The Rainbow

It was ten o'clock as he was mounting the hill to Cossethay,

carrying his limp book on Bamberg Cathedral. He had not yet

thought of Anna, not definitely. The dark finger pressing a

bruise controlled him thoughtlessly.

Anna had started guiltily when he left the house. She had

hastened preparing the tea, hoping he would come back. She had

made some toast, and got all ready. Then he didn't come. She

cried with vexation and disappointment. Why had he gone? Why

couldn't he come back now? Why was it such a battle between

them? She loved him--she did love him--why couldn't he

be kinder to her, nicer to her?

She waited in distress--then her mood grew harder. He

passed out of her thoughts. She had considered indignantly, what

right he had to interfere with her sewing? She had indignantly

refuted his right to interfere with her at all. She was not to

be interfered with. Was she not herself, and he the

outsider.

Yet a quiver of fear went through her. If he should leave

her? She sat conjuring fears and sufferings, till she wept with

very self-pity. She did not know what she would do if he left

her, or if he turned against her. The thought of it chilled her,

made her desolate and hard. And against him, the stranger, the

outsider, the being who wanted to arrogate authority, she

remained steadily fortified. Was she not herself? How could one

who was not of her own kind presume with authority? She knew she

was immutable, unchangeable, she was not afraid for her own

being. She was only afraid of all that was not herself. It

pressed round her, it came to her and took part in her, in form

of her man, this vast, resounding, alien world which was not

herself. And he had so many weapons, he might strike from so

many sides.

When he came in at the door, his heart was blazed with pity

and tenderness, she looked so lost and forlorn and young. She

glanced up, afraid. And she was surprised to see him,

shining-faced, clear and beautiful in his movements, as if he

were clarified. And a startled pang of fear, and shame of

herself went through her.

They waited for each other to speak.

"Do you want to eat anything?" she said.

"I'll get it myself," he answered, not wanting her to serve

him. But she brought out food. And it pleased him she did it for

him. He was again a bright lord.

"I went to Nottingham," he said mildly.

"To your mother?" she asked, in a flash of contempt.

"No--I didn't go home."

"Who did you go to see?"

"I went to see nobody."

"Then why did you go to Nottingham?"

"I went because I wanted to go."

He was getting angry that she again rebuffed him when he was

so clear and shining.