As he was still gazing at her with the most profound pity and admiration, his attention was suddenly directed, by an odd scratching sound, to the window, where he saw, pressed against the glass, and looking straight in at him, a face which in every detail presented the most startling contrast to that upon which his eyes had, but a second ago, been feasting. It was so evil that he felt sure it could only emanate from the lowest Inferno, and it leered at him with such appalling malignancy that, brave man as he had proved himself on the field of battle, he now completely lost his nerve, and would have called out, had not both figures suddenly vanished, their disappearance being immediately followed by the most agonising, heart-rending screams, intermingled with loud laughter and diabolical chuckling, which, for the moment, completely paralysed him. The screams continued for some seconds, during which time every atom of blood in Ralph’s veins seemed to freeze, and then there was silence—deep and sepulchral silence. Afraid to be any longer in the dark, Ralph jumped out of bed and lit the candle, and, as he did so, he distinctly heard footsteps move hurriedly away from the door and go stealthily tiptoeing down the passage.
As may be imagined, he did not sleep again for some time, not, indeed, until daylight, when he gradually fell into a doze, from which he was eventually aroused by loud thumps on the door, and the voice of the pretty inn maiden announcing that it was time to get up.
After breakfast he narrated his experience in the night to O’Flanagan, who, somewhat to his astonishment, did not laugh, but exclaimed quite seriously:
“Why, you have seen our Banshee. At least, the girl in green is our Banshee. I saw her before the death of a cousin of mine, and she appeared to my mother the night before my father died. I don’t know what the other apparition could have been, unless it was what my father used to term the ‘hateful Banshee,’ which he said was only supposed to appear before some very dreadful catastrophe, worse even than death, if anything could be worse.”
“You haven’t the monopoly of Banshees,” Ralph laughed. “We have one too, and I am positive the woman I saw—the beautiful woman I mean—was the O’Donnell Banshee. I would have you know that the Limerick O’Donnells, with whom I am connected, are quite as old a family as the O’Flanagans; they are, indeed, directly descended from Niall of the Nine Hostages.”
“So are we,” O’Flanagan answered hotly, then he burst out laughing. “Well, well,” he said, “fancy quarrelling about anything as immaterial as a Banshee. But, anyhow, if they were Banshees that you saw last night, they’re a bit out in their calculations. They should have come before that skirmish, not after it; unless it’s the death of some relative of one of us they’re prophesying. I hope it’s not my sister.”
“I don’t imagine it has anything to do with you,” Ralph replied. “They were both looking at me.”
He was about to say something further, when O’Flanagan, seeing the young girl come into the room to clear away the breakfast things, at once began talking to her; and as it was only too evident that he wanted the field to himself, for he was obviously head over ears in love, Ralph got up and announced his intention of taking a walk round the premises.
“Don’t go in the wood, Señor, whatever you do,” the girl observed, “for it is infested with brigands. They do not interfere with us because we were once good to one of their sick folk—and the Spaniard, brigand though he may be, never forgets a kindness—but they attack strangers, and you will be well advised to keep to the high road.”
“Which is the nearest town?” Ralph demanded.