Anne Bronte: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

12. CHAPTER XII (continued)

'What is it, then? You promised I should know some time, and - '

'You shall know some time - but not now - my head aches terribly,' she said, pressing her hand to her forehead, 'and I must have some repose - and surely I have had misery enough to-day!' she added, almost wildly.

'But it could not harm you to tell it,' I persisted: 'it would ease your mind; and I should then know how to comfort you.'

She shook her head despondingly. 'If you knew all, you, too, would blame me - perhaps even more than I deserve - though I have cruelly wronged you,' she added in a low murmur, as if she mused aloud.

'You, Helen? Impossible?'

'Yes, not willingly; for I did not know the strength and depth of your attachment. I thought - at least I endeavoured to think your regard for me was as cold and fraternal as you professed it to be.'

'Or as yours?'

'Or as mine - ought to have been - of such a light and selfish, superficial nature, that - '

'There, indeed, you wronged me.'

I know I did; and, sometimes, I suspected it then; but I thought, upon the whole, there could be no great harm in leaving your fancies and your hopes to dream themselves to nothing - or flutter away to some more fitting object, while your friendly sympathies remained with me; but if I had known the depth of your regard, the generous, disinterested affection you seem to feel - '

'Seem, Helen?'

'That you do feel, then, I would have acted differently.'