The child ceased to have so much anxiety for her motherafter the baby came.Seeing the mother with the baby boy，delighted and serene and secure，Anna was at first puzzled，then gradually she became indignant，and at last her littlelife settled on its own swivel，she was no more strained anddistorted to support her mother.She became more childish，not so abnormal，not charged with cares she could notunderstand.The charge of the mother，the satisfying of themother，had devolved elsewhere than on her.Gradually the cluld was freed.She became an independent，forgetful little soul，loving from her own centre.Of her own choice，she then loved Brangwen most，or most obviously.For these two made a little life together，theyhad a joint activity.It amused him，at evening，to teach her to count，or to say her letters.He remembered for her all the little nursery rhymes and childish songs that lay forgotten at the bottom of his brain.At first she thought them rubbish.But he laughed，and she laughed.They became to her a huge joke.Old King Coleshe thought was Brangwen.Mother Hubbard was Tilly，her mother was the old woman who lived in a shoe.It was a huge，it was a frantic delight to the child，this nonsense，after her years with her mother，after the poignant folk-tales she had had from her mother，which always troubled and mystified her soul.She shared a sort of recklessness with her father，a complete，chosen carelessness that had the laugh of ridicule in it.He loved to make her voice go lugh and shouting and defiant with laughter.The baby was dark-skinned andas had driven him almost mad with trammelled passionat first.She came to him again，and，his heart delirious indelight and readiness，he took her.And it was almost asbefore.

　　Perhaps it was quite as before.At any rate，it made himknow perfection，it established in him a constant eternalknowledge.

　　But it died down before he wanted it to die down，She was finished，she could take no more.And he was not exhausted，he wanted to go on.But it could not be.

　　So he had to begin the bitter lesson，to abate himself，to takeless than he wanted.For she was Woman to him，all other women were her shadows.For she had satisfied him.And he wanted it to go on.And it could not.However he raged，and，filled with suppression that became hot and bitter，hated her in his soul that she did not want him，however he had mad outbursts，and drank and made ugly scenes，still he knew，he was only kicking against the pricks.It was not，he had to learn，that she would not want him enough，as much as he demanded that she should want him.It was that she could not.She could only want him in her own way，and to her own measure.And she had spent much life before he found her as she was，the woman who could take him and give him fulfilment.She had taken him and given him fulfilment.She still could do so，in her own times and ways.But he must control himself，measure himself to her.

　　……