when by chance or purpose she struck her hand against it。
No feeling of annoyance with Denham remained； he certainly
did not hinder any flight she might choose to make；
whether in the direction of the sky or of her home； but
that her condition was due to him； or to anything that he
had said； she had no consciousness at all。
They were now within sight of the stream of cabs and
omnibuses crossing to and from the Surrey side of the
river； the sound of the traffic； the hooting of motorhorns；
and the light chime of trambells sounded more and more
distinctly； and； with the increase of noise； they both became
silent。 With a mon instinct they slackened their
pace； as if to lengthen the time of semiprivacy allowed
them。 To Ralph； the pleasure of these last yards of the
walk with Katharine was so great that he could not look
beyond the present moment to the time when she should
have left him。 He had no wish to use the last moments of
260
Virginia Woolf
their panionship in adding fresh words to what he
had already said。 Since they had stopped talking； she
had bee to him not so much a real person； as the
very woman he dreamt of； but his solitary dreams had
never produced any such keenness of sensation as that
which he felt in her presence。 He himself was also strangely
transfigured。 He had plete mastery of all his faculties。
For the first time he was in possession of his full
powers。 The vistas which opened before him seemed to
have no perceptible end。 But the mood had none of the
restlessness or feverish desire to add one delight to another
which had hitherto marked； and somewhat spoilt；
the most rapturous of his imaginings。 It was a mood that
took such cleareyed account of the conditions of human
life that he was not disturbed in the least by the gliding
presence of a taxicab； and without agitation he perceived
that Katharine was conscious of it also； and turned her
head in that direction。 Their halting steps acknowledged
the desirability of engaging the cab； and they stopped
simultaneously； and signed to it。
“Then you will let me know your decision as soon as
you can？” he asked； with his hand on the door。
She hesitated for a moment。 She could not immediately
recall what the question was that she had to decide。
“I will write；” she said vaguely。 “No；” she added； in a
second； bethinking her of the difficulties of writing anything
decided upon a question to which she had paid no
attention； “I don’t see how to manage it。”
She stood looking at Denham； considering and hesitating；
with her foot upon the step。 He guessed her difficulties；
he knew in a second that she had heard nothing； he
knew everything that she felt。
“There’s only one place to discuss things satisfactorily
that I know of；” he said quickly； “that’s Kew。”
“Kew？”
“Kew；” he repeated； with immense decision。 He shut
the door and gave her address to the driver。 She instantly
was conveyed away from him； and her cab joined the
knotted stream of vehicles； each marked by a light； and
indistinguishable one from the other。 He stood watching
for a moment； and then； as if swept by some fierce impulse；
from the spot where they had stood； he turned；
261
Night and Day
crossed the road at a rapid pace； and disappeared。
He walked on upon the impetus of this last mood of
almost supernatural exaltation until he reached a narrow
street； at this hour empty of traffic and passengers。 Here；
whether it was the shops with their shuttered windows；
the smooth and silvered curve of the wood pavement； or
a natural ebb of feeling； his exaltation slowly oozed and
deserted him。 He was now conscious of the loss that follows
any revelation； he had lost something in speaking
to Katharine； for； after all； was the Katharine whom he
loved the same as the real Katharine？ She had transcended
her entirely at moments； her skirt had blown； her feather
waved； her voice spoken； yes； but how terrible sometimes
the pause between the voice of one’s dreams and
the voice that es from the object of one’s dreams！ He
felt a mixture of disgust and pity at the figure cut by
human beings when they try to carry out； in practice；
what they have the power to conceive。 How small both
he and Katharine had appeared when they issued from
the cloud of thought that enveloped them！ He recalled
the small； inexpressive； monplace words in which they
had tried to municate with each other； he repeated
them over to himself。 By repeating Katharine’s words； he
came in a few moments to such a sense of her presence
that he worshipped her more than ever。 But she was engaged
to be married； he remembered with a start。 The
strength of his feeling was revealed to him instantly； and
he gave himself up to an irresistible rage and sense of
frustration。 The image of Rodney came before him with
every circumstance of folly and indignity。 That little pink
cheeked dancingmaster to marry Katharine？ that gibbering
ass with the face of a monkey on an organ？ that
posing； vain； fantastical fop？ with his tragedies and his
edies； his innumerable spites and prides and
pettinesses？ Lord！ marry Rodney！ She must be as great a
fool as he was。 His bitterness took possession of him；
and as he sat in the corner of the underground carriage；
he looked as stark an image of unapproachable severity
as could be imagined。 Directly he reached home he sat
down at his table； and began to write Katharine a long；
wild； mad letter； begging her for both their sakes to break
with Rodney； imploring her not to do what would destroy
262
Virginia Woolf
for ever the one beauty； the one truth； the one hope； not
to be a traitor； not to be a deserter； for if she were—and
he wound up with a quiet and brief assertion that； whatever
she did or left undone； he would believe to be the
best； and accept from her with gratitude。 He covered sheet
after sheet； and heard the early carts starting for London
before he went to bed。
CHAPTER XXIV
The first signs of spring； even such as make themselves
felt towards the middle of February； not only produce
little white and violet flowers in the more sheltered corners
of woods and gardens； but bring to birth thoughts
and desires parable to those faintly colored and
sweetly scented petals in the minds of men and women。
Lives frozen by age； so far as the present is concerned； to
a hard surface； which neither reflects nor yields； at this
season bee soft and fluid； reflecting the shapes and
colors of the present； as well as the shapes and colors of
the past。 In the case of Mrs。 Hilbery； these early spring
days were chiefly upsetting inasmuch as they caused a
general quickening of her emotional powers； which； as
far as the past was concerned； had never suffered much
diminution。 But in the spring her desire for expression
invariably increased。 She was haunted by the ghosts of
phrases。 She gave herself up to a sensual delight in the
binations of words。 She sought them in the pages of
her favorite authors。 She made them for herself on scraps
263
Night and Day
of paper； and rolled them on her tongue when there
seemed no occasion for such eloquence。 She was upheld
in these excursions by the certainty that no language
could outdo the splendor of her father’s memory； and although
her efforts did not notably further the end of his
biography； she was under the impression of living more
in his shade at such times than at others。 No one can
escape the power of language； let alone those of English
birth brought up from childhood； as Mrs。 Hilbery had been；
to disport themselves now in the Saxon plainness； now in
the Latin splendor of the tongue； and stored with memories；
as she was； of old poets exuberating in an infinity of
vocables。 Even Katharine was slightly affected against
her better judgment by her mother’s enthusiasm。 Not that
her judgment could altogether acquiesce in the necessity
for a study of Shakespeare’s sons as a preliminary to
the fifth chapter of her grandfather’s biography。 Beginning
with a perfectly frivolous jest； Mrs。 Hilbery had
evolved a theory that Anne Hathaway had a way； among
other things； of writing Shakespeare’s sons； the idea；
struck out to enliven a party of professors； who forwarded
a number of privately printed manuals within the next
few days for her instruction； had submerged her in a flood
of Elizabethan literature； she had e half to believe in
her joke； which was； she said； at least as good as other
people’s facts； and all her fancy for the time being centered
upon StratfordonAvon。 She had a plan； she told
Katharine； when； rather later than usual； Katharine came
into the room the morning after her walk by the river； for
visiting Shakespeare’s tomb。 Any fact about the poet had
bee； for the moment； of far greater interest to her
than the immediate present； and the certainty that there
was existing in England a spot of ground where
Shakespeare had undoubtedly stood； where his very bones
lay directly beneath one’s feet； was so absor