CHAPTER XI.

The Professor felt very dull for the first few days after Karl Steinberg had left them for Berlin. He rejoiced at the good fortune that had befallen his friend, but he feared it might prove a separation between them. With only Hannah to talk to, he felt more lonely than he had ever done in Mrs. Battleby’s apartments.

He watched for the post eagerly, to bring him news of his absent companion, and in about ten days his patience was rewarded by receiving a letter from Steinberg.

The Doctor wrote gaily and enthusiastically. He seemed not to have a care left in the world.

“Congratulate me, my very kind friend,” he commenced; “I am a wealthier man than I imagined. We laid my good uncle to rest in the family vault of the Von Steinbergs, three days after my arrival in Berlin. He was a childless man, and when the will was read I found that (with the exception of a liberal life-allowance to his widow) he had left everything, without reserve, to your humble servant. His house in Berlin--his château at Wiesbaden--his fortune, amounting to between three and four thousand a year--and all his personal property, which includes one of the finest private picture galleries in the country.

“Am I not lucky? I feared at first lest this generous bequest should involve my living in Germany, perhaps looking after landed estate or farming country property (which is not at all in my line, my dear Ricardo, as you are aware). But no! Even here, I am fortunate, as the greater part of the legacy is in hard cash, and the houses can readily be disposed of. I am free, therefore, to do as I like and live where I choose, and all my wishes tend towards London, the grandest city in the world. You may expect, therefore, before very long, to see me again.

“I shall take a house in Town, and collect around me all those whom I love, or take an interest in. And for the future, I shall resume my right of writing ‘von’ before my name, which I dropped when I entered on my duties at the Hospital. Ah! those dreary days and sleepless nights! Thank Heaven! they are over for ever! I can, at least, live the remainder of my life as best pleases myself. But I can never, never, under any circumstances, forget my very best friend, and you know what his name is, without my telling you.

“The first place I visit on my return, will be the little cottage at Hampstead, when, tell Mrs. Ricardo, I shall expect her to brew the very best cup of tea of which she is capable, in honour of my uncle’s fortune and title.

“Ever yours, with warm affection, “Karl von Steinberg.”

The Professor read this letter to himself--then aloud to Hannah--finally laying it down upon the table with a deep sigh.

“Ain’t you glad?” demanded his wife, shrewdly regarding the old man, “the Doctor’ll ’ave a fine ’ouse now, and everythink of the best, and that’s as good as saying as you’ll ’ave it,--and me, too, eh?”

“I don’t know, Hannah,” he replied; “when men grow rich, they are too often apt to forget their poorer friends. Besides, Von Steinberg’s fortune will attract people of equal position round his table, and we are not fit to associate with such.”

“Why not?” asked Hannah, broadly.

She had a household broom in her hands at the time, and she leant her chin upon the handle, and stared the Professor well in the face.

“Why ain’t we as good as any other of ’is friends--let them be who they may?” she asked, fixing her large eyes upon him.

“Well! my dear, it is rather unnecessary to put such a question,” replied Ricardo, “money makes money, you know, and we have none. Karl will have a grand house, doubtless, and give big parties, and rich and titled people will attend them--people with whom you and I have nothing to do! He is not only rich, you see! He is no longer a doctor, but a Baron, and can hold his own with any one in the land.”

“Ain’t a Markiss higher than a Baron?” demanded Hannah, and her husband, not dreaming in what direction the conversation was tending, answered gravely, “Why! of course!”

“Then, you’re higher than him,” retorted his wife, “so why shouldn’t you mix with any nobs as he gets round him?”

Ricardo looked up in amazement.

“_I_ am higher than Von Steinberg? What do you mean?” he said.

“Why! ain’t you a Markiss?” reiterated Hannah, still sturdily regarding him from over the broom; “the Markiss of Sorrento? If you’re bigger than the Doctor, why should you mind going among ’is friends? Money don’t count beside name. I’ve often ’eard you say that to me.”

“But who--_who_--” said the Professor, stammering, “ever told you anything about my having a title? Has Steinberg betrayed my trust? You have never known me, except as Professor Ricardo! What do you mean by all this talk about a Marquis?”

Hannah looked as if she had been suddenly struck foolish. The light faded out of her flat, unmeaning face--she seemed as if she were scared at what she had been led into saying.

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” she replied, with a quivering lip, as if she were about to cry, “unless I dreamt it! Some one must ’ave told it me. Markiss dee Sorrento! Yes! that’s it! Markiss dee Sorrento! There’s a woice repeating it in my ears now! And--and--_the proof of it_ is in that drawer,” she continued rapidly, as she slapped her hand down upon a small writing-table where the Professor kept his private papers.

Now the title deeds of the marquisate and lands of Sorrento were still in the Professor’s possession, lest a change of dynasty might restore his family rights to him. But he always kept them in a small iron safe under his bed. He had destroyed every other trace of the rank and position he had once held amongst men, and felt certain that nothing could be found in his desk to betray them. So he answered, somewhat pettishly,

“These voices in your ears, Hannah, are not telling you the truth! You had much better go and attend to your household duties, and leave off talking rubbish!”

But at these words Hannah turned a face upon him, which he could hardly recognise as her own. Her usually dull eyes were blazing with passion--and her tones were loud and authoritative, as she exclaimed,

“It is _you_ who are not telling the truth! The proofs of what I say are in that drawer, and I will not leave the room until you open it!”

The Professor was really frightened. He felt confident that nothing was in the drawer that could identify his name and title, so, more to pacify her and restore peace between them than to prove his word, he drew forth his bunch of keys, and inserting one in the keyhole, pulled the drawer open. It apparently contained nothing but odd sheets of writing paper, and a few old letters.

“Now! are you satisfied that you are wrong?” he said, turning to his wife.

But Hannah seemed possessed by the fury of a demon. She flew at the papers and scattered them all over the floor by a twist of her hand. Still she was not content, but scratched about the bottom of the receptacle as if she were blind or acting under some spell, when she suddenly ceased, and drew from the inmost recesses of the drawer, a small card, yellow with age, which had become wedged at the back. She held it to the light with a discordant chuckle of triumph. On it was printed in flourishing Italian characters, “Marchese di Sorrento.”

“What is that?” she cried, holding it out to the Professor, “is that your name, or is it not?”

Ricardo was fain to confess the truth.

“Sit down, Hannah, my dear,” he said, “compose yourself, I beg of you! There is no need for you to be angry with me! Be patient and I will tell you the whole story.”

“Is that your name, or is it not?” repeated the girl, as she flourished the card in his face.

“Yes! yes! it is, will that content you? But I shall never use it again, Hannah! I have very good reasons for not doing so, and you must regard this discovery on your part as if it had never been. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t know as I do,” said Hannah; “this is your true name, you say?”

“Yes! I am the Marchese di Sorrento,” replied Ricardo, with some degree of pride, “but, as I said before, I have discarded the title and consider that it is no longer mine! I am sorry you ever found it out, my dear. I should never have told you myself, but as it is, you must forget it as soon as you can.”

“If it’s your name, it’s mine too,” said Hannah, with an obstinate look about the mouth.

“It _would_ have been so, had I retained it,” interposed the Professor, quietly, “but since I choose to be known only as Signor Ricardo, my wife is Madame, or Mrs. Ricardo--nothing more!”

“If it’s mine, it’s mine,” returned Hannah, doggedly, “and I don’t see why I’m to be called out of my name! Why should Mrs. Barnett, the grocer’s wife, call me ‘Missus’, when she ought to say ‘my lady?’ I ’eard ’er telling another customer larst night, as I was a foreigner! Like ’er impidence! I’ll shew ’er if I’m a foreigner! I’ll make ’er say ‘my lady’ next time she speaks to me, or I’ll get all our things from Addison’s.”

“Hannah! Hannah! for Heaven’s sake, don’t make us the laughing stock of Hampstead,” exclaimed the Professor, in genuine distress, “however true the story may be, no one will believe it from your lips. They will ask you, if you are a lady, _why_ you do all the house-work by yourself. Such people as you speak of, only value their acquaintances by the amount of money they may happen to possess.”

“And I don’t see why I shouldn’t ’ave a servant to help me!” replied Hannah, boldly. “If I’m a Markiness, it isn’t fit as I should cook and scrub and what not, making my ’ands filthy, and spoiling my complexion. I’ve been going to speak to you about that afore, Professor--I mean Markiss----”

“O! Hannah! for God’s sake, don’t call me by that name!” cried poor Ricardo, with both his fingers in his ears.

“Well! I’m sure!” exclaimed his wife. “I s’pose _she_ called you by it, or summat very similar, but I ain’t good enough, eh? Well! since I’ve a right to it, I’m going to use it, and so I tells you straight, and the sooner you gets accustomed to it, the better. ’Tain’t much as I got by marrying of you, Markiss, so you might as well leave me the name. ’Twon’t bring in bread and butter anyway!”

“I know it, and what is the use of using a title which you cannot keep up in appearance? We have only enough money to live on, and I see no chance of our ever having more.”

“I don’t know about that!” replied the girl, with a cunning look, “I know of a way by which money could be made, and pretty sharp, too.”

“What do you mean? If you are correct, you will find me willing enough to take advantage of it!”

“Well! you just give out as I can make the sperrits and things walk about the room, and make folks pay to come and see them, and you’d make a fortune. I’ve ’eard Steinberg say so, times out of mind!”

“O! no! no!” exclaimed the Professor, in disgust. “What! make the vision of my Leonora common property? Let every Jack and Jill, who has the money to enable them, come and gape at her, sharers with me in this heavenly pleasure! Never! Hannah, never! I cannot prevent your adopting my title if you refuse to comply with my request that you should not do so, but I utterly forbid your turning your divine gift into a merchandise. I am afraid you have never estimated it at its real value!”

“No! I can’t say I see much fun in it myself,” replied Hannah, grinning, “but it got me out of a precious muddle, didn’t it? I don’t know what I should have done at that time, Professor, if you ’adn’t taken a fancy to sperrits and things!”

“You appear to have conquered all your fear of them, Hannah,” remarked the Professor, musingly. “You have altered in many ways lately! I never hear you object to the cabinet now, nor express terror of the spirits, in any way.”

“I’ve no call left to be feared of them,” replied his wife, still grinning, as if her mediumship were an excellent joke. “They’re allays after me, day and night! I’ve got so used to them, that I don’t take no more notice of them than I do of you. Let them go on with their larks, and leave me to go on with mine!”

“And your father and mother, and Joe, Hannah?” continued the Professor, a little wistfully; “do you never think of them now, either?”

It seemed as if he would have liked to hear her say that she still hankered after her people and her home. But her grin remained unabated.

“Not often,” she replied; “they ain’t no good to me now! As for Joe, he may go to the devil for aught I care!”

“O! hush! hush! hush!” cried the Professor.

“It’s of no use your saying, ‘’ush! ’ush! ’ush!’ to me, Sig-nor! You don’t want me to be ’ankering after a young man now that I’m the Markiness dee Sorrento, do you? Which I don’t, I’m sure! I often wonders ’ow I could ever ’ave fancied Joe, with his coarse ’air, and his pig’s eyes! I’m sure if I ’ad my rights and a ’ouse fit for a Markiness, I would never arsk ’im into it! I’d ’ave no one under a Barrow-knight, or a squire, within the walls. I should know ’ow to play my part, you bet, Professor--I means, Markiss!”

Ricardo sighed.

“Well! my poor girl, I fear you will never have the opportunity of trying it,” he said. “But will you give me a séance this evening! I feel rather low-spirited, and it will cheer me and do me good.”

“O! you can ’ave it and welcome,” replied Hannah, “but, I say Markiss, it do seem a pity now, to ’ave all this fuss, and two good hours wasted, only for you, don’t it? And if we ’ad a dozen or so of strangers with their ’alf guinea each, why, I’d make more in a night than you can do in a week.”

She hung coaxingly over him, as she spoke, but Ricardo put her away, as though the suggestion had come from the Evil One.

“I have said ‘No!’ already, and I would repeat it a thousand times!” he ejaculated. “You don’t know what you are talking of! Your insinuation is a desecration of the angel, for whom alone I value your services.”

“Didn’t _she_ like being a Markiness?” asked Hannah, as she left the room to make some little preparations before the séance.

Her remark set Ricardo thinking how much all women are alike.

“How they love a title!” he pondered inwardly. “Although Leonora was of noble birth, I can well remember her pleasure, less roughly expressed than that of this poor untutored girl, but still the same, when she first assumed my name, and heard herself called Marchesa di Sorrento.

“And how proud I was of her, with her lovely face and swan-like figure, all life and grace! She looked a Marchioness, from the crown of her noble head to her dainty feet. But this poor, uncouth child of nature! I never thought of the disgrace to my title, when I married her! Steinberg reminded me of it, but I considered it dead, and myself only as a drudging teacher! How did she find out about it, I wonder! It is inconceivable--still more, that she should take such a keen pleasure in assuming it! Well! it is a misfortune, but I cannot prevent her! It _is_ her name beyond all dispute, and if she will use it, she must!

“But how changed she has become during the last few weeks. Sometimes I regard her with amazement and cannot believe she is the same Hannah I married! Where is her timidity--her stolidity--her implacable good humour--her fear of me and Von Steinberg, flown? She has become brisk and pert, almost dominant in her manner--and at times I catch a look in her eye, as though her soul had but just waked up and was astonished at its own power. Yet with it all, I like her better--yes! there is decidedly something that I like better in Hannah now, than when I first married her!

“But this folly about assuming her title! How I wish Von Steinberg would hasten home, that he might reason her out of it!”

Here, his wife’s voice summoned him to the séance chamber, and he was soon absorbed in watching for the wonders which his sittings with her revealed to him.

One point had rather worried him lately, and that was the defection of his beloved Leonora, or rather, the little advance which she made towards development. Ricardo had imagined on commencing his studies in Occultism, that the apparitions would grow with the growth of his knowledge of them, and from being visible but silent, would progress in language, as in familiarity, until they would converse with him as easily as if they stood face to face on earth, or in Heaven.

He had a thousand things to ask of Leonora. He yearned to ascertain where she now lived--how she employed herself--what associates she had--and how her spirit life was sustained in her; above all, by what mystical wonder, she managed to leave her Heavenly dwelling-place and visit him in the little dark chamber, which he called his séance room, and through the instrumentality of so rough and untutored a medium as Hannah Stubbs.

But though he addressed such queries to the apparition of Leonora night after night, he never received any satisfactory reply. A shrug of the shoulders--a shake or nod of the head--a whispered “Yes!” or “No!” seemed to be the extent of information he could receive from her.

Naturally, having been her husband, he longed to touch her again, to put his lips to hers, or to grasp the little white hand which was invariably thrust through the curtain to greet him.

But such favours were sparingly accorded him. If he were permitted to touch her hand, it was only to pat the outside of it--if her face were advanced to meet his, it merely brushed his cheek, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. And, as he had complained to Von Steinberg, her visits had become far less frequent than they had been at first. Strangers, in whom he felt but sparse interest, had taken her place and usurped the time and power, which he considered Leonora’s.

But this evening, after an interval of several days, she appeared. Her dark eyes peeped at him through a veil of gossamer, which fell to her feet, and her lissom form swayed itself to and fro, as though loath to leave the sheltering curtain.

Ricardo was in the lowest spirits. He could think of nothing but the subject that immediately disquieted him.

“My beautiful Marchesa!” he said, as Leonora’s form appeared at the entrance of the cabinet, “can you guess how distasteful it is to me to hear the title which you adorned, usurped by another? _She_ a Marchesa! O! it is impossible!--degrading--poor uncouth, ignorant creature! she little knows the height to which she aspires. She could as soon sit as Queen, upon the throne of England! Forgive me, sweetest Love, that I should have given this ungainly servant the semblance of your position. But she is not _my wife_, Leonora! You know it! Her name is but an empty sound! I have been widowed since the fatal night that saw your pure spirit wing its flight to Heaven, and I shall 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.