The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
good, so I listens to them, as I says before, and it’s a mixture, Mrs.
Stubbs--a mixture of gals and Sorcery and Magic and the Devil, that’s
what it is, and I cannot ’ave it in my ’ouse. The Professor ’e must
go, and so must Hannah, though I’m sorry to say it of a daughter of
yours--but it’s right-down wickedness, and I won’t countenance it!”
At this Joe Brushwood sprang to his feet.
“I know what it is,” he exclaimed, fiercely. “Hannah’s been raising
them sperrits again, which she promised me to have no more to do with
’em, and if that’s the case, it’s all over between us, for I won’t
’ave a sorceress for a wife, to bewitch me half my time,--not if I
dies a bachelor!”
“’Ush!” cried Mrs. Battleby, “’ere’s Hannah. Just put it to ’er, Mrs.
Stubbs, ’ow she’s been employing ’er time with the Sig-nor and ’is
friend, and judge for yourself!”
In another moment Hannah entered the kitchen. She had been out for a
little walk and it had done her good. Her face was rosy and fresh and
beaming with smiles. On her arm she carried a market basket, but as
soon as she caught sight of her mother and Joe Brushwood, she threw it
on the ground and flew towards them, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“Mother!” she cried rapturously; “’owever did you come ’ere. And Joe
too!”--more bashfully--“O! I _am_ glad to see you both again. I cries
for ’ome every night afore I goes to sleep, mother!”
She would have embraced her, but the elder woman thrust her away.
“No! Hannah Stubbs, no!” she said, severely, as she glared at her
daughter, “not till you gives me a hexplanation of your doings in this
’ere ’ouse--likewise to Joe Brushwood, which we’re ’ere for that, and
nothink else.”
The rosy colour faded from Hannah’s face, as she encountered her
mother’s angry glance.
“What ’ave I been a’doing of?” she faltered, “why, nothink,
mother--leastways nothink wrong, as I knows on. I’ve tried to give
satisfaction. Mrs. Battleby knows that, don’t you, Mum?”
“Well! I can’t say as I do, Hannah,” returned that worthy, “if seeing
ghosts and sich-like, and playing with the Devil up in the gentlemen’s
rooms, is giving satisfaction, I can’t see it, and that’s all!”
“Hannah! what ’ave you been a’doing up in the lodgers’ rooms?”
demanded Mrs. Stubbs again.
“Only ’aving physic,” replied the girl, as she looked down upon the
floor.
“Come! that ain’t true,” interposed Mrs. Battleby, “for you knows you
go into a room all ’ung with black, and sees ghosties, which is only
the Devil dressed up to deceive mankind.”
“Is this the case?” said her mother, sternly.
“I never see none,” replied Hannah, “leastways not in the room, and I
’ates them, mother--I’ve told you so, scores of times--but they will
foller me, I can’t ’elp it.”
“Does you go to sleep in those gentlemen’s rooms?” continued Mrs.
Stubbs.
“The physic they gives me, makes me do that!” replied the girl.
“’Tain’t _my_ fault!”
“Then I’ve done with yer for ever,” exclaimed Joe Brushwood,
energetically, “a gal as goes to sleep in gentlemen’s rooms, ain’t the
wife for a respectable young man, and it’s all over between us, Hannah
Stubbs, you mark that! I’ve told you so, afore two witnesses, so you
needn’t try for a breach of promise of marriage case!”
“O! no! no! Joe, don’t say that!” cried Hannah, tearfully, “I’ve been
a true gal to you all along, Joe, and if--if--I’m so un’appy as to be
prosecuted by shadders and things, you did ought to pity me, and not
turn against me like that!”
“You leave the young man alone, Hannah,” interrupted her mother, “’e’s
doing the right thing in casting you hoff, and I, for one, won’t blame
’im for it! Do you suppose any decent feller will marry you with these
devils allays arter you? You’re a Witch! that’s what you are, and a
Sorceress. You’ve sold yourself to the Devil and ought to be burnt
alive, as they did to sich as you in the good old times. Likely a
respectable man like Joe Brushwood, would own you now--when your own
people won’t! _I_ won’t ’ave you a’coming ’ome, contaminating your
brothers and sisters with your devilish ways, no more won’t your
father! You must make your living the best way you can for the future,
for you don’t see me nor ’ome no more, and that I tells you straight.”
“Mother! mother! don’t go to say that!” cried Hannah, in despair, as
she flung herself down upon the floor and burst into tears.
At that moment, the spare figure of the Professor appeared at the open
door of the kitchen.
“Mrs. Battleby!” he commenced, and then perceiving the attitude which
Hannah had assumed, he broke off his request with, “Why! what is the
matter? Is Hannah ill?”
“No! Sir, she hain’t hill,” replied Mrs. Stubbs, guessing his
identity, “but she’s cast off by ’er friends and ’er young man, for
hever.”
Ricardo looked at the stranger with mild surprise.
“But why?” he inquired, “what has she done?”
“And you can stand there, and arsk me that, you brazen-faced
impostor?” cried Mrs. Stubbs, with undisguised fury, “when it’s all
along of you and your diabolical practices, that the pore gal ’ave
lost ’er good name and repitation? What have _you_ done--that’s more
to the puppuss, a’avin ’er up to your rooms a nights--your dark rooms
’ung with black--and playing with ’ell fire as you do? Why ’ave you
been a’calling up sperrits and ghosties and sich-like, and frightening
us all out of our wits. But since it is so, and Hannah, she ’ave been
fool enough to play into your ’ands (wich I’m sure you’re old enough
to know better than to lead young gals astray), she ain’t no more a
child of mine, and she don’t come ’ome no more, neither, to
contaminate ’er brothers and sisters. She belongs to the Devil and let
’im keep ’er! _I_ don’t!”
“But, my dear Madam,” said the Professor, “you mistake altogether! My
friend Doctor Steinberg has been trying to cure your daughter of her
natural weakness----”
“Bah!” exclaimed the irate mother, more emphatically than politely.
“Go along with yer!”
“Mrs. Battleby, _you_ can explain this matter,” said Ricardo, turning
to his landlady.
“No! Sig-nor, I can’t,” she replied, “I must make bold to tell you
that I went into your locked-up room the other day, and I listened at
your door last night and I know _all!_ And I’ll be much obliged if
you’ll find another lodging, Sig-nor, by this day week. Mysteries as
is jined with books I can be easy with, but not Mysteries as is jined
with gals!”
“Of what baseness do you suspect me?” said Ricardo, indignantly. “It
is true that finding this girl to be a strong medium, my friend and I
have used her to assist us in our studies in spiritualism, but if
anyone is in fault in the matter, it is I. Hannah is perfectly
blameless; indeed, she does not even know what has occurred. Pray,
therefore, do not visit the misfortune on her innocent head. If Mrs.
Stubbs does not believe in, or does not approve of, Spiritualism, she
can at least sympathise with the marvellous power which her daughter
possesses, and which is as rare as it is wonderful.”
“_Sympathise!_” screamed Mrs. Stubbs. “No! Sir, I don’t, nor with any
dealings with the Devil, nor witches, nor sorcery, nor----”
“Devils! Witches! Fiddlesticks!” cried Ricardo, impatiently.
“It’ll fiddlestick you, Sir, and that misfortunate gal there, if you
don’t take ’eed to your ways,” retorted his irate adversary. “Me and
mine ’ave been brought hup Christuns from our birth--in sound Methody
principles--and we won’t stand no devilry, nor doings of Satan--and no
more will this young man ’ere!”
“No! no! certingly not!” exclaimed the chivalrous Joe, “hit’s hall
hover with me and Hannah from this hour.”
“What! are _you_, too, going to turn against her, for a temperament
which is no fault of her own?” exclaimed the Professor, addressing the
young farmer. “You--who professed to be her lover! Shame on you! You
are not a man! Men were different in my day. They stood by the women
they had promised to defend, to the very last--I think Hannah is well
quit of such as you.”
“O! do you, Sir?” interposed Mrs. Stubbs, “and we thinks we’re well
quit of the Devil and hall his himps! As you’ve been the means of
leading this un’appy gal astray, and ’aving ’er turned out of a good
place, and spurned by ’er relations, p’r’aps you’ll see arter ’er for
the future, and the Devil and you will ’elp ’er to make a living, for
no one else will.”
The Professor looked like a grand old hero as he replied,
“_I will!_ You may depend on that! Whilst I have a crust, she shall
share it! I would be ashamed to own so cold and unfeeling a heart as
you seem to possess, though you _are_ her mother. Do not cry so
bitterly, Hannah! I will see that you do not want! As for you, Sir,”
he continued, turning to Joe Brushwood, “words cannot express the
contempt I feel for you! You are a poltroon--a coward--a cur! In my
country, they do not let men like you _live!_ Mrs. Battleby, I accept
your notice, and will leave your rooms as soon as I have found others.
Till then, I hope you will allow Hannah to remain under your care, and
to-morrow I will tell you with whom I have decided to place her.
Good-night!”
He quitted the kitchen with the air of a _preux chevalier_, and the
persons in it felt very small.
“Well! I ain’t a’going to stay ’ere any longer,” said Mrs. Stubbs, as
she bounced up from her seat, “the very hair seems to collaborate me.
I’ll get a bed at the Pig and Whistle, which the lady knows me well,
and to-morrer p’r’aps you’ll let me know, Mrs. Battleby, what that old
feller means to do for that misfortunate, wicked gal there. If ’e
don’t provide for ’er, she must just go to the workus, for I washes my
’ands of ’er altogether!”
“Saying as I was no man, indeed,” added Joe, indignantly, “I’d like to
take the old chap outside for a minute and I’d soon let ’im know which
on us was the best man. A dried-up, withered old carcase like that,
and an _I_-talian into the bargain, who’s been fed on macaroni and
snails. I like ’is imperence!”
“Come on, Joe! don’t waste no more time ’ere,” exclaimed Mrs. Stubbs,
“if we make ’aste, we shall be in time for a music ’all yet, and I do
love a music ’all. It’ll put all this wickedness as we’ve been talking
of, out of my ’ead.”
She went into the area as she spoke, followed by Mrs. Battleby,
cackling all the while of the Devil and his ways.
Hannah was left for a moment alone with Joe.
“Joe!” she ejaculated, plaintively, as she raised her head, “don’t you
leave me for a minute. Your words ’ave nigh broke my ’eart. I’ve
allays loved you, Joe, and I’ve been true and faithful to you, ever
since we was little children together. Don’t you believe what mother
and Mrs. Battleby says--they’re talking of what they know nothing. I
ain’t pretty, I know, Joe, but I’ve been a good gal to you. Don’t go
for to forsake me like mother, for I shall kill myself if you do!”
She drew nearer to where the young man stood, sheepishly turning his
billy-cock hat round and round in his hands, and laid hers gently upon
his.
“Do you mind when we fust kep’ company, Joe--when we was nutting in
Farmer Burrows’ copse, and you ketched my ’and and kissed me afore I
knowed what you was after? That was two good years ago!”
CHAPTER VIII.
“Well! what of that?” demanded Joe, as he twitched his hand away
from that of the girl.
“Two years is a goodish time at our age,” continued Hannah, “and
through it all I’ve ’oped to be your wife! Be you going to break your
word to me now, lad?”
She spoke so wistfully that she made Joe feel very uncomfortable,
though if he had had his own way, he would have stuck to her, whatever
her proclivities.
“Well! Hannah, you see it’s just like this,” he replied, after an
awkward pause, “Mother, she won’t ’ave any sperrits, nor anyone as