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。”