Anne Bronte: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

47. CHAPTER XLVII (continued)

'I suppose I mayn't know where she is?' said I, as I dismounted, and relinquished my horse to the gardener, who, being the only servant within call, had been summoned by his master, from his employment of raking up the dead leaves on the lawn, to take him to the stables.

My companion gravely took my arm, and leading me away to the garden, thus answered my question, - 'She is at Grassdale Manor, in -shire.'

'Where?' cried I, with a convulsive start.

'At Grassdale Manor.'

'How was it?' I gasped. 'Who betrayed her?'

'She went of her own accord.'

'Impossible, Lawrence! She could not be so frantic!' exclaimed I, vehemently grasping his arm, as if to force him to unsay those hateful words.

'She did,' persisted he in the same grave, collected manner as before; 'and not without reason,' he continued, gently disengaging himself from my grasp. 'Mr. Huntingdon is ill.'

'And so she went to nurse him?'

'Yes.'

'Fool!' I could not help exclaiming, and Lawrence looked up with a rather reproachful glance. 'Is he dying, then?'

'I think not, Markham.'

'And how many more nurses has he? How many ladies are there besides to take care of him?'

'None; he was alone, or she would not have gone.'

'Oh, confound it! This is intolerable!'

'What is? That he should be alone?'