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Carleton, William, 1794-1869

"The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain The Works of William Carleton, Volume One"


Yes; you have sold yourself as a slave--a bond-slave--have become the
creature and instrument of his vices--the clay in his hands that he can
mould as he pleases, and that he will crush and trample on, and shiver
to pieces, the moment his cruel, unjust, and diabolical purposes are
served."
Anthony's face was a study, but a fearful study, whilst the priest
spoke. As the reverend gentleman went on, it darkened into the
expression of perfect torture; he gasped and started as if every word
uttered had given him a mortal stab; his keen old eye nickered with
scintillations of unnatural and turbid fire, until the rebuke was ended.
The priest had observed this, and naturally imputed the feeling to an
impression of remorse, not, it is true, unmingled with indignation. We
may imagine his surprise, therefore, on seeing that face suddenly change
into one of the wildest and most malignant delight. A series of dry,
husky hiccoughs, or what is termed the black laugh, rapidly repeated,
proceeded from between his thin jaws, and his eyes now blazed with an
expression of such fiery and triumphant vengeance, that the other felt
as if some fiendish incarnation of malignity, and not a man, sat before
him.


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