was dead。 Yet he knew perfectly well she was not。 He saw the way
her hair went loose over her temples; her mouth was shut with
suffering in a sort of grin。 She was beautiful to him……but
it was not human。 He had a dread of her as she lay there。 What
had she to do with him? She was other than himself。
Something made him go and touch her fingers that were still
grasped on the sheet。 Her brown…grey eyes opened and looked at
him。 She did not know him as himself。 But she knew him as the
man。 She looked at him as a woman in childbirth looks at the man
who begot the child in her: an impersonal look; in the extreme
hour; female to male。 Her eyes closed again。 A great; scalding
peace went over him; burning his heart and his entrails; passing
off into the infinite。
When her pains began afresh; tearing her; he turned aside;
and could not look。 But his heart in torture was at peace; his
bowels were glad。 He went downstairs; and to the door; outside;
lifted his face to the rain; and felt the darkness striking
unseen and steadily upon him。
The swift; unseen threshing of the night upon him silenced
him and he was overe。 He turned away indoors; humbly。 There
was the infinite world; eternal; unchanging; as well as the
world of life。
CHAPTER III
CHILDHOOD OF ANNA LENSKY
Tom Brangwen never loved his own son as he loved his
stepchild Anna。 When they told him it was a boy; he had a thrill
of pleasure。 He liked the confirmation of fatherhood。 It gave
him satisfaction to know he had a son。 But he felt not very much
outgoing to the baby itself。 He was its father; that was
enough。
He was glad that his wife was mother of his child。 She was
serene; a little bit shadowy; as if she were transplanted。 In
the birth of the child she seemed to lose connection with her
former self。 She became now really English; really Mrs。
Brangwen。 Her vitality; however; seemed lowered。