in her. Clifford did not notice: those were not things he was aware of. But
the stranger knew. To Connie, everything in her world and life seemed worn
out, and her dissatisfaction was older than the hills.
They came to the house, and around to the back, where there were no
steps. Clifford managed to swing himself over on to the low, wheeled
house-chair; he was very strong and agile with his arms. Then Connie lifted
the burden of his dead legs after him.
The keeper, waiting at attention to be dismissed, watched everything
narrowly, missing nothing. He went pale, with a sort of fear, when he saw
Connie lifting the inert legs of the man in her arms, into the other chair,
Clifford pivoting round as she did so. He was frightened.
`Thanks, then, for the help, Mellors,' said Clifford casually, as he
began to wheel down the passage to the servants' quarters.
`Nothing else, Sir?' came the neutral voice, like one in a dream.
`Nothing, good morning!'
`Good morning, Sir.'
`Good morning! it was kind of you to push the chair up that hill...I
hope it wasn't heavy for you,' said Connie, looking back at the keeper
outside the door.
His eyes came to hers in an instant, as if wakened up. He was aware of
her.
`Oh no, not heavy!' he said quickly. Then his voice dropped again into
the broad sound of the vernacular: `Good mornin' to your Ladyship!'
`Who is your game-keeper?' Connie asked at lunch.
`Mellors! You saw him,' said Clifford.
`Yes, but where did he come from?'
`Nowhere! He was a Tevershall boy...son of a collier, I believe.'
`And was he a collier himself?'
`Blacksmith on the pit-bank, I believe: overhead smith. But he was
keeper here for two years before the war...before he joined up. My father
always had a good Opinion of him, so when he came back, and went to the pit
for a blacksmith's job, I just took him back here as keeper. I was really
very glad to get him...its almost impossible to find a good man round here
for a gamekeeper...and it needs a man who knows the people.'
`And isn't he married?'
`He was. But his wife went off with...with various men...but finally
with a collier at Stacks Gate, and I believe she's living there still.'
`So this man is alone?'
`More or less! He has a mother in the village...and a child, I
believe.'
Clifford looked at Connie, with his pale, slightly prominent blue eyes,
in which a certain vagueness was coming. He seemed alert in the foreground,
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