Chapter 4 4

Yet her soul was tormented and made public. Even as she walked up the path to the church, self-assured as she was that she stood above all vulgar judgment and perfectly aware that her appearance was complete and perfect by first standards, she nevertheless felt tortured by her confidence and pride, sensing that she was exposed to injuries, mockery, and spite. She constantly felt exposed, like if she had a hidden weak spot in her defenses. She was unsure of what it was herself. There was a dreadful void, a dearth, and a deficiency of being within her. She lacked a strong sense of self.

And she wished for someone to remedy this shortcoming once and for all. She was obsessed with Rupert Birkin. She felt entire, enough, and whole when he was present. For the remainder of her life, she was constructed on sand above a chasm, and despite all of her vanity and security, any common maidservant with a positive, robust temper might throw her down this bottomless pit of inadequacy with the slightest gesture of mockery or scorn. The contemplative, tormented woman continued to fortify herself with her own defenses of aesthetic knowledge, culture, worldviews, and disinterest. However, she was unable to close the huge gap of deficiency.

She would be protected during this anxious journey of life if only Birkin would establish a strong and lasting connection with her. He had the power to make her appear victorious over the very angels of heaven. If he would only act on it! However, she was tormented by worry and terror. When he should have been persuaded, she worked so hard to get that level of beauty and advantage by making herself beautiful. But there was always a shortcoming.

He was also wicked. He always resisted her and did so now as well. He fought her back more fiercely the harder she tried to get him to come to her. And they had been in a long-term relationship. Oh, it was so exhausting and painful; she was so worn out. But she persisted in her self-confidence. He attempted to leave her, and she knew it. She was aware that he was attempting to finally liberate himself from her. She continued to have faith in her ability to keep him and her own higher wisdom, though. He had a lot of information, and she served as the cornerstone of reality. Her only requirement was for him to be with her.

And this, their union, which was also his greatest fulfillment, combined with the perversity of a willful child, was something he sought to hide. He wished to sever the sacred bond that existed between them with the dogged wilfulness of a stubborn child.

He would attend the wedding because he was the best man. He would be waiting in the church. When she arrived, he'd be aware. As she entered the church, she trembled with tense anxiety and want. He would be there, so he would undoubtedly notice how lovely her clothing was and how she had enhanced her own beauty for him. He would comprehend and be able to realize how she was created for him initially and how she was the highest for him. He would certainly be able to accept his ultimate fate at some point and would not reject her.

She entered the chapel in a small convulsion of too-tired need and scanned her cheeks slowly for him while her thin body twitched with excitement. He would be the best man and would be by the altar. She regarded cautiously while remaining confident.

He then vanished from the scene. She experienced a horrible storm like if she were drowning. She had a crippling hopelessness consume her. She then made a robotic approach to the altar. She had never felt such complete and total helplessness. It was a wilderness that was beyond death and wholly void.

The groom and his best man had not yet arrived. Outside, there was mounting apprehension. Nearly feeling accountable was Ursula. She could not stand that the bride would show up without the groom. It must not fail, the wedding must not be a disaster.

However, there was the bride's carriage, which was decked with cockades and ribbons. The grey horses traveled joyfully, with glee permeating the entire movement, to the church gate. Here was the source of all joy and laughter. To let the day's first blooms out, the carriage's door was flung open. The disgruntled murmuring of a throng could be heard dimly from the folks on the route.

Like a shadow, the father emerged first into the morning air. He had a thin, grey-tinged black beard and was a tall, frail, aged man. He patiently waited at the carriage's door while being completely destroyed.

A lovely shower of greenery and flowers, a pristine whiteness of satin and lace, and the sound of a gay voice asking, "How do I get out?" could all be heard in the doorway's opening.

The waiting crowd felt a wave of satisfaction. They pushed up against her as they greeted her, gazing with delight at the stooping blond head with its flower buds and the tiny, hesitant white foot that was reaching for the carriage step. The bride appeared like a sudden surf surge, floating in all white next to her father in the morning tree shadow, her veil streaming with laughter.

That finished it, she exclaimed.

She placed a hand on her sallow, worn-out father's arm before ripping her light draperies and walking over the red carpet that never faded. Her father, who appeared dumb and pale and was made even more worn-looking by his black beard, ascended the steps stiffly, as if his spirit were gone, but the laughing mist of the bride accompanied him unabatedly.

And no groom has shown up yet! She found it insufferable. With her heart pounding with worry, Ursula was keeping an eye on the slope beyond and the white, lowering road that should provide a view of him. A carriage was present. It was in motion. Just then, it came into view. He was, in fact. Ursula turned to face the bride and the crowd and let out an unintelligible wail from her vantage point. She wished to inform them of his impending arrival. Between her want and her painful uncertainty, she blushed intensely yet her cry was incoherent and inaudible.

The carriage came closer as it banged down the slope. The crowd shouted something. The newlywed, who had just ascended the stairs, turned around joyously to investigate the disturbance. She observed turmoil among the onlookers, the arrival of a cab, the lover's exit from the carriage, and his darting among the horses and into the crowd.

Standing high on the walk in the sunlight, waving her bouquet, she yelled out in a mocking excitement, "Tibs! Tibs!" He was avoiding obstacles while holding his hat in his hand.

She screamed, "Tibs!" once again, turning to face him.

Unaware that he was looking up, he noticed the bride and her father standing on the pathway above him. He had a strange, shocked expression on his face. He took a brief pause. He then collected himself and leaped to catch up to her.

As she began, turned, and fled, scurrying with an unimaginably rapid thumping of her white feet and fraying of her white robes toward the church, she let out a strange, intaken shriek. The young guy pursued her like a hound, leaping the stairs and swinging past her father with his flexible haunches working like those of a hound that bears down on its prey.

The vulgar women below exclaimed, "Ay, after her!" as they abruptly entered the sport.