The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Anne Brontë [cheapest way to read ebooks txt] 📗

and then she withdrew her head, while Arthur screamed to the footman to let him out; but before that functionary could descend from his box a hand was silently put forth from the carriage window. I knew that hand, though a black glove concealed its delicate whiteness and half its fair proportions, and quickly seizing it, I pressed it in my own⁠—ardently for a moment, but instantly recollecting myself, I dropped it, and it was immediately withdrawn.

“Were you coming to see us, or only passing by?” asked the low voice of its owner, who, I felt, was attentively surveying my countenance from behind the thick black veil which, with the shadowing panels, entirely concealed her own from me.

“I⁠—I came to see the place,” faltered I.

“The place,” repeated she, in a tone which betokened more displeasure or disappointment than surprise.

“Will you not enter it, then?”

“If you wish it.”

“Can you doubt?”

“Yes, yes! he must enter,” cried Arthur, running round from the other door; and seizing my hand in both his, he shook it heartily.

“Do you remember me, sir?” said he.

“Yes, full well, my little man, altered though you are,” replied I, surveying the comparatively tall, slim young gentleman, with his mother’s image visibly stamped upon his fair, intelligent features, in spite of the blue eyes beaming with gladness, and the bright locks clustering beneath his cap.

“Am I not grown?” said he, stretching himself up to his full height.

“Grown! three inches, upon my word!”

“I was seven last birthday,” was the proud rejoinder. “In seven years more I shall be as tall as you nearly.”

“Arthur,” said his mother, “tell him to come in. Go on, Richard.”

There was a touch of sadness as well as coldness in her voice, but I knew not to what to ascribe it. The carriage drove on and entered the gates before us. My little companion led me up the park, discoursing merrily all the way. Arrived at the hall-door, I paused on the steps and looked round me, waiting to recover my composure, if possible⁠—or, at any rate, to remember my new-formed resolutions and the principles on which they were founded; and it was not till Arthur had been for some time gently pulling my coat, and repeating his invitations to enter, that I at length consented to accompany him into the apartment where the ladies awaited us.

Helen eyed me as I entered with a kind of gentle, serious scrutiny, and politely asked after Mrs. Markham and Rose. I respectfully answered her inquiries. Mrs. Maxwell begged me to be seated, observing it was rather cold, but she supposed I had not travelled far that morning.

“Not quite twenty miles,” I answered.

“Not on foot!”

“No, Madam, by coach.”

“Here’s Rachel, sir,” said Arthur, the only truly happy one amongst us, directing my attention to that worthy individual, who had just entered to take her mistress’s things. She vouchsafed me an almost friendly smile of recognition⁠—a favour that demanded, at least, a civil salutation on my part, which was accordingly given and respectfully returned⁠—she had seen the error of her former estimation of my character.

When Helen was divested of her lugubrious bonnet and veil, her heavy winter cloak, etc., she looked so like herself that I knew not how to bear it. I was particularly glad to see her beautiful black hair, unstinted still, and unconcealed in its glossy luxuriance.

“Mamma has left off her widow’s cap in honour of uncle’s marriage,” observed Arthur, reading my looks with a child’s mingled simplicity and quickness of observation. Mamma looked grave and Mrs. Maxwell shook her head. “And aunt Maxwell is never going to leave off hers,” persisted the naughty boy; but when he saw that his pertness was seriously displeasing and painful to his aunt, he went and silently put his arm round her neck, kissed her cheek, and withdrew to the recess of one of the great bay-windows, where he quietly amused himself with his dog, while Mrs. Maxwell gravely discussed with me the interesting topics of the weather, the season, and the roads. I considered her presence very useful as a check upon my natural impulses⁠—an antidote to those emotions of tumultuous excitement which would otherwise have carried me away against my reason and my will; but just then I felt the restraint almost intolerable, and I had the greatest difficulty in forcing myself to attend to her remarks and answer them with ordinary politeness; for I was sensible that Helen was standing within a few feet of me beside the fire. I dared not look at her, but I felt her eye was upon me, and from one hasty, furtive glance, I thought her cheek was slightly flushed, and that her fingers, as she played with her watch-chain, were agitated with that restless, trembling motion which betokens high excitement.

“Tell me,” said she, availing herself of the first pause in the attempted conversation between her aunt and me, and speaking fast and low, with her eyes bent on the gold chain⁠—for I now ventured another glance⁠—“Tell me how you all are at Linden-hope⁠—has nothing happened since I left you?”

“I believe not.”

“Nobody dead? nobody married?”

“No.”

“Or⁠—or expecting to marry?⁠—No old ties dissolved or new ones formed? no old friends forgotten or supplanted?”

She dropped her voice so low in the last sentence that no one could have caught the concluding words but myself, and at the same time turned her eyes upon me with a dawning smile, most sweetly melancholy, and a look of timid though keen inquiry that made my cheeks tingle with inexpressible emotions.

“I believe not,” I answered. “Certainly not, if others are as little changed as I.” Her face glowed in sympathy with mine.

“And you really did not mean to call?” she exclaimed.

“I feared to intrude.”

“To intrude!” cried she, with an impatient gesture. “What⁠—” but as if suddenly recollecting her aunt’s presence, she checked herself, and, turning to that lady, continued⁠—“Why, aunt, this man is my brother’s close friend, and was my own intimate acquaintance (for a few short months at least), and professed a great attachment to