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sat with every nerve； every vein； every fibre of muscle in his
body stretched on a tension。 He felt like a broken arch thrust
sickeningly out from support。 For her response was gone； he
thrust at nothing。 And he remained himself； he saved himself
from crashing down into nothingness； from being squandered into
fragments； by sheer tension； sheer backward resistance。
During the last months of her pregnancy； he went about in a
surcharged； imminent state that did not exhaust itself。 She was
also depressed； and sometimes she cried。 It needed so much life
to begin afresh； after she had lost so lavishly。 Sometimes she
cried。 Then he stood stiff； feeling his heart would burst。 For
she did not want him； she did not want even to be made aware of
him。 By the very puckering of her face he knew that he must
stand back； leave her intact； alone。 For it was the old grief
e back in her； the old loss； the pain of the old life； the
dead husband； the dead children。 This was sacred to her； and he
must not violate her with his fort。 For what she wanted she
would e to him。 He stood aloof with turgid heart。
He had to see her tears e； fall over her scarcely moving
face； that only puckered sometimes； down on to her breast； that
was so still； scarcely moving。 And there was no noise； save now
and again； when； with a strange； somnambulant movement； she took
her handkerchief and wiped her face and blew her nose； and went
on with the noiseless weeping。 He knew that any offer of fort
from himself would be worse than useless； hateful to her；
jangling her。 She must cry。 But it drove him insane。 His heart
was scalded； his brain hurt in his head； he went away； out of
the house。
His great and chiefest source of solace was the child。 She
had been at first aloof from him； reserved。 However friendly she
might seem one day； the next she would have lapsed to her
original disregard of him； cold； detached； at her distance。
The first morning after his marriage he had discovered it
would not be so easy with the child。 At the break of dawn he had
started awake hearing a small voice outside the door saying
plaintively：
〃Mother！〃
He rose and opened the door。 She stood on the threshold in
her night…dress； as she had climbed out of bed； black eyes
staring round and hostile； her fair hair sticking out in a wild
fleece。 The man and child confronted each other。
〃I want my mother；〃 she said； jealously accenting the
〃my〃。
〃e on then；〃 he said gently。
〃Where's my mother？〃
〃She's here……e on。〃
The child's eyes； staring at the man with ruffled hair and
beard； did not change。 The mother's voice called softly。 The
little bare feet entered the room with trepidation。
〃Mother！〃
〃e； my dear。〃
The small bare feet approached swiftly。
〃I wondered where you were；〃 came the plaintive voice。 The
mother stretched out her arms。 The child stood beside the high
bed。 Brangwen lightly lifted the tiny girl； with an
〃up…a…daisy〃； then took his own place in the bed again。
〃Mother！〃 cried the child； as in anguish。
〃What； my pet？〃
Anna wriggled close into her mother's arms； clinging tight；
hiding from the fact of the man。 Brangwen lay still； and waited。
There was a long silence。
Then suddenly； Anna looked round； as if she thought he would
be gone。 She saw the face of the man lying upturned to the
ceiling。 Her black eyes stared antagonistic from her exquisite
face； her arms clung tightly to her mother； afraid。 He did not
move for some time； not knowing what to say。 His face was smooth
and soft…skinned with love； his eyes full of soft light。 He
looked at her； scarcely moving his head； his eyes smiling。
〃Have you just wakened up？〃 he said。
〃Go away；〃 she retorted； with a little darting forward of the
head； something like a viper。
〃Nay；〃 he answered； 〃I'm not going。 You can go。〃
〃Go away；〃 came the sharp little mand。
〃There's room for you；〃 he said。
〃You can't send your father from his own bed； my little
bird；〃 said her mother； pleasantly。
The child glowered at him； miserable in her impotence。
〃There's room for you as well；〃 he said。 〃It's a big bed
enough。〃
She glowered without answering； then turned and clung to her
mother。 She would not allow it。
During the day she asked her mother several times：
〃When are we going home； mother？〃
〃We are at home； darling； we live here now。 This is our
house； we live here with your father。〃
The child was forced to accept it。 But she remained against
the man。 As night came on； she asked：
〃Where are you going to sleep； mother？〃
〃I sleep with the father now。〃
And when Brangwen came in； the child asked fiercely：
〃Why do you sleep with my mother？ My mother
sleeps with me；〃 her voice quivering。
〃You e as well； an' sleep with both of us；〃 he coaxed。
〃Mother！〃 she cried； turning； appealing against him。
〃But I must have a husband； darling。 All women must have a
husband。〃
〃And you like to have a father with your mother； don't you？〃
said Brangwen。
Anna glowered at him。 She seemed to cogitate。
〃No；〃 she cried fiercely at length； 〃no； I don't
want。〃 And slowly her face puckered； she sobbed bitterly。
He stood and watched her； sorry。 But there could be no altering
it。
Which； when she knew； she became quiet。 He was easy with her；
talking to her； taking her to see the live creatures； bringing
her the first chickens in his cap； taking her to gather the
eggs； letting her throw crusts to the horse。 She would easily
acpany him； and take all he had to give； but she remained
neutral still。
She was curiously； inprehensibly jealous of her mother；
always anxiously concerned about her。 If Brangwen drove with his
wife to Nottingham； Anna ran about happily enough； or
unconcerned； for a long time。 Then； as afternoon came on； there
was only one cry……〃I want my mother； I want my
mother〃 and a bitter； pathetic sobbing that soon
had the soft…hearted Tilly sobbing too。 The child's anguish was
that her mother was gone； gone。
Yet as a rule； Anna seemed cold； resenting her mother；
critical of her。 It was：
〃I don't like you to do that； mother；〃 or； 〃I don't like you
to say that。〃 She was a sore problem to Brangwen and to all the
people at the Marsh。 As a rule； however； she was active； lightly
flitting about the farmyard； only appearing now and again to
assure herself of her mother。 Happy she never seemed； but quick；
sharp； absorbed； full of imagination and changeability。 Tilly
said she was bewitched。 But it did not matter so long as she did
not cry。 There was something heart…rending about Anna's crying；
her childish anguish seemed so utter and so timeless； as if it
were a thing of all the ages。
She made playmates of the creatures of the farmyard； talking
to them； telling them the stories she had from her mother；
counselling them and correcting them。 Brangwen found her at the
gate leading to the paddock and to the duckpond。 She was peering
through the bars and shouting to the stately white geese； that
stood in a curving line：
〃You're not to call at people when they want to e。 You
must not do it。〃
The heavy； balanced birds looked at the fierce little face
and the fleece of keen hair thrust between the bars； and they
raised their heads and swayed off； producing the long；
can…canking； protesting noise of geese； rocking their ship…like；
beautiful white bodies in a line beyond the gate。
〃You're naughty； you're naughty；〃 cried Anna； tears of dismay
and vexation in her eyes。 And she stamped her slipper。
〃Why； what are they doing？〃 said Brangwen。
〃They won't let me e in；〃 she said； turning her flushed
little face to him。
〃Yi； they will。 You can go in if you want to；〃 and he pushed
open the gate for her。
She stood irresolute； looking at the group of bluey…white
geese standing monumental under the grey； cold day。
〃Go on；〃 he said。
She marched valiantly a few steps in。 Her little body started
convulsively at the sudden； derisive can…cank…ank of the geese。
A blankness spread over her。 The geese trailed away with
uplifted heads under the low grey sky。
〃They don't know you；〃 said Brangwen。 〃You should tell 'em
what your name is。〃
〃They're naughty to shout at me；〃 she flashed。
〃They think you don't live here；〃 he said。
Later he found her at the gate calling shrilly and
imperiously：
〃My name is Anna； Anna Lensky； and I live here； because Mr。
Brangwen's my father now。 He is； yes he is。 And I
live here。〃
This pleased Brangwen very much。 And gradually； without
knowing it herself； she clung to him； in her lost； childish；
desolate moments； when it was good to creep up to something big
and warm； and bury her little self in his big； unlimited being。
Instinctively he was careful of her； careful to recognize her
and to give himself to her disposal。
She was difficult of her affections。 For Tilly； she had a
childish； essential contempt； almost dislike； because the poor
woman was such a servant。 The child would not let the
serving…woman attend to her； do intimate things for her； not for
a long time。 She treated her as one of an inferior race。
Brangwen did not like it。
〃Why aren't you fond of Tilly？〃 he asked。
〃Because……because……because she looks at me wi