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The Rainbow

Page 79

Still she kept an ideal: a free, proud lady absolved from the

petty ties, existing beyond petty considerations. She would see

such ladies in pictures: Alexandra, Princess of Wales, was one

of her models. This lady was proud and royal, and stepped

indifferently over all small, mean desires: so thought Anna, in

her heart. And the girl did up her hair high under a little

slanting hat, her skirts were fashionably bunched up, she wore

an elegant, skin-fitting coat.

Her father was delighted. Anna was very proud in her bearing,

too naturally indifferent to smaller bonds to satisfy Ilkeston,

which would have liked to put her down. But Brangwen was having

no such thing. If she chose to be royal, royal she should be. He

stood like a rock between her and the world.

After the fashion of his family, he grew stout and handsome.

His blue eyes were full of light, twinkling and sensitive, his

manner was deliberate, but hearty, warm. His capacity for living

his own life without attention from his neighbours made them

respect him. They would run to do anything for him. He did not

consider them, but was open-handed towards them, so they made

profit of their willingness. He liked people, so long as they

remained in the background.

Mrs. Brangwen went on in her own way, following her own

devices. She had her husband, her two sons and Anna. These

staked out and marked her horizon. The other people were

outsiders. Inside her own world, her life passed along like a

dream for her, it lapsed, and she lived within its lapse, active

and always pleased, intent. She scarcely noticed the outer

things at all. What was outside was outside, non-existent. She

did not mind if the boys fought, so long as it was out of her

presence. But if they fought when she was by, she was angry, and

they were afraid of her. She did not care if they broke a window

of a railway carriage or sold their watches to have a revel at

the Goose Fair. Brangwen was perhaps angry over these things. To

the mother they were insignificant. It was odd little things

that offended her. She was furious if the boys hung around the

slaughter-house, she was displeased when the school reports were

bad. It did not matter how many sins her boys were accused of,

so long as they were not stupid, or inferior. If they seemed to

brook insult, she hated them. And it was only a certain

gaucherie, a gawkiness on Anna's part that irritated her

against the girl. Certain forms of clumsiness, grossness, made

the mother's eyes glow with curious rage. Otherwise she was

pleased, indifferent.

Pursuing her splendid-lady ideal, Anna became a lofty

demoiselle of sixteen, plagued by family shortcomings. She was

very sensitive to her father. She knew if he had been drinking,

were he ever so little affected, and she could not bear it. He

flushed when he drank, the veins stood out on his temples, there

was a twinkling, cavalier boisterousness in his eye, his manner

was jovially overbearing and mocking. And it angered her. When

she heard his loud, roaring, boisterous mockery, an anger of

resentment filled her. She was quick to forestall him, the

moment he came in.

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