Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

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