《夜与日》第133章

356　
Virginia　Woolf　
not　angry　with　me；　are　you；　Katharine？”　
She　could　not　bring　herself　to　answer　him　until　she　had　
rid　her　mind　of　the　impression　that　her　aunt　had　made　on　
her。　It　seemed　to　her　that　the　very　flowers　were　contaminated；　
and　Cassandra’s　pockethandkerchief；　for　Mrs。　
Milvain　had　used　them　for　evidence　in　her　investigations。　
“She’s　been　spying　upon　us；”　she　said；　“following　us　
about　London；　overhearing　what　people　are　saying—”　
“Mrs。　Milvain？”　Rodney　exclaimed。　“What　has　she　told　
you？”　
His　air　of　open　confidence　entirely　vanished。　
“Oh；　people　are　saying　that　you’re　in　love　with　Cassandra；　
and　that　you　don’t　care　for　me。”　
“They　have　seen　us？”　he　asked。　
“Everything　we’ve　done　for　a　fortnight　has　been　seen。”　
“I　told　you　that　would　happen！”　he　exclaimed。　
He　walked　to　the　window　in　evident　perturbation。　
Katharine　was　too　indignant　to　attend　to　him。　She　was　
swept　away　by　the　force　of　her　own　anger。　Clasping　
Rodney’s　flowers；　she　stood　upright　and　motionless。　
Rodney　turned　away　from　the　window。　
“It’s　all　been　a　mistake；”　he　said。　“I　blame　myself　for　it。　
I　should　have　known　better。　I　let　you　persuade　me　in　a　
moment　of　madness。　I　beg　you　to　forget　my　insanity；　
Katharine。”　
“She　wished　even　to　persecute　Cassandra！”　Katharine　
burst　out；　not　listening　to　him。　“She　threatened　to　speak　
to　her。　She’s　capable　of　it—she’s　capable　of　anything！”　
“Mrs。　Milvain　is　not　tactful；　I　know；　but　you　exaggerate；　
Katharine。　People　are　talking　about　us。　She　was　right　
to　tell　us。　It　only　confirms　my　own　feeling—the　position　
is　monstrous。”　
At　length　Katharine　realized　some　part　of　what　he　meant。　
“You　don’t　mean　that　this　influences　you；　William？”　
she　asked　in　amazement。　
“It　does；”　he　said；　flushing。　“It’s　intensely　disagreeable　
to　me。　I　can’t　endure　that　people　should　gossip　about　
us。　And　then　there’s　your　cousin—Cassandra—”　He　paused　
in　embarrassment。　
“I　came　here　this　morning；　Katharine；”　he　resumed；　with　
a　change　of　voice；　“to　ask　you　to　forget　my　folly；　my　bad　
temper；　my　inconceivable　behavior。　I　came；　Katharine；　to　
357　
Night　and　Day　
ask　whether　we　can’t　return　to　the　position　we　were　in　
before　this—this　season　of　lunacy。　Will　you　take　me　back；　
Katharine；　once　more　and　for　ever？”　
No　doubt　her　beauty；　intensified　by　emotion　and　enhanced　
by　the　flowers　of　bright　color　and　strange　shape　
which　she　carried　wrought　upon　Rodney；　and　had　its　share　
in　bestowing　upon　her　the　old　romance。　But　a　less　noble　
passion　worked　in　him；　too；　he　was　inflamed　by　jealousy。　
His　tentative　offer　of　affection　had　been　rudely　and；　as　
he　thought；　pletely　repulsed　by　Cassandra　on　the　preceding　
day。　Denham’s　confession　was　in　his　mind。　And　
ultimately；　Katharine’s　dominion　over　him　was　of　the　sort　
that　the　fevers　of　the　night　cannot　exorcise。　
“I　was　as　much　to　blame　as　you　were　yesterday；”　she　
said　gently；　disregarding　his　question。　“I　confess；　William；　
the　sight　of　you　and　Cassandra　together　made　me　
jealous；　and　I　couldn’t　control　myself。　I　laughed　at　you；　I　
know。”　
“You　jealous！”　William　exclaimed。　“l　assure　you；　
Katharine；　you’ve　not　the　slightest　reason　to　be　jealous。　
Cassandra　dislikes　me；　so　far　as　she　feels　about　me　at　all。　
I　was　foolish　enough　to　try　to　explain　the　nature　of　our　
relationship。　I　couldn’t　resist　telling　her　what　I　supposed　
myself　to　feel　for　her。　She　refused　to　listen；　very　rightly。　
But　she　left　me　in　no　doubt　of　her　scorn。”　
Katharine　hesitated。　She　was　confused；　agitated；　physically　
tired；　and　had　already　to　reckon　with　the　violent　
feeling　of　dislike　aroused　by　her　aunt　which　still　vibrated　
through　all　the　rest　of　her　feelings。　She　sank　into　a　chair　
and　dropped　her　flowers　upon　her　lap。　
“She　charmed　me；”　Rodney　continued。　“I　thought　I　loved　
her。　But　that’s　a　thing　of　the　past。　It’s　all　over；　Katharine。　
It　was　a　dream—an　hallucination。　We　were　both　equally　
to　blame；　but　no　harm’s　done　if　you　believe　how　truly　I　
care　for　you。　Say　you　believe　me！”　
He　stood　over　her；　as　if　in　readiness　to　seize　the　first　
sign　of　her　assent。　Precisely　at　that　moment；　owing；　perhaps；　
to　her　vicissitudes　of　feeling；　all　sense　of　love　left　
her；　as　in　a　moment　a　mist　lifts　from　the　earth。　And　when　
the　mist　departed　a　skeleton　world　and　blankness　alone　
remained—a　terrible　prospect　for　the　eyes　of　the　living　
to　behold。　He　saw　the　look　of　terror　in　her　face；　and　
358　
Virginia　Woolf　
without　understanding　its　origin；　took　her　hand　in　his。　
With　the　sense　of　panionship　returned　a　desire；　like　
that　of　a　child　for　shelter；　to　accept　what　he　had　to　offer　
her—and　at　that　moment　it　seemed　that　he　offered　her　
the　only　thing　that　could　make　it　tolerable　to　live。　She　
let　him　press　his　lips　to　her　cheek；　and　leant　her　head　
upon　his　arm。　It　was　the　moment　of　his　triumph。　It　was　
the　only　moment　in　which　she　belonged　to　him　and　was　
dependent　upon　his　protection。　
“Yes；　yes；　yes；”　he　murmured；　“you　accept　me；　Katharine。　
You　love　me。”　
For　a　moment　she　remained　silent。　He　then　heard　her　
murmur：　
“Cassandra　loves　you　more　than　I　do。”　
“Cassandra？”　he　whispered。　
“She　loves　you；”　Katharine　repeated。　She　raised　herself　
and　repeated　the　sentence　yet　a　third　time。　“She　loves　
you。”　
William　slowly　raised　himself。　He　believed　instinctively　
what　Katharine　said；　but　what　it　meant　to　him　he　was　
unable　to　understand。　Could　Cassandra　love　him？　Could　
she　have　told　Katharine　that　she　loved　him？　The　desire　
to　know　the　truth　of　this　was　urgent；　unknown　though　
the　consequences　might　be。　The　thrill　of　excitement　associated　
with　the　thought　of　Cassandra　once　more　took　
possession　of　him。　No　longer　was　it　the　excitement　of　
anticipation　and　ignorance；　it　was　the　excitement　of　something　
greater　than　a　possibility；　for　now　he　knew　her　and　
had　measure　of　the　sympathy　between　them。　But　who　
could　give　him　certainty？　Could　Katharine；　Katharine　who　
had　lately　lain　in　his　arms；　Katharine　herself　the　most　
admired　of　w