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made a home in the hearts of the children； who clustered round
feeling strange in the new place。
Everything was at sixes and sevens。 But a fire was made in
the kitchen； the hearthrug put down； the kettle set on the hob；
and Mrs。 Brangwen began towards sunset to prepare the first
meal。 Ursula and Gudrun were slaving in the bedrooms； candles
were rushing about。 Then from the kitchen came the smell of ham
and eggs and coffee； and in the gaslight； the scrambled meal
began。 The family seemed to huddle together like a little camp
in a strange place。 Ursula felt a load of responsibility upon
her； caring for the halflittle ones。 The smallest kept near the
mother。
It was dark； and the children went sleepy but excited to bed。
It was a long time before the sound of voices died out。 There
was a tremendous sense of adventure。
In the morning everybody was awake soon after dawn； the
children crying：
〃When I wakened up I didn't know where I was。〃
There were the strange sounds of the town； and the repeated
chiming of the big church bells； so much harsher and more
insistent than the little bells of Cossethay。 They looked
through the windows past the other new red houses to the wooded
hill across the valley。 They had all a delightful sense of space
and liberation； space and light and air。
But gradually all set to work。 They were a careless； untidy
family。 Yet when once they set about to get the house in order；
the thing went with felicity and quickness。 By evening the place
was roughly established。
They would not have a servant to live in the house； only a
woman who could go home at night。 And they would not even have
the woman yet。 They wanted to do as they liked in their own
home； with no stranger in the midst。
CHAPTER XV
THE BITTERNESS OF ECSTASY
A storm of industry raged on in the house。 Ursula did not go
to college till October。 So； with a distinct feeling of
responsibility； as if she must express herself in this house；
she laboured arranging； rearranging； selecting； contriving。
She could use her father's ordinary tools； both for woodwork
and metalwork； so she hammered and tinkered。 Her mother was
quite content to have the thing done。 Brangwen was interested。
He had a ready belief in his daughter。 He himself was at work
putting up his workshed in the garden。
At last she had finished for the time being。 The drawingroom
was big and empty。 It had the good Wilton carpet； of which the
family was so proud； and the large couch and large chairs
covered with shiny chintz； and the piano； a little sculpture in
plaster that Brangwen had done； and not very much more。 It was
too large and emptyfeeling for the family to occupy very much。
Yet they liked to know it was there； large and empty。
The home was the diningroom。 There the hard rush
floorcovering made the ground light； reflecting light upon the
bottom their hearts； in the windowbay was a broad； sunny seat；
the table was so solid one could not jostle it； and the chairs
so strong one could knock them over without hurting them。 The
familiar an that Brangwen had made stood on one side； looking
peculiarly small； the sideboard was fortably reduced to
normal proportions。 This was the family livingroom。
Ursula had a bedroom to herself。 It was really a servants'
bedroom； small and plain。 Its window looked over the back garden
at other back gardens； some of them old and very nice； some of
them littered with packingcases； then at the backs of the
houses whose fronts were the shops in High Street； or the
genteel homes of the undermanager or the chief cashier； facing
the chapel。
She had six weeks still before going to college。 In this time
she nervously read over some Latin and some botany； and fitfully
worked at some mathematics。 She was going into college as a
teacher； for her training。 But； having already taken her
matriculation examination； she was entered for a university
course。 At the end of a year she would sit for the Intermediate
Arts； then two years after for her B。A。 So her case was not that
of the ordinary schoolteacher。 She would be working among the
private students who came only for pure education； not for mere
professional training。 She would be of the elect。
For the next three years she would be more or less dependent
on her parents again。 Her training was free。 All college fees
were paid by the government； she had moreover a few pounds grant
every year。 This would just pay for her train fares and her
clothing。 Her parents would only have to feed her。 She did not
want to cost them much。 They would not be well off。 Her father
would earn only two hundred a year； and a good deal of her
mother's capital was spent in buying the house。 Still； there was
enough to get along with。
Gudrun was attending the Art School at Nottingham。 She was
working particularly at sculpture。 She had a gift for this。 She
loved making little models in clay； of children or of animals。
Already some of these had appeared in the Students' Exhibition
in the Castle； and Gudrun was a distinguished person。 She was
chafing at the Art School and wanted to go to London。 But there
was not enough money。 Neither would her parents let her go so
far。
Theresa had left the High School。 She was a great strapping；
bold hussy； indifferent to all higher claims。 She would stay at
home。 The others were at school； except the youngest。 When term
started； they would all be transferred to the Grammar School at
Willey Green。
Ursula was excited at making acquaintances in Beldover。 The
excitement soon passed。 She had tea at the clergyman's； at the
chemist's； at the other chemist's； at the doctor's； at the
undermanager'sthen she knew practically everybody。 She
could not take people very seriously； though at the time she
wanted to。
She wandered the country； on foot and on her bicycle； finding
it very beautiful in the forest direction； between Mansfield and
Southwell and Worksop。 But she was here only skirmishing for
amusement。 Her real exploration would begin in college。
Term began。 She went into town each day by train。 The
cloistered quiet of the college began to close around her。
She was not at first disappointed。 The big college built of
stone； standing in the quiet street； with a rim of grass and
lime trees all so peaceful： she felt it remote； a magic land。
Its architecture was foolish； she knew from her father。 Still；
it was different from that of all other buildings。 Its rather
pretty； plaything； Gothic form was almost a style； in the dirty
industrial town。
She liked the hall； with its big stone chimneypiece and its
Gothic arches supporting the balcony above。 To be sure the
arches were ugly； the chimneypiece of cardboardlike carved
stone； with its armorial decoration； looked silly just opposite
the bicycle stand and the radiator； whilst the great
noticeboard with its fluttering papers seemed to slam away all
sense of retreat and mystery from the far wall。 Nevertheless；
amorphous as it might be； there was in it a reminiscence of the
wondrous； cloistral origin of education。 Her soul flew straight
back to the medieval times； when the monks of God held the
learning of men and imparted it within the shadow of religion。
In this spirit she entered college。
The harshness and vulgarity of the lobbies and cloakrooms
hurt her at first。 Why was it not all beautiful？ But she could
not openly admit her criticism。 She was on holy ground。
She wanted all the students to have a high； pure spirit； she
wanted them to say only the real； genuine things； she wanted
their faces to be still and luminous as the nuns' and the monks'
faces。
Alas； the girls chattered and giggled and were nervous； they
were dressed up and frizzed； the men looked mean and
clownish。
Still； it was lovely to pass along the corridor with one's
books in one's hands； to push the swinging； glasspanelled door；
and enter the big room where the first lecture would be given。
The windows were large and lofty； the myriad brown students'
desks stood waiting； the great blackboard was smooth behind the
rostrum。
Ursula sat beside her window； rather far back。 Looking down；
she saw the lime trees turning yellow； the tradesman's boy
passing silent down the still； autumnsunny street。 There was
the world； remote； remote。
Here； within the great； whispering seashell； that whispered
all the while with reminiscence of all the centuries； time faded
away； and the echo of knowledge filled the timeless silence。
She listened； she scribbled her notes with joy； almost with
ecstasy； never for a moment criticizing what she heard。 The
lecturer was a mouthpiece； a priest。 As he stood； blackgowned；
on the rostrum； some strands of the whispering confusion of
knowledge that filled the whole place seemed to be singled out
and woven together by him； till they became a lecture。
At first； she preserved herself from criticism。 She would not
consider the professors as men； ordinary men who ate bacon； and
pulled on their boots before ing to college。 They were the
blackgowned priests of knowledge； serving for ever in a remote；
hushed temple。 They were the initiated； and the beginning and
the end of the mystery was in their keeping。
Curious joy she had of the lectures。 It was a joy to hear the
theory of education； there was such freedom and pleasure in
ranging over the very stuff of knowledge； and seeing how it
moved and lived and had its being。 How happy Racine made her！
She did not know why。 But as the big lines of the drama unfolded
themselves； so steady； so measured； she felt a thrill as of
being in the realm of the reality。 Of Latin； she was doing Livy
and Horace。 The curious； intimate； gossiping tone of the Latin
class suited Horace。 Yet she never cared for him； nor even Livy。
There was an entire lack of sternness in the gossipy classroom。
She tried hard to keep her old grasp of the Roman spirit。 But
gradually the Latin became mere gossipstuff and artificiality
to her； a question of manners and verbosities。
Her terror was the mathematics class。 The lecturer went so
fast； her heart beat excitedly； she seemed to be straining every
nerve。 And she struggled hard； during private study； to get the
stuff into control。
Then came the lovely； peaceful afternoons in the botany
laboratory。 There were few students。 How she loved to sit on her
high stool before the bench； with her pith and her razor and her
material； carefully mounting her slides； carefully bringing her
microscope into focus； then turning with joy to record her
observation； drawing joyfully in her book； if the slide were
good。
She soon made a college friend； a girl who had lived in
Florence； a girl who wore a wonderful purple or figured scarf
draped over a plain； dark dress。 She was Dorothy Russell；
daughter of a southcountry advocate。 Dorothy lived with a
maiden aunt in Nottingham； and spent her spare moments slaving
for the Women's Social and Political Union。 She was quiet and
intense； with an ivory face and dark hair looped plain over her
ears。 Ursula was very fond of her； but afraid of her。 She seemed
so old and so relentless towards herself。 Yet she was only
twentytwo。 Ursula always felt her to be a creature of fate；
like Cassandra。
The two girls had a close； stern friendship。 Dorothy worked
at all things with the same passion； never sparing herself。 She
came closest to Ursula during the botany hours。 For she could
not draw。 Ursula made beautiful and wonderful drawings of the
sections under the microscope； and Dorothy always came to learn
the manner of the drawing。
So the first year went by； in magnificent seclusion and
activity of learning。 It was strenuous as a battle； her college
life； yet remote as peace。
She came to Nottingham in the morning with Gudrun。 The two
sisters were distinguished wherever they went； slim； strong
girls； eager and extremely sensitive。 Gudrun was the more
beautiful of the two； with her sleepy； halflanguid girlishness
that looked so soft； and yet was balanced and inalterable
underneath。 She wore soft； easy clothing； and hats which fell by
themselves into a careless grace。
Ursula was much more carefully dressed； but she was
selfconscious； always falling into depths of admiration of
someb