Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood

by Thomas Preskett Prest

  CHAPTER LXXXII.

  CHARLES HOLLAND'S PURSUIT OF THE VAMPYRE.--THE DANGEROUS INTERVIEW.

  It will be recollected that the admiral had made a remark about CharlesHolland having suddenly disappeared; and it is for us now to account forthat disappearance and to follow him to the pathway he had chosen.

  The fact was, that he, when Varney fired the shot at the doctor, or whatwas the supposed shot, was the farthest from the vampyre; and he, onthat very account, had the clearest and best opportunity of markingwhich route he took when he had discharged the pistol.

  He was not confused by the smoke, as the others were; nor was he stunnedby the noise of the discharge; but he distinctly saw Varney dart acrossone of the garden beds, and make for the summer-house, instead of forthe garden gate, as Henry had supposed was the most probable path he hadchosen.

  Now, Charles Holland either had an inclination, for some reasons of hisown, to follow the vampyre alone; or, on the spur of the moment, he hadnot time to give an alarm to the others; but certain it is that he did,unaided, rush after him. He saw him enter the summer-house, and pass outof it again at the back portion of it, as he had once before done, whensurprised in his interview with Flora.

  But the vampyre did not now, as he had done on the former occasion, hideimmediately behind the summer-house. He seemed to be well aware thatthat expedient would not answer twice; so he at once sped onwards,clearing the garden fence, and taking to the meadows.

  It formed evidently no part of the intentions of Charles Holland to comeup with him. He was resolved upon dogging his footsteps, to know wherehe should go; so that he might have a knowledge of his hiding-place, ifhe had one.

  "I must and will," said Charles to himself, "penetrate the mystery thathangs about this most strange and inexplicable being. I will have aninterview with him, not in hostility, for I forgive him the evil he hasdone me, but with a kindly spirit; and I will ask him to confide in me."

  Charles, therefore, did not keep so close upon the heels of the vampyreas to excite any suspicions of his intention to follow him; but hewaited by the garden paling long enough not only for Varney to get somedistance off, but long enough likewise to know that the pistol which hadbeen fired at the doctor had produced no real bad effects, exceptsinging some curious tufts of hair upon the sides of his face, which thedoctor was pleased to call whiskers.

  "I thought as much," was Charles's exclamation when he heard thedoctor's voice. "It would have been strikingly at variance with allVarney's other conduct, if he had committed such a deliberate andheartless murder."

  Then, as the form of the vampyre could be but dimly seen, Charles ran onfor some distance in the direction he had taken, and then paused again;so that if Varney heard the sound of footsteps, and paused to listenthey had ceased again probably, and nothing was discernible.

  In this manner he followed the mysterious individual, if we may reallycall him such, for above a mile; and then Varney made a rapid detour,and took his way towards the town.

  He went onwards with wonderful precision now in a right line, notstopping at any obstruction, in the way of fences, hedges, or ditches,so that it took Charles some exertion, to which, just then, he wasscarcely equal, to keep up with him.

  At length the outskirts of the town were gained, and then Varney paused,and looked around him, scarcely allowing Charles, who was now closer tohim than he had been, time to hide himself from observation, which,however, he did accomplish, by casting himself suddenly upon the ground,so that he could not be detected against the sky, which then formed aback ground to the spot where he was.

  Apparently satisfied that he had completely now eluded the pursuit, ifany had been attempted, of those whom he had led in such a state ofconfusion, the vampyre walked hastily towards a house that was to let,and which was only to be reached by going up an avenue of trees, andthen unlocking a gate in a wall which bounded the premises next to theavenue. But the vampyre appeared to be possessed of every facility foreffecting an entrance to the place and, producing from his pocket a key,he at once opened the gate, and disappeared within the precincts ofthose premises.

  He, no doubt, felt that he was hunted by the mob of the town, and hencehis frequent change of residence, since his own had been burnt down,and, indeed, situated as he was, there can be no manner of doubt that hewould have been sacrificed to the superstitious fury of the populace, ifthey could but have got hold of him.

  He had, from his knowledge, which was no doubt accurate and complete, ofwhat had been done, a good idea of what his own fate would be, were heto fall into the hands of that ferocious multitude, each individualcomposing which, felt a conviction that there would be no peace, norhope of prosperity or happiness, on the place, until he, the archvampyre of all the supposed vampyres, was destroyed.

  Charles did pause for a few moments, after having thus become roused, toconsider whether he should then attempt to have the interview he hadresolved upon having by some means or another, or defer it, now that heknew where Varney was to be found, until another time.

  But when he came to consider how extremely likely it was that, even inthe course of a few hours, Varney might shift his abode for some goodand substantial reasons, he at once determined upon attempting to seehim.

  But how to accomplish such a purpose was not the easiest question in theworld to answer. If he rung the bell that presented itself above thegarden gate, was it at all likely that Varney, who had come there forconcealment, would pay any attention to the summons?

  After some consideration, he did, however, think of a plan by which, atall events, he could ensure effecting an entrance into the premises, andthen he would take his chance of finding the mysterious being whom hesought, and who probably might have no particular objection to meetingwith him, Charles Holland, because their last interview in the ruinscould not be said to be otherwise than of a peaceable and calm enoughcharacter.

  He saw by the board, which was nailed in the front of the house, thatall applications to see it were to be made to a Mr. Nash, residing closeat hand; and, as Charles had the appearance of a respectable person, hethought he might possibly have the key entrusted to him, ostensibly tolook at the house, preparatory possibly to taking it, and so he should,at all events, obtain admission.

  He, accordingly, went at once to this Mr. Nash, and asked about thehouse; of course he had to affect an interest in its rental andaccommodations, which he did not feel, in order to lull any suspicion,and, finally, he said,--

  "I should like to look over it if you will lend me the key, which I willshortly bring back to you."

  There was an evident hesitation about the agent when this proposal wascommunicated by Charles Holland, and he said,--

  "I dare say, sir, you wonder that I don't say yes, at once; but the factis there came a gentleman here one day when I was out, and got a key,for we have two to open the house, from my wife, and he never came backagain."

  That this was the means by which Varney, the vampyre, had obtained thekey, by the aid of which Charles had seen him effect so immediate anentrance to the house, there could be no doubt.

  "How long ago were you served that trick?" he said.

  "About two days ago, sir."

  "Well, it only shows how, when one person acts wrongly, another is atonce suspected of a capability to do so likewise. There is my name andmy address; I should like rather to go alone to see the house, because Ialways fancy I can judge better by myself of the accommodation, and Ican stay as long as I like, and ascertain the sizes of all the roomswithout the disagreeable feeling upon my mind, which no amount ofcomplaisance on your part, could ever get me over, that I was mostunaccountably detaining somebody from more important business of theirown."

  "Oh, I assure you, sir," said Mr. Nash, "that I should not be at allimpatient. But if you would rather go alone--"

  "Indeed I would."

  "Oh, then, sir, there is the key. A gentleman who leaves his name andaddress, of course, we can have no objection to. I only told you of whath
appened, sir, in the mere way of conversation, and I hope you won'timagine for a moment that I meant to insinuate that you were going tokeep the key."

  "Oh, certainly not--certainly not," said Charles, who was only too gladto get the key upon any terms. "You are quite right, and I beg you willsay no more about it; I quite understand."

  He then walked off to the empty house again, and, proceeding to theavenue, he fitted the key to the lock, and had the satisfaction offinding the gate instantly yield to him.

  When he passed through it, and closed the door after him, which he didcarefully, he found himself in a handsomely laid-out garden, and saw thehouse a short distance in front of him, standing upon a well got-uplawn.

  He cared not if Varney should see him before he reached the house,because the fact was sufficiently evident to himself that after all hecould not actually enforce an interview with the vampyre. He only hopedthat as he had found him out it would be conceded to him.

  He, therefore, walked up the lawn without making the least attempt atconcealment, and when he reached the house he allowed his footsteps tomake what noise they would upon the stone steps which led up to it. Butno one appeared; nor was there, either by sight or by sound, anyindication of the presence of any living being in the place besideshimself.

  Insensibly, as he contemplated the deserted place around him, the solemnsort of stillness began to have its effect upon his imagination, and,without being aware that he did so, he had, with softness and caution,glided onwards, as if he were bent on some errand requiring the utmostamount of caution and discrimination in the conduction of it.

  And so he entered the hall of the house, where he stood some time, andlistened with the greatest attention, without, however, being able tohear the least sound throughout the whole of the house.

  "And yet he must be here," thought Charles to himself; "I was not gonemany minutes, and it is extremely unlikely that in so short a space oftime he has left, after taking so much trouble, by making such a detouraround the meadows to get here, without being observed. I will examineevery room in the place, but I will find him."

  Charles immediately commenced going from room to room of that house inhis search for the vampyre. There were but four apartments upon theground floor, and these, of course, he quickly ran through. Nothingwhatever at all indicative of any one having been there met his gaze,and with a feeling of disappointment creeping over him, he commenced theascent of the staircase.

  The day had now fairly commenced, so that there was abundance of light,although, even for the country, it was an early hour, and probably Mr.Nash had been not a little surprised to have a call from one whoseappearance bespoke no necessity for rising with the lark at such anhour.

  All these considerations, however, sank into insignificance in Charles'smind, compared with the object he had in view, namely, the unravellingthe many mysteries that hung around that man. He ascended to the landingof the first story, and then, as he could have no choice, he opened thefirst door that his eyes fell upon, and entered a tolerably largeapartment. It was quite destitute of furniture, and at the momentCharles was about to pronounce it empty; but then his eyes fell upon alarge black-looking bundle of something, that seemed to be lying jammedup under the window on the floor--that being the place of all others inthe room which was enveloped in the most shadow.

  He started back involuntarily at the moment, for the appearance was oneso shapeless, that there was no such thing as defining, from even thatdistance, what it really was.

  Then he slowly and cautiously approached it, as we always approach thatof the character of which we are ignorant, and concerning the powers ofwhich to do injury we can consequently have no defined idea.

  That it was a human form there, was the first tangible opinion he hadabout it; and from its profound stillness, and the manner in which itseemed to be laid close under the window, he thought that he was surelyupon the point of finding out that some deed of blood had beencommitted, the unfortunate victim of which was now lying before him.

  Upon a nearer examination, he found that the whole body, including thegreater part of the head and face, was wrapped in a large cloak; andthere, as he gazed, he soon found cause to correct his first opinion atto the form belonging to the dead, for he could distinctly hear theregular breathing, as of some one in a sound and dreamless sleep.

  Closer he went, and closer still. Then, as he clasped his hands, hesaid, in a voice scarcely above a whisper,--

  "It is--it is the vampyre."

  Yes, there could be no doubt of the fact. It was Sir Francis Varney wholay there, enveloped in the huge horseman's cloak, in which, on two orthree occasions during the progress of this narrative, he had figured.There he lay, at the mercy completely of any arm that might be raisedagainst him, apparently so overcome by fatigue that no ordinary noisewould have awakened him.

  Well might Charles Holland gaze at him with mingled feelings. There laythe being who had done almost enough to drive the beautiful FloraBannerworth distracted--the being who had compelled the Bannerworthfamily to leave their ancient house, to which they had been bound byevery description of association. The same mysterious existence, too,who, the better to carry on his plots and plans, had, by dint ofviolence, immured him, Charles, in a dungeon, and loaded him withchains. There he lay sleeping, and at his mercy.

  "Shall I awaken him," said Charles, "or let him sleep off the fatigue,which, no doubt, is weighing down his limbs, and setting heavily on hiseyelids. No, my business with him is too urgent."

  He then raised his voice, and cried,--

  "Varney, Varney, awake!"

  The sound disturbed, without altogether breaking up, the deep slumber ofthe vampyre, and he uttered a low moan, and moved one hand restlessly.Then, as if that disturbance of the calm and deep repose which had satupon him, had given at once the reins to fancy, he begin to mutterstrange words in his sleep, some of which could be heard by Charlesdistinctly, while others were too incoherently uttered to be clearlyunderstood.

  "Where is it?" he said; "where--where hidden?--Pull the housedown!--Murder! No, no, no! no murder!--I will not, I dare not. Bloodenough is upon my hands.--The money!--the money! Down, villains! down!down! down!"

  What these incoherent words alluded to specifically, Charles, of course,could not have the least idea, but he listened attentively, with a hopethat something might fall from his lips that would afford a key to someof the mysterious circumstances with which he was so intimatelyconnected.

  Now, however, there was a longer silence than before, only brokenoccasionally by low moans; but suddenly, as Charles was thinking ofagain speaking, he uttered some more disjointed sentences.

  "No harm," he said, "no harm,--Marchdale is a villain!--Not a hair ofhis head injured--no, no. Set him free--yes, I will set him free.Beware! beware, Marchdale! and you Mortimer. The scaffold! ay, thescaffold! but where is the bright gold? The memory of the deed of bloodwill not cling to it. Where is it hidden? The gold! the gold! the gold!It is not in the grave--it cannot be there--no, no, no!--not there, notthere! Load the pistols. There, there! Down, villain, down!--down,down!"

  Despairing, now, of obtaining anything like tangible information fromthese ravings, which, even if they did, by accident, so connectthemselves together as to seem to mean something, Charles again criedaloud,--

  "Varney, awake, awake!"

  But, as before, the sleeping man was sufficiently deaf to the cry toremain, with his eyes closed, still in a disturbed slumber, but yet aslumber which might last for a considerable time.

  "I have heard," said Charles, "that there are many persons whom no noisewill awaken, while the slightest touch rouses them in an instant. I willtry that upon this slumbering being."

  As he spoke, he advanced close to Sir Francis Varney, and touched himslightly with the toe of his boot.

  The effect was as startling as it was instantaneous. The vampyre sprangto his feet, as he had been suddenly impelled up by some powerfulmachinery; and, casting his cloak away from his arms,
so as to have themat liberty, he sprang upon Charles Holland, and hurled him to theground, where he held him with a giant's gripe, as he cried,--

  "Rash fool! be you whom you may. Why have you troubled me to rid theworld of your intrusive existence?"

  The attack was so sudden and so terrific, that resistance to it, even ifCharles had had the power, was out of the question. All he could say,was,--

  "Varney, Varney! do you not know me? I am Charles Holland. Will you now,in your mad rage, take the life you might more easily have taken when Ilay in the dungeon from which you released me?"

  The sound of his voice at once convinced Sir Francis Varney of hisidentity; and it was with a voice that had some tones of regret in it,that he replied,--

  "And wherefore have you thought proper, when you were once free andunscathed, to cast yourself into such a position of danger as to followme to my haunt?"

  "I contemplated no danger," said Charles, "because I contemplated noevil. I do not know why you should kill me."

  "You came here, and yet you say you do not know why I should kill you.Young man, have you a dozen lives that you can afford to tamper withthem thus? I have, at much chance of imminence to myself, already oncesaved you, when another, with a sterner feeling, would have gladly takenyour life; but now, as if you were determined to goad me to an act whichI have shunned committing, you will not let me close my eyes in peace."

  "Take your hand from off my throat, Varney, and I will then tell youwhat brought me here."

  Sir Francis Varney did so.

  "Rise," he said--"rise; I have seen blood enough to be sickened at theprospect of more; but you should not have come here and tempted me."

  "Nay, believe me, I came here for good and not for evil. Sir FrancisVarney, hear me out, and then judge for yourself whether you can blamethe perseverance which enabled me to find out this secret place ofrefuge; but let me first say that now it is as good a place ofconcealment to you as before it was, for I shall not betray you."

  "Go on, go on. What is it you desire?"

  "During the long and weary hours of my captivity, I thought deeply, andpainfully too, as may be well imagined, of all the circumstancesconnected with your appearance at Bannerworth Hall, and your subsequentconduct. Then I felt convinced that there was something far more thanmet the eye, in the whole affair, and, from what I have been informed ofsince, I am the more convinced that some secret, some mystery, which itis in your power only perhaps to explain, lurks at the bottom of allyour conduct."

  "Well, proceed," said Varney.

  "Have I not said enough now to enable you to divine the object of myvisit? It is that you should shake off the trammels of mystery in whichyou have shrouded yourself, and declare what it is you want, what it isyou desire, that has induced you to set yourself up as such a determinedfoe of the Bannerworth family."

  "And that, you say, is the modest request that brings you here?"

  "You speak as if you thought it was idle curiosity that prompts me, butyou know it is not. Your language and manner are those of a man of toomuch sagacity not to see that I have higher notions."

  "Name them."

  "You have yourself, in more than one instance, behaved with a strangesort of romantic generosity, as if, but for some great object which youfelt impelled to seek by any means, and at any sacrifice, you would be asomething in character and conduct very different from what you are. Oneof my objects, then, is to awaken that better nature which is slumberingwithin you, only now and then rousing itself to do some deed whichshould be the character of all your actions--for your own sake I havecome."

  "But not wholly?"

  "Not wholly, as you say. There is another than whom, the whole world isnot so dear to me. That other one was serene as she was beautiful.Happiness danced in her eyes, and she ought--for not more lovely is themind that she possesses than the glorious form that enshrines it--to behappy. Her life should have passed like one long summer's day of beauty,sunshine, and pure heavenly enjoyment. You have poisoned the cup of joythat the great God of nature had permitted her to place to her lips andtaste of mistrustingly. Why have you done this? I ask you--why have youdone this?"

  "Have you said all that you came to say?"

  "I have spoken the substance of my message. Much could I elaborate uponsuch a theme; but it is not one, Varney, which is congenial to my heart;for your sake, however, and for the sakes of those whom I hold mostdear, let me implore you to act in this matter with a kindlyconsideration. Proclaim your motives; you cannot say that they are notsuch as we may aid you in."

  Varney was silent for several moments; he seemed perceptibly moved bythe manner of the young man, as well as by the matter of his discourse.In fact, one would suppose that Charles Holland had succeeded ininvesting what he said with some sort of charm that won much upon thefancy of Sir Francis Varney, for when he ceased to speak, the lattersaid in a low voice,--

  "Go on, go on; you have surely much more to say."

  "No, Varney; I have said enough, and not thus much would I have said hadI not been aware, most certainly and truly aware, without the shadow ofa doubt, by your manner, that you were most accessible to humanfeeling."

  "I accessible to human feeling! know you to whom you speak? Am I not hebefore whom all men shudder, whose name has been a terror and adesolation; and yet you can talk of my human feelings. Nay, if I had hadany, be sure they would have been extinguished by the persecutions Ihave endured from those who, you know, with savage ferocity have soughtmy life."

  "No, Varney; I give you credit for being a subtler reasoner than thus toargue; you know well that you were the aggressor to those parties whosought your life; you know well that with the greatest imaginable painsyou held yourself up to them as a thing of great terror."

  "I did--I did."

  "You cannot, then, turn round upon ignorant persons, and blame thembecause your exertions to make yourself seem what you wish were but toosuccessful."

  "You use the word _seem_," said Varney, with a bitterness of aspect, "asif you would imply a doubt that I am that which thousands, by theirfears, would testify me to be."

  "Thousands might," said Charles Holland; "but not among them am I,Varney; I will not be made the victim of superstition. Were you to enactbefore my very eyes some of those feats which, to the senses of others,would stamp you as the preternatural being you assume to be, I woulddoubt the evidence of my own senses ere I permitted such a bugbear tooppress my brain."

  "Go," said Sir Francis Varney, "go: I have no more words for you; I havenothing to relate to you."

  "Nay, you have already listened sufficiently to me to give me a hopethat I had awakened some of the humanity that was in your nature. Donot, Sir Francis Varney, crush that hope, even as it was budding forth;not for my own sake do I ask you for revelations; that may,perhaps--must be painful for you; but for the sake of Flora Bannerworth,to whom you owe abundance of reparation."

  "No, no."

  "In the name of all that is great, and good, and just, I call upon youfor justice."

  "What have I to do with such an invocation? Utter such a sentiment tomen who, like yourself, are invested with the reality as well as theoutward show of human nature."

  "Nay, Sir Francis Varney, now you belie yourself. You have passedthrough a long, and, perchance, a stormy life. Can you look back uponyour career, and find no reminiscences of the past that shall convinceyou that you are of the great family of man, and have had abundance ofhuman feelings and of human affections?"

  "Peace, peace!"

  "Nay, Sir Francis Varney, I will take your word, and if you will layyour hand upon your heart, and tell me truly that you never felt what itwas to love--to have all feeling, all taste, and all hope of future joy,concentrated in one individual, I will despair, and leave you. If youwill tell me that never, in your whole life, you have felt for any fairand glorious creature, as I now feel for Flora Bannerworth, a being forwhom you could have sacrificed not only existence, but all the hopes ofa glorious future that bloom ar
ound it--if you will tell me, with thecalm, dispassionate aspect of truth, that you have held yourself alooffrom such human feelings, I will no longer press you to a disclosurewhich I shall bring no argument to urge."

  The agitation of Sir Francis Varney's countenance was perceptible, andCharles Holland was about to speak again, when, striking him upon thebreast with his clinched hand, the vampyre checked him, saying--

  "Do you wish to drive me mad, that you thus, from memory's hidden cells,conjure up images of the past?"

  "Then there are such images to conjure up--there are such shadows onlysleeping, but which require only, as you did even now, but a touch toawaken them to life and energy. Oh, Sir Francis Varney, do not tell methat you are not human."

  The vampyre made a furious gesture, as if he would have attacked CharlesHolland; but then he sank nearly to the floor, as if soul-stricken bysome recollection that unnerved his arm; he shook with unwonted emotion,and, from the frightful livid aspect of his countenance, Charles dreadedsome serious accession of indisposition, which might, if nothing elsedid, prevent him from making the revelation he so much sought to hearfrom his lips.

  "Varney," he cried, "Varney, be calm! you will be listened to by one whowill draw no harsh--no hasty conclusions; by one, who, with thatcharity, I grieve to say, is rare, will place upon the words you utterthe most favourable construction. Tell me all, I pray you, tell me all."

  "This is strange," said the vampyre. "I never thought that aught humancould thus have moved me. Young man, you have touched the chords ofmemory; they vibrate throughout my heart, producing cadences and soundsof years long past. Bear with me awhile."

  "And you will speak to me?"

  "I will."

  "Having your promise, then, I am content, Varney."

  "But you must be secret; not even in the wildest waste of nature, whereyou can well presume that naught but Heaven can listen to yourwhisperings, must you utter one word of that which I shall tell to you."

  "Alas!" said Charles, "I dare not take such a confidence; I have saidthat it is not for myself; I seek such knowledge of what you are, andwhat you have been, but it is for another so dear to me, that all thecharms of life that make up other men's delights, equal not the witcheryof one glance from her, speaking as it does of the glorious light fromthat Heaven which is eternal, from whence she sprung."

  "And you reject my communication," said Varney, "because I will not giveyou leave to expose it to Flora Bannerworth?"

  "It must be so."

  "And you are most anxious to hear that which I have to relate?"

  "Most anxious, indeed--indeed, most anxious."

  "Then have I found in that scruple which besets your mind, a betterargument for trusting you, than had ye been loud in protestation. Hadyour promises of secrecy been but those which come from the lip, and notfrom the heart, my confidence would not have been rejected on suchgrounds. I think that I dare trust you."

  "With leave to tell to Flora that which you shall communicate."

  "You may whisper it to her, but to no one else, without my special leaveand licence."

  "I agree to those terms, and will religiously preserve them."

  "I do not doubt you for one moment; and now I will tell to you whatnever yet has passed my lips to mortal man. Now will I connect togethersome matters which you may have heard piecemeal from others."

  "What others are they?"

  "Dr. Chillingworth, and he who once officiated as a London hangman."

  "I have heard something from those quarters."

  "Listen then to me, and you shall better understand that which you haveheard. Some years ago, it matters not the number, on a stormy night,towards the autumn of the year, two men sat alone in poverty, and thatspecies of distress which beset the haughty, profligate, daring man, whohas been accustomed all his life to its most enticing enjoyments, butnever to that industry which alone ought to produce them, and renderthem great and magnificent."

  "Two men; and who were they?"

  "I was one. Look upon me! I was of those men; and strong and evilpassions were battling in my heart."

  "And the other!"

  "Was Marmaduke Bannerworth."

  "Gracious Heaven! the father of her whom I adore; the suicide."

  "Yes, the same; that man stained with a thousand vices--blasted by athousand crimes--the father of her who partakes nothing of his nature,who borrows nothing from his memory but his name--was the man who theresat with me, plotting and contriving how, by fraud or violence, we wereto lead our usual life of revelry and wild audacious debauch."

  "Go on, go on; believe me, I am deeply interested."

  "I can see as much. We were not nice in the various schemes which ourprolific fancies engendered. If trickery, and the false dice at thegaming-table, sufficed not to fill our purses, we were bold enough forviolence. If simple robbery would not succeed, we could take a life."

  "Murder?"

  "Ay, call it by its proper name, a murder. We sat till the midnight hourhad passed, without arriving at a definite conclusion; we saw no plan ofpracticable operation, and so we wandered onwards to one of those deepdens of iniquity, a gaming-house, wherein we had won and lost thousands.

  "We had no money, but we staked largely, in the shape of a wager, uponthe success of one of the players; we knew not, or cared not, for theconsequence, if we had lost; but, as it happened, we were largelysuccessful, and beggars as we had walked into that place, we might haveleft it independent men.

  "But when does the gambler know when to pause in his career? If defeatawakens all the raging passions of humanity within his bosom, successbut feeds the great vice that has been there engendered. To the dawn ofmorn we played; the bright sun shone in, and yet we played--the middaycame, and went--the stimulant of wine supported us, and still we played;then came the shadows of evening, stealing on in all their beauty. Butwhat were they to us, amid those mutations of fortune, which, at onemoment, made us princes, and placed palaces at our control, and, atanother, debased us below the veriest beggar, that craves the stintedalms of charity from door to door.

  "And there was one man who, from the first to the last, stayed by uslike a very fiend; more than man, I thought he was not human. We won ofall, but of him. People came and brought their bright red gold, and laidit down before us, but for us to take it up, and then, by a cruel strokeof fortune, he took it from us.

  "The night came on; we won, and he won of us; the clock strucktwelve--we were beggars. God knows what was he.

  "We saw him place his winnings about his person--we saw the smile thatcurved the corners of his lips; he was calm, and we were maddened. Theblood flowed temperately through his veins, but in ours it was burninglava, scorching as it went through every petty artery, and drying up allhuman thought--all human feeling.

  "The winner left, and we tracked his footsteps. When he reached the openair, although he had taken much less than we of the intoxicatingbeverages that are supplied gratis to those who frequent those haunts ofinfamy, it was evident that some sort of inebriation attacked him; hissteps were disordered and unsteady, and, as we followed him, we couldperceive, by the devious track that he took, that he was somewhatuncertain of his route.

  "We had no fixed motive in so pursuing this man. It was but an impulsiveproceeding at the best; but as he still went on and cleared the streets,getting into the wild and open country, and among the hedge-rows, webegan to whisper together, and to think that what we did not owe tofortune, we might to our own energy and courage at such a moment.

  "I need not hesitate to say so, since, to hide the most importantfeature of my revelation from you, would be but to mock you; we resolvedupon robbing him.

  "And was that all?"

  "It was all that our resolution went to. We were not anxious to spillblood; but still we were resolved that we would accomplish our purpose,even if it required murder for its consummation. Have you heard enough?"

  "I have not heard enough, although I guess the rest."

  "You ma
y well guess it, from its preface. He turned down a lonelypathway, which, had we chosen it ourselves, could not have been moresuitable for the attack we meditated.

  "There were tall trees on either side, and a hedge-row stretching highup between them. We knew that that lane led to a suburban village,which, without a doubt, was the object of his destination.

  "Then Marmaduke Bannerworth spoke, saying,--

  "'What we have to do, must be done now or never. There needs not two inthis adventure. Shall you or I require him to refund what he has wonfrom us?'

  "'I care not,' I said; 'but if we are to accomplish our purpose withoutarousing even a shadow of resistance, it is better to show him itsfutility by both appearing, and take a share in the adventure.'

  "This was agreed upon, and we hastened forward. He heard footstepspursuing him and quickened his pace. I was the fleetest runner, andovertook him. I passed him a pace or two, and then turning, I faced him,and impeded his progress.

  "The lane was narrow, and a glance behind him showed him MarmadukeBannerworth; so that he was hemmed in between two enemies, and couldmove neither to the right nor to the left, on account of the thickbrushwood that intervened between the trees.

  "Then, with an assumed courage, that sat but ill upon him, he demandedof us what we wanted, and proclaimed his right to pass despite theobstruction we placed in his way.

  "The dialogue was brief. I, being foremost, spoke to him.

  "'Your money,' I said; 'your winnings at the gaming-table. We cannot,and we will not lose it.'

  "So suddenly, that he had nearly taken my life, he drew a pistol fromhis pocket, and levelling it at my head, he fired upon me.

  "Perhaps, had I moved, it might have been my death; but, as it was, thebullet furrowed my cheek, leaving a scar, the path of which is yetvisible in a white cicatrix.

  "I felt a stunning sensation, and thought myself a dead man. I criedaloud to Marmaduke Bannerworth, and he rushed forward. I knew not thathe was armed, and that he had the power about him to do the deed whichhe then accomplished; but there was a groan, a slight struggle, and thesuccessful gamester fell upon the green sward, bathed in his blood."

  "And this is the father of her whom I adore?"

  "It is. Are you shocked to think of such a neat relationship between somuch beauty and intelligence and a midnight murderer? Is your philosophyso poor, that the daughter's beauty suffers from the commission of afather's crime?"

  "No, no, It is not so. Do not fancy that, for one moment, I canentertain such unworthy opinions. The thought that crossed me was that Ishould have to tell one of such a gentle nature that her father had donesuch a deed."

  "On that head you can use your own discretion. The deed was done; therewas sufficient light for us to look upon the features of the dying man.Ghastly and terrific they glared upon us; while the glazed eyes, as theywere upturned to the bright sky, seemed appealing to Heaven forvengeance against us, for having done the deed.

  "Many a day and many an hour since at all times and all seasons, I haveseen those eyes, with the glaze of death upon them, following me, andgloating over the misery they had the power to make. I think I see themnow."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes; look--look--see how they glare upon me--with what a fixed andfrightful stare the bloodshot pupils keep their place--there, there! oh!save me from such a visitation again. It is too horrible. I dare not--Icannot endure it; and yet why do you gaze at me with such an aspect,dread visitant? You know that it was not my hand that did the deed--wholaid you low. You know that not to me are you able to lay the heavycharge of your death!"

  "Varney, you look upon vacancy," said Charles Holland.

  "No, no; vacancy it may be to you, but to me 'tis full of horribleshapes."

  "Compose yourself; you have taken me far into your confidence already; Ipray you now to tell me all. I have in my brain no room for horribleconjectures such as those which might else torment me."

  Varney was silent for a few minutes, and then he wiped from his brow theheavy drops of perspiration that had there gathered, and heaved a deepsigh.

  "Speak to me," added Charles; "nothing will so much relieve you from theterrors of this remembrance as making a confidence which reflection willapprove of, and which you will know that you have no reason to repent."

  "Charles Holland," said Varney, "I have already gone too far toretract--much too far, I know, and can well understand all the danger ofhalf confidence. You already know so much, that it is fit you shouldknow more."

  "Go on then, Varney, I will listen to you."

  "I know not if, at this juncture, I can command myself to say more. Ifeel that what next has to be told will be most horrible for me totell--most sad for you to hear told."

  "I can well believe, Varney, from your manner of speech, and from thewords you use, that you have some secret to relate beyond this simplefact of the murder of this gamester by Marmaduke Bannerworth."

  "You are right--such is the fact; the death of that man could not havemoved me as you now see me moved. There is a secret connected with hisfate which I may well hesitate to utter--a secret even to whisper to thewinds of heaven--I--although I did not do the deed, no, no--I--I did notstrike the blow--not I--not I!"

  "Varney, it is astonishing to me the pains you take to assure yourselfof your innocence of this deed; no one accuses you, but still, were itnot that I am impressed with a strong conviction that you're speaking tome nothing but the truth, the very fact of your extreme anxiety toacquit yourself, would engender suspicion."

  "I can understand that feeling, Charles Holland; I can fully understandit. I do not blame you for it--it is a most natural one; but when youknow all, you will feel with me how necessary it must have been to mypeace to seize upon every trivial circumstance that can help me to abelief in my own innocence."

  "It may be so; as yet, you well know, I speak in ignorance. But whatcould there have been in the character of that gambler, that has madeyou so sympathetic concerning his decease?"

  "Nothing--nothing whatever in his character. He was a bad man; not oneof those free, open spirits which are seduced into crime bythoughtlessness--not one of those whom we pity, perchance, more than wecondemn; but a man without a redeeming trait in his disposition--a manso heaped up with vices and iniquities, that society gained much by hisdecease, and not an individual could say that he had lost a friend."

  "And yet the mere thought of the circumstances connected with his deathseems almost to drive you to the verge of despair."

  "You are right; the mere thought has that effect."

  "You have aroused all my curiosity to know the causes of such afeeling."

  Varney paced the apartment in silence for many minutes. He seemed to beenduring a great mental struggle, and at length, when he turned toCharles Holland and spoke, there were upon his countenance traces ofdeep emotion.

  "I have said, young man, that I will take you into my confidence. I havesaid that I will clear up many seeming mysteries, and that I will enableyou to understand what was obscure in the narrative of Dr.Chillingworth, and of that man who filled the office of publicexecutioner, and who has haunted me so long."

  "It is true, then, as the doctor states, that you were executed inLondon?"

  "I was."

  "And resuscitated by the galvanic process, put into operation by Dr.Chillingworth?"

  "As he supposed; but there are truths connected with natural philosophywhich he dreamed not of. I bear a charmed life, and it was but accidentwhich produced a similar effect upon the latent springs of my existencein the house to which the executioner conducted me, to what would havebeen produced had I been sufficed, in the free and open air, to waituntil the cool moonbeams fell upon me."

  "Varney, Varney," said Charles Holland, "you will not succeed inconvincing me of your supernatural powers. I hold such feelings andsensations at arm's length. I will not--I cannot assume you to be whatyou affect."

  "I ask for no man's belief. I know that which I know, and, gatheringexperien
ce from the coincidences of different phenomena, I am compelledto arrive at certain conclusions. Believe what you please, doubt whatyou please; but I say again that I am not as other men."

  "I am in no condition to depute your proposition; I wish not to disputeit; but you are wandering, Varney, from the point. I wait anxiously fora continuation of your narrative."

  "I know that I am wandering from it--I know well that I am wanderingfrom it, and that the reason I do so is that I dread that continuation."

  "That dread will nor be the less for its postponement."

  "You are right; but tell me, Charles Holland, although you are young youhave been about in the great world sufficiently to form correctopinions, and to understand that which is related to you, drawing properdeductions from certain facts, and arriving possibly at more correctconclusions than some of maturer years with less wisdom."

  "I will freely answer, Varney, any question you may put to me."

  "I know it; tell me then what measure of guilt you attach to me in thetransaction I have noticed to you."

  "It seems then to me that, not contemplating the man's murder, youcannot be accused of the act, although a set of fortuitous circumstancesmade you appear an accomplice to its commission."

  "You think I may be acquitted?"

  "You can acquit yourself, knowing that you did not contemplate themurder."

  "I did not contemplate it. I know not what desperate deed I should havestopped short at then, in the height of my distress, but I neithercontemplated taking that man's life, nor did I strike the blow whichsent him from existence."

  "There is even some excuse as regards the higher crime for MarmadukeBannerworth."

  "Think you so?"

  "Yes; he thought that you were killed, and impulsively he might havestruck the blow that made him a murderer."

  "Be it so. I am willing, extremely willing that anything should occurthat should remove the odium of guilt from any man. Be it so, I say,with all my heart; but now, Charles Holland, I feel that we must meetagain ere I can tell you all; but in the meantime let Flora Bannerworthrest in peace--she need dread nothing from me. Avarice and revenge, thetwo passions which found a home in my heart, are now stifled for ever."

  "Revenge! did you say revenge?"

  "I did; whence the marvel, am I not sufficiently human for that?"

  "But you coupled it with the name of Flora Bannerworth."

  "I did, and that is part of my mystery."

  "A mystery, indeed, to imagine that such a being as Flora could awakenany such feeling in your heart--a most abundant mystery."

  "It is so. I do not affect to deny it: but yet it is true, although sogreatly mysterious, but tell her that although at one time I looked uponher as one whom I cared not if I injured, her beauty and distresschanged the current of my thoughts, and won upon me greatly, From themoment I found I had the power to become the bane of her existence, Iceased to wish to be so, and never again shall she experience a pang ofalarm from Varney, the vampyre."

  "Your message shall be faithfully delivered, and doubt not that it willbe received with grateful feelings. Nevertheless I should have muchwished to have been in a position to inform her of more particulars."

  "Come to me here at midnight to-morrow, and you shall know all. I willhave no reservation with you, no concealments; you shall know whom Ihave had to battle against, and how it is that a world of evil passionstook possession of my heart and made me what I am."

  "Are you firm in this determination, Varney--will you indeed tell me nomore to-night?"

  "No more, I have said it. Leave me now. I have need of more repose, forof late sleep has seldom closed my eyelids."

  Charles Holland was convinced, from the positive manner in which hespoke, that nothing more in the shape of information, at that time, wasto be expected from Varney; and being fearful that if he urged thisstrange being too far, at a time when he did not wish it, he mightrefuse all further communication, he thought it prudent to leave him, sohe said to him,--

  "Be assured, Varney, I shall keep the appointment you have made, with anexpectation when we do meet of being rewarded by a recital of some fullparticulars."

  "You shall not be disappointed; farewell, farewell!"

  Charles Holland bade him adieu, and left the place.

  Although he had now acquired all the information he hoped to take awaywith him when Varney first began to be communicative, yet, when he cameto consider how strange and unaccountable a being he had been incommunication with, Charles could not but congratulate himself that hehad heard so much, for, from the manner of Varney, he could well supposethat that was, indeed, the first time he had been so communicative uponsubjects which evidently held so conspicuous a place in his heart.

  And he had abundance of hope, likewise, from what had been said byVarney, that he would keep his word, and communicate to him fully allelse that he required to know; and when he recollected those words whichVarney had used, signifying that he knew the danger of half confidences,that hope grew into a certainty, and Charles began to have no doubt butthat on the next evening all that was mysterious in the various affairsconnected with the vampyre would become clear and open to the light ofday.

  He strolled down the lane in which the lone house was situated,revolving these matters in his mind, and when he arrived at itsentrance, he was rather surprised to see a throng of persons hastilymoving onward, with come appearance of dismay about them, and anxietydepicted upon their countenances.

  He stopped a lad, and inquired of him the cause of the seeming tumult.

  "Why, sir, the fact is," said the boy, "a crowd from the town's beenburning down Bannerworth Hall, and they've killed a man."

  "Bannerworth Hall! you must be mistaken."

  "Well, sir, I ought not to call it Bannerworth Hall, because I mean theold ruins in the neighbourhood that are supposed to have been originallyBannerworth Hall before the house now called such was built; and,moreover, as the Bannerworths have always had a garden there, and two orthree old sheds, the people in the town called it Bannerworth Hall incommon with the other building."

  "I understand. And do you say that all have been destroyed?"

  "Yes, sir. All that was capable of being burnt has been burnt, and, whatis more, a man has been killed among the ruins. We don't know who he is,but the folks said he was a vampyre, and they left him for dead."

  "When will these terrible outrages cease? Oh! Varney, Varney, you havemuch to answer for; even if in your conscience you succeed in acquittingyourself of the murder, some of the particulars concerning which youhave informed me of."