the undiscovered and the undiscoverable。 He pored over the
pictures intensely。 And these were wooden statues；
〃Holz〃he believed that meant wood。 Wooden statues so
shapen to his soul！ He was a million times gladdened。 How
undiscovered the world was； how it revealed itself to his soul！
What a fine； exciting thing his life was； at his hand！ Did not
Bamberg Cathedral make the world his own？ He celebrated his
triumphant strength and life and verity； and embraced the vast
riches he was inheriting。
But it was about time to go home。 He had better catch a
train。 All the time there was a steady bruise at the bottom of
his soul； but so steady as to be fettable。 He caught a train
for Ilkeston。
It was ten o'clock as he was mounting the hill to Cossethay；
carrying his limp book on Bamberg Cathedral。 He had not yet
thought of Anna； not definitely。 The dark finger pressing a
bruise controlled him thoughtlessly。
Anna had started guiltily when he left the house。 She had
hastened preparing the tea； hoping he would e back。 She had
made some toast； and got all ready。 Then he didn't e。 She
cried with vexation and disappointment。 Why had he gone？ Why
couldn't he e back now？ Why was it such a battle between
them？ She loved himshe did love himwhy couldn't he
be kinder to her； nicer to her？
She waited in distressthen her mood grew harder。 He
passed out of her thoughts。 She had considered indignantly； what
right he had to interfere with her sewing？ She had indignantly
refuted his right to interfere with her at all。 She was not to
be interfered with。 Was she not herself； and he the
outsider。
Yet a quiver of fear went through her。 If he should leave
her？ She sat conjuring fears and sufferings； till she wept with
very selfpity。 She did not know what she would do if he left
her； or if he turned against her。 The thought of it chilled her；
made her desolate and hard。 And against him； the stranger； the
outsider； the being who wanted to arrogate authority； she
remained steadily fortified。 Was she not herself？ How could one
who was not of her own kind presume with authority？ She knew she
was immutable； unchangeable； she was not afraid for her own
being。 She was only afraid of all that was not herself。 It
pressed round her； it came to her and took part in her； in form
of her man； this vast； resounding； alien world which was not
herself。 And he had so many weapons； he might strike from so
many sides。
When he came in at the door； his heart was blazed with pity
and tenderness； she looked so lost and forlorn and young。 She
glanced up； afraid。 And she was surprised to see him；
shiningfaced； clear and beautiful in his movements； as if he
were clarified。 And a startled pang of fear； and shame of
herself went through her。
They waited for each other to speak。
〃Do you want to eat anything？〃 she said。
〃I'll get it myself；〃 he answered； not wanting her to serve
him。 But she brought out food。 And it pleased him she did it for
him。 He was again a bright lord。
〃I went to Nottingham；〃 he said mildly。
〃To your mother？〃 she asked； in a flash of contempt。
〃NoI didn't go home。〃
〃Who did you go to see？〃
〃I went to see nobody。〃
〃Then why did you go to Nottingham？〃
〃I went because I wanted to go。〃
He was getting angry that she again rebuffed him when he was
so clear and shining。
〃And who did you see？〃
〃I saw nobody。〃
〃Nobody？〃
〃Nowho should I see？〃
〃You saw nobody you knew？〃
〃No； I didn't；〃 he replied irritably。
She believed him； and her mood became cold。
〃I bought a book；〃 he said； handing her the propitiatory
volume。
She idly looked at the pictures。 Beautiful； the pure women；
with their cleardropping gowns。 Her heart became colder。 What
did they mean to him？
He sat and waited for her。 She bent over the book。
〃Aren't they nice？〃 he said； his voice roused and glad。 Her
blood flushed； but she did not lift her head。
〃Yes；〃 she said。 In spite of herself； she was pelled by
him。 He was strange； attractive； exerting some power over
her。
He came over to her； and touched her delicately。 Her heart
beat with wild passion； wild raging passion。 But she resisted as
yet。 It was always the unknown； always the unknown； and she
clung fiercely to her known self。 But the rising flood carried
her away。
They loved each other to transport again； passionately and
fully。
〃Isn't it more wonderful than ever？〃 she asked him； radiant
like a newly opened flower； with tears like dew。
He held her closer。 He was strange and abstracted。
〃It is always more wonderful；〃 she asseverated； in a glad；
child's voice； remembering her fear； and not quite cleared of it
yet。
So it went on continually； the recurrence of love and
conflict between them。 One day it seemed as if everything was
shattered； all life spoiled； ruined； desolate and laid waste。
The next day it was all marvellous again； just marvellous。 One
day she thought she would go mad from his very presence； the
sound of his drinking was detestable to her。 The next day she
loved and rejoiced in the way he crossed the floor； he was sun；
moon and stars in one。
She fretted； however； at last； over the lack of stability。
When the perfect hours came back； her heart did not fet that
they would pass away again。 She was uneasy。 The surety； the
surety； the inner surety； the confidence in the abidingness of
love： that was what she wanted。 And that she did not get。 She
knew also that he had not got it。
Nevertheless it was a marvellous world； she was for the most
part lost in the marvellousness of it。 Even her great woes were
marvellous to her。
She could be very happy。 And she wanted to be happy。 She
resented it when he made her unhappy。 Then she could kill him；
cast him out。 Many days； she waited for the hour when he would
be gone to work。 Then the flow of her life； which he seemed to
damn up； was let loose； and she was free。 She was free； she was
full of delight。 Everything delighted her。 She took up the rug
and went to shake it in the garden。 Patches of snow were on the
fields； the air was light。 She heard the ducks shouting on the
pond； she saw them charge and sail across the water as if they
were setting off on an invasion of the world。 She watched the
rough horses； one of which was clipped smooth on the belly； so
that he wore a jacket and long stockings of brown fur； stand
kissing each other in the wintry morning by the churchyard
wall。 Everything delighted her； now he was gone； the insulator；
the obstruction removed； the world was all hers； in connection
with her。
She was joyfully active。 Nothing pleased her more than to
hang out the washing in a high wind that came fullbutt over the
round of the hill； tearing the wet garments out of her hands；
making flapflapflap of the waving stuff。 She laughed and
struggled and grew angry。 But she loved her solitary days。
Then he came home at night； and she knitted her brows because
of some endless contest between them。 As he stood in the doorway
her heart changed。 It steeled itself。 The laughter and zest of
the day disappeared from her。 She was stiffened。
They fought an unknown battle； unconsciously。 Still they were
in love with each other； the passion was there。 But the passion
was consumed in a battle。 And the deep； fierce unnamed battle
went on。 Everything glowed intensely about them； the world had
put off its clothes and was awful； with new； primal
nakedness。
Sunday came when the strange spell was cast over her by him。
Half she loved it。 She was being more like him。 All the
weekdays； there was a glint of sky and fields； the little
church seemed to babble away to the cottages the morning
through。 But on Sundays； when he stayed at home； a
deeplycoloured； intense gloom seemed to gather on the face of
the earth； the church seemed to fill itself with shadow； to
bee big； a universe to her； there was a burning of blue and
ruby； a sound of worship about her。 And when the doors were
opened； and she came out into the world； it was a world
newcreated； she stepped into the resurrection of the
world； her heart beating to the memory of the darkness and the
Passion。
If； as very often； they went to the Marsh for tea on Sundays；
then she regained another； lighter world； that had never known
the gloom and the stained glass and the ecstasy of chanting。 Her
husband was obliterated； she was with her father again； who was
so fresh and free and all daylight。 Her husband； with his
intensity and his darkness； was obliterated。 She left him； she
fot him； she accepted her father。
Yet； as she went home again with the young man； she put her
hand on his arm tentatively； a little bit ashamed； her hand
pleaded that he would not hold it against her； her recusancy。
But he was obscured。 He seemed to bee blind； as if he were
not there with her。
Then she was afraid。 She wanted him。 When he was oblivious of
her； she almost went mad with fear。 For she had bee so
vulnerable； so exposed。 She was in touch so intimately。 All
things about her had bee intimate； she had known them near
and lovely； like presences hovering upon her。 What if they
should all go hard and separate again； standing back from her
terrible and distinct； and she； having known them； should be at
their mercy？
This frightened her。 Always； her husband was to her the
unknown to which she was delivered up。 She was a flower that has
been tempted forth into blossom； and has no retreat。 He had her
nakedness in his power。 And who was he； what was he？ A blind
thing； a dark force； without knowledge。 She wanted to preserve
herself。
Then she gathered him to herself again and was satisfied for
a moment。 But as time went on； she began to realize more and
more that he did not alter； that he was something dark； alien to
herself。 She had thought him just the bright reflex of herself。
As the weeks and months went by she realized that he was a dark
opposite to her； that they were opposites； not plements。
He did not alter； he remained separately himself； and he
seemed to expect her to be part of himself； the extension of his
will。 She felt him trying to gain power over her； without
knowing her。 What did he want？ Was he going to bully her？
What did she want herse