October 10th. - Mr. Huntingdon
returned about three weeks ago.
His appearance, his demeanour
and conversation, and my feelings
with regard to him, I shall not
trouble myself to describe. The
day after his arrival, however,
he surprised me by the announcement
of an intention to procure a
governess for little Arthur:
I told him it was quite unnecessary,
not to say ridiculous, at the
present season: I thought I was
fully competent to the task of
teaching him myself - for some
years to come, at least: the
child's education was the only
pleasure and business of my life;
and since he had deprived me
of every other occupation, he
might surely leave
me that.
He said I was not fit to teach
children, or to be with them:
I had already reduced the boy
to little better than an automaton;
I had broken his fine spirit
with my rigid severity; and I
should freeze all the sunshine
out of his heart, and make him
as gloomy an ascetic as myself,
if I had the handling of him
much longer. And poor Rachel,
too, came in for her share of
abuse, as usual; he cannot endure
Rachel, because he knows she
has a proper appreciation of
him.
I calmly defended our several
qualifications as nurse and governess,
and still resisted the proposed
addition to our family; but he
cut me short by saying it was
no use bothering about the matter,
for he had engaged a governess
already, and she was coming next
week; so that all I had to do
was to get things ready for her
reception. This was a rather
startling piece of intelligence.
I ventured to inquire her name
and address, by whom she had
been recommended, or how he had
been led to make choice of her.
'She is a very estimable, pious
young person,' said he; 'you
needn't be afraid. Her name is
Myers, I believe; and she was
recommended to me by a respectable
old dowager: a lady of high repute
in the religious world. I have
not seen her myself, and therefore
cannot give you a particular
account of her person and conversation,
and so forth; but, if the old
lady's eulogies are correct,
you will find her to possess
all desirable qualifications
for her position: an inordinate
love of children among the rest.'
All this was gravely and quietly
spoken, but there was a laughing
demon in his half-averted eye
that boded no good, I imagined.
However, I thought of my asylum
in -shire, and made no further
objections.
When Miss Myers arrived, I
was not prepared to give her
a very cordial reception. Her
appearance was not particularly
calculated to produce a favourable
impression at first sight, nor
did her manners and subsequent
conduct, in any degree, remove
the prejudice I had already conceived
against her. Her attainments
were limited, her intellect noways
above mediocrity. She had a fine
voice, and could sing like a
nightingale, and accompany herself
sufficiently well on the piano;
but these were her only accomplishments.
There was a look of guile and
subtlety in her face, a sound
of it in her voice. She seemed
afraid of me, and would start
if I suddenly approached her.
In her behaviour she was respectful
and complaisant, even to servility:
she attempted to flatter and
fawn upon me at first, but I
soon checked that. Her fondness
for her little pupil was overstrained,
and I was obliged to remonstrate
with her on the subject of over-indulgence
and injudicious praise; but she
could not gain his heart. Her
piety consisted in an occasional
heaving of sighs, and uplifting
of eyes to the ceiling, and the
utterance of a few cant phrases.
She told me she was a clergyman's
daughter, and had been left an
orphan from her childhood, but
had had the good fortune to obtain
a situation in a very pious family;
and then she spoke so gratefully
of the kindness she had experienced
from its different members, that
I reproached myself for my uncharitable
thoughts and unfriendly conduct,
and relented for a time, but
not for long: my causes of dislike
were too rational, my suspicions
too well founded for that; and
I knew it was my duty to watch
and scrutinize till those suspicions
were either satisfactorily removed
or confirmed.
I asked the name and residence
of the kind and pious family.
She mentioned a common name,
and an unknown and distant place
of abode, but told me they were
now on the Continent, and their
present address was unknown to
her. I never saw her speak much
to Mr. Huntingdon; but he would
frequently look into the school-room
to see how little Arthur got
on with his new companion, when
I was not there. In the evening,
she sat with us in the drawing-room,
and would sing and play to amuse
him or us, as she pretended,
and was very attentive to his
wants, and watchful to anticipate
them, though she only talked
to me; indeed, he was seldom
in a condition to be talked to.
Had she been other than she was,
I should have felt her presence
a great relief to come between
us thus, except, indeed, that
I should have been thoroughly
ashamed for any decent person
to see him as he often was.
I did not mention my suspicions
to Rachel; but she, having sojourned
for half a century in this land
of sin and sorrow, has learned
to be suspicious herself. She
told me from the first she was
'down of that new governess,'
and I soon found she watched
her quite as narrowly as I did;
and I was glad of it, for I longed
to know the truth: the atmosphere
of Grassdale seemed to stifle
me, and I could only live by
thinking of Wildfell Hall.
At last, one morning, she entered
my chamber with such intelligence
that my resolution was taken
before she had ceased to speak.
While she dressed me I explained
to her my intentions and what
assistance I should require from
her, and told her which of my
things she was to pack up, and
what she was to leave behind
for herself, as I had no other
means of recompensing her for
this sudden dismissal after her
long and faithful service: a
circumstance I most deeply regretted,
but could not avoid.
'And what will you do, Rachel?'
said I; 'will you go home, or
seek another place?'
'I have no home, ma'am, but
with you,' she replied; 'and
if I leave you I'll never go
into place again as long as I
live.'
'But I can't afford to live
like a lady now,' returned I:
'I must be my own maid and my
child's nurse.'
'What signifies!' replied she,
in some excitement. 'You'll want
somebody to clean and wash, and
cook, won't you? I can do all
that; and never mind the wages:
I've my bits o' savings yet,
and if you wouldn't take me I
should have to find my own board
and lodging out of 'em somewhere,
or else work among strangers:
and it's what I'm not used to:
so you can please yourself, ma'am.'
Her voice quavered as she spoke,
and the tears stood in her eyes.
'I should like it above all
things, Rachel, and I'd give
you such wages as I could afford:
such as I should give to any
servant-of- all-work I might
employ: but don't you see I should
be dragging you down with me
when you have done nothing to
deserve it?'
'Oh, fiddle!' ejaculated she.
'And, besides, my future way
of living will be so widely different
to the past: so different to
all you have been accustomed
to - '
'Do you think, ma'am, I can't
bear what my missis can? surely
I'm not so proud and so dainty
as that comes to; and my little
master, too, God bless him!'
'But I'm young, Rachel; I sha'n't
mind it; and Arthur is young
too: it will be nothing to him.'
'Nor me either: I'm not so
old but what I can stand hard
fare and hard work, if it's only
to help and comfort them as I've
loved like my own bairns: for
all I'm too old to bide the thoughts
o' leaving 'em in trouble and
danger, and going amongst strangers
myself.'
'Then you sha'n't, Rachel!'
cried I, embracing my faithful
friend. 'We'll all go together,
and you shall see how the new
life suits you.'
'Bless you, honey!' cried she,
affectionately returning my embrace.
'Only let us get shut of this
wicked house, and we'll do right
enough, you'll see.'
'So think I,' was my answer;
and so that point was settled.
By that morning's post I despatched
a few hasty lines to Frederick,
beseeching him to prepare my
asylum for my immediate reception:
for I should probably come to
claim it within a day after the
receipt of that note: and telling
him, in few words, the cause
of my sudden resolution. I then
wrote three letters of adieu:
the first to Esther Hargrave,
in which I told her that I found
it impossible to stay any longer
at Grassdale, or to leave my
son under his father's protection;
and, as it was of the last importance
that our future abode should
be unknown to him and his acquaintance,
I should disclose it to no one
but my brother, through the medium
of whom I hoped still to correspond
with my 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.
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