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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第57部分


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less unhappy。 I shall write a book and curse my charwoman 
—if happiness consists in that。 What do you think?” 

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Virginia Woolf 

She could not answer because they were immediately 
surrounded by other members of the party—by Mrs。 
Hilbery; and Mary; Henry Otway; and William。 

Rodney went up to Katharine immediately and said to 
her: 

“Henry is going to drive home with your mother; and I 
suggest that they should put us down halfway and let us 
walk back。” 

Katharine nodded her head。 She glanced at him with an 
oddly furtive expression。 

“Unfortunately we go in opposite directions; or we might 
have given you a lift;” he continued to Denham。 His manner 
was unusually peremptory; he seemed anxious to hasten 
the departure; and Katharine looked at him from time 
to time; as Denham noticed; with an expression half of 
inquiry; half of annoyance。 She at once helped her mother 
into her cloak; and said to Mary: 

“I want to see you。 Are you going back to London at 
once? I will write。” She half smiled at Ralph; but her look 
was a little overcast by something she was thinking; and 
in a very few minutes the Otway carriage rolled out of the 

stable yard and turned down the high road leading to the 
village of Lampsher。 

The return drive was almost as silent as the drive from 
home had been in the morning; indeed; Mrs。 Hilbery leant 
back with closed eyes in her corner; and either slept or 
feigned sleep; as her habit was in the intervals between 
the seasons of active exertion; or continued the story 
which she had begun to tell herself that morning。 

About two miles from Lampsher the road ran over the 
rounded summit of the heath; a lonely spot marked by an 
obelisk of granite; setting forth the gratitude of some 
great lady of the eighteenth century who had been set 
upon by highwaymen at this spot and delivered from death 
just as hope seemed lost。 In summer it was a pleasant 
place; for the deep woods on either side murmured; and 
the heather; which grew thick round the granite pedestal; 
made the light breeze taste sweetly; in winter the 
sighing of the trees was deepened to a hollow sound; and 
the heath was as gray and almost as solitary as the empty 
sweep of the clouds above it。 

Here Rodney stopped the carriage and helped Katharine 

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Night and Day 

to alight。 Henry; too; gave her his hand; and fancied that 
she pressed it very slightly in parting as if she sent him a 
message。 But the carriage rolled on immediately; without 
wakening Mrs。 Hilbery; and left the couple standing by 
the obelisk。 That Rodney was angry with her and had 
made this opportunity for speaking to her; Katharine knew 
very well; she was neither glad nor sorry that the time 
had e; nor; indeed; knew what to expect; and thus 
remained silent。 The carriage grew smaller and smaller 
upon the dusky road; and still Rodney did not speak。 
Perhaps; she thought; he waited until the last sign of the 
carriage had disappeared beneath the curve of the road 
and they were left entirely alone。 To cloak their silence 
she read the writing on the obelisk; to do which she had 
to walk pletely round it。 She was murmuring a word 
to two of the pious lady’s thanks above her breath when 
Rodney joined her。 In silence they set out along the cart
track which skirted the verge of the trees。 

To break the silence was exactly what Rodney wished 
to do; and yet could not do to his own satisfaction。 In 
pany it was far easier to approach Katharine; alone 

with her; the aloofness and force of her character checked 
all his natural methods of attack。 He believed that she 
had behaved very badly to him; but each separate instance 
of unkindness seemed too petty to be advanced 
when they were alone together。 

“There’s no need for us to race;” he plained at last; 
upon which she immediately slackened her pace; and 
walked too slowly to suit him。 In desperation he said the 
first thing he thought of; very peevishly and without the 
dignified prelude which he had intended。 

“I’ve not enjoyed my holiday。” 

“No?” 

“No。 I shall be glad to get back to work again。” 

“Saturday; Sunday; Monday—there are only three days 
more;” she counted。 

“No one enjoys being made a fool of before other 
people;” he blurted out; for his irritation rose as she spoke; 
and got the better of his awe of her; and was inflamed by 
that awe。 

“That refers to me; I suppose;” she said calmly。 

“Every day since we’ve been here you’ve done some


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Virginia Woolf 

thing to make me appear ridiculous;” he went on。 “Of 
course; so long as it amuses you; you’re wele; but we 
have to remember that we are going to spend our lives 
together。 I asked you; only this morning; for example; to 
e out and take a turn with me in the garden。 I was 
waiting for you ten minutes; and you never came。 Every 
one saw me waiting。 The stableboys saw me。 I was so 
ashamed that I went in。 Then; on the drive you hardly 
spoke to me。 Henry noticed it。 Every one notices it… 。 
You find no difficulty in talking to Henry; though。” 

She noted these various plaints and determined 
philosophically to answer none of them; although the 
last stung her to considerable irritation。 She wished to 
find out how deep his grievance lay。 

“None of these things seem to me to matter;” she said。 

“Very well; then。 I may as well hold my tongue;” he 
replied。 

“In themselves they don’t seem to me to matter; if they 
hurt you; of course they matter;” she corrected herself 
scrupulously。 Her tone of consideration touched him; and 
he walked on in silence for a space。 

“And we might be so happy; Katharine!” he exclaimed 
impulsively; and drew her arm through his。 She withdrew 
it directly。 

“As long as you let yourself feel like this we shall never 
be happy;” she said。 

The harshness; which Henry had noticed; was again unmistakable 
in her manner。 William flinched and was silent。 
Such severity; acpanied by something indescribably 
cold and impersonal in her manner; had constantly 
been meted out to him during the last few days; always 
in the pany of others。 He had recouped himself by 
some ridiculous display of vanity which; as he knew; put 
him still more at her mercy。 Now that he was alone with 
her there was no stimulus from outside to draw his attention 
from his injury。 By a considerable effort of selfcontrol 
he forced himself to remain silent; and to make himself 
distinguish what part of his pain was due to vanity; 
what part to the certainty that no woman really loving 
him could speak thus。 

“What do I feel about Katharine?” he thought to himself。 
It was clear that she had been a very desirable and 

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Night and Day 

distinguished figure; the mistress of her little section of 
the world; but more than that; she was the person of all 
others who seemed to him the arbitress of life; the woman 
whose judgment was naturally right and steady; as his 
had never been in spite of all his culture。 And then he 
could not see her e into a room without a sense of 
the flowing of robes; of the flowering of blossoms; of the 
purple waves of the sea; of all things that are lovely and 
mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their 
heart。 

“If she were callous all the time and had only led me on 
to laugh at me I couldn’t have felt that about her;” he 
thought。 “I’m not a fool; after all。 I can’t have been utterly 
mistaken all these years。 And yet; when she speaks 
to me like that! The truth of it is;” he thought; “that I’ve 
got such despicable faults that no one could help speaking 
to me like that。 Katharine is quite right。 And yet 
those are not my serious feelings; as she knows quite 
well。 How can I change myself? What would make her 
care for me?” He was terribly tempted here to break the 
silence by asking Katharine in what respects he could 

change himself to suit her; but he sought consolation 
instead by running over the list of his gifts and acquirements; 
his knowledge of Greek and Latin; his knowledge 
of art and literature; hi

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