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My right hand, gra&longs;ping the un&longs;een knife, was
&longs;till di&longs;engaged. It was lifted to &longs;trike. All my
&longs;trength was exhau&longs;ted, but what was &longs;ufficient to
the performance of this deed. Already was the
energy awakened, and the impul&longs;e given, that
&longs;hould bear the fatal &longs;teel to his heart, when—
Wieland &longs;hrunk back: his hand was withdrawn.
Breathle&longs;s with affright and de&longs;peration, I &longs;tood,
freed from his gra&longs;p; una&longs;&longs;ailed; untouched.

Thus long had the power which controuled the
&longs;cene forborne to interfere; but now his might was
irre&longs;i&longs;tible, and Wieland in a moment was disarmed
of all his purpo&longs;es. A voice, louder than human
organs could produce, &longs;hriller than language
can depict, bur&longs;t from the ceilling, and commanded
him—to hold!

Trouble and di&longs;may &longs;ucceeded to the &longs;tedfa&longs;tne&longs;s
that had lately been di&longs;played in the looks of Wieland.
His eyes roved from one quarter to another,
with an expre&longs;&longs;ion of doubt. He &longs;eemed to wait
for a further intimation.

Carwin's agency was here ea&longs;ily recognized. I
had be&longs;ought him to interpo&longs;e in my defence. He
had flown. I had imagined him deaf to my prayer,
and re&longs;olute to &longs;ee me peri&longs;h: yet he di&longs;appeared
merely to devi&longs;e and execute the means of my relief.

Why did he not forbear when this end was accomplished?
Why did his misjudging zeal and

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accursed precipitation overpa&longs;s that limit? Or meant
he thus to crown the &longs;cene, and conduct his inscrutable
plots to this con&longs;ummation?

Such ideas were the fruit of &longs;ub&longs;equent contemplation.
This moment was pregnant with fate. I
had no power to rea&longs;on. In the career of my tempestuous
thoughts, rent into pieces, as my mind
was, by accumulating horrors, Carwin was un&longs;een
and un&longs;u&longs;pected. I partook of Wieland's credulity,
&longs;hook with his amazement, and panted with
his awe.

Silence took place for a moment; &longs;o much as
allowed the attention to recover its po&longs;t. Then
new &longs;ounds were uttered from above.

“Man of errors! cea&longs;e to cheri&longs;h thy delu&longs;ion:
not heaven or hell, but thy &longs;en&longs;es have mi&longs;led thee
to commit the&longs;e acts. Shake off thy phrenzy, and
a&longs;cend into rational and human. Be lunatic no
longer.”

My brother opened his lips to &longs;peak. His tone
was terrific and faint. He muttered an appeal to
heaven. It was difficult to comprehend the theme
of his inquiries. They implied doubt as to the nature
of the impul&longs;e that hitherto had guided him,
and que&longs;tioned whether he had acted in con&longs;equence
of in&longs;ane perceptions.

To the&longs;e interrogatories the voice, which now
&longs;eemed to hover at his &longs;houlder, loudly an&longs;wered in
the affirmative. Then uninterrupted &longs;ilence ensued.

Fallen from his lofty and heroic &longs;tation; now
finally re&longs;tored to the perception of truth; weighed
to earth by the recollection of his own deeds; consoled
no longer by a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of rectitude, for
the le&longs;s of offspring and wife—a lo&longs;s for which he
was indebted to his own mi&longs;guided hand;

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Wieland was transformed at once into the man of sorrows!

He reflected not that credit &longs;hould be as reasonably
denied to the la&longs;t, as to any former intimation;
that one might as ju&longs;tly be a&longs;cribed to erring or
di&longs;ea&longs;ed &longs;en&longs;es as the other. He &longs;aw not that this
di&longs;covery in no degree affected the integrity of his
conduct; that his motives had lo&longs;t none of their
claims to the homage of mankind; that the preference
of &longs;upreme good, and the boundle&longs;s energy
of duty, were undimini&longs;hed in his bo&longs;om.

It is not for me to pur&longs;ue him through the
gha&longs;tly changes of his countenance. Words he
had none. Now he &longs;at upon the floor, motionle&longs;s
in all his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed; a
monument of woe.

Anon a &longs;pirit of tempe&longs;tuous but unde&longs;igning
activity &longs;eized him. He ro&longs;e from his place and
&longs;trode acro&longs;s the floor, tottering and at random.
His eyes were without moi&longs;ture, and gleamed with
the fire that con&longs;umed his vitals. The mu&longs;cles of
his face were agitated by convul&longs;ion. His lips
moved, but no &longs;ound e&longs;caped him.

That nature &longs;hould long &longs;u&longs;tain this conflict was
not to be believed. My &longs;tate was little different
from that of my brother. I entered, as it were,
into his thought. My heart was vi&longs;ited and rent
by his pangs—Oh that thy phrenzy had never been
cured! that thy madne&longs;s, with its bli&longs;sful vi&longs;ions,
would return! or, if that mu&longs;t not be, that thy
&longs;cene would ha&longs;ten to a clo&longs;e! that death would
cover thee with his oblivion!

What can I wi&longs;h for thee? Thou who ha&longs;t
vied with the great preacher of thy faith in &longs;anctity
of motives, and in elevation above &longs;en&longs;ual and selfish!
Thou whom thy fate has changed into

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paricide and &longs;avage! Can I wi&longs;h for the continuance
of thy being? No.

For a time his movements &longs;eemed de&longs;titute of
purpo&longs;e. If he walked; if he turned; if his fingers
were entwined with each other; if his hands were
pre&longs;&longs;ed again&longs;t oppo&longs;ite &longs;ides of his head with a
force &longs;ufficient to cru&longs;h it into pieces; it was to
tear his mind from &longs;elf-contemplation; to wa&longs;te his
thoughts on external objects.

Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared
to be darted into his mind, which gave a
purpo&longs;e to his efforts. An avenue to e&longs;cape presented
it&longs;elf; and now he eagerly gazed about him:
when my thoughts became engaged by his demeanour,
my fingers were &longs;tretched as by a mechanical
force, and the knife, no longer heeded or of u&longs;e,
e&longs;caped from my gra&longs;p, and fell unperceived on the
floor. His eye now lighted upon it; he &longs;eized it
with the quickne&longs;s of thought.

I &longs;hrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged
it to the hilt in his neck; and his life in&longs;tantly
e&longs;caped with the &longs;tream that gu&longs;hed from the
wound. He was &longs;tretched at my feet; and my
hands were &longs;prinkled with his blood as he fell.

Such was thy la&longs;t deed, my brother! For a spectacle
like this was it my fate to be re&longs;erved! Thy
eyes were clo&longs;ed—thy face gha&longs;tly with death—
thy arms, and the &longs;pot where thou liede&longs;t, floated
in thy life's blood! The&longs;e images have not, for a
moment, for&longs;aken me. Till I am breathle&longs;s and
cold, they mu&longs;t continue to hover in my &longs;ight.

Carwin, as I &longs;aid, had left the room, but he &longs;till
lingered in the hou&longs;e. My voice &longs;ummoned him
to my aid; but I &longs;carcely noticed his re-entrance,
and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his
broken exclamations, his vehement avowals of

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innocence, the effu&longs;ions of his pity for me, and his
offers of a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance.

I did not li&longs;ten—I an&longs;wered him not—I cea&longs;ed
to upbraid or accu&longs;e. His guilt was a point to
which I was indifferent. Ruffian or devil, black
as hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was nothing
to me. I was incapable of &longs;paring a look or
a thought from the ruin that was &longs;pread at my feet.

When he left me, I was &longs;carcely con&longs;cious of
any variation in the &longs;cene. He informed the inhabitants
of the hut of what had pa&longs;&longs;ed, and they
flew to the &longs;pot. Carele&longs;s of his own &longs;afety, he
ha&longs;ted to the city to inform my friends of my condition.

My uncle &longs;peedily arrived at the hou&longs;e. The
body of Wieland was removed from my pre&longs;ence,
and they &longs;uppo&longs;ed that I would follow it; but no,
my home is a&longs;certained; here I have taken up my
re&longs;t, and never will I go hence, till, like Wieland,
I am borne to my grave.

Importunity was tried in vain: they threatened
to remove me by violence—nay, violence was u&longs;ed;
but my &longs;oul prizes too dearly this little roof to endure
to be bereaved of it. Force &longs;hould not prevail
when the hoary locks and &longs;upplicating tears of
my uncle were ineffectual. My repugnance to
move gave birth to ferociou&longs;ne&longs;s and phrenzy when
force was employed, and they were obliged to consent
to my return.

They be&longs;ought me—they remon&longs;trated—they
appealed to every duty that connected me with him
that made me, and with my fellow-men—in vain.
While I live I will not go hence. Have I not fulfilled
my de&longs;tiny?

Why will ye torment me with your rea&longs;onings
and reproofs? Can ye re&longs;tore to me the hope of

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my better days? Can ye give me back Catharine
and her babes? Can ye recall to life him who died
at my feet?

I will eat—I will drink—I will lie down and ri&longs;e
up at your bidding—all I a&longs;k is the choice of my
abode. What is there unrea&longs;onable in this demand?
Shortly will I be at peace. This is the
&longs;pot which I have cho&longs;en in which to breathe my
la&longs;t &longs;igh. Deny me not, I be&longs;eech you, &longs;o &longs;light
a boon.

Talk not to me, O my revered friend! of Carwin.
He has told thee his tale, and thou exculpatest
him from all direct concern in the fate of
Wieland. This &longs;cene of havock was produced by
an illu&longs;ion of the &longs;en&longs;es. Be it &longs;o: I care not from
what &longs;ource the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters have flowed; it &longs;uffices
that they have &longs;wallowed up our hopes and our
exi&longs;tence.

What his agency began, his agency conducted
to a clo&longs;e. He intended, by the final effort of his
power, to re&longs;cue me and to bani&longs;h his illu&longs;ions from
my brother. Such is his tale, concerning the truth
of which I care not. Henceforth I fo&longs;ter but one
wi&longs;h—I a&longs;k only quick deliverance from life and
all the ills that attend it.—

Go wretch! torment me not with thy pre&longs;ence
and thy prayers.—Forgive thee? Will that avail
thee when thy fateful hour &longs;hall arrive? Be thou
acquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou neede&longs;t not
fear the verdict of others. If thy guilt be capable
of blacker hues, if hitherto thy con&longs;cience be without
&longs;tain, thy crime will be made more flagrant by
thus violating my retreat. Take thy&longs;elf away from
my &longs;ight if thou woulde&longs;t not behold my death!

Thou art gone! murmuring and reluctant! And
now my repo&longs;e is coming—my work is done!

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