19 Tenant Of Wildfell Hall-Abridged By Stephanie Poppins

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, Helen goes down to dinner, resolving to be in good spirits, but when Mr. Huntingdon asks Annabella Wilmot to sing for the company, she is overcome with jealousy and bitterness. She is now in love with him.

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 18.

Continued.

When I ventured to the drawing room,

I found Mr.

Boreham had ventured to follow his comrades to the field,

And shortly after lunch,

To which they did not think of returning,

I volunteered to accompany the ladies in a walk and show Annabella and Millicent the beauties of the country.

We took a long ramble and re-entered the park just as the sportsmen were returning.

Toil spent and travel stained,

The main body of them crossed over the grass to avoid us,

But Mr.

Huntington,

All spattered and splashed as he was and stained with the blood of his prey,

Came out of his way to meet us with cheerful smiles and words,

For all but me,

And placing himself between Annabella Wilmot and myself,

Walked up the road and began to relate the various exploits and disasters of the day.

At length,

Mr.

Huntington turned to me and addressing me in a confidential whisper said,

Helen,

Why did you burn my picture?

Because I wish to destroy it,

I answered with an asperity it is useless now to lament.

Oh,

Very good,

Was the reply,

If you don't value me,

I must turn to somebody that will.

I thought this was partly in jest,

A half-playful mixture of mock resignation and pretended indifference,

But immediately he resumed his place beside Miss Wilmot,

And from that hour to this,

During all that evening,

And all the next day,

And the next,

And the next,

And all this morning,

The 22nd,

He has never given me one kind word or one pleasant look.

My aunt observes the change,

And though she has not inquired the course or made any remark to me on the subject,

I see it gives her pleasure.

Miss Wilmot observes it too,

And triumphantly ascribes it to her own superior charms and blandishments,

But I am truly miserable,

More so than I like to acknowledge myself.

Pride refuses to aid me,

It has brought me into the scrape,

And it will not help me out of it.

He meant no harm,

It was only his joyous,

Playful spirit,

And I,

By my acrimonious resentment,

So serious,

So disproportioned to the offence,

Have so wounded his feelings,

So deeply offended him,

I fear he will never forgive me,

And all for a mere jest.

He thinks I dislike him,

And he must continue to think so.

I must lose him forever,

And Annabella may win him and triumph as she will.

But it is not my loss nor her triumph I deplore so greatly as the wreck of my fond hopes for his advantage,

And her unworthiness of his affection,

And the injury he will do himself by trusting his happiness to her.

She does not love him,

She thinks only of herself.

She cannot appreciate the good that is in him,

She will neither see it nor value it nor treasure it.

She will neither deplore his faults nor attempt the amendment,

But rather aggravate them by her own.

And I doubt whether she will not deceive him after all.

I see she is playing double between him and Lord Loberer,

And while she amuses herself with a lively Huntingdon,

She tries her utmost to enslave his moody friend,

And should she succeed in bringing both to her feet,

The fascinating commoner will have but little chance against the lordly peer.

Mrs.

Wilmot and Ballman have severely taken occasion by his neglect of me to renew their advances,

And if I were like Annabella and some others I should take advantage of their perseverance,

But justice and honesty apart I could not bear to do it.

I am annoyed enough by their present persecutions without encouraging them further,

And even if I did it would have precious little effect upon him.

He sees me suffering under the condescending attentions and prosaic discourses of one and the repulsive obtrusions of the other without so much as a shadow of commiseration for me or resentment against my tormentors.

Mr.

Huntington never could have loved me or he would not have resigned me so willingly,

And he would not go on talking to everybody else so cheerfully as he does,

Laughing and jesting with Lord Lobra and my uncle,

Teasing Millicent Hargrave and flirting with Annabella Wilmot as if nothing were on his mind.

Well why can't I hate him?

I must be infatuated or I should scorn to regret him as I do,

But I must rally all the powers I have remaining and try to tear him from my heart.

There goes the dinner bell and here comes my aunt to scold me for sitting here at my desk all day instead of staying with the company.

I wish the company were gone.

Chapter 19.

An Incident What have I done and what will be the end of it?

I cannot calmly reflect upon it.

I cannot sleep.

I must have recourse to my diary again.

I will commit it to paper tonight and see what I shall think of it tomorrow.

I went down to dinner resolving to be cheerful and well-conducted and kept my resolution very creditably,

Considering how my head ached and how wretched I felt.

I don't know what is to come over me of late.

My very energies,

Both mental and physical,

Must be strangely impaired or I should not have acted so weakly in many respects as I have done.

But I have not been well this last day or two.

I suppose it's with sleeping and eating so little and thinking so much.

But to return,

I was exerting myself to sing and play for the amusement and at the request of my aunt,

Before the gentleman came into the drawing room,

Millicent asked for a little Scotch song and I was just in the middle of it when they entered.

The first thing Mr Huntington did was to walk up to Annabella.

Now,

Miss Wilmot,

Won't you give us some music tonight?

Said he.

Come,

The piano is vacant.

It was,

For I had quitted it immediately upon hearing his petition.

Had I been endowed with a proper degree of self-possession,

I should have turned to the lady myself and joined my entreaties to his.

But I felt it too deeply to do anything but rise from the music stall and throw myself back on the sofa.

I knew Annabella's musical talents were superior to mine,

But that was no reason why I should be treated as a perfect non-entity.

The timing and the manner of his asking her appeared to a perfect insult to me and I could have wept with pure vexation.

Meantime,

She exultantly seated herself at the piano and favoured him with two of his favourite songs.

In such a superior style,

Even I soon lost my anger in admiration and listened with a sort of gloomy pleasure to the skilful modulations of her full-toned and powerful voice.

No wonder he should hunger and thirst to hear her sing.

I now forgave him for my heart,

His reckless slight of me,

And I felt ashamed at my pettish resentment of such a trifle.

There now,

Said she,

Playfully running her fingers over the keys,

What shall I give you next?

But in saying this,

She looked at Lord Loberer,

Who was standing a little behind leaning against the back of a chair,

An attentive listener too,

Experiencing,

To judge by his countenance,

Much the same feelings of mingled pleasure and sadness as I did.

But the look she gave him plainly said,

Do you choose for me now?

I've done enough for him and I'll gladly exert myself to gratify you.

And thus encouraged,

His lordship came forward,

And turning over the music,

Presently set before her a little song I had noticed before,

And read more than once,

With an interest arising from the circumstance of my connecting it in my mind with the reigning tyrant of my thoughts.

And now with my nerves already excited and half unstruck,

I could not hear those words so sweetly warbled forth without some symptoms of emotion,

I was not able to suppress.

Tears rose unbidden to my eyes and I buried my face in the sofa pillow,

That they might flow unseen while I listened.

When it ceased,

I longed for nothing so much as to be out of the room.

The sofa was not far from the door,

But I did not dare to raise my head,

For I knew Mr Huntington was standing near me,

And I knew by the sound of his voice,

As he spoke in answer to Lord Loberer,

His face was turned towards mine.

Perhaps a half suppressed sob had caught his ear and caused him to look round,

Heaven forbid.

But with a violent effort I checked all further signs of weakness,

Dried my tears,

And when I thought he turned away again,

I rose and left the apartment,

Taking refuge in the library.

There was no light there but the faint red glow of the neglected fire.

I did not want a light,

I only wanted to indulge my thoughts,

Unnoticed and undisturbed.

And sitting down on a low stall before the easy chair,

I sunk my head upon his cushioned seat and thought and thought till the tears gushed out again,

And I wept like any child.

Presently,

However,

The door was gently opened and someone entered the room.

I trusted it was only a servant and did not stir.

It was closed again but now I was not alone.

A hand gently touched my shoulder and a voice said softly,

Helen,

What is the matter?

I could not answer at the moment.

You must and shall tell me,

Was added more vehemently.

Then the speaker threw himself on his knees beside me on the rug and forcibly possessed himself of my hand.

I hastily courted away and replied,

It is nothing to you,

Mr Huntingdon.

Are you sure it is nothing to me?

He returned.

Can you swear you were not thinking of me while you wept?

This was unendurable.

I made an effort to rise but he was kneeling on my dress.

Tell me,

Continued he,

I want to know because if you were,

I've something to say to you and if not and if not I'll go.

Go then,

I cried,

But fearing he would obey too well and never come again,

I hastily added,

Or say what you have to say and have done with it.

But which,

Said he,

For I shall only say it if you really were thinking of me.

So tell me,

Helen,

You're too excessively impertinent,

Mr Huntingdon.

Not at all,

Too pertinent you mean,

So you won't tell me.

Well,

I'll spare your woman's pride in construing your silence into yes,

I'll take it for granted I was the subject of your thoughts and the cause of your affliction.

Indeed,

Sir,

If you deny it,

I won't tell you my secret,

Threatened he,

And I did not interrupt him again or even attempt to repulse him,

Though he'd take my hand once more and half embrace me with his other arm.

I was scarcely conscious of it at the time.

It is this,

Resumed he,

It is this,

Resumed he,

Annabella Wilmot in comparison with you is like a flaunting peony compared with a sweet wild rosebud gemmed with dew,

And I love you to distraction.

Now tell me if that intelligence gives you any pleasure.

Silence again,

That means yes.

Then let me add that I cannot live without you,

And if you answer no to this last question,

You will drive me mad.

Will you bestow yourself upon me?

You will,

He cried,

Nearly squeezing me to death in his arms.

No,

No,

I exclaimed,

Struggling to free myself.

You must ask my uncle and aunt.

They won't refuse me if you don't.

I'm not so sure of that,

My aunt dislikes you.

But you don't,

Helen.

Say you love me and I'll go.

I wish you would go,

I replied.

I will this instant if only you'll say you love me.

You know I do,

I answered,

And again he caught me in his arms and smothered me with kisses.

At that moment,

My aunt opened wide the door and stood before us,

Candle in hand,

In shocked and horrified amazement,

Gazing alternately at Mr Huntington and at me,

For we both started up and now stood wide enough asunder.

But his confusion was only for a moment.

Rallying in an instant with the most enviable assurance,

He began,

I beg 10,

000 pardons,

Mrs Maxwell.

Don't be too severe upon me.

I've been asking your sweet niece to take me for better,

For worse,

And she,

Like a good girl,

Informs me she cannot think of it without her uncle and aunt's consent.

So let me implore you not to condemn me to eternal wretchedness.

If you favour my cause,

I'm safe.

For Mr Maxwell,

I'm certain.

Can refuse you nothing.

We will talk of this tomorrow,

Sir,

Said my aunt coldly.

It is a subject that demands mature and serious deliberation.

At present,

You had better return to the drawing room.

But meantime,

Pleaded he,

Let me commend my cause to your most indulgent.

No indulgence for you,

Mr Huntington,

Said my aunt,

Must come between me and the consideration of my niece's happiness.

Ah,

True,

He replied.

I know she's an angel and I'm a presumptuous dog to dream of possessing such a treasure.

But nevertheless,

I would sooner die than relinquish her in favour of the best man that ever went to heaven.

And as for her happiness,

I would sacrifice my body and soul.

Body and soul,

Mr Huntington,

Sacrifice your soul.

Well,

I would lay down life.

You would not be required to lay it down.

I would spend it then,

Devote my life and all its powers to the promotion and preservation.

Another time,

Sir,

We will talk of this and I should have felt disposed to judge more favourably of your pretensions if you too had chosen another time and place.

And let me add another manner for your declaration.

Reviews

Hmm, we don’t trust him… poor Helen! Thank you❤️🙏🏼❤️