The Queen of Bohemia. A novel

Front matter

THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA. a Xobel. By JOSEPH HATTON. IN TWO VOLUMES, VOL. II. LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1877. {All rights reserved. ) CONTENTS OF VOL. II. GHAI'TER PAGE I. Lost in the Mighty Crowd of London ... ... ... i II. After Three Years ... ... 24 III. A Wreck on Shore ... ... 44 IV. Waiting for the Tide ... 66 V At Sea ... ... ... ... 81 VI. Round the World and Home again 102 VII. A First Night ... •... 125 VIII. What Mrs. Toynbee said ... 151 IX. What Mr. Douglas said ... 184 X. Between the Acts ... ... 209 XL The Dead Man's Letter ... 234 XII. Another Queen ... ... ... 253 XIII. Glimpses of Heaven .. . ... 278 XIV. A Surprise, with Pistols in it ... 296 XV. What the Bells said ...

Chapter I. Lost In The Mighty Crowd Of London

Christmas came to Mr. Douglas in prison, notwithstanding the efforts of Dr. Atkins and Mr. Detective Marples, and the legal skill and influence of Messrs. Wigram, Jones, and Bolderoe, Lord Rokeby's solicitors, who, acting upon their noble client's latest instructions to serve Mr. Douglas in any way, if the opportunity offered, had tendered their assistance through Dr. Atkins, who had gladly embraced their aid. The coroner's jury, while recording a verdict of " wilful murder against some VOL. II. B person or persons unknown," altogether repudiated the suggestion of Mr. In spector Barker, that Mr. Douglas had had a hand in it. But this energetic and obstinate policeman, stimulated almost to desperation by the presence of Detective Marples, and fired still further by the interference of the county police, who had started an opposing theory, and resented Mr. Barker being in the case at all — this local demon of office insisted upon drag ging Mr. Douglas before the magistrates ; and as a special winter assize, or gaol delivery, had been fixed for the county, to open a few days after Christmas, the magistrates thought it would relieve them of a great deal of trouble and responsibility if they committed Mr. Douglas for trial at these assizes, the hardship of which delay would only be a small matter, seeing that the time between committal and trial was so very short.

Maggie behaved " like a heroine," Dr. Atkins said. She was allowed to visit her father every day, and Mrs. Desborough would not be separated from her. Mr. Detective Marples assured Maggie, on his honour and experience, that her father was in no danger. She had questioned him concerning her father's position be fore giving her evidence at the magis terial inquiry and afterwards, and she led him to understand that more rested upon his opinion than mere affectionate anxiety for her father. He puzzled himself a good deal thinking that she knew more about the burglary than she admitted. Inspector Barker openly insinuated before the magistrates that she must have seen the burglar, and that her emphatic assurance that she could not identify the man if she saw him again, cast a suspicious reflection upon her evidence.

But Maggie never wavered in her story. She was inflexible. She did not see the man's face ? No ! She would swear it. Did she not tell Mr. Barker that she saw it ? Yes ; but that she could not see it well enough to say what kind of a face it was. She looked round upon the court with the innocent expression of truth, as she described the height and character of the man she saw, exactly the reverse of what it really was. So long as she felt assured that her father was in no imme diate danger she was determined to shield the man she had loved, at the cost of truth and honour, and she found some little re ward in the affectionate devotion of that man's doting mother. But at night, in the solitude of her own chamber, Maggie lay prostrate, in an agony of misery, praying for forgiveness and guidance.

Dr. Atkins explained that it was better for the case to go before a jury. Mr. Marples confessed that he was surprised that the magistrates had committed the prisoner. This had shaken Maggie's faith in his opinion, because he had promised that her father should be a free man before sunset, and now he could not possibly be free until the assizes ; and would the cruel fate which had brought him to Oswald House at such an unfor tunate moment, still hold him in its grip ? Maggie could ask no advice in her severe difficulty ; she dared not confide in any one ; she could only seek for help at the throne of grace, and she went there with perjury on her soul. She had taken a false oath, but she argued, in her childlike way, that her sin could not be so great, or she would repent of it ; and she found no in clination to repent.

She only wavered at all in her obstinate position when she thought that the truth might release her father ; and then it came upon her that as both Barker and Marples said two men had been engaged in the affair, the dis covery of one through her evidence might not be construed into further suspicion against her innocent father. What a sad and wretched plight the poor girl was in ; and Lord Rokeby was playing at deck quoits with Arthur Welland under a warm sun, on the other side of the equator. Miss Juniper had been to Oswald House to inquire after Maggie frequently, and with a secret in her heart winch she did not know* what to do with. A strange man, with a warrant, had presented himself at her house, and taken possession of Mr. Douglas's rooms. The poor woman did not like to tell Maggie, and she had not sense enough to go and consult Dr. Atkins or the solicitors.

Mr. Inspector Barker had been there to search the place. He knew all about it, and Miss Higglestock had been to inquire if it were true, but Miss Juniper had not enlightened her. And so the clouds lowered dark and thick upon the house of Douglas, while the Christmas bells seemed to be ringinoso o o merrily for the world in general. Magoie *' o OO sat with her head in Mrs. Desborouo-h's O lap as their music came across the snow from Bishopstown. They sat together in Mrs. Desborough's room, and they prayed together one earnest, united prayer for all prisoners and captives, but more especially for that innocent one, Maggie's dear white- ' OO haired father, awaiting his trial, and lying within the shadow of an unjust suspicion ; and when Mrs. Desborough mentioned in her supplications her exiled son, and prayed that he might be forgiven his sins, Maggie said " Amen," but she wept tears of dread and shame when the unsuspecting mother prayed for his speedy return to her longing arms.

On Christmas Day they went to church together, and all eyes were turned upon them, some in sympathy, some with curious glances, worshipping there together and listening with tearful eyes to the words of the new minister, who had only the day before read the solemn service of the dead over the murdered rector's coffin. Some people blamed Mrs. Desborough for her partisanship in regard to the Douglases ; others admired her, and were never tired of praising her noble character; while some looked upon her rising up from a sick bed to almost robust health, as an inter position of Divine Providence on behalf of the innocent, and more particularly that Maggie Douglas might have in the hour oo o o of her tribulation the comfort and help of a second mother. In due time the winter assize com menced. The judges entered the city in solemn procession.

The sheriff, with his javelin men, gave solemnity to the pageant. The dean preached the assize sermon to the learned lords of the law and a deeply interested congregation. The venerable dignitary of the Church spoke of the high duties of the judges of the land, and their responsibility to Heaven, alluding, in touching words, to the death of the Rev. George Desborough, and the position of the respected citizen, whom it had been thought in the interest of justice to arrest and place upon his trial. There was a buzz of relief, a murmur of satisfaction, throughout the church, as the dean finished his refer ence to the subject, implying his belief in the prisoner's innocence, coupled with some weighty words regarding the responsibili ties of those who were entrusted with official power such as that exercised by the police.

One of Her Majesty's judges, it was said, had taken the dean to task for what his lordship said was a most unheard-of and unusual interference of the Church with the course of justice. Indeed, his lordship said that the dean had been seriously in discreet in his reference to the guilt or innocence of a prisoner before the person in question had been placed upon his trial ; and he for one should decline to attend service again if such license was to be practised. The dean had not received the judge's rebuff with humility, but had replied that while England was a law-abiding nation, the people would have to be careful' that their complaisance did not bring them into the position of being law-ridden. That all this had taken place in the chapter house after service was much doubted until Baron Howard referred to the sub ject in his charge to the grand jury ; and then Dr. Atkins terrified Maggie by ex pressing a hope that Mr. Douglas might not have to say, " Save me from my friends."

The court was formally opened, and the trials commenced on the Wednesday in the last week of the old year. It was arranged that the Oswald House case should be com menced on the following day ; and among others who had secured seats near the judges was Mrs. Toynbee. She had brought Miss Short down to Bishopstown for the first time ; and that accomplished fortune-teller had secured a promise from Mr. Inspector Barker that she should have a corner in the gallery where she could see and hear as well as anybody. Mrs. Desborough and poor Maggie were ordered and commanded to be present under threats and penalties launched at them in the name of our Sovereign Lady the Queen. Dr. Atkins had arranged that he would drive down to Oswald House on Wednesday evening with the latest news, and to fix the time when Mrs. Desborough and Maggie should leave for the court in the morn ing.

The anxious girl and her friend were sitting in the dining-room, Mrs. Des borough reading the New Testament, and O O Maggie gazing mournfully into the fire, when the faithful doctor entered, looking as fresh and breezy as if he were assisting at a projected wedding rather than playing a part in a tragedy of real life. " Well, and how are we to-night ? " he said, closing the door. Mrs. Desborough looked up with a sad smile. "Not so well as you are, doctor," sha said, with the faintest touch of rebuke in her tone and manner. " I thank goodness I never was better in my life," he said, not deigning to notice the reproof. " And our heroine — how is our heroine ? " he asked, taking Maggie by the shoulders and drawing her into the light. Mrs. Desborough thought there was something unusually eccentric in the doctor's manner.

" I am quite well," said Maggie, not noticing the freedom of his salutation. " That's right," he said, patting her head. " It's the bravest little woman I have ever known." Then he proceeded to take off a rough overcoat, which he laid upon a chair. " And now come up to the fire, both of you," he said. " I will sit between you and tell you the news." " Good news ? " asked Maggie, eagerly, 4br there was an extra cheeriness in the doctor's voice which struck her as he spoke of the news. " Yes, good news," he said as he took the girl's hand in his and patted it fondly ; " good news, little woman." He turned to Mrs. Desborough, who had brought her chair to his side as he had wished, and repeated, " Good news." " There, now we are a trio of true friends, looking into a bright fire, and shaping our best hopes and wishes in the flame," said the doctor ; " and at the moment we are all praying for one thing, are we not, Maggie ?

" " The release of my poor father," said Maggie. " Just so — the release of our dear father, unjustly detained by that scoundrelly policeman, Barker ; and I will be even with the rascal some day. He is chop fallen just now, however." " That's a good sign indeed," said Maggie. " You follow me, then ; and you, Mrs. Desborough, you will not feel that I am too hilarious when you know what has happened." Maggie trembled with excitement. " Now you must be calm, little woman ; joy is as dangerous as sorrow. When I told you I had good news, I meant it." " Forgive me, Dr. Atkins ; I was rude to you," said Mrs. Desborough. " Not at all, my dear madam, not at all. I should have been the brute you had a right to think me if I had no good excuse o o for my excessive cheerfulness." " Oh, pray tell me, doctor, tell me at once," exclaimed Maggie.

" Can you bear the worst and the best?" asked the doctor ; "joy or misery ? " " I cannot endure this suspense," said Maggie, wringing her hands. " Then listen to the happiest words you have heard for some time, Maggie. While everybody was busy intriguing for places at the show to-morrow, the grand jury — by whom every case is practically tried in private before the magisterial decision that there is enough evidence to warrant a trial is endorsed ; while Bishopstown was on tiptoe this afternoon, trying to look into the face of to-morrow, the grand jury threw out the bill, and your father was discharged." " Thank God ! " exclaimed Maggie, covering Dr. Atkins's hands with kisses, " and you for all your goodness." " Yes, Maggie, a free man, and we will punish Mr. Inspector Barker yet," said the doctor, going' to the door and opening it.

" And where is he ? — where is he ? " exclaimed the excited girl. " Here, Maggie," exclaimed the old man, rushing in and folding his child to his heart in one long joyous embrace. Mrs. Desborough failed in her kindly efforts to persuade Maggie and her father to stay at Oswald House all night. They were eager to be at home, with their joy and their sorrow ; to be alone to think together of what had happened. But Dr. Atkins would not be refused his invitation to take his bachelor quarters on their way and have supper. It was useless to say they could not eat, useless to say that they would come to-morrow*. He had made up his mind that they should come there and then, and Mrs. Des borough supported the doctor ; but when he said they must go at once, Mrs. Desborough begged for another hour, and proposed to send them home in a close carriage, which would be a great deal better for them than the doctor's cold gig. o o Dr. Atkins said Mrs. Desborough was the most considerate of women.

He would go on first and call at Miss Juniper's lodgings, and tell that eccentric person to have everything in readiness to welcome the wanderers ; which turned out to be a very happy thought, for when Dr. Atkins arrived at South Street he made the appal ling discovery that the writ, of which Mr. Barker had spoken, had developed into an execution, and the brokers were taking an inventory prior to moving Mr. Douglas's property. The doctor commanded them to stay their hands while he fetched the money. In less than half an hour the chief clerk from Wigram, Jones, and Bolderoe's, waited upon the solicitors on the other side just as the office was closing, but in time to pay the claims and costs, and obtain the sheriff's order to withdraw the execution ; thus enabling Miss Juniper to receive her lodgers some hours afterwards with red eyes but with red fires also, and the kettle singing on the hob as of yore.

But this sudden restoration to home and freedom was of short duration. Mr. Douglas found himself so hemmed in with his few but pressing liabilities, and so weighed down with the degradation of his position, that he now resolved to hide him- VOL. II. C self and his child in the great world of London. Dr. Atkins had endeavoured to get up a tribute of sympathy with Mr. Douglas, to be presented to him in public; but friends advised — and more par ticularly Messrs. Wigram, Jones, and Bol deroe — that it were better to let well alone ; and the old man also begged to be left to his own resources. He was not quite without friends and connections in London, and he would be able to get good advice there as to the course he should pursue to vindicate his honour. Mr. Detective Marples had promised to intro duce him to a clever barrister in London ; and, come what come may, to London he would go.

Mr. Marples wrote to town and obtained for them a quiet lodging with some friends whom he knew near the Mary lebone-road end of Albany Street. Messrs. Wigram, Jones, and Bolderoe offered to lend Mr. Douglas a little money, but he declined their pecuniary aid until they pointed out to him that it would be necessary that the few claims against him should be immediately discharged. These, Mr. Douglas urged, would be more than covered by the sale of his effects, which included some valuable works of art. But Dr. Atkins said if Mr. Douglas did not accept this little service from the solicitors he would never speak to him again. So it came to pass that Maggie and her father selected from their household goods such little treasures of literature and art as they would not like to part with. These were packed up and sent to Albany Street, and the remainder were sold by auction, realizing fabulous prices, which enabled Mr. Douglas to pay all he owed, and deposit one hundred pounds in the bank, without trespassing upon the kindness of the solicitors or anybody else.

"We will see the old year out and the new one in, outside this accursed city," said the old man to Maggie when all this was settled. "We will begin our new life in our new home with the new year, and leave the old one behind ; and may God be good to us as we shall deserve His merciful kindness." They had said good-bye to Mrs. Des borough, who had taken Miss Juniper's lodgings until her affairs were arranged; for by her husband's will Oswald House was to be sold. They had bade Dr. Atkins farewell. They had neither seen nor heard of Mrs. Toynbee throughout their troubles. They had looked their last upon the once beloved city, now sombre in the dull winter twilight, and their faces were turned to wards London. Far away in the south lay the never-slumbering city of wonders, the centre of the world's civilized life, the pawn shop of Europe, the magazine of Chris tendom, the world's museum, the home of the arts, the scene of the greatest dramas on life's broad stage.

The Father of Cities received too many pilgrims to count upon their coming or going. The Titan's arms were open to all. His thousands of streets, howsoever thronged, had always room for more, and every day they stretched out farther to accommodate the incessant procession of pilgrims, stretched far away into the fields and forests where kings had hunted the boar and the deer. And day by day the ambitious and the poor fell out of the ranks and were trampled down by those who pressed on in the rear ; but the giant heeded them not ; he was no respecter of persons. Youth and age were alike to him, the guilty and the innocent. London was Liberty Hall, but there were those who sat below the salt, and those who had even to feed with the swine. They turned their faces towards the great city, Maggie and her father.

The " express," on its way from Edinburgh, picked them up at the Bishopstown station, and while the bells were tolling the requiem of the past, Maggie Douglas and her father were poured out of the train,. with hundreds of others, upon the platform of Euston Square, and were seen no more for many a day by friends or foes. They had disappeared in the multitudes that swelled the hum and buzz of the vast city ; elbowed hither and thither, neither claiming sympathy nor obtaining it. They were units like the others in the mighty crowd, and the great Father of Cities had no know ledge of their troubles or their hopes. The New Year looked down upon them and knew them not. The stars shone high up in the cold blue heavens. Maggie clung to her father, and her heart sunk as the vastness of Babylon encompassed her.

The great city seemed to look upon her without one recognizing smile of pity or regret, of welcome or rebuke. The old man thought of his early days of joy and sorrow in this world of mingled hopes, and his cheeks blanched with terror at the thought that he might perchance leave his child to its bitter chances. While they plodded on, Youth and Age, with their different thoughts and fears, pressed ever forward by the crowd, not daring to halt or stumble lest they fell and were trodden down, the New Year was proclaimed from ten thousand steeples ; and the old man lifted up his eyes to heaven as if to catch a kindly glance from the new monarch. O vain, insignificant unit in the crowd, march on ; thy destiny is in thine own hands ! O maiden, with the soft brown eyes, steel thine heart, for not only do men go forth into the battle of life in London, but women, gentle, tender women are thrust into the ranks, to take their place in the never-ending conflict.

Chapter II. After Three Years

It is three years since we lost sight of that old man and his daughter in the London crowd. Three years have passed since the sound of those midnight bells followed them on their first night in the London streets. It is three years since we caught a glimpse of Lord Rokeby and Arthur Welland playing at deck-quoits on an Australian steamer, nearing her destin ation, outward bound. In these days of rapid developments, three years represent time enough for oblivion. Your best friend may forget you in three years, especially if the seas AFTER THREE YEARS. 25 roll between you and him. A political party may forget a leader in three years, as easily as a man may cease to remember his mistress. Three years, six and thirty calendar months— why, the map of Europe has been revised by the sword in a third of the time.

No wonder that the Radical Earl of Rokeby was forgotten by the politicians who had looked up to him as a sort of aristocratic saviour, not above shaking hands with a collier, or sharing a " singing hinney " with the bairns in a pit cottage. An occasional paragraph in the papers, quoted from colonial and American journals, mentioned him in connection with affairs beyond the seas, as an Englishman of exceptionally broad views and vast ambition as a sight seer, willing to run all risks for new experiences of life. But this was not sufficient to keep him in the public mind. He had stepped out of the ranks. Con spicuous as was his figure in them, out of the marching he was soon forgotten ; or if remembered, only to be denounced by those miserable libellers, who exercise their skunk-like functions with pertinacious activity when they are well out of your reach.

The political crisis in which Lord Rokeby was to have been of so much value to his party had passed away, and been succeeded by other crises of equal importance. Session had succeeded session, each with its great question sufficient to wreck a government and ruin a nation ; but the Constitution remained intact, and though England had fought some little wars with her usual vigour she was still clear of that mighty conflagration which had continually threatened to bring all Europe within its warlike glare. The eventualities which were on the cards when Lord Rokeby went to sea were still ahead of time ; and like an individual, the nation was suffering more by anticipation «■.' AFTER THREE YEARS. 27 of evil things, than in the actual realiza tion of miser)*. The trade of the country was going to other nations, strikes were ruining our manufactures, our navy was. going to the devil, corruption in the City was striking a fatal blow at commercial morality, Art was degenerating, the stage was sinking into the gutter of burlesque, England was retrogading in the scale of nations ; all this was going on when Lord Rokeby deserted the poor little island, just as it had been going on years before and just as it was going on when he and Arthur, after three years of travel, sat in the reading-room of the Union Club in New York and read sensation cablegrams. of the coming war between England and Russia.

To these two men these three years represented in action and incident half a lifetime, and they would be quite prepared to find England drifting into political chaos. In spite of the continual evidences of her greatness which they had encountered during their wanderings in distant lands, the old country, contem plated from the standpoint of their adven tures, now seemed like the memory of a dream. Constant travel and a rapid succession of novel incidents appear to swallow up time, and so it was with Lord Rokeby and Arthur ; but to those who are doomed to pass their lives in an everlastingly anchored city, such as Bishopstown, it is very different. One day there, is like another. The only change is represented by the seasons ; and they come and go with a regular monotony. The cathedral and castle lifted their proud heads against the sky, and the river slid over the weir, as they had done for hundreds of years.

The only spot that showed signs of prosperity was the new cemetery on the hill-side beyond the city precincts. Yet to the historian who looks on as a spec tator, three years have spread a softening mist over the incidents wrhich associate this narrative with the history of Bishops town. The grass had grown tall and thick about the tombstone which covered the mortal remains of the Rev. George Des borough. His widow had settled clown quietly in the old house overlooking the river in South Street, reconciled to her troubles, but still looking forward to the return of her son. Miss Higglestock had succeeded in poisoning the widow's mind against Maggie Douglas — not sufficiently to shut out tender recollections of that devoted girl, but sufficient to neutralize her interest in her, and to make her satisfied to be left alone with her memories.

It was a notable fact, and one which some persons might interpret unfavourably to the character of the late Mr. Desborough, that his ailing wife had become a healthy and happy-looking widow. She was not quite so strict as she used to be in mattersof religion ; but this was rather a useful thing to the Higglestock community, as it gave them another special cause for prayer. The apple-like cheeks of Dr. Atkins showed a few more red streaks as if they were put into the picture to keep pace with the increasing whiteness of his hair. It did not escape the notice of Bishopstown that the lively old bachelor made frequent calls at South Street, though everybody knew there was nothing the matter with Mrs. Desborough. On the contrary, Bishopstown had never seen her looking so hale and hearty, and it was reported that she had actually been up to the famous mourning-house at Regent Circus, London, to purchase her modified weeds, which included a form of widow's cap that was far too becoming, everybody thought, to be put on as an indication of grief.

Dr. Atkins did not agree with this criticism, which neither curtailed his visits to South Street in number, nor shortened their duration. He had been a thorn in the side of Mr. Inspector Barker, but that obstinate officer still held his appointment and flew in the face of justice whenever his prejudices got the better of his judgment. Neither Mr. Barker nor the detective from Scot land Yard had succeeded in clearing up the mystery of the Oswald House tragedy, the story of which was gradually drifting away into the shadow-world of legend and romance, notwithstanding the efforts of Miss Higglestock to keep the memory of it green. The dean still held his place in the heart of Bishopstown society, and Mrs. Toynbee gave her little dinners, and kept her former station within the shadow of the cathedral.