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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 33/388
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Clifford
loved
the
wood
;
he
loved
the
old
oak
-
trees
.
He
felt
they
were
his
own
through
generations
.
He
wanted
to
protect
them
.
He
wanted
this
place
inviolate
,
shut
off
from
the
world
.
The
chair
chuffed
slowly
up
the
incline
,
rocking
and
jolting
on
the
frozen
clods
.
And
suddenly
,
on
the
left
,
came
a
clearing
where
there
was
nothing
but
a
ravel
of
dead
bracken
,
a
thin
and
spindly
sapling
leaning
here
and
there
,
big
sawn
stumps
,
showing
their
tops
and
their
grasping
roots
,
lifeless
.
And
patches
of
blackness
where
the
woodmen
had
burned
the
brushwood
and
rubbish
.
This
was
one
of
the
places
that
Sir
Geoffrey
had
cut
during
the
war
for
trench
timber
.
The
whole
knoll
,
which
rose
softly
on
the
right
of
the
riding
,
was
denuded
and
strangely
forlorn
.
On
the
crown
of
the
knoll
where
the
oaks
had
stood
,
now
was
bareness
;
and
from
there
you
could
look
out
over
the
trees
to
the
colliery
railway
,
and
the
new
works
at
Stacks
Gate
.
Connie
had
stood
and
looked
,
it
was
a
breach
in
the
pure
seclusion
of
the
wood
.
It
let
in
the
world
.
But
she
didn
’
t
tell
Clifford
.
This
denuded
place
always
made
Clifford
curiously
angry
.
He
had
been
through
the
war
,
had
seen
what
it
meant
.
But
he
didn
’
t
get
really
angry
till
he
saw
this
bare
hill
.
He
was
having
it
replanted
.
But
it
made
him
hate
Sir
Geoffrey
.
Clifford
sat
with
a
fixed
face
as
the
chair
slowly
mounted
.
When
they
came
to
the
top
of
the
rise
he
stopped
;
he
would
not
risk
the
long
and
very
jolty
down
-
slope
.
He
sat
looking
at
the
greenish
sweep
of
the
riding
downwards
,
a
clear
way
through
the
bracken
and
oaks
.
It
swerved
at
the
bottom
of
the
hill
and
disappeared
;
but
it
had
such
a
lovely
easy
curve
,
of
knights
riding
and
ladies
on
palfreys
.
’
I
consider
this
is
really
the
heart
of
England
,
’
said
Clifford
to
Connie
,
as
he
sat
there
in
the
dim
February
sunshine
.
’
Do
you
?
’
she
said
,
seating
herself
in
her
blue
knitted
dress
,
on
a
stump
by
the
path
.
’
I
do
!
this
is
the
old
England
,
the
heart
of
it
;
and
I
intend
to
keep
it
intact
.
’
’
Oh
yes
!
’
said
Connie
.
But
,
as
she
said
it
she
heard
the
eleven
-
o
’
clock
hooters
at
Stacks
Gate
colliery
.
Clifford
was
too
used
to
the
sound
to
notice
.
’
I
want
this
wood
perfect
.
.
.
untouched
.
I
want
nobody
to
trespass
in
it
,
’
said
Clifford
.
