mornin' first thing。〃
〃Yes〃……the long…drawn foreign yes……〃yes；〃 said the
Polish woman； 〃I went to Mrs。 Brown's。 She hasn't any more。〃
Tilly bridled her head； bursting to say that； according to
the etiquette of people who bought butter； it was no sort of
manners whatever ing to a place cool as you like and knocking
at the front door asking for a pound as a stop…gap while your
other people were short。 If you go to Brown's you go to Brown's；
an' my butter isn't just to make shift when Brown's has got
none。
Brangwen understood perfectly this unspoken speech of
Tilly's。 The Polish lady did not。 And as she wanted butter for
the vicar； and as Tilly was churning in the morning； she
waited。
〃Sluther up now；〃 said Brangwen loudly after this silence had
resolved itself out； and Tilly disappeared through the inner
door。
〃I am afraid that I should not e； so；〃 said the stranger；
looking at him enquiringly； as if referring to him for what it
was usual to do。
He felt confused。
〃How's that？〃 he said； trying to be genial and being only
protective。
〃Do you？〃 she began deliberately。 But she was
not sure of her ground； and the conversation came to an end。 Her
eyes looked at him all the while； because she could not speak
the language。
They stood facing each other。 The dog walked away from her to
him。 He bent down to it。
〃And how's your little girl？〃 he asked。
〃Yes； thank you； she is very well；〃 was the reply； a phrase
of polite speech in a foreign language merely。
〃Sit you down；〃 he said。
And she sat in a chair； her slim arms； ing through the
slits of her cloak； resting on her lap。
〃You're not used to these parts；〃 he said； still standing on
the hearthrug with his back to the fire； coatless； looking with
curious directness at the woman。 Her self…possession pleased him
and inspired him； set him curiously free。 It seemed to him
almost brutal to feel so master of himself and of the
situation。
Her eyes rested on him for a moment； questioning； as she
thought of the meaning of his speech。
〃No；〃 she said； understanding。 〃No……it is strange。〃
〃You find it middlin' rough？〃 he said。
Her eyes waited on him； so that he should say it again。
〃Our ways are rough to you；〃 he repeated。
〃Yes……yes； I understand。 Yes； it is different； it is
strange。 But I was in Yorkshire〃
〃Oh； well then；〃 he said； 〃it's no worse here than what they
are up there。〃
She did not quite understand。 His protective manner； and his
sureness； and his intimacy； puzzled her。 What did he mean？ If he
was her equal； why did he behave so without formality？
〃No〃 she said； vaguely； her eyes resting on
him。
She saw him fresh and naive； uncouth； almost entirely
beyond relationship with her。 Yet he was good…looking； with his
fair hair and blue eyes full of energy； and with his healthy
body that seemed to take equality with her。 She watched him
steadily。 He was difficult for her to understand； warm； uncouth；
and confident as he was； sure on his feet as if he did not know
what it was to be unsure。 What then was it that gave him this
curious stability？
She did not know。 She wondered。 She looked round the room he
lived in。 It had a close intimacy that fascinated and almost
frightened her。 The furniture was old and familiar as old
people； the whole place seemed so kin to him； as if it partook
of his being； that she was uneasy。
〃It is already a long time that you have lived in this
house……yes？〃 she asked。
〃I've always lived here；〃 he said。
〃Yes……but your people……your family？〃
〃We've been here above two hundred years；〃 he said。 Her eyes
were on him all the time； wide…open and trying to grasp him。 He
felt that he was there for her。
〃It is your own place； the house； the
farm？〃
〃Yes；〃 he said。 He looked down at her and met her look。 It
disturbed her。 She did not know him。 He was a foreigner； they
had nothing to do with each other。 Yet his look disturbed her to
knowledge of him。 He was so strangely confident and direct。
〃You live quite alone？〃
〃Yes……if you call it alone？〃
She did not understand。 It seemed unusual to her。 What was
the meaning of it？
And whenever her eyes； after watching him for some time；
inevitably met his； she was aware of a heat beating up over her
consciousness。 She sat motionless and in conflict。 Who was this
strange man who was at once so near to her？ What was happening
to her？ Something in his young； warm…twinkling eyes seemed to
assume a right to her； to speak to her； to extend her his
protection。 But how？ Why did he speak to her？ Why were his eyes
so certain； so full of light and confident； waiting for no
permission nor signal？
Tilly returned with a large leaf and found the two silent。 At
once he felt it incumbent on him to speak； now the serving…woman
had e back。
〃How old is your little girl？〃 he asked。
〃Four years；〃 she replied。
〃Her father hasn't been dead long； then？〃 he asked。
〃She was one year when he died。〃
〃Three years？〃
〃Yes； three years that he is dead……yes。〃
Curiously quiet she was； almost abstracted； answering these
questions。 She looked at him again； with some maidenhood opening
in her eyes。 He felt he could not move； neither towards her nor
away from her。 Something about her presence hurt him； till he
was almost rigid before her。 He saw the girl's wondering look
rise in her eyes。
Tilly handed her the butter and she rose。
〃Thank you very much；〃 she said。 〃How much is it？〃
〃We'll make th' vicar a present of it；〃 he said。 〃It'll do
for me goin' to church。〃
〃It 'ud look better of you if you went to church and took th'
money for your butter；〃 said Tilly； persistent in her claim to
him。
〃You'd have to put in； shouldn't you？〃 he said。
〃How much； please？〃 said the Polish woman to Tilly。 Brangwen
stood by and let be。
〃Then； thank you very much；〃 she said。
〃Bring your little girl down sometime to look at th' fowls
and horses；〃 he said；……〃if she'd like it。〃
〃Yes； she would like it；〃 said the stranger。
And she went。 Brangwen stood dimmed by her departure。 He
could not notice Tilly； who was looking at him uneasily； wanting
to be reassured。 He could not think of anything。 He felt that he
had made some invisible connection with the strange woman。
A daze had e over his mind； he had another centre of
consciousness。 In his breast； or in his bowels； somewhere in his
body； there had started another activity。 It was as if a strong
light were burning there； and he was blind within it； unable to
know anything； except that this transfiguration burned between
him and her； connecting them； like a secret power。
Since she had e to the house he went about in a daze；
scarcely seeing even the things he handled； drifting； quiescent；
in a state of metamorphosis。 He submitted to that which was
happening to him； letting go his will； suffering the loss of
himself； dormant always on the brink of ecstasy； like a creature
evolving to a new birth。
She came twice with her child to the farm； but there was this
lull between them； an intense calm and passivity like a torpor
upon them； so that there was no active change took place。 He was
almost unaware of the child； yet by h