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 Huntingdon 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 Read and abridged by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 44 continued Then what must we do cried I passionately.
Immediately then I added in a quieter tone.
I'll do whatever you desire,
Helen,
But don't say this meeting is to be our last.
And why not?
Don't you know every time we meet the thoughts of the final parting will become more painful?
Don't you feel that every interview makes us dearer to each other than the last?
The utterance of this last question was hurried and low and the downcast eyes and burning blush too plainly showed that she at least had felt it.
It was scarcely prudent to make such an admission or to add as she presently did.
I have power to bid you go now.
Another time it might be different.
But I was not base enough to attempt to take advantage of her candor.
But we may write,
I timidly suggested.
You will not deny me that consolation.
We can hear each other through my brother.
Your brother?
A pang of remorse and shame shot through me.
Helen had not heard of the injury he had sustained at my hands and I had not the courage to tell her.
Your brother will not help us,
I said.
He would have had all communication between us entirely at an end.
And he would be right,
I suppose.
And he would be right,
I suppose,
Said Helen.
As a friend of both,
He would wish us both well and every friend would tell us it was our interest as well as our duty to forget each other,
Though we might not see it ourselves.
But don't be afraid,
Gilbert,
She added,
Smiling sadly at my manifest discomposure.
There is little chance of my forgetting you.
I did not mean that Frederick should be the means of transmitting messages between us,
Only that each might know through him of the other's welfare,
And more than this ought not to be.
For you are young,
Gilbert,
And you ought to marry,
And will sometime,
Though you may think it impossible now.
And though I can hardly say I wish you to forget me,
I know it's right that you should,
Both for your own happiness and that of your future wife,
And therefore I must and I will wish it.
And you are young too,
Helen,
I boldly replied,
And when that profligate scoundrel has run through his career,
You will give your hand to me,
And I'll wait till then.
But Helen would not leave me this support,
Independently of the moral evil of basing our hopes upon the death of another,
Who,
If unfit for this world,
Was at least no less so for the next.
She maintained it to be madness.
Many men of Mr.
Huntington's habits had lived to a ripe old,
Miserable age.
And if I,
Said she,
Am young in years,
I'm old in sorrow,
That even if trouble should fail to kill me before vice destroys him,
Think,
If he reached but fifty or so,
Would you wait twenty or fifteen,
In vague uncertainty and suspense,
Through all the prime of youth and manhood,
And marry at last a woman faded and worn as I shall be,
Without ever having seen me from this day to that?
You would not.
Or if you would,
You should not.
Trust me,
Gilbert,
In this matter I know better than you.
You think me cold and stony-hearted,
And you may,
But I don't,
Helen.
Well,
Never mind,
You might if you would,
But I've not spent my solitude in utter idleness,
And I'm not speaking now from the impulse of the moment,
As you do.
I've thought of all these matters again and again.
I've argued these questions with myself,
And pondered well our past,
And present,
And future,
And believe me,
I've come to the right conclusion at last.
Trust my words rather than your own feelings now,
And in a few years you will see that I was right,
Though at present I can hardly see it myself.
" She murmured with a sigh as she rested her head on her hand.
And don't argue against me any more.
All that you can say has already been said by my own heart,
And refuted by my reason.
It was hard enough to combat those suggestions as they were whispered within me,
And if you knew how much they pained me,
You would cease at once,
I know.
If you knew my present feelings,
You would even try to relieve them at the expense of your own.
I will go,
In a minute if that can relieve you,
And never return,
Said I with bitter emphasis.
But if we may never meet,
And never hope to meet again,
Is it a crime to exchange our thought by letter?
May not kindred spirits meet and mingle in communion,
Whatever be the fate and circumstances of their earthly tenements?
They may,
They may,
Cried she with a momentary burst of glad enthusiasm.
I thought of that too,
Gilbert,
But I fear to mention it.
I fear it even now.
I fear any kind friend would tell us we're both deluding ourselves with the idea of keeping a spiritual intercourse,
Without hope or prospect of anything further,
Without fostering vain regrets and hurtful aspirations,
And feeding thoughts that should be sternly and pitilessly left to perish.
Never mind our kind friends.
If they can part our bodies,
It's enough.
In God's name,
Let them not sunder our souls,
Cried I.
But no letters can pass between us here,
Said she,
Without giving fresh food for scandal.
When I departed,
I'd intended my new abode should be unknown to you as rest of the world.
Not that I should doubt your word if you promise not to visit me.
But I thought you would be more tranquil in your own mind if you knew you could not do it.
But listen.
She smiled and put her finger to check my impatient reply.
In six months,
You shall hear from Frederick precisely where I am.
And if you still wish to write to me and think you can maintain a correspondence,
Write and I will answer you.
Six months?
Yes,
To give your present ardor time to call and try the truth and constancy of your love's soul for mine.
And now enough has been said between us.
Why can't we part at once?
Exclaimed she almost wildly after a moment's pause.
Then she suddenly rose from her chair with her hands resolutely clasped together.
I thought it was my duty to go without delay,
And I approached and half extended my hand as if to take leave.
She grasped us in silence.
But this thought of final separation was too intolerable.
It seemed to squeeze the blood out of my heart and my feet were glued to the floor.
And must we never meet again?
I murmured in the anguish of my soul.
We shall meet in heaven,
She said.
Let us think of that.
And then in a tone of desperate calmness,
Her eyes glittered wildly and her face was deadly pale.
