Page 490 - sons-and-lovers

So he chattered, scarcely aware of what he said, only
knowing he was putting berries in the bosom of her coat,
while she stood patiently for him. And she watched his
quick hands, so full of life, and it seemed to her she had
never SEEN anything before. Till now, everything had been
indistinct.
They came near to the colliery. It stood quite still and
black among the corn-fields, its immense heap of slag seen
rising almost from the oats.
‘What a pity there is a coal-pit here where it is so pretty!’
said Clara.
‘Do you think so?’ he answered. ‘You see, I am so used
to it I should miss it. No; and I like the pits here and there.
I like the rows of trucks, and the headstocks, and the steam
in the daytime, and the lights at night. When I was a boy,
I always thought a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire
by night was a pit, with its steam, and its lights, and the
burning bank,—and I thought the Lord was always at the
pit-top.’
As they drew near home she walked in silence, and
seemed to hang back. He pressed her fingers in his own. She
flushed, but gave no response.
‘Don’t you want to come home?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I want to come,’ she replied.
It did not occur to him that her position in his home
would be rather a peculiar and difficult one. To him it
seemed just as if one of his men friends were going to be in-
troduced to his mother, only nicer.
The Morels lived in a house in an ugly street that ran