Demon eyes, of a wild and ghastly vivacity, glared
upon me in a thousand directions, where none had been visible
before, and gleamed with the lurid lustre of a fire that I could not
force my imagination to regard as unreal.
Unreal! --Even while I breathed there came to my nostrils the breath
of the vapour of heated iron! A suffocating odour pervaded the prison!
A deeper glow settled each moment in the eyes that glared at my
agonies! A richer tint of crimson diffused itself over the pictured
horrors of blood. I panted! I gasped for breath! There could be no
doubt of the design of my tormentors --oh! most unrelenting! oh!
most demoniac of men! I shrank from the glowing metal to the centre of
the cell. Amid the thought of the fiery destruction that impended, the
idea of the coolness of the well came over my soul like balm. I rushed
to its deadly brink. I threw my straining vision below. The glare from
the enkindled roof illumined its inmost recesses. Yet, for a wild
moment, did my spirit refuse to comprehend the meaning of what I
saw. At length it forced --it wrestled its way into my soul --it
burned itself in upon my shuddering reason. --Oh! for a voice to
speak! --oh! horror! --oh! any horror but this! With a shriek, I
rushed from the margin, and buried my face in my hands --weeping
bitterly.
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