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Virginia Woolf Night and Day

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Virginia Woolf Night and Day Powered By Docstoc
					               Night and Day, by Virginia Woolf
                                        CHAPTER XVII
                                            Part 3
“Let me look at your engagement ring Aunt Charlotte,” she said, noticing her own.
She took the cluster of green stones and turned it round and round, but she did not know what to say
next.
“That poor old ring was a sad disappointment to me when I first had it,” Lady Otway mused. “I’d
set my heart on a diamond ring, but I never liked to tell Frank, naturally. He bought it at Simla.”
Katharine turned the ring round once more, and gave it back to her aunt without speaking. And
while she turned it round her lips set themselves firmly together, and it seemed to her that she could
satisfy William as these women had satisfied their husbands; she could pretend to like emeralds
when she preferred diamonds. Having replaced her ring, Lady Otway remarked that it was chilly,
though not more so than one must expect at this time of year. Indeed, one ought to be thankful to
see the sun at all, and she advised them both to dress warmly for their drive. Her aunt’s stock of
commonplaces, Katharine sometimes suspected, had been laid in on purpose to fill silences with,
and had little to do with her private thoughts. But at this moment they seemed terribly in keeping
with her own conclusions, so that she took up her knitting again and listened, chiefly with a view to
confirming herself in the belief that to be engaged to marry some one with whom you are not in
love is an inevitable step in a world where the existence of passion is only a traveller’s story
brought from the heart of deep forests and told so rarely that wise people doubt whether the story
can be true. She did her best to listen to her mother asking for news of John, and to her aunt
replying with the authentic history of Hilda’s engagement to an officer in the Indian Army, but she
cast her mind alternately towards forest paths and starry blossoms, and towards pages of neatly
written mathematical signs. When her mind took this turn her marriage seemed no more than an
archway through which it was necessary to pass in order to have her desire. At such times the
current of her nature ran in its deep narrow channel with great force and with an alarming lack of
consideration for the feelings of others. Just as the two elder ladies had finished their survey of the
family prospects, and Lady Otway was nervously anticipating some general statement as to life and
death from her sister-in-law, Cassandra burst into the room with the news that the carriage was at
the door.
“Why didn’t Andrews tell me himself?” said Lady Otway, peevishly, blaming her servants for not
living up to her ideals.
When Mrs. Hilbery and Katharine arrived in the hall, ready dressed for their drive, they found that
the usual discussion was going forward as to the plans of the rest of the family. In token of this, a
great many doors were opening and shutting, two or three people stood irresolutely on the stairs,
now going a few steps up, and now a few steps down, and Sir Francis himself had come out from
his study, with the “Times” under his arm, and a complaint about noise and draughts from the open
door which, at least, had the effect of bundling the people who did not want to go into the carriage,
and sending those who did not want to stay back to their rooms. It was decided that Mrs. Hilbery,
Katharine, Rodney, and Henry should drive to Lincoln, and any one else who wished to go should
follow on bicycles or in the pony-cart. Every one who stayed at Stogdon House had to make this
expedition to Lincoln in obedience to Lady Otway’s conception of the right way to entertain her
guests, which she had imbibed from reading in fashionable papers of the behavior of Christmas
parties in ducal houses. The carriage horses were both fat and aged, still they matched; the carriage
was shaky and uncomfortable, but the Otway arms were visible on the panels. Lady Otway stood on
the topmost step, wrapped in a white shawl, and waved her hand almost mechanically until they had
turned the corner under the laurel-bushes, when she retired indoors with a sense that she had played
her part, and a sigh at the thought that none of her children felt it necessary to play theirs.
The carriage bowled along smoothly over the gently curving road. Mrs. Hilbery dropped into a
pleasant, inattentive state of mind, in which she was conscious of the running green lines of the
hedges, of the swelling ploughland, and of the mild blue sky, which served her, after the first five
minutes, for a pastoral background to the drama of human life; and then she thought of a cottage
garden, with the flash of yellow daffodils against blue water; and what with the arrangement of
these different prospects, and the shaping of two or three lovely phrases, she did not notice that the
young people in the carriage were almost silent. Henry, indeed, had been included against his wish,
and revenged himself by observing Katharine and Rodney with disillusioned eyes; while Katharine
was in a state of gloomy self-suppression which resulted in complete apathy. When Rodney spoke
to her she either said “Hum!” or assented so listlessly that he addressed his next remark to her
mother. His deference was agreeable to her, his manners were exemplary; and when the church
towers and factory chimneys of the town came into sight, she roused herself, and recalled memories
of the fair summer of 1853, which fitted in harmoniously with what she was dreaming of the future.

				
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