the sunshine; without all this toil and hurt and degradation of
a spoiled day。 He would have been her angel。 He held the keys of
the sunshine。 Still he held them。 He could open to her the gates
of succeeding freedom and delight。 Nay; if he had remained true
to her; he would have been the doorway to her; into the
boundless sky of happiness and plunging; inexhaustible freedom
which was the paradise of her soul。 Ah; the great range he would
have opened to her; the illimitable endless space for
self…realization and delight for ever。
The one thing she believed in was in the love she had held
for him。 It remained shining and plete; a thing to hark back
to。 And she said to herself; when present things seemed a
failure:
〃Ah; I was fond of him;〃 as if with him the leading
flower of her life had died。
Now she heard from him again。 The chief effect was pain。 The
pleasure; the spontaneous joy was not there any longer。 But her
will rejoiced。 Her will had fixed itself to him。 And the
old excitement of her dreams stirred and woke up。 He was e;
the man with the wondrous lips that could send the kiss wavering
to the very end of all space。 Was he e back to her? She did
not believe。
My dear Ursula; I am back in England again for a few
months before going out again; this time to India。 I wonder if
you still keep the memory of our times together。 I have still
got the little photograph of you。 You must be changed since
then; for it is about six years ago。 I am fully six years
older;……I have lived through another life since I knew you
at Cossethay。 I wonder if you would care to see me。 I shall e
up to Derby next week; and I would call in Nottingham; and we
might have tea together。 Will you let me know? I shall look for
your answer。
Anton Skrebensky
Ursula had taken this letter from the rack in the hall at