Sons and Lovers

empty coal-cart cease at her entry-end, she ran into the parlour to look, expecting almost to see her husband seated in the

upstairs and her son was painting in the kitchen-he was very clever with his brush-when there came a knock at the

s dirt stood on

lter Morel'

Mrs. Morel.

ad guesse

r's got hur

It's a wonder if he hadn't, lad

t's 'is leg somewhere. They t

is! There's not five minutes of peace, I'll be hanged if t

t. But he shouted like anythink when Doctor Fraser examined him i' th' lamp cabin-an' coss

altered t

ve all the bother. Thank you, my lad. Eh, dea

Paul had mechanically

hese 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, t

nish it,"

in, an' all the men as go across in that ambulance. You'd think they'd have a hospital here. The men bought the ground, and, my sirs, there'd be accidents enough to keep it going. But no, they must trail them ten miles in a slow ambulance to Nottingham. It's a crying shame! Oh, and the

aking off her bodice, she crouched at the boile

laimed, wriggling the handle impatiently. She had very han

put on the kettle

ll four-twenty," he sai

d, blinking at him over the

a cup of tea at any rate. Sho

r! His clean shirt-and it's a blessing it IS clean. But it had better be aired. And s

spoon," said Paul. His father

brown hair, that was fine as silk, and was touched now with grey. "He's very particular to wash him

t his mother one or two pieces

aid, putting her cup

hered!" she exc

o there, now it's put o

her tea, and ate a little,

, 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 son's heart waiting on her, felt him bearing what part of the burden he c

Paul, as soon as sh

enough," s

ha

r son watched her face as it was lifted, and her small,

s a dreadful smash. You see, a great piece of rock fell on his leg-here-

id!" exclaime

ou're not going to die of a broken leg, however badly it's smashed.' 'I s'll niver come out of 'ere but in a wooden box,' he groaned. 'Well,' I said, 'if you want them to carry yo

er bonnet. The childr

mash. It's not at all sure that it will mend so easily. And then there's the fever and the mortification-if it took bad ways he'd quickly be gone.

hree children realised that it was very bad for

ts better," said

tell him," sa

oved about

done for," she said. "But the

her mother's c

'll have to go now, Walter, because of the train-an

ed, 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 woman's pity was roused to its full extent, when she would have slaved herself to death to nurse him a

in my working boots-and LOOK at them." They were an old pair of Paul's, brown and ru

at school, Mrs. Morel talked again to her s

m, 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.

ed his tas

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

and he took it in as best he could, by sharing her trouble to lighten i

. Then he began to mend. And then, knowing he was going to get bette

amily 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 fret-saw for Arth

d how perfectly peaceful the home could be. And they almost regretted-though none

rough-featured, 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 mother's, came suddenly and was very lovable; and then, when there was any c

went through agonies of shrinking self-consciousness. 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

ant to be?" hi

yth

answer," sai

ome, 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 w

"you must look in the pap

anguish to go through. But he said nothing. When he got up in t

d look for adverti

hought, killing all joy and even life, f

lace. He can't get a job. I suppose he's living on his mother." Then he crept up the stone stairs behind the drapery shop at the Co-op., and peeped in the reading-room. Usually one or two men were there, either old, useless fellows, or colliers "on t

wn 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

was not so much below Paul's eye. The man's 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, t

himself, "I was fat like him, and like a dog in th

advertisement on a scrap of paper, then another, and slip o

said, "yo

language, which Paul copied, with variations. The boy's handwriting was execr

ss 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

. 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

at a dance, a handsome brunette, quite young, and a

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

ion. And, as she stood over the washing-tub, 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 ho

an, Manufacturer of Surgical Appliances, at 21,

ve only written four letters, and the third is answe

per, and he felt alarmed. He had not known that elastic stockings existed. And he seemed to feel the business world, with its regula

d 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

He suffered because she WOULD talk alo

she said, "careering round as

ly a bottfly,"

asked brightly

him. Suddenly their eyes met, and she smiled to him-a rare, intimate smi

n Street, feeling the excitement of lovers having an adventure together. In Carrington

seeing the sunshine on the water t

she answere

d the shops

"wouldn't that just suit our Annie? And fo

eedlework as w

es

nge and delightful to them. But the boy was tied up inside in a k

ark green house doors with brass knockers, and yellow-ochred doorsteps projecting on to the pavement; then another old shop whose small window looked like a cunning, h

chway, in which were names of vari

d Mrs. Morel. "Bu

s a queer, dark, cardboard factor

he entry,"

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

ack, were going about in an at-home 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 ho

rt. Then he glanced round to the other end of the room, where was a glass office. And then he ca

Mr. Jordan?

im," answered

a pomeranian dog. Then the same little man came up the room. He had short legs, was rather stout, and

before Mrs. Morel, in doubt as to

my son, Paul Morel. You ask

n, in a rather snappy little ma

mers. On the table was a pile of trusses, yellow wash-leather hoops tangled together. They looked new and living. Paul sniffed the odo

to a horse-hair chair. She sat on the edge in an uncertain

ped, thrusting what Paul recognised

he an

tter; second, in wondering why his letter seemed so strange and different, in the fat, red hand of the man, from what it

n to write?" said t

at him shamedly,

e pushed up her veil. Paul hated her for not being prouder with

rench?" inquired the li

" sai

ool did y

oard-s

you learn

went crimson and

ons," said Mrs. Morel, half

ep his hands ready for action-he pulled another sheet of paper from his po

hat," h

foreign handwriting that the boy could no

looked in great confusion at M

even sufficiently to supply him with the word. Feeling an utter fo

ris fil bas-grey thread stockings'-er-er-'sans-without'-er-I

ord still refused to come. Seeing him stu

two pairs grey thread

"'doigts' means 'finge

ow whether "doigts" meant "fingers"; he kne

stockings!

ean fingers," th

e pale, stupid, defiant boy, then at the mother, who sat quiet and with that

ould he com

"as soon as you wish. He

live in

e in-at the station-

'm

t open his mouth to say another word, after having insisted that "doigts" meant "fingers". He fol

u'll like i

mother, and it was the writin

, and you won't see much of him. Wasn't that fir

dan common, mother?

nd people so much. They're not being disagreeable to YOU-it's their wa

p 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

go for dinner?"

ave a cup of tea and a bun. Most of the people of Bestwood considered that tea and bread-and-butter, and perhaps potted beef,

nned the bill of fare, her heart was heavy, things were so dear. So

ave come here, mo

he said. "We wo

ng a small currant tart,

t it, mother

nsisted; "yo

nd Mrs. Morel did not like to bother her then. So the mother and so

l. "Look now, she's taking that man HI

atter, mother

ers were too meagre, so that she had not the courage to

go, mothe

tood up. The girl

currant tart?" sai

oked round

ly," sh

uite long enough,

ted to sink through the floor. He marvelled at his mother's hardness. He knew that only year

thing!" she declared, when they were o

ok at Keep's and Boot's, and

h that he hankered after. But this indulgence he refused. He stood in front of milliners' sh

make your mouth water. I've wanted some of those for y

he florists, standing

n't it simp

op, an elegant young lady in black

u," he said, trying to

she exclaimed, ref

sniffing hastily. "Lo

s to smell like it!" And, to his great relief, she moved o

get out of sight of the elegant young lady i

reluctan

that fuchsia!" she

You'd think every second as the flowers was g

n abundance

p downwards with thei

exclaimed

ho'll buy i

she answer

die in our

ills every bit of a plant you put in,

anal, through the dark pass of the buildings, they saw the Castle on its bl

nner-times?" said Paul. "I can go all roun

" assented

s mother. They arrived home in the mello

d took it to the station. When he got back, his mother was ju

be here on Satu

much wi

pound eleve

ashing her fl

lot?" h

than I thought

eight shillings

ut went on with her w

me ten shillings-twice; and now I know he hasn't a farthing if I asked him. Not that I want it.

a lot,"

hey're all alike. They're large in promises,

y shillings a week o

posed to find money for extras. But they don't care about helping you

own money if she's

know he doesn't buy her a gold bangle for noth

rn-for a photograph to send to his mother. The photo came-a handsome brunette, taken in profile, smirking slightl

t 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 fir

e chiffonier in the parlour. He came out

this is?" he as

illiam is going with

look on 'er, an' one as wunna do hi

Louisa Lily D

r!" exclaimed the miner.

he's supposed

he photo. "A lady, is she? An' how much does

ld aunt, whom she hates, and tak

photograph. "Then he's a fool to ha

hink it decent. However, I told Gyp that it didn't quite suit your prim and proper notions, so she's going to send you another, that

This time the young lady was seen in a black satin evening bodice, cut squa

t evening clothes," said Mrs. Morel sarcas

said Paul. "I think the first on

red his mother.

in his waistcoat pocket. He loved it with its bars of yellow across. His mother packed his dinner in a small, shut-up

e 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 m

" he said, smiling, bu

he replied cheerf

he 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 cent

ng in a corner, as they took off their coats and rolled up their shirt-sleeves. 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 rou

said. "You t

" sai

at's you

l Mo

right, you come

orey. 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 downw

round to a ve

h. He's your boss, but he's not come yet. He doesn't get here till half-past e

nted to the old c

ght," s

on. Here are your entry ledgers

d away with long, busy stride

e door of the glass office. The old clerk in the smo

impressively. "You want the letter

r made an angle, where the great parcel-rack came to an end, and where there were three doors in the corner.

et, such as I had from you last year; length, thigh to knee, etc." Or, "Major Chambe

oy. He sat on his stool nervously awaiting the arrival of his "boss". He suffered tortur

sallow man with a red nose, quick, staccato, and smartly but stiffly dressed. He was about thirty-six years old. There was som

new lad?

up and sa

d the l

th gave a che

es

ied

N

, let's look slippy

N

he darkness behind the great parcel-rack, reappeared coatless, turning up a smart striped shirt-cuff over a thin and hairy arm. Then he slipped in

own,"

took

the letters, snatched a long entry-book out of a rack

ck chew at his gum, stared fixedly at a letter, then went very still and absorbed, an

e t

es

can do it

es

then, let

copying the letters, but he wrote slowly, laboriously, and exceedingly badly. He was do

'r' yer gettin

s shoulder, chewing, an

atirically. "Ne'er mind, how many h'yer done? Only three! I'd 'a ea

Suddenly the boy started as a shrill whistle sounded near his ear. Mr. Pappleworth

es

t of the mouth of the tube. He gazed in wond

eably into the tube, "you'd better g

voice was heard, soun

you talk," said Mr. Pappleworth, an

, "there's Polly crying out for them orders

e worked quickly and well. This done, he seized some strips of long yellow pa

e drawings of legs, and thighs, and ankles, with the strokes across and the numbers, and the few brie

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 buil

e!" said P

ly. "The girls have been here nearly half an

not talking so much," said Mr. Papplewo

ything off on Saturday!" cried Pony,

ked. "Here's your new lad. Don'

do a lot of ruining, we do. My word, a lad wo

t for talk," said Mr. Pappl

Polly, marching away with her head in the

hrough the inner doorway was another longer room, with six more machines. A

se to do but talk?"

," said one handso

d. "Come on, my lad. You'll kn

ouring in his execrable handwriting. Presently Mr. Jordan came strutting down from the glass office and stood be

e!" exclaimed the cross

squire" in his own vile writing, a

hile they were at it? If you put 'Mr.' you do

ours, hesitated, and with trembling fingers, scratched out th

send that to a gentleman?" And h

shame, began again. St

r than that. Lads learn nothing nowadays, but how to recite poetry and

t?" replied Mr. Papp

urer, 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

ur name?" asked Mr. P

l Mo

suffer so much at having t

ht, you Paul-Morel through

a flesh-pink "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

ow?" said Mr. Pappleworth. "

her long, rather heavy face towards Mr. P

all tom-c

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 green-black

blaming it on to me. It's not my fau

. Will you do as I tell you?" r

unchback woman cried, almost in tears. Then she snatched the knee-cap from

ew lad," said

smiling very g

she

e a softy of hi

ake a softy of him,"

Paul," said M

ul," said one

r. Paul went out, blushing de

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 o'clock he was back in the corner of the big room. Soon the work-girls went trooping past, making r

to the dungeon with the table on trestles, and there they had tea, eating bread-and-butter on the bare, dirty boards, talking with the same kind of ugly haste a

p 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. An

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 mu

r looked at him. She saw he was rath

how was it?

ed. "You don't have to work a bit

ou get on

he's my man-said to Mr. Jordan I should be all right. I'm

as if he had been a comrade. Sometimes the "Spiral boss" was irritable, and chewed more lozenges than ever. Even then, howeve

ET?" he would cry. "Go o

tand him least then, he was

Yorkshire terrier bitch tomorr

Yorkshir

rrier is? DON'T KNOW A YORKSHIR

y one-colours of iro

s' worth of pups already, and she's worth over seven

eemed so like a wet rag that would never dry. Then a man called for her, and began to make coarse jo

atch Paul, and then the only fault he found

id to the lad: "Why don't you hold your shoulders straighter? Come down here," when he took h

, 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 gre

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 de

ning at a spinning-wheel-it looks ever so nice. You remind me

nie sitting on the stool before the wheel, her flowing mane of red hair on her rusty black f

, who always seemed to thrust h

condescending. But to condescend to h

put needles

and don't

o know how to

r machine all th

ings you ought to

ow to stick needl

nuisance he is! Why,

nly a whistle piped. Then Polly a

much longer you're going to be down

alling "Good-bye!" an

ted him to play with

back, in the finishing-off room. Mr. Pappleworth did not appear till twenty to three, and h

ralto voice. Everybody joined in the chorus, and it went well. Paul was not at all

the song Fan

ve been laug

t, Fanny!" cried

mention of Co

tter, to my fa

ke a fool of me," said

, Paul; she's go

. "That coldish colour like earth,

exclaimed one

get criticised

earnestly. "It's simply beautiful. Put it down

ot, and yet s

it down myself

n if you like

he knot, and the rush of hair, of unifo

ely lot!" h

s silence. The youth shook

smelling its perfume. "I

hen I die, Paul," sa

ting drying their hair," said one of

ike. The two departments were for ever at war, and Paul was always finding Fanny in tears

, towards post-time, and all the men united in labour. He liked to watch his fellow-clerks at work. The man was the work and the work was the man,

laze in the valleys. He felt rich in life and happy. Drawing farther off, there was a patch of lights at Bulwell like myriad pet

llages 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

the night. The ash-tree seemed a friend now. His mother rose with gl

mother?" he a

he answered, "after your ticket a

, like an Arabian Nights, was told night after night t