The Years (Unabridged). Вирджиния Вулф

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СКАЧАТЬ directly the cab stopped. Dr. Prentice followed him. He went straight upstairs and Morris joined them in the drawing-room.

      “Why not finish your dinner?” the Colonel said gruffly, coming to a halt and standing upright before them.

      “Oh, after he’s gone,” said Morris irritably.

      The Colonel resumed his pacing.

      Then he stopped his pacing, and stood with his hands behind him in front of the fire. He had a braced look as if he were holding himself ready for an emergency.

      We’re both acting, Delia thought to herself, stealing a glance at him, but he’s doing it better than I am.

      She looked out of the window again. The rain was falling. When it crossed the lamplight it glanced in long strips of silver light.

      “It’s raining,” she said in a low voice, but nobody answered her.

      At last they heard footsteps on the stairs and Dr. Prentice came in. He shut the door quietly but said nothing.

      “Well?” said the Colonel, facing up to him.

      There was a prolonged pause.

      “How d’you find her?” said the Colonel.

      Dr. Prentice moved his shoulders slightly.

      “She’s rallied,” he said. “For the moment,” he added.

      Delia felt as if his words struck her violently a blow on the head. She sank down on the arm of a chair.

      So you’re not going to die, she said, looking at the girl balanced on the trunk of a tree; she seemed to simper down at her daughter with smiling malice. You’re not going to die—never, never! she cried clenching her hands together beneath her mother’s picture.

      “Now, shall we get on with our dinner?” said the Colonel, taking up the napkin which he had dropped on the drawing-room table.

      It was a pity—the dinner was spoilt, Crosby thought, bringing up the cutlets from the kitchen again. The meat was dried up, and the potatoes had a brown crust on top of them. One of the candles was scorching its shade too, she observed as she put the dish down in front of the Colonel. Then she shut the door on them, and they began to eat their dinner.

      All was quiet in the house. The dog slept on its mat at the foot of the stairs. All was quiet outside the sickroom door. A faint sound of snoring came from the bedroom where Martin lay asleep. In the day nursery Mrs C. and the nurse had resumed their supper, which they had interrupted when they heard sounds in the hall below. Rose lay asleep in the night nursery. For some time she slept profoundly, curled round with the blankets tight twisted over her head. Then she stirred and stretched her arms out. Something had swum up on top of the blackness. An oval white shape hung in front of her dangling, as if it hung from a string. She half opened her eyes and looked at it. It bubbled with grey spots that went in and out. She woke completely. A face was hanging close to her as if it dangled on a bit of string. She shut her eyes; but the face was still there, bubbling in and out, grey, white, purplish and pock-marked. She put out her hand to touch the big bed next hers. But it was empty. She listened. She heard the clatter of knives and the chatter of voices in the day nursery across the passage. But she could not sleep.

      She made herself think of a flock of sheep penned up in a hurdle in a field. She made one of the sheep jump the hurdle; then another. She counted them as they jumped. One, two, three, four—they jumped over the hurdle. But the fifth sheep would not jump. It turned round and looked at her. Its long narrow face was grey; its lips moved; it was the face of the man at the pillar-box, and she was alone with it. If she shut her eyes there it was; if she opened them, there it was still.

      She sat up in bed and cried out, “Nurse! Nurse!”

      There was dead silence everywhere. The clatter of knives and forks in the next room had ceased. She was alone with something horrible. Then she heard a shuffling in the passage. It came closer and closer. It was the man himself. His hand was on the door. The door opened. An angle of light fell across the washstand. The jug and basin were lit up. The man was actually in the room with her … but it was Eleanor.

      “Why aren’t you asleep?” said Eleanor. She put down her candle and began to straighten the bedclothes. They were all crumpled up. She looked at Rose. Her eyes were very bright and her cheeks were flushed. What was the matter? Had they woken her, moving about downstairs in Mama’s room?

      “What’s been keeping you awake?” she asked. Rose yawned again; but it was a sigh rather than a yawn. She could not tell Eleanor what she had seen. She had a profound feeling of guilt; for some reason she must lie about the face she had seen.

      “I had a bad dream,” she said. “I was frightened.” A queer nervous jerk ran through her body as she sat up in bed. What was the matter? Eleanor wondered, again. Had she been fighting with Martin? Had she been chasing cats in Miss Pym’s garden again?

      “Have you been chasing cats again?” she asked. “Poor cats,” she added; “they mind it just as much as you would,” she said. But she knew that Rose’s fright had nothing to do with the cats. She was grasping her finger tightly; she was staring ahead of her with a queer look in her eyes.

      “What was your dream about?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Rose stared at her; she could not tell her; but at all costs Eleanor must be made to stay with her.

      “I thought I heard a man in the room,” she brought out at last. “A robber,” she added.

      “A robber? Here?” said Eleanor. “But Rose, how could a robber get into your nursery? There’s Papa, there’s Morris—they would never let a robber come into your room.”

      “No,” said Rose. “Papa would kill him,” she added. There was something queer about the way she twitched.

      “But what are you all doing?” she said restlessly. “Haven’t you gone to bed yet? Isn’t it very late?”

      “What are we all doing?” said Eleanor. “We’re sitting in the drawing-room. It’s not very late.” As she spoke a faint sound boomed through the room. When the wind was in the right direction they could hear St. Paul’s. The soft circles spread out in the air: one, two, three, four—Eleanor counted eight, nine, ten. She was surprised that the strokes stopped so soon.

      “There, it’s only ten o’clock, you see,” she said. It had seemed to her much later. But the last stroke dissolved in the air. “So now you’ll go to sleep,” she said. Rose clutched her hand.

      “Don’t go, Eleanor; not yet,” she implored her.

      “But tell me, what’s frightened you?” Eleanor began. Something was being hidden from her, she was sure.

      “I saw…” Rose began. She made a great effort to tell her the truth; to tell her about the man at the pillar-box. “I saw…” she repeated. But here the door opened and Nurse came in.

      “I don’t know what’s come over Rosie tonight,” she said, bustling in. She felt a little guilty; she had stayed downstairs with the other servants gossiping about the mistress.

      “She sleeps so sound generally,” she said, coming over to the bed.

      “Now, here’s Nurse,” СКАЧАТЬ