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 her to-morrow, to receive her further
commands.'
I was glad to ascend the stern-looking stone staircase, and lie
down in the gloomy, old-fashioned bed, beside my little Arthur. He
was asleep in a minute; but, weary as I was, my excited feelings
and restless cogitations kept me awake till dawn began to struggle
with the darkness; but sleep was sweet and refreshing when it came,
and the waking was delightful beyond expression. It was little
Arthur that roused me, with his gentle kisses. He was here, then,
safely clasped in my arms, and many leagues away from his unworthy
father! Broad daylight illumined the apartment, for the sun was
high in heaven, though obscured by rolling masses of autumnal
vapour.
The scene, indeed, was not remarkably cheerful in itself, either
within or without. The large bare room, with its grim old
furniture, the narrow, latticed windows, revealing the dull, grey
sky above and the desolate wilderness below, where the dark stone
walls and iron gate, the rank growth of grass and weeds, and the
hardy evergreens of preternatural forms, alone remained to tell
that there had been once a garden, - and the bleak and barren
fields beyond might have struck me as gloomy enough at another
time; but now, each separate object seemed to echo back my own
exhilarating sense of hope and freedom: indefinite dreams of the
far past and bright anticipations of the future seemed to greet me
at every turn. I should rejoice with more security, to be sure,
had the broad sea rolled between my present and my former homes;
but surely in this lonely spot I might remain unknown; and then I
had my brother here to cheer my solitude with his occasional
visits.
He came that morning; and I have had several interviews with him
since; but he is obliged to be very cautious when and how he comes;
not even his servants or his best friends must know of his visits
to Wildfell - except on such occasions as a landlord might be
expected to call upon a stranger tenant - lest suspicion should be
excited against me, whether of the truth or of some slanderous
falsehood.
I have now been here nearly a fortnight, and, but for one
disturbing care, the haunting dread of discovery, I am comfortably
settled in my new home: Frederick has supplied me with all
requisite furniture and painting materials: Rachel has sold most
of my clothes for me, in a distant town, and procured me a wardrobe
more suitable to my present position: I have a second-hand piano,
and a tolerably well-stocked bookcase in my parlour; and my other
room has assumed quite a professional, business-like appearance
already. I am working hard to repay my brother for all his
expenses on my account; not that there is the slightest necessity
for anything of the kind, but it pleases me to do so: I shall have
so much more pleasure in my labour, my earnings, my frugal fare,
and household economy, when I know that I am paying my way
honestly, and that what little I possess is legitimately all my
own; and that no one suffers for my folly - in a pecuniary way at
least. I shall make him take the last penny I owe him, if I can
possibly effect it without offending him too deeply. I have a few
pictures already done, for I told Rachel to pack up all I had; and
she executed her commission but too well - for among the rest, she
put up a portrait of Mr. Huntingdon that I had painted in the first
year of my marriage. It struck me with dismay, at the moment, when
I took it from the box and beheld those eyes fixed upon me in their
mocking mirth, as if exulting still in his power to control my
fate, and deriding my efforts to escape.
How widely different had been my feelings in painting that portrait
to what they now were in looking upon it! How I had studied and
toiled to produce something, as I thought, worthy of the original!
what mingled pleasure and dissatisfaction I had had in the result
of my labours! - pleasure for the likeness I had caught;
dissatisfaction, because I had not made it handsome enough. Now, I
see no beauty in it - nothing pleasing in any part of its
expression; and yet it is far handsomer and far more agreeable -
far less repulsive I should rather say - than he is now: for these
six years have wrought almost as great a change upon himself as on
my feelings regarding him. The frame, however, is handsome enough;
it will serve for another painting. The picture itself I have not
destroyed, as I had first intended; I have put it aside; not, I
think, from any lurking tenderness for the memory of past
affection, nor yet to remind me of my former folly, but chiefly
that I may compare my son's features and countenance with this, as
he grows up, and thus be enabled to judge how much or how little he
resembles his father - if I may be allowed to keep him with me
still, and never to behold that father's face again - a blessing I
hardly dare reckon upon.
It seems Mr. Huntingdon is making every exertion to discover the
place of my retreat. He has been in person to Staningley, seeking
redress for his grievances - expecting to hear of his victims, if
not to find them there - and has told so many lies, and with such
unblushing coolness, that my uncle more than half believes him, and
strongly advocates my going back to him and being friends again.
But my aunt knows better: she is too cool and cautious, and too
well acquainted with both my husband's character and my own to be
imposed upon by any specious falsehoods the former could invent.
But he does not want me back; he wants my child; and gives my
friends to understand that if I prefer living apart from him, he
will indulge the whim and let me do so unmolested, and even settle
a reasonable allowance on me, provided I will immediately deliver
up his son. But heaven help me! I am not going to sell my child
for gold, though it were to save both him and me from starving: it
would be better that he should die with me than that he should live
with his father.
Frederick showed me a letter he had received from that gentleman,
full of cool impudence such as would astonish any one who did not
know him, but such as, I am convinced, none would know better how
to answer than my brother. He gave me no account of his reply,
except to tell me that he had not acknowledged his acquaintance
with my place of refuge, but rather left it to be inferred that it
was quite unknown to him, by saying it was useless to apply to him,
or any other of my relations, for information on the subject, as it
appeared I had been driven to such extremity that I had concealed
my retreat even from my best friends; but that if he had known it,
or should at any time be made aware of it, most certainly Mr.
Huntingdon would be the last person to whom he should communicate
the intelligence; and that he need not trouble himself to bargain
for the child, for he (Frederick) fancied he knew enough of his
sister to enable him to declare, that wherever she might be, or
however situated, no consideration would induce her to deliver him
up.
30th. - Alas! my kind neighbours will not let me alone. By some
means they have ferreted me out, and I have had to sustain visits
from three different families, all more or less bent upon
discovering who and what I am, whence I came, and why I have chosen
such a home as this. Their society is unnecessary to me, to say
the least, and their curiosity annoys and alarms me: if I gratify
it, it may lead to the ruin of my son, and if I am too mysterious
it will only excite their suspicions, invite conjecture, and rouse
them to greater exertions - and perhaps be the means of spreading
my fame from parish to parish, till it reach the ears of some one
who will carry it to the Lord of Grassdale Manor.
I shall be expected to return their calls, but if, upon inquiry, I
find that any of them live too far away for Arthur to accompany me,
they must expect in vain for a while, for I cannot bear to leave
him, unless it be to go to church, and I have not attempted that
yet: for - it may be foolish weakness, but I am under such
constant dread of his being snatched away, that I am never easy
when he is not by my side; and I fear these nervous terrors would
so entirely disturb my devotions, that I should obtain no benefit
from the attendance. I mean, however, to make the experiment next
Sunday, and oblige myself to leave him in charge of Rachel for a
few hours. It will be a hard task, but surely no imprudence; and
the vicar has been to scold me for my neglect of the ordinances of
religion. I had no sufficient excuse to offer, and I promised, if
all were well, he should see me in my pew next Sunday; for I do not
wish to be set down as an infidel; and, besides, I know I should
derive great comfort and benefit from an occasional attendance at
public worship, if I could only have faith and fortitude to compose
my thoughts in conformity with the solemn occasion, and forbid them
to be for ever dwelling on my absent child, and on the dreadful
possibility of finding him gone when I return; and surely God in
His mercy will preserve me from so severe a trial: for my child's
own sake, if not for mine, He will not suffer him to be torn away.
November 3rd. - I have made some further acquaintance with my
neighbours. The fine gentleman and beau of the parish and its
vicinity (in his own estimation, at least) is a young . . . .
* * * * *
Here it ended. The rest was torn away. How cruel, just when she
was going to mention me! for I could not doubt it was your humble
servant she was about to mention, though not very favourably, of
course. I could tell that, as well by those few words as by the
recollection of her whole aspect and demeanour towards me in the
commencement of our acquaintance. Well! I could readily forgive
her prejudice against me, and her hard thoughts of our sex in
general, when I saw to what brilliant specimens her experience had
been limited.
Respecting me, however, she had long since seen her error, and
perhaps fallen into another in the opposite extreme: for if, at
first, her opinion of me had been lower than I deserved, I was
convinced that now my deserts were lower than her opinion; and if
the former part of this continuation had been torn away to avoid
wounding my feelings, perhaps the latter portion had been removed
for fear of ministering too much to my self-conceit. At any rate,
I would have given much to have seen it all - to have witnessed the
gradual change, and watched the progress of her esteem and
friendship for me, and whatever warmer feeling she might have; to
have seen how much of love there was in her regard, and how it had
grown upon her in spite of her virtuous resolutions and strenuous
exertions to - but no, I had no right to see it: all this was too
sacred for any eyes but her own, and she had done well to keep it
from me.
