The Mysterious Mother's Fear — The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Gilbert takes Halford on from that last October Sunday. On Tuesday he is out with his dog and gun, finds no game on Linden-Car land, and climbs Wildfell after hawks and crows. Near the top stands the Elizabethan hall, cold and gloomy, its garden abandoned to weeds and fantastic clipped shapes that look like goblins to a man raised on nurse tales of a haunted house. One repaired wing shows new glass and a thin wreath of smoke. He will not stare in at the gate. He pauses by the wall, and a tiny hand appears on the stone, then a small white forehead, light brown hair, and deep blue eyes that sparkle at his setter Sancho.

The boy, about five, scrambles to the top, calls the dog, and tries to climb over. A cherry branch catches his frock; his foot slips; he hangs screaming. Gilbert drops his gun and catches him. The child is just putting a hand on Sancho's neck when the iron gate clicks and Mrs Graham darts out, neck uncovered, black hair streaming. She snatches Arthur as if Gilbert's touch were contamination, then stammers an apology when she knows him from church and from Rose's call. Gilbert smiles. The proud church look returns. She says good-morning and withdraws without another glance.

He goes home angry without knowing why, puts away the gun, and walks to the vicarage to recover. Eliza is at her embroidery; Mary sits with the cat and a heap of stockings. Eliza teases; Mary corrects. Gilbert squeezes Eliza's hand at parting and walks home brimful of love for her, the sting from Mrs Graham already fading into self-satisfaction.