TheChatterleys，twobrothersandasister，hadlivedcuriouslyisolated，shutinwithoneanotheratWragby，inspiteofalltheirconnexions。A
senseofisolationintensifiedthefamilytie，asenseoftheweaknessoftheirposition，asenseofdefencelessness，inspiteof，orbecauseof，thetitleandtheland。TheywerecutofffromthoseindustrialMidlandsinwhichtheypassedtheirlives。Andtheywerecutofffromtheirownclassbythebrooding，obstinate，shut-upnatureofSirGeoffrey，theirfather，whomtheyridiculed，butwhomtheyweresosensitiveabout。
Thethreehadsaidtheywouldalllivetogetheralways。ButnowHerbertwasdead，andSirGeoffreywantedCliffordtomarry。SirGeoffreybarelymentionedit：hespokeverylittle。Buthissilent，broodinginsistencethatitshouldbesowashardforCliffordtobearupagainst。
ButEmmasaidNo!ShewastenyearsolderthanClifford，andshefelthismarryingwouldbeadesertionandabetrayalofwhattheyoungonesofthefamilyhadstoodfor。
CliffordmarriedConnie，nevertheless，andhadhismonth’shoneymoonwithher。Itwastheterribleyear1917，andtheywereintimateastwopeoplewhostandtogetheronasinkingship。Hehadbeenvirginwhenhemarried：andthesexpartdidnotmeanmuchtohim。Theyweresoclose，heandshe，apartfromthat。AndConnieexultedalittleinthisintimacywhichwasbeyondsex，andbeyondaman’s`satisfaction`。Cliffordanyhowwasnotjustkeenonhis`satisfaction’，assomanymenseemedtobe。No，theintimacywasdeeper，morepersonalthanthat。Andsexwasmerelyanaccident，oranadjunct，oneofthecuriousobsolete，organicprocesseswhichpersistedinitsownclumsiness，butwasnotreallynecessary。ThoughConniedidwantchildren：ifonlytofortifyheragainsthersister-in-lawEmma。
Butearlyin1918Cliffordwasshippedhomesmashed，andtherewasnochild。AndSirGeoffreydiedofchagrin。
Chapter2
ConnieandCliffordcamehometoWragbyintheautumnof1920。MissChatterley，stilldisgustedatherbrother’sdefection，haddepartedandwaslivinginalittleflatinLondon。
Wragbywasalonglowoldhouseinbrownstone，begunaboutthemiddleoftheeighteenthcentury，andaddedonto，tillitwasawarrenofaplacewithoutmuchdistinction。Itstoodonaneminenceinaratherlineoldparkofoaktrees，butalas，onecouldseeintheneardistancethechimneyofTevershallpit，withitscloudsofsteamandsmoke，andonthedamp，hazydistanceofthehilltherawstraggleofTevershallvillage，avillagewhichbeganalmostattheparkgates，andtrailedinutterhopelessuglinessforalongandgruesomemile：houses，rowsofwretched，small，begrimed，brickhouses，withblackslateroofsforlids，sharpanglesandwilful，blankdreariness。
ConniewasaccustomedtoKensingtonortheScotchhillsortheSussexdowns：thatwasherEngland。Withthestoicismoftheyoungshetookintheutter，soullessuglinessofthecoal-and-ironMidlandsataglance，andleftitatwhatitwas：unbelievableandnottobethoughtabout。FromtheratherdismalroomsatWragbysheheardtherattle-rattleofthescreensatthepit，thepuffofthewinding-engine，theclink-clinkofshuntingtrucks，andthehoarselittlewhistleofthecollierylocomotives。Tevershallpit-bankwasburning，hadbeenburningforyears，anditwouldcostthousandstoputitout。Soithadtoburn。Andwhenthewindwasthatway，whichwasoften，thehousewasfullofthestenchofthissulphurouscombustionoftheearth’sexcrement。Butevenonwindlessdaystheairalwayssmeltofsomethingunder-earth：sulphur，iron，coal，oracid。AndevenontheChristmasrosesthesmutssettledpersistently，incredible，likeblackmannafromtheskiesofdoom。
Well，thereitwas：fatedliketherestofthings!Itwasratherawful，butwhykick？Youcouldn’tkickitaway。Itjustwenton。Life，likealltherest!Onthelowdarkceilingofcloudatnightredblotchesburnedandquavered，dapplingandswellingandcontracting，likeburnsthatgivepain。Itwasthefurnaces。AtfirsttheyfascinatedConniewithasortofhorror；shefeltshewaslivingunderground。Thenshegotusedtothem。
Andinthemorningitrained。
CliffordprofessedtolikeWragbybetterthanLondon。Thiscountryhadagrimwillofitsown，andthepeoplehadguts。Conniewonderedwhatelsetheyhad：certainlyneithereyesnorminds。Thepeoplewereashaggard，shapeless，anddrearyasthecountryside，andasunfriendly。Onlytherewassomethingintheirdeep-mouthedslurringofthedialect，andthethresh-threshoftheirhob-nailedpit-bootsastheytrailedhomeingangsontheasphaltfromwork，thatwasterribleandabitmysterious。
Therehadbeennowelcomehomefortheyoungsquire，nofestivities，nodeputation，notevenasingleflower。Onlyadankrideinamotor-carupadark，dampdrive，burrowingthroughgloomytrees，outtotheslopeoftheparkwheregreydampsheepwerefeeding，totheknollwherethehousespreaditsdarkbrownfacade，andthehousekeeperandherhusbandwerehovering，likeunsuretenantsonthefaceoftheearth，readytostammerawelcome。
TherewasnocommunicationbetweenWragbyHallandTevershallvillage，none。Nocapsweretouched，nocurtseysbobbed。Thecolliersmerelystared；
thetradesmenliftedtheircapstoConnieastoanacquaintance，andnoddedawkwardlytoClifford；thatwasall。Gulfimpassable，andaquietsortofresentmentoneitherside。AtfirstConniesufferedfromthesteadydrizzleofresentmentthatcamefromthevillage。Thenshehardenedherselftoit，anditbecameasortoftonic，somethingtoliveupto。ItwasnotthatsheandCliffordwereunpopular，theymerelybelongedtoanotherspeciesaltogetherfromthecolliers。Gulfimpassable，breachindescribable，suchasisperhapsnonexistentsouthoftheTrent。ButintheMidlandsandtheindustrialNorthgulfimpassable，acrosswhichnocommunicationcouldtakeplace。Yousticktoyourside，I’llsticktomine!Astrangedenialofthecommonpulseofhumanity。
YetthevillagesympathizedwithCliffordandConnieintheabstract。
Inthefleshitwas——Youleavemealone!——oneitherside。
Therectorwasanicemanofaboutsixty，fullofhisduty，andreduced，personally，almosttoanonentitybythesilent——Youleavemealone!——ofthevillage。Theminers’wiveswerenearlyallMethodists。Theminerswerenothing。Butevensomuchofficialuniformastheclergymanworewasenoughtoobscureentirelythefactthathewasamanlikeanyotherman。No，hewasMesterAshby，asortofautomaticpreachingandprayingconcern。
Thisstubborn，instinctive——Wethinkourselvesasgoodasyou，ifyouareLadyChatterley!——puzzledandbaffledConnieatfirstextremely。
Thecurious，suspicious，falseamiabilitywithwhichtheminers’wivesmetherovertures；thecuriouslyoffensivetingeof——Ohdearme!Iamsomebodynow，withLadyChatterleytalkingtome!Butsheneedn’tthinkI’mnotasgoodasherforallthat!——whichshealwaysheardtwanginginthewomen’shalf-fawningvoices，wasimpossible。Therewasnogettingpastit。Itwashopelesslyandoffensivelynonconformist。
Cliffordleftthemalone，andshelearnttodothesame：shejustwentbywithoutlookingatthem，andtheystaredasifshewereawalkingwaxfigure。Whenhehadtodealwiththem，Cliffordwasratherhaughtyandcontemptuous；onecouldnolongeraffordtobefriendly。Infacthewasaltogetherrathersuperciliousandcontemptuousofanyonenotinhisownclass。Hestoodhisground，withoutanyattemptatconciliation。Andhewasneitherlikednordislikedbythepeople：hewasjustpartofthings，likethepit-bankandWragbyitself。
ButCliffordwasreallyextremelyshyandself-consciousnowhewaslamed。Hehatedseeinganyoneexceptjustthepersonalservants。Forhehadtositinawheeledchairorasortofbath-chair。Neverthelesshewasjustascarefullydressedasever，byhisexpensivetailors，andheworethecarefulBondStreetnecktiesjustasbefore，andfromthetophelookedjustassmartandimpressiveasever。Hehadneverbeenoneofthemodernladylikeyoungmen：ratherbucoliceven，withhisruddyfaceandbroadshoulders。Buthisveryquiet，hesitatingvoice，andhiseyes，atthesametimeboldandfrightened，assuredanduncertain，revealedhisnature。Hismannerwasoftenoffensivelysupercilious，andthenagainmodestandself-effacing，almosttremulous。
Connieandhewereattachedtooneanother，inthealoofmodernway。
Hewasmuchtoohurtinhimself，thegreatshockofhismaiming，tobeeasyandflippant。Hewasahurtthing。AndassuchConniestucktohimpassionately。
Butshecouldnothelpfeelinghowlittleconnexionhereallyhadwithpeople。Theminerswere，inasense，hisownmen；buthesawthemasobjectsratherthanmen，partsofthepitratherthanpartsoflife，cruderawphenomenaratherthanhumanbeingsalongwithhim。Hewasinsomewayafraidofthem，hecouldnotbeartohavethemlookathimnowhewaslame。Andtheirqueer，crudelifeseemedasunnaturalasthatofhedgehogs。
Hewasremotelyinterested；butlikeamanlookingdownamicroscope，orupatelescope。Hewasnotintouch。Hewasnotinactualtouchwithanybody，save，traditionally，withWragby，and，throughtheclosebondoffamilydefence，withEmma。Beyondthisnothingreallytouchedhim。Conniefeltthatsheherselfdidn’treally，notreallytouchhim；perhapstherewasnothingtogetatultimately；justanegationofhumancontact。
Yethewasabsolutelydependentonher，heneededhereverymoment。
Bigandstrongashewas，hewashelpless。Hecouldwheelhimselfaboutinawheeledchair，andhehadasortofbath-chairwithamotorattachment，inwhichhecouldpuffslowlyroundthepark。Butalonehewaslikealostthing。HeneededConnietobethere，toassurehimheexistedatall。
Stillhewasambitious。Hehadtakentowritingstories；curious，verypersonalstoriesaboutpeoplehehadknown。Clever，ratherspiteful，andyet，insomemysteriousway，meaningless。Theobservationwasextraordinaryandpeculiar。Buttherewasnotouch，noactualcontact。Itwasasifthewholethingtookplaceinavacuum。Andsincethefieldoflifeislargelyanartificially-lightedstagetoday，thestorieswerecuriouslytruetomodernlife，tothemodernpsychology，thatis。
Cliffordwasalmostmorbidlysensitiveaboutthesestories。Hewantedeveryonetothinkthemgood，ofthebest，neplusultra。Theyappearedinthemostmodernmagazines，andwerepraisedandblamedasusual。ButtoCliffordtheblamewastorture，likeknivesgoadinghim。Itwasasifthewholeofhisbeingwereinhisstories。
Conniehelpedhimasmuchasshecould。Atfirstshewasthrilled。Hetalkedeverythingoverwithhermonotonously，insistently，persistently，andshehadtorespondwithallhermight。Itwasasifherwholesoulandbodyandsexhadtorouseupandpassintothemestoriesofhis。Thisthrilledherandabsorbedher。
Ofphysicallifetheylivedverylittle。Shehadtosuperintendthehouse。ButthehousekeeperhadservedSirGeoffreyformanyyears，aridthedried-up，elderly，superlativelycorrectfemaleyoucouldhardlycallheraparlour-maid，orevenawoman……whowaitedattable，hadbeeninthehouseforfortyyears。Eventheveryhousemaidswerenolongeryoung。
Itwasawful!Whatcouldyoudowithsuchaplace，butleaveitalone!
Alltheseendlessroomsthatnobodyused，alltheMidlandsroutine，themechanicalcleanlinessandthemechanicalorder!Cliffordhadinsistedonanewcook，anexperiencedwomanwhohadservedhiminhisroomsinLondon。Fortheresttheplaceseemedrunbymechanicalanarchy。Everythingwentoninprettygoodorder，strictcleanliness，andstrictpunctuality；
evenprettystricthonesty。Andyet，toConnie，itwasamethodicalanarchy。
Nowarmthoffeelinguniteditorganically。Thehouseseemedasdrearyasadisusedstreet。
Whatcouldshedobutleaveitalone？Sosheleftitalone。MissChatterleycamesometimes，withheraristocraticthinface，andtriumphed，findingnothingaltered。ShewouldneverforgiveConnieforoustingherfromherunioninconsciousnesswithherbrother。Itwasshe，Emma，whoshouldbebringingforththestories，thesebooks，withhim；theChatterleystories，somethingnewintheworld，thatthey，theChatterleys，hadputthere。Therewasnootherstandard。Therewasnoorganicconnexionwiththethoughtandexpressionthathadgonebefore。Onlysomethingnewintheworld：theChatterleybooks，entirelypersonal。
Connie’sfather，wherehepaidaflyingvisittoWragby，andinprivatetohisdaughter：AsforClifford’swriting，it’ssmart，butthere’snothinginit。Itwon’tlast!ConnielookedattheburlyScottishknightwhohaddonehimselfwellallhislife，andhereyes，herbig，still-wonderingblueeyesbecamevague。Nothinginit!Whatdidhemeanbynothinginit？
Ifthecriticspraisedit，andClifford’snamewasalmostfamous，anditevenbroughtinmoney……whatdidherfathermeanbysayingtherewasnothinginClifford’swriting？Whatelsecouldtherebe？
ForConniehadadoptedthestandardoftheyoung：whattherewasinthemomentwaseverything。Andmomentsfollowedoneanotherwithoutnecessarilybelongingtooneanother。
ItwasinhersecondwinteratWragbyherfathersaidtoher：`Ihope，Connie，youwon’tletcircumstancesforceyouintobeingademi-vierge。’
`Ademi-vierge!’repliedConnievaguely。`Why？Whynot？’
`Unlessyoulikeit，ofcourse!’saidherfatherhastily。ToCliffordhesaidthesame，whenthetwomenwerealone：`I’mafraiditdoesn’tquitesuitConnietobeademi-vierge。’
`Ahalf-virgin!’repliedClifford，translatingthephrasetobesureofit。
Hethoughtforamoment，thenflushedveryred。Hewasangryandoffended。
`Inwhatwaydoesn’titsuither？’heaskedstiffly。
`She’sgettingthin……angular。It’snotherstyle。She’snotthepilchardsortoflittleslipofagirl，she’sabonnyScotchtrout。’
`Withoutthespots，ofcourse!’saidClifford。
HewantedtosaysomethinglatertoConnieaboutthedemi-viergebusiness……thehalf-virginstateofheraffairs。Buthecouldnotbringhimselftodoit。Hewasatoncetoointimatewithherandnotintimateenough。Hewassoverymuchatonewithher，inhismindandhers，butbodilytheywerenon-existenttooneanother，andneithercouldbeartodraginthecorpusdelicti。Theyweresointimate，andutterlyoutoftouch。
Connieguessed，however，thatherfatherhadsaidsomething，andthatsomethingwasinClifford’smind。Sheknewthathedidn’tmindwhethersheweredemi-viergeordemi-monde，solongashedidn’tabsolutelyknow，andwasn’tmadetosee。Whattheeyedoesn’tseeandtheminddoesn’tknow，doesn’texist。
ConnieandCliffordhadnowbeennearlytwoyearsatWragby，livingtheirvaguelifeofabsorptioninCliffordandhiswork。Theirinterestshadneverceasedtoflowtogetheroverhiswork。Theytalkedandwrestledinthethroesofcomposition，andfeltasifsomethingwerehappening，reallyhappening，reallyinthevoid。
Andthusfaritwasalife：inthevoid。Fortherestitwasnon-existence。