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Wieland: or, the Transformation, an American Tale by Charles Brockden Brown
page 18 of 311 (05%)
to meditate a second thought, but rushed into the entry and
knocked loudly at the door of her brother's chamber. My uncle
had been previously roused by the noise, and instantly flew to
the window. He also imagined what he saw to be fire. The loud
and vehement shrieks which succeeded the first explosion, seemed
to be an invocation of succour. The incident was inexplicable;
but he could not fail to perceive the propriety of hastening to
the spot. He was unbolting the door, when his sister's voice
was heard on the outside conjuring him to come forth.

He obeyed the summons with all the speed in his power. He
stopped not to question her, but hurried down stairs and across
the meadow which lay between the house and the rock. The
shrieks were no longer to be heard; but a blazing light was
clearly discernible between the columns of the temple.
Irregular steps, hewn in the stone, led him to the summit. On
three sides, this edifice touched the very verge of the cliff.
On the fourth side, which might be regarded as the front, there
was an area of small extent, to which the rude staircase
conducted you. My uncle speedily gained this spot. His
strength was for a moment exhausted by his haste. He paused to
rest himself. Meanwhile he bent the most vigilant attention
towards the object before him.

Within the columns he beheld what he could no better
describe, than by saying that it resembled a cloud impregnated
with light. It had the brightness of flame, but was without its
upward motion. It did not occupy the whole area, and rose but
a few feet above the floor. No part of the building was on
fire. This appearance was astonishing. He approached the
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