The Curse of the Mummy, or the Stone of the Seven Stars
It
all
seemed
so
real
that
I
could
hardly
imagine
that
it
had
ever
occurred
before
;
and
yet
each
episode
came
,
not
as
a
fresh
step
in
the
logic
of
things
,
but
as
something
expected
.
It
is
in
such
a
wise
that
memory
plays
its
pranks
for
good
or
ill
;
for
pleasure
or
pain
;
for
weal
or
woe
.
It
is
thus
that
life
is
bittersweet
,
and
that
which
has
been
done
becomes
eternal
.
Again
,
the
light
skiff
,
ceasing
to
shoot
through
the
lazy
water
as
when
the
oars
flashed
and
dripped
,
glided
out
of
the
fierce
July
sunlight
into
the
cool
shade
of
the
great
drooping
willow
branches
I
standing
up
in
the
swaying
boat
,
she
sitting
still
and
with
deft
fingers
guarding
herself
from
stray
twigs
or
the
freedom
of
the
resilience
of
moving
boughs
.
Again
,
the
water
looked
Again
,
we
sat
in
the
cool
shade
,
with
the
myriad
noises
of
nature
both
without
and
within
our
bower
merging
into
that
drowsy
hum
in
whose
sufficing
environment
the
great
world
with
its
disturbing
trouble
,
and
its
more
disturbing
joys
,
can
be
effectually
forgotten
.
Again
,
in
that
blissful
solitude
the
young
girl
lost
the
convention
of
her
prim
,
narrow
upbringing
,
and
told
me
in
a
natural
,
dreamy
way
of
the
loneliness
of
her
new
life
.
With
an
undertone
of
sadness
she
made
me
feel
how
in
that
spacious
home
each
one
of
the
household
was
isolated
by
the
personal
magnificence
of
her
father
and
herself
;
that
there
confidence
had
no
altar
,
and
sympathy
no
shrine
;
and
that
there
even
her
father
's
face
was
as
distant
as
the
old
country
life
seemed
now
.
Once
more
,
the
wisdom
of
my
manhood
and
the
experience
of
my
years
laid
themselves
at
the
girl
's
feet
.
It
was
seemingly
their
own
doing
;
for
the
individual
"
I
"
had
no
say
in
the
matter
,
but
only
just
obeyed
imperative
orders
.
And
once
again
the
flying
seconds
multiplied
themselves
endlessly
.
For
it
is
in
the
arcana
of
dreams
that
existences
merge
and
renew
themselves
,
change
and
yet
keep
the
same
like
the
soul
of
a
musician
in
a
fugue
.
And
so
memory
swooned
,
again
and
again
,
in
sleep
.
It
seems
that
there
is
never
to
be
any
perfect
rest
.
Even
in
Eden
the
snake
rears
its
head
among
the
laden
boughs
of
the
Tree
of
Knowledge
.
The
silence
of
the
dreamless
night
is
broken
by
the
roar
of
the
avalanche
;
the
hissing
of
sudden
floods
;
the
clanging
of
the
engine
bell
marking
its
sweep
through
a
sleeping
American
town
;
the
clanking
of
distant
paddles
over
the
sea
...
.
Whatever
it
is
,
it
is
breaking
the
charm
of
my
Eden
.
The
canopy
of
greenery
above
us
,
starred
with
All
at
once
the
gates
of
Sleep
were
thrown
wide
open
,
and
my
waking
ears
took
in
the
cause
of
the
disturbing
sounds
.
Waking
existence
is
prosaic
enough
there
was
somebody
knocking
and
ringing
at
someone
's
street
door
.
I
was
pretty
well
accustomed
in
my
Jermyn
Street
chambers
to
passing
sounds
;
usually
I
did
not
concern
myself
,
sleeping
or
waking
,
with
the
doings
,
however
noisy
,
of
my
neighbours
.
But
this
noise
was
too
continuous
,
too
insistent
,
too
imperative
to
be
ignored
.
There
was
some
active
intelligence
behind
that
ceaseless
sound
;
and
some
stress
or
need
behind
the
intelligence
.
I
was
not
altogether
selfish
,
and
at
the
thought
of
someone
's
need
I
was
,
without
premeditation
,
out
of
bed
.
Instinctively
I
looked
at
my
watch
.
It
was
just
three
o'clock
;
there
was
a
faint
edging
of
grey
round
the
green
blind
which
darkened
my
room
.
It
was
evident
that
the
knocking
and
ringing
were
at
the
door
of
our
own
house
;
and
it
was
evident
,
too
,
that
there
was
no
one
awake
to
answer
the
call
.
I
slipped
on
my
When
I
opened
it
there
stood
a
dapper
groom
,
with
one
hand
pressed
unflinchingly
on
the
electric
bell
whilst
with
the
other
he
raised
a
ceaseless
clangour
with
the
knocker
.
The
instant
he
saw
me
the
noise
ceased
;
one
hand
went
up
instinctively
to
the
brim
of
his
hat
,
and
the
other
produced
a
letter
from
his
pocket
.
A
neat
brougham
was
opposite
the
door
,
the
horses
were
breathing
heavily
as
though
they
had
come
fast
.
A
policeman
,
with
his
night
lantern
still
alight
at
his
belt
,
stood
by
,
attracted
to
the
spot
by
the
noise
.
"
Beg
pardon
,
sir
,
I
'm
sorry
for
disturbing
you
,
but
my
orders
was
imperative
;
I
was
not
to
lose
a
moment
,
but
to
knock
and
ring
till
someone
came
.
May
I
ask
you
,
sir
,
if
Mr.
Malcolm
Ross
lives
here
?
"
"
I
am
Mr.
Malcolm
Ross
.
"
"
Then
this
letter
is
for
you
,
sir
,
and
the
bro'am
is
for
you
too
,
sir
!
"
