The Tenant of Wildfell Hall · Chapter 38 (2/2)

My heart bled for him as I lay listening to that ceaseless tread. Hitherto I had thought too much of myself, too little of him: now I forgot my own afflictions, and thought only of his; of the ardent affection so miserably wasted, the fond faith so cruelly betrayed, the⁠—no, I will not attempt to enumerate his wrongs⁠—but I hated his wife and my husband more intensely than ever, and not for my sake, but for his.

They departed early in the morning, before anyone else was down, except myself, and just as I was leaving my room Lord Lowborough was descending to take his place in the carriage, where his lady was already ensconced; and Arthur (or Mr. Huntingdon, as I prefer calling him, for the other is my child’s name) had the gratuitous insolence to come out in his dressing-gown to bid his “friend” goodbye.

“What, going already, Lowborough!” said he. “Well, good morning.” He smilingly offered his hand.

I think the other would have knocked him down, had he not instinctively started back before that bony fist quivering with rage and clenched till the knuckles gleamed white and glistening through the skin. Looking upon him with a countenance livid with furious hate, Lord Lowborough muttered between his closed teeth a deadly execration he would not have uttered had he been calm enough to choose his words, and departed.

“I call that an unchristian spirit now,” said the villain. “But I’d never give up an old friend for the sake of a wife. You may have mine if you like, and I call that handsome; I can do no more than offer restitution, can I?”

But Lowborough had gained the bottom of the stairs, and was now crossing the hall; and Mr. Huntingdon, leaning over the banisters, called out, “Give my love to Annabella! and I wish you both a happy journey,” and withdrew, laughing, to his chamber.

He subsequently expressed himself rather glad she was gone. “She was so deuced imperious and exacting,” said he. “Now I shall be my own man again, and feel rather more at my ease.”