The Rainbow

But when he got to the Marsh, he realized how fixed

everything was, how the other form of life was beyond him, and

he regretted for the first time that he had succeeded to the

farm. He felt a prisoner, sitting safe and easy and

unadventurous. He might, with risk, have done more with himself.

He could neither read Browning nor Herbert Spencer, nor have

access to such a room as Mrs. Forbes's. All that form of life

was outside him.

But then, he said he did not want it. The excitement of the

visit began to pass off. The next day he was himself, and if he

thought of the other woman, there was something about her and

her place that he did not like, something cold something alien,

as if she were not a woman, but an inhuman being who used up

human life for cold, unliving purposes.

The evening came on, he played with Anna, and then sat alone

with his own wife. She was sewing. He sat very still, smoking,

perturbed. He was aware of his wife's quiet figure, and quiet

dark head bent over her needle. It was too quiet for him. It was

too peaceful. He wanted to smash the walls down, and let the

night in, so that his wife should not be so secure and quiet,

sitting there. He wished the air were not so close and narrow.

His wife was obliterated from him, she was in her own world,

quiet, secure, unnoticed, unnoticing. He was shut down by

her.

He rose to go out. He could not sit still any longer. He must

get out of this oppressive, shut-down, woman-haunt.

His wife lifted her head and looked at him.

"Are you going out?" she asked.

He looked down and met her eyes. They were darker than

darkness, and gave deeper space. He felt himself retreating

before her, defensive, whilst her eyes followed and tracked him

own.

"I was just going up to Cossethay," he said.

She remained watching him.

"Why do you go?" she said.

His heart beat fast, and he sat down, slowly.

"No reason particular," he said, beginning to fill his pipe

again, mechanically.

"Why do you go away so often?" she said.

"But you don't want me," he replied.

She was silent for a while.

"You do not want to be with me any more," she said.

It startled him. How did she know this truth? He thought it

was his secret.

"Yi," he said.

"You want to find something else," she said.

He did not answer. "Did he?" he asked himself.

"You should not want so much attention," she said. "You are

not a baby."

"I'm not grumbling," he said. Yet he knew he was.

"You think you have not enough," she said.