to。 And she said to herself； when present things seemed a
failure：
〃Ah； I was fond of him；〃 as if with him the leading
flower of her life had died。
Now she heard from him again。 The chief effect was pain。 The
pleasure； the spontaneous joy was not there any longer。 But her
will rejoiced。 Her will had fixed itself to him。 And the
old excitement of her dreams stirred and woke up。 He was e；
the man with the wondrous lips that could send the kiss wavering
to the very end of all space。 Was he e back to her？ She did
not believe。
My dear Ursula； I am back in England again for a few
months before going out again； this time to India。 I wonder if
you still keep the memory of our times together。 I have still
got the little photograph of you。 You must be changed since
then； for it is about six years ago。 I am fully six years
older；I have lived through another life since I knew you
at Cossethay。 I wonder if you would care to see me。 I shall e
up to Derby next week； and I would call in Nottingham； and we
might have tea together。 Will you let me know？ I shall look for
your answer。
Anton Skrebensky
Ursula had taken this letter from the rack in the hall at
college； and torn it open as she crossed to the Women's room。
The world seemed to dissolve away from around her； she stood
alone in clear air。
Where could she go； to be alone？ She fled away； upstairs； and
through the private way to the reference library。 Seizing a
book； she sat down and pondered the letter。 Her heart beat； her
limbs trembled。 As in a dream； she heard one gong sound in the
college； then； strangely； another。 The first lecture had gone
by。
Hurriedly she took one of her notebooks and began to
write。
〃Dear Anton； Yes； I still have the ring。 I should be very
glad to see you again。 You can e here to college for me； or I
will meet you somewhere in the town。 Will you let me know？ Your
sincere friend〃
Trembling； she asked the librarian； who was her friend； if he
would give her an envelope。 She sealed and addressed her letter；
and went out； bareheaded； to post it。 When it was dropped into
the pillarbox； the world became a very still； pale place；
without confines。 She wandered back to college； to her pale
dream； like a first wan light of dawn。
Skrebensky came one afternoon the following week。 Day after
day； she had hurried swiftly to the letterrack on her arrival
at college in the morning； and during the intervals between
lectures。 Several times； swiftly； with secretive fingers； she
had plucked his letter down from its public prominence； and fled
across the hall holding it fast and hidden。 She read her letters
in the botany laboratory； where her corner was always reserved
to her。
Several letters； and then he was ing。 It was Friday
afternoon he appointed。 She worked over her microscope with
feverish activity； able to give only half her attention； yet
working closely and rapidly。 She had on her slide some special
stuff e up from London that day； and the professor was fussy
and excited about it。 At the same time； as she focused the light
on her field； and saw the plantanimal lying shadowy in a
boundless light； she was fretting over a conversation she had
had a few days ago with Dr。 Frankstone； who was a woman doctor
of physics in the college。
〃No； really；〃 Dr。 Frankstone had said； 〃I don't see why we
should attribute some special mystery to lifedo you？ We
don't understand it as we understand electricity； even； but that
doesn't warrant our saying it is something special； something
different in kind and distinct from everything else in the
universedo you think it does？ May it not be that life
consists in a plexity of physical and chemical activities； of
the same order as the activities we already know in science？ I
don't see； really； why we should imagine there is a special
order of life； and life alone〃
The conversation had ended on a note of uncertainty；
indefinite； wistful。 But the purpose； what was the purpose？
Electricity had no soul； light and heat had no soul。 Was she
herself an impersonal force； or conjunction of forces； like one
of these？ She looked still at the unicellular shadow that lay
within the field of light； under her microscope。 It was alive。
She saw it moveshe saw the bright mist of its ciliary
activity； she saw the gleam of its nucleus； as it slid across
the plane of light。 What then was its will？ If it was a
conjunction of forces； physical and chemical； what held these
forces unified； and for what purpose were they unified？
For what purpose were the incalculable physical and chemical
activities nodalized in this shadowy； moving speck under her
microscope？ What was the will which nodalized them and created
the one thing she saw？ What was its intention？ To be itself？ Was
its purpose just mechanical and limited to itself？
It intended to be itself。 But what self？ Suddenly in her mind
the world gleamed strangely； with an intense light； like the
nucleus of the creature under the microscope。 Suddenly she had
passed away into an intenselygleaming light of knowledge。 She
could not understand what it all was。 She only knew that it was
not limited mechanical energy； nor mere purpose of
selfpreservation and selfassertion。 It was a consummation； a
being infinite。 Self was a oneness with the infinite。 To be
oneself was a supreme； gleaming triumph of infinity。
Ursula sat abstracted over her microscope； in suspense。 Her
soul was busy； infinitely busy； in the new world。 In the new
world； Skrebensky was waiting for herhe would be waiting
for her。 She could not go yet； because her soul was engaged。
Soon she would go。
A stillness； like passing away； took hold of her。 Far off；
down the corridors； she heard the gong booming five o'clock。 She
must go。 Yet she sat still。
The other students were pushing back their stools and putting
their microscopes away。 Everything broke into turmoil。 She saw；
through the window； students going down the steps； with books
under their arms； talking； all talking。
A great craving to depart came upon her。 She wanted also to
be gone。 She was in dread of the material world； and in dread of
her own transfiguration。 She wanted to run to meet
Skrebenskythe new life； the reality。
Very rapidly she wiped her slides and put them back； cleared
her place at the bench； active； active； active。 She wanted to
run to meet Skrebensky； hastenhasten。 She did not know
what she was to meet。 But it would be a new beginning。 She must
hurry。
She flitted down the corridor on swift feet； her razor and
notebooks and pencil in one hand； her pinafore over her arm。
Her face was lifted and tense with eagerness。 He might not be
there。
Issuing from the corridor； she saw him at once。 She knew him
at once。 Yet he was so strange。 He stood with the curious
selfeffacing diffidence which so frightened her in wellbred
young men whom she knew。 He stood as if he wished to be unseen。
He was very welldressed。 She would not admit to herself the
chill like a sunshine of frost that came over her。 This was he；
the key； the nucleus to the new world。
He saw her ing swiftly across the hall； a slim girl in a
white flannel blouse and dark skirt； with some of the
abstraction and gleam of the unknown upon her； and he started；
excited。 He was very nervous。 Other students were loitering
about the hall。
She laughed； with a blind； dazzled face； as she gave him her
hand。 He too could not perceive her。
In a moment she was gone； to get her outdoor things。 Then
again； as when she had been at school； they walked out into the
town to tea。 And they went to the same teashop。
She knew a great difference in him。 The kinship was there；
the old kinship； but he had belonged to a different world from
hers。 It was as if they had cried a state of truce between him
and her； and in this truce they had met。 She knew； vaguely； in
the first minute； that they were enemies e together in a
truce。 Every movement and word of his was alien to her
being。
Yet still she loved the fine texture of his face； of his
skin。 He was rather browner； physically stronger。 He was a man
now。 She thought his manliness made the strangeness in him。 When
he was only a youth； fluid； he was nearer to her。 She thought a
man must inevitably set into this strange separateness； cold
otherness of being。 He talked； but not to her。 She tried to
speak to him； but she could not reach him。
He seemed so balanced and sure； he made such a confident
presence。 He was a great rider； so there was about him some of a
horseman's sureness and habitual definiteness of decision； also
some of the horseman's animal darkness。 Yet his soul was only
the more wavering； vague。 He seemed made up of a set of habitual
actions and decisions。 The vulnerable； variable quick of the man
was inaccessible。 She knew nothing of it。 She could only feel
the dark； heavy fixity of his animal desire。
This dumb desire on his part had brought him to her？ She was
puzzled； hurt by some hopeless fixity in him； that terrified her
with a cold feeling of despair。 What did he want？ His desires
were so underground。 Why did he not admit himself？ What did he
want？ He wanted something that should be nameless。 She shrank in
fear。
Yet she flashed with excitement。 In his dark； subterranean
male soul； he was kneeling before her； darkly exposing himself。
She quivered； the dark flame ran over her。 He was waiting at her
feet。 He was helpless； at her mercy。 She could take or reject。
If she rejected him； something would die in him。 For him it was
life or death。 And yet； all must be kept so dark； the
consciousness must admit nothing。
〃How long；〃 she said； 〃are you staying in England？〃
〃I am not surebut not later than July； I believe。〃
Then they were both silent。 He was here； in England； for six
months。 They had a space of six months between them。 He waited。
The same iron rigidity； as if the world were made of steel；
possessed her again。 It was no use turning with flesh and blood
to this arrangement of fed metal。
Quickly； her imagination adjusted itself to the
situation。
〃Have you an appointment in India？〃 she asked。
〃YesI have just the six months' leave。〃
〃Will you like being out there？〃
〃I think sothere's a good deal of social life； and
plenty going onhunting； poloand always a good
horseand plenty of work； any amount of work。〃
He was always sidetracking； always sidetracking his own
soul。 She could see him so well out there； in Indiaone of
the governing class； superimposed upon an old civilization； lord
and master of a clumsier civilization than his own。 It was his
choice。 He would bee again an aristocrat； invested with
authority and responsibility； having a great helpless populace
beneath him。 One of the ruling class； his whole being would be
given over to the fulfilling and the executing of the better
idea of the state。 And in India； there would be real work to do。
The country did need the civilization which he himself
represented： it did need his roads and bridges； and the
enlightenment of which he was part。 He would go to India。 But
that was not her road。
Yet she loved him； the body of him； whatever his decisions
might be。 He seemed to want something of her。 He was waiting for