The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1899-04-30
my dear boy. I'm very sorry"

II got him when he was a mere puppy,
and he never left me since, even for day.
He understood every word 1 said, and yes
terday l struck him-struck him for the first
time in my life. 1 wonder, mother, if twas
that killed him."
mo, my son, he must have died Of some
disease"
He shows no signs of il and I'm sure he
must have thought me ungrateful," the lad
said, turning toward one or the windows, in
the shelter of which ne brushed the tears
from his eyes. Presently he sat down to
breakfast
How was il you came to strike Nero?"
Lady Rosneath inquired.
'Because-because he attacked woman"
her son answered. The question startled
him for it let In a light upon his brain.
Gould ii be-" he asked himself, 1.-The
witch's power that had killed his dog?"
He could eat moth. lg, but feeling thirsty
he drank eagerly enough. He was hot and
feverish, and his head ached BY his orders
his horse was brought round at II o'clock.
but when the hour came he felt too tired
TO ride, and remained indoors. His mother,
anxiously watching him, saw he was unwell
and sent for doctor from the nearest town.
The medical man ordered him to bed, say
q
and had best be kept quiet. That night his
temperature rapidly rose, and next day he
became delirious.
His danger was evident TO ALL and TO his
mother above all others. With aching heart
and tear-scorched eyes, she saw him turn
and bound upon his bed, burning with fever,
and racked with pain whilst she was un-
able to soothe or aid him. The highest
faa1 o,rth crit
moned; they came, saw, prescribed, and de-
parted, leaving little hope behind. 1t seemed
as if no human aid could save him, and the
afflicted mother turned to implore mercy
from One who orders all things. 30 God"
she cried in a passionate appeal, "spare
my boy, spare him, for he is all the world
TO me. He has done no wrong; his heart is
noble and true. Take no vengeance on him
for the sins of his fathers Spare him. o
Lord
This cry, wrung from her soul one night
in the sick chamber, was overheard by the
nurse then on duty an old Irshwoman
named Mamie Gavin, credited with great
SKILL acquired from long experience. With
tears in her honest eyes she approached the
countess and said: Me lady, it's one
remedy there is we haven't tried yet; an
now when everything else has been done for
him lordship. God spare him.
"A remedy" exclaimed the distracted
mother What is it?''
There's wise woman that the people
call witch. who lives just two miles from
the castle door; who afore now has brought
them as was near dead to life
"How?"
q - n
with her night an day."
"A dead hand? repeated the countess,
shuddering as she spoke.
Its true me lady. I've seen it meself do
wonders. There was Micky Forristal, who
was down with the fever. an given over be
priest an doctor; but no sooner was the
dead hand laid on his chest than he began
to recover, an was about the house in a
week. An sure when Pat Feenney's son
broke his leg, the doctors said he'd never
walk agin, but sure 70 sooner was the dead
hand laid on the broken bone ITSELF than
it began to heal, an the child runs about
as we'll as the rest of them now.'
THAT is all superstition, Mamie. don't
believe this woman can do any good" an
swered Lady Rosneath.
Then sure she can't do any harm, an
maybe it's save his Iordship she would.
Don't be headstrong, me lady, Begin your
pardon
The countess had heard much of strange
cures made at sacred shrines and in the
wards of French hospitals. Rumors Of the
wonders wrought by mesmerism, electricity,
spiritism, had reached her. They had pre-
disposed her to the marvellous; they now
excited her hope that what she most de-
sired in life might be accomplished-the re-
storation of her son.
''Try her. me lady, an no one need know
it's here she's been,'' urged Mamie. Sure,
I'll fetch her meself this blessed night if
you'll only say the word. Who knows but
she might cure him entirely?"
"Then bring her." replied the wretched
mother, who was willing to have recourse
to any remedy that would save the life she
| loved
Toward midnight Mamie Gavin left Ros-
meath Castle by a private door in search
of the Witch Of Ballyculagh. Scudding
| clouds obscured the light of the stars, the
world was dark, but the woman knew the
winding pathway that branched from the
| main road straight across the bleak black
moors. until it ended at high ditch against
| which was perched a mud-walled cabin.
This habitaiOn, standing in the midst Of
! the moors, miles removed from any human
| dwelling and unsheItered by tree or shrub,
| seemed drear silent and desoate as a grave.
| The thatch was rotting, one of the gable
walls was supported by stout beam, the
| door was closed and from window the
| left came a stream of red light that from a
far distance had guided Mamie in her
| course
AT first seeing it she had crossed herself
| and muttered a prayer, and now, she
| stood without, she could not restrain herself
| from staring through the window before
! knocking. There, by a glowing fire of peat,
sat the Witch of Ballyculagh, the ruddy
| light shining On her yellow, wrinkled face
| and rejecting itself luridly in her great
| gray eyes. She was talking TO herself,
though the woman watching outside could
| not hear the words
LAY, 1 loved him sure, with all me heart;
gave me sowl for his love-" she said in a
| low, whispering voice. Il bore him a son
| a handsome lad like himself, not pale and
fair like the Englishwoman's brat that bears
his name. He swore he loved me, but he
! lied; he swore he'd not forsake me, come
/ what would, but twas false. I'd not have
! minded him marrying the Englishwomaa,
| but he forsook me for her who could never