so that his earthy boots should not touch it； he took her in his
arms to fort her。 The sobs gathered in her； she was sobbing
bitterly。 But not to him。 She was still away from him。
He held her against his breast； whilst she sobbed； withheld
from him； and all his body vibrated against her。
〃Don't crydon't cry；〃 he said； with an odd simplicity。
His heart was calm and numb with a sort of innocence of love；
now。
She still sobbed； ignoring him； ignoring that he held her。
His lips were dry。
〃Don't cry； my love；〃 he said； in the same abstract way。 In
his breast his heart burned like a torch； with suffering。 He
could not bear the desolateness of her crying。 He would have
soothed her with his blood。 He heard the church clock chime； as
if it touched him； and he waited in suspense for it to have gone
by。 It was quiet again。
〃My love；〃 he said to her； bending to touch her wet face with
his mouth。 He was afraid to touch her。 How wet her face was！ His
body trembled as he held her。 He loved her till he felt his
heart and all his veins would burst and flood her with his hot；
healing blood。 He knew his blood would heal and restore her。
She was being quieter。 He thanked the God of mercy that at
last she was being quieter。 His head felt so strange and
blazed。 Still he held her close； with trembling arms。 His blood
seemed very strong； enveloping her。
And at last she began to draw near to him； she nestled to
him。 His limbs； his body； took fire and beat up in flames。 She
clung to him； she cleaved to his body。 The flames swept him； he
held her in sinews of fire。 If she would kiss him！ He bent his
mouth down。 And her mouth； soft and moist； received him。 He felt
his veins would burst with anguish of thankfulness； his heart
was mad with gratefulness； he could pour himself out upon her
for ever。
When they came to themselves； the night was very dark。 Two
hours had gone by。 They lay still and warm and weak； like the
newborn； together。 And there was a silence almost of the
unborn。 Only his heart was weeping happily； after the pain。 He
did not understand； he had yielded； given way。 There was
no understanding。 There could be only acquiescence and
submission； and tremulous wonder of consummation。
The next morning； when they woke up； it had snowed。 He
wondered what was the strange pallor in the air； and the unusual
tang。 Snow was on the grass and the windowsill； it weighed down
the black； ragged branches of the yews； and smoothed the graves
in the churchyard。
Soon； it began to snow again； and they were shut in。 He was
glad； for then they were immune in a shadowy silence； there was
no world； no time。
The snow lasted for some days。 On the Sunday they went to
church。 They made a line of footprints across the garden； he
left a flat snowprint of his hand on the wall as he vaulted
over； they traced the snow across the churchyard。 For three days
they had been immune in a perfect love。
There were very few people in church； and she was glad。 She
did not care much for church。 She had never questioned any
beliefs； and she was； from habit and custom； a regular attendant
at morning service。 But she had ceased to e with any
anticipation。 Today； however； in the strangeness of snow； after
such consummation of love； she felt expectant again； and
delighted。 She was still in the eternal world。
She used； after she went to the High School； and wanted to be
a lady； wanted to fulfil some mysterious ideal； always to listen
to the sermon and to try to gather suggestions。 That was all
very well for a while。 The vicar told her to be good in this way
and in that。 She went away feeling it was her highest aim to
fulfil these injunctions。
But quickly this palled。 After a short time； she was not very
much interested in being good。 Her soul was in quest of
something； which was not just being good； and doing one's best。
No； she wanted something else： something that was not her
readymade duty。 Everything seemed to be merely a matter of
social duty； and never of her self。 They talked about her soul；
but somehow never managed to rouse or to implicate her soul。 As
yet her soul was not brought in at all。
So that whilst she had an affection for Mr。 Loverseed； the
vicar； and a protective sort of feeling for Cossethay church；
wanting always to help it and defend it； it counted very small
in her life。
Not but that she was conscious of some unsatisfaction。 When
her husband was roused by the thought of the churches； then she
became hostile to the ostensible church； she hated it for not
fulfilling anything in her。 The Church told her to be good： very
well； she had no idea of contradicting what it said。 The Church
talked about her soul； about the welfare of mankind； as if the
saving of her soul lay in her performing certain acts conducive
to the welfare of mankind。 Well and goodit was so； then。
Nevertheless； as she sat in church her face had a pathos and
poignancy。 Was this what she had e to hear： how by doing this
thing and by not doing that； she could save her soul？ She did
not contradict it。 But the pathos of her face gave the lie。
There was something else she wanted to hear； it was something
else she asked for from the Church。
But who was she to affirm it？ And what was she doing
with unsatisfied desires？ She was ashamed。 She ignored them and
left them out of count as much as possible； her underneath
yearnings。 They angered her。 She wanted to be like other people；
decently satisfied。
He angered her more than ever。 Church had an irresistible
attraction for him。 And he paid no more attention to that part
of the service which was Church to her； than if he had been an
angel or a fabulous beast sitting there。 He simply paid no heed
to the sermon or to the meaning of the service。 There was
something thick； dark； dense； powerful about him that irritated
her too deeply for her to speak of it。 The Church teaching in
itself meant nothing to him。 〃And five us our trespasses as
we five them that trespass against us〃it simply did
not touch him。 It might have been more sounds； and it would have
acted upon him in the same way。 He did not want things to be
intelligible。 And he did not care about his trespasses； neither
about the trespasses of his neighbour； when he was in church。
Leave that care for weekdays。 When he was in church； he took no
more notice of his daily life。 It was weekday stuff。 As for the
welfare of mankindhe merely did not realize that there
was any such thing： except on weekdays； when he was goodnatured
enough。 In church； he wanted a dark； nameless emotion； the
emotion of all the great mysteries of passion。
He was not interested in the thought of himself or of
her： oh； and how that irritated her！ He ignored the sermon； he
ignored the greatness of mankind； he did not admit the immediate
importance of mankind。 He did not care about himself as a human
being。 He did not attach any vital importance to his life in the
drafting office； or his life among men。 That was just merely the
margin to the text。 The verity was his connection with Anna and
his connection with the Church； his real being lay in his dark
emotional experience of the Infinite； of the Absolute。 And the
great mysterious； illuminated capitals to the text； were his
feelings with the Church。
It exasperated her beyond measure。 She could not get out of
the Church the satisfaction he got。 The thought of her soul was
intimately mixed up with the thought of her own self。 Indeed；
her soul and her own self were one and the same in her。 Whereas
he seemed simply to ignore the fact of his own self； almost to
refute it。 He had a soula dark； inhuman thing caring
nothing for humanity。 So she conceived it。 And in the gloom and
the mystery of the Church his soul lived and ran free； like some
strange； underground thing； abstract。
He was very strange to her； and； in this church spirit； in
conceiving himself as a soul； he seemed to escape and run free
of her。 In a way； she envied it him； this dark freedom and
jubilation of the soul； some strange entity in him。 It
fascinated her。 Again she hated it。 And again； she despised him；
wanted to destroy it in him。
This snowy morning； he sat with a darkbright face beside
her； not aware of her； and somehow； she felt he was conveying to
strange； secret places the love that sprang in him for her。 He
sat with a darkrapt； halfdelighted face； looking at a little
stained window。 She saw the rubycoloured glass； with the shadow
heaped along the bottom from the snow outside； and the familiar
yellow figure of the lamb holding the banner； a little darkened
now； but in the murky interior strangely luminous； pregnant。
She had always liked the little red and yellow window。 The
lamb； looking very silly and selfconscious； was holding up a
forepaw； in the cleft of which was dangerously perched a little
flag with a red cross。 Very pale yellow； the lamb； with greenish
shadows。 Since she was a child she had liked this creature； with
the same feeling she felt for the little woolly lambs on green
legs that children carried home from the fair every year。 She
had always liked these toys； and she had the same amused；
childish liking for this church lamb。 Yet she had always been
uneasy about it。 She was never sure that this lamb with a flag
did not want to be more than it appeared。 So she half mistrusted
it； there was a mixture of dislike in her attitude to it。
Now； by a curious gathering； knitting of his eyes； the
faintest tension of ecstasy on his face； he gave her the
unfortable feeling that he was in correspondence with the
creature； the lamb in the window。 A cold wonder came over
herher soul was perplexed。 There he sat； motionless；
timeless； with the faint； bright tension on his face。 What was
he doing？ What connection was there between him and the lamb in
the glass？
Suddenly it gleamed to her dominant； this lamb with the flag。
Suddenly she had a powerful mystic experience； the power of the
tradition seized on her； she was transported to another world。
And she hated it； resisted it。
Instantly； it was only a silly lamb in the glass again。 And
dark； violent hatred of her husband swept up in her。 What was he
doing； sitting there gleaming