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.