Page 508 - women-in-love

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.
He was not quite up these stairs when he heard a quick
running of feet below, the outer door was closed and locked,
he heard Ursula’s voice, then the father’s sleepy exclama-
tion. He pressed on swiftly to the upper landing.
Again a door was ajar, a room was empty. Feeling his
way forward, with the tips of his fingers, travelling rapidly,
like a blind man, anxious lest Ursula should come upstairs,
he found another door. There, with his preternaturally fine
sense alert, he listened. He heard someone moving in bed.
This would be she.
Softly now, like one who has only one sense, the tactile
sense, he turned the latch. It clicked. He held still. The bed-
clothes rustled. His heart did not beat. Then again he drew
the latch back, and very gently pushed the door. It made a
sticking noise as it gave.
‘Ursula?’ said Gudrun’s voice, frightened. He quickly
opened the door and pushed it behind him.
‘Is it you, Ursula?’ came Gudrun’s frightened voice. He
heard her sitting up in bed. In another moment she would
scream.
‘No, it’s me,’ he said, feeling his way towards her. ‘It is I,
Gerald.’

508 Women in Love