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«
âIf you had no higher motive than the approval of your fellow-mortal, it would do you little good.â
âWell, but if I had a mate that would not always be yielding, and always equally kind, but that would have the spirit to stand at bay now and then, and honestly tell me her mind at all times, such a one as yourself for instance. Now, if I went on with you as I do with her when Iâm in London, youâd make the house too hot to hold me at times, Iâll be sworn.â
âYou mistake me: Iâm no termagant.â
âWell, all the better for that, for I canât stand contradiction, in a general way, and Iâm as fond of my own will as another; only I think too much of it doesnât answer for any man.â
âWell, I would never contradict you without a cause, but certainly I would always let you know what I thought of your conduct; and if you oppressed me, in body, mind, or estate, you should at least have no reason to suppose âI didnât mind it.âââ
âI know that, my lady; and I think if my little wife were to follow the same plan, it would be better for us both.â
âIâll tell her.â
âNo, no, let her be; thereâs much to be said on both sides, and, now I think upon it, Huntingdon often regrets that you are not more like her, scoundrelly dog that he is, and you see, after all, you canât reform him: heâs ten times worse than I. Heâs afraid of you, to be sure; that is, heâs always on his best behaviour in your presenceâ âbutâ ââ
âI wonder what his worst behaviour is like, then?â I could not forbear observing.
âWhy, to tell you the truth, itâs very bad indeedâ âisnât it, Hargrave?â said he, addressing that gentleman, who had entered the room unperceived by me, for I was now standing near the fire, with my back to the door. âIsnât Huntingdon,â he continued, âas great a reprobate as ever was dâ âžșâ d?â
âHis lady will not hear him censured with impunity,â replied Mr. Hargrave, coming forward; âbut I must say, I thank God I am not such another.â
âPerhaps it would become you better,â said I, âto look at what you are, and say, âGod be merciful to me a sinner.âââ
âYou are severe,â returned he, bowing slightly and drawing himself up with a proud yet injured air. Hattersley laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. Moving from under his hand with a gesture of insulted dignity, Mr. Hargrave took himself away to the other end of the rug.
âIsnât it a shame, Mrs. Huntingdon?â cried his brother-in-law; âI struck Walter Hargrave when I was drunk, the second night after we came, and heâs turned a cold shoulder on me ever since; though I asked his pardon the very morning after it was done!â
âYour manner of asking it,â returned the other, âand the clearness with which you remembered the whole transaction, showed you were not too drunk to be fully conscious of what you were about, and quite responsible for the deed.â
âYou wanted to interfere between me and my wife,â grumbled Hattersley, âand that is enough to provoke any man.â
âYou justify it, then?â said his opponent, darting upon him a most vindictive glance.
âNo, I tell you I wouldnât have done it if I hadnât been under excitement; and if you choose to bear malice for it after all the handsome things Iâve said, do so and be dâ âžșâ d!â
âI would refrain from such language in a ladyâs presence, at least,â said Mr. Hargrave, hiding his anger under a mask of disgust.
âWhat have I said?â returned Hattersley: ânothing but heavenâs truth. He will be damned, wonât he, Mrs. Huntingdon, if he doesnât forgive his brotherâs trespasses?â
âYou ought to forgive him, Mr. Hargrave, since he asks you,â said I.
âDo you say so? Then I will!â And, smiling almost frankly, he stepped forward and offered his hand. It was immediately clasped in that of his relative, and the reconciliation was apparently cordial on both sides.
âThe affront,â continued Hargrave, turning to me, âowed half its bitterness to the fact of its being offered in your presence; and since you bid me forgive it, I will, and forget it too.â
âI guess the best return I can make will be to take myself off,â muttered Hattersley, with a broad grin. His companion smiled, and he left the room. This put me on my guard. Mr. Hargrave turned seriously to me, and earnestly beganâ â
âDear Mrs. Huntingdon, how I have longed for, yet dreaded, this hour! Do not be alarmed,â he added, for my face was crimson with anger: âI am not about to offend you with any useless entreaties or complaints. I am not going to presume to trouble you with the mention of my own feelings or your perfections, but I have something to reveal to you which you ought to know, and which, yet, it pains me inexpressiblyâ ââ
âThen donât trouble yourself to reveal it!â
âBut it is of importanceâ ââ
âIf so I shall hear it soon enough, especially if it is bad news, as you seem to consider it. At present I am going to take the children to the nursery.â
âBut canât you ring and send them?â
âNo; I want the exercise of a run to the top of the house. Come, Arthur.â
âBut you will return?â
âNot yet; donât wait.â
âThen when may I see you again?â
âAt lunch,â said I, departing with little Helen in one arm and leading Arthur by the hand.
He turned away, muttering some sentence of impatient censure or complaint, in which âheartlessâ was the only distinguishable word.
âWhat nonsense is this, Mr. Hargrave?â said I, pausing in the doorway. âWhat do you mean?â
âOh, nothing; I did not intend you should hear my soliloquy. But the fact is, Mrs. Huntingdon, I have a disclosure to make, painful for me to offer as for you to hear; and I want you to give me
Comments (0)