you？〃 she mocked； with a tinkle of profane laughter。 And she
laughed with malicious triumph。
She had got free from the cathedral； she had even destroyed
the passion he had。 She was glad。 He was bitterly angry。 Strive
as he would； he could not keep the cathedral wonderful to him。
He was disillusioned。 That which had been his absolute；
containing all heaven and earth； was bee to him as to her； a
shapely heap of dead matter……but dead； dead。
His mouth was full of ash； his soul was furious。 He hated her
for having destroyed another of his vital illusions。 Soon he
would be stark； stark； without one place wherein to stand；
without one belief in which to rest。
Yet somewhere in him he responded more deeply to the sly
little face that knew better； than he had done before to the
perfect surge of his cathedral。
Nevertheless for the time being his soul was wretched and
homeless； and he could not bear to think of Anna's ousting him
from his beloved realities。 He wanted his cathedral； he wanted
to satisfy his blind passion。 And he could not any more。
Something intervened。
They went home again； both of them altered。 She had some new
reverence for that which he wanted； he felt that his cathedrals
would never again be to him as they had been。 Before； he had
thought them absolute。 But now he saw them crouching under the
sky； with still the dark； mysterious world of reality inside；
but as a world within a world； a sort of side show； whereas
before they had been as a world to him within a chaos： a
reality； an order； an absolute； within a meaningless
confusion。
He had felt； before； that could he but go through the great
door and look down the gloom towards the far…off； concluding
wonder of the altar； that then； with the windows suspended
around like tablets of jewels； emanating their own glory； then
he had arrived。 Here the satisfaction he had yearned after came
near； towards this； the porch of the great Unknown； all reality
gathered； and there； the altar was the mystic door； through
which all and everything must move on to eternity。
But now； somehow； sadly and disillusioned； he realized that
the doorway was no doorway。 It was too narrow； it was false。
Outside the cathedral were many flying spirits that could never
be sifted through the jewelled gloom。 He had lost his
absolute。
He listened to the thrushes in the gardens and heard a note
which the cathedrals did not include： something free and
careless and joyous。 He crossed a field that was all yellow with
dandelions； on his way to work； and the bath of yellow glowing
was something at once so sumptuous and so fresh； that he was
glad he was away from his shadowy cathedral。
There was life outside the Church。 There was much that the
Church did not include。 He thought of God； and of the whole blue
rotunda of the day。 That was something great and free。 He
thought of the ruins of the Grecian worship； and it seemed； a
temple was never perfectly a temple； till it was ruined and
mixed up with the winds and the sky and the herbs。
Still he loved the Church。 As a symbol； he loved it。 He
tended it for what it tried to represent； rather than for that
which it did represent。 Still he loved it。 The little church
across his garden…wall drew him； he gave it loving attention。
But he went to take charge of it； to preserve it。 It was as an
old； sacred thing to him。 He looked after the stone and
woodwork； mending the organ and restoring a piece of broken
carving； repairing the church furniture。 Later； he became
choir…master also。
His life was shifting its centre； being more superficial。
He had failed to bee really articulate； failed to find real
expression。 He had to continue in the old form。 But in spirit；
he was uncreated。
Anna was absorbed in the child now； she left her husband to
take his own way。 She was willing now to postpone all adventure
into unknown realities。 She had the child； her palpable and
immediate future was the child。 If her soul had found no
utterance； her womb had。
The church that neighboured with his house became very
intimate and dear to him。 He cherished it； he had it entirely in
his charge。 If he could find no new activity； he would be happy
cherishing the old； dear form of worship。 He knew this little；
whitewashed church。 In its shadowy atmosphere he sank back into
being。 He liked to sink 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 plete 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 ing 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 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 l