inwardly the coarsely working nature of the mistress。 Therefore
she was always at outs with authority。 From constant telling；
she came almost to believe in her own badness； her own intrinsic
inferiority。 She felt that she ought always to be in a state of
slinking disgrace； if she fulfilled what was expected of her。
But she rebelled。 She never really believed in her own badness。
At the bottom of her heart she despised the other people； who
carped and were loud over trifles。 She despised them； and wanted
revenge on them。 She hated them whilst they had power over
her。
Still she kept an ideal： a free； proud lady absolved from the
petty ties； existing beyond petty considerations。 She would see
such ladies in pictures： Alexandra； Princess of Wales； was one
of her models。 This lady was proud and royal； and stepped
indifferently over all small； mean desires： so thought Anna； in
her heart。 And the girl did up her hair high under a little
slanting hat； her skirts were fashionably bunched up； she wore
an elegant； skin…fitting coat。
Her father was delighted。 Anna was very proud in her bearing；
too naturally indifferent to smaller bonds to satisfy Ilkeston；
which would have liked to put her down。 But Brangwen was having
no such thing。 If she chose to be royal； royal she should be。 He
stood like a rock between her and the world。
After the fashion of his family； he grew stout and handsome。
His blue eyes were full of light； twinkling and sensitive； his
manner was deliberate； but hearty； warm。 His capacity for living
his own life without attention from his neighbours made them
respect him。 They would run to do anything for him。 He did not
consider them； but was open…handed towards them； so they made
profit of their willingness。 He liked people； so long as they
remained in the background。
Mrs。 Brangwen went on in her own way； following her own
devices。 She had her husband； her two sons and Anna。 These
staked out and marked her horizon。 The other people were
outsiders。 Inside her own world； her life passed along like a
dream for her； it lapsed； and she lived within its lapse； active
and always pleased； intent。 She scarcely noticed the outer
things at all。 What was outside was outside； non…existent。 She
did not mind if the boys fought； so long as it was out of her
presence。 But if they fought when she was by； she was angry； and
they were afraid of her。 She did not care if they broke a window
of a railway carriage or sold their watches to have a revel at
the Goose Fair。 Brangwen was perhaps angry over these things。 To
the mother they were insignificant。 It was odd little things
that offended her。 She was furious if the boys hung around the
slaughter…house； she was displeased when the school reports were
bad。 It did not matter how many sins her boys were accused of；
so long as they were not stupid； or inferior。 If they seemed to
brook insult； she hated them。 And it was only a certain
gaucherie； a gawkiness on Anna's part that irritated her
against the girl。 Certain forms of clumsiness； grossness； made
the mother's eyes glow with curious rage。 Otherwise she was
pleased； indifferent。
Pursuing her splendid…lady ideal； Anna became a lofty
demoiselle of sixteen； plagued by family shortings。 She was
very sensitive to her father。 She knew if he had been drinking；
were he ever so little affected； and she could not bear it。 He
flushed when he drank； the veins stood out on his temples； there
was a twinkling； cavalier boisterousness in his eye； his manner
was jovially overbearing and mocking。 And it angered her。 When
she heard his loud； roaring； boisterous mockery； an anger of
resentment filled her。 She ； the
moment he came in。
〃You look a sight； you do； red in the face；〃 she cried。
〃I might look worse if I was green；〃 he answered。
〃Boozing in Ilkeston。〃
〃And what's wrong wi' Il'son？〃
She flounced away。 He watched her with amused； twinkling
eyes； yet in spite of himself said that she flouted him。
They were a curious family； a law to themselves； separate
from the world； isolated； a small republic set in invisible
bounds。 The mother was quite indifferent to Ilkeston and
Cossethay； to any claims made on her from outside； she was very
shy of any outsider； exceedingly courteous； winning even。 But
the moment the visitor had gone； she laughed and dismissed him；
he did not exist。 It had been all a game to her。 She was still a
foreigner； unsure of her ground。 But alone with her own children
and husband at the Marsh； she was mistress of a little native
land that lacked nothing。
She had some beliefs somewhere； never defined。 She had been
brought up a Roman Catholic。 She had gone to the Church of
England for protection。 The outward form was a matter of
indifference to her。 Yet she had some fundamental religion。 It
was as if she worshipped God as a mystery； never seeking in the
least to define what He was。
And inside her； the subtle sense of the Great Absolute
wherein she had her being was very strong。 The English dogma
never reached her： the language was too foreign。 Through it all
she felt the great Separator who held life in His hands；
gleaming； imminent； terrible； the Great Mystery； immediate
beyond all telling。
She shone and gleamed to the Mystery； Whom she knew through
all her senses； she glanced with strange； mystic superstitions
that never found expression in the English language； never
mounted to thought in English。 But so she lived； within a
potent； sensuous belief that included her family and contained
her destiny。
To this she had reduced her husband。 He existed with her
entirely indifferent to the general values of the world。 Her
very ways； the very mark of her eyebrows were symbols and
indication to him。 There； on the farm with her； he lived through
a mystery of life and death and creation； strange； profound
ecstasies and inmunicable satisfactions； of which the rest of
the world knew nothing； which made the pair of them apart and
respected in the English village； for they were also
well…to…do。
But Anna was only half safe within her mother's unthinking
knowledge。 She had a mother…of…pearl rosary that had been her
own father's。 What it meant to her she could never say。 But the
string of moonlight and silver； when she had it between her
fingers； filled her with strange passion。 She learned at school
a little Latin； she learned an Ave Maria and a Pater Noster； she
learned how to say her rosary。 But that was no good。 〃Ave Maria；
gratia plena； Dominus tecum； Benedicta tu in mulieribus et
benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus。 Ave Maria； Sancta Maria；
ora pro nobis peccatoribus； nunc et in hora mortis nostrae；
Amen。〃
It was not right； somehow。 What these words meant when
translated was not the same as the pale rosary meant。 There was
a discrepancy； a falsehood。 It irritated her to say； 〃Dominus
tecum；〃 or； 〃benedicta tu in mulieribus。〃 She loved the mystic
words； 〃Ave Maria； Sancta Maria；〃 she was moved by 〃benedictus
fructus ventris tui Jesus；〃 and by 〃nunc et in hora mortis
nostrae。〃 But none of it was quite real。 It was not
satisfactory； somehow。
She avoided her rosary； because； moving her with curious
passion as it did； it meant only these not very
significant things。 She put it away。 It was her instinct to put
all these things away。 It was her instinct to avoid thinking； to
avoid it； to save herself。
She was seventeen； touchy； full of spirits； and very moody：
quick to flush； and always uneasy； uncertain。 For some reason or
other； she turned more to her father； she felt almost flashes of
hatred for her mother。 Her mother's dark muzzle and curiously
insidious ways； her mother's utter surety and confidence； her
strange satisfaction； even triumph； her mother's way of laughing
at things and her mother's silent overriding of vexatious
propositions； most of all her mother's triumphant power maddened
the girl。
She became sudden and incalculable。 Often she stood at the
window； looking out； as if she wanted to go。 Sometimes she went；
she mixed with people。 But always she came home in anger； as if
she were diminished； belittled； almost degraded。
There was over the house a kind of dark silence and
intensity； in which passion worked its inevitable conclusions。
There was in the house a sort of richness； a deep； inarticulate
interchange which made other places seem thin and unsatisfying。
Brangwen could sit silent； smoking in his chair； the mother
could move about in her quiet； insidious way； and the sense of
the two presences was powerful； sustaining。 The whole
intercourse was wordless； intense and close。
But Anna was uneasy。 She wanted to get away。 Yet wherever she
went； there came upon her that feeling of thinness； as if she
were made smaller； belittled。 She hastened home。
There she raged and interrupted the strong； settled
interchange。 Sometimes her mother turned on her with a fierce；
destructive anger； in which was no pity or consideration。 And
Anna shrank； afraid。 She went to her father。
He would still listen to the spoken word； which fell sterile
on the unheeding mother。 Sometimes Anna talked to her father。
She tried to discuss people； she wanted to know what was meant。
But her father became uneasy。 He did not want to have things
dragged into consciousness。 Only out of consideration for her he
listened。 And there was a kind of bristling rousedness in the
room。 The cat got up and stretching itself； went uneasily to the
door。 Mrs。 Brangwen was silent； she seemed ominous。 Anna could
not go on with her fault…finding； her criticism； her expression
of dissatisfactions。 She felt even her father against her。 He
had a strong； dark bond with her mother； a potent intimacy that
existed inarticulate and wild； following its own course； and
savage if interrupted； uncovered。
Nevertheless Brangwen was uneasy about the girl； the whole
house continued to be disturbed。 She had a pathetic； baffled
appeal。 She was hostile to her parents； even whilst she lived
entirely with them； within their spell。
Many ways she tried； of escape。 She became an assiduous
church…goer。 But the language meant nothing to her： it
seemed false。 She hated to hear things expressed； put into
words。 Whilst the religious feelings were inside her they were
passionately moving。 In the mouth of the clergyman； they were
false； indecent。 She tried to read。 But again the tedium and the
sense of the falsity of the spoken word put her off。 She went to
stay with girl friends。 At first she thought it splendid。 But
then the inner boredom came on； it seemed to her all
nothingness。 And she felt always belittled； as if never； never
could she stretch her length and stride her stride。
Her mind reverted often to the torture cell of a certain
Bishop of France； in which the victim could neither stand nor
lie stretched out； never。 Not that she thought of herself in any
connection with this。 But often there came into her mind the
wonder； how the cell was built； and she could feel the horror of
the crampedness； as something very real。
She was； however； only eighteen when a letter came from Mrs。
Alfred Brangwen； in Nottingham； saying that her son William was
ing to Ilkeston to take a place as junior draughtsman；
scar