Mrs. Graham thought there was no danger for herself or her child. It was daylight still, and the people were quiet and harmless.
Soon she left. Mr. Lawrence came to me, but I was blind to his extended hand, and deaf to his good-night till he repeated it a second time. Then, to get rid of him, I muttered an inarticulate reply.
What is the matter, Markham? whispered he. Are you angry because Mrs. Graham did not let you go home with her?
What business is it of yours? I demanded.
Why, none, replied he with quietness; only let me tell you, Markham, that if you have any designs in that quarter, they will certainly fail. You are cherishing false hopes, and wasting your strength in useless efforts, and it grieves me.
Hypocrite! I exclaimed.
He held his breath[12], turned white and went away without another word. I wounded him; and I was glad of it.
Chapter X
But the vile slander was born. Rose, however, vowed she did not believe it, and my mother made the same declaration.
Anyway, she said one day,
Well! I always thought there was something odd about her. This is a sad, sad business!
Why, mother, you said you didn't believe these tales, said Fergus.
No more I do, my dear; but then, you know, there must be some foundation.
The foundation is in the wickedness and falsehood of the people, said I, and in the fact that Mr. Lawrence went that way once or twice. The scandal-mongers have greedily seized the rumour.
Well, but, Gilbert, there must be something in her manner to countenance such reports.
Did you see anything in her manner?
No, certainly; but then, you know, I always said there was something strange about her.
That evening I went to Wildfell Hall. By this time, you see, I was in love with her. I took from the book-case an old volume to offer her, and hastened away.
Arthur was playing with his frolicsome little dog in the garden. I looked over the gate and called him to me.
Arthur, tell your mother I want to speak to her.
He ran to perform my bidding, and quickly returned with his mother. How lovely she looked with her dark ringlets!
Well, Mr. Markham, what is it? said the young mother.
I want you to look at this book, and, if you please, to take it, and peruse it at your leisure.
Tell him to come in, mamma, said Arthur.
And we sauntered through the garden, and talked of the flowers, the trees, and the book, and then of other things. The evening was kind and genial, and so was my companion. We passed a rose-tree. She plucked a beautiful half-open bud and bade me give it to Rose.
May I not keep it myself? I asked.
No; but here is another for you.
I took the hand that offered it, and looked into her face.
Mr. Markham, said she, with desperate calmness, I must tell you something. I like your company, because I am alone here, and your conversation pleases me more than that of any other person. But if you cannot regard me as a friend a plain, cold, motherly, or sisterly friend I must beg you to leave me now, and let me alone hereafter. In fact, we must be strangers for the future.
I will, then be your friend, or brother, or anything you wish. But tell me why I cannot be anything more?
There was a perplexed and thoughtful pause.
Is it in consequence of some rash vow?
It is something of the kind, she answered. Some day I may tell you, but at present please leave me, Gilbert.
How sweet, how musical my own name sounded in her mouth!
May I come to see you now and then[13]?
Perhaps occasionally.
And will you always call me Gilbert? It sounds more sisterly.
She smiled and re-entered the house and I went down the hill. But suddenly the tramp of horses' hoofs fell on my ear, and broke the stillness of the dewy evening. I saw a solitary equestrian. I knew him at a glance: it was Mr. Lawrence on his grey pony. He saw me and wanted to turn back, but then continued his course as before. He accosted me with a slight bow, and wanted to pass on; but I seized his horse by the bridle, and exclaimed,
Now, Lawrence, tell me where you are going, and what you mean to do!
Will you take your hand off the bridle? said he quietly, you're hurting my pony's mouth.
You and your pony be
What makes you so coarse and brutal, Markham? I'm quite ashamed of you.
You answer my questions before you leave this spot! I will know what you mean by this perfidious duplicity!
I shall answer no questions till you let go the bridle.
Now then, said I and unclosed my hand.
Ask me some other time, when you can speak like a gentleman, returned he. Mr. Markham, this is too much![14] Can I not go to see my tenant?
This is no time for business, sir! I'll tell you, now, what I think of your conduct.
Really? Here's the vicar.
And, in truth, the vicar was just behind me. I immediately released the squire; and he went on his way.
What! Quarrelling, Markham? cried the vicar, and about that young widow, I think? he added. But let me tell you, young man, she's not worth it.
Mr. Millward! I exclaimed, turned away, and hastened homewards.
Chapter XI
Three weeks passed over. Mrs. Graham and I were now friends or brother and sister. She called me Gilbert, and I called her Helen. I saw her twice a week. I behaved with such propriety that she never had occasion to reprove me once. This assumption of brotherly nonchalance was very hard to sustain, and I often felt myself a hypocrite with it all. I saw too, or rather I felt, that, in spite of herself, I was not indifferent to her.
Where are you going, Gilbert? said Rose, one evening, shortly after tea.
To take a walk, was the reply.
You're going to Wildfell Hall, aren't you?
So what?
It's better not to go there so often.
Nonsense, child! I don't go once in six weeks what do you mean?
Well, I've heard so much about her lately, both at the Wilsons' and the vicarage And don't you remember last winter, Gilbert, all that about the false name to the picture; and how she explained it; and then, how suddenly she started up and left the room when that person came and who Arthur told us was his mamma's friend?
Yes, Rose, I remember it all. But thank God, I know her.
Oh, Gilbert! You know nothing of her former life; and last year, at this time, you did not know that such a person existed. But what will mamma say, Gilbert?
Mamma needn't know.
But she must know some time.
Mrs. Graham and I are two friends and will be.
Jane Wilson thinks your visits to the old hall are another proof of her depravity.
Confound Jane Wilson!
And Eliza Millward is quite grieved about you.
How do they know that I go there?
They spy out everything.
Oh, I never thought of this! And so they dare to turn my friendship into food for further scandal against her! That proves the falsehood of their other lies.
Just at that moment the vicar entered the room. Just then my mother came in, and offered him a cup of tea.
I thank you, replied the vicar; but I prefer to take a glass of your excellent ale, if it's possible.
With pleasure! cried my mother, pulled the bell and ordered the beverage.
I've visited Mrs. Graham, you know continued he.
Have you, indeed?
He nodded gravely, and added with awful emphasis. Then he struck his stick on the floor. My 'Mrs. Graham,' said I, he continued, 'these are terrible reports!' 'What, sir?' says she. 'It is my duty as your pastor,' said I, 'to tell you them.' So I told her!
You did, sir? cried I.
He merely glanced towards me, and continued:
It was a painful duty, Mrs. Markham but I told her!
And how did she take it? asked my mother.
She turned white in the face, he replied; and drew her breath through her teeth. But she offered no extenuation or defence. She told me that my remonstrance was unavailing, that my presence was displeasing while I spoke such things. I sadly grieved to find her case so hopeless.
Mrs. Markham, my daughters must not consort with her. As for your sons, as for you, young man he continued.
As for me, sir, I began, but snatched up my hat and bolted from the room. The next minute I was hurrying in the direction of Wildfell Hall.