She did not know this, she did not understand. They had
looked at each other, and had accepted each other. It was so,
then there was nothing to balk at, it was complete between
them.
At the wedding, his face was stiff and expressionless. He
wanted to drink, to get rid of his forethought and afterthought,
to set the moment free. But he could not. The suspense only
tightened at his heart. The jesting and joviality and jolly,
broad insinuation of the guests only coiled him more. He could
not hear. That which was impending obsessed him, he could not
get free.
She sat quiet, with a strange, still smile. She was not
afraid. Having accepted him, she wanted to take him, she
belonged altogether to the hour, now. No future, no past, only
this, her hour. She did not even notice him, as she sat beside
him at the head of the table. He was very near, their coming
together was close at hand. What more!
As the time came for all the guests to go, her dark face was
softly lighted, the bend of her head was proud, her grey eyes
clear and dilated, so that the men could not look at her, and
the women were elated by her, they served her. Very wonderful
she was, as she bade farewell, her ugly wide mouth smiling with
pride and recognition, her voice speaking softly and richly in
the foreign accent, her dilated eyes ignoring one and all the
departing guests. Her manner was gracious and fascinating, but
she ignored the being of him or her to whom she gave her
hand.
And Brangwen stood beside her, giving his hearty handshake to
his friends, receiving their regard gratefully, glad of their
attention. His heart was tormented within him, he did not try to
smile. The time of his trial and his admittance, his Gethsemane
and his Triumphal Entry in one, had come now.
Behind her, there was so much unknown to him. When he
approached her, he came to such a terrible painful unknown. How
could he embrace it and fathom it? How could he close his arms
round all this darkness and hold it to his breast and give
himself to it? What might not happen to him? If he stretched and
strained for ever he would never be able to grasp it all, and to
yield himself naked out of his own hands into the unknown power!
How could a man be strong enough to take her, put his arms round
her and have her, and be sure he could conquer this awful
unknown next his heart? What was it then that she was, to which
he must also deliver himself up, and which at the same time he
must embrace, contain?
He was to be her husband. It was established so. And he
wanted it more than he wanted life, or anything. She stood
beside him in her silk dress, looking at him strangely, so that
a certain terror, horror took possession of him, because she was
strange and impending and he had no choice. He could not bear to
meet her look from under her strange, thick brows.