The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Anne BrontĂ« (librera reader .txt) đ
- Author: Anne Brontë
Book online «The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Anne BrontĂ« (librera reader .txt) đ». Author Anne BrontĂ«
If you are at all interested in the fate of that low scoundrel, Grimsby, I can only tell you that he went from bad to worse, sinking from bathos to bathos of vice and villainy, consorting only with the worst members of his club and the lowest dregs of societyâ âhappily for the rest of the worldâ âand at last met his end in a drunken brawl, from the hands, it is said, of some brother scoundrel he had cheated at play.
As for Mr. Hattersley, he had never wholly forgotten his resolution to âcome out from among them,â and behave like a man and a Christian, and the last illness and death of his once jolly friend Huntingdon so deeply and seriously impressed him with the evil of their former practices, that he never needed another lesson of the kind. Avoiding the temptations of the town, he continued to pass his life in the country, immersed in the usual pursuits of a hearty, active, country gentleman; his occupations being those of farming, and breeding horses and cattle, diversified with a little hunting and shooting, and enlivened by the occasional companionship of his friends (better friends than those of his youth), and the society of his happy little wife (now cheerful and confiding as heart could wish), and his fine family of stalwart sons and blooming daughters. His father, the banker, having died some years ago and left him all his riches, he has now full scope for the exercise of his prevailing tastes, and I need not tell you that Ralph Hattersley, Esq., is celebrated throughout the country for his noble breed of horses.
LIWe will now turn to a certain still, cold, cloudy afternoon about the commencement of December, when the first fall of snow lay thinly scattered over the blighted fields and frozen roads, or stored more thickly in the hollows of the deep cart-ruts and footsteps of men and horses impressed in the now petrified mire of last monthâs drenching rains. I remember it well, for I was walking home from the vicarage with no less remarkable a personage than Miss Eliza Millward by my side. I had been to call upon her fatherâ âa sacrifice to civility undertaken entirely to please my mother, not myself, for I hated to go near the house; not merely on account of my antipathy to the once so bewitching Eliza, but because I had not half forgiven the old gentleman himself for his ill opinion of Mrs. Huntingdon; for though now constrained to acknowledge himself mistaken in his former judgment, he still maintained that she had done wrong to leave her husband; it was a violation of her sacred duties as a wife, and a tempting of Providence by laying herself open to temptation; and nothing short of bodily ill-usage (and that of no trifling nature) could excuse such a stepâ ânor even that, for in such a case she ought to appeal to the laws for protection. But it was not of him I intended to speak; it was of his daughter Eliza. Just as I was taking leave of the vicar, she entered the room, ready equipped for a walk.
âI was just coming to see your sister, Mr. Markham,â said she; âand so, if you have no objection, Iâll accompany you home. I like company when Iâm walking outâ âdonât you?â
âYes, when itâs agreeable.â
âThat of course,â rejoined the young lady, smiling archly. So we proceeded together.
âShall I find Rose at home, do you think?â said she, as we closed the garden gate, and set our faces towards Linden-Car.
âI believe so.â
âI trust I shall, for Iâve a little bit of news for herâ âif you havenât forestalled me.â
âI?â
âYes: do you know what Mr. Lawrence is gone for?â She looked up anxiously for my reply.
âIs he gone?â said I; and her face brightened.
âAh! then he hasnât told you about his sister?â
âWhat of her?â I demanded in terror, lest some evil should have befallen her.
âOh, Mr. Markham, how you blush!â cried she, with a tormenting laugh. âHa, ha, you have not forgotten her yet. But you had better be quick about it, I can tell you, forâ âalas, alas!â âsheâs going to be married next Thursday!â
âNo, Miss Eliza, thatâs false.â
âDo you charge me with a falsehood, sir?â
âYou are misinformed.â
âAm I? Do you know better, then?â
âI think I do.â
âWhat makes you look so pale then?â said she, smiling with delight at my emotion. âIs it anger at poor me for telling such a fib? Well, I only âtell the tale as âtwas told to me:â I donât vouch for the truth of it; but at the same time, I donât see what reason Sarah should have for deceiving me, or her informant for deceiving her; and that was what she told me the footman told her:â âthat Mrs. Huntingdon was going to be married on Thursday, and Mr. Lawrence was gone to the wedding. She did tell me the name of the gentleman, but Iâve forgotten that. Perhaps you can assist me to remember it. Is there not someone that lives nearâ âor frequently visits the neighbourhood, that has long been attached to her?â âa Mr.â âoh, dear! Mr.â ââ
âHargrave?â suggested I, with a bitter smile.
âYouâre right,â cried she; âthat was the very name.â
âImpossible, Miss Eliza!â I exclaimed, in a tone that made her start.
âWell, you know, thatâs what they told me,â said she, composedly staring me in the face. And then she broke out into a long shrill laugh that put me to my witâs end with fury.
âReally you must excuse me,â cried she. âI know itâs very rude, but ha, ha, ha!â âdid you think to marry her yourself? Dear, dear, what a pity!â âha, ha, ha! Gracious, Mr. Markham, are you going to faint? Oh, mercy! shall I
Comments (0)