MrsBoltonwasforamomentbreathless，flabbergasted。Thenshedidn’tbelieveit：shesawinitaruse。Yetdoctorscoulddosuchthingsnowadays。
Theymightsortofgraftseed。
`Well，myLady，Ionlyhopeandprayyoumay。Itwouldbelovelyforyou：andforeverybody。Myword，achildinWragby，whatadifferenceitwouldmake!’
`Wouldn’tit!’saidConnie。
AndshechosethreeR。A。picturesofsixtyyearsago，tosendtotheDuchessofShortlandsforthatlady’snextcharitablebazaar。Shewascalled`thebazaarduchess’，andshealwaysaskedallthecountytosendthingsforhertosell。ShewouldbedelightedwiththreeframedR。A。s。Shemightevencall，onthestrengthofthem。HowfuriousCliffordwaswhenshecalled!
Butohmydear!MrsBoltonwasthinkingtoherself。IsitOliverMellors’
childyou’repreparingusfor？Ohmydear，thatwouldbeaTevershallbabyintheWragbycradle，myword!Wouldn’tshameit，neither!
Amongothermonstrositiesinthislumberroomwasalargishblackjapannedbox，excellentlyandingeniouslymadesomesixtyorseventyyearsago，andfittedwitheveryimaginableobject。Ontopwasaconcentratedtoiletset：brushes，bottles，mirrors，combs，boxes，eventhreebeautifullittlerazorsinsafetysheaths，shaving-bowlandall。Underneathcameasortofescritoireoutfit：blotters，pens，ink-bottles，paper，envelopes，memorandumbooks：andthenaperfectsewing-outfit，withthreedifferentsizedscissors，thimbles，needles，silksandcottons，darningegg，alloftheverybestqualityandperfectlyfinished。Thentherewasalittlemedicinestore，withbottleslabelledLaudanum，TinctureofMyrrh，Ess。
Clovesandsoon：butempty。Everythingwasperfectlynew，andthewholething，whenshutup，wasasbigasasmall，butfatweekendbag。Andinside，itfittedtogetherlikeapuzzle。Thebottlescouldnotpossiblyhavespilled：
therewasn’troom。
Thethingwaswonderfullymadeandcontrived，excellentcraftsmanshipoftheVictorianorder。Butsomehowitwasmonstrous。SomeChatterleymustevenhavefeltit，forthethinghadneverbeenused。Ithadapeculiarsoullessness。
YetMrsBoltonwasthrilled。
`Lookwhatbeautifulbrushes，soexpensive，eventheshavingbrushes，threeperfectones!No!andthosescissors!They’rethebestthatmoneycouldbuy。Oh，Icallitlovely!’
`Doyou？’saidConnie。`Thenyouhaveit。’
`Ohno，myLady!’
`Ofcourse!ItwillonlylieheretillDoomsday。Ifyouwon’thaveit，I’llsendittotheDuchessaswellasthepictures，andshedoesn’tdeservesomuch。Dohaveit!’
`Oh，yourLadyship!Why，Ishallneverbeabletothankyou。’
`Youneedn’ttry，’laughedConnie。
AndMrsBoltonsaileddownwiththehugeandveryblackboxinherarms，flushingbrightpinkinherexcitement。
MrBettsdroveherinthetraptoherhouseinthevillage，withthebox。Andshehadtohaveafewfriendsin，toshowit：theschool-mistress，thechemist’swife，MrsWeedontheundercashier’swife。Theythoughtitmarvellous。AndthenstartedthewhisperofLadyChatterley’schild。
`Wonders’llnevercease!’saidMrsWeedon。
ButMrsBoltonwasconvinced，ifitdidcome，itwouldbeSirClifford’schild。Sothere!
Notlongafter，therectorsaidgentlytoClifford：
`AndmaywereallyhopeforanheirtoWragby？Ah，thatwouldbethehandofGodinmercy，indeed!’
`Well!Wemayhope，’saidClifford，withafaintirony，andatthesametime，acertainconviction。Hehadbeguntobelieveitreallypossibleitmightevenbehischild。
ThenoneafternooncameLeslieWinter，SquireWinter，aseverybodycalledhim：lean，immaculate，andseventy：andeveryinchagentleman，asMrsBoltonsaidtoMrsBetts。Everymillimetreindeed!Andwithhisold-fashioned，ratherhaw-haw!mannerofspeaking，heseemedmoreoutofdatethanbagwigs。Time，inherflight，dropsthesefineoldfeathers。
Theydiscussedthecollieries。Clifford’sideawas，thathiscoal，eventhepoorsort，couldbemadeintohardconcentratedfuelthatwouldburnatgreatheatiffedwithcertaindamp，acidulatedairatafairlystrongpressure。Ithadlongbeenobservedthatinaparticularlystrong，wetwindthepit-bankburnedveryvivid，gaveoffhardlyanyfumes，andleftafinepowderofash，insteadoftheslowpinkgravel。
`Butwherewillyoufindtheproperenginesforburningyourfuel？’
askedWinter。
`I’llmakethemmyself。AndI’llusemyfuelmyself。AndI’llsellelectricpower。I’mcertainIcoulddoit。’
`Ifyoucandoit，thensplendid，splendid，mydearboy。Haw!Splendid!
IfIcanbeofanyhelp，Ishallbedelighted。I’mafraidIamalittleoutofdate，andmycollieriesarelikeme。Butwhoknows，whenI’mgone，theremaybemenlikeyou。Splendid!Itwillemployallthemenagain，andyouwon’thavetosellyourcoal，orfailtosellit。Asplendididea，andIhopeitwillbeasuccess。IfIhadsonsofmyown，nodoubttheywouldhaveup-to-dateideasforShipley：nodoubt!Bytheway，dearboy，isthereanyfoundationtotherumourthatwemayentertainhopesofanheirtoWragby？’
`Istherearumour？’askedClifford。
`Well，mydearboy，MarshallfromFillingwoodaskedme，that’sallI
cansayaboutarumour。OfcourseIwouldn’trepeatitfortheworld，iftherewerenofoundation。’
`Well，Sir，’saidClifforduneasily，butwithstrangebrighteyes。`Thereisahope。Thereisahope。’
WintercameacrosstheroomandwrungClifford’shand。
`Mydearboy，mydearlad，canyoubelievewhatitmeanstome，tohearthat!Andtohearyouareworkinginthehopesofason：andthatyoumayagainemployeverymanatTevershall。Ah，myboy!tokeepuptheleveloftherace，andtohaveworkwaitingforanymanwhocarestowork!——’
Theoldmanwasreallymoved。
NextdayConniewasarrangingtallyellowtulipsinaglassvase。
`Connie，’saidClifford，`didyouknowtherewasarumourthatyouaregoingtosupplyWragbywithasonandheir？’
Conniefeltdimwithterror，yetshestoodquitestill，touchingtheflowers。
`No!’shesaid。`Isitajoke？Ormalice？’
Hepausedbeforeheanswered：
`Neither，Ihope。Ihopeitmaybeaprophecy。’
Conniewentonwithherflowers。
`IhadaletterfromFatherthismorning，’Shesaid。`HewantstoknowifIamawarehehasacceptedSirAlexanderCooper’sInvitationformeforJulyandAugust，totheVillaEsmeraldainVenice。’
`JulyandAugust？’saidClifford。
`Oh，Iwouldn’tstayallthattime。Areyousureyouwouldn’tcome？’
`Iwon’ttravelabroad，’saidCliffordpromptly。Shetookherflowerstothewindow。
`DoyoumindifIgo？’shesaid。Youknowitwaspromised，forthissummer。
`Forhowlongwouldyougo？’
`Perhapsthreeweeks。’
Therewassilenceforatime。
`Well，’saidCliffordslowly，andalittlegloomily。`IsupposeIcouldstanditforthreeweeks：ifIwereabsolutelysureyou’dwanttocomeback。’
`Ishouldwanttocomeback，’shesaid，withaquietsimplicity，heavywithconviction。Shewasthinkingoftheotherman。
Cliffordfeltherconviction，andsomehowhebelievedher，hebelieveditwasforhim。Hefeltimmenselyrelieved，joyfulatonce。
`Inthatcase，’hesaid，`Ithinkitwouldbeallright，don’tyou？’
`Ithinkso，’shesaid。
`You’denjoythechange？’Shelookedupathimwithstrangeblueeyes。
`IshouldliketoseeVeniceagain，’shesaid，`andtobathefromoneoftheshingleislandsacrossthelagoon。ButyouknowIloathetheLido!
AndIdon’tfancyIshalllikeSirAlexanderCooperandLadyCooper。ButifHildaisthere，andwehaveagondolaofourown：yes，itwillberatherlovely。Idowishyou’dcome。’
Shesaiditsincerely。Shewouldsolovetomakehimhappy，intheseways。
`Ah，butthinkofme，though，attheGareduNord：atCalaisquay!’
`Butwhynot？Iseeothermencarriedinlitter-chairs，whohavebeenwoundedinthewar。Besides，we’dmotoralltheway。’
`Weshouldneedtotaketwomen。’
`Ohno!We’dmanagewithField。Therewouldalwaysbeanothermanthere。’
ButCliffordshookhishead。
`Notthisyear，dear!Notthisyear!NextyearprobablyI’lltry。’
Shewentawaygloomily。Nextyear!Whatwouldnextyearbring？SheherselfdidnotreallywanttogotoVenice：notnow，nowtherewastheotherman。
Butshewasgoingasasortofdiscipline：andalsobecause，ifshehadachild，CliffordcouldthinkshehadaloverinVenice。
ItwasalreadyMay，andinJunetheyweresupposedtostart。Alwaysthesearrangements!Alwaysone’slifearrangedforone!Wheelsthatworkedoneanddroveone，andoverwhichonehadnorealcontrol!
ItwasMay，butcoldandwetagain。AcoldwetMay，goodforcornandhay!Muchthecornandhaymatternowadays!ConniehadtogointoUthwaite，whichwastheirlittletown，wheretheChatterleyswerestilltheChatterleys。Shewentalone，Fielddrivingher。
InspiteofMayandanewgreenness，thecountrywasdismal。Itwasratherchilly，andtherewassmokeontherain，andacertainsenseofexhaustvapourintheair。Onejusthadtolivefromone’sresistance。
Nowonderthesepeoplewereuglyandtough。
ThecarplougheduphillthroughthelongsqualidstraggleofTevershall，theblackenedbrickdwellings，theblackslateroofsglisteningtheirsharpedges，themudblackwithcoal-dust，thepavementswetandblack。Itwasasifdismalnesshadsoakedthroughandthrougheverything。Theutternegationofnaturalbeauty，theutternegationofthegladnessoflife，theutterabsenceoftheinstinctforshapelybeautywhicheverybirdandbeasthas，theutterdeathofthehumanintuitivefacultywasappalling。Thestacksofsoapinthegrocers’shops，therhubarbandlemonsinthegreengrocers!
theawfulhatsinthemilliners!allwentbyugly，ugly，ugly，followedbytheplaster-and-gilthorrorofthecinemawithitswetpictureannouncements，`AWoman’sLove!’，andthenewbigPrimitivechapel，primitiveenoughinitsstarkbrickandbigpanesofgreenishandraspberryglassinthewindows。
TheWesleyanchapel，higherup，wasofblackenedbrickandstoodbehindironrailingsandblackenedshrubs。TheCongregationalchapel，whichthoughtitselfsuperior，wasbuiltofrusticatedsandstoneandhadasteeple，butnotaveryhighone。Justbeyondwerethenewschoolbuildings，expensivinkbrick，andgravelledplaygroundinsideironrailings，allveryimposing，andfixingthesuggestionofachapelandaprison。StandardFivegirlswerehavingasinginglesson，justfinishingthela-me-doh-laexercisesandbeginninga`sweetchildren’ssong’。Anythingmoreunlikesong，spontaneoussong，wouldbeimpossibletoimagine：astrangebawlingyellthatfollowedtheoutlinesofatune。Itwasnotlikesavages：savageshavesubtlerhythms。
Itwasnotlikeanimals：animalsmeansomethingwhentheyyell。
Itwaslikenothingonearth，anditwascalledsinging。Conniesatandlistenedwithherheartinherboots，asFieldwasfillingpetrol。Whatcouldpossiblybecomeofsuchapeople，apeopleinwhomthelivingintuitivefacultywasdeadasnails，andonlyqueermechanicalyellsanduncannywill-powerremained？
Acoal-cartwascomingdownhill，clankingintherain。Fieldstartedupwards，pastthebigbutweary-lookingdrapersandclothingshops，thepost-office，intothelittlemarket-placeofforlornspace，whereSamBlackwaspeeringoutofthedooroftheSun，thatcalleditselfaninn，notapub，andwherethecommercialtravellersstayed，andwasbowingtoLadyChatterley’scar。
Thechurchwasawaytotheleftamongblacktrees。Thecarslidondownhill，pasttheMiners’Arms。IthadalreadypassedtheWellington，theNelson，theThreeTuns，andtheSun，nowitpassedtheMiners’Arms，thentheMechanics’
Hall，thenthenewandalmostgaudyMiners’Welfareandso，pastafewnew`villas’，outintotheblackenedroadbetweendarkhedgesanddarkgreenfields，towardsStacksGate。
Tevershall!ThatwasTevershall!MerrieEngland!Shakespeare’sEngland!
No，buttheEnglandoftoday，asConniehadrealizedsinceshehadcometoliveinit。Itwasproducinganewraceofmankind，over-consciousinthemoneyandsocialandpoliticalside，onthespontaneous，intuitivesidedead，butdead。Half-corpses，allofthem：butwithaterribleinsistentconsciousnessintheotherhalf。Therewassomethinguncannyandundergroundaboutitall。Itwasanunder-world。Andquiteincalculable。Howshallweunderstandthereactionsinhalf-corpses？WhenConniesawthegreatlorriesfullofsteel-workersfromSheffield，weird，distortedsmallishbeingslikemen，offforanexcursiontoMatlock，herbowelsfaintedandshethought：AhGod，whathasmandonetoman？Whathavetheleadersofmenbeendoingtotheirfellowmen？Theyhavereducedthemtolessthanhumanness；andnowtherecanbenofellowshipanymore!Itisjustanightmare。
Shefeltagaininawaveofterrorthegrey，grittyhopelessnessofitall。Withsuchcreaturesfortheindustrialmasses，andtheupperclassesassheknewthem，therewasnohope，nohopeanymore。Yetshewaswantingababy，andanheirtoWragby!AnheirtoWragby!Sheshudderedwithdread。
YetMellorshadcomeoutofallthis!——Yes，buthewasasapartfromitallasshewas。Eveninhimtherewasnofellowshipleft。Itwasdead。
Thefellowshipwasdead。Therewasonlyapartnessandhopelessness，asfarasallthiswasconcerned。AndthiswasEngland，thevastbulkofEngland：
asConnieknew，sinceshehadmotoredfromthecentreofit。
ThecarwasrisingtowardsStacksGate。Therainwasholdingoff，andintheaircameaqueerpellucidgleamofMay。Thecountryrolledawayinlongundulations，southtowardsthePeak，easttowardsMansfieldandNottingham。ConniewastravellingSouth。
Assheroseontothehighcountry，shecouldseeonherleft，onaheightabovetherollingland，theshadowy，powerfulbulkofWarsopCastle，darkgrey，withbelowitthereddishplasteringofminers’dwellings，newish，andbelowthosetheplumesofdarksmokeandwhitesteamfromthegreatcollierywhichputsomanythousandpoundsperannumintothepocketsoftheDukeandtheothershareholders。Thepowerfuloldcastlewasaruin，yetithungitsbulkonthelowsky-line，overtheblackplumesandthewhitethatwavedonthedampairbelow。