Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

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 pitch-dark 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 far-off 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 ash-tree seemed a friend now.
His mother rose with gladness as he entered. He put his eight
shillings proudly on the table.
"It'll help, mother?" he asked wistfully.
"There's 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 life-story,
like an Arabian Nights, was told night after night to his mother.
It was almost 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 don't like it, alter it, and if you
can't alter it, put up with it."