MrsBoltonwasforamomentbreathless，flabbergasted。Thenshedidn’tbelieveit：shesawinitaruse。Yetdoctorscoulddosuchthingsnowadays。
　　Theymightsortofgraftseed。
　　`Well，myLady，Ionlyhopeandprayyoumay。Itwouldbelovelyforyou：andforeverybody。Myword，achildinWragby，whatadifferenceitwouldmake!’
　　`Wouldn’tit!’saidConnie。
　　AndshechosethreeR。A。picturesofsixtyyearsago，tosendtotheDuchessofShortlandsforthatlady’snextcharitablebazaar。Shewascalled`thebazaarduchess’，andshealwaysaskedallthecountytosendthingsforhertosell。ShewouldbedelightedwiththreeframedR。A。s。Shemightevencall，onthestrengthofthem。HowfuriousCliffordwaswhenshecalled!
　　Butohmydear!MrsBoltonwasthinkingtoherself。IsitOliverMellors’
　　childyou’repreparingusfor？Ohmydear，thatwouldbeaTevershallbabyintheWragbycradle，myword!Wouldn’tshameit，neither!
　　Amongothermonstrositiesinthislumberroomwasalargishblackjapannedbox，excellentlyandingeniouslymadesomesixtyorseventyyearsago，andfittedwitheveryimaginableobject。Ontopwasaconcentratedtoiletset：brushes，bottles，mirrors，combs，boxes，eventhreebeautifullittlerazorsinsafetysheaths，shaving-bowlandall。Underneathcameasortofescritoireoutfit：blotters，pens，ink-bottles，paper，envelopes，memorandumbooks：andthenaperfectsewing-outfit，withthreedifferentsizedscissors，thimbles，needles，silksandcottons，darningegg，alloftheverybestqualityandperfectlyfinished。Thentherewasalittlemedicinestore，withbottleslabelledLaudanum，TinctureofMyrrh，Ess。
　　Clovesandsoon：butempty。Everythingwasperfectlynew，andthewholething，whenshutup，wasasbigasasmall，butfatweekendbag。Andinside，itfittedtogetherlikeapuzzle。Thebottlescouldnotpossiblyhavespilled：
　　therewasn’troom。
　　Thethingwaswonderfullymadeandcontrived，excellentcraftsmanshipoftheVictorianorder。Butsomehowitwasmonstrous。SomeChatterleymustevenhavefeltit，forthethinghadneverbeenused。Ithadapeculiarsoullessness。
　　YetMrsBoltonwasthrilled。
　　`Lookwhatbeautifulbrushes，soexpensive，eventheshavingbrushes，threeperfectones!No!andthosescissors!They’rethebestthatmoneycouldbuy。Oh，Icallitlovely!’
　　`Doyou？’saidConnie。`Thenyouhaveit。’
　　`Ohno，myLady!’
　　`Ofcourse!ItwillonlylieheretillDoomsday。Ifyouwon’thaveit，I’llsendittotheDuchessaswellasthepictures，andshedoesn’tdeservesomuch。Dohaveit!’
　　`Oh，yourLadyship!Why，Ishallneverbeabletothankyou。’
　　`Youneedn’ttry，’laughedConnie。
　　AndMrsBoltonsaileddownwiththehugeandveryblackboxinherarms，flushingbrightpinkinherexcitement。
　　MrBettsdroveherinthetraptoherhouseinthevillage，withthebox。Andshehadtohaveafewfriendsin，toshowit：theschool-mistress，thechemist’swife，MrsWeedontheundercashier’swife。Theythoughtitmarvellous。AndthenstartedthewhisperofLadyChatterley’schild。
　　`Wonders’llnevercease!’saidMrsWeedon。
　　ButMrsBoltonwasconvinced，ifitdidcome，itwouldbeSirClifford’schild。Sothere!
　　Notlongafter，therectorsaidgentlytoClifford：
　　`AndmaywereallyhopeforanheirtoWragby？Ah，thatwouldbethehandofGodinmercy，indeed!’
　　`Well!Wemayhope，’saidClifford，withafaintirony，andatthesametime，acertainconviction。Hehadbeguntobelieveitreallypossibleitmightevenbehischild。
　　ThenoneafternooncameLeslieWinter，SquireWinter，aseverybodycalledhim：lean，immaculate，andseventy：andeveryinchagentleman，asMrsBoltonsaidtoMrsBetts。Everymillimetreindeed!Andwithhisold-fashioned，ratherhaw-haw!mannerofspeaking，heseemedmoreoutofdatethanbagwigs。Time，inherflight，dropsthesefineoldfeathers。
　　Theydiscussedthecollieries。Clifford’sideawas，thathiscoal，eventhepoorsort，couldbemadeintohardconcentratedfuelthatwouldburnatgreatheatiffedwithcertaindamp，acidulatedairatafairlystrongpressure。Ithadlongbeenobservedthatinaparticularlystrong，wetwindthepit-bankburnedveryvivid，gaveoffhardlyanyfumes，andleftafinepowderofash，insteadoftheslowpinkgravel。
　　`Butwherewillyoufindtheproperenginesforburningyourfuel？’
　　askedWinter。
　　`I’llmakethemmyself。AndI’llusemyfuelmyself。AndI’llsellelectricpower。I’mcertainIcoulddoit。’
　　`Ifyoucandoit，thensplendid，splendid，mydearboy。Haw!Splendid!
　　IfIcanbeofanyhelp，Ishallbedelighted。I’mafraidIamalittleoutofdate，andmycollieriesarelikeme。Butwhoknows，whenI’mgone，theremaybemenlikeyou。Splendid!Itwillemployallthemenagain，andyouwon’thavetosellyourcoal，orfailtosellit。Asplendididea，andIhopeitwillbeasuccess。IfIhadsonsofmyown，nodoubttheywouldhaveup-to-dateideasforShipley：nodoubt!Bytheway，dearboy，isthereanyfoundationtotherumourthatwemayentertainhopesofanheirtoWragby？’
　　`Istherearumour？’askedClifford。
　　`Well，mydearboy，MarshallfromFillingwoodaskedme，that’sallI
　　cansayaboutarumour。OfcourseIwouldn’trepeatitfortheworld，iftherewerenofoundation。’
　　`Well，Sir，’saidClifforduneasily，butwithstrangebrighteyes。`Thereisahope。Thereisahope。’
　　WintercameacrosstheroomandwrungClifford’shand。
　　`Mydearboy，mydearlad，canyoubelievewhatitmeanstome，tohearthat!Andtohearyouareworkinginthehopesofason：andthatyoumayagainemployeverymanatTevershall。Ah，myboy!tokeepuptheleveloftherace，andtohaveworkwaitingforanymanwhocarestowork!——’
　　Theoldmanwasreallymoved。
　　NextdayConniewasarrangingtallyellowtulipsinaglassvase。
　　`Connie，’saidClifford，`didyouknowtherewasarumourthatyouaregoingtosupplyWragbywithasonandheir？’
　　Conniefeltdimwithterror，yetshestoodquitestill，touchingtheflowers。
　　`No!’shesaid。`Isitajoke？Ormalice？’
　　Hepausedbeforeheanswered：
　　`Neither，Ihope。Ihopeitmaybeaprophecy。’
　　Conniewentonwithherflowers。
　　`IhadaletterfromFatherthismorning，’Shesaid。`HewantstoknowifIamawarehehasacceptedSirAlexanderCooper’sInvitationformeforJulyandAugust，totheVillaEsmeraldainVenice。’
　　`JulyandAugust？’saidClifford。
　　`Oh，Iwouldn’tstayallthattime。Areyousureyouwouldn’tcome？’
　　`Iwon’ttravelabroad，’saidCliffordpromptly。Shetookherflowerstothewindow。
　　`DoyoumindifIgo？’shesaid。Youknowitwaspromised，forthissummer。
　　`Forhowlongwouldyougo？’
　　`Perhapsthreeweeks。’
　　Therewassilenceforatime。
　　`Well，’saidCliffordslowly，andalittlegloomily。`IsupposeIcouldstanditforthreeweeks：ifIwereabsolutelysureyou’dwanttocomeback。’
　　`Ishouldwanttocomeback，’shesaid，withaquietsimplicity，heavywithconviction。Shewasthinkingoftheotherman。
　　Cliffordfeltherconviction，andsomehowhebelievedher，hebelieveditwasforhim。Hefeltimmenselyrelieved，joyfulatonce。
　　`Inthatcase，’hesaid，`Ithinkitwouldbeallright，don’tyou？’
　　`Ithinkso，’shesaid。
　　`You’denjoythechange？’Shelookedupathimwithstrangeblueeyes。
　　`IshouldliketoseeVeniceagain，’shesaid，`andtobathefromoneoftheshingleislandsacrossthelagoon。ButyouknowIloathetheLido!
　　AndIdon’tfancyIshalllikeSirAlexanderCooperandLadyCooper。ButifHildaisthere，andwehaveagondolaofourown：yes，itwillberatherlovely。Idowishyou’dcome。’
　　Shesaiditsincerely。Shewouldsolovetomakehimhappy，intheseways。
　　`Ah，butthinkofme，though，attheGareduNord：atCalaisquay!’
　　`Butwhynot？Iseeothermencarriedinlitter-chairs，whohavebeenwoundedinthewar。Besides，we’dmotoralltheway。’
　　`Weshouldneedtotaketwomen。’
　　`Ohno!We’dmanagewithField。Therewouldalwaysbeanothermanthere。’
　　ButCliffordshookhishead。
　　`Notthisyear，dear!Notthisyear!NextyearprobablyI’lltry。’
　　Shewentawaygloomily。Nextyear!Whatwouldnextyearbring？SheherselfdidnotreallywanttogotoVenice：notnow，nowtherewastheotherman。
　　Butshewasgoingasasortofdiscipline：andalsobecause，ifshehadachild，CliffordcouldthinkshehadaloverinVenice。
　　ItwasalreadyMay，andinJunetheyweresupposedtostart。Alwaysthesearrangements!Alwaysone’slifearrangedforone!Wheelsthatworkedoneanddroveone，andoverwhichonehadnorealcontrol!
　　ItwasMay，butcoldandwetagain。AcoldwetMay，goodforcornandhay!Muchthecornandhaymatternowadays!ConniehadtogointoUthwaite，whichwastheirlittletown，wheretheChatterleyswerestilltheChatterleys。Shewentalone，Fielddrivingher。
　　InspiteofMayandanewgreenness，thecountrywasdismal。Itwasratherchilly，andtherewassmokeontherain，andacertainsenseofexhaustvapourintheair。Onejusthadtolivefromone’sresistance。
　　Nowonderthesepeoplewereuglyandtough。
　　ThecarplougheduphillthroughthelongsqualidstraggleofTevershall，theblackenedbrickdwellings，theblackslateroofsglisteningtheirsharpedges，themudblackwithcoal-dust，thepavementswetandblack。Itwasasifdismalnesshadsoakedthroughandthrougheverything。Theutternegationofnaturalbeauty，theutternegationofthegladnessoflife，theutterabsenceoftheinstinctforshapelybeautywhicheverybirdandbeasthas，theutterdeathofthehumanintuitivefacultywasappalling。Thestacksofsoapinthegrocers’shops，therhubarbandlemonsinthegreengrocers!
　　theawfulhatsinthemilliners!allwentbyugly，ugly，ugly，followedbytheplaster-and-gilthorrorofthecinemawithitswetpictureannouncements，`AWoman’sLove!’，andthenewbigPrimitivechapel，primitiveenoughinitsstarkbrickandbigpanesofgreenishandraspberryglassinthewindows。
　　TheWesleyanchapel，higherup，wasofblackenedbrickandstoodbehindironrailingsandblackenedshrubs。TheCongregationalchapel，whichthoughtitselfsuperior，wasbuiltofrusticatedsandstoneandhadasteeple，butnotaveryhighone。Justbeyondwerethenewschoolbuildings，expensivinkbrick，andgravelledplaygroundinsideironrailings，allveryimposing，andfixingthesuggestionofachapelandaprison。StandardFivegirlswerehavingasinginglesson，justfinishingthela-me-doh-laexercisesandbeginninga`sweetchildren’ssong’。Anythingmoreunlikesong，spontaneoussong，wouldbeimpossibletoimagine：astrangebawlingyellthatfollowedtheoutlinesofatune。Itwasnotlikesavages：savageshavesubtlerhythms。
　　Itwasnotlikeanimals：animalsmeansomethingwhentheyyell。
　　Itwaslikenothingonearth，anditwascalledsinging。Conniesatandlistenedwithherheartinherboots，asFieldwasfillingpetrol。Whatcouldpossiblybecomeofsuchapeople，apeopleinwhomthelivingintuitivefacultywasdeadasnails，andonlyqueermechanicalyellsanduncannywill-powerremained？
　　Acoal-cartwascomingdownhill，clankingintherain。Fieldstartedupwards，pastthebigbutweary-lookingdrapersandclothingshops，thepost-office，intothelittlemarket-placeofforlornspace，whereSamBlackwaspeeringoutofthedooroftheSun，thatcalleditselfaninn，notapub，andwherethecommercialtravellersstayed，andwasbowingtoLadyChatterley’scar。
　　Thechurchwasawaytotheleftamongblacktrees。Thecarslidondownhill，pasttheMiners’Arms。IthadalreadypassedtheWellington，theNelson，theThreeTuns，andtheSun，nowitpassedtheMiners’Arms，thentheMechanics’
　　Hall，thenthenewandalmostgaudyMiners’Welfareandso，pastafewnew`villas’，outintotheblackenedroadbetweendarkhedgesanddarkgreenfields，towardsStacksGate。
　　Tevershall!ThatwasTevershall!MerrieEngland!Shakespeare’sEngland!
　　No，buttheEnglandoftoday，asConniehadrealizedsinceshehadcometoliveinit。Itwasproducinganewraceofmankind，over-consciousinthemoneyandsocialandpoliticalside，onthespontaneous，intuitivesidedead，butdead。Half-corpses，allofthem：butwithaterribleinsistentconsciousnessintheotherhalf。Therewassomethinguncannyandundergroundaboutitall。Itwasanunder-world。Andquiteincalculable。Howshallweunderstandthereactionsinhalf-corpses？WhenConniesawthegreatlorriesfullofsteel-workersfromSheffield，weird，distortedsmallishbeingslikemen，offforanexcursiontoMatlock，herbowelsfaintedandshethought：AhGod，whathasmandonetoman？Whathavetheleadersofmenbeendoingtotheirfellowmen？Theyhavereducedthemtolessthanhumanness；andnowtherecanbenofellowshipanymore!Itisjustanightmare。
　　Shefeltagaininawaveofterrorthegrey，grittyhopelessnessofitall。Withsuchcreaturesfortheindustrialmasses，andtheupperclassesassheknewthem，therewasnohope，nohopeanymore。Yetshewaswantingababy，andanheirtoWragby!AnheirtoWragby!Sheshudderedwithdread。
　　YetMellorshadcomeoutofallthis!——Yes，buthewasasapartfromitallasshewas。Eveninhimtherewasnofellowshipleft。Itwasdead。
　　Thefellowshipwasdead。Therewasonlyapartnessandhopelessness，asfarasallthiswasconcerned。AndthiswasEngland，thevastbulkofEngland：
　　asConnieknew，sinceshehadmotoredfromthecentreofit。
　　ThecarwasrisingtowardsStacksGate。Therainwasholdingoff，andintheaircameaqueerpellucidgleamofMay。Thecountryrolledawayinlongundulations，southtowardsthePeak，easttowardsMansfieldandNottingham。ConniewastravellingSouth。
　　Assheroseontothehighcountry，shecouldseeonherleft，onaheightabovetherollingland，theshadowy，powerfulbulkofWarsopCastle，darkgrey，withbelowitthereddishplasteringofminers’dwellings，newish，andbelowthosetheplumesofdarksmokeandwhitesteamfromthegreatcollierywhichputsomanythousandpoundsperannumintothepocketsoftheDukeandtheothershareholders。Thepowerfuloldcastlewasaruin，yetithungitsbulkonthelowsky-line，overtheblackplumesandthewhitethatwavedonthedampairbelow。