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 wrists quivered murderously. 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
complete, the darkness of his soul was thorough. Everything had
gone: he remained complete 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 wood-carving. 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 love--oh,
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 wa