Complete Works. D. H. Lawrence

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СКАЧАТЬ break off with Miriam, mother,” he answered calmly.

      She looked up at him over her spectacles. He was staring back at her, unswerving. She met his eyes for a moment, then took off her glasses. He was white. The male was up in him, dominant. She did not want to see him too clearly.

      “But I thought—” she began.

      “Well,” he answered, “I don't love her. I don't want to marry her—so I shall have done.”

      “But,” exclaimed his mother, amazed, “I thought lately you had made up your mind to have her, and so I said nothing.”

      “I had—I wanted to—but now I don't want. It's no good. I shall break off on Sunday. I ought to, oughtn't I?”

      “You know best. You know I said so long ago.”

      “I can't help that now. I shall break off on Sunday.”

      “Well,” said his mother, “I think it will be best. But lately I decided you had made up your mind to have her, so I said nothing, and should have said nothing. But I say as I have always said, I DON'T think she is suited to you.”

      “On Sunday I break off,” he said, smelling the pink. He put the flower in his mouth. Unthinking, he bared his teeth, closed them on the blossom slowly, and had a mouthful of petals. These he spat into the fire, kissed his mother, and went to bed.

      On Sunday he went up to the farm in the early afternoon. He had written Miriam that they would walk over the fields to Hucknall. His mother was very tender with him. He said nothing. But she saw the effort it was costing. The peculiar set look on his face stilled her.

      “Never mind, my son,” she said. “You will be so much better when it is all over.”

      Paul glanced swiftly at his mother in surprise and resentment. He did not want sympathy.

      Miriam met him at the lane-end. She was wearing a new dress of figured muslin that had short sleeves. Those short sleeves, and Miriam's brown-skinned arms beneath them—such pitiful, resigned arms—gave him so much pain that they helped to make him cruel. She had made herself look so beautiful and fresh for him. She seemed to blossom for him alone. Every time he looked at her—a mature young woman now, and beautiful in her new dress—it hurt so much that his heart seemed almost to be bursting with the restraint he put on it. But he had decided, and it was irrevocable.

      On the hills they sat down, and he lay with his head in her lap, whilst she fingered his hair. She knew that “he was not there,” as she put it. Often, when she had him with her, she looked for him, and could not find him. But this afternoon she was not prepared.

      It was nearly five o'clock when he told her. They were sitting on the bank of a stream, where the lip of turf hung over a hollow bank of yellow earth, and he was hacking away with a stick, as he did when he was perturbed and cruel.

      “I have been thinking,” he said, “we ought to break off.”

      “Why?” she cried in surprise.

      “Because it's no good going on.”

      “Why is it no good?”

      “It isn't. I don't want to marry. I don't want ever to marry. And if we're not going to marry, it's no good going on.”

      “But why do you say this now?”

      “Because I've made up my mind.”

      “And what about these last months, and the things you told me then?”

      “I can't help it! I don't want to go on.”

      “You don't want any more of me?”

      “I want us to break off—you be free of me, I free of you.”

      “And what about these last months?”

      “I don't know. I've not told you anything but what I thought was true.”

      “Then why are you different now?”

      “I'm not—I'm the same—only I know it's no good going on.”

      “You haven't told me why it's no good.”

      “Because I don't want to go on—and I don't want to marry.”

      “How many times have you offered to marry me, and I wouldn't?”

      “I know; but I want us to break off.”

      There was silence for a moment or two, while he dug viciously at the earth. She bent her head, pondering. He was an unreasonable child. He was like an infant which, when it has drunk its fill, throws away and smashes the cup. She looked at him, feeling she could get hold of him and WRING some consistency out of him. But she was helpless. Then she cried:

      “I have said you were only fourteen—you are only FOUR!”

      He still dug at the earth viciously. He heard.

      “You are a child of four,” she repeated in her anger.

      He did not answer, but said in his heart: “All right; if I'm a child of four, what do you want me for? I don't want another mother.” But he said nothing to her, and there was silence.

      “And have you told your people?” she asked.

      “I have told my mother.”

      There was another long interval of silence.

      “Then what do you WANT?” she asked.

      “Why, I want us to separate. We have lived on each other all these years; now let us stop. I will go my own way without you, and you will go your way without me. You will have an independent life of your own then.”

      There was in it some truth that, in spite of her bitterness, she could not help registering. She knew she felt in a sort of bondage to him, which she hated because she could not control it. She hated her love for him from the moment it grew too strong for her. And, deep down, she had hated him because she loved him and he dominated her. She had resisted his domination. She had fought to keep herself free of him in the last issue. And she was free of him, even more than he of her.

      “And,” he continued, “we shall always be more or less each other's work. You have done a lot for me, I for you. Now let us start and live by ourselves.”

      “What do you want to do?” she asked.

      “Nothing—only to be free,” he answered.

      She, however, knew in her heart that Clara's influence was over him to liberate him. But she said nothing.

      “And what have I to tell my mother?” she asked.

      “I told my mother,” he answered, “that I was breaking off—clean and altogether.”

      “I shall not tell them at home,” she said.

      Frowning, “You please yourself,” he said.

      He СКАЧАТЬ