Wragby is virtually abandoned now. Clifford has withdrawn into his mining plans, listening to the radio, and talking with Mrs. Bolton. He maintains a sort of fearful worship of Connie, who increasingly despises him. With springtime, and the resurrection of the forest, Connie's misery seems all the harsher. She goes more and more to the hut in the woods where Mellors, the gamekeeper, is breeding pheasants to hunt. One day, in a spasm of hopeless tenderness for the young chicks, she has a breakdown at the hut. Mellors is there to comfort her; as he does so, his physical desire for her grows. She is mute and unresisting as he takes her into the hut and sleeps with her, but she stays separate from him in her mind, receiving no pleasure from the sex. They leave each other, and Mellors--now torn from his solitude--muses about the importance of desire and tenderness, and the evils of the mechanized industrial world. For her part, Connie is confused: she knows that she does not love Mellors, but is happy that he has been kind not to her personality--to her mind and intellect, which she is coming to believe are meaningless--but to "the female in her."
The next day, they meet once again at the hut. Reverting to his Derbyshire dialect, he asks her whether she is not worried that people will find out about her affair with a commoner, but she throws caution to the wind; they have sex again. Mellors deeply and sensually appreciates her body, but again she remains distant; during sex, she notices only how ridiculous his thrusting buttocks look.
For several days after, Connie does not go to meet Mellors in the cabin. Instead, one afternoon she takes tea with a friend of hers, Mrs. Flint, who has a newborn baby. Leaving tea, she runs into Mellors in the woods. Although she says she does not want to have sex, he lays her down on the forest floor, and she complies. This time, she has an orgasm simultaneous with his second orgasm, and the impact on her is profound. She feels that her body has awakened to him, that she adores him with all of her physical being. She spends that night in the company of Clifford, but the bond between them has been irrevocably broken. She is in a dreamworld, truly conscious only of the warmth inside of her. Clifford, on the other hand, is empty inside, beginning now to resent the distance between them.
That night, Mellors cannot sleep; he replays his life in his mind. On a late-night walk through the woods, he recalls his years as a soldier in India, and his unhappy marriage to Bertha Coutts. He reflects on the difficulty of his position: entanglement with Connie will be emotionally taxing, and will create any number of logistical difficulties. Where will they go? How will they live? He reflects also on his own loneliness, and realizes that loneliness is fundamental to the human condition. Standing outside Wragby in the darkness, thinking of Connie, he is seen by Mrs. Bolton, who--having guessed earlier by Connie's actions that she was having an affair--realizes that Mellors must be the man.
This is the--no pun intended--climactic chapter in Lady Chatterley's Lover. It is here that Connie's sexual awakening begins, catalyzed by her powerful and revelatory orgasm on the forest floor. It is worth spending some time discussing the nature of her revelation, and the way in which this becomes the basis of the relationship between her and Mellors.
What should be noted first is that the novel's approach to the significance of sex and sexual relationships is quite vague. At times, it is almost opaque. This owes something to Lawrence's difficulty or reticence in clearly describing sexual scenes. In its time, Lady Chatterley's Lover was considered radically graphic; the difficulty with Lawrence's depiction of sex scenes is not quite a failure of graphic description, but rather a tendency towards the obscure and mystical. Thus, during the first sex scene between Mellors and Connie, Lawrence refers to Mellors entering "the peace on earth of her soft, quiescent body." In a novel that appears to flaunt its bold contempt for euphemisms, this is a strange euphemism, to say the least. The reader will also recall Lawrence's contortions when trying to describe Connie's naked body at the beginning of chapter seven; I, at least, have no idea what "glimpsey" thighs or "meaningful" breasts look like.