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╰╮　　、　．．·°
゛　╰┛　　*

。。

**

Night　and　Day　


by　Virginia　Woolf　


A　Penn　State　Electronic　Classics　Series　
Publication　



Night　and　Day　by　Virginia　Woolf　is　a　publication　of　the　Pennsylvania　State　University。　This　Portable　
Document　file　is　furnished　free　and　without　any　charge　of　any　kind。　Any　person　using　this　
document　file；　for　any　purpose；　and　in　any　way　does　so　at　his　or　her　own　risk。　Neither　the　
Pennsylvania　State　University　nor　Jim　Manis；　Faculty　Editor；　nor　anyone　associated　with　the　
Pennsylvania　State　University　assumes　any　responsibility　for　the　material　contained　within　the　
document　or　for　the　file　as　an　electronic　transmission；　in　any　way。　

Night　and　Day　by　Virginia　Woolf；　the　Pennsylvania　State　University；　Electronic　Classics　Series；　
Jim　Manis；　Faculty　Editor；　Hazleton；　PA　182021291　is　a　Portable　Document　File　produced　as　
part　of　an　ongoing　student　publication　project　to　bring　classical　works　of　literature；　in　English；　
to　free　and　easy　access　of　those　wishing　to　make　use　of　them。　

Cover　Design：　Jim　Manis　

Copyright　。　2001　The　Pennsylvania　State　University　

The　Pennsylvania　State　University　is　an　equal　opportunity　university。　


Virginia　Woolf　

Night　and　Day　


by　Virginia　Woolf　


CHAPTER　I　

It　was　a　Sunday　evening　in　October；　and　in　mon　with　
many　other　young　ladies　of　her　class；　Katharine　Hilbery　
was　pouring　out　tea。　Perhaps　a　fifth　part　of　her　mind　was　
thus　occupied；　and　the　remaining　parts　leapt　over　the　
little　barrier　of　day　which　interposed　between　Monday　
morning　and　this　rather　subdued　moment；　and　played　
with　the　things　one　does　voluntarily　and　normally　in　the　
daylight。　But　although　she　was　silent；　she　was　evidently　
mistress　of　a　situation　which　was　familiar　enough　to　her；　
and　inclined　to　let　it　take　its　way　for　the　six　hundredth　
time；　perhaps；　without　bringing　into　play　any　of　her　un


occupied　faculties。　A　single　glance　was　enough　to　show　
that　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　so　rich　in　the　gifts　which　make　tea
parties　of　elderly　distinguished　people　successful；　that　
she　scarcely　needed　any　help　from　her　daughter；　provided　
that　the　tiresome　business　of　teacups　and　bread　and　butter　
was　discharged　for　her。　

Considering　that　the　little　party　had　been　seated　round　
the　teatable　for　less　than　twenty　minutes；　the　animation　
observable　on　their　faces；　and　the　amount　of　sound　
they　were　producing　collectively；　were　very　creditable　to　
the　hostess。　It　suddenly　came　into　Katharine’s　mind　that　
if　some　one　opened　the　door　at　this　moment　he　would　
think　that　they　were　enjoying　themselves；　he　would　think；　
“What　an　extremely　nice　house　to　e　into！”　and　instinctively　
she　laughed；　and　said　something　to　increase　
the　noise；　for　the　credit　of　the　house　presumably；　since　
she　herself　had　not　been　feeling　exhilarated。　At　the　very　
same　moment；　rather　to　her　amusement；　the　door　was　
flung　open；　and　a　young　man　entered　the　room。　Katharine；　
as　she　shook　hands　with　him；　asked　him；　in　her　own　
mind；　“Now；　do　you　think　we’re　enjoying　ourselves　enor


3　



Night　and　Day　

mously？”　…　“Mr。　Denham；　mother；”　she　said　aloud；　for　
she　saw　that　her　mother　had　forgotten　his　name。　

That　fact　was　perceptible　to　Mr。　Denham　also；　and　increased　
the　awkwardness　which　inevitably　attends　the　
entrance　of　a　stranger　into　a　room　full　of　people　much　at　
their　ease；　and　all　launched　upon　sentences。　At　the　same　
time；　it　seemed　to　Mr。　Denham　as　if　a　thousand　softly　
padded　doors　had　closed　between　him　and　the　street　
outside。　A　fine　mist；　the　etherealized　essence　of　the　fog；　
hung　visibly　in　the　wide　and　rather　empty　space　of　the　
drawingroom；　all　silver　where　the　candles　were　grouped　
on　the　teatable；　and　ruddy　again　in　the　firelight。　With　
the　omnibuses　and　cabs　still　running　in　his　head；　and　his　
body　still　tingling　with　his　quick　walk　along　the　streets　
and　in　and　out　of　traffic　and　footpassengers；　this　drawing
room　seemed　very　remote　and　still；　and　the　faces　of　
the　elderly　people　were　mellowed；　at　some　distance　from　
each　other；　and　had　a　bloom　on　them　owing　to　the　fact　
that　the　air　in　the　drawingroom　was　thickened　by　blue　
grains　of　mist。　Mr。　Denham　had　e　in　as　Mr。　Fortescue；　
the　eminent　novelist；　reached　the　middle　of　a　very　long　

sentence。　He　kept　this　suspended　while　the　newer　
sat　down；　and　Mrs。　Hilbery　deftly　joined　the　severed　parts　
by　leaning　towards　him　and　remarking：　

“Now；　what　would　you　do　if　you　were　married　to　an　
engineer；　and　had　to　live　in　Manchester；　Mr。　Denham？”　

“Surely　she　could　learn　Persian；”　broke　in　a　thin；　elderly　
gentleman。　“Is　there　no　retired　schoolmaster　or　man　
of　letters　in　Manchester　with　whom　she　could　read　Persian？”　


“A　cousin　of　ours　has　married　and　gone　to　live　in　
Manchester；”　Katharine　explained。　Mr。　Denham　muttered　
something；　which　was　indeed　all　that　was　required　of　
him；　and　the　novelist　went　on　where　he　had　left　off。　
Privately；　Mr。　Denham　cursed　himself　very　sharply　for　
having　exchanged　the　freedom　of　the　street　for　this　sophisticated　
drawingroom；　where；　among　other　
disagreeables；　he　certainly　would　not　appear　at　his　best。　
He　glanced　round　him；　and　saw　that；　save　for　Katharine；　
they　were　all　over　forty；　the　only　consolation　being　that　
Mr。　Fortescue　was　a　considerable　celebrity；　so　that　tomorrow　
one　might　be　glad　to　have　met　him。　

4　



Virginia　Woolf　

“Have　you　ever　been　to　Manchester？”　he　asked　
Katharine。　

“Never；”　she　replied。　

“Why　do　you　object　to　it；　then？”　

Katharine　stirred　her　tea；　and　seemed　to　speculate；　so　
Denham　thought；　upon　the　duty　of　filling　somebody　else’s　
cup；　but　she　was　really　wondering　how　she　was　going　to　
keep　this　strange　young　man　in　harmony　with　the　rest。　
She　observed　that　he　was　pressing　his　teacup；　so　
that　there　was　danger　lest　the　thin　china　might　cave　
inwards。　She　could　see　that　he　was　nervous；　one　would　
expect　a　bony　young　man　with　his　face　slightly　reddened　
by　the　wind；　and　his　hair　not　altogether　smooth；　to　be　
nervous　in　such　a　party。　Further；　he　probably　disliked　this　
kind　of　thing；　and　had　e　out　of　curiosity；　or　because　
her　father　had　invited　him—anyhow；　he　would　not　be　
easily　bined　with　the　rest。　

“I　should　think　there　would　be　no　one　to　talk　to　in　
Manchester；”　she　replied　at　random。　Mr。　Fortescue　had　
been　observing　her　for　a　moment　or　two；　as　novelists　are　
inclined　to　observe；　and　at　this　remark　he　smiled；　and　

made　it　the　text　for　a　little　further　speculation。　

“In　spite　of　a　slight　tendency　to　exaggeration；　Katharine　
decidedly　hits　the　mark；”　he　said；　and　lying　back　in　his　
chair；　with　his　opaque　contemplative　eyes　fixed　on　the　
ceiling；　and　the　tips　of　his　fingers　pressed　together；　he　
depicted；　first　the　horrors　of　the　streets　of　Manchester；　
and　then　the　bare；　immense　moors　on　the　outskirts　of　the　
town；　and　then　the　scrubby　little　house　in　which　the　girl　
would　live；　and　then　the　professors　and　the　miserable　young　
students　devoted　to　the　more　strenuous　works　of　our　
younger　dramatists；　who　would　visit　her；　and　how　her　appearance　
would　change　by　degrees；　and　how　she　would　fly　
to　London；　and　how　Katharine　would　have　to　lead　her　about；　
as　one　leads　an　eager　dog　on　a　chain；　past　rows　of　clamorous　
butchers’　shops；　poor　dear　creature。　

“Oh；　Mr。　Fortescue；”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Hilbery；　as　he　finished；　
“I　had　just　written　to　say　how　I　envied　her！　I　was　
thinking　of　the　big　gardens　and　the　dear　old　ladies　in　
mittens；　who　read　nothing　but　the　“Spectator；”　and　snuff　
the　candles。　Have　they　ALL　disappeared？　I　told　her　she　
would　find　the　nice　things　of　London　without　the　horrid　

5　



Night　and　Day　

streets　that　depress　one　so。”　

“There　is　the　University；”　said　the　thin　gentleman；　who　
had　previously　insisted　upon　the　existence　of　people　knowing　
Persian。　

“I　know　there　are　moors　there；　because　I　read　about　
them　in　a　book　the　other　day；”　said　Katharine。　

“I　am　grieved　and　amazed　at　the　ignorance　of　my　family；”　
Mr。　Hilbery　remarked。　He　was　an　elderly　man；　with　a　
pair　of　oval；　hazel　eyes　which　were　rather　bright　for　his　
time　of　life；　and　relieved　the　heaviness　of　his　face。　He　
played　constantly　with　a　little　green　stone　attached　to　
his　watchchain；　thus　displaying　long　and　very　sensitive　
fingers；　and　had　a　habit　of　moving　his　head　hither　and　
thither　very　quickly　without　altering　the　position　of　his　
large　and　rather　corpulent　body；　so　that　he　seemed　to　be　
providing　himself　incessantly　with　food　for　amusement　
and　reflection　with　the　least　possible　expenditure　of　energy。　
One　might　suppose　that　he　had　passed　the　time　of　
life　when　his　ambitions　were　personal；　or　that　he　had　
gratified　them　as　far　as　he　was　likely　to　do；　and　now　
employed　his　considerable　acuteness　rather　to　observe　

and　reflect　than　to　attain　any　result。　

Katharine；　so　Denham　decided；　while　Mr。　Fortescue　built　
up　another　rounded　structure　of　words；　had　a　likeness　to　
each　of　her　parents；　but　these　elements　were　rather　oddly　
blended。　She　had　the　quick；　impulsive　movements　of　her　
mother；　the　lips　parting　often　to　speak；　and　closing　again；　
and　the　dark　oval　eyes　of　her　father　brimming　with　light　
upon　a　basis　of　sadness；　or；　since　she　was　too　young　to　
have　acquired　a　sorrowful　point　of　view；　one　might　say　
that　the　basis　was　not　sadness　so　much　as　a　spirit　given　
to　contemplation　and　selfcontrol。　Judging　by　her　hair；　
her　coloring；　and　the　shape　of　her　features；　she　was　striking；　
if　not　actually　beautiful。　Decision　and　posure　
stamped　her；　a　bination　of　qualities　that　produced　a　
very　marked　character；　and　one　that　was　not　calculated　
to　put　a　young　man；　who　scarcely　knew　her；　at　his　ease。　
For　the　rest；　she　was　tall；　her　dress　was　of　some　quiet　
color；　with　old　yellowtinted　lace　for　ornament；　to　which　
the　spark　of　an　ancient　jewel　gave　its　one　red　gleam。　
Denham　noticed　that；　although　silent；　she　kept　sufficient　
control　of　the　situation　to　answer　immediately　her　

6　



Virginia　Woolf　

mother　appealed　to　her　for　help；　and　yet　it　was　obvious　to　
him　that　she　attended　only　with　the　surface　skin　of　her　
mind。　It　struck　him　that　her　position　at　the　teatable；　among　
all　these　elderly　people；　was　not　without　its　difficulties；　
and　he　checked　his　inclination　to　find　her；　or　her　attitude；　
generally　antipathetic　to　him。　The　talk　had　passed　over　
Manchester；　after　dealing　with　it　very　generously。　

“Would　it　be　the　Battle　of　Trafalgar　or　the　Spanish　Armada；　
Katharine？”　her　mother　demanded。　

“Trafalgar；　mother。”　

“Trafalgar；　of　course！　How　stupid　of　me！　Another　cup　of　
tea；　with　a　thin　slice　of　lemon　in　it；　and　then；　dear　Mr。　
Fortescue；　please　explain　my　absurd　little　puzzle。　One　
can’t　help　believing　gentlemen　with　Roman　noses；　even　
if　one　meets　them　in　omnibuses。”　

Mr。　Hilbery　here　interposed　so　far　as　Denham　was　concerned；　
and　talked　a　great　deal　of　sense　about　the　solicitors’　
profession；　and　the　changes　which　he　had　seen　in　
his　lifetime。　Indeed；　Denham　properly　fell　to　his　lot；　owing　
to　the　fact　that　an　article　by　Denham　upon　some　
legal　matter；　published　by　Mr。　Hilbery　in　his　Review；　had　

brought　them　acquainted。　But　when　a　moment　later　Mrs。　
Sutton　Bailey　was　announced；　he　turned　to　her；　and　Mr。　
Denham　found　himself　sitting　silent；　rejecting　possible　
things　to　say；　beside　Katharine；　who　was　silent　too。　Being　
much　about　the　same　age　and　both　under　thirty；　they　
were　prohibited　from　the　use　of　a　great　many　convenient　
phrases　which　launch　conversation　into　smooth　waters。　
They　were　further　silenced　by　Katharine’s　rather　malicious　
determination　not　to　help　this　young　man；　in　whose　
upright　and　resolute　bearing　she　detected　something　
hostile　to　her　surroundings；　by　any　of　the　usual　feminine　
amenities。　They　therefore　sat　silent；　Denham　controlling　
his　desire　to　say　something　abrupt　and　explosive；　which　
should　shock　her　into　life。　But　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　immediately　
sensitive　to　any　silence　in　the　drawingroom；　as　of　
a　dumb　note　in　a　sonorous　scale；　and　leaning　across　the　
table　she　observed；　in　the　curiously　tentative　detached　
manner　which　always　gave　her　phrases　the　likeness　of　
butterflies　flaunting　from　one　sunny　spot　to　another；　
“D’you　know；　Mr。　Denham；　you　remind　me　so　much　of　
dear　Mr。　Ruskin…　。　Is　it　his　tie；　Katharine；　or　his　hair；　or　

7　



Night　and　Day　

the　way　he　sits　in　his　chair？　Do　tell　me；　Mr。　Denham；　are　
you　an　admirer　of　Ruskin？　Some　one；　the　other　day；　said　
to　me；　‘Oh；　no；　we　don’t　read　Ruskin；　Mrs。　Hilbery。’　What　
do　you　read；　I　wonder？—for　you　can’t　spend　all　your　time　
going　up　in　aeroplanes　and　burrowing　into　the　bowels　of　
the　earth。”　

She　looked　benevolently　at　Denham；　who　said　nothing　
articulate；　and　then　at　Katharine；　who　smiled　but　said　
nothing　either；　upon　which　Mrs。　Hilbery　seemed　possessed　
by　a　brilliant　idea；　and　exclaimed：　

“I’m　sure　Mr。　Denham　would　like　to　see　our　things；　
Katharine。　I’m　sure　he’s　not　like　that　dreadful　young　man；　
Mr。　Ponting；　who　told　me　that　he　considered　it　our　duty　
to　live　exclusively　in　the　present。　After　all；　what　IS　the　
present？　Half　of　it’s　the　past；　and　the　better　half；　too；　I　
should　say；”　she　added；　turning　to　Mr。　Fortescue。　

Denham　rose；　half　meaning　to　go；　and　thinking　that　he　
had　seen　all　that　there　was　to　see；　but　Katharine　rose　at　
the　same　moment；　and　saying；　“Perhaps　you　would　like　
to　see　the　pictures；”　led　the　way　across　the　drawing
room　to　a　smaller　room　opening　out　of　it。　

The　smaller　room　was　something　like　a　chapel　in　a　cathedral；　
or　a　grotto　in　a　cave；　for　the　booming　sound　of　
the　traffic　in　the　distance　suggested　the　soft　surge　of　waters；　
and　the　oval　mirrors；　with　their　silver　surface；　were　
like　deep　pools　trembling　beneath　starlight。　But　the　parison　
to　a　religious　temple　of　some　kind　was　the　more　
apt　of　the　two；　for　the　little　room　was　crowded　with　relics。　

As　Katharine　touched　different　spots；　lights　sprang　here　
and　there；　and　revealed　a　square　mass　of　redandgold　
books；　and　then　a　long　skirt　in　blueandwhite　paint　lustrous　
behind　glass；　and　then　a　mahogany　writingtable；　
with　its　orderly　equipment；　and；　finally；　a　picture　above　
the　table；　to　which　special　illumination　was　accorded。　
When　Katharine　had　touched　these　last　lights；　she　stood　
back；　as　much　as　to　say；　“There！”　Denham　found　himself　
looked　down　upon　by　the　eyes　of　the　great　poet；　Richard　
Alardyce；　and　suffered　a　little　shock　which　would　have　
led　him；　had　he　been　wearing　a　hat；　to　remove　it。　The　
eyes　looked　at　him　out　of　the　mellow　pinks　and　yellows　
of　the　paint　with　divine　friendliness；　which　embraced　him；　
and　passed　on　to　contemplate　the　entire　world。　The　paint　

8　



Virginia　Woolf　

had　so　faded　that　very　little　but　the　beautiful　large　eyes　
were　left；　dark　in　the　surrounding　dimness。　

Katharine　waited　as　though　for　him　to　receive　a　full　
impression；　and　then　she　said：　

“This　is　his　writingtable。　He　used　this　pen；”　and　she　
lifted　a　quill　pen　and　laid　it　down　again。　The　writing
table　was　splashed　with　old　ink；　and　the　pen　disheveled　
in　service。　There　lay　the　gigantic　goldrimmed　spectacles；　
ready　to　his　hand；　and　beneath　the