Chapter XXVI
My right hand, grasping the unseen knife, was still disengaged. It waslifted to strike. All my strength was exhausted, but what was sufficientto the performance of this deed. Already was the energy awakened,and the impulse given, that should bear the fatal steel to his heart,when--Wieland shrunk back: his hand was withdrawn. Breathless withaffright and desperation, I stood, freed from his grasp; unassailed;untouched.
Thus long had the power which controuled the scene forborne tointerfere; but now his might was irresistible, and Wieland in a momentwas disarmed of all his purposes. A voice, louder than human organscould produce, shriller than language can depict, burst from theceiling, and commanded him--TO HOLD!
Trouble and dismay succeeded to the stedfastness that had lately beendisplayed in the looks of Wieland. His eyes roved from one quarter toanother, with an expression of doubt. He seemed to wait for a furtherintimation.
Carwin's agency was here easily recognized. I had besought him tointerpose in my defence. He had flown. I had imagined him deaf to myprayer, and resolute to see me perish: yet he disappeared merely todevise and execute the means of my relief.
Why did he not forbear when this end was accomplished? Why did hismisjudging zeal and accursed precipitation overpass that limit? Or meanthe thus to crown the scene, and conduct his inscrutable plots to thisconsummation?
Such ideas were the fruit of subsequent contemplation. This momentwas pregnant with fate. I had no power to reason. In the career of mytempestuous thoughts, rent into pieces, as my mind was, by accumulatinghorrors, Carwin was unseen and unsuspected. I partook of Wieland'scredulity, shook with his amazement, and panted with his awe.
Silence took place for a moment; so much as allowed the attention torecover its post. Then new sounds were uttered from above.
"Man of errors! cease to cherish thy delusion: not heaven or hell, butthy senses have misled thee to commit these acts. Shake off thy phrenzy,and ascend into rational and human. Be lunatic no longer."
My brother opened his lips to speak. His tone was terrific and faint. Hemuttered an appeal to heaven. It was difficult to comprehend the themeof his inquiries. They implied doubt as to the nature of the impulsethat hitherto had guided him, and questioned whether he had acted inconsequence of insane perceptions.
To these interrogatories the voice, which now seemed to hover at hisshoulder, loudly answered in the affirmative. Then uninterrupted silenceensued.
Fallen from his lofty and heroic station; now finally restored to theperception of truth; weighed to earth by the recollection of his owndeeds; consoled no longer by a consciousness of rectitude, for theloss of offspring and wife--a loss for which he was indebted to his ownmisguided hand; Wieland was transformed at once into the man OF SORROWS!
He reflected not that credit should be as reasonably denied to the last,as to any former intimation; that one might as justly be ascribed toerring or diseased senses as the other. He saw not that this discoveryin no degree affected the integrity of his conduct; that his motives hadlost none of their claims to the homage of mankind; that the preferenceof supreme good, and the boundless energy of duty, were undiminished inhis bosom.
It is not for me to pursue him through the ghastly changes of hiscountenance. Words he had none. Now he sat upon the floor, motionless inall his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed; a monument of woe.
Anon a spirit of tempestuous but undesigning activity seized him.He rose from his place and strode across the floor, tottering and atrandom. His eyes were without moisture, and gleamed with the firethat consumed his vitals. The muscles of his face were agitated byconvulsion. His lips moved, but no sound escaped him.
That nature should long sustain this conflict was not to be believed.My state was little different from that of my brother. I entered, as itwere, into his thought. My heart was visited and rent by his pangs--Ohthat thy phrenzy had never been cured! that thy madness, with itsblissful visions, would return! or, if that must not be, that thy scenewould hasten to a close! that death would cover thee with his oblivion!
What can I wish for thee? Thou who hast vied with the great preacherof thy faith in sanctity of motives, and in elevation above sensual andselfish! Thou whom thy fate has changed into paricide and savage! Can Iwish for the continuance of thy being? No.
For a time his movements seemed destitute of purpose. If he walked; ifhe turned; if his fingers were entwined with each other; if his handswere pressed against opposite sides of his head with a forcesufficient to crush it into pieces; it was to tear his mind fromself-contemplation; to waste his thoughts on external objects.
Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared to be darted into hismind, which gave a purpose to his efforts. An avenue to escape presenteditself; and now he eagerly gazed about him: when my thoughts becameengaged by his demeanour, my fingers were stretched as by a mechanicalforce, and the knife, no longer heeded or of use, escaped from my grasp,and fell unperceived on the floor. His eye now lighted upon it; heseized it with the quickness of thought.
I shrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged it to the hilt in hisneck; and his life instantly escaped with the stream that gushed fromthe wound. He was stretched at my feet; and my hands were sprinkled withhis blood as he fell.
Such was thy last deed, my brother! For a spectacle like this was itmy fate to be reserved! Thy eyes were closed--thy face ghastly withdeath--thy arms, and the spot where thou liedest, floated in thy life'sblood! These images have not, for a moment, forsaken me. Till I ambreathless and cold, they must continue to hover in my sight.
Carwin, as I said, had left the room, but he still lingered in thehouse. My voice summoned him to my aid; but I scarcely noticed hisre-entrance, and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his brokenexclamations, his vehement avowals of innocence, the effusions of hispity for me, and his offers of assistance.
I did not listen--I answered him not--I ceased to upbraid or accuse. Hisguilt was a point to which I was indifferent. Ruffian or devil, blackas hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was nothing to me. I wasincapable of sparing a look or a thought from the ruin that was spreadat my feet.
When he left me, I was scarcely conscious of any variation in the scene.He informed the inhabitants of the hut of what had passed, and they flewto the spot. Careless of his own safety, he hasted to the city to informmy friends of my condition.
My uncle speedily arrived at the house. The body of Wieland was removedfrom my presence, and they supposed that I would follow it; but no, myhome is ascertained; here I have taken up my rest, and never will I gohence, till, like Wieland, I am borne to my grave.
Importunity was tried in vain: they threatened to remove me byviolence--nay, violence was used; but my soul prizes too dearly thislittle roof to endure to be bereaved of it. Force should notprevail when the hoary locks and supplicating tears of my uncle wereineffectual. My repugnance to move gave birth to ferociousness andphrenzy when force was employed, and they were obliged to consent to myreturn.
They besought me--they remonstrated--they appealed to every duty thatconnected 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 destiny?
Why will ye torment me with your reasonings and reproofs? Can ye restoreto me the hope of my better days? Can ye give me back Catharine and herbabes? Can ye recall to life him who died at my feet?
I will eat--I will drink--I will lie down and rise up at yourbidding--all I ask is the choice of my abode. What is there unreasonablein this demand? Shortly will I be at peace. This is the spot which Ihave chosen in which to breathe my last sigh. Deny me not, I beseechyou, so slight a boon.
Talk not to me, O my revered friend! of Carwin. He has told thee histale, and thou exculpatest him from all direct concern in the fate ofWieland. This scene of havock was produced by an illusion of the senses.Be it so: I care not from what source these disasters have flowed; itsuffices that they have swallowed up our hopes and our existence.
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nbsp; What his agency began, his agency conducted to a close. He intended, bythe final effort of his power, to rescue me and to banish his illusionsfrom my brother. Such is his tale, concerning the truth of which I carenot. Henceforth I foster but one wish--I ask only quick deliverance fromlife and all the ills that attend it.--
Go wretch! torment me not with thy presence and thy prayers.--Forgivethee? Will that avail thee when thy fateful hour shall arrive? Be thouacquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou needest not fear the verdictof others. If thy guilt be capable of blacker hues, if hitherto thyconscience be without stain, thy crime will be made more flagrant bythus violating my retreat. Take thyself away from my sight if thouwouldest not behold my death!
Thou are gone! murmuring and reluctant! And now my repose is coming--mywork is done!