Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
The
vampyre made a furious gesture, as if he would have attacked Charles Holland;
but then he sank nearly to the floor, as if soul-stricken by some recollection
that unnerved his arm; he shook with unwonted emotion, and, from the frightful
livid aspect of his countenance, Charles dreaded some serious accession of
indisposition, which might, if nothing else did, prevent him from making the
revelation he so much sought to hear from his lips.
"Varney,"
he cried, "Varney, be calm! you will be listened to by one who will draw
no harsh—no hasty conclusions; by one, who, with that charity, I grieve to say,
is rare, will place upon the words you utter the most favourable construction.
Tell me all, I pray you, tell me all."
"This
is strange," said the vampyre. "I never thought that aught human
could thus have moved me. Young man, you have touched the chords of memory;
they vibrate throughout my heart, producing cadences and sounds of years long
past. Bear with me awhile."
"And
you will speak to me?"
"I
will."
"Having
your promise, then, I am content, Varney."
"But
you must be secret; not even in the wildest waste of nature, where you can well
presume that naught but Heaven can listen to your whisperings, must you utter
one word of that which I shall tell to you."
"Alas!"
said Charles, "I dare not take such a confidence; I have said that it is
not for myself; I seek such knowledge of what you are, and what you have been,
but it is for another so dear to me, that all the charms of life that make up
other men's delights, equal not the witchery of one glance from her, speaking
as it does of the glorious light from that Heaven which is eternal, from whence
she sprung."
"And
you reject my communication," said Varney, "because I will not give
you leave to expose it to Flora Bannerworth?"
"It
must be so."
"And
you are most anxious to hear that which I have to relate?"
"Most
anxious, indeed—indeed, most anxious."
"Then
have I found in that scruple which besets your mind, a better argument for
trusting you, than had ye been loud in protestation. Had your promises of
secrecy been but those which come from the lip, and not from the heart, my
confidence would not have been rejected on such grounds. I think that I dare
trust you."
"With
leave to tell to Flora that which you shall communicate."
"You
may whisper it to her, but to no one else, without my special leave and
licence."
"I
agree to those terms, and will religiously preserve them."
"I
do not doubt you for one moment; and now I will tell to you what never yet has
passed my lips to mortal man. Now will I connect together some matters which
you may have heard piecemeal from others."
"What
others are they?"
"Dr.
Chillingworth, and he who once officiated as a London hangman."
"I
have heard something from those quarters."
"Listen
then to me, and you shall better understand that which you have heard. Some
years ago, it matters not the number, on a stormy night, towards the autumn of
the year, two men sat alone in poverty, and that species of distress which
beset the haughty, profligate, daring man, who has been accustomed all his life
to its most enticing enjoyments, but never to that industry which alone ought
to produce them, and render them great and magnificent."
"Two
men; and who were they?"
"I
was one. Look upon me! I was of those men; and strong and evil passions were
battling in my heart."
"And
the other!"
"Was
Marmaduke Bannerworth."
"Gracious
Heaven! the father of her whom I adore; the suicide."
"Yes,
the same; that man stained with a thousand vices—blasted by a thousand
crimes—the father of her who partakes nothing of his nature, who borrows
nothing from his memory but his name—was the man who there sat with me,
plotting and contriving how, by fraud or violence, we were to lead our usual
life of revelry and wild audacious debauch."
"Go
on, go on; believe me, I am deeply interested."
"I
can see as much. We were not nice in the various schemes which our prolific
fancies engendered. If trickery, and the false dice at the gaming-table,
sufficed not to fill our purses, we were bold enough for violence. If simple
robbery would not succeed, we could take a life."
"Murder?"
"Ay,
call it by its proper name, a murder. We sat till the midnight hour had passed,
without arriving at a definite conclusion; we saw no plan of practicable
operation, and so we wandered onwards to one of those deep dens of iniquity, a
gaming-house, wherein we had won and lost thousands.
"We
had no money, but we staked largely, in the shape of a wager, upon the success
of one of the players; we knew not, or cared not, for the consequence, if we
had lost; but, as it happened, we were largely successful, and beggars as we
had walked into that place, we might have left it independent men.
"But
when does the gambler know when to pause in his career? If defeat awakens all
the raging passions of humanity within his bosom, success but feeds the great
vice that has been there engendered. To the dawn of morn we played; the bright
sun shone in, and yet we played—the midday came, and went—the stimulant of wine
supported us, and still we played; then came the shadows of evening, stealing
on in all their beauty. But what were they to us, amid those mutations of
fortune, which, at one moment, made us princes, and placed palaces at our
control, and, at another, debased us below the veriest beggar, that craves the
stinted alms of charity from door to door.
"And
there was one man who, from the first to the last, stayed by us like a very
fiend; more than man, I thought he was not human. We won of all, but of him.
People came and brought their bright red gold, and laid it down before us, but
for us to take it up, and then, by a cruel stroke of fortune, he took it from
us.
"The
night came on; we won, and he won of us; the clock struck twelve—we were
beggars. God knows what was he.
"We
saw him place his winnings about his person—we saw the smile that curved the
corners of his lips; he was calm, and we were maddened. The blood flowed
temperately through his veins, but in ours it was burning lava, scorching as it
went through every petty artery, and drying up all human thought—all human
feeling.
"The
winner left, and we tracked his footsteps. When he reached the open air,
although he had taken much less than we of the intoxicating beverages that are
supplied gratis to those who frequent those haunts of infamy, it was evident
that some sort of inebriation attacked him; his steps were disordered and
unsteady, and, as we followed him, we could perceive, by the devious track that
he took, that he was somewhat uncertain of his route.
"We
had no fixed motive in so pursuing this man. It was but an impulsive proceeding
at the best; but as he still went on and cleared the streets, getting into the
wild and open country, and among the hedge-rows, we began to whisper together,
and to think that what we did not owe to fortune, we might to our own energy
and courage at such a moment.
"I
need not hesitate to say so, since, to hide the most important feature of my
revelation from you, would be but to mock you; we resolved upon robbing him.
"And
was that all?"
"It
was all that our resolution went to. We were not anxious to spill blood; but
still we were resolved that we would accomplish our purpose, even if it
required murder for its consummation. Have you heard enough?"
"I
have not heard enough, although I guess the rest."
"You
may well guess it, from its preface. He turned down a lonely pathway, which,
had we chosen it ourselves, could not have been more suitable for the attack we
meditated.
"There
were tall trees on either side, and a hedge-row stretching high up between
them. We knew that that lane led to a suburban village, which, without a doubt,
was the object of his destination.
"Then
Marmaduke Bannerworth spoke, saying,—
"'What
we have to do, must be done now or never. There needs not two in this
adventure. Shall you or I require him to refund what he has won from us?'
"'I
care not,' I said; 'but if we are to accomplish our purpose without arousing
even a shadow of resistance, it is better to show him its futility by both
appearing, and take a share in the adventure.'
"This
was agreed upon, and we hastened forward. He heard footsteps pursuing him and
quickened his pace. I was the fleetest runner, and overtook him. I passed him a
pace or two, and then turning, I faced him, and impeded his progress.
"The
lane was narrow, and a glance behind him showed him Marmaduke Bannerworth; so
that he was hemmed in between two enemies, and could move neither to the right
nor to the left, on account of the thick brushwood that intervened between the
trees.
"Then,
with an assumed courage, that sat but ill upon him, he demanded of us what we
wanted, and proclaimed his right to pass despite the obstruction we placed in
his way.
"The
dialogue was brief. I, being foremost, spoke to him.
"'Your
money,' I said; 'your winnings at the gaming-table. We cannot, and we will not
lose it.'
"So
suddenly, that he had nearly taken my life, he drew a pistol from his pocket,
and levelling it at my head, he fired upon me.
"Perhaps,
had I moved, it might have been my death; but, as it was, the bullet furrowed
my cheek, leaving a scar, the path of which is yet visible in a white cicatrix.
"I
felt a stunning sensation, and thought myself a dead man. I cried aloud to
Marmaduke Bannerworth, and he rushed forward. I knew not that he was armed, and
that he had the power about him to do the deed which he then accomplished; but
there was a groan, a slight struggle, and the successful gamester fell upon the
green sward, bathed in his blood."
"And
this is the father of her whom I adore?"
"It
is. Are you shocked to think of such a neat relationship between so much beauty
and intelligence and a midnight murderer? Is your philosophy so poor, that the
daughter's beauty suffers from the commission of a father's crime?"
"No,
no, It is not so. Do not fancy that, for one moment, I can entertain such
unworthy opinions. The thought that crossed me was that I should have to tell
one of such a gentle nature that her father had done such a deed."
"On
that head you can use your own discretion. The deed was done; there was
sufficient light for us to look upon the features of the dying man. Ghastly and
terrific they glared upon us; while the glazed eyes, as they were upturned to
the bright sky, seemed appealing to Heaven for vengeance against us, for having
done the deed.
"Many
a day and many an hour since at all times and all seasons, I have seen those
eyes, with the glaze of death upon them, following me, and gloating over the
misery they had the power to make. I think I see them now."
"Indeed!"
"Yes;
look—look—see how they glare upon me—with what a fixed and frightful stare the
bloodshot pupils keep their place—there, there! oh! save me from such a visitation
again. It is too horrible. I dare not—I cannot endure it; and yet why do you
gaze at me with such an aspect, dread visitant? You know that it was not my
hand that did the deed—who laid you low. You know that not to me are you able
to lay the heavy charge of your death!"
"Varney,
you look upon vacancy," said Charles Holland.
"No,
no; vacancy it may be to you, but to me 'tis full of horrible shapes."
"Compose
yourself; you have taken me far into your confidence already; I pray you now to
tell me all. I have in my brain no room for horrible conjectures such as those
which might else torment me."
Varney
was silent for a few minutes, and then he wiped from his brow the heavy drops
of perspiration that had there gathered, and heaved a deep sigh.
"Speak
to me," added Charles; "nothing will so much relieve you from the
terrors of this remembrance as making a confidence which reflection will
approve of, and which you will know that you have no reason to repent."
"Charles
Holland," said Varney, "I have already gone too far to retract—much
too far, I know, and can well understand all the danger of half confidence. You
already know so much, that it is fit you should know more."
"Go
on then, Varney, I will listen to you."
"I
know not if, at this juncture, I can command myself to say more. I feel that
what next has to be told will be most horrible for me to tell—most sad for you
to hear told."
"I
can well believe, Varney, from your manner of speech, and from the words you
use, that you have some secret to relate beyond this simple fact of the murder
of this gamester by Marmaduke Bannerworth."
"You
are right—such is the fact; the death of that man could not have moved me as
you now see me moved. There is a secret connected with his fate which I may
well hesitate to utter—a secret even to whisper to the winds of
heaven—I—although I did not do the deed, no, no—I—I did not strike the blow—not
I—not I!"