“Of whom I am disposing?” stammered he, unconsciously repeating her words, “Of whom I am disposing? Why, of my niece, to be sure,” he continued, arranging with difficulty his scattered ideas. “You are my niece, are you not?”
“Yes,” returned Rosabella, “unfortunately I am your niece; and I blush for an uncle who does not scruple to abuse so barbarously the last legacy bequeathed to him by an unfortunate brother. Yes, my lord Duke, I am your niece—your protégée—your dependant. I am not ashamed to own that I owe my daily bread to your bounty; but notwithstanding all this, I am not aware that I am your slave, nor do I think the pecuniary obligations I am under to you sufficient to give you the right of disposing of me as an article of furniture, or a beast of burden.”
“You mistake the matter entirely, Rosabella,” said the Duke; “I do not wish to hurt your feelings.”
“Do you think, then, that I am formed of stone or iron, that I am to be told to marry when and where you list, without having my inclinations consulted or my affections gained? I am not so quiescent. Were my poor father alive you would not treat me thus.”
“Beware, Rosabella, you tread on dangerous ground!” said the Duke, violently agitated.
“Alas! alas!” cried Rosabella, wringing her hands, “why am I treated thus? Have I no friend to take my part? Will no one interpose to save me from destruction? Oh that my poor father were alive!—he, at least, would pity his unhappy daughter. Father Morris, you have always professed to love me. I have been told you were my father’s friend. Can you stand and see me thus cruelly oppressed, and not proffer one single word in my behalf? I appeal to you as a friend, as a Christian, as a man.”
Father Morris made no answer to this appeal, but his lips turned of a livid paleness, and uttering a low groan, he sank into a chair, hiding his face in his hands, whilst every nerve quivering with agitation.
“Go to your chamber, Rosabella,” said the Duke, in a trembling voice, “and when you have learnt to express yourself more temperately towards one who has been your only friend and benefactor, perhaps I may send for you again.”
Rosabella attempted to speak, but the Duke sternly forbade her. “Go,” said he, “your ignorance of your real situation may now plead in excuse for your conduct. But the time will shortly come when you will shudder at your folly, and wonder at my present forbearance.”
Awed by his manner, and the mysterious emotion of Father Morris, Rosabella withdrew in silence, followed by Elvira, and each retired to her separate chamber, to muse in solitude upon the strange events which had occurred during the day.
VI
When Edric left his father to seek Dr. Entwerfen, he encountered Father Morris in the way; and so absorbed was he in his own meditations that he had almost passed the reverend father without seeing him.
“This is quite en philosophe,” said the priest with a smile, as he intercepted his pupil’s path. “What is the matter, Edric? I did not think King Cheops himself could have made you so soon forget your old friends.”
“Indeed I had not forgotten you, for I was thinking of you that very moment. Do you really think it possible, that if I went to Egypt, I might succeed in resuscitating a mummy?”
“I do not doubt it. The ancient Egyptians you know, believed that the souls of their mummies were chained to them in a torpid state till the final day of judgment, and supposing this hypothesis to be correct, there is every reason to imagine that by employing so powerful an agent as galvanism, reanimation may be produced.”
“If I recollect rightly, the ancient Egyptians did not imagine the souls of their dead remained in their bodies, but that they would return to them at the expiration of three thousand years.”
“And it is now about three thousand years since Cheops was entombed.”
“It is strange,” continued Edric, musing, “what influence your words have upon my mind: whilst I listen to you, the racking desire I feel to explore these mysteries becomes almost torture; and I muse upon it till I fancy it an impulse from a superior power, and that I am really selected to be the mortal agent of their revelation to man.”
“And why may not this impulse, which seems to operate with such irresistible force upon your mind, and which you say you fancy, be a real feeling implanted in you by the Divine Author of your being, to guide you to a country where you are destined to attain immortality? Egypt is rich in monuments of antiquity; and all historians unite in declaring her ancient inhabitants to have possessed knowledge and science far beyond even the boasted improvements of modern times. For instance, could we attempt to erect stupendous buildings like the pyramids, where enormous masses are arranged with geometrical accuracy, and the labours of man have emulated the everlasting durability of nature? Are we even capable of conceiving works so majestic as those they put in execution? We assuredly are not; and in every point, excepting in their religion, they surpassed us.”
“And though,” returned Edric, “every scheme of religion falls infinitely below the divine perfection of Christianity; yet as Christianity was not revealed in the times we are speaking of, it cannot be denied that the Egyptians made some approach to wisdom even in their devotions. They worshipped Nature, though they disguised her under the symbols of her attributes, and gratified the vulgar taste by giving them tangible objects to represent ideas too sublime for their unenlightened comprehension. That they
