Atma - A Romance

"Go back, I entreat you; no one will harm me, but your life is marked--"

He had better not have spoken. There was a cry of fiendish glee and then

the report of a gun, and Bertram fell back with a groan. A shriek of

triumph rose at a distance. "The traitor Atma is dead!" A noise of the

flying feet of Lal's minions and then silence. Atma stood alone. With

anguished heart he raised the unconscious head which his own love had

lured to destruction. To his unspeakable joy the eyes opened, and the

loved voice faintly strove to bid him fly. The effort made him swoon

again, and when he next revived it was to ask for water. Atma ran to a

rill which he had noted before, and speedily returned with a draught.

After drinking, Bertram raised himself slightly, and directing his

friend's attention to the body of the servant-maid he whispered: "With her last breath she bade me search the tomb." Until now Atma had

not observed that they were in the shadow of Sangita's tomb. The vines

were torn from its ancient portal, which hung open on broken hinge.

"Go," said Bertram, but Atma would first staunch and bind his wound.

At length he might leave him, and then lifting the door and the trailing

vines aside to allow the moonlight to penetrate he looked in. A moment

later he had entered. He remained long, so long that Bertram, uneasy and

suffering, called him again and again, but without response. Half an

hour--an hour passed, and then he feebly and painfully crept to the

doorway of the tomb. He saw Atma prostrate on the damp sepulchral mould,

his face buried in his hands, and beside him lay still, and cold, and

lifeless, a girl attired in bridal finery, with jewels gleaming on her

dark hair and on her stiffening arms. It was Moti.

Ah, the worms were gloating,

This is by-and-bye.