My Secret Life

“To say to me?” said I. “Pray don't misunderstand me, I thought you would excuse it”, said she getting confused, “besides it is my duty, and of course knowing what I do about you, I was so afraid of something.” “What do you mean?” “Well if I had known where she was going to I would have made mother stop it, now I come at once to ask you not to hurt her.” I proposed going into a small half-country ale-house close by, but she refused saying, that if seen to do so, and it became known to her husband, it might cause much harm.

“Oh! no”, said she in a hurry again, “I must go, I must get back, I came to ask you not to hurt her, promise you won't for my sake.” All this time I was in a fog. “Who—who, — what do you mean?” said I. “Oh you know, — Mary, I mean Mary, she is my favorite sister, pray don't harm her.” The whole affair was clear to me at once. “It that what you came about?” I asked disappointed. “Yes, I have been coming for a fortnight, but could not make up my mind; her last letter made me determine at any risk to do so, and now dear, promise me not to hurt her, and I will go.”

I was annoyed and wounded in vanity, for I had almost brought myself to think she had come for the pleasure of meeting me. I had no intention of quitting her so soon, felt as if I could not, so chaffed her, “What do you mean by hurting her?” “Don't talk nonsense, you know what I mean.” “Another case of cock aund cunt coming together.” “If you talk like that, you insult me, and I did not think you would.” “Well, I love you and would not like to hurt your feel- ings, what you really mean is, that I am not to try to do it to her.” “Why of course, don't ruin her, that is what I mean.”

We had walked without any intention on my part to the outskirts of our village, where the pew-opener's house was in which Charlotte and I had spent many an hour in love's frolics. The house was in sight, the hope of again having her came to my mind. In her excitement, which was as great if not greater than mine, she had not noticed where we were, until quite at the angle. The pew-opener was at the door, gave me a nod, and thinking it possible I might be coming in I suppose, left the door ajar. “Come in”, said I. “Never! oh! no, you have brought me here purposely.” I saw there would be difficulty. “Here is that old Courtauld's house-maid, damn her”, said I. “Where, — where, — which way?” said she looking in alarm in all directions, but unable to see clearly through her veil. “There, — there”, “just step inside the door till she has past.” She stepped in quickly, the next instant I half pulled, half hustled her through the little door into the bed-room, slammed the door, locked it, and stood still, half afraid of my own boldness. She went to the window and began to peer through the blinds to see the old housemaid.

“I can't see her”, said she, “she must have passed, tell me which way she went, and let me go.” “Not yet. What do you want about Mary?” “Promise for my sake, you won't try to ruin her.” “Well, let us have a longer talk, how do you know I want to do so ?” “I know you do.” “Sit down.” “I cannot.” “Then I won't promise, why should I?” “Oh! don't be a blackguard, don't oh ! don't, — you shant have her, I will take care”, and then she burst out crying.

I loved her so that I felt I would do anything to please her; but wanted her so much, that I could be cruel enough to do or say anything to have her again. Desire was the stronger. The sofa, the bed, the room, her beauty, all made me feel savage with lust, so I temporized. “I am so excited”, said I, “I scarcely know what to say, what to do, tell me more, what you know, what you want, for all this stems so strange to me, — sit down.” “No.” “Sit down only while you tell me.” “No.” But I laid hold of her and pushed her on to the sofa, and there I held her, and after beseeching her to be quiet and kiss me, she did so. Then she sat for a minute, drying her tears, and began her tale and her request.