The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector. William Carleton

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 principal 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 God 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 circumstances 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

       Table of Contents

—His Reception at Home—Preparations for a Fete.

       Table of Contents

      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.”

      “You think! why, d—n it, sir, do you not know whether you are or not?”

      “May I ax, sir,” inquired the other in his turn, “if you are a religious character?”

      “WHy, what the devil has that to do with the matter in question?” said Woodward, beginning to lose his temper. “I ask you to direct me to the residence of a certain gentleman, and you ask me whether I am a religious character? What do you mean by that?”

      “Why, sir,” replied the man, “not much, I'm afeard—only if you had let me speak, which you didn't, God pardon you, I was going to say, that if you knew the way to heaven as well as I do to Misther Lindsay's you might call yourself a happy man, and born to luck.”

      Woodward looked with something of curiosity at his new companion, and was a good deal struck with his appearance. His age might be about twenty-eight or from that to thirty; his figure stout and well-made; his features were decidedly Milesian, but then they were Milesian of the best character; his mouth was firm, but his lips full, red, and handsome; his clear, merry eyes would puzzle one to determine whether they were gray or blue, so equally were the two colors blended in them. After a very brief conversation with him, no one could doubt that humor formed a predominant trait in his disposition. In fact, the spirit of the forthcoming jest was visible in his countenance before the jest itself came forth; but although his whole features bore a careless and buoyant expression, yet there was no mistaking in them the unquestionable evidences of great shrewdness and good sense. He also indulged occasionally in an ironical and comic sarcasm, which, however, was never directed against his friends; this he reserved for certain individuals whose character entitled them to it at his hands. He also drew the long-bow, when he wished, with great skill and effect. Woodward, after having scrutinized his countenance for some time, was about to make some inquiries, as a stranger, concerning his family and the reputation they bore in the neighborhood, when he found himself, considerably to his surprise, placed in the witness-box for a rather brisk fire of cross-examination.

      “You are no stranger in this part of the country, I presume” said he, with a view of bringing him out for his own covert and somewhat ungenerous purposes.

      “I am no stranger, sure enough, sir,” replied the other, “so far as a good slice of the counthry side goes; but if I am not you are, sir, or I'm out in it.”

      “Yes, I am a stranger here.”

      “Never mind, sir, don't let that disthress you; it's a good, man's case, sir. Did you thravel far, wid submission? I spake in kindness, sir.”

      “Why, yes, a—a—pretty good distance; but about Mr. Lindsay and—”

      “Yes, sir; crossed over, sir, I suppose? I mane from the other side?”

      “O! you want to know if I crossed the Channel?”

      “Had you a pleasant passage, sir?”

      “Yes, tolerable.”

      “Thank God! I hope you'll make a long stay with us, sir, in this part of the counthry. If you have any business to do with Mr. Lindsay—as of coorse you have—why, I don't think you and he will quarrel; and by the way, sir, I know him and the family well, and if I only got a glimpse, I could throw in a word or two