Ursula Brangwen. She was Woman, she was the whole of Woman in the human order. All-containing, universal, how should she be limited to individuality?
She was exhilarated, she did not want to go away from him. She had her place by him. Who should take her away?
They came out of the café.
"Is there anything you would like to do?" he said. "Is there anything we can do?"
It was a dark, windy night in March.
"There is nothing to do," she said.
Which was the answer he wanted.
"Let us walk then—where shall we walk?" he asked.
"Shall we go to the river?" she suggested, timidly.
In a moment they were on the tram, going down to Trent Bridge. She was so glad. The thought of walking in the dark, far-reaching water-meadows, beside the full river, transported her. Dark water flowing in silence through the big, restless night made her feel wild.
They crossed the bridge, descended, and went away from the lights. In an instant, in the darkness, he took her hand and they went in silence, with subtle feet treading the darkness. The town fumed away on their left, there were strange lights and sounds, the wind rushed against the trees, and under the bridge. They walked close together, powerful in unison. He drew her very close, held her with a subtle, stealthy, powerful passion, as if they had a secret agreement which held good in the profound darkness. The profound darkness was their universe.
"It is like it was before," she said.
Yet it was not in the least as it was before. Nevertheless his heart was perfectly in accord with her. They thought one thought.
"I knew I should come back," he said at length.
She quivered.
"Did you always love me?" she asked.
The directness of the question overcame him, submerged him for a moment. The darkness travelled massively along.
"I had to come back to you," he said, as if hypnotized. "You were always at the back of everything."
She was silent with triumph, like fate.
"I loved you," she said, "always."
The dark flame leaped up in him. He must give her him-
