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Wieland: or, the Transformation, an American Tale by Charles Brockden Brown
page 19 of 311 (06%)
temple. As he went forward the light retired, and, when he put
his feet within the apartment, utterly vanished. The suddenness
of this transition increased the darkness that succeeded in a
tenfold degree. Fear and wonder rendered him powerless. An
occurrence like this, in a place assigned to devotion, was
adapted to intimidate the stoutest heart.

His wandering thoughts were recalled by the groans of one
near him. His sight gradually recovered its power, and he was
able to discern my father stretched on the floor. At that
moment, my mother and servants arrived with a lanthorn, and
enabled my uncle to examine more closely this scene. My father,
when he left the house, besides a loose upper vest and slippers,
wore a shirt and drawers. Now he was naked, his skin throughout
the greater part of his body was scorched and bruised. His
right arm exhibited marks as of having been struck by some heavy
body. His clothes had been removed, and it was not immediately
perceived that they were reduced to ashes. His slippers and his
hair were untouched.

He was removed to his chamber, and the requisite attention
paid to his wounds, which gradually became more painful. A
mortification speedily shewed itself in the arm, which had been
most hurt. Soon after, the other wounded parts exhibited the
like appearance.

Immediately subsequent to this disaster, my father seemed
nearly in a state of insensibility. He was passive under every
operation. He scarcely opened his eyes, and was with difficulty
prevailed upon to answer the questions that were put to him. By
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