a letter in his hand that had been at the bottom of the sea for two
years. My name and address were only just legible, and the edges were
open like a book. It was from my friend in Scotland, telling me that my
seven years were up and that he wanted this point settled. I will not
pretend that I did not suffer. It seemed a destiny. I wrote to him that
it was useless to think of me, for I knew that my marriage with him
would be loveless. I told him I was wiser now. The man I loved was
perfect in my eyes. I had met other men, who had pleased my fancy, but
John Allen had a charm of manner that won my heart. What I regretted
most was to break my promise--a promise so marked and solemn, given far
away in Scotland, while sitting on the side of heather hill. If I had
been a designing woman I could have accepted for my husband the second
mate of the Morning Star, who waited till the two years I had
contracted to stop in South Australia were over. Then, what was so real
on the ship, seemed only a dream, when he wrote and asked me if I would
marry him and go back to England if he came for me. I knew then that I
had my dream of honorable love and marriage. It was not to be. Upon what
trifles events turn. If I had not gone to 38 everything would have been
different.
I GET MARRIED.
In the year 1874 I became John Allen's wife. What has turned out so evil
seemed to me as good. I thought all well lost for love, for it is so. He
arranged it all; I left it to him. We were married very quietly at St.
Paul's Church in the morning. Not a soul was to know, and there would be
no fuss, or anything out of the way, but just our two selves. How all
comes back to me, as I think of those simple details. I thought how
happy I should make him; how hard I would try to be a good wife to him,
for I loved him so. In a week or so my husband went to London and I was
to work till he came back, which I hoped would be only a year
afterwards. But he stopped away for three years.
Long before John went to England new buildings had been put up for
business purposes only, but the firm still found provisions for the
assistants. I could have stopped on there, only there was no convenience
for me to sleep, so I found a situation in a gentleman's house, where I
could sleep at night. My mistress was Mrs. Arthur Blyth, of St.
Margaret's, Childers-street, North Adelaide. She wanted a cook, and I
applied. They were satisfied with my reference and I got the place.
There was only Mr., Mrs., and Miss Blyth. It was a well-appointed home,
and I had no washing to do or ironing. I was beginning to be a fairly
good cook and they were pleased with me. I had a comfortable home.
I knew I had married into poverty and I resolved to get as much as I
could before John came back. I could put up with anything, as I hoped to
have my rightful place with my husband some day. Mr. Blyth was knighted
and soon after that they went to England, where Sir Arthur was
Agent-General. Again for me were the shifting sands.
Speedily I got another home with Mrs. Murray, whose husband was a member
of the firm of D. & W. Murray's. Their house was at the corner of
Wakefield and Hutt streets. I had a lot more to do there than I had at
Mrs. Blyth's. I had all the washing and ironing to do. There was one
other girl, a coachman, and myself. They kept a lot of company and they
had only recently returned from London. Travel and voyages seemed to
bring such a lot of visitors. It was a relief to be done. I used to get
letters from my husband, but there was always delay after delay, and all
this time I had not told anyone that I was John Allen's wife. Such was
the beginning of my married life.
Does anyone love on purpose I wonder? I could not help doing so. It did
not bring me happiness. It made the whole difference when I had to tell
an admirer that I was a wife with no husband. Nothing could undo the
past. After all, I am John Allen's wife. I had any amount of pity and
blame, but cared for none of this, and I am now beyond caring.
But I must keep to that time. My brother was taken ill with rheumatism
and he could not move. He had a furniture shop in Hindley-street. He had
three little children, and, by the irony of fate, my sister-in-law met
with an accident and was taken to the "hospital." I used to go from
Hutt-street to Hindley-street, after attending a late dinner. There were
no cars then in the streets and I had to walk. I would try to do
something for those dear ones. And sometimes it would be nearly 11
o'clock before I could start back for Hutt-street. I may have many
faults, but I am no coward. I could face what awaited me, but truly
dismay would come if I saw a "group" of men or youths standing in the
street on my way to Hutt-street. I would run past. Only once a man I
tried to get pass stretched out his arms and caught me. He let me go as
quickly. I felt I was able to take care of myself so long as I was not
caught hold of. I felt lonely. I would sit and cry as if tears would do
anything. I cried and cried. The firm at 38, Rundle-street had another
shop in Hindley-street. Some changes were made and one of the firm went
to the shop in Hindley-street. He was my employer before, and I learned
that he wanted someone in the same capacity as in Rundle-street. I told
Mrs. Murray my distress at having to come so far so late at night. She
was very much put out. Still I think she realised my situation when I
explained that I was going back to my late employer.
All things considered, I had cause to be thankful. My quarters were not
at all uncomfortable, and there were some of the young people from 38
there to work and to live on the premises. Hutt-street was a more
pleasing-looking place to live, but how I dreaded to walk down there in
the night-time. When I see the cars now travelling to that part of the
city those dark and lone way-marks all come back. I was glad when my
sister-in-law got to her home again.
So the time went on. It certainly had a bright side, for I had more
time, and could go and see my friends at favorable times and on the
Sundays. The only drawback was some queer-looking old houses I had to
pass at the back, as I came out and in, for I saw some vicious-looking
people, which made me feel slightly nervous. I was often there all by
myself on the holiday time; no one else being in the whole place. I have
heard those people quarrelling at all hours of the night and making
darkness horrible. There was only a small fence with a right-of-way to
separate it from us. The shop was a drapery, clothing, and millinery
establishment, and the proprietor of the shop was responsible for the
rents of the old houses at the back. No one could have complained of the
place as dull in the daytime. From early morning till closing time I was
amused by some eventful excitement in what was taking place. The shop
was opposite to what is now the Skating Rink, or Ice Palace. At that
time there could be seen at the shop doors and on every available place
the goods put out in rolls for show and they had price-tickets on. One
Saturday afternoon I was looking out of the back window, when I saw a
woman who lived in one of the old houses going into her house with a
roll of tweed tartan over her shoulder and a ticket dangling loose to
tell how much a yard it was. It being tea-time, I called some of the
young men just in time to see it. They said it was taken from the front
door. The police were sent for and her place was searched, and it was
found she had enough stuff there to stock a shop.
All the things were brought into our place. There were rolls upon rolls
of all sorts of materials, with 27 suits of boys' clothing, and so on.
It turned out that there were the trade marks of many other shops on
goods there as well, and each one came and got his own. The woman was
taken to prison, and on the Monday morning the owners had each to go and
identify his own goods. All the things were taken to the station. I had
to go, too. I was summoned in the name of Macdonald. It was then that I
told my employer that I was John Allen's wife. I could not give a name
that I had no right to. There was no end of trouble about those goods,
and the case being more than could be settled in the Police Court the
matter went on to the Supreme Court, for trial. We had to go to the
Supreme Court when the time came.
Day after day before John went to England, he told me of some relative
of his who had married a second time in a very short interval. I only
knew what he chose to tell me of this friend. I thought this friend was
the cause of my husband staying away so long. I had a letter from him to
say that he would like to bring this relative with him to Australia when
he came back, and I was to send a telegram to say "Yes" or "No." I made
enquiries about the cost of the telegram, and was told that, with the
name and address, it would cost me over £6. The sending of telegrams
was very new then. I would have said "No," I am quite sure. Although I
would not wish to do an unkind action, behind this was my suffering.
John knew my opinions on that subject, and calm reason could have told
him I could not have acted differently.
Again and again would arise in my mind instances I knew of both at 38,
Rundle-street, and elsewhere, of marriages like mine, which had been
apparently happy, and where promises had been loyally kept, and both
were blessed. The objectless course my life was taking did not make
matters any better. Who was I that I could not do as others had done
without sin? Then I had to accept the unpalatable advice all round that
I should not have married. With one thing and another fresh difficulties
for ever seemed cropping up with regard to my husband. Has this sort of
thing ever been sufficient to satisfy a woman's heart I wonder? All the
forces of evil were arrayed against me at that time.
Then he wrote and said that he was coming back, and I thought after what
I had written to him that I had gained my point, and that he was
returning to me. I had formed my own opinion of the man I had married,
and I was impressed with the tone of his life when I first knew him.
There was nothing foppish about John Allen. He was courteous toward
women, and this contrasted well with the familiarity of some young men,
whom we both knew. I wanted no unwarrantable interference between him
and me. I knew I would do my best for him, but that if anything upset my
confidence in him he would find my convictions were strong, and that
strong they would remain, despite human affection, or soreness of heart.
People do wise things and foolish things for the sake of love, which
they would never think of doing at other times.
So I brightened up, and set about my work with a sense of duty. I was
happy; yes, a really happy girl once more. I had allowed myself to
believe that at last, after my many disappointments, my husband would
really come. He did not positively give the name of the steamer by which
he was coming, or when he would arrive. I felt a nameless uneasiness,
for I had bought over the goodwill of a boarding-house in Pirie-street,
and paid £50 for it. Several of the gentlemen already there remained on.
My reason for choosing this home was that I felt so full of energy, that
the thought of doing nothing, and being a helpless creature, was one
that did not suit me. I hoped John would see everything in the same
light. To me life in all its aspects was so real. I had no false pride.
One can never foretell events, and sometimes all things seem possible.
An any rate, it was my own money I used. I never troubled my husband for
any support. Perhaps that could not be helped, but I do know that I had
not a shilling in the world when John went away. I have no choice but
to speak the truth, and I think he will forgive me for doing so after
all I have gone through.
One day a business gentleman came to see if I could find room for a
young clerk, who was coming to his warehouse in Rundle-street. He asked
if I could have the room ready for that night, as the steamboat was
hourly expected. When evening came I waited and watched for this young
man. My anxiety made life a continual waiting for my husband. Day after
day, and night after night, I thought of him. I can scarcely bear to
think of that time. I felt that when he arrived he would go to some of
his friends, who would tell him my address in Pirie-street. On that
eventful night that the young man was to arrive I had gone to bed when a
knock came to the door. I opened the door, thinking it was the man for
whom the room had been made ready. In came my husband. He was but little
changed. I thought him better looking.
I will say nothing about this mad love of mine. John went always
straight to his point, whatever it was, and before he was in my room
five minutes he told me that his relative had come. It was the one we
had quarrelled about in our letters. I never quite knew what I said, but
whatever the words were he understood them. I lost all control of
myself. All my hopes were quenched in a moment, and the future seemed
most terrible to me. I saw everything, and it was not as I hoped it
would be. It never dawned on me that his feelings for me could be any
different from my own for him.
A PARTING OF WAYS.
The next day I realised how great was the gulf which lay between us. I
hated concealment. After a few very unhappy weeks there came the parting
of our ways. John said it was all my fault. Truly opinions differ. He
told me his love was only boy's love. I don't dispute that, but still it
was love, and how was I to know that it would die right away. In vain I
tried to keep on as if nothing was the matter. Any hope of being able to
bear my burden in silence, in such a place as a boarding-house, was not
to be thought of. The rumor spread. I was ill for a time, and suffered a
good deal. I knew all joy in life was over for me. I was subject to all
kinds of comments as to the real reason why my husband left home. When I
got better I knew I would have to face life's duty again. I could not
bear my trouble on the spot; I thought to escape from the scene where I
had failed so. As my brother had supplied some of the furniture for a
consideration, I got him and his wife to come into the house. I thought
I would find pain more easily borne if I passed swiftly from place to
place, and I advertised for a housekeeper's position. Beyond that, I had
no plan just then, but I had a fixed purpose to leave Adelaide. Bitter
as had been my experience, now that my husband had left me, perhaps for
ever, I nerved myself to the struggle. I resented the blight, which was
on me while I was in Adelaide and breathing the same air as they; I had
a wish to be free. Something prevented me from giving up altogether, or
I might have been led into the depths, and have clouded my life for
ever; I loathed the very sight of evil.
I got a reply to my advertisement. It was a request to take charge as
housekeeper at the Clarence Hotel in King William-street. I did not have
far to go. I had commonsense enough to think that the excitement of
hotel life would be a possible relief for my troubles. Still, I used to
wend my way to the shipping company in the hope of getting a passage
anywhere. I knew I could travel well by sea, and as stewardess--if such
a post had been open--I would have gone without delay. The Clarence
Hotel was a busy place then. Underground there were large dining-rooms,
known as "The Shades," where hundreds came every day. There were very
few places for that purpose in the city then. What is now the Tivoli
Theatre, was then only "White's" Rooms. The proprietor of the hotel had
charge of those "shades," or dining-rooms, which were for the public. I
did not have any work to do there, but had only to see that it was
carefully managed. I had to deal with the tradespeople and to give out
the stores. I was employed there because the landlady was ill. There was
no family, except a little adopted girl. There was, however, plenty to
do, and existence had to be struggled for. It did seem a rush to get all
that was wanted for so many. There were both men and women cooks, and
men and women waitresses, with other employes about. Apart from the
"Shades" downstairs, we had both public and private dining-rooms
upstairs. I saw to the letting of the rooms, and also attended the
people who hired the apartments there. For the most part they were
either musical or theatrical people.
I can well remember Nellie Stewart's father engaging rooms for himself
and his two daughters. After all those bygone years I saw Nellie Stewart
the other day looking so young. Maggie Moore was staying there, too. She
was Mrs. Williamson then. There was plenty of delight and excitement
everywhere, and no restrictions were placed on my movements. I came in
contact with and was on speaking terms with many congenial people, and
was removed from the miserable sufferings which had made up my life just
previously. But all the amusements, to which I had a free "entree,"
could not make up for the human fellowship which was snatched from me.
My courage would sink when I saw my husband and his friend coming along
from the Post-Office in King William-street. They would be laughing and
looking so gay. Then my mind would go back to the time, unspoiled by
pain, which he and I had together. Surely when I married John S. O.
Allen it never occurred to me that it would be a union with one who
would in no way help me onward. He devoted himself to his relative, but
this did not lessen the pain that such a factor should have come to
another person's houses and sow discord. If I had found out in time I
would not have been in South Australia when they came. I was deprived of
all now, when I wanted companionship most; and from his point of view
everything I did was simply detestable. I could do nothing to please
him. He would tell me so with a sneer. My future was all a blank. I
learned from a conversation between my master and mistress that they
would like to sell over the goodwill of the Clarence Hotel. There was
again the inevitable. I did not mind much, because I was brought up in
the midst of real privations, such as affected myself only. But I could
not ignore the scandal or forget that the world might imagine that I had
been very busy weaving nets, and that I had caught myself in them, as
was sometimes told me. It was no easy matter to go out and in, and to
hear and see so much humiliation. I remained at the Clarence till my
employer sold the business.
I was sorry, for it was peopled with kindly human beings, whom I knew
well and could mix with, even to the maids. When I went there first, as
they told me afterwards, they had made up their minds not to like me. As
I was the first housekeeper to take charge over them they looked on my
coming with annoyance, but, anyhow, I felt confident that I would do
what was right for all, and I had, in various ways, seen to their
comfort, both in regard to their meals and their bedrooms. I was
grateful to those waiting men and maids when I saw how pleased they were
to help me in any emergency. The lady, when well, was very fond of going
out. I could not object to that, although I had no time for much outing,
but I had to go. I went everywhere with her. They had a private house at
Norwood. A man and wife lived there as caretakers, and all the hotel
washing was done there. I was always glad to go there, the garden being
a consideration. We drove about, too, wherever the lady wished. I never
before had such times. What with the theatre, and one thing and another
no one would think that I was a discarded wife. I had tried hard not to
be crushed, and faced my loss, only there was the discontent left, and,
so far, all effort to forget was of no use at all.
At last the valuation of the hotel was set about and the people who came
in did not require a housekeeper. My employers went to their house at
Norwood. I knew it would take all my courage to endure what was before
me, with no scrap of human kindness to help me. My only desire was to
find some hiding-place, where I would not hear the ceaseless "Poor Mrs.
Allen" spoken, as I heard it that day. Forlorn in spirit, I went to Port
Adelaide. A lady and gentleman whom I knew had taken the management of a
new club there. I thought if I could get a place till I could find a
ship that would take me away, I would be glad to do anything till then.
Life seemed no worse than at other times. I did not sit down and pity
myself. It was others with their pity that I did not want. My early
experience gave me the possibility of bearing real pressure, and I knew
what it was to be homeless. I am telling my story in my own way.
I went with the people I mentioned. They were kindness itself. They were
only newly married and did not understand housekeeping. I worked
henceforward with but one object in view, though it was long before I
realised it. At last the opportunity came to go as stewardess on a
sailing vessel. I would have liked better if I could have had the chance
to go on a steamboat. The ship I went in was the South Australian and
she was under the command of Captain Bruce.
I remembered who I was, and what I was, and why I was on board that
ship. It was a conundrum. I was not on pleasure bent and did not know
where I was going. The ship looked as if bound on an excursion, Captain
Bruce being a favorite with those who went sea voyages. He had on board
his wife and baby daughter, and a maid. The doctor was also a married
man and was accompanied by his wife, a little baby, and a maid also.
Such a number of people whom I knew were on board. All on one side of
the "saloon" was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Goode and their
family. Amongst the other pleasing people on board were the Rev. Charles
Clark. He went as far as South Africa. Mr. R. S. Smythe was a traveller,
too. It was January 8 when they started and a fine morning, but when a
strong wind and a rough sea caught the sails I had plenty to do.
I RETURN TO SCOTLAND.
It was no hardship for me to be on the ocean, but for one thing there
was not much scope for recollection of my troubles for the first few
days. Little by little I began to feel the goodwill of the people on
board. What pleasure Mr. and Mrs. Harris, from Prospect, showed in
being kind to me who had so little to make life worth living. I got to
know Mr. and Mrs. Harris very soon after I came to South Australia, when
the future for me looked bright and sunny. I dared not cast a glance
into the future at times. The ship was so crowded that I had to sleep in
what was known as the deckhouse, and so did the doctor's maid. As the
South Australian steadily surged along there were many notes of mirth
and laughter, and they were loudest wherever the Rev. Charles Clark
happened to be. When it was nice and calm all would be invited to the
poop, where Mr. Clark would read and recite to us from Charles Dickens
and others. Then there were other amusements, such as concerts and
theatricals. I was under no restraint in the ship, but went about all
over it.
There was a tiny boy put on board just before we sailed. He was to be
given to his relatives when the ship reached London, but nobody seemed
to have any particular charge of the wee laddie, and I liked to know
that he was in bed every night before I went myself. He would get away
in the forecastle with the sailors, and I was frightened when I saw him
up in the rigging ever so high. I made little caps for him and mended
his clothes. Some of the ladies taught me some fancy work, and I taught
them how to knit stockings. I was asked by one lady if I would go on to
the Continent with them. This was opportune and the one thing I wished,
while I had plenty of time to think the matter over before we got to
London, if I could only decide what to do.
Until then I did not know how much woman can bear and live through. On
board the Morning Star I felt influenced by all that was best in me. We
cannot sever right from wrong. I knew my marriage was a failure, and how
I dreaded the by-and-bye. Was it to be like this, always empty of
happiness? Gone for ever were the innocent days of girlhood. I have
lived a lifetime since then. Although a sea rolled between my husband
and me, and I hoped in that way to forget him, my thoughts would revert
to him and his cousin. He consoled himself with her society for three
years in England, and he was not necessarily without her society now. I
sometimes wonder even now, in a dull dazed way, if this lonely wretched
being is really I. "It was very imprudent and impulsive of me to go to
sea," but calm reason told me I could not have acted differently. After
what had been told me by credible witnesses the underhand ways seemed so
intolerable. It was assumed that I had no right to resent it, and that
there should have been no more consideration for me than if I had been
an Indian squaw. To write about this is like living through that awful
time again. I let myself go away, and yet I loved that man better than
anything in the whole world. Life to me was hard and bitter and cruel,
but on that blue sea I prayed that I would not be beaten. In a
suppressed voice I declared "I won't be beaten in life so soon." It
seemed as if I was as a leaf driven before the wind, and so how could I
ask God to help me not to be weak and vanquished. It seemed to me as
though I could never know what fear meant again; yet I wanted a little
guidance just then.
I am typewriting most of this with some of the old writings before me
written on board the South Australian. That voyage nerved me to face
life with renewed courage. I could see that it was clearly meant that I
should live the rest of my life alone, with no human companionship.
Having faced that fact, the greatest bitterness was over, but learning
the lesson was hard. I was now strong once more.