The Tithe-Proctor: The Works of William Carleton, Volume TwoCarleton, William
General
The Tithe-Proctor: The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
We have said, that the sky looked angry and portentous, and such was the
fact. During the pauses that now occurred, the distant darkness of the
surrounding country was momentarily dispelled by a stronger and more
terrific fire than that which now shot up its red and waving pyramids
from the burning houses before them. All at once the black sky opened,
and from the chasm of angry clouds a sheet of red lightning flashed,
lighting up the darkness of the country around them in a fearful manner;
but above all things, and what gave a super-added horror to the scene,
was the influence which that light, that seemed to proceed from the
vengeance of God, had upon that which proceeded from the vengeance of
man. The sheeted volume swept down, and for an instant poured over
the blazing roofs, the tottering walls, the bleeding corpses and the
black-visaged men who stood in multitudes about the place, panting with
the mad intoxication of crime; it poured upon them, we say, a light
so strong, penetrating, and intense, that its fearful distinctness was
enough to paralyze the heart, and awe those who were present from the
prosecution of their vengeance. It was, in fact, as if the Almighty
Himself had sent down His avenging angel from the heavens, to pour His
light upon them, in order to bear testimony against the dreadful work
of blood in which they were engaged. Nor was this all. Ere the pause was
broken, a burst of thunder, so deep, so loud, and so terrible, in such
an hour, pealed from a point of the sky on their right, taking its
course in the direction of the proctor's house, where, in one terrific
explosion, it seemed to burst exactly over their heads. Some were awed,
but we all know that companionship fortifies the heart in the
commission of crime, and in a few minutes the Almighty, His fires of
vengeance,--and His midnight thunders, were all alike forgotten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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