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something that hasn’t got to do with human beings。 I
don’t want people particularly。 In some ways； Henry； I’m
a humbug—I mean； I’m not what you all take me for。 I’m
not domestic； or very practical or sensible； really。 And if I
could calculate things； and use a telescope； and have to
work out figures； and know to a fraction where I was
wrong； I should be perfectly happy； and I believe I should
give William all he wants。”
Having reached this point； instinct told her that she
had passed beyond the region in which Henry’s advice
could be of any good； and； having rid her mind of its
superficial annoyance； she sat herself upon the stone seat；
raised her eyes unconsciously and thought about the
deeper questions which she had to decide； she knew； for
herself。 Would she； indeed； give William all he wanted？
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Virginia Woolf
In order to decide the question； she ran her mind rapidly
over her little collection of significant sayings； looks；
pliments； gestures； which had marked their intercourse
during the last day or two。 He had been annoyed because
a box； containing some clothes specially chosen by him
for her to wear； had been taken to the wrong station；
owing to her neglect in the matter of labels。 The box had
arrived in the nick of time； and he had remarked； as she
came downstairs on the first night； that he had never
seen her look more beautiful。 She outshone all her cousins。
He had discovered that she never made an ugly movement；
he also said that the shape of her head made it
possible for her； unlike most women； to wear her hair
low。 He had twice reproved her for being silent at dinner；
and once for never attending to what he said。 He had
been surprised at the excellence of her French accent；
but he thought it was selfish of her not to go with her
mother to call upon the Middletons； because they were
old family friends and very nice people。 On the whole；
the balance was nearly even； and； writing down a kind of
conclusion in her mind which finished the sum for the
present； at least； she changed the focus of her eyes； and
saw nothing but the stars。
Tonight they seemed fixed with unusual firmness in
the blue； and flashed back such a ripple of light into her
eyes that she found herself thinking that tonight the
stars were happy。 Without knowing or caring more for
Church practices than most people of her age； Katharine
could not look into the sky at Christmas time without
feeling that； at this one season； the Heavens bend over
the earth with sympathy； and signal with immortal radiance
that they； too； take part in her festival。 Somehow； it
seemed to her that they were even now beholding the
procession of kings and wise men upon some road on a
distant part of the earth。 And yet； after gazing for another
second； the stars did their usual work upon the
mind； froze to cinders the whole of our short human history；
and reduced the human body to an apelike； furry
form； crouching amid the brushwood of a barbarous clod
of mud。 This stage was soon succeeded by another； in
which there was nothing in the universe save stars and
the light of stars； as she looked up the pupils of her eyes
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Night and Day
so dilated with starlight that the whole of her seemed
dissolved in silver and spilt over the ledges of the stars
for ever and ever indefinitely through space。 Somehow
simultaneously； though incongruously； she was riding with
the magnanimous hero upon the shore or under forest
trees； and so might have continued were it not for the
rebuke forcibly administered by the body； which； content
with the normal conditions of life； in no way furthers any
attempt on the part of the mind to alter them。 She grew
cold； shook herself； rose； and walked towards the house。
By the light of the stars； Stogdon House looked pale
and romantic； and about twice its natural size。 Built by a
retired admiral in the early years of the nieenth century；
the curving bow windows of the front； now filled
with reddishyellow light； suggested a portly threedecker；
sailing seas where those dolphins and narwhals who disport
themselves upon the edges of old maps were scattered
with an impartial hand。 A semicircular flight of shallow
steps led to a very large door； which Katharine had
left ajar。 She hesitated； cast her eyes over the front of
the house； marked that a light burnt in one small window
upon an upper floor； and pushed the door open。 For a
moment she stood in the square hall； among many horned
skulls； sallow globes； cracked oilpaintings； and stuffed
owls； hesitating； it seemed； whether she should open the
door on her right； through which the stir of life reached
her ears。 Listening for a moment； she heard a sound which
decided her； apparently； not to enter； her uncle； Sir Francis；
was playing his nightly game of whist； it appeared probable
that he was losing。
She went up the curving stairway； which represented
the one attempt at ceremony in the otherwise rather dilapidated
mansion； and down a narrow passage until she
came to the room whose light she had seen from the
garden。 Knocking； she was told to e in。 A young man；
Henry Otway； was reading； with his feet on the fender。
He had a fine head； the brow arched in the Elizabethan
manner； but the gentle； honest eyes were rather skeptical
than glowing with the Elizabethan vigor。 He gave the
impression that he had not yet found the cause which
suited his temperament。
He turned； put down his book； and looked at her。 He
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Virginia Woolf
noticed her rather pale； dewdrenched look； as of one
whose mind is not altogether settled in the body。 He had
often laid his difficulties before her； and guessed； in some
ways hoped； that perhaps she now had need of him。 At
the same time； she carried on her life with such independence
that he scarcely expected any confidence to be
expressed in words。
“You have fled； too； then？” he said； looking at her cloak。
Katharine had forgotten to remove this token of her stargazing。
“Fled？” she asked。 “From whom d’you mean？