Women in Love

And even he was glad to be checked, rebuked, held back. For to desire

is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as

deeply as it was desired.

They walked on towards the town, towards where the lamps threaded

singly, at long intervals down the dark high-road of the valley. They

came at length to the gate of the drive.

'Don't come any further,' she said.

'You'd rather I didn't?' he asked, relieved. He did not want to go up

the public streets with her, his soul all naked and alight as it was.

'Much rather--good-night.' She held out her hand. He grasped it, then

touched the perilous, potent fingers with his lips.

'Good-night,' he said. 'Tomorrow.' And they parted. He went home full of the strength and the power of

living desire.

But the next day, she did not come, she sent a note that she was kept

indoors by a cold. Here was a torment! But he possessed his soul in

some sort of patience, writing a brief answer, telling her how sorry he

was not to see her.

The day after this, he stayed at home--it seemed so futile to go down

to the office. His father could not live the week out. And he wanted to

be at home, suspended.

Gerald sat on a chair by the window in his father's room. The landscape

outside was black and winter-sodden. His father lay grey and ashen on

the bed, a nurse moved silently in her white dress, neat and elegant,

even beautiful. There was a scent of eau-de-cologne in the room. The

nurse went out of the room, Gerald was alone with death, facing the

winter-black landscape.

'Is there much more water in Denley?' came the faint voice, determined

and querulous, from the bed. The dying man was asking about a leakage

from Willey Water into one of the pits.

'Some more--we shall have to run off the lake,' said Gerald.

'Will you?' The faint voice filtered to extinction. There was dead

stillness. The grey-faced, sick man lay with eyes closed, more dead

than death. Gerald looked away. He felt his heart was seared, it would

perish if this went on much longer.

Suddenly he heard a strange noise. Turning round, he saw his father's

eyes wide open, strained and rolling in a frenzy of inhuman struggling.

Gerald started to his feet, and stood transfixed in horror.

'Wha-a-ah-h-h-' came a horrible choking rattle from his father's

throat, the fearful, frenzied eye, rolling awfully in its wild

fruitless search for help, passed blindly over Gerald, then up came the

dark blood and mess pumping over the face of the agonised being. The

tense body relaxed, the head fell aside, down the pillow.