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.

“Leonora! my beloved!” he said, in a low voice, as he sat up in bed, and tried to pierce the gloom with his mortal vision; “Leonora! come to me--speak to me! Tell me the truth! I will not be angry now! I know we all have sinned, and you were but mortal like myself--only solve these doubts. If you were innocent of wronging me--if that bitter blow was a foul injury to your faith to me, I will bear the purgatory it will bring me, thankfully, only to know that you are dwelling in the Light of God! And if it was only an act of justice--if, in the heat of your youth and carelessness, you were unfaithful to your marriage vow, I forgive you, my Beloved,--I forgive you from my heart, and will tell you so, as soon as we meet in another world. Only come to me, my wife--only look at me! whisper one word of affection, and I shall live and die, content!”

So the poor lover and husband raved, only to be answered by silence and gloom. Leonora was there! He felt it, but he had not sufficient power by himself, to enable her to manifest her spiritual presence to him. If Steinberg would not sit with him, he must find some one else--for he could not stand the suspense and anxiety much longer.

He tossed and turned in his bed until daylight, and rose with the earliest dawn, worn and haggard, with the intention of walking in the Park before he took his breakfast. It was seven o’clock as the Professor turned out of the front door of his dingy lodgings--an unprecedented thing on his part, for he usually sat up so late, that he did not leave the house until his first lessons were due. As he reached the lower passage, he found the front door open and the girl Hannah cleaning the steps. Ricardo passed her with a bow, for he was a most courteous man in his dealings with women, but Hannah’s head was bent upon her work, and she did not see him. As Ricardo gained the pavement he turned and looked at her. She was kneeling in the attitude in which such work is done, and her slip-shod shoes which had half fallen off, left her feet, encased in black worsted stockings, well exposed to view. They were large feet, as has been said before, and two holes in her stockings left the naked heels bare for the admiration of the passers-by. The Professor stopped for a moment and regarded those heels. They were not pretty perhaps, but they were rosy and firm, and undeniably youthful, and somehow they inspired him with a certain amount of compassion, to think that such young flesh should have to bear its burden of life so soon. He stood as though transfixed by the sight of those two rosy heels. No thought of lust, or even admiration, entered his mind, which was far too sensitive and refined for any feeling of the kind, but they excited his pity, and carried him back somehow to the days when he, too, was young and innocent. He felt as if he wanted to say something kind to the poor young girl who had begun so early to drudge for others. The rosy heels, though only seen through the ugly medium of a pair of ragged stockings, attracted him as a callow nestling with gaping beak, or a little pink apple hanging in an orchard might have done. He would have no desire to possess the callow bird, and the idea of eating the sour apple would have set his teeth on edge--yet they would have carried with them a memory of the days when he would have enjoyed them both--and in this light he felt drawn towards Hannah Stubbs as she scrubbed the front door steps. He had a shilling in his pocket, and he stepped back to give it to her. Perhaps a shilling might represent many things that would give pleasure to the little household drudge--but as the Professor drew near to her the second time, he perceived that Hannah was crying and the tears were dropping on the flags she knelt upon, and mingling with the hearth-stone. Tears in the eyes of a woman always excited the Signor’s sympathy, and, forgetting the shilling, he inquired eagerly why Hannah wept.

The girl looked frightened at being detected in such an act of self-indulgence.

“It’s nothing, Sir--nothing!” she exclaimed, as she hastily rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and smeared her face over with the hearth-stone.

“O! come, that cannot be quite true,” replied Ricardo, “I’m sure you are not so foolish as to cry for nothing! Perhaps you have left your friends for the first time, and are new to service, and it seems hard to you. Is that so?”

The girl seemed grateful for the enquiry.

“It ain’t that, Sir,” she said, shaking her head. “In course I was sorry to leave mother and father and the rest, but ’tain’t that as makes me cry. We’ve all got to arn our bread, and mother said it was time I was doing of something--and she will be so angry if I goes ’ome again so soon--that she will!” and Hannah commenced to sob anew.

“But why should you go, Hannah? Is not Mrs. Battleby satisfied with you?”

“No, Sir, I’m afeared not, though I does all I can, but she’s angry with me a’cause of the plates and dishes which they keeps slipping about, but I’m as careful of them as I can be, Sir, and I can’t ’elp the tables and chairs ’opping round the room--and whatever mother will think I don’t know! She’ll say it’s such a disgrace, but it ain’t my fault--Boo-hoo-hoo!” and here Hannah commenced to blubber afresh, till the Professor began to fear that she would attract the attention of the passers-by.

“Now, look here, my good girl,” he said, “don’t cry, or you will make Mrs. Battleby still more angry. The neighbours will think she has been beating you. Listen to me! Mrs. Battleby’s a good soul, though rather strict perhaps, but I’ve known her a long time, and if you’ll promise me to dry your eyes, and be as careful as you can of the china, I’ll speak to her on your behalf when I come back from business this evening, and see if I cannot induce her to give you another trial.”

“I’m sure you’re mortal good, Sir,” said the girl, as she dug her knuckles afresh into her eyes.

“Never mind the goodness! You do your work as well as ever you can, to-day, and I’ll see what I can do for you on my return. What is your other name, Hannah?”

“Stubbs, Sir! I’m a Shropshire girl--was raised there, and never left the village I was born in till mother sent me to Lunnon. Lor! how I wish she ’adn’t! Father is that hard on me, and what they’ll say if I’m sent back in disgrace--Mother and Joe and all--I’m sure I don’t know!”

“Who is Joe?” asked the Professor, kindly, “your brother?”

“No, Sir! My young man.”

“Your young man! So you have a young man of your own already! And why did you come out to service, then, Hannah? Why did you not marry Joe instead?”

The girl gave a conscious grin as she replied:

“_We_ was willing enough, Sir, but mother wouldn’t hear on’t. She said Joe hadn’t enough to keep hisself, let alone me, and that a few years’ service would do me all the good in the world. But it seems ’ard for to leave ’ome and all.”

“Never mind, Hannah! I daresay your mother knows best, and the time will pass quicker than you imagine. Any way I shall not forget to speak for you to Mrs. Battleby, so good-morning!” And Ricardo went on his way, smiling slightly to himself.

Since the fatal night when his hand had sent the woman he loved best to her last account, Ricardo had felt very tenderly towards all women, for her sake. He was so dreadfully afraid of making another mistake about them. He thought more of this shapeless, ungainly girl as he took his walk in the Park, than he could have believed possible--not of her ugliness, nor awkwardness, nor little troubles--but of those mysterious wonderful eyes of which she did not seem conscious, but which looked as if they saw that which was invisible to every one else. How strange that such eyes--so the Professor thought--should be set in so rough a face and figure; eyes, which the greatest beauty in the land might have envied, combined with a shape which no decent housemaid would have cared to exhibit.

If Hannah’s eyes had not been so mystical in appearance, would the Signor have borne her ordinary troubles so faithfully in mind, and spoken with Mrs. Battleby about their alleviation on the first opportunity? It is doubtful! Man, however supine, is apt to be led by his fancy. Any way, when his landlady made her appearance with his evening meal, he opened the subject at once.

“Mrs. Battleby, my good friend, I want to speak with you, on behalf of your little maid, Hannah! How has she offended you? Is she very stupid, very clumsy, very impertinent? Why do you propose to send her back to her good mother, who will doubtless be unpleasantly disappointed to see her again.”

“Has Hannah presumed to complain of me to you, Sig-nor?” demanded the landlady, becoming instantly stiff and rigid with indignation.

“O! no, indeed, but I take interest in the troubles of the young. We have all been young, Mrs. Battleby, and all been ignorant and wilful and done silly things. I saw this young girl weeping this morning and stopped to ask her the reason, and all she said was, that you intended to send her home again and she feared her people would be very angry with her.”

“If you’ll excuse me taking a seat, for them stairs try my breath dreadful,” said Mrs. Battleby, as she plumped herself down on one of the Professor’s chairs, “I’ll tell you all about it. Send ’er ’ome indeed! I should think I would, and it’s the last kind act I’ll do for Mary Stubbs as long as I live. We was neighbours-like, Sig-nor, this gal’s mother and I, and so when she arsked me to take ’er gal and give ’er a trial, I said ‘Yes’, never thinking, may the Lord forgive ’er, as Mary Stubbs would ’ave put off a daft gal on me as trusted ’er.”

“Is poor Hannah really daft, whatever that may mean?” asked Ricardo.

“And that she is, Sig-nor, and ought to be in the Hidiot Hasylum, if all had their doo. Why! she’s done nothing since she come here, but ’op about after the tables and chairs.”

“Hop about after the tables and chairs?” echoed the Professor, with open eyes.

“It’s God’s truth Sig-nor, and nothing else. I’ve seen the kitchen table, which it must weigh ’alf a ton, waltz after that gal all over the kitchen, and she’ll set the cups and saucers and glasses spinning like tops. And then when I remonstrances with ’er, she’ll cry like a ninny and say she’s not done nothing. The way in which she’s broke china since she’s bin in this ’ouse is wicked. And I won’t stand it no longer--that’s flat, for if she don’t do it, why, the Devil do, and ’ome she must go!”

“But, Mrs. Battleby, one moment! I do not quite understand you. If Hannah does not make the furniture dance, who does?”

“That is what I want to know, Sig-nor! But ’ow the gal moves a heavy table is beyond me. Nor ’ow she makes the glasses spin! But if I remonstrances with ’er, as I said before, she do nothing but cry and say ’tain’t ’er fault, which is all nonsense. And so back she goes to Settlefield, as soon as I’ve got some one to take ’er place!”

“It is very curious,” remarked the Professor, pensively, “and there must be some solution of the problem. Do you think that Hannah would make the table dance for me, Mrs. Battleby?”

“Lor, Sig-nor! don’t you go a tempting of Providence! Let the gal and ’er tricks alone!”

“But I am interested in what you have told me, from a scientific point of view! There may be a reason for it all, and if so, I should like to find it out. Would you have any objection to my seeing Hannah by herself this evening, and questioning her on the subject?”

“Dear me, no, Sig-nor--not if you’ll take the trouble! But you won’t get nothing for your pains. She’s just obstinate, that gal is, and cries if you hold up your little finger at her!”

“Does she suit you in other respects, Mrs. Battleby?”

“O! she ain’t no better nor wuss than others. Them gals are all alike--a set of sloppy, dirty, careless ’ussies, as don’t care if you go to gaol next week all along of their breakages and lies. In course you can interlude Hannah whenever you choose, Sig-nor. I’ll send ’er up to clear as soon as you’ve ’ad your tea, and then you can ’ave a talk with ’er. But you won’t make nothink out of it, them’s my words! But that’s the Doctor’s knock, as sure as sure! Well! he is a good friend to you, Sig-nor, and no mistake!”

“Yes! I am glad he has come! I hardly expected him after last night,” replied the Professor, who was quite excited at his new thoughts regarding Hannah Stubbs.

Karl Steinberg entered the room with an outstretched hand, as the landlady curtsied and disappeared.

“Forgive me, Ricardo!” he exclaimed; “I was a fool last night, and worse than that, too great a coward to confess it! I was horribly nervous and alarmed, but thinking the matter over has made me see the folly of which I was guilty. But I am convinced, that if you were, as you declared yourself to be (and I cannot doubt your word), in the centre of the floor, there was some force ulterior to my own in that little room last night, and I will not rest till I have found out the truth. Will you re-admit me to your séances? Will you forgive my first alarm, and let me pursue the study of the Occult with you?”

“My dear Karl!” exclaimed Ricardo, heartily shaking his proffered hand, “nothing would give me greater pleasure. But if we are to go in for these researches together, and in earnest, we must try and think of some plausible excuse for our spending our nights together, as I find my landlady, Mrs. Battleby, is much opposed to anything that she cannot understand. We have just been holding a conversation respecting her maid-of-all-work, Hannah Stubbs.”

Ricardo then went into the subject of his talk with Mrs. Battleby at some length, and was pleased to see the interest which it excited in Doctor Steinberg.

“Have the girl up by all means,” he said eagerly, “she may be what I have heard you call a physical medium, and we may evolve great things from her. She is countrified and stupid, you say! She probably in that case knows nothing of her own powers, and is frightened at the effects which she produces. I saw her last evening, did I not? She is just an animal, with grand vitality and perhaps magnetism--with any amount of bodily strength, and no brain. Have her up, Ricardo, by all means, and let us see something of these mysterious powers of hers.”

“If she will display them,” replied his friend, as he rang the bell.

Hannah appeared, looking as stolid as before, but with a faint smile for the gentleman who had promised to intercede for her.

“Shut the door, Hannah, and sit down. I want to have a little talk with you,” commenced the Professor, gently, “I have been having a few words with Mrs. Battleby, and she says the only fault she has to find with you is that you can make the chairs and tables dance. Will you try and make them dance now, that my friend and I may see?”

The girl looked startled and edged towards the wall as if she wished to avoid contact with any of the furniture of the room.

“O! no, Sir, please don’t arsk me,” she said in a scared voice, as she glanced timidly in the direction of the tea-table, “’tain’t my fault indeed, I’ve told the missus that over and over again. I don’t know nothink about it, and I wish they wouldn’t come after me--I do indeed!”

All this while, with her skirts gathered up tightly in her hand, Hannah was looking fearfully in the direction of the table, which now commenced slowly, but perceptibly, to move towards her.

“O! it’s a’coming,” she screamed. “O! stop it, Sir, do, for the Lord’s sake! What do it want with me? I ain’t got nothing to say to it! O my! O my!”

Meanwhile the table had advanced to her until its edge was against her body.

“Do you see that, Steinberg?” observed Ricardo, “The furniture has actually moved without contact. This is very marvellous!”

“Go away! go away!” cried Hannah, as she kicked at the legs of the table which was now pressing her against the wall. “O! Sir, please don’t go to tell the missus, for it never was so bad as this before--never!”

“By Jove! look there!” exclaimed the Doctor, as a sound drew their attention in another direction, and they turned to see the Professor’s rocking chair, quietly rocking by itself in the corner of the room.

“I never saw such a thing in my life before,” said Ricardo. “Steinberg, this is a very wonderful girl. We must try to keep her to ourselves, at all events until we have solved the reason of her powers.”

Then he turned to Hannah, who presented a ludicrous spectacle, squeezed up in a corner of the room by the table, and crying loudly without any means of drying her eyes.

“Stop that noise, my dear girl, do!” he said. “Don’t be afraid! No one shall hurt you, and you cannot suppose that a table could! But my friend and I are very much interested in this strange power of yours, and would like to see some more of it. I shall ask Mrs. Battleby to let you come up here in the evenings when she does not require your services, and we will see that you are rewarded for your trouble. You are not afraid of Doctor Steinberg and me, are you?”

“O! no, Sir--only afeared of the tables and things as will foller me about whether I will or no! And it’s not the fust time as the beastly things ’ave got me into trouble, neither!”

“O! it’s not the first time, is it, Hannah?” inquired Steinberg, “and what harm did they do you before, my girl!”

“Harm enough,” replied Hannah, blubbering, “they parted my Joe and me! His family was so nasty about it! They said they wouldn’t ’ave their furniture broken for nothing, else maybe Joe and me could ’ave lived along of ’is mother, and I’d never gone to service at all!”

“Well! never mind, Hannah! If Joe is a wise young man, he will come after you and marry you, whether his tables dance or not. And, meanwhile, my friend and I would like to see all that you can do!”

“I can’t do nothing, Sir!”

“Then who is it that does it?”

“Ah! that I can’t tell you,--only that it’s always been the same with me from a child! I’ve had many a beating for it! I often wish I’d been dead afore they’ve come after me!”

“What! the tables and chairs?”

“Yes, Sir! and other things as well--shadders and the like, as come round me of nights, and woices as talk to me. I ’ates them woices more than anythink, for Mrs. Brushwood (that’s Joe’s mother, please, Sir), it was all along of ’er ’earing one, one day, as made the rumpus between us. And then mother said I must go to service and shake it off. But they’ve been just as bad here as in Settlefield.”

“Well, Hannah, will you take my advice?” said the Professor, “trust yourself to the Doctor and me and we’ll cure you of this nonsense. It’s all due to your health, you know!”

“Thank ye, Sir, but I can’t take no pills, please! Mother, she’s tried ’em with me scores of times but they always sticks in my throat till I retches ’em up again. Nor I can’t swaller jalap. It goes against my stummick. But anything else, gentlemen----”

“Be easy, Hannah, we will not ask you to take either pills, or jalap. All we want is an hour or two of your time now and then! But I will arrange all that with Mrs. Battleby.”