rich woman enjoying her riches。
And soon again she was with child。 Which made her satisfied
and took away her discontent。 She fot that she had watched
the sun climb up and pass his way； a magnificent traveller
surging forward。 She fot that the moon had looked through a
window of the high； dark night； and nodded like a magic
recognition； signalled to her to follow。 Sun and moon travelled
on； and left her； passed her by； a rich woman enjoying her
riches。 She should go also。 But she could not go； when they
called； because she must stay at home now。 With satisfaction she
relinquished the adventure to the unknown。 She was bearing her
children。
There was another child ing； and Anna lapsed into vague
content。 If she were not the wayfarer to the unknown； if she
were arrived now； settled in her builded house； a rich woman；
still her doors opened under the arch of the rainbow； her
threshold reflected the passing of the sun and moon； the great
travellers； her house was full of the echo of journeying。
She was a door and a threshold； she herself。 Through her
another soul was ing； to stand upon her as upon the
threshold； looking out； shading its eyes for the direction to
take。
CHAPTER VII
THE CATHEDRAL
During the first year of her marriage； before Ursula was
born； Anna Brangwen and her husband went to visit her mother's
friend； the Baron Skrebensky。 The latter had kept a slight
connection with Anna's mother； and had always preserved some
officious interest in the young girl； because she was a pure
Pole。
When Baron Skrebensky was about forty years old； his wife
died； and left him raving； disconsolate。 Lydia had visited him
then； taking Anna with her。 It was when the girl was fourteen
years old。 Since then she had not seen him。 She remembered him
as a small sharp clergyman who cried and talked and terrified
her； whilst her mother was most strangely consoling； in a
foreign language。
The little Baron never quite approved of Anna； because she
spoke no Polish。 Still； he considered himself in some way her
guardian； on Lensky's behalf； and he presented her with some
old； heavy Russian jewellery； the least valuable of his wife's
relics。 Then he lapsed out of the Brangwen's life again； though
he lived only about thirty miles away。
Three years later came the startling news that he had married
a young English girl of good family。 Everybody marvelled。 Then
came a copy of 〃The History of the Parish of Briswell； by
Rudolph； Baron Skrebensky； Vicar of Briswell。〃 It was a curious
book； incoherent； full of interesting exhumations。 It was
dedicated： 〃To my wife； Millicent Maud Pearse； in whom I embrace
the generous spirit of England。〃
〃If he embraces no more than the spirit of England；〃 said Tom
Brangwen； 〃it's a bad lookout for him。〃
But paying a formal visit with his wife； he found the new
Baroness a little； creamyskinned； insidious thing with
redbrown hair and a mouth that one must always watch； because
it curved back continually in an inprehensible； strange laugh
that exposed her rather prominent teeth。 She was not beautiful；
yet Tom Brangwen was immediately under her spell。 She seemed to
snuggle like a kitten within his warmth； whilst she was at the
same time elusive and ironical； suggesting the fine steel of her
claws。
The Baron was almost dotingly courteous and attentive to her。
She； almost mockingly； yet quite happy； let him dote。 Curious
little thing she was； she had the soft； creamy； elusive beauty
of a ferret。 Tom Brangwen was quite at a loss； at her mercy； and
she laughed； a little breathlessly； as if tempted to cruelty。
She did put fine torments on the elderly Baron。
When some months later she bore a son； the Baron Skrebensky
was loud with delight。
Gradually she gathered a circle of acquaintances in the
county。 For she was of good family； half Veian； educated in
Dresden。 The little foreign vicar attained to a social status
which almost satisfied his maddened pride。
Therefore the Brangwens were surprised when the invitation
came for Anna and her young husband to pay a visit to Briswell
vicarage。 For the Skrebenskys were now moderately well off；
Millicent Skrebensky having some fortune of her own。
Anna took her best clothes； recovered her best highschool
manner； and arrived with her husband。 Will Brangwen； ruddy；
bright； with long limbs and a small head； like some uncouth
bird； was not changed in the least。 The little Baroness was
smiling； showing her teeth。 She had a real charm； a kind of
joyous coldness； laughing； delighted； like some weasel。 Anna at
once respected her； and was on her guard before her；
instinctively attracted by the strange； childlike surety of the
Baroness； yet mistrusting it； fascinated。 The little baron was
now quite whitehaired； very brittle。 He was wizened and
wrinkled； yet fiery； unsubdued。 Anna looked at his lean body； at
his small； fine lean legs and lean hands as he sat talking； and
she flushed。 She recognized the quality of the male in him； his
lean； concentrated age； his informed fire； his faculty for
sharp； deliberate response。 He was so detached； so purely
objective。 A woman was thoroughly outside him。 There was no
confusion。 So he could give that fine； deliberate response。
He was something separate and interesting； his hard；
intrinsic being； whittled down by age to an essentiality and a
directness almost deathlike； cruel； was yet so unswervingly
sure in its action； so distinct in its surety； that she was
attracted to him。 She watched his cool； hard； separate fire；
fascinated by it。 Would she rather have it than her husband's
diffuse heat； than his blind； hot youth？
She seemed to be breathing high； sharp air； as if she had
just e out of a hot room。 These strange Skrebenskys made her
aware of another； freer element； in which each person was
detached and isolated。 Was not this her natural element？ Was not
the close Brangwen life stifling her？
Meanwhile the little baroness； with always a subtle light
stirring of her full； lustrous； hazel eyes； was playing with
Will Brangwen。 He was not quick enough to see all her movements。
Yet he watched her steadily； with unchanging； litup eyes。 She
was a strange creature to him。 But she had no power over him。
She flushed； and was irritated。 Yet she glanced again and again
at his dark； living face； curiously； as if she despised him。 She
despised his uncritical； unironical nature； it had nothing for
her。 Yet it angered her as if she were jealous。 He watched her
with deferential interest as he would watch a stoat playing。 But
he himself was not implicated。 He was different in kind。 She was
all lambent； biting flames； he was a red fire glowing steadily。
She could get nothing out of him。 So she made him flush darkly
by assuming a biting； subtle classsuperiority。 He flushed； but
still he did not object。 He was too different。
Her little boy came in with the nurse。 He was a quick； slight
child； with fine perceptiveness； and a cool transitoriness in
his interest。 At once he treated Will Brangwen as an outsider。
He stayed by Anna for a moment； acknowledged her； then was gone
again； quick； observant； restless； with a glance of interest at
everything。
The father adored him； and spoke to him in Polish。 It was
queer； the stiff； aristocratic manner of the father with the
child； the distance in the relationship； the classic fatherhood
on the one hand； the filial subordination on the other。 They
played together； in their different degrees very separate； two
different beings； differing as it were in rank rather than in
relationship。 And the baroness smiled； smiled； smiled； always
smiled； showing her rather protruding teeth； having always a
mysterious attraction and charm。
Anna realized how different her own life might have been； how
different her own living。 Her soul stirred； she became as
another person。 Her intimacy with her husband passed away； the
curious enveloping Brangwen intimacy； so warm； so close； so
stifling； when one seemed always to be in contact with the other
person； like a bloodrelation； was annulled。 She denied it； this
close relationship with her young husband。 He and she were not
one。 His heat was not always to suffuse her； suffuse her；
through her mind and her individuality； till she was of one heat
with him； till she had not her own self apart。 She wanted her
own life。 He seemed to lap her and suffuse her with his being；
his hot life； till she did not know whether she were herself； or
whether she were another creature； united with him in a world of
close bloodintimacy that closed over her and excluded her from
all the cool outside。
She wanted her own； old； sharp self； detached； detached；
active but not absorbed； active for her own part； taking and
giving； but never absorbed。 Whereas he wanted this strange
absorption with her； which still she resisted。 But she was
partly helpless against it。 She had lived so long in Tom
Brangwen's love； beforehand。
From the Skrebensky's； they went to Will Brangwen's beloved
Lincoln Cathedral； because it was not far off。 He had promised
her； that one by one； they should visit all the cathedrals of
England。 They began with Lincoln； which he knew well。
He began to get excited as the time drew near to set off。
What was it that changed him so much？ She was almost angry；
ing as she did from the Skrebensky's。 But now he ran on
alone。 His very breast seemed to open its doors to watch for the
great church brooding over the town。 His soul ran ahead。
When he saw the cathedral in the distance； dark blue lifted
watchful in the sky； his heart leapt。 It was the sign in heaven；
it was the Spirit hovering like a dove； like an eagle over the
earth。 He turned his glowing； ecstatic face to her； his mouth
opened with a strange； ecstatic grin。
〃There she is；〃 he said。
The 〃she〃 irritated her。 Why 〃she〃？ It was 〃it〃。 What was the
cathedral； a big building； a thing of the past； obsolete； to
excite him to such a pitch？ She began to stir herself to
readiness。
They passed up the steep hill； he eager as a pilgrim arriving
at the shrine。 As they came near the precincts； with castle on
one side and cathedral on the other； his veins seemed to break
into fiery blossom； he was transported。
They had passed through the gate； and the great west front
was before them； with all its breadth and ornament。
〃It is a false front；〃 he said； looking at the golden stone
and the twin towers； and loving them just the same。 In a little
ecstasy he found himself in the porch； on the brink of the
unrevealed。 He looked up to the lovely unfolding of the stone。
He was to pass within to the perfect womb。
Then he pushed open the door； and the great； pillared gloom
was before him； in which his soul shuddered and rose from her
nest。 His soul leapt； soared up into the great church。 His body
stood still； absorbed by the height。 His soul leapt up into the
gloom； into possession； it reeled； it swooned with a great
escape； it quivered in the womb； in the hush and the gloom of
fecundity； like seed of procreation in ecstasy。
She too was overe with wonder and awe。 She followed him in
his progress。 Here； the twilight was the very essence of life；
the coloured darkness was t