[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第50章

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a　breach—their　mon　belief　in　the　superiority　of　their　
own　family　to　all　others。　Henry　was　the　eldest　of　the　
younger　group；　and　their　leader；　he　bought　strange　books　
and　joined　odd　societies；　he　went　without　a　tie　for　a　
whole　year；　and　had　six　shirts　made　of　black　flannel。　He　
had　long　refused　to　take　a　seat　either　in　a　shipping　office　

or　in　a　teamerchant’s　warehouse；　and　persisted；　in　spite　
of　the　disapproval　of　uncles　and　aunts；　in　practicing　both　
violin　and　piano；　with　the　result　that　he　could　not　perform　
professionally　upon　either。　Indeed；　for　thirtytwo　
years　of　life　he　had　nothing　more　substantial　to　show　
than　a　manuscript　book　containing　the　score　of　half　an　
opera。　In　this　protest　of　his；　Katharine　had　always　given　
him　her　support；　and　as　she　was　generally　held　to　be　an　
extremely　sensible　person；　who　dressed　too　well　to　be　
eccentric；　he　had　found　her　support　of　some　use。　Indeed；　
when　she　came　down　at　Christmas　she　usually　spent　a　
great　part　of　her　time　in　private　conferences　with　Henry　
and　with　Cassandra；　the　youngest　girl；　to　whom　the　silkworms　
belonged。　With　the　younger　section　she　had　a　great　
reputation　for　mon　sense；　and　for　something　that　
they　despised　but　inwardly　respected　and　called　knowledge　
of　the　world—that　is　to　say；　of　the　way　in　which　
respectable　elderly　people；　going　to　their　clubs　and　dining　
out　with　ministers；　think　and　behave。　She　had　more　
than　once　played　the　part　of　ambassador　between　Lady　
Otway　and　her　children。　That　poor　lady；　for　instance；　con


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Virginia　Woolf　

sulted　her　for　advice　when；　one　day；　she　opened　
Cassandra’s　bedroom　door　on　a　mission　of　discovery；　and　
found　the　ceiling　hung　with　mulberryleaves；　the　windows　
blocked　with　cages；　and　the　tables　stacked　with　
homemade　machines　for　the　manufacture　of　silk　dresses。　

“I　wish　you　could　help　her　to　take　an　interest　in　something　
that　other　people　are　interested　in；　Katharine；”　she　
observed；　rather　plaintively；　detailing　her　grievances。　“It’s　
all　Henry’s　doing；　you　know；　giving　up　her　parties　and　
taking　to　these　nasty　insects。　It　doesn’t　follow　that　if　a　
man　can　do　a　thing　a　woman　may　too。”　

The　morning　was　sufficiently　bright　to　make　the　chairs　
and　sofas　in　Lady　Otway’s　private　sittingroom　appear　
more　than　usually　shabby；　and　the　gallant　gentlemen；　
her　brothers　and　cousins；　who　had　defended　the　Empire　
and　left　their　bones　on　many　frontiers；　looked　at　the　
world　through　a　film　of　yellow　which　the　morning　light　
seemed　to　have　drawn　across　their　photographs。　Lady　
Otway　sighed；　it　may　be　at　the　faded　relics；　and　turned；　
with　resignation；　to　her　balls　of　wool；　which；　curiously　
and　characteristically；　were　not　an　ivorywhite；　but　rather　

a　tarnished　yellowwhite。　She　had　called　her　niece　in　for　
a　little　chat。　She　had　always　trusted　her；　and　now　more　
than　ever；　since　her　engagement　to　Rodney；　which　seemed　
to　Lady　Otway　extremely　suitable；　and　just　what　one　would　
wish　for　one’s　own　daughter。　Katharine　unwittingly　increased　
her　reputation　for　wisdom　by　asking　to　be　given　
knittingneedles　too。　

“It’s　so　very　pleasant；”　said　Lady　Otway；　“to　knit　while　
one’s　talking。　And　now；　my　dear　Katharine；　tell　me　about　
your　plans。”　

The　emotions　of　the　night　before；　which　she　had　suppressed　
in　such　a　way　as　to　keep　her　awake　till　dawn；　had　
left　Katharine　a　little　jaded；　and　thus　more　matteroffact　
than　usual。　She　was　quite　ready　to　discuss　her　plans—　
houses　and　rents；　servants　and　economy—without　feeling　
that　they　concerned　her　very　much。　As　she　spoke；　knitting　
methodically　meanwhile；　Lady　Otway　noted；　with　approval；　
the　upright；　responsible　bearing　of　her　niece；　to　whom　the　
prospect　of　marriage　had　brought　some　gravity　most　being　
in　a　bride；　and　yet；　in　these　days；　most　rare。　Yes；　
Katharine’s　engagement　had　changed　her　a　little。　

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Night　and　Day　

“What　a　perfect　daughter；　or　daughterinlaw！”　she　
thought　to　herself；　and　could　not　help　contrasting　her　
with　Cassandra；　surrounded　by　innumerable　silkworms　in　
her　bedroom。　

“Yes；”　she　continued；　glancing　at　Katharine；　with　the　
round；　greenish　eyes　which　were　as　inexpressive　as　moist　
marbles；　“Katharine　is　like　the　girls　of　my　youth。　We　took　
the　serious　things　of　life　seriously。”　But　just　as　she　was　
deriving　satisfaction　from　this　thought；　and　was　producing　
some　of　the　hoarded　wisdom　which　none　of　her　own　
daughters；　alas！　seemed　now　to　need；　the　door　opened；　
and　Mrs。　Hilbery　came　in；　or　rather；　did　not　e　in；　but　
stood　in　the　doorway　and　smiled；　having　evidently　mistaken　
the　room。　

“I　never　shall　know　my　way　about　this　house！”　she　exclaimed。　
“I’m　on　my　way　to　the　library；　and　I　don’t　want　
to　interrupt。　You　and　Katharine　were　having　a　little　chat？”　

The　presence　of　her　sisterinlaw　made　Lady　Otway　slightly　
uneasy。　How　could　she　go　on　with　what　she　was　saying　in　
Maggie’s　presence？　for　she　was　saying　something　that　she　
had　never　said；　all　these　years；　to　Maggie　herself。　

“I　was　telling　Katharine　a　few　little　monplaces　about　
marriage；”　she　said；　with　a　little　laugh。　“Are　none　of　my　
children　looking　after　you；　Maggie？”　

“Marriage；”　said　Mrs。　Hilbery；　ing　into　the　room；　
and　nodding　her　head　once　or　twice；　“I　always　say　marriage　
is　a　school。　And　you　don’t　get　the　prizes　unless　you　
go　to　school。　Charlotte　has　won　all　the　prizes；”　she　added；　
giving　her　sisterinlaw　a　little　pat；　which　made　Lady　
Otway　more　unfortable　still。　She　half　laughed；　muttered　
something；　and　ended　on　a　sigh。　

“Aunt　Charlotte　was　saying　that　it’s　no　good　being　married　
unless　you　submit　to　your　husband；”　said　Katharine；　
framing　her　aunt’s　words　into　a　far　more　definite　shape　
than　they　had　really　worn；　and　when　she　spoke　thus　she　
did　not　appear　at　all　oldfashioned。　Lady　Otway　looked　at　
her　and　paused　for　a　moment。　

“Well；　I　really　don’t　advise　a　woman　who　wants　to　have　
things　her　own　way　to　get　married；”　she　said；　beginning　
a　fresh　row　rather　elaborately。　

Mrs。　Hilbery　knew　something　of　the　circumstances　which；　
as　she　thought；　had　inspired　this　remark。　In　a　moment　

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Virginia　Woolf　

her　face　was　clouded　with　sympathy　which　she　did　not　
quite　know　how　to　express。　

“What　a　shame　it　was！”　she　exclaimed；　forgetting　that　
her　train　of　thought　might　not　be　obvious　to　her　listeners。　
“But；　Charlotte；　it　would　have　been　much　worse　if　Frank　
had　disgraced　himself　in　any　way。　And　it　isn’t　what　our　
husbands　get；　but　what　they　are。　I　used　to　dream　of　white　
horses　and　palanquins；　too；　but　still；　I　like　the　inkpots　
best。　And　who　knows？”　she　concluded；　looking　at　Katharine；　
“your　father　may　be　made　a　baro　tomorrow。”　

Lady　Otway；　who　was　Mr。　Hilbery’s　sister；　knew　quite　
well　that；　in　private；　the　Hilberys　called　Sir　Francis　“that　
old　Turk；”　and　though　she　did　not　follow　the　drift　of　Mrs。　
Hilbery’s　remarks；　she　knew　what　prompted　them。　

“But　if　you　can　give　way　to　your　husband；”　she　said；　
speaking　to　Katharine；　as　if　there　were　a　separate　understanding　
between　them；　“a　happy　marriage　is　the　happiest　
thing　in　the　world。”　

“Yes；”　said　Katharine；　“but—”　She　did　not　mean　to　finish　
her　sentence；　she　merely　wished　to　induce　her　mother　
and　her　aunt　to　go　on　talking　about　marriage；　for　she　was　

in　the　mood　to　feel　that　other　people　could　help　her　if　
they　would。　She　went　on　knitting；　but　her　fingers　worked　
with　a　decision　that　was　oddly　unlike　the　smooth　and　
contemplative　sweep　of　Lady　Otway’s　plump　hand。　Now　
and　then　she　looked　swiftly　at　her　mother；　then　at　her　
aunt。　Mrs。　Hilbery　held　a　book　in　her　hand；　and　was　on　
her　way；　as　Katharine　guessed；　to　the　library；　where　another　
paragraph　was　to　be　added　to　that　varied　assortment　
of　paragraphs；　the　Life　of　Richard　Alardyce。　Normally；　
Katharine　would　have　hurried　her　mother　downstairs；　
and　seen　that　no　excuse　for　distraction　came　her　
way。　Her　attitude　towards　the　poet’s　life；　however；　had　
changed　with　other　changes；　and　she　was　content　to　forget　
all　about　her　scheme　of　hours。　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　secretly　
delighted。　Her　relief　at　finding　herself　ex