noble life。
It was a grief to her that her father made such a poor
introduction。 He was brief as ever; like a boy saying his
errand; and his clothes looked ill…fitting and casual。 Whereas
Ursula would have liked robes and a ceremonial of introduction
to this; her new estate。
She made a new illusion of school。 Miss Grey; the
headmistress; had a certain silvery; school…mistressy beauty of
character。 The school itself had been a gentlemans house。 Dark;
sombre lawns separated it from the dark; select avenue。 But its
rooms were large and of good appearance; and from the back; one
looked over lawns and shrubbery; over the trees and the grassy
slope of the Arboretum; to the town which heaped the hollow with
its roofs and cupolas and its shadows。
So Ursula seated herself upon the hill of learning; looking
down on the smoke and confusion and the manufacturing; engrossed
activity of the town。 She was happy。 Up here; in the Grammar
School; she fancied the air was finer; beyond the factory smoke。
She wanted to learn Latin and Greek and French and mathematics。
She trembled like a postulant when she wrote the Greek alphabet
for the first time。
She was upon another hill…slope; whose summit she had not
scaled。 There was always the marvellous eagerness in her heart;
to climb and to see beyond。 A Latin verb was virgin soil to her:
she sniffed a new odour in it; it meant something; though she
did not know what it meant。 But she gathered it up: it was
significant。 When she knew that:
x2…y2 = (x + y)(x…y)
then she felt that she had grasped something; that she was
liberated into an intoxicating air; rare and unconditioned。 And
she was very glad as she wrote her French exercise:
〃JAI DONNE LE PAIN A MON PETIT FRERE。〃
In all these things there was the sound of a bugle to her
heart; exhilarating; summoning her to perfect places。 She never
forgot her brown 〃Longmans First French Grammar〃; nor her 〃Via