按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
in uncovering with the point of his stick a group of green
spikes half smothered by the dead leaves。 He did this
with the peculiar touch of the botanist。 In naming the
little green plant to her he used the Latin name； thus
disguising some flower familiar even to Chelsea； and
making her exclaim； half in amusement； at his knowledge。
Her own ignorance was vast； she confessed。 What
did one call that tree opposite； for instance； supposing
one condescended to call it by its English name？ Beech
or elm or sycamore？ It chanced； by the testimony of a
dead leaf； to be oak； and a little attention to a diagram
which Denham proceeded to draw upon an envelope soon
put Katharine in possession of some of the fundamental
distinctions between our British trees。 She then asked
him to inform her about flowers。 To her they were variously
shaped and colored petals； poised； at different seasons
of the year； upon very similar green stalks； but to
him they were； in the first instance； bulbs or seeds； and
later； living things endowed with sex； and pores； and
susceptibilities which adapted themselves by all manner
of ingenious devices to live and beget life； and could be
fashioned squat or tapering； flamecolored or pale； pure
or spotted； by processes which might reveal the secrets
of human existence。 Denham spoke with increasing ardor
of a hobby which had long been his in secret。 No discourse
could have worn a more wele sound in
Katharine’s ears。 For weeks she had heard nothing that
made such pleasant music in her mind。 It wakened echoes
in all those remote fastnesses of her being where
loneliness had brooded so long undisturbed。
She wished he would go on for ever talking of plants；
and showing her how science felt not quite blindly for
the law that ruled their endless variations。 A law that
might be inscrutable but was certainly omnipotent appealed
to her at the moment； because she could find
nothing like it in possession of human lives。 Circumstances
had long forced her； as they force most women in the
flower of youth； to consider； painfully and minutely； all
that part of life which is conspicuously without order；
she had had to consider moods and wishes； degrees of
287
Night and Day
liking or disliking； and their effect upon the destiny of
people dear to her； she had been forced to deny herself
any contemplation of that other part of life where thought
constructs a destiny which is independent of human beings。
As Denham spoke； she followed his words and considered
their bearing with an easy vigor which spoke of a
capacity long hoarded and unspent。 The very trees and
the green merging into the blue distance became symbols
of the vast external world which recks so little of the
happiness； of the marriages or deaths of individuals。 In
order to give her examples of what he was saying； Denham
led the way； first to the Rock Garden； and then to the
Orchid House。
For him there was safety in the direction which the talk
had taken。 His emphasis might e from feelings more
personal than those science roused in him； but it was
disguised； and naturally he found it easy to expound and
explain。 Nevertheless； when he saw Katharine among the
orchids； her beauty strangely emphasized by the fantastic
plants； which seemed to peer and gape at her from
striped hoods and fleshy throats； his ardor for botany
waned； and a more plex feeling replaced it。 She fell
silent。 The orchids seemed to suggest absorbing reflections。
In defiance of the rules she stretched her ungloved
hand and touched one。 The sight of the rubies upon her
finger affected him so disagreeably that he started and
turned away。 But next moment he controlled himself； he
looked at her taking in one strange shape after another
with the contemplative； considering gaze of a person who
sees not exactly what is before him； but gropes in regions
that lie beyond it。 The faraway look entirely lacked
selfconsciousness。 Denham doubted whether she remembered
his presence。 He could recall himself； of course； by
a word or a movement—but why？ She was happier thus。
She needed nothing that he could give her。 And for him；
too； perhaps； it was best to keep aloof； only to know that
she existed； to preserve what he already had—perfect；
remote； and unbroken。 Further； her still look； standing
among the orchids in that hot atmosphere； strangely illustrated
some scene that he had imagined in his room
at home。 The sight； mingling with his recollection； kept
him silent when the door was shut and they were walking
288
Virginia Woolf
on again。
But though she did not speak； Katharine had an uneasy
sense that silence on her part was selfishness。 It was selfish
of her to continue； as she wished to do； a discussion of
subjects not remotely connected with any human beings。
She roused herself to consider their exact position upon
the turbulent map of the emotions。 Oh yes—it was a question
whether Ralph Denham should live in the country and
write a book； it was getting late； they must waste no more
time； Cassandra arrived tonight for dinner； she flinched
and roused herself； and discovered that she ought to be
holding something in her hands。 But they were empty。 She
held them out with an exclamation。
“I’ve left my bag somewhere—where？” The gardens had
no points of the pass； so far as she was concerned。
She had been walking for the most part on grass—that
was all she knew。 Even the road to the Orchid House had
now split itself into three。 But there was no bag in the
Orchid House。 It must； therefore； have been left upon the
seat。 They retraced their steps in the preoccupied manner
of people who have to think about something that is
lost。 What did this bag look like？ What did it contain？
“A purse—a ticket—some letters； papers；” Katharine
counted； being more agitated as she recalled the list。
Denham went on quickly in advance of her； and she heard
him shout that he had found it before she reached the
seat。 In order to make sure that all was safe she spread
the contents on her knee