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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第60部分


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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 marry you;” she replied。 

“You don’t care for me?” 

She made no answer。 

“Well; Mary;” he said; with a curious laugh; “I must be 
an arrant fool; for I thought you did。” They walked for a 

minute or two in silence; and suddenly he turned to her; 
looked at her; and exclaimed: “I don’t believe you; Mary。 
You’re not telling me the truth。” 

“I’m too tired to argue; Ralph;” she replied; turning her 
head away from him。 “I ask you to believe what I say。 I 
can’t marry you; I don’t want to marry you。” 

The voice in which she stated this was so evidently the 
voice of one in some extremity of anguish that Ralph had 
no course but to obey her。 And as soon as the tone of her 
voice had died out; and the surprise faded from his mind; 
he found himself believing that she had spoken the truth; 
for he had but little vanity; and soon her refusal seemed 
a natural thing to him。 He slipped through all the grades 
of despondency until he reached a bottom of absolute 
gloom。 Failure seemed to mark the whole of his life; he 
had failed with Katharine; and now he had failed with 
Mary。 Up at once sprang the thought of Katharine; and 
with it a sense of exulting freedom; but this he checked 
instantly。 No good had ever e to him from Katharine; 
his whole relationship with her had been made up of 
dreams; and as he thought of the little substance there 

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Virginia Woolf 

had been in his dreams he began to lay the blame of the 
present catastrophe upon his dreams。 

“Haven’t I always been thinking of Katharine while I 
was with Mary? I might have loved Mary if it hadn’t been 
for that idiocy of mine。 She cared for me once; I’m certain 
of that; but I tormented her so with my humors that 
I let my chances slip; and now she won’t risk marrying 
me。 And this is what I’ve made of my life—nothing; nothing; 
nothing。” 

The tramp of their boots upon the dry road seemed to 
asseverate nothing; nothing; nothing。 Mary thought that 
this silence was the silence of relief; his depression she 
ascribed to the fact that he had seen Katharine and parted 
from her; leaving her in the pany of William Rodney。 
She could not blame him for loving Katharine; but that; 
when he loved another; he should ask her to marry him— 
that seemed to her the cruellest treachery。 Their old friendship 
and its firm base upon indestructible qualities of 
character crumbled; and her whole past seemed foolish; 
herself weak and credulous; and Ralph merely the shell of 
an honest man。 Oh; the past—so much made up of Ralph; 

and now; as she saw; made up of something strange and 
false and other than she had thought it。 She tried to 
recapture a saying she had made to help herself that 
morning; as Ralph paid the bill for luncheon; but she 
could see him paying the bill more vividly than she could 
remember the phrase。 Something about truth was in it; 
how to see the truth is our great chance in this world。 

“If you don’t want to marry me;” Ralph now began again; 
without abruptness; with diffidence rather; “there is no 
need why we should cease to see each other; is there? Or 
would you rather that we should keep apart for the 
present?” 

“Keep apart? I don’t know—I must think about it。” 

“Tell me one thing; Mary;” he resumed; “have I done 
anything to make you change your mind about me?” 

She was immensely tempted to give way to her natural 
trust in him; revived by the deep and now melancholy 
tones of his voice; and to tell him of her love; and of 
what had changed it。 But although it seemed likely that 
she would soon control her anger with him; the certainty 
that he did not love her; confirmed by every word of his 

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Night and Day 

proposal; forbade any freedom of speech。 To hear him 
speak and to feel herself unable to reply; or constrained 
in her replies; was so painful that she longed for the time 
when she should be alone。 A more pliant woman would 
have taken this chance of an explanation; whatever risks 
attached to it; but to one of Mary’s firm and resolute 
temperament there was degradation in the idea of self
abandonment; let the waves of emotion rise ever so high; 
she could not shut her eyes to what she conceived to be 
the truth。 Her silence puzzled Ralph。 He searched his 
memory for words or deeds that might have made her 
think badly of him。 In his present mood instances came 
but too quickly; and on top of them this culminating 
proof of his baseness—that he had asked her to marry 
him when his reasons for such a proposal were selfish 
and halfhearted。 

“You needn’t answer;” he said grimly。 “There are reasons 
enough; I know。 But must they kill our friendship; 
Mary? Let me keep that; at least。” 

“Oh;” she thought to herself; with a sudden rush of 
anguish which threatened disaster to her selfrespect; 

“it has e to this—to this—when I could have given 
him everything!” 

“Yes; we can still be friends;” she said; with what firmness 
she could muster。 

“I shall want your friendship;” he said。 He added; “If 
you find it possible; let me see you as often as you can。 
The oftener the better。 I shall want your help。” 

She promised this; and they went on to talk calmly of 
things that had no reference to their feelings—a talk which; 
in its constraint; was infinitely sad to both of them。 

One more reference was made to the state of things 
between them late that night; when Elizabeth had gone 
to her room; and the two young men had stumbled off to 
bed in such a state of sleep that they hardly felt the floor 
beneath their feet after a day’s shooting。 

Mary drew her chair a little nearer to the fire; for the 
logs were burning low; and at this time of night it was 
hardly worth while to replenish them。 Ralph was reading; 
but she had noticed for some time that his eyes instead 
of following the print were fixed rather above the page 
with an intensity of gloom that came to weigh upon her 

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mind。 She had not weakened in her resolve not to give 
way; for reflection had only made her more bitterly certain 
that; if she gave way; it would be to her own wish 
and not to his。 But she had determined that there was no 
reason why he should suffer if her reticence were the 
cause of his suffering。 Therefore; although she found it 
painful; she spoke: 

“You asked me if I had changed my mind about you; 
Ralph;” she said。 “I think there’s only one thing。 When 
you asked me to marry you; I don’t think you meant it。 
That made me angry—for the moment。 Before; you’d always 
spoken the truth。” 

Ralph’s book slid down upon his knee and fell upon the 
floor。 He rested his forehead on his hand and looked into 
the fire。 He was trying to recall the exact words in which 
he had made his proposal to Mary。 

“I never said I loved you;” he said at last。 

She winced; but she respected him for saying what he 
did; for this; after all; was a fragment of the truth

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