“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
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
born--I admit it--and ignorant, but she brings Youth and Health and
Innocence as her portion, and she brings what is better than
all--_Leonora!_”
“If you have quite made up your mind on the subject, I suppose it is
of no use my talking to you any more,” said Steinberg, in a tone of
annoyance.
“No! not if you would try to make me give up my wife, who has not yet
even spoken to me. With Hannah always at my commands, what may I not
accomplish? I can go on and on, until I hold Leonora in my arms again,
fresh, pure and beautiful, as when I first received her as my bride.
Do you not see, Steinberg--cannot you understand--that it is not
_Hannah_ whom I wish to marry, but Leonora whom I wish to call back to
my love and my embrace? And how can I accomplish this, except by
having the medium under my own control? Were I to engage Hannah as my
servant, and give her every comfort, I could never be sure that she
would not leave me for a better situation, but as my wife, she--I
mean, Leonora--will always be with me to my life’s end.”
“I understand your feelings perfectly,” replied the Doctor, “but I
would not have you do this extraordinary thing in too great a hurry. I
am not yet satisfied that the pursuit of Spiritualism is entirely
without its dangers, or that these spirits are always the persons whom
they profess to be! What should you do, if, after you had taken this
irremediable step of marriage, you were to discover that the form
which looks to you now like that of your lost wife, were that of some
stranger?”
“I should try again until I found her,” replied the Professor, “I
should consider my whole life well spent, if I only caught a glimpse
of her at the last!”
“And if this is to be, where do you propose to take Hannah?” continued
his friend.
“I have hardly thought of it! I want your advice on several things.
First, shall I mention my project of marrying her to her parents?”
“I should not! Since they have cast her off, I should take the girl
away with me as my servant, and let the matter alone for a little
while. If she is attached to her lover, as you seem to imagine, she
will probably refuse to listen to your proposal for some time
further.”
“True! then as to a residence----”
“I have something to say about that,” interposed Steinberg. “Some time
ago an acquaintance of mine offered me the lease of a cottage in
Hampstead for the rent of twenty-five pounds. I did not care for the
idea of setting up house by myself, and I did not think I could afford
it, but if you would like me to live with you and share expenses, I
believe we might be very comfortable together, and I could still share
your midnight studies with Hannah.”
“It is the very thing!” cried Ricardo, slapping his knee. “You and I
will pursue our several avocations whilst Hannah looks after the
cottage, and then in the evenings we will return home, to find all
things ready and comfortable for us, and to spend the hours in our
favourite pursuit. But supposing you, too, take it into your head to
marry, my friend, what then? Will the cottage hold us all?”
“Have no fears on that subject,” replied the Doctor, “I am not such a
fool! Excuse me, Professor, but you have heard my sentiments regarding
Marriage and Women long ago. I am wedded to my profession, and have no
wishes outside of Science. If I did not believe Spiritualism to be a
very great Science, disbelieved in by many, simply because it is
altogether above their heads, I should not pursue the knowledge of it.
But as it is----”
“As it is,” interrupted the Professor, gaily, “you _do_ believe in it,
and we will live happily together in the little cottage at Hampstead,
with our good Hannah to look after our temporal wants and assist us in
our spiritual researches. My dear Steinberg, I know of nothing that
has given me so much pleasure as this proposal of yours, for a long
time.”
“I am looking forward to it also,” said Steinberg, “I have long felt
the want of a home and a congenial companion in my leisure hours. My
quarters at the Hospital are too easy of access. I am never sure of
not being disturbed out of canonical hours, and a man does require a
few moments in the day that he can call his own. I must leave you now,
but I will write to my friend to-night about the cottage, and let you
know as soon as possible when we can take possession of it. I have a
few articles of furniture--so have you--and the rest I will procure on
credit. Have no fears, Professor, the cottage will be ours within the
week? But take my advice and think seriously--_very seriously_--before
you decide on the step you contemplate.”
He ran off, leaving Ricardo with his own thoughts, but when the
morning came, he was still of the same mind--he could not part with
Leonora, and if a marriage with Hannah Stubbs was the only way by
which to secure that end, a marriage there must be. He decided,
however, to keep his own counsel on the matter until he had left Mrs.
Battleby’s house.
When his landlady brought up his breakfast on the following morning,
she informed him in a severe tone, that Mrs. Stubbs was down below and
would be glad to hear what were his intentions with regard to her
misguided daughter, as she had to return to Settlefield by the twelve
o’clock train.
“My intentions are, as I told the woman last night, to provide for
Hannah,” replied the Professor, “Doctor Steinberg and I intend to take
a house and live together for the future, and we shall engage Hannah
to do our housework, and pay her at the rate of twenty pounds a year.
Will that satisfy her mother?”
As Hannah had never received more than ten pounds before, Mrs.
Battleby said that she considered the Sig-nor’s offer to be very
handsome, adding “that she didn’t know ’ow it ’appened, but some
people was so lucky, they seemed allays to fall on their feet.”
But when she rejoined her crony, Mrs. Stubbs, her sentiments appeared
to have undergone a change.
“Now! wot wickedness do you think them two is up to?” she commenced.
“The Professor’s been just a’telling me that ’e and ’is accomplish the
Doctor, is going to set up ’ouse and keep Hannah atween ’em, and won’t
they be up to all sorts of mischief, the three on ’em together! I’ll
tell you what it is, Mrs. Stubbs, that gal of yourn is right-down
’ardened, she is, and don’t want no ’ome, nor mother, nor nothink!
She’d rayther be off with them two old scamps, so let ’er go, says I,
till she comes back to ’er senses.”
“Well, if she’s got another sitivation, it’s all as I looks for, for
the gal must earn her living and learn to look arter ’erself into the
bargain. Joe Brushwood, he seems quite set against ’er like, and
wouldn’t come over this morning, though I arsked ’im ever so! ’Owever,
if Hannah’s pervided for, that’s all I arsks and I shall tell ’er
father as it’s all right, and she don’t want to marry Joe, for men are
so inquisitive and troublesome, there’s no a’bearing ’em. Well!
good-bye, Mrs. Battleby, and please to tell my gal as she’s seen the
larst of me and the rest, for we repugniates ’er!”
And gathering her Scotch plaid shawl about her, Mrs. Stubbs laboured
up the area steps and was lost to view. Hannah did not come down to
her breakfast that morning, but appeared an hour later, with red eyes,
a swollen nose, and blubber lips that looked as if she must keep them
open in order to breathe.
She did not speak for some time after she entered the kitchen, and
when she did, it was to ask when Mrs. Battleby expected her mother to
call.
“Your mother!” exclaimed the landlady, in her shrill voice, “why,
she’s been and gone this hour!”
“_Gone!_” cried Hannah, “and won’t she come back? Shan’t I see ’er
again?”
“Not you, I guess, and she was glad enough to go, pore creetur, and
’ide ’er shame in the country. Your young man too--though in course ’e
ain’t your young man no longer--’e wouldn’t step in, not for a minute,
’e was so afeared of seeing you again. You’ve disgraced ’em all,
Hannah Stubbs, that’s the long and the short of it, and they don’t
want to look upon you no more, so the best thing you can do is to go
arter your old gentleman and see what ’_e_ can do for you.”
“What old gentleman?” inquired the girl, “the Professor? O! ’e is
good, I know, and kind. ’E said that ’e would see as I never wanted
nothing, but ’e ain’t mother and ’e ain’t Joe!”
And she commenced to weep afresh.
“Now, look ’ere,” said Mrs. Battleby, “it’s no good your doing that.
It won’t bring ’em back to you, nor wipe out the ’arm you’ve done ’em.
You’d much better go upstairs and clear the Sig-nor’s breakfast
things, for that’s what you’ve got to do for the future, ’e tells me.
It’s your business now, plain enough, so just dry your eyes and do
your dooty, for I’ve got no time to waste over it to-day.”
Hannah did as she was told, and the Professor took the opportunity to
tell her about the new cottage and what he intended her to do for him
there, and she went downstairs again, satisfied, that if she had lost
the good-will of her friends, she had not, at least, the prospect of
starvation before her eyes.