of meters was very great； and； if the beauty of a
drama depended upon the variety of measures in which
the personages speak； Rodney’s plays must have challenged
the works of Shakespeare。 Katharine’s ignorance
of Shakespeare did not prevent her from feeling fairly
certain that plays should not produce a sense of chill
stupor in the audience； such as overcame her as the lines
flowed on； sometimes long and sometimes short； but always
delivered with the same lilt of voice； which seemed
to nail each line firmly on to the same spot in the hearer’s
brain。 Still； she reflected； these sorts of skill are almost
exclusively masculine； women neither practice them nor
know how to value them； and one’s husband’s proficiency
in this direction might legitimately increase one’s respect
for him； since mystification is no bad basis for respect。
No one could doubt that William was a scholar。 The reading
ended with the finish of the Act； Katharine had prepared
a little speech。
“That seems to me extremely well written； William； although；
of course； I don’t know enough to criticize in
detail。”
“But it’s the skill that strikes you—not the emotion？”
“In a fragment like that； of course； the skill strikes one
most。”
“But perhaps—have you time to listen to one more
short piece？ the scene between the lovers？ There’s some
real feeling in that； I think。 Denham agrees that it’s the
best thing I’ve done。”
“You’ve read it to Ralph Denham？” Katharine inquired；
with surprise。 “He’s a better judge than I am。 What did
he say？”
“My dear Katharine；” Rodney exclaimed； “I don’t ask
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you for criticism； as I should ask a scholar。 I dare say
there are only five men in England whose opinion of my
work matters a straw to me。 But I trust you where feeling
is concerned。 I had you in my mind often when I was
writing those scenes。 I kept asking myself； ‘Now is this
the sort of thing Katharine would like？’ I always think of
you when I’m writing； Katharine； even when it’s the sort
of thing you wouldn’t know about。 And I’d rather—yes； I
really believe I’d rather—you thought well of my writing
than any one in the world。”
This was so genuine a tribute to his trust in her that
Katharine was touched。
“You think too much of me altogether； William；” she
said； forgetting that she had not meant to speak in this
way。
“No； Katharine； I don’t；” he replied； replacing his manuscript
in the drawer。 “It does me good to think of you。”
So quiet an answer； followed as it was by no expression
of love； but merely by the statement that if she must go
he would take her to the Strand； and would； if she could
wait a moment； change his dressinggown for a coat；
moved her to the warmest feeling of affection for him
that she had yet experienced。 While he changed in the
next room； she stood by the bookcase； taking down books
and opening them； but reading nothing on their pages。
She felt certain that she would marry Rodney。 How could
one avoid it？ How could one find fault with it？ Here she
sighed； and； putting the thought of marriage away； fell
into a dream state； in which she became another person；
and the whole world seemed changed。 Being a frequent
visitor to that world； she could find her way there
unhesitatingly。 If she had tried to analyze her impressions；
she would have said that there dwelt the realities
of the appearances which figure in our world； so direct；
powerful； and unimpeded were her sensations there； pared
with those called forth in actual life。 There dwelt
the things one might have felt； had there been cause；
the perfect happiness of which here we taste the fragment；
the beauty seen here in flying glimpses only。 No
doubt much of the furniture of this world was drawn directly
from the past； and even from the England of the
Elizabethan age。 However the embellishment of this imagi
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Night and Day
nary world might change； two qualities were constant in
it。 It was a place where feelings were liberated from the
constraint which the real world puts upon them； and the
process of awakenment was always marked by resignation
and a kind of stoical acceptance of facts。 She met no
acquaintance there； as Denham did； miraculously transfigured；
she played no heroic part。 But there certainly
she loved some magnanimous hero； and as they swept
together among the leafhung trees of an unknown world；
they shared the feelings which came fresh and fast as the
waves on the shore。 But the sands of her liberation were
running fast； even through the forest branches came
sounds of Rodney moving things on his dressingtable；
and Katharine woke herself from this excursion by shutting
the cover of the book she was holding； and replacing
it in the bookshelf。
“William；” she said； speaking rather faintly at first； like
one sending a voice from sleep to reach the living。 “William；”
she repeated firmly； “if you still want me to marry
you； I will。”
Perhaps it was that no man could expect to have the
most momentous question of his life settled in a voice so
level； so toneless； so devoid of joy or energy。 At any rate
William made no answer。 She waited stoically。 A moment
later he stepped briskly from his dressingroom； and observed
that if she wanted to buy more oysters he thought
he knew where they could find a fishmonger’s shop still
open。 She breathed deeply a sigh of relief。
Extract from a letter sent a few days later by Mrs。 Hilbery
to her sisterinlaw； Mrs。 Milvain：
“ … How stupid of me to forget the name in my telegram。
Such a nice； rich； English name； too； and； in addition；
he has all the graces of intellect； he has read literally
everything。 I tell Katharine； I shall always put him on
my right side at dinner； so as to have him by me when
people begin talking about characters in Shakespeare。
They won’t be rich； but they’ll be very； very happy。 I was
sitting in my room late one night； feeling that nothing
nice would ever happen to me again； when I heard
Katharine outside in the passage； and I thought to my
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self； ‘Shall I call her in？’ and then I thought （in that
hopeless； dreary way one does think； with the fire going
out and one’s birthday just over）； ‘Why should I lay my
troubles on her？’ But my little selfcontrol had its reward；
for next moment she tapped at the door and came in； and
sat on the rug； and though we neither of us said anything；
I felt so happy all of a second that I couldn’t help
crying； ‘Oh； Katharine； when you e to my age； how I
hope you’ll have a daughter； too！’ You know how silent
Katharine is。 She was so silent； for such a long time； that
in my foolish； nervous state I dreaded something； I don’t
quite know what。 And then she told me how； after all；
she had made up her mind。 She had written。 She expected
him tomorrow。 At first I wasn’t glad at all。 I didn’t
want her to marry any one； but when she said； ‘It will
make no difference。 I shall always care for you and fath