Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their
father's house in Beldover, working and talking. Ursula was stitching a
piece of brightly-coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a
board which she held on her knee. They were mostly silent, talking as
their thoughts strayed through their minds.
'Ursula,' said Gudrun, 'don't you REALLY WANT to get married?' Ursula
laid her embroidery in her lap and looked up. Her face was calm and
considerate.
'I don't know,' she replied. 'It depends how you mean.' Gudrun was slightly taken aback. She watched her sister for some
moments.
'Well,' she said, ironically, 'it usually means one thing! But don't
you think anyhow, you'd be--' she darkened slightly--'in a better
position than you are in now.' A shadow came over Ursula's face.
'I might,' she said. 'But I'm not sure.' Again Gudrun paused, slightly irritated. She wanted to be quite
definite.
'You don't think one needs the EXPERIENCE of having been married?' she
asked.
'Do you think it need BE an experience?' replied Ursula.
'Bound to be, in some way or other,' said Gudrun, coolly. 'Possibly
undesirable, but bound to be an experience of some sort.' 'Not really,' said Ursula. 'More likely to be the end of experience.' Gudrun sat very still, to attend to this.
'Of course,' she said, 'there's THAT to consider.' This brought the
conversation to a close. Gudrun, almost angrily, took up her rubber and
began to rub out part of her drawing. Ursula stitched absorbedly.
'You wouldn't consider a good offer?' asked Gudrun.
'I think I've rejected several,' said Ursula.
'REALLY!' Gudrun flushed dark--'But anything really worth while? Have
you REALLY?' 'A thousand a year, and an awfully nice man. I liked him awfully,' said
Ursula.
'Really! But weren't you fearfully tempted?' 'In the abstract but not in the concrete,' said Ursula. 'When it comes
to the point, one isn't even tempted--oh, if I were tempted, I'd marry
like a shot. I'm only tempted NOT to.' The faces of both sisters
suddenly lit up with amusement.
'Isn't it an amazing thing,' cried Gudrun, 'how strong the temptation
is, not to!' They both laughed, looking at each other. In their hearts
they were frightened.
There was a long pause, whilst Ursula stitched and Gudrun went on with
her sketch. The sisters were women, Ursula twenty-six, and Gudrun
twenty-five. But both had the remote, virgin look of modern girls,
sisters of Artemis rather than of Hebe. Gudrun was very beautiful,
passive, soft-skinned, soft-limbed. She wore a dress of dark-blue silky
stuff, with ruches of blue and green linen lace in the neck and
sleeves; and she had emerald-green stockings. Her look of confidence
and diffidence contrasted with Ursula's sensitive expectancy. The
provincial people, intimidated by Gudrun's perfect sang-froid and
exclusive bareness of manner, said of her: 'She is a smart woman.' She
had just come back from London, where she had spent several years,
working at an art-school, as a student, and living a studio life.