The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector Part 4

"Why, sir," replied the man, "she tuck possession of a waste cabin and a bit o' garden belongin' to it; and Larry Sullivan, that owns it, was goin' to put her out, when, Lord save us, he and his whole family were saized with sickness, and then he sent word to her that if she'd take it off o' them and put it on some one else he'd let her stay."

"And did she do so?"

"She did, sir; every one o' them recovered, and she put it on his neighbor, poor Harry Commiskey and his family, that used to visit them every day, and from them it went over the country--and bad luck to her!

Devil a man of us would have had luck or grace in the fair to-day if we had met her. That's another gift she has--to bring bad luck to any one that meets her first in the mornin'; for if they're goin' upon any business it's sure not to thrive with them. She's worse than Mrs.

Lindsay; for Mrs. Lindsay, although she's unlucky to meet, and unlucky to cattle, too, has no power over any one's life; but they say it has always been in her family, too."

The equestrians then proceeded at a rather brisk pace until they had got clear of the peasants, when they pulled up a little.

"That is a strange superst.i.tion, sir," said Woodward, musingly.

"It is a very common one in this country, at all events," replied the other; "and I believe pretty general in others as well as here."

"Do you place any faith in it?" asked the other.

The stranger paused, as if investigating the subject in question, after which he replied,

"To a certain extent I do; but it is upon this principle, that I believe the force of imagination on a weak mind const.i.tutes the malady. What is your own opinion?"

"Why, that it is not a superst.i.tion but a fact; a fact, too, which has been frequently proved; and, what is more, it is known, as the man said, to be hereditary in families."

"I don't give credence to that," said the stranger.

"Why not, sir?" replied Woodward; "are not the moral qualities hereditary? are not the tempers and dispositions hereditary, as well as decline, insanity, scrofula, and other physical complaints?"

The stranger paused again, and said, "Perhaps so. There is certainly much mystery in human nature; more, probably, than we can conceive or be aware of. Time, however, and the progress of science, will develop much.

But who was this Mrs. Lindsay that the man spoke of?"

"That lady, sir," replied the other, "is my mother."

The stranger, from a feeling of delicacy, made no observation upon this, but proceeded to take another view of the same subject.

"Suppose, then," he added, "that we admit the fact that the eye of a certain individual can transfuse, by the force of strong volition, an evil influence into the being or bodily system of another--why should it happen that an eye or touch charged with beneficence, instead of evil, should fail to affect with a sanative contagion those who labor under many diseases?"

"The only reply I can make to your question," said Woodward, "is this: the one has been long and generally known to exist, whereas the latter has never been heard of, which most a.s.suredly would not have been the case if it had ever existed; as for the cure of the King's Evil it is a royal imposture."

"I believe in the latter," observed the other calmly.

"Upon what grounds?" asked his companion.

"Simply because I know a person who possesses the sanative power I speak of."

"And I believe in the former," replied Woodward, "and upon better grounds still, because I possess it myself."

"You will pardon me," said the other; "but I hesitate to believe that."

Woodward, who felt this imputation against his veracity with resentment, suddenly pulled up his horse, and, turning himself on the saddle, looked upon his companion with an expression that was as extraordinary as it was blighting. The stranger, on the other hand, reining in his horse, and taking exactly the same att.i.tude as Woodward, bent his eye on him in return; and there they sat opposite to each other, where we will leave them until we describe the somewhat extraordinary man who had become the fellow-traveller of the hero of the breakfast table.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 631-- The gaze was long and combative]

He was mounted upon a powerful charger; for indeed it was evident at a glance that no other would have been equal to his weight. He was well-dressed--that is to say, in the garb of a country gentleman of the day. He wore his own hair, however, which fell in long ma.s.ses over his shoulders, and a falling collar, which came down over his breast. His person was robust and healthy looking, and, what is not very usual in large men, it was remarkable for the most consummate proportion and symmetry. He wore boots and silver spurs, and his feet were unusually small, considering his size, as were also his hands. That, however, which struck the beholder with amazement, was the manly beauty of his features. At a first glance this was visible; but on contemplating them more closely you began to feel something strange and wonderful a.s.sociated with a feeling of veneration and pleasure. Even this, however, was comparatively little to what a still more deliberate perusal of that face brought to light. There could be read that extraordinary union of humility and grandeur; but above all, and beyond all other expressions, there proceeded from his eyes, and radiated like a halo from every part of his countenance, a sense of power which was felt to be irresistible. His eyes, indeed, were almost transparent with light--a light so clear, benignant, and strong, that it was impossible to withstand their glance, radiant with benevolence though it was. The surrender to that glance, however, was a willing and a pleasing one. The spectator submitted to it as an individual would to the eye of a blessed spirit that was known to communicate nothing but good. There, then, they sat contemplating one another, each, as it were, in the exercise of some particular power, which, in this case, appeared to depend altogether on the expressions of the eye. The gaze was long and combative in its character, and const.i.tuted a trial of that moral strength which each, in the peculiar const.i.tution of his being, seemed to possess. After some time, however, Woodward's glance seemed to lose its concentrative power, and gradually to become vague and blank. In a little time he felt himself rapidly losing ground, and could hardly avoid thinking that the eyes of his opponent were looking into his very soul: his eyelids quivered, his eyes a.s.sumed a dull and listless appearance, and ultimately closed for some moments--he was vanquished, and he felt it.

"What is the matter with you?" said his companion at length, "and why did you look at me with such a singular gaze? I hope you do not feel resentment at what I said. I hesitated to believe you only because I thought you might be mistaken.".

"I entertain no resentment against you," replied Woodward; "but I must confess I feel astonished. Pray, allow me to ask, sir, are you a medical man?"

"Not at all," replied the other; "I never received a medical education, and yet I perform a great number of cures."

"Then, sir," said Woodward, "I take it, with every respect, that you must be a quack."

"Did you ever know a quack to work a cure without medicine?" replied the other; "I cure without medicine, and that is more than the quack is able to do with it; I consequently, cannot be a quack."

"Then, in the devil's name, what are you?" asked Woodward, who felt that his extraordinary fellow-traveller was amusing himself at his expense.

"I reply to no interrogatory urged upon such authority," said the stranger; "but let me advise you, young man, not to allow that mysterious and malignant power which you seem to possess to gratify itself by injury to your fellow-creatures. Let it be the princ.i.p.al purpose of your life to serve them by every means within your reach, otherwise you will neglect to your cost those great duties for which G.o.d created you. Farewell, my friend, and remember my words; for they are uttered in a spirit of kindness and good feeling."

They had now arrived at cross-roads; the stranger turned to the right, and Woodward proceeded, as directed, toward Rathfillan House, the residence of his father.

The building was a tolerably large and comfortable one, without any pretence to architectural beauty. It had a plain porch before the hall-door, with a neat lawn, through which wound a pretty drive up to the house. On each side of the lawn was a semicircle of fine old trees, that gave an ancient appearance to the whole place.

Now, one might imagine that Woodward would have felt his heart bound with affection and delight on his return to all that ought to have been dear to him after so long an absence. So far from that, however, he returned in disappointment and ill-temper, for he calculated that unless there had been some indefensible neglect, or unjustifiable offence offered to his uncle Hamilton by his family, that gentleman, who, he knew, had the character of being both affectionate and good-natured, would never have left his property to a stranger. The alienation of this property from himself was, indeed, the bitter reflection which rankled in his heart, and established in it a hatred against the Goodwins which he resolved by some means to wreak upon them in a spirit of the blackest vengeance. Independently of this, we feel it necessary to say here, that he was utterly devoid of domestic affection, and altogether insensible to the natural claims and feelings of consanguinity. His uncle abroad, for instance, had frequently urged him to pay a visit to his relatives, and, of course, to supply him liberally with the necessary funds for the journey. To every such suggestion, however, he gave a decided negative.

"If they wish to see me," he would reply, "let them come and see me: as for me, I have no wish to see them, and I shall not go."

This unnatural indifference to the claims of blood and affection, not only startled his uncle, but shook his confidence in the honor and integrity of his favorite. Some further discoveries of his dishonesty ultimately led to his expulsion from the heart of that kind relative, as well as from the hospitable roof of which he proved himself so unworthy.

With such a natural disposition, and affected as he must have been by a train of circ.u.mstances so decidedly adverse to his hopes and prospects, our readers need not feel surprised that he should return home in anything but an agreeable mood of mind.

CHAPTER IV.

Woodward meets a Guide--His Reception at Home--Preparations for a Fete.

Woodward rode slowly, as he indulged in those disagreeable reflections to which we alluded, until he reached a second crossroads, where he found himself somewhat at a loss whether to turn or ride straight onward. While pausing for a moment, as to which way he should take, the mellow whistle of some person behind him indulging in a light-hearted Irish air, caused him to look back, when he saw a well-made, compact, good-looking young fellow approaching, who, finding his attention evidently directed to him, concluded his melody and respectfully touched hia hat."

"Pray, my good friend," said Woodward, "can you direct me to Rathfillan, the residence of Mr. Lindsay, the magistrate?"

"Misther Lindsay's, is it?"

"Yes; I said so."

"Well, I think I can, sir."

"Yes; but are you sure of it?"

"Well, I think I am, sir."