A Chapter in the History of a Tyrone Family Page #2

"A Chapter in the History of a Tyrone Family" is a novella by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu, first published in 1863. The story is set in the Irish countryside and explores themes of family legacy, memory, and the supernatural. It follows the experiences of the narrator as he uncovers the haunting past of a noble family in County Tyrone. The narrative intertwines elements of gothic horror with social commentary, vividly capturing the eerie atmosphere of the Irish landscape and the darker aspects of familial history. Through its rich storytelling and psychological depth, the work reflects Le Fanu's mastery of the gothic genre.

• Horror
• Novel
• Short story

								


We all stood for a few moments breathlessly listening. On thundered the
vehicle with the speed of a whirlwind; crack went the whip, and clatter
went the wheels, as it rattled over the uneven pavement of the court.
A general and furious barking from all the dogs about the house, hailed
its arrival.

We hurried to the hall in time to hear the steps let down with the sharp
clanging noise peculiar to the operation, and the hum of voices exerted
in the bustle of arrival. The hall-door was now thrown open, and we all
stepped forth to greet our visitors.

The court was perfectly empty; the moon was shining broadly and brightly
upon all around; nothing was to be seen but the tall trees with their
long spectral shadows, now wet with the dews of midnight.

We stood gazing from right to left, as if suddenly awakened from a
dream; the dogs walked suspiciously, growling and snuffing about the
court, and by totally and suddenly ceasing their former loud barking,
expressing the predominance of fear.

We stared one upon another in perplexity and dismay, and I think I never
beheld more pale faces assembled. By my father's direction, we looked
about to find anything which might indicate or account for the noise
which we had heard; but no such thing was to be seen--even the mire
which lay upon the avenue was undisturbed. We returned to the house,
more panic-struck than I can describe.

On the next day, we learned by a messenger, who had ridden hard the
greater part of the night, that my sister was dead. On Sunday evening,
she had retired to bed rather unwell, and, on Monday, her indisposition
declared itself unequivocally to be malignant fever. She became hourly
worse and, on Tuesday night, a little after midnight, she expired.(2)

     (2) The residuary legatee of the late Frances Purcell, who
     has the honour of selecting such of his lamented old
     friend's manuscripts as may appear fit for publication, in
     order that the lore which they contain may reach the world
     before scepticism and utility have robbed our species of the
     precious gift of credulity, and scornfully kicked before
     them, or trampled into annihilation those harmless fragments
     of picturesque superstition which it is our object to
     preserve, has been subjected to the charge of dealing too
     largely in the marvellous; and it has been half insinuated
     that such is his love for diablerie, that he is content to
     wander a mile out of his way, in order to meet a fiend or a
     goblin, and thus to sacrifice all regard for truth and
     accuracy to the idle hope of affrighting the imagination,
     and thus pandering to the bad taste of his reader. He begs
     leave, then, to take this opportunity of asserting his
     perfect innocence of all the crimes laid to his charge, and
     to assure his reader that he never PANDERED TO HIS BAD
     TASTE, nor went one inch out of his way to introduce witch,
     fairy, devil, ghost, or any other of the grim fraternity of
     the redoubted Raw-head-and-bloody-bones. His province,
     touching these tales, has been attended with no difficulty
     and little responsibility; indeed, he is accountable for
     nothing more than an alteration in the names of persons
     mentioned therein, when such a step seemed necessary, and
     for an occasional note, whenever he conceived it possible,
     innocently, to edge in a word. These tales have been WRITTEN
     DOWN, as the heading of each announces, by the Rev. Francis
     Purcell, P.P., of Drumcoolagh; and in all the instances,
     which are many, in which the present writer has had an
     opportunity of comparing the manuscript of his departed
     friend with the actual traditions which are current amongst
     the families whose fortunes they pretend to illustrate, he
     has uniformly found that whatever of supernatural occurred
     in the story, so far from having been exaggerated by him,
     had been rather softened down, and, wherever it could be
     attempted, accounted for.

I mention this circumstance, because it was one upon which a thousand
wild and fantastical reports were founded, though one would have thought
that the truth scarcely required to be improved upon; and again, because
it produced a strong and lasting effect upon my spirits, and indeed, I
am inclined to think, upon my character.

I was, for several years after this occurrence, long after the violence
of my grief subsided, so wretchedly low-spirited and nervous, that
I could scarcely be said to live; and during this time, habits of
indecision, arising out of a listless acquiescence in the will of
others, a fear of encountering even the slightest opposition, and a
disposition to shrink from what are commonly called amusements, grew
upon me so strongly, that I have scarcely even yet altogether overcome
them.

We saw nothing more of Mr. Carew. He returned to England as soon as the
melancholy rites attendant upon the event which I have just mentioned
were performed; and not being altogether inconsolable, he married again
within two years; after which, owing to the remoteness of our relative
situations, and other circumstances, we gradually lost sight of him.

I was now an only child; and, as my elder sister had died without issue,
it was evident that, in the ordinary course of things, my father's
property, which was altogether in his power, would go to me; and the
consequence was, that before I was fourteen, Ashtown House was besieged
by a host of suitors. However, whether it was that I was too young, or
that none of the aspirants to my hand stood sufficiently high in rank or
wealth, I was suffered by both parents to do exactly as I pleased;
and well was it for me, as I afterwards found, that fortune, or rather
Providence, had so ordained it, that I had not suffered my affections
to become in any degree engaged, for my mother would never have
suffered any SILLY FANCY of mine, as she was in the habit of styling an
attachment, to stand in the way of her ambitious views--views which she
was determined to carry into effect, in defiance of every obstacle, and
in order to accomplish which she would not have hesitated to sacrifice
anything so unreasonable and contemptible as a girlish passion.

When I reached the age of sixteen, my mother's plans began to develop
themselves; and, at her suggestion, we moved to Dublin to sojourn for
the winter, in order that no time might be lost in disposing of me to
the best advantage.

I had been too long accustomed to consider myself as of no importance
whatever, to believe for a moment that I was in reality the cause of all
the bustle and preparation which surrounded me, and being thus relieved
from the pain which a consciousness of my real situation would have
inflicted, I journeyed towards the capital with a feeling of total
indifference.

My father's wealth and connection had established him in the best

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