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noisily into the house； which seemed quiet and peaceful till he
appeared to set everything awake。
〃Now then； Topsy； pop into thy bon。〃
The child drew herself up； resenting the indignity of the
address。
〃I can't fasten my bon 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 brightred lips moved
as he fumbled under her chin。
〃You talknonsents；〃 she said； reechoing 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 faceit'll
pass wi' a catlick。〃
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 buckrabbit；〃 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 tiptoe 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 hayharvest； 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
cornharvest 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
hedgebottom； 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 cowsheds； 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
teatime； 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 painwell； 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 to insist
on being miserable。 He was happy； this morning； driving to town；
with the hoofs of the horse spanking the hard earth。 Well he was
happy； if half the world were weeping at the funeral of the
other half。 And it was a jolly girl sitting beside him。 And
Woman was immortal； whatever happened； whoever turned towards
death。 Let the misery e when it could not be resisted。
The evening arrived later very beautiful； with a rosy flush
hovering above the sunset； and passing away into violet and
lavender； with turquoise green north and south in the sky； and
in the east； a great； yellow moon hanging heavy and radiant。 It
was magnificent to walk between the sunset and the moon； on a
road where little holly trees thrust black into the rose and
lavender； and starlings flickered in droves across the light。
But what was the end of the journey？ The pain came right enough；
later on； when his heart and his feet were heavy； his brain
dead； his life stopped。
One afternoon； the pains began； Mrs。 Brangwen was put to bed；
the midwife came。 Night fell； the shutters were closed； Brangwen
came in to tea； to the loaf and the pewter teapot； the child；
silent and quivering； playing with glass beads； the house；
empty； it seemed； or exposed to the winter night； as if it had
no walls。
Sometimes there sounded； long and remote in the house；
vibrating through everything； the moaning cry of a woman in
labour。 Brangwen； sitting downstairs； was divided。 His lower；
deeper self was with her； bound to her； suffering。 But the big
she