University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.

“Deeply did I ruminate on the occurrences
that had just passed. Nothing excited my wonder
so much as the means by which you discovered my
being in the closet. This discovery appeared to be
made at the moment when you attempted to open
it. How could you have otherwise remained so
long in the chamber apparently fearless and tranquil?
And yet, having made this discovery, how
could you persist in dragging me forth: persist in
defiance of an interdiction to emphatical and solemn?

“But your sister's death was an event detestable
and ominous. She had been the victim of the most
dreadful species of assassination. How, in a state
like yours, the murderous intention could be generated,
was wholly inconceivable.

“I did not relinquish my design of confessing to
you the part which I had sustained in your family,
but I was willing to defer it till the task which I
had set myself was finished. That being done, I
resumed the resolution. The motives to incite me
to this continually acquired force. The more I revolved
the events happening at Mettingen, the more
insupportable and ominous my terrors became. My
waking hours and my sleep were vexed by dismal
presages and frightful intimations.

“Catharine was dead by violence. Surely my
malignant stars had nor made me the cause of her
death; yet had I not rashly set in motion a machine,

ever whose progress I had no controul, and which
experience had shewn me was infinite in power?
Every day might add to the catalogue of horrors of
which this was the source, and a seasonable disclosure
of the truth might prevent numberless ills.

“Fraught with this conception, I have turned
my steps hither. I find your brother's house desolate:
the furniture removed, and the walls stained
with damps. Your own is in the same situation.
Your chamber is dismantled and dark, and you
exhibit an image of incurable grief, and of rapid
decay.

“I have uttered the truth. This is the extent
of my offences. You tell me an horrid tale of
Wieland being led to the destruction of his wife and
children, by some mysterious agent. You charge
me with the guilt of this agency; but I repeat that
the amount of my guilt has been truly stated. The
perpetrator of Catharine's death was unknown to
me till now; nay, it is still unknown to me.”

At that moment, the closing of a door in the
kitchen was distinctly heard by us. Carwin started
and paused. “There is some one coming. I must
not be found here by my enemies, and need not,
since my purpose is answered.”

I had drunk in, with the most vehement attention,
every word that he had uttered. I had no breath
to interrupt his tale by interrogations or comments.
The power that he spoke of was hitherto unknown
to me: its existence was incredible; it was susceptible
of no direct proof.

He owns that his were the voice and face which
I heard and saw. He attempts to give an human
explanation of these phantasms; but it is enough
that he owns himself to be the agent; his tale is
a lie, and his nature devilish. As he deceived me,

he likewise deceived my brother, and now do I behold
the author of all our calamities!

Such were my thoughts when his pause allowed
me to think. I should have bad him begone if the
silence had not been interrupted; but now I feared
no more for myself; and the milkiness of my nature
was curdled into hatred and rancour. Some one
was near, and this enemy of God and man might
possibly be brought to justice. I reflected not that
the preternatural power which he had hitherto exerted,
would avail to rescue him from any toils in
which his feet might be entangled. Meanwhile,
looks, and not words of menace and abhorrence,
were all that I could bestow.

He did not depart. He seemed dubious, whether,
by passing out of the house, or by remaining somewhat
longer where he was, he should most endanger
his safety. His confusion increased when steps
of one barefoot were heard upon the stairs. He
threw anxious glances sometimes at the closet, sometimes
at the window, and sometimes at the chamber
door, yet he was detained by some inexplicable fascination.
He stood as if rooted to the spot.

As to me, my soul was bursting with detestation
and revenge. I had no room for surmises and fears
respecting him that approached. It was doubtless
a human being, and would befriend me so far as to
aid me in arresting this offender.

The stranger quickly entered the room. My
eyes and the eyes of Carwin were, at the same moment,
darted upon him. A second glance was not
needed to inform us who he was. His locks were
tangled, and sell confusedly over his forehead
and ears. His shirt was of coarse stuff, and open
at the neck and breast. His coat was once of
bright and fine texture, but now torn and tarnised

with dust. His feet, his legs, and his arms were
bare. His features were the seat of a wild and
tranquil solemnity, but his eyes bespoke inquietude
and curiosity.

He advanced with firm step, and looking as in
search of some one. He saw me and stopped. He
bent his sight on the floor, and clenching his hands,
appeared suddenly absorbed in meditation. Such
were the figure and deportment of Wieland! Such,
in his fallen state, were the aspect and guise of my
brother!

Carwin did not fail to recognize the visitant.
Care for his own safety was apparently swallowed
up in the amazement which this spectacle produced.
His station was conspicuous, and he could
not have escaped the roving glances of Wieland;
yet the latter seemed totally unconscious of his presence.

Grief at this scene of ruin and blast was at first
the only sentiment of which I was conscious. A
fearful stillness ensued. At length Wieland, lifting
his hands, which were locked in each other, to his
breast, exclaimed, “Father! I thank thee. This
is thy guidance. Hither thou hast led me, that I
might perform thy will: yet let me not err: let me
hear again thy messenger!”

He stood for a minute as if listening; but recovering
from his attitude, he continued—“It is not
needed. Dastardly wretch! thus eternally questioning
the behests of thy Maker! weak in resolution!
wayward in faith!”

He advanced to me, and, after another pause, resumed:
“Poor girl! a dismal fate has set its mark
upon thee. Thy life is demanded as a sacrifice.
Prepare thee to die. Make not my office difficult
by fruitless opposition. Thy prayers might subdue

stones; but none but he who enjoined my purpose
can shake it.”

These words were a sufficient explication of the
scene. The nature of his phrenzy, as described by
my uncle, was remembered. I who had sought
death, was now thrilled with horror because it was
near. Death in this form, death from the hand of
a brother, was thought upon with undescribable
repugnance.

In a state thus verging upon madness, my eye
glanced upon Carwin. His astonishment appeared
to have struck him motinless and dumb. My life
was in danger, and my brother's hand was about
to be embrued in my blood. I firmly believed that
Carwin's was the instigation. I could rescue me
from this abhorred fate; I could dissipate this tremendous
illusion; I could save my brother from the
perpetration of new horrors, by pointing out the
devil who seduced him; to hesitate a moment was
to perish. These thoughts gave strength to my limbs,
and energy to my accents: I started on my feet.

“O brother! spare me, spare thyself: There
is thy betrayer. He counterfeited the voice and
face of an angel, for the purpose of destroying thee
and me. He has this moment confessed it. He is
able to speak where he is not. He is leagued with
hell, but will not avow it; yet he confesses that the
agency was his.”

My brother turned slowly his eyes, and fixed
them upon Carwin. Every joint in the frame of
the latter trembled. His complexion was paler than
a ghost's. His eye dared not meet that of Wieland,
but wandered with an air of distraction from one
space to another.

“Man,” said my brother, in a voice totally unlike
that which he had used to me, “what art

thou? The charge has been made. Answer it.
The visage—the voice—at the bottom of these
stairs—at the hour of eleven—To whom did they
belong? To thee?”

Twice did Carwin attempt to speak, but his
words died away upon his lips. My brother resumed
in a tone of greater vehemence—

“Thou falterest; faltering is ominous; say yes
or no: one word will suffice; but beware of falsehood.
Was it a stratagem of hell to overthrow
my family? Wast thou the agent?”

I now saw that the wrath which had been prepared
for me was to be heaped upon another. The
tale that I heard from him, and his present trepidations,
were abundant testimonies of his guilt. But
what if Wieland should be undeeeived! What if
he shall find his acts to have proceeded not from an
heavenly prompter, but from human treachery!
Will not his rage mount into whirlwind? Will not
he rare limb this devoted wretch?

Instinctively I recoiled from this image, but it
gave place to another. Carwin may be innocent,
but the impetuosity of his judge may misconstrue
his answers into a consession of guilt. Wieland
knows not that mysterious voices and appearances
were likewise witnessed by me. Carwin may be
ignorant of those which misled my brother. Thus
may his answers unwarily betray himself to ruin.

Such might be the consequences of my frantic
precipitation, and these, it was necessary, if possible,
to prevent. I attempted to speak, but Wieland,
turning suddenly upon me, commanded silence, in
a tone furious and terrible. My lips closed, and
my tongue refused its office.

“What art thou?” he resumed, addressing
himself to Carwin. “Answer me; whose form—

whose voice—was it thy contrivance? Answer
me.”

The answer was now given, but confusedly and
scarcely articulated. “I meant nothing—I intended
no ill—if I understand—if I do not mistake you—it
is too true—I did appear—in the entry—did speak.
The contrivance was mine, but—”

These words were no sooner uttered, than my
brother ceased to wear the same aspect. His eyes
were downcast: he was motionless: his respiration
became hoarse, like that of a man in the agonies of
death. Carwin seemed unable to say more. He
might have easily escaped, but the thought which
occupied him related to what was horrid and unintelligible
in this scene, and not to his own danger.

Presently the faculties of Wieland, which, for a
time, were chained up, were seized with restlessness
and trembling. He broke silence. The stoutest
heart would have been appalled by the tone in
which he spoke. He addressed himself to Carwin.

“Why art thou here? Who detains thee? Go
and learn better. I will meet thee, but it must he
at the bar of thy Maker. There shall I bear witness
against thee.”

Perceiving that Carwin did not obey, he continued;
“Dost thou wish me to complete the catalogue
by thy death? Thy life is a worthlese thing.
Tempt me no more. I am but a man, and thy
presence may awaken a sury which may spurn my
controul. Begone!”

Carwin, irresolute, striving in vain for utterance,
his complexion pallid as death, his knees beating
one against another, slowly obeyed the mandate and
withdrew.