Read Online The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Penguin Classics) by Anne Brontë - Free Book Online

seemed not incapable of reflection, – though she did not know where she had been all her life, poor thing, for she betrayed a lamentable ignorance on certain points, and had not even the sense to be ashamed of it.
    ‘On what points, mother?’ asked I.
    ‘On household matters, and all the little niceties of cookery, and such things, that every lady ought to be familiar with, 5 whether she be required to make a practical use of her knowledge or not. I gave her some useful pieces of information, however, and several excellentreceipts, the value of which she evidently could not appreciate, for she begged I would not trouble myself, as she lived in such a plain, quiet way, that she was sure she should never make use of them. “No matter, my dear,” said I; “it is what every respectable female ought to know; – and besides, though you are alone now, you will not be always so; you
have
been married, and probably – I might say almost certainly – will be again.” “You are mistaken there ma’am,” said she, almost haughtily; “I am certain I never shall.” – But I told her
I
knew better.’
    ‘Some romantic young widow, I suppose,’ said I, ‘come there to end her days in solitude, and mourn in secret for the dear departed – but it won’t last long.’
    ‘No, I think not,’ observed Rose; ‘for she didn’t seem
very
disconsolate after all; and she’s excessively pretty – handsome rather – you must see her Gilbert; you will call her a perfect beauty, though you could hardly pretend to discover a resemblance between her and Eliza Millward.’
    ‘Well, I can imagine many faces more beautiful than Eliza’s, though not more charming. I allow she has small claims to perfection; but then, I maintain that, if she were more perfect, she would be less interesting.’
    ‘And so you prefer her faults to other people’s perfections?’
    ‘Just so – saving my mother’s presence.’
    ‘Oh, my dear Gilbert, what nonsense you talk! – I know you don’t mean it; it’s quite out of the question,’ said my mother, getting up, and bustling out of the room, under pretence of household business, in order to escape the contradiction that was trembling on my tongue.
    After that, Rose favoured me with further particulars respecting Mrs Graham. Her appearance, manners, and dress, and the very furniture of the room she inhabited, were all set before me, with rather more clearness and precision than I cared to see them; but, as I was not a very attentive listener, I could not repeat the description if I would.
    The next day was Saturday; and, on Sunday, everybody wondered whether or not the fair unknown would profit by the vicar’s remonstrance,and come to church. I confess, I looked with some interest myself towards the old family pew, appertaining to Wildfell Hall, where the faded crimson cushions and lining had been unpressed and unrenewed so many years, and the grim escutcheons, 6 with their lugubrious borders of rusty black cloth, frowned so sternly from the wall above.
    And there I beheld a tall, ladylike figure, clad in black. Her face was towards me, and there was something in it, which, once seen, invited me to look again. Her hair was raven black, and disposed in long glossy ringlets, a style of coiffure rather unusual in those days, but always graceful and becoming; her complexion was clear and pale; her eyes I could not see, for being bent upon her prayer-book they were concealed by their drooping lids and long black lashes, but the brows above were expressive and well defined, the forehead was lofty and intellectual, the nose, a perfect aquiline, and the features in general, unexceptionable – only there was a slight hollowness about the cheeks and eyes, and the lips, though finely formed, were a little too thin, a little too firmly compressed, and had something about them that betokened, I thought, no very soft or amiable temper; and I said in my heart –
    ‘I would rather admire you from this