My Secret Life

One fine summer's afternoon I came home before my usual time, it was about four o'clock P.M. Mary opened the door, she was alone in the house. I went to my room, then came down into the parlours, and for a time sat there looking into my garden and smoking. Grief overcame me as I looked round at the home in which there was no one to welcome me, so I walked into the garden, and saw the maid doing some work at the back kitchen door. “Your mistress is out?” I had never on any day asked that before, as far as I can recollect, not caring to know; and she might have been upstairs. “Yes sir.” “Did she say when she would return?” “No sir, but it will be I dare say about the usual time.” “When is that?” “Half-past five, or six o'clock, perhaps later.” I again turned down the gar-den, and as that did not relieve my dullness, returned to the house. I could not read though I tried, sat down on a chair by the dining-room table, laid my head on my hands upon it, and thought of my unhappy home till I cried bitterly.

A hand laid on my shoulder, a voice said, “Don't you take on so Master, — don't you now, — she's not worth it, — cheer up, — don't you take on so.” I looked up, it was Mary looking full at me, her eyes full of tears.

I started up astonished. “I beg your pardon”, said she looking uncomfortable, “I couldn't bear to see you so unhappy.” Her interest in me struck me to the heart, without premeditation I threw my arms round her, pressed her mouth to mine, it unresistingly met it, and we passionately kissed for two or three minutes; kissed till I recovered my senses, my tears still running down, and then said, “Mary you are kind, — you are a dear, good girl, — a good, affectionate, loving creature, -I am unhappy, miserable, but how do you know that?” “How could I be off of knowing? — how could you be anything else with her? — but don't take on so Master, — she beant worth it, — and you so good, and so kind, — I hate her when I look at her, and then look at you. Oh I I beg your pardon sir, — don't say anything”,-and as if astonished at herself, she disengaged herself, and stood looking at me. I closed with her again, folding her tightly to me, and we kissed till we could kiss no longer. My tears fell on her face, and hers ran down my cheeks, so close were they to-gether.

The parlours divided by folding doors mostly open, ran from back to front. A sofa was close by the dining-table. “Sit down”, said I. She did. I put my arm round her neck, pulled her face to mine, and kissed again that divinely pink and velvety cheek. Then her arm went round my waist, and lips to lips, each instant we kissed, and sat and talked of my miseries; yet as far as I recollect not the slightest desire to have her had then come into my head, all was delight at my trouble being shared, at a kind, soft, pretty woman commiserating me. After long talking and kissing, and looking at her, a sense of her great beauty suddenly struck me, just as if I had never noticed it before. I recollect telling her so.

Then a thrill of desire shot through me and staggered me. I trembled as the want overtook me, and drew her closer to me, kissed more fervently, and sighed. She sighed. My lust had kindled hers, and yet I had not spoken of it. My hand went on to her knees, I felt the thighs gently, felt their plumpness through the summer clothing, slowly my hand dropped lower kissing her all the while, and bending her forward with me, as I bent forward, with my dropping hand.

A long pause. I scarcely knew why, and then my hand went still lower, till it touched her ankles, still kissing her, and bending her with me (oh! how well I recollect it), then my right hand went quite slowly up her clothes to her knees, and there I stopped, frightened at my advances. Opening her eyes she gently re-pulsed me, and murmured, “Oh ! Master, — Master, — what are you doing,-pray don't.” Her eyes were filled with soft passion, her resistance physically would not have moved a butterfly, but morally she affected me. I became conscious of what I was driving on to unpremeditatingly.