《[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45部分


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fastened the coat securely; grasped the stick firmly。 The 
ivy spray was still twisted about the handle; this one 
sacrifice; she thought; she might make to sentimentality 
and personality; and she picked two leaves from the ivy 

and put them in her pocket before she disencumbered 
her stick of the rest of it。 She grasped the stick in the 
middle; and settled her fur cap closely upon her head; as 
if she must be in trim for a long and stormy walk。 Next; 
standing in the middle of the road; she took a slip of 
paper from her purse; and read out loud a list of missions 
entrusted to her—fruit; butter; string; and so on; 
and all the time she never spoke directly to Ralph or 
looked at him。 

Ralph heard her giving orders to attentive; rosychecked 
men in white aprons; and in spite of his own preoccupation; 
he mented upon the determination with which 
she made her wishes known。 Once more he began; automatically; 
to take stock of her characteristics。 Standing 
thus; superficially observant and stirring the sawdust on 
the floor meditatively with the toe of his boot; he was 
roused by a musical and familiar voice behind him; acpanied 
by a light touch upon his shoulder。 

“I’m not mistaken? Surely Mr。 Denham? I caught a 
glimpse of your coat through the window; and I felt sure 
that I knew your coat。 Have you seen Katharine or Will


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Night and Day 

iam? I’m wandering about Lincoln looking for the ruins。” 

It was Mrs。 Hilbery; her entrance created some stir in 
the shop; many people looked at her。 

“First of all; tell me where I am;” she demanded; but; 
catching sight of the attentive shopman; she appealed 
to him。 “The ruins—my party is waiting for me at the 
ruins。 The Roman ruins—or Greek; Mr。 Denham? Your town 
has a great many beautiful things in it; but I wish it 
hadn’t so many ruins。 I never saw such delightful little 
pots of honey in my life—are they made by your own 
bees? Please give me one of those little pots; and tell me 
how I shall find my way to the ruins。” 

“And now;” she continued; having received the information 
and the pot of honey; having been introduced to 
Mary; and having insisted that they should acpany 
her back to the ruins; since in a town with so many turnings; 
such prospects; such delightful little halfnaked boys 
dabbling in pools; such Veian canals; such old blue 
china in the curiosity shops; it was impossible for one 
person all alone to find her way to the ruins。 “Now;” she 
exclaimed; “please tell me what you’re doing here; Mr。 

Denham—for you ARE Mr。 Denham; aren’t you?” she inquired; 
gazing at him with a sudden suspicion of her own 
accuracy。 “The brilliant young man who writes for the 
Review; I mean? Only yesterday my husband was telling 
me he thought you one of the cleverest young men he 
knew。 Certainly; you’ve been the messenger of Providence 
to me; for unless I’d seen you I’m sure I should never 
have found the ruins at all。” 

They had reached the Roman arch when Mrs。 Hilbery 
caught sight of her own party; standing like sentinels 
facing up and down the road so as to intercept her if; as 
they expected; she had got lodged in some shop。 

“I’ve found something much better than ruins!” she 
exclaimed。 “I’ve found two friends who told me how to 
find you; which I could never have done without them。 
They must e and have tea with us。 What a pity that 
we’ve just had luncheon。” Could they not somehow revoke 
that meal? 

Katharine; who had gone a few steps by herself down 
the road; and was investigating the window of an 
ironmonger; as if her mother might have got herself con


200 



Virginia Woolf 

cealed among mowingmachines and gardenshears; 
turned sharply on hearing her voice; and came towards 
them。 She was a great deal surprised to see Denham and 
Mary Datchet。 Whether the cordiality with which she 
greeted them was merely that which is natural to a surprise 
meeting in the country; or whether she was really 
glad to see them both; at any rate she exclaimed with 
unusual pleasure as she shook hands: 

“I never knew you lived here。 Why didn’t you say so; 
and we could have met? And are you staying with Mary?” 
she continued; turning to Ralph。 “What a pity we didn’t 
meet before。” 

Thus confronted at a distance of only a few feet by the 
real body of the woman about whom he had dreamt so 
many million dreams; Ralph stammered; he made a clutch 
at his selfcontrol; the color either came to his cheeks or 
left them; he knew not which; but he was determined to 
face her and track down in the cold light of day whatever 
vestige of truth there might be in his persistent imaginations。 
He did not succeed in saying anything。 It was Mary 
who spoke for both of them。 He was struck dumb by find


ing that Katharine was quite different; in some strange 
way; from his memory; so that he had to dismiss his old 
view in order to accept the new one。 The wind was blowing 
her crimson scarf across her face; the wind had already 
loosened her hair; which looped across the corner 
of one of the large; dark eyes which; so he used to think; 
looked sad; now they looked bright with the brightness 
of the sea struck by an unclouded ray; everything about 
her seemed rapid; fragmentary; and full of a kind of racing 
speed。 He realized suddenly that he had never seen 
her in the daylight before。 

Meanwhile; it was decided that it was too late to go in 
search of ruins as they had intended; and the whole party 
began to walk towards the stables where the carriage 
had been put up。 

“Do you know;” said Katharine; keeping slightly in advance 
of the rest with Ralph; “I thought I saw you this 
morning; standing at a window。 But I decided that it 
couldn’t be you。 And it must have been you all the same。” 

“Yes; I thought I saw you—but it wasn’t you;” he replied。 


201 



Night and Day 

This remark; and the rough strain in his voice; recalled 
to her memory so many difficult speeches and abortive 
meetings that she was jerked directly back to the London 
drawingroom; the family relics; and the teatable; and 
at the same time recalled some halffinished or interrupted 
remark which she had wanted to make herself or 
to hear from him—she could not remember what it was。 

“I expect it was me;” she said。 “I was looking for my 
mother。 It happens every time we e to Lincoln。 In 
fact; there never was a family so unable to take care of 
itself as ours is。 Not that it very much matters; because 
some one always turns up in the nick of time to help us 
out of our scrapes。 Once I was left in a field with a bull 
when I was a baby—but where did we leave the carriage? 
Down that street or the next? The next; I think。” She 
glanced back and saw that the others were following obediently; 
listening to certain memories of Lincoln upon 
which Mrs。 Hilbery had started。 “But what are you doing 
here?” she asked。 

“I’m buying a cottage。 I’m going to live here—as soon 
as I can find a cottage; and Mary tells me there’ll be no 

difficulty about that。” 

“But;” she exclaimed; almost standing still in her surprise; 
“you will give up the Bar; then?” It flashed across 
her mind that he must already be engaged to Mary。 

“The solicitor’s office? Yes。 I’m giving that up。” 

“But why?” she asked。 She answered herself at once; 
with a curious change from rapid speech to an almost 
melancholy tone。 “I think you’re very wise to give it up。 
You will be much happier。” 

At this very moment; when her words seemed to be 
striking a path into the future for him; they stepped into 
the yard of an inn; and there beheld the family coach of 
the Otways; to which one sleek horse was already attached; 
while the second was being led out of the stable 
door by the hostler。 

“I don’t know what one means by happiness;” he said 
briefly; having to step aside in order to avoid a groom with 
a bucket。 “Why do you think I shall be happy? I don’t 
expect to be anything of the kind。 I expect to be rather 
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 th

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