never； could never understand that they should grow up
different。 They had held 〃Urtler Brangwen〃 one of themselves；
and had given her her place in her native village； as in a
family。 And the bond was strong。 But now； when she was growing
to something beyond what Cossethay would allow or understand；
the bond between her and her old associates was being a
bondage。
〃'Ello； Urs'ler； 'ow are yer goin' on？〃 they said when they
met her。 And it demanded of her in the old voice the old
response。 And something in her must respond and belong to people
who knew her。 But something else denied bitterly。 What was true
of her ten years ago was not true now。 And something else which
she was； and must be； they could neither see nor allow。 They
felt it there nevertheless； something beyond them； and they were
injured。 They said she was proud and conceited； that she was too
big for her shoes nowadays。 They said； she needn't pretend；
because they knew what she was。 They had known her since she was
born。 They quoted this and that about her。 And she was ashamed
because she did feel different from the people she had lived
amongst。 It hurt her that she could not be at her ease with them
any more。 And yetand yetone's kite will rise on
the wind as far as ever one has string to let it go。 It tugs and
tugs and will go； and one is glad the further it goes； even it
everybody else is nasty about it。 So Cossethay hampered her； and
she wanted to go away； to be free to fly her kite as high as she
liked。 She wanted to go away； to be free to stand straight up to
her own height。
So that when she knew that her father had the new post； and
that the family would move； she felt like skipping on the face
of the earth； and making psalms of joy。 The old； bound shell of
Cossethay was to be cast off； and she was to dance away into the
blue air。 She wanted to dance and sing。
She made dreams of the new place she would live in； where
stately cultured people of high feeling would be friends with
her； and she would live with the noble in the land； moving to a
large freedom of feeling。 She dreamed of a rich； proud； simple
girlfriend； who had never known Mr。 Harby and his like； nor
ever had a note in her voice of bondaged contempt and fear； as
Maggie had。
And she gave herself to all that she loved in Cossethay；
passionately； because she was going away now。 She wandered about
to her favourite spots。 There was a place where she went
trespassing to find the snowdrops that grew wild。 It was evening
and the winterdarkened meadows were full of mystery。 When she
came to the woods an oak tree had been newly chopped down in the
dell。 Pale drops of flowers glimmered many under the hazels； and
by the sharp； golden splinters of wood that were splashed about；
the greygreen blades of snowdrop leaves pricked unheeding； the
drooping still little flowers were without heed。
Ursula picked some lovingly； in an ecstasy。 The golden chips
of wood shone yellow like sunlight； the snowdrops in the
twilight were like the first stars of night。 And she； alone
amongst them； was wildly happy to have found her way into such a
glimmering dusk； to the intimate little flowers； and the splash
of wood chips like sunshine over the twilight of the ground。 She
sat down on the felled tree and remained awhile remote。
Going home； she left the purplish dark of the trees for the
open lane； where the puddles shone long and jewellike in the
ruts； the land about her was darkened； and the sky a jewel
overhead。 Oh； how amazing it was to her！ It was almost too much。
She wanted to run； and sing； and cry out for very wildness and
poignancy； but she could not run and sing and cry out in such a
way as to cry out the deep things in her heart； so she was
still； and almost sad with loneliness。
At Easter she went again to Maggie's home； for a few days。
She was； however shy and fugitive。 She saw Anthony； how
suggestive he was to look on； and how his eyes had a sort of
supplicating light； that was rather beautiful。 She looked at
him； and she looked again； for him to bee real to her。 But it
was her own self that was occupied elsewhere。 She seemed to have
some other being。
And she turned to spring and the opening buds。 There was a
large pear tree by a wall； and it was full； thronged with tiny；
greygreen buds； myriads。 She stood before it arrested with
delight； and a realization went deep into her heart。 There was
so great a host in array behind the cloud of pale； dim green； so
much to e forthso much sunshine to pour down。
So the weeks passed on； trancelike and pregnant。 The pear
tree at Cossethay burst into bloom against the cottageend； like
a wave burst into foam。 Then gradually the bluebells came； blue
as water standing thin in the level places under the trees and
bushes； flowing in more and more； till there was a flood of
azure； and palegreen leaves burning； and tiny birds with fiery
little song and flight。 Then swiftly the flood sank and was
gone； and it was summer。
There was to be no going to the seaside for a holiday。 The
holiday was the removal from Cossethay。
They were going to live near Willey Green； which place was
most central for Brangwen。 It was an old； quiet village on the
edge of the thronged collierydistrict。 So that it served； in
its quaintness of odd old cottages lingering in their sunny
gardens； as a sort of bower or pleasaunce to the sprawling
collierytownlet of Beldover； a pleasant walkround for the
colliers on Sunday morning； before the publichouses opened。
In Willey Green stood the Grammar School where Brangwen was
occupied for two days during the week； and where experiments in
education were being carried on。
Ursula wanted to live in Willey Green on the remoter side；
towards Southwell； and Sherwood Forest。 There it was so lovely
and romantic。 But out into the world meant out into the world。
Will Brangwen must bee modern。
He bought； with his wife's money； a fairly large house in the
new； redbrick part of Beldover。 It was a villa built by the
widow of the late colliery manager； and stood in a quiet； new
little sidestreet near the large church。
Ursula was rather sad。 Instead of having arrived at
distinction they had e to new redbrick suburbia in a grimy；
small town。
Mrs。 Brangwen was happy。 The rooms were splendidly
largea splendid diningroom； drawingroom and kitchen；
besides a very pleasant study downstairs。 Everything was
admirably appointed。 The widow had settled herself in lavishly。
She was a native of Beldover； and had intended to reign almost
queen。 Her bathroom was white and silver； her stairs were of
oak； her chimneypieces were massive and oaken； with bulging；
columnar supports。
〃Good and substantial；〃 was the keynote。 But Ursula resented
the stout； inflated prosperity implied everywhere。 She made her
father promise to chisel down the bulging oaken chimneypieces；
chisel them flat。 That sort of important paunch was very
distasteful to her。 Her father was himself long and loosely
built。 What had he to do with so much 〃good and substantial〃
importance？
They bought a fair amount also of the widow's furniture。 It
was in mon good tastethe great Wilton carpet； the
large round table； the Chesterfield covered with glossy chintz
in roses and birds。 It was all really very sunny and nice； with
large windows； and a view right across the shallow valley。
After all； they would be； as one of their acquaintances said；
among the elite of Beldover。 They would represent culture。 And
as there was no one of higher social importance than the
doctors； the collierymanagers； and the chemists； they would
shine； with their Della Robbia beautiful Madonna； their lovely
reliefs from Donatello； their reproductions from Botticelli。
Nay； the large photographs of the Primavera and the Aphrodite
and the Nativity in the diningroom； the ordinary
receptionroom； would make dumb the mouth of Beldover。
And after all； it is better to be princess in Beldover than a
vulgar nobody in the country。
There was great preparation made for the removal of the whole
Brangwen family； ten in all。 The house in Beldover was prepared；
the house in Cossethay was dismantled。 e the end of the
schoolterm the removal would begin。
Ursula left school at the end of July； when the summer
holiday menced。 The morning outside was bright and sunny； and
the freedom got inside the schoolroom this last day。 It was as
if the walls of the school were going to melt away。 Already they
seemed shadowy and unreal。 It was breakingup morning。 Soon
scholars and teachers would be outside； each going his own way。
The irons were struck off； the sentence was expired； the prison
was a momentary shadow halting about them。 The children were
carrying away books and inkwell； and rolling up maps。 All their
faces were bright with gladness and goodwill。 There was a bustle
of cleaning and clearing away all marks of this last term of
imprisonment。 They were all breaking free。 Busily； eagerly；
Ursula made up her totals of attendances in the register。 With
pride she wrote down the thousands： to so many thousands of
children had she given another sessions's lessons。 It looked
tremendous。 The excited hours passed slowly in suspense。 Then at
last it was over。 For the last time； she stood before her
children whilst they said their prayers and sang a hymn。 Then it
was over。
〃Goodbye； children；〃 she said。 〃I shall not fet you； and
you must not fet me。〃
〃No； miss；〃 cried the children in chorus； with shining
faces。
She stood smiling on them； moved； as they filed out。 Then she
gave her monitors their term sixpences； and they too departed。
Cupboards were locked； blackboards washed； ink wells and dusters
removed。 The place stood bare and vacated。 She had triumphed
over it。 It was a shell now。 She had fought a good fight here；
and it had not been altogether unenjoyable。 She owed some
gratitude even to this hard； vacant place； that stood like a
memorial or a trophy。 So much of her life had been fought for
and won and lost here。 Something of this school would always
belong to her； something of her to it。 She acknowledged it。 And
now came the leavetaking。
In the teachers' room the teachers were chatting and
loitering；