while Gnulemah awaits you?
We may die to-morrow!"

"I have no right to hurry her," said Helwyse in a low voice. "She
knows nothing of the world. I would marry her to-morrow--"

"To-morrow! why not to-day? Why wait? that she may learn the
falsehoods of society,--to flirt, dress, gossip, crave flattery? Why
do you hesitate? Speak out, son of Thor!"

"I have spoken. Do you doubt me? Were it possible, she should be my
wife this hour!"

"Oh!" murmured Manetho, the incisiveness of his manner melting away
as suddenly as it came; "now have you proved your love. You shall be
made one,--one!--to-day. Four-and-twenty years ago this day, I married
your parents on this very spot. The anniversary shall become a double
one!"

The black eye-sockets of the mummy stared Balder in the face. But at a
touch from Manetho, he turned, and saw Gnulemah, bright with beautiful
enchantment, in the doorway.

"Yes, to-day!" he said impetuously.

"You shall wed her with that ring!" whispered the victorious tempter
in his ear. "Go to her; tell her what marriage is! I will call you
soon."

The lover went, and the woman, coming forward, sweetly met him
half-way. But glancing back again before passing out, Balder saw that
the priest had vanished; and the lamp, flickering above the mummy's
dry features, wrought them into a shadowy semblance of emotion.

XXIX.

A CHAMBER OF THE HEART.

Manetho neither sank through the granite floor, nor ascended in the
smoke of the lamp. He unlocked a door (to the panels of which the
clock was affixed, and which it concealed) and let himself into his
private study, a room scarce seven feet wide, though corresponding in
length and height with the dimensions of the outer temple. Books and
papers were kept here, and such other things of a private or valuable
nature as Manetho wished should be inaccessible to outsiders. Against
the wall opposite the door stood a heavy mahogany table; beside it, a
deep-bottomed chair, in which the priest now sat down.

The room was destitute of windows, properly so called. The walls were
full twenty feet high; and at a distance of some sixteen feet from the
floor, a series of low horizontal apertures pierced the masonry,
allowing the light of heaven to penetrate in an embarrassed manner,
and hesitatingly to reveal the interior. Viewed from without, these
narrow slits would be mistaken for mere architectural indentations. To
the inhabitant they were of more importance, c