[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第43部分

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every　one’s　noticed　it；　why　should　we　go　on　pretending？　
When　I　told　you　I　loved　you；　I　was　wrong。　I　said　what　I　
knew　to　be　untrue。”　

As　none　of　her　words　seemed　to　her　at　all　adequate　to　
represent　what　she　felt；　she　repeated　them；　and　emphasized　
them　without　realizing　the　effect　that　they　might　
have　upon　a　man　who　cared　for　her。　She　was　pletely　
taken　aback　by　finding　her　arm　suddenly　dropped；　then　
she　saw　his　face　most　strangely　contorted；　was　he　laughing；　
it　flashed　across　her？　In　another　moment　she　saw　
that　he　was　in　tears。　In　her　bewilderment　at　this　apparition　
she　stood　aghast　for　a　second。　With　a　desperate　

sense　that　this　horror　must；　at　all　costs；　be　stopped；　she　
then　put　her　arms　about　him；　drew　his　head　for　a　moment　
upon　her　shoulder；　and　led　him　on；　murmuring　words　of　
consolation；　until　he　heaved　a　great　sigh。　They　held　fast　
to　each　other；　her　tears；　too；　ran　down　her　cheeks；　and　
were　both　quite　silent。　Noticing　the　difficulty　with　which　
he　walked；　and　feeling　the　same　extreme　lassitude　in　her　
own　limbs；　she　proposed　that　they　should　rest　for　a　moment　
where　the　bracken　was　brown　and　shriveled　beneath　
an　oaktree。　He　assented。　Once　more　he　gave　a　
great　sigh；　and　wiped　his　eyes　with　a　childlike　unconsciousness；　
and　began　to　speak　without　a　trace　of　his　
previous　anger。　The　idea　came　to　her　that　they　were　like　
the　children　in　the　fairy　tale　who　were　lost　in　a　wood；　
and　with　this　in　her　mind　she　noticed　the　scattering　of　
dead　leaves　all　round　them　which　had　been　blown　by　the　
wind　into　heaps；　a　foot　or　two　deep；　here　and　there。　

“When　did　you　begin　to　feel　this；　Katharine？”　he　said；　
“for　it　isn’t　true　to　say　that　you’ve　always　felt　it。　I　admit　
I　was　unreasonable　the　first　night　when　you　found　that　
your　clothes　had　been　left　behind。　Still；　where’s　the　fault　

209　



Night　and　Day　

in　that？　I　could　promise　you　never　to　interfere　with　your　
clothes　again。　I　admit　I　was　cross　when　I　found　you　upstairs　
with　Henry。　Perhaps　I　showed　it　too　openly。　But　
that’s　not　unreasonable　either　when　one’s　engaged。　Ask　
your　mother。　And　now　this　terrible　thing—”　He　broke　off；　
unable　for　the　moment　to　proceed　any　further。　“This　decision　
you　say　you’ve　e　to—have　you　discussed　it　
with　any　one？　Your　mother；　for　example；　or　Henry？”　

“No；　no；　of　course　not；”　she　said；　stirring　the　leaves　with　
her　hand。　“But　you　don’t　understand　me；　William—”　

“Help　me　to　understand　you—”　

“You　don’t　understand；　I　mean；　my　real　feelings；　how　
could　you？　I’ve　only　now　faced　them　myself。　But　I　haven’t　
got　the　sort　of　feeling—love；　I　mean—I　don’t　know　what　
to　call　it”—she　looked　vaguely　towards　the　horizon　sunk　
under　mist—”but；　anyhow；　without　it　our　marriage　would　
be　a　farce—”　

“How　a　farce？”　he　asked。　“But　this　kind　of　analysis　is　
disastrous！”　he　exclaimed。　

“I　should　have　done　it　before；”　she　said　gloomily。　

“You　make　yourself　think　things　you　don’t　think；”　he　

continued；　being　demonstrative　with　his　hands；　as　
his　manner　was。　“Believe　me；　Katharine；　before　we　came　
here　we　were　perfectly　happy。　You　were　full　of　plans　for　
our　house—the　chaircovers；　don’t　you　remember？—like　
any　other　woman　who　is　about　to　be　married。　Now；　for　no　
reason　whatever；　you　begin　to　fret　about　your　feeling　
and　about　my　feeling；　with　the　usual　result。　I　assure　you；　
Katharine；　I’ve　been　through　it　all　myself。　At　one　time　I　
was　always　asking　myself　absurd　questions　which　came　
to　nothing　either。　What　you　want；　if　I　may　say　so；　is　
some　occupation　to　take　you　out　of　yourself　when　this　
morbid　mood　es　on。　If　it　hadn’t　been　for　my　poetry；　I　
assure　you；　I　should　often　have　been　very　much　in　the　
same　state　myself。　To　let　you　into　a　secret；”　he　continued；　
with　his　little　chuckle；　which　now　sounded　almost　
assured；　“I’ve　often　gone　home　from　seeing　you　in　such　a　
state　of　nerves　that　I　had　to　force　myself　to　write　a　page　
or　two　before　I　could　get　you　out　of　my　head。　Ask　Denham；　
he’ll　tell　you　how　he　met　me　one　night；　he’ll　tell　you　what　
a　state　he　found　me　in。”　

Katharine　started　with　displeasure　at　the　mention　of　

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Virginia　Woolf　

Ralph’s　name。　The　thought　of　the　conversation　in　which　
her　conduct　had　been　made　a　subject　for　discussion　with　
Denham　roused　her　anger；　but；　as　she　instantly　felt；　she　
had　scarcely　the　right　to　grudge　William　any　use　of　her　
name；　seeing　what　her　fault　against　him　had　been　from　
first　to　last。　And　yet　Denham！　She　had　a　view　of　him　as　a　
judge。　She　figured　him　sternly　weighing　instances　of　her　
levity　in　this　masculine　court　of　inquiry　into　feminine　
morality　and　gruffly　dismissing　both　her　and　her　family　
with　some　halfsarcastic；　halftolerant　phrase　which　sealed　
her　doom；　as　far　as　he　was　concerned；　for　ever。　Having　
met　him　so　lately；　the　sense　of　his　character　was　strong　
in　her。　The　thought　was　not　a　pleasant　one　for　a　proud　
woman；　but　she　had　yet　to　learn　the　art　of　subduing　her　
expression。　Her　eyes　fixed　upon　the　ground；　her　brows　
drawn　together；　gave　William　a　very　fair　picture　of　the　
resentment　that　she　was　forcing　herself　to　control。　A　certain　
degree　of　apprehension；　occasionally　culminating　in　
a　kind　of　fear；　had　always　entered　into　his　love　for　her；　
and　had　increased；　rather　to　his　surprise；　in　the　greater　
intimacy　of　their　engagement。　Beneath　her　steady；　ex


emplary　surface　ran　a　vein　of　passion　which　seemed　to　
him　now　perverse；　now　pletely　irrational；　for　it　never　
took　the　normal　channel　of　glorification　of　him　and　his　
doings；　and；　indeed；　he　almost　preferred　the　steady　good　
sense；　which　had　always　marked　their　relationship；　to　a　
more　romantic　bond。　But　passion　she　had；　he　could　not　
deny　it；　and　hitherto　he　had　tried　to　see　it　employed　in　
his　thoughts　upon　the　lives　of　the　children　who　were　to　
be　born　to　them。　

“She　will　make　a　perfect　mother—a　mother　of　sons；”　
he　thought；　but　seeing　her　sitting　there；　gloomy　and　silent；　
he　began　to　have　his　doubts　on　this　point。　“A　farce；　
a　farce；”　he　thought　to　himself。　“She　said　that　our　marriage　
would　be　a　farce；”　and　he　became　suddenly　aware　
of　their　situation；　sitting　upon　the　ground；　among　the　
dead　leaves；　not　fifty　yards　from　the　main　road；　so　that　it　
was　quite　possible　for　some　one　passing　to　see　and　recognize　
them。　He　brushed　off　his　face　any　trace　that　might　
remain　of　that　unseemly　exhibition　of　emotion。　But　he　
was　more　troubled　by　Katharine’s　appearance；　as　she　sat　
rapt　in　thought　upon　the　ground；　than　by　his　own；　there　

211　



Night　and　Day　

was　something　improper　to　him　in　her　selfforgetfulness。　
A　man　naturally　alive　to　the　conventions　of　society；　he　
was　strictly　conventional　where　women　were　concerned；　
and　especially　if　the　women　happened　to　be　in　any　way　
connected　with　him。　He　noticed　with　distress　the　long　
strand　of　dark　hair　touching　her　shoulder　and　two　or　three　
dead　beechleaves　attached　to　her　dress；　but　to　recall　
her　mind　in　their　present　circumstances　to　a　sense　of　
these　details　was　impossible。　She　sat　there；　seeming　unconscious　
of　everything。　He　suspected　that　in　her　silence　
she　was　reproaching　herself；　but　he　wished　that　she　would　
think　of　her　hair　and　of　the　dead　beechleaves；　which　
were　of　more　immediate　importance　to　him　than　anything　
else。　Indeed；　these　trifles　drew　his　attention　
strangely　from　his　own　doubtful　and　uneasy　state　of　mind；　
for　relief；　mixing　itself　with　pain；　stirred　up　a　most　curious　
hurry　and　tumult　in　his　breast；　almost　concealing　his　
first　sharp　sense　of　bleak　and　overwhelming　disappointment。　
In　order　to　relieve　this　restlessness　and　close　a　
distressingly　illordered　scene；　he　rose　abruptly　and　helped　
Katharine　to　her　feet。　She　smiled　a　little　at　the　minute　

care　with　which　he　tidied　her　and　yet；　when　he　brushed　
the　dead　leaves　from　his　own　coat；　she　flinched；　seeing　
in　that　action　the　gesture　of　a　lonely　man。　

“William；”　she　said；　“I　will　marry　you。　I　will　try　to　make　
you　happy。”　

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Virginia　Woolf　

CHAPTER　XIX　


The　afternoon　was　already　growing　dark　when　the　two　
other　wayfarers；　Mary　and　Ralph　Denham；　came　out　on　
the　high　road　beyond　the　outskirts　of　Lincoln。　The　high　
road；　as　they　both　felt；　was　better　suited　to　this　return　
journey　than　the　open　country；　and　for　the　first　mile　or　
so　of　the　way　they　spoke　little。　In　his　own　mind　Ralph　
was　following　the　passage　of　the　Otway　carriage　over　the　
heath；　he　then　went　back　to　the　five　or　ten　minutes　that　
he　had　spent　with　Katharine；　and　examined　each　word　
with　the　care　that　a　scholar　displays　upon　the　irregularities　
of　an　ancient　text。　He　was　determined　that　the　glow；　
the　romance；　the　atmosphere　of　this　meeting　should　not　
paint　what　he　must　in　future　regard　as　sober　facts。　On　
her　side　Mary　was　silent；　not　because　her　thoughts　took　
much　handling；　but　because　her　mind　seemed　empty　of　
thought　as　her　heart　of　feeling。　Only　Ralph’s　presence；　as　
she　knew；　preserved　this　numbness；　for　she　could　foresee　
a　time　of　loneliness　when　many　varieties　of　pain　would　
beset　her。　At　the　present　moment　her　effort　was　to　pre


serve　what　she　could　of　the　wreck　of　her　selfrespect；　for　
such　she　deemed　that　momentary　glimpse　of　her　love　so　
involuntarily　revealed　to　Ralph。　In　the　light　of　reason　it　
did　not　much　matter；　perhaps；　but　it　was　her　instinct　to　
be　careful　of　that　vision　of　herself　which　keeps　pace　so　
evenly　beside　every　one　of　us；　and　had　been　damaged　by　
her　confession。　The　gray　night　ing　down　over　the　
country　was　kind　to　her；　and　she　thought　that　one　of　
these　days　she　would　find　fort　in　sitting　upon　the　
earth；　alone；　beneath　a　tree。　Looking　through　the　darkness；　
she　marked　the　swelling　ground　and　the　tree。　Ralph　
made　her　start　by　saying　abruptly；　

“What　I　was　going　to　say　when　we　were　interrupted　at　
lunch　was　that　if　you　go　to　America　I　shall　e；　too。　It　
can’t　be　harder　to　earn　a　living　there　than　it　is　here。　
However；　that’s　not　the　point。　The　point　is；　Mary；　that　I　
want　to　marry　you。　Well；　what　do　you　say？”　He　spoke　
firmly；　waited　for　no　answer；　and　took　her　arm　in　his。　
“You　know　me　by　this　time；　the　good　and　the　bad；”　he　
went　on。　“You　know　my　tempers。　I’ve　tried　to　let　you　
know　my　faults。　Well；　what　do　you　say；　Mary？”　

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Night　and　Day　

She　said　nothing；　but　this　did　not　seem　to　strike　him。　

“In　most　ways；　at　least　in　the　important　ways；　as　you　
said；　we　know　each　other　and　we　think　alike。　I　believe　
you　are　the　only　person　in　the　world　I　could　live　with　
happily。　And　if　you　feel　the　same　about　me—as　you　do；　
don’t　you；　Mary？—we　should　make　each　other　happy。”　
Here　he　paused；　and　seemed　to　be　in　no　hurry　for　an　
answer；　he　seemed；　indeed；　to　be　continuing　his　own　
thoughts。　

“Yes；　but　I’m　afraid　I　couldn’t　do　it；”　Mary　said　at　last。　
The　casual　and　rather　hurried　way　in　which　she　spoke；　
together　with　the　fact　that　she　was　saying　the　exact　opposite　
of　what　he　expected　her　to　say；　baffled　him　so　
much　that　he　instinctively　loosened　his　clasp　upon　her　
arm　and　she　withdrew　it　quietly。　

“You　couldn’t　do　it？”　he　asked。　

“No；　I　couldn’t