Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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[Transcriber's note: This book was originally published in "penny
dreadful" form. This edition does not include the entire 109
episodes, which were published in three volumes. Authorship has
also been ascribed to James Malcolm Rymer.

The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber.]

[Illustration:

No. 1.) Nos. 2, 3 and 4 are Presented, Gratis, with this No. |Price 1d.

VARNEY THE VAMPIRE

OR THE

FEAST OF BLOOD

A ROMANCE OF EXCITING INTEREST

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"GRACE RIVERS, OR, THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER."

LONDON E. LLOYD, SALISBURY SQUARE, AND ALL BOOKSELLERS]

VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE:

OR,

THE FEAST OF BLOOD.

A Romance.

"Art thou a spirit of health or goblin damned?"

LONDON:

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY E. LLOYD, 12, SALISBURY-SQUARE, FLEET-STREET.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.--MIDNIGHT.--THE HAIL-STORM.--THE DREADFUL VISITOR.--THE
VAMPYRE.

CHAPTER II.--THE ALARM.--THE PISTOL SHOT.--THE PURSUIT AND ITS
CONSEQUENCES.

CHAPTER III.--THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY.--FLORA'S RECOVERY AND
MADNESS.--THE OFFER OF ASSISTANCE FROM SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

CHAPTER IV.--THE MORNING.--THE CONSULTATION.--THE FEARFUL SUGGESTION.

CHAPTER V.--THE NIGHT WATCH.--THE PROPOSAL.--THE MOONLIGHT.--THE
FEARFUL ADVENTURE.

CHAPTER VI.--A GLANCE AT THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY.--THE PROBABLE
CONSEQUENCES OF THE MYSTERIOUS APPARITION'S APPEARANCE.

CHAPTER VII.--THE VISIT TO THE VAULT OF THE BANNERWORTHS, AND ITS
UNPLEASANT RESULT.--THE MYSTERY.

CHAPTER VIII.--THE COFFIN.--THE ABSENCE OF THE DEAD.--THE MYSTERIOUS
CIRCUMSTANCE, AND THE CONSTERNATION OF GEORGE.

CHAPTER IX.--THE OCCURRENCES OF THE NIGHT AT THE HALL.--THE SECOND
APPEARANCE OF THE VAMPYRE, AND THE PISTOL-SHOT.

CHAPTER X.--THE RETURN FROM THE VAULT.--THE ALARM, AND THE SEARCH
AROUND THE HALL.

CHAPTER XI.--THE COMMUNICATIONS TO THE LOVER.--THE HEART'S DESPAIR.

CHAPTER XII.--CHARLES HOLLAND'S SAD FEELINGS.--THE PORTRAIT.--THE
OCCURRENCE OF THE NIGHT AT THE HALL.

CHAPTER XIII.--THE OFFER FOR THE HALL.--THE VISIT TO SIR FRANCIS
VARNEY.--THE STRANGE RESEMBLANCE.--A DREADFUL SUGGESTION.

CHAPTER XIV.--HENRY'S AGREEMENT WITH SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.--THE SUDDEN
ARRIVAL AT THE HALL.--FLORA'S ALARM.

CHAPTER XV.--THE OLD ADMIRAL AND HIS SERVANT.--THE COMMUNICATION FROM
THE LANDLORD OF THE NELSON'S ARMS.

CHAPTER XVI.--THE MEETING OF THE LOVERS IN THE GARDEN.--AN AFFECTING
SCENE.--THE SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

CHAPTER XVII.--THE EXPLANATION.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE ADMIRAL AT THE
HOUSE.--A SCENE OF CONFUSION, AND SOME OF ITS RESULTS.

CHAPTER XVIII.--THE ADMIRAL'S ADVICE.--THE CHALLENGE TO THE
VAMPYRE.--THE NEW SERVANT AT THE HALL.

CHAPTER XIX.--FLORA IN HER CHAMBER.--HER FEARS.--THE MANUSCRIPT.--AN
ADVENTURE.

CHAPTER XX.--THE DREADFUL MISTAKE.--THE TERRIFIC INTERVIEW IN THE
CHAMBER.--THE ATTACK OF THE VAMPYRE.

CHAPTER XXI.--THE CONFERENCE BETWEEN THE UNCLE AND NEPHEW, AND THE
ALARM.

CHAPTER XXII.--THE CONSULTATION.--THE DETERMINATION TO LEAVE THE HALL.

CHAPTER XXIII.--THE ADMIRAL'S ADVICE TO CHARLES HOLLAND.--THE CHALLENGE
TO THE VAMPYRE.

CHAPTER XXIV.--THE LETTER TO CHARLES.--THE QUARREL.--THE ADMIRAL'S
NARRATIVE.--THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.

CHAPTER XXV.--THE ADMIRAL'S OPINION.--THE REQUEST OF CHARLES.

CHAPTER XXVI.--THE MEETING BY MOONLIGHT IN THE PARK.--THE TURRET WINDOW
IN THE HALL.--THE LETTERS.

CHAPTER XXVII.--THE NOBLE CONFIDENCE OF FLORA BANNERWORTH IN HER
LOVER.--HER OPINION OF THE THREE LETTERS.--THE ADMIRAL'S ADMIRATION.

CHAPTER XXVIII.--MR. MARCHDALE'S EXCULPATION OF HIMSELF.--THE SEARCH
THROUGH THE GARDENS.--THE SPOT OF THE DEADLY STRUGGLE.--THE MYSTERIOUS
PAPER.

CHAPTER XXIX.--A PEEP THROUGH AN IRON GRATING.--THE LONELY PRISONER IN
HIS DUNGEON.--THE MYSTERY.

CHAPTER XXX.--THE VISIT OF FLORA TO THE VAMPYRE.--THE OFFER.--THE
SOLEMN ASSEVERATION.

CHAPTER XXXI.--SIR FRANCIS VARNEY AND HIS MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.--THE
STRANGE CONFERENCE.

CHAPTER XXXII.--THE THOUSAND POUNDS.--THE STRANGER'S PRECAUTIONS.

CHAPTER XXXIII.--THE STRANGE INTERVIEW.--THE CHASE THROUGH THE HALL.

CHAPTER XXXIV.--THE THREAT.--ITS CONSEQUENCES.--THE RESCUE, AND SIR
FRANCIS VARNEY'S DANGER.

CHAPTER XXXV.--THE EXPLANATION.--MARCHDALE'S ADVICE.--THE PROJECTED
REMOVAL, AND THE ADMIRAL'S ANGER.

CHAPTER XXXVI.--THE CONSULTATION.--THE DUEL AND ITS RESULTS.

CHAPTER XXXVII.--SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S SEPARATE OPPONENTS.--THE
INTERPOSITION OF FLORA.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.--MARCHDALE'S OFFER.--THE CONSULTATION AT BANNERWORTH
HALL.--THE MORNING OF THE DUEL.

CHAPTER XXXIX.--THE STORM AND THE FIGHT.-THE ADMIRAL'S REPUDIATION OF
HIS PRINCIPAL.

CHAPTER XL.--THE POPULAR RIOT.--SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S DANGER.--THE
SUGGESTION AND ITS RESULTS.

CHAPTER XLIV.--VARNEY'S DANGER, AND HIS RESCUE.--THE PRISONER AGAIN,
AND THE SUBTERRANEAN VAULT.

CHAPTER XLV.--THE OPEN GRAVES.--THE DEAD BODIES.--A SCENE OF TERROR.

CHAPTER XLVI.--THE PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING BANNERWORTH HALL, AND THE
MYSTERIOUS CONDUCT OF THE ADMIRAL AND MR. CHILLINGWORTH.

CHAPTER XLVII.--THE REMOVAL FROM THE HALL.--THE NIGHT WATCH, AND THE
ALARM.

CHAPTER XLVIII--THE STAKE AND THE DEAD BODY.

CHAPTER XLIX--THE MOB'S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.--THE ATTEMPT
TO GAIN ADMISSION.

CHAPTER L.--THE MOB'S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.--THE ATTEMPT TO
GAIN ADMISSION.

CHAPTER LI.--THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPYRE'S HOUSE.--THE STORY OF THE
ATTACK.--THE FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.

CHAPTER LII.--THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE MOB AND SIR FRANCIS
VARNEY.--THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.--THE WINE CELLARS.

CHAPTER LIII.--THE DESTRUCTION OF SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S HOUSE BY
FIRE.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE MILITARY, AND A SECOND MOB.

CHAPTER LIV.--THE BURNING OF VARNEY'S HOUSE.--A NIGHT SCENE.--POPULAR
SUPERSTITION.

CHAPTER LV.--THE RETURN OF THE MOB AND MILITARY TO THE TOWN.--THE
MADNESS OF THE MOB.--THE GROCER'S REVENGE.

CHAPTER LVI.--THE DEPARTURE OF THE BANNERWORTHS FROM THE HALL.--THE NEW
ABODE.--JACK PRINGLE, PILOT.

CHAPTER LVII.--THE LONELY WATCH, AND THE ADVENTURE IN THE DESERTED
HOUSE.

CHAPTER LVIII.--THE ARRIVAL OF JACK PRINGLE.--MIDNIGHT AND THE
VAMPYRE.--THE MYSTERIOUS HAT.

CHAPTER LIX.--THE WARNING.--THE NEW PLAN OF OPERATION.--THE INSULTING
MESSAGE FROM VARNEY.

CHAPTER LX.--THE INTERRUPTED BREAKFAST AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.

CHAPTER LXI.--THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.--THE PARTICULARS OF THE SUICIDE
AT BANNERWORTH HALL.

CHAPTER LXII.--THE MYSTERIOUS MEETING IN THE RUIN AGAIN.--THE VAMPYRE'S
ATTACK UPON THE CONSTABLE.

CHAPTER LXIII.--THE GUESTS AT THE INN, AND THE STORY OF THE DEAD UNCLE.

CHAPTER LXIV.--THE VAMPIRE IN THE MOONLIGHT.--THE FALSE FRIEND.

CHAPTER LXV.--VARNEY'S VISIT TO THE DUNGEON OF THE LONELY PRISONER IN
THE RUINS.

CHAPTER LXVI.--FLORA BANNERWORTH'S APPARENT INCONSISTENCY.--THE
ADMIRAL'S CIRCUMSTANCES AND ADVICE.--MR. CHILLINGWORTH'S MYSTERIOUS
ABSENCE.

CHAPTER LXVII.--THE ADMIRAL'S STORY OF THE BEAUTIFUL BELINDA.

CHAPTER LXVIII.--MARCHDALE'S ATTEMPTED VILLANY, AND THE RESULT.

CHAPTER LXIX.--FLORA BANNERWORTH AND HER MOTHER.--THE EPISODE OF
CHIVALRY.

CHAPTER LXX.--THE FUNERAL OF THE STRANGER OF THE INN.--THE POPULAR
COMMOTION, AND MRS. CHILLINGWORTH'S APPEAL TO THE MOB.--THE NEW
RIOT.--THE HALL IN DANGER.

CHAPTER LXXI.--THE STRANGE MEETING AT THE HALL BETWEEN MR.
CHILLINGWORTH AND THE MYSTERIOUS FRIEND OF VARNEY.

CHAPTER LXXII.--THE STRANGE STORY.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE MOB AT THE HALL,
AND THEIR DISPERSION.

CHAPTER LXXIII.--THE VISIT OF THE VAMPIRE.--THE GENERAL MEETING.

CHAPTER LXXIV.--THE MEETING OF CHARLES AND FLORA.

CHAPTER LXXV.--MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS, AND THE VISIT TO THE RUINS.

CHAPTER LXXVI.--THE SECOND NIGHT-WATCH OF MR. CHILLINGWORTH AT THE
HALL.

CHAPTER LXXVII.--VARNEY IN THE GARDEN.--THE COMMUNICATION OF DR.
CHILLINGWORTH TO THE ADMIRAL AND HENRY.

CHAPTER LXXVIII.--THE ALTERCATION BETWEEN VARNEY AND THE EXECUTIONER IN
THE HALL.--THE MUTUAL AGREEMENT.

CHAPTER LXXIX.--THE VAMPYRE'S DANGER.--THE LAST REFUGE.--THE RUSE OF
HENRY BANNERWORTH.

CHAPTER LXXX.--THE DISCOVERY OF THE BODY OF MARCHDALE IN THE RUINS BY
THE MOB.--THE BURNING OF THE CORPSE.--THE MURDER OF THE HANGMAN.

CHAPTER LXXXI.--THE VAMPYRE'S FLIGHT.--HIS DANGER, AND THE LAST PLACE
OF REFUGE.

CHAPTER LXXXII.--CHARLES HOLLAND'S PURSUIT OF THE VAMPYRE.--THE
DANGEROUS INTERVIEW.

CHAPTER LXXXIII.--THE MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL AT THE INN.--THE HUNGARIAN
NOBLEMAN.--THE LETTER TO VARNEY.

CHAPTER LXXXIV.--THE EXCITED POPULACE.--VARNEY HUNTED.--THE PLACE OF
REFUGE.

CHAPTER LXXXV.--THE HUNGARIAN NOBLEMAN GETS INTO DANGER.--HE IS FIRED
AT, AND SHOWS SOME OF HIS QUALITY.

CHAPTER LXXXVI.--THE DISCOVERY OF THE POCKET BOOK OF MARMADUKE
BANNERWORTH.--ITS MYSTERIOUS CONTENTS.

CHAPTER LXXXVII.--THE HUNT FOR VARNEY.--THE HOUSE-TOPS.--THE MIRACULOUS
ESCAPE.--THE LAST PLACE OF REFUGE.--THE COTTAGE.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.--THE RECEPTION OF THE VAMPYRE BY FLORA.--VARNEY
SUBDUED.

CHAPTER LXXXIX.--TELLS WHAT BECAME OF THE SECOND VAMPYRE WHO SOUGHT
VARNEY.

CHAPTER XC.--DR. CHILLINGWORTH AT THE HALL.--THE ENCOUNTER OF
MYSTERY.--THE CONFLICT.--THE RESCUE, AND THE PICTURE.

CHAPTER XCI.--THE GRAND CONSULTATION BROKEN UP BY MRS. CHILLINGWORTH,
AND THE DISAPPEARANCE OF VARNEY.

CHAPTER XCII.--THE MISADVENTURE OF THE DOCTOR WITH THE PICTURE.

CHAPTER XCIII.--THE ALARM AT ANDERBURY.--THE SUSPICIONS OF THE
BANNERWORTH FAMILY, AND THE MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.

CHAPTER XCIV.--THE VISITOR, AND THE DEATH IN THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE.

CHAPTER XCV.--THE MARRIAGE IN THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY ARRANGED.

CHAPTER XCVI.--THE BARON TAKES ANDERBURY HOUSE, AND DECIDES UPON GIVING
A GRAND ENTERTAINMENT.

PREFACE

The unprecedented success of the romance of "Varney the Vampyre," leaves
the Author but little to say further, than that he accepts that success
and its results as gratefully as it is possible for any one to do
popular favours.

A belief in the existence of Vampyres first took its rise in Norway and
Sweden, from whence it rapidly spread to more southern regions, taking a
firm hold of the imaginations of the more credulous portion of mankind.

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic
sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely
to his readers, not even thinking that he his peculiarly called upon to
express his own opinion upon the subject.

Nothing has been omitted in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could
tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact
of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time
through Europe and is to be found in the public prints for the year
1713.

With these few observations, the Author and Publisher, are well content
to leave the work in the hands of a public, which has stamped it with an
approbation far exceeding their most sanguine expectations, and which is
calculated to act as the strongest possible incentive to the production
of other works, which in a like, or perchance a still further degree may
be deserving of public patronage and support.

To the whole of the Metropolitan Press for their laudatory notices, the
Author is peculiarly obliged.

_London Sep. 1847_

VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE;

OR

THE FEAST OF BLOOD

A Romance

CHAPTER I.

----"How graves give up their dead.
And how the night air hideous grows
With shrieks!"

MIDNIGHT.--THE HAIL-STORM.--THE DREADFUL VISITOR.--THE VAMPYRE.

[Illustration]

The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight--the
air is thick and heavy--a strange, death like stillness pervades all
nature. Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually
terrific outbreak of the elements, they seem to have paused even in
their ordinary fluctuations, to gather a terrific strength for the great
effort. A faint peal of thunder now comes from far off. Like a signal
gun for the battle of the winds to begin, it appeared to awaken them
from their lethargy, and one awful, warring hurricane swept over a whole
city, producing more devastation in the four or five minutes it lasted,
than would a half century of ordinary phenomena.

It was as if some giant had blown upon some toy town, and scattered many
of the buildings before the hot blast of his terrific breath; for as
suddenly as that blast of wind had come did it cease, and all was as
still and calm as before.

Sleepers awakened, and thought that what they had heard must be the
confused chimera of a dream. They trembled and turned to sleep again.

All is still--still as the very grave. Not a sound breaks the magic of
repose. What is that--a strange, pattering noise, as of a million of
fairy feet? It is hail--yes, a hail-storm has burst over the city.
Leaves are dashed from the trees, mingled with small boughs; windows
that lie most opposed to the direct fury of the pelting particles of ice
are broken, and the rapt repose that before was so remarkable in its
intensity, is exchanged for a noise which, in its accumulation, drowns
every cry of surprise or consternation which here and there arose from
persons who found their houses invaded by the storm.

Now and then, too, there would come a sudden gust of wind that in its
strength, as it blew laterally, would, for a moment, hold millions of
the hailstones suspended in mid air, but it was only to dash them with
redoubled force in some new direction, where more mischief was to be
done.

Oh, how the storm raged! Hail--rain--wind. It was, in very truth, an
awful night.

* * * * *

There is an antique chamber in an ancient house. Curious and quaint
carvings adorn the walls, and the large chimney-piece is a curiosity of
itself. The ceiling is low, and a large bay window, from roof to floor,
looks to the west. The window is latticed, and filled with curiously
painted glass and rich stained pieces, which send in a strange, yet
beautiful light, when sun or moon shines into the apartment. There is
but one portrait in that room, although the walls seem panelled for the
express purpose of containing a series of pictures. That portrait is of
a young man, with a pale face, a stately brow, and a strange expression
about the eyes, which no one cared to look on twice.

There is a stately bed in that chamber, of carved walnut-wood is it
made, rich in design and elaborate in execution; one of those works of
art which owe their existence to the Elizabethan era. It is hung with
heavy silken and damask furnishing; nodding feathers are at its
corners--covered with dust are they, and they lend a funereal aspect to
the room. The floor is of polished oak.

God! how the hail dashes on the old bay window! Like an occasional
discharge of mimic musketry, it comes clashing, beating, and cracking
upon the small panes; but they resist it--their small size saves them;
the wind, the hail, the rain, expend their fury in vain.

The bed in that old chamber is occupied. A creature formed in all
fashions of loveliness lies in a half sleep upon that ancient couch--a
girl young and beautiful as a spring morning. Her long hair has escaped
from its confinement and streams over the blackened coverings of the
bedstead; she has been restless in her sleep, for the clothing of the
bed is in much confusion. One arm is over her head, the other hangs
nearly off the side of the bed near to which she lies. A neck and bosom
that would have formed a study for the rarest sculptor that ever
Providence gave genius to, were half disclosed. She moaned slightly in
her sleep, and once or twice the lips moved as if in prayer--at least
one might judge so, for the name of Him who suffered for all came once
faintly from them.

She has endured much fatigue, and the storm does not awaken her; but it
can disturb the slumbers it does not possess the power to destroy
entirely. The turmoil of the elements wakes the senses, although it
cannot entirely break the repose they have lapsed into.

Oh, what a world of witchery was in that mouth, slightly parted, and
exhibiting within the pearly teeth that glistened even in the faint
light that came from that bay window. How sweetly the long silken
eyelashes lay upon the cheek. Now she moves, and one shoulder is
entirely visible--whiter, fairer than the spotless clothing of the bed
on which she lies, is the smooth skin of that fair creature, just
budding into womanhood, and in that transition state which presents to
us all the charms of the girl--almost of the child, with the more
matured beauty and gentleness of advancing years.

Was that lightning? Yes--an awful, vivid, terrifying flash--then a
roaring peal of thunder, as if a thousand mountains were rolling one
over the other in the blue vault of Heaven! Who sleeps now in that
ancient city? Not one living soul. The dread trumpet of eternity could
not more effectually have awakened any one.

The hail continues. The wind continues. The uproar of the elements seems
at its height. Now she awakens--that beautiful girl on the antique bed;
she opens those eyes of celestial blue, and a faint cry of alarm bursts
from her lips. At least it is a cry which, amid the noise and turmoil
without, sounds but faint and weak. She sits upon the bed and presses
her hands upon her eyes. Heavens! what a wild torrent of wind, and rain,
and hail! The thunder likewise seems intent upon awakening sufficient
echoes to last until the next flash of forked lightning should again
produce the wild concussion of the air. She murmurs a prayer--a prayer
for those she loves best; the names of those dear to her gentle heart
come from her lips; she weeps and prays; she thinks then of what
devastation the storm must surely produce, and to the great God of
Heaven she prays for all living things. Another flash--a wild, blue,
bewildering flash of lightning streams across that bay window, for an
instant bringing out every colour in it with terrible distinctness. A
shriek bursts from the lips of the young girl, and then, with eyes fixed
upon that window, which, in another moment, is all darkness, and with
such an expression of terror upon her face as it had never before known,
she trembled, and the perspiration of intense fear stood upon her brow.

"What--what was it?" she gasped; "real, or a delusion? Oh, God, what was
it? A figure tall and gaunt, endeavouring from the outside to unclasp
the window. I saw it. That flash of lightning revealed it to me. It
stood the whole length of the window."

There was a lull of the wind. The hail was not falling so
thickly--moreover, it now fell, what there was of it, straight, and yet
a strange clattering sound came upon the glass of that long window. It
could not be a delusion--she is awake, and she hears it. What can
produce it? Another flash of lightning--another shriek--there could be
now no delusion.

A tall figure is standing on the ledge immediately outside the long
window. It is its finger-nails upon the glass that produces the sound so
like the hail, now that the hail has ceased. Intense fear paralysed the
limbs of that beautiful girl. That one shriek is all she can utter--with
hands clasped, a face of marble, a heart beating so wildly in her bosom,
that each moment it seems as if it would break its confines, eyes
distended and fixed upon the window, she waits, froze with horror. The
pattering and clattering of the nails continue. No word is spoken, and
now she fancies she can trace the darker form of that figure against the
window, and she can see the long arms moving to and fro, feeling for
some mode of entrance. What strange light is that which now gradually
creeps up into the air? red and terrible--brighter and brighter it
grows. The lightning has set fire to a mill, and the reflection of the
rapidly consuming building falls upon that long window. There can be no
mistake. The figure is there, still feeling for an entrance, and
clattering against the glass with its long nails, that appear as if the
growth of many years had been untouched. She tries to scream again but a
choking sensation comes over her, and she cannot. It is too
dreadful--she tries to move--each limb seems weighed down by tons of
lead--she can but in a hoarse faint whisper cry,--

"Help--help--help--help!"

And that one word she repeats like a person in a dream. The red glare of
the fire continues. It throws up the tall gaunt figure in hideous relief
against the long window. It shows, too, upon the one portrait that is in
the chamber, and that portrait appears to fix its eyes upon the
attempting intruder, while the flickering light from the fire makes it
look fearfully life-like. A small pane of glass is broken, and the form
from without introduces a long gaunt hand, which seems utterly destitute
of flesh. The fastening is removed, and one-half of the window, which
opens like folding doors, is swung wide open upon its hinges.

And yet now she could not scream--she could not move.
"Help!--help!--help!" was all she could say. But, oh, that look of
terror that sat upon her face, it was dreadful--a look to haunt the
memory for a lifetime--a look to obtrude itself upon the happiest
moments, and turn them to bitterness.

The figure turns half round, and the light falls upon the face. It is
perfectly white--perfectly bloodless. The eyes look like polished tin;
the lips are drawn back, and the principal feature next to those
dreadful eyes is the teeth--the fearful looking teeth--projecting like
those of some wild animal, hideously, glaringly white, and fang-like. It
approaches the bed with a strange, gliding movement. It clashes together
the long nails that literally appear to hang from the finger ends. No
sound comes from its lips. Is she going mad--that young and beautiful
girl exposed to so much terror? she has drawn up all her limbs; she
cannot even now say help. The power of articulation is gone, but the
power of movement has returned to her; she can draw herself slowly along
to the other side of the bed from that towards which the hideous
appearance is coming.

But her eyes are fascinated. The glance of a serpent could not have
produced a greater effect upon her than did the fixed gaze of those
awful, metallic-looking eyes that were bent on her face. Crouching down
so that the gigantic height was lost, and the horrible, protruding,
white face was the most prominent object, came on the figure. What was
it?--what did it want there?--what made it look so hideous--so unlike an
inhabitant of the earth, and yet to be on it?

Now she has got to the verge of the bed, and the figure pauses. It
seemed as if when it paused she lost the power to proceed. The clothing
of the bed was now clutched in her hands with unconscious power. She
drew her breath short and thick. Her bosom heaves, and her limbs
tremble, yet she cannot withdraw her eyes from that marble-looking face.
He holds her with his glittering eye.

The storm has ceased--all is still. The winds are hushed; the church
clock proclaims the hour of one: a hissing sound comes from the throat
of the hideous being, and he raises his long, gaunt arms--the lips move.
He advances. The girl places one small foot from the bed on to the
floor. She is unconsciously dragging the clothing with her. The door of
the room is in that direction--can she reach it? Has she power to
walk?--can she withdraw her eyes from the face of the intruder, and so
break the hideous charm? God of Heaven! is it real, or some dream so
like reality as to nearly overturn the judgment for ever?

The figure has paused again, and half on the bed and half out of it that
young girl lies trembling. Her long hair streams across the entire width
of the bed. As she has slowly moved along she has left it streaming
across the pillows. The pause lasted about a minute--oh, what an age of
agony. That minute was, indeed, enough for madness to do its full work
in.

With a sudden rush that could not be foreseen--with a strange howling
cry that was enough to awaken terror in every breast, the figure seized
the long tresses of her hair, and twining them round his bony hands he
held her to the bed. Then she screamed--Heaven granted her then power to
scream. Shriek followed shriek in rapid succession. The bed-clothes fell
in a heap by the side of the bed--she was dragged by her long silken
hair completely on to it again. Her beautifully rounded limbs quivered
with the agony of her soul. The glassy, horrible eyes of the figure ran
over that angelic form with a hideous satisfaction--horrible
profanation. He drags her head to the bed's edge. He forces it back by
the long hair still entwined in his grasp. With a plunge he seizes her
neck in his fang-like teeth--a gush of blood, and a hideous sucking
noise follows. _The girl has swooned, and the vampyre is at his hideous
repast!_

CHAPTER II.

THE ALARM.--THE PISTOL SHOT.--THE PURSUIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

[Illustration]

Lights flashed about the building, and various room doors opened; voices
called one to the other. There was an universal stir and commotion among
the inhabitants.

"Did you hear a scream, Harry?" asked a young man, half-dressed, as he
walked into the chamber of another about his own age.

"I did--where was it?"

"God knows. I dressed myself directly."