4 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 chapter, there is a party on November 5th, at the Markham's house.

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 4. The Party Our party on the 5th of November passed off very well in spite of Mrs. Graham's refusal to grace it with her presence. Indeed, It's probable had she been there, There would have been less cordiality, Freedom and frolic amongst us than there was without her. My mother as usual was cheerful and chatty, Full of activity and good nature and only fault in being too anxious to make her guests happy, Therefore forcing several of them to do what their soul abhorred in the way of eating or drinking, Sitting opposite the blazing fire or talking when they would be silent. Nevertheless, They bore it very well, Being all in their holiday humours. Mr. Millwood was mighty in important dogmas and sententious jokes, Pompous anecdotes and oracular discourses, Dealt out for the edification of the whole assembly in general, And of the admiring Mrs. Markham, The polite Mr. Lawrence, The sedate Mary Millwood, The quiet Richard Wilson and the matter-of-fact Robert, In particular, As being the most attentive listeners. Mrs. Wilson was more brilliant than ever, With her budgets of fresh news and old scandal strung together with trivial questions and remarks and oft-repeated observations uttered apparently for the sole purpose of denying a moment's rest to her inexhaustible organs of speech. She had brought her knitting with her, And it seemed as if her tongue had laid a wager over her fingers to outdo them in swift and ceaseless motion. Her daughter Jane was, Of course, As graceful and elegant as she could possibly manage to be, For here were all the ladies to outshine and the gentlemen to charm, And Mr. Lawrence especially to capture and subdue. Her little hearts to affect his subjugation were too subtle and impalpable to attract my observation, But I thought there was a certain refined affection, A superiority and an ungenial self-consciousness about her, That negatived all her advantages, And after she was gone, Rose interpreted to me her various looks, Words and actions with a mingled acuteness and sperity that made me wonder at the lady's artifice. Richard Wilson, Jane's younger brother, Sat in a corner apparently good-tempered but silent and shy. He would have been happy enough in his own quiet way if my mother could only have let him alone, But in her mistaken kindness she would keep persecuting him with her attentions. Rose informed me he never would have favoured us with his company but for the inopportunities of his sister Jane, Who was most anxious to show Mr. Lawrence she had at least one brother more gentlemanly and refined than Robert. Mary Millward was another mute, Not as much tormented with cruel kindness as Dick Wilson, Because she had a short, Decided way of answering refusing. However that might be, She certainly did not give much pleasure to the company. Nor did she appear to derive much from it. Eliza told me she'd only come because her father insisted upon it, Having taken into his head she devoted herself too exclusively to her household duties. She seemed to me a good-humoured person on the whole. My Eliza was charming beyond description, Coquettish without affectation, And desirous to engage my attention than all that of the room besides. Her delight in having me near her, Seated or standing by her side, Was plainly legible in her glowing face and heaving bosom, However belied by saucy words and gestures. But I had better hold my tongue if I boast of these things now, For I shall have to blush hereafter. To proceed then with the various individuals of our party. Rose was simple and natural as usual. Fergus was impertinent and absurd. And finally Mr. Lawrence was gentlemanly and inoffensive, And polite to the vicar and ladies, Especially his hostess and her daughter, And Miss Wilson. Misguided man, He had not the taste to prefer Eliza Millwood. Mr. Lawrence and I were on tolerably intimate terms, Essentially of reserved habits, And but seldom quitting the secluded place of his birth, Where he had lived in solitary state since the death of his father. He had neither the opportunity nor the inclination for forming many acquaintances. I liked the man well enough, But he was too cold and shy and self-contained to obtain my cordial sympathies. He was like a new garment, All very neat and trimmed to look at, But so tight in the elbows you would fear to split the seams by the unrestricted motion of your arms, And so droop and fine in surface that you scrupled to expose it to a single drop of rain. Soon after the arrival of the guests, My mother mentioned Mrs. Graham, Regretted she was not there to meet them, And explained to the Millwoods and Wilsons the reason she'd given for neglecting to return their calls, Hoping they would excuse her, As she was sure she did not mean to be uncivil, And would gladly see them any time. "'But she is a very singular lady, Mr. Lawrence, ' added she. "'We don't know what to make of her, But I dare say you can tell us something about her, For she is your tenant, You know. ' All eyes were turned to Mr. Lawrence. "'I, Mrs. Markham? ' said he. "'You are mistaken. I don't—that is, I've seen her, Certainly, But I'm the last person you should apply to. ' "'For information regarding Mrs. Graham—' He then immediately turned to Rose, And asked her to favour the company with a song, Or a tune on the piano. "'No, ' said she. "'You must ask Miss Wilson. She outshines us all in singing and in music, Too. ' Miss Wilson demurred. "'She'll sing readily enough, ' said Fergus. "'If you'll undertake to stand by her, Mr. Lawrence, And turn over the leaves for her. ' "'I shall be most happy to do so. Miss Wilson, Will you allow me? ' She bridled her long neck and smiled, And suffered him to lead her to the instrument. But we had not done with Mrs. Graham yet. "'I don't take wine, Mrs. Markham, ' said Mr. Millward, Upon the introduction of that beverage. "'I'll take a little of your home-brewed ale. I always prefer your home-brewed to anything else. ' Flattered at this compliment, My mother rang the bell, And a china jug of our best ale was presently brought. "'Now this is the thing! ' cried he, Pouring out a glass of the same in a long stream, Skillfully directed from the jug to the tumbler, So as to produce much foam without spilling a drop. "'There's nothing like this, Mrs. Markham, ' said he. "'I always maintain there's nothing to compare with your home-brewed ale. ' Then we went on to discuss Mrs. Graham. "'What do you think of her? ' I was asked. "'I cannot say that I like her much, ' said I. "'She is handsome, Or rather I should say distinguished and interesting in her appearance, But by no means amiable. A woman liable to take strong prejudices, I should fancy, And stick to them through thick and thin. Too hard, Too sharp, Too bitter for my taste. ' Mr. Lawrence made no reply, But looked down and bit his lip, And shortly afterwards rose and sauntered up to Miss Wilson, As much repelled by me, I fancy, As attracted by her. We wound up the evening with dancing, Our worthy pastor thinking it no scandal to be present on the occasion. But Mary Millwood obstinately refused to join us, And so did Richard Wilson, Though my mother earnestly entreated him to do so, And even offered to be his partner. We managed very well without them, However. With a single set of quadrilles and several country dances, We carried it on to a pretty late hour, And at length, Having called upon our musician to strike up a waltz, I was just about to wallowlise around in that delightful dance, When Mr. Millwood interposed with, "'No, No, I don't allow that. Come now, It's time to be going home. ' "'Oh no, Papa, ' pleaded Eliza. "'Hide time, My girl, Hide time. Moderation is in all things, Remember? That's the plan. Let your moderation be known unto all men. ' But in revenge, I followed Eliza into the dimly-lighted passage, Where, Under pretence of helping her on with her chore, I fear I must plead guilty to snatching a kiss behind her father's back. But alas, In turning round, There was my mother close beside me. The consequence was that no sooner were the guests departed than I was doomed to a very serious remonstrance, Which unpleasantly checked the galloping course of my spirits, And made a disagreeable close to the evening. "'My dear Gilbert, ' said she, "'I wish you wouldn't do so. You know how deeply I have your advantage at heart, How I love you and prize you above everything else in the world, And how much I long to see you well settled in life, And how bitterly it would grieve me to see you married to that girl, Or any other in the neighbourhood. What you see in her I don't know. It isn't only the want of money I think about, Nothing of the kind, But there's neither beauty nor cleverness, Nor goodness, Nor anything else that's desirable. If you knew your own value as I do, You wouldn't dream of it. ' "'Mother, Do be quiet, ' I said. "'I hate to be lectured. I'm not going to marry yet, I tell you, But dear me, Mayn't I enjoy myself at all? ' "'Yes, My dear boy, But not in that way. Indeed you shouldn't do such things. You'd be wronging the girl if she was what she ought to be. But I assure you she's as artful as a little hussy as anybody need wish to see, And you'll get entangled in her snares before you know where you are. And if you do marry her, Gilbert, You'll break my heart. So there's an end to it. ' "'Well, Don't cry about it, Mother, ' said I, For the tears were now gushing from her eyes. "'Set your mind at rest, For I promise to, That is, I promise to think twice before I take any important step you seriously disapprove of. ' "'And so, ' saying, I lighted my candle and went to bed, Considerably quenched in spirit.

Reviews

That was very nice thank you but really I’m waiting for chapter 12 of the Bridlington Hotel please… 😬🙏🏼 thanks Stephanie ❤️

Oh so many characters! I’m afraid I can hardly keep them straight— but I try! Thank you❤️🙏🏽