The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë (sci fi books to read TXT) 📕

act in this way? Just imagine yourself in my place: would you think I loved you, if I did so? Would you believe my protestations, and honour and trust me under such circumstances?”

“The cases are different,” he replied. “It is a woman’s nature to be constant⁠—to love one and one only, blindly, tenderly, and forever⁠—bless them, dear creatures! and you above them all; but you must have some commiseration for us, Helen; you must give us a little more licence, for, as Shakespeare has it⁠—

However we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won
Than women’s are.”

“Do you mean by that, that your fancies are lost to me, and won by Lady Lowborough?”

“No! heaven is my witness that I think her mere dust and ashes in comparison with you, and shall continue to think so, unless you drive me from you by too much severity. She is a daughter of earth; you are an angel of heaven; only be not too austere in your divinity, and remember that I am a poor, fallible mortal. Come now, Helen; won’t you forgive me?” he said, gently taking my hand, and looking up with an innocent smile.

“If I do, you will repeat the offence.”

“I swear by⁠—”

“Don’t swear; I’ll believe your word as well as your oath. I wish I could have confidence in either.”

“Try me, then, Helen: only trust and pardon me this once, and you shall see! Come, I am in hell’s torments till you speak the word.”

I did not speak it, but I put my hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead, and then burst into tears. He embraced me tenderly; and we have been good friends ever since. He has been decently temperate at table, and well-conducted towards Lady Lowborough. The first day he held himself aloof from her, as far as he could without any flagrant breach of hospitality: since that he has been friendly and civil, but nothing more⁠—in my presence, at least, nor, I think, at any other time; for she seems haughty and displeased, and Lord Lowborough is manifestly more cheerful, and more cordial towards his host than before. But I shall be glad when they are gone, for I have so little love for Annabella that it is quite a task to be civil to her, and as she is the only woman here besides myself, we are necessarily thrown so much together. Next time Mrs. Hargrave calls I shall hail her advent as quite a relief. I have a good mind to ask Arthur’s leave to invite the old lady to stay with us till our guests depart. I think I will. She will take it as a kind attention, and, though I have little relish for her society, she will be truly welcome as a third to stand between Lady Lowborough and me.

The first time the latter and I were alone together, after that unhappy evening, was an hour or two after breakfast on the following day, when the gentlemen were gone out, after the usual time spent in the writing of letters, the reading of newspapers, and desultory conversation. We sat silent for two or three minutes. She was busy with her work, and I was running over the columns of a paper from which I had extracted all the pith some twenty minutes before. It was a moment of painful embarrassment to me, and I thought it must be infinitely more so to her; but it seems I was mistaken. She was the first to speak; and, smiling with the coolest assurance, she began⁠—

“Your husband was merry last night, Helen: is he often so?”

My blood boiled in my face; but it was better she should seem to attribute his conduct to this than to anything else.

“No,” replied I, “and never will be so again, I trust.”

“You gave him a curtain lecture, did you?”

“No! but I told him I disliked such conduct, and he promised me not to repeat it.”

“I thought he looked rather subdued this morning,” she continued; “and you, Helen? you’ve been weeping, I see⁠—that’s our grand resource, you know. But doesn’t it make your eyes smart? and do you always find it to answer?”

“I never cry for effect; nor can I conceive how anyone can.”

“Well, I don’t know: I never had occasion to try it; but I think if Lowborough were to commit such improprieties, I’d make him cry. I don’t wonder at your being angry, for I’m sure I’d give my husband a lesson he would not soon forget for a lighter offence than that. But then he never will do anything of the kind; for I keep him in too good order for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t arrogate too much of the credit to yourself? Lord Lowborough was quite as remarkable for his abstemiousness for some time before you married him, as he is now, I have heard.”

“Oh, about the wine you mean⁠—yes, he’s safe enough for that. And as to looking askance to another woman, he’s safe enough for that too, while I live, for he worships the very ground I tread on.”

“Indeed! and are you sure you deserve it?”

“Why, as to that, I can’t say: you know we’re all fallible creatures, Helen; we none of us deserve to be worshipped. But are you sure your darling Huntingdon deserves all the love you give to him?”

I knew not what to answer to this. I was burning with anger; but I suppressed all outward manifestations of it, and only bit my lip and pretended to arrange my work.

“At any rate,” resumed she, pursuing her advantage, “you can console yourself with the assurance that you are worthy of all the love he gives to you.”

“You flatter me,” said I; “but, at least, I can try to be worthy of it.” And then I turned the conversation.

XXVIII

December 25th.⁠—Last Christmas I was a bride, with a heart overflowing with present bliss, and full of