“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. CHAPTER XII. A few weeks after the events related in the last chapter, as Mrs. Battleby was helping her wretched drudge to wash up the miscellaneous assortment of plates, dishes, cups, saucers and tumblers, sent down by her various lodgers, and harrying the girl’s soul out, by constant adjurations to make more haste, she was startled by the sound of a loud double knock on the front door. “Now! ’oo on hearth can that be calling at this time o’ night?” she exclaimed testily, as she wiped her hands on her canvas apron. “’Ere, ’Liza, ’and me over that clean apron _do_, and don’t stand gaping at me there! I declare, you put me ever so much in mind of that great, hulking fool, Hannah Stubbs, which I’ve never forgiven ’er mother to this day for putting her upon me! It might be some one arter the hattics, for I’ve known ’em to come, when pressed, as late as ten o’clock at night. Now! go on with your washing-up, and don’t be a’follerin’ me to hear what they may say, for it’s no concern of yourn any way.” Saying which, Mrs. Battleby left the lower regions and ascended to answer the hall door. It was a dark night, and all she could distinguish at first was, that a female figure stood on the door steps. “Who do you please to want, Ma’am?” she inquired. “Is Mrs. Battleby at home?” asked the stranger, in her turn. “Yes! Ma’am, I be Mrs. Battleby, but if it’s rooms as you want, I’ve none to let but the hattics, which was occupied last by a gentleman of very high degree!” “Lor! Mrs. Battleby! I don’t believe you know me!” exclaimed the visitor, as she pushed her way into the passage, and leant up against the wall, laughing. “Why, it’s never!--No! it can’t never be--_Hannah Stubbs!_” cried Mrs. Battleby, too much astounded to be angry at being taken in. “Yes! it is,” replied Hannah, still laughing, “but I ain’t Hannah Stubbs no longer, Mrs. Battleby! I’m a married lady now, and able to hold my own with anybody. But ain’t you a’going to arsk me to take a chair? Ain’t the parlours vacant? Can’t we go in there?” “The parlours!” repeated the landlady, with a sneer. “Well! I wonder what we’re coming to, next! I should ’ave thought as the kitchen was good enough for you, Hannah Stubbs, though you _be_ married!”