13 The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall Abridged By Stephanie Poppins

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is framed as a series of letters from Gilbert Markham to his friend about the events connected with his meeting a mysterious young widow, calling herself Helen Graham. She arrives at Wildfell Hall, an Elizabethan mansion that has been empty for many years, with her young son and a servant.

Contrary to the early 19th-century norms, she pursues an artist's career and makes an income by selling her pictures. Her strict seclusion soon gives rise to gossip in the neighbouring village and she becomes a social outcast. Refusing to believe anything scandalous about her, Gilbert befriends her and discovers her past.

In this episode, Gilbert takes a walk and heads for his own cornfields, only to find little Arthur and Helen Graham walking there. Upon seeing them, he reverses direction. Then, when Arthur calls out to Gilbert to wait, Gilbert only walks faster, determined never to talk to Helen again.

Transcript

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. That's it. 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 Anne Bronte Read and abridged by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 13. A Return to Duty My dear Gilbert, I wish you would try to be a little more amiable, Said my mother one morning after some display of unjustifiable ill humor on my part. You say there's nothing the matter with you and nothing has happened to grieve you and yet I never saw anyone so altered as you within these last few days. You haven't said a good word for anybody. Friends, Strangers, Equals and inferiors, It's all the same. I do wish you tried to check it. Check what? Your strange temper. You don't know how it spoils you. I'm sure a finer disposition than yours by nature could not be if you let it have fair play. So you've no excuse that way. While she thus remonstrated, I took up a book and laying it open on the table before me, Pretended to be deeply absorbed in its perusal, For I was equally unable to justify myself and unwilling to acknowledge my errors and I wished to have nothing to say on the matter. But my excellent parent went on lecturing, Then came to coaxing and began to stroke my hair and I was getting to feel quite a good boy. But my mischievous brother who was idling about the room revived my corruption by suddenly calling out, Don't touch him mother, He'll bite. He's a very tiger in human form. I've given him up for my part, Fairly disowned him, Cast him off root and branch. It's as much as my life is worth to come within six yards of him. The other day he nearly fractured my skull for singing a pretty inoffensive love song on purpose to amuse him. Oh Gilbert, How could you? Exclaimed my mother. I told you to hold your tongue first, You know Fergus, Said I. Yes, But when I assured you it was no trouble and went on with the next verse, Thinking you might like it better, You clutched me by the shoulder and dashed me away, Right against the wall there. With such force I thought I'd bitten my tongue in two and expected to see the place plastered with my brains. And when I put my hand to my head and found my skull not broken, I thought it was a miracle and no mistake. But poor fellow, Added he with a sentimental sigh, His heart's broken, That's the truth of it, And his head's, Will you be silent now, Cried I, Starting up, And eyeing the fellow so fiercely that my mother, Thinking I meant to inflict some grievous bodily harm, Laid her hand on my arm and besought me to let him alone. And he walked leisurely out with his hands in his pockets. I'm not going to defile my fingers with him, Said I, In answer to the maternal intercession. I wouldn't touch him with the tongs. I now recollected I had business with Robert Wilson, Concerning the purchase of a certain field adjoining my farm, A business I had been putting off from day to day, For I had no interest in anything now. And besides, I was misanthropically inclined, And moreover had a particular objection to meeting Jane Wilson, Or her mother, For though I had good reason to now credit their reports concerning Mrs. Graham, I did not like them the bit the better for it, Or Eliza Millward, For that matter. And the thought of meeting them was the more repugnant to me that I could not now defy their seeming calumnies and triumph in my own convictions as before. But to-day I determined to make an effort to return to my duties. Though I found no pleasure in it, It would be less irksome than idleness. At all events, It would be more profitable. If life promised no enjoyment within my vocation, At least it offered no allurements out of it, And henceforth I would put my shoulder to the wheel and toil away, Like any poor drudge of a cart-horse that was fairly broken into its labour, And plod through life not wholly useless if not agreeable, And uncomplaining if not contented with my lot. Thus resolving with a kind of sudden resignation, If such a term may be allowed, I wended my way to Rycott Farm, Scarcely expecting to find the owner within at this time of the day. Absent he was, But expected home in a few minutes, And I was desired to step into the parlour and wait. The room was not empty. I scarcely checked an involuntary recoil, For there sat Miss Wilson, Chattering with Eliza Millward. I determined to be cool and calm, And Eliza seemed to have made the same resolution on her part. We had not met since the evening of the tea-party, But there was no visible emotion either side. There was even an ease and cheerfulness about her air and manner that I made no pretension to, But there was a depth of malice in her too expressive eye that plainly told me I was not forgiven, For, Though she no longer hoped to win me herself, She still hated her rival, And evidently delighted to wreak her spite on me. On the other hand, Miss Wilson was as affable and courteous as heart could wish, And though I was in no very conversable humour myself, The two ladies between them managed to keep up a pretty continuous fire of small talk. But Eliza Millward took advantage of the first convenient pause to ask if I had lately seen Mrs. Graham, In a tone of merely casual inquiry, But with a sidelong glance, Intended to be playfully mischievous, Really brimful and running over with malice. Not lately, I replied in a careless tone, But sternly repelling her odious glances with my eyes, For I was vexed to feel the colour mount into my forehead, Despite my strenuous efforts to appear unmoved. What, You beginning to tire already? She responded. I thought so noble a creature will have power to attach you for a year at least. I would rather not speak of her now. Ah, Then you are convinced at last of your mistake. You have at length discovered your divinity is not quite the immaculate. I desired you not to speak of her, Miss Eliza. Oh, I beg your pardon. I perceive Cupid's arrows have been too sharp for you. The wounds, Being more than skin deep, Are not yet healed, And bleed afresh at every mention of the loved one's name. Say rather, Interposed Miss Wilson, That Mr. Markham feels the name is unworthy to be mentioned in the presence of right-minded females. I wonder, Eliza, You should think of referring to that unfortunate person. You might know the mention of her would be anything but agreeable to anyone here present. How could this be borne? I arose and was about to clap my hat upon my head and burst away in wrathful indignation from the house, But recollecting just in time to save my dignity the folly of such a proceeding, And how it would only give my fair tormentors a merry laugh at my expense. For the sake of one I acknowledged in my own heart to be unworthy of the slightest sacrifice. Though the ghost of my former reverence and love hung still about me, That I could not bear to hear her name espoused by others, I merely walked to the window, And having spent a few seconds invengeably biting my lips, And sternly repressing the passionate heavings at my chest, I observed to Miss Wilson that I could see nothing of her brother, And added that as my time was precious, It would perhaps be better to call again to-morrow, At some time when I should be sure to find him at home. Oh no, Said she, If you wait a minute he'll be sure to come, For he has business in town, And will require a little refreshment before he goes. I submitted accordingly, With the best grace I could, And happily, For I had not long to wait. Mr. Wilson soon arrived, And indisposed for business as I was at that moment, And little as I cared for the field or its owner, I forced my attention to the matter in hand, With very creditable determination, And quickly concluded the bargain, Perhaps more to the thrifty farmer's satisfaction than he cared to acknowledge. Then, Leaving him to the discussion of a substantial refreshment, I gladly quitted the house and went to look after my reapers. Leaving them busy at work on the side of the valley, I ascended the hill, Intending to visit a cornfield in the more elevated regions, And see when it would be ripe for the sickle. But I did not visit that day, For as I approached, I beheld at no great distance, Mrs. Graham and her son coming down in the opposite direction. They saw me, And Arthur already was running to meet me, But I immediately turned back, And walked steadily homeward, For I had fully determined never to encounter his mother again. And regardless of the shrill voice in my ear calling upon me to wait a moment, I pursued the even tenor of my way, And he soon relinquished the pursuit as hopeless, Or was called away by his mother. At all events, When I looked back five minutes after, Not a trace of either was to be seen. This incident agitated and disturbed me most unaccountably, Unless you would account for it by saying that Cupid's arrows not only had been too sharp for me, But they were barbed and deeply rooted, And I had not yet been able to wrench them from my heart. However that be, I was rendered doubly miserable for the remainder of the day.

Reviews

Aww, he’s hurt… let’s see how he pulls out of it! Thank you❤️🙏🏽