osed of
thousands whom rumours of this wonderful event had attracted from the
greatest distance. A long and impartial examination was made, and the
prisoner was called upon for his defence. In compliance with this call
he delivered an ample relation of his motives and actions." There he
stopped.

I besought him to say who this criminal was, and what the instigations
that compelled him. My uncle was silent. I urged this inquiry with new
force. I reverted to my own knowledge, and sought in this some basis to
conjecture. I ran over the scanty catalogue of the men whom I knew; I
lighted on no one who was qualified for ministering to malice like this.
Again I resorted to importunity. Had I ever seen the criminal? Was it
sheer cruelty, or diabolical revenge that produced this overthrow?

He surveyed me, for a considerable time, and listened to my
interrogations in silence. At length he spoke: "Clara, I have known thee
by report, and in some degree by observation. Thou art a being of no
vulgar sort. Thy friends have hitherto treated thee as a child. They
meant well, but, perhaps, they were unacquainted with thy strength. I
assure myself that nothing will surpass thy fortitude.

"Thou art anxious to know the destroyer of thy family, his actions, and
his motives. Shall I call him to thy presence, and permit him to confess
before thee? Shall I make him the narrator of his own tale?"

I started on my feet, and looked round me with fearful glances, as if
the murderer was close at hand. "What do you mean?" said I; "put an end,
I beseech you, to this suspence."

"Be not alarmed; you will never more behold the face of this criminal,
unless he be gifted with supernatural strength, and sever like threads
the constraint of links and bolts. I have said that the assassin was
arraigned at the bar, and that the trial ended with a summons from the
judge to confess or to vindicate his actions. A reply was immediately
made with significance of gesture, and a tranquil majesty, which denoted
less of humanity than godhead. Judges, advocates and auditors were
panic-struck and breathless with attention. One of the hearers
faithfully recorded the speech. There it is," continued he, putting a
roll of papers in my hand, "you may read it at your leisure."

With these words my uncle left me alone. My curiosity refused me a
moment's delay. I opened the papers, and read as follows.

Chapter XIX

"Theodore Wieland, the prisoner at the bar, wa