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Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

T >> Thomas Preskett Prest >> Varney the Vampire




"Have circumstances really so far pressed upon you," said Charles
Holland, "as at length to convince you that this man is really the
horrible creature we surmise he may be?"

"Dare we longer doubt it?" cried Henry, in a tone of excitement. "He is
the vampyre."

"I'll be hanged if I believe it," said Admiral Bell! "Stuff and
nonsense! Vampyre, indeed! Bother the vampyre."

"Sir," said Henry, "you have not had brought before you, painfully, as
we have, all the circumstances upon which we, in a manner, feel
compelled to found this horrible belief. At first incredulity was a
natural thing. We had no idea that ever we could be brought to believe
in such a thing."

"That is the case," added Marchdale. "But, step by step, we have been
driven from utter disbelief in this phenomenon to a trembling conviction
that it must be true."

"Unless we admit that, simultaneously, the senses of a number of persons
have been deceived."

"That is scarcely possible."

"Then do you mean really to say there are such fish?" said the admiral.

"We think so."

"Well, I'm d----d! I have heard all sorts of yarns about what fellows
have seen in one ocean and another; but this does beat them all to
nothing."

"It is monstrous," exclaimed Charles.

There was a pause of some few moments' duration, and then Mr. Marchdale
said, in a low voice,--

"Perhaps I ought not to propose any course of action until you, Henry,
have yourself done so; but even at the risk of being presumptuous, I
will say that I am firmly of opinion you ought to leave the Hall."

"I am inclined to think so, too," said Henry.

"But the creditors?" interposed Charles.

"I think they might be consulted on the matter beforehand," added
Marchdale, "when no doubt they would acquiesce in an arrangement which
could do them no harm."

"Certainly, no harm," said Henry, "for I cannot take the estate with me,
as they well know."

"Precisely. If you do not like to sell it, you can let it."

"To whom?"

"Why, under the existing circumstances, it is not likely you would get
any tenant for it than the one who has offered himself."

"Sir Francis Varney?"

"Yes. It seems to be a great object with him to live here, and it
appears to me, that notwithstanding all that has occurred, it is most
decidedly the best policy to let him."

Nobody could really deny the reasonableness of this advice, although it
seemed strange, and was repugnant to the feelings of them all, as they
heard it. There was a pause of some seconds' duration, and then Henry
said,--

"It does, indeed, seem singular, to surrender one's house to such a
being."

"Especially," said Charles, "after what has occurred."

"True."

"Well," said Mr. Marchdale, "if any better plan of proceeding, taking
the whole case into consideration, can be devised, I shall be most
happy."

"Will you consent to put off all proceedings for three days?" said
Charles Holland, suddenly.

"Have you any plan, my dear sir?" said Mr. Marchdale.

"I have, but it is one which I would rather say nothing about for the
present."

"I have no objection," said Henry, "I do not know that three days can
make any difference in the state of affairs. Let it be so, if you wish,
Charles."

"Then I am satisfied," said Charles. "I cannot but feel that, situated
as I am regarding Flora, this is almost more my affair than even yours,
Henry."

"I cannot see that," said Henry. "Why should you take upon yourself more
of the responsibility of these affairs than I, Charles? You induce in my
mind a suspicion that you have some desperate project in your
imagination, which by such a proposition you would seek to reconcile me
to."

Charles was silent, and Henry then added,--

"Now, Charles, I am quite convinced that what I have hinted at is the
fact. You have conceived some scheme which you fancy would be much
opposed by us?"

"I will not deny that I have," said Charles. "It is one, however, which
you must allow me for the present to keep locked in my own breast."

"Why will you not trust us?"

"For two reasons."

"Indeed!"

"The one is, that I have not yet thoroughly determined upon the course I
project; and the other is, that it is one in which I am not justified in
involving any one else."

"Charles, Charles," said Henry, despondingly; "only consider for a
moment into what new misery you may plunge poor Flora, who is, Heaven
knows, already sufficiently afflicted, by attempting an enterprise which
even we, who are your friends, may unwittingly cross you in the
performance of."

"This is one in which I fear no such result. It cannot so happen. Do not
urge me."

"Can't you say at once what you think of doing?" said the old admiral.
"What do you mean by turning your sails in all sorts of directions so
oddly? You sneak, why don't you be what do you call it--explicit?"

"I cannot, uncle."

"What, are you tongue-tied?"

"All here know well," said Charles, "that if I do not unfold my mind
fully, it is not that I fear to trust any one present, but from some
other most special reason."

"Charles, I forbear to urge you further," said Henry, "and only implore
you to be careful."

At this moment the room door opened, and George Bannerworth, accompanied
by Mr. Chillingworth, came in.

"Do not let me intrude," said the surgeon; "I fear, as I see you seated,
gentlemen, that my presence must be a rudeness and a disturbance to some
family consultation among yourselves?"

"Not at all, Mr. Chillingworth," said Henry. "Pray be seated; we are
very glad indeed to see you. Admiral Bell, this is a friend on whom we
can rely--Mr. Chillingworth."

"And one of the right sort, I can see," said the admiral, as he shook
Mr. Chillingworth by the hand.

"Sir, you do me much honour," said the doctor.

"None at all, none at all; I suppose you know all about this infernal
odd vampyre business?"

"I believe I do, sir."

"And what do you think of it?"

"I think time will develop the circumstances sufficiently to convince us
all that such things cannot be."

"D--n me, you are the most sensible fellow, then, that I have yet met
with since I have been in this neighbourhood; for everybody else is so
convinced about the vampyre, that they are ready to swear by him."

"It would take much more to convince me. I was coming over here when I
met Mr. George Bannerworth coming to my house."

"Yes," said George, "and Mr. Chillingworth has something to tell us of a
nature confirmatory of our own suspicions."

"It is strange," said Henry; "but any piece of news, come it from what
quarter it may, seems to be confirmatory, in some degree or another, of
that dreadful belief in vampyres."

"Why," said the doctor, "when Mr. George says that my news is of such a
character, I think he goes a little too far. What I have to tell you, I
do not conceive has anything whatever to do with the fact, or one fact
of there being vampyres."

"Let us hear it," said Henry.

"It is simply this, that I was sent for by Sir Francis Varney myself."

"You sent for?"

"Yes; he sent for me by a special messenger to come to him, and when I
went, which, under the circumstances, you may well guess, I did with all
the celerity possible, I found it was to consult me about a flesh wound
in his arm, which was showing some angry symptoms."

"Indeed."

"Yes, it was so. When I was introduced to him I found him lying on a
couch, and looking pale and unwell. In the most respectful manner, he
asked me to be seated, and when I had taken a chair, he added,--

"'Mr. Chillingworth, I have sent for you in consequence of a slight
accident which has happened to my arm. I was incautiously loading some
fire-arms, and discharged a pistol so close to me that the bullet
inflicted a wound on my arm.'

"'If you will allow me," said I, 'to see the wound, I will give you my
opinion.'

"He then showed me a jagged wound, which had evidently been caused by
the passage of a bullet, which, had it gone a little deeper, must have
inflicted serious injury. As it was, the wound was but trifling.

"He had evidently been attempting to dress it himself, but finding some
considerable inflammation, he very likely got a little alarmed."

"You dressed the wound?"

"I did."

"And what do you think of Sir Francis Varney, now that you have had so
capital an opportunity," said Henry, "of a close examination of him?"

"Why, there is certainly something odd about him which I cannot well
define, but, take him altogether, he can be a very gentlemanly man
indeed."

"So he can."

"His manners are easy and polished; he has evidently mixed in good
society, and I never, in all my life, heard such a sweet, soft, winning
voice."

"That is strictly him. You noticed, I presume, his great likeness to the
portrait on the panel?"

"I did. At some moments, and viewing his face in some particular lights,
it showed much more strongly than at others. My impression was that he
could, when he liked, look much more like the portrait on the panel than
when he allowed his face to assume its ordinary appearance."

"Probably such an impression would be produced upon your mind," said
Charles, "by some accidental expression of the countenance which even he
was not aware of, and which often occurs in families."

"It may be so."

"Of course you did not hint, sir, at what has passed here with regard to
him?" said Henry.

"I did not. Being, you see, called in professionally, I had no right to
take advantage of that circumstance to make any remarks to him about his
private affairs."

"Certainly not."

"It was all one to me whether he was a vampyre or not, professionally,
and however deeply I might feel, personally, interested in the matter, I
said nothing to him about it, because, you see, if I had, he would have
had a fair opportunity of saying at once, 'Pray, sir, what is that to
you?' and I should have been at a loss what to reply."

"Can we doubt," said Henry, "but that this very wound has been inflicted
upon Sir Francis Varney, by the pistol-bullet which was discharged at
him by Flora?"

"Everything leads to such an assumption certainly," said Charles
Holland.

"And yet you cannot even deduce from that the absolute fact of Sir
Francis Varney being a vampyre?"

"I do not think, Mr. Chillingworth," said Marchdale, "anything would
convince you but a visit from him, and an actual attempt to fasten upon
some of your own veins."

"That would not convince me," said Chillingworth.

"Then you will not be convinced?"

"I certainly will not. I mean to hold out to the last. I said at the
first, and I say so still, that I never will give way to this most
outrageous superstition."

"I wish I could think with you," said Marchdale, with a shudder; "but
there may be something in the very atmosphere of this house which has
been rendered hideous by the awful visits that have been made to it,
which forbids me to disbelieve in those things which others more happily
situated can hold at arm's length, and utterly repudiate."

"There may be," said Henry; "but as to that, I think, after the very
strongly expressed wish of Flora, I will decide upon leaving the house."

"Will you sell it or let it?"

"The latter I should much prefer," was the reply.

"But who will take it now, except Sir Francis Varney? Why not at once
let him have it? I am well aware that this does sound odd advice, but
remember, we are all the creatures of circumstances, and that, in some
cases where we least like it, we must swim with the stream."

"That you will not decide upon, however, at present," said Charles
Holland, as he rose.

"Certainly not; a few days can make no difference."

"None for the worse, certainly, and possibly much for the better."

"Be it so; we will wait."

"Uncle," said Charles, "will you spare me half an hour of your company?"

"An hour, my boy, if you want it," said the admiral, rising from his
chair.

"Then this consultation is over," said Henry, "and we quite understand
that to leave the Hall is a matter determined on, and that in a few days
a decision shall be come to as to whether Varney the Vampyre shall be
its tenant or not."




CHAPTER XXIII.

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


[Illustration]

When Charles Holland got his uncle into a room by themselves, he said,--

"Uncle, you are a seaman, and accustomed to decide upon matters of
honour. I look upon myself as having been most grievously insulted by
this Sir Francis Varney. All accounts agree in representing him as a
gentleman. He goes openly by a title, which, if it were not his, could
easily be contradicted; therefore, on the score of position in life,
there is no fault to find with him. What would you do if you were
insulted by a gentleman?"

The old admiral's eyes sparkled, and he looked comically in the face of
Charles, as he said,--

"I know now where you are steering."

"What would you do, uncle?"

"Fight him!"

"I knew you would say so, and that's just what I want to do as regards
Sir Francis Varney."

"Well, my boy, I don't know that you can do better. He must be a
thundering rascal, whether he is a vampyre or not; so if you feel that
he has insulted you, fight him by all means, Charles."

"I am much pleased, uncle, to find that you take my view of the
subject," said Charles. "I knew that if I mentioned such a thing to the
Bannerworths, they would endeavour all in their power to pursuade me
against it."

"Yes, no doubt; because they are all impressed with a strange fear of
this fellow's vampyre powers. Besides, if a man is going to fight, the
fewer people he mentions it to most decidedly the better, Charles."

"I believe that is the fact, uncle. Should I overcome Varney, there will
most likely be at once an end to the numerous and uncomfortable
perplexities of the Bannerworths as regards him; and if he overcome me,
why, then, at all events, I shall have made an effort to rescue Flora
from the dread of this man."

"And then he shall fight me," added the admiral, "so he shall have two
chances, at all events, Charles."

"Nay, uncle, that would, you know, scarcely be fair. Besides, if I
should fall, I solemnly bequeath Flora Bannerworth to your good offices.
I much fear that the pecuniary affairs of poor Henry,--from no fault of
his, Heaven knows,--are in a very bad state, and that Flora may yet live
to want some kind and able friend."

"Never fear, Charles. The young creature shall never want while the old
admiral has got a shot in the locker."

"Thank you, uncle, thank you. I have ample cause to know, and to be able
to rely upon your kind and generous nature. And now about the
challenge?"

"You write it, boy, and I'll take it."

"Will you second me, uncle?"

"To be sure I will. I wouldn't trust anybody else to do so on any
account. You leave all the arrangements with me, and I'll second you as
you ought to be seconded."

"Then I will write it at once, for I have received injuries at the hands
of that man, or devil, be he what he may, that I cannot put up with. His
visit to the chamber of her whom I love would alone constitute ample
ground of action."

"I should say it rather would, my boy."

"And after this corroborative story of the wound, I cannot for a moment
doubt that Sir Francis Varney is the vampyre, or the personifier of the
vampyre."

"That's clear enough, Charles. Come, just you write your challenge, my
boy, at once, and let me have it."

"I will, uncle."

Charles was a little astonished, although pleased, at his uncle's ready
acquiescence in his fighting a vampyre, but that circumstance he
ascribed to the old man's habits of life, which made him so familiar
with strife and personal contentions of all sorts, that he did not
ascribe to it that amount of importance which more peaceable people did.
Had he, while he was writing the note to Sir Francis Varney, seen the
old admiral's face, and the exceedingly cunning look it wore, he might
have suspected that the acquiescence in the duel was but a seeming
acquiescence. This, however, escaped him, and in a few moments he read
to his uncle the following note:--

"To SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

"Sir,--The expressions made use of towards me by you, as well as
general circumstances, which I need not further allude to here,
induce me to demand of you that satisfaction due from one
gentleman to another. My uncle, Admiral Bell, is the bearer of
this note, and will arrange preliminaries with any friend you may
choose to appoint to act in your behalf. I am, sir, yours, &c.

"CHARLES HOLLAND."

"Will that do?" said Charles.

"Capital!" said the admiral.

"I am glad you like it."

"Oh, I could not help liking it. The least said and the most to the
purpose, always pleases me best; and this explains nothing, and demands
all you want--which is a fight; so it's all right, you see, and nothing
can be possibly better."

Charles did glance in his uncle's face, for he suspected, from the
manner in which these words were uttered, that the old man was amusing
himself a little at his expense. The admiral, however, looked so
supernaturally serious that Charles was foiled.

"I repeat, it's a capital letter," he said.

"Yes, you said so."

"Well, what are you staring at?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Do you doubt my word?"

"Not at all, uncle; only I thought there was a degree of irony in the
manner in which you spoke."

"None at all, my boy. I never was more serious in all my life."

"Very good. Then you will remember that I leave my honour in this affair
completely in your hands."

"Depend upon me, my boy."

"I will, and do."

"I'll be off and see the fellow at once."

The admiral bustled out of the room, and in a few moments Charles heard
him calling loudly,--

"Jack--Jack Pringle, you lubber, where are you?--Jack Pringle, I say."

"Ay, ay, sir," said Jack, emerging from the kitchen, where he had been
making himself generally useful in assisting Mrs. Bannerworth, there
being no servant in the house, to cook some dinner for the family.

"Come on, you rascal, we are going for a walk."

"The rations will be served out soon," growled Jack.

"We shall be back in time, you cormorant, never fear. You are always
thinking of eating and drinking, you are, Jack; and I'll be hanged if I
think you ever think of anything else. Come on, will you; I'm going on
rather a particular cruise just now, so mind what you are about."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the tar, and these two originals, who so perfectly
understood each other, walked away, conversing as they went, and their
different voices coming upon the ear of Charles, until distance
obliterated all impression of the sound.

Charles paced to and fro in the room where he had held this brief and
conclusive conversation with his uncle. He was thoughtful, as any one
might well be who knew not but that the next four-and-twenty hours would
be the limit of his sojourn in this world.

"Oh, Flora--Flora!" he at length said, "how happy we might to have been
together--how happy we might have been! but all is past now, and there
seems nothing left us but to endure. There it but one chance, and that
is in my killing this fearful man who is invested with so dreadful an
existence. And if I do kill him in fair and in open fight, I will take
care that his mortal frame has no power again to revisit the glimpses of
the moon."

It was strange to imagine that such was the force of many concurrent
circumstances, that a young man like Charles Holland, of first-rate
abilities and education, should find it necessary to give in so far to a
belief which was repugnant to all his best feelings and habits of
thought, as to be reasoning with himself upon the best means of
preventing the resuscitation of the corpse of a vampyre. But so it was.
His imagination had yielded to a succession of events which very few
persons indeed could have held out against.

"I have heard and read," he said, as he continued his agitated and
uneasy walk, "of how these dreadful beings are to be in their graves. I
have heard of stakes being driven through the body so as to pin it to
the earth until the gradual progress of decay has rendered its
revivification a thing of utter and total impossibility. Then, again,"
he added, after a slight pause, "I have heard of their being burned, and
the ashes gathered to the winds of Heaven to prevent them from ever
again uniting or assuming human form."

[Illustration]

These were disagreeable and strange fancies, and he shuddered while he
indulged in them. He felt a kind of trembling horror come over him even
at the thought of engaging in conflict with a being, who perhaps, had
lived more than a hundred years.

"That portrait," he thought, "on the panel, is the portrait of a man in
the prime of life. If it be the portrait of Sir Francis Varney, by the
date which the family ascribe to it he must be nearly one hundred and
fifty years of age now."

This was a supposition which carried the imagination to a vast amount of
strange conjectures.

"What changes he must have witnessed about him in that time," thought
Charles. "How he must have seen kingdoms totter and fall, and how many
changes of habits, of manners, and of customs must he have become a
spectator of. Renewing too, ever and anon, his fearful existence by such
fearful means."

This was a wide field of conjecture for a fertile imagination, and now
that he was on the eve of engaging with such a being in mortal combat,
on behalf of her he loved, the thoughts it gave rise to came more
strongly and thickly upon him than ever they had done before.

"But I will fight him," he suddenly said, "for Flora's sake, were he a
hundred times more hideous a being than so many evidences tend to prove
him. I will fight with him, and it may be my fate to rid the world of
such a monster in human form."

Charles worked himself up to a kind of enthusiasm by which he almost
succeeded in convincing himself that, in attempting the destruction of
Sir Francis Varney, he was the champion of human nature.

It would be aside from the object of these pages, which is to record
facts as they occurred, to enter into the metaphysical course of
reasoning which came across Charles's mind; suffice it to say that he
felt nothing shaken as regarded his resolve to meet Varney the Vampyre,
and that he made up his mind the conflict should be one of life or
death.

"It must be so," he said. "It must be so. Either he or I must fall in
the fight which shall surely be."

He now sought Flora, for how soon might he now be torn from her for ever
by the irresistible hand of death. He felt that, during the few brief
hours which now would only elapse previous to his meeting with Sir
Francis Varney, he could not enjoy too much of the society of her who
reigned supreme in his heart, and held in her own keeping his best
affections.

But while Charles is thus employed, let us follow his uncle and Jack
Pringle to the residence of Varney, which, as the reader is aware, was
so near at hand that it required not many minutes' sharp walking to
reach it.

The admiral knew well he could trust Jack with any secret, for long
habits of discipline and deference to the orders of superiors takes off
the propensity to blabbing which, among civilians who are not accustomed
to discipline, is so very prevalent. The old man therefore explained to
Jack what he meant to do, and it received Jack's full approval; but as
in the enforced detail of other matters it must come out, we will not
here prematurely enter into the admiral's plans.

When they reached the residence of Sir Francis Varney, they were
received courteously enough, and the admiral desired Jack to wait for
him in the handsome hall of the house, while he was shewn up stairs to
the private room of the vampyre.

"Confound the fellow!" muttered the old admiral, "he is well lodged at
all events. I should say he was not one of those sort of vampyres who
have nowhere to go to but their own coffins when the evening comes."

The room into which the admiral was shewn had green blinds to it, and
they were all drawn down. It is true that the sun was shining brightly
outside, although transiently, but still a strange green tinge was
thrown over everything in the room, and more particularly did it appear
to fall upon the face of Varney, converting his usually sallow
countenance into a still more hideous and strange colour. He was sitting
upon a couch, and, when the admiral came in, he rose, and said, in a
deep-toned voice, extremely different to that he usually spoke in,--

"My humble home is much honoured, sir, by your presence in it."

"Good morning," said the admiral. "I have come to speak to you, sir,
rather seriously."

"However abrupt this announcement may sound to me," said Varney, "I am
quite sure I shall always hear, with the most profound respect, whatever
Admiral Bell may have to say."

"There is no respect required," said the admiral, "but only a little
attention."

Sir Francis bowed in a stately manner, saying,--

"I shall be quite unhappy if you will not be seated, Admiral Bell."

"Oh, never mind that, Sir Francis Varney, if you be Sir Francis Varney;
for you may be the devil himself, for all I know. My nephew, Charles
Holland, considers that, one way and another, he has a very tolerable
quarrel with you."

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