woman
in
the
Midlands
.
Her
father
was
a
Derbyshire
Baronet
of
the
old
school
,
she
was
a
woman
of
the
new
school
,
full
of
intellectuality
,
and
heavy
,
nerve-worn
with
consciousness
.
She
was
passionately
interested
in
reform
,
her
soul
was
given
up
to
the
public
cause
.
But
she
was
a
man’s
woman
,
it
was
the
manly
world
that
held
her
.
She
had
various
intimacies
of
mind
and
soul
with
various
men
of
capacity
.
Ursula
knew
,
among
these
men
,
only
Rupert
Birkin
,
who
was
one
of
the
school-inspectors
of
the
county
.
But
Gudrun
had
met
others
,
in
London
.
Moving
with
her
artist
friends
in
different
kinds
of
society
,
Gudrun
had
already
come
to
know
a
good
many
people
of
repute
and
standing
.
She
had
met
Hermione
twice
,
but
they
did
not
take
to
each
other
.
It
would
be
queer
to
meet
again
down
here
in
the
Midlands
,
where
their
social
standing
was
so
diverse
,
after
they
had
known
each
other
on
terms
of
equality
in
the
houses
of
sundry
acquaintances
in
town
.
For
Gudrun
had
been
a
social
success
,
and
had
her
friends
among
the
slack
aristocracy
that
keeps
touch
with
the
arts
.
Hermione
knew
herself
to
be
well-dressed
;
she
knew
herself
to
be
the
social
equal
,
if
not
far
the
superior
,
of
anyone
she
was
likely
to
meet
in
Willey
Green
.
She
knew
she
was
accepted
in
the
world
of
culture
and
of
intellect
.
She
was
a
Kulturträger
,
a
medium
for
the
culture
of
ideas
.
With
all
that
was
highest
,
whether
in
society
or
in
thought
or
in
public
action
,
or
even
in
art
,
she
was
at
one
,
she
moved
among
the
foremost
,
at
home
with
them
.
No
one
could
put
her
down
,
no
one
could
make
mock
of
her
,
because
she
stood
among
the
first
,
and
those
that
were
against
her
were
below
her
,
either
in
rank
,
or
in
wealth
,
or
in
high
association
of
thought
and
progress
and
understanding
.
So
,
she
was
invulnerable
.
All
her
life
,
she
had
sought
to
make
herself
invulnerable
,
unassailable
,
beyond
reach
of
the
world’s
judgment
.
And
yet
her
soul
was
tortured
,
exposed
.
Even
walking
up
the
path
to
the
church
,
confident
as
she
was
that
in
every
respect
she
stood
beyond
all
vulgar
judgment
,
knowing
perfectly
that
her
appearance
was
complete
and
perfect
,
according
to
the
first
standards
,
yet
she
suffered
a
torture
,
under
her
confidence
and
her
pride
,
feeling
herself
exposed
to
wounds
and
to
mockery
and
to
despite
.
She
always
felt
vulnerable
,
vulnerable
,
there
was
always
a
secret
chink
in
her
armour
.
She
did
not
know
herself
what
it
was
.
It
was
a
lack
of
robust
self
,
she
had
no
natural
sufficiency
,
there
was
a
terrible
void
,
a
lack
,
a
deficiency
of
being
within
her
.
And
she
wanted
someone
to
close
up
this
deficiency
,
to
close
it
up
for
ever
.
She
craved
for
Rupert
Birkin
.
When
he
was
there
,
she
felt
complete
,
she
was
sufficient
,
whole
.
For
the
rest
of
time
she
was
established
on
the
sand
,
built
over
a
chasm
,
and
,
in
spite
of
all
her
vanity
and
securities
,
any
common
maid-servant
of
positive
,
robust
temper
could
fling
her
down
this
bottomless
pit
of
insufficiency
,
by
the
slightest
movement
of
jeering
or
contempt
.
And
all
the
while
the
pensive
,
tortured
woman
piled
up
her
own
defences
of
æsthetic
knowledge
,
and
culture
,
and
world-visions
,
and
disinterestedness
.
Yet
she
could
never
stop
up
the
terrible
gap
of
insufficiency
.
If
only
Birkin
would
form
a
close
and
abiding
connection
with
her
,
she
would
be
safe
during
this
fretful
voyage
of
life
.
He
could
make
her
sound
and
triumphant
,
triumphant
over
the
very
angels
of
heaven
.
If
only
he
would
do
it
!
But
she
was
tortured
with
fear
,
with
misgiving
.
She
made
herself
beautiful
,
she
strove
so
hard
to
come
to
that
degree
of
beauty
and
advantage
,
when
he
should
be
convinced
.
But
always
there
was
a
deficiency
.
He
was
perverse
too
.
He
fought
her
off
,
he
always
fought
her
off
.
The
more
she
strove
to
bring
him
to
her
,
the
more
he
battled
her
back
.
And
they
had
been
lovers
now
,
for
years
.
Oh
,
it
was
so
wearying
,
so
aching
;
she
was
so
tired
.
But
still
she
believed
in
herself
.
She
knew
he
was
trying
to
leave
her
.
She
knew
he
was
trying
to
break
away
from
her
finally
,
to
be
free
.
But
still
she
believed
in
her
strength
to
keep
him
,
she
believed
in
her
own
higher
knowledge
.
His
own
knowledge
was
high
,
she
was
the
central
touchstone
of
truth
.
She
only
needed
his
conjunction
with
her
.
And
this
,
this
conjunction
with
her
,
which
was
his
highest
fulfilment
also
,
with
the
perverseness
of
a
wilful
child
he
wanted
to
deny
.
With
the
wilfulness
of
an
obstinate
child
,
he
wanted
to
break
the
holy
connection
that
was
between
them
.
He
would
be
at
this
wedding
;
he
was
to
be
groom’s
man
.
He
would
be
in
the
church
,
waiting
.
He
would
know
when
she
came
.
She
shuddered
with
nervous
apprehension
and
desire
as
she
went
through
the
church-door
.
He
would
be
there
,
surely
he
would
see
how
beautiful
her
dress
was
,
surely
he
would
see
how
she
had
made
herself
beautiful
for
him
.
He
would
understand
,
he
would
be
able
to
see
how
she
was
made
for
him
,
the
first
,
how
she
was
,
for
him
,
the
highest
.
Surely
at
last
he
would
be
able
to
accept
his
highest
fate
,
he
would
not
deny
her
.
In
a
little
convulsion
of
too-tired
yearning
,
she
entered
the
church
and
looked
slowly
along
her
cheeks
for
him
,
her
slender
body
convulsed
with
agitation
.
As
best
man
,
he
would
be
standing
beside
the
altar
.
She
looked
slowly
,
deferring
in
her
certainty
.
And
then
,
he
was
not
there
.
A
terrible
storm
came
over
her
,
as
if
she
were
drowning
.
She
was
possessed
by
a
devastating
hopelessness
.
And
she
approached
mechanically
to
the
altar
.
Never
had
she
known
such
a
pang
of
utter
and
final
hopelessness
.
It
was
beyond
death
,
so
utterly
null
,
desert
.
The
bridegroom
and
the
groom’s
man
had
not
yet
come
.
There
was
a
growing
consternation
outside
.
Ursula
felt
almost
responsible
.
She
could
not
bear
it
that
the
bride
should
arrive
,
and
no
groom
.
The
wedding
must
not
be
a
fiasco
,
it
must
not
.
But
here
was
the
bride’s
carriage
,
adorned
with
ribbons
and
cockades
.
Gaily
the
grey
horses
curvetted
to
their
destination
at
the
church-gate
,
a
laughter
in
the
whole
movement
.
Here
was
the
quick
of
all
laughter
and
pleasure
.
The
door
of
the
carriage
was
thrown
open
,
to
let
out
the
very
blossom
of
the
day
.
The
people
on
the
roadway
murmured
faintly
with
the
discontented
murmuring
of
a
crowd
.
The
father
stepped
out
first
into
the
air
of
the
morning
,
like
a
shadow
.
He
was
a
tall
,
thin
,
careworn
man
,
with
a
thin
black
beard
that
was
touched
with
grey
.
He
waited
at
the
door
of
the
carriage
patiently
,
self-obliterated
.
In
the
opening
of
the
doorway
was
a
shower
of
fine
foliage
and
flowers
,
a
whiteness
of
satin
and
lace
,
and
a
sound
of
a
gay
voice
saying
:
“
How
do
I
get
out
?
”
A
ripple
of
satisfaction
ran
through
the
expectant
people
.
They
pressed
near
to
receive
her
,
looking
with
zest
at
the
stooping
blond
head
with
its
flower
buds
,
and
at
the
delicate
,
white
,
tentative
foot
that
was
reaching
down
to
the
step
of
the
carriage
.
There
was
a
sudden
foaming
rush
,
and
the
bride
like
a
sudden
surf-rush
,
floating
all
white
beside
her
father
in
the
morning
shadow
of
trees
,
her
veil
flowing
with
laughter
.
“
That’s
done
it
!
”
she
said
.
She
put
her
hand
on
the
arm
of
her
care-worn
,
sallow
father
,
and
frothing
her
light
draperies
,
proceeded
over
the
eternal
red
carpet
.
Her
father
,
mute
and
yellowish
,
his
black
beard
making
him
look
more
careworn
,
mounted
the
steps
stiffly
,
as
if
his
spirit
were
absent
;
but
the
laughing
mist
of
the
bride
went
along
with
him
undiminished
.
And
no
bridegroom
had
arrived
!
It
was
intolerable
for
her
.
Ursula
,
her
heart
strained
with
anxiety
,
was
watching
the
hill
beyond
;
the
white
,
descending
road
,
that
should
give
sight
of
him
.
There
was
a
carriage
.
It
was
running
.
It
had
just
come
into
sight
.
Yes
,
it
was
he
.
Ursula
turned
towards
the
bride
and
the
people
,
and
,
from
her
place
of
vantage
,
gave
an
inarticulate
cry
.
She
wanted
to
warn
them
that
he
was
coming
.
But
her
cry
was
inarticulate
and
inaudible
,
and
she
flushed
deeply
,
between
her
desire
and
her
wincing
confusion
.
The
carriage
rattled
down
the
hill
,
and
drew
near
.
There
was
a
shout
from
the
people
.
The
bride
,
who
had
just
reached
the
top
of
the
steps
,
turned
round
gaily
to
see
what
was
the
commotion
.
She
saw
a
confusion
among
the
people
,
a
cab
pulling
up
,
and
her
lover
dropping
out
of
the
carriage
,
and
dodging
among
the
horses
and
into
the
crowd
.
“
Tibs
!
Tibs
!
”
she
cried
in
her
sudden
,
mocking
excitement
,
standing
high
on
the
path
in
the
sunlight
and
waving
her
bouquet
.
He
,
dodging
with
his
hat
in
his
hand
,
had
not
heard
.
“
Tibs
!
”
she
cried
again
,
looking
down
to
him
.
He
glanced
up
,
unaware
,
and
saw
the
bride
and
her
father
standing
on
the
path
above
him
.
A
queer
,
startled
look
went
over
his
face
.
He
hesitated
for
a
moment
.
Then
he
gathered
himself
together
for
a
leap
,
to
overtake
her
.
“
Ah-h-h
!
”
came
her
strange
,
intaken
cry
,
as
,
on
the
reflex
,
she
started
,
turned
and
fled
,
scudding
with
an
unthinkable
swift
beating
of
her
white
feet
and
fraying
of
her
white
garments
,
towards
the
church
.
Like
a
hound
the
young
man
was
after
her
,
leaping
the
steps
and
swinging
past
her
father
,
his
supple
haunches
working
like
those
of
a
hound
that
bears
down
on
the
quarry
.
“
Ay
,
after
her
!
”
cried
the
vulgar
women
below
,
carried
suddenly
into
the
sport
.
She
,
her
flowers
shaken
from
her
like
froth
,
was
steadying
herself
to
turn
the
angle
of
the
church
.
She
glanced
behind
,
and
with
a
wild
cry
of
laughter
and
challenge
,
veered
,
poised
,
and
was
gone
beyond
the
grey
stone
buttress
.
In
another
instant
the
bridegroom
,
bent
forward
as
he
ran
,
had
caught
the
angle
of
the
silent
stone
with
his
hand
,
and
had
swung
himself
out
of
sight
,
his
supple
,
strong
loins
vanishing
in
pursuit
.
Instantly
cries
and
exclamations
of
excitement
burst
from
the
crowd
at
the
gate
.
And
then
Ursula
noticed
again
the
dark
,
rather
stooping
figure
of
Mr
Crich
,
waiting
suspended
on
the
path
,
watching
with
expressionless
face
the
flight
to
the
church
.
It
was
over
,
and
he
turned
round
to
look
behind
him
,
at
the
figure
of
Rupert
Birkin
,
who
at
once
came
forward
and
joined
him
.
“
We’ll
bring
up
the
rear
,
”
said
Birkin
,
a
faint
smile
on
his
face
.
“
Ay
!
”
replied
the
father
laconically
.
And
the
two
men
turned
together
up
the
path
.
Birkin
was
as
thin
as
Mr
Crich
,
pale
and
ill-looking
.
His
figure
was
narrow
but
nicely
made
.
He
went
with
a
slight
trail
of
one
foot
,
which
came
only
from
self-consciousness
.
Although
he
was
dressed
correctly
for
his
part
,
yet
there
was
an
innate
incongruity
which
caused
a
slight
ridiculousness
in
his
appearance
.
His
nature
was
clever
and
separate
,
he
did
not
fit
at
all
in
the
conventional
occasion
.
Yet
he
subordinated
himself
to
the
common
idea
,
travestied
himself
.
He
affected
to
be
quite
ordinary
,
perfectly
and
marvellously
commonplace
.
And
he
did
it
so
well
,
taking
the
tone
of
his
surroundings
,
adjusting
himself
quickly
to
his
interlocutor
and
his
circumstance
,
that
he
achieved
a
verisimilitude
of
ordinary
commonplaceness
that
usually
propitiated
his
onlookers
for
the
moment
,
disarmed
them
from
attacking
his
singleness
.
Now
he
spoke
quite
easily
and
pleasantly
to
Mr
Crich
,
as
they
walked
along
the
path
;
he
played
with
situations
like
a
man
on
a
tight-rope
:
but
always
on
a
tight-rope
,
pretending
nothing
but
ease
.
“
I’m
sorry
we
are
so
late
,
”
he
was
saying
.
“
We
couldn’t
find
a
button-hook
,
so
it
took
us
a
long
time
to
button
our
boots
.
But
you
were
to
the
moment
.
”
“
We
are
usually
to
time
,
”
said
Mr
Crich
.
“
And
I’m
always
late
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
But
today
I
was
really
punctual
,
only
accidentally
not
so
.
I’m
sorry
.
”
The
two
men
were
gone
,
there
was
nothing
more
to
see
,
for
the
time
.
Ursula
was
left
thinking
about
Birkin
.
He
piqued
her
,
attracted
her
,
and
annoyed
her
.
She
wanted
to
know
him
more
.
She
had
spoken
with
him
once
or
twice
,
but
only
in
his
official
capacity
as
inspector
.
She
thought
he
seemed
to
acknowledge
some
kinship
between
her
and
him
,
a
natural
,
tacit
understanding
,
a
using
of
the
same
language
.
But
there
had
been
no
time
for
the
understanding
to
develop
.
And
something
kept
her
from
him
,
as
well
as
attracted
her
to
him
.
There
was
a
certain
hostility
,
a
hidden
ultimate
reserve
in
him
,
cold
and
inaccessible
.
Yet
she
wanted
to
know
him
.
“
What
do
you
think
of
Rupert
Birkin
?
”
she
asked
,
a
little
reluctantly
,
of
Gudrun
.
She
did
not
want
to
discuss
him
.
“
What
do
I
think
of
Rupert
Birkin
?
”
repeated
Gudrun
.
“
I
think
he’s
attractive
—
decidedly
attractive
.
What
I
can’t
stand
about
him
is
his
way
with
other
people
—
his
way
of
treating
any
little
fool
as
if
she
were
his
greatest
consideration
.
One
feels
so
awfully
sold
,
oneself
.
”
“
Why
does
he
do
it
?
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Because
he
has
no
real
critical
faculty
—
of
people
,
at
all
events
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
I
tell
you
,
he
treats
any
little
fool
as
he
treats
me
or
you
—
and
it’s
such
an
insult
.
”
“
Oh
,
it
is
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
One
must
discriminate
.
”
“
One
must
discriminate
,
”
repeated
Gudrun
.
“
But
he’s
a
wonderful
chap
,
in
other
respects
—
a
marvellous
personality
.
But
you
can’t
trust
him
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Ursula
vaguely
.
She
was
always
forced
to
assent
to
Gudrun’s
pronouncements
,
even
when
she
was
not
in
accord
altogether
.
The
sisters
sat
silent
,
waiting
for
the
wedding
party
to
come
out
.
Gudrun
was
impatient
of
talk
.
She
wanted
to
think
about
Gerald
Crich
.
She
wanted
to
see
if
the
strong
feeling
she
had
got
from
him
was
real
.
She
wanted
to
have
herself
ready
.
Inside
the
church
,
the
wedding
was
going
on
.
Hermione
Roddice
was
thinking
only
of
Birkin
.
He
stood
near
her
.
She
seemed
to
gravitate
physically
towards
him
.
She
wanted
to
stand
touching
him
.
She
could
hardly
be
sure
he
was
near
her
,
if
she
did
not
touch
him
.
Yet
she
stood
subjected
through
the
wedding
service
.
She
had
suffered
so
bitterly
when
he
did
not
come
,
that
still
she
was
dazed
.
Still
she
was
gnawed
as
by
a
neuralgia
,
tormented
by
his
potential
absence
from
her
.
She
had
awaited
him
in
a
faint
delirium
of
nervous
torture
.
As
she
stood
bearing
herself
pensively
,
the
rapt
look
on
her
face
,
that
seemed
spiritual
,
like
the
angels
,
but
which
came
from
torture
,
gave
her
a
certain
poignancy
that
tore
his
heart
with
pity
.
He
saw
her
bowed
head
,
her
rapt
face
,
the
face
of
an
almost
demoniacal
ecstatic
.
Feeling
him
looking
,
she
lifted
her
face
and
sought
his
eyes
,
her
own
beautiful
grey
eyes
flaring
him
a
great
signal
.
But
he
avoided
her
look
,
she
sank
her
head
in
torment
and
shame
,
the
gnawing
at
her
heart
going
on
.
And
he
too
was
tortured
with
shame
,
and
ultimate
dislike
,
and
with
acute
pity
for
her
,
because
he
did
not
want
to
meet
her
eyes
,
he
did
not
want
to
receive
her
flare
of
recognition
.
The
bride
and
bridegroom
were
married
,
the
party
went
into
the
vestry
.
Hermione
crowded
involuntarily
up
against
Birkin
,
to
touch
him
.
And
he
endured
it
.
Outside
,
Gudrun
and
Ursula
listened
for
their
father’s
playing
on
the
organ
.
He
would
enjoy
playing
a
wedding
march
.
Now
the
married
pair
were
coming
!
The
bells
were
ringing
,
making
the
air
shake
.
Ursula
wondered
if
the
trees
and
the
flowers
could
feel
the
vibration
,
and
what
they
thought
of
it
,
this
strange
motion
in
the
air
.
The
bride
was
quite
demure
on
the
arm
of
the
bridegroom
,
who
stared
up
into
the
sky
before
him
,
shutting
and
opening
his
eyes
unconsciously
,
as
if
he
were
neither
here
nor
there
.
He
looked
rather
comical
,
blinking
and
trying
to
be
in
the
scene
,
when
emotionally
he
was
violated
by
his
exposure
to
a
crowd
.
He
looked
a
typical
naval
officer
,
manly
,
and
up
to
his
duty
.
Birkin
came
with
Hermione
.
She
had
a
rapt
,
triumphant
look
,
like
the
fallen
angels
restored
,
yet
still
subtly
demoniacal
,
now
she
held
Birkin
by
the
arm
.
And
he
was
expressionless
,
neutralised
,
possessed
by
her
as
if
it
were
his
fate
,
without
question
.
Gerald
Crich
came
,
fair
,
good-looking
,
healthy
,
with
a
great
reserve
of
energy
.
He
was
erect
and
complete
,
there
was
a
strange
stealth
glistening
through
his
amiable
,
almost
happy
appearance
.
Gudrun
rose
sharply
and
went
away
.
She
could
not
bear
it
.
She
wanted
to
be
alone
,
to
know
this
strange
,
sharp
inoculation
that
had
changed
the
whole
temper
of
her
blood
.
CHAPTER
II
.
SHORTLANDS
The
Brangwens
went
home
to
Beldover
,
the
wedding-party
gathered
at
Shortlands
,
the
Criches’
home
.
It
was
a
long
,
low
old
house
,
a
sort
of
manor
farm
,
that
spread
along
the
top
of
a
slope
just
beyond
the
narrow
little
lake
of
Willey
Water
.
Shortlands
looked
across
a
sloping
meadow
that
might
be
a
park
,
because
of
the
large
,
solitary
trees
that
stood
here
and
there
,
across
the
water
of
the
narrow
lake
,
at
the
wooded
hill
that
successfully
hid
the
colliery
valley
beyond
,
but
did
not
quite
hide
the
rising
smoke
.
Nevertheless
,
the
scene
was
rural
and
picturesque
,
very
peaceful
,
and
the
house
had
a
charm
of
its
own
.
It
was
crowded
now
with
the
family
and
the
wedding
guests
.
The
father
,
who
was
not
well
,
withdrew
to
rest
.
Gerald
was
host
.
He
stood
in
the
homely
entrance
hall
,
friendly
and
easy
,
attending
to
the
men
.
He
seemed
to
take
pleasure
in
his
social
functions
,
he
smiled
,
and
was
abundant
in
hospitality
.
The
women
wandered
about
in
a
little
confusion
,
chased
hither
and
thither
by
the
three
married
daughters
of
the
house
.
All
the
while
there
could
be
heard
the
characteristic
,
imperious
voice
of
one
Crich
woman
or
another
calling
“
Helen
,
come
here
a
minute
,
”
“
Marjory
,
I
want
you
—
here
.
”
“
Oh
,
I
say
,
Mrs
Witham
—
.
”
There
was
a
great
rustling
of
skirts
,
swift
glimpses
of
smartly-dressed
women
,
a
child
danced
through
the
hall
and
back
again
,
a
maidservant
came
and
went
hurriedly
.
Meanwhile
the
men
stood
in
calm
little
groups
,
chatting
,
smoking
,
pretending
to
pay
no
heed
to
the
rustling
animation
of
the
women’s
world
.
But
they
could
not
really
talk
,
because
of
the
glassy
ravel
of
women’s
excited
,
cold
laughter
and
running
voices
.
They
waited
,
uneasy
,
suspended
,
rather
bored
.
But
Gerald
remained
as
if
genial
and
happy
,
unaware
that
he
was
waiting
or
unoccupied
,
knowing
himself
the
very
pivot
of
the
occasion
.
Suddenly
Mrs
Crich
came
noiselessly
into
the
room
,
peering
about
with
her
strong
,
clear
face
.
She
was
still
wearing
her
hat
,
and
her
sac
coat
of
blue
silk
.
“
What
is
it
,
mother
?
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Nothing
,
nothing
!
”
she
answered
vaguely
.
And
she
went
straight
towards
Birkin
,
who
was
talking
to
a
Crich
brother-in-law
.
“
How
do
you
do
,
Mr
Birkin
,
”
she
said
,
in
her
low
voice
,
that
seemed
to
take
no
count
of
her
guests
.
She
held
out
her
hand
to
him
.
“
Oh
Mrs
Crich
,
”
replied
Birkin
,
in
his
readily-changing
voice
,
“
I
couldn’t
come
to
you
before
.
”
“
I
don’t
know
half
the
people
here
,
”
she
said
,
in
her
low
voice
.
Her
son-in-law
moved
uneasily
away
.
“
And
you
don’t
like
strangers
?
”
laughed
Birkin
.
“
I
myself
can
never
see
why
one
should
take
account
of
people
,
just
because
they
happen
to
be
in
the
room
with
one
:
why
should
I
know
they
are
there
?
”
“
Why
indeed
,
why
indeed
!
”
said
Mrs
Crich
,
in
her
low
,
tense
voice
.
“
Except
that
they
are
there
.
I
don’t
know
people
whom
I
find
in
the
house
.
The
children
introduce
them
to
me
—
‘Mother
,
this
is
Mr
So-and-so.’
I
am
no
further
.
What
has
Mr
So-and-so
to
do
with
his
own
name
?
—
and
what
have
I
to
do
with
either
him
or
his
name
?
”
She
looked
up
at
Birkin
.
She
startled
him
.
He
was
flattered
too
that
she
came
to
talk
to
him
,
for
she
took
hardly
any
notice
of
anybody
.
He
looked
down
at
her
tense
clear
face
,
with
its
heavy
features
,
but
he
was
afraid
to
look
into
her
heavy-seeing
blue
eyes
.
He
noticed
instead
how
her
hair
looped
in
slack
,
slovenly
strands
over
her
rather
beautiful
ears
,
which
were
not
quite
clean
.
Neither
was
her
neck
perfectly
clean
.
Even
in
that
he
seemed
to
belong
to
her
,
rather
than
to
the
rest
of
the
company
;
though
,
he
thought
to
himself
,
he
was
always
well
washed
,
at
any
rate
at
the
neck
and
ears
.
He
smiled
faintly
,
thinking
these
things
.
Yet
he
was
tense
,
feeling
that
he
and
the
elderly
,
estranged
woman
were
conferring
together
like
traitors
,
like
enemies
within
the
camp
of
the
other
people
.
He
resembled
a
deer
,
that
throws
one
ear
back
upon
the
trail
behind
,
and
one
ear
forward
,
to
know
what
is
ahead
.
“
People
don’t
really
matter
,
”
he
said
,
rather
unwilling
to
continue
.
The
mother
looked
up
at
him
with
sudden
,
dark
interrogation
,
as
if
doubting
his
sincerity
.
“
How
do
you
mean
,
matter
?
”
she
asked
sharply
.
“
Not
many
people
are
anything
at
all
,
”
he
answered
,
forced
to
go
deeper
than
he
wanted
to
.
“
They
jingle
and
giggle
.
It
would
be
much
better
if
they
were
just
wiped
out
.
Essentially
,
they
don’t
exist
,
they
aren’t
there
.
”
She
watched
him
steadily
while
he
spoke
.
“
But
we
didn’t
imagine
them
,
”
she
said
sharply
.
“
There’s
nothing
to
imagine
,
that’s
why
they
don’t
exist
.
”
“
Well
,
”
she
said
,
“
I
would
hardly
go
as
far
as
that
.
There
they
are
,
whether
they
exist
or
no.
It
doesn’t
rest
with
me
to
decide
on
their
existence
.
I
only
know
that
I
can’t
be
expected
to
take
count
of
them
all
.
You
can’t
expect
me
to
know
them
,
just
because
they
happen
to
be
there
.
As
far
as
I
go
they
might
as
well
not
be
there
.
”
“
Exactly
,
”
he
replied
.
“
Mightn’t
they
?
”
she
asked
again
.
“
Just
as
well
,
”
he
repeated
.
And
there
was
a
little
pause
.
“
Except
that
they
are
there
,
and
that’s
a
nuisance
,
”
she
said
.
“
There
are
my
sons-in-law
,
”
she
went
on
,
in
a
sort
of
monologue
.
“
Now
Laura’s
got
married
,
there’s
another
.
And
I
really
don’t
know
John
from
James
yet
.
They
come
up
to
me
and
call
me
mother
.
I
know
what
they
will
say
—
‘how
are
you
,
mother
?
’
I
ought
to
say
,
‘I
am
not
your
mother
,
in
any
sense.’
But
what
is
the
use
?
There
they
are
.
I
have
had
children
of
my
own
.
I
suppose
I
know
them
from
another
woman’s
children
.
”
“
One
would
suppose
so
,
”
he
said
.
She
looked
at
him
,
somewhat
surprised
,
forgetting
perhaps
that
she
was
talking
to
him
.
And
she
lost
her
thread
.
She
looked
round
the
room
,
vaguely
.
Birkin
could
not
guess
what
she
was
looking
for
,
nor
what
she
was
thinking
.
Evidently
she
noticed
her
sons
.
“
Are
my
children
all
there
?
”
she
asked
him
abruptly
.
He
laughed
,
startled
,
afraid
perhaps
.
“
I
scarcely
know
them
,
except
Gerald
,
”
he
replied
.
“
Gerald
!
”
she
exclaimed
.
“
He’s
the
most
wanting
of
them
all
.
You’d
never
think
it
,
to
look
at
him
now
,
would
you
?
”
“
No
,
”
said
Birkin
.
The
mother
looked
across
at
her
eldest
son
,
stared
at
him
heavily
for
some
time
.
“
Ay
,
”
she
said
,
in
an
incomprehensible
monosyllable
,
that
sounded
profoundly
cynical
.
Birkin
felt
afraid
,
as
if
he
dared
not
realise
.
And
Mrs
Crich
moved
away
,
forgetting
him
.
But
she
returned
on
her
traces
.
“
I
should
like
him
to
have
a
friend
,
”
she
said
.
“
He
has
never
had
a
friend
.
”
Birkin
looked
down
into
her
eyes
,
which
were
blue
,
and
watching
heavily
.
He
could
not
understand
them
.
“
Am
I
my
brother’s
keeper
?
”
he
said
to
himself
,
almost
flippantly
.
Then
he
remembered
,
with
a
slight
shock
,
that
that
was
Cain’s
cry
.
And
Gerald
was
Cain
,
if
anybody
.
Not
that
he
was
Cain
,
either
,
although
he
had
slain
his
brother
.
There
was
such
a
thing
as
pure
accident
,
and
the
consequences
did
not
attach
to
one
,
even
though
one
had
killed
one’s
brother
in
such
wise
.
Gerald
as
a
boy
had
accidentally
killed
his
brother
.
What
then
?
Why
seek
to
draw
a
brand
and
a
curse
across
the
life
that
had
caused
the
accident
?
A
man
can
live
by
accident
,
and
die
by
accident
.
Or
can
he
not
?
Is
every
man’s
life
subject
to
pure
accident
,
is
it
only
the
race
,
the
genus
,
the
species
,
that
has
a
universal
reference
?
Or
is
this
not
true
,
is
there
no
such
thing
as
pure
accident
?
Has
everything
that
happens
a
universal
significance
?
Has
it
?
Birkin
,
pondering
as
he
stood
there
,
had
forgotten
Mrs
Crich
,
as
she
had
forgotten
him
.
He
did
not
believe
that
there
was
any
such
thing
as
accident
.
It
all
hung
together
,
in
the
deepest
sense
.
Just
as
he
had
decided
this
,
one
of
the
Crich
daughters
came
up
,
saying
:
“
Won’t
you
come
and
take
your
hat
off
,
mother
dear
?
We
shall
be
sitting
down
to
eat
in
a
minute
,
and
it’s
a
formal
occasion
,
darling
,
isn’t
it
?
”
She
drew
her
arm
through
her
mother’s
,
and
they
went
away
.
Birkin
immediately
went
to
talk
to
the
nearest
man
.
The
gong
sounded
for
the
luncheon
.
The
men
looked
up
,
but
no
move
was
made
to
the
dining-room
.
The
women
of
the
house
seemed
not
to
feel
that
the
sound
had
meaning
for
them
.
Five
minutes
passed
by
.
The
elderly
manservant
,
Crowther
,
appeared
in
the
doorway
exasperatedly
.
He
looked
with
appeal
at
Gerald
.
The
latter
took
up
a
large
,
curved
conch
shell
,
that
lay
on
a
shelf
,
and
without
reference
to
anybody
,
blew
a
shattering
blast
.
It
was
a
strange
rousing
noise
,
that
made
the
heart
beat
.
The
summons
was
almost
magical
.
Everybody
came
running
,
as
if
at
a
signal
.
And
then
the
crowd
in
one
impulse
moved
to
the
dining-room
.
Gerald
waited
a
moment
,
for
his
sister
to
play
hostess
.
He
knew
his
mother
would
pay
no
attention
to
her
duties
.
But
his
sister
merely
crowded
to
her
seat
.
Therefore
the
young
man
,
slightly
too
dictatorial
,
directed
the
guests
to
their
places
.
There
was
a
moment’s
lull
,
as
everybody
looked
at
the
hors
d’oeuvres
that
were
being
handed
round
.
And
out
of
this
lull
,
a
girl
of
thirteen
or
fourteen
,
with
her
long
hair
down
her
back
,
said
in
a
calm
,
self-possessed
voice
:
“
Gerald
,
you
forget
father
,
when
you
make
that
unearthly
noise
.
”
“
Do
I
?
”
he
answered
.
And
then
,
to
the
company
,
“
Father
is
lying
down
,
he
is
not
quite
well
.
”
“
How
is
he
,
really
?
”
called
one
of
the
married
daughters
,
peeping
round
the
immense
wedding
cake
that
towered
up
in
the
middle
of
the
table
shedding
its
artificial
flowers
.
“
He
has
no
pain
,
but
he
feels
tired
,
”
replied
Winifred
,
the
girl
with
the
hair
down
her
back
.
The
wine
was
filled
,
and
everybody
was
talking
boisterously
.
At
the
far
end
of
the
table
sat
the
mother
,
with
her
loosely-looped
hair
.
She
had
Birkin
for
a
neighbour
.
Sometimes
she
glanced
fiercely
down
the
rows
of
faces
,
bending
forwards
and
staring
unceremoniously
.
And
she
would
say
in
a
low
voice
to
Birkin
:
“
Who
is
that
young
man
?
”
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
Birkin
answered
discreetly
.
“
Have
I
seen
him
before
?
”
she
asked
.
“
I
don’t
think
so
.
I
haven’t
,
”
he
replied
.
And
she
was
satisfied
.
Her
eyes
closed
wearily
,
a
peace
came
over
her
face
,
she
looked
like
a
queen
in
repose
.
Then
she
started
,
a
little
social
smile
came
on
her
face
,
for
a
moment
she
looked
the
pleasant
hostess
.
For
a
moment
she
bent
graciously
,
as
if
everyone
were
welcome
and
delightful
.
And
then
immediately
the
shadow
came
back
,
a
sullen
,
eagle
look
was
on
her
face
,
she
glanced
from
under
her
brows
like
a
sinister
creature
at
bay
,
hating
them
all
.
“
Mother
,
”
called
Diana
,
a
handsome
girl
a
little
older
than
Winifred
,
“
I
may
have
wine
,
mayn’t
I
?
”
“
Yes
,
