and occasionally lifting his beerpot； and saying nothing； for
all the world like a gorping farmlabourer； as he said
himself。
Then a fever of restless anger came upon him。 He wanted to go
awayright away。 He dreamed of foreign parts。 But somehow
he had no contact with them。 And it was a very strong root which
held him to the Marsh； to his own house and land。
Then Effie got married； and he was left in the house with
only Tilly； the crosseyed womanservant who had been with them
for fifteen years。 He felt things ing to a close。 All the
time； he had held himself stubbornly resistant to the action of
the monplace unreality which wanted to absorb him。 But now he
had to do something。
He was by nature temperate。 Being sensitive and emotional；
his nausea prevented him from drinking too much。
But； in futile anger； with the greatest of determination and
apparent good humour； he began to drink in order to get drunk。
〃Damn it；〃 he said to himself； 〃you must have it one road or
anotheryou can't hitch your horse to the shadow of a
gatepostif you've got legs you've got to rise off your
backside some time or other。〃
So he rose and went down to Ilkeston； rather awkwardly took
his place among a gang of young bloods； stood drinks to the
pany； and discovered he could carry it off quite well。 He had
an idea that everybody in the room was a man after his own
heart； that everything was glorious； everything was perfect。
When somebody in alarm told him his coat pocket was on fire； he
could only beam from a red； blissful face and say
〃Issallriightissal'riightit's a'
rightlet it be； let it be〃 and he laughed
with pleasure； and was rather indignant that the others should
think it unnatural for his coat pocket to burn：it was the
happiest and most natural thing in the worldwhat？
He went home talking to himself and to the moon； that was
very high and small； stumbling at the flashes of moonlight from
the puddles at his feet； wondering What the Hanover！ then
laughing confidently to the moon； assuring her this was first
class； this was。
In the morning he woke up and thought about it； and for the
first time in his life； knew what it was to feel really acutely
irritable； in a misery of real bad temper。 After bawling and
snarling at Tilly； he took himself off for very shame； to be
alone。 And looking at the ashen fields and the putty roads； he
wondered what in the name of Hell he could do to get out of this
prickly sense of disgust and physical repulsion。 And he knew
that this was the result of his glorious evening。
And his stomach did not want any more brandy。 He went
doggedly across the fields with his terrier； and looked at
everything with a jaundiced eye。
The next evening found him back again in his place at the
〃Red Lion〃； moderate and decent。 There he sat and stubbornly
waited for what would happen next。
Did he； or did he not believe that he belonged to this world
of Cossethay and Ilkeston？ There was nothing in it he wanted。
Yet could he ever get out of it？ Was there anything in himself
that would carry him out of it？ Or was he a dunderheaded baby；
not man enough to be like the other young fellows who drank a
good deal and wenched a little without any question； and were
satisfied。
He went on stubbornly for a time。 Then the strain became too
great for him。 A hot； accumulated consciousness was always awake
in his chest； his wrists felt sind
became full of lustful images； his eyes seemed bloodflushed。 He
fought with himself furiously； to remain normal。 He did not seek
any woman。 He just went on as if he were normal。 Till he must
either take some action or beat his head against the wall。
Then he went deliberately to Ilkeston； in silence； intent and
beaten。 He drank to get drunk。 He gulped down the brandy； and
more brandy； till his face became pale； his eyes burning。 And
still he could not get free。 He went to sleep in drunken
unconsciousness； woke up at four o'clock in the morning and
continued drinking。 He would get free。 Gradually the
tension in him began to relax。 He began to feel happy。 His
riveted silence was unfastened； he began to talk and babble。 He
was happy and at one with all the world； he was united with all
flesh in a hot bloodrelationship。 So； after three days of
incessant brandydrinking； he had burned out the youth from his
blood； he had achieved this kindled state of oneness with all
the world； which is the end of youth's most passionate desire。
But he had achieved his satisfaction by obliterating his own
individuality； that which it depended on his manhood to preserve
and develop。
So he became a boutdrinker； having at intervals these bouts
of three or four days of brandydrinking； when he was drunk for
the whole time。 He did not think about it。 A deep resentment
burned in him。 He kept aloof from any women； antagonistic。
When he was twentyeight； a thicklimbed； stiff； fair man
with fresh plexion； and blue eyes staring very straight
ahead； he was ing one day down from Cossethay with a load of
seed out of Nottingham。 It was a time when he was getting ready
for another bout of drinking； so he stared fixedly before him；
watchful yet absorbed； seeing everything and aware of nothing；
coiled in himself。 It was early in the year。
He walked steadily beside the horse； the load clanked behind
as the hill descended steeper。 The road curved downhill before
him； under banks and hedges； seen only for a few yards
ahead。
Slowly turning the curve at the steepest part of the slope；
his horse britching between the shafts； he saw a woman
approaching。 But he was thinking for the moment of the
horse。
Then he turned to look at her。 She was dressed in black； was
apparently rather small and slight； beneath her long black
cloak； and she wore a black bon。 She walked hastily； as if
unseeing； her head rather forward。 It was her curious； absorbed；
flitting motion； as if she were passing unseen by everybody；
that first arrested him。
She had heard the cart； and looked up。 Her face was pale and
clear； she had thick dark eyebrows and a wide mouth； curiously
held。 He saw her face clearly； as if by a light in the air。 He
saw her face so distinctly； that he ceased to coil on himself；
and was suspended。
〃That's her；〃 he said involuntarily。 As the cart passed by；
splashing through the thin mud； she stood back against the bank。
Then； as he walked still beside his britching horse； his eyes
met hers。 He looked quickly away； pressing back his head； a pain
of joy running through him。 He could not bear to think of
anything。
He turned round at the last moment。 He saw her bon； her
shape in the black cloak； the movement as she walked。 Then she
was gone round the bend。
She had passed by。 He felt as if he were walking again in a
far world； not Cossethay； a far world； the fragile reality。 He
went on； quiet； suspended； rarefied。 He could not bear to think
or to speak； nor make any sound or sign； nor change his fixed
motion。 He could scarcely bear to think of her face。 He moved
within the knowledge of her； in the world that was beyond
reality。
The feeling that they had exchanged recognition possessed him
like a madness； like a torment。 How could he be sure； what
confirmation had he？ The doubt was like a sense of infinite
space； a nothingness； annihilating。 He kept within his breast
the will to surety。 They had exchanged recognition。
He walked about in this state for the next few days。 And then
again like a mist it began to break to let through the mon；
barren world。 He was very gentle with man and beast； but he
dreaded the starkness of disillusion cropping through again。
As he was standing with his back to the fire after dinner a
few days later； he saw the woman passing。 He wanted to know that
she knew him； that she was aware。 He wanted it said that there
was something between them。 So he stood anxiously watching；
looking at her as she went down the road。 He called to
Tilly。
〃Who might that be？〃 he asked。
Tilly； the crosseyed woman of forty； who adored him； ran
gladly to the window to look。 She was glad when he asked her for
anything。 She craned her head over the short curtain； the little
tight knob of her black hair sticking out pathetically as she
bobbed about。
〃Oh why〃she lifted her head and peered with her
twisted； keen brown eyes〃why； you know who it
isit's her from th' vicarageyou know〃
〃How do I know； you henbird；〃 he shouted。
Tilly blushed and drew her neck in and looked at him with her
squinting； sharp； almost reproachful look。
〃Why you doit's the new housekeeper。〃
〃Ayan' what by that？〃
〃Well； an' what by that？〃 rejoined the indignant
Tilly。
〃She's a woman； isn't she； housekeeper or no housekeeper？
She's got more to her than that！ Who is sheshe's got a
name？〃
〃Well； if she has； I don't know；〃 retorted Tilly； not
to be badgered by this lad who had grown up into a man。
〃What's her name？〃 he asked； more gently。
〃I'm sure I couldn't tell you；〃 replied Tilly； on her
dignity。
〃An' is that all as you've gathered； as she's housekeeping at
the vicarage？〃
〃I've 'eered mention of 'er name； but I couldn't remember it
for my life。〃
〃Why； yer riddleskulled woman o' nonsense； what have you got
a head for？〃
〃For what other folks 'as got theirs for；〃 retorted Tilly；
who loved nothing more than these tilts when he would call her
names。
There was a lull。
〃I don't believe as anybody could keep it in their head；〃 the
womanservant continued； tentatively。
〃What？〃 he asked。
〃Why； 'er name。〃
〃How's that？〃
〃She's fra some foreign parts or other。〃
〃Who told you that？〃
〃That's all I do know； as she is。〃
〃An' wheer do you reckon she's from； then？〃
〃I don't know。 They do say as she hails fra th' Pole。 I don't
know；〃 Tilly hastened to add； knowing he would attack her。
〃Fra th' Pole； why do you hail fra th' Pole？ Who set
up that menagerie confabulation？〃
〃That's what they sayI don't know〃
〃Who says？〃
〃Mrs。 Bentley says as she's fra th' Poleelse she is a
Pole； or summat。〃
Tilly was only afraid she was landing herself deeper now。
〃Who says she's a Pole？〃
〃They all say so。〃
〃Then what's brought her to these parts？〃
〃I couldn't tell you。 She's got a little girl with her。〃
〃Got a little girl with her？〃
〃Of three or four； with a head like a fuzzball。〃
〃Black？〃
〃Whitefair as can be； an' all of a fuzz。〃
〃Is there a father； then？〃
〃Not to my knowledge。 I don't know。〃
〃What brought her here？〃
〃I couldn't say； without th' vicar axed her。〃
〃Is the child her child？〃
〃I s'd think sothey say so。〃
〃Who told you about her？〃
〃Why； LizzieaMondaywe seed her goin'
past。〃
〃You'd have to be rattling your tongues if anything went
past。〃
Brangwen stood musing。 That evening he went up to Cossethay
to the 〃Red Lion〃； half with the intention of hearing more。
She was the widow of a Polish doctor； he gathered。 Her
husband had died； a refugee； in London。 She spoke a bit
foreignlike； but you could easily make out what she said。 She
had one little girl named Anna。 Lensky was the woman's name；
Mrs。 Lensky。
Brangwen felt that here was the unreality established at
last。 He felt also a curious certainty about her； as