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Katharine had forgotten to remove this token of her stargazing。
“Fled？” she asked。 “From whom d’you mean？ Oh； the
family party。 Yes； it was hot down there； so I went into
the garden。”
“And aren’t you very cold？” Henry inquired； placing coal
on the fire； drawing a chair up to the grate； and laying
aside her cloak。 Her indifference to such details often
forced Henry to act the part generally taken by women in
such dealings。 It was one of the ties between them。
“Thank you； Henry；” she said。 “I’m not disturbing you？”
“I’m not here。 I’m at Bungay；” he replied。 “I’m giving a
music lesson to Harold and Julia。 That was why I had to
leave the table with the ladies—I’m spending the night
there； and I shan’t be back till late on Christmas Eve。”
“How I wish—” Katharine began； and stopped short。 “I
think these parties are a great mistake；” she added briefly；
and sighed。
“Oh； horrible！” he agreed； and they both fell silent。
Her sigh made him look at her。 Should he venture to
ask her why she sighed？ Was her reticence about her own
affairs as inviolable as it had often been convenient for
rather an egoistical young man to think it？ But since her
engagement to Rodney； Henry’s feeling towards her had
bee rather plex； equally divided between an impulse
to hurt her and an impulse to be tender to her； and
all the time he suffered a curious irritation from the sense
that she was drifting away from him for ever upon unknown
seas。 On her side； directly Katharine got into his
presence； and the sense of the stars dropped from her；
she knew that any intercourse between people is extremely
partial； from the whole mass of her feelings； only one or
two could be selected for Henry’s inspection； and therefore
she sighed。 Then she looked at him； and their eyes
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Night and Day
meeting； much more seemed to be in mon between them
than had appeared possible。 At any rate they had a grandfather
in mon； at any rate there was a kind of loyalty
between them sometimes found between relations who have
no other cause to like each other； as these two had。
“Well； what’s the date of the wedding？” said Henry； the
malicious mood now predominating。
“I think some time in March；” she replied。
“And afterwards？” he asked。
“We take a house； I suppose； somewhere in Chelsea。”
“It’s very interesting；” he observed； stealing another
look at her。
She lay back in her armchair； her feet high upon the
side of the grate； and in front of her； presumably to screen
her eyes； she held a newspaper from which she picked up
a sentence or two now and again。 Observing this； Henry
remarked：
“Perhaps marriage will make you more human。”
At this she lowered the newspaper an inch or two； but
said nothing。 Indeed； she sat quite silent for over a
minute。
“When you consider things like the stars； our affairs
don’t seem to matter very much； do they？” she said suddenly。
“I don’t think I ever do consider things like the stars；”
Henry replied。 “I’m not sure that that’s not the explanation；
though；” he added； now observing her steadily。
“I doubt whether there is an explanation；” she replied
rather hurriedly； not clearly understanding what he meant。
“What？ No explanation of anything？” he inquired； with
a smile。
“Oh； things happen。 That’s about all；” she let drop in
her casual； decided way。
“That certainly seems to explain some of your actions；”
Henry thought to himself。
“One thing’s about as good as another； and one’s got to
do something；” he said aloud； expressing what he supposed
to be her attitude； much in her accent。 Perhaps
she detected the imitation； for looking gently at him；
she said； with ironical posure：
“Well； if you believe that your life must be simple；
Henry。”
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Virginia Woolf
“But I don’t believe it；” he said shortly。
“No more do I；” she replied。
“What about the stars？” he asked a moment later。 “I
understand that you rule your life by the stars？”
She let this pass； either because she did not attend to
it； or because the tone was not to her liking。
Once more she paused； and then she inquired：
“But do you always understand why you do everything？
Ought one to understand？ People like my mother understand；”
she reflected。 “Now I must go down to them； I
suppose； and see what’s happening。”
“What could be happening？” Henry protested。
“Oh； they may want to settle something；” she replied
vaguely； putting her feet on the ground； resting her chin
on her hands； and looking out of her large dark eyes
contemplatively at the fire。
“And then there’s William；” she added； as if by an afterthought。
Henry very nearly laughed； but restrained himself。
“Do they know what coals are made of； Henry？” she
asked； a moment later。
“Mares’ tails； I believe；” he hazarded。
“Have you ever been down a coalmine？” she went on。
“Don’t let’s talk about coalmines； Katharine；” he pro
tested。 “We shall probably never see each other again。
When you’re married—”
Tremendously to his surprise； he saw the tears stand in
her eyes。
“Why do you all tease me？” she said。 “It isn’t kind。”
Henry could not pretend that he was altogether igno
rant of her meaning； though； certainly； he had never
guessed that she minded the teasing。 But before he knew
what to say； her eyes were clear again； and the sudden
crack in the surface was almost filled up。
“Things aren’t easy； anyhow；” she stated。
Obeying an impulse of genuine affection； Henry spoke。
“Promise me； Katharine； that if I can ever help you；
you will let me。”
She seemed to consider； looking once more into the red
of the fire； and decided to refrain from any explanation。
“Yes； I promise that；” she said at length； and Henry felt
himself gratified by her plete sincerity； and began to
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Night and Day
tell her now about the coalmine； in obedience to her
love of facts。
They were； indeed； descending the shaft in a small cag