was like a scale or balance。 There was something of a woman in
all this。
In London he had been the favourite pupil of an engineer； a
clever man； who became well…known at the time when Tom Brangwen
had just finished his studies。 Through this master the youth
kept acquaintance with various individual； outstanding
characters。 He never asserted himself。 He seemed to be there to
estimate and establish the rest。 He was like a presence that
makes us aware of our own being。 So that he was while still
young connected with some of the most energetic scientific and
mathematical people in London。 They took him as an equal。 Quiet
and perceptive and impersonal as he was； he kept his place and
learned how to value others in just degree。 He was there like a
judgment。 Besides； he was very good…looking； of medium stature；
but beautifully proportioned； dark； with fine colouring； always
perfectly healthy。
His father allowed him a liberal pocket…money； besides which
he had a sort of post as assistant to his chief。 Then from time
to time the young man appeared at the Marsh； curiously
attractive； well…dressed； reserved； having by nature a subtle；
refined manner。 And he set the change in the farm。
Fred； the younger brother； was a Brangwen； large…boned；
blue…eyed； English。 He was his father's very son； the two men；
father and son； were supremely at ease with one another。 Fred
was succeeding to the farm。
Between the elder brother and the younger existed an almost
passionate love。 Tom watched over Fred with a woman's poignant
attention and self…less care。 Fred looked up to Tom as to
something miraculous； that which he himself would aspire to be；
were he great also。
So that after Anna's departure； the Marsh began to take on a
new tone。 The boys were gentlemen； Tom had a rare nature and had
risen high。 Fred was sensitive and fond of reading； he pondered
Ruskin and then the Agnostic writings。 Like all the Brangwens；
he was very much a thing to himself； though fond of people； and
indulgent to them； having an exaggerated respect for them。
There was a rather uneasy friendship between him and one of
the young Hardys at the Hall。 The two households were different；
yet the young men met on shy terms of equality。
It was young Tom Brangwen； with his dark lashes and beautiful
colouring； his soft； inscrutable nature； his strange repose and
his informed air； added to his position in London； who seemed to
emphasize the superior foreign element in the Marsh。 When he
appeared； perfectly dressed； as if soft and affable； and yet
quite removed from everybody； he created an uneasiness in
people； he was reserved in the minds of the Cossethay and
Ilkeston acquaintances to a different； remote world。
He and his mother had a kind of affinity。 The affection
between them was of a mute； distant character； but radical。 His
father was always uneasy and slightly deferential to his eldest
son。 Tom also formed the link that kept the Marsh in real
connection with the Skrebenskys； noportant people in
their own district。
So a change in tone came over the Marsh。 Tom Brangwen the
father； as he grew older； seemed to mature into a
gentleman…farmer。 His figure lent itself： burly and handsome。
His face remained fresh and his blue eyes as full of light； his
thick hair and beard had turned gradually to a silky whiteness。
It was his custom to laugh a great deal； in his acquiescent；
wilful manner。 Things had puzzled him very much； so he had taken
the line of easy； good…humoured acceptance。 He was not
responsible for the frame of things。 Yet he was afraid of the
unknown in life。
He was fairly well…off。 His wife was there with him； a
different being from himself； yet somewhere vitally connected
with him：……who was he to understand where and how？ His two
sons were gentlemen。 They were men distinct from himself； they
had separate beings of their own； yet they were connected with
himself。 It was all adventurous and puzzling。 Yet one remained
vital within one's own existence； whatever the off…shoots。
So； handsome and puzzled； he laughed and stuck to himself as
the only thing he could stick to。 His youngness and the wonder
remained almost the same in him。 He became indolent； he
developed a luxuriant ease。 Fred did most of the farm…work； the
father saw to the more important transactions。 He drove a good
mare； and sometimes he rode his cob。 He drank in the hotels and
the inns with better…class farmers and proprietors； he had
en。 But one class suited him no
better than another。
His wife； as ever； had no acquaintances。 Her hair was
threaded now with grey； her face grew older in form without
changing in expression。 She seemed the same as when she had e
to the Marsh twenty…five years ago； save that her health was
more fragile。 She seemed always to haunt the Marsh rather than
to live there。 She was never part of the life。 Something she
represented was alien there； she remained a stranger within the
gates； in some ways fixed and impervious； in some ways curiously
refining。 She caused the separateness and individuality of all
the Marsh inmates； the friability of the household。
When young Tom Brangwen was twenty…three years old there was
some breach between him and his chief which was never explained；
and he went away to Italy； then to America。 He came home for a
while； then went to Germany； always the same good…looking；
carefully…dressed； attractive young man； in perfect health； yet
somehow outside of everything。 In his dark eyes was a deep
misery which he wore with the same ease and pleasantness as he
wore his close…sitting clothes。
To Ursula he was a romantic； alluring figure。 He had a grace
of bringing beautiful presents： a box of expensive sweets； such
as Cossethay had never seen； or he gave her a hair…brush and a
long slim mirror of mother…of…pearl； all pale and glimmering and
exquisite； or he sent her a little necklace of rough stones；
amethyst and opal and brilliants and garnet。 He spoke other
languages easily and fluently； his nature was curiously gracious
and insinuating。 With all that； he was undefinably an outsider。
He belonged to nowhere； to no society。
Anna Brangwen had left her intimacy with her father
undeveloped since the time of her marriage。 At her marriage it
had been abandoned。 He and she had drawn a reserve between them。
Anna went more to her mother。
Then suddenly the father died。
It happened one springtime when Ursula was about eight years
old； he； Tom Brangwen； drove off on a Saturday morning to the
market in Nottingham； saying he might not be back till late； as
there was a special show and then a meeting he had to attend。
His family understood that he would enjoy himself。
The season had been rainy and dreary。 In the evening it was
pouring with rain。 Fred Brangwen； unsettled； uneasy； did not go
out； as was his wont。 He smoked and read and fidgeted； hearing
always the trickling of water outside。 This wet； black night
seemed to cut him off and make him unsettled； aware of himself；
aware that he wanted something else； aware that he was scarcely
living。 There seemed to him to be no root to his life； no place
for him to get satisfied in。 He dreamed of going abroad。 But his
instinct knew that change of place would not solve his problem。
He wanted change； deep； vital change of living。 And he did not
know how to get it。
Tilly； an old woman now； came in saying that the labourers
who had been suppering up said the yard and everywhere was just
a slew of water。 He heard in indifference。 But he hated a
desolate； raw wetness in the world。 He would leave the
Marsh。
His mother was in bed。 At last he shut his book； his mind was
blank； he walked upstairs intoxicated with depression and anger；
and； intoxicated with depression and anger； locked himself into
sleep。
Tilly set slippers before the kitchen fire； and she also went
to bed； leaving the door unlocked。 Then the farm was in
darkness； in the rain。
At eleven o'clock it was still raining。 Tom Brangwen stood in
the yard of the 〃Angel〃； Nottingham； and buttoned his coat。
〃Oh； well；〃 he said cheerfully； 〃it's rained on me before。
Put 'er in； Jack； my lad； put her in……Tha'rt a rare old
cock； Jacky…boy； wi' a belly on thee as does credit to thy
drink； if not to thy corn。 Co' up lass； let's get off ter th'
old homestead。 Oh； my heart； what a wetness in the night！
There'll be no volcanoes after this。 Hey； Jack； my beautiful
young slender feller； which of us is Noah？ It seems as though
the water…works is bursted。 Ducks and ayquatic fowl 'll be king
o' the castle at this rate……dove an' olive branch an' all。
Stand up then； gel； stand up； we're not stoppin' here all night；
even if you thought we was。 I'm dashed if the jumping rain
wouldn't make anybody think they was drunk。 Hey； Jack……does
rain…water wash the sense in； or does it wash it out？〃 And he
laughed to himself at the joke。
He was always ashamed when he had to drive after he had been
drinking； always apologetic to the horse。 His apologetic frame
made him facetious。 He was aware of his inability to walk quite
straight。 Nevertheless his will kept stiff and attentive； in all
his fuddleness。
He mounted and bowled off through the gates of the innyard。
The mare went well； he sat fixed； the rain beating on his face。
His heavy body rode motionless in a kind of sleep； one centre of
attention was kept fitfully burning； the rest was dark。 He
concentrated his last attention on the fact of driving along the
road he knew so well。 He knew it so well； he watched for it
attentively； with an effort of will。
He talked aloud to himself； sententious in his anxiety； as if
he were perfectly sober； whilst the mare bowled along and the
rain beat on him。 He watched the rain before the gig…lamps； the
faint gleaming of the shadowy horse's body； the passing of the
dark hedges。
〃It's not a fit night to turn a dog out；〃 he said to himself；
aloud。 〃It's high time as it did a bit of clearing up； I'll be
damned if it isn't。 It was a lot of use putting those ten loads
of cinders on th' road。 They'll be washed to kingdom…e if it
doesn't alter。 Well； it's our Fred's look…out； if they are。 He's
top…sawyer as far as those things go。 I don't