[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第35章

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“The　traffic’s　very　much　increased；　you　know。　More　rolling
stock　needed　already。　Forty　trucks　went　down　yesterday　
by　the　12。15—counted　them　myself。　They’ve　taken　
off　the　9。3；　and　given　us　an　8。30　instead—suits　the　business　
men；　you　know。　You　came　by　the　old　3。10　yesterday；　
I　suppose？”　

She　said　“Yes；”　as　he　seemed　to　wish　for　a　reply；　and　
then　he　looked　at　his　watch；　and　made　off　down　the　path　
towards　the　house；　holding　the　rose　at　the　same　angle　in　
front　of　him。　Elizabeth　had　gone　round　to　the　side　of　the　
house；　where　the　chickens　lived；　so　that　Mary　found　herself　
alone；　holding　Ralph’s　letter　in　her　hand。　She　was　
uneasy。　She　had　put　off　the　season　for　thinking　things　
out　very　successfully；　and　now　that　Ralph　was　actually　
ing；　the　next　day；　she　could　only　wonder　how　her　
family　would　impress　him。　She　thought　it　likely　that　her　
father　would　discuss　the　train　service　with　him；　Elizabeth　
would　be　bright　and　sensible；　and　always　leaving　
the　room　to　give　messages　to　the　servants。　Her　brothers　
had　already　said　that　they　would　give　him　a　day’s　shooting。　
She　was　content　to　leave　the　problem　of　Ralph’s　
relations　to　the　young　men　obscure；　trusting　that　they　
would　find　some　mon　ground　of　masculine　agreement。　
But　what　would　he　think　of　her？　Would　he　see　that　she　
was　different　from　the　rest　of　the　family？　She　devised　a　
plan　for　taking　him　to　her　sittingroom；　and　artfully　leading　
the　talk　towards　the　English　poets；　who　now　occu


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pied　prominent　places　in　her　little　bookcase。　Moreover；　
she　might　give　him　to　understand；　privately；　that　she；　
too；　thought　her　family　a　queer　one—queer；　yes；　but　not　
dull。　That　was　the　rock　past　which　she　was　bent　on　steering　
him。　And　she　thought　how　she　would　draw　his　attention　
to　Edward’s　passion　for　Jorrocks；　and　the　enthusiasm　
which　led　Christopher　to　collect　moths　and　butterflies　
though　he　was　now　twentytwo。　Perhaps　Elizabeth’s　
sketching；　if　the　fruits　were　invisible；　might　lend　color　to　
the　general　effect　which　she　wished　to　produce　of　a　family；　
eccentric　and　limited；　perhaps；　but　not　dull。　Edward；　
she　perceived；　was　rolling　the　lawn；　for　the　sake　of　exercise；　
and　the　sight　of　him；　with　pink　cheeks；　bright　little　
brown　eyes；　and　a　general　resemblance　to　a　clumsy　young　
carthorse　in　its　winter　coat　of　dusty　brown　hair；　made　
Mary　violently　ashamed　of　her　ambitious　scheming。　She　
loved　him　precisely　as　he　was；　she　loved　them　all；　and　as　
she　walked　by　his　side；　up　and　down；　and　down　and　up；　
her　strong　moral　sense　administered　a　sound　drubbing　to　
the　vain　and　romantic　element　aroused　in　her　by　the　mere　
thought　of　Ralph。　She　felt　quite　certain　that；　for　good　or　

for　bad；　she　was　very　like　the　rest　of　her　family。　

Sitting　in　the　corner　of　a　thirdclass　railway　carriage；　
on　the　afternoon　of　the　following　day；　Ralph　made　several　
inquiries　of　a　mercial　traveler　in　the　opposite　
corner。　They　centered　round　a　village　called　Lampsher；　
not　three　miles；　he　understood；　from　Lincoln；　was　there　a　
big　house　in　Lampsher；　he　asked；　inhabited　by　a　gentleman　
of　the　name　of　Otway？　

The　traveler　knew　nothing；　but　rolled　the　name　of　Otway　
on　his　tongue；　reflectively；　and　the　sound　of　it　gratified　
Ralph　amazingly。　It　gave　him　an　excuse　to　take　a　letter　
from　his　pocket　in　order　to　verify　the　address。　

“Stogdon　House；　Lampsher；　Lincoln；”　he　read　out。　

“You’ll　find　somebody　to　direct　you　at　Lincoln；”　said　
the　man；　and　Ralph　had　to　confess　that　he　was　not　bound　
there　this　very　evening。　

“I’ve　got　to　walk　over　from　Disham；”　he　said；　and　in　the　
heart　of　him　could　not　help　marveling　at　the　pleasure　
which　he　derived　from　making　a　bagman　in　a　train　believe　
what　he　himself　did　not　believe。　For　the　letter；　though　
signed　by　Katharine’s　father；　contained　no　invitation　or　

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warrant　for　thinking　that　Katharine　herself　was　there；　
the　only　fact　it　disclosed　was　that　for　a　fortnight　this　
address　would　be　Mr。　Hilbery’s　address。　But　when　he　looked　
out　of　the　window；　it　was　of　her　he　thought；　she；　too；　
had　seen　these　gray　fields；　and；　perhaps；　she　was　there　
where　the　trees　ran　up　a　slope；　and　one　yellow　light　shone　
now；　and　then　went　out　again；　at　the　foot　of　the　hill。　The　
light　shone　in　the　windows　of　an　old　gray　house；　he　
thought。　He　lay　back　in　his　corner　and　forgot　the　mercial　
traveler　altogether。　The　process　of　visualizing　
Katharine　stopped　short　at　the　old　gray　manorhouse；　
instinct　warned　him　that　if　he　went　much　further　with　
this　process　reality　would　soon　force　itself　in；　he　could　
not　altogether　neglect　the　figure　of　William　Rodney。　Since　
the　day　when　he　had　heard　from　Katharine’s　lips　of　her　
engagement；　he　had　refrained　from　investing　his　dream　
of　her　with　the　details　of　real　life。　But　the　light　of　the　
late　afternoon　glowed　green　behind　the　straight　trees；　
and　became　a　symbol　of　her。　The　light　seemed　to　expand　
his　heart。　She　brooded　over　the　gray　fields；　and　was　with　
him　now　in　the　railway　carriage；　thoughtful；　silent；　and　

infinitely　tender；　but　the　vision　pressed　too　close；　and　
must　be　dismissed；　for　the　train　was　slackening。　Its　abrupt　
jerks　shook　him　wide　awake；　and　he　saw　Mary　Datchet；　a　
sturdy　russet　figure；　with　a　dash　of　scarlet　about　it；　as　
the　carriage　slid　down　the　platform。　A　tall　youth　who　
acpanied　her　shook　him　by　the　hand；　took　his　bag；　
and　led　the　way　without　uttering　one　articulate　word。　

Never　are　voices　so　beautiful　as　on　a　winter’s　evening；　
when　dusk　almost　hides　the　body；　and　they　seem　to　issue　
from　nothingness　with　a　note　of　intimacy　seldom　heard　
by　day。　Such　an　edge　was　there　in　Mary’s　voice　when　she　
greeted　him。　About　her　seemed　to　hang　the　mist　of　the　
winter　hedges；　and　the　clear　red　of　the　bramble　leaves。　
He　felt　himself　at　once　stepping　on　to　the　firm　ground　of　
an　entirely　different　world；　but　he　did　not　allow　himself　
to　yield　to　the　pleasure　of　it　directly。　They　gave　him　his　
choice　of　driving　with　Edward　or　of　walking　home　across　
the　fields　with　Mary—not　a　shorter　way；　they　explained；　
but　Mary　thought　it　a　nicer　way。　He　decided　to　walk　with　
her；　being　conscious；　indeed；　that　he　got　fort　from　
her　presence。　What　could　be　the　cause　of　her　cheerful


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ness；　he　wondered；　half　ironically；　and　half　enviously；　as　
the　ponycart　started　briskly　away；　and　the　dusk　swam　
between　their　eyes　and　the　tall　form　of　Edward；　standing　
up　to　drive；　with　the　reins　in　one　hand　and　the　whip　in　
the　other。　People　from　the　village；　who　had　been　to　the　
market　town；　were　climbing　into　their　gigs；　or　setting　off　
home　down　the　road　together　in　little　parties。　Many　salutations　
were　addressed　to　Mary；　who　shouted　back；　with　
the　addition　of　the　speaker’s　name。　But　soon　she　led　the　
way　over　a　stile；　and　along　a　path　worn　slightly　darker　
than　the　dim　green　surrounding　it。　In　front　of　them　the　
sky　now　showed　itself　of　a　reddishyellow；　like　a　slice　of　
some　semilucent　stone　behind　which　a　lamp　burnt；　while　
a　fringe　of　black　trees　with　distinct　branches　stood　against　
the　light；　which　was　obscured　in　one　direction　by　a　hump　
of　earth；　in　all　other　directions　the　land　lying　flat　to　the　
very　verge　of　the　sky。　One　of　the　swift　and　noiseless　birds　
of　the　winter’s　night　seemed　to　follow　them　across　the　
field；　circling　a　few　feet　in　front　of　them；　disappearing　
and　returning　again　and　again。　

Mary　had　gone　this　walk　many　hundred　times　in　the　

course　of　her　life；　generally　alone；　and　at　different　stages　
the　ghosts　of　past　moods　would　flood　her　mind　with　a　
whole　scene　or　train　of　thought　merely　at　the　sight　of　
three　trees　from　a　particular　angle；　or　at　the　sound　of　the　
pheasant　clucking　in　the　ditch。　But　tonight　the　circumstances　
were　strong　enough　to　oust　all　other　scenes；　and　
she　looked　at　the　field　and　the　trees　with　an　involuntary　
intensity　as　if　they　had　no　such　associations　for　her。　

“Well；　Ralph；”　she　said；　“this　is　better　than　Lincoln’s　Inn　
Fields；　isn’t　it？　Look；　there’s　a　bird　for　you！　Oh；　you’ve　brought　
glasses；　have　you？　Edward　and　Christopher　mean　to　make　
you　shoot。　Can　you　shoot？　I　shouldn’t　think　so—”　

“Look　here；　you　must　explain；”　said　Ralph。　“Who　are　
these　young　men？　Where　am　I　staying？”　

“You　are　staying　with　us；　of　course；”　she　said　boldly。　
“Of　course；　you’re　staying　with　us—you　don’t　mind　ing；　
do　you？”　

“If　I　had；　I　shouldn’t　have　e；”　he　said　sturdily。　They　
walked　on　in　silence；　Mary　took　care　not　to　break　it　for　a　
time。　She　wished　Ralph　to　feel；　as　she　thought　he　would；　
all　the　fresh　delights　of　the　earth　and　air。　She　was　right。　

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In　a　moment　he　expressed　his　pleasure；　much　to　her　fort。　


“This　is　the　sort　of　country　I　thought　you’d　live　in；　
Mary；”　he　said；　pushing　his　hat　back　on　his　head；　and　
looking　about　him。　“Real　country。　No　gentlemen’s　seats。”　

He　snuffed　the　air；　and　felt　more　keenly　than　he　had　
done　for　many　weeks　the　pleasure　of　owning　a　body。　

“Now　we　have　to　find　our　way　through　a　hedge；”　said　
Mary。　In　the　gap　of　the　hedge　Ralph　tore　up　a　poacher’s　
wire；　set　across　a　hole　to　trap　a　rabbit。　

“It’s　quite　right　that　they　should　poach；”　said　Mary；　
watching　him　tugging　at　the　wire。　“I　wonder　whether　it　
was　Alfred　Duggins　or　Sid　Rankin？　How　can　one　expect　
them　not　to；　when　they　only　make　fifteen　shillings　a　
week？　Fifteen　shillings　a　week；”　she　repeated；　ing　
out　on　the　other　side　of　the　hedge；　and　running　her　fingers　
through　her　hair　to　rid　herself　of　a　bramble　which　
had　attached　itself　to　her。　“I　could　live　on　fifteen　shillings　
a　week—easily。”　

“Could　you？”　said　Ralph。　“I　don’t　believe　you　could；”　
he　added。　

“Oh　yes。　They　have　a　cottage　thrown　in；　and　a　garden　
where　one　can　grow　vegetables。　It　wouldn’t　be　half　bad；”　
said　Mary；　with　a　soberness　which　impressed　Ralph　very　much。　

“But　you’d　get　tired　of　it；”　he　urged。　

“I　sometimes　think　it’s　the　only　thing　one　would　never　
get　tired　of；”　she　replied。　

The　idea　of　a　cottage　where　one　grew　one’s　own　vegetables　
and　lived　on　fifteen