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

"Well, Miss Bannerworth," he said, "what is all this I hear about an
ugly dream you have had?"

"A dream?" said Flora, as she fixed her beautiful eyes on his face.

"Yes, as I understand."

She shuddered, and was silent.

"Was it not a dream, then?" added Mr. Chillingworth.

She wrung her hands, and in a voice of extreme anguish and pathos,
said,--

"Would it were a dream--would it were a dream! Oh, if any one could but
convince me it was a dream!"

"Well, will you tell me what it was?"

"Yes, sir, it was a vampyre."

Mr. Chillingworth glanced at Henry, as he said, in reply to Flora's
words,--

"I suppose that is, after all, another name, Flora, for the nightmare?"

"No--no--no!"

"Do you really, then, persist in believing anything so absurd, Miss
Bannerworth?"

"What can I say to the evidence of my own senses?" she replied. "I saw
it, Henry saw it, George saw, Mr. Marchdale, my mother--all saw it. We
could not all be at the same time the victims of the same delusion."

"How faintly you speak."

"I am very faint and ill."

"Indeed. What wound is that on your neck?"

A wild expression came over the face of Flora; a spasmodic action of the
muscles, accompanied with a shuddering, as if a sudden chill had come
over the whole mass of blood took place, and she said,--

"It is the mark left by the teeth of the vampyre."

The smile was a forced one upon the face of Mr. Chillingworth.

"Draw up the blind of the window, Mr. Henry," he said, "and let me
examine this puncture to which your sister attaches so extraordinary a
meaning."

[Illustration]

The blind was drawn up, and a strong light was thrown into the room. For
full two minutes Mr. Chillingworth attentively examined the two small
wounds in the neck of Flora. He took a powerful magnifying glass from
his pocket, and looked at them through it, and after his examination was
concluded, he said,--

"They are very trifling wounds, indeed."

"But how inflicted?" said Henry.

"By some insect, I should say, which probably--it being the season for
many insects--has flown in at the window"

"I know the motive," said Flora "which prompts all these suggestions it
is a kind one, and I ought to be the last to quarrel with it; but what I
have seen, nothing can make me believe I saw not, unless I am, as once
or twice I have thought myself, really mad."

"How do you now feel in general health?"

"Far from well; and a strange drowsiness at times creeps over me. Even
now I feel it."

She sunk back on the pillows as she spoke and closed her eyes with a
deep sigh.

Mr. Chillingworth beckoned Henry to come with him from the room, but the
latter had promised that he would remain with Flora; and as Mrs.
Bannerworth had left the chamber because she was unable to control her
feelings, he rang the bell, and requested that his mother would come.

She did so, and then Henry went down stairs along with the medical man,
whose opinion he was certainly eager to be now made acquainted with.

As soon as they were alone in an old-fashioned room which was called the
oak closet, Henry turned to Mr. Chillingworth, and said,--

"What, now, is your candid opinion, sir? You have seen my sister, and
those strange indubitable evidences of something wrong."

"I have; and to tell you candidly the truth, Mr. Henry, I am sorely
perplexed."

"I thought you would be."

"It is not often that a medical man likes to say so much, nor is it,
indeed, often prudent that he should do so, but in this case I own I am
much puzzled. It is contrary to all my notions upon all such subjects."

"Those wounds, what do you think of them?"

"I know not what to think. I am completely puzzled as regards them."

"But, but do they not really bear the appearance of being bites?"

"They really do."

"And so far, then, they are actually in favour of the dreadful
supposition which poor Flora entertains."

"So far they certainly are. I have no doubt in the world of their being
bites; but we not must jump to a conclusion that the teeth which
inflicted them were human. It is a strange case, and one which I feel
assured must give you all much uneasiness, as, indeed, it gave me; but,
as I said before, I will not let my judgment give in to the fearful and
degrading superstition which all the circumstances connected with this
strange story would seem to justify."

"It is a degrading superstition."

"To my mind your sister seems to be labouring under the effect of some
narcotic."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; unless she really has lost a quantity of blood, which loss has
decreased the heart's action sufficiently to produce the languor under
which she now evidently labours."

"Oh, that I could believe the former supposition, but I am confident she
has taken no narcotic; she could not even do so by mistake, for there is
no drug of the sort in the house. Besides, she is not heedless by any
means. I am quite convinced she has not done so."

"Then I am fairly puzzled, my young friend, and I can only say that I
would freely have given half of what I am worth to see that figure you
saw last night."

"What would you have done?"

"I would not have lost sight of it for the world's wealth."

"You would have felt your blood freeze with horror. The face was
terrible."

"And yet let it lead me where it liked I would have followed it."

"I wish you had been here."

"I wish to Heaven I had. If I though there was the least chance of
another visit I would come and wait with patience every night for a
month."

"I cannot say," replied Henry. "I am going to sit up to-night with my
sister, and I believe, our friend Mr. Marchdale will share my watch with
me."

Mr. Chillingworth appeared to be for a few moments lost in thought, and
then suddenly rousing himself, as if he found it either impossible to
come to any rational conclusion upon the subject, or had arrived at one
which he chose to keep to himself, he said,--

"Well, well, we must leave the matter at present as it stands. Time may
accomplish something towards its development, but at present so palpable
a mystery I never came across, or a matter in which human calculation
was so completely foiled."

"Nor I--nor I."

"I will send you some medicines, such as I think will be of service to
Flora, and depend upon seeing me by ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

"You have, of course, heard something," said Henry to the doctor, as he
was pulling on his gloves, "about vampyres."

"I certainly have, and I understand that in some countries, particularly
Norway and Sweden, the superstition is a very common one."

"And in the Levant."

"Yes. The ghouls of the Mahometans are of the same description of
beings. All that I have heard of the European vampyre has made it a
being which can be killed, but is restored to life again by the rays of
a full moon falling on the body."

"Yes, yes, I have heard as much."

"And that the hideous repast of blood has to be taken very frequently,
and that if the vampyre gets it not he wastes away, presenting the
appearance of one in the last stage of a consumption, and visibly, so to
speak, dying."

"That is what I have understood."

"To-night, do you know, Mr. Bannerworth, is the full of the moon."

Henry started.

"If now you had succeeded in killing--. Pshaw, what am I saying. I
believe I am getting foolish, and that the horrible superstition is
beginning to fasten itself upon me as well as upon all of you. How
strangely the fancy will wage war with the judgment in such a way as
this."

"The full of the moon," repeated Henry, as he glanced towards the
window, "and the night is near at hand."

"Banish these thoughts from your mind," said the doctor, "or else, my
young friend, you will make yourself decidedly ill. Good evening to you,
for it is evening. I shall see you to-morrow morning."

Mr. Chillingworth appeared now to be anxious to go, and Henry no longer
opposed his departure; but when he was gone a sense of great loneliness
came over him.

"To-night," he repeated, "is the full of the moon. How strange that this
dreadful adventure should have taken place just the night before. 'Tis
very strange. Let me see--let me see."

He took from the shelves of a book case the work which Flora had
mentioned, entitled, "Travels in Norway," in which work he found some
account of the popular belief in vampyres.

He opened the work at random, and then some of the leaves turned over of
themselves to a particular place, as the leaves of a book will
frequently do when it has been kept open a length of time at that part,
and the binding stretched there more than anywhere else. There was a
note at the bottom of one of the pages at this part of the book, and
Henry read as follows:--

"With regard to these vampyres, it is believed by those who are inclined
to give credence to so dreadful a superstition, that they always
endeavour to make their feast of blood, for the revival of their bodily
powers, on some evening immediately preceding a full moon, because if
any accident befal them, such as being shot, or otherwise killed or
wounded, they can recover by lying down somewhere where the full moon's
rays will fall upon them."

Henry let the book drop from his hands with a groan and a shudder.

CHAPTER V.

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

[Illustration]

A kind of stupefaction came over Henry Bannerworth, and he sat for about
a quarter of an hour scarcely conscious of where he was, and almost
incapable of anything in the shape of rational thought. It was his
brother, George, who roused him by saying, as he laid his hand upon his
shoulder,--

"Henry, are you asleep?"

Henry had not been aware of his presence, and he started up as if he had
been shot.

"Oh, George, is it you?" he said.

"Yes, Henry, are you unwell?"

"No, no; I was in a deep reverie."

"Alas! I need not ask upon what subject," said George, sadly. "I sought
you to bring you this letter."

"A letter to me?"

"Yes, you see it is addressed to you, and the seal looks as if it came
from someone of consequence."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, Henry. Read it, and see from whence it comes."

There was just sufficient light by going to the window to enable Henry
to read the letter, which he did aloud.

It ran thus:--

"Sir Francis Varney presents his compliments to Mr. Beaumont, and
is much concerned to hear that some domestic affliction has
fallen upon him. Sir Francis hopes that the genuine and loving
sympathy of a neighbour will not be regarded as an intrusion, and
begs to proffer any assistance or counsel that may be within the
compass of his means.

"Ratford Abbey."

"Sir Francis Varney!" said Henry, "who is he?"

"Do you not remember, Henry," said George, "we were told a few days ago,
that a gentleman of that name had become the purchaser of the estate of
Ratford Abbey."

"Oh, yes, yes. Have you seen him?"

"I have not."

"I do not wish to make any new acquaintance, George. We are very
poor--much poorer indeed than the general appearance of this place,
which, I fear, we shall soon have to part with, would warrant any one
believing. I must, of course, return a civil answer to this gentleman,
but it must be such as one as shall repress familiarity."

"That will be difficult to do while we remain here, when we come to
consider the very close proximity of the two properties, Henry."

"Oh, no, not at all. He will easily perceive that we do not want to make
acquaintance with him, and then, as a gentleman, which doubtless he is,
he will give up the attempt."

"Let it be so, Henry. Heaven knows I have no desire to form any new
acquaintance with any one, and more particularly under our present
circumstances of depression. And now, Henry, you must permit me, as I
have had some repose, to share with you your night watch in Flora's
room."

"I would advise you not, George; your health, you know, is very far from
good."

"Nay, allow me. If not, then the anxiety I shall suffer will do me more
harm than the watchfulness I shall keep up in her chamber."

This was an argument which Henry felt himself the force of too strongly
not to admit it in the case of George, and he therefore made no further
opposition to his wish to make one in the night watch.

"There will be an advantage," said George, "you see, in three of us
being engaged in this matter, because, should anything occur, two can
act together, and yet Flora may not be left alone."

"True, true, that is a great advantage."

Now a soft gentle silvery light began to spread itself over the heavens.
The moon was rising, and as the beneficial effects of the storm of the
preceding evening were still felt in the clearness of the air, the rays
appeared to be more lustrous and full of beauty than they commonly were.

Each moment the night grew lighter, and by the time the brothers were
ready to take their places in the chamber of Flora, the moon had risen
considerably.

Although neither Henry nor George had any objection to the company of
Mr. Marchdale, yet they gave him the option, and rather in fact urged
him not to destroy his night's repose by sitting up with them; but he
said,--

"Allow me to do so; I am older, and have calmer judgment than you can
have. Should anything again appear, I am quite resolved that it shall
not escape me."

"What would you do?"

"With the name of God upon my lips," said Mr. Marchdale, solemnly, "I
would grapple with it."

"You laid hands upon it last night."

"I did, and have forgotten to show you what I tore from it. Look
here,--what should you say this was?"

He produced a piece of cloth, on which was an old-fashioned piece of
lace, and two buttons. Upon a close inspection, this appeared to be a
portion of the lapel of a coat of ancient times, and suddenly, Henry,
with a look of intense anxiety, said,--

"This reminds me of the fashion of garments very many years ago, Mr.
Marchdale."

"It came away in my grasp as if rotten and incapable of standing any
rough usage."

"What a strange unearthly smell it has!"

"Now you mention it yourself," added Mr. Marchdale, "I must confess it
smells to me as if it had really come from the very grave."

"It does--it does. Say nothing of this relic of last night's work to any
one."

"Be assured I shall not. I am far from wishing to keep up in any one's
mind proofs of that which I would fain, very fain refute."

Mr. Marchdale replaced the portion of the coat which the figure had worn
in his pocket, and then the whole three proceeded to the chamber of
Flora.

* * * * *

It was within a very few minutes of midnight, the moon had climbed high
in the heavens, and a night of such brightness and beauty had seldom
shown itself for a long period of time.

Flora slept, and in her chamber sat the two brothers and Mr. Marchdale,
silently, for she had shown symptoms of restlessness, and they much
feared to break the light slumber into which she had fallen.

Occasionally they had conversed in whispers, which could not have the
effect of rousing her, for the room, although smaller than the one she
had before occupied, was still sufficiently spacious to enable them to
get some distance from the bed.

Until the hour of midnight now actually struck, they were silent, and
when the last echo of the sounds had died away, a feeling of uneasiness
came over them, which prompted some conversation to get rid of it.

"How bright the moon is now," said Henry, in a low tone.

"I never saw it brighter," replied Marchdale. "I feel as if I were
assured that we shall not to-night be interrupted."

"It was later than this," said Henry.

"It was--it was."

"Do not then yet congratulate us upon no visit."

"How still the house is!" remarked George; "it seems to me as if I had
never found it so intensely quiet before."

"It is very still."

"Hush! she moves."

Flora moaned in her sleep, and made a slight movement. The curtains were
all drawn closely round the bed to shield her eyes from the bright
moonlight which streamed into the room so brilliantly. They might have
closed the shutters of the window, but this they did not like to do, as
it would render their watch there of no avail at all, inasmuch as they
would not be able to see if any attempt was made by any one to obtain
admittance.

A quarter of an hour longer might have thus passed when Mr. Marchdale
said in a whisper,--

"A thought has just struck me that the piece of coat I have, which I
dragged from the figure last night, wonderfully resembles in colour and
appearance the style of dress of the portrait in the room which Flora
lately slept in."

"I thought of that," said Henry, "when first I saw it; but, to tell the
honest truth, I dreaded to suggest any new proof connected with last
night's visitation."

"Then I ought not to have drawn your attention to it," said Mr.
Marchdale, "and regret I have done so."

"Nay, do not blame yourself on such an account," said Henry. "You are
quite right, and it is I who am too foolishly sensitive. Now, however,
since you have mentioned it, I must own I have a great desire to test
the accuracy of the observation by a comparison with the portrait."

"That may easily be done."

"I will remain here," said George, "in case Flora awakens, while you two
go if you like. It is but across the corridor."

Henry immediately rose, saying--

"Come, Mr. Marchdale, come. Let us satisfy ourselves at all events upon
this point at once. As George says it is only across the corridor, and
we can return directly."

"I am willing," said Mr. Marchdale, with a tone of sadness.

There was no light needed, for the moon stood suspended in a cloudless
sky, so that from the house being a detached one, and containing
numerous windows, it was as light as day.

Although the distance from one chamber to the other was only across the
corridor, it was a greater space than these words might occupy, for the
corridor was wide, neither was it directly across, but considerably
slanting. However, it was certainly sufficiently close at hand for any
sound of alarm from one chamber to reach another without any difficulty.

A few moments sufficed to place Henry and Mr. Marchdale in that antique
room, where, from the effect of the moonlight which was streaming over
it, the portrait on the panel looked exceedingly life like.

And this effect was probably the greater because the rest of the room
was not illuminated by the moon's rays, which came through a window in
the corridor, and then at the open door of that chamber upon the
portrait.

Mr. Marchdale held the piece of cloth he had close to the dress of the
portrait, and one glance was sufficient to show the wonderful likeness
between the two.

"Good God!" said Henry, "it is the same."

Mr. Marchdale dropped the piece of cloth and trembled.

"This fact shakes even your scepticism," said Henry.

"I know not what to make of it."

"I can tell you something which bears upon it. I do not know if you are
sufficiently aware of my family history to know that this one of my
ancestors, I wish I could say worthy ancestors, committed suicide, and
was buried in his clothes."

"You--you are sure of that?"

"Quite sure."

"I am more and more bewildered as each moment some strange corroborative
fact of that dreadful supposition we so much shrink from seems to come
to light and to force itself upon our attention."

There was a silence of a few moments duration, and Henry had turned
towards Mr. Marchdale to say something, when the cautious tread of a
footstep was heard in the garden, immediately beneath that balcony.

A sickening sensation came over Henry, and he was compelled to lean
against the wall for support, as in scarcely articulate accents he
said--

"The vampyre--the vampyre! God of heaven, it has come once again!"

"Now, Heaven inspire us with more than mortal courage," cried Mr.
Marchdale, and he dashed open the window at once, and sprang into the
balcony.

Henry in a moment recovered himself sufficiently to follow him, and when
he reached his side in the balcony, Marchdale said, as he pointed
below,--

"There is some one concealed there."

"Where--where?"

"Among the laurels. I will fire a random shot, and we may do some
execution."

"Hold!" said a voice from below; "don't do any such thing, I beg of
you."

"Why, that is Mr. Chillingworth's voice," cried Henry.

"Yes, and it's Mr. Chillingworth's person, too," said the doctor, as he
emerged from among some laurel bushes.

"How is this?" said Marchdale.

"Simply that I made up my mind to keep watch and ward to-night outside
here, in the hope of catching the vampyre. I got into here by climbing
the gate."

"But why did you not let me know?" said Henry.

"Because I did not know myself, my young friend, till an hour and a half
ago."

"Have you seen anything?"

"Nothing. But I fancied I heard something in the park outside the wall."

"Indeed!"

"What say you, Henry," said Mr. Marchdale, "to descending and taking a
hasty examination of the garden and grounds?"

"I am willing; but first allow me to speak to George, who otherwise
might be surprised at our long absence."

Henry walked rapidly to the bed chamber of Flora, and be said to
George,--

"Have you any objection to being left alone here for about half an hour,
George, while we make an examination of the garden?"

"Let me have some weapon and I care not. Remain here while I fetch a
sword from my own room."

Henry did so, and when George returned with a sword, which he always
kept in his bed-room, he said,--

"Now go, Henry. I prefer a weapon of this description to pistols much.
Do not be longer gone than necessary."

"I will not, George, be assured."

George was then left alone, and Henry returned to the balcony, where Mr.
Marchdale was waiting for him. It was a quicker mode of descending to
the garden to do so by clambering over the balcony than any other, and
the height was not considerable enough to make it very objectionable, so
Henry and Mr. Marchdale chose that way of joining Mr. Chillingworth.

"You are, no doubt, much surprised at finding me here," said the doctor;
"but the fact is, I half made up my mind to come while I was here; but I
had not thoroughly done so, therefore I said nothing to you about it."

"We are much indebted to you," said Henry, "for making the attempt."

"I am prompted to it by a feeling of the strongest curiosity."

"Are you armed, sir?" said Marchdale.

"In this stick," said the doctor, "is a sword, the exquisite temper of
which I know I can depend upon, and I fully intended to run through any
one whom I saw that looked in the least of the vampyre order."

"You would have done quite right," replied Mr. Marchdale. "I have a
brace of pistols here, loaded with ball; will you take one, Henry, if
you please, and then we shall be all armed."

Thus, then, prepared for any exigency, they made the whole round of the
house; but found all the fastenings secure, and everything as quiet as
possible.

"Suppose, now, we take a survey of the park outside the garden wall,"
said Mr. Marchdale.

This was agreed to; but before they had proceeded far, Mr. Marchdale
said,--

"There is a ladder lying on the wall; would it not be a good plan to
place it against the very spot the supposed vampyre jumped over last
night, and so, from a more elevated position, take a view of the open
meadows. We could easily drop down on the outer side, if we saw anything
suspicious."

"Not a bad plan," said the doctor. "Shall we do it?"

"Certainly," said Henry; and they accordingly carried the ladder, which
had been used for pruning the trees, towards the spot at the end of the
long walk, at which the vampyre had made good, after so many fruitless
efforts, his escape from the premises.

They made haste down the long vista of trees until they reached the
exact spot, and then they placed the ladder as near as possible, exactly
where Henry, in his bewilderment on the evening before, had seen the
apparition from the grave spring to.

"We can ascend singly," said Marchdale; "but there is ample space for us
all there to sit on the top of the wall and make our observations."

This was seen to be the case, and in about a couple of minutes they had
taken up their positions on the wall, and, although the height was but
trifling, they found that they had a much more extensive view than they
could have obtained by any other means.

"To contemplate the beauty of such a night as this," said Mr.
Chillingworth, "is amply sufficient compensation for coming the distance
I have."

"And who knows," remarked Marchdale, "we may yet see something which may
throw a light upon our present perplexities God knows that I would give
all I can call mine in the world to relieve you and your sister, Henry
Bannerworth, from the fearful effect which last night's proceedings
cannot fail to have upon you."

"Of that I am well assured, Mr. Marchdale," said Henry. "If the
happiness of myself and family depended upon you, we should be happy
indeed."

"You are silent, Mr. Chillingworth," remarked Marchdale, after a slight
pause.

"Hush!" said Mr. Chillingworth--"hush--hush!"

"Good God, what do you hear?" cried Henry.