[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第64部分

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refused　to　articulate；　somehow　contrived　to　say　that　there　
were　moments　when　he　felt　hopeless；　utterly　hopeless；　though　
he　gave　no　reason　for　this　statement　on　his　part。　

“But　you　care　for　her？”　Mrs。　Hilbery　inquired。　

“Good　God！”　he　exclaimed；　with　a　vehemence　which　
admitted　of　no　question。　

“It’s　the　Church　of　England　service　you　both　object　to？”　
Mrs。　Hilbery　inquired　innocently。　

“I　don’t　care　a　damn　what　service　it　is；”　Ralph　replied。　

“You　would　marry　her　in　Westminster　Abbey　if　the　worst　
came　to　the　worst？”　Mrs。　Hilbery　inquired。　

“I　would　marry　her　in　St。　Paul’s　Cathedral；”　Ralph　replied。　
His　doubts　upon　this　point；　which　were　always　
roused　by　Katharine’s　presence；　had　vanished　pletely；　
and　his　strongest　wish　in　the　world　was　to　be　with　her　
immediately；　since　every　second　he　was　away　from　her　he　

425　



Night　and　Day　

imagined　her　slipping　farther　and　farther　from　him　into　
one　of　those　states　of　mind　in　which　he　was　unrepresented。　
He　wished　to　dominate　her；　to　possess　her。　

“Thank　God！”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Hilbery。　She　thanked　Him　
for　a　variety　of　blessings：　for　the　conviction　with　which　
the　young　man　spoke；　and　not　least　for　the　prospect　that　
on　her　daughter’s　weddingday　the　noble　cadences；　the　
stately　periods；　the　ancient　eloquence　of　the　marriage　
service　would　resound　over　the　heads　of　a　distinguished　
congregation　gathered　together　near　the　very　spot　where　
her　father　lay　quiescent　with　the　other　poets　of　England。　
The　tears　filled　her　eyes；　but　she　remembered　simultaneously　
that　her　carriage　was　waiting；　and　with　dim　eyes　
she　walked　to　the　door。　Denham　followed　her　downstairs。　

It　was　a　strange　drive。　For　Denham　it　was　without　exception　
the　most　unpleasant　he　had　ever　taken。　His　only　
wish　was　to　go　as　straightly　and　quickly　as　possible　to　
Cheyne　Walk；　but　it　soon　appeared　that　Mrs。　Hilbery　either　
ignored　or　thought　fit　to　baffle　this　desire　by　interposing　
various　errands　of　her　own。　She　stopped　the　carriage　
at　postoffices；　and　coffeeshops；　and　shops　of　in


scrutable　dignity　where　the　aged　attendants　had　to　be　
greeted　as　old　friends；　and；　catching　sight　of　the　dome　of　
St。　Paul’s　above　the　irregular　spires　of　Ludgate　Hill；　she　
pulled　the　cord　impulsively；　and　gave　directions　that　
Anderson　should　drive　them　there。　But　Anderson　had　reasons　
of　his　own　for　discouraging　afternoon　worship；　and　
kept　his　horse’s　nose　obstinately　towards　the　west。　After　
some　minutes；　Mrs。　Hilbery　realized　the　situation；　and　
accepted　it　goodhumoredly；　apologizing　to　Ralph　for　his　
disappointment。　

“Never　mind；”　she　said；　“we’ll　go　to　St。　Paul’s　another　
day；　and　it　may　turn　out；　though　I　can’t　promise　that　it　
will；　that　he’ll　take　us　past　Westminster　Abbey；　which　
would　be　even　better。”　

Ralph　was　scarcely　aware　of　what　she　went　on　to　say。　Her　
mind　and　body　both　seemed　to　have　floated　into　another　
region　of　quicksailing　clouds　rapidly　passing　across　each　
other　and　enveloping　everything　in　a　vaporous　indistinctness。　
Meanwhile　he　remained　conscious　of　his　own　concentrated　
desire；　his　impotence　to　bring　about　anything　
he　wished；　and　his　increasing　agony　of　impatience。　

426　



Virginia　Woolf　

Suddenly　Mrs。　Hilbery　pulled　the　cord　with　such　decision　
that　even　Anderson　had　to　listen　to　the　order　which　she　
leant　out　of　the　window　to　give　him。　The　carriage　pulled　
up　abruptly　in　the　middle　of　Whitehall　before　a　large　building　
dedicated　to　one　of　our　Government　offices。　In　a　second　
Mrs。　Hilbery　was　mounting　the　steps；　and　Ralph　was　left　in　
too　acute　an　irritation　by　this　further　delay　even　to　speculate　
what　errand　took　her　now　to　the　Board　of　Education。　
He　was　about　to　jump　from　the　carriage　and　take　a　cab；　
when　Mrs。　Hilbery　reappeared　talking　genially　to　a　figure　
who　remained　hidden　behind　her。　

“There’s　plenty　of　room　for　us　all；”　she　was　saying。　“Plenty　
of　room。　We　could　find　space　for　four　of　you；　William；”　she　
added；　opening　the　door；　and　Ralph　found　that　Rodney　
had　now　joined　their　pany。　The　two　men　glanced　at　
each　other。　If　distress；　shame；　disfort　in　its　most　acute　
form　were　ever　visible　upon　a　human　face；　Ralph　could　
read　them　all　expressed　beyond　the　eloquence　of　words　
upon　the　face　of　his　unfortunate　panion。　But　Mrs。　
Hilbery　was　either　pletely　unseeing　or　determined　to　
appear　so。　She　went　on　talking；　she　talked；　it　seemed　to　

both　the　young　men；　to　some　one　outside；　up　in　the　air。　
She　talked　about　Shakespeare；　she　apostrophized　the　human　
race；　she　proclaimed　the　virtues　of　divine　poetry；　she　
began　to　recite　verses　which　broke　down　in　the　middle。　
The　great　advantage　of　her　discourse　was　that　it　was　self
supporting。　It　nourished　itself　until　Cheyne　Walk　was　
reached　upon　half　a　dozen　grunts　and　murmurs。　

“Now；”　she　said；　alighting　briskly　at　her　door；　“here　we　
are！”　

There　was　something　airy　and　ironical　in　her　voice　and　
expression　as　she　turned　upon　the　doorstep　and　looked　
at　them；　which　filled　both　Rodney　and　Denham　with　the　
same　misgivings　at　having　trusted　their　fortunes　to　such　
an　ambassador；　and　Rodney　actually　hesitated　upon　the　
threshold　and　murmured　to　Denham：　

“You　go　in；　Denham。　I　…”　He　was　turning　tail；　but　the　
door　opening　and　the　familiar　look　of　the　house　asserting　
its　charm；　he　bolted　in　on　the　wake　of　the　others；　
and　the　door　shut　upon　his　escape。　Mrs。　Hilbery　led　the　
way　upstairs。　She　took　them　to　the　drawingroom。　The　
fire　burnt　as　usual；　the　little　tables　were　laid　with　china　

427　



Night　and　Day　

and　silver。　There　was　nobody　there。　

“Ah；”　she　said；　“Katharine’s　not　here。　She　must　be　upstairs　
in　her　room。　You　have　something　to　say　to　her；　I　
know；　Mr。　Denham。　You　can　find　your　way？”　she　vaguely　
indicated　the　ceiling　with　a　gesture　of　her　hand。　She　had　
bee　suddenly　serious　and　posed；　mistress　in　her　
own　house。　The　gesture　with　which　she　dismissed　him　
had　a　dignity　that　Ralph　never　forgot。　She　seemed　to　
make　him　free　with　a　wave　of　her　hand　to　all　that　she　
possessed。　He　left　the　room。　

The　Hilberys’　house　was　tall；　possessing　many　stories　
and　passages　with　closed　doors；　all；　once　he　had　passed　
the　drawingroom　floor；　unknown　to　Ralph。　He　mounted　as　
high　as　he　could　and　knocked　at　the　first　door　he　came　to。　

“May　I　e　in？”　he　asked。　

A　voice　from　within　answered　“Yes。”　

He　was　conscious　of　a　large　window；　full　of　light；　of　a　
bare　table；　and　of　a　long　lookingglass。　Katharine　had　
risen；　and　was　standing　with　some　white　papers　in　her　
hand；　which　slowly　fluttered　to　the　ground　as　she　saw　
her　visitor。　The　explanation　was　a　short　one。　The　sounds　

were　inarticulate；　no　one　could　have　understood　the　meaning　
save　themselves。　As　if　the　forces　of　the　world　were　all　
at　work　to　tear　them　asunder　they　sat；　clasping　hands；　
near　enough　to　be　taken　even　by　the　malicious　eye　of　
Time　himself　for　a　united　couple；　an　indivisible　unit。　

“Don’t　move；　don’t　go；”　she　begged　of　him；　when　he　
stooped　to　gather　the　papers　she　had　let　fall。　But　he　took　
them　in　his　hands　and；　giving　her　by　a　sudden　impulse　
his　own　unfinished　dissertation；　with　its　mystical　conclusion；　
they　read　each　other’s　positions　in　silence。　

Katharine　read　his　sheets　to　an　end；　Ralph　followed　her　
figures　as　far　as　his　mathematics　would　let　him。　They　
came　to　the　end　of　their　tasks　at　about　the　same　moment；　
and　sat　for　a　time　in　silence。　

“Those　were　the　papers　you　left　on　the　seat　at　Kew；”　
said　Ralph　at　length。　“You　folded　them　so　quickly　that　I　
couldn’t　see　what　they　were。”　

She　blushed　very　deeply；　but　as　she　did　not　move　or　
attempt　to　hide　her　face　she　had　the　appearance　of　some　
one　disarmed　of　all　defences；　or　Ralph　likened　her　to　a　
wild　bird　just　settling　with　wings　trembling　to　fold　them


428　



Virginia　Woolf　

selves　within　reach　of　his　hand。　The　moment　of　exposure　
had　been　exquisitely　painful—the　light　shed　startlingly　
vivid。　She　had　now　to　get　used　to　the　fact　that　some　one　
shared　her　loneliness。　The　bewilderment　was　half　shame　
and　half　the　prelude　to　profound　rejoicing。　Nor　was　she　
unconscious　that　on　the　surface　the　whole　thing　must　
appear　of　the　utmost　absurdity。　She　looked　to　see　whether　
Ralph　smiled；　but　found　his　gaze　fixed　on　her　with　such　
gravity　that　she　turned　to　the　belief　that　she　had　mitted　
no　sacrilege　but　enriched　herself；　perhaps　immeasurably；　
perhaps　eternally。　She　hardly　dared　steep　herself　
in　the　infinite　bliss。　But　his　glance　seemed　to　ask　for　
some　assurance　upon　another　point　of　vital　interest　to　
him。　It　beseeched　her　mutely　to　tell　him　whether　what　
she　had　read　upon　his　confused　sheet　had　any　meaning　
or　truth　to　her。　She　bent　her　head　once　more　to　the　papers　
she　held。　

“I　like　your　little　dot　with　the　flames　round　it；”　she　
said　meditatively。　

Ralph　nearly　tore　the　page　from　her　hand　in　shame　and　
despair　when　he　saw　her　actually　contemplating　the　idi


otic　symbol　of　his　most　confused　and　emotional　moments。　

He　was　convinced　that　it　could　mean　nothing　to　another；　
although　somehow　to　him　it　conveyed　not　only　
Katharine　herself　but　all　those　states　of　mind　which　had　
clustered　round　her　since　he　first　saw　her　pouring　out　tea　
on　a　Sunday　afternoon。　It　represented　by　its　circumference　
of　smudges　surrounding　a　central　blot　all　that　encircling　
glow　which　for　him　surrounded；　inexplicably；　so　many　
of　the　objects　of　life；　softening　their　sharp　outline；　so　
that　he　could　see　certain　streets；　books；　and　situations　
wearing　a　halo　almost　perceptible　to　the　physical　eye。　
Did　she　smile？　Did　she　put　the　paper　down　wearily；　condemning　
it　not　only　for　its　inadequacy　but　for　its　falsity？　
Was　she　going　to　protest　once　more　that　he　only　loved　
the　vision　of　her？　But　it　did　not　occur　to　her　that　this　
diagram　had　anything　to　do　with　her。　She　said　simply；　
and　in　the　same　tone　of　reflection：　

“Yes；　the　world　looks　something　like　that　to　me　too。”　
He　received　her　assurance　with　profound　joy。　Quietly　
and　steadily　there　rose　up　behind　the　whole　aspect　of　
life　that　soft　edge　of　fire　which　gave　its　red　tint　to　the　

429　



Night　and　Day　

atmosphere　and　crowded　the　scene　with　shadows　so　deep　
and　dark　that　one　could　fancy　pushing　farther　into　their　
density　and　still　farther；　exploring　indefinitely。　Whether　
there　was　any　correspondence　between　the　two　prospects　
now　opening　before　them　they　shared　the　same　sense　of　
the　impending　future；　vast；　mysterious；　infinitely　stored　
with　undeveloped　shapes　which　each　would　unwrap　for　
the　other　to　behold；　but　for　the　present　the　prospect　of　
the　future　was　enough　to　fill　them　with　silent　adoration。　
At　any　rate；　their　further　attempts　to　municate　articulately　
were　interrupted　by　a　knock　on　the　door；　and　
the　entrance　of　a　maid　who；　with　a　due　sense　of　mystery；　
announced　that　a　lady　wished　to　see　Miss　Hilbery；　but　
refused　to　allow　her　name　to　be　given。　

When　Katharine　rose；　with　a　profound　sigh；　to　resume　
her　duties；　Ralph　went　with　her；　and　neither　of　them　formulated　
any　guess；　on　their　way　downstairs；　as　to　who　
this　anonymous　lady　might　prove　to　be。　Perhaps　the　fantastic　
notion　that　she　was　a　little　black　hunchback　provided　
with　a　steel　knife；　which　she　would　plunge　into　
Katharine’s　heart；　appeared　to　Ralph　more　probable　than　

another；　and　he　pushed　first　into　the　diningroom　to　avert　
the　blow。　Then　he　exclaimed　“Cassandra！”　with　such　heartiness　
at　the　sight　of　Cassandra　Otway　standing　by　the　
diningroom　table　that　she　put　her　finger　to　her　lips　and　
begged　him　to　be　quiet。　

“Nobody　must　know　I’m　here；”　she　explained　in　a　sepulchral　
whisper。　“I　missed　my　train。　I　have　been　wandering　
about　London　all　day。　I　can　bear　it　no　longer。　
Katharine；　what　am　I　to　do？”　

Katharine　pushed　forward　a　chair；　Ralph　hastily　found　
wine　and　poured　it　out　for　her。　If　not　actually　fainting；　
she　was　very　near　it。　

“William’s　upstairs；”　said　Ralph；　as　soon　as　she　appeared　
to　be　recovered。　“I’ll　go　and　ask　him　to　e　down　to　
you。”　His　own　happiness　had　given　him　a　confidence　that　
every　one　else　was　bound　to　be　happy　too。　But　Cassandra　
had　her　uncle’s　mands　and　anger　too　vividly　in　her　
mind　to　dare　any　such　defiance。　She　became　agitated　
and　said　that　she　must　leave　the　house　at　once。　She　was　
not　in　a　condition　to　go；　had　they　known　where　to　send　
her。　Katharine’s　mon　sense；　which　had　been　in　abey


430　



Virginia　Woolf　

ance　for　the　past　week　or　two；　still　failed　her；　and　she　
could　only　ask；　“But　where’s　your　luggage？”　in　the　vague　
belief　that　to　take　lodgings　depended　entirely　upon　a　
sufficiency　of　luggage。　Cassandra’s　reply；　“I’ve　lost　my　
luggage；”　in　no　way　helped　her　to　a　conclusion。　

“You’ve　lost　your　luggage；”　she　repeated。　Her　eyes　rested　
upon　Ralph；　with　an　expression　which　seemed　better　fitted　
to　acpany　a　profound　thanksgiving　for　his　existence　
or　some　vow　of　eternal　devotion　than　a　question　
about　luggage。　Cassandra　perceived　the　look；　and　saw　
that　it　was　returned；　her　eyes　filled　with　tears。　She　faltered　
in　what　she　was　saying。　She　began　bravely　again　to　
discuss　the　question　of　lodging　when　Katharine；　who　
seemed　to　have　municated　silently　with　Ralph；　and　
obtained　his　permission；　took　her　ruby　ring　from　her　finger　
and　giving　it　to　Cassandra；　said：　“I　believe　it　will　fit　
you　without　any　alteration。”　

These　words　would　not　have　been　enough　to　convince　
Cassandra　of　what　she　very　much　wished　to　believe　had　
not　Ralph　taken　the　bare　hand　in　his　and　demanded：　

“Why　don’t　you　tell　us　you’re　glad？”　Cassandra　was　so　

glad　that　the　tears　ran　down　her　cheeks。　The　certainty　of　
Katharine’s　engagement　not　only　relieved　her　of　a　thousand　
vague　fears　and　selfreproaches；　but　entirely　
quenched　that　spirit　of　criticism　which　had　lately　impaired　
her　belief　in　Katharine。　Her　old　faith　came　back　to　
her。　She　seemed　to　behold　her　with　that　curious　intensity　
which　she　had　lost；　as　a　being　who　walks　just　beyond　our　
sphere；　so　that　life　in　their　presence　is　a　heightened　process；　
illuminating　not　only　ourselves　but　a　considerable　
stretch　of　the　surrounding　world。　Next　moment　she　contrasted　
her　own　lot　with　theirs　and　gave　back　the　ring。　

“I　won’t　take　that　unless　William　gives　it　me　himself；”　
she　said。　“Keep　it　for　me；　Katharine。”　

“I　assure　you　everything’s　perfectly　all　right；”　said　Ralph。　
“Let　me　tell　William—”　

He　was　about；　in　spite　of　Cassandra’s　protest；　to　reach　
the　door；　when　Mrs。　Hilbery；　either　warned　by　the　parlor
maid　or　conscious　with　her　usual　prescience　of　the　need　
for　her　intervention；　opened　the　door　and　smilingly　surveyed　
them。　

“My　dear　Cassandra！”　she　exclaimed。　“How　delightful　to　

431　



Night　and　Day　

see　you　back　again！　What　a　coincidence！”　she　observed；　
in　a　general　way。　“William　is　upstairs。　The　kettle　boils　
over。　Where’s　Katharine；　I　say？　I　go　to　look；　and　I　find　
Cassandra！”　She　seemed　to　have　proved　something　to　her　
own　satisfaction；　although　nobody　felt　certain　what　thing　
precisely　it　was。　

“I　find　Cassandra；”　she　repeated。　

“She　missed　her　train；”　Katharine　in