tened stiffly. It was a thin, sinewy, capable hand nevertheless, and Ursula liked it. He took up the necklace, carefully, and blew the coal-dust from it, as it lay in the hollow of his hand. He seemed still and attentive. He held out his hand with the necklace shining small in its hard, black hollow.
"Take it back," he said.
Ursula hardened with a kind of radiance.
"No," she said. "It belongs to little Ursula."
And she went to the infant and fastened the necklace round its warm, soft, weak little neck.
There was a moment of confusion, then the father bent over his child:
"What do you say?" he said. "Do you say thank you? Do you say thank you, Ursula?"
"Her name's Ursula now," said the mother, smiling a little bit ingratiatingly from the door. And she came out to examine the jewel on the child's neck.
"It is Ursula, isn't it?" said Ursula Brangwen.
The father looked up at her, with an intimate, half-gallant, half-impudent, but wistful look. His captive soul loved her: but his soul was captive, he knew, always.
She wanted to go. He set a little ladder for her to climb up to the wharf. She kissed the child, which was in its mother's arms, then she turned away. The mother was effusive. The man stood silent by the ladder.
Ursula joined Skrebensky. The two young figures crossed the lock, above the shining yellow water. The barge-man watched them go.
"I loved them," she was saying. "He was so gentle—oh, so gentle! And the baby was such a dear!"
"Was he gentle?" said Skrebensky. "The woman had been a servant, I'm sure of that."
Ursula winced.
"But I loved his impudence—it was so gentle underneath."
She went hastening on, gladdened by having met the grimy, lean man with the ragged moustache. He gave her a pleasant warm feeling. He made her feel the richness of her own life. Skrebensky, somehow, had created a deadness round her, a sterility, as if the world were ashes.
They said very little as they hastened home to the big supper. He was envying the lean father of three children, for his impudent directness and his worship of the woman in
