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Эмили Бронте

Незнакомка из Уайлдфелл-Холла. Уровень 2 / The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Chapter I

You must go back with me to the autumn of 1827. My father, as you know, was a farmer. I, by his desire, not very willingly, was burying my talent in the earth. My mother persuaded me that I was capable of great achievements; but my father assured me it was all rubbish, and exhorted me to follow his steps.

“Well! An honest and industrious farmer is one of the most useful members of society,” I consoled myself one cold, damp, cloudy evening. I was young then, remember – only four-and-twenty.

I ascended to my room. I met a smart, pretty girl of nineteen, with a tidy, dumpy figure, a round face, bright cheeks, glossy curls, and little merry brown eyes. This was my sister Rose. My mother was sitting in her arm-chair at the fireside and knitting, according to her usual custom, when she had nothing else to do. The servant brought in the tea-tray.

“I'll tell you what I was doing,” said Rose. “You know that somebody was going to take Wildfell

Hall – and – what do you think? It was inhabited a week! – and we never knew!”

“Impossible!” cried my mother.

“Preposterous!” shrieked my brother Fergus.

“It has indeed! – and by a single lady!”

“Good gracious, my dear! The place is in ruins!”

“But there she lives, all alone – except an old woman for a servant!”

“Oh, dear! That spoils it – I hoped she was a witch,” observed Fergus.

“Nonsense,

Fergus! But isn't it strange, mamma?”

“Strange! I can hardly believe it. ”

“Of course, my dear. How lonely she must feel!”

The next day my mother and Rose visited the fair recluse. Mrs. Graham betrayed a lamentable ignorance on certain points, they said.

“On what points, mother?” asked I.

“On household matters and cookery. I gave her some useful pieces of information, however, and several excellent receipts. But she begged not to trouble her, as she lived in such a plain, quiet way, that she was sure she did not need them. 'No matter, my dear,' said I; 'it is what every respectable female ought to know. Though you are alone now, you will not be always so. You were married, and probably 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. ”