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 at St. 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.
[Sidenote: No. 41.]
[Illustration: 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.