CHAPTER VIII.
“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.