and made much of him； she said his limbs were beautiful； she was
fascinated by the physical form of him。
And she was indeed Anna Victrix。 He could not bat her any
more。 He was out in the wilderness； alone with her。 Having
occasion to go to London； he marvelled； as he returned； thinking
of naked； lurking savages on an island； how these had built up
and created the great mass of Oxford Street or Piccadilly。 How
had helpless savages； running with their spears on the
riverside； after fish； how had they e to rear up this great
London； the ponderous； massive； ugly superstructure of a world
of man upon a world of nature！ It frightened and awed him。 Man
was terrible； awful in his works。 The works of man were more
terrible than man himself； almost monstrous。
And yet； for his own part； for his private being； Brangwen
felt that the whole of the man's world was exterior and
extraneous to his own real life with Anna。 Sweep away the whole
monstrous superstructure of the world of to…day； cities and
industries and civilization； leave only the bare earth with
plants growing and waters running； and he would not mind； so
long as he were whole； had Anna and the child and the new；
strange certainty in his soul。 Then； if he were naked； he would
find clothing somewhere； he would make a shelter and bring food
to his wife。
And what more？ What more would be necessary？ The great mass
of activity in which mankind was engaged meant nothing to him。
By nature； he had no part in it。 What did he live for； then？ For
Anna only； and for the sake of living？ What did he want on this
earth？ Anna only； and his children； and his life with his
children and her？ Was there no more？
He was attended by a sense of something more； something
further； which gave him absolute being。 It was as if now he
existed in Eternity； let Time be what it might。 What was there
outside？ The fabricated world； that he did not believe in？ What
should he bring to her； from outside？ Nothing？ Was it enough； as
it was？ He was troubled in his acquiescence。 She was not with
him。 Yet he scarcely believed in himself； apart from her； though
the whole Infinite was with him。 Let the whole world slide down
and over the edge of oblivion； he would stand alone。 But he was
unsure of her。 And he existed also in her。 So he was unsure。
He hovered near to her； never quite able to forget the vague；
haunting uncertainty； that seemed to challenge him； and which he
would not hear。 A pang of dread； almost guilt； as of
insufficiency； would go over him as he heard her talking to the
baby。 She stood before the window； with the month…old child in
her arms； talking in a musical； young sing…song that he had not
heard before； and which rang on his heart like a claim from the
distance； or the voice of another world sounding its claim on
him。 He stood near； listening； and his heart surged； surged to
rise and submit。 Then it shrank back and stayed aloof。 He could
not move； a denial was upon him； as if he could not deny
himself。 He must； he must be himself。
〃Look at the silly blue…caps； my beauty；〃 she crooned；
holding up the infant to the window； where shone the white
garden； and the blue…tits scuffling in the snow： 〃Look at the
silly blue…caps； my darling； having a fight in the snow！ Look at
them； my bird……beating the snow about with their wings； and
shaking their heads。 Oh； aren't they wicked things； wicked
things！ Look at their yellow feathers on the snow there！ They'll
miss them； won't they； when they're cold later on。
〃Must we tell them to stop； must we say 'stop it' to them； my
bird？ But they are naughty； naughty！ Look at them！〃 Suddenly her
voice broke loud and fierce； she rapped the pane sharply。
〃Stop it；〃 she cried； 〃stop it； you little nuisances。 Stop
it！〃 She called louder； and rapped the pane more sharply。 Her
voice was fierce and imperative。
〃Have more sense；〃 she cried。
〃There； now they're gone。 Where have they gone； the silly
things？ What will they say to each other？ What will they say； my
lambkin？ They'll forget； won't they； they'll forget all about
it； out of their silly little heads； and their blue caps。〃
After a moment； she turned her bright face to her
husband。
〃They were really fighting； they were really fierce
with each other！〃 she said； her voice keen with excitement and
wonder； as if she belonged to the birds' world； were identified
with the race of birds。
〃Ay； they'll fight； will blue…caps；〃 he said； glad when she
turned to him with her glow from elsewhere。 He came and stood
beside her and looked out at the marks on the snow where the
birds had scuffled； and at the yew trees' burdened； white and
black branches。 What was the appeal it made to him； what was the
question of her bright face； what was the challenge he was
called to answer？ He did not know。 But as he stood there he felt
some responsibility which made him glad； but uneasy； as if he
must put out his own light。 And he could not move as yet。
Anna loved the child very much； oh； very much。 Yet still she
was not quite fulfilled。 She had a slight expectant feeling； as
of a door half opened。 Here she was； safe and still in
Cossethay。 But she felt as if she were not in Cossethay at all。
She was straining her eyes to something beyond。 And from her
Pisgah mount； which she had attained； what could she see？ A
faint； gleaming horizon； a long way off； and a rainbow like an
archway； a shadow…door with faintly coloured coping above it。
Must she be moving thither？
Something she had not； something she did not grasp； could not
arrive at。 There was something beyond her。 But why must she
start on the journey？ She stood so safely on the Pisgah
mountain。
In the winter； when she rose with the sunrise； and out of the
back windows saw the east flaming yellow and orange above the
green； glowing grass； while the great pear tree in between stood
dark and magnificent as an idol； and under the dark pear tree；
the little sheet of water spread smooth in burnished； yellow
light； she said； 〃It is here〃。 And when； at evening； the sunset
came in a red glare through the big opening in the clouds； she
said again； 〃It is beyond〃。
Dawn and sunset were the feet of the rainbow that spanned the
day； and she saw the hope； the promise。 Why should she travel
any further？
Yet she always asked the question。 As the sun went down in
his fiery winter haste； she faced the blazing close of the
affair； in which she had not played her fullest part； and she
made her demand still： 〃What are you doing； making this big
shining motion？ What is it that you keep so busy about； that
you will not let us alone？〃
She did not turn to her husband； for him to lead her。 He was
apart from her； with her； according to her different conceptions
of him。 The child she might hold up； she might toss the child
forward into the furnace； the child might walk there； amid the
burning coals and the incandescent roar of heat； as the three
witnesses walked with the angel in the fire。
Soon； she felt sure of her husband。 She knew his dark face
and the extent of its passion。 She knew his slim； vigorous body；
she said it was hers。 Then there was no denying her。 She was a
rich woman enjoying her riches。
And soon again she was with child。 Which made her satisfied
and took away her discontent。 She forgot that she had watched
the sun climb up and pass his way； a magnificent traveller
surging forward。 She forgot that the moon had looked through a
window of the high； dark night； and nodded like a magic
recognition； signalled to her to follow。 Sun and moon travelled
on； and left her； passed her by； a rich woman enjoying her
riches。 She should go also。 But she could not go； when they
called； because she must stay at home now。 With satisfaction she
relinquished the adventure to the unknown。 She was bearing her
children。
There was another child ing； and Anna lapsed into vague
content。 If she were not the wayfarer to the unknown； if she
were arrived now； settled in her builded house； a rich woman；
still her doors opened under the arch of the rainbow； her
threshold reflected the passing of the sun and moon； the great
travellers； her house was full of the echo of journeying。
She was a door and a threshold； she herself。 Through her
another soul was ing； to stand upon her as upon the
threshold； looking out； shading its eyes for the direction to
take。
CHAPTER VII
THE CATHEDRAL
During the first year of her marriage； before Ursula was
born； Anna Brangwen and her husband went to visit her mother's
friend； the Baron Skrebensky。 The latter had kept a slight
connection with Anna's mother； and had always preserved some
officious interest in the young girl； because she was a pure
Pole。
When Baron Skrebensky was about forty years old； his wife
died； and left him raving； disconsolate。 Lydia had visited him
then； taking Anna with her。 It was when the girl was fourteen
years old。 Since then she had not seen him。 She remembered him
as a small sharp clergyman who cried and talked and terrified
her； whilst her mother was most strangely consoling； in a
foreign language。
The little Baron never quite approved of Anna； because she
spoke no Polish。 Still； he considered himself in some way her
guardian； on Lensky's behalf； and he presented her with some
old； heavy Russian jewellery； the least valuable of his wife's
relics。 Then he lapsed out of the Brangwen's life again； though
he lived only about thirty miles away。
Three years later came the startling news that he had married
a young English girl of good family。 Everybody marvelled。 Then
came a copy of 〃The History of the Parish of Briswell； by
Rudolph； Baron Skrebensky； Vicar of Briswell。〃 It was a curious
book； incoherent； full of interesting exhumations。 It was
dedicated： 〃To my wife； Millicent Maud Pearse； in whom I embrace
the generous spirit of England。〃
〃If he embraces no more than the spirit of England；〃 said Tom
Brangwen； 〃it's a bad look…out for him。〃
But paying a formal visit with his wife； he found the new
Baroness a little； creamy…skinned； insidious thing with
red…brown hair and a mouth that one must always watch； because
it curved back continually in an inprehensible； strange lau