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And he was ready to go back to the Marsh。
Without knowing it； Anna was wanting him to e。 In him she
had escaped。 In him the bounds of her experience were
transgressed： he was the hole in the wall； beyond which the
sunshine blazed on an outside world。
He came。 Sometimes； not often； but sometimes； talking again；
there recurred the strange； remote reality which carried
everything before it。 Sometimes； he talked of his father； whom
he hated with a hatred that was burningly close to love； of his
mother； whom he loved； with a love that was keenly close to
hatred； or to revolt。 His sentences were clumsy； he was only
half articulate。 But he had the wonderful voice； that could ring
its vibration through the girl's soul； transport her into his
feeling。 Sometimes his voice was hot and declamatory； sometimes
it had a strange； twanging； almost catlike sound； sometimes it
hesitated； puzzled； sometimes there was the break of a little
laugh。 Anna was taken by him。 She loved the running flame that
coursed through her as she listened to him。 And his mother and
his father became to her two separate people in her life。
For some weeks the youth came frequently； and was received
gladly by them all。 He sat amongst them； his dark face glowing；
an eagerness and a touch of derisiveness on his wide mouth；
something grinning and twisted； his eyes always shining like a
bird's； utterly without depth。 There was no getting hold of the
fellow； Brangwen irritably thought。 He was like a grinning young
tomcat； that came when he thought he would； and without
cognizance of the other person。
At first the youth had looked towards Tom Brangwen when he
talked； and then he looked towards his aunt； for her
appreciation； valuing it more than his uncle's； and then he
turned to Anna； because from her he got what he wanted； which
was not in the elder people。
So that the two young people； from being always attendant on
the elder； began to draw apart and establish a separate kingdom。
Sometimes Tom Brangwen was irritated。 His nephew irritated him。
The lad seemed to him too special； selfcontained。 His nature
was fierce enough； but too much abstracted； like a separate
thing； like a cat's nature。 A cat could lie perfectly peacefully
on the hearthrug whilst its master or mistress writhed in agony
a yard away。 It had nothing to do with other people's affairs。
What did the lad really care about anything； save his own
instinctive affairs？
Brangwen was irritated。 Nevertheless he liked and respected
his nephew。 Mrs。 Brangwen was irritated by Anna； who was
suddenly changed； under the influence of the youth。 The mother
liked the boy： he was not quite an outsider。 But she did not
like her daughter to be so much under the spell。
So that gradually the two young people drew apart； escaped
from the elders； to create a new thing by themselves。 He worked
in the garden to propitiate his uncle。 He talked churches to
propitiate his aunt。 He followed Anna like a shadow： like a
long； persistent； unswerving black shadow he went after the
girl。 It irritated Brangwen exceedingly。 It exasperated him
beyond bearing； to see the litup grin； the catgrin as he
called it； on his nephew's face。
And Anna had a new reserve； a new independence。 Suddenly she
began to act independently of her parents； to live beyond them。
Her mother had flashes of anger。
But the courtship went on。 Anna would find occasion to go
shopping in Ilkeston at evening。 She always returned with her
cousin； he walking with his head over her shoulder； a little bit
behind her； like the Devil looking over Lincoln； as Brangwen
noted angrily and yet with satisfaction。
To his own wonder； Will Brangwen found himself in an electric
state of passion。 To his wonder； he had stopped her at the gate
as they came home from Ilkeston one night； and had kissed her；
blocking her way and kissing her whilst he felt as if some blow
were struck at him in the dark。 And when they went indoors； he
was acutely angry that her parents looked up scrutinizing at him
and her。 What right had they there： why should they look up！ Let
them remove themselves； or look elsewhere。
And the youth went home with the stars in heaven whirling
fiercely about the blackness of his head； and his heart fierce；
insistent； but fierce as if he felt something baulking him。 He
wanted to smash through something。
A spell was cast over her。 And how uneasy her parents were；
as she went about the house unnoticing； not noticing them；
moving in a spell as if she were invisible to them。 She was
invisible to them。 It made them angry。 Yet they had to submit。
She went about absorbed； obscured for a while。
Over him too the darkness of obscurity settled。 He seemed to
be hidden in a tense； electric darkness； in which his soul； his
life was intensely active； but without his aid or attention。 His
mind was obscured。 He worked swiftly and mechanically； and he
produced some beautiful things。
His favourite work was woodcarving。 The first thing he made
for her was a butterstamper。 In it he carved a mythological
bird； a phoenix； something like an eagle； rising on symmetrical
wings； from a circle of very beautiful flickering flames that
rose upwards from the rim of the cup。
Anna thought nothing of the gift on the evening when he gave
it to her。 In the morning； however； when the butter was made；
she fetched his seal in place of the old wooden stamper of
oakleaves and acorns。 She was curiously excited to see how it
would turn out。 Strange； the uncouth bird moulded there； in the
cuplike hollow； with curious； thick waverings running inwards
from a smooth rim。 She pressed another mould。 Strange； to lift
the stamp and see that eaglebeaked bird raising its breast to
her。 She loved creating it over and over again。 And every time
she looked； it seemed a new thing e to life。 Every piece of
butter became this strange； vital emblem。
She showed it to her mother and father。
〃That is beautiful；〃 said her mother； a little light ing
on to her face。
〃Beautiful！〃 exclaimed the father； puzzled； fretted。 〃Why；
what sort of a bird does he call it？〃
And this was the question put by the customers during the
next weeks。
〃What sort of a bird do you call that； as you've got
on th' butter？〃
When he came in the evening； she took him into the dairy to
show him。
〃Do you like it？〃 he asked； in his loud； vibrating voice that
always sounded strange； reechoing in the dark places of her
being。
They very rarely touched each other。 They liked to be alone
together； near to each other； but there was still a distance
between them。
In the cool dairy the candlelight lit on the large； white
surfaces of the cream pans。 He turned his head sharply。 It was
so cool and remote in there； so remote。 His mouth was open in a
little； strained laugh。 She stood with her head bent； turned
aside。 He wanted to go near to her。 He had kissed her once。
Again his eye rested on the round blocks of butter； where the
emblematic bird lifted its breast from the shadow cast by the
candle flame。 What was restraining him？ Her breast was near him；
his head lifted like an eagle's。 She did not move。 Suddenly；
ent； he put his arms
round her and drew her to him。 It was quick； cleanly done； like
a bird that swoops and sinks close； closer。
He was kissing her throat。 She turned and looked at him。 Her
eyes were dark and flowing with fire。 His eyes were hard and
bright with a fierce purpose and gladness； like a hawk's。 She
felt him flying into the dark space of her flames； like a brand；
like a gleaming hawk。
They had looked at each other； and seen each other strange；
yet near； very near； like a hawk stooping； swooping； dropping
into a flame of darkness。 So she took the candle and they went
back to the kitchen。
They went on in this way for some time； always ing
together； but rarely touching； very seldom did they kiss。 And
then； often； it was merely a touch of the lips； a sign。 But her
eyes began to waken with a constant fire； she paused often in
the midst of her transit； as if to recollect something； or to
discover something。
And his face became sombre； intent； he did not really hear
what was said to him。