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 frenzy, 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 indescribable repugnance.
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