the emotions that were
written in them.

These appearances diverted Catharine's inquiries into a new channel.
What did they mean, she asked, by their silence, and by their thus
gazing wildly at each other, and at her? Pleyel profited by this hint,
and assuming an air of indifference, framed some trifling excuse, at the
same time darting significant glances at Wieland, as if to caution him
against disclosing the truth. My brother said nothing, but delivered
himself up to meditation. I likewise was silent, but burned with
impatience to fathom this mystery. Presently my brother and his wife,
and Louisa, returned home. Pleyel proposed, of his own accord, to be
my guest for the night. This circumstance, in addition to those which
preceded, gave new edge to my wonder.

As soon as we were left alone, Pleyel's countenance assumed an air of
seriousness, and even consternation, which I had never before beheld in
him. The steps with which he measured the floor betokened the trouble of
his thoughts. My inquiries were suspended by the hope that he would give
me the information that I wanted without the importunity of questions.
I waited some time, but the confusion of his thoughts appeared in no
degree to abate. At length I mentioned the apprehensions which their
unusual absence had occasioned, and which were increased by their
behaviour since their return, and solicited an explanation. He stopped
when I began to speak, and looked stedfastly at me. When I had done,
he said, to me, in a tone which faultered through the vehemence of his
emotions, "How were you employed during our absence?" "In turning over
the Della Crusca dictionary, and talking on different subjects; but
just before your entrance, we were tormenting ourselves with omens and
prognosticks relative to your absence." "Catherine was with you the
whole time?" "Yes." "But are you sure?" "Most sure. She was not absent a
moment." He stood, for a time, as if to assure himself of my sincerity.
Then, clinching his hands, and wildly lifting them above his head, "Lo,"
cried he, "I have news to tell you. The Baroness de Stolberg is dead?"

This was her whom he loved. I was not surprised at the agitations which
he betrayed. "But how was the information procured? How was the truth
of this news connected with the circumstance of Catharine's remaining in
our company?" He was for some time inattentive to my questions. When he
spoke, it seemed merely a continuation of the reverie into