The Rainbow

"I am "Your Sincere Friend, "Ursula Brangwen."

It bored her to write a letter even to him. After all,

writing words on paper had nothing to do with him and her.

The fine weather had set in, the cutting machine went on from

dawn till sunset, chattering round the fields. She heard from

Skrebensky; he too was on duty in the country, on Salisbury

Plain. He was now a second lieutenant in a Field Troop. He would

have a few days off shortly, and would come to the Marsh for the

wedding.

Fred Brangwen was going to marry a schoolmistress out of

Ilkeston as soon as corn-harvest was at an end.

The dim blue-and-gold of a hot, sweet autumn saw the close of

the corn-harvest. To Ursula, it was as if the world had opened

its softest purest flower, its chicory flower, its meadow

saffron. The sky was blue and sweet, the yellow leaves down the

lane seemed like free, wandering flowers as they chittered round

the feet, making a keen, poignant, almost unbearable music to

her heart. And the scents of autumn were like a summer madness

to her. She fled away from the little, purple-red

button-chrysanthemums like a frightened dryad, the bright yellow

little chrysanthemums smelled so strong, her feet seemed to

dither in a drunken dance.

Then her Uncle Tom appeared, always like the cynical Bacchus

in the picture. He would have a jolly wedding, a harvest supper

and a wedding feast in one: a tent in the home close, and a band

for dancing, and a great feast out of doors.

Fred demurred, but Tom must be satisfied. Also Laura, a

handsome, clever girl, the bride, she also must have a great and

jolly feast. It appealed to her educated sense. She had been to

Salisbury Training College, knew folk-songs and

morris-dancing.

So the preparations were begun, directed by Tom Brangwen. A

marquee was set up on the home close, two large bonfires were

prepared. Musicians were hired, feast made ready.

Skrebensky was to come, arriving in the morning. Ursula had a

new white dress of soft crepe, and a white hat. She liked to

wear white. With her black hair and clear golden skin, she

looked southern, or rather tropical, like a Creole. She wore no

colour whatsoever.

She trembled that day as she appeared to go down to the

wedding. She was to be a bridesmaid. Skrebensky would not arrive

till afternoon. The wedding was at two o'clock.

As the wedding-party returned home, Skrebensky stood in the

parlour at the Marsh. Through the window he saw Tom Brangwen,

who was best man, coming up the garden path most elegant in

cut-away coat and white slip and spats, with Ursula laughing on

his arm. Tom Brangwen was handsome, with his womanish colouring

and dark eyes and black close-cut moustache. But there was

something subtly coarse and suggestive about him for all his

beauty; his strange, bestial nostrils opened so hard and wide,

and his well-shaped head almost disquieting in its nakedness,

rather bald from the front, and all its soft fulness

betrayed.