ultimate home。 In the government; she knew which minister had
supreme control over Education; and it seemed to her that; in
some way; he was connected with her; as her father was connected
with her。
She had another self; another responsibility。 She was no
longer Ursula Brangwen; daughter of William Brangwen。 She was
also Standard Five teacher in St。 Philips School。 And it was a
case now of being Standard Five teacher; and nothing else。 For
she could not escape。
Neither could she succeed。 That was her horror。 As the weeks
passed on; there was no Ursula Brangwen; free and jolly。 There
was only a girl of that name obsessed by the fact that she could
not manage her class of children。 At week…ends there came days
of passionate reaction; when she went mad with the taste of
liberty; when merely to be free in the morning; to sit down at
her embroidery and stitch the coloured silks was a passion of
delight。 For the prison house was always awaiting her! This was
only a respite; as her chained heart knew well。 So that she
seized hold of the swift hours of the week…end; and wrung the
last drop of sweetness out of them; in a little; cruel
frenzy。
She did not tell anybody how this state was a torture to her。
She did not confide; either to Gudrun or to her parents; how
horrible she found it to be a school…teacher。 But when Sunday
night came; and she felt the Monday morning at hand; she was
strung up tight with dreadful anticipation; because the strain
and the torture was near again。
She did not believe that she could ever teach that great;
brutish class; in that brutal school: ever; ever。 And yet; if
she failed; she must in some way go under。 She must admit that
the mans world was too strong for her; she could not take her
place in it; she must go down before Mr。 Harby。 And all her life
henceforth; she must go on; never having freed herself of the
mans world; never having achieved the freedom of the great