46 Tenant Of Wildfell Hall - Read 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 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 by Read and abridged by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 46 Ah,

Said Mr Lawrence faintly smiling,

Then let us forget all unpleasant words on both sides as well as deeds and consign to oblivion everything we have caused to regret.

Have you any objection to take my hand or you'd rather not?

His hand trembled through weakness as he held it out and it dropped before I had time to catch it and give it a hearty shake.

How dry and burning your hand is Lawrence,

Said I.

You're really ill and you've made yourself worse by all this talk.

Oh,

It's nothing,

Only a cold got by the rain.

My doing too.

Never mind that,

He said,

But tell me,

Did you mention this affair to my sister?

To confess the truth I had not the courage to do so,

I said,

But when you will see her,

Tell her I deeply regret it.

Oh,

Never fear,

I shall say nothing against you,

He said,

As long as you keep your good resolution of remaining aloof.

She has not heard of my illness then that you're aware of?

I think not.

I'm glad of that,

For I've been all this time tormenting myself with a fear somebody would tell her I was dying or desperately ill and she would be either distressing herself or committing the madness of coming to see me.

I must contrive to let her know something about it if I can.

She will be hearing some such story anyway.

Many would be glad to tell her the news just to see how she'd take it and then she might expose herself to fresh scandal.

I wish I had told her,

Said I,

If it were not for my promise I would tell her now.

By no means.

I'm not dreaming of that,

But if I were to write a short note,

Not mentioning you,

Markham,

But just giving a slight account of my illness,

By way of excuse for my not coming to see her,

And to put her on her guard against any exaggerated report she may hear,

Then address it in a disguised hand,

Would you do me the favour to slip it into the post office as you pass?

I dare not trust any of the servants in such a case.

Most willingly I consented and immediately brought Mr Lawrence his desk.

There was little need to disguise his hand for the poor fellow seemed to have considerable difficulty in writing at all.

When the note was done I thought it time to retire and I took leave after asking if there was anything in the world I could do for him.

No,

Said he,

You have already done much towards it,

You've done more for me than the most skilful physician could do,

For you've relieved my mind of two great burdens,

Anxiety on my sister's account and deep regret upon your own.

I do believe these two sources of torment have had more effect in working me up into a fever than anything else.

I am persuaded I shall soon recover now.

There is one more thing you can do for me,

And that is come and see me now and then,

For you see I am very lonely here.

I promise your entrance shall not be disputed again.

I engaged to do so and departed with a cordial pressure of the hand.

I posted the letter on my way home,

Most manfully resisting the temptation of dropping in a word from myself at the same time.

I felt strangely tempted at times to enlighten my mother and sister on the real character and circumstances of the persecuted tenant of Wildfell Hall.

At first I greatly regretted having omitted to ask that lady's permission to do so,

But on due reflection I considered if it were known to them it could not long remain a secret to the Millwoods and the Wilsons,

And such was my present appreciation of Eliza Millwood's disposition if once she got a clue to the story,

I should fear she would soon find means to enlighten Mr.

Huntingdon upon the place of his wife's retreat.

I would therefore wait patiently till these weary six months were over,

And then when the fugitive had found another home and I was permitted to write to her,

I would beg to be allowed to clear her name from these vile calumnies.

At present I must content myself with simply asserting I knew them to be false,

And I would prove it someday to the shame of those who slandered her.

I don't think anybody believed me,

But everybody soon learned to avoid insinuating a word against her,

Or even mentioning her name in my presence.

They thought I was so madly infatuated by the seductions of that unhappy lady I was determined to support her in the very face of reason,

And meantime I grew insupportably morose and misanthropical from the idea that everyone I met was harbouring unworthy thoughts of the supposed Mrs.

Graham,

And would express them if he dared.

My poor mother was quite distressed about me.

I couldn't help it,

Though.

At least I thought I could not.

Though sometimes I felt a pang of remorse for my undutiful conduct,

And I made an effort to amend,

Attended with some partial success,

And indeed I was generally more humanised in my demeanour to my mother than to anybody else.

Mr.

Lawrence accepted.

Rose and Fergus usually shunned my presence,

And it was as well they did,

For I was not fit company for them,

Nor they for me under the present circumstances.

Mrs.

Huntington did not leave Wildfell Hall till above two months after our farewell interview.

During that time she never appeared at church,

And I never went near the house.

I only knew she was still there by her brother's brief answers to my many and varied inquiries.

I was a very constant and attentive visitor to him throughout the whole period of his illness and convalescence,

Not only from the interest I took in his recovery,

And my desire to cheer him up and make the utmost possible amends for my former brutality,

But from my growing attachment to himself,

And the increasing pleasure I found in his society.

I loved him for it better than I liked to express.

I took a secret delight in pressing those slender white fingers so marvellously like Helen's,

Considering he was not a woman,

And in watching the passing changes in his fair,

Pale features,

And observing the intonations of his voice,

Detecting resemblances which I wondered had never struck me before.

He provoked me at times,

Indeed by his evident reluctance to talk to me about his sister,

Though I did not question the friendliness of his motives in wishing to discourage any remembrance of her.

His recovery was not quite so rapid as he expected it to be.

He was not able to mount his pony till a fortnight after the date of our reconciliation,

And the first use he made of his returning strength was to ride over by night to Wildfell Hall to see his sister.

It was a hazardous enterprise,

But he thought it necessary to consult with her on the subject of her projected departure.

You'll never be able to see your sister if you don't take care of yourself,

Said I,

A little provoked by the circumstances on her account.

I've seen her already,

Said he quietly.

You've seen her?

Cried I in astonishment.

Yes?

And then he told me what considerations had impelled him to make the venture,

And with what precautions he had made it.

How was she?

I eagerly asked.

As usual,

Was the brief though sad reply.

As usual,

That is,

Far from happy and far from strong.

She is not positively ill,

Returned he.

She will recover her spirits in a while,

I've no doubt,

But so many trials have been almost too much.

How threatening those clouds look!

He turned towards the window.

We shall have thundershowers before night,

I imagine.

They're just in the midst of stacking my corn.

Have you got yours all in yet?

No,

Said I.

And did she,

Did your sister mention me?

She asked if I'd seen you lately.

And what else did she say?

I cannot tell you all,

Replied he with a slight smile.

We talked a good deal,

Though my stay was but short.

Our conversation was chiefly on the subject of her intended departure,

Which I begged her to delay till I was better to assist her in the search after another home.

But did she say no more about me?

She did not say much about you,

Markham.

I should not have encouraged her to do so,

Had she been inclined,

But happily she was not.

She only asked a few questions concerning you and seemed satisfied with my brief answers,

Wherein she showed herself wiser than her friend.

And I may tell you too,

She seemed to be far more anxious,

Lest you should think too much of her,

Than lest you should forget her.

She was right.

But I fear your anxiety is quite the other way.

No,

It is not,

I protested.

I wish her to be happy,

But I don't wish her to forget me.

She knows it's impossible I should forget her,

And she is right to wish me not to remember her too well.

I should not desire her to regret me too deeply,

But I can scarcely imagine she will make herself very unhappy about me,

Because I know I'm not worthy of it,

Except in my appreciation of her.

© BF-WATCH TV 2021