came with the faint red glimmer of robins singing； winter
darkened the moors； and almost savagely she turned again to
life； demanding her life back again； demanding that it should be
as it had been when she was a girl； on the land at home； under
the sky。 Snow lay in great expanses； the telegraph posts strode
over the white earth； away under the gloom of the sky。 And
savagely her desire rose in her again； demanding that this was
Poland； her youth； that all was her own again。
But there were no sledges nor bells； she did not see the
peasants ing out like new people； in their sheepskins and
their fresh； ruddy； bright faces； that seemed to bee new and
vivid when the snow lit up the ground。 It did not e to her；
the life of her youth； it did not e back。 There was a little
agony of struggle； then a relapse into the darkness of the
convent； where Satan and the devils raged round the walls； and
Christ was white on the cross of victory。
She watched from the sickroom the snow whirl past； like
flocks of shadows in haste； flying on some final mission out to
a leaden inalterable sea； beyond the final whiteness of the
curving shore； and the snowspeckled blackness of the rocks half
submerged。 But near at hand on the trees the snow was soft in
bloom。 Only the voice of the dying vicar spoke grey and
querulous from behind。
By the time the snowdrops were out； however； he was dead。 He
was dead。 But ity the returning woman
watched the snowdrops on the edge of the grass below； blown
white in the wind； but not to be blown away。 She watched them
fluttering and bobbing； the white； shut flowers； anchored by a
thread to the greygreen grass； yet never blown away； not
drifting with the wind。
As she rose in the morning； the dawn was beating up white；
gusts of light blown like a thin snowstorm from the east； blown
stronger and fiercer； till the rose appeared； and the gold； and
the sea lit up below。 She was impassive and indifferent。 Yet she
was outside the enclosure of darkness。
There passed a space of shadow again； the familiarity of
dreadworship； during which she was moved； oblivious； to
Cossethay。 There； at first； there was nothingjust grey
nothing。 But then one morning there was a light from the yellow
jasmine caught her； and after that； morning and evening； the
persistent ringing of thrushes from the shrubbery； till her
heart； beaten upon； was forced to lift up its voice in rivalry
and answer。 Little tunes came into her mind。 She was full of
trouble almost like anguish。 Resistant； she knew she was beaten；
and from fear of darkness turned to fear of light。 She would
have hidden herself indoors； if she could。 Above all； she craved
for the peace and heavy oblivion of her old state。 She could not
bear to e to； to realize。 The first pangs of this new
parturition were so acute； she knew she could not bear it。 She
would rather remain out of life； than be torn； mutilated into
this birth； which she could not survive。 She had not the
strength to e to life now； in England； so foreign； skies so
hostile。 She knew she would die like an early； colourless；
scentless flower that the end of the winter puts forth
mercilessly。 And she wanted to harbour her modicum of twinkling
life。
But a sunshiny day came full of the scent of a mezereon tree；
when bees were tumbling into the yellow crocuses； and she
fot； she felt like somebody else； not herself； a new person；
quite glad。 But she knew it was fragile； and she dreaded it。 The
vicar put peaflower into the crocuses； for his bees to roll in；
and she laughed。 Then night came； with brilliant stars that she
knew of old； from her girlhood。 And they flashed so bright； she
knew they were victors。
She could neither wake nor sleep。 As if crushed between the
past and the future； like a flower that es aboveground to
find a great stone lying above it； she was helpless。
The bewilderment and helplessness continued； she was
surrounded by great moving masses that must crush her。 And there
was no escape。 Save in the old obliviousness； the cold darkness
she strove to retain。 But the vicar showed her eggs in the
thrush's nest near the back door。 She saw herself the
motherthrush upon the nest； and the way her wings were spread；
so eager down upon her secret。 The tense； eager； nesting wings
moved her beyond endurance。 She thought of them in the morning；
when she heard the thrush whistling as he got up； and she
thought； 〃Why didn't I die out there； why am I brought
here？〃
She was aware of people who passed around her； not as
persons； but as looming presences。 It was very difficult for her
to adjust herself。 In Poland； the peasantry； the people； had
been cattle to her； they had been her cattle that she owned and
used。 What were these people？ Now she was ing awake； she was
lost。
But she had felt Brangwen go by almost as if he had brushed
her。 She had tingled in body as she had gone on up the road。
After she had been with him in the Marsh kitchen； the voice of
her body had risen strong and insistent。 Soon； she wanted him。
He was the man who had e nearest to her for her
awakening。
Always； however； betweenwhiles she lapsed into the old
unconsciousness； indifference and there was a will in her to
save herself from living any more。 But she would wake in the
morning one day and feel her blood running； feel herself lying
open like a flower unsheathed in the sun； insistent and potent
with demand。
She got to know him better； and her instinct fixed on
himjust on him。 Her impulse was strong against him；
because he was not of her own sort。 But one blind instinct led
her； to take him； to leave him； and then to relinquish herself
to him。 It would be safety。 She felt the rooted safety of him；
and the life in him。 Also he was young and very fresh。 The blue；
steady livingness of his eyes she enjoyed like morning。 He was
very young。
Then she lapsed again to stupor and indifference。 This；
however； was bound to pass。 The warmth flowed through her； she
felt herself opening； unfolding； asking； as a flower opens in
full request under the sun； as the beaks of tiny birds open
flat； to receive； to receive。 And unfolded she turned to him；
straight to him。 And he came； slowly； afraid； held back by
uncouth fear； and driven by a desire bigger than himself。
When she opened and turned to him； then all that had been and
all that was； was gone from her； she was as new as a flower that
unsheathes itself and stands always ready； waiting； receptive。
He could not understand this。 He forced himself； through lack of
understanding； to the adherence to the line of honourable
courtship and sanctioned； licensed marriage。 Therefore； after he
had gone to the vicarage and asked for her； she remained for
some days held in this one spell； open； receptive to him； before
him。 He was roused to chaos。 He spoke to the vicar and gave in
the banns。 Then he stood to wait。
She remained attentive and instinctively expectant before
him； unfolded； ready to receive him。 He could not act； because
of selffear and because of his conception of honour towards
her。 So he remained in a state of chaos。
And after a few days； gradually she closed again； away from
him； was sheathed over； impervious to him； oblivious。 Then a
black； bottomless despair became real to him； he knew what he
had lost。 He felt he had lost it for good； he knew what it was
to have been in munication with her； and to be cast off
again。 In misery； his heart like a heavy stone； he went about
unliving。
Till gradually he became desperate； lost his understanding；
was plunged in a revolt that knew no bounds。 Inarticulate； he
moved with her at the Marsh in violent； gloomy； wordless
passion； almost in hatred of her。 Till gradually she became
aware of him； aware of herself with regard to him； her blood
stirred to life； she began to open towards him； to flow towards
him again。 He waited till the spell was between them again； till
they were together within one rushing； hastening flame。 And then
again he was bewildered； he was tied up as with cords； and could
not move to her。 So she came to him； and unfastened the breast
of his waistcoat and his shirt； and put her hand on him； needing
to know him。 For it was cruel to her； to be opened and offered
to him； yet not to know what he was； not even that he was there。
She gave herself to the hour； but he could not； and he bungled
in taking her。
So that he lived in suspense； as if only half his faculties
worked； until the wedding。 She did not understand。 But the
vagueness came over her again； and the days lapsed by。 He could
not get definitely into touch with her。 For the time being； she
let him go again。
He suffered very much from the thought of actual marriage；
the intimacy and nakedness of marriage。 He knew her so little。
They were so foreign to each other； they were such strangers。
And they could not talk to each other。 When she talked； of
Poland or of what had been； it was all so foreign； she scarcely
municated anything to him。 And when he looked at her； an
overmuch reverence and fear of the unknown changed the nature
of his desire into a sort of worship； holding her aloof from his
physical desire； selfthwarting。
She did not know this； she did not understand。 They had
looked at each other； and had accepted each other。 It was so；
then there was nothing to balk at； it was plete between
them。
At the wedding； his face was stiff and expressionless。 He
wanted to drink； to get rid of his forethought and afterthought；
to set the moment free。 But he could not。 The suspense only
tightened at his heart。 The jesting and joviality and jolly；
broad insinuation of the guests only coiled him more。 He could
not hear。 That which was impending obsessed him； he could not
get free。
She sat quiet； with a strange； still smile。 She was not
afraid。 Having accepted him； she wanted to take him； she
belonged altogether to the hour； now。 No future； no past； only
this； her hour。 She did not even notice him； as she sat beside
him at the head of the table。 He was very near； their ing
together was close at hand。 What more！
As the time came for all the guests to go； her dark face was
softly lighted； the bend of her head was proud； her grey eyes
clear and dilated； so that the men could not look at her； and
the women were elated by her； they served her。 Very wonderful
she was； as she bade farewell； her ugly wide mouth smiling with
pride and recognition； her voice speaking softly and richly in
the foreign accent； her dilated eyes ignoring one and all the
departing guests。 Her manner was gracious and fascinating； but
she ignored the being of him or her to whom she gave her
hand。
And Brangwen stood beside her； giving his hearty handshake to
his friends； receiving their regard gratefully； glad of their
attention。 His heart was tormented within him； he did not try to
smile。 The time of his trial and his admittance； his Gethsemane
and his Triumphal Entry in one； had e now。
Behind her； there was so much unknown to him。 When he
approached her； he came to such a terrible painful unknown。 How
could he embrace it and fathom it？ How could he close his arms
round all this darkness and hold it to his breast and give
himself to it？ What might