The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
Ricardo rose, and (Hannah having re-appeared with the hot water)
produced various pungent spices and gums, and with dried herbs and
other mysterious preparations from a drawer, commenced to separate
them into measured portions and to crumble them into a bowl.
“What is all this about?” demanded Steinberg, who having lit his pipe
and got a tumbler of hot grog by his side, was disposed to view his
friend’s doings from a humorous point of view.
“It would take too long to explain a mixture to you, which it has
taken me years to collect and assimilate,” said Ricardo, “but it is
the only potion that I have found really effectual--the only one that
has brought the spirits round me. Some of these essences and oils came
from India. An old friend of mine out there, took the trouble to
collect and preserve them for me, and others I have paid far more than
I can afford, for, but the result has been worth it all, as you shall
judge for yourself!”
“But how, in the name of all that’s wonderful, can a few scents,
however potent, have the power to attract, or cause to be visible,
spirits of air?” demanded the Doctor.
“You must tell me first what those spirits are composed of,” replied
the Professor. “You, as a medical man, know that our bodies are
composed of chemicals--it stands to reason therefore, that our
spiritual bodies are composed of the same, though varying from the
earthly ones, as they themselves do. When you can give me a list of
the chemicals, or essences, composing the spiritual part of ourselves,
I may be able to find out why certain decoctions attract them hither
and enable them to become visible to mortal sight. The fact is,
Steinberg, it is all a great Mystery, which perhaps we are not
intended to solve. But what is not a Mystery? Can you tell me that?
What are Birth and Death, but unfathomable Mysteries, that we shall
never know the meaning of, in this world? We accept them as ordinary
things, because we see them happen every day, but we know no more
about them--how they happen or how they are to be prevented--than you
know of this mixture, which is now ready to be set alight to.”
“Come on, old friend, then,” replied the Doctor, as he led the way
into the séance chamber.
Ricardo carried a lighted taper, and matches, which he was careful to
secure in his pocket, for it was like a vault they entered. The sombre
hangings which enveloped the apartment, shutting out both light and
air, and the musty smell which came from them, mingled with the stale
scent of the incense, made the place feel uncanny. Ricardo walked up
to the cushions on the floor, and told Steinberg to seat himself on
one of them. Having deposited himself beside him, and set alight to
the incense, he blew out the candle, and the wreathing smoke which
ascended from the bowl was the only illumination in the room.
Steinberg began to feel uneasy, notwithstanding his vaunted
incredulity. The German nation is famous for its many tales and
legends of ghostly lore, and however our reason may seem to disprove
their authenticity, our faith is prone to cling to the truths which
have been instilled into our minds during childhood.
As he watched the smoke curling up towards the ceiling, Steinberg felt
unusually cold--the little room seemed to fill with a chilly wind
which blew upon his face and hands--and the silence which his
companion maintained served to increase the gloom.
“May we not talk?” he whispered, presently, to Ricardo.
“Certainly, if you feel so inclined,” returned the Professor, “but for
myself, the occasion always seems so solemn, that I can only hold
commune with my own thoughts and think of--her!”
“And you are not in the least alarmed?” inquired the Doctor, who had
felt his companion leaning very hard against his shoulder, as if for
confidence and support.
“Not in the slightest. I am awed--but not frightened,” was the reply.
“Why, then, do you lean so hard against me?” said Steinberg.
“I am not touching you,” replied Ricardo, “I am too far away! I am not
seated on the cushion now, but in the centre of the room.”
“Not seated on the cushion?” repeated Steinberg. “Then--in God’s
Name!--_who is?_”
“How can I tell? I have already said that I am not near you! Doubtless
one of the spirits who visit me, is anxious to convince you of his
identity. Speak to him, Steinberg! As yet, I have been unable to make
them speak to me! You may be more successful.”
But the Doctor had already rolled off the cushion towards the door.
“Let me out!” he cried, “I will not stay here a moment longer! I told
you when you first made this infamous proposal to me, that it was
diabolical!--that none but evil spirits could be induced to hold
communication with men. And this must have been a devil, I am sure of
it, else he would have had the decency to give me some warning, before
sitting down beside me. Open the door, Professor! I have been brought
up a Lutheran, and my Church forbids all such practices as these. I
refuse to stay in this room any longer!”
“All right! It is all right!” said the Professor, as he drew the key
from his pocket and unlocked the door, “you are frightened, that is
all. I thought you would not be so brave when you came to see and feel
them. But how about it’s being all my imagination, eh, Doctor?”
Karl Steinberg, restored to the light, felt that he cut rather a sorry
figure. His cheeks were blanched with terror, and his limbs shook from
the same cause. But he tried to laugh it off.
“Now, confess, Professor, that you have been playing me a trick,” he
said, “it was you who came up and leant so hard against me, wasn’t it?
You thought you’d catch me tripping, you know, and put me in a blue
funk. But you haven’t succeeded, I’m as cool as a cucumber!”
Ricardo looked at him reproachfully.
“You are wrong,” he replied, “and you know you are wrong! If it were
I, and you knew it, why didn’t you throw your arms round me? Why did
you insist upon leaving the room? And why do you look so blue about
the mouth and chin? Ah! no, my friend, you know it was not I, as well
as I do! And such a pity too! They were coming so beautifully. They
have never come so quickly before. You are just the man to help me.
Come now, come back for a little, and I will promise to sit close to
you all the while!”
And he laid his hand on that of the Doctor, as he spoke. But Steinberg
pulled his vehemently away.
“No! no! not for all the world,” he ejaculated, “I will not play with
the Devil any longer! You must conduct your diabolical practices by
yourself.”
“But you will acknowledge they are not fraud then--that there is
something to be frightened at?”
“I will acknowledge nothing! I am not in a fit state to argue the
matter to-night. To-morrow, perhaps, I may be able to judge more
calmly. All that I can say is, that I refuse to enter that room
again.”
“If I could only persuade you,” continued the Professor, “if you had
only waited a little while and watched the smoke from the bowl, you
would have seen such beautiful forms shaping themselves amongst it!
Women and little children like cherubs--sometimes I have sat up all
night unable to tear myself away from so beautiful a sight!”
“All emissaries of the Evil One,” replied Steinberg, who was still
shaking from the scare he had received, “sent perhaps to lure you to
your destruction. Take care what you are about, Ricardo! Some morning
you may be found missing--dragged down to the Infernal Regions by
these demons, who assume the appearance of Angels of Light in order to
deceive you.”
“_The Infernal Regions!_” exclaimed the other, excitedly, “and what
would they signify to me, if I am never to see, nor speak, with my
Leonora more. Ah! Steinberg, I forget! You know nothing but the name
of this Love, which could turn Heaven into Hell without the presence
of the Beloved One, and vice vêrsa. Had you loved and lost as I have,
you would sit in that room, not a night, but every night, till you
heard some news of her who made your world.”
“Perhaps,” replied Steinberg, stolidly, “but you see, I haven’t.”
“But you will try again, will you not? You will come when this first
alarm has subsided, and see if you cannot stand it better? I, too,
felt fear when first I sat alone and watched the spirits rise from the
incense I had lighted, with my own hands. But that has all gone! I am
as calm now as the dead themselves! And so will you be, if you will
only try again!”
“_Never!_ Not for all the wealth of the Indies would I enter that
accursed room of my own free will, again. I am going, Ricardo! I don’t
feel well! I think the smell of the incense has upset me! Forgive me
for leaving you so soon, but I shall be better at home. Good-night!”
He ran hastily down the stairs as he spoke, and the Professor,
ruminating on the little trust there is to be put in one’s friends in
time of need, retired sadly to his bed.
CHAPTER III.
Signor Ricardo passed a restless night. His disappointment preyed
upon his mind and robbed him of sleep. He had so long wished to ask
Steinberg to join him in his pursuit of Occultism--had so depended on
his assistance--and prophesied their mutual success--that the Doctor’s
abject terror at his first experience, had thrown cold water on all
his hopes.
Leonora seemed further off than ever, and he groaned in spirit to
think she might be so near, and yet he was unable to communicate with
her, and ascertain if he had been right or wrong in the indulgence of
his revenge. Had his dead wife stood before him then, he would hardly
have known what he most desired to hear her say. If she declared her
innocence, his rash act had made him doubly guilty, yet if she
confessed that he had been right, she was lost to him for ever.
But the Signor hardly thought of that--the burning truth was all he
wished to discover. The real fact being, that Leonora had been all and
much worse than he had ever believed her to be. She had been a
heartless coquette of the worst dye--vain, deceitful, and
self-seeking--caring nothing whom she wounded, so long as her
insatiate vanity was gratified--with no thought, so long as she gained
her cause, over whose dead bodies she trampled on her road to Victory.
She had been guilty with Lorenzo Centi, and half-a-dozen other men,
and the death-blow which her husband’s dagger gave her, was the very
smallest punishment which she deserved.
Yet Ricardo was not satisfied. With Leonora, whom he had so fondly
worshipped, dead, his belief in her iniquity had died also, and all
his fear was, lest he had slain a woman who loved him as much as he
loved her. And he knew of no way by which his doubts could be laid to
rest, except by bringing her back from the grave to tell him the truth
with her own lips.
As he lay in his narrow bed that night, he conjured the Almighty by
every petition he could think of, to permit her to return, if only for
a moment, and allay his bitter fears by one means or the other. But no
answer came to his prayer. No sound nor sight came out of the darkness
to afford him the consolation of knowing that his prayer had reached
the Throne. His Heavenly Father had deserted him; he was a child left
out in the darkness and the cold; left to find his way home by
himself. If he wandered from the beaten track, who could blame him? No
helping hand was stretched out to guide him; no light appeared in the
distance to show him the way; he must penetrate the Mysteries of
Nature by himself, and as best he could. Once or twice during that
long night, the Professor fancied he saw a faint, tremulous movement
of the curtains that hung round his bed--thought he heard a whisper
penetrate the air;--but he listened, and strained his eyes in
vain--nothing more rewarded his rapt attention.