My Secret Life

She went home to her mother. He appears to have been fond of her. Love of women was his great fault; but the disease so set her against him, that all his entreaties were useless. Nevertheless she was his wife, and getting into the mother's house one day, when she was alone (Mary), he fucked her with violence—and violent it must have been, for she was as strong as a horse. Directly afterwards she left and went to service in London, confiding only her address to her mother, taking a false name, and writing him, that if ever he found her out and annoyed her, she would go abroad. Her husband made the mother a sort of promise to keep steady for three months, but failed in doing so, went to America, had never ceased to write affectionate letters which came to her through her mother, and had recently written to say he had made a large sum of money, and was coming home. He had sent money home to the mother with instructions to settle it on Mary how she liked, provided she would come back to him. Afterwards she showed me his letters; they were well written, and in a style above a man of his position in life.

She had lived in service ever since; with us she had then been a year and a half, and had had but two other places. One she left because a grown up son began to pay her too much attention. At the other the master —a married man—made love to her, and one day tried to force her. I know the last place, it was about three miles from us.

This news came like a cold bath on me. It suited my taste to have a woman in the house. The idea of losing her was terrible. She refused me my pleasures. I doubted her truth at times, but whenever I did, she would fetch a letter as proof saying, “Now will you believe me?” She refused to say where her home had been, and what her real name was. I used to try to make out the postmark on her letters, but could not. They were negligent in those days in such matters, and postage was dear.

And now I again asked if she had had any other but her husband and me; by all that was holy she declared she had not. “How came you to let me?” “God in heaven knows I” said she, “months ago if anyone had said such a thing was possible, I should have said it was ridiculous; I only thought of you as a tall boy, but that day I felt that my life was passing away without the pleasures of a woman; what you did kneeling down in the kitchen upset me, then I let you; though I thought I should ruin myself by doing so.”

She cared but little for her husband, for he had caused her to lead the life of a widow for years. “Suppose I had done anything wrong,” said she, “and he had found it out, he would have cast me away; but you men can do what you like, and we poor women have to submit.” “But why go back?” “Four months ago I would not have done so, but you have made me find out I am a woman after all; you will understand that better as you grow older. Not many would have kept chaste as I have done until that night. Now I mistrust myself. I am getting fond of you, but what could come of it? And if anything came to the ears of my mother and friends, who are respectable, I should drown myself. I have got plenty of will of my Awn, although I am quiet.” “You don't care much about poking?”

“I have had my wants, but suppressed them,” she replied. “What did you do?” “Oh I” said she in an off hand way, “what other unmarried women do, I suppose.” “Frigged yourself.” She gave a nod and said, “And not often that.” I thought of what Charlotte had told me, but held my tongue.

I tried to get at her at intervals, but it was no use. “It's caprice,” said I with my prick out, “you let me when I wanted it three weeks ago, why not now?” “I can't, — I dare not, — it might be certain ruin now.” “What does a fellow care about ruin, when his hand is outside a cunt, and his prick is like an iron rod?” Twice as strong as me, she could at all times have escaped me, unless sexual desire was strong on her; desire gives a man force, but it takes away a woman's force. She rose up, nor would she continue talking, until I had buttoned up my prick and promised not to touch her; that done, she said, “Would you wish to ruin me? You might if I let you, I have been very ill as you know, was in the family way, my monthlies stopped, and I have brought them on. When I was in trouble that way, I let you do what you like, now I am going home, what would become of me if I were in the family way then? This explained all.

I had never given her a present, I never gave Charlotte one; having then so little money. I never thought about it. I had now more, and offered to give her some if she wanted any. She showed me a saving-bank's book. She had got nearly fifty pounds. I bought a pair of gold earrings for her, it was the first present I had even given a woman, and she was much pleased. I had I think some vague notion, that it

—ISO— would induce her to let me have her; but if so, I was deceived.