Our Bohemia

Front matter

OUR BOHEMIA. OUR BOHEMIA. By MABEL COLLINS, AUTHOR OF '■AV INNOCENT SINNER," " TN THIS WORLD," ETC. " You shall see great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia." — Winter's Tale. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON : TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. J879. [All Jiights Reserved."} PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., 10, TITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. CONTENTS. PAGE. THE SISTERS OF LEPE WATER ... 1 A FAMILY PARTY 53 "MUMMY" . 187 THE DARK HOUSE ON THE MOOR . . 205 OUT OF HER SPHERE PAET I. (Continued). People whose lives are full of adventure, of amusement, of interests, would scarcely be able to comprehend how that letter, as it lay upon the breakfast table around which the three inmates of Lepe "Water House were gathered, was gazed at and wondered about. Arthur, cowardly and sorrowful, let it lie beside his plate for a quarter of an hour, while he drank two great cups of tea ; for he had learned to fear, now, what he might hear of, or from, the brother who had been his long-time hero.

Margaret devoured 1 A7OL. it with her eyes, as if the very sight of his handwriting were food and drink to her. Eose, looking up from her presidency over the old-fashioned hissing urn, saw that her husband had done the very unusual thing of leaving his letter unread. "Why, Arthur! fancy not having opened your letter yet ! " she exclaimed, laughingly. He did not answer her. Surprised, she looked again, and saw that he sat gloomily looking down upon his plate. Glancing across at Margaret, who was opposite him, she saw that her handsome sister was lean ing back in her chair, a hectic spot of colour in the centre of each sallow cheek ; and that her breakfast stood untasted. Rose had not sufficient brains to attempt putting things together. But she was now cast down, as she had been many a time before, by something in the atmosphere which she did not understand.

Finishing her meal in silence she left the room to go about her household duties just as Arthur at length decided to open his letter. He rose im mediately and went to his own room. He could not endure to read this letter from his brother alone with Margaret. And Margaret, her cheeks still burning, sat still as a carven figure. But by-and-bye her senses began to arouse to the fact that there was a commotion in the house. She heard Rose crying ; and a few minutes after she heard the front door open and close. Starting up, she saw Arthur, a small bag in his hand, pass the window very quickly. What did this mean ? An explanation was close at hand. Almost immediately Rose entered the room crying, 1—2 and sinking into a cmair, sobbed out that Arthur had received • a summons to go to Eonald, who was lying dangerously ill in France, and that he had rushed off in the hope of catching a certain boat.

Part II

It is a grey morning in the city of London. Foggy, of course — when is that SAveet city wholly free from its own exhalations ? "What a detestable morning," is the remark of a gentleman who is wandering to and fro in an aimless way in a sitting-room, which, though it looks out upon a London street, is as cheerful and inviting as bachelor's sitting-rooms often are. Its occupant was a tolerably good-looking young man, of medium height and gentle manly appearance, well dressed and wearing an air of prosperity. But just now he looked eminently dissatisfied with circumstances. He moved from one window to the other ; then took out his Avatch ; then repeated his inspection of the street. "This hateful London, full of fog, it's enough to make a man expect to be refused ; and that child, in the sunny country, plays with my hopes like this — will not even write to end my suspense.

It is too late now for the postman, be must have passed, and I shall be confoundedly late at the office." He turned from another long look up the street, and slowly took his hat and prepared to go out. But he put it down again for a moment, as if the effort was too preafc. " Has she been playing with me ? " he said to himself, and his face altered and grew dark at the thought. " Am I being punished as I deserved for supposing that such a man as her father could rear an innocent girl ? Had she been the tender, sweet woman she seemed, she would have felt for the man AA7ho had laid his soul open to her in that letter ; she could not have kept me two whole days in suspense. I can have no letter now until to-morrow. It is the cruelty of a heartless woman to keep me like this — the cruelty of a panther rather than a woman.

I have admired her father's clever description of the panther woman — the being who charms only to destroy — and then have blindly fallen a victim. She let me learn to love her, now she is silent. I am well punished." He took up his hat gloomily. He must go and face the world of the city, which, busied with its eternal money-making, takes no count of a man's love affairs. He had an expression on his face which must leave it before he went into the street. He paused a second before a mirror, making a rather ghastly effort at re-modelling his expression. Then he went boldly out. " I shall come in to lunch," he said to his landlady, as he met her on the stairs. " The country post might be late ! " he said to himself, like a faint-hearted fool. For, be a man as brave as concentrated John Bullism can make him at other times, he is timid and hesitating when thoroughly in love.

At all events, Charlie Newman found it very difficult to turn round and believe Lil, the girl he loved, the bright, bewitching child of a man of genius, to be nothing but a heartless coquette, the original ofthe woman of the Avorld whom her father had painted to that world's admiration. And so he went to his business saying to himself, with the strange freshness of feeling with which men produce hackneyed sentiments when they are called forth by their own lives, " If that child is a panther, I will never believe in a woman again." He had a long morning before he could go back to lunch ; he must distract his mind from the great question of the faithfulness of woman and fix it upon questions of finance. The money market is as unstable as a woman's affections ; and the two great subjects of finance and the feminine nature are too large to occupy a male mind at one and the same time.

So — even though he was on the agony point — though he had proposed and been neither accepted or refused — Charlie had to follow the example of other business men, and put his soul and his heart out of court for a certain number of hours. It Avas more difficult than usual, as indeed might be expected. It was impossible to shut out from his mind the thought of Lil Warrington and his sickening anxiety. Over and over again he revieAved his position, and recalled every word and look of hers during a scene Avhich had occurred between them but a couple of days before. It was on the lawn of a country house, from which he had just returned. Lil Warrington had been staying there too. She was only eighteen ; slender, quiet, independent. The ladies liked her, but thought her education had been sadly neglected, and that it was absurd for such a child to have a decided taste in dress — it made her peculiar.

The gentlemen said she was a little blue-stocking, but a capital girl all the same. Charlie NeAvman thought her unlike anyone else he knew ; and before he had formed any further opinion about her, found himself proposing marriage on the lawn. And Lil's answer had been this — he knew every word of it, and the look in her brown eyes as she said it : " But I don't think you and papa would ever get on ; and I can't possibly marry anybody that didn't get on with papa." Charlie was a little taken aback at first, and stood pulling his moustache ; but roused by a gleam of fun in Lil's eyes, he had answered her thus : ' ' And must I get on with grandmamma, too?" " It doesn't so much matter," said Lil ; "for I can't get on with her myself." "Then it's only papa. Well, let me ask him." " Oh, he Avill let me marry anybody that I want to.

But I couldn't marry anybody he didn't like ; and I am not sure he likes you." She had said this seriously, reflectively, looking up at Charlie She caught a slight amused smile under his moustaches. She Avas provoked. " He says you're a prig," she Avent on. (" Could she be a panther ? " thought Gharlie, remembering this. " If so she had not acquired the dangerous smoothness Avhich Avould have made her polite to her lover even when she was crushing him.'") " He says you are a prig ; and I am not quite sure yet whether he is right or not." " He calls me a prig ? " repeated Charlie, coolly. "Well, such a bold Bohemian as Brough Warrington can perhaps afford to throw stones at those who do not care to sin against the respectabilities of life quite to the extent he does." (Yes, it was rude ; and there had been a sneer in his voice.

But he belonged to a respectable world in which Brough War rington, if admired, was disapproved. He ought not to have sneered ; but Lil had provoked him.) She raised her eyes from the flowers in her hand, where they had found a refuge from meeting Charlie's gaze, and looked him in the face. He was in earnest — yes — the sneer was not assumed, as for a second she had hoped ; he was not just teasing her. She turned, and without speaking walked in her most dignified manner to the house. And slender Lil, who was called by her father's friends the " little Queen of Bohemia," could be absolutely dignified when she liked. Charlie followed her slowly. He thought she would turn. She did not. Indeed, she could not, for the tears hacl brimmed over her eyes and were treacherously wetting her cheeks. She already began to realise the trial of this first difficult experience of hers.

She was not quite sure whether she was in lov7e with Mr. Newman ; yet she could not find words to refuse him. And he was so earnestly and thoroughly in love with her that she momently liked him more and more. But would it ever be possible for such dissimilar natures as Brough Warrington, the jovial literary lion, and Charles Newman, a scholarly, but, as Brough had said of him. rather priggish young gentleman of the modern school, to hit it off together? She was close to the steps of the house. She wiped up her tears adroitly, for she heard voices — there were people standing there. Luckily for her it Avas twilight. " Miss Warrington — you won't go without a word ! " The voice behind her was so intensely earnest that it brought tears to the foolish child's eyes again. She could not trust her self to speak — she ran quickly past the group on the steps and went to her room, where she locked herself in until the dinner bell rang.

Charlie must go back to London the next day. He had to go early, to reach his office, as his holiday -making was at an end. He had gone Avhen she came down to breakfast ; but he left her a letter Avhich, though it had filled but a page of note paper, had taken him half the night to write. He was still waiting for the answer. Lil had been quite scared at the amount of passion he had concentrated on the page in question. She sought out her hostess and said she must go home ; the lady, looking in the child's clear face, half guessed the cause, and let her go quietly. Pale, and almost frightened, she packed up her things ready to be driven to the station. She was very glad to go. She wanted to talk to Brough. Alone with him at home, perhaps she would knoAv better what to do. For, not only was she troubled by the fact that she did not think her father liked Charlie, but she did not understand her own feelings.

A girl of that age, who has not been pre cociously developed in a hotbed of flirtation, finds it difficult to believe herself in love. There is something so tender, uncertain, in tangible, in the dawning of love in an un tried innocent heart. " I don't believe I'm in love a bit," said Lil to herself; " and yet — oh, dear, I can't refuse him." This was a perplexing position for a straightforward young lady like Lil. She did not enjoy cross currents of feeling ; and now she was in a more chaotic state than she had ever been in her life. What should she do? " I'll talk to papa," she said. " I shall get home to dinner. Charlie must wait a post. Yes, surely papa will be able to help me." While Lil was travelling, thinking, and perplexing herself, and sometimes crying a little in the corner of her carriage, Brough was walking about his river-encircled garden, looking fierce and disconsolate.

He had sat down that morning to engage upon the crisis of a new book, when he was disturbed by a knock at the door. " What's the matter ? " asked he, with the frown of arrested thought on his forehead. An idea 8 VOL. had just come to him, and he tried to hold fast by its skirts, and prevent its escape, while he dealt with the unwelcome interrup tion. " If you please, sir," said the stout little housekeeper, who did her best to hold the reins of the somewhat reckless animals that pulled the Warrington turn-out, "was it to-day you said Mrs. Warrington was coming ? and what room shall I prepare for her ? " Brough groaned. " The thing's impossible ! " he exclaimed, " she can't come when there's no one to pro tect me ! Oh, ye gods ! I shall be con- Arerted before Lil comes home ! " The housekeeper merely curtseyed and waited, as decorously as might be.

She was accustomed to her master's unintelligible soliloquies. " Mrs. March," he said, gravely, after a pause, " send me a small bottle of sparkling Moselle from the cellar. The news you bring has been a shock to me, and scattered every idea I had. And if Mrs. Warrington insists upon coming, prepare the most mag nificent room we possess — or, if you think it would please her, you might make up several beds for her. Send me the wine directly, there's a good soul ; I feel quite ill." Mrs. March retired to carry out her orders. " The old lady is coming to-day, as far as I can make out," said she to the man-servant, when she was sending him in with the wine ; " but the master doesn't like it at all, with Miss Lil away. 1 hope she'll come home before the week's out, for he'll be in a terrible temper if he has the old lady to himself too long ! '' 8—2 After making one draught of a pint of sparkling wine, Brough applied himself to his work again, and did not move from his table until the afternoon.

But then he went out in the garden for a stretch ; and, while walking about, he suddenly remembered afresh that his respected mother was coming that very afternoon to stay with him. It was bad enough when she monopolised Lil — but with no one to interpose between these radically opposite dispositions, what a bore it would be ! He had no idea that at that very moment Lil was preparing to start home, and thus, unintentionally (for she had not heard of Gran's projected visit), was coming to his rescue. And so he walked round and round the lawn, his two greyhounds following him, trying to bring him self to a properly filial state of mind. It is odd how unsuccessful people generally are when they try to produce a mental state. The more Brousii endeavoured to feel as he ought in the expectation of his mother's advent, the more rebellious he became, until, when at last a fly from the station approached and crossed the bridge which joined the island (on which stood his cottage and garden) to the banks of the river, he walked round to the front door with a feeling as if a personal injury was being done him.

" I would have come down in the boat," he said, as he handed his mother out of the fly, " to fetch you from the station, if I had known what train you would come by." Now this was an unpromising beginning, for Gran regarded the boating to which her graceless offspring were addicted as a sheer tempting of Providence. She took no notice of the remark, and welcomed her son with that peculiar solemnity which can only be expressed by italics. " My dear son," she said, as soon as she had reached the ground safely, " how are you ? " " Oh, I'm all right," responded Brough, rather vaguely, as he leaned down that she might imprint an emphatic kiss upon his cheek. And then the two entered the queer old house which was Brough's home. They moved slowly, for Gran was grown stiff in her movements. Mother and son were wonderfully alike ; but Gran stooped very much and looked carefully on the ground as she walked, while Brough stalked along with his head in the air, and a curious sort of attempt at ease and unconsciousness upon his face.

He was much relieved to find Mrs. March just inside, and was very glad to hand the old lady over to her for a time. He had no idea how to welcome his mother. When a weary traveller arrived his first idea was to offer him " a bottle of fizz," or a brandy and soda ; but he had found by ex perience that Gran was only horrified at such hospitality. So, in a crest-fallen way, he silently surrendered his guest to Mrs. March's tender mercies, who, more versed in old ladyish tastes, soon suggested a cup of tea. So Gran, rather against the grain (for lal e dinner and afternoon tea, not having been customs in the home of her youth, were to her mind domestic irregularities), had some tea in her room, viewing from her window meanwhile the still perambulating form of her son. He was walking off his inhospitable feelings, under the trees of his garden.

He would have gone for a row if there had been anybody to take him ; but Lil, alas, was not there, and the man-servant was not to be found. And he never rowed himself. He was not really inhospitable or un filial; he admired his staunch old mother, and in some respects found her pleasant company. For he had got much of his genius from her. The old lady had a mother wit of her own, though it was generally kept in the background. But what he did dislike was her assumption that because he did not "profess religion," he was lost for ever. It made him feel des perate when she approached the dread sub ject of salvation. He had wild thoughts of asking his nearest neighbour, Lady Lynne, to dinner. But it was too late for that, so, as the dinner hour approached, he assumed an air of reck less bravery, and went in-doors.

His mother was established in a high backed armchair, with some crochet work in her lap. " I had no idea Lil was away from home when I said I would come over," said she. as Brough entered. " I hope I have not put you out in coming?" " Not in the least, my dear mother, not in the least ! I daresay Mrs. March will be able to make you comfortable." " Oh, 1 need very little to make me com fortable," said the old lady ; " but I hope I shall not be in your way." " Certainly not," said Brough, and then with a desperate effort to change the con versation, "Have you seen my last book ? " "No," she said, "I have not. I read something of the one before, but I found no edification from it. You see, my son, I have no longer any time to take interest in the trivialities of life. I find my Bible is enough for me to read."

Brough walked off on the excuse of looking into the dining-room to see if dinner was ready. He was thankful to find it was ; and returned to escort his mother to the table. It is probable that since Brough, as a very naughty little boy already evincing a decided objection to Old Testament quotations on all relevant or irrelevant occasions, had been the troublesome hero of his mother's house, they had never dined alone together. Brough, had he not been too absent-minded, would have laid any deep plot to avoid it now ; for he already saw that the flavour of the splendid saddle of mutton which formed the promi nent feature of the little dinner wo aid be entirely spoiled to his sensitive palate by the disapproving and stern presence of his parent. The boyish jollity which made Brough beloved of his friends, fled affrighted before the elderly lady's solemn smile.

"This seems capital mutton," he re marked, as he began to carve, merely for the sake of saying something. He thought to himself, " Surely dinner is a safe subject — most people are moderately interested in their mutton." But the remark was met by dead silence; and looking across at his mother he received a shock in seeing that her head was bowed, and her eyes closed, while her countenance was wrapped in solemnity. He was quite alarmed for a second ; but almost immediately she raised her head and said, in her ordinary manner, " It looks so, indeed ; how much a pound do you give ? " "I really don't know," said Brough, seriously. " Is it exactly the appropriate moment to discuss it, immediately after saying grace ? If I thank the Lord for my dinner, I don't quite like to look a gift horse in the mouth."

" God helps those who help themselves," remarked Gran, dryly. " Ah — perhaps so ! Jim, ask Mrs. March how much the mutton is a pound." " Yes, sir," said Jim, the nondescript man-servant, with a grin. " But, my dear mother, you are not drinking anything. Do have another glass of sherry, if you won't have any claret ? " " No, thank you ; one glass of wine is all I require in the day," replied Gran, looking rather seriously at the bottle of light claret which was rapidly disappearing under Brough's patronage. A silence ensued. Gran was thinking whether the subject of sending Lil to a Christian finishing school might be intro duced this evening ; as she seemed likely to have her son to herself for a day or two, she thought she might, without any undue neglect of her opportunities, leave a further attempt to reclaim him from the errors of his ways until to-morrow.

" Have you thought about Lil's education, as you said you would ? " she began. " The dear child is growing up so rapidly, and you know, my son, she really needs some attention." Brough pushed his chair back and held a glass of claret up to the light, looking for a moment at its colour before he drank it off. " My dear mother," he said slowly, but with an impatient frown, " I said I would give more thought to Lil's education. So I have. I'll guarantee that there is no better educated girl iuall England." Gran lifted her mittened hands with the slow movement which was habitual to her, and which indicated a suppressed horror. Then she shook her head with slow emphasis. " She is a wild 'romp at an age when she ought to be a decorous young lady — you have only to look at her hair to see that — how often have I tried to pursuade her to put it in a net, so that folk should not think she had just been playing blind man's buff! — but no, she will not — and she knows nothing useful of any kind.

What good does it do her to spend hours in reading these infidel writers that she is always full of; how will they help to make her a good girl ? — a useful woman ? — a Christian soul? It is not too late yet, my son. Let her go to Miss Miller, a dear Christian friend of mine, who will, I am sure, do her utmost to re claim the poor child " " Oh, papa ! — and grandmamma ! " Gran's solemn, emphasised speech, had been gradually producing an extraordinary effect upon Brough. At first he had only frowned — but, as the stream of her de liberate eloquence flowed on, he gathered himself together as if momentarily medi tating bodily flight. But the whole man changed as the unexpected interrupting voice fell upon his ear. " Why— Baby ! " There was a whole world of welcome in the two short words. Lil rushed at him, and did her best to smother herself in his capacious embrace.

" Dear old boy ! " she exclaimed, as at length she emerged, her wild fair curls rather touzled, and then suddenly remem bering Gran, and seeing that the words which she had often heard in childhood, " No kiss for grandmamma ? " were on her lips, she ran and gave her a dutiful caress. " And what has brought the baby back in such a hurry, I wonder ? " asked Brough, as he poured her wine, and carved her mutton, and after his fashion made her welcome. " Why, I've come home for ad " Lil began her answer quickly, and as quickly pulled herself up ere it was finished. It was all very well to come home and get advice from papa — but — here was grandmamma into the bargain. That was a trifle too much. Lil was not equal to laying her case before a committee — and such a committee. There was an embarrassing pause.

Lil, looking on her plate, flushed under the con sciousness of Gran's serious and wondering scrutiny ; and her poor little brain was all bewildered. " What am I to do ? " she was thinking. How she wished Gran were comfortably in her own armchair, in her own cottage, so that she might have her father all to her self to talk out her perplexities with. Brough broke the awkward pause by leaning back in his chair, and beginning to speak reflectively : "Let's see — what begins with ad ? Admirers? well, no. Adversity? No, I don't think that'll do. Adventures — not many to be found on this island. It strikes vol. in. me it's a toss-up between adulation and ad monishment — eh, Baby ? which is it ?" The corners of Lil's mouth had gone down with a queer little suggestion of the possibility of tears. " There, we won't tease it," said Brough, observing these symptoms ; " at least, if the Baby will eat it's dinner, we won't." But Gran still looked solemn and sat silent, having completed her slight meal.

What was this secret of Lil's? Knowing her granddaughter to be unconverted as yet to her own special form of faith, she lived in continual expectation of some defi nite and dreadful evil appearing in the child's character. The remainder of the meal passed off in a very stiff and silent way. Lil, who gener ally oiled the wheels of conversation when this family party were assembled, could not bring herself to talk. The evening was not amusing. Grand mamma liked to keep Lil by her side, with the unconscious selfishness of aged and in firm persons. She talked to her in her slow Avay, her eyes upon her knitting, so that the expression of Lil's face was lost upon her. Brough saw it ; something was wrong with the Baby. What on earth did she want at home that began with ad .... ? He would have asked her very quickly had Gran not been there But Gran was an incontestable fact ; he could not do away with her.

So he played with the greyhounds ; roamed about, looking a little out of sorts, and then left the women and took to his work. Grandmamma's room was next Lil's, opening into it. She liked that, as Mrs. March had luckily remembered, when her 9—2 master left her to her own devices in the matter of preparation. Gran also liked to have the door open and to talk to Lil. She really was deeply attached to the girl ; apart from the pleasure she found in de pendence upon her youth and strength, and the unconscious delight in her healthy vitality, she desired to win Lil's heart. She had never succeeded, though Lil was fairly dutiful. She had shown the child many sides of her character, and Lil had decided that she liked Gran best when she was " funny." The old lady could be wonderfully witty ; but it was with a kind of gloomy humour, which, in some of Lil's moods, had more fascination for her than ordinary fun.