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"A flip with the duster won't hurt her," he said

"Nor will it do her any good"

For days, for weeks, Ursula's heart burned from this rebuff

She felt so cruelly vulnerable Did he not kno vulnerable

she was, how exposed and wincing? He, of all people, knew And

he wanted to do this to her He wanted to hurt her right through

her closest sensitiveness, he wanted to treat her with shame, to

maim her with insult

Her heart burnt in isolation, like a watchfire lighted She

did not forget, she did not forget, she never forgot When she

returned to her love for her father, the seed of h covered up far froed to him unquestioned Slowly, slowly, the

fire of mistrust and defiance burned in her, burned away her

connection with hi a passion for all s She loved the little brooks Wherever she found a

little running water, she was happy It see with it She could sit for hours by a

brook or stream, on the roots of the alders, and watch the water

hasten dancing over the stones, or as of a fallen

branch Sometimes, little fish vanished before they had becotails ran by the water's

brink, sofisher darting blue--and then she was very happy The

kingfisher was the key to the ic world: he itness of the

border of enchantment