CHAPTER EIGHT

The Present

Six weeks had past. One pleasant morning near the end of June, I received a small package: a book I had ordered some time ago. Fergus eagerly handed me the book.

"Is that for Miss Eliza?" he asked with a smile.

"No," I said, as I put on my coat and walked out the door towards Wildfell Hall, with the book in my pocket.

Mrs Graham and I had spent more time together after the picnic by the sea, and I realized that she seemed to enjoy my visits. We talked about painting, poetry, and music. I lent her books, and once she lent me a book. My last visit had been to return the book she had lent me. During that visit, she mentioned a famous play that she wished to see. I had the idea to give her the book as a gift.

When I arrived at Wildfell Hall, I met them in the garden. Mrs Graham looked pleased to see me, and asked me to give my opinion on a painting she had just finished. It was beautiful, of the sea view from the picnic.

I soon presented the book to her, and was quite surprised at how embarrassed she looked.

"I'm sorry to be impolite, Mr Markham, but I cannot take the book unless I pay you for it."

"Why can you not? That's foolish."

"I will gladly take it if you will let me pay for it."

I was shocked.

"You look upset, Mr Markham—I wish I could make you understand—"

"I do understand you, perfectly," said I. "You believe that if you take the gift now, I will expect a favour from you later, but you are mistaken. This is simply a gift from one friend to another."

"Well," she paused, "then I will take the book, but remember."

And as she spoke those words, I handed her the book, and we parted as good friends.

(end of section)