which he had
been plunged.

"And yet it might be a mere deception. But could both of us in that
case have been deceived? A rare and prodigious coincidence! Barely not
impossible. And yet, if the accent be oracular--Theresa is dead. No,
no," continued he, covering his face with his hands, and in a tone half
broken into sobs, "I cannot believe it. She has not written, but if
she were dead, the faithful Bertrand would have given me the earliest
information. And yet if he knew his master, he must have easily guessed
at the effect of such tidings. In pity to me he was silent."

"Clara, forgive me; to you, this behaviour is mysterious. I will explain
as well as I am able. But say not a word to Catharine. Her strength of
mind is inferior to your's. She will, besides, have more reason to be
startled. She is Wieland's angel."

Pleyel proceeded to inform me, for the first time, of the scheme which
he had pressed, with so much earnestness, on my brother. He enumerated
the objections which had been made, and the industry with which he
had endeavoured to confute them. He mentioned the effect upon his
resolutions produced by the failure of a letter. "During our late walk,"
continued he, "I introduced the subject that was nearest my heart.
I re-urged all my former arguments, and placed them in more forcible
lights. Wieland was still refractory. He expatiated on the perils of
wealth and power, on the sacredness of conjugal and parental duties, and
the happiness of mediocrity.

"No wonder that the time passed, unperceived, away. Our whole souls were
engaged in this cause. Several times we came to the foot of the rock;
as soon as we perceived it, we changed our course, but never failed to
terminate our circuitous and devious ramble at this spot. At length your
brother observed, 'We seem to be led hither by a kind of fatality. Since
we are so near, let us ascend and rest ourselves a while. If you are not
weary of this argument we will resume it there.'

"I tacitly consented. We mounted the stairs, and drawing the sofa in
front of the river, we seated ourselves upon it. I took up the thread of
our discourse where we had dropped it. I ridiculed his dread of the sea,
and his attachment to home. I kept on in this strain, so congenial with
my disposition, for some time, uninterrupted by him. At length, he said
to me, "Suppose now that I, whom argument has not convinced, should
yield to ridicule, and should agree that your scheme is eligi