Phil Purcel, The Pig-Driver; The Geography Of An Irish Oath; The Lianhan Shee: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
Phil Purcel, The Pig-Driver; The Geography Of An Irish Oath; The Lianhan Shee: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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