CHAPTERLXXVII.THE DESIGNING WOMAN AND HER VICTIM.We now enter upon a fearful study. It is that of a heart which, though young, is seared, withered, and depraved, and which can no longer throb for aught that is good or noble.It is that of a mind which is strong to resolve, patient to wait, relentless to execute. It is that of a woman who possesses the face of an angel, and the furious passions of a demon.Laura Stanbridge had once in her life become human. She had loved. She had loved the boy Alf Purvis with as intense and fiery a passion as an Eastern queen.She had offered this man her love, which was as lurid as her rage; he had refused it, and in refusing it he had told her the terrible secret of her own life. By some means he had discovered the crimes of her girlhood—adultery, theft, murder. For this she hated him, and with no common hate—for this she determined to be avenged, and with no common vengeance.Retiring into the depths of her black heart she pondered over various schemes for inflicting a terrible vengeance upon the man who taunted her, insulted her, and refused her love.Little did Alf Purvis suppose that he had such a bitter, relentless enemy to deal with. He paid her but little attention, was away for days and even weeks at a time. She was too proud to condescend to inquire about his movements, and affected an air of indifference about all and everything concerning him.They had been partners in crime—now they were working out their own ends separately and apart. Indeed it is surprising that the young pickpocket had not taken himself off altogether; only there was this to be said: with all his assumed bravado he stood in fear of Laura Stanbridge, who was more than a match for him as far as cunning and duplicity were concerned.But a new actor is about to appear in this part of the drama—one, however, who is already well known to the reader.One evening, when a grand concert was given atSt.James’s Hall, Laura Stanbridge sallied forth, paid the price of admission, and entered the Hall. Every seat was occupied. She found out that she was a little too late to obtain a place—so she stood and listened to the music.A young man who sat close to where she was standing rose from his seat, which he begged her to occupy. She was thickly veiled at this time, but her eyes gleamed through the veil.Raising it, she disclosed a face which was pale, chaste, and beautiful as that of a Madonna.“I cannot think of turning you out of your seat, sir,” she said, in a voice of ineffable sweetness.“Nay,” returned the other, “I must beg of you to be seated. I can do very well here. Do, pray, take the place.”She smiled sweetly, and sat down.The performance proceeded.He noticed that she was expensively dressed, and presented altogether a most aristocratic appearance.He stood by her side and conversed with her upon the quality of the music and the executants of the same.He was greatly pleased with her society, and when the concert came to an end offered to escort her out of the hall.She fixed her eyes on him. As he glanced at those eyes, so full of languor and love, he started and blushed.She did not blush, but she looked modestly on the ground.They passed out of the hall together, and descended the staircase, and reached the Piccadilly entrance.He asked her if he might have the pleasure of putting her into a cab or seeing her home.She answered him in a confused tone—“But I do not know you, sir,” she said, gently.“That is true,” he answered, with a sigh.“Still I must admit that I am very pleased to have met you, and at the same time have to thank you for your kindness.”They were in Piccadilly at this time.“Perhaps you wish me to leave you,” he murmured.“No, I do not say that.”“Have you far to go?”“Not very far—hardly a quarter of a mile.”He reflected for a few moments, and then said—“I should like to prevail upon you to take some refreshment if it be only a glass of wine and a biscuit.”“Certainly; I accept your kind offer.”They went into the nearest confectioner’s, and had some refreshment.The young man gazed abstractedly around the place, and then sighed.“I think you must have heard some bad news,” said she, munching a sponge cake.“What makes you think that?”“You are sad and preoccupied.”“No, no, my dear lady. To say the truth, I am no sadder than I have been for a long time past.”“Ah! something troubles you—I feel certain of that. I am afraid you are in love.”He started.“Oh! dear me, no such thing,” he exclaimed, vehemently.“Pardon me, I know I must appear very rude. Let us go.”She rose, went out into the street, and he followed.“You do not need me to tell you that sorrow is robbed of half its bitterness if we have any one to share it with us,” said Laura.“Indeed, that is very true,” he murmured.“But we can’t discuss topics of this nature in the public street,” she added.“Ah, I forgot. May I see you home?”“If you like.”They walked on together till the house in the occupation of Miss Stanbridge was reached. She paused in front of this, and said, “Now, my friend, we must part.”“You reside here?” said he.“Precisely; your surmise is correct. The hour is late, and I dare not ask you in, but——” here she bent her eyes on the ground.“But what?” He was going to say dearest, but luckily he checked himself.“Well I don’t interdict your giving me a morning call when passing this way.”“And your name? You forget, my dear madame, that you have not as yet favoured me with your name.”“Neither have you, sir, favoured me with yours,” she returned, handing him her card.He gave her his in return, bade her good night, raised his hat, and went his way.“Gatliffe—Gatliffe,” she ejaculated, when she had reached her parlour and glanced at the card; “surely I have heard that name on somebody’s lips before now. Umph, I think I have played my part pretty well. I shall have the extreme pleasure of seeing the gentleman again. I wonder who and what he is. We shall see.”Miss Stanbridge retired to rest, well satisfied with the evening’s adventure.Between eleven and twelve o’clock on the following morning the maid came into the parlour, and gave her mistress a card.On it was “Mr. Thomas Gatliffe.”“Show the gentleman in,” said Miss Stanbridge. “’Gad, he’s not lost much time,” she murmured, when the girl had left.“As I happened to be passing this way,” said Gatliffe, as he entered, “I thought I would take the liberty of giving you a call to inquire how you are after last night’s fatigue.”“You are very kind, I’m sure,” returned Laura, handing her visitor a chair; “and I need not add that I am pleased to see you, as it gives me assurance that I am not forgotten.”Gatliffe’s manner was a little constrained—to say the truth, he was not altogether at ease.In the first place he was surprised to find the lady the only occupant of the room when he entered.He had expected to see some of her relatives present. He did not know the character or the ways of the alluring creature whom he had imprudently chosen to visit.He was miserably dull and wretched in his lonely home at Wood-green, and it is therefore not surprising that he should be glad of almost any change to break the painful monotony of his existence.“Now tell me,” observed Laura, in a playful sportive manner, “what do you think of your newly-formed acquaintance by the morning’s light?”Gatliffe looked confused, and did not very well know what answer to make.“I think you look remarkably well,” he muttered, “and only wish I looked half as well.”“Oh! you flatterer. But come, let me beg of you to have a glass of wine.”“Thank you, I had rather not.”“Nay, but you must.”“I’m a business man, and have much to attend to, and therefore seldom take anything in the morning.”“A little brandy and seltzer won’t hurt you. Bah! don’t make a wry face—you are strong as a young Hercules.”“Am I? I dont feel so,” returned Gatliffe, with a smile.He, however, consented to quaff the contents of the proffered glass.“I dare say you think me a singular sort of person,” remarked his companion; “and, to say the truth, I believe I am.”“I have never said so.”“Possibly not; but you have thought so, doubtless. Our acquaintance has been made in a casual accidental manner; but it sometimes happens, you know, that acquaintances of this sort ripen into a lasting friendship. I hope it may prove so in this case. At present we know but little of each other.”“Yes, at present.”“But there is no reason this should always be so. You are in business?”“Yes, foreman to a large engineering firm.”“And are single, I presume?”“For the present, but——”He hesitated.“Enough, I do not seek to pry into your secrets. You are very good and kind—of that I am perfectly well assured; and that is quite enough for the present.”Gatliffe thought her manner was very charming and ingenuous, but he was at a loss to know whether she was mistress of the establishment or not, and he was too diffident to make any inquiry.“I must take my leave now,” he ejaculated.“What! going so soon? Dear me, yours is a short visit.”“You see, my time is not my own, and when I tell you that, I am sure you’ll excuse me.”“Oh, certainly. But I suppose I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again.”“Yes, on the very first opportunity.”“Then I will not attempt to detain you, Mr. Gatliffe,” said she, rising and offering her hand to her visitor.“He’s by no means forward or fast,” she murmured, when he had gone.“He wants bringing out. I shall work him all right enough. He’s a bit smitten, that is very clear. I wonder whether he has a wife. I rather fancy he has. It is most fortunate that Alf is away in the country with his select companions. I shall have to deal with that fellow in a way he little expects, but for the present I have enough on hand.”She dressed herself in fashionable garments, and sallied forth.She paid a visit to several places of public resort, and amused herself for that day.She expected to see Gatliffe on the succeeding one, but he did not make his appearance.Three days elapsed. On the fourth he paid her another visit.He was reserved and thoughtful, as on the previous occasion.She told him that she had two tickets for the opera stalls, and asked him if he would like to make use of one—they were numbered seats, of course, and he might please himself about coming—any time would do, she herself would make use of the other.He took the ticket, and promised to be there as early as circumstances would permit; then he left the same as before.“He wants a mighty deal of humouring, and is evidently shy. No matter for that, I shall find means to banish his shyness. Good—doubtless he will be there; anyway I shall.”She made a most elaborate toilette, with bare arms, a low-necked dress, together with all the devices which the ladies of the upper ten have recourse to when paying a visit to the opera in the full height of the season.It is needless to say that Miss Stanbridge looked extremely lovely. Art had done something towards improving her personal appearance.When her toilette was complete she desired her maid to go for a four-wheeler, in which she was conveyed to the opera-house. Upon taking her seat she found the adjacent one unoccupied. Tom Gatliffe had therefore not yet arrived.Possibly he might think better of it, and not put in an appearance—there was no telling. However, she made up her mind to assume an air of cheerfulness and wait patiently.He did not arrive till after the overture had been played, and the curtain drawn up. Upon presenting himself he was full of apologies for being so behind hand, saying that he had been unavoidably detained at the works.Laura Stanbridge pouted a little, but accepted his apologies with grace and good humour.At the close of the first act an animated and pleasant conversation was carried on between the two—the same formula took place during the succeeding intervals in the performance. The gentleman ordered ices and other refreshments for the lady.When the opera was over, Laura Stanbridge passed out of the stalls with her friend.“I must get you to fetch a cab, dear,” said she, “for I have come in my opera cloak just as you see me.”“Certainly, by all means,” returned Gatliffe. “You wait here. I won’t be more than a few seconds.”He returned, conducted her into the cab, and got into the vehicle himself.He sat by her side, a little reserved perhaps, but in far better spirits than she had ever seen him.When they arrived home the supper things had been laid, and the table “groaned,” to make use of a hackneyed phrase, with the best of everything it was possible to procure.Gatliffe looked surprised.“You are going to have some supper with me, of course?” suggested Laura.“Umph, oh, yes,” he replied in a half hesitating manner.Miss Stanbridge cast aside her opera cloak and stood before the young man in a costume of the most faultless description.Her arms and the upper portion of her bust were bare, and Gatliffe was taken completely aback at the elegance of her attire and the beauty of her form.He, however, said nothing, but sat down to supper, the girl waiting on her mistress and her visitor.When the supper was over, and the things removed, Miss Stanbridge said to the girl—“You may go to bed, Lucy. I shall not require you any more to-night. I will see my friend out. But stay, before you retire bring in a little hot water in the kettle.”The girl did as she was required, and then took her way upstairs.At the request of Laura Stanbridge Gatliffe lighted a cigar and mixed himself some grog.An hour or more passed away.* * * * *The two companions were seated in the parlour, side by side—the hour was late, but Gatliffe still lingered.“You have told me your sorrows and troubles,” said his female companion, “and no one can sympathise with you to a greater extent than myself, for I too have been deserted by a cold, cruel, heartless man, but it is all over now and I strive to forget the past—the bitter past.”After this exordium she told her companion a specious tale, in which she made herself a most self-sacrificing creature.She wound up by declaring that she was living on her means all alone in the world.“Alone—eh?” cried Gatliffe. “Well, yes, I had a female companion, it is true, and a young man whom I have brought up, making this place his home; but he is like the rest, ungrateful and selfish.”She sighed, and drew her chair nearer to his.“Ah! if I could find but one sympathising friend,” she murmured; “for, oh! Mr. Gatliffe, we can none of us live only for ourselves. It is not in the nature and order of things—is it?”“I don’t think it is,” he murmured, glancing at her dark, dreamy, voluptuous eyes—glancing at her marble bust, which was at this time a little more revealed than it had been upon their first entrance into the parlour.“You agree with me, then?”“As far as that is concerned, I do,” he returned.“I expected you would do so, and your wife is so unmindful of this. You love her, I suppose?”The engineer made no answer to this query.“It is evident enough you do,” observed his companion.“I did. It was impossible for me to do otherwise. When I first made her acquaintance I thought her the most charming creature I had ever seen.”She placed her hand on his, and looked earnestly into his face.He grasped her hand and drew her towards him. Her head fell upon his shoulder, and he inhaled the fragrance of her breath. A tremour seemed to creep through his frame; he placed his arm round her neck, and pressed his lips to hers in one long, lingering kiss.She made no resistance.Presently she wound her arms round him and returned the embrace. She breathed into his ear words of endearment, and Gatliffe was fairly enthralled; his hand accidentally came in contact with her bosom.“You will not leave me to-night, dearest?” she murmured. “It is too late for you to think of returning home. You will not be cruel enough to leave me all alone after this brief interval of happiness?”Gatliffe was bewildered; he knew he was acting in a most indiscreet manner, but had not the courage to break the spell that bound him.The clock on the mantel-piece struck two.“Goodness me—is it so late?” he ejaculated.“It is late,” said his companion, “but what of that? The hours fly swiftly by when in the society of those we love.”“But I really must be thinking of going.”“Why so? You cannot reach Wood-green to-night, seeing that it is now morning, and what does it matter?”“Upon my word,” said he, “I have been so charmed, so pleased with your society, that it appears I have forgotten all else.”“And so you ought,” she cried, with another embrace.“Ah,” he murmured, “I am powerless in your arms, and even unable to exercise any will of my own. This ought not to be.”“Why not? I am pleased to think I have such power over you. Ah, Mr. Gatliffe, we are neither of us accountable to any one, and if—if—you find happiness in my society——” She broke off abruptly, and hid her head on his shoulder.Gatliffe, who had been quite unprepared for this display of affection, was no longer master of himself. He took her on his knee and kissed her passionately.No.41.Illust: GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.Laura Stanbridge, who had been playing her part to perfection, smiled.She had him in her toils. Of that she felt assured. Unimpressible, and in a measure phlegmatic as he had been to the allurements of a designing woman, he was now, to make use of a nautical phrase, fairly capsized.The beautiful creature in his arms affected to love him, and he, poor weak fool that he was, believed her.“Now, dearest!” he exclaimed. “Will you excuse me? May I go?”“As you please,” she answered, pouting.“It is not as I please. It is for you to determine.”“You would not think of leaving at such an hour. Are you not contented?”“Certainly, but——”“But what?”I shall compromise you by remaining.She laughed. “Ah! don’t mind me,” she cried.“But the hour—ten minutes to three.”“Well, I know that. When you desire to retire you have only to say the word. There is a bedroom already prepared for your reception. This house is my own; I am mistress here, and am a lady of independent means—what more do you desire to hear?”Gatliffe had a very natural wish to know a great deal more, but he had the prudence not to broach so delicate a question.“Oh! nothing—nothing more,” he stammered out.“Good—you are weary. I will show you to your sleeping chamber,” said his companion, lighting a wax candle, and rising from her seat.Gatliffe made no observation, but rose also.The lady led the way upstairs and conducted her visitor to an elegantly-furnished bedroom on the second story of the house.She placed the light on the toilet-table, and then turned towards the bewildered young man.“You will be able to rest tranquilly here till morning, dearest,” she murmured.Gatliffe nodded. Then he sprang forward and caught her in his arms. He pressed her form to his, and covered her with burning and passionate kisses.“Enough!” cried Laura. “Good night. Susan will be up early, and you can have breakfast at what hour you please,” and with these words she passed along the passage.Gatliffe closed the door of his bedroom, sat down in one of the chairs, and endeavoured to collect his thoughts—his head was in a perfect whirl.“She is a beautiful creature,” he murmured. “A lady of independent means! Eh! what a strange adventure! Well, I have no reason to complain.”He threw off his clothes and tumbled into bed, but he was too much disturbed in his mind to sleep. He thought over and over again of his mysterious inamorata. It would have been in vain for him to deny that he was very much taken with her.He believed that he had made a conquest, and that she had conceived an overpowering affection for him. Who and what she was he found it difficult to determine; neither did it much matter—love levels all distinctions.When he arose in the morning he went into the parlour, where the breakfast was served by the maid, who informed him that her mistress would be down in a few minutes.Presently Laura Stanbridge made her appearance. She was attired in an elegant morning costume, and seemed to be none the worse for her carouse on the preceding night. She did the honours of the table with infinite grace, and paid every possible attention to her guest.Gatliffe was charmed with her manner. He thanked her for all her kindness, and when the morning was over told her that he must leave to attend to his business at the works.She acquiesced and offered her hand. Gatliffe drew her towards him and embraced her; then he took his departure with a promise that he would pay her another visit.The more he thought over his adventure the more puzzled he was, but he could not keep long away from the woman who by this time had him enthralled.He visited her again and again until he became a regular frequenter of the establishment. He slept there two or three nights out of the week. As time went on all restraint was thrown off, and Laura Stanbridge became his mistress.Those who had known him in his earlier years would have found it difficult to believe that this could have come to pass.But so it was. He was no match in cunning and duplicity to the heartless woman who had him in her toils.When he thought of Aveline he felt abased and humiliated. He could not at first realise the depths into which he had fallen. The events of the last few weeks seemed to him more like a dream than an actual reality.
We now enter upon a fearful study. It is that of a heart which, though young, is seared, withered, and depraved, and which can no longer throb for aught that is good or noble.
It is that of a mind which is strong to resolve, patient to wait, relentless to execute. It is that of a woman who possesses the face of an angel, and the furious passions of a demon.
Laura Stanbridge had once in her life become human. She had loved. She had loved the boy Alf Purvis with as intense and fiery a passion as an Eastern queen.
She had offered this man her love, which was as lurid as her rage; he had refused it, and in refusing it he had told her the terrible secret of her own life. By some means he had discovered the crimes of her girlhood—adultery, theft, murder. For this she hated him, and with no common hate—for this she determined to be avenged, and with no common vengeance.
Retiring into the depths of her black heart she pondered over various schemes for inflicting a terrible vengeance upon the man who taunted her, insulted her, and refused her love.
Little did Alf Purvis suppose that he had such a bitter, relentless enemy to deal with. He paid her but little attention, was away for days and even weeks at a time. She was too proud to condescend to inquire about his movements, and affected an air of indifference about all and everything concerning him.
They had been partners in crime—now they were working out their own ends separately and apart. Indeed it is surprising that the young pickpocket had not taken himself off altogether; only there was this to be said: with all his assumed bravado he stood in fear of Laura Stanbridge, who was more than a match for him as far as cunning and duplicity were concerned.
But a new actor is about to appear in this part of the drama—one, however, who is already well known to the reader.
One evening, when a grand concert was given atSt.James’s Hall, Laura Stanbridge sallied forth, paid the price of admission, and entered the Hall. Every seat was occupied. She found out that she was a little too late to obtain a place—so she stood and listened to the music.
A young man who sat close to where she was standing rose from his seat, which he begged her to occupy. She was thickly veiled at this time, but her eyes gleamed through the veil.
Raising it, she disclosed a face which was pale, chaste, and beautiful as that of a Madonna.
“I cannot think of turning you out of your seat, sir,” she said, in a voice of ineffable sweetness.
“Nay,” returned the other, “I must beg of you to be seated. I can do very well here. Do, pray, take the place.”
She smiled sweetly, and sat down.
The performance proceeded.
He noticed that she was expensively dressed, and presented altogether a most aristocratic appearance.
He stood by her side and conversed with her upon the quality of the music and the executants of the same.
He was greatly pleased with her society, and when the concert came to an end offered to escort her out of the hall.
She fixed her eyes on him. As he glanced at those eyes, so full of languor and love, he started and blushed.
She did not blush, but she looked modestly on the ground.
They passed out of the hall together, and descended the staircase, and reached the Piccadilly entrance.
He asked her if he might have the pleasure of putting her into a cab or seeing her home.
She answered him in a confused tone—
“But I do not know you, sir,” she said, gently.
“That is true,” he answered, with a sigh.
“Still I must admit that I am very pleased to have met you, and at the same time have to thank you for your kindness.”
They were in Piccadilly at this time.
“Perhaps you wish me to leave you,” he murmured.
“No, I do not say that.”
“Have you far to go?”
“Not very far—hardly a quarter of a mile.”
He reflected for a few moments, and then said—
“I should like to prevail upon you to take some refreshment if it be only a glass of wine and a biscuit.”
“Certainly; I accept your kind offer.”
They went into the nearest confectioner’s, and had some refreshment.
The young man gazed abstractedly around the place, and then sighed.
“I think you must have heard some bad news,” said she, munching a sponge cake.
“What makes you think that?”
“You are sad and preoccupied.”
“No, no, my dear lady. To say the truth, I am no sadder than I have been for a long time past.”
“Ah! something troubles you—I feel certain of that. I am afraid you are in love.”
He started.
“Oh! dear me, no such thing,” he exclaimed, vehemently.
“Pardon me, I know I must appear very rude. Let us go.”
She rose, went out into the street, and he followed.
“You do not need me to tell you that sorrow is robbed of half its bitterness if we have any one to share it with us,” said Laura.
“Indeed, that is very true,” he murmured.
“But we can’t discuss topics of this nature in the public street,” she added.
“Ah, I forgot. May I see you home?”
“If you like.”
They walked on together till the house in the occupation of Miss Stanbridge was reached. She paused in front of this, and said, “Now, my friend, we must part.”
“You reside here?” said he.
“Precisely; your surmise is correct. The hour is late, and I dare not ask you in, but——” here she bent her eyes on the ground.
“But what?” He was going to say dearest, but luckily he checked himself.
“Well I don’t interdict your giving me a morning call when passing this way.”
“And your name? You forget, my dear madame, that you have not as yet favoured me with your name.”
“Neither have you, sir, favoured me with yours,” she returned, handing him her card.
He gave her his in return, bade her good night, raised his hat, and went his way.
“Gatliffe—Gatliffe,” she ejaculated, when she had reached her parlour and glanced at the card; “surely I have heard that name on somebody’s lips before now. Umph, I think I have played my part pretty well. I shall have the extreme pleasure of seeing the gentleman again. I wonder who and what he is. We shall see.”
Miss Stanbridge retired to rest, well satisfied with the evening’s adventure.
Between eleven and twelve o’clock on the following morning the maid came into the parlour, and gave her mistress a card.
On it was “Mr. Thomas Gatliffe.”
“Show the gentleman in,” said Miss Stanbridge. “’Gad, he’s not lost much time,” she murmured, when the girl had left.
“As I happened to be passing this way,” said Gatliffe, as he entered, “I thought I would take the liberty of giving you a call to inquire how you are after last night’s fatigue.”
“You are very kind, I’m sure,” returned Laura, handing her visitor a chair; “and I need not add that I am pleased to see you, as it gives me assurance that I am not forgotten.”
Gatliffe’s manner was a little constrained—to say the truth, he was not altogether at ease.
In the first place he was surprised to find the lady the only occupant of the room when he entered.
He had expected to see some of her relatives present. He did not know the character or the ways of the alluring creature whom he had imprudently chosen to visit.
He was miserably dull and wretched in his lonely home at Wood-green, and it is therefore not surprising that he should be glad of almost any change to break the painful monotony of his existence.
“Now tell me,” observed Laura, in a playful sportive manner, “what do you think of your newly-formed acquaintance by the morning’s light?”
Gatliffe looked confused, and did not very well know what answer to make.
“I think you look remarkably well,” he muttered, “and only wish I looked half as well.”
“Oh! you flatterer. But come, let me beg of you to have a glass of wine.”
“Thank you, I had rather not.”
“Nay, but you must.”
“I’m a business man, and have much to attend to, and therefore seldom take anything in the morning.”
“A little brandy and seltzer won’t hurt you. Bah! don’t make a wry face—you are strong as a young Hercules.”
“Am I? I dont feel so,” returned Gatliffe, with a smile.
He, however, consented to quaff the contents of the proffered glass.
“I dare say you think me a singular sort of person,” remarked his companion; “and, to say the truth, I believe I am.”
“I have never said so.”
“Possibly not; but you have thought so, doubtless. Our acquaintance has been made in a casual accidental manner; but it sometimes happens, you know, that acquaintances of this sort ripen into a lasting friendship. I hope it may prove so in this case. At present we know but little of each other.”
“Yes, at present.”
“But there is no reason this should always be so. You are in business?”
“Yes, foreman to a large engineering firm.”
“And are single, I presume?”
“For the present, but——”
He hesitated.
“Enough, I do not seek to pry into your secrets. You are very good and kind—of that I am perfectly well assured; and that is quite enough for the present.”
Gatliffe thought her manner was very charming and ingenuous, but he was at a loss to know whether she was mistress of the establishment or not, and he was too diffident to make any inquiry.
“I must take my leave now,” he ejaculated.
“What! going so soon? Dear me, yours is a short visit.”
“You see, my time is not my own, and when I tell you that, I am sure you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, certainly. But I suppose I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
“Yes, on the very first opportunity.”
“Then I will not attempt to detain you, Mr. Gatliffe,” said she, rising and offering her hand to her visitor.
“He’s by no means forward or fast,” she murmured, when he had gone.
“He wants bringing out. I shall work him all right enough. He’s a bit smitten, that is very clear. I wonder whether he has a wife. I rather fancy he has. It is most fortunate that Alf is away in the country with his select companions. I shall have to deal with that fellow in a way he little expects, but for the present I have enough on hand.”
She dressed herself in fashionable garments, and sallied forth.
She paid a visit to several places of public resort, and amused herself for that day.
She expected to see Gatliffe on the succeeding one, but he did not make his appearance.
Three days elapsed. On the fourth he paid her another visit.
He was reserved and thoughtful, as on the previous occasion.
She told him that she had two tickets for the opera stalls, and asked him if he would like to make use of one—they were numbered seats, of course, and he might please himself about coming—any time would do, she herself would make use of the other.
He took the ticket, and promised to be there as early as circumstances would permit; then he left the same as before.
“He wants a mighty deal of humouring, and is evidently shy. No matter for that, I shall find means to banish his shyness. Good—doubtless he will be there; anyway I shall.”
She made a most elaborate toilette, with bare arms, a low-necked dress, together with all the devices which the ladies of the upper ten have recourse to when paying a visit to the opera in the full height of the season.
It is needless to say that Miss Stanbridge looked extremely lovely. Art had done something towards improving her personal appearance.
When her toilette was complete she desired her maid to go for a four-wheeler, in which she was conveyed to the opera-house. Upon taking her seat she found the adjacent one unoccupied. Tom Gatliffe had therefore not yet arrived.
Possibly he might think better of it, and not put in an appearance—there was no telling. However, she made up her mind to assume an air of cheerfulness and wait patiently.
He did not arrive till after the overture had been played, and the curtain drawn up. Upon presenting himself he was full of apologies for being so behind hand, saying that he had been unavoidably detained at the works.
Laura Stanbridge pouted a little, but accepted his apologies with grace and good humour.
At the close of the first act an animated and pleasant conversation was carried on between the two—the same formula took place during the succeeding intervals in the performance. The gentleman ordered ices and other refreshments for the lady.
When the opera was over, Laura Stanbridge passed out of the stalls with her friend.
“I must get you to fetch a cab, dear,” said she, “for I have come in my opera cloak just as you see me.”
“Certainly, by all means,” returned Gatliffe. “You wait here. I won’t be more than a few seconds.”
He returned, conducted her into the cab, and got into the vehicle himself.
He sat by her side, a little reserved perhaps, but in far better spirits than she had ever seen him.
When they arrived home the supper things had been laid, and the table “groaned,” to make use of a hackneyed phrase, with the best of everything it was possible to procure.
Gatliffe looked surprised.
“You are going to have some supper with me, of course?” suggested Laura.
“Umph, oh, yes,” he replied in a half hesitating manner.
Miss Stanbridge cast aside her opera cloak and stood before the young man in a costume of the most faultless description.
Her arms and the upper portion of her bust were bare, and Gatliffe was taken completely aback at the elegance of her attire and the beauty of her form.
He, however, said nothing, but sat down to supper, the girl waiting on her mistress and her visitor.
When the supper was over, and the things removed, Miss Stanbridge said to the girl—
“You may go to bed, Lucy. I shall not require you any more to-night. I will see my friend out. But stay, before you retire bring in a little hot water in the kettle.”
The girl did as she was required, and then took her way upstairs.
At the request of Laura Stanbridge Gatliffe lighted a cigar and mixed himself some grog.
An hour or more passed away.
* * * * *
The two companions were seated in the parlour, side by side—the hour was late, but Gatliffe still lingered.
“You have told me your sorrows and troubles,” said his female companion, “and no one can sympathise with you to a greater extent than myself, for I too have been deserted by a cold, cruel, heartless man, but it is all over now and I strive to forget the past—the bitter past.”
After this exordium she told her companion a specious tale, in which she made herself a most self-sacrificing creature.
She wound up by declaring that she was living on her means all alone in the world.
“Alone—eh?” cried Gatliffe. “Well, yes, I had a female companion, it is true, and a young man whom I have brought up, making this place his home; but he is like the rest, ungrateful and selfish.”
She sighed, and drew her chair nearer to his.
“Ah! if I could find but one sympathising friend,” she murmured; “for, oh! Mr. Gatliffe, we can none of us live only for ourselves. It is not in the nature and order of things—is it?”
“I don’t think it is,” he murmured, glancing at her dark, dreamy, voluptuous eyes—glancing at her marble bust, which was at this time a little more revealed than it had been upon their first entrance into the parlour.
“You agree with me, then?”
“As far as that is concerned, I do,” he returned.
“I expected you would do so, and your wife is so unmindful of this. You love her, I suppose?”
The engineer made no answer to this query.
“It is evident enough you do,” observed his companion.
“I did. It was impossible for me to do otherwise. When I first made her acquaintance I thought her the most charming creature I had ever seen.”
She placed her hand on his, and looked earnestly into his face.
He grasped her hand and drew her towards him. Her head fell upon his shoulder, and he inhaled the fragrance of her breath. A tremour seemed to creep through his frame; he placed his arm round her neck, and pressed his lips to hers in one long, lingering kiss.
She made no resistance.
Presently she wound her arms round him and returned the embrace. She breathed into his ear words of endearment, and Gatliffe was fairly enthralled; his hand accidentally came in contact with her bosom.
“You will not leave me to-night, dearest?” she murmured. “It is too late for you to think of returning home. You will not be cruel enough to leave me all alone after this brief interval of happiness?”
Gatliffe was bewildered; he knew he was acting in a most indiscreet manner, but had not the courage to break the spell that bound him.
The clock on the mantel-piece struck two.
“Goodness me—is it so late?” he ejaculated.
“It is late,” said his companion, “but what of that? The hours fly swiftly by when in the society of those we love.”
“But I really must be thinking of going.”
“Why so? You cannot reach Wood-green to-night, seeing that it is now morning, and what does it matter?”
“Upon my word,” said he, “I have been so charmed, so pleased with your society, that it appears I have forgotten all else.”
“And so you ought,” she cried, with another embrace.
“Ah,” he murmured, “I am powerless in your arms, and even unable to exercise any will of my own. This ought not to be.”
“Why not? I am pleased to think I have such power over you. Ah, Mr. Gatliffe, we are neither of us accountable to any one, and if—if—you find happiness in my society——” She broke off abruptly, and hid her head on his shoulder.
Gatliffe, who had been quite unprepared for this display of affection, was no longer master of himself. He took her on his knee and kissed her passionately.
No.41.
Illust: GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.
GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.
Laura Stanbridge, who had been playing her part to perfection, smiled.
She had him in her toils. Of that she felt assured. Unimpressible, and in a measure phlegmatic as he had been to the allurements of a designing woman, he was now, to make use of a nautical phrase, fairly capsized.
The beautiful creature in his arms affected to love him, and he, poor weak fool that he was, believed her.
“Now, dearest!” he exclaimed. “Will you excuse me? May I go?”
“As you please,” she answered, pouting.
“It is not as I please. It is for you to determine.”
“You would not think of leaving at such an hour. Are you not contented?”
“Certainly, but——”
“But what?”
I shall compromise you by remaining.
She laughed. “Ah! don’t mind me,” she cried.
“But the hour—ten minutes to three.”
“Well, I know that. When you desire to retire you have only to say the word. There is a bedroom already prepared for your reception. This house is my own; I am mistress here, and am a lady of independent means—what more do you desire to hear?”
Gatliffe had a very natural wish to know a great deal more, but he had the prudence not to broach so delicate a question.
“Oh! nothing—nothing more,” he stammered out.
“Good—you are weary. I will show you to your sleeping chamber,” said his companion, lighting a wax candle, and rising from her seat.
Gatliffe made no observation, but rose also.
The lady led the way upstairs and conducted her visitor to an elegantly-furnished bedroom on the second story of the house.
She placed the light on the toilet-table, and then turned towards the bewildered young man.
“You will be able to rest tranquilly here till morning, dearest,” she murmured.
Gatliffe nodded. Then he sprang forward and caught her in his arms. He pressed her form to his, and covered her with burning and passionate kisses.
“Enough!” cried Laura. “Good night. Susan will be up early, and you can have breakfast at what hour you please,” and with these words she passed along the passage.
Gatliffe closed the door of his bedroom, sat down in one of the chairs, and endeavoured to collect his thoughts—his head was in a perfect whirl.
“She is a beautiful creature,” he murmured. “A lady of independent means! Eh! what a strange adventure! Well, I have no reason to complain.”
He threw off his clothes and tumbled into bed, but he was too much disturbed in his mind to sleep. He thought over and over again of his mysterious inamorata. It would have been in vain for him to deny that he was very much taken with her.
He believed that he had made a conquest, and that she had conceived an overpowering affection for him. Who and what she was he found it difficult to determine; neither did it much matter—love levels all distinctions.
When he arose in the morning he went into the parlour, where the breakfast was served by the maid, who informed him that her mistress would be down in a few minutes.
Presently Laura Stanbridge made her appearance. She was attired in an elegant morning costume, and seemed to be none the worse for her carouse on the preceding night. She did the honours of the table with infinite grace, and paid every possible attention to her guest.
Gatliffe was charmed with her manner. He thanked her for all her kindness, and when the morning was over told her that he must leave to attend to his business at the works.
She acquiesced and offered her hand. Gatliffe drew her towards him and embraced her; then he took his departure with a promise that he would pay her another visit.
The more he thought over his adventure the more puzzled he was, but he could not keep long away from the woman who by this time had him enthralled.
He visited her again and again until he became a regular frequenter of the establishment. He slept there two or three nights out of the week. As time went on all restraint was thrown off, and Laura Stanbridge became his mistress.
Those who had known him in his earlier years would have found it difficult to believe that this could have come to pass.
But so it was. He was no match in cunning and duplicity to the heartless woman who had him in her toils.
When he thought of Aveline he felt abased and humiliated. He could not at first realise the depths into which he had fallen. The events of the last few weeks seemed to him more like a dream than an actual reality.