k himself in its hush as a stone sinks
into water.

He went across his garden, mounted the wall by the little
steps, and entered the hush and peace of the church. As the
heavy door clanged to behind him, his feet re-echoed in the
aisle, his heart re-echoed with a little passion of tenderness
and mystic peace. He was also slightly ashamed, like a man who
has failed, who lapses back for his fulfilment.

He loved to light the candles at the organ, and sitting there
alone in the little glow, practice the hymns and chants for the
service. The whitewashed arches retreated into darkness, the
sound of the organ and the organ-pedals died away upon the
unalterable stillness of the church, there were faint, ghostly
noises in the tower, and then the music swelled out again,
loudly, triumphantly.

He ceased to fret about his life. He relaxed his will, and
let everything go. What was between him and his wife was a great
thing, if it was not everything. She had conquered, really. Let
him wait, and abide, wait and abide. She and the baby and
himself, they were one. The organ rang out his protestation. His
soul lay in the darkness as he pressed the keys of the
organ.

To Anna, the baby was a complete bliss and fulfilment. Her
desires sank into abeyance, her soul was in bliss over the baby.
It was rather a delicate child, she had trouble to rear it. She
never for a moment thought it would die. It was a delicate
infant, therefore it behoved her to make it strong. She threw
herself into the labour, the child was everything. Her
imagination was all occupied here. She was a mother. It was
enough to handle the new little limbs, the new little body, hear
the new little voice crying in the stillness. All the future
rang to her out of the sound of the baby's crying and cooing,
she balanced the coming years of life in her hands, as she
nursed the child. The passionate sense of fulfilment, of the
future germinated in her, made her vivid and powerful. All the
future was in her hands, in the hands of the woman. And before
this baby was ten months old, she was again with child. She
seemed to be in the fecund of storm life, every moment was full
and busy with productiveness to her. She felt like the earth,
the mother of everything.

Brangwen occupied himself with the church, he played the
organ, he trained the choir-boys, he taught a Sunday-school
class of youths. He was happy enough. There was an eager,
yearning kind of happiness in him as