A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder James De Mille

99
fate."
"Fate!" I repeated, looking at her in wonder and in deep concern.
"What do you mean by our fate? Is there anything more which you know
and which I have not heard?"
"You have heard nothing," said she, slowly; "and all that you have
seen and heard is as nothing compared with what lies before us. For
you and for me there is a fate--inconceivable, abhorrent,
tremendous!--a fate of which I dare not speak or even think, and from
which there is no escape whatever."
As Almah said this she looked at me with an expression in which terror
and anguish were striving with love. Her cheeks, which shortly before
had flushed rosy red in sweet confusion, were now pallid, her lips
ashen; her eyes were full of a wild despair. I looked at her in
wonder, and could not say a word.
"Oh, Atam-or," said she, "I am afraid of death!"
"Almah," said I, "why will you speak of death? What is this fate which
you fear so much?"
"It is this," said she hurriedly and with a shudder, "you and I are
singled out. I have been reserved for years until one should be found
who might be joined with me. You came. I saw it all at once. I have
known it--dreaded it--tried to fight against it. But it was of no use.
Oh, Atam-or, our love means death; for the very fact that you love me
and I love you seals our doom!"
"Our doom? What doom?"
"The sacrifice!" exclaimed Almah, with another shudder. In her voice
and look there was a terrible meaning, which I could not fail to take.
I understood it now, and my blood curdled in my veins. Almah clung to
me despairingly.
"Do not leave me!" she cried--"do not leave me! I have no one but you.
The sacrifice, the sacrifice! It is our doom the great sacrifice--at
the end of the dark season. It is at the amir. We must go there to
meet our doom."