His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind. Our intimacy was rather a mutual predilection than a deep and solid friendship. Mr. Lawrence was like a new garment, all very neat and trim to look at, but very tight in the elbows.
Soon after the arrival of the guests, my mother mentioned Mrs. Graham. My mother regretted she was not there, and explained to the Millwards and Wilsons the reasons.
She is a very strange lady, Mr. Lawrence, added she; we don't know what to think of her. But you can tell us something about her, for she is your tenant, you know. And she said she knew you a little.
All eyes were turned to Mr. Lawrence.
I, Mrs. Markham! said he; you are mistaken. I don't that is I have seen her, certainly; but I can't tell anything about Mrs. Graham.
He then immediately turned to Rose, and asked her to favour the company with a song, or a tune on the piano.
No, said she, you must ask Miss Wilson: she plays and sings much better.
Miss Wilson demurred.
She'll sing readily enough, said Fergus, if you stand by her, Mr. Lawrence, and turn over the leaves[9] for her.
I shall be most happy to do so, Miss Wilson; will you allow me?
She bridled her long neck and smiled. After that she played and sang, one piece after another; while he stood patiently by, and turned over the leaves of her book.
I don't take wine, Mrs. Markham, said Mr. Millward; I'll take a little of your home-brewed ale[10]. I always prefer your home-brewed to anything else. There's nothing like this, Mrs. Markham! said he. I always maintain that there's nothing to compare with your home-brewed ale. These things are all blessings and mercies, if we only knew how to make use of them.
But Mrs. Graham doesn't think so. You'll just hear now what she told us the other day, said my mother
And my mother favoured the company with a particular account of that lady's ideas,
Now, don't you think it is wrong?
Wrong! repeated the vicar, with more than common solemnity, criminal, I say, criminal! She is making a fool of the boy, despising the gifts of Providence, and teaching him to trample them under his feet.
Mr. Lawrence sat with his elbow on the table, and covertly smiled to himself.
But don't you think, Mr. Millward, suggested he, that when a child may be naturally prone to intemperance by the fault of its parents or ancestors, for instance some precautions are advisable? (Mr. Lawrence's father shortened his days by intemperance).
Some precautions, it may be; but temperance, sir, is one thing, and abstinence another.
With some persons, temperance that is, moderation is almost impossible. A parent's authority cannot last for ever. Children are naturally prone to hanker after forbidden things. It seems to me, that this plan of Mrs. Graham's, as you describe it, Mrs. Markham, is not without its advantages.
He pushed his chair a little away from the table, and leant back towards me and carelessly asked me if I knew Mrs. Graham.
I have met her once or twice, I replied.
What do you think of her?
I cannot say that I like her much. She is handsome, but not amiable. She too hard, too sharp, too bitter for my taste.
He made no reply, but looked down and bit his lip.
After that we were dancing. Then I followed Eliza to help her with her shawl. And I snatched a kiss behind her father's back. But alas! I turned round, and there was my mother close beside me. When the guests departed, she said to me,
My dear Gilbert, you know how I love you and prize you above everything else in the world. But how bitterly it will grieve me to see you married to that girl or any other in the neighbourhood. What you see in her I don't know. There's neither beauty, nor cleverness, nor goodness, nor anything else in her. Wait awhile and see! If you bind yourself to her, you'll repent it all your lifetime.
Well, mother, do be quiet! I'm not going to marry yet, I tell you. But I want to enjoy myself.
Yes, my dear boy, but not in that way. Indeed, don't do such things. You'll get entangled in her snares before you know where you are. And if you marry her, Gilbert, you'll break my heart.
Well, don't cry about it, mother, said I; don't abuse Eliza anymore. I'll promise to think twice before I take any important step.
I lighted my candle, and went to bed.
Chapter V
Soon I accompanied Rose her in a visit to Wildfell Hall. To our surprise, in a room we saw a painter's easel, with a table beside it covered with rolls of canvas, bottles of oil and varnish, palette, brushes, and paints.
I must make you welcome to my studio, said Mrs. Graham; there is no fire in the sitting-room today, and it is very cold.
She resumed her place beside the easel. It was a view of Wildfell Hall at early morning.
I see your heart is in your work, Mrs. Graham, observed I. Our presence will interrupt, we shall regard ourselves as unwelcome intruders.
Oh, no! replied she and threw her brush on to the table. I can readily spare a few minutes to the few that favour me with their company.
You have almost completed your painting, said I, with a greater degree of admiration and delight than I expressed. But why have you called it Fernley Manor, Cumberland, instead of Wildfell Hall?
Because I have friends acquaintances at least from whom I desire to conceal my present abode.
Then you don't intend to keep the picture? said I.
No; I cannot afford to paint for my own amusement.
Mamma sends all her pictures to London, said Arthur; and somebody sells them for her there, and sends us the money.
I remarked a pretty sketch of Lindenhope from the top of the hill; another view of the old hall in the sunny haze of a quiet summer afternoon; and a simple little picture of a child, with glimpses of dark low hills and autumnal fields behind it.
I really have nothing else to paint, observed the fair artist. They say that you have a fine view of the sea somewhere in the neighbourhood. Is it true? And is it far?
Yes, if you are ready to walk four miles or nearly so eight miles, there and back.
In what direction does it lie?
I described the situation.
Oh, stop! Don't tell me now: I shall forget every word of your directions before I require them. I shall not go there till next spring; and then, perhaps, I may trouble you. At present we have the winter before us, and
She suddenly paused, with a suppressed exclamation, started up from her seat, and said,
Excuse me one moment!
She hurried from the room, and shut the door behind her.
I looked from the window and beheld the man's coat behind a large bush that stood between the window and the porch.
It's mamma's friend, said Arthur.
Rose and I looked at each other. Rose began to talk to him, while I looked at the pictures. I discovered another picture. It was the portrait of a gentleman handsome enough. It was evidently some years before. I surveyed it with considerable interest. Soon the fair artist returned.
Someone was asking about the pictures, said she, in apology for her departure: I told him to wait.
I fear it will be considered an act of impertinence, I said, to look at a picture that the artist has turned to the wall; but may I ask
It is an act of very great impertinence, sir; and therefore I beg you will ask nothing about it, replied she.
She was seriously annoyed. Then she took the picture from me; and quickly restored it to the dark corner, with its face to the wall, and then turned to me and laughed.
I carelessly turned to the window. Then I told my sister it was time to go, shook hands with the little gentleman, coolly bowed to the lady, and moved towards the door. Mrs. Graham smiled, Mr. Markham, I'm sorry I offended you by my abruptness.
When a lady apologizes, I can't be angry, of course. We parted good friends for once. This time I squeezed her hand with a cordial pressure.
Chapter VI
During the next four months I did not enter Mrs. Graham's house; but still the ladies continued to talk about her. And still our acquaintance continued, though slowly, to advance. Sometimes I saw her myself, not only when she came to church, but when she was out on the hills with her son. I liked to see Mrs. Graham, and to talk to her. I decidedly liked to talk to her little companion, who was a very amiable and intelligent little fellow. We soon became excellent friends. What pleased her best of all was to see him with Sancho, while I walked by her side not for love of my company (though I sometimes deluded myself with that idea). Those active sports were invigorating to her son, that's all.
One bright February morning, during twenty minutes' stroll along the moor, she was discoursing with so much eloquence and depth of thought, that I went home enchanted. And I thought it was, perhaps, better to spend one's days with such a woman than with Eliza Millward. Then I (figuratively) blushed for my inconstancy.
However, thought I, I cannot marry Eliza, since my mother so strongly objects to it. So I must not delude the girl with the idea that I intended to do so. Mrs. Graham can be equally objectionable. But I shall not fall seriously in love with the young widow, I think, nor she with me that's certain.
One calm, clear afternoon, in March, I saw Mrs. Graham down by the brook, with a sketch-book in her hand. She was absorbed in her favourite art, while Arthur was constructing dams and breakwaters in the shallow, stony stream.
Do you not find it a desolate place to live in? said I, after a moment of silent contemplation.
I do, sometimes, replied she. On winter evenings, when Arthur is in bed, and I am sitting there alone. But it is folly to give way to such weakness, I know. Rachel is satisfied with such a life. Indeed, I must be thankful for such an asylum.
Then bid me good-evening and withdrew.
Soon perceived Mr. Lawrence, on his pretty grey pony. I went a little out of my way to speak to him.
Was that Mrs. Graham you were speaking to just now? said he.
Yes.
Humph! I thought so.
Well! What then?
Oh, nothing! replied he. Only I thought you disliked her.
Suppose I did. Can't a man change his mind?
Yes, of course, returned he. Then you have changed your mind?
I can't say that I have exactly. No; I think I hold the same opinion but slightly ameliorated.
Oh! He glanced up at the moon.
Lawrence, said I calmly, are you in love with Mrs. Graham?
He laughed.
I am in love with her! repeated he. Why do you think so?
From the interest you take in the progress of my acquaintance with the lady, and the changes of my opinion concerning her, I thought you were jealous.
He laughed again.
Jealous! no. But I thought you were going to marry Eliza Millward.
You thought wrong, then; I am not going to marry either one or the other.
Chapter VII
Not many days after this, on a mild sunny morning, I was out on the hill-side. I beheld three persons below. They were Eliza Millward, Fergus, and Rose; so I crossed the field to meet them. They told me that they were going to Wildfell Hall. I joined them, and offered my arm to Eliza, who readily accepted it.
So we went all. The meagre old maid-servant, that opened the door, ushered us into a tolerably spacious and lofty room.
The lady was seated in a stiff, high-backed arm-chair, with a small round table, containing a desk and a work-basket on one side of her, and her little boy on the other. The boy was leaning his elbow on her knee, and reading to her, with wonderful fluency, from a small volume that lay in her lap.
I do not think Mrs. Graham was particularly delighted to see us. There was something indescribably chilly in her quiet, calm civility; but I did not talk much to her. I called Arthur to me, and he and I and Sancho amused ourselves very pleasantly together. Fergus was interrupting the conversation, or filling up a pause with some impertinent question or remark. At one time it was,
It, amazes me, Mrs. Graham, how you can choose such a dilapidated, rickety old place as this to live in. If you can't afford to occupy the whole house, why can't you take a neat little cottage?
Perhaps this romantic, old-fashioned place, Mr. Fergus, replied she, has many advantages over a cottage. You see, the rooms are larger and more airy. The unoccupied apartments, which I don't pay for, may serve as lumber-rooms. They are very useful for my little boy to run about in on rainy days when he can't go out. Then there is the garden for him to play in, and for me to work in.
But then how can you bear such a situation your nearest neighbours two miles distant, and nobody passes by? Rose will go mad in such a place.
The loneliness of the place was one of its chief recommendations. I like to be quiet.
Oh! Do you want to tell us to leave you alone?
No, I dislike an extensive acquaintance; but if I have a few friends, of course I am glad to see them occasionally. No one can be happy in eternal solitude. Therefore, Mr. Fergus, if you choose to enter my house as a friend, I will make you welcome. If not, I will keep you away.
And, Mrs. Graham, said he again, five minutes after, we were disputing something. Well, the question, or questions for you to answer
Hold your tongue, Fergus! cried Rose.
I won't! The questions are these: first, concerning your birth, extraction, and previous residence. Some people say that you are a foreigner, and some an Englishwoman; some a native of the north country, and some of the south; some say
Well, Mr. Fergus, I'll tell you. I'm an Englishwoman. I was born in the country, neither in the extreme north nor south of our happy isle. In the country I have passed my life, and now I hope you are satisfied.
Except this
No, not one more! laughed she, and, to escape my brother's persecutions, drew me into conversation.
Mr. Markham, said she, have you forgotten the fine sea-view we were speaking of some time ago? I think I must trouble you, now, to tell me the nearest way to it. I shall, perhaps, be able to walk there, and take my sketch. I want to see it.
Oh, don't tell her, Gilbert! cried Rose; she will go with us. I suppose, Mrs. Graham, it is a very long walk, too far for you. But we were thinking about a picnic there. I'm sure we shall all be delighted to have you amongst us.
Poor Mrs. Graham looked dismayed, and attempted to make excuses.
Just a nice walk for the gentlemen, continued Rose; but the ladies will have their pony-carriage, which will be large enough to contain little Arthur and three ladies, together with your sketching apparatus, and our provisions.
We rose, and took our leave.
But this was only March: a cold, wet April, and two weeks of May passed over before we ventured forth on our expedition. The company consisted of Mrs. and Master Graham, Mary and Eliza Millward, Jane and Richard Wilson, and Rose, Fergus, and Gilbert Markham.
Mr. Lawrence was invited to join us, but, for some reason he refused to give us his company.. The decision was not displeasing to me.
It was about midday when we reached the place of our destination. Mrs. Graham walked all the way to the cliffs. I have a very pleasant recollection of that walk, along the hard, white, sunny road. Eliza was not beside me; but she was with her friends in the pony-carriage. I was too happy in the company of Mrs. Graham to regret the absence of Eliza Millward.
At length our walk was ended. I looked at my companion to see what she thought of the glorious scene. She said nothing: but she stood still. She had very fine eyes not brown, but very dark grey. A cool breeze blew from the sea soft, pure, salubrious. She looked very lovely; my heart warmly cleaved to her.
Mrs. Graham seated herself at a distance from me. Eliza was my nearest neighbour. Soon my heart began to warm towards her once again; and we were all very merry and happy together.