LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2514, 28 April 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

WIFE IN ENGLAND—NOT IN FRANOE. A STORY OF AN INTERNATIONAL MARRIAGE. {Concluded). 'Mr John Gibeon has die! rich,' said the lawyer Summersby. 'indeed, sir; 1 only just knew that my husband had a brother. My husband rarely spoke of him. I am under the impression that Mr Thomas Gibson, my late husband, held, rightly or wrongly, that his brother had done him a great wrong.' 'Our client was under that impression himself, my dear madam, and had been so for many years. By his instructions we have kept you in sight since you left the farm In Kent, albeit we have never made ourselves known to you. Our client gave us distinct directions in no way to communicate with you unless you were in actual want But, as you showed no stgna of poverty, actiDg on our instructions we have not mafe ourselves known to you—doubtless it has been our loss ' —bowing politely. 'And what s the amount of the fortune left to my daughter ?' ' About seventy thousand pounds—Here! Jenkins, Jones, some water, there?' F<.r the poor woman, unable to bear the gre*t news, had fainted. When she was suffic'.ently recovered to be more fully interrogated, the lawyer said—- ' Vetera ii your daughter ?' « At Bath.' ' What is she doing there ?' ' She is on hor marriage trip, sir. She wa3 married on Tuesday last.' 'Good heavens I—and our client died on Monday. The news only reached us yesterday. We at once wrote on Wednesday ; aud you have called to day, Thursday.' Then followed the question he was so desirous, as a lawyer, to put—- * Whom has she married ?' The wretohad woman was forced to mike the confession—' A gentleman named Evan Lloyd, who lived In our house.' ' A Welshman ?' 1 fc'o ; an Englishman, I believe.' ' You believe; have you not been introduce I to his po -pie ?' 'No ; they live in Paris.' ' Paris—it is a city not more than ten hours away.' And then came another question which the cautiius lawyer was most desirous of putting:— ' Was there any sattlement made of your daughter's property ?' ' I do not know what you mean?' ' Do you venture to say this marriage has taken vlaco without any lawyer being consalted, ' ' Certainly ; I never thought it necessary to see a lawyer ; it would havo cost money.' But ehe had some property—her father died not a'cso'uto'y pjor and intestate.' 'I have three thousand pounds, sir.' 1 You have nothing of the kind—you have only one thousand !' ' Indeed' Bhe said ; and then with evident relief after a long pause—'but the other two thousand ate my daughter's, and she will remain in my house ; or at all events she would have stayed there, but for this wonderful change in bor fortune.' 'I b?g your pardon; if the money was not settled upon your daughter, her husband can claim this two thousand at any moment, a 3 no doubt he will; he cannot be an honorable man—every honor.ble man insists upon his wife having a settlement made upon herself of her property.' ' Then ho is our master.' 'More than you think for; John Gibson died on Monday, the day before the wedding, and unless there is so ue certain clause in the will (which. I fear is nob in it), then, there being no settlement, your daughter's husband will have absolute control over the whole of our late c'ient's fortune ; this is very grave, Mrs Gibson, and your conduct has b.en most rash ; it is clear to me that -you did not know the man who has married your daughter sufficiently to justify such an alliance, and you have not only given away two-thirds of your own little fortune to a stranger, but you have made him the master of seventy thousand pounds which you and your daughter otherwise practically would possess; when—when will people learn economy, and consult lawyera upon every one of tneir important actions ?' 'I am overwhelmed,'said the good woman. She wont home far more wretched than when she had started—albeit in the interval sho had heard of a legacy of seventy thousand pounds. It was as the lawyer feared. There was no clause in John Gibson's will bequeathing his fortune to his niece for her individual, sole, and separate use, and as there was no settlement, and as Gibson had died the day before his niece's wedding, it was very clear that the comparatively unknown bridegroom was master of the fortune. Lloyd was more fortunate than even he had anticipated. Be had quite counted upon the two thousand pounds, but he had never soared above enjoying conjoiutly with bis wife the fortune of the unole, whom he had known abroad. It was the information as to John Gibson's testamentary intentions (whiah Kvan Lloyd had learnt from the man himself) that had prompted him to eeok out the coming heiress, and to obtain an introduction to her through the medium of his position as a lodger in her mother's house. That was his simple plan to possess a groat fortune. He obtained his lodging in the house by knocking one fine afternoon at the door, and then pretending to have mistaken the number. He had thereupon exprostei the happiness ho should feel in lodging in so pleasant a homo, and—in a word—he paved his way to becoming master of John Gibson's wealth. But the great charm for him took the shape cf wonderment at becoming so suddenly tho completo and sole owner of this vast wealth. He had known John Gibson was doomfid ; that he wos RufFaiing from a mortal com plaint. But he never anticipated fortune would bo so kind, as on tho one hand to save him from the chance of losing this wealth by its accruing to Ellen before the marriage (whoa she might change her mind), and on the other hand to favour him by the accident that his wife should unknowingly inherit her fortune before marriage—by which chance, thoro being no marriage settlement, the fortune would become his. Ho determined to olaim and to hold possession cf every penny of that seventy thousand pounds, and what la more (the demon of greed holding him by the throat), he insisted upon immediate payment of the two thousand pounds doe from Mrs Gibion to

Ellen immediately upon the marriage of the latter. In event of Evan Lloyd deserting the women, they would be nothing l-etter for the uncle's fortune, while in relation t> their own money thoy would bo two thou sand pounds the poorer. This was the poßition in whioh Mra Gibson's insane desire to see her daughter married had placed them. Three weeks after the marriage a time sufficient for the discovery on Nellie's part that her husband had no affection for her—the man informed his two victims that his mother was worse, and that he must crot s the channel. * Let me come with you,' said Nellie. 'No.' he eaid. impetuously, ' she does n'it know lam married. The shock might kill her.' Th-en days after there came an imperative command from Paris directing thai all the money acoroing under the Gibson bequest ahou'd be sent him to Paris, nt tho earliest opportunity which the law.er could find. On the evening of the day upon which this letter arrived the silent and desolate house was suddenly startled from its sobriety by a rattling knock at the door. The girl Mary had been sent into the town for some necessaries, aud the already deserted and impoverished, wife opened the door. 'Nellie, dear,' said a oheery voice. 'I have made my fortune ; my sheep brought me in seventeen thousand pounds last year, and they will bring me in twenty thousand pounds this. There are heaps of fellows make as much in Australia.' Ho had learnt these words by heart, and recited them many ani many a starlight night coming home on the P. and O. steamer, aud as, unable to sleep, he sat under the canvas partition whioh bounded tho smoking compartment on the quarter deck. ' And now kiss me,' h 9 said, ' for I am come to take you home to Australia,' She did not recognise the slim youth in the strong and oheery, determined-looking man before her. He saw no marked change in her. t>he stood mute, horror-otrieken, overwhelmed with the weight of the error she hid committed. • I—l am married, Jess9,' Bhe said at last, in a strange voioe. tie suddenly leant against a door-post of the villa. But he said in a short time, and in quite a steady voice, ' How long have yon been married ?' ' Not a month,' she replied, in a voice of utter despair. ' L'ird pity ma,' he said, 'if I had not miffsed the last boat!' For, keen man as he was, he did not require to be told that her marriage was a failure. ' Where is ho?' he asked. ' H» ha" gone away to Paris—will you not come in?' ' Yes,' he said sorrowfully. What a 'coming home' it was. Yet in the depths of his despair he only reproached himself that he had clung to his boyish promise not to return or write to her until he was on the high road to fortnne. 'Mother,' she said, opening the door of the little parlor, where sat Mrs Gibson ; ' mother, here is Jesre oome home.' Poor creature. She was far more affected that her daughter. It was a disconsolate meeting. • Well, mother,' at last s»id the roughseeming, careless, and burly honest-looking young Australian m'llioDalre—'l have no home but this, and while I am in England I hope I may stay with you. lam afraid I shall not trouble you long ' • Certainly, Jesse,' said the poor repentant woman, all trembling; " certainly, I have always looked upon you a 3 one of the family. You will stay with us while you are at home. I You mean from home—my home is in Australia. Or rather was. for lam afraid it is broken up now, mother.' 'Sit down,' tays »llia, ' I will get you some tea.' Tea—it is always an honest woman's oonsolation in all her afflictions, a cup of tea. She was glad to escape from the room. Then Jesse spoke more freely. ' I hope ho is a good husband. Is he doing well ? If not I'll help him if he likes—you do not look very well off h^re—excuse my roughness. It's a way we have iu the colony. Is he poor ?—what is he ?' 'We are not poor,' said Mrs Gibson; 'on the oontrary, we have become very rioh; an unole has left .fallen £70,C00 But her husband claims it all as his.' ' Why is he in Paris. Is he a Frenohy V ' No, his name is Evan Lloyd. It is a Welsh name.' ' But why does ha go to Paris ?' ' Bis father imd mother are there.' 'Why doeßn't he take his wife with him?* M's Gibson shood hor head. the keen fearless, if unpolshed, Australian sheep farmer shook his head, •Heis a bad one, mother. Bat you rely on me. I'll pull you through, and if the worst comes to the worst, you must go back both of you—all thrae of you, if you like, to Australia. I'm not jealous, though lam cut .up a bit severe. If he wants help, lam there. I'll do it for hor sake, for I'm all alone—all alone in the world.' Three weeks after the arrival of Jesse Timet in England he was on his way to Par's, practically as the agent of poor Mrs Gibson, to ascertain why Evan Lloyd did not return to England or wiite to his wife. Ho had been too busy making his fortune to have improved his education, and therefore he did not Bpeak a word of French. It waß was necessary to employ an interpreter, and armed with this conversational help he started for Passy, having once reached Paris. The house of the elder Lloyd was scon fonnd. A crowd wis seen about the gate-entrance, which was occupied by a carriage. 'ltis a wedding going on,' eaid the interpreter. Jessie directing him to make inquiries, the amazed Australian heard that one Evan Lloyd was about to be married to a young French heiress. No —although he had an English or rather Welsh name, he was not British. He had been born in France. And as his father had become a naturalised Frenchman immediately after his marriage with a Parisian laiy, the son was essentially a Frenchman, although he spoke English like an Englishman. That unfortunate Australian followed to the churoh, and svsv the man who not two mcmiis previously had married Ellen Gibson in England, go through the oeremony of marriage with a French girl in a parish church. The hapless man dropped in a state of unconsciousness. When he recovered, he learnt from his interpreter that the marri ige party had entered the sacristy for the purpose of signing the usual documents. The ceremony was over. He waited therefore until the marriage party left the registry, and then he said, as the white-faoed bridegroom was passing—- ' Scoundrel—how long is it since you were married in England ?' Amongst the whole marriage party only the bridegroom and his father spoke Kn«lish. The bridegroom turned angrily—to see only a stranger. I I was her lover, you sto",e her from me, »nd now you desert the poor girl.' ' Stand on one side, fellow.' • Fellow 1* The next moment the church was echoing with cries of alarm and with piercing shrieks, for the strange rough-looking man had sent the miserable bridegroom sprawling. Need It be sail that the luckless Australian was arrested and taken to the nearest Btation-house ? Next day, before the 'Judge of First Instance,' he explained the circumstances. The Judge shook his head, and said (through Jesse's faithful interpreter), ' all this Is very sad,' but there is no remedy. We do not recognise the marriage of young Frenchmen, while out of France, to foreign women ; tell the prisoner he is at liberty.' The Australian (much cast down) then and there, despite bis interpreter's entreaties, insisted upon calling upon the elder Lloyd. Having heard all the e'reumsfcances, the father said—'l am a legtl Frenchman —bo is my ton French law does not recognise the marriage of a French subject abroad, unless the proper legal permlesion on the part of the father and mother has been given. I never gave that permission. I would rather die than see my son the husband of an English woman.' ' But he is,' saidTilset. 'He is—in England. In France he was my unmarried son yesterday morning. By mid-day he was the husband of a Frenchwoman.' ' But ho has oommitted bigamy!' ' Not in Franoe. He may be a bigamist in the eye of English law.' * Bnt he has taken his English wife's fortu-.e.'

'lf England permits him to do this, so mnoh the worse for England.* And with this shameful news the hapless Australian millionaire roturned to England. Need it be said that recourse was had to Mr Summerby, the Lincoln's Inn Fields lawyer. 1 Yes,' said the lawyer, 'it is bo. If English girls will be so rash as to marry foreigners, especially Frenchmen, they mast bear with the consequences." ' But, air,' said Jesse, pleading probably for himself, ' cannot my poor friend obtain a divorce ?' ' Wo, for he has not deserted her, since he sends yon, Mrs JLloyd, a miserable pound a week. The Fnglluh law can take no cognioance of his behaviour out of England. At l»w your husband has done you no harm. He is here your legal husband, and can claim in England all his legal rights over you, whilo he correspondents with you, and sends you money, no matter how little. And at the same time h 9 Is in France legally the husband of the French girl he has married.' ' But cannot we prevent him taking all our property P ' ' No, by a cruel chain of cirocmsfcanees he is absolute master of your daughter's fortune. ' 'lf that is English law,' said Jesse, 'I advise you two to come with me to Australia and live amongst my droves of pheep ' • Th*i is precisely what I should advise them to do. Mr Tilset,' said the lawyer, 'though it is very imjTi per loga! ativice. Your husband, Mrs Lloyd, has you and your property completely in his power, sni at law, while he supplies yon with the bare necessaries of life you have no remedy agaicst him what«over. This comes of marrying a foreigner.' * I thought him an Englishman!'said the poor slrl. ' You should never think, my dear young lady ; you should make sure I str ngly advise you to escape (that is the word) from England—with your mother be it understood, and to sc:ept Mr Tilset's offer. Your husband has really deserved you ; his French wife will be wretched, so debauched is he ; and the man will spend every penny of your fortune before he dies of dissipation.' The two womea, poor victims, took the lawyer's advice and fled from England—under the guardianship of Mr Tilset. Unfortunately, Mrs Gibson died within the year. It would be useless to record here the resu't of the scandalous condition of international marriage law between France and Eigland as it affected Ellen's pos'tion in Australia. Both she and Jes-e were honestly the vie tim of a legal complication of the most monstrous kind. Happily, as these lines are written, such compensation as the present can make to the pa-t has been marie, and Kllen, widow of Evan Lloyd, is the wife of Jesse Tilset. But they are not received in the bent Australian society. The ruffian Evan Lloyd died bb the lawyer anticipated he would expire, of sheer dissipation. Long before his death he deserted his Freooh wife. When he laid down his worthless life every per ny of Nellie's legacy had been spent. It is to be hoped that the time is soon coming when the two countries, France and England, will come to this simple and natural arrangement that a marriage recognised as legal in the country where it is contracted, shall be accepted as legal in the other. In the meantime, every English girl who marries a young Frenchman under twenty-five, and without the written permission of his father and mother—and (possibly) even his grandparents—ia his wife in England only. In France Bh9 is his mistress. Here hus been set out some account of the life of a woman who by nature and inclination was perfectly uptight and honourable. ■ut the combined action of the l*w of France and of England in relation to her maniage, mined her, disgraced her, robbed her legally of every penny ehe hud in the world. Finally it forced her away to Australia under conditions of social degradation which this woman (most honest at heart) will never surmount. fcfer life should be a warning to avoid marriage with Frenchmen—except where the lawyers settle preliminaries Even nnder those circumstances such a marriage is not likely to be too happy.