Women in Love.pdf

Women in Love

D.H. Lawrence

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Women in Love

Chapter I

SISTERS

Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the

window-bay of their father’s house in Beldover, working

and talking. Ursula was stitching a piece of brightly-

coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a

board which she held on her knee. They were mostly

silent, talking as their thoughts strayed through their

minds.

’Ursula,’ said Gudrun, ‘don’t you REALLY WANT to

get married?’ Ursula laid her embroidery in her lap and

looked up. Her face was calm and considerate.

’I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘It depends how you

mean.’

Gudrun was slightly taken aback. She watched her sister

for some moments.

’Well,’ she said, ironically, ‘it usually means one thing!

But don’t you think anyhow, you’d be—’ she darkened

slightly—’in a better position than you are in now.’

A shadow came over Ursula’s face.

’I might,’ she said. ‘But I’m not sure.’

Again Gudrun paused, slightly irritated. She wanted to

be quite definite.

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’You don’t think one needs the EXPERIENCE of

having been married?’ she asked.

’Do you think it need BE an experience?’ replied

Ursula.

’Bound to be, in some way or other,’ said Gudrun,

coolly. ‘Possibly undesirable, but bound to be an

experience of some sort.’

’Not really,’ said Ursula. ‘More likely to be the end of

experience.’

Gudrun sat very still, to attend to this.

’Of course,’ she said, ‘there’s THAT to consider.’ This

brought the conversation to a close. Gudrun, almost

angrily, took up her rubber and began to rub out part of

her drawing. Ursula stitched absorbedly.

’You wouldn’t consider a good offer?’ asked Gudrun.

’I think I’ve rejected several,’ said Ursula.

’REALLY!’ Gudrun flushed dark—’But anything really

worth while? Have you REALLY?’

’A thousand a year, and an awfully nice man. I liked

him awfully,’ said Ursula.

’Really! But weren’t you fearfully tempted?’

’In the abstract but not in the concrete,’ said Ursula.

‘When it comes to the point, one isn’t even tempted—oh,

if I were tempted, I’d marry like a shot. I’m only tempted

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NOT to.’ The faces of both sisters suddenly lit up with

amusement.

’Isn’t it an amazing thing,’ cried Gudrun, ‘how strong

the temptation is, not to!’ They both laughed, looking at

each other. In their hearts they were frightened.

There was a long pause, whilst Ursula stitched and

Gudrun went on with her sketch. The sisters were

women, Ursula twenty-six, and Gudrun twenty-five. But

both had the remote, virgin look of modern girls, sisters of

Artemis rather than of Hebe. Gudrun was very beautiful,

passive, soft-skinned, soft-limbed. She wore a dress of

dark-blue silky stuff, with ruches of blue and green linen

lace in the neck and sleeves; and she had emerald-green

stockings. Her look of confidence and diffidence

contrasted with Ursula’s sensitive expectancy. The

provincial people, intimidated by Gudrun’s perfect sang-

froid and exclusive bareness of manner, said of her: ‘She is

a smart woman.’ She had just come back from London,

where she had spent several years, working at an art-

school, as a student, and living a studio life.

’I was hoping now for a man to come along,’ Gudrun

said, suddenly catching her underlip between her teeth,

and making a strange grimace, half sly smiling, half

anguish. Ursula was afraid.

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’So you have come home, expecting him here?’ she

laughed.

’Oh my dear,’ cried Gudrun, strident, ‘I wouldn’t go

out of my way to look for him. But if there did happen to

come along a highly attractive individual of sufficient

means—well—’ she tailed off ironically. Then she looked

searchingly at Ursula, as if to probe her. ‘Don’t you find

yourself getting bored?’ she asked of her sister. ‘Don’t you

find, that things fail to materialise? NOTHING

MATERIALISES! Everything withers in the bud.’

’What withers in the bud?’ asked Ursula.

’Oh, everything—oneself—things in general.’ There

was a pause, whilst each sister vaguely considered her fate.

’It does frighten one,’ said Ursula, and again there was a

pause. ‘But do you hope to get anywhere by just

marrying?’

’It seems to be the inevitable next step,’ said Gudrun.

Ursula pondered this, with a little bitterness. She was a

class mistress herself, in Willey Green Grammar School, as

she had been for some years.

’I know,’ she said, ‘it seems like that when one thinks

in the abstract. But really imagine it: imagine any man one

knows, imagine him coming home to one every evening,

and saying ‘Hello,’ and giving one a kiss—’

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