What a Man Wills Part 2

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

"You are so lovely, Claudia; you'll find him fast enough, and he'll wors.h.i.+p you, and think you a paragon of virtue. It _is_ unfair! A plain-looking girl who would have loved him back, and been amiable and devoted, would have no chance, whereas you will carry all before you.

It _is_ unfair!"

"Oh, I'll be quite sweet to him. I'll have to be, to keep him in a good temper. I'll be wickedly extravagant, you see, like all _nouveaux riches_, and I detest rows! Don't you worry about the man, dear. He'll be happy enough. So long as I get all I want, I'm quite easy to live with!"

"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!"

"Perhaps not; but it can gild them! If I'm bound to have troubles, let me have them _de luxe_. A million or two can make anything picturesque.

All the difference between sables and bombazine. Shouldn't I look sweet, Meriel, as a widow, with a Marie Stuart bonnet and a cloak of priceless sables? He might die, you know! You never can tell!"

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."

"Who's the Ogre?" asked Claudia of her companion as she watched the entrance of the big, lumbering man, who still carried his dress clothes with an air of discomfort. She shuddered daintily. "He looks like, 'The better to eat you, my dear.' Such teeth oughtn't to be _allowed_!

_Has_ he any eyes? They are so buried in fat that one can't see. It's very inconsiderate of Lady Rollo to give us such shocks! If he comes over here, I shall scream!"

"That's Biggs, the Australian millionaire, the third richest man in the world, so they say. He _is_ an ugly beggar, and as glum as he's ugly.

Doesn't appear to get much fun out of his pile! There's no need to be introduced to him, Miss Berrington, if you'd rather not. Shall we go and hide in the conservatory?"

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 mult.i.tude 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?"

Mr Bruce gave him ten minutes, but, as a matter of fact, it was only seven and a half by the clock before the Ogre was bowing before the Beauty's sofa, and being smilingly welcomed to a seat by her side. He was portentously ugly! Claudia, regarding him with her long green eyes, thought she had never before beheld so unattractive a man. "Flabby dabby" was her not inappropriate mental definition, but the small grey eyes looking out of the vast ma.s.s of flesh were disconcertingly keen and alert. Claudia realised that her description did not apply to the man's _mind_, however aptly it might fit his body.

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.

"You have been at pains to tell me exactly what you are to be doing every day of this week! Didn't you _intend_ me to meet you?"

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

"Well--I _did_! But you might have pretended that I didn't. It's rather unkind to show that you see through my poor little machinations with such ease."

"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.

During the next fortnight Society watched with interest the progress of the affair between "Beauty and the Beast," and speculation was rife as to its outcome. Would he propose; and, if so, would she--_could_ she accept? It seemed impossible to her friends that even Claudia, the mercenary, could sell herself to this ogre-like man. But Claudia herself had no hesitation.

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 sh.e.l.l--a beautiful sh.e.l.l with nothing inside. You have no soul!"

"I don't want one, thank you. They're such a bother. Why are you so cross with me all of a sudden?" cried Claudia, making a delightful little _moue_ of childlike injury and distress. "I've been so nice to you all this time, and it's mean to ask questions, and then get cross when I tell you the truth."

"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?"

"Why do you want to marry _me_?" he asked in return. There was no lover-like ardour in his voice; the sunken eyes gleamed with a mocking light; every tooth in his head seemed to show as he bent over her. "Is it because you love me, Claudia?"

"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 wors.h.i.+p 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!"

"You shall have as much money as you can spend. You're an object _de luxe_, my dear, and shall be s.h.i.+elded carefully in your gla.s.s case. I'm not a fool to buy a curio, and not look after its preservation. Take care of your beauty! Deck it up! It's mine! I've bought it--_see that I get my price_!"

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!"