there was the grassy garden； the procession of black yew trees
down one side； and along the other sides； a red wall with ivy
separating the place from the high…road and the churchyard。 The
old； little church； with its small spire on a square tower；
seemed to be looking back at the cottage windows。
〃There'll be no need to have a clock；〃 said Will Brangwen；
peeping out at the white clock…face on the tower； his
neighbour。
At the back of the house was a garden adjoining the paddock；
a cowshed with standing for two cows； pig…cotes and fowl…houses。
Will Brangwen was very happy。 Anna was glad to think of being
mistress of her own place。
Tom Brangwen was now the fairy godfather。 He was never happy
unless he was buying something。 Will Brangwen； with his interest
in all wood…work； was getting the furniture。 He was left to buy
tables and round…staved chairs and the dressers； quite ordinary
stuff； but such as was identified with his cottage。
Tom Brangwen； with more particular thought； spied out what he
called handy little things for her。 He appeared with a set of
new…fangled cooking…pans； with a special sort of hanging lamp；
though the rooms were so low； with canny little machines for
grinding meat or mashing potatoes or whisking eggs。
Anna took a sharp interest in what he bought； though she was
not always pleased。 Some of the little contrivances； which he
thought so canny； left her doubtful。 Nevertheless she was always
expectant； on market days there was always a long thrill of
anticipation。 He arrived with the first darkness； the copper
lamps of his cart glowing。 And she ran to the gate； as he； a
dark； burly figure up in the cart； was bending over his
parcels。
〃It's cupboard love as brings you out so sharp；〃 he said； his
voice resounding in the cold darkness。 Nevertheless he was
excited。 And she； taking one of the cart lamps； poked and peered
among the jumble of things he had brought； pushing aside the oil
or implements he had got for himself。
She dragged out a pair of small； strong bellows； registered
them in her mind； and then pulled uncertainly at something else。
It had a long handle； and a piece of brown paper round the
middle of it； like a waistcoat。
〃What's this？〃 she said； poking。
He stopped to look at her。 She went to the lamp…light by the
horse； and stood there bent over the new thing； while her hair
was like bronze； her apron white and cheerful。 Her fingers
plucked busily at the paper。 She dragged forth a little wringer；
with clean indiarubber rollers。 She examined it critically； not
knowing quite how it worked。
She looked up at him。 He stood a shadowy presence beyond the
light。
〃How does it go？〃 she asked。
〃Why； it's for pulpin' turnips；〃 he replied。
She looked at him。 His voice disturbed her。
〃Don't be silly。 It's a little mangle；〃 she said。 〃How do you
stand it； though？〃
〃You screw it on th' side o' your wash…tub。〃 He came and held
it out to her。
〃Oh； yes！〃 she cried； with one of her little skipping
movements； which still came when she was suddenly glad。
And without another thought she ran off into the house；
leaving him to untackle the horse。 And when he came into the
scullery； he found her there； with the little wringer fixed on
the dolly…tub； turning blissfully at the handle； and Tilly
beside her； exclaiming：
〃My word； that's a natty little thing！ That'll save you
luggin' your inside out。 That's the latest contraption； that
is。〃
And Anna turned away at the handle； with great gusto of
possession。 Then she let Tilly have a turn。
〃It fair runs by itself；〃 said Tilly； turning on and on。
〃Your clothes'll nip out on to th' line。〃
CHAPTER V
WEDDING AT THE MARSH
It was a beautiful sunny day for the wedding； a muddy earth
but a bright sky。 They had three cabs and two big closed…in
vehicles。 Everybody crowded in the parlour in excitement。 Anna
was still upstairs。 Her father kept taking a nip of brandy。 He
was handsome in his black coat and grey trousers。 His voice was
hearty but troubled。 His wife came down in dark grey silk with
lace； and a touch of peacock…blue in her bonnet。 Her little body
was very sure and definite。 Brangwen was thankful she was there；
to sustain him among all these people。
The carriages！ The Nottingham Mrs。 Brangwen； in silk brocade；
stands in the doorway saying who must go with whom。 There is a
great bustle。 The front door is opened； and the wedding guests
are walking down the garden path； whilst those still waiting
peer through the window； and the little crowd at the gate gorps
and stretches。 How funny such dressed…up people look in the
winter sunshine！
They are gone……another lot！ There begins to be more
room。 Anna es down blushing and very shy； to be viewed in her
white silk and her veil。 Her mother…in…law surveys her
objectively； twitches the white train； arranges the folds of the
veil and asserts herself。
Loud exclamations from the window that the bridegroom's
carriage has just passed。
〃Where's your hat； father； and your gloves？〃 cries the bride；
stamping her white slipper； her eyes flashing through her veil。
He hunts round……his hair is ruffled。 Everybody has gone but
the bride and her father。 He is ready……his face very red
and daunted。 Tilly dithers in the little porch； waiting to open
the door。 A waiting woman walks round Anna； who asks：
〃Am I all right？〃
She is ready。 She bridles herself and looks queenly。 She
waves her hand sharply to her father：
〃e here！〃
He goes。 She puts her hand very lightly on his arm； and
holding her bouquet like a shower； stepping； oh； very
graciously； just a little impatient with her father for being so
red in the face； she sweeps slowly past the fluttering Tilly；
and down the path。 There are hoarse shouts at the gate； and all
her floating foamy whiteness passes slowly into the cab。
Her father notices her slim ankle and foot as she steps up： a
child's foot。 His heart is hard with tenderness。 But she is in
ecstasies with herself for making such a lovely spectacle。 All
the way she sat flamboyant with bliss because it was all so
lovely。 She looked down solicitously at her bouquet： white roses
and lilies…of…the…valley and tube…roses and maidenhair
fern……very rich and cascade…like。
Her father sat bewildered with all this strangeness； his
heart was so full it felt hard； and he couldn't think of
anything。
The church was decorated for Christmas； dark with evergreens；
cold and snowy with white flowers。 He went vaguely down to the
altar。 How long was it since he had gone to be married himself？
He was not sure whether he was going to be married now； or what
he had e for。 He had a troubled notion that he had to do
something or other。 He saw his wife's bonnet； and wondered why
she wasn't there with him。
They stood before the altar。 He was staring up at the east
window； that glowed intensely； a sort of blue purple： it was
deep blue glowing； and some crimson； and little yellow flowers
held fast in veins of shadow； in a heavy web of darkness。 How it
burned alive in radiance among its black web。
〃Who giveth this woman to be married to this man？〃 He felt
somebody touch him。 He started。 The words still re…echoed in his
memory； but were drawing off。
〃Me；〃 he said hastily。
Ann bent her head and smiled in her veil。 How absurd he
was。
Brangwen was staring away at the burning blue window at the
back of the altar； and wondering vaguely； with pain； if he ever
should get old； if he ever should feel arrived and established。
He was here at Anna's wedding。 Well； what right had he to feel
responsible； like a father？ He was still as unsure and unfixed
as when he had married himself。 His wife and he！ With a pang of
anguish he realized what uncertainties they both were。 He was a
man of forty…five。 Forty…five！ In five more years fifty。 Then
sixty……then seventy……then it was finished。 My
God……and one still was so unestablished！
How did one grow old…how could one bee confident？ He
wished he felt older。 Why； what difference was there； as far as
he felt matured or pleted； between him now and him at his own
wedding？ He might be getting married over again……he and his
wife。 He felt himself tiny； a little； upright figure on a plain
circled round with the immense； roaring sky： he and his wife；
two little； upright figures walking across this plain； whilst
the heavens shimmered and roared about them。 When did one e
to an end？ In which direction was it finished？ There was no end；
no finish； only this roaring vast space。 Did one never get old；
never die？ That was the clue。 He exulted strangely； with
torture。 He would go on with his wife； he and she like two
children camping in the plains。 What was sure but the endless
sky？ But that was so sure； so boundless。
Still the royal blue colour burned and blazed and sported
itself in the web of darkness before him； unwearyingly rich and
splendid。 How rich and splendid his own life was； red and
burning and blazing and sporting itself in the dark meshes of
his body： and his wife； how she glowed and burned dark within
her meshes！ Always it was so unfinished and unformed！
There was a loud noise of the organ。 The whole party was
trooping to the v