Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
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Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Just then the flames rose majestically to a surprising height. Our eyes
followed their direction; and we perceived, for the first time, that
the dark clouds above, together with the intermediate air, appeared
to reflect back, or rather to have caught the red hue of the fire. The
hills and country about us appeared with an alarming distinctness; but
the most picturesque part of it was the effect of reflection of the
blaze on the floods that spread over the surrounding plains. These, in
fact, appeared to be one broad mass of liquid copper, for the motion of
the breaking-waters caught from the blaze of the high waving column,
as reflected in them, a glaring light, which eddied, and rose, and
fluctuated, as if the flood itself had been a lake of molten fire.
Fire, however, destroys rapidly. In a short time the flames sank--became
weak and flickering--by and by, they shot out only in fits--the
crackling of the timbers died away--the surrounding darkness
deepened--and, ere long, the faint light was overpowered by the thick
volumes of smoke that rose from the ruins of the house and its murdered
inhabitants.
“Now, boys,” said the Captain, “all is safe--we may go. Remember,
every man of you, what you've sworn this night, on the book an' altar of
God--not on a heretic Bible. If you perjure yourselves, you may hang
us; but let me tell you, for your comfort, that if you do, there is
them livin' that will take care the lease of your own lives will be but
short.”
After this we dispersed every man to his own home.
Reader,--not many months elapsed ere I saw the bodies of this Captain,
whose name was Patrick Devann, and all those who were actively concerned
in the perpetration of this deed of horror, withering in the wind, where
they hung gibbeted, near the scene of their nefarious villany; and
while I inwardly thanked Heaven for my own narrow and almost undeserved
escape, I thought in my heart how seldom, even in this world, justice
fails to overtake the murder, and to enforce the righteous judgment of
God--that “whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”
*****
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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