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in himself； of life； and of urgent； strong blood。
She was sure to e at last； and touch him。 Then he burst
into flame for her； and lost himself。 They looked at each other；
a deep laugh at the bottom of their eyes； and he went to take of
her again； wholesale； mad to revel in the inexhaustible wealth
of her； to bury himself in the depths of her in an inexhaustible
exploration； she all the while revelling in that he revelled in
her； tossed all her secrets aside and plunged to that which was
secret to her as well； whilst she quivered with fear and the
last anguish of delight。
What did it matter who they were； whether they knew each
other or not？
The hour passed away again； there was severance between them；
and rage and misery and bereavement for her； and deposition and
toiling at the mill with slaves for him。 But no matter。 They had
had their hour； and should it chime again； they were ready for
it； ready to renew the game at the point where it was left off；
on the edge of the outer darkness； when the secrets within the
woman are game for the man； hunted doggedly； when the secrets of
the woman are the man's adventure； and they both give themselves
to the adventure。
She was with child； and there was again the silence and
distance between them。 She did not want him nor his secrets nor
his game； he was deposed； he was cast out。 He seethed with fury
at the small； uglymouthed woman who had nothing to do with him。
Sometimes his anger broke on her； but she did not cry。 She
turned on him like a tiger； and there was battle。
He had to learn to contain himself again； and he hated it。 He
hated her that she was not there for him。 And he took himself
off； anywhere。
But an instinct of gratitude and a knowledge that she would
receive him back again； that later on she would be there for him
again； prevented his straying very far。 He cautiously did not go
too far。 He knew she might lapse into ignorance of him； lapse
away from him； farther； farther； farther； till she was lost to
him。 He had sense enough； premonition enough in himself； to be
aware of this and to measure himself accordingly。 For he did not
want to lose her： he did not want her to lapse away。
Cold； he called her； selfish； only caring about herself； a
foreigner with a bad nature； caring really about nothing； having
no proper feelings at the bottom of her； and no proper niceness。
He raged； and piled up accusations that had some measure of
truth in them all。 But a certain grace in him forbade him from
going too far。 He knew； and he quivered with rage and hatred；
that she was all these vile things； that she was everything vile
and detestable。 But he had grace at the bottom of him； which
told him that； above all things； he did not want to lose her； he
was not going to lose her。
So he kept some consideration for her； he preserved some
relationship。 He went out more often； to the 〃Red Lion〃 again；
to escape the madness of sitting next to her when she did not
belong to him； when she was as absent as any woman in
indifference could be。 He could not stay at home。 So he went to
the 〃Red Lion〃。 And sometimes he got drunk。 But he preserved his
measure； some things between them he never forfeited。
A tormented look came into his eyes； as if something were
always dogging him。 He glanced sharp and quick； he could not
bear to sit still doing nothing。 He had to go out； to find
pany； to give himself away there。 For he had no other outlet；
he could not work to give himself out； he had not the
knowledge。
As the months of her pregnancy went on； she left him more and
more alone； she was more and more unaware of him； his existence
was annulled。 And he felt bound down； bound； unable to stir；
beginning to go mad； ready to rave。 For she was quiet and
polite； as if he did not exist； as one is quiet and polite to a
servant。
Nevertheless she was great with his child； it was his turn to
submit。 She sat opposite him； sewing； her foreign face
inscrutable and indifferent。 He felt he wanted to break her into
acknowledgment of him； into awareness of him。 It was
insufferable that she had so obliterated him。 He would smash her
into regarding him。 He had a raging agony of desire to do
so。
But something bigger in him withheld him； kept him
motionless。 So he went out of the house for relief。 Or he turned
to the little girl for her sympathy and her love； he appealed
with all his power to the small Anna。 So soon they were like
lovers； father and child。
For he was afraid of his wife。 As she sat there with bent
head； silent； working or reading； but so unutterably silent that
his heart seemed under the millstone of it； she became herself
like the upper millstone lying on him； crushing him； as
sometimes a heavy sky lies on the earth。
Yet he knew he could not tear her away from the heavy
obscurity into which she was merged。 He must not try to tear her
into recognition of himself； and agreement with himself。 It were
disastrous； impious。 So； let him rage as he might； he must
withhold himself。 But his wrists trembled and seemed mad； seemed
as if they would burst。
When； in November； the leaves came beating against the window
shutters； with a lashing sound； he started； and his eyes
flickered with flame。 The dog looked up at him； he sunk his head
to the fire。 But his wife was startled。 He was aware of her
listening。
〃They blow up with a rattle；〃 he said。
〃What？〃 she asked。
〃The leaves。〃
She sank away again。 The strange leaves beating in the wind
on the wood had e nearer than she。 The tension in the room
was overpowering； it was difficult for him to move his head。 He
sat with every nerve； every vein； every fibre of muscle in his
body stretched on a tension。 He felt like a broken arch thrust
sickeningly out from support。 For her response was gone； he
thrust at nothing。 And he remained himself； he saved himself
from crashing down into nothingness； from being squandered into
fragments； by sheer tension； sheer backward resistance。
During the last months of her pregnancy； he went about in a
surcharged； imminent state that did not exhaust itself。 She was
also depressed； and sometimes she cried。 It needed so much life
to begin afresh； after she had lost so lavishly。 Sometimes she
cried。 Then he stood stiff； feeling his heart would burst。 For
she did not want him； she did not want even to be made aware of
him。 By the very puckering of her face he knew that he must
stand back； leave her intact； alone。 For it was the old grief
e back in her； the old loss； the pain of the old life； the
dead husband； the dead children。 This was sacred to her； and he
must not violate her with his fort。 For what she wanted she
would e to him。 He stood aloof with turgid heart。
He had to see her tears e； fall over her scarcely moving
face； that only puckered sometimes； down on to her breast； that
was so still； scarcely moving。 And there was no noise； save now
and again； when； with a strange； somnambulant movement； she took
her handkerchief and wiped her face and blew her nose； and went
on with the noiseless weeping。 He knew that any offer of fort
from himself would be worse than useless； hateful to her；
jangling her。 She must cry。 But it drove him insane。 His heart
was scalded； his brain hurt in his head； he went away； out of
the house。
His great and chiefest source of solace was the child。 She
had been at first aloof from him； reserved。 However friendly she
might seem one day； the next she would have lapsed to her
original disregard of him； cold； detached； at her distance。
The first morning after his marriage he had discovered it
would not be so easy with the child。 At the break of dawn he had
started awake hearing a small voice outside the door saying
plaintively：
〃Mother！〃
He rose and opened the door。 She stood on the threshold in
her nightdress； as she had climbed out of bed； black eyes
staring round and hostile； her fair hair sticking out in a wild
fleece。 The man and child confronted each other。
〃I want my mother；〃 she said； jealously accenting the
〃my〃。
〃e on then；〃 he said gently。
〃Where's my mother？〃
〃She's heree on。〃
The child's eyes； staring at the man with ruffled hai