My Wife's Earnings. A tale of the Married Women's Property Act, etc

Chapter I. The Star Of The Music-hall

Fulham parish proper is the most improper parish by which the Great Metropolis is surrounded. It is a crowded, yet dreary region ; neither garden, tree, nor meadow, to be seen about the place, nor is their absence compensated for by brilliant shops, or breezy walks. The High Street, which is a very low street, leads direct to the Thames, to Old Ful ham Church and churchyard, and to my Lord Bishop of London's palace ; it is an unbroken row of one and two storied wooden huts, with doorways not sufficiently high to admit its inmates without a very low obeisance, and which could not have been painted since they were cobbled to gether. Adjoining this uninteresting parish, too, is an unsightly gas ometer, surrounded with an acre of dust-heaps ; and adja cent to this dangerous and offensive pile, is a colony of pigs and Irish, the former very much like other pigs, but the lat ter of most revolutionary aspect, and who only need the priest's sanction and encouragement, or any " jintlemin to step on the tail of me coat," to blow up the gas-works and all the Saxon Fulhamites with it.

The locality where the resident Irish of this parish " most do congregate," is styled Fulham Fields, and a very apprOlS priate name, too, barring the fields ; why there is hardly a blade of grass to be seen there ; it would be well for the " childer " who run about the mud-heaps there, less cared for than the pigs, it would be well for them if there were a few bright fields about them to refresh their eyes, and charm their senses. Fulham Fields is nothing more than a village Seven Dials ; you traverse up one slushy lane and emerge into another, as well as paddy's pigs will let you, and see nothing but crowds of sad dwellings and demoralised human beings ; the door ways of the cabins blocked with chattering women, in all varieties of patched and ragged costume, but all demonstra tive of the brightest of colours ; while the men, with dirty checked shirts tucked up to the elbows, exposing brawny tattooed arms, discuss " Ould Oireland's grievances " over pipes and beer both inside and outside the grimy beerhouses which are plentifully distributed about this benighted dis trict.

Yet in fairness to Fulham parish, and to those who unhappily reside within it, we are bound to say that the Bishop's Walk is a very pleasant promenade for husbands wives and lovers — husbands and wives having done with love, are not classified with lovers — on a summer evening ; this walk di vides the bishop's ancient palace and gardens from the river, and is an avenue of a mile long, skirted with hundreds of lofty trees. At one end of the walk is Fulham Old Church, and a very picturesque old church it is, with grassy graves behind it, and the meandering river, spanned by a quaint old wooden bridge, gliding along at its base, bearing on its silvery bosom steamers crowded with people on their way for a merry holiday at Kew Gardens or Richmond Hill • while the other end of this truly magnificent avenue termi nates in a burst of green meadows.

We should not have so elaborately introduced Fulham to the attentfon of the reader had it not been for the fact that 11 happens to be the home of Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley, who tad a comfortable residence in River Crescent, a respectable i'ow of rather ancient houses, with those old angular abut ments over the doorways, and close upon the church end of the Bishop's Walk. I he Kingsleys were what is understood to be in the prime of life, and had been married twelve years, and, with the ex ception of two or three years, during which period they had made their home in furnished apartments on Pentonville Hill, they had resided within the sweet yet mournful sound of Fulham bells. They must live somewhere, but the only reason that Mr. Kingsley could give for taking up his residence there, so far away from his City employment, was, that it was west, the end of London that he liked the most, and secondly, that up the Strand, through Piccadilly, Knights bridge, Brompton, the Fulham Road, and Walham Green, made it an agreeable omnibus journey from home to busi ness, and business to home.

Mr. Kingsley was engaged in a lawyer's office in the neighbourhood of the Strand, but, unhappily, a month pr< vious to the opening of this " ower true tale," through the downfall of his master's business, caused by a rash specula tion, he had no employment at all. He had constantly ad vertised, and as constantly answered advertisements, for en gagements in and out of his profession, but his endeavours had been fruitless, and, with most uneasy mind, he often nrhiled away a miserable hour — miserable through want of occupation — beneath the trees of the Bishop's Walk. Mrs: Kingsley had been an attractive concert-room singer, a magnificent woman, and a fashionable dresser. Besides the gift of a delicious voice, she had rare dramatic action, and wonderful imitative capabilities, which swelled the treasury on Miss Arabella Bowring's benefit nights.

But the personal charms of Miss Bowering — her maiden name — were even more captivating than her professional cleverness. Her face and figure haunted many a heart, and formed the sweet subject of many a midnight dream. She knew all this, and so did those who engaged her. Her forte being character-singing, she often had the opportunity of displaying her fair proportions before her admirers. Sometimes she would dress as a Circassian slave, her costume necessitating an exposure of her rounded arms and shoulders, white as thistle-down. This would create a furor of delight among her young men adorers. Then she would appear before them as an English page of the olden time, in rich short gold embroidered tunic — presented to her by Mr. Kingsley when he was her lover, and nightly drank his brandy and water beside the evening-dressed chairman, whose chief duties appeared to be to drink grogs with those who paid for them, lead with his hammer the " rapturous applause," and cry, " Miss Arabella Bowering will sing another song, ladies and gentlemen !"

When she appeared as the page, in the aforesaid tunic, and crimson velvet cap and feather, why then the feelings of her audience were stirred to the liveliest commotion, and the heart of many a love-sick swain was set beating to the tune of " would she were mine !" On her benefit-nights, the broughams of west-end swells mingled with Hansom cabs at the door of the flaring tavern music-hall. Bouquets were showered on her, innumerable presents of books, gloves, jewellery, were sent her, with let ters breathing the tender passion, couched in the most ful some language of adulation, and proposals honourable and dishonourable. Scandal, of course, this music-hall beauty provoked. She was not, indeed, as " chaste as ice, as pure as snow," her professional life did not permit her to come up to the poet's severe standard of virtue ; she had to sing, and dress, and hear and see things in the poisonous atmosphere of these abominable places, that could not but be loathed by all wo men who are as careful to abstain from the appearances of evil, as Miss Bowering was from the commission of it.

After her enchanting performances, and her delicious sing ing, there was quite a scramble amongst her fast young lovers who should be honoured by escorting her home. But Harry Bowering, a terribly " big brother," was usually in at tendance upon Arabella to answer that question, and to do all the honours himself. Harry and his accomplished sister were orphans, and the brother was quite a dependent — a burden almost — on Ara bella's earnings. He had learnt no trade, nor sought any occupation ; he was content to be a pensioner on his orphan sister, and she was content that he should be so. Could there be a happier state of things for indolent Harry ? See him at the chairman's table, always dressed tip-top in season able costume, rings on his fingers, a rich gold chain across his vest, smoking the best cigars, and drinking brandy grogs, and saying and listening to divers funny things by the privi leged few who congregate round the table in the proximity of the stage on which Arabella is nightly winning plaudits, renown, and hard cash —the latter Harry had chief control of, leaving the other two as his sister's share.

Harry grew selfish in his ignoble easy circumstances, and had a fear of Arabella's marrying, which would be tanta mount, he thought, of depriving him of his source of income. His sister had discovered his aversion to her altering her social status, and she attributed it to its right souice, al though Harry stoutly denied the impeachment. " Marry at your will, and at your pleasure, Arabella," he said one night, after they had arrived home from the music hall, and as he spoke, he drew off his gloves, and tossed them into his hat. " I know this," he added, in mock parental tones, which seemed distilled through tears — " whether you recognise it or not, but I feel that I have been a father to you in your orphanage." " But I don't want a father, Harry," playfully retorted Arabella, taking her plaid shawl from her shoulders, and re clining on the couch by the fire, for it was winter time.

" I am tired, Harry, of being continually escorted about by a brother. It makes me feel like one who couldn't get a husband, or a prisoner in keeping of a gaoler, or a silly young lady that couldn't take care of herself." " Enough. I see. Inferentially, you want a husband ?" " Inferentially, I do," replied Arabella, in her brother's solemn, gruffy tones, and then bursting into a ringing laugh. " Confidentially, Harry, I mean to be married," she added, still laughing, while her portly brother — and for a young man he was unmistakably portly, even corpulent — lifted his light eyebrows, and turned round upon his chair, and looked upon his sister in surprise. " Beware, Arabella, be — ware !" growled her brother, solemnly shaking his head ; but it was a sanctimonious growl, and meant by Harry to be very impressive and con vincing.

" Be— ware of what, Harry ?" she asked, still imitating her brother's gruffy voice, and tones, which he meant to be impressive, but which were comic to his sister, for she knew them to have their source in brandy and water, which never affected his legs, however many " go's " he might indulge in while sitting round the chairman's convivial table, waiting to escort his sister home. Whether it was that Harry took offence at his sister's hu mourous reception of his emphatic caution, or not, but he made no reply to her question, but heaved a sigh as if well ing up from a deeply-injured heart, crossed one long leg over the other, and fixed his eye on the ceiling. " Beware of what ?" again asked his sister. " Of a husband." " Are they such dreadful creatures, Harry ?" tantalisingly asked Arabella, bringing an elegant scent-bottle to her well shaped nose.

" Arabella — let me tell you as your brother, that you are treating a very serious subject with great levity. This husband hunting has made you silly." " Brandy and water always makes you grandiloquent and solemn — that is, when you go beyond your usual quantity. Ah ! my brother," she added, sincerely and unaffectedly, " I wish you had something better to do than hang about in those horrid music-halls after me, and drinking those beastly spirits." " Never fear for me — I am happy enough. I am moved by a deep interest in your happiness and welfare, and not by ' beastly spirits,' as you term brandy and water, which arises from a want of experience." " In that direction may I never be wise. Nightly I see around me scenes that sicken me of my profession ; a most unwomanly one it is, and ' " Arabella !

Have you been to Spurgeon's ?" " No, Harry, I have been to mv own eyes and heart — the best preachers, after all, if we would only give them a little fair play." " What has happened, Arabella, that makes you hold such low opinions of a profession in which you have so long shone as a star ?" Harry was now in earnest, and his question was asked in a natural unaffected manner. He saw, or fancied he saw, in his sister's manner, that something had occurred during the evening to give her deep offence. " Do you know, Harry, that often, in the very midst of my performances, I hear our mother's upbraiding voice — but there, it is no use wearying you with feelings, which you do not understand, though a lamented mother's name be mentioned with them." " I don't know so much about that," said Harry, gruffly, lowering his brows to frowning point.

" Look here, Arabella, you are too fast about me. I think as much of mother as you do, and father too, and curse the day of the ill-fated railway accident that deprived us of them." " But do you ever hear their voice, Harry ?" " Ton my word, Arabella, I think it is you who have been at the brandy and water ! How can dead people speak ?" " I knew you could not understand. Dead people speak to me, and I am bound to hear." " Very rude if you didn't," said her brother, jestingly. " And what did the dead voice say ?" " What it has often said before — that my life— the life you utroduced me to — " " Thank you for acknowledging so much." " Oh ! it has been a life of sin and peril." " Nonsense ; I have always been with you to protect you from that. Besides, what could I do better for you? or what could you do better for yourself?

Your voice and general cleverness, were not given to be hid under a bushel. No, my opinion is, that if mother could be at one of your performances, she would be rather proud of you than other wise." " Then it could not have been mother's voice that spoke to me ?" " How could you think it ?" " Ha — that is your question — how will you answer it ?" she asked. " Indeed, it is not worth answering," replied her brother, who was puzzled what else to say. " Better have said that you could not, than evade it. I detest evasions." Arabella spoke in earnest tones when she added — " It is our mother's voice that has spoken to me over and over again, and warned me over and over again, amid the glare and applause of the detested music-hall !" " Arabella !" " It is her spirit that has hovered over me — not my brother's — and kept me from falling into the hands of such scoundrels as Captain Baxter !"

Harry rose from his seat in fury ; he buttoned his coat over his broad chest, and taking his hat in his hand, with an eye full of chastisement for the captain if he had dared to be rude to his sister. " I'll horsewhip him ! I'll— I'll-" " Wine with him," added Arabella, while her brother's passion prevented him finding adequate language for the ex pression of it. " Don't bluster ; I can do all the horse whipping myself, if I am so inclined. There, read his im pertinent letter," throwing it on the table, and looking any thing but pleased upon her brother, who she believed, he was so weak-pated, had sanctioned, even if he had not sug gested, the captain's covert overtures to her. " The gallant captain appears to be a friend of yours," she observed, while her brother's unsteady hands fumbled over the releasing the letter from the envelope.

" Well, he has been a friend to me." " Paid for a bottle or two of wine— eh ?" " Oh, better than that. He lent me fifteen pounds last week. I call that a test of real friendship ; at all events it is good enough for me." " How could you horsewhip such a friend ?" she asked, with unmistakable contempt for her half inebriated brother, whose massive head, with short-cut light hair, was bent over the letter under the light of the glittering chandelier. " Make no mistake about me, Arabella ; I would horse whip the captain as soon as look at him if he insulted my sister. But I have to find it out. This is what is called the aristocratic handwriting, which no fellah can make out. You must be familiar with the captain's penmanship, or more clever than I at deciphering hieroglyphics. I shall advise the captain to spend half-a-guinea for six lessons in the art of writing.

It ought to be something good to remunerate a fellow for the loss of time in spelling it out. This is just the handwriting that a fellow's tailor should adopt when he is dunning you — " " Give me the letter !" cried Arabella, somewhat in the tones of the decidedly strong-minded Lady Macbeth, when she cried " Give me the dagger !" at the same time snatch ing it from the hand of her irresolute husband. But Ara bella's clutch at the letter was not so successful, for her brother quickly held it back, thus defeating her design, and was about to remark upon the beauty of good manners, when he was cut short by his indignant relative. " Read," said his sister, taking a pace or two across the apartment " It is not quite so easy. The captain, I should have thought could have written a better fist. I can just make out — ' Loveliest Arabella.' " " And can you see nothing about ' your amiable brother sanctioning his inviting me to a nice little champagne dinner at Greenwich ?' " " What's the harm of that ?

Don't be a prude. Besides, what could I do — " " Knocked him down, had you been a man and a brother," she readily replied before he had quite finished his sentence. " Oh, ah, but I don't happen to see that the captain merited such a return for asking a fellow's sister to a champagne dinner. I should think not, indeed. And let me tell you, Arabella — " " Tell me nothing." " What a temper !" " Deeper than temper, Harry. Outraged feelings, would be the truest description of my sufferings." " I wish some one would outrage my feelings every day in the week with an invitation to a champagne dinner," observed her brother, still poring over the note. " Now I think I have spelt through it all, and, hang me, if I see a word that any one other than a prude could object to." " Fifteen pounds has blinded you to your sister's character.

What a buzz there would be in the hall the day after it be came known that I had dined with the captain, and driven home in the captain's brougham ; what think you would then be said about your sister ? But what would it matter to you .sbiohg1 has your income was secured ?" " You are giving me a deuced nice character. Pray what have I done that you should abuse me thus ?" " I am going to make myself a better woman, and I am most anxious to make you a better man. Successful as my career has been as a music-hall singer, I have long felt that it has been a most degraded one. What talents have been 1 mine have been used to demoralise men and women, rather than to raise them as well as entertain them. Me indeed to sing songs that I am ashamed to think of, and to wear unseemly costumes, to pander to debauchees, sots, poor clerks, and painted paramours !

Oh ! Harry, I am heavily oppressed by an accusing conscience. But I thank the gallant captain for his invitation. It has made a woman of me ; brought out a music-hall career in bold relief ; and told me in language as plain as if he had written it — " " One thing," interrupted her brother, who had been pro foundly indifferent to his sister's passionate condemnation of her past life, " if the captain had written it nobody could read it. But joking apart, Arabella, music-hall earnings have bridged over several years of our orphanage, and has re sulted in a husband for you. So do not be ungrateful for so much good How different now your views and opinions to those we expressed together when you almost leaped from the stage into my arms, and wept with joy at your success." " I was little more than a child then, and had no one to direct me to a better course of life.

I am older and wiser now. Then, in my innocence, I had no idea that such de tested creatures as Captain Baxter crawled the earth, and hung about music-halls ; nor could you, I should think, for, although older than me, you were little more than a boy." " I repeat, you are too hard on the captain." " Psha !" cried Arabella, with a contemptuous toss of her majestic head, which was crowned and braided with rich dark brown hair, while a circlet or hoop of gold, helped to bind it. " The captain's intentions are honourable," insisted her brother, but he blushed while he said it. " It is dishonourable of you to say so. Rich captains do not invite lady music-hall actresses to private dinners without intending insult, which you must know." " Thank you. I know no such thing, Arabella. Captain Baxter is celebrated for keeping a good table, and fond of associating round it — " " Ballet girls and music-hall singers.

This is a plot, I tell you, against your sister's virtue ; and you, who should be her protector, are a party to it !" " Confound it, Arabella, what do you mean? A plot ?" " A plot — but a common and transparent one, which might entrap an artless village-maid ; but I have known too many sisters having fallen into the wiles and snares of these pests that hang about music-halls with broughams, to be caught by Captain Baxter and his nice little dinners at Green wich, or his flattering letters to his ' Loveliest Arabella.' You would rather see me the captain's mistress, than a poor man's wife, wouldn't you, Harry, if your income was sacri ficed by the latter circumstance ?" " No fellow likes to lose a comfortable income," her bro ther replied, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. " And as for poverty, I have a perfect horror of it !

But why have you been so sly about your matrimonial intention s?" " Love is always sly and shy before it culminates into an engagement with the contracting parties. But in truth, Harry, I knew that my marriage would so seriously affect your prospects, that I could not bear to tell you until the last moment." " And is it still a secret on whom your choice has fallen, Arabella ?,r " One you know well." Harry began to think, and then he mentioned the name of the favourite tenor. " No, thank you. Having done with music-hall life, I am not going to marry a music-hall singer." " I know that you have had so many lovers and admirers that it would be vain for me to attempt making a selection of the right man from the throng, except it be that young gentleman who sends you flowers and a piece of poetry every day in the week, and who is so explosive with applause for you that the chairman always has to call him to order, and who invests largely in tickets on your benefit nights ?"

" Mr. Mountcharles. Oh, dear no, it is not him," she said, with a smile of contempt. " I'll guess no more. Who is it ?" " Horace Kingsley." " A lawyer's clerk ! Oh, you fool ! To sacrifice a lucrative profession to marry a lawyer's clerk !" And he burst into a fit of sneering laughter, stretching out his legs, and placing his hand on his brow. " That is not true. I resign my profession because it is immoral. That's the word, Harry, curl your lip as you will. As to my intended, whom I marry for the sterling excellen cies of his character, why, if he is too poor to keep me, I must do something to help. At present he has the manage ment of the common-law practice with a highly respectable firm at a salary of five pounds a week." " What's that ?" " Enough for all the honest purposes of life, and more than you ever earned, or ever will."

" Insult is no argument," said Harry, frowningly. " You cannot believe that I had any intention to insult you ? Judge of your sister's love for you from her past practice towards you, Harry. Without a murmur or a grudge you have had the control of my earnings, and have left me poor indeed." " My pockets are as empty as your own," replied her brother, in doleful cadence. " And I'm in debt, too. Proof sufficient, I think, that /have not had the money. Your theatrical wardrobe has absorbed a good share of your earnings. You know you would have the best of everything." " I always hated sham, didn't I, Harry?" said his sister, speaking with much self-satisfaction. " That's all very well, but let me say that the real thing is an expensive article. No cotton-velvet for you — no paste jewellery — no common feathers — " " I should think not, indeed," interrupted Arabella.

" And your private wardrobe was quite in keeping with your professional one. Why there wasn't a better dressed woman than you that ever went " walking in the Zoo," or attended a promenade concert at the Crystal Palace. You dressed so fashionably and expensively that you were posi tively talked about." " Older and wiser now, Harry." " Older, no doubt, but I suspect the wisdom. You spoke about your character-dresses — please to remember that it was Horace Kingsley, your intended husband, who presented you with the tunic—" " You need not remind me ; I know it was. Sneer as you will, but let me tell you that I and Horace are now of the same opinion regarding music-halls." " Sudden conversions !" " Not on my part, Harry. I have long abominated them, and have at last determined to leave them. But for you, who have always been a great anxiety to me — " " Well I'm sure !" exclaimed her brother, turning round and round a brilliant on his finger, while he gallingly felt that his sister's reference to his helpless dependence on her was unpleasantly true.

" You are making me out a nice over grown baby ! Let me tell you, Arabella, that I shall be able to get my bread and butter without you." " Oh, I'm so glad to hear it." " Why of course ! The head that led you to fame and fortune, ought to be able to do something for itself. I have some excellent plans that are sure to turn to account when the ball is put in motion." " Harry, you are a great talker, a great thinker, and a ter rible do-nothing." " That is a gratuitous insult !" cried Harry, with passion kindling in his eye. Arabella, who knew her brother better than he knew himself, saw that she had hurt his feelings, and in the kindliest tones said — " I would not offend you for the world, Harry. Is there anything that I can do for you while I am free from mar riage bonds ?" " Bonds, too, you'll find them — mark me," said her gruff brother, who began to see that he could prey no longer on his sister, and that the novel position that her senseless marriage would force upon him, that of providing for himself, was very alarming.

" But I have had no chance — " " A convenient peg to hang our imperfections on. But come, Harry, if you had a chance, what would you do with it ? Marry Polly Blake, and live on your wife's earnings ?" " Your head is full of marriage. Decidedly no, to your ridiculous question. If I had the money I should take the Three Black Crows." " What ! a public-house, Harry ?" " That's my pick. The best thing out, and I'm just the breed for it." " To be sure, it is a trade with a good deal of idleness in it." " Very severe," said her brother, with offended mien, taking a pace or two round the apartment, and then suddenly stopping, passionately added, " I would rather be a beg gar and starve than be talked to thus by you. You may be down in the mouth yet, but I hope you may have no one to reproach you, as you are now reproaching me.