CHAPTER III

A PEEP INTO BOHEMIA

FLOSSIE CHALCOMBE led Juliet into a square, lofty room, which was the dining-room of the house.

It was not an ill-furnished room, but it looked dingy, and had, even to Juliet's unobservant eyes, a most untidy appearance, whilst her sensitive nostrils were at once aware of the disagreeable odour of stale tobacco.

The ceiling was darkened by smoke; the curtains, once white, had, under the strain of smoke and dust from within, and damp and smuts from without, developed a greyish hue; the carpet, once handsome, was discoloured and threadbare, rather, perhaps, from the effects of careless usage than as the result of long service; a pipe-rack and a tobacco jar appeared amongst other odd ornaments on the mantelpiece, and the pier-glass above it presented a curious effect, being bordered on each side as high as hands could reach with papers, play-bills, photographs, etc., stuck for security within its rim. The chairs were of oak, curiously carved, with crimson leather seats. A handsome sideboard with a plate-glass back stood on one side, presenting an array of flagons and decanters flanked by a black bottle or two. A plated spirit-stand was in the centre. The cut-glass decanter labelled "whisky" had been drawn out and stood on the table beside two empty glasses. Near the door a cottage piano stood open, the top littered with sheets of music, and on the music-stand a piece bearing on its cover a marvellous representation of a gentleman in extravagantly fashionable attire making his bow to an imaginary audience.

As Juliet glanced round her, the misgivings with which she had entered the house increased.

"Is father at home?" Flossie asked of the servant, as her eyes fell on the empty glasses.

The maid answered in the affirmative.

Flossie slightly shrugged her shoulders, and Juliet fancied she was not best pleased.

"Make us some tea, Maria, as quickly as you can," said Flossie, "and let it be strong, mind. And stay, you had better run to the nearest shop for a cake; I don't suppose there is any in the house."

"Oh, Flossie, please don't," began Juliet.

"Nonsense, Juliet!" Flossie checked her laughingly. "I may surely order cake if I like. I want some, it you do not."

"But I really ought not to stay," faltered Juliet.

"You are not going till you have had some tea, so there," said Flossie imperiously. "Excuse me one moment." And she disappeared.

Juliet heartily wished that she had not entered the house. She foresaw that the maid's getting tea would be a long business; but it seemed impossible to hurry away now without hurting Flossie's feelings.

"What would Hannah say if she could see me!" she thought. "How shocked Salome, who always wears the blue ribbon, would be if she saw that sideboard!"

In fact, Juliet was slightly shocked herself. Decidedly the people who dwelt in this house were of a different set from her own. What a strange, disorderly room it was! She glanced at the pier-glass, and saw the likeness of a ballet-girl taken in such extreme attire, that, though she was alone, Juliet instinctively lowered her eyes with a sense of shame. But ere she had time to observe more there was a sound of voices in the hall, and Flossie entered followed by her brother.

"Juliet, this is Algernon, who has been wishing so much to make your acquaintance. I hardly thought he would be at home, but—"

"Fortune has been kind to me," added her brother, in a low, rich voice, as she hesitated.

The colour flew into Juliet's cheeks and deepened as she met the frankly admiring glance of Flossie's brother. She hardly knew how she acknowledged the introduction, so conscious was she of those tiresome blushes and the timid fluttering of her heart.

But there was nothing formidable in the appearance of Algernon Chalcombe, unless it were his extreme handsomeness. Juliet saw before her a well-formed, graceful man of middle height, whose dark beauty was well set off by the crimson and black "blazer" which he wore. His black hair was rather long and inclined to curl; he had fine dark lustrous eyes and regular features. The mouth was rather large in proportion to the rest of the face, with full lips, the chin large, full, and rounded. He had been told that he resembled the portraits of Lord Byron, and the suggestion flattered his vanity. He was amply endowed with that commodity, and his countenance revealed its presence, and betrayed tokens too of luxurious, self-indulgent habits.

But Juliet had not the experience that could discern these. She was struck with the graceful bearing and polished ease of the young man. Although his eyes plainly expressed admiration for her, there was no insolence in their gaze. On the contrary, he contrived to infuse into his manner a subtle suggestion of self-depreciation and humility inspired by her presence, and his tone in addressing her was charmingly deferential.

"He is a perfect gentleman," thought Juliet, with a sense of agreeable surprise.

And certainly Algernon Chalcombe lacked none of the externals of a gentleman. It had been his father's ambition to make him such, and his education had been expensive, and therefore presumably good. It had even comprised a sojourn at Oxford, but his career at the University had come to an abrupt termination, and he had reasons for preferring not to speak of that period of his life. At Oxford and elsewhere he had courted the society of men of a higher social standing than his own, and had been quick to catch their tone and learn their habits.

Thus it was that Juliet discerned in him what she took to be tokens of high breeding and superior personal refinement. Having no brother, and belonging to a wholly feminine household, her ideas as to what constitutes a gentleman were perhaps more crude than are those of most girls. Certain it is that Algernon Chalcombe's ready courtesy, his pleasant accent, the well-made garments which he wore with such careless grace, his white hands and polished nails, all combined to produce on her the impression of a personal distinction and innate chivalry befitting a hero of romance. Juliet had read few romances—Hannah had seen to that—but perhaps just because they were so few, those she had read had made the more impression on her vivid imagination.

Flossie was quick to see how Juliet was struck by Algernon's appearance and bearing. She was delighted, for she was very fond of this brother seven years older than herself. She was able to make a hero of him in her way, though she saw him under other aspects than that which he was so studiously presenting to Juliet.

"This is not the first time that I have had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Tracy," remarked Algernon Chalcombe. "Flossie pointed you out to me at your school concert."

"Yes, so she told me," said Juliet hurriedly, blushing deeply the next moment, as she remembered all Flossie had said when she told her.

He did not appear conscious of her confusion, though in reality, he thought how pretty she looked when she blushed, and what a fresh, naïve, charming little girl she was.

"It was rather a slow affair that school concert, was it not?" he said, in his full, deep tones, with the fine drawl he affected.

"Oh yes—at least I do not know that I found it so," Juliet corrected herself; "but then I knew beforehand what it would be like. One cannot expect anything very startling at a school concert, when only the pupils perform. Of course it must have seemed a dull affair to you."

"Oh no; I liked it very much. I do not mean to say that I enjoyed the music particularly, but I liked being there. I was disappointed, though, to find that you were not amongst the performers. I had hoped to hear you play or sing."

"Flossie could have told you that was impossible. I do not learn music at school. I do not learn at all now, in fact."

"Do you really mean it? And yet I am sure you are musical."

Juliet shook her head. "I am afraid not. I am very fond of music, but I cannot play much. Salome used to teach me, but she gave me up in despair; and, indeed, I could never learn of her. We used to quarrel at every lesson."

"I don't wonder, if she taught you," said Flossie.

"Mother wanted me to have lessons of someone else, but Hannah said that would be an extravagance, when Salome is so well qualified to teach me. She gives lessons in music, you know, and is said to have an admirable method of training young strummers. I know her playing is quite correct, and all that, but can never feel that there is any music in it, somehow."

"I know the kind of playing you mean," said Algernon; "this is it, is it not?" He turned quickly to the piano, sat down and played a little air of Beethoven's; played it correctly, coldly, the time strictly accented, but without the least expression.

"That's it—that's it exactly!" exclaimed Juliet, delighted. "Salome always plays in that hard, woodeny manner."

"Do you know anyone who plays like this?" he asked. His hands now wandered over the keys in uncertain, fluttering movements, one hand always a little behind the other, as in staccato fashion, he struck out "Ye Banks and Braes."

"Oh yes, yes," said Juliet; "I have heard people play like that."

"What do you think of this?" he asked next. His hands descended with a crash upon the piano, tore at the notes, flew up and down the keyboard. Crash followed crash, run pursued run, there was a tumult in which hammer and tongs, tin-whistle and wooden drum might have been taking part, assisted by an enraged cat. The piano rocked beneath the violent onslaught, the room seemed to shake with it; then, suddenly, the din ceased, and the performer leaned back from the stool, laughing.

Flossie and Juliet were laughing too.

"Whatever is that remarkable composition?" asked his sister.

"'Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death,' an impromptu, by Algernon Chalcombe," he answered gravely.

"Won't you sing something to Juliet, now she is here?" suggested his sister. "She wants so much to hear you sing."

The colour rose in Juliet's face. She looked half-ashamed of hearing such a thing said. But the suggestion was very agreeable to Algernon Chalcombe.

"With pleasure, if she wishes it," he said, in his low, musical tones. "Her wish is a command to me."

He sang a song which was comic without being vulgar. His singing was very spirited, and his full, rich baritone was delightful to listen to. But when Juliet asked for another song, he chose one of a very different description. It was Blumenthal's "My Queen," and he sang it with great power and feeling.

The song is familiar enough to most persons now, but Juliet had not heard it before, and she was thrilled by the beauty of the words and the music. Still more was she thrilled when Algernon at its conclusion suddenly lifted his dark eyes to hers, and looked at her with a glance that seemed charged with unutterable meanings. Juliet trembled under the magnetism of that glance. She rose and looked about for her gloves, feeling a sudden desire to get away. But the tea had not yet appeared, and till now she had been unconscious how time was passing.

"You must not think of going yet," said Algernon, in his low, deep voice, as he came to her side. "Won't you sing something to me now? I am sure that you sing."

"Yes, indeed; she sings beautifully," exclaimed Flossie; "her voice is as clear as a bird's. Do sing, Juliet."

"Oh, I cannot! I never sing, except sometimes with mother some of the old songs that she used to sing when she was a girl."

"Won't you let me hear one of them?" said Algernon persuasively. "I love those good old songs."

"Oh no, indeed! I cannot sing, really," protested Juliet.

"Oh, but you must, you shall!" exclaimed Flossie. "I won't let you off, Juliet."

But her brother gravely interposed.

"Stay, Flossie. Miss Tracy shall not be urged to sing if the idea is really disagreeable to her. Of course it would have given me great pleasure; but it shall be just as she likes."

Juliet immediately felt convicted of ingratitude. He had been so kind in singing to her, it seemed horrid of her to refuse to gratify him in her turn.

"I will try, if you like," she faltered; "but you must please go to the other end of the room and promise not to listen."

"I cannot promise that," he said, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, "but I assure you I will not listen critically."

He moved away as he spoke, and Juliet, sitting down at the piano, struck a few notes in uncertain fashion, and then trilled forth the sweet old song, "Where the bee sucks, there lurk I."

She loved singing, and in a few moments, she had forgotten her nervousness. Her voice was untrained, but it was singularly sweet and clear. Algernon, as he stood carelessly with his hands in his pockets looking out of the window, expected only to be amused by some school-girlish warbling. He was amazed at the strength and purity of the full, clear notes.

But Algernon Chalcombe was not the only listener who was surprised and delighted by the sweet, bird-like notes. As Juliet sang the last verse, a shuffling tread was heard crossing the hall towards the half-open door, and the next moment, Mr. Chalcombe senior entered the room.

He was a short, stoutish man, with a highly coloured complexion and a round bullet head, but scantily covered with greyish hair. Late though it was in the afternoon, he wore what he was wont to describe as his "dishabilles," a gay, much-beflowered dressing-gown, considerably the worse for wear, whilst on his feet were a pair of old carpet slippers, the easiness of which was an advantage counterbalanced by the difficulty of keeping on the loose, downtrodden things.

Flossie's face flushed as her father entered, and an impatient frown appeared on that of Algernon; but Mr. Chalcombe's face beamed with good-nature. He had no misgivings as to his welcome as he joined the little party.

"Bravo! Bravo!" he cried heartily as Juliet finished her song. "I congratulate you, young lady, whoever you are, on having such a voice as that."

"Father, this is Miss Tracy," said Flossie, in a tone suggestive of remonstrance.

"To be sure. Juliet Tracy, your chum at the 'igh school. I've often 'eard of you, my dear. You two are in the same class, ar'n't you? It's a mighty fine thing, that 'igh school. You young people nowadays 'ave great advantages. My hedjucation was all crowded into three years, which left little time for putting on the polish. Ha, ha! But there, I've done very well without it." And Mr. Chalcombe struck the table sharply with his hand, by way of giving emphasis to his words.

His son looked much annoyed. He moved quickly to Juliet's side, saying in a low voice, with an evident desire to cover his father's want of taste—

"Thank you so much, Miss Tracy. Your voice is indeed beautiful. One does not often have the chance of hearing such."

"Oh, but my singing is not good," said Juliet, looking much pleased, however. "You see, I have had no proper training."

"Yes, yes, I can tell that," said Mr. Chalcombe, taking the remark as addressed to him; "but it's not too late for it to be cultivated, and it's a lovely voice. You might make your fortune on the stage with such a voice as that."

Juliet looked at the speaker with a startled air. At the first moment she saw him and heard him speak, she had been conscious of a sensation of strong repulsion from one who was obviously such a vulgar member of society. But now his words were so agreeably suggestive and flattering to her self-love that she was disposed to view him more favourably.

"The stage!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I should never think of going on the stage!"

"And why not?" he demanded. "It's my belief you'd be a grand success as an opera singer. Patti, Neilson, Trebelli, and all the rest of them would 'ave to look to their laurels when you made your début. Oh, you need not laugh, my dear; I'm not joking."

"I think you must be, when you prophesy such things as that for me," said Juliet, with a merry laugh.

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I tell you, there's many a one sings at 'er Majesty's opera whose voice is a less musical one than yours. You've 'eard Orféo?"

"I have heard nothing," said Juliet. "I have never been to the theatre or the opera in my life."

"You don't mean that?"

"Indeed I do. My mother and sisters do not approve of the theatre. They would never let me go."

Mr. Chalcombe muttered something that it was well Juliet did not catch, since it was not complimentary to the intelligence of her family. Flossie was listening rather nervously to the talk going on between her father and her friend. It was a relief to her that at this moment the maid appeared bearing the tea-tray, which she placed with some clatter on the table.

"Here's the tea at last!" Flossie exclaimed. "You must have thought, Juliet, that it was never coming."

Thus reminded of the flight of time, Juliet glanced at the clock, and was dismayed to see how late it was.

She rose from the piano. Algernon drew forward a chair for her, brought her some tea, and waited on her assiduously.

"Will you have some tea, father?" Flossie asked.

"No, thank you, my dear, no, thank you. Tea is all very well for women-folks, but I like something stronger. Oh dear, I am forgetting my letters! I must bid you good-day, Miss Tracy. Now think over what I've said, and when you've made up your mind, you come to me, and I'll put you in the way of things. It's my belief that with proper training you might soon be earning your thirty guineas a night, and that's not a sum to be sniffed at, let me tell you."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Flossie. "Only think, Juliet, thirty guineas a night!"

"Juliet!" exclaimed Mr. Chalcombe. "There you are! The very name for an opera singer. She might play Juliet to your Romeo, eh, Algie? That would be the best use you could make of your good looks, as I often tell you. Ha, ha, ha!"

And laughing at his own joke, Mr. Chalcombe shuffled out of the room.

Juliet's cheeks were crimson as she sipped her tea, trying to look unconscious. Presently, glancing at Algernon Chalcombe, she perceived that he was gnawing his moustache savagely, and appeared much put out. Whereupon she reflected, not without sympathy, how trying a person of his refinement must find it to be saddled with such a parent.

"Have you really never been to a theatre, Juliet?" asked Flossie.

"Never," said Juliet, "and I do not suppose I ever shall."

"Oh, do not say that!" exclaimed Flossie. "How I wish you could go with us one, night! Father gets tickets for everything, you know."

And Algernon's expressive eyes said that he wished it too. But Juliet would not entertain such an idea for a moment. She rose to take her leave, and was not to be persuaded to stay longer.

As she hastened homewards at her quickest pace, her mind was in a strangely excited state. She knew that she might prepare to face a storm when she reached home, but she did not quail at the prospect. Her knowledge of the world seemed to have increased, and the horizon of her life to have widened with the experience of the afternoon. Her imagination played delightedly with words and looks which had been full of pleasant insinuation, as well as with the practical suggestions of Mr. Chalcombe senior. Her future seemed to be quite bewilderingly full of wonderful possibilities.