Again there was a splash, and he was gone under.Gudrun sat, sick at heart, frightened of the great, level surface of the water, so heavy and deadly.She was so alone, with the level, unliving field of the water stretching beneath her.It was not a good isolation, it was a terrible, cold separation of suspense.She was suspended upon the surface of the insidious reality until such time as she also should disappear beneath it.
Then she knew, by a stirring of voices, that he had climbed out again, into a boat.She sat wanting connection with him.Strenuously she claimed her connection with him, across the invisible space of the water.But round her heart was an isolation unbearable, through which nothing would penetrate.
`Take the launch in.It's no use keeping her there.Get lines for the dragging,' came the decisive, instrumental voice, that was full of the sound of the world.
The launch began gradually to beat the waters.
`Gerald! Gerald!' came the wild crying voice of Winifred.He did not answer.Slowly the launch drifted round in a pathetic, clumsy circle, and slunk away to the land, retreating into the dimness.The wash of her paddles grew duller.Gudrun rocked in her light boat, and dipped the paddle automatically to steady herself.
`Gudrun?' called Ursula's voice.
`Ursula!'
The boats of the two sisters pulled together.
`Where is Gerald?' said Gudrun.
`He's dived again,' said Ursula plaintively.`And I know he ought not, with his hurt hand and everything.'
`I'll take him in home this time,' said Birkin.
The boats swayed again from the wash of steamer.Gudrun and Ursula kept a look-out for Gerald.
`There he is!' cried Ursula, who had the sharpest eyes.He had not been long under.Birkin pulled towards him, Gudrun following.He swam slowly, and caught hold of the boat with his wounded hand.It slipped, and he sank back.
`Why don't you help him?' cried Ursula sharply.
He came again, and Birkin leaned to help him in to the boat.Gudrun again watched Gerald climb out of the water, but this time slowly, heavily, with the blind clambering motions of an amphibious beast, clumsy.Again the moon shone with faint luminosity on his white wet figure, on the stooping back and the rounded loins.But it looked defeated now, his body, it clambered and fell with slow clumsiness.He was breathing hoarsely too, like an animal that is suffering.He sat slack and motionless in the boat, his head blunt and blind like a seal's, his whole appearance inhuman, unknowing.Gudrun shuddered as she mechanically followed his boat.Birkin rowed without speaking to the landing-stage.
`Where are you going?' Gerald asked suddenly, as if just waking up.
`Home,' said Birkin.
`Oh no!' said Gerald imperiously.`We can't go home while they're in the water.Turn back again, I'm going to find them.' The women were frightened, his voice was so imperative and dangerous, almost mad, not to be opposed.
`No!' said Birkin.`You can't.' There was a strange fluid compulsion in his voice.Gerald was silent in a battle of wills.It was as if he would kill the other man.But Birkin rowed evenly and unswerving, with an inhuman inevitability.
`Why should you interfere?' said Gerald, in hate.
Birkin did not answer.He rowed towards the land.And Gerald sat mute, like a dumb beast, panting, his teeth chattering, his arms inert, his head like a seal's head.
They came to the landing-stage.Wet and naked-looking, Gerald climbed up the few steps.There stood his father, in the night.
`Father!' he said.
`Yes my boy? Go home and get those things off.'
`We shan't save them, father,' said Gerald.
`There's hope yet, my boy.'
`I'm afraid not.There's no knowing where they are.You can't find them.
And there's a current, as cold as hell.'
`We'll let the water out,' said the father.`Go home you and look to yourself.See that he's looked after, Rupert,' he added in a neutral voice.
`Well father, I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm afraid it's my fault.But it can't be helped; I've done what I could for the moment.I could go on diving, of course -- not much, though -- and not much use --'
He moved away barefoot, on the planks of the platform.Then he trod on something sharp.
`Of course, you've got no shoes on,' said Birkin.
`His shoes are here!' cried Gudrun from below.She was making fast her boat.
Gerald waited for them to be brought to him.Gudrun came with them.
He pulled them on his feet.
`If you once die,' he said, `then when it's over, it's finished.Why come to life again? There's room under that water there for thousands.'
`Two is enough,' she said murmuring.
He dragged on his second shoe.He was shivering violently, and his jaw shook as he spoke.
`That's true,' he said, `maybe.But it's curious how much room there seems, a whole universe under there; and as cold as hell, you're as helpless as if your head was cut off.' He could scarcely speak, he shook so violently.
`There's one thing about our family, you know,' he continued.`Once anything goes wrong, it can never be put right again -- not with us.I've noticed it all my life -- you can't put a thing right, once it has gone wrong.'
They were walking across the high-road to the house.
`And do you know, when you are down there, it is so cold, actually, and so endless, so different really from what it is on top, so endless -- you wonder how it is so many are alive, why we're up here.Are you going?
I shall see you again, shan't I? Good-night, and thank you.Thank you very much!'
The two girls waited a while, to see if there were any hope.The moon shone clearly overhead, with almost impertinent brightness, the small dark boats clustered on the water, there were voices and subdued shouts.But it was all to no purpose.Gudrun went home when Birkin returned.
He was commissioned to open the sluice that let out the water from the lake, which was pierced at one end, near the high-road, thus serving as a reservoir to supply with water the distant mines, in case of necessity.
`Come with me,' he said to Ursula, `and then I will walk home with you, when I've done this.'