MY SECRET LIFE
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!” 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 own, although I am quiet.”
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