Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Safe!
Oh! say that word again."
"Yes,
safe; not once or twice will the vampyre's attack have sufficient influence on
your mortal frame, as to induce a susceptibility on your part to become
coexistent with such as he. The attacks must be often repeated, and the
termination of mortal existence must be a consequence essential, and direct
from those attacks, before such a result may be anticipated."
"Yes,
yes; I understand."
"If
you were to continue my victim from year to year, the energies of life would
slowly waste away, and, till like some faint taper's gleam, consuming more
sustenance than it received, the veriest accident would extinguish your
existence, and then, Flora Bannerworth, you might become a vampyre."
"Oh!
horrible! most horrible!"
"If
by chance, or by design, the least glimpse of the cold moonbeams rested on your
apparently lifeless remains, you would rise again and be one of us—a terror to
yourself and a desolation to all around."
"Oh!
I will fly from here," said Flora. "The hope of escape from so
terrific and dreadful a doom shall urge me onward; if flight can save me—flight
from Bannerworth Hall, I will pause not until continents and oceans divide
us."
"It
is well. I'm able now thus calmly to reason with you. A few short months more
and I shall feel the languor of death creeping over me, and then will come that
mad excitement of the brain, which, were you hidden behind triple doors of
steel, would tempt me again to seek your chamber—again to seize you in my full
embrace—again to draw from your veins the means of prolonged life—again to
convulse your very soul with terror."
"I
need no incentives," said Flora, with a shudder, "in the shape of
descriptions of the past, to urge me on."
"You
will fly from Bannerworth Hall?"
"Yes,
yes!" said Flora, "it shall be so; its very chambers now are hideous
with the recollection of scenes enacted in them. I will urge my brothers, my
mother, all to leave, and in some distant clime we will find security and
shelter. There even we will learn to think of you with more of sorrow than of
anger—more pity than reproach—more curiosity than loathing."
"Be
it so," said the vampyre; and he clasped his hands, as if with a
thankfulness that he had done so much towards restoring peace at least to one,
who, in consequence of his acts, had felt such exquisite despair. "Be it
so; and even I will hope that the feelings which have induced so desolated and
so isolated a being as myself to endeavour to bring peace to one human heart,
will plead for me, trumpet-tongued, to Heaven!"
"It
will—it will," said Flora.
"Do
you think so?"
"I
do; and I will pray that the thought may turn to certainty in such a
cause."
The
vampyre appeared to be much affected; and then he added,—
"Flora,
you know that this spot has been the scene of a catastrophe fearful to look
back upon, in the annals of your family?"
"It
has," said Flora. "I know to what you allude; 'tis a matter of common
knowledge to all—a sad theme to me, and one I would not court."
"Nor
would I oppress you with it. Your father, here, on this very spot, committed
that desperate act which brought him uncalled for to the judgment seat of God.
I have a strange, wild curiosity upon such subjects. Will you, in return for
the good that I have tried to do you, gratify it?"
"I
know not what you mean," said Flora.
"To
be more explicit, then, do you remember the day on which your father breathed
his last?"
"Too
well—too well."
"Did
you see him or converse with him shortly before that desperate act was
committed?"
"No;
he shut himself up for some time in a solitary chamber."
"Ha!
what chamber?"
"The
one in which I slept myself on the night—"
"Yes,
yes; the one with the portrait—that speaking portrait—the eyes of which seem to
challenge an intruder as he enters the apartment."
"The
same."
"For
hours shut up there!" added Varney, musingly; "and from thence he
wandered to the garden, where, in this summer-house, he breathed his
last?"
"It
was so."
"Then,
Flora, ere I bid you adieu—"
These
words were scarcely uttered, when there was a quick, hasty footstep, and Henry
Bannerworth appeared behind Varney, in the very entrance of the summer-house.
"Now,"
he cried, "for revenge! Now, foul being, blot upon the earth's surface,
horrible imitation of humanity, if mortal arm can do aught against you, you
shall die!"
A
shriek came from the lips of Flora, and flinging herself past Varney, who
stepped aside, she clung to her brother, who made an unavailing pass with his
sword at the vampyre. It was a critical moment; and had the presence of mind of
Varney deserted him in the least, unarmed as he was, he must have fallen
beneath the weapon of Henry. To spring, however, up the seat which Flora had
vacated, and to dash out some of the flimsy and rotten wood-work at the back of
the summer-house by the propulsive power of his whole frame, was the work of a
moment; and before Henry could free himself from the clinging embrace of Flora,
Varney, the vampyre was gone, and there was no greater chance of his capture
than on a former occasion, when he was pursued in vain from the Hall to the
wood, in the intricacies of which he was so entirely lost.
THE EXPLANATION.—MARCHDALE'S ADVICE.—THE PROJECTED REMOVAL,
AND THE ADMIRAL'S ANGER.
This
extremely sudden movement on the part of Varney was certainly as unexpected as
it was decisive. Henry had imagined, that by taking possession of the only
entrance to the summer-house, he must come into personal conflict with the
being who had worked so much evil for him and his; and that he should so
suddenly have created for himself another mode of exit, certainly never
occurred to him.
"For
Heaven's sake, Flora," he said, "unhand me; this is a time for
action."
"But,
Henry, Henry, hear me."
"Presently,
presently, dear Flora; I will yet make another effort to arrest the headlong
flight of Varney."
He
shook her off, perhaps with not more roughness than was necessary to induce her
to forego her grasp of him, but in a manner that fully showed he intended to be
free; and then he sprang through the same aperture whence Varney had
disappeared, just as George and Mr. Marchdale arrived at the door of the
summer-house.
It
was nearly morning, so that the fields were brightening up with the faint
radiance of the coming day; and when Henry reached a point which he knew
commanded an extensive view, he paused, and ran his eye eagerly along the
landscape, with a hope of discovering some trace of the fugitive.
Such,
however, was not the case; he saw nothing, heard nothing of Sir Francis Varney;
and then he turned, and called loudly to George to join him, and was
immediately replied to by his brother's presence, accompanied by Marchdale.
Before,
however, they could exchange a word, a rattling discharge of fire-arms took
place from one of the windows, and they heard the admiral, in a loud voice,
shouting,—
"Broadside
to broadside! Give it them again, Jack! Hit them between wind and water!"
Then
there was another rattling discharge, and Henry exclaimed,—
"What
is the meaning of that firing?"
"It
comes from the admiral's room," said Marchdale. "On my life, I think
the old man must be mad. He has some six or eight pistols ranged in a row along
the window-sill, and all loaded, so that by the aid of a match they can be
pretty well discharged as a volley, which he considers the only proper means of
firing upon the vampyre."
"It
is so," replied George; "and, no doubt, hearing an alarm, he has
commenced operations by firing into the enemy."
"Well,
well," said Henry; "he must have his way. I have pursued Varney thus
far, and that he has again retreated to the wood, I cannot doubt. Between this
and the full light of day, let us at least make an effort to discover his place
of retreat. We know the locality as well as he can possibly, and I propose now
that we commence an active search."
"Come
on, then," said Marchdale. "We are all armed; and I, for one, shall
feel no hesitation in taking the life, if it be possible to do so, of that
strange being."
"Of
that possibility you doubt?" said George, as they hurried on across the
meadows.
"Indeed
I do, and with reason too. I'm certain that when I fired at him before I hit
him; and besides, Flora must have shot him upon the occasion when we were
absent, and she used your pistols Henry, to defend herself and her
mother."
"It
would seem so," said Henry; "and disregarding all present
circumstances, if I do meet him, I will put to the proof whether he be mortal
or not."
The
distance was not great, and they soon reached the margin of the wood; they then
separated agreeing to meet within it, at a well-spring, familiar to them all:
previous to which each was to make his best endeavour to discover if any one
was hidden among the bush-wood or in the hollows of the ancient trees they
should encounter on their line of march.
The
fact was, that Henry finding that he was likely to pass an exceedingly
disturbed, restless night, through agitation of spirits, had, after tossing to
and fro on his couch for many hours, wisely at length risen, and determined to
walk abroad in the gardens belonging to the mansion, in preference to
continuing in such a state of fever and anxiety, as he was in, in his own
chamber.
Since
the vampyre's dreadful visit, it had been the custom of both the brothers,
occasionally, to tap at the chamber door of Flora, who, at her own request, now
that she had changed her room, and dispensed with any one sitting up with her,
wished occasionally to be communicated with by some member of the family.
Henry,
then, after rapidly dressing, as he passed the door of her bedroom, was about
to tap at it, when to his surprise he found it open, and upon hastily entering
it he observed that the bed was empty, and a hasty glance round the apartment
convinced him that Flora was not there.
Alarm
took possession of him, and hastily arming himself, he roused Marchdale and
George, but without waiting for them to be ready to accompany him, he sought
the garden, to search it thoroughly in case she should be anywhere there
concealed.
Thus
it was he had come upon the conference so strangely and so unexpectedly held
between Varney and Flora in the summer-house. With what occurred upon that
discovery the readers are acquainted.
Flora
had promised George that she would return immediately to the house, but when,
in compliance with the call of Henry, George and Marchdale had left her alone,
she felt so agitated and faint that she began to cling to the trellis work of
the little building for a few moments before she could gather strength to reach
the mansion.
Two
or three minutes might thus have elapsed, and Flora was in such a state of
mental bewilderment with all that had occurred, that she could scarce believe
it real, when suddenly a slight sound attracted her attention, and through the
gap which had been made in the wall of the summer-house, with an appearance of
perfect composure, again appeared Sir Francis Varney.
"Flora,"
he said, quietly resuming the discourse which had been broken off, "I am
quite convinced now that you will be much the happier for the interview."
"Gracious
Heaven!" said Flora, "whence have you come from?"
"I
have never left," said Varney.
"But
I saw you fly from this spot."
"You
did; but it was only to another immediately outside the summer house. I had no
idea of breaking off our conference so abruptly."
"Have
you anything to add to what you have already stated?"
"Absolutely
nothing, unless you have a question to propose to me—I should have thought you
had, Flora. Is there no other circumstance weighing heavily upon your mind, as
well as the dreadful visitation I have subjected you to?"
"Yes,"
said Flora. "What has become of Charles Holland?"
"Listen.
Do not discard all hope; when you are far from here you will meet with him
again."
"But
he has left me."
"And
yet he will be able, when you again encounter him, so far to extenuate his
seeming perfidy, that you shall hold him as untouched in honour as when first
he whispered to you that he loved you."
"Oh,
joy! joy!" said Flora; "by that assurance you have robbed misfortune
of its sting, and richly compensated me for all that I have suffered."
"Adieu!"
said the vampyre. "I shall now proceed to my own home by a different route
to that taken by those who would kill me."
"But
after this," said Flora, "there shall be no danger; you shall be held
harmless, and our departure from Bannerworth Hall shall be so quick, that you
will soon be released from all apprehension of vengeance from my brother, and I
shall taste again of that happiness which I thought had fled from me for
ever."
"Farewell,"
said the vampire; and folding his cloak closely around him, he strode from the
summer-house, soon disappearing from her sight behind the shrubs and ample
vegetation with which that garden abounded.
Flora
sunk upon her knees, and uttered a brief, but heartfelt thanksgiving to Heaven
for this happy change in her destiny. The hue of health faintly again visited
her cheeks, and as she now, with a feeling of more energy and strength than she
had been capable of exerting for many days, walked towards the house, she felt
all that delightful sensation which the mind experiences when it is shaking off
the trammels of some serious evil which it delights now to find that the
imagination has attired in far worse colours than the facts deserved.
It is
scarcely necessary, after this, to say that the search in the wood for Sir
Francis Varney was an unproductive one, and that the morning dawned upon the
labours of the brother and of Mr. Marchdale, without their having discovered
the least indication of the presence of Varney. Again puzzled and confounded,
they stood on the margin of the wood, and looked sadly towards the brightening
windows of Bannerworth Hall, which were now reflecting with a golden radiance
the slant rays of the morning sun.
"Foiled
again," remarked Henry, with a gesture of impatience; "foiled again,
and as completely as before. I declare that I will fight this man, let our
friend the admiral say what he will against such a measure I will meet him in
mortal combat; he shall consummate his triumph over our whole family by my
death, or I will rid the world and ourselves of so frightful a character."
"Let
us hope," said Marchdale, "that some other course may be adopted,
which shall put an end to these proceedings."
"That,"
exclaimed Henry, "is to hope against all probability; what other course
can be pursued? Be this Varney man or devil, he has evidently marked us for his
prey."
"Indeed,
it would seem so," remarked George; "but yet he shall find that we
will not fall so easily; he shall discover that if poor Flora's gentle spirit
has been crushed by these frightful circumstances, we are of a sterner
mould."
"He
shall," said Henry; "I for one will dedicate my life to this matter.
I will know no more rest than is necessary to recruit my frame, until I have
succeeded in overcoming this monster; I will seek no pleasure here, and will
banish from my mind, all else that may interfere with that one fixed pursuit.
He or I must fall."
"Well
spoken," said Marchdale; "and yet I hope that circumstances may occur
to prevent such a necessity of action, and that probably you will yet see that
it will be wise and prudent to adopt a milder and a safer course."
"No,
Marchdale, you cannot feel as we feel. You look on more as a spectator,
sympathising with the afflictions of either, than feeling the full sting of
those afflictions yourself."
"Do
I not feel acutely for you? I'm a lonely man in the world, and I have taught
myself now to centre my affections in your family; my recollections of early
years assist me in so doing. Believe me, both of you, that I am no idle
spectator of your griefs, but that I share them fully. If I advise you to be
peaceful, and to endeavour by the gentlest means possible to accomplish your
aims, it is not that I would counsel you cowardice; but having seen so much
more of the world than either of you have had time or opportunity of seeing, I
do not look so enthusiastically upon matters, but, with a cooler, calmer
judgment, I do not say a better, I proffer to you my counsel."
"We
thank you," said Henry; "but this is a matter in which action seems
specially called for. It is not to be borne that a whole family is to be
oppressed by such a fiend in human shape as that Varney."
"Let
me," said Marchdale, "counsel you to submit to Flora's decision in
this business; let her wishes constitute the rules of action. She is the
greatest sufferer, and the one most deeply interested in the termination of this
fearful business. Moreover she has judgment and decision of character—she will
advise you rightly, be assured."
"That
she would advise us honourably," said Henry, "and that we should feel
every disposition in the world to defer to her wishes our proposition, is not
to be doubted; but little shall be done without her counsel and sanction. Let
us now proceed homeward, for I am most anxious to ascertain how it came about
that she and Sir Francis Varney were together in that summer-house at so
strange an hour."
They
all three walked together towards the house, conversing in a similar strain as
they went.