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 with her
eyes bent。〃
Then gradually she accepted Tilly as belonging to the
household； never as a person。
For the first weeks； the black eyes of the child were for
ever on the watch。 Brangwen； good…humoured but impatient；
spoiled by Tilly； was an easy blusterer。 If for a few minutes he
upset the household with his noisy impatience； he found at the
end the child glowering at him with intense black eyes； and she
was sure to dart forward her little head； like a serpent； with
her biting：
〃Go away。〃
〃I'm not going away；〃 he shouted； irritated at last。
〃Go yourself……hustle……stir thysen……hop。〃 And he
pointed to the door。 The child backed away from him； pale with
fear。 Then she gathered up courage； seeing him bee
patient。
〃We don't live with you；〃 she said； thrusting forward
her little head at him。 〃You……you're……you're a
bomakle。〃
〃A what？〃 he shouted。
Her voice wavered……but it came。
〃A bomakle。〃
〃Ay； an' you're a akle。〃
She meditated。 Then she hissed forwards her head。
〃I'm not。〃
〃Not what？〃
〃A akle。〃
〃No more am I a bomakle。〃
He was really cross。
Other times she would say：
〃My mother doesn't live here。〃
〃Oh； ay？〃
〃I want her to go away。〃
〃Then want's your portion；〃 he replied laconically。
So they drew nearer together。 He would take her with him when
he went out in the trap。 The horse ready at the gate； he came
noisily into the house； which seemed quiet and peaceful till he
appeared to set everything awake。
〃Now then； Topsy； pop into thy bonnet。〃
The child drew herself up； resenting the indignity of the
address。
〃I can't fasten my bonnet myself；〃 she said haughtily。
〃Not man enough yet；〃 he said； tying the ribbons under her
chin with clumsy fingers。
She held up her face to him。 Her little bright…red lips moved
as he fumbled under her chin。
〃You talk……nonsents；〃 she said； re…echoing one of his
phrases。
〃That face shouts for th' pump；〃 he said； and taking
out a big red handkerchief； that smelled of strong tobacco；
began wiping round her mouth。
〃Is Kitty waiting for me？〃 she asked。
〃Ay；〃 he said。 〃Let's finish wiping your face……it'll
pass wi' a cat…lick。〃
She submitted prettily。 Then； when he let her go； she began
to skip； with a curious flicking up of one leg behind her。
〃Now my young buck…rabbit；〃 he said。 〃Slippy！〃
She came and was shaken into her coat； and the two set off。
She sat very close beside him in the gig； tucked tightly；
feeling his big body sway； against her； very splendid。 She loved
the rocking of the gig； when his big； live body swayed upon her；
against her。 She laughed； a poignant little shrill laugh； and
her black eyes glowed。
She was curiously hard； and then passionately tenderhearted。
Her mother was ill； the child stole about on tip…toe in the
bedroom for hours； being nurse； and doing the thing thoughtfully
and diligently。 Another day； her mother was unhappy。 Anna would
stand with her legs apart； glowering； balancing on the sides of
her slippers。 She laughed when the goslings wriggled in Tilly's
hand； as the pellets of food were rammed down their throats with
a skewer； she laughed nervously。 She was hard and imperious with
the animals； squandering no love； running about amongst them
like a cruel mistress。
Summer came； and hay…harvest； Anna was a brown elfish mite
dancing about。 Tilly always marvelled over her； more than she
loved her。
But always in the child was some anxious connection with the
mother。 So long as Mrs。 Brangwen was all right； the little girl
played about and took very little notice of her。 But
corn…harvest went by； the autumn drew on； and the mother； the
later months of her pregnancy beginning； was strange and
detached； Brangwen began to knit his brows； the old； unhealthy
uneasiness； the unskinned susceptibility came on the child
again。 If she went to the fields with her father； then； instead
of playing about carelessly； it was：
〃I want to go home。〃
〃Home； why tha's nobbut this minute e。〃
〃I want to go home。〃
〃What for？ What ails thee？〃
〃I want my mother。〃
〃Thy mother！ Thy mother none wants thee。〃
〃I want to go home。〃
There would be tears in a moment。
〃Can ter find t'road； then？〃
And he watched her scudding； silent and intent； along the
hedge…bottom； at a steady； anxious pace； till she turned and was
gone through the gateway。 Then he saw her two fields off； still
pressing forward； small and urgent。 His face was clouded as he
turned to plough up the stubble。
The year drew on； in the hedges the berries shone red and
twinkling above bare twigs； robins were seen； great droves of
birds dashed like spray from the fallow； rooks appeared； black
and flapping down to earth； the ground was cold as he pulled the
turnips； the roads were churned deep in mud。 Then the turnips
were pitted and work was slack。
Inside the house it was dark； and quiet。 The child flitted
uneasily round； and now and again came her plaintive； startled
cry：
〃Mother！〃
Mrs。 Brangwen was heavy and unresponsive； tired； lapsed back。
Brangwen went on working out of doors。
At evening； when he came in to milk； the child would run
behind him。 Then； in the cosy cow…sheds； with the doors shut and
the air looking warm by the light of the hanging lantern； above
the branching horns of the cows； she would stand watching his
hands squeezing rhythmically the teats of the placid beast；
watch the froth and the leaping squirt of milk； watch his hand
sometimes rubbing slowly； understandingly； upon a hanging udder。
So they kept each other pany； but at a distance； rarely
speaking。
The darkest days of the year came on； the child was fretful；
sighing as if some oppression were on her； running hither and
thither without relief。 And Brangwen went about at his work；
heavy； his heart heavy as the sodden earth。
The winter nights fell early； the lamp was lighted before
tea…time； the shutters were closed； they were all shut into the
room with the tension and stress。 Mrs。 Brangwen went early to
bed； Anna playing on the floor beside her。 Brangwen sat in the
emptiness of the downstairs room； smoking； scarcely conscious
even of his own misery。 And very often he went out to escape
it。
Christmas passed； the wet； drenched； cold days of January
recurred monotonously； with now and then a brilliance of blue
flashing in； when Brangwen went out into a morning like crystal；
when every sound rang again； and the birds were many and sudden
and brusque in the hedges。 Then an elation came over him in
spite of everything； whether his wife were strange or sad； or
whether he craved for her to be with him； it did not matter； the
air rang with clear noises； the sky was like crystal； like a
bell； and the earth was hard。 Then he worked and was happy； his
eyes shining； his cheeks flushed。 And the zest of life was
strong in him。
The birds pecked busily round him； the horses were fresh and
ready； the bare branches of the trees flung themselves up like a
man yawning； taut with energy； the twigs radiated off into the
clear light。 He was alive and full of zest for it all。 And if
his wife were heavy； separated from him； extinguished； then； let
her be； let him remain himself。 Things would be as they would
be。 Meanwhile he heard the ringing crow of a cockerel in the
distance； he saw the pale shell of the moon effaced on a blue
sky。
So he shouted to the horses； and was happy。 If； driving into
Ilkeston； a fresh young woman were going in to do her shopping；
he hailed her； and reined in his horse； and picked her up。 Then
he was glad to have her near him； his eyes shone； his voice；
laughing； teasing in a warm fashion； made the poise of her head
more beautiful； her blood ran quicker。 They were both
stimulated； the morning was fine。
What did it matter that； at the bottom of his heart； was care
and pain？ It was at the bottom； let it stop at the bottom。 His
wife； her suffering； her ing pain……well； it must be so。
She suffered； but he was out of doors； full in life； and it
would be ridiculous； indecent； to pull a long face and