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

CHAPTER LXXIX.

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

[Illustration]

Yet knowing to what deeds of violence the passions of a lawless mob will
sometimes lead them, and having the experience of what had been
attempted by the alarmed and infuriated populace on a former occasion,
against the Hall, Henry Bannerworth was, reasonably enough, not without
his fears that something might occur of a nature yet highly dangerous to
the stability of his ancient house.

He did not actually surmount the fence, but he crept so close to it,
that he could get over in a moment, if he wished; and, if any one should
move or speak on the other side, he should be quite certain to hear
them.

For a few moments all was still, and then suddenly he heard some one
say, in a low voice,

"Hist! hist! did you hear nothing?"

"I thought I did," said another; "but I now am doubtful."

"Listen again."

"What," thought Henry, "can be the motives of these men lying secreted
here? It is most extraordinary what they can possibly want, unless they
are brewing danger for the Hall."

Most cautiously now he raised himself, so that his eyes could just look
over the fence, and then, indeed, he was astonished.

He had expected to see two or three persons, at the utmost; what was his
surprise! to find a compact mass of men crouching down under the garden
wall, as far as his eye could reach.

For a few moments, he was so surprised, that he continued to gaze on,
heedless of the danger there might be from a discovery that he was
playing the part of a spy upon them.

When, however, his first sensations of surprise were over, he cautiously
removed to his former position, and, just as he did, so, he heard those
who had before spoken, again, in low tones, breaking the stillness of
the night.

"I am resolved upon it," said one; "I am quite determined. I will,
please God, rid the country of that dreadful man."

"Don't call him a man," said the oilier.

"Well, well; it is a wrong name to apply to a vampyre."

"It is Varney, after all, then," said Henry. Bannerworth, to
himself;--"it is his life that they seek. What can be done to save
him?--for saved he shall be if I can compass such an object. I feel that
there is yet a something in his character which is entitled to
consideration, and he shall not be savagely murdered while I have an arm
to raise in his defence. But if anything is now to be done, it must be
done by stratagem, for the enemy are, by far, in too great force to be
personally combatted with."

Henry resolved to take the advice of his friends, and with that view he
went silently and quietly back to where they were, and communicated to
them the news that he had so unexpectedly discovered.

They were all much surprised, and then the doctor said,

"You may depend, that since the disappointment of the mob in the
destruction of this place, they have had their eye upon Varney. He has
been dogged here by some one, and then by degrees that assemblage has
sought the spot."

"He's a doomed man, then," remarked the admiral; "for what can save him
from a determined number of persons, who, by main force, will overcome
us, let us make what stand we may in his defence."

"Is there no hiding-place in the house," said Charles, "where you might,
after warring him of his danger, conceal him?"

"There are plenty, but of what avail would that be, if they burn down
the Hall, which in all probability they will!"

"None, certainly."

"There is but one chance," said Henry, "and that is to throw them off
the scent, and induce them to think that he whom they seek is not here;
I think that may possibly be done by boldness."

"But how!"

"I will go among them and make the effort."

He at once left the friends, for he felt that there might be no time to
lose, and hastening to the same part of the wall, ever which he had
looked so short a time before, he clambered over it, and cried, in a
loud voice,

"Stop the vampyre! stop the vampyre!"

"Where, where?" shouted a number of persons at once, turning their eyes
eagerly towards the spot where Henry stood.

"There, across the fields," cried Henry. "I have lain in wait for him
long; but he has eluded me, and is making his way again towards the old
ruins, where I am sure he has some hiding-place that he thinks will
elude all search. There, I see his dusky form speeding onwards."

"Come on," cried several; "to the ruins! to the ruins! We'll smoke him
out if he will not come by fair means: we must have him, dead or alive."

"Yes, to the ruins!" shouted the throng of persons, who up to this time
had preserved so cautious a silence, and, in a few moments more, Henry
Bannerworth had the satisfaction of finding that his ruse had been
perfectly successful, for Bannerworth Hall and its vicinity were
completely deserted, and the mob, in a straggling mass, went over hedge
and ditch towards those ruins in which there was nothing to reward the
exertions they might choose to make in the way of an exploration of
them, but the dead body of the villain Marchdale, who had come there to
so dreadful, but so deserved a death.

CHAPTER LXXX.

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

[Illustration]

The mob reached the ruins of Bannerworth Hall, and crowded round it on
all sides, with the view of ascertaining if a human creature, dead or
alive, were there; various surmises were afloat, and some were for
considering that everybody but themselves, or their friends, must be
nothing less than vampyres. Indeed, a strange man, suddenly appearing
among them, would have caused a sensation, and a ring would no doubt
have been formed round him, and then a hasty council held, or, what was
more probable, some shout, or word uttered by some one behind, who could
not understand what was going on in front, would have determined them to
commit some desperate outrage, and the sacrifice of life would have been
the inevitable result of such an unfortunate concurrence of
circumstances.

There was a pause before anyone ventured among the ruins; the walls were
carefully looked to, and in more than one instance, but they were found
dangerous, what were remaining; some parts had been so completely
destroyed, that there were nothing but heaps of rubbish.

However, curiosity was exerted to such an extraordinary pitch that it
overcame the fear of danger, in search of the horrible; for they
believed that if there were any one in the ruins he must be a vampyre,
of course, and they were somewhat cautious in going near such a
creature, lest in so doing they should meet with some accident, and
become vampyres too.

This was a dreadful reflection, and one that every now and then
impressed itself upon the individuals composing the mob; but at the same
time any new impulse, or a shout, and they immediately became insensible
to all fear; the mere impulse is the dominant one, and then all is
forgotten.

The scene was an impressive one; the beautiful house and grounds looked
desolate and drear; many of the trees were stripped and broken down, and
many scorched and burned, while the gardens and flower beds, the delight
of the Bannerworth family, were rudely trodden under foot by the rabble,
and all those little beauties so much admired and tended by the
inhabitants, were now utterly destroyed, and in such a state that their
site could not even be detected by the former owners.

It was a sad sight to see such a sacrilege committed,--such violence
done to private feelings, as to have all these places thrown open to the
scrutiny of the brutal and vulgar, who are incapable of appreciating or
understanding the pleasures of a refined taste.

The ruins presented a remarkable contrast to what the place had been but
a very short time before; and now the scene of desolation was complete,
there was no one spot in which the most wretched could find shelter.

To be sure, under the lee of some broken and crumbling wall, that
tottered, rather than stood, a huddled wretch might have found shelter
from the wind, but it would have been at the risk of his life, and not
there complete.

The mob became quiet for some moments, but was not so long; indeed, a
mob of people,--which is, in fact, always composed of the most
disorderly characters to be found in a place, is not exactly the
assembly that is most calculated for quietness; somebody gave a shout,
and then somebody else shouted, and the one wide throat of the whole
concourse was opened, and sent forth a mighty yell.

After this exhibition of power, they began to run about like
mad,--traverse the grounds from one end to the other, and then the ruins
were in progress of being explored.

This was a tender affair, and had to be done with some care and caution
by those who were so engaged; and they walked over crumbling and decayed
masses.

In one or two places, they saw what appeared to be large holes, into
which the building materials had been sunk, by their own weight, through
the flooring, that seemed as roofs to some cellars or dungeons.

Seeing this, they knew not how soon some other part might sink in, and
carry their precious bodies down with the mass of rubbish; this gave an
interest to the scene,--a little danger is a sort of salt to an
adventure, and enables those who have taken part in it to talk of their
exploits, and of their dangers, which is pleasant to do, and to hear in
the ale-house, and by the inglenook in the winter.

However, when a few had gone some distance, others followed, when they
saw them enter the place in safety: and at length the whole ruins were
covered with living men, and not a few women, who seemed necessary to
make up the elements of mischief in this case.

There were some shouting and hallooing from one to the other as they
hurried about the ruins.

At length they had explored the ruins nearly all over, when one man, who
had stood a few minutes upon a spot, gazing intently upon something,
suddenly exclaimed,--

"Hilloa! hurrah! here we are, altogether,--come on,--I've found
him,--I've found--recollect it's me, and nobody else has
found,--hurrah!"

Then, with a wild kind of frenzy, he threw his hat up into the air, as
if to attract attention, and call others round him, to see what it was
he had found.

"What's the matter, Bill?" exclaimed one who came up to him, and who had
been close at hand.

"The matter? why, I've found him; that's the matter, old man," replied
the first.

"What, a whale?

"No, a wampyre; the blessed wampyre! there he is,--don't you see him
under them ere bricks?"

"Oh, that's not him; he got away."

"I don't care," replied the other, "who got away, or who didn't; I know
this much, that he's a wampyre,--he wouldn't be there if he warn't."

This was an unanswerable argument, and nobody could deny it;
consequently, there was a cessation of talk, and the people then came
up, as the two first were looking at the body.

"Whose is it?" inquired a dozen voices.

[Illustration]

"Not Sir Francis Varney's!" said the second speaker; the clothes are not
his--"

"No, no; not Sir Francis's"

"But I tell you what, mates," said the first speaker; "that if it isn't
Sir Francis Varney's, it is somebody else's as bad. I dare say, now,
he's a wictim."

"A what!"

"A wictim to the wampyre; and, if he sees the blessed moonlight, he will
be a wampyre hisself, and so shall we be, too, if he puts his teeth into
us."

"So we shall,--so we shall," said the mob, and their flesh begin to run
cold, and there was a feeling of horror creeping over the whole body of
persons within hearing.

"I tell you what it is; our only plan will be to get him out of the
ruins, then, remarked another.

"What!" said one; "who's going to handle such cattle? if you've a sore
about you, and his blood touches you, who's to say you won't be a
vampyre, too!"

"No, no you won't," said an old woman.

"I won't try," was the happy rejoinder; "I ain't a-going to carry a
wampyre on my two legs home to my wife and small family of seven
children, and another a-coming."

There was a pause for a few moments, and then one man more adventurous
than the rest, exclaimed,--

"Well, vampyre, or no vampyre, his dead body can harm no one; so here
goes to get it out, help me who will; once have it out, and then we can
prevent any evil, by burning it, and thus destroying the whole body.

"Hurrah!" shouted three or four more, as they jumped down into the hole
formed by the falling in of the materials which had crushed Marchdale to
death, for it was his body they had discovered.

They immediately set to work to displace such of the materials as lay on
the body, and then, having cleared it of all superincumbent rubbish,
they proceeded to lift it up, but found that it had got entangled, as
they called it, with some chains: with some trouble they got them off,
and the body was lifted out to a higher spot.

"Now, what's to be done?" inquired one.

"Burn it," said another.

"Hurrah!" shouted a female voice; "we've got the wampyre! run a stake
through his body, and then place him upon some dry wood,--there's plenty
to be had about here, I am sure,--and then burn him to a cinder."

"That's right, old woman,--that's right," said a man; "nothing better:
the devil must be in him if he come to life after that, I should say."

There might be something in that, and the mob shouted its approbation,
as it was sure to do as anything stupid or senseless, and the proposal
might be said to have been carried by acclamation, and it required only
the execution.

This was soon done. There were plenty of laths and rafters, and the
adjoining wood furnished an abundant supply of dry sticks, so there was
no want of fuel.

There was a loud shout as each accession of sticks took place, and, as
each individual threw his bundle into the heap, each man felt all the
self-devotion to the task as the Scottish chieftain who sacrificed
himself and seven sons in the battle for his superior; and, when one son
was cut down, the man filled up his place with the exclamation,--"Another
for Hector," until he himself fell as the last of his race.

Soon now the heap became prodigious, and it required an effort to get
the mangled corpse upon this funeral bier; but it was then a shout from
the mob that rent the air announced, both the fact and their
satisfaction.

The next thing to be done was to light the pile--this was no easy task;
but like all others, it was accomplished, and the dead body of the
vampyre's victim was thrown on to prevent that becoming a vampyre too,
in its turn.

"There, boys," said one, "he'll not see the moonlight, that's certain,
and the sooner we put a light to this the better; for it may be, the
soldiers will be down upon us before we know anything of it; so now,
who's got a light?"

This was a question that required a deal of searching; but, at length
one was found by one of the mob coming forward, and after drawing his
pipe vigorously for some moments, he collected some scraps of paper upon
which he emptied the contents of the pipe, with the hope they would take
fire.

In this, however, he was doomed to disappointment; for it produced
nothing but a deal of smoke, and the paper burned without producing any
flame.

This act of disinterestedness, however was not without its due
consequences, for there were several who had pipes, and, fired with the
hope of emulating the first projector of the scheme for raising the
flame, they joined together, and potting the contents of their pipes
together on some paper, straw, and chips, they produced, after some
little trouble, a flame.

Then there was a shout, and the burning mass was then placed in a
favourable position nearer the pile of materials collected for burning,
and then, in a few moments, it began to take light; one piece
communicated the fire to another, until the whole was in a blaze.

When the first flame fairly reached the top, a loud and tremendous shout
arose from the mob, and the very welkin re-echoed with its fulness.

Then the forked flames rushed through the wood, and hissed and crackled
as they flew, throwing up huge masses of black smoke, and casting a
peculiar reflection around. Not a sound was heard save the hissing and
roaring of the flames, which seemed like the approaching of a furious
whirlwind.

At length there was nothing to be seen but the blackened mass; it was
enveloped in one huge flame, that threw out a great heat, so much so,
that those nearest to it felt induced to retire from before it.

"I reckon," said one, "that he's pretty well done by this time--he's had
a warm berth of it up there."

"Yes," said another, "farmer Walkings's sheep he roasted whole at last
harvest-home hadn't such a fire as this, I'll warrant; there's no such
fire in the county--why, it would prevent a frost, I do believe it
would."

"So it would, neighbour," answered another.

"Yes," replied a third, "but you'd want such a one corner of each field
though."

* * * * *

There was much talk and joking going on among the men who stood around,
in the midst of which, however, they were disturbed by a loud shout, and
upon looking in the quarter whence it came, they saw stealing from among
the ruins, the form of a man.

He was a strange, odd looking man, and at the time it was very doubtful
among the mob as to whom it was--nobody could tell, and more than one
looked at the burning pile, and then at the man who seemed to be so
mysteriously present, as if they almost imagined that the body had got
away.

"Who is it?" exclaimed one.

"Danged if I knows," said another, looking very hard, and very white at
the same time;--"I hope it ain't the chap what we've burned here jist
now."

"No," said the female, "that you may be sure of, for he's had a stake
through his body, and as you said, he can never get over that, for as
the stake is consumed, so are his vitals, and that's a sure sign he's
done for."

"Yes, yes, she's right--a vampyre may live upon blood, but cannot do
without his inside."

This was so obvious to them all, that it was at once conceded, and a
general impression pervaded the mob that it might be Sir Francis Varney:
a shout ensued.

"Hurrah!--After him--there's a vampyre--there he goes!--after him--catch
him--burn him!"

And a variety of other exclamations were uttered, at the same time; the
victim of popular wrath seemed to be aware that he was now discovered,
and made off with all possible expedition, towards some wood.

Away went the mob in pursuit, hooting and hallooing like demons, and
denouncing the unfortunate being with all the terrors that could be
imagined, and which naturally added greater speed to the unfortunate
man.

However, some among the mob, seeing that there was every probability of
the stranger's escaping at a mere match of speed, brought a little
cunning to bear upon matter, and took a circuit round, and thus
intercepted him.

This was not accomplished without a desperate effort, and by the best
runners, who thus reached the spot he made for, before he could get
there.

When the stranger saw himself thus intercepted, he endeavoured to fly in
a different direction; but was soon secured by the mob, who made
somewhat free with his person, and commenced knocking him about.

"Have mercy on me," said the stranger. "What do you want? I am not rich;
but take all I have."

"What do you do here?" inquired twenty voices. "Come, tell us that--what
do you do here, and who are you?"

"A stranger, quite a stranger to these parts."

"Oh, yes! he's a stranger; but that's all the worse for him--he's a
vampyre--there's no doubt about that."

"Good God," said the man, "I am a living and breathing man like
yourselves. I have done no wrong, and injured no man--be merciful unto
me; I intend no harm."

"Of course not; send him to the fire--take him back to the ruins--to the
fire."

"Ay, and run a stake through his body, and then he's safe for life. I am
sure he has something to do with the vampyre; and who knows, if he ain't
a vampyre, how soon he may become one?"

"Ah! that's very true; bring him back to the fire, and we'll try the
effects of the fire upon his constitution."

"I tell you what, neighbour, it's my opinion, that as one fool makes
many, so one vampyre makes many."

"So it does, so it does; there's much truth and reason in that
neighbour; I am decidedly of that opinion, too."

"Come along then," cried the mob, cuffing and pulling the unfortunate
stranger with them.

"Mercy, mercy!"

But it was useless to call for mercy to men whose superstitious feelings
urged them on; far when the demon of superstition is active, no matter
what form it may take, it always results in cruelty and wickedness to
all.

Various were the shouts and menaces of the mob, and the stranger saw no
hope of life unless he could escape from the hands of the people who
surrounded him.

They had now nearly reached the ruins, and the stranger, who was
certainly a somewhat odd and remarkable looking man, and who appeared in
their eyes the very impersonation of their notions of a vampyre, was
thrust from one to the other, kicked by one, and then cuffed by the
other, as if he was doomed to run the gauntlet.

"Down with the vampyre!" said the mob.

"I am no vampyre," said the stranger; "I am new to these parts, and I
pray you have mercy upon me. I have done you no wrong. Hear me,--I know
nothing of these people of whom you speak."

"That won't do; you've come here to see what you can do, I dare say;
and, though you may have been hurt by the vampyre, and may be only your
misfortune, and not your fault, yet the mischief is as great as ever it
was or can be, you become, in spite of yourself, a vampyre, and do the
same injury to others that has been done to you--there's no help for
you."

"No help,--we can't help it," shouted the mob; "he must die,--throw him
on the pile."

"Put a stake through him first, though," exclaimed the humane female;
"put a stake through him, and then he's safe."

This horrible advice had an electric effect on the stranger, who jumped
up, and eluded the grasp of several hands that were stretched forth to
seize him.

"Throw him upon the burning wood!" shouted one.

"And a stake through his body," suggested the humane female again, who
seemed to have this one idea in her heart, and no other, and, upon every
available opportunity, she seemed to be anxious to give utterance to the
comfortable notion.

"Seize him!" exclaimed one.

"Never let him go," said another; "we've gone too far to hang back now;
and, if he escape, he will visit us in our sleep, were it only out of
spite."

The stranger made a dash among the ruins, and, for a moment,
out-stripped his pursuers; but a few, more adventurous than the rest,
succeeded in driving him into an angle formed by two walls, and the
consequence was, he was compelled to come to a stand.

"Seize him--seize him!" exclaimed all those at a distance.

The stranger, seeing he was now nearly surrounded, and had no chance of
escape, save by some great effort, seized a long piece of wood, and
struck two of his assailants down at once, and then dashed through the
opening.

He immediately made for another part of the ruins, and succeeded in
making his escape for some short distance, but was unable to keep up the
speed that was required, for his great exertion before had nearly
exhausted him, and the fear of a cruel death before his eyes was not
enough to give him strength, or lend speed to his flight. He had
suffered too much from violence, and, though he ran with great speed,
yet those who followed were uninjured, and fresher,--he had no chance.

They came very close upon him at the corner of a field, which he
endeavoured to cross, and had succeeded in doing, and he made a
desperate attempt to scramble up the bank that divided the field from
the next, but he slipped back, almost exhausted, into the ditch, and the
whole mob came up.

However, he got on the bank, and leaped into the next field, and then he
was immediately surrounded by those who pursued him, and he was struck
down.

"Down with the vampyre!--kill him,--he's one of 'em,--run a stake
through him!" were a few of the cries of the infuriated mob of people,
who were only infuriated because he attempted to escape their murderous
intentions.

It was strange to see how they collected in a ring as the unfortunate
man lay on the ground, panting for breath, and hardly able to
speak--their infuriated countenances plainly showing the mischief they
were intent upon.

"Have mercy upon me!" he exclaimed, as he lay on the earth; "I have no
power to help myself."

The mob returned no answer, but stood collecting their numbers as they
came up.

"Have mercy on me! it cannot be any pleasure to you to spill my blood. I
am unable to resist--I am one man among many,--you surely cannot wish to
beat me to death?"

"We want to hurt no one, except in our own defence, and we won't be made
vampyres of because you don't like to die."

"No, no; we won't be vampyres," exclaimed the mob, and there arose a
great shout from the mob.