ble; what
will you have gained? Nothing. You have other enemies beside myself to
encounter. When you have vanquished me, your toil has scarcely begun.
There are my sister and wife, with whom it will remain for you to
maintain the contest. And trust me, they are adversaries whom all your
force and stratagem will never subdue." I insinuated that they would
model themselves by his will: that Catharine would think obedience her
duty. He answered, with some quickness, "You mistake. Their concurrence
is indispensable. It is not my custom to exact sacrifices of this kind.
I live to be their protector and friend, and not their tyrant and foe.
If my wife shall deem her happiness, and that of her children, most
consulted by remaining where she is, here she shall remain." "But," said
I, "when she knows your pleasure, will she not conform to it?" Before
my friend had time to answer this question, a negative was clearly and
distinctly uttered from another quarter. It did not come from one side
or the other, from before us or behind. Whence then did it come? By
whose organs was it fashioned?

"If any uncertainty had existed with regard to these particulars, it
would have been removed by a deliberate and equally distinct repetition
of the same monosyllable, "No." The voice was my sister's. It appeared
to come from the roof. I started from my seat. Catharine, exclaimed I,
where are you? No answer was returned. I searched the room, and the
area before it, but in vain. Your brother was motionless in his seat.
I returned to him, and placed myself again by his side. My astonishment
was not less than his."

"Well," said he, at length, "What think you of this? This is the
self-same voice which I formerly heard; you are now convinced that my
ears were well informed."

"Yes," said I, "this, it is plain, is no fiction of the fancy." We again
sunk into mutual and thoughtful silence. A recollection of the hour, and
of the length of our absence, made me at last propose to return. We
rose up for this purpose. In doing this, my mind reverted to the
contemplation of my own condition. "Yes," said I aloud, but without
particularly addressing myself to Wieland, "my resolution is taken. I
cannot hope to prevail with my friends to accompany me. They may doze
away their days on the banks of Schuylkill, but as to me, I go in the
next vessel; I will fly to her presence, and demand the reason of this
extraordinary silence."

"I had scarcely finished the