The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第76章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


stop　at　home。〃

〃Nobody　wants　you　to　stop　at　home；〃　he　suddenly　shouted；
going　livid　with　rage。

She　said　no　more。　Her　nature　had　gone　hard　and　smiling　in　its
own　arrogance；　in　its　own　antagonistic　indifference　to　the　rest
of　them。　This　was　the　state　in　which　he　wanted　to　kill　her。　She
went　singing　into　the　parlour。

　　　C'est　la　mere　Michel　qui　a　perdu　son　chat；
　　　Qui　cri　par　la　fere　qu'estce　qui　le　lue　renda〃

During　the　next　days　Ursula　went　about　bright　and　hard；
singing　to　herself；　making　love　to　the　children；　but　her　soul
hard　and　cold　with　regard　to　her　parents。　Nothing　more　was　said。
The　hardness　and　brightness　lasted　for　four　days。　Then　it　began
to　break　up。　So　at　evening　she　said　to　her　father：

〃Have　you　spoken　about　a　place　for　me？〃

〃I　spoke　to　Mr。　Burt。〃

〃What　did　he　say？〃

〃There's　a　mittee　meeting　tomorrow。　He'll　tell　me　on
Friday。〃

So　she　waited　till　Friday。　KingstononThames　had　been　an
exciting　dream。　Here　she　could　feel　the　hard；　raw　reality。　So
she　knew　that　this　would　e　to　pass。　Because　nothing　was　ever
fulfilled；　she　found；　except　in　the　hard　limited　reality。　She
did　not　want　to　be　a　teacher　in　Ilkeston；　because　she　knew
Ilkeston；　and　hated　it。　But　she　wanted　to　be　free；　so　she　must
take　her　freedom　where　she　could。

On　Friday　her　father　said　there　was　a　place　vacant　in
Brinsley　Street　school。　This　could　most　probably　be　secured　for
her；　at　once；　without　the　trouble　of　application。

Her　heart　halted。　Brinsley　Street　was　a　school　in　a　poor
quarter；　and　she　had　had　a　taste　of　the　mon　children　of
Ilkeston。　They　had　shouted　after　her　and　thrown　stones。　Still；
as　a　teacher；　she　would　be　in　authority。　And　it　was　all　unknown。
She　was　excited。　The　very　forest　of　dry；　sterile　brick　had　some
fascination　for　her。　It　was　so　hard　and　ugly；　so　relentlessly
ugly；　it　would　purge　her　of　some　of　her　floating
sentimentality。

She　dreamed　how　she　would　make　the　little；　ugly　children　love
her。　She　would　be　so　personal。　Teachers　were　always　so
hard　and　impersonal。　There　was　no　vivid　relationship。　She　would
make　everything　personal　and　vivid；　she　would　give　herself；　she
would　give；　give；　give　all　her　great　stores　of　wealth　to　her
children；　she　would　make　them　so　happy；　and　they　would　prefer
her　to　any　teacher　on　the　face　of　the　earth。

At　Christmas　she　would　choose　such　fascinating　Christmas
cards　for　them；　and　she　would　give　them　such　a　happy　party　in
one　of　the　classrooms。

The　headmaster；　Mr。　Harby；　was　a　short；　thickset；　rather
mon　man；　she　thought。　But　she　would　hold　before　him　the　light
of　grace　and　refinement；　he　would　have　her　in　such　high　esteem
before　long。　She　would　be　the　gleaming　sun　of　the　school；　the
children　would　blossom　like　little　weeds；　the　teachers　like
tall；　hard　plants　would　burst　into　rare　flower。

The　Monday　morning　came。　It　was　the　end　of　September；　and　a
drizzle　of　fine　rain　like　veils　round　her；　making　her　seem
intimate；　a　world　to　herself。　She　walked　forward　to　the　new
land。　The　old　was　blotted　out。　The　veil　would　be　rent　that　hid
the　new　world。　She　was　gripped　hard　with　suspense　as　she　went
down　the　hill　in　the　rain；　carrying　her　dinnerbag。

Through　the　thin　rain　she　saw　the　town；　a　black；　extensive
mount。　She　must　enter　in　upon　it。　She　felt　at　once　a　feeling　of
repugnance　and　of　excited　fulfilment。　But　she　shrank。

She　waited　at　the　terminus　for　the　tram。　Here　it　was
beginning。　Before　her　was　the　station　to　Nottingham；　whence
Theresa　had　gone　to　school　half　an　hour　before；　behind　her　was
the　little　church　school　she　had　attended　when　she　was　a　child；
when　her　grandmother　was　alive。　Her　grandmother　had　been　dead
two　years　now。　There　was　a　strange　woman　at　the　Marsh；　with　her
Uncle　Fred；　and　a　small　baby。　Behind　her　was　Cossethay；　and
blackberries　were　ripe　on　the　hedges。

As　she　waited　at　the　tramterminus　she　reverted　swiftly　to
her　childhood；　her　teasing　grandfather；　with　his　fair　beard　and
blue　eyes；　and　his　big；　monumental　body；　he　had　got　drowned：　her
grandmother；　whom　Ursula　would　sometimes　say　she　had　loved　more
than　anyone　else　in　the　world：　the　little　church　school；　the
Phillips　boys；　one　was　a　soldier　in　the　Life　Guards　now；　one　was
a　collier。　With　a　passion　she　clung　to　the　past。

But　as　she　dreamed　of　it；　she　heard　the　tramcar　grinding
round　a　bend；　rumbling　dully；　she　saw　it　draw　into　sight；　and
hum　nearer。　It　sidled　round　the　loop　at　the　terminus；　and　came
to　a　standstill；　looming　above　her。　Some　shadowy　grey　people
stepped　from　the　far　end；　the　conductor　was　walking　in　the
puddles；　swinging　round　the　pole。

She　mounted　into　the　wet；　fortless　tram；　whose　floor　was
dark　with　wet；　whose　windows　were　all　steamed；　and　she　sat　in
suspense。　It　had　begun；　her　new　existence。

One　other　passenger　mounteda　sort　of　charwoman　with　a
drab；　wet　coat。　Ursula　could　not　bear　the　waiting　of　the　tram。
The　bell　clanged；　there　was　a　lurch　forward。　The　car　moved
cautiously　down　the　wet　street。　She　was　being　carried　forward；
into　her　new　existence。　Her　heart　burned　with　pain　and　suspense；
as　if　something　were　cutting　her　living　tissue。

Often；　oh　often　the　tram　seemed　to　stop；　and　wet；　cloaked
people　mounted　and　sat　mute　and　grey　in　stiff　rows　opposite　her；
their　umbrellas　between　their　knees。　The　windows　of　the　tram
grew　more　steamy；　opaque。　She　was　shut　in　with　these　unliving；
spectral　people。　Even　yet　it　did　not　occur　to　her　that　she　was
one　of　them。　The　conductor　came　down　issuing　tickets。　Each
little　ring　of　his　clipper　sent　a　pang　of　dread　through　her。　But
her　ticket　surely　was　different　from　the　rest。

They　were　all　going　to　work；　she　also　was　going　to　work。　Her
ticket　was　the　same。　She　sat　trying　to　fit　in　with　them。　But
fear　was　at　her　bowels；　she　felt　an　unknown；　terrible　grip　upon
her。

At　Bath　Street　she　must　dismount　and　change　trams。　She　looked
uphill。　It　seemed　to　lead　to　freedom。　She　remembered　the　many
Saturday　afternoons　she　had　walked　up　to　the　shops。　How　free　and
careless　she　had　been！

Ah；　her　tram　was　sliding　gingerly　downhill。　She　dreaded　every
yard　of　her　conveyance。　The　car　halted；　she　mounted　hastily。

She　kept　turning　her　head　as　the　car　ran　on；　because　she　was
uncertain　of　the　street。　At　last；　her　heart　a　flame　of　suspense；
trembling；　she　rose。　The　conductor　rang　the　bell　brusquely。

She　was　walking　down　a　small；　mean；　wet　street；　empty　of
people。　The　school　squatted　low　within　its　railed；　asphalt　yard；
that　shone　black　with　rain。　The　building　was　grimy；　and
horrible；　dry　plants　were　shadowily　looking　through　the
windows。

She　entered　the　arched　doorway　of　the　porch。　The　whole　place
seemed　to　have　a　threatening　expression；　imitating　the　church's
architecture；　for　the　purpose　of　domineering；　like　a　gesture　of
vulgar　authority。　She　saw　that　one　pair　of　feet　had　paddled
across　the　flagstone　floor　of　the　porch。　The　place　was　silent；
deserted；　like　an　empty　prison　waiting　the　return　of　tramping
feet。

Ursula　went　forward　to　the　teachers'　room　that　burrowed　in　a
gloomy　hole。　She　knocked　timidly。

〃e　in！〃　called　a　surprised　man's　voice；　as　from　a　prison
cell。　She　entered　the　dark　little　room　that　never　got　any　sun。
The　gas　was　lighted　naked　and　raw。　At　the　table　a　thin　man　in
shirtsleeves　was　rubbing　a　paper　on　a　jellytray。　He　looked　up
at　Ursula　with　his　narrow；　sharp　face；　said　〃Good　morning；〃　then
turned　away　again；　and　stripped　the　paper　off　the　tray；　glancing
at　the　violetcoloured　writing　transferred；　before　he　dropped
the　curled　sheet　aside　among　a　heap。

Ursula　watched　him　fascinated。　In　the　gaslight　and　gloom　and
the　narrowness　of　the　room；　all　seemed　unreal。

〃Isn't　it　a　nasty　morning；〃　she　said。

〃Yes；〃　he　said；　〃it's　not　much　of　weather。〃

But　in　here　it　seemed　that　neither　morning　nor　weather　really
existed。　This　place　was　timeless。　He　spoke　in　an　occupied　voice；
like　an　echo。　Ursula　did　not　know　what　to　say。　She　took　off　her
waterproof。

〃Am　I　early？〃　she　asked。

The　man　looked　first　at　a　little　clock；　then　at　her。　His　eyes
seemed　to　be　sharpened　to　needlepoints　of　vision。

〃Twentyfive　past；〃　he　said。　〃You're　the　second　to　e。　I'm
first　this　morning。〃

Ursula　sat　down　gingerly　on　the　edge　of　a　chair；　and　watched
his　thin　red　hands　rubbing　away　on　the　white　surface　of　the
paper；　then　pausing；　pulling　up　a　corner　of　the　sheet；　peering；
and　rubbing　away　again。　There　was　a　great　heap　of　curled
whiteandscribbled　sheets　on　the　table。

〃Must　you　do　so　many？〃　asked　Ursula。

Again　the　man　glanced　up　sharply。　He　was　about　thirty　or
thirtythree　years　old；　thin；　greenish；　with　a　long　nose　and　a
sharp　face。　His　eyes　were　blue；　and　sharp　as　points　of　steel；
rather　beautiful；　the　girl　thought。

〃Sixtythree；〃　he　answered。

〃So　many！〃　she　said；　gently。　Then　she　remembered。

〃But　they're　not　all　for　your　class；　are　they？〃　she
added。

〃Why　aren't　they？〃　he　replied；　a　fierceness　in　his　voice。

Ursula　was　rather　frightened　by　his　mechanical　ignoring　of
her；　and　his　directness　of　statement。　It　was　something　new　to
her。　She　had　never　been　treated　like　this　before；　as　if　she　did
not　count；　as　if　she　were　addressing　a　machine。

〃It　is　too　many；〃　she　said　sympathetically。

〃You'll　get　about　the　same；〃　he　said。

That　was　all　she　received。　She　sat　rather　blank；　not　knowing
how　to　feel。　Still　she　liked　him。　He　seemed　so　cross。　There　was
a　queer；　sharp；　keenedge　feeling　about　him　that　attracted　her
and　frightened　her　at　the　same　time。　It　was　so　cold；　and　against
his　nature。

The　door　opened；　and　a　short；　neutraltinted　young　woman　of
about　twentyeight　appeared。

〃Oh；　Ursula！〃　the　newer　exclaimed。　〃You　are　here　early！　My
word；　I'll　warrant　you　don't　keep　it　up。　That's　Mr。　Williamson's
peg。　This　is　yours。　Standard　Five　teacher　always　has　this。
Aren't　you　going　to　take　your　hat　off？〃

Miss　Violet　Harby　removed　Ursula's　waterproof　from　the　peg　on
which　it　was　hung；　to　one　a　little　farther　down　the　row。　She　had
already　snatched　the　pins　from　her　own　stuff　hat；　and　jammed
them　through　her　coat。　She　turned　to　Ursula；　as　she　pushed　up
her　frizzed；　flat；　duncoloured　hair。

〃Isn't　it　a　beastly　morning；〃　she　exclaimed；　〃beastly！　And　if
there's　one　thing　I　hate　above　another　it's　a　wet　Monday
morn