Lawrence's engagement to Louie Burrows lasted from December 1910 till February 1912. It is documented mainly in Lawrence's side of their copious correspondence during the period of their betrothal, and in his letters to others, notably Jessie Chambers, Helen Corke and his sister Ada. From this three strong themes emerge. One is the fact that they cannot marry yet because of the lack of money and the consequent need for Lawrence to make more money out of his writing while continuing to teach. A second is the sexual frustration that Lawrence suffered as a consequence of this situation and Louie's refusal to countenance sex before marriage. A third is the continuing evidence that Lawrence was inwardly divided, and that he withheld something of himself from Louie.

As early as 23 December 1910, only three weeks after his proposal, he wrote to Louie, ‘As [I] hope for salvation, I hope for you, and a home with you. But I dream of my mother. You do not know. If I told you all, it would make you old, and I don't want you to be old’ (L1 212). He isn't confessing the disabling nature of his bond with his mother. He never seems to have confessed to Louie what he told to Jessie and even to Rachel Annand Taylor. But he is hinting at something more than grief, at a darkening of vision, entailing depression but more enduring than depression, that he suffered through his mother's illness and death. This darkening of vision belongs to the self who is a writer, and four days later he wrote to her in terms that should have rung alarm bells: ‘I am very much afraid indeed of disappointing you and causing you real grief for the first time in your life. It is the second me, the hard, cruel if need be, me that is the writer which troubles the pleasanter me, the human who belongs to you’ (L1 214). It is not so much the fear of hurting her that is ominous as the separation of the writer from the man who loves her. For all the pain that he caused Jessie, there was never any doubt that it was the writer who loved her.