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第48部分(第1页)

the town; with a childish; candid; uncanny face; as if it all

were strange to her。

The children; Ursula and Gudrun and Theresa went by the

garden gate on their way to school。 The grandmother would have

them call in each time they passed; she would have them e to

the Marsh for dinner。 She wanted children about her。

Of her sons; she was almost afraid。 She could see the sombre

passion and desire and dissatisfaction in them; and she wanted

not to see it any more。 Even Fred; with his blue eyes and his

heavy jaw; troubled her。 There was no peace。 He wanted

something; he wanted love; passion; and he could not find them。

But why must he trouble her? Why must he e to her with his

seething and suffering and dissatisfactions? She was too

old。

Tom was more restrained; reserved。 He kept his body very

still。 But he troubled her even more。 She could not but see the

black depths of disintegration in his eyes; the sudden glance

upon her; as if she could save him; as if he would reveal

himself。

And how could age save youth? Youth must go to youth。 Always

the storm! Could she not lie in peace; these years; in the

quiet; apart from life? No; always the swell must heave upon her

and break against the barriers。 Always she must be embroiled in

the seethe and rage and passion; endless; endless; going on for

ever。 And she wanted to draw away。 She wanted at last her own

innocence and peace。 She did not want her sons to force upon her

any more the old brutal story of desire and offerings and deep;

deep…hidden rage of unsatisfied men against women。 She wanted to

be beyond it all; to know the peace and innocence of age。

She had never been a woman to work much。 So that now she

would stand often at the garden…gate; watching the scant world

go by。 And the sight of children pleased her; made her happy。

She had usually an apple or a few sweets in her pocket。 She

liked children to smile at her。

She never went to her husbands grave。 She spoke of him

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