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
* 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 cock, 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 assembled.
“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 assembled.
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 muffled 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 God 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 God. 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 wishing 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 God 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 assume 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?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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