The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第113部分

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jewjaws。

Angry　and　stiff；　she　went　through　her　last　term。　She　would
rather　be　out　again　earning　her　own　living。　Even　Brinsley　Street
and　Mr。　Harby　seemed　real　in　parison。　Her　violent　hatred　of
the　Ilkeston　School　was　nothing　pared　with　the　sterile
degradation　of　college。　But　she　was　not　going　back　to　Brinsley
Street　either。　She　would　take　her　B。A。；　and　bee　a　mistress　in
some　Grammar　School　for　a　time。

The　last　year　of　her　college　career　was　wheeling　slowly
round。　She　could　see　ahead　her　examination　and　her　departure。
She　had　the　ash　of　disillusion　gritting　under　her　teeth。　Would
the　next　move　turn　out　the　same？　Always　the　shining　doorway
ahead；　and　then；　upon　approach；　always　the　shining　doorway　was　a
gate　into　another　ugly　yard；　dirty　and　active　and　dead。　Always
the　crest　of　the　hill　gleaming　ahead　under　heaven：　and　then；
from　the　top　of　the　hill　only　another　sordid　valley　full　of
amorphous；　squalid　activity。

No　matter！　Every　hilltop　was　a　little　different；　every
valley　was　somehow　new。　Cossethay　and　her　childhood　with　her
father；　the　Marsh　and　the　little　Church　school　near　the　Marsh；
and　her　grandmother　and　her　uncles；　the　High　School　at
Nottingham　and　Anton　Skrebensky；　Anton　Skrebensky　and　the　dance
in　the　moonlight　between　the　fires；　then　the　time　she　could　not
think　of　without　being　blasted；　Winifred　Inger；　and　the　months
before　being　a　schoolteacher；　then　the　horrors　of　Brinsley
Street；　lapsing　into　parative　peacefulness；　Maggie；　and
Maggie's　brother；　whose　influence　she　could　still　feel　in　her
veins；　when　she　conjured　him　up；　then　college；　and　Dorothy
Russell；　who　was　now　in　France；　then　the　next　move　into　the
world　again！

Already　it　was　a　history。　In　every　phase　she　was　so
different。　Yet　she　was　always　Ursula　Brangwen。　But　what　did　it
mean；　Ursula　Brangwen？　She　did　not　know　what　she　was。　Only　she
was　full　of　rejection；　of　refusal。　Always；　always　she　was
spitting　out　of　her　mouth　the　ash　and　grit　of　disillusion；　of
falsity。　She　could　only　stiffen　in　rejection；　in　rejection。　She
seemed　always　negative　in　her　action。

That　which　she　was；　positively；　was　dark　and　unrevealed；　it
could　not　e　forth。　It　was　like　a　seed　buried　in　dry　ash。　This
world　in　which　she　lived　was　like　a　circle　lighted　by　a　lamp。
This　lighted　area；　lit　up　by　man's　pletest　consciousness；　she
thought　was　all　the　world：　that　here　all　was　disclosed　for　ever。
Yet　all　the　time；　within　the　darkness　she　had　been　aware　of
points　of　light；　like　the　eyes　of　wild　beasts；　gleaming；
perating；　vanishing。　And　her　soul　had　acknowledged　in　a　great
heave　of　terror　only　the　outer　darkness。　This　inner　circle　of
light　in　which　she　lived　and　moved；　wherein　the　trains　rushed
and　the　factories　ground　out　their　machineproduce　and　the
plants　and　the　animals　worked　by　the　light　of　science　and
knowledge；　suddenly　it　seemed　like　the　area　under　an　arclamp；
wherein　the　moths　and　children　played　in　the　security　of
blinding　light；　not　even　knowing　there　was　any　darkness；　because
they　stayed　in　the　light。

But　she　could　see　the　glimmer　of　dark　movement　just　out　of
range；　she　saw　the　eyes　of　the　wild　beast　gleaming　from　the
darkness；　watching　the　vanity　of　the　camp　fire　and　the　sleepers；
she　felt　the　strange；　foolish　vanity　of　the　camp；　which　said
〃Beyond　our　light　and　our　order　there　is　nothing；〃　turning　their
faces　always　inward　towards　the　sinking　fire　of　illuminating
consciousness；　which　prised　sun　and　stars；　and　the　Creator；
and　the　System　of　Righteousness；　ignoring　always　the　vast
darkness　that　wheeled　round　about；　with　halfrevealed　shapes
lurking　on　the　edge。

Yea；　and　no　man　dared　even　throw　a　firebrand　into　the
darkness。　For　if　he　did　he　was　jeered　to　death　by　the　others；
who　cried　〃Fool；　antisocial　knave；　why　would　you　disturb　us
with　bogeys？　There　is　no　darkness。　We　move　and　live　and
have　our　being　within　the　light；　and　unto　us　is　given　the
eternal　light　of　knowledge；　we　prise　and　prehend　the
innermost　core　and　issue　of　knowledge。　Fool　and　knave；　how　dare
you　belittle　us　with　the　darkness？〃

Nevertheless　the　darkness　wheeled　round　about；　with　grey
shadowshapes　of　wild　beasts；　and　also　with　dark　shadowshapes
of　the　angels；　whom　the　light　fenced　out；　as　it　fenced　out　the
more　familiar　beasts　of　darkness。　And　some；　having　for　a　moment
seen　the　darkness；　saw　it　bristling　with　the　tufts　of　the　hyena
and　the　wolf；　and　some　having　given　up　their　vanity　of　the
light；　having　died　in　their　own　conceit；　saw　the　gleam　in　the
eyes　of　the　wolf　and　the　hyena；　that　it　was　the　flash　of　the
sword　of　angels；　flashing　at　the　door　to　e　in；　that　the
angels　in　the　darkness　were　lordly　and　terrible　and　not　to　be
denied；　like　the　flash　of　fangs。

It　was　a　little　while　before　Easter；　in　her　last　year　of
college；　when　Ursula　was　twentytwo　years　old；　that　she　heard
again　from　Skrebensky。　He　had　written　to　her　once　or　twice　from
South　Africa；　during　the　first　months　of　his　service　out　there
in　the　war；　and　since　had　sent　her　a　postcard　every　now　and
then；　at　ever　longer　intervals。　He　had　bee　a　first
lieutenant；　and　had　stayed　out　in　Africa。　She　had　not　heard　of
him　now　for　more　than　two　years。

Often　her　thoughts　returned　to　him。　He　seemed　like　the
gleaming　dawn；　yellow；　radiant；　of　a　long；　grey；　ashy　day。　The
memory　of　him　was　like　the　thought　of　the　first　radiant　hours　of
morning。　And　here　was　the　blank　grey　ashiness　of　later　daytime。
Ah；　if　he　had　only　remained　true　to　her；　she　might　have　known
the　sunshine；　without　all　this　toil　and　hurt　and　degradation　of
a　spoiled　day。　He　would　have　been　her　angel。　He　held　the　keys　of
the　sunshine。　Still　he　held　them。　He　could　open　to　her　the　gates
of　succeeding　freedom　and　delight。　Nay；　if　he　had　remained　true
to　her；　he　would　have　been　the　doorway　to　her；　into　the
boundless　sky　of　happiness　and　plunging；　inexhaustible　freedom
which　was　the　paradise　of　her　soul。　Ah；　the　great　range　he　would
have　opened　to　her；　the　illimitable　endless　space　for
selfrealization　and　delight　for　ever。

The　one　thing　she　believed　in　was　in　the　love　she　had　held
for　him。　It　remained　shining　and　plete；　a　thing　to　hark　back
to。　And　she　said　to　herself；　when　present　things　seemed　a
failure：

〃Ah；　I　was　fond　of　him；〃　as　if　with　him　the　leading
flower　of　her　life　had　died。

Now　she　heard　from　him　again。　The　chief　effect　was　pain。　The
pleasure；　the　spontaneous　joy　was　not　there　any　longer。　But　her
will　rejoiced。　Her　will　had　fixed　itself　to　him。　And　the
old　excitement　of　her　dreams　stirred　and　woke　up。　He　was　e；
the　man　with　the　wondrous　lips　that　could　send　the　kiss　wavering
to　the　very　end　of　all　space。　Was　he　e　back　to　her？　She　did
not　believe。

My　dear　Ursula；　I　am　back　in　England　again　for　a　few
months　before　going　out　again；　this　time　to　India。　I　wonder　if
you　still　keep　the　memory　of　our　times　together。　I　have　still
got　the　little　photograph　of　you。　You　must　be　changed　since
then；　for　it　is　about　six　years　ago。　I　am　fully　six　years
older；I　have　lived　through　another　life　since　I　knew　you
at　Cossethay。　I　wonder　if　you　would　care　to　see　me。　I　shall　e
up　to　Derby　next　week；　and　I　would　call　in　Nottingham；　and　we
might　have　tea　together。　Will　you　let　me　know？　I　shall　look　for
your　answer。

　Anton　Skrebensky

Ursula　had　taken　this　letter　from　the　rack　in　the　hall　at
college；　and　torn　it　open　as　she　crossed　to　the　Women's　room。
The　world　seemed　to　dissolve　away　from　around　her；　she　stood
alone　in　clear　air。

Where　could　she　go；　to　be　alone？　She　fled　away；　upstairs；　and
through　the　private　way　to　the　reference　library。　Seizing　a
book；　she　sat　down　and　pondered　the　letter。　Her　heart　beat；　her
limbs　trembled。　As　in　a　dream；　she　heard　one　gong　sound　in　the
college；　then；　strangely；　another。　The　first　lecture　had　gone
by。

Hurriedly　she　took　one　of　her　notebooks　and　began　to
write。

〃Dear　Anton；　Yes；　I　still　have　the　ring。　I　should　be　very
glad　to　see　you　again。　You　can　e　here　to　college　for　me；　or　I
will　meet　you　somewhere　in　the　town。　Will　you　let　me　know？　Your
sincere　friend〃

Trembling；　she　asked　the　librarian；　who　was　her　friend；　if　he
would　give　her　an　envelope。　She　sealed　and　addressed　her　letter；
and　went　out；　bareheaded；　to　post　i