ItwasMrsBolton’stalkthatreallyputanewfightintoClifford。
　　Hisincome，asshepointedouttohim，wassecure，fromhisfather’strust，eventhoughitwasnotlarge。Thepitsdidnotreallyconcernhim。Itwastheotherworldhewantedtocapture，theworldofliteratureandfame；
　　thepopularworld，nottheworkingworld。
　　Nowherealizedthedistinctionbetweenpopularsuccessandworkingsuccess：thepopulaceofpleasureandthepopulaceofwork。He，asaprivateindividual，hadbeencateringwithhisstoriesforthepopulaceofpleasure。
　　Andhehadcaughton。Butbeneaththepopulaceofpleasurelaythepopulaceofwork，grim，grimy，andratherterrible。Theytoohadtohavetheirproviders。
　　Anditwasamuchgrimmerbusiness，providingforthepopulaceofwork，thanforthepopulaceofpleasure。Whilehewasdoinghisstories，and`gettingon’intheworld，Tevershallwasgoingtothewall。
　　Herealizednowthatthebitch-goddessofSuccesshadtwomainappetites：
　　oneforflattery，adulation，strokingandticklingsuchaswritersandartistsgaveher；buttheotheragrimmerappetiteformeatandbones。
　　Andthemeatandbonesforthebitch-goddesswereprovidedbythemenwhomademoneyinindustry。
　　Yes，thereweretwogreatgroupsofdogswranglingforthebitch-goddess：
　　thegroupoftheflatterers，thosewhoofferedheramusement，stories，films，plays：andtheother，muchlessshowy，muchmoresavagebreed，thosewhogavehermeat，therealsubstanceofmoney。Thewell-groomedshowydogsofamusementwrangledandsnarledamongthemselvesforthefavoursofthebitch-goddess。Butitwasnothingtothesilentfight-to-the-deaththatwentonamongtheindispensables，thebone-bringers。
　　ButunderMrsBolton’sinfluence，Cliffordwastemptedtoenterthisotherfight，tocapturethebitch-goddessbybrutemeansofindustrialproduction。Somehow，hegothispeckerup。
　　Inoneway，MrsBoltonmadeamanofhim，asConnieneverdid。Conniekepthimapart，andmadehimsensitiveandconsciousofhimselfandhisownstates。MrsBoltonmadehintawareonlyofoutsidethings。Inwardlyhebegantogosoftaspulp。Butoutwardlyhebegantobeeffective。
　　Heevenrousedhimselftogototheminesoncemore：andwhenhewasthere，hewentdowninatub，andinatubhewashauledoutintotheworkings。
　　Thingshehadlearnedbeforethewar，andseemedutterlytohaveforgotten，nowcamebacktohim。Hesatthere，crippled，inatub，withtheundergroundmanagershowinghimtheseamwithapowerfultorch。Andhesaidlittle。
　　Buthismindbegantowork。
　　Hebegantoreadagainhistechnicalworksonthecoal-miningindustry，hestudiedthegovernmentreports，andhereadwithcarethelatestthingsonminingandthechemistryofcoalandofshalewhichwerewritteninGerman。Ofcoursethemostvaluablediscoverieswerekeptsecretasfaraspossible。Butonceyoustartedasortofresearchinthefieldofcoal-mining，astudyofmethodsandmeans，astudyofby-productsandthechemicalpossibilitiesofcoal，itwasastoundingtheingenuityandthealmostuncannyclevernessofthemoderntechnicalmind，asifreallythedevilhimselfhadlentfiend’switstothetechnicalscientistsofindustry。Itwasfarmoreinterestingthanart，thanliterature，pooremotionalhalf-wittedstuff，wasthistechnicalscienceofindustry。Inthisfield，menwerelikegods，ordemons，inspiredtodiscoveries，andfightingtocarrythemout。Inthisactivity，menwerebeyondattymentalagecalculable。ButCliffordknewthatwhenitdidcometotheemotionalandhumanlife，theseself-mademenwereofamentalageofaboutthirteen，feebleboys。Thediscrepancywasenormousandappalling。
　　Butletthatbe。Letmanslidedowntogeneralidiocyintheemotionaland`human’mind，Clifforddidnotcare。Letallthatgohang。Hewasinterestedinthetechnicalitiesofmoderncoal-mining，andinpullingTevershalloutofthehole。
　　Hewentdowntothepitdayafterday，hestudied，heputthegeneralmanager，andtheoverheadmanager，andtheundergroundmanager，andtheengineersthroughamilltheyhadneverdreamedof。Power!Hefeltanewsenseofpowerflowingthroughhim：poweroverallthesemen，overthehundredsandhundredsofcolliers。Hewasfindingout：andhewasgettingthingsintohisgrip。
　　Andheseemedverilytobere-born。Nowlifecameintohim!Hehadbeengraduallydying，withConnie，intheisolatedprivatelifeoftheartistandtheconsciousbeing。Nowletallthatgo。Letitsleep。
　　Hesimplyfeltliferushintohimoutofthecoal，outofthepit。Theverystaleairofthecollierywasbetterthanoxygentohim。Itgavehimasenseofpower，power。Hewasdoingsomething：andhewasgoingtodosomething。Hewasgoingtowin，towin：notashehadwonwithhisstories，merepublicity，amidawholesappingofenergyandmalice。Butaman’svictory。
　　Atfirsthethoughtthesolutionlayinelectricity：convertthecoalintoelectricpower。Thenanewideacame。TheGermansinventedanewlocomotiveenginewithaselffeeder，thatdidnotneedafireman。Anditwastobefedwithanewfuel，thatburntinsmallquantitiesatagreatheat，underpeculiarconditions。
　　TheideaofanewconcentratedfuelthatburntwithahardslownessatafierceheatwaswhatfirstattractedClifford。Theremustbesomesortofexternalstimulusoftheburningofsuchfuel，notmerelyairsupply。
　　Hebegantoexperiment，andgotacleveryoungfellow，whohadprovedbrilliantinchemistry，tohelphim。
　　Andhefelttriumphant。Hehadatlastgotoutofhimself。Hehadfulfilledhislife-longsecretyearningtogetoutofhimself。Arthadnotdoneitforhim。Arthadonlymadeitworse。Butnow，nowhehaddoneit。
　　HewasnotawarehowmuchMrsBoltonwasbehindhim。Hedidnotknowhowmuchhedependedonher。Butforallthat，itwasevidentthatwhenhewaswithherhisvoicedroppedtoaneasyrhythmofintimacy，almostatriflevulgar。
　　WithConnie，hewasalittlestiff。Hefeltheowedhereverything，andheshowedhertheutmostrespectandconsideration，solongasshegavehimmereoutwardrespect。Butitwasobvioushehadasecretdreadofher。ThenewAchillesinhinthadaheel，andinthisheelthewoman，thewomanlikeConnie，hiswife，couldlamehimfatally。Hewentinacertainhalf-subservientdreadofher，andwasextremelynicetoher。Buthisvoicewasalittletensewhenhespoketoher，andhebegantobesilentwhenevershewaspresent。
　　OnlywhenhewasalonewithMrsBoltondidhereallyfeelalordandamaster，andhisvoiceranonwithheralmostaseasilyandgarrulouslyasherowncouldrun。Andhelethershavehimorspongeallhisbodyasifhewereachild，reallyasifhewereachild。
　　Chapter10
　　Conniewasagooddealalonenow，fewerpeoplecametoWragby。Cliffordnolongerwantedthem。Hehadturnedagainsteventhecronies。Hewasqueer。
　　Hepreferredtheradio，whichhehadinstalledatsomeexpense，withagooddealofsuccessatlast。HecouldsometimesgetMadridorFrankfurt，eventhereintheuneasyMidlands。
　　Andhewouldsitaloneforhourslisteningtotheloudspeakerbellowingforth。ItamazedandstunnedConnie。Buttherehewouldsit，withablankentrancedexpressiononhisface，likeapersonlosinghismind，andlisten，orseemtolisten，totheunspeakablething。
　　Washereallylistening？Orwasitasortofsoporifichetook，whilstsomethingelseworkedonunderneathinhim？Conniedidnowknow。Shefleduptoherroom，oroutofdoorstothewood。Akindofterrorfilledhersometimes，aterroroftheincipientinsanityofthewholecivilizedspecies。
　　ButnowthatCliffordwasdriftingofftothisotherweirdnessofindustrialactivity，becomingalmostacreature，withahard，efficientshellofanexteriorandapulpyinterior，oneoftheamazingcrabsandlobstersofthemodern，industrialandfinancialworld，invertebratesofthecrustaceanorder，withshellsofsteel，likemachines，andinnerbodiesofsoftpulp，Connieherselfwasreallycompletelystranded。
　　Shewasnotevenfree，forCliffordmusthaveherthere。Heseemedtohaveanervousterrorthatsheshouldleavehim。Thecuriouspulpypartofhim，theemotionalandhumanly-individualpart，dependedonherwithterror，likeachild，almostlikeanidiot。Shemustbethere，thereatWragby，aLadyChatterley，hiswife。Otherwisehewouldbelostlikeanidiotonamoor。
　　ThisamazingdependenceConnierealizedwithasortofhorror。Sheheardhimwithhispitmanagers，withthemembersofhisBoard，withyoungscientists，andshewasamazedathisshrewdinsightintothings，hispower，hisuncannymaterialpoweroverwhatiscalledpracticalmen。Hehadbecomeapracticalmanhimselfandanamazinglyastuteandpowerfulone，amaster。ConnieattributedittoMrsBolton’sinfluenceuponhim，justatthecrisisinhislife。
　　Butthisastuteandpracticalmanwasalmostanidiotwhenleftalonetohisownemotionallife。HeworshippedConnie。Shewashiswife，ahigherbeing，andheworshippedherwithaqueer，cravenidolatry，likeasavage，aworshipbasedonenormousfear，andevenhateofthepoweroftheidol，thedreadidol。AllhewantedwasforConnietoswear，toswearnottoleavehim，nottogivehimaway。
　　`Clifford，’shesaidtohim——butthiswasaftershehadthekeytothehut——`Wouldyoureallylikemetohaveachildoneday？’
　　Helookedatherwithafurtiveapprehensioninhisratherprominentpaleeyes。
　　`Ishouldn’tmind，ifitmadenodifferencebetweenus，’hesaid。
　　`Nodifferencetowhat？’sheasked。
　　`Toyouandme；toourloveforoneanother。Ifit’sgoingtoaffectthat，thenI’mallagainstit。Why，Imightevenonedayhaveachildofmyown!’
　　Shelookedathiminamazement。
　　`Imean，itmightcomebacktomeoneofthesedays。’
　　Shestillstaredinamazement，andhewasuncomfortable。
　　`SoyouwouldnotlikeitifIhadachild？’shesaid。
　　`Itellyou，’herepliedquickly，likeacornereddog，`Iamquitewilling，provideditdoesn’ttouchyourloveforme。Ifitwouldtouchthat，Iamdeadagainstit。’
　　Conniecouldonlybesilentincoldfearandcontempt。Suchtalkwasreallythegabblingofanidiot。Henolongerknewwhathewastalkingabout。
　　`Oh，itwouldn’tmakeanydifferencetomyfeelingforyou，’shesaid，withacertainsarcasm。
　　`There!’hesaid。`Thatisthepoint!InthatcaseIdon’tmindintheleast。Imeanitwouldbeawfullynicetohaveachildrunningaboutthehouse，andfeelonewasbuildingupafutureforit。Ishouldhavesomethingtostriveforthen，andIshouldknowitwasyourchild，shouldn’tI，dear？
　　Anditwouldseemjustthesameasmyown。Becauseitisyouwhocountinthesematters。Youknowthat，don’tyou，dear？Idon’tenter，Iamacypher。YouarethegreatI-am!asfaraslifegoes。Youknowthat，don’tyou？Imean，asfarasIamconcerned。Imean，butforyouIamabsolutelynothing。Iliveforyoursakeandyourfuture。Iamnothingtomyself’
　　Conniehearditallwithdeepeningdismayandrepulsion。Itwasoneoftheghastlyhalf-truthsthatpoisonhumanexistence。Whatmaninhissenseswouldsaysuchthingstoawoman!Butmenaren’tintheirsenses。
　　Whatmanwithasparkofhonourwouldputthisghastlyburdenoflife-responsibilityuponawoman，andleaveherthere，inthevoid？
　　Moreover，inhalfanhour’stime，ConnieheardCliffordtalkingtoMrsBolton，inahot，impulsivevoice，revealinghimselfinasortofpassionlesspassiontothewoman，asifshewerehalfmistress，halffoster-mothertohim。AndMrsBoltonwascarefullydressinghimineveningclothes，fortherewereimportantbusinessguestsinthehouse。
　　Conniereallysometimesfeltshewoulddieatthistime。Shefeltshewasbeingcrushedtodeathbyweirdlies，andbytheamazingcrueltyofidiocy。Clifford’sstrangebusinessefficiencyinawayover-awedher，andhisdeclarationofprivateworshipputherintoapanic。Therewasnothingbetweenthem。Shenevereventouchedhimnowadays，andhenevertouchedher。Henevereventookherhandandhelditkindly。No，andbecausetheyweresoutterlyoutoftouch，hetorturedherwithhisdeclarationofidolatry。Itwasthecrueltyofutterimpotence。Andshefeltherreasonwouldgiveway，orshewoulddie。
　　Shefledasmuchaspossibletothewood。Oneafternoon，asshesatbrooding，watchingthewaterbubblingcoldlyinJohn’sWell，thekeeperhadstrodeuptoher。
　　`Igotyouakeymade，myLady!’hesaid，saluting，andheofferedherthekey。
　　`Thankyousomuch!’shesaid，startled。
　　`Thehut’snotverytidy，ifyoudon’tmind，’hesaid。`IcleareditwhatIcould。’
　　`ButIdidn’twantyoutotrouble!’shesaid。
　　`Oh，itwasn’tanytrouble。Iamsettingthehensinaboutaweek。Buttheywon’tbescaredofyou。Is’llhavetoseetothemmorningandnight，butIshan’tbotheryouanymorethanIcanhelp。’
　　`Butyouwouldn’tbotherme，’shepleaded。`I’drathernotgotothehutatall，ifIamgoingtobeintheway。’
　　Helookedatherwithhiskeenblueeyes。Heseemedkindly，butdistant。
　　Butatleasthewassane，andwholesome，ifevenhelookedthinandill。
　　Acoughtroubledhim。
　　`Youhaveacough，’shesaid。
　　`Nothing——acold!Thelastpneumonialeftmewithacough，butit’snothing。’
　　Hekeptdistantfromher，andwouldnotcomeanynearer。
　　Shewentfairlyoftentothehut，inthemorningorintheafternoon，buthewasneverthere。Nodoubtheavoidedheronpurpose。Hewantedtokeephisownprivacy。
　　Hehadmadethehuttidy，putthelittletableandchairnearthefireplace，leftalittlepileofkindlingandsmalllogs，andputthetoolsandtrapsawayasfaraspossible，effacinghimself。Outside，bytheclearing，hehadbuiltalowlittleroofofboughsandstraw，ashelterforthebirds，andunderitstoodthelivecoops。And，onedaywhenshecame，shefoundtwobrownhenssittingalertandfierceinthecoops，sittingonpheasants’
　　eggs，andfluffedoutsoproudanddeepinalltheheatoftheponderingfemaleblood。ThisalmostbrokeConnie’sheart。She，herselfwassoforlornandunused，notafemaleatall，justamerethingofterrors。
　　Thenallthelivecoopswereoccupiedbyhens，threebrownandagreyandablack。Allalike，theyclusteredthemselvesdownontheeggsinthesoftnestlingponderosityofthefemaleurge，thefemalenature，fluffingouttheirfeathers。AndwithbrillianteyestheywatchedConnie，asshecrouchedbeforethem，andtheygaveshortsharpclucksofangerandalarm，butchieflyoffemaleangeratbeingapproached。
　　Conniefoundcorninthecorn-bininthehut。Sheofferedittothehensinherhand。Theywouldnoteatit。Onlyonehenpeckedatherhandwithafiercelittlejab，soConniewasfrightened。Butshewaspiningtogivethemsomething，thebroodingmotherswhoneitherfedthemselvesnordrank。Shebroughtwaterinalittletin，andwasdelightedwhenoneofthehensdrank。
　　Nowshecameeverydaytothehens，theyweretheonlythingsintheworldthatwarmedherheart。Clifford’sprotestationsmadehergocoldfromheadtofoot。MrsBolton’svoicemadehergocold，andthesoundofthebusinessmenwhocame。AnoccasionalletterfromMichaelisaffectedherwiththesamesenseofchill。Shefeltshewouldsurelydieifitlastedmuchlonger。
　　Yetitwasspring，andthebluebellswerecominginthewood，andtheleaf-budsonthehazelswereopeninglikethespatterofgreenrain。Howterribleitwasthatitshouldbespring，andeverythingcold-hearted，cold-hearted。Onlythehens，fluffedsowonderfullyontheeggs，werewarmwiththeirhot，broodingfemalebodies!Conniefeltherselflivingonthebrinkoffaintingallthetime。
　　Then，oneday，alovelysunnydaywithgreattuftsofprimrosesunderthehazels，andmanyvioletsdottingthepaths，shecameintheafternoontothecoopsandtherewasonetiny，tinyperkychickentinilyprancingroundinfrontofacoop，andthemotherhencluckinginterror。Theslimlittlechickwasgreyishbrownwithdarkmarkings，anditwasthemostalivelittlesparkofacreatureinsevenkingdomsatthatmoment。Conniecrouchedtowatchinasortofecstasy。Life，life!pure，sparky，fearlessnewlife!Newlife!Sotinyandsoutterlywithoutfear!Evenwhenitscamperedalittle，scramblingintothecoopagain，anddisappearedunderthehen’sfeathersinanswertothemotherhen’swildalarm-cries，itwasnotreallyfrightened，ittookitasagame，thegameofliving。Forinamomentatinysharpheadwaspokingthroughthegold-brownfeathersofthehen，andeyeingtheCosmos。
　　Conniewasfascinated。Andatthesametime，neverhadshefeltsoacutelytheagonyofherownfemaleforlornness。Itwasbecomingunbearable。
　　Shehadonlyonedesirenow，togototheclearinginthewood。Therestwasakindofpainfuldream。ButsometimesshewaskeptalldayatWragby，byherdutiesashostess。Andthenshefeltasifshetooweregoingblank，justblankandinsane。
　　Oneevening，guestsornoguests，sheescapedaftertea。Itwaslate，andshefledacrosstheparklikeonewhofearstobecalledback。Thesunwassettingrosyassheenteredthewood，butshepressedonamongtheflowers。Thelightwouldlastlongoverhead。
　　Shearrivedattheclearingflushedandsemi-conscious。Thekeeperwasthere，inhisshirt-sleeves，justclosingupthecoopsforthenight，sothelittleoccupantswouldbesafe。Butstillonelittletriowaspatteringaboutontinyfeet，alertdrabmites，underthestrawshelter，refusingtobecalledinbytheanxiousmother。