The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
friends. I then gave her his address, exhorted her to write frequently,
reiterated some of my former admonitions regarding her own concerns,
and bade her a fond farewell.
The second was to Milicent; much to the same effect, but a little more
confidential, as befitted our longer intimacy, and her greater
experience and better acquaintance with my circumstances.
The third was to my aunt: a much more difficult and painful
undertaking, and therefore I had left it to the last; but I must give
her some explanation of that extraordinary step I had taken: and that
quickly, for she and my uncle would no doubt hear of it within a day or
two after my disappearance, as it was probable that Mr. Huntingdon
would speedily apply to them to know what was become of me. At last,
however, I told her I was sensible of my error: I did not complain of
its punishment, and I was sorry to trouble my friends with its
consequences; but in duty to my son I must submit no longer; it was
absolutely necessary that he should be delivered from his father’s
corrupting influence. I should not disclose my place of refuge even to
her, in order that she and my uncle might be able, with truth, to deny
all knowledge concerning it; but any communications addressed to me
under cover to my brother would be certain to reach me. I hoped she and
my uncle would pardon the step I had taken, for if they knew all, I was
sure they would not blame me; and I trusted they would not afflict
themselves on my account, for if I could only reach my retreat in
safety and keep it unmolested, I should be very happy, but for the
thoughts of them; and should be quite contented to spend my life in
obscurity, devoting myself to the training up of my child, and teaching
him to avoid the errors of both his parents.
These things were done yesterday: I have given two whole days to the
preparation for our departure, that Frederick may have more time to
prepare the rooms, and Rachel to pack up the things: for the latter
task must be done with the utmost caution and secrecy, and there is no
one but me to assist her. I can help to get the articles together, but
I do not understand the art of stowing them into the boxes, so as to
take up the smallest possible space; and there are her own things to
do, as well as mine and Arthur’s. I can ill afford to leave anything
behind, since I have no money, except a few guineas in my purse; and
besides, as Rachel observed, whatever I left would most likely become
the property of Miss Myers, and I should not relish that.
But what trouble I have had throughout these two days, struggling to
appear calm and collected, to meet him and her as usual, when I was
obliged to meet them, and forcing myself to leave my little Arthur in
her hands for hours together! But I trust these trials are over now: I
have laid him in my bed for better security, and never more, I trust,
shall his innocent lips be defiled by their contaminating kisses, or
his young ears polluted by their words. But shall we escape in safety?
Oh, that the morning were come, and we were on our way at least! This
evening, when I had given Rachel all the assistance I could, and had
nothing left me but to wait, and wish and tremble, I became so greatly
agitated that I knew not what to do. I went down to dinner, but I could
not force myself to eat. Mr. Huntingdon remarked the circumstance.
“What’s to do with you _now?_” said he, when the removal of the second
course gave him time to look about him.
“I am not well,” I replied: “I think I must lie down a little; you
won’t miss me much?”
“Not the least: if you leave your chair, it’ll do just as well—better,
a trifle,” he muttered, as I left the room, “for I can fancy somebody
else fills it.”
“Somebody else _may_ fill it to-morrow,” I thought, but did not say.
“There! I’ve seen the last of _you_, I hope,” I muttered, as I closed
the door upon him.
Rachel urged me to seek repose at once, to recruit my strength for
to-morrow’s journey, as we must be gone before the dawn; but in my
present state of nervous excitement that was entirely out of the
question. It was equally out of the question to sit, or wander about my
room, counting the hours and the minutes between me and the appointed
time of action, straining my ears and trembling at every sound, lest
someone should discover and betray us after all. I took up a book and
tried to read: my eyes wandered over the pages, but it was impossible
to bind my thoughts to their contents. Why not have recourse to the old
expedient, and add this last event to my chronicle? I opened its pages
once more, and wrote the above account—with difficulty, at first, but
gradually my mind became more calm and steady. Thus several hours have
passed away: the time is drawing near; and now my eyes feel heavy and
my frame exhausted. I will commend my cause to God, and then lie down
and gain an hour or two of sleep; and _then!_—
Little Arthur sleeps soundly. All the house is still: there can be no
one watching. The boxes were all corded by Benson, and quietly conveyed
down the back stairs after dusk, and sent away in a cart to the M——
coach-office. The name upon the cards was Mrs. Graham, which
appellation I mean henceforth to adopt. My mother’s maiden name was
Graham, and therefore I fancy I have some claim to it, and prefer it to
any other, except my own, which I dare not resume.
CHAPTER XLIV
October 24th.—Thank Heaven, I am free and safe at last. Early we rose,
swiftly and quietly dressed, slowly and stealthily descended to the
hall, where Benson stood ready with a light, to open the door and
fasten it after us. We were obliged to let one man into our secret on
account of the boxes, &c. All the servants were but too well acquainted
with their master’s conduct, and either Benson or John would have been
willing to serve me; but as the former was more staid and elderly, and
a crony of Rachel’s besides, I of course directed her to make choice of
him as her assistant and confidant on the occasion, as far as necessity
demanded, I only hope he may not be brought into trouble thereby, and
only wish I could reward him for the perilous service he was so ready
to undertake. I slipped two guineas into his hand, by way of
remembrance, as he stood in the doorway, holding the candle to light
our departure, with a tear in his honest grey eye, and a host of good
wishes depicted on his solemn countenance. Alas! I could offer no more:
I had barely sufficient remaining for the probable expenses of the
journey.
What trembling joy it was when the little wicket closed behind us, as
we issued from the park! Then, for one moment, I paused, to inhale one
draught of that cool, bracing air, and venture one look back upon the
house. All was dark and still: no light glimmered in the windows, no
wreath of smoke obscured the stars that sparkled above it in the frosty
sky. As I bade farewell for ever to that place, the scene of so much
guilt and misery, I felt glad that I had not left it before, for now
there was no doubt about the propriety of such a step—no shadow of
remorse for him I left behind. There was nothing to disturb my joy but
the fear of detection; and every step removed us further from the
chance of that.
We had left Grassdale many miles behind us before the round red sun
arose to welcome our deliverance; and if any inhabitant of its vicinity
had chanced to see us then, as we bowled along on the top of the coach,
I scarcely think they would have suspected our identity. As I intend to
be taken for a widow, I thought it advisable to enter my new abode in
mourning: I was, therefore, attired in a plain black silk dress and
mantle, a black veil (which I kept carefully over my face for the first
twenty or thirty miles of the journey), and a black silk bonnet, which
I had been constrained to borrow of Rachel, for want of such an article
myself. It was not in the newest fashion, of course; but none the worse
for that, under present circumstances. Arthur was clad in his plainest
clothes, and wrapped in a coarse woollen shawl; and Rachel was muffled
in a grey cloak and hood that had seen better days, and gave her more
the appearance of an ordinary though decent old woman, than of a
lady’s-maid.
Oh, what delight it was to be thus seated aloft, rumbling along the
broad, sunshiny road, with the fresh morning breeze in my face,
surrounded by an unknown country, all smiling—cheerfully, gloriously
smiling in the yellow lustre of those early beams; with my darling
child in my arms, almost as happy as myself, and my faithful friend
beside me: a prison and despair behind me, receding further, further
back at every clatter of the horses’ feet; and liberty and hope before!
I could hardly refrain from praising God aloud for my deliverance, or
astonishing my fellow-passengers by some surprising outburst of
hilarity.
But the journey was a very long one, and we were all weary enough
before the close of it. It was far into the night when we reached the
town of L——, and still we were seven miles from our journey’s end; and
there was no more coaching, nor any conveyance to be had, except a
common cart, and that with the greatest difficulty, for half the town
was in bed. And a dreary ride we had of it, that last stage of the
journey, cold and weary as we were; sitting on our boxes, with nothing
to cling to, nothing to lean against, slowly dragged and cruelly shaken
over the rough, hilly roads. But Arthur was asleep in Rachel’s lap, and
between us we managed pretty well to shield him from the cold night
air.
At last we began to ascend a terribly steep and stony lane, which, in
spite of the darkness, Rachel said she remembered well: she had often
walked there with me in her arms, and little thought to come again so
many years after, under such circumstances as the present. Arthur being
now awakened by the jolting and the stoppages, we all got out and
walked. We had not far to go; but what if Frederick should not have
received my letter? or if he should not have had time to prepare the
rooms for our reception, and we should find them all dark, damp, and
comfortless, destitute of food, fire, and furniture, after all our
toil?
At length the grim, dark pile appeared before us. The lane conducted us
round by the back way. We entered the desolate court, and in breathless
anxiety surveyed the ruinous mass. Was it all blackness and desolation?
No; one faint red glimmer cheered us from a window where the lattice
was in good repair. The door was fastened, but after due knocking and
waiting, and some parleying with a voice from an upper window, we were
admitted by an old woman who had been commissioned to air and keep the
house till our arrival, into a tolerably snug little apartment,
formerly the scullery of the mansion, which Frederick had now fitted up
as a kitchen. Here she procured us a light, roused the fire to a
cheerful blaze, and soon prepared a simple repast for our refreshment;
while we disencumbered ourselves of our travelling-gear, and took a
hasty survey of our new abode. Besides the kitchen, there were two
bedrooms, a good-sized parlour, and another smaller one, which I
destined for my studio, all well aired and seemingly in good repair,
but only partly furnished with a few old articles, chiefly of ponderous
black oak, the veritable ones that had been there before, and which had
been kept as antiquarian relics in my brother’s present residence, and
now, in all haste, transported back again.
The old woman brought my supper and Arthur’s into the parlour, and told
me, with all due formality, that “the master desired his compliments to
Mrs. Graham, and he had prepared the rooms as well as he could upon so
short a notice; but he would do himself the pleasure of calling upon