Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

T >> Thomas Preskett Prest >> Varney the Vampire

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73

Hopeless as Mr. Chillingworth thought it was to interfere with any
degree of effect in the proceedings of the mob, he still could not
reconcile it to himself to be absent from a scene which he now felt
certain had been produced by his own imprudence, so he went on with the
crowd, endeavouring, as he did so, by every argument that could be
suggested to him to induce them to abstain from the acts of violence
they contemplated. He had a hope, too, that when they reached Sir
Francis Varney's, finding him not within, as probably would be the case,
as by that time he would have started to meet Henry Bannerworth on the
ground, to fight the duel, he might induce the mob to return and forego
their meditated violence.

And thus was it that, urged on by a multitude of persons, the unhappy
surgeon was expiating, both in mind and person, the serious mistakes he
had committed in trusting a secret to his wife.

Let it not be supposed that we for one moment wish to lay down a general
principle as regards the confiding secrets to ladies, because from the
beginning of the world it has become notorious how well they keep them,
and with what admirable discretion, tact, and forethought this fairest
portion of humanity conduct themselves.

We know how few Mrs. Chillingworths there are in the world, and have but
to regret that our friend the doctor should, in his matrimonial
adventure, have met with such a specimen.

CHAPTER XL.

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

[Illustration]

Such, then, were the circumstances which at once altered the whole
aspect of the affairs, and, from private and domestic causes of very
deep annoyance, led to public results of a character which seemed likely
to involve the whole country-side in the greatest possible confusion.

But while we blame Mr. Chillingworth for being so indiscreet as to
communicate the secret of such a person as Varney the vampyre to his
wife, we trust in a short time to be enabled to show that he made as
much reparation as it was possible to make for the mischief he had
unintentionally committed. And now as he struggled onward--apparently
onward--first and foremost among the rioters, he was really doing all in
his power to quell that tumult which superstition and dread had raised.

Human nature truly delights in the marvellous, and in proportion as a
knowledge of the natural phenomena of nature is restricted, and
unbridled imagination allowed to give the rein to fathomless conjecture,
we shall find an eagerness likewise to believe the marvellous to be the
truth.

That dim and uncertain condition concerning vampyres, originating
probably as it had done in Germany, had spread itself slowly, but
insidiously, throughout the whole of the civilized world.

In no country and in no clime is there not something which bears a kind
of family relationship to the veritable vampyre of which Sir Francis
Varney appeared to be so choice a specimen.

The _ghoul_ of eastern nations is but the same being, altered to suit
habits and localities; and the _sema_ of the Scandinavians is but the
vampyre of a more primitive race, and a personification of that morbid
imagination which has once fancied the probability of the dead walking
again among the living, with all the frightful insignia of corruption
and the grave about them.

Although not popular in England, still there had been tales told of such
midnight visitants, so that Mrs. Chillingworth, when she had imparted
the information which she had obtained, had already some rough material
to work upon in the minds of her auditors, and therefore there was no
great difficulty in very soon establishing the fact.

Under such circumstances, ignorant people always do what they have heard
has been done by some one else before them and in an incredibly short
space of time the propriety of catching Sir Francis Varney, depriving
him of his vampyre-like existence, and driving a stake through his body,
became not at all a questionable proposition.

Alas, poor Mr. Chillingworth! as well might he have attempted King
Canute's task of stemming the waves of the ocean as that of attempting
to stop the crowd from proceeding to Sir Francis Varney's house.

His very presence was a sort of confirmation of the whole affair. In
vain he gesticulated, in vain he begged and prayed that they would go
back, and in vain he declared that full and ample justice should be done
upon the vampyre, provided popular clamour spared him, and he was left
to more deliberate judgment.

Those who were foremost in the throng paid no attention to these
remonstrances while those who were more distant heard them not, and, for
all they knew, he might be urging the crowd on to violence, instead of
deprecating it.

Thus, then, this disorderly rabble soon reached the house of Sir Francis
Varney and loudly demanded of his terrified servant where he was to be
found.

The knocking at the Hall door was prodigious, and, with a laudable
desire, doubtless, of saving time, the moment one was done amusing
himself with the ponderous knocker, another seized it; so that until the
door was flung open by some of the bewildered and terrified men, there
was no cessation whatever of the furious demands for admittance.

"Varney the vampyre--Varney the vampyre!" cried a hundred voices. "Death
to the vampyre! Where is he? Bring him out. Varney the vampyre!"

The servants were too terrified to speak for some moments, as they saw
such a tumultuous assemblage seeking their master, while so singular a
name was applied to him. At length, one more bold than the rest
contrived to stammer out,--

"My good people, Sir Francis Varney is not at home. He took an early
breakfast, and has been out nearly an hour."

The mob paused a moment in indecision, and then one of the foremost
cried,--

"Who'd suppose they'd own he was at home? He's hiding somewhere of
course; let's pull him out."

"Ah, pull him out--pull him out!" cried many voices. A rush was made
into the hall and in a very few minutes its chambers were ransacked, and
all its hidden places carefully searched, with the hope of discovering
the hidden form of Sir Francis Varney.

The servants felt that, with their inefficient strength, to oppose the
proceedings of an assemblage which seemed to be unchecked by all sort of
law or reason, would be madness; they therefore only looked on, with
wonder and dismay, satisfied certainly in their own minds that Sir
Francis would not be found, and indulging in much conjecture as to what
would be the result of such violent and unexpected proceedings.

Mr. Chillingworth hoped that time was being gained, and that some sort
of indication of what was going on would reach the unhappy object of
popular detestation sufficiently early to enable him to provide for his
own safety.

He knew he was breaking his own engagement to be present at the duel
between Henry Bannerworth and Sir Francis Varney, and, as that thought
recurred to him, he dreaded that his professional services might be
required on one side or the other; for he knew, or fancied he knew, that
mutual hatred dictated the contest; and he thought that if ever a duel
had taken place which was likely to be attended with some disastrous
result, that was surely the one.

But how could he leave, watched and surrounded as he was by an
infuriated multitude--how could he hope but that his footsteps would be
dogged, or that the slightest attempt of his to convey a warning to Sir
Francis Varney, would not be the means of bringing down upon his head
the very danger he sought to shield him from.

In this state of uncertainty, then, did our medical man remain, a prey
to the bitterest reflections, and full of the direst apprehensions,
without having the slightest power of himself to alter so disastrous a
train of circumstances.

Dissatisfied with their non-success, the crowd twice searched the house
of Sir Francis Varney, from the attics to the basement; and then, and
not till then, did they begin reluctantly to believe that the servants
must have spoken the truth.

"He's in the town somewhere," cried one. "Let's go back to the town."

It is strange how suddenly any mob will obey any impulse, and this
perfectly groundless supposition was sufficient to turn their steps back
again in the direction whence they came, and they had actually, in a
straggling sort of column, reached halfway towards the town, when they
encountered a boy, whose professional pursuit consisted in tending sheep
very early of a morning, and who at once informed them that he had seen
Sir Francis Varney in the wood, half way between Bannerworth Hall and
his own home.

This event at once turned the whole tide again, and with renewed
clamours, carrying Mr. Chillingworth along with them, they now rapidly
neared the real spot, where, probably, had they turned a little earlier,
they would have viewed the object of their suspicion and hatred.

But, as we have already recorded, the advancing throng was seen by the
parties on the ground, where the duel could scarcely have been said to
have been fought; and then had Sir Francis Varney dashed into the wood,
which was so opportunely at hand to afford him a shelter from his
enemies, and from the intricacies of which--well acquainted with them as
he doubtless was,--he had every chance of eluding their pursuit.

The whole affair was a great surprise to Henry and his friends, when
they saw such a string of people advancing, with such shouts and
imprecations; they could not, for the life of them, imagine what could
have excited such a turn out among the ordinarily industrious and quiet
inhabitants of a town, remarkable rather for the quietude and steadiness
of its population, than for any violent outbreaks of popular feeling.

"What can Mr. Chillingworth be about," said Henry, "to bring such a mob
here? has he taken leave of his senses?"

"Nay," said Marchdale; "look again; he seems to be trying to keep them
back, although ineffectually, for they will not be stayed."

"D----e," said the admiral, "here's a gang of pirates; we shall be
boarded and carried before we know where we are, Jack."

"Ay ay, sir," said Jack.

"And is that all you've got to say, you lubber, when you see your
admiral in danger? You'd better go and make terms with the enemy at
once."

"Really, this is serious," said Henry; "they shout for Varney. Can Mr.
Chillingworth have been so mad as to adopt this means of stopping the
duel?"

"Impossible," said Marchdale; "if that had been his intention, he could
have done so quietly, through the medium of the civil authorities."

"Hang me!" exclaimed the admiral, "if there are any civil authorities;
they talk of smashing somebody. What do they say, Jack? I don't hear
quite so well as I used."

"You always was a little deaf," said Jack.

"What?"

"A little deaf, I say."

"Why, you lubberly lying swab, how dare you say so?"

"Because you was."

"You slave-going scoundrel!"

"For Heaven's sake, do not quarrel at such a time as this!" said Henry;
"we shall be surrounded in a moment. Come, Mr. Marchdale, let you and I
visit these people, and ascertain what it is that has so much excited
their indignation."

"Agreed," said Marchdale; and they both stepped forward at a rapid pace,
to meet the advancing throng.

The crowd which had now approached to within a short distance of the
expectant little party, was of a most motley description, and its
appearance, under many circumstances, would cause considerable
risibility. Men and women were mixed indiscriminately together, and in
the shouting, the latter, if such a thing were possible, exceeded the
former, both in discordance and energy.

Every individual composing that mob carried some weapon calculated for
defence, such as flails, scythes, sickles, bludgeons, &c., and this mode
of arming caused them to wear a most formidable appearance; while the
passion that superstition had called up was strongly depicted in their
inflamed features. Their fury, too, had been excited by their
disappointment, and it was with concentrated rage that they now pressed
onward.

The calm and steady advance of Henry and Mr. Marchdale to meet the
advancing throng, seemed to have the effect of retarding their progress
a little, and they came to a parley at a hedge, which separated them
from the meadow in which the duel had been fought.

"You seem to be advancing towards us," said Henry. "Do you seek me or
any of my friends; and if so, upon what errand? Mr. Chillingworth, for
Heaven's sake, explain what is the cause of all this assault. You seem
to be at the head of it."

"Seem to be," said Mr. Chillingworth, "without being so. You are not
sought, nor any of your friends?"

"Who, then?"

"Sir Francis Varney," was the immediate reply.

"Indeed! and what has he done to excite popular indignation? of private
wrong I can accuse him; but I desire no crowd to take up my cause, or to
avenge my quarrels."

"Mr. Bannerworth, it has become known, through my indiscretion, that Sir
Frances Varney is suspected of being a vampyre."

"Is this so?"

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob. "Down with the vampyre! hurrah! where is he?
Down with him!"

"Drive a stake through him," said a woman; "it's the only way, and the
humanest. You've only to take a hedge stake and sharpen it a bit at one
end, and char it a little in the fire so as there mayt'n't be no
splinters to hurt, and then poke it through his stomach."

The mob gave a great shout at this humane piece of advice, and it was
some time before Henry could make himself heard at all, even to those
who were nearest to him.

When he did succeed in so doing, he cried, with a loud voice,--

"Hear me, all of you. It is quite needless for me to inquire how you
became possessed of the information that a dreadful suspicion hangs over
the person of Sir Francis Varney; but if, in consequence of hearing such
news, you fancy this public demonstration will be agreeable to me, or
likely to relieve those who are nearest or dearest to me from the state
of misery and apprehension into which they have fallen, you are much
mistaken."

"Hear him, hear him!" cried Mr. Marchdale; "he speaks both wisdom and
truth."

"If anything," pursued Henry, "could add to the annoyance of vexation
and misery we have suffered, it would assuredly be the being made
subjects of every-day gossip, and every-day clamour."

"You hear him?" said Mr. Marchdale.

"Yes, we does," said a man; "but we comes out to catch a vampyre, for
all that."

"Oh, to be sure," said the humane woman; "nobody's feelings is nothing
to us. Are we to be woke up in the night with vampyres sucking our
bloods while we've got a stake in the country?"

"Hurrah!" shouted everybody. "Down with the vampyre! where is he?"

"You are wrong. I assure you, you are all wrong," said Mr.
Chillingworth, imploringly; "there is no vampyre here, you see. Sir
Francis Varney has not only escaped, but he will take the law of all of
you."

This was an argument which appeared to stagger a few, but the bolder
spirits pushed them on, and a suggestion to search the wood having been
made by some one who was more cunning than his neighbours, that measure
was at once proceeded with, and executed in a systematic manner, which
made those who knew it to be the hiding-place of Sir Francis Varney
tremble for his safety.

It was with a strange mixture of feeling that Henry Bannerworth waited
the result of the search for the man who but a few minutes before had
been opposed to him in a contest of life or death.

The destruction of Sir Francis Varney would certainly have been an
effectual means of preventing him from continuing to be the incubus he
then was upon the Bannerworth family; and yet the generous nature of
Henry shrank with horror from seeing even such a creature as Varney
sacrificed at the shrine of popular resentment, and murdered by an
infuriated populace.

He felt as great an interest in the escape of the vampyre as if some
great advantage to himself bad been contingent upon such an event; and,
although he spoke not a word, while the echoes of the little wood were
all awakened by the clamorous manner in which the mob searched for their
victim, his feelings could be well read upon his countenance.

The admiral, too, without possessing probably the fine feelings of Henry
Bannerworth, took an unusually sympathetic interest in the fate of the
vampyre; and, after placing himself in various attitudes of intense
excitement, he exclaimed,--

"D--n it, Jack, I do hope, after all, the vampyre will get the better of
them. It's like a whole flotilla attacking one vessel--a lubberly
proceeding at the best, and I'll be hanged if I like it. I should like
to pour in a broadside into those fellows, just to let them see it
wasn't a proper English mode of fighting. Shouldn't you, Jack?"

"Ay, ay, sir, I should."

"Shiver me, if I see an opportunity, if I don't let some of those
rascals know what's what."

Scarcely had these words escaped the lips of the old admiral than there
arose a loud shout from the interior of the wood. It was a shout of
success, and seemed at the very least to herald the capture of the
unfortunate Varney.

"By Heaven!" exclaimed Henry, "they have him."

"God forbid!" said Mr. Marchdale; "this grows too serious."

"Bear a hand, Jack," said the admiral: "we'll have a fight for it yet;
they sha'n't murder even a vampyre in cold blood. Load the pistols and
send a flying shot or two among the rascals, the moment they appear."

"No, no," said Henry; "no more violence, at least there has been
enough--there has been enough."

Even as he spoke there came rushing from among the trees, at the corner
of the wood, the figure of a man. There needed but one glance to assure
them who it was. Sir Francis Varney had been seen, and was flying before
those implacable foes who had sought his life.

He had divested himself of his huge cloak, as well as of his low
slouched hat, and, with a speed which nothing but the most absolute
desperation could have enabled him to exert, he rushed onward, beating
down before him every obstacle, and bounding over the meadows at a rate
that, if he could have continued it for any length of time, would have
set pursuit at defiance.

"Bravo!" shouted the admiral, "a stern chase is a long chase, and I wish
them joy of it--d----e, Jack, did you ever see anybody get along like
that?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"You never did, you scoundrel."

"Yes, I did."

"When and where?"

"When you ran away off the sound."

The admiral turned nearly blue with anger, but Jack looked perfectly
imperturbable, as he added,--

"You know you ran away after the French frigates who wouldn't stay to
fight you."

"Ah! that indeed. There he goes, putting on every stitch of canvass,
I'll be bound."

"And there they come," said Jack, as he pointed to the corner of the
wood, and some of the more active of the vampyre's pursuers showed
themselves.

It would appear as if the vampyre had been started from some
hiding-place in the interior of the wood, and had then thought it
expedient altogether to leave that retreat, and make his way to some
more secure one across the open country, where there would be more
obstacles to his discovery than perseverance could overcome. Probably,
then, among the brushwood and trees, for a few moments he had been again
lost sight of, until those who were closest upon his track had emerged
from among the dense foliage, and saw him scouring across the country at
such headlong speed. These were but few, and in their extreme anxiety
themselves to capture Varney, whose precipate and terrified flight
brought a firm conviction to their minds of his being a vampyre, they
did not stop to get much of a reinforcement, but plunged on like
greyhounds in his track.

"Jack," said the admiral, "this won't do. Look at that great lubberly
fellow with the queer smock-frock."

"Never saw such a figure-head in my life," said Jack.

"Stop him."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The man was coming on at a prodigious rate, and Jack, with all the
deliberation in the world, advanced to meet him; and when they got
sufficiently close together, that in a few moments they must encounter
each other, Jack made himself into as small a bundle as possible, and
presented his shoulder to the advancing countryman in such a way, that
he flew off it at a tangent, as if he had run against a brick wall, and
after rolling head over heels for some distance, safely deposited
himself in a ditch, where he disappeared completely for a few moments
from all human observation.

"Don't say I hit you," said Jack. "Curse yer, what did yer run against
me for? Sarves you right. Lubbers as don't know how to steer, in course
runs agin things."

"Bravo," said the admiral; "there's another of them."

The pursuers of Varney the vampyre, however, now came too thick and fast
to be so easily disposed of, and as soon as his figure could be seen
coursing over the meadows, and springing over road and ditch with an
agility almost frightful to look upon, the whole rabble rout was in
pursuit of him.

By this time, the man who had fallen into the ditch had succeeded in
making his appearance in the visible world again, and as he crawled up
the bank, looking a thing of mire and mud, Jack walked up to him with
all the carelessness in the world, and said to him,--

"Any luck, old chap?"

"Oh, murder!" said the man, "what do you mean? who are you? where am I?
what's the matter? Old Muster Fowler, the fat crowner, will set upon me
now."

"Have you caught anything?" said Jack.

"Caught anything?"

"Yes; you've been in for eels, haven't you?"

"D--n!"

"Well, it is odd to me, as some people can't go a fishing without
getting out of temper. Have it your own way; I won't interfere with
you;" and away Jack walked.

The man cleared the mud out of his eyes, as well as he could, and looked
after him with a powerful suspicion that in Jack he saw the very cause
of his mortal mishap: but, somehow or other, his immersion in the not
over limpid stream had wonderfully cooled his courage, and casting one
despairing look upon his begrimed apparel, and another at the last of
the stragglers who were pursuing Sir Francis Varney across the fields,
he thought it prudent to get home as fast he could, and get rid of the
disagreeable results of an adventure which had turned out for him
anything but auspicious or pleasant.

Mr. Chillingworth, as though by a sort of impulse to be present in case
Sir Francis Varney should really be run down and with a hope of saving
him from personal violence, had followed the foremost of the rioters in
the wood, found it now quite impossible for him to carry on such a chase
as that which was being undertaken across the fields after Sir Francis
Varney.

His person was unfortunately but ill qualified for the continuance of
such a pursuit, and, although with the greatest reluctance, he at last
felt himself compelled to give it up.

In making his way through the intricacies of the wood, he had been
seriously incommoded by the thick undergrowth, and he had accidentally
encountered several miry pools, with which he had involuntarily made a
closer acquaintance than was at all conducive either to his personal
appearance or comfort. The doctor's temper, though, generally speaking,
one of the most even, was at last affected by his mishaps, and he could
not restrain from an execration upon his want of prudence in letting his
wife have a knowledge of a secret that was not his own, and the
producing an unlooked for circumstance, the termination of which might
be of a most disastrous nature.

Tired, therefore, and nearly exhausted by the exertions he had already
taken, he emerged now alone from the wood, and near the spot where stood
Henry Bannerworth and his friends in consultation.

The jaded look of the surgeon was quite sufficient indication of the
trouble and turmoil he had gone through, and some expressions of
sympathy for his condition were dropped by Henry, to whom he replied,--

"Nay, my young friend, I deserve it all. I have nothing but my own
indiscretion to thank for all the turmoil and tumult that has arisen
this morning."

"But to what possible cause can we attribute such an outrage?"

"Reproach me as much as you will, I deserve it. A man may prate of his
own secrets if he like, but he should be careful of those of other
people. I trusted yours to another, and am properly punished."

"Enough," said Henry; "we'll say no more of that, Mr. Chillingworth.
What is done cannot be undone, and we had better spend our time in
reflection of how to make the best of what is, than in useless
lamentation over its causes. What is to be done?"

"Nay, I know not. Have you fought the duel?"

"Yes; and, as you perceive, harmlessly."

"Thank Heaven for that."

"Nay, I had my fire, which Sir Francis Varney refused to return; so the
affair had just ended, when the sound of approaching tumult came upon
our ears."

[Illustration]

"What a strange mixture," exclaimed Marchdale, "of feelings and passions
this Varney appears to be. At one moment acting with the apparent
greatest malignity; and another, seeming to have awakened in his mind a
romantic generosity which knows no bounds. I cannot understand him."