was mystical； it plunged him into thought。 The difficulty with which even this amount was written； the inadequacy of the words； and the need of writing under them and over them others which； after all； did no better； led him to leave off before he was at ail satisfied with his production； and unable to resist the conviction that such rambling would never be fit for Katharine’s eye。 He felt himself more cut off from her than ever。 In idleness； and because he could do nothing further with words； he began to draw little figures in the blank spaces； heads meant to resemble her head； blots fringed with flames meant to represent—perhaps the entire universe。 From this occupation he was roused by the message that a lady wished to speak to him。 He had scarcely time to run his hands through his hair in order to look as much like a solicitor as possible； and to cram his papers into his pocket； already overe with shame that another eye should behold them； when he realized that his preparations were needless。 The lady was Mrs。 Hilbery。 “I hope you’re not disposing of somebody’s fortune in a hurry；” she remarked； gazing at the documents on his table； “or cutting off an entail at one blow； because I want to ask you to do me a favor。 And Anderson won’t keep his horse waiting。 （Anderson is a perfect tyrant； but he drove my dear father to the Abbey the day they buried him。） I made bold to e to you； Mr。 Denham； not exactly in search of legal assistance （though I don’t know 424 Virginia Woolf who I’d rather e to； if I were in trouble）； but in order to ask your help in settling some tiresome little domestic affairs that have arisen in my absence。 I’ve been to StratfordonAvon （I must tell you all about that one of these days）； and there I got a letter from my sisterinlaw； a dear kind goose who likes interfering with other people’s children because she’s got none of her own。 （We’re dreadfully afraid that she’s going to lose the sight of one of her eyes； and I always feel that our physical ailments are so apt to turn into mental ailments。 I think Matthew Arnold says something of the same kind about Lord Byron。） But that’s neither here nor there。” The effect of these parentheses； whether they were introduced for that purpose or represented a natural instinct on Mrs。 Hilbery’s part to embellish the bareness of her discourse； gave Ralph time to perceive that she possessed all the facts of their situation and was e； somehow； in the capacity of ambassador。 “I didn’t e here to talk about Lord Byron；” Mrs。 Hilbery continued； with a little laugh； “though I know that both you and Katharine； unlike other young people of your generation； still find him worth reading。” She paused。 “I’m so glad you’ve made Katharine read poetry； Mr。 Denham！” she exclaimed； “and feel poetry； and look poetry！ She can’t talk it yet； but she will—oh； she will！” Ralph； whose hand was grasped and whose tongue almost refused to articulate； somehow contrived to say that there were moments when he felt hopeless； utterly hopeless； though he gave no reason for this statement on his part。 “But you care for her？” Mrs。 Hilbery inquired。 “Good God！” he exclaimed； with a vehemence which admitted of no question。 “It’s the Church of England service you both object to？” Mrs。 Hilbery inquired innocently。 “I don’t care a damn what service it is；” Ralph replied。 “You would marry her in Westminster Abbey if the worst came to the worst？” Mrs。 Hilbery inquired。 “I would marry her in St。 Paul’s Cathedral；” Ralph replied。 His doubts upon this point； which were always roused by Katharine’s presence； had vanished pletely； and his strongest wish in the world was to be with her immediately； since every second he was away from her he 425 Night and Day imagined her slipping farther and farther from him into one of those states of mind in which he was unrepresented。 He wished to dominate her； to possess her。 “Thank God！” exclaimed Mrs。 Hilbery。 She thanked Him for a variety of blessings： for the conviction with which the young man spoke； and not least for the prospect that on her daughter’s weddingday the noble cadences； the stately periods； the ancient eloquence of the marriage service would resound over the heads of a distinguished congregation gathered together near the very spot where her father lay quiescent with the other poets of England。 The tears filled her eyes； but she remembered simultaneously that her carriage was waiting； and with dim eyes she walked to the door。 Denham followed her downstairs。 It was a strange drive。 For Denham it was without exception the most unpleasant he had ever taken。 His only wish was to go as straightly and quickly as possible to Cheyne Walk； but it soon appeared that Mrs。 Hilbery either ignored or thought fit to baffle this desire by interposing various errands of her own。 She stopped the carriage at postoffices； and coffeeshops； and shops of in scrutable dignity where the aged attendants had to be greeted as old friends； and； catching sight of the dome of St。 Paul’s above the irregular spires of Ludgate Hill； she pulled the cord impulsively； and gave directions that Anderson should drive them there。 But Anderson had reasons of his own for discouraging afternoon worship； and kept his horse’s nose obstinately towards the west。 After some minutes； Mrs。 Hilbery realized the situation； and accepted it goodhumoredly； apologizing to Ralph for his disappointment。 “Never mind；” she said； “we’ll go to St。 Paul’s another day； and it may turn out； though I can’t promise that it will； that he’ll take us past Westminster Abbey； which would be even better。” Ralph was scarcely aware of what she went on to say。 Her mind and body both seemed to have floated into another region of quicksailing clouds rapidly passing across each other and enveloping everything in a vaporous indistinctness。 Meanwhile he remained conscious of his own concentrated desire； hi