《[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版》

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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第137部分


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stooped to gather the papers she had let fall。 But he took 
them in his hands and; giving her by a sudden impulse 
his own unfinished dissertation; with its mystical conclusion; 
they read each other’s positions in silence。 

Katharine read his sheets to an end; Ralph followed her 
figures as far as his mathematics would let him。 They 
came to the end of their tasks at about the same moment; 
and sat for a time in silence。 

“Those were the papers you left on the seat at Kew;” 
said Ralph at length。 “You folded them so quickly that I 
couldn’t see what they were。” 

She blushed very deeply; but as she did not move or 
attempt to hide her face she had the appearance of some 
one disarmed of all defences; or Ralph likened her to a 
wild bird just settling with wings trembling to fold them


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Virginia Woolf 

selves within reach of his hand。 The moment of exposure 
had been exquisitely painful—the light shed startlingly 
vivid。 She had now to get used to the fact that some one 
shared her loneliness。 The bewilderment was half shame 
and half the prelude to profound rejoicing。 Nor was she 
unconscious that on the surface the whole thing must 
appear of the utmost absurdity。 She looked to see whether 
Ralph smiled; but found his gaze fixed on her with such 
gravity that she turned to the belief that she had mitted 
no sacrilege but enriched herself; perhaps immeasurably; 
perhaps eternally。 She hardly dared steep herself 
in the infinite bliss。 But his glance seemed to ask for 
some assurance upon another point of vital interest to 
him。 It beseeched her mutely to tell him whether what 
she had read upon his confused sheet had any meaning 
or truth to her。 She bent her head once more to the papers 
she held。 

“I like your little dot with the flames round it;” she 
said meditatively。 

Ralph nearly tore the page from her hand in shame and 
despair when he saw her actually contemplating the idi


otic symbol of his most confused and emotional moments。 

He was convinced that it could mean nothing to another; 
although somehow to him it conveyed not only 
Katharine herself but all those states of mind which had 
clustered round her since he first saw her pouring out tea 
on a Sunday afternoon。 It represented by its circumference 
of smudges surrounding a central blot all that encircling 
glow which for him surrounded; inexplicably; so many 
of the objects of life; softening their sharp outline; so 
that he could see certain streets; books; and situations 
wearing a halo almost perceptible to the physical eye。 
Did she smile? Did she put the paper down wearily; condemning 
it not only for its inadequacy but for its falsity? 
Was she going to protest once more that he only loved 
the vision of her? But it did not occur to her that this 
diagram had anything to do with her。 She said simply; 
and in the same tone of reflection: 

“Yes; the world looks something like that to me too。” 
He received her assurance with profound joy。 Quietly 
and steadily there rose up behind the whole aspect of 
life that soft edge of fire which gave its red tint to the 

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Night and Day 

atmosphere and crowded the scene with shadows so deep 
and dark that one could fancy pushing farther into their 
density and still farther; exploring indefinitely。 Whether 
there was any correspondence between the two prospects 
now opening before them they shared the same sense of 
the impending future; vast; mysterious; infinitely stored 
with undeveloped shapes which each would unwrap for 
the other to behold; but for the present the prospect of 
the future was enough to fill them with silent adoration。 
At any rate; their further attempts to municate articulately 
were interrupted by a knock on the door; and 
the entrance of a maid who; with a due sense of mystery; 
announced that a lady wished to see Miss Hilbery; but 
refused to allow her name to be given。 

When Katharine rose; with a profound sigh; to resume 
her duties; Ralph went with her; and neither of them formulated 
any guess; on their way downstairs; as to who 
this anonymous lady might prove to be。 Perhaps the fantastic 
notion that she was a little black hunchback provided 
with a steel knife; which she would plunge into 
Katharine’s heart; appeared to Ralph more probable than 

another; and he pushed first into the diningroom to avert 
the blow。 Then he exclaimed “Cassandra!” with such heartiness 
at the sight of Cassandra Otway standing by the 
diningroom table that she put her finger to her lips and 
begged him to be quiet。 

“Nobody must know I’m here;” she explained in a sepulchral 
whisper。 “I missed my train。 I have been wandering 
about London all day。 I can bear it no longer。 
Katharine; what am I to do?” 

Katharine pushed forward a chair; Ralph hastily found 
wine and poured it out for her。 If not actually fainting; 
she was very near it。 

“William’s upstairs;” said Ralph; as soon as she appeared 
to be recovered。 “I’ll go and ask him to e down to 
you。” His own happiness had given him a confidence that 
every one else was bound to be happy too。 But Cassandra 
had her uncle’s mands and anger too vividly in her 
mind to dare any such defiance。 She became agitated 
and said that she must leave the house at once。 She was 
not in a condition to go; had they known where to send 
her。 Katharine’s mon sense; which had been in abey


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Virginia Woolf 

ance for the past week or two; still failed her; and she 
could only ask; “But where’s your luggage?” in the vague 
belief that to take lodgings depended entirely upon a 
sufficiency of luggage。 Cassandra’s reply; “I’ve lost my 
luggage;” in no way helped her to a conclusion。 

“You’ve lost your luggage;” she repeated。 Her eyes rested 
upon Ralph; with an expression which seemed better fitted 
to acpany a profound thanksgiving for his existence 
or some vow of eternal devotion than a question 
about luggage。 Cassandra perceived the look; and saw 
that it was returned; her eyes filled with tears。 She faltered 
in what she was saying。 She began bravely again to 
discuss the question of lodging when Katharine; who 
seemed to have municated silently with Ralph; and 
obtained his permission; took her ruby ring from her finger 
and giving it to Cassandra; said: “I believe it will fit 
you without any alteration。” 

These words would not have been enough to convince 
Cassandra of what she very much wished to believe had 
not Ralph taken the bare hand in his and demanded: 

“Why don’t you tell us you’re glad?” Cassandra was so 

glad that the tears ran down her cheeks。 The certainty of 
Katharine’s engagement not only relieved her of a thousand 
vague fears and selfreproaches; but entirely 
quenched that spirit of criticism which had lately impaired 
her belief in Katharine。 Her old faith came back to 
her。 She seemed to behold her with that curious intensity 
which she had lost; as a being who walks just beyond our 
sphere; so that life in their presence is a heightened process; 
illuminating not only ourselves but a considerable 
st

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