“O! no! no! ’tain’t that,” cried the girl, “but you’ve been that good to me, Sig-nor, and I can see as you’re not ’appy, and I’m afeared you’re sorry now that you was so foolish as to marry a pore, ignorant creetur like me. I’d been fitter for Joe, Sir, but even ’_e_ didn’t think me good enough, and I’m so feared you’ve repented of your goodness to me.” And Hannah wept unaffectedly. The Professor drew her towards him and kissed her wet cheek. “You are quite mistaken, my dear. I do not regret, nor repent, anything. But if you really think that I have been kind to you, wouldn’t you like to do something for me in return?” “I’d cut off my right ’and for you this moment,” replied Hannah, with fervour. “Well, sit down by my side, and let me tell you a little story. When I was a young man, Hannah, five-and-twenty years ago, I married a young lady, whom I loved very much indeed!” “Lor!” cried the girl, “you was married to a real lady, and yet you can bear with me!” “Well! she died! I need not tell you how she died, but her death made me a very miserable man, because we had had a little misunderstanding beforehand, and it happened so suddenly, that there was no time for a reconciliation. The wish to see her, or hear from her again, haunted me for years, but I thought there was no hope of it, until I fell upon some old scientific books and learned that it is possible for those whom we call dead, to re-visit this earth!” “Lor!” exclaimed Hannah, with wide open eyes, “but that’s all rubbidge, sure-ly!” “Why! how can you ask me such a question? What do you suppose the apparitions--the ladies and gentlemen--whom you see sometimes, are?” “I dunno, I’m sure! Shadders, I s’pose, but they gives me the creeps! O! Sig-nor I can’t abear ’em! I’d rayther run a hundred miles the other way.” “But why do you fear them, Hannah? They cannot harm you!” “I dunno that! They looks very queer sometimes, and the woices as I ’ears--gruff ’uns and squeaky ’uns!--they makes me trimble all over, as if I’d got cold!” “But they cannot hurt you, Hannah,” persisted the Professor, “and when I met you at Mrs. Battleby’s, and heard that you possessed that wonderful capacity for seeing spirits, I was delighted. I felt that my dead wife would come back to me through you, and she has! On three occasions I have communicated with her, but not long enough to hear her say that she has forgiven me, and loves me still--and now, just when I hoped I should see her as often as I chose, you tell me you will not sit with me any more! That is what has made me sad, Hannah.” Notwithstanding her rough training and ignorance, Hannah had much natural intelligence, and she realised the situation at once. “That’s what you married me for, then,” she remarked. The Professor felt ashamed. He did not know what to say. He began by answering, “No! no!” but broke off short.