TheTenantofWildfellHall

AnneBrontë

CHAPTERI

Youmustgobackwithmetotheautumnof1827.

Myfather,asyouknow,wasasortofgentlemanfarmerin—shire;andI,byhis express desire, succeeded him in the same quiet occupation, not verywillingly, forambitionurgedmetohigheraims,andself-conceitassuredmethat,indisregardingitsvoice,Iwasburyingmytalentintheearth,andhidingmylightunderabushel.MymotherhaddoneherutmosttopersuademethatIwascapableofgreatachievements;butmyfather,whothoughtambitionwasthe surest road to ruin, and change but anotherword for destruction,wouldlistentonoschemeforbetteringeithermyowncondition,orthatofmyfellowmortals. Heassuredme itwasall rubbish,andexhortedme,withhisdyingbreath, tocontinuein thegoodoldway, tofollowhissteps,andthoseofhisfatherbeforehim,andletmyhighestambitionbetowalkhonestlythroughtheworld, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, and to transmit thepaternalacrestomychildrenin,atleast,asflourishingaconditionasheleftthemtome.

‘Well!—anhonestandindustriousfarmerisoneof themostusefulmembersof society; and if Idevotemy talents to the cultivationofmy farm, and theimprovement of agriculture in general, I shall thereby benefit, not onlymyownimmediateconnectionsanddependants,but,insomedegree,mankindatlarge:—henceIshallnothavelivedinvain.’WithsuchreflectionsastheseIwasendeavouringtoconsolemyself,asIploddedhomefromthefields,onecold,damp,cloudyeveningtowardsthecloseofOctober.Butthegleamofabright red fire through the parlourwindow hadmore effect in cheeringmyspirits,andrebukingmythanklessrepinings,thanallthesagereflectionsand

good resolutions I had forced my mind to frame;—for I was young then,remember—onlyfour-and-twenty—andhadnotacquiredhalftheruleovermyownspiritthatInowpossess—triflingasthatmaybe.

However,thathavenofblissmustnotbeenteredtillIhadexchangedmymiryboots foracleanpairof shoes,andmyroughsurtout fora respectablecoat,andmademyselfgenerallypresentablebeforedecentsociety;formymother,withallherkindness,wasvastlyparticularoncertainpoints.

InascendingtomyroomIwasmetuponthestairsbyasmart,prettygirlofnineteen, with a tidy, dumpy figure, a round face, bright, blooming cheeks,glossy,clusteringcurls,andlittlemerrybrowneyes. Ineednot tellyouthiswasmysisterRose.Sheis,Iknow,acomelymatronstill,and,doubtless,noless lovely—in your eyes—than on the happy day you first beheld her.Nothing toldme then that she,a fewyearshence,wouldbe thewifeofoneentirelyunknowntomeasyet,butdestinedhereaftertobecomeacloserfriendthan even herself,more intimate than that unmannerly lad of seventeen, bywhomIwascollared in thepassage,oncomingdown,andwell-nigh jerkedoff my equilibrium, and who, in correction for his impudence, received aresounding whack over the sconce, which, however, sustained no seriousinjuryfromtheinfliction;as,besidesbeingmorethancommonlythick,itwasprotectedbyaredundantshockofshort,reddishcurls,thatmymothercalledauburn.

Onenteringtheparlourwefoundthathonouredladyseatedinherarm-chairatthe fireside, working away at her knitting, according to her usual custom,whenshehadnothingelsetodo.Shehadsweptthehearth,andmadeabrightblazingfireforourreception;theservanthadjustbroughtinthetea-tray;andRosewasproducing the sugar-basinand tea-caddy from thecupboard in theblackoak side-board, that shone likepolishedebony, in thecheerfulparlourtwilight.

‘Well! here theyboth are,’ criedmymother, looking rounduponuswithoutretardingthemotionofhernimblefingersandglitteringneedles.‘Nowshutthe door, and come to the fire,whileRose gets the tea ready; I’m sure youmust be starved;—and tell me what you’ve been about all day;—I like toknowwhatmychildrenhavebeenabout.’

‘I’ve been breaking in the grey colt—no easy business that—directing theploughingof the lastwheat stubble—for theploughboyhasnot the sense todirecthimself—andcarryingoutaplanfortheextensiveandefficientdrainingofthelowmeadowlands.’

‘That’smybraveboy!—andFergus,whathaveyoubeendoing?’

‘Badger-baiting.’

And here he proceeded to give a particular account of his sport, and therespective traits ofprowess evincedby thebadger and thedogs;mymotherpretending to listen with deep attention, and watching his animatedcountenance with a degree of maternal admiration I thought highlydisproportionedtoitsobject.

‘It’s time you should be doing something else, Fergus,’ said I, as soon as amomentarypauseinhisnarrationallowedmetogetinaword.

‘WhatcanIdo?’ repliedhe; ‘mymotherwon’t letmego toseaorenter thearmy; and I’m determined to do nothing else—except make myself such anuisancetoyouall,thatyouwillbethankfultogetridofmeonanyterms.’

Ourparentsoothinglystrokedhisstiff,shortcurls. Hegrowled,andtriedtolook sulky, and thenwe all took our seats at the table, in obedience to thethrice-repeatedsummonsofRose.

‘Now takeyour tea,’ said she; ‘and I’ll tell youwhat I’vebeendoing. I’vebeentocallontheWilsons;andit’sathousandpitiesyoudidn’tgowithme,Gilbert,forElizaMillwardwasthere!’

‘Well!whatofher?’

‘Oh,nothing!—I’mnotgoing to tell youabouther;—only that she’s anice,amusing little thing, when she is in amerry humour, and I shouldn’t mindcallingher—’

‘Hush,hush,mydear!yourbrotherhasnosuchidea!’whisperedmymotherearnestly,holdingupherfinger.

‘Well,’ resumedRose; ‘Iwasgoing to tellyouan importantpieceofnews Iheard there—I have been bursting with it ever since. You know it wasreportedamonthago,thatsomebodywasgoingtotakeWildfellHall—and—what do you think? It has actually been inhabited above aweek!—andweneverknew!’

‘Impossible!’criedmymother.

‘Preposterous!!!’shriekedFergus.

‘Ithasindeed!—andbyasinglelady!’

‘Goodgracious,mydear!Theplaceisinruins!’

‘Shehashadtwoorthreeroomsmadehabitable;andthereshelives,allalone—exceptanoldwomanforaservant!’

‘Oh,dear!thatspoilsit—I’dhopedshewasawitch,’observedFergus,whilecarvinghisinch-thicksliceofbreadandbutter.‘Nonsense,Fergus!Butisn’t

itstrange,mamma?’

‘Strange!Icanhardlybelieveit.’

‘But youmay believe it; for JaneWilson has seen her. Shewentwith hermother, who, of course, when she heard of a stranger being in theneighbourhood,wouldbeonpinsandneedlestillshehadseenherandgotallshecouldoutofher.SheiscalledMrs.Graham,andsheisinmourning—notwidow’sweeds,butslightishmourning—andshe isquiteyoung, theysay,—notabovefiveorsixandtwenty,—butsoreserved!Theytriedalltheycouldto find out who shewas andwhere she came from, and, all about her, butneitherMrs.Wilson,withherpertinaciousandimpertinenthome-thrusts,norMissWilson, with her skilfulmanoeuvring, couldmanage to elicit a singlesatisfactoryanswer,orevenacasualremark,orchanceexpressioncalculatedto allay their curiosity, or throw the faintest ray of light upon her history,circumstances,or connections. Moreover, shewasbarelycivil to them,andevidently better pleased to say ‘good-by,’ than ‘how do you do.’ But ElizaMillwardsaysherfatherintendstocalluponhersoon,tooffersomepastoraladvice,whichhefearssheneeds,as,thoughsheisknowntohaveenteredtheneighbourhoodearlylastweek,shedidnotmakeherappearanceatchurchonSunday;andshe—Eliza,thatis—willbegtoaccompanyhim,andissureshecansucceedinwheedlingsomethingoutofher—youknow,Gilbert,shecando anything. Andwe should call some time,mamma; it’s only proper, youknow.’

‘Ofcourse,mydear.Poorthing!Howlonelyshemustfeel!’

‘Andpray,bequickabout it;andmindyoubringmewordhowmuchsugarsheputsinhertea,andwhatsortofcapsandapronsshewears,andallaboutit;forIdon’tknowhowIcanlivetillIknow,’saidFergus,verygravely.

Butifheintendedthespeechtobehailedasamaster-strokeofwit,hesignallyfailed,fornobodylaughed. However,hewasnotmuchdisconcertedat that;for when he had taken a mouthful of bread and butter and was about toswallow a gulp of tea, the humour of the thing burst upon him with suchirresistible force, that he was obliged to jump up from the table, and rushsnortingandchokingfromtheroom;andaminuteafter,washeardscreaminginfearfulagonyinthegarden.

Asforme,Iwashungry,andcontentedmyselfwithsilentlydemolishingthetea,ham,andtoast,whilemymotherandsisterwentontalking,andcontinuedto discuss the apparent or non-apparent circumstances, and probable orimprobablehistoryof themysterious lady;but Imust confess that, aftermybrother’smisadventure, Ionceor twice raised thecup tomy lips, andput itdownagainwithoutdaringtotastethecontents,lestIshouldinjuremydignity

byasimilarexplosion.

ThenextdaymymotherandRosehastened topay theircompliments to thefairrecluse;andcamebackbutlittlewiserthantheywent;thoughmymotherdeclaredshedidnotregretthejourney,forifshehadnotgainedmuchgood,sheflatteredherselfshehadimpartedsome,andthatwasbetter:shehadgivensomeuseful advice,which, shehoped,wouldnot be thrownaway; forMrs.Graham, though she said little to anypurpose, andappeared somewhat self-opinionated, seemed not incapable of reflection,—though she did not knowwhere she had been all her life, poor thing, for she betrayed a lamentableignoranceoncertainpoints,andhadnoteventhesensetobeashamedofit.

‘Onwhatpoints,mother?’askedI.

‘Onhouseholdmatters,andallthelittlenicetiesofcookery,andsuchthings,thateveryladyought tobefamiliarwith,whethersheberequiredtomakeapractical use of her knowledge or not. I gave her some useful pieces ofinformation,however, and several excellent receipts, thevalueofwhich sheevidentlycouldnotappreciate,forshebeggedIwouldnottroublemyself,asshelivedinsuchaplain,quietway,thatshewassuresheshouldnevermakeuseofthem.“Nomatter,mydear,”saidI;“itiswhateveryrespectablefemaleought to know;—and besides, though you are alone now, you will not bealwaysso;youhavebeenmarried,andprobably—Imightsayalmostcertainly—will be again.” “You are mistaken there, ma’am,” said she, almosthaughtily;“IamcertainInevershall.”—ButItoldherIknewbetter.’

‘Someromanticyoungwidow,Isuppose,’saidI,‘cometheretoendherdaysinsolitude,andmourninsecretforthedeardeparted—butitwon’tlastlong.’

‘No,Ithinknot,’observedRose;‘forshedidn’tseemverydisconsolateafterall; and she’s excessively pretty—handsome rather—you must see her,Gilbert;youwillcallheraperfectbeauty,thoughyoucouldhardlypretendtodiscoveraresemblancebetweenherandElizaMillward.’

‘Well,IcanimaginemanyfacesmorebeautifulthanEliza’s,thoughnotmorecharming.Iallowshehassmallclaimstoperfection;butthen,Imaintainthat,ifsheweremoreperfect,shewouldbelessinteresting.’

‘Andsoyoupreferherfaultstootherpeople’sperfections?’

‘Justso—savingmymother’spresence.’

‘Oh,mydearGilbert,whatnonsenseyoutalk!—Iknowyoudon’tmeanit;it’squiteoutofthequestion,’saidmymother,gettingup,andbustlingoutoftheroom, under pretence of household business, in order to escape thecontradictionthatwastremblingonmytongue.

AfterthatRosefavouredmewithfurtherparticularsrespectingMrs.Graham.Her appearance,manners, anddress, and thevery furniture of the room sheinhabited, were all set before me, with rather more clearness and precisionthanIcaredtoseethem;but,asIwasnotaveryattentivelistener,IcouldnotrepeatthedescriptionifIwould.

ThenextdaywasSaturday;and,onSunday,everybodywonderedwhetherornot the fairunknownwouldprofitby thevicar’s remonstrance,andcome tochurch. IconfessI lookedwithsomeinterestmyself towardstheoldfamilypew, appertaining to Wildfell Hall, where the faded crimson cushions andlining had been unpressed and unrenewed so many years, and the grimescutcheons, with their lugubrious borders of rusty black cloth, frowned sosternlyfromthewallabove.

AndthereIbeheldatall,lady-likefigure,cladinblack.Herfacewastowardsme,andtherewassomethinginitwhich,onceseen,invitedmetolookagain.Her hair was raven black, and disposed in long glossy ringlets, a style ofcoiffureratherunusual in thosedays,butalwaysgracefulandbecoming;hercomplexionwasclearandpale;hereyesIcouldnotsee,for,beingbentuponher prayer-book, theywere concealed by their drooping lids and long blacklashes, but the brows abovewere expressive andwell defined; the foreheadwas lofty and intellectual, the nose, a perfect aquiline and the features, ingeneral, unexceptionable—only there was a slight hollowness about thecheeksandeyes, and the lips, though finely formed,werea little too thin, alittletoofirmlycompressed,andhadsomethingaboutthemthatbetokened,Ithought, no very soft or amiable temper; and I said inmy heart—‘I wouldrather admire you from this distance, fair lady, than be the partner of yourhome.’

Justthenshehappenedtoraisehereyes,andtheymetmine;Ididnotchoosetowithdrawmygaze,andsheturnedagaintoherbook,butwithamomentary,indefinableexpressionofquietscorn,thatwasinexpressiblyprovokingtome.

‘She thinksmean impudentpuppy,’ thought I. ‘Humph!—she shall changehermindbeforelong,ifIthinkitworthwhile.’

Butthenitflasheduponmethatthesewereveryimproperthoughtsforaplaceofworship,andthatmybehaviour,onthepresentoccasion,wasanythingbutwhatitoughttobe.Previous,however,todirectingmymindtotheservice,Iglancedroundthechurchtoseeifanyonehadbeenobservingme;—butno,—all,whowerenotattendingtotheirprayer-books,wereattendingtothestrangelady,—mygoodmother and sister among the rest, andMrs.Wilson andherdaughter;andevenElizaMillwardwasslilyglancingfromthecornersofhereyes towards the object of general attraction. Then she glanced at me,simpered a little, and blushed, modestly looked at her prayer-book, and

endeavouredtocomposeherfeatures.

HereIwas transgressingagain;and this timeIwasmadesensibleof itbyasuddendigintheribs,fromtheelbowofmypertbrother. Forthepresent,Icould only resent the insult by pressing my foot upon his toes, deferringfurthervengeancetillwegotoutofchurch.

Now,Halford,beforeIclosethisletter,I’lltellyouwhoElizaMillwardwas:shewasthevicar’syoungerdaughter,andaveryengaginglittlecreature,forwhom I felt no small degree of partiality;—and she knew it, though I hadnever come to any direct explanation, and had no definite intention of sodoing,formymother,whomaintainedtherewasnoonegoodenoughformewithin twentymiles round, couldnotbear the thoughtsofmymarrying thatinsignificant little thing, who, in addition to her numerous otherdisqualifications,hadnottwentypoundstocallherown.Eliza’sfigurewasatonceslightandplump,her facesmall,andnearlyas roundasmysister’s,—complexion, something similar tohers, butmoredelicate and lessdecidedlyblooming,—nose, retroussé,—features, generally irregular; and, altogether,shewas rather charming thanpretty. Buther eyes—Imustnot forget thoseremarkablefeatures,forthereinherchiefattractionlay—inoutwardaspectatleast;—they were long and narrow in shape, the irids black, or very darkbrown, the expression various, and ever changing, but always eitherpreternaturally—I had almost said diabolically—wicked, or irresistiblybewitching—oftenboth.Hervoicewasgentleandchildish,hertreadlightandsoftas thatofacat:—buthermannersmorefrequentlyresembledthoseofapretty playful kitten, that is now pert and roguish, now timid and demure,accordingtoitsownsweetwill.

Hersister,Mary,wasseveralyearsolder,severalinchestaller,andofalarger,coarser build—a plain, quiet, sensible girl, who had patiently nursed theirmother, throughher last long, tedious illness,andbeen thehousekeeper,andfamilydrudge,fromthencetothepresenttime.Shewastrustedandvaluedbyherfather,lovedandcourtedbyalldogs,cats,children,andpoorpeople,andslightedandneglectedbyeverybodyelse.

The Reverend Michael Millward himself was a tall, ponderous elderlygentleman,whoplacedashovelhatabovehislarge,square,massive-featuredface,carriedastoutwalking-stick inhishand,and incasedhisstillpowerfullimbs in knee-breeches and gaiters,—or black silk stockings on stateoccasions. Hewasamanof fixedprinciples, strongprejudices, and regularhabits, intolerantofdissent inanyshape,actingunderafirmconviction thathis opinions were always right, and whoever differed from them must beeithermostdeplorablyignorant,orwilfullyblind.

Inchildhood, Ihadalwaysbeenaccustomed to regardhimwitha feelingof

reverential awe—but lately, even now, surmounted, for, though he had afatherlykindnessforthewell-behaved,hewasastrictdisciplinarian,andhadoftensternlyreprovedourjuvenilefailingsandpeccadilloes;andmoreover,inthosedays,wheneverhecalleduponourparents,wehad to standupbeforehim,andsayourcatechism,orrepeat,‘Howdoththelittlebusybee,’orsomeother hymn, or—worse than all—be questioned about his last text, and theheads of the discourse, which we never could remember. Sometimes, theworthygentlemanwould reprovemymother forbeingover-indulgent tohersons, with a reference to old Eli, or David and Absalom, which wasparticularlygallingtoherfeelings;and,veryhighlyassherespectedhim,andall his sayings, I once heard her exclaim, ‘Iwish to goodness he had a sonhimself!Hewouldn’tbesoreadywithhisadvicetootherpeoplethen;—he’dseewhatitistohaveacoupleofboystokeepinorder.’

He had a laudable care for his own bodily health—kept very early hours,regularlytookawalkbeforebreakfast,wasvastlyparticularaboutwarmanddry clothing, had never been known to preach a sermonwithout previouslyswallowingarawegg—albeithewasgiftedwithgoodlungsandapowerfulvoice,—andwas,generally,extremelyparticularaboutwhatheateanddrank,though by no means abstemious, and having a mode of dietary peculiar tohimself,—beingagreatdespiserof teaand such slops, andapatronofmaltliquors,baconandeggs,ham,hungbeef,andotherstrongmeats,whichagreedwellenoughwithhisdigestiveorgans,andthereforeweremaintainedbyhimto be good andwholesome for everybody, and confidently recommended tothemostdelicateconvalescentsordyspeptics,who,iftheyfailedtoderivethepromisedbenefitfromhisprescriptions,weretolditwasbecausetheyhadnotpersevered, and if they complained of inconvenient results therefrom, wereassureditwasallfancy.

Iwill just touch upon two other personswhom I havementioned, and thenbringthislonglettertoaclose.TheseareMrs.Wilsonandherdaughter.Theformerwas thewidowofa substantial farmer,anarrow-minded, tattlingoldgossip,whosecharacterisnotworthdescribing.Shehadtwosons,Robert,arough countrified farmer, andRichard, a retiring, studious youngman,whowas studying the classics with the vicar’s assistance, preparing for college,withaviewtoenterthechurch.

TheirsisterJanewasayoungladyofsometalents,andmoreambition. Shehad,atherowndesire,receivedaregularboarding-schooleducation,superiortowhat anymember of the family had obtained before. She had taken thepolish well, acquired considerable elegance of manners, quite lost herprovincialaccent,andcouldboastofmoreaccomplishments than thevicar’sdaughters. She was considered a beauty besides; but never for a momentcouldshenumbermeamongstheradmirers. Shewasaboutsixand twenty,

rather tall and very slender, her hairwas neither chestnut nor auburn, but amost decided bright, light red; her complexion was remarkably fair andbrilliant,herheadsmall,necklong,chinwellturned,butveryshort,lipsthinand red, eyes clear hazel, quick, and penetrating, but entirely destitute ofpoetryorfeeling.Shehad,ormighthavehad,manysuitorsinherownrankoflife,butscornfullyrepulsedorrejectedthemall;fornonebutagentlemancouldpleaseherrefinedtaste,andnonebutarichonecouldsatisfyhersoaringambition.Onegentlemantherewas,fromwhomshehadlatelyreceivedsomerather pointed attentions, and upon whose heart, name, and fortune, it waswhispered,shehadseriousdesigns.ThiswasMr.Lawrence,theyoungsquire,whosefamilyhadformerlyoccupiedWildfellHall,buthaddesertedit,somefifteen years ago, for a more modern and commodious mansion in theneighbouringparish.

Now,Halford,Ibidyouadieuforthepresent. Thisisthefirstinstalmentofmydebt. If the coin suits you, tellme so, and I’ll send you the rest atmyleisure:ifyouwouldratherremainmycreditorthanstuffyourpursewithsuchungainly, heavy pieces,—tell me still, and I’ll pardon your bad taste, andwillinglykeepthetreasuretomyself.

Yoursimmutably,GILBERTMARKHAM.

CHAPTERII

Iperceive,withjoy,mymostvaluedfriend,thatthecloudofyourdispleasurehaspassedaway;thelightofyourcountenanceblessesmeoncemore,andyoudesire the continuation ofmy story: therefore, withoutmore ado, you shallhaveit.

IthinkthedayIlastmentionedwasacertainSunday,thelatestintheOctoberof1827.OnthefollowingTuesdayIwasoutwithmydogandgun,inpursuitof suchgameas I could findwithin the territoryofLinden-Car;but findingnone at all, I turned my arms against the hawks and carrion crows, whosedepredations,asIsuspected,haddeprivedmeofbetterprey.TothisendIleftthe more frequented regions, the wooded valleys, the corn-fields, and themeadow-lands, and proceeded to mount the steep acclivity ofWildfell, thewildestandtheloftiesteminenceinourneighbourhood,where,asyouascend,the hedges, as well as the trees, become scanty and stunted, the former, atlength,givingplace to roughstone fences,partlygreenedoverwith ivyandmoss, the latter to larchesandScotch fir-trees,or isolatedblackthorns. Thefields, being rough and stony, andwholly unfit for the plough,weremostly

devotedtotheposturingofsheepandcattle;thesoilwasthinandpoor:bitsofgreyrockhereandtherepeepedoutfromthegrassyhillocks;bilberry-plantsand heather—relics ofmore savagewildness—grewunder thewalls; and inmany of the enclosures, ragweeds and rushes usurped supremacy over thescantyherbage;butthesewerenotmyproperty.

Near the top of this hill, about two miles from Linden-Car, stoodWildfellHall,asuperannuatedmansionoftheElizabethanera,builtofdarkgreystone,venerableandpicturesquetolookat,butdoubtless,coldandgloomyenoughtoinhabit,withitsthickstonemullionsandlittlelatticedpanes,itstime-eatenair-holes,anditstoolonely,toounshelteredsituation,—onlyshieldedfromthewarofwindandweatherbyagroupofScotchfirs, themselveshalfblightedwithstorms,andlookingassternandgloomyastheHallitself.Behinditlayafewdesolatefields,andthenthebrownheath-cladsummitofthehill;beforeit(enclosedbystonewalls,andenteredbyanirongate,withlargeballsofgreygranite—similar to thosewhichdecorated the roofandgables—surmountingthegate-posts)wasagarden,—oncestockedwithsuchhardplantsandflowersascouldbestbrook thesoilandclimate,andsuch treesandshrubsascouldbest endure the gardener’s torturing shears, and most readily assume theshapeshechosetogivethem,—now,havingbeenleftsomanyyearsuntilledand untrimmed, abandoned to theweeds and the grass, to the frost and thewind,therainandthedrought,itpresentedaverysingularappearanceindeed.The close greenwalls of privet, that had bordered the principalwalk,weretwo-thirdswitheredaway, and the restgrownbeyondall reasonablebounds;theoldboxwoodswan,thatsatbesidethescraper,hadlostitsneckandhalfitsbody:thecastellatedtowersoflaurelinthemiddleofthegarden,thegiganticwarrior that stoodonone sideof thegateway, and the lion that guarded theother,weresproutedintosuchfantasticshapesasresemblednothingeitherinheaven or earth, or in the waters under the earth; but, to my youngimagination, they presented all of them a goblinish appearance, thatharmonisedwellwiththeghostlylegionsanddarktraditionsouroldnursehadtoldusrespectingthehauntedhallanditsdepartedoccupants.

IhadsucceededinkillingahawkandtwocrowswhenIcamewithinsightofthemansion; and then, relinquishing further depredations, I saunteredon, tohavealookattheoldplace,andseewhatchangeshadbeenwroughtinitbyitsnew inhabitant. Ididnot like togoquite to the front and stare inat thegate;but Ipausedbeside thegardenwall,and looked,andsawnochange—except in one wing, where the broken windows and dilapidated roof hadevidently been repaired, and where a thin wreath of smoke was curling upfromthestackofchimneys.

WhileIthusstood,leaningonmygun,andlookingupatthedarkgables,sunkin an idle reverie, weaving a tissue of wayward fancies, in which old

associationsandthefairyounghermit,nowwithinthosewalls,boreanearlyequalpart,Iheardaslightrustlingandscramblingjustwithinthegarden;and,glancing in the directionwhence the sound proceeded, I beheld a tiny handelevatedabovethewall:itclungtothetopmoststone,andthenanotherlittlehand was raised to take a firmer hold, and then appeared a small whiteforehead, surmountedwithwreaths of light brown hair,with a pair of deepblueeyesbeneath,andtheupperportionofadiminutiveivorynose.

Theeyesdidnotnoticeme,butsparkledwithgleeonbeholdingSancho,mybeautiful black and white setter, that was coursing about the field with itsmuzzletotheground.Thelittlecreatureraiseditsfaceandcalledaloudtothedog. The good-natured animal paused, looked up, andwagged his tail, butmadenofurtheradvances.Thechild(alittleboy,apparentlyaboutfiveyearsold) scrambled up to the top of the wall, and called again and again; butfindingthisofnoavail,apparentlymadeuphismind,likeMahomet,togotothemountain,sincethemountainwouldnotcometohim,andattemptedtogetover;butacrabbedoldcherry-tree,thatgrewhardby,caughthimbythefrockinoneofitscrookedscraggyarmsthatstretchedoverthewall.Inattemptingtodisengagehimself his foot slipped, anddownhe tumbled—butnot to theearth;—thetreestillkepthimsuspended.Therewasasilentstruggle,andthenapiercingshriek;—but,inaninstant,Ihaddroppedmygunonthegrass,andcaughtthelittlefellowinmyarms.

Iwipedhiseyeswithhisfrock,toldhimhewasallrightandcalledSanchotopacifyhim.Hewasjustputtinglittlehandonthedog’sneckandbeginningtosmilethroughhistears,whenIheardbehindmeaclickoftheirongate,andarustle of female garments, and lo!Mrs.Graham darted uponme—her neckuncovered,herblacklocksstreaminginthewind.

‘Givemethechild!’shesaid,inavoicescarcelouderthanawhisper,butwithatoneofstartlingvehemence,and,seizingtheboy,shesnatchedhimfromme,asifsomedirecontaminationwereinmytouch,andthenstoodwithonehandfirmly clasping his, the other on his shoulder, fixing upon me her large,luminousdarkeyes—pale,breathless,quiveringwithagitation.

‘Iwasnotharming thechild,madam,’ said I, scarceknowingwhether tobemostastonishedordispleased;‘hewastumblingoffthewallthere;andIwassofortunateastocatchhim,whilehehungsuspendedheadlongfromthattree,andpreventIknownotwhatcatastrophe.’

‘Ibegyourpardon,sir,’stammeredshe;—suddenlycalmingdown,—thelightof reason seeming to break upon her beclouded spirit, and a faint blushmantlingonhercheek—‘Ididnotknowyou;—andIthought—’

Shestoopedtokissthechild,andfondlyclaspedherarmroundhisneck.

‘YouthoughtIwasgoingtokidnapyourson,Isuppose?’

Shestrokedhisheadwithahalf-embarrassed laugh,andreplied,—‘Ididnotknowhehadattemptedtoclimbthewall.—IhavethepleasureofaddressingMr.Markham,Ibelieve?’sheadded,somewhatabruptly.

Ibowed,butventuredtoaskhowsheknewme.

‘Yoursistercalledhere,afewdaysago,withMrs.Markham.’

‘Is the resemblance so strong then?’ I asked, in some surprise, and not sogreatlyflatteredattheideaasIoughttohavebeen.

‘There is a likeness about the eyes and complexion I think,’ replied she,somewhatdubiouslysurveyingmyface;—‘andIthinkIsawyouatchurchonSunday.’

I smiled.—There was something either in that smile or the recollections itawakened thatwasparticularlydispleasing toher, for she suddenlyassumedagain thatproud, chilly look thathad sounspeakably rousedmyaversionatchurch—alookofrepellentscorn,soeasilyassumed,andsoentirelywithoutthe least distortion of a single feature, that, while there, it seemed like thenaturalexpressionof theface,andwasthemoreprovokingtome,becauseIcouldnotthinkitaffected.

‘Good-morning,Mr.Markham,’saidshe;andwithoutanotherwordorglance,shewithdrew,withherchild,intothegarden;andIreturnedhome,angryanddissatisfied—Icouldscarcelytellyouwhy,andthereforewillnotattemptit.

Ionlystayedtoputawaymygunandpowder-horn,andgivesomerequisitedirections to one of the farming-men, and then repaired to the vicarage, tosolace my spirit and soothe my ruffled temper with the company andconversationofElizaMillward.

Ifoundher,asusual,busywithsomepieceofsoftembroidery(themaniaforBerlin wools had not yet commenced), while her sister was seated at thechimney-corner,withthecatonherknee,mendingaheapofstockings.

‘Mary—Mary!putthemaway!’Elizawashastilysaying,justasIenteredtheroom.

‘Not I, indeed!’ was the phlegmatic reply; and my appearance preventedfurtherdiscussion.

‘You’resounfortunate,Mr.Markham!’observedtheyoungersister,withoneofherarch, sidelongglances. ‘Papa’s justgoneout into theparish, andnotlikelytobebackforanhour!’

‘Never mind; I can manage to spend a few minutes with his daughters, if

they’ll allow me,’ said I, bringing a chair to the fire, and seating myselftherein,withoutwaitingtobeasked.

‘Well,ifyou’llbeverygoodandamusing,weshallnotobject.’

‘Letyourpermissionbeunconditional,pray;forIcamenottogivepleasure,buttoseekit,’Ianswered.

However, I thought itbut reasonable tomake someslightexertion to rendermy company agreeable; andwhat little effort Imade,was apparently prettysuccessful,forMissElizawasneverinabetterhumour.Weseemed,indeed,tobemutuallypleasedwitheachother,andmanagedtomaintainbetweenusacheerful and animated though not very profound conversation. Itwas littlebetter than a tête-à-tête, for Miss Millward never opened her lips, exceptoccasionally to correct some random assertion or exaggerated expression ofher sister’s,andonce toaskher topickup theballofcotton thathad rolledunderthetable.Ididthismyself,however,asindutybound.

‘Thankyou,Mr.Markham,’saidshe,asIpresentedit toher. ‘Iwouldhavepickeditupmyself;onlyIdidnotwanttodisturbthecat.’

‘Mary, dear, thatwon’t excuse you inMr.Markham’s eyes,’ saidEliza; ‘hehates cats, I daresay, as cordially as he does old maids—like all othergentlemen.Don’tyou,Mr.Markham?’

‘Ibelieveitisnaturalforourunamiablesextodislikethecreatures,’repliedI;‘foryouladieslavishsomanycaressesuponthem.’

‘Bless them—little darlings!’ cried she, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm,turningroundandoverwhelminghersister’spetwithashowerofkisses.

‘Don’t, Eliza!’ said Miss Millward, somewhat gruffly, as she impatientlypushedheraway.

Butitwastimeformetobegoing:makewhathasteIwould,Ishouldstillbetoolatefortea;andmymotherwasthesouloforderandpunctuality.

Myfairfriendwasevidentlyunwillingtobidmeadieu. I tenderlysqueezedherlittlehandatparting;andsherepaidmewithoneofhersoftestsmilesandmost bewitching glances. Iwent home very happy,with a heart brimful ofcomplacencyformyself,andoverflowingwithloveforEliza.

CHAPTERIII

Twodaysafter,Mrs.GrahamcalledatLinden-Car,contrarytotheexpectation

ofRose,whoentertainedanideathatthemysteriousoccupantofWildfellHallwouldwhollydisregardthecommonobservancesofcivilizedlife,—inwhichopinionshewassupportedbytheWilsons,whotestifiedthatneithertheircallnortheMillwards’hadbeenreturnedasyet.Now,however,thecauseofthatomissionwasexplained,thoughnotentirelytothesatisfactionofRose.Mrs.Graham had brought her child with her, and on my mother’s expressingsurprisethathecouldwalksofar,shereplied,—‘Itisalongwalkforhim;butImusthaveeithertakenhimwithme,orrelinquishedthevisitaltogether;forIneverleavehimalone;andIthink,Mrs.Markham,Imustbegyoutomakemyexcuses to theMillwards andMrs.Wilson, when you see them, as I fear IcannotdomyselfthepleasureofcallinguponthemtillmylittleArthurisabletoaccompanyme.’

‘Butyouhaveaservant,’saidRose;‘couldyounotleavehimwithher?’

‘Shehasherownoccupationstoattendto;andbesides,sheis toooldtorunafterachild,andheistoomercurialtobetiedtoanelderlywoman.’

‘Butyoulefthimtocometochurch.’

‘Yes,once;butIwouldnothavelefthimforanyotherpurpose;andIthink,infuture,Imustcontrivetobringhimwithme,orstayathome.’

‘Ishesomischievous?’askedmymother,considerablyshocked.

‘No,’repliedthelady,sadlysmiling,asshestrokedthewavylocksofherson,whowasseatedonalowstoolatherfeet;‘butheismyonlytreasure,andIamhisonlyfriend:sowedon’tliketobeseparated.’

‘But,mydear, Icall thatdoting,’ saidmyplain-spokenparent. ‘Youshouldtry to suppress such foolish fondness, aswell to saveyour son from ruinasyourselffromridicule.’

‘Ruin!Mrs.Markham!’

‘Yes;itisspoilingthechild.Evenathisage,heoughtnottobealwaystiedtohismother’sapron-string;heshouldlearntobeashamedofit.’

‘Mrs.Markham,Ibegyouwillnotsaysuchthings,inhispresence,atleast.Itrustmy sonwill never be ashamed to love hismother!’ saidMrs.Graham,withaseriousenergythatstartledthecompany.

Mymother attempted to appease her by an explanation; but she seemed tothink enough had been said on the subject, and abruptly turned theconversation.

‘JustasIthought,’saidItomyself:‘thelady’stemperisnoneofthemildest,notwithstanding her sweet, pale face and lofty brow, where thought and

sufferingseemequallytohavestampedtheirimpress.’

AllthistimeIwasseatedatatableontheothersideoftheroom,apparentlyimmersed in the perusal of a volume of the Farmer’s Magazine, which Ihappenedtohavebeenreadingatthemomentofourvisitor’sarrival;and,notchoosing tobeovercivil, Ihadmerelybowedassheentered,andcontinuedmyoccupationasbefore.

Inalittlewhile,however,Iwassensiblethatsomeonewasapproachingme,with a light, but slow and hesitating tread. It was little Arthur, irresistiblyattractedbymydogSancho,thatwaslyingatmyfeet.OnlookingupIbeheldhimstandingabouttwoyardsoff,withhisclearblueeyeswistfullygazingonthe dog, transfixed to the spot, not by fear of the animal, but by a timiddisinclination to approach its master. A little encouragement, however,inducedhim to come forward. The child, though shy,wasnot sullen. In aminutehewaskneelingonthecarpet,withhisarmsroundSancho’sneck,and,inaminuteor twomore, the little fellowwasseatedonmyknee,surveyingwith eager interest the various specimens of horses, cattle, pigs, andmodelfarmsportrayed in thevolumebeforeme. Iglancedathismothernowandthen to see how she relished the new-sprung intimacy; and I saw, by theunquietaspectofhereye,thatforsomereasonorothershewasuneasyatthechild’sposition.

‘Arthur,’ said she, at length, ‘come here. You are troublesome to Mr.Markham:hewishestoread.’

‘Bynomeans,Mrs.Graham;praylethimstay. Iamasmuchamusedasheis,’pleadedI.Butstill,withhandandeye,shesilentlycalledhimtoherside.

‘No,mamma,’saidthechild;‘letmelookatthesepicturesfirst;andthenI’llcome,andtellyouallaboutthem.’

‘WearegoingtohaveasmallpartyonMonday,thefifthofNovember,’saidmymother;‘andIhopeyouwillnotrefusetomakeone,Mrs.Graham.Youcanbringyour littleboywithyou,youknow—Idaresayweshallbeable toamusehim;—andthenyoucanmakeyourownapologiestotheMillwardsandWilsons—theywillallbehere,Iexpect.’

‘Thankyou,Inevergotoparties.’

‘Oh!butthiswillbequiteafamilyconcern—earlyhours,andnobodyherebutourselves, and just theMillwards andWilsons, most of whom you alreadyknow, and Mr. Lawrence, your landlord, with whom you ought to makeacquaintance.’

‘I do know something of him—but you must excuse me this time; for theevenings, now, aredark anddamp, andArthur, I fear, is toodelicate to risk

exposure to their influencewith impunity. Wemust defer the enjoyment ofyourhospitalitytillthereturnoflongerdaysandwarmernights.’

Rose, now, at a hint from my mother, produced a decanter of wine, withaccompaniments of glasses and cake, from the cupboard and the oaksideboard,and the refreshmentwasdulypresented to theguests. Theybothpartookofthecake,butobstinatelyrefusedthewine,inspiteoftheirhostess’shospitableattemptstoforceituponthem.Arthur,especiallyshrankfromtherubynectarasifinterroranddisgust,andwasreadytocrywhenurgedtotakeit.

‘Nevermind,Arthur,’saidhismamma;‘Mrs.Markhamthinksitwilldoyougood,asyouweretiredwithyourwalk;butshewillnotobligeyoutotakeit!—Idaresayyouwilldoverywellwithout.Hedeteststheverysightofwine,’she added, ‘and the smell of it almost makes him sick. I have beenaccustomed tomakehimswallowa littlewineorweakspirits-and-water,bywayofmedicine,whenhewassick,and,infact,IhavedonewhatIcouldtomakehimhatethem.’

Everybodylaughed,excepttheyoungwidowandherson.

‘Well,Mrs.Graham,’saidmymother,wipingthetearsofmerrimentfromherbrightblueeyes—‘well,yousurpriseme!Ireallygaveyoucreditforhavingmore sense.—The poor child will be the veriest milksop that ever wassopped!Onlythinkwhatamanyouwillmakeofhim,ifyoupersistin—’

‘Ithinkitaveryexcellentplan,’interruptedMrs.Graham,withimperturbablegravity.‘BythatmeansIhopetosavehimfromonedegradingviceatleast.Iwish I could render the incentives to every other equally innoxious in hiscase.’

‘Butbysuchmeans,’saidI,‘youwillneverrenderhimvirtuous.—Whatisitthatconstitutesvirtue,Mrs.Graham?Isitthecircumstanceofbeingableandwillingtoresisttemptation;orthatofhavingnotemptationstoresist?—Isheastrong man that overcomes great obstacles and performs surprisingachievements, though by dint of greatmuscular exertion, and at the risk ofsomesubsequentfatigue,orhethatsitsinhischairallday,withnothingtodomore laborious thanstirring the fire,andcarryinghis food tohismouth? Ifyouwouldhaveyoursontowalkhonourablythroughtheworld,youmustnotattempt toclear the stones fromhispath,but teachhim towalk firmlyoverthem—notinsistuponleadinghimbythehand,butlethimlearntogoalone.’

‘Iwill leadhimby thehand,Mr.Markham, tillhehasstrength togoalone;andIwillclearasmanystonesfromhispathasIcan,andteachhimtoavoidthe rest—orwalk firmlyover them, as you say;—forwhen I havedonemyutmost,inthewayofclearance,therewillstillbeplentylefttoexerciseallthe

agility,steadiness,andcircumspectionhewilleverhave.—Itisallverywelltotalkaboutnobleresistance,andtrialsofvirtue;butforfifty—orfivehundredmen that have yielded to temptation, show me one that has had virtue toresist. And why should I take it for granted that my son will be one in athousand?—andnotratherpreparefortheworst,andsupposehewillbelikehis—liketherestofmankind,unlessItakecaretopreventit?’

‘Youareverycomplimentarytousall,’Iobserved.

‘Iknownothingaboutyou—IspeakofthoseIdoknow—andwhenIseethewholeraceofmankind(withafewrareexceptions)stumblingandblunderingalongthepathoflife,sinkingintoeverypitfall,andbreakingtheirshinsoverevery impediment that lies in theirway, shall I not use all themeans inmypowertoinsureforhimasmootherandasaferpassage?’

‘Yes, but the surest means will be to endeavour to fortify him againsttemptation,nottoremoveitoutofhisway.’

‘Iwilldoboth,Mr.Markham.Godknowshewillhavetemptationsenoughtoassailhim,bothfromwithinandwithout,whenIhavedoneallIcantorenderviceasuninvitingtohim,asitisabominableinitsownnature—Imyselfhavehad, indeed, but few incentives towhat theworld calls vice, but yet I haveexperienced temptations and trials of another kind, that have required, onmanyoccasions,morewatchfulnessandfirmnesstoresistthanIhavehithertobeen able tomuster against them. And this, I believe, iswhatmost otherswould acknowledgewho are accustomed to reflection, andwishful to striveagainsttheirnaturalcorruptions.’

‘Yes,’ saidmymother, but half apprehending her drift; ‘but youwould notjudgeofaboybyyourself—and,mydearMrs.Graham, letmewarnyouingoodtimeagainsttheerror—thefatalerror,Imaycallit—oftakingthatboy’seducation upon yourself. Because you are clever in some things and wellinformed,youmay fancyyourself equal to the task;but indeedyouarenot;and ifyoupersist in theattempt,believemeyouwillbitterly repent itwhenthemischiefisdone.’

‘I am to send him to school, I suppose, to learn to despise his mother’sauthorityandaffection!’saidthelady,withratherabittersmile.

‘Oh,no!—Butifyouwouldhaveaboytodespisehismother,letherkeephimathome,andspendherlifeinpettinghimup,andslavingtoindulgehisfolliesandcaprices.’

‘Iperfectlyagreewithyou,Mrs.Markham;butnothingcanbe further frommyprinciplesandpracticethansuchcriminalweaknessasthat.’

‘Well, but youwill treat him like a girl—you’ll spoil his spirit, andmake a

mereMissNancyofhim—youwill,indeed,Mrs.Graham,whateveryoumaythink. But I’ll getMr.Millward to talk to you about it:—he’ll tell you theconsequences;—he’llsetitbeforeyouasplainastheday;—andtellyouwhatyououghttodo,andallaboutit;—and,Idon’tdoubt,he’llbeabletoconvinceyouinaminute.’

‘No occasion to trouble the vicar,’ said Mrs. Graham, glancing at me—Isuppose Iwas smilingatmymother’sunboundedconfidence in thatworthygentleman—‘Mr.MarkhamherethinkshispowersofconvictionatleastequaltoMr.Millward’s.IfIhearnothim,neithershouldIbeconvincedthoughonerosefromthedead,hewouldtellyou.Well,Mr.Markham,youthatmaintainthat aboy shouldnotbe shielded fromevil,but sentout tobattle against it,aloneandunassisted—nottaughttoavoidthesnaresoflife,butboldlytorushintothem,orover them,ashemay—toseekdanger,rather thanshunit,andfeedhisvirtuebytemptation,—wouldyou—?’

‘Ibegyourpardon,Mrs.Graham—butyougetontoofast.Ihavenotyetsaidthataboyshouldbetaughttorushintothesnaresoflife,—orevenwilfullytoseektemptationforthesakeofexercisinghisvirtuebyovercomingit;—Ionlysay that it is better to arm and strengthen your hero, than to disarm andenfeeble the foe;—and if you were to rear an oak sapling in a hothouse,tendingitcarefullynightandday,andshieldingitfromeverybreathofwind,youcouldnotexpectittobecomeahardytree,likethatwhichhasgrownuponthemountain-side,exposedtoalltheactionoftheelements,andnotevenshelteredfromtheshockofthetempest.’

‘Granted;—butwouldyouusethesameargumentwithregardtoagirl?’

‘Certainlynot.’

‘No; youwould have her to be tenderly and delicately nurtured, like a hot-houseplant—taughttoclingtoothersfordirectionandsupport,andguarded,asmuch as possible, from the very knowledge of evil. Butwill you be sogoodastoinformmewhyyoumakethisdistinction?Isitthatyouthinkshehasnovirtue?’

‘Assuredlynot.’

‘Well,butyouaffirmthatvirtueisonlyelicitedbytemptation;—andyouthinkthat a woman cannot be too little exposed to temptation, or too littleacquaintedwithvice,oranythingconnectedtherewith.Itmustbeeitherthatyou think she is essentially so vicious, or so feeble-minded, that she cannotwithstand temptation,—and thoughshemaybepureand innocentas longasshe is kept in ignorance and restraint, yet, being destitute of real virtue, toteach her how to sin is at once to make her a sinner, and the greater herknowledge,thewiderherliberty,thedeeperwillbeherdepravity,—whereas,

in the nobler sex, there is a natural tendency to goodness, guarded by asuperiorfortitude,which,themoreitisexercisedbytrialsanddangers,isonlythefurtherdeveloped—’

‘HeavenforbidthatIshouldthinkso!’Iinterruptedheratlast.

‘Well,then,itmustbethatyouthinktheyarebothweakandpronetoerr,andtheslightesterror,themerestshadowofpollution,willruintheone,whilethecharacter of the other will be strengthened and embellished—his educationproperly finished by a little practical acquaintance with forbidden things.Such experience, to him (to use a trite simile),will be like the storm to theoak,which, though itmayscatter the leaves,andsnap thesmallerbranches,servesbuttorivettheroots,andtohardenandcondensethefibresofthetree.You would have us encourage our sons to prove all things by their ownexperience, while our daughters must not even profit by the experience ofothers.NowIwouldhavebothsotobenefitbytheexperienceofothers,andthepreceptsofahigherauthority,thattheyshouldknowbeforehandtorefusetheevilandchoosethegood,andrequirenoexperimentalproofstoteachthemtheeviloftransgression.Iwouldnotsendapoorgirlintotheworld,unarmedagainst her foes, and ignorant of the snares that beset her path; norwould Iwatchandguardher,till,deprivedofself-respectandself-reliance,shelostthepowerorthewilltowatchandguardherself;—andasformyson—ifIthoughthewouldgrowuptobewhatyoucallamanoftheworld—onethathas“seenlife,”andgloriesinhisexperience,eventhoughheshouldsofarprofitbyitasto sober down, at length, into a useful and respectedmember of society—Iwouldratherthathediedto-morrow!—ratherathousandtimes!’sheearnestlyrepeated,pressingherdarlingtohersideandkissinghisforeheadwithintenseaffection.Hehadalreadylefthisnewcompanion,andbeenstandingforsometimebesidehismother’sknee,lookingupintoherface,andlisteninginsilentwondertoherincomprehensiblediscourse.

‘Well!youladiesmustalwayshavethelastword,Isuppose,’saidI,observingherrise,andbegintotakeleaveofmymother.

‘Youmayhaveasmanywordsasyouplease,—onlyIcan’tstaytohearthem.’

‘No;thatistheway:youhearjustasmuchofanargumentasyouplease;andtherestmaybespokentothewind.’

‘Ifyouareanxious tosayanythingmoreon thesubject,’ repliedshe,as sheshookhandswithRose,‘youmustbringyoursistertoseemesomefineday,andI’lllisten,aspatientlyasyoucouldwish,towhateveryoupleasetosay.Iwould rather be lectured by you than the vicar, because I should have lessremorse in telling you, at the end of the discourse, that I preservemy ownopinionprecisely the sameas at thebeginning—aswouldbe the case, I am

persuaded,withregardtoeitherlogician.’

‘Yes,ofcourse,’repliedI,determinedtobeasprovokingasherself;‘forwhenaladydoesconsenttolistentoanargumentagainstherownopinions,sheisalways predetermined to withstand it—to listen only with her bodily ears,keepingthementalorgansresolutelyclosedagainstthestrongestreasoning.’

‘Good-morning,Mr.Markham,’saidmyfairantagonist,withapityingsmile;and deigning no further rejoinder, she slightly bowed, and was about towithdraw;butherson,withchildishimpertinence,arrestedherbyexclaiming,—‘Mamma,youhavenotshakenhandswithMr.Markham!’

She laughingly turned round and held out her hand. I gave it a spitefulsqueeze,forIwasannoyedatthecontinualinjusticeshehaddonemefromthevery dawn of our acquaintance. Without knowing anything about my realdisposition and principles, she was evidently prejudiced against me, andseemed bent upon showing me that her opinions respecting me, on everyparticular,fellfarbelowthoseIentertainedofmyself.Iwasnaturallytouchy,oritwouldnothavevexedmesomuch.Perhaps,too,Iwasalittlebitspoiledbymymotherandsister,andsomeotherladiesofmyacquaintance;—andyetIwasbynomeansa fop—of that I am fullyconvinced,whetheryouareornot.

CHAPTERIV

Our party, on the 5th of November, passed off very well, in spite of Mrs.Graham’srefusaltograceitwithherpresence.Indeed,itisprobablethat,hadshe been there, there would have been less cordiality, freedom, and frolicamongstusthantherewaswithouther.

Mymother,asusual,wascheerfulandchatty,fullofactivityandgood-nature,andonlyfaultyinbeingtooanxioustomakeherguestshappy,therebyforcingseveralofthemtodowhattheirsoulabhorredinthewayofeatingordrinking,sitting opposite the blazing fire, or talking when they would be silent.Nevertheless,theyboreitverywell,beingallintheirholidayhumours.

Mr. Millward was mighty in important dogmas and sententious jokes,pompousanecdotesandoraculardiscourses,dealtoutfortheedificationofthewholeassemblyingeneral,andoftheadmiringMrs.Markham,thepoliteMr.Lawrence, the sedate Mary Millward, the quiet Richard Wilson, and thematter-of-factRobertinparticular,—asbeingthemostattentivelisteners.

Mrs.Wilsonwasmorebrilliantthanever,withherbudgetsoffreshnewsand

old scandal, strung together with trivial questions and remarks, and oft-repeated observations, uttered apparently for the sole purpose of denying amoment’s rest to her inexhaustible organs of speech. She had brought herknittingwith her, and it seemed as if her tongue had laid awagerwith herfingers,tooutdotheminswiftandceaselessmotion.

Her daughter Jane was, of course, as graceful and elegant, as witty andseductive,asshecouldpossiblymanagetobe;forherewerealltheladiestooutshine,andall thegentlemen tocharm,—andMr.Lawrence,especially, tocapture and subdue. Her little arts to effect his subjugationwere too subtleand impalpable to attractmy observation; but I thought therewas a certainrefined affectation of superiority, and an ungenial self-consciousness abouther,thatnegativedallheradvantages;andaftershewasgone,Roseinterpretedto me her various looks, words, and actions with a mingled acuteness andasperity thatmademewonder, equally, at the lady’s artifice andmy sister’spenetration, and askmyself if she too had an eye to the squire—but nevermind,Halford;shehadnot.

Richard Wilson, Jane’s younger brother, sat in a corner, apparently good-tempered, but silent and shy, desirous to escape observation, but willingenoughtolistenandobserve:and,althoughsomewhatoutofhiselement,hewouldhavebeenhappyenoughinhisownquietway,ifmymothercouldonlyhavelethimalone;butinhermistakenkindness,shewouldkeeppersecutinghimwithher attentions—pressinguponhimallmannerofviands,under thenotion that he was too bashful to help himself, and obliging him to shoutacross the room his monosyllabic replies to the numerous questions andobservationsbywhichshevainlyattemptedtodrawhimintoconversation.

Roseinformedmethatheneverwouldhavefavoureduswithhiscompanybutfor the importunities of his sister Jane,whowasmost anxious to showMr.LawrencethatshehadatleastonebrothermoregentlemanlyandrefinedthanRobert.Thatworthyindividualshehadbeenequallysolicitoustokeepaway;butheaffirmedthathesawnoreasonwhyheshouldnotenjoyacrackwithMarkhamandtheold lady(mymotherwasnotold, really),andbonnyMissRoseandtheparson,aswellasthebest;—andhewasintherightofittoo.Sohe talked common-place with my mother and Rose, and discussed parishaffairswiththevicar,farmingmatterswithme,andpoliticswithusboth.

Mary Millward was another mute,—not so much tormented with cruelkindness as DickWilson, because she had a certain short, decided way ofansweringandrefusing,andwassupposedtoberathersullenthandiffident.However that might be, she certainly did not give much pleasure to thecompany;—nordidsheappeartoderivemuchfromit.Elizatoldmeshehadonly comebecause her father insisted upon it, having taken it into his head

thatshedevotedherselftooexclusivelytoherhouseholdduties,totheneglectof such relaxations and innocent enjoyments aswere proper to her age andsex.Sheseemedtometobegood-humouredenoughonthewhole.Onceortwice she was provoked to laughter by the wit or the merriment of somefavoured individual amongst us; and then I observed she sought the eye ofRichardWilson,whosatoveragainsther.Ashestudiedwithherfather,shehadsomeacquaintancewithhim,inspiteoftheretiringhabitsofboth,andIsupposetherewasakindoffellow-feelingestablishedbetweenthem.

My Eliza was charming beyond description, coquettish without affectation,andevidentlymoredesiroustoengagemyattentionthanthatofalltheroombesides. Her delight in havingme near her, seated or standing by her side,whisperinginherear,orpressingherhandinthedance,wasplainlylegibleinher glowing face and heaving bosom, however belied by saucy words andgestures. But I hadbetterholdmy tongue: if I boastof these thingsnow, Ishallhavetoblushhereafter.

Toproceed,then,withthevariousindividualsofourparty;Rosewassimpleandnaturalasusual,andfullofmirthandvivacity.

Ferguswas impertinentandabsurd;buthis impertinenceand folly served tomakeotherslaugh,iftheydidnotraisehimselfintheirestimation.

And finally (for I omit myself), Mr. Lawrence was gentlemanly andinoffensivetoall,andpolitetothevicarandtheladies,especiallyhishostessandherdaughter,andMissWilson—misguidedman;hehadnot the taste topreferElizaMillward.Mr.LawrenceandIwereontolerablyintimateterms.Essentiallyof reservedhabits, andbut seldomquitting thesecludedplaceofhisbirth,wherehehadlivedinsolitarystatesincethedeathofhisfather,hehad neither the opportunity nor the inclination for forming manyacquaintances;and,ofallhehadeverknown, I (judgingby the results)wasthecompanionmostagreeabletohistaste. Ilikedthemanwellenough,buthewastoocold,andshy,andself-contained,toobtainmycordialsympathies.A spirit of candour and frankness, when wholly unaccompanied withcoarseness, he admired in others, but he could not acquire it himself. Hisexcessivereserveuponallhisownconcernswas,indeed,provokingandchillyenough;butIforgaveit,fromaconvictionthatitoriginatedlessinprideandwantofconfidenceinhisfriends,thaninacertainmorbidfeelingofdelicacy,and a peculiar diffidence, that he was sensible of, but wanted energy toovercome.Hisheartwaslikeasensitiveplant,thatopensforamomentinthesunshine,butcurlsupandshrinksintoitselfattheslightesttouchofthefinger,orthelightestbreathofwind.And,uponthewhole,ourintimacywasratheramutualpredilectionthanadeepandsolidfriendship,suchashassincearisenbetween myself and you, Halford, whom, in spite of your occasional

crustiness, I can liken to nothing so well as an old coat, unimpeachable intexture, but easy and loose—that has conformed itself to the shape of thewearer,andwhichhemayuseashepleases,withoutbeingbotheredwiththefearofspoilingit;—whereasMr.Lawrencewaslikeanewgarment,allveryneatandtrimtolookat,butsotightintheelbows,thatyouwouldfeartosplittheseamsbytheunrestrictedmotionofyourarms,andsosmoothandfineinsurfacethatyouscrupletoexposeittoasingledropofrain.

Soon after the arrival of the guests, my mother mentioned Mrs. Graham,regrettedshewasnottheretomeetthem,andexplainedtotheMillwardsandWilsonsthereasonsshehadgivenforneglectingtoreturntheircalls,hopingtheywouldexcuseher, as shewas sure shedidnotmean tobeuncivil, andwouldbegladtoseethematanytime.—‘Butsheisaverysingularlady,Mr.Lawrence,’ added she; ‘we don’t knowwhat tomake of her—but I daresayyoucan tellussomethingabouther, forshe isyour tenant,youknow,—andshesaidsheknewyoualittle.’

All eyes were turned toMr. Lawrence. I thought he looked unnecessarilyconfusedatbeingsoappealedto.

‘I,Mrs.Markham!’saidhe;‘youaremistaken—Idon’t—thatis—Ihaveseenher, certainly; but I am the last person you should apply to for informationrespectingMrs.Graham.’

He then immediately turned to Rose, and asked her to favour the companywithasong,oratuneonthepiano.

‘No,’saidshe,‘youmustaskMissWilson:sheoutshinesusallinsinging,andmusictoo.’

MissWilsondemurred.

‘She’llsingreadilyenough,’saidFergus,‘ifyou’llundertaketostandbyher,Mr.Lawrence,andturnovertheleavesforher.’

‘Ishallbemosthappytodoso,MissWilson;willyouallowme?’

She bridled her long neck and smiled, and suffered him to lead her to theinstrument,wheresheplayedandsang,inherverybeststyle,onepieceafteranother;whilehestoodpatientlyby,leaningonehandonthebackofherchair,and turning over the leaves of her bookwith the other. Perhaps hewas asmuch charmedwithher performance as shewas. Itwas all very fine in itsway;butIcannotsaythatitmovedmeverydeeply.Therewasplentyofskillandexecution,butpreciouslittlefeeling.

ButwehadnotdonewithMrs.Grahamyet.

‘Idon’ttakewine,Mrs.Markham,’saidMr.Millward,upontheintroduction

of thatbeverage;‘I’ll takea littleofyourhome-brewedale. Ialwayspreferyourhome-brewedtoanythingelse.’

Flatteredatthiscompliment,mymotherrangthebell,andachinajugofourbest alewas presently brought and set before theworthy gentlemanwho sowellknewhowtoappreciateitsexcellences.

‘NowTHIS is the thing!’ cried he, pouring out a glass of the same in a longstream,skilfullydirectedfromthejugtothetumbler,soastoproducemuchfoamwithoutspillingadrop;and,havingsurveyeditforamomentoppositethe candle, he took a deep draught, and then smacked his lips, drew a longbreath, and refilled his glass, my mother looking on with the greatestsatisfaction.

‘There’snothing like this,Mrs.Markham!’ saidhe. ‘I alwaysmaintain thatthere’snothingtocomparewithyourhome-brewedale.’

‘I’msureI’mgladyoulikeit,sir.Ialwayslookafterthebrewingmyself,aswellasthecheeseandthebutter—Iliketohavethingswelldone,whilewe’reaboutit.’

‘Quiteright,Mrs.Markham!’

‘Butthen,Mr.Millward,youdon’tthinkitwrongtotakealittlewinenowandthen—or a little spirits either!’ said my mother, as she handed a smokingtumblerofgin-and-watertoMrs.Wilson,whoaffirmedthatwinesatheavyonherstomach,andwhosesonRobertwasatthatmomenthelpinghimselftoaprettystiffglassofthesame.

‘Bynomeans!’ replied theoracle,withaJove-likenod; ‘these thingsareallblessingsandmercies,ifweonlyknewhowtomakeuseofthem.’

‘ButMrs.Grahamdoesn’tthinkso.Youshalljusthearnowwhatshetoldustheotherday—ItoldherI’dtellyou.’

Andmymotherfavouredthecompanywithaparticularaccountofthatlady’smistaken ideas and conduct regarding the matter in hand, concluding with,‘Now,don’tyouthinkitiswrong?’

‘Wrong!’repeatedthevicar,withmorethancommonsolemnity—‘criminal,Ishould say—criminal! Not only is it making a fool of the boy, but it isdespisingthegiftsofProvidence,andteachinghimtotramplethemunderhisfeet.’

Hethenenteredmorefullyintothequestion,andexplainedatlargethefollyand impiety of such a proceeding. Mymother heard himwith profoundestreverence;andevenMrs.Wilsonvouchsafedtoresthertongueforamoment,and listen in silence,while she complacently sippedher gin-and-water. Mr.

Lawrence sat with his elbow on the table, carelessly playing with his half-emptywine-glass,andcovertlysmilingtohimself.

‘But don’t you think, Mr. Millward,’ suggested he, when at length thatgentlemanpausedinhisdiscourse,‘thatwhenachildmaybenaturallypronetointemperance—bythefaultofitsparentsorancestors,forinstance—someprecautions are advisable?’ (Now it was generally believed that Mr.Lawrence’sfatherhadshortenedhisdaysbyintemperance.)

‘Someprecautions,itmaybe;buttemperance,sir,isonething,andabstinenceanother.’

‘ButIhaveheardthat,withsomepersons,temperance—thatis,moderation—isalmostimpossible;andifabstinencebeanevil(whichsomehavedoubted),no one will deny that excess is a greater. Some parents have entirelyprohibited their children from tasting intoxicating liquors; but a parent’sauthority cannot last for ever; children are naturally prone to hanker afterforbiddenthings;andachild,insuchacase,wouldbelikelytohaveastrongcuriositytotaste,andtrytheeffectofwhathasbeensolaudedandenjoyedbyothers, so strictly forbidden to himself—which curiositywould generally begratified on the first convenient opportunity; and the restraint once broken,serious consequences might ensue. I don’t pretend to be a judge of suchmatters,butitseemstome,thatthisplanofMrs.Graham’s,asyoudescribeit,Mrs.Markham,extraordinaryasitmaybe, isnotwithoutitsadvantages;forhereyouseethechildisdeliveredatoncefromtemptation;hehasnosecretcuriosity, no hankering desire; he is as well acquainted with the temptingliquorsasheeverwishestobe;andisthoroughlydisgustedwiththem,withouthavingsufferedfromtheireffects.’

‘And is that right, sir? Have I not proven to you how wrong it is—howcontrarytoScriptureandtoreason,toteachachildtolookwithcontemptanddisgustupontheblessingsofProvidence,insteadoftousethemaright?’

‘You may consider laudanum a blessing of Providence, sir,’ replied Mr.Lawrence,smiling;‘andyet,youwillallowthatmostofushadbetterabstainfromit,eveninmoderation;but,’addedhe,‘Iwouldnotdesireyoutofollowoutmysimiletooclosely—inwitnesswhereofIfinishmyglass.’

‘Andtakeanother,Ihope,Mr.Lawrence,’saidmymother,pushingthebottletowardshim.

Hepolitelydeclined,andpushinghischairalittleawayfromthetable,leantback towards me—I was seated a trifle behind, on the sofa beside ElizaMillward—andcarelesslyaskedmeifIknewMrs.Graham.

‘Ihavemetheronceortwice,’Ireplied.

‘Whatdoyouthinkofher?’

‘IcannotsaythatI likehermuch. Sheishandsome—orratherIshouldsaydistinguishedandinteresting—inherappearance,butbynomeansamiable—awoman liable to take strong prejudices, I should fancy, and stick to themthrough thick and thin, twisting everything into conformity with her ownpreconceivedopinions—toohard,toosharp,toobitterformytaste.’

Hemadenoreply,butlookeddownandbithislip,andshortlyafterroseandsauntereduptoMissWilson,asmuchrepelledbyme,Ifancy,asattractedbyher.Iscarcelynoticeditatthetime,butafterwardsIwasledtorecallthisandothertriflingfacts,ofasimilarnature,tomyremembrance,when—butImustnotanticipate.

We wound up the evening with dancing—our worthy pastor thinking it noscandaltobepresentontheoccasion,thoughoneofthevillagemusicianswasengaged to direct our evolutions with his violin. But Mary Millwardobstinatelyrefusedtojoinus;andsodidRichardWilson,thoughmymotherearnestlyentreatedhimtodoso,andevenofferedtobehispartner.

Wemanagedverywellwithoutthem,however.Withasinglesetofquadrilles,andseveralcountrydances,wecarrieditontoaprettylatehour;andatlength,havingcalleduponourmusiciantostrikeupawaltz,IwasjustabouttowhirlEliza round in that delightful dance, accompanied by Lawrence and JaneWilson,andFergusandRose,whenMr.Millwardinterposedwith:—‘No,no;Idon’tallowthat!Come,it’stimetobegoingnow.’

‘Oh,no,papa!’pleadedEliza.

‘Hightime,mygirl—hightime!Moderationinallthings,remember!That’stheplan—“Letyourmoderationbeknownuntoallmen!”’

ButinrevengeIfollowedElizaintothedimly-lightedpassage,where,underpretence of helping her on with her shawl, I fear I must plead guilty tosnatchingakissbehindherfather’sback,whilehewasenvelopinghisthroatandchininthefoldsofamightycomforter.Butalas!inturninground,therewasmymotherclosebesideme.Theconsequencewas,thatnosoonerweretheguestsdeparted,thanIwasdoomedtoaveryseriousremonstrance,whichunpleasantly checked the galloping course of my spirits, and made adisagreeableclosetotheevening.

‘My dear Gilbert,’ said she, ‘I wish you wouldn’t do so! You know howdeeply I haveyour advantage at heart, how I loveyou andprize you aboveeverythingelseintheworld,andhowmuchIlongtoseeyouwellsettledinlife—andhowbitterlyitwouldgrievemetoseeyoumarriedtothatgirl—oranyother in theneighbourhood. Whatyousee inher Idon’tknow. It isn’t

only thewantofmoneythat I thinkabout—nothingof thekind—but there’sneither beauty, nor cleverness, nor goodness, nor anything else that’sdesirable.Ifyouknewyourownvalue,asIdo,youwouldn’tdreamofit.Dowait awhile and see! If you bind yourself to her, you’ll repent it all yourlifetimewhenyou look roundand seehowmanybetter thereare. Takemywordforit,youwill.’

‘Well,mother,dobequiet!—Ihate tobe lectured!—I’mnotgoing tomarryyet,Itellyou;but—dearme!mayn’tIenjoymyselfatall?’

‘Yes,mydearboy,butnotinthatway.Indeed,youshouldn’tdosuchthings.Youwouldbewrongingthegirl,ifshewerewhatsheoughttobe;butIassureyousheisasartfulalittlehussyasanybodyneedwishtosee;andyou’llgotentangledinhersnaresbeforeyouknowwhereyouare.Andifyoumarryher,Gilbert,you’llbreakmyheart—sothere’sanendofit.’

‘Well,don’tcryaboutit,mother,’saidI,forthetearsweregushingfromhereyes;‘there,letthatkisseffacetheoneIgaveEliza;don’tabuseheranymore,andsetyourmindatrest;forI’llpromisenever—thatis,I’llpromisetothinktwicebeforeItakeanyimportantstepyouseriouslydisapproveof.’

So saying, I lightedmy candle, andwent to bed, considerably quenched inspirit.

CHAPTERV

It was about the close of the month, that, yielding at length to the urgentimportunitiesofRose, Iaccompaniedher inavisit toWildfellHall. Tooursurprise,wewereusheredintoaroomwherethefirstobjectthatmettheeyewas 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 thewallwereseveralsketchesinvariousstagesofprogression,andafewfinishedpaintings—mostlyoflandscapesandfigures.

‘Imustmakeyouwelcometomystudio,’saidMrs.Graham;‘thereisnofirein the sitting-room to-day,and it is rather toocold to showyou intoaplacewithanemptygrate.’

And disengaging a couple of chairs from the artistical lumber that usurpedthem,shebidusbeseated,andresumedherplacebesidetheeasel—notfacingit exactly, but now and then glancing at the picture upon it while sheconversed,andgivingitanoccasionaltouchwithherbrush,asifshefounditimpossible toweanher attention entirely fromher occupation to fix it upon

herguests.ItwasaviewofWildfellHall,asseenatearlymorningfromthefieldbelow,risingindarkreliefagainstaskyofclearsilveryblue,withafewredstreaksonthehorizon,faithfullydrawnandcoloured,andveryelegantlyandartisticallyhandled.

‘Iseeyourheartisinyourwork,Mrs.Graham,’observedI:‘Imustbegyoutogo on with it; for if you suffer our presence to interrupt you, we shall beconstrainedtoregardourselvesasunwelcomeintruders.’

‘Oh, no!’ replied she, throwing her brush on to the table, as if startled intopoliteness.‘IamnotsobesetwithvisitorsbutthatIcanreadilyspareafewminutestothefewthatdofavourmewiththeircompany.’

‘Youhavealmostcompletedyourpainting,’saidI,approachingtoobserveitmoreclosely,andsurveyingitwithagreaterdegreeofadmirationanddelightthanIcaredtoexpress.‘Afewmoretouchesintheforegroundwillfinishit,Ishouldthink.ButwhyhaveyoucalleditFernleyManor,Cumberland,insteadofWildfell Hall,—shire?’ I asked, alluding to the name she had traced insmallcharactersatthebottomofthecanvas.

ButimmediatelyIwassensibleofhavingcommittedanactofimpertinenceinsodoing; forshecolouredandhesitated;butafteramoment’spause,withakindofdesperatefrankness,shereplied:—

‘BecauseIhavefriends—acquaintancesat least—intheworld,fromwhomIdesiremypresent abode tobe concealed; andas theymight see thepicture,andmightpossiblyrecognisethestyleinspiteofthefalseinitialsIhaveputinthecorner,Itaketheprecautiontogiveafalsenametotheplacealso,inordertoputthemonawrongscent,iftheyshouldattempttotracemeoutbyit.’

‘Thenyoudon’tintendtokeepthepicture?’saidI,anxioustosayanythingtochangethesubject.

‘No;Icannotaffordtopaintformyownamusement.’

‘MammasendsallherpicturestoLondon,’saidArthur;‘andsomebodysellsthemforherthere,andsendsusthemoney.’

Inlookingroundupontheotherpieces,IremarkedaprettysketchofLinden-hopefromthetopofthehill;anotherviewoftheoldhallbaskinginthesunnyhazeofaquietsummerafternoon;andasimplebutstrikinglittlepictureofachild brooding, with looks of silent but deep and sorrowful regret, over ahandful of withered flowers, with glimpses of dark low hills and autumnalfieldsbehindit,andadullbecloudedskyabove.

‘Youseethereisasaddearthofsubjects,’observedthefairartist.‘Itooktheoldhall onceon amoonlight night, and I suppose Imust take it againon a

snowywinter’sday,andthenagainonadarkcloudyevening;forIreallyhavenothingelse topaint. Ihavebeen told thatyouhavea fineviewof the seasomewhere in the neighbourhood. Is it true?—and is it within walkingdistance?’

‘Yes, ifyoudon’tobject towalkingfourmiles—ornearlyso—littleshortofeightmiles,thereandback—andoverasomewhatrough,fatiguingroad.’

‘Inwhatdirectiondoesitlie?’

I described the situation as well as I could, and was entering upon anexplanationof thevariousroads, lanes,andfields tobe traversed inorder toreachit,thegoingsstraighton,andturningstotherightandtheleft,whenshecheckedmewith,—

‘Oh, stop! don’t tell me now: I shall forget every word of your directionsbeforeIrequirethem.Ishallnotthinkaboutgoingtillnextspring;andthen,perhaps,Imaytroubleyou.Atpresentwehavethewinterbeforeus,and—’

Shesuddenlypaused,withasuppressedexclamation,startedupfromherseat,and saying, ‘Excuseme onemoment,’ hurried from the room, and shut thedoorbehindher.

Curioustoseewhathadstartledherso,Ilookedtowardsthewindow—forhereyeshadbeencarelesslyfixeduponitthemomentbefore—andjustbeheldtheskirtsofaman’scoatvanishingbehindalargeholly-bushthatstoodbetweenthewindowandtheporch.

‘It’smamma’sfriend,’saidArthur.

RoseandIlookedateachother.

‘Idon’tknowwhattomakeofheratall,’whisperedRose.

Thechildlookedatheringravesurprise.Shestraightwaybegantotalktohimon indifferentmatters,while I amusedmyselfwith looking at the pictures.TherewasoneinanobscurecornerthatIhadnotbeforeobserved.Itwasalittlechild,seatedonthegrasswithits lapfullofflowers. Thetinyfeaturesandlargeblueeyes,smilingthroughashockoflightbrowncurls,shakenovertheforeheadasitbentaboveitstreasure,boresufficientresemblancetothoseoftheyounggentlemanbeforemetoproclaimitaportraitofArthurGrahaminhisearlyinfancy.

Intakingthisuptobringittothelight,Idiscoveredanotherbehindit,withitsface to the wall. I ventured to take that up too. It was the portrait of agentlemaninthefullprimeofyouthfulmanhood—handsomeenough,andnotbadlyexecuted;but ifdoneby thesamehandas theothers, itwasevidentlysome years before; for therewas farmore carefulminuteness of detail, and

lessofthatfreshnessofcolouringandfreedomofhandlingthatdelightedandsurprisedmeinthem.Nevertheless,Isurveyeditwithconsiderableinterest.Therewasacertainindividualityinthefeaturesandexpressionthatstampedit,atonce,asuccessfullikeness.Thebrightblueeyesregardedthespectatorwith akindof lurkingdrollery—youalmost expected to see themwink; thelips—a little toovoluptuously full—seemed ready tobreak into a smile; thewarmly-tinted cheeks were embellished with a luxuriant growth of reddishwhiskers;while the bright chestnut hair, clustering in abundant,wavy curls,trespassedtoomuchupontheforehead,andseemedtointimatethattheownerthereof was prouder of his beauty than his intellect—as, perhaps, he hadreasontobe;andyethelookednofool.

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

‘Onlysomeonecomeaboutthepictures,’saidshe,inapologyforherabruptdeparture:‘Itoldhimtowait.’

‘Ifearitwillbeconsideredanactofimpertinence,’said‘topresumetolookatapicturethattheartisthasturnedtothewall;butmayIask—’

‘It isanactofverygreat impertinence, sir;and therefore Ibegyouwillasknothing about it, for your curiosity will not be gratified,’ replied she,attemptingtocoverthetartnessofherrebukewithasmile;butIcouldsee,byherflushedcheekandkindlingeye,thatshewasseriouslyannoyed.

‘I was only going to ask if you had painted it yourself,’ said I, sulkilyresigningthepictureintoherhands;forwithoutagrainofceremonyshetookitfromme;andquicklyrestoringittothedarkcorner,withitsfacetothewall,placedtheotheragainstitasbefore,andthenturnedtomeandlaughed.

But Iwas innohumour for jesting. I carelessly turned to thewindow, andstoodlookingoutuponthedesolategarden, leavinghertotalktoRoseforaminuteortwo;andthen,tellingmysisteritwastimetogo,shookhandswiththe littlegentleman,coollybowed to the lady,andmoved towards thedoor.But,havingbidadieutoRose,Mrs.Grahampresentedherhandtome,saying,withasoftvoice,andbynomeansadisagreeablesmile,—‘Letnotthesungodown upon your wrath, Mr. Markham. I’m sorry I offended you by myabruptness.’

When a lady condescends to apologise, there is no keeping one’s anger, ofcourse;sowepartedgoodfriendsforonce;andthistimeIsqueezedherhandwithacordial,notaspitefulpressure.

CHAPTERVI

During the next fourmonths I did not enterMrs. Graham’s house, nor shemine;butstilltheladiescontinuedtotalkabouther,andstillouracquaintancecontinued, though slowly, to advance. As for their talk, I paid but littleattention to that (when it related to the fair hermit, I mean), and the onlyinformationIderivedfromitwas,thatonefinefrostydayshehadventuredtotakeherlittleboyasfarasthevicarage,andthat,unfortunately,nobodywasathome butMissMillward; nevertheless, she had sat a long time, and, by allaccounts, theyhadfoundagooddeal tosaytoeachother,andpartedwithamutualdesiretomeetagain.ButMarylikedchildren,andfondmammaslikethosewhocandulyappreciatetheirtreasures.

ButsometimesIsawhermyself,notonlywhenshecametochurch,butwhenshe was out on the hills with her son, whether taking a long, purpose-likewalk,or—onspecialfinedays—leisurelyramblingoverthemoororthebleakpasture-lands, surrounding theoldhall, herselfwith abook inherhand,hersongambollingabouther;and,onanyoftheseoccasions,whenIcaughtsightof her in my solitary walks or rides, or while following my agriculturalpursuits,Igenerallycontrivedtomeetorovertakeher,forIratherlikedtoseeMrs. Graham, and to talk to her, and I decidedly liked to talk to her littlecompanion, whom, when once the ice of his shyness was fairly broken, Ifoundtobeaveryamiable, intelligent,andentertaininglittlefellow;andwesoonbecameexcellentfriends—howmuchtothegratificationofhismammaIcannotundertaketosay.Isuspectedatfirstthatshewasdesirousofthrowingcoldwateronthisgrowingintimacy—toquench,asitwere,thekindlingflameofourfriendship—butdiscovering,atlength,inspiteofherprejudiceagainstme, that I was perfectly harmless, and even well-intentioned, and that,betweenmyselfandmydog,hersonderivedagreatdealofpleasurefromtheacquaintance thathewouldnototherwisehaveknown, sheceased toobject,andevenwelcomedmycomingwithasmile.

AsforArthur,hewouldshouthiswelcomefromafar,andruntomeetmefiftyyardsfromhismother’sside.IfIhappenedtobeonhorsebackhewassuretogetacanteroragallop;or, if therewasoneof thedraughthorseswithinanavailabledistance,hewastreatedtoasteadyrideuponthat,whichservedhisturn almost aswell; but hismotherwould always follow and trudge besidehim—not so much, I believe, to ensure his safe conduct, as to see that Iinstillednoobjectionablenotionsintohisinfantmind,forshewaseveronthewatch,andneverwouldallowhimtobetakenoutofhersight.WhatpleasedherbestofallwastoseehimrompingandracingwithSancho,whileIwalkedbyherside—not,Ifear,forloveofmycompany(thoughIsometimesdeludedmyselfwiththat idea),somuchasfor thedelightshetookinseeingherson

thushappilyengagedintheenjoymentofthoseactivesportssoinvigoratingtohistenderframe,yetsoseldomexercisedforwantofplaymatessuitedtohisyears:and,perhaps,herpleasurewassweetenednotalittlebythefactofmybeingwithherinsteadofwithhim,andthereforeincapableofdoinghimanyinjurydirectlyor indirectly,designedlyorotherwise, small thanks toher forthatsame.

Butsometimes,Ibelieve,shereallyhadsomelittlegratificationinconversingwithme;andonebrightFebruarymorning,duringtwentyminutes’strollalongthemoor,shelaidasideherusualasperityandreserve,andfairlyenteredintoconversation with me, discoursing with so much eloquence and depth ofthoughtand feelingona subjecthappilycoincidingwithmyown ideas,andlooking so beautiful withal, that I went home enchanted; and on the way(morally)started to findmyself thinking that,afterall, itwould,perhaps,bebettertospendone’sdayswithsuchawomanthanwithElizaMillward;andthenI(figuratively)blushedformyinconstancy.

OnenteringtheparlourIfoundElizatherewithRose,andnooneelse. Thesurprisewasnotaltogethersoagreeableasitoughttohavebeen.Wechattedtogetheralongtime,butIfoundherratherfrivolous,andevenalittleinsipid,comparedwith themorematureandearnestMrs.Graham. Alas, forhumanconstancy!

‘However,’thoughtI,‘IoughtnottomarryEliza,sincemymothersostronglyobjectstoit,andIoughtnottodeludethegirlwiththeideathatIintendedtodoso.Now,ifthismoodcontinue,Ishallhavelessdifficultyinemancipatingmyaffections fromher softyetunrelenting sway;and, thoughMrs.Grahammightbeequallyobjectionable,Imaybepermitted,likethedoctors,tocureagreater evil by a less, for I shall not fall seriously in love with the youngwidow,Ithink,norshewithme—that’scertain—butifIfindalittlepleasureinhersocietyImaysurelybeallowedtoseekit;andifthestarofherdivinitybebrightenoughtodimthelustreofEliza’s,somuchthebetter,butIscarcelycanthinkit.’

And thereafter Iseldomsuffereda fineday topasswithoutpayingavisit toWildfellabout the timemynewacquaintanceusually leftherhermitage;butso frequently was I baulked in my expectations of another interview, sochangeablewassheinhertimesofcomingforthandinherplacesofresort,sotransient were the occasional glimpses I was able to obtain, that I felt halfinclined to think she took asmuchpains to avoidmycompany as I to seekhers;but thiswas toodisagreeableasupposition tobeentertainedamomentafteritcouldconvenientlybedismissed.

One calm, clear afternoon, however, inMarch, as I was superintending therollingofthemeadow-land,andtherepairingofahedgeinthevalley,Isaw

Mrs.Grahamdownbythebrook,withasketch-bookinherhand,absorbedinthe exercise of her favourite art,whileArthurwas putting on the timewithconstructingdamsandbreakwatersintheshallow,stonystream.Iwasratherinwantofamusement,andsorareanopportunitywasnottobeneglected;so,leavingbothmeadowandhedge,Iquicklyrepairedtothespot,butnotbeforeSancho,who, immediatelyuponperceivinghisyoung friend, scoured at fullgalloptheinterveningspace,andpounceduponhimwithanimpetuousmirththatprecipitatedthechildalmostintothemiddleofthebeck;but,happily,thestones preserved him from any serious wetting, while their smoothnesspreventedhisbeingtoomuchhurttolaughattheuntowardevent.

Mrs.Grahamwasstudyingthedistinctivecharactersofthedifferentvarietiesoftreesintheirwinternakedness,andcopying,withaspirited,thoughdelicatetouch, their various ramifications. She did not talk much, but I stood andwatched the progress of her pencil: it was a pleasure to behold it sodexterously guided by those fair and graceful fingers. But ere long theirdexterity became impaired, they began to hesitate, to tremble slightly, andmake false strokes, and then suddenly came to a pause, while their ownerlaughinglyraisedherfacetomine,andtoldmethathersketchdidnotprofitbymysuperintendence.

‘Then,’saidI,‘I’lltalktoArthurtillyou’vedone.’

‘I should like tohavea ride,Mr.Markham, ifmammawill letme,’ said thechild.

‘Whaton,myboy?’

‘I thinkthere’sahorseinthatfield,’repliedhe,pointingtowherethestrongblackmarewaspullingtheroller.

‘No,no,Arthur;it’stoofar,’objectedhismother.

But I promised to bring him safe back after a turn or twoup anddown themeadow;andwhenshelookedathiseagerfaceshesmiledandlethimgo.Itwas the first time she had even allowedme to take him somuch as half afield’slengthfromherside.

Enthroneduponhismonstroussteed,andsolemnlyproceedingupanddownthe wide, steep field, he looked the very incarnation of quiet, gleefulsatisfactionanddelight.Therolling,however,wassooncompleted;butwhenI dismounted the gallant horseman, and restored him to his mother, sheseemed rather displeased atmy keeping him so long. She had shut up hersketch-book, and been, probably, for some minutes impatiently waiting hisreturn.

It was now high time to go home, she said, andwould have bidme good-

evening,butIwasnotgoingtoleaveheryet:Iaccompaniedherhalf-wayupthehill. Shebecamemore sociable, and Iwasbeginning tobeveryhappy;but, on comingwithin sight of the grimold hall, she stood still, and turnedtowardsmewhile she spoke, as if expecting I shouldgono further, that theconversation would end here, and I should now take leave and depart—as,indeed,itwastimetodo,for‘theclear,coldeve’wasfast‘declining,’thesunhadset, and thegibbousmoonwasvisiblybrightening in thepalegreysky;butafeelingalmostofcompassionrivetedmetothespot.Itseemedhardtoleaveher to such a lonely, comfortlesshome. I lookedup at it. Silent andgrim it frowned; before us. A faint, red lightwasgleaming from the lowerwindowsofonewing,butalltheotherwindowswereindarkness,andmanyexhibited their black, cavernous gulfs, entirely destitute of glazing orframework.

‘Doyounotfinditadesolateplacetolivein?’saidI,afteramomentofsilentcontemplation.

‘Ido, sometimes,’ repliedshe. ‘Onwinterevenings,whenArthur is inbed,and I amsitting there alone,hearing thebleakwindmoaning roundmeandhowling through the ruinous old chambers, no books or occupations canrepressthedismalthoughtsandapprehensionsthatcomecrowdingin—butitisfollytogivewaytosuchweakness,Iknow.IfRachelissatisfiedwithsuchalife,whyshouldnotI?—Indeed,Icannotbetoothankfulforsuchanasylum,whileitisleftme.’

The closing sentence was uttered in an under-tone, as if spoken rather toherselfthantome.Shethenbidmegood-eveningandwithdrew.

IhadnotproceededmanystepsonmywayhomewardswhenIperceivedMr.Lawrence, on his pretty grey pony, coming up the rugged lane that crossedoverthehill-top.Iwentalittleoutofmywaytospeaktohim;forwehadnotmetforsometime.

‘WasthatMrs.Grahamyouwerespeakingtojustnow?’saidhe,afterthefirstfewwordsofgreetinghadpassedbetweenus.

‘Yes.’

‘Humph!Ithoughtso.’Helookedcontemplativelyathishorse’smane,asifhehadsomeseriouscauseofdissatisfactionwithit,orsomethingelse.

‘Well!whatthen?’

‘Oh,nothing!’repliedhe.‘OnlyIthoughtyoudislikedher,’hequietlyadded,curlinghisclassiclipwithaslightlysarcasticsmile.

‘SupposeIdid;mayn’tamanchangehismindonfurtheracquaintance?’

‘Yes, of course,’ returnedhe, nicely reducing an entanglement in the pony’sredundanthoarymane.Thensuddenlyturningtome,andfixinghisshy,hazeleyes upon me with a steady penetrating gaze, he added, ‘Then you havechangedyourmind?’

‘Ican’tsaythatIhaveexactly.No;IthinkIholdthesameopinionrespectingherasbefore—butslightlyameliorated.’

‘Oh!’ He lookedroundforsomethingelse to talkabout;andglancingupatthemoon,madesomeremarkuponthebeautyoftheevening,whichIdidnotanswer,asbeingirrelevanttothesubject.

‘Lawrence,’saidI,calmlylookinghimintheface,‘areyouinlovewithMrs.Graham?’

Insteadofhisbeingdeeplyoffendedat this,asImore thanhalfexpectedhewould,thefirststartofsurprise,attheaudaciousquestion,wasfollowedbyatitteringlaugh,asifhewashighlyamusedattheidea.

‘Iinlovewithher!’repeatedhe.‘Whatmakesyoudreamofsuchathing?’

‘Fromtheinterestyoutakeintheprogressofmyacquaintancewiththelady,and the changes of my opinion concerning her, I thought you might bejealous.’

Helaughedagain.‘Jealous!no.ButIthoughtyouweregoingtomarryElizaMillward.’

‘Youthoughtwrong,then;Iamnotgoingtomarryeitheroneortheother—thatIknowof—’

‘ThenIthinkyou’dbetterletthemalone.’

‘AreyougoingtomarryJaneWilson?’

He coloured, and played with the mane again, but answered—‘No, I thinknot.’

‘Thenyouhadbetterletheralone.’

‘Shewon’tletmealone,’hemighthavesaid;butheonlylookedsillyandsaidnothingforthespaceofhalfaminute,andthenmadeanotherattempttoturntheconversation;andthistimeIletitpass;forhehadborneenough:anotherwordonthesubjectwouldhavebeenlikethelastatomthatbreaksthecamel’sback.

Iwas too late for tea;butmymotherhadkindlykept the teapotandmuffinwarmuponthehobs,and,thoughshescoldedmealittle,readilyadmittedmyexcuses; and when I complained of the flavour of the overdrawn tea, she

pouredtheremainder intotheslop-basin,andbadeRoseputsomefreshintothe pot, and reboil the kettle, which offices were performed with greatcommotion,andcertainremarkablecomments.

‘Well!—ifithadbeenmenow,Ishouldhavehadnoteaatall—ifithadbeenFergus,even,hewouldhavetoputupwithsuchastherewas,andbeentoldtobethankful,foritwasfartoogoodforhim;butyou—wecan’tdotoomuchforyou.It’salwaysso—ifthere’sanythingparticularlyniceattable,mammawinks and nods at me to abstain from it, and if I don’t attend to that, shewhispers, “Don’t eat so much of that, Rose; Gilbert will like it for hissupper.”—I’mnothingatall.Intheparlour,it’s“Come,Rose,putawayyourthings,andlet’shavetheroomniceandtidyagainsttheycomein;andkeepupagood fire;Gilbert likesacheerful fire.” In thekitchen—“Make thatpiealargeone,Rose;Idaresaytheboys’llbehungry;anddon’tputsomuchpepperin, they’ll not like it, I’msure”—or, “Rose,don’tput somany spices in thepudding,Gilbert likes itplain,”—or,“Mindyouputplentyofcurrants in thecake,Ferguslikedplenty.”IfIsay,“Well,mamma,Idon’t,”I’mtoldIoughtnot to thinkofmyself. “Youknow,Rose, inallhouseholdmatters,wehaveonly two things to consider, first, what’s proper to be done; and, secondly,what’smostagreeabletothegentlemenofthehouse—anythingwilldofortheladies.”’

‘Andverygooddoctrinetoo,’saidmymother.‘Gilbertthinksso,I’msure.’

‘Veryconvenientdoctrine,forus,atallevents,’saidI;‘butifyouwouldreallystudy my pleasure, mother, you must consider your own comfort andconvenience a littlemore than you do—as forRose, I have no doubt she’lltake care of herself; and whenever she does make a sacrifice or perform aremarkableactofdevotedness,she’lltakegoodcaretoletmeknowtheextentofit. ButforyouImightsinkintothegrossestconditionofself-indulgenceand carelessness about the wants of others, from the mere habit of beingconstantly cared for myself, and having all my wants anticipated orimmediatelysupplied,whileleftintotalignoranceofwhatisdoneforme,—ifRose did not enlighten me now and then; and I should receive all yourkindnessasamatterofcourse,andneverknowhowmuchIoweyou.’

‘Ah! and you never will know, Gilbert, till you’re married. Then, whenyou’ve got some trifling, self-conceited girl likeElizaMillward, careless ofeverything but her own immediate pleasure and advantage, or somemisguided, obstinate woman, like Mrs. Graham, ignorant of her principalduties,andcleveronly inwhatconcernsher least toknow—thenyou’ll findthedifference.’

‘Itwilldomegood,mother;Iwasnotsentintotheworldmerelytoexercisethegoodcapacitiesandgoodfeelingsofothers—wasI?—buttoexertmyown

towards them; and when I marry, I shall expect to find more pleasure inmaking my wife happy and comfortable, than in being made so by her: Iwouldrathergivethanreceive.’

‘Oh!that’sallnonsense,mydear.It’smereboy’stalkthat!You’llsoontireofpettingandhumouringyourwife,besheeversocharming,andthencomesthetrial.’

‘Well,then,wemustbearoneanother’sburdens.’

‘Thenyoumustfalleachintoyourproperplace.You’lldoyourbusiness,andshe, if she’s worthy of you, will do hers; but it’s your business to pleaseyourself,andherstopleaseyou.I’msureyourpoor,dearfatherwasasgoodahusbandaseverlived,andafterthefirstsixmonthsorsowereover,Ishouldassoonhaveexpectedhimtofly,astoputhimselfoutofhiswaytopleasureme.HealwayssaidIwasagoodwife,anddidmyduty;andhealwaysdidhis—bless him!—he was steady and punctual, seldom found fault without areason, always did justice tomy good dinners, and hardly ever spoiledmycookerybydelay—andthat’sasmuchasanywomancanexpectofanyman.’

Is it so,Halford? Is that theextentofyourdomesticvirtues;anddoesyourhappywifeexactnomore?

CHAPTERVII

Notmanydaysafterthis,onamildsunnymorning—rathersoftunderfoot;forthelastfallofsnowwasonlyjustwastedaway,leavingyetathinridge,hereand there, lingering on the fresh green grass beneath the hedges; but besidethemalready,theyoungprimroseswerepeepingfromamongtheirmoist,darkfoliage,and the larkabovewas singingof summer,andhope,and love,andeveryheavenlything—Iwasoutonthehill-side,enjoyingthesedelights,andlookingafter thewell-beingofmyyounglambsandtheirmothers,when,onglancing roundme, I beheld three persons ascending from the vale below.TheywereElizaMillward,Fergus, andRose; so I crossed the field tomeetthem; and, being told they were going to Wildfell Hall, I declared myselfwillingtogowiththem,andofferingmyarmtoEliza,whoreadilyaccepteditin lieu of my brother’s, told the latter he might go back, for I wouldaccompanytheladies.

‘Ibegyourpardon!’exclaimedhe.‘It’stheladiesthatareaccompanyingme,notI them. Youhadallhadapeepat thiswonderfulstrangerbutme,andIcouldenduremywretchedignorancenolonger—comewhatwould,Imustbesatisfied;soIbeggedRosetogowithmetotheHall,andintroducemetoher

atonce.Shesworeshewouldnot,unlessMissElizawouldgotoo;soIrantothevicarageandfetchedher;andwe’vecomehookedalltheway,asfondasapairoflovers—andnowyou’vetakenherfromme;andyouwanttodeprivemeofmywalkandmyvisitbesides.Gobacktoyourfieldsandyourcattle,youlubberlyfellow;you’renotfittoassociatewithladiesandgentlemenlikeus, that have nothing to do but to run snooking about to our neighbours’houses,peepinginto theirprivatecorners,andscentingout theirsecrets,andpickingholesintheircoats,whenwedon’tfindthemreadymadetoourhands—youdon’tunderstandsuchrefinedsourcesofenjoyment.’

‘Can’t you both go?’ suggested Eliza, disregarding the latter half of thespeech.

‘Yes,both, tobe sure!’ criedRose; ‘themore themerrier—and I’msureweshallwantallthecheerfulnesswecancarrywithustothatgreat,dark,gloomyroom,with itsnarrow latticedwindows,and itsdismalold furniture—unlesssheshowsusintoherstudioagain.’

Sowewentall inabody;and themeagreoldmaid-servant, thatopened thedoor,usheredus intoanapartment suchasRosehaddescribed tomeas thesceneofherfirstintroductiontoMrs.Graham,atolerablyspaciousandloftyroom,butobscurelylightedbytheold-fashionedwindows,theceiling,panels,and chimney-piece of grim black oak—the latter elaborately but not verytastefully carved,—with tables and chairs tomatch, an old bookcase ononeside of the fire-place, stocked with a motley assemblage of books, and anelderlycabinetpianoontheother.

Theladywasseatedinastiff,high-backedarm-chair,withasmallroundtable,containingadeskandawork-basketononesideofher,andherlittleboyontheother,whostoodleaninghiselbowonherknee,andreadingtoher,withwonderful fluency, fromasmallvolumethat lay inher lap;whilesherestedherhandonhis shoulder, and abstractedlyplayedwith the long,wavycurlsthatfellonhisivoryneck.Theystruckmeasformingapleasingcontrasttoall the surrounding objects; but of course their position was immediatelychangedonourentrance.IcouldonlyobservethepictureduringthefewbriefsecondsthatRachelheldthedoorforouradmittance.

I do not thinkMrs.Grahamwas particularly delighted to see us: therewassomething indescribably chilly in her quiet, calm civility; but I did not talkmuchtoher.Seatingmyselfnearthewindow,alittlebackfromthecircle,Icalled Arthur to me, and he and I and Sancho amused ourselves verypleasantly together,while the twoyoung ladiesbaitedhismotherwithsmalltalk, and Fergus sat opposite with his legs crossed and his hands in hisbreeches-pockets,leaningbackinhischair,andstaringnowupattheceiling,now straight forward at his hostess (in a manner that made me strongly

inclinedtokickhimoutof theroom),nowwhistlingsottovocetohimselfasnatch of a favourite air, now interrupting the conversation, or filling up apause(asthecasemightbe)withsomemostimpertinentquestionorremark.At one time it was,—‘It, amazesme,Mrs. Graham, how you could choosesuchadilapidated,ricketyoldplaceasthistolivein.Ifyoucouldn’taffordtooccupythewholehouse,andhaveitmendedup,whycouldn’tyoutakeaneatlittlecottage?’

‘PerhapsIwastooproud,Mr.Fergus,’repliedshe,smiling;‘perhapsItookaparticular fancy for this romantic, old-fashioned place—but, indeed, it hasmany advantages over a cottage—in the first place, you see, the rooms arelargerandmoreairy;inthesecondplace,theunoccupiedapartments,whichIdon’tpayfor,mayserveaslumber-rooms,ifIhaveanythingtoputinthem;andtheyareveryusefulformylittleboytorunaboutinonrainydayswhenhecan’tgoout;andthenthereisthegardenforhimtoplayin,andformetoworkin.YouseeIhaveeffectedsomelittleimprovementalready,’continuedshe,turningtothewindow.‘Thereisabedofyoungvegetablesinthatcorner,andherearesomesnowdropsandprimrosesalreadyinbloom—andthere,too,isayellowcrocusjustopeninginthesunshine.’

‘But then how can you bear such a situation—your nearest neighbours twomilesdistant,andnobodylookinginorpassingby?Rosewouldgostarkmadinsuchaplace.Shecan’tputonlifeunlesssheseeshalfadozenfreshgownsand bonnets a day—not to speak of the faces within; but you might sitwatching at these windows all day long, and never see so much as an oldwomancarryinghereggstomarket.’

‘I am not sure the loneliness of the place was not one of its chiefrecommendations. I takenopleasure inwatchingpeoplepass thewindows;andIliketobequiet.’

‘Oh!asgoodastosayyouwishwewouldallofusmindourownbusiness,andletyoualone.’

‘No,Idislikeanextensiveacquaintance;butifIhaveafewfriends,ofcourseIamgladtoseethemoccasionally.Noonecanbehappyineternalsolitude.Therefore,Mr.Fergus,ifyouchoosetoentermyhouseasafriend,Iwillmakeyouwelcome;ifnot,Imustconfess,Iwouldratheryoukeptaway.’ShethenturnedandaddressedsomeobservationtoRoseorEliza.

‘And,Mrs.Graham,’saidheagain,fiveminutesafter,‘weweredisputing,aswe came along, a question that you can readily decide for us, as it mainlyregarded yourself—and, indeed, we often hold discussions about you; forsome of us have nothing better to do than to talk about our neighbours’concerns,andwe,theindigenousplantsofthesoil,haveknowneachotherso

long,andtalkedeachotheroversooften,thatwearequitesickofthatgame;so that a stranger coming amongst us makes an invaluable addition to ourexhausted sources of amusement. Well, the question, or questions, you arerequestedtosolve—’

‘Holdyourtongue,Fergus!’criedRose,inafeverofapprehensionandwrath.

‘Iwon’t,Itellyou.Thequestionsyouarerequestedtosolvearethese:—First,concerningyourbirth,extraction,andpreviousresidence. Somewillhaveitthat you are a foreigner, and some an Englishwoman; some a native of thenorthcountry,andsomeofthesouth;somesay—’

‘Well,Mr.Fergus,I’lltellyou.I’manEnglishwoman—andIdon’tseewhyanyoneshoulddoubtit—andIwasborninthecountry,neitherintheextremenorthnorsouthofourhappyisle;andinthecountryIhavechieflypassedmylife, and now I hope you are satisfied; for I amnot disposed to answer anymorequestionsatpresent.’

‘Exceptthis—’

‘No,notonemore!’ laughedshe, and, instantlyquittingher seat, she soughtrefuge at the window by which I was seated, and, in very desperation, toescapemybrother’spersecutions,endeavouredtodrawmeintoconversation.

‘Mr.Markham,’saidshe,herrapidutteranceandheightenedcolourtooplainlyevincing her disquietude, ‘have you forgotten the fine sea-view we werespeakingof some timeago? I think Imust troubleyou,now, to tellme thenearestway to it; for if this beautifulweather continue, I shall, perhaps, beabletowalkthere,andtakemysketch;Ihaveexhaustedeveryothersubjectforpainting;andIlongtoseeit.’

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

‘Oh,don’ttellher,Gilbert!’criedshe;‘sheshallgowithus.It’s—Bayyouarethinkingabout,Isuppose,Mrs.Graham?Itisaverylongwalk,toofarforyou,andoutofthequestionforArthur.Butwewerethinkingaboutmakingapicnictoseeitsomefineday;and,ifyouwillwaittillthesettledfineweathercomes,I’msureweshallallbedelightedtohaveyouamongstus.’

Poor Mrs. Graham looked dismayed, and attempted to make excuses, butRose, either compassionating her lonely life, or anxious to cultivate heracquaintance,wasdeterminedtohaveher;andeveryobjectionwasoverruled.Shewastolditwouldonlybeasmallparty,andallfriends,andthatthebestviewofallwasfrom—Cliffs,fullfivemilesdistant.

‘Justanicewalkforthegentlemen,’continuedRose;‘buttheladieswilldrive

andwalkbyturns;forweshallhaveourpony-carriage,whichwillbeplentylarge enough to contain little Arthur and three ladies, together with yoursketchingapparatus,andourprovisions.’

So the proposal was finally acceded to; and, after some further discussionrespectingthetimeandmanneroftheprojectedexcursion,werose,andtookourleave.

But thiswas onlyMarch: a cold,wetApril, and twoweeks ofMay passedoverbeforewecouldventureforthonourexpeditionwiththereasonablehopeof obtaining that pleasurewe sought in pleasant prospects, cheerful society,freshair,goodcheerandexercise,withoutthealloyofbadroads,coldwinds,or threateningclouds. Then,onagloriousmorning,wegatheredour forcesandsetforth.ThecompanyconsistedofMrs.andMasterGraham,MaryandEliza Millward, Jane and Richard Wilson, and Rose, Fergus, and GilbertMarkham.

Mr.Lawrencehadbeeninvitedtojoinus,but,forsomereasonbestknowntohimself, had refused to give us his company. I had solicited the favourmyself. WhenIdidso,hehesitated,andaskedwhoweregoing. UponmynamingMissWilsonamongtherest,heseemedhalfinclinedtogo,butwhenImentioned Mrs. Graham, thinking it might be a further inducement, itappeared to have a contrary effect, and he declined it altogether, and, toconfess the truth, the decision was not displeasing to me, though I couldscarcelytellyouwhy.

It was about midday when we reached the place of our destination. Mrs.Grahamwalkedall thewayto thecliffs;andlittleArthurwalkedthegreaterpartofittoo;forhewasnowmuchmorehardyandactivethanwhenhefirstentered the neighbourhood, and he did not like being in the carriage withstrangers,whileallhisfourfriends,mamma,andSancho,andMr.Markham,andMissMillward,wereon foot, journeying farbehind,orpassing throughdistantfieldsandlanes.

Ihaveaverypleasantrecollectionofthatwalk,alongthehard,white,sunnyroad,shadedhereandtherewithbrightgreentrees,andadornedwithflowerybanksandblossominghedgesofdeliciousfragrance;orthroughpleasantfieldsandlanes,allgloriousinthesweetflowersandbrilliantverdureofdelightfulMay.Itwastrue,Elizawasnotbesideme;butshewaswithherfriendsinthepony-carriage, as happy, I trusted, as Iwas; and evenwhenwe pedestrians,havingforsakenthehighwayforashortcutacrossthefields,beheldthelittlecarriage far away, disappearing amid the green, embowering trees, I did nothatethosetreesforsnatchingthedearlittlebonnetandshawlfrommysight,nordidIfeelthatallthoseinterveningobjectslaybetweenmyhappinessandme;for,toconfessthetruth,IwastoohappyinthecompanyofMrs.Graham

toregrettheabsenceofElizaMillward.

The former, it is true,wasmost provokingly unsociable at first—seeminglybent upon talking to no one butMaryMillward andArthur. She andMaryjourneyedalongtogether,generallywiththechildbetweenthem;—butwheretheroadpermitted,Ialwayswalkedontheothersideofher,RichardWilsontaking the other side of Miss Millward, and Fergus roving here and thereaccording tohis fancy; and, after awhile, shebecamemore friendly, andatlength I succeeded in securing her attention almost entirely tomyself—andthenIwashappyindeed;forwhenevershedidcondescendtoconverse,Ilikedto listen. Where her opinions and sentiments tallied withmine, it was herextremegoodsense,herexquisitetasteandfeeling,thatdelightedme;wherethey differed, it was still her uncompromising boldness in the avowal ordefenceofthatdifference,herearnestnessandkeenness,thatpiquedmyfancy:and even when she angered me by her unkind words or looks, and heruncharitableconclusionsrespectingme,itonlymademethemoredissatisfiedwithmyselfforhavingsounfavourablyimpressedher,andthemoredesiroustovindicatemycharacteranddispositioninhereyes,and,ifpossible,towinheresteem.

Atlengthourwalkwasended.Theincreasingheightandboldnessofthehillshad for some time intercepted theprospect;but,ongaining the summitof asteep acclivity, and looking downward, an opening lay before us—and theblue sea burst upon our sight!—deep violet blue—not deadly calm, butcovered with glinting breakers—diminutive white specks twinkling on itsbosom,andscarcelytobedistinguished,bythekeenestvision,fromthelittleseamewsthatsportedabove,theirwhitewingsglitteringinthesunshine:onlyoneortwovesselswerevisible,andthosewerefaraway.

Ilookedatmycompaniontoseewhatshethoughtofthisgloriousscene.Shesaidnothing:but she stood still, and fixedhereyesupon itwithagaze thatassuredmeshewasnotdisappointed. Shehadvery fineeyes,by-the-by—Idon’tknowwhetherIhavetoldyoubefore,buttheywerefullofsoul,large,clear, and nearly black—not brown, but very dark grey. A cool, revivingbreeze blew from the sea—soft, pure, salubrious: it waved her droopingringlets,andimpartedaliveliercolourtoherusuallytoopallidlipandcheek.Shefelt itsexhilaratinginfluence,andsodidI—Ifelt it tinglingthroughmyframe,butdarednotgivewaytoitwhilesheremainedsoquiet.Therewasanaspectofsubduedexhilarationinherface,thatkindledintoalmostasmileofexalted, glad intelligence as her eye met mine. Never had she looked solovely:neverhadmyheartsowarmlycleavedtoherasnow.Hadwebeenlefttwo minutes longer standing there alone, I cannot answer for theconsequences. Happily formydiscretion,perhaps formyenjoymentduringtheremainderof theday,wewerespeedilysummoned to therepast—avery

respectable collation,whichRose, assisted byMissWilson and Eliza,who,havingsharedherseatinthecarriage,hadarrivedwithheralittlebeforetherest,hadsetoutuponanelevatedplatformoverlookingthesea,andshelteredfromthehotsunbyashelvingrockandoverhangingtrees.

Mrs. Graham seated herself at a distance from me. Eliza was my nearestneighbour.Sheexertedherselftobeagreeable,inhergentle,unobtrusiveway,andwas,nodoubt,asfascinatingandcharmingasever, ifIcouldonlyhavefeltit.Butsoonmyheartbegantowarmtowardsheronceagain;andwewereall very merry and happy together—as far as I could see—throughout theprotractedsocialmeal.

When that was over, Rose summoned Fergus to help her to gather up thefragments, and theknives, dishes,&c., and restore them to thebaskets; andMrs.Grahamtookhercamp-stoolanddrawingmaterials;andhavingbeggedMissMillward to take chargeofherprecious son, and strictly enjoinedhimnot towanderfromhisnewguardian’sside,sheleftusandproceededalongthesteep,stonyhill,toaloftier,moreprecipitouseminenceatsomedistance,whence a still finer prospectwas to be had,where she preferred taking hersketch,thoughsomeoftheladiestoldheritwasafrightfulplace,andadvisedhernottoattemptit.

When shewas gone, I felt as if therewas to be nomore fun—though it isdifficulttosaywhatshehadcontributedtothehilarityoftheparty.Nojests,andlittlelaughter,hadescapedherlips;buthersmilehadanimatedmymirth;akeenobservationoracheerfulwordfromherhadinsensiblysharpenedmywits,andthrownaninterestoverallthatwasdoneandsaidbytherest.Evenmy conversation with Eliza had been enlivened by her presence, though Iknew it not; andnow that shewasgone,Eliza’s playful nonsense ceased toamuseme—nay,grewwearisome tomy soul, and I grewwearyof amusingher:Ifeltmyselfdrawnbyanirresistibleattractiontothatdistantpointwherethe fair artist sat and plied her solitary task—and not long did I attempt toresist it: while my little neighbour was exchanging a fewwords withMissWilson,Iroseandcannilyslippedaway.Afewrapidstrides,andalittleactiveclambering, soon broughtme to the placewhere shewas seated—a narrowledge of rock at the very verge of the cliff, which descended with a steep,precipitousslant,quitedowntotherockyshore.

Shedidnothearmecoming:thefallingofmyshadowacrossherpapergaveher an electric start; and she looked hastily round—any other lady of myacquaintancewouldhavescreamedundersuchasuddenalarm.

‘Oh! I didn’t know it was you.—Why did you startle me so?’ said she,somewhattestily.‘Ihateanybodytocomeuponmesounexpectedly.’

‘Why,whatdidyoutakemefor?’saidI:‘ifIhadknownyouweresonervous,Iwouldhavebeenmorecautious;but—’

‘Well,nevermind.Whatdidyoucomefor?aretheyallcoming?’

‘No;thislittleledgecouldscarcelycontainthemall.’

‘I’mglad,forI’mtiredoftalking.’

‘Well,then,Iwon’ttalk.I’llonlysitandwatchyourdrawing.’

‘Oh,butyouknowIdon’tlikethat.’

‘ThenI’llcontentmyselfwithadmiringthismagnificentprospect.’

Shemadenoobjectiontothis;and,forsometime,sketchedawayinsilence.ButIcouldnothelpstealingaglance,nowandthen,fromthesplendidviewatourfeet totheelegantwhitehandthatheldthepencil,andthegracefulneckandglossyravencurlsthatdroopedoverthepaper.

‘Now,’thoughtI,‘ifIhadbutapencilandamorselofpaper,Icouldmakealovelier sketch than hers, admitting I had the power to delineate faithfullywhatisbeforeme.’

But, though this satisfaction was deniedme, I was very well content to sitbesideherthere,andsaynothing.

‘Areyoutherestill,Mr.Markham?’saidsheatlength,lookingrounduponme—for Iwas seateda littlebehindonamossyprojectionof thecliff.—‘Whydon’tyougoandamuseyourselfwithyourfriends?’

‘Because I am tired of them, like you; and I shall have enough of them to-morrow—oratanytimehence;butyouImaynothavethepleasureofseeingagainforIknownothowlong.’

‘WhatwasArthurdoingwhenyoucameaway?’

‘He was with Miss Millward, where you left him—all right, but hopingmammawouldnotbelongaway.Youdidn’tintrusthimtome,by-the-by,’Igrumbled,‘thoughIhadthehonourofamuchlongeracquaintance;butMissMillwardhastheartofconciliatingandamusingchildren,’Icarelesslyadded,‘ifsheisgoodfornothingelse.’

‘MissMillward hasmany estimable qualities,which such as you cannot beexpectedtoperceiveorappreciate.WillyoutellArthurthatIshallcomeinafewminutes?’

‘Ifthatbethecase,Iwillwait,withyourpermission,tillthosefewminutesarepast;andthenIcanassistyoutodescendthisdifficultpath.’

‘Thankyou—Ialwaysmanagebest,onsuchoccasions,withoutassistance.’

‘But,atleast,Icancarryyourstoolandsketch-book.’

She did not deny me this favour; but I was rather offended at her evidentdesire tobe ridofme,andwasbeginning to repentofmypertinacity,whenshesomewhatappeasedmebyconsultingmytasteandjudgmentaboutsomedoubtfulmatter in her drawing. My opinion, happily,met her approbation,andtheimprovementIsuggestedwasadoptedwithouthesitation.

‘Ihaveoftenwished invain,’ said she, ‘for another’s judgment to appeal towhenIcouldscarcelytrustthedirectionofmyowneyeandhead,theyhavingbeensolongoccupiedwiththecontemplationofasingleobjectastobecomealmostincapableofformingaproperidearespectingit.’

‘That,’repliedI,‘isonlyoneofmanyevilstowhichasolitarylifeexposesus.’

‘True,’saidshe;andagainwerelapsedintosilence.

About two minutes after, however, she declared her sketch completed, andclosedthebook.

Onreturningtothesceneofourrepastwefoundallthecompanyhaddesertedit,with theexceptionof three—MaryMillward,RichardWilson,andArthurGraham.Theyoungergentlemanlayfastasleepwithhisheadpillowedonthelady’s lap; the other was seated beside her with a pocket edition of someclassicauthorinhishand.Heneverwentanywherewithoutsuchacompanionwherewithtoimprovehisleisuremoments:alltimeseemedlostthatwasnotdevoted to study, or exacted, by his physical nature, for the bare support oflife.Evennowhecouldnotabandonhimselftotheenjoymentofthatpureairandbalmy sunshine—that splendidprospect, and those soothing sounds, themusicofthewavesandofthesoftwindintheshelteringtreesabovehim—notevenwithaladybyhisside(thoughnotaverycharmingone,Iwillallow)—hemustpullouthisbook,andmakethemostofhistimewhiledigestinghistemperatemeal,andreposinghiswearylimbs,unusedtosomuchexercise.

Perhaps,however,hesparedamoment toexchangeawordoraglancewithhiscompanionnowandthen—atanyrate,shedidnotappearatallresentfulofhis conduct; for her homely features wore an expression of unusualcheerfulnessandserenity,andshewasstudyinghispale,thoughtfulfacewithgreatcomplacencywhenwearrived.

Thejourneyhomewardwasbynomeanssoagreeabletomeastheformerpartoftheday:fornowMrs.Grahamwasinthecarriage,andElizaMillwardwasthecompanionofmywalk. Shehadobservedmypreference for theyoungwidow,andevidentlyfeltherselfneglected.Shedidnotmanifestherchagrinbykeen reproaches,bitter sarcasms,orpouting sullen silence—anyorallof

theseIcouldeasilyhaveendured,orlightlylaughedaway;butsheshoweditbyakindofgentlemelancholy,amild,reproachfulsadnessthatcutmetotheheart.Itriedtocheerherup,andapparentlysucceededinsomedegree,beforethewalkwasover;butintheveryactmyconsciencereprovedme,knowing,as I did, that, sooner or later, the tie must be broken, and this was onlynourishingfalsehopesandputtingofftheevilday.

When the pony-carriage had approached as near Wildfell Hall as the roadwould permit—unless, indeed, it proceeded up the long rough lane, whichMrs. Graham would not allow—the young widow and her son alighted,relinquishing the driver’s seat to Rose; and I persuaded Eliza to take thelatter’splace.Havingputhercomfortablyin,bidhertakecareoftheeveningair, and wished her a kind good-night, I felt considerably relieved, andhastened tooffermy services toMrs.Graham to carryher apparatusup thefields, but she had already hung her camp-stool on her arm and taken hersketch-bookinherhand,andinsisteduponbiddingmeadieuthenandthere,withtherestofthecompany.ButthistimeshedeclinedmyprofferedaidinsokindandfriendlyamannerthatIalmostforgaveher.

CHAPTERVIII

Sixweeks had passed away. It was a splendidmorning about the close ofJune.Mostofthehaywascut,butthelastweekhadbeenveryunfavourable;and now that fineweatherwas come at last, being determined tomake themost of it, I had gathered all hands together into the hay-field, and wasworkingawaymyself,inthemidstofthem,inmyshirt-sleeves,withalight,shadystrawhatonmyhead,catchinguparmfulsofmoist,reekinggrass,andshaking it out to the four winds of heaven, at the head of a goodly file ofservantsandhirelings—intendingsotolabour,frommorningtillnight,withasmuch zeal and assiduity as I could look for from any of them, as well toprosper the work by my own exertion as to animate the workers by myexample—when lo! my resolutions were overthrown in a moment, by thesimplefactofmybrother’srunninguptomeandputtingintomyhandasmallparcel,justarrivedfromLondon,whichIhadbeenforsometimeexpecting.Itoreoffthecover,anddisclosedanelegantandportableeditionof‘Marmion.’

‘I guess I knowwho that’s for,’ said Fergus,who stood looking onwhile Icomplacentlyexaminedthevolume.‘That’sforMissEliza,now.’

Hepronouncedthiswithatoneandlooksoprodigiouslyknowing,thatIwasgladtocontradicthim.

‘You’rewrong,mylad,’saidI;and,takingupmycoat,Idepositedthebookinoneofitspockets,andthenputiton(i.e.thecoat).‘Nowcomehere,youidledog,andmakeyourselfusefulforonce,’Icontinued.‘Pulloffyourcoat,andtakemyplaceinthefieldtillIcomeback.’

‘Tillyoucomeback?—andwhereareyougoing,pray?‘Nomatterwhere—thewhenisallthatconcernsyou;—andIshallbebackbydinner,atleast.’

‘Oh—oh! and I’m to labour away till then, am I?—and to keep all thesefellows hard at it besides? Well, well! I’ll submit—for once in a way.—Come,mylads,youmustlooksharp:I’mcometohelpyounow:—andwoebeto that man, or woman either, that pauses for a moment amongst you—whethertostareabouthim,toscratchhishead,orblowhisnose—nopretextwillserve—nothingbutwork,work,workinthesweatofyourface,’&c.,&c.

Leaving him thus haranguing the people, more to their amusement thanedification, I returned to thehouse,and,havingmadesomealteration inmytoilet,hastenedawaytoWildfellHall,withthebookinmypocket;foritwasdestinedfortheshelvesofMrs.Graham.

‘What!thenhadsheandyougotonsowelltogetherastocometothegivingand receiving of presents?’—Not precisely, old buck; this was my firstexperimentinthatline;andIwasveryanxioustoseetheresultofit.

Wehadmetseveraltimessincethe—Bayexcursion,andIhadfoundshewasnot averse to my company, provided I confined my conversation to thediscussionof abstractmatters, or topicsof common interest;—themoment Itouched upon the sentimental or the complimentary, or made the slightestapproach to tenderness in word or look, I was not only punished by animmediatechangeinhermanneratthetime,butdoomedtofindhermorecoldanddistant,ifnotentirelyinaccessible,whennextIsoughthercompany.Thiscircumstancedidnotgreatlydisconcertme,however,because Iattributed it,not so much to any dislike of my person, as to some absolute resolutionagainst a second marriage formed prior to the time of our acquaintance,whetherfromexcessofaffectionforherlatehusband,orbecauseshehadhadenoughof himand thematrimonial state together. At first, indeed, shehadseemed to take a pleasure in mortifying my vanity and crushing mypresumption—relentlesslynippingoffbudbybudastheyventuredtoappear;and then, I confess, I was deeply wounded, though, at the same time,stimulated toseekrevenge;—but latterly finding,beyondadoubt, that Iwasnot thatempty-headedcoxcombshehadfirstsupposedme,shehadrepulsedmymodestadvancesinquiteadifferentspirit.Itwasakindofserious,almostsorrowfuldispleasure,whichIsoonlearntcarefullytoavoidawakening.

‘Letme first establishmy position as a friend,’ thought I—‘the patron and

playfellow of her son, the sober, solid, plain-dealing friend of herself, andthen,whenIhavemademyselffairlynecessarytohercomfortandenjoymentinlife(asIbelieveIcan),we’llseewhatnextmaybeeffected.’

So we talked about painting, poetry, and music, theology, geology, andphilosophy: once or twice I lent her a book, and once she lent me one inreturn:ImetherinherwalksasoftenasIcould;Icametoherhouseasoftenas Idared. My firstpretext for invading the sanctumwas tobringArthuralittlewaddlingpuppyofwhichSanchowasthefather,andwhichdelightedthechild beyond expression, and, consequently, could not fail to please hismamma.Mysecondwastobringhimabook,which,knowinghismother’sparticularity, I had carefully selected, and which I submitted for herapprobationbeforepresentingittohim.Then,Ibroughthersomeplantsforhergarden, inmy sister’sname—havingpreviouslypersuadedRose to sendthem.EachofthesetimesI inquiredafterthepictureshewaspaintingfromthesketchtakenonthecliff,andwasadmittedintothestudio,andaskedmyopinionoradvicerespectingitsprogress.

Mylastvisithadbeentoreturnthebookshehadlentme;andthenitwasthat,incasuallydiscussingthepoetryofSirWalterScott,shehadexpressedawishtosee‘Marmion,’andIhadconceivedthepresumptuousideaofmakingherapresentofit,and,onmyreturnhome,instantlysentforthesmartlittlevolumeIhadthismorningreceived.Butanapologyforinvadingthehermitagewasstill necessary; so I had furnished myself with a blue morocco collar forArthur’slittledog;andthatbeinggivenandreceived,withmuchmorejoyandgratitude,onthepartof thereceiver, thantheworthof thegiftor theselfishmotive of the giver deserved, I ventured to askMrs.Graham for onemorelookatthepicture,ifitwasstillthere.

‘Oh,yes!comein,’saidshe(forIhadmettheminthegarden).‘Itisfinishedandframed,allreadyforsendingaway;butgivemeyourlastopinion,andifyou can suggest any further improvement, it shall be—duly considered, atleast.’

Thepicturewasstrikinglybeautiful;itwastheverysceneitself,transferredasifbymagic to thecanvas;butIexpressedmyapprobationinguardedterms,andfewwords,forfearofdispleasingher.She,however,attentivelywatchedmy looks,andherartist’spridewasgratified,nodoubt, to readmyheartfeltadmiration in my eyes. But, while I gazed, I thought upon the book, andwonderedhowitwastobepresented. Myheartfailedme;butIdeterminednottobesuchafoolastocomeawaywithouthavingmadetheattempt.Itwasuselesswaitingforanopportunity,anduselesstryingtoconcoctaspeechfortheoccasion.Themoreplainlyandnaturallythethingwasdone,thebetter,Ithought;soIjustlookedoutofthewindowtoscrewupmycourage,andthen

pulled out the book, turned round, and put it into her hand,with this shortexplanation:

‘Youwerewishingtosee‘Marmion,’Mrs.Graham;andhereitis,ifyouwillbesokindastotakeit.’

Amomentaryblushsuffusedherface—perhaps,ablushofsympatheticshameforsuchanawkwardstyleofpresentation:shegravelyexaminedthevolumeon both sides; then silently turned over the leaves, knitting her brows thewhile, inseriouscogitation; thenclosedthebook,andturningfromit tome,quietlyaskedthepriceofit—Ifeltthehotbloodrushtomyface.

‘I’m sorry to offend you,Mr.Markham,’ said she, ‘but unless I pay for thebook,Icannottakeit.’Andshelaiditonthetable.

‘Whycannotyou?’

‘Because,’—shepaused,andlookedatthecarpet.

‘Whycannotyou?’Irepeated,withadegreeofirascibilitythatrousedhertolifthereyesandlookmesteadilyintheface.

‘BecauseIdon’tliketoputmyselfunderobligationsthatIcanneverrepay—Iam obliged to you already for your kindness to my son; but his gratefulaffectionandyourowngoodfeelingsmustrewardyouforthat.’

‘Nonsense!’ejaculatedI.

Sheturnedhereyesonmeagain,withalookofquiet,gravesurprise,thathadtheeffectofarebuke,whetherintendedforsuchornot.

‘Thenyouwon’ttakethebook?’Iasked,moremildlythanIhadyetspoken.

‘Iwillgladlytakeit,ifyouwillletmepayforit.’Itoldhertheexactprice,andthecostofthecarriagebesides,inascalmatoneasIcouldcommand—for,infact,Iwasreadytoweepwithdisappointmentandvexation.

Sheproducedherpurse,andcoollycountedoutthemoney,buthesitatedtoputitintomyhand.Attentivelyregardingme,inatoneofsoothingsoftness,sheobserved,—‘Youthinkyourselfinsulted,MrMarkham—IwishIcouldmakeyouunderstandthat—thatI—’

‘Idounderstandyou,perfectly,’Isaid.‘Youthinkthatifyouweretoacceptthat trifle from me now, I should presume upon it hereafter; but you aremistaken:—ifyouwillonlyobligemebytakingit,believeme,Ishallbuildnohopes upon it, and consider this no precedent for future favours:—and it isnonsensetotalkaboutputtingyourselfunderobligationstomewhenyoumustknowthatinsuchacasetheobligationisentirelyonmyside,—thefavouronyours.’

‘Well, then, I’ll take you at yourword,’ she answered,with amost angelicsmile,returningtheodiousmoneytoherpurse—‘butremember!’

‘Iwillremember—whatIhavesaid;—butdonotyoupunishmypresumptionbywithdrawingyourfriendshipentirelyfromme,—orexpectmetoatoneforitbybeingmoredistantthanbefore,’saidI,extendingmyhandtotakeleave,forIwastoomuchexcitedtoremain.

‘Well, then! let us be aswewere,’ replied she, frankly placing her hand inmine;andwhileIhelditthere,Ihadmuchdifficultytorefrainfrompressingitto my lips;—but that would be suicidal madness: I had been bold enoughalready,andthisprematureofferinghadwell-nighgiventhedeath-blowtomyhopes.

It was with an agitated, burning heart and brain that I hurried homewards,regardless of that scorching noonday sun—forgetful of everything but her Ihad just left—regretting nothing but her impenetrability, and my ownprecipitancyandwantoftact—fearingnothingbutherhatefulresolution,andmyinabilitytoovercomeit—hopingnothing—buthalt,—Iwillnotboreyouwithmyconflictinghopesandfears—myseriouscogitationsandresolves.

CHAPTERIX

Though my affections might now be said to be fairly weaned from ElizaMillward,Ididnotyetentirelyrelinquishmyvisitstothevicarage,becauseIwanted, as it were, to let her down easy; without raising much sorrow, orincurring much resentment,—or making myself the talk of the parish; andbesides, if Ihadwhollykept away, thevicar,who lookeduponmyvisits aspaid chiefly, if not entirely, to himself, would have felt himself decidedlyaffrontedbytheneglect. ButwhenIcalledtherethedayaftermyinterviewwith Mrs. Graham, he happened to be from home—a circumstance by nomeans so agreeable to me now as it had been on former occasions. MissMillwardwasthere,itistrue,butshe,ofcourse,wouldbelittlebetterthananonentity. However, I resolved tomakemyvisit a shortone, and to talk toElizainabrotherly,friendlysortofway,suchasourlongacquaintancemightwarrantmeinassuming,andwhich,Ithought,couldneithergiveoffencenorservetoencouragefalsehopes.

Itwasnevermycustom to talkaboutMrs.Grahameither toheroranyoneelse;butIhadnotbeenseatedthreeminutesbeforeshebroughtthatladyontothecarpetherselfinaratherremarkablemanner.

‘Oh,Mr.Markham!’ said she,witha shockedexpressionandvoicesubdued

almosttoawhisper,‘whatdoyouthinkoftheseshockingreportsaboutMrs.Graham?—canyouencourageustodisbelievethem?’

‘Whatreports?’

‘Ah,now!youknow!’sheslilysmiledandshookherhead.

‘Iknownothingaboutthem.Whatintheworlddoyoumean,Eliza?’

‘Oh,don’taskme!Ican’texplainit.’Shetookupthecambrichandkerchiefwhichshehadbeenbeautifyingwithadeeplaceborder,andbegantobeverybusy.

‘What is it,MissMillward? what does shemean?’ said I, appealing to hersister,whoseemedtobeabsorbedinthehemmingofalarge,coarsesheet.

‘Idon’tknow,’repliedshe.‘Someidleslandersomebodyhasbeeninventing,I suppose. I never heard it till Eliza toldme the other day,—but if all theparish dinned it inmy ears, I shouldn’t believe aword of it—I knowMrs.Grahamtoowell!’

‘Quiteright,MissMillward!—andsodoI—whateveritmaybe.’

‘Well,’observedEliza,withagentlesigh,‘it’swelltohavesuchacomfortableassuranceregardingtheworthofthosewelove.Ionlywishyoumaynotfindyourconfidencemisplaced.’

Andsheraisedherface,andgavemesuchalookofsorrowfultendernessasmighthavemeltedmyheart,butwithin thoseeyes there lurkedasomethingthatIdidnotlike;andIwonderedhowIevercouldhaveadmiredthem—hersister’shonestfaceandsmallgreyopticsappearedfarmoreagreeable.ButIwasoutoftemperwithElizaatthatmomentforherinsinuationsagainstMrs.Graham,whichwerefalse,Iwascertain,whethersheknewitornot.

Isaidnothingmoreonthesubject,however,atthetime,andbutlittleonanyother;for,findingIcouldnotwellrecovermyequanimity,Ipresentlyroseandtookleave,excusingmyselfunderthepleaofbusinessatthefarm;andtothefarmIwent,nottroublingmymindonewhitaboutthepossibletruthofthesemysteriousreports,butonlywonderingwhattheywere,bywhomoriginated,andonwhat foundations raised, andhow theycould themosteffectuallybesilencedordisproved.

Afewdaysafter thiswehadanotherofourquiet littleparties, towhich theusualcompanyoffriendsandneighbourshadbeeninvited,andMrs.Grahamamongthenumber.Shecouldnotnowabsentherselfunderthepleaofdarkeveningsorinclementweather,and,greatlytomyrelief,shecame. WithoutherIshouldhavefoundthewholeaffairanintolerablebore;butthemomentofherarrivalbroughtnewlifetothehouse,andthoughImightnotneglectthe

other guests for her, or expect to engross much of her attention andconversation to myself alone, I anticipated an evening of no commonenjoyment.

Mr.Lawrencecametoo. Hedidnotarrivetillsometimeafter therestwereassembled. I was curious to see how he would comport himself to Mrs.Graham.Aslightbowwasallthatpassedbetweenthemonhisentrance;andhavingpolitelygreetedtheothermembersofthecompany,heseatedhimselfquitealooffromtheyoungwidow,betweenmymotherandRose.

‘Didyoueverseesuchart?’whisperedEliza,whowasmynearestneighbour.‘Wouldyounotsaytheywereperfectstrangers?’

‘Almost;butwhatthen?’

‘Whatthen;why,youcan’tpretendtobeignorant?’

‘Ignorantofwhat?’demandedI,sosharplythatshestartedandreplied,—

‘Oh,hush!don’tspeaksoloud.’

‘Well,tellmethen,’Iansweredinalowertone,‘whatisityoumean?Ihateenigmas.’

‘Well, youknow, I don’t vouch for the truth of it—indeed, far from it—buthaven’tyouheard—?’

‘I’veheardnothing,exceptfromyou.’

‘Youmustbewilfullydeafthen,foranyonewilltellyouthat;butIshallonlyangeryoubyrepeatingit,Isee,soIhadbetterholdmytongue.’

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

‘Ifyouhadwishednot toangerme,youshouldhaveheldyour tonguefromthebeginning,orelsespokenoutplainlyandhonestlyallyouhadtosay.’

Sheturnedasideherface,pulledoutherhandkerchief, rose,andwent to thewindow,whereshestood for some time,evidentlydissolved in tears. Iwasastounded, provoked, ashamed—not so much of my harshness as for herchildishweakness. However,nooneseemed tonoticeher,andshortlyafterweweresummonedtothetea-table: inthoseparts itwascustomarytosit tothe table at tea-time on all occasions, andmake ameal of it, for we dinedearly.Ontakingmyseat,IhadRoseononesideofmeandanemptychairontheother.

‘MayIsitbyyou?’saidasoftvoiceatmyelbow.

‘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’resostern,Gilbert.’

Ihandeddownher teawithaslightlycontemptuoussmile,andsaidnothing,forIhadnothingtosay.

‘WhathaveIdonetooffendyou?’saidshe,moreplaintively.‘IwishIknew.’

‘Come, takeyour tea,Eliza, anddon’t be foolish,’ responded I, handingherthesugarandcream.

Justthentherearoseaslightcommotionontheothersideofme,occasionedbyMissWilson’scomingtonegotiateanexchangeofseatswithRose.

‘Will yoube so good as to exchangeplaceswithme,MissMarkham?’ saidshe;‘forIdon’tliketositbyMrs.Graham.Ifyourmammathinkspropertoinvitesuchpersonstoherhouse,shecannotobjecttoherdaughter’skeepingcompanywiththem.’

ThislatterclausewasaddedinasortofsoliloquywhenRosewasgone;butIwasnotpoliteenoughtoletitpass.

‘Willyoubesogoodastotellmewhatyoumean,MissWilson?’saidI.

Thequestionstartledheralittle,butnotmuch.

‘Why,Mr.Markham,’ repliedshe,coolly,havingquickly recoveredherself-possession, ‘it surprises me rather thatMrs.Markham should invite such apersonasMrs.Graham toherhouse;but,perhaps, she isnotaware that thelady’scharacterisconsideredscarcelyrespectable.’

‘Sheisnot,noramI;andthereforeyouwouldobligemebyexplainingyourmeaningalittlefurther.’

‘This isscarcely the timeor theplaceforsuchexplanations;but I thinkyoucanhardlybesoignorantasyoupretend—youmustknowheraswellasIdo.’

‘IthinkIdo,perhapsalittlebetter;andtherefore,ifyouwillinformmewhatyouhaveheardor imagined against her, I shall, perhaps, be able to set youright.’

‘Canyoutellme,then,whowasherhusband,orifsheeverhadany?’

Indignationkeptmesilent.AtsuchatimeandplaceIcouldnottrustmyselftoanswer.

‘Have you never observed,’ said Eliza, ‘what a striking likeness there isbetweenthatchildofhersand—’

‘Andwhom?’demandedMissWilson,withanairofcold,butkeenseverity.

Elizawasstartled;thetimidlyspokensuggestionhadbeenintendedformyearalone.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ pleaded she; ‘I may be mistaken—perhaps I wasmistaken.’ But she accompanied the words with a sly glance of derisiondirectedtomefromthecornerofherdisingenuouseye.

‘There’snoneedtoaskmypardon,’repliedherfriend,‘butIseenooneherethat at all resembles that child, except his mother, and when you hear ill-naturedreports,MissEliza,Iwillthankyou,thatis,Ithinkyouwilldowell,to refrain from repeating them. I presume the person you allude to isMr.Lawrence;butIthinkIcanassureyouthatyoursuspicions,inthatrespect,areutterlymisplaced;andifhehasanyparticularconnectionwiththeladyatall(whichnoonehas a right to assert), at leasthehas (what cannotbe saidofsome others) sufficient sense of propriety to withhold him fromacknowledginganythingmorethanabowingacquaintanceinthepresenceofrespectablepersons;hewasevidentlybothsurprisedandannoyedtofindherhere.’

‘Go it!’ cried Fergus, who sat on the other side of Eliza, andwas the onlyindividualwhosharedthatsideofthetablewithus.‘Goitlikebricks!mindyoudon’tleaveheronestoneuponanother.’

MissWilsondrewherselfupwithalookoffreezingscorn,butsaidnothing.Elizawouldhavereplied,butIinterruptedherbysayingascalmlyasIcould,though ina tonewhichbetrayed,nodoubt, some littleofwhat I feltwithin,—‘Wehavehadenoughof this subject; ifwecanonly speak to slanderourbetters,letusholdourtongues.’

‘Ithinkyou’dbetter,’observedFergus,‘andsodoesourgoodparson;hehasbeenaddressingthecompanyinhisrichestveinallthewhile,andeyeingyou,fromtimetotime,withlooksofsterndistaste,whileyousatthere,irreverentlywhispering and muttering together; and once he paused in the middle of astoryorasermon,Idon’tknowwhich,andfixedhiseyesuponyou,Gilbert,asmuchastosay,“WhenMr.MarkhamhasdoneflirtingwiththosetwoladiesIwillproceed.”’

Whatmorewassaidatthetea-tableIcannottell,norhowIfoundpatiencetosit till the meal was over. I remember, however, that I swallowed withdifficulty the remainderof the tea thatwas inmycup, and atenothing; andthat the first thing I didwas to stare atArthurGraham,who sat beside hismother on the opposite side of the table, and the second to stare at Mr.Lawrence,whosatbelow;and,first,itstruckmethattherewasalikeness;but,onfurthercontemplation,Iconcludeditwasonlyinimagination.

Both,itistrue,hadmoredelicatefeaturesandsmallerbonesthancommonly

fall to the lotof individualsof the rougher sex, andLawrence’s complexionwaspaleandclear, andArthur’sdelicately fair;butArthur’s tiny, somewhatsnubbynosecouldneverbecomesolongandstraightasMr.Lawrence’s;andthe outline of his face, though not full enough to be round, and too finelyconvergingtothesmall,dimpledchintobesquare,couldneverbedrawnouttothelongovaloftheother’s,whilethechild’shairwasevidentlyofalighter,warmertintthantheeldergentleman’shadeverbeen,andhislarge,clearblueeyes, thoughprematurely serious at times,wereutterlydissimilar to the shyhazeleyesofMr.Lawrence,whencethesensitivesoullookedsodistrustfullyforth, as ever ready to retire within, from the offences of a too rude, toouncongenialworld. Wretch that Iwas to harbour that detestable idea for amoment!DidInotknowMrs.Graham?HadInotseenher,conversedwithher time after time? Was I not certain that she, in intellect, in purity andelevationofsoul,wasimmeasurablysuperiortoanyofherdetractors;thatshewas, in fact, thenoblest, themostadorable,ofher sex Ihadeverbeheld,orevenimaginedtoexist?Yes,andIwouldsaywithMaryMillward(sensiblegirl as shewas), that if all the parish, ay, or all theworld, should din thesehorribleliesinmyears,Iwouldnotbelievethem,forIknewherbetterthanthey.

Meantime,mybrainwasonfirewithindignation,andmyheartseemedreadyto burst from its prison with conflicting passions. I regarded my two fairneighbourswithafeelingofabhorrenceandloathingIscarcelyendeavouredto conceal. I was rallied from several quarters for my abstraction andungallant neglect of the ladies; but I cared little for that: all I cared about,besidesthatonegrandsubjectofmythoughts,wastoseethecupstraveluptothetea-tray,andnotcomedownagain. I thoughtMr.Millwardneverwouldceasetellingusthathewasnotea-drinker,andthatitwashighlyinjurioustokeep loading the stomach with slops to the exclusion of more wholesomesustenance,andsogivehimselftimetofinishhisfourthcup.

At length itwasover; and I roseand left the table and theguestswithout awordof apology—I could endure their companyno longer. I rushedout tocoolmybraininthebalmyeveningair,andtocomposemymindorindulgemypassionatethoughtsinthesolitudeofthegarden.

ToavoidbeingseenfromthewindowsIwentdownaquietlittleavenuethatskirtedonesideoftheinclosure,atthebottomofwhichwasaseatemboweredin roses and honeysuckles. Here I sat down to think over the virtues andwrongs of the lady of Wildfell Hall; but I had not been so occupied twominutes,beforevoicesandlaughter,andglimpsesofmovingobjectsthroughthetrees,informedmethatthewholecompanyhadturnedouttotakeanairinginthegardentoo.However,Inestledupinacornerofthebower,andhopedtoretainpossessionofit,securealikefromobservationandintrusion.Butno

—confoundit—therewassomeonecomingdowntheavenue!Whycouldn’ttheyenjoytheflowersandsunshineoftheopengarden,andleavethatsunlessnooktome,andthegnatsandmidges?

But, peeping through my fragrant screen of the interwoven branches todiscoverwhotheintruderswere(foramurmurofvoicestoldmeitwasmorethanone),myvexationinstantlysubsided,andfarotherfeelingsagitatedmystillunquietsoul;fortherewasMrs.Graham,slowlymovingdownthewalkwithArthur by her side, and no one else. Whywere they alone? Had thepoison of detracting tongues already spread through all; and had they allturned theirbacksuponher? InowrecollectedhavingseenMrs.Wilson, inthe early part of the evening, edging her chair close up tomymother, andbending forward, evidently in the delivery of some important confidentialintelligence; and from the incessant wagging of her head, the frequentdistortions of her wrinkled physiognomy, and the winking and malicioustwinkleofherlittleuglyeyes,Ijudgeditwassomespicypieceofscandalthatengaged her powers; and from the cautious privacy of the communication Isupposedsomepersonthenpresentwasthelucklessobjectofhercalumnies:and from all these tokens, togetherwithmymother’s looks and gestures ofmingledhorrorandincredulity,InowconcludedthatobjecttohavebeenMrs.Graham.Ididnotemergefrommyplaceofconcealmenttillshehadnearlyreached the bottomof thewalk, lestmy appearance should drive her away;andwhenIdidstepforwardshestoodstillandseemedinclinedtoturnbackasitwas.

‘Oh,don’tletusdisturbyou,Mr.Markham!’saidshe.‘Wecameheretoseekretirementourselves,nottointrudeonyourseclusion.’

‘Iamnohermit,Mrs.Graham—thoughIownitlooksratherlikeittoabsentmyselfinthisuncourteousfashionfrommyguests.’

‘Ifearedyouwereunwell,’saidshe,withalookofrealconcern.

‘Iwasrather,butit’sovernow.Dositherealittleandrest,andtellmehowyoulikethisarbour,’saidI,and,liftingArthurbytheshoulders,Iplantedhiminthemiddleoftheseatbywayofsecuringhismamma,who,acknowledgingit tobea temptingplaceofrefuge, threwherselfbackinonecorner,whileItookpossessionoftheother.

But thatword refugedisturbedme. Had theirunkindness then reallydrivenhertoseekforpeaceinsolitude?

‘Whyhavetheyleftyoualone?’Iasked.

‘ItisIwhohaveleftthem,’wasthesmilingrejoinder.‘Iwasweariedtodeathwithsmalltalk—nothingwearsmeoutlikethat. Icannotimaginehowthey

cangoonastheydo.’

Icouldnothelpsmilingattheseriousdepthofherwonderment.

‘Isitthattheythinkitadutytobecontinuallytalking,’pursuedshe:‘andsoneverpausetothink,butfillupwithaimlesstriflesandvainrepetitionswhensubjects of real interest fail to present themselves, or do they really take apleasureinsuchdiscourse?’

‘Verylikelytheydo,’saidI;‘theirshallowmindscanholdnogreatideas,andtheirlightheadsarecarriedawaybytrivialitiesthatwouldnotmoveabetter-furnishedskull;andtheironlyalternativetosuchdiscourseistoplungeoverheadandearsintothesloughofscandal—whichistheirchiefdelight.’

‘Not all of them, surely?’ cried the lady, astonished at the bitterness ofmyremark.

‘No, certainly; I exonerate my sister from such degraded tastes, and mymothertoo,ifyouincludedherinyouranimadversions.’

‘I meant no animadversions against any one, and certainly intended nodisrespectfulallusions toyourmother. Ihaveknownsomesensiblepersonsgreatadeptsinthatstyleofconversationwhencircumstancesimpelledthemtoit;butitisagiftIcannotboastthepossessionof.IkeptupmyattentiononthisoccasionaslongasIcould,butwhenmypowerswereexhaustedIstoleaway toseeka fewminutes’ repose in thisquietwalk. Ihate talkingwherethereisnoexchangeofideasorsentiments,andnogoodgivenorreceived.’

‘Well,’saidI,‘ifeverItroubleyouwithmyloquacity,tellmesoatonce,andIpromisenottobeoffended;forIpossessthefacultyofenjoyingthecompanyofthoseI—ofmyfriendsaswellinsilenceasinconversation.’

‘Idon’tquitebelieveyou;but if itweresoyouwouldexactlysuitme foracompanion.’

‘Iamallyouwish,then,inotherrespects?’

‘No, I don’tmean that. How beautiful those little clusters of foliage look,wherethesuncomesthroughbehindthem!’saidshe,onpurposetochangethesubject.

And they did look beautiful, where at intervals the level rays of the sunpenetratingthethicknessoftreesandshrubsontheoppositesideofthepathbefore us, relieved their dusky verdure by displaying patches of semi-transparentleavesofresplendentgoldengreen.

‘IalmostwishIwerenotapainter,’observedmycompanion.

‘Why so? one would think at such a time you would most exult in your

privilegeofbeingabletoimitatethevariousbrilliantanddelightfultouchesofnature.’

‘No; for instead of delivering myself up to the full enjoyment of them asothersdo,IamalwaystroublingmyheadabouthowIcouldproducethesameeffect upon canvas; and as that can never be done, it is more vanity andvexationofspirit.’

‘Perhapsyoucannotdoittosatisfyyourself,butyoumayanddosucceedindelightingotherswiththeresultofyourendeavours.’

‘Well, after all, I should not complain: perhaps few people gain theirlivelihood with so much pleasure in their toil as I do. Here is some onecoming.’

Sheseemedvexedattheinterruption.

‘It isonlyMr.LawrenceandMissWilson,’ said I, ‘coming toenjoyaquietstroll.Theywillnotdisturbus.’

Icouldnotquitedeciphertheexpressionofherface;butIwassatisfiedtherewasnojealousytherein.WhatbusinesshadItolookforit?

‘WhatsortofapersonisMissWilson?’sheasked.

‘Sheiselegantandaccomplishedabovethegeneralityofherbirthandstation;andsomesaysheisladylikeandagreeable.’

‘Ithoughthersomewhatfrigidandrathersuperciliousinhermannerto-day.’

‘Verylikelyshemightbesotoyou.Shehaspossiblytakenaprejudiceagainstyou,forIthinksheregardsyouinthelightofarival.’

‘Me!Impossible,Mr.Markham!’saidshe,evidentlyastonishedandannoyed.

‘Well,Iknownothingaboutit,’returnedI,ratherdoggedly;forIthoughtherannoyancewaschieflyagainstmyself.

Thepairhadnowapproachedwithinafewpacesofus. Ourarbourwassetsnuglybackinacorner,beforewhichtheavenueatitsterminationturnedoffintothemoreairywalkalongthebottomofthegarden.Astheyapproachedthis, I saw, by the aspect of Jane Wilson, that she was directing hercompanion’sattentiontous;and,aswellbyhercold,sarcasticsmileasbythefewisolatedwordsofherdiscoursethatreachedme,Iknewfullwellthatshewas impressing him with the idea, that we were strongly attached to eachother.Inoticedthathecoloureduptothetemples,gaveusonefurtiveglanceinpassing,andwalkedon,lookinggrave,butseeminglyofferingnoreplytoherremarks.

Itwastrue,then,thathehadsomedesignsuponMrs.Graham;and,weretheyhonourable,hewouldnotbesoanxioustoconcealthem.Shewasblameless,ofcourse,buthewasdetestablebeyondallcount.

Whilethesethoughtsflashedthroughmymind,mycompanionabruptlyrose,and calling her son, said theywould now go in quest of the company, anddeparted up the avenue. Doubtless she had heard or guessed something ofMissWilson’sremarks,andthereforeitwasnaturalenoughsheshouldchoosetocontinuethetête-à-têtenolonger,especiallyasatthatmomentmycheekswereburningwith indignationagainstmy former friend, the tokenofwhichshemightmistakeforablushofstupidembarrassment.ForthisIowedMissWilsonyetanothergrudge;andstillthemoreIthoughtuponherconductthemoreIhatedher.

ItwaslateintheeveningbeforeIjoinedthecompany.IfoundMrs.Grahamalready equipped for departure, and taking leave of the rest,whowere nowreturned to thehouse. I offered, nay, begged to accompanyherhome. Mr.Lawrencewasstandingbyatthetimeconversingwithsomeoneelse.Hedidnotlookatus,but,onhearingmyearnestrequest,hepausedinthemiddleofasentencetolistenforherreply,andwenton,withalookofquietsatisfaction,themomenthefounditwastobeadenial.

Adenial itwas,decided, thoughnotunkind. Shecouldnotbepersuaded tothinktherewasdangerforherselforherchildintraversingthoselonelylanesand fieldswithout attendance. Itwasdaylight still, and she shouldmeetnoone;orifshedid,thepeoplewerequietandharmlessshewaswellassured.Infact, she would not hear of any one’s putting himself out of the way toaccompanyher, thoughFergus vouchsafed to offer his services in case theyshouldbemoreacceptablethanmine,andmymotherbeggedshemightsendoneofthefarming-mentoescorther.

Whenshewasgonetherestwasallablankorworse.Lawrenceattemptedtodrawmeintoconversation,butIsnubbedhimandwenttoanotherpartoftheroom.Shortlyafterthepartybrokeupandhehimself tookleave. WhenhecametomeIwasblindtohisextendedhand,anddeaftohisgood-nighttillherepeateditasecondtime;andthen,togetridofhim,Imutteredaninarticulatereply,accompaniedbyasulkynod.

‘Whatisthematter,Markham?’whisperedhe.

Irepliedbyawrathfulandcontemptuousstare.

‘AreyouangrybecauseMrs.Grahamwouldnotletyougohomewithher?’heasked,withafaintsmilethatnearlyexasperatedmebeyondcontrol.

But, swallowing down all fiercer answers, I merely demanded,—‘What

businessisitofyours?’

‘Why,none,’ repliedhewithprovokingquietness; ‘only,’—andheraisedhiseyes tomy face, and spokewith unusual solemnity,—‘only letme tell you,Markham,thatifyouhaveanydesignsinthatquarter,theywillcertainlyfail;anditgrievesmetoseeyoucherishingfalsehopes,andwastingyourstrengthinuselessefforts,for—’

‘Hypocrite!’ I exclaimed; and he held his breath, and looked very blank,turnedwhiteaboutthegills,andwentawaywithoutanotherword.

Ihadwoundedhimtothequick;andIwasgladofit.

CHAPTERX

Whenallweregone,I learnt that thevileslanderhadindeedbeencirculatedthroughout thecompany, in theverypresenceof thevictim. Rose,however,vowedshedidnot andwouldnotbelieve it, andmymothermade the samedeclaration, though not, I fear, with the same amount of real, unwaveringincredulity.Itseemedtodwellcontinuallyonhermind,andshekeptirritatingmefromtime to timebysuchexpressionsas—‘Dear,dear,whowouldhavethoughtit!—Well!Ialwaysthoughttherewassomethingoddabouther.—Youseewhatitisforwomentoaffecttobedifferenttootherpeople.’Andonceitwas,—‘I misdoubted that appearance of mystery from the very first—Ithoughttherewouldnogoodcomeofit;butthisisasad,sadbusiness,tobesure!’

‘Why,mother,yousaidyoudidn’tbelievethesetales,’saidFergus.

‘NomoreIdo,mydear;butthen,youknow,theremustbesomefoundation.’

‘Thefoundationisinthewickednessandfalsehoodoftheworld,’saidI,‘andinthefactthatMr.Lawrencehasbeenseentogothatwayonceortwiceofanevening—and the village gossips say he goes to pay his addresses to thestrange lady, and the scandal-mongers have greedily seized the rumour, tomakeitthebasisoftheirowninfernalstructure.’

‘Well, but, Gilbert, there must be something in her manner to countenancesuchreports.’

‘Didyouseeanythinginhermanner?’

‘No,certainly;butthen,youknow,Ialwayssaidtherewassomethingstrangeabouther.’

I believe itwason that very evening that I venturedon another invasionofWildfellHall.Fromthetimeofourparty,whichwasupwardsofaweekago,Ihadbeenmakingdailyeffortstomeetitsmistressinherwalks;andalwaysdisappointed (she must have managed it so on purpose), had nightly keptrevolving inmymind somepretext for another call. At length I concludedthat the separationcouldbeenduredno longer (by this time,youwill see, Iwas pretty far gone); and, taking from the book-case an old volume that Ithoughtshemightbe interested in, though, fromitsunsightlyandsomewhatdilapidatedcondition,Ihadnotyetventuredtoofferitforperusal,Ihastenedaway,—butnotwithoutsundrymisgivingsastohowshewouldreceiveme,orhowIcouldsummoncouragetopresentmyselfwithsoslightanexcuse.But,perhaps,Imightseeherinthefieldorthegarden,andthentherewouldbenogreatdifficulty: itwas the formalknockingat thedoor,with theprospectofbeinggravelyusheredinbyRachel,tothepresenceofasurprised,uncordialmistress,thatsogreatlydisturbedme.

Mywish,however,wasnotgratified.Mrs.Grahamherselfwasnottobeseen;but therewasArthur playingwithhis frolicsome little dog in thegarden. Ilookedoverthegateandcalledhimtome. Hewantedmetocomein;butItoldhimIcouldnotwithouthismother’sleave.

‘I’llgoandaskher,’saidthechild.

‘No,no,Arthur,youmustn’tdothat;butifshe’snotengaged,justaskhertocomehereaminute.TellherIwanttospeaktoher.’

He ran toperformmybidding, andquickly returnedwithhismother. Howlovelyshelookedwithherdarkringletsstreaminginthelightsummerbreeze,herfaircheekslightlyflushed,andhercountenanceradiantwithsmiles.DearArthur!whatdid Inotowe toyou for this andeveryotherhappymeeting?Through him I was at once delivered from all formality, and terror, andconstraint. In loveaffairs, there isnomediator like amerry, simple-heartedchild—ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulf ofcustom,tomelttheiceofcoldreserve,andoverthrowtheseparatingwallsofdreadformalityandpride.

‘Well,Mr.Markham,whatisit?’saidtheyoungmother,accostingmewithapleasantsmile.

‘Iwantyoutolookatthisbook,and,ifyouplease,totakeit,andperuseitatyourleisure.Imakenoapologyforcallingyououtonsuchalovelyevening,thoughitbeforamatterofnogreaterimportance.’

‘Tellhimtocomein,mamma,’saidArthur.

‘Wouldyouliketocomein?’askedthelady.

‘Yes;Ishouldliketoseeyourimprovementsinthegarden.’

‘Andhowyoursister’srootshaveprosperedinmycharge,’addedshe,assheopenedthegate.

Andwesaunteredthroughthegarden,andtalkedoftheflowers,thetrees,andthebook,andthenofotherthings.Theeveningwaskindandgenial,andsowasmycompanion.BydegreesIwaxedmorewarmandtenderthan,perhaps,Ihadeverbeenbefore;butstillIsaidnothingtangible,andsheattemptednorepulse,until,inpassingamossrose-treethatIhadbroughthersomeweekssince,inmysister’sname,shepluckedabeautifulhalf-openbudandbademegiveittoRose.

‘MayInotkeepitmyself?’Iasked.

‘No;buthereisanotherforyou.’

Insteadoftakingitquietly,Ilikewisetookthehandthatofferedit,andlookedintoherface. Sheletmeholditforamoment,andIsawaflashofecstaticbrilliance in her eye, a glow of glad excitement on her face—I thoughtmyhourofvictorywascome—butinstantlyapainfulrecollectionseemedtoflashuponher;acloudofanguishdarkenedherbrow,amarblepalenessblanchedher cheek and lip; there seemed a moment of inward conflict, and, with asuddeneffort,shewithdrewherhand,andretreatedasteportwoback.

‘Now,Mr.Markham,’saidshe,withakindofdesperatecalmness,‘Imusttellyou plainly that I cannot dowith this. I like your company, because I amalone here, and your conversation pleases me more than that of any otherperson;but ifyoucannotbecontent toregardmeasafriend—aplain,cold,motherly,orsisterlyfriend—Imustbegyoutoleavemenow,andletmealonehereafter:infact,wemustbestrangersforthefuture.’

‘Iwill,then—beyourfriend,orbrother,oranythingyouwish,ifyouwillonlyletmecontinuetoseeyou;buttellmewhyIcannotbeanythingmore?’

Therewasaperplexedandthoughtfulpause.

‘Isitinconsequenceofsomerashvow?’

‘Itissomethingofthekind,’sheanswered.‘SomedayImaytellyou,butatpresent you had better leave me; and never, Gilbert, put me to the painfulnecessityofrepeatingwhatIhavejustnowsaidtoyou,’sheearnestlyadded,givingmeher hand in serious kindness. How sweet, howmusicalmyownnamesoundedinhermouth!

‘Iwillnot,’Ireplied.‘Butyoupardonthisoffence?’

‘Onconditionthatyouneverrepeatit.’

‘AndmayIcometoseeyounowandthen?’

‘Perhaps—occasionally;providedyouneverabusetheprivilege.’

‘Imakenoemptypromises,butyoushallsee.’

‘Themomentyoudoourintimacyisatanend,that’sall.’

‘Andwill you always callmeGilbert? It soundsmore sisterly, and it willservetoremindmeofourcontract.’

She smiled, and oncemore bidme go; and at length I judged it prudent toobey,andshere-enteredthehouseandIwentdownthehill.ButasIwentthetramp of horses’ hoofs fell on my ear, and broke the stillness of the dewyevening;and,lookingtowardsthelane,Isawasolitaryequestriancomingup.Incliningtoduskasitwas,Iknewhimataglance:itwasMr.Lawrenceonhisgrey pony. I flew across the field, leaped the stone fence, and thenwalkeddownthelanetomeethim.Onseeingme,hesuddenlydrewinhislittlesteed,andseemedinclinedtoturnback,butonsecondthoughtapparentlyjudgeditbettertocontinuehiscourseasbefore.Heaccostedmewithaslightbow,and,edgingclose to thewall, endeavoured topasson;but Iwasnot sominded.Seizing his horse by the bridle, I exclaimed,—‘Now, Lawrence, Iwill havethismysteryexplained!Tellmewhereyouaregoing,andwhatyoumeantodo—atonce,anddistinctly!’

‘Willyoutakeyourhandoffthebridle?’saidhe,quietly—‘you’rehurtingmypony’smouth.’

‘Youandyourponybe—’

‘Whatmakesyousocoarseandbrutal,Markham?I’mquiteashamedofyou.’

‘Youanswermyquestions—beforeyouleavethisspotIwillknowwhatyoumeanbythisperfidiousduplicity!’

‘I shall answer no questions till you let go the bridle,—if you stand tillmorning.’

‘Nowthen,’saidI,unclosingmyhand,butstillstandingbeforehim.

‘Askmesomeothertime,whenyoucanspeaklikeagentleman,’returnedhe,andhemadeaneffort topassmeagain;but I quickly re-captured thepony,scarcelessastonishedthanitsmasteratsuchuncivilusage.

‘Really,Mr.Markham,thisistoomuch!’saidthelatter.‘CanInotgotoseemy tenantonmattersofbusiness,withoutbeingassaulted in thismannerby—?’

‘This is no time for business, sir!—I’ll tell you, now, what I think of your

conduct.’

‘You’dbetterdeferyouropiniontoamoreconvenientseason,’interruptedheinalowtone—‘here’sthevicar.’And,intruth,thevicarwasjustbehindme,plodding homeward from some remote corner of his parish. I immediatelyreleased the squire; and he went on his way, saluting Mr. Millward as hepassed.

‘What! quarrelling, Markham?’ cried the latter, addressing himself to me,—‘andaboutthatyoungwidow,Idoubt?’headded,reproachfullyshakinghishead.‘Butletmetellyou,youngman’(hereheputhisfaceintominewithanimportant, confidential air), ‘she’s not worth it!’ and he confirmed theassertionbyasolemnnod.

‘MR. MILLWARD,’ I exclaimed, in a tone of wrathful menace that made thereverend gentleman look round—aghast—astounded at such unwontedinsolence,andstaremeintheface,withalookthatplainlysaid,‘What,thistome!’ButIwastooindignanttoapologise,ortospeakanotherwordtohim:Iturned away, and hastened homewards, descending with rapid strides thesteep,roughlane,andleavinghimtofollowashepleased.

CHAPTERXI

Youmust supposeabout threeweekspassedover. Mrs.Grahamand Iwerenowestablishedfriends—orbrotherandsister,asweratherchosetoconsiderourselves. She called me Gilbert, by my express desire, and I called herHelen,forIhadseenthatnamewritteninherbooks. Iseldomattemptedtoseeherabovetwiceaweek;andstillImadeourmeetingsappeartheresultofaccidentasoftenasIcould—forIfounditnecessarytobeextremelycareful—and,altogether,Ibehavedwithsuchexceedingproprietythatsheneverhadoccasion to reproveme once. Yet I could not but perceive that shewas attimesunhappyanddissatisfiedwithherselforherposition,andtrulyImyselfwas not quite contented with the latter: this assumption of brotherlynonchalance was very hard to sustain, and I often felt myself a mostconfounded hypocritewith it all; I saw too, or rather I felt, that, in spite ofherself,‘Iwasnotindifferenttoher,’asthenovelheroesmodestlyexpressit,andwhile I thankfully enjoyedmy present good fortune, I could not fail towish and hope for something better in future; but, of course, I kept suchdreamsentirelytomyself.

‘Where are you going, Gilbert?’ said Rose, one evening, shortly after tea,whenIhadbeenbusywiththefarmallday.

‘Totakeawalk,’wasthereply.

‘Doyoualwaysbrushyourhatsocarefully,anddoyourhairsonicely,andputonsuchsmartnewgloveswhenyoutakeawalk?’

‘Notalways.’

‘You’regoingtoWildfellHall,aren’tyou?’

‘Whatmakesyouthinkso?’

‘Becauseyoulookasifyouwere—butIwishyouwouldn’tgosooften.’

‘Nonsense,child!Idon’tgoonceinsixweeks—whatdoyoumean?’

‘Well,butifIwereyou,Iwouldn’thavesomuchtodowithMrs.Graham.’

‘Why,Rose,areyou,too,givingintotheprevailingopinion?’

‘No,’ returned she, hesitatingly—‘but I’ve heard so much about her lately,bothattheWilsons’andthevicarage;—andbesides,mammasays,ifshewerea proper person she would not be living there by herself—and don’t yourememberlastwinter,Gilbert,allthataboutthefalsenametothepicture;andhow she explained it—saying she had friends or acquaintances fromwhomshewishedherpresentresidence tobeconcealed,and thatshewasafraidoftheirtracingherout;—andthen,howsuddenlyshestartedupandlefttheroomwhen that person came—whom she took good care not to let us catch aglimpse of, and who Arthur, with such an air of mystery, told us was hismamma’sfriend?’

‘Yes,Rose,Irememberitall;andIcanforgiveyouruncharitableconclusions;for, perhaps, if I did not know her myself, I should put all these thingstogether,andbelievethesameasyoudo;butthankGod,Idoknowher;andIshouldbeunworthy thenameofaman, if Icouldbelieveanything thatwassaidagainsther,unlessIhearditfromherownlips.—Ishouldassoonbelievesuchthingsofyou,Rose.’

‘Oh,Gilbert!’

‘Well, do you think I could believe anything of the kind,—whatever theWilsonsandMillwardsdaredtowhisper?’

‘Ishouldhopenotindeed!’

‘Andwhynot?—BecauseIknowyou—Well,andIknowherjustaswell.’

‘Oh,no!youknownothingofherformerlife;andlastyear,atthistime,youdidnotknowthatsuchapersonexisted.’

‘Nomatter.Thereissuchathingaslookingthroughaperson’seyesintothe

heart, and learningmore of the height, and breadth, and depth of another’ssoulinonehourthanitmighttakeyoualifetimetodiscover,ifheorshewerenotdisposedtorevealit,orifyouhadnotthesensetounderstandit.’

‘Thenyouaregoingtoseeherthisevening?’

‘TobesureIam!’

‘Butwhatwouldmammasay,Gilbert!’

‘Mammaneedn’tknow.’

‘Butshemustknowsometime,ifyougoon.’

‘Go on!—there’s no going on in the matter. Mrs. Graham and I are twofriends—andwillbe;andnomanbreathingshallhinderit,—orhasarighttointerferebetweenus.’

‘But ifyouknewhow they talkyouwouldbemorecareful, forher sakeaswellasforyourown.JaneWilsonthinksyourvisitstotheoldhallbutanotherproofofherdepravity—’

‘ConfoundJaneWilson!’

‘AndElizaMillwardisquitegrievedaboutyou.’

‘Ihopesheis.’

‘ButIwouldn’t,ifIwereyou.’

‘Wouldn’twhat?—HowdotheyknowthatIgothere?’

‘There’snothinghidfromthem:theyspyouteverything.’

‘Oh, I never thought of this!—And so they dare to turnmy friendship intofoodforfurtherscandalagainsther!—Thatprovesthefalsehoodoftheirotherlies, at all events, if any proof were wanting.—Mind you contradict them,Rose,wheneveryoucan.’

‘Buttheydon’tspeakopenlytomeaboutsuchthings:itisonlybyhintsandinnuendoes,andbywhatIhearotherssay,thatIknewwhattheythink.’

‘Well, then,Iwon’tgoto-day,asit’sgettinglatish. Butoh,deucetaketheircursed,envenomedtongues!’Imuttered,inthebitternessofmysoul.

And just at thatmoment thevicar entered the room:wehadbeen toomuchabsorbed in our conversation to observe his knock. After his customarycheerfulandfatherlygreetingofRose,whowasratherafavouritewiththeoldgentleman,heturnedsomewhatsternlytome:—

‘Well, sir!’ said he, ‘you’re quite a stranger. It is—let—me—see,’ he

continued, slowly, as he deposited his ponderous bulk in the arm-chair thatRose officiously brought towards him; ‘it is just—six-weeks—by myreckoning,sinceyoudarkened—my—door!’Hespokeitwithemphasis,andstruckhisstickonthefloor.

‘Isit,sir?’saidI.

‘Ay!Itisso!’Headdedanaffirmatorynod,andcontinuedtogazeuponmewithakindofiratesolemnity,holdinghissubstantialstickbetweenhisknees,withhishandsclaspeduponitshead.

‘Ihavebeenbusy,’Isaid,foranapologywasevidentlydemanded.

‘Busy!’repeatedhe,derisively.

‘Yes, you know I’ve been getting in my hay; and now the harvest isbeginning.’

‘Humph!’

Just thenmymother came in, and created a diversion inmy favour by herloquaciousandanimatedwelcomeofthereverendguest.Sheregretteddeeplythathehadnotcomealittleearlier,intimefortea,butofferedtohavesomeimmediatelyprepared,ifhewoulddoherthefavourtopartakeofit.

‘Not any for me, I thank you,’ replied he; ‘I shall be at home in a fewminutes.’

‘Oh,butdostayandtakealittle!itwillbereadyinfiveminutes.’

Butherejectedtheofferwithamajesticwaveofthehand.

‘I’lltellyouwhatI’lltake,Mrs.Markham,’saidhe:‘I’lltakeaglassofyourexcellentale.’

‘Withpleasure!’criedmymother,proceedingwithalacritytopullthebellandorderthefavouredbeverage.

‘Ithought,’continuedhe,‘I’djustlookinuponyouasIpassed,andtasteyourhome-brewedale.I’vebeentocallonMrs.Graham.’

‘Haveyou,indeed?’

Henoddedgravely,andaddedwithawfulemphasis—‘Ithoughtitincumbentuponmetodoso.’

‘Really!’ejaculatedmymother.

‘Whyso,Mr.Millward?’askedI.

Helookedatmewithsomeseverity,andturningagaintomymother,repeated,

—‘Ithought it incumbentuponme!’andstruckhisstickon theflooragain.Mymothersatopposite,anawe-struckbutadmiringauditor.

‘“Mrs.Graham,”saidI,’hecontinued,shakinghisheadashespoke,‘“theseare terrible reports!” “What, sir?” says she, affecting to be ignorant ofmymeaning. “It is my—duty—as—your pastor,” said I, “to tell you botheverything that I myself see reprehensible in your conduct, and all I havereasontosuspect,andwhatotherstellmeconcerningyou.”—SoItoldher!’

‘Youdid,sir?’criedI,startingfrommyseatandstrikingmyfistonthetable.Hemerelyglancedtowardsme,andcontinued—addressinghishostess:—

‘Itwasapainfulduty,Mrs.Markham—butItoldher!’

‘Andhowdidshetakeit?’askedmymother.

‘Hardened,Ifear—hardened!’hereplied,withadespondentshakeofthehead;‘and,atthesametime,therewasastrongdisplayofunchastened,misdirectedpassions.Sheturnedwhiteintheface,anddrewherbreaththroughherteethinasavagesortofway;—butsheofferednoextenuationordefence;andwithakindofshamelesscalmness—shockingindeedtowitnessinonesoyoung—as good as told me that my remonstrance was unavailing, and my pastoraladvice quite thrown away upon her—nay, that my very presence wasdispleasingwhileIspokesuchthings.AndIwithdrewatlength,tooplainlyseeing that nothing could be done—and sadly grieved to find her case sohopeless. But I am fully determined,Mrs.Markham, that my daughters—shall—not—consortwithher. Doyouadoptthesameresolutionwithregardtoyours!—As foryour sons—as foryou,youngman,’hecontinued, sternlyturningtome—

‘AsforME,sir,’Ibegan,butcheckedbysomeimpedimentinmyutterance,andfindingthatmywholeframetrembledwithfury,Isaidnomore,buttookthewiserpartof snatchingupmyhat andbolting from the room, slamming thedoorbehindme,withabangthatshookthehousetoitsfoundations,andmademymotherscream,andgaveamomentaryrelieftomyexcitedfeelings.

The next minute saw me hurrying with rapid strides in the direction ofWildfellHall—towhat intentorpurpose I could scarcely tell,but Imustbemoving somewhere, and no other goal would do—I must see her too, andspeaktoher—thatwascertain;butwhattosay,orhowtoact,Ihadnodefiniteidea.Suchstormythoughts—somanydifferentresolutionscrowdedinuponme,thatmymindwaslittlebetterthanachaosofconflictingpassions.

CHAPTERXII

Inlittlemorethantwentyminutesthejourneywasaccomplished.Ipausedatthe gate to wipe my streaming forehead, and recover my breath and somedegreeofcomposure.Alreadytherapidwalkinghadsomewhatmitigatedmyexcitement; and with a firm and steady tread I paced the garden-walk. Inpassingtheinhabitedwingof thebuilding,IcaughtasightofMrs.Graham,throughtheopenwindow,slowlypacingupanddownherlonelyroom.

Sheseemedagitatedandevendismayedatmyarrival,asifshethoughtItoowas coming to accuse her. I had enteredher presence intending to condolewithheruponthewickednessoftheworld,andhelphertoabusethevicarandhisvileinformants,butnowIfeltpositivelyashamedtomentionthesubject,anddeterminednottorefertoit,unlesssheledtheway.

‘Iamcomeatanunseasonablehour,’saidI,assumingacheerfulnessIdidnotfeel,inordertoreassureher;‘butIwon’tstaymanyminutes.’

She smiled upon me, faintly it is true, but most kindly—I had almost saidthankfully,asherapprehensionswereremoved.

‘Howdismalyouare,Helen!Whyhaveyounofire?’Isaid,lookingroundonthegloomyapartment.

‘Itissummeryet,’shereplied.

‘But we always have a fire in the evenings, if we can bear it; and youespeciallyrequireoneinthiscoldhouseanddrearyroom.’

‘Youshouldhavecomealittlesooner,andIwouldhavehadonelightedforyou:but it isnotworthwhilenow—youwon’t staymanyminutes,yousay,andArthurisgonetobed.’

‘ButIhaveafancyforafire,nevertheless.Willyouorderone,ifIring?’

‘Why,Gilbert, you don’t look cold!’ said she, smilingly regardingmy face,whichnodoubtseemedwarmenough.

‘No,’repliedI,‘butIwanttoseeyoucomfortablebeforeIgo.’

‘Mecomfortable!’repeatedshe,withabitterlaugh,asifthereweresomethingamusinglyabsurdintheidea.‘Itsuitsmebetterasitis,’sheadded,inatoneofmournfulresignation.

Butdeterminedtohavemyownway,Ipulledthebell.

‘Therenow,Helen!’Isaid,astheapproachingstepsofRachelwereheardinanswertothesummons.Therewasnothingforitbuttoturnroundanddesirethemaidtolightthefire.

I owe Rachel a grudge to this day for the look she cast upon me ere shedeparted on hermission, the sour, suspicious, inquisitorial look that plainlydemanded, ‘What are you here for, Iwonder?’ Hermistress did not fail tonoticeit,andashadeofuneasinessdarkenedherbrow.

‘Youmustnotstaylong,Gilbert,’saidshe,whenthedoorwascloseduponus.

‘I’mnotgoingto,’saidI,somewhattestily,thoughwithoutagrainofangerinmy heart against any one but the meddling old woman. ‘But, Helen, I’vesomethingtosaytoyoubeforeIgo.’

‘Whatisit?’

‘No,notnow—Idon’tknowyetpreciselywhatitis,orhowtosayit,’repliedI,withmoretruththanwisdom;andthen,fearinglestsheshouldturnmeoutofthehouse,Ibegantalkingaboutindifferentmatters inordertogaintime.Meanwhile Rachel came in to kindle the fire, which was soon effected bythrusting a red-hot poker between the bars of the grate,where the fuelwasalready disposed for ignition. She honoured me with another of her hard,inhospitable looks in departing, but, littlemoved thereby, Iwent on talking;and setting a chair forMrs.Grahamon one side of the hearth, and one formyselfontheother,Iventuredtositdown,thoughhalfsuspectingshewouldratherseemego.

In a little while we both relapsed into silence, and continued for severalminutes gazing abstractedly into the fire—she intent upon her own sadthoughts,andIreflectinghowdelightfulitwouldbetobeseatedthusbesideherwithnootherpresencetorestrainourintercourse—noteventhatofArthur,ourmutual friend,withoutwhomwehadnevermetbefore—ifonly I couldventuretospeakmymind,anddisburdenmyfullheartofthefeelingsthathadsolongoppressedit,andwhichitnowstruggledtoretain,withaneffortthatitseemedimpossibletocontinuemuchlonger,—andrevolvingtheprosandconsforopeningmyhearttoherthereandthen,andimploringareturnofaffection,the permission to regard her thenceforth as my own, and the right and thepower to defend her from the calumnies ofmalicious tongues. On the onehand, I felt a new-born confidence in my powers of persuasion—a strongconvictionthatmyownfervourofspiritwouldgrantmeeloquence—thatmyverydetermination—theabsolutenecessityforsucceeding,thatIfeltmustwinmewhatIsought;while,ontheother,IfearedtolosethegroundIhadalreadygainedwith somuch toil and skill, and destroy all future hope by one rasheffort,whentimeandpatiencemighthavewonsuccess.Itwaslikesettingmylifeuponthecastofadie;andyetIwasreadytoresolveupontheattempt.Atany rate, Iwould entreat the explanation she had half promised to givemebefore; I would demand the reason of this hateful barrier, this mysteriousimpedimenttomyhappiness,and,asItrusted,toherown.

But while I considered in whatmanner I could best framemy request, mycompanion, wakened from her reverie with a scarcely audible sigh, andlooking towards thewindow,where the blood-red harvestmoon, just risingover one of the grim, fantastic evergreens, was shining in upon us, said,—‘Gilbert,itisgettinglate.’

‘Isee,’saidI.‘Youwantmetogo,Isuppose?’

‘I thinkyouought. Ifmykindneighboursget toknowof this visit—asnodoubt theywill—theywill not turn itmuch tomy advantage.’ Itwaswithwhatthevicarwoulddoubtlesshavecalledasavagesortofsmilethatshesaidthis.

‘Letthemturnitastheywill,’saidI.‘Whataretheirthoughtstoyouorme,solongaswearesatisfiedwithourselves—andeachother. Let themgoto thedeucewiththeirvileconstructionsandtheirlyinginventions!’

Thisoutburstbroughtaflushofcolourtoherface.

‘Youhaveheard,then,whattheysayofme?’

‘Iheardsomedetestablefalsehoods;butnonebutfoolswouldcreditthemforamoment,Helen,sodon’tletthemtroubleyou.’

‘IdidnotthinkMr.Millwardafool,andhebelievesitall;buthoweverlittleyou may value the opinions of those about you—however little you mayesteemthemasindividuals,itisnotpleasanttobelookeduponasaliarandahypocrite,tobethoughttopractisewhatyouabhor,andtoencouragethevicesyouwoulddiscountenance, to findyourgood intentions frustrated, andyourhandscrippledbyyour supposedunworthiness,and tobringdisgraceon theprinciplesyouprofess.’

‘True; and if I, bymy thoughtlessness and selfish disregard to appearances,haveatallassistedtoexposeyoutotheseevils,letmeentreatyounotonlytopardonme,but toenableme tomake reparation; authoriseme toclearyournamefromevery imputation:giveme the right to identifyyourhonourwithmyown,andtodefendyourreputationasmorepreciousthanmylife!’

‘Are you hero enough to unite yourself to one whom you know to besuspectedanddespisedbyallaroundyou,andidentifyyourinterestsandyourhonourwithhers?Think!itisaseriousthing.’

‘I should be proud to do it, Helen!—most happy—delighted beyondexpression!—andifthatbealltheobstacletoourunion,itisdemolished,andyoumust—youshallbemine!’

Andstartingfrommyseatinafrenzyofardour,Iseizedherhandandwouldhavepressedittomylips,butsheassuddenlycaughtitaway,exclaimingin

thebitternessofintenseaffliction,—‘No,no,itisnotall!’

‘Whatisit,then?YoupromisedIshouldknowsometime,and—’

‘Youshallknowsometime—butnotnow—myheadachesterribly,’shesaid,pressingherhandtoherforehead,‘andImusthavesomerepose—andsurelyIhavehadmiseryenoughto-day!’sheadded,almostwildly.

‘Butitcouldnotharmyoutotellit,’Ipersisted:‘itwouldeaseyourmind;andIshouldthenknowhowtocomfortyou.’

Sheshookherheaddespondingly.‘Ifyouknewall,you,too,wouldblameme—perhapsevenmorethanIdeserve—thoughIhavecruellywrongedyou,’sheaddedinalowmurmur,asifshemusedaloud.

‘You,Helen?Impossible?’

‘Yes, not willingly; for I did not know the strength and depth of yourattachment.Ithought—atleastIendeavouredtothinkyourregardformewasascoldandfraternalasyouprofessedittobe.’

‘Orasyours?’

‘Or as mine—ought to have been—of such a light and selfish, superficialnature,that—’

‘There,indeed,youwrongedme.’

‘I know I did; and, sometimes, I suspected it then; but I thought, upon thewhole,therecouldbenogreatharminleavingyourfanciesandyourhopestodream themselves to nothing—or flutter away to some more fitting object,while your friendly sympathies remained with me; but if I had known thedepthofyourregard,thegenerous,disinterestedaffectionyouseemtofeel—’

‘Seem,Helen?’

‘Thatyoudofeel,then,Iwouldhaveacteddifferently.’

‘How?Youcouldnothavegivenmelessencouragement,ortreatedmewithgreater severity than you did! And if you think you have wrongedme bygivingmeyourfriendship,andoccasionallyadmittingmetotheenjoymentofyourcompanyandconversation,whenallhopesofcloserintimacywerevain—as indeed you always gave me to understand—if you think you havewrongedmebythis,youaremistaken;forsuchfavours,inthemselvesalone,arenotonlydelightful tomyheart,butpurifying, exalting, ennobling tomysoul; and I would rather have your friendship than the love of any otherwomanintheworld!’

Littlecomfortedby this, sheclaspedherhandsuponherknee, andglancing

upward,seemed,insilentanguish,toimploredivineassistance;then,turningtome,shecalmlysaid,—‘To-morrow,ifyoumeetmeonthemooraboutmid-day, Iwill tell youall you seek toknow; andperhapsyouwill then see thenecessity of discontinuing our intimacy—if, indeed, you do not willinglyresignmeasonenolongerworthyofregard.’

‘I can safely answer no to that: you cannot have such grave confessions tomake—youmustbetryingmyfaith,Helen.’

‘No,no,no,’sheearnestlyrepeated—‘Iwishitwereso!Thankheaven!’sheadded,‘Ihavenogreatcrimetoconfess;butIhavemorethanyouwillliketohear,or,perhaps,canreadilyexcuse,—andmorethanIcantellyounow;soletmeentreatyoutoleaveme!’

‘Iwill;butanswermethisonequestionfirst;—doyouloveme?’

‘Iwillnotanswerit!’

‘ThenIwillconcludeyoudo;andsogood-night.’

Sheturnedfrommetohidetheemotionshecouldnotquitecontrol;butItookherhandandferventlykissedit.

‘Gilbert,doleaveme!’shecried,inatoneofsuchthrillinganguishthatIfeltitwouldbecrueltodisobey.

But I gave one look back before I closed the door, and saw her leaningforward on the table, with her hands pressed against her eyes, sobbingconvulsively;yetIwithdrewinsilence.Ifeltthattoobtrudemyconsolationsonherthenwouldonlyservetoaggravatehersufferings.

To tell you all the questionings and conjectures—the fears, and hopes, andwild emotions that jostled and chased each other through my mind as Idescendedthehill,wouldalmostfillavolumeinitself.ButbeforeIwashalf-waydown,asentimentofstrongsympathyforher Ihad leftbehindmehaddisplaced all other feelings, and seemed imperatively to draw me back: Ibegan to think, ‘Why am I hurrying so fast in this direction? Can I findcomfortorconsolation—peace,certainty,contentment,all—oranythingthatIwantathome?andcanIleaveallperturbation,sorrow,andanxietybehindmethere?’

And I turned round to look at the old Hall. There was little besides thechimneysvisibleabovemycontractedhorizon.Iwalkedbacktogetabetterview of it. When it rose in sight, I stood still amoment to look, and thencontinuedmovingtowardsthegloomyobjectofattraction.Somethingcalledmenearer—nearerstill—andwhynot,pray?MightInotfindmorebenefitinthe contemplation of that venerable pilewith the fullmoon in the cloudless

heavenshiningsocalmlyaboveit—withthatwarmyellowlustrepeculiar toanAugustnight—andthemistressofmysoulwithin,thaninreturningtomyhome, where all comparatively was light, and life, and cheerfulness, andthereforeinimicaltomeinmypresentframeofmind,—andthemoresothatits inmatesallweremoreorlessimbuedwiththatdetestablebelief, theverythoughtofwhichmademybloodboilinmyveins—andhowcouldIenduretohear it openlydeclared,or cautiously insinuated—whichwasworse?—Ihadhad trouble enough already, with some babbling fiend that would keepwhisperinginmyear,‘Itmaybetrue,’tillIhadshoutedaloud,‘Itisfalse!Idefyyoutomakemesupposeit!’

Icouldseetheredfirelightdimlygleamingfromherparlourwindow.Iwentuptothegardenwall,andstoodleaningoverit,withmyeyesfixeduponthelattice,wonderingwhatshewasdoing,thinking,orsufferingnow,andwishingIcouldspeaktoherbutoneword,orevencatchoneglimpseofher,beforeIwent.

Ihadnotthuslooked,andwished,andwonderedlong,beforeIvaultedoverthe barrier, unable to resist the temptation of taking one glance through thewindow,justtoseeifsheweremorecomposedthanwhenweparted;—andifI foundher still indeepdistress,perhaps Imightventureattemptawordofcomfort—toutteroneofthemanythingsIshouldhavesaidbefore,insteadofaggravatinghersufferingsbymystupidimpetuosity.Ilooked.Herchairwasvacant:sowastheroom.Butatthatmomentsomeoneopenedtheouterdoor,and a voice—her voice—said,—‘Come out—I want to see the moon, andbreathetheeveningair:theywilldomegood—ifanythingwill.’

Here, then, were she and Rachel coming to take a walk in the garden. Iwishedmyselfsafebackoverthewall.Istood,however,intheshadowofthetallholly-bush,which,standingbetweenthewindowandtheporch,atpresentscreenedmefromobservation,butdidnotpreventmefromseeingtwofigurescome forth into the moonlight: Mrs. Graham followed by another—notRachel,butayoungman,slenderandrathertall.Oheavens,howmytemplesthrobbed! Intense anxiety darkened my sight; but I thought—yes, and thevoiceconfirmedit—itwasMr.Lawrence!

‘You should not let itworry you somuch,Helen,’ said he; ‘Iwill bemorecautiousinfuture;andintime—’

I did not hear the rest of the sentence; for he walked close beside her andspokesogentlythatIcouldnotcatchthewords.Myheartwassplittingwithhatred;butIlistenedintentlyforherreply.Ihearditplainlyenough.

‘ButImustleavethisplace,Frederick,’shesaid—‘Inevercanbehappyhere,—nor anywhere else, indeed,’ she added, with a mirthless laugh,—‘but I

cannotresthere.’

‘Butwherecouldyoufindabetterplace?’ repliedhe, ‘sosecluded—sonearme,ifyouthinkanythingofthat.’

‘Yes,’ interruptedshe, ‘it isall Icouldwish, if theycouldonlyhave leftmealone.’

‘Butwhereveryougo,Helen,therewillbethesamesourcesofannoyance.Icannotconsenttoloseyou:Imustgowithyou,orcometoyou;andtherearemeddlingfoolselsewhere,aswellashere.’

Whilethusconversingtheyhadsaunteredslowlypastme,downthewalk,andIheardnomoreoftheirdiscourse;butIsawhimputhisarmroundherwaist,while she lovingly rested her hand on his shoulder;—and then, a tremulousdarknessobscuredmysight,myheartsickenedandmyheadburnedlikefire:Ihalf rushed, half staggered from the spot,wherehorror hadkeptme rooted,andleapedortumbledoverthewall—Ihardlyknowwhich—butIknowthat,afterwards, like a passionate child, I dashed myself on the ground and laythere in a paroxysmof anger and despair—how long, I cannot undertake tosay; but it must have been a considerable time; for when, having partiallyrelievedmyselfbyatormentoftears,andlookedupatthemoon,shiningsocalmly and carelessly on, as little influenced bymymisery as I was by itspeacefulradiance,andearnestlyprayedfordeathorforgetfulness,Ihadrisenand journeyedhomewards—little regarding theway,butcarried instinctivelybymy feet to the door, I found it bolted againstme, and every one in bedexcept my mother, who hastened to answer my impatient knocking, andreceivedmewithashowerofquestionsandrebukes.

‘Oh,Gilbert!howcouldyoudoso?Wherehaveyoubeen?Docomeinandtakeyoursupper.I’vegotitallready,thoughyoudon’tdeserveit,forkeepingmeinsuchafright,afterthestrangemanneryouleftthehousethisevening.Mr.Millwardwas quite— Bless the boy! how ill he looks. Oh, gracious!whatisthematter?’

‘Nothing,nothing—givemeacandle.’

‘Butwon’tyoutakesomesupper?’

‘No;Iwanttogotobed,’saidI,takingacandleandlightingitattheonesheheldinherhand.

‘Oh,Gilbert, howyou tremble!’ exclaimedmyanxiousparent. ‘Howwhiteyoulook!Dotellmewhatitis?Hasanythinghappened?’

‘It’snothing,’criedI,readytostampwithvexationbecausethecandlewouldnot light. Then, suppressingmy irritation, I added, ‘I’ve beenwalking too

fast, that’s all. Good-night,’ and marched off to bed, regardless of the‘Walkingtoofast!wherehaveyoubeen?’thatwascalledaftermefrombelow.

Mymother followedme to theverydoorofmyroomwithherquestioningsandadviceconcerningmyhealthandmyconduct;butIimploredhertoletmealone tillmorning; and shewithdrew, and at length I had the satisfaction tohearhercloseherowndoor.Therewasnosleepforme,however,thatnightas I thought; and instead of attempting to solicit it, I employed myself inrapidly pacing the chamber, having first removedmyboots, lestmymothershould hearme. But the boards creaked, and shewaswatchful. I had notwalkedaboveaquarterofanhourbeforeshewasatthedooragain.

‘Gilbert,whyareyounotinbed—yousaidyouwantedtogo?’

‘Confoundit!I’mgoing,’saidI.

‘Butwhyareyousolongaboutit?Youmusthavesomethingonyourmind—’

‘Forheaven’ssake,letmealone,andgettobedyourself.’

‘CanitbethatMrs.Grahamthatdistressesyouso?’

‘No,no,Itellyou—it’snothing.’

‘Iwishtogoodnessitmayn’t,’murmuredshe,withasigh,asshereturnedtoherownapartment,whileIthrewmyselfonthebed,feelingmostundutifullydisaffected towards her for having deprived me of what seemed the onlyshadowofaconsolationthatremained,andchainedmetothatwretchedcouchofthorns.

NeverdidIenduresolong,somiserableanightasthat. Andyetitwasnotwhollysleepless.Towardsmorningmydistractingthoughtsbegantoloseallpretensions to coherency, and shape themselves into confused and feverishdreams,and,atlength,therefollowedanintervalofunconsciousslumber.Butthenthedawnofbitterrecollectionthatsucceeded—thewakingtofindlifeablank,andworsethanablank,teemingwithtormentandmisery—notamerebarren wilderness, but full of thorns and briers—to find myself deceived,duped,hopeless,myaffectionstrampledupon,myangelnotanangel,andmyfriendafiendincarnate—itwasworsethanifIhadnotsleptatall.

Itwas a dull, gloomymorning; theweather had changed likemyprospects,andtherainwaspatteringagainstthewindow.Irose,nevertheless,andwentout;nottolookafterthefarm,thoughthatwouldserveasmyexcuse,buttocool my brain, and regain, if possible, a sufficient degree of composure tomeet thefamilyat themorningmealwithoutexcitinginconvenientremarks.If Igotawetting, that, inconjunctionwithapretendedover-exertionbefore

breakfast,mightexcusemysuddenlossofappetite;andifacoldensued,thesevererthebetter—itwouldhelptoaccountforthesullenmoodsandmopingmelancholylikelytocloudmybrowforlongenough.

CHAPTERXIII

‘MydearGilbert,Iwishyouwouldtrytobealittlemoreamiable,’saidmymother one morning after some display of unjustifiable ill-humour on mypart.‘Yousaythereisnothingthematterwithyou,andnothinghashappenedtogrieveyou,andyetIneversawanyonesoalteredasyouwithintheselastfew days. You haven’t a good word for anybody—friends and strangers,equalsandinferiors—it’sallthesame.Idowishyou’dtrytocheckit.’

‘Checkwhat?’

‘Why,your strange temper. Youdon’t knowhow it spoils you. I’m sure afiner disposition than yours by nature could not be, if you’d let it have fairplay:soyou’venoexcusethatway.’

Whileshethusremonstrated,Itookupabook,andlayingitopenonthetablebeforeme,pretended tobedeeplyabsorbed in itsperusal, for Iwasequallyunabletojustifymyselfandunwillingtoacknowledgemyerrors;andIwishedto have nothing to say on the matter. But my excellent parent went onlecturing,andthencametocoaxing,andbegantostrokemyhair;andIwasgettingtofeelquiteagoodboy,butmymischievousbrother,whowasidlingabouttheroom,revivedmycorruptionbysuddenlycallingout,—‘Don’ttouchhim,mother!he’llbite!He’saverytigerinhumanform.I’vegivenhimupfor my part—fairly disowned him—cast him off, root and branch. It’s asmuchasmylifeisworthtocomewithinsixyardsofhim.Theotherdayhenearly fractured my skull for singing a pretty, inoffensive love-song, onpurposetoamusehim.’

‘Oh,Gilbert!howcouldyou?’exclaimedmymother.

‘Itoldyoutoholdyournoisefirst,youknow,Fergus,’saidI.

‘Yes, but when I assured you it was no trouble and went on with the nextverse,thinkingyoumightlikeitbetter,youclutchedmebytheshoulderanddashedmeaway,rightagainstthewallthere,withsuchforcethatIthoughtIhadbittenmytongueintwo,andexpectedtoseetheplaceplasteredwithmybrains;andwhenIputmyhandtomyhead,andfoundmyskullnotbroken,Ithoughtitwasamiracle,andnomistake.But,poorfellow!’addedhe,withasentimental sigh—‘his heart’s broken—that’s the truth of it—and his head’s

—’

‘WillyoubesilentNOW?’criedI,startingup,andeyeingthefellowsofiercelythatmymother, thinking Imeant to inflict somegrievousbodily injury, laidher hand on my arm, and besought me to let him alone, and he walkedleisurely out, with his hands in his pockets, singing provokingly—‘Shall I,becauseawoman’sfair,’&c.

‘I’mnotgoingtodefilemyfingerswithhim,’saidI,inanswertothematernalintercession.‘Iwouldn’ttouchhimwiththetongs.’

I now recollected that I had business with Robert Wilson, concerning thepurchaseofacertainfieldadjoiningmyfarm—abusinessIhadbeenputtingofffromdaytoday;forIhadnointerestinanythingnow;andbesides,Iwasmisanthropically inclined, and, moreover, had a particular objection tomeetingJaneWilsonorhermother;forthoughIhadtoogoodreason,now,tocredittheirreportsconcerningMrs.Graham,Ididnotlikethemabitthebetterfor it—or ElizaMillward either—and the thought ofmeeting themwas themorerepugnanttomethatIcouldnot,now,defytheirseemingcalumniesandtriumphinmyownconvictionsasbefore.Butto-dayIdeterminedtomakeanefforttoreturntomyduty.ThoughIfoundnopleasureinit,itwouldbelessirksome than idleness—at all events it would be more profitable. If lifepromisednoenjoymentwithinmyvocation,atleastitofferednoallurementsoutofit;andhenceforthIwouldputmyshouldertothewheelandtoilaway,likeanypoordrudgeofacart-horsethatwasfairlybrokenintoitslabour,andplod through life, notwholly useless if not agreeable, and uncomplaining ifnotcontentedwithmylot.

Thus resolving, with a kind of sullen resignation, if such a term may beallowed, I wendedmyway to Ryecote Farm, scarcely expecting to find itsowner within at this time of day, but hoping to learn in what part of thepremiseshewasmostlikelytobefound.

Absenthewas,butexpectedhomeinafewminutes;andIwasdesiredtostepintotheparlourandwait.Mrs.Wilsonwasbusyinthekitchen,buttheroomwasnotempty;andIscarcelycheckedaninvoluntaryrecoilasIenteredit;fortheresatMissWilsonchatteringwithElizaMillward.However,Ideterminedtobecoolandcivil. Elizaseemed tohavemade thesameresolutiononherpart. We had notmet since the evening of the tea-party; but therewas novisibleemotioneitherofpleasureorpain,noattemptatpathos,nodisplayofinjuredpride:shewascoolintemper,civilindemeanour.TherewasevenaneaseandcheerfulnessaboutherairandmannerthatImadenopretensionto;buttherewasadepthofmaliceinhertooexpressiveeyethatplainlytoldmeIwasnot forgiven; for, thoughsheno longerhoped towinme toherself, shestillhatedherrival,andevidentlydelightedtowreakherspiteonme.Onthe

otherhand,MissWilsonwasasaffableandcourteousasheartcouldwish,andthoughIwasinnoveryconversablehumourmyself, thetwoladiesbetweenthemmanagedtokeepupaprettycontinuousfireofsmalltalk.ButElizatookadvantage of the first convenient pause to ask if I had lately seen Mrs.Graham, in a tone of merely casual inquiry, but with a sidelong glance—intended tobeplayfullymischievous—really,brimfuland runningoverwithmalice.

‘Not lately,’ I replied, in a careless tone, but sternly repelling her odiousglances with my eyes; for I was vexed to feel the colour mounting to myforehead,despitemystrenuouseffortstoappearunmoved.

‘What!areyoubeginningtotirealready?Ithoughtsonobleacreaturewouldhavepowertoattachyouforayearatleast!’

‘Iwouldrathernotspeakofhernow.’

‘Ah! then you are convinced, at last, of your mistake—you have at lengthdiscoveredthatyourdivinityisnotquitetheimmaculate—’

‘Idesiredyounottospeakofher,MissEliza.’

‘Oh, Ibegyourpardon! IperceiveCupid’sarrowshavebeen too sharp foryou: thewounds, beingmore than skin-deep, are not yet healed, and bleedafreshateverymentionofthelovedone’sname.’

‘Say, rather,’ interposedMissWilson, ‘thatMr.Markham feels that name isunworthytobementionedinthepresenceofright-mindedfemales.Iwonder,Eliza, you should think of referring to that unfortunate person—you mightknow themention of her would be anything but agreeable to any one herepresent.’

Howcouldthisbeborne?Iroseandwasabouttoclapmyhatuponmyheadandburstaway,inwrathfulindignationfromthehouse;butrecollecting—justintimetosavemydignity—thefollyofsuchaproceeding,andhowitwouldonlygivemyfairtormentorsamerrylaughatmyexpense,forthesakeofoneIacknowledged inmyownheart tobeunworthyof the slightest sacrifice—thoughtheghostofmyformerreverenceandlovesohungaboutmestill,thatIcouldnotbeartohearhernameaspersedbyothers—Imerelywalkedtothewindow,andhavingspentafewsecondsinvengiblybitingmylipsandsternlyrepressing the passionate heavings ofmy chest, I observed toMissWilson,that I could see nothing of her brother, and added that, as my time wasprecious, it would perhaps be better to call again to-morrow, at some timewhenIshouldbesuretofindhimathome.

‘Oh,no!’saidshe;‘ifyouwaitaminute,hewillbesuretocome;forhehasbusiness at L—’ (that was our market-town), ‘and will require a little

refreshmentbeforehegoes.’

I submitted accordingly,with thebest grace I could; and, happily, I hadnotlongtowait.Mr.Wilsonsoonarrived,and,indisposedforbusinessasIwasatthat moment, and little as I cared for the field or its owner, I forced myattentiontothematterinhand,withverycreditabledetermination,andquicklyconcludedthebargain—perhapsmoretothethriftyfarmer’ssatisfactionthanhe cared to acknowledge. Then, leaving him to the discussion of hissubstantial‘refreshment,’Igladlyquittedthehouse,andwenttolookaftermyreapers.

Leaving them busy at work on the side of the valley, I ascended the hill,intending to visit a corn-field in themore elevated regions, and seewhen itwould be ripe for the sickle. But I did not visit it that day; for, as Iapproached,Ibeheld,atnogreatdistance,Mrs.Grahamandhersoncomingdownintheoppositedirection.Theysawme;andArthuralreadywasrunningtomeetme;butIimmediatelyturnedbackandwalkedsteadilyhomeward;forIhadfullydeterminednevertoencounterhismotheragain;andregardlessoftheshrillvoiceinmyear,callinguponmeto‘waitamoment,’Ipursuedtheeven tenor ofmyway; and he soon relinquished the pursuit as hopeless, orwas called away by his mother. At all events, when I looked back, fiveminutesafter,notatraceofeitherwastobeseen.

This incident agitated and disturbed me most unaccountably—unless youwouldaccountforitbysayingthatCupid’sarrowsnotonlyhadbeentoosharpforme,buttheywerebarbedanddeeplyrooted,andIhadnotyetbeenabletowrench them from my heart. However that be, I was rendered doublymiserablefortheremainderoftheday.

CHAPTERXIV

Nextmorning,Ibethoughtme,I, too,hadbusinessatL—;soImountedmyhorse, and set forth on the expedition soon after breakfast. It was a dull,drizzlyday;butthatwasnomatter:itwasallthemoresuitabletomyframeofmind.Itwaslikelytobealonelyjourney;foritwasnomarket-day,andtheroadItraversedwaslittlefrequentedatanyothertime;butthatsuitedmeallthebettertoo.

As I trotted along, however, chewing the cud of—bitter fancies, I heardanotherhorseatnogreatdistancebehindme;butIneverconjecturedwhotheridermightbe,ortroubledmyheadabouthim,till,onslackeningmypacetoascendagentleacclivity,orrather,sufferingmyhorsetoslackenhispaceinto

alazywalk—for,raptinmyownreflections,Iwaslettingitjogonasleisurelyasitthoughtproper—Ilostground,andmyfellow-travellerovertookme.Heaccosted me by name, for it was no stranger—it was Mr. Lawrence!Instinctively the fingers of mywhip-hand tingled, and grasped their chargewith convulsive energy; but I restrained the impulse, and answering hissalutationwithanod,attemptedtopushon;buthepushedonbesideme,andbegan to talk about theweather and the crops. I gave the briefest possibleanswerstohisqueriesandobservations,andfellback.Hefellbacktoo,andasked if my horse was lame. I replied with a look, at which he placidlysmiled.

I was as much astonished as exasperated at this singular pertinacity andimperturbableassuranceonhispart. Ihad thought thecircumstancesofourlastmeetingwouldhaveleftsuchanimpressiononhismindastorenderhimcold and distant ever after: instead of that, he appeared not only to haveforgottenallformeroffences,buttobeimpenetrabletoallpresentincivilities.Formerly, the slightest hint, ormere fancied coldness in toneorglance, hadsufficedtorepulsehim:now,positiverudenesscouldnotdrivehimaway.Hadheheardofmydisappointment; andwashe come towitness the result, andtriumphinmydespair?Igraspedmywhipwithmoredeterminedenergythanbefore—butstill forbore to raise it,androdeon insilence,waitingforsomemoretangiblecauseofoffence,beforeIopenedthefloodgatesofmysoulandpouredoutthedammed-upfurythatwasfoamingandswellingwithin.

‘Markham,’ said he, in his usual quiet tone, ‘why do you quarrelwith yourfriends,becauseyouhavebeendisappointedinonequarter?Youhavefoundyourhopesdefeated;buthowamItoblameforit?Iwarnedyoubeforehand,youknow,butyouwouldnot—’

Hesaidnomore; for, impelledbysomefiendatmyelbow,Ihadseizedmywhipbythesmallend,and—swiftandsuddenasaflashoflightning—broughtthe other down upon his head. It was not without a feeling of savagesatisfactionthatIbeheldtheinstant,deadlypallorthatoverspreadhisface,andthefewreddropsthattrickleddownhisforehead,whilehereeledamomentinhissaddle,andthenfellbackwardtotheground.Thepony,surprisedtobesostrangely relievedof itsburden, startedandcapered, andkickeda little, andthenmadeuseofitsfreedomtogoandcropthegrassofthehedge-bank:whileitsmasterlayasstillandsilentasacorpse.HadIkilledhim?—anicyhandseemedtograspmyheartandcheckitspulsation,asIbentoverhim,gazingwithbreathless intensityupon theghastly,upturnedface. Butno;hemovedhiseyelidsandutteredaslightgroan.Ibreathedagain—hewasonlystunnedbythefall.Itservedhimright—itwouldteachhimbettermannersinfuture.ShouldIhelphimtohishorse?No.ForanyothercombinationofoffencesIwould;buthisweretoounpardonable.Hemightmountithimself,ifheliked

—inawhile:alreadyhewasbeginningtostirandlookabouthim—andthereitwasforhim,quietlybrowsingontheroad-side.

SowithamutteredexecrationIleftthefellowtohisfate,andclappingspurstomyownhorse,gallopedaway,excitedbyacombinationoffeelingsitwouldnotbeeasytoanalyse;andperhaps, ifIdidso, theresultwouldnotbeverycreditable tomydisposition;forIamnotsure thataspeciesofexultationinwhatIhaddonewasnotoneprincipalconcomitant.

Shortly, however, the effervescence began to abate, and not many minuteselapsedbeforeIhadturnedandgonebacktolookafterthefateofmyvictim.Itwasnogenerousimpulse—nokindrelentingsthatledmetothis—noreventhefearofwhatmightbetheconsequencestomyself,ifIfinishedmyassaultuponthesquirebyleavinghimthusneglected,andexposedtofurtherinjury;itwas, simply, the voice of conscience; and I took great credit to myself forattendingsopromptlytoitsdictates—andjudgingthemeritofthedeedbythesacrificeitcost,Iwasnotfarwrong.

Mr.Lawrenceandhisponyhadbothaltered theirpositions insomedegree.Theponyhadwanderedeightortenyardsfurtheraway;andhehadmanaged,somehow,toremovehimselffromthemiddleoftheroad:Ifoundhimseatedinarecumbentpositiononthebank,—lookingverywhiteandsicklystill,andholdinghiscambrichandkerchief (nowmorered thanwhite) tohishead. Itmusthavebeenapowerfulblow;buthalfthecredit—ortheblameofit(whichyou please) must be attributed to the whip, which was garnished with amassive horse’s head of plated metal. The grass, being sodden with rain,afforded the young gentleman a rather inhospitable couch; his clotheswereconsiderablybemired;andhishatwasrollinginthemudontheothersideofthe road. Buthis thoughts seemedchieflybentuponhispony,onwhichhewas wistfully gazing—half in helpless anxiety, and half in hopelessabandonmenttohisfate.

I dismounted, however, and having fastened my own animal to the nearesttree, first picked up his hat, intending to clap it on his head; but either heconsideredhisheadunfitforahat,orthehat,initspresentcondition,unfitforhis head; for shrinking away the one, he took the other frommy hand, andscornfullycastitaside.

‘It’sgoodenoughforyou,’Imuttered.

My next good officewas to catch his pony and bring it to him,whichwassoon accomplished; for the beast was quiet enough in the main, and onlywincedandflirtedatrifletillIgotholdofthebridle—butthen,Imustseehiminthesaddle.

‘Here,youfellow—scoundrel—dog—givemeyourhand,andI’llhelpyouto

mount.’

No;he turned fromme indisgust. I attempted to takehimby thearm. Heshrankawayasiftherehadbeencontaminationinmytouch.

‘What,youwon’t!Well!youmaysittheretilldoomsday,forwhatIcare.ButI suppose you don’t want to lose all the blood in your body—I’ll justcondescendtobindthatupforyou.’

‘Letmealone,ifyouplease.’

‘Humph;withallmyheart.Youmaygotothed—l,ifyouchoose—andsayIsentyou.’

ButbeforeIabandonedhimtohisfateIflunghispony’sbridleoverastakeinthehedge,andthrewhimmyhandkerchief,ashisownwasnowsaturatedwithblood.Hetookitandcastitbacktomeinabhorrenceandcontempt,withallthe strength he could muster. It wanted but this to fill the measure of hisoffences. With execrationsnot loudbutdeep I left him to liveordie ashecould,wellsatisfiedthatIhaddonemydutyinattemptingtosavehim—butforgetting how I had erred in bringing him into such a condition, and howinsultinglymyafter-serviceshadbeenoffered—andsullenlypreparedtomeettheconsequencesifheshouldchoosetosayIhadattemptedtomurderhim—whichI thoughtnotunlikely,as itseemedprobablehewasactuatedbysuchspitefulmotivesinsoperseveringlyrefusingmyassistance.

Havingremountedmyhorse,Ijustlookedbacktoseehowhewasgettingon,before I rodeaway. Hehad risen from theground, andgraspinghispony’smane,wasattemptingtoresumehisseatinthesaddle;butscarcelyhadheputhisfootinthestirrup,whenasicknessordizzinessseemedtooverpowerhim:heleantforwardamoment,withhisheaddroopedontheanimal’sback,andthenmade onemore effort, which proving ineffectual, he sank back on thebank, where I left him, reposing his head on the oozy turf, and to allappearance,ascalmlyrecliningasifhehadbeentakinghisrestonhissofaathome.

Ioughttohavehelpedhiminspiteofhimself—tohaveboundupthewoundhe was unable to staunch, and insisted upon getting him on his horse andseeinghimsafehome;but,besidesmybitterindignationagainsthimself,therewas the questionwhat to say to his servants—andwhat tomyown family.EitherIshouldhavetoacknowledgethedeed,whichwouldsetmedownasamadman,unlessIacknowledgedthemotivetoo—andthatseemedimpossible—orImustgetupalie,whichseemedequallyoutofthequestion—especiallyasMr.Lawrencewouldprobablyrevealthewholetruth,andtherebybringmeto tenfolddisgrace—unless Iwerevillainenough,presumingon theabsenceofwitnesses,topersistinmyownversionofthecase,andmakehimoutastill

greater scoundrel than he was. No; he had only received a cut above thetemple,andperhapsafewbruisesfromthefall,orthehoofsofhisownpony:thatcouldnotkillhimifhe lay therehalf theday;and, ifhecouldnothelphimself,surelysomeonewouldbecomingby:itwouldbeimpossiblethatawholedayshouldpassandnoonetraversetheroadbutourselves.Asforwhathemightchoosetosayhereafter,Iwouldtakemychanceaboutit:ifhetoldlies, I would contradict him; if he told the truth, I would bear it as best Icould. I was not obliged to enter into explanations further than I thoughtproper.Perhapshemightchoosetobesilentonthesubject,forfearofraisinginquiriesastothecauseofthequarrel,anddrawingthepublicattentiontohisconnection withMrs. Graham, which, whether for her sake or his own, heseemedsoverydesiroustoconceal.

Thus reasoning, I trotted away to the town, where I duly transacted mybusiness,andperformedvariouslittlecommissionsformymotherandRose,withvery laudableexactitude,considering thedifferentcircumstancesof thecase. In returning home, I was troubled with sundry misgivings about theunfortunateLawrence.Thequestion,WhatifIshouldfindhimlyingstillonthe damp earth, fairly dying of cold and exhaustion—or already stark andchill? thrust itself most unpleasantly upon my mind, and the appallingpossibility pictured itself with painful vividness to my imagination as IapproachedthespotwhereIhadlefthim.Butno,thankheaven,bothmanandhorseweregone,andnothingwaslefttowitnessagainstmebuttwoobjects—unpleasantenoughinthemselvestobesure,andpresentingaveryugly,nottosay murderous appearance—in one place, the hat saturated with rain andcoatedwithmud,indentedandbrokenabovethebrimbythatvillainouswhip-handle; in another, the crimson handkerchief, soaking in a deeply tincturedpoolofwater—formuchrainhadfallenintheinterim.

Bad news flies fast: it was hardly four o’clock when I got home, but mymother gravely accostedme with—‘Oh, Gilbert!—Such an accident! Rosehasbeenshoppinginthevillage,andshe’sheardthatMr.Lawrencehasbeenthrownfromhishorseandbroughthomedying!’

Thisshockedmeatrifle,asyoumaysuppose;butIwascomfortedtohearthathe had frightfully fractured his skull and broken a leg; for, assured of thefalsehoodofthis,I trustedtherestofthestorywasequallyexaggerated;andwhenIheardmymotherandsistersofeelinglydeploringhiscondition,Ihadconsiderabledifficultyinpreventingmyselffromtellingthemtherealextentoftheinjuries,asfarasIknewthem.

‘Youmustgoandseehimto-morrow,’saidmymother.

‘Or to-day,’ suggested Rose: ‘there’s plenty of time; and you can have thepony, as your horse is tired. Won’t you, Gilbert—as soon as you’ve had

somethingtoeat?’

‘No,no—howcanwetellthatitisn’tallafalsereport?It’shighlyim-’

‘Oh,I’msureitisn’t;forthevillageisallaliveaboutit;andIsawtwopeoplethathadseenothers thathadseenthemanthatfoundhim. Thatsoundsfar-fetched;butitisn’tsowhenyouthinkofit.’

‘Well, but Lawrence is a good rider; it is not likely hewould fall from hishorseatall;andifhedid,itishighlyimprobablehewouldbreakhisbonesinthatway.Itmustbeagrossexaggerationatleast.’

‘No;butthehorsekickedhim—orsomething.’

‘What,hisquietlittlepony?’

‘Howdoyouknowitwasthat?’

‘Heseldomridesanyother.’

‘Atanyrate,’saidmymother,‘youwillcallto-morrow.Whetheritbetrueorfalse,exaggeratedorotherwise,weshallliketoknowhowheis.’

‘Fergusmaygo.’

‘Whynotyou?’

‘Hehasmoretime.Iambusyjustnow.’

‘Oh! but,Gilbert, how can you be so composed about it? Youwon’tmindbusiness foranhouror two inacaseof thissort,whenyour friend isat thepointofdeath.’

‘Heisnot,Itellyou.’

‘Foranythingyouknow,hemaybe:youcan’ttelltillyouhaveseenhim.Atallevents,hemusthavemetwithsometerribleaccident,andyououghttoseehim:he’lltakeitveryunkindifyoudon’t.’

‘Confoundit!Ican’t.HeandIhavenotbeenongoodtermsoflate.’

‘Oh,mydearboy!Surely,surelyyouarenotsounforgivingastocarryyourlittledifferencestosuchalengthas—’

‘Littledifferences,indeed!’Imuttered.

‘Well,butonlyremembertheoccasion.Thinkhow—’

‘Well,well,don’tbothermenow—I’llseeaboutit,’Ireplied.

Andmyseeingabout itwastosendFergusnextmorning,withmymother’scompliments,tomaketherequisiteinquiries;for,ofcourse,mygoingwasout

of thequestion—or sendingamessageeither. Hebroughtback intelligencethattheyoungsquirewaslaidupwiththecomplicatedevilsofabrokenheadand certain contusions (occasioned by a fall—of which he did not troublehimselftorelatetheparticulars—andthesubsequentmisconductofhishorse),andaseverecold,theconsequenceoflyingonthewetgroundintherain;buttherewerenobrokenbones,andnoimmediateprospectsofdissolution.

Itwas evident, then, that forMrs.Graham’s sake itwasnot his intention tocriminateme.

CHAPTERXV

Thatdaywasrainylikeitspredecessor;buttowardseveningitbegantoclearupalittle,andthenextmorningwasfairandpromising.Iwasoutonthehillwiththereapers.Alightwindsweptoverthecorn,andallnaturelaughedinthesunshine.Thelarkwasrejoicingamongthesilveryfloatingclouds.Thelaterainhadsosweetlyfreshenedandclearedtheair,andwashedthesky,andleftsuchglitteringgemsonbranchandblade,thatnoteventhefarmerscouldhavetheheart toblameit. Butnorayofsunshinecouldreachmyheart,nobreezecouldfreshenit;nothingcouldfillthevoidmyfaith,andhope,andjoyinHelenGrahamhadleft,ordriveawaythekeenregretsandbitterdregsoflingeringlovethatstilloppressedit.

WhileIstoodwithfoldedarmsabstractedlygazingontheundulatingswellofthecorn,notyetdisturbedbythereapers,somethinggentlypulledmyskirts,and a small voice, no longer welcome to my ears, aroused me with thestartlingwords,—‘Mr.Markham,mammawantsyou.’

‘Wantsme,Arthur?’

‘Yes.Whydoyoulooksoqueer?’saidhe,halflaughing,halffrightenedattheunexpected aspect ofmy face in suddenly turning towards him,—‘andwhyhaveyoukeptsolongaway?Come!Won’tyoucome?’

‘I’mbusyjustnow,’Ireplied,scarceknowingwhattoanswer.

He looked up in childish bewilderment; but before I could speak again theladyherselfwasatmyside.

‘Gilbert,Imustspeakwithyou!’saidshe,inatoneofsuppressedvehemence.

Ilookedatherpalecheekandglitteringeye,butanswerednothing.

‘Onlyforamoment,’pleadedshe.‘Juststepasideintothisotherfield.’Sheglanced at the reapers, some of whom were directing looks of impertinent

curiositytowardsher.‘Iwon’tkeepyouaminute.’

Iaccompaniedherthroughthegap.

‘Arthur, darling, run and gather those bluebells,’ said she, pointing to somethatweregleamingatsomedistanceunderthehedgealongwhichwewalked.Thechildhesitated,asifunwillingtoquitmyside. ‘Go,love!’repeatedshemore urgently, and in a tone which, though not unkind, demanded promptobedience,andobtainedit.

‘Well,Mrs. Graham?’ said I, calmly and coldly; for, though I saw shewasmiserable,andpitiedher,Ifeltgladtohaveitinmypowertotormenther.

Shefixedhereyesuponmewithalookthatpiercedmetotheheart;andyetitmademesmile.

‘Idon’taskthereasonofthischange,Gilbert,’saidshe,withbittercalmness:‘Iknowittoowell;butthoughIcouldseemyselfsuspectedandcondemnedbyeveryoneelse,andbearitwithcalmness,Icannotendureitfromyou.—WhydidyounotcometohearmyexplanationonthedayIappointedtogiveit?’

‘BecauseIhappened,intheinterim,tolearnallyouwouldhavetoldme—andatriflemore,Iimagine.’

‘Impossible, for I would have told you all!’ cried she, passionately—‘but Iwon’tnow,forIseeyouarenotworthyofit!’

Andherpalelipsquiveredwithagitation.

‘Whynot,mayIask?’

Sherepelledmymockingsmilewithaglanceofscornfulindignation.

‘Becauseyouneverunderstoodme,oryouwouldnotsoonhavelistenedtomytraducers—myconfidencewouldbemisplacedinyou—youarenotthemanIthoughtyou.Go!Iwon’tcarewhatyouthinkofme.’

Sheturnedaway,andIwent;forIthoughtthatwouldtormentherasmuchasanything;andIbelieveIwasright;for,lookingbackaminuteafter,Isawherturnhalfround,asifhopingorexpectingtofindmestillbesideher;andthenshestoodstill,andcastonelookbehind.Itwasalooklessexpressiveofangerthan of bitter anguish and despair; but I immediately assumed an aspect ofindifference, and affected to be gazing carelessly aroundme, and I supposeshewenton;forafterlingeringawhiletoseeifshewouldcomebackorcall,Iventuredonemoreglance,andsawheragoodwayoff,movingrapidlyupthefield,withlittleArthurrunningbyhersideandapparentlytalkingashewent;but she kept her face averted from him, as if to hide some uncontrollable

emotion.AndIreturnedtomybusiness.

But I soon began to regretmy precipitancy in leaving her so soon. It wasevidentshelovedme—probablyshewastiredofMr.Lawrence,andwishedtoexchangehimforme;andifIhadlovedandreverencedherlesstobeginwith,the preference might have gratified and amused me; but now the contrastbetweenheroutwardseemingandherinwardmind,asIsupposed,—betweenmyformerandmypresentopinionofher,wassoharrowing—sodistressingtomyfeelings,thatitswallowedupeverylighterconsideration.

But still Iwas curious toknowwhat sort of an explanation shewouldhavegivenme—orwouldgivenow, ifIpressedherfor it—howmuchshewouldconfess,andhowshewouldendeavour toexcuseherself. I longed toknowwhattodespise,andwhattoadmireinher;howmuchtopity,andhowmuchtohate;—and,whatwasmore,Iwouldknow.Iwouldseeheroncemore,andfairlysatisfymyselfinwhatlighttoregardher,beforeweparted.Losttomeshewas, for ever, of course; but still I could not bear to think thatwe hadparted,forthelasttime,withsomuchunkindnessandmiseryonbothsides.Thatlastlookofhershadsunkintomyheart;Icouldnotforgetit.ButwhatafoolIwas!Hadshenotdeceivedme,injuredme—blightedmyhappinessforlife?‘Well,I’llseeher,however,’wasmyconcludingresolve,‘butnotto-day:to-dayand to-nightshemay thinkuponhersins,andbeasmiserableasshewill: to-morrow Iwill see her once again, and know somethingmore abouther. The interviewmaybeserviceable toher,or itmaynot. Atanyrate, itwillgiveabreathofexcitementtothelifeshehasdoomedtostagnation,andmaycalmwithcertaintysomeagitatingthoughts.’

Ididgoonthemorrow,butnottilltowardsevening,afterthebusinessofthedaywasconcluded,thatis,betweensixandseven;andthewesteringsunwasgleaming redly on the old Hall, and flaming in the latticed windows, as Ireachedit,impartingtotheplaceacheerfulnessnotitsown.IneednotdilateuponthefeelingswithwhichIapproachedtheshrineofmyformerdivinity—thatspotteemingwithathousanddelightfulrecollectionsandgloriousdreams—alldarkenednowbyonedisastroustruth

Racheladmittedmeintotheparlour,andwenttocallhermistress,forshewasnotthere:buttherewasherdeskleftopenonthelittleroundtablebesidethehigh-backedchair,withabooklaiduponit.Herlimitedbutchoicecollectionofbookswasalmostasfamiliartomeasmyown;butthisvolumeIhadnotseen before. I took it up. It was Sir Humphry Davy’s ‘Last Days of aPhilosopher,’andonthefirstleafwaswritten,‘FrederickLawrence.’Iclosedthebook,butkeptitinmyhand,andstoodfacingthedoor,withmybacktothefire-place,calmlywaitingherarrival;forIdidnotdoubtshewouldcome.AndsoonIheardherstepinthehall.Myheartwasbeginningtothrob,butI

checkeditwithaninternalrebuke,andmaintainedmycomposure—outwardlyatleast.Sheentered,calm,pale,collected.

‘Towhat am I indebted for this favour,Mr.Markham?’ said she,with suchsevere but quiet dignity as almost disconcerted me; but I answered with asmile,andimpudentlyenough,—

‘Well,Iamcometohearyourexplanation.’

‘I toldyou Iwouldnotgive it,’ said she. ‘I saidyouwereunworthyofmyconfidence.’

‘Oh,verywell,’repliedI,movingtothedoor.

‘Stayamoment,’saidshe.‘ThisisthelasttimeIshallseeyou:don’tgojustyet.’

Iremained,awaitingherfurthercommands.

‘Tellme,’resumedshe,‘onwhatgroundsyoubelievethesethingsagainstme;whotoldyou;andwhatdidtheysay?’

I paused amoment. Shemetmy eye as unflinchingly as if her bosomhadbeensteeledwithconsciousinnocence.Shewasresolvedtoknowtheworst,anddetermined todare it too. ‘I cancrush thatbold spirit,’ thought I. ButwhileIsecretlyexultedinmypower,Ifeltdisposedtodallywithmyvictimlikeacat.ShowingherthebookthatIstillheld,inmyhand,andpointingtothenameonthefly-leaf,butfixingmyeyeuponherface,Iasked,—‘Doyouknowthatgentleman?’

‘Of course I do,’ replied she; and a sudden flush suffused her features—whether of shame or anger I could not tell: it rather resembled the latter.‘Whatnext,sir?’

‘Howlongisitsinceyousawhim?’

‘Whogaveyoutherighttocatechizemeonthisoranyothersubject?’

‘Oh,noone!—it’squiteatyouroptionwhethertoanswerornot.Andnow,letme ask—have you heard what has lately befallen this friend of yours?—because,ifyouhavenot—’

‘I will not be insulted, Mr. Markham!’ cried she, almost infuriated at mymanner.‘Soyouhadbetterleavethehouseatonce,ifyoucameonlyforthat.’

‘Ididnotcometoinsultyou:Icametohearyourexplanation.’

‘And I tell you Iwon’t give it!’ retorted she, pacing the room in a state ofstrongexcitement,withherhandsclaspedtightlytogether,breathingshort,andflashingfiresofindignationfromhereyes.‘Iwillnotcondescendtoexplain

myselftoonethatcanmakeajestofsuchhorriblesuspicions,andbesoeasilyledtoentertainthem.’

‘Idonotmakeajestofthem,Mrs.Graham,’returnedI,droppingatoncemytoneoftauntingsarcasm.‘IheartilywishIcouldfindthemajestingmatter.And as to being easily led to suspect, God only knows what a blind,incredulous fool I have hitherto been, perseveringly shutting my eyes andstoppingmyearsagainsteverythingthatthreatenedtoshakemyconfidenceinyou,tillproofitselfconfoundedmyinfatuation!’

‘Whatproof,sir?’

‘Well,I’lltellyou.YourememberthateveningwhenIwasherelast?’

‘Ido.’

‘Eventhenyoudroppedsomehintsthatmighthaveopenedtheeyesofawiserman;but theyhadnosucheffectuponme:Iwentontrustingandbelieving,hoping against hope, and adoring where I could not comprehend. It sohappened,however,thatafterIleftyouIturnedback—drawnbypuredepthofsympathyandardourofaffection—notdaringtointrudemypresenceopenlyuponyou,butunabletoresistthetemptationofcatchingoneglimpsethroughthewindow, just toseehowyouwere: for Ihad leftyouapparently ingreataffliction,andIpartlyblamedmyownwantofforbearanceanddiscretionasthe cause of it. If I did wrong, love alone was my incentive, and thepunishmentwassevereenough;foritwasjustasIhadreachedthattree,thatyoucameoutintothegardenwithyourfriend.Notchoosingtoshowmyself,underthecircumstances,Istoodstill,intheshadow,tillyouhadbothpassedby.’

‘Andhowmuchofourconversationdidyouhear?’

‘Iheardquiteenough,Helen. And itwaswell forme that Ididhear it; fornothinglesscouldhavecuredmyinfatuation.Ialwayssaidandthought,thatIwouldneverbelieveawordagainstyou,unlessIhearditfromyourownlips.All the hints and affirmations of others I treated as malignant, baselessslanders;yourownself-accusationsIbelievedtobeoverstrained;andallthatseemedunaccountableinyourpositionItrustedthatyoucouldaccountforifyouchose.’

Mrs. Graham had discontinued herwalk. She leant against one end of thechimney-piece,oppositethatnearwhichIwasstanding,withherchinrestingon her closed hand, her eyes—no longer burning with anger, but gleamingwith restless excitement—sometimes glancing at me while I spoke, thencoursingtheoppositewall,orfixeduponthecarpet.

‘Youshouldhavecometomeafterall,’saidshe,‘andheardwhatIhadtosay

inmyownjustification.Itwasungenerousandwrongtowithdrawyourselfsosecretly and suddenly, immediately after such ardent protestations ofattachment,withouteverassigningareasonforthechange.Youshouldhavetold me all-no matter how bitterly. It would have been better than thissilence.’

‘Towhat end should I have done so? You could not have enlightenedmefurther,on thesubjectwhichaloneconcernedme;norcouldyouhavemademe discredit the evidence of my senses. I desired our intimacy to bediscontinued at once, as you yourself had acknowledgedwould probably bethecaseifIknewall;butIdidnotwishtoupbraidyou,—though(asyoualsoacknowledged)youhaddeeplywrongedme.Yes,youhavedonemeaninjuryyou can never repair—or any other either—you have blighted the freshnessandpromiseofyouth,andmademylifeawilderness!Imightliveahundredyears,butIcouldneverrecoverfromtheeffectsofthiswitheringblow—andnever forget it! Hereafter—You smile, Mrs. Graham,’ said I, suddenlystoppingshort,checkedinmypassionatedeclamationbyunutterablefeelingstobeholdheractuallysmilingatthepictureoftheruinshehadwrought.

‘DidI?’repliedshe, lookingseriouslyup;‘Iwasnotawareof it. IfIdid, itwas not for pleasure at the thoughts of the harm I had done you. HeavenknowsIhavehadtormentenoughatthebarepossibilityofthat;itwasforjoytofindthatyouhadsomedepthofsoulandfeelingafterall,andtohopethatIhadnotbeenutterlymistakeninyourworth.Butsmilesandtearsaresoalikewithme,theyareneitherofthemconfinedtoanyparticularfeelings:IoftencrywhenIamhappy,andsmilewhenIamsad.’

Shelookedatmeagain,andseemedtoexpectareply;butIcontinuedsilent.

‘Would you be very glad,’ resumed she, ‘to find that youweremistaken inyourconclusions?’

‘Howcanyouaskit,Helen?’

‘I don’t say I can clearmyself altogether,’ said she, speaking low and fast,while her heart beat visibly and her bosom heaved with excitement,—‘butwouldyoubegladtodiscoverIwasbetterthanyouthinkme?’

‘Anythingthatcouldintheleastdegreetendtorestoremyformeropinionofyou, to excuse the regard I still feel for you, and alleviate the pangs ofunutterable regret that accompany it, would be only too gladly, too eagerlyreceived!’ Her cheeks burned, and her whole frame trembled, now, withexcess of agitation. She did not speak, but flew to her desk, and snatchingthencewhatseemedathickalbumormanuscriptvolume,hastilytoreawayafewleavesfromtheend,andthrusttherestintomyhand,saying,‘Youneedn’treaditall;buttakeithomewithyou,’andhurriedfromtheroom.ButwhenI

hadleftthehouse,andwasproceedingdownthewalk,sheopenedthewindowandcalledmeback.Itwasonlytosay,—‘Bringitbackwhenyouhavereadit;anddon’tbreatheawordofwhat it tellsyou toany livingbeing. I trust toyourhonour.’

BeforeIcouldanswershehadclosedthecasementandturnedaway.Isawhercastherselfbackintheoldoakchair,andcoverherfacewithherhands.Herfeelingshadbeenwroughttoapitchthatrendereditnecessarytoseekreliefintears.

Pantingwitheagerness,andstrugglingtosuppressmyhopes,Ihurriedhome,andrushedup-stairstomyroom,havingfirstprovidedmyselfwithacandle,thoughitwasscarcelytwilightyet—then,shutandboltedthedoor,determinedto tolerateno interruption;andsittingdownbefore the table,openedoutmyprize and delivered myself up to its perusal—first hastily turning over theleaves and snatching a sentence here and there, and then setting myselfsteadilytoreaditthrough.

Ihaveitnowbeforeme;andthoughyoucouldnot,ofcourse,peruseitwithhalf the interest that I did, I know you would not be satisfied with anabbreviationofitscontents,andyoushallhavethewhole,save,perhaps,afewpassageshereandthereofmerelytemporaryinteresttothewriter,orsuchaswouldservetoencumberthestoryratherthanelucidateit.Itbeginssomewhatabruptly,thus—butwewillreserveitscommencementforanotherchapter.

CHAPTERXVI

June 1st, 1821.—We have just returned to Staningley—that is, we returnedsomedaysago,andIamnotyetsettled,andfeelasifInevershouldbe.Weleft town sooner than was intended, in consequence of my uncle’sindisposition;—Iwonderwhatwouldhavebeentheresultifwehadstayedthefulltime.Iamquiteashamedofmynew-sprungdistasteforcountrylife.Allmyformeroccupationsseemso tediousanddull,myformeramusementssoinsipidandunprofitable.Icannotenjoymymusic,becausethereisnoonetohearit. Icannotenjoymywalks,becausethereisnoonetomeet. Icannotenjoymybooks,becausetheyhavenotpowertoarrestmyattention:myheadissohauntedwiththerecollectionsofthelastfewweeks,thatIcannotattendtothem.Mydrawingsuitsmebest,forIcandrawandthinkatthesametime;andifmyproductionscannotnowbeseenbyanyonebutmyself,andthosewhodonotcareaboutthem,they,possibly,maybe,hereafter.But,then,thereis one face I am always trying to paint or to sketch, and always withoutsuccess;andthatvexesme.Asfortheownerofthatface,Icannotgethimout

ofmymind—and,indeed,Inevertry.Iwonderwhetherheeverthinksofme;and Iwonderwhether I shall ever seehimagain. And thenmight followatrain of other wonderments—questions for time and fate to answer—concluding with—Supposing all the rest be answered in the affirmative, Iwonderwhether Ishallever repent it?asmyauntwould tellmeIshould, ifsheknewwhatIwasthinkingabout.

HowdistinctlyIrememberourconversationthateveningbeforeourdeparturefortown,whenweweresittingtogetheroverthefire,myunclehavinggonetobedwithaslightattackofthegout.

‘Helen,’ said she, after a thoughtful silence, ‘do you ever think aboutmarriage?’

‘Yes,aunt,often.’

‘And do you ever contemplate the possibility of beingmarried yourself, orengaged,beforetheseasonisover?’

‘Sometimes;butIdon’tthinkitatalllikelythatIevershall.’

‘Whyso?’

‘Because,Iimagine,theremustbeonlyavery,veryfewmenintheworldthatI should like to marry; and of those few, it is ten to one I may never beacquaintedwithone;orifIshould,itistwentytoonehemaynothappentobesingle,ortotakeafancytome.’

‘Thatisnoargumentatall.Itmaybeverytrue—andIhopeistrue,thattherearevery fewmenwhomyouwould choose tomarry, ofyourself. It is not,indeed, to be supposed that youwouldwish tomarry anyone till youwereasked:agirl’saffectionsshouldneverbewonunsought. Butwhen theyaresought—whenthecitadeloftheheartisfairlybesieged—itisapttosurrendersoonerthantheownerisawareof,andoftenagainstherbetterjudgment,andin opposition to all her preconceived ideas of what she could have loved,unlessshebeextremelycarefulanddiscreet.Now,Iwanttowarnyou,Helen,of these things, and to exhort you to bewatchful and circumspect from theverycommencementofyourcareer,andnot tosufferyourheart tobestolenfromyoubythefirstfoolishorunprincipledpersonthatcovetsthepossessionofit.—Youknow,mydear,youareonlyjusteighteen;thereisplentyoftimebeforeyou,andneitheryourunclenor I are inanyhurry togetyouoffourhands,andImayventuretosay,therewillbenolackofsuitors;foryoucanboastagoodfamily,aprettyconsiderablefortuneandexpectations,and,Imayas well tell you likewise—for, if I don’t, others will—that you have a fairshareofbeautybesides—andIhopeyoumayneverhavecausetoregretit!’

‘Ihopenot,aunt;butwhyshouldyoufearit?’

‘Because,mydear,beauty is thatqualitywhich,next tomoney, isgenerallythemost attractive to theworst kinds ofmen; and, therefore, it is likely toentailagreatdealoftroubleonthepossessor.’

‘Haveyoubeentroubledinthatway,aunt?’

‘No,Helen,’ saidshe,with reproachfulgravity, ‘but Iknowmany thathave;andsome,throughcarelessness,havebeenthewretchedvictimsofdeceit;andsome, throughweakness, have fallen into snares and temptations terrible torelate.’

‘Well,Ishallbeneithercarelessnorweak.’

‘RememberPeter,Helen! Don’t boast, butwatch. Keep aguardoveryoureyesandearsastheinletsofyourheart,andoveryourlipsastheoutlet,lestthey betray you in a moment of unwariness. Receive, coldly anddispassionately,everyattention,tillyouhaveascertainedanddulyconsideredthe worth of the aspirant; and let your affections be consequent uponapprobation alone. First study; then approve; then love. Let your eyes beblindtoallexternalattractions,yourearsdeaftoallthefascinationsofflatteryandlightdiscourse.—Thesearenothing—andworsethannothing—snaresandwilesofthetempter,tolurethethoughtlesstotheirowndestruction.Principleis the first thing, after all; and next to that, good sense, respectability, andmoderate wealth. If you should marry the handsomest, and mostaccomplishedandsuperficiallyagreeablemanintheworld,youlittleknowthemisery thatwould overwhelm you if, after all, you should find him to be aworthlessreprobate,orevenanimpracticablefool.’

‘But what are all the poor fools and reprobates to do, aunt? If everybodyfollowedyouradvice,theworldwouldsooncometoanend.’

‘Never fear, my dear! the male fools and reprobates will never want forpartners,whiletherearesomanyoftheothersextomatchthem;butdoyoufollowmyadvice.Andthisisnosubjectforjesting,Helen—Iamsorrytoseeyou treat thematter in that light way. Believeme,matrimony is a seriousthing.’ And she spoke it so seriously, that one might have fancied she hadknownit tohercost;but Iaskednomore impertinentquestions,andmerelyanswered,—‘Iknowitis;andIknowthereistruthandsenseinwhatyousay;butyouneednotfearme,forInotonlyshouldthinkitwrongtomarryamanthatwasdeficientinsenseorinprinciple,butIshouldneverbetemptedtodoit; for I could not like him, if he were ever so handsome, and ever socharming, in other respects; I should hate him—despise him—pity him—anything but love him. My affections not only ought to be founded onapprobation, but theywill andmust be so: for,without approving, I cannotlove.Itisneedlesstosay,IoughttobeabletorespectandhonourthemanI

marry,aswellaslovehim,forIcannotlovehimwithout.Sosetyourmindatrest.’

‘Ihopeitmaybeso,’answeredshe.

‘Iknowitisso,’persistedI.

‘Youhavenotbeentriedyet,Helen—wecanbuthope,’saidsheinhercold,cautiousway.

‘I was vexed at her incredulity; but I am not sure her doubtswere entirelywithout sagacity; I fear Ihave found itmucheasier to rememberheradvicethan to profit by it;—indeed, I have sometimes been led to question thesoundnessofherdoctrinesonthosesubjects. Hercounselsmaybegood,asfarastheygo—inthemainpointsatleast;—buttherearesomethingsshehasoverlookedinhercalculations.Iwonderifshewaseverinlove.

Icommencedmycareer—ormyfirstcampaign,asmyunclecallsit—kindlingwithbrighthopesand fancies—chiefly raisedby thisconversation—and fullofconfidenceinmyowndiscretion.Atfirst,IwasdelightedwiththenoveltyandexcitementofourLondonlife;butsoonIbegantowearyofitsmingledturbulence and constraint, and sigh for the freshness and freedomof home.Mynewacquaintances,bothmaleandfemale,disappointedmyexpectations,andvexedanddepressedmebyturns;forIsoongrewtiredofstudyingtheirpeculiarities, and laughing at their foibles—particularly as I was obliged tokeepmycriticismstomyself,formyauntwouldnothearthem—andthey—the ladies especially—appeared so provokinglymindless, and heartless, andartificial. Thegentlemenseemedbetter,but,perhaps, itwasbecauseIknewthemless—perhaps,becausetheyflatteredme;butIdidnotfallinlovewithanyof them;and, if theirattentionspleasedmeonemoment, theyprovokedmethenext,becausetheyputmeoutofhumourwithmyself,byrevealingmyvanityandmakingmefearIwasbecominglikesomeoftheladiesIsoheartilydespised.

Therewasoneelderlygentlemanthatannoyedmeverymuch;aricholdfriendofmyuncle’s,who,Ibelieve, thoughtIcouldnotdobetter thanmarryhim;but,besidesbeingold,hewasuglyanddisagreeable,—andwicked,Iamsure,thoughmyauntscoldedmeforsayingso;butsheallowedhewasnosaint.And there was another, less hateful, but still more tiresome, because shefavoured him, and was always thrusting him upon me, and sounding hispraises inmyears—Mr.Boarhambyname,Bore’em,as Iprefer spelling it,fora terribleborehewas: I shudder still at the remembranceofhisvoice—drone,drone,drone,inmyear—whilehesatbesideme,prosingawaybythehalf-hour together, and beguiling himself with the notion that he wasimprovingmymindbyusefulinformation,orimpressinghisdogmasuponme

andreformingmyerrorsofjudgment,orperhapsthathewastalkingdowntomy level,andamusingmewithentertainingdiscourse. Yethewasadecentmanenough in themain, I daresay; and if hehadkept his distance, I neverwouldhavehatedhim.Asitwas,itwasalmostimpossibletohelpit,forhenotonlybotheredmewiththeinflictionofhisownpresence,buthekeptmefromtheenjoymentofmoreagreeablesociety.

Onenight,however,ataball,hehadbeenmorethanusuallytormenting,andmy patiencewas quite exhausted. It appeared as if thewhole eveningwasfated to be insupportable: I had just had one dance with an empty-headedcoxcomb,andthenMr.Boarhamhadcomeuponmeandseemeddeterminedtoclingtomefortherestofthenight.Heneverdancedhimself,andtherehesat,pokinghisheadinmyface,andimpressingallbeholderswiththeideathathewasaconfirmed,acknowledgedlover;myauntlookingcomplacentlyonallthetime,andwishinghimGod-speed.InvainIattemptedtodrivehimawayby giving a loose to my exasperated feelings, even to positive rudeness:nothingcouldconvincehimthathispresencewasdisagreeable.Sullensilencewastakenforraptattention,andgavehimgreaterroomtotalk;sharpanswerswere received as smart sallies of girlish vivacity, that only required anindulgentrebuke;andflatcontradictionswerebutasoiltotheflames,callingforthnewstrainsofargumenttosupporthisdogmas,andbringingdownuponmeendlessfloodsofreasoningtooverwhelmmewithconviction.

But therewas one presentwho seemed to have a better appreciation ofmyframeofmind.Agentlemanstoodby,whohadbeenwatchingourconferencefor some time, evidently much amused at my companion’s remorselesspertinacityandmymanifestannoyance,andlaughingtohimselfattheasperityanduncompromisingspiritofmy replies. At length,however,hewithdrew,andwent to the lady of the house, apparently for the purpose of asking anintroduction tome, for, shortlyafter, theybothcameup, and she introducedhimasMr.Huntingdon,thesonofalatefriendofmyuncle’s.Heaskedmetodance. Igladlyconsented,ofcourse; andhewasmycompanionduring theremainderofmystay,whichwasnotlong,formyaunt,asusual,insisteduponanearlydeparture.

I was sorry to go, for I had foundmy new acquaintance a very lively andentertainingcompanion.Therewasacertaingracefuleaseandfreedomaboutallhesaidanddid,thatgaveasenseofreposeandexpansiontothemind,aftersomuchconstraintandformalityasIhadbeendoomedtosuffer.Theremightbe,itistrue,alittletoomuchcarelessboldnessinhismannerandaddress,butIwasinsogoodahumour,andsogratefulformylatedeliverancefromMr.Boarham,thatitdidnotangerme.

‘Well,Helen,howdoyoulikeMr.Boarhamnow?’saidmyaunt,aswetook

ourseatsinthecarriageanddroveaway.

‘Worsethanever,’Ireplied.

Shelookeddispleased,butsaidnomoreonthatsubject.

‘Whowas the gentleman you dancedwith last,’ resumed she, after a pause—‘thatwassoofficiousinhelpingyouonwithyourshawl?’

‘Hewasnotofficiousatall,aunt:heneverattempted tohelpme tillhesawMr.Boarhamcoming to do so; and thenhe stepped laughingly forward andsaid,“Come,I’llpreserveyoufromthatinfliction.”’

‘Whowasit,Iask?’saidshe,withfrigidgravity.

‘ItwasMr.Huntingdon,thesonofuncle’soldfriend.’

‘IhaveheardyourunclespeakofyoungMr.Huntingdon.I’veheardhimsay,“He’sa fine lad, thatyoungHuntingdon,but abitwildish, I fancy.” So I’dhaveyoubeware.’

‘Whatdoes“abitwildish”mean?’Iinquired.

‘Itmeans destitute of principle, and prone to every vice that is common toyouth.’

‘But I’ve heard uncle say he was a sad wild fellow himself, when he wasyoung.’

Shesternlyshookherhead.

‘Hewasjestingthen,Isuppose,’saidI,‘andherehewasspeakingatrandom—atleast,Icannotbelievethereisanyharminthoselaughingblueeyes.’

‘Falsereasoning,Helen!’saidshe,withasigh.

‘Well,weoughttobecharitable,youknow,aunt—besides,Idon’tthinkitisfalse: I am an excellent physiognomist, and I always judge of people’scharactersbytheirlooks—notbywhethertheyarehandsomeorugly,butbythe general cast of the countenance. For instance, I should know by yourcountenance that you were not of a cheerful, sanguine disposition; and IshouldknowbyMr.Wilmot’s,thathewasaworthlessoldreprobate;andbyMr. Boarham’s, that he was not an agreeable companion; and by Mr.Huntingdon’s,thathewasneitherafoolnoraknave,though,possibly,neitherasagenorasaint—butthatisnomattertome,asIamnotlikelytomeethimagain—unlessasanoccasionalpartnerintheball-room.’

Itwasnot so,however, for Imethimagainnextmorning. Hecame tocalluponmyuncle,apologisingfornothavingdonesobefore,bysayinghewasonly lately returned from theContinent, andhadnot heard, till the previous

night,ofmyuncle’sarrivalintown;andafterthatIoftenmethim;sometimesinpublic,sometimesathome;forhewasveryassiduousinpayinghisrespectstohisold friend,whodidnot, however, considerhimselfgreatlyobligedbytheattention.

‘Iwonderwhat thedeuce the ladmeansbycomingsooften,’hewouldsay,—‘canyou tell,Helen?—Hey? Hewantsnoneo’mycompany,nor Ihis—that’scertain.’

‘Iwishyou’dtellhimso,then,’saidmyaunt.

‘Why,what for? If I don’twanthim, somebodydoes,mayhap’ (winkingatme).‘Besides,he’saprettytidyfortune,Peggy,youknow—notsuchacatchasWilmot;butthenHelenwon’thearofthatmatch:for,somehow,theseoldchapsdon’tgodownwiththegirls—withalltheirmoney,andtheirexperiencetoboot.I’llbetanythingshe’dratherhavethisyoungfellowwithoutapenny,thanWilmotwithhishousefullofgold.Wouldn’tyou,Nell?’

‘Yes,uncle;butthat’snotsayingmuchforMr.Huntingdon;forI’dratherbeanoldmaidandapauperthanMrs.Wilmot.’

‘AndMrs.Huntingdon?WhatwouldyouratherbethanMrs.Huntingdon—eh?’

‘I’lltellyouwhenI’veconsideredthematter.’

‘Ah! itneedsconsideration, then? Butcome,now—wouldyouratherbeanoldmaid—letalonethepauper?’

‘Ican’ttelltillI’masked.’

And I left the room immediately, to escape further examination. But fiveminutesafter,inlookingfrommywindow,IbeheldMr.Boarhamcominguptothedoor.Iwaitednearlyhalf-an-hourinuncomfortablesuspense,expectingeveryminutetobecalled,andvainlylongingtohearhimgo.Thenfootstepswere heard on the stairs, and my aunt entered the room with a solemncountenance,andclosedthedoorbehindher.

‘HereisMr.Boarham,Helen,’saidshe.‘Hewishestoseeyou.’

‘Oh,aunt!—Can’tyoutellhimI’mindisposed?—I’msureIam—toseehim.’

‘Nonsense,mydear!thisisnotriflingmatter.Heiscomeonaveryimportanterrand—toaskyourhandinmarriageofyouruncleandme.’

‘Ihopemyuncleandyoutoldhimitwasnotinyourpowertogiveit.Whatrighthadhetoaskanyonebeforeme?’

‘Helen!’

‘Whatdidmyunclesay?’

‘He said he would not interfere in the matter; if you liked to accept Mr.Boarham’sobligingoffer,you—’

‘Didhesayobligingoffer?’

‘No;hesaidifyoulikedtotakehimyoumight;andifnot,youmightpleaseyourself.’

‘Hesaidright;andwhatdidyousay?’

‘ItisnomatterwhatIsaid.Whatwillyousay?—thatisthequestion.Heisnowwaitingtoaskyouhimself;butconsiderwellbeforeyougo;andifyouintendtorefusehim,givemeyourreasons.’

‘Ishallrefusehim,ofcourse;butyoumusttellmehow,forIwanttobeciviland yet decided—and when I’ve got rid of him, I’ll give you my reasonsafterwards.’

‘Butstay,Helen;sitdownalittleandcomposeyourself.Mr.Boarhamisinnoparticularhurry,forhehaslittledoubtofyouracceptance;andIwanttospeakwithyou.Tellme,mydear,whatareyourobjectionstohim?Doyoudenythatheisanupright,honourableman?’

‘No.’

‘Doyoudenythatheissensible,sober,respectable?’

‘No;hemaybeallthis,but—’

‘But,Helen!Howmanysuchmendoyouexpecttomeetwithintheworld?Upright, honourable, sensible, sober, respectable! Is this such an every-daycharacterthatyoushouldrejectthepossessorofsuchnoblequalitieswithoutamoment’shesitation?Yes,nobleImaycallthem;forthinkofthefullmeaningof each, and how many inestimable virtues they include (and I might addmanymore to the list),andconsider thatall this is laidatyourfeet. It is inyourpowertosecurethisinestimableblessingforlife—aworthyandexcellenthusband,wholovesyoutenderly,butnottoofondlysoastoblindhimtoyourfaults,andwillbeyourguidethroughoutlife’spilgrimage,andyourpartnerineternalbliss.Thinkhow—’

‘ButIhatehim,aunt,’saidI,interruptingthisunusualflowofeloquence.

‘Hatehim,Helen!IsthisaChristianspirit?—youhatehim?andhesogoodaman!’

‘Idon’thatehimasaman,butasahusband.Asaman,IlovehimsomuchthatIwishhimabetterwifethanI—oneasgoodashimself,orbetter—ifyou

think that possible—provided she could like him; but I never could, andtherefore—’

‘Butwhynot?Whatobjectiondoyoufind?’

‘Firstly,heisatleastfortyyearsold—considerablymore,Ishouldthink—andIambuteighteen;secondly,heisnarrow-mindedandbigotedintheextreme;thirdly, his tastes and feelings are wholly dissimilar to mine; fourthly, hislooks,voice,andmannerareparticularlydispleasingtome;and,finally,IhaveanaversiontohiswholepersonthatInevercansurmount.’

‘Thenyouought to surmount it. Andplease to comparehim for amomentwithMr.Huntingdon,and,goodlooksapart(whichcontributenothingtothemeritoftheman,ortothehappinessofmarriedlife,andwhichyouhavesooftenprofessedtoholdinlightesteem),tellmewhichisthebetterman.’

‘IhavenodoubtMr.Huntingdonisamuchbettermanthanyouthinkhim;butwe are not talking about him now, but aboutMr.Boarham; and as Iwouldrathergrow,live,anddieinsingleblessedness—thanbehiswife,itisbutrightthatIshouldtellhimsoatonce,andputhimoutofsuspense—soletmego.’

‘Butdon’tgivehimaflatdenial;hehasnoideaofsuchathing,anditwouldoffendhimgreatly:sayyouhavenothoughtsofmatrimonyatpresent—’

‘ButIhavethoughtsofit.’

‘Orthatyoudesireafurtheracquaintance.’

‘ButIdon’tdesireafurtheracquaintance—quitethecontrary.’

AndwithoutwaitingforfurtheradmonitionsIlefttheroomandwenttoseekMr. Boarham. He was walking up and down the drawing-room, hummingsnatchesoftunesandnibblingtheendofhiscane.

‘Mydearyounglady,’saidhe,bowingandsmirkingwithgreatcomplacency,‘Ihaveyourkindguardian’spermission—’

‘Iknow,sir,’saidI,wishingtoshortenthesceneasmuchaspossible,‘andIamgreatlyobligedforyourpreference,butmustbegtodeclinethehonouryouwishtoconfer, forI thinkwewerenotmadeforeachother,asyouyourselfwouldshortlydiscoveriftheexperimentweretried.’

My aunt was right. It was quite evident he had had little doubt of myacceptance, andno idea of a positive denial. Hewas amazed, astounded atsuch an answer, but too incredulous to bemuch offended; and after a littlehummingandhawing,hereturnedtotheattack.

‘I know, my dear, that there exists a considerable disparity between us inyears,intemperament,andperhapssomeotherthings;butletmeassureyou,I

shallnotbeseveretomarkthefaultsandfoiblesofayoungandardentnaturesuchasyours,andwhileIacknowledgethemtomyself,andevenrebukethemwithallafather’scare,believeme,noyouthfullovercouldbemoretenderlyindulgenttowardstheobjectofhisaffectionsthanItoyou;and,ontheotherhand, let me hope that my more experienced years and graver habits ofreflectionwillbenodisparagementinyoureyes,asIshallendeavourtomakethemallconducivetoyourhappiness.Come,now!Whatdoyousay?Letushavenoyounglady’saffectationsandcaprices,butspeakoutatonce.’

‘Iwill, but only to repeatwhat I saidbefore, that I amcertainwewerenotmadeforeachother.’

‘Youreallythinkso?’

‘Ido.’

‘Butyoudon’tknowme—youwishforafurtheracquaintance—alongertimeto—’

‘No,Idon’t.IknowyouaswellasIevershall,andbetterthanyouknowme,or you would never dream of uniting yourself to one so incongruous—soutterlyunsuitabletoyouineveryway.’

‘But,mydearyounglady,Idon’tlookforperfection;Icanexcuse—’

‘Thankyou,Mr.Boarham,butIwon’ttrespassuponyourgoodness.Youmaysave your indulgence and consideration for some more worthy object, thatwon’ttaxthemsoheavily.’

‘Butletmebegyoutoconsultyouraunt;thatexcellentlady,Iamsure,will—’

‘Ihaveconsultedher;andIknowherwishescoincidewithyours;butinsuchimportantmatters,Itakethelibertyofjudgingformyself;andnopersuasioncanaltermy inclinations,or induceme tobelieve that suchastepwouldbeconducive to my happiness or yours—and I wonder that a man of yourexperienceanddiscretionshouldthinkofchoosingsuchawife.’

‘Ah, well!’ said he, ‘I have sometimes wondered at that myself. I havesometimes said tomyself, “NowBoarham,what is this you’re after? Takecare,man—lookbefore you leap! This is a sweet, bewitching creature, butremember,thebrightestattractionstothelovertoooftenprovethehusband’sgreatesttorments!”Iassureyoumychoicehasnotbeenmadewithoutmuchreasoningandreflection.Theseemingimprudenceofthematchhascostmemanyananxious thoughtbyday,andmanyasleeplesshourbynight;butatlength I satisfiedmyself that itwasnot, inverydeed, imprudent. I sawmysweetgirlwasnotwithoutherfaults,butoftheseheryouth,Itrusted,wasnotone, but rather an earnest of virtues yet unblown—a strong ground of

presumptionthatherlittledefectsoftemperanderrorsofjudgment,opinion,ormannerwerenotirremediable,butmighteasilyberemovedormitigatedbythepatient effortsof awatchful and judicious adviser, andwhere I failed toenlighten and control, I thought Imight safely undertake to pardon, for thesakeofhermanyexcellences.Therefore,mydearestgirl,sinceIamsatisfied,whyshouldyouobject—onmyaccount,atleast?’

‘Buttotellyouthetruth,Mr.Boarham,itisonmyownaccountIprincipallyobject; so let us—drop the subject,’ Iwould have said, ‘for it isworse thanuseless to pursue it any further,’ but he pertinaciously interruptedme with,—‘Butwhyso?Iwouldloveyou,cherishyou,protectyou,’&c.,&c.

Ishallnottroublemyselftoputdownallthatpassedbetweenus.Sufficeittosay,thatIfoundhimverytroublesome,andveryhardtoconvincethatIreallymeantwhatIsaid,andreallywassoobstinateandblindtomyowninterests,thattherewasnoshadowofachancethateitherheormyauntwouldeverbeabletoovercomemyobjections.Indeed,IamnotsurethatIsucceededafterall;thoughweariedwithhissopertinaciouslyreturningtothesamepointandrepeatingthesameargumentsoverandoveragain,forcingmetoreiteratethesamereplies,Iatlengthturnedshortandsharpuponhim,andmylastwordswere,—‘Itellyouplainly,thatitcannotbe.Noconsiderationcaninducemetomarryagainstmyinclinations.Irespectyou—atleast,Iwouldrespectyou,if youwouldbehave like a sensibleman—but I cannot loveyou, andnevercould—andthemoreyoutalkthefurtheryourepelme;sopraydon’tsayanymoreaboutit.’

Whereupon hewishedme a good-morning, andwithdrew, disconcerted andoffended,nodoubt;butsurelyitwasnotmyfault.

CHAPTERXVII

The next day I accompanied my uncle and aunt to a dinner-party at Mr.Wilmot’s. He had two ladies stayingwith him: his nieceAnnabella, a finedashinggirl, or rather youngwoman,—of some five-and-twenty, toogreat aflirttobemarried,accordingtoherownassertion,butgreatlyadmiredbythegentlemen,whouniversallypronouncedherasplendidwoman;andhergentlecousin,MilicentHargrave,whohadtakenaviolentfancytome,mistakingmeforsomethingvastlybetterthanIwas.AndI,inreturn,wasveryfondofher.IshouldentirelyexcludepoorMilicentinmygeneralanimadversionsagainsttheladiesofmyacquaintance.Butitwasnotonheraccount,orhercousin’s,thatIhavementionedtheparty:itwasforthesakeofanotherofMr.Wilmot’sguests,towitMr.Huntingdon.Ihavegoodreasontorememberhispresence

there,forthiswasthelasttimeIsawhim.

Hedidnotsitnearmeatdinner;foritwashisfatetohandinacapaciousolddowager,andminetobehandedinbyMr.Grimsby,afriendofhis,butamanI very greatly disliked: there was a sinister cast in his countenance, and amixture of lurking ferocity and fulsome insincerity in his demeanour, that Icouldnotawaywith.Whatatiresomecustomthatis,by-the-by—oneamongthemany sources of factitious annoyance of this ultra-civilised life. If thegentlemenmust lead the ladies into the dining-room,why cannot they takethosetheylikebest?

Iamnotsure,however,thatMr.Huntingdonwouldhavetakenme,ifhehadbeenatlibertytomakehisownselection. It isquitepossiblehemighthavechosenMissWilmot; for she seemed bent upon engrossing his attention toherself, and he seemed nothing loth to pay the homage she demanded. Ithought so, at least, when I saw how they talked and laughed, and glancedacross the table, to the neglect and evident umbrage of their respectiveneighbours—andafterwards,asthegentlemenjoinedusinthedrawing-room,when she, immediately upon his entrance, loudly called upon him to be thearbiter of a dispute between herself and another lady, and he answered thesummons with alacrity, and decided the question without a moment’shesitation in her favour—though, tomy thinking, she was obviously in thewrong—and then stood chatting familiarly with her and a group of otherladies; while I sat withMilicentHargrave at the opposite end of the room,lookingoverthelatter’sdrawings,andaidingherwithmycriticalobservationsand advice, at her particular desire. But in spite of my efforts to remaincomposed,myattentionwanderedfromthedrawingstothemerrygroup,andagainst my better judgment my wrath rose, and doubtless my countenancelowered; for Milicent, observing that I must be tired of her daubs andscratches,beggedIwouldjointhecompanynow,anddefertheexaminationoftheremaindertoanotheropportunity.ButwhileIwasassuringherthatIhadnowishtojointhem,andwasnottired,Mr.Huntingdonhimselfcameuptothelittleroundtableatwhichwesat.

‘Aretheseyours?’saidhe,carelesslytakinguponeofthedrawings.

‘No,theyareMissHargrave’s.’

‘Oh!well,let’shavealookatthem.’

And, regardless of Miss Hargrave’s protestations that they were not worthlookingat,hedrewachairtomyside,andreceivingthedrawings,onebyonefrommyhand,successivelyscannedthemover,andthrewthemonthetable,but saidnotawordabout them, thoughhewas talkingall the time. Idon’tknow what Milicent Hargrave thought of such conduct, but I found his

conversationextremelyinteresting;though,asIafterwardsdiscovered,whenIcametoanalyseit, itwaschieflyconfinedtoquizzingthedifferentmembersof thecompanypresent; andalbeithemade someclever remarks, and someexcessivelydrollones, Idonot think thewholewouldappearanythingveryparticular,ifwrittenhere,withouttheadventitiousaidsoflook,andtone,andgesture,andthatineffablebutindefinitecharm,whichcastahalooverallhedidandsaid,andwhichwouldhavemadeitadelighttolookinhisface,andhear themusic of his voice, if he had been talking positive nonsense—andwhich,moreover,mademefeelsobitteragainstmyauntwhensheputastoptothisenjoyment,bycomingcomposedlyforward,underpretenceofwishingtoseethedrawings,thatshecaredandknewnothingabout,andwhilemakingbelieve toexamine them,addressingherself toMr.Huntingdon,withoneofher coldest and most repellent aspects, and beginning a series of the mostcommon-placeandformidablyformalquestionsandobservations,onpurposeto wrest his attention from me—on purpose to vex me, as I thought: andhavingnow looked through theportfolio, I left them to their tête-à-tête,andseatedmyselfonasofa,quiteapart fromthecompany—never thinkinghowstrangesuchconductwouldappear,butmerelytoindulge,atfirst,thevexationofthemoment,andsubsequentlytoenjoymyprivatethoughts.

ButIwasnot left longalone,forMr.Wilmot,ofallmenthe leastwelcome,tookadvantageofmyisolatedpositiontocomeandplanthimselfbesideme.Ihad flattered myself that I had so effectually repulsed his advances on allformeroccasions, thatIhadnothingmoretoapprehendfromhisunfortunatepredilection;butitseemsIwasmistaken:sogreatwashisconfidence,eitherinhiswealthorhisremainingpowersofattraction,andsofirmhisconvictionoffeminineweakness,thathethoughthimselfwarrantedtoreturntothesiege,whichhedidwithrenovatedardour,enkindledbythequantityofwinehehaddrunk—acircumstance that renderedhim infinitely themoredisgusting; butgreatly as I abhorred him at that moment, I did not like to treat him withrudeness,asIwasnowhisguest,andhad justbeenenjoyinghishospitality;and I was no hand at a polite but determined rejection, nor would it havegreatlyavailedmeifIhad,forhewastoocoarse-mindedtotakeanyrepulsethatwas not as plain and positive as his own effrontery. The consequencewas,thathewaxedmorefulsomelytender,andmorerepulsivelywarm,andIwasdriventotheveryvergeofdesperation,andabouttosayIknownotwhat,when I feltmyhand, thathungover thearmof the sofa, suddenly takenbyanotherandgentlybutferventlypressed.Instinctively,Iguessedwhoitwas,and,on lookingup,was lesssurprised thandelighted toseeMr.Huntingdonsmilinguponme.Itwasliketurningfromsomepurgatorialfiendtoanangeloflight,cometoannouncethattheseasonoftormentwaspast.

‘Helen,’ said he (he frequently called me Helen, and I never resented the

freedom),‘Iwantyouto lookat thispicture. Mr.Wilmotwillexcuseyouamoment,I’msure.’

Irosewithalacrity.Hedrewmyarmwithinhis,andledmeacrosstheroomto a splendid painting of Vandyke’s that I had noticed before, but notsufficiently examined. After a moment of silent contemplation, I wasbeginning to comment on its beauties and peculiarities, when, playfullypressing the hand he still retained within his arm, he interrupted me with,—‘Nevermindthepicture:itwasnotforthatIbroughtyouhere;itwastogetyouawayfromthatscoundrellyoldprofligateyonder,whoislookingasifhewouldliketochallengemefortheaffront.’

‘Iamverymuchobligedtoyou,’saidI.‘Thisistwiceyouhavedeliveredmefromsuchunpleasantcompanionship.’

‘Don’tbetoothankful,’heanswered:‘itisnotallkindnesstoyou;itispartlyfromafeelingofspite toyourtormentors thatmakesmedelightedtodotheoldfellowsabadturn, thoughIdon’t thinkIhaveanygreatreasontodreadthemasrivals.HaveI,Helen?’

‘YouknowIdetestthemboth.’

‘Andme?’

‘Ihavenoreasontodetestyou.’

‘But what are your sentiments towards me? Helen—Speak! How do youregardme?’

And again he pressed my hand; but I feared there was more of consciouspowerthantendernessinhisdemeanour,andIfelthehadnorighttoextortaconfession of attachment from me when he had made no correspondentavowalhimself,andknewnotwhattoanswer.AtlastIsaid,—‘Howdoyouregardme?’

‘Sweetangel,Iadoreyou!I—’

‘Helen,Iwantyouamoment,’said thedistinct, lowvoiceofmyaunt,closebesideus.AndIlefthim,mutteringmaledictionsagainsthisevilangel.

‘Well, aunt, what is it? What do you want?’ said I, following her to theembrasureofthewindow.

‘Iwantyou to join thecompany,whenyouare fit tobeseen,’ returnedshe,severelyregardingme;‘butpleasetostayherealittle,tillthatshockingcolourissomewhatabated,andyoureyeshaverecoveredsomethingoftheirnaturalexpression.Ishouldbeashamedforanyonetoseeyouinyourpresentstate.’

Ofcourse,sucharemarkhadnoeffectinreducingthe‘shockingcolour’;on

the contrary, I felt my face glow with redoubled fires kindled by acomplicationofemotions,ofwhichindignant,swellingangerwasthechief.Ioffered no reply, however, but pushed aside the curtain and looked into thenight—orratherintothelamp-litsquare.

‘WasMr. Huntingdon proposing to you, Helen?’ inquired my too watchfulrelative.

‘No.’

‘Whatwashesayingthen?Iheardsomethingverylikeit.’

‘Idon’tknowwhathewouldhavesaid,ifyouhadn’tinterruptedhim.’

‘Andwouldyouhaveacceptedhim,Helen,ifhehadproposed?’

‘Ofcoursenot—withoutconsultinguncleandyou.’

‘Oh! I’mglad,mydear, you have somuchprudence left. Well, now,’ sheadded,afteramoment’spause,‘youhavemadeyourselfconspicuousenoughforoneevening.Theladiesaredirectinginquiringglancestowardsusatthismoment,Isee:Ishalljointhem.Doyoucometoo,whenyouaresufficientlycomposedtoappearasusual.’

‘Iamsonow.’

‘Speakgentlythen,anddon’tlooksomalicious,’saidmycalm,butprovokingaunt. ‘We shall return home shortly, and then,’ she added with solemnsignificance,‘Ihavemuchtosaytoyou.’

SoIwenthomeprepared fora formidable lecture. Littlewassaidbyeitherparty in the carriage during our short transit homewards; but when I hadenteredmyroomandthrownmyselfintoaneasy-chair,toreflectontheeventsof theday,myaunt followedme thither, andhavingdismissedRachel,whowas carefully stowing away my ornaments, closed the door; and placing achair beside me, or rather at right angles with mine, sat down. With duedeferenceIofferedhermymorecommodiousseat.Shedeclinedit,andthusopenedtheconference:‘Doyouremember,Helen,ourconversationthenightbutonebeforeweleftStaningley?’

‘Yes,aunt.’

‘AnddoyourememberhowIwarnedyouagainstlettingyourheartbestolenfrom you by those unworthy of its possession, and fixing your affectionswhereapprobationdidnotgobefore,andwherereasonandjudgmentwithheldtheirsanction?’

‘Yes;butmyreason—’

‘Pardonme—anddoyou remember assuringme that therewasnooccasionforuneasinessonyouraccount; foryoushouldneverbe tempted tomarryamanwhowasdeficientinsenseorprinciple,howeverhandsomeorcharminginotherrespectshemightbe,foryoucouldnotlovehim;youshouldhate—despise—pity—anythingbutlovehim—werenotthoseyourwords?’

‘Yes;but—’

‘Anddidyounotsaythatyouraffectionmustbefoundedonapprobation;andthat,unlessyoucouldapproveandhonourandrespect,youcouldnotlove?’

‘Yes;butIdoapprove,andhonour,andrespect—’

‘Howso,mydear?IsMr.Huntingdonagoodman?’

‘Heisamuchbettermanthanyouthinkhim.’

‘Thatisnothingtothepurpose.Isheagoodman?’

‘Yes—insomerespects.Hehasagooddisposition.’

‘Isheamanofprinciple?’

‘Perhapsnot,exactly;butitisonlyforwantofthought.Ifhehadsomeonetoadvisehim,andremindhimofwhatisright—’

‘Hewouldsoonlearn,youthink—andyouyourselfwouldwillinglyundertaketobehisteacher?But,mydear,heis,Ibelieve,fulltenyearsolderthanyou—howisitthatyouaresobeforehandinmoralacquirements?’

‘Thanks to you, aunt, I have beenwell brought up, and had good examplesalways before me, which he, most likely, has not; and, besides, he is of asanguine temperament, and a gay, thoughtless temper, and I am naturallyinclinedtoreflection.’

‘Well,nowyouhavemadehimouttobedeficientinbothsenseandprinciple,byyourownconfession—’

‘Then,mysenseandmyprincipleareathisservice.’

‘Thatsoundspresumptuous,Helen.Doyouthinkyouhaveenoughforboth;anddoyouimagineyourmerry,thoughtlessprofligatewouldallowhimselftobeguidedbyayounggirllikeyou?’

‘No; I should not wish to guide him; but I think I might have influencesufficienttosavehimfromsomeerrors,andIshouldthinkmylifewellspentintheefforttopreservesonobleanaturefromdestruction.HealwayslistensattentivelynowwhenIspeakseriouslytohim(andIoftenventuretoreprovehisrandomwayoftalking),andsometimeshesaysthatifhehadmealwaysbyhissideheshouldneverdoorsayawickedthing,andthatalittledailytalk

with me would make him quite a saint. It may he partly jest and partlyflattery,butstill—’

‘Butstillyouthinkitmaybetruth?’

‘IfIdothinkthereisanymixtureoftruthinit,itisnotfromconfidenceinmyownpowers,butinhisnaturalgoodness.Andyouhavenorighttocallhimaprofligate,aunt;heisnothingofthekind.’

‘Who told you so,my dear? Whatwas that story about his intriguewith amarried lady—Ladywhowas it?—MissWilmot herselfwas telling you theotherday?’

‘Itwasfalse—false!’Icried.‘Idon’tbelieveawordofit.’

‘Youthink,then,thatheisavirtuous,well-conductedyoungman?’

‘I know nothing positive respecting his character. I only know that I haveheardnothingdefiniteagainst it—nothing thatcouldbeproved,at least;andtill people can prove their slanderous accusations, I will not believe them.And I know this, that if he has committed errors, they are only such as arecommon to youth, and such as nobody thinks anything about; for I see thateverybodylikeshim,andallthemammassmileuponhim,andtheirdaughters—andMissWilmotherself—areonlytoogladtoattracthisattention.’

‘Helen,theworldmaylookuponsuchoffencesasvenial;afewunprincipledmothersmaybeanxioustocatchayoungmanoffortunewithoutreferencetohis character; and thoughtless girls may be glad to win the smiles of sohandsomeagentleman,withoutseeking topenetratebeyond thesurface;butyou,Itrusted,werebetterinformedthantoseewiththeireyes,andjudgewiththeirpervertedjudgment.Ididnotthinkyouwouldcallthesevenialerrors!’

‘NordoI,aunt;butifIhatethesins,Ilovethesinner,andwoulddomuchforhissalvation,evensupposingyoursuspicionstobemainlytrue,whichIdonotandwillnotbelieve.’

‘Well,mydear,askyourunclewhatsortofcompanyhekeeps,andifheisnotbandedwithasetofloose,profligateyoungmen,whomhecallshisfriends,his jolly companions, andwhose chief delight is towallow in vice, and viewitheachotherwhocanrunfastestandfurthestdowntheheadlongroadtotheplacepreparedforthedevilandhisangels.’

‘ThenIwillsavehimfromthem.’

‘Oh,Helen,Helen!youlittleknowthemiseryofunitingyourfortunestosuchaman!’

‘Ihavesuchconfidenceinhim,aunt,notwithstandingallyousay,thatIwould

willinglyriskmyhappinessforthechanceofsecuringhis.Iwillleavebettermentothosewhoonlyconsidertheirownadvantage.Ifhehasdoneamiss,Ishallconsidermylifewellspentinsavinghimfromtheconsequencesofhisearly errors, and striving to recall him to the path of virtue. God grantmesuccess!’

Heretheconversationended,foratthisjuncturemyuncle’svoicewasheardfromhischamber,loudlycallinguponmyaunttocometobed.Hewasinabad humour that night; for his gout was worse. It had been graduallyincreasinguponhimeversincewecametotown;andmyaunttookadvantageof the circumstance next morning to persuade him to return to the countryimmediately, without waiting for the close of the season. His physiciansupportedandenforcedherarguments;andcontrarytoherusualhabits,shesohurried the preparations for removal (asmuch formy sake asmyuncle’s, Ithink), that in a very few days we departed; and I saw no more of Mr.Huntingdon. My aunt flatters herself I shall soon forget him—perhaps shethinksIhaveforgottenhimalready,forInevermentionhisname;andshemaycontinuetothinkso,tillwemeetagain—ifeverthatshouldbe.Iwonderifitwill?

CHAPTERXVIII

August 25th.—I am now quite settled down to my usual routine of steadyoccupationsandquietamusements—tolerablycontentedandcheerful,butstilllooking forward to spring with the hope of returning to town, not for itsgaietiesanddissipations,butforthechanceofmeetingMr.Huntingdononceagain; for still he is always in my thoughts and in my dreams. In all myemployments,whateverIdo,orsee,orhear,hasanultimatereferencetohim;whatever skill or knowledge I acquire is some day to be turned to hisadvantageoramusement;whatevernewbeautiesinnatureorartIdiscoveraretobedepictedtomeethiseye,orstoredinmymemorytobetoldhimatsomefutureperiod.This,atleast,isthehopethatIcherish,thefancythatlightsmeonmylonelyway.Itmaybeonlyanignisfatuus,afterall,butitcandonoharmtofollowitwithmyeyesandrejoiceinitslustre,aslongasitdoesnotlure me from the path I ought to keep; and I think it will not, for I havethought deeply on my aunt’s advice, and I see clearly, now, the folly ofthrowingmyselfawayononethatisunworthyofalltheloveIhavetogive,and incapable of responding to the best and deepest feelings of my inmostheart—so clearly, that even if I should see him again, and if he shouldremembermeandlovemestill(which,alas!istoolittleprobable,consideringhow he is situated, and by whom surrounded), and if he should askme to

marryhim—IamdeterminednottoconsentuntilIknowforcertainwhethermyaunt’sopinionofhimormineisnearestthetruth;forifmineisaltogetherwrong,it isnothethatIlove;it isacreatureofmyownimagination. ButIthinkitisnotwrong—no,no—thereisasecretsomething—aninwardinstinctthat assuresme I am right. There is essential goodness in him;—andwhatdelighttounfoldit!Ifhehaswandered,whatblisstorecallhim!Ifheisnowexposedtothebanefulinfluenceofcorruptingandwickedcompanions,whatglory todeliverhimfromthem! Oh! if Icouldbutbelieve thatHeavenhasdesignedmeforthis!

To-dayisthefirstofSeptember;butmyunclehasorderedthegamekeepertosparethepartridgestillthegentlemencome.‘Whatgentlemen?’IaskedwhenIheardit.Asmallpartyhehadinvitedtoshoot.HisfriendMr.Wilmotwasone,andmyaunt’sfriend,Mr.Boarham,another. Thisstruckmeas terriblenews at themoment; but all regret and apprehension vanished like a dreamwhen I heard thatMr. Huntingdon was actually to be a third! My aunt isgreatlyagainsthiscoming,ofcourse: sheearnestlyendeavoured todissuademyunclefromaskinghim;buthe,laughingatherobjections,toldheritwasnousetalking,forthemischiefwasalreadydone:hehadinvitedHuntingdonand his friend Lord Lowborough before we left London, and nothing nowremainedbuttofixthedayfortheircoming.Soheissafe,andIamsureofseeinghim.Icannotexpressmyjoy.Ifinditverydifficulttoconcealitfrommyaunt;butIdon’twishtotroubleherwithmyfeelingstillIknowwhetherIoughttoindulgethemornot.IfIfinditmyabsolutedutytosuppressthem,theyshalltroublenoonebutmyself;andifIcanreallyfeelmyselfjustifiedinindulgingthisattachment,Icandareanything,eventheangerandgriefofmybestfriend,foritsobject—surely,Ishallsoonknow.Buttheyarenotcomingtillaboutthemiddleofthemonth.

Wearetohavetwoladyvisitorsalso:Mr.WilmotistobringhisnieceandhercousinMilicent. I supposemyaunt thinks the latterwill benefitmebyhersociety, and the salutary example of her gentle deportment and lowly andtractablespirit;and the former I suspectshe intendsasaspeciesofcounter-attraction towinMr.Huntingdon’sattention fromme. Idon’t thankher forthis;butIshallbegladofMilicent’scompany:sheisasweet,goodgirl,andIwishIwerelikeher—morelikeher,atleast,thanIam.

19th.—Theyarecome.Theycamethedaybeforeyesterday.Thegentlemenare all gone out to shoot, and the ladies are with my aunt, at work in thedrawing-room.Ihaveretiredtothelibrary,forIamveryunhappy,andIwanttobe alone. Books cannotdivertme; sohavingopenedmydesk, Iwill trywhatmaybedonebydetailing thecauseofmyuneasiness. Thispaperwillserve instead of a confidential friend intowhose ear Imight pour forth theoverflowingsofmyheart.Itwillnotsympathisewithmydistresses,butthen

itwillnot laughat them,and, if Ikeep itclose, itcannot tellagain;so it is,perhaps,thebestfriendIcouldhaveforthepurpose.

First, letmespeakofhisarrival—howIsatatmywindow,andwatchedfornearlytwohours,beforehiscarriageenteredthepark-gates—fortheyallcamebeforehim,—andhowdeeplyIwasdisappointedateveryarrival,because itwasnothis. FirstcameMr.Wilmotand the ladies. WhenMilicenthadgotintoherroom,Iquittedmypostafewminutestolookinuponherandhavealittleprivate conversation, for shewasnowmy intimate friend, several longepistles having passed between us since our parting. On returning to mywindow, I beheld another carriage at the door. Was it his? No; itwasMr.Boarham’s plain dark chariot; and there stood he upon the steps, carefullysuperintending the dislodging of his various boxes and packages. What acollection! One would have thought he projected a visit of six months atleast.Aconsiderabletimeafter,cameLordLowboroughinhisbarouche.Isheoneoftheprofligatefriends,Iwonder?Ishouldthinknot;fornoonecouldcallhimajollycompanion,I’msure,—and,besides,heappearstoosoberandgentlemanly in his demeanour to merit such suspicions. He is a tall, thin,gloomy-lookingman,apparentlybetweenthirtyandforty,andofasomewhatsickly,carewornaspect.

Atlast,Mr.Huntingdon’slightphaetoncamebowlingmerrilyupthelawn.Ihadbutatransientglimpseofhim:forthemomentitstopped,hesprangoutoverthesideontotheporticosteps,anddisappearedintothehouse.

I now submitted to be dressed for dinner—a duty which Rachel had beenurginguponmeforthelasttwentyminutes;andwhenthatimportantbusinesswascompleted,Irepairedto thedrawing-room,whereIfoundMr.andMissWilmot and Milicent Hargrave already assembled. Shortly after, LordLowborough entered, and then Mr. Boarham, who seemed quite willing toforgetandforgivemyformerconduct,andtohopethatalittleconciliationandsteadyperseveranceonhispartmightyetsucceedinbringingmetoreason.WhileIstoodatthewindow,conversingwithMilicent,hecameuptome,andwasbeginningtotalkinnearlyhisusualstrain,whenMr.Huntingdonenteredtheroom.

‘Howwill he greetme, Iwonder?’ saidmy bounding heart; and, instead ofadvancingtomeethim,Iturnedtothewindowtohideorsubduemyemotion.Buthavingsalutedhishostandhostess,andtherestofthecompany,hecametome,ardentlysqueezedmyhand,andmurmuredhewasgladtoseemeonceagain. At thatmomentdinnerwas announced:myauntdesiredhim to takeMiss Hargrave into the dining-room, and odious Mr. Wilmot, withunspeakable grimaces, offered his arm to me; and I was condemned to sitbetweenhimselfandMr.Boarham. Butafterwards,whenwewereallagain

assembledinthedrawing-room,IwasindemnifiedforsomuchsufferingbyafewdelightfulminutesofconversationwithMr.Huntingdon.

Inthecourseoftheevening,MissWilmotwascalledupontosingandplayfortheamusementofthecompany,andItoexhibitmydrawings,and,thoughhelikes music, and she is an accomplished musician, I think I am right inaffirming,thathepaidmoreattentiontomydrawingsthantohermusic.

So far so good;—but hearing him pronounce, sotto voce, but with peculiaremphasis,concerningoneofthepieces,‘Thisisbetterthanall!’—Ilookedup,curious to see which it was, and, to my horror, beheld him complacentlygazing at the back of the picture:—itwas his own face that I had sketchedthereand forgotten to rubout! Tomakemattersworse, in the agonyof themoment, I attempted to snatch it from his hand; but he prevented me, andexclaiming,‘No—byGeorge,I’llkeepit!’placeditagainsthiswaistcoatandbuttonedhiscoatuponitwithadelightedchuckle.

Then, drawing a candle close to his elbow, he gathered all the drawings tohimself,aswellwhathehadseenastheothers,andmuttering,‘Imustlookatbothsidesnow,’heeagerlycommencedanexamination,whichIwatched,atfirst,withtolerablecomposure,intheconfidencethathisvanitywouldnotbegratifiedbyanyfurtherdiscoveries;for,thoughImustpleadguiltytohavingdisfigured the backs of several with abortive attempts to delineate that toofascinatingphysiognomy,Iwassurethat,withthatoneunfortunateexception,Ihadcarefullyobliteratedallsuchwitnessesofmyinfatuation.Butthepencilfrequentlyleavesanimpressionuponcardboardthatnoamountofrubbingcanefface. Such, it seems, was the case with most of these; and, I confess, ItrembledwhenIsawhimholdingthemsoclosetothecandle,andporingsointentlyover theseemingblanks;butstill, I trusted,hewouldnotbeable tomakeoutthesedimtracestohisownsatisfaction.Iwasmistaken,however.Having ended his scrutiny, he quietly remarked,—‘I perceive the backs ofyoung ladies’ drawings, like the postscripts of their letters, are the mostimportantandinterestingpartoftheconcern.’

Then, leaning back in his chair, he reflected a few minutes in silence,complacently smiling to himself, and while I was concocting some cuttingspeech wherewith to check his gratification, he rose, and passing over towhereAnnabellaWilmot satvehementlycoquettingwithLordLowborough,seatedhimselfonthesofabesideher,andattachedhimselftoherfortherestoftheevening.

‘Sothen,’thoughtI,‘hedespisesme,becauseheknowsIlovehim.’

And the reflectionmademe somiserable I knew notwhat to do. Milicentcameandbegantoadmiremydrawings,andmakeremarksuponthem;butI

couldnottalktoher—Icouldtalktonoone,and,upontheintroductionoftea,I took advantage of the open door and the slight diversion caused by itsentrancetoslipout—forIwassureIcouldnottakeany—andtakerefugeinthelibrary.MyauntsentThomasinquestofme,toaskifIwerenotcomingtotea;butIbadehimsayIshouldnottakeanyto-night,and,happily,shewastoomuchoccupiedwithhergueststomakeanyfurtherinquiriesatthetime.

Asmostof thecompanyhadtravelledfar thatday, theyretiredearly torest;andhavingheardthemall,asIthought,goup-stairs,Iventuredout,togetmycandlestick from the drawing-room sideboard. But Mr. Huntingdon hadlingeredbehindtherest. Hewasjustat thefootofthestairswhenIopenedthedoor,andhearingmystepinthehall—thoughIcouldhardlyhearitmyself—heinstantlyturnedback.

‘Helen,isthatyou?’saidhe.‘Whydidyourunawayfromus?’

‘Good-night, Mr. Huntingdon,’ said I, coldly, not choosing to answer thequestion.AndIturnedawaytoenterthedrawing-room.

‘Butyou’llshakehands,won’tyou?’saidhe,placinghimselfinthedoorwaybeforeme.Andheseizedmyhandandheldit,muchagainstmywill.

‘Letmego,Mr.Huntingdon,’saidI.‘Iwanttogetacandle.’

‘Thecandlewillkeep,’returnedhe.

Imadeadesperateefforttofreemyhandfromhisgrasp.

‘Whyareyouinsuchahurrytoleaveme,Helen?’hesaid,withasmileofthemostprovokingself-sufficiency.‘Youdon’thateme,youknow.’

‘Yes,Ido—atthismoment.’

‘Notyou.ItisAnnabellaWilmotyouhate,notme.’

‘I have nothing to do with Annabella Wilmot,’ said I, burning withindignation.

‘ButIhave,youknow,’returnedhe,withpeculiaremphasis.

‘Thatisnothingtome,sir,’Iretorted.

‘Isitnothingtoyou,Helen?Willyouswearit?Willyou?’

‘NoIwon’t,Mr.Huntingdon!andIwillgo,’criedI,notknowingwhethertolaugh,ortocry,ortobreakoutintoatempestoffury.

‘Go,then,youvixen!’hesaid;buttheinstanthereleasedmyhandhehadtheaudacitytoputhisarmroundmyneck,andkissme.

Tremblingwithangerandagitation, and Idon’tknowwhatbesides, Ibroke

away, and gotmy candle, and rushed up-stairs tomy room. Hewould nothave done so but for that hateful picture. And there he had it still in hispossession,aneternalmonumenttohisprideandmyhumiliation.

ItwasbutlittlesleepIgotthatnight,andinthemorningIroseperplexedandtroubledwiththethoughtsofmeetinghimatbreakfast.Iknewnothowitwastobedone. Anassumptionofdignified, cold indifferencewouldhardlydo,afterwhatheknewofmydevotion—tohisface,atleast.Yetsomethingmustbedonetocheckhispresumption—Iwouldnotsubmittobetyrannisedoverby those bright, laughing eyes. And, accordingly, I received his cheerfulmorning salutationascalmlyandcoldlyasmyauntcouldhavewished, anddefeated with brief answers his one or two attempts to draw me intoconversation, while I comported myself with unusual cheerfulness andcomplaisancetowardseveryothermemberoftheparty,especiallyAnnabellaWilmot, and even her uncle and Mr. Boarham were treated with an extraamountofcivilityontheoccasion,notfromanymotivesofcoquetry,butjusttoshowhimthatmyparticularcoolnessandreservearosefromnogeneralill-humourordepressionofspirits.

Hewasnot,however, tobe repelledbysuchactingas this. Hedidnot talkmuch to me, but when he did speak it was with a degree of freedom andopenness, and kindliness too, that plainly seemed to intimate he knew hiswordsweremusic tomy ears; andwhen his looksmetmine it waswith asmile—presumptuous,itmightbe—butoh!sosweet,sobright,sogenial,thatIcouldnotpossiblyretainmyanger;everyvestigeofdispleasuresoonmeltedawaybeneathitlikemorningcloudsbeforethesummersun.

Soonafterbreakfastallthegentlemensaveone,withboyisheagerness,setouton theirexpeditionagainst thehaplesspartridges;myuncleandMr.Wilmotontheirshootingponies,Mr.HuntingdonandLordLowboroughontheirlegs:theoneexceptionbeingMr.Boarham,who, inconsiderationof the rain thathadfallenduringthenight,thoughtitprudenttoremainbehindalittleandjointheminawhilewhenthesunhaddriedthegrass.Andhefavouredusallwitha long and minute disquisition upon the evils and dangers attendant upondampfeet,deliveredwiththemost imperturbablegravity,amidthejeersandlaughterofMr.Huntingdonandmyuncle,who,leavingtheprudentsportsmanto entertain the ladies with his medical discussions, sallied forth with theirguns,bendingtheirstepstothestablesfirst,tohavealookatthehorsesandletoutthedogs.

NotdesirousofsharingMr.Boarham’scompanyforthewholeofthemorning,Ibetookmyselftothelibrary,andtherebroughtforthmyeaselandbegantopaint. The easel and the painting apparatus would serve as an excuse forabandoning the drawing-room if my aunt should come to complain of the

desertion,andbesidesIwanted tofinish thepicture. ItwasoneIhad takengreat pains with, and I intended it to be my masterpiece, though it wassomewhatpresumptuousinthedesign.Bythebrightazureofthesky,andbythewarm and brilliant lights and deep long shadows, I had endeavoured toconveytheideaofasunnymorning.Ihadventuredtogivemoreofthebrightverdureofspringorearlysummertothegrassandfoliagethaniscommonlyattemptedinpainting.Thescenerepresentedwasanopengladeinawood.AgroupofdarkScotchfirswasintroducedinthemiddledistancetorelievetheprevailingfreshnessoftherest;butintheforegroundwaspartofthegnarledtrunkandofthespreadingboughsofalargeforest-tree,whosefoliagewasofabrilliantgoldengreen—notgoldenfromautumnalmellowness,butfromthesunshineand thevery immaturityof the scarceexpanded leaves. Upon thisbough, that stood out in bold relief against the sombre firs, were seated anamorous pair of turtle doves, whose soft sad-coloured plumage afforded acontrast of another nature; and beneath it a young girlwas kneeling on thedaisy-spangledturf,withheadthrownbackandmassesoffairhairfallingonhershoulders,herhandsclasped,lipsparted,andeyesintentlygazingupwardin pleased yet earnest contemplation of those feathered lovers—too deeplyabsorbedineachothertonoticeher.

Ihadscarcelysettledtomywork,which,however,wantedbutafewtouchestothefinishing,whenthesportsmenpassedthewindowontheirreturnfromthestables.Itwaspartlyopen,andMr.Huntingdonmusthaveseenmeashewent by, for in half aminute he cameback, and setting his gun against thewall,threwupthesashandsprangin,andsethimselfbeforemypicture.

‘Verypretty, i’faith,’saidhe,afterattentivelyregardingit forafewseconds;‘andaveryfittingstudyforayounglady.Springjustopeningintosummer—morningjustapproachingnoon—girlhoodjustripeningintowomanhood,andhope just verging on fruition. She’s a sweet creature! but why didn’t youmakeherblackhair?’

‘Ithoughtlighthairwouldsuitherbetter.YouseeIhavemadeherblue-eyedandplump,andfairandrosy.’

‘Uponmyword—averyHebe! Ishouldfall in lovewithher ifIhadn’t theartistbeforeme.Sweetinnocent!she’sthinkingtherewillcomeatimewhenshewillbewooedandwonlikethatprettyhen-dovebyasfondandferventalover;andshe’sthinkinghowpleasantitwillbe,andhowtenderandfaithfulhewillfindher.’

‘Andperhaps,’suggestedI,‘howtenderandfaithfulsheshallfindhim.’

‘Perhaps,forthereisnolimittothewildextravaganceofHope’simaginingsatsuchanage.’

‘Doyoucallthat,then,oneofherwild,extravagantdelusions?’

‘No;myhearttellsmeitisnot.Imighthavethoughtsoonce,butnow,Isay,givemethegirlIlove,andIwillsweareternalconstancytoherandheralone,throughsummerandwinter,throughyouthandage,andlifeanddeath!ifageanddeathmustcome.’

Hespokethisinsuchseriousearnestthatmyheartboundedwithdelight;buttheminuteafterhechangedhistone,andasked,withasignificantsmile,ifIhad‘anymoreportraits.’

‘No,’repliedI,reddeningwithconfusionandwrath.

But my portfolio was on the table: he took it up, and coolly sat down toexamineitscontents.

‘Mr.Huntingdon, thosearemyunfinishedsketches,’criedI, ‘andInever letanyoneseethem.’

AndIplacedmyhandontheportfoliotowrestitfromhim,buthemaintainedhishold,assuringmethathe‘likedunfinishedsketchesofallthings.’

‘ButIhatethemtobeseen,’returnedI.‘Ican’tletyouhaveit,indeed!’

‘Letmehave its bowels then,’ said he; and just as Iwrenched the portfoliofromhishand,hedeftly abstracted thegreaterpartof its contents, andafterturning themoveramomenthecriedout,—‘Blessmystars,here’sanother;’andslippedasmallovalofivorypaperintohiswaistcoatpocket—acompleteminiature portrait that I had sketched with such tolerable success as to beinducedtocolouritwithgreatpainsandcare.ButIwasdeterminedheshouldnotkeepit.

‘Mr.Huntingdon,’criedI,‘Iinsistuponhavingthatback!Itismine,andyouhave no right to take it. Give itme directly—I’ll never forgive you if youdon’t!’

ButthemorevehementlyIinsisted,themoreheaggravatedmydistressbyhisinsulting, gleeful laugh. At length, however, he restored it to me, saying,—‘Well,well,sinceyouvalueitsomuch,I’llnotdepriveyouofit.’

ToshowhimhowIvaluedit,Itoreitintwoandthrewitintothefire.Hewasnot prepared for this. His merriment suddenly ceasing, he stared in muteamazementattheconsumingtreasure;andthen,withacareless‘Humph!I’llgo and shoot now,’ he turned on his heel and vacated the apartment by thewindowashecame, and settingonhishatwithanair, tookuphisgunandwalkedaway,whistlingashewent—andleavingmenottoomuchagitatedtofinishmypicture,forIwasglad,atthemoment,thatIhadvexedhim.

WhenIreturnedto thedrawing-room,IfoundMr.Boarhamhadventuredtofollowhiscomradestothefield;andshortlyafterlunch,towhichtheydidnotthinkofreturning,Ivolunteeredtoaccompanytheladiesinawalk,andshowAnnabellaandMilicent thebeautiesof thecountry. Wetooka longramble,and re-entered the park just as the sportsmen were returning from theirexpedition.Toil-spentandtravel-stained,themainbodyofthemcrossedoverthe grass to avoid us, butMr.Huntingdon, all spattered and splashed as hewas, and stainedwith thebloodofhisprey—to theno small offenceofmyaunt’sstrictsenseofpropriety—cameoutofhiswaytomeetus,withcheerfulsmiles and words for all but me, and placing himself between AnnabellaWilmot and myself, walked up the road and began to relate the variousexploitsanddisastersof theday, inamanner thatwouldhaveconvulsedmewithlaughterifIhadbeenongoodtermswithhim;butheaddressedhimselfentirelytoAnnabella,andI,ofcourse,leftallthelaughterandallthebadinagetoher,andaffectingtheutmostindifferencetowhateverpassedbetweenthem,walkedalongafewpacesapart,andlookingeverywaybut theirs,whilemyaunt and Milicent went before, linked arm in arm and gravely discoursingtogether. At lengthMr. Huntingdon turned to me, and addressingme in aconfidentialwhisper,said,—‘Helen,whydidyouburnmypicture?’

‘BecauseIwishedtodestroyit,’Ianswered,withanasperityitisuselessnowtolament.

‘Oh, very good!’ was the reply; ‘if you don’t value me, I must turn tosomebodythatwill.’

Ithoughtitwaspartlyinjest—ahalf-playfulmixtureofmockresignationandpretended indifference: but immediately he resumed his place beside MissWilmot,andfromthathour to this—duringall thatevening,andall thenextday,andthenext,andthenext,andallthismorning(the22nd),hehasnevergivenmeonekindwordoronepleasantlook—neverspokentome,butfrompurenecessity—neverglancedtowardsmebutwithacold,unfriendlylookIthoughthimquiteincapableofassuming.

Myaunt observes the change, and though shehas not inquired the cause ormade any remark to me on the subject, I see it gives her pleasure. MissWilmot observes it, too, and triumphantly ascribes it to her own superiorcharmsandblandishments;but Iam trulymiserable—moreso than I like toacknowledgetomyself. Priderefusestoaidme. Ithasbroughtmeintothescrape,andwillnothelpmeoutofit.

He meant no harm—it was only his joyous, playful spirit; and I, by myacrimoniousresentment—soserious,sodisproportionedtotheoffence—haveso wounded his feelings, so deeply offended him, that I fear he will neverforgiveme—and all for amere jest! He thinks I dislike him, and hemust

continuetothinkso. Imustlosehimforever,andAnnabellamaywinhim,andtriumphasshewill.

ButitisnotmylossnorhertriumphthatIdeploresogreatlyasthewreckofmyfondhopesforhisadvantage,andherunworthinessofhisaffection,andthe injuryhewilldohimselfby trustinghishappiness toher. Shedoesnotlovehim:shethinksonlyofherself.Shecannotappreciatethegoodthatisinhim: she will neither see it, nor value it, nor cherish it. She will neitherdeplorehisfaultsnorattempttheiramendment,butratheraggravatethembyherown.AndIdoubtwhethershewillnotdeceivehimafterall.Iseesheisplaying double between him and Lord Lowborough, and while she amusesherselfwiththelivelyHuntingdon,shetriesherutmosttoenslavehismoodyfriend; and should she succeed in bringing both to her feet, the fascinatingcommonerwillhavebut littlechanceagainst the lordlypeer. Ifheobservesherartfulby-play,itgiveshimnouneasiness,butratheraddsnewzesttohisdiversionbyopposingastimulatingchecktohisotherwisetooeasyconquest.

Messrs.WilmotandBoarhamhaveseverallytakenoccasionbyhisneglectofme to renew their advances; and if Iwere likeAnnabella and someothers Ishouldtakeadvantageoftheirperseverancetoendeavourtopiquehimintoarevivalofaffection;but,justiceandhonestyapart,Icouldnotbeartodoit.Iamannoyedenoughby theirpresentpersecutionswithout encouraging themfurther;andevenifIdiditwouldhavepreciouslittleeffectuponhim.Heseesmesufferingunderthecondescendingattentionsandprosaicdiscoursesoftheone,andtherepulsiveobtrusionsoftheother,withoutsomuchasashadowofcommiserationforme,orresentmentagainstmytormentors.Henevercouldhavelovedme,orhewouldnothaveresignedmesowillingly,andhewouldnot goon talking to everybody else so cheerfully as hedoes—laughing andjestingwithLordLowboroughandmyuncle,teasingMilicentHargrave,andflirtingwithAnnabellaWilmot—as if nothingwere on hismind. Oh!whycan’tIhatehim?Imustbeinfatuated,orIshouldscorntoregrethimasIdo.ButImustrallyallthepowersIhaveremaining,andtrytotearhimfrommyheart. There goes the dinner-bell, and here comesmy aunt to scoldme forsittinghereatmydeskallday,insteadofstayingwiththecompany:wishthecompanywere—gone.

CHAPTERXIX

TwentySecond:Night.—WhathaveIdone?andwhatwillbetheendofit?Icannotcalmlyreflectuponit;Icannotsleep.Imusthaverecoursetomydiaryagain; Iwill commit it topaper to-night, and seewhat I shall thinkof it to-

morrow.

Iwentdowntodinnerresolvingtobecheerfulandwell-conducted,andkeptmy resolution very creditably, considering how my head ached and howinternallywretchedIfelt.Idon’tknowwhatiscomeovermeoflate;myveryenergies,bothmentalandphysical,mustbestrangelyimpaired,orIshouldnothave acted soweakly inmany respects as I havedone; but I havenot beenwellthislastdayortwo.Isupposeitiswithsleepingandeatingsolittle,andthinkingsomuch,andbeingsocontinuallyoutofhumour. But to return. Iwasexertingmyselftosingandplayfortheamusement,andattherequest,ofmy aunt and Milicent, before the gentlemen came into the drawing-room(MissWilmotneverlikestowastehermusicaleffortsonladies’earsalone).MilicenthadaskedforalittleScotchsong,andIwasjustinthemiddleofitwhen they entered. The first thingMr. Huntingdon did was to walk up toAnnabella.

‘Now,MissWilmot,won’tyougiveus somemusic to-night?’ saidhe. ‘Donow! I know you will, when I tell you that I have been hungering andthirstingalldayforthesoundofyourvoice.Come!thepiano’svacant.’

Itwas,forIhadquitteditimmediatelyuponhearinghispetition.HadIbeenendowedwithaproperdegreeofself-possession,Ishouldhaveturnedtotheladymyself,andcheerfullyjoinedmyentreatiestohis,wherebyIshouldhavedisappointedhisexpectations,iftheaffronthadbeenpurposelygiven,ormadehimsensibleofthewrong,ifithadonlyarisenfromthoughtlessness;butIfeltit toodeeply todoanythingbutrisefromthemusic-stool,and throwmyselfback on the sofa, suppressing with difficulty the audible expression of thebitterness I feltwithin. IknewAnnabella’smusical talentsweresuperior tomine,but thatwasnoreasonwhyIshouldbetreatedasaperfectnonentity.Thetimeandthemannerofhisaskingherappearedlikeagratuitousinsulttome;andIcouldhaveweptwithpurevexation.

Meantime, sheexultinglyseatedherselfat thepiano,and favouredhimwithtwo of his favourite songs, in such superior style that even I soon lost myangerinadmiration,andlistenedwithasortofgloomypleasuretotheskilfulmodulationsofherfull-tonedandpowerfulvoice,sojudiciouslyaidedbyherrounded and spirited touch; andwhilemyears drank in the sound,myeyesrested on the face of her principal auditor, and derived an equal or superiordelight from the contemplation of his speaking countenance, as he stoodbeside her—that eye and brow lighted up with keen enthusiasm, and thatsweetsmilepassingandappearing likegleamsofsunshineonanAprilday.Nowonderheshouldhungerandthirst tohearhersing. Inowforgavehimfrom my heart his reckless slight of me, and I felt ashamed at my pettishresentment of such a trifle—ashamed too of those bitter envious pangs that

gnawedmyinmostheart,inspiteofallthisadmirationanddelight.

‘Therenow,’ said she, playfully runningher fingersover thekeyswhen shehadconcludedthesecondsong.‘WhatshallIgiveyounext?’

ButinsayingthisshelookedbackatLordLowborough,whowasstandingalittle behind, leaning against the back of a chair, an attentive listener, too,experiencing,tojudgebyhiscountenance,muchthesamefeelingsofmingledpleasureandsadnessasIdid.Butthelookshegavehimplainlysaid,‘Doyouchooseformenow:Ihavedoneenoughforhim,andwillgladlyexertmyselftogratifyyou;’and thusencouraged,his lordshipcameforward,and turningoverthemusic,presentlysetbeforeheralittlesongthatIhadnoticedbefore,andreadmorethanonce,withaninterestarisingfromthecircumstanceofmyconnectingitinmymindwiththereigningtyrantofmythoughts.Andnow,withmynervesalreadyexcitedandhalfunstrung,IcouldnothearthosewordssosweetlywarbledforthwithoutsomesymptomsofemotionIwasnotabletosuppress. Tearsroseunbiddentomyeyes,andIburiedmyfaceinthesofa-pillow that they might flow unseen while I listened. The air was simple,sweet,andsad.Itisstillrunninginmyhead,andsoarethewords:—

Farewelltothee!butnotfarewellToallmyfondestthoughtsofthee:Withinmyhearttheystillshalldwell;Andtheyshallcheerandcomfortme.

Obeautiful,andfullofgrace!Ifthouhadstnevermetmineeye,IhadnotdreamedalivingfaceCouldfanciedcharmssofaroutvie.

IfImayne’erbeholdagainThatformandfacesodeartome,Norhearthyvoice,stillwouldIfainPreserve,foraye,theirmemory.

Thatvoice,themagicofwhosetoneCanwakeanechoinmybreast,Creatingfeelingsthat,alone,Canmakemytrancedspiritblest.

Thatlaughingeye,whosesunnybeamMymemorywouldnotcherishless;—Andoh,thatsmile!IwhosejoyousgleamNomortallanguishcanexpress.

Adieu!butletmecherish,still,

ThehopewithwhichIcannotpart.Contemptmaywound,andcoldnesschill,Butstillitlingersinmyheart.

AndwhocantellbutHeaven,atlast,Mayanswerallmythousandprayers,AndbidthefuturepaythepastWithjoyforanguish,smilesfortears.

Whenitceased,Ilongedfornothingsomuchastobeoutoftheroom.Thesofawasnotfarfromthedoor,butIdidnotdaretoraisemyhead,forIknewMr.Huntingdonwasstandingnearme,andIknewbythesoundofhisvoice,as he spoke in answer to some remark ofLordLowborough’s, that his facewasturnedtowardsme.Perhapsahalf-suppressedsobhadcaughthisear,andcausedhimtolookround—heavenforbid!Butwithaviolenteffort,Icheckedall further signs of weakness, dried my tears, and, when I thought he hadturnedawayagain,rose,andinstantlylefttheapartment,takingrefugeinmyfavouriteresort,thelibrary.

Therewasnolighttherebutthefaintredglowoftheneglectedfire;—butIdidnot want a light; I only wanted to indulge my thoughts, unnoticed andundisturbed;andsittingdownonalowstoolbeforetheeasy-chair,Isunkmyheaduponitscushionedseat,andthought,andthought,untilthetearsgushedoutagain,andIweptlikeanychild.Presently,however,thedoorwasgentlyopenedandsomeoneenteredtheroom.Itrusteditwasonlyaservant,anddidnot stir. The door was closed again—but I was not alone; a hand gentlytouchedmyshoulder,andavoicesaid,softly,—‘Helen,whatisthematter?’

Icouldnotansweratthemoment.

‘Youmust,andshall tellme,’wasadded,morevehemently,and thespeakerthrew himself on his knees beside me on the rug, and forcibly possessedhimselfofmyhand;butIhastilycaughtitaway,andreplied,—‘Itisnothingtoyou,Mr.Huntingdon.’

‘Areyousureitisnothingtome?’hereturned;‘canyouswearthatyouwerenotthinkingofmewhileyouwept?’Thiswasunendurable.Imadeanefforttorise,buthewaskneelingonmydress.

‘Tell me,’ continued he—‘I want to know,—because if you were, I havesomethingtosaytoyou,—andifnot,I’llgo.’

‘Gothen!’Icried;but,fearinghewouldobeytoowell,andnevercomeagain,Ihastilyadded—‘Orsaywhatyouhavetosay,andhavedonewithit!’

‘Butwhich?’ saidhe—‘for I shall only say it if you reallywere thinkingofme.Sotellme,Helen.’

‘You’reexcessivelyimpertinent,Mr.Huntingdon!’

‘Notatall—toopertinent,youmean.Soyouwon’ttellme?—Well,I’llspareyourwoman’s pride, and, construing your silence into “Yes,” I’ll take it forgrantedthatIwasthesubjectofyourthoughts,andthecauseofyouraffliction—’

‘Indeed,sir—’

‘If you deny it, I won’t tell you my secret,’ threatened he; and I did notinterrupthimagain,orevenattempttorepulsehim:thoughhehadtakenmyhand oncemore, and half embracedmewith his other arm, I was scarcelyconsciousofitatthetime.

‘It is this,’ resumedhe: ‘thatAnnabellaWilmot, in comparisonwith you, islikeaflauntingpeonycomparedwithasweet,wildrosebudgemmedwithdew—andI loveyou todistraction!—Now, tellme if that intelligencegivesyouanypleasure.Silenceagain?Thatmeansyes.Thenletmeadd,thatIcannotlivewithoutyou,andifyouanswerNotothislastquestion,youwilldrivememad.—Will you bestow yourself upon me?—you will!’ he cried, nearlysqueezingmetodeathinhisarms.

‘No,no!’Iexclaimed,strugglingtofreemyselffromhim—‘youmustaskmyuncleandaunt.’

‘Theywon’trefuseme,ifyoudon’t.’

‘I’mnotsosureofthat—myauntdislikesyou.’

‘Butyoudon’t,Helen—sayyouloveme,andI’llgo.’

‘Iwishyouwouldgo!’Ireplied.

‘Iwill,thisinstant,—ifyou’llonlysayyouloveme.’

‘You know I do,’ I answered. And again he caught me in his arms, andsmotheredmewithkisses.

Atthatmomentmyauntopenedwidethedoor,andstoodbeforeus,candleinhand, in shocked and horrified amazement, gazing alternately at Mr.Huntingdonandme—forwehadbothstartedup,andnowstoodwideenoughasunder. Buthis confusionwasonly for amoment. Rallying in an instant,with themost enviable assurance, he began,—‘I beg ten thousand pardons,Mrs.Maxwell! Don’tbe toosevereuponme. I’vebeenaskingyour sweetniecetotakemeforbetter,forworse;andshe,likeagoodgirl,informsmeshecannot thinkof itwithoutheruncle’sandaunt’sconsent. Soletmeimploreyounottocondemnmetoeternalwretchedness:ifyoufavourmycause,Iamsafe;forMr.Maxwell,Iamcertain,canrefuseyounothing.’

‘Wewilltalkofthisto-morrow,sir,’saidmyaunt,coldly.‘Itisasubjectthatdemandsmatureandseriousdeliberation.Atpresent,youhadbetterreturntothedrawing-room.’

‘But meantime,’ pleaded he, ‘let me commend my cause to your mostindulgent—’

‘No indulgence for you, Mr. Huntingdon, must come between me and theconsiderationofmyniece’shappiness.’

‘Ah,true!Iknowsheisanangel,andIamapresumptuousdogtodreamofpossessing such a treasure; but, nevertheless, I would sooner die thanrelinquishherinfavourofthebestmanthateverwenttoheaven—andasforherhappiness,Iwouldsacrificemybodyandsoul—’

‘Bodyandsoul,Mr.Huntingdon—sacrificeyoursoul?’

‘Well,Iwouldlaydownlife—’

‘Youwouldnotberequiredtolayitdown.’

‘Iwouldspendit,then—devotemylife—andallitspowerstothepromotionandpreservation—’

‘Another time, sir, wewill talk of this—and I should have felt disposed tojudgemorefavourablyofyourpretensions,ifyoutoohadchosenanothertimeandplace,andletmeadd—anothermannerforyourdeclaration.’

‘Why,yousee,Mrs.Maxwell,’hebegan—

‘Pardonme,sir,’saidshe,withdignity—‘Thecompanyareinquiringforyouintheotherroom.’Andsheturnedtome.

‘Thenyoumustpleadforme,Helen,’saidhe,andatlengthwithdrew.

‘You had better retire to your room,Helen,’ saidmy aunt, gravely. ‘I willdiscussthismatterwithyou,too,to-morrow.’

‘Don’tbeangry,aunt,’saidI.

‘Mydear,Iamnotangry,’shereplied:‘Iamsurprised. If it is truethatyoutoldhimyoucouldnotaccepthisofferwithoutourconsent—’

‘Itistrue,’interruptedI.

‘Thenhowcouldyoupermit—?’

‘Icouldn’thelpit,aunt,’Icried,burstingintotears.Theywerenotaltogetherthetearsofsorrow,oroffearforherdispleasure,butrathertheoutbreakofthegeneraltumultuousexcitementofmyfeelings.Butmygoodauntwastouchedatmyagitation. Inasofter tone,sherepeatedherrecommendationtoretire,

and,gentlykissingmy forehead,bademegood-night, andputher candle inmyhand;andIwent;butmybrainworkedso,Icouldnotthinkofsleeping.IfeelcalmernowthatIhavewrittenallthis;andIwillgotobed,andtrytowintirednature’ssweetrestorer.

CHAPTERXX

September 24th.—In the morning I rose, light and cheerful—nay, intenselyhappy.Thehoveringcloudcastovermebymyaunt’sviews,andbythefearof not obtaining her consent, was lost in the bright effulgence of my ownhopes,andthetoodelightfulconsciousnessofrequitedlove.Itwasasplendidmorning;and Iwentout toenjoy it, inaquiet ramble, incompanywithmyownblissfulthoughts.Thedewwasonthegrass,andtenthousandgossamerswerewavinginthebreeze;thehappyred-breastwaspouringoutitslittlesoulinsong,andmyheartoverflowedwithsilenthymnsofgratitudeandpraisetoheaven.

But I had notwandered far beforemy solitudewas interrupted by the onlypersonthatcouldhavedisturbedmymusings,at thatmoment,withoutbeinglookeduponasanunwelcomeintruder:Mr.Huntingdoncamesuddenlyuponme. So unexpected was the apparition, that I might have thought it thecreation of an over-excited imagination, had the sense of sight alone bornewitnesstohispresence;butimmediatelyIfelthisstrongarmroundmywaistandhiswarmkiss onmy cheek,while his keen andgleeful salutation, ‘MyownHelen!’wasringinginmyear.

‘Not yours yet!’ said I, hastily swerving aside from this too presumptuousgreeting. ‘Remembermy guardians. Youwill not easily obtainmy aunt’sconsent.Don’tyouseesheisprejudicedagainstyou?’

‘Ido,dearest;andyoumusttellmewhy,thatImaybestknowhowtocombatherobjections. IsupposeshethinksIamaprodigal,’pursuedhe,observingthatIwasunwillingtoreply,‘andconcludesthatIshallhavebutlittleworldlygoodswherewith toendowmybetterhalf? If so,youmust tellher thatmyproperty ismostly entailed, and I cannot get rid of it. Theremaybe a fewmortgagesontherest—afewtriflingdebtsandincumbranceshereandthere,butnothingtospeakof;andthoughIacknowledgeIamnotsorichasImightbe—or have been—still, I think, we could manage pretty comfortably onwhat’sleft.Myfather,youknow,wassomethingofamiser,andinhislatterdays especially saw no pleasure in life but to amass riches; and so it is nowonderthathissonshouldmakeithischiefdelighttospendthem,whichwasaccordinglythecase,untilmyacquaintancewithyou,dearHelen, taughtme

other views and nobler aims. And the very idea of having you to care forunder my roof would force me to moderate my expenses and live like aChristian—nottospeakofalltheprudenceandvirtueyouwouldinstilintomymindbyyourwisecounselsandsweet,attractivegoodness.’

‘Butitisnotthat,’saidI;‘itisnotmoneymyauntthinksabout.Sheknowsbetterthantovalueworldlywealthaboveitsprice.’

‘Whatisit,then?’

‘Shewishesmeto—tomarrynonebutareallygoodman.’

‘What,amanof“decidedpiety”?—ahem!—Well,come,I’llmanagethattoo!It’sSundayto-day,isn’tit?I’llgotochurchmorning,afternoon,andevening,and comport myself in such a godly sort that she shall regard me withadmirationandsisterlylove,asabrandpluckedfromtheburning.I’llcomehome sighing like a furnace, and full of the savour andunctionof dearMr.Blatant’sdiscourse—’

‘Mr.Leighton,’saidI,dryly.

‘Is Mr. Leighton a “sweet preacher,” Helen—a “dear, delightful, heavenly-mindedman”?’

‘Heisagoodman,Mr.Huntingdon.IwishIcouldsayhalfasmuchforyou.’

‘Oh,Iforgot,youareasaint,too.Icraveyourpardon,dearest—butdon’tcallmeMr.Huntingdon;mynameisArthur.’

‘I’llcallyounothing—forI’llhavenothingatalltodowithyouifyoutalkinthatwayanymore.Ifyoureallymeantodeceivemyauntasyousay,youareverywicked;andifnot,youareverywrongtojestonsuchasubject.’

‘I stand corrected,’ said he, concluding his laugh with a sorrowful sigh.‘Now,’ resumed he, after a momentary pause, ‘let us talk about somethingelse. Andcomenearertome,Helen,andtakemyarm;andthenI’ll letyoualone.Ican’tbequietwhileIseeyouwalkingthere.’

Icomplied;butsaidwemustsoonreturntothehouse.

‘Noonewillbedowntobreakfastyet,forlongenough,’heanswered.‘Youspokeofyourguardiansjustnow,Helen,butisnotyourfatherstillliving?’

‘Yes,butIalwayslookuponmyuncleandauntasmyguardians,fortheyaresoindeed,thoughnotinname.Myfatherhasentirelygivenmeuptotheircare.Ihaveneverseenhimsincedearmammadied,whenIwasaverylittlegirl, andmyaunt, ather request,offered to takechargeofme,and tookmeaway toStaningley,where I have remained ever since; and I don’t think hewouldobjecttoanythingformethatshethoughtpropertosanction.’

‘Butwouldhesanctionanythingtowhichshethoughtpropertoobject?’

‘No,Idon’tthinkhecaresenoughaboutme.’

‘Heisverymuchtoblame—buthedoesn’tknowwhatanangelhehasforhisdaughter—whichisallthebetterforme,as,ifhedid,hewouldnotbewillingtopartwithsuchatreasure.’

‘AndMr.Huntingdon,’saidI,‘IsupposeyouknowIamnotanheiress?’

Heprotestedhehadnevergivenitathought,andbeggedIwouldnotdisturbhis present enjoyment by themention of such uninteresting subjects. Iwasglad of this proof of disinterested affection; for Annabella Wilmot is theprobable heiress to all her uncle’s wealth, in addition to her late father’sproperty,whichshehasalreadyinpossession.

Inow insistedupon retracingour steps to thehouse;butwewalked slowly,andwenton talkingasweproceeded. Ineednot repeat allwe said: letmeratherrefertowhatpassedbetweenmyauntandme,afterbreakfast,whenMr.Huntingdoncalledmyuncle aside,nodoubt tomakehisproposals, and shebeckonedmeintoanotherroom,wheresheoncemorecommencedasolemnremonstrance,which,however,entirelyfailedtoconvincemethatherviewofthecasewaspreferabletomyown.

‘Youjudgehimuncharitably,aunt,Iknow,’saidI. ‘Hisveryfriendsarenothalf so bad as you represent them. There is Walter Hargrave, Milicent’sbrother,forone:heisbutalittlelowerthantheangels,ifhalfshesaysofhimis true. She is continually talking tome about him, and lauding his manyvirtuestotheskies.’

‘Youwillformaveryinadequateestimateofaman’scharacter,’repliedshe,‘ifyoujudgebywhatafondsistersaysofhim.Theworstofthemgenerallyknowhowtohidetheirmisdeedsfromtheirsisters’eyes,andtheirmother’s,too.’

‘AndthereisLordLowborough,’continuedI,‘quiteadecentman.’

‘Whotoldyouso?LordLowboroughisadesperateman.Hehasdissipatedhis fortune in gambling and other things, and is now seeking an heiress toretrieveit.ItoldMissWilmotso;butyou’reallalike:shehaughtilyansweredshewasverymuchobligedtome,butshebelievedsheknewwhenamanwasseekingherforherfortune,andwhenforherself;sheflatteredherselfshehadhadexperienceenoughin thosematters tobejustifiedin trustingtoherownjudgment—andas forhis lordship’s lackof fortune,shecarednothingaboutthat,asshehopedherownwouldsufficeforboth;andasforhiswildness,shesupposedhewasnoworsethanothers—besides,hewasreformednow.Yes,theycanallplay thehypocritewhen theywant to take ina fond,misguided

woman!’

‘Well,Ithinkhe’saboutasgoodassheis,’saidI.‘ButwhenMr.Huntingdonismarried,hewon’thavemanyopportunitiesofconsortingwithhisbachelorfriends;—andtheworsetheyare,themoreIlongtodeliverhimfromthem.’

‘Tobe sure,mydear; and theworsehe is, I suppose, themoreyou long todeliverhimfromhimself.’

‘Yes,providedhe isnot incorrigible—that is, themoreI long todeliverhimfrom his faults—to give him an opportunity of shaking off the adventitiousevilgot fromcontactwithothersworse thanhimself, and shiningout in theunclouded light of his owngenuine goodness—todomyutmost to help hisbetterselfagainsthisworse,andmakehimwhathewouldhavebeenifhehadnot,fromthebeginning,hadabad,selfish,miserlyfather,who,togratifyhisown sordid passions, restricted him in the most innocent enjoyments ofchildhoodandyouth,andsodisgustedhimwitheverykindofrestraint;—anda foolish mother who indulged him to the top of his bent, deceiving herhusbandforhim,anddoingherutmosttoencouragethosegermsoffollyandviceitwasherdutytosuppress,—andthen,suchasetofcompanionsasyourepresenthisfriendstobe—’

‘Poorman!’saidshe,sarcastically,‘hiskindhavegreatlywrongedhim!’

‘Theyhave!’criedI—‘andtheyshallwronghimnomore—hiswifeshallundowhathismotherdid!’

‘Well,’saidshe,afterashortpause,‘Imustsay,Helen,Ithoughtbetterofyourjudgment than this—and your taste too. How you can love such a man Icannot tell, or what pleasure you can find in his company; for “whatfellowshiphathlightwithdarkness;orhethatbelievethwithaninfidel?”’

‘Heisnotaninfidel;—andIamnotlight,andheisnotdarkness;hisworstandonlyviceisthoughtlessness.’

‘And thoughtlessness,’ pursuedmyaunt, ‘may lead to every crime, andwillbutpoorlyexcuseourerrorsinthesightofGod.Mr.Huntingdon,Isuppose,isnotwithoutthecommonfacultiesofmen:heisnotsolight-headedastobeirresponsible:hisMakerhasendowedhimwithreasonandconscienceaswellastherestofus;theScripturesareopentohimaswellastoothers;—and“ifhehearnot them,neitherwillhehear thoughone rose from thedead.”Andremember,Helen,’continuedshe,solemnly,‘“thewickedshallbeturnedintohell,andtheythatforgetGod!”’Andsuppose,even,thatheshouldcontinuetoloveyou,andyouhim,andthatyoushouldpassthroughlifetogetherwithtolerablecomfort—howwillitbeintheend,whenyouseeyourselvespartedforever;you,perhaps, taken intoeternalbliss,andhecast into the lake that

burnethwithunquenchablefire—thereforeverto—’

‘Notforever,’Iexclaimed,‘“onlytillhehaspaidtheuttermostfarthing;”for“ifanyman’sworkabidenotthefire,heshallsufferloss,yethimselfshallbesaved,butsoasbyfire;”andHethat“isabletosubdueallthingstoHimselfwill have all men to be saved,” and “will, in the fulness of time, gathertogetherinoneallthingsinChristJesus,whotasteddeathforeveryman,andinwhomGodwill reconcileall things toHimself,whether theybe things inearthorthingsinheaven.”’

‘Oh,Helen!wheredidyoulearnallthis?’

‘In the Bible, aunt. I have searched it through, and found nearly thirtypassages,alltendingtosupportthesametheory.’

‘AndisthattheuseyoumakeofyourBible?Anddidyoufindnopassagestendingtoprovethedangerandthefalsityofsuchabelief?’

‘No:Ifound,indeed,somepassagesthat,takenbythemselves,mightseemtocontradict thatopinion;but theywill all bear adifferent construction to thatwhichiscommonlygiven,andinmosttheonlydifficultyisinthewordwhichwetranslate“everlasting”or“eternal.”Idon’tknowtheGreek,butIbelieveitstrictlymeansforages,andmightsignifyeitherendlessor long-enduring.Andasforthedangerofthebelief,IwouldnotpublishitabroadifIthoughtanypoorwretchwouldbelikelytopresumeuponittohisowndestruction,butitisagloriousthoughttocherishinone’sownheart,andIwouldnotpartwithitforalltheworldcangive!’

Hereourconferenceended, for itwasnowhigh time toprepare forchurch.Every one attended themorning service, exceptmy uncle,who hardly evergoes,andMr.Wilmot,whostayedathomewithhimtoenjoyaquietgameofcribbage. In the afternoon Miss Wilmot and Lord Lowborough likewiseexcused themselves from attending; but Mr. Huntingdon vouchsafed toaccompany us again. Whether it was to ingratiate himself with my aunt Icannottell,but,ifso,hecertainlyshouldhavebehavedbetter.Imustconfess,Ididnotlikehisconductduringserviceatall.Holdinghisprayer-bookupsidedown,oropenatanyplacebuttheright,hedidnothingbutstareabouthim,unlesshehappened tocatchmyaunt’seyeormine,and thenhewoulddrophisownonhisbook,withapuritanicalairofmocksolemnitythatwouldhavebeen ludicrous, if it hadnot been tooprovoking. Once, during the sermon,after attentively regarding Mr. Leighton for a few minutes, he suddenlyproduced his gold pencil-case and snatched up a Bible. Perceiving that Iobservedthemovement,hewhisperedthathewasgoingtomakeanoteofthesermon;butinsteadofthat,asIsatnexthim,Icouldnothelpseeingthathewas making a caricature of the preacher, giving to the respectable, pious,

elderlygentleman,theairandaspectofamostabsurdoldhypocrite.Andyet,upon his return, he talked to my aunt about the sermon with a degree ofmodest, serious discrimination that tempted me to believe he had reallyattendedtoandprofitedbythediscourse.

Justbeforedinnermyunclecalledmeintothelibraryforthediscussionofaveryimportantmatter,whichwasdismissedinfewwords.

‘Now,Nell,’ saidhe, ‘thisyoungHuntingdonhasbeenasking foryou:whatmustIsayaboutit?Yourauntwouldanswer“no”—butwhatsayyou?’

‘I say yes, uncle,’ replied I, without a moment’s hesitation; for I hadthoroughlymadeupmymindonthesubject.

‘Very good!’ cried he. ‘Now that’s a goodhonest answer—wonderful for agirl!—Well,I’llwritetoyourfatherto-morrow.He’ssuretogivehisconsent;soyoumay lookon thematter as settled. You’dhavedone adeal better ifyou’dtakenWilmot,Icantellyou;butthatyouwon’tbelieve.Atyourtimeof life, it’s love that rules the roast: atmine, it’s solid, serviceable gold. Isupposenow,you’dneverdreamof looking into thestateofyourhusband’sfinances,ortroublingyourheadaboutsettlements,oranythingofthatsort?’

‘Idon’tthinkIshould.’

‘Well,be thankful, then, thatyou’vewiserheads to thinkforyou. Ihaven’thadtime,yet,toexaminethoroughlyintothisyoungrascal’saffairs,butIseethatagreatpartofhisfather’sfinepropertyhasbeensquanderedaway;—butstill,Ithink,there’saprettyfairshareofitleft,andalittlecarefulnursingmaymakeahandsome thingof it yet; and thenwemustpersuadeyour father togiveyouadecentfortune,ashehasonlyonebesidesyourself tocarefor;—and,ifyoubehavewell,whoknowsbutwhatImaybeinducedtorememberyouinmywill!’continuedhe,puttinghisfingerstohisnose,withaknowingwink.

‘Thanks,uncle,forthatandallyourkindness,’repliedI.

‘Well, and I questioned this young spark on the matter of settlements,’continuedhe;‘andheseemeddisposedtobegenerousenoughonthatpoint—’

‘Iknewhewould!’saidI.‘Butpraydon’ttroubleyourhead—orhis,ormineabout that; for all I havewill be his, and all he haswill bemine; andwhatmorecouldeitherofus require?’ And Iwasabout tomakemyexit,buthecalledmeback.

‘Stop,stop!’criedhe;‘wehaven’tmentionedthetimeyet.Whenmustitbe?Yourauntwouldputitoff till theLordknowswhen,butheisanxioustobeboundassoonasmaybe:hewon’thearofwaitingbeyondnextmonth;and

you,Iguess,willbeofthesamemind,so—’

‘Notatall,uncle;onthecontrary,IshouldliketowaittillafterChristmas,atleast.’

‘Oh! pooh, pooh! never tell me that tale—I know better,’ cried he; and hepersistedinhisincredulity.Nevertheless,itisquitetrue.Iaminnohurryatall.HowcanIbe,whenIthinkofthemomentouschangethatawaitsme,andofallIhavetoleave?Itishappinessenoughtoknowthatwearetobeunited;andthathereallylovesme,andImaylovehimasdevotedly,andthinkofhimasoftenas Iplease. However, I insisteduponconsultingmyauntabout thetime of the wedding, for I determined her counsels should not be utterlydisregarded;andnoconclusionsonthatparticulararecometoyet.

CHAPTERXXI

October 1st.—All is settled now. My father has given his consent, and thetime is fixed forChristmas,bya sortofcompromisebetween the respectiveadvocatesforhurryanddelay.MilicentHargraveistobeonebridesmaidandAnnabellaWilmottheother—notthatIamparticularlyfondofthelatter,butsheisanintimateofthefamily,andIhavenotanotherfriend.

When I told Milicent of my engagement, she rather provoked me by hermanner of taking it. After staring a moment in mute surprise, she said,—‘Well,Helen,IsupposeIoughttocongratulateyou—andIamgladtoseeyousohappy;butIdidnotthinkyouwouldtakehim;andIcan’thelpfeelingsurprisedthatyoushouldlikehimsomuch.’

‘Whyso?’

‘Becauseyouare so superior tohim ineveryway,and there’s somethingsoboldandrecklessabouthim—so,Idon’tknowhow—butIalwaysfeelawishtogetoutofhiswaywhenIseehimapproach.’

‘Youaretimid,Milicent;butthat’snofaultofhis.’

‘Andthenhislook,’continuedshe.‘Peoplesayhe’shandsome,andofcourseheis;butIdon’tlikethatkindofbeauty,andIwonderthatyoushould.’

‘Whyso,pray?’

‘Well,youknow,Ithinkthere’snothingnobleorloftyinhisappearance.’

‘In fact, youwonder that I can like any one so unlike the stilted heroes ofromance. Well,givememy fleshandblood lover, and I’ll leaveall theSir

HerbertsandValentinestoyou—ifyoucanfindthem.’

‘Idon’twantthem,’saidshe.‘I’llbesatisfiedwithfleshandbloodtoo—onlythe spirit must shine through and predominate. But don’t you think Mr.Huntingdon’sfaceistoored?’

‘No!’criedI,indignantly.‘Itisnotredatall.Thereisjustapleasantglow,ahealthy freshness in his complexion—the warm, pinky tint of the wholeharmonisingwiththedeepercolourofthecheeks,exactlyasitoughttodo.Ihate aman to be red andwhite, like a painted doll, or all sickly white, orsmokyblack,orcadaverousyellow.’

‘Well,tastesdiffer—butIlikepaleordark,’repliedshe.‘But,totellyouthetruth,Helen,Ihadbeendeludingmyselfwiththehopethatyouwouldonedaybemysister.IexpectedWalterwouldbeintroducedtoyounextseason;andIthoughtyouwouldlikehim,andwascertainhewouldlikeyou;andIflatteredmyselfIshouldthushavethefelicityofseeingthetwopersonsIlikebestintheworld—exceptmamma—united inone. Hemayn’tbeexactlywhatyouwouldcallhandsome,buthe’sfarmoredistinguished-looking,andnicerandbetter thanMr.Huntingdon;—and I’m sure youwould say so, if you knewhim.’

‘Impossible,Milicent! You think so, because you’re his sister; and, on thataccount, I’ll forgive you; but nobody else should so disparage ArthurHuntingdontomewithimpunity.’

MissWilmotexpressedherfeelingsonthesubjectalmostasopenly.

‘Andso,Helen,’saidshe,cominguptomewithasmileofnoamiableimport,‘youaretobeMrs.Huntingdon,Isuppose?’

‘Yes,’repliedI.‘Don’tyouenvyme?’

‘Oh,dear,no!’sheexclaimed. ‘IshallprobablybeLadyLowboroughsomeday,andthenyouknow,dear,Ishallbeinacapacitytoinquire,“Don’tyouenvyme?”’

‘HenceforthIshallenvynoone,’returnedI.

‘Indeed!Areyousohappythen?’saidshe,thoughtfully;andsomethingverylikeacloudofdisappointmentshadowedherface.‘Anddoesheloveyou—Imean,doesheidoliseyouasmuchasyoudohim?’sheadded,fixinghereyesuponmewithill-disguisedanxietyforthereply.

‘Idon’twanttobeidolised,’Ianswered;‘butIamwellassuredthathelovesmemorethananybodyelseintheworld—asIdohim.’

‘Exactly,’saidshe,withanod.‘Iwish—‘shepaused.

‘What do you wish?’ asked I, annoyed at the vindictive expression of hercountenance.

‘Iwish,’ returned, she,with a short laugh, ‘that all the attractive points anddesirablequalificationsof the twogentlemenwereunited inone—thatLordLowboroughhadHuntingdon’s handsome face andgood temper, and all hiswit, and mirth and charm, or else that Huntingdon had Lowborough’spedigree, and title, and delightful old family seat, and I had him; and youmighthavetheotherandwelcome.’

‘Thankyou,dearAnnabella:Iambettersatisfiedwiththingsastheyare,formyownpart;andforyou,IwishyouwereaswellcontentwithyourintendedasIamwithmine,’saidI;anditwastrueenough;for,thoughvexedatfirstatherunamiablespirit,herfranknesstouchedme,andthecontrastbetweenoursituationswassuch,thatIcouldwellaffordtopityherandwishherwell.

Mr. Huntingdon’s acquaintances appear to be no better pleased with ourapproachingunion thanmine. Thismorning’spostbroughthimletters fromseveralofhis friends,during theperusalofwhich, at thebreakfast-table,heexcitedtheattentionofthecompanybythesingularvarietyofhisgrimaces.Buthecrushedthemallintohispocket,withaprivatelaugh,andsaidnothingtillthemealwasconcluded.Then,whilethecompanywerehangingoverthefireorloiteringthroughtheroom,previoustosettlingtotheirvariousmorningavocations, he came and leant over the back of my chair, with his face incontactwithmycurls,andcommencingwithaquiet littlekiss,poured forththefollowingcomplaintsintomyear:—

‘Helen,youwitch,doyouknowthatyou’veentaileduponmethecursesofallmyfriends?Iwrotetothemtheotherday,totellthemofmyhappyprospects,andnow,insteadofabundleofcongratulations,I’vegotapocketfulofbitterexecrationsand reproaches. There’snotonekindwish forme,oronegoodwordforyou,amongthemall.Theysaythere’llbenomorefunnow,nomoremerrydaysandgloriousnights—andallmyfault—Iamthefirsttobreakupthejovialband,andothers,inpuredespair,willfollowmyexample.Iwastheverylifeandpropofthecommunity,theydomethehonourtosay,andIhaveshamefullybetrayedmytrust—’

‘You may join them again, if you like,’ said I, somewhat piqued at thesorrowfultoneofhisdiscourse.‘Ishouldbesorrytostandbetweenanyman—orbodyofmen,andsomuchhappiness;andperhaps Icanmanage todowithoutyou,aswellasyourpoordesertedfriends.’

‘Blessyou,no,’murmuredhe.‘It’s“allforloveortheworldwelllost,”withme. Let themgo to—where theybelong, to speakpolitely. But ifyou sawhow they abuse me, Helen, you would love me all the more for having

venturedsomuchforyoursake.’

Hepulledouthiscrumpledletters. I thoughthewasgoingtoshowthemtome,andtoldhimIdidnotwishtoseethem.

‘I’mnotgoingtoshowthemtoyou,love,’saidhe.‘They’rehardlyfitforalady’seyes—themostpartofthem.Butlookhere.ThisisGrimsby’sscrawl—only three lines, the sulkydog! Hedoesn’t saymuch, tobe sure,buthisverysilenceimpliesmorethanalltheothers’words,andthelesshesays,themorehethinks—andthisisHargrave’smissive.Heisparticularlygrievedatme,because,forsoothhehadfalleninlovewithyoufromhissister’sreports,andmeanttohavemarriedyouhimself,assoonashehadsownhiswildoats.’

‘I’mvastlyobligedtohim,’observedI.

‘AndsoamI,’saidhe. ‘Andlookat this. This isHattersley’s—everypagestuffed full of railing accusations, bitter curses, and lamentable complaints,endingupwithswearingthathe’llgetmarriedhimselfinrevenge:he’llthrowhimselfawayonthefirstoldmaidthatchoosestosethercapathim,—asifIcaredwhathedidwithhimself.’

‘Well,’saidI,‘ifyoudogiveupyourintimacywiththesemen,Idon’tthinkyouwillhavemuchcausetoregretthelossoftheirsociety;forit’smybelieftheyneverdidyoumuchgood.’

‘Maybenot;butwe’damerrytimeofit,too,thoughmingledwithsorrowandpain,asLowboroughknowstohiscost—Ha,ha!’andwhilehewaslaughingattherecollectionofLowborough’stroubles,myunclecameandslappedhimontheshoulder.

‘Come,mylad!’saidhe.‘Areyoutoobusymakinglovetomyniecetomakewarwiththepheasants?—FirstofOctober,remember! Sunshinesout—rainceased—even Boarham’s not afraid to venture in his waterproof boots; andWilmotandIaregoingtobeatyouall.Ideclare,weold’unsarethekeenestsportsmenofthelot!’

‘I’ll show you what I can do to-day, however,’ said my companion. ‘I’llmurder your birds by wholesale, just for keeping me away from bettercompanythaneitheryouorthem.’

Andsosayinghedeparted;andIsawnomoreofhimtilldinner.Itseemedawearytime;IwonderwhatIshalldowithouthim.

It is very true that the three elder gentlemen have proved themselvesmuchkeenersportsmenthanthetwoyoungerones;forbothLordLowboroughandArthurHuntingdonhaveoflatealmostdailyneglectedtheshootingexcursionstoaccompanyusinourvariousridesandrambles.Butthesemerrytimesare

fastdrawingtoaclose.Inlessthanafortnightthepartybreakup,muchtomysorrow,foreverydayIenjoy itmoreandmore—nowthatMessrs.BoarhamandWilmothaveceased to teaseme,andmyaunthasceased to lectureme,andIhaveceased tobe jealousofAnnabella—andeven todislikeher—andnowthatMr.HuntingdonisbecomemyArthur,andImayenjoyhissocietywithoutrestraint.WhatshallIdowithouthim,Irepeat?

CHAPTERXXII

October 5th.—My cup of sweets is not unmingled: it is dashed with abitterness that I cannothide frommyself,disguise it as Iwill. Imay try topersuade myself that the sweetness overpowers it; I may call it a pleasantaromaticflavour;butsaywhatIwill,itisstillthere,andIcannotbuttasteit.IcannotshutmyeyestoArthur’sfaults;andthemoreIlovehimthemoretheytroubleme.Hisveryheart,thatItrustedso,is,Ifear,lesswarmandgenerousthanIthoughtit.Atleast,hegavemeaspecimenofhischaracterto-daythatseemed to merit a harder name than thoughtlessness. He and LordLowboroughwereaccompanyingAnnabellaandmeinalong,delightfulride;hewasridingbymyside,asusual,andAnnabellaandLordLowboroughwerealittlebeforeus,thelatterbendingtowardshiscompanionasifintenderandconfidentialdiscourse.

‘Those twowillget the startofus,Helen, ifwedon’t looksharp,’observedHuntingdon. ‘They’ll make a match of it, as sure as can be. ThatLowborough’s fairlybesotted. Buthe’ll findhimself in a fixwhenhe’sgother,Idoubt.’

‘Andshe’llfindherselfinafixwhenshe’sgothim,’saidI,‘ifwhatI’veheardofhimistrue.’

‘Not a bit of it. She knows what she’s about; but he, poor fool, deludeshimselfwiththenotionthatshe’llmakehimagoodwife,andbecauseshehasamused him with some rodomontade about despising rank and wealth inmattersofloveandmarriage,heflattershimselfthatshe’sdevotedlyattachedtohim;thatshewillnotrefusehimforhispoverty,anddoesnotcourthimforhisrank,butloveshimforhimselfalone.’

‘Butisnothecourtingherforherfortune?’

‘No,nothe.Thatwasthefirstattraction,certainly;butnowhehasquitelostsight of it: it never enters his calculations, except merely as an essentialwithoutwhich, for the lady’sownsake,hecouldnot thinkofmarryingher.No;he’sfairlyinlove.Hethoughthenevercouldbeagain,buthe’sinforit

oncemore.Hewastohavebeenmarriedbefore,sometwoorthreeyearsago;buthelosthisbridebylosinghisfortune.HegotintoabadwayamongusinLondon:hehadanunfortunatetasteforgambling;andsurelythefellowwasbornunderanunluckystar, forhealways lost thricewherehegainedonce.That’samodeofself-torment Ineverwasmuchaddicted to. WhenIspendmymoney I like to enjoy the full value of it: I see no fun inwasting it onthievesandblacklegs; andas forgainingmoney,hitherto Ihavealwayshadsufficient;it’stimeenoughtobeclutchingformore,Ithink,whenyoubeginto see the end of what you have. But I have sometimes frequented thegaming-housesjusttowatchtheon-goingsofthosemadvotariesofchance—averyinterestingstudy,Iassureyou,Helen,andsometimesverydiverting:I’vehad many a laugh at the boobies and bedlamites. Lowborough was quiteinfatuated—notwillingly,butofnecessity,—hewasalwaysresolvingtogiveitup, and always breaking his resolutions. Every venture was the ‘just oncemore:’ifhegainedalittle,hehopedtogainalittlemorenexttime,andifhelost, itwouldnot do to leaveoff at that juncture; hemust goon till hehadretrieved that lastmisfortune, at least: bad luck could not last for ever; andevery luckyhitwas lookeduponas thedawnofbetter times, tillexperienceprovedthecontrary. At lengthhegrewdesperate,andweweredailyon thelook-out foracaseof felo-de-se—nogreatmatter, someofuswhispered,ashisexistencehadceasedtobeanacquisitiontoourclub.Atlast,however,hecametoacheck.Hemadealargestake,whichhedeterminedshouldbethelast,whetherhelostorwon. Hehadoftensodeterminedbefore, tobesure,andasoftenbrokenhisdetermination;andso itwas this time. He lost;andwhilehisantagonistsmilinglysweptawaythestakes,heturnedchalkywhite,drewbackinsilence,andwipedhisforehead.Iwaspresentatthetime;andwhilehe stoodwith foldedarmsandeyes fixedon theground, I knewwellenoughwhatwaspassinginhismind.

‘“Isittobethelast,Lowborough?”saidI,steppinguptohim.

‘“Thelastbutone,”heanswered,withagrimsmile;andthen,rushingbacktothetable,hestruckhishanduponit,and,raisinghisvoicehighabovealltheconfusion of jingling coins and muttered oaths and curses in the room, hesworeadeepandsolemnoaththat,comewhatwould,thistrialshouldbethelast,andimprecatedunspeakablecursesonhisheadifeverheshouldshuffleacard or rattle a dice-box again. He then doubled his former stake, andchallengedanyonepresenttoplayagainsthim.Grimsbyinstantlypresentedhimself. Lowborough glared fiercely at him, for Grimsby was almost ascelebrated for his luck as he was for his ill-fortune. However, they fell towork. ButGrimsby hadmuch skill and little scruple, andwhether he tookadvantageoftheother’strembling,blindedeagernesstodealunfairlybyhim,Icannotundertaketosay;butLowboroughlostagain,andfelldeadsick.

‘“You’dbetter tryoncemore,” saidGrimsby, leaning across the table. Andthenhewinkedatme.

‘“I’venothingtotrywith,”saidthepoordevil,withaghastlysmile.

‘“Oh,Huntingdonwilllendyouwhatyouwant,”saidtheother.

‘“No; you heard my oath,” answered Lowborough, turning away in quietdespair.AndItookhimbythearmandledhimout.

‘“Isittobethelast,Lowborough?”Iasked,whenIgothimintothestreet.

‘“Thelast,”heanswered,somewhatagainstmyexpectation.AndItookhimhome—that is, toour club—forhewas as submissive as a child—andpliedhimwithbrandy-and-watertillhebegantolookratherbrighter—rathermorealive,atleast.

‘“Huntingdon,I’mruined!”saidhe,takingthethirdglassfrommyhand—hehaddrunktheothersindeadsilence.

‘“Notyou,”saidI.“You’llfindamancanlivewithouthismoneyasmerrilyasatortoisewithoutitshead,orawaspwithoutitsbody.”

‘“ButI’mindebt,”saidhe—“deepindebt.AndIcannever,nevergetoutofit.”

‘“Well,whatofthat?Manyabettermanthanyouhaslivedanddiedindebt;and they can’t put you inprison, youknow,becauseyou’re a peer.” And Ihandedhimhisfourthtumbler.

‘“ButIhatetobeindebt!”heshouted.“Iwasn’tbornforit,andIcannotbearit.”

‘“Whatcan’tbecuredmustbeendured,”saidI,beginningtomixthefifth.

‘“And then, I’ve lost my Caroline.” And he began to snivel then, for thebrandyhadsoftenedhisheart.

‘“Nomatter,”Ianswered,“therearemoreCarolinesintheworldthanone.”

‘“There’sonlyone forme,”he replied,withadolorous sigh. “And if therewerefiftymore,who’stogetthem,Iwonder,withoutmoney?”

‘“Oh, somebody will take you for your title; and then you’ve your familyestateyet;that’sentailed,youknow.”

‘“IwishtoGodIcouldsellittopaymydebts,”hemuttered.

‘“And then,” saidGrimsby,who had just come in, “you can try again, youknow. I would havemore than one chance, if I were you. I’d never stophere.”

‘“Iwon’t, I tell you!” shouted he. And he started up, and left the room—walkingratherunsteadily,fortheliquorhadgotintohishead.Hewasnotsomuchusedtoitthen,butafterthathetooktoitkindlytosolacehiscares.

‘Hekepthisoathaboutgambling(notalittletothesurpriseofusall),thoughGrimsbydidhisutmosttotempthimtobreakit,butnowhehadgotholdofanotherhabit thatbotheredhimnearlyasmuch, forhe soondiscovered thatthedemonofdrinkwasasblackasthedemonofplay,andnearlyashardtoget rid of—especially as his kind friends did all they could to second thepromptingsofhisowninsatiablecravings.’

‘Then, they were demons themselves,’ cried I, unable to contain myindignation.‘Andyou,Mr.Huntingdon,itseems,werethefirsttotempthim.’

‘Well, what could we do?’ replied he, deprecatingly.—‘We meant it inkindness—wecouldn’tbeartoseethepoorfellowsomiserable:—andbesides,hewas such a damper upon us, sitting there silent and glum,when hewasunder the threefold influence—of the loss of his sweetheart, the loss of hisfortune, and the reaction of the lost night’s debauch;whereas,when he hadsomethinginhim,ifhewasnotmerryhimself,hewasanunfailingsourceofmerriment to us. Even Grimsby could chuckle over his odd sayings: theydelightedhimfarmorethanmymerryjests,orHattersley’sriotousmirth.Butone evening, when we were sitting over our wine, after one of our clubdinners,andallhadbeenheartytogether,—Lowboroughgivingusmadtoasts,andhearingourwildsongs,andbearingahandintheapplause,ifhedidnothelpustosingthemhimself,—hesuddenlyrelapsedintosilence,sinkinghisheadonhishand,andneverliftinghisglasstohislips;—butthiswasnothingnew; sowe let him alone, andwent onwith our jollification, till, suddenlyraising his head, he interrupted us in the middle of a roar of laughter byexclaiming,—‘Gentlemen,whereisallthistoend?—Willyoujusttellmethatnow?—Whereisitalltoend?’Herose.

‘“Aspeech,aspeech!”shoutedwe.“Hear,hear!Lowborough’sgoingtogiveusaspeech!”

‘Hewaited calmly till the thunders of applause and jingling of glasses hadceased, and then proceeded,—“It’s only this, gentlemen,—that I thinkwe’dbettergonofurther.We’dbetterstopwhilewecan.”

‘“Justso!”criedHattersley—

“Stop,poorsinner,stopandthinkBeforeyoufurthergo,NolongersportuponthebrinkOfeverlastingwoe.”

‘“Exactly!”repliedhislordship,withtheutmostgravity.“Andifyouchoosetovisitthebottomlesspit,Iwon’tgowithyou—wemustpartcompany,forIswearI’llnotmoveanothersteptowardsit!—What’sthis?”hesaid,takinguphisglassofwine.

‘“Tasteit,”suggestedI.

‘“Thisishellbroth!”heexclaimed.“Irenounceitforever!”Andhethrewitoutintothemiddleofthetable.

‘“Fill again!” said I, handing him the bottle—“and let us drink to yourrenunciation.”

‘“It’s rankpoison,”saidhe,grasping thebottleby theneck,“andI forswearit!I’vegivenupgambling,andI’llgiveupthistoo.”Hewasonthepointofdeliberately pouring the whole contents of the bottle on to the table, butHargravewrested it fromhim. “Onyoube thecurse, then!” saidhe. And,backing from the room, he shouted, “Farewell, ye tempters!” and vanishedamidshoutsoflaughterandapplause.

‘Weexpectedhimbackamongusthenextday;but,tooursurprise,theplaceremained vacant: we saw nothing of him for a whole week; and we reallybegantothinkhewasgoingtokeephisword.Atlast,oneevening,whenweweremost of us assembled together again, he entered, silent and grim as aghost,andwouldhavequietlyslippedintohisusualseatatmyelbow,butweallrosetowelcomehim,andseveralvoiceswereraisedtoaskwhathewouldhave, and several handswerebusywithbottle andglass to servehim;but Iknew a smoking tumbler of brandy-and-waterwould comfort him best, andhadnearlypreparedit,whenhepeevishlypusheditaway,saying,—

‘“Doletmealone,Huntingdon!Dobequiet,allofyou!I’mnotcometojoinyou: I’m only come to be with you awhile, because I can’t bear my ownthoughts.”Andhefoldedhisarms,andleantbackinhischair;sowelethimbe. But I left the glass by him; and, after awhile, Grimsby directed myattentiontowardsit,byasignificantwink;and,onturningmyhead,Isawitwas drained to the bottom. He made me a sign to replenish, and quietlypushed up the bottle. I willingly complied; but Lowborough detected thepantomime,and,nettledattheintelligentgrinsthatwerepassingbetweenus,snatchedtheglassfrommyhand,dashedthecontentsofitinGrimsby’sface,threwtheemptytumbleratme,andthenboltedfromtheroom.’

‘Ihopehebrokeyourhead,’saidI.

‘No,love,’repliedhe,laughingimmoderatelyattherecollectionofthewholeaffair; ‘he would have done so,—and perhaps, spoilt my face, too, but,providentially, this forest of curls’ (taking off his hat, and showing his

luxuriant chestnut locks) ‘saved my skull, and prevented the glass frombreaking,tillitreachedthetable.’

‘After that,’ he continued, ‘Lowborough kept aloof from us a week or twolonger. Iused tomeethimoccasionally in the town;and then,as Iwas toogood-naturedtoresenthisunmannerlyconduct,andheborenomaliceagainstme,—hewasneverunwillingtotalktome;onthecontrary,hewouldclingtome, and follow me anywhere but to the club, and the gaming-houses, andsuch-like dangerous places of resort—hewas soweary of his ownmoping,melancholy mind. At last, I got him to come in with me to the club, oncondition that I would not tempt him to drink; and, for some time, hecontinuedtolookinuponusprettyregularlyofanevening,—stillabstaining,with wonderful perseverance, from the “rank poison” he had so bravelyforsworn.Butsomeofourmembersprotestedagainstthisconduct.Theydidnot like to have him sitting there like a skeleton at a feast, instead ofcontributinghisquotatothegeneralamusement,castingacloudoverall,andwatching,withgreedyeyes,everydroptheycarriedtotheirlips—theyvowedit was not fair; and some of them maintained that he should either becompelled todoasothersdid,or expelled from the society; and swore that,nexttimeheshowedhimself,theywouldtellhimasmuch,and,ifhedidnottakethewarning,proceedtoactivemeasures.However,Ibefriendedhimonthis occasion, and recommended them to let him be for awhile, intimatingthat,withalittlepatienceonourparts,hewouldsooncomeroundagain.But,to be sure, it was rather provoking; for, though he refused to drink like anhonest Christian, it was well known to me that he kept a private bottle oflaudanumabouthim,whichhewascontinuallysoakingat—orrather,holdingoff and on with, abstaining one day and exceeding the next—just like thespirits.

‘One night, however, during one of our orgies—one of our high festivals, Imean—heglidedin,liketheghostin“Macbeth,”andseatedhimself,asusual,a littleback from the table, in the chairwealwaysplaced for “the spectre,”whetheritchosetofillitornot.Isawbyhisfacethathewassufferingfromtheeffectsofanoverdoseofhisinsidiouscomforter;butnobodyspoketohim,and he spoke to nobody. A few sidelong glances, and a whisperedobservation, that “the ghost was come,” was all the notice he drew by hisappearance,andwewentonwithourmerrycarousalsasbefore,tillhestartledusallbysuddenlydrawinginhischair,andleaningforwardwithhiselbowsonthetable,andexclaimingwithportentoussolemnity,—“Well!itpuzzlesmewhatyoucanfindtobesomerryabout.WhatyouseeinlifeIdon’tknow—Iseeonlytheblacknessofdarkness,andafearfullookingforofjudgmentandfieryindignation!”

‘All the company simultaneously pushed up their glasses to him, and I set

thembefore him in a semicircle, and, tenderly patting himon the back, bidhimdrink, andhewould soon see as bright a prospect as anyof us; but hepushedthemback,muttering,—

‘“Take them away! I won’t taste it, I tell you. I won’t—I won’t!” So Ihandedthemdownagaintotheowners;butIsawthathefollowedthemwithaglareofhungryregretastheydeparted.Thenheclaspedhishandsbeforehiseyestoshutoutthesight,andtwominutesafterliftedhisheadagain,andsaid,inahoarsebutvehementwhisper,—

‘“AndyetImust!Huntingdon,getmeaglass!”

‘“Takethebottle,man!”saidI,thrustingthebrandy-bottleintohishand—butstop,I’mtellingtoomuch,’mutteredthenarrator,startledatthelookIturnedupon him. ‘But no matter,’ he recklessly added, and thus continued hisrelation:‘Inhisdesperateeagerness,heseizedthebottleandsuckedaway,tillhe suddenly dropped from his chair, disappearing under the table amid atempestofapplause.Theconsequenceofthisimprudencewassomethinglikeanapoplecticfit,followedbyaratherseverebrainfever—’

‘Andwhatdidyouthinkofyourself,sir?’saidI,quickly.

‘Ofcourse,Iwasverypenitent,’hereplied.‘Iwenttoseehimonceortwice—nay,twiceorthrice—orby’rlady,somefourtimes—andwhenhegotbetter,Itenderlybroughthimbacktothefold.’

‘Whatdoyoumean?’

‘Imean, I restored him to the bosom of the club, and compassionating thefeebleness of his health and extreme lowness of his spirits, I recommendedhim to “take a little wine for his stomach’s sake,” and, when he wassufficiently re-established, to embrace the media-via, ni-jamais-ni-toujoursplan—not to kill himself like a fool, and not to abstain like a ninny—in aword,toenjoyhimselflikearationalcreature,anddoasIdid;for,don’tthink,Helen, that I’ma tippler; I’mnothingat allof thekind, andneverwas, andnevershallbe.Ivaluemycomfortfartoomuch.Iseethatamancannotgivehimselfuptodrinkingwithoutbeingmiserableone-halfhisdaysandmadtheother;besides, I like toenjoymy lifeatall sidesandends,whichcannotbedonebyonethatsuffershimself tobetheslaveofasinglepropensity—and,moreover, drinking spoils one’s good looks,’ he concluded, with a mostconceitedsmilethatoughttohaveprovokedmemorethanitdid.

‘AnddidLordLowboroughprofitbyyouradvice?’Iasked.

‘Why,yes,inamanner.Forawhilehemanagedverywell;indeed,hewasamodelofmoderationandprudence—somethingtoomuchsoforthetastesofour wild community; but, somehow, Lowborough had not the gift of

moderation: if he stumbled a little to one side, hemust go down before hecould right himself: if he overshot the mark one night, the effects of itrendered him so miserable the next day that he must repeat the offence tomendit;andsoonfromdaytoday,tillhisclamorousconsciencebroughthimtoastand.Andthen,inhissobermoments,hesobotheredhisfriendswithhisremorse,andhisterrorsandwoes, that theywereobliged, inself-defence, togethimtodrownhissorrowsinwine,oranymorepotentbeveragethatcametohand;andwhenhisfirstscruplesofconsciencewereovercome,hewouldneednomorepersuading,hewouldoftengrowdesperate, andbeasgreat ablackguard as any of them could desire—but only to lament his ownunutterablewickednessanddegradationthemorewhenthefitwasover.

‘Atlast,onedaywhenheandIwerealonetogether,afterponderingawhileinoneofhisgloomy,abstractedmoods,withhisarmsfoldedandhisheadsunkonhisbreast,hesuddenlywokeup,andvehementlygraspingmyarm,said,—

‘“Huntingdon,thiswon’tdo!I’mresolvedtohavedonewithit.”

‘“What,areyougoingtoshootyourself?”saidI.

‘“No;I’mgoingtoreform.”

‘“Oh,that’snothingnew!You’vebeengoingtoreformthesetwelvemonthsandmore.”

‘“Yes,butyouwouldn’tletme;andIwassuchafoolIcouldn’tlivewithoutyou.ButnowIseewhatitisthatkeepsmeback,andwhat’swantedtosaveme; and I’d compass sea and land to get it—only I’m afraid there’s nochance.”Andhesighedasifhisheartwouldbreak.

‘“Whatisit,Lowborough?”saidI,thinkinghewasfairlycrackedatlast.

‘“Awife,”heanswered;“forIcan’tlivealone,becausemyownminddistractsme,andIcan’tlivewithyou,becauseyoutakethedevil’spartagainstme.”

‘“Who—I?”

‘“Yes—allofyoudo—andyoumore thananyof them,youknow. But if Icouldgetawife,withfortuneenoughtopayoffmydebtsandsetmestraightintheworld—”

‘“Tobesure,”saidI.

‘“And sweetness and goodness enough,” he continued, “to make hometolerable,andtoreconcilemetomyself,IthinkIshoulddoyet.Ishallneverbe in loveagain, that’scertain;butperhaps thatwouldbenogreatmatter, itwould enableme to choosewithmyeyesopen—and I shouldmake agoodhusband in spite of it; but could any one be in love with me?—that’s the

question.Withyourgoodlooksandpowersoffascination”(hewaspleasedtosay),“Imighthope;butasitis,Huntingdon,doyouthinkanybodywouldtakeme—ruinedandwretchedasIam?”

‘“Yes,certainly.”

‘“Who?”

‘“Why,anyneglectedoldmaid,fastsinkingindespair,wouldbedelightedto—”

‘“No,no,”saidhe—“itmustbesomebodythatIcanlove.”

‘“Why,youjustsaidyounevercouldbeinloveagain!”

‘“Well, love is not theword—but somebody that I can like. I’ll search allEngland through, at all events!” he cried, with a sudden burst of hope, ordesperation. “Succeed or fail, it will be better than rushing headlong todestructionatthatd-dclub:sofarewelltoitandyou.WheneverImeetyouonhonestgroundorunderaChristianroof,Ishallbegladtoseeyou;butnevermoreshallyouenticemetothatdevil’sden!”

‘Thiswasshamefullanguage,butIshookhandswithhim,andweparted.Hekepthisword;andfromthattimeforwardhehasbeenapatternofpropriety,asfarasIcantell;buttilllatelyIhavenothadverymuchtodowithhim.Heoccasionallysoughtmycompany,butasfrequentlyshrunkfromit,fearinglestI shouldwilehimback todestruction,and I foundhisnotveryentertaining,especiallyashesometimesattemptedtoawakenmyconscienceanddrawmefrom the perdition he considered himself to have escaped; but when I didhappen to meet him, I seldom failed to ask after the progress of hismatrimonial efforts and researches, and, in general, he could giveme but apoor account. The mothers were repelled by his empty coffers and hisreputationforgambling,andthedaughtersbyhiscloudybrowandmelancholytemper—besides, he didn’t understand them; he wanted the spirit andassurancetocarryhispoint.

‘IlefthimatitwhenIwenttothecontinent;andonmyreturn,attheyear’send, I found him still a disconsolate bachelor—though, certainly, lookingsomewhat less like an unblest exile from the tomb than before. The youngladieshadceasedtobeafraidofhim,andwerebeginningtothinkhimquiteinteresting; but themammaswere still unrelenting. It was about this time,Helen,thatmygoodangelbroughtmeintoconjunctionwithyou;andthenIhad eyes and ears for nobody else. But, meantime, Lowborough becameacquaintedwithourcharmingfriend,MissWilmot—throughtheinterventionofhisgoodangel,nodoubthewouldtellyou,thoughhedidnotdaretofixhishopesononesocourtedandadmired,tillaftertheywerebroughtintocloser

contact here at Staningley, and she, in the absence of her other admirers,indubitablycourtedhisnoticeandheldouteveryencouragementtohistimidadvances.Then,indeed,hebegantohopeforadawnofbrighterdays;andif,forawhile,Idarkenedhisprospectsbystandingbetweenhimandhissun—andsonearlyplungedhimagainintotheabyssofdespair—itonlyintensifiedhisardourandstrengthenedhishopeswhenIchosetoabandonthefieldinthepursuitofabrightertreasure.Inaword,asItoldyou,heisfairlybesotted.Atfirst, he could dimly perceive her faults, and they gave him considerableuneasiness; but now his passion and her art together have blinded him toeverythingbutherperfections andhis amazinggood fortune. Last nighthecametomebrimfulofhisnew-foundfelicity:

‘“Huntingdon,Iamnotacastaway!”saidhe,seizingmyhandandsqueezingitlikeavice.“Thereishappinessinstoreformeyet—eveninthislife—shelovesme!”

‘“Indeed!”saidI.“Hasshetoldyouso?”

‘“No,but Icanno longerdoubt it. Doyounot seehowpointedlykindandaffectionatesheis?Andsheknowstheutmostextentofmypoverty,andcaresnothingaboutit!Sheknowsallthefollyandallthewickednessofmyformerlife,andisnotafraidtotrustme—andmyrankandtitlearenoallurementstoher; for themsheutterlydisregards. She is themostgenerous,high-mindedbeing that can be conceived of. She will save me, body and soul, fromdestruction. Already,shehasennobledmeinmyownestimation,andmademethree timesbetter,wiser,greater thanIwas. Oh! if Ihadbutknownherbefore, howmuch degradation andmisery I should have been spared! ButwhathaveIdonetodeservesomagnificentacreature?”

‘Andthecreamofthejest,’continuedMr.Huntingdon,laughing,‘is,thattheartful minx loves nothing about him but his title and pedigree, and “thatdelightfuloldfamilyseat.”’

‘Howdoyouknow?’saidI.

‘She told me so herself; she said, “As for the man himself, I thoroughlydespisehim;but then,Isuppose, it is timetobemakingmychoice,andif Iwaited for some one capable of elicitingmy esteem and affection, I shouldhave topassmy life in singleblessedness, for I detest you all!” Ha, ha! Isuspect shewaswrong there;but,however, it isevident shehasno love forhim,poorfellow.’

‘Thenyououghttotellhimso.’

‘What!andspoilallherplansandprospects,poorgirl?No,no:thatwouldbeabreachofconfidence,wouldn’tit,Helen?Ha,ha!Besides,itwouldbreak

hisheart.’Andhelaughedagain.

‘Well,Mr.Huntingdon,Idon’tknowwhatyouseesoamazinglydivertinginthematter;Iseenothingtolaughat.’

‘I’mlaughingatyou,justnow,love,’saidhe,redoublinghismachinations.

Andleavinghimtoenjoyhismerrimentalone,ItouchedRubywiththewhip,andcanteredontorejoinourcompanions;forwehadbeenwalkingourhorsesall this time,andwereconsequentlyalongwaybehind. Arthurwassoonatmysideagain;butnotdisposedtotalktohim,Ibrokeintoagallop.Hedidthesame;andwedidnotslackenourpacetillwecameupwithMissWilmotand Lord Lowborough, which was within half a mile of the park-gates. Iavoidedallfurtherconversationwithhimtillwecametotheendofourride,whenImeanttojumpoffmyhorseandvanishintothehouse,beforehecouldofferhisassistance;butwhileIwasdisengagingmyhabitfromthecrutch,heliftedmeoff,andheldmebybothhands,assertingthathewouldnotletmegotillIhadforgivenhim.

‘Ihavenothingtoforgive,’saidI.‘Youhavenotinjuredme.’

‘No,darling—Godforbid that I should!butyouareangrybecause itwas tomethatAnnabellaconfessedherlackofesteemforherlover.’

‘No,Arthur, it isnot that thatdispleasesme: it is thewhole systemofyourconducttowardsyourfriend,andifyouwishmetoforgetit,gonow,andtellhimwhatsortofawomanitisthatheadoressomadly,andonwhomhehashunghishopesoffuturehappiness.’

‘I tellyou,Helen, itwouldbreakhisheart—itwouldbe thedeathofhim—besidesbeingascandaloustricktopoorAnnabella.Thereisnohelpforhimnow;heispastprayingfor.Besides,shemaykeepupthedeceptiontotheendof thechapter;and thenhewillbe justashappy in the illusionas if itwerereality; or perhaps hewill only discover hismistakewhen he has ceased toloveher;andifnot,itismuchbetterthatthetruthshoulddawngraduallyuponhim. So now, my angel, I hope I have made out a clear case, and fullyconvinced you that I cannot make the atonement you require. What otherrequisitionhaveyoutomake?Speak,andIwillgladlyobey.’

‘I havenonebut this,’ said I, as gravely as before: ‘that, in future, youwillnevermakea jestof the sufferingsofothers, andalwaysuseyour influencewith your friends for their own advantage against their evil propensities,insteadofsecondingtheirevilpropensitiesagainstthemselves.’

‘Iwilldomyutmost,’ saidhe, ‘to rememberandperform the injunctionsofmyangelmonitress;’andafterkissingbothmyglovedhands,heletmego.

WhenIenteredmyroom,Iwassurprised toseeAnnabellaWilmotstandingbeforemy toilet-table, composedly surveying her features in the glass,withonehand flirtinghergold-mountedwhip, and theotherholdingupher longhabit.

‘Shecertainlyisamagnificentcreature!’thoughtI,asIbeheldthattall,finelydevelopedfigure,andthereflectionofthehandsomefaceinthemirrorbeforeme,withtheglossydarkhair,slightlyandnotungracefullydisorderedbythebreezyride,therichbrowncomplexionglowingwithexercise,andtheblackeyessparklingwithunwontedbrilliance.Onperceivingme,sheturnedround,exclaiming,withalaughthatsavouredmoreofmalicethanofmirth,—‘Why,Helen! what have you been doing so long? I came to tell you my goodfortune,’shecontinued, regardlessofRachel’spresence. ‘LordLowboroughhasproposed,and Ihavebeengraciouslypleased toaccepthim. Don’tyouenvyme,dear?’

‘No, love,’saidI—‘orhimeither,’Imentallyadded. ‘Anddoyoulikehim,Annabella?’

‘Likehim!yes,tobesure—overheadandearsinlove!’

‘Well,Ihopeyou’llmakehimagoodwife.’

‘Thankyou,mydear!Andwhatbesidesdoyouhope?’

‘Ihopeyouwillbothloveeachother,andbothbehappy.’

‘Thanks;andIhopeyouwillmakeaverygoodwifetoMr.Huntingdon!’saidshe,withaqueenlybow,andretired.

‘Oh,Miss!howcouldyousaysotoher!’criedRachel.

‘Saywhat?’repliedI.

‘Why,thatyouhopedshewouldmakehimagoodwife.Ineverheardsuchathing!’

‘BecauseIdohopeit,orrather,Iwishit;she’salmostpasthope.’

‘Well,’ saidshe, ‘I’msure Ihopehe’llmakeheragoodhusband. They tellqueerthingsabouthimdownstairs.Theyweresaying—’

‘Iknow,Rachel.I’veheardallabouthim;buthe’sreformednow.Andtheyhavenobusinesstotelltalesabouttheirmasters.’

‘No,mum—orelse,theyhavesaidsomethingsaboutMr.Huntingdontoo.’‘Iwon’thearthem,Rachel;theytelllies.’

‘Yes,mum,’saidshe,quietly,asshewentonarrangingmyhair.

‘Doyoubelievethem,Rachel?’Iasked,afterashortpause.

‘No,Miss,notall.Youknowwhenalotofservantsgetstogethertheyliketotalkabouttheirbetters;andsome,forabitofswagger,likestomakeitappearasthoughtheyknewmorethantheydo,andtothrowouthintsandthingsjusttoastonishtheothers.ButIthink,ifIwasyou,MissHelen,I’dlookverywellbefore I leaped. I do believe a young lady can’t be too careful who shemarries.’

‘Ofcoursenot,’saidI;‘butbequick,willyou,Rachel?Iwanttobedressed.’

And,indeed,Iwasanxioustoberidofthegoodwoman,forIwasinsuchamelancholy frame I could hardly keep the tears out of my eyes while shedressedme. Itwasnot forLordLowborough—itwasnot forAnnabella—itwasnotformyself—itwasforArthurHuntingdonthattheyrose.

13th.—Theyaregone,andheisgone.Wearetobepartedformorethantwomonths,abovetenweeks!along,longtimetoliveandnottoseehim.Buthehas promised to write often, and made me promise to write still oftener,becausehewillbebusysettlinghisaffairs,andIshallhavenothingbettertodo.Well,IthinkIshallalwayshaveplentytosay.Butoh!forthetimewhenwe shall be always together, and can exchange our thoughts without theinterventionofthesecoldgo-betweens,pen,ink,andpaper!

22nd.—IhavehadseverallettersfromArthuralready.Theyarenotlong,butpassingsweet,andjustlikehimself,fullofardentaffection,andplayfullivelyhumour;butthereisalwaysa‘but’inthisimperfectworld,andIdowishhewouldsometimesbeserious.Icannotgethimtowriteorspeakinreal,solidearnest.Idon’tmuchminditnow,butifitbealwaysso,whatshallIdowiththeseriouspartofmyself?

CHAPTERXXIII

Feb.18,1822.—EarlythismorningArthurmountedhishunterandsetoffinhighgleetomeetthe—hounds.Hewillbeawayallday,andsoIwillamusemyselfwithmyneglecteddiary, if Icangive thatname tosuchan irregularcomposition.ItisexactlyfourmonthssinceIopeneditlast.

Iammarriednow,andsettleddownasMrs.HuntingdonofGrassdaleManor.Ihavehadeightweeks’experienceofmatrimony.AnddoIregretthestepIhavetaken?No,thoughImustconfess,inmysecretheart,thatArthurisnotwhat I thought him at first, and if I had known him in the beginning asthoroughlyasIdonow,Iprobablynevershouldhavelovedhim,andifIloved

himfirst,andthenmadethediscovery,IfearIshouldhavethoughtitmydutynottohavemarriedhim.TobesureImighthaveknownhim,foreveryonewaswillingenoughtotellmeabouthim,andhehimselfwasnoaccomplishedhypocrite,butIwaswilfullyblind;andnow,insteadofregrettingthatIdidnotdiscernhis fullcharacterbeforeIwas indissolublybound tohim, Iamglad,for ithas savedmeagreatdealofbattlingwithmyconscience, andagreatdealofconsequenttroubleandpain;and,whateverIoughttohavedone,mydutynowisplainlytolovehimandtocleavetohim,andthisjusttallieswithmyinclination.

He isvery fondofme,almost too fond. I coulddowith lesscaressingandmore rationality. I should like tobe lessof apet andmoreof a friend, if Imightchoose;butIwon’tcomplainofthat:Iamonlyafraidhisaffectionlosesindepthwhereitgains inardour. Isometimeslikenit toafireofdrytwigsandbranchescomparedwithoneof solidcoal,verybright andhot;but if itshouldburnitselfoutandleavenothingbutashesbehind,whatshallIdo?Butitwon’t,itsha’n’t,Iamdetermined;andsurelyIhavepowertokeepitalive.Soletmedismissthatthoughtatonce.ButArthurisselfish;Iamconstrainedtoacknowledgethat;and,indeed,theadmissiongivesmelesspainthanmightbeexpected,for,sinceIlovehimsomuch,Icaneasilyforgivehimforlovinghimself:helikestobepleased,anditismydelighttopleasehim;andwhenIregretthistendencyofhis,itisforhisownsake,notformine.

Thefirstinstancehegavewasontheoccasionofourbridaltour.Hewantedto hurry it over, for all the continental sceneswere already familiar to him:manyhadlosttheirinterestinhiseyes,andothershadneverhadanythingtolose. Theconsequencewas,thatafteraflyingtransit throughpartofFranceandpartof Italy, I camebacknearly as ignorant as Iwent,havingmadenoacquaintancewithpersonsandmanners,andverylittlewiththings,myheadswarming with a motley confusion of objects and scenes; some, it is true,leaving a deeper and more pleasing impression than others, but theseembitteredby the recollection thatmyemotionshadnotbeen sharedbymycompanion,butthat,onthecontrary,whenIhadexpressedaparticularinterestin anything that I saw or desired to see, it had been displeasing to him,inasmuchasitprovedthatIcouldtakedelightinanythingdisconnectedwithhimself.

AsforParis,weonlyjusttouchedatthat,andhewouldnotgivemetimetoseeone-tenthofthebeautiesandinterestingobjectsofRome. Hewantedtogetmehome,hesaid,tohavemealltohimself,andtoseemesafelyinstalledas the mistress of Grassdale Manor, just as single-minded, as naïve, andpiquante as I was; and as if I had been some frail butterfly, he expressedhimselffearfulofrubbingthesilveroffmywingsbybringingmeintocontactwith society, especially that of Paris andRome; and,more-over, he did not

scrupletotellmethattherewereladiesinbothplacesthatwouldtearhiseyesoutiftheyhappenedtomeethimwithme.

Of course Iwas vexed at all this; but still itwas less the disappointment tomyselfthatannoyedme,thanthedisappointmentinhim,andthetroubleIwasat to frame excuses to my friends for having seen and observed so little,withoutimputingoneparticleofblametomycompanion. Butwhenwegothome—tomynew,delightfulhome—IwassohappyandhewassokindthatIfreelyforgavehimall;andIwasbeginningtothinkmylottoohappy,andmyhusbandactuallytoogoodforme,ifnottoogoodforthisworld,when,onthesecond Sunday after our arrival, he shocked and horrified me by anotherinstance of his unreasonable exaction. We were walking home from themorningservice,foritwasafinefrostyday,andaswearesonearthechurch,Ihadrequestedthecarriageshouldnotbeused.

‘Helen,’saidhe,withunusualgravity,‘Iamnotquitesatisfiedwithyou.’

Idesiredtoknowwhatwaswrong.

‘ButwillyoupromisetoreformifItellyou?’

‘Yes,ifIcan,andwithoutoffendingahigherauthority.’

‘Ah!thereitis,yousee:youdon’tlovemewithallyourheart.’

‘Idon’tunderstandyou,Arthur (at least IhopeIdon’t):pray tellmewhat Ihavedoneorsaidamiss.’

‘Itisnothingyouhavedoneorsaid;itissomethingthatyouare—youaretooreligious.NowIlikeawomantobereligious,andIthinkyourpietyoneofyourgreatestcharms;butthen,likeallothergoodthings,itmaybecarriedtoofar. Tomythinking,awoman’s religionoughtnot to lessenherdevotion toherearthly lord. Sheshouldhaveenough topurifyandetherealisehersoul,but not enough to refine away her heart, and raise her above all humansympathies.’

‘AndamIaboveallhumansympathies?’saidI.

‘No,darling;butyouaremakingmoreprogresstowardsthatsaintlyconditionthanIlike;forallthesetwohoursIhavebeenthinkingofyouandwantingtocatchyoureye,andyouweresoabsorbedinyourdevotionsthatyouhadnotevenaglancetospareforme—Ideclareitisenoughtomakeonejealousofone’sMaker—which is verywrong, youknow; sodon’t excite suchwickedpassionsagain,formysoul’ssake.’

‘IwillgivemywholeheartandsoultomyMakerifIcan,’Ianswered,‘andnotoneatommoreof it toyou thanHeallows. Whatareyou, sir, thatyoushouldsetyourselfupasagod,andpresumetodisputepossessionofmyheart

withHimtowhomIoweallIhaveandallIam,everyblessingIeverdidorevercanenjoy—andyourselfamongtherest—ifyouareablessing,whichIamhalfinclinedtodoubt.’

‘Don’t be so hard upon me, Helen; and don’t pinch my arm so: you aresqueezingyourfingersintothebone.’

‘Arthur,’continuedI,relaxingmyholdofhisarm,‘youdon’tlovemehalfasmuchasIdoyou;andyet,ifyoulovedmefarlessthanyoudo,Iwouldnotcomplain,providedyoulovedyourMakermore.Ishouldrejoicetoseeyouatany time so deeply absorbed in your devotions that you had not a singlethoughttospareforme.But,indeed,Ishouldlosenothingbythechange,forthemoreyoulovedyourGodthemoredeepandpureandtruewouldbeyourlovetome.’

At thisheonly laughedandkissedmyhand,callingmea sweetenthusiast.Thentakingoffhishat,headded:‘Butlookhere,Helen—whatcanamandowithsuchaheadasthis?’

Theheadlookedrightenough,butwhenheplacedmyhandonthetopofit,itsunkinabedofcurls,ratheralarminglylow,especiallyinthemiddle.

‘YouseeIwasnotmadetobeasaint,’saidhe,laughing,‘IfGodmeantmetobereligious,whydidn’tHegivemeaproperorganofveneration?’

‘Youareliketheservant,’Ireplied,‘who,insteadofemployinghisonetalentinhismaster’sservice,restoredittohimunimproved,alleging,asanexcuse,that he knew him “to be a hardman, reapingwhere he had not sown, andgatheringwherehehadnotstrawed.”Ofhimtowhomlessisgiven,lesswillbe required, but our utmost exertions are required of us all. You are notwithout the capacity of veneration, and faith and hope, and conscience andreason, and everyother requisite to aChristian’s character, if you choose toemploythem;butallourtalentsincreaseintheusing,andeveryfaculty,bothgoodandbad,strengthensbyexercise:therefore,ifyouchoosetousethebad,or thosewhich tend to evil, till they become yourmasters, and neglect thegoodtilltheydwindleaway,youhaveonlyyourselftoblame.Butyouhavetalents,Arthur—naturalendowmentsbothofheartandmindandtemper,suchasmanyabetterChristianwouldbegladtopossess,ifyouwouldonlyemploytheminGod’sservice. I shouldneverexpect toseeyouadevotee,but it isquite possible to be a goodChristianwithout ceasing to be a happy,merry-heartedman.’

‘You speak like an oracle, Helen, and all you say is indisputably true; butlistenhere:Iamhungry,andIseebeforemeagoodsubstantialdinner;IamtoldthatifIabstainfromthisto-dayIshallhaveasumptuousfeastto-morrow,consistingofallmannerofdaintiesanddelicacies. Now,inthefirstplace,I

shouldbelothtowaittillto-morrowwhenIhavethemeansofappeasingmyhungeralreadybeforeme:inthesecondplace,thesolidviandsofto-dayaremoretomytastethanthedaintiesthatarepromisedme;inthethirdplace,Idon’tseeto-morrow’sbanquet,andhowcanItellthatitisnotallafable,gotupby thegreasy-faced fellow that isadvisingme toabstain inorder thathemayhaveallthegoodvictualstohimself?inthefourthplace,thistablemustbespreadforsomebody,and,asSolomonsays,“Whocaneat,orwhoelsecanhastenhereuntomore thanI?”andfinally,withyour leave, I’llsitdownandsatisfymy cravings of to-day, and leave to-morrow to shift for itself—whoknowsbutwhatImaysecureboththisandthat?’

‘Butyouarenotrequiredtoabstainfromthesubstantialdinnerofto-day:youareonlyadvisedtopartakeofthesecoarserviandsinsuchmoderationasnotto incapacitate you from enjoying the choicer banquet of to-morrow. If,regardlessof that counsel,youchoose tomakeabeastofyourselfnow,andover-eat and over-drink yourself till you turn the good victuals into poison,who is to blame if, hereafter, while you are suffering the torments ofyesterday’s gluttony and drunkenness, you see more temperate men sittingdowntoenjoythemselvesatthatsplendidentertainmentwhichyouareunabletotaste?’

‘Most true, my patron saint; but again, our friend Solomon says, “There isnothingbetterforamanthantoeatandtodrink,andtobemerry.”’

‘Andagain,’ returned I, ‘he says, “Rejoice,Oyoungman, in thyyouth;andwalkinthewaysofthineheart,andinthesightofthineeyes:butknowthou,thatforallthesethingsGodwillbringtheeintojudgment.”’

‘Well,but,Helen,I’msureI’vebeenverygoodtheselastfewweeks. Whathaveyouseenamissinme,andwhatwouldyouhavemetodo?’

‘Nothingmore than you do, Arthur: your actions are all right so far; but Iwould have your thoughts changed; I would have you to fortify yourselfagainsttemptation,andnottocallevilgood,andgoodevil;Ishouldwishyoutothinkmoredeeply,tolookfurther,andaimhigherthanyoudo.’

CHAPTERXXIV

March25th.—Arthurisgettingtired—notofme,Itrust,butoftheidle,quietlife he leads—and nowonder, for he has so few sources of amusement: henever reads anything but newspapers and sportingmagazines; andwhen heseesme occupied with a book, he won’t let me rest till I close it. In fineweatherhegenerallymanagestogetthroughthetimeprettywell,butonrainy

days,ofwhichwehavehadagoodmanyoflate,itisquitepainfultowitnesshisennui.IdoallIcantoamusehim,butitisimpossibletogethimtofeelinterestedinwhatImostliketotalkabout,while,ontheotherhand,helikesto talk about things that cannot interest me—or even that annoy me—andthesepleasehim—themostofall:forhisfavouriteamusementistositorlollbesidemeonthesofa,andtellmestoriesofhisformeramours,alwaysturningupon the ruin of some confiding girl or the cozening of some unsuspectinghusband;andwhenIexpressmyhorrorand indignation,he lays itall to thechargeofjealousy,andlaughstillthetearsrundownhischeeks.Iusedtoflyintopassionsormeltintotearsatfirst,butseeingthathisdelightincreasedinproportiontomyangerandagitation,Ihavesinceendeavouredtosuppressmyfeelingsandreceivehisrevelationsinthesilenceofcalmcontempt;butstillhereadstheinwardstruggleinmyface,andmisconstruesmybitternessofsoulfor his unworthiness into the pangs ofwounded jealousy; andwhen he hassufficientlydivertedhimselfwiththat,orfearsmydispleasurewillbecometooseriousforhiscomfort,hetriestokissandsoothemeintosmilesagain—neverwere his caresses so little welcome as then! This is double selfishnessdisplayedtomeandtothevictimsofhisformerlove.Therearetimeswhen,withamomentarypang—aflashofwilddismay, Iaskmyself, ‘Helen,whathaveyoudone?’ButIrebuketheinwardquestioner,andrepeltheobtrusivethoughts that crowd upon me; for were he ten times as sensual andimpenetrable to good and lofty thoughts, I well know I have no right tocomplain.AndIdon’tandwon’tcomplain.Idoandwilllovehimstill;andIdonotandwillnotregretthatIhavelinkedmyfatewithhis.

April4th.—Wehavehadadownrightquarrel.Theparticularsareasfollows:Arthurhadtoldme,atdifferentintervals,thewholestoryofhisintriguewithLady F—, which I would not believe before. It was some consolation,however,tofindthatinthisinstancetheladyhadbeenmoretoblamethanhe,for he was very young at the time, and she had decidedly made the firstadvances,ifwhathesaidwastrue.Ihatedherforit,foritseemedasifshehadchieflycontributedtohiscorruption;andwhenhewasbeginningtotalkabouthertheotherday,Ibeggedhewouldnotmentionher,forIdetestedtheverysoundofhername.

‘Not because you loved her,Arthur,mind, but because she injured you anddeceivedherhusband,andwasaltogetheraveryabominablewoman,whomyououghttobeashamedtomention.’

Buthedefendedherbysayingthatshehadadotingoldhusband,whomitwasimpossibletolove.

‘Thenwhydidshemarryhim?’saidI.

‘Forhismoney,’wasthereply.

‘Thenthatwasanothercrime,andhersolemnpromisetoloveandhonourhimwasanother,thatonlyincreasedtheenormityofthelast.’

‘Youaretoosevereuponthepoorlady,’laughedhe.‘Butnevermind,Helen,Idon’tcareforhernow;andIneverlovedanyofthemhalfasmuchasIdoyou,soyouneedn’tfeartobeforsakenlikethem.’

‘Ifyouhadtoldmethesethingsbefore,Arthur,Inevershouldhavegivenyouthechance.’

‘Wouldn’tyou,mydarling?’

‘Mostcertainlynot!’

Helaughedincredulously.

‘IwishIcouldconvinceyouofitnow!’criedI,startingupfrombesidehim:andforthefirsttimeinmylife,andIhopethelast,IwishedIhadnotmarriedhim.

‘Helen,’ said he, more gravely, ‘do you know that if I believed you now Ishouldbeveryangry?butthankheavenIdon’t.Thoughyoustandtherewithyourwhitefaceandflashingeyes,lookingatmelikeaverytigress,Iknowtheheartwithinyouperhapsatriflebetterthanyouknowityourself.’

Without another word I left the room and locked myself up in my ownchamber. In about half an hour he came to the door, and first he tried thehandle,thenheknocked.

‘Won’t you let me in, Helen?’ said he. ‘No; you have displeased me,’ Ireplied, ‘and I don’twant to see your face or hear your voice again till themorning.’

He paused amoment as if dumfounded or uncertain how to answer such aspeech,andthenturnedandwalkedaway.Thiswasonlyanhourafterdinner:I knew he would find it very dull to sit alone all the evening; and thisconsiderablysoftenedmyresentment,thoughitdidnotmakemerelent.Iwasdetermined to show him that my heart was not his slave, and I could livewithouthimifIchose;andIsatdownandwrotealonglettertomyaunt,ofcoursetellinghernothingofallthis.Soonafterteno’clockIheardhimcomeupagain,buthepassedmydoorandwentstraighttohisowndressing-room,whereheshuthimselfinforthenight.

Iwasratheranxioustoseehowhewouldmeetmeinthemorning,andnotalittle disappointed to behold him enter the breakfast-room with a carelesssmile.

‘Areyoucrossstill,Helen?’saidhe,approachingasiftosaluteme.Icoldly

turned to the table, andbegan topourout the coffee, observing that hewasratherlate.

Heuttereda lowwhistleandsaunteredawayto thewindow,wherehestoodforsomeminuteslookingoutuponthepleasingprospectofsullengreyclouds,streaming rain, soaking lawn, and dripping leafless trees, and mutteringexecrationsontheweather,andthensatdowntobreakfast.Whiletakinghiscoffeehemuttereditwas‘d—dcold.’

‘Youshouldnothaveleftitsolong,’saidI.

Hemadenoanswer,andthemealwasconcludedinsilence.Itwasarelieftoboth when the letter-bag was brought in. It contained upon examination anewspaperandoneortwolettersforhim,andacoupleoflettersforme,whichhe tossedacross the tablewithout a remark. Onewas frommybrother, theotherfromMilicentHargrave,whoisnowinLondonwithhermother.His,Ithink, were business letters, and apparently not much to his mind, for hecrushedthemintohispocketwithsomemutteredexpletivesthatIshouldhavereproved him for at any other time. The paper he set before him, andpretended to be deeply absorbed in its contents during the remainder ofbreakfast,andaconsiderabletimeafter.

The reading and answering of my letters, and the direction of householdconcerns, affordedmeample employment for themorning: after lunch Igotmydrawing, and fromdinner till bed-time I read. Meanwhile, poorArthurwas sadly at a loss for something to amuse himor to occupy his time. HewantedtoappearasbusyandasunconcernedasIdid.Hadtheweatheratallpermitted, he would doubtless have ordered his horse and set off to somedistantregion,nomatterwhere,immediatelyafterbreakfast,andnotreturnedtill night: had therebeena ladyanywherewithin reach,of anyagebetweenfifteenandforty-five,hewouldhavesoughtrevengeandfoundemploymentingettingup,ortryingtogetup,adesperateflirtationwithher;butbeing,tomyprivatesatisfaction,entirelycutoff fromboth thesesourcesofdiversion,hissufferingsweretrulydeplorable.Whenhehaddoneyawningoverhispaperandscribbling short answers tohis shorter letters,he spent the remainderofthemorningand thewholeof theafternoon in fidgetingabout fromroomtoroom,watchingtheclouds,cursingtherain,alternatelypettingandteasingandabusinghisdogs,sometimes loungingon thesofawithabook thathecouldnotforcehimselftoread,andveryoftenfixedlygazingatmewhenhethoughtIdidnotperceiveit,withthevainhopeofdetectingsometracesof tears,orsometokensofremorsefulanguishinmyface.ButImanagedtopreserveanundisturbedthoughgraveserenitythroughouttheday.Iwasnotreallyangry:I felt forhimall the time, and longed tobe reconciled;but I determinedheshouldmakethefirstadvances,oratleastshowsomesignsofanhumbleand

contrite spirit first; for, if Ibegan, itwouldonlyminister tohis self-conceit,increasehisarrogance,andquitedestroythelessonIwantedtogivehim.

He made a long stay in the dining-room after dinner, and, I fear, took anunusual quantityofwine, but not enough to loosenhis tongue: forwhenhecameinandfoundmequietlyoccupiedwithmybook,toobusytoliftmyheadon his entrance, he merely murmured an expression of suppresseddisapprobation,and,shuttingthedoorwithabang,wentandstretchedhimselfat full lengthon the sofa, andcomposedhimself to sleep. Buthis favouritecocker,Dash,thathadbeenlyingatmyfeet,tookthelibertyofjumpinguponhimandbeginningtolickhisface.Hestruckitoffwithasmartblow,andthepoordogsqueakedand rancoweringback tome. Whenhewokeup,abouthalfanhourafter,hecalledittohimagain,butDashonlylookedsheepishandwaggedthetipofhistail.Hecalledagainmoresharply,butDashonlyclungtheclosertome,andlickedmyhand,asifimploringprotection.Enragedatthis,hismastersnatchedupaheavybookandhurleditathishead.Thepoordogsetupapiteousoutcry,andrantothedoor.Ilethimout,andthenquietlytookupthebook.

‘Give thatbook tome,’ saidArthur, innoverycourteous tone. Igave it tohim.

‘Whydidyouletthedogout?’heasked;‘youknewIwantedhim.’

‘Bywhattoken?’Ireplied;‘byyourthrowingthebookathim?butperhapsitwasintendedforme?’

‘No;butIseeyou’vegotatasteofit,’saidhe,lookingatmyhand,thathadalsobeenstruck,andwasratherseverelygrazed.

Ireturnedtomyreading,andheendeavouredtooccupyhimself inthesamemanner;butinalittlewhile,afterseveralportentousyawns,hepronouncedhisbooktobe‘cursedtrash,’andthrewitonthetable.Thenfollowedeightortenminutesofsilence,duringthegreaterpartofwhich,Ibelieve,hewasstaringatme.Atlasthispatiencewastiredout.

‘Whatisthatbook,Helen?’heexclaimed.

Itoldhim.

‘Isitinteresting?’

‘Yes,very.’

Iwentonreading,orpretendingtoread,atleast—Icannotsaytherewasmuchcommunicationbetweenmyeyesandmybrain;for,whiletheformerranoverthepages,thelatterwasearnestlywonderingwhenArthurwouldspeaknext,andwhathewouldsay,andwhatIshouldanswer.Buthedidnotspeakagain

tillIrosetomakethetea,andthenitwasonlytosayheshouldnottakeany.He continued lounging on the sofa, and alternately closing his eyes andlookingathiswatchandatme,tillbed-time,whenIrose,andtookmycandleandretired.

‘Helen!’criedhe, themoment Ihad left the room. I turnedback,andstoodawaitinghiscommands.

‘Whatdoyouwant,Arthur?’Isaidatlength.

‘Nothing,’repliedhe.‘Go!’

Iwent,buthearinghimmuttersomethingasIwasclosingthedoor,I turnedagain.Itsoundedverylike‘confoundedslut,’butIwasquitewillingitshouldbesomethingelse.

‘Wereyouspeaking,Arthur?’Iasked.

‘No,’wastheanswer,andIshutthedooranddeparted.Isawnothingmoreofhim till the followingmorningatbreakfast,whenhecamedowna fullhouraftertheusualtime.

‘You’reverylate,’wasmymorning’ssalutation.

‘Youneedn’thavewaitedforme,’washis;andhewalkeduptothewindowagain.Itwasjustsuchweatherasyesterday.

‘Oh,thisconfoundedrain!’hemuttered.But,afterstudiouslyregardingitfora minute or two, a bright idea, seemed to strike him, for he suddenlyexclaimed,‘ButIknowwhatI’lldo!’andthenreturnedandtookhisseatatthetable.Theletter-bagwasalreadythere,waitingtobeopened.Heunlockeditandexaminedthecontents,butsaidnothingaboutthem.

‘Isthereanythingforme?’Iasked.

‘No.’

Heopenedthenewspaperandbegantoread.

‘You’dbettertakeyourcoffee,’suggestedI;‘itwillbecoldagain.’

‘Youmaygo,’saidhe,‘ifyou’vedone;Idon’twantyou.’

Iroseandwithdrewtothenextroom,wonderingifweweretohaveanothersuchmiserable day as yesterday, andwishing intensely for an end of thesemutually inflicted torments. Shortlyafter Iheardhimring thebellandgivesome orders about his wardrobe that sounded as if he meditated a longjourney. He then sent for the coachman, and I heard something about thecarriageandthehorses,andLondon,andseveno’clockto-morrowmorning,thatstartledanddisturbedmenotalittle.

‘ImustnotlethimgotoLondon,whatevercomesofit,’saidItomyself;‘hewill run into all kinds of mischief, and I shall be the cause of it. But thequestionis,HowamItoalterhispurpose?Well,Iwillwaitawhile,andseeifhementionsit.’

Iwaitedmost anxiously, fromhour tohour; butnot awordwas spoken, onthat or any other subject, to me. He whistled and talked to his dogs, andwanderedfromroomtoroom,muchthesameasonthepreviousday.AtlastIbegantothinkImustintroducethesubjectmyself,andwasponderinghowtobring it about,when John unwittingly came tomy reliefwith the followingmessagefromthecoachman:

‘Please, sir,Richard says oneof the horses has got a verybad cold, andhethinks, sir, if you could make it convenient to go the day after to-morrow,insteadofto-morrow,hecouldphysicitto-day,soas—’

‘Confoundhisimpudence!’interjectedthemaster.

‘Please,sir,hesaysitwouldbeadealbetterifyoucould,’persistedJohn,‘forhehopesthere’llbeachangeintheweathershortly,andhesaysit’snotlikely,whenahorseissobadwithacold,andphysickedandall—’

‘Deviltakethehorse!’criedthegentleman.‘Well,tellhimI’llthinkaboutit,’headded,afteramoment’sreflection.Hecastasearchingglanceatme,astheservant withdrew, expecting to see some token of deep astonishment andalarm; but, being previously prepared, I preserved an aspect of stoicalindifference. Hiscountenance fellashemetmysteadygaze,andhe turnedawayinveryobviousdisappointment,andwalkeduptothefire-place,wherehestoodinanattitudeofundisguiseddejection,leaningagainstthechimney-piecewithhisforeheadsunkuponhisarm.

‘Wheredoyouwanttogo,Arthur?’saidI.

‘ToLondon,’repliedhe,gravely.

‘Whatfor?’Iasked.

‘BecauseIcannotbehappyhere.’

‘Whynot?’

‘Becausemywifedoesn’tloveme.’

‘Shewouldloveyouwithallherheart,ifyoudeservedit.’

‘WhatmustIdotodeserveit?’

Thisseemedhumbleandearnestenough;andIwassomuchaffected,betweensorrow and joy, that I was obliged to pause a few seconds before I could

steadymyvoicetoreply.

‘If she gives you her heart,’ said I, ‘youmust take it, thankfully, and use itwell,andnotpullitinpieces,andlaughinherface,becauseshecannotsnatchitaway.’

Henowturnedround,andstoodfacingme,withhisbacktothefire.‘Come,then,Helen,areyougoingtobeagoodgirl?’saidhe.

This sounded rather too arrogant, and the smile that accompanied it did notplease me. I therefore hesitated to reply. Perhaps my former answer hadimpliedtoomuch:hehadheardmyvoicefalter,andmighthaveseenmebrushawayatear.

‘Areyougoingtoforgiveme,Helen?’heresumed,morehumbly.

‘Areyoupenitent?’Ireplied,steppinguptohimandsmilinginhisface.

‘Heart-broken!’ he answered, with a rueful countenance, yet with a merrysmilejustlurkingwithinhiseyesandaboutthecornersofhismouth;butthiscouldnot repulseme, and I flew intohis arms. He ferventlyembracedme,andthoughIshedatorrentoftears,IthinkIneverwashappierinmylifethanatthatmoment.

‘Then youwon’t go to London, Arthur?’ I said, when the first transport oftearsandkisseshadsubsided.

‘No,love,—unlessyouwillgowithme.’

‘Iwill,gladly,’Ianswered,‘ifyouthinkthechangewillamuseyou,andifyouwillputoffthejourneytillnextweek.’

Hereadilyconsented,butsaid therewasnoneedofmuchpreparation,asheshouldnotbeforstayinglong,forhedidnotwishmetobeLondonized,andtolosemycountryfreshnessandoriginalitybytoomuchintercoursewiththeladiesoftheworld.Ithoughtthisfolly;butIdidnotwishtocontradicthimnow: Imerelysaid that Iwasofverydomestichabits,ashewellknew,andhadnoparticularwishtominglewiththeworld.

SowearetogotoLondononMonday,thedayafterto-morrow.Itisnowfourdays since the terminationofourquarrel, and I amsure ithasdoneusbothgood:ithasmademelikeArthuragreatdealbetter,andmadehimbehaveagreatdealbetter tome. Hehasneveronceattemptedtoannoymesince,bythe most distant allusion to Lady F—, or any of those disagreeablereminiscencesofhisformerlife.IwishIcouldblotthemfrommymemory,or elsegethim to regard suchmatters in the same light as Ido. Well! it issomething,however,tohavemadehimseethattheyarenotfitsubjectsforaconjugaljest.Hemayseefurthersometime.Iwillputnolimitstomyhopes;

and,inspiteofmyaunt’sforebodingsandmyownunspokenfears,Itrustweshallbehappyyet.

CHAPTERXXV

OntheeighthofAprilwewenttoLondon,ontheeighthofMayIreturned,inobedience toArthur’swish; verymuch againstmy own, because I left himbehind. Ifhehadcomewithme, I shouldhavebeenveryglad togethomeagain, forhe ledmesucha roundof restlessdissipationwhile there, that, inthat short space of time, I was quite tired out. He seemed bent upondisplayingmetohisfriendsandacquaintancesinparticular,andthepublicingeneral,oneverypossibleoccasion,andtothegreatestpossibleadvantage.Itwas something to feel thatheconsideredmeaworthyobjectofpride;but Ipaid dear for the gratification: for, in the first place, to please him I had toviolatemycherishedpredilections,myalmostrootedprinciplesinfavourofaplain, dark, sober style of dress—I must sparkle in costly jewels and deckmyself out like a painted butterfly, just as I had, long since, determined Iwouldneverdo—andthiswasnotriflingsacrifice;inthesecondplace,Iwascontinuallystrainingtosatisfyhissanguineexpectationsanddohonourtohischoicebymygeneralconductanddeportment,andfearingtodisappointhimby some awkwardmisdemeanour, or some trait of inexperienced ignoranceabout the customs of society, especially when I acted the part of hostess,whichIwasnotunfrequentlycalledupon todo;and, in the thirdplace,as Iintimatedbefore,Iwasweariedofthethrongandbustle,therestlesshurryandceaseless change of a life so alien to all my previous habits. At last, hesuddenly discovered that the London air did not agree with me, and I waslanguishingformycountryhome,andmustimmediatelyreturntoGrassdale.

I laughingly assured him that the casewas not so urgent as he appeared tothink it, but I was quite willing to go home if he was. He replied that heshould be obliged to remain aweek or two longer, as he had business thatrequiredhispresence.

‘ThenIwillstaywithyou,’saidI.

‘ButIcan’tdowithyou,Helen,’washisanswer:‘aslongasyoustayIshallattendtoyouandneglectmybusiness.’

‘ButIwon’tletyou,’Ireturned;‘nowthatIknowyouhavebusinesstoattendto,Ishallinsistuponyourattendingtoit,andlettingmealone;and,totellthetruth,Ishallbegladofalittlerest.IcantakemyridesandwalksintheParkas usual; and your business cannot occupy all your time: I shall see you at

meal-times, and in the evenings at least, and that will be better than beingleaguesawayandneverseeingyouatall.’

‘But,mylove,Icannotletyoustay.HowcanIsettlemyaffairswhenIknowthatyouarehere,neglected—?’

‘I shall not feelmyself neglected:while you are doing your duty,Arthur, Ishall never complain of neglect. If you had told me before, that you hadanything todo, itwouldhavebeenhalfdonebefore this;andnowyoumustmakeupforlosttimebyredoubledexertions.Tellmewhatitis;andIwillbeyourtaskmaster,insteadofbeingahindrance.’

‘No, no,’ persisted the impracticable creature; ‘youmust go home,Helen; Imusthave thesatisfactionofknowingthatyouaresafeandwell, thoughfaraway. Yourbright eyes are faded, and that tender, delicatebloomhasquitedesertedyourcheek.’

‘Thatisonlywithtoomuchgaietyandfatigue.’

‘Itisnot,Itellyou;itistheLondonair:youarepiningforthefreshbreezesofyour countryhome, andyou shall feel thembeforeyouare twodaysolder.And remember your situation, dearest Helen; on your health, you know,dependsthehealth,ifnotthelife,ofourfuturehope.’

‘Thenyoureallywishtogetridofme?’

‘Positively, I do; and I will take you down myself to Grassdale, and thenreturn.Ishallnotbeabsentaboveaweekorfortnightatmost.’

‘ButifImustgo,Iwillgoalone:ifyoumuststay,itisneedlesstowasteyourtimeinthejourneythereandback.’

Buthedidnotliketheideaofsendingmealone.

‘Why,whathelplesscreaturedoyoutakemefor,’Ireplied,‘thatyoucannottrustmetogoahundredmilesinourowncarriage,withourownfootmanandamaidtoattendme?IfyoucomewithmeIshallassuredlykeepyou.Buttellme,Arthur,whatisthistiresomebusiness;andwhydidyounevermentionitbefore?’

‘Itisonlyalittlebusinesswithmylawyer,’saidhe;andhetoldmesomethingaboutapieceofpropertyhewanted tosell, inorder topayoffapartof theincumbrancesonhisestate;buteither theaccountwasa littleconfused,or Iwasratherdullofcomprehension,forIcouldnotclearlyunderstandhowthatshouldkeephimintownafortnightafterme.StilllesscanInowcomprehendhowitshouldkeephimamonth,foritisnearlythattimesinceIlefthim,andnosignsofhisreturnasyet.Ineveryletterhepromisestobewithmeinafewdays,andeverytimedeceivesme,ordeceiveshimself.Hisexcusesarevague

andinsufficient.Icannotdoubtthathehasgotamonghisformercompanionsagain.Oh,whydidIleavehim!Iwish—Idointenselywishhewouldreturn!

June 29th.—No Arthur yet; and for many days I have been looking andlonginginvainforaletter.Hisletters,whentheycome,arekind,iffairwordsandendearingepithetscangivethemaclaimtothetitle—butveryshort,andfulloftrivialexcusesandpromisesthatIcannottrust;andyethowanxiouslyIlook forward to them! how eagerly I open and devour one of those little,hastily-scribbledreturnsforthethreeorfourlongletters,hithertounanswered,hehashadfromme!

Oh,itiscrueltoleavemesolongalone!HeknowsIhavenoonebutRachelto speak to, for we have no neighbours here, except the Hargraves, whoseresidence I candimlydescry from theseupperwindowsembosomedamongthoselow,woodyhillsbeyondtheDale.IwasgladwhenIlearntthatMilicentwassonearus;andhercompanywouldbeasoothingsolacetomenow;butshe is still in townwith hermother; there is no one at theGrove but littleEsther and her French governess, for Walter is always away. I saw thatparagon of manly perfections in London: he seemed scarcely to merit theeulogiums of his mother and sister, though he certainly appeared moreconversable and agreeable than Lord Lowborough, more candid and high-minded than Mr. Grimsby, and more polished and gentlemanly than Mr.Hattersley,Arthur’sonlyotherfriendwhomhejudgedfittointroducetome.—Oh,Arthur,whywon’tyoucome?whywon’tyouwritetomeatleast?Youtalkedaboutmyhealth:howcanyouexpectme togatherbloomandvigourhere,pininginsolitudeandrestlessanxietyfromdaytoday?—Itwouldserveyourighttocomebackandfindmygoodlooksentirelywastedaway.Iwouldbegmyuncleandaunt,ormybrother,tocomeandseeme,butIdonotliketocomplainofmy loneliness to them, and indeed loneliness is the least ofmysufferings.Butwhatishe,doing—whatisitthatkeepshimaway?Itisthisever-recurringquestion,andthehorriblesuggestionsitraises,thatdistractme.

July3rd.—Mylastbitter letterhaswrung fromhimananswerat last,andarather longer one than usual; but still I don’t knowwhat tomakeof it. Heplayfullyabusesmefor thegallandvinegarofmylatesteffusion, tellsmeIcanhavenoconceptionofthemultitudinousengagementsthatkeephimaway,but avers that, in spite of themall, hewill assuredly bewithmebefore thecloseofnextweek;thoughitisimpossibleforamansocircumstancedasheistofixtheprecisedayofhisreturn:meantimeheexhortsmetotheexerciseofpatience, ‘that first of woman’s virtues,’ and desires me to remember thesaying,‘Absencemakestheheartgrowfonder,’andcomfortmyselfwiththeassurance that the longerhestaysaway thebetterheshall lovemewhenhereturns; and till he does return, he begs I will continue to write to himconstantly,for,thoughheissometimestooidleandoftentoobusytoanswer

mylettersastheycome,helikestoreceivethemdaily;andifIfulfilmythreatofpunishinghisseemingneglectbyceasingtowrite,heshallbesoangrythathe will do his utmost to forget me. He adds this piece of intelligencerespectingpoorMilicentHargrave:

‘YourlittlefriendMilicentislikely,beforelong,tofollowyourexample,andtakeuponher theyokeofmatrimony in conjunctionwith a friendofmine.Hattersley, you know, has not yet fulfilled his direful threat of throwing hispreciouspersonawayon thefirstoldmaid thatchose toevincea tendernessforhim;buthestillpreservesaresolutedeterminationtoseehimselfamarriedmanbeforetheyearisout.“Only,”saidhetome,“Imusthavesomebodythatwillletmehavemyownwayineverything—notlikeyourwife,Huntingdon:sheisacharmingcreature,butshelooksasifshehadawillofherown,andcouldplaythevixenuponoccasion”(Ithought“you’rerightthere,man,”butIdidn’t say so). “Imust have somegood, quiet soul thatwill letme just dowhatIlikeandgowhereIlike,keepathomeorstayaway,withoutawordofreproachorcomplaint;forIcan’tdowithbeingbothered.”“Well,”saidI,“Iknowsomebody thatwill suityou toa tee, ifyoudon’tcare formoney,andthat’s Hargrave’s sister, Milicent.” He desired to be introduced to herforthwith, for he said he had plenty of the needful himself, or should havewhen his old governor chose to quit the stage. So you see, Helen, I havemanagedprettywell,bothforyourfriendandmine.’

PoorMilicent! But I cannot imagine shewill ever be led to accept such asuitor—onesorepugnanttoallherideasofamantobehonouredandloved.

5th.—Alas! Iwasmistaken. Ihavegota long letter fromher thismorning,tellingmesheisalreadyengaged,andexpectstobemarriedbeforethecloseofthemonth.

‘Ihardlyknowwhattosayaboutit,’shewrites,‘orwhattothink.Totellyouthe truth, Helen, I don’t like the thoughts of it at all. If I am to be Mr.Hattersley’swife,Imusttrytolovehim;andIdotrywithallmymight;butIhavemadeverylittleprogressyet;andtheworstsymptomofthecaseis,thatthefurtherheisfrommethebetterIlikehim:hefrightensmewithhisabruptmanners and strange hectoring ways, and I dread the thoughts of marryinghim.“Thenwhyhaveyouacceptedhim?”youwillask;andIdidn’tknowIhadacceptedhim;butmammatellsmeIhave,andheseemstothinksotoo.Icertainlydidn’tmeantodoso;butIdidnotliketogivehimaflatrefusal,forfearmammashouldbegrievedandangry(forIknewshewishedmetomarryhim),andIwantedto talktoherfirstabout it:soIgavehimwhatI thoughtwas an evasive, half negative answer; but she says it was as good as anacceptance, and he would thinkme very capricious if I were to attempt todrawback—andindeedIwassoconfusedandfrightenedatthemoment,Ican

hardly tell what I said. And next time I saw him, he accosted me in allconfidenceashisaffiancedbride,andimmediatelybegantosettlematterswithmamma.Ihadnotcouragetocontradictthemthen,andhowcanIdoitnow?Icannot;theywouldthinkmemad.Besides,mammaissodelightedwiththeideaof thematch; she thinksshehasmanagedsowell forme;and Icannotbeartodisappointher.Idoobjectsometimes,andtellherwhatIfeel,butyoudon’t know how she talks. Mr. Hattersley, you know, is the son of a richbanker,andasEstherandIhavenofortunes,andWalterverylittle,ourdearmamma is very anxious to see us all well married, that is, united to richpartners.Itisnotmyideaofbeingwellmarried,butshemeansitallforthebest. She sayswhen I am safe off her hands itwill be such a relief to hermind;andsheassuresmeitwillbeagoodthingforthefamilyaswellasforme. Even Walter is pleased at the prospect, and when I confessed myreluctance to him, he said it was all childish nonsense. Do you think itnonsense,Helen?IshouldnotcareifIcouldseeanyprospectofbeingabletoloveandadmirehim,but Ican’t. There isnothingabouthim tohangone’sesteemandaffectionupon;heissodiametricallyoppositetowhatIimaginedmyhusbandshouldbe.Dowritetome,andsayallyoucantoencourageme.Don’t attempt to dissuade me, for my fate is fixed: preparations for theimportanteventarealreadygoingonaroundme;anddon’tsayawordagainstMr. Hattersley, for I want to think well of him; and though I have spokenagainsthimmyself,itisforthelasttime:hereafter,Ishallneverpermitmyselfto utter a word in his dispraise, however he may seem to deserve it; andwhoeverventurestospeakslightinglyofthemanIhavepromisedtolove,tohonour,andobey,mustexpectmyseriousdispleasure.Afterall,IthinkheisquiteasgoodasMr.Huntingdon,ifnotbetter;andyetyoulovehim,andseemtobehappyandcontented;andperhapsImaymanageaswell.Youmusttellme,ifyoucan,thatMr.Hattersleyisbetterthanheseems—thatheisupright,honourable, and open-hearted—in fact, a perfect diamond in the rough. Hemaybeallthis,butIdon’tknowhim.Iknowonlytheexterior,andwhat,Itrust,istheworstpartofhim.’

She concludeswith ‘Good-by,dearHelen. I amwaiting anxiously foryouradvice—butmindyouletitbeallontherightside.’

Alas! poorMilicent,what encouragement can I giveyou?orwhat advice—except that it is better tomake a bold stand now, though at the expense ofdisappointingandangeringbothmotherandbrotherandlover,thantodevoteyourwholelife,hereafter,tomiseryandvainregret?

Saturday,13th.—Theweekisover,andheisnotcome.Allthesweetsummerispassingawaywithoutonebreathofpleasuretomeorbenefittohim.AndIhadallalongbeenlookingforwardtothisseasonwiththefond,delusivehopethatweshouldenjoyitsosweetlytogether;andthat,withGod’shelpandmy

exertions,itwouldbethemeansofelevatinghismind,andrefininghistastetoadueappreciationofthesalutaryandpuredelightsofnature,andpeace,andholy love. Butnow—atevening,when I see the round red sun sinkquietlydownbehindthosewoodyhills,leavingthemsleepinginawarm,red,goldenhaze, Ionly thinkanother lovelyday is lost tohimandme;andatmorning,whenrousedbytheflutterandchirpofthesparrows,andthegleefultwitteroftheswallows—allintentuponfeedingtheiryoung,andfulloflifeandjoyintheirownlittleframes—Iopenthewindowtoinhalethebalmy,soul-revivingair,andlookoutuponthelovelylandscape,laughingindewandsunshine—Itoooftenshamethatgloriousscenewithtearsofthanklessmisery,becausehecannotfeelitsfresheninginfluence;andwhenIwanderintheancientwoods,andmeetthelittlewildflowerssmilinginmypath,orsitintheshadowofournoble ash-trees by thewater-side,with their branches gently swaying in thelightsummerbreezethatmurmursthroughtheirfeatheryfoliage—myearsfullof that low music mingled with the dreamy hum of insects, my eyesabstractedlygazingontheglassysurfaceofthelittlelakebeforeme,withthetrees that crowd about its bank, some gracefully bending to kiss itswaters,some rearing their stately heads high above, but stretching their wide armsover its margin, all faithfully mirrored far, far down in its glassy depth—though sometimes the images are partially broken by the sport of aquaticinsects, and sometimes, for amoment, thewhole is shivered into tremblingfragments by a transient breeze that sweeps the surface too roughly—still Ihavenopleasure;forthegreaterthehappinessthatnaturesetsbeforeme,themore I lament that he is not here to taste it: the greater the blisswemightenjoy together, themore I feelourpresentwretchednessapart (yes,ours;hemustbewretched, thoughhemaynotknowit);and themoremysensesarepleased, themoremy heart is oppressed; for he keeps itwith him confinedamidthedustandsmokeofLondon—perhapsshutupwithinthewallsofhisownabominableclub.

Butmostofall,atnight,whenIentermylonelychamber,andlookoutuponthesummermoon,‘sweetregentof thesky,’floatingabovemeinthe‘blackbluevaultofheaven,’sheddingafloodofsilverradianceoverpark,andwood,andwater, so pure, so peaceful, so divine—and think,Where is he now?—whatishedoingatthismoment?whollyunconsciousofthisheavenlyscene—perhapsrevellingwithhisbooncompanions,perhaps—Godhelpme,itistoo—toomuch!

23rd.—Thank heaven, he is come at last! But how altered! flushed andfeverish,listlessandlanguid,hisbeautystrangelydiminished,hisvigourandvivacityquitedeparted.Ihavenotupbraidedhimbywordorlook;Ihavenotevenaskedhimwhathehasbeendoing. Ihavenot theheart todo it, for Ithinkheisashamedofhimself-hemustbesoindeed,andsuchinquiriescould

notfailtobepainfultoboth.Myforbearancepleaseshim—toucheshimeven,Iaminclinedtothink.Hesaysheisgladtobehomeagain,andGodknowshowgladIamtogethimback,evenasheis.Heliesonthesofa,nearlyalldaylong;andIplayandsingtohimforhourstogether.Iwritehislettersforhim, and get him everything he wants; and sometimes I read to him, andsometimes I talk,andsometimesonlysitbyhimandsoothehimwithsilentcaresses.Iknowhedoesnotdeserveit;andIfearIamspoilinghim;butthisonce,Iwillforgivehim,freelyandentirely.IwillshamehimintovirtueifIcan,andIwillneverlethimleavemeagain.

He ispleasedwithmyattentions—itmaybe,grateful for them. He likes tohavemenearhim:andthoughheispeevishandtestywithhisservantsandhisdogs, he is gentle and kind to me. What he would be, if I did not sowatchfullyanticipatehiswants,andsocarefullyavoid,orimmediatelydesistfrom doing anything that has a tendency to irritate or disturb him, withhoweverlittlereason,Icannottell. HowintenselyIwishhewereworthyofallthiscare!Lastnight,asIsatbesidehim,withhisheadinmylap,passingmy fingers throughhis beautiful curls, this thoughtmademy eyes overflowwithsorrowfultears—asitoftendoes;butthistime,atearfellonhisfaceandmadehimlookup.Hesmiled,butnotinsultingly.

‘DearHelen!’hesaid—‘whydoyoucry?youknowthatI loveyou’(andhepressedmyhandtohisfeverishlips),‘andwhatmorecouldyoudesire?’

‘Only,Arthur, thatyouwould loveyourselfas trulyandas faithfullyasyouarelovedbyme.’

‘Thatwouldbehard,indeed!’hereplied,tenderlysqueezingmyhand.

August24th.—Arthurishimselfagain,aslustyandreckless,aslightofheartand head as ever, and as restless and hard to amuse as a spoilt child, andalmostasfullofmischieftoo,especiallywhenwetweatherkeepshimwithindoors. Iwish he had something to do, some useful trade, or profession, oremployment—anythingtooccupyhisheadorhishandsforafewhoursaday,andgivehimsomethingbesideshisownpleasuretothinkabout.Ifhewouldplaythecountrygentlemanandattendtothefarm—butthatheknowsnothingabout,andwon’tgivehismindtoconsider,—orifhewouldtakeupwithsomeliterarystudy,orlearntodrawortoplay—asheissofondofmusic,Ioftentryto persuade him to learn the piano, but he is far too idle for such anundertaking:hehasnomore ideaof exertinghimself toovercomeobstaclesthanhehasof restraininghisnatural appetites; and these two things are theruinofhim.Ilaythembothtothechargeofhisharshyetcarelessfather,andhis madly indulgent mother.—If ever I am amother I will zealously striveagainstthiscrimeofover-indulgence.IcanhardlygiveitamildernamewhenIthinkoftheevilsitbrings.

Happily, itwillsoonbetheshootingseason,andthen, if theweatherpermit,hewillfindoccupationenoughinthepursuitanddestructionofthepartridgesandpheasants:wehavenogrouse,orhemighthavebeensimilarlyoccupiedatthismoment,insteadoflyingundertheacacia-treepullingpoorDash’sears.Buthesaysitisdullworkshootingalone;hemusthaveafriendortwotohelphim.

‘Let thembe tolerablydecent then,Arthur,’ said I. Theword ‘friend’ inhismouthmakesme shudder: I know itwas some of his ‘friends’ that inducedhimtostaybehindme inLondon,andkepthimawayso long: indeed, fromwhathehasunguardedlytoldme,orhintedfromtimetotime,Icannotdoubtthathefrequentlyshowedthemmyletters,toletthemseehowfondlyhiswifewatchedoverhisinterests,andhowkeenlysheregrettedhisabsence;andthattheyinducedhimtoremainweekafterweek,andtoplungeintoallmannerofexcesses, to avoid being laughed at for awife-ridden fool, and, perhaps, toshow how far he could venture to go without danger of shaking the fondcreature’sdevotedattachment.Itisahatefulidea,butIcannotbelieveitisafalseone.

‘Well,’ replied he, ‘I thought of Lord Lowborough for one; but there is nopossibilityofgettinghimwithouthisbetterhalf,ourmutualfriend,Annabella;sowemustaskthemboth.You’renotafraidofher,areyou,Helen?’heasked,withamischievoustwinkleinhiseyes.

‘Ofcoursenot,’Ianswered:‘whyshouldI?Andwhobesides?’

‘Hargraveforone.Hewillbegladtocome,thoughhisownplaceissonear,forhehaslittleenoughlandofhisowntoshootover,andwecanextendourdepredations into it, ifwe like; andhe is thoroughly respectable, youknow,Helen—quite a lady’sman: and I think,Grimsby for another: he’s adecent,quietfellowenough.You’llnotobjecttoGrimsby?’

‘Ihatehim:but,however,ifyouwishit,I’ll trytoendurehispresenceforawhile.’

‘Allaprejudice,Helen,amerewoman’santipathy.’

‘No;Ihavesolidgroundsformydislike.Andisthatall?’

‘Why,yes,Ithinkso.Hattersleywillbetoobusybillingandcooing,withhisbride to havemuch time to spare for guns anddogs at present,’ he replied.And that remindsme, that Ihavehadseveral letters fromMilicentsincehermarriage,andthatsheeitheris,orpretendstobe,quitereconciledtoherlot.She professes to have discovered numberless virtues and perfections in herhusband, some of which, I fear, less partial eyes would fail to distinguish,thoughtheysoughtthemcarefullywithtears;andnowthatsheisaccustomed

tohis loudvoice,andabrupt,uncourteousmanners,sheaffirmsshefindsnodifficulty in lovinghimasawife shoulddo, andbegs Iwillburn that letterwhereinshespokesounadvisedlyagainsthim.SothatItrustshemayyetbehappy; but, if she is, it will be entirely the reward of her own goodness ofheart; for had she chosen to consider herself the victim of fate, or of hermother’sworldlywisdom,shemighthavebeenthoroughlymiserable;andif,forduty’ssake,shehadnotmadeeveryefforttoloveherhusband,shewould,doubtless,havehatedhimtotheendofherdays.

CHAPTERXXVI

Sept. 23rd.—Our guests arrived about three weeks ago. Lord and LadyLowborough have nowbeenmarried above eightmonths; and Iwill do theladythecredit tosaythatherhusbandisquiteanalteredman;hislooks,hisspirits, andhis temper, are all perceptibly changed for thebetter since I lastsawhim.Butthereisroomforimprovementstill.Heisnotalwayscheerful,nor always contented, and she often complains of his ill-humour, which,however,ofallpersons,sheoughttobethelasttoaccusehimof,asheneverdisplaysitagainsther,exceptforsuchconductaswouldprovokeasaint.Headoresherstill,andwouldgototheworld’sendtopleaseher.Sheknowsherpower,andsheusesittoo;butwellknowingthattowheedleandcoaxissaferthan to command, she judiciously tempers her despotism with flattery andblandishments enough to make him deem himself a favoured and a happyman.

Butshehasawayoftormentinghim,inwhichIamafellow-sufferer,ormightbe, if I chose to regard myself as such. This is by openly, but not tooglaringly, coquetting with Mr. Huntingdon, who is quite willing to be herpartnerinthegame;butIdon’tcareforit,because,withhim,Iknowthereisnothingbutpersonalvanity,andamischievousdesire toexcitemy jealousy,and,perhaps,totormenthisfriend;andshe,nodoubt,isactuatedbymuchthesamemotives; only, there is more of malice and less of playfulness in hermanoeuvres.Itisobviously,therefore,myinteresttodisappointthemboth,asfar as I am concerned, by preserving a cheerful, undisturbed serenitythroughout;and,accordingly,Iendeavourtoshowthefullestconfidenceinmyhusband,andthegreatestindifferencetotheartsofmyattractiveguest.Ihavenever reproached the former but once, and that was for laughing at LordLowborough’s depressed and anxious countenance one evening, when theyhadbothbeenparticularlyprovoking;andthen,indeed,Isaidagooddealonthe subject, and rebukedhimsternlyenough;butheonly laughed, and said,—‘Youcanfeelforhim,Helen,can’tyou?’

‘I can feel for anyone that is unjustly treated,’ I replied, ‘and I can feel forthosethatinjurethemtoo.’

‘Why,Helen,youareasjealousasheis!’criedhe,laughingstillmore;andIfounditimpossibletoconvincehimofhismistake.So,fromthattime,Ihavecarefully refrained from any notice of the subject whatever, and left LordLowboroughtotakecareofhimself.Heeitherhasnotthesenseorthepowertofollowmyexample,thoughhedoestrytoconcealhisuneasinessaswellashecan;butstill,itwillappearinhisface,andhisill-humourwillpeepoutatintervals,thoughnotintheexpressionofopenresentment—theynevergofarenough for that. But I confess I do feel jealous at times, most painfully,bitterlyso;whenshesingsandplaystohim,andhehangsovertheinstrument,and dwells upon her voice with no affected interest; for then I know he isreallydelighted,andIhavenopowertoawakensimilarfervour.Icanamuseandpleasehimwithmysimplesongs,butnotdelighthimthus.

28th.—Yesterday,we allwent to theGrove,Mr.Hargrave’smuch-neglectedhome.Hismotherfrequentlyasksusover,thatshemayhavethepleasureofherdearWalter’scompany;andthistimeshehadinvitedustoadinner-party,andgottogetherasmanyofthecountrygentryaswerewithinreachtomeetus. The entertainmentwas verywell got up; but I could not help thinkingabout the cost of it all the time. I don’t likeMrs.Hargrave; she is a hard,pretentious, worldly-minded woman. She has money enough to live verycomfortably,ifsheonlyknewhowtouseitjudiciously,andhadtaughthersonto do the same; but she is ever straining to keep up appearances, with thatdespicablepridethatshunsthesemblanceofpovertyasofashamefulcrime.She grinds her dependents, pinches her servants, and deprives even herdaughtersandherselfoftherealcomfortsoflife,becauseshewillnotconsenttoyieldthepalminoutwardshowtothosewhohavethreetimesherwealth;and,aboveall,becausesheisdeterminedhercherishedsonshallbeenabledto‘holduphisheadwith thehighestgentlemen in the land.’ Thissameson, Iimagine, is a man of expensive habits, no reckless spendthrift and noabandonedsensualist,butonewholikestohave‘everythinghandsomeabouthim,’ and to go to a certain length in youthful indulgences, not somuch togratifyhisowntastesastomaintainhisreputationasamanoffashionintheworld,andarespectablefellowamonghisownlawlesscompanions;whileheis tooselfish toconsiderhowmanycomfortsmightbeobtainedforhisfondmother and sisterswith themoney he thuswastes upon himself: as long asthey can contrive tomake a respectable appearance once a year,when theycometotown,hegiveshimselflittleconcernabouttheirprivatestintingsandstrugglesathome.Thisisaharshjudgmenttoformof‘dear,noble-minded,generous-heartedWalter,’butIfearitistoojust.

Mrs.Hargrave’sanxietytomakegoodmatchesforherdaughtersispartlythe

cause,andpartlytheresult,of theseerrors:bymakingafigureintheworld,and showing them off to advantage, she hopes to obtain better chances forthem;andbythuslivingbeyondherlegitimatemeans,andlavishingsomuchontheirbrother,sherendersthemportionless,andmakesthemburdensonherhands.PoorMilicent,Ifear,hasalreadyfallenasacrificetothemanoeuvringsofthismistakenmother,whocongratulatesherselfonhavingsosatisfactorilydischargedhermaternalduty,andhopestodoaswellforEsther.ButEstherisa child as yet, a little merry romp of fourteen: as honest-hearted, and asguilelessandsimpleashersister,butwithafearlessspiritofherown,thatIfancyhermotherwillfindsomedifficultyinbendingtoherpurposes.

CHAPTERXXVII

October9th.—Itwasonthenightofthe4th,alittleaftertea, thatAnnabellahadbeensingingandplaying,withArthurasusualatherside:shehadendedhersong,butstillshesatattheinstrument;andhestoodleaningonthebackofher chair, conversing in scarcely audible tones, with his face in very closeproximitywithhers.IlookedatLordLowborough.Hewasattheotherendoftheroom,talkingwithMessrs.HargraveandGrimsby;butIsawhimdarttowardshisladyandhishostaquick,impatientglance,expressiveofintensedisquietude,atwhichGrimsbysmiled.Determinedtointerruptthetête-à-tête,Irose,and,selectingapieceofmusicfromthemusicstand,steppeduptothepiano,intendingtoasktheladytoplayit;butIstoodtransfixedandspeechlessonseeingherseated there, listening,withwhatseemedanexultant smileonherflushedfacetohissoftmurmurings,withherhandquietlysurrenderedtohisclasp.Thebloodrushedfirsttomyheart,andthentomyhead;fortherewasmorethanthis:almostat themomentofmyapproach,hecastahurriedglance over his shoulder towards the other occupants of the room, and thenardently pressed the unresisting hand to his lips. On raising his eyes, hebeheldme,anddroppedthemagain,confoundedanddismayed.Shesawmetoo,andconfrontedmewithalookofharddefiance.Ilaidthemusiconthepiano, and retired. I felt ill; but I did not leave the room: happily, it wasgettinglate,andcouldnotbelongbeforethecompanydispersed.

Iwenttothefire,andleantmyheadagainstthechimney-piece.Inaminuteortwo,someoneaskedmeifIfeltunwell.Ididnotanswer;indeed,atthetime,I knew not what was said; but I mechanically looked up, and saw Mr.Hargravestandingbesidemeontherug.

‘ShallIgetyouaglassofwine?’saidhe.

‘No, thank you,’ I replied; and, turning from him, I looked round. Lady

Lowboroughwas beside her husband, bending over him as he sat,with herhandonhisshoulder,softlytalkingandsmilinginhisface;andArthurwasatthe table, turningover abookof engravings. I seatedmyself in thenearestchair; and Mr. Hargrave, finding his services were not desired, judiciouslywithdrew. Shortly after, the company broke up, and, as the guests wereretiring to their rooms, Arthur approached me, smiling with the utmostassurance.

‘Areyouveryangry,Helen?’murmuredhe.

‘Thisisnojest,Arthur,’saidI,seriously,butascalmlyasIcould—‘unlessyouthinkitajesttolosemyaffectionforever.’

‘What! sobitter?’heexclaimed, laughingly,claspingmyhandbetweenbothhis; but I snatched it away, in indignation—almost in disgust, for he wasobviouslyaffectedwithwine.

‘Then Imustgodownonmyknees,’ saidhe; andkneelingbeforeme,withclasped hands, uplifted in mock humiliation, he continued imploringly—‘Forgiveme,Helen—dearHelen, forgiveme, and I’ll never do it again!’and,buryinghisfaceinhishandkerchief,heaffectedtosobaloud.

Leavinghimthusemployed,Itookmycandle,and,slippingquietlyfromtheroom,hastenedup-stairsasfastasIcould.ButhesoondiscoveredthatIhadlefthim,and,rushingupafterme,caughtmeinhisarms,justasIhadenteredthechamber,andwasabouttoshutthedoorinhisface.

‘No,no,byheaven,yousha’n’tescapemeso!’hecried.Then,alarmedatmyagitation,hebeggedmenottoputmyselfinsuchapassion,tellingmeIwaswhiteintheface,andshouldkillmyselfifIdidso.

‘Letmego,then,’Imurmured;andimmediatelyhereleasedme—anditwaswell he did, for I was really in a passion. I sank into the easy-chair andendeavoured to composemyself, for I wanted to speak to him calmly. Hestood beside me, but did not venture to touch me or to speak for a fewseconds; then, approaching a little nearer, he dropped on one knee—not inmockhumility,buttobringhimselfnearermylevel,andleaninghishandonthearmofthechair,hebeganinalowvoice:‘Itisallnonsense,Helen—ajest,amere nothing—notworth a thought. Will you never learn,’ he continuedmoreboldly,‘thatyouhavenothingtofearfromme?thatI loveyouwhollyandentirely?—orif,’headdedwithalurkingsmile,‘Ievergiveathoughttoanother,youmaywellspareit,forthosefanciesarehereandgonelikeaflashof lightning,whilemy love foryouburnson steadily, and for ever, like thesun.Youlittleexorbitanttyrant,willnotthat—?’

‘Bequiet amoment,will you,Arthur?’ said I, ‘and listen tome—anddon’t

think I’m in a jealous fury: I am perfectly calm. Feel my hand.’ And Igravelyextended it towardshim—butclosed ituponhiswithanenergy thatseemed todisprove the assertion, andmadehimsmile. ‘Youneedn’t smile,sir,’ said I, still tighteningmy grasp, and looking steadfastly on him till healmostquailedbeforeme.‘Youmaythinkitallveryfine,Mr.Huntingdon,toamuseyourselfwith rousingmy jealousy;but take careyoudon’t rousemyhateinstead.Andwhenyouhaveonceextinguishedmylove,youwillfinditnoeasymattertokindleitagain.’

‘Well,Helen,Iwon’trepeattheoffence. ButImeantnothingbyit,Iassureyou.Ihadtakentoomuchwine,andIwasscarcelymyselfatthetime.’

‘Youoftentaketoomuch;andthatisanotherpracticeIdetest.’Helookedupastonished atmywarmth. ‘Yes,’ I continued; ‘I nevermentioned it before,becauseIwasashamedtodoso;butnowI’lltellyouthatitdistressesme,andmaydisgustme,ifyougoonandsufferthehabittogrowuponyou,asitwillifyoudon’tcheckitintime.ButthewholesystemofyourconducttoLadyLowboroughisnotreferabletowine;andthisnightyouknewperfectlywellwhatyouweredoing.’

‘Well, I’m sorry for it,’ replied he, with more of sulkiness than contrition:‘whatmorewouldyouhave?’

‘YouaresorrythatIsawyou,nodoubt,’Iansweredcoldly.

‘Ifyouhadnotseenme,’hemuttered,fixinghiseyesonthecarpet,‘itwouldhavedonenoharm.’

Myheartfeltreadytoburst;butIresolutelyswallowedbackmyemotion,andansweredcalmly,

‘Youthinknot?’

‘No,’repliedhe,boldly.‘Afterall,whathaveIdone?It’snothing—exceptasyouchoosetomakeitasubjectofaccusationanddistress.’

‘WhatwouldLordLowborough, your friend, think, if he knewall? orwhatwouldyouyourself think, ifheor anyotherhadacted the samepart tome,throughout,asyouhavetoAnnabella?’

‘Iwouldblowhisbrainsout.’

‘Well, then,Arthur, how can you call it nothing—anoffence forwhich youwould think yourself justified in blowing another man’s brains out? Is itnothingtotriflewithyourfriend’sfeelingsandmine—toendeavourtostealawoman’s affections from her husband—what he valuesmore than his gold,andthereforewhatitismoredishonesttotake?Arethemarriagevowsajest;andisitnothingtomakeityoursporttobreakthem,andtotemptanotherto

dothesame?CanIloveamanthatdoessuchthings,andcoollymaintainsitisnothing?’

‘You are breaking yourmarriage vows yourself,’ said he, indignantly risingandpacingtoandfro. ‘Youpromisedtohonourandobeyme,andnowyouattempttohectoroverme,andthreatenandaccuseme,andcallmeworsethanahighwayman.Ifitwerenotforyoursituation,Helen,Iwouldnotsubmittoitsotamely.Iwon’tbedictatedtobyawoman,thoughshebemywife.’

‘Whatwillyoudothen?WillyougoontillIhateyou,andthenaccusemeofbreakingmyvows?’

He was silent a moment, and then replied: ‘You never will hate me.’Returning and resuming his former position at my feet, he repeated morevehemently—‘YoucannothatemeaslongasIloveyou.’

‘ButhowcanIbelievethatyouloveme,ifyoucontinuetoactinthisway?Justimagineyourselfinmyplace:wouldyouthinkIlovedyou,ifIdidso?Would you believe my protestations, and honour and trust me under suchcircumstances?’

‘Thecasesaredifferent,’hereplied.‘Itisawoman’snaturetobeconstant—to love one and one only, blindly, tenderly, and for ever—bless them, dearcreatures!andyouabovethemall;butyoumusthavesomecommiserationforus,Helen;youmustgiveusalittlemorelicence,for,asShakespearehasit—

Howeverwedopraiseourselves,Ourfanciesaremoregiddyandunfirm,Morelonging,wavering,soonerlostandwonThanwomen’sare.’

‘Do youmean by that, that your fancies are lost to me, and won by LadyLowborough?’

‘No!heavenismywitnessthatIthinkhermeredustandashesincomparisonwithyou,andshallcontinuetothinkso,unlessyoudrivemefromyoubytoomuchseverity.Sheisadaughterofearth;youareanangelofheaven;onlybenot too austere in your divinity, and remember that I am a poor, falliblemortal.Comenow,Helen;won’tyouforgiveme?’hesaid,gentlytakingmyhand,andlookingupwithaninnocentsmile.

‘IfIdo,youwillrepeattheoffence.’

‘Iswearby—’

‘Don’tswear;I’llbelieveyourwordaswellasyouroath.IwishIcouldhaveconfidenceineither.’

‘Tryme,then,Helen:onlytrustandpardonmethisonce,andyoushallsee!Come,Iaminhell’stormentstillyouspeaktheword.’

Ididnotspeakit,butIputmyhandonhisshoulderandkissedhisforehead,andthenburstintotears.Heembracedmetenderly;andwehavebeengoodfriends ever since. He has been decently temperate at table, and well-conducted towards Lady Lowborough. The first day he held himself alooffromher,as farashecouldwithoutanyflagrantbreachofhospitality:sincethathehasbeenfriendlyandcivil,butnothingmore—inmypresence,atleast,nor,Ithink,atanyothertime;forsheseemshaughtyanddispleased,andLordLowborough ismanifestlymore cheerful, andmore cordial towardshishostthanbefore.ButIshallbegladwhentheyaregone,forIhavesolittleloveforAnnabella that it isquitea task tobecivil toher, andas she is theonlywoman here besides myself, we are necessarily thrown so much together.NexttimeMrs.HargravecallsIshallhailheradventasquitearelief.IhaveagoodmindtoaskArthur’sleavetoinvitetheoldladytostaywithustillourguestsdepart.IthinkIwill.Shewilltakeitasakindattention,and,thoughIhavelittlerelishforhersociety,shewillbetrulywelcomeasathirdtostandbetweenLadyLowboroughandme.

ThefirsttimethelatterandIwerealonetogether,afterthatunhappyevening,wasanhourortwoafterbreakfastonthefollowingday,whenthegentlemenweregoneout,aftertheusualtimespentinthewritingofletters,thereadingof newspapers, and desultory conversation. We sat silent for two or threeminutes.Shewasbusywithherwork,andIwasrunningoverthecolumnsofapaperfromwhichIhadextractedallthepithsometwentyminutesbefore.Itwas a moment of painful embarrassment to me, and I thought it must beinfinitelymore so toher; but it seems Iwasmistaken. Shewas the first tospeak;and,smilingwiththecoolestassurance,shebegan,—

‘Yourhusbandwasmerrylastnight,Helen:isheoftenso?’

Mybloodboiledinmyface;butitwasbettersheshouldseemtoattributehisconducttothisthantoanythingelse.

‘No,’repliedI,‘andneverwillbesoagain,Itrust.’

‘Yougavehimacurtainlecture,didyou?’

‘No!butItoldhimIdislikedsuchconduct,andhepromisedmenottorepeatit.’

‘I thoughthe looked rather subdued thismorning,’ she continued; ‘andyou,Helen?you’vebeenweeping,Isee—that’sourgrandresource,youknow.Butdoesn’titmakeyoureyessmart?anddoyoualwaysfindittoanswer?’

‘Inevercryforeffect;norcanIconceivehowanyonecan.’

‘Well,Idon’tknow:Ineverhadoccasiontotryit;butIthinkifLowboroughweretocommitsuchimproprieties,I’dmakehimcry.Idon’twonderatyourbeing angry, for I’m sure I’d givemy husband a lesson hewould not soonforgetforalighteroffencethanthat.Butthenheneverwilldoanythingofthekind;forIkeephimintoogoodorderforthat.’

‘Are you sure you don’t arrogate toomuch of the credit to yourself. LordLowboroughwas quite as remarkable for his abstemiousness for some timebeforeyoumarriedhim,asheisnow,Ihaveheard.’

‘Oh, about the wine youmean—yes, he’s safe enough for that. And as tolookingaskancetoanotherwoman,he’ssafeenoughforthattoo,whileIlive,forheworshipstheverygroundItreadon.’

‘Indeed!andareyousureyoudeserveit?’

‘Why,astothat,Ican’tsay:youknowwe’reallfalliblecreatures,Helen;wenone of us deserve to be worshipped. But are you sure your darlingHuntingdondeservesalltheloveyougivetohim?’

Iknewnotwhattoanswertothis.Iwasburningwithanger;butIsuppressedalloutwardmanifestationsofit,andonlybitmylipandpretendedtoarrangemywork.

‘Atanyrate,’resumedshe,pursuingheradvantage,‘youcanconsoleyourselfwiththeassurancethatyouareworthyofallthelovehegivestoyou.’

‘Youflatterme,’saidI;‘but,atleast,Icantrytobeworthyofit.’AndthenIturnedtheconversation.

CHAPTERXXVIII

December25th.—LastChristmasIwasabride,withaheartoverflowingwithpresent bliss, and full of ardent hopes for the future, though not unmingledwith foreboding fears. Now I am a wife: my bliss is sobered, but notdestroyed;myhopesdiminished,butnotdeparted;myfearsincreased,butnotyetthoroughlyconfirmed;and,thankheaven,Iamamothertoo.Godhassentme a soul to educate for heaven, and giveme a new and calmer bliss, andstrongerhopestocomfortme.

Dec.25th,1823.—Anotheryear isgone. MylittleArthur livesandthrives.He ishealthy,butnot robust, fullofgentleplayfulnessandvivacity,alreadyaffectionate, and susceptibleofpassionsandemotions itwillbe longerehecanfindwordstoexpress.Hehaswonhisfather’sheartatlast;andnowmy

constant terror is, lest he should be ruined by that father’s thoughtlessindulgence.ButImustbewareofmyownweaknesstoo,forIneverknewtillnowhowstrongareaparent’stemptationstospoilanonlychild.

Ihaveneedofconsolationinmyson,for(tothissilentpaperImayconfessit)Ihavebutlittleinmyhusband.Ilovehimstill;andhelovesme,inhisownway—butoh,howdifferent from the love Icouldhavegiven,andoncehadhopedtoreceive!Howlittlerealsympathythereexistsbetweenus;howmanyofmythoughtsandfeelingsaregloomilycloisteredwithinmyownmind;howmuch of my higher and better self is indeed unmarried—doomed either tohardenandsourinthesunlessshadeofsolitude,ortoquitedegenerateandfallawayforlackofnutrimentinthisunwholesomesoil!But,Irepeat,Ihavenorighttocomplain;onlyletmestatethetruth—someofthetruth,atleast,—andseehereafterifanydarkertruthswillblotthesepages.Wehavenowbeenfulltwoyearsunited;the‘romance’ofourattachmentmustbewornaway.SurelyI have now got down to the lowest gradation in Arthur’s affection, anddiscoveredalltheevilsofhisnature:iftherebeanyfurtherchange,itmustbefor thebetter, aswebecome stillmore accustomed to eachother; surelyweshallfindnolowerdepththanthis.And,ifso,Icanbearitwell—aswell,atleast,asIhaveborneithitherto.

Arthurisnotwhatiscommonlycalledabadman:hehasmanygoodqualities;butheisamanwithoutself-restraintorloftyaspirations,aloverofpleasure,given up to animal enjoyments: he is not a bad husband, but his notions ofmatrimonial duties and comforts are not my notions. Judging fromappearances,hisideaofawifeisathingtoloveonedevotedly,andtostayathometowaituponherhusband,andamusehimandministertohiscomfortineverypossibleway,whilehechoosestostaywithher;and,whenheisabsent,toattendtohisinterests,domesticorotherwise,andpatientlywaithisreturn,nomatterhowhemaybeoccupiedinthemeantime.

Early in spring he announced his intention of going to London: his affairstheredemandedhisattendance,hesaid,andhecouldrefuseitnolonger.Heexpressedhisregretathaving to leaveme,buthopedIwouldamusemyselfwiththebabytillhereturned.

‘Butwhyleaveme?’Isaid.‘Icangowithyou:Icanbereadyatanytime.’

‘Youwouldnottakethatchildtotown?’

‘Yes;whynot?’

The thingwasabsurd: theairof the townwouldbecertain todisagreewithhim,andwithmeasanurse;thelatehoursandLondonhabitswouldnotsuitmeundersuchcircumstances;andaltogetherheassuredme that itwouldbeexcessivelytroublesome,injurious,andunsafe.Iover-ruledhisobjectionsas

wellasIcould,forI trembledat the thoughtsofhisgoingalone,andwouldsacrifice almost anything formyself,much even formy child, to prevent it;but at lengthhe toldme,plainly, and somewhat testily, thathecouldnotdowithme:hewaswornoutwiththebaby’srestlessnights,andmusthavesomerepose.Iproposedseparateapartments;butitwouldnotdo.

‘The truth is, Arthur,’ I said at last, ‘you are weary of my company, anddeterminednottohavemewithyou.Youmightaswellhavesaidsoatonce.’

Hedeniedit;butIimmediatelylefttheroom,andflewtothenursery,tohidemyfeelings,ifIcouldnotsoothethem,there.

Iwastoomuchhurttoexpressanyfurtherdissatisfactionwithhisplans,oratall to refer to the subject again, except for the necessary arrangementsconcerninghisdepartureandtheconductofaffairsduringhisabsence,tillthedaybeforehewent,whenIearnestlyexhortedhimtotakecareofhimselfandkeepoutofthewayoftemptation.Helaughedatmyanxiety,butassuredmetherewasnocauseforit,andpromisedtoattendtomyadvice.

‘Isupposeitisnouseaskingyoutofixadayforyourreturn?’saidI.

‘Why,no;Ihardlycan,underthecircumstances;butbeassured,love,Ishallnotbelongaway.’

‘Idon’twishtokeepyouaprisonerathome,’Ireplied;‘Ishouldnotgrumbleatyourstayingwholemonthsaway—ifyoucanbehappysolongwithoutme—providedIknewyouweresafe;butIdon’tliketheideaofyourbeingthereamongyourfriends,asyoucallthem.’

‘Pooh,pooh,yousillygirl!DoyouthinkIcan’ttakecareofmyself?’

‘Youdidn’tlasttime.ButTHIStime,Arthur,’Iadded,earnestly,‘showmethatyoucan,andteachmethatIneednotfeartotrustyou!’

Hepromisedfair,butinsuchamannerasweseektosootheachild.Anddidhekeephispromise?No;andhenceforthIcannevertrusthisword. Bitter,bitterconfession!TearsblindmewhileIwrite.ItwasearlyinMarchthathewent,andhedidnotreturntillJuly. This timehedidnot troublehimself tomakeexcusesasbefore,andhisletterswerelessfrequent,andshorterandlessaffectionate,especiallyafterthefirstfewweeks:theycameslowerandslower,andmoreterseandcarelesseverytime.Butstill,whenIomittedwriting,hecomplained ofmyneglect. When Iwrote sternly and coldly, as I confess Ifrequentlydidatthelast,heblamedmyharshness,andsaiditwasenoughtoscarehimfromhishome:whenI triedmildpersuasion,hewasa littlemoregentle in his replies, and promised to return; but I had learnt, at last, todisregardhispromises.

CHAPTERXXIX

Those were four miserable months, alternating between intense anxiety,despair,and indignation,pityforhimandpityformyself. Andyet, throughall, Iwasnotwhollycomfortless:Ihadmydarling,sinless, inoffensivelittleonetoconsoleme;buteventhisconsolationwasembitteredbytheconstantly-recurring thought, ‘Howshall I teachhimhereafter torespecthisfather,andyettoavoidhisexample?’

ButIrememberedthatIhadbroughtalltheseafflictions,inamannerwilfully,uponmyself;andIdeterminedtobearthemwithoutamurmur.Atthesametime I resolved not to give myself up to misery for the transgressions ofanother,andendeavouredtodivertmyselfasmuchasIcould;andbesidesthecompanionship of my child, and my dear, faithful Rachel, who evidentlyguessedmysorrowsandfeltforthem,thoughshewastoodiscreettoalludetothem, I hadmybooks and pencil,mydomestic affairs, and thewelfare andcomfortofArthur’spoortenantsandlabourerstoattendto:andIsometimessought and obtained amusement in the company ofmy young friendEstherHargrave:occasionallyIrodeovertoseeher,andonceortwiceIhadhertospendthedaywithmeattheManor.Mrs.HargravedidnotvisitLondonthatseason:havingnodaughtertomarry,shethoughtitaswelltostayathomeandeconomise;and,forawonder,WaltercamedowntojoinherinthebeginningofJune,andstayedtillnearthecloseofAugust.

ThefirsttimeIsawhimwasonasweet,warmevening,whenIwassaunteringintheparkwithlittleArthurandRachel,whoishead-nurseandlady’s-maidinone—for,withmysecludedlifeandtolerablyactivehabits,Irequirebutlittleattendance,andasshehadnursedmeandcovetedtonursemychild,andwasmoreoversoverytrustworthy,Ipreferredcommittingtheimportantchargetoher,withayoungnursery-maidunderherdirections,toengaginganyoneelse:besides, it savesmoney; and since I havemade acquaintancewithArthur’saffairs,Ihavelearnttoregardthatasnotriflingrecommendation;for,bymyowndesire,nearlythewholeoftheincomeofmyfortuneisdevoted,foryearstocome,tothepayingoffofhisdebts,andthemoneyhecontrivestosquanderaway inLondon is incomprehensible. But to return toMr.Hargrave. IwasstandingwithRachelbesidethewater,amusingthelaughingbabyinherarmswithatwigofwillowladenwithgoldencatkins,when,greatlytomysurprise,heenteredthepark,mountedonhiscostlyblackhunter,andcrossedoverthegrass to meet me. He saluted me with a very fine compliment, delicatelyworded,andmodestlydeliveredwithal,whichhehaddoubtlessconcoctedasherodealong.Hetoldmehehadbroughtamessagefromhismother,who,ashe was riding that way, had desired him to call at the Manor and beg the

pleasureofmycompanytoafriendlyfamilydinnerto-morrow.

‘Thereisnoonetomeetbutourselves,’saidhe;‘butEstherisveryanxioustoseeyou;andmymotherfearsyouwillfeelsolitaryinthisgreathousesomuchalone, and wishes she could persuade you to give her the pleasure of yourcompanymore frequently, andmake yourself at home in ourmore humbledwelling,tillMr.Huntingdon’sreturnshallrenderthisalittlemoreconducivetoyourcomfort.’

‘Sheisverykind,’Ianswered,‘butIamnotalone,yousee;—andthosewhosetimeisfullyoccupiedseldomcomplainofsolitude.’

‘Willyounotcome to-morrow, then? Shewillbesadlydisappointed ifyourefuse.’

Ididnotrelishbeingthuscompassionatedformyloneliness;but,however,Ipromisedtocome.

‘What a sweet evening this is!’ observed he, looking round upon the sunnypark,withitsimposingswellandslope,itsplacidwater,andmajesticclumpsoftrees.‘Andwhataparadiseyoulivein!’

‘Itisalovelyevening,’answeredI;andIsighedtothinkhowlittleIhadfeltits loveliness,andhow littleofaparadise sweetGrassdalewas tome—howstilllesstothevoluntaryexilefromitsscenes.WhetherMr.Hargravedivinedmy thoughts, I cannot tell, but, with a half-hesitating, sympathisingseriousness of tone and manner, he asked if I had lately heard from Mr.Huntingdon.

‘Notlately,’Ireplied.

‘I thought not,’ he muttered, as if to himself, looking thoughtfully on theground.

‘AreyounotlatelyreturnedfromLondon?’Iasked.

‘Onlyyesterday.’

‘Anddidyouseehimthere?’

‘Yes—Isawhim.’

‘Washewell?’

‘Yes—that is,’ said he, with increasing hesitation and an appearance ofsuppressed indignation, ‘hewasaswellas—ashedeserved tobe,butundercircumstances I shouldhavedeemed incredible foramanso favouredasheis.’Heherelookedupandpointedthesentencewithaseriousbowtome.Isupposemyfacewascrimson.

‘Pardon me, Mrs. Huntingdon,’ he continued, ‘but I cannot suppress myindignationwhenIbeholdsuchinfatuatedblindnessandperversionoftaste;—but,perhaps,youarenotaware—‘Hepaused.

‘I amawareofnothing, sir—except thathedelayshis coming longer than Iexpected;andif,atpresent,heprefersthesocietyofhisfriendstothatofhiswife,andthedissipationsofthetowntothequietofcountrylife,IsupposeIhavethosefriendstothankforit.Theirtastesandoccupationsaresimilartohis,andIdon’tseewhyhisconductshouldawakeneithertheirindignationorsurprise.’

‘You wrong me cruelly,’ answered he. ‘I have shared but little of Mr.Huntingdon’s society for the last few weeks; and as for his tastes andoccupations, they are quite beyondme—lonelywanderer as I am. Where Ihavebut sippedand tasted,hedrains the cup to thedregs; and if ever for amomentIhavesoughttodrownthevoiceofreflectioninmadnessandfolly,or if I have wasted too much of my time and talents among reckless anddissipatedcompanions,GodknowsIwouldgladlyrenouncethementirelyandforever,ifIhadbuthalftheblessingsthatmansothanklesslycastsbehindhisback—buthalftheinducementstovirtueanddomestic,orderlyhabitsthathedespises—butsuchahome,andsuchapartnertoshareit!Itisinfamous!’hemuttered, betweenhis teeth. ‘Anddon’t think,Mrs.Huntingdon,’ he addedaloud, ‘that I could be guilty of inciting him to persevere in his presentpursuits:onthecontrary,Ihaveremonstratedwithhimagainandagain;Ihavefrequently expressed my surprise at his conduct, and reminded him of hisdutiesandhisprivileges—buttonopurpose;heonly—’

‘Enough,Mr.Hargrave; youought to be aware thatwhatevermyhusband’sfaults may be, it can only aggravate the evil for me to hear them from astranger’slips.’

‘Am I then a stranger?’ said he in a sorrowful tone. ‘I am your nearestneighbour, your son’s godfather, and your husband’s friend; may I not beyoursalso?’

‘Intimateacquaintancemustprecederealfriendship;Iknowbutlittleofyou,Mr.Hargrave,exceptfromreport.’

‘HaveyouthenforgottenthesixorsevenweeksIspentunderyourrooflastautumn? I have not forgotten them. And I know enough of you, Mrs.Huntingdon,tothinkthatyourhusbandisthemostenviablemanintheworld,andIshouldbethenextifyouwoulddeemmeworthyofyourfriendship.’

‘Ifyouknewmoreofme,youwouldnotthinkit,orifyoudidyouwouldnotsayit,andexpectmetobeflatteredbythecompliment.’

IsteppedbackwardasIspoke.HesawthatIwishedtheconversationtoend;andimmediatelytakingthehint,hegravelybowed,wishedmegood-evening,and turnedhishorse towards the road. Heappearedgrievedandhurtatmyunkindreceptionofhissympathisingovertures.IwasnotsurethatIhaddonerightinspeakingsoharshlytohim;but,atthetime,Ihadfeltirritated—almostinsultedbyhisconduct; it seemedas ifhewaspresumingupon theabsenceandneglectofmyhusband,andinsinuatingevenmorethanthetruthagainsthim.

Rachelhadmovedon,duringourconversation, tosomeyards’distance. Herodeuptoher,andaskedtoseethechild.Hetookitcarefullyintohisarms,looked upon it with an almost paternal smile, and I heard him say, as Iapproached,—

‘Andthis,too,hehasforsaken!’

Hethentenderlykissedit,andrestoredittothegratifiednurse.

‘Areyoufondofchildren,Mr.Hargrave?’saidI,alittlesoftenedtowardshim.

‘Not in general,’ he replied, ‘but that is such a sweet child, and so like itsmother,’headdedinalowertone.

‘Youaremistakenthere;itisitsfatheritresembles.’

‘AmInotright,nurse?’saidhe,appealingtoRachel.

‘Ithink,sir,there’sabitofboth,’shereplied.

Hedeparted;andRachelpronouncedhimaverynicegentleman. Ihadstillmydoubtsonthesubject.

InthecourseofthefollowingsixweeksImethimseveraltimes,butalways,saveonce,incompanywithhismother,orhissister,orboth.WhenIcalledonthem,healwayshappenedtobeathome,and,whentheycalledonme,itwas always he that drove themover in the phaeton. Hismother, evidently,was quite delightedwith his dutiful attentions and newly-acquired domestichabits.

ThetimethatImethimalonewasonabright,butnotoppressivelyhotday,inthebeginningof July: I had taken littleArthur into thewood that skirts thepark, and there seatedhimon themoss-cushioned roots of an old oak; and,havinggatheredahandfulofbluebellsandwild-roses,Iwaskneelingbeforehim,andpresentingthem,onebyone,tothegraspofhistinyfingers;enjoyingtheheavenlybeautyof theflowers, throughthemediumofhissmilingeyes:forgetting,forthemoment,allmycares,laughingathisgleefullaughter,anddelighting myself with his delight,—when a shadow suddenly eclipsed thelittlespaceofsunshineonthegrassbeforeus;andlookingup,IbeheldWalter

Hargravestandingandgazinguponus.

‘Excuseme,Mrs.Huntingdon,’saidhe,‘butIwasspell-bound;Ihadneitherthe power to come forward and interrupt you, nor to withdraw from thecontemplation of such a scene. Howvigorousmy little godson grows! andhowmerryheisthismorning!’Heapproachedthechild,andstoopedtotakehis hand; but, on seeing that his caresses were likely to produce tears andlamentations, instead of a reciprocation of friendly demonstrations, heprudentlydrewback.

‘What a pleasure and comfort that little creature must be to you, Mrs.Huntingdon!’ he observed, with a touch of sadness in his intonation, as headmiringlycontemplatedtheinfant.

‘Itis,’repliedI;andthenIaskedafterhismotherandsister.

He politely answeredmy inquiries, and then returned again to the subject Iwished to avoid; thoughwith a degreeof timidity thatwitnessedhis fear tooffend.

‘YouhavenotheardfromHuntingdonlately?’hesaid.

‘Notthisweek,’Ireplied.Notthesethreeweeks,Imighthavesaid.

‘Ihada letter fromhim thismorning. Iwish itwere suchaoneas I couldshow to his lady.’ He half drew from his waistcoat-pocket a letter withArthur’sstillbelovedhandontheaddress,scowledatit,andputitbackagain,adding—‘Buthetellsmeheisabouttoreturnnextweek.’

‘Hetellsmesoeverytimehewrites.’

‘Indeed!well, it islikehim.Buttomehealwaysavowedithisintentiontostaytillthepresentmonth.’

It struck me like a blow, this proof of premeditated transgression andsystematicdisregardoftruth.

‘It is only of a piecewith the rest of his conduct,’ observedMr. Hargrave,thoughtfullyregardingme,andreading,Isuppose,myfeelingsinmyface.

‘Thenheisreallycomingnextweek?’saidI,afterapause.

‘Youmayrelyuponit,iftheassurancecangiveyouanypleasure.Andisitpossible,Mrs.Huntingdon, thatyoucanrejoiceathisreturn?’heexclaimed,attentivelyperusingmyfeaturesagain.

‘Ofcourse,Mr.Hargrave;ishenotmyhusband?’

‘Oh,Huntingdon;youknownotwhatyouslight!’hepassionatelymurmured.

Itookupmybaby,and,wishinghimgood-morning,departed,toindulgemythoughtsunscrutinized,withinthesanctumofmyhome.

AndwasIglad? Yes,delighted; thoughIwasangeredbyArthur’sconduct,andthoughIfeltthathehadwrongedme,andwasdeterminedheshouldfeelittoo.

CHAPTERXXX

OnthefollowingmorningIreceivedafewlinesfromhimmyself,confirmingHargrave’s intimations respectinghis approaching return. Andhedid comenextweek,butinaconditionofbodyandmindevenworsethanbefore.Ididnot,however,intendtopassoverhisderelictionsthistimewithoutaremark;Ifounditwouldnotdo.Butthefirstdayhewaswearywithhisjourney,andIwasgladtogethimback:Iwouldnotupbraidhimthen;Iwouldwaittillto-morrow.Nextmorninghewaswearystill:Iwouldwaitalittlelonger.Butatdinner,when, after breakfasting at twelve o’clock on a bottle of soda-waterandacupofstrongcoffee,andlunchingattwoonanotherbottleofsoda-watermingledwithbrandy,hewas finding faultwith everythingon the table, anddeclaringwemustchangeourcook,Ithoughtthetimewascome.

‘It is the samecookaswehadbeforeyouwent,Arthur,’ said I. ‘Youweregenerallyprettywellsatisfiedwithherthen.’

‘Youmust have been letting her get into slovenly habits, then,while Iwasaway. It is enough to poison one, eating such a disgustingmess!’ And hepettishlypushedawayhisplate,andleantbackdespairinglyinhischair.

‘I think it is you that are changed, not she,’ said I, but with the utmostgentleness,forIdidnotwishtoirritatehim.

‘Itmaybeso,’herepliedcarelessly,asheseizedatumblerofwineandwater,adding,whenhehadtosseditoff,‘forIhaveaninfernalfireinmyveins,thatallthewatersoftheoceancannotquench!’

‘Whatkindled it?’ Iwasabout toask,but at thatmoment thebutler enteredandbegantotakeawaythethings.

‘Bequick,Benson;dohavedonewiththatinfernalclatter!’criedhismaster.‘Anddon’tbringthecheese,unlessyouwanttomakemesickoutright!’

Benson, in some surprise, removed the cheese, and did his best to effect aquietandspeedyclearanceoftherest;but,unfortunately,therewasarumpleinthecarpet,causedbythehastypushingbackofhismaster’schair,atwhich

hetrippedandstumbled,causingaratheralarmingconcussionwiththetrayfulofcrockeryinhishands,butnopositivedamage,savethefallandbreakingofa sauce tureen; but, to my unspeakable shame and dismay, Arthur turnedfuriously around upon him, and swore at himwith savage coarseness. Thepoor man turned pale, and visibly trembled as he stooped to pick up thefragments.

‘Hecouldn’thelpit,Arthur,’saidI;‘thecarpetcaughthisfoot,andthere’snogreat harm done. Nevermind the pieces now,Benson; you can clear themawayafterwards.’

Gladtobereleased,Bensonexpeditiouslysetoutthedessertandwithdrew.

‘Whatcouldyoumean,Helen,by taking theservant’spartagainstme,’ saidArthur,assoonasthedoorwasclosed,‘whenyouknewIwasdistracted?’

‘I did not know you were distracted, Arthur: and the poor man was quitefrightenedandhurtatyoursuddenexplosion.’

‘Poorman,indeed!anddoyouthinkIcouldstoptoconsiderthefeelingsofaninsensatebrutelikethat,whenmyownnerveswererackedandtorntopiecesbyhisconfoundedblunders?’

‘Ineverheardyoucomplainofyournervesbefore.’

‘Andwhyshouldn’tIhavenervesaswellasyou?’

‘Oh, I don’t dispute your claim to their possession, but I never complain ofmine.’

‘No,howshouldyou,whenyouneverdoanythingtotrythem?’

‘Thenwhydoyoutryyours,Arthur?’

‘DoyouthinkIhavenothingtodobuttostayathomeandtakecareofmyselflikeawoman?’

‘Is it impossible, then, to take care of yourself like a man when you goabroad?Youtoldmethatyoucould,andwouldtoo;andyoupromised—’

‘Come,come,Helen,don’tbeginwiththatnonsensenow;Ican’tbearit.’

‘Can’tbearwhat?—toberemindedofthepromisesyouhavebroken?’

‘Helen,youarecruel. Ifyouknewhowmyheart throbbed, andhoweverynervethrilledthroughmewhileyouspoke,youwouldspareme.Youcanpityadolt of a servant for breaking adish; but youhaveno compassion formewhenmyheadissplitintwoandallonfirewiththisconsumingfever.’

Heleanthisheadonhishand,andsighed.Iwenttohimandputmyhandon

hisforehead.Itwasburningindeed.

‘Thencomewithmeintothedrawing-room,Arthur;anddon’ttakeanymorewine:youhave takenseveralglassessincedinner,andeatennext tonothingalltheday.Howcanthatmakeyoubetter?’

With some coaxing andpersuasion, I got him to leave the table. When thebabywasbrought I tried to amusehimwith that; but poor littleArthurwascutting his teeth, and his father could not bear his complaints: sentence ofimmediate banishment was passed upon him on the first indication offretfulness;andbecause,inthecourseoftheevening,Iwenttosharehisexilefora littlewhile, Iwas reproached,onmyreturn, forpreferringmychild tomyhusband.IfoundthelatterrecliningonthesofajustasIhadlefthim.

‘Well!’exclaimedtheinjuredman,inatoneofpseudo-resignation.‘IthoughtIwouldn’tsendforyou;IthoughtI’djustseehowlongitwouldpleaseyoutoleavemealone.’

‘Ihavenotbeenverylong,haveI,Arthur?Ihavenotbeenanhour,I’msure.’

‘Oh,ofcourse,anhourisnothingtoyou,sopleasantlyemployed;buttome—’

‘Ithasnotbeenpleasantlyemployed,’interruptedI.‘Ihavebeennursingourpoorlittlebaby,whoisveryfarfromwell,andIcouldnotleavehimtillIgothimtosleep.’

‘Oh,tobesure,you’reoverflowingwithkindnessandpityforeverythingbutme.’

‘AndwhyshouldIpityyou?Whatisthematterwithyou?’

‘Well!thatpasseseverything!AfterallthewearandtearthatI’vehad,whenIcome home sick and weary, longing for comfort, and expecting to findattention and kindness, at least frommy wife, she calmly asks what is thematterwithme!’

‘There is nothing the matter with you,’ returned I, ‘except what you havewilfullybroughtuponyourself,againstmyearnestexhortationandentreaty.’

‘Now,Helen,’saidheemphatically,halfrisingfromhisrecumbentposture,‘ifyou bothermewith anotherword, I’ll ring the bell and order six bottles ofwine,and,byheaven,I’lldrinkthemdrybeforeIstirfromthisplace!’

Isaidnomore,butsatdownbeforethetableanddrewabooktowardsme.

‘Doletmehavequietnessatleast!’continuedhe,‘ifyoudenymeeveryothercomfort;’ and sinking back into his former position, with an impatientexpirationbetweenasighandagroan,he languidlyclosedhiseyes,as if to

sleep.

What thebookwas that layopenon the tablebeforeme, Icannot tell, for Inever lookedat it. Withanelbowoneachsideof it,andmyhandsclaspedbeforemyeyes,Ideliveredmyselfuptosilentweeping.ButArthurwasnotasleep:atthefirstslightsob,heraisedhisheadandlookedround,impatientlyexclaiming, ‘What areyoucrying for,Helen? What thedeuce is thematternow?’

‘I’mcryingforyou,Arthur,’Ireplied,speedilydryingmytears;andstartingup,I threwmyselfonmykneesbeforehim,andclaspinghisnervelesshandbetweenmyown,continued:‘Don’tyouknowthatyouareapartofmyself?Anddoyouthinkyoucaninjureanddegradeyourself,andInotfeelit?’

‘Degrademyself,Helen?’

‘Yes,degrade!Whathaveyoubeendoingallthistime?’

‘You’dbetternotask,’saidhe,withafaintsmile.

‘And you had better not tell; but you cannot deny that you have degradedyourselfmiserably. You have shamefullywronged yourself, body and soul,andmetoo;andIcan’tendureitquietly,andIwon’t!’

‘Well, don’t squeeze my hand so frantically, and don’t agitate me so, forheaven’ssake!Oh,Hattersley!youwereright:thiswomanwillbethedeathofme,with her keen feelings andher interesting force of character. There,there,dosparemealittle.’

‘Arthur, youmust repent!’ cried I, in a frenzy of desperation, throwingmyarmsaroundhimandburyingmyfaceinhisbosom.‘Youshallsayyouaresorryforwhatyouhavedone!’

‘Well,well,Iam.’

‘Youarenot!you’lldoitagain.’

‘I shall never live to do it again if you treat me so savagely,’ replied he,pushingmefromhim.‘You’venearlysqueezedthebreathoutofmybody.’Hepressedhishandtohisheart,andlookedreallyagitatedandill.

‘Nowgetmeaglassofwine,’saidhe,‘toremedywhatyou’vedone,youshetiger!I’malmostreadytofaint.’

Iflewtogettherequiredremedy.Itseemedtorevivehimconsiderably.

‘What a shame it is,’ said I, as I took the emptyglass fromhishand, ‘for astrongyoungmanlikeyoutoreduceyourselftosuchastate!’

‘Ifyouknewall,mygirl,you’dsayrather,“Whatawonderitisyoucanbear

itsowellasyoudo!”I’velivedmoreinthesefourmonths,Helen,thanyouhaveinthewholecourseofyourexistence,orwilltotheendofyourdays,iftheynumberedahundredyears;soImustexpecttopayforitinsomeshape.’

‘Youwillhavetopayahigherpricethanyouanticipate,ifyoudon’ttakecare:therewillbethetotallossofyourownhealth,andofmyaffectiontoo,ifthatisofanyvaluetoyou.’

‘What!you’reat thatgameof threateningmewiththelossofyouraffectionagain,areyou?Ithinkitcouldn’thavebeenverygenuinestufftobeginwith,ifit’ssoeasilydemolished.Ifyoudon’tmind,myprettytyrant,you’llmakemeregretmychoiceingoodearnest,andenvymyfriendHattersleyhismeeklittlewife: she’s quite a pattern to her sex,Helen. He had herwith him inLondonalltheseason,andshewasnotroubleatall.Hemightamusehimselfjust as he pleased, in regular bachelor style, and she never complained ofneglect;hemightcomehomeatanyhourofthenightormorning,ornotcomehome at all; be sullen, sober, or glorious drunk; and play the fool or themadmantohisownheart’sdesire,withoutanyfearorbotheration.Shenevergiveshimawordofreproachorcomplaint,dowhathewill.Hesaysthere’snotsucha jewel inallEngland,andswearshewouldn’t takeakingdomforher.’

‘Buthemakesherlifeacursetoher.’

‘Nothe!Shehasnowillbuthis,andisalwayscontentedandhappyaslongasheisenjoyinghimself.’

‘In that case she is as great a fool as he is; but it is not so. I have severalletters from her, expressing the greatest anxiety about his proceedings, andcomplaining that you incite him to commit those extravagances—oneespecially,inwhichsheimploresmetousemyinfluencewithyoutogetyouawayfromLondon,andaffirmsthatherhusbandneverdidsuchthingsbeforeyoucame,andwouldcertainlydiscontinuethemassoonasyoudepartedandlefthimtotheguidanceofhisowngoodsense.’

‘Thedetestablelittletraitor!Givemetheletter,andheshallseeitassureasI’malivingman.’

‘No,heshallnotseeitwithoutherconsent;butifhedid,thereisnothingtheretoangerhim,norinanyoftheothers.Sheneverspeaksawordagainsthim:itisonlyanxietyforhimthatsheexpresses.Sheonlyalludestohisconductinthemostdelicateterms,andmakeseveryexcuseforhimthatshecanpossiblythinkof;andasforherownmisery,Iratherfeelitthanseeitexpressedinherletters.’

‘Butsheabusesme;andnodoubtyouhelpedher.’

‘No;Itoldhersheover-ratedmyinfluencewithyou,thatIwouldgladlydrawyouaway from the temptationsof the town if Icould,buthad littlehopeofsuccess,andthatI thoughtshewaswronginsupposingthatyouenticedMr.Hattersleyoranyoneelseintoerror.Ihadmyselfheldthecontraryopinionatone time, but I now believed that you mutually corrupted each other; and,perhaps,ifsheusedalittlegentlebutseriousremonstrancewithherhusband,itmightbeofsomeservice;as,thoughhewasmorerough-hewnthanmine,Ibelievedhewasofalessimpenetrablematerial.’

‘Andsothat is thewayyougoon—hearteningeachotheruptomutiny,andabusingeachother’spartners,andthrowingoutimplicationsagainstyourown,tothemutualgratificationofboth!’

‘According toyourownaccount,’ said I, ‘myevil counsel hashadbut littleeffect upon her. And as to abuse and aspersions,we are both of us far toodeeplyashamedoftheerrorsandvicesofourotherhalves,tomakethemthecommon subject of our correspondence. Friends as we are, we wouldwillingly keep your failings to ourselves—even fromourselves ifwe could,unlessbyknowingthemwecoulddeliveryoufromthem.’

‘Well,well!don’tworrymeaboutthem:you’llnevereffectanygoodbythat.Havepatiencewithme,andbearwithmylanguorandcrossnessalittlewhile,till I get this cursed low fever out of my veins, and then you’ll find mecheerfulandkindasever.Whycan’tyoubegentleandgood,asyouwerelasttime?—I’msureIwasverygratefulforit.’

‘Andwhatgooddidyourgratitudedo? Ideludedmyselfwith the idea thatyouwereashamedofyourtransgressions,andhopedyouwouldneverrepeatthemagain;butnowyouhaveleftmenothingtohope!’

‘Mycaseisquitedesperate,isit?Averyblessedconsideration,ifitwillonlysecure me from the pain and worry of my dear anxious wife’s efforts toconvertme,andherfromthetoilandtroubleofsuchexertions,andhersweetface and silver accents from the ruinous effects of the same. A burst ofpassion is a fine rousing thinguponoccasion,Helen, anda floodof tears ismarvellously affecting, but, when indulged too often, they are both deucedplaguythingsforspoilingone’sbeautyandtiringoutone’sfriends.’

ThenceforthIrestrainedmytearsandpassionsasmuchasIcould. Isparedhimmyexhortationsandfruitlesseffortsatconversiontoo,forIsawitwasallin vain: God might awaken that heart, supine and stupefied with self-indulgence,andremovethefilmofsensualdarknessfromhiseyes,butIcouldnot.Hisinjusticeandill-humourtowardshisinferiors,whocouldnotdefendthemselves,Istillresentedandwithstood;butwhenIalonewastheirobject,aswasfrequentlythecase,Iendureditwithcalmforbearance,exceptattimes,

whenmytemper,wornoutbyrepeatedannoyances,orstungtodistractionbysomenewinstanceofirrationality,gavewayinspiteofmyself,andexposedme to the imputations of fierceness, cruelty, and impatience. I attendedcarefullytohiswantsandamusements,butnot,Iown,withthesamedevotedfondness as before, because I could not feel it; besides, I had now anotherclaimantonmytimeandcare—myailinginfant,forwhosesakeIfrequentlybraved and suffered the reproaches and complaints of his unreasonablyexactingfather.

ButArthurisnotnaturallyapeevishorirritableman;sofarfromit,thattherewas something almost ludicrous in the incongruity of this adventitiousfretfulness and nervous irritability, rather calculated to excite laughter thananger, if it were not for the intensely painful considerations attendant uponthosesymptomsofadisorderedframe,andhistempergraduallyimprovedashisbodilyhealthwasrestored,whichwasmuchsoonerthanwouldhavebeenthecasebutformystrenuousexertions;fortherewasstillonethingabouthimthat I did not give up in despair, and one effort for his preservation that Iwould not remit. His appetite for the stimulus ofwine had increased uponhim,asIhadtoowellforeseen. Itwasnowsomethingmoretohimthananaccessory to social enjoyment: it was an important source of enjoyment initself. In this time of weakness and depression hewould havemade it hismedicineandsupport,hiscomforter,hisrecreation,andhisfriend,andtherebysunk deeper and deeper, and bound himself down for ever in the bathoswhereintohehadfallen. ButIdeterminedthisshouldneverbe,as longasIhadanyinfluenceleft;andthoughIcouldnotpreventhimfromtakingmorethan was good for him, still, by incessant perseverance, by kindness, andfirmness, and vigilance, by coaxing, and daring, and determination, Isucceeded in preserving him from absolute bondage to that detestablepropensity, so insidious in its advances, so inexorable in its tyranny, sodisastrousinitseffects.

And here Imust not forget that I am not a little indebted to his friendMr.Hargrave.AboutthattimehefrequentlycalledatGrassdale,andoftendinedwithus,onwhichoccasionsIfearArthurwouldwillinglyhavecastprudenceand decorum to the winds, and made ‘a night of it,’ as often as his friendwouldhaveconsentedtojoinhiminthatexaltedpastime;andifthelatterhadchosen to comply, he might, in a night or two, have ruined the labour ofweeks, and overthrown with a touch the frail bulwark it had cost me suchtroubleand toil toconstruct. Iwasso fearfulof thisat first, that Ihumbledmyselftointimatetohim,inprivate,myapprehensionsofArthur’spronenessto theseexcesses,andtoexpressahopethathewouldnotencourageit. Hewaspleasedwiththismarkofconfidence,andcertainlydidnotbetrayit.Onthatandeverysubsequentoccasionhispresenceservedratherasacheckupon

his host, than an incitement to further acts of intemperance; and he alwayssucceededinbringinghimfromthedining-roomingoodtime,andintolerablygoodcondition;forifArthurdisregardedsuchintimationsas‘Well,Imustnotdetainyou fromyour lady,’ or ‘Wemust not forget thatMrs.Huntingdon isalone,’hewouldinsistuponleavingthetablehimself,tojoinme,andhishost,howeverunwillingly,wasobligedtofollow.

Hence I learned to welcomeMr. Hargrave as a real friend to the family, aharmlesscompanionforArthur,tocheerhisspiritsandpreservehimfromthetediumofabsoluteidlenessandatotalisolationfromallsocietybutmine,anda useful ally to me. I could not but feel grateful to him under suchcircumstances;andIdidnotscrupletoacknowledgemyobligationonthefirstconvenientopportunity;yet,asIdidso,myheartwhisperedallwasnotright,and brought a glow tomy face,which he heightened by his steady, seriousgaze,while,byhismannerofreceivingthoseacknowledgments,hemorethandoubled my misgivings. His high delight at being able to serve me waschastenedbysympathyformeandcommiserationforhimself—about,Iknownotwhat,forIwouldnotstaytoinquire,orsufferhimtounburdenhissorrowsto me. His sighs and intimations of suppressed affliction seemed to comefrom a full heart; but either he must contrive to retain them within it, orbreathe them forth in other ears thanmine: therewas enoughof confidencebetween us already. It seemed wrong that there should exist a secretunderstanding between my husband’s friend and me, unknown to him, ofwhich hewas the object. Butmy after-thoughtwas, ‘If it iswrong, surelyArthur’sisthefault,notmine.’

And indeed I knownotwhether, at the time, itwas not for him rather thanmyself that I blushed; for, since he and I are one, I so identifymyselfwithhim,thatIfeelhisdegradation,hisfailings,andtransgressionsasmyown:Iblushforhim,Ifearforhim;Irepentforhim,weep,pray,andfeelforhimasformyself;butIcannotactforhim;andhenceImustbe,andIam,debased,contaminatedbytheunion,bothinmyowneyesandintheactualtruth.Iamsodeterminedtolovehim,sointenselyanxioustoexcusehiserrors,thatIamcontinuallydwellinguponthem,andlabouringtoextenuatetheloosestofhisprinciplesandtheworstofhispractices, tillIamfamiliarisedwithvice,andalmostapartakerinhissins.Thingsthatformerlyshockedanddisgustedme,nowseemonlynatural.Iknowthemtobewrong,becausereasonandGod’sworddeclare themtobeso;but Iamgradually losing that instinctivehorrorand repulsion which were given me by nature, or instilled into me by theprecepts and example of my aunt. Perhaps then I was too severe in myjudgments,forIabhorredthesinneraswellasthesin;nowIflattermyselfIammorecharitableandconsiderate;butamInotbecomingmore indifferentand insensate too? Fool that Iwas, to dream that I had strength and purity

enough to save myself and him! Such vain presumption would be rightlyserved, if I should perishwith him in the gulf fromwhich I sought to savehim!Yet,Godpreservemefromit,andhimtoo!Yes,poorArthur,Iwillstillhope and pray for you; and though Iwrite as if youwere some abandonedwretch, past hope and past reprieve, it is onlymy anxious fears,my strongdesiresthatmakemedoso;onewholovedyoulesswouldbelessbitter,lessdissatisfied.

Hisconducthas,oflate,beenwhattheworldcallsirreproachable;butthenIknowhisheartisstillunchanged;andIknowthatspringisapproaching,anddeeplydreadtheconsequences.

Ashebegantorecoverthetoneandvigourofhisexhaustedframe,andwithitsomething of his former impatience of retirement and repose, I suggested ashortresidencebythesea-side,forhisrecreationandfurtherrestoration,andfor the benefit of our little one as well. But no: watering-places were sointolerablydull;besides,hehadbeeninvitedbyoneofhisfriendstospendamonthortwoinScotlandforthebetterrecreationofgrouse-shootinganddeer-stalking,andhadpromisetogo.

‘Thenyouwillleavemeagain,Arthur?’saidI.

‘Yes,dearest,butonlytoloveyouthebetterwhenIcomeback,andmakeupfor all past offences and short-comings; and you needn’t fearme this time:therearenotemptationsonthemountains.Andduringmyabsenceyoumaypay a visit to Staningley, if you like: your uncle and aunt have long beenwanting us to go there, you know; but somehow there’s such a repulsionbetween the good lady and me, that I never could bring myself up to thescratch.’

AboutthethirdweekinAugust,ArthursetoutforScotland,andMr.Hargraveaccompaniedhimthither,tomyprivatesatisfaction.Shortlyafter,I,withlittleArthurandRachel,went toStaningley,mydearoldhome,which,aswellasmy dear old friends its inhabitants, I saw again with mingled feelings ofpleasure andpain so intimatelyblended that I could scarcelydistinguish theonefromtheother,ortell towhichtoattributethevarioustears,andsmiles,andsighsawakenedbythoseoldfamiliarscenes,andtones,andfaces.

ArthurdidnotcomehometillseveralweeksaftermyreturntoGrassdale;butI did not feel so anxious about himnow; to think of him engaged in activesportsamongthewildhillsofScotland,wasverydifferentfromknowinghimtobeimmersedamidthecorruptionsandtemptationsofLondon.Hislettersnow;thoughneitherlongnorloverlike,weremoreregularthanevertheyhadbeenbefore;andwhenhedidreturn,tomygreatjoy,insteadofbeingworsethanwhenhewent, hewasmore cheerful andvigorous, andbetter in every

respect. Since that timeIhavehad littlecause tocomplain. Hestillhasanunfortunatepredilectionforthepleasuresofthetable,againstwhichIhavetostruggle and watch; but he has begun to notice his boy, and that is anincreasing source of amusement to himwithin-doors, while his fox-huntingandcoursingareasufficientoccupationforhimwithout,whenthegroundisnot hardened by frost; so that he is not wholly dependent on me forentertainment. But it isnowJanuary;spring isapproaching;and, I repeat, Idreadtheconsequencesof itsarrival. Thatsweetseason,Ioncesojoyouslywelcomed as the time of hope and gladness, awakens now far otheranticipationsbyitsreturn.

CHAPTERXXXI

March 20th, 1824. The dreaded time is come, and Arthur is gone, as Iexpected.ThistimeheannouncedithisintentiontomakebutashortstayinLondon,andpassovertotheContinent,whereheshouldprobablystayafewweeks; but I shall not expect him till after the lapse ofmanyweeks: I nowknowthat,withhim,dayssignifyweeks,andweeksmonths.

July 30th.—He returned about three weeks ago, rather better in health,certainly,thanbefore,butstillworseintemper.Andyet,perhaps,Iamwrong:itisIthatamlesspatientandforbearing.Iamtiredoutwithhisinjustice,hisselfishnessandhopelessdepravity. Iwishamilderwordwoulddo;Iamnoangel, and my corruption rises against it. My poor father died last week:Arthurwasvexedtohearofit,becausehesawthatIwasshockedandgrieved,and he feared the circumstance would mar his comfort. When I spoke oforderingmymourning, he exclaimed,—‘Oh, I hate black! But, however, Isuppose you must wear it awhile, for form’s sake; but I hope, Helen, youwon’t think it your bounden duty to compose your face and manners intoconformitywithyourfunerealgarb.Whyshouldyousighandgroan,andIbemadeuncomfortable,becauseanoldgentlemanin—shire,aperfectstrangertousboth,hasthoughtpropertodrinkhimselftodeath?There,now,Ideclareyou’recrying!Well,itmustbeaffectation.’

Hewouldnothearofmyattendingthefuneral,orgoingforadayortwo,tocheerpoorFrederick’ssolitude.Itwasquiteunnecessary,hesaid,andIwasunreasonabletowishit.Whatwasmyfathertome?IhadneverseenhimbutoncesinceIwasababy,andIwellknewhehadnevercaredastiveraboutme;andmybrother, too,was littlebetter thanastranger. ‘Besides,dearHelen,’said he, embracing me with flattering fondness, ‘I cannot spare you for asingleday.’

‘Thenhowhaveyoumanagedwithoutmethesemanydays?’saidI.

‘Ah! then I was knocking about the world, now I am at home, and homewithoutyou,myhouseholddeity,wouldbeintolerable.’

‘Yes,aslongasIamnecessarytoyourcomfort;butyoudidnotsaysobefore,whenyouurgedmetoleaveyou,inorderthatyoumightgetawayfromyourhomewithoutme,’retortedI;butbeforethewordswerewelloutofmymouth,I regretted having uttered them. It seemed so heavy a charge: if false, toogross an insult; if true, too humiliating a fact to be thus openly cast in histeeth.ButImighthavesparedmyselfthatmomentarypangofself-reproach.The accusation awoke neither shame nor indignation in him: he attemptedneither denial nor excuse, but only answered with a long, low, chucklinglaugh, as if he viewed the whole transaction as a clever, merry jest frombeginningtoend.Surelythatmanwillmakemedislikehimatlast!

Sineasyebrew,mymaidenfair,Keepmindthatyemaundrinktheyill.

Yes;andIwilldrinkittotheverydregs:andnonebutmyselfshallknowhowbitterIfindit!

August20th.—Weareshakendownagaintoaboutourusualposition.Arthurhasreturnedtonearlyhisformerconditionandhabits;andIhavefounditmywisestplantoshutmyeyesagainstthepastandfuture,asfarashe,atleast,isconcerned,andliveonlyforthepresent:tolovehimwhenIcan;tosmile(ifpossible)whenhesmiles,becheerfulwhenheischeerful,andpleasedwhenheisagreeable;andwhenheisnot, totrytomakehimso;andif thatwon’tanswer,tobearwithhim,toexcusehim,andforgivehimaswellasIcan,andrestrainmyownevilpassionsfromaggravatinghis;andyet,whileIthusyieldandministertohismoreharmlesspropensitiestoself-indulgence,todoallinmypowertosavehimfromtheworse.

But we shall not be long alone together. I shall shortly be called upon toentertain the same select body of friends aswe had the autumn before last,with the addition ofMr.Hattersley and, atmy special request, hiswife andchild.IlongtoseeMilicent,andherlittlegirltoo.Thelatterisnowaboveayearold;shewillbeacharmingplaymateformylittleArthur.

September30th.—Ourguestshavebeenhereaweekortwo;butIhavehadnoleisuretopassanycommentsuponthemtillnow.Icannotgetovermydisliketo Lady Lowborough. It is not founded on mere personal pique; it is thewoman herself that I dislike, because I so thoroughly disapprove of her. Ialways avoid her company as much as I can without violating the laws ofhospitality;butwhenwedospeakorconversetogether, it iswiththeutmostcivility, even apparent cordiality on her part; but preserve me from such

cordiality!Itislikehandlingbrier-rosesandmay-blossoms,brightenoughtothe eye, and outwardly soft to the touch, but you know there are thornsbeneath, and every now and then you feel them too; and perhaps resent theinjury by crushing them in till you have destroyed their power, thoughsomewhattothedetrimentofyourownfingers.

Oflate,however,IhaveseennothinginherconducttowardsArthurtoangeroralarmme.DuringthefirstfewdaysIthoughtsheseemedverysolicitoustowinhisadmiration.Hereffortswerenotunnoticedbyhim:Ifrequentlysawhimsmilingtohimselfatherartfulmanoeuvres:but,tohispraisebeitspoken,her shafts fell powerless by his side. Her most bewitching smiles, herhaughtiestfrownswereeverreceivedwiththesameimmutable,carelessgood-humour; till, findinghewas indeed impenetrable, she suddenly remittedherefforts,andbecame,toallappearance,asperfectlyindifferentashimself.NorhaveIsincewitnessedanysymptomofpiqueonhispart,orrenewedattemptsatconquestuponhers.

Thisisasitshouldbe;butArthurneverwill letmebesatisfiedwithhim. Ihavenever,forasinglehoursinceImarriedhim,knownwhatitistorealisethatsweet idea, ‘Inquietnessandconfidenceshallbeyour rest.’ Those twodetestablemen,GrimsbyandHattersley,havedestroyedallmylabouragainsthis love of wine. They encourage him daily to overstep the bounds ofmoderation, and not unfrequently to disgrace himself by positive excess. Ishallnotsoonforgetthesecondnightaftertheirarrival.JustasIhadretiredfrom the dining-roomwith the ladies, before the door was closed upon us,Arthur exclaimed,—‘Now then, my lads, what say you to a regularjollification?’

Milicentglancedatmewithahalf-reproachfullook,asifIcouldhinderit;buthercountenancechangedwhensheheardHattersley’svoice,shoutingthroughdoorandwall,—‘I’myourman!Sendformorewine:hereisn’thalfenough!’

We had scarcely entered the drawing-room before wewere joined by LordLowborough.

‘What can induce you to come so soon?’ exclaimed his lady, with a mostungraciousairofdissatisfaction.

‘YouknowIneverdrink,Annabella,’repliedheseriously.

‘Well, but youmight stay with them a little: it looks so silly to be alwaysdanglingafterthewomen;Iwonderyoucan!’

Hereproachedherwithalookofmingledbitternessandsurprise,and,sinkingintoachair,suppressedaheavysigh,bithispalelips,andfixedhiseyesuponthefloor.

‘You did right to leave them, Lord Lowborough,’ said I. ‘I trust you willalwayscontinuetohonourussoearlywithyourcompany.AndifAnnabellaknew the value of true wisdom, and the misery of folly and—andintemperance,shewouldnottalksuchnonsense—eveninjest.’

He raisedhis eyeswhile I spoke, andgravely turned themuponme,with ahalf-surprised,half-abstractedlook,andthenbentthemonhiswife.

‘At least,’ said she, ‘I know the value of a warm heart and a bold, manlyspirit.’

‘Well,Annabella,’ saidhe, inadeepandhollow tone, ‘sincemypresence isdisagreeabletoyou,Iwillrelieveyouofit.’

‘Areyougoingbacktothem,then?’saidshe,carelessly.

‘No,’exclaimedhe,withharshandstartlingemphasis.‘Iwillnotgobacktothem!AndIwillneverstaywiththemonemomentlongerthanIthinkright,foryouoranyothertempter!Butyouneedn’tmindthat;Ishallnevertroubleyouagainbyintrudingmycompanyuponyousounseasonably.’

Helefttheroom:Iheardthehall-dooropenandshut,andimmediatelyafter,on putting aside the curtain, I saw him pacing down the park, in thecomfortlessgloomofthedamp,cloudytwilight.

‘Itwouldserveyouright,Annabella,’saidI,at length,‘ifLordLowboroughwere to return to his old habits, which had so nearly effected his ruin, andwhichitcosthimsuchanefforttobreak:youwouldthenseecausetorepentsuchconductasthis.’

‘Not at all, my dear! I should not mind if his lordship were to see fit tointoxicatehimselfeveryday:Ishouldonlythesoonerberidofhim.’

‘Oh,Annabella!’ criedMilicent. ‘Howcanyou say suchwicked things! Itwould, indeed, be a just punishment, as far as you are concerned, ifProvidenceshouldtakeyouatyourword,andmakeyoufeelwhatothersfeel,that—‘Shepausedasasuddenburstofloudtalkingandlaughterreachedusfrom the dining-room, in which the voice of Hattersley was pre-eminentlyconspicuous,eventomyunpractisedear.

‘What you feel at thismoment, I suppose?’ said Lady Lowborough,with amalicioussmile,fixinghereyesuponhercousin’sdistressedcountenance.

Thelatterofferednoreply,butavertedherfaceandbrushedawayatear.AtthatmomentthedooropenedandadmittedMr.Hargrave,justalittleflushed,hisdarkeyessparklingwithunwontedvivacity.

‘Oh,I’msogladyou’recome,Walter?’criedhissister.‘ButIwishyoucould

havegotRalphtocometoo.’

‘Utterlyimpossible,dearMilicent,’repliedhe,gaily.‘Ihadmuchadotogetaway myself. Ralph attempted to keep me by violence; Huntingdonthreatenedmewiththeeternallossofhisfriendship;andGrimsby,worsethanall,endeavouredtomakemeashamedofmyvirtue,bysuchgallingsarcasmsand innuendoesasheknewwouldwoundme themost. Soyou see, ladies,yououghttomakemewelcomewhenIhavebravedandsufferedsomuchforthefavourofyoursweetsociety.’Hesmilinglyturnedtomeandbowedashefinishedthesentence.

‘Isn’t he handsome now, Helen!’ whispered Milicent, her sisterly prideovercoming,forthemoment,allotherconsiderations.

‘Hewouldbe,’ I returned, ‘if thatbrillianceofeye,and lip, andcheekwerenaturaltohim;butlookagain,afewhourshence.’

Herethegentlemantookaseatnearmeatthetable,andpetitionedforacupofcoffee.

‘I consider this an apt illustration of heaven taken by storm,’ said he, as Ihandedonetohim.‘Iaminparadise,now;butIhavefoughtmywaythroughfloodandfire towinit. RalphHattersley’s lastresourcewastosethisbackagainstthedoor,andswearIshouldfindnopassagebutthroughhisbody(aprettysubstantialonetoo).Happily,however,thatwasnottheonlydoor,andI effectedmyescapeby the side entrance through thebutler’spantry, to theinfiniteamazementofBenson,whowascleaningtheplate.’

Mr. Hargrave laughed, and so did his cousin; but his sister and I remainedsilentandgrave.

‘Pardon my levity, Mrs. Huntingdon,’ murmured he, more seriously, as heraisedhiseyestomyface.‘Youarenotusedtothesethings:yousufferthemtoaffectyourdelicatemindtoosensibly.ButIthoughtofyouinthemidstofthose lawless roysterers; and I endeavoured to persuadeMr. Huntingdon tothink of you too; but to no purpose: I fear he is fully determined to enjoyhimselfthisnight;anditwillbenousekeepingthecoffeewaitingforhimorhiscompanions;itwillbemuchiftheyjoinusattea.Meantime,IearnestlywishIcouldbanishthethoughtsofthemfromyourmind—andmyowntoo,forIhatetothinkofthem—yes—evenofmydearfriendHuntingdon,whenIconsider thepowerhepossessesover thehappinessofoneso immeasurablysuperiortohimself,andtheusehemakesofit—Ipositivelydetesttheman!’

‘Youhadbetternotsaysotome,then,’saidI;‘for,badasheis,heispartofmyself,andyoucannotabusehimwithoutoffendingme.’

‘Pardonme,then,forIwouldsoonerdiethanoffendyou. Butletussayno

moreofhimforthepresent,ifyouplease.’

Atlasttheycame;butnottillafterten,whentea,whichhadbeendelayedformore than half an hour, was nearly over. Much as I had longed for theircoming, my heart failed me at the riotous uproar of their approach; andMilicentturnedpale,andalmoststartedfromherseat,asMr.Hattersleyburstintotheroomwithaclamorousvolleyofoathsinhismouth,whichHargraveendeavouredtocheckbyentreatinghimtoremembertheladies.

‘Ah!youdowelltoremindmeoftheladies,youdastardlydeserter,’criedhe,shakinghisformidablefistathisbrother-in-law.‘Ifitwerenotforthem,youwellknow,I’ddemolishyouinthetwinklingofaneye,andgiveyourbodytothe fowls of heaven and the lilies of the fields!’ Then, planting a chair byLadyLowborough’sside,hestationedhimself in it,andbegan to talk toherwithamixtureofabsurdityandimpudencethatseemedrathertoamusethantooffendher;thoughsheaffectedtoresenthisinsolence,andtokeephimatbaywithsalliesofsmartandspiritedrepartee.

Meantime Mr. Grimsby seated himself by me, in the chair vacated byHargraveastheyentered,andgravelystatedthathewouldthankmeforacupoftea:andArthurplacedhimselfbesidepoorMilicent,confidentiallypushinghisheadintoherface,anddrawinginclosertoherassheshrankawayfromhim.HewasnotsonoisyasHattersley,buthisfacewasexceedinglyflushed:helaughedincessantly,andwhileIblushedforallIsawandheardofhim,Iwasgladthathechosetotalktohiscompanioninsolowatonethatnoonecouldhearwhathesaidbutherself.

‘What fools theyare!’drawledMr.Grimsby,whohadbeen talkingaway, atmy elbow, with sententious gravity all the time; but I had been too muchabsorbed in contemplating the deplorable state of the other two—especiallyArthur—toattendtohim.

‘Did you ever hear such nonsense as they talk, Mrs. Huntingdon?’ hecontinued.‘I’mquiteashamedofthemformypart:theycan’ttakesomuchasabottlebetweenthemwithoutitsgettingintotheirheads—’

‘Youarepouringthecreamintoyoursaucer,Mr.Grimsby.’

‘Ah! yes, I see, but we’re almost in darkness here. Hargrave, snuff thosecandles,willyou?’

‘They’rewax;theydon’trequiresnuffing,’saidI.

‘“Thelightofthebodyistheeye,”’observedHargrave,withasarcasticsmile.‘“Ifthineeyebesingle,thywholebodyshallbefulloflight.”’

Grimsby repulsedhimwith a solemnwaveof thehand, and then turning to

me, continued, with the same drawling tones and strange uncertainty ofutterance and heavy gravity of aspect as before: ‘But as Iwas saying,Mrs.Huntingdon, they have no head at all: they can’t take half a bottle withoutbeingaffectedsomeway;whereasI—well,I’vetakenthreetimesasmuchastheyhaveto-night,andyouseeI’mperfectlysteady.Nowthatmaystrikeyouasverysingular,butI thinkIcanexplainit:youseetheirbrains—Imentionnonames, but you’ll understand towhom I allude—their brains are light tobeginwith,andthefumesofthefermentedliquorrenderthemlighterstill,andproduce an entire light-headedness, or giddiness, resulting in intoxication;whereas my brains, being composed of more solid materials, will absorb aconsiderablequantityof this alcoholicvapourwithout theproductionof anysensibleresult—’

‘I thinkyouwill findasensible resultproducedon that tea,’ interruptedMr.Hargrave,‘bythequantityofsugaryouhaveputintoit.Insteadofyourusualcomplementofonelump,youhaveputinsix.’

‘HaveIso?’replied thephilosopher,divingwithhisspooninto thecup,andbringing up several half-dissolved pieces in confirmation of the assertion.‘Hum! I perceive. Thus,Madam,you see the evil of absenceofmind—ofthinkingtoomuchwhileengagedinthecommonconcernsoflife. Now,ifIhad hadmywits about me, like ordinarymen, instead of withinme like aphilosopher,Ishouldnothavespoiledthiscupoftea,andbeenconstrainedtotroubleyouforanother.’

‘That is thesugar-basin,Mr.Grimsby. Nowyouhavespoiledthesugar too;andI’llthankyoutoringforsomemore,forhereisLordLowboroughatlast;andIhopehislordshipwillcondescendtositdownwithus,suchasweare,andallowmetogivehimsometea.’

His lordship gravely bowed in answer to my appeal, but said nothing.Meantime, Hargrave volunteered to ring for the sugar, while Grimsbylamentedhismistake,andattemptedtoprovethatitwasowingtotheshadowoftheurnandthebadnessofthelights.

LordLowboroughhadenteredaminuteortwobefore,unobservedbyanyonebut me, and had been standing before the door, grimly surveying thecompany. Henowsteppedup toAnnabella,whosatwithherback towardshim,withHattersley stillbesideher, thoughnotnowattending toher,beingoccupiedinvociferouslyabusingandbullyinghishost.

‘Well,Annabella,’ said her husband, as he leant over the back of her chair,‘whichofthesethree“bold,manlyspirits”wouldyouhavemetoresemble?’

‘Byheavenandearth,youshallresembleusall!’criedHattersley,startingupand rudely seizinghimby thearm. ‘Hallo,Huntingdon!’he shouted—‘I’ve

gothim!Come,man,andhelpme!Andd—nme,ifIdon’tmakehimdrunkbeforeIlethimgo!HeshallmakeupforallpastdelinquenciesassureasI’malivingsoul!’

Therefollowedadisgracefulcontest:LordLowborough,indesperateearnest,andpalewithanger, silently struggling to releasehimself from thepowerfulmadman thatwas striving to drag him from the room. I attempted to urgeArthurtointerfereinbehalfofhisoutragedguest,buthecoulddonothingbutlaugh.

‘Huntingdon, you fool, come and help me, can’t you!’ cried Hattersley,himselfsomewhatweakenedbyhisexcesses.

‘I’mwishingyouGod-speed,Hattersley,’criedArthur, ‘andaidingyouwithmyprayers:Ican’tdoanythingelseifmylifedependedonit!I’mquiteusedup.Oh—oh!’andleaningbackinhisseat,heclappedhishandsonhissidesandgroanedaloud.

‘Annabella,givemeacandle!’saidLowborough,whoseantagonisthadnowgothimroundthewaistandwasendeavouringtoroothimfromthedoor-post,towhichhemadlyclungwithalltheenergyofdesperation.

‘Ishalltakenopartinyourrudesports!’repliedtheladycoldlydrawingback.‘Iwonder you can expect it.’ But I snatchedup a candle andbrought it tohim. He took itandheld the flame toHattersley’shands, till, roaring likeawildbeast,thelatterunclaspedthemandlethimgo.Hevanished,Isupposeto his own apartment, for nothingmore was seen of him till the morning.Swearing and cursing like a maniac, Hattersley threw himself on to theottomanbesidethewindow.Thedoorbeingnowfree,Milicentattemptedtomakeherescapefromthesceneofherhusband’sdisgrace;buthecalledherback,andinsisteduponhercomingtohim.

‘Whatdoyouwant,Ralph?’murmuredshe,reluctantlyapproachinghim.

‘Iwanttoknowwhat’sthematterwithyou,’saidhe,pullingherontohiskneelikeachild.‘Whatareyoucryingfor,Milicent?—Tellme!’

‘I’mnotcrying.’

‘Youare,’persistedhe,rudelypullingherhandsfromherface.‘Howdareyoutellsuchalie!’

‘I’mnotcryingnow,’pleadedshe.

‘Butyouhavebeen,andjustthisminutetoo;andIwillknowwhatfor.Come,now,youshalltellme!’

‘Doletmealone,Ralph!Remember,wearenotathome.’

‘Nomatter:youshallanswermyquestion!’exclaimedher tormentor;andheattemptedtoextorttheconfessionbyshakingher,andremorselesslycrushingherslightarmsinthegripeofhispowerfulfingers.

‘Don’tlethimtreatyoursisterinthatway,’saidItoMr.Hargrave.

‘Comenow,Hattersley,Ican’tallowthat,’saidthatgentleman,steppinguptotheill-assortedcouple.‘Letmysisteralone,ifyouplease.’

Andhemadeanefforttounclasptheruffian’sfingersfromherarm,butwassuddenlydrivenbackward,andnearlylaiduponthefloorbyaviolentblowonthe chest, accompaniedwith the admonition, ‘Take that for your insolence!andlearntointerferebetweenmeandmineagain.’

‘Ifyouwerenotdrunk,I’dhavesatisfactionforthat!’gaspedHargrave,whiteand breathless as much from passion as from the immediate effects of theblow.

‘Gotothedevil!’respondedhisbrother-in-law.‘Now,Milicent,tellmewhatyouwerecryingfor.’

‘I’lltellyousomeothertime,’murmuredshe,‘whenwearealone.’

‘Tellmenow!’saidhe,withanothershakeandasqueezethatmadeherdrawinherbreathandbiteherliptosuppressacryofpain.

‘I’ll tell you,Mr.Hattersley,’ said I. ‘Shewas crying frompure shameandhumiliationforyou;becauseshecouldnotbeartoseeyouconductyourselfsodisgracefully.’

‘Confoundyou,Madam!’mutteredhe,withastareofstupidamazementatmy‘impudence.’‘Itwasnotthat—wasit,Milicent?’

Shewassilent.

‘Come,speakup,child!’

‘Ican’ttellnow,’sobbedshe.

‘Butyoucansay“yes”or“no”aswellas“Ican’ttell.”—Come!’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, hanging her head, and blushing at the awfulacknowledgment.

‘Curseyou foran impertinenthussy, then!’criedhe, throwingher fromhimwithsuchviolencethatshefellonherside;butshewasupagainbeforeeitherIorherbrothercouldcometoherassistance,andmadethebestofherwayoutoftheroom,and,Isuppose,up-stairs,withoutlossoftime.

Thenextobjectof assaultwasArthur,who satopposite, andhad,nodoubt,

richlyenjoyedthewholescene.

‘Now,Huntingdon,’exclaimedhisirasciblefriend,‘Iwillnothaveyousittingthereandlaughinglikeanidiot!’

‘Oh,Hattersley,’criedhe,wipinghisswimmingeyes—‘you’llbethedeathofme.’

‘Yes,Iwill,butnotasyousuppose:I’llhavetheheartoutofyourbody,man,ifyouirritatemewithanymoreofthatimbecilelaughter!—What!areyouatit yet?—There! see if that’ll settle you!’ cried Hattersley, snatching up afootstoolandhurting it at theheadofhishost;butheaswell asmissedhisaim, and the latter still sat collapsed and quakingwith feeble laughter,withtearsrunningdownhisface:adeplorablespectacleindeed.

Hattersley tried cursing and swearing, but it would not do: he then took anumberofbooksfromthetablebesidehim,andthrewthem,onebyone,attheobjectofhiswrath;butArthuronlylaughedthemore;and,finally,Hattersleyrushed upon him in a frenzy and seizing him by the shoulders, gave him aviolentshaking,underwhichhelaughedandshriekedalarmingly.ButIsawnomore:IthoughtIhadwitnessedenoughofmyhusband’sdegradation;andleavingAnnabellaand the rest to followwhen theypleased, Iwithdrew,butnottobed.DismissingRacheltoherrest,Iwalkedupanddownmyroom,inanagonyofmiseryforwhathadbeendone,andsuspense,notknowingwhatmightfurtherhappen,orhoworwhenthatunhappycreaturewouldcomeuptobed.

At last he came, slowly and stumblingly ascending the stairs, supported byGrimsby and Hattersley, who neither of them walked quite steadilythemselves, but were both laughing and joking at him, and making noiseenoughforalltheservantstohear.Hehimselfwasnolongerlaughingnow,butsickandstupid.Iwillwritenomoreaboutthat.

Suchdisgracefulscenes(ornearlysuch)havebeenrepeatedmorethanonce.Idon’t saymuch toArthurabout it, for, if Idid, itwoulddomoreharm thangood; but I let himknow that I intensely dislike such exhibitions; and eachtimehehaspromised they shouldnever againbe repeated. But I fearhe islosingthelittleself-commandandself-respectheoncepossessed:formerly,hewould have been ashamed to act thus—at least, before any other witnessesthan his boon companions, or such as they. His friend Hargrave, with aprudenceandself-governmentthatIenvyforhim,neverdisgraceshimselfbytakingmorethansufficienttorenderhimalittle‘elevated,’andisalwaysthefirsttoleavethetableafterLordLowborough,who,wiserstill,perseveresinvacating the dining-room immediately after us: but never once, sinceAnnabella offended him so deeply, has he entered the drawing-room before

therest;alwaysspendingtheinteriminthelibrary,whichItakecaretohavelightedforhisaccommodation;or,onfinemoonlightnights,inroamingaboutthe grounds. But I think she regrets her misconduct, for she has neverrepeated it since, and of late she has comported herself with wonderfulpropriety towards him, treating him with more uniform kindness andconsideration thanever Ihaveobservedher todobefore. Idate the timeofthis improvement from the period when she ceased to hope and strive forArthur’sadmiration.

CHAPTERXXXII

October 5th.—Esther Hargrave is getting a fine girl. She is not out of theschool-room yet, but her mother frequently brings her over to call in themorningswhenthegentlemenareout,andsometimesshespendsanhourortwoincompanywithhersisterandme,andthechildren;andwhenwegototheGrove,Ialwayscontrivetoseeher,andtalkmoretoherthantoanyoneelse, for Iamverymuchattached tomylittle friend,andso isshe tome. Iwonderwhatshecanseetolikeinmethough,forIamnolongerthehappy,lively girl I used to be; but she has no other society, save that of heruncongenialmother,andhergoverness(asartificialandconventionalapersonas thatprudentmothercouldprocure to rectify thepupil’snaturalqualities),and,nowandthen,hersubdued,quietsister.Ioftenwonderwhatwillbeherlot in life, and so does she; but her speculations on the future are full ofbuoyanthope;soweremineonce.Ishuddertothinkofherbeingawakened,likeme, to a senseof theirdelusivevanity. It seemsas if I should feelherdisappointment, evenmore deeply thanmyown. I feel almost as if Iwerebornforsuchafate,butsheissojoyousandfresh,solightofheartandfreeofspirit,andsoguilelessandunsuspecting too. Oh, itwouldbecruel tomakeherfeelasIfeelnow,andknowwhatIhaveknown!

Hersistertremblesforhertoo.Yesterdaymorning,oneofOctober’sbrightest,loveliest days,Milicent and Iwere in the garden enjoying a brief half-hourtogetherwith our children,whileAnnabellawas lying on the drawing-roomsofa, deep in the last new novel. We had been romping with the littlecreatures, almost as merry and wild as themselves, and now paused in theshade of the tall copper beech, to recover breath and rectify our hair,disordered by the rough play and the frolicsome breeze,while they toddledtogetheralongthebroad,sunnywalk;myArthursupportingthefeeblerstepsofherlittleHelen,andsagaciouslypointingouttoherthebrightestbeautiesoftheborderastheypassed,withsemi-articulateprattle,thatdidaswellforherasanyothermodeofdiscourse.Fromlaughingattheprettysight,webegan

to talk of the children’s future life; and that made us thoughtful. We bothrelapsedintosilentmusingasweslowlyproceededupthewalk;andIsupposeMilicent,byatrainofassociations,wasledtothinkofhersister.

‘Helen,’saidshe,‘youoftenseeEsther,don’tyou?’

‘Notveryoften.’

‘ButyouhavemorefrequentopportunitiesofmeetingherthanIhave;andsheloves you, I know, and reverences you too: there is nobody’s opinion shethinkssomuchof;andshesaysyouhavemoresensethanmamma.’

‘That isbecausesheisself-willed,andmyopinionsmoregenerallycoincidewithherownthanyourmamma’s.Butwhatthen,Milicent?’

‘Well,sinceyouhavesomuchinfluencewithher,Iwishyouwouldseriouslyimpress it upon her, never, on any account, or for anybody’s persuasion, tomarryfor thesakeofmoney,or rank,orestablishment,oranyearthly thing,buttrueaffectionandwell-groundedesteem.’

‘Thereisnonecessityforthat,’saidI,‘forwehavehadsomediscourseonthatsubject already, and I assure you her ideas of love and matrimony are asromanticasanyonecoulddesire.’

‘Butromanticnotionswillnotdo:Iwanthertohavetruenotions.’

‘Very right: but inmy judgment,what theworld stigmatises as romantic, isoftenmore nearly allied to the truth than is commonly supposed; for, if thegenerous ideas of youth are too often over-clouded by the sordid views ofafter-life,thatscarcelyprovesthemtobefalse.’

‘Well,but ifyouthinkher ideasarewhat theyought tobe,strengthenthem,will you? and confirm them, as far as you can; for I had romantic notionsonce,and—Idon’tmeantosaythatIregretmylot,forIamquitesureIdon’t,but—’

‘Iunderstandyou,’saidI;‘youarecontentedforyourself,butyouwouldnothaveyoursistertosufferthesameasyou.’

‘No—orworse. Shemight have farworse to suffer than I, for I am reallycontented, Helen, though you mayn’t think it: I speak the solemn truth insayingthatIwouldnotexchangemyhusbandforanymanonearth,ifImightdoitbythepluckingofthisleaf.’

‘Well,Ibelieveyou:nowthatyouhavehim,youwouldnotexchangehimforanother;butthenyouwouldgladlyexchangesomeofhisqualitiesforthoseofbettermen.’

‘Yes:justasIwouldgladlyexchangesomeofmyownqualitiesforthoseof

betterwomen;forneitherhenorIareperfect,andIdesirehisimprovementasearnestlyasmyown. Andhewill improve,don’tyouthinkso,Helen?he’sonlysix-and-twentyyet.’

‘Hemay,’Ianswered,

‘Hewill,heWILL!’repeatedshe.

‘Excuse the faintness ofmy acquiescence,Milicent, Iwould not discourageyourhopesfortheworld,butminehavebeensooftendisappointed,thatIambecome as cold and doubtful in my expectations as the flattest ofoctogenarians.’

‘Andyetyoudohope,still,evenforMr.Huntingdon?’

‘Ido, I confess, “even” forhim; for it seemsas if life andhopemust ceasetogether.Andishesomuchworse,Milicent,thanMr.Hattersley?’

‘Well,togiveyoumycandidopinion,Ithinkthereisnocomparisonbetweenthem.Butyoumustn’tbeoffended,Helen,foryouknowIalwaysspeakmymind,andyoumayspeakyourstoo.Isha’n’tcare.’

‘I am not offended, love; andmy opinion is, that if there be a comparisonmade between the two, the difference, for the most part, is certainly inHattersley’sfavour.’

Milicent’s own heart told her how much it cost me to make thisacknowledgment;and,withachildlike impulse, sheexpressedher sympathyby suddenly kissing my cheek, without a word of reply, and then turningquicklyaway,caughtupherbaby,andhidherfaceinitsfrock.Howodditisthatwesooftenweepforeachother’sdistresses,whenweshednotatearforour own! Her heart had been full enough of her own sorrows, but itoverflowed at the idea of mine; and I, too, shed tears at the sight of hersympatheticemotion,thoughIhadnotweptformyselfformanyaweek.

Itwasonerainydaylastweek;mostofthecompanywerekillingtimeinthebilliard-room, but Milicent and I were with little Arthur and Helen in thelibrary,andbetweenourbooks,ourchildren,andeachother,weexpectedtomakeoutaveryagreeablemorning.Wehadnotbeenthussecludedabovetwohours, however, when Mr. Hattersley came in, attracted, I suppose, by thevoiceofhischild,ashewascrossingthehall,forheisprodigiouslyfondofher,andsheofhim.

Hewasredolentof thestables,wherehehadbeenregalinghimselfwith thecompanyofhisfellow-creaturesthehorseseversincebreakfast.Butthatwasnomatter tomylittlenamesake;assoonas thecolossalpersonofherfatherdarkened the door, she uttered a shrill scream of delight, and, quitting her

mother’s side, ran crowing towards him, balancing her course withoutstretchedarms,andembracinghisknee,threwbackherheadandlaughedin his face. He might well look smilingly down upon those small, fairfeatures, radiantwith innocentmirth, thoseclearblue shiningeyes, and thatsoftflaxenhaircastbackuponthelittleivoryneckandshoulders.Didhenotthinkhowunworthyhewasofsuchapossession?Ifearnosuchideacrossedhismind.Hecaughtherup,andtherefollowedsomeminutesofveryroughplay, during which it is difficult to say whether the father or the daughterlaughedandshoutedtheloudest. Atlength,however,theboisterouspastimeterminated,suddenly,asmightbeexpected:thelittleonewashurt,andbegantocry;andtheungentleplay-fellowtosseditintoitsmother’slap,biddingher‘makeallstraight.’Ashappytoreturntothatgentlecomforterasithadbeentoleaveher,thechildnestledinherarms,andhusheditscriesinamoment;andsinkingitslittlewearyheadonherbosom,soondroppedasleep.

MeantimeMr.Hattersleystrodeuptothefire,andinterposinghisheightandbreadthbetweenusandit,stoodwitharmsakimbo,expandinghischest,andgazingroundhimasifthehouseandallitsappurtenancesandcontentswerehisownundisputedpossessions.

‘Deuced bad weather this!’ he began. ‘There’ll be no shooting to-day, Iguess.’Then,suddenlyliftinguphisvoice,heregaleduswithafewbarsofarollicking song,whichabruptly ceasing,he finished the tunewith awhistle,andthencontinued:—‘Isay,Mrs.Huntingdon,whatafinestudyourhusbandhas!not large,butgood. I’vebeen lookingat themabit thismorning; anduponmyword,BlackBoss, andGreyTom, and that youngNimrod are thefinest animals I’ve seen for many a day!’ Then followed a particulardiscussionoftheirvariousmerits,succeededbyasketchofthegreatthingsheintendedtodointhehorse-jockeyline,whenhisoldgovernorthoughtpropertoquit thestage. ‘Not thatIwishhimtoclosehisaccounts,’addedhe:‘theoldTrojaniswelcometokeephisbooksopenaslongashepleasesforme.’

‘Ihopeso,indeed,Mr.Hattersley.’

‘Oh,yes!It’sonlymywayoftalking.Theeventmustcomesometime,andsoIlooktothebrightsideofit:that’stherightplan—isn’tit,Mrs.H.?Whatareyoutwodoinghere?By-the-by,where’sLadyLowborough?’

‘Inthebilliard-room.’

‘What a splendid creature she is!’ continuedhe, fixinghis eyesonhiswife,who changed colour, and looked more and more disconcerted as heproceeded. ‘Whatanoble figure shehas; andwhatmagnificentblackeyes;andwhatafinespiritofherown;andwhatatongueofherown,too,whenshelikes touse it. I perfectly adoreher! Butnevermind,Milicent: Iwouldn’t

have her for my wife, not if she’d a kingdom for her dowry! I’m bettersatisfiedwiththeoneIhave.Nowthen!whatdoyoulooksosulkyfor?don’tyoubelieveme?’

‘Yes, I believe you,’ murmured she, in a tone of half sad, half sullenresignation,asshe turnedaway tostroke thehairofhersleeping infant, thatshehadlaidonthesofabesideher.

‘Well,then,whatmakesyousocross?Comehere,Milly,andtellmewhyyoucan’tbesatisfiedwithmyassurance.’

Shewent,andputtingherlittlehandwithinhisarm,lookedupinhisface,andsaidsoftly,—

‘What does it amount to, Ralph? Only to this, that though you admireAnnabella so much, and for qualities that I don’t possess, you would stillrather haveme than her for yourwife,whichmerely proves that you don’tthink it necessary to love yourwife; you are satisfied if she can keep yourhouse, and take careofyour child. But I’mnot cross; I’monly sorry; for,’addedshe,inalow,tremulousaccent,withdrawingherhandfromhisarm,andbendingherlooksontherug,‘ifyoudon’tloveme,youdon’t,anditcan’tbehelped.’

‘Verytrue;butwhotoldyouIdidn’t?DidIsayIlovedAnnabella?’

‘Yousaidyouadoredher.’

‘True,butadorationisn’tlove.IadoreAnnabella,butIdon’tloveher;andIlove thee, Milicent, but I don’t adore thee.’ In proof of his affection, heclutched a handful of her light brown ringlets, and appeared to twist themunmercifully.

‘Doyoureally,Ralph?’murmuredshe,withafaintsmilebeamingthroughhertears,justputtingupherhandtohis,intokenthathepulledrathertoohard.

‘TobesureIdo,’respondedhe:‘onlyyoubothermerather,sometimes.’

‘Ibotheryou!’criedshe,inverynaturalsurprise.

‘Yes, you—but only by your exceeding goodness. When a boy has beeneatingraisinsandsugar-plumsallday,helongsforasqueezeofsourorangebywayofachange.Anddidyounever,Milly,observethesandsonthesea-shore;howniceandsmooththeylook,andhowsoftandeasytheyfeeltothefoot? But if you plod along, for half an hour, over this soft, easy carpet—givingwayateverystep,yieldingthemoretheharderyoupress,—you’llfinditratherwearisomework,andbegladenoughtocometoabitofgood,firmrock,thatwon’tbudgeaninchwhetheryoustand,walk,orstampuponit;and,thoughitbehardasthenethermillstone,you’llfindittheeasierfootingafter

all.’

‘I know what you mean, Ralph,’ said she, nervously playing with herwatchguardandtracingthefigureontherugwiththepointofhertinyfoot—‘Iknowwhatyoumean:butI thoughtyoualwayslikedtobeyieldedto,andIcan’talternow.’

‘Idolikeit,’repliedhe,bringinghertohimbyanothertugatherhair.‘Youmustn’tmindmytalk,Milly.Amanmusthavesomethingtogrumbleabout;andifhecan’tcomplainthathiswifeharrieshimtodeathwithherperversityand ill-humour, hemust complain that shewears himoutwithher kindnessandgentleness.’

‘Butwhycomplainatall,unlessbecauseyouaretiredanddissatisfied?’

‘Toexcusemyownfailings,tobesure.DoyouthinkI’llbearalltheburdenofmysinsonmyownshoulders,aslongasthere’sanotherreadytohelpme,withnoneofherowntocarry?’

‘Thereisnosuchoneonearth,’saidsheseriously;andthen,takinghishandfromherhead,shekisseditwithanairofgenuinedevotion,andtrippedawaytothedoor.

‘Whatnow?’saidhe.‘Whereareyougoing?’

‘Totidymyhair,’sheanswered,smilingthroughherdisorderedlocks;‘you’vemadeitallcomedown.’

‘Offwithyouthen!—Anexcellentlittlewoman,’heremarkedwhenshewasgone, ‘buta thought toosoft—shealmostmelts inone’shands. IpositivelythinkIill-usehersometimes,whenI’vetakentoomuch—butIcan’thelpit,forshenevercomplains,eitheratthetimeorafter.Isupposeshedoesn’tmindit.’

‘Icanenlightenyouonthatsubject,Mr.Hattersley,’saidI:‘shedoesmindit;andsomeotherthingsshemindsstillmore,whichyetyoumayneverhearhercomplainof.’

‘How do you know?—does she complain to you?’ demanded he, with asuddensparkoffuryreadytoburstintoaflameifIshouldanswer“yes.”

‘No,’Ireplied;‘butIhaveknownherlongerandstudiedhermorecloselythanyouhavedone.—AndIcan tellyou,Mr.Hattersley, thatMilicent lovesyoumorethanyoudeserve,andthatyouhaveit inyourpowertomakeherveryhappy, instead ofwhich you are her evil genius, and, Iwill venture to say,thereisnotasingledaypassesinwhichyoudonotinflictuponhersomepangthatyoumightspareherifyouwould.’

‘Well—it’s not my fault,’ said he, gazing carelessly up at the ceiling andplunginghishandsintohispockets:‘ifmyongoingsdon’tsuither,sheshouldtellmeso.’

‘Isshenotexactlythewifeyouwanted?DidyounottellMr.Huntingdonyoumust have one thatwould submit to anythingwithout amurmur, and neverblameyou,whateveryoudid?’

‘True, butwe shouldn’t alwayshavewhatwewant: it spoils the best of us,doesn’t it? Howcan Ihelpplaying thedeucewhen I see it’s allone toherwhetherIbehavelikeaChristianorlikeascoundrel,suchasnaturemademe?andhowcanIhelpteasingherwhenshe’ssoinvitinglymeekandmim,whensheliesdownlikeaspanielatmyfeetandneversomuchassqueakstotellmethat’senough?’

‘If you are a tyrant by nature, the temptation is strong, I allow; but nogenerousminddelightstooppresstheweak,butrathertocherishandprotect.’

‘Idon’toppressher;but it’s soconfounded flat tobealwayscherishingandprotecting;andthen,howcanItellthatIamoppressingherwhenshe“meltsawayandmakesnosign”? I sometimes thinkshehasno feelingatall;andthenIgoontillshecries,andthatsatisfiesme.’

‘Thenyoudodelighttooppressher?’

‘Idon’t,Itellyou!onlywhenI’minabadhumour,oraparticularlygoodone,andwanttoafflictforthepleasureofcomforting;orwhenshelooksflatandwants shaking up a bit. And sometimes she provokes me by crying fornothing,andwon’ttellmewhatit’sfor;andthen,Iallow,itenragesmepastbearing,especiallywhenI’mnotmyownman.’

‘Asisnodoubtgenerallythecaseonsuchoccasions,’saidI.‘Butinfuture,Mr.Hattersley,whenyouseeherlookingflat,orcryingfor“nothing”(asyoucall it), ascribe it all to yourself: be assured it is something you have doneamiss,oryourgeneralmisconduct,thatdistressesher.’

‘Idon’tbelieveit. If itwere,sheshouldtellmeso:Idon’t likethatwayofmopingandfrettinginsilence,andsayingnothing:it’snothonest.Howcansheexpectmetomendmywaysatthatrate?’

‘Perhaps she gives you credit for havingmore sense than you possess, anddeludesherselfwith thehopethatyouwillonedayseeyourownerrorsandrepairthem,iflefttoyourownreflection.’

‘Noneofyoursneers,Mrs.Huntingdon.IhavethesensetoseethatI’mnotalwaysquitecorrect,butsometimesIthinkthat’snogreatmatter,aslongasIinjurenobodybutmyself—’

‘Itisagreatmatter,’interruptedI,‘bothtoyourself(asyouwillhereafterfindtoyourcost)andtoallconnectedwithyou,mostespeciallyyourwife. But,indeed, it is nonsense to talk about injuring no one but yourself: it isimpossibletoinjureyourself,especiallybysuchactsaswealludeto,withoutinjuringhundreds,ifnotthousands,besides,inagreaterorless,degree,eitherby the evil you do or the good you leave undone.’ ‘And as Iwas saying,’continued he, ‘or would have said if you hadn’t taken me up so short, IsometimesthinkIshoulddobetterifIwerejoinedtoonethatwouldalwaysremind me when I was wrong, and give me a motive for doing good andeschewingevil,bydecidedlyshowingherapprovaloftheoneanddisapprovaloftheother.’

‘Ifyouhadnohighermotivethantheapprovalofyourfellow-mortal,itwoulddoyoulittlegood.’

‘Well, but if I had a mate that would not always be yielding, and alwaysequallykind,butthatwouldhavethespirittostandatbaynowandthen,andhonestly tellme hermind at all times, such a one as yourself for instance.Now,ifIwentonwithyouasIdowithherwhenI’minLondon,you’dmakethehousetoohottoholdmeattimes,I’llbesworn.’

‘Youmistakeme:I’mnotermagant.’

‘Well,allthebetterforthat,forIcan’tstandcontradiction,inageneralway,andI’masfondofmyownwillasanother;onlyIthinktoomuchofitdoesn’tanswerforanyman.’

‘Well, I would never contradict you without a cause, but certainly I wouldalwaysletyouknowwhatIthoughtofyourconduct;andifyouoppressedme,in body, mind, or estate, you should at least have no reason to suppose “Ididn’tmindit.”’

‘Iknow that,my lady;and I think ifmy littlewifewere to follow thesameplan,itwouldbebetterforusboth.’

‘I’lltellher.’

‘No, no, let her be; there’smuch to be saidonboth sides, and, now I thinkuponit,Huntingdonoftenregretsthatyouarenotmorelikeher,scoundrellydog that he is, and you see, after all, you can’t reform him: he’s ten timesworse thanI. He’safraidofyou, tobesure; that is,he’salwaysonhisbestbehaviourinyourpresence—but—’

‘I wonder what his worst behaviour is like, then?’ I could not forbearobserving.

‘Why,totellyouthetruth,it’sverybadindeed—isn’tit,Hargrave?’saidhe,

addressingthatgentleman,whohadenteredtheroomunperceivedbyme,forIwasnowstandingnearthefire,withmybacktothedoor.‘Isn’tHuntingdon,’hecontinued,‘asgreatareprobateaseverwasd—d?’

‘His ladywill not hear him censuredwith impunity,’ repliedMr. Hargrave,comingforward;‘butImustsay,IthankGodIamnotsuchanother.’

‘Perhapsitwouldbecomeyoubetter,’saidI,‘tolookatwhatyouare,andsay,“Godbemercifultomeasinner.”’

‘Youaresevere,’returnedhe,bowingslightlyanddrawinghimselfupwithaproudyet injuredair. Hattersley laughed,andclappedhimon theshoulder.Movingfromunderhishandwithagestureofinsulteddignity,Mr.Hargravetookhimselfawaytotheotherendoftherug.

‘Isn’titashame,Mrs.Huntingdon?’criedhisbrother-in-law;‘IstruckWalterHargravewhenIwasdrunk,thesecondnightafterwecame,andhe’sturnedacoldshoulderonmeeversince; thoughIaskedhispardontheverymorningafteritwasdone!’

‘Yourmannerofaskingit,’returnedtheother,‘andtheclearnesswithwhichyourememberedthewholetransaction,showedyouwerenottoodrunktobefullyconsciousofwhatyouwereabout,andquiteresponsibleforthedeed.’

‘Youwantedtointerferebetweenmeandmywife,’grumbledHattersley,‘andthatisenoughtoprovokeanyman.’

‘You justify it, then?’ saidhisopponent,dartinguponhimamostvindictiveglance.

‘No,ItellyouIwouldn’thavedoneitifIhadn’tbeenunderexcitement;andifyouchoosetobearmaliceforitafterallthehandsomethingsI’vesaid,dosoandbed—d!’

‘Iwould refrain from such language in a lady’s presence, at least,’ saidMr.Hargrave,hidinghisangerunderamaskofdisgust.

‘WhathaveIsaid?’returnedHattersley:‘nothingbutheaven’struth.Hewillbe damned, won’t he,Mrs. Huntingdon, if he doesn’t forgive his brother’strespasses?’

‘Yououghttoforgivehim,Mr.Hargrave,sinceheasksyou,’saidI.

‘Do you say so? Then I will!’ And, smiling almost frankly, he steppedforward and offered his hand. It was immediately clasped in that of hisrelative,andthereconciliationwasapparentlycordialonbothsides.

‘Theaffront,’continuedHargrave, turning tome, ‘owedhalf itsbitterness tothefactofitsbeingofferedinyourpresence;andsinceyoubidmeforgiveit,I

will,andforgetittoo.’

‘I guess the best return I can make will be to take myself off,’ mutteredHattersley,withabroadgrin. Hiscompanionsmiled,andhe left the room.Thisputmeonmyguard.Mr.Hargraveturnedseriouslytome,andearnestlybegan,—

‘DearMrs.Huntingdon,howIhavelongedfor,yetdreaded,thishour!Donotbealarmed,’headded,formyfacewascrimsonwithanger:‘Iamnotabouttooffend you with any useless entreaties or complaints. I am not going topresume to trouble you with the mention of my own feelings or yourperfections,butIhavesomethingtorevealtoyouwhichyououghttoknow,andwhich,yet,itpainsmeinexpressibly—’

‘Thendon’ttroubleyourselftorevealit!’

‘Butitisofimportance—’

‘IfsoIshallhearitsoonenough,especiallyifitisbadnews,asyouseemtoconsiderit.AtpresentIamgoingtotakethechildrentothenursery.’

‘Butcan’tyouringandsendthem?’

‘No;Iwanttheexerciseofaruntothetopofthehouse.Come,Arthur.’

‘Butyouwillreturn?’

‘Notyet;don’twait.’

‘ThenwhenmayIseeyouagain?’

‘Atlunch,’saidI,departingwithlittleHeleninonearmandleadingArthurbythehand.

Heturnedaway,mutteringsomesentenceof impatientcensureorcomplaint,inwhich‘heartless’wastheonlydistinguishableword.

‘Whatnonsenseisthis,Mr.Hargrave?’saidI,pausinginthedoorway.‘Whatdoyoumean?’

‘Oh,nothing;Ididnotintendyoushouldhearmysoliloquy.Butthefactis,Mrs.Huntingdon,Ihaveadisclosure tomake,painful formetoofferasforyou to hear; and Iwant you to giveme a fewminutes of your attention inprivateatanytimeandplaceyouliketoappoint.ItisfromnoselfishmotivethatIaskit,andnotforanycausethatcouldalarmyoursuperhumanpurity:thereforeyouneednotkillmewith that lookofcoldandpitilessdisdain. Iknow too well the feelings with which the bearers of bad tidings arecommonlyregardednotto—’

‘Whatisthiswonderfulpieceofintelligence?’saidI,impatientlyinterrupting

him.‘Ifitisanythingofrealimportance,speakitinthreewordsbeforeIgo.’

‘InthreewordsIcannot.Sendthosechildrenawayandstaywithme.’

‘No;keepyourbadtidingstoyourself.IknowitissomethingIdon’twanttohear,andsomethingyouwoulddispleasemebytelling.’

‘Youhavedivinedtootruly,Ifear;butstill,sinceIknowit,Ifeelitmydutytodiscloseittoyou.’

‘Oh,spareusboththeinfliction,andIwillexonerateyoufromtheduty.Youhaveofferedtotell;Ihaverefusedtohear:myignorancewillnotbechargedonyou.’

‘Beitso:youshallnothearitfromme.Butiftheblowfalltoosuddenlyuponyouwhenitcomes,rememberIwishedtosoftenit!’

Ilefthim.Iwasdeterminedhiswordsshouldnotalarmme.Whatcouldhe,ofallmen,havetoreveal thatwasof importanceformetohear? Itwasnodoubtsomeexaggeratedtaleaboutmyunfortunatehusbandthathewishedtomakethemostoftoservehisownbadpurposes.

6th.—Hehasnotalludedtothismomentousmysterysince,andIhaveseennoreasontorepentofmyunwillingnesstohearit.Thethreatenedblowhasnotbeen struck yet, and I do not greatly fear it. At present I am pleasedwithArthur:hehasnotpositivelydisgracedhimselfforupwardsofafortnight,andall this lastweekhasbeensoverymoderate inhis indulgenceat table that Icanperceiveamarkeddifferenceinhisgeneraltemperandappearance.DareIhopethiswillcontinue?

CHAPTERXXXIII

Seventh.—Yes, I will hope! To-night I heard Grimsby and Hattersleygrumblingtogetherabouttheinhospitalityoftheirhost.TheydidnotknowIwasnear, forIhappenedtobestandingbehindthecurtain in thebowof thewindow,watchingthemoonrisingovertheclumpoftalldarkelm-treesbelowthelawn,andwonderingwhyArthurwassosentimentalastostandwithout,leaningagainsttheouterpillaroftheportico,apparentlywatchingittoo.

‘So,Isupposewe’veseenthelastofourmerrycarousalsinthishouse,’saidMr.Hattersley;‘Ithoughthisgood-fellowshipwouldn’tlastlong.But,’addedhe,laughing,‘Ididn’texpectitwouldmeetitsendthisway.Iratherthoughtourprettyhostesswouldbesettingupherporcupinequills,andthreateningtoturnusoutofthehouseifwedidn’tmindourmanners.’

‘You didn’t foresee this, then?’ answeredGrimsby,with a guttural chuckle.‘Buthe’llchangeagainwhenhe’ssickofher.Ifwecomehereayearortwohence,weshallhaveallourownway,you’llsee.’

‘Idon’tknow,’repliedtheother:‘she’snotthestyleofwomanyousoontireof. Butbe thatas itmay, it’sdevilishprovokingnowthatwecan’tbe jolly,becausehechoosestobeonhisgoodbehaviour.’

‘It’sallthesecursedwomen!’mutteredGrimsby:‘they’retheverybaneoftheworld! They bring trouble and discomfort wherever they come, with theirfalse,fairfacesandtheirdeceitfultongues.’

At this juncture I issued frommy retreat, and smiling onMr.Grimsby as Ipassed,lefttheroomandwentoutinsearchofArthur.Havingseenhimbendhiscourse towards theshrubbery, I followedhimthither,andfoundhimjustentering the shadowy walk. I was so light of heart, so overflowing withaffection,thatIspranguponhimandclaspedhiminmyarms.Thisstartlingconduct had a singular effect upon him: first, he murmured, ‘Bless you,darling!’ and returnedmy close embracewith a fervour like old times, andthenhestarted,and,inatoneofabsoluteterror,exclaimed,‘Helen!whatthedevil is this?’ and I saw, by the faint light gleaming through theovershadowingtree,thathewaspositivelypalewiththeshock.

How strange that the instinctive impulse of affection should come first, andthentheshockofthesurprise!Itshows,atleast,thattheaffectionisgenuine:heisnotsickofmeyet.

‘Istartledyou,Arthur,’saidI,laughinginmyglee.‘Hownervousyouare!’

‘Whatthedeucedidyoudoitfor?’criedhe,quitetestily,extricatinghimselffrom my arms, and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. ‘Go back,Helen—gobackdirectly!You’llgetyourdeathofcold!’

‘Iwon’t,tillI’vetoldyouwhatIcamefor.Theyareblamingyou,Arthur,foryourtemperanceandsobriety,andI’mcometothankyouforit.Theysayitisall“thesecursedwomen,”andthatwearethebaneoftheworld;butdon’tletthemlaughorgrumbleyououtofyourgoodresolutions,oryouraffectionforme.’

He laughed. I squeezedhim inmyarmsagain, andcried in tearful earnest,‘Do,dopersevere!andI’llloveyoubetterthaneverIdidbefore!’

‘Well,well, Iwill!’ saidhe,hastilykissingme. ‘There,now,go. Youmadcreature,howcouldyoucomeoutinyourlighteveningdressthischillautumnnight?’

‘Itisagloriousnight,’saidI.

‘Itisanightthatwillgiveyouyourdeath,inanotherminute.Runaway,do!’

‘Doyouseemydeathamong those trees,Arthur?’said I, forhewasgazingintentlyattheshrubs,asifhesawitcoming,andIwasreluctanttoleavehim,inmynew-foundhappinessandrevivalofhopeandlove.Buthegrewangryatmydelay,soIkissedhimandranbacktothehouse.

Iwasinsuchagoodhumourthatnight:MilicenttoldmeIwasthelifeoftheparty, andwhispered shehadnever seenme sobrilliant. Certainly, I talkedenoughfortwenty,andsmileduponthemall.Grimsby,Hattersley,Hargrave,Lady Lowborough, all shared my sisterly kindness. Grimsby stared andwondered; Hattersley laughed and jested (in spite of the little wine he hadbeensufferedtoimbibe),butstillbehavedaswellasheknewhow.Hargraveand Annabella, from different motives and in different ways, emulatedme,anddoubtlessbothsurpassedme, theformer inhisdiscursiveversatilityandeloquence,thelatterinboldnessandanimationatleast.Milicent,delightedtosee her husband, her brother, and her over-estimated friend acquittingthemselves so well, was lively and gay too, in her quiet way. Even LordLowboroughcaughtthegeneralcontagion:hisdarkgreenisheyeswerelightedup beneath their moody brows; his sombre countenance was beautified bysmiles; all traces of gloom and proud or cold reserve had vanished for thetime; and he astonished us all, not only by his general cheerfulness andanimation,butby thepositive flashesof true forceandbrillianceheemittedfromtimetotime.Arthurdidnottalkmuch,buthelaughed,andlistenedtotherest,andwasinperfectgood-humour,thoughnotexcitedbywine.Sothat,altogether,wemadeaverymerry,innocent,andentertainingparty.

9th.—Yesterday,whenRachelcametodressmefordinner,Isawthatshehadbeen crying. Iwanted to know the cause of it, but she seemed reluctant totell.Wassheunwell?No.Hadsheheardbadnewsfromherfriends?No.Hadanyoftheservantsvexedher?

‘Oh,no,ma’am!’sheanswered;‘it’snotformyself.’

‘Whatthen,Rachel?Haveyoubeenreadingnovels?’

‘Bless you, no!’ said she,with a sorrowful shake of the head; and then shesighedandcontinued:‘Buttotellyouthetruth,ma’am,Idon’tlikemaster’swaysofgoingon.’

‘Whatdoyoumean,Rachel?He’sgoingonveryproperlyatpresent.’

‘Well,ma’am,ifyouthinkso,it’sright.’

And shewent on dressingmyhair, in a hurriedway, quite unlike her usualcalm, collected manner, murmuring, half to herself, she was sure it wasbeautiful hair: she ‘could like to see ’emmatch it.’ When itwasdone, she

fondlystrokedit,andgentlypattedmyhead.

‘Isthataffectionateebullitionintendedformyhair,ormyself,nurse?’saidI,laughinglyturningrounduponher;butatearwasevennowinhereye.

‘Whatdoyoumean,Rachel?’Iexclaimed.

‘Well,ma’am,Idon’tknow;butif—’

‘Ifwhat?’

‘Well, if I was you, I wouldn’t have that Lady Lowborough in the houseanotherminute—notanotherminuteIwouldn’t!

Iwasthunderstruck;butbeforeIcouldrecoverfromtheshocksufficientlytodemand an explanation, Milicent entered my room, as she frequently doeswhensheisdressedbeforeme;andshestayedwithmetillitwastimetogodown. Shemusthave foundmeaveryunsociablecompanion this time, forRachel’s lastwordsranginmyears. Butstill Ihoped,I trustedtheyhadnofoundationbutinsomeidlerumouroftheservantsfromwhattheyhadseeninLadyLowborough’smanner lastmonth;orperhapsfromsomething thathadpassed between their master and her during her former visit. At dinner InarrowlyobservedbothherandArthur,andsawnothingextraordinaryintheconductofeither,nothingcalculatedtoexcitesuspicion,exceptindistrustfulminds,whichminewasnot,andthereforeIwouldnotsuspect.

Almost immediately after dinner Annabella went out with her husband tosharehismoonlight ramble, for itwasa splendidevening like the last. Mr.Hargraveentered thedrawing-rooma littlebefore theothers,andchallengedmetoagameofchess.Hediditwithoutanyofthatsadbutproudhumilityheusuallyassumesinaddressingme,unlessheisexcitedwithwine.Ilookedathisfacetoseeifthatwasthecasenow.Hiseyemetminekeenly,butsteadily:there was something about him I did not understand, but he seemed soberenough.Notchoosingtoengagewithhim,IreferredhimtoMilicent.

‘Sheplaysbadly,’saidhe,‘Iwanttomatchmyskillwithyours.Comenow!youcan’tpretendyouarereluctanttolaydownyourwork.Iknowyounevertakeitupexcepttopassanidlehour,whenthereisnothingbetteryoucando.’

‘Butchess-playersaresounsociable,’Iobjected;‘theyarenocompanyforanybutthemselves.’

‘ThereisnooneherebutMilicent,andshe—’

‘Oh, I shallbedelighted towatchyou!’criedourmutual friend. ‘Twosuchplayers—itwillbequiteatreat!Iwonderwhichwillconquer.’

Iconsented.

‘Now,Mrs.Huntingdon,’saidHargrave,ashearrangedthemenontheboard,speaking distinctly, and with a peculiar emphasis, as if he had a doublemeaningtoallhiswords,‘youareagoodplayer,butIamabetter:weshallhavealonggame,andyouwillgivemesometrouble;butIcanbeaspatientasyou,andintheendIshallcertainlywin.’Hefixedhiseyesuponmewithaglance Ididnot like,keen, crafty,bold, andalmost impudent;—alreadyhalftriumphantinhisanticipatedsuccess.

‘Ihopenot,Mr.Hargrave!’returnedI,withvehemencethatmusthavestartledMilicentatleast;butheonlysmiledandmurmured,‘Timewillshow.’

Wesettowork:hesufficientlyinterestedinthegame,butcalmandfearlessinthe consciousness of superior skill: I, intensely eager to disappoint hisexpectations, for I considered this the type of a more serious contest, as Iimaginedhedid,andIfeltanalmostsuperstitiousdreadofbeingbeaten:atallevents, I could ill endure that present success should add one tittle to hisconsciouspower(hisinsolentself-confidenceIoughttosay),orencourageforamomenthisdreamoffutureconquest.Hisplaywascautiousanddeep,butIstruggledhardagainsthim.Forsometimethecombatwasdoubtful:atlength,tomyjoy,thevictoryseemedincliningtomyside:Ihadtakenseveralofhisbestpieces,andmanifestlybaffledhisprojects.Heputhishandtohisbrowandpaused, inevidentperplexity. I rejoicedinmyadvantage,butdarednotglory in it yet. At length, he lifted his head, and quietlymaking hismove,lookedatmeandsaid,calmly,‘Nowyouthinkyouwillwin,don’tyou?’

‘Ihopeso,’repliedI,takinghispawnthathehadpushedintothewayofmybishopwithsocarelessanair thatI thoughtitwasanoversight,butwasnotgenerousenough,underthecircumstances,todirecthisattentiontoit,andtooheedless,atthemoment,toforeseetheafter-consequencesofmymove.‘Itisthosebishopsthattroubleme,’saidhe;‘buttheboldknightcanoverleapthereverendgentlemen,’ takingmy lastbishopwithhisknight; ‘andnow, thosesacredpersonsonceremoved,Ishallcarryallbeforeme.’

‘Oh,Walter,howyoutalk!’criedMilicent;‘shehasfarmorepiecesthanyoustill.’

‘Iintendtogiveyousometroubleyet,’saidI;‘andperhaps,sir,youwillfindyourselfcheckmatedbeforeyouareaware.Looktoyourqueen.’

Thecombatdeepened. Thegamewasa longone, and Ididgivehimsometrouble:buthewasabetterplayerthanI.

‘Whatkeengamestersyouare!’saidMr.Hattersley,whohadnowentered,andbeenwatchingusforsometime.‘Why,Mrs.Huntingdon,yourhandtremblesasifyouhadstakedyouralluponit!and,Walter,youdog,youlookasdeepand cool as if youwere certain of success, and as keen and cruel as if you

woulddrainherheart’sblood!ButifIwereyou,Iwouldn’tbeather,forveryfear:she’llhateyouifyoudo—shewill,byheaven!Iseeitinhereye.’

‘Holdyourtongue,willyou?’saidI:histalkdistractedme,forIwasdriventoextremities.Afewmoremoves,andIwasinextricablyentangledinthesnareofmyantagonist.

‘Check,’criedhe:Isoughtinagonysomemeansofescape.‘Mate!’headded,quietly,butwithevidentdelight.Hehadsuspendedtheutteranceofthatlastfatalsyllablethebettertoenjoymydismay. Iwasfoolishlydisconcertedbytheevent.Hattersleylaughed;Milicentwastroubledtoseemesodisturbed.Hargraveplacedhis handonmine that restedon the table, and squeezing itwith a firmbutgentlepressure,murmured, ‘Beaten,beaten!’ andgazed intomy face with a look where exultation was blended with an expression ofardourandtendernessyetmoreinsulting.

‘No,never,Mr.Hargrave!’exclaimedI,quicklywithdrawingmyhand.

‘Do you deny?’ replied he, smilingly pointing to the board. ‘No, no,’ Ianswered,recollectinghowstrangemyconductmustappear:‘youhavebeatenmeinthatgame.’

‘Willyoutryanother,then?’

‘No.’

‘Youacknowledgemysuperiority?’

‘Yes,asachess-player.’

Irosetoresumemywork.

‘WhereisAnnabella?’saidHargrave,gravely,afterglancingroundtheroom.

‘Gone out with Lord Lowborough,’ answered I, for he looked at me for areply.

‘Andnotyetreturned!’hesaid,seriously.

‘Isupposenot.’

‘WhereisHuntingdon?’lookingroundagain.

‘GoneoutwithGrimsby,asyouknow,’saidHattersley,suppressinga laugh,whichbrokeforthasheconcludedthesentence.Whydidhelaugh?WhydidHargrave connect them thus together? Was it true, then? Andwas this thedreadfulsecrethehadwishedtorevealtome?Imustknow,andthatquickly.I instantly rose and left the room to go in search ofRachel and demand anexplanationof herwords; butMr.Hargrave followedme into the anteroom,and before I could open its outer door, gently laid his hand upon the lock.

‘MayItellyousomething,Mrs.Huntingdon?’saidhe,inasubduedtone,withserious,downcasteyes.

‘If it be anythingworthhearing,’ replied I, struggling tobe composed, for Itrembledineverylimb.

Hequietlypushedachair towardsme. Imerely leantmyhanduponit,andbidhimgoon.

‘Donotbealarmed,’saidhe:‘whatIwishtosayisnothinginitself;andIwillleaveyoutodrawyourowninferencesfromit.YousaythatAnnabellaisnotyetreturned?’

‘Yes,yes—goon!’saidI,impatiently;forIfearedmyforcedcalmnesswouldleavemebeforetheendofhisdisclosure,whateveritmightbe.

‘Andyouhear,’continuedhe,‘thatHuntingdonisgoneoutwithGrimsby?’

‘Well?’

‘Iheardthelattersaytoyourhusband—orthemanwhocallshimselfso—’

‘Goon,sir!’

Hebowedsubmissively,andcontinued:‘Iheardhimsay,—“Ishallmanageit,you’llsee!They’regonedownbythewater;Ishallmeetthemthere,andtellhimIwantabitoftalkwithhimaboutsomethingsthatweneedn’ttroubletheladywith;andshe’llsayshecanbewalkingbacktothehouse;andthenIshallapologise,youknow,andall that, and tipherawink to take thewayof theshrubbery. I’llkeephimtalking there,about thosematters Imentioned,andanythingelse I can thinkof, as longas I can, and thenbringhim round theotherway,stoppingtolookatthetrees,thefields,andanythingelseIcanfindtodiscourseof.”’Mr.Hargravepaused,andlookedatme.

Withoutawordofcommentorfurtherquestioning,Irose,anddartedfromtheroomandoutofthehouse.Thetormentofsuspensewasnottobeendured:Iwouldnotsuspectmyhusbandfalsely,onthisman’saccusation,andIwouldnot trust him unworthily—I must know the truth at once. I flew to theshrubbery. Scarcely had I reached it, when a sound of voices arrestedmybreathlessspeed.

‘Wehavelingeredtoolong;hewillbeback,’saidLadyLowborough’svoice.

‘Surelynot,dearest!’washisreply;‘butyoucanrunacrossthelawn,andgetinasquietlyasyoucan;I’llfollowinawhile.’

Myknees trembledunderme;mybrain swamround. Iwas ready to faint.Shemustnotseemethus. Ishrunkamongthebushes,andleantagainst thetrunkofatreetoletherpass.

‘Ah,Huntingdon!’saidshereproachfully,pausingwhereIhadstoodwithhimthenightbefore—‘itwashereyoukissedthatwoman!’shelookedbackintotheleafyshade.Advancingthence,heanswered,withacarelesslaugh,—

‘Well,dearest,Icouldn’thelpit. YouknowImustkeepstraightwithheraslongasIcan.Haven’tIseenyoukissyourdoltofahusbandscoresoftimes?—anddoIevercomplain?’

‘Buttellme,don’tyouloveherstill—alittle?’saidshe,placingherhandonhisarm,lookingearnestlyinhisface—forIcouldseethem,plainly,themoonshining full upon them frombetween the branches of the tree that shelteredme.

‘Notonebit,byallthat’ssacred!’hereplied,kissingherglowingcheek.

‘Goodheavens,Imustbegone!’criedshe,suddenlybreakingfromhim,andawaysheflew.

There he stood beforeme; but I had not strength to confront him now:mytonguecleavedtotheroofofmymouth;Iwaswell-nighsinkingtotheearth,andIalmostwonderedhedidnothearthebeatingofmyheartabovethelowsighing of the wind and the fitful rustle of the falling leaves. My sensesseemed to fail me, but still I saw his shadowy form pass before me, andthrough therushingsound inmyears Idistinctlyheardhimsay,ashestoodlookingupthelawn,—‘Theregoesthefool!Run,Annabella,run!There—inwithyou!Ah,—hedidn’tsee!That’sright,Grimsby,keephimback!’Andevenhislowlaughreachedmeashewalkedaway.

‘Godhelpmenow!’Imurmured,sinkingonmykneesamongthedampweedsandbrushwoodthatsurroundedme,andlookingupatthemoonlitsky,throughthescantfoliageabove.Itseemedalldimandquiveringnowtomydarkenedsight. Myburning,burstingheart strove topour forth itsagony toGod,butcouldnot frame itsanguish intoprayer;untilagustofwindsweptoverme,which,whileitscatteredthedeadleaves,likeblightedhopes,around,cooledmyforehead,andseemeda little to revivemysinkingframe. Then,while Iliftedupmysoulinspeechless,earnestsupplication,someheavenlyinfluenceseemedtostrengthenmewithin:Ibreathedmorefreely;myvisioncleared;Isawdistinctly thepuremoon shiningon, and the light clouds skimming theclear, dark sky; and then I saw the eternal stars twinklingdownuponme; IknewtheirGodwasmine,andHewasstrongtosaveandswifttohear.‘Iwillneverleavethee,norforsakethee,’seemedwhisperedfromabovetheirmyriadorbs.No,no;IfeltHewouldnotleavemecomfortless:inspiteofearthandhellIshouldhavestrengthforallmytrials,andwinagloriousrestatlast!

Refreshed, invigorated, if not composed, I rose and returned to the house.Muchofmynew-bornstrengthandcourageforsookme,Iconfess,asIentered

it,andshutoutthefreshwindandtheglorioussky:everythingIsawandheardseemedtosickenmyheart—thehall,thelamp,thestaircase,thedoorsofthedifferentapartments, thesocialsoundof talkandlaughterfromthedrawing-room.HowcouldIbearmyfuturelife!Inthishouse,amongthosepeople—oh,howcouldIenduretolive!Johnjustthenenteredthehall,andseeingme,toldmehehadbeensentinsearchofme,addingthathehadtakeninthetea,andmasterwishedtoknowifIwerecoming.

‘AskMrs.Hattersleytobesokindastomakethetea,John,’saidI.‘SayIamnotwellto-night,andwishtobeexcused.’

I retired into the large, empty dining-room, where all was silence anddarkness,butforthesoftsighingofthewindwithout,andthefaintgleamofmoonlightthatpiercedtheblindsandcurtains;andthereIwalkedrapidlyupanddown,thinkingofmybitterthoughtsalone.Howdifferentwasthisfromthe evening of yesterday! That, it seems,was the last expiring flash ofmylife’shappiness.Poor,blindedfoolthatIwastobesohappy!IcouldnowseethereasonofArthur’sstrangereceptionofme in theshrubbery; theburstofkindnesswas forhisparamour, the start ofhorror forhiswife. Now, too, Icouldbetterunderstand theconversationbetweenHattersleyandGrimsby; itwasdoubtlessofhisloveforhertheyspoke,notforme.

Iheardthedrawing-roomdooropen:alightquickstepcameoutoftheante-room,crossedthehall,andascendedthestairs.ItwasMilicent,poorMilicent,gone to seehowIwas—nooneelsecared forme;but shestillwaskind. Ishednotearsbefore,butnowtheycame,fastandfree.Thusshedidmegood,withoutapproachingme.Disappointedinhersearch,Iheardhercomedown,moreslowly thanshehadascended. Wouldshecome in there,and findmeout? No, she turned in the opposite direction and re-entered the drawing-room.Iwasglad,forIknewnothowtomeether,orwhattosay.Iwantednoconfidante inmydistress. Ideservednone,andIwantednone. Ihad takentheburdenuponmyself;letmebearitalone.

AstheusualhourofretirementapproachedIdriedmyeyes,andtriedtoclearmyvoiceandcalmmymind. ImustseeArthur to-night,andspeak tohim;butIwoulddoitcalmly:thereshouldbenoscene—nothingtocomplainortoboastoftohiscompanions—nothingtolaughatwithhislady-love.WhenthecompanywereretiringtotheirchambersIgentlyopenedthedoor,andjustashepassed,beckonedhimin.

‘What’stodowithyou,Helen?’saidhe.‘Whycouldn’tyoucometomaketeaforus?andwhatthedeuceareyouherefor,inthedark?Whatailsyou,youngwoman:youlooklikeaghost!’hecontinued,surveyingmebythelightofhiscandle.

‘Nomatter,’ I answered, ‘to you; you have no longer any regard for me itappears;andIhavenolongeranyforyou.’

‘Hal-lo!whatthedevilisthis?’hemuttered.‘Iwouldleaveyouto-morrow,’continued I, ‘and never again come under this roof, but for my child’—Ipausedamomenttosteady,myvoice.

‘Whatinthedevil’snameisthis,Helen?’criedhe.‘Whatcanyoubedrivingat?’

‘Youknowperfectlywell.Letuswastenotimeinuselessexplanation,buttellme,willyou—?’

He vehemently swore he knew nothing about it, and insisted upon hearingwhatpoisonousoldwomanhadbeenblackeninghisname,andwhatinfamousliesIhadbeenfoolenoughtobelieve.

‘Spareyourselfthetroubleofforswearingyourselfandrackingyourbrainstostifletruthwithfalsehood,’Icoldlyreplied.‘Ihavetrustedtothetestimonyofnothirdperson.Iwasintheshrubberythisevening,andIsawandheardformyself.’

Thiswasenough. Heutteredasuppressedexclamationofconsternationanddismay, and muttering, ‘I shall catch it now!’ set down his candle on thenearestchair,andrearinghisbackagainstthewall,stoodconfrontingmewithfoldedarms.

‘Well,whatthen?’saidhe,withthecalminsolenceofmingledshamelessnessanddesperation.

‘Onlythis,’returnedI;‘willyouletmetakeourchildandwhatremainsofmyfortune,andgo?’

‘Gowhere?’

‘Anywhere,wherehewill be safe fromyour contaminating influence, and Ishallbedeliveredfromyourpresence,andyoufrommine.’

‘No.’

‘Willyouletmehavethechildthen,withoutthemoney?’

‘No,noryourselfwithoutthechild. DoyouthinkI’mgoingtobemadethetalkofthecountryforyourfastidiouscaprices?’

‘Then I must stay here, to be hated and despised. But henceforth we arehusbandandwifeonlyinthename.’

‘Verygood.’

‘Iamyourchild’smother,andyourhousekeeper,nothingmore.Soyouneednottroubleyourselfanylongertofeigntheloveyoucannotfeel:Iwillexactnomoreheartlesscaressesfromyou,noroffernorendurethemeither.Iwillnotbemockedwiththeemptyhuskofconjugalendearments,whenyouhavegiventhesubstancetoanother!’

‘Verygood,ifyouplease.Weshallseewhowilltirefirst,mylady.’

‘IfItire,itwillbeoflivingintheworldwithyou:notoflivingwithoutyourmockeryoflove.Whenyoutireofyoursinfulways,andshowyourselftrulyrepentant,Iwillforgiveyou,and,perhaps,trytoloveyouagain,thoughthatwillbehardindeed.’

‘Humph!andmeantimeyouwillgoandtalkmeover toMrs.Hargrave,andwritelongletterstoauntMaxwelltocomplainofthewickedwretchyouhavemarried?’

‘Ishallcomplaintonoone.HithertoIhavestruggledhardtohideyourvicesfromeveryeye,andinvestyouwithvirtuesyouneverpossessed;butnowyoumustlooktoyourself.’

Ilefthimmutteringbadlanguagetohimself,andwentup-stairs.

‘Youarepoorly,ma’am,’saidRachel,surveyingmewithdeepanxiety.

‘Itistootrue,Rachel,’saidI,answeringhersadlooksratherthanherwords.

‘Iknewit,orIwouldn’thavementionedsuchathing.’

‘Butdon’tyoutroubleyourselfaboutit,’saidI,kissingherpale,time-wastedcheek.‘Icanbearitbetterthanyouimagine.’

‘Yes,youwerealwaysfor“bearing.”ButifIwasyouIwouldn’tbearit;I’dgivewaytoit,andcryrighthard!andI’dtalktoo,Ijustwould—I’dlethimknowwhatitwasto—’

‘Ihavetalked,’saidI;‘I’vesaidenough.’

‘ThenI’dcry,’persistedshe.‘Iwouldn’tlooksowhiteandsocalm,andburstmyheartwithkeepingitin.’

‘I have cried,’ said I, smiling, in spite ofmymisery; ‘and I am calm now,really:sodon’tdiscomposemeagain,nurse:letussaynomoreaboutit,anddon’tmention it to the servants. There,youmaygonow. Good-night; anddon’tdisturbyourrestforme:Ishallsleepwell—ifIcan.’

Notwithstandingthisresolution,Ifoundmybedsointolerablethat,beforetwoo’clock,Irose,andlightingmycandlebytherushlightthatwasstillburning,Igotmydeskandsatdowninmydressing-gowntorecount theeventsof the

pastevening.Itwasbettertobesooccupiedthantobelyinginbedtorturingmy brainwith recollections of the far past and anticipations of the dreadfulfuture. I have found relief in describing the very circumstances that havedestroyedmy peace, as well as the little trivial details attendant upon theirdiscovery. No sleep I could have got this nightwould have done somuchtowardscomposingmymind,andpreparingmetomeetthetrialsoftheday.Ifancyso,atleast;andyet,whenIceasewriting,Ifindmyheadachesterribly;andwhenIlookintotheglass,Iamstartledatmyhaggard,wornappearance.

Rachelhasbeentodressme,andsaysIhavehadasadnightofit,shecansee.MilicenthasjustlookedintoaskmehowIwas.ItoldherIwasbetter,buttoexcusemy appearance admitted I had had a restless night. Iwish this daywereover!Ishudderatthethoughtsofgoingdowntobreakfast.HowshallIencounterthemall?YetletmerememberitisnotIthatamguilty:Ihavenocause tofear;and if theyscornmeasavictimof theirguilt, Icanpity theirfollyanddespisetheirscorn.

CHAPTERXXXIV

Evening.—Breakfast passed well over: I was calm and cool throughout. Ianswered composedly all inquiries respectingmy health; andwhatever wasunusual in my look or manner was generally attributed to the triflingindispositionthathadoccasionedmyearlyretirementlastnight.ButhowamItogetover the tenor twelvedays thatmustyet elapsebefore theygo? Yetwhysolongfortheirdeparture?Whentheyaregone,howshallIgetthroughthemonthsoryearsofmyfuturelifeincompanywiththatman—mygreatestenemy? for none could injure me as he has done. Oh! when I think howfondly,howfoolishlyIhave lovedhim,howmadlyIhave trustedhim,howconstantly I have laboured, and studied, and prayed, and struggled for hisadvantage; andhowcruelly hehas trampledonmy love, betrayedmy trust,scorned my prayers and tears, and efforts for his preservation, crushed myhopes, destroyed my youth’s best feelings, and doomed me to a life ofhopelessmisery,asfarasmancandoit,itisnotenoughtosaythatInolongerlovemyhusband—IHATE him! Theword staresme in the face likeaguiltyconfession,butitistrue:Ihatehim—Ihatehim!ButGodhavemercyonhismiserable soul! and make him see and feel his guilt—I ask no othervengeance!IfhecouldbutfullyknowandtrulyfeelmywrongsIshouldbewellavenged,andIcouldfreelypardonall;butheissolost,sohardenedinhisheartlessdepravity,thatinthislifeIbelieveheneverwill.Butitisuselessdwellingon this theme: letme seekoncemore todissipate reflection in theminordetailsofpassingevents.

Mr.Hargravehasannoyedmealldaylongwithhisserious,sympathising,and(as he thinks) unobtrusive politeness. If it were more obtrusive it wouldtroublemeless,forthenIcouldsnubhim;but,asitis,hecontrivestoappearsoreallykindandthoughtfulthatIcannotdosowithoutrudenessandseemingingratitude.IsometimesthinkIoughttogivehimcreditforthegoodfeelinghesimulatessowell;andthenagain,IthinkitismydutytosuspecthimunderthepeculiarcircumstancesinwhichIamplaced.Hiskindnessmaynotallbefeigned;butstill, letnot thepurest impulseofgratitudetohiminducemetoforgetmyself:letmerememberthegameofchess,theexpressionsheusedonthe occasion, and those indescribable looks of his, that so justly rousedmyindignation, and I think I shall be safe enough. I have donewell to recordthemsominutely.

I think he wishes to find an opportunity of speaking to me alone: he hasseemedtobeonthewatchallday;butIhavetakencaretodisappointhim—not that I fear anythinghe could say, but I have trouble enoughwithout theadditionofhisinsultingconsolations,condolences,orwhateverelsehemightattempt; and, for Milicent’s sake, I do not wish to quarrel with him. Heexcused himself from going out to shoot with the other gentlemen in themorning,underthepretextofhavingletterstowrite;andinsteadofretiringforthatpurposeintothelibrary,hesentforhisdeskintothemorning-room,whereI was seated with Milicent and Lady Lowborough. They had betakenthemselves to their work; I, less to divert my mind than to deprecateconversation,hadprovidedmyselfwithabook.MilicentsawthatIwishedtobequiet,andaccordinglyletmealone.Annabella,doubtless,sawittoo:butthatwasno reasonwhy she should restrainher tongue,or curbher cheerfulspirits:sheaccordinglychattedaway,addressingherselfalmostexclusivelytome,andwiththeutmostassuranceandfamiliarity,growingthemoreanimatedand friendly the colder and briefermy answers became. Mr.Hargrave sawthat I could ill endure it, and, looking up from his desk, he answered herquestionsandobservationsforme,asfarashecould,andattemptedtotransferher social attentions fromme to himself; but itwould not do. Perhaps shethoughtIhadaheadache,andcouldnotbeartotalk;atanyrate,shesawthather loquacious vivacity annoyed me, as I could tell by the maliciouspertinacitywithwhichshepersisted. But Ichecked iteffectuallybyputtingintoherhandthebookIhadbeentryingtoread,onthefly-leafofwhichIhadhastilyscribbled,—

‘I am toowell acquaintedwith your character and conduct to feel any realfriendshipforyou,andasIamwithoutyourtalentfordissimulation,Icannotassumetheappearanceofit. Imust,therefore,begthathereafterallfamiliarintercourse may cease between us; and if I still continue to treat you withcivility, as if you were a woman worthy of consideration and respect,

understandthatitisoutofregardforyourcousinMilicent’sfeelings,notforyours.’

Uponperusingthissheturnedscarlet,andbitherlip.Covertlytearingawaytheleaf,shecrumpleditupandputitinthefire,andthenemployedherselfinturning over the pages of the book, and, really or apparently, perusing itscontents.InalittlewhileMilicentannounceditherintentiontorepairtothenursery,andaskedifIwouldaccompanyher.

‘Annabellawillexcuseus,’saidshe;‘she’sbusyreading.’

‘No,Iwon’t,’criedAnnabella,suddenlylookingup,andthrowingherbookonthe table; ‘I want to speak to Helen aminute. Youmay go,Milicent, andshe’ll follow in a while.’ (Milicent went.) ‘Will you oblige me, Helen?’continuedshe.

Her impudence astounded me; but I complied, and followed her into thelibrary.Sheclosedthedoor,andwalkeduptothefire.

‘Whotoldyouthis?’saidshe.

‘Noone:Iamnotincapableofseeingformyself.’

‘Ah,youaresuspicious!’criedshe,smiling,withagleamofhope. Hithertotherehadbeenakindofdesperationinherhardihood;nowshewasevidentlyrelieved.

‘If Iweresuspicious,’ I replied, ‘I shouldhavediscoveredyour infamy longbefore.No,LadyLowborough,Idonotfoundmychargeuponsuspicion.’

‘Onwhatdoyoufoundit,then?’saidshe,throwingherselfintoanarm-chair,and stretching out her feet to the fender, with an obvious effort to appearcomposed.

‘I enjoy amoonlight ramble aswell as you,’ I answered, steadily fixingmyeyesuponher;‘andtheshrubberyhappenstobeoneofmyfavouriteresorts.’

She coloured again excessively, and remained silent, pressing her fingeragainstherteeth,andgazingintothefire.Iwatchedherafewmomentswithafeeling ofmalevolent gratification; then,moving towards the door, I calmlyaskedifshehadanythingmoretosay.

‘Yes,yes!’criedsheeagerly,startingupfromherrecliningposture.‘IwanttoknowifyouwilltellLordLowborough?’

‘SupposeIdo?’

‘Well, if you are disposed to publish the matter, I cannot dissuade you, ofcourse—but therewill be terriblework if you do—and if you don’t, I shall

thinkyouthemostgenerousofmortalbeings—andifthereisanythingintheworldIcandoforyou—anythingshortof—‘shehesitated.

‘Shortofrenouncingyourguiltyconnectionwithmyhusband,Isupposeyoumean?’saidI.

Shepaused, inevidentdisconcertionandperplexity,mingledwithanger shedarednotshow.

‘I cannot renouncewhat is dearer than life,’ shemuttered, in a low, hurriedtone.Then,suddenlyraisingherheadandfixinghergleamingeyesuponme,shecontinuedearnestly: ‘But,Helen—orMrs.Huntingdon,orwhateveryouwouldhavemecall you—will you tell him? If you aregenerous, here is afitting opportunity for the exercise of your magnanimity: if you are proud,hereamI—yourrival—readytoacknowledgemyselfyourdebtorforanactofthemostnobleforbearance.’

‘Ishallnottellhim.’

‘Youwillnot!’criedshe,delightedly.‘Acceptmysincerethanks,then!’

Shesprangup,andofferedmeherhand.Idrewback.

‘Givemenothanks;itisnotforyoursakethatIrefrain.Neitherisitanactofanyforbearance:Ihavenowishtopublishyourshame.Ishouldbesorrytodistressyourhusbandwiththeknowledgeofit.’

‘AndMilicent?willyoutellher?’

‘No:onthecontrary,Ishalldomyutmosttoconcealitfromher.Iwouldnotformuchthatsheshouldknowtheinfamyanddisgraceofherrelation!’

‘Youusehardwords,Mrs.Huntingdon,butIcanpardonyou.’

‘Andnow,LadyLowborough,’continuedI,‘letmecounselyoutoleavethishouseassoonaspossible. Youmustbeawarethatyourcontinuancehereisexcessively disagreeable to me—not for Mr. Huntingdon’s sake,’ said I,observing the dawn of amalicious smile of triumph on her face—‘you arewelcometohim,ifyoulikehim,asfarasIamconcerned—butbecauseitispainful to be always disguising my true sentiments respecting you, andstraining to keep up an appearance of civility and respect towards one forwhomIhavenotthemostdistantshadowofesteem;andbecause,ifyoustay,your conduct cannot possibly remain concealedmuch longer from the onlytwopersonsinthehousewhodonotknowitalready.And,foryourhusband’ssake,Annabella,andevenforyourown,Iwish—Iearnestlyadviseandentreatyou to break off this unlawful connection at once, and return to your dutywhileyoumay,beforethedreadfulconsequences—’

‘Yes,yes,ofcourse,’saidshe, interruptingmewithagestureofimpatience.‘But I cannotgo,Helen,before the timeappointed forourdeparture. Whatpossible pretext could I frame for such a thing? Whether I proposed goingbackalone—whichLowboroughwouldnothearof—or takinghimwithme,theverycircumstance itselfwouldbecertain toexcite suspicion—andwhenourvisitissonearlyatanendtoo—littlemorethanaweek—surelyyoucanendure my presence so long! I will not annoy you with any more of myfriendlyimpertinences.’

‘Well,Ihavenothingmoretosaytoyou.’

‘Haveyoumentionedthisaffair toHuntingdon?’askedshe,asIwasleavingtheroom.

‘Howdareyoumentionhisnametome!’wastheonlyanswerIgave.

Nowordshavepassedbetweenussince,butsuchasoutwarddecencyorpurenecessitydemanded.

CHAPTERXXXV

Nineteenth.—InproportionasLadyLowboroughfindsshehasnothingtofearfromme, and as the time of departure draws nigh, themore audacious andinsolent she becomes. She does not scruple to speak to my husband withaffectionate familiarity in my presence, when no one else is by, and isparticularly fond of displaying her interest in his health and welfare, or inanything that concerns him, as if for the purpose of contrasting her kindsolicitudewithmycoldindifference.Andherewardsherbysuchsmilesandglances, such whispered words, or boldly-spoken insinuations, indicative ofhis sense of her goodness andmy neglect, asmake the blood rush intomyface,inspiteofmyself—forIwouldbeutterlyregardlessofitall—deafandblind toeverything thatpassesbetween them, since themore I showmyselfsensible of their wickedness the more she triumphs in her victory, and themore he flatters himself that I love him devotedly still, in spite of mypretendedindifference.OnsuchoccasionsIhavesometimesbeenstartledbya subtle, fiendish suggestion inciting me to show him the contrary by aseemingencouragementofHargrave’sadvances;butsuchideasarebanishedinamomentwithhorrorandself-abasement;andthenIhatehimtenfoldmorethan ever for havingbroughtme to this!—Godpardonme for it and allmysinful thoughts! Instead of being humbled and purified bymy afflictions, Ifeelthattheyareturningmynatureintogall.Thismustbemyfaultasmuchastheirsthatwrongme.NotrueChristiancouldcherishsuchbitterfeelingsas

I do against him and her, especially the latter: him, I still feel that I couldpardon—freely,gladly—ontheslightesttokenofrepentance;butshe—wordscannotuttermyabhorrence.Reasonforbids,butpassionurgesstrongly;andImustprayandstrugglelongereIsubdueit.

It is well that she is leaving to-morrow, for I could not well endure herpresenceforanotherday. Thismorningsheroseearlier thanusual. I foundherintheroomalone,whenIwentdowntobreakfast.

‘Oh,Helen!isityou?’saidshe,turningasIentered.

I gave an involuntary start back on seeing her, atwhich she uttered a shortlaugh,observing,‘Ithinkwearebothdisappointed.’

Icameforwardandbusiedmyselfwiththebreakfastthings.

‘This is the last day I shall burden your hospitality,’ said she, as she seatedherself at the table. ‘Ah, here comes one that will not rejoice at it!’ shemurmured,halftoherself,asArthurenteredtheroom.

Heshookhandswithherandwishedhergood-morning:then,lookinglovinglyinherface,andstillretainingherhandinhis,murmuredpathetically,‘Thelast—lastday!’

‘Yes,’saidshewithsomeasperity;‘andIroseearlytomakethebestofit—Ihavebeenherealonethishalf-hour,andyou—youlazycreature—’

‘Well,IthoughtIwasearlytoo,’saidhe;‘but,’droppinghisvoicealmosttoawhisper,‘youseewearenotalone.’

‘Weneverare,’returnedshe.Buttheywerealmostasgoodasalone,forIwasnowstandingatthewindow,watchingtheclouds,andstrugglingtosuppressmywrath.

Somemorewordspassedbetween them,which,happily, Ididnotoverhear;butAnnabellahadtheaudacitytocomeandplaceherselfbesideme,andeventoputherhanduponmyshoulderandsaysoftly,‘Youneednotgrudgehimtome,Helen,forIlovehimmorethaneveryoucoulddo.’

Thisputmebesidemyself.Itookherhandandviolentlydasheditfromme,with an expression of abhorrence and indignation that could not besuppressed.Startled,almostappalled,bythissuddenoutbreak,sherecoiledinsilence.Iwouldhavegivenwaytomyfuryandsaidmore,butArthur’slowlaugh recalled me to myself. I checked the half-uttered invective, andscornfullyturnedaway,regrettingthatIhadgivenhimsomuchamusement.HewasstilllaughingwhenMr.Hargravemadehisappearance.Howmuchofthe scene he had witnessed I do not know, for the door was ajar when heentered.Hegreetedhishostandhiscousinbothcoldly,andmewithaglance

intended toexpress thedeepest sympathymingledwithhighadmirationandesteem.

‘Howmuchallegiancedoyouowetothatman?’heaskedbelowhisbreath,ashestoodbesidemeatthewindow,affectingtobemakingobservationsontheweather.

‘None,’ I answered. And immediately returning to the table, I employedmyself inmaking the tea. He followed, andwould have entered into somekind of conversation with me, but the other guests were now beginning toassemble,andItooknomorenoticeofhim,excepttogivehimhiscoffee.

Afterbreakfast,determinedtopassaslittleofthedayaspossibleincompanywithLadyLowborough,Iquietlystoleawayfromthecompanyandretiredtothelibrary.Mr.Hargravefollowedmethither,underpretenceofcomingforabook;andfirst,turningtotheshelves,heselectedavolume,andthenquietly,butbynomeanstimidly,approachingme,hestoodbesideme,restinghishandonthebackofmychair,andsaidsoftly,‘Andsoyouconsideryourselffreeatlast?’

‘Yes,’ said I,withoutmoving,or raisingmyeyes frommybook, ‘free todoanythingbutoffendGodandmyconscience.’

Therewasamomentarypause.

‘Very right,’ said he, ‘provided your conscience be not toomorbidly tender,and your ideas of God not too erroneously severe; but can you suppose itwouldoffendthatbenevolentBeingtomakethehappinessofonewhowoulddieforyours?—toraiseadevotedheartfrompurgatorialtormentstoastateofheavenlybliss,whenyoucoulddoitwithouttheslightestinjurytoyourselforanyother?’

Thiswasspoken ina low,earnest,melting tone,ashebentoverme. Inowraisedmy head; and steadily confronting his gaze, I answered calmly, ‘Mr.Hargrave,doyoumeantoinsultme?’

Hewasnotpreparedforthis.Hepausedamomenttorecovertheshock;then,drawinghimselfupandremovinghishandfrommychair,heanswered,withproudsadness,—‘Thatwasnotmyintention.’

Ijustglancedtowardsthedoor,withaslightmovementofthehead,andthenreturnedtomybook.Heimmediatelywithdrew.ThiswasbetterthanifIhadanswered with more words, and in the passionate spirit to which my firstimpulsewouldhaveprompted.Whatagoodthingitistobeabletocommandone’s temper! Imust labour to cultivate this inestimable quality:God onlyknowshowoftenIshallneeditinthisrough,darkroadthatliesbeforeme.

InthecourseofthemorningIdroveovertotheGrovewiththetwoladies,togiveMilicent an opportunity for bidding farewell to hermother and sister.They persuaded her to stay with them the rest of the day, Mrs. Hargravepromisingtobringherbackintheeveningandremaintillthepartybrokeupon themorrow. Consequently,LadyLowborough and I had thepleasure ofreturningtête-à-têteinthecarriagetogether.Forthefirstmileortwowekeptsilence,Ilookingoutofmywindow,andsheleaningbackinhercorner.ButIwasnotgoingtorestrictmyselftoanyparticularpositionforher;whenIwastiredofleaningforward,withthecold,rawwindinmyface,andsurveyingtherussethedgesandthedamp,tangledgrassoftheirbanks,Igaveitupandleantbacktoo.Withherusualimpudence,mycompanionthenmadesomeattemptstogetupaconversation;butthemonosyllables‘yes,’or‘no’or‘humph,’weretheutmostherseveralremarkscouldelicitfromme.Atlast,onheraskingmyopinionuponsomeimmaterialpointofdiscussion,Ianswered,—‘Whydoyouwishtotalktome,LadyLowborough?YoumustknowwhatIthinkofyou.’

‘Well,ifyouwillbesobitteragainstme,’repliedshe,‘Ican’thelpit;butI’mnotgoingtosulkforanybody.’Ourshortdrivewasnowatanend.Assoonas thecarriagedoorwasopened,shesprangout,andwentdownthepark tomeetthegentlemen,whowerejustreturningfromthewoods.OfcourseIdidnotfollow.

But I had not done with her impudence yet: after dinner, I retired to thedrawing-room,asusual,andsheaccompaniedme,butIhadthetwochildrenwithme,andIgavethemmywholeattention,anddeterminedtokeepthemtillthe gentlemen came, or tillMilicent arrivedwith hermother. LittleHelen,however, was soon tired of playing, and insisted upon going to sleep; andwhile I sat on the sofawith her onmy knee, andArthur seated besideme,gentlyplayingwithhersoft,flaxenhair,LadyLowboroughcomposedlycameandplacedherselfontheotherside.

‘To-morrow, Mrs. Huntingdon,’ said she, ‘you will be delivered from mypresence,which,nodoubt,youwillbeverygladof—itisnaturalyoushould;butdoyouknowIhaverenderedyouagreatservice?ShallItellyouwhatitis?’

‘I shall be glad to hear of any service you have rendered me,’ said I,determined to be calm, for I knew by the tone of her voice she wanted toprovokeme.

‘Well,’ resumed she, ‘have you not observed the salutary change in Mr.Huntingdon?Don’tyouseewhatasober,temperatemanheisbecome?Yousawwithregretthesadhabitshewascontracting,Iknow:andIknowyoudidyour utmost to deliver him from them, butwithout success, until I came toyour assistance. I told him in fewwords that I could not bear to see him

degradehimselfso,andthatIshouldceaseto—nomatterwhatItoldhim,butyouseethereformationIhavewrought;andyououghttothankmeforit.’

Iroseandrangforthenurse.

‘But Idesireno thanks,’ shecontinued; ‘all the return Iask is, thatyouwilltakecareofhimwhenIamgone,andnot,byharshnessandneglect,drivehimbacktohisoldcourses.’

Iwasalmostsickwithpassion,butRachelwasnowatthedoor.Ipointedtothechildren,forIcouldnottrustmyselftospeak:shetookthemaway,andIfollowed.

‘Willyou,Helen?’continuedthespeaker.

Igaveheralookthatblightedthemalicioussmileonherface,orcheckedit,atleastforamoment,anddeparted.Intheante-roomImetMr.Hargrave.HesawIwas innohumour tobe spoken to,andsufferedme topasswithoutaword;butwhen,aftera fewminutes’seclusion in the library, Ihadregainedmycomposure,andwasreturningtojoinMrs.HargraveandMilicent,whomIhad just heard comedownstairs and go into the drawing-room, I foundhimtherestill lingeringin thedimly-lightedapartment,andevidentlywaitingforme.

‘Mrs.Huntingdon,’saidheasIpassed,‘willyouallowmeoneword?’

‘Whatisitthen?bequick,ifyouplease.’

‘Ioffendedyouthismorning;andIcannotliveunderyourdispleasure.’

‘Thengo,andsinnomore,’repliedI,turningaway.

‘No,no!’saidhe,hastily,settinghimselfbeforeme.‘Pardonme,butImusthave your forgiveness. I leave you to-morrow, and I may not have anopportunityofspeakingtoyouagain.Iwaswrongtoforgetmyselfandyou,as Idid;but letme imploreyou to forget and forgivemy rashpresumption,and thinkofmeas if thosewordshadneverbeenspoken; for,believeme, Iregret them deeply, and the loss of your esteem is too severe a penalty: Icannotbearit.’

‘Forgetfulness is not to be purchasedwith awish; and I cannot bestowmyesteemonallwhodesireit,unlesstheydeserveittoo.’

‘I shall think my life well spent in labouring to deserve it, if you will butpardonthisoffence—willyou?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes!butthatiscoldlyspoken.GivemeyourhandandI’llbelieveyou.You

won’t?Then,Mrs.Huntingdon,youdonotforgiveme!’

‘Yes;hereitis,andmyforgivenesswithit:only,sinnomore.’

Hepressedmycoldhandwithsentimentalfervour,butsaidnothing,andstoodaside to let me pass into the room, where all the company were nowassembled.Mr.Grimsbywasseatednearthedoor:onseeingmeenter,almostimmediately followed by Hargrave, he leered at me with a glance ofintolerablesignificance,asIpassed.Ilookedhimintheface,tillhesullenlyturnedaway,ifnotashamed,atleastconfoundedforthemoment.MeantimeHattersleyhadseizedHargravebythearm,andwaswhisperingsomethinginhisear—somecoarsejoke,nodoubt,forthelatterneitherlaughednorspokein answer, but, turning from him with a slight curl of the lip, disengagedhimselfandwenttohismother,whowastellingLordLowboroughhowmanyreasonsshehadtobeproudofherson.

Thankheaven,theyareallgoingto-morrow.

CHAPTERXXXVI

December20th,1824.—Thisisthethirdanniversaryofourfelicitousunion.Itisnowtwomonthssinceourguestsleftustotheenjoymentofeachother’ssociety;andIhavehadnineweeks’experienceofthisnewphaseofconjugallife—two persons living together, as master andmistress of the house, andfather and mother of a winsome, merry little child, with the mutualunderstandingthatthereisnolove,friendship,orsympathybetweenthem.Asfar as inme lies, I endeavour to live peaceably with him: I treat himwithunimpeachable civility, give up my convenience to his, wherever it mayreasonably be done, and consult him in a business-like way on householdaffairs,deferringtohispleasureandjudgment,evenwhenIknowthelattertobeinferiortomyown.

As for him, for the first week or two, he was peevish and low, fretting, Isuppose,overhisdearAnnabella’sdeparture,andparticularlyill-temperedtome:everythingIdidwaswrong;Iwascold-hearted,hard,insensate;mysour,pale facewasperfectly repulsive;myvoicemadehimshudder;heknewnothowhecould live through thewinterwithme; I shouldkillhimby inches.AgainIproposedaseparation,butitwouldnotdo:hewasnotgoingtobethetalkofalltheoldgossipsintheneighbourhood:hewouldnothaveitsaidthathewassuchabrutehiswifecouldnotlivewithhim.No;hemustcontrivetobearwithme.

‘Imustcontrivetobearwithyou,youmean,’saidI;‘forsolongasIdischarge

my functions of steward and house-keeper, so conscientiously and well,without pay andwithout thanks, you cannot afford to partwithme. I shalltherefore remit these duties when my bondage becomes intolerable.’ Thisthreat,Ithought,wouldservetokeephimincheck,ifanythingwould.

Ibelievehewasmuchdisappointed that I didnot feelhisoffensive sayingsmore acutely, for when he had said anything particularlywell calculated tohurtmyfeelings,hewouldstaremesearchinglyintheface,andthengrumbleagainstmy‘marbleheart’ormy‘brutal insensibility.’ If Ihadbitterlyweptanddeploredhislostaffection,hewould,perhaps,havecondescendedtopityme, and takenme into favour for a while, just to comfort his solitude andconsolehimfortheabsenceofhisbelovedAnnabella,untilhecouldmeetheragain, or somemore fitting substitute. Thank heaven, I amnot soweak asthat!Iwasinfatuatedoncewithafoolish,besottedaffection,thatclungtohimin spite of his unworthiness, but it is fairly gone now—wholly crushed andwitheredaway;andhehasnonebuthimselfandhisvicestothankforit.

At first (in compliance with his sweet lady’s injunctions, I suppose), heabstainedwonderfullywell from seeking to solace his cares inwine; but atlength he began to relax his virtuous efforts, and now and then exceeded alittle, and still continues to do so; nay, sometimes, not a little. When he isunder the exciting influence of these excesses, he sometimes fires up andattemptstoplaythebrute;andthenItakelittlepainstosuppressmyscornanddisgust.Whenheisunderthedepressinginfluenceoftheafter-consequences,hebemoanshissufferingsandhiserrors,andchargesthembothuponme;heknowssuchindulgenceinjureshishealth,anddoeshimmoreharmthangood;buthesaysIdrivehimtoitbymyunnatural,unwomanlyconduct;itwillbetheruinofhimintheend,butitisallmyfault;andthenIamrousedtodefendmyself, sometimes with bitter recrimination. This is a kind of injustice Icannotpatientlyendure.HaveInotlabouredlongandhardtosavehimfromthisveryvice?WouldInotlabourstilltodeliverhimfromitifIcould?butcould Idosoby fawninguponhimandcaressinghimwhen Iknow thathescornsme?IsitmyfaultthatIhavelostmyinfluencewithhim,orthathehasforfeitedeveryclaimtomyregard? AndshouldIseekareconciliationwithhim, when I feel that I abhor him, and that he despises me? and while hecontinuesstilltocorrespondwithLadyLowborough,asIknowhedoes?No,never,never,never!hemaydrinkhimselfdead,butitisNOTmyfault!

Yet I do my part to save him still: I give him to understand that drinkingmakeshiseyesdull,andhisfaceredandbloated;andthat it tendstorenderhimimbecileinbodyandmind;andifAnnabellaweretoseehimasoftenasIdo,shewouldspeedilybedisenchanted;andthatshecertainlywillwithdrawher favour from him, if he continues such courses. Such a mode ofadmonitionwinsonlycoarseabuseforme—and,indeed,IalmostfeelasifI

deservedit,forIhatetousesucharguments;buttheysinkintohisstupefiedheart,andmakehimpause,andponder,andabstain,morethananythingelseIcouldsay.

AtpresentIamenjoyingatemporaryrelieffromhispresence:heisgonewithHargrave to join a distant hunt, and will probably not be back before to-morrowevening.HowdifferentlyIusedtofeelhisabsence!

Mr.Hargrave isstillat theGrove. HeandArthurfrequentlymeet topursuetheir rural sports together: he often calls upon us here, and Arthur notunfrequentlyridesovertohim.Idonotthinkeitherofthesesoi-disantfriendsisoverflowingwith lovefor theother;butsuch intercourseserves toget thetimeon,andIamverywillingitshouldcontinue,asitsavesmesomehoursofdiscomfort inArthur’s society, and gives him some better employment thanthesottish indulgenceofhissensualappetites. TheonlyobjectionIhave toMr.Hargrave’sbeingintheneighbourhood,isthatthefearofmeetinghimattheGrovepreventsmefromseeinghissistersooftenas Iotherwiseshould;for,oflate,hehasconductedhimselftowardsmewithsuchunerringpropriety,that I have almost forgottenhis former conduct. I supposehe is striving to‘winmyesteem.’ Ifhecontinue toact in thisway,hemaywinit;butwhatthen? The moment he attempts to demand anything more, he will lose itagain.

February10th.—Itisahard,embitteringthingtohaveone’skindfeelingsandgoodintentionscastbackinone’steeth.Iwasbeginningtorelenttowardsmywretchedpartner;topityhisforlorn,comfortlesscondition,unalleviatedasitis by the consolations of intellectual resources and the answer of a goodconsciencetowardsGod;andtothinkIoughttosacrificemypride,andrenewmyeffortsonceagain tomakehishomeagreeableand leadhimback to thepathofvirtue;notbyfalseprofessionsoflove,andnotbypretendedremorse,butbymitigatingmyhabitualcoldnessofmanner,andcommutingmyfrigidcivility into kindnesswherever an opportunity occurred; and not onlywas Ibeginning to thinkso,but Ihadalreadybeguntoactuponthe thought—andwhat was the result? No answering spark of kindness, no awakeningpenitence,butanunappeasableill-humour,andaspiritoftyrannousexactionthat increased with indulgence, and a lurking gleam of self-complacenttriumphateverydetectionofrelentingsoftnessinmymanner,thatcongealedme tomarbleagainasoftenas it recurred; and thismorninghe finished thebusiness:—Ithinkthepetrifactionissocompletelyeffectedatlastthatnothingcan melt me again. Among his letters was one which he perused withsymptomsof unusual gratification, and then threw it across the table tome,withtheadmonition,—

‘There!readthat,andtakealessonbyit!’

Itwas in thefree,dashinghandofLadyLowborough. Iglancedat thefirstpage; it seemed full of extravagant protestations of affection; impetuouslongingsforaspeedyreunion—andimpiousdefianceofGod’smandates,andrailingsagainstHisprovidenceforhavingcasttheirlotasunder,anddoomedthembothtothehatefulbondageofalliancewiththosetheycouldnotlove.Hegaveaslighttitteronseeingmechangecolour.Ifoldeduptheletter,rose,andreturnedittohim,withnoremark,but—

‘Thankyou,Iwilltakealessonbyit!’

MylittleArthurwasstandingbetweenhisknees,delightedlyplayingwiththebright, ruby ring on his finger. Urged by a sudden, imperative impulse todelivermysonfromthatcontaminatinginfluence,Icaughthimupinmyarmsandcarriedhimwithmeoutoftheroom.Notlikingthisabruptremoval,thechildbegantopoutandcry.Thiswasanewstabtomyalreadytorturedheart.Iwould not let him go; but, taking himwithme into the library, I shut thedoor,and,kneelingonthefloorbesidehim,Iembracedhim,kissedhim,weptoverwithhimwithpassionatefondness. Ratherfrightenedthanconsoledbythis,heturnedstrugglingfromme,andcriedoutaloudforhispapa.Ireleasedhim from my arms, and never were more bitter tears than those that nowconcealedhim frommyblinded,burningeyes. Hearinghiscries, the fathercametotheroom.Iinstantlyturnedaway,lestheshouldseeandmisconstruemyemotion.Hesworeatme,andtookthenowpacifiedchildaway.

Itishardthatmylittledarlingshouldlovehimmorethanme;andthat,whenthewell-beingandcultureofmysonisallIhavetolivefor,Ishouldseemyinfluencedestroyedbyonewhoseselfishaffectionismoreinjuriousthanthecoldestindifferenceortheharshesttyrannycouldbe.IfI,forhisgood,denyhimsometriflingindulgence,hegoes tohisfather,andthe latter, inspiteofhisselfishindolence,willevengivehimselfsometroubletomeetthechild’sdesires: if Iattempt tocurbhiswill,or lookgravelyonhimforsomeactofchildishdisobedience,heknowshisotherparentwillsmileandtakehispartagainstme. Thus, not only have I the father’s spirit in the son to contendagainst, thegermsofhisevil tendencies tosearchoutanderadicate,andhiscorrupting intercourseandexample inafter-life tocounteract,butalreadyhecounteracts my arduous labour for the child’s advantage, destroys myinfluenceoverhistendermind,androbsmeofhisverylove;Ihadnoearthlyhopebutthis,andheseemstotakeadiabolicaldelightintearingitaway.

Butitiswrongtodespair;Iwillrememberthecounseloftheinspiredwritertohim‘thatfeareththeLordandobeyeththevoiceofhisservant,thatsittethindarknessandhathnolight;lethimtrustinthenameoftheLord,andstayuponhisGod!’

CHAPTERXXXVII

December20th,1825.—Anotheryearispast;andIamwearyofthislife.AndyetIcannotwishtoleaveit:whateverafflictionsassailmehere,Icannotwishto go and leavemy darling in this dark andwickedworld alone,without afriend to guide him through its weary mazes, to warn him of its thousandsnares,andguardhimfromtheperilsthatbesethimoneveryhand.Iamnotwellfittedtobehisonlycompanion,Iknow;but thereisnoother tosupplymy place. I am too grave tominister to his amusements and enter into hisinfantile sports as a nurse or amother ought to do, and often his bursts ofgleefulmerriment troubleandalarmme;Isee in themhisfather’sspiritandtemperament, and I tremble for the consequences; and too often damp theinnocentmirthIoughttoshare.Thatfather,onthecontrary,hasnoweightofsadness on his mind; is troubled with no fears, no scruples concerning hisson’sfuturewelfare;andateveningsespecially,thetimeswhenthechildseeshim the most and the oftenest, he is always particularly jocund and open-hearted:readytolaughandtojestwithanythingoranybodybutme,andIamparticularly silent and sad: therefore, of course, the child dotes upon hisseemingly joyous amusing, ever-indulgent papa, andwill at any timegladlyexchangemycompanyforhis.Thisdisturbsmegreatly;notsomuchforthesakeofmyson’saffection(thoughIdoprizethathighly,andthoughIfeelitismyright,andknowIhavedonemuchtoearnit)asforthatinfluenceoverhimwhich,forhisownadvantage,Iwouldstrivetopurchaseandretain,andwhichforveryspitehisfatherdelightstorobmeof,and,frommotivesofmereidleegotism,ispleasedtowintohimself;makingnouseofitbuttotormentmeandruinthechild.Myonlyconsolationis,thathespendscomparativelylittleofhistimeathome,and,duringthemonthshepassesinLondonorelsewhere,IhaveachanceofrecoveringthegroundIhadlost,andovercomingwithgoodtheevilhehaswroughtbyhiswilfulmismanagement.Butthenitisabittertrialtobeholdhim,onhisreturn,doinghisutmosttosubvertmylaboursandtransform my innocent, affectionate, tractable darling into a selfish,disobedient,andmischievousboy;therebypreparingthesoilforthoseviceshehassosuccessfullycultivatedinhisownpervertednature.

Happily, there were none of Arthur’s ‘friends’ invited to Grassdale lastautumn:he tookhimselfoff tovisit someof theminstead. Iwishhewouldalwaysdoso,andIwishhisfriendswerenumerousandlovingenoughtokeephim amongst them all the year round. Mr. Hargrave, considerably to myannoyance,didnotgowithhim;butIthinkIhavedonewiththatgentlemanatlast.

For sevenor eightmonthshebehaved so remarkablywell, andmanaged so

skilfully too, that I was almost completely off my guard, and was reallybeginning to lookuponhimasa friend,andeven to treathimas such,withcertain prudent restrictions (which I deemed scarcely necessary); when,presuming uponmy unsuspecting kindness, he thought hemight venture tooverstep the bounds of decent moderation and propriety that had so longrestrained him. It was on a pleasant evening at the close of May: I waswanderinginthepark,andhe,onseeingmethereasherodepast,madeboldtoenterandapproachme,dismountingandleavinghishorseatthegate.Thiswas the first time he had ventured to comewithin its inclosure since I hadbeenleftalone,withoutthesanctionofhismother’sorsister’scompany,oratleasttheexcuseofamessagefromthem.Buthemanagedtoappearsocalmand easy, so respectful and self-possessed in his friendliness, that, though alittlesurprised,Iwasneitheralarmednoroffendedattheunusualliberty,andhewalkedwithmeundertheash-treesandbythewater-side,andtalked,withconsiderableanimation,goodtaste,andintelligence,onmanysubjects,beforeIbegantothinkaboutgettingridofhim. Then,afterapause,duringwhichweboth stood gazing on the calm, bluewater—I revolving inmymind thebest means of politely dismissing my companion, he, no doubt, ponderingother matters equally alien to the sweet sights and sounds that alone werepresenttohissenses,—hesuddenlyelectrifiedmebybeginning,inapeculiartone, low, soft, but perfectly distinct, to pour forth the most unequivocalexpressionsofearnestandpassionatelove;pleadinghiscausewithalltheboldyetartfuleloquencehecouldsummontohisaid. ButIcutshorthisappeal,andrepulsedhimsodeterminately,sodecidedly,andwithsuchamixtureofscornfulindignation,temperedwithcool,dispassionatesorrowandpityforhisbenighted mind, that he withdrew, astonished, mortified, and discomforted;and,afewdaysafter,IheardthathehaddepartedforLondon.Hereturned,however,ineightornineweeks,anddidnotentirelykeepalooffromme,butcomported himself in so remarkable a manner that his quick-sighted sistercouldnotfailtonoticethechange.

‘What have you done toWalter, Mrs. Huntingdon?’ said she one morning,whenIhadcalledattheGrove,andhehadjustlefttheroomafterexchanginga fewwordsof thecoldestcivility. ‘Hehasbeensoextremelyceremoniousand stately of late, I can’t imagine what it is all about, unless you havedesperatelyoffendedhim.Tellmewhatitis,thatImaybeyourmediator,andmakeyoufriendsagain.’

‘Ihavedonenothingwillinglytooffendhim,’saidI.‘Ifheisoffended,hecanbesttellyouhimselfwhatitisabout.’

‘I’llaskhim,’criedthegiddygirl,springingupandputtingherheadoutofthewindow:‘he’sonlyinthegarden—Walter!’

‘No,no,Esther!youwill seriouslydispleaseme ifyoudo;andI shall leaveyouimmediately,andnotcomeagainformonths—perhapsyears.’

‘Did you call, Esther?’ said her brother, approaching the window fromwithout.

‘Yes;Iwantedtoaskyou—’

‘Good-morning,Esther,’saidI,takingherhandandgivingitaseveresqueeze.

‘To ask you,’ continued she, ‘to get me a rose for Mrs. Huntingdon.’ Hedeparted. ‘Mrs.Huntingdon,’sheexclaimed, turning tomeandstillholdingme fast by the hand, ‘I’m quite shocked at you—you’re just as angry, anddistant,andcoldasheis:andI’mdeterminedyoushallbeasgoodfriendsaseverbeforeyougo.’

‘Esther, how can you be so rude!’ cried Mrs. Hargrave, who was seatedgravely knitting in her easy-chair. ‘Surely, you neverwill learn to conductyourselflikealady!’

‘Well,mamma,yousaidyourself—‘Buttheyoungladywassilencedbytheuplifted finger of hermamma, accompanied with a very stern shake of thehead.

‘Isn’t she cross?’whispered she tome; but, before I could addmy share ofreproof,Mr.Hargravereappearedatthewindowwithabeautifulmoss-roseinhishand.

‘Here,Esther,I’vebroughtyoutherose,’saidhe,extendingittowardsher.

‘Giveitheryourself,youblockhead!’criedshe,recoilingwithaspringfrombetweenus.

‘Mrs. Huntingdon would rather receive it from you,’ replied he, in a veryserioustone,butloweringhisvoicethathismothermightnothear.Hissistertooktheroseandgaveittome.

‘Mybrother’scompliments,Mrs.Huntingdon,andhehopesyouandhewillcome to a better understandingby-and-by. Will that do,Walter?’ added thesaucy girl, turning to him and putting her arm round his neck, as he stoodleaninguponthesillofthewindow—‘orshouldIhavesaidthatyouaresorryyouweresotouchy?orthatyouhopeshewillpardonyouroffence?’

‘Yousillygirl!youdon’tknowwhatyouaretalkingabout,’repliedhegravely.

‘IndeedIdon’t:forI’mquiteinthedark!’

‘Now, Esther,’ interposed Mrs. Hargrave, who, if equally benighted on thesubjectofourestrangement,sawatleastthatherdaughterwasbehavingvery

improperly,‘Imustinsistuponyourleavingtheroom!’

‘Pray don’t, Mrs. Hargrave, for I’m going to leave it myself,’ said I, andimmediatelymademyadieux.

AboutaweekafterMr.Hargravebroughthissistertoseeme.Heconductedhimself, at first, with his usual cold, distant, half-stately, half-melancholy,altogether injuredair;butEsthermadeno remarkupon it this time: shehadevidentlybeenschooled intobettermanners. She talkedtome,andlaughedandrompedwithlittleArthur,herlovedandlovingplaymate.He,somewhattomy discomfort, enticed her from the room to have a run in the hall, andthenceintothegarden. Igotuptostir thefire. Mr.HargraveaskedifIfeltcold,andshutthedoor—averyunseasonablepieceofofficiousness,forIhadmeditatedfollowingthenoisyplayfellowsiftheydidnotspeedilyreturn.Hethentookthelibertyofwalkinguptothefirehimself,andaskingmeifIwereaware thatMr. Huntingdon was now at the seat of Lord Lowborough, andlikelytocontinuetheresometime.

‘No;but it’snomatter,’ I answeredcarelessly; and ifmycheekglowed likefire,itwasratheratthequestionthantheinformationitconveyed.

‘Youdon’tobjecttoit?’hesaid.

‘Notatall,ifLordLowboroughlikeshiscompany.’

‘Youhavenoloveleftforhim,then?’

‘Nottheleast.’

‘Iknewthat—Iknewyouweretoohigh-mindedandpureinyourownnatureto continue to regardone soutterly false andpollutedwith any feelingsbutthoseofindignationandscornfulabhorrence!’

‘Ishenotyourfriend?’saidI,turningmyeyesfromthefiretohisface,withperhapsaslighttouchofthosefeelingsheassignedtoanother.

‘Hewas,’repliedhe,withthesamecalmgravityasbefore;‘butdonotwrongmebysupposingthatIcouldcontinuemyfriendshipandesteemtoamanwhocouldsoinfamously,soimpiouslyforsakeandinjureonesotranscendently—well,Iwon’tspeakofit.Buttellme,doyouneverthinkofrevenge?’

‘Revenge!No—whatgoodwouldthatdo?—itwouldmakehimnobetter,andmenohappier.’

‘Idon’tknowhowtotalktoyou,Mrs.Huntingdon,’saidhe,smiling;‘youareonly half a woman—your nature must be half human, half angelic. Suchgoodnessoverawesme;Idon’tknowwhattomakeofit.’

‘Then,sir,Ifearyoumustbeverymuchworsethanyoushouldbe,ifI,amere

ordinary mortal, am, by your own confession, so vastly your superior; andsince there exists so little sympathy between us, I thinkwe had better eachlookoutforsomemorecongenialcompanion.’Andforthwithmovingtothewindow,Ibegantolookoutformylittlesonandhisgayyoungfriend.

‘No,Iamtheordinarymortal,Imaintain,’repliedMr.Hargrave. ‘Iwillnotallow myself to be worse than my fellows; but you, Madam—I equallymaintainthereisnobodylikeyou.Butareyouhappy?’heaskedinaserioustone.

‘Ashappyassomeothers,Isuppose.’

‘Areyouashappyasyoudesiretobe?’

‘Nooneissoblestasthatcomestoonthissideeternity.’

‘OnethingIknow,’returnedhe,withadeepsadsigh;‘youareimmeasurablyhappierthanIam.’

‘Iamverysorryforyou,then,’Icouldnothelpreplying.

‘Areyou,indeed?No,forifyouwereyouwouldbegladtorelieveme.’

‘AndsoIshouldifIcoulddosowithoutinjuringmyselforanyother.’

‘AndcanyousupposethatIshouldwishyoutoinjureyourself?No:onthecontrary, it is your own happiness I long for more than mine. You aremiserable now, Mrs. Huntingdon,’ continued he, looking me boldly in theface. ‘You do not complain, but I see—and feel—and know that you aremiserable—and must remain so as long as you keep those walls ofimpenetrable ice about your still warm and palpitating heart; and I ammiserable,too.DeigntosmileonmeandIamhappy:trustme,andyoushallbehappyalso,forifyouareawomanIcanmakeyouso—andIwilldoitinspite of yourself!’ he muttered between his teeth; ‘and as for others, thequestion is between ourselves alone: you cannot injure your husband, youknow,andnooneelsehasanyconcerninthematter.’

‘Ihaveason,Mr.Hargrave,andyouhaveamother,’saidI,retiringfromthewindow,whitherhehadfollowedme.

‘Theyneednotknow,’hebegan;butbeforeanythingmorecouldbesaidoneither side, Esther and Arthur re-entered the room. The former glanced atWalter’sflushed,excitedcountenance,andthenatmine—alittleflushedandexcited too, I daresay, though from far different causes. She must havethoughtwehadbeenquarrellingdesperately,andwasevidentlyperplexedanddisturbedatthecircumstance;butshewastoopoliteortoomuchafraidofherbrother’sangertorefertoit.Sheseatedherselfonthesofa,andputtingbackherbright,goldenringlets,thatwerescatteredinwildprofusionoverherface,

sheimmediatelybegantotalkaboutthegardenandherlittleplayfellow,andcontinuedtochatterawayinherusualstraintillherbrothersummonedhertodepart.

‘IfIhavespokentoowarmly,forgiveme,’hemurmuredontakinghisleave,‘orIshallneverforgivemyself.’ Esthersmiledandglancedatme:Imerelybowed, and her countenance fell. She thought it a poor return forWalter’sgenerousconcession,andwasdisappointedinherfriend.Poorchild,shelittleknowstheworldshelivesin!

Mr. Hargrave had not an opportunity of meeting me again in private forseveralweeksafterthis;butwhenhedidmeetmetherewaslessofprideandmoreoftouchingmelancholyinhismannerthanbefore.Oh,howheannoyedme!IwasobligedatlastalmostentirelytoremitmyvisitstotheGrove,attheexpense of deeply offending Mrs. Hargrave and seriously afflicting poorEsther,whoreallyvaluesmysocietyforwantofbetter,andwhooughtnottosuffer for the fault of her brother. But that indefatigable foe was not yetvanquished:heseemedtobealwaysonthewatch.Ifrequentlysawhimridinglingeringlypastthepremises,lookingsearchinglyroundhimashewent—or,ifIdidnot,Racheldid.Thatsharp-sightedwomansoonguessedhowmattersstoodbetweenus,anddescryingtheenemy’smovementsfromherelevationatthe nursery-window, she would give me a quiet intimation if she saw mepreparingforawalkwhenshehadreasontobelievehewasabout,ortothinkitlikelythathewouldmeetorovertakemeinthewayImeanttotraverse.Iwould thendefermy ramble,or confinemyself for thatday to theparkandgardens,or, if theproposedexcursionwasamatterof importance,suchasavisittothesickorafflicted,IwouldtakeRachelwithme,andthenIwasnevermolested.

Butonemild,sunshinyday,earlyinNovember,Ihadventuredforthalonetovisitthevillageschoolandafewofthepoortenants,andonmyreturnIwasalarmed at the clatter of a horse’s feet behind me, approaching at a rapid,steadytrot.TherewasnostileorgapathandbywhichIcouldescapeintothefields,soIwalkedquietlyon,sayingtomyself,‘Itmaynotbeheafterall;andifitis,andifhedoannoyme,itshallbeforthelasttime,Iamdetermined,ifthere be power in words and looks against cool impudence and mawkishsentimentalitysoinexhaustibleashis.’

Thehorsesoonovertookme,andwasreinedupclosebesideme.ItwasMr.Hargrave.Hegreetedmewithasmileintendedtobesoftandmelancholy,buthistriumphantsatisfactionathavingcaughtmeatlastsoshonethroughthatitwasquiteafailure.AfterbrieflyansweringhissalutationandinquiringaftertheladiesattheGrove,Iturnedawayandwalkedon;buthefollowedandkepthishorseatmyside: itwasevidenthe intended tobemycompanionall the

way.

‘Well!Idon’tmuchcare.Ifyouwantanotherrebuff,takeit—andwelcome,’wasmyinwardremark.‘Now,sir,whatnext?’

Thisquestion,thoughunspoken,wasnotlongunanswered;afterafewpassingobservationsuponindifferentsubjects,hebeganinsolemntonesthefollowingappealtomyhumanity:—

‘ItwillbefouryearsnextAprilsinceIfirstsawyou,Mrs.Huntingdon—youmay have forgotten the circumstance, but I never can. I admired you thenmostdeeply,butIdarednotloveyou.InthefollowingautumnIsawsomuchofyourperfectionsthatIcouldnotfailtoloveyou,thoughIdarednotshowit.ForupwardsofthreeyearsIhaveenduredaperfectmartyrdom.Fromtheanguishofsuppressedemotions,intenseandfruitlesslongings,silentsorrow,crushedhopes,andtrampledaffections,IhavesufferedmorethanIcantell,oryou imagine—andyouwere the causeof it, andnot altogether the innocentcause. Myyouth iswasting away;myprospects are darkened;my life is adesolateblank;Ihavenorestdayornight: Iambecomeaburdentomyselfandothers,andyoumightsavemebyaword—aglance,andwillnotdoit—isthisright?’

‘Inthefirstplace,Idon’tbelieveyou,’answeredI;‘inthesecond,ifyouwillbesuchafool,Ican’thinderit.’

‘Ifyouaffect,’repliedhe,earnestly,‘toregardasfollythebest,thestrongest,themostgodlikeimpulsesofournature,Idon’tbelieveyou.Iknowyouarenottheheartless,icybeingyoupretendtobe—youhadaheartonce,andgaveittoyourhusband.Whenyoufoundhimutterlyunworthyofthetreasure,youreclaimed it; and you will not pretend that you loved that sensual, earthly-mindedprofligatesodeeply,sodevotedly,thatyoucanneverloveanother?Iknow that there are feelings in your nature that have never yet been calledforth;Iknow,too,thatinyourpresentneglectedlonelystateyouareandmustbemiserable. Youhave it inyourpower to raise twohumanbeings fromastateofactualsufferingtosuchunspeakablebeatitudeasonlygenerous,noble,self-forgettinglovecangive(foryoucanlovemeifyouwill);youmaytellmethatyouscornanddetestme,but,sinceyouhavesetmetheexampleofplainspeaking,IwillanswerthatIdonotbelieveyou.Butyouwillnotdoit!youchooserathertoleaveusmiserable;andyoucoollytellmeitisthewillofGodthat we should remain so. You may call this religion, but I call it wildfanaticism!’

‘Thereisanotherlifebothforyouandforme,’saidI.‘IfitbethewillofGodthatweshouldsowintearsnow,itisonlythatwemayreapinjoyhereafter.ItisHiswill thatwe should not injure others by the gratification of our own

earthlypassions;andyouhaveamother,andsisters,andfriendswhowouldbeseriously injured by your disgrace; and I, too, have friends,whose peace ofmind shall never be sacrificed to my enjoyment, or yours either, with myconsent;andifIwerealoneintheworld,IhavestillmyGodandmyreligion,and I would sooner die than disgrace my calling and break my faith withheaventoobtainafewbriefyearsoffalseandfleetinghappiness—happinesssuretoendinmiseryevenhere—formyselforanyother!’

‘Thereneedbenodisgrace, nomiseryor sacrifice in anyquarter,’ persistedhe.‘Idonotaskyoutoleaveyourhomeordefytheworld’sopinion.’ButIneednotrepeatallhisarguments.Irefutedthemtothebestofmypower;butthatpowerwasprovokinglysmall,atthemoment,forIwastoomuchflurriedwithindignation—andevenshame—thatheshouldthusdaretoaddressme,toretainsufficientcommandofthoughtandlanguagetoenablemeadequatelytocontendagainsthispowerfulsophistries.Finding,however,thathecouldnotbe silenced by reason, and even covertly exulted in his seeming advantage,and ventured to deride those assertions I had not the coolness to prove, Ichangedmycourseandtriedanotherplan.

‘Doyoureallyloveme?’saidI,seriously,pausingandlookinghimcalmlyintheface.

‘DoIloveyou!’criedhe.

‘Truly?’Idemanded.

His countenance brightened; he thought his triumph was at hand. Hecommenced a passionate protestation of the truth and fervour of hisattachment,whichIcutshortbyanotherquestion:—

‘Butisitnotaselfishlove?Haveyouenoughdisinterestedaffectiontoenableyoutosacrificeyourownpleasuretomine?’

‘Iwouldgivemylifetoserveyou.’

‘Idon’twantyourlife;buthaveyouenoughrealsympathyformyafflictionsto induce you to make an effort to relieve them, at the risk of a littlediscomforttoyourself?’

‘Tryme,andsee.’

‘Ifyouhave,nevermentionthissubjectagain.Youcannotrecurtoitinanywaywithoutdoublingtheweightofthosesufferingsyousofeelinglydeplore.Ihavenothingleftmebutthesolaceofagoodconscienceandahopefultrustin heaven, and you labour continually to robme of these. If you persist, Imustregardyouasmydeadliestfoe.’

‘Buthearmeamoment—’

‘No, sir! You said you would give your life to serveme; I only ask yoursilenceononeparticularpoint.Ihavespokenplainly;andwhatIsayImean.If you torment me in this way any more, I must conclude that yourprotestationsareentirelyfalse,andthatyouhatemeinyourheartasferventlyasyouprofesstoloveme!’

Hebithislip,andbenthiseyesuponthegroundinsilenceforawhile.

‘ThenImustleaveyou,’saidheatlength,lookingsteadilyuponme,asifwiththe last hope of detecting some token of irrepressible anguish or dismayawakenedbythosesolemnwords.‘Imustleaveyou.Icannotlivehere,andbeforeversilentontheall-absorbingsubjectofmythoughtsandwishes.’

‘Formerly,Ibelieve,youspentbutlittleofyourtimeathome,’Ianswered;‘itwill do youno harm to absent yourself again, for awhile—if that be reallynecessary.’

‘Ifthatbereallypossible,’hemuttered;‘andcanyoubidmegosocoolly?Doyoureallywishit?’

‘MostcertainlyIdo.Ifyoucannotseemewithouttormentingmeasyouhavelatelydone,Iwouldgladlysayfarewellandneverseeyoumore.’

Hemadenoanswer,but,bending fromhishorse,heldouthishand towardsme.Ilookedupathisface,andsawthereinsuchalookofgenuineagonyofsoul,that,whetherbitterdisappointment,orwoundedpride,orlingeringlove,orburningwrathwereuppermost,Icouldnothesitatetoputmyhandinhisasfrankly as if I bade a friend farewell. He grasped it very hard, andimmediately put spurs to his horse and galloped away. Very soon after, Ilearned that hewas gone toParis,where he still is; and the longer he staystherethebetterforme.

IthankGodforthisdeliverance!

CHAPTERXXXVIII

December20th,1826.—Thefifthanniversaryofmywedding-day,and,Itrust,the last I shall spend under this roof. My resolution is formed, my planconcocted,andalreadypartlyputinexecution.Myconsciencedoesnotblameme, butwhile the purpose ripens letme beguile a few of these longwinterevenings in stating the case for my own satisfaction: a dreary amusementenough,buthavingtheairofausefuloccupation,andbeingpursuedasatask,itwillsuitmebetterthanalighterone.

In September, quiet Grassdale was again alive with a party of ladies andgentlemen(socalled),consistingofthesameindividualsasthoseinvitedtheyearbeforelast,withtheadditionoftwoorthreeothers,amongwhomwereMrs. Hargrave and her younger daughter. The gentlemen and LadyLowboroughwere invited for the pleasure and convenience of the host; theotherladies,Isuppose,forthesakeofappearances,andtokeepmeincheck,andmakemediscreetandcivilinmydemeanour.Buttheladiesstayedonlythreeweeks;thegentlemen,withtwoexceptions,abovetwomonths:fortheirhospitable entertainerwas loth to partwith them and be left alonewith hisbrightintellect,hisstainlessconscience,andhislovedandlovingwife.

On thedayofLadyLowborough’s arrival, I followedher intoher chamber,andplainly toldher that, if I foundreason tobelieve thatshestillcontinuedher criminal connectionwithMr.Huntingdon, I should think itmy absolutedutytoinformherhusbandofthecircumstance—orawakenhissuspicionsatleast—however painful itmight be, or however dreadful the consequences.She was startled at first by the declaration, so unexpected, and sodeterminately yet calmly delivered; but rallying in a moment, she coollyrepliedthat,ifIsawanythingatallreprehensibleorsuspiciousinherconduct,shewouldfreelygivemeleavetotellhislordshipallaboutit.Willingtobesatisfied with this, I left her; and certainly I saw nothing thenceforthparticularly reprehensible or suspicious in her demeanour towards her host;butthenIhadtheothergueststoattendto,andIdidnotwatchthemnarrowly—for,toconfessthetruth,Ifearedtoseeanythingbetweenthem.Inolongerregarded itasanyconcernofmine,and if itwasmyduty toenlightenLordLowborough,itwasapainfulduty,andIdreadedtobecalledtoperformit.

ButmyfearswerebroughttoanendinamannerIhadnotanticipated.Oneevening, about a fortnight after the visitors’ arrival, I had retired into thelibrary to snatch a few minutes’ respite from forced cheerfulness andwearisomediscourse,foraftersolongaperiodofseclusion,drearyindeedasIhadoftenfoundit,Icouldnotalwaysbeartobedoingviolencetomyfeelings,and goadingmypowers to talk, and smile and listen, and play the attentivehostess, or even the cheerful friend: I had just ensconcedmyselfwithin thebowofthewindow,andwaslookingoutuponthewest,wherethedarkeninghills rose sharply defined against the clear amber light of evening, thatgraduallyblendedand fadedaway into thepure,paleblueof theupper sky,whereonebrightstarwasshiningthrough,asiftopromise—‘Whenthatdyinglightisgone,theworldwillnotbeleftindarkness,andtheywhotrustinGod,whose minds are unbeclouded by the mists of unbelief and sin, are neverwholly comfortless,’—when I heard a hurried step approaching, and LordLowboroughentered. Thisroomwasstillhis favouriteresort. Heflung thedoortowithunusualviolence,andcasthishatasideregardlesswhereitfell.

Whatcouldbethematterwithhim?Hisfacewasghastlypale;hiseyeswerefixed upon the ground; his teeth clenched: his forehead glistened with thedewsofagony.Itwasplainheknewhiswrongsatlast!

Unconsciousofmypresence,hebegantopacetheroominastateoffearfulagitation,violentlywringinghishandsandutteringlowgroansor incoherentejaculations.Imadeamovementtolethimknowthathewasnotalone;buthewastoopreoccupiedtonoticeit.Perhaps,whilehisbackwastowardsme,Imightcrosstheroomandslipawayunobserved.Irosetomaketheattempt,butthenheperceivedme.Hestartedandstoodstillamoment;thenwipedhisstreaming forehead, and, advancing towards me, with a kind of unnaturalcomposure,saidinadeep,almostsepulchraltone,—‘Mrs.Huntingdon,Imustleaveyouto-morrow.’

‘To-morrow!’Irepeated.‘Idonotaskthecause.’

‘You know it then, and you can be so calm!’ said he, surveying me withprofoundastonishment,notunmingledwithakindofresentfulbitterness,asitappearedtome.

‘I have so long been aware of—‘ I paused in time, and added, ‘of myhusband’scharacter,thatnothingshocksme.’

‘But this—howlonghaveyoubeenawareof this?’demandedhe, layinghisclenchedhandonthetablebesidehim,andlookingmekeenlyandfixedlyintheface.

Ifeltlikeacriminal.

‘Notlong,’Ianswered.

‘You knew it!’ cried he, with bitter vehemence—‘and you did not tellme!Youhelpedtodeceiveme!’

‘Mylord,Ididnothelptodeceiveyou.’

‘Thenwhydidyounottellme?’

‘BecauseIknewitwouldbepainfultoyou.Ihopedshewouldreturntoherduty,andthentherewouldbenoneedtoharrowyourfeelingswithsuch—’

‘O God! how long has this been going on? How long has it been, Mrs.Huntingdon?—Tell me—I must know!’ exclaimed, with intense and fearfuleagerness.

‘Twoyears,Ibelieve.’

‘Greatheaven!andshehasdupedmeall this time!’ Heturnedawaywithasuppressed groan of agony, and paced the room again in a paroxysm of

renewedagitation.Myheartsmoteme;butIwouldtrytoconsolehim,thoughIknewnothowtoattemptit.

‘Sheisawickedwoman,’Isaid.‘Shehasbaselydeceivedandbetrayedyou.She is as littleworthy of your regret as shewas of your affection. Let herinjureyounofurther;abstractyourselffromher,andstandalone.’

‘Andyou,Madam,’saidhesternly,arrestinghimself,andturningrounduponme,‘youhaveinjuredmetoobythisungenerousconcealment!’

Therewasasuddenrevulsioninmyfeelings.Somethingrosewithinme,andurgedme to resent this harsh return formy heartfelt sympathy, and defendmyselfwithansweringseverity.Happily,Ididnotyieldtotheimpulse.Isawhis anguish as, suddenly smiting his forehead, he turned abruptly to thewindow, and, looking upward at the placid sky,murmured passionately, ‘OGod, that I might die!’—and felt that to add one drop of bitterness to thatalreadyoverflowing cupwouldbeungenerous indeed. Andyet I fear therewasmore coldness thangentleness in thequiet toneofmy reply:—‘Imightoffermanyexcusesthatsomewouldadmittobevalid,butIwillnotattempttoenumeratethem—’

‘I know them,’ said he hastily: ‘you would say that it was no business ofyours:thatIoughttohavetakencareofmyself;thatifmyownblindnesshasledme into this pit of hell, I have no right to blame another for givingmecreditforalargeramountofsagacitythanIpossessed—’

‘IconfessIwaswrong,’continuedI,withoutregardingthisbitterinterruption;‘butwhetherwantofcourageormistakenkindnesswasthecauseofmyerror,Ithinkyoublamemetooseverely.ItoldLadyLowboroughtwoweeksago,theveryhourshecame,thatIshouldcertainlythinkitmydutytoinformyouifshecontinuedtodeceiveyou:shegavemefulllibertytodosoifIshouldseeanythingreprehensibleorsuspiciousinherconduct;Ihaveseennothing;andItrustedshehadalteredhercourse.’

HecontinuedgazingfromthewindowwhileIspoke,anddidnotanswer,but,stung by the recollections my words awakened, stamped his foot upon thefloor,groundhisteeth,andcorrugatedhisbrow,likeoneundertheinfluenceofacutephysicalpain.

‘Itwaswrong,itwaswrong!’hemutteredatlength.‘Nothingcanexcuseit;nothing can atone for it,—for nothing can recall those years of cursedcredulity; nothing obliterate them!—nothing, nothing!’ he repeated in awhisper,whosedespairingbitternessprecludedallresentment.

‘WhenIput thecase tomyself, Iownitwaswrong,’ Ianswered; ‘but IcanonlynowregretthatIdidnotseeit inthislightbefore,andthat,asyousay,

nothingcanrecallthepast.’

Something in my voice or in the spirit of this answer seemed to alter hismood. Turning towardsme, and attentively surveyingmy face by the dimlight, he said, in amilder tone than he had yet employed,—‘You, too, havesuffered,Isuppose.’

‘Isufferedmuch,atfirst.’

‘Whenwasthat?’

‘Twoyearsago;andtwoyearshenceyouwillbeascalmasIamnow,andfar,farhappier,Itrust,foryouareaman,andfreetoactasyouplease.’

Somethinglikeasmile,butaverybitterone,crossedhisfaceforamoment.

‘You have not been happy, lately?’ he said, with a kind of effort to regaincomposure, and a determination to waive the further discussion of his owncalamity.

‘Happy?’Irepeated,almostprovokedatsuchaquestion.‘CouldIbeso,withsuchahusband?’

‘I have noticed a change in your appearance since the first years of yourmarriage,’pursuedhe:‘Iobserveditto—tothatinfernaldemon,’hemutteredbetweenhis teeth; ‘andhesaid itwasyourownsour temper thatwaseatingawayyourbloom:itwasmakingyouoldanduglybeforeyourtime,andhadalreadymadehis fireside as comfortless as a convent cell. You smile,Mrs.Huntingdon;nothingmovesyou.Iwishmynaturewereascalmasyours.’

‘Mynaturewasnotoriginallycalm,’saidI. ‘Ihavelearnedtoappearsobydintofhardlessonsandmanyrepeatedefforts.’

AtthisjunctureMr.Hattersleyburstintotheroom.

‘Hallo,Lowborough!’ he began—‘Oh! I beg your pardon,’ he exclaimed onseeingme.‘Ididn’tknowitwasatête-à-tête.Cheerup,man,’hecontinued,giving Lord Lowborough a thump on the back, which caused the latter torecoilfromhimwithlooksofineffabledisgustandirritation.‘Come,Iwanttospeakwithyouabit.’

‘Speak,then.’

‘ButI’mnotsureitwouldbequiteagreeabletotheladywhatIhavetosay.’

‘Thenitwouldnotbeagreeabletome,’saidhislordship,turningtoleavetheroom.

‘Yes, itwould,’ cried the other, following him into the hall. ‘If you’ve theheartofaman,itwouldbetheveryticketforyou.It’sjustthis,mylad,’he

continued, rather lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent me fromhearingeverywordhesaid,thoughthehalf-closeddoorstoodbetweenus.‘Ithinkyou’reanill-usedman—nay,now,don’tflareup;Idon’twanttooffendyou:it’sonlymyroughwayoftalking.Imustspeakrightout,youknow,orelsenotatall;andI’mcome—stopnow! letmeexplain—I’mcometoofferyoumyservices,forthoughHuntingdonismyfriend,he’sadevilishscamp,asweallknow,andI’llbeyourfriendfor thenonce. Iknowwhatit isyouwant,tomakemattersstraight:it’sjusttoexchangeashotwithhim,andthenyou’llfeelyourselfallrightagain;andifanaccidenthappens—why,that’llbeall right too, I daresay, to adesperate fellow likeyou. Comenow,givemeyour hand, and don’t look so black upon it. Name time and place, and I’llmanagetherest.’

‘That,’answeredthemorelow,deliberatevoiceofLordLowborough,‘isjusttheremedymyownheart,orthedevilwithinit,suggested—tomeethim,andnottopartwithoutblood.WhetherIorheshouldfall,orboth,itwouldbeaninexpressiblerelieftome,if—’

‘Justso!Wellthen,—’

‘No!’exclaimedhislordship,withdeep,determinedemphasis.‘ThoughIhatehimfrommyheart,andshouldrejoiceatanycalamitythatcouldbefallhim,I’llleavehimtoGod;andthoughIabhormyownlife,I’llleavethat,too,toHimthatgaveit.’

‘Butyousee,inthiscase,’pleadedHattersley—

‘I’ll not hear you!’ exclaimed his companion, hastily turning away. ‘Notanotherword!I’veenoughtodoagainstthefiendwithinme.’

‘Thenyou’reawhite-liveredfool,andIwashmyhandsofyou,’grumbledthetempter,asheswunghimselfroundanddeparted.

‘Right,right,LordLowborough,’criedI,dartingoutandclaspinghisburninghand,ashewasmovingawaytothestairs.‘Ibegintothinktheworldisnotworthyofyou!’Notunderstandingthissuddenebullition,heturneduponmewithastareofgloomy,bewilderedamazement,thatmademeashamedoftheimpulse to which I had yielded; but soon a more humanised expressiondawned upon his countenance, and before I could withdraw my hand, hepresseditkindly,whileagleamofgenuinefeelingflashedfromhiseyesashemurmured,‘Godhelpusboth!’

‘Amen!’respondedI;andweparted.

I returned to the drawing-room, where, doubtless, my presence would beexpectedbymost,desiredbyoneortwo.Intheante-roomwasMr.Hattersley,railingagainstLordLowborough’spoltroonerybeforeaselectaudience,viz.

Mr. Huntingdon, who was lounging against the table, exulting in his owntreacherous villainy, and laughing his victim to scorn, and Mr. Grimsby,standing by, quietly rubbing his hands and chuckling with fiendishsatisfaction.

Inthedrawing-roomIfoundLadyLowborough,evidentlyinnoveryenviablestate of mind, and struggling hard to conceal her discomposure by anoverstrained affectation of unusual cheerfulness and vivacity, very uncalled-for under the circumstances, for she had herself given the company tounderstandthatherhusbandhadreceivedunpleasantintelligencefromhome,whichnecessitatedhis immediatedeparture,andthathehadsuffereditso tobotherhismindthatithadbroughtonabiliousheadache,owingtowhich,andthepreparationshejudgednecessarytohastenhisdeparture,shebelievedtheywouldnothavethepleasureofseeinghimto-night.However,sheasserted,itwasonlyabusinessconcern,andsoshedidnotintenditshouldtroubleher.ShewasjustsayingthisasIentered,andshedarteduponmesuchaglanceofhardihoodanddefianceasatonceastonishedandrevoltedme.

‘But Iamtroubled,’continuedshe, ‘andvexed too, for I think itmyduty toaccompanyhislordship,andofcourseIamverysorrytopartwithallmykindfriendssounexpectedlyandsosoon.’

‘Andyet,Annabella,’saidEsther,whowassittingbesideher,‘Ineversawyouinbetterspiritsinmylife.’

‘Preciselyso,mylove:becauseIwishtomakethebestofyoursociety,sinceitappearsthisistobethelastnightIamtoenjoyittillheavenknowswhen;and Iwish to leaveagood impressiononyouall,’—sheglanced round,andseeingheraunt’seyefixeduponher,rathertooscrutinizingly,assheprobablythought, shestartedupandcontinued: ‘TowhichendI’llgiveyouasong—shallI,aunt?shallI,Mrs.Huntingdon?shallIladiesandgentlemenall?Verywell.I’lldomybesttoamuseyou.’

SheandLordLowboroughoccupiedtheapartmentsnexttomine.Iknownothowshepassedthenight,butIlayawakethegreaterpartofitlisteningtohisheavysteppacingmonotonouslyupanddownhisdressing-room,whichwasnearestmychamber.OnceIheardhimpauseandthrowsomethingoutofthewindow with a passionate ejaculation; and in the morning, after they weregone, a keen-bladed clasp-knifewas foundon the grass-plot below; a razor,likewise,wassnappedintwoandthrustdeepintothecindersofthegrate,butpartiallycorrodedbythedecayingembers.Sostronghadbeenthetemptationtoendhismiserablelife,sodeterminedhisresolutiontoresistit.

MyheartbledforhimasIlaylisteningtothatceaselesstread.HithertoIhadthoughttoomuchofmyself,toolittleofhim:nowIforgotmyownafflictions,

andthoughtonlyofhis;oftheardentaffectionsomiserablywasted,thefondfaithsocruellybetrayed,the—no,Iwillnotattempttoenumeratehiswrongs—butIhatedhiswifeandmyhusbandmoreintenselythanever,andnotformysake,butforhis.

They departed early in themorning, before any one elsewas down, exceptmyself,andjustasIwasleavingmyroomLordLowboroughwasdescendingto takehisplace in thecarriage,wherehis ladywasalreadyensconced;andArthur(orMr.Huntingdon,asIprefercallinghim,fortheotherismychild’sname)hadthegratuitousinsolencetocomeoutinhisdressing-gowntobidhis‘friend’good-by.

‘What, going already, Lowborough!’ said he. ‘Well, good-morning.’ Hesmilinglyofferedhishand.

I think the other would have knocked him down, had he not instinctivelystarted back before that bony fist quivering with rage and clenched till theknucklesgleamedwhiteandglistening through theskin. Lookinguponhimwith a countenance livid with furious hate, Lord Lowborough mutteredbetweenhisclosedteethadeadlyexecrationhewouldnothaveutteredhadhebeencalmenoughtochoosehiswords,anddeparted.

‘Icallthatanunchristianspiritnow,’saidthevillain.‘ButI’dnevergiveupanoldfriendforthesakeofawife.Youmayhavemineifyoulike,andIcallthathandsome;Icandonomorethanofferrestitution,canI?’

ButLowboroughhadgained thebottomof the stairs, andwasnowcrossingthehall;andMr.Huntingdon,leaningoverthebanisters,calledout,‘Givemylove to Annabella! and I wish you both a happy journey,’ and withdrew,laughing,tohischamber.

He subsequently expressed himself rather glad shewas gone. ‘Shewas sodeucedimperiousandexacting,’saidhe.‘NowIshallbemyownmanagain,andfeelrathermoreatmyease.’

CHAPTERXXXIX

Mygreatestsourceofuneasiness,inthistimeoftrial,wasmyson,whomhisfatherandhisfather’sfriendsdelightedtoencourageinalltheembryovicesalittlechildcanshow,andtoinstructinalltheevilhabitshecouldacquire—inaword, to ‘make aman of him’was one of their staple amusements; and Ineedsaynomoretojustifymyalarmonhisaccount,andmydeterminationtodeliverhimatanyhazardfromthehandsofsuchinstructors.Ifirstattempted

to keep him always withme, or in the nursery, and gave Rachel particularinjunctionsnevertolethimcomedowntodessertaslongasthese‘gentlemen’stayed;butitwasnouse:theseorderswereimmediatelycountermandedandoverruledbyhis father;hewasnotgoing tohave the little fellowmoped todeathbetweenanoldnurseandacursedfoolofamother.Sothelittlefellowcamedowneveryeveninginspiteofhiscrossmamma,andlearnedtotipplewinelikepapa, toswear likeMr.Hattersley,andtohavehisownwaylikeaman,andsentmammatothedevilwhenshetriedtopreventhim.Toseesuchthingsdonewith theroguishnaïvetéof thatpretty littlechild,andhearsuchthings spoken by that small infantile voice, was as peculiarly piquant andirresistiblydrolltothemasitwasinexpressiblydistressingandpainfultome;andwhenhehadsetthetableinaroarhewouldlookrounddelightedlyuponthemall,andaddhisshrilllaughtotheirs.Butifthatbeamingblueeyerestedon me, its light would vanish for a moment, and he would say, in someconcern, ‘Mamma,whydon’tyoulaugh? Makeher laugh,papa—sheneverwill.’

Hence was I obliged to stay among these human brutes, watching anopportunity to get my child away from them instead of leaving themimmediatelyaftertheremovalofthecloth,asIshouldalwaysotherwisehavedone.Hewasneverwillingtogo,andIfrequentlyhadtocarryhimawaybyforce,forwhichhethoughtmeverycruelandunjust;andsometimeshisfatherwould insistuponmylettinghimremain;and thenIwould leavehimtohiskindfriends,andretiretoindulgemybitternessanddespairalone,ortorackmybrainsforaremedytothisgreatevil.

ButhereagainImustdoMr.HargravethejusticetoacknowledgethatIneversawhim laugh at the child’smisdemeanours, nor heardhimutter awordofencouragement to his aspirations after manly accomplishments. But whenanything very extraordinary was said or done by the infant profligate, Inoticed,attimes,apeculiarexpressioninhisfacethatIcouldneitherinterpretnordefine:aslighttwitchingaboutthemusclesofthemouth;asuddenflashintheeye,ashedartedasuddenglanceat thechildandthenatme:andthenIcould fancy there arose a gleam of hard, keen, sombre satisfaction in hiscountenanceatthelookofimpotentwrathandanguishhewastoocertaintobehold in mine. But on one occasion, when Arthur had been behavingparticularly ill, and Mr. Huntingdon and his guests had been particularlyprovoking and insulting to me in their encouragement of him, and Iparticularly anxious to get him out of the room, and on the very point ofdemeaning myself by a burst of uncontrollable passion—Mr. Hargravesuddenly rose fromhis seatwith an aspect of sterndetermination, lifted thechildfromhisfather’sknee,wherehewassittinghalf-tipsy,cockinghisheadandlaughingatme,andexecratingmewithwordshelittleknewthemeaning

of, handedhimoutof the room, and, settinghimdown in thehall, held thedoor open forme, gravely bowed as I withdrew, and closed it after me. Iheardhighwordsexchangedbetweenhimandhisalreadyhalf-inebriatedhostasIdeparted,leadingawaymybewilderedanddisconcertedboy.

But this should not continue: my child must not be abandoned to thiscorruption: better far that he should live in poverty and obscurity, with afugitivemother,thaninluxuryandaffluencewithsuchafather.Theseguestsmight not be with us long, but they would return again: and he, the mostinjuriousof thewhole, his child’sworst enemy,would still remain. I couldendure it formyself,but formyson itmustbeborneno longer: theworld’sopinionandthefeelingsofmyfriendsmustbealikeunheededhere,atleast—alikeunable todetermefrommyduty. ButwhereshouldI findanasylum,andhowobtainsubsistenceforusboth?Oh,Iwouldtakemypreciouschargeatearlydawn,takethecoachtoM—,fleetotheportof—,crosstheAtlantic,and seek a quiet, humble home in New England, where I would supportmyself and him by the labour ofmy hands. The palette and the easel,mydarling playmates once, must be my sober toil-fellows now. But was Isufficiently skilful as an artist to obtain my livelihood in a strange land,withoutfriendsandwithoutrecommendation?No;Imustwaitalittle;Imustlabourhardtoimprovemytalent,andtoproducesomethingworthwhileasaspecimenofmypowers,somethingtospeakfavourablyforme,whetherasanactualpainterorateacher.Brilliantsuccess,ofcourse,Ididnotlookfor,butsome degree of security frompositive failurewas indispensable: Imust nottake my son to starve. And then I must have money for the journey, thepassage, and some little to support us in our retreat in case I should beunsuccessful at first: andnot too little either: forwho could tell how long Imighthavetostrugglewith theindifferenceorneglectofothers,ormyowninexperienceorinabilitytosuittheirtastes?

WhatshouldIdo then? Apply tomybrotherandexplainmycircumstancesandmyresolvestohim?No,no:evenifItoldhimallmygrievances,whichIshouldbeveryreluctanttodo,hewouldbecertaintodisapproveofthestep:itwould seem like madness to him, as it would to my uncle and aunt, or toMilicent. No; Imusthavepatienceandgatherahoardofmyown. Rachelshould be my only confidante—I thought I could persuade her into thescheme; and she should helpme, first, to find out a picture-dealer in somedistant town; then, throughhermeans, Iwouldprivatelysellwhatpictures Ihad on hand thatwould do for such a purpose, and some of those I shouldthereafterpaint. Besides this, Iwouldcontrive todisposeofmy jewels,notthe family jewels, but the few I broughtwithme fromhome, and thosemyuncle gaveme onmymarriage. A fewmonths’ arduous toilmightwell bebornebymewithsuchanendinview;andintheinterimmysoncouldnotbe

muchmoreinjuredthanhewasalready.

Having formed this resolution, I immediatelyset towork toaccomplish it, Imightpossiblyhavebeeninducedtowaxcooluponitafterwards,orperhapstokeepweighingtheprosandconsinmymindtillthelatteroverbalancedtheformer, and I was driven to relinquish the project altogether, or delay theexecutionofittoanindefiniteperiod,hadnotsomethingoccurredtoconfirmmeinthatdetermination,towhichIstilladhere,whichIstillthinkIdidwelltoform,andshalldobettertoexecute.

SinceLordLowborough’sdepartureIhadregardedthelibraryasentirelymyown,asecureretreatatallhoursoftheday.Noneofourgentlemenhadthesmallestpretensionstoaliterarytaste,exceptMr.Hargrave;andhe,atpresent,wasquitecontentedwiththenewspapersandperiodicalsof theday. Andif,byanychance,heshouldlookinhere,Ifeltassuredhewouldsoondepartonseeingme,for,insteadofbecominglesscoolanddistanttowardsme,hehadbecomedecidedlymoresosincethedepartureofhismotherandsisters,whichwasjustwhatIwished.Here,then,Isetupmyeasel,andhereIworkedatmycanvasfromdaylighttilldusk,withverylittleintermission,savingwhenpurenecessity, or my duties to little Arthur, called me away: for I still thoughtpropertodevotesomeportionofeverydayexclusivelytohisinstructionandamusement. But, contrary tomy expectation, on the thirdmorning,while Iwas thus employed, Mr. Hargrave did look in, and did not immediatelywithdrawonseeingme.Heapologizedforhisintrusion,andsaidhewasonlycome for a book; butwhen he had got it, he condescended to cast a glanceovermypicture.Beingamanoftaste,hehadsomethingtosayonthissubjectas well as another, and having modestly commented on it, without muchencouragement from me, he proceeded to expatiate on the art in general.Receivingnoencouragementinthateither,hedroppedit,butdidnotdepart.

‘You don’t give usmuch of your company,Mrs.Huntingdon,’ observed he,afterabriefpause,duringwhichIwentoncoollymixingandtemperingmycolours;‘andIcannotwonderatit,foryoumustbeheartilysickofusall.Imyselfamso thoroughlyashamedofmycompanions,andsowearyof theirirrational conversation and pursuits—now that there is no one to humanizethemandkeepthemincheck,sinceyouhavejustlyabandonedustoourowndevices—thatIthinkIshallpresentlywithdrawfromamongstthem,probablywithinthisweek;andIcannotsupposeyouwillregretmydeparture.’

Hepaused.Ididnotanswer.

‘Probably,’headded,withasmile,‘youronlyregretonthesubjectwillbethatIdonottakeallmycompanionsalongwithme.Iflattermyself,attimes,thatthoughamongthemIamnotofthem;butitisnaturalthatyoushouldbegladtogetridofme.Imayregretthis,butIcannotblameyouforit.’

‘I shall not rejoice at your departure, for you can conduct yourself like agentleman,’saidI,thinkingitbutrighttomakesomeacknowledgmentforhisgood behaviour; ‘but Imust confess I shall rejoice to bid adieu to the rest,inhospitableasitmayappear.’

‘Noonecanblameyouforsuchanavowal,’repliedhegravely:‘noteventhegentlemen themselves, I imagine. I’ll just tell you,’ he continued, as ifactuatedbyasuddenresolution,‘whatwassaidlastnightinthedining-room,afteryouleftus:perhapsyouwillnotmindit,asyou’resoveryphilosophicaloncertainpoints,’headdedwithaslightsneer.‘TheyweretalkingaboutLordLowboroughandhisdelectablelady, thecauseofwhosesuddendepartureisnosecretamongstthem;andhercharacterissowellknowntothemall,that,nearlyrelatedtomeassheis,Icouldnotattempttodefendit.Curseme!’hemuttered, par parenthese, ‘if I don’t have vengeance for this! If the villainmustdisgracethefamily,mustheblazonitabroadtoeverylow-bredknaveofhis acquaintance? I beg your pardon, Mrs. Huntingdon. Well, they weretalkingofthesethings,andsomeofthemremarkedthat,asshewasseparatedfromherhusband,hemightseeheragainwhenhepleased.’

‘“Thankyou,”saidhe;“I’vehadenoughofherforthepresent:I’llnottroubletoseeher,unlessshecomestome.”

‘“Thenwhatdoyoumeantodo,Huntingdon,whenwe’regone?”saidRalphHattersley.“Doyoumeantoturnfromtheerrorofyourways,andbeagoodhusband,agoodfather,andsoforth;asIdo,whenIgetshutofyouandalltheserollickingdevilsyoucallyourfriends?Ithinkit’stime;andyourwifeisfiftytimestoogoodforyou,youknow—”

‘And he added some praise of you, which you would not thank me forrepeating, nor him for uttering; proclaiming it aloud, as he did, withoutdelicacyordiscrimination,inanaudiencewhereitseemedprofanationtoutteryour name: himself utterly incapable of understanding or appreciating yourrealexcellences. Huntingdon,meanwhile,satquietlydrinkinghiswine,—orlooking smilingly into his glass and offering no interruption or reply, tillHattersleyshoutedout,—“Doyouhearme,man?”

‘“Yes,goon,”saidhe.

‘“Nay,I’vedone,”repliedtheother:“Ionlywanttoknowifyouintendtotakemyadvice.”

‘“Whatadvice?”

‘“Toturnoveranewleaf,youdouble-dyedscoundrel,”shoutedRalph,“andbegyourwife’spardon,andbeagoodboyforthefuture.”

‘“My wife! what wife? I have no wife,” replied Huntingdon, looking

innocentlyupfromhisglass,“orifIhave,lookyou,gentlemen:Ivaluehersohighly that any one among you, that can fancy her, may have her andwelcome:youmay,byJove,andmyblessingintothebargain!”

‘I—hem—someone asked if he really meant what he said; upon which hesolemnly swore he did, and no mistake. What do you think of that, Mrs.Huntingdon?’askedMr.Hargrave,afterashortpause,duringwhichIhadfelthewaskeenlyexaminingmyhalf-avertedface.

‘Isay,’repliedI,calmly,‘thatwhatheprizessolightlywillnotbelonginhispossession.’

‘You cannotmean that youwill break your heart and die for the detestableconductofaninfamousvillainlikethat!’

‘Bynomeans:myheartistoothoroughlydriedtobebrokeninahurry,andImeantoliveaslongasIcan.’

‘Willyouleavehimthen?’

‘Yes.’

‘When:andhow?’askedhe,eagerly.

‘WhenIamready,andhowIcanmanageitmosteffectually.’

‘Butyourchild?’

‘Mychildgoeswithme.’

‘Hewillnotallowit.’

‘Ishallnotaskhim.’

‘Ah, then, it is a secret flight you meditate! but with whom, Mrs.Huntingdon?’

‘Withmyson:andpossibly,hisnurse.’

‘Alone—andunprotected!Butwherecanyougo?whatcanyoudo?Hewillfollowyouandbringyouback.’

‘Ihave laidmyplans toowell for that. LetmeoncegetclearofGrassdale,andIshallconsidermyselfsafe.’

Mr.Hargraveadvancedonesteptowardsme,lookedmeintheface,anddrewin his breath to speak; but that look, that heightened colour, that suddensparkleoftheeye,mademybloodriseinwrath:Iabruptlyturnedaway,and,snatchingupmybrush,begantodashawayatmycanvaswithrathertoomuchenergyforthegoodofthepicture.

‘Mrs.Huntingdon,’saidhewithbittersolemnity,‘youarecruel—crueltome—crueltoyourself.’

‘Mr.Hargrave,rememberyourpromise.’

‘Imustspeak:myheartwillburstifIdon’t!Ihavebeensilentlongenough,andyoumusthearme!’criedhe,boldly interceptingmyretreat to thedoor.‘You tell me you owe no allegiance to your husband; he openly declareshimselfwearyofyou,andcalmlygivesyouuptoanybodythatwilltakeyou;youareabouttoleavehim;noonewillbelievethatyougoalone;alltheworldwillsay,“Shehaslefthimatlast,andwhocanwonderatit?Fewcanblameher,fewerstillcanpityhim;butwhoisthecompanionofherflight?”Thusyouwill have no credit for your virtue (if you call it such): even your bestfriendswillnotbelieveinit;becauseitismonstrous,andnottobecreditedbutbythosewhosuffer,fromtheeffectsofit,suchcrueltormentsthattheyknowit tobeindeedreality. Butwhatcanyoudointhecold,roughworldalone?you,ayoungandinexperiencedwoman,delicatelynurtured,andutterly—’

‘Inaword,youwouldadvisemetostaywhereIam,’interruptedI.‘Well,I’llseeaboutit.’

‘By allmeans, leave him!’ cried he earnestly; ‘but NOT alone!Helen! letmeprotectyou!’

‘Never!whileheavensparesmyreason,’repliedI,snatchingawaythehandhehadpresumedtoseizeandpressbetweenhisown.Buthewasinforitnow;hehadfairlybrokenthebarrier:hewascompletelyroused,anddeterminedtohazardallforvictory.

‘Imustnotbedenied!’exclaimedhe,vehemently;andseizingbothmyhands,heheldthemverytight,butdroppeduponhisknee,andlookedupinmyfacewithahalf-imploring,half-imperiousgaze.‘Youhavenoreasonnow:youareflying in the face of heaven’s decrees. God has designed me to be yourcomfort and protector—I feel it, I know it as certainly as if a voice fromheavendeclared,“Yetwainshallbeoneflesh”—andyouspurnmefromyou—’

‘Letmego,Mr.Hargrave!’saidI,sternly.Butheonlytightenedhisgrasp.

‘Letmego!’Irepeated,quiveringwithindignation.

His facewasalmostopposite thewindowasheknelt. Witha slight start, Isawhimglance towards it;and thenagleamofmalicious triumph lituphiscountenance.Lookingovermyshoulder,Ibeheldashadowjustretiringroundthecorner.

‘That isGrimsby,’ saidhedeliberately. ‘Hewill reportwhathehas seen to

Huntingdonandalltherest,withsuchembellishmentsashethinksproper.Hehasnoloveforyou,Mrs.Huntingdon—noreverenceforyoursex,nobeliefinvirtue,noadmirationforitsimage.Hewillgivesuchaversionofthisstoryaswillleavenodoubtatallaboutyourcharacter,inthemindsofthosewhohearit.Yourfairfameisgone;andnothingthatIoryoucansaycaneverretrieveit.Butgivemethepowertoprotectyou,andshowmethevillainthatdarestoinsult!’

‘Noonehaseverdared to insultmeasyouaredoingnow!’saidI,at lengthreleasingmyhands,andrecoilingfromhim.

‘Idonotinsultyou,’criedhe:‘Iworshipyou.Youaremyangel,mydivinity!I lay my powers at your feet, and you must and shall accept them!’ heexclaimed, impetuously starting to his feet. ‘I will be your consoler anddefender!andifyourconscienceupbraidyouforit,sayIovercameyou,andyoucouldnotchoosebutyield!’

Ineversawamangoterriblyexcited.Heprecipitatedhimselftowardsme.Isnatchedupmypalette-knife andheld it against him. This startledhim: hestood and gazed at me in astonishment; I daresay I looked as fierce andresolute as he. Imoved to the bell, and putmy hand upon the cord. Thistamedhimstillmore.Withahalf-authoritative,half-deprecatingwaveofthehand,hesoughttodetermefromringing.

‘Standoff,then!’saidI;hesteppedback.‘Andlistentome.Idon’tlikeyou,’I continued, as deliberately and emphatically as I could, to give the greaterefficacytomywords;‘andifIweredivorcedfrommyhusband,orifheweredead,Iwouldnotmarryyou.Therenow!Ihopeyou’resatisfied.’

Hisfacegrewblanchedwithanger.

‘Iamsatisfied,’hereplied,withbitteremphasis,‘thatyouarethemostcold-hearted,unnatural,ungratefulwomanIeveryetbeheld!’

‘Ungrateful,sir?’

‘Ungrateful.’

‘No,Mr.Hargrave,Iamnot.Forallthegoodyoueverdidme,oreverwishedtodo, Imostsincerely thankyou:forall theevilyouhavedoneme,andallyouwould have done, I prayGod to pardon you, andmake you of a bettermind.’ Here the door was thrown open, and Messrs. Huntingdon andHattersley appearedwithout. The latter remained in the hall, busywith hisramrodandhisgun;theformerwalkedin,andstoodwithhisbacktothefire,surveying Mr. Hargrave and me, particularly the former, with a smile ofinsupportablemeaning,accompaniedasitwasbytheimpudenceofhisbrazenbrow,andthesly,malicious,twinkleofhiseye.

‘Well,sir?’saidHargrave,interrogatively,andwiththeairofonepreparedtostandonthedefensive.

‘Well,sir,’returnedhishost.

‘Wewant to know if you are at liberty to join us in a go at the pheasants,Walter,’ interposedHattersley fromwithout. ‘Come! there shall be nothingshotbesides,exceptapussortwo;I’llvouchforthat.’

Walter did not answer, but walked to the window to collect his faculties.Arthurutteredalowwhistle,andfollowedhimwithhiseyes.AslightflushofangerrosetoHargrave’scheek;butinamomentheturnedcalmlyround,andsaidcarelessly:

‘I camehere to bid farewell toMrs.Huntingdon, and tell her Imust go to-morrow.’

‘Humph! You’remighty sudden in your resolution. What takes youoff sosoon,mayIask?’

‘Business,’ returnedhe, repelling theother’s increduloussneerwithaglanceofscornfuldefiance.

‘Very good,’ was the reply; and Hargrave walked away. Thereupon Mr.Huntingdon,gatheringhis coat-lapsunderhis arms, and settinghis shoulderagainst themantel-piece, turned to me, and, addressingme in a low voice,scarcely above his breath, poured forth a volley of the vilest and grossestabuseitwaspossiblefortheimaginationtoconceiveorthetonguetoutter.Ididnotattempttointerrupthim;butmyspiritkindledwithinme,andwhenhehaddone,Ireplied,‘Ifyouraccusationweretrue,Mr.Huntingdon,howdareyoublameme?’

‘She’shitit,byJove!’criedHattersley,rearinghisgunagainstthewall;and,steppingintotheroom,hetookhispreciousfriendbythearm,andattemptedtodraghimaway.‘Come,mylad,’hemuttered;‘trueorfalse,you’venorightto blame her, you know, nor him either; afterwhat you said last night. Socomealong.’

TherewassomethingimpliedherethatIcouldnotendure.

‘Dareyoususpectme,Mr.Hattersley?’saidI,almostbesidemyselfwithfury.

‘Nay, nay, I suspect nobody. It’s all right, it’s all right. So come along,Huntingdon,youblackguard.’

‘Shecan’tdeny it!’ cried thegentleman thusaddressed,grinning inmingledrageandtriumph.‘Shecan’tdenyitifherlifedependedonit!’andmutteringsomemoreabusivelanguage,hewalkedintothehall,andtookuphishatand

gunfromthetable.

‘Iscorntojustifymyselftoyou!’saidI. ‘Butyou,’turningtoHattersley,‘ifyoupresumetohaveanydoubtsonthesubject,askMr.Hargrave.’

Atthistheysimultaneouslyburstintoarudelaughthatmademywholeframetingletothefingers’ends.

‘Whereishe?I’llaskhimmyself!’saidI,advancingtowardsthem.

Suppressinganewburstofmerriment,Hattersleypointedtotheouterdoor.Itwashalfopen.Hisbrother-in-lawwasstandingonthefrontwithout.

‘Mr.Hargrave,willyoupleasetostepthisway?’saidI.

Heturnedandlookedatmeingravesurprise.

‘Step thisway, ifyouplease!’ I repeated, insodeterminedamanner thathecouldnot,ordidnotchoose to resist itsauthority. Somewhat reluctantlyheascendedthestepsandadvancedapaceortwointothehall.

‘Andtellthosegentlemen,’Icontinued—‘thesemen,whetherornotIyieldedtoyoursolicitations.’

‘Idon’tunderstandyou,Mrs.Huntingdon.’

‘You do understand me, sir; and I charge you, upon your honour as agentleman(ifyouhaveany),toanswertruly.DidI,ordidInot?’

‘No,’mutteredhe,turningaway.

‘Speakup,sir;theycan’thearyou.DidIgrantyourrequest?

‘Youdidnot.’

‘No,I’llbeswornshedidn’t,’saidHattersley,‘orhe’dneverlooksoblack.’

‘I’mwilling to grant you the satisfaction of a gentleman,Huntingdon,’ saidMr. Hargrave, calmly addressing his host, but with a bitter sneer upon hiscountenance.

‘Go to the deuce!’ replied the latter, with an impatient jerk of the head.Hargravewithdrewwithalookofcolddisdain,saying,—‘Youknowwheretofindme,shouldyoufeeldisposedtosendafriend.’

Mutteredoathsandcurseswerealltheanswerthisintimationobtained.

‘Now,Huntingdon,yousee!’saidHattersley.‘Clearastheday.’

‘I don’t care what he sees,’ said I, ‘or what he imagines; but you, Mr.Hattersley,whenyouhearmynamebeliedandslandered,willyoudefendit?’

‘Iwill.’

Iinstantlydepartedandshutmyselfintothelibrary.WhatcouldpossessmetomakesucharequestofsuchamanIcannot tell;butdrowningmencatchatstraws: they had driven me desperate between them; I hardly knew what Isaid. There was no other to preserve my name from being blackened andaspersedamongthisnestofbooncompanions,andthroughthem,perhaps,intotheworld;andbesidemyabandonedwretchofahusband,thebase,malignantGrimsby,andthefalsevillainHargrave,thisboorishruffian,coarseandbrutalashewas,shonelikeaglow-worminthedark,amongitsfellowworms.

Whatascenewasthis!CouldIeverhaveimaginedthatIshouldbedoomedto bear such insults undermy own roof—to hear such things spoken inmypresence; nay, spoken to me and of me; and by those who arrogated tothemselvesthenameofgentlemen?AndcouldIhaveimaginedthatIshouldhavebeenabletoendureitascalmly,andtorepeltheirinsultsasfirmlyandasboldlyasIhaddone?Ahardnesssuchasthisistaughtbyroughexperienceanddespairalone.

Suchthoughtsasthesechasedoneanotherthroughmymind,asIpacedtoandfrotheroom,andlonged—oh,howIlonged—totakemychildandleavethemnow,withoutanhour’sdelay!Butitcouldnotbe;therewasworkbeforeme:hardwork,thatmustbedone.

‘Thenletmedoit,’saidI,‘andlosenotamomentinvainrepiningsandidlechafingsagainstmyfate,andthosewhoinfluenceit.’

Andconqueringmyagitationwithapowerfuleffort, I immediately resumedmytask,andlabouredhardallday.

Mr.Hargravediddepartonthemorrow;andIhaveneverseenhimsince.Theothersstayedonfortwoorthreeweekslonger;butIkeptalooffromthemasmuchaspossible,andstillcontinuedmylabour,andhavecontinued it,withalmostunabatedardour,tothepresentday.IsoonacquaintedRachelwithmydesign,confidingallmymotivesand intentions toherear,and,much tomyagreeable surprise, found little difficulty in persuading her to enter intomyviews. She is a sober, cautiouswoman,but she sohateshermaster, and soloveshermistressandhernursling,thatafterseveralejaculations,afewfaintobjections,andmanytearsandlamentationsthatIshouldbebroughttosuchapass,sheapplaudedmyresolutionandconsentedtoaidmewithallhermight:on one condition only: that she might share my exile: otherwise, she wasutterly inexorable, regarding it as perfectmadness forme andArthur to goalone.Withtouchinggenerosity,shemodestlyofferedtoaidmewithherlittlehoard of savings, hoping Iwould ‘excuse her for the liberty, but really, if Iwoulddoherthefavourtoacceptitasaloan,shewouldbeveryhappy.’Of

course I could not think of such a thing; but now, thank heaven, I havegathered a little hoardofmyown, andmypreparations are so far advancedthat I am looking forward to a speedy emancipation. Only let the stormyseverityofthiswinterweatherbesomewhatabated,andthen,somemorning,Mr.Huntingdonwillcomedowntoasolitarybreakfast-table,andperhapsbeclamouringthroughthehouseforhisinvisiblewifeandchild,whentheyaresomefiftymilesontheirwaytotheWesternworld,oritmaybemore:forweshallleavehimhoursbeforethedawn,anditisnotprobablehewilldiscoverthelossofbothuntilthedayisfaradvanced.

IamfullyalivetotheevilsthatmayandmustresultuponthestepIamabouttotake;butIneverwaverinmyresolution,becauseIneverforgetmyson.Itwasonlythismorning,whileIpursuedmyusualemployment,hewassittingatmy feet,quietlyplayingwith the shredsof canvas Ihad thrownupon thecarpet; but hismindwas otherwise occupied, for, in a while, he looked upwistfullyinmyface,andgravelyasked,—‘Mamma,whyareyouwicked?’

‘WhotoldyouIwaswicked,love?’

‘Rachel.’

‘No,Arthur,Rachelneversaidso,Iamcertain.’

‘Well, then, it was papa,’ replied he, thoughtfully. Then, after a reflectivepause,headded, ‘At least, I’ll tellyouhow itwas Igot toknow:when I’mwithpapa,ifIsaymammawantsme,ormammasaysI’mnottodosomethingthathetellsmetodo,healwayssays,“Mammabedamned,”andRachelsaysit’sonlywickedpeoplethataredamned.So,mamma,that’swhyIthinkyoumustbewicked:andIwishyouwouldn’t.’

‘Mydearchild,Iamnot.Thosearebadwords,andwickedpeopleoftensaythemofothersbetter than themselves. Thosewordscannotmakepeoplebedamned,norshowthattheydeserveit.Godwilljudgeusbyourownthoughtsanddeeds,notbywhatotherssayaboutus.Andwhenyouhearsuchwordsspoken,Arthur,remembernevertorepeatthem:itiswickedtosaysuchthingsofothers,nottohavethemsaidagainstyou.’

‘Thenit’spapathat’swicked,’saidhe,ruefully.

‘Papaiswrongtosaysuchthings,andyouwillbeverywrongtoimitatehimnowthatyouknowbetter.’

‘Whatisimitate?’

‘Todoashedoes.’

‘Doesheknowbetter?’

‘Perhapshedoes;butthatisnothingtoyou.’

‘Ifhedoesn’t,yououghttotellhim,mamma.’

‘Ihavetoldhim.’

Thelittlemoralistpausedandpondered.Itriedinvaintodiverthismindfromthesubject.

‘I’msorrypapa’swicked,’saidhemournfully,atlength,‘forIdon’twanthimtogotohell.’Andsosayingheburstintotears.

I consoledhimwith thehope thatperhapshispapawouldalterandbecomegoodbeforehedied—;butisitnottimetodeliverhimfromsuchaparent?

CHAPTERXL

January10th,1827.—Whilewritingtheabove,yesterdayevening,Isatinthedrawing-room.Mr.Huntingdonwaspresent,but,asIthought,asleeponthesofa behindme. He had risen, however, unknown tome, and, actuated bysomebase spiritofcuriosity,been lookingovermyshoulder for Iknownothowlong;forwhenIhadlaidasidemypen,andwasabouttoclosethebook,hesuddenlyplacedhishanduponit,andsaying,—‘Withyourleave,mydear,I’llhavea lookat this,’ forciblywrestedit fromme,and,drawingachair tothe table,composedlysatdown toexamine it: turningback leafafter leaf tofindanexplanationofwhathehadread.Unluckilyforme,hewasmoresoberthatnightthanheusuallyisatsuchanhour.

Of course I did not leave him to pursue this occupation in quiet: I madeseveralattempts tosnatch thebookfromhishands,butheheld it toofirmlyfor that; I upbraided him in bitterness and scorn for his mean anddishonourable conduct, but that had no effect upon him; and, finally, Iextinguished both the candles, but he only wheeled round to the fire, andraisingablazesufficientforhispurposes,calmlycontinuedtheinvestigation.Ihadseriousthoughtsofgettingapitcherofwaterandextinguishingthatlighttoo;butitwasevidenthiscuriositywastookeenlyexcitedtobequenchedbythat,and themoreImanifestedmyanxiety tobafflehisscrutiny, thegreaterwouldbehisdeterminationtopersistinitbesidesitwastoolate.

‘Itseemsveryinteresting,love,’saidhe,liftinghisheadandturningtowhereIstood,wringingmyhandsinsilentrageandanguish;‘butit’sratherlong;I’lllookatitsomeothertime;andmeanwhileI’lltroubleyouforyourkeys,mydear.’

‘Whatkeys?’

‘Thekeysofyourcabinet,desk,drawers,andwhateverelseyoupossess,’saidhe,risingandholdingouthishand.

‘I’venotgotthem,’Ireplied.Thekeyofmydesk,infact,wasatthatmomentinthelock,andtheotherswereattachedtoit.

‘Thenyoumustsendforthem,’saidhe;‘andifthatolddevil,Rachel,doesn’timmediatelydeliverthemup,shetrampsbagandbaggagetomorrow.’

‘Shedoesn’tknowwheretheyare,’Ianswered,quietlyplacingmyhanduponthem,andtakingthemfromthedesk,asIthought,unobserved.‘Iknow,butIshallnotgivethemupwithoutareason.’

‘And I know, too,’ said he, suddenly seizing my closed hand and rudelyabstractingthemfromit.Hethentookuponeofthecandlesandrelighteditbythrustingitintothefire.

‘Now,then,’sneeredhe,‘wemusthaveaconfiscationofproperty.But,first,letustakeapeepintothestudio.’

Andputtingthekeysintohispocket,hewalkedintothelibrary. Ifollowed,whetherwiththedimideaofpreventingmischief,oronlytoknowtheworst,Icanhardlytell.Mypaintingmaterialswerelaidtogetheronthecornertable,readyforto-morrow’suse,andonlycoveredwithacloth.Hesoonspiedthemout,andputtingdownthecandle,deliberatelyproceededtocastthemintothefire: palette, paints, bladders, pencils, brushes, varnish: I saw them allconsumed: the palette-knives snapped in two, the oil and turpentine senthissingandroaringupthechimney.Hethenrangthebell.

‘Benson, take those things away,’ saidhe, pointing to the easel, canvas, andstretcher; ‘and tell the housemaid she may kindle the fire with them: yourmistresswon’twantthemanymore.’

Bensonpausedaghastandlookedatme.

‘Takethemaway,Benson,’saidI;andhismastermutteredanoath.

‘And this and all, sir?’ said the astonished servant, referring to the half-finishedpicture.

‘Thatandall,’repliedthemaster;andthethingswereclearedaway.

Mr. Huntingdon then went up-stairs. I did not attempt to follow him, butremainedseatedinthearm-chair,speechless,tearless,andalmostmotionless,tillhereturnedabouthalf-an-hourafter,andwalkinguptome,heldthecandleinmyfaceandpeeredintomyeyeswithlooksandlaughtertooinsultingtobeborne.WithasuddenstrokeofmyhandIdashedthecandletothefloor.

‘Hal-lo!’mutteredhe,startingback;‘she’stheverydevilforspite. Dideveranymortalseesucheyes?—theyshineinthedarklikeacat’s. Oh,you’reasweetone!’ So saying,hegatheredup thecandleand thecandlestick. Theformerbeingbrokenaswellasextinguished,herangforanother.

‘Benson,yourmistresshasbrokenthecandle;bringanother.’

‘Youexposeyourselffinely,’observedI,asthemandeparted.

‘Ididn’tsayI’dbrokenit,didI?’returnedhe.Hethenthrewmykeysintomylap,saying,—‘There!you’llfindnothinggonebutyourmoney,andthejewels,andafewlittle triflesI thought itadvisable to takeintomyownpossession,lestyourmercantilespiritshouldbetemptedtoturnthemintogold.I’veleftyou a few sovereigns in your purse,which I expect to last you through themonth;atallevents,whenyouwantmoreyouwillbesogoodastogivemean account of how that’s spent. I shall put you upon a small monthlyallowance,infuture,foryourownprivateexpenses;andyouneedn’t troubleyourselfanymoreaboutmyconcerns;Ishalllookoutforasteward,mydear—Iwon’t expose you to the temptation. And as for the householdmatters,Mrs. Greavesmust be very particular in keeping her accounts; wemust gouponanentirelynewplan—’

‘What great discovery have you made now, Mr. Huntingdon? Have Iattemptedtodefraudyou?’

‘Notinmoneymatters,exactly,itseems;butit’sbesttokeepoutofthewayoftemptation.’

HereBensonenteredwith thecandles,and there followedabrief intervalofsilence; I sitting still inmy chair, and he standingwith his back to the fire,silentlytriumphinginmydespair.

‘Andso,’saidheatlength,‘youthoughttodisgraceme,didyou,byrunningawayandturningartist,andsupportingyourselfbythelabourofyourhands,forsooth?Andyouthoughttorobmeofmyson,too,andbringhimuptobeadirtyYankeetradesman,oralow,beggarlypainter?’

‘Yes,toobviatehisbecomingsuchagentlemanashisfather.’

‘It’swellyoucouldn’tkeepyourownsecret—ha,ha!It’swellthesewomenmustbeblabbing.Iftheyhaven’tafriendtotalkto,theymustwhispertheirsecrets to the fishes, orwrite themon the sand, or something; and it’swell,too, I wasn’t over full to-night, now I think of it, or Imight have snoozedawayandneverdreamtoflookingwhatmysweetladywasabout;orImighthave lacked the senseor thepower to carrymypoint like aman, as I havedone.’

Leavinghimtohisself-congratulations,Irosetosecuremymanuscript,forInow remembered it had been left upon the drawing-room table, and Idetermined,ifpossible,tosavemyselfthehumiliationofseeingitinhishandsagain. I could not bear the idea of his amusing himself over my secretthoughts and recollections; though, to be sure, hewould find little good ofhimselfthereinindited,exceptintheformerpart;andoh,IwouldsoonerburnitallthanheshouldreadwhatIhadwrittenwhenIwassuchafoolastolovehim!

‘Andby-the-by,’criedhe,asIwasleavingtheroom,‘you’dbettertellthatd—doldsneakofanursetokeepoutofmywayforadayortwo;I’dpayherherwagesand sendherpacking to-morrow,but Iknowshe’ddomoremischiefoutofthehousethaninit.’

And as I departed, he went on cursing and abusing my faithful friend andservantwithepithetsIwillnotdefilethispaperwithrepeating.Iwenttoheras soon as I had put away my book, and told her how our project wasdefeated. Shewas asmuchdistressed andhorrified as Iwas—andmore sothanIwasthatnight,forIwaspartlystunnedbytheblow,andpartlyexcitedandsupportedagainst itby thebitternessofmywrath. But in themorning,whenIwokewithoutthatcheeringhopethathadbeenmysecretcomfortandsupport so long, and all this day, when I havewandered about restless andobjectless,shunningmyhusband,shrinkingevenfrommychild,knowingthatIamunfit tobehisteacherorcompanion,hopingnothingforhisfuturelife,and ferventlywishing he had never been born,—I felt the full extent ofmycalamity,andIfeelitnow.Iknowthatdayafterdaysuchfeelingswillreturnuponme. I am a slave—a prisoner—but that is nothing; if it weremyselfaloneIwouldnotcomplain,butIamforbiddentorescuemysonfromruin,andwhatwasoncemyonlyconsolationisbecomethecrowningsourceofmydespair.

HaveInofaithinGod?ItrytolooktoHimandraisemyhearttoheaven,butitwill cleave to thedust. I canonly say, ‘Hehathhedgedmeabout, that Icannot get out: He hath made my chain heavy. He hath filled me withbitterness—Hehathmademedrunkenwithwormwood.’Iforgettoadd,‘Butthough He cause grief, yet will He have compassion according to themultitude of His mercies. For He doth not afflict willingly nor grieve thechildrenofmen.’Iought to thinkof this;andif therebenothingbutsorrowformeinthisworld,whatisthelongestlifeofmiserytoawholeeternityofpeace?AndformylittleArthur—hashenofriendbutme?Whowasitsaid,‘ItisnotthewillofyourFatherwhichisinheaventhatoneoftheselittleonesshouldperish?’

CHAPTERXLI

March20th.—HavingnowgotridofMr.Huntingdonforaseason,myspiritsbegintorevive.HeleftmeearlyinFebruary;andthemomenthewasgone,Ibreathedagain,andfeltmyvitalenergyreturn;notwiththehopeofescape—he has taken care to leave me no visible chance of that—but with adetermination tomake the best of existing circumstances. HerewasArthurleft tome at last; and rousing frommydespondent apathy, I exerted allmypowers toeradicate theweeds thathadbeenfostered inhis infantmind,andsowagainthegoodseedtheyhadrenderedunproductive.Thankheaven,itisnotabarrenorastonysoil;ifweedsspringfastthere,sodobetterplants.Hisapprehensionsaremorequick,hisheartmoreoverflowingwithaffectionthanever his father’s couldhavebeen, and it is nohopeless task to bendhim toobedienceandwinhimtoloveandknowhisowntruefriend,aslongasthereisnoonetocounteractmyefforts.

Ihadmuchtroubleatfirstinbreakinghimofthoseevilhabitshisfatherhadtaught him to acquire, but already that difficulty is nearly vanquished now:badlanguageseldomdefileshismouth,andIhavesucceededingivinghimanabsolutedisgustforallintoxicatingliquors,whichIhopenotevenhisfatherorhis father’s friendswill be able to overcome. Hewas inordinately fond ofthemforsoyoungacreature,and,rememberingmyunfortunatefatheraswellashis,Idreadedtheconsequencesofsuchataste.ButifIhadstintedhim,inhisusualquantityofwine,orforbiddenhimtotasteitaltogether, thatwouldonlyhave increasedhispartiality for it, andmadehimregard it asagreatertreat than ever. I therefore gave him quite as much as his father wasaccustomed to allow him; asmuch, indeed, as he desired to have—but intoeveryglass Isurreptitiously introducedasmallquantityof tartar-emetic, justenough to produce inevitable nausea and depression without positivesickness. Finding such disagreeable consequences invariably to result fromthis indulgence, he soongrewwearyof it, but themorehe shrank from thedailytreatthemoreIpressedituponhim,tillhisreluctancewasstrengthenedtoperfectabhorrence.Whenhewasthoroughlydisgustedwitheverykindofwine,Iallowedhim,athisownrequest,totrybrandy-and-water,andthengin-and-water,forthelittletoperwasfamiliarwiththemall,andIwasdeterminedthatallshouldbeequallyhatefultohim.ThisIhavenoweffected;andsincehedeclaresthatthetaste,thesmell,thesightofanyoneofthemissufficienttomakehimsick,Ihavegivenupteasinghimaboutthem,exceptnowandthenasobjectsofterrorincasesofmisbehaviour.‘Arthur,ifyou’renotagoodboyIshallgiveyouaglassofwine,’or ‘Now,Arthur, ifyousay thatagainyoushallhavesomebrandy-and-water,’isasgoodasanyotherthreat;andonceortwice, when he was sick, I have obliged the poor child to swallow a little

wine-and-water without the tartar-emetic, by way of medicine; and thispracticeIintendtocontinueforsometimetocome;notthatIthinkitofanyrealserviceinaphysicalsense,butbecauseIamdeterminedtoenlistallthepowers of association in my service; I wish this aversion to be so deeplygroundedinhisnaturethatnothinginafter-lifemaybeabletoovercomeit.

Thus,Iflattermyself,Ishallsecurehimfromthisonevice;andfortherest,ifonhisfather’sreturnIfindreasontoapprehendthatmygoodlessonswillbealldestroyed—ifMr.Huntingdoncommenceagain thegameof teaching thechild tohateanddespisehismother,andemulatehisfather’swickedness—Iwillyetdelivermysonfromhishands. Ihavedevisedanotherschemethatmight be resorted to in such a case; and if I could but obtainmy brother’sconsentandassistance,Ishouldnotdoubtofitssuccess.TheoldhallwhereheandIwereborn,andwhereourmotherdied,isnotnowinhabited,noryetquitesunkintodecay,asIbelieve.Now,ifIcouldpersuadehimtohaveoneortworoomsmadehabitable,andtoletthemtomeasastranger,Imightlivethere,withmychild,underanassumedname,andstillsupportmyselfbymyfavouriteart. Heshould lendmethemoneytobeginwith,andIwouldpayhimback,and live in lowly independenceandstrict seclusion, for thehousestands in a lonely place, and the neighbourhood is thinly inhabited, and hehimselfshouldnegotiatethesaleofmypicturesforme.Ihavearrangedthewholeplan inmyhead: andall Iwant is topersuadeFrederick tobeof thesamemindasmyself.Heiscomingtoseemesoon,andthenIwillmaketheproposal to him, having first enlightened him upon my circumstancessufficientlytoexcusetheproject.

Already,Ibelieve,heknowsmuchmoreofmysituationthanIhavetoldhim.Icantellthisbytheairoftendersadnesspervadinghisletters;andbythefactof his so seldommentioningmy husband, and generally evincing a kind ofcovertbitternesswhenhedoesrefertohim;aswellasbythecircumstanceofhis never coming to seemewhenMr.Huntingdon is at home. But he hasneveropenlyexpressedanydisapprobationofhimorsympathyforme;hehasneveraskedanyquestions,orsaidanythingtoinvitemyconfidence.Hadhedoneso,Ishouldprobablyhavehadbutfewconcealmentsfromhim.Perhapshefeelshurtatmyreserve.Heisastrangebeing;Iwishwekneweachotherbetter. He used to spend a month at Staningley every year, before I wasmarried; but, since our father’s death, I have only seen him once, when hecame for a fewdayswhileMr.Huntingdonwas away. He shall staymanydaysthistime,andthereshallbemorecandourandcordialitybetweenusthanevertherewasbefore,sinceourearlychildhood.Myheartclingstohimmorethanever;andmysoulissickofsolitude.

April16th.—Heiscomeandgone.Hewouldnotstayaboveafortnight.Thetimepassedquickly,butvery,veryhappily,andithasdonemegood.Imust

have a bad disposition, formymisfortunes have soured and embitteredmeexceedingly: I was beginning insensibly to cherish very unamiable feelingsagainstmyfellow-mortals,themalepartofthemespecially;butitisacomforttoseethereisatleastoneamongthemworthytobetrustedandesteemed;anddoubtless there aremore, though I have never known them, unless I exceptpoorLordLowborough,andhewasbadenoughinhisday.ButwhatwouldFrederick have been, if he had lived in the world, and mingled from hischildhoodwithsuchmenastheseofmyacquaintance?andwhatwillArthurbe,withallhisnaturalsweetnessofdisposition,ifIdonotsavehimfromthatworld and those companions? I mentioned my fears to Frederick, andintroduced the subjectofmyplanof rescueon the eveningafterhis arrival,whenIpresentedmylittlesontohisuncle.

‘Heislikeyou,Frederick,’saidI,‘insomeofhismoods:Isometimesthinkheresemblesyoumorethanhisfather;andIamgladofit.’

‘Youflatterme,Helen,’repliedhe,strokingthechild’ssoft,wavylocks.

‘No,youwillthinkitnocomplimentwhenItellyouIwouldratherhavehimto resembleBenson thanhis father.’ He slightly elevatedhis eyebrows, butsaidnothing.

‘DoyouknowwhatsortofmanMr.Huntingdonis?’saidI.

‘IthinkIhaveanidea.’

‘Haveyousoclearanideathatyoucanhear,withoutsurpriseordisapproval,thatImeditateescapingwiththatchildtosomesecretasylum,wherewecanliveinpeace,andneverseehimagain?’

‘Isitreallyso?’

‘Ifyouhavenot,’continuedI,‘I’lltellyousomethingmoreabouthim’;andIgave a sketch of his general conduct, and a more particular account of hisbehaviour with regard to his child, and explainedmy apprehensions on thelatter’s account, and my determination to deliver him from his father’sinfluence.

FrederickwasexceedinglyindignantagainstMr.Huntingdon,andverymuchgrievedforme;butstillhelookeduponmyprojectaswildandimpracticable.He deemed my fears for Arthur disproportioned to the circumstances, andopposedsomanyobjectionstomyplan,anddevisedsomanymildermethodsforamelioratingmycondition,thatIwasobligedtoenterintofurtherdetailstoconvincehimthatmyhusbandwasutterlyincorrigible,andthatnothingcouldpersuadehim togiveuphis son,whatever becameofme, hebeing as fullydeterminedthechildshouldnotleavehim,asIwasnottoleavethechild;andthat,infact,nothingwouldanswerbutthis,unlessIfledthecountry,asIhad

intendedbefore.Toobviatethat,heatlengthconsentedtohaveonewingoftheoldhallputintoahabitablecondition,asaplaceofrefugeagainstatimeof need; but hoped I would not take advantage of it unless circumstancesshould render it really necessary,which Iwas ready enough to promise: forthough, for my own sake, such a hermitage appears like paradise itself,comparedwithmy present situation, yet formy friends’ sakes, forMilicentandEsther,mysistersinheartandaffection,forthepoortenantsofGrassdale,and,aboveall,formyaunt,IwillstayifIpossiblycan.

July 29th.—Mrs. Hargrave and her daughter are come back from London.Esther is full of her first season in town; but she is still heart-whole andunengaged. Her mother sought out an excellent match for her, and evenbroughtthegentlemantolayhisheartandfortuneatherfeet;butEstherhadtheaudacitytorefusethenoblegifts.Hewasamanofgoodfamilyandlargepossessions,butthenaughtygirlmaintainedhewasoldasAdam,uglyassin,andhatefulas—onewhoshallbenameless.

‘But, indeed, I had a hard time of it,’ said she: ‘mamma was very greatlydisappointedat thefailureofherdarlingproject,andvery,veryangryatmyobstinateresistancetoherwill,andissostill;butIcan’thelpit.AndWalter,too,issoseriouslydispleasedatmyperversityandabsurdcaprice,ashecallsit,thatIfearhewillneverforgiveme—Ididnotthinkhecouldbesounkindashehaslatelyshownhimself.ButMilicentbeggedmenottoyield,andI’msure,Mrs.Huntingdon,ifyouhadseenthemantheywantedtopalmuponme,youwouldhaveadvisedmenottotakehimtoo.’

‘IshouldhavedonesowhetherIhadseenhimornot,’saidI;‘itisenoughthatyoudislikehim.’

‘I knew you would say so; though mamma affirmed you would be quiteshockedatmyundutifulconduct. Youcan’t imaginehowshelecturesme:Iam disobedient and ungrateful; I am thwarting her wishes, wronging mybrother, andmakingmyself a burdenonher hands. I sometimes fear she’llovercomemeafterall.Ihaveastrongwill,butsohasshe,andwhenshesayssuchbitterthings,itprovokesmetosuchapassthatIfeelinclinedtodoasshebids me, and then break my heart and say, “There, mamma, it’s all yourfault!”’

‘Pray don’t!’ said I. ‘Obedience from such a motive would be positivewickedness,andcertaintobringthepunishmentitdeserves.Standfirm,andyourmammawillsoonrelinquishherpersecution;andthegentlemanhimselfwillceasetopesteryouwithhisaddressesifhefindsthemsteadilyrejected.’

‘Oh, no!mammawill weary all about her before she tires herself with herexertions;andasforMr.Oldfield,shehasgivenhimtounderstandthatIhave

refusedhisoffer,notfromanydislikeofhisperson,butmerelybecauseIamgiddy and young, and cannot at present reconcilemyself to the thoughts ofmarriage under any circumstances: but by next season, she has no doubt, Ishallhavemoresense,andhopesmygirlish fancieswillbewornaway. Soshehasbroughtmehome,toschoolmeintoapropersenseofmyduty,againstthetimecomesroundagain.Indeed,Ibelieveshewillnotputherselftotheexpense of taking me up to London again, unless I surrender: she cannotafford to takeme to town for pleasure andnonsense, she says, and it is noteveryrichgentlemanthatwillconsenttotakemewithoutafortune,whateverexaltedideasImayhaveofmyownattractions.’

‘Well,Esther,Ipityyou;butstill,Irepeat,standfirm.Youmightaswellsellyourself toslaveryatonce,asmarryamanyoudislike. Ifyourmotherandbrotherareunkindtoyou,youmayleavethem,butrememberyouareboundtoyourhusbandforlife.’

‘But I cannot leave them unless I get married, and I cannot get married ifnobody seesme. I sawoneor twogentlemen inLondon that Imight haveliked,buttheywereyoungersons,andmammawouldnotletmegettoknowthem—one especially, who I believe rather liked me—but she threw everypossibleobstacleinthewayofourbetteracquaintance.Wasn’titprovoking?’

‘Ihavenodoubtyouwouldfeelitso,butitispossiblethatifyoumarriedhim,you might have more reason to regret it hereafter than if you marriedMr.Oldfield. WhenI tellyounot tomarrywithout love, Idonotadviseyou tomarry for love alone: there aremany,many other things to be considered.Keepbothheartandhandinyourownpossession,tillyouseegoodreasontopartwith them; and if such anoccasion shouldneverpresent itself, comfortyourmindwiththisreflection,thatthoughinsinglelifeyourjoysmaynotbevery many, your sorrows, at least, will not be more than you can bear.Marriage may change your circumstances for the better, but, in my privateopinion,itisfarmorelikelytoproduceacontraryresult.’

‘SothinksMilicent;butallowmetosayIthinkotherwise.IfIthoughtmyselfdoomedtoold-maidenhood,Ishouldceasetovaluemylife.Thethoughtsoflivingon,yearafteryear,attheGrove—ahanger-onuponmammaandWalter,amere cumberer of the ground (now that I know inwhat light theywouldregardit),isperfectlyintolerable;Iwouldratherrunawaywiththebutler.’

‘Yourcircumstancesarepeculiar,Iallow;buthavepatience,love;donothingrashly. Rememberyouarenotyetnineteen,andmanyyearsareyet topassbefore any one can set you down as an old maid: you cannot tell whatProvidencemayhaveinstoreforyou.Andmeantime,rememberyouhavearighttotheprotectionandsupportofyourmotherandbrother,howevertheymayseemtogrudgeit.’

‘You are so grave, Mrs. Huntingdon,’ said Esther, after a pause. ‘WhenMilicent uttered the same discouraging sentiments concerning marriage, Iasked if shewashappy: she said shewas; but I only half believedher; andnowImustputthesamequestiontoyou.’

‘Itisaveryimpertinentquestion,’laughedI,‘fromayounggirltoamarriedwomansomanyyearshersenior,andIshallnotanswerit.’

‘Pardonme,dearmadam,’saidshe,laughinglythrowingherselfintomyarms,and kissingmewith playful affection; but I felt a tear onmy neck, as shedroppedherheadonmybosomandcontinued,withanoddmixtureofsadnessandlevity,timidityandaudacity,—‘IknowyouarenotsohappyasImeantobe,foryouspendhalfyourlifealoneatGrassdale,whileMr.Huntingdongoesaboutenjoyinghimselfwhereandhowhepleases.Ishallexpectmyhusbandtohavenopleasuresbutwhatheshareswithme;andifhisgreatestpleasureofall is not the enjoyment ofmy company,why, itwill be theworse for him,that’sall.’

‘If such are your expectations of matrimony, Esther, you must, indeed, becarefulwhomyoumarry—orrather,youmustavoiditaltogether.’

CHAPTERXLII

September 1st.—NoMr. Huntingdon yet. Perhaps he will stay among hisfriends till Christmas; and then, next spring, he will be off again. If hecontinuethisplan,IshallbeabletostayatGrassdalewellenough—thatis,Ishallbeabletostay,andthatisenough;evenanoccasionalbevyoffriendsattheshootingseasonmaybeborne,ifArthurgetsofirmlyattachedtome,sowellestablishedingoodsenseandprinciplesbeforetheycomethatIshallbeable, by reason and affection, to keep him pure from their contaminations.Vainhope,Ifear!butstill,tillsuchatimeoftrialcomesIwillforbeartothinkofmyquietasyluminthebelovedoldhall.

Mr.andMrs.HattersleyhavebeenstayingattheGroveafortnight:andasMr.Hargraveisstillabsent,andtheweatherwasremarkablyfine,Ineverpassedadaywithoutseeingmytwofriends,MilicentandEsther,eitherthereorhere.Ononeoccasion,whenMr.Hattersleyhaddriven themover toGrassdale inthephaeton,withlittleHelenandRalph,andwewereallenjoyingourselvesinthegarden—Ihadafewminutes’conversationwiththatgentleman,whiletheladieswereamusingthemselveswiththechildren.

‘Doyouwanttohearanythingofyourhusband,Mrs.Huntingdon?’saidhe.

‘No,unlessyoucantellmewhentoexpecthimhome.’

‘Ican’t.—Youdon’twanthim,doyou?’saidhe,withabroadgrin.

‘No.’

‘Well, I think you’re better without him, sure enough—for my part, I’mdownright weary of him. I told him I’d leave him if he didn’t mend hismanners,andhewouldn’t;soIlefthim.Yousee,I’mabettermanthanyouthinkme;and,what’smore,Ihaveseriousthoughtsofwashingmyhandsofhimentirely,andthewholesetof’em,andcomportingmyselffromthisdayforwardwithalldecencyandsobriety,asaChristianandthefatherofafamilyshoulddo.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?’

‘Itisaresolutionyououghttohaveformedlongago.’

‘Well,I’mnotthirtyyet;itisn’ttoolate,isit?’

‘No;itisnevertoolatetoreform,aslongasyouhavethesensetodesireit,andthestrengthtoexecuteyourpurpose.’

‘Well,totellyouthetruth,I’vethoughtofitoftenandoftenbefore;buthe’ssuchdevilishgoodcompany,isHuntingdon,afterall.Youcan’timaginewhatajovialgoodfellowheiswhenhe’snotfairlydrunk,onlyjustprimedorhalf-seas-over. Weallhaveabitofa likingforhimat thebottomofourhearts,thoughwecan’trespecthim.’

‘Butshouldyouwishyourselftobelikehim?’

‘No,I’dratherbelikemyself,badasIam.’

‘You can’t continue as bad as you are without getting worse and morebrutalisedeveryday,andthereforemorelikehim.’

I couldnothelp smilingat thecomical,half-angry,half-confounded lookheputonatthisratherunusualmodeofaddress.

‘Nevermindmyplainspeaking,’saidI; ‘it is fromthebestofmotives. Buttellme,shouldyouwishyoursons tobe likeMr.Huntingdon—oreven likeyourself?’

‘Hangit!no.’

‘Shouldyouwishyourdaughtertodespiseyou—or,atleast,tofeelnovestigeof respect for you, and no affection but what is mingled with the bitterestregret?’

‘Oh,no!Icouldn’tstandthat.’

‘And, finally, should youwish yourwife to be ready to sink into the earth

when shehearsyoumentioned; and to loathe thevery soundof yourvoice,andshudderatyourapproach?’

‘Sheneverwill;shelikesmeallthesame,whateverIdo.’

‘Impossible,Mr.Hattersley!youmistakeherquietsubmissionforaffection.’

‘Fireandfury—’

‘Nowdon’tburstintoatempestatthat.Idon’tmeantosayshedoesnotloveyou—shedoes, I know, agreatdealbetter thanyoudeserve;but I amquitesure, that if you behave better, she will love you more, and if you behaveworse, she will love you less and less, till all is lost in fear, aversion, andbitterness of soul, if not in secret hatred and contempt. But, dropping thesubjectofaffection,shouldyouwishtobethetyrantofherlife—totakeawayallthesunshinefromherexistence,andmakeherthoroughlymiserable?’

‘Ofcoursenot;andIdon’t,andI’mnotgoingto.’

‘Youhavedonemoretowardsitthanyousuppose.’

‘Pooh, pooh! she’s not the susceptible, anxious, worriting creature youimagine: she’s a little meek, peaceable, affectionate body; apt to be rathersulkyattimes,butquietandcoolinthemain,andreadytotakethingsastheycome.’

‘Thinkofwhatshewasfiveyearsago,whenyoumarriedher,andwhatsheisnow.’

‘Iknowshewasalittleplumplassiethen,withaprettypinkandwhiteface:nowshe’sapoorlittlebitofacreature,fadingandmeltingawaylikeasnow-wreath.Buthangit!—that’snotmyfault.’

‘Whatisthecauseofitthen?Notyears,forshe’sonlyfive-and-twenty.’

‘It’sherowndelicatehealth,andconfoundit,madam!whatwouldyoumakeofme?—andthechildren,tobesure,thatworryhertodeathbetweenthem.’

‘No,Mr.Hattersley, the childrengivehermorepleasure thanpain: they arefine,well-dispositionedchildren—’

‘Iknowtheyare—blessthem!’

‘Thenwhylaytheblameonthem?—I’lltellyouwhatitis:it’ssilentfrettingandconstantanxietyonyouraccount,mingled, Isuspect,withsomethingofbodily fear on her own. When you behavewell, she can only rejoicewithtrembling;shehasnosecurity,noconfidenceinyourjudgmentorprinciples;but is continually dreading the close of such short-lived felicity; when youbehaveill,hercausesofterrorandmiseryaremorethananyonecantellbut

herself.Inpatientenduranceofevil,sheforgetsitisourdutytoadmonishourneighbours of their transgressions. Since you will mistake her silence forindifference,comewithme,andI’llshowyouoneor twoofher letters—nobreachofconfidence,Ihope,sinceyouareherotherhalf.’

Hefollowedme into the library. I soughtoutandput intohishands twoofMilicent’s letters: one dated from London, and written during one of hiswildestseasonsofrecklessdissipation;theotherinthecountry,duringalucidinterval. The formerwas fullof troubleandanguish;notaccusinghim,butdeeplyregrettinghisconnectionwithhisprofligatecompanions,abusingMr.Grimsby and others, insinuating bitter things against Mr. Huntingdon, andmostingeniouslythrowingtheblameofherhusband’smisconductontoothermen’s shoulders. The latterwas full of hope and joy, yetwith a tremblingconsciousnessthatthishappinesswouldnotlast;praisinghisgoodnesstotheskies,butwithanevident,thoughbuthalf-expressedwish,thatitwerebasedon a surer foundation than the natural impulses of the heart, and a half-propheticdreadofthefallofthathousesofoundedonthesand,—whichfallhadshortlyaftertakenplace,asHattersleymusthavebeenconsciouswhileheread.

AlmostatthecommencementofthefirstletterIhadtheunexpectedpleasureofseeinghimblush;butheimmediately turnedhisbacktome,andfinishedtheperusalatthewindow.Atthesecond,Isawhim,onceortwice,raisehishand,andhurriedlypassitacrosshisface.Coulditbetodashawayatear?When he had done, there was an interval spent in clearing his throat andstaringoutofthewindow,andthen,afterwhistlingafewbarsofafavouriteair,he turned round,gavemeback the letters, and silently shookmeby thehand.

‘I’vebeenacursedrascal,Godknows,’saidhe,ashegaveitaheartysqueeze,‘butyouseeifIdon’tmakeamendsforit—d—nmeifIdon’t!’

‘Don’tcurseyourself,Mr.Hattersley;ifGodhadheardhalfyourinvocationsof thatkind,youwouldhavebeen inhell longbeforenow—andyoucannotmakeamendsforthepastbydoingyourdutyforthefuture,inasmuchasyourdutyisonlywhatyouowetoyourMaker,andyoucannotdomorethanfulfilit: anothermustmakeamends foryourpastdelinquencies. If you intend toreform,invokeGod’sblessing,Hismercy,andHisaid;notHiscurse.’

‘Godhelpme,then—forI’msureIneedit.Where’sMilicent?’

‘She’sthere,justcominginwithhersister.’

Hesteppedoutattheglassdoor,andwenttomeetthem.Ifollowedatalittledistance. Somewhat to his wife’s astonishment, he lifted her off from theground,andsalutedherwithaheartykissandastrongembrace;thenplacing

histwohandsonhershoulders,hegaveher,Isuppose,asketchofthegreatthingshemeanttodo,forshesuddenlythrewherarmsroundhim,andburstinto tears, exclaiming,—‘Do, do,Ralph—we shall be so happy! Howvery,verygoodyouare!’

‘Nay,notI,’saidhe,turningherround,andpushinghertowardsme.‘Thankher;it’sherdoing.’

Milicentflewtothankme,overflowingwithgratitude.Idisclaimedalltitletoit, tellingherherhusbandwaspredisposedtoamendmentbeforeIaddedmymite of exhortation and encouragement, and that I had only donewhat shemight,andoughttohavedoneherself.

‘Oh,no!’criedshe;‘Icouldn’thaveinfluencedhim,I’msure,byanythingthatIcouldhavesaid. Ishouldonlyhavebotheredhimbymyclumsyeffortsatpersuasion,ifIhadmadetheattempt.’

‘Younevertriedme,Milly,’saidhe.

Shortly after they took their leave. They are now gone on a visit toHattersley’sfather. Afterthattheywillrepairtotheircountryhome.Ihopehisgoodresolutionswillnotfallthrough,andpoorMilicentwillnotbeagaindisappointed. Her last letter was full of present bliss, and pleasinganticipations for the future; but no particular temptation has yet occurred toput his virtue to the test. Henceforth, however, she will doubtless besomewhatlesstimidandreserved,andhemorekindandthoughtful.—Surely,then, her hopes are not unfounded; and I have one bright spot, at least,whereontorestmythoughts.

CHAPTERXLIII

October 10th.—Mr. Huntingdon returned about three weeks ago. Hisappearance,hisdemeanourandconversation,andmyfeelingswithregard tohim,Ishallnottroublemyselftodescribe.Thedayafterhisarrival,however,hesurprisedmebytheannouncementofanintentiontoprocureagovernessforlittleArthur:Itoldhimitwasquiteunnecessary,nottosayridiculous,atthepresentseason:IthoughtIwasfullycompetenttothetaskofteachinghimmyself—forsomeyears tocome,at least: thechild’seducationwastheonlypleasureandbusinessofmylife;andsincehehaddeprivedmeofeveryotheroccupation,hemightsurelyleavemethat.

He said I was not fit to teach children, or to be with them: I had alreadyreducedtheboytolittlebetterthananautomaton;Ihadbrokenhisfinespirit

withmy rigid severity;and I should freezeall the sunshineoutofhisheart,andmakehimasgloomyanascetic asmyself, if I had thehandlingofhimmuchlonger.AndpoorRachel,too,cameinforhershareofabuse,asusual;hecannotendureRachel,becauseheknowsshehasaproperappreciationofhim.

Icalmlydefendedourseveralqualificationsasnurseandgoverness,andstillresistedtheproposedadditiontoourfamily;buthecutmeshortbysayingitwas no use bothering about the matter, for he had engaged a governessalready, and shewas coming next week; so that all I had to dowas to getthings ready for her reception. This was a rather startling piece ofintelligence. I ventured to inquirehernameandaddress, bywhomshehadbeenrecommended,orhowhehadbeenledtomakechoiceofher.

‘Sheisaveryestimable,piousyoungperson,’saidhe;‘youneedn’tbeafraid.Her name is Myers, I believe; and she was recommended to me by arespectableolddowager:aladyofhighreputeinthereligiousworld.Ihavenotseenhermyself,andthereforecannotgiveyouaparticularaccountofherperson and conversation, and so forth; but, if the old lady’s eulogies arecorrect, you will find her to possess all desirable qualifications for herposition:aninordinateloveofchildrenamongtherest.’

Allthiswasgravelyandquietlyspoken,buttherewasalaughingdemoninhishalf-avertedeye thatbodednogood, I imagined. However, I thoughtofmyasylumin—shire,andmadenofurtherobjections.

When Miss Myers arrived, I was not prepared to give her a very cordialreception. Her appearance was not particularly calculated to produce afavourable impression at first sight, nor did her manners and subsequentconduct,inanydegree,removetheprejudiceIhadalreadyconceivedagainsther.Herattainmentswerelimited,herintellectnowaysabovemediocrity.Shehad a fine voice, and could sing like a nightingale, and accompany herselfsufficiently well on the piano; but these were her only accomplishments.Therewasalookofguileandsubtletyinherface,asoundofitinhervoice.Sheseemedafraidofme,andwouldstartifIsuddenlyapproachedher.Inherbehaviourshewasrespectfulandcomplaisant,eventoservility:sheattemptedtoflatterandfawnuponmeatfirst,butIsooncheckedthat.Herfondnessforherlittlepupilwasoverstrained,andIwasobligedtoremonstratewithheronthesubjectofover-indulgenceand injudiciouspraise;butshecouldnotgainhisheart.Herpietyconsistedinanoccasionalheavingofsighs,andupliftingofeyestotheceiling,andtheutteranceofafewcantphrases.Shetoldmeshewasaclergyman’sdaughter,andhadbeenleftanorphanfromherchildhood,buthadhadthegoodfortunetoobtainasituationinaverypiousfamily;andthen she spoke so gratefully of the kindness she had experienced from its

differentmembers,thatIreproachedmyselfformyuncharitablethoughtsandunfriendly conduct, and relented for a time, but not for long:my causes ofdislikeweretoorational,mysuspicionstoowellfoundedforthat;andIknewit was my duty to watch and scrutinize till those suspicions were eithersatisfactorilyremovedorconfirmed.

Iaskedthenameandresidenceofthekindandpiousfamily.Shementionedacommonname,andanunknownanddistantplaceofabode,buttoldmetheywerenowontheContinent,andtheirpresentaddresswasunknowntoher.IneversawherspeakmuchtoMr.Huntingdon;buthewouldfrequently lookintotheschool-roomtoseehowlittleArthurgotonwithhisnewcompanion,whenIwasnotthere.Intheevening,shesatwithusinthedrawing-room,andwould sing and play to amuse him or us, as she pretended, and was veryattentivetohiswants,andwatchfultoanticipatethem,thoughsheonlytalkedtome; indeed, hewas seldom in a condition tobe talked to. Had shebeenother than she was, I should have felt her presence a great relief to comebetweenusthus,except,indeed,thatIshouldhavebeenthoroughlyashamedforanydecentpersontoseehimasheoftenwas.

IdidnotmentionmysuspicionstoRachel;butshe,havingsojournedforhalfacenturyinthislandofsinandsorrow,haslearnedtobesuspiciousherself.Shetoldmefromthefirstshewas‘downofthatnewgoverness,’andIsoonfoundshewatchedherquiteasnarrowlyas Idid;andIwasgladof it, for Ilonged to know the truth: the atmosphere ofGrassdale seemed to stifleme,andIcouldonlylivebythinkingofWildfellHall.

Atlast,onemorning,sheenteredmychamberwithsuchintelligencethatmyresolutionwastakenbeforeshehadceasedtospeak.WhileshedressedmeIexplainedtohermyintentionsandwhatassistanceIshouldrequirefromher,andtoldherwhichofmythingsshewastopackup,andwhatshewastoleavebehind for herself, as I had no other means of recompensing her for thissudden dismissal after her long and faithful service: a circumstance I mostdeeplyregretted,butcouldnotavoid.

‘Andwhatwillyoudo,Rachel?’ said I; ‘willyougohome,or seekanotherplace?’

‘Ihavenohome,ma’am,butwithyou,’ she replied; ‘and if I leaveyou I’llnevergointoplaceagainaslongasIlive.’

‘ButIcan’taffordtolivelikealadynow,’returnedI:‘Imustbemyownmaidandmychild’snurse.’

‘Whatsignifies!’repliedshe,insomeexcitement.‘You’llwantsomebodytocleanandwash,andcook,won’tyou?Icandoall that;andnevermindthewages:I’vemybitso’savingsyet,andifyouwouldn’ttakemeIshouldhave

tofindmyownboardandlodgingoutof’emsomewhere,orelseworkamongstrangers:andit’swhatI’mnotusedto:soyoucanpleaseyourself,ma’am.’Hervoicequaveredasshespoke,andthetearsstoodinhereyes.

‘I should like it above all things,Rachel, and I’d give you suchwages as Icouldafford:suchasIshouldgivetoanyservant-of-all-workImightemploy:but don’t you see I should be dragging you downwithmewhen you havedonenothingtodeserveit?’

‘Oh,fiddle!’ejaculatedshe.

‘And,besides,myfuturewayoflivingwillbesowidelydifferenttothepast:sodifferenttoallyouhavebeenaccustomedto—’

‘Do you think,ma’am, I can’t bearwhatmymissis can? surely I’m not soproud and so dainty as that comes to; andmy little master, too, God blesshim!’

‘ButI’myoung,Rachel;Isha’n’tmindit;andArthurisyoungtoo:itwillbenothingtohim.’

‘Normeeither:I’mnotsooldbutwhatIcanstandhardfareandhardwork,ifit’sonlytohelpandcomfortthemasI’velovedlikemyownbairns:forallI’mtooold tobide the thoughtso’ leaving’emin troubleanddanger,andgoingamongststrangersmyself.’

‘Thenyousha’n’t,Rachel!’criedI,embracingmyfaithful friend. ‘We’llallgotogether,andyoushallseehowthenewlifesuitsyou.’

‘Blessyou,honey!’criedshe,affectionatelyreturningmyembrace.‘Onlyletusgetshutofthiswickedhouse,andwe’lldorightenough,you’llsee.’

‘SothinkI,’wasmyanswer;andsothatpointwassettled.

Bythatmorning’spostIdespatchedafewhastylinestoFrederick,beseechinghimtopreparemyasylumformyimmediatereception:forIshouldprobablycometoclaimitwithinadayafterthereceiptofthatnote:andtellinghim,infewwords, the causeofmy sudden resolution. I thenwrote three lettersofadieu: the first to Esther Hargrave, in which I told her that I found itimpossible to stay any longer at Grassdale, or to leave my son under hisfather’sprotection;and,asitwasofthelastimportancethatourfutureabodeshouldbeunknowntohimandhisacquaintance,Ishoulddiscloseittonoonebutmybrother,throughthemediumofwhomIhopedstilltocorrespondwithmy friends. I then gave her his address, exhorted her to write frequently,reiterated some ofmy former admonitions regarding her own concerns, andbadeherafondfarewell.

The second was to Milicent; much to the same effect, but a little more

confidential, as befitted our longer intimacy, and her greater experience andbetteracquaintancewithmycircumstances.

Thethirdwastomyaunt:amuchmoredifficultandpainfulundertaking,andthereforeIhadleftittothelast;butImustgivehersomeexplanationofthatextraordinarystepIhadtaken:andthatquickly,forsheandmyunclewouldno doubt hear of it within a day or two after my disappearance, as it wasprobablethatMr.Huntingdonwouldspeedilyapplytothemtoknowwhatwasbecomeofme.Atlast,however,ItoldherIwassensibleofmyerror:Ididnotcomplainofitspunishment,andIwassorrytotroublemyfriendswithitsconsequences;butindutytomysonImustsubmitnolonger;itwasabsolutelynecessarythatheshouldbedeliveredfromhisfather’scorruptinginfluence.Ishouldnotdisclosemyplaceofrefugeeventoher, inorderthatsheandmyunclemightbeable,withtruth,todenyallknowledgeconcerningit;butanycommunicationsaddressedtomeundercovertomybrotherwouldbecertaintoreachme.IhopedsheandmyunclewouldpardonthestepIhadtaken,foriftheyknewall,Iwassuretheywouldnotblameme;andItrustedtheywouldnotafflict themselvesonmyaccount, for if Icouldonly reachmyretreat insafetyandkeepitunmolested,Ishouldbeveryhappy,butforthethoughtsofthem; and shouldbequite contented to spendmy life inobscurity, devotingmyselftothetrainingupofmychild,andteachinghimtoavoidtheerrorsofbothhisparents.

These things were done yesterday: I have given two whole days to thepreparation forourdeparture, thatFrederickmayhavemore time topreparetherooms,andRacheltopackupthethings:forthelattertaskmustbedonewiththeutmostcautionandsecrecy,andthereisnoonebutmetoassisther.Icanhelptogetthearticlestogether,butIdonotunderstandtheartofstowingthemintotheboxes,soastotakeupthesmallestpossiblespace;andthereareherownthingstodo,aswellasmineandArthur’s. Icanillaffordtoleaveanythingbehind, since I havenomoney, except a fewguineas inmypurse;andbesides,asRachelobserved,whateverIleftwouldmostlikelybecomethepropertyofMissMyers,andIshouldnotrelishthat.

Butwhat troubleIhavehadthroughout these twodays,struggling toappearcalmandcollected,tomeethimandherasusual,whenIwasobligedtomeetthem, and forcing myself to leave my little Arthur in her hands for hourstogether!ButItrustthesetrialsareovernow:Ihavelaidhiminmybedforbetter security, and nevermore, I trust, shall his innocent lips be defiled bytheir contaminating kisses, or his young ears polluted by their words. Butshallweescapeinsafety?Oh,thatthemorningwerecome,andwewereonourwayatleast! Thisevening,whenIhadgivenRachelall theassistanceIcould,andhadnothingleftmebuttowait,andwishandtremble,IbecamesogreatlyagitatedthatIknewnotwhattodo.Iwentdowntodinner,butIcould

notforcemyselftoeat.Mr.Huntingdonremarkedthecircumstance.

‘What’stodowithyounow?’saidhe,whentheremovalofthesecondcoursegavehimtimetolookabouthim.

‘Iamnotwell,’Ireplied:‘IthinkImustliedownalittle;youwon’tmissmemuch?’

‘Nottheleast:ifyouleaveyourchair,it’lldojustaswell—better,atrifle,’hemuttered,asIlefttheroom,‘forIcanfancysomebodyelsefillsit.’

‘Somebody elsemay fill it to-morrow,’ I thought, but did not say. ‘There!I’veseenthelastofyou,Ihope,’Imuttered,asIclosedthedooruponhim.

Rachelurgedmetoseekreposeatonce,torecruitmystrengthforto-morrow’sjourney, as we must be gone before the dawn; but in my present state ofnervousexcitementthatwasentirelyoutofthequestion.Itwasequallyoutofthe question to sit, or wander about my room, counting the hours and theminutesbetweenmeandtheappointedtimeofaction,strainingmyearsandtrembling at every sound, lest someone should discover and betray us afterall.Itookupabookandtriedtoread:myeyeswanderedoverthepages,butit was impossible to bind my thoughts to their contents. Why not haverecourse to the old expedient, and add this last event to my chronicle? Iopeneditspagesoncemore,andwrotetheaboveaccount—withdifficulty,atfirst, but gradually my mind became more calm and steady. Thus severalhours have passed away: the time is drawing near; and now my eyes feelheavyandmyframeexhausted.IwillcommendmycausetoGod,andthenliedownandgainanhourortwoofsleep;andthen!—

Little Arthur sleeps soundly. All the house is still: there can be no onewatching.TheboxeswereallcordedbyBenson,andquietlyconveyeddowntheback stairs afterdusk, and sent away in a cart to theM—coach-office.The name upon the cards was Mrs. Graham, which appellation I meanhenceforthtoadopt.Mymother’smaidennamewasGraham,andthereforeIfancyIhavesomeclaimtoit,andpreferittoanyother,exceptmyown,whichIdarenotresume.

CHAPTERXLIV

October 24th.—Thank heaven, I am free and safe at last. Early we rose,swiftlyandquietlydressed,slowlyandstealthilydescendedtothehall,whereBensonstoodreadywitha light, toopenthedoorandfastenitafterus. Wewereobligedtoletonemanintooursecretonaccountoftheboxes,&c.All

the servants were but too well acquainted with their master’s conduct, andeitherBensonorJohnwouldhavebeenwillingtoserveme;butastheformerwas more staid and elderly, and a crony of Rachel’s besides, I of coursedirected her to make choice of him as her assistant and confidant on theoccasion, as far as necessity demanded, I only hope hemay not be broughtintotroublethereby,andonlywishIcouldrewardhimfortheperilousservicehewassoreadytoundertake.Islippedtwoguineasintohishand,bywayofremembrance, as he stood in the doorway, holding the candle to light ourdeparture, with a tear in his honest grey eye, and a host of good wishesdepicted on his solemn countenance. Alas! I could offer no more: I hadbarelysufficientremainingfortheprobableexpensesofthejourney.

What trembling joy it was when the little wicket closed behind us, as weissuedfromthepark!Then,foronemoment,Ipaused,toinhaleonedraughtofthatcool,bracingair,andventureonelookbackuponthehouse.Allwasdark and still: no light glimmered in the windows, no wreath of smokeobscuredthestarsthatsparkledaboveitinthefrostysky.AsIbadefarewellforevertothatplace,thesceneofsomuchguiltandmisery,IfeltgladthatIhadnotleftitbefore,fornowtherewasnodoubtabouttheproprietyofsuchastep—no shadow of remorse for him I left behind. There was nothing todisturbmy joy but the fear of detection; and every step removed us furtherfromthechanceofthat.

WehadleftGrassdalemanymilesbehindusbeforetheroundredsunarosetowelcomeourdeliverance;andifanyinhabitantofitsvicinityhadchancedtoseeusthen,aswebowledalongonthetopofthecoach,Iscarcelythinktheywould have suspected our identity. As I intend to be taken for awidow, Ithought it advisable to enter my new abode in mourning: I was, therefore,attired in a plain black silk dress and mantle, a black veil (which I keptcarefullyovermyfaceforthefirsttwentyorthirtymilesofthejourney),andablacksilkbonnet,whichIhadbeenconstrainedtoborrowofRachel,forwantofsuchanarticlemyself.Itwasnotinthenewestfashion,ofcourse;butnonethe worse for that, under present circumstances. Arthur was clad in hisplainest clothes, and wrapped in a coarse woollen shawl; and Rachel wasmuffledinagreycloakandhoodthathadseenbetterdays,andgavehermorethe appearance of an ordinary though decent old woman, than of a lady’s-maid.

Oh, what delight it was to be thus seated aloft, rumbling along the broad,sunshiny road,with the freshmorning breeze inmy face, surrounded by anunknown country, all smiling—cheerfully, gloriously smiling in the yellowlustreofthoseearlybeams;withmydarlingchildinmyarms,almostashappyasmyself,andmyfaithfulfriendbesideme:aprisonanddespairbehindme,receding further, furtherbackat every clatter of thehorses’ feet; and liberty

and hope before! I could hardly refrain from praising God aloud for mydeliverance,orastonishingmyfellow-passengersbysomesurprisingoutburstofhilarity.

Butthejourneywasaverylongone,andwewereallwearyenoughbeforethecloseofit.ItwasfarintothenightwhenwereachedthetownofL—,andstillweweresevenmilesfromourjourney’send;andtherewasnomorecoaching,nor any conveyance to be had, except a common cart, and that with thegreatestdifficulty,forhalfthetownwasinbed.Andadrearyridewehadofit, that last stage of the journey, cold andweary aswewere; sitting on ourboxes,withnothing to cling to, nothing to lean against, slowlydraggedandcruellyshakenovertherough,hillyroads.ButArthurwasasleepinRachel’slap,andbetweenuswemanagedprettywelltoshieldhimfromthecoldnightair.

Atlastwebegantoascendaterriblysteepandstonylane,which,inspiteofthe darkness,Rachel said she rememberedwell: she had oftenwalked therewithme in her arms, and little thought to come again somany years after,undersuchcircumstancesasthepresent.Arthurbeingnowawakenedbythejoltingandthestoppages,weallgotoutandwalked.Wehadnotfartogo;butwhatifFrederickshouldnothavereceivedmyletter?orifheshouldnothavehadtimetopreparetheroomsforourreception,andweshouldfindthemalldark,damp,andcomfortless,destituteoffood,fire,andfurniture,afterallourtoil?

Atlengththegrim,darkpileappearedbeforeus.Thelaneconductedusroundby the back way. We entered the desolate court, and in breathless anxietysurveyedtheruinousmass.Wasitallblacknessanddesolation?No;onefaintredglimmercheeredusfromawindowwherethelatticewasingoodrepair.The door was fastened, but after due knocking and waiting, and someparleyingwith a voice from an upperwindow,wewere admitted by an oldwomanwhohadbeencommissionedtoairandkeepthehousetillourarrival,into a tolerably snug little apartment, formerly the scullery of themansion,whichFrederickhadnowfittedupasakitchen.Heresheprocuredusalight,rousedthefiretoacheerfulblaze,andsoonpreparedasimplerepastforourrefreshment; while we disencumbered ourselves of our travelling-gear, andtookahasty surveyofournewabode. Besides thekitchen, therewere twobedrooms,agood-sizedparlour,andanothersmallerone,whichIdestinedformy studio, all well aired and seemingly in good repair, but only partlyfurnishedwithafewoldarticles,chieflyofponderousblackoak,theveritableonesthathadbeentherebefore,andwhichhadbeenkeptasantiquarianrelicsin my brother’s present residence, and now, in all haste, transported backagain.

TheoldwomanbroughtmysupperandArthur’sintotheparlour,andtoldme,with all due formality, that ‘the master desired his compliments to Mrs.Graham,andhehadpreparedtheroomsaswellashecoulduponsoshortanotice;buthewoulddohimselfthepleasureofcallinguponherto-morrow,toreceiveherfurthercommands.’

I was glad to ascend the stern-looking stone staircase, and lie down in thegloomy, old-fashioned bed, beside my little Arthur. He was asleep in aminute;but,wearyasIwas,myexcitedfeelingsandrestlesscogitationskeptmeawaketilldawnbegantostrugglewiththedarkness;butsleepwassweetand refreshing when it came, and the waking was delightful beyondexpression.ItwaslittleArthurthatrousedme,withhisgentlekisses.Hewashere, then, safely clasped in my arms, and many leagues away from hisunworthy father! Broad daylight illumined the apartment, for the sun washighinheaven,thoughobscuredbyrollingmassesofautumnalvapour.

The scene, indeed, was not remarkably cheerful in itself, either within orwithout.Thelargebareroom,withitsgrimoldfurniture,thenarrow,latticedwindows, revealing the dull, grey sky above and the desolate wildernessbelow,wherethedarkstonewallsandirongate,therankgrowthofgrassandweeds,andthehardyevergreensofpreternaturalforms,aloneremainedtotellthat therehadbeenonce agarden,—and thebleak andbarren fieldsbeyondmight have struck me as gloomy enough at another time; but now, eachseparateobjectseemedtoechobackmyownexhilaratingsenseofhopeandfreedom:indefinitedreamsofthefarpastandbrightanticipationsofthefutureseemedtogreetmeateveryturn. Ishouldrejoicewithmoresecurity, tobesure,hadthebroadsearolledbetweenmypresentandmyformerhomes;butsurelyinthislonelyspotImightremainunknown;andthenIhadmybrotherheretocheermysolitudewithhisoccasionalvisits.

Hecamethatmorning;andIhavehadseveralinterviewswithhimsince;buthe is obliged to be very cautious when and how he comes; not even hisservants or his best friendsmust know of his visits toWildfell—except onsuchoccasionsasalandlordmightbeexpectedtocalluponastrangertenant—lestsuspicionshouldbeexcitedagainstme,whetherofthetruthorofsomeslanderousfalsehood.

Ihavenowbeenherenearlyafortnight,and,butforonedisturbingcare,thehaunting dread of discovery, I am comfortably settled in my new home:Frederickhassuppliedmewithall requisitefurnitureandpaintingmaterials:Rachelhassoldmostofmyclothesforme,inadistanttown,andprocuredmeawardrobemoresuitabletomypresentposition:Ihaveasecond-handpiano,andatolerablywell-stockedbookcaseinmyparlour;andmyotherroomhasassumedquiteaprofessional,business-likeappearancealready.Iamworking

hardtorepaymybrotherforallhisexpensesonmyaccount;notthatthereisthe slightestnecessity foranythingof thekind,but itpleasesme todoso: Ishallhavesomuchmorepleasureinmylabour,myearnings,myfrugalfare,andhouseholdeconomy,whenIknowthatIampayingmywayhonestly,andthatwhatlittleIpossessislegitimatelyallmyown;andthatnoonesuffersformyfolly—inapecuniarywayatleast.IshallmakehimtakethelastpennyIowehim,ifIcanpossiblyeffectitwithoutoffendinghimtoodeeply.Ihaveafew pictures already done, for I told Rachel to pack up all I had; and sheexecuted her commission but too well—for among the rest, she put up aportraitofMr.HuntingdonthatIhadpaintedinthefirstyearofmymarriage.It struckmewith dismay, at themoment, when I took it from the box andbeheldthoseeyesfixeduponmeintheirmockingmirth,asifexultingstillinhispowertocontrolmyfate,andderidingmyeffortstoescape.

Howwidelydifferent hadbeenmy feelings in painting that portrait towhattheynowwere in lookinguponit! HowIhadstudiedandtoiledtoproducesomething, as I thought,worthy of the original!whatmingled pleasure anddissatisfactionIhadhadintheresultofmylabours!—pleasureforthelikenessI had caught; dissatisfaction, because I had notmade it handsome enough.Now,Iseenobeautyinit—nothingpleasinginanypartofitsexpression;andyet it is far handsomer and farmore agreeable—far less repulsive I shouldrathersay—thanheisnow:forthesesixyearshavewroughtalmostasgreatachangeuponhimselfasonmyfeelingsregardinghim.Theframe,however,ishandsomeenough;itwillserveforanotherpainting.ThepictureitselfIhavenotdestroyed,asIhadfirstintended;Ihaveputitaside;not,Ithink,fromanylurkingtendernessforthememoryofpastaffection,noryettoremindmeofmy former folly, but chiefly that I may compare my son’s features andcountenancewiththis,ashegrowsup,andthusbeenabledtojudgehowmuchorhowlittleheresembleshisfather—ifImaybeallowedtokeephimwithmestill, and never to behold that father’s face again—a blessing I hardly darereckonupon.

ItseemsMr.Huntingdonismakingeveryexertiontodiscovertheplaceofmyretreat. He has been in person to Staningley, seeking redress for hisgrievances—expecting tohearofhisvictims, ifnot to find them there—andhastoldsomanylies,andwithsuchunblushingcoolness,thatmyunclemorethan half believes him, and strongly advocates my going back to him andbeingfriendsagain.Butmyauntknowsbetter:sheistoocoolandcautious,andtoowellacquaintedwithbothmyhusband’scharacterandmyowntobeimposed upon by any specious falsehoods the former could invent. But hedoesnotwantmeback;hewantsmychild;andgivesmyfriendstounderstandthatifIpreferlivingapartfromhim,hewillindulgethewhimandletmedosounmolested,andevensettleareasonableallowanceonme,providedIwill

immediatelydeliveruphisson.Butheavenhelpme!Iamnotgoingtosellmychild forgold, though itwere tosavebothhimandmefromstarving: itwouldbebetter thatheshoulddiewithme than thatheshould livewithhisfather.

Frederickshowedmealetterhehadreceivedfromthatgentleman,fullofcoolimpudencesuchaswouldastonishanyonewhodidnotknowhim,butsuchas,Iamconvinced,nonewouldknowbetterhowtoanswerthanmybrother.He gave me no account of his reply, except to tell me that he had notacknowledgedhisacquaintancewithmyplaceofrefuge,butratherleftittobeinferredthatitwasquiteunknowntohim,bysayingitwasuselesstoapplytohim, or any other of my relations, for information on the subject, as itappearedIhadbeendriventosuchextremitythatIhadconcealedmyretreatevenfrommybestfriends;butthatifhehadknownit,orshouldatanytimebemadeawareofit,mostcertainlyMr.Huntingdonwouldbethelastpersontowhomheshouldcommunicatetheintelligence;andthatheneednottroublehimselftobargainforthechild,forhe(Frederick)fanciedheknewenoughofhis sister to enable him to declare, thatwherever shemight be, or howeversituated,noconsiderationwouldinducehertodeliverhimup.

30th.—Alas!mykindneighbourswillnotletmealone.Bysomemeanstheyhave ferreted me out, and I have had to sustain visits from three differentfamilies,allmoreorlessbentupondiscoveringwhoandwhatIam,whenceIcame, and why I have chosen such a home as this. Their society isunnecessarytome,tosaytheleast,andtheircuriosityannoysandalarmsme:ifIgratifyit,itmayleadtotheruinofmyson,andifIamtoomysteriousitwillonlyexcite theirsuspicions, inviteconjecture,androusethemtogreaterexertions—and perhaps be themeans of spreadingmy fame from parish toparish, till it reach the ears of some one who will carry it to the Lord ofGrassdaleManor.

Ishallbeexpectedtoreturntheircalls,butif,uponinquiry,IfindthatanyofthemlivetoofarawayforArthurtoaccompanyme,theymustexpectinvainforawhile,forIcannotbeartoleavehim,unlessitbetogotochurch,andIhavenotattemptedthatyet:for—itmaybefoolishweakness,butIamundersuchconstantdreadofhisbeingsnatchedaway,thatIamnevereasywhenheisnotbymyside;andIfearthesenervousterrorswouldsoentirelydisturbmydevotions, that I should obtain no benefit from the attendance. I mean,however,tomaketheexperimentnextSunday,andobligemyselftoleavehimin charge of Rachel for a few hours. It will be a hard task, but surely noimprudence; and the vicar has been to scold me for my neglect of theordinancesofreligion.Ihadnosufficientexcusetooffer,andIpromised,ifallwerewell,heshouldseemeinmypewnextSunday;forIdonotwishtobesetdownasaninfidel;and,besides,IknowIshouldderivegreatcomfort

andbenefit fromanoccasionalattendanceatpublicworship, if I couldonlyhave faith and fortitude to compose my thoughts in conformity with thesolemnoccasion,andforbidthemtobeforeverdwellingonmyabsentchild,andonthedreadfulpossibilityoffindinghimgonewhenIreturn;andsurelyGodinHismercywillpreservemefromsosevereatrial:formychild’sownsake,ifnotformine,Hewillnotsufferhimtobetornaway.

November3rd.—Ihavemadesomefurtheracquaintancewithmyneighbours.The fine gentleman and beau of the parish and its vicinity (in his ownestimation,atleast)isayoung....

Hereitended.Therestwastornaway.Howcruel,justwhenshewasgoingtomentionme!forIcouldnotdoubtitwasyourhumbleservantshewasabouttomention, thoughnotveryfavourably,ofcourse. Icould tell that,aswellbythose fewwords as by the recollection of herwhole aspect and demeanourtowardsmeinthecommencementofouracquaintance.Well!Icouldreadilyforgiveherprejudiceagainstme,andherhardthoughtsofoursexingeneral,whenIsawtowhatbrilliantspecimensherexperiencehadbeenlimited.

Respectingme,however,shehadlongsinceseenhererror,andperhapsfallenintoanotherintheoppositeextreme:forif,atfirst,heropinionofmehadbeenlowerthanIdeserved,Iwasconvincedthatnowmydesertswerelowerthanheropinion;andiftheformerpartofthiscontinuationhadbeentornawaytoavoidwoundingmyfeelings,perhapsthelatterportionhadbeenremovedforfear ofministering toomuch tomy self-conceit. At any rate, Iwouldhavegivenmuch to have seen it all—to havewitnessed the gradual change, andwatched the progress of her esteem and friendship for me, and whateverwarmerfeelingshemighthave;tohaveseenhowmuchoflovetherewasinherregard,andhowithadgrownuponherinspiteofhervirtuousresolutionsand strenuousexertions to—butno, Ihadno right to see it: all thiswas toosacredforanyeyesbutherown,andshehaddonewelltokeepitfromme.

CHAPTERXLV

Well,Halford,whatdoyou thinkofall this?andwhileyou read it,didyouever picture to yourself what my feelings would probably be during itsperusal?Mostlikelynot;butIamnotgoingtodescantuponthemnow:Iwillonly make this acknowledgment, little honourable as it may be to humannature,andespeciallytomyself,—thattheformerhalfofthenarrativewas,tome, more painful than the latter, not that I was at all insensible to Mrs.Huntingdon’swrongsorunmovedbyhersufferings,but,Imustconfess,Ifeltakindofselfishgratificationinwatchingherhusband’sgradualdeclineinher

goodgraces, and seeinghowcompletelyhe extinguishedall her affectionatlast. Theeffectof thewhole,however, in spiteofallmysympathy forher,andmyfuryagainsthim,wastorelievemymindofanintolerableburden,andfill my heart with joy, as if some friend had roused me from a dreadfulnightmare.

Itwasnowneareighto’clockinthemorning,formycandlehadexpiredinthemidst of my perusal, leaving me no alternative but to get another, at theexpense of alarming the house, or to go to bed, and wait the return ofdaylight. On my mother’s account, I chose the latter; but how willingly Isoughtmypillow,andhowmuchsleepitbroughtme,Ileaveyoutoimagine.

At the first appearance of dawn, I rose, and brought the manuscript to thewindow, but it was impossible to read it yet. I devoted half an hour todressing, and then returned to it again. Now,with a littledifficulty, I couldmanage;andwith intenseandeager interest, Idevoured the remainderof itscontents.Whenitwasended,andmytransientregretatitsabruptconclusionwas over, I opened the window and put out my head to catch the coolingbreeze,andimbibedeepdraughtsofthepuremorningair.Asplendidmorningitwas;thehalf-frozendewlaythickonthegrass,theswallowsweretwitteringroundme,therookscawing,andcowslowinginthedistance;andearlyfrostandsummersunshinemingledtheirsweetnessintheair.ButIdidnotthinkofthat:aconfusionofcountlessthoughtsandvariedemotionscrowdeduponmewhileIgazedabstractedlyon the lovelyfaceofnature. Soon,however, thischaos of thoughts and passions cleared away, giving place to two distinctemotions:joyunspeakablethatmyadoredHelenwasallIwishedtothinkher—that through the noisome vapours of the world’s aspersions andmy ownfanciedconvictions,hercharactershonebright,andclear,andstainlessasthatsun I could not bear to look on; and shame and deep remorse formy ownconduct.

ImmediatelyafterbreakfastIhurriedovertoWildfellHall.Rachelhadrisenmanydegreesinmyestimationsinceyesterday.Iwasreadytogreetherquiteas anold friend; but everykindly impulsewas checkedby the lookof colddistrustshecastuponmeonopeningthedoor.Theoldvirginhadconstitutedherselftheguardianofherlady’shonour,Isuppose,anddoubtlessshesawinmeanotherMr.Hargrave,only themoredangerous inbeingmore esteemedandtrustedbyhermistress.

‘Missiscan’tseeanyoneto-day,sir—she’spoorly,’saidshe,inanswertomyinquiryforMrs.Graham.

‘ButImustseeher,Rachel,’saidI,placingmyhandonthedoortopreventitsbeingshutagainstme.

‘Indeed,sir,youcan’t,’repliedshe,settlinghercountenanceinstillmoreironfrigiditythanbefore.

‘Besogoodastoannounceme.’

‘It’snomannerofuse,Mr.Markham;she’spoorly,Itellyou.’

Just in time to prevent me from committing the impropriety of taking thecitadel by storm, and pushing forward unannounced, an inner door opened,andlittleArthurappearedwithhisfrolicsomeplayfellow,thedog.Heseizedmyhandbetweenbothhis,andsmilinglydrewmeforward.

‘Mammasaysyou’retocomein,Mr.Markham,’saidhe,‘andIamtogooutandplaywithRover.’

Rachel retiredwithasigh,andIstepped into theparlourandshut thedoor.There,beforethefire-place,stoodthetall,gracefulfigure,wastedwithmanysorrows.Icastthemanuscriptonthetable,andlookedinherface.Anxiousandpale, itwas turned towardsme;herclear,darkeyeswerefixedonminewithagazesointenselyearnestthattheyboundmelikeaspell.

‘Haveyoulookeditover?’shemurmured.Thespellwasbroken.

‘I’vereaditthrough,’saidI,advancingintotheroom,—‘andIwanttoknowifyou’llforgiveme—ifyoucanforgiveme?’

Shedidnotanswer,buthereyesglistened,andafaintredmantledonherlipand cheek. As I approached, she abruptly turned away, and went to thewindow.Itwasnotinanger,Iwaswellassured,butonlytoconcealorcontrolheremotion. I thereforeventuredtofollowandstandbesideherthere,—butnottospeak.Shegavemeherhand,withoutturningherhead,andmurmuredinavoiceshestroveinvaintosteady,—‘Canyouforgiveme?’

Itmightbedeemedabreachoftrust,Ithought,toconveythatlilyhandtomylips, so Ionlygentlypressed itbetweenmyown,andsmilingly replied,—‘Ihardly can. You should have told me this before. It shows a want ofconfidence—’

‘Oh,no,’criedshe,eagerlyinterruptingme;‘itwasnotthat.Itwasnowantofconfidence inyou;but if Ihad toldyouanythingofmyhistory, Imusthavetoldyouall,inordertoexcusemyconduct;andImightwellshrinkfromsucha disclosure, till necessity obligedme tomake it. But you forgiveme?—Ihave done very, verywrong, I know; but, as usual, I have reaped the bitterfruitsofmyownerror,—andmustreapthemtotheend.’

Bitter, indeed, was the tone of anguish, repressed by resolute firmness, inwhich this was spoken. Now, I raised her hand to my lips, and ferventlykissed it again and again; for tears prevented any other reply. She suffered

thesewild caresseswithout resistance or resentment; then, suddenly turningfrom me, she paced twice or thrice through the room. I knew by thecontractionofherbrow,thetightcompressionofherlips,andwringingofherhands, that meantime a violent conflict between reason and passion wassilentlypassingwithin.Atlengthshepausedbeforetheemptyfire-place,andturning tome, said calmly—if thatmight be called calmnesswhichwas soevidentlytheresultofaviolenteffort,—‘Now,Gilbert,youmustleaveme—notthismoment,butsoon—andyoumustnevercomeagain.’

‘Neveragain,Helen?justwhenIloveyoumorethanever.’

‘For that very reason, if it be so,we should notmeet again. I thought thisinterview was necessary—at least, I persuaded myself it was so—that wemightseverallyaskandreceiveeachother’spardonforthepast;buttherecanbenoexcuseforanother.Ishallleavethisplace,assoonasIhavemeanstoseekanotherasylum;butourintercoursemustendhere.’

‘Endhere!’echoedI;andapproachingthehigh,carvedchimney-piece,Ileantmy hand against its heavymouldings, and droppedmy forehead upon it insilent,sullendespondency.

‘Youmustnotcomeagain,’continuedshe. Therewasaslight tremorinhervoice, but I thought her whole manner was provokingly composed,consideringthedreadfulsentenceshepronounced.‘YoumustknowwhyItellyouso,’sheresumed;‘andyoumustseethatitisbettertopartatonce:—ifitbehardtosayadieuforever,yououghttohelpme.’Shepaused.Ididnotanswer. ‘Willyoupromisenottocome?—ifyouwon’t,andifyoudocomehereagain,youwilldrivemeawaybeforeIknowwheretofindanotherplaceofrefuge—orhowtoseekit.’

‘Helen,’saidI,turningimpatientlytowardsher,‘Icannotdiscussthematterofeternalseparationcalmlyanddispassionatelyasyoucando.Itisnoquestionofmereexpediencewithme;itisaquestionoflifeanddeath!’

She was silent. Her pale lips quivered, and her fingers trembled withagitation, as she nervously entwined them in the hair-chain to which wasappended her small goldwatch—the only thing of value she had permittedherselftokeep.Ihadsaidanunjustandcruelthing;butImustneedsfollowitupwithsomethingworse.

‘But,Helen!’ Ibegan ina soft, low tone,notdaring to raisemyeyes toherface,‘thatmanisnotyourhusband:inthesightofheavenhehasforfeitedallclaimto—‘Sheseizedmyarmwithagraspofstartlingenergy.

‘Gilbert, don’t!’ she cried, in a tone that would have pierced a heart ofadamant. ‘For God’s sake, don’t you attempt these arguments! No fiend

couldtorturemelikethis!’

‘I won’t, I won’t!’ said I, gently laying my hand on hers; almost as muchalarmedathervehemenceasashamedofmyownmisconduct.

‘Instead of acting like a true friend,’ continued she, breaking fromme, andthrowingherselfintotheoldarm-chair,‘andhelpingmewithallyourmight—or rather taking your ownpart in the struggle of right against passion—youleavealltheburdentome;—andnotsatisfiedwiththat,youdoyourutmosttofightagainstme—whenyouknowthat!—‘shepaused,andhidherfaceinherhandkerchief.

‘Forgive me, Helen!’ pleaded I. ‘I will never utter another word on thesubject.Butmaywenotstillmeetasfriends?’

‘Itwillnotdo,’shereplied,mournfullyshakingherhead;andthensheraisedhereyestomine,withamildlyreproachfullookthatseemedtosay,‘YoumustknowthataswellasI.’

‘Thenwhatmustwedo?’criedI,passionately.ButimmediatelyIaddedinaquietertone—‘I’lldowhateveryoudesire;onlydon’tsaythatthismeetingistobeourlast.’

‘Andwhynot?Don’tyouknowthateverytimewemeetthethoughtsofthefinalpartingwillbecomemorepainful? Don’tyoufeel thateveryinterviewmakesusdearertoeachotherthanthelast?’

Theutteranceofthislastquestionwashurriedandlow,andthedowncasteyesand burning blush too plainly showed that she, at least, had felt it. It wasscarcelyprudenttomakesuchanadmission,ortoadd—asshepresentlydid—‘Ihavepowertobidyougo,now:anothertimeitmightbedifferent,’—butIwasnotbaseenoughtoattempttotakeadvantageofhercandour.

‘But we may write,’ I timidly suggested. ‘You will not deny me thatconsolation?’

‘Wecanhearofeachotherthroughmybrother.’

‘Yourbrother!’Apangofremorseandshameshotthroughme.Shehadnotheardoftheinjuryhehadsustainedatmyhands;andIhadnotthecouragetotellher.‘Yourbrotherwillnothelpus,’Isaid:‘hewouldhaveallcommunionbetweenustobeentirelyatanend.’

‘Andhewouldberight,Isuppose.Asafriendofboth,hewouldwishusbothwell;andeveryfriendwouldtellusitwasourinterest,aswellasourduty,toforgeteachother,thoughwemightnotseeitourselves. Butdon’tbeafraid,Gilbert,’sheadded,smilingsadlyatmymanifestdiscomposure;‘thereislittlechanceofmyforgettingyou.ButIdidnotmeanthatFrederickshouldbethe

means of transmitting messages between us—only that each might know,throughhim,oftheother’swelfare;—andmorethanthisoughtnottobe:foryouareyoung,Gilbert,andyououghttomarry—andwillsometime,thoughyoumaythinkit impossiblenow:andthoughIhardlycansayIwishyoutoforgetme,Iknowitisrightthatyoushould,bothforyourownhappiness,andthat of your futurewife;—and therefore Imust andwillwish it,’ she addedresolutely.

‘And you are young too,Helen,’ I boldly replied; ‘andwhen that profligatescoundrelhasrunthroughhiscareer,youwillgiveyourhandtome—I’llwaittillthen.’

Butshewouldnotleavemethissupport.Independentlyofthemoralevilofbasingourhopesuponthedeathofanother,who,ifunfitforthisworld,wasatleastnolesssoforthenext,andwhoseameliorationwouldthusbecomeourbaneandhisgreatesttransgressionourgreatestbenefit,—shemaintainedittobemadness:manymenofMr.Huntingdon’shabitshadlivedtoaripethoughmiserable old age. ‘And if I,’ said she, ‘am young in years, I am old insorrow; but even if trouble should fail to killme before vice destroys him,think,ifhereachedbutfiftyyearsorso,wouldyouwaittwentyorfifteen—invagueuncertaintyandsuspense—throughalltheprimeofyouthandmanhood—and marry at last a woman faded and worn as I shall be—without everhaving seen me from this day to that?—You would not,’ she continued,interrupting my earnest protestations of unfailing constancy,—‘or if youwould,you shouldnot. Trustme,Gilbert; in thismatter I knowbetter thanyou.Youthinkmecoldandstony-hearted,andyoumay,but—’

‘Idon’t,Helen.’

‘Well,nevermind:youmightifyouwould:butIhavenotspentmysolitudeinutteridleness,andIamnotspeakingnowfromtheimpulseofthemoment,asyou do. I have thought of all thesematters again and again; I have arguedthese questions with myself, and pondered well our past, and present, andfuture career; and, believeme, I have come to the right conclusion at last.Trustmywordsratherthanyourownfeelingsnow,andinafewyearsyouwillsee that I was right—though at present I hardly can see it myself,’ shemurmuredwithasighassherestedherheadonherhand.‘Anddon’targueagainstmeanymore:allyoucansayhasbeenalreadysaidbymyownheartandrefutedbymyreason.Itwashardenoughtocombatthosesuggestionsastheywerewhisperedwithinme;inyourmouththeyaretentimesworse,andifyouknewhowmuchtheypainmeyouwouldceaseatonce,Iknow.Ifyouknewmypresentfeelings,youwouldeventrytorelievethemattheexpenseofyourown.’

‘Iwillgo—inaminute,ifthatcanrelieveyou—andNEVERreturn!’saidI,with

bitteremphasis.‘But,ifwemaynevermeet,andneverhopetomeetagain,isitacrimetoexchangeourthoughtsbyletter?Maynotkindredspiritsmeet,andmingle in communion, whatever be the fate and circumstances of theirearthlytenements?’

‘Theymay,theymay!’criedshe,withamomentaryburstofgladenthusiasm.‘Ithoughtofthattoo,Gilbert,butIfearedtomentionit,becauseIfearedyouwouldnotunderstandmyviewsuponthesubject.Ifearitevennow—Ifearanykindfriendwouldtelluswearebothdeludingourselveswiththeideaofkeepingupaspiritualintercoursewithouthopeorprospectofanythingfurther—withoutfosteringvainregretsandhurtfulaspirations,andfeedingthoughtsthatshouldbesternlyandpitilesslylefttoperishofinanition.’

‘Never mind our kind friends: if they can part our bodies, it is enough; inGod’sname, let themnotsunderoursouls!’criedI, in terror lestsheshoulddeemitherdutytodenyusthislastremainingconsolation.

‘Butnoletterscanpassbetweenushere,’saidshe,‘withoutgivingfreshfoodforscandal;andwhenIdeparted,Ihadintendedthatmynewabodeshouldbeunknowntoyouastotherestoftheworld;notthatIshoulddoubtyourwordifyoupromisednottovisitme,butIthoughtyouwouldbemoretranquilinyour own mind if you knew you could not do it, and likely to find lessdifficultyinabstractingyourselffrommeifyoucouldnotpicturemysituationtoyourmind. But listen,’ saidshe, smilinglyputtingupher finger tocheckmy impatient reply: ‘in sixmonths you shall hear from Frederick preciselywhereIam;andifyoustillretainyourwishtowritetome,andthinkyoucanmaintainacorrespondenceall thought,all spirit—suchasdisembodiedsoulsorunimpassionedfriends,atleast,mighthold,—write,andIwillansweryou.’

‘Sixmonths!’

‘Yes,togiveyourpresentardourtimetocool,andtrythetruthandconstancyof your soul’s love formine. Andnow, enoughhas been said betweenus.Whycan’twepartatonce?’exclaimedshe,almostwildly,afteramoment’spause,asshesuddenlyrosefromherchair,withherhandsresolutelyclaspedtogether.Ithoughtitwasmydutytogowithoutdelay;andIapproachedandhalfextendedmyhandasiftotakeleave—shegraspeditinsilence.Butthisthoughtoffinalseparationwastoointolerable:itseemedtosqueezethebloodoutofmyheart;andmyfeetweregluedtothefloor.

‘Andmustwenevermeetagain?’Imurmured,intheanguishofmysoul.

‘Weshallmeetinheaven.Letusthinkofthat,’saidsheinatoneofdesperatecalmness;buthereyesglitteredwildly,andherfacewasdeadlypale.

‘But not as we are now,’ I could not help replying. ‘It gives me little

consolation to think I shall next behold you as a disembodied spirit, or analtered being, with a frame perfect and glorious, but not like this!—and aheart,perhaps,entirelyestrangedfromme.’

‘No,Gilbert,thereisperfectloveinheaven!’

‘Soperfect, I suppose, that it soarsabovedistinctions,andyouwillhavenocloser sympathy with me than with any one of the ten thousand thousandangelsandtheinnumerablemultitudeofhappyspiritsroundus.’

‘WhateverIam,youwillbethesame,and,therefore,cannotpossiblyregretit;andwhateverthatchangemaybeweknowitmustbeforthebetter.’

‘But ifIamtobesochangedthatIshallceasetoadoreyouwithmywholeheart and soul, and love you beyond every other creature, I shall not bemyself;and though, ifever Iwinheavenatall, Imust, Iknow,be infinitelybetter and happier than I am now, my earthly nature cannot rejoice in theanticipation of such beatitude, from which itself and its chief joy must beexcluded.’

‘Isyourloveallearthly,then?’

‘No,butIamsupposingweshallhavenomoreintimatecommunionwitheachotherthanwiththerest.’

‘Ifso,itwillbebecausewelovethemmore,andnoteachotherless.Increaseoflovebringsincreaseofhappiness,whenit ismutual,andpureasthatwillbe.’

‘Butcanyou,Helen,contemplatewithdelightthisprospectoflosingmeinaseaofglory?’

‘IownIcannot;butweknownot that itwillbeso;—andIdoknowthat toregret the exchange of earthly pleasures for the joys of heaven, is as if thegrovellingcaterpillarshouldlamentthatitmustonedayquitthenibbledleaftosoaraloftandflutter throughtheair, rovingatwill fromflower toflower,sippingsweethoneyfromtheircups,orbaskingintheirsunnypetals.Iftheselittlecreaturesknewhowgreatachangeawaitedthem,nodoubt theywouldregretit;butwouldnotallsuchsorrowbemisplaced?Andifthatillustrationwillnotmoveyou,hereisanother:—Wearechildrennow;wefeelaschildren,andweunderstandaschildren;andwhenwearetoldthatmenandwomendonotplaywithtoys,andthatourcompanionswillonedaywearyofthetrivialsports and occupations that interest them and us so deeply now,we cannothelpbeingsaddenedatthethoughtsofsuchanalteration,becausewecannotconceive that as we grow up our own minds will become so enlarged andelevated that we ourselves shall then regard as trifling those objects andpursuitswenowsofondlycherish,and that, thoughourcompanionswillno

longer join us in those childish pastimes, they will drink with us at otherfountains of delight, and mingle their souls with ours in higher aims andnobler occupations beyond our present comprehension, but not less deeplyrelished or less truly good for that, while yet both we and they remainessentiallythesameindividualsasbefore.But,Gilbert,canyoureallyderivenoconsolationfromthethoughtthatwemaymeettogetherwherethereisnomorepainandsorrow,nomorestrivingagainstsin,andstrugglingofthespiritagainst the flesh;wherebothwillbehold thesameglorious truths,anddrinkexaltedandsupremefelicityfromthesamefountainoflightandgoodness—thatBeingwhombothwillworshipwiththesameintensityofholyardour—and where pure and happy creatures both will love with the same divineaffection?Ifyoucannot,neverwritetome!’

‘Helen,Ican!iffaithwouldneverfail.’

‘Now,then,’exclaimedshe,‘whilethishopeisstrongwithinus—’

‘Wewillpart,’Icried.‘Youshallnothavethepainofanotherefforttodismissme.Iwillgoatonce;but—’

Ididnotputmyrequestinwords:sheunderstooditinstinctively,andthistimeshe yielded too—or rather, therewas nothing so deliberate as requesting oryielding in thematter: therewasa sudden impulse thatneithercould resist.OnemomentIstoodandlookedintoherface,thenextIheldhertomyheart,andweseemedtogrowtogetherinacloseembracefromwhichnophysicalormentalforcecouldrendus.Awhispered‘Godblessyou!’and‘Go—go!’wasallshesaid;butwhileshespokesheheldmesofastthat,withoutviolence,Icouldnothaveobeyedher.Atlength,however,bysomeheroiceffort,wetoreourselvesapart,andIrushedfromthehouse.

IhaveaconfusedremembranceofseeinglittleArthurrunningupthegarden-walktomeetme,andofboltingoverthewalltoavoidhim—andsubsequentlyrunning down the steep fields, clearing the stone fences and hedges as theycameinmyway,tillIgotcompletelyoutofsightoftheoldhallanddowntothe bottom of the hill; and then of long hours spent in bitter tears andlamentations, andmelancholymusings in the lonely valley,with the eternalmusicinmyears,ofthewestwindrushingthroughtheovershadowingtrees,andthebrookbabblingandgurglingalongitsstonybed;myeyes,forthemostpart,vacantlyfixedonthedeep,chequeredshadesrestlesslyplayingoverthebright sunny grass at my feet, where now and then a withered leaf or twowouldcomedancingtosharetherevelry;butmyheartwasawayupthehillinthatdarkroomwhereshewasweepingdesolateandalone—shewhomIwasnottocomfort,nottoseeagain,tillyearsorsufferinghadovercomeusboth,andtornourspiritsfromtheirperishingabodesofclay.

There was little business done that day, you may be sure. The farm wasabandonedtothelabourers,andthelabourerswerelefttotheirowndevices.But one duty must be attended to; I had not forgotten my assault uponFrederickLawrence;andImustseehimtoapologisefortheunhappydeed.Iwouldfainhaveputitofftillthemorrow;butwhatifheshoulddenouncemeto his sister in themeantime? No, no! I must ask his pardon to-day, andentreathimtobelenientinhisaccusation,iftherevelationmustbemade. Ideferred it,however, till theevening,whenmyspiritsweremorecomposed,andwhen—oh,wonderfulperversityofhumannature!—somefaintgermsofindefinite hopes were beginning to rise in my mind; not that I intended tocherishthem,afterallthathadbeensaidonthesubject,buttheretheymustlieforawhile,uncrushedthoughnotencouraged,tillIhadlearnttolivewithoutthem.

ArrivedatWoodford,theyoungsquire’sabode,Ifoundnolittledifficultyinobtainingadmissiontohispresence.Theservantthatopenedthedoortoldmehismasterwasveryill,andseemedtothinkitdoubtfulwhetherhewouldbeabletoseeme. Iwasnotgoingtobebaulked,however. Iwaitedcalmlyinthe hall to be announced, but inwardly determined to take no denial. ThemessagewassuchasIexpected—apoliteintimationthatMr.Lawrencecouldseenoone;hewasfeverish,andmustnotbedisturbed.

‘Ishallnotdisturbhimlong,’saidI;‘butImustseehimforamoment:itisonbusinessofimportancethatIwishtospeaktohim.’

‘I’ll tell him, sir,’ said the man. And I advanced further into the hall andfollowedhimnearlytothedooroftheapartmentwherehismasterwas—foritseemedhewasnotinbed.TheanswerreturnedwasthatMr.LawrencehopedIwould be so good as to leave amessage or a notewith the servant, as hecouldattendtonobusinessatpresent.

‘He may as well see me as you,’ said I; and, stepping past the astonishedfootman, Iboldlyrappedat thedoor,entered,andclosed itbehindme. Theroomwas spacious and handsomely furnished—very comfortably, too, for abachelor.Aclear,redfirewasburninginthepolishedgrate:asuperannuatedgreyhound,givenuptoidlenessandgoodliving,laybaskingbeforeitonthethick, soft rug, on one corner of which, beside the sofa, sat a smart youngspringer,lookingwistfullyupinitsmaster’sface—perhapsaskingpermissiontosharehiscouch,or,itmightbe,onlysolicitingacaressfromhishandorakindwordfromhislips.Theinvalidhimselflookedveryinterestingashelayreclining there, inhiselegantdressing-gown,withasilkhandkerchiefboundacrosshis temples. Hisusuallypale facewasflushedandfeverish;hiseyeswere half closed, until he became sensible of my presence—and then heopenedthemwideenough:onehandwasthrownlistlesslyoverthebackofthe

sofa, and held a small volume, with which, apparently, he had been vainlyattemptingtobeguilethewearyhours.Hedroppedit,however,inhisstartofindignant surprise as I advanced into the roomand stoodbeforehimon therug.Heraisedhimselfonhispillows,andgazeduponmewithequaldegreesofnervoushorror,anger,andamazementdepictedonhiscountenance.

‘Mr.Markham,Iscarcelyexpectedthis!’hesaid;andthebloodlefthischeekashespoke.

‘Iknowyoudidn’t,’answeredI;‘butbequietaminute,andI’lltellyouwhatIcamefor.’ Unthinkingly,Iadvancedasteportwonearer. Hewincedatmyapproach, with an expression of aversion and instinctive physical fearanythingbutconciliatorytomyfeelings.Isteppedback,however.

‘Makeyourstoryashortone,’saidhe,puttinghishandonthesmallsilverbellthatstoodonthetablebesidehim,‘orIshallbeobligedtocallforassistance.Iaminnostatetobearyourbrutalitiesnow,oryourpresenceeither.’Andintruth themoisturestarted fromhisporesandstoodonhispale forehead likedew.

Such a reception was hardly calculated to diminish the difficulties of myunenviable task. Itmust be performed however, in some fashion; and so Iplungedintoitatonce,andflounderedthroughitasIcould.

‘Thetruthis,Lawrence,’saidI,‘Ihavenotactedquitecorrectlytowardsyouoflate—especiallyonthislastoccasion;andI’mcometo—inshort,toexpressmy regret for what has been done, and to beg your pardon. If you don’tchoose togrant it,’ I addedhastily, not liking the aspectofhis face, ‘it’s nomatter;onlyI’vedonemyduty—that’sall.’

‘It’seasilydone,’repliedhe,withafaintsmileborderingonasneer:‘toabuseyourfriendandknockhimontheheadwithoutanyassignablecause,andthentellhimthedeedwasnotquitecorrect,butit’snomatterwhetherhepardonsitornot.’

‘Iforgottotellyouthatitwasinconsequenceofamistake,’—mutteredI.‘Ishould have made a very handsome apology, but you provoked me soconfoundedlywithyour—.Well,Isupposeit’smyfault.Thefactis,Ididn’tknowthatyouwereMrs.Graham’sbrother,andIsawandheardsomethingsrespecting your conduct towards her which were calculated to awakenunpleasantsuspicions,that,allowmetosay,alittlecandourandconfidenceonyourpartmighthaveremoved;and,atlast,Ichancedtooverhearapartofaconversation between you and her thatmademe think I had a right to hateyou.’

‘And how came you to know that I was her brother?’ asked he, in some

anxiety.

‘Shetoldmeherself.Shetoldmeall.SheknewImightbetrusted.Butyouneedn’t disturb yourself about that,Mr. Lawrence, for I’ve seen the last ofher!’

‘Thelast!Isshegone,then?’

‘No;butshehasbidadieutome,andIhavepromisednever togonear thathouse againwhile she inhabits it.’ I could have groaned aloud at the bitterthoughts awakened by this turn in the discourse. But I only clenched myhands and stamped my foot upon the rug. My companion, however, wasevidentlyrelieved.

‘Youhavedoneright,’hesaid,inatoneofunqualifiedapprobation,whilehisfacebrightenedintoalmostasunnyexpression.‘Andasforthemistake,Iamsorryforbothoursakesthatitshouldhaveoccurred.Perhapsyoucanforgivemywantofcandour,andremember,assomepartialmitigationoftheoffence,howlittleencouragementtofriendlyconfidenceyouhavegivenmeoflate.’

‘Yes,yes—Irememberitall:nobodycanblamememorethanIblamemyselfinmyownheart;atanyrate,nobodycanregretmoresincerelythanIdotheresultofmybrutality,asyourightlytermit.’

‘Nevermindthat,’saidhe,faintlysmiling;‘letusforgetallunpleasantwordson both sides, aswell as deeds, and consign to oblivion everything thatwehavecausetoregret.Haveyouanyobjectiontotakemyhand,oryou’drathernot?’Ittrembledthroughweaknessashehelditout,anddroppedbeforeIhadtimetocatchitandgiveitaheartysqueeze,whichhehadnotthestrengthtoreturn.

‘Howdryandburningyourhandis,Lawrence,’saidI.‘Youarereallyill,andIhavemadeyouworsebyallthistalk.’

‘Oh,itisnothing;onlyacoldgotbytherain.’

‘Mydoing,too.’

‘Nevermindthat.Buttellme,didyoumentionthisaffairtomysister?’

‘Toconfess the truth, Ihadnot thecourage todoso;butwhenyou tellher,willyoujustsaythatIdeeplyregretit,and—?’

‘Oh, never fear! I shall say nothing against you, as long as you keep yourgoodresolutionofremainingalooffromher.Shehasnotheardofmyillness,then,thatyouareawareof?’

‘Ithinknot.’

‘I’mgladofthat,forIhavebeenallthistimetormentingmyselfwiththefearthatsomebodywouldtellherIwasdying,ordesperatelyill,andshewouldbeeitherdistressingherselfonaccountofherinabilitytohearfrommeordomeanygood,orperhapscommitting themadnessofcoming to seeme. Imustcontrive to let her know something about it, if I can,’ continued he,reflectively,‘orshewillbehearingsomesuchstory.Manywouldbegladtotell her such news, just to see how she would take it; and then she mightexposeherselftofreshscandal.’

‘IwishIhadtoldher,’saidI.‘Ifitwerenotformypromise,Iwouldtellhernow.’

‘Bynomeans!Iamnotdreamingofthat;—butifIweretowriteashortnote,now, notmentioning you,Markham, but just giving a slight account ofmyillness,bywayofexcuseformynotcomingtoseeher,andtoputheronherguard against any exaggerated reports she may hear,—and address it in adisguisedhand—wouldyoudomethefavourtoslipitintothepost-officeasyoupass?forIdarenottrustanyoftheservantsinsuchacase.’

MostwillinglyIconsented,andimmediatelybroughthimhisdesk.Therewaslittle need to disguise his hand, for the poor fellow seemed to haveconsiderabledifficultyinwritingatall,soastobelegible.Whenthenotewasdone, I thought it time to retire, and took leave, after asking if there wasanything in the world I could do for him, little or great, in the way ofalleviatinghissufferings,andrepairingtheinjuryIhaddone.

‘No,’saidhe;‘youhavealreadydonemuchtowardsit;youhavedonemoreforme than themost skilful physician could do: for you have relievedmymindof twogreatburdens—anxietyonmysister’saccount,anddeep regretuponyourown:forIdobelievethesetwosourcesoftormenthavehadmoreeffectinworkingmeupintoafeverthananythingelse;andIampersuadedIshallsoonrecovernow.Thereisonemorethingyoucandoforme,andthatis,comeandseemenowandthen—foryouseeIamverylonelyhere,andIpromiseyourentranceshallnotbedisputedagain.’

Iengagedtodoso,anddepartedwithacordialpressureofthehand.Ipostedtheletteronmywayhome,mostmanfullyresistingthetemptationofdroppinginawordfrommyselfatthesametime.

CHAPTERXLVI

Ifeltstronglytempted,attimes,toenlightenmymotherandsisterontherealcharacterandcircumstancesof thepersecuted tenantofWildfellHall,andat

firstIgreatlyregrettedhavingomittedtoaskthatlady’spermissiontodoso;but,onduereflection,Iconsideredthatifitwereknowntothem,itcouldnotlongremainasecrettotheMillwardsandWilsons,andsuchwasmypresentappreciationofElizaMillward’sdisposition,that,ifonceshegotacluetothestory, I should fear shewouldsoon findmeans toenlightenMr.Huntingdonupontheplaceofhiswife’sretreat.Iwouldthereforewaitpatientlytilltheseweary sixmonthswereover, and then,when the fugitivehad foundanotherhome,andIwaspermittedtowritetoher,Iwouldbegtobeallowedtoclearher name from these vile calumnies: at present I must content myself withsimplyassertingthatIknewthemtobefalse,andwouldproveitsomeday,totheshameofthosewhoslanderedher.Idon’tthinkanybodybelievedme,buteverybody soon learned to avoid insinuating a word against her, or evenmentioninghernameinmypresence.TheythoughtIwassomadlyinfatuatedbytheseductionsofthatunhappyladythatIwasdeterminedtosupportherinthe very face of reason; and meantime I grow insupportably morose andmisanthropical from the idea that everyone ImetwasharbouringunworthythoughtsofthesupposedMrs.Graham,andwouldexpressthemifhedared.Mypoormotherwasquitedistressedaboutme;butIcouldn’thelpit—atleastI thought I could not, though sometimes I felt a pang of remorse for myundutiful conduct to her, andmade an effort to amend, attendedwith somepartialsuccess;andindeedIwasgenerallymorehumanisedinmydemeanourtoherthantoanyoneelse,Mr.Lawrenceexcepted.RoseandFergususuallyshunnedmypresence;anditwaswelltheydid,forIwasnotfitcompanyforthem,northeyforme,underthepresentcircumstances.

Mrs.Huntingdondidnot leaveWildfellHall tillabovetwomonthsafterourfarewellinterview.Duringthattimesheneverappearedatchurch,andIneverwent near the house: I only knew shewas still there by her brother’s briefanswerstomymanyandvariedinquiriesrespectingher.Iwasaveryconstantand attentive visitor to him throughout the whole period of his illness andconvalescence;notonlyfromtheinterestItookinhisrecovery,andmydesireto cheer him up and make the utmost possible amends for my former‘brutality,’ but from my growing attachment to himself, and the increasingpleasureIfoundinhissociety—partlyfromhisincreasedcordialitytome,butchieflyonaccountofhiscloseconnection,bothinbloodandinaffection,withmyadoredHelen.IlovedhimforitbetterthanIlikedtoexpress:andItookasecretdelightinpressingthoseslenderwhitefingers,somarvellouslylikeherown,consideringhewasnotawoman,andinwatchingthepassingchangesinhis fair, pale features, and observing the intonations of his voice, detectingresemblanceswhichIwonderedhadneverstruckmebefore.Heprovokedmeattimes,indeed,byhisevidentreluctancetotalktomeabouthissister,thoughIdidnotquestionthefriendlinessofhismotivesinwishingtodiscouragemyremembranceofher.

His recoverywasnotquite so rapidashehadexpected it tobe;hewasnotabletomounthisponytillafortnightafterthedateofourreconciliation;andthe first use hemade of his returning strengthwas to ride over by night toWildfellHall,toseehissister.Itwasahazardousenterprisebothforhimandforher,buthe thought itnecessary toconsultwithheron thesubjectofherprojecteddeparture,ifnottocalmherapprehensionsrespectinghishealth,andtheworstresultwasaslightrelapseofhisillness,fornooneknewofthevisitbuttheinmatesoftheoldHall,exceptmyself;andIbelieveithadnotbeenhisintention tomention it tome, forwhen Icame to seehim thenextday,andobservedhewasnotsowellasheoughttohavebeen,hemerelysaidhehadcaughtcoldbybeingouttoolateintheevening.

‘You’llneverbeabletoseeyoursister,ifyoudon’ttakecareofyourself,’saidI, a little provoked at the circumstance on her account, instead ofcommiseratinghim.

‘I’veseenheralready,’saidhe,quietly.

‘You’veseenher!’criedI,inastonishment.

‘Yes.’Andthenhetoldmewhatconsiderationshadimpelledhimtomaketheventure,andwithwhatprecautionshehadmadeit.

‘Andhowwasshe?’Ieagerlyasked.

‘Asusual,’wasthebriefthoughsadreply.

‘Asusual—thatis,farfromhappyandfarfromstrong.’

‘She is not positively ill,’ returned he; ‘and shewill recover her spirits in awhile, I have no doubt—but somany trials have been almost toomuch forher. How threatening those clouds look,’ continued he, turning towards thewindow.‘Weshallhavethunder-showersbeforenight,Iimagine,andtheyarejustinthemidstofstackingmycorn.Haveyougotyoursallinyet?’

‘No.And,Lawrence,didshe—didyoursistermentionme?’

‘SheaskedifIhadseenyoulately.’

‘Andwhatelsedidshesay?’

‘Icannottellyouallshesaid,’repliedhe,withaslightsmile;‘forwetalkedagooddeal,thoughmystaywasbutshort;butourconversationwaschieflyonthe subjectofher intendeddeparture,which Ibeggedher todelay till Iwasbetterabletoassistherinhersearchafteranotherhome.’

‘Butdidshesaynomoreaboutme?’

‘Shedidnotsaymuchaboutyou,Markham.Ishouldnothaveencouragedher

todoso,hadshebeeninclined;buthappilyshewasnot:sheonlyaskedafewquestions concerning you, and seemed satisfied with my brief answers,whereinsheshowedherselfwiserthanherfriend;andImaytellyou,too,thatsheseemedtobefarmoreanxiouslestyoushouldthinktoomuchofher,thanlestyoushouldforgether.’

‘Shewasright.’

‘ButIfearyouranxietyisquitetheotherwayrespectingher.’

‘No, it is not: I wish her to be happy; but I don’t wish her to forget mealtogether.SheknowsitisimpossiblethatIshouldforgether;andsheisrighttowishmenottorememberhertoowell.Ishouldnotdesirehertoregretmetoo deeply; but I can scarcely imagine shewillmake herself very unhappyaboutme,becauseIknowIamnotworthyofit,exceptinmyappreciationofher.’

‘Youareneitherofyouworthyofabrokenheart,—norofall the sighs, andtears,andsorrowfulthoughtsthathavebeen,andIfearwillbe,wasteduponyouboth;but,atpresent,eachhasamoreexaltedopinionoftheotherthan,Ifear,heorshedeserves;andmysister’sfeelingsarenaturallyfullaskeenasyours,andIbelievemoreconstant;butshehasthegoodsenseandfortitudetostriveagainst themin thisparticular;andI trustshewillnot rest till shehasentirelyweanedherthoughts—‘hehesitated.

‘Fromme,’saidI.

‘AndIwishyouwouldmakethelikeexertions,’continuedhe.

‘Didshetellyouthatthatwasherintention?’

‘No;thequestionwasnotbroachedbetweenus:therewasnonecessityforit,forIhadnodoubtthatsuchwasherdetermination.’

‘Toforgetme?’

‘Yes,Markham!Whynot?’

‘Oh, well!’ was my only audible reply; but I internally answered,—‘No,Lawrence,you’rewrongthere:sheisnotdeterminedtoforgetme.Itwouldbewrong to forget one so deeply and fondly devoted to her, who can sothoroughlyappreciateherexcellencies,andsympathisewithallherthoughts,asIcando,anditwouldbewronginmetoforgetsoexcellentanddivineapieceofGod’s creationas she,when Ihaveonce so truly lovedandknownher.’ButIsaidnomoretohimonthatsubject.Iinstantlystartedanewtopicofconversation,andsoontookleaveofmycompanion,withafeelingoflesscordiality towards him than usual. Perhaps I had no right to be annoyed athim,butIwassonevertheless.

In littlemore than aweek after this Imet him returning from a visit to theWilsons’;andInowresolvedtodohimagoodturn,thoughattheexpenseofhisfeelings,andperhapsat theriskof incurring thatdispleasurewhich issocommonly the rewardof thosewhogivedisagreeable information,or tendertheir advice unasked. In this, believeme, Iwas actuated by nomotives ofrevengefortheoccasionalannoyancesIhadlatelysustainedfromhim,—noryetbyanyfeelingofmalevolentenmitytowardsMissWilson,butpurelybythe fact that I could not endure that such a woman should be Mrs.Huntingdon’ssister,andthat,aswellforhisownsakeasforhers,Icouldnotbeartothinkofhisbeingdeceivedintoaunionwithonesounworthyofhim,andsoutterlyunfittedtobethepartnerofhisquiethome,andthecompanionof his life. He had had uncomfortable suspicions on that head himself, Iimagined;butsuchwashisinexperience,andsuchwerethelady’spowersofattraction,andherskillinbringingthemtobearuponhisyoungimagination,thattheyhadnotdisturbedhimlong;andIbelievetheonlyeffectualcausesofthe vacillating indecision that had preserved him hitherto from making anactual declaration of love, was the consideration of her connections, andespecially of her mother, whom he could not abide. Had they lived at adistance, he might have surmounted the objection, but within two or threemilesofWoodforditwasreallynolightmatter.

‘You’vebeentocallontheWilsons,Lawrence,’saidI,asIwalkedbesidehispony.

‘Yes,’ repliedhe, slightlyavertinghis face: ‘I thought itbutcivil to take thefirst opportunity of returning their kind attentions, since they have been soveryparticularandconstantintheirinquiriesthroughoutthewholecourseofmyillness.’

‘It’sallMissWilson’sdoing.’

‘And if it is,’ returnedhe,with a veryperceptible blush, ‘is that any reasonwhyIshouldnotmakeasuitableacknowledgment?’

‘Itisareasonwhyyoushouldnotmaketheacknowledgmentshelooksfor.’

‘Letusdropthatsubjectifyouplease,’saidhe,inevidentdispleasure.

‘No,Lawrence,withyourleavewe’llcontinueitawhilelonger;andI’ll tellyou something, now we’re about it, which you may believe or not as youchoose—only please to remember that it is notmy custom to speak falsely,andthatinthiscaseIcanhavenomotiveformisrepresentingthetruth—’

‘Well,Markham,whatnow?’

‘MissWilsonhatesyoursister.Itmaybenaturalenoughthat,inherignoranceoftherelationship,sheshouldfeelsomedegreeofenmityagainsther,butno

good or amiable woman would be capable of evincing that bitter, cold-blooded,designingmalicetowardsafanciedrivalthatIhaveobservedinher.’

‘Markham!’

‘Yes—and it is my belief that Eliza Millward and she, if not the veryoriginators of the slanderous reports that have been propagated, weredesignedly the encouragers and chief disseminators of them. She was notdesiroustomixupyournameinthematter,ofcourse,butherdelightwas,andstill is, toblackenyoursister’scharacter totheutmostofherpower,withoutriskingtoogreatlytheexposureofherownmalevolence!’

‘I cannot believe it,’ interrupted my companion, his face burning withindignation.

‘Well,asIcannotproveit,Imustcontentmyselfwithassertingthatitissotothebestofmybelief;butasyouwouldnotwillinglymarryMissWilsonifitwere so, you will do well to be cautious, till you have proved it to beotherwise.’

‘Inever toldyou,Markham, that I intended tomarryMissWilson,’ saidhe,proudly.

‘No,butwhetheryoudoornot,sheintendstomarryyou.’

‘Didshetellyouso?’

‘No,but—’

‘Thenyouhavenorighttomakesuchanassertionrespectingher.’Heslightlyquickened his pony’s pace, but I laidmy hand on its mane, determined heshouldnotleavemeyet.

‘Waitamoment,Lawrence,andletmeexplainmyself;anddon’tbesovery—Idon’tknowwhattocallit—inaccessibleasyouare.—Iknowwhatyouthinkof Jane Wilson; and I believe I know how far you are mistaken in youropinion:you thinkshe issingularlycharming,elegant,sensible,andrefined:youarenotawarethatsheisselfish,cold-hearted,ambitious,artful,shallow-minded—’

‘Enough,Markham—enough!’

‘No; let me finish:—you don’t know that, if you married her, your homewouldberaylessandcomfortless;anditwouldbreakyourheartatlasttofindyourselfunitedtoonesowhollyincapableofsharingyourtastes,feelings,andideas—so utterly destitute of sensibility, good feeling, and true nobility ofsoul.’

‘Haveyoudone?’askedmycompanionquietly.

‘Yes;—I knowyou hateme formy impertinence, but I don’t care if it onlyconducestopreserveyoufromthatfatalmistake.’

‘Well!’returnedhe,witharatherwintrysmile—‘I’mgladyouhaveovercomeor forgottenyourownafflictions so far as tobe able to study sodeeply theaffairsofothers,andtroubleyourheadsounnecessarilyaboutthefanciedorpossiblecalamitiesoftheirfuturelife.’

Weparted—somewhatcoldlyagain:but stillwedidnotcease tobe friends;and my well-meant warning, though it might have been more judiciouslydelivered,aswellasmore thankfully received,wasnotwhollyunproductiveofthedesiredeffect:hisvisittotheWilsonswasnotrepeated,andthough,inoursubsequentinterviews,henevermentionedhernametome,norItohim,—Ihavereasontobelieveheponderedmywordsinhismind,eagerlythoughcovertly sought information respecting the fair lady from other quarters,secretlycomparedmycharacterofherwithwhathehadhimselfobservedandwhatheheardfromothers,andfinallycametotheconclusionthat,allthingsconsidered,shehadmuchbetterremainMissWilsonofRyecoteFarmthanbetransmutedintoMrs.LawrenceofWoodfordHall.Ibelieve,too,thathesoonlearnedtocontemplatewithsecretamazementhisformerpredilection,andtocongratulatehimselfontheluckyescapehehadmade;butheneverconfessedittome,orhintedonewordofacknowledgmentforthepartIhadhadinhisdeliverance,butthiswasnotsurprisingtoanyonethatknewhimasIdid.

As for JaneWilson, she, of course,was disappointed and embittered by thesuddencoldneglectandultimatedesertionofherformeradmirer.HadIdonewrongtoblighthercherishedhopes?Ithinknot;andcertainlymyconsciencehasneveraccusedme,fromthatdaytothis,ofanyevildesigninthematter.

CHAPTERXLVII

Onemorning, about the beginning ofNovember,while Iwas inditing somebusinessletters,shortlyafterbreakfast,ElizaMillwardcametocalluponmysister.RosehadneitherthediscriminationnorthevirulencetoregardthelittledemonasIdid,andtheystillpreservedtheirformerintimacy.Atthemomentofherarrival,however,therewasnooneintheroombutFergusandmyself,mymotherandsisterbeingbothofthemabsent,‘onhouseholdcaresintent’;butIwasnotgoingtolaymyselfoutforheramusement,whoeverelsemightsoincline:Imerelyhonouredherwithacarelesssalutationandafewwordsofcourse, and then went on with my writing, leaving my brother to be morepoliteifhechose.Butshewantedtoteaseme.

‘What a pleasure it is to find you at home,Mr.Markham!’ said she,with adisingenuously malicious smile. ‘I so seldom see you now, for you nevercome to the vicarage. Papa, is quite offended, I can tell you,’ she addedplayfully, looking into my face with an impertinent laugh, as she seatedherself,halfbesideandhalfbeforemydesk,offthecornerofthetable.

‘I have had a good deal to do of late,’ said I, without looking up frommyletter.

‘Haveyou, indeed! Somebodysaidyouhadbeen strangelyneglectingyourbusinesstheselastfewmonths.’

‘Somebody said wrong, for, these last two months especially, I have beenparticularlyploddinganddiligent.’

‘Ah!well, there’snothing likeactiveemployment, I suppose, toconsole theafflicted;—and,excuseme,Mr.Markham,butyoulooksoveryfarfromwell,and have been, by all accounts, so moody and thoughtful of late,—I couldalmost think youhave some secret care preyingon your spirits. Formerly,’said she timidly, ‘I could haveventured to askyouwhat itwas, andwhat Icoulddotocomfortyou:Idarenotdoitnow.’

‘You’reverykind,MissEliza.WhenIthinkyoucandoanythingtocomfortme,I’llmakeboldtotellyou.’

‘Praydo!—IsupposeImayn’tguesswhatitisthattroublesyou?’

‘There’snonecessity,forI’lltellyouplainly.Thethingthattroublesmethemostatpresentisayoungladysittingatmyelbow,andpreventingmefromfinishingmyletter,and,thereafter,repairingtomydailybusiness.’

Before shecould reply to thisungallant speech,Roseentered the room;andMissElizarisingtogreether,theybothseatedthemselvesnearthefire,wherethatidleladFerguswasstanding,leaninghisshoulderagainstthecornerofthechimney-piece,withhislegscrossedandhishandsinhisbreeches-pockets.

‘Now,Rose,I’lltellyouapieceofnews—Ihopeyouhavenothearditbefore:forgood,bad,orindifferent,onealwayslikestobethefirsttotell.It’saboutthatsadMrs.Graham—’

‘Hush-sh-sh!’ whispered Fergus, in a tone of solemn import. ‘“We nevermentionher;hernameisneverheard.”’Andglancingup,Icaughthimwithhiseyeaskanceonme,andhisfingerpointedtohisforehead;then,winkingatthe young lady with a doleful shake of the head, be whispered—‘Amonomania—butdon’tmentionit—allrightbutthat.’

‘Ishouldbesorrytoinjureanyone’sfeelings,’returnedshe,speakingbelowherbreath.‘Anothertime,perhaps.’

‘Speakout,MissEliza!’saidI,notdeigningtonoticetheother’sbuffooneries:‘youneedn’tfeartosayanythinginmypresence.’

‘Well,’answeredshe,‘perhapsyouknowalreadythatMrs.Graham’shusbandisnotreallydead,andthatshehadrunawayfromhim?’Istarted,andfeltmyface glow; but I bent it over my letter, and went on folding it up as sheproceeded.‘Butperhapsyoudidnotknowthatsheisnowgonebacktohimagain,and thataperfect reconciliationhas takenplacebetweenthem?Onlythink,’ shecontinued, turning to theconfoundedRose, ‘whata fool themanmustbe!’

‘Andwhogaveyouthispieceofintelligence,MissEliza?’saidI,interruptingmysister’sexclamations.

‘Ihaditfromaveryauthenticsource.’

‘Fromwhom,mayIask?’

‘FromoneoftheservantsatWoodford.’

‘Oh! I was not aware that you were on such intimate terms with Mr.Lawrence’shousehold.’

‘ItwasnotfromthemanhimselfthatIheardit,buthetolditinconfidencetoourmaidSarah,andSarahtoldittome.’

‘Inconfidence,Isuppose?Andyoutellitinconfidencetous?ButIcantellyouthatitisbutalamestoryafterall,andscarcelyone-halfofittrue.’

While I spoke I completed the sealing and direction of my letters, with asomewhatunsteadyhand,inspiteofallmyeffortstoretaincomposure,andinspiteofmyfirmconvictionthatthestorywasalameone—thatthesupposedMrs.Graham,mostcertainly,hadnotvoluntarilygonebacktoherhusband,ordreamt of a reconciliation. Most likely she was gone away, and the tale-bearing servant, not knowingwhatwas becomeof her, had conjectured thatsuchwasthecase,andourfairvisitorhaddetaileditasacertainty,delightedwith such an opportunity of tormenting me. But it was possible—barelypossible—that some one might have betrayed her, and she had been takenaway by force. Determined to know the worst, I hastily pocketedmy twoletters,andmutteredsomethingaboutbeingtoolateforthepost,lefttheroom,rushed into the yard, and vociferously called for my horse. No one beingthere, I dragged him out of the stablemyself, strapped the saddle on to hisbackand thebridleon tohishead,mounted, and speedilygallopedaway toWoodford.Ifounditsownerpensivelystrollinginthegrounds.

‘Isyoursistergone?’weremyfirstwordsasIgraspedhishand,insteadoftheusualinquiryafterhishealth.

‘Yes,she’sgone,’washisanswer,socalmlyspokenthatmyterrorwasatonceremoved.

‘I suppose I mayn’t know where she is?’ said I, as I dismounted, andrelinquishedmyhorsetothegardener,who,beingtheonlyservantwithincall,had been summoned by his master, from his employment of raking up thedeadleavesonthelawn,totakehimtothestables.

Mycompaniongravelytookmyarm,andleadingmeawaytothegarden,thusansweredmyquestion,—‘SheisatGrassdaleManor,in—shire.’

‘Where?’criedI,withaconvulsivestart.

‘AtGrassdaleManor.’

‘Howwasit?’Igasped.‘Whobetrayedher?’

‘Shewentofherownaccord.’

‘Impossible,Lawrence!Shecouldnotbesofrantic!’exclaimedI,vehementlygraspinghisarm,asiftoforcehimtounsaythosehatefulwords.

‘Shedid,’persistedheinthesamegrave,collectedmannerasbefore;‘andnotwithout reason,’ he continued, gently disengaging himself from my grasp.‘Mr.Huntingdonisill.’

‘Andsoshewenttonursehim?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fool!’ I could not help exclaiming, and Lawrence looked upwith a ratherreproachfulglance.‘Ishedying,then?’

‘Ithinknot,Markham.’

‘Andhowmanymorenurseshashe? Howmanyladiesare therebesides totakecareofhim?’

‘None;hewasalone,orshewouldnothavegone.’

‘Oh,confoundit!Thisisintolerable!’

‘Whatis?Thatheshouldbealone?’

Iattemptednoreply, for Iwasnotsure that thiscircumstancedidnotpartlyconduce tomy distraction. I therefore continued to pace thewalk in silentanguish, withmy hand pressed tomy forehead; then suddenly pausing andturning to my companion, I impatiently exclaimed, ‘Why did she take thisinfatuatedstep?Whatfiendpersuadedhertoit?’

‘Nothingpersuadedherbutherownsenseofduty.’

‘Humbug!’

‘Iwashalf inclinedtosaysomyself,Markham,atfirst. Iassureyouitwasnotbymyadvicethatshewent,forIdetestthatmanasferventlyasyoucando,—except, indeed, that his reformation would give me much greaterpleasurethanhisdeath;butallIdidwastoinformherofthecircumstanceofhisillness(theconsequenceofafallfromhishorseinhunting),andtotellherthatthatunhappyperson,MissMyers,hadlefthimsometimeago.’

‘Itwasilldone!Now,whenhefindstheconvenienceofherpresence,hewillmakeallmanneroflyingspeechesandfalse,fairpromisesforthefuture,andshewillbelievehim,and thenherconditionwillbe ten timesworseand tentimesmoreirremediablethanbefore.’

‘Theredoesnotappeartobemuchgroundforsuchapprehensionsatpresent,’saidhe,producingaletterfromhispocket.‘FromtheaccountIreceivedthismorning,Ishouldsay—’

Itwas herwriting! By an irresistible impulse I held outmy hand, and thewords, ‘Let me see it,’ involuntarily passed my lips. He was evidentlyreluctant to grant the request, but while he hesitated I snatched it from hishand.Recollectingmyself,however,theminuteafter,Iofferedtorestoreit.

‘Here,takeit,’saidI,‘ifyoudon’twantmetoreadit.’

‘No,’repliedhe,‘youmayreaditifyoulike.’

Ireadit,andsomayyou.

Grassdale,Nov.4th.

DEARFREDERICK,—Iknowyouwillbeanxioustohearfromme,andIwill tellyouallIcan.Mr.Huntingdonisveryill,butnotdying,orinanyimmediatedanger;andheisratherbetteratpresentthanhewaswhenIcame.Ifoundthehouseinsadconfusion:Mrs.Greaves,Benson,everydecentservanthadleft,and those thatwerecome tosupply theirplaceswereanegligent,disorderlyset, to say no worse—Imust change them again, if I stay. A professionalnurse,agrim,hardoldwoman,hadbeenhiredtoattendthewretchedinvalid.He suffersmuch, andhasno fortitude tobearhim through. The immediateinjuries he sustained from the accident, however,were not very severe, andwould,asthedoctorsays,havebeenbuttriflingtoamanoftemperatehabits,but with him it is very different. On the night of my arrival, when I firstenteredhisroom,hewaslyinginakindofhalfdelirium.HedidnotnoticemetillIspoke,andthenhemistookmeforanother.

‘Isityou,Alice,comeagain?’hemurmured.‘Whatdidyouleavemefor?’

‘ItisI,Arthur—itisHelen,yourwife,’Ireplied.

‘Mywife!’ said he, with a start. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’tmention her—Ihavenone.Deviltakeher,’hecried,amomentafter,‘andyou,too!Whatdidyoudoitfor?’

Isaidnomore;butobservingthathekeptgazingtowardsthefootofthebed,Iwentandsatthere,placingthelightsoastoshinefulluponme,forIthoughthemight be dying, and Iwanted him to knowme. For a long time he laysilently lookinguponme,firstwithavacantstare, thenwithafixedgazeofstrangegrowingintensity.Atlasthestartledmebysuddenlyraisinghimselfonhiselbowanddemanding inahorrifiedwhisper,withhiseyes still fixeduponme,‘Whoisit?’

‘ItisHelenHuntingdon,’saidI,quietlyrisingatthesametime,andremovingtoalessconspicuousposition.

‘Imustbegoingmad,’criedhe,‘orsomething—delirious,perhaps;butleaveme,whoeveryouare.Ican’tbearthatwhiteface,andthoseeyes.ForGod’ssakego,andsendmesomebodyelsethatdoesn’tlooklikethat!’

Iwentatonce,andsentthehirednurse;butnextmorningIventuredtoenterhischamberagain,and,takingthenurse’splacebyhisbedside,Iwatchedhimandwaitedonhimforseveralhours,showingmyselfaslittleaspossible,andonly speaking when necessary, and then not above my breath. At first headdressed me as the nurse, but, on my crossing the room to draw up thewindow-blinds,inobediencetohisdirections,hesaid,‘No,itisn’tnurse;it’sAlice.Staywithme,do!Thatoldhagwillbethedeathofme.’

‘Imean tostaywithyou,’said I. Andafter thathewouldcallmeAlice,orsomeothernamealmostequallyrepugnanttomyfeelings.Iforcedmyselftoendureitforawhile,fearingacontradictionmightdisturbhimtoomuch;butwhen, having asked for a glass of water, while I held it to his lips, hemurmured, ‘Thanks, dearest!’ I could not help distinctly observing, ‘Youwouldnot say so if youknewme,’ intending to follow thatupwith anotherdeclarationofmy identity; but hemerelymuttered an incoherent reply, so Idroppeditagain,tillsometimeafter,when,asIwasbathinghisforeheadandtempleswith vinegar andwater to relieve the heat and pain in his head, heobserved, after looking earnestly upon me for some minutes, ‘I have suchstrange fancies—Ican’tget ridof them,and theywon’t letme rest; and themostsingularandpertinaciousofthemallisyourfaceandvoice—theyseemjustlikehers.Icouldswearatthismomentthatshewasbymyside.’

‘Sheis,’saidI.

‘That seems comfortable,’ continued he, without noticing my words; ‘andwhileyoudoit,theotherfanciesfadeaway—butthisonlystrengthens.—Goon—goon,tillitvanishes,too.Ican’tstandsuchamaniaasthis;itwouldkill

me!’

‘Itneverwillvanish,’saidI,distinctly,‘foritisthetruth!’

‘Thetruth!’hecried,starting,asifanasphadstunghim.‘Youdon’tmeantosaythatyouarereallyshe?’

‘Ido;butyouneedn’tshrinkawayfromme,asifIwereyourgreatestenemy:Iamcometotakecareofyou,anddowhatnoneofthemwoulddo.’

‘ForGod’s sake, don’t tormentme now!’ cried he in pitiable agitation; andthenhebegan tomutterbittercursesagainstme,or theevil fortune thathadbroughtme there;while I put down the sponge and basin, and resumedmyseatatthebed-side.

‘Wherearethey?’saidhe:‘havetheyallleftme—servantsandall?’

‘Thereareservantswithincallifyouwantthem;butyouhadbetterliedownnowandbequiet:noneof themcouldorwouldattendyouascarefullyas Ishalldo.’

‘Ican’tunderstanditatall,’saidhe,inbewilderedperplexity.‘Wasitadreamthat—‘ and he covered his eyes with his hands, as if trying to unravel themystery.

‘No,Arthur,itwasnotadream,thatyourconductwassuchastoobligemetoleaveyou;butIheardthatyouwereillandalone,andIamcomebacktonurseyou. Youneednot fear to trustme: tellmeallyourwants,andIwill try tosatisfythem.Thereisnooneelsetocareforyou;andIshallnotupbraidyounow.’

‘Oh! I see,’ said he, with a bitter smile; ‘it’s an act of Christian charity,wherebyyouhope togainahigher seat inheaven foryourself, and scoopadeeperpitinhellforme.’

‘No;Icametoofferyouthatcomfortandassistanceyoursituationrequired;andifIcouldbenefityoursoulaswellasyourbody,andawakensomesenseofcontritionand—’

‘Oh, yes; if you could overwhelmme with remorse and confusion of face,now’sthetime.Whathaveyoudonewithmyson?’

‘Heiswell,andyoumayseehimsometime,ifyouwillcomposeyourself,butnotnow.’

‘Whereishe?’

‘Heissafe.’

‘Ishehere?’

‘Wherever he is, youwill not see him till you have promised to leave himentirelyundermycareandprotection,andtoletmetakehimawaywheneverandwhereverIplease,ifIshouldhereafterjudgeitnecessarytoremovehimagain.Butwewilltalkofthatto-morrow:youmustbequietnow.’

‘No,letmeseehimnow,Ipromise,ifitmustbeso.’

‘No—’

‘Iswearit,asGodisinheaven!Now,then,letmeseehim.’

‘ButIcannottrustyouroathsandpromises:Imusthaveawrittenagreement,andyoumustsignitinpresenceofawitness:butnotto-day—to-morrow.’

‘No, to-day; now,’ persisted he: and he was in such a state of feverishexcitement, and so bent upon the immediate gratification of hiswish, that Ithoughtitbettertograntitatonce,asIsawhewouldnotresttillIdid.ButIwasdeterminedmyson’sinterestshouldnotbeforgotten;andhavingclearlywrittenoutthepromiseIwishedMr.Huntingdontogiveuponaslipofpaper,I deliberately read it over to him, andmade him sign it in the presence ofRachel.HebeggedIwouldnotinsistuponthis:itwasauselessexposureofmywantoffaithinhiswordtotheservant.ItoldhimIwassorry,butsincehe had forfeited my confidence, he must take the consequence. He nextpleadedinabilitytoholdthepen.‘Thenwemustwaituntilyoucanholdit,’saidI.Uponwhichhesaidhewouldtry;butthenhecouldnotseetowrite.Iplacedmyfingerwherethesignaturewastobe,andtoldhimhemightwritehisnameinthedark,ifheonlyknewwheretoputit.Buthehadnotpowertoformtheletters.‘Inthatcase,youmustbetooilltoseethechild,’saidI;andfindingme inexorable, he at lengthmanaged to ratify the agreement; and IbadeRachelsendtheboy.

All this may strike you as harsh, but I felt I must not lose my presentadvantage, and my son’s future welfare should not be sacrificed to anymistaken tenderness for thisman’s feelings. LittleArthur hadnot forgottenhisfather,but thirteenmonthsofabsence,duringwhichhehadseldombeenpermitted to hear a word about him, or hardly to whisper his name, hadrenderedhimsomewhatshy;andwhenhewasusheredintothedarkenedroomwherethesickmanlay,soalteredfromhisformerself,withfiercelyflushedface and wildly-gleaming eyes—he instinctively clung to me, and stoodlooking on his father with a countenance expressive of far more awe thanpleasure.

‘Come here, Arthur,’ said the latter, extending his hand towards him. Thechildwent,andtimidlytouchedthatburninghand,butalmoststartedinalarm,whenhisfathersuddenlyclutchedhisarmanddrewhimnearertohisside.

‘Doyouknowme?’askedMr.Huntingdon,intentlyperusinghisfeatures.

‘Yes.’

‘WhoamI?’

‘Papa.’

‘Areyougladtoseeme?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’renot!’repliedthedisappointedparent,relaxinghishold,anddartingavindictiveglanceatme.

Arthur, thusreleased,creptbacktomeandputhishandinmine. HisfathersworeIhadmadethechildhatehim,andabusedandcursedmebitterly.Theinstant he began I sent our son out of the room; and when he paused tobreathe,Icalmlyassuredhimthathewasentirelymistaken;Ihadneveronceattemptedtoprejudicehischildagainsthim.

‘I did indeed desire him to forget you,’ I said, ‘and especially to forget thelessons you taught him; and for that cause, and to lessen the danger ofdiscovery, I own I have generally discouraged his inclination to talk aboutyou;butnoonecanblamemeforthat,Ithink.’

Theinvalidonlyrepliedbygroaningaloud,androllinghisheadonapillowinaparoxysmofimpatience.

‘I am in hell, already!’ cried he. ‘This cursed thirst is burningmy heart toashes!Willnobody—?’

Before he could finish the sentence I had poured out a glass of someacidulated, cooling drink that was on the table, and brought it to him. Hedrank itgreedily,butmuttered,as I tookaway theglass,—‘Isupposeyou’reheapingcoalsoffireonmyhead,youthink?’

Notnoticingthisspeech,IaskediftherewasanythingelseIcoulddoforhim.

‘Yes; I’ll give you another opportunity of showing your Christianmagnanimity,’sneeredhe:‘setmypillowstraight,andtheseconfoundedbed-clothes.’ I did so. ‘There: now get me another glass of that slop.’ Icomplied.‘Thisisdelightful,isn’tit?’saidhewithamaliciousgrin,asIheldittohislips;‘youneverhopedforsuchagloriousopportunity?’

‘Now,shall I staywithyou?’ said I, as I replaced theglasson the table: ‘orwillyoubemorequietifIgoandsendthenurse?’

‘Oh,yes,you’rewondrousgentleandobliging! Butyou’vedrivenmemadwithitall!’respondedhe,withanimpatienttoss.

‘I’llleaveyou,then,’saidI;andIwithdrew,anddidnottroublehimwithmypresenceagainthatday,exceptforaminuteortwoatatime,justtoseehowhewasandwhathewanted.

Nextmorningthedoctororderedhimtobebled;andafter thathewasmoresubduedandtranquil.Ipassedhalfthedayinhisroomatdifferentintervals.My presence did not appear to agitate or irritate him as before, and heacceptedmyservicesquietly,withoutanybitterremarks: indeed,hescarcelyspoke at all, except tomakeknownhiswants, andhardly then. But on themorrow, that is to say, in proportion as he recovered from the state ofexhaustionandstupefaction,hisill-natureappearedtorevive.

‘Oh,thissweetrevenge!’criedhe,whenIhadbeendoingallIcouldtomakehimcomfortableand toremedythecarelessnessofhisnurse. ‘Andyoucanenjoyitwithsuchaquietconsciencetoo,becauseit’sallinthewayofduty.’

‘ItiswellformethatIamdoingmyduty,’saidI,withabitternessIcouldnotrepress, ‘for it is the only comfort I have; and the satisfaction of my ownconscience,itseems,istheonlyrewardIneedlookfor!’

Helookedrathersurprisedattheearnestnessofmymanner.

‘Whatrewarddidyoulookfor?’heasked.

‘YouwillthinkmealiarifItellyou;butIdidhopetobenefityou:aswelltobetteryourmindastoalleviateyourpresentsufferings;butitappearsIamtodoneither;yourownbadspiritwillnotletme.Asfarasyouareconcerned,Ihavesacrificedmyownfeelings,andallthelittleearthlycomfortthatwasleftme, to no purpose; and every little thing I do for you is ascribed to self-righteousmaliceandrefinedrevenge!’

‘It’sallveryfine,Idaresay,’saidhe,eyeingmewithstupidamazement;‘andofcourseIoughttobemeltedtotearsofpenitenceandadmirationatthesightofsomuchgenerosityandsuperhumangoodness;butyouseeIcan’tmanageit. However, pray do me all the good you can, if you do really find anypleasureinit;foryouperceiveIamalmostasmiserablejustnowasyouneedwishtoseeme.Sinceyoucame,Iconfess,Ihavehadbetterattendancethanbefore, for these wretches neglectedme shamefully, and all my old friendsseemtohavefairlyforsakenme.I’vehadadreadfultimeofit,Iassureyou:IsometimesthoughtIshouldhavedied:doyouthinkthere’sanychance?’

‘There’s alwaysa chanceofdeath; and it is alwayswell to livewith suchachanceinview.’

‘Yes,yes!butdoyouthinkthere’sanylikelihoodthatthisillnesswillhaveafataltermination?’

‘I cannot tell; but, supposing it should, how are you prepared to meet theevent?’

‘Why,thedoctortoldmeIwasn’ttothinkaboutit,forIwassuretogetbetterifIstucktohisregimenandprescriptions.’

‘Ihopeyoumay,Arthur;butneitherthedoctornorIcanspeakwithcertaintyin such a case; there is internal injury, and it is difficult to know to whatextent.’

‘Therenow!youwanttoscaremetodeath.’

‘No;but Idon’twant to lullyou to falsesecurity. Ifaconsciousnessof theuncertaintyoflifecandisposeyoutoseriousandusefulthoughts,Iwouldnotdeprive you of the benefit of such reflections, whether you do eventuallyrecoverornot.Doestheideaofdeathappalyouverymuch?’

‘It’sjusttheonlythingIcan’tbeartothinkof;soifyou’veany—’

‘Butitmustcomesometime,’interruptedI,‘andifitbeyearshence,itwillascertainlyovertakeyouas if itcame to-day,—andnodoubtbeasunwelcomethenasnow,unlessyou—’

‘Oh,hangit!don’ttormentmewithyourpreachmentsnow,unlessyouwanttokillmeoutright. I can’t stand it, I tellyou. I’ve sufferingsenoughwithoutthat. Ifyouthinkthere’sdanger,savemefromit;andthen,ingratitude,I’llhearwhateveryouliketosay.’

I accordingly dropped the unwelcome topic. And now, Frederick, I think Imaybringmy letter toaclose. From thesedetailsyoumayformyourownjudgment of the state of my patient, and of my own position and futureprospects.Letmehearfromyousoon,andIwillwriteagaintotellyouhowweget on; but now thatmypresence is tolerated, and even required, in thesick-room, I shallhavebut little time to sparebetweenmyhusbandandmyson,—for Imust not entirelyneglect the latter: itwouldnotdo tokeephimalwayswithRachel, and Idarenot leavehimforamomentwithanyof theother servants, or suffer him to be alone, lest he shouldmeet them. If hisfathergetworse,IshallaskEstherHargravetotakechargeofhimforatime,tillIhavereorganisedthehouseholdatleast;butIgreatlypreferkeepinghimundermyowneye.

Ifindmyselfinratherasingularposition:Iamexertingmyutmostendeavoursto promote the recovery and reformation of my husband, and if I succeed,whatshallIdo?Myduty,ofcourse,—buthow?Nomatter;Icanperformthetaskthatisbeforemenow,andGodwillgivemestrengthtodowhateverHerequireshereafter.Good-by,dearFrederick.

HELENHUNTINGDON.

‘Whatdoyouthinkofit?’saidLawrence,asIsilentlyrefoldedtheletter.

‘Itseemstome,’returnedI,‘thatsheiscastingherpearlsbeforeswine.Maytheybesatisfiedwithtramplingthemundertheirfeet,andnotturnagainandrendher!ButIshallsaynomoreagainsther:Iseethatshewasactuatedbythebestandnoblestmotivesinwhatshehasdone;andiftheactisnotawiseone,mayheavenprotecther from its consequences! May Ikeep this letter,Lawrence?—youseeshehasneveroncementionedmethroughout—ormadethemostdistantallusiontome;therefore,therecanbenoimproprietyorharminit.’

‘And,therefore,whyshouldyouwishtokeepit?’

‘Were not these characters written by her hand? and were not these wordsconceivedinhermind,andmanyofthemspokenbyherlips?’

‘Well,’ saidhe. And so I kept it; otherwise,Halford, you couldnever havebecomesothoroughlyacquaintedwithitscontents.

‘Andwhenyouwrite,’saidI,‘willyouhavethegoodnesstoaskherifImaybe permitted to enlighten my mother and sister on her real history andcircumstance, justsofaras isnecessary tomaketheneighbourhoodsensibleoftheshamefulinjusticetheyhavedoneher?Iwantnotendermessages,butjustaskherthat,andtellheritisthegreatestfavourshecoulddome;andtellher—no,nothingmore.YouseeIknowtheaddress,andImightwritetohermyself,butIamsovirtuousastorefrain.’

‘Well,I’lldothisforyou,Markham.’

‘Andassoonasyoureceiveananswer,you’llletmeknow?’

‘Ifallbewell,I’llcomemyselfandtellyouimmediately.’

CHAPTERXLVIII

FiveorsixdaysafterthisMr.Lawrencepaidusthehonourofacall;andwhenhe and I were alone together—which I contrived as soon as possible bybringinghimouttolookatmycornstacks—heshowedmeanotherletterfromhis sister. This one hewas quitewilling to submit tomy longing gaze; hethought, I suppose, it would do me good. The only answer it gave to mymessagewasthis:—

‘Mr. Markham is at liberty to make such revelations concerning me as he

judgesnecessary.HewillknowthatIshouldwishbutlittletobesaidonthesubject.Ihopeheiswell;buttellhimhemustnotthinkofme.’

Icangiveyouafewextractsfromtherestoftheletter,forIwaspermittedtokeepthisalso—perhaps,asanantidotetoallpernicioushopesandfancies.

Heisdecidedlybetter,butverylowfromthedepressingeffectsofhissevereillnessandthestrictregimenheisobligedtoobserve—sooppositetoallhisprevious habits. It is deplorable to see how completely his past life hasdegeneratedhisoncenobleconstitution,andvitiatedthewholesystemofhisorganization.Butthedoctorsayshemaynowbeconsideredoutofdanger,ifhewillonlycontinuetoobservethenecessaryrestrictions.Somestimulatingcordials hemust have, but they should be judiciously diluted and sparinglyused;andIfinditverydifficulttokeephimtothis.Atfirst,hisextremedreadofdeathrenderedthetaskaneasyone;butinproportionashefeelshisacutesuffering abating, and sees the danger receding, the more intractable hebecomes. Now, also, his appetite for food is beginning to return; and here,too, his long habits of self-indulgence are greatly against him. Iwatch andrestrain him as well as I can, and often get bitterly abused for my rigidseverity; and sometimes he contrives to eludemy vigilance, and sometimesactsinoppositiontomywill.ButheisnowsocompletelyreconciledtomyattendanceingeneralthatheisneversatisfiedwhenIamnotbyhisside.Iamobligedtobealittlestiffwithhimsometimes,orhewouldmakeacompleteslave ofme; and I know itwould be unpardonableweakness to give up allotherinterestsforhim.Ihavetheservantstooverlook,andmylittleArthurtoattendto,—andmyownhealth too,allofwhichwouldbeentirelyneglectedwereItosatisfyhisexorbitantdemands.Idonotgenerallysitupatnight,forI think the nurse who has made it her business is better qualified for suchundertakings than I am;—but still, an unbroken night’s rest is what I butseldomenjoy,andnevercanventuretoreckonupon;formypatientmakesnoscrupleofcallingmeupatanhourwhenhiswantsorhisfanciesrequiremypresence.Butheismanifestlyafraidofmydispleasure;andifatonetimehetriesmy patience by his unreasonable exactions, and fretful complaints andreproaches, at another he depresses me by his abject submission anddeprecatoryself-abasementwhenhefearshehasgonetoofar. Butall thisIcanreadilypardon;Iknowit ischieflytheresultofhisenfeebledframeanddisordered nerves. What annoysme themost, is his occasional attempts ataffectionatefondness thatIcanneithercreditnorreturn;not thatIhatehim:hissufferingsandmyownlaboriouscarehavegivenhimsomeclaimtomyregard—to my affection even, if he would only be quiet and sincere, andcontenttoletthingsremainastheyare;butthemorehetriestoconciliateme,themoreIshrinkfromhimandfromthefuture.

‘Helen,what do youmean to dowhen I getwell?’ he asked thismorning.

‘Willyourunawayagain?’

‘Itentirelydependsuponyourownconduct.’

‘Oh,I’llbeverygood.’

‘But if I find it necessary to leave you,Arthur, I shall not “run away”: youknowIhaveyourownpromisethatImaygowheneverIplease,andtakemysonwithme.’

‘Oh,butyoushallhavenocause.’Andthenfollowedavarietyofprofessions,whichIrathercoldlychecked.

‘Willyounotforgiveme,then?’saidhe.

‘Yes,—Ihaveforgivenyou:butIknowyoucannotlovemeasyouoncedid—andIshouldbeverysorryifyouwereto,forIcouldnotpretendtoreturnit:soletusdropthesubject,andneverrecurtoitagain.BywhatIhavedoneforyou, you may judge of what I will do—if it be not incompatible with thehigher duty I owe tomy son (higher, because he never forfeited his claims,andbecauseIhopetodomoregoodtohimthanIcaneverdotoyou);andifyouwishme to feel kindly towards you, it is deeds notwordswhichmustpurchasemyaffectionandesteem.’

Hissolereplytothiswasaslightgrimace,andascarcelyperceptibleshrug.Alas,unhappyman!words,withhim,aresomuchcheaperthandeeds;itwasasifIhadsaid,‘Pounds,notpence,mustbuythearticleyouwant.’Andthenhesighedaquerulous,self-commiseratingsigh,asifinpureregretthathe,thelovedandcourtedofsomanyworshippers,shouldbenowabandonedto themercy of a harsh, exacting, cold-heartedwoman like that, and even glad ofwhatkindnessshechosetobestow.

‘It’sapity, isn’t it?’saidI;andwhetherIrightlydivinedhismusingsornot,the observation chimed in with his thoughts, for he answered—‘It can’t behelped,’witharuefulsmileatmypenetration.

IhaveseenEstherHargravetwice.Sheisacharmingcreature,butherblithespirit is almost broken, and her sweet temper almost spoiled, by the stillunremitting persecutions of hermother in behalf of her rejected suitor—notviolent, but wearisome and unremitting like a continual dropping. Theunnaturalparentseemsdeterminedtomakeherdaughter’slifeaburden,ifshewillnotyieldtoherdesires.

‘Mammadoes all she can,’ said she, ‘tomakeme feelmyself a burden andincumbrance to the family, and the most ungrateful, selfish, and undutifuldaughterthateverwasborn;andWalter,too,isassternandcoldandhaughtyas if hehatedmeoutright. I believe I shouldhaveyielded at once if I had

known, from the beginning, howmuch resistance would have cost me; butnow,forveryobstinacy’ssake,Iwillstandout!’

‘Abadmotive for a good resolve,’ I answered. ‘But, however, I knowyouhavebettermotives,really,foryourperseverance:andIcounselyoutokeepthemstillinview.’

‘TrustmeIwill.IthreatenmammasometimesthatI’llrunaway,anddisgracethefamilybyearningmyownlivelihood, ifshe tormentsmeanymore;andthenthatfrightensheralittle. ButIwilldoit,ingoodearnest,iftheydon’tmind.’

‘Bequietandpatientawhile,’saidI,‘andbettertimeswillcome.’

Poorgirl!Iwishsomebodythatwasworthytopossessherwouldcomeandtakeheraway—don’tyou,Frederick?

If theperusalof this letter filledmewithdismay forHelen’s future life andmine, therewasonegreatsourceofconsolation: itwasnowinmypower toclear her name from every foul aspersion. TheMillwards and theWilsonsshould seewith theirowneyes thebright sunbursting from thecloud—andtheyshouldbescorchedanddazzledbyitsbeams;—andmyownfriendstooshould see it—theywhose suspicions had been such gall andwormwood tomy soul. To effect this I had only to drop the seed into the ground, and itwouldsoonbecomeastately,branchingherb:afewwordstomymotherandsister, I knew, would suffice to spread the news throughout the wholeneighbourhood,withoutanyfurtherexertiononmypart.

Rosewasdelighted;andassoonasIhadtoldherallIthoughtproper—whichwasall I affected toknow—she flewwithalacrity toputonherbonnet andshawl,andhastentocarrythegladtidingstotheMillwardsandWilsons—gladtidings, I suspect, to none but herself and Mary Millward—that steady,sensible girl, whose sterlingworth had been so quickly perceived and dulyvaluedbythesupposedMrs.Graham,inspiteofherplainoutside;andwho,onherpart,hadbeenbetterabletoseeandappreciatethatlady’struecharacterandqualitiesthanthebrightestgeniusamongthem.

As Imaynever have occasion tomention her again, Imay aswell tell youherethatshewasatthistimeprivatelyengagedtoRichardWilson—asecret,Ibelieve, to every one but themselves. That worthy student was now atCambridge,wherehismostexemplaryconductandhisdiligentperseverancein thepursuitof learningcarriedhimsafely through,andeventuallybroughthimwithhard-earnedhonours,andanuntarnishedreputation, to thecloseofhis collegiate career. In due time he becameMr.Millward’s first and onlycurate—forthatgentleman’sdecliningyearsforcedhimatlasttoacknowledgethatthedutiesofhisextensiveparishwerealittletoomuchforthosevaunted

energieswhichhewaswonttoboastoverhisyoungerandlessactivebrethrenofthecloth.Thiswaswhatthepatient,faithfullovershadprivatelyplannedand quietly waited for years ago; and in due time they were united, to theastonishment of the little world they lived in, that had long since declaredthem both born to single blessedness; affirming it impossible that the pale,retiringbookwormshouldeversummoncouragetoseekawife,orbeabletoobtain one if he did, and equally impossible that the plain-looking, plain-dealing, unattractive, unconciliating Miss Millward should ever find ahusband.

Theystillcontinuedtoliveatthevicarage,theladydividinghertimebetweenher father, her husband, and their poor parishioners,—and subsequently herrisingfamily;andnowthattheReverendMichaelMillwardhasbeengatheredto his fathers, full of years and honours, the Reverend RichardWilson hassucceededhimtothevicarageofLinden-hope,greatlytothesatisfactionofitsinhabitants,whohadsolongtriedandfullyprovedhismerits,andthoseofhisexcellentandwell-lovedpartner.

Ifyouareinterestedintheafterfateofthatlady’ssister,Icanonlytellyou—what perhaps you have heard from another quarter—that some twelve orthirteenyearsagosherelievedthehappycoupleofherpresencebymarryingawealthytradesmanofL—;andIdon’tenvyhimhisbargain.Ifearsheleadshimaratheruncomfortablelife,though,happily,heistoodulltoperceivetheextentofhismisfortune.Ihavelittleenoughtodowithhermyself:wehavenotmet formanyyears;but, Iamwellassured, shehasnotyet forgottenorforgiven either her former lover, or the lady whose superior qualities firstopenedhiseyestothefollyofhisboyishattachment.

As forRichardWilson’s sister, she, havingbeenwholly unable to recaptureMr.Lawrence,orobtainanypartnerrichandelegantenoughtosuitherideasofwhatthehusbandofJaneWilsonoughttobe,isyetinsingleblessedness.Shortlyafter thedeathofhermother shewithdrew the lightofherpresencefrom Ryecote Farm, finding it impossible any longer to endure the roughmanners and unsophisticated habits of her honest brother Robert and hisworthywife,ortheideaofbeingidentifiedwithsuchvulgarpeopleintheeyesof theworld,and took lodgings in—thecounty town,whereshe lived,andstill lives, I suppose, in a kindof close-fisted, cold, uncomfortable gentility,doingnogoodtoothers,andbutlittletoherself;spendingherdaysinfancy-work and scandal; referring frequently to her ‘brother the vicar,’ and her‘sister,thevicar’slady,’butnevertoherbrotherthefarmerandhersisterthefarmer’swife;seeingasmuchcompanyasshecanwithouttoomuchexpense,butlovingnooneandbelovedbynone—acold-hearted,supercilious,keenly,insidiouslycensoriousoldmaid.

CHAPTERXLIX

Though Mr. Lawrence’s health was now quite re-established, my visits toWoodford were as unremitting as ever; though often less protracted thanbefore. We seldom talked about Mrs. Huntingdon; but yet we never metwithoutmentioningher,forIneversoughthiscompanybutwiththehopeofhearingsomethingabouther,andheneversoughtmineatall,becausehesawme often enoughwithout. But I always began to talk of other things, andwaited first to see ifhewould introduce the subject. Ifhedidnot, Iwouldcasually ask, ‘Haveyouheard fromyour sister lately?’ If he said ‘No,’ thematterwasdropped:ifhesaid‘Yes,’Iwouldventuretoinquire,‘Howisshe?’butnever‘Howisherhusband?’thoughImightbeburningtoknow;becauseIhadnotthehypocrisytoprofessanyanxietyforhisrecovery,andIhadnotthefacetoexpressanydesireforacontraryresult.HadIanysuchdesire?—IfearImustpleadguilty;butsinceyouhaveheardmyconfession,youmusthearmyjustificationaswell—afewoftheexcuses,atleast,wherewithIsoughttopacifymyownaccusingconscience.

Inthefirstplace,yousee,hislifedidharmtoothers,andevidentlynogoodtohimself; and though Iwished it to terminate, Iwould not have hastened itsclose if, by the lifting of a finger, I could have done so, or if a spirit hadwhisperedinmyearthatasingleeffortofthewillwouldbeenough,—unless,indeed,Ihadthepowertoexchangehimforsomeothervictimofthegrave,whoselifemightbeofservicetohisrace,andwhosedeathwouldbelamentedby his friends. But was there any harm in wishing that, among the manythousandswhose soulswould certainly be required of them before the yearwasover, thiswretchedmortalmightbeone? I thoughtnot;and thereforeIwishedwithallmyheartthatitmightpleaseheaventoremovehimtoabetterworld,orifthatmightnotbe,stilltotakehimoutofthis;forifhewereunfittoanswerthesummonsnow,afterawarningsickness,andwithsuchanangelby his side, it seemed but too certain that he neverwould be—that, on thecontrary, returning healthwould bring returning lust and villainy, and as hegrewmore certain of recovery,more accustomed to her generous goodness,hisfeelingswouldbecomemorecallous,hisheartmoreflintyandimperviousto her persuasive arguments—but God knew best. Meantime, however, IcouldnotbutbeanxiousfortheresultofHisdecrees;knowing,asIdid,that(leaving myself entirely out of the question), however Helen might feelinterested inherhusband’swelfare,howevershemightdeplorehis fate,stillwhilehelivedshemustbemiserable.

A fortnight passed away, and my inquiries were always answered in thenegative. At length a welcome ‘yes’ drew from me the second question.

Lawrencedivinedmyanxiousthoughts,andappreciatedmyreserve.Ifeared,atfirst,hewasgoingtotorturemebyunsatisfactoryreplies,andeitherleavemequite in thedarkconcerningwhatIwantedtoknow,orforcemetodragtheinformationoutofhim,morselbymorsel,bydirectinquiries.‘Andserveyouright,’youwillsay;buthewasmoremerciful;andinalittlewhileheputhissister’sletterintomyhand.Isilentlyreadit,andrestoredittohimwithoutcomment or remark. This mode of procedure suited him so well, thatthereafterhealwayspursuedtheplanofshowingmeherlettersatonce,when‘inquired’ after her, if therewere any to show—itwas somuch less troublethantotellmetheircontents;andIreceivedsuchconfidencessoquietlyanddiscreetlythathewasneverinducedtodiscontinuethem.

ButIdevouredthosepreciousletterswithmyeyes,andneverletthemgotilltheircontentswerestampeduponmymind;andwhen Igothome, themostimportantpassageswereenteredinmydiaryamongtheremarkableeventsoftheday.

ThefirstofthesecommunicationsbroughtintelligenceofaseriousrelapseinMr. Huntingdon’s illness, entirely the result of his own infatuation inpersistingintheindulgenceofhisappetiteforstimulatingdrink.Invainhadsheremonstrated,invainshehadmingledhiswinewithwater:herargumentsand entreatieswere a nuisance, her interferencewas an insult so intolerablethat, at length, on finding she had covertly diluted the pale port that wasbroughthim,hethrewthebottleoutofthewindow,swearinghewouldnotbecheatedlikeababy,orderedthebutler,onpainofinstantdismissal,tobringabottle of the strongestwine in the cellar, and affirming that he should havebeenwelllongagoifhehadbeenlettohavehisownway,butshewantedtokeephimweakinorderthatshemighthavehimunderherthumb—but,bytheLordHarry,hewouldhavenomorehumbug—seizedaglassinonehandandthe bottle in the other, and never rested till he had drunk it dry. Alarmingsymptoms were the immediate result of this ‘imprudence,’ as she mildlytermed it—symptomswhichhad rather increased thandiminishedsince;andthiswasthecauseofherdelayinwritingtoherbrother.Everyformerfeatureof his malady had returned with augmented virulence: the slight externalwound, half healed, had broken out afresh; internal inflammation had takenplace, which might terminate fatally if not soon removed. Of course, thewretched sufferer’s temper was not improved by this calamity—in fact, Isuspect it was well nigh insupportable, though his kind nurse did notcomplain;butshesaidshehadbeenobligedatlasttogivehersoninchargetoEstherHargrave,asherpresencewassoconstantlyrequiredinthesick-roomthat she could not possibly attend to him herself; and though the child hadbeggedtobeallowedtocontinuewithherthere,andtohelphertonursehispapa,andthoughshehadnodoubthewouldhavebeenverygoodandquiet,

shecouldnotthinkofsubjectinghisyoungandtenderfeelingstothesightofsomuch suffering, orof allowinghim towitnesshis father’s impatience, orhear the dreadful language hewaswont to use in his paroxysms of pain orirritation.

Thelatter(continuedshe)mostdeeplyregretsthestepthathasoccasionedhisrelapse;but,asusual,he throws theblameuponme. If Ihadreasonedwithhimlikearationalcreature,hesays,itneverwouldhavehappened;buttobetreatedlikeababyorafoolwasenoughtoputanymanpasthispatience,anddrivehimtoasserthisindependenceevenatthesacrificeofhisowninterest.He forgets how often I had reasoned him ‘past his patience’ before. Heappearstobesensibleofhisdanger;butnothingcaninducehimtobeholditintheproperlight.Theothernight,whileIwaswaitingonhim,andjustasIhadbroughthimadraughttoassuagehisburningthirst,heobserved,withareturnof his former sarcastic bitterness, ‘Yes, you’re mighty attentive now! Isupposethere’snothingyouwouldn’tdoformenow?’

‘You know,’ said I, a little surprised at hismanner, ‘that I amwilling to doanythingIcantorelieveyou.’

‘Yes, now, my immaculate angel; but when once you have secured yourreward, and findyourself safe inheaven, andmehowling inhell-fire, catchyou liftinga finger toserveme then! No,you’ll lookcomplacentlyon,andnotsomuchasdipthetipofyourfingerinwatertocoolmytongue!’

‘Ifso, itwillbebecauseof thegreatgulfoverwhichIcannotpass;and if Icould look complacently on in such a case, it would be only from theassurancethatyouwerebeingpurifiedfromyoursins,andfittedtoenjoythehappinessIfelt.—Butareyoudetermined,Arthur,thatIshallnotmeetyouinheaven?’

‘Humph!WhatshouldIdothere,Ishouldliketoknow?’

‘Indeed,Icannottell;andIfearit istoocertainthatyourtastesandfeelingsmustbewidelyalteredbeforeyoucanhaveanyenjoymentthere.Butdoyouprefer sinking, without an effort, into the state of torment you picture toyourself?’

‘Oh,it’sallafable,’saidhe,contemptuously.

‘Areyousure,Arthur?areyouquitesure?Because,ifthereisanydoubt,andifyoushouldfindyourselfmistakenafterall,whenitistoolatetoturn—’

‘Itwouldberatherawkward,tobesure,’saidhe;‘butdon’tbothermenow—I’m not going to die yet. I can’t and won’t,’ he added vehemently, as ifsuddenlystruckwith theappallingaspectof that terribleevent. ‘Helen,youmust saveme!’ Andheearnestly seizedmyhand,and looked intomy face

with such imploring eagerness that my heart bled for him, and I could notspeakfortears.

Thenext letterbrought intelligence that themaladywas fast increasing; andthe poor sufferer’s horror of death was still more distressing than hisimpatience of bodily pain. All his friends had not forsaken him; for Mr.Hattersley,hearingofhisdanger,hadcometoseehimfromhisdistanthomein the north. His wife had accompanied him, as much for the pleasure ofseeingherdearfriend,fromwhomshehadbeenpartedsolong,astovisithermotherandsister.

Mrs. Huntingdon expressed herself glad to see Milicent once more, andpleasedtobeholdhersohappyandwell.SheisnowattheGrove,continuedthe letter, but sheoften calls to seeme. Mr.Hattersley spendsmuchofhistimeatArthur’sbed-side.WithmoregoodfeelingthanIgavehimcreditfor,he evinces considerable sympathy for his unhappy friend, and is far morewillingthanabletocomforthim.Sometimeshetriestojokeandlaughwithhim, but that will not do; sometimes he endeavours to cheer himwith talkaboutoldtimes,andthisatonetimemayservetodivertthesuffererfromhisownsadthoughts;atanother,itwillonlyplungehimintodeepermelancholythan before; and thenHattersley is confounded, and knowsnotwhat to say,unless it be a timid suggestion that the clergyman might be sent for. ButArthurwill never consent to that: heknowshehas rejected the clergyman’swell-meantadmonitionswithscoffinglevityatothertimes,andcannotdreamofturningtohimforconsolationnow.

Mr.Hattersleysometimesoffershisservicesinsteadofmine,butArthurwillnotletmego:thatstrangewhimstill increases,ashisstrengthdeclines—thefancy tohavemealwaysbyhis side. Ihardlyever leavehim,except togointothenextroom,whereIsometimessnatchanhourorsoofsleepwhenheisquiet;buteventhenthedoorisleftajar,thathemayknowmetobewithincall.Iamwithhimnow,whileIwrite,andIfearmyoccupationannoyshim;though I frequentlybreakoff to attend tohim, and thoughMr.Hattersley isalsobyhisside. Thatgentlemancame,ashesaid, tobegaholiday forme,thatImighthavearuninthepark,thisfinefrostymorning,withMilicentandEstherandlittleArthur,whomhehaddrivenovertoseeme.Ourpoorinvalidevidently felt it a heartless proposition, and would have felt it still moreheartlessinmetoaccedetoit.IthereforesaidIwouldonlygoandspeaktothem aminute, and then come back. I did but exchange a fewwordswiththem, just outside theportico, inhaling the fresh, bracing air as I stood, andthen, resisting the earnest and eloquent entreaties of all three to stay a littlelonger, and join them in a walk round the garden, I tore myself away andreturnedtomypatient.Ihadnotbeenabsentfiveminutes,buthereproachedmebitterlyformylevityandneglect.Hisfriendespousedmycause.

‘Nay, nay, Huntingdon,’ said he, ‘you’re too hard upon her; shemust havefoodandsleep,andamouthfuloffreshairnowandthen,orshecan’tstandit,Itellyou.Lookather,man!she’sworntoashadowalready.’

‘Whatarehersufferings tomine?’said thepoor invalid. ‘Youdon’tgrudgemetheseattentions,doyou,Helen?’

‘No,Arthur,ifIcouldreallyserveyoubythem.Iwouldgivemylifetosaveyou,ifImight.’

‘Wouldyou,indeed?No!’

‘MostwillinglyIwould.’

‘Ah!that’sbecauseyouthinkyourselfmorefittodie!’

Therewasapainfulpause.Hewasevidentlyplungedingloomyreflections;butwhileIponderedforsomethingtosaythatmightbenefitwithoutalarminghim,Hattersley,whosemindhadbeenpursuingalmostthesamecourse,brokesilencewith,‘Isay,Huntingdon,Iwouldsendforaparsonofsomesort:ifyoudidn’tlikethevicar,youknow,youcouldhavehiscurate,orsomebodyelse.’

‘No;noneofthemcanbenefitmeifshecan’t,’wastheanswer.Andthetearsgushedfromhiseyesasheearnestlyexclaimed,‘Oh,Helen,ifIhadlistenedtoyou,itneverwouldhavecometothis!andifIhadheardyoulongago—oh,God!howdifferentitwouldhavebeen!’

‘Hearmenow,then,Arthur,’saidI,gentlypressinghishand.

‘It’stoolatenow,’saidhedespondingly.Andafterthatanotherparoxysmofpaincameon;andthenhismindbegantowander,andwefearedhisdeathwasapproaching:butanopiatewasadministered:hissufferingsbegantoabate,hegraduallybecamemorecomposed,andatlengthsankintoakindofslumber.Hehasbeenquietersince;andnowHattersleyhaslefthim,expressingahopethatheshallfindhimbetterwhenhecallsto-morrow.

‘Perhaps Imay recover,’ he replied; ‘whoknows? Thismay have been thecrisis.Whatdoyouthink,Helen?’Unwillingtodepresshim,Igavethemostcheering answer I could, but still recommended him to prepare for thepossibilityofwhatIinlyfearedwasbuttoocertain.Buthewasdeterminedtohope.Shortlyafterherelapsedintoakindofdoze,butnowhegroansagain.

There is a change. Suddenly he calledme to his side,with such a strange,excitedmanner,thatIfearedhewasdelirious,buthewasnot.‘Thatwasthecrisis,Helen!’ said he, delightedly. ‘I had an infernal pain here—it is quitegonenow.Ineverwassoeasysincethefall—quitegone,byheaven!’andheclaspedandkissedmyhandintheveryfulnessofhisheart;butfindingIdidnotparticipateinhisjoy,hequicklyflungitfromhim,andbitterlycursedmy

coldnessand insensibility. HowcouldI reply? Kneelingbesidehim,I tookhis hand and fondly pressed it to my lips—for the first time since ourseparation—andtoldhim,aswellastearswouldletmespeak,thatitwasnotthatthatkeptmesilent:itwasthefearthatthissuddencessationofpainwasnot so favourable a symptom as he supposed. I immediately sent for thedoctor: we are now anxiously awaiting him. I will tell youwhat he says.Thereisstillthesamefreedomfrompain,thesamedeadnesstoallsensationwherethesufferingwasmostacute.

Myworst fears are realised:mortification has commenced. The doctor hastoldhimthereisnohope.Nowordscandescribehisanguish.Icanwritenomore.

Thenextwasstillmoredistressing in the tenorof itscontents. Thesuffererwas fastapproachingdissolution—draggedalmost to thevergeof thatawfulchasmhe trembled tocontemplate, fromwhichnoagonyofprayersor tearscouldsavehim.Nothingcouldcomforthimnow;Hattersley’sroughattemptsatconsolationwereutterlyinvain.Theworldwasnothingtohim:lifeandallitsinterests,itspettycaresandtransientpleasures,wereacruelmockery.Totalkofthepastwastotorturehimwithvainremorse;torefertothefuturewastoincreasehisanguish;andyettobesilentwastoleavehimapreytohisownregretsandapprehensions.Oftenhedweltwithshudderingminutenessonthefate of his perishing clay—the slow, piecemeal dissolution already invadinghisframe:theshroud,thecoffin,thedark,lonelygrave,andallthehorrorsofcorruption.

‘IfItry,’saidhisafflictedwife,‘todiverthimfromthesethings—toraisehisthoughtstohigherthemes,itisnobetter:—“Worseandworse!”hegroans.“Iftherebereallylifebeyondthetomb,andjudgmentafterdeath,howcanIfaceit?”—I cannot dohimanygood; hewill neither be enlightened, nor roused,nor comforted by anything I say; and yet he clings tomewith unrelentingpertinacity—withakindofchildishdesperation,as if Icouldsavehimfromthefatehedreads.Hekeepsmenightanddaybesidehim.Heisholdingmylefthandnow,whileIwrite;hehashelditthusforhours:sometimesquietly,with his pale face upturned to mine: sometimes clutching my arm withviolence—thebigdropsstartingfromhisforeheadatthethoughtsofwhathesees,or thinkshe sees,beforehim. If Iwithdrawmyhand foramoment itdistresseshim.

‘“Staywithme, Helen,” he says; “letme hold you so: it seems as if harmcouldnot reachmewhile you are here. But deathwill come—it is comingnow—fast,fast!—and—oh,ifIcouldbelievetherewasnothingafter!”

‘“Don’ttrytobelieveit,Arthur;thereisjoyandgloryafter,ifyouwillbuttrytoreachit!”

‘“What, forme?” he said,with something like a laugh. “Arewe not to bejudged according to the deeds done in the body? Where’s the use of aprobationaryexistence, ifamanmayspend it ashepleases, justcontrary toGod’sdecrees,andthengotoheavenwiththebest—ifthevilestsinnermaywintherewardoftheholiestsaint,bymerelysaying,“Irepent!””’

‘“Butifyousincerelyrepent—”

‘“Ican’trepent;Ionlyfear.”

‘“Youonlyregretthepastforitsconsequencestoyourself?”

‘“Justso—exceptthatI’msorrytohavewrongedyou,Nell,becauseyou’resogoodtome.”

‘“Think of the goodness of God, and you cannot but be grieved to haveoffendedHim.”

‘“WhatisGod?—IcannotseeHimorhearHim.—Godisonlyanidea.”

‘“God is InfiniteWisdom, and Power, andGoodness—and LOVE; but if thisidea is too vast for your human faculties—if your mind loses itself in itsoverwhelminginfinitude,fixitonHimwhocondescendedtotakeournatureuponHim,whowas raised to heaven even inHis glorified human body, inwhomthefulnessoftheGodheadshines.”

‘But he only shook his head and sighed. Then, in another paroxysm ofshudderinghorror,hetightenedhisgrasponmyhandandarm,and,groaningand lamenting, still clung to me with that wild, desperate earnestness soharrowing tomy soul, because I know I cannot helphim. I didmybest tosootheandcomforthim.

‘“Deathissoterrible,”hecried,“Icannotbearit!Youdon’tknow,Helen—youcan’timaginewhatitis,becauseyouhaven’titbeforeyou!andwhenI’mburied, you’ll return to your oldways and be as happy as ever, and all theworldwillgoonjustasbusyandmerryasifIhadneverbeen;whileI—”Heburstintotears.

‘“You needn’t let that distress you,” I said; “we shall all follow you soonenough.”

‘“Iwish toGodIcould takeyouwithmenow!”heexclaimed:“youshouldpleadforme.”

‘“Nomancandeliverhisbrother,normakeagreementuntoGodforhim,”Ireplied:“itcostmoretoredeemtheirsouls—itcostthebloodofanincarnateGod,perfectandsinlessinHimself,toredeemusfromthebondageoftheevilone:—letHimpleadforyou.”

‘But I seem to speak in vain. He does not now, as formerly, laugh theseblessedtruthstoscorn:butstillhecannottrust,orwillnotcomprehendthem.Hecannotlingerlong.Hesuffersdreadfully,andsodothosethatwaituponhim.ButIwillnotharassyouwithfurtherdetails:Ihavesaidenough,Ithink,toconvinceyouthatIdidwelltogotohim.’

Poor,poorHelen!dreadfulindeedhertrialsmusthavebeen!AndIcoulddonothingtolessenthem—nay,italmostseemedasifIhadbroughtthemuponhermyselfbymyownsecretdesires;andwhetherI lookedatherhusband’ssufferings or her own, it seemed almost like a judgment upon myself forhavingcherishedsuchawish.

The next day but one there came another letter. That toowas put intomyhandswithoutaremark,andtheseareitscontents:—

Dec.5th.

Heisgoneatlast.Isatbesidehimallnight,withmyhandfastlookedinhis,watchingthechangesofhisfeaturesandlisteningtohisfailingbreath.Hehadbeensilenta long time,and I thoughthewouldneverspeakagain,whenhemurmured,faintlybutdistinctly,—‘Prayforme,Helen!’

‘Idoprayforyou,everyhourandeveryminute,Arthur;butyoumustprayforyourself.’

Hislipsmoved,butemittednosound;—thenhislooksbecameunsettled;and,from the incoherent, half-utteredwords that escapedhim from time to time,supposinghimtobenowunconscious,Igentlydisengagedmyhandfromhis,intendingtostealawayforabreathofair,forIwasalmostreadytofaint;butaconvulsivemovementofthefingers,andafaintlywhispered‘Don’tleaveme!’immediatelyrecalledme:Itookhishandagain,andheldittillhewasnomore—andthenIfainted.Itwasnotgrief;itwasexhaustion,that,tillthen,Ihadbeen enabled successfully to combat. Oh, Frederick! none can imagine themiseries,bodilyandmental,ofthatdeath-bed!HowcouldIenduretothinkthat that poor trembling soul was hurried away to everlasting torment? itwoulddrivememad. But, thankGod, Ihavehope—notonly fromavaguedependenceon thepossibility thatpenitenceandpardonmighthave reachedhimatthelast,butfromtheblessedconfidencethat,throughwhateverpurgingfirestheerringspiritmaybedoomedtopass—whateverfateawaitsit—stillitisnotlost,andGod,whohatethnothingthatHehathmade,willblessitintheend!

His body will be consigned on Thursday to that dark grave he so muchdreaded;butthecoffinmustbeclosedassoonaspossible.Ifyouwillattendthefuneral,comequickly,forIneedhelp.

HELENHUNTINGDON.

CHAPTERL

OnreadingthisIhadnoreasontodisguisemyjoyandhopefromFrederickLawrence,forIhadnonetobeashamedof.Ifeltnojoybutthathissisterwasatlengthreleasedfromherafflictive,overwhelmingtoil—nohopebutthatshewouldin timerecoverfromtheeffectsof it,andbesufferedtorest inpeaceandquietness,at least, for theremainderofher life. Iexperiencedapainfulcommiseration for her unhappy husband (though fully aware that he hadbrought every particle of his sufferings upon himself, and but too welldeservedthemall),andaprofoundsympathyforherownafflictions,anddeepanxiety for the consequences of those harassing cares, those dreadful vigils,that incessantanddeleteriousconfinementbesidea livingcorpse—for Iwaspersuadedshehadnothintedhalfthesufferingsshehadhadtoendure.

‘Youwillgotoher,Lawrence?’saidI,asIputtheletterintohishand.

‘Yes,immediately.’

‘That’sright!I’llleaveyou,then,toprepareforyourdeparture.’

‘I’ve done that already, while you were reading the letter, and before youcame;andthecarriageisnowcomingroundtothedoor.’

Inlyapprovinghispromptitude,Ibadehimgood-morning,andwithdrew.Hegavemeasearchingglanceaswepressedeachother’shandsatparting;butwhatever he sought in my countenance, he saw there nothing but themostbecominggravity—itmightbemingledwitha little sternness inmomentaryresentmentatwhatIsuspectedtobepassinginhismind.

HadIforgottenmyownprospects,myardentlove,mypertinacioushopes?Itseemedlikesacrilegetoreverttothemnow,butIhadnotforgottenthem.Itwas, however, with a gloomy sense of the darkness of those prospects, thefallacyofthosehopes,andthevanityofthataffection,thatIreflectedonthosethings as I remounted my horse and slowly journeyed homewards. Mrs.Huntingdonwasfreenow;itwasnolongeracrimeto thinkofher—butdidshe ever think ofme? Not now—of course itwas not to be expected—butwouldshewhenthisshockwasover?Inallthecourseofhercorrespondencewith her brother (ourmutual friend, as she herself had called him) she hadnever mentioned me but once—and that was from necessity. This aloneaffordedstrongpresumptionthatIwasalreadyforgotten;yetthiswasnottheworst:itmighthavebeenhersenseofdutythathadkepthersilent:shemight

beonlytryingtoforget;butinadditiontothis,Ihadagloomyconvictionthattheawfulrealitiesshehadseenandfelt,her reconciliationwith themanshehadonceloved,hisdreadfulsufferingsanddeath,musteventuallyeffacefromhermindalltracesofherpassingloveforme.Shemightrecoverfromthesehorrors so far as to be restored to her former health, her tranquillity, hercheerfulness even—but never to those feelings which would appear to her,henceforth,asafleetingfancy,avain,illusivedream;especiallyastherewasnoonetoremindherofmyexistence—nomeansofassuringherofmyferventconstancy,nowthatweweresofarapart,anddelicacyforbademetoseeherortowritetoher,formonthstocomeatleast. AndhowcouldIengageherbrotherinmybehalf?howcouldIbreakthaticycrustofshyreserve?Perhapshewoulddisapproveofmyattachmentnowashighly asbefore; perhapshewouldthinkmetoopoor—toolowlyborn,tomatchwithhissister.Yes,therewasanotherbarrier:doubtless therewasawidedistinctionbetweentherankand circumstances of Mrs. Huntingdon, the lady of Grassdale Manor, andthoseofMrs.Graham,theartist,thetenantofWildfellHall.Anditmightbedeemedpresumptioninmetooffermyhandto theformer,bytheworld,byher friends, if not by herself; a penalty Imight brave, if Iwere certain shelovedme; but otherwise, howcould I? And, finally, her deceasedhusband,with his usual selfishness, might have so constructed his will as to placerestrictionsuponhermarryingagain.SothatyouseeIhadreasonsenoughfordespairifIchosetoindulgeit.

Nevertheless,itwaswithnosmalldegreeofimpatiencethatIlookedforwardto Mr. Lawrence’s return from Grassdale: impatience that increased inproportionashisabsencewasprolonged.Hestayedawaysometenortwelvedays.Allveryrightthatheshouldremaintocomfortandhelphissister,buthemighthavewritten to tellmehowshewas,orat least to tellmewhentoexpecthisreturn;forhemighthaveknownIwassufferingtorturesofanxietyforher,anduncertaintyformyownfutureprospects.Andwhenhedidreturn,allhetoldmeaboutherwas,thatshehadbeengreatlyexhaustedandwornbyherunremittingexertions inbehalfof thatmanwhohadbeenthescourgeofherlife,andhaddraggedherwithhimnearlytotheportalsofthegrave,andwas still much shaken and depressed by his melancholy end and thecircumstancesattendantuponit;butnowordinreferencetome;nointimationthatmynamehadeverpassedherlips,orevenbeenspokeninherpresence.Tobesure,Iaskednoquestionsonthesubject;Icouldnotbringmymindtodoso,believing,asIdid,thatLawrencewasindeedaversetotheideaofmyunionwithhissister.

Isawthatheexpectedtobefurtherquestionedconcerninghisvisit,andIsawtoo,withthekeenperceptionofawakenedjealousy,oralarmedself-esteem,orbywhatevernameIoughttocallit,thatherathershrankfromthatimpending

scrutiny,andwasno lesspleased thansurprised to find itdidnotcome. Ofcourse, I was burning with anger, but pride obliged me to suppress myfeelings,andpreserveasmoothface,oratleastastoiccalmness,throughoutthe interview. It was well it did, for, reviewing the matter in my soberjudgment,Imustsayitwouldhavebeenhighlyabsurdandimpropertohavequarrelledwithhimonsuchanoccasion.Imustconfess,too,thatIwrongedhiminmyheart:thetruthwas,helikedmeverywell,buthewasfullyawarethataunionbetweenMrs.Huntingdonandmewouldbewhattheworldcallsamesalliance;anditwasnotinhisnaturetosettheworldatdefiance;especiallyin sucha case as this, for its dread laugh,or ill opinion,wouldbe farmoreterribletohimdirectedagainsthissisterthanhimself.Hadhebelievedthataunionwasnecessary to thehappinessofboth,orofeither,orhadheknownhowferventlyIlovedher,hewouldhaveacteddifferently;butseeingmesocalmandcool,hewouldnotfortheworlddisturbmyphilosophy;andthoughrefrainingentirely fromanyactiveopposition to thematch,hewouldyetdonothingtobringitabout,andwouldmuchrathertakethepartofprudence,inaiding us to overcome our mutual predilections, than that of feeling, toencouragethem.‘Andhewasintherightofit,’youwillsay.Perhapshewas;atanyrate,IhadnobusinesstofeelsobitterlyagainsthimasIdid;butIcouldnot then regard the matter in such a moderate light; and, after a briefconversationupon indifferent topics, Iwent away, suffering all thepangsofwoundedprideandinjuredfriendship, inadditiontothoseresultingfromthefearthatIwasindeedforgotten,andtheknowledgethatsheIlovedwasaloneand afflicted, suffering from injured health and dejected spirits, and I wasforbidden to console or assist her: forbidden even to assure her of mysympathy, for the transmission of any suchmessage throughMr. Lawrencewasnowcompletelyoutofthequestion.

ButwhatshouldIdo?Iwouldwait,andseeifshewouldnoticeme,whichofcourseshewouldnot,unlessbysomekindmessage intrusted toherbrother,that, inallprobability,hewouldnotdeliver, and then,dreadful thought! shewould thinkmecooledandchanged fornot returning it,or,perhaps,hehadalreadygivenhertounderstandthatIhadceasedtothinkofher.Iwouldwait,however,tillthesixmonthsafterourpartingwerefairlypassed(whichwouldbeaboutthecloseofFebruary),andthenIwouldsendheraletter,modestlyreminding her of her former permission to write to her at the close of thatperiod,andhopingImightavailmyselfofit—atleasttoexpressmyheartfeltsorrowforher lateafflictions,my justappreciationofhergenerousconduct,andmyhopethatherhealthwasnowcompletelyre-established,andthatshewould,sometime,bepermittedtoenjoythoseblessingsofapeaceful,happylife,whichhadbeendeniedhersolong,butwhichnonecouldmoretrulybesaid tomerit thanherself—adding a fewwordsofkind remembrance tomylittle friendArthur,withahope thathehadnot forgottenme,andperhapsa

fewmoreinreferencetobygonetimes,tothedelightfulhoursIhadpassedinher society, and my unfading recollection of them, which was the salt andsolaceofmylife,andahopethatherrecenttroubleshadnotentirelybanishedme from hermind. If she did not answer this, of course I shouldwrite nomore:ifshedid(assurelyshewould,insomefashion),myfutureproceedingsshouldberegulatedbyherreply.

Ten weeks was long to wait in such a miserable state of uncertainty; butcourage!itmustbeendured!andmeantimeIwouldcontinuetoseeLawrencenow and then, though not so often as before, and I would still pursue myhabitualinquiriesafterhissister,ifhehadlatelyheardfromher,andhowshewas,butnothingmore.

Idid so, and the answers I receivedwere alwaysprovokingly limited to theletteroftheinquiry:shewasmuchasusual:shemadenocomplaints,butthetone of her last letter evinced great depression of mind: she said she wasbetter: and, finally, she said she was well, and very busy with her son’seducation, andwith themanagementof her late husband’sproperty, and theregulationofhisaffairs.Therascalhadnevertoldmehowthatpropertywasdisposed,orwhetherMr.Huntingdonhaddied intestateornot; and Iwouldsooner die than ask him, lest he should misconstrue into covetousness mydesire toknow. Heneveroffered to showmehis sister’s lettersnow, and Inever hinted a wish to see them. February, however, was approaching;Decemberwaspast;January,atlength,wasalmostover—afewmoreweeks,and then, certain despair or renewal of hopewould put an end to this longagonyofsuspense.

Butalas!itwasjustaboutthattimeshewascalledtosustainanotherblowinthedeathofheruncle—aworthlessold fellowenough inhimself, Idaresay,buthehadalwaysshownmorekindnessandaffectiontoherthantoanyothercreature,andshehadalwaysbeenaccustomedtoregardhimasaparent.Shewaswithhimwhenhedied,andhadassistedheraunttonursehimduringthelaststageofhisillness.HerbrotherwenttoStaningleytoattendthefuneral,andtoldme,uponhisreturn,thatshewasstillthere,endeavouringtocheerherauntwithherpresence,andlikely toremainsometime. Thiswasbadnewsforme, forwhile she continued there I could notwrite to her, as I did notknowtheaddress,andwouldnotaskitofhim.Butweekfollowedweek,andeverytimeIinquiredabouthershewasstillatStaningley.

‘WhereisStaningley?’Iaskedatlast.

‘In—shire,’wasthebriefreply;andtherewassomethingsocoldanddryinthe manner of it, that I was effectually deterred from requesting a moredefiniteaccount.

‘WhenwillshereturntoGrassdale?’wasmynextquestion.

‘Idon’tknow.’

‘Confoundit!’Imuttered.

‘Why,Markham?’askedmycompanion,withanairofinnocentsurprise.ButI did not deign to answer him, save by a look of silent, sullen contempt, atwhichhe turned away, andcontemplated the carpetwith a slight smile, halfpensive, half amused; but quickly looking up, he began to talk of othersubjects,tryingtodrawmeintoacheerfulandfriendlyconversation,butIwastoomuchirritatedtodiscoursewithhim,andsoontookleave.

You see Lawrence and I somehow could not manage to get on very welltogether.Thefactis,Ibelieve,wewerebothofusalittletootouchy.Itisatroublesome thing, Halford, this susceptibility to affronts where none areintended.Iamnomartyrtoitnow,asyoucanbearmewitness:Ihavelearnedtobemerryandwise,tobemoreeasywithmyselfandmoreindulgenttomyneighbours,andIcanaffordtolaughatbothLawrenceandyou.

Partly from accident, partly from wilful negligence on my part (for I wasreallybeginningtodislikehim),severalweekselapsedbeforeIsawmyfriendagain.Whenwedidmeet,itwashethatsoughtmeout.Onebrightmorning,early in June,he came into the field,where Iwas just commencingmyhayharvest.

‘It is longsinceIsawyou,Markham,’saidhe,after the first fewwordshadpassedbetweenus.‘DoyounevermeantocometoWoodfordagain?’

‘Icalledonce,andyouwereout.’

‘Iwassorry,butthatwaslongsince;Ihopedyouwouldcallagain,andnowIhavecalled,andyouwereout,whichyougenerallyare,orIwoulddomyselfthepleasureofcallingmorefrequently;butbeingdeterminedtoseeyouthistime,Ihaveleftmyponyinthelane,andcomeoverhedgeandditchtojoinyou; for I am about to leaveWoodford for a while, andmay not have thepleasureofseeingyouagainforamonthortwo.’

‘Whereareyougoing?’

‘To Grassdale first,’ said he, with a half-smile he would willingly havesuppressedifhecould.

‘ToGrassdale!Isshethere,then?’

‘Yes,butinadayortwoshewillleaveittoaccompanyMrs.MaxwelltoF—forthebenefitoftheseaair,andIshallgowiththem.’(F—wasatthattimeaquietbutrespectablewatering-place:itisconsiderablymorefrequentednow.)

Lawrence seemed to expect me to take advantage of this circumstance toentrusthimwithsomesortofamessagetohissister;andIbelievehewouldhaveundertakentodeliveritwithoutanymaterialobjections,ifIhadhadthesensetoaskhim,thoughofcoursehewouldnotoffertodoso,ifIwascontenttoletitalone.ButIcouldnotbringmyselftomaketherequest,anditwasnottillafterhewasgone,thatIsawhowfairanopportunityIhadlost;andthen,indeed,Ideeplyregrettedmystupidityandmyfoolishpride,but itwasnowtoolatetoremedytheevil.

HedidnotreturntilltowardsthelatterendofAugust.Hewrotetometwiceor thrice from F—, but his letters were most provokingly unsatisfactory,dealingingeneralitiesor in trifles thatIcarednothingabout,orrepletewithfancies and reflections equallyunwelcome tomeat the time, sayingnext tonothingabouthissister,andlittlemoreabouthimself.Iwouldwait,however,tillhecameback;perhapsIcouldgetsomethingmoreoutofhimthen.Atallevents, Iwouldnotwrite tohernow,while shewaswithhimandher aunt,who doubtless would be still more hostile to my presumptuous aspirationsthanhimself. Whenshewasreturnedto thesilenceandsolitudeofherownhome,itwouldbemyfittestopportunity.

WhenLawrencecame,however,hewasasreservedaseveronthesubjectofmykeenanxiety.HetoldmethathissisterhadderivedconsiderablebenefitfromherstayatF—thathersonwasquitewell,and—alas!thatbothofthemweregone,withMrs.Maxwell, back toStaningley, and there they stayed atleast three months. But instead of boring you with my chagrin, myexpectations and disappointments, my fluctuations of dull despondency andflickeringhope,myvaryingresolutions,nowtodropit,andnowtopersevere—nowtomakeaboldpush,andnowtoletthingspassandpatientlyabidemytime,—I will employ myself in settling the business of one or two of thecharacters introduced in the course of this narrative, whom Imay not haveoccasiontomentionagain.

Some time before Mr. Huntingdon’s death Lady Lowborough eloped withanothergallanttotheContinent,where,havinglivedawhileinrecklessgaietyanddissipation,theyquarrelledandparted.Shewentdashingonforaseason,but years cameandmoneywent: she sunk, at length, indifficulty anddebt,disgraceandmisery;anddiedatlast,asIhaveheard,inpenury,neglect,andutterwretchedness.Butthismightbeonlyareport:shemaybelivingyetforanything I or any of her relatives or former acquaintances can tell; for theyhavealllostsightofherlongyearsago,andwouldasthoroughlyforgetherifthey could. Her husband, however, upon this second misdemeanour,immediatelysoughtandobtainedadivorce,and,notlongafter,marriedagain.Itwaswellhedid, forLordLowborough,moroseandmoodyasheseemed,was not the man for a bachelor’s life. No public interests, no ambitious

projects, or active pursuits,—or ties of friendship even (if he had had anyfriends),couldcompensate tohimfor theabsenceofdomesticcomfortsandendearments. Hehad a son and a nominal daughter, it is true, but they toopainfully remindedhimof theirmother, and theunfortunate littleAnnabellawas a source of perpetual bitterness to his soul. He had obliged himself totreat herwith paternal kindness: he had forced himself not to hate her, andeven,perhaps,tofeelsomedegreeofkindlyregardforher,atlast,inreturnforher artless and unsuspecting attachment to himself; but the bitterness of hisself-condemnation for his inward feelings towards that innocent being, hisconstantstrugglestosubduetheevilpromptingsofhisnature(foritwasnotagenerous one), though partly guessed at by those who knew him, could beknown to God and his own heart alone;—so also was the hardness of hisconflicts with the temptation to return to the vice of his youth, and seekoblivionforpastcalamities,anddeadnesstothepresentmiseryofablightedheartajoyless,friendlesslife,andamorbidlydisconsolatemind,byyieldingagain to that insidious foe to health, and sense, and virtue, which had sodeplorablyenslavedanddegradedhimbefore.

The second object of his choicewaswidely different from the first. Somewonderedathistaste;someevenridiculedit—butinthistheirfollywasmoreapparentthanhis.Theladywasabouthisownage—i.e.,betweenthirtyandforty—remarkable neither for beauty, nor wealth, nor brilliantaccomplishments; nor any other thing that I ever heard of, except genuinegoodsense,unswervingintegrity,activepiety,warm-heartedbenevolence,anda fund of cheerful spirits. These qualities, however, as you way readilyimagine,combined to renderheranexcellentmother to thechildren,andaninvaluablewifetohislordship. He,withhisusualself-depreciation,thoughther a world too good for him, and while he wondered at the kindness ofProvidence in conferring such a gift upon him, and even at her taste inpreferringhim toothermen,hedidhis best to reciprocate thegood shedidhim, and so far succeeded that she was, and I believe still is, one of thehappiestandfondestwivesinEngland;andallwhoquestionthegoodtasteofeitherpartnermaybe thankful if their respective selections afford themhalfthegenuinesatisfactionintheend,orrepaytheirpreferencewithaffectionhalfaslastingandsincere.

If you are at all interested in the fate of that low scoundrel,Grimsby, I canonlytellyouthathewentfrombadtoworse,sinkingfrombathostobathosofviceandvillainy,consortingonlywiththeworstmembersofhisclubandthelowestdregsofsociety—happilyfortherestoftheworld—andatlastmethisendinadrunkenbrawl,fromthehands,itissaid,ofsomebrotherscoundrelhehadcheatedatplay.

AsforMr.Hattersley,hehadneverwhollyforgottenhisresolutionto‘come

out from among them,’ and behave like aman and aChristian, and the lastillnessanddeathofhisoncejollyfriendHuntingdonsodeeplyandseriouslyimpressed himwith the evil of their former practices, that he never neededanother lesson of the kind. Avoiding the temptations of the town, hecontinued topasshis life in thecountry, immersed in theusualpursuitsofahearty,active,countrygentleman;hisoccupationsbeingthoseoffarming,andbreedinghorsesandcattle,diversifiedwithalittlehuntingandshooting,andenlivenedbytheoccasionalcompanionshipofhisfriends(betterfriendsthanthoseofhisyouth),andthesocietyofhishappylittlewife(nowcheerfulandconfiding as heart could wish), and his fine family of stalwart sons andbloomingdaughters. Hisfather,thebanker,havingdiedsomeyearsagoandlefthimallhisriches,hehasnowfullscopefortheexerciseofhisprevailingtastes, and I need not tell you that Ralph Hattersley, Esq., is celebratedthroughoutthecountryforhisnoblebreedofhorses.

CHAPTERLI

We will now turn to a certain still, cold, cloudy afternoon about thecommencementofDecember,whenthefirstfallofsnowlaythinlyscatteredovertheblightedfieldsandfrozenroads,orstoredmorethicklyinthehollowsof the deep cart-ruts and footsteps ofmen and horses impressed in the nowpetrifiedmireof lastmonth’sdrenchingrains. Irememberitwell,forIwaswalking home from the vicarage with no less remarkable a personage thanMiss Eliza Millward by my side. I had been to call upon her father,—asacrificetocivilityundertakenentirelytopleasemymother,notmyself,forIhatedtogonearthehouse;notmerelyonaccountofmyantipathytotheonceso bewitching Eliza, but because I had not half forgiven the old gentlemanhimselfforhisillopinionofMrs.Huntingdon;forthoughnowconstrainedtoacknowledgehimselfmistakeninhisformerjudgment,hestillmaintainedthatshe had donewrong to leave her husband; it was a violation of her sacredduties as a wife, and a tempting of Providence by laying herself open totemptation;andnothingshortofbodilyill-usage(andthatofnotriflingnature)couldexcusesuchastep—noreventhat,forinsuchacasesheoughttoappealtothelawsforprotection.ButitwasnotofhimIintendedtospeak;itwasofhis daughter Eliza. Just as Iwas taking leave of the vicar, she entered theroom,readyequippedforawalk.

‘Iwasjustcomingtosee,yoursister,Mr.Markham,’saidshe;‘andso,ifyouhave no objection, I’ll accompany you home. I like company when I’mwalkingout—don’tyou?’

‘Yes,whenit’sagreeable.’

‘Thatofcourse,’rejoinedtheyounglady,smilingarchly.

Soweproceededtogether.

‘ShallIfindRoseathome,doyouthink?’saidshe,asweclosedthegardengate,andsetourfacestowardsLinden-Car.

‘Ibelieveso.’

‘ItrustIshall,forI’vealittlebitofnewsforher—ifyouhaven’tforestalledme.’

‘I?’

‘Yes:doyouknowwhatMr.Lawrenceisgonefor?’Shelookedupanxiouslyformyreply.

‘Ishegone?’saidI;andherfacebrightened.

‘Ah!thenhehasn’ttoldyouabouthissister?’

‘Whatofher?’Idemandedinterror,lestsomeevilshouldhavebefallenher.

‘Oh,Mr.Markham,howyoublush!’criedshe,withatormentinglaugh.‘Ha,ha,youhavenotforgottenheryet.Butyouhadbetterbequickaboutit,Icantellyou,for—alas,alas!—she’sgoingtobemarriednextThursday!’

‘No,MissEliza,that’sfalse.’

‘Doyouchargemewithafalsehood,sir?’

‘Youaremisinformed.’

‘AmI?Doyouknowbetter,then?’

‘IthinkIdo.’

‘What makes you look so pale then?’ said she, smiling with delight at myemotion.‘Isitangeratpoormefortellingsuchafib?Well,Ionly“tellthetaleas’twastoldtome:”Idon’tvouchforthetruthofit;butatthesametime,Idon’tseewhatreasonSarahshouldhavefordeceivingme,orherinformantfordeceivingher;andthatwaswhatshetoldmethefootmantoldher:—thatMrs. Huntingdonwas going to bemarried on Thursday, andMr. Lawrencewasgonetothewedding.Shedidtellmethenameofthegentleman,butI’veforgottenthat. Perhapsyoucanassistmetorememberit. Istherenotsomeonethatlivesnear—orfrequentlyvisitstheneighbourhood,thathaslongbeenattachedtoher?—aMr.—oh,dear!Mr.—’

‘Hargrave?’suggestedI,withabittersmile.

‘You’reright,’criedshe;‘thatwastheveryname.’

‘Impossible,MissEliza!’Iexclaimed,inatonethatmadeherstart.

‘Well,youknow,that’swhattheytoldme,’saidshe,composedlystaringmeinthe face. And thenshebrokeout intoa longshrill laugh thatputme tomywit’sendwithfury.

‘Reallyyoumustexcuseme,’criedshe.‘Iknowit’sveryrude,butha,ha,ha!—didyouthinktomarryheryourself?Dear,dear,whatapity!—ha,ha,ha!Gracious,Mr.Markham,areyougoingtofaint?Oh,mercy!shallIcall thisman?Here,Jacob—‘Butcheckingthewordonherlips,Iseizedherarmandgaveit,Ithink,aprettyseveresqueeze,forsheshrankintoherselfwithafaintcry of pain or terror; but the spirit within her was not subdued: instantlyrallying,shecontinued,withwell-feignedconcern, ‘WhatcanIdoforyou?Willyouhave somewater—somebrandy? Idaresay theyhave some in thepublic-housedownthere,ifyou’llletmerun.’

‘Have donewith this nonsense!’ cried I, sternly. She looked confounded—almost frightened again, for a moment. ‘You know I hate such jests,’ Icontinued.

‘Jestsindeed!Iwasn’tjesting!’

‘Youwerelaughing,atallevents;andIdon’tliketobelaughedat,’returnedI,makingviolenteffortstospeakwithproperdignityandcomposure,andtosaynothing butwhatwas coherent and sensible. ‘And since you are in such amerrymood,MissEliza,youmustbegoodenoughcompanyforyourself;andthereforeIshallleaveyoutofinishyourwalkalone—for,nowIthinkofit,Ihavebusinesselsewhere;sogood-evening.’

WiththatIlefther(smotheringhermaliciouslaughter)andturnedasideintothefields,springingup thebank,andpushingthroughthenearestgap in thehedge.Determinedatoncetoprovethetruth—orratherthefalsehood—ofherstory,IhastenedtoWoodfordasfastasmylegscouldcarryme;firstveeringround by a circuitous course, but themoment Iwas out of sight ofmy fairtormentor cutting away across the country, just as a bird might fly, overpasture-land, and fallow, and stubble, and lane, clearing hedges and ditchesand hurdles, till I came to the young squire’s gates. Never till now had Iknownthefullfervourofmylove—thefullstrengthofmyhopes,notwhollycrushed even in my hours of deepest despondency, always tenaciouslyclingingtothethoughtthatonedayshemightbemine,or,ifnotthat,atleastthatsomethingofmymemory,someslightremembranceofourfriendshipandourlove,wouldbeforevercherishedinherheart.Imarcheduptothedoor,determined,ifIsawthemaster,toquestionhimboldlyconcerninghissister,towaitandhesitatenolonger,butcastfalsedelicacyandstupidpridebehindmy

back,andknowmyfateatonce.

‘IsMr. Lawrence at home?’ I eagerly asked of the servant that opened thedoor.

‘No,sir,masterwentyesterday,’repliedhe,lookingveryalert.

‘Wentwhere?’

‘ToGrassdale,sir—wasn’tyouaware,sir?He’sveryclose,ismaster,’saidthefellow,withafoolish,simperinggrin.‘Isuppose,sir—’

ButIturnedandlefthim,withoutwaitingtohearwhathesupposed.Iwasnotgoingtostandtheretoexposemytorturedfeelingstotheinsolentlaughterandimpertinentcuriosityofafellowlikethat.

Butwhatwastobedonenow?Coulditbepossiblethatshehadleftmeforthatman?Icouldnotbelieveit.Meshemightforsake,butnottogiveherselfto him! Well, Iwould know the truth; to no concerns of daily life could Iattendwhilethistempestofdoubtanddread,ofjealousyandrage,distractedme. Iwould take themorning coach fromL— (the evening onewould bealreadygone),andflytoGrassdale—Imustbetherebeforethemarriage.Andwhy?BecauseathoughtstruckmethatperhapsImightpreventit—thatifIdidnot, sheandImightboth lament it to the latestmomentofour lives. Itstruckmethatsomeonemighthavebeliedmetoher:perhapsherbrother;yes,no doubt her brother had persuaded her that I was false and faithless, andtaking advantage of her natural indignation, and perhaps her despondingcarelessness about her future life, had urged her, artfully, cruelly, on to thisothermarriage,inordertosecureherfromme.Ifthiswasthecase,andifsheshouldonlydiscoverhermistakewhentoolatetorepairit—towhatalifeofmiseryandvainregretmightshebedoomedaswellasme;andwhatremorseformetothinkmyfoolishscrupleshadinduceditall!Oh,Imustseeher—shemustknowmytruthevenifItolditatthechurchdoor!Imightpassforamadman or an impertinent fool—even she might be offended at such aninterruption,oratleastmighttellmeitwasnowtoolate.ButifIcouldsaveher,ifshemightbemine!—itwastoorapturousathought!

Winged by this hope, and goaded by these fears, I hurried homewards toprepare for my departure on the morrow. I told my mother that urgentbusinesswhichadmittednodelay,butwhichIcouldnotthenexplain,calledmeaway.

Mydeepanxietyandseriouspreoccupationcouldnotbeconcealedfromhermaternal eyes; and I had much ado to calm her apprehensions of somedisastrousmystery.

Thatnighttherecameaheavyfallofsnow,whichsoretardedtheprogressof

the coaches on the following day that Iwas almost driven to distraction. Itravelled all night, of course, for this wasWednesday: to-morrowmorning,doubtless,themarriagewouldtakeplace.Butthenightwaslonganddark:thesnowheavilycloggedthewheelsandballedthehorses’feet;theanimalswereconsumedly lazy; the coachman most execrably cautious; the passengersconfoundedly apathetic in their supine indifference to the rate of ourprogression. Insteadofassistingmetobully theseveralcoachmenandurgethem forward, theymerely stared andgrinned atmy impatience: one fellowevenventuredtorallymeuponit—butIsilencedhimwithalookthatquelledhimfortherestofthejourney;andwhen,atthelaststage,Iwouldhavetakenthereinsintomyownhand,theyallwithoneaccordopposedit.

Itwas broad daylightwhenwe enteredM—and drew up at the ‘Rose andCrown.’Ialightedandcalledaloudforapost-chaisetoGrassdale.Therewasnonetobehad:theonlyoneinthetownwasunderrepair.‘Agig,then—afly—car—anything—onlybequick!’Therewasagig,butnotahorsetospare.Isentintothetowntoseekone:buttheyweresuchanintolerabletimeaboutitthatIcouldwaitnolonger—Ithoughtmyownfeetcouldcarrymesooner;andbiddingthemsendtheconveyanceafterme,ifitwerereadywithinanhour,IsetoffasfastasIcouldwalk.Thedistancewaslittlemorethansixmiles,buttheroadwasstrange,andIhadtokeepstoppingtoinquiremyway;hallooingto carters and clodhoppers, and frequently invading the cottages, for therewere few abroad that winter’s morning; sometimes knocking up the lazypeople from their beds, forwhere so littleworkwas tobedone, perhaps solittlefoodandfiretobehad,theycarednottocurtailtheirslumbers.Ihadnotime to think of them, however; aching with weariness and desperation, Ihurriedon.Thegigdidnotovertakeme:anditwaswellIhadnotwaitedforit;vexatiousrather,thatIhadbeenfoolenoughtowaitsolong.

Atlength,however,IenteredtheneighbourhoodofGrassdale. Iapproachedthe little rural church—but lo! there stood a train of carriages before it; itneedednotthewhitefavoursbedeckingtheservantsandhorses,northemerryvoicesofthevillageidlersassembledtowitnesstheshow,toapprisemethattherewasaweddingwithin.Iraninamongthem,demanding,withbreathlesseagerness,hadtheceremonylongcommenced?Theyonlygapedandstared.Inmydesperation,Ipushedpastthem,andwasabouttoenterthechurchyardgate,whenagroupofraggedurchins,thathadbeenhanginglikebeestothewindow,suddenlydroppedoffandmadearushfortheporch,vociferatinginthe uncouth dialect of their country somethingwhich signified, ‘It’s over—they’recomingout!’

IfElizaMillwardhadseenmethenshemightindeedhavebeendelighted.Igraspedthegate-postforsupport,andstoodintentlygazingtowardsthedoortotakemylastlookonmysoul’sdelight,myfirstonthatdetestedmortalwho

hadtornherfrommyheart,anddoomedher,Iwascertain,toalifeofmiseryandhollow,vainrepining—forwhathappinesscouldsheenjoywithhim? Ididnotwishtoshockherwithmypresencenow,butIhadnotpowertomoveaway. Forthcamethebrideandbridegroom. HimIsawnot;Ihadeyesfornonebuther.Alongveilshroudedhalfhergracefulform,butdidnothideit;Icouldsee thatwhileshecarriedherheaderect,hereyeswerebentupon theground,andherfaceandneckweresuffusedwithacrimsonblush;buteveryfeaturewasradiantwithsmiles,andgleamingthroughthemistywhitenessofherveilwereclustersofgoldenringlets!Oh,heavens!itwasnotmyHelen!Thefirstglimpsemademestart—butmyeyesweredarkenedwithexhaustionanddespair.DareItrustthem?‘Yes—itisnotshe!Itwasayounger,slighter,rosier beauty—lovely indeed, but with far less dignity and depth of soul—without that indefinable grace, that keenly spiritual yet gentle charm, thatineffablepowertoattractandsubjugatetheheart—myheartatleast.Ilookedatthebridegroom—itwasFrederickLawrence!Iwipedawaythecolddropsthatwere trickling downmy forehead, and stepped back as he approached;but,hiseyes felluponme,andheknewme,alteredasmyappearancemusthavebeen.

‘Is thatyou,Markham?’saidhe,startledandconfoundedat theapparition—perhaps,too,atthewildnessofmylooks.

‘Yes,Lawrence;isthatyou?’Imusteredthepresenceofmindtoreply.

Hesmiledandcoloured,asifhalf-proudandhalf-ashamedofhisidentity;andifhehadreasontobeproudofthesweetladyonhisarm,hehadnolesscausetobeashamedofhavingconcealedhisgoodfortunesolong.

‘Allowme to introduce you tomybride,’ said he, endeavouring to hide hisembarrassment by an assumption of careless gaiety. ‘Esther, this is Mr.Markham;myfriendMarkham,Mrs.Lawrence,lateMissHargrave.’

Ibowedtothebride,andvehementlywrungthebridegroom’shand.

‘Why did you not tell me of this?’ I said, reproachfully, pretending aresentmentIdidnotfeel(forintruthIwasalmostwildwithjoytofindmyselfsohappilymistaken,andoverflowingwithaffectiontohimforthisandforthebaseinjusticeIfeltthatIhaddonehiminmymind—hemighthavewrongedme, but not to that extent; and as I hadhatedhim like a demon for the lastfortyhours,thereactionfromsuchafeelingwassogreatthatIcouldpardonalloffencesforthemoment—andlovehiminspiteofthemtoo).

‘I did tell you,’ said he, with an air of guilty confusion; ‘you received myletter?’

‘Whatletter?’

‘Theoneannouncingmyintendedmarriage.’

‘Ineverreceivedthemostdistanthintofsuchanintention.’

‘It must have crossed you on your way then—it should have reached youyesterdaymorning—itwasratherlate,Iacknowledge.Butwhatbroughtyouhere,then,ifyoureceivednoinformation?’

It was now my turn to be confounded; but the young lady, who had beenbusily patting the snowwith her foot during our short sotto-voce colloquy,veryopportunelycametomyassistancebypinchinghercompanion’sarmandwhispering a suggestion that his friend should be invited to step into thecarriageandgowiththem;itbeingscarcelyagreeabletostandthereamongsomanygazers,andkeepingtheirfriendswaitingintothebargain.

‘Andsocoldasitistoo!’saidhe,glancingwithdismayatherslightdrapery,and immediatelyhandingher into thecarriage. ‘Markham,willyoucome?We are going to Paris, but we can drop you anywhere between this andDover.’

‘No,thankyou.Good-by—Ineedn’twishyouapleasantjourney;butIshallexpect a very handsome apology, some time, mind, and scores of letters,beforewemeetagain.’

Heshookmyhand,andhastenedtotakehisplacebesidehislady.Thiswasno time or place for explanation or discourse: we had already stood longenoughtoexcitethewonderofthevillagesight-seers,andperhapsthewrathof the attendant bridal party; though, of course, all this passed in a muchshortertimethanIhavetakentorelate,oreventhanyouwilltaketoreadit.Istoodbesidethecarriage,and,thewindowbeingdown,Isawmyhappyfriendfondly encircle his companion’s waist with his arm, while she rested herglowing cheek on his shoulder, looking the very impersonation of loving,trusting bliss. In the interval between the footman’s closing the door andtaking his place behind she raised her smiling brown eyes to his face,observing,playfully,—‘Ifearyoumustthinkmeveryinsensible,Frederick:Iknow it is the custom for ladies to cry on these occasions, but I couldn’tsqueezeatearformylife.’

Heonlyansweredwithakiss,andpressedherstillclosertohisbosom.

‘Butwhatisthis?’hemurmured.‘Why,Esther,you’recryingnow!’

‘Oh, it’snothing—it’sonly toomuchhappiness—and thewish,’ sobbedshe,‘thatourdearHelenwereashappyasourselves.’

‘Bless you for thatwish!’ I inwardly responded, as the carriage rolled away—‘andheavengrantitbenotwhollyvain!’

I thought a cloud had suddenly darkened her husband’s face as she spoke.Whatdidhethink?Couldhegrudgesuchhappinesstohisdearsisterandhisfriend as he now felt himself? At such amoment it was impossible. Thecontrastbetweenher fateandhismustdarkenhisbliss fora time. Perhaps,too,hethoughtofme:perhapsheregrettedtheparthehadhadinpreventingour union, by omitting to help us, if not by actually plotting against us. Iexonerated him from that charge now, and deeply lamented my formerungeneroussuspicions;buthehadwrongedus,still—Ihoped,Itrustedthathehad. He had not attempted to cheek the course of our love by actuallydamming up the streams in their passage, but he had passivelywatched thetwocurrentswanderingthroughlife’saridwilderness,decliningtoclearawaytheobstructions thatdivided them,and secretlyhoping thatbothwould losethemselvesinthesandbeforetheycouldbejoinedinone.Andmeantimehehadbeenquietlyproceedingwithhisownaffairs;perhaps,hisheartandheadhadbeensofullofhisfairladythathehadhadbutlittlethoughttospareforothers. Doubtless he had made his first acquaintance with her—his firstintimateacquaintanceatleast—duringhisthreemonths’sojournatF—,forInowrecollected thathehadoncecasually let fall an intimation thathisauntandsisterhadayoungfriendstayingwiththematthetime,andthisaccountedforatleastone-halfhissilenceaboutalltransactionsthere.Now,too,Isawareasonformany little things thathadslightlypuzzledmebefore;among therest, for sundry departures from Woodford, and absences more or lessprolonged,forwhichheneversatisfactorilyaccounted,andconcerningwhichhehatedtobequestionedonhisreturn.Wellmighttheservantsayhismasterwas ‘very close.’ But why this strange reserve to me? Partly, from thatremarkableidiosyncrasytowhichIhavebeforealluded;partly,perhaps,fromtendernesstomyfeelings,orfeartodisturbmyphilosophybytouchingupontheinfectiousthemeoflove.

CHAPTERLII

The tardygighadovertakenmeat last. Ientered it,andbade themanwhobroughtitdrivetoGrassdaleManor—Iwastoobusywithmyownthoughtstocare to drive it myself. I would see Mrs. Huntingdon—there could be noimproprietyinthatnowthatherhusbandhadbeendeadaboveayear—andbyherindifferenceorherjoyatmyunexpectedarrivalIcouldsoontellwhetherherheartwas trulymine. Butmycompanion,a loquacious, forward fellow,wasnotdisposedtoleavemetotheindulgenceofmyprivatecogitations.

‘There theygo!’ saidhe,as thecarriages filedawaybeforeus. ‘There’llbebravedoingsonyonder to-day, aswhat come to-morra.—Knowanythingof

thatfamily,sir?oryou’reastrangerintheseparts?’

‘Iknowthembyreport.’

‘Humph!There’sthebestof’emgone,anyhow.AndIsupposetheoldmissisis agoing to leave after this stir’s gotten overed, and take herself off,somewhere, to liveonher bit of a jointure; and the young ’un—at least thenew’un(she’snonesoveryyoung)—iscomingdowntoliveattheGrove.’

‘IsMr.Hargravemarried,then?’

‘Ay,sir,afewmonthssince.Heshouldabeenwedafore,toawidowlady,buttheycouldn’tagreeoverthemoney:she’dararelongpurse,andMr.Hargravewanted itall tohisself;butshewouldn’t let itgo,andso then theyfellout.This one isn’t quite as rich, nor as handsome either, but she hasn’t beenmarriedbefore.She’sveryplain,theysay,andgettingontofortyorpast,andso,youknow,ifshedidn’tjumpatthishopportunity,shethoughtshe’dnevergetabetter.Iguessshethoughtsuchahandsomeyounghusbandwasworthall‘atevershehad,andhemighttakeitandwelcome,butIlayshe’llrueherbargain afore long. They say she begins already to see ‘at he isn’t notaltogether that nice, generous, perlite, delightful gentleman ‘at she thoughthim aforemarriage—he begins a being careless andmasterful already. Ay,andshe’llfindhimharderandcarelessernorshethinkson.’

‘Youseemtobewellacquaintedwithhim,’Iobserved.

‘Iam,sir;I’veknownhimsincehewasquiteayounggentleman;andaproud’unhewas,andawilful.Iwasservantyonderforseveralyears;butIcouldn’tstand theirniggardlyways—shegot ever longerandworse,didmissis,withhernipping and screwing, andwatching andgrudging; so I thought I’d findanotherplace.’

‘Arewenotnearthehouse?’saidI,interruptinghim.

‘Yes,sir;yond’sthepark.’

My heart sankwithinme to behold that statelymansion in themidst of itsexpansivegrounds.Theparkasbeautifulnow,initswintrygarb,asitcouldbe in its summer glory: the majestic sweep, the undulating swell and fall,displayed to full advantage in that robe of dazzling purity, stainless andprintless—saveonelong,windingtrackleftbythetroopingdeer—thestatelytimber-treeswiththeirheavy-ladenbranchesgleamingwhiteagainstthedull,greysky;thedeep,encirclingwoods;thebroadexpanseofwatersleepinginfrozen quiet; and the weeping ash and willow drooping their snow-cladboughsabove it—allpresentedapicture, striking indeed, andpleasing toanunencumberedmind, but by no means encouraging to me. There was onecomfort, however,—all this was entailed upon little Arthur, and could not

underanycircumstances,strictlyspeaking,behismother’s.Buthowwasshesituated? Overcoming with a sudden effort my repugnance tomention hername tomy garrulous companion, I asked him if he knewwhether her latehusbandhadleftawill,andhowthepropertyhadbeendisposedof.Oh,yes,heknewallaboutit;andIwasquicklyinformedthattoherhadbeenleftthefullcontrolandmanagementof theestateduringher son’sminority,besidestheabsolute,unconditionalpossessionofherownfortune(butIknewthatherfather hadnot givenhermuch), and the small additional sum that hadbeensettleduponherbeforemarriage.

Beforethecloseoftheexplanationwedrewupatthepark-gates.Nowforthetrial.IfIshouldfindherwithin—butalas!shemightbestillatStaningley:herbrotherhadgivenmenointimationtothecontrary.Iinquiredattheporter’slodgeifMrs.Huntingdonwereathome.No,shewaswithherauntin—shire,butwasexpected to returnbeforeChristmas. Sheusuallyspentmostofhertime at Staningley, only coming to Grassdale occasionally, when themanagementofaffairs,ortheinterestofhertenantsanddependents,requiredherpresence.

‘Nearwhat town isStaningley situated?’ I asked. The requisite informationwassoonobtained.‘Nowthen,myman,givemethereins,andwe’llreturntoM—.Imusthavesomebreakfastatthe“RoseandCrown,”andthenawaytoStaningleybythefirstcoachfor—.’

AtM— I had time before the coach started to replenish my forces with ahearty breakfast, and to obtain the refreshment of my usual morning’sablutions,andtheameliorationofsomeslightchangeinmytoilet,andalsotodespatch a short note tomymother (excellent son that Iwas), to assureherthatIwasstillinexistence,andtoexcusemynon-appearanceattheexpectedtime.ItwasalongjourneytoStaningleyforthoseslow-travellingdays,butIdidnotdenymyselfneedfulrefreshmentontheroad,norevenanight’srestatawayside inn, choosing rather tobrooka littledelay than topresentmyselfworn,wild,andweather-beatenbeforemymistressandheraunt,whowouldbeastonishedenoughtoseemewithoutthat. Nextmorning,therefore,Inotonly fortified myself with as substantial a breakfast as my excited feelingswouldallowmetoswallow,butIbestowedalittlemorethanusualtimeandcare upon my toilet; and, furnished with a change of linen frommy smallcarpet-bag,well-brushedclothes,well-polishedboots,andneatnewgloves,Imounted‘TheLightning,’andresumedmyjourney. Ihadnearly twostagesyet before me, but the coach, I was informed, passed through theneighbourhoodofStaningley,andhavingdesired tobe setdownasnear theHallaspossible,Ihadnothingtodobuttositwithfoldedarmsandspeculateuponthecominghour.

Itwasaclear,frostymorning.Theveryfactofsittingexaltedaloft,surveyingthesnowylandscapeandsweetsunnysky,inhalingthepure,bracingair,andcrunchingawayoverthecrispfrozensnow,wasexhilaratingenoughinitself;butaddtothistheideaoftowhatgoalIwashastening,andwhomIexpectedtomeet,andyoumayhavesomefaintconceptionofmyframeofmindatthetime—onlyafaintone,though:formyheartswelledwithunspeakabledelight,andmyspiritsrosealmost tomadness, inspiteofmyprudentendeavours tobind them down to a reasonable platitude by thinking of the undeniabledifferencebetweenHelen’srankandmine;ofallthatshehadpassedthroughsinceourparting;ofher long,unbrokensilence;and,aboveall,ofhercool,cautious aunt, whose counsels she would doubtless be careful not to slightagain.Theseconsiderationsmademyheartflutterwithanxiety,andmychestheavewithimpatiencetogetthecrisisover;buttheycouldnotdimherimagein my mind, or mar the vivid recollection of what had been said and feltbetweenus,ordestroythekeenanticipationofwhatwastobe:infact,Icouldnot realise their terrors now. Towards the close of the journey, however, acoupleofmyfellow-passengerskindlycametomyassistance,andbroughtmelowenough.

‘Finelandthis,’saidoneofthem,pointingwithhisumbrellatothewidefieldsontheright,conspicuousfortheircompacthedgerows,deep,well-cutditches,and fine timber-trees, growing sometimes on the borders, sometimes in themidstoftheenclosure:‘veryfineland,ifyousawitinthesummerorspring.’

‘Ay,’respondedtheother,agruffelderlyman,withadrabgreatcoatbuttoneduptothechin,andacottonumbrellabetweenhisknees.‘It’soldMaxwell’s,Isuppose.’

‘It was his, sir; but he’s dead now, you’re aware, and has left it all to hisniece.’

‘All?’

‘Everyroodofit,andthemansion-houseandall!everyhatomofhisworldlygoods,exceptjustatrifle,bywayofremembrance,tohisnephewdownin—shire,andanannuitytohiswife.’

‘It’sstrange,sir!’

‘Itis,sir;andshewasn’thisownnieceneither.Buthehadnonearrelationsof his own—none but a nephew he’d quarrelledwith; and he always had apartiality for this one. And thenhiswife advisedhim to it, they say: she’dbroughtmostoftheproperty,anditwasherwishthatthisladyshouldhaveit.’

‘Humph!She’llbeafinecatchforsomebody.’

‘Shewillso.She’sawidow,butquiteyoungyet,anduncommonhandsome:a

fortuneofherown,besides,andonlyonechild,andshe’snursingafineestateforhimin—. There’llbe lots tospeakforher! ’fraid there’snochanceforuz’—(facetiouslyjoggingmewithhiselbow,aswellashiscompanion)—‘ha,ha, ha! No offence, sir, I hope?’—(tome). ‘Ahem! I should think she’llmarrynonebutanoblemanmyself.Lookye,sir,’resumedhe,turningtohisother neighbour, and pointing past me with his umbrella, ‘that’s the Hall:grandpark,yousee,andallthemwoods—plentyoftimberthere,andlotsofgame.Hallo!whatnow?’

Thisexclamationwasoccasionedbythesuddenstoppageofthecoachatthepark-gates.

‘Gen’lemanforStaningleyHall?’criedthecoachmanandIroseandthrewmycarpet-bagontotheground,preparatorytodroppingmyselfdownafterit.

‘Sickly,sir?’askedmytalkativeneighbour,staringmeintheface.Idaresayitwaswhiteenough.

‘No.Here,coachman!’

‘Thank’ee,sir.—Allright!’

Thecoachmanpocketedhisfeeanddroveaway,leavingme,notwalkingupthe park, but pacing to and fro before its gates,with folded arms, and eyesfixed upon the ground, an overwhelming force of images, thoughts,impressionscrowdingonmymind,andnothingtangiblydistinctbutthis:Mylove had been cherished in vain—my hope was gone for ever; I must tearmyself away at once, and banish or suppress all thoughts of her, like theremembranceofawild,maddream.GladlywouldIhavelingeredroundtheplace for hours, in the hope of catching at least one distant glimpse of herbefore Iwent,but itmustnotbe—Imustnot sufferher toseeme; forwhatcouldhavebroughtmehitherbutthehopeofrevivingherattachment,withaviewhereaftertoobtainherhand?AndcouldIbearthatsheshouldthinkmecapableof sucha thing?—ofpresumingupon theacquaintance—the love, ifyouwill—accidentallycontracted,orratherforceduponheragainstherwill,when shewas an unknown fugitive, toiling for her own support, apparentlywithoutfortune,family,orconnections;tocomeuponhernow,whenshewasreinstatedinherpropersphere,andclaimashareinherprosperity,which,hadit never failed her, wouldmost certainly have kept her unknown tome forever? And this, too,whenwe had parted sixteenmonths ago, and she hadexpresslyforbiddenmetohopeforare-unioninthisworld,andneversentmealineoramessagefromthatdaytothis.No!Theveryideawasintolerable.

And even if she should have a lingering affection for me still, ought I todisturbherpeacebyawakeningthosefeelings?tosubjecthertothestrugglesof conflicting duty and inclination—to whichsoever side the latter might

allure, or the former imperatively call her—whether she should deem it herdutytorisktheslightsandcensuresoftheworld,thesorrowanddispleasureof those she loved, for a romantic idea of truth and constancy tome, or tosacrificeherindividualwishestothefeelingsofherfriendsandherownsenseofprudenceandthefitnessofthings?No—andIwouldnot! Iwouldgoatonce,andsheshouldneverknowthatIhadapproachedtheplaceofherabode:for though Imightdisclaimall ideaofeveraspiring toherhand,orevenofsolicitingaplaceinherfriendlyregard,herpeaceshouldnotbebrokenbymypresence,norherheartafflictedbythesightofmyfidelity.

‘Adieuthen,dearHelen,forever!Foreveradieu!’

Sosaid I—andyet Icouldnot tearmyselfaway. Imoveda fewpaces,andthenlookedback,foronelastviewofherstatelyhome,thatImighthaveitsoutward form, at least, impressed upon my mind as indelibly as her ownimage,which,alas!Imustnotseeagain—thenwalkedafewstepsfurther;andthen, lost inmelancholymusings,pausedagainand leantmybackagainst arougholdtreethatgrewbesidetheroad.

CHAPTERLIII

While standing thus, absorbed inmygloomyreverie, agentleman’scarriagecameroundthecorneroftheroad.Ididnotlookatit;andhaditrolledquietlybyme, Ishouldnothaveremembered thefactof itsappearanceatall;butatinyvoicefromwithinitrousedmebyexclaiming,‘Mamma,mamma,here’sMr.Markham!’

Ididnothearthereply,butpresentlythesamevoiceanswered,‘Itisindeed,mamma—lookforyourself.’

Ididnotraisemyeyes,butIsupposemammalooked,foraclearmelodiousvoice,whose tones thrilled throughmynerves, exclaimed, ‘Oh, aunt! here’sMr.Markham,Arthur’sfriend!Stop,Richard!’

There was such evidence of joyous though suppressed excitement in theutteranceof those fewwords—especially that tremulous, ‘Oh, aunt’—that itthrew me almost off my guard. The carriage stopped immediately, and Ilookedupandmettheeyeofapale,grave,elderlyladysurveyingmefromtheopen window. She bowed, and so did I, and then she withdrew her head,while Arthur screamed to the footman to let him out; but before thatfunctionarycoulddescendfromhisboxahandwassilentlyputforthfromthecarriage window. I knew that hand, though a black glove concealed itsdelicate whiteness and half its fair proportions, and quickly seizing it, I

pressed it in my own—ardently for a moment, but instantly recollectingmyself,Idroppedit,anditwasimmediatelywithdrawn.

‘Wereyoucomingtoseeus,oronlypassingby?’asked the lowvoiceof itsowner,who,Ifelt,wasattentivelysurveyingmycountenancefrombehindthethickblackveilwhich,withtheshadowingpanels,entirelyconcealedherownfromme.

‘I—Icametoseetheplace,’falteredI.

‘The place,’ repeated she, in a tone which betokened more displeasure ordisappointmentthansurprise.

‘Willyounotenterit,then?’

‘Ifyouwishit.’

‘Canyoudoubt?’

‘Yes,yes!hemustenter,’criedArthur,runningroundfromtheotherdoor;andseizingmyhandinbothhis,heshookitheartily.

‘Doyourememberme,sir?’saidhe.

‘Yes,fullwell,mylittleman,alteredthoughyouare,’repliedI,surveyingthecomparatively tall, slim young gentleman, with his mother’s image visiblystampeduponhis fair, intelligent features, in spiteof theblueeyesbeamingwithgladness,andthebrightlocksclusteringbeneathhiscap.

‘AmInotgrown?’saidhe,stretchinghimselfuptohisfullheight.

‘Grown!threeinches,uponmyword!’

‘Iwas seven lastbirthday,’was theproud rejoinder. ‘In sevenyearsmore Ishallbeastallasyounearly.’

‘Arthur,’saidhismother,‘tellhimtocomein.Goon,Richard.’

Therewasatouchofsadnessaswellascoldnessinhervoice,butIknewnottowhattoascribeit.Thecarriagedroveonandenteredthegatesbeforeus.My little companion led me up the park, discoursing merrily all the way.Arrivedatthehall-door,Ipausedonthestepsandlookedroundme,waitingtorecover my composure, if possible—or, at any rate, to remember my new-formedresolutionsandtheprinciplesonwhichtheywerefounded;anditwasnot tillArthurhadbeenforsometimegentlypullingmycoat,andrepeatinghis invitations toenter, that Iat lengthconsented toaccompanyhiminto theapartmentwheretheladiesawaitedus.

HeleneyedmeasIenteredwithakindofgentle,seriousscrutiny,andpolitelyaskedafterMrs.MarkhamandRose. I respectfullyansweredher inquiries.

Mrs.Maxwellbeggedme tobeseated,observing itwas rathercold,butshesupposedIhadnottravelledfarthatmorning.

‘Notquitetwentymiles,’Ianswered.

‘Notonfoot!’

‘No,Madam,bycoach.’

‘Here’s Rachel, sir,’ said Arthur, the only truly happy one amongst us,directingmyattentiontothatworthyindividual,whohadjustenteredtotakeher mistress’s things. She vouchsafed me an almost friendly smile ofrecognition—a favour that demanded, at least, a civil salutationonmypart,which was accordingly given and respectfully returned—she had seen theerrorofherformerestimationofmycharacter.

WhenHelenwasdivestedofherlugubriousbonnetandveil,herheavywintercloak,&c., she lookedso likeherself that Iknewnothow tobear it. Iwasparticularly glad to see her beautiful black hair, unstinted still, andunconcealedinitsglossyluxuriance.

‘Mammahasleftoffherwidow’scapinhonourofuncle’smarriage,’observedArthur, readingmy lookswithachild’smingledsimplicityandquicknessofobservation.MammalookedgraveandMrs.Maxwellshookherhead.‘AndauntMaxwellisnevergoingtoleaveoffhers,’persistedthenaughtyboy;butwhen he saw that his pertness was seriously displeasing and painful to hisaunt,hewentandsilentlyputhisarmroundherneck,kissedhercheek,andwithdrew to the recess of one of the great bay-windows, where he quietlyamusedhimselfwithhisdog,whileMrs.Maxwellgravelydiscussedwithmetheinterestingtopicsof theweather, theseason,andtheroads. Iconsideredherpresenceveryusefulasacheckuponmynaturalimpulses—anantidotetothoseemotionsoftumultuousexcitementwhichwouldotherwisehavecarriedme away against my reason and my will; but just then I felt the restraintalmostintolerable,andIhadthegreatestdifficultyinforcingmyselftoattendtoher remarksandanswer themwithordinarypoliteness; for IwassensiblethatHelenwasstandingwithinafewfeetofmebesidethefire. Idarednotlookather,butIfelthereyewasuponme,andfromonehasty,furtiveglance,I thoughther cheekwas slightly flushed, and thather fingers, as sheplayedwithherwatch-chain,wereagitatedwiththatrestless,tremblingmotionwhichbetokenshighexcitement.

‘Tell me,’ said she, availing herself of the first pause in the attemptedconversation between her aunt andme, and speaking fast and low,with hereyes bent on the gold chain—for I now ventured another glance—‘TellmehowyouallareatLinden-hope—hasnothinghappenedsinceIleftyou?’

‘Ibelievenot.’

‘Nobodydead?nobodymarried?’

‘No.’

‘Or—orexpectingtomarry?—Nooldtiesdissolvedornewonesformed?nooldfriendsforgottenorsupplanted?’

She dropped her voice so low in the last sentence that no one could havecaughttheconcludingwordsbutmyself,andatthesametimeturnedhereyesuponmewithadawningsmile,mostsweetlymelancholy,andalookoftimidthoughkeeninquirythatmademycheekstinglewithinexpressibleemotions.

‘Ibelievenot,’Ianswered.‘Certainlynot,ifothersareaslittlechangedasI.’Herfaceglowedinsympathywithmine.

‘Andyoureallydidnotmeantocall?’sheexclaimed.

‘Ifearedtointrude.’

‘Tointrude!’criedshe,withanimpatientgesture.‘What—‘butasifsuddenlyrecollectingheraunt’spresence,shecheckedherself,and,turningtothatlady,continued—‘Why, aunt, this man is my brother’s close friend, and wasmyownintimateacquaintance(forafewshortmonthsat least),andprofessedagreatattachmenttomyboy—andwhenhepassesthehouse,somanyscoresofmilesfromhishome,hedeclinestolookinforfearofintruding!’

‘Mr.Markhamisover-modest,’observedMrs.Maxwell.

‘Over-ceremoniousrather,’saidherniece—‘over—well,it’snomatter.’Andturningfromme,sheseatedherself inachairbeside the table,andpullingabooktoherbythecover,begantoturnovertheleavesinanenergetickindofabstraction.

‘IfIhadknown,’saidI,‘thatyouwouldhavehonouredmebyrememberingmeasanintimateacquaintance,Imost likelyshouldnothavedeniedmyselfthe pleasure of calling upon you, but I thought you had forgotten me longago.’

‘Youjudgedofothersbyyourself,’mutteredshewithoutraisinghereyesfromthebook,butreddeningasshespoke,andhastilyturningoveradozenleavesatonce.

Therewasapause,ofwhichArthurthoughthemightventuretoavailhimselftointroducehishandsomeyoungsetter,andshowmehowwonderfullyitwasgrownandimproved,andtoaskafter thewelfareof itsfatherSancho. Mrs.Maxwellthenwithdrewtotakeoffherthings.Helenimmediatelypushedthebookfromher,andaftersilentlysurveyingherson,hisfriend,andhisdogfor

a fewmoments, she dismissed the former from the room under pretence ofwishinghim to fetchhis lastnewbook toshowme. Thechildobeyedwithalacrity;butIcontinuedcaressingthedog.Thesilencemighthavelastedtillitsmaster’sreturn,haditdependedonmetobreakit;but,inhalfaminuteorless,my hostess impatiently rose, and, taking her former station on the rugbetweenmeandthechimneycorner,earnestlyexclaimed—

‘Gilbert,whatisthematterwithyou?—whyareyousochanged?Itisaveryindiscreetquestion,Iknow,’shehastenedtoadd:‘perhapsaveryrudeone—don’tansweritifyouthinkso—butIhatemysteriesandconcealments.’

‘Iamnotchanged,Helen—unfortunatelyIamaskeenandpassionateasever—itisnotI,itiscircumstancesthatarechanged.’

‘What circumstances? Do tellme!’ Her cheekwasblanchedwith theveryanguish of anxiety—could it bewith the fear that I had rashly pledgedmyfaithtoanother?

‘I’lltellyouatonce,’saidI.‘IwillconfessthatIcamehereforthepurposeofseeingyou (notwithout somemonitorymisgivings atmyownpresumption,andfearsthatIshouldbeaslittlewelcomeasexpectedwhenIcame),butIdidnot know that this estatewasyoursuntil enlightenedon the subject of yourinheritanceby theconversationof two fellow-passengers in the last stageofmyjourney;andthenIsawatoncethefollyofthehopesIhadcherished,andthemadnessofretainingthemamomentlonger;andthoughIalightedatyourgates,Ideterminednot toenterwithin them;I lingeredafewminutes toseetheplace,butwasfullyresolvedtoreturntoM—withoutseeingitsmistress.’

‘AndifmyauntandIhadnotbeenjustreturningfromourmorningdrive,Ishouldhaveseenandheardnomoreofyou?’

‘I thought itwouldbebetter forboth thatweshouldnotmeet,’ replied I, ascalmlyas I could,butnotdaring to speakabovemybreath, fromconsciousinability to steady my voice, and not daring to look in her face lest myfirmness should forsakeme altogether. ‘I thought an interviewwould onlydisturbyourpeaceandmaddenme.ButIamglad,now,ofthisopportunityofseeing you oncemore and knowing that you have not forgottenme, and ofassuringyouthatIshallneverceasetorememberyou.’

Therewasamoment’spause.Mrs.Huntingdonmovedaway,andstoodintherecessofthewindow.Didsheregardthisasanintimationthatmodestyalonepreventedmefromaskingherhand?andwassheconsideringhowtorepulsemewith thesmallest injury tomyfeelings? Before Icouldspeak to relieveherfromsuchaperplexity,shebrokethesilenceherselfbysuddenlyturningtowardsmeandobserving—

‘Youmighthavehadsuchanopportunitybefore—as far, Imean,as regardsassuring me of your kindly recollections, and yourself of mine, if you hadwrittentome.’

‘Iwouldhavedoneso,butIdidnotknowyouraddress,anddidnotliketoaskyourbrother,becauseIthoughthewouldobjecttomywriting;butthiswouldnothavedeterredme foramoment, if I couldhaveventured tobelieve thatyouexpectedtohearfromme,orevenwastedathoughtuponyourunhappyfriend;butyoursilencenaturallyledmetoconcludemyselfforgotten.’

‘Didyouexpectmetowritetoyou,then?’

‘No, Helen—Mrs. Huntingdon,’ said I, blushing at the implied imputation,‘certainlynot;butifyouhadsentmeamessagethroughyourbrother,orevenaskedhimaboutmenowandthen—’

‘Ididaskaboutyoufrequently. Iwasnotgoingtodomore,’continuedshe,smiling,‘solongasyoucontinuedtorestrictyourselftoafewpoliteinquiriesaboutmyhealth.’

‘Yourbrothernevertoldmethatyouhadmentionedmyname.’

‘Didyoueveraskhim?’

‘No; for I sawhedidnotwish to bequestioned about you, or to afford theslightestencouragementorassistancetomytooobstinateattachment.’Helendid not reply. ‘And hewas perfectly right,’ added I. But she remained insilence, looking out upon the snowy lawn. ‘Oh, I will relieve her of mypresence,’thoughtI;andimmediatelyIroseandadvancedtotakeleave,withamostheroicresolution—butpridewasatthebottomofit,oritcouldnothavecarriedmethrough.

‘Are you going already?’ said she, taking the hand I offered, and notimmediatelylettingitgo.

‘WhyshouldIstayanylonger?’

‘WaittillArthurcomes,atleast.’

Only too glad to obey, I stood and leant against the opposite side of thewindow.

‘You told me you were not changed,’ said my companion: ‘you are—verymuchso.’

‘No,Mrs.Huntingdon,Ionlyoughttobe.’

‘Doyoumeantomaintainthatyouhavethesameregardformethatyouhadwhenlastwemet?’

‘Ihave;butitwouldbewrongtotalkofitnow.’

‘Itwaswrong to talkof it then,Gilbert; itwouldnotnow—unless todo sowouldbetoviolatethetruth.’

I was too much agitated to speak; but, without waiting for an answer, sheturnedawayherglisteningeyeandcrimsoncheek,andthrewupthewindowand lookedout,whether to calmherown, excited feelings, or to relieveherembarrassment,oronlytopluckthatbeautifulhalf-blownChristmas-rosethatgrew upon the little shrub without, just peeping from the snow that hadhitherto,nodoubt,defended it fromthefrost,andwasnowmeltingaway inthe sun. Pluck it, however, shedid, andhavinggentlydashed theglitteringpowderfromitsleaves,approachedittoherlipsandsaid:

‘This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flower, but it has stood throughhardships none of them could bear: the cold rain of winter has sufficed tonourishit,anditsfaintsuntowarmit;thebleakwindshavenotblanchedit,orbrokenitsstem,andthekeenfrosthasnotblightedit.Look,Gilbert,itisstillfreshandbloomingasa flowercanbe,with thecold snowevennowon itspetals.—Willyouhaveit?’

Iheldoutmyhand:Idarednotspeaklestmyemotionshouldovermasterme.Shelaidtheroseacrossmypalm,butIscarcelyclosedmyfingersuponit,sodeeplywas Iabsorbed in thinkingwhatmightbe themeaningofherwords,andwhatIoughttodoorsayupontheoccasion;whethertogivewaytomyfeelingsorrestrainthemstill. Misconstruingthishesitationintoindifference—orreluctanceeven—toaccepthergift,Helensuddenlysnatcheditfrommyhand, threw itouton to thesnow,shutdown thewindowwithanemphasis,andwithdrewtothefire.

‘Helen, what means this?’ I cried, electrified at this startling change in herdemeanour.

‘Youdidnotunderstandmygift,’saidshe—‘or,whatisworse,youdespisedit. I’m sorry I gave it you; but since I didmake such amistake, the onlyremedyIcouldthinkofwastotakeitaway.’

‘Youmisunderstoodmecruelly,’ I replied,and inaminute Ihadopened thewindowagain,leapedout,pickeduptheflower,broughtitin,andpresentedittoher,imploringhertogiveitmeagain,andIwouldkeepitforeverforhersake,andprizeitmorehighlythananythingintheworldIpossessed.

‘Andwillthiscontentyou?’saidshe,asshetookitinherhand.

‘Itshall,’Ianswered.

‘There,then;takeit.’

I pressed it earnestly tomy lips, and put it inmy bosom,Mrs.Huntingdonlookingonwithahalf-sarcasticsmile.

‘Now,areyougoing?’saidshe.

‘Iwillif—ifImust.’

‘Youare changed,’persisted she—‘youaregrowneitherveryproudorveryindifferent.’

‘Iamneither,Helen—Mrs.Huntingdon.Ifyoucouldseemyheart—’

‘You must be one,—if not both. And why Mrs. Huntingdon?—why notHelen,asbefore?’

‘Helen,then—dearHelen!’Imurmured.Iwasinanagonyofmingledlove,hope,delight,uncertainty,andsuspense.

‘TheroseIgaveyouwasanemblemofmyheart,’saidshe;‘wouldyoutakeitawayandleavemeherealone?’

‘Wouldyougivemeyourhandtoo,ifIaskedit?’

‘Have I not said enough?’ she answered, with a most enchanting smile. Isnatchedherhand,andwouldhaveferventlykissedit,butsuddenlycheckedmyself,andsaid,—

‘Buthaveyouconsideredtheconsequences?’

‘Hardly,Ithink,orIshouldnothaveofferedmyselftoonetooproudtotakeme,ortooindifferenttomakehisaffectionoutweighmyworldlygoods.’

StupidblockheadthatIwas!—Itrembledtoclaspher inmyarms,butdarednotbelieveinsomuchjoy,andyetrestrainedmyselftosay,—

‘Butifyoushouldrepent!’

‘It would be your fault,’ she replied: ‘I never shall, unless you bitterlydisappoint me. If you have not sufficient confidence in my affection tobelievethis,letmealone.’

‘My darling angel—my own Helen,’ cried I, now passionately kissing thehand I still retained, and throwingmy left armaroundher, ‘younever shallrepent, if it depend on me alone. But have you thought of your aunt?’ Itrembledfortheanswer,andclaspedherclosertomyheartintheinstinctivedreadoflosingmynew-foundtreasure.

‘Myauntmustnotknowofityet,’saidshe.‘Shewouldthinkitarash,wildstep,becauseshecouldnotimaginehowwellIknowyou;butshemustknowyouherself, and learn to likeyou. Youmust leaveusnow,after lunch,and

comeagaininspring,andmakealongerstay,andcultivateheracquaintance,andIknowyouwilllikeeachother.’

‘Andthenyouwillbemine,’saidI,printingakissuponherlips,andanother,andanother;forIwasasdaringandimpetuousnowasIhadbeenbackwardandconstrainedbefore.

‘No—in another year,’ replied she, gently disengaging herself from myembrace,butstillfondlyclaspingmyhand.

‘Anotheryear!Oh,Helen,Icouldnotwaitsolong!’

‘Whereisyourfidelity?’

‘ImeanIcouldnotendurethemiseryofsolongaseparation.’

‘It would not be a separation: we will write every day: my spirit shall bealwayswithyou,andsometimesyoushallseemewithyourbodilyeye.IwillnotbesuchahypocriteastopretendthatIdesiretowaitsolongmyself,butasmymarriageistopleasemyself,alone,Ioughttoconsultmyfriendsaboutthetimeofit.’

‘Yourfriendswilldisapprove.’

‘Theywillnotgreatlydisapprove,dearGilbert,’saidshe,earnestlykissingmyhand;‘theycannot,whentheyknowyou,or,iftheycould,theywouldnotbetrue friends—I should not care for their estrangement. Now are yousatisfied?’Shelookedupinmyfacewithasmileofineffabletenderness.

‘CanIbeotherwise,withyourlove?Andyoudoloveme,Helen?’saidI,notdoubting the fact, but wishing to hear it confirmed by her ownacknowledgment.‘IfyoulovedasIdo,’sheearnestlyreplied,‘youwouldnothavesonearlylostme—thesescruplesoffalsedelicacyandpridewouldneverthus have troubled you—you would have seen that the greatest worldlydistinctions and discrepancies of rank, birth, and fortune are as dust in thebalancecomparedwiththeunityofaccordantthoughtsandfeelings,andtrulyloving,sympathisingheartsandsouls.’

‘But this is too much happiness,’ said I, embracing her again; ‘I have notdeservedit,Helen—Idarenotbelieveinsuchfelicity:andthelongerIhavetowait,thegreaterwillbemydreadthatsomethingwillintervenetosnatchyoufromme—andthink,athousandthingsmayhappeninayear!—Ishallbeinone long fever of restless terror and impatience all the time. And besides,winterissuchadrearyseason.’

‘Ithoughtsotoo,’repliedshegravely:‘Iwouldnotbemarriedinwinter—inDecember, at least,’ she added, with a shudder—for in that month hadoccurred both the ill-starred marriage that had bound her to her former

husband,andtheterribledeaththatreleasedher—‘andthereforeIsaidanotheryear,inspring.’

‘Nextspring?’

‘No,no—nextautumn,perhaps.’

‘Summer,then?’

‘Well,thecloseofsummer.Therenow!besatisfied.’

While shewas speakingArthur re-entered the room—goodboy for keepingoutsolong.

‘Mamma,Icouldn’tfindthebookineitheroftheplacesyoutoldmetolookforit’(therewasaconscioussomethinginmamma’ssmilethatseemedtosay,‘No,dear,Iknewyoucouldnot’),‘butRachelgotitformeatlast.Look,Mr.Markham, a natural history,with all kinds of birds and beasts in it, and thereadingasniceasthepictures!’

In great good humour I sat down to examine the book, and drew the littlefellow between my knees. Had he come a minute before I should havereceived him less graciously, but now I affectionately stroked his curlinglooks,andevenkissedhis ivory forehead:hewasmyownHelen’s son,andthereforemine;andassuchIhaveeversinceregardedhim.Thatprettychildisnowafineyoungman:hehasrealisedhismother’sbrightestexpectations,andisatpresentresidinginGrassdaleManorwithhisyoungwife—themerrylittleHelenHattersleyofyore.

IhadnotlookedthroughhalfthebookbeforeMrs.Maxwellappearedtoinviteme into the other room to lunch. That lady’s cool, distant manners ratherchilledmeatfirst;butIdidmybesttopropitiateher,andnotentirelywithoutsuccess, I think,even in that first shortvisit; forwhen I talkedcheerfully toher, she gradually becamemore kind and cordial, andwhen I departed shebademeagraciousadieu,hopingerelongtohavethepleasureofseeingmeagain.

‘But youmust not go till you have seen the conservatory,my aunt’swintergarden,’ said Helen, as I advanced to take leave of her, with as muchphilosophyandself-commandasIcouldsummontomyaid.

I gladly availedmyself of such a respite, and followed her into a large andbeautiful conservatory, plentifully furnished with flowers, considering theseason—but, of course, I had little attention to spare for them. It was not,however,foranytendercolloquythatmycompanionhadbroughtmethere:—

‘My aunt is particularly fond of flowers,’ she observed, ‘and she is fond ofStaningley too: I broughtyouhere tooffer apetition inherbehalf, that this

maybeherhomeaslongasshelives,and—ifitbenotourhomelikewise—thatImayoftenseeherandbewithher;forIfearshewillbesorrytoloseme;and though she leads a retired and contemplative life, she is apt toget low-spiritediflefttoomuchalone.’

‘Byallmeans,dearestHelen!—dowhatyouwillwithyourown.Ishouldnotdreamofwishingyouraunt to leave theplaceunderanycircumstances;andwewillliveeitherhereorelsewhereasyouandshemaydetermine,andyoushallseeherasoftenasyoulike.Iknowshemustbepainedtopartwithyou,and I amwilling tomake any reparation inmy power. I love her for yoursake,andherhappinessshallbeasdeartomeasthatofmyownmother.’

‘Thankyou,darling!youshallhaveakissfor that. Good-by. Therenow—there, Gilbert—let me go—here’s Arthur; don’t astonish his infantile brainwithyourmadness.’

Butitistimetobringmynarrativetoaclose.AnyonebutyouwouldsayIhadmadeittoolongalready.ButforyoursatisfactionIwilladdafewwordsmore;becauseIknowyouwillhaveafellow-feelingfortheoldlady,andwillwish to know the last of her history. I did come again in spring, and,agreeably toHelen’s injunctions, didmybest to cultivate her acquaintance.Shereceivedmeverykindly,havingbeen,doubtless,alreadypreparedtothinkhighlyofmycharacterbyherniece’stoofavourablereport.Iturnedmybestsideout,ofcourse,andwegotalongmarvellouslywell together. Whenmyambitiousintentionsweremadeknowntoher,shetookitmoresensiblythanIhadventuredtohope.Heronlyremarkonthesubject,inmyhearing,was—

‘Andso,Mr.Markham,youaregoingtorobmeofmyniece,Iunderstand.Well! IhopeGodwillprosperyourunion,andmakemydeargirlhappyatlast. Could she have been contented to remain single, I own I should havebeen better satisfied; but if she must marry again, I know of no one, nowlivingandofasuitableage,towhomIwouldmorewillinglyresignherthanyourself,orwhowouldbemorelikelytoappreciateherworthandmake,hertrulyhappy,asfarasIcantell.’

Ofcourse Iwasdelightedwith thecompliment, andhoped to showher thatshewasnotmistakeninherfavourablejudgment.

‘Ihave,however,onerequesttooffer,’continuedshe.‘ItseemsIamstilltolook on Staningley asmy home: I wish you tomake it yours likewise, forHelen isattached to theplaceand tome—asIamtoher. TherearepainfulassociationsconnectedwithGrassdale,whichshecannoteasilyovercome;andIshallnotmolestyouwithmycompanyorinterferencehere:Iamaveryquietperson, and shallkeepmyownapartments, andattend tomyownconcerns,andonlyseeyounowandthen.’

Of course I most readily consented to this; and we lived in the greatestharmony with our dear aunt until the day of her death, which melancholyevent took place a few years after—melancholy, not to herself (for it camequietlyuponher,andshewasgladtoreachherjourney’send),butonlytothefewlovingfriendsandgratefuldependentssheleftbehind.

Toreturn,however,tomyownaffairs:Iwasmarriedinsummer,onagloriousAugustmorning.Ittookthewholeeightmonths,andallHelen’skindnessandgoodnesstoboot,toovercomemymother’sprejudicesagainstmybride-elect,andtoreconcilehertotheideaofmyleavingLindenGrangeandlivingsofaraway. Yet shewasgratifiedather son’sgood fortuneafter all, andproudlyattributeditalltohisownsuperiormeritsandendowments.Ibequeathedthefarm toFergus,with better hopesof its prosperity than I shouldhavehad ayearagoundersimilarcircumstances;forhehadlatelyfalleninlovewiththeVicarofL—’seldestdaughter—aladywhosesuperiorityhadrousedhislatentvirtues,andstimulatedhimtothemostsurprisingexertions,notonlytogainher affection and esteem, and to obtain a fortune sufficient to aspire to herhand,buttorenderhimselfworthyofher,inhisowneyes,aswellasinthoseofherparents;andintheendhewassuccessful,asyoualreadyknow.Asformyself, Ineednot tellyouhowhappilymyHelenandIhavelivedtogether,and how blessed we still are in each other’s society, and in the promisingyoungscionsthataregrowingupaboutus.Wearejustnowlookingforwardto theadventofyouandRose, for the timeofyourannualvisitdrawsnigh,when you must leave your dusty, smoky, noisy, toiling, striving city for aseasonofinvigoratingrelaxationandsocialretirementwithus.

Tillthen,farewell,GILBERTMARKHAM.

STANINGLEY:June10th,1847.

THEEND

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