《[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版》

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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第81部分


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it all is! Our feelings; I mean —yours and mine and 
Katharine’s。 Katharine; tell me; are we doing right?” 

“Right—of course we’re doing right;” William answered 
her; “if; after what you’ve heard; you can marry a man of 
such inprehensible confusion; such deplorable—” 

“Don’t; William;” Katharine interposed; “Cassandra has 
heard us; she can judge what we are; she knows better 
than we could tell her。” 

But; still holding William’s hand; questions and desires 
welled up in Cassandra’s heart。 Had she done wrong in 
listening? Why did Aunt Celia blame her? Did Katharine 
think her right? Above all; did William really love her; for 
ever and ever; better than any one? 

“I must be first with him; Katharine!” she exclaimed。 “I 
can’t share him even with you。” 

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“I shall never ask that;” said Katharine。 She moved a 
little away from where they sat and began halfconsciously 
sorting her flowers。 

“But you’ve shared with me;” Cassandra said。 “Why can’t 
I share with you? Why am I so mean? I know why it is;” she 
added。 “We understand each other; William and I。 You’ve 
never understood each other。 You’re too different。” 

“I’ve never admired anybody more;” William interposed。 

“It’s not that”—Cassandra tried to enlighten him—”it’s 
understanding。” 

“Have I never understood you; Katharine? Have I been 
very selfish?” 

“Yes;” Cassandra interposed。 “You’ve asked her for sympathy; 
and she’s not sympathetic; you’ve wanted her to 
be practical; and she’s not practical。 You’ve been selfish; 
you’ve been exacting—and so has Katharine—but it 
wasn’t anybody’s fault。” 

Katharine had listened to this attempt at analysis with 
keen attention。 Cassandra’s words seemed to rub the old 
blurred image of life and freshen it so marvelously that it 
looked new again。 She turned to William。 

“It’s quite true;” she said。 “It was nobody’s fault。” 

“There are many things that he’ll always e to you 
for;” Cassandra continued; still reading from her invisible 
book。 “I accept that; Katharine。 I shall never dispute it。 
I want to be generous as you’ve been generous。 But being 
in love makes it more difficult for me。” 

They were silent。 At length William broke the silence。 
“One thing I beg of you both; he said; and the old 
nervousness of manner returned as he glanced at 
Katharine。 “We will never discuss these matters again。 
It’s not that I’m timid and conventional; as you think; 
Katharine。 It’s that it spoils things to discuss them; it 
unsettles people’s minds; and now we’re all so happy—” 

Cassandra ratified this conclusion so far as she was concerned; 
and William; after receiving the exquisite pleasure 
of her glance; with its absolute affection and trust; 
looked anxiously at Katharine。 

“Yes; I’m happy;” she assured him。 “And I agree。 We will 
never talk about it again。” 

“Oh; Katharine; Katharine!” Cassandra cried; holding out 
her arms while the tears ran down her cheeks。 

361 



Night and Day 

CHAPTER XXX 


The day was so different from other days to three people 
in the house that the mon routine of household life— 
the maid waiting at table; Mrs。 Hilbery writing a letter; 
the clock striking; and the door opening; and all the other 
signs of longestablished civilization appeared suddenly 
to have no meaning save as they lulled Mr。 and Mrs。 Hilbery 
into the belief that nothing unusual had taken place。 It 
chanced that Mrs。 Hilbery was depressed without visible 
cause; unless a certain crudeness verging upon coarseness 
in the temper of her favorite Elizabethans could be 
held responsible for the mood。 At any rate; she had shut 
up “The Duchess of Malfi” with a sigh; and wished to 
know; so she told Rodney at dinner; whether there wasn’t 
some young writer with a touch of the great spirit—somebody 
who made you believe that life was beautiful? She 
got little help from Rodney; and after singing her plaintive 
requiem for the death of poetry by herself; she 
charmed herself into good spirits again by remembering 
the existence of Mozart。 She begged Cassandra to play to 

her; and when they went upstairs Cassandra opened the 
piano directly; and did her best to create an atmosphere 
of unmixed beauty。 At the sound of the first notes 
Katharine and Rodney both felt an enormous sense of 
relief at the license which the music gave them to loosen 
their hold upon the mechanism of behavior。 They lapsed 
into the depths of thought。 Mrs。 Hilbery was soon spirited 
away into a perfectly congenial mood; that was half 
reverie and half slumber; half delicious melancholy and 
half pure bliss。 Mr。 Hilbery alone attended。 He was extremely 
musical; and made Cassandra aware that he listened 
to every note。 She played her best; and won his 
approval。 Leaning slightly forward in his chair; and turning 
his little green stone; he weighed the intention of 
her phrases approvingly; but stopped her suddenly to 
plain of a noise behind him。 The window was 
unhasped。 He signed to Rodney; who crossed the room 
immediately to put the matter right。 He stayed a moment 
longer by the window than was; perhaps; necessary; and 
having done what was needed; drew his chair a little 
closer than before to Katharine’s side。 The music went 

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on。 Under cover of some exquisite run of melody; he leant 
towards her and whispered something。 She glanced at 
her father and mother; and a moment later left the room; 
almost unobserved; with Rodney。 

“What is it?” she asked; as soon as the door was shut。 

Rodney made no answer; but led her downstairs into 
the diningroom on the ground floor。 Even when he had 
shut the door he said nothing; but went straight to the 
window and parted the curtains。 He beckoned to Katharine。 

“There he is again;” he said。 “Look; there—under the 
lamppost。” 

Katharine looked。 She had no idea what Rodney was 
talking about。 A vague feeling of alarm and mystery possessed 
her。 She saw a man standing on the opposite side 
of the road facing the house beneath a lamppost。 As 
they looked the figure turned; walked a few steps; and 
came back again to his old position。 It seemed to her 
that he was looking fixedly at her; and was conscious of 
her gaze on him。 She knew; in a flash; who the man was 
who was watching them。 She drew the curtain abruptly。 

“Denham;” said Rodney。 “He was there last night too。” 

He spoke sternly。 His whole manner had bee full of 
authority。 Katharine felt almost as if he accused her of 
some crime。 She was pale and unfortably agitated; as 
much by the strangeness of Rodney’s behavior as by the 
sight of Ralph Denham。 

“If he chooses to e—” she said defiantly。 

“You can’t let him wait out there。 I shall tell him to e 
in。” Rodney spoke with such decision that when he raised 
his arm Katharine expected him to draw the curtain instantly。 
She caught his hand with a little exclamation。 

“Wait!” she cried。 “I don’t allow you。” 

“You can’t wait;” he replied。 “You’ve gone too far。” His 
hand remained upon the curtain。 “Why don’t you admit; 
Katharine;” he broke out; looking at her with an expression 
of contempt as well as of anger; “that you love him? 
Are you going to treat him as you treated me?” 

She looked at him; wondering; in spite of all her perplexity; 
at the spirit that possessed him。 

“I forbid you to draw the curtain;” she said。 

He reflected; and then took his hand away。 

“I’ve no right to interfere;” he concluded。 “I’ll leave 

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Night and Day 

you。 Or; if you like; we’ll go back to the drawingroom。” 

“No。 I can’t go back;” she said; shaking her head。 She 
bent her head in thought。 

“You love him; Katharine;” Rodney said suddenly。 His 
tone had lost something of its sternness; and might have 
been used to urge a child to confess its fault。 She raised 
her eyes and fixed them upon him。 

“I love him?” she repeated。 He nodded。 She searched 
his face; as if for further confirmation of his words; and; 
as he remained silent and expectant; turned away once 
more and continued her thoughts。 He observed her closely; 
but without stirring; as if he gave her time to make up 
her mind to fulfil her obvious duty。 The strains of Mozart 
reached them from the room above。 

“Now;” she said suddenly; with a sort of desperation; 
rising from her chair and seeming to mand Rodney to 
fulfil his part。 He drew the curtain instantly; and she 
made no attempt to stop him。 Their eyes at once sought 
the same spot beneath the lamppost。 

“He’s not there!” she exclaimed。 

No one was there。 William threw the window up and looked 

out。 The wind rushed into the room; together with the 
sound of distant wheels; footsteps hurrying along the pavement; 
and the cries of sirens hooting down the river。 

“Denham!” William cried。 

“Ralph!” said Katharine; but she spoke scarcely louder 
than she might have spoken to some one in the same 
room。 With their eyes fixed upon the opposite side of the 
road; they did not notice a figure close to the railing 
which divided the garden from the street。 But Denham 
had crossed the road and was standing there。 They were 
startled by his voice close at hand。 

“Rodney!” 

“There you are! e in; Denham。” Rodney went to the 
front door and opened it。 “Here he is;” he said; bringing 
Ralph with him into the diningroom where Katharine 
stood; with her back to the open window。 Their eyes met 
for a second。 Denham looked half dazed by the strong 
light; and; buttoned in his overcoat; with his hair ruffled 
across his forehead by the wind; he seemed like somebody 
rescued from an open boat out at sea。 William 
promptly shut the window and drew the curtains。 He acted 

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with a cheerful decision as if he were master of the situation; 
and knew exactly what he meant to do。 

“You’re the first to hear the news; Denham;” he said。 
“Katharine isn’t going to marry me; after all。” 

“Where shall I put—” Ralph be

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