Read Ebook: What a Man Wills by Vaizey George De Horne Mrs Michael A C Arthur C Illustrator

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Ebook has 971 lines and 79590 words, and 20 pages

"Well, wonderful woman!" he said, "you have given us a wonderful evening, and now we must stand by, and watch those nine strugglers in the maelstrom. It will be interesting; it will be awful. How many of them do you suppose will win through to their goal?"

Mrs Ingram did not answer his question; she asked another of her own accord:

"Did you notice," she said softly, "that no one, not one of them--"

"Wished your wish?" he finished for her. "Yes! I noticed!"

He laid his hands on her shoulders, and they stood together, gazing deeply into each other's eyes.

"But," she sighed softly, "it is the best!"

THE GIRL WHO WISHED FOR MONEY.

Claudia Berrington prided herself that if she had many faults, she had at least one supreme virtue--she was honest! She condescended to no subterfuges, no half-truths, no beatings about the bush. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth fell from her coral lips with a nakedness which astonished her hearers, and this despite the fact that few people had less consideration for honesty for honesty's sake. There was no "I can, because I ought" in Claudia Berrington's composition; her outspokenness was simply a means to an end. Very early in life her sharp wits had mastered the fact that honesty was the best policy, and that to speak the truth was at once to disarm criticism and to avoid the danger of pitfalls.

The friend looked at the fair, delicately cut face with a pang of envy.

"No one gets all one wants in life, Claudia," said the friend tritely. "All the money in the world can't protect you from the troubles which enter every life!"

Then Meriel had arisen and swept scornfully from the room, and Claudia had laughed, and yawned, and gone to bed.

Several men proposed to Claudia during the next two years, only to be rejected with a finality which left no ground for appeal, and then, soon after the celebration of her twenty-fifth birthday, John Biggs appeared upon the scene. He was neither a Maharajah nor a German Jew, and he knew nothing whatever about soap-boiling. Probably in early years he had hardly been better acquainted with soap itself! He was an Australian by birth; a man of the people, who by a series of lucky chances had first discovered a gold reef, and then secured it for his own. A born fighter, he had experienced a delight in every step on the road to success, which was strangely lacking when the summit was reached. He was a multi-millionaire; he owned more money than he could spend. The battle had been fought and won, and henceforth life stretched before him barren of interest. He made his way to London, as millionaires have a habit of doing, was eagerly welcomed by a certain section of society, and in the course of a few weeks met Miss Berrington at a musical "At Home."

The speaker was a recent acquaintance, sufficiently under the spell of Claudia's dimples to believe her everything that was disinterested and simple. Her reply gave him a shock.

"A millionaire, is he? That covers a multitude of--teeth! I shan't scream, after all. No; I don't want to hide. I've a penchant for millionaires! I'll sit here and look pretty! How long do you give him, Mr Bruce, before he asks for an introduction?"

As for John Biggs, no words could describe his admiration of this wonderful new specimen of womanhood. Never in all his life had he beheld anyone so fair, so exquisite, so ethereal. Her hair was like threads of gold. The exquisite fineness and beauty of her complexion was like that of a child. It seemed a miracle in the eyes of the big, rough man that a grown-up woman should preserve such delicacy of charm. Yet as they exchanged the first commonplaces of conversation there was something in the expression of those sunken eyes which was not wholly approving. They seemed to Claudia like small steel gimlets, piercing into her soul! As he bade her good-bye that evening, John Biggs announced coolly:

"I shall see you again on Thursday, as arranged!" and when Claudia exclaimed, he waved aside her protests with a sarcastic laugh.

Claudia shrugged her shoulders, and took refuge in her usual honesty.

"I never pretend," said John Biggs. His eyes rested on the string of imitation pearls encircling the slender neck, and he spoke again, roughly, insolently: "Why do you deck yourself with sham beads?"

"Because I have nothing better, of course. What a stupid question to ask!"

"You ought to wear emeralds," he said. "They are the stones for you, with your complexion and eyes. You ought to wear emeralds. Ropes of emeralds."

"I intend to!" answered Claudia calmly.

Their eyes met, and they stared at one another; a cold and challenging stare.

On the fifteenth day after their introduction, the couple sat together under a tree at one of the outdoor functions of the year, and John Biggs asked a sudden question:

"What did you think of me," he asked, "when you first saw me that evening at the Rollos'?"

Claudia smiled at him with the sweetness of an angel.

"I thought," she said, "you were the ugliest man I had ever seen!"

"And yet," he said sneering, "you made eyes at me across the room. You willed me to come and be introduced!"

"Yes, I did. But that," said Claudia serenely, "was because you were rich."

The gimlet-like eyes stared long and straight at the lovely face, beneath the rose-crowned hat.

"I think," John Biggs said deliberately, "you are the most soulless human creature on earth! That lovely body of yours is a shell--a beautiful shell with nothing inside. You have no soul!"

"You are false!" he replied coldly. "Your honesty is a blind to hide the falseness beneath. There is nothing true, nor straight, nor honest about you." And then bending nearer, so that his huge brown face almost touched her own, he hissed a question into her ear: "Claudia--will you marry me?"

Claudia gave a trill of birdlike laughter.

"Yes, please!" she cried gaily. "But what a funny proposal! You don't `lead up' a bit well. They are generally so flattering and nice, and you were horrible. Why do you want to marry me, if you disapprove of me so much?"

"N-ot exactly," said Claudia, with a gulp. His nearness gave her a momentary feeling of suffocation, but she braced herself to bear it without shrinking. "N-ot exactly; but I love the things you can give me! It's a fair exchange, isn't it? You want a hostess; I want a home. You don't pretend to love me, either!"

Then suddenly his eyes blazed upon her.

"Not you, perhaps, but your beauty! I worship your beauty," he cried. "Your beauty has driven me mad! Make no mistake, my girl, you don't deceive me--you are not worth loving, not even worth buying, though you are so ready to sell your dainty pink and white self, but I am going to buy you all the same. I've worked hard for my money, and I can afford to indulge myself in worthless trifles if it suits my fancy. It is, as you say, a fair exchange. You want my money, I want your beauty. I have worked among grim sights; now, for a change, I shall look upon-- You!" He stretched out his great hand, and laid it beside hers. "Hide and satin! Who would believe that we belonged to the same species! You're a dainty morsel, my dear. We shall make a pretty pair."

Claudia looked at him, and felt a shrinking of heart.

"You'll be good to me?" she asked him. "You'll promise not to quarrel, or be stingy? You won't make me marry you, and then put me on an allowance, or fuss about bills? You'll promise faithfully!"

He lifted his hand and stroked the exquisite cheek. Seen close at hand, the fineness and smoothness of the skin was even more wonderful than from afar. He gripped the chin between finger and thumb, and turned her face to his, staring greedily at each curve and line. In appearance, as in manner, Claudia went in for honesty. There was no artificiality about her beauty, not even a brush of powder upon the skin. The man who had just settled his terms regarded his purchase with kindling eyes.

"I'll buy you your emeralds, my beauty, the finest emeralds I can find," he cried. "Everyone shall talk of you; everyone shall envy you. The Queen of Beauty, Mrs John Biggs!"

Claudia Biggs had been married for two years, and had flourished like the proverbial bay-tree. Her wedding had been one of the smartest functions of the season, her honeymoon had been spent in a lordly castle "lent for the occasion" by its titled owner. As Mrs John Biggs, she had made her presentation curtsey to her sovereign in a gown whose magnificence was the talk of the town; every house that was worth visiting threw open its doors to the millionaire and his wife, and Society flocked to the entertainments given by them in their turn. There had been those who had prophesied disaster from the marriage, who had felt convinced that Claudia would not be able to endure so close a companionship with her Ogre, but as time passed on they were obliged to confess their mistake, for Claudia bloomed into an amazing, an almost incredible, beauty. She had always been lovely, but the loveliness of Claudia the maid was as nothing compared with that of Claudia the wife. What had been, as it were, a flower of the wayside, had become the most rare and costly of exotics, tended with every extravagance of care. The most exquisite garments, the most costly gems, were showered upon her by a husband who took no account of money spent on the adornment of the beauty for which he had paid so high a price; but if he were generous in the fulfilment of his promise, he insisted that Claudia should do her own share. She must be sparing in food and drink, she must take regular exercise; she must keep early hours, and retire to the country for specified periods of rest. John commanded, and, after one memorable attempt at rebellion, Claudia had silently obeyed. She never voluntarily recalled that occasion, but from time to time it visited her in dreams, and then she awoke screaming, as from a nightmare.

At the end of two years, the girl friend who had lectured Claudia on the night of her confession that she wanted money came to pay a visit to the Mayfair mansion, afire with eagerness to see with her own eyes this strangely matched pair. Claudia was lazy about correspondence, and on the rare occasions when she did exert herself to write, her letters were stiff and artificial. She was aware of her own lack of epistolary skill, and was in the habit of referring her friends to the Society papers for news of her doings. "They'll tell you all about my dresses," she would say serenely, and following her advice her friends read accounts of wonderful brocades embroidered with real jewels, of trains composed of cloth of gold, and cobweb creations of lace, whose value ran high in four figures, and they laughed to themselves as they read, recalling the old days and the rich cousin's "cast-offs."

Certainly Claudia could now claim to be one of the most gorgeously dressed women in society, but--was she happy? Meriel, who was of a romantic and sensitive temperament, recalled the appearance of John Biggs as he had appeared at the wedding ceremony: the gross bulk of the man, the projecting teeth, the small eyes glowing like points of light, the large coarse face; remembering, she shuddered at the remembrance, and for the hundredth time repeated the question--was it possible that Claudia could know happiness with such a mate?

Meriel arrived at the Mayfair mansion late one March afternoon, and was escorted up a magnificent staircase into an equally magnificent drawing-room on the first floor. Everything on which the eyes rested was costly and beautiful, but, looking around with dazzled eyes, Meriel realised that this was but a show-room, an enlarged curio case, in which were exhibited isolated objects of value. There was no harmony about the whole, no skilful blending of effect; the loving touch which turns a house into a home was missing here. The perfect specimens stood stiffly in their places, there was no sign of occupation, not so much as a book lying upon a chair.

The first impression was undoubtedly disappointing, but presently the door opened, and Claudia herself appeared on the threshold, and ran forward, impulsive, loving, and unaffected as in the days of her obscurity.

"No good, my dear, I've no money to spend. Besides, what's the use of worrying about clothes while I'm with you? I'm bound to look the veriest frump in comparison, so why worry any more? We are not all the wives of millionaires."

"No! Isn't it a pity? I do wish you were. Sit down, dear, and we'll have tea."

Claudia touched the electric bell and seated herself on a sofa a little to the left of her friend's chair, looking towards her with a smile in which complacency was tinged with a touch of anxiety.

"How do I look?"

Meriel looked, laughed, and waved her hands in the air with a gesture meant to convey the inadequacy of words.

"A vision! A dream. Snow white. Rose red. A fairy princess. A diamond queen. Quite unnecessarily and selfishly beautiful, my dear, and as sleek as a well-stroked cat! Really, Claudia, you've eclipsed yourself!"

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