The Rainbow

At Christmas she would choose such fascinating Christmas

cards for them, and she would give them such a happy party in

one of the class-rooms.

The headmaster, Mr. Harby, was a short, thick-set, rather

common 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 dinner-bag.

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 tram-terminus 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 tram-car 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, comfortless 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 mounted--a 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.