ng such questions,--but has not her temperate affection been
your most precious possession? have you not yearned and labored for
it? have you not loved her with more than a father's tenderness? Under
mask of planning her ruin, have not all the softer and better impulses
of your nature found exercise and sustenance? Conceiving a devil, have
you brought forth an angel, and unawares tasted angelic joy?--If this
be true, Manetho, your guilty purpose towards her is not excused, but
how much more awful becomes the contemplation of her fate! Rouse up!
sluggard, rush forth! you may save her yet. Up! would you risk the
salvation of three souls to glut a meaningless spite? You have been
fighting shadows with a shadow. Up!--it is the last appeal.--

You stir,--get stiffly to your feet,--put hand to forehead,--stare
around. The twilight has deepened apace; only by glancing upwards can
you distinguish a definite light. You are uncertain and lethargic in
your movements, as though the dawning in you of a worthy resolution
had impaired the evil principle of your vitality. You are as a man
nourished on poison, who suddenly tastes an antidote,--and finds it
fatal!

You halt towards the door and put forth a hand to open it. You will
save Gnulemah; her innocence will save her from the knowledge of her
loss. As for Balder,--his suffering will satisfy a reasonable enemy.
No wife, no fortune, the cup dashed from his lips just as the aroma
was ravishing his nostrils!--O, enough! Open the door, therefore, and
go forth.

In your magnanimity you feel for the key, but it is not in its
accustomed place. Try your pockets; still in vain! Startled, you turn
to the table, and feel carefully over it from end to end. You raise
the heavy chair like a feather, and shake it bottom downwards. Nothing
falls. You are down on your knees groping affrighted amongst the dust
and rubbish of the floor. The key is lost! You spring up,--briskly
enough now,--and stand with your long fingers working against one
another, trying to think. That key,--where had you it last?--

A blank whirl is your memory,--nothing stands clearly out. How came
you here? With whom did you speak just now? What was said?--Two
persons there seemed to be, oddly combined in one,--most unfamiliar in
their familiarity. Or was it your evil genius, Manetho? who by
devilish artifice has at this last hour shut the door against your
first good impulse; locked the door against soul and body; shut you