[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第116部分

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forward。　

“You　will　stay　here；”　said　her　father。　

“What　are　you　going　to　say　to　him？”　she　asked。　

“I　suppose　I　may　say　what　I　like　in　my　own　house？”　he　
returned。　

“Then　I　go；　too；”　she　replied。　

At　these　words；　which　seemed　to　imply　a　determination　
to　go—to　go　for　ever；　Mr。　Hilbery　returned　to　his　position　
in　front　of　the　fire；　and　began　swaying　slightly　from　side　
to　side　without　for　the　moment　making　any　remark。　

“I　understood　you　to　say　that　you　were　not　engaged　to　
him；”　he　said　at　length；　fixing　his　eyes　upon　his　daughter。　

“We　are　not　engaged；”　she　said。　

“It　should　be　a　matter　of　indifference　to　you；　then；　
whether　he　es　here　or　not—I　will　not　have　you　listening　
to　other　things　when　I　am　speaking　to　you！”　he　
broke　off　angrily；　perceiving　a　slight　movement　on　her　
part　to　one　side。　“Answer　me　frankly；　what　is　your　relationship　
with　this　young　man？”　

“Nothing　that　I　can　explain　to　a　third　person；”　she　said　

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obstinately。　

“I　will　have　no　more　of　these　equivocations；”　he　replied。　


“I　refuse　to　explain；”　she　returned；　and　as　she　said　it　
the　front　door　banged　to。　“There！”　she　exclaimed。　“He　is　
gone！”　She　flashed　such　a　look　of　fiery　indignation　at　her　
father　that　he　lost　his　selfcontrol　for　a　moment。　

“For　God’s　sake；　Katharine；　control　yourself！”　he　cried。　

She　looked　for　a　moment　like　a　wild　animal　caged　in　a　
civilized　dwellingplace。　She　glanced　over　the　walls　covered　
with　books；　as　if　for　a　second　she　had　forgotten　the　
position　of　the　door。　Then　she　made　as　if　to　go；　but　her　
father　laid　his　hand　upon　her　shoulder。　He　pelled　her　
to　sit　down。　

“These　emotions　have　been　very　upsetting；　naturally；”　
he　said。　His　manner　had　regained　all　its　suavity；　and　he　
spoke　with　a　soothing　assumption　of　paternal　authority。　
“You’ve　been　placed　in　a　very　difficult　position；　as　I　understand　
from　Cassandra。　Now　let　us　e　to　terms；　we　
will　leave　these　agitating　questions　in　peace　for　the　
present。　Meanwhile；　let　us　try　to　behave　like　civilized　

beings。　Let　us　read　Sir　Walter　Scott。　What　d’you　say　to　
‘The　Antiquary；’　eh？　Or　‘The　Bride　of　Lammermoor’？”　

He　made　his　own　choice；　and　before　his　daughter　could　
protest　or　make　her　escape；　she　found　herself　being　turned　
by　the　agency　of　Sir　Walter　Scott　into　a　civilized　human　
being。　

Yet　Mr。　Hilbery　had　grave　doubts；　as　he　read；　whether　
the　process　was　more　than　skindeep。　Civilization　had　
been　very　profoundly　and　unpleasantly　overthrown　that　
evening；　the　extent　of　the　ruin　was　still　undetermined；　
he　had　lost　his　temper；　a　physical　disaster　not　to　be　
matched　for　the　space　of　ten　years　or　so；　and　his　own　
condition　urgently　required　soothing　and　renovating　at　
the　hands　of　the　classics。　His　house　was　in　a　state　of　
revolution；　he　had　a　vision　of　unpleasant　encounters　on　
the　staircase；　his　meals　would　be　poisoned　for　days　to　
e；　was　literature　itself　a　specific　against　such　
disagreeables？　A　note　of　hollowness　was　in　his　voice　as　
he　read。　

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Night　and　Day　

CHAPTER　XXXIII　


Considering　that　Mr。　Hilbery　lived　in　a　house　which　was　
accurately　numbered　in　order　with　its　fellows；　and　that　
he　filled　up　forms；　paid　rent；　and　had　seven　more　years　of　
tenancy　to　run；　he　had　an　excuse　for　laying　down　laws　for　
the　conduct　of　those　who　lived　in　his　house；　and　this　
excuse；　though　profoundly　inadequate；　he　found　useful　
during　the　interregnum　of　civilization　with　which　he　now　
found　himself　faced。　In　obedience　to　those　laws；　Rodney　
disappeared；　Cassandra　was　dispatched　to　catch　the　
eleventhirty　on　Monday　morning；　Denham　was　seen　no　
more；　so　that　only　Katharine；　the　lawful　occupant　of　the　
upper　rooms；　remained；　and　Mr。　Hilbery　thought　himself　
petent　to　see　that　she　did　nothing　further　to　promise　
herself。　As　he　bade　her　good　morning　next　day　
he　was　aware　that　he　knew　nothing　of　what　she　was　thinking；　
but；　as　he　reflected　with　some　bitterness；　even　this　
was　an　advance　upon　the　ignorance　of　the　previous　mornings。　
He　went　to　his　study；　wrote；　tore　up；　and　wrote　
again　a　letter　to　his　wife；　asking　her　to　e　back　on　

account　of　domestic　difficulties　which　he　specified　at　
first；　but　in　a　later　draft　more　discreetly　left　unspecified。　
Even　if　she　started　the　very　moment　that　she　got　it；　he　
reflected；　she　would　not　be　home　till　Tuesday　night；　and　
he　counted　lugubriously　the　number　of　hours　that　he　would　
have　to　spend　in　a　position　of　detestable　authority　alone　
with　his　daughter。　

What　was　she　doing　now；　he　wondered；　as　he　addressed　
the　envelope　to　his　wife。　He　could　not　control　the　telephone。　
He　could　not　play　the　spy。　She　might　be　making　
any　arrangements　she　chose。　Yet　the　thought　did　not　disturb　
him　so　much　as　the　strange；　unpleasant；　illicit　atmosphere　
of　the　whole　scene　with　the　young　people　the　night　
before。　His　sense　of　disfort　was　almost　physical。　

Had　he　known　it；　Katharine　was　far　enough　withdrawn；　
both　physically　and　spiritually；　from　the　telephone。　She　
sat　in　her　room　with　the　dictionaries　spreading　their　wide　
leaves　on　the　table　before　her；　and　all　the　pages　which　
they　had　concealed　for　so　many　years　arranged　in　a　pile。　
She　worked　with　the　steady　concentration　that　is　produced　
by　the　successful　effort　to　think　down　some　un


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wele　thought　by　means　of　another　thought。　Having　
absorbed　the　unwele　thought；　her　mind　went　on　with　
additional　vigor；　derived　from　the　victory；　on　a　sheet　of　
paper　lines　of　figures　and　symbols　frequently　and　firmly　
written　down　marked　the　different　stages　of　its　progress。　
And　yet　it　was　broad　daylight；　there　were　sounds　of　knocking　
and　sweeping；　which　proved　that　living　people　were　
at　work　on　the　other　side　of　the　door；　and　the　door；　which　
could　be　thrown　open　in　a　second；　was　her　only　protection　
against　the　world。　But　she　had　somehow　risen　to　be　
mistress　in　her　own　kingdom；　assuming　her　sovereignty　
unconsciously。　

Steps　approached　her　unheard。　It　is　true　that　they　were　
steps　that　lingered；　divagated；　and　mounted　with　the　
deliberation　natural　to　one　past　sixty　whose　arms；　moreover；　
are　full　of　leaves　and　blossoms；　but　they　came　on　
steadily；　and　soon　a　tap　of　laurel　boughs　against　the　
door　arrested　Katharine’s　pencil　as　it　touched　the　page。　
She　did　not　move；　however；　and　sat　blankeyed　as　if　waiting　
for　the　interruption　to　cease。　Instead；　the　door　opened。　
At　first；　she　attached　no　meaning　to　the　moving　mass　of　

green　which　seemed　to　enter　the　room　independently　of　
any　human　agency。　Then　she　recognized　parts　of　her　
mother’s　face　and　person　behind　the　yellow　flowers　and　
soft　velvet　of　the　palmbuds。　

“From　Shakespeare’s　tomb！”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Hilbery；　
dropping　the　entire　mass　upon　the　floor；　with　a　gesture　
that　seemed　to　indicate　an　act　of　dedication。　Then　she　
flung　her　arms　wide　and　embraced　her　daughter。　

“Thank　God；　Katharine！”　she　exclaimed。　“Thank　God！”　
she　repeated。　

“You’ve　e　back？”　said　Katharine；　very　vaguely；　standing　
up　to　receive　the　embrace。　

Although　she　recognized　her　mother’s　presence；　she　was　
very　far　from　taking　part　in　the　scene；　and　yet　felt　it　to　
be　amazingly　appropriate　that　her　mother　should　be　there；　
thanking　God　emphatically　for　unknown　blessings；　and　
strewing　the　floor　with　flowers　and　leaves　from　
Shakespeare’s　tomb。　

“Nothing　else　matters　in　the　world！”　Mrs。　Hilbery　continued。　
“Names　aren’t　everything；　it’s　what　we　feel　that’s　
everything。　I　didn’t　want　silly；　kind；　interfering　letters。　I　

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didn’t　want　your　father　to　tell　me。　I　knew　it　from　the　
first。　I　prayed　that　it　might　be　so。”　

“You　knew　it？”　Katharine　repeated　her　mother’s　words　
softly　and　vaguely；　looking　past　her。　“How　did　you　know　
it？”　She　began；　like　a　child；　to　finger　a　tassel　hanging　
from　her　mother’s　cloak。　

“The　first　evening　you　told　me；　Katharine。　Oh；　and　thousands　
of　times　—dinnerparties—talking　about　books—　
the　way　he　came　into　the　room—your　voice　when　you　
spoke　of　him。”　

Katharine　seemed　to　consider　each　of　these　proof