The Trespasser by D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence
page 56 of 303 (18%)
page 56 of 303 (18%)
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When Siegmund had Helena near, he lost the ache, the yearning towards
something, which he always felt otherwise. She seemed to connect him with the beauty of things, as if she were the nerve through which he received intelligence of the sun, and wind, and sea, and of the moon and the darkness. Beauty she never felt herself came to him through her. It is that makes love. He could always sympathize with the wistful little flowers, and trees lonely in their crowds, and wild, sad seabirds. In these things he recognized the great yearning, the ache outwards towards something, with which he was ordinarily burdened. But with Helena, in this large sea-morning, he was whole and perfect as the day. 'Will it be fine all day?' he asked, when a cloud came over. 'I don't know,' she replied in her gentle, inattentive manner, as if she did not care at all. 'I think it will be a mixed day--cloud and sun--more sun than cloud.' She looked up gravely to see if he agreed. He turned from frowning at the cloud to smile at her. He seemed so bright, teeming with life. 'I like a bare blue sky,' he said; 'sunshine that you seem to stir about as you walk.' 'It is warm enough here, even for you,' she smiled. 'Ah, here!' he answered, putting his face down to receive the radiation from the stone, letting his fingers creep towards Helena's. She laughed, and captured his fingers, pressing them into her hand. For nearly an hour they remained thus in the still sunshine by the sea-wall, till Helena began to sigh, and to lift her face to the little breeze that |
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