[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第27部分

“That　seems　to　me　extremely　well　written；　William；　although；　
of　course；　I　don’t　know　enough　to　criticize　in　
detail。”　

“But　it’s　the　skill　that　strikes　you—not　the　emotion？”　

“In　a　fragment　like　that；　of　course；　the　skill　strikes　one　
most。”　

“But　perhaps—have　you　time　to　listen　to　one　more　
short　piece？　the　scene　between　the　lovers？　There’s　some　
real　feeling　in　that；　I　think。　Denham　agrees　that　it’s　the　
best　thing　I’ve　done。”　

“You’ve　read　it　to　Ralph　Denham？”　Katharine　inquired；　
with　surprise。　“He’s　a　better　judge　than　I　am。　What　did　
he　say？”　

“My　dear　Katharine；”　Rodney　exclaimed；　“I　don’t　ask　

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you　for　criticism；　as　I　should　ask　a　scholar。　I　dare　say　
there　are　only　five　men　in　England　whose　opinion　of　my　
work　matters　a　straw　to　me。　But　I　trust　you　where　feeling　
is　concerned。　I　had　you　in　my　mind　often　when　I　was　
writing　those　scenes。　I　kept　asking　myself；　‘Now　is　this　
the　sort　of　thing　Katharine　would　like？’　I　always　think　of　
you　when　I’m　writing；　Katharine；　even　when　it’s　the　sort　
of　thing　you　wouldn’t　know　about。　And　I’d　rather—yes；　I　
really　believe　I’d　rather—you　thought　well　of　my　writing　
than　any　one　in　the　world。”　

This　was　so　genuine　a　tribute　to　his　trust　in　her　that　
Katharine　was　touched。　

“You　think　too　much　of　me　altogether；　William；”　she　
said；　forgetting　that　she　had　not　meant　to　speak　in　this　
way。　

“No；　Katharine；　I　don’t；”　he　replied；　replacing　his　manuscript　
in　the　drawer。　“It　does　me　good　to　think　of　you。”　

So　quiet　an　answer；　followed　as　it　was　by　no　expression　
of　love；　but　merely　by　the　statement　that　if　she　must　go　
he　would　take　her　to　the　Strand；　and　would；　if　she　could　
wait　a　moment；　change　his　dressinggown　for　a　coat；　

moved　her　to　the　warmest　feeling　of　affection　for　him　
that　she　had　yet　experienced。　While　he　changed　in　the　
next　room；　she　stood　by　the　bookcase；　taking　down　books　
and　opening　them；　but　reading　nothing　on　their　pages。　

She　felt　certain　that　she　would　marry　Rodney。　How　could　
one　avoid　it？　How　could　one　find　fault　with　it？　Here　she　
sighed；　and；　putting　the　thought　of　marriage　away；　fell　
into　a　dream　state；　in　which　she　became　another　person；　
and　the　whole　world　seemed　changed。　Being　a　frequent　
visitor　to　that　world；　she　could　find　her　way　there　
unhesitatingly。　If　she　had　tried　to　analyze　her　impressions；　
she　would　have　said　that　there　dwelt　the　realities　
of　the　appearances　which　figure　in　our　world；　so　direct；　
powerful；　and　unimpeded　were　her　sensations　there；　pared　
with　those　called　forth　in　actual　life。　There　dwelt　
the　things　one　might　have　felt；　had　there　been　cause；　
the　perfect　happiness　of　which　here　we　taste　the　fragment；　
the　beauty　seen　here　in　flying　glimpses　only。　No　
doubt　much　of　the　furniture　of　this　world　was　drawn　directly　
from　the　past；　and　even　from　the　England　of　the　
Elizabethan　age。　However　the　embellishment　of　this　imagi


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nary　world　might　change；　two　qualities　were　constant　in　
it。　It　was　a　place　where　feelings　were　liberated　from　the　
constraint　which　the　real　world　puts　upon　them；　and　the　
process　of　awakenment　was　always　marked　by　resignation　
and　a　kind　of　stoical　acceptance　of　facts。　She　met　no　
acquaintance　there；　as　Denham　did；　miraculously　transfigured；　
she　played　no　heroic　part。　But　there　certainly　
she　loved　some　magnanimous　hero；　and　as　they　swept　
together　among　the　leafhung　trees　of　an　unknown　world；　
they　shared　the　feelings　which　came　fresh　and　fast　as　the　
waves　on　the　shore。　But　the　sands　of　her　liberation　were　
running　fast；　even　through　the　forest　branches　came　
sounds　of　Rodney　moving　things　on　his　dressingtable；　
and　Katharine　woke　herself　from　this　excursion　by　shutting　
the　cover　of　the　book　she　was　holding；　and　replacing　
it　in　the　bookshelf。　

“William；”　she　said；　speaking　rather　faintly　at　first；　like　
one　sending　a　voice　from　sleep　to　reach　the　living。　“William；”　
she　repeated　firmly；　“if　you　still　want　me　to　marry　
you；　I　will。”　

Perhaps　it　was　that　no　man　could　expect　to　have　the　

most　momentous　question　of　his　life　settled　in　a　voice　so　
level；　so　toneless；　so　devoid　of　joy　or　energy。　At　any　rate　
William　made　no　answer。　She　waited　stoically。　A　moment　
later　he　stepped　briskly　from　his　dressingroom；　and　observed　
that　if　she　wanted　to　buy　more　oysters　he　thought　
he　knew　where　they　could　find　a　fishmonger’s　shop　still　
open。　She　breathed　deeply　a　sigh　of　relief。　

Extract　from　a　letter　sent　a　few　days　later　by　Mrs。　Hilbery　
to　her　sisterinlaw；　Mrs。　Milvain：　

“　…　How　stupid　of　me　to　forget　the　name　in　my　telegram。　
Such　a　nice；　rich；　English　name；　too；　and；　in　addition；　
he　has　all　the　graces　of　intellect；　he　has　read　literally　
everything。　I　tell　Katharine；　I　shall　always　put　him　on　
my　right　side　at　dinner；　so　as　to　have　him　by　me　when　
people　begin　talking　about　characters　in　Shakespeare。　
They　won’t　be　rich；　but　they’ll　be　very；　very　happy。　I　was　
sitting　in　my　room　late　one　night；　feeling　that　nothing　
nice　would　ever　happen　to　me　again；　when　I　heard　
Katharine　outside　in　the　passage；　and　I　thought　to　my


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self；　‘Shall　I　call　her　in？’　and　then　I　thought　（in　that　
hopeless；　dreary　way　one　does　think；　with　the　fire　going　
out　and　one’s　birthday　just　over）；　‘Why　should　I　lay　my　
troubles　on　her？’　But　my　little　selfcontrol　had　its　reward；　
for　next　moment　she　tapped　at　the　door　and　came　in；　and　
sat　on　the　rug；　and　though　we　neither　of　us　said　anything；　
I　felt　so　happy　all　of　a　second　that　I　couldn’t　help　
crying；　‘Oh；　Katharine；　when　you　e　to　my　age；　how　I　
hope　you’ll　have　a　daughter；　too！’　You　know　how　silent　
Katharine　is。　She　was　so　silent；　for　such　a　long　time；　that　
in　my　foolish；　nervous　state　I　dreaded　something；　I　don’t　
quite　know　what。　And　then　she　told　me　how；　after　all；　
she　had　made　up　her　mind。　She　had　written。　She　expected　
him　tomorrow。　At　first　I　wasn’t　glad　at　all。　I　didn’t　
want　her　to　marry　any　one；　but　when　she　said；　‘It　will　
make　no　difference。　I　shall　always　care　for　you　and　father　
most；’　then　I　saw　how　selfish　I　was；　and　I　told　her　she　
must　give　him　everything；　everything；　everything！　I　told　
her　I　should　be　thankful　to　e　second。　But　why；　when　
everything’s　turned　out　just　as　one　always　hoped　it　would　
turn　out；　why　then　can　one　do　nothing　but　cry；　nothing　

but　feel　a　desolate　old　woman　whose　life’s　been　a　failure；　
and　now　is　nearly　over；　and　age　is　so　cruel？　But　Katharine　
said　to　me；　‘I　am　happy。　I’m　very　happy。’　And　then　I　
thought；　though　it　all　seemed　so　desperately　dismal　at　
the　time；　Katharine　had　said　she　was　happy；　and　I　should　
have　a　son；　and　it　would　all　turn　out　so　much　more　wonderfully　
than　I　could　possibly　imagine；　for　though　the　
sermons　don’t　say　so；　I　do　believe　the　world　is　meant　for　
us　to　be　happy　in。　She　told　me　that　they　would　live　quite　
near　us；　and　see　us　every　day；　and　she　would　go　on　with　
the　Life；　and　we　should　finish　it　as　we　had　meant　to。　
And；　after　all；　it　would　be　far　more　horrid　if　she　didn’t　
marry—or　suppose　she　married　some　one　we　couldn’t　
endure？　Suppose　she　had　fallen　in　love　with　some　one　
who　was　married　already？　

“And　though　one　never　thinks　any　one　good　enough　for　
the　people　one’s　fond　of；　he　has　the　kindest；　truest　instincts；　
I’m　sure；　and　though　he　seems　nervous　and　his　
manner　is　not　manding；　I　only　think　these　things　
because　it’s　Katharine。　And　now　I’ve　written　this；　it　es　
over　me　that；　of　course；　all　the　time；　Katharine　has　what　

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he　hasn’t。　She　does　mand；　she　isn’t　nervous；　it　es　
naturally　to　her　to　rule　and　control。　It’s　time　that　she　
should　give　all　this　to　some　one　who　will　need　her　when　
we　aren’t　there；　save　in　our　spirits；　for　whatever　people　
say；　I’m　sure　I　shall　e　back　to　this　wonderful　world　
where　one’s　been　so　happy　and　so　miserable；　where；　even　
now；　I　seem　to　see　myself　stretching　out　my　hands　for　
another　present　from　the　great　Fairy　Tree　whose　boughs　
are　still　hung　with　enchanting　toys；　though　they　are　rarer　
now；　perhaps；　and　between　the　branches　one　sees　no　
longer　the　blue　sky；　but　the　stars　and　the　tops　of　the　
mountains。　

“One　doesn’t　know　any　more；　does　one？　One　hasn’t　any　
advice　to　give　one’s　children。　One　can　only　hope　that　
they　will　have　the　same　vision　and　the　same　power　to　
believe；　without　which　life　would　be　so　meaningless。　That　
is　what　I　ask　for　Katharine　and　her　husband。”　

CHAPTER　XII　


Is　Mr。　Hilbery　at　home；　or　Mrs。　Hilbery？”　Denham　asked；　

of　the　parlormaid　in　Chelsea；　a　week　later。　

“No；　sir。　But　Miss　Hilbery　is　at　home；”　the　girl　answered。　

Ralph　had　anticipated　many　answers；　but　not　this　one；　
and　now　it　was　unexpectedly　made　plain　to　him　that　it　
was　the　chance　of　seeing　Katharine　that　had　brought　him　
all　the　way　to　Chelsea　on　pretence　of　seeing　her　father。　

He　made　some　show　of　considering　the　matter；　and　was　
taken　upstairs　to　the　drawingroom。　As　upon　that　first　
occasion；　some　weeks　ago；　the　door　closed　as　if　it　were　a　
thousand　doors　softly　excluding　the　world；　and　once　more　
Ralph　received　an　impression　of　a　room　full　of　deep　shadows；　
firelight；　unwavering　silver　candle　flames；　and　empty　
spaces　to　be　crossed　before　reaching　the　round　table　in　
the　middle　of　the　room；　with　its　frail　burden　of　silver　
trays　and　china　teacups。　But　this　time　Katharine　was　there　
by　herself；　the　volume　in　her　hand　showed　that　she　expected　
no　visitors。　

Ralph　said　something　about　hoping　to　find　her　father。　

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“My　father　is　out；”　she　replied。　“But　if　you　can　wait；　I　
expect　him　soon。”　

It　might　have　been　due　merely　to　politeness；　but　Ralph　
felt　that　she　received　him　almost　with　cordiality。　Perhaps　
she　was　bored　by　drinking　tea　and　reading　a　book　all　
alone；　at　any　rate；　she　tossed　the　book　on　to　a　sofa　with　
a　gesture　of　relief。　

“Is　that　one　of　the　moderns　whom　you　despise？”　he　
asked；　smiling　at　the　carelessness　of　her　gesture。　

“Yes；”　she　replied。　“I　think　even　you　would　despise　him。”　

“Ev