MATRIMONY ON COMMISSION.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8832, 19 January 1907, Page 2

MATRIMONY ON COMMISSION.

(London "Truth.") " And you'll promise — promise faith- , fully— that you'll marry me as ©oon ac ever we land in America, Stanhope? ''Indeed, I will, ray darling. Surely it cannot be that you doubt me— that you think 'l oould be such a scamp as to play you false, when you know how dearly I love you.'V . " Nol No!" (and she buned her face on his shoulder). "Jsut— but— — " "But what, my sweet one? _ "I_l —don't know, Stanhope. But ! somehow I feel— l feel-^-as though— as though— l can't tell you exactly how* I feel. You would not understand me if I did. No man would. It is _ tremendous step for a girl to take— to run away with you like this^ and I am afraid— lest— lest something should happen to. prevent your marrying me, and — and " . "Psha! my darling," he mterpcsed, caressing her, " I tell you, nothing can, and nothing shall, happen to prevent my marrying you, such a step is impossible. But when we land in New York, I will marry you aa soon as ever the legal formalities can be complied with. You may feel quite easy on that point. I will give you my solemn word of honour." Still she shivered. Still her whole being was oppressed with a sense of vague, indefinable terror. This stop meant so much more to her than it did to him. He stood to lose little or nothing. She stood to lose everything— as, under such circumstance, the woman always does. To her it was the crossing of the Rubicon and the burning of her bridges behind her, without possibility of retreat. To him it was nothing more than merely paddling through a shallow brook, over which to retrace his steps was the simplest thing imaginable. An unequal world this, my masters, for the man and for the woman. Ido not pretend that the remark is original. It has been made some millions of times before, and will be made some millions of times again. And satirists will continue to denounce it, and the true followers of the Master will go on just the same till the end of time. He took her in his arms^ soothing, caressing, consoling her. She nestled against him, like a little frightened bird. The reproving voice of conscience — the strugglings j>angs of maidenly modesty — were drawing her in one direction ; love %Jid the man were drawing her in the other. And love and the man (as always, when he happens to be a man) oarried the day. She yielded to his entreaties and promised *E_ run away^-with him. He had already made all his plans. She was to meet him at Eueton on the following Thursday (this wae Sunday evening) and to proceed with him to Liverpool, en route for New York, travelling as his wife. All this part of the programme he meant to carry out. Arrived in New York, they Were to be married at the earliest possible moment. This part of the programme he did not mean to carry out. From this you will readily gather what sort of person the Hon Stanhope Chudleigh wa6. Of all. heartless libertines, he was the most heartless. The bulk of his spare time— which practically meant all the time when he was not eating, drinking, sleeping or praying bridge — was spent in pursuing and making love to good-looking young women, in an inferior walk of life to his own. with a view to their ultimate betrayal and ruin. He flattered him- [ self that he was a past master in the I arts by wbich innocent girls are cajolj ed, and (for we must give the devil hiß due) he flattered himself not without reason. His person, hie manners, his address, were all eminently attractive. He had a way with him few women who did not know the real man could resist. When he made love to his intended victims, it was done with *po convincing an air of honesty and sincerity that it is no wonder they were deceived. Indeed, what innocent girl, lookihg into those wonderful eyes of his, so apparently instinct with tender and chivalrous devotion, or hearing that deep voice of his, thrilling with apparent truth and fervour, could possibly doubt his straightforwardness or suppose that the honourable love which he so convincingly professed was anything else than what it seemed ? Yet, when he had -entangled her in his toils and she came to know the man as he really was — when she found herself betrayed, deserted, and left to her fate on some foreign shore — -then, how she cursed the fate that had ever thrown her across his path ! More than one unhappy victim of Stanhope Ohudleigh's had died by her own hand, calling aloud to the Almighty to visit her blood upon her betrayers head; and others were driven to a fate -even worse than that, and went down alive into the great abyss. But Stanhope Chudleigh, like many another of his kidney, still held his head' high-— still pursued, without stigma and without compulsion, the primrose path amorous dalliance. The betrayer went ' scathless. The betrayed _ were cast into outer darkness. That is how we regulate the balance between the man and the woman in this ugly old world. The only consolation is that the account will, doubtless, be _ readjusted, with compound interest — in the next- And then (Heaven be praised) the Stanhope Chudleighs of our social system will have a pretty long account to pay. Prosit omen- ! May it be so ! Enough, however, of moralising on this trite and hackneyed subject. It is time to come to details. The unfortunate girl round whom Stanhope Chudleigh was now_casting his toils, and who, as we have seen, had consented to run away with him to America — under promise of marriage upon their arrival in New York— was a pretty girl, named Netta Sullivan, employed as* shorthand and typewriting clerk in the offices, of a firm of West End solicitors. Netta, who had always been rather a wilful girl and impatient of the restraints of home life, had quarrelled with her people more than a year ago, and had insisted on coming to London to earn her own living. This had given great offence to her family, and resulted in a complete estrangement between them and Netta. Indeed, no communication had passed between them since ehe left home. It was, of course, a dangerous position for an attractive young girl, like Netta Sullivan, to be living alone in rooms in London, with no ono to chaperone or look after her. Still, she was fairly capable of taking cafe of herself, and all might have been well, if she had not, unfortunately, made the acquaintance of Stanhope Chudleigh. The acquaintance had come about in this way. The firm of solicitors by whom Netta was employed acted for Stanhope Chudleigh in business, and, happening to call at their office one day, and catching sight of ; Netta' s pretty face — which immediately took ' his ■ faney — he determined, by _some means or other, to procure an intro** duction. The matter presented no great difficulties to a man of his resources in such affairs, a_d by a sovereign or two judiciously bestowed upon one of her fellow-clerks, the introduction was easily effected. Netta, at once attracted by his engaging personality, and also somewhat flattered by the admiration of an Earl's son, was not backward .in responding to his advances, and before long was deeply in love with him. It was, however, evident '" to him from the first that Netta was not a girl who oould be 'victimised, except under the guise of honourable intentions. So —as he had often done before with other girls— he made her an offer of , marriage, as the preliminary step in

his nefarious game. Netta being, as I have said, deeply in love with him, and haying no reason to doubt his good faith, accepted him without demur; though, had she been less in love with him, the fact of his stipulating that the engagement should be kept a secret might have put her on her guard. I have no time to describe in detail the cunningly contrived methods by which Stanhope Chudleigh brought matters to the pitch which they had reached at the opening of this story. Suffice it to say that by telling her various tales, which only a blind unreasonable love could have swallowed, he -made her believe that the one way of their becoming man and wife was to get off to America together, and to be married there. And to this course the woman's heart — overpowering the woman's conscience and better judgment — ultimately consented. Stanhope Chudleigh walked home to his rooms that Sunday evening feeling on the whole very well pleased with himself. Only one thing troubled him at all — the question of ways and •means. He was rather short of ready cash at the moment, being already considerably in debt, and having overdrawn his handsome allowance from his father. " I shall have to fly a kite," he said to himself, " and negotiate it with the Hebrews. Curse this beastly money problem. It is one bugbear in life. S'pose I shall have to marry money before long, or else I shall certainly go on the rocks. Wish I could find some girl rich enough to make it worth while. But the decent-looking girla with large fortunes won't look at younger sons, and I'm not going to sell myself for a song, I know that jolly well. I must ask Annie Slaymaker whether she can turn up anything in my line. Annie will want a heavy commission, of course. But that don't ; matter, as it will come out of the girl's money. When I've put this little American job through I must take the matrimonial game seriously in hand." Talk of an angel, they say, and you will hear the rustle of its wings. Stan- j hope Chudleigh. did not exactly hear the rustle of Annie, Lady Slaymaker's j wings; but he experienced a ooinci- j dence nearly equivalent to it in finding ' a letter from ncr Ladyship awaiting I him at hi£ hotel. It ran: — " Dear Stan, — You may remember , that, when you and I last met, we had a little talk together, the subject of which was the consolidation of your financial future by a sound matrimonial alliance. Now, I believe I have found the, very thing for you — a girl with: £26,000 a year, arising from invested capital, entirely at her' own disposal. At present she's living quietly in the country, out of the beat of. fortune- j hunters, and it's not generally known what a pecuniary peach she is. _ But at the beginning of next season, in less than three months' time, her manager j is going to bring her to London and | trot her out in society, and then you can imagine how all the bankrupt mem' bers of the' universe will be after her, like wasps after jam. I mention this { that you may understand , how really pressing the mattei* is. Ih fact, it is very much aut nunc aut nunquam, as William of Orange remarked on a historic occasion. If you make the girl's acquaintance, now, at once (and I can easily work ix, for you), and engage her affections before any more eligible rival has the chance to cut in, I haye little doubt you can pull the big thing off. If you entertain this rarely unique opportunity of being on velvet for the i rest of your life, come and lunch with me to-morrow, and I'll put you on the i damsel's tract at once. — Yours sin- | cerely,, ANNIE SLAYMAKER. j " P.S. — As a matter of business, I might mention that my terms are your written undertaking to pay me £4000 within a month of your' marriage. — A.S» ! Stanhope Chudleigh read this Inter- ! esting epistle through several times, his handsome face puckered the while into a thoughtful frown. j Twenty thousand pounds a year, i arising from invested oapital, entirely at the girl's own disposal. . . . And to be had, apparently, for the asking. . . . His mouth watered at the thought of it. Of course, it would mean chucking up that American trip with Netta. . . . But could he afford to lose such a unique opportunity? . . He hemmed and had, wavered and hesitated, then finally decided to sleep on it. v Next morning he awoke still undecided. After all the trouble he had taken to get Netta into line, could ac bring himself to abandon the gratification of his nefarious pleasures?- But still, to lose £20,000 a year — and his financial position already "so uncomfortably acute. . . . lib seemed madness. . . . And yet — and yet— — So he weighed jpros and cons., - distracted between the acquisitive instinct and the sexual instinct in his composition. And in which direction he would finally have inclined I cannot say, had it not been that chance ordained it that at the cruoial point he should receive a decisive impetus. The midday post brought him a letter from a firm of solicitors, acting on behalf of a tailor to whom Chudleigh was deeply indebted, pressing for immediate payment of the account, in default of which they threatened to issue a writ against him without further notice. Thi9 letter, by bringing home to him in the most forcible manner the really parlous state of his financial position, inclined the wavering scale irr favour of Lady Slaymaker's proposal ; and he went round, as she nad suggested, to lunch with her,. and to talk *a rer the matter. Lady Slaymaker an old acquaintance of his, who had been left practically penniless by her deceased husband — the notorious peer of that name — ahd who made no seoret of the fact that she made her living by "arranging" marriages, received Stanhope Chudleigh quite en bon oamarade. " Welcome, mon ami," she said. " I am glad you have come. I thought such a bonne bouche ..would fetch you. She is not. a bad-looking girj, either, and only three-and-twenty. These chances do not come in the way of younger sons once in a blue moon. You may esteem yourself extremely fortunate i£ enjoying the friendship of a certain person, who, when ehe lands upon a really good thing, is sufficiently interested in you to put you in the* wav of it." Stanhope Chudleigh smiled rather sardonically. " Friendship? Umph, yes," he murmured. "Friendship on commission at so much per cent, eh, my dear lady?" " Oh, as to that," rejoined Lady Slavmak'er, coolly, "I make no secret of the "fact that this sort of thing's my bread and butter; and therefore of course, I don't pretend to give away my good things gratis. What woman in my position would) ?" "I'm not contending that your terms are unreasonable," replied Chudleigh. " Unreasonable ! I should think not," retorted her ladyship. " When the girl has from four to five hundred thousand pounds in gilt-edged stuff, entirely at her own disposal, as well as a nice little realty; and I'm only asking four thou. — less than one per cent — for my services. The fee 1 is, in fact, ridiculously small. Why, I could place her almost anywhere at double the money." So he wrote a very pretty letter to Netta Sullivan, in which, he told her that he was obliged to leave London for awhile on urgent bueinees, and that therefore their projected trip to America and subsequent marriage must be postponed for the present. And Netta, f)oor little fool, when she reoeived this etter, nearly cried -her eyes out, not knowing what a terrible fate she was thus escaping, and that nothing more

providential could possibly have happened to her. In the meanwhile Stanhope Chudleigh proceeded with Lady Slaymaker to Bournemouth, and was there, in due course, introduced to Miss Lornmer and her mother, The girl, as Lady Slaymaker had said, was by no means bad-looking, and' wae very quiet and j ladylike. She was evidently attracted | from the first — as most girls were — by Chudleigh'e engaging personality; and in the course of a few weeks matters progressed so favourably that the handsome young fortune-hunter proposed and was accepted. Moreover, there being no reason for delay, it was arranged that they should be maTried in London at the beginning of the season. "I suppose tbe oofs all right — eh, what?" inquired Stanhope, twirling his moustache. " Abso-lutely," answered her ladyship, with emphasis. " I don't offer my clients pigs in pokes, dear boy. They know what they're buying when they deal with me. This, as the auctioneers would say, is a personally inspected property. I've satisfied' myself by exhaustive inquiries, and oan vouch for it that my statement of the damsel's financial position is in every respect accurate. "Who is ehe P" asked Stanhope Chudleigh. Lady Slaymaker laughed lightly, and applied a very white and shapely forefinger to the much be-pencilled rim of a yery lustrous eye. "You don't happen to see any verdure here, dear boy, do youP" she inquired. "No, no, Stanhope! Business is business, even between old acquaintances like you and me. They say, you know,, that you can't trust your best friend further than you can see him in a deal over a horse, and the same maxim applies, with even more point, to a deal oyer a woman. I must have something in writing before I show my hand. In fact, I've got a little agreement here already, drawn up in case you care to execute it. Append your signature to that, and we can get to business at once. But not before, dear boy. You can't expect it." "Let's see the agreement first," said Stanhope, holding out his hand. Lady Slaymaker pushed it across the , table to him. He took it and read as follows : — "In consideration of your introducing me to an heiress under the age of twenty-five, with a fortune of not less than £400,000 at her _ own disposal, I agree, in the event of my marrying the said heiress, ,to pay you the sum of £4000 within 'one month of my wedding day. If no' marriage results from the introduction this agreement shall be null and void." "That's the form of agreement I usually adopt with my clients," said Lady Slaymaker. "Have you any objection to sighing itP" " Not in the least, my dear lady," grinned Stanhope Chudleigh. "Give us a pen P' "And now to come io details," remarked her Ladyship, briskly, when this little formality had been completed. "First-, as tc the damsel's name. - She is a Miss Mary Lorimer, and she has lately arrived with her mother from Sydney, where her father (who, fortunately for our purpose, is dead) made his pile in canned mutton. They are at present staying — for the winter — at the Bath Hotel, Bournemouth. And, of course, if you really want to annex the damsel, you had better go down there without delay before someone else_cute in and queers the pitch for you. I will go down with you and bring about the necessary introduction. When can you start? This afternoon? To-morrow morning —eh?" I "I say, that's rather sharp work, though," ejaculated Stanhope Chudleigh. " There's need of sharp work when it's a question of annexing half a ihillion of money," replied Lady Slaymaker, with businesslike decision. "I j tell you candidly, my dear Stan, that ; I'm on thorns all the time lest somebody else in my line of business should get on to her track and spoof me of the profits that I am looking to make over her. Eve?y hour's delay increases the risk of this^ and, though I've done the friendly thing by you in offering you the first refusal, you must please understand that unless you can take on the job at once I shall be obliged, in my own interests, to place my commission elsewhere. I'd rather you should pluck this financial peach than anyone /else; and, with your personal advantages, if you give your mind to it, while she is still disengaged, you can make pretty sure of doing so. At the same time, I can't afford to risk losing my £4000 through any unbusinesslike procrastination on your part, So if it's going to be a deal, you must commence your operations on the nail. Let that be clearly understood." . Stanhope Chudleigh, after a little reflection, saw the absolute idiocy of throwing away such a unique chance, and it ended, in his agreeing to accompany Lady Slaymaker to Bournemouth on the following day. Chudleigh would rather have had the marriage take place quietly in the country, where there would 'be less chance of Netta Sullivan hearing of it ; the more so as he had not yet plucked up courage (for fear of Netta's exposing him to Mary Lorrimer) to writr*and break off the engagement, and tell her that he~ was now engaged to marry another girl. However, as the Lorrimers were bent on the marriage taking, place at. a fashionable West End church, he did not venture to press his objections, lest he might thereby excite suspicion,' and all he could do was to trust to luck to keep Netta Sullivan out of the way until he had safely secured Mary Lorrimer and her £400,000. But in this respect luck was not destined to favour him. One morning, going to see Miss Lorrimer at her hotel, he found her with a lady visitor, and that visitor, to his unutterable oonfusion and dismay, was Netta Sullivan. Netta's dark eyes flashed on him witheringly as he entered. A curious expression, half contemptuous, half triumphant, was on Mary Lorrimer's usually smiling face. " I think," she said, quietly, "that I need not introduce -you to my sister. You have met before, I understand." "Your sister?" gasped out Stanhope Chudleigh. " Yes, my sister," replied Mary Lorrimer, while her voice took a note of trenchent and biting scorn. "My sister, who changed her name when she left us and went to live in London — my sister, to whom you made love — whom you plotted to ruin — but whom (thank God 1) I have managed to save. I knew it would be useless to expose your real character to her in words. She toyed you, and would not have believed anything I might have said to your detriment. I set myself, therefore, to devise a more practical and convincing way of bringing home to her your heartlesshess an 4 perfidy. If you doubt whether I have succeeded, look my sister in the. face, and see what is written there — if you dare." But Chudleigh Stanhope did not dare. Not usually lacking in effrontery, 'he could not muster courage to look Netta in the face at that humiliating moment. Instead, he turned and slunk quickly out, feeling smaller — far small** cr — than he had ever felt before in all liis life. " But I do not quite understand how you managed it, even now, Mary," said Netta to her sister, in the course of a subsequent explanation. "Oh, I put myself in the hands of a society woman, a notorious marriage brokeresG, and left her to work it for me. She represented me to that villain as a wealthy Australian heiress,' 1 ,: believe. But exactly what lie she told

him doesn't matter. It effected its purpose, and -saved you, dear, which is all that I care about," said Mary, folding her sister to her heart. She did not tell Netta — she was too generous to do that — that the said marriage brokeress had not done her work for nothing, but that it had oost Mary nearly a third of her little fortune — £2000, to be exact — to save her sister from the evil designs of Stanhope Chudleigh.