Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2Lever, Charles
General
Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2
Lever, Charles
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Fiction
The plaintive air to which these words were sung fell heavily upon my
heart, and it needed but the low and nervous condition I was in to make me
feel their application to myself. But so it is; the very superstition your
reason rejects and your sense spurns, has, from old association, from
habit, and from mere nationality too, a hold upon your hopes and fears that
demands more firmness and courage than a sick-bed possesses to combat with
success; and I now listened with an eager ear to mark if the Banshee
cried, rather than sought to fortify myself by any recurrence to my own
convictions. Meanwhile Mike’s attitude became one of listening attention.
Not a finger moved; he scarce seemed even to breathe; the state of suspense
I suffered from was maddening; and at last, unable to bear it longer, I
was about to speak, when suddenly, from the floor beneath us, one
long-sustained note swelled upon the air and died away again, and
immediately after, to the cheerful sounds of a guitar, we heard the husky
voice of our Portuguese guide indulging himself in a love-ditty.
Ashamed of myself for my fears, I kept silent; but Mike, who felt only one
sensation,--that of unmixed satisfaction at his mistake,--rubbed his hands
pleasantly, filled up his glass, drank it, and refilled; while with an
accent of reassured courage, he briefly remarked,--
“Well, Mr. José, if that be singing, upon my conscience I wonder what
crying is like!”
I could not forbear a laugh at the criticism; and in a moment, the poor
fellow, who up to that moment believed me sleeping, was beside me. I saw
from his manner that he dreaded lest I had been listening to his melancholy
song, and had overheard any of his gloomy forebodings; and as he cheered
my spirits and spoke encouragingly, I could remark that he made more than
usual endeavors to appear light-hearted and at ease. Determined, however,
not to let him escape so easily, I questioned him about his belief in
ghosts and spirits, at which he endeavored, as he ever did when the subject
was an unpleasing one, to avoid the discussion; but rather perceiving that
I indulged in no irreverent disrespect of these matters, he grew gradually
more open, treating the affair with that strange mixture of credulity and
mockery which formed his estimate of most things,--now seeming to suppose
that any palpable rejection of them might entail sad consequences in
future, now half ashamed to go the whole length in his credulity.
“And so, Mike, you never saw a ghost yourself?--that you acknowledge?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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