let the wind whisk her over the field to the big gate； whence
she could watch him go。
He went up the hill and on towards the vicarage； the wind
roaring through the hedges； whilst he tried to shelter his bunch
of daffodils by his side。 He did not think of anything； only
knew that the wind was blowing。
Night was falling； the bare trees drummed and whistled。 The
vicar； he knew； would be in his study； the Polish woman in the
kitchen； a fortable room； with her child。 In the darkest of
twilight； he went through the gate and down the path where a few
daffodils stooped in the wind； and shattered crocuses made a
pale； colourless ravel。
There was a light streaming on to the bushes at the back from
the kitchen window。 He began to hesitate。 How could he do this？
Looking through the window； he saw her seated in the
rocking…chair with the child； already in its nightdress； sitting
on her knee。 The fair head with its wild； fierce hair was
drooping towards the fire…warmth； which reflected on the bright
cheeks and clear skin of the child； who seemed to be musing；
almost like a grown…up person。 The mother's face was dark and
still； and he saw； with a pang； that she was away back in the
life that had been。 The child's hair gleamed like spun glass；
her face was illuminated till it seemed like wax lit up from the
inside。 The wind boomed strongly。 Mother and child sat
motionless； silent； the child staring with vacant dark eyes into
the fire； the mother looking into space。 The little girl was
almost asleep。 It was her will which kept her eyes so wide。
Suddenly she looked round； troubled； as the wind shook the
house； and Brangwen saw the small lips move。 The mother began to
rock； he heard the slight crunch of the rockers of the chair。
Then he heard the low； monotonous murmur of a song in a foreign
language。 Then a great burst of wind； the mother seemed to have
drifted away； the child's eyes were black and dilated。 Brangwen
looked up at the clouds which packed in great； alarming haste
across the dark sky。
Then there came the child's high； plaining； yet imperative
voice：
〃Don't sing that stuff； mother； I don't want to hear it。〃
The singing died away。
〃You will go to bed；〃 said the mother。
He saw the clinging protest of the child； the unmoved
farawayness of the mother； the clinging； grasping effort of the
child。 Then suddenly the clear childish challenge：
〃I want you to tell me a story。〃
The wind blew； the story began； the child nestled against the
mother； Brangwen waited outside； suspended； looking at the wild
waving of the trees in the wind and the gathering darkness。 He
had his fate to follow； he lingered there at the threshold。
The child crouched distinct and motionless； curled in against
her mother； the eyes dark and unblinking among the keen wisps of
hair； like a curled…up animal asleep but for the eyes。 The
mother sat as if in shadow； the story went on as if by itself。
Brangwen stood outside seeing the night fall。 He did not notice
the passage of time。 The hand that held the daffodils was fixed
and cold。
The story came to an end； the mother rose at last； with the
child clinging round her neck。 She must be strong； to carry so
large a child so easily。 The little Anna clung round her
mother's neck。 The fair； strange face of the child looked over
the shoulder of the mother； all asleep but the eyes； and these；
wide and dark； kept up the resistance and the fight with
something unseen。
When they were gone； Brangwen stirred for the first time from
the place where he stood； and looked round at the night。 He
wished it were really as beautiful and familiar as it seemed in
these few moments of release。 Along with the child； he felt a
curious strain on him； a suffering； like a fate。
The mother came down again； and began folding the child's
clothes。 He knocked。 She opened wondering； a little bit at bay；
like a foreigner； uneasy。
〃Good evening；〃 he said。 〃I'll just e in a minute。〃
A change went quickly over her face； she was unprepared。 She
looked down at him as he stood in the light from the window；
holding the daffodils； the darkness behind。 In his black clothes
she again did not know him。 She was almost afraid。
But he was already stepping on to the threshold； and closing
the door behind him。 She turned into the kitchen； startled out
of herself by this invasion from the night。 He took off his hat；
and came towards her。 Then he stood in the light； in his black
clothes and his black stock； hat in one hand and yellow flowers
in the other。 She stood away； at his mercy； snatched out of
herself。 She did not know him； only she knew he was a man e
for her。 She could only see the dark…clad man's figure standing
there upon her； and the gripped fist of flowers。 She could not
see the face and the living eyes。
He was watching her； without knowing her； only aware
underneath of her presence。
〃I e to have a word with you；〃 he said； striding forward
to the table； laying down his hat and the flowers； which tumbled
apart and lay in a loose heap。 She had flinched from his
advance。 She had no will； no being。 The wind boomed in the
chimney； and he waited。 He had disembarrassed his hands。 Now he
shut his fists。
He was aware of her standing there unknown； dread； yet
related to him。
〃I came up；〃 he said； speaking curiously matter…of…fact and
level； 〃to ask if you'd marry me。 You are free； aren't you？〃
There was a long silence； whilst his blue eyes； strangely
impersonal； looked into her eyes to seek an answer to the truth。
He was looking for the truth out of her。 And she； as if
hypnotized； must answer at length。
〃Yes； I am free to marry。〃
The expression of his eyes changed； became less impersonal；
as if he were looking almost at her； for the truth of her。
Steady and intent and eternal they were； as if they would never
change。 They seemed to fix and to resolve her。 She quivered；
feeling herself created； will…less； lapsing into him； into a
mon will with him。
〃You want me？〃 she said。
A pallor came over his face。
〃Yes；〃 he said。
Still there was no response and silence。
〃No；〃 she said； not of herself。 〃No； I don't know。〃
He felt the tension breaking up in him； his fists slackened；
he was unable to move。 He stood there looking at her； helpless
in his vague collapse。 For the moment she had bee unreal to
him。 Then he saw her e to him； curiously direct and as if
without movement； in a sudden flow。 She put her hand to his
coat。
〃Yes I want to；〃 she said； impersonally； looking at him with
wide； candid； newly…opened eyes； opened now with supreme truth。
He went very white as he stood； and did not move； only his eyes
were held by hers； and he suffered。 She seemed to see him with
her newly…opened； wide eyes； almost of a child； and with a
strange movement； that was agony to him； she reached slowly
forward her dark face and her breast to him； with a slow
insinuation of a kiss that made something break in his brain；
and it was darkness over him for a few moments。
He had her in his arms； and； obliterated； was kissing her。
And it was sheer； bleached agony to him； to break away from
himself。 She was there so small and light and accepting in his
arms； like a child； and yet with such an insinuation of embrace；
of infinite embrace； that he could not bear it； he could not
stand。
He turned and looked for a chair； and keeping her still in
his arms； sat down with her close to him； to his breast。 Then；
for a few seconds； he went utterly to sleep； asleep and sealed
in the darkest sleep； utter； extreme oblivion。
From which he came to gradually； always holding her warm and
close upon him； and she as utterly silent as he； involved in the
same oblivion； the fecund darkness。
He returned gradually； but newly created； as after a
gestation； a new birth； in the womb of darkness。 Aerial and
light everything was； new as a morning； fresh and newly…begun。
Like a dawn the newness and the bliss filled in。 And she sat
utterly still with him； as if in the same。
Then she looked up at him； the wide； young eyes blazing with
light。 And he bent down and kissed her on the lips。 And the dawn
blazed in them； their new life came to pass； it was beyond all
conceiving good； it was so good； that it was almost like a
passing…away； a trespass。 He drew her suddenly closer to
him。
For soon the light began to fade in her； gradually； and as
she was in his arms； her head sank； she leaned it against him；
and lay still； with sunk head； a little tired； effaced because
she was tired。 And in her tiredness was a certain negation of
him。
〃There is the child；〃 she said； out of the long silence。
He did not understand。 It was a long time since he had heard
a voice。 Now also he heard the wind roaring； as if it had just
begun again。
〃Yes；〃 he said； not understanding。 There was a slight
contraction of pain at his heart； a slight tension on his brows。
Something he wanted to grasp and could not。
〃You will love her？〃 she said。
The quick contraction； like pain； went over him again。
〃I love her now；〃 he said。
She lay still against him； taking his physical warmth without
heed。 It was great confirmation for him to feel her there；
absorbing the warmth from him； giving him back her weight and
her strange confidence。 But where was she； that she seemed so
absent？ His mind was open with wonder。 He did not know her。
〃But I am much older than you；〃 she said。
〃How old？〃 he asked。
〃I am thirty…four；〃 she said。
〃I am twenty…eight；〃 he said。
〃Six years。〃
She was oddly concerned； even as if it pleased her a little。
He sat and listened and wondered。 It was rather splendid； to be
so ignored by her； whilst she lay against him； and he lifted her
with his breathing； and felt her weight upon his living； so he
had a pleteness and an inviolable power。 He did not interfere
with her。 He did not even know her。 It was so strange that she
lay there with her weight abandoned upon him。 He was silent with
delight。 He felt strong； physically； carrying her on his
breathing。 The strange； inviolable pleteness of the two of
them made him feel as sure and as stable as God。 Amused； he
wondered what the vicar would say if he knew。
〃You needn't stop here much longer； housekeeping；〃 he
said。
〃I like it also； here；〃 she said。 〃When one has been in many
places； it is very nice here。〃
He was silent again at this。 So close on him she lay； and yet
she answered him from so far away。 But he did not mind。
〃What was your own home like； when you were little？〃 he
asked。
〃My father was a landowner；〃 she replied。 〃It was near a
river。〃
This did not convey much to him。 All was as vague as before。
But he did not care； whilst she was so close。
〃I am a landowner……a little one；〃 he said。
〃Yes；〃 she said。
He had not dared to move。 He sat there with his arms round
her； her lying motionless on his breathing； and for a long time
he did not stir。 Then softly； timidly； his hand settled on the
roundness of her arm； on the unknown。 She seemed to lie a little
closer。 A hot flame licked up from his belly to his chest。
But it was too soon。 She rose； and went across the room to a
drawer； taking out a little tray…cloth。 There was som