The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Anne BrontĂ« (librera reader .txt) đ
- Author: Anne Brontë
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There was a perplexed and thoughtful pause.
âIs it in consequence of some rash vow?â
âIt is something of the kind,â she answered. âSome day I may tell you, but at present you had better leave me; and never, Gilbert, put me to the painful necessity of repeating what I have just now said to you,â she earnestly added, giving me her hand in serious kindness. How sweet, how musical my own name sounded in her mouth!
âI will not,â I replied. âBut you pardon this offence?â
âOn condition that you never repeat it.â
âAnd may I come to see you now and then?â
âPerhapsâ âoccasionally; provided you never abuse the privilege.â
âI make no empty promises, but you shall see.â
âThe moment you do our intimacy is at an end, thatâs all.â
âAnd will you always call me Gilbert? It sounds more sisterly, and it will serve to remind me of our contract.â
She smiled, and once more bid me go; and at length I judged it prudent to obey, and she re-entered the house and I went down the hill. But as I went the tramp of horsesâ hoofs fell on my ear, and broke the stillness of the dewy evening; and, looking towards the lane, I saw a solitary equestrian coming up. Inclining to dusk as it was, I knew him at a glance: it was Mr. Lawrence on his grey pony. I flew across the field, leaped the stone fence, and then walked down the lane to meet him. On seeing me, he suddenly drew in his little steed, and seemed inclined to turn back, but on second thought apparently judged it better to continue his course as before. He accosted me with a slight bow, and, edging close to the wall, endeavoured to pass on; but I was not so minded. Seizing his horse by the bridle, I exclaimedâ ââNow, Lawrence, I will have this mystery explained! Tell me where you are going, and what you mean to doâ âat once, and distinctly!â
âWill you take your hand off the bridle?â said he, quietlyâ ââyouâre hurting my ponyâs mouth.â
âYou and your pony beâ ââ
âWhat makes you so coarse and brutal, Markham? Iâm quite ashamed of you.â
âYou answer my questionsâ âbefore you leave this spot I will know what you mean by this perfidious duplicity!â
âI shall answer no questions till you let go the bridleâ âif you stand till morning.â
âNow then,â said I, unclosing my hand, but still standing before him.
âAsk me some other time, when you can speak like a gentleman,â returned he, and he made an effort to pass me again; but I quickly recaptured the pony, scarce less astonished than its master at such uncivil usage.
âReally, Mr. Markham, this is too much!â said the latter. âCan I not go to see my tenant on matters of business, without being assaulted in this manner byâ â?â
âThis is no time for business, sir!â âIâll tell you, now, what I think of your conduct.â
âYouâd better defer your opinion to a more convenient season,â interrupted he in a low toneâ ââhereâs the vicar.â And, in truth, the vicar was just behind me, plodding homeward from some remote corner of his parish. I immediately released the squire; and he went on his way, saluting Mr. Millward as he passed.
âWhat! quarrelling, Markham?â cried the latter, addressing himself to meâ ââand about that young widow, I doubt?â he added, reproachfully shaking his head. âBut let me tell you, young manâ (here he put his face into mine with an important, confidential air), âsheâs not worth it!â and he confirmed the assertion by a solemn nod.
âMr. Millward,â I exclaimed, in a tone of wrathful menace that made the reverend gentleman look roundâ âaghastâ âastounded at such unwonted insolence, and stare me in the face, with a look that plainly said, âWhat, this to me!â But I was too indignant to apologise, or to speak another word to him: I turned away, and hastened homewards, descending with rapid strides the steep, rough lane, and leaving him to follow as he pleased.
XIYou must suppose about three weeks passed over. Mrs. Graham and I were now established friendsâ âor brother and sister, as we rather chose to consider ourselves. She called me Gilbert, by my express desire, and I called her Helen, for I had seen that name written in her books. I seldom attempted to see her above twice a week; and still I made our meetings appear the result of accident as often as I couldâ âfor I found it necessary to be extremely carefulâ âand, altogether, I behaved with such exceeding propriety that she never had occasion to reprove me once. Yet I could not but perceive that she was at times unhappy and dissatisfied with herself or her position, and truly I myself was not quite contented with the latter: this assumption of brotherly nonchalance was very hard to sustain, and I often felt myself a most confounded hypocrite with it all; I saw too, or rather I felt, that, in spite of herself, âI was not indifferent to her,â as the novel heroes modestly express it, and while I thankfully enjoyed my present good fortune, I could not fail to wish and hope for something better in future; but, of course, I kept such dreams entirely to myself.
âWhere are you going, Gilbert?â said Rose, one evening, shortly after tea, when I had been busy with the farm all day.
âTo take a walk,â was the reply.
âDo you always brush your hat so carefully, and do your hair so nicely, and put on such smart new gloves when you take a walk?â
âNot always.â
âYouâre going to Wildfell Hall, arenât you?â
âWhat makes you think so?â
âBecause you look as if you wereâ âbut I wish you wouldnât go so often.â
âNonsense, child! I donât go once in six weeksâ âwhat do you mean?â
âWell, but if I were you, I wouldnât have so much to do with Mrs. Graham.â
âWhy, Rose, are you, too, giving in to the prevailing opinion?â
âNo,â returned she, hesitatinglyâ ââbut Iâve heard so much about her lately, both at the Wilsonsâ
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