her any more。 Why could he not tell her any more？ She felt a
pang of disconsolate sadness。 But it was nothing。 She went to
him。
Her father came； and found them both very glowing； like an
open flower。 He loved to sit with them。 Where there was a
perfume of love； anyone who came must breathe it。 They were both
very quick and alive； lit up from the other…world； so that it
was quite an experience for them； that anyone else could
exist。
But still it troubled Will Brangwen a little； in his orderly；
conventional mind； that the established rule of things had gone
so utterly。 One ought to get up in the morning and wash oneself
and be a decent social being。 Instead； the two of them stayed in
bed till nightfall； and then got up； she never washed her face；
but sat there talking to her father as bright and shameless as a
daisy opened out of the dew。 Or she got up at ten o'clock； and
quite blithely went to bed again at three； or at half…past four；
stripping him naked in the daylight； and all so gladly and
perfectly； oblivious quite of his qualms。 He let her do as she
liked with him； and shone with strange pleasure。 She was to
dispose of him as she would。 He was translated with gladness to
be in her hands。 And dos； his
rules； his smaller beliefs； she scattered them like an expert
skittle…player。 He was very much astonished and delighted to see
them scatter。
He stood and gazed and grinned with wonder whilst his Tablets
of Stone went bounding and bumping and splintering down the
hill； dislodged for ever。 Indeed； it was true as they said； that
a man wasn't born before he was married。 What a change
indeed！
He surveyed the rind of the world： houses； factories； trams；
the discarded rind； people scurrying about； work going on； all
on the discarded surface。 An earthquake had burst it all from
inside。 It was as if the surface of the world had been broken
away entire： Ilkeston； streets； church； people； work；
rule…of…the…day； all intact； and yet peeled away into unreality；
leaving here exposed the inside； the reality： one's own being；
strange feelings and passions and yearnings and beliefs and
aspirations； suddenly bee present； revealed； the permanent
bedrock； knitted one rock with the woman one loved。 It was
confounding。 Things are not what they seem！ When he was a child；
he had thought a woman was a woman merely by virtue of her
skirts and petticoats。 And now； lo； the whole world could be
divested of its garment； the garment could lie there shed away
intact； and one could stand in a new world； a new earth； naked
in a new； naked universe。 It was too astounding and
miraculous。
This then was marriage！ The old things didn't matter any
more。 One got up at four o'clock； and had broth at tea…time and
made toffee in the middle of the night。 One didn't put on one's
clothes or one did put on one's clothes。 He still was not quite
sure it was not criminal。 But it was a discovery to find one
might be so supremely absolved。 All that mattered was that he
should love her and she should love him and they should live
kindled to one another； like the Lord in two burning bushes that
were not consumed。 And so they lived for the time。
She was less hampered than he； so she came more quickly to
her fulness； and was sooner ready to enjoy again a return to the
outside world。 She was going to give a tea…party。 His heart
sank。 He wanted to go on； to go on as they were。 He wanted to
have done with the outside world； to declare it finished for
ever。 He was anxious with a deep desire and anxiety that she
should stay with him where they were in the timeless universe of
free； perfect limbs and immortal breast； affirming that the old
outward order was finished。 The new order was begun to last for
ever； the living life； palpitating from the gleaming core； to
action； without crust or cover or outward lie。 But no； he could
not keep her。 She wanted the dead world again…she wanted to walk
on the outside once more。 She was going to give a tea…party。 It
made him frightened and furious and miserable。 He was afraid all
would be lost that he had so newly e into： like the youth in
the fairy tale； who was king for one day in the year； and for
the rest a beaten herd： like Cinderella also； at the feast。 He
was sullen。 But she blithely began to make preparations for her
tea…party。 His fear was too strong； he was troubled； he hated
her shallow anticipation and joy。 Was she not forfeiting the
reality； the one reality； for all that was shallow and
worthless？ Wasn't she carelessly taking off her crown to be an
artificial figure having other artificial women to tea： when she
might have been perfect with him； and kept him perfect； in the
land of intimate connection？ Now he must be deposed； his joy
must be destroyed； he must put on the vulgar； shallow death of
an outward existence。
He ground his soul in uneasiness and fear。 But she rose to a
real outburst of house…work； turning him away as she shoved the
furniture aside to her broom。 He stood hanging miserable near。
He wanted her back。 Dread； and desire for her to stay with him；
and shame at his own dependence on her drove him to anger。 He
began to lose his head。 The wonder was going to pass away again。
All the love； the magnificent new order was going to be lost；
she would forfeit it all for the outside things。 She would admit
the outside world again； she would throw away the living fruit
for the ostensible rind。 He began to hate this in her。 Driven by
fear of her departure into a state of helplessness； almost of
imbecility； he wandered about the house。
And she； with her skirts kilted up； flew round at her work；
absorbed。
〃Shake the rug then； if you must hang round；〃 she said。
And fretting with resentment； he went to shake the rug。 She
was blithely unconscious of him。 He came back； hanging near to
her。
〃Can't you do anything？〃 she said； as if to a child；
impatiently。 〃Can't you do your wood…work？〃
〃Where shall I do it？〃 he asked； harsh with pain。
〃Anywhere。〃
How furious that made him。
〃Or go for a walk；〃 she continued。 〃Go down to the Marsh。
Don't hang about as if you were only half there。〃
He winced and hated it。 He went away to read。 Never had his
soul felt so flayed and uncreated。
And soon he must e down again to her。 His hovering near
her； wanting her to be with him； the futility of him； the way
his hands hung； irritated her beyond bearing。 She turned on him
blindly and destructively； he became a mad creature； black and
electric with fury。 The dark storms rose in him； his eyes glowed
black and evil； he was fiendish in his thwarted soul。
There followed two black and ghastly days； when she was set
in anguish against him； and he felt as if he were in a black；
violent underworld； and his urderously。 And she
resisted him。 He seemed a dark； almost evil thing； pursuing her；
hanging on to her； burdening her。 She would give anything to
have him removed。
〃You need some work to do；〃 she said。 〃You ought to be at
work。 Can't you do something？〃
His soul only grew the blacker。 His condition now became
plete； the darkness of his soul was thorough。 Everything had
gone： he remained plete in his own tense； black will。 He was
now unaware of her。 She did not exist。 His dark； passionate soul
had recoiled upon itself； and now； clinched and coiled round a
centre of hatred； existed in its own power。 There was a
curiously ugly pallor； an expressionlessness in his face。 She
shuddered from him。 She was afraid of him。 His will seemed
grappled upon her。
She retreated before him。 She went down to the Marsh； she
entered again the immunity of her parents' love for her。 He
remained at Yew Cottage； black and clinched； his mind dead。 He
was unable to work at his wood…carving。 He went on working
monotonously at the garden； blindly； like a mole。
As she came home； up the hill； looking away at the town dim
and blue on the hill； her heart relaxed and became yearning。 She
did not want to fight him any more。 She wanted love……oh；
love。 Her feet began to hurry。 She wanted to get back to him。
Her heart became tight with yearning for him。
He had been making the garden in order； cutting the edges of
the turf； laying the path with stones。 He was a good； capable
workman。
〃How nice you've made it；〃 she said； approaching tentatively
down the path。
But he did not heed； he did not hear。 His brain was solid and
dead。
〃Haven't you made it nice？〃 she repeated； rather
plaintively。
He looked up at her； with that fixed； expressionless face and
unseeing eyes which shocked her； made her go dazed and blind。
Then he turned away。 She saw his slender； stooping figure
groping。 A revulsion came over her。 She went indoors。
As she took off her hat in the bedroom； she found herself
weeping bitterly； with some of the old； anguished； childish
desolation。 She sat still and cried on。 She did not want him to
know。 She was afraid of his hard； evil moments； the head dropped
a little； rigidly； in a crouching； cruel way。 She was afraid of
him。 He seemed to lacerate her sensitive femaleness。 He seemed
to hurt her womb； to take pleasure in torturing her。
He came into the house。 The sound of his footsteps in his
heavy boots