[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第38部分

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Swift　for　another　time？　I　don’t　feel　in　the　mood　for　Swift；　
and　it’s　a　pity　to　read　any　one　when　that’s　the　case—　
particularly　Swift。”　

The　presence　of　wise　literary　speculation；　as　she　calculated；　
restored　William’s　confidence　in　his　security；　and　

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he　replaced　the　book　in　the　bookcase；　keeping　his　back　
turned　to　her　as　he　did　so；　and　taking　advantage　of　this　
circumstance　to　summon　his　thoughts　together。　

But　a　second　of　introspection　had　the　alarming　result　
of　showing　him　that　his　mind；　when　looked　at　from　within；　
was　no　longer　familiar　ground。　He　felt；　that　is　to　say；　
what　he　had　never　consciously　felt　before；　he　was　revealed　
to　himself　as　other　than　he　was　wont　to　think　
him；　he　was　afloat　upon　a　sea　of　unknown　and　tumultuous　
possibilities。　He　paced　once　up　and　down　the　room；　
and　then　flung　himself　impetuously　into　the　chair　by　
Katharine’s　side。　He　had　never　felt　anything　like　this　before；　
he　put　himself　entirely　into　her　hands；　he　cast　off　
all　responsibility。　He　very　nearly　exclaimed　aloud：　

“You’ve　stirred　up　all　these　odious　and　violent　emotions；　
and　now　you　must　do　the　best　you　can　with　them。”　

Her　near　presence；　however；　had　a　calming　and　reassuring　
effect　upon　his　agitation；　and　he　was　conscious　only　
of　an　implicit　trust　that；　somehow；　he　was　safe　with　her；　
that　she　would　see　him　through；　find　out　what　it　was　
that　he　wanted；　and　procure　it　for　him。　

“I　wish　to　do　whatever　you　tell　me　to　do；”　he　said。　“I　
put　myself　entirely　in　your　hands；　Katharine。”　

“You　must　try　to　tell　me　what　you　feel；”　she　said。　

“My　dear；　I　feel　a　thousand　things　every　second。　I　don’t　
know；　I’m　sure；　what　I　feel。　That　afternoon　on　the　heath—　
it　was　then—then—”　He　broke　off；　he　did　not　tell　her　
what　had　happened　then。　“Your　ghastly　good　sense；　as　
usual；　has　convinced　me—for　the　moment—but　what　the　
truth　is；　Heaven　only　knows！”　he　exclaimed。　

“Isn’t　it　the　truth　that　you　are；　or　might　be；　in　love　
with　Cassandra？”　she　said　gently。　

William　bowed　his　head。　After　a　moment’s　silence　he　
murmured：　

“I　believe　you’re　right；　Katharine。”　

She　sighed；　involuntarily。　She　had　been　hoping　all　this　
time；　with　an　intensity　that　increased　second　by　second　
against　the　current　of　her　words；　that　it　would　not　in　the　
end　e　to　this。　After　a　moment　of　surprising　anguish；　
she　summoned　her　courage　to　tell　him　how　she　wished　
only　that　she　might　help　him；　and　had　framed　the　first　
words　of　her　speech　when　a　knock；　terrific　and　startling　

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to　people　in　their　overwrought　condition；　sounded　upon　

the　door。　
“Katharine；　I　worship　you；”　he　urged；　half　in　a　whisper。　
“Yes；”　she　replied；　withdrawing　with　a　little　shiver；　“but　

you　must　open　the　door。”　

CHAPTER　XXIII　


When　Ralph　Denham　entered　the　room　and　saw　Katharine　
seated　with　her　back　to　him；　he　was　conscious　of　a　change　
in　the　grade　of　the　atmosphere　such　as　a　traveler　meets　
with　sometimes　upon　the　roads；　particularly　after　sunset；　
when；　without　warning；　he　runs　from　clammy　chill　to　a　
hoard　of　unspent　warmth　in　which　the　sweetness　of　hay　
and　beanfield　is　cherished；　as　if　the　sun　still　shone　although　
the　moon　is　up。　He　hesitated；　he　shuddered；　he　
walked　elaborately　to　the　window　and　laid　aside　his　coat。　
He　balanced　his　stick　most　carefully　against　the　folds　of　
the　curtain。　Thus　occupied　with　his　own　sensations　and　
preparations；　he　had　little　time　to　observe　what　either　of　
the　other　two　was　feeling。　Such　symptoms　of　agitation　
as　he　might　perceive　（and　they　had　left　their　tokens　in　
brightness　of　eye　and　pallor　of　cheeks）　seemed　to　him　
well　befitting　the　actors　in　so　great　a　drama　as　that　of　
Katharine　Hilbery’s　daily　life。　Beauty　and　passion　were　
the　breath　of　her　being；　he　thought。　

She　scarcely　noticed　his　presence；　or　only　as　it　forced　

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her　to　adopt　a　manner　of　posure；　which　she　was　certainly　
far　from　feeling。　William；　however；　was　even　more　
agitated　than　she　was；　and　her　first　instalment　of　promised　
help　took　the　form　of　some　monplace　upon　the　
age　of　the　building　or　the　architect’s　name；　which　gave　
him　an　excuse　to　fumble　in　a　drawer　for　certain　designs；　
which　he　laid　upon　the　table　between　the　three　of　them。　

Which　of　the　three　followed　the　designs　most　carefully　
it　would　be　difficult　to　tell；　but　it　is　certain　that　not　one　
of　the　three　found　for　the　moment　anything　to　say。　Years　
of　training　in　a　drawingroom　came　at　length　to　Katharine’s　
help；　and　she　said　something　suitable；　at　the　same　moment　
withdrawing　her　hand　from　the　table　because　she　
perceived　that　it　trembled。　William　agreed　effusively；　
Denham　corroborated　him；　speaking　in　rather　highpitched　
tones；　they　thrust　aside　the　plans；　and　drew　nearer　to　the　
fireplace。　

“I’d　rather　live　here　than　anywhere　in　the　whole　of　London；”　
said　Denham。　

（“And　I’ve　got　nowhere　to　live”）　Katharine　thought；　as　
she　agreed　aloud。　

“You　could　get　rooms　here；　no　doubt；　if　you　wanted　
to；”　Rodney　replied。　

“But　I’m　just　leaving　London　for　good—I’ve　taken　that　
cottage　I　was　telling　you　about。”　The　announcement　
seemed　to　convey　very　little　to　either　of　his　hearers。　

“Indeed？—that’s　sad…　。　You　must　give　me　your　address。　
But　you　won’t　cut　yourself　off　altogether；　surely—”　

“You’ll　be　moving；　too；　I　suppose；”　Denham　remarked。　

William　showed　such　visible　signs　of　floundering　that　
Katharine　collected　herself　and　asked：　

“Where　is　the　cottage　you’ve　taken？”　

In　answering　her；　Denham　turned　and　looked　at　her。　As　
their　eyes　met；　she　realized　for　the　first　time　that　she　
was　talking　to　Ralph　Denham；　and　she　remembered；　without　
recalling　any　details；　that　she　had　been　speaking　of　
him　quite　lately；　and　that　she　had　reason　to　think　ill　of　
him。　What　Mary　had　said　she　could　not　remember；　but　
she　felt　that　there　was　a　mass　of　knowledge　in　her　mind　
which　she　had　not　had　time　to　examine—knowledge　now　
lying　on　the　far　side　of　a　gulf。　But　her　agitation　flashed　
the　queerest　lights　upon　her　past。　She　must　get　through　

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the　matter　in　hand；　and　then　think　it　out　in　quiet。　She　
bent　her　mind　to　follow　what　Ralph　was　saying。　He　was　
telling　her　that　he　had　taken　a　cottage　in　Norfolk；　and　
she　was　saying　that　she　knew；　or　did　not　know；　that　particular　
neighborhood。　But　after　a　moment’s　attention　her　
mind　flew　to　Rodney；　and　she　had　an　unusual；　indeed　
unprecedented；　sense　that　they　were　in　touch　and　shared　
each　other’s　thoughts。　If　only　Ralph　were　not　there；　she　
would　at　once　give　way　to　her　desire　to　take　William’s　
hand；　then　to　bend　his　head　upon　her　shoulder；　for　this　
was　what　she　wanted　to　do　more　than　anything　at　the　
moment；　unless；　indeed；　she　wished　more　than　anything　
to　be　alone—yes；　that　was　what　she　wanted。　She　was　
sick　to　death　of　these　discussions；　she　shivered　at　the　
effort　to　reveal　her　feelings。　She　had　forgotten　to　answer。　
William　was　speaking　now。　

“But　what　will　you　find　to　do　in　the　country？”　she　asked　
at　random；　striking　into　a　conversation　which　she　had　
only　half　heard；　in　such　a　way　as　to　make　both　Rodney　
and　Denham　look　at　her　with　a　little　surprise。　But　directly　
she　took　up　the　conversation；　it　was　William’s　turn　

to　fall　silent。　He　at　once　forgot　to　listen　to　what　they　
were　saying；　although　he　interposed　nervously　at　intervals；　
“Yes；　yes；　yes。”　As　the　minutes　passed；　Ralph’s　presence　
became　more　and　more　intolerable　to　him；　since　
there　was　so　much　that　he　must　say　to　Katharine；　the　
moment　he　could　not　talk　to　her；　terrible　doubts；　unanswerable　
questions　accumulated；　which　he　must　lay　before　
Katharine；　for　she　alone　could　help　him　now。　Unless　
he　could　see　her　alone；　it　would　be　impossible　for　him　
ever　to　sleep；　or　to　know　what　he　had　said　in　a　moment　
of　madness；　which　was　not　altogether　mad；　or　was　it　
mad？　He　nodded　his　head；　and　said；　nervously；　“Yes；　yes；”　
and　looked　at　Katharine；　and　thought　how　beautiful　she　
looked；　there　was　no　one　in　the　world　that　he　admired　
more。　There　was　an　emotion　in　her　face　which　lent　it　an　
expression　he　had　never　seen　there。　Then；　as　he　was　turning　
over　means　by　which　he　could　speak　to　her　alone；　she　
rose；　and　he　was　taken　by　surprise；　for　he　had　counted　on　
the　fact　that　she　would　outstay　Denham。　His　only　chance；　
then；　of　saying　something　to　her　in　private；　was　to　take　
her　downstairs　and　walk　with　her　to　the　street。　While　he　

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hesitated；　however；　overe　with　the　difficulty　of　putting　
one　simple　thought　into　words　when　all　his　thoughts　
were　scattered　about；　and　all　were　too　strong　for　utterance；　
he　was　struck　silent　by　something　that　was　still　
more　unexpected。　Denham　got　up　from　his　chair；　looked　
at　Katharine；　and　said：　

“I’m　going；　too。　Shall　we　go　together？”　

And　before　William　could　see　any　way　of　detaining　him—　
or　would　it　be　better　to　detain　Katharine？—he　had　taken　
his　hat；　stick；　and　was　holding　the　door　open　for　Katharine　
to　pass　out。　The　most　that　William　could　do　was　to　stand　
at　the　head　of　the　stairs　and　say　goodnight。　He　could　
not　offer　to　go　with　them。　He　could　not　insist　that　she　
should　stay。　He　watched　her　descend；　rather　slowly；　owing　
to　the　dusk　of　the　staircase；　and　he　had　a　last　sight　of　
Denham’s　head　and　of　Katharine’s　head　near　together；　
against　the　panels；　when　suddenly　a　pang　of　acute　jealousy　
overcame　him；　and　had　he　not　remained　conscious　
of　the　slippers　upon　his　feet；　he　would　have　run　after　
them　or　cried　out。　As　it　was　he　could　not　move　from　the　
spot。　At　the　turn　of　the　staircase　Katharine　turned　to　

look　back；　trusting　to　this　last　glance　to　seal　their　pact　
of　good　friendship。　Instead　of　returning　her　silent　
greeting；　William　grinned　back　at　her　a　cold　stare　of　sarcasm　
or　of　rage。　

She　stopped　dead　for　a　moment；　and　then　descended　
slowly　into　the　court。　She　looked　to　the　right　and　to　the　
left；　and　once　up　into　the　sky。　She　was　only　conscious　of　
Denham　as　a　block　upon　her　thoughts。　She　measured　the　
distance　that　must　be　traversed　before　she　would　be　alone。　
But　when　they　came　to　the　Strand　no　cabs　were　to　be　
seen；　and　Denham　broke　the　silence　by　saying：　

“There　seem　to　be　no　cabs。　Shall　we　walk　on　a　little？”　

“Very　well；”　she　agreed；　paying　no　attention　to　him。　

Aware　of　her　preoccupation；　or　absorbed　in　his　own　
thoughts；　Ralph　said　nothing　further；　and　in　silence　they　
walked　some　distance　along　the　Strand。　Ralph　was　doing　
his　best　to　put　his　thoughts　into　such　order　that　one　
came　before　the　rest；　and　the　determination　that　when　
he　spoke　he　should　speak　worthily；　made　him　put　off　the　
moment　of　speaking　till　he　had　found　the　exact　words　
and　even　the　place　that　best　suited　him。　The　Strand　was　

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too　busy。　There　was　too　much　risk；　also；　of　finding　an　
empty　cab。　Without　a　word　of　explanation　he　turned　to　
the　left；　down　one　of　the　side　streets　leading　to　the　river。　
On　no　account　must　they　part　until　something　of　the　very　
greatest　importance　had　happened。　He　knew　perfectly　
well　what　he　wished　to　say；　and　had　arranged　not　only　
the　substance；　but　the　order　in　which　he　was　to　say　it。　
Now；　however；　that　he　was　alone　with　her；　not　only　did　
he　find　the　difficulty　of　speaking　almost　insurmountable；　
but　he　was　aware　that　he　was　angry　with　her　for　thus　
disturbing　him；　and　casting；　as　it　was　so　easy　for　a　person　
of　her　advantages　to　do；　these　phantoms　and　pitfalls　
across　his　path。　He　was　determined　that　he　would　question　
her　as　severely　as　he　would　question　himself；　and　
make　them　both；　once　and　for　all；　either　justify　her　dominance　
or　renounce　it。　But　the　longer　they　walked　thus　
alone；　the　more　he　was　disturbed　by　the　sense　of　her　
actual　presence。　Her　skirt　blew；　the　feathers　in　her　hat　
waved；　sometimes　he　saw　her　a　step　or　two　ahead　of　him；　
or　had　to　wait　for　her　to　catch　him　up。　

The　silence　was　prolonged；　and　at　length　drew　her　at


tention　to　him。　First　she　was　annoyed　that　there　was　no　
cab　to　free　her　from　his　pany；　then　she　recalled　vaguely　
something　that　Mary　had　said　to　make　her　think　ill　of　
him；　she　could　not　remember　what；　but　the　recollection；　
bined　with　his　masterful　ways—why　did　he　walk　so　
fast　down　this　side　street？—made　her　more　and　more　
conscious　of　a　person　of　marked；　though　disagreeable；　
force　by　her　side。　She　stopped　and；　looking　round　her　for　
a　cab；　sighted　one　in　the　distance。　He　was　thus　precipitated　
into　speech。　

“Should　you　mind　if　we　walked　a　little　farther？”　he　asked。　
“There’s　something　I　want　to　say　to　you。”　

“Very　well；”　she　replied；　guessing　that　his　request　had　
something　to　do　with　Mary　Datchet。　

“It’s　quieter　by　the　river；”　he　said；　and　instantly　he　
crossed　over。　“I　want　to　ask　you　merely　this；”　he　began。　
But　he　paused　so　long　that　she　could　see　his　head　against　
the　sky；　the　slope　of　his　thin　cheek　and　his　large；　strong　
nose　were　clearly　marked　against　it。　While　he　paused；　
words　that　were　quite　different　from　those　he　intended　
to　use　presented　themselves。　

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“I’ve　made　you　my　standard　ever　since　I　saw　you。　I’ve　
dreamt　about　you；　I’ve　thought　of　nothing　but　you；　you　
represent　to　me　the　only　reality　in　the　world。”　

His　words；　and　the　queer　strained　voice　in　which　he　
spoke　them；　made　it　appear　as　if　he　addressed　some　person　
who　was　not　the　woman　beside　him；　but　some　one　
far　away。　

“And　now　things　have　e　to　such　a　pass　that；　unless　
I　can　speak　to　you　openly；　I　believe　I　shall　go　mad。　I　
think　of　you　as　the　most　beautiful；　the　truest　thing　in　
the　world；”　he　continued；　filled　with　a　sense　of　exaltation；　
and　feeling　that　he　had　no　need　now　to　choose　his　
words　with　pedantic　accuracy；　for　what　he　wanted　to　say　
was　suddenly　bee　plain　to　him。　

“I　see　you　everywhere；　in　the　stars；　in　the　river；　to　me　
you’re　everything　that　exists；　the　reality　of　everything。　
Life；　I　tell　you；　would　be　impossible　without　you。　And　
now　I　want—”　

She　had　heard　him　so　far　with　a　feeling　that　she　had　
dropped　some　material　word　which　made　sense　of　the　
rest。　She　could　hear　no　more　of　this　unintelligible　ram


bling　without　checking　him。　She　felt　that　she　was　overhearing　
what　was　meant　for　another。　

“I　don’t　understand；”　she　said。　“You’re　saying　things　
that　you　don’t　mean。”　

“I　mean　every　word　I　say；”　he　replied；　emphatically。　He　
turned　his　head　towards　her。　She　recovered　the　words　she　
was　searching　for　while　he　spoke。　“Ralph　Denham　is　in　
love　with　you。”　They　came　back　to　her　in　Mary　Datchet’s　
voice。　Her　anger　blazed　up　in　her。　

“I　saw　Mary　Datchet　this　afternoon；”　she　exclaimed。　

He　made　a　movement　as　if　he　were　surprised　or　taken　
aback；　but　answered　in　a　moment：　

“She　told　you　that　I　had　asked　her　to　marry　me；　I　suppose？”　


“No！”　Katharine　exclaimed；　in　surprise。　

“I　did　though。　It　was　the　day　I　saw　you　at　Lincoln；”　he　
continued。　“I　had　meant　to　ask　her　to　marry　me；　and　
then　I　looked　out　of　the　window　and　saw　you。　After　that　
I　didn’t　want　to　ask　any　one　t