I perceive, with joy, my most valued friend, that the cloud of yourdispleasure has passed away; the light of your countenance blessesme once more, and you desire the continuation of my story:therefore, without more ado, you shall have it.

I think the day I last mentioned was a certain Sunday, the latestin the October of 1827. On the following Tuesday I was out with mydog and gun, in pursuit of such game as I could find within theterritory of Linden-Car; but finding none at all, I turned my armsagainst the hawks and carrion crows, whose depredations, as Isuspected, had deprived me of better prey. To this end I left themore frequented regions, the wooded valleys, the corn-fields, andthe meadow-lands, and proceeded to mount the steep acclivity ofWildfell, the wildest and the loftiest eminence in ourneighbourhood, where, as you ascend, the hedges, as well as thetrees, become scanty and stunted, the former, at length, givingplace to rough stone fences, partly greened over with ivy and moss,the latter to larches and Scotch fir-trees, or isolatedblackthorns. The fields, being rough and stony, and wholly unfitfor the plough, were mostly devoted to the posturing of sheep andcattle; the soil was thin and poor: bits of grey rock here andthere peeped out from the grassy hillocks; bilberry-plants andheather - relics of more savage wildness - grew under the walls;and in many of the enclosures, ragweeds and rushes usurpedsupremacy over the scanty herbage; but these were not my property.

Near the top of this hill, about two miles from Linden-Car, stoodWildfell Hall, a superannuated mansion of the Elizabethan era,built of dark grey stone, venerable and picturesque to look at, butdoubtless, cold and gloomy enough to inhabit, with its thick stonemullions and little latticed panes, its time-eaten air-holes, andits too lonely, too unsheltered situation, - only shielded from thewar of wind and weather by a group of Scotch firs, themselves halfblighted with storms, and looking as stern and gloomy as the Hallitself. Behind it lay a few desolate fields, and then the brownheath-clad summit of the hill; before it (enclosed by stone walls,and entered by an iron gate, with large balls of grey granite -similar to those which decorated the roof and gables - surmountingthe gate-posts) was a garden, - once stocked with such hard plantsand flowers as could best brook the soil and climate, and suchtrees and shrubs as could best endure the gardener's torturingshears, and most readily assume the shapes he chose to give them, -now, having been left so many years untilled and untrimmed,abandoned to the weeds and the grass, to the frost and the wind,the rain and the drought, it presented a very singular appearanceindeed. The close green walls of privet, that had bordered theprincipal walk, were two-thirds withered away, and the rest grownbeyond all reasonable bounds; the old boxwood swan, that sat besidethe scraper, had lost its neck and half its body: the castellatedtowers of laurel in the middle of the garden, the gigantic warriorthat stood on one side of the gateway, and the lion that guardedthe other, were sprouted into such fantastic shapes as resemblednothing either in heaven or earth, or in the waters under theearth; but, to my young imagination, they presented all of them agoblinish appearance, that harmonised well with the ghostly legionsand dark traditions our old nurse had told us respecting thehaunted hall and its departed occupants.

I had succeeded in killing a hawk and two crows when I came withinsight of the mansion; and then, relinquishing further depredations,I sauntered on, to have a look at the old place, and see whatchanges had been wrought in it by its new inhabitant. I did notlike to go quite to the front and stare in at the gate; but Ipaused beside the garden wall, and looked, and saw no change -except in one wing, where the broken windows and dilapidated roofhad evidently been repaired, and where a thin wreath of smoke wascurling up from the stack of chimneys.

While I thus stood, leaning on my gun, and looking up at the darkgables, sunk in an idle reverie, weaving a tissue of waywardfancies, in which old associations and the fair young hermit, nowwithin those walls, bore a nearly equal part, I heard a slightrustling and scrambling just within the garden; and, glancing inthe direction whence the sound proceeded, I beheld a tiny handelevated above the wall: it clung to the topmost stone, and thenanother little hand was raised to take a firmer hold, and thenappeared a small white forehead, surmounted with wreaths of lightbrown hair, with a pair of deep blue eyes beneath, and the upperportion of a diminutive ivory nose.

The eyes did not notice me, but sparkled with glee on beholdingSancho, my beautiful black and white setter, that was coursingabout the field with its muzzle to the ground. The little creatureraised its face and called aloud to the dog. The good-naturedanimal paused, looked up, and wagged his tail, but made no furtheradvances. The child (a little boy, apparently about five yearsold) scrambled up to the top of the wall, and called again andagain; but finding this of no avail, apparently made up his mind,like Mahomet, to go to the mountain, since the mountain would notcome to him, and attempted to get over; but a crabbed old cherry-tree, that grew hard by, caught him by the frock in one of itscrooked scraggy arms that stretched over the wall. In attemptingto disengage himself his foot slipped, and down he tumbled - butnot to the earth; - the tree still kept him suspended. There was asilent struggle, and then a piercing shriek; - but, in an instant,I had dropped my gun on the grass, and caught the little fellow inmy arms.

I wiped his eyes with his frock, told him he was all right andcalled Sancho to pacify him. He was just putting little hand onthe dog's neck and beginning to smile through his tears, when Iheard behind me a click of the iron gate, and a rustle of femalegarments, and lo! Mrs. Graham darted upon me - her neck uncovered,her black locks streaming in the wind.

'Give me the child!' she said, in a voice scarce louder than awhisper, but with a tone of startling vehemence, and, seizing theboy, she snatched him from me, as if some dire contamination werein my touch, and then stood with one hand firmly clasping his, theother on his shoulder, fixing upon me her large, luminous dark eyes- pale, breathless, quivering with agitation.

'I was not harming the child, madam,' said I, scarce knowingwhether to be most astonished or displeased; 'he was tumbling offthe wall there; and I was so fortunate as to catch him, while hehung suspended headlong from that tree, and prevent I know not whatcatastrophe.'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' stammered she; - suddenly calming down, -the light of reason seeming to break upon her beclouded spirit, anda faint blush mantling on her cheek - 'I did not know you; - and Ithought - '

She stooped to kiss the child, and fondly clasped her arm round hisneck.

'You thought I was going to kidnap your son, I suppose?'

She stroked his head with a half-embarrassed laugh, and replied, -'I did not know he had attempted to climb the wall. - I have thepleasure of addressing Mr. Markham, I believe?' she added, somewhatabruptly.

I bowed, but ventured to ask how she knew me.

'Your sister called here, a few days ago, with Mrs. Markham.'

'Is the resemblance so strong then?' I asked, in some surprise, andnot so greatly flattered at the idea as I ought to have been.

'There is a likeness about the eyes and complexion I think,'replied she, somewhat dubiously surveying my face; - 'and I think Isaw you at church on Sunday.'

I smiled. - There was something either in that smile or therecollections it awakened that was particularly displeasing to her,for she suddenly assumed again that proud, chilly look that had sounspeakably roused my aversion at church - a look of repellentscorn, so easily assumed, and so entirely without the leastdistortion of a single feature, that, while there, it seemed likethe natural expression of the face, and was the more provoking tome, because I could not think it affected.

'Good-morning, Mr. Markham,' said she; and without another word orglance, she withdrew, with her child, into the garden; and Ireturned home, angry and dissatisfied - I could scarcely tell youwhy, and therefore will not attempt it.

I only stayed to put away my gun and powder-horn, and give somerequisite directions to one of the farming-men, and then repairedto the vicarage, to solace my spirit and soothe my ruffled temperwith the company and conversation of Eliza Millward.

I found her, as usual, busy with some piece of soft embroidery (themania for Berlin wools had not yet commenced), while her sister wasseated at the chimney-corner, with the cat on her knee, mending aheap of stockings.

'Mary - Mary! put them away!' Eliza was hastily saying, just as Ientered the room.

'Not I, indeed!' was the phlegmatic reply; and my appearanceprevented further discussion.

'You're so unfortunate, Mr. Markham!' observed the younger sister,with one of her arch, sidelong glances. 'Papa's just gone out intothe parish, and not likely to be back for an hour!'

'Never mind; I can manage to spend a few minutes with hisdaughters, if they'll allow me,' said I, bringing a chair to thefire, and seating myself therein, without waiting to be asked.

'Well, if you'll be very good and amusing, we shall not object.'

'Let your permission be unconditional, pray; for I came not to givepleasure, but to seek it,' I answered.

However, I thought it but reasonable to make some slight exertionto render my company agreeable; and what little effort I made, wasapparently pretty successful, for Miss Eliza was never in a betterhumour. We seemed, indeed, to be mutually pleased with each other,and managed to maintain between us a cheerful and animated thoughnot very profound conversation. It was little better than a TETE-E-TETE, for Miss Millward never opened her lips, exceptoccasionally to correct some random assertion or exaggeratedexpression of her sister's, and once to ask her to pick up the ballof cotton that had rolled under the table. I did this myself,however, as in duty bound.

'Thank you, Mr. Markham,' said she, as I presented it to her. 'Iwould have picked it up myself; only I did not want to disturb thecat.'

'Mary, dear, that won't excuse you in Mr. Markham's eyes,' saidEliza; 'he hates cats, I daresay, as cordially as he does old maids- like all other gentlemen. Don't you, Mr. Markham?'

'I believe it is natural for our unamiable sex to dislike thecreatures,' replied I; 'for you ladies lavish so many caresses uponthem.'

'Bless them - little darlings!' cried she, in a sudden burst ofenthusiasm, turning round and overwhelming her sister's pet with ashower of kisses.

'Don't, Eliza!' said Miss Millward, somewhat gruffly, as sheimpatiently pushed her away.

But it was time for me to be going: make what haste I would, Ishould still be too late for tea; and my mother was the soul oforder and punctuality.

My fair friend was evidently unwilling to bid me adieu. I tenderlysqueezed her little hand at parting; and she repaid me with one ofher softest smiles and most bewitching glances. I went home veryhappy, with a heart brimful of complacency for myself, andoverflowing with love for Eliza.