"
For a time his movements seemed destitute of purpose. If he
walked; if he turned; if his fingers were entwined with each other;
if his hands were pressed against opposite sides of his head with a
force sufficient to crush it into pieces; it was to tear his mind
from self-contemplation; to waste his thoughts on external objects.
Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared to be darted into
his mind which gave a purpose to his efforts. An avenue to escape
presented itself; and now he eagerly gazed about him. When my
thoughts became engaged by his demeanor, my fingers were stretched
as by a mechanical force, and the knife, no longer heeded or of
use, escaped from my grasp and fell unperceived on the floor. His
eye now lighted upon it; he seized it with the quickness of
thought.
I shrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged it to the hilt
in his neck; and his life instantly escaped with the stream that
gushed from the wound. He was stretched at my feet; and my hands
were sprinkled with his blood as he fell.
Such was thy last deed, my brother! For a spectacle like this was
it my fate to be reserved! Thy eyes were closed--thy face ghastly
with death--thy arms, and the spot where thou lyedst, floated in
thy life's blood! These images have not for a moment forsaken me.
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