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And when he came home at night； his heart relenting and
growing hot for love of her； when he was just ready to feel he
had been wrong； and when he was expecting her to feel the same；
there she sat at the sewingmachine； the whole house was covered
with clipped calico； the kettle was not even on the fire。
She started up； affecting concern。
〃Is it so late？〃 she cried。
But his face had gone stiff with rage。 He walked through to
the parlour； then he walked back and out of the house again。 Her
heart sank。 Very swiftly she began to make his tea。
He went blackhearted down the road to Ilkeston。 When he was
in this state he never thought。 A bolt shot across the doors of
his mind and shut him in； a prisoner。 He went back to Ilkeston；
and drank a glass of beer。 What was he going to do？ He did not
want to see anybody。
He would go to Nottingham； to his own town。 He went to the
station and took a train。 When he got to Nottingham； still he
had nowhere to go。 However； it was more agreeable to walk
familiar streets。 He paced them with a mad restlessness； as if
he were running amok。 Then he turned to a bookshop and found a
book on Bamberg Cathedral。 Here was a discovery！ here was
something for him！ He went into a quiet restaurant to look at
his treasure。 He lit up with thrills of bliss as he turned from
picture to picture。 He had found something at last； in these
carvings。 His soul had great satisfaction。 Had he not e out
to seek； and had he not found！ He was in a passion of
fulfilment。 These were the finest carvings； statues； he had ever
seen。 The book lay in his hands like a doorway。 The world around
was only an enclosure； a room。 But he was going away。 He
lingered over the lovely statues of women。 A marvellous；
finelywrought universe crystallized out around him as he looked
again； at the crowns； the twining hair； the womanfaces。 He
liked all the better the unintelligible text of the German。 He
preferred things he could not understand with the mind。 He loved
the undiscovered and the undiscoverable。 He pored over the
pictures intensely。 And these were wooden statues；
〃Holz〃he believed that meant wood。 Wooden statues so
shapen to his soul！ He was a million times gladdened。 How
undiscovered the world was； how it revealed itself to his soul！
What a fine； exciting thing his life was； at his hand！ Did not
Bamberg Cathedral make the world his own？ He celebrated his
triumphant strength and life and verity； and embraced the vast
riches he was inheriting。
But it was about time to go home。 He had better catch a
train。 All the time there was a steady bruise at the bottom of
his soul； but so steady as to be fettable。 He caught a train
for Ilkeston。
It was ten o'clock as he was mounting the hill to Cossethay；
carrying his limp book on Bamberg Cathedral。 He had not yet
thought of Anna； not definitely。 The dark finger pressing a
bruise controlled him thoughtlessly。
Anna had started guiltily when he left the house。 She had
hastened preparing the tea； hoping he would e back。 She had
made some toast； and got all ready。 Then he didn't e。 She
cried with vexation and disappointment。 Why had he gone？ Why
couldn't he e back now？ Why was it such a battle between
them？ She loved himshe did love himwhy couldn't he
be kinder to her； nicer to her？
She waited in distressthen her mood grew harder。 He
passed out of her thoughts。 She had considered indignantly； what
right he had to interfere with her sewing？ She had indignantly
refuted his right to interfere with her at all。 She was not to
be interfered with。 Was she not herself； and he the
outsider。
Yet a quiver of fear went through her。 If he should leave
her？ She sat conjuring fears and sufferings； till she wept with
very selfpity。 She did not know what she would do if he left
her； or if he turned against her。 The thought of it chilled her；
made her desolate and hard。 And against him； the stranger； the
outsider； the being who wanted to arrogate authority； she
remained steadily fortified。 Was she not herself？ How could one
who was not of her own kind presume with authority？ She knew she
was immutable； unchangeable； she was not afraid for her own
being。 She was only afraid of all that was not herself。 It
pressed round her； it came to her and took part in her； in form
of her man； this vast； resounding； alien world which was not
herself。 And he had so many weapons； he might strike from so
many sides。
When he came in at the door； his heart was blazed with pity
and tenderness； she looked so lost and forlorn and young。 She
glanced up； afraid。 And she was surprised to see him；
shiningfaced； clear and beautiful in his movements； as if he
were clarified。 And a startled pang of fear； and shame of
herself went through her。
They waited for each other to speak。
〃Do you want to eat anything？〃 she said。
〃I'll get it myself；〃 he answered； not wanting her to serve
him。 But she brought out food。 And it pleased him she did it for
him。 He was again a bright lord。
〃I went to Nottingham；〃 he said mildly。
〃To your mother？〃 she asked； in a flash of contempt。
〃NoI didn't go home。〃
〃Who did you go to see？〃
〃I went to see nobody。〃
〃Then why did you go to Nottingham？〃
〃I went because I wanted to go。〃
He was getting angry that she again rebuffed him when he was
so clear and shining。
〃And who did you see？〃
〃I saw nobody。〃
〃Nobody？〃
〃Nowho should I see？〃
〃You saw nobody you knew？〃
〃No； I didn't；〃 he replied irritably。
She believed him； and her mood became cold。
〃I bought a book；〃 he said； handing her the propitiatory
volume。
She idly looked at the pictures。 Beautiful； the pure women；
with their cleardropping gowns。 Her heart became colder。 What
did they mean to him？
He sat and waited for her。 She bent over the book。
〃Aren't they nice？〃 he said； his voice roused and glad。 Her
blood flushed； but she did not lift her head。
〃Yes；〃 she said。 In spite of herself； she was pelled by
him。 He was strange； attractive； exerting some power over
her。
He came over to her； and touched her delicately。 Her heart
beat with wild passion； wild raging passion。 But she resisted as
yet。 It was always the unknown； always the unknown； and she
clung fiercely to her known self。 But the rising flood carried
her away。
They loved each other to transport again； passionately and
fully。
〃Isn't it more wonderful than ever？〃 she asked him； radiant
like a newly opened flower； with tears like dew。
He held her closer。 He was strange and abstracted。
〃It is always more wonderful；〃 she asseverated； in a glad；
child's voice； remembering her fear； and not quite cleared of it
yet。
So it went on continually； the recurrence of love and
conflict between them。 One day it seemed as if everything was
shattered； all life spoiled； ruined； desolate and laid waste。
The next day it was all marvellous again； just marvellous。 One
day she thought she would go mad from his very presence； the
sound of his drinking was detestable to her。 The next day she
loved and rejoiced in the way he crossed the floor； he was sun；
moon and stars in one。
She fretted； however； at last； over the lack of stability。
When the perfect hours came back； her heart did not fet that
they would pass away again。 She was uneasy。 The surety； the
surety； the inner surety； the confidence in the abidingness of
love： that was what she wanted。 And that she did not get。 She
knew also that he had not got it。
Nevertheless it was a marvellous world； she was for the most
part lost in the marvellousness of it。 Even her great woes were
marvellous to her。
She could be very happy。 And she wanted to be happy。 She
resented it when he made her unhappy。 Then she could kill him；
cast him out。 Many days； she waited for the hour when he would
be gone to work。 Then the flow of her life； which he seemed to
damn up； was let loose； and she was free。 She was free； she was
full of delight。 Everything delighted her。 She took up the rug
and went to shake it in the garden。 Patches of snow were on the
fields； the air was light。 She heard the ducks shouting on the
pond； she saw them charge and sail across the water as if they
were setting off on