“I did not mean to wound your feelings,” returned Elvira, “believe me, Edmund. Tell me, what is there I can do for you?”
“Nothing!” cried he wildly; “the world is nothing for me now. Pity that unhappy woman who was my wife; and as for me, forget me!”
“Never!” said Elvira; “for never can I forget your disinterested love and your devoted affection. The heart, however, is capricious; and mine, though sensible to your merits, was destined for another.”
“And well does that other deserve your love;—for even jealousy itself must own that Roderick is worthy to be your husband. Yes, to him I can resign you. Farewell, Elvira! you shall never see me more! Let my brother take my inheritance! May you be happy! God bless you! God bless you!”
And starting from his knees, he disappeared, before she could reply.
The spirits of Elvira were agitated by this event, which threw a damp over the remaining festivities of the day; and, trembling and unnerved, she proceeded to the magnificent hall, where a sumptuous banquet was prepared for her reception. For some days after this event, the attention of Roderick and Elvira was occupied in arranging the different affairs of the kingdom; whilst Edric and Pauline, with the old Duke of Cornwall, M. de Mallet, and Father Murphy retired to the house of the former in the country, where Dr. Entwerfen was already comfortably established.
A thousand emotions swelled in the heart of Edric as he approached this venerable mansion, and saw again its well-known turrets peeping through the trees. Strange, indeed, are the feelings that oppress the mind, when the wanderer returns, after a long absence, to the habitation of his forefathers. A mingled crowd of contradictory sensations, of disappointed hopes, of undefined fears, float through his fancy; and, as well-remembered objects recall the visions which formerly delighted him, he starts at the difference the experience of their fallacy has made in himself, and he sighs in vain for a return of the blissful ignorance he formerly despised. All too appears changed! As the human mind judges only by comparison, the eyes become dazzled by distant splendours, and that which to the eyes of youth had appeared superb, seems to the maturer judgment of manhood, tame, vapid, and insipid—whilst the imagination which had fondly cherished the favourite dreams of childhood, and decked them in all the vivid colours of fancy, feels disappointed and disgusted, though it scarce knows why, to find the reality so different from the image it had pictured to itself.
Such were the feelings of Edric as he entered the grand hall of this residence of his ancestors, and gazed upon the well-remembered faces of the crowd of servants assembled to meet him. At the head of these was Davis; his tall thin figure waving to and fro, and his long white hair floating upon his shoulders; and the more spruce and gallant aspects of Abelard and his devoted Eloisa, the late Mrs. Russel, who had blessed him with the possession of her fair hand a few days before, and now stood blushing and simpering, with all the affected modesty of a bride of sixty, to receive the congratulations of those around her.
“Welcome! welcome, my dear Edric!” cried Dr. Entwerfen, rushing downstairs to meet them, his sleeves tucked up, and his wig thrown back, in a very experimental-philosophic manner; “rejoice with me too, for I have recovered my balloon! My darling caoutchouc bottle of inflammability! My immortalizing snuff, and more than all, my adored galvanic battery! Yes, my compendium of science, my epitome of talent, and my most inestimable treasure, is safe! Not, indeed, that which was employed in galvanizing the Mummy, but its counterpart, its duplicate, its prototype. The Mummy came to England, and the balloon being recognized to be mine, it was placed in my apartment, where it has remained ever since, stowed up in safe, but inglorious obscurity, till my return.”
“Och! and that’s a clear case!” said Father Murphy; “and there’s no doubt of it.”
Leaving the delighted doctor to show the treasures of his laboratory to M. de Mallet, Edric retired to his chamber, and after surveying again and again the well-known objects it contained, he hurried to his favourite grove.
It is singular how inanimate objects, which have been long unseen, recall the thoughts and train of feelings indulged in when one last beheld them: thus, the house, the groves, the walks, the gardens, and the river, recalled all its former longings to Edric’s mind; and he again burnt to converse with a disembodied spirit, as he entered the grove where he had formerly so often ruminated, and indulged dreams wild and improbable as the delusions of delirium. The day was beautiful; it was one of those bright glowing mornings in April, when dew drops hang upon every thorn, when the sun shines brightly through the clear pure air, and all nature seems awaking to new life and vigour from repose.
Edric entered the grove, and threw himself upon that very bank where he had reclined only a few months before, under such different feelings. The river, the grove, the bank, were all the same; he only was changed. “And yet,” said he, “is not my mind still as unsettled as before? Am I not still wandering in a labyrinth of doubts, unknowing where to turn; and yet tormented with a restless desire to discover my way? What can have become of the Mummy I so strangely resuscitated? It is strange, that since the restoration of Elvira it seems to have vanished, and yet all here speak of it as of a living animated being. Would that I could see it. O Cheops! Cheops—”
Suddenly a strange unearthly voice seemed to murmur harshly in his ear—“Go to the Pyramid! There and there only can thy hopes be gratified.” Edric started upon
