is face: I was
dubious of his purpose: this purpose might aim at my life.

Alas! nothing but subjection to danger, and exposure to temptation,
can show us what we are. By this test was I now tried, and found to be
cowardly and rash. Men can deliberately untie the thread of life, and of
this I had deemed myself capable; yet now that I stood upon the brink
of fate, that the knife of the sacrificer was aimed at my heart, I
shuddered and betook myself to any means of escape, however monstrous.

Can I bear to think--can I endure to relate the outrage which my heart
meditated? Where were my means of safety? Resistance was vain. Not even
the energy of despair could set me on a level with that strength which
his terrific prompter had bestowed upon Wieland. Terror enables us to
perform incredible feats; but terror was not then the state of my mind:
where then were my hopes of rescue?

Methinks it is too much. I stand aside, as it were, from myself; I
estimate my own deservings; a hatred, immortal and inexorable, is my
due. I listen to my own pleas, and find them empty and false: yes, I
acknowledge that my guilt surpasses that of all mankind: I confess that
the curses of a world, and the frowns of a deity, are inadequate to my
demerits. Is there a thing in the world worthy of infinite abhorrence?
It is I. What shall I say! I was menaced, as I thought, with death, and,
to elude this evil, my hand was ready to inflict death upon the menacer.
In visiting my house, I had made provision against the machinations of
Carwin. In a fold of my dress an open penknife was concealed. This I
now seized and drew forth. It lurked out of view: but I now see that my
state of mind would have rendered the deed inevitable if my brother
had lifted his hand. This instrument of my preservation would have been
plunged into his heart.

O, insupportable remembrance! hide thee from my view for a time; hide
it from me that my heart was black enough to meditate the stabbing of a
brother! a brother thus supreme in misery; thus towering in virtue!

He was probably unconscious of my design, but presently drew back.
This interval was sufficient to restore me to myself. The madness, the
iniquity of that act which I had purposed rushed upon my apprehension.
For a moment I was breathless with agony. At the next moment I recovered
my strength, and threw the knife with violence on the floor.

The sound awoke my brother from his reverie. He gazed alternately at me