Swanwick in Derbyshire。
Gillingham was such a lovely name； and Kent was the Garden of
England。 So that； in Gillingham； an old； old village by the
hopfields； where the sun shone softly； she came out of school in
the afternoon into the shadow of the plane trees by the gate；
and turned down the sleepy road towards the cottage where
cornflowers poked their blue heads through the old wooden fence；
and phlox stood built up of blossom beside the path。
A delicate； silver…haired lady rose with delicate； ivory
hands uplifted as Ursula entered the room； and：
〃Oh； my dear； what do you think！〃
〃What is it； Mrs。 Wetherall？〃
Frederick had e home。 Nay； his manly step was heard on the
stair； she saw his strong boots； his blue trousers； his
uniformed figure； and then his face； clean and keen as an
eagle's； and his eyes lit up with the glamour of strange seas；
ah； strange seas that had woven through his soul； as he
descended into the kitchen。
This dream； with its amplifications； lasted her a mile of
walking。 Then she went to Kingston…on…Thames。
Kingston…on…Thames was an old historic place just south of
London。 There lived the well…born dignified souls who belonged
to the metropolis； but who loved peace。 There she met a
wonderful family of girls living in a large old Queen Anne
house； whose lawns sloped to the river； and in an atmosphere of
stately peace she found herself among her soul's intimates。 They
loved her as sisters； they shared with her all noble
thoughts。
She was happy again。 In her musings she spread her poor；
clipped wings； and flew into the pure empyrean。
Day followed day。 She did not speak to her parents。 Then came
the return of her testimonials from Gillingham。 She was not
wanted； neither at Swanwick。 The bitterness of rejection
followed the sweets of hope。 Her bright feathers were in the
dust again。
Then； suddenly； after a fortnight； came an intimation from
Kingston…on…Thames。 She was to appear at the Education Office of
that town on the following Thursday； for an interview with the
mittee。 Her heart stood still。 She knew she would make the
mittee accept her。 Now she was afraid； now that her removal
was imminent。 Her heart quivered with fear and reluctance。 But
underneath her purpose was fixed。
She passed shadowily through the day； unwilling to tell her
news to her mother； waiting for her father。 Suspense and fear
were strong upon her。 She dreaded going to Kingston。 Her easy
dreams disappeared from the grasp of reality。
And yet； as the afternoon wore away； the sweetness of the
dream returned again。 Kingston…on…Thames……there was such
sound of dignity to her。 The shadow of history and the glamour
of stately progress enveloped her。 The palaces would be old and
darkened； the place of kings obscured。 Yet it was a place of
kings for her……Richard and Henry and Wolsey and Queen
Elizabeth。 She divined great lawns with noble trees； and
terraces whose steps the water washed softly； where the swans
sometimes came to earth。 Still she must see the stately；
gorgeous barge of the Queen float down； the crimson carpet put
upon the landing stairs； the gentlemen in their purple…velvet
cloaks； bare…headed； standing in the sunshine grouped on either
side waiting。
〃Sweet Thames； run softly till I end my song。〃
Evening came； her father returned home； sanguine and alert
and detached as ever。 He was less real than her fancies。 She
waited whilst he ate his tea。 He took big mouthfuls； big bites；
and ate unconsciously with the same abandon an animal gives to
its food。
Immediately after tea he went over to the church。 It was
choir…practice； and he wanted to try the tunes on his organ。
The latch of the big door clicked loudly as she came after
him； but the organ rolled more loudly still。 He was unaware。 He
was practicing the anthem。 She saw his small； jet…black head and
alert face between the candle…flames； his slim body sagged on
the music…stool。 His face was so luminous and fixed； the
movements of his limbs seemed strange； apart from him。 The sound
of the organ seemed to belong to the very stone of the pillars；
like sap running in them。
Then there was a close of music and silence。
〃Father！〃 she said。
He looked round as if at an apparition。 Ursula stood
shadowily within the candle…light。
〃What now？〃 he said； not ing to earth。
It was difficult to speak to him。
〃I've got a situation；〃 she said； forcing herself to
speak。
〃You've got what？〃 he answered； unwilling to e out of his
mood of organ…playing。 He closed the music before him。
〃I've got a situation to go to。〃
Then he turned to her； still abstracted； unwilling。
〃Oh； where's that？〃 he said。
〃At Kingston…on…Thames。 I must go on Thursday for an
interview with the mittee。〃
〃You must go on Thursday？〃
〃Yes。〃
And she handed him the letter。 He read it by the light of the
candles。
〃Ursula Brangwen； Yew Tree Cottage； Cossethay；
Derbyshire。
〃Dear Madam； You are requested to call at the above offices
on Thursday next； the 10th； at 11。30 a。m。； for an interview with
the mittee； referring to your application for the post of
assistant mistress at the Wellingborough Green Schools。〃
It was very difficult for Brangwen to take in this remote and
official information； glowing as he was within the quiet of his
church and his anthem music。
〃Well； you needn't bother me with it now； need you？' he said
impatiently； giving her back the letter。
〃I've got to go on Thursday；〃 she said。
He sat motionless。 Then he reached more music； and there was
a rushing sound of air； then a long； emphatic trumpet…note of
the organ； as he laid his hands on the keys。 Ursula turned and
went away。
He tried to give himself again to the organ。 But he could
not。 He could not get back。 All the time a sort of string was
tugging； tugging him elsewhere； miserably。
So that when he came into the house after choir…practice his
face was dark and his heart black。 He said nothing however；
until all the younger children were in bed。 Ursula； however；
knew what was brewing。
At length he asked：
〃Where's that letter？〃
She gave it to him。 He sat looking at it。 〃You are requested
to call at the above offices on Thursday next〃 It
was a cold； official notice to Ursula herself and had nothing to
do with him。 So！ She existed now as a separate social
individual。 It was for her to answer this note； without regard
to him。 He had even no right to interfere。 His heart was hard
and angry。
〃You had to do it behind our backs； had you？〃 he said； with a
sneer。 And her heart leapt with hot pain。 She knew she was
free……she had broken away from him。 He was beaten。
〃You said； 'let her try；'〃 she retorted； almost apologizing
to him。
He did not hear。 He sat looking at the letter。
〃Education Office； Kingston…on…Thames〃……and then the
typewritten 〃Miss Ursula Brangwen； Yew Tree Cottage； Cossethay。〃
It was all so plete and so final。 He could not but feel the
new position Ursula held； as recipient of that letter。 It was an
iron in his soul。
〃Well；〃 he said at length； 〃you're not going。〃
Ursula started and could find no words to clamour her
revolt。
〃If you think you're goin