free of other people； towards whom； on the whole； she took the
benevolent attitude。 She deeply hated ugliness or intrusion or
arrogance； however。 As a child； she was as proud and shadowy as
a tiger； and as aloof。 She could confer favours； but； save from
her mother and father； she could receive none。 She hated people
who came too near to her。 Like a wild thing； she wanted her
distance。 She mistrusted intimacy。
In Cossethay and Ilkeston she was always an alien。 She had
plenty of acquaintances； but no friends。 Very few people whom
she met were significant to her。 They seemed part of a herd；
undistinguished。 She did not take people very seriously。
She had two brothers； Tom； darkhaired； small； volatile； whom
she was intimately related to but whom she never mingled with；
and Fred； fair and responsive； whom she adored but did not
consider as a real； separate thing。 She was too much the centre
of her own universe； too little aware of anything outside。
The first person she met； who affected her as a real；
living person； whom she regarded as having definite existence；
was Baron Skrebensky； her mother's friend。 He also was a Polish
exile； who had taken orders； and had received from Mr。 Gladstone
a small country living in Yorkshire。
When Anna was about ten years old； she went with her mother
to spend a few days with the Baron Skrebensky。 He was very
unhappy in his redbrick vicarage。 He was vicar of a country
church； a living worth a little over two hundred pounds a year；
but he had a large parish containing several collieries； with a
new； raw； heathen population。 He went to the north of England
expecting homage from the mon people； for he was an
aristocrat。 He was roughly； even cruelly received。 But he never
understood it。 He remained a fiery aristocrat。 Only he had to
learn to avoid his parishioners。
Anna was very much impressed by him。 He was a smallish man
with a rugged； rather crumpled face and blue eyes set very deep
and glowing。 His wife was a tall thin woman； of noble Polish
family； mad with pride。 He still spoke broken English； for he
had kept very close to his wife； both of them forlorn in this
strange； inhospitable country； and they always spoke in Polish
together。 He was disappointed with Mrs。 Brangwen's soft； natural
English； very disappointed that her child spoke no Polish。
Anna loved to watch him。 She liked the big； new； rambling
vicarage； desolate and stark on its hill。 It was so exposed； so
bleak and bold after the Marsh。 The Baron talked endlessly in
Polish to Mrs。 Brangwen； he made furious gestures with his
hands； his blue eyes were full of fire。 And to Anna； there was a
significance about his sharp； flinging movements。 Something in
her responded to his extravagance and his exuberant manner。 She
thought him a very wonderful person。 She was shy of him； she
liked him to talk to her。 She felt a sense of freedom near
him。
She never could tell how she knew it； but she did know that
he was a knight of Malta。 She could never remember whether she
had seen his star； or cross； of his order or not； but it flashed
in her mind； like a symbol。 He at any rate represented to the
child the real world； where kings and lords and princes moved
and fulfilled their shining lives； whilst queens and ladies and
princesses upheld the noble order。
She had recognized the Baron Skrebensky as a real person； he
had had some regard for her。 But when she did not see him any
more； he faded and became a memory。 But as a memory he was
always alive to her。
Anna became a tall； awkward girl。 Her eyes were still very
dark and quick； but they had grown careless； they had lost their
watchful； hostile look。 Her fierce； spun hair turned brown； it
grew heavier and was tied back。 She was sent to a young ladies'
school in Nottingham。
And at this period she was absorbed in being a young lady。
She was intelligent enough； but not interested in learning。 At
first； she thought all the girls at school very ladylike and
wonderful； and she wanted to be like them。 She came to a speedy
disillusion： they galled and maddened her； they were petty and
mean。 After the loose； generous atmosphere of her home； where
little things did not count； she was always uneasy in the world；
that would snap and bite at every trifle。
A quick change came over her。 She mistrusted herself； she
mistrusted the outer world。 She did not want to go on； she did
not want to go out into it； she wanted to go no further。
〃What do I care about that lot of girls？〃 she would
say to her father； contemptuously； 〃they are nobody。〃
The trouble was that the girls would not accept Anna at her
measure。 They would have her according to themselves or not at
all。 So she was confused； seduced； she became as they were for a
time； and then； in revulsion； she hated them furiously。
〃Why don't you ask some of your girls here？〃 her father would
say。
〃They're not ing here；〃 she cried。
〃And why not？〃
〃They're bagatelle；〃 she said； using one of her mother's rare
phrases。
〃Bagatelles or billiards； it makes no matter； they're nice
young lasses enough。〃
But Anna was not to be won over。 She had a curious shrinking
from monplace people； and particularly from the young lady of
her day。 She would not go into pany because of the
illatease feeling other people brought upon her。 And she never
could decide whether it were her fault or theirs。 She half
respected these other people； and continuous disillusion
maddened her。 She wanted to respect them。 Still she thought the
people she did not know were wonderful。 Those she knew seemed
always to be limiting her； tying her up in little falsities that
irritated her beyond bearing。 She would rather stay at home and
avoid the rest of the world； leaving it illusory。
For at the Marsh life had indeed a certain freedom and
largeness。 There was no fret about money； no mean little
precedence； nor care for what other people thought； because
neither Mrs。 Brangwen nor Brangwen could be sensible of any
judgment passed on them from outside。 Their lives were too
separate。
So Anna was only easy at home； where the mon sense and the
supreme relation between her parents produced a freer standard
of being than she could find outside。 Where； outside the Marsh；
could she find the tolerant dignity she had been brought up in？
Her parents stood undiminished and unaware of criticism。 The
people she met outside seemed to begrudge her her very
existence。 They seemed to want to belittle her also。 She was
exceedingly reluctant to go amongst them。 She depended upon her
mother and her father。 And yet she wanted to go out。
At school； or in the world； she was usually at fault； she
felt usually that she ought to be slinking in disgrace。 She
never felt quite sure； in herself； whether she were wrong； or
whether the others were wrong。 She had not done her lessons：
well； she did not see any reason why she should do her
lessons； if she did not want to。 Was there some occult reason
why she should？ Were these people； schoolmistresses；
representatives of some mystic Right； some Higher Good？ They
seemed to think so themselves。 But she could not for her life
see why a woman should bully and insult her because she did not
know thirty lines of As You Like It。 After all； what did
it matter if she knew them or not？ Nothing could persuade her
that it was of the slightest importance。 Because she despised
inwardly the coarsely working nature of the mistress。 Therefore
she was always at outs with authority。 From constant telling；
she came almost to believe in her own badness； her own intrinsic
inferiority。 She felt that she ought always to be in a state of
slinking disgrace； if she fulfilled what was expected of her。
But she rebelled。 She never really believed in her own badness。
At the bottom of her heart she despised the other people； who
carped and were loud over trifles。 She despised them； and wanted
revenge on them。 She hated them whilst they had power over
her。
Still she kept an ideal： a free； proud lady absolved from the
petty ties； existing beyond petty considerations。 She would see
such ladies in pictures： Alexandra； Princess of Wales； was one
of her models。 This lady was proud and royal； and stepped
indifferently over all small； mean desires： so thought Anna； in
her heart。 And the girl did up her hair high under a little
slanting hat； her skirts were fashionably bunched up； she wore
an elegant； skinfitting coat。
Her father was delighted。 Anna was very proud in her bearing；
too naturally indifferent to smaller bonds to satisfy Ilkeston；
which would have liked to put her down。 But Brangwen was having
no such thing。 If she chose to be royal； royal she should be。 He
stood like a rock between her and the world。
After the fashion of his family； he grew stout and handsome。
His blue eyes were full of light； twinkling and sensitive； his
manner was deliberate； but hearty； warm。 His capacity for living
his own life without attention from his neighbours made them
respect him。 They would run to do anything for him。 He did not
consider them； but was openhanded towards them； so they made
profit of their willingness。 He liked people； so long as they
remained in the background。
Mrs。 Brangwen went on in her own way； following her own
devices。 She had her husband； her two sons and Anna。 These
staked out and marked her horizon。 The other people were
outsiders。 Inside her own world； her life passed along like a
dream for her； it lapsed； and she lived within its lapse； active
and always pleased； intent。 She scarcely noticed the outer
things at all。 What was outside was outside； nonexistent。 She
did not mind if the boys fought； so long as it was out of her
presence。 But if they fought when she was by； she was angry； and
they were afraid of her。 She did not care if they broke a window
of a railway carriage or sold their watches to have a revel at
the Goose Fair。 Brangwen was perhaps angry over these things。 To
the mother they were insignificant。 It was odd little things
that offended her。 She was furious if the boys hung around the
slaughterhouse； she was displeased when the school reports were
bad。 It did not matter how many sins her boys were accused of；