relaxation like sleep。 Her automatic consciousness gave way a
little； she stumbled sometimes； she had a poignant； momentary
vision of her living child； that hurt her unspeakably。 Her soul
roused to attention。
Very strange was the constant glitter of the sea unsheathed
in heaven； very warm and sweet the graveyard； in a nook of the
hill catching the sunshine and holding it as one holds a bee
between the palms of the hands； when it is benumbed。 Grey grass
and lichens and a little church； and snowdrops among coarse
grass； and a cupful of incredibly warm sunshine。
She was troubled in spirit。 Hearing the rushing of the beck
away down under the trees； she was startled； and wondered what
it was。 Walking down； she found the bluebells around her glowing
like a presence； among the trees。
Summer came； the moors were tangled with harebells like water
in the ruts of the roads； the heather came rosy under the skies；
setting the whole world awake。 And she was uneasy。 She went past
the gorse bushes shrinking from their presence； she stepped into
the heather as into a quickening bath that almost hurt。 Her
fingers moved over the clasped fingers of the child； she heard
the anxious voice of the baby； as it tried to make her talk；
distraught。
And she shrank away again； back into her darkness； and for a
long while remained blotted safely away from living。 But autumn
came with the faint red glimmer of robins singing； winter
darkened the moors； and almost savagely she turned again to
life； demanding her life back again； demanding that it should be
as it had been when she was a girl； on the land at home； under
the sky。 Snow lay in great expanses； the telegraph posts strode
over the white earth； away under the gloom of the sky。 And
savagely her desire rose in her again； demanding that this was
Poland； her youth； that all was her own again。
But there were no sledges nor bells； she did not see the
peasants ing out like new people； in their sheepskins and
their fresh； ruddy； bright faces； that seemed to bee new and
vivid when the snow lit up the ground。 It did not e to her；
the life of her youth； it did not e back。 There was a little
agony of struggle； then a relapse into the darkness of the
convent； where Satan and the devils raged round the walls； and
Christ was white on the cross of victory。
She watched from the sick…room the snow whirl past； like
flocks of shadows in haste； flying on some final mission out to
a leaden inalterable sea； beyond the final whiteness of the
curving shore； and the snow…speckled blackness of the rocks half
submerged。 But near at hand on the trees the snow was soft in
bloom。 Only the voice of the dying vicar spoke grey and
querulous from behind。
By the time the snowdrops were out； however； he was dead。 He
was dead。 But ity the returning woman
watched the snowdrops on the edge of the grass below； blown
white in the wind； but not to be blown away。 She watched them
fluttering and bobbing； the white； shut flowers； anchored by a
thread to the grey…green grass； yet never blown away； not
drifting with the wind。
As she rose in the morning； the dawn was beating up white；
gusts of light blown like a thin snowstorm from the east； blown
stronger and fiercer； till the rose appeared； and the gold； and
the sea lit up below。 She was impassive and indifferent。 Yet she
was outside the enclosure of darkness。
There passed a space of shadow again； the familiarity of
dread…worship； during which she was moved； oblivious； to
Cossethay。 There； at first； there was nothing……just grey
nothing。 But then one morning there was a light from the yellow
jasmine caught her； and after that； morning and evening； the
persistent ringing of thrushes from the shrubbery； till her
heart； beaten upon； was forced to lift up its voice in rivalry
and answer。 Little tunes came into her mind。 She was full of
trouble almost like anguish。 Resistant； she knew she was beaten；
and from fear of darkness turned to fear of light。 She would
have hidden herself indoors； if she could。 Above all； she craved
for the peace and heavy oblivion of her old state。 She could not
bear to e to； to realize。 The first pangs of this new
parturition were so acute； she knew she could not bear it。 She
would rather remain out of life； than be torn； mutilated into
this birth； which she could not survive。 She had not the
strength to e to life now； in England； so foreign； skies so
hostile。 She knew she would die like an early； colourless；
scentless flower that the end of the winter puts forth
mercilessly。 And she wanted to harbour her modicum of twinkling
life。
But a sunshiny day came full of the scent of a mezereon tree；
when bees were tumbling into the yellow crocuses； and she
forgot； she felt like somebody else； not herself； a new person；
quite glad。 But she knew it was fragile； and she dreaded it。 The
vicar put pea…flower into the crocuses； for his bees to roll in；
and she laughed。 Then night came； with brilliant stars that she
knew of old； from her girlhood。 And they flashed so bright； she
knew they were victors。
She could neither wake nor sleep。 As if crushed between the
past and the future； like a flower that es above…ground to
find a great stone lying above it； she was helpless。
The bewilderment and helplessness continued； she was
surrounded by great moving masses that must crush her。 And there
was no escape。 Save in the old obliviousness； the cold darkness
she strove to retain。 But the vicar showed her eggs in the
thrush's nest near the back door。 She saw herself the
mother…thrush upon the nest； and the way her wings were spread；
so eager down upon her secret。 The tense； eager； nesting wings
moved her beyond endurance。 She thought of them in the morning；
when she heard the thrush whistling as he got up； and she
thought； 〃Why didn't I die out there； why am I brought
here？〃
She was aware of people who passed around her； not as
persons； but as looming presences。 It was very difficult for her
to adjust herself。 In Poland； the peasantry； the people； had
been cattle to her； they had been her cattle that she owned and
used。 What were these people？ Now she was ing awake； she was
lost。
But she had felt Brangwen go by almost as if he had brushed
her。 She had tingled in body as she had gone on up the road。
After she had been with him in the Marsh kitchen； the voice of
her body had risen strong and insistent。 Soon； she wanted him。
He was the man who had e nearest to her for her
awakening。
Always； however； between…whiles she lapsed into the old
unconsciousness； indifference and there was a will in her to
save herself from living any more。 But she would wake in the
morning one day and feel her blood running； feel herself lying
open like a flower unsheathed in the sun； insistent and potent
with demand。
She got to know him better； and her instinct fixed on
him……just on him。 Her impulse was strong against him；
because he was not of her own sort。 But one blind instinct led
her； to take him； to leave him； and then to relinquish herself
to him。 It would be safety。 She felt the rooted safety of him；
and the life in him。 Also he was young and very fresh。 The blue；
stea