Devotion Page #6

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She must be absolutely

wretched at Stone Gap.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm sure I talk far too

much about my family.

No. I like to hear you talk about them.

It helps me to know you better.

That's a reward in itself.

Thank you.

Well, come along Mr Nicholls.

Between us we haven't picked enough

to make even one pie for poor old Tabby.

I'm not really lazy you know. But so far

I've seen very few blackberries to pick.

I can't understand it. Last year

was a very good season.

Why don't we sit down and

wait until next season?

Oh, you'll never last until then.

Last?

What I mean is .. no Curate has

ever stayed very long at Haworth.

It's too quiet and dull here, even for ..

Even for a Curate?

Well, Miss Emily.

Here is one Curate who is

asking for nothing better ..

Than to see many a season at Haworth.

Provided, of course ..

What?

That you promise to stay

and see them with me.

I promise.

Well, back home to Tabby.

Come on Keeper, come on boy.

Where is Emily?

She's assisting Mr Nicholls

with the Sunday School class.

Uhuh.

May I ask the significance of

that grunt, Miss Branwell?

Emily is full of good works

these days. Is she not?

You've never brought me this way before.

I never bring anyone this way.

Not even your brother and sisters?

Oh no .. they don't like this

part of the moor at all.

They think it is ugly.

It is a rather lonely place

here I suppose but ..

I don't mind that.

Why should you? You belong here.

You don't think it is ugly,

do you, Mr Nicholls?

There could never be anything

ugly about your world, Miss Emily.

But I do feel somewhat of a trespasser.

Oh, no you're not. That's

why I brought you here.

Knowing you is a rare privilege.

Thank you, Mr Nicholls.

That's what I wanted to show you.

Not quite what dreams

are made of, is it.

But it's been in mine ever

since I can remember.

A strange, awesome-looking place.

It's the place I write about.

And even though it is

grey and storm-swept.

And made for strange,

unyielding people.

The lovely things are all the lovelier.

Who lives there?

Ghosts.

You don't really believe

in ghosts, do you?

Oh yes. I've both seen and heard them.

They are in my dreams sometimes.

It seems that I stand

here, just at this spot.

Watching that house in

the silence of the night.

And then, suddenly I ..

I hear a sound that terrifies me.

The beating of the horse's hooves

coming nearer and nearer.

And I turn and ..

And here comes a great,

black horse and a dark rider.

And he thunders down on me.

I cannot move.

What does he look like?

I've never seen his face.

For a minute, you had me

believing your strange fancies.

There, Mr Nicholls you see.

When I'm with you, my dreadful nightmare

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