Two Ghostly Mysteries: A Chapter in the History of a Tyrone Family; and the Murdered CousinLe Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
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Two Ghostly Mysteries: A Chapter in the History of a Tyrone Family; and the Murdered Cousin
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Ghost stories; Ireland -- Fiction
He raised his eyes, and remained for a few moments silent, as if
in secret prayer. I felt that it was impossible that this man, with
feelings manifestly so tender, could be the wretch that public opinion
had represented him to be. I was more than ever convinced of his
innocence. His manners were, or appeared to me, most fascinating.
I know not how the lights of experience might have altered this
estimate. But I was then very young, and I beheld in him a perfect
mingling of the courtesy of polished life with the gentlest and
most genial virtues of the heart. A feeling of affection and respect
towards him began to spring up within me, the more earnest that I
remembered how sorely he had suffered in fortune and how cruelly in
fame. My uncle having given me fully to understand that I was most
welcome, and might command whatever was his own, pressed me to take
some supper; and on my refusing, he observed that, before bidding me
good night, he had one duty further to perform, one in which he was
convinced I would cheerfully acquiesce. He then proceeded to read a
chapter from the Bible; after which he took his leave with the same
affectionate kindness with which he had greeted me, having repeated
his desire that I should consider every thing in his house as
altogether at my disposal. It is needless to say how much I was
pleased with my uncle--it was impossible to avoid being so; and I
could not help saying to myself, if such a man as this is not safe
from the assaults of slander, who is? I felt much happier than I
had done since my father's death, and enjoyed that night the first
refreshing sleep which had visited me since that calamity. My
curiosity respecting my male cousin did not long remain unsatisfied;
he appeared upon the next day at dinner. His manners, though not so
coarse as I had expected, were exceedingly disagreeable; there was an
assurance and a forwardness for which I was not prepared; there was
less of the vulgarity of manner, and almost more of that of the mind,
than I had anticipated. I felt quite uncomfortable in his presence;
there was just that confidence in his look and tone, which would read
encouragement even in mere toleration; and I felt more disgusted and
annoyed at the coarse and extravagant compliments which he was pleased
from time to time to pay me, than perhaps the extent of the atrocity
might fully have warranted. It was, however, one consolation that he
did not often appear, being much engrossed by pursuits about which
I neither knew nor cared anything; but when he did, his attentions,
either with a view to his amusement, or to some more serious object,
were so obviously and perseveringly directed to me, that young and
inexperienced as I was, even _I_ could not be ignorant of their
significance. I felt more provoked by this odious persecution than I
can express, and discouraged him with so much vigour, that I did
not stop even at rudeness to convince him that his assiduities were
unwelcome; but all in vain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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