requiem for the death of poetry by herself； she charmed herself into good spirits again by remembering the existence of Mozart。 She begged Cassandra to play to her； and when they went upstairs Cassandra opened the piano directly； and did her best to create an atmosphere of unmixed beauty。 At the sound of the first notes Katharine and Rodney both felt an enormous sense of relief at the license which the music gave them to loosen their hold upon the mechanism of behavior。 They lapsed into the depths of thought。 Mrs。 Hilbery was soon spirited away into a perfectly congenial mood； that was half reverie and half slumber； half delicious melancholy and half pure bliss。 Mr。 Hilbery alone attended。 He was extremely musical； and made Cassandra aware that he listened to every note。 She played her best； and won his approval。 Leaning slightly forward in his chair； and turning his little green stone； he weighed the intention of her phrases approvingly； but stopped her suddenly to plain of a noise behind him。 The window was unhasped。 He signed to Rodney； who crossed the room immediately to put the matter right。 He stayed a moment longer by the window than was； perhaps； necessary； and having done what was needed； drew his chair a little closer than before to Katharine’s side。 The music went 362 Virginia Woolf on。 Under cover of some exquisite run of melody； he leant towards her and whispered something。 She glanced at her father and mother； and a moment later left the room； almost unobserved； with Rodney。 “What is it？” she asked； as soon as the door was shut。 Rodney made no answer； but led her downstairs into the diningroom on the ground floor。 Even when he had shut the door he said nothing； but went straight to the window and parted the curtains。 He beckoned to Katharine。 “There he is again；” he said。 “Look； there—under the lamppost。” Katharine looked。 She had no idea what Rodney was talking about。 A vague feeling of alarm and mystery possessed her。 She saw a man standing on the opposite side of the road facing the house beneath a lamppost。 As they looked the figure turned； walked a few steps； and came back again to his old position。 It seemed to her that he was looking fixedly at her； and was conscious of her gaze on him。 She knew； in a flash； who the man was who was watching them。 She drew the curtain abruptly。 “Denham；” said Rodney。 “He was there last night too。” He spoke sternly。 His whole manner had bee full of authority。 Katharine felt almost as if he accused her of some crime。 She was pale and unfortably agitated； as much by the strangeness of Rodney’s behavior as by the sight of Ralph Denham。 “If he chooses to e—” she said defiantly。 “You can’t let him wait out there。 I shall tell him to e in。” Rodney spoke with such decision that when he raised his arm Katharine expected him to draw the curtain instantly。 She caught his hand with a little exclamation。 “Wait！” she cried。 “I don’t allow you。” “You can’t wait；” he replied。 “You’ve gone too far。” His hand remained upon the curtain。 “Why don’t you admit； Katharine；” he broke out； looking at her with an expression of contempt as well as of anger； “that you love him？ Are you going to treat him as you treated me？” She looked at him； wondering； in spite of all her perplexity； at the spirit that possessed him。 “I forbid you to draw the curtain；” she said。 He reflected； and then took his hand away。 “I’ve no right to interfere；” he concluded。 “I’ll leave 363 Night and Day you。 Or； if you like； we’ll go back to the drawingroom。” “No。 I can’t go back；” she said； shaking her head。 She bent her head in thought。 “You love him； Katharine；” Rodney said suddenly。 His tone had lost something of its sternness； and might have been used to urge a child to confess its fault。 She raised her eyes and fixed them upon him。 “I love him？” she repeated。 He nodded。 She searched his face； as if for further confirmation of his words； and； as he remained silent and expectant； turned away once more and continued her thoughts。 He observed her closely； but without stirring； as if he gave her time to make up her mind to fulfil her obvious duty。 The strains of Mozart reached them from the room above。 “Now；” she said suddenly； with a sort of desperation； rising from her chair and seeming to mand Rodney to fulfil his part。 He drew the curtain instantly； and she made no attempt to stop him。 Their eyes at once sought the same spot beneath the lamppost。 “He’s not there！” she exclaimed。 No one was there。 William threw the window up and looked out。 The wind rushed into the room； together with the sound of distant wheels； footsteps hurrying along the pavement； and the cries of sirens hooting down the river。 “Denham！” William cried。 “Ralph！” said Katharine； but she spoke scarcely louder than she might have spoken to some one in the same room。 With their eyes fixed upon the opposite side of the road； they did not notice a figure close to the railing which divided the garden from the street。 But Denham had crossed the road and was standing there。 They were startled by his voice close at hand。 “Rodney！” “There you are！ e in； Denham。” Rodney went to the front door and opened it。 “Here he is；” he said； bringing Ralph with him into the diningroom where Katharine stood； with her back to the open window。 Their eyes met for a second。 Denham looked half dazed by the strong light； and； buttoned in his overcoat； with his hair ruffled across his forehead by the wind； he seemed like somebody rescued from an open boat out at sea。 William promptly shut the window and drew the curtains。 He acted 364 Virginia Woolf with a cheerful decision as if he were master of the situation； and knew exactly what he meant to do。 “You’re the first to hear the news； Denham；” he said。 “Katharine isn’t going to marry me； after all。” “Where shall I put—” Ralph began vaguely； h