Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

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 bracken-frond 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.
"Good-evening!" he said.