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Wieland: or, the Transformation, an American Tale by Charles Brockden Brown
page 49 of 311 (15%)
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.
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