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translated was not the same as the pale rosary meant。 There was
a discrepancy； a falsehood。 It irritated her to say； 〃Dominus
tecum；〃 or； 〃benedicta tu in mulieribus。〃 She loved the mystic
words； 〃Ave Maria； Sancta Maria；〃 she was moved by 〃benedictus
fructus ventris tui Jesus；〃 and by 〃nunc et in hora mortis
nostrae。〃 But none of it was quite real。 It was not
satisfactory； somehow。
She avoided her rosary； because； moving her with curious
passion as it did； it meant only these not very
significant things。 She put it away。 It was her instinct to put
all these things away。 It was her instinct to avoid thinking； to
avoid it； to save herself。
She was seventeen； touchy； full of spirits； and very moody：
quick to flush； and always uneasy； uncertain。 For some reason or
other； she turned more to her father； she felt almost flashes of
hatred for her mother。 Her mother's dark muzzle and curiously
insidious ways； her mother's utter surety and confidence； her
strange satisfaction； even triumph； her mother's way of laughing
at things and her mother's silent overriding of vexatious
propositions； most of all her mother's triumphant power maddened
the girl。
She became sudden and incalculable。 Often she stood at the
window； looking out； as if she wanted to go。 Sometimes she went；
she mixed with people。 But always she came home in anger； as if
she were diminished； belittled； almost degraded。
There was over the house a kind of dark silence and
intensity； in which passion worked its inevitable conclusions。
There was in the house a sort of richness； a deep； inarticulate
interchange which made other places seem thin and unsatisfying。
Brangwen could sit silent； smoking in his chair； the mother
could move about in her quiet； insidious way； and the sense of
the two presences was powerful； sustaining。 The whole
intercourse was wordless； intense and close。
But Anna was uneasy。 She wanted to get away。 Yet wherever she
went； there came upon her that feeling of thinness； as if she
were made smaller； belittled。 She hastened home。
There she raged and interrupted the strong； settled
interchange。 Sometimes her mother turned on her with a fierce；
destructive anger； in which was no pity or consideration。 And
Anna shrank； afraid。 She went to her father。
He would still listen to the spoken word； which fell sterile
on the unheeding mother。 Sometimes Anna talked to her father。
She tried to discuss people； she wanted to know what was meant。
But her father became uneasy。 He did not want to have things
dragged into consciousness。 Only out of consideration for her he
listened。 And there was a kind of bristling rousedness in the
room。 The cat got up and stretching itself； went uneasily to the
door。 Mrs。 Brangwen was silent； she seemed ominous。 Anna could
not go on with her faultfinding； her criticism； her expression
of dissatisfactions。 She felt even her father against her。 He
had a strong； dark bond with her mother； a potent intimacy that
existed inarticulate and wild； following its own course； and
savage if interrupted； uncovered。
Nevertheless Brangwen was uneasy about the girl； the whole
house continued to be disturbed。 She had a pathetic； baffled
appeal。 She was hostile to her parents； even whilst she lived
entirely with them； within their spell。
Many ways she tried； of escape。 She became an assiduous
churchgoer。 But the language meant nothing to her： it
seemed false。 She hated to hear things expressed； put into
words。 Whilst the religious feelings were inside her they were
passionately moving。 In the mouth of the clergyman； they were
false； indecent。 She tried to read。 But again the tedium and the
sense of the falsity of the spoken word put her off。 She went to
stay with girl friends。 At first she thought it splendid。 But
then the inner boredom came on； it seemed to her all
nothingness。 And she felt always belittled； as if never； never
could she stretch her length and stride her stride。
Her mind reverted often to the torture cell of a certain
Bishop of France； in which the victim could neither stand nor
lie stretched out； never。 Not that she thought of herself in any
connection with this。 But often there came into her mind the
wonder； how the cell was built； and she could feel the horror of
the crampedness； as something very real。
She was； however； only eighteen when a letter came from Mrs。
Alfred Brangwen； in Nottingham； saying that her son William was
ing to Ilkeston to take a place as junior draughtsman；
scarcely more than apprentice； in a lace factory。 He was twenty
years old； and would the Marsh Brangwens be friendly with
him。
Tom Brangwen at once wrote offering the young man a home at
the Marsh。 This was not accepted； but the Nottingham Brangwens
expressed gratitude。
There had never been much love lost between the Nottingham
Brangwens and the Marsh。 Indeed； Mrs。 Alfred； having inherited
three thousand pounds； and having occasion to be dissatisfied
with her husband； held aloof from all the Brangwens whatsoever。
She affected； however； some esteem of Mrs。 Tom； as she called
the Polish woman； saying that at any rate she was a lady。
Anna Brangwen was faintly excited at the news of her Cousin
Will's ing to Ilkeston。 She knew plenty of young men； but
they had never bee real to her。 She had seen in this young
gallant a nose she liked； in that a pleasant moustache； in the
other a nice way of wearing clothes； in one a ridiculous fringe
of hair； in another a ical way of talking。 They were objects
of amusement and faint wonder to her； rather than real beings；
the young men。
The only man she knew was her father； and； as he was
something large； looming； a kind of Godhead； he embraced all
manhood for her； and other men were just incidental。
She remembered her cousin Will。 He had town clothes and was
thin； with a very curious head； black as jet； with hair like
sleek； thin fur。 It was a curious head： it reminded her she knew
not of what： of some animal； some mysterious animal that lived
in the darkness under the leaves and never came out； but which
lived vividly； swift and intense。 She always thought of him with
that black； keen； blind head。 And she considered him odd。
He appeared at the Marsh one Sunday morning： a rather long；
thin youth with a bright face and a curious selfpossession
among his shyness； a native unawareness of what other people
might be； since he was himself。
When Anna came downstairs in her Sunday clothes； ready for
church； he rose and greeted her conventionally； shaking hands。
His manners were better than hers。 She flushed。 She noticed that
he now had a thick fledge on his upper lip； a black；
finelyshapen line marking his wide mouth。 It rather repelled
her。 It reminded her of the thin； fine fur of his hair。 She was
aware of something strange in him。
His voice had rather high upper notes； and very resonant
middle notes。 It was queer。 She wondered why he did it。 But he
sat very naturally in the Marsh livingroom。 He had some
uncouthness； some natural selfpossession of the Brangwens； that
made him at home there。
Anna was rather troubled by the strangely intimate；
affectionate way her father had towards this young man。 He
seemed gentle towards him； he put himself aside in order to fill
out the young man。 This irritated Anna。
〃Father；〃 she said abruptly； 〃give me some collection。〃
〃What collection？〃 asked Brangwen。
〃Don't be ridiculous；〃 she cried； flushing。
〃Nay；〃 he said； 〃what collection's this？〃
〃You know it's the first Sunday of the month。〃
Anna stood confused。 Why was he doing this； why was he making
her conspicuous before this stranger？
〃I want some collection；〃 she reasserted。
〃So tha says；〃 he replied indifferently； looking at her； then
turning again to this nephew。
She went forward； and thrust her hand into his breeches
pocket。 He smoked steadily； making no resistance； talking to his
nephew。 Her hand groped about in his pocket； and then drew out
his leathern purse。 Her colour was bright in her clear cheeks；
her eyes shone。 Brangwen's eyes were twinkling。 The nephew sat
sheepishly。 Anna； in her finery； sat down and slid all the money
into her lap。 There was silver and gold。 The youth could not
help watching her。 She was bent over the heap of money；
fingering the different coins。
〃I've a good mind to take half a sovereign；〃 she said； and
she looked up with glowing dark eyes。 She met the lightbrown
eyes of her cousin； close and intent upon her。 She was startled。
She laughed quickly； and turned to her father。
〃I've a good mind to take half a sovereign； our Dad；〃 she
said。
〃Yes； nimble fingers；〃 said her father。 〃You take what's your
own。〃
〃Are you ing； our Anna？〃 asked her brother from the
door。
She suddenly chilled to normal； fetting both her father
and her cousin。
〃Yes； I'm ready；〃 she said； taking sixpence from the heap of
money and sliding the rest back into the purse； which she laid
on the table。
〃Give it here；〃 said her father。
Hastily she thrust the purse into his pocket and was going
out。
〃You'd better go wi' 'em； lad； hadn't you？〃 said the father
to the nephew。
Will Brangwen rose uncertainly。 He had goldenbrown； quick；
steady eyes； like a bird's； like a hawk's； which cannot look
afraid。
〃Your Cousin Will 'll e with you；〃 said the father。
Anna glanced at the strange youth again。 She felt him waiting
there for her to notice him。 He was hovering on the edge of her
consciousness； ready to e in。 She did not want to look at
him。 She was antagonistic to him。
She waited without speaking。 Her cousin took his hat and
joined her。 It was summer outside。 Her brother Fred was plucking
a sprig of flowery currant to put in his coat； from the bush at
the angle of the house。 She took no notice。 Her cousin followed
just behind her。
They were on the high road。 She was aware of a strangeness in
her being。 It made her uncertain。 She caught sight of the
flowering currant in her brother's buttonhole。
〃Oh； our Fred；〃 she cried。 〃Don't wear that stuff to go to
church。〃
Fred looked down protectively at the pink adornment on his
breast。
〃Why； I like it；〃 he said。
〃Then you're the only one who does； I'm sure；〃 she said。
And she turned to her cousin。
〃Do you like the smell of it？〃 she asked。
He was there beside her； tall and uncouth and yet
selfpossessed。 It excited her。
〃I can't say whether I do or not；〃 he replied。
〃Give it here； Fred； don't have it smelling in church；〃 she
said to the little boy； her page。
Her fair； small brother handed her the flower dutifully。 She
sniffed it and gave it without a word to her cousin； for his
judgment。 He smelled the dangling flower curiously。
〃It's a funny smell；〃 he said。
And suddenly she laughed； and a quick light came on all their
faces； there was a blithe trip in the small boy's walk。
The bells were ringing； they were going up the summery hill
in their Sunday clothes。 Anna was very fine in a silk frock of
brown and white stripes； tight along the arms and the body；
bunched up very elegantly behind the skirt。 There was something
of the cavalier about Will Brangwen； and he was well
dressed。
He walked along with the sprig of currantblossom dangling
between his fingers； and none of them spoke。 The sun shone
brightly on little showers of buttercup down the bank； in the
fields the fool'sparsley was foamy； held very high and proud
above a number of flowers that flitted in the greenish twilight
of the mowinggrass below。
They reached the church。 Fred led the way to the pew；
followed by the cousin； then Anna。 She felt very conspicuous and
important。 Somehow； this young man gave her away to other
people。 He stood aside and let her pass to her place； then sat
next to her。 It was a curious sensation； to sit next to him。
The colour came streaming from the painted window above her。
It lit on the dark wood of the pew； on the stone； worn aisle； on
the pillar behind her cousin； and on her cousin's hands； as they
lay on his knees。 She sat amid illumination； illumination and
luminous shadow all around her； her soul very bright。 She sat；
without knowing it； conscious of the hands and motionless knees
of her cousin。 Something strange had entered in