“But surely you could judge by her build, that her feet would not be as small as those!” argued Von Steinberg, who began to wish, as so many have done before him, that he had never invited his friends to a séance. “My dear! you are making a fool of yourself!” whispered Mr. Atkinson to his wife, “and if you can’t say anything more sensible, I’ll be obliged by your holding your tongue altogether!” After this, the lady’s remarks were made in the strictest confidence in her neighbour’s ear, and Leonora showed her feet and her hands, and smiled her saucy smiles for the edification of the male portion of the assembly, who were all ready to swear to her beauty and distinct personality from that of the medium. Several other forms made their appearance--one being that of an old man, between whom and the Marchesa, even Mrs. Atkinson could not trace any resemblance, and the séance closed with the apparition of a little child--a boy of four years old, who ran across the room towards Dr. Derrick, and was fully recognised by his wife and himself, as their little Lawrence, a child whom they had lost some twenty years before. After this apparition, which fully proved the claims of the Marchesa di Sorrento to be one of the most marvellous mediums in the world, the meeting broke up and the sitters dispersed into the adjoining room, Karl von Steinberg alone remaining behind for a few minutes, to see the medium recover from her trance. As soon as he found himself alone with her, he gently raised one end of the curtain. There lay Hannah in her easy chair--one pinky arm thrown across the velvet elbow, the other beneath her head. She was breathing heavily still and her mouth was slightly open, showing the large, firm, white teeth within. It had never struck Von Steinberg that she was even good-looking before, but now she looked positively handsome--an embodiment of youth, health, and vigour--more admirable in a doctor’s eyes, than all the anæmic, bloodless, white flesh in the world. He regarded her quietly for a moment--then yielding to an unaccountable impulse, he stooped and kissed her rounded arm. Hannah woke and caught him--she did not speak, but lay there, with her eyes open, gazing at him--with a languid smile upon her lips. “Come! come! you are yourself again now!” cried Von Steinberg, quickly, “let us go into the next room! We have had a wonderful séance, and my friends are waiting to congratulate and thank you!” He dragged her to her feet as he spoke, and led her into the drawing-room. Here, the scientific men present crowded round her, eager to ascertain if her condition were normal, or if they could trace any lingering remains of the super-human faculty she possessed. The women looked at her furtively and from a little distance. They could not understand what they had seen--they could not believe it possible, and were more ready to ascribe uncommon cleverness and cunning to the Marchesa, than uncommon powers.