[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第102章

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“I　love　him？”　she　repeated。　He　nodded。　She　searched　
his　face；　as　if　for　further　confirmation　of　his　words；　and；　
as　he　remained　silent　and　expectant；　turned　away　once　
more　and　continued　her　thoughts。　He　observed　her　closely；　
but　without　stirring；　as　if　he　gave　her　time　to　make　up　
her　mind　to　fulfil　her　obvious　duty。　The　strains　of　Mozart　
reached　them　from　the　room　above。　

“Now；”　she　said　suddenly；　with　a　sort　of　desperation；　
rising　from　her　chair　and　seeming　to　mand　Rodney　to　
fulfil　his　part。　He　drew　the　curtain　instantly；　and　she　
made　no　attempt　to　stop　him。　Their　eyes　at　once　sought　
the　same　spot　beneath　the　lamppost。　

“He’s　not　there！”　she　exclaimed。　

No　one　was　there。　William　threw　the　window　up　and　looked　

out。　The　wind　rushed　into　the　room；　together　with　the　
sound　of　distant　wheels；　footsteps　hurrying　along　the　pavement；　
and　the　cries　of　sirens　hooting　down　the　river。　

“Denham！”　William　cried。　

“Ralph！”　said　Katharine；　but　she　spoke　scarcely　louder　
than　she　might　have　spoken　to　some　one　in　the　same　
room。　With　their　eyes　fixed　upon　the　opposite　side　of　the　
road；　they　did　not　notice　a　figure　close　to　the　railing　
which　divided　the　garden　from　the　street。　But　Denham　
had　crossed　the　road　and　was　standing　there。　They　were　
startled　by　his　voice　close　at　hand。　

“Rodney！”　

“There　you　are！　e　in；　Denham。”　Rodney　went　to　the　
front　door　and　opened　it。　“Here　he　is；”　he　said；　bringing　
Ralph　with　him　into　the　diningroom　where　Katharine　
stood；　with　her　back　to　the　open　window。　Their　eyes　met　
for　a　second。　Denham　looked　half　dazed　by　the　strong　
light；　and；　buttoned　in　his　overcoat；　with　his　hair　ruffled　
across　his　forehead　by　the　wind；　he　seemed　like　somebody　
rescued　from　an　open　boat　out　at　sea。　William　
promptly　shut　the　window　and　drew　the　curtains。　He　acted　

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with　a　cheerful　decision　as　if　he　were　master　of　the　situation；　
and　knew　exactly　what　he　meant　to　do。　

“You’re　the　first　to　hear　the　news；　Denham；”　he　said。　
“Katharine　isn’t　going　to　marry　me；　after　all。”　

“Where　shall　I　put—”　Ralph　began　vaguely；　holding　
out　his　hat　and　glancing　about　him；　he　balanced　it　carefully　
against　a　silver　bowl　that　stood　upon　the　sideboard。　
He　then　sat　himself　down　rather　heavily　at　the　head　of　
the　oval　dinnertable。　Rodney　stood　on　one　side　of　him　
and　Katharine　on　the　other。　He　appeared　to　be　presiding　
over　some　meeting　from　which　most　of　the　members　were　
absent。　Meanwhile；　he　waited；　and　his　eyes　rested　upon　
the　glow　of　the　beautifully　polished　mahogany　table。　

“William　is　engaged　to　Cassandra；”　said　Katharine　briefly。　

At　that　Denham　looked　up　quickly　at　Rodney。　Rodney’s　
expression　changed。　He　lost　his　selfpossession。　He　smiled　
a　little　nervously；　and　then　his　attention　seemed　to　be　
caught　by　a　fragment　of　melody　from　the　floor　above。　He　
seemed　for　a　moment　to　forget　the　presence　of　the　others。　
He　glanced　towards　the　door。　

“I　congratulate　you；”　said　Denham。　

“Yes；　yes。　We’re　all　mad—quite　out　of　our　minds；　
Denham；”　he　said。　“It’s　partly　Katharine’s　doing—partly　
mine。”　He　looked　oddly　round　the　room　as　if　he　wished　to　
make　sure　that　the　scene　in　which　he　played　a　part　had　
some　real　existence。　“Quite　mad；”　he　repeated。　“Even　
Katharine—”　His　gaze　rested　upon　her　finally；　as　if　she；　
too；　had　changed　from　his　old　view　of　her。　He　smiled　at　
her　as　if　to　encourage　her。　“Katharine　shall　explain；”　he　
said；　and　giving　a　little　nod　to　Denham；　he　left　the　room。　

Katharine　sat　down　at　once；　and　leant　her　chin　upon　
her　hands。　So　long　as　Rodney　was　in　the　room　the　proceedings　
of　the　evening　had　seemed　to　be　in　his　charge；　
and　had　been　marked　by　a　certain　unreality。　Now　that　
she　was　alone　with　Ralph　she　felt　at　once　that　a　constraint　
had　been　taken　from　them　both。　She　felt　that　
they　were　alone　at　the　bottom　of　the　house；　which　rose；　
story　upon　story；　upon　the　top　of　them。　

“Why　were　you　waiting　out　there？”　she　asked。　

“For　the　chance　of　seeing　you；”　he　replied。　

“You　would　have　waited　all　night　if　it　hadn’t　been　for　
William。　It’s　windy　too。　You　must　have　been　cold。　What　

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could　you　see？　Nothing　but　our　windows。”　

“It　was　worth　it。　I　heard　you　call　me。”　

“I　called　you？”　She　had　called　unconsciously。　

“They　were　engaged　this　morning；”　she　told　him；　after　
a　pause。　

“You’re　glad？”　he　asked。　

She　bent　her　head。　“Yes；　yes；”　she　sighed。　“But　you　
don’t　know　how　good　he　is—what　he’s　done　for　me—”　
Ralph　made　a　sound　of　understanding。　“You　waited　there　
last　night　too？”　she　asked。　

“Yes。　I　can　wait；”　Denham　replied。　

The　words　seemed　to　fill　the　room　with　an　emotion　
which　Katharine　connected　with　the　sound　of　distant　
wheels；　the　footsteps　hurrying　along　the　pavement；　the　
cries　of　sirens　hooting　down　the　river；　the　darkness　and　
the　wind。　She　saw　the　upright　figure　standing　beneath　
the　lamppost。　

“Waiting　in　the　dark；”　she　said；　glancing　at　the　window；　
as　if　he　saw　what　she　was　seeing。　“Ah；　but　it’s　different—”　
She　broke　off。　“I’m　not　the　person　you　think　
me。　Until　you　realize　that　it’s　impossible—”　

Placing　her　elbows　on　the　table；　she　slid　her　ruby　ring　
up　and　down　her　finger　abstractedly。　She　frowned　at　the　
rows　of　leatherbound　books　opposite　her。　Ralph　looked　
keenly　at　her。　Very　pale；　but　sternly　concentrated　upon　
her　meaning；　beautiful　but　so　little　aware　of　herself　as　to　
seem　remote　from　him　also；　there　was　something　distant　
and　abstract　about　her　which　exalted　him　and　chilled　
him　at　the　same　time。　

“No；　you’re　right；”　he　said。　“I　don’t　know　you。　I’ve　never　
known　you。”　

“Yet　perhaps　you　know　me　better　than　any　one　else；”　
she　mused。　

Some　detached　instinct　made　her　aware　that　she　was　
gazing　at　a　book　which　belonged　by　rights　to　some　other　
part　of　the　house。　She　walked　over　to　the　shelf；　took　it　
down；　and　returned　to　her　seat；　placing　the　book　on　the　
table　between　them。　Ralph　opened　it　and　looked　at　the　
portrait　of　a　man　with　a　voluminous　white　shirtcollar；　
which　formed　the　frontispiece。　

“I　say　I　do　know　you；　Katharine；”　he　affirmed；　shutting　
the　book。　“It’s　only　for　moments　that　I　go　mad。”　

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“Do　you　call　two　whole　nights　a　moment？”　

“I　swear　to　you　that　now；　at　this　instant；　I　see　you　
precisely　as　you　are。　No　one　has　ever　known　you　as　I　
know　you…　。　Could　you　have　taken　down　that　book　just　
now　if　I　hadn’t　known　you？”　

“That’s　true；”　she　replied；　“but　you　can’t　think　how　I’m　
divided—how　I’m　at　my　ease　with　you；　and　how　I’m　bewildered。　
The　unreality—the　dark—the　waiting　outside　
in　the　wind—yes；　when　you　look　at　me；　not　seeing　me；　
and　I　don’t　see　you　either…　。　But　I　do　see；”　she　went　on　
quickly；　changing　her　position　and　frowning　again；　“heaps　
of　things；　only　not　you。”　

“Tell　me　what　you　see；”　he　urged。　

But　she　could　not　reduce　her　vision　to　words；　since　it　
was　no　single　shape　colored　upon　the　dark；　but　rather　a　
general　excitement；　an　atmosphere；　which；　when　she　tried　
to　visualize　it；　took　form　as　a　wind　scouring　the　flanks　of　
northern　hills　and　flashing　light　upon　cornfields　and　pools。　

“Impossible；”　she　sighed；　laughing　at　the　ridiculous　notion　
of　putting　any　part　of　this　into　words。　

“Try；　Katharine；”　Ralph　urged　her。　

“But　I　can’t—I’m　talking　a　sort　of　nonsense—the　sort　
of　nonsense　one　talks　to　oneself。”　She　was　dismayed　by　
the　expression　of　longing　and　despair　upon　his　face。　“I　
was　thinking　about　a　mountain　in　the　North　of　England；”　
she　attempted。　“It’s　too　silly—I　won’t　go　on。”　

“We　were　there　together？”　he　pressed　her。　

“No。　I　was　alone。”　She　seemed　to　be　disappointing　the　
desire　of　a　child。　His　face　fell。　

“You’re　always　alone　there？”　

“I　can’t　explain。”　She　could　not　explain　that　she　was　
essentially　alone　there。　“It’s　not　a　mountain　in　the　North　
of　England。　It’s　an　imagination—a　story　one　tells　oneself。　
You　have　yours　too？”　

“You’re　with　me　in　mine。　You’re　the　thing　I　make　up；　
you