16 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 neighboring 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 begins to read Helen's account of her early adulthood.

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 Stephanie Poppins Chapter 16. The Warnings of Experience Helen Markham's notes as follows. June 1st 1821 We have just returned to Stanningley. That is, We returned some days ago and are not yet settled and feel as if I never should be. We left town sooner than was intended in consequence of my uncle's indisposition. I wonder what would have been the result if we'd have stayed the full time. I'm quite ashamed of my new sprung distaste for country life. All my former occupation seems so tedious and dull. My former amusement so insipid and unprofitable. I cannot enjoy my music because there is nobody to hear it. I cannot enjoy my walks because there is no one to meet. I cannot enjoy my books because they have not power to arrest my attention. My head is so haunted with the recollections of the last few weeks. I cannot attend to them. My drawing suits me best for I can draw and think at the same time. And if my productions cannot now be seen by anyone but myself and those who do not care about them, They may possibly be hereafter. But then there is one face I am always trying to paint or to sketch face I am always trying to paint or to sketch and without success. That vexes me. As for the owner of that face, I cannot get him out of my mind and indeed I never try. I wonder whether he ever thinks of me and I wonder whether I shall ever see him again. And then might follow a train of other wonderments, Questions for time and fate to answer concluding with, Supposing all the rest be answered in the affirmative, I wonder whether I shall ever repent it as my aunt would tell me I should if she knew what I was thinking about. How distinctly I remember our conversation that evening before our departure for town when we were sitting together over the fire, My uncle having gone to bed with a slight attack of the gout. Helen, Said she after a thoughtful silence, Do you ever think about marriage? Yes, Aunt, Often. And do you ever contemplate the possibility of being married yourself or engage before the season is over? Sometimes, But I don't think it's all likely I ever shall. Why so? Because I imagine there must be only a very, Very few men in the world I should like to marry and of those it's ten to one I may never be acquainted with one or if I should it's twenty to one he may not happen to be single or take a fancy to me. That is no argument at all, Said she. It may be very true and I hope it is true that there are very few men you would choose to marry. But I want to exhort you to be watchful and circumspect from the very commencement of your career and not to suffer your heart to be stolen from you by the first foolish or unprincipled person that covets the possession of it. You know, My dear, You're only just 18. There is plenty of time before you and neither your uncle nor I are in any hurry to get you off our hands. There will be no lack of suitors for you can boast a good family, Pretty considerable fortune and expectations and I may as well tell you likewise, For if I don't others will, That you have your fair share of beauty besides and I hope you may never have cause to regret it. I hope not, Aunt, But why should you fear that? Because, My dear, Beauty is a quality which next to money is generally the most attractive to the worst kinds of men and therefore it's likely to entail a great deal of trouble on the possessor. Have you been troubled in that way, Aunt? No, Helen, Said she with reproachful gravity, But I know many who have and some through carelessness have been the wretched victims of deceit and sometimes through weakness have fallen into snares and temptations terrible to relate. Well, I shall be neither careless nor weak. Remember, Peter Helen, Don't boast but watch, She said, Keep a guard over your eyes and ears as the inlets of your heart and over your lips as the outlet lest they betray you in a moment of unwariness. Receive coldly and dispassionately every attention till you've ascertained and duly considered the worth of the aspirant. If you should marry the handsomest and most accomplished and superficially agreeable man in the world, You little know the misery that would overwhelm you if, After all, You should find him to be a worthless reprobate or even an impracticable fool. Believe me, Helen, Matrimony is a serious thing. I know it is, Said I, And I know there's truth and sense in what you say, But you need not fear me, For I not only should think it wrong to marry a man that was deficient in some sense of principle, But I should never be tempted to do it, For I could not like him if he was ever so handsome and ever so charming in other respects. It is needless to say I ought to be able to respect and honour the man I marry as well as love him, For I cannot love him without. So set your mind at rest. I was vexed at her incredulity, But I'm not sure my aunt's doubts were entirely without sagacity. I fear I found it much easier to remember her advice than to profit by it. Indeed, I've sometimes been led to question the soundness of her doctrines on those subjects. I commenced my career, Or my first campaign, As my uncle calls it, Kindling with bright hopes and fancies. At first I was delighted with the novelty and excitement of our London life, But soon I began to weary of its mingled turbulence and constraint and sigh for the freshness and freedom of home. My new acquaintances, Both male and female, Disappointed my expectations and vexed and depressed me by terms, For I soon grew tired of studying their peculiarities and laughing at their foibles. There was one elderly gentleman that annoyed me very much, A rich old friend of my uncle's, Whom I believe thought I could not do better than marry him. But besides his being old, He was ugly and disagreeable and wicked, I am sure. Then there was another less hateful but still more tiresome. One night at a ball he'd been more than usually tormenting, And my patience was quite exhausted. And then Mr. Boreham came upon me, Seemed determined to cling to me for the rest of the night, Bringing down upon me endless floods of reasoning to overwhelm me with conviction. But there was one present who seemed to have a better appreciation of my frame of mind. A gentleman stood by who had been watching our conference for some time, Evidently amused at my companion's remorseless pertinacity and my manifest annoyance, And laughing to himself at the asperity and uncompromising spirit of my replies. A length, However, He withdrew and went to the lady of the house, Apparently for the purpose of asking an introduction to me. For shortly after they both came up and she introduced him as Mr. Huntingdon, The son of a late friend of my uncle's. He asked me to dance. I gladly consented, Of course, And he was my companion during the remainder of my stay, Which was not long, For my aunt as usual insisted upon an early departure. I was sorry to go, For I had found my new acquaintance a very lively and entertaining companion. There was a graceful ease and freedom about what he said and did, After so much constraint and formality, As I had been doomed to suffer. There might be, It is true, A little too much careless boldness in his manner and address, But I was in so good a humour and so grateful for my late deliverance from Mr. Ballroom, That it did not anger me. But I was not likely to meet him again, I told my aunt, Unless as an occasional partner in the ballroom. It was not so, However, For I met him again the next morning. He came to call upon my uncle, Apologising for not having done so before, And after that I often met him, Sometimes in public, Sometimes at home, For he was very assiduous in paying his respects to his old friend, Who did not, However, Consider himself greatly obliged by the attention. I wonder what the deuce the lad means by coming so often, Said my uncle. Can you tell Helen? He wants none of my company, Nor I of his, That's certain. I wish you'd tell him so then, Said my aunt. What for? If I don't want him, Somebody does, Mayhap, Winking at me. Besides, He's a pretty tidy fortune, Peggy, You know, Not such a catch as Wilmot, But then Helen won't hear of that match. For some reason these old chaps don't go down well with the girls. I'll bet anything she'd rather have this young fellow without a penny than Wilmot with his house full of gold, Wouldn't you, Nell? Yes, Uncle, I said, But that's not saying much for Mr Huntington, For I'd rather be an old maid in a pauper than Mrs Wilmot. And Mrs Huntington, What would you rather be than Mrs Huntington, Eh? I'll tell you when I've considered the matter. Hmm, It needs consideration then, But come now, Would you rather be an old maid, Let alone the pauper? I can't tell until I'm asked, Said I. I left the room immediately to escape further examination, But five minutes after, In looking from my window, I beheld Mr Ballroom coming up to the door. I waited nearly half an hour in uncomfortable suspense, Expecting every minute to be called, And vainly longing to hear him go. Then footsteps were heard on the stairs, And my aunt entered the room with a solemn countenance and closed the door behind her. Here is Mr Ballroom, Helen, Said she. He wishes to see you. Oh, Aunt, Can't you tell him I'm indisposed? I'm sure I am to see him. Nonsense, My dear, She said. This is no trifling matter. He has come on a very important errand to ask for your hand in marriage for your uncle and me. I hope my uncle and you told him it was not in your power to give it. What right had he to ask anyone before me? Helen? What did my uncle say? He said he would not interfere in the matter if he liked to accept Mr Ballroom's obliging offer. Did he say obliging offer? No. He said if you'd like to take him, You might, And if not, You might please yourself. Well, He said right. What did you say, Aunt? It is no matter what I said. What will you say? That's the question. He's now waiting to ask you himself, But consider well before you go. And if you intend to refuse him, You must give me your reasons. I shall refuse him, Of course, Said I, But you must tell me how, For I want to be civil and yet decided, And when I've got rid of him, I'll give you my reasons afterwards. But stay, Helen, Sit down a little, Said my aunt. Mr Ballroom's in no particular hurry, For he has little doubt of your acceptance, And I want to speak to you. What are your objections to him? Do you deny he's an upright, Honourable man? No. Do you deny he's sensible, Sober and respectable? No, He may be all that, But. . . But, Helen, How many such men do you expect to meet within this world? Upright, Honourable, Sensible, Sober, Respectable? Is this such an everyday character that you should reject the possessor of such noble qualities without a moment's hesitation? But I hate him, Aunt, Said I, Interrupting this unusual flow of eloquence. Is this a Christian spirit you hate him, And he's so good a man? I don't hate him as a man, Aunt, But as a husband. Then why not? What objection do you find in him? Firstly, He's at least 40 years old, Considerably more, I should think, And I am but 18. Secondly, He's narrow-minded. Thirdly, His tastes and feelings are wholly dissimilar to mine. Fourthly, His looks, Voice and manner are particularly displeasing. And finally, I have an aversion to his whole person I can never surmount. Then you ought to surmount it, Said my aunt. I'm pleased to compare him for a moment with Mr. Huntington. Good looks apart. Tell me, Which is the better man? I have no doubt Mr. Huntington is a much better man than you think him, Said I. Just don't give Mr. Borme a flat denial. He has no idea of such a thing, And it would offend him greatly. I beg you to say you have no thoughts of matrimony at present. But, Aunt, I do have thoughts of it, Said I.

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Sometimes I love this book, and sometimes I am not so sure. I am sure that I love Stephanie’s reading.