It was midsummer； the days were glamorously long。 At about
half…past ten； when the bluey…black darkness had at last fallen；
they took rugs and climbed the steep track to the summit of the
downs； he and she。
Up there； the stars were big； the earth below was gone into
darkness。 She was free up there with the stars。 Far out they saw
tiny yellow lights……but it was very far out； at sea； or on
land。 She was free up among the stars。
She took off her clothes； and made him take off all his； and
they ran over the smooth； moonless turf； a long way； more than a
mile from where they had left their clothing； running in the
dark； soft wind； utterly naked； as naked as the downs
themselves。 Her hair was loose and blew about her shoulders； she
ran swiftly； wearing sandals when she set off on the long run to
the dew…pond。
In the round dew…pond the stars were untroubled。 She ventured
softly into the water； grasping at the stars with her hands。
And then suddenly she started back； running swiftly。 He was
there； beside her； but only on sufferance。 He was a screen for
her fears。 He served her。 She took him； she clasped him；
clenched him close； but her eyes were open looking at the stars；
it was as if the stars were lying with her and entering the
unfathomable darkness of her womb； fathoming her at last。 It was
not him。
The dawn came。 They stood together on a high place； an
earthwork of the stone…age men； watching for the light。 It came
over the land。 But the land was dark。 She watched a pale rim on
the sky； away against the darkened land。 The darkness became
bluer。 A little wind was running in from the sea behind。 It
seemed to be running to the pale rift of the dawn。 And she and
he darkly； on an outpost of the darkness； stood watching for the
dawn。
The light grew stronger； gushing up against the dark sapphire
of the transparent night。 The light grew stronger； whiter； then
over it hovered a flush of rose。 A flush of rose； and then
yellow； pale； new…created yellow； the whole quivering and
poising momentarily over the fountain on the sky's rim。
The rose hovered and quivered； burned； fused to flame； to a
transient red； while the yellow urged out in great waves； thrown
from the ever…increasing fountain； great waves of yellow
flinging into the sky； scattering its spray over the darkness；
which became bluer and bluer； paler； till soon it would itself
be a radiance； which had been darkness。
The sun was ing。 There was a quivering； a powerful
terrifying swim of molten light。 Then the molten source itself
surged forth； revealing itself。 The sun was in the sky； too
powerful to look at。
And the ground beneath lay so still； so peaceful。 Only now
and again a cock crew。 Otherwise； from the distant yellow hills
to the pine trees at the foot of the downs； everything was newly
washed into being； in a flood of new； golden creation。
It was so unutterably still and perfect with promise； the
golden…lighted； distinct land； that Ursula's soul rocked and
wept。 Suddenly he glanced at her。 The tears were running over
her cheeks； her mouth was working strangely。
〃What is the matter？〃 he asked。
After a moment's struggle with her voice。
〃It is so beautiful；〃 she said； looking at the glowing；
beautiful land。 It was so beautiful； so perfect； and so
unsullied。
He too realized what England would be in a few hours'
time……a blind； sordid； strenuous activity； all for nothing；
fuming with dirty smoke and running trains and groping in the
bowels of the earth； all for nothing。 A ghastliness came over
him。
He looked at Ursula。 Her face was wet with tears； very
bright； like a transfiguration in the refulgent light。 Nor was
his the hand to wipe away the burning； bright tears。 He stood
apart； overe by a cruel ineffectuality。
Gradually a great； helpless sorrow was rising in him。 But as
yet he was fighting it away； he was struggling for his own life。
He became very quiet and unaware of the things about him；
awaiting； as it were； her judgment on him。
They returned to Nottingham； the time of her examination
came。 She must go to London。 But she would not stay with him in
an hotel。 She would go to a quiet little pension near the
British Museum。
Those quiet residential squares of London made a great
impression on her mind。 They were very plete。 Her mind seemed
imprisoned in their quietness。 Who was going to liberate
her？
In the evening； her practical examinations being over； he
went with her to dinner at one of the hotels down the river；
near Richmond。 It was golden and beautiful； with yellow water
and white and scarlet…striped boat…awnings； and blue shadows
under the trees。
〃When shall we be married？〃 he asked her； quietly； simply； as
if it fort。
She watched the changing pleasure…traffic of the river。 He
looked at her golden； puzzled museau。 The knot gathered
in his throat。
〃I don't know；〃 she said。
A hot grief gripped his throat。
〃Why don't you know……don't you want to be married？〃 he
asked her。
Her head turned slowly； her face； puzzled； like a boy's face；
expressionless because she was trying to think； looked towards
his face。 She did not see him； because she was pre…occupied。 She
did not quite know what she was going to say。
〃I don't think I want to be married；〃 she said； and her
naive； troubled； puzzled eyes rested a moment on his； then
travelled away； pre…occupied。
〃Do you mean never； or not just yet？〃 he asked。
The knot in his throat grew harder； his face was drawn as if
he were being strangled。
〃I mean never；〃 she said； out of some far self which spoke
for once beyond her。
His drawn； strangled face watched her blankly for a few
moments； then a strange sound took place in his throat。 She
started； came to herself； and； horrified； saw him。 His head made
a queer motion； the chin jerked back against the throat； the
curious； crowing； hiccupping sound came again； his face twisted
like insanity； and he was crying； crying blind and twisted as if
something were broken which kept him in control。
〃Tony……don't；〃 she cried； starting up。
It tore every one of her nerves to see him。 He made groping
movements to get out of his chair。 But he was crying
uncontrollably； noiselessly； with his face twisted like a mask；
contorted and the tears running down the amazing grooves in his
cheeks。 Blindly； his face always this horrible working mask； he
groped for his hat； for his way down from the terrace。 It was
eight o'clock； but still brightly light。 The other people were
staring。 In great agitation； part of which was exasperation； she
stayed behind； paid the waiter with a half…sovereign； took her
yellow silk coat； then followed Skrebensky。
She saw him walking with brittle； blind steps along the path
by the river。 She could tell by the strange stiffness and
brittleness of his figure that he was still crying。 Hurrying
after him； running； she took his arm。
〃Tony；〃 she cried； 〃don't！ Why are you like this？ What are
you doing this for？ Don't。 It's not necessary。〃
He heard； and his manhood was cruelly； coldly defaced。 Yet it
was no good。 He could not gain control of his face。 His face；
his breast； were weeping violently； as if automatically。 His
will； his knowledge had nothing to do with it。 He simply could
not stop。
She walked holding his arm； silent with exasperation and
perplexity and pain。 He took the uncertain steps of a blind man；
because his mind was blind with weeping。
〃Shall we go home？ Shall we have a taxi？〃 she said。
He could pay no attention。 Very flustered； very agitated； she
signalled indefinitely to a taxi…cab that was going slowly by。
The driver saluted and drew up。 She opened the door and pushed
Skrebensky in； then took her own place。 Her face was uplifted；
the mouth closed down； she looked hard and cold and ashamed。 She
winced as the driver's dark red face was thrust round upon her；
a full…blooded； animal face with black eyebrows and a thick；
short…cut moustache。
〃Where to； lady？〃 he said； his white teeth showing。 Again for
a moment she was flustered。
〃Forty； Rutland Square；〃 she said。
He touched his cap and stolidly set the car in motion。 He
seemed to have a league with her to ignore Skrebensky。
The latter sat as if trapped within the taxi…cab； his face
still working； whilst occasionally he made quick slight
movements of the head； to shake away his tears。 He never moved
his hands。 She could not bear to look at him。 She sat with face
uplifted and averted to the window。
At length； when she had regained some control over herself；
she turned again to him。 He was much quieter。 His face was wet；
and twitched occasionally； his hands still lay motionless。 But
his eyes were quite still； like a washed sky after rain； full of
a ost ghost…like。
A pain flamed in her womb； for him。
〃I didn't think I should hurt you；〃 she said； laying her hand
very lightly； tentatively； on his arm。 〃The words came without
my knowing。 They didn't mean anything； really。〃
He remained quite still； hearing； but washed all wan and
without feeling。 She waited； looking at him； as if he were some
curious； not…understandable creature。
〃You won't cry again； will you； Tony？〃
Some shame and bitterness against her burned him in the
question。 She noticed how his moustache was soddened wet with
tears。 Taking her handkerchief； she wiped his face。 The driver's
heavy； stolid back remained always turned to them； as if
conscious but indifferent。 Skrebensky sat motionless whilst
Ursula wiped his face； softly； carefully； and yet clumsily； not
as well as he would have wiped it himself。
Her handkerchief was too small。 It was soon wet through。 She
groped in his pocket for his own。 Then； with its more ample
capacity； she carefully dried his face。 He remained motionless
all the while。 Then she drew his cheek to hers and kissed him。
His face was cold。 Her heart was hurt。 She saw the tears welling
quickly to his eyes again。 As if he were a child； she again
wiped away his tears。 By now she herself was on the point of
weeping。 Her underlip was caught between her teeth。
So she sat still； for fear of her own tears； sitting close by
him； holding his hand warm and close and loving。 Meanwhile the
car ran on；