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


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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


178 



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 

180 



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

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