Then springing from the couch, his eyes glared with yet fiercer brilliancy as he flashed them round, whilst Abelard and Mrs. Russel, terrified beyond the power of expression, flew towards the door, eyeing the motions of their dangerous guest with feelings of unspeakable horror. Their terror was needless, for the storm of passions in the breast of Cheops, though tremendous, was soon allayed; and ere many moments had elapsed, he sank again upon the couch in a kind of lethargy, which, if it were not slumber, seemed at least to imply a temporary cessation from pain.
“Thank God!” whispered Abelard, as he motioned to Mrs. Russel to creep out of the apartment. She tremblingly obeyed; and the moment she thought herself in safety, she threw herself upon her knees, and thanked God with more fervour than she had ever done before in her whole life; whilst the servants, who were all assembled in the anteroom, crowded round her, trembling, with pallid cheeks, and white lips, and clustering together like bees swarming round their queen.
“Oh, madam! madam!” exclaimed Angelina, in a whisper, “what will become of us? A serous moisture transudes from every pore in my body with the chilliness of death, and my very hair erects itself with horror upon my head.”
“And my heart throbs with such violence,” said Cecilia, “that the whole arterial system seems deranged.”
“It is evidently an Egyptian Mummy,” observed Abelard, and, as he spoke, every word he uttered was listened to as an oracle. “Its language and its dress bespeak its origin, but by what strange event it has been resuscitated—”
At this moment a sharp knock at the door made the terrified servants all spring closer together, clinging to each other in an agony of nervous horror, and not one daring to approach the door. The knocking and ringing, however, at length became so violent, as to rouse Abelard to give the clamorous intruders entrance. It was Father Morris and Sir Ambrose.
“Oh, Abelard!” cried the latter, panting for breath; “have you heard the news? The Queen is certainly dying, and everyone says the demon that appeared this morning has killed her.”
“What, the Mummy?” asked Abelard.
“Have you heard of it then?” cried Sir Ambrose eagerly.
“It is now in this house,” said Mrs. Russel.
“In this house!” repeated Sir Ambrose with a faint scream; whilst Father Morris, who had looked pale and exhausted when he entered the hall, became still paler, and seemed scarcely able to support himself.
“To arms!” cried Cheops from the inner room; “the Palli are upon us! Cowards that we are, the enemy are at our gates!”
Screaming, and scarcely knowing where they went, the terrified servants tumbled over each other in the hastiness of their retreat, huddling themselves together in a heap, yet keeping their eyes fixed upon the door from which they expected the spectre to appear, as though charmed by the fascination of a rattlesnake.
A loud crash now produced a fresh scream; then all was still. After a long pause, which seemed of endless duration, Father Morris, evidently with a dreadful effort, roused himself and advanced—
“Death itself is not so horrid as this suspense,” said he, as he resolutely threw open the door of the room, which had contained the Mummy, and entered it. It was empty—but the broken framework of the window seemed to point out in what manner the awful visitor had made his exit.
It was with infinite difficulty that Mrs. Russel could be persuaded to return to this room; and when she did, the remainder of the day was passed by her, and every domestic of the mansion, in fear and trembling. When they spoke, it was in whispers, and when they moved, they crept along with stealthy noiseless steps, as though they feared the echo of their own footsteps; the eyes of all fixed timidly upon the broken window, through which the fearful stranger had disappeared.
Slowly and heavily the hours rolled on with Mrs. Russel and her constant Abelard, till the time appointed for dinner arrived, when the inferior servants, as they served the meal, looked timidly around, instead of regarding the dishes they carried in their hands, and the higher ones at first scarcely dared to eat, and only spoke in whispers, fancying every moment the wild eyes of Cheops again glaring upon them, and his deep hollow voice ringing in their ears, whilst their own tones sounded strangely hoarse and unnatural. Yet as the bottle circulated their terrors dissipated, and Abelard had just begun again to breathe some of his tenderest effusions, when the crashing of branches in the garden announced the return of the spectre, and the laugh of Cheops, strange, wild, and unearthly, again rang in their ears, like the yell of a demon; the servants, terrified at the appalling sound, listened for a moment, their limbs shaking in every joint; their teeth chattering in their heads; and terror blanching their lips and cheeks to a ghastly paleness, till, as the hideous noise increased, they could bear no more, and springing from their seats they fled shrieking from the room.
In the meantime, the sensations these extraordinary events had created amongst the people were indescribable. Strange rumours and contradictory reports were circulated, and the most incredible stories invented of all that had passed. The minds of men became bewildered; they knew not what to credit nor what to think; a gloomy presentiment hung over them; they seemed to feel some fearful change was at hand, but scarcely knew what to hope or what to fear. Business was at a stand: people indeed gathered together in the shops, but it was only to whisper secretly to each other, strange mysterious stories of the late marvellous events, which they dared not
