Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

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"The natural consequence of this, in his state, was, that partial
insanity supervened, and at a moment when frenzy rose far above
reflection, he must have committed the dreadful act which hurried him
instantaneously to eternity."

"Yes," said Henry; "it must have been so; you have guessed truly. He did
on that occasion drink an immense quantity of wine; but instead of
stilling the pangs of remorse it must have increased them, and placed
him in such a frenzied condition of intellect, that he found it
impossible to withstand the impulse of it, unless by the terrific act
which ended his existence."

"Yes, and which at once crushed all my expectations of the large fortune
which was to have been mine; for even the one-half of the sum which had
been taken from the gamester's pocket would have been sufficient to have
enabled me to live for the future in affluence.

"I became perfectly maddened at the idea that so large a sum had passed
out of my hands. I constantly hovered about Bannerworth Hall, hoping and
expecting that something might arise which would enable me to get
admittance to it, and make an active search through its recesses for the
hidden treasure.

"All my exertions were in vain. I could hit upon no scheme whatever; and
at length, wearied and exhausted, I was compelled to proceed to London
for the sake of a subsistence. It is only in that great metropolis that
such persons as myself, destitute of real resources, but infinitely
reckless as regards the means by which they acquire a subsistence, can
hope to do so. Once again, therefore, I plunged into the vortex of
London life, and proceeded, heedless of the criminality of what I was
about, to cater for myself by robbery, or, indeed, in any manner which
presented a prospect of success. It was during this career of mine, that
I became associated with some of the most desperate characters of the
time; and the offences we committed were of that daring character that
it could not be wondered at eventually so formidable a gang of
desperadoes must be by force broken up.

"It so occurred, but unknown to us, that the police resolved upon making
one of the most vigorous efforts to put an end to the affair, and in
consequence a watch was set upon every one of our movements.

"The result of this was, as might have been expected, our complete
dispersion, and the arrest of some our members, and among them myself.

"I knew my fate almost from the first. Our depredations had created such
a sensation, that the legislature, even, had made it a matter of
importance that we should be suppressed, and it was an understood thing
among the judges, that the severest penalties of the law should be
inflicted upon any one of the gang who might be apprehended and
convicted.

"My trial scarcely occupied an hour, and then I was convicted and
sentenced to execution, with an intimation from the judge that it would
be perfectly absurd of me to dream, for one moment, of a remission of
that sentence.

"In this state of affairs, and seeing nothing but death before me, I
gave myself up to despair, and narrowly missed cheating the hangman of
his victim.

"More dead than alive, I was, however, dragged out to be judicially
murdered, and I shall never forget the crowd of frightful sensations
that came across my mind upon that terrific occasion.

"It seemed as if my fate had then reached its climax, and I have really
but a dim recollection of the terrible scene.

"I remember something of the confused murmur arising from an immense
throng of persons. I remember looking about me, and seeing nothing but
what appeared to me an immense sea of human heads, and then suddenly I
heard a loud roar of execration burst from the multitude.

"I shrunk back terrified, and it did, indeed, seem to me a brutal thing
thus to roar and shout at a man who was brought out to die. I soon,
however, found that the mob who came to see such a spectacle was not so
debased as I imagined, but that it was at the hangman, who had suddenly
made his appearance on the scaffold, at whom they raised that fearful
yell.

"Some one--I think it was one of the sheriffs--must have noticed that I
was labouring under the impression that the cry from the mob was
levelled at me, for he spoke, saying,--

"'It is at the hangman they shout,' and he indicated with his finger
that public functionary. In my mind's eye I think I see him now, and I
am certain that I shall never forget the expression of his face. It was
perfectly fearful; and afterwards, when I learned who and what he was, I
was not surprised that he should feel so acutely the painfully degrading
office which he had to perform.

"The fatal rope was in a few minutes adjusted to my neck. I felt its
pressure, and I heard the confused sounds of the monotonous voice of the
clergyman, as he muttered some prayers, that I must confess sounded to
me at the time like a mockery of human suffering.

"Then suddenly there was a loud shout--I felt the platform give way
beneath my feet--I tried to utter a yell of agony, but could not--it
seemed to me as if I was encompassed by fire, and then sensation left
me, and I knew no more.

* * * * *

"The next feelings of existence that came over me consisted in a
frightful tingling sensation throughout my veins, and I felt myself
making vain efforts to scream. All the sensations of a person suffering
from a severe attack of nightmare came across me, and I was in such an
agony, that I inwardly prayed for death to release me from such a cruel
state of suffering. Then suddenly the power to utter a sound came to me,
and I made use of it well, for the piercing shriek I uttered, must have
struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it, since it appalled
even myself.

"Then I suppose I must have fainted, but when I recovered consciousness
again, I found myself upon a couch, and a man presenting some stimulus
to me in a cup. I could not distinguish objects distinctly, but I heard
him say, 'Drink, and you will be better.'

"I did drink, for a raging thirst consumed me, and then I fell into a
sound sleep, which, I was afterwards told, lasted nearly twenty-four
hours, and when I recovered from that, I heard again the same voice that
had before spoken to me, asking me how I was.

"I turned in the direction of the sound, and, as my vision was now
clearer, I could see that it was the hangman, whose face had made upon
the scaffold such an impression upon me--an impression which I then
considered my last in this world, but which turned out not to be such by
many a mingled one of pain and pleasure since.

"It was some time before I could speak, and when I did, it was only in a
few muttered words, to ask what had happened, and where I was.

"'Do you not remember,' he said, 'that you were hanged?'

"'I do--I do,' was my reply. 'Is this the region of damned souls?'

"'No; you are still in this world, however strange you may think it.
Listen to me, and I will briefly tell you how it is that you have come
back again, as it were, from the very grave, to live and walk about
among the living."

"I listened to him with a strange and rapt attention, and then he told
how a young and enthusiastic medical man had been anxious to try some
experiments with regard to the restoration of persons apparently dead,
and he proceeded to relate how it was that he had given ear to the
solicitations of the man, and had consented to bring my body after it
was hung for him to experiment upon. He related how the doctor had been
successful, but how he was so terrified at his own success, that he
hastily fled, and had left London, no one knowing whither he had gone.

"I listened to this with the most profound attention, and then he
concluded, by saying to me,--

"'There can be no doubt but my duty requires of me to give you up again
to the offended laws of your country. I will not, however, do that, if
you will consent to an arrangement that I shall propose to you.'

"I asked him what the arrangement was, and he said that if I would
solemnly bind myself to pay to him a certain sum per annum, he would
keep my secret, and forsaking his calling as hangman, endeavour to do
something that should bring with it pleasanter results. I did so
solemnly promise him, and I have kept my word. By one means or another I
have succeeded in procuring the required amount, and now he is no more."

"I believe," cried Henry, "that he has fallen a victim to the blind fury
of the populace."

"You are right, he has so, and accordingly I am relieved from the burden
of those payments; but it matters little, for now I am so near the tomb
myself, that, together with all my obligations, I shall soon be beyond
the reach of mortal cavilling."

"You need not think so, Varney; you must remember that you are at
present suffering from circumstances, the pressure of which will soon
pass away, and then you will resume your wonted habits."

"What did you do next?" said the admiral.--"Let's know all while you are
about it."

"I remained at the hangman's house for some time, until all fear of
discovery was over, and then he removed me to a place of greater
security, providing me from his own resources with the means of
existence, until I had fully recovered my health, and then he told me to
shift for myself.

"During my confinement though, I had not been idle mentally, for I
concocted a plan, by which I should be enabled not only to live well
myself, but to pay to the hangman, whose name was Mortimore, the annual
sum I had agreed upon. I need not go into the details of this plan. Of
course it was neither an honest nor respectable one, but it succeeded,
and I soon found myself in a position to enable me thereby to keep my
engagement, as well as to supply me with means of plotting and planning
for my future fortunes.

"I had never for a moment forgotten that so large a sum of money was
somewhere concealed about Bannerworth Hall, and I still looked forward
to obtaining it by some means or another.

"It was in this juncture of affairs, that one night I was riding on
horseback through a desolate part of England. The moon was shining
sweetly, as I came to a broad stream of water, across which, about a
mile further on, I saw that there was a bridge, but being unwilling to
waste time by riding up to it, and fancying, by the lazy ripple of the
waters, that the river was not shallow, I plunged my horse boldly into
the stream.

"When we reached its centre, some sudden indisposition must have seized
the horse, for instead of swimming on well and gallantly as it had done
before, it paused for a moment, and then plunged headlong into the
torrent.

"I could not swim, and so, for a second time, death, with all its
terrors, appeared to be taking possession of me. The waters rolled over
my head, gurgling and hissing in my ears, and then all was past. I know
no more, until I found myself lying upon a bright green meadow, and the
full beams of the moon shining upon me.

"I was giddy and sick, but I rose, and walked slowly away, each moment
gathering fresh strength, and from that time to this, I never discovered
how I came to be rescued from the water, and lying upon that green bank.
It has ever been a mystery to me, and I expect it ever will.

"Then from that moment the idea that I had a sort of charmed life came
across me, and I walked about with an impression that such was the case,
until I came across a man who said that he was a Hungarian, and who was
full of strange stories of vampyres. Among other things, he told me that
a vampyre could not be drowned, for that the waters would cast him upon
its banks, and, if the moonbeams fell upon him, he would be restored to
life.

"This was precisely my story, and from that moment I believed myself to
be one of those horrible, but charmed beings, doomed to such a
protracted existence. The notion grew upon me day by day, and hour by
hour, until it became quite a fixed and strong belief, and I was
deceiving no one when I played the horrible part that has been
attributed to me."

"But you don't mean to say that you believe you are a vampyre now?" said
the admiral.

"I say nothing, and know not what to think. I am a desperate man, and
what there is at all human in me, strange to say, all of you whom I
sought to injure, have awakened."

"Heed not that," said Henry, "but continue your narrative. We have
forgiven everything, and that ought to suffice to quiet your mind upon
such a subject."

"I will continue; and, believe me, I will conceal nothing from you. I
look upon the words I am now uttering as a full, candid, and free
confession; and, therefore, it shall be complete.

"The idea struck me that if, by taking advantage of my supposed
preternatural gifts, I could drive you from Bannerworth Hall, I should
have it to myself to hunt through at my leisure, and possibly find the
treasure. I had heard from Marmaduke Bannerworth some slight allusion to
concealing the money behind a picture that was in a bed-room called the
panelled chamber. By inquiry, I ascertained that in that bed-room slept
Flora Bannerworth.

"I had resolved, however, at first to try pacific measures, and
accordingly, as you are well aware, I made various proposals to you to
purchase or to rent Bannerworth Hall, the whole of which you rejected;
so that I found myself compelled to adopt the original means that had
suggested themselves to me, and endeavour to terrify you from the house.

"By prowling about, I made myself familiar with the grounds, and with
all the plan of the residence, and then one night made my appearance in
Flora's chamber by the window."

"But how do you account," said Charles Holland, "for your extraordinary
likeness to the portrait?"

"It is partly natural, for I belong to a collateral branch of the
family; and it was previously arranged. I had seen the portrait in
Marmaduke Bannerworth's time, and I knew some of its peculiarities and
dress sufficiently well to imitate them. I calculated upon producing a
much greater effect by such an imitation; and it appears that I was not
wrong, for I did produce it to the full."

"You did, indeed," said Henry; "and if you did not bring conviction to
our minds that you were what you represented yourself to be, you at
least staggered our judgments upon the occasion, and left us in a
position of great doubt and difficulty."

"I did; I did all that, I know I did; and, by pursuing that line of
conduct, I, at last, I presume, entirely forced you from the house."

"That you did."

"Flora fainted when I entered her chamber; and the moment I looked upon
her sweet countenance my heart smote me for what I was about; but I
solemnly aver, that my lips never touched her, and that, beyond the
fright, she suffered nothing from Varney, the vampyre."

"And have you succeeded," said Henry, "in your object now?"

"No; the treasure has yet to be found. Mortimore, the hangman, followed
me into the house, guessing my intention, and indulging a hope that he
would succeed in sharing with me its proceeds. But he, as well as
myself, was foiled, and nothing came of the toilsome and anxious search
but disappointment and bitterness."

"Then it is supposed that the money is still concealed?"

"I hope so; I hope, as well, that it will be discovered by you and
yours; for surely none can have a better right to it than you, who have
suffered so much on its account."

"And yet," remarked Henry, "I cannot help thinking it is too securely
hidden from us. The picture has been repeatedly removed from its place,
and produced no results; so that I fear we have little to expect from
any further or more protracted research."

"I think," said Varney, "that you have everything to expect. The words
of the dying Marmaduke Bannerworth, you may depend, were not spoken in
vain; and I have every reason to believe that, sooner or later, you
must, without question, become the possessors of that sum."

"But ought we rightly to hold it?"

"Who ought more rightly to hold it?" said Varney; "answer me that."

"That's a sensible enough idea of your's," said the admiral; "and if you
were twice over a vampyre, I would tell you so. It's a very sensible
idea; I should like to know who has more right to it than those who have
had such a world of trouble about it."

"Well, well," said Henry, "we must not dispute, as yet, about a sum of
money that may really never come to hand. For my own part, I have little
to hope for in the matter; but, certainly, nothing shall be spared, on
my part, to effect such a thorough search of the Hall as shall certainly
bring it to light, if it be in existence."

"I presume, Sir Francis Varney," said Charles Holland, "that you have
now completed your narrative?"

"I have. After events are well known to you. And, now, I have but to lie
down and die, with the hope of finding that rest and consolation in the
tomb which has been denied me hitherto in this world. My life has been a
stormy one, and full of the results of angry passions. I do hope now,
that, for the short time I have to live, I shall know something like
serenity, and die in peace."

"You may depend, Varney, that, as long as you have an asylum with us,"
said the admiral--"and that you may have as long as you like,--you may
be at peace. I consider that you have surrendered at discretion, and,
under such circumstances, an enemy always deserves honourable treatment,
and always gets it on board such a ship as this."

"There you go again," said Jack, "calling the house a ship."

"What's that to you, if I were to call it a bowsprit? Ain't I your
captain, you lubber, and so, sure to be right, while you are wrong, in
the natural order of things? But you go and lay down, Master Varney, and
rest yourself, for you seem completely done up."

Varney did look fearfully exhausted; and, with the assistance of Henry
and Charles, he went into another apartment, and laid down upon a couch,
showing great symptoms of debility and want of power.

And now it was a calm; Varney's stay at the cottage of the Bannerworths
was productive of a different mood of mind than ever he had possessed
before. He looked upon them in a very different manner to what he had
been used to. He had, moreover, considerably altered prospects; there
could not be the same hopes and expectations that he once had. He was an
altered man. He saw in the Bannerworths those who had saved his life,
and who, without doubt, had possessed an opinion, not merely obnoxious
to him, but must have had some fearful misgivings concerning his
character, and that, too, of a nature that usually shuts out all hope of
being received into any family.

But, in the hour of his need, when his life was in danger, no one else
would have done what they had done for him, especially when so
relatively placed.

Moreover, he had been concealed, when to do so was both dangerous and
difficult; and then it was done by Flora Bannerworth herself.

Time flew by. The mode of passing time at the cottage was calm and
serene. Varney had seldom witnessed anything like it; but, at the same
time, he felt more at ease than ever he had; he was charmed with the
society of Flora--in fact, with the whole of the little knot of
individuals who there collected together; from what he saw he was
gratified in their society; and it seemed to alleviate his mental
disquiet, and the sense he must feel of his own peculiar position. But
Varney became ill. The state of mind and body he had been in for some
time past might be the cause of it. He had been much harassed, and
hunted from place to place. There was not a moment in which his life was
not in danger, and he had, moreover, more than one case, received some
bodily injuries, bruises, and contusions of a desperate character; and
yet he would take no notice of them, but allow them to get well again,
as best they could.

[Illustration]

His escapes and injuries had made a deep impression upon his mind, and
had no doubt a corresponding effect upon his body, and Varney became
very ill.

Flora Bannerworth did all that could be done for one in his painful
position, and this greatly added to the depths of thought that
occasionally beset him, and he could scarcely draw one limb after the
other.

He walked from room to room in the twilight, at which time he had more
liberty permitted him than at any other, because there was not the same
danger in his doing so; for, if once seen, there could be no manner of
doubt but he would have been pursued until he was destroyed, when no
other means of escape were at hand; and Varney himself felt that there
could be no chance of his again escaping from them, for his physical
powers were fast decaying; he was not, in fact, the same man.

He came out into the parlour from the room in which he had been seated
during the day. Flora and her mother were there, while Charles Holland
and Henry Bannerworth had both at that moment entered the apartment.

"Good evening, Miss Bannerworth," said Sir Francis, bowing to her, and
then to her mother, Mrs. Bannerworth; "and you, Mr. Holland, I see, have
been out enjoying the free breeze that plays over the hot fields. It
must be refreshing."

"It is so, sir," said Charles. "I wish we could make you a partaker in
our walks."

"I wish you could with all my heart," said Varney.

"Sir Francis," said Flora, "must be a prisoner for some short time
longer yet."

"I ought not to consider it in any such light. It is not imprisonment. I
have taken sanctuary. It is the well spring of life to me," said Varney.

"I hope it may prove so; but how do you find yourself this evening, Sir
Francis Varney?"

"Really, it is difficult to say--I fluctuate. At times, I feel as though
I should drop insensible on the earth, and then I feel better than I
have done for some time previously."

"Doctor Chillingworth will be here bye and bye, no doubt; and he must
see what he can do for you to relieve you of these symptoms," said
Flora.

"I am much beholden to you--much beholden to you; but I hope to be able
to do without the good doctor's aid in this instance, though I must
admit I may appear ungrateful."

"Not at all--not at all."

"Have you heard any news abroad to-day?" inquired Varney.

"None, Sir Francis--none; there is nothing apparently stirring; and now,
go out when you would, you would find nothing but what was old, quiet,
and familiar."

"We cannot wish to look upon anything with mere charms for a mind at
ease, than we can see under such circumstances; but I fear there are
some few old and familiar features that I should find sad havoc in."

"You would, certainly, for the burnings and razings to the ground of
some places, have made some dismal appearances; but time may efface
that, and then the evil may die away, and the future will become the
present, should we be able to allay popular feeling."

"Yes," said Sir Francis; "but popular prejudices, or justice, or
feeling, are things not easily assuaged. The people when once aroused go
on to commit all kinds of excess, and there is no one point at which
they will step short of the complete extirpation of some one object or
other that they have taken a fancy to hunt."

"The hubbub and excitement must subside."

"The greater the ignorance the more persevering and the more brutal they
are," said Sir Francis; "but I must not complain of what is the
necessary consequence of their state."

"It might be otherwise."

"So it might, and no mischief arise either; but as we cannot divert the
stream, we may as well bend to the force of a current too strong to
resist."

"The moon is up," said Flora, who wished to turn the conversation from
that to another topic. "I see if yonder through the trees; it rises red
and large--it is very beautiful--and yet there is not a cloud about to
give it the colour and appearance it now wears."

"Exactly so," said Sir Francis Varney; "but the reason is the air is
filled with a light, invisible vapour, that has the effect you perceive.
There has been much evaporation going on, and now it shows itself in
giving the moon that peculiar large appearance and deep colour."

"Ay, I see; it peeps through the trees, the branches of which cut it up
into various portions. It is singular, and yet beautiful, and yet the
earth below seems dark."

"It is dark; you would be surprised to find it so if you walked about.
It will soon be lighter than it is at this present moment."

"What sounds are those?" inquired Sir Francis Varney, as he listened
attentively.

"Sounds! What sounds?" returned Henry.

"The sounds of wheels and horses' feet," said Varney.

"I cannot even hear them, much less can I tell what they are," said
Henry.

"Then listen. Now they come along the road. Cannot you hear them now?"
said Varney.

"Yes, I can," said Charles Holland; "but I really don't know what they
are, or what it can matter to us; we don't expect any visitors."

"Certainly, certainly," said Varney. "I am somewhat apprehensive of the
approach of strange sounds."

"You are not likely to be disturbed here," said Charles.

"Indeed; I thought so when I had succeeded in getting into the house
near the town, and so far from believing it was likely I should be
discovered, that I sat on the house-top while the mob surrounded it."