Stories
& Legends of Ireland
THE
BEWITCHED BUTTER, pt. 2
Affairs
continued in this plight, when one very sultry evening in the latter
days of July, Bryan Costigan's wife was sitting at her own door, spinning
at her wheel, in a very gloomy and agitated state of mind. Happening
to look down the narrow green lane which led from the high road to her
cabin, she espied a little old woman barefoot, and enveloped in an old
scarlet cloak, approaching slowly, with the aid of a crutch which she
carried in one hand, and a cane or walking-stick in the other. The farmer's
wife felt glad at seeing the odd-looking stranger; she smiled, and yet
she knew not why, as she neared the house. A vague and indefinable feeling
of pleasure crowded on her imagination; and, as the old woman gained
the threshold, she bade her "welcome" with a warmth which
plainly told that her lips gave utterance but to the genuine feelings
of her heart.
"God
bless this good house and all belonging to it," said the stranger,
as she entered.
"God save you kindly, and you are welcome, whoever you are,"
replied Mrs. Costigan.
"Hem, I thought so," said the old woman with a significant
grin. "I thought so, or 1 wouldn't trouble you."
The farmer's
wife ran, and placed a chair near the fire for the stranger; but she
refused, and sat on the ground near where Mrs. Costigan had been spinning.
Mrs. Costigan had now time to survey the old hag's person minutely.
She appeared of great age; her countenance was extremely ugly and repulsive;
her skin was rough and deeply embrowned as if from long exposure to
the effects of some tropical climate; her forehead was low, narrow,
and, indented with a thousand wrinkles; her long grey hair fell in matted
elflocks from beneath a white linen skullcap; her eyes were bleared,
bloodshotten, and obliquely set in their sockets, and her voice was
croaking, tremulous, and, at times, partially inarticulate. As she squatted
on the floor, she looked around the house with an inquisitive gaze;
she peered pryingly from corner to corner, with an earnestness of look,
as if she had the faculty, like the Argonaut of old, to see through
the very depths of the earth, whilst Mrs. Costigan kept watching her
motions with mingled feelings, curiosity, awe, and pleasure.
"Mrs,"
said the old woman, at length breaking silence, "I am dry with
the heat of the day, can you give me a drink?"
"Alas!'" replied the farmer's wife, I have no drink to offer
you except water, else you would have no occasion to ask me for it."
"Are you not the owner of the cattle I see yonder?" said the
old hag, with a tone of voice and manner of gesticulation which plainly
indicated her fore-knowledge of the fact. Mrs. Costigan replied in the
affirmative, and briefly related to her every circumstance connected
with the affair, whilst the old woman still remained silent, but shook
her grey head repeatedly; and still continued gazing round the house
with an air of importance and self-sufficiency.
