Page 429 - sons-and-lovers

mother. They preferred themselves to suffer the misery of
celibacy, rather than risk the other person.
He went back to her. Something in her, when he looked
at her, brought the tears almost to his eyes. One day he
stood behind her as she sang. Annie was playing a song on
the piano. As Miriam sang her mouth seemed hopeless. She
sang like a nun singing to heaven. It reminded him so much
of the mouth and eyes of one who sings beside a Botticel-
li Madonna, so spiritual. Again, hot as steel, came up the
pain in him. Why must he ask her for the other thing? Why
was there his blood battling with her? If only he could have
been always gentle, tender with her, breathing with her the
atmosphere of reverie and religious dreams, he would give
his right hand. It was not fair to hurt her. There seemed an
eternal maidenhood about her; and when he thought of her
mother, he saw the great brown eyes of a maiden who was
nearly scared and shocked out of her virgin maidenhood,
but not quite, in spite of her seven children. They had been
born almost leaving her out of count, not of her, but upon
her. So she could never let them go, because she never had
possessed them.
Mrs. Morel saw him going again frequently to Miriam,
and was astonished. He said nothing to his mother. He did
not explain nor excuse himself. If he came home late, and
she reproached him, he frowned and turned on her in an
overbearing way:
‘I shall come home when I like,’ he said; ‘I am old
enough.’
‘Must she keep you till this time?’

Sons and Lovers