Page 491 - sons-and-lovers

down a steep hill. The street itself was hideous. The house
was rather superior to most. It was old, grimy, with a big bay
window, and it was semi-detached; but it looked gloomy.
Then Paul opened the door to the garden, and all was dif-
ferent. The sunny afternoon was there, like another land. By
the path grew tansy and little trees. In front of the window
was a plot of sunny grass, with old lilacs round it. And away
went the garden, with heaps of dishevelled chrysanthe-
mums in the sunshine, down to the sycamore-tree, and the
field, and beyond one looked over a few red-roofed cottages
to the hills with all the glow of the autumn afternoon.
Mrs. Morel sat in her rocking-chair, wearing her black
silk blouse. Her grey-brown hair was taken smooth back
from her brow and her high temples; her face was rather
pale. Clara, suffering, followed Paul into the kitchen. Mrs.
Morel rose. Clara thought her a lady, even rather stiff. The
young woman was very nervous. She had almost a wistful
look, almost resigned.
‘Mother—Clara,’ said Paul.
Mrs. Morel held out her hand and smiled.
‘He has told me a good deal about you,’ she said.
The blood flamed in Clara’s cheek.
‘I hope you don’t mind my coming,’ she faltered.
‘I was pleased when he said he would bring you,’ replied
Mrs. Morel.
Paul, watching, felt his heart contract with pain. His
mother looked so small, and sallow, and done-for beside
the luxuriant Clara.
‘It’s such a pretty day, mother!’ he said. ‘And we saw a

0 Sons and Lovers