she fetched his seal in place of the old wooden stamper of
oak…leaves and acorns。 She was curiously excited to see how it
would turn out。 Strange； the uncouth bird moulded there； in the
cup…like hollow； with curious； thick waverings running inwards
from a smooth rim。 She pressed another mould。 Strange； to lift
the stamp and see that eagle…beaked bird raising its breast to
her。 She loved creating it over and over again。 And every time
she looked； it seemed a new thing e to life。 Every piece of
butter became this strange； vital emblem。
She showed it to her mother and father。
〃That is beautiful；〃 said her mother； a little light ing
on to her face。
〃Beautiful！〃 exclaimed the father； puzzled； fretted。 〃Why；
what sort of a bird does he call it？〃
And this was the question put by the customers during the
next weeks。
〃What sort of a bird do you call that； as you've got
on th' butter？〃
When he came in the evening； she took him into the dairy to
show him。
〃Do you like it？〃 he asked； in his loud； vibrating voice that
always sounded strange； re…echoing in the dark places of her
being。
They very rarely touched each other。 They liked to be alone
together； near to each other； but there was still a distance
between them。
In the cool dairy the candle…light lit on the large； white
surfaces of the cream pans。 He turned his head sharply。 It was
so cool and remote in there； so remote。 His mouth was open in a
little； strained laugh。 She stood with her head bent； turned
aside。 He wanted to go near to her。 He had kissed her once。
Again his eye rested on the round blocks of butter； where the
emblematic bird lifted its breast from the shadow cast by the
candle flame。 What was restraining him？ Her breast was near him；
his head lifted like an eagle's。 She did not move。 Suddenly；
ent； he put his arms
round her and drew her to him。 It was quick； cleanly done； like
a bird that swoops and sinks close； closer。
He was kissing her throat。 She turned and looked at him。 Her
eyes were dark and flowing with fire。 His eyes were hard and
bright with a fierce purpose and gladness； like a hawk's。 She
felt him flying into the dark space of her flames； like a brand；
like a gleaming hawk。
They had looked at each other； and seen each other strange；
yet near； very near； like a hawk stooping； swooping； dropping
into a flame of darkness。 So she took the candle and they went
back to the kitchen。
They went on in this way for some time； always ing
together； but rarely touching； very seldom did they kiss。 And
then； often； it was merely a touch of the lips； a sign。 But her
eyes began to waken with a constant fire； she paused often in
the midst of her transit； as if to recollect something； or to
discover something。
And his face became sombre； intent； he did not really hear
what was said to him。
One evening in August he came when it was raining。 He came in
with his jacket collar turned up； his jacket buttoned close； his
face wet。 And he looked so slim and definite； ing out of the
chill rain； she was suddenly blinded with love for him。 Yet he
sat and talked with her father and mother； meaninglessly； whilst
her blood seethed to anguish in her。 She wanted to touch him
now； only to touch him。
There was the queer； abstract look on her silvery radiant
face that maddened her father； her dark eyes were hidden。 But
she raised them to the youth。 And they were dark with a flare
that made him quail for a moment。
She went into the second kitchen and took a lantern。 Her
father watched her as she returned。
〃e with me； Will；〃 she said to her cousin。 〃I want to see
if I put the brick over where that rat es in。〃
〃You've no need to do that；〃 retorted her father。 She took no
notice。 The youth was between the two wills。 The colour mounted
into the father's face； his blue eyes stared。 The girl stood
near the door； her head held slightly back； like an indication
that the youth must e。 He rose； in his silent； intent way；
and was gone with her。 The blood swelled in Brangwen's forehead
veins。
It was raining。 The light of the lantern flashed on the
cobbled path and the bottom of the wall。 She came to a small
ladder； and climbed up。 He reached her the lantern； and
followed。 Up there in the fowl…loft； the birds sat in fat
bunches on the perches； the red bs shining like fire。 Bright；
sharp eyes opened。 There was a sharp crawk of expostulation as
one of the hens shifted over。 The cock sat watching； his yellow
neck…feathers bright as glass。 Anna went across the dirty floor。
Brangwen crouched in the loft watching。 The light was soft under
the red； naked tiles。 The girl crouched in a corner。 There was
another explosive bustle of a hen springing from her perch。
Anna came back； stooping under the perches。 He was waiting
for her near the door。 Suddenly she had her arms round him； was
clinging close to him； cleaving her body against his； and
crying； in a whispering； whimpering sound。
〃Will； I love you； I love you； Will； I love you。〃 It sounded
as if it were tearing her。
He was not even very much surprised。 He held her in his arms；
and his bones melted。 He leaned back against the wall。 The door
of the loft was open。 Outside； the rain slanted by in fine；
steely； mysterious haste； emerging out of the gulf of darkness。
He held her in his arms； and he and she together seemed to be
swinging in big； swooping oscillations； the two of them clasped
together up in the darkness。 Outside the open door of the loft
in which they stood； beyond them and below them； was darkness；
with a travelling veil of rain。
〃I love you； Will； I love you；〃 she moaned； 〃I love you；
Will。〃
He held her as thought they were one； and was silent。
In the house； Tom Brangwen waited a while。 Then he got up and
went out。 He went down the yard。 He saw the curious misty shaft
ing from the loft door。 He scarcely knew it was the light in
the rain。 He went on till the illumination fell on him dimly。
Then looking up； through the blurr； he saw the youth and the
girl together； the youth with his back against the wall； his
head sunk over the head of the girl。 The elder man saw them；
blurred through the rain； but lit up。 They thought themselves so
buried in the night。 He even saw the lighted dryness of the loft
behind； and shadows and bunches of roosting fowls； up in the
night； strange shadows cast from the lantern on the floor。
And a black gloom of anger； and a tenderness of
self…effacement； fought in his heart。 She did not understand
what she was doing。 She betrayed herself。 She was a child； a
mere child。 She did not know how much of herself she was
squandering。 And he was blackly and furiously miserable。 Was he
then an old man； that he should be giving her away in marriage？
Was he old？ He was not old。 He was younger than that young
thoughtless fellow in whose arms she lay。 Who knew her……he
or that blind…headed youth？ To whom did she belong； if not to
himself？
He thought again of the child he had carried out at night
into the barn； whilst his wife was in labour with the young Tom。
He remembered the soft； warm weight of the little girl on his
arm； round his neck。 Now she would say he was finished。 She was
going away； to deny him； to leave an unendurable emptiness in
him； a void that he could not bear。 Almost he hated her。 How
dared she say he was old。 He walked on in the rain； sweating
with pain； with the horror of being old； with the agony of
having to relinquish what was life to him。
Will Brangwen went home without having seen his uncle。 He
held his hot face to the rain； and walked on in a trance。 〃I
love you； Will； I love you。〃 The words repeated themselves
endlessly。 The veils had ripped and issued him naked into the
endless space； and he shuddered。 The walls had thrust him out
and given him a vast space to walk in。 Whither； through this
darkness of infinite space； was he walking blindly？ Where； at
the end of all the darkness； was God the Almighty still darkly；
seated； thrusting him on？ 〃I love you； Will； I love you。〃 He
trembled with fear as the words beat in his heart again。 And he
dared not think of her face； of her eyes which shone； and of her
strange； transfigured face。 The hand of the Hidden Almighty；
burning bright； had thrust out of the darkness and gripped him。
He went on subject and in fear； his heart gripped and burning
from the touch。
The days went by； they ran on dark…padded feet in silence。 He
went to see Anna； but again there had e a reserve between
them。 Tom Brangwen was gloomy； his blue eyes sombre。 Anna was
strange and delivered up。 Her face in its delicate colouring was
mute； touched dumb and poignant。 The mother bowed her head and
moved in her own dark world； that was pregnant again with
fulfilment。
Will Brangwen worked at his wood…carving。 It was a passion； a
passion for him to have the chisel under his grip。 Verily the
passion of his heart lifted the fine bite of steel。 He was
carving； as he had always wanted； the Creation of Eve。 It was a
panel in low relief； for a church。 Adam lay asleep as if
suffering； and God； a dim； large figure； stooped towards him；
stretching forward His unveiled hand； and Eve； a small vivid；
naked female shape； was issuing like a flame towards the hand of
God； from the torn side of Adam。
Now； Will Brangwen was working at the Eve。 She was thin； a
keen； unripe thing。 With trembling passion； fine as a breath of
air； he sent the chisel over her belly； her hard； unripe； small
belly。 She was a stiff little figure； with sharp lines； in the
throes and torture and ecstasy of her creation。 But he trembled
as he touched her。 He had not finished any of his figures。 There
was a bird on a bough overhead； lifting its wings for flight；
and a serpent wreathing up to it。 It was not finished yet。 He
trembled with passion； at last able to create the new； sharp
body of his Eve。
At the sides； at the far sides； at either end； were two
Angels covering their faces with their wings。 They were like
trees。 As he went to the Marsh； in the twilight； he felt that
the Angels； with covered faces； were standing back as he went
by。 The darkness was of their shadows and the covering of their
faces。 When he went through the Canal