Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Have
you any objection to being left alone here for about half an hour, George,
while we make an examination of the garden?"
"Let
me have some weapon and I care not. Remain here while I fetch a sword from my
own room."
Henry
did so, and when George returned with a sword, which he always kept in his
bed-room, he said,—
"Now
go, Henry. I prefer a weapon of this description to pistols much. Do not be
longer gone than necessary."
"I
will not, George, be assured."
George
was then left alone, and Henry returned to the balcony, where Mr. Marchdale was
waiting for him. It was a quicker mode of descending to the garden to do so by
clambering over the balcony than any other, and the height was not considerable
enough to make it very objectionable, so Henry and Mr. Marchdale chose that way
of joining Mr. Chillingworth.
"You
are, no doubt, much surprised at finding me here," said the doctor;
"but the fact is, I half made up my mind to come while I was here; but I
had not thoroughly done so, therefore I said nothing to you about it."
"We
are much indebted to you," said Henry, "for making the attempt."
"I
am prompted to it by a feeling of the strongest curiosity."
"Are
you armed, sir?" said Marchdale.
"In
this stick," said the doctor, "is a sword, the exquisite temper of
which I know I can depend upon, and I fully intended to run through any one
whom I saw that looked in the least of the vampyre order."
"You
would have done quite right," replied Mr. Marchdale. "I have a brace
of pistols here, loaded with ball; will you take one, Henry, if you please, and
then we shall be all armed."
Thus,
then, prepared for any exigency, they made the whole round of the house; but
found all the fastenings secure, and everything as quiet as possible.
"Suppose,
now, we take a survey of the park outside the garden wall," said Mr.
Marchdale.
This
was agreed to; but before they had proceeded far, Mr. Marchdale said,—
"There
is a ladder lying on the wall; would it not be a good plan to place it against
the very spot the supposed vampyre jumped over last night, and so, from a more
elevated position, take a view of the open meadows. We could easily drop down
on the outer side, if we saw anything suspicious."
"Not
a bad plan," said the doctor. "Shall we do it?"
"Certainly,"
said Henry; and they accordingly carried the ladder, which had been used for
pruning the trees, towards the spot at the end of the long walk, at which the
vampyre had made good, after so many fruitless efforts, his escape from the
premises.
They
made haste down the long vista of trees until they reached the exact spot, and
then they placed the ladder as near as possible, exactly where Henry, in his
bewilderment on the evening before, had seen the apparition from the grave
spring to.
"We
can ascend singly," said Marchdale; "but there is ample space for us
all there to sit on the top of the wall and make our observations."
This
was seen to be the case, and in about a couple of minutes they had taken up
their positions on the wall, and, although the height was but trifling, they
found that they had a much more extensive view than they could have obtained by
any other means.
"To
contemplate the beauty of such a night as this," said Mr. Chillingworth,
"is amply sufficient compensation for coming the distance I have."
"And
who knows," remarked Marchdale, "we may yet see something which may
throw a light upon our present perplexities God knows that I would give all I
can call mine in the world to relieve you and your sister, Henry Bannerworth,
from the fearful effect which last night's proceedings cannot fail to have upon
you."
"Of
that I am well assured, Mr. Marchdale," said Henry. "If the happiness
of myself and family depended upon you, we should be happy indeed."
"You
are silent, Mr. Chillingworth," remarked Marchdale, after a slight pause.
"Hush!"
said Mr. Chillingworth—"hush—hush!"
"Good
God, what do you hear?" cried Henry.
The
doctor laid his hand upon Henry's arm as he said,—
"There
is a young lime tree yonder to the right."
"Yes—yes."
"Carry
your eye from it in a horizontal line, as near as you can, towards the
wood."
Henry
did so, and then he uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise, and pointed to a
rising spot of ground, which was yet, in consequence of the number of tall
trees in its vicinity, partially enveloped in shadow.
"What
is that?" he said.
"I
see something," said Marchdale. "By Heaven! it is a human form lying
stretched there."
"It
is—as if in death."
"What
can it be?" said Chillingworth.
"I
dread to say," replied Marchdale; "but to my eyes, even at this
distance, it seems like the form of him we chased last night."
"The
vampyre?"
"Yes—yes.
Look, the moonbeams touch him. Now the shadows of the trees gradually recede.
God of Heaven! the figure moves."
Henry's
eyes were riveted to that fearful object, and now a scene presented itself
which filled them all with wonder and astonishment, mingled with sensations of
the greatest awe and alarm.
As
the moonbeams, in consequence of the luminary rising higher and higher in the
heavens, came to touch this figure that lay extended on the rising ground, a
perceptible movement took place in it. The limbs appeared to tremble, and
although it did not rise up, the whole body gave signs of vitality.
"The
vampyre—the vampyre!" said Mr. Marchdale. "I cannot doubt it now. We
must have hit him last night with the pistol bullets, and the moonbeams are now
restoring him to a new life."
Henry
shuddered, and even Mr. Chillingworth turned pale. But he was the first to
recover himself sufficiently to propose some course of action, and he said,—
"Let
us descend and go up to this figure. It is a duty we owe to ourselves as much
as to society."
"Hold
a moment," said Mr. Marchdale, as he produced a pistol. "I am an
unerring shot, as you well know, Henry. Before we move from this position we
now occupy, allow me to try what virtue may be in a bullet to lay that figure
low again."
"He
is rising!" exclaimed Henry.
Mr.
Marchdale levelled the pistol—he took a sure and deliberate aim, and then, just
as the figure seemed to be struggling to its feet, he fired, and, with a sudden
bound, it fell again.
"You
have hit it," said Henry.
"You
have indeed," exclaimed the doctor. "I think we can go now."
"Hush!"
said Marchdale—"Hush! Does it not seem to you that, hit it as often as you
will, the moonbeams will recover it?"
"Yes—yes,"
said Henry, "they will—they will."
"I
can endure this no longer," said Mr. Chillingworth, as he sprung from the
wall. "Follow me or not, as you please, I will seek the spot where this
being lies."
"Oh,
be not rash," cried Marchdale. "See, it rises again, and its form
looks gigantic."
"I
trust in Heaven and a righteous cause," said the doctor, as he drew the
sword he had spoken of from the stick, and threw away the scabbard. "Come
with me if you like, or I go alone."
Henry
at once jumped down from the wall, and then Marchdale followed him, saying,—
"Come
on; I will not shrink."
They
ran towards the piece of rising ground; but before they got to it, the form
rose and made rapidly towards a little wood which was in the immediate
neighbourhood of the hillock.
"It
is conscious of being pursued," cried the doctor. "See how it glances
back, and then increases its speed."
"Fire
upon it, Henry," said Marchdale.
He
did so; but either his shot did not take effect, or it was quite unheeded if it
did, by the vampyre, which gained the wood before they could have a hope of
getting sufficiently near it to effect, or endeavour to effect, a capture.
"I
cannot follow it there," said Marchdale. "In open country I would
have pursued it closely; but I cannot follow it into the intricacies of a
wood."
"Pursuit
is useless there," said Henry. "It is enveloped in the deepest
gloom."
"I
am not so unreasonable," remarked Mr. Chillingworth, "as to wish you
to follow into such a place as that. I am confounded utterly by this
affair."
"And
I," said Marchdale. "What on earth is to be done?"
"Nothing—nothing!"
exclaimed Henry, vehemently; "and yet I have, beneath the canopy of
Heaven, declared that I will, so help me God! spare neither time nor trouble in
the unravelling of this most fearful piece of business. Did either of you
remark the clothing which this spectral appearance wore?"
"They
were antique clothes," said Mr. Chillingworth, "such as might have
been fashionable a hundred years ago, but not now."
"Such
was my impression," added Marchdale.
"And
such my own," said Henry, excitedly. "Is it at all within the compass
of the wildest belief that what we have seen is a vampyre, and no other than my
ancestor who, a hundred years ago, committed suicide?"
There
was so much intense excitement, and evidence of mental suffering, that Mr.
Chillingworth took him by the arm, saying,—
"Come
home—come home; no more of this at present; you will but make yourself
seriously unwell."
"No—no—no."
"Come
home now, I pray you; you are by far too much excited about this matter to
pursue it with the calmness which should be brought to bear upon it."
"Take
advice, Henry," said Marchdale, "take advice, and come home at
once."
"I
will yield to you; I feel that I cannot control my own feelings—I will yield to
you, who, as you say, are cooler on this subject than I can be. Oh, Flora,
Flora, I have no comfort to bring to you now."
Poor
Henry Bannerworth appeared to be in a complete state of mental prostration, on
account of the distressing circumstances that had occurred so rapidly and so
suddenly in his family, which had had quite enough to contend with without
having superadded to every other evil the horror of believing that some
preternatural agency was at work to destroy every hope of future happiness in
this world, under any circumstances.
He
suffered himself to be led home by Mr. Chillingworth and Marchdale; he no
longer attempted to dispute the dreadful fact concerning the supposed vampyre;
he could not contend now against all the corroborating circumstances that
seemed to collect together for the purpose of proving that which, even when
proved, was contrary to all his notions of Heaven, and at variance with all
that was recorded and established is part and parcel of the system of nature.
"I
cannot deny," he said, when they had reached home, "that such things
are possible; but the probability will not bear a moment's investigation."
"There
are more things," said Marchdale, solemnly, "in Heaven, and on earth,
than are dreamed of in our philosophy."
"There
are indeed, it appears," said Mr. Chillingworth.
"And
are you a convert?" said Henry, turning to him.
"A
convert to what?"
"To
a belief in—in—these vampyres?"
"I?
No, indeed; if you were to shut me up in a room full of vampyres, I would tell
them all to their teeth that I defied them."
"But
after what we have seen to-night?"
"What
have we seen?"
"You
are yourself a witness."
"True;
I saw a man lying down, and then I saw a man get up; he seemed then to be shot,
but whether he was or not he only knows; and then I saw him walk off in a
desperate hurry. Beyond that, I saw nothing."
"Yes;
but, taking such circumstances into combination with others, have you not a
terrible fear of the truth of the dreadful appearance?"
"No—no;
on my soul, no. I will die in my disbelief of such an outrage upon Heaven as
one of these creatures would most assuredly be."
"Oh!
that I could think like you; but the circumstance strikes too nearly to my
heart."
"Be
of better cheer, Henry—be of better cheer," said Marchdale; "there is
one circumstance which we ought to consider, it is that, from all we have seen,
there seems to be some things which would favour an opinion, Henry, that your
ancestor, whose portrait hangs in the chamber which was occupied by Flora, is
the vampyre."
"The
dress was the same," said Henry.
"I
noted it was."
"And
I."
"Do
you not, then, think it possible that something might be done to set that part
of the question at rest?"