illusory； conceited fulfilment which she had imagined she could
not have with Skrebensky。 Who was she to be wanting some
fantastic fulfilment in her life？ Was it not enough that she had
her man； her children； her place of shelter under the sun？ Was
it not enough for her； as it had been enough for her mother？ She
would marry and love her husband and fill her place simply。 That
was the ideal。
Suddenly she saw her mother in a just and true light。 Her
mother was simple and radically true。 She had taken the life
that was given。 She had not； in her arrogant conceit； insisted
on creating life to fit herself。 Her mother was right；
profoundly right； and she herself had been false； trashy；
conceited。
A great mood of humility came over her； and in this humility
a bondaged sort of peace。 She gave her limbs to the bondage； she
loved the bondage； she called it peace。 In this state she sat
down to write to Skrebensky。
Since you left me I have suffered a great deal； and so have
e to myself。 I cannot tell you the remorse I feel for my
wicked； perverse behaviour。 It was given to me to love you； and
to know your love for me。 But instead of thankfully； on my
knees； taking what God had given me； I must have the moon in my
keeping； I must insist on having the moon for my own。 Because I
could not have it； everything else must go。
I do not know if you can ever forgive me。 I could die with
shame to think of my behaviour with you during our last times；
and I don't know if I could ever bear to look you in the face
again。 Truly the best thing would be for me to die； and cover my
fantasies for ever。 But I find I am with child； so that cannot
be。
It is your child； and for that reason I must revere it and
submit my body entirely to its welfare； entertaining no thought
of death； which once more is largely conceit。 Therefore； because
you once loved me； and because this child is your child； I ask
you to have me back。 If you will cable me one word； I will e
to you as soon as I can。 I swear to you to be a dutiful wife；
and to serve you in all things。 For now I only hate myself and
my own conceited foolishness。 I love you……I love the
thought of you……you were natural and decent all through；
whilst I was so false。 Once I am with you again； I shall ask no
more than to rest in your shelter all my life
This letter she wrote； sentence by sentence； as if from her
deepest； sincerest heart。 She felt that now； now； she was at the
depths of herself。 This was her true self； forever。 With this
document she would appear before God at the Judgment Day。
For what had a woman but to submit？ What was her flesh but
for childbearing； her strength for her children and her husband；
the giver of life？ At last she was a woman。
She posted her letter to his club； to be forwarded to him in
Calcutta。 He would receive it soon after his arrival in
India……within three weeks of his arrival there。 In a
month's time she would receive word from him。 Then she would
go。
She 。 She thought only of preparing her
garments and of living quietly； peacefully； till the time when
she should join him again and her history would be concluded for
ever。 The peace held like an unnatural calm for a long time。 She
was aware； however； of a gathering restiveness； a tumult
impending within her。 She tried to run away from it。 She wished
she could hear from Skrebensky； in answer to her letter； so that
her course should be resolved； she should be engaged in
fulfilling her fate。 It was this inactivity which made her
liable to the revulsion she dreaded。
It was curious how little she cared about his not having
written to her before。 It was enough that she had sent her
letter。 She would get the required answer； that was all。
One afternoon in early October； feeling the seething rising
to madness within her； she slipped out in the rain； to walk
abroad； lest the house should suffocate her。 Everywhere was
drenched wet and deserted； the grimed houses glowed dull red；
the butt houses burned scarlet in a gleam of light； under the
glistening； blackish purple slates。 Ursula went on towards
Willey Green。 She lifted her face and walked swiftly； seeing the
passage of light across the shallow valley； seeing the colliery
and its clouds of steam for a moment visionary in dim
brilliance； away in the chaos of rain。 Then the veils closed
again。 She was glad of the rain's privacy and intimacy。
Making on towards the wood； she saw the pale gleam of Willey
Water through the cloud below； she walked the open space where
hawthorn trees streamed like hair on the wind and round bushes
were presences slowing through the atmosphere。 It was very
splendid； free and chaotic。
Yet she hurried to the wood for shelter。 There； the vast
booming overhead vibrated down and encircled her； tree…trunks
spanned the circle of tremendous sound； myriads of tree…trunks；
enormous and streaked black with water； thrust like stanchions
upright between the roaring overhead and the sweeping of the
circle underfoot。 She glided between the tree…trunks； afraid of
them。 They might turn and shut her in as she went through their
martialled silence。
So she flitted along； keeping an illusion that she was
unnoticed。 She felt like a bird that has flown in through the
window of a hall where vast warriors sit at the board。 Between
their grave； booming ranks she was hastening； assuming she was
unnoticed； till she emerged； with beating heart； through the far
window and out into the open； upon the vivid green； marshy
meadow。
She turned under the shelter of the mon； seeing the great
veils of rain swinging with slow； floating waves across the
landscape。 She was very wet and a long way from home； far
enveloped in the rain and the waving landscape。 She must beat
her way back through all this fluctuation； back to stability and
security。
A solitary thing； she took the track straight across the
wilderness； going back。 The path was a narrow groove in the turf
between high； sere； tussocky grass； it was scarcely more than a
rabbit run。 So she moved swiftly along； watching her footing；
going like a bird on the wind； with no thought； contained in
motion。 But her heart had a small； living seed of fear； as she
went through the wash of hollow space。
Suddenly she knew there was something else。 Some horses were
looming in the rain； not near yet。 But they were going to be
near。 She continued her path； inevitably。 They were horses in
the lee of a clump of trees beyond； above her。 She pursued her
way with bent head。 She did not want to lift her face to them。
She did not want to know they were there。 She went on in the
wild track。
She knew the heaviness on her heart。 It was the weight of the
horses。 But she would circumvent them。 She would bear the weight
steadily； and so escape。 She would go straight on； and on； and
be gone by。
Suddenly the weight deepened and her heart grew tense to bear
it。 Her breathing was laboured。 But this weight also she could
bear。 She knew without looking that the horses were moving
nearer。 What were they？ She felt the thud of their heavy hoofs
on the ground。 What was it that was drawing near her； what
weight oppressing her heart？