[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第23部分

“Cyril　seems　to　have　been　behaving　in　a　very　foolish　
manner；”　said　Mr。　Hilbery；　in　his　pleasant　and　deliberate　
tones。　

Katharine　found　some　difficulty　in　carrying　on　the　conversation；　
while　her　father　balanced　his　fingertips　so　
judiciously；　and　seemed　to　reserve　so　many　of　his　thoughts　
for　himself。　

“He’s　about　done　for　himself；　I　should　say；”　he　continued。　
Without　saying　anything；　he　took　Katharine’s　letters　
out　of　her　hand；　adjusted　his　eyeglasses；　and　read　them　
through。　

At　length　he　said　“Humph！”　and　gave　the　letters　back　
to　her。　

“Mother　knows　nothing　about　it；”　Katharine　remarked。　
“Will　you　tell　her？”　

“I　shall　tell　your　mother。　But　I　shall　tell　her　that　there　
is　nothing　whatever　for　us　to　do。”　

“But　the　marriage？”　Katharine　asked；　with　some　diffidence。　


Mr。　Hilbery　said　nothing；　and　stared　into　the　fire。　

“What　in　the　name　of　conscience　did　he　do　it　for？”　he　
speculated　at　last；　rather　to　himself　than　to　her。　

Katharine　had　begun　to　read　her　aunt’s　letter　over　again；　
and　she　now　quoted　a　sentence。　“Ibsen　and　Butler…　。　He　
has　sent　me　a　letter　full　of　quotations—nonsense；　though　
clever　nonsense。”　

“Well；　if　the　younger　generation　want　to　carry　on　its　
life　on　those　lines；　it’s　none　of　our　affair；”　he　remarked。　

“But　isn’t　it　our　affair；　perhaps；　to　make　them　get　married？”　
Katharine　asked　rather　wearily。　

“Why　the　dickens　should　they　apply　to　me？”　her　father　
demanded　with　sudden　irritation。　

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Night　and　Day　

“Only　as　the　head　of　the　family—”　

“But　I’m　not　the　head　of　the　family。　Alfred’s　the　head　of　
the　family。　Let　them　apply　to　Alfred；”　said　Mr。　Hilbery；　
relapsing　again　into　his　armchair。　Katharine　was　aware　
that　she　had　touched　a　sensitive　spot；　however；　in　mentioning　
the　family。　

“I　think；　perhaps；　the　best　thing　would　be　for　me　to　go　
and　see　them；”　she　observed。　

“I　won’t　have　you　going　anywhere　near　them；”　Mr。　
Hilbery　replied　with　unwonted　decision　and　authority。　
“Indeed；　I　don’t　understand　why　they’ve　dragged　you　into　
the　business　at　all—I　don’t　see　that　it’s　got　anything　to　
do　with　you。”　

“I’ve　always　been　friends　with　Cyril；”　Katharine　observed。　

“But　did　he　ever　tell　you　anything　about　this？”　Mr。　
Hilbery　asked　rather　sharply。　

Katharine　shook　her　head。　She　was；　indeed；　a　good　deal　
hurt　that　Cyril　had　not　confided　in　her—did　he　think；　as　
Ralph　Denham　or　Mary　Datchet　might　think；　that　she　was；　
for　some　reason；　unsympathetic—hostile　even？　

“As　to　your　mother；”　said　Mr。　Hilbery；　after　a　pause；　in　

which　he　seemed　to　be　considering　the　color　of　the　flames；　
“you　had　better　tell　her　the　facts。　She’d　better　know　the　
facts　before　every　one　begins　to　talk　about　it；　though　
why　Aunt　Celia　thinks　it　necessary　to　e；　I’m　sure　I　
don’t　know。　And　the　less　talk　there　is　the　better。”　

Granting　the　assumption　that　gentlemen　of　sixty　who　
are　highly　cultivated；　and　have　had　much　experience　of　
life；　probably　think　of　many　things　which　they　do　not　say；　
Katharine　could　not　help　feeling　rather　puzzled　by　her　
father’s　attitude；　as　she　went　back　to　her　room。　What　a　
distance　he　was　from　it　all！　How　superficially　he　smoothed　
these　events　into　a　semblance　of　decency　which　harmonized　
with　his　own　view　of　life！　He　never　wondered　what　
Cyril　had　felt；　nor　did　the　hidden　aspects　of　the　case　tempt　
him　to　examine　into　them。　He　merely　seemed　to　realize；　
rather　languidly；　that　Cyril　had　behaved　in　a　way　which　
was　foolish；　because　other　people　did　not　behave　in　that　
way。　He　seemed　to　be　looking　through　a　telescope　at　little　
figures　hundreds　of　miles　in　the　distance。　

Her　selfish　anxiety　not　to　have　to　tell　Mrs。　Hilbery　what　
had　happened　made　her　follow　her　father　into　the　hall　

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after　breakfast　the　next　morning　in　order　to　question　
him。　

“Have　you　told　mother？”　she　asked。　Her　manner　to　her　
father　was　almost　stern；　and　she　seemed　to　hold　endless　
depths　of　reflection　in　the　dark　of　her　eyes。　

Mr。　Hilbery　sighed。　

“My　dear　child；　it　went　out　of　my　head。”　He　smoothed　
his　silk　hat　energetically；　and　at　once　affected　an　air　of　
hurry。　“I’ll　send　a　note　round　from　the　office…　。　I’m　late　
this　morning；　and　I’ve　any　amount　of　proofs　to　get　
through。”　

“That　wouldn’t　do　at　all；”　Katharine　said　decidedly。　“She　
must　be　told—you　or　I　must　tell　her。　We　ought　to　have　
told　her　at　first。”　

Mr。　Hilbery　had　now　placed　his　hat　on　his　head；　and　his　
hand　was　on　the　doorknob。　An　expression　which　Katharine　
knew　well　from　her　childhood；　when　he　asked　her　to　shield　
him　in　some　neglect　of　duty；　came　into　his　eyes；　malice；　
humor；　and　irresponsibility　were　blended　in　it。　He　nodded　
his　head　to　and　fro　significantly；　opened　the　door　
with　an　adroit　movement；　and　stepped　out　with　a　light


ness　unexpected　at　his　age。　He　waved　his　hand　once　to　
his　daughter；　and　was　gone。　Left　alone；　Katharine　could　
not　help　laughing　to　find　herself　cheated　as　usual　in　domestic　
bargainings　with　her　father；　and　left　to　do　the　
disagreeable　work　which　belonged；　by　rights；　to　him。　

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Night　and　Day　

CHAPTER　IX　this　morning；　and　get　a　lot　done。”　

Katharine　disliked　telling　her　mother　about　Cyril’s　misbehavior　
quite　as　much　as　her　father　did；　and　for　much　the　
same　reasons。　They　both　shrank；　nervously；　as　people　fear　
the　report　of　a　gun　on　the　stage；　from　all　that　would　have　
to　be　said　on　this　occasion。　Katharine；　moreover；　was　
unable　to　decide　what　she　thought　of　Cyril’s　misbehavior。　
As　usual；　she　saw　something　which　her　father　and　mother　
did　not　see；　and　the　effect　of　that　something　was　to　
suspend　Cyril’s　behavior　in　her　mind　without　any　qualification　
at　all。　They　would　think　whether　it　was　good　or　
bad；　to　her　it　was　merely　a　thing　that　had　happened。　

When　Katharine　reached　the　study；　Mrs。　Hilbery　had　
already　dipped　her　pen　in　the　ink。　

“Katharine；”　she　said；　lifting　it　in　the　air；　“I’ve　just　
made　out　such　a　queer；　strange　thing　about　your　grandfather。　
I’m　three　years　and　six　months　older　than　he　was　
when　he　died。　I　couldn’t　very　well　have　been　his　mother；　
but　I　might　have　been　his　elder　sister；　and　that　seems　to　
me　such　a　pleasant　fancy。　I’m　going　to　start　quite　fresh　

She　began　her　sentence；　at　any　rate；　and　Katharine　sat　
down　at　her　own　table；　untied　the　bundle　of　old　letters　
upon　which　she　was　working；　smoothed　them　out　absent
mindedly；　and　began　to　decipher　the　faded　script。　
In　a　minute　she　looked　across　at　her　mother；　to　judge　her　
mood。　Peace　and　happiness　had　relaxed　every　muscle　in　
her　face；　her　lips　were　parted　very　slightly；　and　her　breath　
came　in　smooth；　controlled　inspirations　like　those　of　a　
child　who　is　surrounding　itself　with　a　building　of　bricks；　
and　increasing　in　ecstasy　as　each　brick　is　placed　in　position。　
So　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　raising　round　her　the　skies　and　
trees　of　the　past　with　every　stroke　of　her　pen；　and　recalling　
the　voices　of　the　dead。　Quiet　as　the　room　was；　and　
undisturbed　by　the　sounds　of　the　present　moment；　
Katharine　could　fancy　that　here　was　a　deep　pool　of　past　
time；　and　that　she　and　her　mother　were　bathed　in　the　
light　of　sixty　years　ago。　What　could　the　present　give；　she　
wondered；　to　pare　with　the　rich　crowd　of　gifts　bestowed　
by　the　past？　Here　was　a　Thursday　morning　in　process　
of　manufacture；　each　second　was　minted　fresh　by　

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the　clock　upon　the　mantelpiece。　She　strained　her　ears　
and　could　just　hear；　far　off；　the　hoot　of　a　motorcar　and　
the　rush　of　wheels　ing　nearer　and　dying　away　again；　
and　the　voices　of　men　crying　old　iron　and　vegetables　in　
one　of　the　poorer　streets　at　the　back　of　the　house。　Rooms；　
of　course；　accumulate　their　suggestions；　and　any　room　in　
which　one　has　been　used　to　carry　on　any　particular　occupation　
gives　off　memories　of　moods；　of　ideas；　of　postures　
that　have　been　seen　in　it；　so　that　to　attempt　any　different　
kind　of　work　there　is　almost　impossible。　

Katharine　was　unconsciously　affected；　each　time　she　
entered　her　mother’s　room；　by　all　these　influences；　which　
had　had　their　birth　years　ago；　when　she　was　a　child；　and　
had　something　sweet　and　solemn　about　them；　and　connected　
themselves　with　early　memories　of　the　cavernous　
glooms　and　sonorous　echoes　of　the　Abbey　where　her　grandfather　
lay　buried。　All　the　books　and　pictures；　even　the　
chairs　and　tables；　had　belonged　to　him；　or　had　reference　
to　him；　even　the　china　dogs　on　the　mantelpiece　and　the　
little　shepherdesses　with　their　sheep　had　been　bought　by　
him　for　a　penny　a　piece　from　a　man　who　used　to　stand　

with　a　tray　of　toys　in　Kensington　High　Street；　as　Katharine　
had　often　heard　her　mother　tell。　Often　she　had　sat　in　this　
room；　with　her　mind　fixed　so　firmly　on　those　vanished　
figures　that　she　could　almost　see　the　muscles　round　their　
eyes　and　lips；　and　had　given　to　each　his　own　voice；　with　
its　tricks　of　accent；　and　his　coat　and　his　cravat。　Often　
she　had　seemed　to　herself　to　be　moving　among　them；　an　
invisible　ghost　among　the　living；　better　acquainted　with　
them　than　with　her　own　friends；　because　she　knew　t