tened on to the spot where stood the marble urn; but as she approached it, she started back, for close beside it stood the hideous figure of Cheops, dimly seen through the gathering gloom.
"Fear not!" said he in a softened, though still hollow voice; "tell me your woes, and, if I can, I will assist you."
"Alas! it is in vain," cried Clara in an agony of despair too profound even to admit of her feeling the fear generally experienced by all who saw the Mummy; "no one can relieve me,—I have no hope!"
Cheops smiled. "Poor child!" said he, "it is always thus when Eros first creeps into the soul, covering his arrows with roses, so that they are not seen till their barbed points rankle in the heart! I cannot tell how much I pity thee! So young and lovely too, it is hard that even thou shouldst not be exempt from the common lot of mortals! Yet do not despair."
"I do despair!" cried Clara, darting away from him; "I am truly wretched!"
From this moment Clara saw the Mummy
