age in the long run, so that he was like a
persistent, strong creature tethered. It was really intolerable.
The jarring was torture to her. She looked over the silent,
attentive class that seemed to have crystallized into order and
rigid, neutral form. This he had it in his power to do, to
crystallize the children into hard, mute fragments, fixed under
his will: his brute will, which fixed them by sheer force.

She too must learn to subdue them to her will: she must. For
it was her duty, since the school was such. He had crystallized
the class into order. But to see him, a strong, powerful man,
using all his power for such a purpose, seemed almost horrible.
There was something hideous about it. The strange, genial light
in his eye was really vicious, and ugly, his smile was one of
torture. He could not be impersonal. He could not have a clear,
pure purpose, he could only exercise his own brute will. He did
not believe in the least in the education he kept inflicting
year after year upon the children. So he must bully, only bully,
even while it tortured his strong, wholesome nature with shame
like a spur always galling. He was so blind and ugly and out of
place. Ursula could not bear it as he stood there. The whole
situation was wrong and ugly.

The lesson was finished, Mr. Harby went away. At the far end
of the room she heard the whistle and the thud of the cane. Her
heart stood still within her. She could not bear it, no, she
could not bear it when the boy was beaten. It made her sick. She
felt that she must go out of this school, this torture-place.
And she hated the schoolmaster, thoroughly and finally. The
brute, had he no shame? He should never be allowed to continue
the atrocity of this bullying cruelty. Then Hill came crawling
back, blubbering piteously. There was something desolate about
this blubbering that nearly broke her heart. For after all, if
she had kept her class in proper discipline, this would never
have happened, Hill would never have called out and been
caned.

She began the arithmetic lesson. But she was distracted. The
boy Hill sat away on the back desk, huddled up, blubbering and
sucking his hand. It was a long time. She dared not go near, nor
speak to him. She felt ashamed before him. And she felt she
could not forgive the boy for being the huddled, blubbering
object, all wet and snivelled, which he was.

She went on correcting the sums. But there were too many
children. She could not ge