Page 499 - sons-and-lovers

‘Yes.’
They parted. He felt guilty towards her. She was bitter,
and she scorned him. He still belonged to herself, she be-
lieved; yet he could have Clara, take her home, sit with her
next his mother in chapel, give her the same hymn-book
he had given herself years before. She heard him running
quickly indoors.
But he did not go straight in. Halting on the plot of grass,
he heard his mother’s voice, then Clara’s answer:
‘What I hate is the bloodhound quality in Miriam.’
‘Yes,’ said his mother quickly, ‘yes; DOESN’T it make
you hate her, now!’
His heart went hot, and he was angry with them for
talking about the girl. What right had they to say that?
Something in the speech itself stung him into a flame of hate
against Miriam. Then his own heart rebelled furiously at
Clara’s taking the liberty of speaking so about Miriam. Af-
ter all, the girl was the better woman of the two, he thought,
if it came to goodness. He went indoors. His mother looked
excited. She was beating with her hand rhythmically on the
sofa-arm, as women do who are wearing out. He could nev-
er bear to see the movement. There was a silence; then he
began to talk.
In chapel Miriam saw him find the place in the hymn-
book for Clara, in exactly the same way as he used for
herself. And during the sermon he could see the girl across
the chapel, her hat throwing a dark shadow over her face.
What did she think, seeing Clara with him? He did not stop
to consider. He felt himself cruel towards Miriam.

Sons and Lovers