Part 23 (1/2)

As it was generally known that Father Philip was to visit Mrs. Sullivan the next day, in order to hear an account of the mystery which filled the parish with such fear, a very great number of the paris.h.i.+oners were a.s.sembled in and about Bartley's long before he made his appearance. At length he was seen walking slowly down the road, with an open book in his hand, on the pages of which he looked from time to time. When he approached the house, those who were standing about it a.s.sembled in a body, and, with one consent, uncovered their heads, and asked his blessing. His appearance bespoke a mind ill at ease; his face was haggard, and his eyes bloodshot. On seeing the people kneel, he smiled with his usual bitterness, and, shaking his hand with an air of impatience over them, muttered some words, rather in mockery of the ceremony than otherwise. They then rose, and blessing themselves, put on their hats, rubbed the dust off their knees, and appeared to think themselves recruited by a peculiar accession of grace.

On entering the house the same form was repeated; and when it was over, the best chair was placed for him by Mary's own hands, and the fire stirred up, and a line of respect drawn, within which none was to intrude, lest he might feel in any degree incommoded.

”My good neighbor,” said he to Mrs. Sullivan, ”what strange woman is this, who has thrown the parish into such a ferment? I'm told she paid you a visit? Pray sit down.”

”I humbly thank your Reverence,” said Mary, curtseying lowly, ”but I'd rather not sit, sir, if you plase. I hope I know what respect manes, your Reverence. Barny Bradagh, I'll thank you to stand up, if you plase, an' his Reverence to the fore, Barny.”

”I ax your Reverence's pardon, an' yours, too, Mrs. Sullivan: sure we didn't mane the disrespect, any how, sir, plase your Reverence.”

”About this woman, and the _Lianhan Shee?_” said the priest, without noticing Barny's apology. ”Pray what do you precisely understand by a _Lianhan Shee?_”

”Why, sir,” replied Mary, ”some sthrange bein' from the good people, or fairies, that sticks to some persons. There's a bargain, sir, your Reverence, made atween thim; an' the divil, sir, that is, the ould boy--the saints about us!--has a hand in it. The _Lianhan Shee_, your Reverence, is never seen only by thim it keeps wid; but--hem!--it always, with the help of the ould boy, conthrives, sir, to make the person brake the agreement, an' thin it has thim in its power; but if they don't brake the agreement, thin it's in their power. If they can get any body to put in their place, they may get out o' the bargain; for they can, of a sartainty, give oceans o' money to people, but can't take any themselves, plase your Reverence. But sure, where's the use o' me to be tellin' your Reverence what you know betther nor myself?--an' why shouldn't you, or any one that has the power you have?”

He smiled again at this in his own peculiar manner, and was proceeding to inquire more particularly into the nature of the interview between them, when the noise of feet, and sounds of general alarm, accompanied by a rush of people into the house, arrested his attention, and he hastily inquired into the cause of the commotion. Before he could receive a reply, however, the house was almost crowded; and it was not without considerable difficulty, that, by the exertions of Mrs. Sullivan and Bartley, sufficient order and quiet were obtained to hear distinctly what was said.

”Plase your Reverence,” said several voices at once, ”they're comin', hot-foot, into the very house to us! Was ever the likes seen! an' they must know right well, sir, that you're widin in it.”

”Who are coming?” he inquired. ”Why the woman, sir, an' her good pet, the _Lianhan Shee_, your Reverence.”

”Well,” said he, ”but why should you all appear so blanched with terror?

Let her come in, and we shall see how far she is capable of injuring her fellow-creatures: some maniac,” he muttered, in a low soliloquy, ”whom the villany of the world has driven into derangement--some victim to a hand like m----. Well, they say there is a Providence, yet such things are permitted!”

”He's sayin' a prayer now,” observed one of them; ”haven't we a good right to be thankful that he's in the place wid us while she's in it, or dear knows what harm she might do us--maybe rise the wind!”* As the latter speaker concluded, there was a dead silence. The persons about the door crushed each other backwards, their feet set out before them, and their shoulders laid with violent pressure against those who stood behind, for each felt anxious to avoid all danger of contact with a being against whose power even a blessed priest found it necessary to guard himself by a prayer.

* It is generally supposed by the people, that persons who have entered into a compact with Satan can raise the wind by calling him up, and that it cannot be laid unless by the death of a black c.o.c.k, a black dog, or an unchristened child.

At length a low murmur ran among the people--”Father O'Rourke!--here's Father O'Rourke!--he has turned the corner after her, an' they're both comin' in.” Immediately they entered, but it was quite evident from the manner of the worthy priest that he was unacquainted with the person of this singular being. When they crossed the threshold, the priest advanced, and expressed his surprise at the throng of people a.s.sembled.

”Plase your Reverence,” said Bartley, ”that's the woman,” nodding significantly towards her as he spoke, but without looking at her person, lest the evil eye he dreaded so much might meet his, and give him ”the blast.”

The dreaded female, on seeing the house in such a crowded state, started, paused, and glanced with some terror at the persons a.s.sembled.

Her dress was not altered since her last visit; but her countenance, though more meagre and emaciated, expressed but little of the unsettled energy which then flashed from her eyes, and distorted her features by the depth of that mysterious excitement by which she had been agitated.

Her countenance was still m.u.f.fled as before, the awful protuberance rose from her shoulders, and the same band which Mrs. Sullivan had alluded to during their interview, was bound about the upper part of her forehead.

She had already stood upwards of two minutes, during which the fall of a feather might be heard, yet none bade G.o.d bless her--no kind hand was extended to greet her--no heart warmed in affection towards her; on the contrary, every eye glanced at her, as a being marked with enmity towards G.o.d. Blanched faces and knit brows, the signs of fear and hatred, were turned upon her; her breath was considered pestilential, and her touch paralysis. There she stood, proscribed, avoided, and hunted like a tigress, all fearing to encounter, yet wis.h.i.+ng to exterminate her! Who could she be?--or what had she done, that the finger of the Almighty marked her out for such a fearful weight of vengeance?

Father Philip rose and advanced a few steps, until he stood confronting her. His person was tall, his features dark, severe, and solemn: and when the nature of the investigation about to take place is considered, it need not be wondered at, that the moment was, to those present, one of deep and impressive interest--such as a visible conflict between a supposed champion of G.o.d and a supernatural being was calculated to excite.

”Woman,” said he, in his deep stern voice, ”tell me who and what you are, and why you a.s.sume a character of such a repulsive and mysterious nature, when it can entail only misery, shame, and persecution on yourself? I conjure you, in the name of Him after whose image you are created, to speak truly?”

He paused, and the tall figure stood mute before him. The silence was dead as death--every breath was hushed and the persons a.s.sembled stood immovable as statues! Still she spoke not; but the violent heaving of her breast evinced the internal working of some dreadful struggle. Her face before was pale--it was now ghastly; her lips became blue, and her eyes vacant.

”Speak!” said he, ”I conjure you in the name of the power by whom we live!”

It is probable that the agitation under which she labored was produced by the severe effort made to sustain the unexpected trial she had to undergo.

For some minutes her struggle continued; but having begun at its highest pitch, it gradually subsided until it settled in a calmness which appeared fixed and awful as the resolution of despair. With breathless composure she turned round, and put back that part of her dress which concealed her face, except the band on her forehead, which she did not remove; having done this she turned again, and walked calmly towards Father Philip, with a deadly smile upon her thin lips. When within a step of where he stood, she paused, and riveting her eyes upon him exclaimed--

”Who and what am I? The victim of infidelity and you, the bearer of a cursed existence, the scoff and scorn of the world, the monument of a broken vow and a guilty life, a being scourged by the scorpion lash of conscience, blasted by periodical insanity, pelted by the winter's storm, scorched by the summer's heat, withered by starvation, hated by man, and touched into my inmost spirit by the antic.i.p.ated tortures of future misery. I have no rest for the sole of my foot, no repose for a head distracted by the contemplation of a guilty life; I am the unclean spirit which walketh to seek rest and findeth none; I am--_what you have made me!_ Behold,” she added, holding up the bottle, ”this failed, and I live to accuse you. But no, you are my husband--though our union was but a guilty form, and I will bury that in silence. You thought me dead, and you flew to avoid punishment--did you avoid it? No; the finger of G.o.d has written pain and punishment upon your brow. I have been in all characters, in all shapes, have spoken with the tongue of a peasant, moved in my natural sphere; but my knees were smitten, my brain stricken, and the wild malady which banishes me from society has been upon me for years. Such I am, and such, I say, have you made me. As for you, kind-hearted woman, there was nothing in this bottle but pure water. The interval of reason returned this day, and having remembered glimpses of our conversation, I came to apologize to you, and to explain the nature of my unhappy distemper, and to beg a little bread, which I have not tasted for two days. I at times conceive myself attended by an evil spirit shaped out by a guilty conscience, and this is the only familiar which attends me, and by it I have been dogged into madness through every turning of life. Whilst it lasts I am subject to spasms and convulsive starts which are exceedingly painful. The lump on my back is the robe I wore when innocent in my peaceful convent.”

The intensity of general interest was now transferred to Father Philip; every face was turned towards him, but he cared not. A solemn stillness yet prevailed among all present. From the moment she spoke, her eye drew his with the power of a basilisk. His pale face became like marble, not a muscle moved; and when she ceased speaking, his blood-shot eyes were still fixed upon her countenance with a gloomy calmness like that which precedes a tempest. They stood before each other, dreadful counterparts in guilt, for truly his spirit was as dark as hers.

At length he glanced angrily around him;--”Well,” said he, ”what is it now, ye poor infatuated wretches, to trust in the sanct.i.ty of man.