小说园

第39部分（第3页）

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　he　taught　the　boys　on

Sundays。　He　was　all　the　time　exciting　himself　with　the　proximity

of　some　secret　that　he　had　not　yet　fathomed。

In　the　house；　he　served　his　wife　and　the　little　matriarchy。

She　loved　him　because　he　was　the　father　of　her　children。　And　she

always　had　a　physical　passion　for　him。　So　he　gave　up　trying　to

have　the　spiritual　superiority　and　control；　or　even　her　respect

for　his　conscious　or　public　life。　He　lived　simply　by　her

physical　love　for　him。　And　he　served　the　little　matriarchy；

nursing　the　child　and　helping　with　the　housework；　indifferent

any　more　of　his　own　dignity　and　importance。　But　his　abandoning

of　claims；　his　living　isolated　upon　his　own　interest；　made　him

seem　unreal；　unimportant。

Anna　was　not　publicly　proud　of　him。　But　very　soon　she　learned

to　be　indifferent　to　public　life。　He　was　not　what　is　called　a

manly　man：　he　did　not　drink　or　smoke　or　arrogate　importance。　But

he　was　her　man；　and　his　very　indifference　to　all　claims　of

manliness　set　her　supreme　in　her　own　world　with　him。　Physically；

she　loved　him　and　he　satisfied　her。　He　went　alone　and　subsidiary

always。　At　first　it　had　irritated　her；　the　outer　world　existed

so　little　to　him。　Looking　at　him　with　outside　eyes；　she　was

inclined　to　sneer　at　him。　But　her　sneer　changed　to　a　sort　of

respect。　She　respected　him；　that　he　could　serve　her　so　simply

and　pletely。　Above　all；　she　loved　to　bear　his　children。　She

loved　to　be　the　source　of　children。

She　could　not　understand　him；　his　strange；　dark　rages　and　his

devotion　to　the　church。　It　was　the　church　building　he　cared　for；

and　yet　his　soul　was　passionate　for　something。　He　laboured

cleaning　the　stonework；　repairing　the　woodwork；　restoring　the

organ；　and　making　the　singing　as　perfect　as　possible。　To　keep

the　church　fabric　and　the　church…ritual　intact　was　his　business；

to　have　the　intimate　sacred　building　utterly　in　his　own　hands；

and　to　make　the　form　of　service　plete。　There　was　a　little

bright　anguish　and　tension　on　his　face；　and　in　his　intent

movements。　He　was　like　a　lover　who　knows　he　is　betrayed；　but　who

still　loves；　whose　love　is　only　the　more　intense。　The　church　was