Part 21 (2/2)

Mrs. Sullivan looked at her with awe, fear, and a strong mixture of curiosity; she had often heard that the _Lianhan Shee_ had, through means of the person to whom it was bound, conferred wealth upon several, although it could never render this important service to those who exercised direct authority over it. She therefore experienced something like a conflict between her fears and a love of that wealth, the possession of which was so plainly intimated to her.

”The money,” said she, ”would be one thing, but to have the _Lianhan Shee_ planted over a body's shouldher--och; the saints preserve us!--no, not for oceans' of hard goold would I have it in my company one minnit.

But in regard to the money--hem!--why, if it could be managed widout havin' act or part wid that thing, people would do anything in rason and fairity.”

”You have this day been kind to me,” replied the woman, ”and that's what I can't say of many--dear help me!--husht! Every door is shut in my face! Does not every cheek get pale when I am seen? If I meet a fellow-creature on the road, they turn into the field to avoid me; if I ask for food, it's to a deaf ear I speak; if I am thirsty, they send me to the river. What house would shelter me? In cold, in hunger, in drought, in storm, and in tempest, I am alone and unfriended, hated, feared, an' avoided; starving in the winter's cold, and burning in the summer's heat. All this is my fate here; and--oh! oh! oh!--have mercy, tormentor--have mercy! I will not lift my thoughts there--I'll keep the paction--but spare me now!”

She turned round as she spoke, seeming to follow an invisible object, or, perhaps, attempting to get a more complete view of the mysterious being which exercised such a terrible and painful influence over her.

Mrs. Sullivan, also, kept her eye fixed upon the lump, and actually believed that she saw it move. Fear of incurring the displeasure of what it contained, and a superst.i.tious reluctance harshly to thrust a person from her door who had eaten of her food, prevented her from desiring the woman to depart.

”In the name of Goodness,” she replied, ”I will have nothing to do wid your gift. Providence, blessed be his name, has done well for me an'

mine, an' it mightn't be right to go beyant what it has pleased him to give me.”

”A rational sentiment!--I mean there's good sense in what you say,”

answered the stranger: ”but you need not be afraid,” and she accompanied the expression by holding up the bottle and kneeling: ”now,” she added, ”listen to me, and judge for yourself, if what I say, when I swear it, can be a lie.” She then proceeded to utter oaths of the most solemn nature, the purport of which Was to a.s.sure Mrs. Sullivan that drinking of the bottle would be attended with no danger. ”You see this little bottle, drink it. Oh, for my sake and your own drink it; it will give wealth without end to you and to all belonging to you. Take one-half of it before sunrise, and the other half when he goes down. You must stand while drinking it, with your face to the east, in the morning; and at night, to the west. Will you promise to do this?”

”How would drinkin' the bottle get me money?” inquired Mrs. Sullivan, who certainly felt a strong tendency of heart to the wealth.

”That I can't tell you now, nor would you understand it, even if I could; but you will know all when what I say is complied with.”

”Keep your bottle, dacent woman. I wash my hands of it: the saints above guard me from the timptation! I'm sure it's not right, for as I'm a sinner, 'tis getting stronger every minute widin me? Keep it! I'm loth to bid any one that ett o' my bread to go from my hearth, but if you go, I'll make it worth your while. Saints above, what's comin' over me. In my whole life I never had such a hankerin' afther money! Well, well, but it's quare entirely!”

”Will you drink it?” asked her companion. ”If it does hurt or harm to you or yours, or anything but good, may what is hanging over me be fulfilled!” and she extended a thin, but, considering her years, not ungraceful arm, in the act of holding out the bottle to her kind entertainer.

”For the sake of all that's good and gracious take it without scruple--it is not hurtful, a child might drink every drop that's in it.

Oh, for the sake of all you love, and of all that love you, take it!”

and as she urged her, the tears streamed down her cheeks.

”No, no,” replied Mrs. Sullivan, ”it'll never cross my lips; not if it made me as rich as ould Hendherson, that airs his guineas in the sun, for fraid they'd get light by lyin' past.”

”I entreat you to take it?” said the strange woman.

”Never, never!--once for all--I say, I won't; so spare your breath.”

The firmness of the good housewife was not, in fact to be shaken; so, after exhausting all the motives and arguments with which she could urge the accomplishments of her design, the strange woman, having again put the bottle into her bosom, prepared to depart.

She had now once more become calm, and resumed her seat with the languid air of one who has suffered much exhaustion and excitement. She put her hand upon her forehead for a few moments, as if collecting her faculties, or endeavoring to remember the purport of their previous conversation. A slight moisture had broken through her skin, and altogether, notwithstanding her avowed criminality in entering into an unholy bond, she appeared an object of deep compa.s.sion.

In a moment her manner changed again, and her eyes blazed out once more, as she asked her alarmed hostess:--

”Again, Mary Sullivan, will you take the gift that I have it in my power to give you? ay or no? speak, poor mortal, if you know what is for your own good?”

Mrs. Sullivan's fears, however, had overcome her love of money, particularly as she thought that wealth obtained in such a manner could not prosper; her only objection being to the means of acquiring it.

”Oh!” said the stranger, ”am I doomed never to meet with any one who will take the promise off me by drinking of this bottle? Oh! but I am unhappy! What it is to fear--ah! ah!--and keep his commandments. Had I done so in my youthful time, I wouldn't now--ah--merciful mother, is there no relief? kill me, tormentor; kill me outright, for surely the pangs of eternity cannot be greater than those you now make me suffer.

Woman,” said she, and her muscles stood out in extraordinary energy-- ”woman, Mary Sullivan--ay, if you should kill me--blast me--where I stand, I will say the word--woman--you have daughters--teach them--to fear-”

<script>