Morel

“ But if Morel had not come they faltered. The sense of his sitting in all his pit-dirt, drinking, after a long day’s work, not coming home and eating and washing, but sitting, getting drunk, on an empty stomach, made Mrs. Morel unable to bear herself. From her the feeling was transmitted to the other children. She never suffered alone any more: the children suffered with her.
Paul went out to play with the rest. Down in the great trough of twilight, tiny clusters of lights burned where the pits were. A few last colliers straggled up the dim field-path. ”

“ Morel spent the rest of the evening with her old friend, Mrs. Burns. He was keenly alive on his walks on Sunday nights with Edgar and Miriam. He never went past the pits at night, by the lighted lamp-house, the tall black headstocks and lines of trucks, past the fans spinning slowly like shadows, without the feeling of Miriam returning to him, keen and almost unbearable.
She did not very long occupy the Morels' pew. Her father took one for themselves once more. It was under the little gallery, opposite the Morels'. When Paul and his mother came in the chapel the Leivers' pew was always empty. ”

“ These words made a sudden and painful impression on Morel, and he cast his eyes on his weeping child still on her knees before him; then, with a searching look, impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice, clenching his teeth with rage:
"The notary?"
An answer came to Louise's lips. She was about to speak, but paused,—no doubt a reflection,—and, bending down her head, remained silent.
"No, no; he sought to imprison me this morning!" continued Morel, with a violent burst. "Can it be he? Ah, so much the better, so much the better! She has not even an excuse for her crime ”

“ Morel gave each of them a sovereign till there were no more sovereigns; each half a crown till there were no more half-crowns; each a shilling till there were no more shillings. If there was anything at the end that wouldn’t split, Morel took it and stood drinks.
Then the three men rose and went. Morel scuttled out of the house before his wife came down. She heard the door close, and descended. She looked hastily at the bread in the oven. Then, glancing on the table, she saw her money lying. Paul had been working all the time. ”

“ Immediately he had finished tea he rose with alacrity to go out. It was this alacrity, this haste to be gone, which so sickened Mrs. Morel. As she heard him sousing heartily in cold water, heard the eager scratch of the steel comb on the side of the bowl, as he wetted his hair, she closed her eyes in disgust. As he bent over, lacing his boots, there was a certain vulgar gusto in his movement that divided him from the reserved, watchful rest of the family. He always ran away from the battle with himself. ”

“ There was something evanescent about Morel, she thought, something shifting and false. He would never make sure ground for any woman to stand on. She despised him rather for his shrinking together, getting smaller. Her husband at least was manly, and when he was beaten gave in. But this other would never own to being beaten. He would shift round and round, prowl, get smaller. She despised him. And yet she watched him rather than Dawes, and it seemed as if their three fates lay in his hands. ”

“ Morel took a panchion, a great bowl of thick red earth, streamed a heap of white sugar into the bottom, and then, straining herself to the weight, was pouring in the liquor.
Just then Morel came in. He had been very jolly in the Nelson, but coming home had grown irritable. He had not quite got over the feeling of irritability and pain, after having slept on the ground when he was so hot; and a bad conscience afflicted him as he neared the house. He did not know he was angry. ”

“ Morel measured herself against the younger woman, and found herself easily stronger. Clara was deferential. She knew Paul’s surprising regard for his mother, and she had dreaded the meeting, expecting someone rather hard and cold. She was surprised to find this little interested woman chatting with such readiness; and then she felt, as she felt with Paul, that she would not care to stand in Mrs. Morel’s way. ”

“ Morel danced a little nearer, crouching, drawing back his fist to strike. William put his fists ready. A light came into his blue eyes, almost like a laugh. He watched his father. Another word, and the men would have begun to fight. Paul hoped they would. The three children sat pale on the sofa.
"Stop it, both of you," cried Mrs. Morel in a hard voice. "We've had enough for one night. And you," she said, turning on to her husband, "look at your children!"
Morel glanced at the sofa.
"Look at the children, you nasty little bitch!" ”

“ Morel saw the wrist and the white hand of the other man gripping the stem of the pipe and knocking out the ash, as if he had given up.
"How old are you?" Paul asked.
"Thirty-nine," replied Dawes, glancing at him.
Those brown eyes, full of the consciousness of failure, [472] almost pleading for reassurance, for someone to re-establish the man in himself, to warn him, to set him up firm again, troubled Paul.
"You'll just be in your prime," said Morel. "You don't look as if much life had gone out of you." ”

“ Morel fetched a sheaf of long sound wheat-straws from the attic. These he cleaned with his hand, till each one gleamed like a stalk of gold, after which he cut the straws into lengths of about six inches, leaving, if he could, a notch at the bottom of each piece. He always had a beautifully sharp knife that could cut a straw clean without hurting it. Then he set in the middle of the table a heap of gunpowder, a little pile of black grains upon the white-scrubbed board. He made and trimmed the straws while Paul and Annie rifled and plugged them. ”

“ He went downstairs in his shirt and then struggled into his pit-trousers, which were left on the hearth to warm all night. There was always a fire, because Mrs. Morel raked. And the first sound in the house was the bang, bang of the poker against the raker, as Morel smashed the remainder of the coal to make the kettle, which was filled and left on the hob, finally boil. ”

“ Is she so fascinating that you must follow her all that way?” Mrs. Morel was bitterly sarcastic. She sat still, with averted face, stroking with a rhythmic, jerked movement, the black sateen of her apron. It was a movement that hurt Paul to see.
“I do like her,” he said, “but—”
“Like her!” said Mrs. Morel, in the same biting tones. “It seems to me you like nothing and nobody else. There’s neither Annie, nor me, nor anyone now for you.” ”

“ Mrs. Morel got gradually worse. At first they used to carry her downstairs, sometimes even into the garden. She sat propped in her chair, smiling, and so pretty. The gold wedding-ring shone on her white hand; her hair was carefully brushed. And she watched the tangled sunflowers dying, the chrysanthemums coming out, and the dahlias.
Paul and she were afraid of each other. He knew, and she knew, that she was dying. But they kept up a pretence of cheerfulness. Every morning, when he got up, he went into her room in his pyjamas. ”

“ Mrs. Morel was strong on her feet again. He was not going to stick to Miriam. Very well; then she would stand aloof till he said something. It had been coming a long time, this bursting of the storm in him, when he would come back to her. This evening there was between them a peculiar condition of suspense. He worked feverishly and mechanically, so that he could escape from himself. It grew late. Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad. ”

“ These words recalled Morel to himself; he covered his face with his hands, and, without saying a word, he fell at Rudolph's feet.
"Rise, unfortunate father!" said Rudolph kindly. "Patience, patience; I understand your fury, I partake of your hatred; but, in the name even of your vengeance, do not compromise it."
"Good heavens!" cried the artisan, raising himself up. "What can justice—law—do in such a case? Poor as we are, when we go and accuse the powerful, rich, and respected man, they will laugh in our face— ah, ah, ah!" and he laughed convulsively. "And they will be right. ”

“ He would never have got so far in the direction of sentimentality as to read poetry to his own family. But now they condescended to listen. Miriam sat on the sofa absorbed in him. She always seemed absorbed in him, and by him, when he was present. Mrs. Morel sat jealously in her own chair. She was going to hear also. And even Annie and the father attended, Morel with his head cocked on one side, like somebody listening to a sermon and feeling conscious of the fact. Paul ducked his head over the book. ”

“ Morel’s heart, and her treatment of Paul was different from that of the other children.
Suddenly one morning as she was looking down the alley of the Bottoms for the barm-man, she heard a voice calling her. It was the thin little Mrs. Anthony in brown velvet.
“Here, Mrs. Morel, I want to tell you about your Willie.”
“Oh, do you?” replied Mrs. Morel. “Why, what’s the matter?”
“A lad as gets ’old of another an’ rips his clothes off’n ’is back,” Mrs. Anthony said, “wants showing something.”
“Your Alfred’s as old as my William,” said Mrs. Morel. ”

“ You will never quit us more, never know sorrow or care again, and henceforward we shall all be happy and prosperous!"
"Happy? Let me try and recollect a little of past things. I seem to have a faint recollection of your being taken to prison—and—and then, Louise, all seems a blank and confusion here," continued Morel, pressing his hand to his temples.
"Never mind all that, dearest father! I am here and innocent,—let that comfort and console you."
"Stay, stay! That note of hand I gave! Ah, now I remember it all!" cried the lapidary, with shuddering horror. ”

“ Morel rushed to the door.
“His picture’s got first prize, Fred,” she cried, “and is sold for twenty guineas.”
“My word, that’s something like!” said the young postman, whom they had known all his life.
“And Major Moreton has bought it!” she cried.
“It looks like meanin’ something, that does, Mrs. Morel,” said the postman, his blue eyes bright. He was glad to have brought such a lucky letter. Mrs. Morel went indoors and sat down, trembling. Paul was afraid lest she might have misread the letter, and might be disappointed after all. He scrutinized it once, twice. ”

“ Morel, going to the field fence to shake her hearthrug, would spy men coming slowly up the hill. She saw at once they were colliers. Then she waited, a tall, thin, shrew-faced woman, standing on the hill brow, almost like a menace to the poor colliers who were toiling up. It was only eleven o’clock. ”

“ Morel, “that you’re so ready to side with any snipey vixen who likes to come telling tales against your own children.”
“I’ll learn ’im!” said Morel. “It none matters to me whose lad ’e is; ’e’s none goin’ rippin’ an’ tearin’ about just as he’s a mind.”
“ ‘Ripping and tearing about’!” repeated Mrs. Morel. “He was running after that Alfy, who’d taken his cobbler, and he accidentally got hold of his collar, because the other dodged—as an Anthony would.” ”

“ The trucks stood full of wet, bright coal. Water ran down the sides of the waggons, over the white “C. W. and Co.” Colliers, walking indifferent to the rain, were streaming down the line and up the field, a grey, dismal host. Morel put up his umbrella, and took pleasure from the peppering of the drops thereon.
All along the road to Bestwood the miners tramped, wet and grey and dirty, but their red mouths talking with animation. Morel also walked with a gang, but he said nothing. He frowned peevishly as he went. Many men passed into the Prince of Wales or into Ellen’s. ”

“ There would be the swift, slight "cluck" of her needle, the sharp "pop" of his lips as he let out the smoke, the warmth, the sizzle on the bars as he spat in the fire. Then her thoughts turned to William. Already he was getting a big boy. Already he was top of the class, and the master said he was the smartest lad in the school. She saw him a man, young, full of vigour, making the world glow again for her.
And Morel sitting there, quite alone, and having nothing to think about, would be feeling vaguely uncomfortable. His soul would reach out in its blind way to her and find her gone. ”

“ So wretched a condition either arises from improvidence and vice, or from unavoidable misery,—misery so great, so overwhelming and paralysing, as to enfeeble every energy, and to render the unhappy object of it too hopeless, too despairing, even to attempt to extricate himself from the squalor of his utter destitution, and he crouches in his dirt and desolation like an animal in its den.
During the day, Morel's garret was lighted by a species of long, narrow skylight formed in the descending roof, framed and glazed, and made to open and shut by means of a pulley and string ”

“ She sat and laughed.
"You've had a constitution like iron," she said; "and never a man had a better start, if it was body that counted. You should have seen him as a young man," she cried suddenly to Paul, drawing herself up to imitate her husband's once handsome bearing.
Morel watched her shyly. He saw again the passion she had had for him. It blazed upon her for a moment. He was shy, rather scared, and humble. Yet again he felt his old glow. ”

“ Morel. "If you want to say these things, you must find another place than this. I am ashamed of you, William! Why don't you be more manly? To do nothing but find fault with a girl, and then pretend you're engaged to her!"
[159]
Mrs. Morel subsided in wrath and indignation.
William was silent, and later he repented, kissed and comforted the girl. Yet it was true, what he had said. He hated her.
When they were going away, Mrs. Morel accompanied them as far as Nottingham. It was a long way to Keston station.
"You know, mother," he said to her, "Gyp's shallow. Nothing goes deep with her." ”