Women in Love

With heart drawn fine, Gerald stepped into the hall, whose floor was of

coloured tiles, went quickly and looked into the large, pleasant room.

In a chair by the fire, the father sat asleep, his head tilted back

against the side of the big oak chimney piece, his ruddy face seen

foreshortened, the nostrils open, the mouth fallen a little. It would

take the merest sound to wake him.

Gerald stood a second suspended. He glanced down the passage behind

him. It was all dark. Again he was suspended. Then he went swiftly

upstairs. His senses were so finely, almost supernaturally keen, that

he seemed to cast his own will over the half-unconscious house.

He came to the first landing. There he stood, scarcely breathing.

Again, corresponding to the door below, there was a door again. That

would be the mother's room. He could hear her moving about in the

candlelight. She would be expecting her husband to come up. He looked

along the dark landing.

Then, silently, on infinitely careful feet, he went along the passage,

feeling the wall with the extreme tips of his fingers. There was a

door. He stood and listened. He could hear two people's breathing. It

was not that. He went stealthily forward. There was another door,

slightly open. The room was in darkness. Empty. Then there was the

bathroom, he could smell the soap and the heat. Then at the end another

bedroom--one soft breathing. This was she.

With an almost occult carefulness he turned the door handle, and opened

the door an inch. It creaked slightly. Then he opened it another

inch--then another. His heart did not beat, he seemed to create a

silence about himself, an obliviousness.

He was in the room. Still the sleeper breathed softly. It was very

dark. He felt his way forward inch by inch, with his feet and hands. He

touched the bed, he could hear the sleeper. He drew nearer, bending

close as if his eyes would disclose whatever there was. And then, very

near to his face, to his fear, he saw the round, dark head of a boy.

He recovered, turned round, saw the door ajar, a faint light revealed.

And he retreated swiftly, drew the door to without fastening it, and

passed rapidly down the passage. At the head of the stairs he

hesitated. There was still time to flee.

But it was unthinkable. He would maintain his will. He turned past the

door of the parental bedroom like a shadow, and was climbing the second

flight of stairs. They creaked under his weight--it was exasperating.

Ah what disaster, if the mother's door opened just beneath him, and she

saw him! It would have to be, if it were so. He held the control still.