was as if some disillusion had frozen upon her； a hard
disbelief。 Part of her had gone cold； apathetic。 She was too
young； too baffled to understand； or even to know that she
suffered much。 And she was too deeply hurt to submit。
She had her blind agonies； when she wanted him； she wanted
him。 But from the moment of his departure； he had bee a
visionary thing of her own。 All her roused torment and passion
and yearning she turned to him。
She kept a diary； in which she wrote impulsive thoughts。
Seeing the moon in the sky； her own heart surcharged； she went
and wrote：
〃If I were the moon； I know where I would fall down。〃
It meant so much to her； that sentenceshe put into it
all the anguish of her youth and her young passion and yearning。
She called to him from her heart wherever she went； her limbs
vibrated with anguish towards him wherever she was； the
radiating force of her soul seemed to travel to him； endlessly；
endlessly； and in her soul's own creation； find him。
But who was he； and where did he exist？ In her own desire
only。
She received a postcard from him； and she put it in her
bosom。 It did not mean much to her； really。 The second day； she
lost it； and never even remembered she had had it； till some
days afterwards。
The long weeks went by。 There came the constant bad news of
the war。 And she felt as if all； outside there in the world；
were a hurt； a hurt against her。 And something in her soul
remained cold； apathetic； unchanging。
Her life was always only partial at this time； never did she
live pletely。 There was the cold； unliving part of her。 Yet
she was madly sensitive。 She could not bear herself。 When a
dirty； redeyed old woman came begging of her in the street； she
started away as from an unclean thing。 And then； when the old
woman shouted acrid insults after her； she winced； her limbs
palpitated with insane torment； she could not bear herself。
Whenever she thought of the redeyed old woman； a sort of
madness ran in inflammation over her flesh and her brain； she
almost wanted to kill herself。
And in this state； her sexual life flamed into a kind of
disease within her。 She was so overwrought and sensitive； that
the mere touch of coarse wool seemed to tear her nerves。
CHAPTER XII
SHAME
Ursula had only two more terms at school。 She was studying
for her matriculation examination。 It was dreary work； for she
had very little intelligence when she was disjointed from
happiness。 Stubbornness and a consciousness of impending fate
kept her halfheartedly pinned to it。 She knew that soon she
would want to bee a selfresponsible person； and her dread
was that she would be prevented。 An allcontaining will in her
for plete independence； plete social independence；
plete independence from any personal authority； kept her
dullishly at her studies。 For she knew that she had always her
price of ransomher femaleness。 She was always a woman；
and what she could not get because she was a human being； fellow
to the rest of mankind； she would get because she was a female；
other than the man。 In her femaleness she felt a secret riches；
a reserve； she had always the price of freedom。
However； she was sufficiently reserved about this last
resource。 The other things should be tried first。 There was the
mysterious man's world to be adventured upon； the world of daily
work and duty； and existence as a working member of the
munity。 Against this she had a subtle grudge。 She wanted to
make her conquest also of this man's world。
So she ground away at her work； never giving it up。 Some
things she liked。 Her subjects were English； Latin； French；
mathematics and history。 Once she knew how to read French and
Latin； the syntax bored her。 Most tedious was the close study of
English literature。 Why should one remember the things one read？
Something in mathematics； their cold absoluteness； fascinated
her； but the actual practice was tedious。 Some people in history
puzzled her and made her ponder； but the political parts angered
her； and she hated ministers。 Only in odd streaks did she get a
poignant sense of acquisition and enrichment and enlarging from
her studies； one afternoon； reading As You Like It； once when；
with her blood； she heard a passage of Latin； and she knew how
the blood beat in a Roman's body； so that ever after she felt
she knew the Romans by contact。 She enjoyed the vagaries of
English Grammar； because it gave her pleasure to detect the live
movements of words and sentences； and mathematics； the very
sight of the letters in Algebra； had a real lure for her。
She felt so much and so confusedly at this time； that her
face got a queer； wondering； halfscared look； as if she were
not sure what might seize upon her at any moment out of the
unknown。
Odd little bits of information stirred unfathomable passion
in her。 When she knew that in the tiny brown buds of autumn were
folded； minute and plete； the finished flowers of the summer
nine months hence； tiny； folded up； and left there waiting； a
flash of triumph and love went over her。
〃I could never die while there was a tree；〃 she said
passionately； sententiously； standing before a great ash in
worship。
It was the people who； somehow； walked as an upright menace
to her。 Her life at this time was unformed； palpitating；
essentially shrinking from all touch。 She gave something to
other people； but she was never herself； since she had no self。
She was not afraid nor ashamed before trees； and birds； and the
sky。 But she shrank violently from people； ashamed she was not
as they were； fixed； emphatic； but a wavering； undefined
sensibility only； without form or being。
Gudrun was at this time a great fort and shield to her。
The younger girl was a lithe； farouche animal； who
mistrusted all approach； and would have none of the petty
secrecies and jealousies of schoolgirl intimacy。 She would have
no truck with the tame cats； nice or not； because she believed
that they were all only untamed cats with a nasty； untrustworthy
habit of tameness。
This was a great standback for Ursula； who suffered agonies
when she thought a person disliked her； no matter how much she
despised that other person。 How could anyone dislike her； Ursula
Brangwen？ The question terrified her and was unanswerable。 She
sought refuge in Gudrun's natural； proud indifference。
It had been discovered that Gudrun had a talent for drawing。
This solved the problem of the girl's indifference to all study。
It was said of her； 〃She can draw marvellously。〃
Suddenly Ursula found a queer awareness existed between
herself and her classmistress； Miss Inger。 The latter was a
rather beautiful woman of twentyeight； a fearlessseeming；
clean type of modern girl whose very independence betrays her
sorrow。 She was clever； and expert in what she did； accurate；
quick； manding。
To Ursula she had always given pleasure； because of her
clear； decided； yet graceful appearance。 She carried her head
high； a little thrown back； and Ursula thought there was a look
of nobility in the way she twisted her smooth brown hair upon
her head。 She always wore clean； attractive； wellfitting
blouses； and a wellmade skirt。 Everything about her was so
wellordered； betraying a fine； clear spirit； that it was a
pleasure to sit in her class。
Her voice was just as ringing and clear； and with unwavering；
finelytouched modulation。 Her eyes were blue； clear； proud； she
gave one altogether the sense of a finemettled； scrupulously
groomed person； and of an unyielding mind。 Yet there was an
infinite poignancy about her； a great pathos in her lonely；
proudly closed mouth。
It was after Skrebensky had gone that there sprang up between
the mistress and the girl that strange awareness； then the
unspoken intimacy that sometimes connects two people who may
never even make each other's acquaintance。 Before； they had
always been good friends； in the undistinguished way of the
classroom； with the professional relationship of mistress and
scholar always present。 Now； however； another thing came to
pass。 When they were in the room together； they were aware of
each other； almost to the exclusion of everything else。 Winifred
Inger felt a hot delight in the lessons when Ursula was present；
Ursula felt her whole life begin when Miss Inger came into the
room。 Then； with the beloved； subtlyintimate teacher present；
the girl sat as within the rays of some enrichening sun； whose
intoxicating heat poured straight into her veins。
The state of bliss； when Miss Inger was present； was supreme
in the girl； but always eager； eager。 As she went home； Ursula
dreamed of the schoolmistress； made infinite dreams of things
she could give her； of how she might make the elder woman adore
her。
Miss Inger was a Bachelor of Arts； who had studied at
Newnham。 She was a clergyman's daughter； of good family。 But
what Ursula adored so much was her fine； upright； athletic
bearing； and her indomitably proud nature。 She was proud and
free as a man； yet exquisite as a woman。
The girl's heart burned in her breast as she set off for
school in the morning。 So eager was her breast； so glad her
feet； to travel towards the beloved。 Ah； Miss Inger； how
straight and fine was her back； how strong her loins； how calm
and free her limbs！
Ursula craved ceaselessly to know if Miss Inger cared for
her。 As yet no definite sign had been passed between the two。
Yet surely； surely Miss Inger loved her too； was fond of her；
liked her at least more than the rest of the scholars in the
class。 Yet she was never certain。 It might be that Miss Inger
cared nothing for her。 And yet； and yet； with blazing heart；
Ursula felt that if only she could speak to her； touch her； she
would know。
The summer term came； and with it the swimming class。 Miss
Inger was to take the swimming class。 Then Ursula trembled and
was dazed with passion。 Her hopes were soon to be realized。 She
would see Miss Inger in her bathing dress。
The day came。 In the great bath the water was glimmering pale
emerald green； a lovely； glimmering mass of colour within the
whitish marblelike confines。 Overhead the light fell softly and
the great green body of pure water moved under it as so