tern, above
the branching horns of the cows, she would stand watching his
hands squeezing rhythmically the teats of the placid beast,
watch the froth and the leaping squirt of milk, watch his hand
sometimes rubbing slowly, understandingly, upon a hanging udder.
So they kept each other company, but at a distance, rarely
speaking.

The darkest days of the year came on, the child was fretful,
sighing as if some oppression were on her, running hither and
thither without relief. And Brangwen went about at his work,
heavy, his heart heavy as the sodden earth.

The winter nights fell early, the lamp was lighted before
tea-time, the shutters were closed, they were all shut into the
room with the tension and stress. Mrs. Brangwen went early to
bed, Anna playing on the floor beside her. Brangwen sat in the
emptiness of the downstairs room, smoking, scarcely conscious
even of his own misery. And very often he went out to escape
it.

Christmas passed, the wet, drenched, cold days of January
recurred monotonously, with now and then a brilliance of blue
flashing in, when Brangwen went out into a morning like crystal,
when every sound rang again, and the birds were many and sudden
and brusque in the hedges. Then an elation came over him in
spite of everything, whether his wife were strange or sad, or
whether he craved for her to be with him, it did not matter, the
air rang with clear noises, the sky was like crystal, like a
bell, and the earth was hard. Then he worked and was happy, his
eyes shining, his cheeks flushed. And the zest of life was
strong in him.

The birds pecked busily round him, the horses were fresh and
ready, the bare branches of the trees flung themselves up like a
man yawning, taut with energy, the twigs radiated off into the
clear light. He was alive and full of zest for it all. And if
his wife were heavy, separated from him, extinguished, then, let
her be, let him remain himself. Things would be as they would
be. Meanwhile he heard the ringing crow of a cockerel in the
distance, he saw the pale shell of the moon effaced on a blue
sky.

So he shouted to the horses, and was happy. If, driving into
Ilkeston, a fresh young woman were going in to do her shopping,
he hailed her, and reined in his horse, and picked her up. Then
he was glad to have her near him, his eyes shone, his voice,
laughing, teasing in a warm fashion, made the poise of her head
more beautiful, her blood ran quicker. They were both
stim