“Come along with me; fly; waste not a moment; time will be lost, and the deed will be omitted.  Tarry not, question not, but fly with me.”

This deportment added afresh to her alarms.  Her eyes pursued mine, and she said, “What is the matter?  For God’s sake, what is the matter?  Where would you have me go?”

My eyes were fixed upon her countenance while she spoke.  I thought upon her virtues; I viewed her as the mother of my babes; as my wife.  I recalled the purpose for which I thus urged her attendance.  My heart faltered, and I saw that I must rouse to this work all my faculties.  The danger of the least delay was imminent.

I looked away from her, and, again exerting my force, drew her toward the door.  “You must go with me; indeed you must.”

In her fright she half resisted my efforts, and again exclaimed, “Good heaven! what is it you mean?  Where go?  What has happened?  Have you found Clara?”

“Follow me and you will see,” I answered, still urging her reluctant steps forward.

“What frenzy has seized you?  Something must needs have happened.  Is she sick?  Have you found her?”

“Come and see.  Follow me and know for yourself.”

Still she expostulated and besought me to explain this mysterious behavior.  I could not trust myself to answer her, to look at her; but grasping her arm, I drew her after me.  She hesitated, rather through confusion of mind than from unwillingness to accompany me.  This confusion gradually abated, and she moved forward, but with irresolute footsteps and continual exclamations of wonder and terror.  Her interrogations of “What was the matter?” and “Whither was I going?” were ceaseless and vehement.

It was the scope of my efforts not to think; to keep up a conflict and uproar in my mind in which all order and distinctness should be lost; to escape from the sensations produced by her voice.  I was therefore silent.  I strove to abridge this interval by haste, and to waste all my attention in furious gesticulations.

In this state of mind we reached my sister’s door.  She looked at the windows and saw that all was desolate.  “Why come we here?  There is nobody here.  I will not go in.”

Still I was dumb; but, opening the door, I drew her into the entry.  This was the allotted scene; here she was to fall.  I let go her hand, and pressing my palms against my forehead, made one mighty effort to work up my soul to the deed.

In vain; it would not be; my courage was appalled, my arms nerveless.  I muttered prayers that my strength might be aided from above.  They availed nothing.

Horror diffused itself over me.  This conviction of my cowardice, my rebellion, fastened upon me, and I stood rigid and cold as marble.  From this state I was somewhat relieved by my wife’s voice, who renewed her supplications to be told why we come hither and what was the fate of my sister....