The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
remain widowed till we meet again. But tell me, dearest, what shall I
do? What do you advise me to do? Is Hannah to have her own way in
this, or not?”
The form of Leonora nodded its head.
“Is it part of my punishment for having sent you to your account,
whilst still in the bloom of your youth and beauty, to have brought
this trouble on my head? Must I endure it, as a penance, that shall
bring me, all the sooner, to your dear feet?”
The figure nodded its head a second time.
“Then I _will_ bear it--even to hear her called by the title which I
was so proud to bestow upon you--if it will only reunite us one moment
sooner than I hoped for.”
The Professor, in his anxiety to gain the approval of his former wife
for all he did and said, did not consider that he put the words he
wished to hear her say into her mouth, or, rather, that he accepted
her acquiescence as a sign that she understood the case, and his
reasons for it. If Leonora approved of Hannah being styled Marchesa di
Sorrento, it should be exactly as she wished and vice versa. The next
question was put with some amount of trepidity.
“And do you consider that she ought to have a servant?--that the work
is too hard for her, and unbefitting her position as my wife? Ought I
to allow her to make her powers public, or shall I keep them entirely
for myself, as now?”
Leonora shook her head vehemently.
“It will not militate against our meeting, Leonora, nor interfere in
any way with your appearance? Ah! my beloved, think what I have
sacrificed, in order to obtain this great privilege! It would break my
heart if you were to desert Hannah, because others kept you away.”
The figure bent forward until its lips touched the Professor’s face,
and whispered,
“Better! much better!”
“Then it shall be so!” exclaimed Ricardo, though he sighed whilst he
said the words; “I will put no further obstacle in the way of her
wishes. Anything--anything--that shall make your path more easy to
you, and bind us more nearly together. But O! my Leonora! how I long
sometimes for the happy day when Death, like a kindly friend, shall
lead me out of this world of perplexity, into the Land of Light, where
I shall meet you again, in all the radiance of your spiritual youth
and beauty!”
The Spirit patted him gently on the head, but Ricardo did not raise
his face from his hands for the remainder of the séance. When Hannah
came to herself, she found him sitting so, almost as lost to all
external things as she had been.
CHAPTER XII.
A few weeks after the events related in the last chapter, as Mrs.
Battleby was helping her wretched drudge to wash up the miscellaneous
assortment of plates, dishes, cups, saucers and tumblers, sent down by
her various lodgers, and harrying the girl’s soul out, by constant
adjurations to make more haste, she was startled by the sound of a
loud double knock on the front door.
“Now! ’oo on hearth can that be calling at this time o’ night?” she
exclaimed testily, as she wiped her hands on her canvas apron. “’Ere,
’Liza, ’and me over that clean apron _do_, and don’t stand gaping at
me there! I declare, you put me ever so much in mind of that great,
hulking fool, Hannah Stubbs, which I’ve never forgiven ’er mother to
this day for putting her upon me! It might be some one arter the
hattics, for I’ve known ’em to come, when pressed, as late as ten
o’clock at night. Now! go on with your washing-up, and don’t be
a’follerin’ me to hear what they may say, for it’s no concern of yourn
any way.”
Saying which, Mrs. Battleby left the lower regions and ascended to
answer the hall door.
It was a dark night, and all she could distinguish at first was, that
a female figure stood on the door steps.
“Who do you please to want, Ma’am?” she inquired.
“Is Mrs. Battleby at home?” asked the stranger, in her turn.
“Yes! Ma’am, I be Mrs. Battleby, but if it’s rooms as you want, I’ve
none to let but the hattics, which was occupied last by a gentleman of
very high degree!”
“Lor! Mrs. Battleby! I don’t believe you know me!” exclaimed the
visitor, as she pushed her way into the passage, and leant up against
the wall, laughing.
“Why, it’s never!--No! it can’t never be--_Hannah Stubbs!_” cried Mrs.
Battleby, too much astounded to be angry at being taken in.
“Yes! it is,” replied Hannah, still laughing, “but I ain’t Hannah
Stubbs no longer, Mrs. Battleby! I’m a married lady now, and able to
hold my own with anybody. But ain’t you a’going to arsk me to take a
chair? Ain’t the parlours vacant? Can’t we go in there?”
“The parlours!” repeated the landlady, with a sneer. “Well! I wonder
what we’re coming to, next! I should ’ave thought as the kitchen was
good enough for you, Hannah Stubbs, though you _be_ married!”
“Well! then, let me tell you, Mrs. Battleby as it ain’t! And I’ll
thank you not to call me out of my name. I’m married to a nobleman,
and I’ll stick up for my rights. ‘My lady’ is the proper way for you
to address me, Mrs. Battleby! I’m a Markiness!”
“A _what!_” exclaimed Mrs. Battleby, as she pushed her visitor into
the back parlour, which lacked an inmate. “Are you mocking me, Hannah,
or ’ave you gone clean off your chump? A markiness! You must be daft!
They belongs to the highest of the haristocracy. What ’ave you been
a’doing of, since you left this ’ouse?”
As she lighted the gas, and was enabled to have a good look at her
late slavey, the landlady perceived there was a great difference in
her appearance. Hannah wore the famous apple-green merino, with a silk
mantle over it--a small black bonnet, crowned with scarlet poppies,
and a pair of brown silk gloves. Altogether, though she did not look
like a marchioness, she had the appearance of a very respectable
servant.
“And now do tell me the rights of all this, for you’ve took my breath
away,” said Mrs. Battleby. “What’s become of the poor Professor, and
his friend the Doctor, and ’ave you left them for good, and where are
you living now?”
She pushed Hannah into a chair and took one opposite herself, so eager
was she to learn how this wonderful transformation scene had come
about.
The Marchesa di Sorrento was wonderfully self-possessed. She drew off
her silk gloves and folded them neatly on her lap--placed her umbrella
in a safe position--and settled herself down for a good talk.
“I have not left the Sig-nor at all, Mrs. Battleby,” she commenced;
“we’ve been married for a long time now, and our ’ouse is at
’Ampstead.”
“The Sig-nor has _married_ you!” exclaimed the landlady, gasping in
her surprise. “Why! I allays thought as ’e was a real gentleman!
Actually _married_ you! Well! wonders never cease!”
“A real gentleman,” cried Hannah, sharply, “I should think he was--a
better gentleman than you’ll ever ’ave in your attics agen, Mrs.
Battleby. He’s more than a gentleman, a good deal! He’s a real
Markiss! What do you think of that! The Markiss dee Sorrento! And I’m
a Markiness! The Markiness dee Sorrento! And that’s why you’ll ’ave to
call me ‘my lady’ if ever you speaks to me agen, Mrs. Battleby.”
“I don’t believe as I could ever find it on my tongue to do it,
Hannah--not if you was to give me a ’undred pounds,” said the
landlady, as she sank back in her chair with surprise.
“Are you satisfied I speak the truth,” asked Hannah, presently, “or
must I bring the Markiss here to tell you so, himself? He was always a
Markiss, of course, but he didn’t choose to let on to you about it.
But as soon as we was married, he told me the truth! It was a fine
surprise for me, as you may be sure, but I’m quite accustomed to it
now.”
“And he actually married you--that quiet old gentleman! Well! if you’d
told me marriage was in his line, I’d ’ave said you was quite mistook.
And the Doctor--what did ’e say to it, eh, Hannah?--I mean--my lady!”
“You don’t go to suppose as we asked the Doctor’s leave, or anybody
else’s?” replied the Markiness, with a fine scorn; “the Markiss was
old enough to know his own mind, I s’pose! And the Doctor ain’t a
doctor any longer either! He’s a Baron--the Baron von Steinberg, and
’as come into a big fortune of thousands and thousands of pounds a
year.”
“O! you don’t go to tell me as the Doctor’s a haristocrat, too?” cried
Mrs. Battleby, who felt as if all her old acquaintances had suddenly
drifted from her into realms above. “’E who was such a nice-speaking
young gentleman! A Baron! Well! I never! And money into the bargain!
No wonder as they both left the hattics!”
“The Baron ’as a lovely ’ouse in Portland Place,” continued Hannah,
“the most beautiful ’ouse as you ever see--all statues and pictures
and flowering plants. You can’t ’ear your feet in ’is carpets, and ’e
keeps ten or twelve servants. He’s rolling in riches, is the Baron.”
“My!” gasped Mrs. Battleby, too exhausted by astonishment to be able
to say any more.
“And you, my dear,” she resumed, after a pause, “’ow do you git on
with the cooking and that? The Sig-nor, ’e wasn’t very particular, but
if I remembers rightly, you didn’t know nothink of cooking, or of much
else when you fust come to me--did you?”
“No! nor now either,” responded Hannah, with her grandest air, “I ’ave
no call to do anything of the sort. My servant does all that for me!”
“_Your servant!_ Lor! and you keep a servant!” echoed the landlady. “I
never! But in coorse the Sig-nor, being a Markiss, would now, wouldn’t
’e? And ’ave you told all this to your pore mother and father, who
’ave been sadly about you, ever since you runned away from me!”
“No! Mrs. Battleby, and don’t mean to, neither! You don’t suppose as
the Markiss would let such people as my mother and father come about
the ’ouse! It would bemean his rank! They carst me off and they must
keep to theirselves--as well as that ill-mannered young man Joseph
Brushwood! I wouldn’t stop to speak to ’em, not if I met ’em in the
road.”
“Well! Hannah, you ’ave grown ’igh,” replied the other, “but I ’opes
as you’ve given up all them sperrits and devils and things as beset
you ’ere. The Markiss won’t allow them about ’im, I expect!”
“You only says that because you’re so ignorant, Mrs. Battleby,” said
the Markiness, tossing her head; “those who know about the matter says
they’re Science, and all the aristocracy are running after them like
mad! They call them ‘angels’ not ‘devils’, and they _do_ say,”
continued the girl, lowering her voice, and bending towards the
landlady, “that Royalty’s crazy about it, too, and that if I chose to
go to the Palace and show ’em what I can do, that I should be made a
duchess in my own right!”
“O! Hannah--my lady--don’t you go for to do it!” cried Mrs. Battleby,
“for what’s the good of being a duchess, if the Devil ’as got hold of
you! Better remain as you are--a plain markiness! O! I ’ad ’oped as
you’d given it all up and lived quiet and sober, like a married woman
should!”
“O! that would never do!” replied Hannah, “Why! do you know, Mrs.
Battleby, as it’s the best thing I’ve got! The Baron says I’m the
grandest medium in the land, and there ain’t another as can make the
sperrits walk out so soon, and so nateral like! His friends is all mad
to meet me, and I’m to go to ’is ’ouse next week, and sit for the
Russian Ambassador, and the Duke of Standingstone, and two foreign
Princes! Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so quick to take the Markiss,
for I should ’ave ’ad no end of chances, if I ’adn’t been a married
lady!”
“Ah! well! I ’opes it will all end satisfactory,” sighed Mrs.
Battleby, “but it don’t seem right to me! Sperrits is sperrits all the
world over, which we’re told not to meddle with in holy Scriptur, and
I should never be surprised to ’ear as they’d taken you away with
’orns and a tail and a smell of brimstone!”
“I ain’t afeared of that!” said Hannah, “the sperrits are more afraid