"Ay, an' I know another who's all that," said her father.
She was silent.
"You don't want to make yourselves miserable," said her
father; "all about nowt."
"He isn't miserable," she said.
"I'll back my life, if you can do nowt else, you can make him
as miserable as a dog. You'd be a dab hand at that, my
lass."
"I do nothing to make him miserable," she retorted.
"Oh no--oh no! A packet o' butterscotch, you are."
She laughed a little.
"You mustn't think I want him to be miserable," she
cried. "I don't."
"We quite readily believe it," retorted Brangwen. "Neither do
you intend him to be hopping for joy like a fish in a pond."
This made her think. She was rather surprised to find that
she did not intend her husband to be hopping for joy like
a fish in a pond.
Her mother came, and they all sat down to tea, talking
casually.
"Remember, child," said her mother, "that everything is not
waiting for your hand just to take or leave. You mustn't
expect it. Between two people, the love itself is the important
thing, and that is neither you nor him. It is a third thing you
must create. You mustn't expect it to be just your way."
"Ha-nor do I. If I did I should soon find my mistake out. If
I put my hand out to take anything, my hand is very soon
bitten, I can tell you."
"Then you must mind where you put your hand," said her
father.
Anna was rather indignant that they took the tragedy of her
young married life with such equanimity.
"You love the man right enough," said her father, wrinkling
his forehead in distress. "That's all as counts."
"I do love him, more shame to him," she cried. "I want
to tell him--I've been waiting for four days now to tell
him----" her face began to quiver, the tears came. Her
parents watched her in silence. She did not go on.
"Tell him what?" said her father.
"That we're going to have an infant," she sobbed, "and he's
never, never let me, not once, every time I've come to him, he's
been horrid to me, and I wanted to tell him, I did. And he won't
let me--he's cruel to me."
She sobbed as if her heart would break. Her mother went and
comforted her, put her arms round her, and held her close. Her
father sat with a queer, wrinkled brow, and was rather paler
than usual. His heart went tense with hatred of his
son-in-law.
So that, when the tale was sobbed out, and comfort
administered and tea sipped, and something like calm restored to
the little circle, the thought of Will Brangwen's entry was not
pleasantly entertained.
Tilly was set to watch out for him as he passed by on his way
home. The little party at table heard the woman's servant's
shrill call: "You've got to come in, Will. Anna's here."