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she came near。 She could make their eyes light up and quiver；
she could make Anthony； the eldest； twist and twist his
moustache。 She knew she could move them almost at will with her
light laughter and chatter。 They loved her ideas； watched her as
she talked vehemently about politics or economics。 And she；
while she talked； saw the goldenbrown eyes of Anthony gleam
like the eyes of a satyr as they watched her。 He did not listen
to her words； he listened to her。 It excited her。
He was like a faun pleased when she would go with him over
his hothouses； to look at the green and pretty plants； at the
pink primulas nodding among their leaves； and cinarrias
flaunting purple and crimson and white。 She asked about
everything； and he told her very exactly and minutely； in a
queer pedantic way that made her want to laugh。 Yet she was
really interested in what he did。 And he had the curious light
in his face； like the light in the eyes of the goat that was
tethered by the farmyard gate。
She went down with him into the warmish cellar； where already
in the darkness the little yellow knobs of rhubarb were ing。
He held the lantern down to the dark earth。 She saw the tiny
knobend of the rhubarb thrusting upwards upon the thick red
stem； thrusting itself like a knob of flame through the soft
soil。 His face was turned up to her； the light glittered on his
eyes and his teeth as he laughed； with a faint； musical neigh。
He looked handsome。 And she heard a new sound in her ears； the
faintlymusical； neighing laugh of Anthony； whose moustache
twisted up； and whose eyes were luminous with a cold； steady；
arrogantlaughing glare。 There seemed a little prance of triumph
in his movement； she could not rid herself of a movement of
acquiescence； a touch of acceptance。 Yet he was so humble； his
voice was so caressing。 He held his hand for her to step on when
she must climb a wall。 And she stepped on the living firmness of
him； that quivered firmly under her weight。
She was aware of him as if in a mesmeric state。 In her
ordinary sense； she had nothing to do with him。 But the peculiar
ease and unnoticeableness of his entering the house； the power
of his cold； gleaming light on her when he looked at her； was
like a bewitchment。 In his eyes； as in the pale grey eyes of a
goat； there seemed some of that steady； hard fire of moonlight
which has nothing to do with the day。 It made her alert； and yet
her mind went out like an extinguished thing。 She was all
senses； all her senses were alive。
Then she saw him on Sunday； dressed up in Sunday clothes；
trying to impress her。 And he looked ridiculous。 She clung to
the ridiculous effect of his stiff； Sunday clothes。
She was always conscious of some unfaithfulness to Maggie； on
Anthony's score。 Poor Maggie stood apart as if betrayed。 Maggie
and Anthony were enemies by instinct。 Ursula had to go back to
her friend brimming with affection and a poignancy of pity。
Which Maggie received with a little stiffness。 Then poetry and
books and learning took the place of Anthony； with his goats'
movements and his cold； gleaming humour。
While Ursula was at Belcote； the snow fell。 In the morning； a
covering of snow weighed on the rhododendron bushes。
〃Shall we go out？〃 said Maggie。
She had lost some of her leader's sureness； and was now
tentative； a little in reserve from her friend。
They took the key of the gate and wandered into the park。 It
was a white world on which dark trees and tree masses stood
under a sky keen with frost。 The two girls went past the hall；
that was shuttered and silent； their footprints marking the snow
on the drive。 Down the park； a long way off； a man was carrying
armfuls of hay across the snow。 He was a small； dark figure；
like an animal moving in its unawareness。
Ursula and Maggie went on exploring； down to a tinkling；
chilly brook； that had worn the snow away in little scoops； and
ran dark between。 They saw a robin glance its bright eyes and
burst scarlet and grey into the hedge； then some pertlymarked
bluetits scuffled。 Meanwhile the brook slid on coldly；
chuckling to itself。
The girls wandered across the snowy grass to where the
artificial fishponds lay under thin ice。 There was a big tree
with a thick trunk twisted with ivy； that hung almost horizontal
over the ponds。 Ursula climbed joyfully into this and sat amid
bosses of bright ivy and dull berries。 Some ivy leaves were like
green spears held out； and tipped with snow。 The ice was seen
beneath them。
Maggie took out a book； and sitting lower down the trunk
began to read Coleridge's 〃Christabel〃。 Ursula half listened。
She was wildly thrilled。 Then she saw Anthony ing across the
snow； with his confident； slightly strutting stride。 His face
looked brown and hard against the snow； smiling with a sort of
tense confidence。
〃Hello！〃 she called to him。
A response went over his face； his head was lifted in an
answering； jerking gesture。
〃Hello！〃 he said。 〃You're like a bird in there。〃
And Ursula's laugh rang out。 She answered to the peculiar；
reedy twang in his perating voice。
She did not think of Anthony； yet she lived in a sort of
connection with him； in his world。 One evening she met him as
she was ing down the lane； and they walked side by side。
〃I think it's so lovely here；〃 she cried。
〃Do you？〃 he said。 〃I'm glad you like it。〃
There was a curious confidence in his voice。
〃Oh； I love it。 What more does one want than to live in this
beautiful place； and make things grow in your garden。 It is like
the Garden of Eden。〃
〃Is it？〃 he said； with a little laugh。 〃Yeswell； it's
not so bad〃 he was hesitating。 The pale gleam was
strong in his eyes； he was looking at her steadily； watching
her； as an animal might。 Something leaped in her soul。 She knew
he was going to suggest to her that she should be as he was。
〃Would you like to stay here with me？〃 he asked；
tentatively。
She blenched with fear and with the intense sensation of
proffered licence suggested to her。
They had e to the gate。
〃How？〃 she asked。 〃You aren't alone here。〃
〃We could marry；〃 he answered； in the strange；
coldlygleaming insinuating tone that chilled the sunshine into
moonlight。 All substantial things seemed transformed。 Shadows
and dancing moonlight were real； and all cold； inhuman； gleaming
sensations。 She realized with something like terror that she was
going to accept this。 She was going inevitably to accept him。
His hand was reaching out to the gate before them。 She stood
still。 His flesh was hard and brown and final。 She seemed to be
in the grip of some insult。
〃I couldn't；〃 she answered； involuntarily。
He gave the same brief； neighing little laugh； very sad and
bitter now； and slotted back the bar of the gate。 Yet he did not
open。 For a moment they both stood looking at the fire of sunset
that quivered among the purple twigs of the trees。 She saw his
brown； hard； wellhewn face gleaming with anger and humiliation
and submission。 He was an animal that knows that it is subdued。
Her heart flamed with sensation of him； of the fascinating thing
he offered her； and with sorrow； and with an inconsolable sense
of loneliness。 Her soul was an infant crying in the night。 He
had no soul。 Oh； and why had she？ He was the cleaner。
She turned away； she turned round from him； and saw the east
flushed strangely rose； the moon ing yellow and lovely upon a
rosy sky； above the darkening； bluish snow。 All this so
beautiful； all this so lovely！ He did not see it。 He was one
with it。 But she saw it； and was one with it。 Her seeing
separated them infinitely。
They went on in silence down the path； following their
different fates。 The trees grew darker and darker； the snow made
only a dimness in an unreal world。 And like a shadow； the day
had gone into a faintly luminous； snowy evening； while she was
talking aimlessly to him； to keep him at a distance； yet to keep
him near her； and he walked heavily。 He opened the garden gate
for her quietly； and she was entering into her own pleasances；
leaving him outside the gate。
Then even whilst she was escaping； or trying to escape； this
feeling of pain； came Maggie the next day； sayin