David Herbert Lawrence

for their talk was ordinary enough. But Alvina liked to be with Miss

Pinnegar in the kitchen. Miss Pinnegar wasn't competent and

masterful like Miss Frost: she was ordinary and uninspired, with

quiet, unobserved movements. But she was deep, and there was some

secret satisfaction in her very quality of secrecy.

So the days and weeks and months slipped by, and Alvina was hidden

like a mole in the dark chambers of Manchester House, busy with

cooking and cleaning and arranging, getting the house in her own

order, and attending to her pupils. She took her walk in the

afternoon. Once and only once she went to Throttle-Ha'penny, and,

seized with sudden curiosity, insisted on being wound down in the

iron bucket to the little workings underneath. Everything was quite

tidy in the short gang-ways down below, timbered and in sound order.

The miners were competent enough. But water dripped dismally in

places, and there was a stale feeling in the air.

Her father accompanied her, pointed her to the seam of

yellow-flecked coal, the shale and the bind, the direction of the

trend. He had already an airy-fairy kind of knowledge of the whole

affair, and seemed like some not quite trustworthy conjuror who had

conjured it all up by sleight of hand. In the background the miners

stood grey and ghostly, in the candle-light, and seemed to listen

sardonically. One of them, facile in his subordinate way as James in

his authoritative, kept chiming in:

"Ay, that's the road it goes, Miss Huffen--yis, yo'll see th' roof

theer bellies down a bit--s' loose. No, you dunna get th' puddin'

stones i' this pit--s' not deep enough. Eh, they come down on you

plumb, as if th' roof had laid its egg on you. Ay, it runs a bit

thin down here--six inches. You see th' bed's soft, it's a sort o'

clay-bind, it's not clunch such as you get deeper. Oh, it's easy

workin'--you don't have to knock your guts out. There's no need for

shots, Miss Huffen--we bring it down--you see here--" And he

stooped, pointing to a shallow, shelving excavation which he was

making under the coal. The working was low, you must stoop all the

time. The roof and the timbered sides of the way seemed to press on

you. It was as if she were in her tomb for ever, like the dead and

everlasting Egyptians. She was frightened, but fascinated. The

collier kept on talking to her, stretching his bare, grey-black

hairy arm across her vision, and pointing with his knotted hand. The

thick-wicked tallow candles guttered and smelled. There was a

thickness in the air, a sense of dark, fluid presence in the thick

atmosphere, the dark, fluid, viscous voice of the collier making a

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