29 Tenant Of Wildfell Hall- By Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

A romantic bedtime podcast guaranteed to help you drift off into a calm,

Relaxing sleep.

Come with me as we travel back to a time long ago,

Where Helen Huntington is sacrificing everything she knows in order to protect her son.

But before we begin,

Let us take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose,

Then let it out on a long sigh.

It is time to relax and really let go.

Feel your shoulders melt away from your ears as you sink into the support beneath you.

Feel the pressure seep away from your cheeks as your breath drops into a natural rhythm.

There is nothing you need to be doing right now and nowhere you need to go.

We are together and it is time for sleep.

The Tenant of Wildfelm Hall by Stephenie Poppins Chapter 29 The Neighbour December 25,

1823 Another year is gone.

My little Arthur lives and thrives.

He is healthy but not robust,

Full of gentle playfulness and vivacity,

Always affectionate and susceptible of passions and emotions.

It will be long ere he can find words to express.

He has won his father's heart at last and now my constant terror is,

Lest he should be ruined by that father's thoughtless indulgence.

But I must be aware of my own weakness too,

For I never knew till now just how strong a parent's temptations to spoil an only child are.

I have need of consolation in my son,

For,

To this silent paper I may confess it,

I have but dittle in my husband.

I love him still and he loves me in his own way,

But oh how different from the love I could have given and once had hoped to receive.

How little will sympathy there exist between us,

How many of my thoughts and feelings are gloomily cloistered within my own mind,

How much of my higher and better self is indeed unmarried,

Doomed either to harden and sour in the sunless shade of solitude,

Or to quite degenerate and fall away for lack of nutriment in this unwholesome soil.

But I repeat I have no right to complain,

Only let me state the truth and see hereafter if any darker truths will block these pages.

We have now been full two years united,

The romance of our attachment must be worn away.

Surely I have now got down to the lowest gradation in Arthur's affection and discovered all the evils of his nature.

If there be any further change it must be for the better as we both become still more accustomed to each other.

Surely we shall find no lower depth than this,

And if so I can bear it well,

As well at least as I have borne it hitherto.

Arthur is not what is commonly called a bad man,

He has many good qualities,

But he is a man without self-restraint or lofty aspirations,

A lover of pleasure given up to animal enjoyments.

He is not a bad husband,

But his notions of matrimonial duties and comforts are not my notions.

Judging from appearances his idea of a wife is a thing to love one devotedly and to stay at home,

To wait upon her husband and amuse him and minister to his comfort in every possible way while he chooses to stay with her,

And when he is absent,

To attend to his interests,

Domestic or otherwise,

And patiently wait his return no matter how he may be occupied in the meantime.

Early in spring he announced his intention of going to London.

His affairs there demanded his attendance,

He said,

And he could refuse it no longer.

He expressed his regret at having to leave,

But hoped I would amuse myself with a baby until he returned.

But why leave me?

I asked.

I can go with you,

I can be ready at any time.

You would not take that child to town?

Yes,

Why not?

The thing was absurd.

The heir of the town would be certain to disagree with him,

And me as a nurse.

The late hours and London habits would not suit me under such circumstances,

And altogether Arthur assured me it would be excessively troublesome,

Injurious and unsafe.

I overruled his objections as well as I could,

For I trembled at the thought of his going alone,

And would sacrifice almost anything for myself,

Much even for my child to prevent it.

But at length he told me plainly and somewhat testily that he could not do with me.

He was worn out with the baby's restless nights,

And he must have some repose.

I proposed separate apartments,

But it would not do.

The truth is,

Arthur,

I said at last,

You are weary of my company and determined not to have me with you.

You might as well have said so at once.

He denied it,

But I immediately left the room and flew to the nursery to hide my feelings if I could not soothe them there.

I was too much hurt to express any further dissatisfaction with his plans,

Or at all to refer to the subject again,

Except for the necessary arrangements concerning his departure and the conduct of affairs during his absence,

Until the day before he went,

When I earnestly exalted him to take care of himself and keep out of the way of temptation.

He laughed at my anxiety,

But assured me there was no cause for it,

And promised to attend to my advice.

I suppose it's no use asking you to fix a day for your return,

Said I.

I know I hardly can under the circumstances,

But be assured,

Love,

I shall not be away long.

I don't wish to keep your prisoner at home,

I replied.

I should not grumble at your staying whole months away if you can be happy so long without me,

Provided I knew you were safe,

But I don't like the idea of you being there among your friends,

As you call them.

You silly girl,

Do you think I can't take care of myself?

You didn't last time,

But this time,

Arthur,

I added earnestly,

Show you you can and teach me I need not fear to trust you.

Arthur promised fair,

But in such a manner as we seek to soothe a child,

And did he keep his promise?

No,

And henceforth I can never trust his word.

Bitter,

Bitter confession.

Tears blind me while I write.

It was early in March he went,

And he did not return until July.

This time he did not trouble himself to make excuses as before,

And his letters were less frequent,

And shorter,

And much less affectionate,

Especially after the first few weeks.

They came slower and slower,

And more terse and careless every time.

But still when I omitted writing,

He complained of my neglect.

When I wrote sternly and coldly,

As I confess I frequently did at the last,

He blamed my harshness,

And said it was enough to scare him from his home.

When I tried mild persuasion,

He was a little more gentle in his replies,

And promised to return,

But I had learnt at last to disregard his promises.

Those were four miserable months,

Alternating between intense anxiety,

Despair,

And indignation.

Pity for him,

And pity for myself.

And yet through all,

I was not wholly comfortless.

I had my darling,

Sinless,

Inoffensive little one to console me.

But even this consolation was embittered by the constantly recurring thought,

How shall I teach him hereafter to respect his father,

And yet to avoid his example?

But I remembered I had brought all these afflictions,

In a manner willfully,

Upon myself,

And I determined to bear them without a murmur.

At the same time,

I resolved not to give myself up to misery for the transgression of another,

And endeavoured to divert myself as much as I could.

I had my books and pencil,

My domestic affairs and the welfare and comfort of Arthur's poor tenants and labourers to attend to,

And I sometimes sought and obtained amusement in the company of my young friend Esther Hargrave.

Occasionally I rode over to see her,

And once or twice,

I had her to spend the day with me.

Mrs Hargrave did not visit London that season,

Having no daughter to marry,

She thought it as well to stay at home and economise.

And for a wonder,

Walter came down to join her in the beginning of June,

And stayed till near the close of August.

The first time I saw him was on a sweet warm evening,

When I was sauntering in the park with little Arthur and Rachel,

Who is head nurse and lady's maiden one.

I require but little attendance,

And she had nursed me and coveted to nurse my child,

And was so very trustworthy.

I preferred committing the important charge to her,

With a young nursery maid under her directions,

To engaging anyone else.

Besides,

It saves money,

And since I have made acquaintance with Arthur's affairs,

I have learned to regard that as no trifling recommendation,

For,

By my own desire,

Nearly the whole of the income of my fortune is devoted for years to come to the paying off of his debts,

And the money he contrives to squander away in London is incomprehensible.

But to return to Mr Hargrave,

I was standing with Rachel beside the water,

Amusing the laughing baby in her arms with a twig of willow,

Laden with golden catkins,

When greatly to my surprise he entered the park,

Mounted on his costly black hunter,

And crossed over the grass to meet me.

He saluted me with a very fine compliment,

Delicately worded,

And modestly delivered with awe,

Which he had doubtless concocted as he rode along.

He told me he had brought a message from his mother,

Who,

As he was riding that way,

Had desired to call at the manor and beg the pleasure of my company to a friendly family dinner to-morrow.

There is but no one to meet but ourselves,

Said he,

And Esther is very anxious to see you,

And my mother fears you will feel solitary in this great house so much alone,

And wishes she could persuade you to give her the pleasure of your company more frequently,

Till Mr Huntington's return shall render this a little more conducive to your comfort.

"'She's very kind,

' I answered,

"'but I'm not alone,

You see,

And those whose time is fully occupied seldom complain of solitude.

Will you not come to-morrow then?

She will be sadly disappointed if you refuse.

' I did not relish being thus compassionated for my loneliness,

But,

However,

I promised to come.

"'What a sweet evening this is,

' observed he,

Looking round upon the sunny park,

"'and what a paradise you live in!

' "'It is a lovely evening,

' I answered,

And I sighed to think how little I'd felt its loveliness,

And how little of a paradise Sweetgrassdale was,

How still less to the voluntary exile from its scenes.

Whether Mr Hargrave divined my thoughts I cannot tell,

But with a half-hesitating,

Sympathising seriousness of tone and manner,

He asked if I had heard lately from Mr Huntington.

"'Not lately,

' I replied.

"'I thought not,

' he muttered as if to himself,

Looking thoughtfully on the ground.

"'Are you not lately returned from London?

' I asked.

"'Only yesterday.

' "'And did you see him there?

' "'Yes,

I saw him.

' "'Was he well?

' "'Yes,

That is,

' said he,

With increasing hesitation,

And an appearance of suppressed indignation.

"'He was as well as he deserved to be,

That under circumstances I should have deemed incredible for a man so favoured as he is.

' "'He here looked up and pointed the sentence with a serious bow to me.

"'I suppose my face was crimson.

' "'Pardon me,

Mrs Huntington,

' he continued,

"'but I cannot suppress my indignation when I behold such infatuated blindness and perversion of taste.

"'But perhaps you are not aware.

' He paused.

"'I am aware of nothing,

Sir,

Except he delays his coming longer than I expected,

And if at present he prefers the society of his friends to that of a wife,

And the dissipations of the town to the quiet of the country life,

I suppose I have those friends to thank for it.

Their tastes and occupations are similar to his,

And I don't see why his conduct should awaken either their indignation or surprise.

"'You wrong me cruelly,

' answered he.

"'I have shared but little of Mr Huntington's society for the last few weeks,

And as for his tastes and occupations,

They are quite beyond me,

Lonely wanderer as I am.

"'Where I have but sipped and tasted,

He drains the cup to the dregs,

And if ever for a moment I sought to drown the voice of reflection in madness and folly,

Or if I had wasted too much of my time and talents among reckless and dissipated companions,

God knows I would gladly renounce them entirely and forever if I had but half the blessings that man so thanklessly casts behind his back,

But half the inducements to virtue and domestic orderly habits that he despises,

But such a home,

And such a part to share it,

It is infamous.

' He muttered this between his teeth.

"'And don't think,

Mrs Huntington,

' he added aloud,

"'that I could be guilty of inciting him to persevere in this present pursuit.

On the contrary,

I have remonstrated with him again and again.

I frequently expressed my surprise at his conduct and reminded him of his duties and his privileges.

' "'Enough,

Mr Hargrave,

' said I.

"'You ought to be aware that whatever my husband's thoughts may be,

It can only aggravate the evil for me to hear them from a stranger's lips.

' "'Am I then a stranger?

' said Mr Huntington in a sorrowful tone.

"'I am your nearest neighbour,

Your son's godfather,

And your husband's friend.

May I not be yours also?

' "'Intimate acquaintances must precede real friendship,

' said I.

"'Have you forgotten then the six or seven weeks I spent under your roof last autumn?

' "'I have not forgotten them,

' said he.

' "'Rachel,

During this time,

Had moved on,

To some yards' distance.

He then rode up to her and asked to see the child.

He took it carefully into his arms,

Looked upon it with a most paternal smile,

And I heard him say,

"'As I approached.

' "'And this,

Too,

He has forsaken.

' "'He then tenderly kissed little Arthur and restored him to the ground.

He was a gratified nurse.

' "'Are you fond of children,

Mr Hargrave?

' asked I,

A little softened towards him.

"'Not in general,

' he replied.

"'But that is such a sweet child,

And so like its mother.

' Then he departed,

And Rachel pronounced him a very nice gentleman,

Although I still had my doubts on the subject.

"