The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
deals with ’em, in ’er ’ouse, and there won’t be no other for me to
take you to, till she and father kicks the bucket.”
“Not if we worked ’ard for it, Joe?” asked the girl.
“I ain’t got no work, nor ever shall, but what’s on the farm,”
returned Joe, stolidly, “besides which, Hannah, I don’t approve of
sich goings on myself. It’ll lead to ’ell some time or other, you mark
my word!”
“But, Joe, it ain’t _my_ fault,” cried the girl, earnestly, “by the
blessed Cross it ain’t. I’se as feared on ’em as you could be! I
screams if they come near me! I don’t know why they should, or why I
sees ’em. It’s my misfortune, Joe, and if it loses me you, it’ll be my
death as well.”
And she began to sob afresh.
“Now, Hannah, don’t do that, for mercy’s sake,” urged her lover, “for
I must go. Your mother’ll be rare fashed at my staying be’ind, as it
is. Now, do dry your eyes, like a good lass, for matters is too far
gone to be mended by crying.”
“You means to leave me then in right earnest?” said the girl. “You
sides with mother and the rest, and will turn your back on me just
because I’se un’appy?”
“What can I do? my mother, she won’t ’ear on’t, and yourn is as bad.
They’d worry my life out atween ’em, if I went agen ’em, and how
should we live then? that’s the question. No! no! we’d better be
square and part at onst. Besides, the old gennelman says ’_e_’s a
going to look arter you, and you couldn’t do with two on us. So
good-bye, Hannah, and I wishes you well, but you mustn’t expect to see
me any more.”
So saying, Joe Brushwood ran after Mrs. Stubbs, and was soon in the
full enjoyment of a music hall programme.
Hannah was not a fine lady to faint from her emotion, but may be she
felt it all the same. When Mrs. Battleby returned to the kitchen, she
found her standing by the table, with her most sullen look on, as if
she dared a stranger to intermeddle with her grief.
“Well!” cried the landlady, coarsely, “I ’opes you’re satisfied with
the mischief as you’ve done! There’s the mother as bore you, ’alf
drownded in grief, and as ’ansome a young feller as ever I clapped
eyes on, done with you for ever--and all on account of your goings-on
with the gentlemen upstairs. You’ve made a pretty pickle for yourself,
it seems to me.”
“Mrs. Battleby,” said the girl, suddenly, “can I speak to the Sig-nor
afore I goes to my bed?”
“In course, if you wants to! ’E and you leaves this ’ouse as soon as
may be, but I’ve no call to part you, whilst you remains ’ere. The
Sig-nor’s in ’is room. You can go up if you’ve a mind to. You’re not
under my horders any longer. You belongs to ’im now. ’E is to pervide
for you, so you needn’t arsk me nothink any more.”
And Mrs. Battleby turned her back on Hannah and walked into the
scullery. The girl went up the stairs and knocked softly at the
Professor’s door. He was deeply absorbed in a treatise on his
favourite study, but he gave his permission to enter, in a pleasant
voice.
“Well! my poor girl, and what may you want?” he inquired, as he caught
sight of Hannah’s blotched and swollen visage, “I hope you have made
it up with your mother and sweetheart. It is better to give in our own
wishes a little than to quarrel, Hannah!”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, in a muffled voice. She did not seem like
the Hannah of the day before. Something had suddenly gentled her, and
cast a soft shadow over her plain face. “But we ain’t made it up.
Mother, she’s firm, and so is Joe, that they won’t see me again. I
take it rather unkind on their parts, Sir, for I don’t know what I’ve
done wrong. But Mrs. Battleby says as ’ow, when the Doctor ’ave put me
to sleep up ’ere, ghosties and sperrits walk about the room, dressed
in white gownds, and speak with you. Is that true, Sir? ’Ave sperrits
come as she say?”
Ricardo looked very uneasy. He would have given a great deal to be
able to answer “No!” But he could not!
“Mrs. Battleby has told you the truth, Hannah,” he replied, “though,
Heaven is my witness, I never imagined I should bring you into such
trouble with your family by permitting it. You have different powers
from most people, my child! The shadows and figures, that you have
seen, you say, all your life, and the voices which you have heard,
should have taught you that. Doctor Steinberg and I are much
interested in such visions, and we thought by letting your powers have
free vent whilst with us, that you would not be so troubled with them
when alone. And if Mrs. Battleby had not been so dishonourable as to
listen at the keyhole, no one would ever have been the wiser. As it
is, it has turned out very unfortunately for all of us. But I will see
that you get another situation, Hannah, so don’t be anxious about
that. You shall not want, whilst I can support you.”
“Yes, Sir, thank you kindly! It’s very good of you I’m sure, to think
to make it up to me like that, but it won’t give me back my mother,
nor Joe!”
“No! not directly, but surely they will come round after a while?”
“I don’t think so,” said Hannah, shaking her head, “country folk is
very hard to turn. I don’t believe as I shall ever see any of ’em
again. But I thought I’d just arsk you if it was true, Sir!”
Ricardo hid his face in his hands.
“What have I done?” he murmured. “Fool that I am, I have ruined this
poor child’s life! Don’t you hate me, Hannah, for this?”
“’Ate _you_, Sir?” she echoed, “but for why? You didn’t mean to ’arm
me, I’m sure of that--nor the Doctor neither! It’s Joe as I oughter
hate, I s’pose, or mother, but I can’t find it in my ’eart to do it!
They was so good to me afore these sperrits come round me. Arter all,
I oughter ’ate _them_ the most, for they’s done the mischief for me.
Good-night, Sir, and thank ye for what you’ve said.”
She quitted his presence with a kind of rough curtsey, but the
Professor could hear her heart-breaking sobs as she descended the
staircase. He leant his head thoughtfully upon his hand, and tried to
decide what was best to be done. For his own gratification--in order
to further his researches into Occultism--he had spoilt this girl’s
life, parted her from her lover and her home--thrown her, ignorant and
without protection, upon a world that did not want her. How could he
make amends? He pondered over the question for a long time--then
suddenly drew out his watch. It was not yet eight o’clock. He hastily
transcribed a telegram to Karl Steinberg, and rang his bell. It was
answered by Mrs. Battleby.
“What may you please to want, Sir?” she demanded, “Hannah, she ’ave
gone to bed, as well she may. I’m sure if I had been found out in sich
practices, I should be glad enough to ’ide my ’ead anywheres, sooner
than face honest and God-fearing people!”
“Mrs. Battleby!” replied the Professor, in an unusually stern voice,
“I am going to quit your apartments as soon as I can find others to
suit me. So long as I remain here, be good enough to spare me the
expression of your sentiments regarding Hannah, or anybody else. I
wish that telegram to be sent as soon as possible!” and he held out
the paper to her as he spoke.
“It’s quite unpossible as I can send it, Sig-nor,” said the landlady,
with asperity, “considering as there’s only me in the ’ouse. You’ve
took Hannah away from me, Sig-nor, and so you must please to wait on
yourself, and send your own telegrams.”
The Professor rose with a sigh, and assumed his coat and hat.
The message was of importance, so he was fain to put up with the
woman’s insolence. He felt he could not finally decide this momentous
question, without the counsel of his friend. The words were
transmitted to the Hospital by a little after eight o’clock, and by
half-past nine, Steinberg entered the room.
“Why! what’s the matter now?” he exclaimed; “not ill, I hope,
Ricardo.”
“No! but much perplexed,” replied his friend, and thereupon he related
the circumstances regarding Hannah Stubbs, over which he had been
brooding for so long.
Karl Steinberg looked very grave. Here was, apparently, not only the
end of Hannah Stubbs, but of their studies in Spiritualism. Where
should they ever find such another medium?
“What do you intend to do?” he inquired of the Professor.
“I have been thinking over it for a long time,” replied Ricardo, “and
I can arrive at but one conclusion. _I shall marry the girl!_”
If he had announced that he intended to murder Hannah Stubbs and all
her family, he could not have astonished the Doctor more. He
positively leapt from his chair, as he exclaimed,
“Good God! are you mad? Do you know what you are saying? Marry that
clod. Bind yourself for life to a mere animal like Hannah Stubbs! O!
you are jesting with me!”
“I am doing no such thing,” replied Ricardo, “I am in sober earnest! I
have unintentionally done this girl a great injury. Through my means
she is left without protection, lover, or family affection. I propose
to remedy the evil by making her my wife, and providing for her as far
as I am able.”
“But not as your wife--Ricardo, my dear friend, think! think what you
are contemplating! Make Hannah your servant--your housekeeper--your
nurse--what you will, but keep her in the station to which she was
born. Take other rooms, or a little house, and install her there as
mistress of your property, but, for Heaven’s sake, do not contemplate
such a mad, impossible self-sacrifice as to marry a woman like that!”
But the Professor was firm.
“What did you tell me the other day, that the world would say if I
took Hannah as my servant, and sat, shut up with her alone, night
after night? You said it would talk scandal of us, and doubtless you
were right! As my wife, no one will dare to say anything against her
or what I may choose to do! And do you not guess what is at the bottom
of this resolution, Steinberg? I cannot part again with Leonora! She
would be lost to me for ever! Where should I find another _rara avis_
like this girl, to bring her back from the grave? No! no! I must
retain her services, and I see no other way to do it. Leonora has but
just been able to manifest herself to us. You saw her beautiful face
peeping through the mist last night, but as yet she cannot communicate
with me--she cannot set this gnawing doubt at rest. Can I give up my
researches just as they are beginning to reward me for my
trouble?--just as I am on the brink of ascertaining what I have
thirsted to know for so many weary years? No! Steinberg, I feel it to
be impossible! I must go on now until I know the truth, and I know of
no means of ascertaining it, but through Hannah Stubbs!”
“But make her anything but your wife!” repeated the Doctor, “think of
the dishonour--the degradation! _You_--Marchese di Sorrento--the scion
of a princely family--to ally yourself with a common serving girl, a
clod of the soil! O! it is monstrous. I cannot bear to think of it! It
is an infamy--an anomaly--an insult to your birth and your ancestors!”
“I cannot see it in that light,” said Ricardo. “In the first place, I
am no longer Marchese di Sorrento! I have voluntarily abandoned the
title, and Hannah shall never know that it was mine. To her, I shall
be no more than Signor Ricardo, Professor of the Italian Language.
Taking this away, I do not see that the advantages of such a marriage
will be all on her side. I am poor and I am old----”
“Nonsense! a man of fifty! Were you to acknowledge your true rank and
status, you might marry a woman with money, to-morrow!”
The Professor smiled faintly.
“And Hannah can give me more than any money can buy--she can give me
Leonora! Ah! my friend, you do not yet realise what I suffered in the
loss of my wife--in the loss of my faith in her! To regain that, I
would sacrifice everything I possess in this world! I am fifty, in
years--yes! but in feeling I am seventy--a hundred! Hannah is low