A Self-Worshipper: a story for women

Front matter

A SELF-WORSHIPPER. All Rights Reserved A 5ELF-W0R5HIPPER a Stovg tor THHomen •BY NAOMI EDWARDS BRISTOL J. W. Arrowsmith, ii Quay Street LONDON Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent and Company Limited to me As I walked by myself, I talked to myself, And that selfsame self said "Beware of thyself, Take care of thyself, For nobody cares for thee." Then I answered myself, And said to myself, In the self-same repartee : " Care of thyself, Or not care of thyself The self-same thing will be."

Preface

. BY HER MOTHER. In putting this first effort of my small daughter, aged sixteen, before the public, I feel that some apology, or explanation, is due to any reader who, mistaking it for a matured work, takes it in hand to read. As a matured work, it were indeed " mother's vanity " to publish it. But as the first effort of a child not yet out of the schoolroom, it may possess some interest for such readers (women, of course) who take delight in the early efforts of the young mind. Judged in this way, I make no apology for the work. It is incomplete, unfinished, and, in many parts, ignorant ; but as the work of a child (it was begun and half-finished at fifteen) it is certainly a thing of promise, and, as such, a thing of interest. A Bennett-Edwards. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I. THE RALFFS . . . . . . .II II.

THE WILLOWS ...... 23 III, THE RALFFS RETURN TO INDIA . . . 31 iv. rhoda's childhood ..... 42 V. DORA 47 VI. THE END OF RHODA'S FREEDOM ... 65 VII. DORA AND DEATH ...... 76 VIII. RHODA RALFF, MARTYR ..... 87 IX. DORA AND TEVING TO THE RESCUE . . 99 HERE ENDETH RHODA'S CHILDHOOD Il6 X. XI. TEVING HAS ENOUGH OF RHODA . . . I36 XII. SISTERS ....... I47 XIII. HOW THEY PARTED ..... l6l XIV. RHODA OUT OF SIGHT ..... 167 XV. PAST AND PRESENT . . . . 1 75 XVI. I COME HOME ...... 187 XVII. ALL ENDS IN DEATH 199

Epilogue

— THE WOMAN WHO HAD NO HEART

Chapter I. The Ralffs

RHODA RALFF had to be brought to England when she was five years old. Her father belonged to an Indian regiment, and was of very little importance in anybody's opinion except that of his eldest daughter, Dora. She was ten years old at the beginning of this story, and had somehow managed to survive the Indian climate. Mrs. Ralff was, in her own opinion — and, she believed, in the opinion of all right-minded people — the most important being in the universe. She was a good-looking woman, and thought herself beautiful. She had a small fortune, which was her own, not her husband's, and she never let him forget that fact. Not that she was stingy, far from it ; but she always reminded him how kind she was. " I need not pay u this or give you that unless I like, you know, Robert," she would say, on every possible occasion ; " but what is mine is yours, although you are so ungrateful."

Captain Ralff was then expected to say some thing complimentary, and if he failed to do so Mrs. Ralff would tell him all she had ever done for him, from the time they first met till now, when they had been married eleven years. " And what is my reward ? Nothing ! " she would end up — " not even your love." By the time she had reached this point she was ready to burst into tears. For some years after their marriage Robert would rebuke himself bitterly for his ingratitude towards his fair young wife, who had given him everything, except his pay. She was very eloquent, and reproached him with a great many things which all appeared very true. He would leave her presence (as soon as he could get away), feeling a brute. Yet, when he came to think it over, he could not remember ever having done or said an unkind thing to her.

He could not make it out : they did not understand one another. "No good worrying about it," he would say to himself, "it always makes me unhappy. I don't believe I am any worse than other fellows, but she expects too much." Mrs. Ralff was very unhappy just now, because the doctors had told her that her favourite child, Rhoda, would die if she remained in India. The lady did not find this half so amusing as the enter taining little griefs that were always at hand, ready for her to pick up whenever she felt dull. The only relation in England who might be induced to take the child was a rich cousin of Captain Ralff. She was a widow with a large family. Robert had not seen her since they were children together ; but from all he had heard, or could remember, she was kind and generous. When he first made the suggestion to send the child to England to this cousin, Mrs. Ralff tossed her head in the air.

"Do you imagine, Robert," said she, "that I could allow my child to be dependent on your cousin's charity ? " "Well," her husband answered, "if you are willing to pay for Rhoda, so much the better ; for in that case there will be no difficulty in finding somebody to take care of her." " Do you think I would leave my child in the hands of strangers ? " she cried indignantly. " I don't suppose you would, if it were not absolutely necessary ; but if cousin Alice won't take her, we shall have to leave her with a stranger. As to your not liking to be dependent on other people's charity — why, as I said before, you can pay Alice just as well as a stranger." " You know I can't afford it, our home expenses are so heavy ; moreover, I would not think of sending her to a woman who, calling herself your friend and knowing we have no money to spare, would yet expect payment for taking care of your child."

" I think we may consider ourselves lucky if she consents to take her at any price," said Robert, impatiently ; " the chances are she won't." " What ! Not take my daughter, when she knows she will die if she stays here — when she knows that we have no other friends or relations in England ! She who pretends to have been so devoted to you when you were a child ! But I remember now. Yes, you have often told me, that those people are not even Christians. They never go to church, and I daresay not one of the children has been baptised. Our daughter would grow up a heathen, Robert." " Then I may conclude that you will not send Rhoda to my cousin, even if you get the chance ? " " I never said anything of the sort ; I only think she must be a brute if she has not charity enough to save a friend's child from death."

Captain Ralff thought it best to put an end to the conversation. "Well, I think, Amy dear," he said sweetly, "you might as well write to Alice and see what she has to say about it." " Write to her ! " Mrs. Ralff was determined to quarrel. " Why should I write to her ? I have never seen the woman, and never want to. You can write yourself; she is your cousin, not mine." " Oh, very well ! If you like to see your child die before your eyes rather than take the trouble to write a letter, it is nothing to me." " Nothing to you, you heartless creature, if your child dies and your wife goes mad with grief! Nothing to you ! Oh, it would be a very different story if it were your beloved Dora, — a naughty, dis obedient child, without an ounce of affection in her cold heart! You teach her to hate me, I know; and you are glad that Rhoda is going to be separated from me, because you have not yet been able to poison her heart against her mother.

You will be glad if she does die. Yes, you said so " "Hush! hush, Amy!" her husband interrupted. " I did not mean that ; and I want you to write, because you can pen such nice letters — you can put things more prettily than I could. Alice will be far more likely to pay attention to a letter from you than from me." " So, even you have to confess that I can do some thing nicely. Are you sure I am not too stupid to write at all?" " Quite sure, my dear. And there are a great many things which you can do ever so much better than I can. If you set to work at once, you will just catch the next mail." Captain Ralff kissed his wife, which, with the help of that little compliment about her letters, quite pacified her. He went away, and Mrs. Ralff sat down to write. Dear Mrs. Willow, — May I say cousin Alice ?

Mrs. Willow is a strange name to me ; but cousin Alice is familiar, for my dear husband is always speaking of you. How often he tells me of your sweet home, where he passed his happy youth, — an orphan, but never feeling the want of a mother, sister, or friend ; for you were all of these to him. How often he says; "Amy, I must write to Alice, she will think me so ungrateful ;" and I answer, "Yes, dear, when you have a moment to spare ;" but that moment never comes, for he is at work night and day. How glad I shall be when he gets his long leave, for then, only think ! — we are coming to England ! For the last three years we have been saving up for this, and now, how happy we might be — might have been, I should say, for alas ! we are not. Think of it, Alice ! My Rhoda, my youngest daughter — the best, the prettiest child in the world — she whom I love more than all the rest put together — she is ill !

The doctors tell me another year here will kill her. She will come with us to England, and — oh, the thought of it drives me to distraction ! — I must not bring her back to the hot climate again. Alice, pity a poor mother ! It is with difficulty that I have overcome my pride sufficiently to ask this favour from you ; but — will you shelter my child ? Will you give her a home until she is old enough to face the world for herself? To part with my darling at all will break my heart ; but how much lighter that parting will be if I know I am leaving her in the hands of kind friends. You are a mother, too. Think what agony it must be to see one's child wasting before one's eyes. I would leave even my dear, dear husband himself and come home to take care of her, but he reproaches me bitterly if I suggest such a thing. [Mrs. Ralff was so sure of this, that she did not hurt his feelings by mentioning it.]

Therefore, cousin Alice, I write in his name, and beg you to take compassion on your faithful Robert's poor little daughter. God bless you for all your kindness to him in former days ! Your affectionate Cousin, Amy Ralff. Mrs. Ralff put a photograph of her husband in with the letter. Having despatched this, she settled down to a very usual occupation of hers, namely, to mourn what a virtuous but unfortunate woman she was. " Oh, why," she sighed, " did I leave the rich and happy home where I passed my childhood, for the sake of a man who neglects me ? What sacri fices I made for him ! I gave him everything — myself and my fortune ; but is he grateful ? No. To-day, again, he showed his selfishness. Knowing how the grief of parting with my child is eating my heart out — knowing how it pains me to think or speak of it — knowing my proud spirit, and what an humiliation it is for me to beg a stranger to support her, he would not even spare me the pain of writing to his cousin.

I shall be blamed if Mrs. Willow refuses to take her. I shall receive a cruel, perhaps insolent, letter. And he does not care — he said so himself. I can look for no sympathy from him. Yet I do everything for him ; I give way to him in everything. I am too unselfish to get on in this world." Just then the ayah came with Rhoda, and inquired if Madam Sahib would like to have the child. Mrs. Ralff took the little one in her arms, and half smothered her with kisses. Rhoda did not enjoy the tender maternal embrace, and wriggled a little ; but she was a good child, and used to her mother's demonstrations of affection. Mrs. Ralff loved her, because she was very obedient. If the lady said, " Rhoda, come and kiss me," Rhod^ did so at once ; but if she had been told to kiss the dog she would have done it just as willingly, and enjoyed it much better.

Mrs. Ralff, however, believed that she held the first place in the child's affections, and as long as she thought that she was satisfied. With Dora it was very different. Dora had a very decided character. She knew and said what she liked, and what she disliked. Her mother was very jealous when she first began to show her decided preference for the father. Jealousy turned to dislike, and the dislike soon became mutual. Dora had an unpleasant way, too, of speaking the truth to people's faces ; and although Mrs. Ralff never acknowledged un pleasant truths, it did not make them any the less unpleasant. When she had done torturing her child with kisses, she turned^to the ayah : " No, no, much as I should like to have my darling with me, the doctor tells me she must be out of doors whenever that is possible.

Besides, I must accustom myself to not having her. Rhoda," she went on, solemnly, turning to the child, "you will soon see your poor mother no more, but you won't forget me, will you, my own love ? " and she threw herself back on her couch, with a heavy sigh. The ayah took the child away; and Dora, who had been present at this little scene, thought to herself, " Why doesn't she come out with us if she wants to be with Rhoda, and Rhoda must go out ? " Why, indeed ! Was it because Mrs. Ralff preferred to be sobbing on her sofa, thinking over the sad parting with her daughter ? She sincerely believed herself devoted to her children ; she imagined that Rhoda was always in her thoughts. So she was, but only as the cause of her own sorrow. Mrs. Ralff was an extremely good-looking woman, who could be very sweet when she liked.

With her good looks and small fortune to back her, she might several times have made very good matches. She had refused five offers ; it would be hard to say why. When her father pressed her not to lose such oppor tunities as were not likely to present themselves again, she answered: " I cannot marry without love. Other girls do, I know ; but I am different." She was pleased, however, to see men worshipping at her shrine, and in her heart of hearts she thought it only natural that they should do so. For where in the wide world was such another girl to be found ? — one so good, so beautiful, and so true. " Men," she would say, before she met Robert — " men are all so wicked, so selfish, I could never love a man ; but if God were to send an angel for me to love, how happy we should be together !

I would disclose to him the depth of my heart, which com mon men could never appreciate. I am sorry for them, poor things ! It pains me to crush their hopes, and I fear I have ruined many of their lives." Very seriously she would kneel and pray to God to help them in their troubles. No voice ever answered, saying : " Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is thine own eye ? " The day came, however, when she met Robert Ralff, and somehow, although he was not an angel, and quite unworthy of her (had she been what she thought herself), she fell in love with him. Not very long after their marriage she began to think it had been a great mistake, and that her first idea was right. She was too good to be the wife of a common man. Poor Robert, for his part, soon found out how selfish his wife was.

She expected him always to be with her, always to think of her. Wherever he went, she must go too. He must not look at any body else. He must have no friends, male or female. There were a few of her own particular set with whom he might speak occasionally, but even then he was questioned as to what he said and did. As long as he submitted to all this, she was the most charming of women ; but after a time he began to get rebellious, and then . . . Then there were scenes. She scolded and wept, and so thoroughly deceived herself into believing that she was an ill used woman, that he had to believe it too. Then, with some difficulty, he would try and comfort her ; and she always let him know how good it was of her to forgive him ! He was to live for her alone. She would have liked to have buried all the rest of the world.

He might not even read in peace. All the while, she believed herself the most unselfish of women. She argued that she was only too glad never to leave his side ; why should not he feel the same to her ? If he was not happy, it was only because he did not love her enough. " That is it," she thought, " I love him too much. I love with a love that is more than love. I never get tired of his society; I never want to go out and see other people. He does not know what true love is." It never struck her that it might be her own fault if he did not love her, or that she would soon cease to love her husband were he as unpleasant to her as she was to him. Would she have liked to have all her friends abused, as she abused all his ? Would she have never wanted to go out if, at home, her husband was always grumbling about everything, and finding fault with everything?

But such questions never entered her head. It was natural enough that this couple did not live happily together, although Captain Ralff was a most good-natured man, and might have made a reasonable woman very happy. As things were, he avoided his wife as much as possible, and made a great companion of his daughter Dora. Mrs. Ralff might perhaps have been all right had she been the wife of a strong-minded authoritative man, who would have taken the upper hand and made her put an end to her silly complaints ; one who would have shown her she was nobody. But Captain Ralff was not strong-minded ; he could not be her master, and he would not submit to being her slave. So she spent a miserable existence, brooding over her imaginary wrongs ; wrongs which she never attempted to put right, but only made matters worse by reproaching her husband for what she called his heartlessness.

Perhaps she could not help her selfishness, she was so entirely unaware of it, truly believing that she was as near perfection as mortals can be. Nothing ever came to shake that profound self reverence. She never did anything very wrong, so her idol was never shattered. She never had to look at herself with horror and say, " This is what I am ; this is my work." So she continued to worship herself, — too good to be bad, too selfish to be good.

Chapter II. The Willows

THE lady who received Mrs. Ralff's letter was a widow with a family of three. She had been very fond of little Robin, as she called Robert Ralff, when, some thirty years ago, he was left an orphan, and came to live with her. She was some years older than he, and had no sisters or brothers of her own ; so she was rather inclined to spoil the boy, more than was good for him. Even after all those years she had not forgotten her pet, although she had not seen him since he left college, and his letters were few and far between. She knew he was married, but was not aware that he had any children. On receiving Mrs. Ralff's letter, her first remark was: " Too lazy to write himself, I suppose. Just like that boy, he never would do anything, when he could get anybody else to do it for him." Then: "Well, I shall be glad to see his dear old face again.

I wonder how long they will be able to stay here, and what sort of a woman his wife is. He is sure not to be nice now he is married, men never are. Very uninteresting creatures, married people." Mrs. Willow, however, wrote a kind letter to the uninteresting creatures, inviting them to come -3 and stay with her when they were in England, and saying she would settle about the child later. At lunch she informed the assembled family that she had had a letter from her old charge, Robert Ralff's wife, and that they were bringing their family to England for some months, part of which time, at least, they would spend at Walcote. " Awfully good of him to put himself out so, to pay us a visit. Save such a lot in hotel bills, won't it ? Why don't you say you are taking your family to India for a little change, and will spend a year or two with them?"

I, Cecil Willow, the writer of this history, remarked sarcastically. "Now you be quiet, Cecil," my mother retorted: " if you make faces about Robert's asking if he may come and stay with me — though, considering we have always been brother and sister to one another, it is natural that he should — what will you say when I tell you that his wife begs me, in this letter, to take care of their youngest child for them, because it can't stand the Indian climate ! She writes a nice letter though ; says she knows she is asking a great favour, and that it was all she could do to ' put her pride in her pocket ' for the sake of her child." " I suppose she does not offer to pay for it all the same ? " I said. " Well, no, I can't say she does ; but of course, if I take the child, I shall not expect that."

" You do mean to take it then ? " asked my sister Rachel, a girl of about fifteen. " Yes, I suppose I must ; they have no other relations in England, and the child is quite young, only five, so they can't very well send her to school."' " It is a girl, then ; what is her name ? " " Rhoda ; I wish it had been a boy, it would have been a companion for Roland." Thus my family continued to discuss the subject, at our quiet mid-day dinner. One more letter came from Captain Ralff, written by himself this time, thanking his cousin, for her kind invitation, and telling her when they expected to arrive in England. I will now make you acquainted with my family. My mother, Mrs. Willow, was rich, and this was her greatest virtue in the eyes of her neighbours ; good conventional people mostly, whilst my mother was sadly eccentric.

She was useful t though, at heading subscriptions and providing money for other people's charities ! There was only one thing to which she could never be persuaded to subscribe, and that was the church'; and were it falling to rack and ruin, she would not have raised a halfpenny to repair it. Why should a lot of money, that might do many people so much good, be spent on a building that was not even inhabited ? she argued. Now if they would only make some use of a church, give concerts or lectures in it, and not talk so much about desecration, she would be only too willing to pay for improvements : those would give people pleasure ; but as it was, she thought a great deal too much money and labour was wasted on churches, which remained absolutely useless during six days out of seven. My mother was devoted to her children, and brought them up on a system of allowing them to do whatever they liked, as long as they did not annoy other people.

She taught us no religion, and herself believed in nothing, except what she called " The religion of humanity," which consisted in doing good, for the benefit of man, and not for fear of God or devil. She despised those who only thought of saving their own souls. She turned away in disgust from the unjust, revengeful, Church God, who is represented as being crueller, more unmerciful, than the very men who worship Him. She would believe in a perfect God, or in no God. But how could a perfect God make such bad men ? she said. If He is all-powerful, evil must come from Him as well as good. If, on the other hand, there is also a devil, God is less powerful than the devil, and cannot destroy him. In the latter case, what right has He to create immortal beings, when He knows half of them will be condemned to eternal hell ?

So my mother had come to the con clusion that there was no God, no devil, and that all would end with death. The Ralffs, in India, had been watching im patiently for mother's answer to their letter. When it came Mrs. Ralff professed to find it cold and uncharitable, the sort of thing one might expect from a woman who was " not even a Christian." Robert, however, was satisfied. He knew his cousin to be kind-hearted and generous, and he felt quite sure that, once at Walcote, they would soon per suade her to take charge of the child Rhoda. So, a month later the whole family set sail. Mrs. Ralff very sick, very much to be pitied, and quite convinced she was dying ; Captain Ralff doing his best to avoid all possible scenes. Dora was gay and happy, good friends with everybody on board except her mother; and last, but not least, Rhoda, continu ally being kissed and wept over ; carefully taught to say her prayers, and also " I love Mamma, better than anybody else in all the world."

Thus one day they arrived at Walcote. My mother's first impression of them all was much as follows : Robert, the same happy-go-lucky old boy he had always been. Amy, a rather melancholy, but most agreeable, woman ; absolutely devoted to her husband, and not quite as well treated by him as such love deserved. Dora, a clever child, but rather too forward. Rhoda, a good natured little fatty. Captain Ralff soon persuaded his cousin to under take the charge of the child, for a few years at least. He was very happy, and felt quite like a boy again, in his old home. I, although many years younger than he, made great friends with him during that short visit (the only time we met), and gained what knowledge a boy can gain of a man's character. Dora was friends with everybody who liked her father ; so we, she and I, spent many happy hours together.

Mother took a decided fancy to Mrs. Ralff; partly because she was good-looking, partly because she did not seem happy. She set to work to cheer her up, and made herself very pleasant, so that Mrs. Ralff might not brood too much over the approaching parting with Rhoda. A little flattery soon won Mrs. Ralff's heart, and she quickly poured out all her woes to mother, with such eloquence that she too, at last, became con vinced of Robert's heartlessness, and thought it her duty to give him a long lecture about his neglect of his poor wife ! He tried to defend himself, but he would not say a word against his wife, although she had said so much against him that he found it impossible to justify himself before his cousin. So a breach was made between them, and Robert had to retire to his constant companion, Dora.