The Purcell Papers — Volume 1Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
General
The Purcell Papers — Volume 1
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Fantasy fiction, English; Ireland -- Fiction
aware of the nature of our purpose, whence and by what means I knew not.
It was in vain that he sought to satisfy her by evasion, and gently
to extricate himself from her embrace. She knelt upon the ground, and
clasped her arms round his legs, uttering all the while such touching
supplications, such cutting and passionate expressions of woe, as went
to my very heart.
At length, with much difficulty, we passed this most painful
interruption; and, crossing the boundary wall, were placed beyond her
reach. The O'Gradys damned her for a troublesome hag, and passed on
with O'Connor, but I remained behind for a moment. The poor woman looked
hopelessly at the high wall which separated her from him she had loved
from infancy, and to be with whom at that minute she would have given
worlds, she took her seat upon a solitary stone under the opposite wall,
and there, in a low, subdued key, she continued to utter her sorrow in
words so desolate, yet expressing such a tenderness of devotion as wrung
my heart.
'My poor woman,' I said, laying my hand gently upon her shoulder, 'you
will make yourself ill; the morning is very cold, and your cloak is but
a thin defence against the damp and chill. Pray return home and take
this; it may be useful to you.'
So saying, I dropped a purse, with what money I had about me, into her
lap, but it lay there unheeded; she did not hear me.
'Oh I my child, my child, my darlin',' she sobbed, 'are you gone from
me? are you gone from me? Ah, mavourneen, mavourneen, you'll never come
back alive to me again. The crathur that slept on my bosom--the lovin'
crathur that I was so proud of--they'll kill him, they'll kill him. Oh,
voh! voh!'
The affecting tone, the feeling, the abandonment with which all this was
uttered, none can conceive who have not heard the lamentations of the
Irish peasantry. It brought tears to my eyes. I saw that no consolation
of mine could soothe her grief, so I turned and departed; but as I
rapidly traversed the level sward which separated me from my companions,
now considerably in advance, I could still hear the wailings of the
solitary mourner.
As we approached the stand-house, it was evident that our antagonists
had already arrived. Our path lay by the side of a high fence
constructed of loose stones, and on turning a sharp angle at its
extremity, we found ourselves close to the appointed spot, and within
a few yards of a crowd of persons, some mounted and some on foot,
evidently awaiting our arrival. The affair had unaccountably taken wind,
as the number of the expectants clearly showed; but for this there was
now no remedy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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