Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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"Heaven forbid! What for?"

"Because I'm his uncle--his d----d old fool of an uncle, that always
thought so much of him."

"Nay, my good sir, that was a fault on the right side, and cannot
discredit you. I thought him the most perfect of human beings."

"Oh, if I could but have guessed this."

"It was impossible. Such duplicity never was equalled in this world--it
was impossible to foresee it."

"Hold--hold! did he give you fifty pounds?"

"What?"

"Did he give you fifty pounds?"

"Give me fifty pounds! Most decidedly not; what made you think of such a
thing?"

"Because to-day he borrowed fifty pounds of me, he said, to lend to
you."

"I never heard of the transaction until this moment."

"The villain!"

"No, doubt, sir, he wanted that amount to expedite his progress abroad."

"Well, now, damme, if an angel had come to me and said 'Hilloa! Admiral
Bell, your nephew, Charles Holland, is a thundering rogue,' I should
have said 'You're a liar!'"

"This is fighting against facts, my dear sir. He is gone--mention him no
more; forget him, as I shall endeavour myself to do, and persuade my
poor sister to do."

"Poor girl! what can we say to her?"

"Nothing, but give her all the letters, and let her be at once satisfied
of the worthlessness of him she loved."

"The best way. Her woman's pride will then come to her help."

"I hope it will. She is of an honourable race, and I am sure she will
not condescend to shed a tear for such a man as Charles Holland has
proved himself to be."

"D--n him, I'll find him out, and make him fight you. He shall give you
satisfaction."

"No, no."

"No? But he shall."

"I cannot fight with him."

"You cannot?"

"Certainly not. He is too far beneath me now. I cannot fight on
honourable terms with one whom I despise as too dishonourable to contend
with. I have nothing now but silence and contempt."

"I have though, for I'll break his neck when I see him, or he shall
break mine. The villain! I'm ashamed to stay here, my young friend."

"How mistaken a view you take of this matter, my dear sir. As Admiral
Bell, a gentleman, a brave officer, and a man of the purest and most
unblemished honour, you confer a distinction upon us by your presence
here."

The admiral wrung Henry by the hand, as he said,--

"To-morrow--wait till to-morrow; we will talk over this matter to
morrow--I cannot to-night, I have not patience; but to-morrow, my dear
boy, we will have it all out. God bless you. Good night."

CHAPTER XXVII.

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

[Illustration]

To describe the feelings of Henry Bannerworth on the occasion of this
apparent defalcation from the path of rectitude and honour by his
friend, as he had fondly imagined Charles Holland to be, would be next
to impossible.

If, as we have taken occasion to say, it be a positive fact, that a
noble and a generous mind feels more acutely any heartlessness of this
description from one on whom it has placed implicit confidence, than the
most deliberate and wicked of injuries from absolute strangers, we can
easily conceive that Henry Bannerworth was precisely the person to feel
most acutely the conduct which all circumstances appeared to fix upon
Charles Holland, upon whose faith, truth, and honour, he would have
staked his very existence but a few short hours before.

With such a bewildered sensation that he scarcely knew where he walked
or whither to betake himself, did he repair to his own chamber, and
there he strove, with what energy he was able to bring to the task, to
find out some excuses, if he could, for Charles's conduct. But he could
find none. View it in what light he would, it presented but a picture of
the most heartless selfishness it had ever been his lot to encounter.

The tone of the letters, too, which Charles had written, materially
aggravated the moral delinquency of which he had been guilty; belief,
far better, had he not attempted an excuse at all than have attempted
such excuses as were there put down in those epistles.

A more cold blooded, dishonourable proceeding could not possibly be
conceived.

It would appear, that while he entertained a doubt with regard to the
reality of the visitation of the vampyre to Flora Bannerworth, he had
been willing to take to himself abundance of credit for the most
honourable feelings, and to induce a belief in the minds of all that an
exalted feeling of honour, as well as a true affection that would know
no change, kept him at the feet of her whom he loved.

Like some braggart, who, when there is no danger, is a very hero, but
who, the moment he feels convinced he will be actually and truly called
upon for an exhibition of his much-vaunted prowess, had Charles Holland
deserted the beautiful girl who, if anything, had now certainly, in her
misfortunes, a far higher claim upon his kindly feeling than before.

Henry could not sleep, although, at the request of George, who offered
to keep watch for him the remainder of the night he attempted to do so.

He in vain said to himself, "I will banish from my mind this most
unworthy subject. I have told Admiral Bell that contempt is the only
feeling I can now have for his nephew, and yet I now find myself
dwelling upon him, and upon his conduct, with a perseverance which is a
foe to my repose."

At length came the welcome and beautiful light of day, and Henry rose
fevered and unrefreshed.

His first impulse now was to hold a consultation with his brother
George, as to what was to be done, and George advised that Mr.
Marchdale, who as yet knew nothing of the matter, should be immediately
informed of it, and consulted, as being probably better qualified than
either of them to come to a just, a cool, and a reasonable opinion upon
the painful circumstance, which it could not be expected that either of
them would be able to view calmly.

"Let it be so, then," said Henry; "Mr. Marchdale shall decide for us."

They at once sought this friend of the family, who was in his own
bed-room, and when Henry knocked at the door, Marchdale opened it
hurriedly, eagerly inquiring what was the matter.

"There is no alarm," said Henry. "We have only come to tell you of a
circumstance which has occurred during the night, and which will
somewhat surprise you."

"Nothing calamitous, I hope?"

"Vexatious; and yet, I think it is a matter upon which we ought almost
to congratulate ourselves. Read those two letters, and give us your
candid opinion upon them."

Henry placed in Mr. Marchdale's hands the letter addressed to himself,
as well as that to the admiral.

Marchdale read them both with marked attention, but he did not exhibit
in his countenance so much surprise as regret.

When he had finished, Henry said to him,--

"Well, Marchdale, what think you of this new and extraordinary episode
in our affairs?"

"My dear young friends," said Marchdale, in a voice of great emotion, "I
know not what to say to you. I have no doubt but that you are both of
you much astonished at the receipt of these letters, and equally so at
the sudden absence of Charles Holland."

"And are not you?"

"Not so much as you, doubtless, are. The fact is, I never did entertain
a favourable opinion of the young man, and he knew it. I have been
accustomed to the study of human nature under a variety of aspects; I
have made it a matter of deep, and I may add, sorrowful, contemplation,
to study and remark those minor shades of character which commonly
escape observation wholly. And, I repeat, I always had a bad opinion of
Charles Holland, which he guessed, and hence he conceived a hatred to
me, which more than once, as you cannot but remember, showed itself in
little acts of opposition and hostility."

"You much surprise me."

"I expected to do so. But you cannot help remembering that at one time I
was on the point of leaving here solely on his account."

"You were so."

"Indeed I should have done so, but that I reasoned with myself upon the
subject, and subdued the impulse of the anger which some years ago, when
I had not seen so much of the world, would have guided me."

"But why did you not impart to us your suspicions? We should at least,
then, have been prepared for such a contingency as has occurred."

"Place yourself in my position, and then yourself what you would have
done. Suspicion is one of those hideous things which all men should be
most specially careful not only how they entertain at all, but how they
give expression to. Besides, whatever may be the amount of one's own
internal conviction with regard to the character of any one, there is
just a possibility that one may be wrong."

"True, true."

"That possibility ought to keep any one silent who has nothing but
suspicion to go upon, however cautious it may make him, as regards his
dealings with the individual. I only suspected from little minute shades
of character, that would peep out in spite of him, that Charles Holland
was not the honourable man he would fain have had everybody believe him
to be."

"And had you from the first such a feeling?"

"I had."

"It is very strange."

"Yes; and what is more strange still, is that he from the first seemed
to know it; and despite a caution which I could see he always kept
uppermost in his thoughts, he could not help speaking tartly to me at
times."

"I have noticed that," said George.

"You may depend it is a fact," added Marchdale, "that nothing so much
excites the deadly and desperate hatred of a man who is acting a
hypocritical part, as the suspicion, well grounded or not, that another
sees and understands the secret impulses of his dishonourable heart."

"I cannot blame you, or any one else, Mr. Marchdale," said Henry, "that
you did not give utterance to your secret thoughts, but I do wish that
you had done so."

"Nay, dear Henry," replied Mr. Marchdale, "believe me, I have made this
matter a subject of deep thought, and have abundance of reasons why I
ought not to have spoken to you upon the subject."

"Indeed!"

"Indeed I have, and not among the least important is the one, that if I
had acquainted you with my suspicions, you would have found yourself in
the painful position of acting a hypocritical part yourself towards this
Charles Holland, for you must either have kept the secret that he was
suspected, or you must have shewn it to him by your behaviour."

"Well, well. I dare say, Marchdale, you acted for the best. What shall
we do now?"

"Can you doubt?"

"I was thinking of letting Flora at once know the absolute and complete
worthlessness of her lover, so that she could have no difficulty in at
once tearing herself from him by the assistance of the natural pride
which would surely come to her aid, upon finding herself so much
deceived."

"The test may be possible."

"You think so?"

"I do, indeed."

"Here is a letter, which of course remains unopened, addressed to Flora
by Charles Holland. The admiral rather thought it would hurt her
feelings to deliver her such an epistle, but I must confess I am of a
contrary opinion upon that point, and think now the more evidence she
has of the utter worthlessness of him who professed to love her with so
much disinterested affection, the better it will be for her."

"You could not, possibly, Henry, have taken a more sensible view of the
subject."

"I am glad you agree with me."

"No reasonable man could do otherwise, and from what I have seen of
Admiral Bell, I am sure, upon reflection, he will be of the same
opinion."

"Then it shall be so. The first shock to poor Flora may be severe, but
we shall then have the consolation of knowing that it is the only one,
and that in knowing the very worst, she has no more on that score to
apprehend. Alas, alas! the hand of misfortune now appears to have
pressed heavily upon us indeed. What in the name of all that is unlucky
and disastrous, will happen next, I wonder?"

"What can happen?" said Marchdale; "I think you have now got rid of the
greatest evil of all--a false friend."

"We have, indeed."

"Go, then, to Flora; assure her that in the affection of others who know
no falsehood, she will find a solace from every ill. Assure her that
there are hearts that will place themselves between her and every
misfortune."

Mr. Marchdale was much affected as he spoke. Probably he felt deeper
than he chose to express the misfortunes of that family for whom he
entertained so much friendship. He turned aside his head to hide the
traces of emotion which, despite even his great powers of self-command,
would shew themselves upon his handsome and intelligent countenance.
Then it appeared as if his noble indignation had got, for a few brief
moments, the better of all prudence, and he exclaimed,--

"The villain! the worse than villain! who would, with a thousand
artifices, make himself beloved by a young, unsuspecting, and beautiful
girl, but then to leave her to the bitterness of regret, that she had
ever given such a man a place in her esteem. The heartless ruffian!"

"Be calm, Mr. Marchdale, I pray you be calm," said George; "I never saw
you so much moved."

"Excuse me," he said, "excuse me; I am much moved, and I am human. I
cannot always, let me strive my utmost, place a curb upon my feelings."

"They are feelings which do you honour."

"Nay, nay, I am foolish to have suffered myself to be led away into such
a hasty expression of them. I am accustomed to feel acutely and to feel
deeply, but it is seldom I am so much overcome as this."

"Will you accompany us to the breakfast room at once, Mr. Marchdale,
where we will make this communication to Flora; you will then be able to
judge by her manner of receiving it, what it will be best to say to
her."

"Come, then, and pray be calm. The least that is said upon this painful
and harassing subject, after this morning, will be the best."

"You are right--you are right."

Mr. Marchdale hastily put on his coat. He was dressed, with the
exception of that one article of apparel, when the brothers came to his
chamber, and then he came to the breakfast-parlour where the painful
communication was to be made to Flora of her lover's faithlessness.

Flora was already seated in that apartment. Indeed, she had been
accustomed to meet Charles Holland there before others of the family
made their appearance, but, alas! this morning the kind and tender lover
was not there.

The expression that sat upon the countenances of her brothers, and of
Mr. Marchdale, was quite sufficient to convince her that something more
serious than usual had occurred, and she at the moment turned very pale.
Marchdale observed this change of change of countenance in her, and he
advanced towards her, saying,--

"Calm yourself, Flora, we have something to communicate to you, but it
is a something which should excite indignation, and no other feeling, in
your breast."

"Brother, what is the meaning of this?" said Flora, turning aside from
Marchdale, and withdrawing the hand which he would have taken.

"I would rather have Admiral Bell here before I say anything," said
Henry, "regarding a matter in which he cannot but feel much interested
personally."

"Here he is," said the admiral, who at that moment had opened the door
of the breakfast room. "Here he is, so now fire away, and don't spare
the enemy."

"And Charles?" said Flora, "where is Charles?"

"D--n Charles!" cried the admiral, who had not been much accustomed to
control his feelings.

"Hush! hush!" said Henry; "my dear sir, bush! do not indulge now in any
invectives. Flora, here are three letters; you will see that the one
which is unopened is addressed to yourself. However, we wish you to read
the whole three of them, and then to form your own free and unbiased
opinion."

Flora looked as pale as a marble statue, when she took the letters into
her hands. She let the two that were open fall on the table before her,
while she eagerly broke the seal of that which was addressed to herself.

[Illustration]

Henry, with an instinctive delicacy, beckoned every one present to the
window, so that Flora had not the pain of feeling that any eyes were
fixed upon her but those of her mother, who had just come into the room,
while she was perusing those documents which told such a tale of
heartless dissimulation.

"My dear child," said Mrs. Bannerworth, "you are ill."

"Hush! mother--hush!" said Flora, "let me know all."

She read the whole of the letters through, and then, as the last one
dropped from her grasp, she exclaimed,--

"Oh, God! oh, God! what is all that has occurred compared to this?
Charles--Charles--Charles!"

"Flora!" exclaimed Henry, suddenly turning from the window. "Flora, is
this worthy of you?"

"Heaven now support me!"

"Is this worthy of the name you bear Flora? I should have thought, and I
did hope, that woman's pride would have supported you."

"Let me implore you," added Marchdale, "to summon indignation to your
aid, Miss Bannerworth."

"Charles--Charles--Charles!" she again exclaimed, as she wrung her hands
despairingly.

"Flora, if anything could add a sting to my already irritated feelings,"
said Henry, "this conduct of yours would."

"Henry--brother, what mean you? Are you mad?"

"Are you, Flora?"

"God, I wish now that I was."

"You have read those letters, and yet you call upon the name of him who
wrote them with frantic tenderness."

"Yes, yes," she cried; "frantic tenderness is the word. It is with
frantic tenderness I call upon his name, and ever will.--Charles!
Charles!--dear Charles!"

"This surpasses all belief," said Marchdale.

"It is the frenzy of grief," added George; "but I did not expect it of
her. Flora--Flora, think again."

"Think--think--the rush of thought distracts. Whence came these
letters?--where did you find these most disgraceful forgeries?"

"Forgeries!" exclaimed Henry; and he staggered back, as if some one bad
struck him a blow.

"Yes, forgeries!" screamed Flora. "What has become of Charles Holland?
Has he been murdered by some secret enemy, and then these most vile
fabrications made up in his name? Oh, Charles, Charles, are you lost to
me for ever?"

"Good God!" said Henry; "I did not think of that"

"Madness!--madness!" cried Marchdale.

"Hold!" shouted the admiral. "Let me speak to her."

He pushed every one aside, and advanced to Flora. He seized both her
hands in his own, and in a tone of voice that was struggling with
feeling, he cried,--

"Look at me, my dear; I'm an old man old enough to be your grandfather,
so you needn't mind looking me steadily in the face. Look at me, I want
to ask you a question."

Flora raised her beautiful eyes, and looked the old weather-beaten
admiral full in the face.

Oh! what a striking contrast did those two persons present to each
other. That young and beautiful girl, with her small, delicate,
childlike hands clasped, and completely hidden in the huge ones of the
old sailor, the white, smooth skin contrasting wonderfully with his
wrinkled, hardened features.

"My dear," he cried, "you have read those--those d----d letters, my
dear?"

"I have, sir."

"And what do you think of them?"

"They were not written by Charles Holland, your nephew."

A choking sensation seemed to come over the old man, and he tried to
speak, but in vain. He shook the hands of the young girl violently,
until he saw that he was hurting her, and then, before she could be
aware of what he was about, he gave her a kiss on the cheek, as he
cried,--

"God bless you--God bless you! You are the sweetest, dearest little
creature that ever was, or that ever will be, and I'm a d----d old fool,
that's what I am. These letters were not written by my nephew, Charles.
He is incapable of writing them, and, d--n me, I shall take shame to
myself as long as I live for ever thinking so."

"Dear sir," said Flora, who somehow or another did not seem at all
offended at the kiss which the old man had given her; "dear sir, how
could you believe, for one moment, that they came from him? There has
been some desperate villany on foot. Where is he?--oh, find him, if he
be yet alive. If they who have thus striven to steal from him that
honour, which is the jewel of his heart, have murdered him, seek them
out, sir, in the sacred name of justice, I implore you."

"I will--I will. I don't renounce him; he is my nephew still--Charles
Holland--my own dear sister's son; and you are the best girl, God bless
you, that ever breathed. He loved you--he loves you still; and if he's
above ground, poor fellow, he shall yet tell you himself he never saw
those infamous letters."

"You--you will seek for him?" sobbed Flora, and the tears gushed from
her eyes. "Upon you, sir, who, as I do, feel assured of his innocence, I
alone rely. If all the world say he is guilty, we will not think so."

"I'm d----d if we do."

Henry had sat down by the table, and, with his hands clasped together,
seemed in an agony of thought.

He was now roused by a thump on the back by the admiral, who cried,--

"What do you think, now, old fellow? D--n it, things look a little
different now."

"As God is my judge," said Henry, holding up his hands, "I know not what
to think, but my heart and feelings all go with you and with Flora, in
your opinion of the innocence of Charles Holland."

"I knew you would say that, because you could not possibly help it, my
dear boy. Now we are all right again, and all we have got to do is to
find out which way the enemy has gone, and then give chase to him."

"Mr. Marchdale, what do you think of this new suggestion," said George
to that gentleman.

"Pray, excuse me," was his reply; "I would much rather not be called
upon to give an opinion."

"Why, what do you mean by that?" said the admiral.

"Precisely what I say, sir."

"D--n me, we had a fellow once in the combined fleets, who never had an
opinion till after something had happened, and then he always said that
was just what he thought."

"I was never in the combined, or any other fleet, sir," said Marchdale,
coldly.

"Who the devil said you were?" roared the admiral.

Marchdale merely hawed.

"However," added the admiral, "I don't care, and never did, for
anybody's opinion, when I know I am right. I'd back this dear girl here
for opinions, and good feelings, and courage to express them, against
all the world, I would, any day. If I was not the old hulk I am, I would
take a cruise in any latitude under the sun, if it was only for the
chance of meeting with just such another."

"Oh, lose no time!" said Flora. "If Charles is not to be found in the
house, lose no time in searching for him, I pray you; seek him, wherever
there is the remotest probability he may chance to be. Do not let him
think he is deserted."

"Not a bit of it," cried the admiral. "You make your mind easy, my dear.
If he's above ground, we shall find him out, you may depend upon it.
Come along master Henry, you and I will consider what had best be done
in this uncommonly ugly matter."

Henry and George followed the admiral from the breakfast-room, leaving
Marchdale there, who looked serious and full of melancholy thought.

It was quite clear that he considered Flora had spoken from the generous
warmth of her affection as regarded Charles Holland, and not from the
convictions which reason would have enforced her to feel.

When he was now alone with her and Mrs. Bannerworth, he spoke in a
feeling and affectionate tone regarding the painful and inexplicable
events which had transpired.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

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

[Illustration]

It was, perhaps, very natural that, with her feelings towards Charles
Holland, Flora should shrink from every one who seemed to be of a
directly contrary impression, and when Mr. Marchdale now spoke, she
showed but little inclination to hear what he had to say in explanation.

The genuine and unaffected manner, however, in which he spoke, could not
but have its effect upon her, and she found herself compelled to listen,
as well as, to a great extent, approve of the sentiments that fell from
his lips.

"Flora," he said, "I beg that you will here, in the presence of your
mother, give me a patient hearing. You fancy that, because I cannot join
so glibly as the admiral in believing that these letters are forgeries,
I must be your enemy."

"Those letters," said Flora, "were not written by Charles Holland."

"That is your opinion."

"It is more than an opinion. He could not write them."

"Well, then, of course, if I felt inclined, which Heaven alone knows I
do not, I could not hope successfully to argue against such a
conviction. But I do not wish to do so. All I want to impress upon you
is, that I am not to be blamed for doubting his innocence; and, at the
same time, I wish to assure you that no one in this house would feel
more exquisite satisfaction than I in seeing it established."

"I thank you for so much," said Flora; "but as, to my mind, his
innocence has never been doubted, it needs to me no establishing."