The Rainbow

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, becoming more superficial.

He had failed to become 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.