Women in Love

'Where, where? There you are--that's it. Which? No--No-o-o. Damn it

all, here, HERE--' Boats were hurrying from all directions to the

scene, coloured lanterns could be seen waving close to the surface of

the lake, reflections swaying after them in uneven haste. The steamer

hooted again, for some unknown reason. Gudrun's boat was travelling

quickly, the lanterns were swinging behind Gerald.

And then again came the child's high, screaming voice, with a note of

weeping and impatience in it now: 'Di--Oh Di--Oh Di--Di--!' It was a terrible sound, coming through the obscure air of the evening.

'You'd be better if you were in bed, Winnie,' Gerald muttered to

himself.

He was stooping unlacing his shoes, pushing them off with the foot.

Then he threw his soft hat into the bottom of the boat.

'You can't go into the water with your hurt hand,' said Gudrun,

panting, in a low voice of horror.

'What? It won't hurt.' He had struggled out of his jacket, and had dropped it between his

feet. He sat bare-headed, all in white now. He felt the belt at his

waist. They were nearing the launch, which stood still big above them,

her myriad lamps making lovely darts, and sinuous running tongues of

ugly red and green and yellow light on the lustrous dark water, under

the shadow.

'Oh get her out! Oh Di, DARLING! Oh get her out! Oh Daddy, Oh Daddy!'

moaned the child's voice, in distraction. Somebody was in the water,

with a life belt. Two boats paddled near, their lanterns swinging

ineffectually, the boats nosing round.

'Hi there--Rockley!--hi there!' 'Mr Gerald!' came the captain's terrified voice. 'Miss Diana's in the

water.' 'Anybody gone in for her?' came Gerald's sharp voice.

'Young Doctor Brindell, sir.' 'Where?' 'Can't see no signs of them, sir. Everybody's looking, but there's

nothing so far.' There was a moment's ominous pause.

'Where did she go in?' 'I think--about where that boat is,' came the uncertain answer, 'that

one with red and green lights.' 'Row there,' said Gerald quietly to Gudrun.

'Get her out, Gerald, oh get her out,' the child's voice was crying

anxiously. He took no heed.

'Lean back that way,' said Gerald to Gudrun, as he stood up in the

frail boat. 'She won't upset.' In another moment, he had dropped clean down, soft and plumb, into the

water. Gudrun was swaying violently in her boat, the agitated water

shook with transient lights, she realised that it was faintly

moonlight, and that he was gone. So it was possible to be gone. A

terrible sense of fatality robbed her of all feeling and thought. She

knew he was gone out of the world, there was merely the same world, and

absence, his absence. The night seemed large and vacuous. Lanterns

swayed here and there, people were talking in an undertone on the

launch and in the boats. She could hear Winifred moaning: 'OH DO FIND

HER GERALD, DO FIND HER,' and someone trying to comfort the child.

Gudrun paddled aimlessly here and there. The terrible, massive, cold,

boundless surface of the water terrified her beyond words. Would he

never come back? She felt she must jump into the water too, to know the

horror also.