he was interesting。 His directness attracted her； his
independent motion。 She was aware of the movement of his life
over against hers。
〃I don't think brains matter；〃 she said。
〃What does matter then？〃 came her Uncle Tom's intimate；
caressing； halfjeering voice。
She turned to him。
〃It matters whether people have courage or not；〃 she
said。
〃Courage for what？〃 asked her uncle。
〃For everything。〃
Tom Brangwen gave a sharp little laugh。 The mother and father
sat silent； with listening faces。 Skrebensky waited。 She was
speaking for him。
〃Everything's nothing；〃 laughed her uncle。
She disliked him at that moment。
〃She doesn't practice what she preaches；〃 said her father；
stirring in his chair and crossing one leg over the other。 〃She
has courage for mighty little。〃
But she would not answer。 Skrebensky sat still； waiting。 His
face was irregular； almost ugly； flattish； with a rather thick
nose。 But his eyes were pellucid； strangely clear； his brown
hair was soft and thick as silk； he had a slight moustache。 His
skin was fine； his figure slight； beautiful。 Beside him； her
Uncle Tom looked fullblown； her father seemed uncouth。 Yet he
reminded her of her father； only he was finer； and he seemed to
be shining。 And his face was almost ugly。
He seemed simply acquiescent in the fact of his own being； as
if he were beyond any change or question。 He was himself。 There
was a sense of fatality about him that fascinated her。 He made
no effort to prove himself to other people。 Let it be accepted
for what it was； his own being。 In its isolation it made no
excuse or explanation for itself。
So he seemed perfectly； even fatally established； he did not
asked to be rendered before he could exist； before he could have
relationship with another person。
This attracted Ursula very much。 She was so used to unsure
people who took on a new being with every new influence。 Her
Uncle Tom was always more or less what the other person would
have him。 In consequence； one never knew the real Uncle Tom；
only a fluid； unsatisfactory flux with a more or less consistent
appearance。
But； let Skrebensky do what he would； betray himself
entirely； he betrayed himself always upon his own
responsibility。 He permitted no question about himself。 He was
irrevocable in his isolation。
So Ursula thought him wonderful； he was so finely
constituted； and so distinct； selfcontained； selfsupporting。
This； she said to herself； was a gentleman； he had a nature like
fate； the nature of an aristocrat。
She laid hold of him at once for her dreams。 Here was one
such as those Sons of God who saw the daughters of men； that
they were fair。 He was no son of Adam。 Adam was servile。 Had not
Adam been driven cringing out of his native place； had not the
human race been a beggar ever since； seeking its own being？ But
Anton Skrebensky could not beg。 He was in possession of himself；
of that； and no more。 Other people could not really give him
anything nor take anything from him。 His soul stood alone。
She knew that her mother and father acknowledged him。 The
house was changed。 There had been a visit paid to the house。
Once three angels stood in Abraham's doorway； and greeted him；
and stayed and ate with him； leaving his household enriched for
ever when they went。
The next day she went down to the Marsh according to
invitation。 The two men were not e home。 Then； looking
through the window； she saw the dogcart drive up； and Skrebensky
leapt down。 She saw him draw himself together； jump； laugh to
her uncle； who was driving； then e towards her to the house。
He was so spontaneous and revealed in his movements。 He was
isolated within his own clear； fine atmosphere； and as still as
if fated。
His resting in his own fate gave him an appearance of
indolence； almost of languor： he made no exuberant movement。
When he sat down； he seemed to go loose； languid。
〃We are a little late；〃 he said。
〃Where have you been？〃
〃We went to Derby to see a friend of my father's。〃
〃Who？〃
It was an adventure to her to put direct questions and get
plain answers。 She knew she might do it with this man。
〃Why； he is a clergyman toohe is my guardianone
of them。〃
Ursula knew that Skrebensky was an orphan。
〃Where is really your home now？〃 she asked。
〃My home？I wonder。 I am very fond of my
colonelColonel Hepburn： then there are my aunts： but my
real home； I suppose； is the army。〃
〃Do you like being on your own？〃
His clear； greenishgrey eyes rested on her a moment； and； as
he considered； he did not see her。
〃I suppose so；〃 he said。 〃You see my fatherwell； he
was never acclimatized here。 He wantedI don't know what
he wantedbut it was a strain。 And my motherI
always knew she was too good to me。 I could feel her being too
good to memy mother！ Then I went away to school so early。
And I must say； the outside world was always more naturally a
home to me than the vicarageI don't know why。〃
〃Do you feel like a bird blown out of its own latitude？〃 she
asked； using a phrase she had met。
〃No； no。 I find everything very much as I like it。〃
He seemed more and more to give her a sense of the vast
world； a sense of distances and large masses of humanity。 It
drew her as a scent draws a bee from afar。 But also it hurt
her。
It was summer； and she wore cotton frocks。 The third time he
saw her she had on a dress with fine blueandwhite stripes；
with a white collar； and a large white hat。 It suited her
golden； warm plexion。
〃I like you best in that dress；〃 he said； standing with his
head slightly on one side； and appreciating her in a perceiving；
critical fashion。
She was thrilled with a new life。 For the first time she was
in love with a vision of herself： she saw as it were a fine
little reflection of herself in his eyes。 And she must act up to
this： she must be beautiful。 Her thoughts turned swiftly to
clothes； her passion was to make a beautiful appearance。 Her
family looked on in amazement at the sudden transformation of
Ursula。 She became elegant； really elegant； in figured cotton
frocks she made for herself； and hats she bent to her fancy。 An
inspiration was upon her。
He sat with a sort of languor in her grandmother's rocking
chair； rocking slowly； languidly； backward and forward； as
Ursula talked to him。
〃You are not poor； are you？〃 she said。
〃Poor in money？ I have about a hundred and fifty a year of my
ownso I am poor or rich； as you like。 I am poor enough；
in fact。〃
〃But you will earn money？〃
〃I shall have my payI have my pay now。 I've got my
mission。 That is another hundred and fifty。〃
〃You will have more； though？〃
〃I shan't have more than 200 pounds a year for ten years to
e。 I shall always be poor； if I have to live on my pay。〃
〃Do you mind it？〃
〃Being poor？ Not nownot very much。 I may later。
Peoplethe officers； are good to me。 Colonel Hepburn has a
sort of fancy for mehe is a rich man； I suppose。〃
A chill went over Ursula。 Was he going to sell himself in
some way？
〃Is Colonel Hepburn married？〃
〃Yeswith two daughters。〃
But she was too proud at once to care whether Colonel
Hepburn's daughter wanted to marry him or not。
There came a silence。 Gudrun entered； and Skrebensky still
rocked languidly on the chair。
〃You look very lazy；〃 said Gudrun。
〃I am lazy；〃 he answered。
〃You look really floppy；〃 she said。
〃I am floppy；〃 he answered。
〃Can't you stop？〃 asked Gudrun。
〃Noit's the perpetuum mobile。〃
〃You look as if you hadn't a bone in your body。〃
〃That's how I like to feel。〃
〃I don't admire your taste。〃
〃That's my misfortune。〃
And he rocked on。
Gudrun seated herself behind him； and as he rocked back； she
caught his hair between her finger and thumb； so that it tugged
him as he swung forward again。 He took no notice。 There was only
the sound of the rockers on the floor。 In silence； like a crab；
Gudrun caught a strand of his hair each time he rocked back。
Ursula flushed； and sat in some pain。 She saw the irritation
gathering on his brow。
At last he leapt up； suddenly； like a steel spring going off；
and stood on the hearthrug。
〃Damn it； why can't I rock？〃 he asked petulantly；
fiercely。
Ursula loved him for his sudden； steellike start out of the
languor。 He stood on the hearthrug fuming； his eyes gleaming
with anger。
Gudrun laughed in her deep； mellow fashion。
〃Men don't rock themselves；〃 she said。
〃Girls don't pull men's hair；〃 he said。
Gudrun laughed again。
Ursula sat amused； but waiting。 And he knew Ursula was
waiting for him。 It roused his blood。 He had to go to her； to
follow her call。
Once he drove her to Derby in the dogcart。 He belonged to
the horsey set of the sappers。 They had lunch in an inn； and
went through the market； pleased with everything。 He bought her
a copy of Wuthering Heights from a bookstall。 Then they found a
little fair in progress and she said：
〃My father used to take me in the swingboats。〃
〃Did you like it？〃 he asked。
〃Oh； it was fine；〃 she said。
〃Would you like to go now？〃
〃Love it；〃 she said； though she was afraid。 But the prospect
of doing an unusual； exciting thing was attractive to her。
He went straight to the stand； paid the money； and helped her
to mount。 He seemed to ignore everything but just what he was
doing。 Other people were mere objects of indifference to him。
She would have liked to hang back； but she was more ashamed to
retreat from him than to expose herself to the crowd or to dare
the swingboat。 His eyes laughed； and standing before her with
his sharp； sudden figure； he set the boat swinging。 She was not
afraid； she was thrilled。 His colour flushed； his eyes shone
with a roused light； and she looked up at him； her face like a
flower in the sun； so bright and attractive。 So they rushed
through the bright air； up at the sky as if flung from a
catapult； then falling terribly back。 She loved it。 The motion
seemed to fan their blood to fire； they laughed； feeling the
flames。
After the swingboats； they went on the roundabouts to calm
down； he twisting astride on his jerky wooden steed towards her；
and always seeming at his ease； enjoying himself。 A zest of
antagonism to the convention made him fully himself。 As they sat
on the whirling carousal； with the music grinding out； she was
aware of the people on the earth outside； and it seemed that he
and she were riding carelessly over the faces of the crowd；
riding for ever buoyantly； proudly； gallantly over the upturned
faces of the crowd； moving on a high level； spurning the mon
mass。
When they must descend and walk away； she was unhappy；
feeling like a giant suddenly cut down to ordinary level； at the
mercy of the mob。
They left the fair； to return for the dogcart。 Passing the
large church； Ursula must look in。 But the whole interior was
filled with scaffolding； fallen stone and rubbish were heaped on
the floor； bits of plaster crunched underfoot； and the place
reechoed to the calling of secular voices and to blows of the
hammer。
She had e to plunge in the utter gloom and peace for a
moment； bringing all her yearning； that had returned on her
uncontrolled after the reckless riding over the face of the
crowd； in the fai