Doctor Steinberg was only at home three evenings in the week, but the Professor sat with his wife, whether his friend joined them or not, and frequently in the daytime he would take Hannah up into the séance chamber, and hold converse with Leonora all by himself. She did not always come to him. These things are not ordered by our earthly wishes, and we have no control over them. Often, when Steinberg was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Mrs. Carlile--sometimes, when she had even promised to come to him--a figure would emerge from the cabinet, and on inspection prove to be that of an old man, utterly unknown to either of them--or a child would run across the room, as if in play, and, startled by their addressing it, run behind the curtain again and be seen no more. To the doctor, who looked upon these manifestations as fresh proofs of Immortality, one spirit was as good as another, but to the Professor, whose whole thoughts were fixed upon Leonora, such disappointments fell keenly, and he would not be satisfied until he had sat again to give Leonora an opportunity of manifesting her presence to him. Accordingly, he took to having séances by himself, and Hannah, who had never objected to doing as he asked since that first day, became his willing victim. Indeed, the girl even seemed to grow to like being a medium--her low spirits disappeared--she often went singing about the house--and no more was heard of her false young man, nor of her mother. One afternoon as the Professor sat alone in the séance chamber, with Hannah entranced behind the curtain, the now familiar form of Leonora stepped out of the cabinet. She was clothed in some soft, clinging white material which showed plainly the lissom figure beneath it--her dark hair was unbound and fell below her waist--her small white hand beckoned him to approach her. Ricardo crept on tiptoe to the dark curtain that divided them. He was quite alone--Steinberg was miles away and Hannah lay unconscious in her chair--there was none but Heaven to listen to what he might say to his lost wife.