[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


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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。　


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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