The Purcels, in the meantime, ably served and assisted by Mrs. Purcel and her daughters, continued to deal death and destruction on the parties outside, without being yet either fatigued or disabled.  At length the terrible light of the roof that was burning over them, and the stifling heat which began to oppress them, startled the proctor into a state of feeling so awful, that it obliterated from his awakened conscience all external impressions of the dreadful havoc of human life which was taking place about him.  The feeling was deepened by a discovery that the gate had been broken and breaches made in the walls, as well as by the incredible multitude of armed persons about the premises, most of whom were now distinctly visible by the glare of the conflagration.

The life of Matthew Purcel, though unstained by any of those gross crimes which separate man from his fellows, or draw down the punishment of the law upon those who commit them, was, nevertheless, in a singular degree, unfeeling, oppressive, and rapacious.  Though plausible and clever in his manner, and anxious to stand well with the world, he was, at the same time, relentless and implacable, a tyrant within the petty sphere of his influence, a despiser of all those principles that were not calculated, no matter how, to elevate and enrich.  He ground the poor, and wrung, by the most oppressive extortion, out of their sweat and labor, all and much more than they could afford to give him.  With destitution and poverty in their most touching and pitiable shapes, he never had one moment’s sympathy, nor did the widow or orphan ever experience a single act of benevolence or mercy at his hands.

There was now a short pause in the work of destruction, but it was evident to him and his family that some new element of action was at work among the multitude, though of its character and object they could form no possible conjecture.  The Purcels had now a short space for reflection, and but a short one, for they all felt, by the increasing heat that proceeded from the burning roof, that they could not long abide under it.  Alick and the females had joined John and his father in the top room, and the latter now saw clearly that fate, in its most dreadful and appalling shape, was on him and his whole family, for it was clear, as matters stood, that neither he nor his sons, at all events, could escape the vengeance of the infuriated multitude.  In this condition, his veins swollen, and the perspiration standing in large beads upon his forehead, he took one fearful and agonizing glance upon his past life, and felt, now that he stood on the verge of eternity, that the retrospect was like a glimpse of hell.  The change that came over his features was frightful beyond all belief; his face became nearly black, and his eyes, which grew bloodshot almost in a few minutes, had, notwithstanding, a sharp delirious expression of terror that no language could depict.

“Great God! father,” exclaimed his son John, who first noticed, this change in his appearance, “what is the matter with you?”