The Rainbow

She was here in this hard, stark reality--reality. It

was queer that she should call this the reality, which she had

never known till to-day, and which now so filled her with dread

and dislike, that she wished she might go away. This was the

reality, and Cossethay, her beloved, beautiful, wellknown

Cossethay, which was as herself unto her, that was minor

reality. This prison of a school was reality. Here, then, she

would sit in state, the queen of scholars! Here she would

realize her dream of being the beloved teacher bringing light

and joy to her children! But the desks before her had an

abstract angularity that bruised her sentiment and made her

shrink. She winced, feeling she had been a fool in her

anticipations. She had brought her feelings and her generosity

to where neither generosity nor emotion were wanted. And already

she felt rebuffed, troubled by the new atmosphere, out of

place.

She slid down, and they returned to the teacher's room. It

was queer to feel that one ought to alter one's personality. She

was nobody, there was no reality in herself, the reality was all

outside of her, and she must apply herself to it.

Mr. Harby was in the teachers' room, standing before a big,

open cupboard, in which Ursula could see piles of pink

blotting-paper, heaps of shiny new books, boxes of chalk, and

bottles of coloured inks. It looked a treasure store.

The schoolmaster was a short, sturdy man, with a fine head,

and a heavy jowl. Nevertheless he was good-looking, with his

shapely brows and nose, and his great, hanging moustache. He

seemed absorbed in his work, and took no notice of Ursula's

entry. There was something insulting in the way he could be so

actively unaware of another person, so occupied.

When he had a moment of absence, he looked up from the table

and said good-morning to Ursula. There was a pleasant light in

his brown eyes. He seemed very manly and incontrovertible, like

something she wanted to push over.

"You had a wet walk," he said to Ursula.

"Oh, I don't mind, I'm used to it," she replied, with a

nervous little laugh.

But already he was not listening. Her words sounded

ridiculous and babbling. He was taking no notice of her.

"You will sign your name here," he said to her, as if she

were some child--"and the time when you come and go."

Ursula signed her name in the time book and stood back. No

one took any further notice of her. She beat her brains for

something to say, but in vain.

"I'd let them in now," said Mr. Harby to the thin man, who

was very hastily arranging his papers.

The assistant teacher made no sign of acquiescence, and went

on with what he was doing. The atmosphere in the room grew

tense. At the last moment Mr. Brunt slipped into his coat.