MY SECRET LIFE
was so soft, it was like a whisper or a flute; her name was I think Betsy.
I had none of the dash, and determination towards females, which I had in after life; was hesitating, fearful of being repulsed, or found out, but was coaxing and wheedling. Betsy used to take charge of my two little sisters (there was no regular nursery then), and used to sit with them in a room adjoining our dining room; it had a settee, and a large sofa in it, we usually breakfasted there. She waited also at table, and did miscellaneous work. I am pretty certain that we had then no man in the house. I used to lie down on the sofa in this room. One day I talked with her about her lip, put my head up and said: “Do let me kiss it.” She put her lips to mine, and soon after if I was not kissing her sister, I was kissing her regularly, when my mother was out of the way.
One day when she went up to her bed-room, I went softly after her, as I often did, hoping to hear her piddling. Her door was ajar, one of my little sisters was in the room with her, I expect I must have had incipient randiness on me. She taught the child to walk up stairs in front of her, holding her up, and in stooping to do so, I had glimpses of her fat calves. At the door, I could not see her wash, that was done at the other side of the room, but I heard the splash of water, and to my delight, the pot moved, and her piddle rattle. The looking-glass was near the window. Then she moved to the glass, and brushed her hair, her gown off, and now I saw her legs, and most of her breast, which looked to me enormous.
Then I noticed hair in her armpits; it must have been the first time I noticed any thing of the sort, for
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