The Bridal of Carrigvarah

"The Bridal of Carrigvarah" is a gothic tale by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu, first published in 1850. Set against the haunting backdrop of Ireland, the story follows a young man, Gerald, who becomes enamored with the elusive beauty of a mysterious bride associated with the ancestral home of Carrigvarah. As he delves into the legends surrounding the estate, he encounters themes of love, loss, and the supernatural. Le Fanu masterfully weaves a narrative that explores the intersections of fate and desire, while encapsulating the eerie atmosphere characteristic of his writing. The novella combines romantic intrigue with gothic elements, making it a compelling read for fans of classic literature and haunting tales.

• Fiction

								
Being a Sixth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis Purcell, P. P.
of Drumcoolagh.

In a sequestered district of the county of Limerick, there stood my
early life, some forty years ago, one of those strong stone buildings,
half castle, half farm-house, which are not unfrequent in the South of
Ireland, and whose solid masonry and massive construction seem to prove
at once the insecurity and the caution of the Cromwellite settlers who
erected them. At the time of which I speak, this building was tenanted
by an elderly man, whose starch and puritanic mien and manners might
have become the morose preaching parliamentarian captain, who had raised
the house and ruled the household more than a hundred years before;
but this man, though Protestant by descent as by name, was not so in
religion; he was a strict, and in outward observances, an exemplary
Catholic; his father had returned in early youth to the true faith, and
died in the bosom of the church.

Martin Heathcote was, at the time of which I speak, a widower, but his
house-keeping was not on that account altogether solitary, for he had a
daughter, whose age was now sufficiently advanced to warrant her father
in imposing upon her the grave duties of domestic superintendence.

This little establishment was perfectly isolated, and very little
intruded upon by acts of neighbourhood; for the rank of its occupants
was of that equivocal kind which precludes all familiar association
with those of a decidedly inferior rank, while it is not sufficient to
entitle its possessors to the society of established gentility, among
whom the nearest residents were the O'Maras of Carrigvarah, whose
mansion-house, constructed out of the ruins of an old abbey, whose
towers and cloisters had been levelled by the shot of Cromwell's
artillery, stood not half a mile lower upon the river banks.

Colonel O'Mara, the possessor of the estates, was then in a declining
state of health, and absent with his lady from the country, leaving at
the castle, his son young O'Mara, and a kind of humble companion, named
Edward Dwyer, who, if report belied him not, had done in his early days
some PECULIAR SERVICES for the Colonel, who had been a gay man--perhaps
worse--but enough of recapitulation.

It was in the autumn of the year 17-- that the events which led to the
catastrophe which I have to detail occurred. I shall run through the
said recital as briefly as clearness will permit, and leave you to
moralise, if such be your mood, upon the story of real life, which I
even now trace at this distant period not without emotion.

It was upon a beautiful autumn evening, at that glad period of the
season when the harvest yields its abundance, that two figures were seen
sauntering along the banks of the winding river, which I described as
bounding the farm occupied by Heathcote; they had been, as the rods
and landing-nets which they listlessly carried went to show, plying the
gentle, but in this case not altogether solitary craft of the fisherman.
One of those persons was a tall and singularly handsome young man, whose
dark hair and complexion might almost have belonged to a Spaniard,
as might also the proud but melancholy expression which gave to his
countenance a character which contrasts sadly, but not uninterestingly,
with extreme youth; his air, as he spoke with his companion, was marked
by that careless familiarity which denotes a conscious superiority of
one kind or other, or which may be construed into a species of contempt;
his comrade afforded to him in every respect a striking contrast. He
was rather low in stature--a defect which was enhanced by a broad and
square-built figure--his face was sallow, and his features had
that prominence and sharpness which frequently accompany personal
deformity--a remarkably wide mouth, with teeth white as the fangs of a
wolf, and a pair of quick, dark eyes, whose effect was heightened by the
shadow of a heavy black brow, gave to his face a power of expression,
particularly when sarcastic or malignant emotions were to be exhibited,
which features regularly handsome could scarcely have possessed.

'Well, sir,' said the latter personage, 'I have lived in hall and abbey,
town and country, here and abroad for forty years and more, and should
know a thing or two, and as I am a living man, I swear I think the girl
loves you.'

'You are a fool, Ned,' said the younger.

'I may be a fool,' replied the first speaker, 'in matters where my own
advantage is staked, but my eye is keen enough to see through the flimsy
disguise of a country damsel at a glance; and I tell you, as surely as I
hold this rod, the girl loves you.'

'Oh I this is downright headstrong folly,' replied the young fisherman.
'Why, Ned, you try to persuade me against my reason, that the event
which is most to be deprecated has actually occurred. She is, no doubt,
a pretty girl--a beautiful girl--but I have not lost my heart to her;
and why should I wish her to be in love with me? Tush, man, the days of
romance are gone, and a young gentleman may talk, and walk, and laugh
with a pretty country maiden, and never breathe aspirations, or vows,
or sighs about the matter; unequal matches are much oftener read of than
made, and the man who could, even in thought, conceive a wish against
the honour of an unsuspecting, artless girl, is a villain, for whom
hanging is too good.'

This concluding sentence was uttered with an animation and excitement,
which the mere announcement of an abstract moral sentiment could hardly
account for.

'You are, then, indifferent, honestly and in sober earnest, indifferent
to the girl?' inquired Dwyer.

'Altogether so,' was the reply.

'Then I have a request to make,' continued Dwyer, 'and I may as well
urge it now as at any other time. I have been for nearly twenty years
the faithful, and by no means useless, servant of your family; you know
that I have rendered your father critical and important services----' he
paused, and added hastily: 'you are not in the mood--I tire you, sir.'

'Nay,' cried O'Mara, 'I listen patiently--proceed.'

'For all these services, and they were not, as I have said, few or
valueless, I have received little more reward than liberal promises;
you have told me often that this should be mended--I'll make it easily
done--I'm not unreasonable--I should be contented to hold Heathcote's
ground, along with this small farm on which we stand, as full quittance
of all obligations and promises between us.'

'But how the devil can I effect that for you; this farm, it is true, I,
or my father, rather, may lease to you, but Heathcote's title we cannot
impugn; and even if we could, you would not expect us to ruin an honest
man, in order to make way for YOU, Ned.'

'What I am,' replied Dwyer, with the calmness of one who is so
accustomed to contemptuous insinuations as to receive them with perfect
indifference, 'is to be attributed to my devotedness to your honourable
family--but that is neither here nor there. I do not ask you to displace

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