CHAPTER IX.
THE OCCURRENCES OF THE NIGHT AT THE HALL.--THE SECOND APPEARANCE OF THEVAMPYRE, AND THE PISTOL-SHOT.
Despite the full and free consent which Flora had given to her brothersto entrust her solely to the care of her mother and her own courage atthe hall, she felt greater fear creep over her after they were gone thanshe chose to acknowledge.
A sort of presentiment appeared to come over her that some evil wasabout to occur, and more than once she caught herself almost in the actof saying,--
"I wish they had not gone."
Mrs. Bannerworth, too, could not be supposed to be entirely destitute ofuncomfortable feelings, when she came to consider how poor a guard shewas over her beautiful child, and how much terror might even deprive ofthe little power she had, should the dreadful visitor again make hisappearance.
"But it is but for two hours," thought Flora, "and two hours will soonpass away."
There was, too, another feeling which gave her some degree ofconfidence, although it arose from a bad source, inasmuch as it was onewhich showed powerfully how much her mind was dwelling on theparticulars of the horrible belief in the class of supernatural beings,one of whom she believed had visited her.
That consideration was this. The two hours of absence from the hall ofits male inhabitants, would be from nine o'clock until eleven, and thosewere not the two hours during which she felt that she would be mosttimid on account of the vampyre.
"It was after midnight before," she thought, "when it came, and perhapsit may not be able to come earlier. It may not have the power, untilthat time, to make its hideous visits, and, therefore, I will believemyself safe."
She had made up her mind not to go to bed until the return of herbrothers, and she and her mother sat in a small room that was used as abreakfast-room, and which had a latticed window that opened on to thelawn.
This window had in the inside strong oaken shutters, which had beenfastened as securely as their construction would admit of some timebefore the departure of the brothers and Mr. Marchdale on thatmelancholy expedition, the object of which, if it had been known to her,would have added so much to the terrors of poor Flora.
It was not even guessed at, however remotely, so that she had not theadditional affliction of thinking, that while she was sitting there, aprey to all sorts of imaginative terrors, they were perhaps gatheringfresh evidence, as, indeed, they were, of the dreadful reality of theappearance which, but for the collateral circumstances attendant uponits coming and its going, she would fain have persuaded herself was butthe vision of a dream.
It was before nine that the brothers started, but in her own mind Floragave them to eleven, and when she heard ten o'clock sound from a clockwhich stood in the hall, she felt pleased to think that in another hourthey would surely be at home.
"My dear," said her mother, "you look more like yourself, now."
"Do, I, mother?"
"Yes, you are well again."
"Ah, if I could forget--"
"Time, my dear Flora, will enable you to do so, and all the fear of whatmade you so unwell will pass away. You will soon forget it all."
"I will hope to do so."
"Be assured that, some day or another, something will occur, as Henrysays, to explain all that has happened, in some way consistent withreason and the ordinary nature of things, my dear Flora."
"Oh, I will cling to such a belief; I will get Henry, upon whosejudgment I know I can rely, to tell me so, and each time that I hearsuch words from his lips, I will contrive to dismiss some portion of theterror which now, I cannot but confess, clings to my heart."
Flora laid her hand upon her mother's arm, and in a low, anxious tone ofvoice, said,--"Listen, mother."
Mrs. Bannerworth turned pale, as she said,--"Listen to what, dear?"
"Within these last ten minutes," said Flora, "I have thought three orfour times that I heard a slight noise without. Nay, mother, do nottremble--it may be only fancy."
Flora herself trembled, and was of a death-like paleness; once or twiceshe passed her hand across her brow, and altogether she presented apicture of much mental suffering.
They now conversed in anxious whispers, and almost all they saidconsisted in anxious wishes for the return of the brothers and Mr.Marchdale.
"You will be happier and more assured, my dear, with some company," saidMrs. Bannerworth. "Shall I ring for the servants, and let them remain inthe room with us, until they who are our best safeguards next to Heavenreturn?"
"Hush--hush--hush, mother!"
"What do you hear?"
"I thought--I heard a faint sound."
"I heard nothing, dear."
"Listen again, mother. Surely I could not be deceived so often. I havenow, at least, six times heard a sound as if some one was outside by thewindows."
"No, no, my darling, do not think; your imagination is active and in astate of excitement."
"It is, and yet--"
"Believe me, it deceives you."
"I hope to Heaven it does!"
There was a pause of some minutes' duration, and then Mrs. Bannerworthagain urged slightly the calling of some of the servants, for shethought that their presence might have the effect of giving a differentdirection to her child's thoughts; but Flora saw her place her hand uponthe bell, and she said,--
"No, mother, no--not yet, not yet. Perhaps I am deceived."
Mrs. Bannerworth upon this sat down, but no sooner had she done so thanshe heartily regretted she had not rung the bell, for, before, anotherword could be spoken, there came too perceptibly upon their ears forthere to be any mistake at all about it, a strange scratching noise uponthe window outside.
A faint cry came from Flora's lips, as she exclaimed, in a voice ofgreat agony,--
"Oh, God!--oh, God! It has come again!"
Mrs. Bannerworth became faint, and unable to move or speak at all; shecould only sit like one paralysed, and unable to do more than listen toand see what was going on.
The scratching noise continued for a few seconds, and then altogetherceased. Perhaps, under ordinary circumstances, such a sound outside thewindow would have scarcely afforded food for comment at all, or, if ithad, it would have been attributed to some natural effect, or to theexertions of some bird or animal to obtain admittance to the house.
But there had occurred now enough in that family to make any littlesound of wonderful importance, and these things which before would havepassed completely unheeded, at all events without creating much alarm,were now invested with a fearful interest.
When the scratching noise ceased, Flora spoke in a low, anxious whisper,as she said,--
"Mother, you heard it then?"
Mrs. Bannerworth tried to speak, but she could not; and then suddenly,with a loud clash, the bar, which on the inside appeared to fasten theshutters strongly, fell as if by some invisible agency, and the shuttersnow, but for the intervention of the window, could be easily pushed openfrom without.
Mrs. Bannerworth covered her face with her hands, and, after rocking toand fro for a moment, she fell off her chair, having fainted with theexcess of terror that came over her.
For about the space of time in which a fast speaker could count twelve,Flora thought her reason was leaving her, but it did not. She foundherself recovering; and there she sat, with her eyes fixed upon thewindow, looking more like some exquisitely-chiselled statue of despairthan a being of flesh and blood, expecting each moment to have its eyesblasted by some horrible appearance, such as might be supposed to driveher to madness.
And now again came the strange knocking or scratching against the glassof the window.
This continued for some minutes, during which it appeared likewise toFlora that some confusion was going on at another part of the house, forshe fancied she heard voices and the banging of doors.
It seemed to her as if she must have sat looking at the shutters of thatwindow a long time before she saw them shake, and then one wide hingedportion of them slowly opened.
She was able to see plainly that something was by the window, but whatit was she could not plainly discern, in consequence of the lights shehad in the room. A few moments, however, sufficed to settle thatmystery, for the window was opened and a figure stood before her.
One glance, one terrified glance, in which her whole soul wasconcentrated, sufficed to shew her who and what the figure was. Therewas the tall, gaunt form--there was the faded ancient apparel--thelustrous metallic-looking eyes--its half-opened month, exhibiting thetusk-like teeth! It was--yes, it was--_the vampyre!_
It stood for a moment gazing at her, and then in the hideous way it hadattempted before to speak, it apparently endeavoured to utter some wordswhich it could not make articulate to human ears. The pistols lay beforeFlora. Mechanically she raised one, and pointed it at the figure. Itadvanced a step, and then she pulled the trigger.
A stunning report followed. There was a loud cry of pain, and thevampyre fled. The smoke and the confusion that was incidental to thespot prevented her from seeing if the figure walked or ran away. Shethought she heard a crashing sound among the plants outside the window,as if it had fallen, but she did not feel quite sure.
It was no effort of any reflection, but a purely mechanical movement,that made her raise the other pistol, and discharge that likewise in thedirection the vampyre had taken. Then casting the weapon away, she rose,and made a frantic rush from the room. She opened the door, and wasdashing out, when she found herself caught in the circling arms of someone who either had been there waiting, or who had just at that momentgot there.
The thought that it was the vampyre, who by some mysterious means, hadgot there, and was about to make her his prey, now overcame hercompletely, and she sunk into a state of utter insensibility on themoment.
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 11
