LITMIR.BIZ

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was the portrait of a gentleman – handsome enough. It was evidently some years before. I surveyed it with considerable interest. Soon the fair artist returned.

      “Someone was asking about the pictures,” said she, in apology for her departure: “I told him to wait.”

      “I fear it will be considered an act of impertinence,” I said, “to look at a picture that the artist has turned to the wall; but may I ask – ”

      “It is an act of very great impertinence, sir; and therefore I beg you will ask nothing about it,” replied she.

      She was seriously annoyed. Then she took the picture from me; and quickly restored it to the dark corner, with its face to the wall, and then turned to me and laughed.

      I carelessly turned to the window. Then I told my sister it was time to go, shook hands with the little gentleman, coolly bowed to the lady, and moved towards the door. Mrs. Graham smiled, – “Mr. Markham, I'm sorry I offended you by my abruptness.”

      When a lady apologizes, I can't be angry, of course. We parted good friends for once. This time I squeezed her hand with a cordial pressure.

      Chapter VI

      During the next four months I did not enter Mrs. Graham's house; but still the ladies continued to talk about her. And still our acquaintance continued, though slowly, to advance. Sometimes I saw her myself, not only when she came to church, but when she was out on the hills with her son. I liked to see Mrs. Graham, and to talk to her. I decidedly liked to talk to her little companion, who was a very amiable and intelligent little fellow. We soon became excellent friends. What pleased her best of all was to see him with Sancho, while I walked by her side – not for love of my company (though I sometimes deluded myself with that idea). Those active sports were invigorating to her son, that's all.

      One bright February morning, during twenty minutes' stroll along the moor, she was discoursing with so much eloquence and depth of thought, that I went home enchanted. And I thought it was, perhaps, better to spend one's days with such a woman than with Eliza Millward. Then I (figuratively) blushed for my inconstancy.

      “However,” thought I, “I cannot marry Eliza, since my mother so strongly objects to it. So I must not delude the girl with the idea that I intended to do so. Mrs. Graham can be equally objectionable. But I shall not fall seriously in love with the young widow, I think, nor she with me – that's certain.”

      One calm, clear afternoon, in March, I saw Mrs. Graham down by the brook, with a sketch-book in her hand. She was absorbed in her favourite art, while Arthur was constructing dams and breakwaters in the shallow, stony stream.

      “Do you not find it a desolate place to live in?” said I, after a moment of silent contemplation.

      “I do, sometimes,” replied she. “On winter evenings, when Arthur is in bed, and I am sitting there alone. But it is folly to give way to such weakness, I know. Rachel is satisfied with such a life. Indeed, I must be thankful for such an asylum.”

      Then bid me good-evening and withdrew.

      Soon perceived Mr. Lawrence, on his pretty grey pony. I went a little out of my way to speak to him.

      “Was that Mrs. Graham you were speaking to just now?” said he.

      “Yes.”

      “Humph! I thought so.”

      “Well! What then?”

      “Oh, nothing!” replied he. “Only I thought you disliked her.”

      “Suppose I did. Can't a man change his mind?”

      “Yes, of course,” returned he. “Then you have changed your mind?”

      “I can't say that I have exactly. No; I think I hold the same opinion – but slightly ameliorated.”

      “Oh!” He glanced up at the moon.

      “Lawrence,” said I calmly, “are you in love with Mrs. Graham?”

      He laughed.

      “I am in love with her!” repeated he. “Why do you think so?”

      “From the interest you take in the progress of my acquaintance with the lady, and the changes of my opinion concerning her, I thought you were jealous.”

      He laughed again.

      “Jealous! no. But I thought you were going to marry Eliza Millward.”

      “You thought wrong, then; I am not going to marry either one or the other.”

      Chapter VII

      Not many days after this, on a mild sunny morning, I was out on the hill-side. I beheld three persons below. They were Eliza Millward, Fergus, and Rose; so I crossed the field to meet them. They told me that they were going to Wildfell Hall. I joined them, and offered my arm to Eliza, who readily accepted it.

      So we went all. The meagre old maid-servant, that opened the door, ushered us into a tolerably spacious and lofty room.

      The lady was seated in a stiff, high-backed arm-chair, with a small round table, containing a desk and a work-basket on one side of her, and her little boy on the other. The boy was leaning his elbow on her knee, and reading to her, with wonderful fluency, from a small volume that lay in her lap.

      I do not think Mrs. Graham was particularly delighted to see us. There was something indescribably chilly in her quiet, calm civility; but I did not talk much to her. I called Arthur to me, and he and I and Sancho amused ourselves very pleasantly together. Fergus was interrupting the conversation, or filling up a pause with some impertinent question or remark. At one time it was,

      “It, amazes me, Mrs. Graham, how you can choose such a dilapidated, rickety old place as this to live in. If you can't afford to occupy the whole house, why can't you take a neat little cottage?”

      “Perhaps this romantic, old-fashioned place, Mr. Fergus,” replied she, “has many advantages over a cottage. You see, the rooms are larger and more airy. The unoccupied apartments, which I don't pay for, may serve as lumber-rooms. They are very useful for my little boy to run about in on rainy days when he can't go out. Then there is the garden for him to play in, and for me to work in.”

      “But then how can you bear such a situation – your nearest neighbours two miles distant, and nobody passes by? Rose will go mad in such a place.”

      “The loneliness of the place was one of its chief recommendations. I like to be quiet.”

      “Oh! Do you want to tell us to leave you alone?”

      “No, I dislike an extensive acquaintance; but if I have a few friends, of course I am glad to see them occasionally. No one can be happy in eternal solitude. Therefore, Mr. Fergus, if you choose to enter my house as a friend, I will make you welcome. If not, I will keep you away.”

      “And, Mrs. Graham,” said he again, five minutes after, “we were disputing something. Well, the question, or questions for you to answer – ”

      “Hold your tongue, Fergus!” cried Rose.

      “I won't! The questions are these: first, concerning your birth, extraction, and previous residence. Some people say that you are a foreigner, and some an Englishwoman; some a native of the north country, and some of the south; some say – ”

      “Well, Mr. Fergus, I'll tell you. I'm an Englishwoman. I was born in the country, neither in the extreme north nor south of our happy isle. In the country I have passed my life, and now I hope you are satisfied.”

      “Except this – ”

      “No, not one more!” laughed she, and, to escape my brother's persecutions, drew me into conversation.

      “Mr. Markham,” said she, “have you forgotten the fine sea-view we were speaking of some time ago? I think I must trouble you, now, to tell me the nearest way to it. I shall, perhaps, be able to walk there, and take my sketch. I want to see it.”

      “Oh, don't tell her, Gilbert!” cried Rose; “she will go with us. I suppose, Mrs. Graham, it is a very long walk, too

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