Page 495 - sons-and-lovers

loitered among the chrysanthemums. She felt as if some-
thing almost tangible fastened her to him; yet he seemed so
easy in his graceful, indolent movement, so detached as he
tied up the too-heavy flower branches to their stakes, that
she wanted to shriek in her helplessness.
Mrs. Morel rose.
‘You will let me help you wash up,’ said Clara.
‘Eh, there are so few, it will only take a minute,’ said the
other.
Clara, however, dried the tea-things, and was glad to be
on such good terms with his mother; but it was torture not
to be able to follow him down the garden. At last she al-
lowed herself to go; she felt as if a rope were taken off her
ankle.
The afternoon was golden over the hills of Derbyshire.
He stood across in the other garden, beside a bush of pale
Michaelmas daisies, watching the last bees crawl into the
hive. Hearing her coming, he turned to her with an easy
motion, saying:
‘It’s the end of the run with these chaps.’
Clara stood near him. Over the low red wall in front was
the country and the far-off hills, all golden dim.
At that moment Miriam was entering through the gar-
den-door. She saw Clara go up to him, saw him turn, and
saw them come to rest together. Something in their perfect
isolation together made her know that it was accomplished
between them, that they were, as she put it, married. She
walked very slowly down the cinder-track of the long gar-
den.

Sons and Lovers