Women in Love

The week passed away. On the Saturday it rained, a soft drizzling rain

that held off at times. In one of the intervals Gudrun and Ursula set

out for a walk, going towards Willey Water. The atmosphere was grey and

translucent, the birds sang sharply on the young twigs, the earth would

be quickening and hastening in growth. The two girls walked swiftly,

gladly, because of the soft, subtle rush of morning that filled the wet

haze. By the road the black-thorn was in blossom, white and wet, its

tiny amber grains burning faintly in the white smoke of blossom. Purple

twigs were darkly luminous in the grey air, high hedges glowed like

living shadows, hovering nearer, coming into creation. The morning was

full of a new creation.

When the sisters came to Willey Water, the lake lay all grey and

visionary, stretching into the moist, translucent vista of trees and

meadow. Fine electric activity in sound came from the dumbles below the

road, the birds piping one against the other, and water mysteriously

plashing, issuing from the lake.

The two girls drifted swiftly along. In front of them, at the corner of

the lake, near the road, was a mossy boat-house under a walnut tree,

and a little landing-stage where a boat was moored, wavering like a

shadow on the still grey water, below the green, decayed poles. All was

shadowy with coming summer.

Suddenly, from the boat-house, a white figure ran out, frightening in

its swift sharp transit, across the old landing-stage. It launched in a

white arc through the air, there was a bursting of the water, and among

the smooth ripples a swimmer was making out to space, in a centre of

faintly heaving motion. The whole otherworld, wet and remote, he had to

himself. He could move into the pure translucency of the grey,

uncreated water.

Gudrun stood by the stone wall, watching.

'How I envy him,' she said, in low, desirous tones.

'Ugh!' shivered Ursula. 'So cold!' 'Yes, but how good, how really fine, to swim out there!' The sisters

stood watching the swimmer move further into the grey, moist, full

space of the water, pulsing with his own small, invading motion, and

arched over with mist and dim woods.

'Don't you wish it were you?' asked Gudrun, looking at Ursula.

'I do,' said Ursula. 'But I'm not sure--it's so wet.' 'No,' said Gudrun, reluctantly. She stood watching the motion on the

bosom of the water, as if fascinated. He, having swum a certain

distance, turned round and was swimming on his back, looking along the

water at the two girls by the wall. In the faint wash of motion, they

could see his ruddy face, and could feel him watching them.