Explore "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"My dear Gilbert, I wish you would try to be a little more amiable," said my mother one morning after some display of unjustifiable ill-humour on my part. "You say there is nothing the matter with you, and nothing has happened to grieve you, and yet I never saw anyone so altered as you within these last few days. You haven't a good word for anybody -- friends and strangers, equals and inferiors -- it's all the same. I do wish you'd try to check it. "
"Check what? "