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 fell
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 tarnished 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