In a state thus verging upon madness, my eye glanced upon Carwin.
His astonishment appeared to have struck him motionless and dumb.
My life was in danger, and my brother's hand was about to be
imbrued in my blood. I firmly believed that Carwin's was the
instigation. I could rescue myself from this abhorred fate; I
could dissipate this tremendous illusion; I could save my brother
from the perpetration of new horrors, by pointing out the devil who
seduced him. To hesitate a moment was to perish. These thoughts
gave strength to my limbs and energy to my accents; I started on my
feet:--
"Oh, brother! spare me! spare thyself! There is thy betrayer. He
counterfeited the voice and face of an angel, for the purpose of
destroying thee and me. He has this moment confessed it. He is
able to speak where he is not. He is leagued with hell, but will
not avow it; yet he confesses that the agency was his."
My brother turned slowly his eyes, and fixed them upon Carwin.
Every joint in the frame of the latter trembled. His complexion
was paler than a ghost's. His eye dared not meet that of Wieland,
but wandered with an air of distraction from one space to another.
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