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. o 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. how is the madness of the narrator portrayed in the passage above?