Odour Of Chrysanthemums.docx

Odour Of Chrysanthemums.docx

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OdourOfChrysanthemums

OdourOfChrysanthemums

Author:

D.H.Lawrence

Thesmalllocomotiveengine,Number4,cameclanking,stumblingdownfromSelston-withsevenfullwaggons.Itappearedroundthecornerwithloudthreatsofspeed,butthecoltthatitstartledfromamongthegorse,whichstillflickeredindistinctlyintherawafternoon,outdistanceditatacanter.Awoman,walkinguptherailwaylinetoUnderwood,drewbackintothehedge,heldherbasketaside,andwatchedthefootplateoftheengineadvancing.Thetrucksthumpedheavilypast,onebyone,withslowinevitablemovement,asshestoodinsignificantlytrappedbetweenthejoltingblackwaggonsandthehedge;thentheycurvedawaytowardsthecoppicewherethewitheredoakleavesdroppednoiselessly,whilethebirds,pullingatthescarlethipsbesidethetrack,madeoffintotheduskthathadalreadycreptintothespinney.Intheopen,thesmokefromtheenginesankandcleavedtotheroughgrass.Thefieldsweredrearyandforsaken,andinthemarshystripthatledtothewhimsey,areedypit-pond,thefowlshadalreadyabandonedtheirrunamongthealders,toroostinthetarredfowl-house.Thepit-bankloomedupbeyondthepond,flameslikeredsoreslickingitsashysides,intheafternoon'sstagnantlight.Justbeyondrosethetaperingchimneysandtheclumsyblackhead-stocksofBrinsleyColliery.Thetwowheelswerespinningfastupagainstthesky,andthewinding-enginerappedoutitslittlespasms.Theminerswerebeingturnedup.

Theenginewhistledasitcameintothewidebayofrailwaylinesbesidethecolliery,whererowsoftrucksstoodinharbour.

Miners,single,trailingandingroups,passedlikeshadowsdiverginghome.Attheedgeoftheribbedlevelofsidingssquatalowcottage,threestepsdownfromthecindertrack.Alargebonyvineclutchedatthehouse,asiftoclawdownthetiledroof.Roundthebrickedyardgrewafewwintryprimroses.Beyond,thelonggardenslopeddowntoabush-coveredbrookcourse.Thereweresometwiggyappletrees,winter-cracktrees,andraggedcabbages.Besidethepathhungdishevelledpinkchrysanthemums,likepinkclothshungonbushes.Awomancamestoopingoutofthefelt-coveredfowl-house,half-waydownthegarden.Sheclosedandpadlockedthedoor,thendrewherselferect,havingbrushedsomebitsfromherwhiteapron.

Shewasatillwomanofimperiousmien,handsome,withdefiniteblackeyebrows.Hersmoothblackhairwaspartedexactly.Forafewmomentsshestoodsteadilywatchingtheminersastheypassedalongtherailway:

thensheturnedtowardsthebrookcourse.Herfacewascalmandset,hermouthwasclosedwithdisillusionment.Afteramomentshecalled:

"John!

"Therewasnoanswer.Shewaited,andthensaiddistinctly:

"Whereareyou?

"

"Here!

"repliedachild'ssulkyvoicefromamongthebushes.Thewomanlookedpiercinglythroughthedusk.

"Areyouatthatbrook?

"sheaskedsternly.

Foranswerthechildshowedhimselfbeforetheraspberry-canesthatroselikewhips.Hewasasmall,sturdyboyoffive.Hestoodquitestill,defiantly.

"Oh!

"saidthemother,conciliated."Ithoughtyouweredownatthatwetbrook-andyourememberwhatItoldyou-"

Theboydidnotmoveoranswer.

"Come,comeonin,"shesaidmoregently,"it'sgettingdark.There'syourgrandfather'senginecomingdowntheline!

"

Theladadvancedslowly,withresentful,taciturnmovement.Hewasdressedintrousersandwaistcoatofcloththatwastoothickandhardforthesizeofthegarments.Theywereevidentlycutdownfromaman'sclothes.

Astheywentslowlytowardsthehousehetoreattheraggedwispsofchrysanthemumsanddroppedthepetalsinhandfulsalongthepath.

"Don'tdothat-itdoeslooknasty,"saidhismother.Herefrained,andshe,suddenlypitiful,brokeoffatwigwiththreeorfourwanflowersandheldthemagainstherface.Whenmotherandsonreachedtheyardherhandhesitated,andinsteadoflayingthefloweraside,shepusheditinherapron-band.Themotherandsonstoodatthefootofthethreestepslookingacrossthebayoflinesatthepassinghomeoftheminers.Thetrundleofthesmalltrainwasimminent.Suddenlytheengineloomedpastthehouseandcametoastopoppositethegate.

Theengine-driver,ashortmanwithroundgreybeard,leanedoutofthecabhighabovethewoman.

"Haveyougotacupoftea?

"hesaidinacheery,heartyfashion.

Itwasherfather.Shewentin,sayingshewouldmash.Directly,shereturned.

"Ididn'tcometoseeyouonSunday,"beganthelittlegrey-beardedman.

"Ididn'texpectyou,"saidhisdaughter.

Theengine-driverwinced;then,reassuminghischeery,airymanner,hesaid:

"Oh,haveyouheardthen?

Well,andwhatdoyouthink-?

"

"Ithinkitissoonenough,"shereplied.

Atherbriefcensurethelittlemanmadeanimpatientgesture,andsaidcoaxingly,yetwithdangerouscoldness:

"Well,what'samantodo?

It'snosortoflifeforamanofmyyears,tositatmyownhearthlikeastranger.AndifI'mgoingtomarryagainitmayaswellbesoonaslate-whatdoesitmattertoanybody?

"

Thewomandidnotreply,butturnedandwentintothehouse.Themanintheengine-cabstoodassertive,tillshereturnedwithacupofteaandapieceofbreadandbutteronaplate.Shewentupthestepsandstoodnearthefootplateofthehissingengine.

"Youneedn't'a'broughtmebreadan'butter,"saidherfather."Butacupoftea"-hesippedappreciatively-"it'sverynice."Hesippedforamomentortwo,then:

"IhearasWalter'sgotanotherbouton,"hesaid.

"Whenhasn'the?

"saidthewomanbitterly.

"Iheeredtellofhiminthe'LordNelson'braggin'ashewasgoingtospendthatb--aforehewent:

halfasovereignthatwas."

"When?

"askedthewoman.

"A'Sat'daynight-Iknowthat'strue."

"Verylikely,"shelaughedbitterly."Hegivesmetwenty-threeshillings."

"Aye,it'sanicething,whenamancandonothingwithhismoneybutmakeabeastofhimself!

"saidthegrey-whiskeredman.Thewomanturnedherheadaway.Herfatherswallowedthelastofhisteaandhandedherthecup.

"Aye,"hesighed,wipinghismouth."It'sasettler,itis-"

Heputhishandonthelever.Thelittleenginestrainedandgroaned,andthetrainrumbledtowardsthecrossing.Thewomanagainlookedacrossthemetals.Darknesswassettlingoverthespacesoftherailwayandtrucks:

theminers,ingreysombregroups,werestillpassinghome.Thewinding-enginepulsedhurriedly,withbriefpauses.ElizabethBateslookedatthedrearyflowofmen,thenshewentindoors.Herhusbanddidnotcome.

Thekitchenwassmallandfulloffirelight;redcoalspiledglowingupthechimneymouth.Allthelifeoftheroomseemedinthewhite,warmhearthandthesteelfenderreflectingtheredfire.Theclothwaslaidfortea;cupsglintedintheshadows.Attheback,wheretheloweststairsprotrudedintotheroom,theboysatstrugglingwithaknifeandapieceofwhitewood.Hewasalmosthiddenintheshadow.Itwashalf-pastfour.Theyhadbuttoawaitthefather'scomingtobegintea.Asthemotherwatchedherson'ssullenlittlestrugglewiththewood,shesawherselfinhissilenceandpertinacity;shesawthefatherinherchild'sindifferencetoallbuthimself.Sheseemedtobeoccupiedbyherhusband.Hehadprobablygonepasthishome,slunkpasthisowndoor,todrinkbeforehecamein,whilehisdinnerspoiledandwastedinwaiting.Sheglancedattheclock,thentookthepotatoestostrainthemintheyard.Thegardenandfieldsbeyondthebrookwereclosedinuncertaindarkness.Whensherosewiththesaucepan,leavingthedrainsteamingintothenightbehindher,shesawtheyellowlampswerelitalongthehighroadthatwentupthehillawaybeyondthespaceoftherailwaylinesandthefield.

Thenagainshewatchedthementroopinghome,fewernowandfewer.

Indoorsthefirewassinkingandtheroomwasdarkred.Thewomanputhersaucepanonthehob,andsetabatterpuddingnearthemouthoftheoven.Thenshestoodunmoving.Directly,gratefully,camequickyoungstepstothedoor.Someonehungonthelatchamoment,thenalittlegirlenteredandbeganpullingoffheroutdoorthings,draggingamassofcurls,justripeningfromgoldtobrown,overhereyeswithherhat.

Hermotherchidherforcominglatefromschool,andsaidshewouldhavetokeepherathomethedarkwinterdays.

"Why,mother,it'shardlyabitdarkyet.Thelamp'snotlighted,andmyfather'snothome."

"No,heisn't.Butit'saquartertofive!

Didyouseeanythingofhim?

"

Thechildbecameserious.Shelookedathermotherwithlarge,wistfulblueeyes.

"No,mother,I'veneverseenhim.Why?

Hashecomeupan'gonepast,toOldBrinsley?

Hehasn't,mother,'cosIneversawhim."

"He'dwatchthat,"saidthemotherbitterly,"he'dtakecareasyoudidn'tseehim.Butyoumaydependuponit,he'sseatedinthe'Princeo'Wales'.Hewouldn'tbethislate."

Thegirllookedathermotherpiteously.

"Let'shaveourteas,mother,shouldwe?

"saidshe.

ThemothercalledJohntotable.Sheopenedthedooroncemoreandlookedoutacrossthedarknessofthelines.Allwasdeserted:

shecouldnothearthewinding-engines.

"Perhaps,"shesaidtoherself,"he'sstoppedtogetsomerippingdone."

Theysatdowntotea.John,attheendofthetablenearthedoor,wasalmostlostinthedarkness.Theirfaceswerehiddenfromeachother.Thegirlcrouchedagainstthefenderslowlymovingathickpieceofbreadbeforethefire.Thelad,hisfaceaduskymarkontheshadow,satwatchingherwhowastransfiguredintheredglow.

"Idothinkit'sbeautifultolookinthefire,"saidthechild.

"Doyou?

"saidhermother."Why?

"

"It'ssored,andfulloflittlecaves-anditfeelssonice,andyoucanfairsmellit."

"It'llwantmend