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.
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 Read and abridged by Stephanie Poppins At last I was on my way to Grasdale Manor,
Too busy with my own thoughts to care to drive the gig myself.
I would see Mrs Huntingdon now,
There could be no impropriety in that.
Her husband had been dead above a year and by her indifference,
Or her joy at my unexpected arrival,
I could soon tell whether her heart was truly mine.
My companion,
A loquacious forward fellow,
Was not disposed to lead me to the indulgence of my private cogitations,
However.
There they go,
Said he as the carriages filed away before us.
They'll be brave doings on yonger today as what comes tomorrow.
Know anything of that family,
Sir,
Or are you a stranger in these parts?
I know them by report.
That's the best of them gone anyhow.
I suppose the old missus is going to leave after the stir has gotten over and taken herself off to live on her bed of jointure,
And the young,
At least the new one,
Is coming to live at the grove.
Is Mr Hargrave married then?
Aye,
Sir,
A few months since.
He should have been a wed of four to a widow lady,
But they couldn't agree over the money.
She'd a very long purse,
And Mr Hargrave wanted it all to his self,
But she wouldn't let it go,
And so they fell out.
This one ain't quite as rich,
Nor as handsome,
But she hasn't been married before.
She's very plain,
They say,
In getting on forty or past.
She didn't jump at this opportunity.
She thought she'd never get a better.
I guess she thought that having a husband,
And young and handsome,
Was worth all ever she had.
I'll lay she'll rue her bargain for long.
You seem to be well acquainted with them,
I observed.
Yeah,
I was a servant yonder for several years,
But I couldn't stand their niggly ways.
She got ever longer and worse at Mrs with her nipping and scroing and watching and grudging,
So I thought I'd find another place is what came.
And then the man proceeded to discourse upon his present position as Oslo at the Rosen Crown.
Are we not near the house,
Said I,
After some time,
Interrupting his continued discourse?
Yes,
Sir,
Yonds the park.
My heart sank within me to behold that stately mansion in the midst of his expansive grounds,
The park as beautiful now in its wintry garb as it could be in its summer glory.
The majestic sweep,
The undulating swell and fall,
Displayed to full advantage in that robe of dazzling purity,
Stainless and printless,
Save one long winding track left by the trooping deer.
The stately timber trees with their heavy laden branches gleamed white against the dull grey sky,
The deep encircling woods and the broad expanse of water sleeping in frozen quiet,
The weeping ash and willow drooping their snow-clad boughs all presented a picture striking indeed and pleasing to an unencumbered mind,
But by no means encouraging to me.
I asked my companion if he knew whether her late husband had left a will and how the property had been disposed of.
Yes,
He knew all about it,
He said,
And I was quickly informed that to her had been left the full control and management of the estate during her son's minority.
Besides the absolute unconditional possession of her own fortune,
I knew her father had not given her much,
And the small additional sum that had been settled upon her before marriage.
Before the close of the explanation,
We drew up at the park gates.
Now for the trial,
If I should find her within,
But alas,
She might be still at Stanningley.
Her brother had given me no intimation to the contrary.
I inquired at the porter's lodge if Mrs Huntington were at home.
No,
She was still with her aunt,
But she was expected to return before Christmas.
She usually spent most of her time at Stanningley,
I was told,
Only coming to Grassedale now occasionally when the management of affairs or the interest of her tenants and dependents required her presence.
Near what town is Stanningley situated?
I asked.
Now then,
My man,
Give me the reins and we'll return.
I must have some breakfast at the Rosen Crown and then away to Stanningley by the first coach.
You'll not get there today,
Sir,
My companion answered.
No matter,
I replied,
I don't want to get there today.
I want to get there tomorrow and pass the night on the road.
At an inn,
Sir?
You'd better by half stay at our house.
Start fresh tomorrow and have the whole day for your journey.
What,
And lose twelve hours?
Not I.
Perhaps you're related to Mrs Huntington,
Said he,
Seeking to indulge his curiosity.
I have not that honour,
I replied.
Oh well,
Returned he with a dubious sidelong glance.
There's many a fine lady like that has had kinsfolks poorer,
Nor what you are,
Sir,
I should think.
No doubt,
And there's many a fine gentleman would esteem himself vastly honoured to be able to claim kindred with the lady you mention.
My companion now stared cunningly at my face.
Perhaps,
Sir,
You mean to.
.
.
I guessed what was coming and I checked the impertinent conjecture.
Perhaps you'll be so good as to be quiet a moment,
I'm busy.
Busy,
Sir?
In my mind,
Yes,
And I don't want to have my cogitations disturbed.
Indeed,
I'm busy.
Indeed,
Sir.
My disappointment had not very greatly affected me,
Or I should not have been able to so quietly bear with the fellow's impertinence.
The fact is,
I thought it as well,
Nay better all things considered,
I should not see Helen today,
That I should have time to compose my mind for the interview,
To prepare it for a heavier disappointment.
After the intoxicating realisation,
It was her brother who was married,
And not her,
And having my former apprehensions removed.
Yet,
Travelling a night and day without intermission and rushing in hot haste through six miles of new-fallen snow,
I could not possibly be in a very presentable condition.
It was a long journey to Stanningley for those two,
Slow travelling days,
But I did not deny myself need for refreshment on the road,
Nor even a night's rest at a wayside inn,
Choosing rather to brook a little delay than to present myself worn,
Wild and weather-beaten.
Next morning,
Therefore,
I not only fortified myself with as substantial a breakfast as my excited feelings would allow me,
But I bestowed a little more than usual time and care upon my toilet,
And furnished,
With a change of linen from my small carpet bag,
Well-brushed clothes,
Well-polished boots and neat new gloves.
I mounted the coach,
And had nearly two stages yet before me,
But it passed through the neighbourhood of Stanningley,
And having desired to be set down as near to the hall as possible,
I had nothing to do but to sit with folded arms and speculate about the coming hour.
It was a clear,
Frosty morning.
The very fact of sitting exalted aloft,
Surveying the snowy landscape and sweet,
Sunny sky,
Inhaling the pure,
Bracing air,
And crunching away over the crisp,
Frozen snow,
Was exhilarating enough in itself,
But add to this the idea of to what goal I was hastening,
And whom I expected to meet,
And you may have some faint conception of my frame of mind at the time.
Only a faint one,
Though,
For my heart swelled with unspeakable delight,
And my spirits rose almost to madness,
In spite of my prudent endeavours to bind them down to reasonable platitude,
By thinking of the undeniable difference between Helen's rank and mine,
Not to mention the long,
Unbroken silence since our parting,
And above all of her cool,
Cautious art,
Whose counsel she would doubtless be careful not to slight again.
Then,
"'Gentlemen for Stanningley Hall,
' cried the coachman,
And I rose and threw my carpet-bag onto the ground,
Preparatory to dropping myself down after it.
Gladly would I have lingered around the place for hours,
In the hope of catching at least one distant glimpse of her before I went.
But it must not be.
I must not suffer her to see me,
For what could have brought me hither but the hope of reviving her attachment,
With a view hereafter to obtain her hand?
And could I bear that she should think be capable of such a thing?
Even if she should have a lingering affection for me still,
Ought I to disturb her peace by awakening those feelings?
To subject her to the struggles of conflicting duty and inclination,
To whichsoever side the latter might allure,
Or the former imperatively call her?
Whether she should deem it her duty to risk the slights and censures of the world,
The sorrow and displeasure of those she loved,
For a romantic idea of truth and constancy,
Nor to sacrifice her individual wishes to the feelings of her friends and her own sense of prudence and the fitness of things?
No,
I would go at once,
And she should never know I had approached the place of her abode,
For though I might disclaim all idea of ever aspiring to her hand,
Or even of soliciting a place in her friendly regard,
Her peace should not be broken by my presence,
Nor her heart afflicted by the sight of my fidelity.
Adieu then,
Dear Helen,
Forever.
Adieu.
So said I,
And yet I could not tear myself away.
I moved a few paces,
Then I looked back,
For one last view of her stately home,
That I might have its outward form at least impressed upon my mind,
As indelibly as her own image,
Which alas I must not see again.
I walked a few steps further,
Then lent my back against a rough old tree that grew beside the road.
While standing thus,
Absorbed in my gloomy reverie,
A gentleman's carriage came round the corner.
I did not look at it,
And had it rolled quietly by,
I should not have remembered the fact of its appearance.
But a tiny voice from within it roused me,
By exclaiming,
Mamma,
Mamma,
Here's Mr Markham.
I did not hear the reply,
But presently the same voice answered,
It is indeed,
Mamma.
Look for yourself.
