Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood

by Thomas Preskett Prest

  CHAPTER XL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The _ghoul_ of eastern nations is but the same being, altered to suithabits and localities; and the _sema_ of the Scandinavians is but thevampyre of a more primitive race, and a personification of that morbidimagination which has once fancied the probability of the dead walkingagain among the living, with all the frightful insignia of corruptionand the grave about them.

  Although not popular in England, still there had been tales told of suchmidnight visitants, so that Mrs. Chillingworth, when she had impartedthe information which she had obtained, had already some rough materialto work upon in the minds of her auditors, and therefore there was nogreat difficulty in very soon establishing the fact.

  Under such circumstances, ignorant people always do what they have heardhas been done by some one else before them and in an incredibly shortspace of time the propriety of catching Sir Francis Varney, deprivinghim 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 KingCanute's task of stemming the waves of the ocean as that of attemptingto stop the crowd from proceeding to Sir Francis Varney's house.

  His very presence was a sort of confirmation of the whole affair. Invain he gesticulated, in vain he begged and prayed that they would goback, and in vain he declared that full and ample justice should be doneupon the vampyre, provided popular clamour spared him, and he was leftto more deliberate judgment.

  Those who were foremost in the throng paid no attention to theseremonstrances while those who were more distant heard them not, and, forall they knew, he might be urging the crowd on to violence, instead ofdeprecating it.

  Thus, then, this disorderly rabble soon reached the house of Sir FrancisVarney and loudly demanded of his terrified servant where he was to befound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He knew he was breaking his own engagement to be present at the duelbetween Henry Bannerworth and Sir Francis Varney, and, as that thoughtrecurred to him, he dreaded that his professional services might berequired on one side or the other; for he knew, or fancied he knew, thatmutual hatred dictated the contest; and he thought that if ever a duelhad taken place which was likely to be attended with some disastrousresult, that was surely the one.

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

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

  Dissatisfied with their non-success, the crowd twice searched the houseof Sir Francis Varney, from the attics to the basement; and then, andnot till then, did they begin reluctantly to believe that the servantsmust 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 thisperfectly groundless supposition was sufficient to turn their steps backagain in the direction whence they came, and they had actually, in astraggling sort of column, reached halfway towards the town, when theyencountered a boy, whose professional pursuit consisted in tending sheepvery early of a morning, and who at once informed them that he had seenSir Francis Varney in the wood, half way between Bannerworth Hall andhis own home.

  This event at once turned the whole tide again, and with renewedclamours, carrying Mr. Chillingworth along with them, they now rapidlyneared 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 theparties on the ground, where the duel could scarcely have been said tohave been fought; and then had Sir Francis Varney dashed into the wood,which was so opportunely at hand to afford him a shelter from hisenemies, and from the intricacies of which--well acquainted with them ashe doubtless was,--he had every chance of eluding their pursuit.

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

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

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

  "D----e," said the admiral, "here's a gang of pirates; we shall beboarded 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 youradmiral in danger? You'd better go and make terms with the enemy atonce."

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

  "Impossible," said Marchdale; "if that had been his intention, he couldhave 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 hearquite 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 Ivisit these people, and ascertain what it is that has so much excitedtheir 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 theexpectant little party, was of a most motley description, and itsappearance, under many circumstances, would cause considerablerisibility. Men and women were mixed indiscriminately together, and inthe shouting, the latter, if such a thing were possible, exceeded theformer, both in discordance and energy.

  Every individual composing that mob carried some weapon calculated fordefence, such as flails, scythes, sickles, bludgeons, &c., and this modeof arming caused them to wear a most formidable appearance; while thepassion that superstition had called up was strongly depicted in theirinflamed features. Their fury, too, had been excited by theirdisappointment, and it was with concentrated rage that they now pressedonward.

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

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

  "Seem to be," said Mr. Chillingworth, "without being so. You are notsought, 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 privatewrong I can accuse him; but I desire no crowd to take up my cause, or toavenge my quarrels."

  "Mr. Bannerworth, it has become known, through my indiscretion, that SirFrancis 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 thehumanest. You've only to take a hedge stake and sharpen it a bit at oneend, and char it a little in the fire so as there mayt'n't be nosplinters to hurt, and then poke it through his stomach."

  The mob gave a great shout at this humane piece of advice, and it wassome time before Henry could make himself heard at all, even to thosewho 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 youbecame possessed of the information that a dreadful suspicion hangs overthe person of Sir Francis Varney; but if, in consequence of hearing suchnews, you fancy this public demonstration will be agreeable to me, orlikely to relieve those who are nearest or dearest to me from the stateof misery and apprehension into which they have fallen, you are muchmistaken."

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

  "If anything," pursued Henry, "could add to the annoyance of vexationand misery we have suffered, it would assuredly be the being madesubjects 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, forall that."

  "Oh, to be sure," said the humane woman; "nobody's feelings is nothingto us. Are we to be woke up in the night with vampyres sucking ourbloods 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. SirFrancis Varney has not only escaped, but he will take the law of all ofyou."

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

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

  The destruction of Sir Francis Varney would certainly have been aneffectual means of preventing him from continuing to be the incubus hethen was upon the Bannerworth family; and yet the generous nature ofHenry shrank with horror from seeing even such a creature as Varneysacrificed at the shrine of popular resentment, and murdered by aninfuriated populace.

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

  The admiral, too, without possessing probably the fine feelings of HenryBannerworth, took an unusually sympathetic interest in the fate of thevampyre; and, after placing himself in various attitudes of intenseexcitement, he exclaimed,--

  "D--n it, Jack, I do hope, after all, the vampyre will get the better ofthem. It's like a whole flotilla attacking one vessel--a lubberlyproceeding at the best, and I'll be hanged if I like it. I should liketo pour in a broadside into those fellows, just to let them see itwasn'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 thoserascals know what's what."

  Scarcely had these words escaped the lips of the old admiral than therearose a loud shout from the interior of the wood. It was a shout ofsuccess, and seemed at the very least to herald the capture of theunfortunate 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 andsend a flying shot or two among the rascals, the moment they appear."

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

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

  He had divested himself of his huge cloak, as well as of his lowslouched hat, and, with a speed which nothing but the most absolutedesperation could have enabled him to exert, he rushed onward, beatingdown before him every obstacle, and bounding over the meadows
at a ratethat, if he could have continued it for any length of time, would haveset pursuit at defiance.

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

  "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 perfectlyimperturbable, as he added,--

  "You know you ran away after the French frigates who wouldn't stay tofight 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 thewood, and some of the more active of the vampyre's pursuers showedthemselves.

  It would appear as if the vampyre had been started from somehiding-place in the interior of the wood, and had then thought itexpedient altogether to leave that retreat, and make his way to somemore secure one across the open country, where there would be moreobstacles to his discovery than perseverance could overcome. Probably,then, among the brushwood and trees, for a few moments he had been againlost sight of, until those who were closest upon his track had emergedfrom among the dense foliage, and saw him scouring across the country atsuch headlong speed. These were but few, and in their extreme anxietythemselves to capture Varney, whose precipate and terrified flightbrought a firm conviction to their minds of his being a vampyre, theydid not stop to get much of a reinforcement, but plunged on likegreyhounds in his track.

  "Jack," said the admiral, "this won't do. Look at that great lubberlyfellow 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 thedeliberation in the world, advanced to meet him; and when they gotsufficiently close together, that in a few moments they must encountereach other, Jack made himself into as small a bundle as possible, andpresented his shoulder to the advancing countryman in such a way, thathe flew off it at a tangent, as if he had run against a brick wall, andafter rolling head over heels for some distance, safely depositedhimself in a ditch, where he disappeared completely for a few momentsfrom all human observation.

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

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

  The pursuers of Varney the vampyre, however, now came too thick and fastto be so easily disposed of, and as soon as his figure could be seencoursing over the meadows, and springing over road and ditch with anagility almost frightful to look upon, the whole rabble rout was inpursuit of him.

  By this time, the man who had fallen into the ditch had succeeded inmaking his appearance in the visible world again, and as he crawled upthe bank, looking a thing of mire and mud, Jack walked up to him withall 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 menow."

  "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 withoutgetting out of temper. Have it your own way; I won't interfere withyou;" and away Jack walked.

  The man cleared the mud out of his eyes, as well as he could, and lookedafter him with a powerful suspicion that in Jack he saw the very causeof his mortal mishap: but, somehow or other, his immersion in the notover limpid stream had wonderfully cooled his courage, and casting onedespairing look upon his begrimed apparel, and another at the last ofthe 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 thedisagreeable results of an adventure which had turned out for himanything but auspicious or pleasant.

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

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

  In making his way through the intricacies of the wood, he had beenseriously incommoded by the thick undergrowth, and he had accidentallyencountered several miry pools, with which he had involuntarily made acloser acquaintance than was at all conducive either to his personalappearance or comfort. The doctor's temper, though, generally speaking,one of the most even, was at last affected by his mishaps, and he couldnot restrain from an execration upon his want of prudence in letting hiswife have a knowledge of a secret that was not his own, and theproducing an unlooked for circumstance, the termination of which mightbe of a most disastrous nature.

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

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

  "Nay, my young friend, I deserve it all. I have nothing but my ownindiscretion to thank for all the turmoil and tumult that has arisenthis 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 hisown secrets if he like, but he should be careful of those of otherpeople. 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 inreflection of how to make the best of what is, than in uselesslamentation 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 theaffair had just ended, when the sound of approaching tumult came uponour ears."

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

  "Nor I, indeed," said Henry; "but yet I somehow tremble for his fate,and I seem to feel that something ought to be done to save him from thefearful consequences of popular feeling. Let us hasten to the town, andprocure what assistance we may: but a few persons, well organised andproperly armed, will achieve wonders against a desultory andill-appointed multitude. There may be a chance of saving him, yet, fromthe imminent danger which surrounds him."

  "That's proper," cried the admiral. "I don't like to see anybody rundown. A fair fight's another thing. Yard arm and yard arm--stink potsand pipkins--broadside to broadside--and throw in your bodies, if youlike, on the lee quarter; but don't do anything shabby. What do youthink of it, Jack?"

  "Why, I means to say as how if Varney only keeps on sail as he's beendoing, that the devil himself wouldn't catch him in a gale."

  "And yet," said Henry, "it is our duty to do the best we can. Let us atonce to the town, and summons all the assistance in our power. Comeon--come on!"

  His friends needed no further urging, but, at a brisk pace, they allproceeded by the nearest footpaths towards the town. />
  It puzzled his pursuers to think in what possible direction Sir FrancisVarney expected to find sustenance or succour, when they saw howcuriously he took his flight across the meadows. Instead ofendeavouring, by any circuitous path, to seek the shelter of his ownhouse, or to throw himself upon the care of the authorities of the town,who must, to the extent of their power, have protected him, he struckacross the fields, apparently without aim or purpose, seemingly intentupon nothing but to distance his pursuers in a long chase, which mightpossibly tire them, or it might not, according to their or his powers ofendurance.

  We say this seemed to be the case, but it was not so in reality. SirFrancis Varney had a deeper purpose, and it was scarcely to be supposedthat a man of his subtle genius, and, apparently, far-seeing andreflecting intellect, could have so far overlooked the many dangers ofhis position as not to be fully prepared for some such contingency asthat which had just now occurred.

  Holding, as he did, so strange a place in society--living among men, andyet possessing so few attributes in common with humanity--he must allalong have felt the possibility of drawing upon himself popularviolence.

  He could not wholly rely upon the secrecy of the Bannerworth family,much as they might well be supposed to shrink from giving publicity tocircumstances of so fearfully strange and perilous a nature as thosewhich had occurred amongst them. The merest accident might, at anymoment, make him the town's talk. The overhearing of a few chance wordsby some gossiping domestic--some ebullition of anger or annoyance bysome member of the family--or a communication from some friend who hadbeen treated with confidence--might, at any time, awaken around him somesuch a storm as that which now raged at his heels.

  Varney the vampire must have calculated this. He must have felt thepossibility of such a state of things; and, as a matter of course,politicly provided himself with some place of refuge.

  After about twenty minutes of hard chasing across the fields, therecould be no doubt of his intentions. He had such a place of refuge; and,strange a one as it might appear, he sped towards it in as direct a lineas ever a well-sped arrow flew towards its mark.

  That place of refuge, to the surprise of every one, appeared to be theancient ruin, of which we have before spoken, and which was so wellknown to every inhabitant of the county.

  Truly, it seemed like some act of mere desperation for Sir FrancisVarney to hope there to hide himself. There remained within, of what hadonce been a stately pile, but a few grey crumbling walls, which thehunted have would have passed unheeded, knowing that not for one instantcould he have baffled his pursuers by seeking so inefficient a refuge.

  And those who followed hard and fast upon the track of Sir FrancisVarney felt so sure of their game, when they saw whither he wasspeeding, that they relaxed in their haste considerably, calling loudlyto each other that the vampire was caught at last, for he could beeasily surrounded among the old ruins, and dragged from amongst itsmoss-grown walls.

  In another moment, with a wild dash and a cry of exultation, he sprangout of sight, behind an angle, formed by what had been at one time oneof the principal supports of the ancient structure.

  Then, as if there was still something so dangerous about him, that onlyby a great number of hands could he be hoped to be secured, theinfuriated peasantry gathered in a dense circle around what theyconsidered his temporary place of refuge, and as the sun, which had nowclimbed above the tree tops, and dispersed, in a great measure, many ofthe heavy clouds of morning, shone down upon the excited group, theymight have been supposed there assembled to perform some superstitiousrite, which time had hallowed as an association of the crumbling ruinaround which they stood.

  By the time the whole of the stragglers, who had persisted in the chase,had come up, there might have been about fifty or sixty resolute men,each intent upon securing the person of one whom they felt, while inexistence, would continue to be a terror to all the weaker and dearerportions of their domestic circles.

  There was a pause of several minutes. Those who had come the fleetestwere gathering breath, and those who had come up last were looking totheir more forward companions for some information as to what hadoccurred before their arrival.

  All was profoundly still within the ruin, and then suddenly, as if bycommon consent, there arose from every throat a loud shout of"Down with the vampyre! down with the vampyre!"

  The echoes of that shout died away, and then all was still as before,while a superstitious feeling crept over even the boldest. It wouldalmost seem as if they had expected some kind of response from SirFrancis Varney to the shout of defiance with which they had just greetedhim; but the very calmness, repose, and absolute quiet of the ruin, andall about it, alarmed them, and they looked the one at the other as ifthe adventure after all were not one of the pleasantest description, andmight not fall out so happily as they had expected.

  Yet what danger could there be? there were they, more than half ahundred stout, strong men, to cope with one; they felt convinced that hewas completely in their power; they knew the ruins could not hide him,and that five minutes time given to the task, would suffice to exploreevery nook and corner of them.

  And yet they hesitated, while an unknown terror shook their nerves, andseemingly from the very fact that they had run down their gamesuccessfully, they dreaded to secure the trophy of the chase.

  One bold spirit was wanting; and, if it was not a bold one that spoke atlength, he might be complimented as being comparatively such. It was onewho had not been foremost in the chase, perchance from want of physicalpower, who now stood forward, and exclaimed,--

  "What are you waiting for, now? You can have him when you like. If youwant your wives and children to sleep quietly in their beds, you willsecure the vampyre. Come on--we all know he's here--why do you hesitate?Do you expect me to go alone and drag him out by the ears?"

  Any voice would have sufficed to break the spell which bound them. Thisdid so; and, with one accord, and yells of imprecation, they rushedforward and plunged among the old walls of the ruin.

  Less time than we have before remarked would have enabled any one toexplore the tottering fabric sufficient to bring a conviction to theirminds that, after all, there might have been some mistake about thematter, and Sir Francis Varney was not quite caught yet.

  It was astonishing how the fact of not finding him in a moment, againroused all their angry feelings against him, and dispelled every feelingof superstitious awe with which he had been surrounded; rage gave placeto the sort of shuddering horror with which they had before contemplatedhis immediate destruction, when they had believed him to be virtuallywithin their very grasp.

  Over and over again the ruins were searched--hastily and impatiently bysome, carefully and deliberately by others, until there could be nodoubt upon the mind of every one individual, that somehow or somewherewithin the shadow of those walls, Sir Francis Varney had disappearedmost mysteriously.

  Then it would have been a strange sight for any indifferent spectator tohave seen how they shrunk, one by one, out of the shadow of those ruins;each seeming to be afraid that the vampyre, in some mysterious manner,would catch him if he happened to be the last within their sombreinfluence; and, when they had all collected in the bright, open space,some little distance beyond, they looked at each other and at the ruins,with dubious expressions of countenance, each, no doubt, wishing thateach would suggest something of a consolatory or practicable character.

  "What's to be done, now?" said one.

  "Ah! that's it," said another, sententiously. "I'll be hanged if Iknow."

  "He's given us the slip," remarked a third.

  "But he can't have given us the slip," said one man, who wasparticularly famous for a dogmatical spirit of argumentation; "how is itpossible? he must be here, and I say he is here."

  "Find him, then," cried several at once.

  "Oh! that's nothing to do with the argument; he's here, whether we findhim or not."

  One very cunning fellow laid his finger on his nose, and
beckoned to acomrade to retire some paces, where he delivered himself of thefollowing very oracular sentiment:--

  "My good friend, you must know Sir Francis Varney is here or he isn't."

  "Agreed, agreed."

  "Well, if he isn't here it's no use troubling our heads any more abouthim; but, otherwise, it's quite another thing, and, upon the whole, Imust say, that I rather think he is."

  All looked at him, for it was evident he was big with some suggestion.After a pause, he resumed,--

  "Now, my good friends, I propose that we all appear to give it up, andto go away; but that some one of us shall remain and hide among theruins for some time, to watch, in case the vampyre makes his appearancefrom some hole or corner that we haven't found out."

  "Oh, capital!" said everybody.

  "Then you all agree to that?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "Very good; that's the only way to nick him. Now, we'll pretend to giveit up; let's all of us talk loud about going home."

  They did all talk loud about going home; they swore that it was notworth the trouble of catching him, that they gave it up as a bad job;that he might go to the deuce in any way he liked, for all they cared;and then they all walked off in a body, when, the man who had made thesuggestion, suddenly cried,--

  "Hilloa! hilloa!--stop! stop! you know one of us is to wait?"

  "Oh, ay; yes, yes, yes!" said everybody, and still they moved on.

  "But really, you know, what's the use of this? who's to wait?"

  That was, indeed, a knotty question, which induced a seriousconsultation, ending in their all, with one accord, pitching upon theauthor of the suggestion, as by far the best person to hide in the ruinsand catch the vampyre.

  They then all set off at full speed; but the cunning fellow, whocertainly had not the slightest idea of so practically carrying out hisown suggestion, scampered off after them with a speed that soon broughthim in the midst of the throng again, and so, with fear in their looks,and all the evidences of fatigue about them, they reached the town tospread fresh and more exaggerated accounts of the mysterious conduct ofVarney the vampyre.