The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第89章

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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
somebody　else；　and　modelling　herself　upon　this　other；　and　so
producing　a　hopeless　incongruity。　When　she　dressed　for　practical
purposes　she　always　looked　well。　In　winter；　wearing　a　tweed
coatandskirt　and　a　small　hat　of　black　fur　pulled　over　her
eager；　palpitant　face；　she　seemed　to　move　down　the　street　in　a
drifting　motion　of　suspense　and　exceeding　sensitive
receptivity。

At　the　end　of　the　first　year　Ursula　got　through　her
Intermediate　Arts　examination；　and　there　came　a　lull　in　her
eager　activities。　She　slackened　off；　she　relaxed　altogether。
Worn　nervous　and　inflammable　by　the　excitement　of　the
preparation　for　the　examination；　and　by　the　sort　of　exaltation
which　carried　her　through　the　crisis　itself；　she　now　fell　into　a
quivering　passivity；　her　will　all　loosened。

The　family　went　to　Scarborough　for　a　month。　Gudrun　and　the
father　were　busy　at　the　handicraft　holiday　school　there；　Ursula
was　left　a　good　deal　with　the　children。　But　when　she　could；　she
went　off　by　herself。

She　stood　and　looked　out　over　the　shining　sea。　It　was　very
beautiful　to　her。　The　tears　rose　hot　in　her　heart。

Out　of　the　far；　far　space　there　drifted　slowly　in　to　her　a
passionate；　unborn　yearning。　〃There　are　so　many　dawns　that　have
not　yet　risen。〃　It　seemed　as　if；　from　over　the　edge　of　the　sea；
all　the　unrisen　dawns　were　appealing　to　her；　all　her　unborn　soul
was　crying　for　the　unrisen　dawns。

As　she　sat　looking　out　at　the　tender　sea；　with　its　lovely；
swift　glimmer；　the　sob　rose　in　her　breast；　till　she　caught　her
lip　suddenly　under　her　teeth；　and　the　tears　were　forcing
themselves　from　her。　And　in　her　very　sob；　she　laughed。　Why　did
she　cry？　She　did　not　want　to　cry。　It　was　so　beautiful　that　she
laughed。　It　was　so　beautiful　that　she　cried。

She　glanced　apprehensively　round；　hoping　no　one　would　see　her
in　this　state。

Then　came　a　time　when　the　sea　was　rough。　She　watched　the
water　travelling　in　to　the　coast；　she　watched　a　big　wave　running
unnoticed；　to　burst　in　a　shock　of　foam　against　a　rock；
enveloping　all　in　a　great