CHAPTER XI.

AN ISLAND

Meanwhile Ursula had wandered on from Willey Water along the course of the bright little stream. The afternoon was full of larks’ singing. On the bright hill–sides was a subdued smoulder of gorse. A few forget–me–nots flowered by the water. There was a rousedness and a glancing everywhere.

CHAPTER XXXI.

EXEUNT

When they brought the body home, the next morning, Gudrun was shut up in her room. From her window she saw men coming along with a burden, over the snow. She sat still and let the minutes go by.

There came a tap at her door. She opened. There stood a woman, saying softly, oh, far too reverently:

‘They have found him, madam!’

CHAPTER XXX.

SNOWED UP

When Ursula and Birkin were gone, Gudrun felt herself free in her contest with Gerald. As they grew more used to each other, he seemed to press upon her more and more. At first she could manage him, so that her own will was always left free.

CHAPTER XXIX.

CONTINENTAL

Ursula went on in an unreal suspense, the last weeks before going away. She was not herself,—she was not anything. She was something that is going to be—soon—soon—very soon. But as yet, she was only imminent.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

GUDRUN IN THE POMPADOUR

Christmas drew near, all four prepared for flight. Birkin and Ursula were busy packing their few personal things, making them ready to be sent off, to whatever country and whatever place they might choose at last. Gudrun was very much excited. She loved to be on the wing.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FLITTING

That evening Ursula returned home very bright–eyed and wondrous—which irritated her people. Her father came home at suppertime, tired after the evening class, and the long journey home. Gudrun was reading, the mother sat in silence.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A CHAIR

There was a jumble market every Monday afternoon in the old market–place in town. Ursula and Birkin strayed down there one afternoon.

CHAPTER XXV.

MARRIAGE OR NOT

The Brangwen family was going to move from Beldover. It was necessary now for the father to be in town.

CHAPTER XXIV.

DEATH AND LOVE

Thomas Crich died slowly, terribly slowly. It seemed impossible to everybody that the thread of life could be drawn out so thin, and yet not break. The sick man lay unutterably weak and spent, kept alive by morphia and by drinks, which he sipped slowly.

CHAPTER XXIII.

EXCURSE

Next day Birkin sought Ursula out. It happened to be the half–day at the Grammar School. He appeared towards the end of the morning, and asked her, would she drive with him in the afternoon. She consented. But her face was closed and unresponding, and his heart sank.