Page 272 - lady-chatterlys-lover

blueness.
’It’s a very fine colour in itself,’ said Clifford, ‘but useless
for making a painting.’
’Quite!’ said Connie, completely uninterested.
’Shall I venture as far as the spring?’ said Clifford.
’Will the chair get up again?’ she said.
’We’ll try; nothing venture, nothing win!’
And the chair began to advance slowly, joltingly down
the beautiful broad riding washed over with blue encroach-
ing hyacinths. O last of all ships, through the hyacinthian
shallows! O pinnace on the last wild waters, sailing in the
last voyage of our civilization! Whither, O weird wheeled
ship, your slow course steering. Quiet and complacent, Clif-
ford sat at the wheel of adventure: in his old black hat and
tweed jacket, motionless and cautious. O Captain, my Cap-
tain, our splendid trip is done! Not yet though! Downhill, in
the wake, came Constance in her grey dress, watching the
chair jolt downwards.
They passed the narrow track to the hut. Thank heaven
it was not wide enough for the chair: hardly wide enough
for one person. The chair reached the bottom of the slope,
and swerved round, to disappear. And Connie heard a low
whistle behind her. She glanced sharply round: the keeper
was striding downhill towards her, his dog keeping behind
him.
’Is Sir Clifford going to the cottage?’ he asked, looking
into her eyes.
’No, only to the well.’
’Ah! Good! Then I can keep out of sight. But I shall see

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