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Secrets Told. 
 
 With Twenty-two Piquant Illustrations 
 
 :3firom ^ifc. 
 
 BY ^ 
 
 ALICE KINGSBURY Grrhu 
 
 (MRS. COL. F. M. COOLY) 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO : 
 ALTA CALIFORNIA PRINTING HOUSE 529 CALIFORNIA STREET 
 
 1879 
 

 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TITLES. ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Buttons off This is the Shirt 2 
 
 Scolding This is the Face 6 
 
 *On the War Path This is the Hat '. 1 1 
 
 Punctuality This is the Business 13 
 
 About husbands' Presents This is the Collar 17 
 
 Servant Girls This is the Wig 20 
 
 WTiat shall we do with our Wives?. These are the Children 24 
 
 Darning Stockings These are the Socks 28 
 
 Daniel Deronda 3° 
 
 Fashionable This is the Shawl 33 
 
 +A woman's expose of the male housekeeper. . . .The Book 36 
 
 tThe Wrong Wrought by a Corner Grocer}' This is the Comer (Grocery. .40 
 
 Georges Wife's Opinion on B oks 42 
 
 One more Unfortunate 47 
 
 Too Early Marriage . • • 5° 
 
 Disappointment 53 
 
 Woman 57 
 
 A Plea for Laziness This is the work 62 
 
 Small Feet This is the Leg 67 
 
 Why do Men Marry? This is the Divide 69 
 
 Daniel Deronda ^ 74 
 
 Courting These are the Beaux 79 
 
 To the Girls of to-day This is before Marriage 83 
 
 A Loquacious Woman This is after Marriage 88 
 
 The Baby This is the General 91 
 
 Liberty 94 
 
 Greivances This is the Quarrel 97 
 
 Woman No 2 100 
 
 Utilizing the rich ... This is the Petition 103 
 
 $The man who stays at home too much 108 
 
 How a Woman Kept a Secret ill 
 
 About going on the Stage 116 
 
 Speak your mind Silence 120 
 
 All for Love 123 
 
 ♦First published m the Argonaut. 
 tFirst published in the Chroni le 
 JAn unknown writer in the Chronicle. 
 §Fi.-st published in the Chronicle. 
 
Copyrighted, 1879, 
 By MRS. F.M.COOLEY, 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
PREFACE TO ALICE KINGSBURT S NEW BOOK 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 I am a bachelor of — to observers — an uncertain age. My lady 
 friends make me their confidant. I don't know why, unless it is my 
 sympathetic, reassuring ways. We all know that some people invite 
 confidence without an effort on their part, as other people repel the 
 same. I am of the former. Now mind me, in giving these conver- 
 sations to the public, I betray no trust reposed in me, for I so change 
 the names and locations, that the people cannot be recognized by their 
 nearest neighbors. I do it too, to help the dear sex with which I so 
 sympathize, in their troubles, disappointments, and the thousand and 
 one petty annoyances of married life. I do it to help them correct 
 any faults of their own that have in any possible way contributed to 
 their unhappiness. I do it that they may quietly drop the book in 
 their husbands' way, so that they can see the trouble, the little faults of 
 Jones or Smith cause to their wives and families, and so be tempted 
 to mentally examine themselves. 
 
 I wish and expect my book to do good, am almost certain some of the 
 sketches already have, for which I thus publicly thank the Alta, who first 
 lent me a helping hand in the hard and difficult path of literature. 
 
 Some may object that I have spoken too plainly — that the good old 
 Saxon words have not been dressed enough for polite society. In 
 reply, I will say, the book is for grown people; it is intended to 
 correct abuses, which only plain, truthful language can; milk and 
 water words would do no good, and as all that I have written has 
 really happened, with, as I said before, a little alteration, I would beg 
 those whom the book offends to give it where it will do the most good 
 — or put it in the fire. Hop o-My-Thumb. 
 
 p. S. — It was the intention of the writer to receive lady subscribers only, but finding, although 
 it was very sure it was rather too slow for his purpose — for the reason for the aforesaid slowness, 
 see book — he therefore announces that the subscription list is open to the masculine gender also. 
 
Secrets Told. 
 
 BUTTONS OFF. 
 
 N. B. — This being woman's first duty, thus I begin my book. 
 
 "Oh! good gracious! Oh, my! ho! ho! ha!" 
 
 "What is the matter, Pet ?" 
 
 ''Oh, dear! to think! the very first one! ho! ho! ho!'* 
 
 " Why, Pet, you'll go into a fit, if you don't stop." 
 
 ''Ho! ho! ho!— ho! ho! ho!" 
 
 His face was red and swollen, and the little woman became alarmed , 
 so taking him by the two hands, she tried to raise him from the bed, 
 where he had thrown himself in the excess of his hilarity. It was 
 hard work, for his two hundred avoirdupois was too much for her ligh ' 
 weight of eighty-five. After a few more outbursts of " Ho! ho! "ho!' 
 and the sprinkling of his face with cold water — sprinkling, mind you, 
 by a gentle, loving hand — not dashed on by a vixen — he helped him- 
 self to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. 
 
 ''Pet, you frighten me!" 
 
 " But to think, the very first — ho! ho! — " 
 
 " Now, please, don't!" 
 
 And all this about a button being off! ! She had told him, with a 
 great deal of pride : " Pet, I have mended all your shirts, and there's 
 not a button off now, in the whole lot." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 The Shirt. 
 
 ** Let's see," he had replied, incredulously; and sure 
 enough, the very first shirt was minus a button. She 
 tried to explain it away, but the fact was indisputable. 
 She wasn't a very good housekeeper, and sometimes for- 
 got to attend to those very important — to women — articles 
 of buttons, while she was, well, not exactly attending to the 
 wants of Borrioboola Gha, but writing poetry. (This is a 
 true story, as the fairy books don't say. ) 
 
 They were a happy couple, too; it was only when clean 
 shirt day came round, and the drawer was suddenly 
 opened, that her face became anxious, and she tried to remember if 
 she had forgotten to look at the wash last week, and often her fears 
 were confirmed by 
 
 " Humph! there's a button off !" 
 
 " Is there, really.? Why, I looked — " 
 
 "No you didn't, either! I shouldn't think it was much work to sew 
 on a button!" 
 
 " But, Pet, if you only knew how hard it was to put a shirt away 
 decently, after completely unfolding it to look at every cuff and neck- 
 band, you would not be surprised that I content myself, sometimes, 
 by seeing that the bosoms are all right — here, let me sew one on." 
 So she sits up in her nightgown, her teeth chattering with cold, and he 
 bends over, looking the picture of amiability. "The more haste the 
 less speed," you know the adage ; and whoever saw a button sewed on 
 in a hurry that the thread didn't knot several times, or the button fall 
 to the floor, or the needle stick somebody, so that there are generally 
 two sighs of relief when the operation is completed .? 
 
 The quickest process I ever saw yet of arousing a slumbering woman 
 on a cold morning, has been the gentle exclamation of her spouse : 
 "There's a bmton off." 
 -It is said so quietly, too, without any dashes, as we gentlemen always 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 5 
 
 remind our wives of their little deficiencies in duty, that it is a marvel 
 how it can have the effect of a thunderbolt, causing an apparition in 
 white to start up with such suddenness as to nearly knock her nightcap 
 off her head, more potent than the aroma of a good breakfast stealing 
 up-stairs, or the sweet tones of love, uttering : 
 
 " Get up, dear." 
 
 Now, let us look at this question theoretically. 
 
 A button is a small thing, a cheap thing, a thing of little intrinsic 
 value ; a piece of pearl, a piece of china or a piece of brass, or bone> 
 or iron, or tin, or silk, or cloth, with one hole, two holes, three, four, 
 and sometimes no hole at all, still, a button's a button and very dear 
 to the heart of a man. 
 
 Pins answer every purpose for you, gentle women ; your deft fingers 
 can pin a collar or a ruff on your dress, and the pins remain as firm as 
 adamant, and don't draw blood either ; but let one of us poor mascu- 
 lines try it in a fit of spleen or resentment, and don't we rue the day ? 
 Why, there's not a man on the street that don't know it ; either by 
 seeing the pin, that we have not the ingenuity to conceal, and that 
 constantly rasps our hands as we stroke our petted moustache, or by 
 the collar getting into our back hair, leaving a rosy line of flesh where 
 the pin has been making its mark, or by that peculiar twisting and 
 turning of the neck that cannot be mistaken. 
 
 Now, we don't mind our cuffs being a little " sawy" at the edges? 
 
 for, although I was a little surprised 'at my friend 1 stretching out 
 
 his from a sleeve of finest broadcloth, to pencil a memoranda of how 
 much he was "long" or ''short" on New Coso, although I was, as I 
 said, surprised to see a nice little saw at the end of his snow-white cufF 
 still I know if the buttons were all on, he was in comfort and could 
 smile at the ragged edge. 
 
 I have heard of a murder being committed because a beefsteak was 
 not done to suit ; of another, because dinner was not done in time; 
 
6 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 of scores of others on more frivolous pretexts; yet who ever heard of 
 blood being drawn by patient man on account of an aggravation fifty, 
 nay a hundred times worse than either of these? But, dear ladies, 
 take warning, the mildest of men can be driven to desperation ; the 
 most amiable of husbands can become a fiend ; the most learned of 
 scholars turn brute ; the most loving of spouses a savage, by the con- 
 stant, reiterated, inexcusable, with malice-aforethought forgetfulness of 
 the first and foremost duty of a married woman's life, attending to her 
 husband's buttons. 
 
 Ladies, be warned ! Farewell. 
 
 And this was Madeline's experience, related to me. 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 SCOLDING. 
 
 We don't scold. With all our faults of omission and commission, 
 we don't scold. Why, everybody knows that, from our wife down to 
 our youngest babe. That is the fair sex's prerogative. If we refuse 
 them the ballot, for goodness sake, let us grant them the privilege of 
 expressing their mind freely. 
 
 Of course, we would rather they would express in words than in 
 actions, for it is a little unpleasant to have to go about for.a day or 
 two with our face bound up, because of a dreadful boil, when it's only 
 the loving marks of little nails, we are trying to hide. 
 
 A friend of mine, living in the cold North — a politician, too — had 
 occasion once to come into town — he resided in the country. He 
 
SECRETS TOLD. I 
 
 met several of his colleagues, and, as politicians never drink anything 
 strong, he was surprised that after imbibing several glasses of milk, 
 and smoking sundry cigars, that he should wake up as a visitor in the 
 jail, not as a prisoner, mind you, for he was a noted politician and the 
 jailor, his friend, took this method of hiding him from the gaze of the 
 rude public. When he did not return to his home at the proper time 
 — some men have proper times, and some don't, as we know — his 
 wife, who adored the ground he walked on, figuratively speaking, had 
 had an immense feather-bed placed in their large wagon ; then, with 
 the driver, started for town in the middle of the night, expecting to 
 pick up his poor, mangled body on the road. The twelve miles were 
 passed, and no mangled body; the town was reached, and no rumor 
 of such a body. The patient wife visited all his haunts, and finally 
 brought up at the jail. Her entrance suddenly awakened her husband, 
 who quickly remembered he had forgotten several hours, and could 
 not imagine how in the world he had got there! She quietly took him 
 to a friend's to explain matters. He smiled so good-naturedly, by 
 way of explanation, that it exasperated her, and she clawed his face 
 like an infuriated little cat. All for love, though! Why, for her, the 
 sun rose and set in that man's beautiful black whiskers. 
 
 Think how she had suffered ! — a twelve-mile 
 ride in a bitter cold night, straining her eyes at 
 every log and shadow; and not to find his man- 
 gled body after all! — her kindness thrown away 
 on an ungrateful man who had only been — well, 
 indiscreet. He carried the marks of those lov- 
 ing fingers for several daj'S, but he didn't scold 
 —at least, I did not hear him. I don't know This is the Face, 
 what he did when he reached home. 
 
 Now, this is a sample of what we poor men endure without a mur- 
 mer — sometimes; and for such little offences, tool 
 
8 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Why, I know of a man who tried to pursuade his wife that she must 
 have his dinner done in time, by quietly pressing his feet on her 
 body! The argument was not effective, though, for she never cooked 
 his dinner again, and he was not hung for murder, either. This hap- 
 pened in the enhghtened town of Cincinnati. 
 
 But men will express their minds by actions, leaving words to 
 women, in other cities beside that. Why, last Summer in gentle Phil- 
 adelphia, that mis-named City of Brotherly Love, a man used the 
 peaceful argument of saturating his wife with coal oil, and then ignit- 
 ing her, all about a beefsteak! You will find the account in the left 
 hand column of one of the daily papers there; she died, and the man 
 lives, for all I know. 
 
 Now, though we dont scold, I would advise the abandonment of 
 these very pronounced arguments, as the result is neither satisfactory, 
 nor the record of the experience calculated to help a needy brother. 
 
 We don't Hke scolds of any kind, and to be eternally greeted with: 
 
 "Now, Hun" — short for Honey — "do be careful, and wipe your 
 feet!" — meaning boots. " Oh, dear! see how you have soiled the 
 carpet! !" 
 
 ''Can't you possibly spit straighter into that cuspador.?" 
 
 ** Please don't smoke in the parlor, it spoils the curtains.?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! — with a weary sigh- — "you've got your boots on the 
 bed again!" 
 
 Are apt to irritate a man, and cause him to leave his peaceful 
 home and seek elsewhere an asylum in which he can indulge his 
 little eccentricities. 
 
 The corner grocery is very convenient, though it is a little unpleas- 
 ant to be startled from a quiet game of whist, or lively draw-poker, by 
 the dulcet tones of your wife, who makes a loaf of bread, or to know 
 the exact time, an excuse for a visit; and seeing our elbow^s extending 
 beyond the inconveniently small barricade that separates our elysium 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 9 
 
 from the gaze of impertinent curiosity, she instantly recognizes that 
 patch on our sleeve, and exclaims: "why Major! Some one has 
 been waiting a whole hour for you!" 
 
 We jump up lively, thinking it's that Jones who has been owing us 
 for so long, come to settle ; but are soon undeceived when we reach 
 the gate, or perhaps she is shrewd and lets us reach the parlor first. 
 
 "Now, aren't you a pretty husband! Here I'm moping all day 
 alone, and the minute you get your dinner," etc., etc. — we have all 
 been there. 
 
 Now ladies, don't, please don't scold .? 
 
 I would rather my wife would slap my ears good, so long as she did 
 not scratch my face, than to be forever nag, nag, naging at me. 
 
 Two of our friends went to a country ball one night, leaving their 
 wives in ignorance at the hotel. There they watched for them till the 
 gray dawn, when they returned — one lookiitg very crestfallen, the 
 other jolly, with a horsewhip in his hand. 
 
 "Here love, use this on me, but don't scold!" said he; so she was 
 silenced before she began. 
 
 "Whew " whispered the other, " I wouldn't dare offer it to my wife; 
 she'd — she'd cut my very heart out!'" 
 
 Now, here was a small offence to be even angry at. A gentleman 
 enjoys himself, dancing till day with a lot of pretty girls, and his wife, 
 who should be so thankful that he was happy, and who should look 
 upon her long night of dreadful anxiety as a mere bagatelle to be often 
 endured, if necessary, to allow him the ecstasy of squeezing slender 
 waists and pressing soft hands, to be angry ! Now, what reasonable 
 woman ought to object, and to scold, too. Oh ! dreadful ! 
 
 Now, if our wives should follow our example, and do likewise, we 
 would not scold. Oh, no! But we would /^/Z/./ or send them home to 
 their mothers. That's more pohte and genteel. 
 
 I once knew a man who scolded sometimes, but he was the mildest 
 
10 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 tempered man in the world ; so fat and jolly, too. He was quite an 
 amateur cook, and one day made some splendid oyster stew; but it did 
 not exactly suit his wife, and she expressed her disapprobation by 
 dropping a fork on the floor accidently. That was enough ; the good 
 natured man picked up a bowl; smash it went, then another, then 
 a plate smash! then a cup, saucer, dish; then the cruet bottles. His 
 wife did not attempt to stop him, but when he was through she laughed 
 at him ; he snatched his hat in fury and rushed to the door. His wife 
 had hard work to coax him to return and eat his dinner, but for months 
 he took his bread and milk out of the butter dish — his wife would buy 
 no more bowls! Another time he thought he would cook some savory 
 sausages. His wife, being hungry, cooked one while he was preparing. 
 
 If a thunderbolt had shattered the house, if a water spout had burst 
 and drowned them all, if an earthquake had shook them through to 
 China, she could not have been more surprised than at the vial of 
 wrath that burst upon her head i The husband almost danced with 
 anger. 
 
 "Yes! I've seen it for some time; I don't suit you any more!" 
 
 "Why, Pet! I was so hungry!" 
 
 " Thunderation !" Smash went the stove-lifter — broke! "I know 
 — nothing I do suits you these days," btc. 
 
 After the husband had finished explaining himself, and his wife 
 wanted to explain also, he went for the street — that's the way some of 
 us escape it — and his wife had to coax and plead to get him back to 
 his sausages and his senses. See the cause he had 1 Why did his 
 wife not wait and eat with gentility, and — a knife and fork, instead of 
 seizing a broiling hot sausage in her fingers, as if she was starved ? 
 
 It is only in such extreme cases that we have the weakness to use 
 a woman's weapon, the tongue. 
 
 I hope I've proved to you that we men don't scold, or if we do, 
 our actions speak so much louder than our words, that we get the 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 11 
 
 reputation of being, perhaps, a little more angelic than we really are. 
 But you ladies, being naturally sweet and weak, and not of deter" 
 mined action, overflow with words, and are therefore called by the 
 peculiar name of scolds ! 
 
 Take my advice, practice with dumb-bells, war-clubs, boxing- 
 gloves, fhe Health Lift — anything to develop your muscle, remember- 
 ing always that actions speak louder than words! Be advised. 
 
 And this is how May's husband acted. 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 ON THE WAR PATH. 
 
 The subjoined " talk" comes from a lady friend who attended the 
 lecture of Ingersoll, and there learned to talk back. She is getting in- 
 dependent, speaks of herself as a full partner in the firm matrimonial, 
 and believes she is as much entitled to have a good time as her hus- 
 band has to play Blue Peter and cinch at the club. We are not re- 
 sponsible for the views of our (lady) correspondents: 
 
 I have been trying for a few weeks Woman's Natural Sphere, with 
 not a thought above cleaning pots and pans, and what should compose 
 the next dinner. My knees have been bent more to the God of Clean- 
 liness than for many a long day to the God of Love. The lamp has 
 been filled and the fleas brushed away, and yet I have failed to dis- 
 cover that it is at all elevating or soul inspiring, or that your husband 
 loves you two cents more for being the family drudge. And I have 
 come to the conclusion that it is by no means an intelligent woman's 
 sphere, no matter how much bosh a man may write about it, and that 
 your children think less of "mamma," with soiled hands and drabbled 
 
12 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 dress, than when she is singing in the parlor, or even writing trash for 
 the newspapers, and yet I am not " strong minded," and don't want 
 to vote — at least till the next election. My hands feel as if, instead of 
 51", I could easily wear 7^, Jouvin's best; and instead of 1^ 
 ankle ties, the shoes of the Chinese Giant would be more comfort- 
 able. I have broken my corset lace, and ruined my " pinback," and 
 all that my beloved should smoke fine cigars, and play * ' Pedro" for the 
 drinks, and now I've done. I'rp going to hire a Dutch girl as strong 
 
 as an ox, and big enough 
 to keep the family 
 straight. When dinner 
 is ordered for six p. m., 
 we have dinner at six P.M., 
 if there is only an old 
 hat to sit in the chair op- 
 posite me for company. 
 I have learned in these 
 few weeks of stern ex- 
 perience that a woman 
 
 is a f , excuse me, 
 
 an angel, to work and 
 
 worry her life out, be- 
 cause she happens to be 
 a partner in a firm, the 
 other half of which spends all the money and has all the fun, she 
 getting her board and lodging, like any other servant, without a "thank 
 you," for all her trouble, and the house being ever so clean, whereas, 
 a " hired lady help," would be spoken to softly with praise for the 
 scrubbed floor, and nice dinner, and a convenient little twenty-dollar 
 gold piece at the end of the month; and yet they are not happy, and 
 
 This is the Hat. 
 
I 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 13 
 
 if they are not kissed behind the door, they soon seek fresh fields and 
 pastures new. 
 
 Well, well, well! Will no experience teach a woman how to manage 
 a husband ? I have had experience, years of experience, and yet I 
 am as far from the goal as ever, and have come to the conclusion that 
 unless a man has the bumps of time and order well developed, that a 
 woman wastes her time in trying to be either a good house-keeper or a 
 good husband-tamer; and my advice is, find out where those bumps 
 or deficiencies are, and go for them. 
 
 P. S. You think I am trying to make women discontented (so I 
 am) with their mamby-pamby—work-themselves-gray— lives. Let 
 them rise up in their might and dignity, and show a man he is not 
 everybody; that there is such a thing as a woman to be considered, 
 who is now going to take her place as joint-head of the house, which 
 he will soon learn to his utter amazement Oh! don't think that this is 
 my experience; do not give me the discredit of being such a simple- 
 ton; but a lady friend whispered it in my ear, and if it is her experi- 
 ence, it is the experience of thousands of others; for there is no 
 blessed or unblessed exception that ele\ates one woman to the extreme 
 hights of happiness, and depresses another to the lowest depths of 
 misery — it runs pretty even, and woman is only woman all the world 
 over. 
 
 And this is what Agnes says. 
 
 PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 Some men are not punctual. We revere our sex, still, we are not 
 blind, like love, so we see the few faults that are hardly discernable in 
 that perfection of humanity — a man. 
 
14 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Perhaps it would be better for our own sake that we cultivate this 
 quality, habit, characteristic, or what it may be called. First and fore- 
 most, we should hear sweeter music in our mother tongue, syllabled 
 by our wife. 
 
 The moments slip by so rapidly when one is just finishing a war- 
 story, or is deep in a discussion as to the relative merits of the rival Presi- 
 dential candidates; and we are reasonably surprised when we are a litde 
 late, say fifty or sixty minutes, to meet a small-sized thundercloud at 
 the door. 
 
 " Where have you been .?" 
 
 "Why, what time is it, dear }" 
 
 " An hour past dinner-time, and everything is spoiled." 
 
 *' Really, I must take my watch to the jeweler's" — taking it out. 
 *' Why, it is five o'clock by this, and you say I'm an hour late Then 
 this must be much too slow!" 
 
 This excuse will only do occasionally, as it soon becomes monoton- 
 ous and thin, and dinner-time is too early to mention Lodge. That 
 has to bear enough for itself and fifty other things, when night comes. 
 
 So when we wish to watch the pretty 
 girls coming from the matinees, we have 
 to invent, and our brain must be fertile 
 if we often wish for meeting an old friend 
 or a spendid customer — can't be repeated 
 too often, if our wives have the penetra- 
 tion and appreciaton we gave them 
 credit for when they chose us. Besides, 
 they know about what time our business 
 ends for the day. 
 
 Sometimes we can put it on the cars. 
 This is the Business. and happy is the man who can plead a 
 
 car off the track or a fractious horse. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 15 
 
 But why the women act as if life and death depended upon one 
 being home at just such a time, we cannot see. 
 
 What if dinner is a httle overdone, so long as it is hot and served 
 with mild words, it will taste well enough. 
 
 I know a wife who once took the notion into her head to always 
 wait dinner for her lord. The first month she went hungry ; the 
 second, cross; the third, nearly starved the children; the fourth was 
 furious; the fifth, tried to hunt him up; the sixth, ate dinner without 
 him, and there was peace and quietness all around; the children were 
 satisfied, the servants stopped their grumbling, and the wife, not being 
 hungry and tired with waiting, was in a better humor and inclined to 
 look more leniently on the causes of the delay. 
 
 This I would advise all our wives to do, after waiting a reasonable 
 length of time, say half to two hours; this is about as much as any 
 woman's patience can stand, or their appetites either. 
 
 We know that we are so fascinating, that it is hard to eat without us, 
 and we should be really pleased and flattered, if it were some one 
 else's wife waiting for us so anxiously ; but being ours, it is an old 
 story, and we are apt to be angry when they complain of hunger. 
 
 "Why don't you eat, then? I have told you to a hundred times. 
 I wouldn't go hungry, I can tell you, with a good dinner waiting." 
 
 "But it is so lonely to eat without you — I see so little of you, that I 
 scarcely get a chance to talk to you any more." 
 
 "Oh, fudge!" 
 
 You see, it doesn't do to be too romantic after being married a 
 couple of years or so. We know that this thinking too much of us^ 
 waiting for our coming, and watching for our smiles, is apt to make a 
 woman look old and worn ; so take my advice, ladies, and donH do it. 
 
 I wan't to whisper something, so that my brothers shan't hear; bend 
 down your head: We don't think near so much of you for it — be a 
 
IQ SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 little more devil and less angel, and you will hold us to you the 
 stronger. 
 
 I heard the wife of a friend of mine once say to him: 
 
 "If I was a man, I wouldn't trust you one bit in a business mat- 
 ter, because you never keep your word. " 
 
 He laughed pleasantly, and. replied : 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing to break your word to your wife; but in business 
 it's a very different matter." 
 
 A friend of mine, whose dinner-hour is six, strolled in at eight one 
 evening, with a friend whom he had brought home to dinner. The 
 inconsiderate wife had dined without him. 
 
 "I'm afraid I've kept your husband a little late," said the guest. 
 
 He got an emphatic reply in the shape of the scrag end of the 
 joint and cold vegetables. 
 
 Some of us think, no matter what time we drop in for dinner, it 
 should be done to a turn; and I have heard some men scold— excuse 
 me— express their mind freely, when dinner had waited two or three 
 hours and was not quite so good as if just served up, that their wives 
 were no housekeeper, and couldn't cook like their mother! 
 
 These gentlemen should have a series of dirmers— or, rather, their 
 wives should attend to it — like Cleopatra did when she was entertain- 
 ing Antony ; so, if they were not ready for one when it was cooked, 
 
 several more would be forthcoming. 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 And this is the attention Lizzie received from her husband. ' 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 17 
 
 ABOUT HUSBANDS' PRESENTS. 
 
 So you didn't even thank your husband for his beautiful present ? A 
 diamond ring, too; because he could not come to bring you home the 
 very day he promised ? 
 
 Oh, you goose ! Husbands give presents too rarely for them to be 
 treated lightly. Take advice from one who is older in experience of 
 husbands than you are and don't do so any more. Do you know what 
 he told me quietly.? — that it would be a long time before you got 
 another. 
 
 Now, what I say I say freely and without prejudice, both to you 
 and my other dear friends. Accept any and every present your hus- 
 band gives, always with smiles, always with thanks; praise the gift, if 
 you can one-twentieth part conscientiously, or admire the great taste 
 displayed in selecting it; go into raptures over it, if it is in the least a 
 rapture-inspiring gift. Depend upon it, you'll get many, very many 
 more by this simple process, than by "Oh, how ugly! What did you 
 buy that for ? I needed shoes so much more. You men don't know 
 how to buy anything. Why didn't you give me the money ?' " 
 
 '* What taste! Why the pattern is only fit for a bed quilt! They've 
 cheated you; you've paid twice too much for it." 
 
 Now, this hurts their self-opinion, and what husband in the face of 
 such talk — and my dear female friends, you know this is no fancy 
 talk, but what you tell those poor Benedicks almost every present they 
 give you — now what husband, I say, will be constantly bringing home 
 little knicknacks, and you know very well, or perhaps you don't, that 
 they will often buy little things for you, when they are pleasantly re- 
 
18 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 ceived, that you might live till the next Centennial and they'd never 
 think of offering you the money to buy. 
 
 I know a lady whose husband returning from a long journey, 
 brought his wife two dress patterns; one a silk — black, striped with 
 yellow — the other, a kind of red damask. " Whew, how his wife will 
 fret!" I thought, as he pulled them so tenderly from his valise and 
 showed them to me so admiringly. What could I say ? Well, I 
 smiled and said they were very nice; so they were for some things; 
 damask would make nice curtains, for example; the silk would pass if 
 his wife had been a little gayer. She came to me not long after, with 
 a sad, pitying smile on her face, and said: 
 ''Look!" 
 
 "'Sh! Don't say anything against them; he showed them to me 
 so proudly. The silk will look quite nicely made up." 
 
 "^ut look at the other, the one I wanted so; it looks like cur- 
 tains or furniture covering." 
 
 " Why it will make a splendid morning dress. Don't show that they 
 do not please you, or he never will bring anything the next time he 
 has an opportunity." She took them sadly and went away, but to this 
 day I never saw her wear them. 
 
 Now my beloved once bought me a 
 collar among other really useful and pretty 
 things. He said to the servants, trium- 
 phantly : 
 
 ' ' You can't guess what that cost ? " 
 Our new-made citizens of color grinned 
 This IS the Collar. and Said : 
 
 " Dunno, Curnel ! " They take pride in titles. 
 " Well, for what I paid for this collar, you could buy two barrels of 
 flour." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 19 
 
 " De Lor' bress US ! " and they gaped wide-mouthed looking upon 
 it with almost awe. 
 
 Of course I was delighted, and thanked him kindly and gave him 
 a kiss for all the pretty things he brought me ; then he told me how 
 the lady had said what a good judge of laces he was ; seldom men 
 could tell so well, etc. I suppose she was young and pretty, but don't 
 know — only she fooled my confiding darling most terribly — for the 
 collar was imitation Valenciennes, sewed on by no means fine muslin 
 garnished with two cherry satin bows. But I wore it, and though my 
 lady friends knew it was not real, I never let him know, and he is in 
 ignorance to this day, that he is not one of the finest judges of laces 
 in the world. 
 
 I remember the first time he brought home a loaf filled with fried 
 oysters; he had been out, and it was rather late, so I pouted at first, 
 and wouldn't eat any; but he kept good-natured, ate some, and said 
 'Take some, Pet, they are splendid!' Well, after expressing my mind 
 a little about late hours, etc., I did eat some, and they were splendid, 
 so I finished them, and the natural suavity of my temper returned. 
 
 I found out that pouting and quarreling with the oysters did not 
 keep him from going out when he wanted to, and only left me hungry 
 to go to bed. I hinted for oysters next time. In Philadelphia they 
 do them up in paper boxes and give them an expressive name, and 
 more wives get fried oysters than they ever did before. 
 
 Never tell your husband he is wasting money when he brings you 
 home 2i petit souper , or some nice strawberries, for depend upon it, if 
 he don't bring them to you, he eats them himself, and how much 
 better it would be to enjoy them with him, for he judges you by him- 
 self, thinking that you appreciate such things, and that good eatir>.g is 
 one of the greatest pleasures of life; and after all, there is something 
 in it, or it would never have become a proverb that " The way to a 
 man's heart is through his stomach." 
 
20 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Oh, ladies, treat these little attentions kindly, or the day may come 
 when you'll have no little attentions to treat any way at all. Sing to 
 your husbands, 
 
 Dearest love, now listen to me, 
 
 When you feel inclined to bring, 
 Dress or collar, boots or stockings. 
 Or some less pretentious thing; 
 Oh, bring your presents right along, 
 
 I will thank you with a kiss; 
 Such attentions are so pleasing, 
 And so seldom — that 'tis bliss. 
 To be so honored . 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 SERVANT GIRLS. 
 
 Why our wives will persist in hiring those hideous China boys 
 when there are so many nice girls to be had, is more than I can tell. 
 Now I am a moral man, and twenty nice girls would not tempt me. 
 But there are pros and cons to every question. I am on the pro 
 side at present, but I have a friend who is on the con side, if that 
 means against. He is a lean, cadaverous looking man, with weary eyes 
 and a plaintive voice. One evening he was passing our door, so I 
 asked him in, but my wife was sitting on the steps, looking smiling 
 and pretty, so he shook his head with a sigh, and asked me if I would 
 not walk a block or two with him ; my wife in pity, said, "yes, %o," so 
 I went. After walking a short distance in silence he began : 
 
 **It is a good thing to have a friend — one to whom you can confide 
 your griefs, that, preying on you alone might make you misanthropic. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 21 
 
 My friend, you are still young; your hair is brown and curly; let my ap- 
 pearance be a warning to you." He sighed and wiped his dewy brow 
 with a large silk handkerchief. 
 
 "My wife is a good woman, but she employed a Chinaman, and my 
 life was a misery ; food ill-cooked, shirts scorched and collars limp. 
 I endured it like a good husband, till he took the size of the iron out 
 of the bosom of my best shirt, then I mildly suggested to my wife that 
 we had better try white help. I didn't say girl, so my wife said she'd 
 see, and the next day there was a clean, tidy girl around the house." 
 
 "Your wife is a sensible woman," I remarked. 
 
 He gave me a sad look, with his weary blue eyes, and continued ; 
 "You are right — we got along nicely for several days ; food well done, 
 shirts perfection. This fact I remarked to my wife, saying how much 
 pleasanter they were to wear, done up by clean, rosy fingers than by a 
 Chinaman, whose work always made me feel uncomfortable. I did 
 not then understand the peculiar look that gleamed in her eyes. I 
 got up a little earher than my wife, so Maria used to tell me 'good 
 morning' very pleasantly; and as I sat doing my writing before break- 
 fast, it was cheerful to see her smiling face pop in and out on various 
 errands ; 'how should she cook this or that, ' ' did I like my coffee 
 strong,' etc. ; so we soon got well acquainted, but knowing my wife 
 was particular I scaccely spoke to her when she was about. Our 
 door had no key, and I suppose I used to forget to shut it tight, for 
 the wind used to make it screak very often in the early morning. 
 One night my wife gave me a severe lecture — I suppose I deserved it ; 
 she went to sleep talking, and woke early and finished it, so I arose in 
 not a very amiable temper toward her. Maria spoke to me kindly. 
 *Here,' thought I, *is one who cares for me.' She looked so nice, too, 
 that I suddenly snatched a kiss from her lips, and she as suddenly ut- 
 tered a slight scream. The devil must have tempted me. Had ten 
 tuns of dynamite been under the house, or a thousand pounds of nitro- 
 
22 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 glycerine, with a hundr^ hammers playing Yankee Doodje on the 
 
 cans, or any thing that was terrible, dire, 
 devastating, it could not equal the 
 shock that disturbed our house. Well, 
 Maria went to the hospital, and I wear 
 a wig." Again he sighed, and I did not 
 know how to comfort him. 
 
 "Yes, upon the whole," he said, " I 
 think I would rather have the Chinaman ; 
 they do not lead one into temptation, 
 and my hair is getting a good chance to 
 grow underneath the wig." 
 
 "My friend, you should have been a 
 moral man, like me." 
 
 " I was tempted by Satan, but my 
 wife is an exemplary woman; I only 
 got my deserts, for should I catch her kissing a young man, 
 there would be no need of hospitals or wigs ; a post-mortem would do 
 them." Again he sighed, and wringing my hand, wended his way to 
 his ^home. And I began to muse on the folly of men who neglected 
 their lawful wives who endured pain, anguish, and many times depri- 
 vation for them, to kiss the servant girl. Depend upon it, Oh, 
 foolish men, the servant girl whose lips are free to you, have been free 
 to every man before you, who has been honored by her presence in 
 his home. 
 
 Now, I am a moral man, yet I say that, to those of us who get up 
 early, as many of us do, either from choice or necessity, the "yesee," 
 "me no sabee," "belly good," in the harsh mongolian voice, and the 
 sickly yellow skin, is not as conducive to digestion as our kindly 
 mother tongue, and a rosy face and cleanly neck, surrounded by a 
 
 This is the Wig. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 2" 
 
 white collar. But my wife who is an angel, says : "There is but one 
 good man in the world, and each of us think we have him ; so, Pet, I 
 won't place temptation in your way." 
 
 "But, my dear, I'm a moral man, and not to be tempted." She 
 laughed lightly, but the China boy staid. I know my wife ; though 
 small, she has a large will of her own, and just enough devil in her — 
 as well as angel — that if I were to look once too often at the same 
 woman, let alone squeeze her hand or kiss her, that she would put 
 miles, aye leagues, nay even the briny deep between us, and go home 
 to her ma ! And who knows but she might leave me the nursing baby, 
 too? I took care of that young hopeful, once, for just one half hour, 
 while my wife went to a neighbor's to borrow a book. Shall I ever 
 forget it ? Never, no never ! I cannot describe in words what I suf- 
 fered ; no, it is buried down deep in my heart, and never do I want 
 even the memory of that half hour to be renewed, or even aroused 
 again. 
 
 "My love," I ventured to say once more, *'if you had a nice girl, 
 she would take care of the baby, then you could enjoy yourself so 
 much more." 
 
 But she shook her head, and her dark eyes sparkled merrily. 
 
 "Why, love, surely you don't think so little of yourself as to be jeal- 
 ous ? How could I think of any one else, while you are so pretty and 
 attractive.?" 
 
 "Well, I like my morning nap; I wouldn't care to have it disturbed 
 even by tantalizing thoughts." 
 
 *'What need would there be to be disturbed ?" 
 
 "Now, it is no use to talk, Pet. I know a little of human nature, 
 and I wouldn't want to be tempted too far myself." 
 i^ Good heaven ! what did she mean ? What a storm of virtuous indig- 
 nation I poured upon that devoted woman's head ! What ! could any 
 thing under the blue sky tempt her ? I was horror-struck. I, myself, 
 
24 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 knew enough of human nature, to be aware of the fact that some men 
 had their Httle weakness ; thank heaven not me ! But that a woman — 
 demure, sensible, sensitive little woman, should acknowledge to her 
 own lord and master, that she did not consider herself invulnerable to 
 all the temptations that all the world could bring against her, sent me 
 into a cold perspiration. When I could get breath from the exhaus- 
 tion produced by the severity of the rebuke I gave her, I said with 
 calmness and manly dignity : 
 
 "Oh, keep your Chinaman; but never let such words fall from 
 your lips again, Madame! " So the China boy remains till this day, 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 And this is what Kate's husband says. 
 
 WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR WIVES ? 
 
 "Only one hour a day, Pet," 
 
 "You have house, servant, and children to look after; that's 
 enough to occupy your time." 
 
 "There's only ladies in the class I want to join, and it's very cheap." 
 
 "Put such thoughts from your mind ; you have no time for painting 
 and such stuff." 
 
 The wife turned away with a sigh, and the husband went to his daily 
 occupfition. Now do you know that husband was a well, some- 
 thing that is best expressed by two dashes. 
 
 So the wife washes the baby, puts him to bed for his morning nap, 
 darns a pair of Pet's stockings, gives directions for dinner, and then — 
 well the da.y is so lovely and her hat so becoming, that she'll just take 
 a little walk down town. There she meets an old beau, for where one 
 is brought up, you know, there is always one or two old sweethearts 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 25 
 
 lying around. How strange ! He also has an errand on that very street, 
 so they walk and talk, and the time passes right merrily. So when she 
 goes home to her solitary lunch, she has something to occupy her 
 thoughts — not exactly what her husband wishes, still she is not lit- 
 tering the house up with her accomplishments ; and as he does not 
 know of her accidental walks and talks, he is all serene. 
 
 Now when I marry, my wife may make a brick yard of the kitchen, 
 and a paint shop of the parlor; but I'll keep her thoughts and heart to 
 myself, even at the price of seeing her Pet — that's your humble ser- 
 vant — reproduced in sickly looking plaster, or staring out of very open 
 eyes from a canvas, and the little Pets ditto. The first is easily 
 knocked down and smashed, and made fit for the ash barrel, or bro- 
 ken, so that she has a month's work to put it together again, and the 
 second soon can find its way to the garret. 
 
 We forget, we men, that while our lives are busy with a constant 
 variety, our wives' are an even monotone ; while we see a thousand 
 faces on the street or in the office, they see the baby's and the China 
 boy's, with perhaps a couple of callers during the week. Is it a won- 
 der that they chat with the butcher, the baker, the candle-stick maker, 
 and even the oysterman, for variety's sweet sake ? If we take away all 
 their intellectual employment, what shall they do ? When the house is 
 in order, the children attended to, the last borrowed book read, and 
 nothing to sew, whaf shall they do P They can't be making baby 
 clothes all the time, for but few of them have purses of their own, unless 
 they deal in stocks ; and you wouldn't like them to cut holes in your 
 best coat to have something to sew, would you, now .? They can't — 
 figuratively speaking — roll themselves up in leaves and spin their 
 lives out, like silk worms, for some one else's use, can they-f* I ktiow a 
 poor lady who occupies her time in constantly changing the position 
 of the furniture ; so her home is always in a muddle, and she has a far- 
 away, dreamy look in her eyes. Now if she only knew how to enlarge 
 her sphere of action, she might become a valuable member of society. 
 But her husband don't believe in woman's rights and won't tell her 
 what to do, so I suppose she'll continue changing the furniture till she 
 goes where there's no furniture to change. 
 
26 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 You don't come home till six o'clock, and the day is very long, and 
 sometimes very weary with nothing to do. Let her write, if only once 
 a year some paper condescends to accept an article, and most of her 
 beautiful thoughts become the property of the rag man at so much per 
 pound ; what of that ? It keeps her at home, and busy, and improves 
 her mind a little, if you care at all for that. 
 
 Now I have a friend who has a real charming little wife, whom he 
 leaves with a kiss at breakfast, when he don't forget it, and does not 
 see her again until six at night. He does not ask her what she has 
 been doing all day, or appear at all interested how she passes the time, 
 if the dinner is good and the house clean, all his buttons on, and no 
 holes in his stockings. He tells her a trifle of what is going on down 
 town ; not often until he is asked, though, and being tired, in a little 
 while he goes to bed ; and if friends call, they have to whisper out of 
 the window, to wait a moment as they are'just putting the children in 
 their little bed ; and such a hurrying and scurrying on of pants, boots 
 and petticoats as you never saw. 
 
 These are the Chi dren. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 27 
 
 Now, how can a woman be a companion and helpmeet to a man if 
 he won't let her ? — and he is. only a type of thousands of others--es- 
 pecially when they wish to deprive these poor women of everything 
 but housekeeping! Good gracious! she can't be thinking of something 
 to eat all the time, neither can she be constantly washing the little faces, 
 until the turn-up noses are red, and the eyes full of tears. Ah! but 
 she has one outlet — glorious, satisfying, piquant-gossip! Oh! woman's 
 friend! How many weary hours do you fill of that vapid life ? How 
 many a wrinkle do you prevent coming on that face, still young, that 
 otherwise would be brooding at home, fancying itself ill-used ? 
 
 All hail to thee, Gossip ! and thy kindly uses, hid from the eyes of 
 the vulgar many ; but revealed to those who need thee most ! 
 
 Well, then, what shall we do with our wives ? Give them plenty of 
 newspapers, and, books too, when you can afford them ; let them dab- 
 ble in paint, or mudddle in clay ; write poetry or prose ; go to the 
 matinee ; or, better still, take them at night — there is less temptation 
 to flirt. Don't always go to bed at eight o'clock, but play a game of 
 cards or chess, or bring home a friend once in a while to spend an 
 evening and break the, to you, monotony of seeing only one face for 
 a whole half hour. Tell her she looks nicely, when you see she has 
 tried to please you, and don't be praising somebody else before her 
 face. Remember she has feelings — if she did marry you. Treat her 
 a little as you wish to be treated yourself ; and don't forget to give her 
 some pocket-money, for how would we like to be constantly without a 
 cent in our purse, and not even a car ticket to pay for a ride ? 
 Yours in adversity, 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 And this is little Pet's — Morgan's wife's — secret. 
 
28 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 DARNING STOCKINGS. 
 
 "Sweet Rebecca, charming maid, 
 Darning stockings in the shade." 
 
 That's the way the poet has it. 
 
 Pouting wife all in a flury. 
 
 Darning stockings in a hurry. 
 
 Not darning in poetic shade, 
 
 But * darning ' all bad hose that's made. 
 
 That's the way we have it. Why will husbands persist in wearing 
 nails in the inside, instead of the outside of their boots? Why will 
 they endure the penance of Saint Somebody, who had to wear peas in 
 his shoes, just to give us poor wives the pleasant torture of mending 
 their stockings. It is so easily said: 
 
 ''There, — it, I've no clean stockings!" But a hole as big as 
 
 the top of your baby's head, is not so easily 
 mended, and if we do take the advantage 
 of mending the stockings with the smallest 
 holes first, it is not becoming a loving 
 ; husband to object to wear odd ones, even 
 if one is a little thicker than the other. 
 Can't they make a little concession to the 
 tender sex.? They grant it so often in politics 
 and business, to the opposite ditto. Or 
 why not petition the manufacturers to make 
 them all alike, except in size } Then you see we could throw away 
 the ones with the big, big holes, and not feel so guilty as we would 
 destroying a pair. 
 
 These are the Socks. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 29 
 
 "Sweet Rebecca!" Here we have a picture of a lovely girl, with 
 delicate white hands, and slender fingers, that never burned themselves 
 with pot or pan, or stove-lifter; her dress trim and pretty, her apron 
 white, not having wiped the bottom of hot dishes, to preserve the 
 purity of the table cloth. '' Charming maid!" Knowing not yet the 
 maternal occupation of attending to the wants of nine small children; 
 njne little faces to wash and heads to comb; eighteen little hands to 
 scour, and thirty-six little shoes and stockings to put on, lace and tie, 
 and eighty-one buttons to button. And this all expected to be done in 
 ten minutes and three-quarters. Ah ! innocent Rebecca, do not add 
 this experience too soon, but keep to your darning stockings in the 
 shade, with the sunlight just gilding your hair; the birds singing, the 
 sweet grass kissing your shoe. The work in your hand, perhaps your 
 own fair hose, that has lovingly encased your dear little foot and — leg 
 — or, 'tis perhaps a lover's sock knit by your fair hand, and 'tis but 
 pleasure to mend the slight abrasions caused by the pressure of his 
 loved, manly foot. Dream on, fair maid, till the reality of 
 
 Great big holes in stockings many, 
 
 Little time, and scarcely any 
 
 Inclination for the pastime. 
 
 Vowing each shall be the last time, 
 
 That you will spend your strength and time, 
 
 In darning socks not worth a dime. 
 
 With cotton coarse, and needle small, 
 
 That scarcely will go through at all; 
 
 More you pull, the more it tangles, 
 
 In your mind with words it jangles ; 
 
 When at last you stick your finger. 
 
 O'er that sock no more you'll linger. 
 
 Though I know 'tis very shocking, 
 
 You're apt to say "d — that stocking," 
 
30 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Awakes you, alas! it will come too soon, and with it, perhaps, a 
 frowsy head and slip-shod shoes, and a husband who reads the paper 
 at breakfast, and blacks his boots on the kitchen table! 
 This is no woman's secret, we only wish it was. 
 
 "DANIEL DERONDA." 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb's Opinion. 
 
 Book of many wishes! How I saved up my pennies, as it were, 
 to purchase it. When I read that the author had already received the 
 sum of eighty thousand dollars as royalty, the book being sold in 
 England in eight parts, at five shillings per part, the author receiving 
 one pound on each book sold, I hardly think such a thing was ever 
 heard of before. My desire to read it was even stronger a few days 
 after, ^when the sum reached two hundred thousand dollars and it was 
 still marching on, leaving every known writer far in the rear. I de- 
 termined, whether or no, to make Mr. "Deronda's" acquaintance — to 
 see him, talk with him, find out what was so wonderful about him, 
 that he should have taken the country, of dear books and not universal 
 reading, by storm. 
 
 'Twas night, and by the feeble light of a street car lamp I unwrap- 
 ped my little green and gold treasure. What did I care if my fellow 
 travelers thought I was trying to appear the pedant; what I had wished 
 for so long couldn't be enjoyed too soon. I passed my hand caress- 
 ingly over the neat binding, enjoying the sweet anticipation of what 
 was to come, a moment longer, then opened it. 
 
 *' Man can do nothing without the make-believe of a beginning. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 31 
 
 Even science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start with a make-be- 
 Heve unit, and must ^fix on a point in the stars' unceasing journey 
 when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time is at naught," 
 
 This is what first met my eyes, and it continued at some length in 
 the same style. " Ah! " I thought, " this is a book to improve one; 
 the headings are so fine — a little mj^stical and obtuse, requiring study, 
 but perhaps that is so much the better." Then I began the story. It 
 opens in a German gambling saloon; the heroine, Gwendolen, an 
 English girl, at one of the tables. Now, to me, there is something un- 
 natural and repulsive in a young girl, especially an English girl, as a 
 centre object in such a scene. I was disappointed, and the further 
 I read my disappointment did not decrease till I came to near the end 
 of the book. Vol. I. Gwendolen is unloving and unlovable. I 
 scarcely care what becomes of her. The description of her person 
 does not at all coincide with what she really is. I use the ego so 
 much because this is the opinion of but one person; as yet I have 
 met no one who has read the book, but those that have may consider 
 it " grand," as a lady told me she heard it was; but I shall take no 
 one's word and follow, as we are apt to do, either in art or books, 
 some one else's lead, as we did in childhood with " Follow my Lady 
 Tipsy Toe." I know I run " the risk of being considered conceited, 
 setting myself up, and everything that's disagreeable, if I have an 
 opinion of my own, and that opinion is different from that of the 
 many. But I never could say an Old Master was superb when I 
 thought it was hideous. 
 
 The first part of the book is very English, with the nobility, the 
 Archery meetings, and the grand parks. It does not come home to 
 the heart; that is why I cannot imagine how the book could have had 
 such a wonderful sale. 
 
 Her sketches of thought-life are very good, but often so deep and 
 complicated that they are about as easily understood as Greek or He- 
 
32 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 brew, to one who knows neither of these languages, and has only a 
 part of a dictionary to help them. 
 
 For instance, is not this hard to understand ? Is it not a Httle too 
 deep and far-fetched ? And the book is full of such : 
 
 "Yet how distinguish what our will may wisely save in its com- 
 pleteness from the heaping of cat-mummies and the expensive cult 
 of enshrined putrefactions?" 
 
 Every chapter, too, has a heading about as obtuse as this. 
 
 I thought a book to be popular must touch the universal heart, must 
 be so imbued with sympathy for suffering, must so scarify hypocrisy 
 and evil-doing that their hideousness would disgust rather than fas- 
 cinate ; or that some vital question of the present must be so pre- 
 sented and discussed, that we poor plodders would be shown the 
 right way, and helped up to a higher plane. But none of these ele- 
 ments struck me in my coveted book. When "Deronda " is fully 
 introduced, a little of human sympathy is aroused ; we can easily 
 think that something is going to happen between himself and 
 Gwendolen in the next volume, (which is not yet out.) But she must 
 prove very different from what she is at present for any one to care 
 very much ; for a woman who would deliberately marry a man who 
 has a left-handed wife, and several beautiful children, and is not only 
 warned, but sees them, and although she flies from him, the minute 
 poverty comes, she accepts him very complacently, with not a stir of 
 passion in her heart to justify her. Then, when she gets another 
 letter, just after her marriage, only telling her what she already knew, 
 she shrieks in terror, at her husband's approach, we consider her 
 not only a very foolish girl, but almost criminally weak. When Myrah 
 comes on the scene, together with the Mayricks, we begin to feel we 
 are with a human family again, somewhat like people we have known. 
 
 I expect to like the second volume very much more than the first, 
 
SICrEts told. SS 
 
 for I anticipated something so different, which not getting — human- 
 like — I would not be satisfied with, and perhaps did not appreciate 
 wh^at I did get. 
 
 FASHIONABLE. 
 
 Now, we like to be fashionable; we don't particularly mind the 
 stings and arrows that outrageous editors hurl against us, provided the 
 fashion becomes us. We know that the side views, or, to speak artisti- 
 cally, the profiles of some of our lady acquaintances were rather on the 
 comical order when the hair was worn high, and the hat on the 
 furthest top of the aforesaid, so we avoided the extreme of fashion, 
 although by doing so, we might as well have been out of world, 
 according to the old saying. So we thought we'd take an intermediate 
 position, somewhere between the earth and space, and wear our hair 
 not so high and our hat further on our head. How the ladies could 
 see each other at church and at the theatre, and observe the grotesque- 
 ness of the fashionable hair and head gear, then go and do likewise, 
 we never could tell, unless their idea was to te in the fashion if they 
 dyed for it, which they very soon diti, and now we have a race of 
 blondes. We rather liked that color, and begged our lord and master 
 to let us " blonde" a little; but his " no" was so stern and determined, 
 that being a little woman and weak we didn't dare to disobey. True, 
 we might have been like one pretty young lady here, who blonded so 
 much, or so suddenly that all her hair came out, and now she wears a 
 wig 1 Sic transit gloria mundi — or rather in this case — hair dye. 
 
 So we bought a military chapeau, that came well on our head and 
 was quite stylish, but rather large ; but we thought it was the hat 
 
34 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 of the city, till we got tired of it. Excuse the numerous ''we ;" but 
 little people always were the most conceited people in the world, 
 thinking their diminutive feidividuality equal to several of a large 
 growth. 
 
 Ah ! how well we remember our first pull-back ! We thought it the 
 smoothest, tightest of any yet out. What though we could only sit on 
 the extreme edge of the car seat, it made us an object of interest, and 
 we liked that, although our back did ache a little, and when we landed 
 our steps had to be very short and "pit-i-pat !" But what was our hor- 
 ror to discover .tighter and smoother ones than ours mincing along the 
 streets ; showing shape and avoirdupois, and all the graceful outline of 
 the female form divine! We went home and loosened that pull-back. If 
 we could not be first we would at least be comfortable. We know of but 
 one concession being made to a pull-back that was of benefit to the 
 wearer of aforesaid. A street-car conductor generously remitted tiie 
 fine — excuse us — didn't take the fare of a young person whose long 
 and tight P. B. would not allow her to get to her pocket, being en- 
 cumbered with a sleeping child. 
 
 What is the use of you gentlemen railing against the styles ; you 
 know you always do, no matter what they are ; and yet you like a lady 
 to be fashionable, and would rather take a dozen to the theatre dressed 
 in the extreme, than on^ attired in the fashion of a few years ago, when 
 an immense hoop was all the rage. Whew 1 how people would stare 
 at one now. 
 
 But the happy medium in fashions, as in most other things, is always 
 the best and most comfortable ; but it is not every one who has the 
 nerve to act for themselves. Cultivate your nerves, ladies, cultivate 
 them, and the result will help you along in this world wonderfully. 
 
 We know a young person whose husband invited her for a short 
 walk, and the minute she appeared on the street, where it would have 
 
 ^ 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 35 
 
 been rather inconvenient to have made a change of dress, he com- 
 plained of her attire, saying : 
 
 "You look like the Witch of Endor ! Is that the way you go down 
 town ?" She replied meekly, "I did not know you wished me to put on 
 my best, as we are only going on an errand to the 
 grocery. It would have taken me some little 
 time to do so ; this is the only shawl I have, and 
 it is quite cold." It was a red affair, with a huge 
 pattern, that he himself had bought her, her taste 
 rather revolting at it, at the time, she knowing it 
 would be the only one for the next ten years. 
 *'Then you should not complain of my clothes, 
 without putting your hand into your pocket and 
 giving me the wherewithal to buy better. One 
 cannot be fashionable on nothing." The smile 
 that spread over his face was childlike and bland, 
 and the discussion ended. 
 At another time ; 
 
 "Why can't you fix yourself as nicely as when Mrs. helped you ?" 
 
 This time it was the lady's face that had the smile childlike and bland, 
 for she knew the distinguished looking white veil, satin sacque, and 
 
 light kids belonged to the aforesaid Mrs. It seemed so strange to 
 
 her, that her husband should imagine ladies' finery dropped from the 
 clouds, color and fit adapted. Did he get his boots and trousers that 
 way, with maybe his tobacco thrown in ? It would seem that many 
 men do, for they are sarcastic and complaining, thinking, no doubt 
 that words and wishes will make garments, without the small items 
 of materials and dressmakers ; but it would be cool clothing for some 
 climates. Venus rising out of the sea is all very beautiful and clasical, 
 
 This is the Shawl. 
 
36 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 but would you like to see your dear little wife with only a petticoat of 
 the clinging drops of the briny deep, and a pull-back of the foam of 
 the mighty wave? Guess not, muchly. 
 This is what Frank's wife told me, 
 
 Hop-o*-My-Thumb. 
 
 A WOMAN'S EXPOSE OF THE MALE 
 HOUSE-KEEPER. 
 
 We send missionaries to the Fiji Islands; we send missionaries to 
 the black Africans; we even try to civilize poor Lo, yet we pass with 
 calm non-intervention the victim of worse than heathen barbarity, of 
 worse than Indian deviltry — the wife of the male house-keeper. How 
 tame these words to express her utter nonentity. ' Hidden in them lies 
 to the one who has "been there " a world of degradation and unhappi- 
 ness ! If a man only knew how his wife suffered mentally, physically 
 and in her very womanhood, by this detention of the household purse, 
 the coin will burn his heart as well as hand. 
 
 " My dear, have you not a grocery-book, and is our credit not good 
 at the butcher's? What can I do more? I'm sure the children's 
 clothes are warm, if they are plain." Thus he talketh and thinketh 
 he doeth his duty. 
 
 The milk man comes. 
 
 "When can you pay that little bill?" but as neither the grocer's 
 book, nor your credit at the butcher's, provides for this contingency, 
 you can only tell him to "call again;" so he continues to call till his 
 bill becomes long and his patience short; and if you get the money 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 37 
 
 any sooner than your husband thinks it right and proper he should 
 wait, you do it by absolute quarreling, and it is as grudgingly given as 
 if it were for the most useless luxury, as if he did not drink it in his 
 coffee, in his whisky and with his bread. - 
 
 Then John Chinaman brings home the necessary weekly linen. 
 
 " Pay next weekee, John." You can't always make John understand 
 this, and so are edified by several visits, till you talk the money out of 
 your husband in sheer desperation. The dry goods you can get at the 
 grocer's you are welcome to; but as that generally amounts to needles, 
 cotton and shirt buttons, with, may-be, hairpins and braid, your 
 chances for a Summer dress are t. t. — terribly thin — and you are told 
 you don't " fix up" like you did before your marriage, but the hand 
 never goes into the pocket to give you the wherewithal to obtain the 
 much desired end. You are twitted with not being stylish, and you 
 haven't seen a new dress for more than a year except on somebody else, 
 perhaps your " lady help," for she can dress in style, the male house- 
 keeper having to pay her whether stocks are up or down, or business 
 bad or good. Perhaps you take an economical fit and do the work, 
 your d. h. (that's '' dear husband") promises to pay you instead of the 
 aforesaid '"help" thereby saving the keep of one; but at the end of the 
 month he has forgotten his promise, and says he 
 
 can't afford it I 
 
 When the grocer has no needles, pins and stamps, you are in a 
 terrible fix. The **news" in your letters becomes "olds," lying on 
 the mantle-piece waiting for the portrait of the Father of his Country 
 to be affixed thereon, and as for pins, how are the young ladies to pin 
 up the holes in their stockings without them.? I've seen two do it, 
 and the other day a lady I know hunted ail over her five rooms on 
 hands and knees to find a needle to sew a button on her husband's shirt. 
 She spent an hour and a half of time and then only succeeded in 
 
38 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 finding a poor, miserable, crooked one that had never been lost, and 
 too small at that; so she had to take her fortune — twenty-five cents 
 that lay concealed in her best dress pocket — and sally forth to purchase 
 some. The tears nearly came to her eyes, to think that she had to 
 demonetize this huge piece of silver, the like of which she did not 
 expect soon to see again, except in broker's windows; but the hus- 
 band's buttons must be sewed on, if banks break! 
 
 "My dear, I must have some money ; there is no use talking." 
 "Oh, don't bother me about money. I'm sick of the subject." 
 
 "but the children's clothes — " 
 
 ' 'That'll do. I hate almost to come into the house." Then he 
 slams the door and goes and consoles himself at the corner, playing 
 for the cigars, and loses fifty cents to a dollar, and considers it nothing, 
 for it goes on the book ; and the end of the month is no better than 
 the beginning to the wife of the male house-keeper. The children go 
 in patched and repatched rags, and the wife wears her Winter bonnet 
 in the scorching July sun, till it makes her head ache. Women don't 
 like to ask and ask and ask for every little article of clothing, till they 
 feel as if they were the poorest and most importunate of beggars , so 
 they look dowdy, and their underclothes leave them by peacemeal, and 
 still the male housekeeper is blind. 'T buy so much better meat than 
 you do," he says, with pride, forgetting that if by chance he gives her 
 the market money, once in an age, he expects her to make it go twice 
 as far as he does. I know a gentleman who cannot make twenty-five 
 dollars a week keep his house, but is going to be generous and let his 
 wife try and do it with ten! No knocking down in that house for 
 pull-backs of five cent calico, or six-bit hats, or the unheard of luxury 
 of a Saturday matinee. It's pinch and contrive and hunt, but never 
 cajole. Most women are too proud, thank Heaven^ for that. The 
 male housekeeper is always the man who has 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 39 
 
 A GROCERY BOOK, 
 
 That curse of a small salary; that curse ta 
 economy; that precursor to the poor-house ! 
 Oh! why cannot these liquor-selling, gamb- 
 ling corner groceries be supressed! They 
 are the causes of more divorces, more sep- 
 arations, more female infidelities than all the 
 incompatibilities of temper the world over. 
 The Book. Men will not be warned till it is too late. A 
 
 lady friend of mine who, a few years ago, was living in loving happi- 
 ness with her husband, startled me with the news of her divorce. " It 
 began in the corner groceries," she said, and thousands can truthfully 
 say the same. Because a woman joins her destiny to a man from pure 
 love, leaving a happy home and loving friends, is it right, that after 
 the first three days he should shamefully neglect her for the miserable, 
 common trash that loaf about a corner grocery ? Is it right that she 
 shall stay in the house, not home, without her husband, alone and 
 silent, shedding bitter tears and thinking dangerous thoughts till 12, 
 till 1. nay, sometimes till 2 strikes from the ghostly clock ? When a 
 man has several small children, he knows his wife is so tied down that 
 she cannot resent his insulting indifference without outraging her 
 mother love, so he takes his cue accordingly, and neglects her to his 
 heart's content, not caring that she grows thin, and pale, and old, and 
 haggard ; not caring that she almost prays for death to release her from 
 the sufferings of a seemingly unloved wife. So the male housekeeper 
 keeps his grocery book and his butcher's book, and his house looks 
 neglected and poverty stricken— no pictures, no ornaments, no books, 
 he's sick of such nonsense — his children are poorly dressed, his wife 
 ditto, and he always in debt, paying more for what he gets, purchasing 
 what he cannot afford, treating old bummers to drinks and cigars, so 
 
40 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 generous, and still spends more than his wife would, making the house 
 
 bright and pleasant, herself and children lovable with pretty clothes, 
 
 and every bill paid — all to be a male housekeeper ! 
 
 Tiger 
 
 (In the cause of women). 
 Several women's secret. 
 
 THE WRONG WROUGHT BY A CORNER 
 
 GROCERY. 
 
 I never wrote an article for a paper in my life, but I have been 
 tempted many times to do so, and after carefully reading the article in 
 your Ladies' Column this morning, in regard to ''corner groceries" 
 and male "house-keepers," I made up my mind that for once, I would 
 say a few words thereto, indorsing every sentiment. I have been suf- 
 fering for fourteen years from the corner groceries, and if I had the 
 power to suppress the awful evil there should not one remain to tell 
 the story. In all these years I never possessed a pocket-book, never 
 bought an article of dress, never had a half or a quarter of a dollar 
 unless I earned it myself; and when I did receive my salary, it was 
 borrowed, but never returned in a single instance. I looked up to my 
 husband as the provider, and felt I must carefully keep the house in 
 order and do my work and sew for my family, and ask no questions. 
 Years bring experience, and a person, if he have any sense at all, 
 must see sometime that this is not the life intended by our Heavenly 
 Father for intelligent beings. The wife is never consulted, as she can- 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 41 
 
 not understand business. (There is truth in that, too; one-sided bus- 
 iness never suits an intelligent woman who lives to advance goodness, 
 charity and purifications of all evils that are ready to spring up in a 
 night). My belief of the married relation is, that if two are one by 
 Divine order, then one is the companion of the other, and not one the 
 servant and one the commander. Oh, how true it is in such a rela- 
 tion that the corner grocer's bill is the result ! I am one of many who 
 have had brown hairs prematurely sprinkled with gray, and wrinkles 
 deeply set before youth had fairly reached its maturity. My husband 
 could not afford to subscribe for a daily paper — at a salary of $150 
 per month — so he must necessarily go to the corner night after night. 
 
 This is the Corner Grocery. 
 
 Unsuspectingly I saw him go for years, and night after night I placed 
 my house in order and the little ones to rest, and when quiet reigned 
 I sat and sewed and mended, and thought how strangely different my 
 life was from what I expected it to be. I gave him all the love that a 
 
42 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 true woman had to bestow, and I think he loved me in his way, and 
 thought he was doing a husband's duty. But, oh, how it differed 
 from mine or any other true woman's idea of love and wifely treat- 
 ment ! The end came at last, and the result was the inevitable one, of 
 course — poverty and debt; and he escaped to a foreign land to die by 
 his own hand from remorse, leaving wife and children to the mercy of 
 creditors, and to bear the shame of years, of a past mis-spent in the 
 corner groceries, playing for drinks and cigars. I have not magnified 
 my wrongs; I could fill pages, but that would not suffice. This is a 
 subject that should not be dropped in one hour. Will not some one 
 continue to write with a pen of fire and place this awful evil in its true 
 light, and take up the thread that "Tiger" has laid down, and never 
 cease to tell all the evils attending the corner groceries and the card 
 table, and bars concealed behind the lattice door, the open sesame of 
 all family discord 1 Tigress. 
 
 This was written by some one unknown to the author, in answer to 
 the foregoing. 
 
 GEORGE'SWIFE'S OPINION ON BOOKS. 
 
 I was sitting in my office — you, no doubt, think by this time I need 
 a new bifurcated garment, sitting so much, but the fact is, a person 
 does not consume so much oxygen in this sedentary occupation, as 
 when exercising the pedestrian qualifications, and as free lunches ne- 
 cessitate ten to fifteen cent investments, and sometimes being out of 
 such small amounts — I sit, and button my coat up as tightly as possi- 
 ble, not having a belt to use as the Indians do, when their larder is 
 nihil — this is explanatory" merely, so I'll continue — thinking about the 
 
SECRETS TOLD. ,' 43 
 
 advisability of writing a triumphant ode, now that the election is over 
 and the country safe, but soon the sad fact occured to my mind, that 
 poetry is rarely paid for by newspaper men, and although it is the des- 
 sert after the feast of substantial facts, still they think the glorification 
 of seeing one's name in print is sufficient reward, when I was inter- 
 rupted by the agreeable sound of George's wife's footsteps. She is 
 always welcome, for her pleasant chat makes me forget, for the time, 
 my troubles; then, too, she does not come so often as to wear her 
 welcome out and also exhaust her conversational subjects. 
 
 "Come in, my dear," I cried, opening the door with alacrity. 
 
 "Uncle John, I'm so glad to see you! You are the only one to 
 whom I can go when I am in trouble or have a knotty point to settle; 
 and do you know I've made a discovery.?" she said, sinking into my 
 big leather chair, to which I had led her. 
 
 "A Discovery.?" I said, pulling up my paper collar, and running 
 my fingers through my hair. 
 
 "And I've come to talk with you about it while it is fresh in my 
 mind." 
 
 Visions of a splendid royalty in some grand beneficial invention, 
 which I should help put on the high road of success, flitted through 
 my mind, when Louisa again spoke. 
 
 "Yes, I've discovered, Uncle John, that all books are immoral!" — 
 
 I looked at the young thing in horror; was she losing her senses ? 
 
 "That is, most of them, and I've come to the conclusion that they 
 are not much of a success unless they are." 
 
 "Louisa!" I said, reprovingly, thinking that marriage must have had 
 a very bad effect on her. 
 
 "Oh! I don't mean with me, Uncle John, but with the great en- 
 lightened public. It seems strange too, for if we married women did 
 half the wicked things the pet heroines of the successful books do, 
 wouldn't the divorce courts be busy, and wouldn't the lawyers become 
 
44 secrets' told. 
 
 
 nabobs for wealth ! In France, of course, its different, if the stories told 
 of that delightful country are true. Why, I read of a certain Countess 
 who spent all her days in deeds of charity and missions of mercy, 
 the aspect of demure innocence, yet her nights were riotous with licen- 
 tious dissipation, she was the gayest of the gay and the wickedest of 
 the wicked, yet when she was ai rested she had dozens of offers of mar- 
 riage, some saw so much romance — I don't fancy they could see much . 
 to love — in the two lives of the beautiful fiend." 
 
 •'But that has nothing to do with books, my dear," I said gently, 
 trying to bring her back to the subject. ''Our own fireside Dickens, 
 you, of course, except him?" 
 
 "Indeed I don't. Let us begin at any of his most popular works, 
 say David Copperfield, for instance. There's little Em'ly; he had to 
 make her bad to render her interesting, no', bad in heart, but bad in 
 act, and poor Martha was a few steps lower down the ladder. Then 
 'Dombey and Son,' though Mrs. Dombey was not frail, still she was 
 a runaway wife. In this, too, he pictures a poorer sister, wretched 
 and bad, though handsome and interesting — unfortunate Alice. If 
 the heroine doesn't happen to be bad, then one of the principal per- 
 sonages must be, or the book is weak, lacks fire and so forth. Look 
 at beloved Goethe. I get so angry at him, especially in his affinity 
 piece, that I would like to read him a moral lecture, could he be in- 
 duced to appear at some circle or cabinet seance. Why, one would 
 think in reading him, I mean his writings, that it was absolutely ne- 
 cessary to become a married woman before one could have any power 
 to attract a lover. Then, too, what are the poor married folk to do if 
 they don't happen to be like Goethe people, both in love with some- 
 body else .'' Then the child part of the story, who looks like both the 
 outside lovers, I think rather too peculiar for good taste. But, then, 
 not to admire Goethe is heresy ! And to think Shakespeare is a vulgar 
 old — well, I don't know that he was so very old, but he is insufferably 
 
SECRETS TOLD, 45 
 
 vulgar in some of his plays. Look at his ^Measure for Measure^ for 
 instance; but, then, not to think him an earthly divinity is — oh, my! 
 — almost sacrilege. And, then, the Old Masters!" 
 
 " Louisa! " I held up a warning finger. Where was she going to 
 stop ? 
 
 *' Oh! don't stop me, Uncle John, for directly I am going to draw 
 a deduction. After all, novels are not much worse than real life. See 
 how your La Valieres and Montespans and Pompadours are handed 
 down to posterity, and even your Camilles and Cora Pearls." 
 
 ' ' Don't say mine, Louisa," I remonstrated. 
 
 " Oh! when I say ' yours,' Uncle John, I am letting you represent 
 the world; but for you, individually, you know I think you a model. 
 But the deduction I was going to make — thinking over all I've read, 
 good, bad and indifferent, translations from popular French works, 
 the chaste opera-bouffe, the lives of most monarchs, and the sweet 
 society divorce drama — was this, that the reading of such things, and 
 it seems to be the bulk of what is popular, tended strongly to make a 
 young girl, or even a married woman, think she must be a little fast, 
 if not worse, to be anybody at all ; and to make the men not only 
 think of following the example set them in books, but to try and far 
 excel their prototypes." I was struck dumb, and as she paused I 
 knew not what to say, for I knew that George's wife was telling — alas ! 
 only the truth. 
 
 "Well, Uncle John, can't you propose a remedy.?" 
 
 * 'A — hem ! I — I — did you ever read metaphysics, or study botany, 
 or geology, or astronomy, or — '' 
 
 " Uncle John, Pope says, ' The study of mankind is man/ and 
 that's what I'm studying ; but I should like to discover something to 
 better them — and — yes — I think I would tell it to George.'' 
 
 I smiled quietly, thinking that that same George was the keystone 
 of much of this young lady's homily. 
 
46 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 *' Uncle John, outside of the great immorahty of so much that is 
 written, isn't there a great deal that is ridiculous — the so-called 'funny- 
 men' and some of the dramatic critics ? I have seen some of them, 
 with their litde pasteboard passports from their papers, with their long 
 hair and cadaverous faces, that looked as if they hadn't square meals 
 enough to supply both bodily and mental food ; and then those ex- 
 pressive-eyed ones, especially when they wear petticoats, how vicious 
 they can be ; they can sting like a gnat, or an ant, or a flea ; or if a 
 little jealousy (woman-like) is allowed to influence their judgment, 
 how spiteful they can be ; then those handsome fellows, who think, 
 like the Pope, that their judgment is infallible, don't they know that 
 they are not the whole public, but only an infinitesimally small part — 
 and not the paying part, either — and that they scarcely represent the 
 opinion of more than their beautiful selves. They forget that they are 
 blase^ having seen the Keans and Macreadys and Forrests, and per- 
 haps the great Siddons ; but as these people can't come to life again, 
 even for the sake of comparison, and thus this generation has to be 
 contented with the living people of to-day, and that, though they have 
 seen everything, most of the other people have not, and can see beauties 
 in what they have grown too callous to appreciate. Young bloody 
 Uncle John, is what is needed in the critics of to-day ; not those who 
 have known, seen and enjoyed everything, so are almost worn out and 
 surfeited with the pleasures of this world." 
 
 *' Louisa ! Louisa ! Where will your tongue lead you?" 
 
 "Uncle John, I've not been out of the house for two weeks, so I'm 
 dying to talk. The only call I've had was Mrs. Jones, who told me 
 no end of how to make old dresses into new ones, costing more in 
 the end than buying them right out, and as George has not given me 
 any money lately, her visit was not interesting. Oh ! Uncle John, do 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 47 
 
 come home with me to lunch, I'm so desperately lonely it would be 
 doing a charitable deed." 
 
 So I thought, and went. 
 
 More anon. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE. 
 
 ''Oh! I remember, it is New Year's Day. The last brought many 
 ; changes. This day twelve-months ! Ah ! Nanine those days are gone 
 — the day that brings new life to -every heart." 
 
 So said poor Camille, as she lay dying, neglected and alone. Only 
 
 poor Gaston, at whom she used to laugh, smoothing her pillow, and 
 
 Nanine the faithful servant, her only friend. Yet for poor, poor 
 
 Camilla's few brilliant years of gilded sin, how many go to a wretched, 
 
 ', degraded grave, forgotten before the grass springs above their coffin- 
 
 lid, thousands following, seeing no lesson in the short, erratic Ufe, the 
 
 poison or the dark, unpi tying water, that opens to them the gates 
 
 ; leading to the Shadowy Valley, not heeding the poor girl's dying words: 
 
 *'It is wise, it is well, it is Jus// I have been guilty ! Living, the 
 
 memory of that guilt would haunt me like a spectre, darkening, with 
 
 its fearful shadow, my passage to the close !'' 
 
 And we wonder and wonder, how can such things be ! 
 
 Across the street, in a great city, in a fine, clean, quiet-looking 
 
 ' house, lived two women, with plenty of servants, elegant clothes, a 
 
 ■ carriage at their command and nothing to do, but the world said they 
 
 were /as/, that their lovers bid them good-bye early in the morning, 
 
 ashamed for even the daylight to know their hiding-places. Opposite 
 
48 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 lived a pretty, ignorant young girl, lazy, slovenly, sometimes almos 
 lacking food, a mother of whom she was only just a natural copy. 
 She looked with envy at the elegant females across the street, as they 
 dashed away in the fine carriage, the stout, respectful n egress servant 
 admiringly waiting to see them off. No word of warning uttered in her 
 ear, no picture of the white-robed ghost stealing through the narrow, 
 dimly-lighted streets, to prey upon some wretch, disgusting and re- 
 pugnant to the lowest semblance of woman, only for her daily bread ; 
 nothing but the bright side presented to her \iew, can one wonder that 
 she falls? % 
 
 That the one more unfortunate is not multiplied a thousand-fold is 
 the greatest wonder when one looks beneath the surface of the world's 
 sufferers. The world's workers are not the ones who fall ; it is the 
 romantic, the lazy, the disappointed, the betrayed. It is not the girl 
 with the stout heart and courage enough to work for her living, even 
 if it is at a despised factory, sewing shoes or binding books, or at the 
 thousand and one occupations now open to women ; it is not the 
 happy, cherished daughter, whose mind is filled with household duties, 
 helping mother, or reading well selected books, with a natural love 
 for the litde sisters and brothers — lending them the assistance remem- 
 bered so well in after years, so needed in their studies and in their 
 play — with taste cultivated (if only to sing a simple ballad, or sketch in 
 pencil), whose mind is occupied, leaving no room for foolish vanity, 
 that too often leads to crime. 
 
 It is not the loved wife, whose husband thinks it not unmanly to 
 love his home, to take the baby on his knee, to relieve his companion 
 of a little of the care that falls to the lot of the happiest wife and 
 mother, who is not ashamed to walk with his wife and little ones, 
 knowing how they enjoy it, even if he does help to draw the Httle 
 wagon. 
 
 It is not these, whose prayers should rise, morning and night, thank- 
 
SECRETS TOLD. . 49 
 
 ing God for their happiness — it is not these who are picked from 
 the dark waters of the river, or, on the tables of the Morgue^ make a 
 pitiful show for the unpitying. 
 
 It is the poor, weak girl, with little to do, whose mind is vitiated by 
 bad books, whose home is unhappy, whose idleness gives Satan his 
 best chance ; or the selfish, lazy one, who thinks it better to be well 
 dressed and bad — " others are " — than a drudge and virtuous. It is 
 the disappointed, neglected wife, still young, still pretty, still romantic, 
 who feels so keenly the difference between her home, where she re- 
 ceived so much attention, the many friends, the suitors, who were so 
 eager for her smiles ; and the quiet, quiet house, where the ticking 
 of the clock is the only voice to break the stillness far into the nio-ht 
 where she can sob in vain for the presence of the one who vowed to 
 cherish her, but who, too soon, alas, thinks it unmanly to be tied to a 
 woman's apron string; who goes back to the pastimes of his bachelor- 
 hood, forgetful, or not caring that at home is a sorrowful, waitino- 
 woman, who endures neglect and loneHness till endurance is a torture 
 and revengeful, bitter feelings makes her a fit prey for the Evil One 
 
 and then . But the husband is pitied and can easily get another 
 
 victim wife. For her there is no return. Yet God will pity ! God 
 will read her poor heart ; God will know her loneliness, her life un- 
 warmed by sympathy, till wedded love seeming .quite a fable, drove her 
 into sin. 
 
 For bread, a few sell themselves, till they have sunk to the lowest 
 depths; then the gravels yawning for them grim and horrible. 
 
 For love, many die: some with a rash bold hand quickly ending life 
 and pain; others, slowly dying a thousand deaths, pierced as with dag- 
 ger thrusts by constant pain, cool looks, unkind words, agonies^of 
 mind not translatable by v/ords, until faith in man's love is nearly gone. 
 
 It is the betrayed, the poor girl who loves too well, and, judging 
 by her own true heart, trusts to vows that are only from the lips. Alas! 
 
50 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 alas! poor child, if the pitying waters do not claim thee, Call from thy 
 heart for God's great mercy, the streets are apt to be thy home, where, 
 wandering like a restless ghost, sin is met on every side, and Heaven 
 seems so far away; you fear to look upon the stars, lest their pure 
 light remind you of your days of innocence, when you could kiss 
 your mother without a blush, and say "Our Father" with a thankful 
 heart. 
 
 It is not too late, dear sisters; God's mercy is for us all; remember 
 the joy in Heaven over the one that repenteth; remember, to suffer is 
 the portion allotted to us all, even the happiest and most fortunate of 
 earth's children; then, do not despair; a little progress every day, a 
 little softening of your heart, a little prayer to God for strength and 
 mercy, and life will look more beautiful and Heaven so near that you 
 will not fear to knock upon the pearly gates, when the last day comes, 
 lest an angry Father drives you hence; but trusting to His tender 
 love, seek Him, as a penitent child, sorrowing, seeks his father's arms. 
 
 Dear sisters, let this beautiful, beautiful New Year be a harbinger of 
 hope to your sad hearts; let the next year find you purer, truer in your 
 lives, and in your hearts nearer unto God. 
 
 Belle's thoughts. 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
 TOO EARLY MARRIAGE. 
 
 Almost the first use of the mental development that a girl has attained 
 at school, when she leaves it perfected and accomplished, is to secure 
 a good husband. If she is cold and heartless, it will be done in a 
 mercantile manner, the desirability of the gentleman's worldly posi- 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 51 
 
 tion being alone considered ; if she is weak and sentimental, nothing 
 is considered, her ardent fancy changing the most common-place per- 
 son into a hero. The mind and heart of no girl who has just left 
 school is sufficiently matured to select a proper companion for life's 
 journey — the union that will secure happiness to both. Marriages of 
 convenience are at the best but shameless bartering of bodies, to the 
 eternal detriment of souls. Hasty, romantic unions should be con- 
 sidered with great caution, for the permanent happiness of one is only 
 the exception to the general rule of misery to the many. 
 
 When a girl leaves school she -should be allowed and encouraged to 
 see something of the world and mankind. She should be taught 
 that every man who can turn a pretty compliment and wears good 
 clothes is not necessarily the one being of all the world created to 
 bring her happiness. She should be told there are many millions of 
 men in the world, and that the first offer is not of a certainty the last, 
 and that nothing is lost by a reasonable waiting. The father or mother 
 who shows by word or act that they are anxious to get their daughter 
 or their daughters off their hands does not appreciate, and is not 
 faithful to their sacred trust. They should rather be earnest in their 
 endeavors to keep their child in the tender circle of home as long as 
 possible, or at least till a suitor come whom they can reasonably ex- 
 pect to make their daughter happy, for that is the one consideration in 
 marriage above weahh, position, intellect or beauty. The parents 
 should discuss the suitor from every point, sensibly, and even rather 
 leniently, with the girl — not, if they dislike him, showing it in every 
 word, for then she will think they are prejudiced and marry him out of 
 pique and pity — but cooly, critically showing the chances of happiness 
 and misery the wife of such a man would have, and what they would 
 be in such a union as she ought to endeavor to make. 
 
 The practice of calling a girl an "old maid" almost before she is 
 out of her teens, is both silly and injurious, causing them sometimes to 
 
52 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 accept those they would otherwise peremptorily decline, only for fear 
 of those en/ants terrible^ the chipper girls of sixteen, twitting them 
 with old maidism. They should be taught — not all at once, but from 
 their childhood up — that twenty-five is a much more sensible age than 
 the teens in which to take upon themselves the duties and responsi- 
 bilities of married life, and affords a far better chance for the happi- 
 ness of all concerned. 
 
 How often does the young Tvife return to her mother's house, some- 
 times with her little ones, for long visits, to board or to stay till death ! 
 She has left the home-nest too soon; she has made a mistake that per- 
 haps can not be remedied in this world. And the husband should not 
 be ignored, for he is human, the same as the wife, and suffers also, 
 though perhaps not as iniensely. A girl in her teens is not physically 
 able properly to endure the care, trials and dignity of motherhood. 
 The sleepless nights, the anxious watching in times of sickness, the 
 unusual confinement from fresh air and sunshine — these tell on her 
 undeveloped constitution, making her prematurely old. She is too 
 young to exercise discretion in the humoring or not humoring the 
 wishes and whims of her husband; too young to understand the ben- 
 efit of curbing her own temper so as to properly train her husband 
 and children. She is too young to hold the reins of government, 
 even of a small household, with a firm hand, and to preside over it 
 with dignity. Therefore, let her wait till a few years have developed 
 the necessary requisites for her to become a happy wife, and then the 
 suitable husband is easily found. 
 
 Mary says this. 
 
 Hop-O'-My-Thumb. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 53 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 I am what is impolitely termed an ''Old Bach." and, am rather 
 scarce of the capillary growth necessary for an ornament for our kind 
 red brother's wampum belt — in fact, I am a little bald, and that is the 
 reason, I suppose, why the ladies confide in me — making me a re- 
 pository for their hearts' little secrets. 
 
 It was only a few weeks since one young thing came to me and said : 
 
 "Oh, Uncle John, my heart is broken," and she grasped my 
 hands so tightly that I could not even stroke her shining hair. 
 
 "What is the matter, little one.?" I asked. 
 
 " My husband, my husband — " here she broke down and began to 
 cry. 
 
 " The brute! — he has not dared to strike you.?" 
 
 " Worse than that — a thousand times worse!" 
 
 Now I felt my blood rise. Here was a young thing, not eighteen, 
 pretty and not married one short year, and was already crying about 
 her husband's ill-treatment. I bared my arms, and felt as if the strength, 
 of Hercules was coming back into the diminished muscles, and that 
 I could fight that man. Then I thought it was well to be prudent in 
 everything, so I said: 
 
 ''But tell me, little girl, what has he done ?" 
 
 * ' Why — why, last night he — he went to see the Living Pictures, and 
 Hked them!" and with a burst of grief she threw herself into my arms. 
 How could I console such grief as this ? I tried all sorts of common- 
 places, but it would not answer. 
 
 "You know I thought fny husband never looked at another woman, 
 
64 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 and — and I was so proud, and bragged to my lady friends, and smiled 
 
 in pity when I heard that Mr. had kissed the hired girl; but she 
 
 did have clothes on — at least, I suppose so; but these Living Pictures 
 haven't got a thing on them, but tights and a bit of gauze. So he told 
 me with his own lips. Oh, dear! oh, dear!'' and the poor child 
 rocked herself and moaned, till my eyes were filled with tears, and I 
 thought what a fool a man was, with a pretty, interesting wife, who 
 looked up to him as the ideal man of all the world, to kill her faith in 
 him, to render her suspicious on every occasion of his being at the 
 " Lodge," for fear he wasn't — all for the sake of seeing a few brazen 
 women in tights! 
 
 "If he had said he wanted to see some living pictures, I would 
 have been a living picture myself, and the seventy-five cents would 
 have bought me a new necktie. But I see what it is: he is tired of 
 me, and wants to see other women. Oh! I wish I had never married! 
 Could I get a divorce for this.!*" 
 
 I told her I hardly thought she could, although it was provocation 
 enough. Then, after petting her to quiet her, she arose to go. 
 
 " But Pll be revenged. I'll go and flirt with my old beau, Harry; I 
 wish I had married him!" And she left me to ponder on the dis- 
 appointments of this life. What age is free from them? From our 
 earliest infancy, when we fondly imagine the half-pint bottle is inex- 
 haustible, and wake to find we are only imbibing air, the bitter expe- 
 rience begins; it continues as later on we strive to grasp the pretty 
 flaming candle, and, alas, get only burnt fingers for our pains. 
 
 How I could moralize on this! For do not we men — myself ex- 
 cluded — go after just such dangerous, delusive pleasures and with the 
 same results ? But I am the ladies' confidante. My own sex I ignore 
 for they have long ago disgusted me. Oh ! I could a tale unfold, as 
 the ghost says, so full of horror, deceit, dreadful wickedness, that my 
 dear female friends would remain in single-blessedness forever sooner 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 55 
 
 than trust their happiness in the keeping of that vile creature we call 
 a man. Perhaps you think that disappointment and the world's rough 
 usage has made me a morbid ascetic, seeing things through green 
 spectacles; but I scorn the imputation. My information is gleaned 
 from my dear confidantes, who think me harmless as a wooden image, 
 because my hair is scant and my teeth are out. 
 
 It was not long ago, one of the dear creatures met me on the street, 
 and shaking my two hands warmly, said : 
 
 **0h, Uncle John, I'm so glad to see yon. I want your advice. 
 Have you been to lunch.?" 
 
 On my reply in the negative, she cried: 
 
 "Then come along with me, for I am dreadfully hungry!" and she 
 conducted me into a cosy little retreat, where lace curtains shut us out 
 from the vulgar gaze of still hungrier mortals. She ordered a broiled 
 beefsteak, with a coal on it, an omelette, some potatoes (in a delicious 
 style, to me unknown,) and coffee. I said I would take the same, re- 
 lying on her exquisite taste. And as we ate she talked. 
 
 "Oh! Uncle John, I'm so disappointed in my husband." 
 
 Ah! this was coming to the point, in a quick, business-like way. 
 
 " You don't mean to say so?" I replied, surprised and sympathizing. 
 
 "Yes. I've been married — let me see; it seems like six years, but 
 it's only six months Well, George said he didn't drink, chew nor 
 swear. Of course, I didn't mind him smoking those exquisite little 
 cigars he likes. Would you believe it ? — two months ago he came 
 home late at night — it was 11 o'clock — and — I do believe he was 
 tight! He said he wasn't; that he didn't feel well, and had taken a little 
 ginger. But it didn't perfume like ginger one bit, and I nearly cried 
 my eyes out. I told him I'd go back to ma's, and he only laughed. 
 Then, I soon discovered he chewed horrid tobacco, like the big, ugly 
 men — and he so handsome! Then, yesterday, because he found a 
 
66 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 paltry button off his shirt, he said, 'Damn it!' and threw the shirt on 
 the floor." 
 
 She looked as if she would cry, but she did not stop eating. I was 
 glad of it, for she needed all the strength to be got from nutritious food 
 to bear up under such brutality. 
 
 "Well, my dear," I began, "you should not have married a man 
 with the idea he was an angel ! Did none of your experienced lady 
 friends inform you that men were not altogether to be relied on, and 
 that their habits were not quite as refined as a young girl's .''" 
 
 " But, Uncle John, George was so sweet; why half the girls I knew 
 were in love with him. He had the dearest little moustache — and to 
 think that it should be stained with that horrid — but that isn't all; he 
 he has joined the Lodge, and the Sons of something, and always has 
 so much business with them that I hardly have his company one even- 
 ing a week. When I was single he wanted to come twice a day, but 
 ma wouldn't let him. Why I should be so much less attractive be- 
 cause I happen to marry him, I can't see, for if I had taken Ned — 
 I almost wished I had — he said he would blow his brains out, and that 
 he would never cease to love me. According to this, it is better to marry 
 a man you don't care for, so that the one you do love shall always care 
 for you. " 
 
 " Why, you are quite a little philosopher! Yes, I have heard that 
 men care sometimes more for some one else's wife than they do for 
 their own. But in your case, I shouldn't think that possible. In- 
 dulge him a little; don't let him see tears. Men like them well enough 
 in a lady-love, but in a wife — well, they drive the husband out of doors, 
 and then you don't know what he does. Be cheerful; give him a cus- 
 pador in each room; and if he will drink Boca, get a pitcher of it for 
 dinner and drink it with him. Ask him if you can join the Lady 
 Grangers, or the Sorosis, or something exclusively feminine; tell him 
 if he can't take you, Ned will be only too happy to do so. Work a 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 57 
 
 little on his jealousy; not too much; just keep up his interest in you. 
 Let him see you are not unattractive to all others, and always look 
 pretty, and good tempered, and I think he won't be such a fool as to 
 neglect the good he has for unknown and dangerous attraction. " 
 
 The young puss smiled. 
 
 " I did think of seeing about a divorce, but I guess I'll try George 
 a few months more. Oh, Uncle John, if the men were all like you! 
 But you are an angel !" 
 
 And this poor child is only one of millions like her. 
 
 Hop-o' My-Thumb. 
 
 This is George's wife's secret. 
 
 WOMAN-PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE. 
 
 I stand up in defence of my sex. I stand up to hurl the gauntlet 
 of defiance into the face of that old octogenarian, the London Satur- 
 day Review. 
 
 I stand up to defy the writers, young and old, rich and poor, male 
 or female, who wilfully and with malice-aforethought, villify the Pres- 
 ent Woman. 
 
 Even my friend, the magnificent Alia — stop, let me think; no, it 
 was the not so magnificent Saturday's Post — gave a column and a half 
 of back-handed slaps, at our devoted sex. 
 
 All these writers whine regretfully over what the sex was, deprecate 
 what it is, and look with fearful foreboding to what it will be. 
 
 The blushing, drooping modesty of a century ago was well enough 
 for feudal days and feudal castles, when the faintest shriek from fair 
 lips would summon a dozen knights errant and cavaliers to the dis- 
 
68 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 tressed one's side; when a woman was only expected to look pretty 
 and work embroidery; when mead ran in the cellar, and whole car- 
 casses of beef hung in the pantry; when nothing more serious than 
 the Troubadour's latest song occupied the fair one's mind; then, in- 
 deed, the blushing, drooping modesty that the octogenarian, the Posty 
 and the little fish bewail, was the fitting and expected characteristic 
 of the sex that then dared hardly raise their eyes to the faces of their 
 lords. 
 
 But in this rushing, bustling world, a woman is considered as good 
 as another man, to fight the battle of life, but not to have quite as 
 good a right. 
 
 Why, I've seen a little woman just out of a sick bed, and not tall 
 enough to reach the strap, stand during a long ride in a street car; 
 she had as much right to stand as a healthy man, and she did. Her 
 blushing, or rather pale modesty didn't help her much. I've seen 
 these delicate creatures — whom the writers of the day deplore as hav- 
 ing lost the blushing aforesaid — nearly pushed into the gutter, to make 
 way for a strong man; they had just as good a right to get their 
 dainty feet muddy as he; in fact I've felt the hard elbows in my own 
 side, and never even pushed back in retaliation, but I've ground my 
 teeth, and thought naughty things. 
 
 I'ts all very pretty to read about this drooping modesty, and occa- 
 sionally would light up well as a picture, with damask and lace cur- 
 tains as a background, and a hanging lamp and handsome young man 
 as auxiliaries, but for practical use in this work-a-day world, we want 
 just such women as we have got — hard-headed and hard-handed, too, 
 sometimes, with a dogged determination to hold their own, even 
 against a thousand male competitors. 
 
 I will tell you some facts to support my arguments. In Philadelphia 
 in the year 187-, there were two lady engravers, and but two who 
 made it a profession, so I was told, in the whole city. One of them 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 69 
 
 I knew; she worked for years, illustrating Godey's Lady's Book, and 
 her work was as good as that in any cotemporary magazine; but the 
 male engravers — I will not call them men— determined that those 
 two women should not be competitors even if they had to do the 
 work for that magazine for nothing; so they underbid and underbid 
 them, till at last they got their wish, and years of faithful service was 
 forgotten in that goodly city, because the stronger sex wanted no 
 women rivals, so would work cheaper — at least till they got rid of them. 
 
 Then again, one of these ladies was for years the teacher of en- 
 graving in a School of Design. A man came and offered to teach for 
 nothing; magnanimous creature ! and the female — shaming her sex — 
 who conducted the establishment, accepted the offer. How long he 
 taught for nothing after this gallant action is not hard to surmise. 
 
 Will the London Saturday Review, and the thousand and one other 
 howlers, please tell us what retiring, modest simplicity would have 
 accomplished in these cases? Perhaps a deluge of tears, or a few 
 fainting fits would have softened these male creatures' hearts, and the 
 weak sisters would have been permitted to earn their own living in 
 peace ; but we doubt it. And such are the people and circumstances 
 women have daily to encounter in this weary struggle for existence Is 
 it not enough to rub the blush and bloom off beauty's cheek, to harden 
 the native delicacy of her feelings, to make her try to educate herself 
 as man to meet man ? 
 
 This is all very well, you may think, for the working class; but this 
 is a great class. Watch the streets of a large city at 6 P. M., near the 
 manufactories, and you will be surprised to see the crowds of girls 
 and women, with their little baskets and bundles ; then there are thou- 
 sands who do not go in crowds, from the photograph galleries, the 
 counters, the school rooms, the theatres, the printing offices, the opera 
 singers, the servant girls, and our poor, poor, despised saloon waiters 
 and singers. 
 
60 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 One-half of this vast army has been as dehcately brought up as the 
 blushing-modesty people could wish, but they soon find that actual life 
 is somewhat different from romance, and that the Don Quixotes are, 
 alas ! all dead ; that the prizes are for those that can battle the hardest, 
 and not for the retiring, easily vanquished woman. Is it a wonder, 
 then, that their air is a little more defiant than may be desirable, or 
 their voice a shade louder, or their lives more independent } 
 
 I despise the girl or woman who is always looking out for an insult, 
 and can make a double entendre of ever)^ little joke that's uttered. I've 
 seen such ; these are the horse-whipping, cow-hiding kind. I've seen 
 that, too, in one of the largest eastern theatres, where the women 
 screamed, " Don't let him hit her," when the " he" apparently had no 
 intention of doing anything but holding the infuriated woman's arms. 
 I thought her blushing-modesty deserved a right smart beating in re- 
 turn. 
 
 I've heard of the blushing kind replying to the remarks of strangers 
 and then when one shows pretty plainly what he thinks she is, she is 
 indignant and calls on her big brother, or avenges her own honor in 
 some public place. Had she walked on, with her eyes before her, 
 attending to her own affairs, in a sensible, business-like way, not trying 
 the game of drooping eyelids and faltering footsteps, to be admired as 
 so unsophisticated ! she could go through the world without one insult, 
 or many occasions to do blushing either. 
 
 We want to know where the women of to-day have so deteriorated 
 that all these cries should be raised against them; can't they do as 
 much as they ever did } Aye, a thousand times more ! Look how many 
 women support their families, or help their husbands to do so, or pro- 
 vide for a mother, or dependent little sisters and brothers ! in so many 
 different branches of industry, too, that a few years ago were sealed 
 books to women. 
 
 Letters from the great Exposition tells of some good inventions 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 61 
 
 emanating from female brains. One, a fire-proof building material, 
 which if it be all that is claimed, will prove a valuable epoch in the 
 world's history. In our own little fair here, women made their pre- 
 sence known with their sweet tar drops, and their hair restorer; and 
 who will deny the palm to a woman for the boon of all boons— at 
 least most married men think so — Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup ? 
 How many a night would the masculine rest be brokeuj the peaceful 
 dreams annihilated, the morning nap disturbed, had not kind Provi- 
 dence permitted the woman Winslow to be born and bred. 
 
 Education, too, is more universal than it ever was before; and as 
 for the modesty in dress, no one who looks at a lady's magazine of 
 fifty or sixty years ago, will pretend that our dear ancestors set us an 
 example that could be followed without the greatest scandal in these — 
 according to their cry — degraded days. A petticoat or gown of the 
 scantiest pattern, showing foot, ankle, shape and bosom; a net work 
 of pearls or gold braid covering the whole, until the extravagance was 
 prohibited by a decree from the throne. I've seen the book — tiny 
 slippers, long white gloves, a few short fleecy curls, and a lady was in 
 full dress for court or ball. 
 
 And they cry, too, so much about a woman's make up; this is of 
 nonsense the very sheerest. In the car the other day, of all the 
 women there, some eight or more, I could almost take my — I was 
 going to swear! oh, my! — that not one was the least made up by pad 
 or bustle, hair or jute, paint or powder, except the little that perhaps 
 remained on my face, and that the great majority of women are like- 
 wise as nature made them. 
 
 Those that are made up, what does it amount to? A little cotton 
 where nature has been illiberal, a newspaper to give the dress a proper 
 set, and a little powder to soften the effect of tan or freckles. There 
 are a few exceptions to the rule, of course, but not enough to warrant 
 the conclusion that we are all going headlong to the — . 
 
62 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 These very croakers would smile sweeter, and raise their hats higher 
 to a pretty woman, even if they knew that art helped to make her a 
 joy forever, than they would to a rusty, dusty simplicity, with a drooping 
 head and a giggle. 
 
 I can imagine drooping, blushing modesty changed into a wife of 
 to-day; after the first three weeks her husband would tell her she was 
 a fool to be so sensitive, and not to blush whenever a person looked 
 at her, as if she was ashamed of herself; and ten to one she would have 
 to gird up her loins for a good day's washing before many months 
 were over, if she hadn't the spirit to say "I shan't!" and stick to it. 
 
 I don't depreciate modesty, mind me, but maintain that the women 
 of the present day are as modest as is necessary to good sense — in fact 
 as modest as they ever were. 
 
 Helen's opinion. 
 
 A PLEA FOR LAZINESS. 
 
 Laziness, all hail! thou fat, innocent goddess, to whom people 
 give no credit of good performed of any kind; let me defend thee, 
 not as an advocate, only to show thy uses and abuses in a clear, dis- 
 passionate way. 
 
 Let us begin at the beginning. 
 
 The baby in its innocent infancy is by no manner of means a lazy 
 atom of humanity; yet what does it accomplish? If its perpetual 
 force of lung and limb could be put to some purpose, the motive 
 power of many a mill and factory could be had without steam — a 
 thought — could it not be utilized to grind the matutinal coffee, or to 
 turn a handle, and polish the paternal boot? But I digress. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 63 
 
 Who does not shrink from the stinging remark: " This is aiazy 
 thing!" Yet who is it that becomes fat and fair at forty? Why, the 
 lazy female, to be sure, who sits at the window with folded hands, and 
 watches the moving crowds in the streets, who goes to bed early and 
 has a good, long, morning nap. 
 
 People often call it a clear conscience when one can nap, morning, 
 noon and night, but the real name is laziness, pleasent to the practicer, 
 but sometimes very selfish, and inconvenient to others. 
 
 It's nice to have a clear conscience, and sleep so sound that the 
 baby's screams don't wake you, nor the nudges of your wife disturb you; 
 it's nicer to be so innocent that you, in your dreams, are soaring with 
 the angels, while your better half, in night robe and bare feet, is walk- 
 ing the floor with your son and heir or warming his "pap" over the 
 gaslight. 
 
 It's nice to be able to call selfishness and laziness by pretty, meri- 
 torious names, thus satisfying one's conscience. 
 
 It's nice to have such an innocent, child-like disposition that you 
 can sleep all Sunday afternoon, when your wife would so enjoy a walk 
 with you. It saves you the annoyance of her silly prattle and the 
 absurdity of being seen with a baby in your arms. It's nice to go to 
 bed at eight o'clock so as not to be bored visiting your wife's relations, 
 or spending your money for two at shows when it is so much nicer to 
 play " Pedro nine " at the corner for cigars or — don't mention it — 
 drinks; and as you cannot sleep forever, its pleasant and independent, 
 and not lazy, to get up at 4 A. M. and wander in and out, slamming 
 the doors when others want to sleep; but you're not a lazy slug-a-bed, 
 and they ought not to be either. 
 
 But to our lean, long, restless sisters, we would recommend a little 
 of this clear conscience, sometimes called "laziness." They work too 
 much; take the average farmer's wife for example, brown, careworn 
 and angular, looking years older — though she is not — than her fat rosy 
 husband; watch her day's occupations: a candle-light breakfast in 
 Winter, to prepare which. Heaven knows at what hour she got up; 
 
64 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 milking, dish-washing, house-cleaning, churning, washing, ironing, 
 mending, bread-baking, cooking; in Summer, canning, preserving and 
 pickhng added, varied a Httle by spinning yarn or making her hus- 
 band's jeans; in addition to these amusements, a half dozen to a dozen 
 shock-headed likenesses of their father to attend to. No time to 
 cultivate the intellect, or taste, or even a flower garden; a weekly or 
 monthly paper to snatch a glimpse of on Sunday, when their lord is 
 sleeping; a pinch of the chin, or a kiss, an unknown and almost for- 
 gotten recompense for a harder, more wearying day's work than a man 
 can ever know. These are the women who work themselves into 
 early graves, and for whom their husbands mourn for just one months 
 and a half, and at the end of the second month, clean shaven and shod, 
 and dressed in a suit of new store-clothes, begin to go to meelin' 
 regularly and watch the girls and widows, seein' one home when the 
 least chance is offered. 
 
 It is not only our country sisters who need the prescription "a little 
 laziness, taken after meals," but many of the bustling wives of the 
 
 city, who do all their own 
 work, and their husbands 
 smoke two-bit cigars. 
 
 Oh, take advice from 
 one who knows. Don't 
 work yourselves to death. 
 No one will care one jot 
 the more for you; your 
 husband won't love you 
 any better; in fact, I think 
 a little contrary - wise; 
 your hard hands, and 
 your wrinkled brows will 
 only make him say, or 
 think, you are growing 
 This is the Work. old and Ugly — then — 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 65 
 
 Laziness all hail ! 
 
 And perhaps you think no great inventions have emanated from the 
 brains of lazy people, or rather from their exigencies. I have been 
 told by various people, but do not affirm of my own knowledge, for I 
 mightn't even have been born at the time, for aught I know, of two 
 valuable additions to the inventions of science, caused by laziness, or 
 rather, laziness being the motive-power — one, the steam gauge. 
 
 A boy, being left to watch the engine, had to get up at certain 
 intervals and let off the steam, and he was one of the kind who didn't 
 like to get up at certain or uncertain intervals, so he made a contri- 
 vance of string and wire, and old iron, to let the steam off for him, 
 while he remained on his stool to read or doze, and this was the basis 
 of the valuable steam gauge. 
 
 The next, the fireproof material for safes. An Italian plaster image- 
 maker used to wash his hands in cold weather in a basin of water that 
 constantly stood on the stove. He was not one of those who liked 
 clean water so well that he would take the trouble to change it each 
 time he washed the plaster from his hands; so there it staid till it 
 would no longer become hot, even with a good fire beneath it. And 
 this is how the non-conducting of heat quality was discovered, both of 
 plaster of Paris and certain cements, an invention ensuing which, we 
 all know, has saved much valuable property. 
 
 Then the old chap who so lazily watched the kettle, and- thus dis- 
 covered the power of steam. See how his laziness has revolutionized 
 the world! 
 
 Franklin, too, flying his little kite (for indulging in which sport 
 many a boy has got a licking for laziness). See what he discovered — 
 touching off the electricity of the clouds. 
 
 And Newton, too. His lazy lounging under a tree, watching the ap- 
 ples fall, discovered to us the reason why we don't fly off this globe 
 on a tangent when we are upside down, as it were. 
 
66 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Has Laziness nothing to boast of in these illustrious examples, I 
 should like to know ? 
 
 If the truth was known, no doubt but many, very many, of our la- 
 bor-saving inventions could be traced to the quality inherent in many 
 people, of trying to condense their work, or to perform it with as Httle 
 trouble and expense of strength as possible. 
 
 Look at the dumb-waiter; who would have thought of that but the 
 person who did not like to give their calves too much exercise; the 
 elevator, ditto; the rolling chair at the great centennial, ditto, ditto. 
 
 And the washing fluids, and the labor-saving soaps, that you are 
 only to cut up and put in the water with the clothes, look at them 
 hard, turn them over once, and they're done. Could any but a lazy 
 person have thought of a way to get a boiled shirt so easily ? 
 
 Look at the reapers and mowers, the threshers and crushers of the 
 present day — do the horses eat more hay because it is cut easier? Do 
 the cows consume more fodder, or the tippler more corn juice, or the 
 farmer Hve longer, because of these inventions? No. But Laziness 
 said : *' If we have them we'll have more time for play ;" and where 
 there is a demand, there always is a supply. So all hail to Laziness ! 
 for it gives the farmer more time to read and cultivate his intellect and 
 become a Granger ; and though they don't take but litde work from 
 the woman, save in the fearful large dinners they used to have to get 
 up for the harvesters, yet she, too, becomes inoculated with progress, 
 and, following in the footsteps of her husband, becomes a Grangeress. 
 
 Now, mind me, I like a clean house, although I don't like to make 
 it so myself ; and I don't like my servant to neglecc to dust the mantles 
 and furniture, and keep a good look out for the damage the flies do. 
 I don't like slippery dishes, either, and murky glasses, or sooty tins, 
 or greasy floors; yet, when dire necessity compels mj- ninety-two 
 pounds avoirdupoise to not only superintend and manage, but also to 
 practice, I am dainty with my fingers, not wishing to burn them ; I 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 67 
 
 can't or do not like to stoop, so the floors get scrubbed . Then 
 
 I am conveniently near-sighted, and when my beloved blanks the cob- 
 webs, I say : 
 
 '* Where dear ? I can't see them," 
 
 And you know it would be a cruel man that could blame his wife's 
 infirmity of sight, so he takes the broom and brushes them down, 
 swallowing his wrath with a grunt ! 
 
 " Umph !" 
 
 This is what Emily thinks. 
 
 SMALL FEET. 
 
 Why is it that gentlemen so admire small feet? If a litde fo:t is 
 good, a large one ought to be better. That stands to reason; but I am 
 not so young as I was, and perhaps look at these things in a more 
 philosophical light. We pretend to admire striped stockings; then, of 
 course, the more stripes visible the greater our admiration; ergo, the 
 larger the foot, the more stripes. 
 
 The weaker sex dress to please us lords of creation, so 'tis said, re- 
 iterated, and said again; so then to us belongs the blame of inciting 
 a damsel with a No. 5 foot to wear a No. 2^ shoe. Think of the 
 pains and aches we are responsible for; think of the corns and bun- 
 ions our opinions have planted! Observe the hesitating, uneven 
 steps! we know the poor thing is in misery, and all for what ? To 
 show a smaller shoe than she can comfortably wear, because we ad- 
 mire them. But as we do not feel the pain, I suppose we should not 
 complain, especially those of us who dote on small feet, and do a lit- 
 tle suffering in that way ourselves. 
 
 Why, I know a young man who has as small a foot as a lady; but 
 mind me, I don't say he suffers for it; perhaps it is a natural gift, not 
 an acquired one. 1 know another who can wear his wife's shoes, and 
 
68 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 it don't make him proud one bit; oh, no! we stern sex are never 
 proud, not even over our physical beauties, over which the ladies go 
 in raptures. Why I've heard them myself, exclaim: "Oh! what an 
 exquisite little foot he has!" And if the possessor thereof had heard 
 himself, do you suppose a blush of pleasurable vanity would have suf- 
 fused his cheek ? Oh, no! when a man has a small foot he knows it 
 well, if not by the aches aud pains of tight boots, then by the oft-re- 
 peated remarks and admiring glances of the fair sex. 
 
 Observing human nature as I do, I have come to the conclusion, if 
 the sexes could change places, what attentive, devoted lovers the 
 weaker sex would be ! 
 
 Apropos of small feet, I was riding .in a street car the other day — 
 not one of those popular ones, the seats of which are so old and wret- 
 ched that ladies have to cover them with newspapers to keep from 
 soiling their dresses, but one of those nice, clean wooden-seated ones 
 — when a lovely damsel of sweet sixteen entered. Her dress was of the 
 most approved style, flounced and puffed and pulled back. Balancing 
 herself on the edge ot the seat, she pulled on her gloves ; they fitted 
 like her own fair skin ; then she deliberately, and without 
 
 giving previous notice, so that modest 
 men could leave the car, she deliber- 
 ate lyr^w^f^'/ztr rt';'(?j-j' and pulled from her gar- 
 ter a large hair-pin, buttoned the aforesaid 
 gloves, replaced the popular buttonhook , 
 smoothed down her dress, and sat smiling 1 * 
 
 We gentlemen stood aghast. Mr. I ,a 
 
 young man of my acquaintance studying for 
 the ministry had fainted, in the corner. 
 
 Mr. V , a stockbroker, had frantically 
 
 grasped the bell-strap and without waiting for 
 the car to stop, nearly landed in the cold wa- 
 ters of the Fountain. I covered my face with 
 my handkerchief and wept, almost; yet she. 
 This is the leg. sat smiHug, cool and possessed. 
 
 *This really occurred, a ew days ago, in a street car in the city of San Francisco 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 69 
 
 That young female could rule a kingdom ; could order a man's head 
 cut off without any emotion ; could command armies, burn the Sioux 
 in their own fires, and wear the scalp of Sitting Bull ! 
 
 Oh, but her foot ! — my handkerchief was thin — her dear, exquisite 
 foot ! so small, so shapely, so perfectly encased in the fitting kid ! 
 Then her stockings 1 — never, should I die for it, could I tell you their 
 color ; but they clung to her perfect limbs with such loving closeness 
 that they seemed to have grown there — and I groaned there, too. 
 
 Hop o'-my-Thumb. 
 
 Peter told this to his wife, who told it to me. 
 
 WHY DO MEN MARRY 
 
 I was sitting in my office — did I tell you that I had an office ? Well, 
 it was on the first floor, the last of a long series of rooms ; the passage 
 is not very light, nor clean, still the sun streams into my room at cer- 
 tain hours of the day, lights up my desk and dingy books and the 
 square of faded carpet, so it doesn't look so very bad, and I'm rarely 
 without a little nosegay from some one of my confidential female 
 friends ; this gives the bit of color for the picture. I'm not exactly a 
 lawyer, or a broker, or a poet, but I combine the three in a sort of a way, 
 and with the addition of advisor, I manage to make my living. 'Tis 
 true, I'm not extravagant, and a laudatory poem oftens gets me a 
 pair of new breeches, or a coat or a vest, they don't always match, but 
 still I'm very presentable to lunch with my fair friends. 
 
 Well, I was sitting in my office ruminating on human nature in gen- 
 eral, and the sorrows of the gentler sex in particular, when a timid rap 
 sounded on the partially open door — I always keep my door open, not 
 wishing any "ragged-edge" scandal about me. 
 
70 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "Come in," I cried in a business-like voice, and George's wife — I 
 won't tell her name, for fear you would recognize her — came in, her 
 pretty face looking like an April sky. After the usual salutations \yere 
 over, and I had ensconced her in my great comfortable leathern chair 
 she burst out : 
 
 "Oh ! Uncle John, what do the men marry for ?" 
 
 The question surprised, nay, I must confess, rather staggered me, 
 and I am generally equal to any emergency, but in a moment I answer. 
 
 ''Why, to have the constant companionship, the endearments, the 
 moral support of just such charming little angels as you." 
 
 "That's what I thought six months ago ; but experience is a bad 
 teacher !" 
 
 *'What ! young, handsome, six months married, and — " 
 
 "It's more than six months, Uncle John — it's six months and two 
 weeks." 
 
 "And do you begin to find experience such a hard teacher .?" 
 
 "Uncle John," she said, solemnly and mysteriously, "I wouldn't have 
 believed it — no one, not even an angel, could have made me believe 
 six months ago that the nice little dinners I get up would have to be 
 kept in the oven till the dishes crack, and the plates get so hot that 
 George swears — would you believe it } — swears at burnmg his fingers 
 handling them, when he has kept them there for one or two hours 
 waiting for him ! Who could be a good housekeeper if their husband 
 has no regular hours for his meals.?" 
 
 "I thought he liked a good dinner ?" 
 
 "So he does ! that's why I cannot understand why he will stop at the 
 corner to finish a rubber of whist, when he knows that the dinner is 
 ready, and that the steak is the very best in the market ; and, as he is 
 an amateur cook, he knows while he is finishing that hateful rubber, 
 the steak loses the fine flavor it has on just leaving the fire — it makes 
 me so mad. I'd almost as leave have no dinner." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 71 
 
 What could I suggest to ' ameliorate this sad condition of affairs ? 
 Ah— 
 
 **My dear, why don't you leave the cooking of the steak till he 
 comes ? 
 
 **0h ! I've tried that ; then he says ; 'Darn it ! I thought dinner was 
 ready.' Then, when I try to explain how I wished him to have it just 
 from the fire, the fire that was so bright half an hour ago, it is either 
 nearly out, or filled with fresh coal, then he gets mad. Oh, dear 1" 
 and she sighed, "I didn't dream all a married woman has to endure ! 
 This is only one item ; I should tire you if I told you all." 
 
 "Well, my dear, you will settle down after a while, and become ac- 
 customed to each other's ways." 
 
 "Oh ! Heaven forbid I should ever become accustomed to the cold 
 dinners, or the dried-up dinners, or wasting half my time waiting ; and 
 as to settlmg down, why he never has time (?) to take me any^ place 
 now, and to all intents and purposes I may as well be old and ugly, 
 and a little crippled, into the bargain." 
 
 " My dear, do you make your home comfortable and pretty ; have 
 you pictures, statuettes, books, and nicknacks lying around .''" 
 Here she fairly burst out laughing. 
 
 **0h, Uncle John, Uncle John ; you dear old unsophisticated angel." 
 And she threw her arms about my neck, and, yes — I could not be 
 mistaken — absolutely kissed me on the cheek. Was she losing her 
 reason, with all her troubles? 
 
 *'Why, Uncle John, don't you know that George don't care a 
 
 for pictures, statues and things; so has furnished the parlor very neatly 
 with plain carpet and a set of furniture ; dining-room ditto, without a 
 carpet ? But as I like the little trifles that make home pleasant, espec- 
 ially as it is the one place I see and live in, nine-tenths — yes, more 
 than that — of the time, I want something beside bare walls to look at ; 
 do you know what I do ?" 
 
72 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "Why, buy those things that you admire with the pocket-money 
 your husband gives you." Here came another fit of laughing ; so I 
 moved my chair a little, being rather nervous. 
 
 "Why — I'll call you a goose, this time. Does a man ever give his 
 wife pocket money ? None of my friends have any — unless they ask a 
 good many times for it ; and I'll beg no man — not even if I am mar- 
 ried to him — for a little paltry money ; so I just go through his pockets 
 when he is a sleepn— to see if they need mending, of course — and then, 
 as I'm supposed to be his other half, I divide the 
 contents. So I've — why, Uncle John, why do 
 you look so horrified ?" 
 
 I was aghast. This was the first time in all my 
 confidences that any lady had boldly acknowledg- 
 ed to going through her husband's pockets! Per- 
 haps, 'after all, 1 had done wisely in not marry- 
 ing. 
 
 "But, my child," I presently managed to say, 
 **is not that rather — " "Not at all, Uncle John ; 
 why all we married ladies do it ; or where would 
 our matinee money come from, or our lunch 
 down town, or our gloves, or any little luxury? 
 Why, George thinks as long as I've a dress, petticoat and shoes on I'm 
 dressed; and as I wear his soiled collars turned, he never knows but 
 I have an inexhaustible supply. But as other gentlemen often see me 
 in the garden or on the street, I have to dress for them and my lady 
 friends." 
 
 *'A11 married men are not the same, surely?" 
 
 "I don't know, but from what my friends say it's pretty much six of 
 one and half a dozen of the other. But I was going to tell you how I 
 try to beautify my home on little or nothing. I've bought a dollar 
 table. Oh, those dollar stores are invaluable for taste and poverty. 
 
 This is the divide. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 73 
 
 So I keep a fresh bouquet, cut from our little garden, always on it; 
 that livens the room up a bit. Then I've bought a dollar mat, with 
 a dog on it. George likes dogs, so I thought it would please him. 
 Then I made coffee berry frames for the three graces that came with a 
 weekly, and two pretty twenty-five cent chromos ; and you have no 
 idea how much more home-like the room looks. Oh ! I forgot the 
 fly trap made of white muslin, that I hung on the gas burner — ^you 
 see we don't use gas, it's too dear — and the box I covered with red 
 and black flannel for a footstool ; and the books, I thought he should 
 not complain of lack of intellectual food, so last week I bought 'Daniel 
 Deronda' and Harper s Weekly. But it don't keep him in the house 
 any more — all these embellishments — for he reads 'Daniel' when he 
 wakes in the middle of the night and smokes his cigar, and the pic- 
 tures in Harper s occupied him just five minutes." 
 
 All my well-known phrases of consolation and advice would not 
 touch this case; so, after rubbing my nose thoughtfully, I could onljr 
 say: 
 
 "Let us hope for the best." 
 
 "Yes, but Uncle John, why do men want to marry, try so hard to 
 win us, yes, and, I must say it, tell so many lies, too, about how de- 
 voted they'll be ? They could live on a desert island forever if we alone 
 were there, and that we are the only woman in the world for them ? 
 Oh! they all say the same, for my friends told me so. Why don't they 
 speak the truth right out, and say they want to marry us to look after 
 their buttons, see their shirts are not stolen by the China washerman, 
 that their dinner is ready whenever they want it, and to have somebody 
 when it's cold to warm their beds ?" 
 
 " My dear!" 
 
 " Oh! it's true, Uncle John! and I love my husband dearly, and I 
 wouldn't change him now for any man I know; but if love is blind; I 
 don't beUeve it, for I love a\id yet see his many faults; but never mind. 
 
74 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 I'm hungry, so let's go to lunch; I've only got two dimes and a car 
 
 ticket — I guess George was broke last night — but I know a place in 
 
 the market right near, where we can get shrimps, bread and butter, 
 
 and the nicest cup of coffee you ever tasted for ten cents each — let's go." 
 
 So I put on my hat and went. 
 
 ^ Hop-o'-MY-ThuMB. 
 Louisa's Secret. 
 
 DANIEL DERONDA-VOLUME SECOND. 
 
 I did not untie the pink wrapping string of volume the second, with 
 eager haste, in a dimly lighted car, as I did that of No. 1. I knew 
 what I expected, and was so little moved by any powerful emotion, 
 that I had allowed more than a month to pass, before this volume rested 
 in my hand. 
 
 As I read, I wondered what could be the secret of Daniel's popular- 
 ity, or rather wh) ^ad the work brought so much money to the author, 
 for that the book is pi5pular — meaning by that, liked by the mass of 
 readers, I do not believe. 
 
 In an interval of my second day's reading of the last volume, hap- 
 pening to meet an acquaintance, and speaking of what I was doing, 
 he remarked : 
 
 ' ' Daniel was a little disappointing, was'nt he .?" 
 
 I could only truthfully acquiesce. Then meeting George's wife 
 shortly after, on her way to invest in stocks, she exclaimed: 
 
 ** Oh! Uncle John, I didn't like that old book you lent me, one bit; 
 a couple of my friends have read it, and they don't like it at all, either!" 
 
 " But, my dear, don't you admire the subtle philosophizing, that 
 the critics so commend .?" 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 75 
 
 " Subtle bosh! If I wanted to read a treatise on the Jews, I would 
 have bought one, and I should hope it would be a little less obscure, 
 and tell a little more what it meant, than Mordecai's ravings." 
 
 ** My dear, you are not yet educated up to it, that's plainly to be 
 seen. " 
 
 " And I don't want to be either; when a person's philosophizing is 
 so very deep, that each page of the same requires an hour's study to 
 get even ' a taint glimmering of the meaning, it's about time to class 
 novels with metaphysics, and study them at school. How do you 
 like Gwendolen, for instance ?" 
 
 " She is a very sweet woman, or has the making of one, rightly 
 circumstanced, and her husband is a heartless brute!" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! Uncle John, that's just like you 
 men; you take the part of any woman, no matter how mean or bad 
 she is, provided she is not your own wife.'* 
 
 *' And ain't it just the reverse with you ladies, my dear? You go 
 against every female no matter how good she is, just because she is a 
 female." 
 
 ''Indeed, you are mistaken; but what would you. /^mk of me, if I 
 carried a sharp dagger about me, and thought continually how I could 
 use it, where it would do most good — excuse my slang, nunckey — 
 just because George objected to my flirting with Ned, or wanting to 
 see him alone every day in the week, to tell him how very naughty 
 I was, for coming between my husband and an old sweetheart, and 
 how very, very disappointed I was, because I could not hold my lord 
 under my thumb." 
 
 " But, Louisa," — this was the first time I had ever called her by 
 her Christian name, and my temerity almost startled me — "See how 
 meanly he began to treat her from their very wedding day." 
 
 " Meanly! why if George paid me as much attention as he did her, 
 I should feel myself in the seventh Heaven! He did not differ a bit 
 
76 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 from what he was as a lover, except he felt well enough acquainted to 
 d — things occasionally; and I should like to see the husband who 
 does not, sooner or later, use that privilege. I heard of one the other 
 night, but he isn't dead yet!" 
 
 " I'm afraid you are not a deep student of human nature." 
 " Do you mean by that, that it is only human and womanly for 
 every lady who is compelled by a stronger will than her own, to yield 
 an unwilling obedience, to wish the person dead, if it happens to be 
 her husband, and to have very little compunctions about helping him 
 to that state, either ?" 
 
 "Oh! no! I didn't mean that!" 
 
 ** Divest her of her statuesque form, her serpentine neck, and her 
 narrow eyes, let her be Mrs. Flannigan, subdued to obedience, not by 
 a strong will and a steady glance, but by a strong hand and a black 
 eye, or by what many of Gwendolen's less fortunate sisters have often 
 received, a good hiding, in the language of the British lords, and you 
 wouldn't feel so sentimental about her." 
 
 "Do men ever beat their wives?" 
 
 "Why you unsophisticated thing! Do you never read the news- 
 papers ?" 
 
 "Yes. But I thought those Bohemian inventions as jokes on the sex!" 
 
 "I guess some of the sex wish they were. But about Gwendolen, 
 to whom the author devotes so many pages, trying to make clear to 
 the readers, her true inwardness, and yet lets her turn out to be less 
 than nothing — but I suppose that gives a good chance for a sequel; but 
 don't you think her a murderess in her heart, and with less excuse than 
 millions of her sex have, this very day and hour ?' 
 
 'I can hardly think that." 
 
 "Umph ! If you were a married man I could convince you. Sup- 
 pose you had lots of money." 
 
 "1 wish I had" — so//o voce. 
 

 SECRETS TOLD. 77 
 
 "And had married a poor but rather pretty girl, given her mother a 
 good income, and loaded her with jewels and fine dresses; that you 
 were tolerably young and good looking — " 
 
 *'I was, a few years ago." 
 
 "Took her to balls, parties, journeys, and thought enough of her to 
 feel jealous, wouldn't you think if she wasn't happy she must have a 
 bad heart and a very discontented mind .? And if she consented so 
 gladly to your being drowned, not trying to help save you, when it was 
 in her power, till too late, you'd think it but a lame excuse, that he 
 ordered her how to work the tiller, and persuaded her unwillingly to 
 go boating — I only wish George would take me boating! — when she 
 wanted to have a flirtation, or to confess for the twentieth time, how 
 naughty she was to a dear friend, wouldn't you think her a fit subject 
 for a trial and the penitentiary, instead of ten thousand a year and a 
 fine house ?" 
 
 ' ' Now you put it in that light, I don't think I Would like to be her 
 second husband. But Mirah and Deronda — there are some very 
 good characters in the book." 
 
 " It would be a pity if there was'nt, and the author receive, as is said, 
 about thirty thousand dollars for her work. Didn't you recognize a great 
 similarity" between Deronda and Julian Grey, especially in the chapter 
 where Gwendolen steals away from the walking party, and hurries 
 back, to catch Daniel in the library ? It's so much like a scene from 
 the New Magdalen." 
 
 " Yes, I noticed that several of their interviews bore evidence that 
 the author had been impressed with Wilkie Collins' work; also that in 
 the employment of Lush, to communicate the contents of the will, 
 there was something strongly suggestive of Dombey and Son; but I 
 suppose it's true * there's nothing new under the sun.' " 
 
 " It's truer that ' nothing is so successful as success ;' and when 
 people read of how into the hundred thousands the receipts of Daniel 
 
78 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 went, every one wanted a copy, thinking it must be something won- 
 derful. Now the subtle philosophizing that seems to be so spoken of, 
 I consider the utterings of a dreamer, who sees things but visionary, 
 and tries by a multitude of words, to express images which are but em- 
 br)'Os of thoughts in the writer's mind." 
 
 " Whew ! Why, Louisa, that's the most learned sentence I ever 
 heard you speak !" 
 
 " Oh, indeed! because I'm good tempered, lively, and little, I sup- 
 pose you thought I had no sense." 
 
 " No, my dear; but women seem to be so taken up with dress, and 
 petty gossip, that — " 
 
 "■ Oh! Uncle John, don't slander our sex! You know we have to 
 dress, and we have to talk, yet we still have time to cultivate our 
 brains a bit, and have some little opinion of our own about the books 
 we read, and I must say that Daniel Deronda made me have the blues, 
 and be melancholy and cross for two days, especially during the time 
 I read his interviews with his mother; such a hard hearted woman as I 
 believe, never lived in heaven or on earth," 
 
 '-'What! do you think singers or actresses have the same feelings as 
 other women ?" 
 
 "Why shouldn't they .'' and be even more intense in their loves and 
 hates, as they must understand every passion in order to depict them 
 with any degree of satisfaction to an intelligent audience. It is a 
 back-handed slap to a great profession, that is very unkind and gratu- 
 itous of George Elliot. But, there, I've talked till I'm hungry; come 
 across the street with me till I see about some 'Dardinelles;' it'll be 
 worth ever so much some day, then you shall come to my house and 
 take lunch. I've got some real nice crab salad that George caught in 
 the bay — not the salad, but the crabs — plenty of mustard in it, and 
 I'll make you a nice cup of tea." 
 
 I sighed as I shook my head, remembering I had no car tickets, and 
 no portion of the Comstock Lode in my pocket to buy any, so I went 
 home and read the advertisements in the back of "Daniel Deronda," 
 which Pll sell now for half price, or a dozen street-car tickets. Adieu. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 79 
 
 COURTING. 
 
 I was shocked, horrified, almost dumbfounded! There was Miss 
 Sarah (she calls herself Sallie) in the parlor with her two beaux, and 
 and her father, mother and sister, in the kitchen with the pots and 
 pans, to which latter place I was invited to enter. I did so, sitting on 
 the edge of a chair, and sharing with the others in an impatient wait- 
 ing for the young men to finish their remarks about the weather, and 
 their critical analysis of the various performances of Edwin Booth; 
 but their departure hung fire; 
 perhaps each tried to sit the 
 other out, or the society of the 
 charming Sarah might have 
 been too fascinating to have 
 been easily dispensed with. At 
 all events, I left while their 
 forced laughs of merriment 
 were still stealing through cracks 
 and keyholes. I went home 
 and ruminated. 
 
 When I was young, and my 
 sisters — I had four of them — 
 had company, no one thought 
 of leaving the parlor while the 
 favored young gents aired their 
 ideas of matters and things in 
 general. Gracious ! it would These are the beaux. 
 
80 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 have taken four parlors to have accommodated each separate sister if 
 their courting was to be as mysterious and secret as the holding of a 
 Freemason's Lodge! But girls in those days were different; they 
 honored their parents, and thought it was quite as well to find out 
 their lover's characteristics in the bosom of their families, where papa 
 could joke them, and the little ones could pull their hair, and demand 
 contributions of candy, and where a kiss at the gate, and sundry stolen 
 glances in the parlor was considered a good night's courting, and a 
 blissful reward for a five miles walk. But they have changed, and 
 marriages are not so numerous, and no wonder, for when a young girl 
 banishes the family from the parlor, she deliberately says in actions, 
 which, they say, speak louder than words: 
 
 " My dear Charles Augustus, here I am alone; now court me. I 
 expect to entrap you for a husband, and the folks are so eager to get 
 rid of me, that they will give us the exclusive use of the parlor, so 
 that I can have every possible chance to exercise the power of my 
 charms, for an indefinite number of weeks to accomplish that wished 
 for result." 
 
 Now, is it strange that breach of promise cases are numerous, 
 when a man is almost forced to propose, and then so deluged with 
 sweetness before the wedding day, that he is surfeited and thinks he 
 has made a mistake ; that there is so little left to find out about the 
 young lady that all the novelty is gone; that he could not be happy 
 with her; in fact, he gets to rather dislike her. And so Clorinda 
 weeps over broken vows, or if she is of a practical turn of mind, es- 
 timates her sorrows at so many thousands of dollars, and confides her 
 heart's secrets to the tender confidence of a sensational lawyer. 
 
 '* Umphl you'd like a girl to marry a man who had never been 
 permitted to gaze upon her lovely face, like in those wicked old 
 Eastern countries," some of my sweet friends might say. But no, I 
 would have a happy medium, where kisses and caresses were not so 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 81 
 
 numerous as to be no novelty after marriage. I would leave a little 
 to the imaignation and to the anticipation. I would have it so, that 
 if the acquaintance developed characteristics that were disagreeable 
 either could retreat without having the whole community scandalized, 
 and the edge of the lady's purity so dulled that a second suitor would 
 be loth to present himself. 
 
 All night long I dreamed of courting, lovers' quarrels, breaches of 
 promise, weeping maidens, sarcastic young men; a very kaleidoscope 
 of the afteciions, and I arose at the first break of day, and deluging 
 my face and head in cold water, soon dispelled the illusions of the 
 night. 
 
 As the day wore on, George's wife rapped at my office door. 
 
 * ' My dear, you're just the person I wanted to see." Then I asked 
 her ideas on the subject of the exclusiveness of courting. She burst 
 out into a merry laugh and said : 
 
 " I want no big, glaring parlor all to myself. I don't care how 
 ^y of the family are present; it only gives piquancy to the progress 
 of the acquaintance. Only give me a few dim nooks, like the shadow 
 of a curtain, a bow window, or a projecting grand piano, with an oc- 
 casional moonlight walk, and I'll get all the proposals I want, if I was 
 two or three times a widow." 
 
 "You are a sensible woman, after my own heart. So you never 
 sent your mother into the kitchen, and your sisters to bed, so as to 
 have George all to yourself?" 
 
 " My mother would have boxed my ears had I proposed such a 
 thing, and my father would have looked like a thunder cloud. We 
 did enough courting to become acquainted, engaged, and married all 
 within three months, and we had the novelty of finding out each 
 other's best perfections afterwards ; not but that we found out a few 
 little disagreeable qualities also; but that is better than knowing each 
 other so well before marriage, that you can almost tell what each other 
 
82 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 is going to do and say from day to day. If I was a man I would 
 marry no girl that threw her herself at my head, as it were, and would 
 not accept me as a friend of the family, at least till I knew something 
 of my own mind. I think this over-anxiousness to show a man you 
 are ready to be married, is what prevents many men from even visiting 
 families where there are young ladies, for fear they shall be looked 
 upon as suitors, before they have ever made their third visit. The 
 girls would fare better if they placed a higher value upon themselves, 
 and remember ihey are more sensible, and really more charming in 
 their twenties than in their bread-and-butter teens." 
 
 " Louisa, if ever you're a widow I'll — " 
 
 But she burst out laughing and said : 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know all about that. But I want you to come with 
 me and show me George's tailor, for I am going to have a nice dress- 
 ing gown made for him for a Christmas gift, and I want it to fit well, 
 for he has such a handsome figure." 
 
 I put on my hat with a sigh. Ah ! why had I neglected my oppor- 
 tunities in the arrogance of my young manhood ! Ah! why had I no 
 fluttering earthly angel to minister to my wants, and think my figure 
 handsome — echo answered why ? 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 What Louisa thinks. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 83 
 
 TO THE GIRLS OF TO-DAY. 
 
 I'm an old woman — an old, old woman; have buried three hus- 
 bands and am carefully nursing the fourth in hopes of having some- 
 body to bury me; still my faculties are as clear as ever, and I can see 
 a rent in a petticoat without my specs. 
 
 Now, girls, I want you all to come to me with your little joys and 
 sorrows, pleasures and disappointments, for I've had experience — a 
 whole library full. Only think, four husbands! But that you'd call 
 me a cackling old hen, I'd give you the history of each. 
 
 Now, my dear girls, I know you are pretty, with the delicate peach 
 bloom — natural — still on your cheeks; I know you are smart, with 
 your high schools and colleges, and your drawing and music, and 
 though you think you know it all, more than your mother, grand- 
 mother and aunt combined, yet pause a moment and take the advice 
 of an old woman. I know its the one gift unappreciated, yet, often 
 when followed, worth millions. N. B. — Don't always follow it im- 
 plicitly when i-t concerns points in stocks, for once in a thousand it may 
 happen to be fallacious. You are willing, nay, eager, to accept 
 chocolate drops, gloves, gum, candy garters, in fact almost anything 
 that has a pecuniary value, yet unwilling to take what has cost years of 
 pain and trouble, care and solicitude — advice born of experience. I 
 know that advice in these days is like the aforesaid stocks — the bottom 
 is gone clean out, and it is not considered to be worth the assessment 
 of listening to. Yet did we not value the experiences of those who 
 lived before us, we should still believe the world to be flat, and the 
 
84 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 long-tailed comet would cause the sinners among us to shriek in ter- 
 ror of utter annihiliation in a general smash up; but as it is, we se- 
 renely view his Ancient Terrorship through the most improved 
 glasses, and discuss the gasses of which he is composed. We are 
 thousands of years older — in knowledge I mean — than the ancients 
 just because we have had the sense to heed and make use of their 
 experiences; then why not take the experienced advice of one who 
 knows, especially when it concerns your domestic happiness ? Now 
 all this is prefatory in hopes to 'induce you dear angels to listen to 
 Aunt Polly, and she spvs, "Girls, dear girls, don't marry too young." 
 
 Now, don't answer 
 this with a "pooh, pooh!" 
 "She married young, her- 
 self." Yes, my dears, 
 I did; that's the reason 
 I can help you, for what 
 is more ridiculous than 
 a person trying to advise 
 on a subject they know 
 nothing about? But 
 remember I have had 
 four husbands. You 
 think, no doubt, "Ah, 
 I'm different from other 
 people ; I shall manage 
 my husband." My dear, 
 women have thought so 
 
 This is before Marriage. 
 
 since the world began, but how many have succeeded ? 
 
 Look at the gaunt, hollow cheeks and the lines of dissatisfaction of 
 thousands of women who pass you in an afternoon's walk; do their 
 faces tell of mastership, or the utmost enjoyment of domestic bliss ? 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 85 
 
 Rather don't they look as if they dare hardly call their souls their own ?' 
 
 When we are sweet sixteen, with no more sense than can be easily 
 accommodated in our pretty heads, we are apt to think we are the mo- 
 tive power of the whole world. But let us begin at the beginning. 
 
 What is the first desire of nearly every newly married man ? Why 
 a son and heir, not a daughter and heiress, you may be sure; and the 
 poor, luckless little female who happens to be first of the family is to 
 be pitied. So, you see, you almost come into the world uncalled for, 
 unless two or three unruly boys precede you. 
 
 Why I heard the other day of a man who beat his wife, because 
 their first happened to be a poor girly; and another, because the third 
 was of the gentler sex when he wanted another boy; wouldn't speak 
 to his wife for weeks. A word in your ear : I should think such a 
 person would have nothing but girls, being so very unmanly. 
 
 Then think of the poor baby girls of China, India, and almost 
 every heathen country. Think, also, of the countries nearer home; 
 the son always inheriting first, the son always ruling first; the son, the 
 son, always first in college, in business, in clothes. Look at this coun- 
 try; the son always President, always Senator, always Congressman, 
 always voter, always almost everything — doctor, lawyer, soldier and 
 sailor. Then you, a mere woman, four or five feet high, with a hun- 
 dred or two of avoidupois, no trade, no profession, with perhaps, a 
 pretty face, and a handsome pull-back, can rule a free-born man ! 
 Why, the idea is preposterous. 
 
 Look what somebody said of Englishmen the other day. That they 
 acquired their manly look of superiority and independence, by being 
 master in their own houses; and I'll tell you what that means: I lived 
 in that little island, myself, once. 
 
 "Jane," the wife, "brush my coat." Al, do up my shoes. Sallie. 
 fasten my trousers straps under the shoes. Elizabeth, brush my hat," 
 a stovepipe. "Maria, get my umbrella." And so he stands in the 
 
86 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 middle of the floor, his family flying about to obey with alacrity his 
 slightest behest. I've helped, myself. Truly, an Englishman is boss 
 of his own shanty. 
 
 When the young girl is about to escape from pinafores, has been 
 to two picnics, one grown up party and a matinee, she thinks she is 
 ready to be married. Why, a sixteen-year-older, who can neither 
 read, write or cipher, told me to-day she was tired of this h\ing 
 single ! And if a boy, with the down just appearing on his upper 
 lip, has danced with her twice, squeezed her hand, and perhaps 
 kissed her over the gate, she thinks she cannot live without him ; that 
 he is Apollo, Hercules and Jupiter combined ; and if he has stooped 
 for her fan, carried her parcels, and given her a box of gloves for a 
 philopena, that he will make a most generous and devoted husband. 
 Alas 1 she will find that after marriage she will go with holes in her 
 gloves, and have no fan to pick up ; and as for carrying parcels ; how 
 often have vnn ^^«n the wife with the baby in her arms, the next hold 
 
 This is After Marriage. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 87 
 
 of her dress, and a bag and bundle to boot, while her lord and master 
 walks serenely ahead — ^just a foot or two — empty handed. 
 
 This is not uncommon, for I speak by the card. But this is the 
 least you'll have to complain of. Remember, all men — custom says so 
 — must sow their wild oats ; of course there are some exceptions ; my 
 third, for instance, was a most exemplary man ; so that if you marry 
 such a young man ; who has not had time to sow the aforesaid oats 
 before marriage, he'll find, or make time to engage in that delightful 
 — to him — occupation, after. But that's no guide for your actions, 
 he'll soon let you know ; for do you look twice at the same man, or 
 ride quietly to see the seals, as he thinks nothing of doing, and he'll 
 let you know who boards and clothes you. 
 
 Does he think the house ever gets tedious to you, as it does to him 
 in less than a half hour consecutive stay in it, and offer to take you for 
 a walk or drive ? Not much. I've been married years upon years, 
 yet even my exemplary third only mildly hinted at it once, when I 
 looked pale and tired, and called his attention to the fact ; in all our 
 ■ Other walks together, I led him like a lamb to the slaughter, with a re- 
 signed look upon his dear face, pathetic by its patience, especially if 
 we were accompanied by our ninth. So if you marry young, you're 
 apt to have your ninth or tenth before your hair is gray, and not to 
 have visited the next county to you unless allowed to by your devoted, 
 who doesn't go himself and can have such a jolly time while you are 
 away, playing bachelor. Bend down your head. Don't you go, at 
 least alone. 
 
 How many parties do you think your beloved will take you to after 
 the ceremony ? Make the most of that ceremony, for it will be the 
 last in which you are the observed of all observers, unless you hap- 
 pen to become a widow several limes. 
 
 *'Why don't you bring your wife. Will ?" 
 
 "Oh, the old woman's at home minding the baby. She's always got 
 
88 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 a baby to mind." The last part in a sneering and contemptuous tone. 
 Or if there's no baby, alack and alas ! it is worse still, for then it is 
 the lodge — the perennial lodge, claims him almost body and soul, and 
 he pays you in neglect for the many jokes a childless married man has 
 to endure. And don't you dare ask him where he's been and why 
 he's been, or he may answer you as my fourth paralyzed me with : 
 
 "I want none of your chin music about it^ either !" 
 
 I could have fainted, but I was in bed, and could thus make no 
 sensation falling in his arms, so I swallowed my wrath. But there, 
 I've done for to-day. Another time I'll tell you how I managed my 
 exemplary third, with the experience gained, alas, and felt, by my two 
 former experiments. 
 
 Be patient, dear girls, and don't marry till you hear from me again. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 What Aun'. Polly knows. 
 
 A LOQUACIOUS WOMAN. 
 
 Heaven defend me from a loquacious woman! for heaven alone 
 can; no artifice, no seclusion of yours can accomplish the desired end 
 unless strong bolts and bars divide you, then I do believe she would 
 cackle through the door. 
 
 Oh, I am almost sick and weary of life. I'm getting to despise the 
 sex; to think it's only idiots who marry, and fools who help to multi- 
 ply the race, and all on account of not one fair woman, but one 
 loquacious ditto. 
 
 Will her tongue never cease till the coffin covers her, or will that 
 be insufficient till six feet of solid earth adds its pressure ? 
 
 Married men, I pity you, if this woman is a sample of her sex. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 89 
 
 Should you hang, drown and shoot yourself all at the same time, and 
 should your end be annihilation, still it would be a blissful change 
 from the eternal chatter, chatter, chatter, cackle, cackle, cackle, buss, 
 buss, buss, burr, burr-r-r-r-r. 
 
 I've just got acquainted with one, and I'm to be pitied; I did not 
 believe such a thing existed in this world or the next. I immure my- 
 self in a book and pretend not to hear, but, " Don't you think so ?" is 
 reiterated louder and louder, till you must answer, or your nerves 
 would sting you to death. 
 
 *' How much did it cost .^" " Have you had it long.?" "Does 
 any body else wear that style T' " Has Mr. Smith had his girl long .? 
 Does she get out often ? Does she sleep alone .'' What does she 
 get T' Just as though I was a walking compendium of the private 
 affairs of the whole neighborhood. Oh, good gracious! but wont she 
 revenge the wrongs of her sex! Yes, ten thousand of them. I can 
 now see the ghastly, grim reality of the joke, " This man was talked to 
 death!" illustrated with a coffin and cross bones, displayed on a man's 
 lappel when he wishes to be rid of a bore. I would almost have one 
 photographed on my forehead, if this woman would take the hint; 
 but alas! these kind of people will take your time, your tea, your cake, 
 but they won't take your hints, asking your opinion on all their little 
 petty affairs, that you don't care a blank for, that you've got no opinion 
 about, and v/ouldn't have for almost any money. 
 
 I wouldn't blame the husband of such a wife for seeking oblivion 
 in the bowl, or resting his nerves in the corner grocery in a quiet 
 game of whist, or driving to the Cliff House to watch the seals, or — • 
 but no; he'll never seek the society of females; his one is more than 
 enough; it's full measure and running over. 
 
 How a person's tongue can be their greatest enemy and other 
 people's also ! 
 
 I once knew a gentleman that I thought it would be quite a task 
 
90 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 for any lady to beat in talking, but he did say something once in a 
 while. But this woman begins when she opens her eyes, and keeps 
 it up till blessed sleep seals her tongue, and still she says nothing. 
 
 You can't get rid of her, either. Did you ever have a burr stick to 
 your clothing when you went into the fields ? She is a burr; you 
 can't get rid of her; if you go into another room, she soon follows; if 
 you go into the garden she is there; if you don't answer it's all the same; 
 she talks, talks, talks, for the ineffable pleasure of hearing her own 
 voice. 
 
 Now I know it's pleasant to converse with a woman when she has a 
 few ideas back of her magnificent eyes, but even such a one should be 
 chary of her visits and words; never satiate a person however much 
 you may like them, and they like you; it's well to have even your 
 husband desire you should say more, than wish you had not said so 
 much. 
 
 And it's this loquacity that causes so much of the scandal and misery 
 of the world; no harm was meant, but oh, the women do love to talk; 
 they would die with out it, as I once heard a little boy who was very 
 hoarse say: 
 
 **I'd rather be dead, than not to talk!" 
 
 But oh, woman, gentle woman, don't drive one distracted; don't 
 make them wish that either they or you were never born; there's time 
 enough in three score years and ten to say a good deal; don't try to 
 compress it all in three score minutes. Be warned — be advised by 
 one who has had his nerves tingling, and was ready to commit almost 
 any crime by being condemned to share the house for three weeks 
 with a fearful, gingling, maddening, loquacious woman. Pray for 
 me. 
 
 H op-o' - M y-Thumb. 
 Frank's experience. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 91 
 
 THE BABY. 
 
 We've all been it — the bright, the beautiful baby, the ootsie-tootsie, 
 mamma's darling ; the prettiest, sweetest, dearest little bit of mortal- 
 ity that ever graced long clothes and had the colic. 
 
 "Yes, you've all been it !" murmurs the growler, not always the 
 old bachelor, but sometimes the young one, who imagines that he 
 came into the world with pants on, or was of such an angelic disposi- 
 tion that he never cried when the pins were running into him half an 
 inch, or when he was trotted till every bone in his body semed to be 
 having an earthquake ; or when he was so hungry that he felt he 
 could eat his very fingers if they were only sugared a little. 
 
 But he — the growler — dosen't think it — the baby — the brightest, 
 prettiest thing, especially if he is left to mind it for an hour or two while 
 its own dear mamma goes down town to do a litde shopping. I know 
 of one young bachelor who crammed its mouth with green silk, and 
 not finding that soporific, held its head downward, and finding it ob- 
 jected to that, let it squall out its dear litde lungs till its mother rescued 
 it. Ah ! he forgot that he was once a little old precious, and cried 
 like the rest of them; yet he had no mouth crammed with green silk; 
 he hadn't been held in an inverted ratio; he remembered only that he 
 didn't like babies, at least when they cried. They were all very well 
 in pictures, or sculptured as Cupid, or smiling in their mother's arms, 
 especially if she was young and pretty. 
 
 Of course, it is not so pleasant when it cries for two or three hours 
 with no let up; still it gives a very good idea of perpetual motion 
 and it is well to utilize everything. 
 
 Yet, what is home without a baby ? with no little feet pattering 
 music on the floor, with no little lips lisping pearl drops, that gladdens 
 every mother heart ? 
 
92 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Many love them best when they are in long clothes and just be- 
 ginning to smile ; but that's the time the crusty bachelor, old or young 
 — the bachelor at heart, I mean, and some married men are that — 
 think they are limbs of Satan, and says so too. 
 
 "They are only sent to worry the life out of respectable married men, 
 and keep sensible single ones from following their example. " It's all 
 very well to say you won't walk the floor at night, no matter how it 
 squalls, and even stipulate to that eifect before matrimony; but when 
 the cash runs short, and you are blessed — that's ironical — with twins, 
 what wouldn't you do to stop their howling ? and they always tune up 
 just when you're sleepiest — at least the General tells me so; and gos- 
 sips do say, that as he brushes by the Venetian blinds they sometimes 
 turn and disclose a ghost-like figure in white, with naked extremities, 
 a baby in each arm, singing jovial songs in a stentorian voice, as a 
 counter-irritant, you know, with a face of perfect misery, and hair in 
 wild disorder." 
 
 The young mother who knows better, says 
 she don't believe it; her hubby can sleep 
 through the stormiest squall her two can make 
 and though they are not twins they are nearly 
 so. Then old Crusty wants to know why they 
 weren't born without colic, any how, as that 
 can.'t be for their ultimate beatification. But 
 this is a question the mother can't answer, at 
 least satisfactory to one who is worried nearly 
 to the verge of madness by Mrs. Jones' cross 
 baby next door. The excuse of an apple ate 
 by the mother, or a dish of cabbage, or pork 
 and beans, causes a sarcastic smile on the face 
 of the Doubter, who thinks it their true inward- 
 ness that must have vent, or the machinery 
 
 This is the General. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 93 
 
 burst. (Hush! sometimes the fond mother thinks it's a little that way 
 herself, but she wouldn't for the world say so.) 
 
 Once upon a time there was a man, and he was a newspaper man, 
 and a very foolish young man, for he wrote and published a fearful, 
 dreadful, terrible slur on babies, and could the aforesaid have risen in 
 force they would have annihilated him, but owing to their weakness, 
 their mothers took up their cause and just deluged that paper office 
 with letters; emphatic, ironic, choleric, in fact of every angry descrip- 
 tion, till the editor had to utter a protest; but worst of all many threat- 
 ened to stop their paper, so a compromise had to be effected; a pretty 
 poem " To the Baby," published, or something. It doesn't do to 
 offend the women, and you can't do it more effectually than by dis- 
 paraging the baby. 
 
 Of course we can't see the faults of our own five-year-older, and 
 think it is that hateful Mrs. Smith's boy that will always begin a fight 
 with our darling, and the aforesaid hateful thinks it's just the same 
 with her hopeful. Well, if we didn't think so, who would care for 
 the ugly and uninteresting; but that, you know, isn't their fault; they 
 would all be beautiful and smart if they could. So Heaven has 
 planted this beautiful, beautiful mother-love in the hearts of women, 
 so that they can endure fatigue, worry, loss of sleep, hunger, cold, al- 
 most without a murmur, for baby's sake; and when it sickens, how 
 the mother's heart feels every pain intensified, and when it dies who 
 can comfort ? 
 
 Close the eyes and fold the little hands; put away the clothes and 
 little shoes that the restless little feet have worn red and shining. Weep 
 fond mother, weep, or your heart will break. God gave you tears; 
 it is not wicked to shed them over the loss of this precious gift — your 
 loved little baby. It is so hard, so hard to part with it. The beauty, 
 the joy, the brightness seems gone out of your life, now the lisping 
 tongue is silent. You sit and moan, and moan and moan, till the 
 
94 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Other children weep to hear you. How cold and white your little 
 darling is. You never took his hand before that he did not reward 
 you with a smile, a kiss, or a pretty word. But now, he does 
 not notice you. O, God ! if it should be thus in the other 
 world; if he should not recognize his mother who so loved him, 
 so suffered for him ; if he should not run to meet her — 
 then were Heaven a place of torment, instead of eternal bliss; but 
 God is too good to blast a mother's hopes. You will meet your 
 baby there, poor mother, and it will know you and love you 
 far better than it did on earth. It has only gone on a journey to a 
 more beautiful country, where there is no pain; it will wait for you, 
 and when you cross the dark river, it will not be a strange land your 
 feet will touch, for baby will be there to welcome you. 
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 There is no such thing as liberty for man, woman, or child. As he 
 is born, so is his destiny thrust upon him. It is all sophistry to say a 
 man can carve out his own destiny; a man can do this, and a man 
 can do that, but it begins and ends with saying a man can do. Does 
 any one ever say a woman can carve out her own destiny.? 
 
 If a woman is a slave — and the proof shall yet be shown that she is 
 still in the worst of bondage — a man is also, but diflferently, and more 
 to his own satisfaction. 
 
 Who ever heard of a great man arising out of the scum of St. Giles.^ 
 We know that this poet's father was a shoemaker, or small tradesman; 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 95 
 
 that that great-divine came, perhaps, from a tailor shop, and that this 
 great statesman, and that successful general were of common-place, but 
 respectable parents. 
 
 But who ever heard of the son of a sot — not a man who takes even 
 half a dozen drinks a day, but a drunkard — who has lost all sense of 
 moral obligation while his child is still in his adolescence, or the 
 son of a thief, who from earliest childhood has been taught the height 
 of ambition was to be able to crack a crib successfully without detec- 
 tion? who ever heard of such men's sons becoming great or good 
 or even respectable? Yet were they given the choice of St. James or 
 St. Giles? or whether their fathers should be princes or paupers? 
 
 We will assume that the sot's son has perfect liberty, but what is it 
 to him but an empty sound? With no education to raise his thoughts 
 above the animal instincts of food and warmth; with no experience to 
 show him, that outside those disgusting purUeus are brave, good men, 
 beautiful, loving women, noble deeds, great achievements, a world so 
 different from his own, that could he understand it, 'twould appear 
 like a bright fairy tale. But he is shut out from all this, almost as 
 effectually as if he were confined behind the bars of a prison cell. 
 Lack of intelligence, lack of appreciation, lack of money — these are 
 his jailors. 
 
 And these same jailors jealously guard the prison homes of millions 
 more besides the sons of sots and thieves. We look in vain for a 
 remedy. 
 
 "Education, education, education!" is the cry, but we must go with 
 the strong arms of giants, and seize these children bodily; for they 
 will not seek voluntarily that of which they know nothing; and the 
 weak parents — weak with ignorance, or poverty, or rum, say: 
 
 " Look at us; we didn't never have any teachin'; it didn't harm us." 
 
96 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 So each degraded father and mother leaves duphcates and triplicates 
 of themselves to follow in their miserable footsteps, and yet we talk of 
 liberty! 
 
 Even custom, though it often goes against our common sense, is 
 strong enough to make us do ridiculous things, though we profess to 
 despise both fashion and custom; yet it restrains our free instincts as 
 chains of iron would the free use of our limbs. 
 
 Is there one of us independent enough to do just as he pleases? 
 And if so, what does he become ? A hoodlum, pure and simple. 
 
 The nearest approach to liberty is when the boy of six or seven 
 sneaks off from school and plays the truant; then his evil passions are 
 dormant, and his only thoughts are for enjoyment; true, he runs the 
 risk of being drowned, run over, a bloody nose or a black eye, and 
 the awful fear of the paternal chastisement, when the inevitable night 
 comes, looms up ominously, like a dark cloud momentarily obscuring 
 his pleasure; but he finally makes up his mind to bear it bravely, and 
 then puts all disagreeable thoughts from his mind; and this is the 
 nearest we come to liberty! 
 
 One man, or rather thousands, are the slaves of Pedro, casino, whist, 
 faro, etc.; another of tobacco, or opium; others, money-getting; others 
 wine; others yet, of ambition. Again we ask, "What remedy.''" The 
 answer is an echoed and re-echoed "what?" 
 
 A man is born a slave, and will die a slave, and Bob IngersoU won't 
 save him. Hop o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 What Katie thinks. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. ' 97 
 
 GRIEVANCES. 
 
 Is a woman happy without a grievance ? You gentlemen will say 
 no; and I almost think you are right. ' The dull monotony of a 
 woman's life must be broken by something; if it be not a grievance, it 
 must be excitement, and one can imagine the great excitement of 
 minding children, mending clothes, with an occasional book to read; 
 sometimes washing dishes and cooking besides; not even the excite- 
 ment of marketing is allowed most women, where the stalls of bright 
 vegetables and flowers, and clean looking meat stretch for miles, and 
 one can have the excitement of meeting most of their acquaintances, 
 without the trouble of visiting, and indulging in the current gossip 
 getting it fresh every morning. 
 
 Without something to complain of a woman would be too happy 
 for this world; she would be ready to die, and willing, too, most like. 
 How could she exercise the spice of original sin inherited from Mother 
 Eve ? If she couldn't fret and scold a wee little bit, her husband 
 would be most unhappy finding he had married a saint when he sup- 
 posed he had married a woman. His own little deficiencies would 
 become so great by comparison, that he v/ould sigh for the shrill voice 
 and the occasional biscuit thrown at his head, to be able to draw up a 
 better balance sheet. 
 
 If the husband is an angel then again there is trouble in the camp, 
 for he doesn't afford the least opportunity for the excitement of a 
 quarrel; so the children stand in his stead, and are the worst in the 
 world. 
 
 ** He's the worst boy! I can't do anything with him; other children 
 
98 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 '11 mind, but he — " I heard a woman say, and he was her grievance, 
 and perhaps prevented her other half from getting an undue amount of 
 Caudle lectures. 
 
 If it wasn't for the servant-girl question, some women's lives would 
 stagnate, especially during the fashionable morning calls. Oh, the 
 grief they cause them with their waste, their tea parties, and their lazi- 
 ness! And, oh, the good it does them to talk about it. 
 
 Some women are at their happiest when they are deepest in trouble. 
 When things run smoothly and they are not even in debt, they see 
 nothing to live (of, and wonder why they were born. 
 
 Why I know a lady who is so well off that she has everything she 
 wishes for; and yet she is not happy, but makes a grievance of her 
 neighbors; and if Mr. Jones does not treat his horse or his wife just 
 as he ought to, why her brow is corrugated, and she looks as if she 
 had the weight of the world on her shoulders. 
 
 Oh! happy the woman who has a dozen children, not much money, 
 and no time to think her life monotonous, and needs no grievance as 
 an outlet for her superfluity of feeling. 
 
 Oh ! happy the woman who brings to her husband a mother-in-law, 
 and lots of lelations-in-law,, so that his very occasional visits to the 
 corner do not make her so lonely that she wishes herself dead, and 
 she finds that life is still endurable if her husband does play ''Pedro " 
 for the drinks, and sometimes loses too many games for his equi- 
 librium. 
 
 Why, some women make a grievance of their fine furniture, and 
 moan if the dust blows in too thickly, or run to tears if the head of 
 the house accidentally mistakes the carpet for the cuspador! I've 
 known them, so have you, and who act as if sitting on pins if a friend 
 brings in a young hopeful of an enquiring mind, who wishes to look 
 at the books, or at the bric-a-brac on the what-not or grown-up peo- 
 ple's toy box that stands in the corner. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 99 
 
 Some grieve because they are so fat that their pull-back does not 
 set them off to the best advantage, and pinch and squeeze, and try the 
 Banting sys'em, to reduce their avoirdupoise. Some make a grievance 
 of their very lack of this same carbon, and the object of their life is to 
 drink ale and porter and eat rare beef to accomplish the wished-for 
 augmentation. 
 
 Some sigh because their locks are dark, when fashion calls for 
 blonde ; some because their clothes are not just in the style ; but, oh ! 
 the grievance of all grievances, is the husband! His every fault is can- 
 vassed, even to the slightest, and some women make confidants of 
 every one who will lend a pitying ear. He neglects his home — he 
 drinks; he looks too often at ihit brazen Miss Smith; he don't dress 
 her fine enough, but wastes his money on fihhy tobacco; he — he — he. 
 But if she is discreet and keeps his failings to herself, she thinks, 
 ''What shall I scold him about when he comes home ?" Not exactly 
 in these words, but rather — 
 
 * 'On what subject do we need reform ?" And if the husband is 
 sensible he'll let her reform him to her heart's content; it might pre- 
 vent her having fever by allowing vent to her pent-up feelings. Don't 
 be silly and get mad. Remember, gentlemen, you've had a dozen op- 
 portunities during the day of d — , or rather blanking somebody; your 
 clerk, or your porter, or the stocks, while your poor wife has had, per- 
 haps, no one on whom she had a legidmate right to exercise her vocal 
 organ. How would you like to pass a whole day without being al- 
 lowed to utter strong language? It would almost kill some gentlemen 
 I know. Sympathize, therefore, with your loving wives, and sacrifice 
 yourselves for a few moments for their peace of mind. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, you are right; I'll reform." With these sweet 
 words in her ear, she'll sleep peacefully, thinking she has not lived in 
 vain. 
 
100 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Happy the woman who has an in- 
 growing nail, or the neuralgia, or a 
 prize puzzle to decipher; some real 
 grievance, so that the innocent might 
 not suffer; and happy the woman who 
 is not so perfect, and whose husband is 
 not such an angel but that they can get 
 up a good old-fashioned quarrel once 
 in a while, so that healthy excitement 
 This is the Quarrel. "lay uot fade out of their lives, and 
 
 they die all too soon out of ennui ^ leaving their little ones a sad mon- 
 ument of the desolation caused by two persons not having a single 
 grievance. 
 
 What Lucy don't think. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 WOMAN-NO. 2. 
 
 I never saw a woman yet who did not regret being born a woman; 
 I never saw a woman yet who did not wish she were a man ; I never 
 saw a woman yet who did not feel that the conventionalities that en- 
 vironed her were too circumscribed for the full development of her 
 heart and brain; I never saw a woman but would make a better man 
 than half the so-called creatures that wear the bifurcated. Andyet I 
 am a woman; but my consent was never asked whether I should be a 
 ruler, or be ruled; my consent was never asked whether the limited 
 (in some respects unlimited) duties of a house would satisfy all the 
 cravings of my intellect, as well as heart; I was never given the choice 
 of being a woman, and have the easy and delicious task of bearing 
 
SECRETS TOLD; 101 
 
 t 
 
 and rearing a large family, or being a mighty man, and with the 
 strength demanding, intellect developing occupation of selling hose 
 and chemises to ladies; I was never consulted whether I should be a 
 President or be a pot-washer, there being no act of mine that I was 
 born this poor, despicable, unloved thing — a woman — and no act of 
 his that Nature placed him on the unlimited throne of manhood; 
 then what calls for the extra consideration, respect and deference paid 
 him even from his birth? They say that in this country women are 
 so free, women are so carefully tended, women are so adored (?); that 
 in rough Germany they are harnessed to carts and to the plow; that 
 they lose all the sweet bloom of womanhood, etc. , etc. I myself 
 have seen, in the quaint city of Quebec, a woman and a dog har- 
 nessed together, drawing a cart. Here, you see, they do more than 
 a man. He guides the plow, he drives the horse or dog, he is master, 
 but never equal; that would be degrading. True, I don't want wo- 
 men to pitch brick and carry the hod, as the women in Antwerp; yet 
 even to do this, even to draw the plow, or pull the cart, there are 
 some advantages; God's glorious sky. His waving grain. His life-giv- 
 ing perfumed air are familiar things, ever surrounding her, not coveted 
 and yearned for in vain, as the pale-faced sewing woman, or the poor 
 woman of many children, alas ! knows how. They, too, have the 
 satisfaction of knowing that they earn their bread. We know there 
 are happy women, contented women, who are satisfied with just what 
 they are and just what they have. They need no emancipation. I 
 am writing in the cause of the oppressed, the ground down, the bitterly 
 unhappy. Yet for them there is only partial alleviation, never perfect 
 while man remains man, and woman woman, and even the theory of 
 "evolution" does not teach that in the blessed progress of humans 
 and things, the sexes will be changed. 
 
 We know that women hate each other — with exceptions, of course-^ 
 we know that it is called naughty, unwomanly, etc., but wa know that 
 
102 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 it is natural; we know our little peculiarities born of being a woman; 
 we know the vapid, useless, tiresome lives so many lead, where the 
 father or husband has a liitle more than is necessary to live from handi 
 to mouth. We know the hopeless, sunless work and worry of those 
 who have less. 
 
 When men compare this country with European nations, they for- 
 get the parks and gardens, where many of the women that otherwise 
 would scarcely- see the sunlight, the trees and flowers, take their chil- 
 dren, their lunch and sewing, and spend many happy, contented days. 
 
 They forget the innumerable petty shop-keepers, where the wife is 
 half the firm, and does business like a man. Here, if a woman tries 
 to make money in stocks, taking no more illegetimite means than a 
 man does, oh, she's a mud-hen! v Such a term! Yet they sicken of 
 women book-peddlers, and won't buy patent button-fasteners; so if 
 the woman happens to be a widow, or without support, and is not a 
 servant or shop-woman — and those places are overrun, for there must 
 be some to buy and some to work for — then how does a man expect 
 her to earn her bread, and that, perhaps, of her dependent children ? 
 When she first tried to be a type-setter, how she was sneered at and 
 reviled. And even now they have not ceased to scandalize the female 
 treasury clerks, although, after all these years of trial, not one has 
 been found dishonest. Men say, sneeringly, they haven't the cour- 
 age (?). It is a pity, so their mothers think, that they have, for any 
 one can be a villian; the lowest scuff and scum can be a thief. It is 
 the courageous man who is honest, though sorely tempted by want. 
 
 The men sneer at each advance in the progress of women's labor, 
 fearing their own stability. Look at the school question — women paid 
 less for the same work. Such rank injustice, to make discrimination 
 in the sex of brains 
 
 Men forget that in France women always' rule, first by their youth 
 and beauty, then by their intellect, last by their piety. They forget 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 103 
 
 when they boast of glorious America, the paradise of women, that it is 
 a paradise only for the tender greenlings. Society is for the girls in 
 h eir teens, where a woman over thirty is voted a bore; they don't 
 want " old folks," so precocious is their hot-house growth. How differ- 
 ent in Europe; every lady who has traveled — being past the bread 
 and butter age — will tell. Alack and alas! we in America need much 
 reconstruction. We ask for a more enlarged life for women, for a 
 broader field of occupation; give them every litde concession possible 
 to add to their happiness; their homes should be places to help equa 1 
 the freedom of enjoyment the men posess as a divine (.'*) right. 
 
 We only ask that they shall not be so stinted in the pay for their 
 work, either for others or their husbands, that they shall constantly 
 feel as if they were living on sufferance and their necessary clothing a 
 divine favor for which they could not enough thank God — and their 
 husbands ! 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 What Madeline believes. 
 
 UTILIZING THE RICH 
 
 I was sitting in my office meditating on the mutability of human 
 affairs — we always meditate on this subject when we have more time 
 than money — when a quick, decided little step approached the door, 
 and a lively little drum beat, played by the back of two fingers, sounded 
 on the glass pane ; it was Tom's wife, I knew, so I cried : " 
 
 " Come in !" in the sweetest voice I could command, and when she 
 appeared, I greeted her with a great deal of enthusiasm — for I had 
 not seen her for some time — shaking her hands and seating her in my 
 
104 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 big chair; then, for the first time, I noticed she had no smile upon 
 her face. 
 
 "Oh! Uncle John, I've got the blues!" she cried, throwing back 
 her head and dropping the seal skin cap upon the floor. 
 
 "You.?" 
 
 " Yes, but thank goodness not for myself this time." 
 
 "Relieve your mind, my dear, and tell me all about it," I said, 
 patting her hands in a fatherly way. 
 
 *' Well, you see, Mrs. Jones — I call her Mrs. Jones, Uncle John, so 
 that you shall not know who I mean — well, she is going to have 
 another baby!" I wondered in my mind why that should give her the 
 blues but said nothing. 
 
 "You see she has nine children already, and it takes all her time to 
 attend to their wants, and darn her husband's stockings — oh, he does 
 wear such big holes in them, she showed me — that she has none for 
 herself; can't visit or attend the matinees, and I should so like to have 
 her go with me, for she is very lively, and the soul of wit, whatever 
 that may be." 
 
 "Still, my dear, I can't see why this should give you the blues," I 
 ventured to remark. 
 
 ''Don't you see she is fulfilling the Divine command, and yet 
 Providence don't seem to be helping her out the least bit, any more — 
 no, not as much — than as if she was breaking it; and she said to me; 
 **' If Heaven will keep sending the little ones — oh, you needn't laugh, 
 Uncle John, for she said no matter how much people laughed and 
 sneered at the idea, especially those who had none, that Heaven, and 
 nobody but Heaven, sent them. Witness the fact that they who are 
 childless, might beg in vain till they were gray, for one little likeness 
 of themselves, while somebody else, who would be contented with 
 half-a-dozen, is presented wilh nine or ten." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 106 
 
 " My dear, you have wandered from the point, " I said. *' You 
 spoke of Heaven sending the little ones." 
 
 " Oh, yes 1 She said she thought that Heaven might send plenty of 
 means to take good care of them. 'There's Mr. Robinson,' she con- 
 tinued, 'without chick or child, and so wealthy that he don't know 
 what to do with his money. Why, his stable, even, is finer than our 
 house ; and when my Jack wants a coat, and Angeline a petticoat, and 
 Mary Walker Beatrice a chimeloon, and Grant Lee — you see, I'm 
 neutral in politics — a pair of warm stockings, I'm apt to think Heaven 
 hasn't distributed the goods of this world just right.' " 
 
 I wished to ask her what that ''' loon" something was, but was afraid 
 to. 
 
 " 'Oh, I don't mind having nine children,' she continued, 'for the 
 love comes with them, and I wouldn't lose one for all Mr. Robinson's 
 wealth ; but I don't like to lose all my sleep at night by having four in 
 the bed, because they will sleep with their mamma and papa. Now, if 
 I even had a moLher-in-law with me, she would take charge of a few, 
 for she would not allow ' my son's' children to be neglected, and see- 
 ing that I had but two knees and two arms, and could accommodate 
 but three at the most, comfortably, would take pity on me ; but having 
 only one girl to do all the work and washing, when night comes she is 
 almost as worn out and tired as myself ; but then, she can have her 
 night's sleep,' she added, with a sigh, * and that is what I miss.' " 
 
 I no longer wondered that Tom's wife had the blues; I was begin- 
 ning to feel that color myself, but I put on a cheerful countenance and 
 said: 
 
 " Well, what did she suggest as a remedy .?" 
 
 " Rather a novel one; to tax all the rich people who had no chil- 
 dren, and the proceeds to be distributed equally per capita — is that 
 
106 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 right, Uncle John? — among those who had over three, whether rich or 
 poor, so that accepting it should not be receiving charity. This would 
 relieve a great deal of suffering and save many lives, for sometimes 
 those apparently well-to-do, have not enough money at times to buy 
 needed medicines and attendance for their sick little ones, or comforts 
 enough for their well. But there, we have no hand in making the 
 laws if we do have all the babies. She's my friend, Uncle John, and 
 I can't bear to think of the additional trouble she'll soon have on her 
 hands; those two babies crying at once, for her youngest can't walk or 
 talk, constantly with one in her arms, and sometimes the two. Oh, I 
 can see her now in imagination. Then sitting up in bed shivering 
 rocking the baby, so it shan't disturb the other, and that the rest of 
 them — and 'them' her dear husband, so she prefers to suffer alone; oh, 
 she's done it before; I know her." 
 
 I suggest a good nurse. 
 
 "That's it! You see they can't afford one; she doesn't wish to de- 
 prive her husband of all his little enjoyments, his Pedro, cigars, etc., 
 not wanting him to wish he was a bachelor again; so, though he 
 spends more than enough to keep a good nurse or even his -mother- 
 in-law, still she keeps a cheerful face, and grows old and broken down 
 silently. Now you see if the rich were taxed, that would be entirely 
 for the benefit of the moiher and children, so that she need not inter- 
 fere with his little pleasures, and still have some of her own. Uncle 
 John, you're a man and a part of the government; now can't you 
 petition Congress, or whoever in Washington does such things, to pass 
 such a law? That's what I came to see you about this morning. 
 You're so talented and eloquent, that it would be no trouble at all to 
 you." 
 
 I blushed up to my eyes . I felt it, to have a young and pretty 
 woman thus compliment me. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 107 
 
 "You see, Uncle John, they say, at least I heard a young man say 
 once, speaking of his father : 
 
 " 'Well, what did he bring me into the world for ? I didn't ask him 
 to/ He forgot that his father didn't ask his paternal to do that office, 
 or his, his, and so on till you come to Adam; so that he should blame 
 God, which he would not dare to do. Then suppose there were no 
 more children born, as so many growlers and children-haters wish, 
 where would this world be in fifty years, or rather, what would it be ? 
 The cities silent and almost uninhabited, the plough rusting in the 
 furrow, the grass growing in the canals and corn fields, the humming 
 machinery broken and decayed, the printing press silent and unused, 
 the telegraph poles cut up for fire wood, no smile upon a human face, 
 each one fearing in horror to be the 'Last Man.' 'Tis easy enough to 
 advance in years with our children growing up around us, keeping the 
 busy wheels of commerce, education and the fine arts ever active, still 
 progressive, but to wait till death comes, without a child's voice or 
 smile to gladden us, to look only into faces old with sorrow and care; 
 to see ever)^thing decaying and dying around us, must be terrible in- 
 deed, so why do those smart one, some of them not out of their teens, 
 look upon babies as nuisances, and think it would be best for the 
 world if no more we born, when it would be death, hideous death for 
 this glorious beautiful paradise we inhabit. Only, things ought to be 
 distributed a little more evenly." 
 
 I was silent; Her eloquence subdued me. But as she seemed wait- 
 ing for me to speak, I at last suggested sending them to the Found- 
 ling Asylum; but she burst out crying. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle John, I did not expect that of you. I may be a mother 
 myself some day, and — and — " but her sobs choked her utterance. 
 Now, here was a dilemma! I did not know how to comfort her, not 
 having had any experience in the subject; and as her sobs became 
 louder and louder, I no longer wondered how they could rule their 
 
108 
 
 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 husbands, for I would have done anything to have stopped the heart- 
 rending sound. 
 
 "Maggie!" I cried, "dear Maggie. I'll 
 do it. I'll get up a petition a mile long, 
 signed wiih a hundred thousand names, and 
 send it to Washington!" Her sobs stopped; 
 a smile broke over her countenance, and 
 throwing her arms around me, she cried: 
 
 "Thou woman's friend! Bless you, bless 
 you!" 
 
 And that is the reason I carry this parch- 
 ment and know every married man and woman in town. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
 This is Maggie's opinion. ^ 
 
 This is the Peiition. 
 
 THE MAN WHO STAYS AT HOME TOO MUCH. 
 
 Tell it not in Gath; speak it not in — whatever the quotation may 
 be — that I've been eating onions! But this is my beloved husband's 
 day out, so he'll never know it. You see, my other half is an author, 
 poet, dramatist, etc.; but his principal business is writing for a news- 
 paper, and he has just finished his weekly masterpiece, blacked his 
 shoes, put on a clean shirt, left a thousand and one directions as to 
 what we shall all do during his absence, kissed his son and heir, 
 shook his hand to baby, just touched my lips as gently as a Summer's 
 breeze, «aid "ta, ta," to the girls, and jumped into the car, or, rather, 
 upon it, for he stands on the platform as long as the house is in sight. 
 
 Well, I've been eating onions; the fact is, we've all been eating 
 them, except the baby, for the girls say they don't expect their beaux 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 109 
 
 to-night, as it is Saturday, and they spend nearly all Sunday with them, 
 so they'll just have a feast — Spanish, large and raw at that. 
 
 Thus you see the effect of liberty. My beloved will return at six 
 P. M., by the clock. Let me see, it will be a little past by ours, as it 
 is always fast. Well, he will return with a renewed lease of life for 
 another week; that is to say, he will go to the office, get his litde 
 stipend, then, after chatting a few moments with the gentlemanly book- 
 keeper, he will make straight for a barber shop, have his beautiful, 
 poetic long hair — my pride — clipped to the dimensions of ordinary 
 mortals, and his week's beard, which made him look so dirty and 
 cross, removed to the roots; have his moustache curled a la Napoleon, 
 and a litile delicate perfumery sprayed over his distinguished coun- 
 tenance; then, with a little brushing up, he will come from that shop a 
 renewed man. From there he goes — he has often given me his pro- 
 gramme minutely — not to the Fountain, but to the place near it — and 
 plays his weekly three games of Pedro — not for the drinks, as he plays 
 with a trio of geniuses like himself, who can hardly afford it, though 
 they do take it in turns each week, to do the generous and pay for one 
 round of cigars. Then he goes to the most fashionable tailor, in- 
 quires the price of their handsomest suit; how long it would take to 
 make him a duplicate — there is nothing like putting on a little style, 
 he tells me — buys a box of paper collars and — but I wont tire out in- 
 dulgent patience with too much minuteness; suffice it to say he ends 
 at the market, where he always purchases an extra fine dinner for 
 Sunday, for my poet loves his stomach like a common man. 
 
 And I, in the mean time .? Well, I go in my old rags and drop my 
 back hair; the girls take off their 'attire.' 'Sh ! their bustles, and in- 
 dulge in onions; the son and heir eats molasses with his fingers and 
 makes sand pies. The baby is allowed the luxury of a little bawl — 
 she's a girl, it won't hurt her — and we're all as happy as kings. 
 
 Now, don't think we are unappreciative of the great mind that 
 
110 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Heaven has kindly granted to be our constant companion, and the 
 father of our dear girls, et al ; it's the "constant," there's the rub. 
 There is a neighbor of mine whose husband is Falstaffian and good 
 natured, who would almost give her little finger for him to have a 
 moiety of the sta)'-at-home qualities of my beloved, but he runs the 
 ''primaries" at the corner groceries. '' That's the place to fetch 'em/' 
 he tells her, and he is weighty at city elections ; can influence just 
 nineteen and a half votes — the half is the man who stood. on the 
 fence. His candidates are not always successful, but that's not his 
 fault. After a hurried breakfast, to eat which she has sent over half the 
 neighborhood to all the "primaries," she sees him no more till what- 
 ever hour of the night or morning his important political duties re- 
 lease him. She goes to sleep wiih her head on the table waiting for 
 him ; she stands at the window in her nightgown, like a ghos'. ; she 
 naps on the hard sofa till she gets a crick in the neck ; she reads over 
 the scraps of paper the bread comes in (he doesn't subscribe for a paper, 
 he reads it all at the "primaries"); she does everything to pass the 
 weary time away, and yet she is not happy. Of course, it's one thing 
 to be too much one way, and it's pretty much the same to be too 
 much the other way. But, to return to our mutton — or, rather, beef — 
 for that's what our beloved generally buys, a great big roast, for that's 
 the cheapest, and really good, and makes excellent hash, (he's so 
 thoughtful); then there's a variety of vegetables — they're cheap — and 
 a variety of fruit. The girls are always glad when Saturday comes, 
 for, besides the good things and their father's improved appearance, 
 they get the delightful, the entertaining, the loved Sunday paper, 
 which they eagerly devour all the week. They send the son and heir, 
 who doesn't love onions, to their paternal to ask for the paper to read 
 his piece. This flatters him, so they always get it, after he has taken 
 a cursory glance at his own effort and that of his rival. 
 
 Geniuses are seldom rich, so my beloved's study is the dining room, 
 
SECRETS TOLD. Ill 
 
 80 we make the kitchen do double duty, except on Sunday and State 
 occasions ; nevertheless, he sees everything, hears everything, knows 
 everything — how many pairs of stockings the girls possess, whether 
 they are darned or not ; if they have let their beaux squeeze their 
 hands or kiss them, on the sly ; how many of my white petticoats are 
 in the wash, protesting against the fluted ones as useless extravagance; 
 how many times I change the baby's undershirt ; scolds when we are 
 in a hurry and hide the dishes under the sink. Nothing is hid from 
 his Argus eyes till we really sometimes wish that he would play Pedro 
 a little more, or would begin a great play, that would absorb all his fac- 
 ulties, hearing, sight and smell. Then we wouldn't keep the baby 
 forever on the trot, so as not to disturb his reveries ; then we could 
 sing out of time, or even out of tune, without his noticing it ; go with 
 holes jn our stockings, or even bustleless ; the dear girls could tiave 
 their beaux more nights in the week than one; and we could make 
 molasses candy undisturbed and eat onions in ths kitchen. Ye nine 
 Muses, send him an inspiration, is the prayer of three grown up 
 females. 
 
 Hop-o- M y-Thumb. 
 Katie's secret. 
 
 HOW A WOMAN KEPT SECRET. 
 
 The tedium of my office was enlivened the other day by the en- 
 trance of Marian. Now Marian has black eyes. And when she 
 laughs you can imagine how pleasant it is to see and hear her. 
 
 "Oh! Nunky!" she said as she sank into my great leather chair — 
 this is an affectionate term many of my female friends use in address- 
 
112 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 ing me, their advisor and counsellor — "I have just read in the paper 
 that a woman can't keep a secret — '' 
 
 ' 'Of course they cannot, that is a known fact, and the newspapers 
 never lie!" I replied. 
 
 "So I thought, but for once they are mistaken." She said with a 
 merry twinkle in her eye. "For I've kept a secret from my husband 
 for — let me see — ^yes, six years; Oh! it was nothing he'd be ashamed 
 to hear, so you need not look at me so enquiringly." 
 
 *'My child, I was only thinking that six years was a very long time 
 to keep a secret. " 
 
 "It might be sixty before he knows it, as I might never tell him." 
 
 I began to think she might never tell me, also; but as men have no 
 curiosity, I only felt that I should like to know in the interest of science. 
 
 "Uncle John, do you think a woman tells her husband eyerylhing ? 
 if they did it would make a great deal of mischief, and for what use? 
 perhaps to make their husband and his best friend mortal enemies; be- 
 cause forsooth, he told his friend's wife that she looked ever so charm- 
 ing; or, pressed her fingers with one millioneth part of a horse power 
 more than was absolutely necessary in an ordinary shaking of hands; 
 oh dear! no! we are wiser than that, for which of our beloveds comes 
 home and says what a pleasant little flirtation he had with Mrs. or 
 Miss So-and-So; or, how he gave her a ten cent bunch of violets which 
 his own wife would have thought an inestimable present, presaging 
 the return of love's young dream, etc." 
 
 "Oh, child] married men never do such things," I replied when 
 1 could get the chance. 
 
 "You are right. They never do — that is, bring violets home to 
 their wife." 
 
 Misunderstood — but that is man's fate. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 113 
 
 Was she never going to divulge that six years' secre t ? Were the 
 newspapers wrong after all ? 
 
 "So you have not told your husband yet," I said in an encouraging 
 tone. 
 
 "No; if I had informed him too soon, it might have brought all 
 my trouble back, strongly reinforced/' 
 
 What trouble could she have had that she dreaded so ? She with 
 the bright black eyes; but I was getting impatient, and after what 
 seemed to me two hours and a half of tantalizing, I put the leading 
 question: 
 
 "Well, my dear, what was it?" 
 
 **0h, I haven't told you yet, have I ? Well, you see, William was 
 very fond of dogs — " 
 
 Pshaw! only about a dog, after all — I thought. 
 
 "And as we lived in a city where there was plenty of yard room, he 
 indulged his fondness to the bent, first in a dear New Foundland pup 
 to bring up on the bottle; 'he will be such a beauty,' " Will said: 
 
 I looked disconsolately at the twins, and the little fellow just walk- 
 ing, and sighed. But the pup must be cared for, whether or no ; so I 
 bottled him till he was weaned, and he really was very pretty, but oh 1 
 so mischievous. The baby clothes he tore was enough to last a little 
 one a year; so I told Will, but he would only smile and excuse him. 
 One day a friend came and took a great fancy to the dog, and after 
 begging very hard, Will finally gave him to him. How glad I was ! 
 But my joy was of short duration, for the very next day two pups — a 
 greyhound and a mongrel — at their most mischievous age, were 
 brought to fill the vacancy ! and so it went on for years, as fast as one 
 pup got to be worth anything, a friend begged him and one, two, or 
 three more were brought to take his place. My protests were all in 
 vain; the ruined clothes were replaced with a smile and my life was a 
 species of purgatory. First Alphonse, one of the twins, would pull 
 
114 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 the pup's tail ; then came a shriek; then Alfrida, the other, would 
 tread on a paw — more screams and cries. The washing had to be 
 hung so high the girl had to stand on a barrel, and if anything hung 
 an inch too low, those fiends of pups would jump and spring, claw 
 and tear, until they ruined hundreds of dollars worth of clothes, but 
 William only smiled and said we made a mighty fuss over a few rags. 
 After several years of this we moved to a larger city, and what was my 
 joy to find we only had a small boarded yard to our house. No room 
 for dogs, thought I ! and for several months we lived in peace, and 
 the worried look was leaving my eyes, and the few gray hairs, after 
 being pulled out, did not return. There was noting too much for me 
 o do for dear Will. Alas, we were too happy to last. " Rap-it-tap" 
 came the postman one day, with a letter for Will. Had I known what it 
 contained, it would have been reduced to ashes before the seal was 
 broken. But I did not know, so handed it, with a smile, to Will. In 
 a moment he said ''It's from brother Harry. He has a splendid pup 1" 
 — I almost shrieked — ' ' he wants us to keep it for him as he has no 
 room, being a bachelor." 
 
 " But, Will, dear, the yard is too small — " 
 *' Oh, he'll only want us to keep him for a short time." 
 Arguments, tears, prayers, were of no use. With the daylight came 
 the pup — now two pups, one for Will, he being so kind! If ever a 
 poor woman's life was miserable, mine was, for the mischief of all the 
 pups we ever owned seemed concentrated in these wretched two. 
 
 The girl said she would not stay to clean after no dogs, and it was 
 only by raising her wages and a great deal of coaxing that she did. 
 Nothing could be hung on the line without a guard to watch the dogs, 
 and if the attention was one moment diverted, one to ten dollars 
 worth of damage was done. 
 
 One day I was particularly angry; the dogs had destroyed about 
 thirty-five dollars worth of clothes, embroidered flannels, and the girl's 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 115 
 
 shawl — she made it lively for Will that night — but he bought her a 
 new shawl and gave me fifty dollars, and smiled and said for us to talk 
 no more about it. 
 
 In the morning he told me he was going on a business trip, and to 
 have a couple of clean shirts ready. Oh ! here was my opportunity, so 
 selecting the raggedest two I could find, they were soon on the line, 
 but after swinging half the day — without a guard — they were not 
 touched by the dogs! I was not to be baffled thus, so sending for a 
 friend, a perfect adept at mischief, I asked her what was to be done, 
 and the result was, we silently stole to the yard, with scissors in our 
 hands, and snipped and tore those shirts and dragged them in the 
 muddy yard, till they were unrecognizable as masculine garments; then 
 we let the girl into the plot, and returned to await the result. Will 
 was lively and chatty at dinner, and Fanny, my friend, was full of 
 smiles. At last desert was brought in and with the pie and apples came 
 Bridget. "Look at yer shirt Mr. Jones, torn to bits and as black as 
 the chimbly, and its not myself that can wash ye any more, for the 
 mor'n', and drat all dogs and pups, say I." 
 
 Will looked grave, but we laughed till the tears came. 
 
 "I don't see anything so terribly funny in loosing the shirts/* Will 
 remonstrated.? 
 
 "No, not so funny as forty or fifty dollars worth of flannels in a sin- 
 gle day." 
 
 He got up from the table in a bad temper, and after a little while 
 said he would have to go down town to purchase some shirts — then 
 calling me aside he said he guessed as I did not like dogs he would 
 take them away. So he did, next morning early. He and father carried 
 the poor things tied in a sack, and left them near a slaughterhouse, so 
 that when found, they could get plenty to eat; and from that day to 
 this our house has been free from dogs." I laughed heartily at her 
 woman's wit and thought perhaps some of my poor worried lady 
 
116 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 friends could utilize Marian's experience in getting rid of some of their 
 innumerable troubles. 
 
 **It's well you did not tell your husband, or he would have swarmed 
 the house with dogs in revenge for being sold ! 
 
 "So I thought, and that is why I kept my mouth shut," and I ad- 
 mired her discretion. Hop-o-My-Thumb. 
 And this is Marian's secret. . 
 
 ABOUT GOING ON THE STAGE. 
 
 The mother morning, Annie, my latest female confidante, tripped 
 into my office, and after the usual salutations were over, she began: 
 
 *'Mr. ," as yet she was not so well acquainted as to call me 
 
 uncle, "a friend of mine wishes to go on the stage, and I came to ask 
 your advice as the only one among my acquaintances who would be 
 likely to have an intelligent opinion on the subject ?" 
 
 * Well my dear Mrs. Smith" — she was married although quite 
 young — " I have no personal experience on the subject, but many of 
 my professional friends have told me their trials and triumphs, and 
 some of the petty annoyances connected with that envied life." 
 
 "But what do you think of the advisability of adopting it as a pro- 
 fession? A bread profession, I mean." 
 
 "My dear, there are many things to take into consideration, which 
 are applicable according to the individual. Do you wish to know if 
 it is advisable for your friend to go on the stage, or for any one in 
 general ?" 
 
 "Oh, for my friend of course. You see she's very poor." 
 
 "Ah! that is bad, for no one who is very poor, can use that inde- 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 117 
 
 pendence of action, that is necessary to success; poverty, too, has a de- 
 pressing effect, causing one to think more meanly of one's self, than 
 they would dressed fashionably, with a full purse in their pocket — and 
 causing the pubHc to, also, as for the matter of that!" 
 
 "Oh! my, and she has two or three Httle children, and needs the 
 money so bad! " 
 
 ''Worse again, it is a late day to begin such a profession, when a 
 woman is married and has several children, for no matter how much 
 genius she has, her children must be her first thought, if she has any 
 heart; then, too, she is obliged to be off the stage so much, that the 
 reputation she makes one year, she loses by her absence the next. 
 One must keep constantly before the public, in one city or another, 
 I don't believe in remaining always in one place, with their names 
 often in the papers, or they will be soon forgotten." 
 
 "Then you don't believe in a married woman going on the stage ? 
 I thought as there were so many distressed mothers depicted, that a 
 married woman would have quite an advantage." 
 
 *'So she would, if she were wealthy enough to have the very best of 
 servants and nurses, and her mother or sister to oversee them. Now, 
 I'm not one of those who believe that if an actress has not all the 
 young fellows in their teens crazy about her, that she is not a success; 
 for one who is a favorite with the ladies has a still greater chance of 
 drawing, and they don't care if they are married or single, in fact, I 
 think they would rather they were married." 
 
 "Do you not think it is the easiest way for a woman to make a 
 living .?" 
 
 "Do you remember the old recipe of how to cook a hare — 'fkst 
 catch your hare!' " 
 
 "How ? I do not understand." 
 
 * 'First, get upon the stage. How many professional people, some 
 with a great deal of talent, too, do you suppose, are constantly idle, in 
 
118 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 every city ? It is no easy matter to get an engagement of any kind. 
 Why, some of my acquaintances who have been on the stage for years 
 are still in the ballet, with a very occasional speaking part, and there 
 they may remain for years longer unless some lucky accident pushes 
 them forward, for a manager rarely does. Indeed, I have known 
 some managers who would keep a person back all they could; and it 
 is only by the greatest perseverance and energy and confidence in one's 
 self — mind me, not a foolish self-conceit — for that disgusts — that a 
 woman makes the least headway. I think a man has a better chance, 
 as there are always so many more male characters in the generality of 
 pieces. " 
 
 "Why, I thought a manager was glad to get a debutante '' 
 
 *'Yes, when the houses are empty, and she will put down her little 
 seven or eight hundred dollars, and then sometimes the dead, dead 
 failure the said debutante makes, hurts the reputation of the theatre 
 more than the money she pays helps it. How many of the ladies, 
 especially thoie who made their debut with a little family already on 
 their hand^, are now upon the stage .f* Why, here in our own beau- 
 tiful city, I can remember, within the year, the first appearance of, I 
 think, a half-a-dozen Mrs. So-and-So's, who are never heard of, ex- 
 cept one, and she made the deadest failure of all, and never will suc- 
 ceed, as she \% passe and has not even talent, let alone genius, which 
 is necessary for a complete success; but she, I presume, has given it 
 up, as a not paying occupation — at least for her." 
 
 "Why, I thought it was so easy. I have often fancied I could do 
 as well, or even better than lots of the ladies I see at our best theatres.*' 
 
 I laughed heartily. "Ah! that's what so many think till they try. 
 Why, I saw a lady, who brought bills from Australia, with her name as 
 Lady Macbeth in big letters, fail entirely on the stage of a metropoli- 
 tan theatre, in only a small part, back up the stage as if she wanted 
 to go through the scenery, with no word audible except the sentence, 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 119 
 
 *rd slap his face!' The next night she did not appear, although her 
 name was on the bills." 
 
 '*0h! you discourage me about my friend, for I don't think she had 
 much talent, and I know she has no money; but I thought she could 
 do well enough, and fifty or seventy-five dollars a week would keep 
 her nicely." 
 
 "Why, my dear, you must think the theatres are perfect gold mines 1 
 Do you know what ballet girls used to get in one of the big western 
 cities? Three dollars a week and dress themselves. That would be 
 scarcely enough to keep a family of several persons." 
 
 **Oh! — that is horrid. Why the mean, stingy things." 
 
 "Yes, and even then they were overrun with applications, just 
 because so many think as you do, that it is so easy, that one can step 
 into a great profession, begin at the top, with a month or two of in- 
 different preparation and shine as stars! many who attempt it had bet- 
 ter be at the wash tub, or sewing machine, or making good bread, 
 something they could do with credit to themselves and pleasure to 
 their fellow beings." 
 
 If one must go upon the stage, if their love for it is so great they 
 are ready to endure any hardships and privations, besides any amoun 
 of snubbing and criticisim by the papers; if they are willing to give 
 their whole heart and mind to their profession; if their head is so 
 strong that no amount of flattery or temptation is able to turn it; if 
 they can live for years without fancying they are in love; if they have 
 immense genius and some beauty and are still young, then I say go." 
 
 "Keep a clear head, a free heart, and mount the ladder of Fame as 
 rapidly as possible. Make the most of your youth, and heaven bless 
 and protect you in one of the noblest of professions." 
 
 My friend sighed and said : 
 
 " Well! I'll tell her what you say, but she'll be so disappointed." 
 
 " She had better be so now, than afterwards." 
 
 " That's true." And Annie sorrowfully left the office. 
 
 Hop-o'-My-Thumb. 
 
120 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 SPEAK YOUR MIND. 
 
 ^ . . . 
 
 Speak your mind; speak it right out; show your independence; it's 
 manly, too. If you think Mr. — is a villian, say so; or if your pri- 
 vate opinion is that he is not overburthened ' with sense call him a 
 blanked fool on the public streets; it will show your courage, and 
 that you're not afraid of him. If you hear a party of gentlemen 
 whom you know, or are slightly acquainted with, discussing some 
 topic, just step up and speak your mind on the subject without waiting 
 to asked; it will show that you consider yourself just as good as any 
 of them. 
 
 If you know anything to the detriment of a public man, or one in 
 high position, tell it to every one you meet; it will strengthen their 
 good opinion of you, and help to destroy their faith in him, and so 
 conduce to the equalizing of the race. And if you know anything 
 against a woman, speak your mind, or a little more so; your gentle- 
 men friends will think you are a "knowing dog," and the ladies be 
 fascinated by your Don Juan experiences. 
 
 There's nothing like it. If you think a bank is a little shaky, rush and 
 get your'money out, then tell every body the bank is going to burst; 
 you'll most likely cause a 'run" on it, and make your words come 
 true; no matter how many widows and orphans are left to starve by 
 your frankness, or how many an honest man to die of grief, you're all 
 right; you've got your money, and spoken your mind. If you hear 
 that Mr. So-and-So isn't square in his dealings, no matter how wo rth- 
 less a man informs you that that is his opinion, tell every one that he 
 is a thief and cheats his customers; gives short weight, and adulterates 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 121 
 
 his goods, or keeps the ver}' poorest; you'll soon injure his business, 
 no matter if he is a good man, entirely unknown to you, and never did 
 you the least harm. You have performed your duly to society, for 
 you heard so, and are therefore blamless of the consequences. 
 
 And if some miserable scamp brags of his success with some re- 
 spectable girl, no matter if it's ever so much a lie, stare at her when 
 ever you see her in the street; it won't hurt if you even wink at her 
 Point her out to all your acquaintances as So-and-So's girl, no matter if 
 it blasts her reputation, and your gentlemen friends forbid their 
 daughters associating with her; and seeing she is avoided by her own 
 sex, she finally goes to destruction, and perhaps fills a suicide's grave. 
 What should you care ? You heard so, and only spoke your mind. 
 
 Why, it is something to brag of, this frankness! Witness the man 
 who says: 
 
 *' I always speak my mind, I do; there's no foolishness about me!" 
 He is so well liked by those who know him, and he is too frank to be 
 polite. 
 
 " It's only hypocrisy to bow and smile at a man when you don't 
 care for him, and hoping he's well when you don't hope anything 
 about it; and as for giving your seat to a woman in the cars, I'll be 
 hanged if I ever do. Why can't a man be frank and do only what he 
 feels like doing ?" This is the catechism he acts by, and when he 
 dies, how he is bemoaned and wept for! 
 
 And aren't clubs splendid places to speak your minds .'* No matter 
 on what a slight thread of truth some wicked story is based, tell it over 
 and over again, and give your opinion besides; this dresses it — gives it 
 color, and when it leaves the clubs you wouldn't know your own 
 story; no matter what home it makes desolate, the story is too good 
 to keep. Oh! what a precious set of old gossips you club men are! 
 
 The ladies never, or hardly ever, speak their minds. They don't 
 like sewing circles where they can do a few stitches for the poor, 
 
122 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 while politely killing some woman's reputation with all the sweetness 
 possible, forgetting they are mothers themselves, with daughters 
 whose reputations are as dear to them as their heart's blood, yet ne- 
 glecting to spare the blighting word for some body else's loved daugh- 
 ters. Oh, no; they are so reticent about all the evil they hear, that 
 they never repeat it at morning calls, and not remembering the exact 
 words never give it in language of their own, which don't detract from 
 the point of scandal, you may be sure! Oh, no! 
 
 One single case. Oh I yes; two, happen ever}' day in this goodly 
 city, where the women courageously say just what they think. 
 
 *'You nasty, mean, stingy thing, you! Can't you come home and 
 cut the wood, and not be here every day playing the dirty cards ? Oh, 
 you're a nice set, enticing a husband from his home to play cards for 
 the mean whisky you love to drink, you mean, dirty dog, you !" Now, 
 that's a brave woman. All the gentlemen assembled in that sample 
 room think her a fine specimen of womanhood, and wonder how in 
 the world a husband could ever leave her side! How much better 
 this is than merely to appear at the door and say: 
 
 "Mr. Jones!" and have the aforesaid Jones spring up as if he had 
 Bat on a pin, and throwing down his half finished hand, walk off dig- 
 nified with his dignified wife. Now that spoils all sport, and the rest 
 of the men have nothing to joke him about. But even that is more 
 emphatic and expressive than the timid — 
 
 "Pet, dinner is ready," whispered at the door. Men don't appre- 
 ciate that, and come when they want, no matter if the other Pet is 
 waiting and dinner does get cold. It is so much better to speak out 
 and act out your mind. Just walk in and take him by the ear with a 
 grip like a pair of dentist's nippers, so that either he or the ear has to 
 come, and say gently: 
 
 ''Love, dinner is on the table!" You speak your mind, and the 
 g entlemen think he at least has a treasure who knows her business, 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 123 
 
 and won't stand any nonsense. They know that ends it, and he gets 
 no Caudle lecture. 
 
 Oh! gentlemen, oh! ladies, speak your minds on every subject, and 
 on all occasions. Don't you believe that any one was ever scandalized 
 into an early grave; don't trouble yourself that your words ever 
 helped cause the waters to close over one more unfortunate, or the 
 bullet to go crashing through a brain, sending the soul, all unprepared 
 to its Maker. 
 
 Don't you believe that the charity which covers a multitude of sins, 
 without which all goodness is as sounding brass; don't you believe 
 that it means to think kindly of one another; to speak only the good 
 you know; to try to cover our brother's fault from the gaping eyes and 
 ears of curiosity; don't you believe it is to guard the reputation of 
 the helpless, to stimulate the weak or erring, to regain the lost path. 
 Don't you believe that Christ's Divine Charity is so often the Charity of 
 Silence? Hop-o-My-Thumb. 
 
 Susie's idea. 
 
 ALL FOR LOVE. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 It is midnight in Lady Elmer Dudley's boudoir, the air is filled 
 with a subtle perfume that clings to laces, curtains, statues, flowers; it 
 feels the abode of passionate, dreamy luxury. The presence of a pert 
 and pretty lady's maid slightly destroys the fascination. She is looking 
 in the mirror with a pleased satisfaction on her face. These were her 
 thoughts, for few people talk alone, save in plays or when they get old 
 and witchish. 
 
124 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 " It's fine feathers makes fine birds, say I. Who wouldn't look well 
 with a long train, and hair all be-jimcracked up with diamants and 
 things? I should like to mingle in yonder gay and festive scene, and 
 try the power of my charms among my equals." Then as the 
 music came softly and sweetly from the ball-room, she became 
 enthusiastic : Now there's the divine polka. Oh ! for a partner. " 
 But no one was there, so she seized one of the gilded chairs. *' What- 
 lovely woman reduced to this ! A stick; but what are men but sticks — 
 sometimes, or why would they say "she picked up a crooked stick at 
 last." Then she laughed, overflowing with a natural vivacity of spirits, 
 and danced around the room with the little chair as partner. A low 
 knock at the door caused her to stop, making a pretty picture. 
 
 A voice outside said in a loud whisper: 
 
 "May I come in ?" It was Cubby, Sir Francis Hilton's valet, who 
 was a guest in the ball-room beyond. 
 
 **0h, there's my young man I" 
 
 "The highflyers are all polkaing; can I speak a word to my 
 charmer ?" 
 
 *"Sh! one short moment. Cubby!" She opens the door wider, he 
 takes her round the waist, and they polka extravagantly till she is out 
 of breath and falls into a chair. He goes to the bureau, and exam- 
 ining the beautiful things there, says ; 
 
 *'0h! this is an earthly Paradise! What is this ? Cologney.?" And 
 he hands the exquisite perfume bottle to the pretty Willet, and tells 
 her "Fumigate me, my charmer;" and bending his head, she satur- 
 ates his hair; then he pulls out an immense lace handkerchief, which 
 she treats in the same manner. 
 
 "That will do. It's nice to be a gentleman's gentleman; don't you 
 think so, Willet ?" 
 
 *Tt's nicer to be a lady's lady, don't you think so. Cubby .?" 
 
 "Pon honor, couldn't tell, never being a female, you know. Ah, 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 125 
 
 the polka is ended; I must make myself scarce — but I should like to 
 see the beauties in all their flustration from the dance.", 
 
 "You indiscreet man ! it would be as much as my place is worthy 
 They are coming — vanish !" • 
 
 *' I vanish!'' and he does. She throws herself in a chair using her 
 apron as a fan. " I declare, I'm all in a flutter! If they had seen 
 him here, fvhat would they have thought ? Oh, my !" she stood up 
 meekly as two beautiful women entered, Lady Clare De Mille, blonde, 
 medium height and gentle, with a reserve force beneath the surface; 
 and Lady Elmer Dudley, brunette, tall and passionate, both dressed 
 in the extreme of wealth and fashion. Elmer was looking at her 
 friend, pleased, yet half amazed; she said: 
 
 *'0h! Clare, you look beautiful to-night! Not the splendor that 
 dazzles and repels, but the beauty that attracts and subdues." 
 
 *' Elmer, don't spoil your little friend. Flattery from a woman is 
 more subtle and dangerous than the little civilities we have a right to 
 expect from our cavaliers." 
 
 '* Then how you dance ! Your very heart seems in it. The elec- 
 tricity of your happiness is sensibly affecting every one in yonder ball 
 room. Clare, tell me the secret," 
 
 '* Would you know what renders earth a Paradise to me to-night ? 
 Then I will tell you; the most potent of all powers — love." 
 
 Willet, standing behind them, clasps her hands in feminine approval 
 and delight, uttering a subdued " oh, my!" 
 
 " Is it the most potent V Elmer asked, with an accent that showed 
 she thought otherwise. 
 
 " What else could change a desert into an Eden, a prison into a palace? 
 What other power would make us willing to harden our dainty hands, 
 or brown our snow-white brows } Let misfortune come to lovers 
 truly wedded, what will they not endure .? hardships, trials, . or even 
 death, before a separation." 
 
126 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "I should not wish you for a rival, Clare; that earnestness and 
 enthusiasm would keep a lover true and firm. But there is a feeling 
 more powerful even than love — ^jealousy ! Clare, as much as I love 
 you, did you come between me and my heart's idol, I would kill you." 
 But the gentle Clare only laughed. ''Oh, Elmer, never fear, my love 
 is too constant to change, and my heart is so filled with one image 
 there is not room for any other !" * 
 
 '* That is my dear, true friend," and she kissed her, gaily. ''Neither 
 shall my heart wander from my chosen one, so we shall each be as 
 secure in our love as a queen on her throne." They were interrupted 
 by Cubby bringing in a tray of refreshments. He handed it to them. 
 
 ''Sherbet or ices, ladies.''" Elmer, smiling, turned to Clare, and 
 said : 
 
 "A little refreshment, Clare, dear, will enable us better to go through 
 with our arduous task. This dancing, dancing, till even the stars are 
 weary and hiding their paling splendor, is no easy task, fair ladye 
 mine !" So they sit, Clare taking an ice, and Elmer Sherbet. But 
 the music begins, and Clare is impatient to go back into the ball room. 
 "It is almost impossible to sit calmly sipping this prosaic ice, while 
 the music of the divine Mozart makes my very nerves thrill!" 
 
 " Do you never tire!" 
 
 "Not when my heart's chosen whispers words of love that are 
 audible to no ears but mine, and his arm encircles me. Elmer, I have 
 never waltzed before save with my brother, so to-night I have tasted 
 for the first time the delirium of the waltz." 
 
 "My idol has not so honored me as yet, but then we are still un- 
 betrothed.'* 
 
 "Then you have yet to know earth's sweetest pleasure. What 
 woman would not envy me the love of Sir Francis Hilton?" 
 
 Lady Elmer started voilently, and the glass fell from her hand, 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 127 
 
 breaking to pieces. The servants sweep them up, and leave the room. 
 Poor Clare was frightened, and springing to her side, asked: 
 
 *' What is it, Elmer .? Are you in pain ?" 
 
 '*Yes; a deathly pain at my heart; it will be over soon." Then 
 looking in the glass, she said: "How pale it has made me!" Clare 
 handed her some perfume, and wished to call Willet, but Elmer 
 shook her head. 
 
 " What silly girls we are," she said smilling. " See, my color is 
 returning; I shall be ready for the Lancers;" and as Willet entered, 
 she bade her re-arrange the flowers in her hair. 
 
 " Now who is beautiful ?" cried Clare. * ' The color of your cheek 
 rivals the fairest rose, and your eyes flash brighter than the diamonds 
 on your brow." 
 
 "Would that my chosen had thought so," she said sadly; then sud- 
 denly changing: "Are not these beautiful .? My dear father gave 
 them to me on this, my birthnight;" and she took from her ears two 
 of the largest and most brilliant of diamonds and handed them to 
 Clare. 
 
 "Yes, they are very beautiful, and see 1 they sparkle as brightly as 
 if you had not suffered that dreadful pain just now; so you are in no 
 danger while your diamonds shine." 
 
 "Were the legend true, my diamonds would be as lead — but do not 
 let us talk nonsense. See how my diamonds sparkle for you!" and 
 she put them in Clare's ears. "So no ill omen warns you to-night. 
 Look, do they not become you ?" 
 
 "They are finer than any I possess. Diamonds have a beauty of 
 their own, without any regard to their intrinsic value." 
 
 Elmer sends Willet for a glass of water, then perfumes Clare's 
 handkerchief that she lays down while she removes the earrings from 
 her ears. 
 
128 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "I expect Sir Francis is wondering what has become of us," said 
 Clare, looking toward the door. 
 
 An expression of pain and horror passed over Elmer's face, as she 
 pushed Clare's handkerchief toward her. Willet entered with the 
 water, and Cubby came in haste, saying: 
 
 "They are asking for the ladies." 
 
 Elmer suddenly put her hands to her ears, then looked on the 
 bureau, exclaiming: 
 
 "Where are my earrings? Cubby, call a policeman quick! I have 
 been robbed!" 
 
 Cubby went to the door and blew his policeman's whistle, and then 
 returned; but Willett was indignant: "You need not try to put the 
 theft on me, mem; Heft the room with them hanging in Lady Clare's 
 ears." Cubby quietly felt his hair, hoping his charmer didn't pour 
 them on his head with the "Cologney." But the policeman arrived, 
 and asked Lady Elmer what she wished. 
 
 "My diamond earrings cannot be found. They are my dear father's 
 gift, and I would not lose them for fifty times their value." Hearing 
 the policeman's whistle, and the excitement, Sir Francis Hilton and 
 many of the guests, with Clare's mother and Elmer's father, came to 
 see what had happened. The policeman walked directly over to 
 Willet, and laid his hand upon her shoulder. 
 
 "Come, my girl, what have you got to say for yourself?" But Willet 
 knowing her innocence, and having plenty of spirit, took his hand 
 from her shoulder, and dusted her dress with a lace handkerchief, 
 
 "Hands off, if you please, Mr. Policeman, you are on the wrong 
 track. You will have to hunt higher game to-night!" she said signi- 
 ficantly, and Cubby shook his fist at him, but behind his back. 
 
 "Dear Elmer, they were here a few moments ago; they cannot 
 have been stolen !" and Clare looked eagerly on floor and bureau. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 129 
 
 "See, they are nowhere to be found;" then in a stern voice she said: 
 "Willet, what have you done with them ?" 
 
 This made her very angry, and she repHed in a high excited voice: 
 
 "You can't lay it on me, my lady. I left the room with them stick- 
 ing in Lady Clare's ears, and she admiring herself in the looking-glass, 
 and I hadn't reached my lady with the water she ordered, before she 
 discovered she were robbed. Oh! if you want to see, here is my 
 pockets!"' and she turned them inside out, throwing on the floor 
 various articles; a love letter, several shillings, a piece of cake and 
 an apple, that she had just taken to refresh herself. "Are you satisfied 
 Mr. Policeman? Cubby turned his pockets out, too, and the other 
 servants crowded both the doors. Then Elmer said with a start: 
 
 ''Oh, I remember; my friend, Lady Clare and I, were alone — of 
 course they can be found. Policeman, your services are not needed." 
 
 "You sent for me, my lady, and my duty is to arrest the thief, if 
 you have been robbed. Her ladyship being innocent, will not object 
 to being searched. It is a mere formality." 
 
 "I decline to be searched!" Clare replied with great dignity. They 
 all looked astonished. 'T am an Earl's daughter, descended from a 
 line of ancestors, whose proud boast has been for five hundred years, 
 their escutcheon without a soil 1" Sir Francis stepped to her side and 
 said : 
 
 "The lady is right; she shall not be searched." 
 
 Elmer turned to the policeman: 
 
 "Officer, please go; you see, we have no use for you." 
 
 But he would not stir. 
 
 *' If the lady declines to give proof of her innocence the only duty 
 left me will be to arrest her. !" 
 
 But they all exclaimed in horror, " Oh!" and Sir Francis said coldly 
 and determined: 
 
 "Do not dare!" 
 
130 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 *' Officer, please go. I would rather lose my fortune, than my 
 friend should suffer such an indignity." 
 
 "Lay your hand on that lady, and you are a dead man!" But 
 Clare spoke sweetly: 
 
 "Sir Francis, it needs no blood to vindicate my innocence; Heaven 
 will do that !" and she took her hand from her pocket, holding her 
 little lace handkerchief, and pointed upward. 
 
 But what were those sparks of light that fell from the upraised hand? 
 The Policeman pointed in triumph to the floor: "See the diamonds!" 
 
 Sir Francis prayed, " Heaven shield her!" And Elmer burst into 
 tears, and cried, " Oh, my friend!" 
 
 But Clare still stood, with her hand yet raised, a statue of innocence. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 The whole house was in confusion. Of course every one had their 
 opinion, even to the servants, whether the Lady Clare was guilty or 
 not guilty. Willet ran hither and thither, helping the guests, who 
 were as hurried in their departure as if a pestilence had struck the 
 house. But who can blame them ? Soriow and misfortune are so 
 hard to witness; we know not what to say, or how to act, and if we 
 are prompted to console, are very like to utter words we may long 
 wish unsaid. The tongue is a terrible little mischief maker, some- 
 times, too, when we think it covered with the balm of peace. Willet 
 had lost all her gaiety. '*Ah!" she thought, ''Fine feathers don't al- 
 ways make fine birds, it seems." In her heart, she was sorry for 
 Clare, and thought the diamonds must have gotten into her pocket 
 without her knowledge — perhaps caught in her handkerchief, or fallen 
 in. Then she uttered aloud: 
 
 **How quickly our fine ball has broken up. Why, some of the 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 131 
 
 ladies even fainted, and some said they were never so insulted in all 
 their lives. The heartless things!" But Cubby stopped any further 
 soliloquism by throwing his arms around her in a consoling manner 
 and said in a pathetic voice: 
 
 *' Dear Willet, I'm so glad you turned your pockets out, and didn't 
 pour the diamonds on me with the perfumery; for how could such a 
 gentle being as me, bear even the suspicin of such a dreadful thing ? 
 To think that our grand birthnight ball should end with such a catas- 
 trophe. Well, all is vanity!" 
 
 '^There's a mystery about them diamants that I don't like. When's 
 the trial to be.?" 
 
 "As soon as possible. My lady's out on bail, but wants her honorable 
 name cleared. Ah ! she should not have let vanity get the better of 
 her." 
 
 **What! do you suppose she stole them?" 
 
 *' Of course ; how else could they have got into her ladyship's 
 pocket.?" 
 
 *'And do you suppose a lady would descend to such a thing ?" 
 
 "Why not ? They say you women folks would sell your souls 
 almost, for a bit of finery." 
 
 **They say! May I ask your highness who *they' are?" 
 
 "Mankind, the people, we, the world !" 
 
 *' Oh! we! then 'we' had better look into our pockets, and see if 
 gorgeous handkerchief *we' displayed last night hasn't transferred 
 itself into mine!" 
 
 "My charming Willet, I only wish it had, and me with it!" 
 
 "Then let me tell you, Mr. Cubby, my pockets would be shook into 
 the dust bin, as soon as my feet could carry me there!" and she 
 flounced out of the room as only an indignant woman can. 
 
 But Cubby only whistled, and thought what a tartar she was, when 
 Sir Francis entered the room, and told him to order Lady De Mille's 
 
132 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 carriage immediately. He felt so bitterly outraged and insulted that 
 his betrothed wife should have suffered such an indignity, and in the 
 house, too, of the lady who had always appeared to be such a dear 
 friend. He suspected some plot, but what could be the motive? He 
 could not even conceive of one. 
 
 He determined that he would plead her cause; knowing and feeling 
 her innocence as he did, he thought it would be easy to place the jury 
 en rapport with himself, and so cause her speedy vindication. 
 
 Clare's mother was nearly frantic, and rushing to Sir Francis, begged 
 him to save her innocent child, that the trial she knew would kill her. 
 
 "We should take an example from Lady Clare herself, who is so 
 conscious of her own innocence that she does not shed a tear. Did 
 you know that Lady Elmer offered to go her bail for twenty thousand 
 pounds?" 
 
 "Do not speak of that heartless woman! What wrong have we done 
 her that she should throw such a terrible suspicion on my darling 
 child?" 
 
 "It was all done in the excitement of the moment. Surely no 
 woman in her heart could so wish to injure another." " 
 
 "Ah, Sir Francis, you do not know women yet as I do. I have 
 lived in this world sixty-five years, and I tell you, the fury of wild 
 beasts, the terror of the tempest, the anger of man, are pleasant 
 experiences to the demoniac passion of a jealous woman." 
 
 Sir Francis knew this could not possibly be the motive, as he had 
 hardly spoken to the Lady Elmer. But Cubby announced the carriage 
 before he could reply. 
 
 Lady Elmer brought Clare to her mother. She had been uttering 
 phrases of consolation, but Clare had replied never a word. 
 
 Sir Francis pressed her hand tenderly, as he helped her into the 
 carriage; the pressure spoke sympathy, love, and belief in her inno- 
 cence. So Clare went home almost happy, thinking that the morrow 
 would clear up the mystery, and all would be bright again. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 133 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 What is so impressive as an English court of justice? The scarlet 
 and black robes, {he ermine, the wigs, the dim light, the silence, broken 
 only by the necessities of the trial; no flippant lawyer insulting wit- 
 nesses, to show to the world his wit; no ink-bottle throwing, or cane- 
 thrashing as occur sometimes in enlightened, deliberative bodies. All 
 is solemnity. Once seen, it is a picture never to be forgotten. 
 
 The massive stone building, with the ever memorable name, the 
 street itself, calling up so many legends of the past. Romantic, mel- 
 ancholy, blood-stirring, all are conducive to inspire awe as you approach, 
 and to lower your voice to a solemn monotone, as you enter the heavy 
 doorway. 
 
 Here in an ante-room, waiting for the verdict, were many relations 
 and servants of the two families, and nervous friends who would faint 
 at sight of all the paraphernalia of stern justice. Some were speaking 
 in little groups in whispers, some sat with hands folded, and dreamy 
 eyes gazing into vacancy. 
 
 But the quiet was suddenly disturbed by the door violently opening, 
 and Lady Ashley Downington entering in a rage followed by Jonquel 
 carrying her inseparable poodle, and Lord Butterfly bringing up the 
 rear. 
 
 "To think that I should be treated so ! What is the use of our 
 Magna Charta, if our personal liberty is to be so interfered with ? 
 Where I go. Master Pinkette goes, or I'll find out the meaning o 
 British liberty." 
 
 "Yeth, yeth, ith too bad. I would appeal to her Gr acious Majesty.' 
 
 "What harm did the dear little innocent darling do? Lm sure 
 
134 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 they ought to be pleased with his presence as a contrast where there's 
 so much guilt." 
 
 **Yeth, yeth; that's what I thayl" and Lord Butterfly laughed in a 
 way we should call — well, rather idiotic. 
 
 "He did not bark even, but was watching proceedings with more 
 interest than half the bipeds there, if he is a quadruped." 
 
 "Yeth, yeth; he — he looked quite withe!" and he .laughed again. 
 
 "The Barbarians! To think we should suffer the indignity of — 
 well, to put it in the politest terms possible, the effect is the same — 
 we are turned out." 
 
 "Yeth, so it seems;" and he consoled her with the peculiar laugh. 
 
 The ladies all said it was too bad, and petted and caressed Pinkette 
 till he looked sour. For quite a time he was the centre of interest, 
 and the trial was forgotten. Each lady that owned a canine pst, told 
 each other lady of its pains and troubles and its dear cunning little 
 tricks; and several fast friendships were made then and there, by rev- 
 elations of mutual sympathy. And Lady Downington added two 
 more names to her visiting list for the same reason. 
 
 After the subject was fully exhausted, they suddenly became inter- 
 ested in the proceedings of the trial. 
 
 **Was it going against poor Lady Clare ?" asked a nervous lady friend ? 
 
 "Indeed I could not tell. I was so engaged watching my little 
 darling here I had no eyes or ears for aught else. " 
 
 But we will leave these people of petty hearts and brains, whose 
 lives are made up of twaddle and dogs, whose sluggish blood is only 
 stirred by danger to their pets; who could sympathize with the stom- 
 ach-ache of a poodle, forgetting that the hopes of a human life were 
 being shattered, and that a mother's heart was suffering the intense 
 agony a mother alone can fee]. 
 
 In the court Lady Clare, pale as death, stood in the prisoner's box, 
 her mother as near her as allowed; but, oh, how changed! Her gray 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 135 
 
 ringlets of one short week ago, were now as white as snow, and the 
 lines about her face had deepened as if by years of sorrow. 
 
 Lady Elmer, with a face almost as pale as Clare's, listened with an 
 intense eagerness to every word. 
 
 The clerk called in that peculiar voice: 
 
 "Prisoner at the bar, do you plead guilty or not guilty?" 
 
 Clare stood up and replied in a low voice, but so intense that 
 every one could hear — ^yes, and feel too. 
 
 "Not guilt)'!" 
 
 "Policeman No. 5 !" called the clerk, and as he entered the box 
 the Queen's counsel began his questioning. 
 
 "On the night of the 3d of June, were you called to the house of 
 Lord Charles Lucius Dudley in your official capacity?" 
 
 "I was." 
 
 "For what purpose were you called ?" 
 
 "Lady Elmer Dudley complained of being robbed; I was called to 
 detect and arrest the thief." 
 
 "What persons were present at the time ?" 
 
 "Lady Elmer Dudley, the prisoner, Sarah Willet and Alphonse 
 Cubby." 
 
 ' 'Whom did Lady Elmer Dudley suspect of the robbery ?" 
 
 "She addressed to her maid, Sarah Willet, these words: 'Willet, 
 what have you done wilh them ?" 
 
 Willet could not sit quiet and hear this imputation on her character 
 before so many people, so jumping up she said quickly: 
 
 **But I had never laid my fingers on them, my lord." 
 
 "Silence in the court!" 
 
 "Were the actions of Sarah Willet suspicious ?" continued the coun- 
 sel. 
 
 "Not at all, my lord; she turned her pockets inside out,- and 
 seemed willing and anxious to prove her innocence." 
 
136 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "That will do." 
 
 "Lady Elmer Dudley!" called the clerk. And all eyes were turned 
 on the beautiful lady, who seemed to suffer for her friend more than 
 she did for herself. 
 
 "On the night of June the 3d you lost some valuable diamonds; 
 whom did you suspect of the theft ?" 
 
 "My lord—" 
 
 "Please answer the court direct " 
 
 "Lady Clare De Mille and myself alone were present," and she 
 hung her head as if in deep grief. 
 
 "Had the prisoner expressed any admiration of them previously, or 
 showed in any way that she coveted them .?" 
 
 "She had remarked about my diamonds sparkling so brightly, that I 
 tried them in her ears; looking at herself in the glass, she said, 'they 
 are finer than any I possess.' " 
 
 "When did you miss them .?" 
 
 '*A few moments afterward, when we were about to return to the 
 ball room." 
 
 "That will do, your ladyship." And Elmer bowed and returned to 
 her place, the picture of a witness who had unwillingly given pain to a 
 dear friend. 
 
 Again the policeman was called. 
 
 "Did the prisoner appear willing to be searched.''" 
 
 "She declined, saying she was an Earl's daughter." 
 
 "My lord, my daughter had a letter in her pocket, she did not wish 
 made public; it was a proposal of — " 
 
 "Silence in the court!" 
 
 **0h, my lord, let me speak for my child; she is my only daughter, 
 and I know how good she is." 
 
 The poor mother burst into an agony of tears, but calmed the ex- 
 hibition of her grief, on being told very kindly and gently by an officer 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 137 
 
 sent by the Judge, that she must not speak in court unless she was 
 questioned. 
 
 **What else occured on the night aforesaid?" 
 
 "Lady Elmer Dudley seemed most anxious that I should leave the 
 house remembering that the prisoner and herself alone were present. 
 Sir Francis Hilton threatened me with personal violence should I per- 
 form my duty, but the prisoner calling on Heaven to witness her in- 
 nocence, without thinking, pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, 
 and the diamonds fell on the floor!" There was a sensation in the 
 court, but Willet jumped up again, saying emphatically: 
 
 "But I don't believe she put them there." 
 
 "Silence in the court!" and the irrepressible Willet sat down with a 
 jerk. Sir Francis Hilton was called as the next witness, and it was a 
 study to watch the faces of Clare and Elmer, as he gave his testimony 
 After several questions he was asked if he had witnessed the falling of 
 the diamonds from the prisoner's handkerchief. 
 
 "I did, but believe they came there by accident. " 
 
 "We wish facts, and not opinions. What is your knowledge of the 
 character of the prisoner at the bar.?* Has it always stood well, previously, 
 for honesty ?" 
 
 "I will cross swords with you, my lord, for this insult!" He grasped 
 the hilt of his sword, but poor Clare cried out: 
 
 "Oh, Sir Francis, speak for me ; tell them you have known me 
 since a little child, and that I never, in thought, word, or deed, broke 
 the holy eighth commandment!" Many eyes were wet with tears, and 
 many hearts felt pity for the beautiful, pale Lady Clare. The Judge 
 asked the Queen's counsel if he had any more witnesses to call. 
 
 "None, my lord!" But Cubby was quite disappointed at not having 
 the notoriety of being a witness in this case, and muttered soito voce: 
 
 "They don't ask me anything!" The Judge then said: 
 
138 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "The case for the prosecution is then closed. Counsel for the 
 prisoner." 
 
 Elmer arose in agitation, and asked in a seemingly imploring voice : 
 
 " My Lord, may I not speak for my friend ?" But the Judge shook 
 his head, and Sir Francis arose and commenced his argument. 
 
 * 'My lord, and gentlemen, it is with intense pain that I see so 
 estimable a lady injured by the least breath of such a foul suspicion. 
 For those who know her, she needs no defence. Her blameless life, 
 her filial love, her divine charity, give a verdict in her favor that the 
 opinion of no jury in England could outweigh. It is true the circum- 
 stances of the case appear against her, but let us pause and observe 
 the picture. Two ladies — friends — retire for a few moments to rest 
 after the fatigue of the dance; with girlish playfulness they admire 
 each other's jewelry, seeing if this or that is becoming to them ; they 
 are standing by the dressing table ; the earrings are placed in dainty 
 ears by loving fingers ; being duly admired, the fleecy handkerchief is 
 laid upon the table while the earrings are withdrawn, and for the mo- 
 ment quite forgotten. What more natural than that the slender 
 golden wires should catch in the meshes of the lace, and they should 
 find themselves where their presence would condemn as guilty the 
 most innocent of women ? Their owner, in the first anguish of their 
 fancied loss, exclaiming she is robbed ! 
 
 *' Now let us reason why the prisoner should not commit the theft 
 of which she is accused. First, had she desired an exact counterpart 
 of the earrings belonging to her friend, she had only to mention her 
 wish to an indulgent mother ; then the lady herself is singularly free 
 from the little vanities of her sex. Would she soil the escutcheon 
 that, since the founding of the family, has been unsullied, for the grat- 
 ification of a mere whim ? 
 
 " Brought up by a conscientious mother, she has been taught what 
 is due to Heaven and man. Would she then violate every right of 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 139 
 
 sacred hospitality for a mere bauble? Look at the lady herself, the 
 picture of innocence, grieved to the heart at an unjust accusation 1 
 Look at the mother, bowed down with anguish that none but a mother 
 can know ! What can compensate her for her sufferings ? Not even 
 the hope, nay, the certainty of the speedy relief of the daughter so 
 loved, so prayed for ! My lord, and gendemen of the jury, I rest the 
 case on its merits alone, beseeching you to relieve the anguish of the 
 mother and the humiliation of the daguhter, as quickly as human 
 justice will permit you." Again that sensation in court like a gentle 
 breeze passing through a grove on a Summer day. 
 
 The Queen's counsel arose : 
 
 ** My lord, and gentlemen of the jury !" Then dropping the def- 
 erential tone, a slight smile lit up his face and a tinge of sarcasm, like 
 a thread, was interwoven with his words. " My learned friend has de- 
 picted, with great pathos, the sufferings of an innocent victim ! Let 
 us turn to the evidence ; that must be our guide to justice. 
 
 " Not being intimately acquainted with the prisoner, I cannot affirm 
 from personal knowledge, as my learned brother does, that she is 
 singularly free from the vanities of her sex. Turning to the evidence* 
 we find that the looking glass was the same to her as to the rest of 
 Eve's daughters ; that she admired trinkets and possessed them, and 
 in her own words the diamonds of her friend were finer than any she 
 possessed; that, my lord, is the key to the whole transaction. 
 
 " Do we not know that even a king cannot brook a rival monarch's 
 possessing finer jewels than himself ? 
 
 ''The refusal to be searched — the flimsy excuse of the letter, the 
 jewels found secreted on her person, is prima facie evidence of her 
 guilt. Does the case stand so isolated and alone in English jurispru- 
 dence that it has no counterpart ? Does a tide and a fortune preven^ 
 crime ! Alas, our records say no ! 
 
 " What is it, then, so calls for sympathy in the prisoner's case '^. Had 
 
140 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 it been one of the people, no noble lord would have volunteered his 
 maiden effort in her defence ; had it been one of the people — one of 
 the lower class, and instead of diamonds to adorn her person, it had 
 been bread to fill a starving mouth, how soon would the floor of a 
 prison be her resting place, and the rats and spiders her companions ? 
 And shall this prisoner go free because her dress is silk and her face is 
 fair, when neither want nor poverty tempted her ; only the covetuous- 
 ness of a vain heart ? 
 
 " Do not let justice change its name to condemnation for the half 
 starved poor, and acquittal for the guilty rich ! I, too, my lord, rest 
 the case on its merits !" 
 
 Clare looked like one stupified, but a strange gleam shone in Elmer's 
 eyes. The judge then rose and gave his charge to the jury. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the jury, we are here as Heaven's ministers of jus- 
 tice! Compassion, pity, personal consideration, must not influence 
 your decision. Were we only disciples of the of Goddess Pity, a 
 woman's tears, a mother's prayers, would outweigh all other consid- 
 erations ; but stern justice must be blind to all the gentle emotions. 
 
 "If the evidence in the case points to the prisoner as innocent, your 
 verdict must be acquittal, or if there is even a doubt in your minds, 
 the verdict must be for acquittal. But if you believe, and agree, that 
 the accused did purposely and feloniously secrete the diamonds, your 
 verdict must be for condemnation !" Then there was a slight buzz all 
 over the court, then silence. 
 
 The jury consulted together without leaving their box. Clare 
 seemed to listen with her eyes. After a pause of intense anxiety, the 
 foreman arose and delivered the verdict : 
 
 "We, the jury, after carefully considering the evidence of the case, 
 find the prisoner guilty of the charge in the indictment !" 
 
 The De Mille party appeared stunned. The Judge then addressed 
 Clare : 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 141 
 
 " Prisoner at the bar, stand up. Have you anything to say against 
 the finding of the jury ?" 
 
 Clare arose, trembling. 
 
 *' My lord, I am overwhelmed with surprise and confusion, that men 
 who profess to be advocates of Heaven's divine justice, should count 
 as guilty any one, no matter what evidence of innocence their whole 
 life should give, who is only suspected of a crime. Oh, my lord, let 
 my mother's tears- speak for me. Have mercy ! have mercy ! or you 
 will break her heart !" She could say no more, but sank, weeping, 
 into her seat, and the Judge gave sentence. 
 
 " Prisoner, the high position you hold, the purity of a long line of 
 ancestors, your wealth, all should have been bars to your committing 
 such a disreputable crime, plunging your family into such deep grief. 
 But vanity and cupidity proved too strong. They have been the cause 
 of more falls from virtue than poverty and hatred combined. As a 
 punishment for your crime and to deter others from following in your 
 steps and sharing your fate, we condemn you to seven years of servi- 
 tude and exile in the Island of Australia 1" 
 
 With a shriek, Clare fell senseless to the floor. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 Six months had passed since Lady Clare had been sent to Australia. 
 No efforts had been spared to obtain her release, but all were unavail- 
 ing. 
 
 Lady Elmer was gayer than ever. She seemed to seek excitement 
 with a feverish eagerness that acquaintances thought heartlessness, but 
 friends considered the strivings of a tender nature to momentarily for- 
 get the pain caused by a friend's sufferings — sufferings, too, she had 
 apparently tried so perseveringly to alleviate. 
 
142 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 One morning, Willet was clipping the dead leaves from the vines in 
 a hanging basket in the morning room. She was standing on a table 
 with the morning paper under her feet, and she thus gave vent to her 
 thoughts: 
 
 ''Well, some people can clip, and clip away at their consciences 
 just as I clip these vines, and it don't seem to hurt them a bit — more 
 contrary- wise, they thrive on the treatment, just as these vines do. Six 
 months ago my lady's dearest friend was sent to that dreadful Austra- 
 lia, yet she now lives in a perfect whirligig of pleasure and excitement; 
 but when she comes home at night, or rather in the morning, and 
 throws off her beautiful clothes, she looks so pale and haggard, that 
 my heart really aches for her; and I wonder why she goes out so much 
 if it makes her feel so bad, when her friend's in such sad trouble }" 
 She got down from the table and surveyed her work critically, even if 
 she was thinking of something else, 
 
 " Then, too, why does Sir Francis come here so much ? 'Tain't 
 as a lover, for he's so cautious like; but my lady's desparately in love 
 with him; she couldn't hide it from a cat!" Then she gaped and 
 looked around for the most comfortable place to take a rest. The 
 room was exquisitely furnished, with all the taste of a passionate, edu- 
 cated woman; furnished, too, to harmonize with her clear, dark beau- 
 ty, and to form a fitting background for the picture she made when 
 she entered it. 
 
 " Heigh-ho!" and she sank down in a crimson satin easy chair, 
 with a great deal of lazy pleasure. " I'm a little ' onweed ' myself, 
 with so much gaiety. My lady won't ring for some time, so I'll regale 
 myself with a little intellectual food." So she took the paper and be- 
 gan at the top. '"Bonnets from Paris.' I don't want any. 'Im- 
 mense sacrifice of dry goods.' Sacrifices ahead, it doesn't interest me. 
 * Murder of a young lady by her lover.' Ah! that's interesting. 
 What's this just after the murder. ' Departure of Sir Francis Hilton 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 143 
 
 for Ausralia.' Oho! what's up? A rescue I shouldn't wonder. 
 How romantic!" She had her back to the door, with her feet stretched 
 out on an ottoman; she had a small foot and rather liked to look at 
 her pretty slippers; but Lady Elmer had entered, and walking across 
 the room stood in front of her before she noticed her presence, then 
 she jumped up confused and blushing. 
 
 '* Beg pardon my lady; I did not know you were stirring, but 
 thought as you wouldn't want me for a short time I'd rest a bit and 
 read the news. Look what I saw — ' Departure of Sir Francis Hilton 
 for Austrailia!' " 
 
 " Where ? Let me see it quick !" and she grasped the paper with 
 an eagerness that did not at all surprise the far-seeing Willet. 
 
 " There, next to the interesting murder of a young lady." She 
 motioned for Willet to leave the room. She read the brief announce- 
 ment and it seemed to rack her very soul. 
 
 "What does it mean? Is he going there to release her. Have I 
 sacrificed peace and happiness, and imperiled my soul's salvation, to 
 be as far from the fulfillment of my wishes, as when I was innocent ? 
 I must prevent his going, but how ? My terrible love has not been 
 rewarded by one kind word, so what influence can I bring to bear 
 sufficiently powerful to compel him to change his determination ? 
 What a weak thing is a woman! Weak in a thousand ways, having 
 the will so strong yet powerless to execute. " 
 
 Here Willet knocked at the half open door, but Elmer not noticing 
 it, she put her head in and said: 
 
 "Lady Ashley Downington is in the blue parlor." 
 
 *'Must I endure that tedious old woman when my brain is on fire 
 to be at work? But Lady Ashley had followed Willet, considering 
 herself a privileged friend, and entered a moment after she was an- 
 nounced as being in the blue parlor. She was old and eccentric, and 
 led her beloved *'Pinkette" a rather pretty white poodle, by blue and 
 
144 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 red ribbons. In her actions she was a youthful old lady, and talked 
 quite gushingly. 
 
 ''My dear Elmer, I knew after our conversation last night that you 
 would be as anxious to see me as I am to see you, so I did not wait 
 for ceremony, hoping to catch you in delightful dishabille^ so that I 
 could tell his lordship that beauty unadorned is adorned the most; 
 really and truly in your case — well, how d'ye do? You may kiss me 
 on the left cheek, but respect the rouge, dear." 
 
 Elmer shook her hand, but scarcely touched her cheek with her 
 lips, she was so annoyed. Then she asked her to sit down, which she 
 did, taking the dog on her lap. 
 
 ''I am glad to see you so well, after the gaieties of last night." 
 
 **Well ? I was never better in all my life. I shall outwear a dozen 
 of you young people yet! And wasn't the ball last night a magnificent 
 success! and the dresses! but your's was the loveliest in the room — so I 
 told Lord Butterfly — you see I call him Butterfly, because he always 
 wears such loves of neckties! 'Butterfly,' said I, 'Look at Lady Elmer 
 Dudley; she is dressed the loveliest and in the most recherche taste of 
 any lady in the room.' " 
 
 "Indeed you were very complimentary, Lady Downington; I sup- 
 pose I ought to be grateful." 
 
 *'Not at all, my dear — you see I want the excitement of a little 
 match-making, and I know of no two people in the United Kingdom, 
 so suited to each other as your sweet ladyship and my Butterfly. He's 
 a perfect Monte Cristo for wealth! and how you could spend it! A 
 villa on the Rhine, dear, and every Summer a little ecarte at that de- 
 lightful Baden-Baden ! Then, too, the poor fellow is desperately in 
 love. I boldly accused him of it last night, and he replied, * Pon 
 honor now ; ah ! really ! So you see you have only to smile upon him 
 to be one of the very richest ladies of England." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 145 
 
 ** Then I am afraid I shall remain Elmer Dudley many years to 
 come." 
 
 " Oh ! don't ! for an old maid with a dozen pet cats is abominable !" 
 Elmer could not help smiling, and pointing to the dog, said : 
 
 "Would a dozen King Charles' make it any better?" 
 
 "Ah! that is very different! But maiden ladies rarely take to them. 
 By the way, don't you think Pinkette is looking very miserable ? Doc- 
 tor Take-all-De-Tour has been his physician for six months, but if he 
 does not improve shortly under his treatment, I shall really have to 
 send to the Continent for help, or take him there myself. Poor little 
 darling, your eyes look so dull to-day!" and she patted his head; but 
 he whined and barked so that she was frightened. "Listen! I know 
 that he is taken worse!" Then turning to Willet, she said: My good 
 girl, won't you call my footman?" ' 
 
 "Yes, my lady;" then she added aside: "I wouldn't own a dog," 
 and went on her errand. Elmer was patting her foot impatiently, and 
 muttered under her breath: "That I should be annoyed thus!" 
 
 "Don't you pity me my sweet Elmer ? Why should he get ill ? He 
 has lived on nothing but fruit cake and delicacies for the year past." 
 
 "You had better show him to the doctor yourself immediately, and 
 let him prescribe his food." Here Willet showed in the footman, a 
 tall, sedate looking personage, who looked more fit for taking orders 
 than taking care of dogs. 
 
 "Do you think so ? As you are so very kind, I know you will pity 
 my distress, and allow Doctor De-Tour to attend him here; it is so much 
 nearer than Castle Place." Elmer bit her lip till the blood came, 
 "Jonquil!" 
 
 "My Lady!" 
 
 "Tell my coachman to drive as fast as possible to Doctor De Tour's, 
 Swiss Cottage; you know the place, and bring him here immediately." 
 
 "Yes, my Lady!" 
 
146 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 ''Tell him to bring his case of instruments and chloroform." Then 
 turning to Elmer: "There might have to be some blood letting. You 
 know, my dear, that Tinkette' and myself would both have to be put 
 under its influence, for I certainly should faint to see the darling suffer." 
 
 ' 'What a pity you have no children." 
 
 **0h, I have, my dear! but they never cause me the anxiety that 
 this poor helpless darling does. And Jonquil, bring him 2.paie de/nie 
 gras'y the poor pet may need to eat after his medicine. Quick, Jon- 
 quil." 
 
 "Yes my lady;" and the tall man bent his back like a hinge and 
 
 withdrew, Willet courtesying coquettishly, but unavailingly, to him. 
 
 **How I envy you, Elmer; your mind so free from the terrible 
 anxieties that I suffer. No sleepless nights, and loss of morning naps, 
 no nightmare of poor suffering canines, nothing to think of but the 
 latest novel and newest bonnet;" and she petted and caressed her dog 
 and was oblivious to aught else. Elmer, who had torn a beautiful 
 bouquet to pieces that stood on the table near her, walked to the 
 window and muttered: 
 
 " Did she but know my terrible sufferings! but could a young 
 loving heart ever have beaten in that Vv'ithered bosom .? Why does 
 she not go.? Oh! how I suffer!" and she threw herself impatiently on 
 a sofa. 
 
 "■ I think he is slightly better. Oh! I am so thankful!" 
 
 **Well, I never!" said Willet, throwing up her hands in disgust. 
 But the bell rang and she left the room." 
 
 " I hope that is Doctor Take-all-De-Tour." 
 
 ** I trust it is;" and she added in thought, " and that I shall soon 
 be rid of you and your puerile sorrows." 
 
 Jonquil, carrying a case of instruments, bowed in Doctor De-Tour. 
 Fussy and the Frenchiest of French, with a dancing master's step, and 
 an opera singer's shoulder shrug. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 147 
 
 "Jonquil here, he tell me you want me immediate for le jolichien," 
 Then seeing Elmer he bowed low. "Bon jour, madam!" She 
 scarcely noticed him. *'Bon jour ma ladi!" this to Lady Ashley, who 
 was too occupied to return his salutation. 
 
 *'Wat has de leetle dog?" and he took his paw and felt his pulse 
 with all becoming gravity. "Von large fevar." 
 
 "Oh! doctor, give him the pleasantest medicine possible. I would 
 rather pay two fees for a bread pill, provided it cured poor 'Pinkette,' 
 than have him dosed with something unpleasant to take." But the 
 doctor still held his paw, and took out his watch to count his pulse. 
 Elmer looked on with contempt, but Lady Ashley was all anxiety. 
 
 "What can you do for him, dear doctor.?" 
 
 **Ma ladi, him pulse beatvar quick; von, two, tree, four hundred 
 times in von sixty second." 
 
 "Poor darling ! what shall we do for him.?" 
 
 "Ma ladi, you take him home — " Elmer looked thankful — "and 
 soak him four feet in varm vater, then give him some medicine vat I 
 sail rite; put him in his leetle bed, make no much noise, and in de 
 morning he vill be veil." 
 
 "Oh! doctor, I am so thankful that you may kiss my hand!" And 
 as he did so, she dropped a purse into his hand. 
 
 ^'Merci, ma lady!" Then he wrote a perscription, and gave her. 
 "Bon jour, madame! I have von thousand and von visit to make to-day. 
 Bon jour!" and he bowed himself out. Jonquil took him his case, 
 and returned with a covered dish. 
 
 "My lady, here is the patty foi gras. He had not studied French. 
 
 Willet was near the door, and she said: 
 
 "All this ado about a dog! Why, she couldn't make more fuss if it 
 had been a handsome young man." 
 
 "I am sorry 'Pinkette' should have been so inconvenient, dear 
 Elmer; good-by." 
 
148 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 **Good morning, Lady Downington; I trust your terrible anxiety 
 will soon be over." But Lady Ashley did not notice the sarcasm, and 
 warmly shook her hand. 
 
 ''Thank you, dear." She tenderly placed the dog in jonquil's arms, 
 then turning again to Elmer said with her former gaiety: "But please 
 don't forget Butterfly, Rich as Croesus, and desperately in love." And 
 at last she went away followed by Jonquil carrying the dog as if it had 
 been the tenderest and most precious thing in the world; this time he 
 bowed stiffly to Wil let's coquetting. 
 
 **Gone! What a relief! Oh! that I were like her; could amuse 
 myself with a poor dog, and forget my grief." 
 
 "My lady, isn't her ladyship queer? Oh! I wouldn't be waiting 
 maid to her for all the wealth of the Indies! What with tending her 
 dog, and feeding, her dog, and most hkely rocking it to sleep, a poor 
 girl's life would be worn out." 
 
 " You are with me, let that content you. Bring me my desk. 
 What — what can I do to prevent his going?" Willet brought the 
 desk, and she sat and thought; but her face soon brightened as if the 
 thought she wanted had come, and she wrote rapidly. 
 
 ** I wonder what's the matter now ?" said Willet. ** Oh, this love, 
 but it does make a goose of one!" 
 
 " Take this to Sir Francis Hilton; lose no time!" 
 
 " Yes, my lady — but she's impatient," and she left the room. 
 
 Lady Elmer raised her hands to Heaven as if imploring a blessing, 
 but her words were: 
 
 " Oh! desparate woman's guardian spirit, assist me now." 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 Sir Francis Hilton was impatiently pacing his chambers, waiting 
 for the earliest moment he would be allowed on the ship. He looked 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 149 
 
 pale and care-worn, and several years older than he did on the night 
 of the ball, and had he spoken his thoughts they would have been — 
 
 " This terrible uncertainty is wearing my life away. No answer to 
 all my letters, save a few words that while her name rested under this 
 dark cloud, it was better not to correspond; and that till she was de- 
 clared innocent, I should be free. And what is free ? To be unfet- 
 tered by a promise, yet to be bound heart and soul by love? To wan- 
 der for months, heartsick and weary, leaving nothing unattempted to 
 obtain her release, yet all in vain ? To be thousands of miles away — 
 cruel seas and more cruel laws dividing us ? Is this freedom ? But 
 to-day my heart feels lighter, for the good ship Britannia shall 
 quickly bear me across the unkind miles, then at least I can see her 
 again; there is happiness in the very thought." 
 
 Cubby knocked at the door, then announced Lady De Mille. Sir 
 Francis kissed her hand, and called her "mother." 
 
 *' My son!" and she embraced him; "for have you not been a son 
 to me since my poor Clare went away ? I was so impatient to send 
 my child these little mementoes and my blessing, that I could not 
 wait for you to come;" and she gave him a beautiful inlaid casket or 
 box with a little key tied to it. 
 
 "My mother, would that I could take you with me. How her 
 heart would bound with joy!" 
 
 " Only for her express wish that I should remain and see her 
 brother on his return from India, nothing but death could separate us.# 
 Tell her he will soon be here, then, if we cannot obtain her release 
 we will both come to her." 
 
 " Next to her release it would be the happiest news I could bring" 
 her." 
 
 ** Tell her that I, her poor bereaved mother, bade her be of good 
 cheer; that nightly my prayers ascend to Heaven for her welfare. 
 Tell her for my sake to be as happy as she can, remembering her 
 
160 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 own innocence, and that nothing can shake our faith in her. Heaven* 
 grant you a safe and speedy voyage, and a happy meeting with my 
 Clare! Good-by! my heart is so full that I must go and weep." 
 
 **Good-by my mother; I will remember all your loving messages!" 
 And he kissed her forehead and led her gently to her carriage. A 
 moment after he returned, Cubby again knocked, and being told to 
 come in said: 
 
 *' My lord, there is a young person below, who says she must see 
 Sir Francis Hilton personally." 
 
 " I am in great haste; what can she want ?" 
 
 "She did not say, my lord." 
 
 " Then show her up immediately, for I cannot waste a moment. I 
 must not be detained for I have some business to attend to before I 
 leave England !" Cubby showed up Willet, and bowing to her very 
 ceremoniously left the room. 
 
 Willet courtesied and said: 
 
 " My lady sends you this letter, my lord, in great haste." 
 
 " What is your lady's name ?" 
 
 " Lady Elmer Dudley." Sir Francis for reply thrust the letter 
 angrily into his pocket. 
 
 " Is there any answer, my lord." 
 
 ' * None !" and he walked to the window. 
 
 "Well, his lordship isn't very polite! My lady wouldn't feel flat- 
 tered if she knew how he treated her letter!" Then aloud to Cubby, 
 who reappeared at the door, ignoring their former acquaintance: 
 
 "Young man, show me out." 
 
 "I will with pleasure, your ladyship!" 
 
 " I suppose you think you are very killing, Mr. Cubby .?" 
 
 " Oh! no; I am not a butcher to kill a lamb — a catamount.?" 
 
 "Umphl" and Willet flounced out of the room, followed by Cubby, 
 who enjoyed her Httle display of temper. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 151 
 
 "What can she want with me ? I suppose I must read her letter;'^ 
 and Sir Francis unwillingly read: 
 
 **My Good Friend: I am compelled to go in haste to Australia, 
 on business that I must attend to personally. I am so glad to have 
 the opportunity of going in the same ship with a friend. I bring my 
 maid and every — " he crushed the letter back into his pocket, 
 * ' What takes her to Australia ? Is it another plot against the Lady 
 Clare, or does she take this opportunity of seeing and asking the for- 
 giveness of the gentle being she has so deeply wronged ? How shall 
 I endure a long voyage with a woman who strangely repels yet terribly 
 attracts and fascinates me to her, as a serpent would ? As I cannot 
 prevent her going, I will watch her every action. I suppose I must 
 answer her letter.'' And he sat down to his desk, and spreading out 
 the crumpled note finished reading it. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 The ship Britannia had just left the dock, and all was bustle and 
 confusion; the captain giving orders to the mate, the sailors setting 
 sails, pulling ropes, and singing lively, inspiring tar songs, that one 
 never hears but on a sailing vessel. Nearly all the passengers were 
 waving handkerchiefs. Sir Francis was leaning pensively on the bul- 
 warks thinking. 
 
 "The white cliffs of England will soon disappear. Oh! my dear 
 country, shall I return to you a happy man, or as a heart broken son 
 to his mother to die and be forgotten!" Lady Elmer came 
 to his side, and said gently: 
 
 " Sad so soon, Sir Francis ? How will you endure these long 
 months of ocean life ?" 
 
 " I shall become accustomed to, and perhaps enjoy it in a few days." 
 
152 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Then he turned and spoke to the captain, and Elmer saj'-ing " I hope 
 so," walked a litde distance, and looked toward shore through her 
 opera glass. ^ 
 
 Willet stopped waving her handkerchief suddenly and began to cry. 
 Cubby watched her for a few moments. " Well, I can't watch this 
 long," he thought. " Lovely woman in distress would melt the flintiest 
 heart." Then going to her he said gently: "Willet!" But she 
 cried the louder. " What's the matter Willet.? What is it, dear Wil- 
 let .?" and he pulled the handkerchief from her eyes. 
 
 **To think that — I had- to leave England — for so many months — 
 without having time to — to — " 
 
 "To what, dear Willet?" 
 
 " To — to — " still she cried. 
 
 " To bid your mother good-by ?" 
 
 '^ No— to— " 
 
 **To see your sister ?" 
 
 " No! to buy a new bonnet!" and she left him, crying angrily. 
 
 "Tut! tut! tut!" and he went to another part of the deck in dis- 
 gust. Willet wiped her eyes with a great deal of show, and sniffling a 
 little went up to Elmer and said: 
 
 ''Do you think you will like this old ship, my Lady ? I shan't!" 
 
 " It will be very pleasant after a few days, if we have no storms." 
 Again she turned and looked through her glasses. 
 
 " Umph! I suppose it will for her, with the one she loves in the 
 same house with her, as it were, and no rival near." And she watched 
 Elmer as slie lingered near Sir Francis, and saw him introduce her to 
 the captain. *' I shouldn't wonder if she caught him after all. I sup- 
 pose I must make friends with that Cubby, or it will be dreadful lonely 
 to have no one to talk to." 
 
 The captain ordered lunch to be brought to his cabin, then turning 
 to Elmer, said: 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 153 
 
 " Lady Dudley, I have a very fine chart of the route we will take. 
 My Lord, will you accompany us to my cabin, and I will explain it ?" 
 
 " Oh, I thank you!" said Elmer, pleased to be brought into such 
 close company with Sir Francis. 
 
 What woman but thinks, give her the time and opportunity, that 
 she can bring any man to her feet? And they are nearly right, too. 
 
 Sir Francis felt he must accept the invitation though he would much 
 rather have remained alone, with his thoughts for company. 
 
 The Captain offered his arm to Elmer and they all went into his 
 cabin. 
 
 The Captain's cabin is always a cosy, comfortable spot, easy chairs 
 and sofas, pictures, books, fine wines, and lots of nice little things hid 
 away; curiosities, fruits and nuts. It breaks the monotony of a long 
 voyage to be friends with the captain. Oh ! the sea yarns he can tell ! 
 Sinbad's adventures are scarcely more wonderful than stories Tve heard 
 these captains relate. 
 
 Willet began to experience she was not on shore. 
 
 "I — I begin to feel very faint. Will you be kind enough to help me 
 to the cabin, Mr. Cubby.'' I fear I'm not a sailor." 
 
 "Oh! don't give up so soon." 
 
 *T can't help it;" and they walked to the steps leading to the cabin. 
 "I'm so faint." 
 
 This was the first time either of them had been to sea, and the ex- 
 perience is not always quite pleasant; so it was not surprising that 
 Cubby suddenly clapped his hands on his stomach, and exclaimed, 
 looking pretty pale: "Oh, dear! and I'll keep you company." And 
 they neither of them reappeared that day. 
 
 A long voyage on a sailing vessel makes a little isolated world of 
 the travelers. Who that has ever taken one, can forget the friendships 
 formed, the amusements, the little weekly paper, the concerts, the 
 many incidents, each one a picture painted in indellible colors on the 
 
164 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 memory? Many a heart, too, has found its mate, in those romantic 
 da}'s, watching the ever-changing sea and sky; so few to disturb the 
 fancy, that the one present seems the acme of perfection. It is so 
 hard to choose, when all the world is open to our^and; like the 
 dame who turns away and sighs at all the costly fabrics at her feet, 
 not knowing what to choose; give the same dame a choice of two, 
 and it is quickly made. 
 
 So our little world, the Britannia, moved on to Australia. 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 The day the ship arrived, Clare was at her work in the large lace 
 factory attached to the prison. 
 
 No magnetic influence told her of the nearness of her lover. This 
 second sight, as it were, this mind-reading, and will-compelling is very 
 rare, and those who possess these qualities are by no means the pleas- 
 antest of companions. 
 
 She was dressed in a neat, gray merino, with white collar and cuffs, 
 and her beautiful hair put back in a wavy roll. She was a picture as she 
 stopped for a moment, the sunlight from the high window just gilding 
 her hair, leaving her face in the shadow. Her head drooped as she 
 thought : 
 
 "How wearily the time passes! Will the seven years never be 
 over ? Must the sweetest portion of my youth be passed thus ? 
 Weave, weave, as if I were destiny weaving the fate of mortals! My 
 mother, too, though her letters try so hard to cheer me, yet I see the 
 tears beneath her kindest words. And Sir Francis! Oh! I must not 
 think of him till a prison ceases to be my home!" She turned quickly 
 to her work, and sought in it oblivion from distressing thoughts. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 155 
 
 The keeper entered with a gentleman. 
 
 "This is the lace factory," he said. Clare raised her eyes. 
 
 "Clare!" 
 
 "Sir Francis!" and he went quickly toward her. 
 
 "No communication with the prisoners, my lord." 
 
 **Ohl" and Clare dropped her head, weeping and humiliated. 
 
 * 'Elmer, who had been detained a moment at the door, now entered. 
 She saw Clare at once, and going toward her, exclaimed: 
 
 "My dear friend !" 
 
 "Lady Elmer!" The tone was that of surprise, just touched with 
 horror. 
 
 "Your ladyship must excuse me, but you must not speak to the 
 prisoners without a permit." 
 
 "Is that the rule, sir.?" 
 
 "It is, my lady." 
 
 "I am so sorry, for she is my friend; but I will see the Governor 
 to-day." She took Sir Francis' arm, and his face showed the annoy- 
 ance he felt. The keeper explained the uses of the different 
 machines, but Sir Francis turned a yearning look to Clare, then 
 they moved further away, and some machinery intervening, she was 
 shut from his view. 
 
 "Oh! why are they here.? Not with my release, or they would 
 have been allowed to speak to me. She holds his arm so lovingly — 
 are they married ? No, or he would not have greeted me as he did 
 just now. Oh ! what can it mean .?" They came into view again, 
 and she watched them eagerly. Just then the Governor entered, and 
 Sir Francis, after bowing, introduced him to Elmer. 
 
 "Ah! the Governor! Sir Francis speaks to him. He may yet obtain 
 my release! Oh! the joy would be too great!" 
 
 * ' Lady Elmer, one moment if you please." Bowing she passed 
 further on, and appeared to be deeply interested in the keeper's ex- 
 
156 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 planations. '' My lord, that lady," and he pointed to Clare, ** is a 
 friend of mine. Did you read the trial?" 
 
 ** I do not remember." 
 
 *'Then I will give you a brief description." 
 
 He told him of the pretended robbery and trial, and used his best 
 arguments to impress him favorably. The Governor appeared struck 
 with a sudden resolution. 
 
 " My lord, if I undertake to obtain her release, it is necessary I 
 should have a private interview wdth her. If I can do so, she shall 
 come to England as soon as possible, accompanied by a suitable com- 
 panion;" and the Governor drew him farther away from Clare. 
 
 *' But surely, after coming thousands of weary miles, I must not 
 leave her without a farewell word. 
 
 " Would not her release reward you for all your pains?" 
 
 ** Yes, a thousand times; but her gentle heart would b3 cruelly 
 wounded." 
 
 *'Let me explain ?" and he took him out of hearing of iht others. 
 
 " Gone! without a word! has he ceased to love me? Oh! 1 shall 
 die of grief and shame!" 
 
 Elmer spoke a moment to the Governor, then rushing to Clare, 
 threw her arms around her exclaiming: 
 
 "■ Oh! my poor Clare! what can I do for you ?" 
 
 But Clare stood motionless as stone, and almost as cold. 
 
 " Obtain my release," she said in a quiet, peculiar tone. 
 
 " How can I ? I have offered half my fortune to do so, but in 
 vain." 
 
 " Obtain my release!" 
 
 * ' I cannot." 
 
 *' Can I be mistaken ? or is her heart stone ?" then aloud: ** Lady 
 Elmer, did you ever love ?" 
 
 ** Alas! yes; so madly that I would peril my soul for a return." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 157 
 
 " Indeed?" in a peculiar voice. 
 
 *'And you love too? Why do you not try to escape ?" 
 
 " Because I am guilty of no crime, and my trying to escape would 
 be taken by some as proof positive of my guilt." 
 
 " But think; seven weary years to spend in this dreadful place. 
 Your companions thieves and murderers; your mother longing to 
 clasp you in her arms; your friends waiting for your return. 
 
 "And Sir Francis?" But Elmer sighed and drooped her head. 
 " What means that sigh ? Does he bsheve me guilty ? If he does, 
 the prison has no more terror for me." 
 
 " Oh! do not ask me, but try to escape." 
 
 *' If Sir Francis thinks me guilty, I have no desire to live — but I 
 would see my poor mother, and die upon her breast." And Clare 
 wept so despairingly that it touched even Elmer. 
 
 " Does my heart relent ? I must leave her or be lost!" and she 
 •hurried from her side. 
 
 Sir Francis and the Governor approached Clare. 
 
 " You will allow me to speak to her now, and I will leave Australia 
 on the ship that departs to-morrow." ' 
 
 "Certainly; I will remain here;" and he turned to Lady Elmer, 
 who soon appeared to be deeply interested in his description of this 
 wonderful, beautiful country, in which she would remain but such a 
 short time. Yet not a movement of Sir Francis or Clare escaped her 
 subtle glance. 
 
 Sir Francis had warmly greeted Clare. 
 
 ** Oh! my Clare, once more I clasp your hand, and — " he looked 
 defiantly at Elmer — ' ' I care not." And he folded her in his arms. 
 
 " Oh, my heart's chosen, how I have suffered!" 
 
 "And I, too!" weeping, her head drooped on his shoulder. 
 
 "Oh! do not weep. When I have traveled thousands of miles for 
 this happy moment, do not let me see tears in the eyes I so love ; for 
 
158 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 dearest, not for one moment has a doubt of your innocence crossed 
 my mind." 
 
 '*Then I am happy, even though a prison's walls surround me. 
 And my mother! you saw her; is she well? What message did she 
 send?" 
 
 '*Her undying love. She bids you be of good cheer. That when 
 your brother returns, if they cannot obtain your release, they will both 
 come to you." 
 
 "You bring me joyful news, indeed. Oh! I can bear up now, and 
 pity from my heart, the poor beings around me who have not my 
 hopes to sustain them." 
 
 "I have spoken to the Governor so that you will not be compelled 
 to work." 
 
 '*0h! Sir Francis, that was not a kindness! I should think myself 
 to death were I forced to be idle. Let me weave my lace, it has been 
 my friend, my comforter, when my heart was almost breaking." 
 
 "You shall keep your friend. I can easily imagine it has saved you 
 many an hour of heartache, for enforced idleness adds bitterly to 
 mental pain. Your dear mother sends you a casket containing some 
 remembrances. I will have it brought to you when you return to your 
 room, for you will leave your lace for the rest of the day, surely." 
 
 *'0h! yes; I have no need of such a friend now. When you return, 
 take my mother my dearest love. Tell her that I will try to bear up 
 for her sweet sake!" 
 
 The factory bell rang loudly, and the girls and women began to 
 move out in a slow, melancholy line. 
 
 ^^*'That is the dinner bell, and it is my greatest trial to eat before all 
 these staring eyes, some that exult to see me here, few that look in 
 pity." The Governor and Elmer now joined them. 
 
 "My lord, please let me dine alone to-day?" and Clare looked be- 
 seechingly into his face. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 159 
 
 ''Certainly, your ladyship, and every day if you choose." 
 
 "Oh, thanks!" 
 
 "Farewell, Clare, till we meet again!" and Sir Francis left her with 
 a kiss on her hand; but Elmer turned away without a word, the spirit 
 of a demon in her heart. 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 Clare's cell was a small room, furnished with a neat bed and several 
 chairs, a strip of matting, a few prints without frames, and a vase of 
 flowers. White curtains, held back with blue ribbons, graced the 
 window, ^nd a few ornaments and books on a table, took away the 
 prison look and made it quite homelike, thanks to her friend, the 
 sweet Beatrice, the Governor's fair and only daughter. 
 
 Clare had hastened here, awaiting the coming of the casket, and 
 now sat with her head resting on her hand, 
 
 "Am I really awake ? or is this but a dream — a dream of happiness 
 to cheat me awhile from sorrow ?" 
 
 Beatrice knocked gently at the door, then came in. 
 
 **See, dear Clare, what I have for you;" and she held up the beautiful 
 box. " The gentleman brought it all the way from England. I heard 
 him tell papa about it ; then I kissed papa and asked him to let me 
 bring it to you. Now give me my pay and I'll be off and leave you — 
 just fifteen minutes to look at the pretty things it contains, then I'm 
 coming back to see them, too." 
 
 Clare kissed her and said : 
 
 *• You are as angelic as your namesake. Come, and share my hap- 
 piness." 
 
 " I will," and she disappeared like a sunbeam. *' Every cloud has 
 a silver lining ; that dear girl is my cloud's silver lining." She held 
 
160 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 up the casket. " How familiar it looks ; in an instant it carries me 
 back to home and friends again. I know it's spring so well." And 
 she pressed a little golden rose and the lid flew up. She took from it 
 a long gold chain, to which was attached an old fashioned medallion, 
 surrounded with pearls and diamonds. 
 
 "My mother's portrait; dear, dear face, and kind, loving eyes. Are 
 they dimmed now by the many tears shed for your poor Clare ? They 
 shall brighten quickly, for Hope whispers I shall soon be free. Here 
 is my own little watch ; how thoughtful. What is this ? My Bible 1 
 I had forgotten it and the comfort it would bring me." She opened 
 the golden clasp, and there, inside, lay a letter and a lock of her 
 mother's hair. She kissed them both, then read the letter. 
 
 *' My Dear Child : Nothing shall shake our faith in you. When 
 you return, we will leave cold, cruel England, and live in beautiful 
 Venice, away from all our trials. You shall not have another unhappy 
 moment if a mother's loving heart can keep you from it. Do not 
 despond. I am only waiting your brother's return, then we will fly to 
 you, to bear you from that dreadful place or remain with you. Heaven 
 bless you always. Your loving, hoping Mother." 
 
 And Clare wept tears that relieved her over-burdened heart. 
 
 Beatrice knocked gently at the door, then entered. 
 
 ** Fifteen minutes up. Weeping 1 I hope that pretty box did not 
 cause those tears." 
 
 "They were only caused by joy dear friend. There, they shall not 
 annoy you." 
 
 " See what I have brought you ; roses for your hair;" and she 
 took out Clare's comb, and her beautiful hair fell in a shower below 
 her waist ; then she fastened it back with the roses and pinned a 
 bouquet in her dress. "Now let me see the pretties in this box. 
 and find something more to adorn my queen. Yes, this beautifu] 
 chain ; it is your mother's portrait ; I can tell, because it has eyes just 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 161 
 
 like yours." And she kissed it and talked to it as if it were alive. 
 " Dear mother of my dear friend, I love you already. Now the 
 watch ; and see, here in the corner is a beautiful diamond ring. Hold 
 out your dainty, lily-white hand. Now, who looks like a princess ?" 
 
 "You are a dear girl, and your friendship has kept me from despair 1 
 But tell me why you have arrayed me thus ?" 
 
 **0h! it's not to see the handsome gendeman who brought the box, 
 but to go with me to my father; he wishes to see you on important 
 business^ and I'm to be your guard. I'm to be held responsible for 
 you — isn't that funny? f hey wouldn't trust me, if they knew I would 
 cry with joy for a week, if you would only run away ! Will you see 
 my father ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes! perhaps he has my release." 
 
 "I'll run and bring our carriage, then." And she was gone. 
 
 "So much joy in one day. Does happiness ever whiten one's hairl 
 I can soon see, for here in the cover of the box is my little looking 
 glass; I had forgotten it. I almost fear to look. I wonder if I am 
 much altered ? Six months! have the roses left my cheeks ?" She 
 bent her head to look but stopped. ''Suppose I see wrinkles; that 
 always makes a woman sad — I won't look; I haven't the courage." 
 And she shut the box. But her woman's curiosity was strong. "And 
 yet — and yet — " she unconsciously touched the spring and the lid flew 
 up, as Beatrice entered. 
 
 "The carriage is here, dear; throw this around you," and she gave 
 Clare a large black lace mantle, which she threw around her, partly 
 covering her head, as the Spanish ladies do. "How pretty you look! 
 here," and she caught the box from the table, and held the glass 
 before her; "see for yourself." 
 
 *'My hair is not white yet! Oh! I'm so glad!" 
 
 "What! have you been dreaming away fifty years, to think of such 
 
162 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 a thing? No, indeed ; your hair is as brown, and your cheeks as rosy, 
 
 as when you first came here." 
 
 "Then let us go quickly, for I so long to be free!" 
 
 She left the prison with such bright hopes, pulses high, cheeks 
 
 flushed. Were they to be realized? A disappointment now would 
 
 almost kill her. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 Outside the jail, on the sea shore, Cubby and Willett were taking a 
 walk. Willet had determined to secure a husband before she returned 
 to England ; she was also determined that husband should be Cubby. 
 Now, when a woman makes up her mind upon such a subject, a man 
 may as well surrender at once, for his fate is as inevitable as if pro- 
 claimed by the ruling stars. They were talking of things far removed 
 from love — porpoises — but she would lead him to it soon, trust her 
 woman's tact. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Willet," he said, " they are the strangest people 
 here you ever heard tell of. Only think ! They wouldn't kill one of 
 those great, fat, ugly purpoises for anything." 
 
 ''La! why not?" 
 
 " Because they think the spirits of their dead friends go into them." 
 
 " How heathenish !" 
 
 " Yes ; in the boat this morning, I was about to play a trick on one 
 and catch him in the nose with a little hook, when Jack Jordan nearly 
 pushed me out of the boat." 
 
 '* The brute ! What for ?" 
 
 "Don't ye dare hurt him," he said ; "that's Bill Jones' brother." 
 So none of them would speak to me for the rest of the sail, except so 
 cross and surly and short, that I was glad when we landed." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 163 
 
 " Don't expose your precious life with those barbarians any more. 
 It's very romantic here, though, isn't it Cubby ? The great big waves 
 rolling up to your feet, and the lobster shells lying around !" 
 
 '* Yes, and the smell of the sea breeze, as if one had a barrel of 
 herring in their cellar. But my lord leaves on the ship to-morrow, 
 which doesn't please me. Six months on sea to one on land isn't just 
 the ticket." 
 
 " La ! you don't say so ! And does my lady leave, too ?" 
 
 ** You ought to know that ! Why, you couldn't keep her from going 
 in the ship he sails in, for — for — I don't know what simile to make. 
 I thought you were clever enough to see that." 
 
 But she smiled and said : 
 
 **Well, you know, sometimes it's politics to be blind." 
 
 " Yes, and dumb, too ; well, then, we leave on the ship to-morrow, 
 and the friend doesn't go with us, as far as I can understand." 
 
 "You mean Lady Clare, the poor dear ! I'd like to see her so 
 much, and say a kind word to her. How can I arrange it .?" 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. Why not ask your lady ? If she says no, 
 get a rope ladder and we will scale the building." 
 
 " Why, Cubby, dear, when did you get to be so romantic .?" 
 
 " Three months of your charming society on the briny deep would 
 make a ver)' fish romantic." 
 
 " I do believe the poor fellow's getting in love ! La, Cubby do you 
 find my society charming ?" 
 
 " I do here ; I don't know how it will be when we get back to 
 England." 
 
 " Well I never ! I must attach him a little stronger to me. Cubby, 
 who was that handsome fellow painting carriages in the room they left 
 us in yesterday .?" 
 
 " Hey ? Some thief, or perhaps murderer in the second degree." 
 
 "That can't be ! I believe he's under a false charge. Why, he has 
 
164 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 birds and flowers in the room, and was humming. What a sweet 
 smile he has." 
 
 " Hey ? What's he to you .?" 
 
 *'Oh! nothing, of course! but one may admire anything handsome, 
 mayn't they, in nature or art?" 
 
 "Perhaps you could persuade him to try for a 'ticket-of-leave' and 
 come over to England." 
 
 "Well, what would be the harm if I did.? I am sure it would be a 
 very charitable thing to do." 
 
 "Miss Sarah Willetl" and he took her hand from his arm, "would 
 you as leave take the rest of your walk alone?" 
 
 Putting her hand back on his arm, she rephed: "I would just as 
 leave walk with you." 
 
 "Then just please to remember not to mention birds, flowers, or 
 sweet smiles to me again." 
 
 "I do believe Cubby's getting jealous." 
 
 **No such thing! no such thing! but if you want to admire any- 
 body, admire me. You" but she laughed so heartily, that he said no 
 more, but hurried her on with their walk in silence. 
 
 Thus destiny was weaving a little romance for our humbler sister, 
 without all the pain, anguish, and crime, the elegant lady, her mistress, 
 was enduring and committing to bring one man to her feet. 
 
 Why is it that some people are happy without an effort of their own, 
 the good things of this world poured into their lap, sorrow and pain 
 passing harmless by their houses, as they did those of old, marked with 
 the blood, while others, with heart and brain so sensitive and capable 
 of happiness, with minds highly cultured, pulses passionate, beings 
 capable of intense love, and worthy of it — why should they so often 
 suffer the tortures of the damned? Yet so it is. Poor imbecility is 
 happy, while bemgs that should reign are, like the archangel of old, 
 cast down into the lower depths, their hearts gnawing their very lives 
 away, and their ambition trailing like mantles in the dirt. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 165 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 The Governor sat in his elegant parlor, thinking. 
 
 "Young, fair looking, wealth)^, a fine old name and innocent. Not 
 a bad investment; then, too, an act of charity, and I'm not so old that 
 her loving me some day should be an impossibility." With this he 
 walked to the mantle-glass to see how he really did look. "Hair 
 slightly gray, umph — well, a very few wrinkles; not so bad! not so bad! 
 I think if she were my wife, I could persuade her gracious Majesty of 
 her entire innocence. 
 
 "Then, too, I should not be worried with the complaints of a grown 
 up daughter when the step-mother happens to be young and fair, for 
 Beatrice loves her more than I do at present." 
 
 He turned with a smile from the glass, as Beatrice ran in and threw 
 her arms about his neck. Clare stood in the doorway. 
 
 "Dear papa, here's my Clare, looking oh! so sweet. I hope you 
 will love her as I do, and let her go home on a beautiful ship. But 
 I shall cry when she goes, indeed I shall!" and she ran to the door 
 and brought Clare to where her father stood. 
 
 The Governor bowed low. 
 
 *'l am sorry, Lady Clare, that you did not make yourself known to 
 me before. I should have tried to have made your unjust imprison- 
 ment a little more comfortable. You see with so many we cannot 
 individualize, unless there is some peculiarity in their case which is 
 brought to our notice. From what your friend Sir Francis Hilton says, 
 I believe you are entirely innocent of the charge for which you are im- 
 prisoned." 
 
166 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "Oh! my lord, I thank you!" and she kissed his hand. "Thank youl" 
 and she could not prevent the tears coming. 
 
 ** Don't cry, for I'm so happy," said Beatrice, kissing her. 
 
 * T beHeve every effort was made in England to obtain your release?" 
 Clare bowed. "And all were unsuccessful.?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I have been thinking what influence I could bring to bear for your 
 speedy release, greater than your family, or Sir Francis Hilton exerted, 
 and I have decided that there is at least one fair chance untried." 
 
 "Oh! what is it, my lord ? You will have my mother's fervent 
 prayers, and Sir Francis Hilton's eternal gratitude." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "My life's devotion!" He looked pleased, but when she added "I 
 will love you as my dear father," he was a little annoyed. 
 
 "Beatrice!" he called, and beckoned for her to bring some refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 "Yes, papa; here is some cake, and some cordial that I made 
 myself. 'Take some^ dear Clare, I want to drink your health." 
 
 "My dear Beatrice, I could not now." 
 
 "Do my dear young lady, it will strengthen you to hear my plan, 
 and decide what you think best." So they each took a small glass of 
 the fragrant cordial, and he said: "Here's to your speedy release!" 
 
 'T hope so!" cried Beatrice as joyfully as if the release was sure to 
 come now that her father interested himself in her friend. Clare 
 smiled her thanks to both. The Governor placed her in an elegant 
 easy chair, and sat down beside her while Beatrice went to the window, 
 and appeared to be much interested in what was going on outside. 
 
 "It may appear abrupt, this sudden declaration of interest on my 
 part/' said the Governor, "but if it obtains for you your desired re- 
 lease, you will not think it the less worthy of attention. Beatrice 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 167 
 
 there — oh ! I know you're listening, you little rogue — loves you dearly 
 already, so you would not come a stranger into this house." 
 
 "I — I do not understand." 
 
 "I — I — mean — " Beatrice relieved him of his embarrassment by 
 throwing her arms around Clare, and exclaiming: 
 
 "Papa means for you to marry him! Oh! do, dear Clare." 
 
 "Surely you cannot mean that ?" said Clare, rising in agitation. 
 
 "Why not ? Am I so repulsive that I never need hope to marry 
 again?" 
 
 *'0h! no, my lord, but I am the betrothed wife of Sir Francis 
 Hilton!" 
 
 ''And what of that ? Has he been able to obtain your release ?" 
 
 "Alas, no!" 
 
 *'Then marry me and see what a devoted husband can do. I will 
 so besiege and entreat her Majesty, that she will be compelled to be- 
 lieve in your innocence." 
 
 "But I love Sir Francis." 
 
 "Time will cure that. He leaves Australia to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow! without a farewell word .? Oh! I did not believe he 
 could be so cruel! My lord, I will go back to my prison; liberty is 
 not so precious now." 
 
 Beatrice came to her and said in a pleading manner: 
 
 "Don't say no, dear Clare; if you marry papa you will never leave 
 us, and that would make me so happy." 
 
 "Beatrice, you do not know what love is, or you would not urge * 
 me to many your father without ic, and my heart filled with devotion 
 for another." 
 
 "I will not urge my suit now, Lady Clare, but trust to time and your 
 own good sense to help me; for should the Queen refuse to hear me, 
 you would only be a prisoner in name, for as my wife you would have 
 the freedom of the whole island, none here daring to question me," 
 
168 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 The bell rang violently. Beatrice ran to the window and cried; 
 
 *'0h! papa, there is a lady at the door in deep black, with a heavy 
 vail over her face. What can she want?" 
 
 A servant entered and said a lady wished to see the Governor. 
 
 "Tell her I am engaged." 
 
 "No, my lord, let me return to my prison; I feel very weary." 
 
 "Show her up!" said the Governor not very well pleased. 
 
 "I'll go to the carriage with you, dear, Clare, then I'm coming 
 back to see what she wants." By this time Lady Elmer stood in the 
 door; seeing Clare she startled and muttered: 
 
 "Am I too late ?" But she bowed low as Clare and Beatrice passed 
 her. 
 
 Clare thought, "what brings her here? Can it be treachery?" but 
 said not a word as she returned the bow and left the room. 
 
 "Your business with me, madam ? said the Governor as he handed 
 her a chair. 
 
 "You have a prisoner there," and she pointed to the prison. She 
 spoke quietly, but could not hide agitation. "A titled lady." 
 
 "That is true, madam." 
 
 "Her name is Clare De Mille." 
 
 "Again correct, madam." 
 
 "The lady's lover has just traveled several thousand miles; most 
 likely to effect her escape." 
 
 "Ah! there your knowledge exceeds mine.'' 
 
 "1 come to request you to redouble your vigilance till the ship 
 leaves to-morrow." 
 
 "Indeed! that is a singular request from a stranger. How can the 
 lady's escape or detention affect you ?" 
 
 She started to her feet. 
 
 *'More than life itself! Oh! I — I — cannot explain. You are a 
 widower, are you not?" 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 169 
 
 **1 have that unhappiness, madam." Here Beatrice came quietly 
 into the room, and sat down apart from them. 
 
 "Then marry this girl, and I will give her a dowry of twenty 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 "I have already done myself the honor of proposing." 
 
 "Did she refuse .?" 
 
 *'She loves another." 
 
 "Then marry her to any one — a common thief, if need be, and I 
 will give you thirty thousand pounds." 
 
 ''How do I know but that you are the lady in disguise.-^" and he 
 snatched the heavy vail quickly from her face. "Ah ! Lady Elmer 
 Dudley! I am happy to see you, madam!" and he bowed low. 
 
 ''How dare you?" But she saw that she was discovered, and that 
 anger would be bad policy, so she said humbly: *'Now you know 
 who I am you can understand my motives. " 
 
 "You a — ^^'ou love Sir Francis Hilton?" 
 
 "Alas! yes!" Beatrice shocked, hurried from the room to seek and 
 inform Clare. 
 
 "I will tell you for your own satisfaction, Lady Dudley, if by any 
 means I can induce the Lady Clare to become my wife, I shall do so.*' 
 
 "If she doss not consent compel her to. Tell her Sir Francis is 
 to be married on his return to England; anything to make her hate 
 him." 
 
 Here a servant brought word that Sir Francis Hilton wished to 
 speak to the Governor. 
 
 "Oh! he must not see me here; it would ruin my prospects 
 forever. Where can I go ?" 
 
 "Step into my daughter's room for a moment." 
 
 She quickly covered her face with the heavy vail, and went into the 
 room; but standing near the door, she listened intently, and heard 
 nearly all that passed between Sir Francis and the Governor. 
 
170 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 How her heart bounded with hope, as she heard the Governor re- 
 quest Sir Francis not to see the Lady Clare again before his departure 
 as it might interfere with his plans for her release. Sir Francis 
 suffered torture at the thought, but at last consented. 
 
 "For her sake, I would suffer as the martyrs did of old." But 
 during the long interview no kind word for Elmer escaped his lips, 
 and she bit her hand till it bled, as he left the house without once 
 mentioning her name. 
 
 Chapter XI. 
 
 It was nearly sunset and the yellow light gilded the prison till it 
 seemed almost a thing of beauty; the waves tipped with golden fire, 
 washed its base, and the clouds spread in glory above it. Yet behind 
 those shining walls, grief, misery, and crime, everything that was bad in 
 human nature, and but little that was pure and good, had their abode. 
 
 Sir Francis was on the beach, intently watching the scene. 
 
 "There is the grim monster that hides my Clare, and should the 
 Governor's artempt fail, when shall I see her again ? Oh, it almost 
 tempts me to make confidants of thieves and vagabonds to learn their 
 profession, so that I might scale those walls and bear my darling 
 hence, away from the tyranny of cruel laws to some fair southern isle, 
 never to see England or Lady Dudley again. What brought her here ? 
 That thought troubles me, for she has attended to no business as yet, 
 and says she leaves on the ship to-morrow. Is she in league with 
 some one to destroy the Lady Clare ? How powerless I am to ascer- 
 tain or prevent it ! Creatures of destiny, all of us ! Wealth and 
 titles, often, as futile to obtain a desired object as the gauntest poverty. 
 I must leave this spot or I shall be tempted to break my word with the 
 Governor, and see her once more, despite the consequences !" As 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 171 
 
 he was thinking thus, Willet, who was seeking him, came near and 
 coughed, to attract his attention, and when he looked at her she cour- 
 tesied and said : 
 
 " My lord, my lady wishes to know if your time is all engaged this 
 afternoon ?" 
 
 " Must that woman haunt me like the recollection of some terrible 
 nightmare?" Then turning to her he said aloud: '* Yes, till the ship 
 sails." 
 
 *' How ungracious ! She hasn't done much toward catching him, 
 after all ; but I must be polite, as I expect to enter his lordship's ser- 
 vice as Mrs. Cubby, on our return to dear England ;" then she 
 court esied and said : " Thank you, your lordship. I will tell her 
 your time is^all engaged ;" and she started to walk away. ^ 
 
 '* What can she want to see me for ? Should it be about poor Clare! 
 Oh ! I must not neglect the least trifle that points to her release* 
 Stay !" he called to Willet ; " tell her I will see her in an hour," and 
 he walked rapidly away. 
 
 ** Well, he's a fickle gentleman, whatever they may say about the 
 ladies. I hope the air of England won't cause me and Mr. Cubby 
 to alter our determination ;" and she hurried back to her lady, bring- 
 ing joy to her torn, passionate heart, for like a discreet servant, she 
 only told what was pleasant, keeping the rest to herself. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 
 Beatrice had hurried to ascertain what she could, then gone to 
 Clare, and was standing and talking excitedly, while she listened, 
 looking, oh ! so sad and despondent, 
 
 " Yes, you must escape this very day, for oh ! you don't know what 
 
172 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 that bad woman said ; ' marry her to a common thief, if need be, and 
 I will give you thirty thousand pounds!' Oh, my Clare, there is a price 
 set upon your head ; you are to be sold like a slave in the market- 
 place ! But I will prevent it ! I have secured my brother's boat in a 
 little secret grotto that I discovered, almost at the prison door, and 
 have formed plans for your escape. You take this knotted rope ; your 
 love of life and liberty will teach you what to do." 
 
 "Oh, Beatrice, I am innocent ; if I try to escape they will deem me 
 guilty." 
 
 Oh, do not, do not remain for that unscrupulous woman to plot 
 against you." 
 
 " What have I done to any human being that they should destroy 
 me thus ?"^ 
 
 " Dear Clare, no matter how innocent you are, it seems you cannot 
 obtain your release legally, so unless you escape, you must remain 
 here the rest of those long, weary years ; subjected, too, to annoy- 
 ances that will break your gentle heart. For the love I bear you, do 
 not refuse this chance of liberty. I will put food and clothing in the 
 boat, and will join you before the moon rises. Oh, I almost forgot 
 this letter." 
 
 ''Ah! it is Sir Francis' writing." She took it and read the contents 
 eagerly, her eyes quickly filling with tears. " Beatrice, I shall not see 
 him again till we meet in England, and how can I endure to go there, 
 having to lurk in lanes and alleys, not daring to go to my home, or 
 even to the church, for fear of recognition. A fearful dread haunting 
 me, of a heavy hand upon my shoulder, and the deadening words, 
 'you are my prisoner!' hissed in my ears, blasting life and hope ! Oh! 
 what would liberty be at such a price ?" 
 
 " Dear Clare, you look upon the darkest side. Go to beautiful, free 
 America; there marry Sir Francis, and remain till your innocence ig 
 declared as it must be, will be, before long. Do not remain here to 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 173 
 
 let that bad woman undermineyour happiness, and perhaps even marry 
 your betrothed." 
 
 "Sir Francis loves me too dearly for that ever to happen. See 
 what his letter says: ' My beloved, not even death shall part us, for 
 should you go before, a broken heart would soon hurry me after. Let 
 nothing shake your faith in me!' And nothing shall." 
 
 " But, dear friend, he will soon be gone, and she may leave a bribe 
 with one of the prisoners to do you personal harm. Think how desper- 
 ate a woman could act, loving wildly, but with that love unreturned. 
 Nothing would be impossible to her. And see! even now she meets 
 him on the beach, and detains him against his will. He looks here as 
 if beseeching you to come." They were both at'^the barred window, 
 and could see Elmer talking to Sir Francis with drooping head. 
 
 Clare's heart gave a great bound, and the spirit of resistance came 
 to aid her; she cried: 
 
 ' * I will crush that woman's evil plans, come what may. To-night 
 I escape." 
 
 The sun had set and clouds covered the sky. Beatrice had placed 
 some provisions and shawls in the boat, but nothing for a long voyage, 
 or as a protection from danger. She was only a young girl with a 
 heart filled with love for her friend, and an enthusiastic desire for her 
 escape. 
 
 When all was quiet at the prison, and the lights out, Beatrice stood 
 beneath Clare's window. She clapped her hands three times, but not 
 very loud, then called in a whisper: 
 
 " Clare, Clare!" She appeared directly at the small window, where 
 they had bent two of the bars, so that she could press her slender body 
 through the space. 
 
 *' Is everything ready .?" she asked in a loud whisper. 
 
 "Yes. Quick, the guard is at the furthest wall." 
 
 Clare threw out the rope. "Hold it firmly, I have secured this end 
 
174 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 SO that I can easily descend." She had passed it twice around the 
 post of the bedstead, which she had drawn close to the window ; then 
 she had made a loop at the end for her foot, and another further above 
 for her hand. 
 
 As she appeared out of the window, Beatrice's heart beat fast; sup- 
 pose her strength should fail, and she should let go of the rope, her 
 dear friend would be dashed to pieces. The thought was horrible 
 and made her blood rush through her veins. As Clare began to de- 
 scend, she had to exert all her strength and play the rope out very 
 slowly. As the wind caught her white garments she looked like an 
 angel floating in the air. When she had descended half the distance 
 the moon broke from a cloud, and bathed her in silvery light. 
 
 "We shall be discovered," almost shrieked Beatrice. 
 
 "Quicker, then, I am not afraid!" Fear of discovery gave Beat- 
 rice almost superhuman strength, and in a few moments more Clare 
 touched the earth. The friends clasped each other in a warm em- 
 brace, then thanking God for her escape, they hurried into the boat, 
 and in a few moments they were on the broad ocean, breathing the 
 air of liberty. 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 The morrow had come, and the ship had started on her voyage to 
 England. And now it was night, and the moon lit up the scene, mak- 
 ing it supremely beautiful. But Sir Francis' eyes were turned inward, 
 reading his heart's book; he saw nothing of his surroundings. Elmer 
 was walking with the Captain, and Cubby and Willet were playing 
 their little romance. The sailors were pulling some ropes and sing- 
 ing the musical tar song the words of which were incomprehensible to 
 all save the singer. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 175 
 
 "Blow the man down, bullies, hey, hey! 
 
 Blow the man down. 
 Roll him, groll him, hearties, ho, 
 
 Give me some time to blow the man down."^ 
 
 Sir Francis thought : 
 
 "Each moment bears me farther from her, powerless to snatch her 
 from that wretched prison, or share it with her !" and he leaned over 
 the bulwarks and looked yearningly at the land they had left. 
 
 "Is it not a lovely night, Captain ?" said Elmer sweetly, and with a 
 subtle woman's policy, trying to show Sir Francis that she could take 
 pleasure in another's society. 
 
 "Yes; but do you see yonder small black cloud .?" 
 
 "Where ?" 
 
 "There." 
 
 "But surely that is not large enough to cause us any inconvenience." 
 
 "Ah! my lady, in a short time you will hear these old sails and ropes 
 speak in tones not to be mistaken.'' 
 
 "Do you really think there will be any danger, Captain.?" But here 
 the faint thunder rolled a long peal through the sky. 
 
 '*It may blow over, the moon still shines." 
 
 "I hope so; a storm at sea must be very unpleasant," she said 
 nervously. 
 
 " Excuse me; I must watch that cloud closely;'' and he took his 
 glass and looked, and then moved away. 
 
 Elmer went timidly to Sir Francis' side. "Sir Francis, do you think 
 there will be much of a storm .?" 
 
 "Why the moon is shining." 
 
 "Yes, but see that black cloud; how rapidly it is approaching us." 
 The thunder rolled louder. ''It makes me nervous." 
 
 "I wish the lightning would flash and the thunder roar, and the 
 waves dash mountains high! something in unison with my feelings." 
 
276 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "How can you wish it!" and she shuddered as the thunder came 
 louder, and walked away. 
 
 "Oh, I hope there isn't going to be a storm !" said Willet. 
 
 "Don't be a goose, you little duck! it's nice to watch the lightning 
 flash, and hear the thunder roar if there isn't too much of it!" replied 
 
 Alphonse Cubby. 
 
 "Any of it's too much for me! I don't think I shall ever venture on 
 
 the sea again." 
 
 »'What would you do if I should become the captam of a goodly 
 
 ship?" , u ^ u 
 
 *'Willet!" called Elmer, from the bulwark where she had been 
 
 looking off with her glass. 
 "My lady!" 
 *'Look through these glasses and tell me is it not a boat you see. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 **There, there; do you not see it ?" 
 
 i<Yes— oh, yes! I see it now; and— and there is some one in it." 
 *'Man or woman?" , 
 
 "It is too large for one person, it's— it's two women." 
 ♦'I thought so !" and she took the glasses and looked through them 
 eagerly. ''It is Clare; she has made her escape!" But the thunder 
 rolled so heavily that she started and dropped the glasses, then shud- 
 dering she hid her head in her shawl. 
 
 Sir Francis who had also been looking through his glass, called: 
 "Captain, one moment if you please. Are there not two women 
 in that boat ?" The Captain brought his powerful glass to bear upon 
 the boat, and after looking a few moments said: 
 
 '*Yes, and they are in distress; do you not see that signal fluttering 
 wildly in the wind? Take my glass, most likely it is more powerful." 
 He took it, and in a moment exclaimed: "It is Clare, and some one 
 with her! Oh, they will be lost in this storm! Captain, what can we 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 177 
 
 do ?" But the little cloud had increased in size till it nearly covered 
 the sky and shut out the light of the moon; the thunder was very 
 heavy and the lightning kept up a continual flash, and the rain began 
 to fall in torrents. 
 
 "It is so dark that I would have to trust to the flashes of lightning to 
 find them." A terrible peal of thunder decided him. "I will make the 
 attempt. Man the life boat!" 
 
 "Captain, I'm one of the crew!" cried Sir Francis. Elmer heard 
 it amid all the confusion of sailors running hither and thither, Truman, 
 the mate, shouting orders, the pulling of ropes, and the din of the tem- 
 pest. She would not have left the deck now, if almost instant death 
 were the penalty. Her love was stronger than her fear. 
 
 *'Captain!" she called in a loud whisper, "twenty thousand pounds to 
 leave them to their fate!" 
 
 "But they will be lost." 
 
 "So much the better; a — some other ship may save them. Thirty 
 thousand pounds if you do not hesitate." 
 
 "I'm poor and mortal — stay, my men, we will not risk it." 
 
 "Ah!'' Elmer exclaimed in joyous triumph. 
 
 But Sir Francis had been watching her, and suspected she had 
 caused the captain to countermand the order. 
 
 'Treachery!" he cried, throwing off his coat, and leaping overboard, 
 as the thunder with a fearful crash seemed to rend the very heavens, 
 and the lightning to change the dark ocean into an abyss of fire. 
 
 Elmer shrieked and rushed wildly to the side of the vessel, but be- 
 fore she reached the bulwarks, she fainted and fell to the deck. 
 
 "Oh, my poor lady, she is dead!" cried Wiflet, in a moment at her 
 side. 
 
 "Quick, bring her to my cabin, and get the doctor." They did so, 
 and one of the sailors called the doctor. But Truman, suspecting some- 
 thing was wrong, said : 
 
178 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "My men, lower the boat; that man and those women must be 
 
 be saved.'' 
 
 And the sailors who were kind hearted, were glad and cried: 
 
 **Ay, ay, sir!" and singing, they lowered the boat, as the cloud 
 
 passed on, and the moon was shining. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 There, in the little boat, with the waves surging around them, was 
 Clare, holding Beatrice in her arms. A handkerchief was tied to an 
 oar as a signal of distress, and so they waited; and now the moon 
 shone on them 
 
 "Does the ship see us ?" asked Beatrice in a faint voice. 
 
 ' ' Not yet, I think." 
 
 '* Oh, I'm so cold ! The storm has wet me to the skin !" 
 
 " I, too, am drenched, so cannot help you. Are you still thirsty .'*" 
 
 " I do not suffer so, as the rain you so thoughtfully caught in your 
 hands, so much refreshed me." 
 
 '' Poor child ! I gave it to her while my throat was parched !" A 
 distant peal of thunder caused Beatrice to tremble. 
 
 ■'Oh ! is not the storm over.? The lightning frightens me so." 
 
 " Yes, dear Beatrice, it has passed and the moon shines ; that is 
 only its dying moan. Oh, the storm was grand. I am sorry you were 
 so terrified; you lost a glorious sight." 
 
 " How brave you are. Dear Clare, had it not been for you I should 
 have died with terror. What is that .'' I hear distant singing." 
 
 *' It is from the ship — it is nearing us!" and she shaded her eyes 
 with her hand and looked intently. 
 
 " But do they see us .''" 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 179 
 
 " I cannot tell yet." 
 
 * * Had I not lost the other oir in my terror, we might at least have 
 made an effort for our lives. Oh, I am so faint." 
 
 '' How shall I attract their attention ? Could they hear if I should 
 sing ? But my throat is parched, so long without water; forgetting to 
 put any in the boat." Beatrice sighed, and her head sank on Clare's 
 shoulder. "I'll try;" and she sang a sweet plaintive air — a mother's 
 love; and pausing every little while she listened. As her sweet voice 
 died away she heard a sound. 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed joyfully, "I hear the dipping of oars; they 
 come — nearer and nearer — we are saved!" At a distance Truman 
 cried: 
 
 " Cheer up, my lassies!" 
 
 "Do you hear, Beatrice.'' The boat is nearly here, to bear us to 
 the ship and safety." 
 
 " What is it ? Oh, I was dreaming so pleasantly. A boat did you 
 say.?" 
 
 " Yes, it is nearly here! But should they recognize me, would 
 they send me back again ? Kind Heaven forbid it and protect me!" 
 And now the boat with Truman and the sailors in it, was near to 
 theirs. Truman cried in a cheering voice: 
 
 " You are all right, my lassies, and will soon be safe in the warm 
 ship — what's that, a sick one .?" 
 
 "Yes; we are nearly exhausted; bear her tenderly." 
 
 "Ay, ay! my lass! But I'm sorry to tell ye, ye'll both have to be 
 stowaways." 
 
 " For what reason .?" 
 
 "There's a lady on board who's no friend of yours, for after whis- 
 pering to the Captain, he countermanded the order to ' man the life 
 boat!'" 
 
 " It is Lady Elmer. Will she hunt me to the death.?" 
 
180 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 But Truman quickly helped them into the boat and ordered his 
 men to pull away for their lives. 
 
 As they were quickly nearing the ship, Sir Francis swam in sight of 
 Clare's boat. He was nearly exhausted, buffeting the waves. 
 
 " Where is she ? I — I cannot go much farther. Ah! here is the 
 boat — empty! Clare lost!" His hands loosened themselves from the 
 boat and he sank. In a moment more the second boat from the ship 
 reached him. The officer commanding it cried: " Hearties, he went 
 down this moment — here." And as he spoke. Sir Francis rose and 
 grasped the empty boat. The sailors quickly pulled him into theirs, but 
 he lay lifeless. 
 
 *' Is he dead .?" asked the officer. 
 
 "Dead!" the men replied, and sadly and in silence they rowed 
 to the ship. 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 
 Poor Clare and the gentle Beatrice were stowed away in hiding 
 places for three long months, only coming on deck at night, when the 
 passengers were all asleep, and the captain had retired. Clare knew 
 nothing of Sir Francis' effort to save her, and how he nearly lost his 
 life, and how the doctor had, with the greatest difficulty, resuscitated 
 him. 
 
 The ship was near her journey's end, and all was joyous bustle and 
 excitement. The poor girls could hear it, and it made them feel so sad 
 and lonely that they could not stand upon the deck and watch the 
 nearing shore. But Truman and the sailors did all in their power to 
 make them comfortable and to feel less lonely. They would bring 
 them sailor's knots made of different colored ribbons, little articles 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 181 
 
 whittled out of wood, rings made of coal and bone. The last presents 
 they brought were two little ships, perfect in construction, and named 
 after them. Truman had bought them a couple of warm shawls from 
 some of the passengers, and each day had supplied them with good 
 food, and nuts, and dried fruit, and took them on the deck at night. 
 They were very grateful, and his name was wafted up to heaven with 
 their every prayer. 
 
 The ship landed at the dock, anci after all the passengers were 
 ashore and the men were busy bringing out the freight, Truman, with 
 Clare and Beatrice, left the ship. 
 
 Clare had written, by Truman's advice, a letter to her mother, tell- 
 ing her of her escape, and to come for her, at a certain obscure inn, in 
 a close carriage and at night, so as not to risk a re-arrest. 
 
 The inn, the Golden Hen, was in a small street not far from the 
 Dudley mansion. She had asked Truman to find one as near there as 
 possible. Beatrice was to return in a ship that sailed for Australia in 
 an hour, so now they had to part 
 
 " Truman, you have been a kind, true friend ; take my little watch, 
 and let its ticking always remind you how grateful 1 feel for the good 
 you have done to a poor, unhappy girl, who, but for you, would now be 
 at the bottom of the sea." She grasped his hand and covered it with 
 tears and kisses ; and he, poor fellow, turned away his head and wiped 
 his eyes upon his sleeve. 
 
 Then the two girls clasped each other in a close embrace. 
 
 " Oh ! dear Clare, it makes me so unhappy to leave you. I thought 
 at least to see you safe with your mother. But my father must be 
 suffering, for I am his only daughter and he loves me dearly ; but I 
 left a letter for him, saying how my deep affection for you compelled 
 me to aid in your escape, and that I would return on the first vessel 
 that sailed after seeing you safe in England." 
 
 "Good-by, Beatrice, and believe your love is not wasted, for you 
 
182 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 occupy the place next my mother and Sir Francis." She pressed on 
 her finger her beautiful diamond ring. "Those stones are not more 
 enduring than my love for you, and their brightness will sooner fade 
 than my gratitude." Once more they embraced, promising to write 
 soon and often. Then Truman put Clare into a cab, and, in a mo- 
 ment, amid tears and kisses, the friends who had been for three long 
 months all the world to each ott^r, were parted. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 It was night, and Sir Francis and Elmer were on their way to Lady 
 De Mille's. She had begged to be allowed to accompany him, and he 
 had been forced, though unwillingly, to consent. 
 
 "We will tell Lady De Mille we saw the Lady Clare in health and 
 as beautiful as ever," said Sir Francis. 
 
 '* And how sorry we are that we bring no hopes of a speedy release." 
 
 " The poor girls in the boat, who could they have been .'"' and he 
 looked intently in Elmer's face. She starting slightly, said: 
 
 "Why how should I know ?'' 
 
 "The captain was a villain to countermand his orders." 
 
 "Yes, after I had spoken to him, too." 
 
 "Could I have been mistaken?" he thought. "You had spoken to 
 him ?" 
 
 "Yes, did you not see us?" He had been so intent on watching 
 her, that he had unconsciously slacked his pace, and they were now 
 walking slowly. It was a rather common part of the town, the street 
 they were now on, filled with cheap shops and pawnbroker's places, 
 those friends, though hard ones, of the poor. 
 
 Clare found on her arrival at the inn, that she had only sufficient 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 18B- 
 
 money to pay the cab hire, and when night came, and still she heard 
 nothing from her mother, she decided to search for a pawnbroker's — a 
 place she had read about in novels, and had seen from her carriage 
 window — but to enter one! Her heart sank at the thought; but 
 necessity compelled her, so with the shawl that Truman gave her, over 
 her head, she crept along the streets, like any other poor wretch. Thus 
 it was, on nearing the shop she was looking for, she saw her lover and 
 Lady Elmer. She started in horror. 
 
 "Oh! they are together! She is trying to rob me of his love!" 
 
 "See how that woman is watching us. Can her object be robbery?" 
 whispered Elmer tightening her hold on Sir Francis' arm. Clare 
 stepped back. 
 
 "No; 'tis some poor woman seeking the pawnshop, most likely, 
 whom we have frightened away.'' 
 
 •'Do you think so ? I am quite nervous since that dreadful storm." 
 
 "Poor creature !" said Sir Francis, looking at Clare ; they then 
 walked quickly away. 
 
 "He pities me as though I were some creature of the streets !" and 
 her tears came thick and fast. "Had it not been better to have died 
 that night in the glory of the storm? I dare not reveal myself to him, 
 for Elmer would discover it and denounce me. Nothing left for my 
 present support but the little money I may get for my mother's por- 
 trait!" and she took it from her bosom and kissed and talked to it. 
 "Mother you will forgive me, when you know it is to save my life. 
 I am almost afraid to go into this shop;" and she looked into the win- 
 dow. "The man is so fierce looking; will he try to harm me?" 
 
 As she stood by the door, undecided whether to enter or not, a 
 young ruffian, half thief and loafer, accosted her. "Hi! Runabout, 
 what you got there? Give it me!" and he snatched at the long 
 chain, but she held it tightly, and uttering a slight scream she cried: 
 
 "I need it to get bread !" 
 
184 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "Then come in and let me introduce you to my Uncle; he'll give 
 you mor'n a bob and a tanner for that trinket!" and he caught hold 
 of her arm. 
 
 "Oh! let me go, do, you frighten me." 
 
 "Come, come, none of your slack, or I'll take that trinket to pay up." 
 
 *'0h ! let me go !" and with a sudden movement she got her arm 
 away, and ran round the corner. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! ha! didn't I frighten that gal ? Am I so jolly ugly 
 lookin' ? Say, old Fagan, come here. I've lost you a customer, I 
 have. Ha! ha! ha!" The old man came to the door, very angry. 
 
 "Vat for you do that ? and vat for you call me old Fagan ?" 
 
 '•Because you look like an old fellow of that name I've heard of.'' 
 
 "Vat for you drive my customers away, hey ?" 
 
 "She's got a stunnin' trinket — a picture with real pearls and dia- 
 mants round it. I was in a hurry to see how you'd cheat her, so I 
 offered her an introduce, but your ugly phiz frightened her away. 
 Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 "Vat for you lie so ? She no see me; vat for you slay about my 
 shop frightening nice ladies away ? You go, or I call a police." 
 
 "You old lummicks! Is that all the thanks I get for trying to bring 
 you a customer ? The next shirt or coat you get from me for a three 
 penny bit, you can put in your eye, and still see to cheat as well as 
 ever," 
 
 « 
 
 "You — you — you go, now, or I get cross — very much angry!" 
 
 "Who cares for your anger, old skinflint? You ought to brag of 
 your shop, for everything goes in, and precious little comes out." 
 
 "You mean to say I no give fair price? You go way now!" and he 
 became very angry. 
 
 "You know you are an old cheat; that's what makes you so riley !*' 
 
 "Police! police!" 
 
 "If that's your game, old Surly, I won't trouble you any more with 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 185 
 
 my company. Good-night, old Hunks!'* and whistling, he sauntered 
 away. 
 
 "That is a bad young man; he will dance on a cord some day, if 
 he no be careful; it won't be under his feet, eder, but just under his 
 left ear!" and chuckling he entered his shop. 
 
 After some time, Clare returned, and looking about, thought: 
 
 " Is he gone ? I do not see him; why did he annoy me so? Should 
 he come again what could I do? But I must be courageous, or have 
 no where to stay to-night." 
 
 The old man came to the door of his shop, and seeing her, said in 
 a wheedling voice : 
 
 "Come in my little teer! Vat have you got purty to show me? 
 Come in; I always pays goot prices?" 
 
 'Tt is my mother's portrait — I — 1 do not wish to sell it only to leave 
 it as security for what money you will let me have." 
 
 "Oh! it's a purty lady! Vat is des around it? Little bits of glass?" 
 
 "No, sir; they are diamonds and pearls." 
 
 'Tmitation, you mean!" and he looked over his spectacles scrutin- 
 izingly. 
 
 "No, sir, real; it's a gift from my dear mother; please say what 
 money you can loan me." 
 
 "Veil, not much, not much.'' 
 
 ''But how much ?'' 
 
 "Veil," and he rubbed his chin contemplatively, ''three shillings!" 
 
 "Oh! sir, that would scarcely pay a night's lodging." 
 
 " Veil, money ish scarce ; worth ten per cent, a month ; very scarce. 
 Veil, I vill be very goot, for you are a nice lady ; I give you five 
 shillings." 
 
 " Is that all ? Then I must go somewhere else ; and as she still 
 had hold of the long chain, she tried to draw the locket from his 
 his hand. 
 
186 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 ** Eh ? Perhaps you stole him!" and he jerked the chain from her 
 grasp, and called quickly, but not in a very loud voice, "police! police!" 
 
 "Oh! don't — don't call the police; I will take anything." 
 
 "I ought to call the police, but I am a gopt man — got tender heart 
 — here's five shillings." 
 
 " Thank you ; I will come for it again and give you guineas for 
 your trouble !" and Clare almost ran back to the inn, while the old 
 man, rubbing his hands and chuckling, re-entered his shop on the 
 alert for another victim. 
 
 Chapter XVII. 
 
 Willet and Cubby's little romance had come to a climax, that is a 
 dramatic climax ; they had got married. They were enacting a little 
 domestic scene in the grand hall that led to the drawing room in the 
 Dudley mansion. There was a magnificent ball and party going on in 
 honor of the Lady Elmer's safe return. 
 
 Willet was one of those coquettish wives who like to display their 
 power over their husbands, so she accidentally, apparently, dropped her 
 handkerchief, and called, ''Cubby!" 
 
 " Yes, dear, " and he came to her side with a series of quick little 
 steps, that showed a slight fear, mingled with his love. 
 
 '*My handkerchief." 
 
 " Yes, love ; and with the same quick step he brought it to her. 
 
 "Thank you. How long have we been married, dear ?" 
 
 " Seven days !" and he unconsciously sighed. 
 
 "Cubby!" reproachfully, " why do you sigh?" 
 
 **From — from excess of joy, love!" he answered quickly. 
 
 •*Ah! then please give your joy a more pleasant expression." 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 187 
 
 "Yes, love. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 "Cubby ! This is an occasion on which you can show yourself the 
 loving, obedient husband. This is an occasion on which to make me 
 envied even by my betters; for who possesses a loving obedient hus- 
 band without being proud of him. And you're a good-looking man, 
 too !" she took his arm, and walked a few steps, he looked silily 
 pleased, "and appear better smiling than sighing," and she patted his 
 cheek. "I've a secret to tell you; I have perceived your fine business 
 qualities, so am going to let you invest to the best advantage, some 
 Httle savings of mine." 
 
 "I didn't know I married an heiress !" said Cubby, quite proud. 
 
 *'And now, dear Cubby, I want you to do me a favor — use all your 
 influence, which is great, I know, to bring about a match between my 
 lady and your master; then, dear, we shall not be separated again, 
 and with both our perquisites, in a few years we can start in bus- 
 iness for ourselves and be independent. " 
 
 **Then you're not a Roman's rights man?" 
 
 She laughed merrilly. "Did you think so because I wanted an 
 obedient husband ? Oh! we ladies all like that, yet you shall always 
 be the business man; but the house, you know, must be my kingdom." 
 
 **Give us a kiss to bind the bargain!" and he gave her an old- 
 fashioned kiss or rather hug, putting his arms around her neck and 
 squeezing her. 
 
 "Cubby, fix my ruff." 
 
 "Yes, love." 
 
 "Thank you!" and they went to their respective duties, proud and 
 happy. 
 
188 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 
 From the street, the house illuminated in every window, the garden 
 hung with Chinese lanterns, the elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen 
 visible in the drawing room, made a very pretty picture; so thought 
 the bad young man Dick, who had so frightened poor Clare. He had 
 quietly stolen in the back way, to get a nearer view, 
 
 "My heyes! ain't this a stunnin' show?" thought he, as he peeped 
 into the long French window that opened on to the balcony, but a 
 few feet from the rising lawn. ''Shouldn't I like to have one of them 
 angels in silk for a pard in a few steps of the mazurk, " and as the 
 music sounded tantalizing and inspiring, he took his coat tails in his 
 hands and had a little dance on the green all by himself. When the 
 music and dancing ceased, the servants handed around ices and sher- 
 bet, and Dick smacked his lips, saying, "Hi! but I'd like to be in 
 there!" then as Lady Downington came on the balcony, he thought, 
 "some one coming. I must make myself scarce!" and he did so, as 
 Lady Downington called : 
 
 ''Jonquil! Jonquil! Where can he he? The night air will injure 
 this poor darling. Jonquil! I say!'' And Jonquil, coming from the 
 side of the house where several of the servants had been watching the 
 dancers and gossipping, reported : 
 
 ''Here, my lady." 
 
 ''Where have you been ? I've been calling and calling you. Mas- 
 ter 'Pinkette' will be quite ill breathing this night air on an empty 
 stomach; take him to the pantry and give him of the best you can 
 procure. " 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 189 
 
 **Yes, my lady." And she leaned over the balcony railings and 
 placed the dog tenderly in his arms, saying: "Now be very careful." 
 
 "Yes, my lady;" and he disappeared from her view, as she entered 
 the ball room again, saying : 
 
 "That man is invaluable." 
 
 Each night Clare had stolen from the little inn, and watched the 
 Dudley mansion. She had seen Sir Francis enter several times, and 
 her heart was nearly broken. She had heard nothing from her mother, 
 and had been compelled to pawn part of her underclothes to enable 
 her to live this long. This very night she had determined, after her 
 watching was over, to seek her home at all hazards, and see what was 
 the matter. 
 
 She entered the garden as the musicians came from the house, and 
 some of the ladies and gentlemen foUov/ed, and danced on the smooth 
 cut grass; Elmer led the quadrille; then the music changed into a 
 polka, and they danced into the house again, the servants enjoying the 
 sight vastly. And Clare watched, 
 
 "How happy they are all here, while I am in such misery. He is 
 not here at least. Oh ! I am so thankful he cherishes my memory, 
 and she with all her beauty and vast wealth cannot fascinate him from 
 me. Life is still endurable. Who of my old time friends are here.?" 
 and she went to the window and looked into the room. 
 
 Sir Francis came from the house, to indulge in thought for a mo- 
 ment in quietness. 
 
 "Can I be mistaken ? Is Lady Elmer innocent ? I've watched her so 
 closely since the night of the pretended robbery, yet cannot tell by 
 word or look, what is in her heart. Always speaking of her friend 
 Clare, and urging me still to try some new plan to effect her release. 
 When I mention the poor girls in the boat, she seems to feel so sorry 
 for their fate, and wonders who they were, when I know her glass is 
 more powerful than mine, and their features must have been quite 
 
190 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 visible to her. Was the resemblance to Clare only a delusion of my 
 brain ? If it were only so, I should have a better and a nobler ob- 
 ject in life than trying to discover a woman's treachery." 
 
 Elmer missed him immediately and soon sent Wiliet with a mes- 
 sage. She readily found him, and courtesying, said: 
 
 "My lord, my lady says they are about to play a beautiful sonatas of 
 Mosesheart that you would be sorry to miss." 
 
 With all his grief he could not help smihng. 
 
 *'A sonata of Mozart's you mean." 
 
 "I expect so, sir;" and she dropped a courtesy. "I knew it was 
 something with a heart in it; and it is a pity, sir, that some gentlemen 
 don't have more heart for them that care so much for them." And she 
 walked quickly into the house. 
 
 "What can the girl mean.? Now for another trial. Will it never 
 cease ?" And Clare saw him just as he was entering the door. 
 
 "That was Sir Francis. What does he here in this gay scene, think- 
 ing me still in prison .? Has — has he ceased to love me.''" Then she 
 looked into the window again. ''How her face brightens as he enters 
 the room. Ah ! they are coming to this window !" and she crouched 
 down beneath the balcony. As the music began they came out, and 
 Elmer said: 
 
 "Francis — Sir Francis, will you not sit here and enjoy this exquisite 
 music of Mozart ?'^ 
 
 "Ah! that indeed falls soothingly on my unhappy heart." 
 
 *'Have we not done everything in our power ? Then why indulge 
 in such constant melancholy ? It is not kind to your friends who love 
 you so." 
 
 '*I am not satisfied. I shall take the next ship that sails to Aus- 
 tralia and ascertain for a certainty if the lady is safe. Should she not 
 have perished in the ocean, for I fear that face in the boat was no de- 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 191 
 
 lusion, I will remain near her till freedom or death releases her from 
 her terrible captivity." 
 
 "Oh! do not go, Sir Francis. I — I — too, have suffered so much! 
 Would you not pity a woman who loved so intensely that she had 
 periled her soul for that love.? I — I — " 
 
 Clare starting up, shrieked: 
 
 "Oh ! I am betrayed !" and fell insensible to the earth. 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 
 Elmer hearing a woman had fainted in the garden ordered her to 
 be taken into a pleasant, quiet room up stairs away from the sound of 
 the music and voices. She was naturally a kind hearted, generous 
 woman, and had she not been transformed by her ill-fated love, the 
 world would have been the better for her living in it. 
 
 Clare had sunk into a sleep of deep exhaustion, and seeing her 
 comfortable, the servant had left her. But now it was morning and 
 the sun high up; still Clare slept on; it was the first time for so many 
 months that she had lain in a bed like those in her own home. When 
 she awoke it was nearly noon, and for awhile her senses were confused. 
 
 " Have I been ill, or dreaming .?" She thought. Then she raised 
 herself on her elbow. " Was I the inmate of a prison escaping with 
 great peril ? That night on the ocean; was it real or only delusion ? Oh! 
 the dreadful shame of that trial ! But I am awake now, and in a beau- 
 tiful room. This is not my mother's house! It all comes back to me 
 now!" She was standing on the floor in an instant. "I am in the 
 house of the one woman of all the world who is my enemy. I will 
 hide no more, leaving her free, like a serpent to twine around his 
 
 heart and steal his love from me. I will denounce her for the wretch 
 she is! Oh! that I could meet her face to face." 
 
192 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Elmer, drawn by an irresistible impulse, entered the room. 
 
 ** My maid tells me you rested well last night. I trust you only 
 feinted from fatigue. Had you walked far V 
 
 Clare turned and faced her, saying in a quiet, intense voice : 
 
 **Do you not know me, Elmer Dudley.?" 
 
 But she shrieked in terror: 
 
 "It is her ghost!" 
 
 '*Ah! your conscience speaks at last. But I am not dead yet." 
 
 "Is it really my Clare escaped in safety?" and she went quickly 
 toward her. But Clare stepped back, saying: 
 
 "Come not near; your touch would poison me." 
 
 **0h! my dear friend, your trouble has unnerved you." 
 
 "Your friend! And how have you deserved that title from me?" 
 
 "Did I not prove my friendship by going all those weary miles to 
 aid in your release ?" But Clare laughed bitterly. 
 
 "Oh! how well you performed your mission of mercy! You be- 
 trayed me to the Governor and set a price upon my head." 
 
 "Oh, my poor Clare! Is then your reason clouded at last ?" 
 
 "Oh, no; I am quite sane. Even that night on the terrible ocean, 
 nearly perishing with thirst, not knowing what moment we might be 
 pursued, and I taken back to a captivity worse than death, even that 
 night did not obscure my mind or make me for one moment forget 
 my heartless wrongs." 
 
 "Oh, my friend, who could have wronged you to change your gen- 
 tle nature thus ?" 
 
 "Do you ask me ? Oh, arch hypocrite, what had I done, how dark- 
 ened youff life, that you should pursue me like an unrelenting fiend ?" 
 
 '*Have a care! " 
 
 "Too late; you have done your worst!" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "On that night, under the flimsy pretext that you were robbed, you 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 193 
 
 cast a shade upon that honor which for five hundred years had shone 
 so brightly. Elmer Dudley, what had I done ?" 
 
 "What had you done ? I will tell you. With your soft voice and 
 your yellow hair you had stolen away that heart I would have periled 
 my soul to gain." 
 
 "Ah! you confess it. With soft words you drew my secret from 
 me, then you turned traitor to long years of friendship; you forgot 
 every attribute of a womanly heart to banish and disgrace me, so that 
 Sir Francis, in the bitterness of his grief, would accept your consola- 
 tion. But that will be never." 
 
 *'Ah! you are mistaken; for is he not«nightly by my side, hanging 
 on my every word, envious of the very night that separates us ?" 
 
 *'False, false, as your guilt-stained heart!" 
 
 "Then I will make it true! I will give you back into the clutches 
 of the law — " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Should you again escape, I will hunt you from every place of 
 refuge, and follow you to the death !" 
 
 "Perjured woman, though you should make me suffer a thousand 
 deaths, you can never gain his love; for in his heart he hates, nay, de- 
 spises you !" • 
 
 "You shall never witness it." 
 
 "You placed the diamonds in my handkerchief. You bribed the 
 captain to leave us to perish on the ocean! But we were saved, and 
 I am here to denounce you to his face; he shall see what a monster 
 would claim his love!" 
 
 "Help! help!*^ 
 
 "Perjurer!" 
 
 "Help! help, to secure this mad woman." 
 
 "Murderess!" 
 
194 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 "Help! help!" and Lady Elmer rushed from the room shrieking 
 and calHng for help, till the whole house was aroused. 
 
 Clare stood like one in a dream, but the hurrying footsteps awoke 
 her. 
 
 **Ah! she will have me secured and taken to a mad house! then I 
 should never see him, and he would be in the power of that fiend 
 who has neither conscience nor mercy; that shall never be!" Then 
 without pausing, as the footsteps came nearer, she sprung from the 
 window, and falling on the soft earth of a flower-bed, was only slightly 
 bruised and breathless; in a moment she was on her feet, and fleeing 
 like a deer. * 
 
 But Elmer, whose carriage was waiting for her, hastily ordered the 
 coachman to drive to the nearest police station, and her foot was on 
 the steps, when Clare, dashing from the window, frightened the horses, 
 who, starting madly, threw the coachman from his seat, and dragged 
 her to the gate, where striking her head against a post, the horses 
 flew down the road, leaving her bleeding, crushed and senseless. 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 
 In the horror that follows a dreadful accident, people seem stunned 
 and incapable of affording that help their ordinary good sense would 
 enable them to. So it was in the case of Lady Elmer; her father was 
 absent, and the servants let her lay where she was thrown for some 
 little time; one of them even suggested, with the superstition of igno- 
 rance, that they had better not move her till the '* crowner " came. 
 But Willet's wits came to her soonest, and she had her carried into 
 the nearest room, then ran for Cubby. 
 
 "Cubby ! oh, dear! oh, dear ! what a dreadful accident. Cubby! 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 195 
 
 Cubby! quick, quick!" But he not having heard of the accident 
 came to her quite leisurely. 
 
 "What's all this noise about, Mrs. Cubby?" 
 
 "Quick, you lazy man, quick, and go 'for the doctor." 
 
 "What! are you so very ill .?" 
 
 "Stupid ! don't you know her ladyship is nearly killed ? That Lady 
 Clare jumping from the window frightened the horses just as her 
 ladyship was on the carriage step, and I don't know how many limbs 
 is broken ?" 
 
 "Oh! the poor lady! We handsome sex have much to answer for." 
 
 "Yes — for making a — well a dunce -of some of us. But are you 
 going to let her ladyship die, while you stop here to praise yourself.?" 
 
 "Well, no; as it isn't you, I should have no object." 
 
 "Oh! you cruel wretch!" and she burst out crying. "I'll — I'll get a 
 divorce." 
 
 "You can't my dear. I never treated you with extreme cruelty." 
 
 "What! not cruel to wish me dead.?" 
 
 "Why, my dear, how you misunderstand a man. I said it wasn't 
 you that was nearly killed; I said — " 
 
 "There don't stop here to tell me what you said, or I'll go myself." 
 
 "But—" 
 
 "Go along, I say, or it may be too late." 
 
 "But—" 
 
 "None of your 'huts' but go!" and she put his hat upon his head 
 and pushed him out of the door. ''Well, some men are as stubborn 
 as mules, and have as large ears, too !" She would liked to have 
 made Cubby's a little lar*ger, too, by pulling, but suddenly recollecting 
 that she had left her lady insensible, she hurried back to her, forgetting 
 all her own petty little annoyances. 
 
196 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Chapter XXI. 
 
 Lady Clare concealed herself till night came, them fled to her own 
 home. But no loving mother awaited her. The house was closed, 
 dark and deserted. What should she do ? She must find shelter for 
 the night without exposing herself to be again arrested. So she stole 
 around to the back of the garden and tried the little gate. What was 
 her joy to find it open. She went in quickly but very quietly, up the 
 path she knew so well and under the beautiful trees. When near the 
 house, a light like- a star of hope shone from one of the servants' win' 
 dows. She rapped gently at the door, but no one opened it; she 
 rapped again a little louder; still she could hear no movement inside 
 and her heart sank within her. Yet she would not give up, but knocked 
 once more, still louder, and listened. Soon she heard the sound of a 
 pair of pattens; she knew the sound and her heart sent up a prayer of 
 thanks; it was her old nurse, Ruth. But the moment the door was 
 opened, and the light of the woman's candle fell upon her face she 
 uttered a shriek. 
 
 "Oh, poor Lady Clare, is it your ghost come back .?" 
 
 '"Sh! No, Ruth, let me in, quick. I am hungry, hunted, and 
 so faint with fatigue. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, my poor child!" and old Ruth closed and barred the door; 
 then putting her arm around her, led her to her own cosy bedroom, 
 where, although it was summer, afire was burning. "Now don't speak, 
 dear, till I give you a cup of tea, and you have eaten and warmed 
 yourself, for deary, deary, how cold you are 1" and the old lady quickly 
 spread the cloth, and taking the tea from the hob, where it stayed from 
 morning till night always ready; then cutting some bread, she quickly 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 197 
 
 toasted it, and buttered it generously; then placing cold meat and jam 
 upon the table, she pushed it close to Clare and bade her eat. She 
 was so hungry, having scarcely eaten anything since she left the ship, 
 that she obeyed the old woman like a d6cile child. She was so faint 
 and weak that she could not even ask about her mother. She took the 
 cup eagerly, but her poor hand trembled so that she nearly let it fall. 
 
 "Ah! poor dear! you shall first drink a little of my home made 
 wine." She drank a glass, then ate eagerly x)f the food. It seemed 
 to her a banquet for the gods! Her chilled blood was warmed and her 
 numbed senses aroused. 
 
 *'Ruth— " 
 
 '*Nay! don't talk till ye have drank the tea." So she ate a little 
 more, and drank the tea; then she felt stronger. 
 
 "My mother, Ruth, where is she? Not dead, or my heart would 
 have told me." 
 
 "No, my lady, she has gone to India, to consult your brother what 
 to do for you." Then Clare told her how she had made her escape, 
 and the terrible night on the ocean — everything except the scene with 
 Elmer Dudley. 
 
 "Now, Ruth, is there so secret room in this old mansion, where I 
 could go in case of danger ?" 
 
 " No really secret room, but there is a room that no one but the 
 family and servant's know of; it has no windows, only a small skylight; 
 the door is very low and concealed behind that stately old oak chair in 
 the library." 
 
 " Oh ! yes; I remember hearing that it led to an old lumber room 
 up stairs. But, dear Ruth, I shall not leave you till danger threatens. 
 Now I will write to my mother, telling her everything, and beg her to 
 hasten home ; then I will go to bed, for I am very tired." So she 
 wrote a long, loving letter. Then Ruth arranged a nice soft bed for 
 her in her room, and told her not to fear, for she would be near her 
 
198 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 all night long, and was a light sleeper ; the least noise would arouse 
 her. Then she stroked her hair, till she fell into a gentle slumber, and 
 filing on her knees she thanked Heaven for her darling's escape, then 
 kissing her gently, she, too, went to rest. 
 
 , Chapter XXII. 
 
 At Lady Dudley's five of the finest physicians and surgeons of Lon- 
 don were holding a consultation over the injuries of Lady Elmer. 
 They decided that it would not be necessary — at least they did not 
 think so at present — to amputate any of her limbs, though she was 
 dreadfully bruised and had several bones broken. 
 
 Lady Elmer, with hearing sharpened by intense suffering and eager- 
 ness to know her fate, heard nearly all the whispered consultation, and 
 the possibility implied that she yet might lose a limb, made her hatred 
 of Lady Clare so increase in strength and bitterness that she hardly 
 felt the terrible pain. The family doctor asked her if she would take 
 chloroform while the terrible gash in her forehead was being sewed; 
 she replied no; she could endure it. But when he saw that the pain 
 caused her to press her teeth so deeply into her lip that the blood 
 welled up, he would have pressed the chloroformed handkerchief ove 
 mouth and nose even against her will; but the scintillating fire of her 
 eyes was fixed on him so steadily that he dared not. At each fresh 
 pain she vowed in her heart to have a terrible revenge upon the one 
 who caused her loss of soul, and almost body, too. Then they set 
 her broken leg, but not a groan escaped her; her pain seemed to give 
 her a fiendish joy, that now she had justification for any cruelty toward 
 Lady Clare. The room was darkened, and she all bandaged and 
 bound up, was left with an opiate, and some one to watch but no^ 
 talk. But what opiate would set at rest a brain Hke hers, whose heart 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 199 
 
 was every second sending thither streams of wicked blood, keeping it 
 even more active for evil than it had been for months before ? 
 
 Thus she lay for weeks and weeks ; though crippled and helpless, 
 her will still ruled the whole household. She told her father, who was 
 a mild, loving man, completely under her sway, that she wished two 
 detectives to be kept constantly watching the De Mille Mansion, and 
 if Lady Clare was seen to leave or enter, or any indications of her 
 presence there were discovered, she should be immediately informed. 
 
 Willet had become very sympathetic for the proud, beautiful lady 
 who suffered so intensely for love, for though no one knew what had 
 occurred between the two ladies, yet Clare was recognized and held 
 responsible for Elmer's dreadful accident. So all the servants became 
 private detectives, and whenever they had an afternoon out, were sure 
 to pass the De Mille Mansion to see what they could discover; and 
 one venturesome and romantic young chambermaid, even went so far 
 as to ring the front door bell on some pretended errand, but no one 
 appeared, although she waited for a whole quarter of an hour. 
 
 Sir Francis had heard all the servants' gossip from Cubby, who 
 lived a part of his time with his wife at Lord Dudley's. He pitied 
 Lady Elmer, for he was now forced to believe that all her wickedness 
 was caused by her love for him ; so he sent his card twice a week with 
 wishes for her recovery. Each time she received it, she gnashed her 
 teeth and muttered: 
 
 "He does not love me, or he would come." Then a spasm of pain 
 would seem almost to stop the beating of her heart; there she would 
 lay, deathly pale and quivering, till Willet, becoming frightened, 
 would wet her face with cologne, and try to arouse her. 
 
 She was indeed to be pitied, for a woman who could love so in- 
 tensely, that terrible bodily pain became almost pleasure, endured for 
 his dear sake, that guilt, nay, even crime, were looked upon as only 
 means to the yearned-for end — where death itself, would have been 
 
200 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 accepted with more than a martyr's enthusiasm, to gain from him one 
 smile of returning love — was entitled to be viewed through the vail of 
 sweet charity. 
 
 At length her wounds were healed, and she was allowed to sit up 
 some hours each day; but the beautiful peace that the convalescent 
 feels; the dreamy pleasure only to view the changing clouds; the lux- 
 ury of sitting by the open window and breathing the fresh air; the 
 resurrection, as it were, seeing the world which had been dead for 
 many weeks alive again; the indescribable joy of life and returning 
 health, were as drossJ;o her. All these sweet feelings were merged 
 into love dangerously fierce, and a purpose of swift and dire revenge. 
 
 As the days went by, and she found that she was a cripple, and 
 would most likely remain one through life, one leg being shorter than 
 the other, and her side and arm partially paralyzed, drawing one eye 
 down slightly, her rage knew no bounds. The servants fled from her 
 presence, and even Willet, who had made of her a heroine of romance, 
 gladly hid herself in sorne closet. The scar on her forehead was red 
 and fierce, and when for the first time since the accident, she looked 
 into the glass, she gave a scream of horror, and with the stick she 
 used for a support, she shattered it to pieces. Her father coming^ in, 
 she told him to have the cruel things removed from every parlor and 
 room in the house, or she would serve them likewise. 
 
 Never once in all her long weeks of pain, had a thought entered 
 her mind against herself. The feelings of love and revenge had, like 
 a simoom, burnt up every tender feeling of a woman's heart, and left 
 her a wreck to make angels weep. One day she said: 
 
 "That woman is at her home, I feel it; and shall she enjoy life and 
 love, while I, who have lost so much, am living in a mental hell ? 
 Willet, bring me word to-night, or never enter this house again." 
 
 Willet dared not answer, but tremblingl}' put on a slight disguise, 
 and went to do her bidding. She passed and repassed the De Mille 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 201 
 
 Mansion, but could see no face at any of the windows; the front steps 
 were covered with dust, and grass growing in the pathways. She went 
 to the back gate, and her heart jumped to find it open. She went in 
 stealthily; she felt like a thief — looked everywhere, but could see or 
 hear nothing; becoming bolder, she tried the door, but it was locked; 
 she must get some news for her lady, but how ? After thinking and 
 thinking, she determined to go to the grocer's where they dealt; for if 
 the Lady Clare was at home she must eat, and as two would eat more 
 than one — the detective had reported that the house was in charge of 
 an old woman, she could find out if more thaniusual were ordered, 
 but she would have to go to work very delicately; so selecting a clerk 
 that looked good-natured and communicative, she asked for a couple 
 of pounds of sugar, some coffee, and had it ground, and a few other 
 things that took time to put up, all the while chatting with the young 
 man. 
 
 "The poor Lady Clare's at home again!" So she tried to find out 
 what he knew. "Have you heard how she is?" 
 
 "Well, now, you don't say so! The old lady that has been mind- 
 ing the house is a great object of interest to us all, and we noticed 
 that lately she orders more delicacies — in fact, more of everything. 
 So, so, the poor lady's back again. Well, well, I'm glad of it." 
 
 Willet had learned all she wanted, so hastened home and reported 
 to Lady Elmer, whose face lit up with triumph. 
 
 *'Ah! now I can have my revenge! Can the mother hiave returned 
 too .?" 
 
 *T think not, my lady.'' 
 
 **Then I shall have to wait. Oh! the days seem years, the time 
 passes so slowly. Oh! how old I am! Give me my writing mate- 
 rials." 
 
 In a few moments Willet had a letter directed to Lady Clare De 
 
 Mille, and was on her way to post it. 
 
202 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Chapter XXIII. 
 
 For many weeks Lady Clare lived in perfect seclusion. When the 
 street bell rang she hastened to the secret room, and there amid oid 
 furniture, worm "eaten and dusty, the silken hangings dropping away 
 piecemeal, old pictures of remote ancestors long since dead and for- 
 gotten, whose eyes stared at her in the semi-darkness, trunks of old 
 letters and boxes of ^usty books, she would sit for hours. The idea 
 of being again arrested, was her haunting terror. The cobwebs and 
 dust of years covered the little skylight window; it was a weird, ghostly 
 place. To keep herself from becoming nervous in the long hours of 
 waiting and suspense, she would read the old letters. The correspon- 
 dence of each writer was tied in a separate parcel, with little bits of 
 dingy, faded ribbon. 
 
 What a world of new experience the old trunk opened to her! For 
 awhile she would forget her own trouble, sympathizing with that of 
 another. One packet of letters began when the writer was a young 
 girl — clear, delicate, aristocratic writing — then came her marriage, then 
 trouble, then little children cheered her. The letters were sometimes 
 years apart, but the trouble seemed always there; then the writing grew 
 tremulous, and then ceased. Clare gave a sigh of relief, thinking how 
 pleasant it must be for kindly death to relieve one from terrible misery 
 or trouble. 
 
 One thing cheered her — that was the daily receipt of a loving letter 
 from Sir Francis. She always answered it, but begged he would not 
 come to see her, and thus expose her to the realization of her terrible 
 dread. 
 
 He had sent Lady De Mille several telegrams; finally one inter- 
 cepted her on her journey, and she hastened back with all speed. 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 203 
 
 The day before Lady De Mille arrived, Clare was all excitement; she 
 had just received Elmer's letter. It said: 
 
 **Lady Clare De Mille: The third of June will be the anniver- 
 sary of that day on which I learned that which has wrecked my life. I 
 beg you will have all your friends assembled, and as many of mine as 
 witnessed the occurrences of that night, as possible. I wish to do an 
 act, without the performance of which I could not die happy. Your 
 mother will have returned by then, and can make every preparation. 
 
 "Elmer Dudley." 
 
 "Ah! she wishes to declare my innocence! Her sufferings have 
 softened her heart." She had read of her terrible injuries and daily 
 reports of her health, in the papers Ruth always brought her. '' And 
 now she will render me tardy justice, but how can she obliterate the 
 memory of the pain and anguish, the shame, she has caused me ? But 
 it is past now, and I will only think of the future — the happy future! 
 Poor Elmer! she, too, has suffered. If I could, I would make her 
 well again, and as beautiful as ever. What does she say ? my mother 
 will be here.? Oh! that cannot be possible! So soon! No, it is too 
 much joy for one day." Then she called Ruth, and told her the good 
 news. She was so excited, that she laughed and cried at the same 
 moment; then throwing herself in Ruth's arms, she sobbed as though 
 her heart would break. 
 
 "Don'tee, dear, don' tee ; your troubles will soon be over. Oh! 
 don'tee, or — or I shall cry, too!" and with the word the tears came, 
 and so they relieved their over-burdened hearts. 
 
 " There, that will do," said Clare, wiping her eyes. ' ' Now I feel 
 like another Clare ; not the sad, despondent one of an hour ago, but 
 the light-hearted, happy Clare of other days." Old Ruth smiled, too, 
 then Clare ran away, and for the first time since her return, she 
 wandered all over the house, into every room. The furniture and 
 ornaments seemed like old friends, and she greeted them as such. In 
 
204 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 I 
 
 her mother's room she sat in the great easy chair and laid her cheek 
 against it." r 
 
 " Dear mother, how often has your loved head rested here," and 
 she kissed the insensate covering, "and soon it will again." And her 
 heart sent up a prayer of thanks for this foretaste of happiness. She 
 even ventured to take a hasty glance out of the window, which hereto- 
 fore she had avoided, as though certain death would have been the 
 penalty for the indulgence of her curiosity. But now the terrible 
 dread seemed to lessen as the time of the vindication of her innocence 
 drew near, for who could wish her re-arrest, when Elmer herself had re- 
 pented the wrong she had done her ? How beautiful the garden looked! 
 The weeks of neglect had only enhanced its wild luxuriance. The 
 mignonette, gilly flower, and heliotrope filled the air with the most 
 delicious and grateful of perfumes. Gorgeous butterflies seemed to 
 have come from all parts of the island, to make this quiet, undisturbed 
 spot their home. The birds sang on the trees in a fearless way she 
 had never known before. When her mother returned, it would be 
 indeed home to her, more valued and appreciated than ever. 
 
 Old Ruth now ventured to pick a nosegay for her dear child; and 
 never were flowers that did not come from a lover so caressed and 
 talked to. Had she known the day on which her mother was to re- 
 turn, she would have had each room bright with these sweet children of 
 the sunshine, for some hearts love them with such peculiar tenderness, 
 that it is almost pain to pluck them from their parent stems, and as 
 fo'r wantonly hurting or destroying them, they would as soon think of 
 hurting a little child. *| 
 
 This night she slept so peacefully, without those fearful starts wak- 
 ing her, bathed in perspiration and seeing handcuffs, prisons and 
 chains, till sleep had become almost a torture. In the morning she 
 wrote to Sir Francis; teUing him how happy she was, and all that El- 
 mer was going to do; for in her heart she did not doubt but that she 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 205 
 
 was about to make her all the reparation in her power for what she 
 had caused her to suffer. Then laying a slip of scented lemon and 
 one of heliotrope within the letter, she kissed it and soon it was in the 
 hands of her delighted lover. But he almost doubted the reality of 
 Elmer's sudden repentance, yet it was not impossible, as intense pain 
 has often been known to soften the heart. 
 
 Later in the day, when a carriage rolled up to the door and Lady 
 De Mille alighted, Clare could scarely restrain herself from rushing 
 down the stairs, out to the gate and into her mother's arms. 
 
 What a meeting was theirs ! Not to be described, only to be felt. 
 
 The servants all came flocking back, as if summoned by magic, and 
 there was sweeping and scrubbing and dusting; and boxes and 
 baskets and hampers arrived each hour. All seemed joyous bustle 
 and confusion. Dainty notes were sent all over the city, and gossip 
 said the De Milles were going to give a magnificent party, and gossip 
 wondered if the Lady Clare had been pardoned, and if she hadn't been 
 it was a burning shame that her mother could be so gay and her 
 daughter in prison. And if she had been, they would like to know 
 why poor women were left to serve out their long terms, and the rich 
 let off thus easily. 
 
 Still the preparations went on, yet no one saw the Lady Clare and 
 friends and enemies alike wondered what was to be the end. 
 
 For several days she had not heard from Sir Francis, and only that 
 she had perfect faith in him her heart would have been troubled. 
 
 *'It is all for the best," she would say to herself gently. " He is 
 thinking of me and perhaps even now doing something for my good." 
 Her mother encouraged her in this belief, so that since the arrival of 
 Elmer's letter, she had not had an unhappy moment. 
 
 And it was the eve of the grand party. 
 
\ 
 
 206 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 
 The carriages were arriving rapidly. The beautiful De Mille . 
 Mansion was transformed from the deserted, neglected pile of the last' 
 few months, into a fairy palace of light, flowers, perfume and music. 
 In the ladies' dressing-room was a bevy of beautiful women, indulging 
 in the fashionable pastime, gossip. 
 
 Gossip is a much maligned, scandalized goddess. She has her uses 
 but not her abuses; for when gossip ceases, there is silence; what the 
 world considers her abuses is something very different altogether — j| 
 scandal or twaddle. 
 
 Gossip is intellectual food, brightening our daily life, raising ouri 
 thoughts above the little corroding annoyances, strengthening us, 
 polishing off the rust accumulated by constant communion with unde- 
 veloped intellects. Gossip is the kindly interest in our neighbor's 
 affaiis, that would not prompt a word to harm, that only likes to 
 praise and please; the interchange of ideas developed by different 
 circumstances, the gathering of information — useful information that 
 no books can teach us. 
 
 Beautiful goddess! Men love thee, even better than thy humble 
 sisters, women; they spend, too, more time in thy worship, smoking 
 fragrant incense at thy shrine, but coward-like, they call thee Business 
 and Tobacco! 
 
 One gentle girl, the Lady Annie, said to a beauty by her side : 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad the Lady Clare is back again. She is so sweet 
 and lovely." 
 
 " Have you seen her ?" asked the other eagerly. 
 
 "No; but she must have returned, or why this party ?" 
 
 "Has she been seen by any one you know ?" She replied in the 
 negative. **How strange! neither have I heard of any one who has 
 
SECRETS TOLD. 207 
 
 seen her." Thus they talked on for some time, coming to no con- 
 clusion but that it was very strange, and they were curious to know 
 how it would end. 
 
 **But I saw Lady Elmer; you remember how beautiful she was ?" 
 A nod in reply. "Well, she is not even passable now. I've heard hints 
 of what frightened the horses, but nothing definite enough to satisfy 
 curiosity, so I am here to-night ready for any romantic adventure to 
 occur!" and the beauty drew on her long kid glove. 
 
 In the garden Lady Downington and her dog, attended by her 
 faithful courtier, Butterfly, paused a few moments before entering the 
 house. 
 
 *'Well, Butterfly, this is the most tantalizing aflair I was ever en- 
 gaged in. Of course, I don't ask you to love Lady Elmer any longer, 
 knowing how fond you are of beauty." 
 
 "No, no; I — I should be afraid of her! She looks so fierce in 
 her carriage." This was the longest sentence his lordship had been 
 ever known to say, and this was brought out by fright, thinking Lady 
 Downington might insist on his marrying Elmer, whether or no. 
 
 "Ahem ! Butterfly, what do you think of Lady Clare ?" 
 
 "Oh! ah! that would be so — so romantic!" But Lady Downington 
 did not know if her match-making powers were equal to this, so she 
 said no more on that subject. 
 
 "Well, Butterfly, Lady Elmer will be here to-night and perhaps she 
 will not look as bad as we think; it was in a dim light that I saw her. 
 She urged me to come to-night, why, I cannot tell; it can't be to meet 
 Lady Clare, for I've heard nothing of her pardon. Well, we shall 
 soon unravel the mystery. Let us go in;" and Lady Downington 
 joined the other ladies in the dressing room. From the moment of 
 her entrance, there was no lack of twaddle with an occasional sprink- 
 ling of something crueller. 
 
 Clare was in her room, pale as the costly dress she wore. **What 
 
208 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 does it mean ?" she thought. "No word from Sir Francis and in a 
 few moments I must be in the ball room. Elmer, too, has she at last 
 succeeded and stolen him from me? No, I will not have an unkind 
 thought against him!" Her mother came in, and kissing her, said: 
 
 "Dear child, do not look so sad. Remember this is the last night 
 of your dreadful trouble; then Sir Francis shall wait no longer for his 
 bride." 
 
 "That is it; why have we not heard from him ? Why is he not 
 here ?. Oh! mother, if he is false, this night would indeed end all my 
 troubles!" But the mother kissed and petted her, saying: 
 
 *' Bear up only a few hours more, darling, then if our hopes are 
 not realized, it will be time enough for despair. But you really ought 
 to rejoice, for Sir Francis is without doubt engaged in one more effort 
 for our benefit. Will you not come into the drawing-room ?" 
 
 " Not yet, dear mother; how could I bear the congratulations of 
 our friends, for what ? Not till Sir Francis or Elmer Dudley comes to 
 declare my innocence, will I expose m)'self to such humiliation. Go 
 you and receive our guests; but the moment they arrive send me word, 
 and I will come down." 
 
 So Lady De Mille went to the drawing-room, and received her 
 guests with smiling graciousness, though her heart bled for poor Clare 
 up stairs. The company were too well bred to even hint she had a 
 daughter, but they wondered, and wondered, and wondered, and the 
 time flew by. 
 
 Not wishing to have any of these awkward pauses that give so much 
 latitude for surmise. Lady De Mille led the dance herself. 
 
 "Lady Downington, please tell me why we are here to-night .?" asked 
 the Lady Annie. 
 
 "Well, child, you are asking more than I can tell. I supposed it 
 was to congratulate the Lady Clare on her release, but I see I was mis- 
 taken, as she has not even been mentioned, let alone seen." 
 
SECRETS TOLD» 209 
 
 ''Oh! 1 am so disappointed. But why did her mother give this 
 party then ? Do you suppose she expected her also, and is more bit- 
 terly disappointed than any of us ?" 
 
 "It is not too late for something to happen yet. I cannot think all 
 these costly and elegant preparations were made only to give the old 
 lady a chance to dance. But I like to dance myself, so excuse me till 
 I put this little darling into safe hands, then I shall join the next quad- 
 rille." Then Lady Annie sought the beauty. She was beginning to feel 
 so sorry for the poor mother, who could not hide how eagerly she 
 watched the door, and whose face, when the smile for a moment de- 
 parted, looked as if drawn by pain. 
 
 "Is it not too bad ?" she said. "What can have happened ?" 
 
 *'Oh, there will be a denouement yet!" the beauty replied. 
 
 But when the hours flew by, and supper was announced, the surprise 
 and wonder knew no bounds; yet Lady De Mille smiled and sat at 
 the head of her table. 
 
 Up stairs Clare counted the moments by heart-throbs. "Will they 
 never come.? Oh! I shall die, 1 shall die!" 
 
 Her nerves were strung to such a high tension, that it seemed the least 
 shock would break them, and leave her a quivering thing of beauty 
 without a mind. 
 
 She heard the rustling garments, as the ladies came from supper; 
 she heard the servants' gossip on the stairs; she heard the exquisite 
 music, as the dancers danced; she heard that same lovely sonata of 
 Mozart's. She could have shrieked in agony. As the last strains died 
 away, the servant announced in the distance, but to Clare it seemed 
 shouted in her ears in stentorian tones — 
 
 "Lady Elmer Dudley!" 
 
 She sprang to her feet, shook out her dress, gave a hasty glance in 
 the mirror — she was Eve's daughter — and in a moment she stood 
 
210 SECRETS TOLD. 
 
 within the drawing room door, where Elmer was bowing to the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Oh! what a wreck she looked! Where was all her proud beauty? 
 Where the fascinating glance ? Where the queenly dignity ? Alas ! 
 even Clare pitied her, and a murmur ol sympathy for her dreadful 
 misfortune filled the room. 
 
 " My friends, this is my birthday. You all know what happened 
 one year ago to-night. You all know how I tried to save my friend 
 — went to Australia, offered my fortune, periled my life ! You see 
 me now this dreadful wreck — this poor, pitiful satire of a woman — 
 this maimed and crippled mass, rendered so by the fiend it tried to 
 save! You see her there, smiling in her beauty, her lace and pearls 
 hiding her false heart. You see her there, the escaped convict, Clare 
 De Miller 
 
 But she did not faint; conscious of her innocence, she stood there 
 facing her enemy, and dauntlessly looked her in the eye. 
 
 ** Oh! I could not die in peace till I had sent her back to where 
 she belonged, among thieves and murderers! Officers, arrest that 
 woman! She is a tried and condemned thief, trying to escape her 
 just punishment!" 
 
 Two policemen appeared as if summoned by the evil one, and laid 
 their hands upon Clare's shoulder. 
 
 ** Elmer Dudley, God will avenge me!" 
 
 They seized her uplifted hand, and pressing the rude iron on her 
 delicate wrist, it closed with a sound that sent a shudder through the 
 room, and aroused the mother, who seemed to have been turned to 
 stone. 
 
 "No, no, no! you shall not take her again! My inocent child! it 
 will kill her! Take me instead! Where — where is Sir Francis .-* 
 He will not let you go! He will die, if need be, to save you!" 
 
 The ladies were sobbing now, and all was excitement and pity. 
 
SFXRETS TOLD. 
 
 211 
 
 The other handcuff closed with a click, and all hope died out of poor 
 Clare's heart. 
 
 "Oh, my mother! I cannot go!" 
 
 ''Nor shall you, darling!" Sir Francis stood in the door. 
 
 "Ah! that loved voice! I am saved!" 
 
 ''Officers, do you recognize this seal.? This is from her Majesty, 
 the Queen of England, declaring the innocence of Lady Clare De 
 Mille!" 
 
 In a moment they were in each other's arms, and where the police- 
 man had stood, appeared a white robed minister. After a moment's 
 consultation, Clare and Sir Francis stood before him. The sound of 
 a sword clanged on the marble steps, and the brother from India was 
 in time to give his sister to the man she loved. 
 
 As their hands were joined, Elmer, with a hiss like a wounded 
 serpent, rushed from the house, and from that hour, she was never 
 seen again outside her own home, by friend or foe. 
 
 But a life of happiness rewarded the Lady Clare for all her suffer- 
 ings. 
 
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