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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第51部分


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all about her scheme of hours。 Mrs。 Hilbery was secretly 
delighted。 Her relief at finding herself excused 
manifested itself in a series of sidelong glances of sly 
humor in her daughter’s direction; and the indulgence 
put her in the best of spirits。 Was she to be allowed merely 
to sit and talk? It was so much pleasanter to sit in a nice 
room filled with all sorts of interesting odds and ends 
which she hadn’t looked at for a year; at least; than to 

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Night and Day 

seek out one date which contradicted another in a dictionary。 


“We’ve all had perfect husbands;” she concluded; generously 
forgiving Sir Francis all his faults in a lump。 “Not 
that I think a bad temper is really a fault in a man。 I 
don’t mean a bad temper;” she corrected herself; with a 
glance obviously in the direction of Sir Francis。 “I should 
say a quick; impatient temper。 Most; in fact ALL great 
men have had bad tempers—except your grandfather; 
Katharine;” and here she sighed; and suggested that; 
perhaps; she ought to go down to the library。 

“But in the ordinary marriage; is it necessary to give 
way to one’s husband?” said Katharine; taking no notice 
of her mother’s suggestion; blind even to the depression 
which had now taken possession of her at the thought of 
her own inevitable death。 

“I should say yes; certainly;” said Lady Otway; with a 
decision most unusual for her。 

“Then one ought to make up one’s mind to that before 
one is married;” Katharine mused; seeming to address 
herself。 

Mrs。 Hilbery was not much interested in these remarks; 
which seemed to have a melancholy tendency; and to 
revive her spirits she had recourse to an infallible rem
edy—she looked out of the window。 

“Do look at that lovely little blue bird!” she exclaimed; 
and her eye looked with extreme pleasure at the soft sky。 
at the trees; at the green fields visible behind those trees; 
and at the leafless branches which surrounded the body 
of the small blue tit。 Her sympathy with nature was exquisite。 


“Most women know by instinct whether they can give it 
or not;” Lady Otway slipped in quickly; in rather a low 
voice; as if she wanted to get this said while her sisterin
law’s attention was diverted。 “And if not—well then; 
my advice would be—don’t marry。” 

“Oh; but marriage is the happiest life for a woman;” 
said Mrs。 Hilbery; catching the word marriage; as she 
brought her eyes back to the room again。 Then she turned 
her mind to what she had said。 

“It’s the most interesting life;” she corrected herself。 
She looked at her daughter with a look of vague alarm。 It 

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Virginia Woolf 

was the kind of maternal scrutiny which suggests that; in 
looking at her daughter a mother is really looking at herself。 
She was not altogether satisfied; but she purposely 
made no attempt to break down the reserve which; as a 
matter of fact; was a quality she particularly admired and 
depended upon in her daughter。 But when her mother 
said that marriage was the most interesting life; Katharine 
felt; as she was apt to do suddenly; for no definite reason; 
that they understood each other; in spite of differing 
in every possible way。 Yet the wisdom of the old seems 
to apply more to feelings which we have in mon with 
the rest of the human race than to our feelings as individuals; 
and Katharine knew that only some one of her 
own age could follow her meaning。 Both these elderly 
women seemed to her to have been content with so little 
happiness; and at the moment she had not sufficient force 
to feel certain that their version of marriage was the 
wrong one。 In London; certainly; this temperate attitude 
toward her own marriage had seemed to her just。 Why 
had she now changed? Why did it now depress her? It 
never occurred to her that her own conduct could be any


thing of a puzzle to her mother; or that elder people are 
as much affected by the young as the young are by them。 
And yet it was true that love—passion —whatever one 
chose to call it; had played far less part in Mrs。 Hilbery’s 
life than might have seemed likely; judging from her enthusiastic 
and imaginative temperament。 She had always 
been more interested by other things。 Lady Otway; strange 
though it seemed; guessed more accurately at Katharine’s 
state of mind than her mother did。 

“Why don’t we all live in the country?” exclaimed Mrs。 
Hilbery; once more looking out of the window。 “I’m sure 
one would think such beautiful things if one lived in the 
country。 No horrid slum houses to depress one; no trams 
or motorcars; and the people all looking so plump and 
cheerful。 Isn’t there some little cottage near you; Charlotte; 
which would do for us; with a spare room; perhaps; 
in case we asked a friend down? And we should save so 
much money that we should be able to travel—” 

“Yes。 You would find it very nice for a week or two; no 
doubt;” said Lady Otway。 “But what hour would you like the 
carriage this morning?” she continued; touching the bell。 

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Night and Day 

“Katharine shall decide;” said Mrs。 Hilbery; feeling herself 
unable to prefer one hour to another。 “And I was just 
going to tell you; Katharine; how; when I woke this morning; 
everything seemed so clear in my head that if I’d 
had a pencil I believe I could have written quite a long 
chapter。 When we’re out on our drive I shall find us a 
house。 A few trees round it; and a little garden; a pond 
with a Chinese duck; a study for your father; a study for 
me; and a sitting room for Katharine; because then she’ll 
be a married lady。” 

At this Katharine shivered a little; drew up to the fire; 
and warmed her hands by spreading them over the topmost 
peak of the coal。 She wished to bring the talk back 
to marriage again; in order to hear Aunt Charlotte’s views; 
but she did not know how to do this。 

“Let me look at your engagementring; Aunt Charlotte;” 
she said; noticing her own。 

She took the cluster of green stones and turned it round 
and round; but she did not know what to say next。 

“That poor old ring was a sad disappointment to me 
when I first had it;” Lady Otway mused。 “I’d set my heart 

on a diamond ring; but I never liked to tell Frank; naturally。 
He bought it at Simla。” 

Katharine turned the ring round once more; and gave it 
back to her aunt without speaking。 And while she turned 
it round her lips set themselves firmly together; and it 
seemed to her that she could satisfy William as these 
women had satisfied their husbands; she could pretend 
to like emeralds when she preferred diamonds。 Having 
replaced her ring; Lady Otway remarked that it was chilly; 
though not more so than one must expect at this time of 
year。 Indeed; one ought to be thankful to see the sun at 
all; and she advised them both to dress warmly for their 
drive。 Her aunt’s stock of monplaces; Katharine sometimes 
suspected; had been laid in on purpose to fill silences 
with; and had little to do with her private thoughts。 
But at this moment they seemed terribly in keeping with 
her own conclusions; so that she took up her knitting 
again and listened; chiefly with a view to confirming 
herself in the belief that to be engaged to marry some 
one with whom you are not in love is an inevitable step 
in a world where the existence of passion is only a 

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Virginia Woolf 

traveller’s story brought from the heart of deep forests 
and told so rarely that wise people doubt whether the 
story can be true。 She did her best to listen to her mother 
asking for news of John; and to her aunt replying with 
the authentic history of Hilda’s engagement to an officer 
in the Indian Army; but she cast her mind alternately 
towards forest paths and starry blossoms; and towards 
pages of neatly written mathematical signs。 When her 
mind took this turn her marriage seemed no more than 
an archway through which it was necessary to pass in 
order to have her desire。 At such times the current of her 
nature ran in its deep narrow channel with great force 
and with an alarming lack of co

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