We
shall not attempt to record all the dark revelations he made of his own
evil thoughts and deeds, as we would spare the reader's feelings from the
shock so revolting a record would produce. In his delirium he raved of the
past, and unbosomed his intentions for the future. First he seemed to be
enacting over the tragic scenes of the day.
"Tear away the fagots!" he cried. "I say, tear them away! Stupid
blockheads! do you not know that I must have my revenge on the girl?
Scatter the fagots! Gods! if she dies the heart's blood of every dog of you
shall be spilled! I--I must, I _will_ have her alive!"
During the utterance of those words his voice, gestures, and expression of
countenance were in keeping with the language itself, and truly horrible.
Suddenly a change came over his countenance; the dark lines of passion
retreated, and an expression of timidity or fear came in their place. He
muttered incoherently for a time, and then, as if communing with himself,
he spoke in a subdued voice of the last scene in his conscious life. A few
sentences were audible and connected, showing how his mind was affected by
the tempest:
"How I dread the storm! It tells me there is a God! that the thunder is his
voice, and the fierce wind but the motion of his breath! And the lightning!
oh, the lightning! how it looks into the heart and exposes all its secrets
to the eye of Deity! What a flash was that! Come! to the cave! to the
cave!"
With the concluding words his quiet ceased, and he struggled as if exerting
himself to do something very hastily.
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