The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
séance! Very unfair, isn’t it? not that I care so much about the
séance, but I would not lose Lady Loreley’s goodwill for all the
world.”
“The Countess believes in Spiritualism then?”
“O! yes! entirely! She is always sitting with some medium or other,
but she says they are very unsatisfactory. She told me yesterday, that
she would give hundreds of pounds to find a medium, who could bring
her little Rosie back to speak with her again.”
“Much better leave the poor child in peace--wherever she may be!”
remarked Mrs. Mostyn with a sneer.
“Perhaps you have never lost a child, Mrs. Mostyn,” said the single
lady.
“No! nor you either, I conclude, my dear,” replied the other, “but all
this talk about Spiritualism is only got up for want of a better
excitement. For my own part I don’t believe a word of it, and I am
sure the Marchesa agrees with me!”
“One should be careful to reserve one’s opinion, when one has not
inquired into a thing!” replied Hannah, as she reclined on her couch
and gently fanned herself.
But when her visitors rose to depart, and Miss Selwyn was about to
leave the room with the rest of the party, she detained her by a
gentle pull at her sleeve.
“Wait a moment longer,” she whispered, “I want to speak to you,” and
Miss Selwyn, who was only too pleased to be singled out for favour by
the Marchesa, dallied with a book of engravings, which lay upon a side
table, until the rest were gone.
“Tell me more about this poor Countess,” said Hannah, drawing nearer
to her; “I feel so interested in any one who has lost a dear child--a
girl, I think you said.”
“O! yes, Marchesa,” replied Miss Selwyn, “Lady Rose Charleville--such
a dear little creature. She died of scarlet fever at seven years old,
and though Lady Loreley has married daughters, she has never forgotten
her. She always cries when Lady Rose is mentioned.”
“Poor dear!” said Hannah, sympathetically, “how I wish I could help
her! And I think I could, if she would come and see me!”
“Could you _really?_” cried Miss Selwyn, clasping her hands, “O!
Marchesa, how she would bless you for it! She would worship you! But
how is it to be accomplished?”
“That is _my_ secret, my dear! I know more of this matter than I chose
to say in public, and if you like to bring your Countess here, I will
introduce her to some one who may put her in the way of seeing her
child again! But you mustn’t chatter on the subject, for if the Baron
heard that I encouraged anything of the sort, he would be very angry.
It is not only your mamma, Miss Selwyn, who disapproves of
Spiritualism.”
“O! I know that, and I would not mention what you have told me for all
the world. But when may I bring the Countess here!”
“On second thoughts, I think you had better tell her what I have said,
and leave her to make her own appointment with me. I could not permit
you to assist at our conference, you know, for fear of offending your
mamma.”
“Perhaps it will be better not,” replied the girl, in a disappointed
tone, “for I have promised mamma never to attend a sitting again. May
I tell Lady Loreley that you will have the medium here to meet her,
Marchesa? I shall see her this evening!”
“You had better say nothing, but what I have told you--that if she
wishes it, I think I can help her to see her child again. Then she can
make an appointment with me, or not, as she chooses!”
“Fancy! her _not_ choosing!” exclaimed Miss Selwyn, “why, she will
rush to you as soon as ever she can!”
And in effect, the very next day Hannah received a coronetted note
from the Countess of Loreley, to say that, with her kind permission,
she would call in Portland Place that afternoon.
CHAPTER XVII.
No one who had seen the Marchesa, as she sat in her drawing-room,
awaiting the arrival of the Countess of Loreley, would have recognised
her as the maid-of-all-work, Hannah Stubbs, who had married Signor
Ricardo, from Mrs. Battleby’s lodging-house, less than three years
before. She wore a robe fashioned by a dressmaker, chosen for her by
the Baron; her abundant hair had been arranged by her lady’s maid in
the height of the prevailing style; she displayed one or two articles
of costly jewelry; she was neither under, nor overdressed.
Her personal appearance, also, was wonderfully improved, Hannah was
not yet twenty-one, but she looked thirty. Her figure was still
unshapely and abundantly covered with flesh, but her skin was
smoother, and her complexion and hands properly attended to.
She was still a coarse specimen of her sex--there have been such
anomalies in this world as coarse and vulgar duchesses, and when bred
to the position into the bargain--and she would never be really
handsome, but there was a bonhomie in her expression, and a frank
good-humour in her smile, which was, perhaps, all that remained of
Hannah Stubbs in her composition.
Lady Loreley, who had been led by Miss Selwyn, to expect something
altogether out of the common in the Marchesa di Sorrento, (--“Awfully
good-natured, dear Lady Loreley, you know, but O! such a moving mass
of flesh--like a female elephant--and says such queer things at times,
but she thinks she can help you and so,” etc, etc,--) was quite taken
by surprise, when Hannah, perfectly at her ease, but with
unquestionable welcome beaming from her eyes, rose from the sofa to
say how pleased she was to make her acquaintance.
The two women sat down to afternoon tea together, and were soon on
friendly terms. Naturally, the topic which engrossed Lady Loreley’s
thoughts was not long in coming to the front.
“Miss Selwyn delivered your most kind message to me, Marchesa,”
commenced the bereaved mother, “and you must not be surprised at my
availing myself of your kindness at so early a period. My dear child
was my idol, the youngest of my large family, and I lost her in so
cruelly sudden a manner. Only four days ill of scarlet fever, and she
had gone from us. She could not stand up against it! She was always
delicate, my poor little Rose! And is it possible that you can help me
to see her? O! Marchesa!” cried the Countess, seizing her hands, “if
you can, I shall be your debtor to the last day of my life. Only one
glimpse, that is all I ask, one glimpse to assure me that she lives
and that I shall meet her again, and I shall die content!”
The Marchesa did not release the Countess’s hands--on the contrary,
she retained and pressed them firmly.
“Is your Ladyship aware of the method pursued in such cases? Do you
know that the services of a materialising medium are necessary, and
that often even they are not successful?”
“Yes! yes! but I should not mind how often I had to sit, if I only
succeed at last! And expense is no object whatever! I have tried all
sorts of mediums, dear Marchesa, but have never heard a word, nor seen
a sign of her! O! it has been heart-rending--discouraging--but I shall
never cease trying till I succeed!”
“I think I know a way by which you can see her!” replied Hannah, whose
eyes had been dreamily fixed upon space for the last minute.
“Pray, pray, tell it to me!” exclaimed the Countess, with agitation.
“One moment! I must ask you first to bind yourself to the strictest
secrecy! My husband, the Baron, is like many in the present day, most
averse to my mixing myself up in Spiritualism with any but himself,
and if he heard that you and I had been sitting together, he would
certainly forbid me to help you any more!”
“I will be secret as the grave!” said Lady Loreley, fervently; “no one
shall ever hear a word of it from me!”
“Not even the Earl, or Miss Selwyn?” asked Hannah.
“No one! Not even my nearest and dearest, unless you give me leave!”
was the reply.
“Then you must come with me to my private boudoir,” said the Marchesa.
“What! is the medium there?”
“Yes! she will be there!” replied Hannah, as she rang the bell and
desired the servant to deny her to any other callers.
Then, she led the way up to her little boudoir, round which the
Countess looked curiously.
“You have successfully concealed your medium, dear Marchesa!” she
said.
“No! Lady Loreley, she is in full view! _I_ am the medium!”
Her visitor started with surprise.
“_You!_ Are you jesting with me, Marchesa? Is it possible that you can
call back the spirits of the Dead?”
“Just as possible as anybody else! No one can _call_ them back, Lady
Loreley! But they come all the same, when they get the opportunity!
Are you nervous? Shall you be afraid to sit in the dark with me?”
“O! no! I don’t think so,” replied the Countess, who was already
shivering with fright.
Hannah lowered the blinds, closed the dark red silk curtains, locked
the door and taking a seat on the sofa, invited Lady Loreley to sit
beside her and hold her hand.
“But don’t you require a table?” inquired the Countess.
“Not that I know of,” replied Hannah. “No spirit that has ever come to
me, has made any request of the sort! I don’t even know if they use
tables over there. Don’t you see a bluish mist rising, close by the
window curtains? Don’t be frightened if I go to sleep. I generally do,
but you will be quite safe. Nothing can hurt you.”
And as she was in the midst of talking thus, the Marchesa went under
control and knew nothing more. When she awoke, she found the Countess
of Loreley on her knees before her, sobbing as if her heart would
break.
“O! you dear Angel!” she cried, “I can never, _never_ thank you
enough, for what you have done for me to-day. You are a wonder! a
miracle! You must have been sent on earth by God, expressly to give
comfort to broken-hearted mothers like myself!”
“Why! have you seen anything?” demanded Hannah, rousing herself from
her benumbing trance.
“Seen anything!” echoed Lady Loreley, “I have seen that which has
transformed me from a despairing woman to a happy one! I have seen my
little Rose! You said you saw a bluish mist near the window. She
walked straight out of that mist, and smiled at me! I spoke to her,
and I thought her lips moved, but I could not hear any words, but she
smiled at me--she stood there in her little white nightdress and bare
feet, just as she was, dear darling! when I laid her in her
coffin--and I know she lives, and I am happy once more--and O! dear
Marchesa, what can I ever do to show my gratitude to you?”
“Only be quiet,” said Hannah, holding up her hand, “and say nothing to
anybody. Come and see me sometimes, Lady Loreley, and the more
intimate you become with me, the more clearly you will see your little
Rose, and the more confidently will she come back to you! Did no one
else appear?”
“No one whom I recognised! An old man’s face seemed hovering over your
head, but it frightened me rather, and I did not look.”
At those words “an old man’s face”, the Marchesa seemed to shiver
slightly, and her next injunction was delivered rather hurriedly,
“Now, mind, Countess, you must not breathe a word of what has occurred
this afternoon to any one, or it will never happen again. The Baron
would be so angry he would forbid my sitting with you at all! You can
see that I say this for _your_ sake, more than for my own.”
“O! yes, indeed,” said Lady Loreley, “but, Marchesa--I was going to
ask you such a great favour! My eldest daughter, the Duchess of
Penywern, lost her baby last year--such a splendid boy, heir, of
course, to the title and estates, and she would give her life, I
verily believe, to see him again.
“And my aunt, Lady John Valerian, who is most interested in
Spiritualism, would consider it such an inestimable favour, if you
would let her accompany me, next time I have the pleasure of visiting
you! They would be as silent as myself concerning our visits here, I
can assure you, and I am certain you would like them both--my daughter
especially, who is a most amiable young woman.”