on the outside once more。 She was going to give a teaparty。 It
made him frightened and furious and miserable。 He was afraid all
would be lost that he had so newly e into： like the youth in
the fairy tale； who was king for one day in the year； and for
the rest a beaten herd： like Cinderella also； at the feast。 He
was sullen。 But she blithely began to make preparations for her
teaparty。 His fear was too strong； he was troubled； he hated
her shallow anticipation and joy。 Was she not forfeiting the
reality； the one reality； for all that was shallow and
worthless？ Wasn't she carelessly taking off her crown to be an
artificial figure having other artificial women to tea： when she
might have been perfect with him； and kept him perfect； in the
land of intimate connection？ Now he must be deposed； his joy
must be destroyed； he must put on the vulgar； shallow death of
an outward existence。
He ground his soul in uneasiness and fear。 But she rose to a
real outburst of housework； turning him away as she shoved the
furniture aside to her broom。 He stood hanging miserable near。
He wanted her back。 Dread； and desire for her to stay with him；
and shame at his own dependence on her drove him to anger。 He
began to lose his head。 The wonder was going to pass away again。
All the love； the magnificent new order was going to be lost；
she would forfeit it all for the outside things。 She would admit
the outside world again； she would throw away the living fruit
for the ostensible rind。 He began to hate this in her。 Driven by
fear of her departure into a state of helplessness； almost of
imbecility； he wandered about the house。
And she； with her skirts kilted up； flew round at her work；
absorbed。
〃Shake the rug then； if you must hang round；〃 she said。
And fretting with resentment； he went to shake the rug。 She
was blithely unconscious of him。 He came back； hanging near to
her。
〃Can't you do anything？〃 she said； as if to a child；
impatiently。 〃Can't you do your woodwork？〃
〃Where shall I do it？〃 he asked； harsh with pain。
〃Anywhere。〃
How furious that made him。
〃Or go for a walk；〃 she continued。 〃Go down to the Marsh。
Don't hang about as if you were only half there。〃
He winced and hated it。 He went away to read。 Never had his
soul felt so flayed and uncreated。
And soon he must e down again to her。 His hovering near
her； wanting her to be with him； the futility of him； the way
his hands hung； irritated her beyond bearing。 She turned on him
blindly and destructively； he became a mad creature； black and
electric with fury。 The dark storms rose in him； his eyes glowed
black and evil； he was fiendish in his thwarted soul。
There followed two black and ghastly days； when she was set
in anguish against him； and he felt as if he were in a black；
violent underworld； and his urderously。 And she
resisted him。 He seemed a dark； almost evil thing； pursuing her；
hanging on to her； burdening her。 She would give anything to
have him removed。
〃You need some work to do；〃 she said。 〃You ought to be at
work。 Can't you do something？〃
His soul only grew the blacker。 His condition now became
plete； the darkness of his soul was thorough。 Everything had
gone： he remained plete in his own tense； black will。 He was
now unaware of her。 She did not exist。 His dark； passionate soul
had recoiled upon itself； and now； clinched and coiled round a
centre of hatred； existed in its own power。 There was a
curiously ugly pallor； an expressionlessness in his face。 She
shuddered from him。 She was afraid of him。 His will seemed
grappled upon her。
She retreated before him。 She went down to the Marsh； she
entered again the immunity of her parents' love for her。 He
remained at Yew Cottage； black and clinched； his mind dead。 He
was unable to work at his woodcarving。 He went on working
monotonously at the garden； blindly； like a mole。
As she came home； up the hill； looking away at the town dim
and blue on the hill； her heart relaxed and became yearning。 She
did not want to fight him any more。 She wanted loveoh；
love。 Her feet began to hurry。 She wanted to get back to him。
Her heart became tight with yearning for him。
He had been making the garden in order； cutting the edges of
the turf； laying the path with stones。 He was a good； capable
workman。
〃How nice you've made it；〃 she said； approaching tentatively
down the path。
But he did not heed； he did not hear。 His brain was solid and
dead。
〃Haven't you made it nice？〃 she repeated； rather
plaintively。
He looked up at her； with that fixed； expressionless face and
unseeing eyes which shocked her； made her go dazed and blind。
Then he turned away。 She saw his slender； stooping figure
groping。 A revulsion came over her。 She went indoors。
As she took off her hat in the bedroom； she found herself
weeping bitterly； with some of the old； anguished； childish
desolation。 She sat still and cried on。 She did not want him to
know。 She was afraid of his hard； evil moments； the head dropped
a little； rigidly； in a crouching； cruel way。 She was afraid of
him。 He seemed to lacerate her sensitive femaleness。 He seemed
to hurt her womb； to take pleasure in torturing her。
He came into the house。 The sound of his footsteps in his
heavy boots filled her with horror： a hard； cruel； malignant
sound。 She was afraid he would e upstairs。 But he did not。
She waited apprehensively。 He went out。
Where she was most vulnerable； he hurt her。 Oh； where she was
delivered over to him； in her very soft femaleness； he seemed to
lacerate her and desecrate her。 She pressed her hands over her
womb in anguish； whilst the tears ran down her face。 And why；
and why？ Why was he like this？
Suddenly she dried her tears。 She must get the tea ready。 She
went downstairs and set the table。 When the meal was ready； she
called to him。
〃I've mashed the tea； Will； are you ing？〃
She herself could hear the sound of tears in her own voice；
and she began to cry again。 He did not answer； but went on with
his work。 She waited a few minutes； in anguish。 Fear came over
her； she was panicstricken with terror； like a child； and she
could not go home again to her father； she was held by the power
in this man who had taken her。
She turned indoors so that he should not see her tears。 She
sat down to table。 Presently he came into the scullery。 His
movements jarred on her； as she heard them。 How horrible was the
way he pumped； exacerbating； so cruel！ How she hated to hear
him！ How he hated her！ How his hatred was like blows upon her！
The tears were ing again。
He came in； his face wooden and lifeless； fixed； persistent。
He sat down to tea； his head dropped over his cup； uglily。 His
hands were red from the cold water； and there were rims of earth
in his nails。 He went on with his tea。
It was his negative insensitiveness to her that she could not
bear； something clayey and ugly。 His intelligence was
selfabsorbed。 How unnatural it was to sit with a selfabsorbed
creature； like something negative ensconced opposite one。
Nothing could touch himhe could only absorb things into
his own self。
The tears were running down her face。 Something startled him；
and he was looking up at her with his hateful； hard； bright
eyes； hard and unchanging as a bird of prey。
〃What are you crying for？〃 came the grating voice。
She winced through her womb。 She could not stop crying。
〃What are you crying for？〃 came the question again； in just
the same tone。 And still there was silence； with only the sniff
of her tears。
His eyes glittered； and as if with malignant desire。 She
shrank and became blind。 She was like a bird being beaten down。
A sort of swoon of helplessness came over her。 She was of
another order than he； she had no defence against him。 Against
such an influence； she was only vulnerable； she was given
up。
He rose and went out of the house； possessed by the evil
spirit。 It tortured him and wracked him； and fought in him。 And
whilst he worked； in the deepening twilight； it left him。
Suddenly he saw that she was hurt。 He had only seen her
triumphant before。 Suddenly his heart was torn with passion
for her。 He became alive again； in an anguish of passion。 He
could not bear to think of her tearshe could not bear it。
He wanted to go to her and pour out his heart's blood to her。 He
wanted to give everything to her； all his blood； his life； to
the last dregs； pour everything away to her。 He yearned with
passionate desire to offer himself to her； utterly。
The evening star came； and the night。 She had not lighted the
lamp。 His heart burned with pain and with grief。 He trembled to
go to her。
And at last he went； hesitating； burdened with a great
offering。 The hardness had gone out of him； his body was
sensitive； slightly trembling。 His hand was curiously sensitive；
shrinking； as he shut the door。 He fixed the latch almost
tenderly。
In the kitchen was only the fireglow； he could not see her。
He quivered with dread lest she had gonehe knew not
where。 In shrinking dread； he went through to the parlour； to
the foot of the stairs。
〃Anna；〃 he called。
There was no answer。 He went up the stairs； in dread of the
empty housethe horrible emptiness that made his heart
ring with insanity。 He opened the bedroom door； and his heart
flashed with certainty that she had gone； that he was alone。
But he saw her on the bed； lying very still and scarcely
noticeable； with her back to him。 He went and put his hand on
her shoulder； very gently； hesitating； in a great fear and
selfoffering。 She did not move。
He waited。 The hand that touched her shoulder hurt him； as if
she were sending it away。 He stood dim with pain。
〃Anna；〃 he said。
But still she was motionless； like a curled up； oblivious
creature。 His heart beat with strange throes of pain。 Then； by a
motion under his hand； he knew she was crying； holding herself
hard so that her tears should not be known。 He waited。 The
tension continuedperhaps she was not cryingthen
suddenly relapsed with a sharp catch of a sob。 His heart flamed
with love and suffering for her。 Kneeling carefully on the bed；
so that his earthy boots should not touch it； he took her in his
arms to fort her