Page:Sons and Lovers, 1913, Lawrence.djvu/412

400 “Drink some tea,” he said.

They went upstairs again. Soon the neighbours came with their frightened question:

“How is she?”

It went on just the same. She lay with her cheek in her hand, her mouth fallen open, and the great, ghastly snores came and went.

At ten o’clock nurse came. She looked strange and woe-begone.

“Nurse,” cried Paul, “she’ll last like this for days?”

“She can’t, Mr. Morel,” said nurse. “She can’t.”

There was a silence.

“Isn’t it dreadful!” wailed the nurse. “Who would have though she could stand it? Go down now, Mr. Morel, go down.”

At last, at about eleven o’clock, he went downstairs and sat in the neighbour’s house. Annie was downstairs also. Nurse and Arthur were upstairs. Paul sat with his head in his hands. Suddenly Annie came flying across the yard crying, half mad:

“Paul—Paul—she’s gone!”

In a second he was back in his own house and upstairs. She lay curled up and still, with her face on her hand, and nurse was wiping her mouth. They all stood back. He kneeled down, and put his face to hers and his arms round her:

“My love—my love—oh, my love!” he whispered again and again. “My love—oh, my love!”

Then he heard the nurse behind him, crying, saying:

“She’s better, Mr. Morel, she’s better.”

When he took his face up from his warm, dead mother he went straight downstairs and began blacking his boots.

There was a good deal to do, letters to write, and so on. The doctor came and glanced at her, and sighed.

“Ay poor thing!” he said, then turned away. “Well, call at the surgery about six for the certificate.”

The father came home from work at about four o’clock. He dragged silently into the house and sat down. Minnie bustled to give him his dinner. Tired, he laid his black arms on the table. There were swede turnips for his dinner, which he liked. Paul wondered if he knew. It was some time, and nobody had spoken. At last the son said:

“You noticed the blinds were down?”

Morel looked up.