[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第29部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


the　same　conclusion　myself。　Only　it　won’t　be　a　country　
cottage　in　my　case；　it’ll　be　America。　America！”　she　cried。　
“That’s　the　place　for　me！　They’ll　teach　me　something　about　
organizing　a　movement　there；　and　I’ll　e　back　and　show　
you　how　to　do　it。”　

If　she　meant　consciously　or　unconsciously　to　belittle　
the　seclusion　and　security　of　a　country　cottage；　she　did　
not　succeed；　for　Ralph’s　determination　was　genuine。　But　
she　made　him　visualize　her　in　her　own　character；　so　that　

190　



Virginia　Woolf　

he　looked　quickly　at　her；　as　she　walked　a　little　in　front　of　
him　across　the　plowed　field；　for　the　first　time　that　morning　
he　saw　her　independently　of　him　or　of　his　preoccupation　
with　Katharine。　He　seemed　to　see　her　marching　ahead；　
a　rather　clumsy　but　powerful　and　independent　figure；　for　
whose　courage　he　felt　the　greatest　respect。　

“Don’t　go　away；　Mary！”　he　exclaimed；　and　stopped。　

“That’s　what　you　said　before；　Ralph；”　she　returned；　without　
looking　at　him。　“You　want　to　go　away　yourself　and　you　
don’t　want　me　to　go　away。　That’s　not　very　sensible；　is　it？”　

“Mary；”　he　cried；　stung　by　the　remembrance　of　his　exacting　
and　dictatorial　ways　with　her；　“what　a　brute　I’ve　
been　to　you！”　

It　took　all　her　strength　to　keep　the　tears　from　springing；　
and　to　thrust　back　her　assurance　that　she　would　
forgive　him　till　Doomsday　if　he　chose。　She　was　preserved　
from　doing　so　only　by　a　stubborn　kind　of　respect　for　herself　
which　lay　at　the　root　of　her　nature　and　forbade　surrender；　
even　in　moments　of　almost　overwhelming　passion。　
Now；　when　all　was　tempest　and　highrunning　waves；　
she　knew　of　a　land　where　the　sun　shone　clear　upon　Ital


ian　grammars　and　files　of　docketed　papers。　Nevertheless；　
from　the　skeleton　pallor　of　that　land　and　the　rocks　that　
broke　its　surface；　she　knew　that　her　life　there　would　be　
harsh　and　lonely　almost　beyond　endurance。　She　walked　
steadily　a　little　in　front　of　him　across　the　plowed　field。　
Their　way　took　them　round　the　verge　of　a　wood　of　thin　
trees　standing　at　the　edge　of　a　steep　fold　in　the　land。　
Looking　between　the　treetrunks；　Ralph　saw　laid　out　on　
the　perfectly　flat　and　richly　green　meadow　at　the　bottom　
of　the　hill　a　small　gray　manorhouse；　with　ponds；　terraces；　
and　clipped　hedges　in　front　of　it；　a　farm　building　
or　so　at　the　side；　and　a　screen　of　firtrees　rising　behind；　
all　perfectly　sheltered　and　selfsufficient。　Behind　the　house　
the　hill　rose　again；　and　the　trees　on　the　farther　summit　
stood　upright　against　the　sky；　which　appeared　of　a　more　
intense　blue　between　their　trunks。　His　mind　at　once　was　
filled　with　a　sense　of　the　actual　presence　of　Katharine；　
the　gray　house　and　the　intense　blue　sky　gave　him　the　
feeling　of　her　presence　close　by。　He　leant　against　a　tree；　
forming　her　name　beneath　his　breath：　

“Katharine；　Katharine；”　he　said　aloud；　and　then；　look


191　



Night　and　Day　

ing　round；　saw　Mary　walking　slowly　away　from　him；　tearing　
a　long　spray　of　ivy　from　the　trees　as　she　passed　them。　
She　seemed　so　definitely　opposed　to　the　vision　he　held　
in　his　mind　that　he　returned　to　it　with　a　gesture　of　impatience。　


“Katharine；　Katharine；”　he　repeated；　and　seemed　to　himself　
to　be　with　her。　He　lost　his　sense　of　all　that　surrounded　
him；　all　substantial　things—the　hour　of　the　day；　
what　we　have　done　and　are　about　to　do；　the　presence　of　
other　people　and　the　support　we　derive　from　seeing　their　
belief　in　a　mon　reality—all　this　slipped　from　him。　So　
he　might　have　felt　if　the　earth　had　dropped　from　his　feet；　
and　the　empty　blue　had　hung　all　round　him；　and　the　air　
had　been　steeped　in　the　presence　of　one　woman。　The　
chirp　of　a　robin　on　the　bough　above　his　head　awakened　
him；　and　his　awakenment　was　acpanied　by　a　sigh。　
Here　was　the　world　in　which　he　had　lived；　here　the　plowed　
field；　the　high　road　yonder；　and　Mary；　stripping　ivy　from　
the　trees。　When　he　came　up　with　her　he　linked　his　arm　
through　hers　and　said：　

“Now；　Mary；　what’s　all　this　about　America？”　

There　was　a　brotherly　kindness　in　his　voice　which　seemed　
to　her　magnanimous；　when　she　reflected　that　she　had　
cut　short　his　explanations　and　shown　little　interest　in　his　
change　of　plan。　She　gave　him　her　reasons　for　thinking　
that　she　might　profit　by　such　a　journey；　omitting　the　one　
reason　which　had　set　all　the　rest　in　motion。　He　listened　
attentively；　and　made　no　attempt　to　dissuade　her。　In　truth；　
he　found　himself　curiously　eager　to　make　certain　of　her　
good　sense；　and　accepted　each　fresh　proof　of　it　with　satisfaction；　
as　though　it　helped　him　to　make　up　his　mind　
about　something。　She　forgot　the　pain　he　had　caused　her；　
and　in　place　of　it　she　became　conscious　of　a　steady　tide　
of　wellbeing　which　harmonized　very　aptly　with　the　tramp　
of　their　feet　upon　the　dry　road　and　the　support　of　his　
arm。　The　fort　was　the　more　glowing　in　that　it　seemed　
to　be　the　reward　of　her　determination　to　behave　to　him　
simply　and　without　attempting　to　be　other　than　she　was。　
Instead　of　making　out　an　interest　in　the　poets；　she　avoided　
them　instinctively；　and　dwelt　rather　insistently　upon　the　
practical　nature　of　her　gifts。　

In　a　practical　way　she　asked　for　particulars　of　his　cot


192　



Virginia　Woolf　

tage；　which　hardly　existed　in　his　mind；　and　corrected　his　
vagueness。　

“You　must　see　that　there’s　water；”　she　insisted；　with　an　
exaggeration　of　interest。　She　avoided　asking　him　what　
he　meant　to　do　in　this　cottage；　and；　at　last；　when　all　the　
practical　details　had　been　thrashed　out　as　much　as　possible；　
he　rewarded　her　by　a　more　intimate　statement。　

“One　of　the　rooms；”　he　said；　“must　be　my　study；　for；　
you　see；　Mary；　I’m　going　to　write　a　book。”　Here　he　withdrew　
his　arm　from　hers；　lit　his　pipe；　and　they　tramped　on　
in　a　sagacious　kind　of　radeship；　the　most　plete　
they　had　attained　in　all　their　friendship。　

“And　what’s　your　book　to　be　about？”　she　said；　as　boldly　
as　if　she　had　never　e　to　grief　with　Ralph　in　talking　
about　books。　He　told　her　unhesitatingly　that　he　meant　to　
write　the　history　of　the　English　village　from　Saxon　days　
to　the　present　time。　Some　such　plan　had　lain　as　a　seed　in　
his　mind　for　many　years；　and　now　that　he　had　decided；　in　
a　flash；　to　give　up　his　profession；　the　seed　grew　in　the　
space　of　twenty　minutes　both　tall　and　lusty。　He　was　surprised　
himself　at　the　positive　way　in　which　he　spoke。　It　

was　the　same　with　the　question　of　his　cottage。　That　had　
e　into　existence；　too；　in　an　unromantic　shape　—a　
square　white　house　standing　just　off　the　high　road；　no　
doubt；　with　a　neighbor　who　kept　a　pig　and　a　dozen　squalling　
children；　for　these　plans　were　shorn　of　all　romance　in　
his　mind；　and　the　pleasure　he　derived　from　thinking　of　
them　was　checked　directly　it　passed　a　very　sober　limit。　
So　a　sensible　man　who　has　lost　his　chance　of　some　beautiful　
inheritance　might　tread　out　the　narrow　bounds　of　
his　actual　dwellingplace；　and　assure　himself　that　life　is　
supportable　within　its　demesne；　only　one　must　grow　turnips　
and　cabbages；　not　melons　and　pomegranates。　Certainly　
Ralph　took　some　pride　in　the　resources　of　his　mind；　
and　was　insensibly　helped　to　right　himself　by　Mary’s　trust　
in　him。　She　wound　her　ivy　spray　round　her　ashplant；　and　
for　the　first　time　for　many　days；　when　alone　with　Ralph；　
set　no　spies　upon　her　motives；　sayings；　and　feelings；　but　
surrendered　herself　to　plete　happiness。　

Thus　talking；　with　easy　silences　and　some　pauses　to　
look　at　the　view　over　the　hedge　and　to　decide　upon　the　
species　of　a　little　graybrown　bird　slipping　among　the　

193　



Night　and　Day　

twigs；　they　walked　into　Lincoln；　and　after　strolling　up　
and　down　the　main　street；　decided　upon　an　inn　where　
the　rounded　window　suggested　substantial　fare；　nor　were　
they　mistaken。　For　over　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　hot　
joints；　potatoes；　greens；　and　apple　puddings　had　been　
served　to　generations　of　country　gentlemen；　and　now；　
sitting　at　a　table　in　the　hollow　of　the　bow　window；　Ralph　
and　Mary　took　their　share　of　this　perennial　feast。　Looking　
across　the　joint；　halfway　through　the　meal；　Mary　
wondered　whether　Ralph　would　ever　e　to　look　quite　
like　the　other　people　in　the　room。　Would　he　be　absorbed　
among　the　round　pink　faces；　pricked　with　little　white　
bristles；　the　calves　fitted　in　shiny　brown　leather；　the　blackand
white　check　suits；　which　were　sprinkled　about　in　the　
same　room　with　them？　She　half　hoped　so；　she　thought　
that　it　was　only　in　his　mind　that　he　was　different。　She　
did　not　wish　him　to　be　too　different　from　other　people。　
The　walk　had　given　him　a　ruddy　color；　too；　and　his　eyes　
were　lit　up　by　a　steady；　honest　light；　which　could　not　
make　the　simplest　farmer　feel　ill　at　ease；　or　suggest　to　
the　most　devout　of　clergymen　a　disposition　to　sneer　at　

his　faith。　She　loved　the　steep　cliff　of　his　forehead；　and　
pared　it　to　the　brow　of　a　young　Greek　horseman；　who　
reins　his　horse　back　so　sharply　that　it　half　falls　on　its　
haunches。　He　always　seemed　to　her　like　a　rider　on　a　spirited　
horse。　And　there　was　an　exaltation　to　her　in　being　
with　him；　because　there　was　a　risk　that　he　would　not　be　
able　to　keep　to　the　right　pace　among　other　people。　Sitting　
opposite　him　at　the　little　table　in　the　window；　she　
came　back　to　that　state　of　careless　exaltation　which　had　
overe　her　when　they　halted　by　the　gate；　but　now　it　
was　acpanied　by　a　sense　of　sanity　and　security；　for　
she　felt　that　they　had　a　feeling　in　mon　which　scarcely　
needed　embodiment　in　words。　How　silent　he　was！　leaning　
his　forehead　on　his　hand；　now　and　then；　and　again　
looking　steadily　and　gravely　at　the　backs　of　the　two　men　
at　the　next　table；　with　so　little　selfconsciousness　that　
she　could　almost　watch　his　mind　placing　one　thought　
solidly　upon　the　top　of　another；　she　thought　that　she　
could　feel　him　thinking；　through　the　shade　of　her　fingers；　
and　she　could　anticipate　the　exact　moment　when　
he　would　put　an　end　to　his　thought　and　turn　a　little　in　

194　



Virginia　Woolf　

his　chair　and　say：　

“Well；　Mary—？”　inviting　her　to　take　up　the　thread　of　
thought　where　he　had　dropped　it。　

And　at　that　very　moment　he　turned　just　so；　and　said：　

“Well；　Mary？”　with　the　curious　touch　of　diffidence　which　
she　loved　in　him。　

She　laughed；　and　she　explained　her　laugh　on　the　spur　
of　the　moment　by　the　look　of　the　people　in　the　street　
below。　There　was　a　motorcar　with　an　old　lady　swathed　in　
blue　veils；　and　a　lady’s　maid　on　the　seat　opposite；　holding　
a　King　Charles’s　spaniel；　there　was　a　countrywoman　
wheeling　a　perambulator　full　of　sticks　down　the　middle　
of　the　road；　there　was　a　bailiff　in　gaiters　discussing　the　
state　of　the　cattle　market　with　a　dissenting　minister—so　
she　defined　them。　

She　ran　over　this　list　without　any　fear　that　her　panion　
would　think　her　trivial。　Indeed；　whether　it　was　
due　to　the　warmth　of　the　room　or　to　the　good　roast　beef；　
or　whether　Ralph　had　achieved　the　process　which　is　called　
making　up　one’s　mind；　certainly　he　had　given　up　testing　
the　good　sense；　the　independent　character；　the　intelli


gence　shown　in　her　remarks。　He　had　been　building　one　of　
those　piles　of　thought；　as　ramshackle　and　fantastic　as　a　
Chinese　pagoda；　half　from　words　let　fall　by　gentlemen　in　
gaiters；　half　from　the　litter　in　his　own　mind；　about　duck　
shooting　and　legal　history；　about　the　Roman　occupation　
of　Lincoln　and　the　relations　of　country　gentlemen　with　
their　wives；　when；　from　all　this　disconnected　rambling；　
there　suddenly　formed　itself　in　his　mind　the　idea　that　he　
would　ask　Mary　to　marry　him。　The　idea　was　so　spontaneous　
that　it　seemed　to　shape　itself　of　its　own　accord　before　
his　eyes。　It　was　then　that　he　turned　round　and　made　
use　of　his　old；　instinctive　phrase：　

“Well；　Mary—？”　

As　it　presented　itself　to　him　at　first；　the　idea　was　so　
new　and　interesting　that　he　was　half　inclined　to　address　
it；　without　more　ado；　to　Mary　herself。　His　natural　instinct　
to　divide　his　thoughts　carefully　into　two　different　classes　
before　he　expressed　them　to　her　prevailed。　But　as　he　
watched　her　looking　out　of　the　window　and　describing　
the　old　lady；　the　woman　with　the　perambulator；　the　bailiff　
and　the　dissenting　minister；　his　eyes　filled　involun


195　



Night　and　Day　

tarily　with　tears。　He　would　have　liked　to　lay　his　head　on　
her　shoulder　and　sob；　while　she　parted　his　hair　with　her　
fingers　and　soothed　him　and　said：　

“There；　there。　Don’t　cry！　Tell　me　why　you’re　crying—”；　
and　they　would　clasp　each　other　tight；　and　her　arms　would　
hold　him　like　his　mother’s。　He　felt　that　he　was　very　lonely；　
and　that　he　was　afraid　of　the　other　people　in　the　room。　

“How　damnable　this　all　is！”　he　exclaimed　abruptly。　

“What　are　you　talking　about？”　she　replied；　rather　
vaguely；　still　looking　out　of　the　window。　

He　resented　this　divided　attention　more　than；　perhaps；　
he　knew；　and　he　thought　how　Mary　would　soon　be　on　her　
way　to　America。　

“Mary；”　he　said；　“I　want　to　talk　to　you。　Haven’t　we　
nearly　done？　Why　don’t　they　take　away　these　plates？”　

Mary　felt　his　agitation　without　looking　at　him；　she　felt　
convinced　that　she　knew　what　it　was　that　he　wished　to　
say　to　her。　

“They’ll　e　all　in　good　time；”　she　said；　and　felt　it　
necessary　to　display　her　extreme　calmness　by　lifting　a　
saltcellar　and　sweeping　up　a　little　heap　of　breadcrumbs。　

“I　want　to　apologize；”　Ralph　continued；　not　quite　knowing　
what　he　was　about　to　say；　but　feeling　some　curious　
instinct　which　urged　him　to　mit　himself　irrevocably；　
and　to　prevent　the　moment　of　intimacy　from　passing。　

“I　think　I’ve　treated　you　very　badly。　That　is；　I’ve　told　you　
lies。　Did　you　guess　that　I　was　lying　to　you？　Once　in　Lincoln’s　
Inn　Fields　and　again　today　on　our　walk。　I　am　a　liar；　Mary。　
Did　you　know　that？　Do　you　think　you　do　know　me？”　

“I　think　I　do；”　she　said。　

At　this　point　the　waiter　changed　their　plates。　

“It’s　true　I　don’t　want　you　to　go　to　America；”　he　said；　
looking　fixedly　at　the　tablecloth。　“In　fact；　my　feelings　
towards　you　seem　to　be　utterly　and　damnably　bad；”　he　
said　energetically；　although　forced　to　keep　his　voice　low。　

“If　I　weren’t　a　selfish　beast　I　should　tell　you　to　have　
nothing　more　to　do　with　me。　And　yet；　Mary；　in　spite　of　
the　fact　that　I　believe　what　I’m　saying；　I　also　believe　
that　it’s　good　we　should　know　each　other—the　world　
being　what　it　is；　you　see—”　and　by　a　nod　of　his　head　he　
indicated　the　other　occupants　of　the　room；　“for；　of　course；　
in　an　ideal　state　of　things；　in　a　decent　munity　even；　

196　



Virginia　Woolf　

there’s　no　doubt　you　shouldn’t　have　anything　to　do　with　
me—seriously；　that　is。”　

“You　forget　that　I’m　not　an　ideal　character；　either；”　
said　Mary；　in　the　same　low　and　very　earnest　tones；　which；　
in　spite　of　being　almost　inaudible；　surrounded　their　table　
with　an　atmosphere　of　concentration　which　was　quite　
perceptible　to　the　other　diners；　who　glanced　at　them　now　
and　then　with　a　queer　mixture　of　kindness；　amusement；　
and　curiosity。　

“I’m　much　more　selfish　than　I　let　on；　and　I’m　worldly　a　
little—more　than　you　think；　anyhow。　I　like　bossing　
things—perhaps　that’s　my　greatest　fault。　I’ve　none　of　
your　passion　for—”　here　she　hesitate