The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Deluxe Edition Anne Bronte chapter 05

It was about the close of the month, that, yielding at length to
the urgent importunities of Rose, I accompanied her in a visit to
Wildfell Hall.  To our surprise, we were ushered into a room where
the first object that met the eye was a painter's easel, with a
table beside it covered with rolls of canvas, bottles of oil and
varnish, palette, brushes, paints, &c.  Leaning against the wall
were several sketches in various stages of progression, and a few
finished paintings - mostly of landscapes and figures.

'I must make you welcome to my studio,' said Mrs. Graham; 'there is
no fire in the sitting-room to-day, and it is rather too cold to
show you into a place with an empty grate.'

And disengaging a couple of chairs from the artistical lumber that
usurped them, she bid us be seated, and resumed her place beside
the easel - not facing it exactly, but now and then glancing at the
picture upon it while she conversed, and giving it an occasional
touch with her brush, as if she found it impossible to wean her
attention entirely from her occupation to fix it upon her guests.
It was a view of Wildfell Hall, as seen at early morning from the
field below, rising in dark relief against a sky of clear silvery
blue, with a few red streaks on the horizon, faithfully drawn and
coloured, and very elegantly and artistically handled.

'I see your heart is in your work, Mrs. Graham,' observed I:  'I
must beg you to go on with it; for if you suffer our presence to
interrupt you, we shall be constrained to regard ourselves as
unwelcome intruders.'

'Oh, no!' replied she, throwing her brush on to the table, as if
startled into politeness.  'I am not so beset with visitors but
that I can readily spare a few minutes to the few that do favour me
with their company.'

'You have almost completed your painting,' said I, approaching to
observe it more closely, and surveying it with a greater degree of
admiration and delight than I cared to express.  'A few more
touches in the foreground will finish it, I should think.  But why
have you called it Fernley Manor, Cumberland, instead of Wildfell
Hall, -shire?' I asked, alluding to the name she had traced in
small characters at the bottom of the canvas.

But immediately I was sensible of having committed an act of
impertinence in so doing; for she coloured and hesitated; but after
a moment's pause, with a kind of desperate frankness, she replied:-

'Because I have friends - acquaintances at least - in the world,
from whom I desire my present abode to be concealed; and as they
might see the picture, and might possibly recognise the style in
spite of the false initials I have put in the corner, I take the
precaution to give a false name to the place also, in order to put
them on a wrong scent, if they should attempt to trace me out by
it.'

'Then you don't intend to keep the picture?' said I, anxious to say
anything to change the subject.

'No; I cannot afford to paint for my own amusement.'

'Mamma sends all her pictures to London,' said Arthur; 'and
somebody sells them for her there, and sends us the money.'

In looking round upon the other pieces, I remarked a pretty sketch
of Linden-hope from the top of the hill; another view of the old
hall basking in the sunny haze of a quiet summer afternoon; and a
simple but striking little picture of a child brooding, with looks
of silent but deep and sorrowful regret, over a handful of withered
flowers, with glimpses of dark low hills and autumnal fields behind
it, and a dull beclouded sky above.

'You see there is a sad dearth of subjects,' observed the fair
artist.  'I took the old hall once on a moonlight night, and I
suppose I must take it again on a snowy winter's day, and then
again on a dark cloudy evening; for I really have nothing else to
paint.  I have been told that you have a fine view of the sea
somewhere in the neighbourhood.  Is it true? - and is it within
walking distance?'

'Yes, if you don't object to walking four miles - or nearly so -
little short of eight miles, there and back - and over a somewhat
rough, fatiguing road.'

'In what direction does it lie?'

I described the situation as well as I could, and was entering upon
an explanation of the various roads, lanes, and fields to be
traversed in order to reach it, the goings straight on, and
turnings to the right and the left, when she checked me with, -

'Oh, stop! don't tell me now:  I shall forget every word of your
directions before I require them.  I shall not think about going
till next spring; and then, perhaps, I may trouble you.  At present
we have the winter before us, and - '

She suddenly paused, with a suppressed exclamation, started up from
her seat, and saying, 'Excuse me one moment,' hurried from the
room, and shut the door behind her.

Curious to see what had startled her so, I looked towards the
window - for her eyes had been carelessly fixed upon it the moment
before - and just beheld the skirts of a man's coat vanishing
behind a large holly-bush that stood between the window and the
porch.

'It's mamma's friend,' said Arthur.

Rose and I looked at each other.

'I don't know what to make of her at all,' whispered Rose.

The child looked at her in grave surprise.  She straightway began
to talk to him on indifferent matters, while I amused myself with
looking at the pictures.  There was one in an obscure corner that I
had not before observed.  It was a little child, seated on the
grass with its lap full of flowers.  The tiny features and large
blue eyes, smiling through a shock of light brown curls, shaken
over the forehead as it bent above its treasure, bore sufficient
resemblance to those of the young gentleman before me to proclaim
it a portrait of Arthur Graham in his early infancy.

In taking this up to bring it to the light, I discovered another
behind it, with its face to the wall.  I ventured to take that up
too.  It was the portrait of a gentleman in the full prime of
youthful manhood - handsome enough, and not badly executed; but if
done by the same hand as the others, it was evidently some years
before; for there was far more careful minuteness of detail, and
less of that freshness of colouring and freedom of handling that
delighted and surprised me in them.  Nevertheless, I surveyed it
with considerable interest.  There was a certain individuality in
the features and expression that stamped it, at once, a successful
likeness.  The bright blue eyes regarded the spectator with a kind
of lurking drollery - you almost expected to see them wink; the
lips - a little too voluptuously full - seemed ready to break into
a smile; the warmly-tinted cheeks were embellished with a luxuriant
growth of reddish whiskers; while the bright chestnut hair,
clustering in abundant, wavy curls, trespassed too much upon the
forehead, and seemed to intimate that the owner thereof was prouder
of his beauty than his intellect - as, perhaps, he had reason to
be; and yet he looked no fool.

I had not had the portrait in my hands two minutes before the fair
artist returned.

'Only some one come about the pictures,' said she, in apology for
her abrupt departure:  'I told him to wait.'

'I fear it will be considered an act of impertinence,' said 'to
presume to look at a picture that the artist has turned to the
wall; but may I ask -'

'It is an act of very great impertinence, sir; and therefore I beg
you will ask nothing about it, for your curiosity will not be
gratified,' replied she, attempting to cover the tartness of her
rebuke with a smile; but I could see, by her flushed cheek and
kindling eye, that she was seriously annoyed.

'I was only going to ask if you had painted it yourself,' said I,
sulkily resigning the picture into her hands; for without a grain
of ceremony she took it from me; and quickly restoring it to the
dark corner, with its face to the wall, placed the other against it
as before, and then turned to me and laughed.

But I was in no humour for jesting.  I carelessly turned to the
window, and stood looking out upon the desolate garden, leaving her
to talk to Rose for a minute or two; and then, telling my sister it
was time to go, shook hands with the little gentleman, coolly bowed
to the lady, and moved towards the door.  But, having bid adieu to
Rose, Mrs. Graham presented her hand to me, saying, with a soft
voice, and by no means a disagreeable smile, - 'Let not the sun go
down upon your wrath, Mr. Markham.  I'm sorry I offended you by my
abruptness.'

When a lady condescends to apologise, there is no keeping one's
anger, of course; so we parted good friends for once; and this time
I squeezed her hand with a cordial, not a spiteful pressure.



The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Deluxe Edition Anne Bronte chapter 06



During the next four months I did not enter Mrs. Graham's house,
nor she mine; but still the ladies continued to talk about her, and
still our acquaintance continued, though slowly, to advance.  As
for their talk, I paid but little attention to that (when it
related to the fair hermit, I mean), and the only information I
derived from it was, that one fine frosty day she had ventured to
take her little boy as far as the vicarage, and that,
unfortunately, nobody was at home but Miss Millward; nevertheless,
she had sat a long time, and, by all accounts, they had found a
good deal to say to each other, and parted with a mutual desire to
meet again.  But Mary liked children, and fond mammas like those
who can duly appreciate their treasures.

But sometimes I saw her myself, not only when she came to church,
but when she was out on the hills with her son, whether taking a
long, purpose-like walk, or - on special fine days - leisurely
rambling over the moor or the bleak pasture-lands, surrounding the
old hall, herself with a book in her hand, her son gambolling about
her; and, on any of these occasions, when I caught sight of her in
my solitary walks or rides, or while following my agricultural
pursuits, I generally contrived to meet or overtake her, for I
rather liked to see Mrs. Graham, and to talk to her, and I
decidedly liked to talk to her little companion, whom, when once
the ice of his shyness was fairly broken, I found to be a very
amiable, intelligent, and entertaining little fellow; and we soon
became excellent friends - how much to the gratification of his
mamma I cannot undertake to say.  I suspected at first that she was
desirous of throwing cold water on this growing intimacy - to
quench, as it were, the kindling flame of our friendship - but
discovering, at length, in spite of her prejudice against me, that
I was perfectly harmless, and even well-intentioned, and that,
between myself and my dog, her son derived a great deal of pleasure
from the acquaintance that he would not otherwise have known, she
ceased to object, and even welcomed my coming with a smile.

As for Arthur, he would shout his welcome from afar, and run to
meet me fifty yards from his mother's side.  If I happened to be on
horseback he was sure to get a canter or a gallop; or, if there was
one of the draught horses within an available distance, he was
treated to a steady ride upon that, which served his turn almost as
well; but his mother would always follow and trudge beside him -
not so much, I believe, to ensure his safe conduct, as to see that
I instilled no objectionable notions into his infant mind, for she
was ever on the watch, and never would allow him to be taken out of
her sight.  What pleased her best of all was to see him romping and
racing with Sancho, while I walked by her side - not, I fear, for
love of my company (though I sometimes deluded myself with that
idea), so much as for the delight she took in seeing her son thus
happily engaged in the enjoyment of those active sports so
invigorating to his tender frame, yet so seldom exercised for want
of playmates suited to his years:  and, perhaps, her pleasure was
sweetened not a little by the fact of my being with her instead of
with him, and therefore incapable of doing him any injury directly
or indirectly, designedly or otherwise, small thanks to her for
that same.

But sometimes, I believe, she really had some little gratification
in conversing with me; and one bright February morning, during
twenty minutes' stroll along the moor, she laid aside her usual
asperity and reserve, and fairly entered into conversation with me,
discoursing with so much eloquence and depth of thought and feeling
on a subject happily coinciding with my own ideas, and looking so
beautiful withal, that I went home enchanted; and on the way
(morally) started to find myself thinking that, after all, it
would, perhaps, be better to spend one's days with such a woman
than with Eliza Millward; and then I (figuratively) blushed for my
inconstancy.

On entering the parlour I found Eliza there with Rose, and no one
else.  The surprise was not altogether so agreeable as it ought to
have been.  We chatted together a long time, but I found her rather
frivolous, and even a little insipid, compared with the more mature
and earnest Mrs. Graham.  Alas, for human constancy!

'However,' thought I, 'I ought not to marry Eliza, since my mother
so strongly objects to it, and I ought not to delude the girl with
the idea that I intended to do so.  Now, if this mood continue, I
shall have less difficulty in emancipating my affections from her
soft yet unrelenting sway; and, though Mrs. Graham might be equally
objectionable, I may be permitted, like the doctors, to cure a
greater evil by a less, for I shall not fall seriously in love with
the young widow, I think, nor she with me - that's certain - but if
I find a little pleasure in her society I may surely be allowed to
seek it; and if the star of her divinity be bright enough to dim
the lustre of Eliza's, so much the better, but I scarcely can think
it.'

And thereafter I seldom suffered a fine day to pass without paying
a visit to Wildfell about the time my new acquaintance usually left
her hermitage; but so frequently was I baulked in my expectations
of another interview, so changeable was she in her times of coming
forth and in her places of resort, so transient were the occasional
glimpses I was able to obtain, that I felt half inclined to think
she took as much pains to avoid my company as I to seek hers; but
this was too disagreeable a supposition to be entertained a moment
after it could conveniently be dismissed.

One calm, clear afternoon, however, in March, as I was
superintending the rolling of the meadow-land, and the repairing of
a hedge in the valley, I saw Mrs. Graham down by the brook, with a
sketch-book in her hand, absorbed in the exercise of her favourite
art, while Arthur was putting on the time with constructing dams
and breakwaters in the shallow, stony stream.  I was rather in want
of amusement, and so rare an opportunity was not to be neglected;
so, leaving both meadow and hedge, I quickly repaired to the spot,
but not before Sancho, who, immediately upon perceiving his young
friend, scoured at full gallop the intervening space, and pounced
upon him with an impetuous mirth that precipitated the child almost
into the middle of the beck; but, happily, the stones preserved him
from any serious wetting, while their smoothness prevented his
being too much hurt to laugh at the untoward event.

Mrs. Graham was studying the distinctive characters of the
different varieties of trees in their winter nakedness, and
copying, with a spirited, though delicate touch, their various
ramifications.  She did not talk much, but I stood and watched the
progress of her pencil:  it was a pleasure to behold it so
dexterously guided by those fair and graceful fingers.  But ere
long their dexterity became impaired, they began to hesitate, to
tremble slightly, and make false strokes, and then suddenly came to
a pause, while their owner laughingly raised her face to mine, and
told me that her sketch did not profit by my superintendence.

'Then,' said I, 'I'll talk to Arthur till you've done.'

'I should like to have a ride, Mr. Markham, if mamma will let me,'
said the child.

'What on, my boy?'

'I think there's a horse in that field,' replied he, pointing to
where the strong black mare was pulling the roller.

'No, no, Arthur; it's too far,' objected his mother.

But I promised to bring him safe back after a turn or two up and
down the meadow; and when she looked at his eager face she smiled
and let him go.  It was the first time she had even allowed me to
take him so much as half a field's length from her side.

Enthroned upon his monstrous steed, and solemnly proceeding up and
down the wide, steep field, he looked the very incarnation of
quiet, gleeful satisfaction and delight.  The rolling, however, was
soon completed; but when I dismounted the gallant horseman, and
restored him to his mother, she seemed rather displeased at my
keeping him so long.  She had shut up her sketch-book, and been,
probably, for some minutes impatiently waiting his return.

It was now high time to go home, she said, and would have bid me
good-evening, but I was not going to leave her yet:  I accompanied
her half-way up the hill.  She became more sociable, and I was
beginning to be very happy; but, on coming within sight of the grim
old hall, she stood still, and turned towards me while she spoke,
as if expecting I should go no further, that the conversation would
end here, and I should now take leave and depart - as, indeed, it
was time to do, for 'the clear, cold eve' was fast 'declining,' the
sun had set, and the gibbous moon was visibly brightening in the
pale grey sky; but a feeling almost of compassion riveted me to the
spot.  It seemed hard to leave her to such a lonely, comfortless
home.  I looked up at it.  Silent and grim it frowned; before us.
A faint, red light was gleaming from the lower windows of one wing,
but all the other windows were in darkness, and many exhibited
their black, cavernous gulfs, entirely destitute of glazing or
framework.

'Do you not find it a desolate place to live in?' said I, after a
moment of silent contemplation.

'I do, sometimes,' replied she.  'On winter evenings, when Arthur
is in bed, and I am sitting there alone, hearing the bleak wind
moaning round me and howling through the ruinous old chambers, no
books or occupations can represss the dismal thoughts and
apprehensions that come crowding in - but it is folly to give way
to such weakness, I know.  If Rachel is satisfied with such a life,
why should not I? - Indeed, I cannot be too thankful for such an
asylum, while it is left me.'

The closing sentence was uttered in an under-tone, as if spoken
rather to herself than to me.  She then bid me good-evening and
withdrew.

I had not proceeded many steps on my way homewards when I perceived
Mr. Lawrence, on his pretty grey pony, coming up the rugged lane
that crossed over the hill-top.  I went a little out of my way to
speak to him; for we had not met for some time.

'Was that Mrs. Graham you were speaking to just now?' said he,
after the first few words of greeting had passed between us.

'Yes.'

'Humph!  I thought so.'  He looked contemplatively at his horse's
mane, as if he had some serious cause of dissatisfaction with it,
or something else.

'Well! what then?'

'Oh, nothing!' replied he.  'Only I thought you disliked her,' he
quietly added, curling his classic lip with a slightly sarcastic
smile.

'Suppose I did; mayn't a man change his mind on further
acquaintance?'

'Yes, of course,' returned he, nicely reducing an entanglement in
the pony's redundant hoary mane.  Then suddenly turning to me, and
fixing his shy, hazel eyes upon me with a steady penetrating gaze,
he added, 'Then you have changed your mind?'

'I can't say that I have exactly.  No; I think I hold the same
opinion respecting her as before - but slightly ameliorated.'

'Oh!'  He looked round for something else to talk about; and
glancing up at the moon, made some remark upon the beauty of the
evening, which I did not answer, as being irrelevant to the
subject.

'Lawrence,' said I, calmly looking him in the face, 'are you in
love with Mrs. Graham?'

Instead of his being deeply offended at this, as I more than half
expected he would, the first start of surprise, at the audacious
question, was followed by a tittering laugh, as if he was highly
amused at the idea.

'I in love with her!' repeated he.  'What makes you dream of such a
thing?'

'From the interest you take in the progress of my acquaintance with
the lady, and the changes of my opinion concerning her, I thought
you might be jealous.'

He laughed again.  'Jealous! no.  But I thought you were going to
marry Eliza Millward.'

'You thought wrong, then; I am not going to marry either one or the
other - that I know of - '

'Then I think you'd better let them alone.'

'Are you going to marry Jane Wilson?'

He coloured, and played with the mane again, but answered - 'No, I
think not.'

'Then you had better let her alone.'

'She won't let me alone,' he might have said; but he only looked
silly and said nothing for the space of half a minute, and then
made another attempt to turn the conversation; and this time I let
it pass; for he had borne enough:  another word on the subject
would have been like the last atom that breaks the camel's. back.

I was too late for tea; but my mother had kindly kept the teapot
and muffin warm upon the hobs, and, though she scolded me a little,
readily admitted my excuses; and when I complained of the flavour
of the overdrawn tea, she poured the remainder into the slop-basin,
and bade Rose put some fresh into the pot, and reboil the kettle,
which offices were performed with great commotion, and certain
remarkable comments.

'Well! - if it had been me now, I should have had no tea at all -
if it had been Fergus, even, he would have to put up with such as
there was, and been told to be thankful, for it was far too good
for him; but you - we can't do too much for you.  It's always so -
if there's anything particularly nice at table, mamma winks and
nods at me to abstain from it, and if I don't attend to that, she
whispers, "Don't eat so much of that, Rose; Gilbert will like it
for his supper." - I'm nothing at all.  In the parlour, it's "Come,
Rose, put away your things, and let's have the room nice and tidy
against they come in; and keep up a good fire; Gilbert likes a
cheerful fire."  In the kitchen - "Make that pie a large one, Rose;
I daresay the boys'll be hungry; and don't put so much pepper in,
they'll not like it, I'm sure" - or, "Rose, don't put so many
spices in the pudding, Gilbert likes it plain," - or, "Mind you put
plenty of currants in the cake, Fergus liked plenty."  If I say,
"Well, mamma, I don't," I'm told I ought not to think of myself.
"You know, Rose, in all household matters, we have only two things
to consider, first, what's proper to be done; and, secondly, what's
most agreeable to the gentlemen of the house - anything will do for
the ladies."'

'And very good doctrine too,' said my mother.  'Gilbert thinks so,
I'm sure.'

'Very convenient doctrine, for us, at all events,' said I; 'but if
you would really study my pleasure, mother, you must consider your
own comfort and convenience a little more than you do - as for
Rose, I have no doubt she'll take care of herself; and whenever she
does make a sacrifice or perform a remarkable act of devotedness,
she'll take good care to let me know the extent of it.  But for you
I might sink into the grossest condition of self-indulgence and
carelessness about the wants of others, from the mere habit of
being constantly cared for myself, and having all my wants
anticipated or immediately supplied, while left in total ignorance
of what is done for me, - if Rose did not enlighten me now and
then; and I should receive all your kindness as a matter of course,
and never know how much I owe you.'

'Ah! and you never will know, Gilbert, till you're married.  Then,
when you've got some trifling, self-conceited girl like Eliza
Millward, careless of everything but her own immediate pleasure and
advantage, or some misguided, obstinate woman, like Mrs. Graham,
ignorant of her principal duties, and clever only in what concerns
her least to know - then you'll find the difference.'

'It will do me good, mother; I was not sent into the world merely
to exercise the good capacities and good feelings of others - was
I? - but to exert my own towards them; and when I marry, I shall
expect to find more pleasure in making my wife happy and
comfortable, than in being made so by her:  I would rather give
than receive.'

'Oh! that's all nonsense, my dear.  It's mere boy's talk that!
You'll soon tire of petting and humouring your wife, be she ever so
charming, and then comes the trial.'

'Well, then, we must bear one another's burdens.'

'Then you must fall each into your proper place.  You'll do your
business, and she, if she's worthy of you, will do hers; but it's
your business to please yourself, and hers to please you.  I'm sure
your poor, dear father was as good a husband as ever lived, and
after the first six months or so were over, I should as soon have
expected him to fly, as to put himself out of his way to pleasure
me.  He always said I was a good wife, and did my duty; and he
always did his - bless him! - he was steady and punctual, seldom
found fault without a reason, always did justice to my good
dinners, and hardly ever spoiled my cookery by delay - and that's
as much as any woman can expect of any man.'

Is it so, Halford?  Is that the extent of your domestic virtues;
and does your happy wife exact no more?



The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Deluxe Edition Anne Bronte chapter 07



Not many days after this, on a mild sunny morning - rather soft
under foot; for the last fall of snow was only just wasted away,
leaving yet a thin ridge, here and there, lingering on the fresh
green grass beneath the hedges; but beside them already, the young
primroses were peeping from among their moist, dark foliage, and
the lark above was singing of summer, and hope, and love, and every
heavenly thing - I was out on the hill-side, enjoying these
delights, and looking after the well-being of my young lambs and
their mothers, when, on glancing round me, I beheld three persons
ascending from the vale below.  They were Eliza Millward, Fergus,
and Rose; so I crossed the field to meet them; and, being told they
were going to Wildfell Hall, I declared myself willing to go with
them, and offering my arm to Eliza, who readily accepted it in lieu
of my brother's, told the latter he might go back, for I would
accompany the ladies.

'I beg your pardon!' exclaimed he.  'It's the ladies that are
accompanying me, not I them.  You had all had a peep at this
wonderful stranger but me, and I could endure my wretched ignorance
no longer - come what would, I must be satisfied; so I begged Rose
to go with me to the Hall, and introduce me to her at once.  She
swore she would not, unless Miss Eliza would go too; so I ran to
the vicarage and fetched her; and we've come hooked all the way, as
fond as a pair of lovers - and now you've taken her from me; and
you want to deprive me of my walk and my visit besides.  Go back to
your fields and your cattle, you lubberly fellow; you're not fit to
associate with ladies and gentlemen like us, that have nothing to
do but to run snooking about to our neighbours' houses, peeping
into their private corners, and scenting out their secrets, and
picking holes in their coats, when we don't find them ready made to
our hands - you don't understand such refined sources of
enjoyment.'

'Can't you both go?' suggested Eliza, disregarding the latter half
of the speech.

'Yes, both, to be sure!' cried Rose; 'the more the merrier - and
I'm sure we shall want all the cheerfulness we can carry with us to
that great, dark, gloomy room, with its narrow latticed windows,
and its dismal old furniture - unless she shows us into her studio
again.'

So we went all in a body; and the meagre old maid-servant, that
opened the door, ushered us into an apartment such as Rose had
described to me as the scene of her first introduction to Mrs.
Graham, a tolerably spacious and lofty room, but obscurely lighted
by the old-fashioned windows, the ceiling, panels, and chimney-
piece of grim black oak - the latter elaborately but not very
tastefully carved, - with tables and chairs to match, an old
bookcase on one side of the fire-place, stocked with a motley
assemblage of books, and an elderly cabinet piano on the other.

The lady was seated in a stiff, high-backed arm-chair, with a small
round table, containing a desk and a work-basket on one side of
her, and her little boy on the other, who stood leaning his elbow
on her knee, and reading to her, with wonderful fluency, from a
small volume that lay in her lap; while she rested her hand on his
shoulder, and abstractedly played with the long, wavy curls that
fell on his ivory neck.  They struck me as forming a pleasing
contrast to all the surrounding objects; but of course their
position was immediately changed on our entrance.  I could only
observe the picture during the few brief seconds that Rachel held
the door for our admittance.

I do not think Mrs. Graham was particularly delighted to see us:
there was something indescribably chilly in her quiet, calm
civility; but I did not talk much to her.  Seating myself near the
window, a little back from the circle, I called Arthur to me, and
he and I and Sancho amused ourselves very pleasantly together,
while the two young ladies baited his mother with small talk, and
Fergus sat opposite with his legs crossed and his hands in his
breeches-pockets, leaning back in his chair, and staring now up at
the ceiling, now straight forward at his hostess (in a manner that
made me strongly inclined to kick him out of the room), now
whistling sotto voce to himself a snatch of a favourite air, now
interrupting the conversation, or filling up a pause (as the case
might be) with some most impertinent question or remark.  At one
time it was, - 'It, amazes me, Mrs. Graham, how you could choose
such a dilapidated, rickety old place as this to live in.  If you
couldn't afford to occupy the whole house, and have it mended up,
why couldn't you take a neat little cottage?'

'Perhaps I was too proud, Mr. Fergus,' replied she, smiling;
'perhaps I took a particular fancy for this romantic, old-fashioned
place - but, indeed, it has many advantages over a cottage - in the
first place, you see, the rooms are larger and more airy; in the
second place, the unoccupied apartments, which I don't pay for, may
serve as lumber-rooms, if I have anything to put in them; and they
are very useful for my little boy to run about in on rainy days
when he can't go out; and then there is the garden for him to play
in, and for me to work in.  You see I have effected some little
improvement already,' continued she, turning to the window.  'There
is a bed of young vegetables in that corner, and here are some
snowdrops and primroses already in bloom - and there, too, is a
yellow crocus just opening in the sunshine.'

'But then how can you bear such a situation - your nearest
neighbours two miles distant, and nobody looking in or passing by?
Rose would go stark mad in such a place.  She can't put on life
unless she sees half a dozen fresh gowns and bonnets a day - not to
speak of the faces within; but you might sit watching at these
windows all day long, and never see so much as an old woman
carrying her eggs to market.'

'I am not sure the loneliness of the place was not one of its chief
recommendations.  I take no pleasure in watching people pass the
windows; and I like to be quiet.'

'Oh! as good as to say you wish we would all of us mind our own
business, and let you alone.'

'No, I dislike an extensive acquaintance; but if I have a few
friends, of course I am glad to see them occasionally.  No one can
be happy in eternal solitude.  Therefore, Mr. Fergus, if you choose
to enter my house as a friend, I will make you welcome; if not, I
must confess, I would rather you kept away.'  She then turned and
addressed some observation to Rose or Eliza.

'And, Mrs. Graham,' said he again, five minutes after, 'we were
disputing, as we came along, a question that you can readily decide
for us, as it mainly regarded yourself - and, indeed, we often hold
discussions about you; for some of us have nothing better to do
than to talk about our neighbours' concerns, and we, the indigenous
plants of the soil, have known each other so long, and talked each
other over so often, that we are quite sick of that game; so that a
stranger coming amongst us makes an invaluable addition to our
exhausted sources of amusement.  Well, the question, or questions,
you are requested to solve - '

'Hold your tongue, Fergus!' cried Rose, in a fever of apprehension
and wrath.

'I won't, I tell you.  The questions you are requested to solve are
these:- First, concerning your birth, extraction, and previous
residence.  Some will have it that you are a foreigner, and some an
Englishwoman; some a native of the north country, and some of the
south; some say - '

'Well, Mr. Fergus, I'll tell you.  I'm an Englishwoman - and I
don't see why any one should doubt it - and I was born in the
country, neither in the extreme north nor south of our happy isle;
and in the country I have chiefly passed my life, and now I hope
you are satisfied; for I am not disposed to answer any more
questions at present.'

'Except this - '

'No, not one more!' laughed she, and, instantly quitting her seat,
she sought refuge at the window by which I was seated, and, in very
desperation, to escape my brother's persecutions, endeavoured to
draw me into conversation.

'Mr. Markham,' said she, her rapid utterance and heightened colour
too plainly evincing her disquietude, 'have you forgotten the fine
sea-view we were speaking of some time ago?  I think I must trouble
you, now, to tell me the nearest way to it; for if this beautiful
weather continue, I shall, perhaps, be able to walk there, and take
my sketch; I have exhausted every other subject for painting; and I
long to see it.'

I was about to comply with her request, but Rose would not suffer
me to proceed.

'Oh, don't tell her, Gilbert!' cried she; 'she shall go with us.
It's - Bay you are thinking about, I suppose, Mrs. Graham?  It is a
very long walk, too far for you, and out of the question for
Arthur.  But we were thinking about making a picnic to see it some
fine day; and, if you will wait till the settled fine weather
comes, I'm sure we shall all be delighted to have you amongst us.'

Poor Mrs. Graham looked dismayed, and attempted to make excuses,
but Rose, either compassionating her lonely life, or anxious to
cultivate her acquaintance, was determined to have her; and every
objection was overruled.  She was told it would only be a small
party, and all friends, and that the best view of all was from -
Cliffs, full five miles distant.

'Just a nice walk for the gentlemen,' continued Rose; 'but the
ladies will drive and walk by turns; for we shall have our pony-
carriage, which will be plenty large enough to contain little
Arthur and three ladies, together with your sketching apparatus,
and our provisions.'

So the proposal was finally acceded to; and, after some further
discussion respecting the time and manner of the projected
excursion, we rose, and took our leave.

But this was only March:  a cold, wet April, and two weeks of May
passed over before we could venture forth on our expedition with
the reasonable hope of obtaining that pleasure we sought in
pleasant prospects, cheerful society, fresh air, good cheer and
exercise, without the alloy of bad roads, cold winds, or
threatening clouds.  Then, on a glorious morning, we gathered our
forces and set forth.  The company consisted of Mrs. and Master
Graham, Mary and Eliza Millward, Jane and Richard Wilson, and Rose,
Fergus, and Gilbert Markham.

Mr. Lawrence had been invited to join us, but, for some reason best
known to himself, had refused to give us his company.  I had
solicited the favour myself.  When I did so, he hesitated, and
asked who were going.  Upon my naming Miss Wilson among the rest,
he seemed half inclined to go, but when I mentioned Mrs. Graham,
thinking it might be a further inducement, it appeared to have a
contrary effect, and he declined it altogether, and, to confess the
truth, the decision was not displeasing to me, though I could
scarcely tell you why.

It was about midday when we reached the place of our destination.
Mrs. Graham walked all the way to the cliffs; and little Arthur
walked the greater part of it too; for he was now much more hardy
and active than when he first entered the neighbourhood, and he did
not like being in the carriage with strangers, while all his four
friends, mamma, and Sancho, and Mr. Markham, and Miss Millward,
were on foot, journeying far behind, or passing through distant
fields and lanes.

I have a very pleasant recollection of that walk, along the hard,
white, sunny road, shaded here and there with bright green trees,
and adorned with flowery banks and blossoming hedges of delicious
fragrance; or through pleasant fields and lanes, all glorious in
the sweet flowers and brilliant verdure of delightful May.  It was
true, Eliza was not beside me; but she was with her friends in the
pony-carriage, as happy, I trusted, as I was; and even when we
pedestrians, having forsaken the highway for a short cut across the
fields, beheld the little carriage far away, disappearing amid the
green, embowering trees, I did not hate those trees for snatching
the dear little bonnet and shawl from my sight, nor did I feel that
all those intervening objects lay between my happiness and me; for,
to confess the truth, I was too happy in the company of Mrs. Graham
to regret the absence of Eliza, Millward.

The former, it is true, was most provokingly unsociable at first -
seemingly bent upon talking to no one but Mary Millward and Arthur.
She and Mary journeyed along together, generally with the child
between them; - but where the road permitted, I always walked on
the other side of her, Richard Wilson taking the other side of Miss
Millward, and Fergus roving here and there according to his fancy;
and, after a while, she became more friendly, and at length I
succeeded in securing her attention almost entirely to myself - and
then I was happy indeed; for whenever she did condescend to
converse, I liked to listen.  Where her opinions and sentiments
tallied with mine, it was her extreme good sense, her exquisite
taste and feeling, that delighted me; where they differed, it was
still her uncompromising boldness in the avowal or defence of that
difference, her earnestness and keenness, that piqued my fancy:
and even when she angered me by her unkind words or looks, and her
uncharitable conclusions respecting me, it only made me the more
dissatisfied with myself for having so unfavourably impressed her,
and the more desirous to vindicate my character and disposition in
her eyes, and, if possible, to win her esteem.

At length our walk was ended.  The increasing height and boldness
of the hills had for some time intercepted the prospect; but, on
gaining the summit of a steep acclivity, and looking downward, an
opening lay before us - and the blue sea burst upon our sight! -
deep violet blue - not deadly calm, but covered with glinting
breakers - diminutive white specks twinkling on its bosom, and
scarcely to be distinguished, by the keenest vision, from the
little seamews that sported above, their white wings glittering in
the sunshine:  only one or two vessels were visible, and those were
far away.

I looked at my companion to see what she thought of this glorious
scene.  She said nothing:  but she stood still, and fixed her eyes
upon it with a gaze that assured me she was not disappointed.  She
had very fine eyes, by-the-by - I don't know whether I have told
you before, but they were full of soul, large, clear, and nearly
black - not brown, but very dark grey.  A cool, reviving breeze
blew from the sea - soft, pure, salubrious:  it waved her drooping
ringlets, and imparted a livelier colour to her usually too pallid
lip and cheek.  She felt its exhilarating influence, and so did I -
I felt it tingling through my frame, but dared not give way to it
while she remained so quiet.  There was an aspect of subdued
exhilaration in her face, that kindled into almost a smile of
exalted, glad intelligence as her eye met mine.  Never had she
looked so lovely:  never had my heart so warmly cleaved to her as
now.  Had we been left two minutes longer standing there alone, I
cannot answer for the consequences.  Happily for my discretion,
perhaps for my enjoyment during the remainder of the day, we were
speedily summoned to the repast - a very respectable collation,
which Rose, assisted by Miss Wilson and Eliza, who, having shared
her seat in the carriage, had arrived with her a little before the
rest, had set out upon an elevated platform overlooking the sea,
and sheltered from the hot sun by a shelving rock and overhanging
trees.

Mrs. Graham seated herself at a distance from me.  Eliza was my
nearest neighbour.  She exerted herself to be agreeable, in her
gentle, unobtrusive way, and was, no doubt, as fascinating and
charming as ever, if I could only have felt it.  But soon my heart
began to warm towards her once again; and we were all very merry
and happy together - as far as I could see - throughout the
protracted social meal.

When that was over, Rose summoned Fergus to help her to gather up
the fragments, and the knives, dishes, &c., and restore them to the
baskets; and Mrs. Graham took her camp-stool and drawing materials;
and having begged Miss Millward to take charge of her precious son,
and strictly enjoined him not to wander from his new guardian's
side, she left us and proceeded along the steep, stony hill, to a
loftier, more precipitous eminence at some distance, whence a still
finer prospect was to be had, where she preferred taking her
sketch, though some of the ladies told her it was a frightful
place, and advised her not to attempt it.

When she was gone, I felt as if there was to be no more fun -
though it is difficult to say what she had contributed to the
hilarity of the party.  No jests, and little laughter, had escaped
her lips; but her smile had animated my mirth; a keen observation
or a cheerful word from her had insensibly sharpened my wits, and
thrown an interest over all that was done and said by the rest.
Even my conversation with Eliza had been enlivened by her presence,
though I knew it not; and now that she was gone, Eliza's playful
nonsense ceased to amuse me - nay, grew wearisome to my soul, and I
grew weary of amusing her:  I felt myself drawn by an irresistible
attraction to that distant point where the fair artist sat and
plied her solitary task - and not long did I attempt to resist it:
while my little neighbour was exchanging a few words with Miss
Wilson, I rose and cannily slipped away.  A few rapid strides, and
a little active clambering, soon brought me to the place where she
was seated - a narrow ledge of rock at the very verge of the cliff,
which descended with a steep, precipitous slant, quite down to the
rocky shore.

She did not hear me coming:  the falling of my shadow across her
paper gave her an electric start; and she looked hastily round -
any other lady of my acquaintance would have screamed under such a
sudden alarm.

'Oh!  I didn't know it was you. - Why did you startle me so?' said
she, somewhat testily.  'I hate anybody to come upon me so
unexpectedly.'

'Why, what did you take me for?' said I:  'if I had known you were
so nervous, I would have been more cautious; but - '

'Well, never mind.  What did you come for? are they all coming?'

'No; this little ledge could scarcely contain them all.'

'I'm glad, for I'm tired of talking.'

'Well, then, I won't talk.  I'll only sit and watch your drawing.'

'Oh, but you know I don't like that.'

'Then I'll content myself with admiring this magnificent prospect.'

She made no objection to this; and, for some time, sketched away in
silence.  But I could not help stealing a glance, now and then,
from the splendid view at our feet to the elegant white hand that
held the pencil, and the graceful neck and glossy raven curls that
drooped over the paper.

'Now,' thought I, 'if I had but a pencil and a morsel of paper, I
could make a lovelier sketch than hers, admitting I had the power
to delineate faithfully what is before me.'

But, though this satisfaction was denied me, I was very well
content to sit beside her there, and say nothing.

'Are you there still, Mr. Markham?' said she at length, looking
round upon me - for I was seated a little behind on a mossy
projection of the cliff. - 'Why don't you go and amuse yourself
with your friends?'

'Because I am tired of them, like you; and I shall have enough of
them to-morrow - or at any time hence; but you I may not have the
pleasure of seeing again for I know not how long.'

'What was Arthur doing when you came away?'

'He was with Miss Millward, where you left him - all right, but
hoping mamma would not be long away.  You didn't intrust him to me,
by-the-by,' I grumbled, 'though I had the honour of a much longer
acquaintance; but Miss Millward has the art of conciliating and
amusing children,' I carelessly added, 'if she is good for nothing
else.'

'Miss Millward has many estimable qualities, which such as you
cannot be expected to perceive or appreciate.  Will you tell Arthur
that I shall come in a few minutes?'

'If that be the case, I will wait, with your permission, till those
few minutes are past; and then I can assist you to descend this
difficult path.'

'Thank you - I always manage best, on such occasions, without
assistance.'

'But, at least, I can carry your stool and sketch-book.'

She did not deny me this favour; but I was rather offended at her
evident desire to be rid of me, and was beginning to repent of my
pertinacity, when she somewhat appeased me by consulting my taste
and judgment about some doubtful matter in her drawing.  My
opinion, happily, met her approbation, and the improvement I
suggested was adopted without hesitation.

'I have often wished in vain,' said she, 'for another's judgment to
appeal to when I could scarcely trust the direction of my own eye
and head, they having been so long occupied with the contemplation
of a single object as to become almost incapable of forming a
proper idea respecting it.'

'That,' replied I, 'is only one of many evils to which a solitary
life exposes us.'

'True,' said she; and again we relapsed into silence.

About two minutes after, however, she declared her sketch
completed, and closed the book.

On returning to the scene of our repast we found all the company
had deserted it, with the exception of three - Mary Millward,
Richard Wilson, and Arthur Graham.  The younger gentleman lay fast
asleep with his head pillowed on the lady's lap; the other was
seated beside her with a pocket edition of some classic author in
his hand.  He never went anywhere without such a companion
wherewith to improve his leisure moments:  all time seemed lost
that was not devoted to study, or exacted, by his physical nature,
for the bare support of life.  Even now he could not abandon
himself to the enjoyment of that pure air and balmy sunshine - that
splendid prospect, and those soothing sounds, the music of the
waves and of the soft wind in the sheltering trees above him - not
even with a lady by his side (though not a very charming one, I
will allow) - he must pull out his book, and make the most of his
time while digesting his temperate meal, and reposing his weary
limbs, unused to so much exercise.

Perhaps, however, he spared a moment to exchange a word or a glance
with his companion now and then - at any rate, she did not appear
at all resentful of his conduct; for her homely features wore an
expression of unusual cheerfulness and serenity, and she was
studying his pale, thoughtful face with great complacency when we
arrived.

The journey homeward was by no means so agreeable to me as the
former part of the day:  for now Mrs. Graham was in the carriage,
and Eliza Millward was the companion of my walk.  She had observed
my preference for the young widow, and evidently felt herself
neglected.  She did not manifest her chagrin by keen reproaches,
bitter sarcasms, or pouting sullen silence - any or all of these I
could easily have endured, or lightly laughed away; but she showed
it by a kind of gentle melancholy, a mild, reproachful sadness that
cut me to the heart.  I tried to cheer her up, and apparently
succeeded in some degree, before the walk was over; but in the very
act my conscience reproved me, knowing, as I did, that, sooner or
later, the tie must be broken, and this was only nourishing false
hopes and putting off the evil day.

When the pony-carriage had approached as near Wildfell Hall as the
road would permit - unless, indeed, it proceeded up the long rough
lane, which Mrs. Graham would not allow - the young widow and her
son alighted, relinquishing the driver's seat to Rose; and I
persuaded Eliza to take the latter's place.  Having put her
comfortably in, bid her take care of the evening air, and wished
her a kind good-night, I felt considerably relieved, and hastened
to offer my services to Mrs. Graham to carry her apparatus up the
fields, but she had already hung her camp-stool on her arm and
taken her sketch-book in her hand, and insisted upon bidding me
adieu then and there, with the rest of the company.  But this time
she declined my proffered aid in so kind and friendly a manner that
I almost forgave her.



The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Deluxe Edition Anne Bronte chapter 08



Six weeks had passed away.  It was a splendid morning about the
close of June.  Most of the hay was cut, but the last week had been
very unfavourable; and now that fine weather was come at last,
being determined to make the most of it, I had gathered all hands
together into the hay-field, and was working away myself, in the
midst of them, in my shirt-sleeves, with a light, shady straw hat
on my head, catching up armfuls of moist, reeking grass, and
shaking it out to the four winds of heaven, at the head of a goodly
file of servants and hirelings - intending so to labour, from
morning till night, with as much zeal and assiduity as I could look
for from any of them, as well to prosper the work by my own
exertion as to animate the workers by my example - when lo! my
resolutions were overthrown in a moment, by the simple fact of my
brother's running up to me and putting into my hand a small parcel,
just arrived from London, which I had been for some time expecting.
I tore off the cover, and disclosed an elegant and portable edition
of 'Marmion.'

'I guess I know who that's for,' said Fergus, who stood looking on
while I complacently examined the volume.  'That's for Miss Eliza,
now.'

He pronounced this with a tone and look so prodigiously knowing,
that I was glad to contradict him.

'You're wrong, my lad,' said I; and, taking up my coat, I deposited
the book in one of its pockets, and then put it on (i.e. the coat).
'Now come here, you idle dog, and make yourself useful for once,' I
continued.  'Pull off your coat, and take my place in the field
till I come back.'

'Till you come back? - and where are you going, pray?

'No matter where - the when is all that concerns you; - and I shall
be back by dinner, at least.'

'Oh - oh! and I'm to labour away till then, am I? - and to keep all
these fellows hard at it besides?  Well, well!  I'll submit - for
once in a way. - Come, my lads, you must look sharp:  I'm come to
help you now:- and woe be to that man, or woman either, that pauses
for a moment amongst you - whether to stare about him, to scratch
his head, or blow his nose - no pretext will serve - nothing but
work, work, work in the sweat of your face,' &c., &c.

Leaving him thus haranguing the people, more to their amusement
than edification, I returned to the house, and, having made some
alteration in my toilet, hastened away to Wildfell Hall, with the
book in my pocket; for it was destined for the shelves of Mrs.
Graham.

'What! then had she and you got on so well together as to come to
the giving and receiving of presents?' - Not precisely, old buck;
this was my first experiment in that line; and I was very anxious
to see the result of it.

We had met several times since the - Bay excursion, and I had found
she was not averse to my company, provided I confined my
conversation to the discussion of abstract matters, or topics of
common interest; - the moment I touched upon the sentimental or the
complimentary, or made the slightest approach to tenderness in word
or look, I was not only punished by an immediate change in her
manner at the time, but doomed to find her more cold and distant,
if not entirely inaccessible, when next I sought her company.  This
circumstance did not greatly disconcert me, however, because I
attributed it, not so much to any dislike of my person, as to some
absolute resolution against a second marriage formed prior to the
time of our acquaintance, whether from excess of affection for her
late husband, or because she had had enough of him and the
matrimonial state together.  At first, indeed, she had seemed to
take a pleasure in mortifying my vanity and crushing my presumption
- relentlessly nipping off bud by bud as they ventured to appear;
and then, I confess, I was deeply wounded, though, at the same
time, stimulated to seek revenge; - but latterly finding, beyond a
doubt, that I was not that empty-headed coxcomb she had first
supposed me, she had repulsed my modest advances in quite a
different spirit.  It was a kind of serious, almost sorrowful
displeasure, which I soon learnt carefully to avoid awakening.

'Let me first establish my position as a friend,' thought I - 'the
patron and playfellow of her son, the sober, solid, plain-dealing
friend of herself, and then, when I have made myself fairly
necessary to her comfort and enjoyment in life (as I believe I
can), we'll see what next may be effected.'

So we talked about painting, poetry, and music, theology, geology,
and philosophy:  once or twice I lent her a book, and once she lent
me one in return:  I met her in her walks as often as I could; I
came to her house as often as I dared.  My first pretext for
invading the sanctum was to bring Arthur a little waddling puppy of
which Sancho was the father, and which delighted the child beyond
expression, and, consequently, could not fail to please his mamma.
My second was to bring him a book, which, knowing his mother's
particularity, I had carefully selected, and which I submitted for
her approbation before presenting it to him.  Then, I brought her
some plants for her garden, in my sister's name - having previously
persuaded Rose to send them.  Each of these times I inquired after
the picture she was painting from the sketch taken on the cliff,
and was admitted into the studio, and asked my opinion or advice
respecting its progress.

My last visit had been to return the book she had lent me; and then
it was that, in casually discussing the poetry of Sir Walter Scott,
she had expressed a wish to see 'Marmion,' and I had conceived the
presumptuous idea of making her a present of it, and, on my return
home, instantly sent for the smart little volume I had this morning
received.  But an apology for invading the hermitage was still
necessary; so I had furnished myself with a blue morocco collar for
Arthur's little dog; and that being given and received, with much
more joy and gratitude, on the part of the receiver, than the worth
of the gift or the selfish motive of the giver deserved, I ventured
to ask Mrs. Graham for one more look at the picture, if it was
still there.

'Oh, yes! come in,' said she (for I had met them in the garden).
'It is finished and framed, all ready for sending away; but give me
your last opinion, and if you can suggest any further improvement,
it shall be - duly considered, at least.'

The picture was strikingly beautiful; it was the very scene itself,
transferred as if by magic to the canvas; but I expressed my
approbation in guarded terms, and few words, for fear of
displeasing her.  She, however, attentively watched my looks, and
her artist's pride was gratified, no doubt, to read my heartfelt
admiration in my eyes.  But, while I gazed, I thought upon the
book, and wondered how it was to be presented.  My heart failed me;
but I determined not to be such a fool as to come away without
having made the attempt.  It was useless waiting for an
opportunity, and useless trying to concoct a speech for the
occasion.  The more plainly and naturally the thing was done, the
better, I thought; so I just looked out of the window to screw up
my courage, and then pulled out the book, turned round, and put it
into her hand, with this short explanation:

'You were wishing to see 'Marmion,' Mrs. Graham; and here it is, if
you will be so kind as to take it.'

A momentary blush suffused her face - perhaps, a blush of
sympathetic shame for such an awkward style of presentation:  she
gravely examined the volume on both sides; then silently turned
over the leaves, knitting her brows the while, in serious
cogitation; then closed the book, and turning from it to me,
quietly asked the price of it - I felt the hot blood rush to my
face.

'I'm sorry to offend you, Mr. Markham,' said she, 'but unless I pay
for the book, I cannot take it.'  And she laid it on the table.

'Why cannot you?'

'Because,' - she paused, and looked at the carpet.

'Why cannot you?' I repeated, with a degree of irascibility that
roused her to lift her eyes and look me steadily in the face.

'Because I don't like to put myself under obligations that I can
never repay - I am obliged to you already for your kindness to my
son; but his grateful affection and your own good feelings must
reward you for that.'

'Nonsense!' ejaculated I.

She turned her eyes on me again, with a look of quiet, grave
surprise, that had the effect of a rebuke, whether intended for
such or not.

'Then you won't take the book?' I asked, more mildly than I had yet
spoken.

'I will gladly take it, if you will let me pay for it.'  I told her
the exact price, and the cost of the carriage besides, in as calm a
tone as I could command - for, in fact, I was ready to weep with
disappointment and vexation.

She produced her purse, and coolly counted out the money, but
hesitated to put it into my hand.  Attentively regarding me, in a
tone of soothing softness, she observed, - 'You think yourself
insulted, Mr Markham - I wish I could make you understand that -
that I - '

'I do understand you, perfectly,' I said.  'You think that if you
were to accept that trifle from me now, I should presume upon it
hereafter; but you are mistaken:- if you will only oblige me by
taking it, believe me, I shall build no hopes upon it, and consider
this no precedent for future favours:- and it is nonsense to talk
about putting yourself under obligations to me when you must know
that in such a case the obligation is entirely on my side, - the
favour on yours.'

'Well, then, I'll take you at your word,' she answered, with a most
angelic smile, returning the odious money to her purse - 'but
remember!'

'I will remember - what I have said; - but do not you punish my
presumption by withdrawing your friendship entirely from me, - or
expect me to atone for it by being more distant than before,' said
I, extending my hand to take leave, for I was too much excited to
remain.

'Well, then! let us be as we were,' replied she, frankly placing
her hand in mine; and while I held it there, I had much difficulty
to refrain from pressing it to my lips; - but that would be
suicidal madness:  I had been bold enough already, and this
premature offering had well-nigh given the death-blow to my hopes.

It was with an agitated, burning heart and brain that I hurried
homewards, regardless of that scorching noonday sun - forgetful of
everything but her I had just left - regretting nothing but her
impenetrability, and my own precipitancy and want of tact - fearing
nothing but her hateful resolution, and my inability to overcome it
- hoping nothing - but halt, - I will not bore you with my
conflicting hopes and fears - my serious cogitations and resolves.



The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Deluxe Edition Anne Bronte chapter 09



Though my affections might now be said to be fairly weaned from
Eliza Millward, I did not yet entirely relinquish my visits to the
vicarage, because I wanted, as it were, to let her down easy;
without raising much sorrow, or incurring much resentment, - or
making myself the talk of the parish; and besides, if I had wholly
kept away, the vicar, who looked upon my visits as paid chiefly, if
not entirely, to himself, would have felt himself decidedly
affronted by the neglect.  But when I called there the day after my
interview with Mrs. Graham, he happened to be from home - a
circumstance by no means so agreeable to me now as it had been on
former occasions.  Miss Millward was there, it is true, but she, of
course, would be little better than a nonentity.  However, I
resolved to make my visit a short one, and to talk to Eliza in a
brotherly, friendly sort of way, such as our long acquaintance
might warrant me in assuming, and which, I thought, could neither
give offence nor serve to encourage false hopes.

It was never my custom to talk about Mrs. Graham either to her or
any one else; but I had not been seated three minutes before she
brought that lady on to the carpet herself in a rather remarkable
manner.

'Oh, Mr. Markham!' said she, with a shocked expression and voice
subdued almost to a whisper, 'what do you think of these shocking
reports about Mrs. Graham? - can you encourage us to disbelieve
them?'

'What reports?'

'Ah, now! you know!' she slily smiled and shook her head.

'I know nothing about them.  What in the world do you mean, Eliza?'

'Oh, don't ask me!  I can't explain it.'  She took up the cambric
handkerchief which she had been beautifying with a deep lace
border, and began to be very busy.

'What is it, Miss Millward? what does she mean?' said I, appealing
to her sister, who seemed to be absorbed in the hemming of a large,
coarse sheet.

'I don't know,' replied she.  'Some idle slander somebody has been
inventing, I suppose.  I never heard it till Eliza told me the
other day, - but if all the parish dinned it in my ears, I
shouldn't believe a word of it - I know Mrs. Graham too well!'

'Quite right, Miss Millward! - and so do I - whatever it may be.'

'Well,' observed Eliza, with a gentle sigh, 'it's well to have such
a comfortable assurance regarding the worth of those we love.  I
only wish you may not find your confidence misplaced.'

And she raised her face, and gave me such a look of sorrowful
tenderness as might have melted my heart, but within those eyes
there lurked a something that I did not like; and I wondered how I
ever could have admired them - her sister's honest face and small
grey optics appeared far more agreeable.  But I was out of temper
with Eliza at that moment for her insinuations against Mrs. Graham,
which were false, I was certain, whether she knew it or not.

I said nothing more on the subject, however, at the time, and but
little on any other; for, finding I could not well recover my
equanimity, I presently rose and took leave, excusing myself under
the plea of business at the farm; and to the farm I went, not
troubling my mind one whit about the possible truth of these
mysterious reports, but only wondering what they were, by whom
originated, and on what foundations raised, and how they could the
most effectually be silenced or disproved.

A few days after this we had another of our quiet little parties,
to which the usual company of friends and neighbours had been
invited, and Mrs. Graham among the number.  She could not now
absent herself under the plea of dark evenings or inclement
weather, and, greatly to my relief, she came.  Without her I should
have found the whole affair an intolerable bore; but the moment of
her arrival brought new life to the house, and though I might not
neglect the other guests for her, or expect to engross much of her
attention and conversation to myself alone, I anticipated an
evening of no common enjoyment.

Mr. Lawrence came too.  He did not arrive till some time after the
rest were assembled.  I was curious to see how he would comport
himself to Mrs. Graham.  A slight bow was all that passed between
them on his entrance; and having politely greeted the other members
of the company, he seated himself quite aloof from the young widow,
between my mother and Rose.

'Did you ever see such art?' whispered Eliza, who was my nearest
neighbour.  'Would you not say they were perfect strangers?'

'Almost; but what then?'

'What then; why, you can't pretend to be ignorant?'

'Ignorant of what?' demanded I, so sharply that she started and
replied, -

'Oh, hush! don't speak so loud.'

'Well, tell me then,' I answered in a lower tone, 'what is it you
mean?  I hate enigmas.'

'Well, you know, I don't vouch for the truth of it - indeed, far
from it - but haven't you heard -?'

'I've heard nothing, except from you.'

'You must be wilfully deaf then, for anyone will tell you that; but
I shall only anger you by repeating it, I see, so I had better hold
my tongue.'

She closed her lips and folded her hands before her, with an air of
injured meekness.

'If you had wished not to anger me, you should have held your
tongue from the beginning, or else spoken out plainly and honestly
all you had to say.'

She turned aside her face, pulled out her handkerchief, rose, and
went to the window, where she stood for some time, evidently
dissolved in tears.  I was astounded, provoked, ashamed - not so
much of my harshness as for her childish weakness.  However, no one
seemed to notice her, and shortly after we were summoned to the
tea-table:  in those parts it was customary to sit to the table at
tea-time on all occasions, and make a meal of it, for we dined
early.  On taking my seat, I had Rose on one side of me and an
empty chair on the other.

'May I sit by you?' said a soft voice at my elbow.

'If you like,' was the reply; and Eliza slipped into the vacant
chair; then, looking up in my face with a half-sad, half-playful
smile, she whispered, - 'You're so stern, Gilbert.'

I handed down her tea with a slightly contemptuous smile, and said
nothing, for I had nothing to say.

'What have I done to offend you?' said she, more plaintively.  'I
wish I knew.'

'Come, take your tea, Eliza, and don't be foolish,' responded I,
handing her the sugar and cream.

Just then there arose a slight commotion on the other side of me,
occasioned by Miss Wilson's coming to negotiate an exchange of
seats with Rose.

'Will you be so good as to exchange places with me, Miss Markham?'
said she; 'for I don't like to sit by Mrs. Graham.  If your mamma
thinks proper to invite such persons to her house, she cannot
object to her daughter's keeping company with them.'

This latter clause was added in a sort of soliloquy when Rose was
gone; but I was not polite enough to let it pass.

'Will you be so good as to tell me what you mean, Miss Wilson?'
said I.

The question startled her a little, but not much.

'Why, Mr. Markham,' replied she, coolly, having quickly recovered
her self-possession, 'it surprises me rather that Mrs. Markham
should invite such a person as Mrs. Graham to her house; but,
perhaps, she is not aware that the lady's character is considered
scarcely respectable.'

'She is not, nor am I; and therefore you would oblige me by
explaining your meaning a little further.'

'This is scarcely the time or the place for such explanations; but
I think you can hardly be so ignorant as you pretend - you must
know her as well as I do.'

'I think I do, perhaps a little better; and therefore, if you will
inform me what you have heard or imagined against her, I shall,
perhaps, be able to set you right.'

'Can you tell me, then, who was her husband, or if she ever had
any?'

Indignation kept me silent.  At such a time and place I could not
trust myself to answer.

'Have you never observed,' said Eliza, 'what a striking likeness
there is between that child of hers and - '

'And whom?' demanded Miss Wilson, with an air of cold, but keen
severity.

Eliza was startled; the timidly spoken suggestion had been intended
for my ear alone.

'Oh, I beg your pardon!' pleaded she; 'I may be mistaken - perhaps
I was mistaken.'  But she accompanied the words with a sly glance
of derision directed to me from the corner of her disingenuous eye.

'There's no need to ask my pardon,' replied her friend, 'but I see
no one here that at all resembles that child, except his mother,
and when you hear ill-natured reports, Miss Eliza, I will thank
you, that is, I think you will do well, to refrain from repeating
them.  I presume the person you allude to is Mr. Lawrence; but I
think I can assure you that your suspicions, in that respect, are
utterly misplaced; and if he has any particular connection with the
lady at all (which no one has a right to assert), at least he has
(what cannot be said of some others) sufficient sense of propriety
to withhold him from acknowledging anything more than a bowing
acquaintance in the presence of respectable persons; he was
evidently both surprised and annoyed to find her here.'

'Go it!' cried Fergus, who sat on the other side of Eliza, and was
the only individual who shared that side of the table with us.  'Go
it like bricks! mind you don't leave her one stone upon another.'

Miss Wilson drew herself up with a look of freezing scorn, but said
nothing.  Eliza would have replied, but I interrupted her by saying
as calmly as I could, though in a tone which betrayed, no doubt,
some little of what I felt within, - 'We have had enough of this
subject; if we can only speak to slander our betters, let us hold
our tongues.'

'I think you'd better,' observed Fergus, 'and so does our good
parson; he has been addressing the company in his richest vein all
the while, and eyeing you, from time to time, with looks of stern
distaste, while you sat there, irreverently whispering and
muttering together; and once he paused in the middle of a story or
a sermon, I don't know which, and fixed his eyes upon you, Gilbert,
as much as to say, "When Mr. Markham has done flirting with those
two ladies I will proceed."'

What more was said at the tea-table I cannot tell, nor how I found
patience to sit till the meal was over.  I remember, however, that
I swallowed with difficulty the remainder of the tea that was in my
cup, and ate nothing; and that the first thing I did was to stare
at Arthur Graham, who sat beside his mother on the opposite side of
the table, and the second to stare at Mr. Lawrence, who sat below;
and, first, it struck me that there was a likeness; but, on further
contemplation, I concluded it was only in imagination.

Both, it is true, had more delicate features and smaller bones than
commonly fall to the lot of individuals of the rougher sex, and
Lawrence's complexion was pale and clear, and Arthur's delicately
fair; but Arthur's tiny, somewhat snubby nose could never become so
long and straight as Mr. Lawrence's; and the outline of his face,
though not full enough to be round, and too finely converging to
the small, dimpled chin to be square, could never be drawn out to
the long oval of the other's, while the child's hair was evidently
of a lighter, warmer tint than the elder gentleman's had ever been,
and his large, clear blue eyes, though prematurely serious at
times, were utterly dissimilar to the shy hazel eyes of Mr.
Lawrence, whence the sensitive soul looked so distrustfully forth,
as ever ready to retire within, from the offences of a too rude,
too uncongenial world.  Wretch that I was to harbour that
detestable idea for a moment!  Did I not know Mrs. Graham?  Had I
not seen her, conversed with her time after time?  Was I not
certain that she, in intellect, in purity and elevation of soul,
was immeasurably superior to any of her detractors; that she was,
in fact, the noblest, the most adorable, of her sex I had ever
beheld, or even imagined to exist?  Yes, and I would say with Mary
Millward (sensible girl as she was), that if all the parish, ay, or
all the world, should din these horrible lies in my ears, I would
not believe them, for I knew her better than they.

Meantime, my brain was on fire with indignation, and my heart
seemed ready to burst from its prison with conflicting passions.  I
regarded my two fair neighbours with a feeling of abhorrence and
loathing I scarcely endeavoured to conceal.  I was rallied from
several quarters for my abstraction and ungallant neglect of the
ladies; but I cared little for that:  all I cared about, besides
that one grand subject of my thoughts, was to see the cups travel
up to the tea-tray, and not come down again.  I thought Mr.
Millward never would cease telling us that he was no tea-drinker,
and that it was highly injurious to keep loading the stomach with
slops to the exclusion of more wholesome sustenance, and so give
himself time to finish his fourth cup.

At length it was over; and I rose and left the table and the guests
without a word of apology - I could endure their company no longer.
I rushed out to cool my brain in the balmy evening air, and to
compose my mind or indulge my passionate thoughts in the solitude
of the garden.

To avoid being seen from the windows I went down a quiet little
avenue that skirted one side of the inclosure, at the bottom of
which was a seat embowered in roses and honeysuckles.  Here I sat
down to think over the virtues and wrongs of the lady of Wildfell
Hall; but I had not been so occupied two minutes, before voices and
laughter, and glimpses of moving objects through the trees,
informed me that the whole company had turned out to take an airing
in the garden too.  However, I nestled up in a corner of the bower,
and hoped to retain possession of it, secure alike from observation
and intrusion.  But no - confound it - there was some one coming
down the avenue!  Why couldn't they enjoy the flowers and sunshine
of the open garden, and leave that sunless nook to me, and the
gnats and midges?

But, peeping through my fragrant screen of the interwoven branches
to discover who the intruders were (for a murmur of voices told me
it was more than one), my vexation instantly subsided, and far
other feelings agitated my still unquiet soul; for there was Mrs.
Graham, slowly moving down the walk with Arthur by her side, and no
one else.  Why were they alone?  Had the poison of detracting
tongues already spread through all; and had they all turned their
backs upon her?  I now recollected having seen Mrs. Wilson, in the
early part of the evening, edging her chair close up to my mother,
and bending forward, evidently in the delivery of some important
confidential intelligence; and from the incessant wagging of her
head, the frequent distortions of her wrinkled physiognomy, and the
winking and malicious twinkle of her little ugly eyes, I judged it
was some spicy piece of scandal that engaged her powers; and from
the cautious privacy of the communication I supposed some person
then present was the luckless object of her calumnies:  and from
all these tokens, together with my mother's looks and gestures of
mingled horror and incredulity, I now concluded that object to have
been Mrs. Graham.  I did not emerge from my place of concealment
till she had nearly reached the bottom of the walk, lest my
appearance should drive her away; and when I did step forward she
stood still and seemed inclined to turn back as it was.

'Oh, don't let us disturb you, Mr. Markham!' said she.  'We came
here to seek retirement ourselves, not to intrude on your
seclusion.'

'I am no hermit, Mrs. Graham - though I own it looks rather like it
to absent myself in this uncourteous fashion from my guests.'

'I feared you were unwell,' said she, with a look of real concern.

'I was rather, but it's over now.  Do sit here a little and rest,
and tell me how you like this arbour,' said I, and, lifting Arthur
by the shoulders, I planted him in the middle of the seat by way of
securing his mamma, who, acknowledging it to be a tempting place of
refuge, threw herself back in one corner, while I took possession
of the other.

But that word refuge disturbed me.  Had their unkindness then
really driven her to seek for peace in solitude?

'Why have they left you alone?' I asked.

'It is I who have left them,' was the smiling rejoinder.  'I was
wearied to death with small talk - nothing wears me out like that.
I cannot imagine how they can go on as they do.'

I could not help smiling at the serious depth of her wonderment.

'Is it that they think it a duty to be continually talking,'
pursued she:  'and so never pause to think, but fill up with
aimless trifles and vain repetitions when subjects of real interest
fail to present themselves, or do they really take a pleasure in
such discourse?'

'Very likely they do,' said I; 'their shallow minds can hold no
great ideas, and their light heads are carried away by trivialities
that would not move a better-furnished skull; and their only
alternative to such discourse is to plunge over head and ears into
the slough of scandal - which is their chief delight.'

'Not all of them, surely?' cried the lady, astonished at the
bitterness of my remark.

'No, certainly; I exonerate my sister from such degraded tastes,
and my mother too, if you included her in your animadversions.'

'I meant no animadversions against any one, and certainly intended
no disrespectful allusions to your mother.  I have known some
sensible persons great adepts in that style of conversation when
circumstances impelled them to it; but it is a gift I cannot boast
the possession of.  I kept up my attention on this occasion as long
as I could, but when my powers were exhausted I stole away to seek
a few minutes' repose in this quiet walk.  I hate talking where
there is no exchange of ideas or sentiments, and no good given or
received.'

'Well,' said I, 'if ever I trouble you with my loquacity, tell me
so at once, and I promise not to be offended; for I possess the
faculty of enjoying the company of those I - of my friends as well
in silence as in conversation.'

'I don't quite believe you; but if it were so you would exactly
suit me for a companion.'

'I am all you wish, then, in other respects?'

'No, I don't mean that.  How beautiful those little clusters of
foliage look, where the sun comes through behind them!' said she,
on purpose to change the subject.

And they did look beautiful, where at intervals the level rays of
the sun penetrating the thickness of trees and shrubs on the
opposite side of the path before us, relieved their dusky verdure
by displaying patches of semi-transparent leaves of resplendent
golden green.

'I almost wish I were not a painter,' observed my companion.

'Why so? one would think at such a time you would most exult in
your privilege of being able to imitate the various brilliant and
delightful touches of nature.'

'No; for instead of delivering myself up to the full enjoyment of
them as others do, I am always troubling my head about how I could
produce the same effect upon canvas; and as that can never be done,
it is more vanity and vexation of spirit.'

'Perhaps you cannot do it to satisfy yourself, but you may and do
succeed in delighting others with the result of your endeavours.'

'Well, after all, I should not complain:  perhaps few people gain
their livelihood with so much pleasure in their toil as I do.  Here
is some one coming.'

She seemed vexed at the interruption.

'It is only Mr. Lawrence and Miss Wilson,' said I, 'coming to enjoy
a quiet stroll.  They will not disturb us.'

I could not quite decipher the expression of her face; but I was
satisfied there was no jealousy therein.  What business had I to
look for it?

'What sort of a person is Miss Wilson?' she asked.

'She is elegant and accomplished above the generality of her birth
and station; and some say she is ladylike and agreeable.'

'I thought her somewhat frigid and rather supercilious in her
manner to-day.'

'Very likely she might be so to you.  She has possibly taken a
prejudice against you, for I think she regards you in the light of
a rival.'

'Me!  Impossible, Mr. Markham!' said she, evidently astonished and
annoyed.

'Well, I know nothing about it,' returned I, rather doggedly; for I
thought her annoyance was chiefly against myself.

The pair had now approached within a few paces of us.  Our arbour
was set snugly back in a corner, before which the avenue at its
termination turned off into the more airy walk along the bottom of
the garden.  As they approached this, I saw, by the aspect of Jane
Wilson, that she was directing her companion's attention to us;
and, as well by her cold, sarcastic smile as by the few isolated
words of her discourse that reached me, I knew full well that she
was impressing him with the idea, that we were strongly attached to
each other.  I noticed that he coloured up to the temples, gave us
one furtive glance in passing, and walked on, looking grave, but
seemingly offering no reply to her remarks.

It was true, then, that he had some designs upon Mrs. Graham; and,
were they honourable, he would not be so anxious to conceal them.
She was blameless, of course, but he was detestable beyond all
count.

While these thoughts flashed through my mind, my companion abruptly
rose, and calling her son, said they would now go in quest of the
company, and departed up the avenue.  Doubtless she had heard or
guessed something of Miss Wilson's remarks, and therefore it was
natural enough she should choose to continue the TETE-E-TETE no
longer, especially as at that moment my cheeks were burning with
indignation against my former friend, the token of which she might
mistake for a blush of stupid embarrassment.  For this I owed Miss
Wilson yet another grudge; and still the more I thought upon her
conduct the more I hated her.

It was late in the evening before I joined the company.  I found
Mrs. Graham already equipped for departure, and taking leave of the
rest, who were now returned to the house.  I offered, nay, begged
to accompany her home.  Mr. Lawrence was standing by at the time
conversing with some one else.  He did not look at us, but, on
hearing my earnest request, he paused in the middle of a sentence
to listen for her reply, and went on, with a look of quiet
satisfaction, the moment he found it was to be a denial.

A denial it was, decided, though not unkind.  She could not be
persuaded to think there was danger for herself or her child in
traversing those lonely lanes and fields without attendance.  It
was daylight still, and she should meet no one; or if she did, the
people were quiet and harmless she was well assured.  In fact, she
would not hear of any one's putting himself out of the way to
accompany her, though Fergus vouchsafed to offer his services in
case they should be more acceptable than mine, and my mother begged
she might send one of the farming-men to escort her.

When she was gone the rest was all a blank or worse.  Lawrence
attempted to draw me into conversation, but I snubbed him and went
to another part of the room.  Shortly after the party broke up and
he himself took leave.  When he came to me I was blind to his
extended hand, and deaf to his good-night till he repeated it a
second time; and then, to get rid of him, I muttered an
inarticulate reply, accompanied by a sulky nod.

'What is the matter, Markham?' whispered he.

I replied by a wrathful and contemptuous stare.

'Are you angry because Mrs. Graham would not let you go home with
her?' he asked, with a faint smile that nearly exasperated me
beyond control.

But, swallowing down all fiercer answers, I merely demanded, -
'What business is it of yours?'

'Why, none,' replied he with provoking quietness; 'only,' - and he
raised his eyes to my face, and spoke with unusual solemnity, -
'only let me tell you, Markham, that if you have any designs in
that quarter, they will certainly fail; and it grieves me to see
you cherishing false hopes, and wasting your strength in useless
efforts, for - '

'Hypocrite!' I exclaimed; and he held his breath, and looked very
blank, turned white about the gills, and went away without another
word.

I had wounded him to the quick; and I was glad of it.