Women in Love

There was a darkness over his mind. The terrible knot of consciousness

that had persisted there like an obsession was broken, gone, his life

was dissolved in darkness over his limbs and his body. But there was a

point of anxiety in his heart now. He wanted her to come back. He

breathed lightly and regularly like an infant, that breathes

innocently, beyond the touch of responsibility.

She was coming back. He saw her drifting desultorily under the high

hedge, advancing towards him slowly. He did not move, he did not look

again. He was as if asleep, at peace, slumbering and utterly relaxed.

She came up and stood before him, hanging her head.

'See what a flower I found you,' she said, wistfully holding a piece of

purple-red bell-heather under his face. He saw the clump of coloured

bells, and the tree-like, tiny branch: also her hands, with their

over-fine, over-sensitive skin.

'Pretty!' he said, looking up at her with a smile, taking the flower.

Everything had become simple again, quite simple, the complexity gone

into nowhere. But he badly wanted to cry: except that he was weary and

bored by emotion.

Then a hot passion of tenderness for her filled his heart. He stood up

and looked into her face. It was new and oh, so delicate in its

luminous wonder and fear. He put his arms round her, and she hid her

face on his shoulder.

It was peace, just simple peace, as he stood folding her quietly there

on the open lane. It was peace at last. The old, detestable world of

tension had passed away at last, his soul was strong and at ease.

She looked up at him. The wonderful yellow light in her eyes now was

soft and yielded, they were at peace with each other. He kissed her,

softly, many, many times. A laugh came into her eyes.

'Did I abuse you?' she asked.

He smiled too, and took her hand, that was so soft and given.

'Never mind,' she said, 'it is all for the good.' He kissed her again,

softly, many times.

'Isn't it?' she said.

'Certainly,' he replied. 'Wait! I shall have my own back.' She laughed suddenly, with a wild catch in her voice, and flung her

arms around him.

'You are mine, my love, aren't you?' she cried straining him close.

'Yes,' he said, softly.

His voice was so soft and final, she went very still, as if under a

fate which had taken her. Yes, she acquiesced--but it was accomplished

without her acquiescence. He was kissing her quietly, repeatedly, with

a soft, still happiness that almost made her heart stop beating.