37 Tenant Of Wildfell Hall - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Contrary to early 19th-century norms, she pursues an artist's career and earns an income by selling her pictures. Her strict seclusion soon leads 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, Helen rebuffs Mr. Hargrave's persistent advances.

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.

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 Chapter 37 The Neighbour Again Another year has passed and I am weary of this life.

And yet I cannot wish to leave it.

Whatever afflictions assail me here I cannot wish to go and leave my darling in this dark and wicked world alone,

Without a friend to guide him through its weary mazes,

To warn him of its thousand snares,

And guard him from the perils that beset him on every hand.

I am not well fitted to be his only companion,

I know,

But there is no other to supply my place.

I am too grave to minister to his amusements and enter into his infantile sports as a nurse or a mother ought to do,

And often his bursts of gleeful merriment trouble and alarm me.

I see them in his father's spirit and temperament and I tremble for the consequences,

And too often damp the innocent mirth I ought to share.

That father,

On the contrary,

Has no weight of sadness on his mind,

Is troubled with no fears,

No scruples concerning his son's future welfare,

And at evenings especially,

The times when the child sees him the most in the He is always particularly joconde and open-hearted,

Ready to laugh and jest with anything or anybody but me,

And I am particularly silent and sad.

Therefore,

Of course,

The child dotes upon his seemingly joyous,

Amusing,

Ever indulgent papa,

And will at any time gladly exchange my company for his.

This disturbs me greatly,

Not so much for the sake of my son's affection,

But for that influence over him which,

For his own advantage,

I would strive to purchase and retain,

And which,

For very spite,

His father delights to rob me of,

And from motives of mere idle egotism,

Is pleased to win to himself,

Making no use of it but to torment me and ruin the child.

My only consolation is he spends comparatively little of his time at home,

And during the months he passes in London or elsewhere,

I have a chance of recovering the ground I had lost,

And overcoming with good the evil he's wrought by his willful mismanagement.

But then it is a bitter trial to behold him on his return,

Doing his utmost to subvert my labours and transform my innocent,

Affectionate,

Tractable darling into a selfish,

Disobedient,

And mischievous boy,

Thereby preparing the soil for those vices he so successfully cultivated in his own perverted nature.

Happily,

There were none of Arthur's friends invited to Grasdale last autumn.

He took himself off to visit some of them instead.

I wish he would always do so,

And I wish his friends were numerous and loving enough to keep him amongst them all the year round.

Mr.

Hargrave,

Considerably to my annoyance,

Did not go with him,

But I think I've done with that gentleman at last.

For seven or eight months he behaved so remarkably well,

And managed so skillfully too,

That I was almost completely off my guard and really beginning to look upon him as a friend,

And even to treat him as such,

With certain prudent restrictions,

When,

Presuming upon my unsuspecting kindness,

He thought he might venture to overstep the bounds of decent moderation and propriety that had so long retained him.

It was on a pleasant evening at the close of May.

I was wandering in the park and he,

On seeing me there as he rode past,

Made bold to enter and approach me.

This was the first time he'd ventured to come within its enclosure since I'd been left alone,

Without the sanction of his mother's or sister's company,

Or at least the excuse of a message from them.

But Mr.

Hargrave managed to appear so calm and easy,

So respectful and self-possessed,

That,

Though a little surprised,

I was neither alarmed nor offended at the unusual liberty.

And he walked with me under the ash trees and by the waterside,

And talked with considerable animation,

Good taste and intelligence,

On many subjects,

Before I began to think about getting rid of him.

Then,

After a pause during which we both stood gazing on the calm blue water,

I revolving in my mind the best means of politely dismissing him,

He no doubt pondering other matters equally alien to the sweet sights and sounds that alone were present to his senses,

He suddenly electrified me by beginning,

In a peculiar tone,

Soft and low but perfectly distinct,

To pour forth the most unequivocal expressions of earnest and passionate love,

Pleading his cause with all the bold yet artful eloquence he could summon to his aid.

But I cut short his appeal and repulsed him so determinedly,

So decidedly,

And with such a mixture of scornful indignation tempered with cold,

Dispassionate sorrow and pity,

That he withdrew astonished,

Mortified and discomfited,

And a few days after I heard he had departed for London.

He returned,

However,

In eight or nine weeks,

And did not entirely keep aloof from me,

But comported himself in so remarkable a manner that his quick-sighted sister could not fail to notice the change.

"'What have you done to Walter,

Mrs.

Huntingdon?

' said she one morning,

When I called at the grove.

"'He has been so extremely ceremonious and stately of late.

I can't imagine what it's all about unless you've desperately offended him.

Tell me what it is that I may be your mediator and make you friends again.

' "'I have done nothing willingly to offend him,

' said I.

If he is offended he can best tell you himself what it is about.

"'I'll ask him,

' cried the giddy girl,

Springing up and putting her head out of the window.

"'He's only in the garden.

Walter—' "'No,

No,

Esther.

You will seriously displease me if you do,

And I shall leave you immediately and not come again for months,

Perhaps years.

' "'Did you call,

Esther?

' said her brother,

Approaching the window.

"'Yes,

I wanted to ask you—' "'Good morning,

Esther,

' said I,

Taking her hand and giving it a severe squeeze.

"'To ask you,

' continued she,

"'to get me a rose for Mrs.

Huntingdon.

' "'Mrs.

Huntingdon!

' she exclaimed,

Turning to me and still holding me fast by the hand.

"'I'm quite shocked at you.

You're just as angry and distant and cold as he is,

And I'm determined you shall be as good friends as ever before you go.

' "'Esther,

How can you be so rude?

' cried Mrs.

Hargrave,

Who was seated,

Gravely knitting,

In her easy chair.

"'Surely you will learn to conduct yourself like a lady.

' "'Well,

Mama,

You said yourself?

' But the young lady was silenced by the uplifted finger of her mama,

Accompanied with a very stern shake of the head.

"'Is she cross?

' whispered she to me,

But before I could add my share of reproof,

Mr.

Hargrave reappeared at the window with a beautiful moss rose in his hand.

"'Here,

Esther,

I brought you the rose,

' said he,

Extending it towards her.

"'Give it yourself,

You blockhead!

' cried she,

Recoiling with a spring from between us.

"'Mrs.

Huntingdon would rather receive it from you,

' replied he,

In a very serious tone,

But lowering his voice that his mother might not hear.

His sister took the rose and gave it to me.

"'My brother's compliments,

Mrs.

Huntingdon,

And he hopes you and he will come to a better understanding by and by.

"'Will that do,

Walter?

' asked the saucy girl,

Turning to him and putting her arm round his neck,

As he stood leaning upon the sill of the window.

"'Or should I have said you are sorry you were so touchy,

Or that you hope she will pardon your offence?

' "'You silly girl,

You don't know what you're talking about,

' replied he,

Gravely.

"'Indeed I don't,

For I'm quite in the dark.

' "'Now,

Esther,

' interposed Mrs.

Hargrave,

Who,

If equally benighted on the subject of our estrangement,

Saw at least that her daughter was behaving very improperly,

"'I must insist upon your leaving the room.

' "'Pray don't,

Mrs.

Hargrave,

' said I.

"'I'm going to leave it myself.

' And immediately I made my adieu.

About a week after,

Mr.

Hargrave brought his sister to see me.

He conducted himself at first with his usual cold,

Distant,

Half stately,

Half melancholy,

Altogether injured air,

But Esther made no remark upon it this time.

She had evidently been schooled into better manners.

She talked to me and laughed and romped with little Arthur,

Her loved and loving playmate.

He,

Somewhat to my discomfort,

Enticed her from the room to have a run in the hall,

And thence into the garden.

I got up to stir the fire.

Mr.

Hargrave asked if I felt cold and shut the door,

A very unseasonable piece of officiousness,

For I had meditated following the noisy playfellows,

If they did not speedily return.

He then took the liberty of walking up to the fire himself,

And asking me if I were aware that Mr.

Huntington was now at the seat of Lord Loberer,

And likely to continue there some time.

No,

But it is no matter,

I answered carelessly,

And if my cheek glowed like fire,

It was rather at the question than the information it conveyed.

You don't object to it,

He said.

Not at all,

If Lord Loberer likes his company.

You have no love left for him then,

Not the least.

I knew that,

I knew you were too high-minded and pure in your own nature to continue to guard one so utterly fulsome and polluted,

With any feelings but those of indignation and scornful abhorrence.

Is he not your friend,

Said I,

Turning my eyes from the fire to his face,

With perhaps a slight touch of those feelings he assigned to another.

He was,

Replied he,

With the same calm gravity as before,

But do not wrong me by supposing that I could continue my friendship and esteem to a man who could so infamously,

So impiously forsake and injure one so transcendentally.

Well,

I won't speak of it,

But tell me,

Do you ever think of revenge?

Revenge?

No,

What good would that do?

It would make him no better,

And me no happier.

I don't know how to talk to you,

Mrs Huntingdon,

Said he,

Smiling.

You are only half a woman.

Your nature must be half human and half angelic.

Such goodness overawes me,

I do not know what to make of it.

Then,

Sir,

I fear you must be very much worse than you should be,

If I,

A mere ordinary mortal,

Am by your own confession so vastly your superior.

And since there exists so little sympathy between us,

I think we'd better each look out for some more congenial companion.

And forthwith,

Moving towards the window,

I began to look out for my little son,

And his gay young friend.

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Just keep waiting for the break point… it’s got to be coming!
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