CHAPTER X.
SKETCH-BOOK
One morning the sisters were sketching by the side of Willey Water, atthe remote end of the lake. Gudrun had waded out to a gravelly shoal,and was seated like a Buddhist, staring fixedly at the water-plantsthat rose succulent from the mud of the low shores. What she could seewas mud, soft, oozy, watery mud, and from its festering chill,water-plants rose up, thick and cool and fleshy, very straight andturgid, thrusting out their leaves at right angles, and having darklurid colours, dark green and blotches of black-purple and bronze. Butshe could feel their turgid fleshy structure as in a sensuous vision,she KNEW how they rose out of the mud, she KNEW how they thrust outfrom themselves, how they stood stiff and succulent against the air.
Ursula was watching the butterflies, of which there were dozens nearthe water, little blue ones suddenly snapping out of nothingness into ajewel-life, a large black-and-red one standing upon a flower andbreathing with his soft wings, intoxicatingly, breathing pure, etherealsunshine; two white ones wrestling in the low air; there was a haloround them; ah, when they came tumbling nearer they were orangetips,and it was the orange that had made the halo. Ursula rose and driftedaway, unconscious like the butterflies.
Gudrun, absorbed in a stupor of apprehension of surging water-plants,sat crouched on the shoal, drawing, not looking up for a long time, andthen staring unconsciously, absorbedly at the rigid, naked, succulentstems. Her feet were bare, her hat lay on the bank opposite.
She started out of her trance, hearing the knocking of oars. She lookedround. There was a boat with a gaudy Japanese parasol, and a man inwhite, rowing. The woman was Hermione, and the man was Gerald. She knewit instantly. And instantly she perished in the keen FRISSON ofanticipation, an electric vibration in her veins, intense, much moreintense than that which was always humming low in the atmosphere ofBeldover.
Gerald was her escape from the heavy slough of the pale, underworld,automatic colliers. He started out of the mud. He was master. She sawhis back, the movement of his white loins. But not that--it was thewhiteness he seemed to enclose as he bent forwards, rowing. He seemedto stoop to something. His glistening, whitish hair seemed like theelectricity of the sky.
'There's Gudrun,' came Hermione's voice floating distinct over thewater. 'We will go and speak to her. Do you mind?'
Gerald looked round and saw the girl standing by the water's edge,looking at him. He pulled the boat towards her, magnetically, withoutthinking of her. In his world, his conscious world, she was stillnobody. He knew that Hermione had a curious pleasure in treading downall the social differences, at least apparently, and he left it to her.
'How do you do, Gudrun?' sang Hermione, using the Christian name in thefashionable manner. 'What are you doing?'
'How do you do, Hermione? I WAS sketching.'
'Were you?' The boat drifted nearer, till the keel ground on the bank.'May we see? I should like to SO much.'
It was no use resisting Hermione's deliberate intention.
'Well--' said Gudrun reluctantly, for she always hated to have herunfinished work exposed--'there's nothing in the least interesting.'
'Isn't there? But let me see, will you?'
Gudrun reached out the sketch-book, Gerald stretched from the boat totake it. And as he did so, he remembered Gudrun's last words to him,and her face lifted up to him as he sat on the swerving horse. Anintensification of pride went over his nerves, because he felt, in someway she was compelled by him. The exchange of feeling between them wasstrong and apart from their consciousness.
And as if in a spell, Gudrun was aware of his body, stretching andsurging like the marsh-fire, stretching towards her, his hand comingstraight forward like a stem. Her voluptuous, acute apprehension of himmade the blood faint in her veins, her mind went dim and unconscious.And he rocked on the water perfectly, like the rocking ofphosphorescence. He looked round at the boat. It was drifting off alittle. He lifted the oar to bring it back. And the exquisite pleasureof slowly arresting the boat, in the heavy-soft water, was complete asa swoon.
'THAT'S what you have done,' said Hermione, looking searchingly at theplants on the shore, and comparing with Gudrun's drawing. Gudrun lookedround in the direction of Hermione's long, pointing finger. 'That isit, isn't it?' repeated Hermione, needing confirmation.
'Yes,' said Gudrun automatically, taking no real heed.
'Let me look,' said Gerald, reaching forward for the book. But Hermioneignored him, he must not presume, before she had finished. But he, hiswill as unthwarted and as unflinching as hers, stretched forward tillhe touched the book. A little shock, a storm of revulsion against him,shook Hermione unconsciously. She released the book when he had notproperly got it, and it tumbled against the side of the boat andbounced into the water.
'There!' sang Hermione, with a strange ring of malevolent victory. 'I'mso sorry, so awfully sorry. Can't you get it, Gerald?'
This last was said in a note of anxious sneering that made Gerald'sveins tingle with fine hate for her. He leaned far out of the boat,reaching down into the water. He could feel his position wasridiculous, his loins exposed behind him.
'It is of no importance,' came the strong, clanging voice of Gudrun.She seemed to touch him. But he reached further, the boat swayedviolently. Hermione, however, remained unperturbed. He grasped thebook, under the water, and brought it up, dripping.
'I'm so dreadfully sorry--dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione. 'I'mafraid it was all my fault.'
'It's of no importance--really, I assure you--it doesn't matter in theleast,' said Gudrun loudly, with emphasis, her face flushed scarlet.And she held out her hand impatiently for the wet book, to have donewith the scene. Gerald gave it to her. He was not quite himself.
'I'm so dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione, till both Gerald andGudrun were exasperated. 'Is there nothing that can be done?'
'In what way?' asked Gudrun, with cool irony.
'Can't we save the drawings?'
There was a moment's pause, wherein Gudrun made evident all herrefutation of Hermione's persistence.
'I assure you,' said Gudrun, with cutting distinctness, 'the drawingsare quite as good as ever they were, for my purpose. I want them onlyfor reference.'
'But can't I give you a new book? I wish you'd let me do that. I feelso truly sorry. I feel it was all my fault.'
'As far as I saw,' said Gudrun, 'it wasn't your fault at all. If therewas any FAULT, it was Mr Crich's. But the whole thing is ENTIRELYtrivial, and it really is ridiculous to take any notice of it.'
Gerald watched Gudrun closely, whilst she repulsed Hermione. There wasa body of cold power in her. He watched her with an insight thatamounted to clairvoyance. He saw her a dangerous, hostile spirit, thatcould stand undiminished and unabated. It was so finished, and of suchperfect gesture, moreover.
'I'm awfully glad if it doesn't matter,' he said; 'if there's no realharm done.'
She looked back at him, with her fine blue eyes, and signalled fullinto his spirit, as she said, her voice ringing with intimacy almostcaressive now it was addressed to him:
'Of course, it doesn't matter in the LEAST.'
The bond was established between them, in that look, in her tone. Inher tone, she made the understanding clear--they were of the same kind,he and she, a sort of diabolic freemasonry subsisted between them.Henceforward, she knew, she had her power over him. Wherever they met,they would be secretly associated. And he would be helpless in theassociation with her. Her soul exulted.
'Good-bye! I'm so glad you forgive me. Gooood-bye!'
Hermione sang her farewell, and waved her hand. Gerald automaticallytook the oar and pushed off. But he was looking all the time, with aglimmering, subtly-smiling admiration in his eyes, at Gudrun, who stoodon the shoal shaking the wet book in her hand. She turned away andignored the receding boat. But Gerald looked back as he rowed,beholding her, forgetting what he was doing.
'Aren't we going too much to the left?' sang Hermione, as she satignored under her coloured parasol.
Gerald looked round without replying, the oars balanced and glancing inthe sun.
'I think it's all right,' he said good-humouredly, beginning to rowagain without thinking of what he was doing. And Hermione disliked himextremely for his good-humoured obliviousness, she was nullified, shecould not regain ascendancy.