The Purcell Papers — Volume 1Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
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The Purcell Papers — Volume 1
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Fantasy fiction, English; Ireland -- Fiction
Another suggested the expediency of his being removed homeward with as
little delay as possible, and recommended, for this purpose, that a
door should be removed from its hinges, and the patient, laid upon this,
should be conveyed from the field. Upon this rude bier my poor friend
was carried from that fatal ground towards Castle Connor. I walked close
by his side, and observed every motion of his. He seldom opened his
eyes, and was perfectly still, excepting a nervous WORKING of the
fingers, and a slight, almost imperceptible twitching of the features,
which took place, however, only at intervals. The first word he uttered
was spoken as we approached the entrance of the castle itself, when
he said; repeatedly, 'The back way, the back way.' He feared lest his
mother should meet him abruptly and without preparation; but although
this fear was groundless, since she never left her room until late
in the day, yet it was thought advisable, and, indeed, necessary, to
caution all the servants most strongly against breathing a hint to their
mistress of the events which had befallen.
Two or three gentlemen had ridden from the field one after another,
promising that they should overtake our party before it reached the
castle, bringing with them medical aid from one quarter or another;
and we determined that Mrs. O'Connor should not know anything of the
occurrence until the opinion of some professional man should have
determined the extent of the injury which her son had sustained--a
course of conduct which would at least have the effect of relieving her
from the horrors of suspense. When O'Connor found himself in his own
room, and laid upon his own bed, he appeared much revived--so much so,
that I could not help admitting a strong hope that all might yet be
well.
'After all, Purcell,' said he, with a melancholy smile, and speaking
with evident difficulty, 'I believe I have got off with a trifling
wound. I am sure it cannot be fatal I feel so little pain--almost none.'
I cautioned him against fatiguing himself by endeavouring to speak; and
he remained quiet for a little time. At length he said:
'Purcell, I trust this lesson shall not have been given in vain. God has
been very merciful to me; I feel--I have an internal confidence that I
am not wounded mortally. Had I been fatally wounded--had I been killed
upon the spot, only think on it'--and he closed his eyes as if the very
thought made him dizzy--'struck down into the grave, unprepared as I
am, in the very blossom of my sins, without a moment of repentance or of
reflection; I must have been lost--lost for ever and ever.'
I prevailed upon him, with some difficulty, to abstain from such
agitating reflections, and at length induced him to court such repose as
his condition admitted of, by remaining perfectly silent, and as much as
possible without motion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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