David Herbert Lawrence

Slaves who would cause the superimposed day-order to fall. Not

because, individually, they wanted to. But because, collectively,

something bubbled up in them, the force of darkness which had no

master and no control. It would bubble and stir in them as

earthquakes stir the earth. It would be simply disastrous, because

it had no master. There was no dark master in the world. The puerile

world went on crying out for a new Jesus, another Saviour from the

sky, another heavenly superman. When what was wanted was a Dark

Master from the underworld.

So they streamed past her, home from work--grey from head to foot,

distorted in shape, cramped, with curious faces that came out pallid

from under their dirt. Their walk was heavy-footed and slurring,

their bearing stiff and grotesque. A stream they were--yet they

seemed to her to loom like strange, valid figures of fairy-lore,

unrealized and as yet unexperienced. The miners, the iron-workers,

those who fashion the stuff of the underworld.

As it always comes to its children, the nostalgia of the repulsive,

heavy-footed Midlands came over her again, even whilst she was

there in the midst. The curious, dark, inexplicable and yet

insatiable craving--as if for an earthquake. To feel the earth heave

and shudder and shatter the world from beneath. To go down in the

débâcle.

And so, in spite of everything, poverty, dowdiness, obscurity, and

nothingness, she was content to stay in abeyance at home for the

time. True, she was filled with the same old, slow, dreadful craving

of the Midlands: a craving insatiable and inexplicable. But the very

craving kept her still. For at this time she did not translate it

into a desire, or need, for love. At the back of her mind somewhere

was the fixed idea, the fixed intention of finding love, a man. But

as yet, at this period, the idea was in abeyance, it did not act.

The craving that possessed her as it possesses everybody, in a

greater or less degree, in those parts, sustained her darkly and

unconsciously.

A hot summer waned into autumn, the long, bewildering days drew in,

the transient nights, only a few breaths of shadow between noon and

noon, deepened and strengthened. A restlessness came over everybody.

There was another short strike among the miners. James Houghton,

like an excited beetle, scurried to and fro, feeling he was making

his fortune. Never had Woodhouse been so thronged on Fridays with

purchasers and money-spenders. The place seemed surcharged with

life.

Autumn lasted beautiful till end of October. And then suddenly, cold

rain, endless cold rain, and darkness heavy, wet, ponderous. Through

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