Aturn，andtheyranonthehighleveltoStacksGate。StacksGate，asseenfromthehighroad，wasjustahugeandgorgeousnewhotel，theConingsbyArms，standingredandwhiteandgiltinbarbarousisolationofftheroad。Butifyoulooked，yousawontheleftrowsofhandsome`modern’
dwellings，setdownlikeagameofdominoes，withspacesandgardens，aqueergameofdominoesthatsomeweird`masters’wereplayingonthesurprisedearth。Andbeyondtheseblocksofdwellings，attheback，rosealltheastonishingandfrighteningoverheaderectionsofareallymodernmine，chemicalworksandlonggalleries，enormous，andofshapesnotbeforeknowntoman。Thehead-stockandpit-bankofthemineitselfwereinsignificantamongthehugenewinstallations。Andinfrontofthis，thegameofdominoesstoodforeverinasortofsurprise，waitingtobeplayed。
ThiswasStacksGate，newonthefaceoftheearth，sincethewar。Butasamatteroffact，thoughevenConniedidnotknowit，downhillhalfamilebelowthe`hotel’wasoldStacksGate，withalittleoldcollieryandblackisholdbrickdwellings，andachapelortwoandashoportwoandalittlepubortwo。
Butthatdidn’tcountanymore。Thevastplumesofsmokeandvapourrosefromthenewworksupabove，andthiswasnowStacksGate：nochapels，nopubs，evennoshops。Onlythegreatworks’，whicharethemodernOlympiawithtemplestoallthegods；thenthemodeldwellings：thenthehotel。
Thehotelinactualitywasnothingbutaminers’pubthoughitlookedfirst-classy。
EvensinceConnie’sarrivalatWragbythisnewplacehadarisenonthefaceoftheearth，andthemodeldwellingshadfilledwithriff-raffdriftinginfromanywhere，topoachClifford’srabbitsamongotheroccupations。
Thecarranonalongtheuplands，seeingtherollingcountyspreadout。
Thecounty!Ithadoncebeenaproudandlordlycounty。Infront，loomingagainandhangingonthebrowofthesky-line，wasthehugeandsplendidbulkofChadwickHall，morewindowthanwall，oneofthemostfamousElizabethanhouses。Nobleitstoodaloneaboveagreatpark，butoutofdate，passedover。Itwasstillkeptup，butasashowplace。`Lookhowourancestorslordedit!’
Thatwasthepast。Thepresentlaybelow。Godaloneknowswherethefuturelies。Thecarwasalreadyturning，betweenlittleoldblackenedminers’cottages，todescendtoUthwaite。AndUthwaite，onadampday，wassendingupawholearrayofsmokeplumesandsteam，towhatevergodstherebe。Uthwaitedowninthevalley，withallthesteelthreadsoftherailwaystoSheffielddrawnthroughit，andthecoal-minesandthesteel-workssendingupsmokeandglarefromlongtubes，andthepatheticlittlecorkscrewspireofthechurch，thatisgoingtotumbledown，stillprickingthefumes，alwaysaffectedConniestrangely。Itwasanoldmarket-town，centreofthedales。OneofthechiefinnswastheChatterleyArms。There，inUthwaite，WragbywasknownasWragby，asifitwereawholeplace，notjustahouse，asitwastooutsiders：WragbyHall，nearTevershall：Wragby，a`seat’。
Theminers’cottages，blackened，stoodflushonthepavement，withthatintimacyandsmallnessofcolliers’dwellingsoverahundredyearsold。
Theylinedalltheway。Theroadhadbecomeastreet，andasyousank，youforgotinstantlytheopen，rollingcountrywherethecastlesandbighousesstilldominated，butlikeghosts。Nowyouwerejustabovethetangleofnakedrailway-lines，andfoundriesandother`works’roseaboutyou，sobigyouwereonlyawareofwalls。Andironclankedwithahugereverberatingclank，andhugelorriesshooktheearth，andwhistlesscreamed。
Yetagain，onceyouhadgotrightdownandintothetwistedandcrookedheartofthetown，behindthechurch，youwereintheworldoftwocenturiesago，inthecrookedstreetswheretheChatterleyArmsstood，andtheoldpharmacy，streetswhichusedtoleadOuttothewildopenworldofthecastlesandstatelycouchanthouses。
Butatthecornerapolicemanhelduphishandasthreelorriesloadedwithironrolledpast，shakingthepooroldchurch。Andnottillthelorrieswerepastcouldhesaluteherladyship。
Soitwas。Upontheoldcrookedburgessstreetshordesofoldishblackenedminers’dwellingscrowded，liningtheroadsout。Andimmediatelyafterthesecamethenewer，pinkerrowsofratherlargerhouses，plasteringthevalley：thehomesofmoremodernworkmen。Andbeyondthatagain，inthewiderollingregionsofthecastles，smokewavedagainststeam，andpatchafterpatchofrawreddishbrickshowedthenewerminingsettlements，sometimesinthehollows，sometimesgruesomelyuglyalongthesky-lineoftheslopes。
Andbetween，inbetween，werethetatteredremnantsoftheoldcoachingandcottageEngland，eventheEnglandofRobinHood，wheretheminersprowledwiththedismalnessofsuppressedsportinginstincts，whentheywerenotatwork。
England，myEngland!ButwhichismyEngland？ThestatelyhomesofEnglandmakegoodphotographs，andcreatetheillusionofaconnexionwiththeElizabethans。Thehandsomeoldhallsarethere，fromthedaysofGoodQueenAnneandTomJones。Butsmutsfallandblackenonthedrabstucco，thathaslongceasedtobegolden。Andonebyone，likethestatelyhomes，theywereabandoned。Nowtheyarebeingpulleddown。AsforthecottagesofEngland——theretheyare——greatplasteringsofbrickdwellingsonthehopelesscountryside。
`Nowtheyarepullingdownthestatelyhomes，theGeorgianhallsaregoing。Fritchley，aperfectoldGeorgianmansion，wasevennow，asConniepassedinthecar，beingdemolished。Itwasinperfectrepair：tillthewartheWeatherleyshadlivedinstylethere。Butnowitwastoobig，tooexpensive，andthecountryhadbecometoouncongenial。Thegentryweredepartingtopleasanterplaces，wheretheycouldspendtheirmoneywithouthavingtoseehowitwasmade。’
Thisishistory。OneEnglandblotsoutanother。Themineshadmadethehallswealthy。Nowtheywereblottingthemout，astheyhadalreadyblottedoutthecottages。TheindustrialEnglandblotsouttheagriculturalEngland。
Onemeaningblotsoutanother。ThenewEnglandblotsouttheoldEngland。
AndthecontinuityisnotOrganic，butmechanical。
Connie，belongingtotheleisuredclasses，hadclungtotheremnantsoftheoldEngland。IthadtakenheryearstorealizethatitwasreallyblottedoutbythisterrifyingnewandgruesomeEngland，andthattheblottingoutwouldgoontillitwascomplete。Fritchleywasgone，Eastwoodwasgone，Shipleywasgoing：SquireWinter’sbelovedShipley。
ConniecalledforamomentatShipley。Theparkgates，attheback，openedjustnearthelevelcrossingofthecollieryrailway；theShipleycollieryitselfstoodjustbeyondthetrees。Thegatesstoodopen，becausethroughtheparkwasaright-of-waythatthecolliersused。Theyhungaroundthepark。
Thecarpassedtheornamentalponds，inwhichthecolliersthrewtheirnewspapers，andtooktheprivatedrivetothehouse。Itstoodabove，aside，averypleasantstuccobuildingfromthemiddleoftheeighteenthcentury。
Ithadabeautifulalleyofyewtrees，thathadapproachedanolderhouse，andthehallstoodserenelyspreadout，winkingitsGeorgianpanesasifcheerfully。Behind，therewerereallybeautifulgardens。
ConnielikedtheinteriormuchbetterthanWragby。Itwasmuchlighter，morealive，shapenandelegant。Theroomswerepanelledwithcreamypaintedpanelling，theceilingsweretouchedwithgilt，andeverythingwaskeptinexquisiteorder，alltheappointmentswereperfect，regardlessofexpense。
Eventhecorridorsmanagedtobeampleandlovely，softlycurvedandfulloflife。
ButLeslieWinterwasalone。Hehadadoredhishouse。Buthisparkwasborderedbythreeofhisowncollieries。Hehadbeenagenerousmaninhisideas。Hehadalmostwelcomedthecolliersinhispark。Hadtheminersnotmadehimrich!So，whenhesawthegangsofunshapelymenloungingbyhisornamentalwaters——notintheprivatepartofthepark，no，hedrewthelinethere——hewouldsay：`theminersareperhapsnotsoornamentalasdeer，buttheyarefarmoreprofitable。’
Butthatwasinthegolden——monetarily——latterhalfofQueenVictoria’sreign。Minerswerethen`goodworkingmen’。
Winterhadmadethisspeech，halfapologetic，tohisguest，thethenPrinceofWales。AndthePrincehadreplied，inhisrathergutturalEnglish：
`Youarequiteright。IftherewerecoalunderSandringham，Iwouldopenamineonthelawns，andthinkitfirst-ratelandscapegardening。
Oh，Iamquitewillingtoexchangeroe-deerforcolliers，attheprice。
Yourmenaregoodmentoo，Ihear。’
Butthen，thePrincehadperhapsanexaggeratedideaofthebeautyofmoney，andtheblessingsofindustrialism。
However，thePrincehadbeenaKing，andtheKinghaddied，andnowtherewasanotherKing，whosechieffunctionseemedtobetoopensoup-kitchens。
AndthegoodworkingmenweresomehowhemmingShipleyin。Newminingvillagescrowdedonthepark，andthesquirefeltsomehowthatthepopulationwasalien。Heusedtofeel，inagood-naturedbutquitegrandway，lordofhisowndomainandofhisowncolliers。Now，byasubtlepervasionofthenewspirit，hehadsomehowbeenpushedout。Itwashewhodidnotbelonganymore。Therewasnomistakingit。Themines，theindustry，hadawillofitsown，andthiswillwasagainstthegentleman-owner。Allthecollierstookpartinthewill，anditwashardtoliveupagainstit。Iteithershovedyououtoftheplace，oroutoflifealtogether。
SquireWinter，asoldier，hadstooditout。Buthenolongercaredtowalkintheparkafterdinner。Healmosthid，indoors。Oncehehadwalked，bare-headed，andinhispatent-leathershoesandpurplesilksocks，withConniedowntothegate，talkingtoherinhiswell-bredratherhaw-hawfashion。Butwhenitcametopassingthelittlegangsofcollierswhostoodandstaredwithouteithersaluteoranythingelse，Conniefelthowthelean，well-bredoldmanwinced，wincedasanelegantantelopestaginacagewincesfromthevulgarstare。Thecollierswerenotpersonallyhostile：notatall。Buttheirspiritwascold，andshovinghimout。And，deepdown，therewasaprofoundgrudge。They`workedforhim’。Andintheirugliness，theyresentedhiselegant，well-groomed，well-bredexistence。
`Who’she!’Itwasthedifferencetheyresented。
Andsomewhere，inhissecretEnglishheart，beingagooddealofasoldier，hebelievedtheywererighttoresentthedifference。Hefelthimselfalittleinthewrong，forhavingalltheadvantages。Neverthelessherepresentedasystem，andhewouldnotbeshovedout。
Exceptbydeath。WhichcameonhimsoonafterConnie’scall，suddenly。
AndherememberedCliffordhandsomelyinhiswill。
TheheirsatoncegaveouttheorderforthedemolishingofShipley。
Itcosttoomuchtokeepup。Noonewouldlivethere。Soitwasbrokenup。Theavenueofyewswascutdown。Theparkwasdenudedofitstimber，anddividedintolots。ItwasnearenoughtoUthwaite。Inthestrange，balddesertofthisstill-one-moreno-man’s-land，newlittlestreetsofsemi-detachedswererunup，verydesirable!TheShipleyHallEstate!
WithinayearofConnie’slastcall，ithadhappened。TherestoodShipleyHallEstate，anarrayofred-bricksemi-detached`villas’innewstreets。
Noonewouldhavedreamedthatthestuccohallhadstoodtheretwelvemonthsbefore。
ButthisisalaterstageofKingEdward’slandscapegardening，thesortthathasanornamentalcoal-mineonthelawn。
OneEnglandblotsoutanother。TheEnglandoftheSquireWintersandtheWragbyHallswasgone，dead。Theblottingoutwasonlynotyetcomplete。
Whatwouldcomeafter？Conniecouldnotimagine。Shecouldonlyseethenewbrickstreetsspreadingintothefields，thenewerectionsrisingatthecollieries，thenewgirlsintheirsilkstockings，thenewcollierladsloungingintothePallyortheWelfare。TheyoungergenerationwereutterlyunconsciousoftheoldEngland。Therewasagapinthecontinuityofconsciousness，almostAmerican：butindustrialreally。Whatnext？
Conniealwaysfelttherewasnonext。Shewantedtohideherheadinthesand：or，atleast，inthebosomofalivingman。
Theworldwassocomplicatedandweirdandgruesome!Thecommonpeopleweresomany，andreallysoterrible。Sosheboughtasshewasgoinghome，andsawthecollierstrailingfromthepits，grey-black，distorted，oneshoulderhigherthantheother，slurringtheirheavyironshodboots。Undergroundgreyfaces，whitesofeyesrolling，neckscringingfromthepitroof，shouldersOutofshape。Men!Men!Alas，insomewayspatientandgoodmen。Inotherways，non-existent。Somethingthatmenshouldhavewasbredandkilledoutofthem。Yettheyweremen。Theybegotchildren。Onemightbearachildtothem。Terrible，terriblethought!Theyweregoodandkindly。
Buttheywereonlyhalf，Onlythegreyhalfofahumanbeing。Asyet，theywere`good’。Buteventhatwasthegoodnessoftheirhalfness。Supposingthedeadinthemeverroseup!Butno，itwastooterribletothinkof。
Conniewasabsolutelyafraidoftheindustrialmasses。Theyseemedsoweirdtoher。Alifewithutterlynobeautyinit，nointuition，always`inthepit’。
Childrenfromsuchmen!OhGod，ohGod!
YetMellorshadcomefromsuchafather。Notquite。Fortyyearshadmadeadifference，anappallingdifferenceinmanhood。Theironandthecoalhadeatendeepintothebodiesandsoulsofthemen。
Incarnateugliness，andyetalive!Whatwouldbecomeofthemall？Perhapswiththepassingofthecoaltheywoulddisappearagain，offthefaceoftheearth。Theyhadappearedoutofnowhereintheirthousands，whenthecoalhadcalledforthem。Perhapstheywereonlyweirdfaunaofthecoal-seams。
Creaturesofanotherreality，theywereelementals，servingtheelementsofcoal，asthemetal-workerswereelementals，servingtheelementofiron。
Mennotmen，butanimasofcoalandironandclay。Faunaoftheelements，carbon，iron，silicon：elementals。Theyhadperhapssomeoftheweird，inhumanbeautyofminerals，thelustreofcoal，theweightandbluenessandresistanceofiron，thetransparencyofglass。Elementalcreatures，weirdanddistorted，ofthemineralworld!Theybelongedtothecoal，theiron，theclay，asfishbelongtotheseaandwormstodeadwood。Theanimaofmineraldisintegration!
Conniewasgladtobehome，toburyherheadinthesand。ShewasgladeventobabbletoClifford。ForherfearoftheminingandironMidlandsaffectedherwithaqueerfeelingthatwentalloverher，likeinfluenza。
`OfcourseIhadtohaveteainMissBentley’sshop，’shesaid。
`Really!Winterwouldhavegivenyoutea。’
`Ohyes，butIdaren’tdisappointMissBentley。’MissBentleywasashallowoldmaidwitharatherlargenoseandromanticdispositionwhoservedteawithacarefulintensityworthyofasacrament。
`Didsheaskafterme？’saidClifford。
`Ofcourse!。MayIaskyourLadyshiphowSirCliffordis!——I
believesheranksyouevenhigherthanNurseCavell!’
`AndIsupposeyousaidIwasblooming。’
`Yes!AndshelookedasraptasifIhadsaidtheheavenshadopenedtoyou。IsaidifsheevercametoTevershallshewastocometoseeyou。’
`Me!Whateverfor!Seeme!’
`Whyyes，Clifford。Youcan’tbesoadoredwithoutmakingsomeslightreturn。SaintGeorgeofCappadociawasnothingtoyou，inhereyes。’
`Anddoyouthinkshe’llcome？’
`Oh，sheblushed!andlookedquitebeautifulforamoment，poorthing!
Whydon’tmenmarrythewomenwhowouldreallyadorethem？’
`Thewomenstartadoringtoolate。Butdidshesayshe’dcome？’
`Oh!’ConnieimitatedthebreathlessMissBentley，`yourLadyship，ifeverIshoulddaretopresume!’