to hurt her womb； to take pleasure in torturing her。
He came into the house。 The sound of his footsteps in his
heavy boots filled her with horror： a hard； cruel； malignant
sound。 She was afraid he would e upstairs。 But he did not。
She waited apprehensively。 He went out。
Where she was most vulnerable； he hurt her。 Oh； where she was
delivered over to him； in her very soft femaleness； he seemed to
lacerate her and desecrate her。 She pressed her hands over her
womb in anguish； whilst the tears ran down her face。 And why；
and why？ Why was he like this？
Suddenly she dried her tears。 She must get the tea ready。 She
went downstairs and set the table。 When the meal was ready； she
called to him。
〃I've mashed the tea； Will； are you ing？〃
She herself could hear the sound of tears in her own voice；
and she began to cry again。 He did not answer； but went on with
his work。 She waited a few minutes； in anguish。 Fear came over
her； she was panic…stricken with terror； like a child； and she
could not go home again to her father； she was held by the power
in this man who had taken her。
She turned indoors so that he should not see her tears。 She
sat down to table。 Presently he came into the scullery。 His
movements jarred on her； as she heard them。 How horrible was the
way he pumped； exacerbating； so cruel！ How she hated to hear
him！ How he hated her！ How his hatred was like blows upon her！
The tears were ing again。
He came in； his face wooden and lifeless； fixed； persistent。
He sat down to tea； his head dropped over his cup； uglily。 His
hands were red from the cold water； and there were rims of earth
in his nails。 He went on with his tea。
It was his negative insensitiveness to her that she could not
bear； something clayey and ugly。 His intelligence was
self…absorbed。 How unnatural it was to sit with a self…absorbed
creature； like something negative ensconced opposite one。
Nothing could touch him……he could only absorb things into
his own self。
The tears were running down her face。 Something startled him；
and he was looking up at her with his hateful； hard； bright
eyes； hard and unchanging as a bird of prey。
〃What are you crying for？〃 came the grating voice。
She winced through her womb。 She could not stop crying。
〃What are you crying for？〃 came the question again； in just
the same tone。 And still there was silence； with only the sniff
of her tears。
His eyes glittered； and as if with malignant desire。 She
shrank and became blind。 She was like a bird being beaten down。
A sort of swoon of helplessness came over her。 She was of
another order than he； she had no defence against him。 Against
such an influence； she was only vulnerable； she was given
up。
He rose and went out of the house； possessed by the evil
spirit。 It tortured him and wracked him； and fought in him。 And
whilst he worked； in the deepening twilight； it left him。
Suddenly he saw that she was hurt。 He had only seen her
triumphant before。 Suddenly his heart was torn with passion
for her。 He became alive again； in an anguish of passion。 He
could not bear to think of her tears……he could not bear it。
He wanted to go to her and pour out his heart's blood to her。 He
wanted to give everything to her； all his blood； his life； to
the last dregs； pour everything away to her。 He yearned with
passionate desire to offer himself to her； utterly。
The evening star came； and the night。 She had not lighted the
lamp。 His heart burned with pain and with grief。 He trembled to
go to her。
And at last he went； hesitating； burdened with a great
offering。 The hardness had gone out of him； his body was
sensitive； slightly trembling。 His hand was curiously sensitive；
shrinking； as he shut the door。 He fixed the latch almost
tenderly。
In the kitchen was only the fireglow； he could not see her。
He quivered with dread lest she had gone……he knew not
where。 In shrinking dread； he went through to the parlour； to
the foot of the stairs。
〃Anna；〃 he called。
There was no answer。 He went up the stairs； in dread of the
empty house……the horrible emptiness that made his heart
ring with insanity。 He opened the bedroom door； and his heart
flashed with certainty that she had gone； that he was alone。
But he saw her on the bed； lying very still and scarcely
noticeable； with her back to him。 He went and put his hand on
her shoulder； very gently； hesitating； in a great fear and
self…offering。 She did not move。
He waited。 The hand that touched her shoulder hurt him； as if
she were sending it away。 He stood dim with pain。
〃Anna；〃 he said。
But still she was motionless； like a curled up； oblivious
creature。 His heart beat with strange throes of pain。 Then； by a
motion under his hand； he knew she was crying； holding herself
hard so that her tears should not be known。 He waited。 The
tension continued……perhaps she was not crying……then
suddenly relapsed with a sharp catch of a sob。 His heart flamed
with love and suffering for her。 Kneeling carefully on the bed；
so that his earthy boots should not touch it； he took her in his
arms to fort her。 The sobs gathered in her； she was sobbing
bitterly。 But not to him。 She was still away from him。
He held her against his breast； whilst she sobbed； withheld
from him； and all his body vibrated against her。
〃Don't cry……don't cry；〃 he said； with an odd simplicity。
His heart was calm and numb with a sort of innocence of love；
now。
She still sobbed； ignoring him； ignoring that he held her。
His lips were dry。
〃Don't cry； my love；〃 he said； in the same abstract way。 In
his breast his heart burned like a torch； with suffering。 He
could not bear the desolateness of her crying。 He would have
soothed her with his blood。 He heard the church clock chime； as
if it touched him； and he waited in suspense for it to have gone
by。 It was quiet again。
〃My love；〃 he said to her； bending to touch her wet face with
his mouth。 He was afraid to touch her。 How wet her face was！ His
body trembled as he held her。 He loved her till he felt his
heart and all his veins would burst and flood her with his hot；
healing blood。 He knew his blood would heal and restore her。
She was being quieter。 He thanked the God of mercy that at
last she was being quieter。 His head felt so strange and
blazed。 Still he held her close； with trembling arms。 His blood
seemed very strong； enveloping her。
And at last she began to draw near to him； she nestled to
him。 His limbs； his body； took fire and beat up in flames。 She
clung to him； she cleaved to his body。 The flames swept him； he
held her in sinews of fire。 If she would kiss him！ He bent his
mouth down。 And her mouth； soft and moist； received him。 He felt
his veins would burst with anguish of thankfulness； his heart
was mad with gratefulness； he could pour himself out upon her
for ever。
When they came to themselves； the night was very dark。 Two
hours had gone by。 They lay still and warm and weak； like the
new…born； together。 And there was a silence almost of the
unborn。 Only his heart was weeping happily； after the pain。 He
did not understand； he had yielded； given way。 There was
no understanding。 There could be only acquiescence and
submission； and tremulous wonder of consummation。
The next morning； when they woke up； it had snowed。 He
wondered what was the strange pallor in the air； and the unusual
tang。 Snow was on the grass and the window…sill； it weighed down
the black； ragged branches of the yews； and smoothed the graves
in the churchyard。
Soon； it began to snow again； and they were shut in。 He was
glad； for then they were immune in a shadowy silence； there was
no world； no time。
The snow lasted for some days。 On the Sunday they went to
church。 They made a line of footprints across the garden； he
left a flat snowprint of his hand on the wall as he vaulted
over； they traced the snow across the churchyard。 For three days
they had been immune in a perfect love。
There were very few people in church； and she was glad。 She
did not care much for church。 She had never questioned any
beliefs； and she was； from habit and custom； a regular attendant
at morning service。 But she had ceased to e with any
anticipation。 To…day； however； in the strangeness of snow； after
such consummation of love； she felt expectant again； and
delighted。 She was still in the eternal world。
She used； after she went to the High School； and wanted to be
a lady； wanted to fulfil some mysterious ideal； always to listen
to the sermon and to try to gather suggestions。 That was all
very well for a while。 The vicar told her to be good in this way
and in that。 She went away feeling it was her highest aim to
fulfil these injunctions。
But quickly this palled。 After a short time； she was not very
much interested in being good。 Her soul was in quest of
something； which was not just being good； and doing one's best。
No； she wanted something else： something that was not her
ready…made duty。 Everything seemed to be merely a matter of
social duty； and never of her self。 They talked about her soul；
but somehow never managed to rouse or to implicate her soul。 As
yet her soul was not brought in at all。
So that whilst she had an a