CHAPTER XVII.
THE EXPLANATION.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE ADMIRAL AT THE HOUSE.--A SCENE OFCONFUSION, AND SOME OF ITS RESULTS.
So sudden and so utterly unexpected a cry of alarm from Flora, at such atime might well have the effect of astounding the nerves of any one, andno wonder that Charles was for a few seconds absolutely petrified andalmost unable to think.
Mechanically, then, he turned his eyes towards the door of thesummer-house, and there he saw a tall, thin man, rather elegantlydressed, whose countenance certainly, in its wonderful resemblance tothe portrait on the panel, might well appal any one.
The stranger stood in the irresolute attitude on the threshold of thesummer-house of one who did not wish to intrude, but who found it asawkward, if not more so now, to retreat than to advance.
Before Charles Holland could summon any words to his aid, or think offreeing himself from the clinging grasp of Flora, which was wound aroundhim, the stranger made a very low and courtly bow, after which he said,in winning accents,--
"I very much fear that I am an intruder here. Allow me to offer mywarmest apologies, and to assure you, sir, and you, madam, that I had noidea any one was in the arbour. You perceive the rain is fallingsmartly, and I made towards here, seeing it was likely to shelter mefrom the shower."
These words were spoken in such a plausible and courtly tone of voice,that they might well have become any drawing-room in the kingdom.
Flora kept her eyes fixed upon him during the utterance of these words;and as she convulsively clutched the arm of Charles, she kept onwhispering,--
"The vampyre! the vampyre!"
"I much fear," added the stranger, in the same bland tones, "that I havebeen the cause of some alarm to the young lady!"
"Release me," whispered Charles to Flora. "Release me; I will follow himat once."
"No, no--do not leave me--do not leave me. The vampyre--the dreadfulvampyre!"
"But, Flora--"
"Hush--hush--hush! It speaks again."
"Perhaps I ought to account for my appearance in the garden at all,"added the insinuating stranger. "The fact is, I came on a visit--"
Flora shuddered.
"To Mr. Henry Bannerworth," continued the stranger; "and finding thegarden-gate open, I came in without troubling the servants, which I muchregret, as I can perceive I have alarmed and annoyed the lady. Madam,pray accept of my apologies."
"In the name of God, who are you?" said Charles.
"My name is Varney."
"Oh, yes. You are the Sir Francis Varney, residing close by, who bearsso fearful a resemblance to--"
"Pray go on, sir. I am all attention."
"To a portrait here."
"Indeed! Now I reflect a moment, Mr. Henry Bannerworth did incidentallymention something of the sort. It's a most singular coincidence."
The sound of approaching footsteps was now plainly heard, and in a fewmoments Henry and George, along with Mr. Marchdale, reached the spot.Their appearance showed that they had made haste, and Henry at onceexclaimed,--
"We heard, or fancied we heard, a cry of alarm."
"You did hear it," said Charles Holland. "Do you know this gentleman?"
"It is Sir Francis Varney."
"Indeed!"
Varney bowed to the new comers, and was altogether as much at his easeas everybody else seemed quite the contrary. Even Charles Holland foundthe difficulty of going up to such a well-bred, gentlemanly man, andsaying, "Sir, we believe you to be a vampyre"--to be almost, if notinsurmountable.
"I cannot do it," he thought, "but I will watch him."
"Take me away," whispered Flora. "'Tis he--'tis he. Oh, take me away,Charles."
"Hush, Flora, hush. You are in some error; the accidental resemblanceshould not make us be rude to this gentleman."
"The vampyre!--it is the vampyre!"
"Are you sure, Flora?"
"Do I know your features--my own--my brother's? Do not ask me todoubt--I cannot. I am quite sure. Take me from his hideous presence,Charles."
"The young lady, I fear, is very much indisposed," remarked Sir FrancisVarney, in a sympathetic tone of voice. "If she will accept of my arm, Ishall esteem it a great honour."
"No--no--no!--God! no," cried Flora.
"Madam, I will not press you."
He bowed, and Charles led Flora from the summer-house towards the hall.
"Flora," he said, "I am bewildered--I know not what to think. That manmost certainly has been fashioned after the portrait which is on thepanel in the room you formerly occupied; or it has been painted fromhim."
"He is my midnight visitor!" exclaimed Flora. "He is the vampyre;--thisSir Francis Varney is the vampyre."
"Good God! What can be done?"
"I know not. I am nearly distracted."
"Be calm, Flora. If this man be really what you name him, we now knowfrom what quarter the mischief comes, which is, at all events, a pointgained. Be assured we shall place a watch upon him."
"Oh, it is terrible to meet him here."
"And he is so wonderfully anxious, too, to possess the Hall."
"He is--he is."
"It looks strange, the whole affair. But, Flora, be assured of onething, and that is, of your own safety."
"Can I be assured of that?"
"Most certainly. Go to your mother now. Here we are, you see, fairlywithin doors. Go to your mother, dear Flora, and keep yourself quiet. Iwill return to this mysterious man now with a cooler judgment than Ileft him."
"You will watch him, Charles?"
"I will, indeed."
"And you will not let him approach the house here alone?"
"I will not."
"Oh, that the Almighty should allow such beings to haunt the earth!"
"Hush, Flora, hush! we cannot judge of his allwise purpose."
'"Tis hard that the innocent should be inflicted with its presence."
Charles bowed his head in mournful assent.
"Is it not very, very dreadful?"
"Hush--hush! Calm yourself, dearest, calm yourself. Recollect that allwe have to go upon in this matter is a resemblance, which, after all,may be accidental. But leave it all to me, and be assured that now Ihave some clue to this affair, I will not lose sight of it, or of SirFrancis Varney."
So saying, Charles surrendered Flora to the care of her mother, and thenwas hastening back to the summer-house, when he met the whole partycoming towards the Hall, for the rain was each moment increasing inintensity.
"We are returning," remarked Sir Francis Varney, with a half bow and asmile, to Charles.
"Allow me," said Henry, "to introduce you, Mr. Holland, to ourneighbour, Sir Francis Varney."
Charles felt himself compelled to behave with courtesy, although hismind was so full of conflicting feelings as regarded Varney; but therewas no avoiding, without such brutal rudeness as was inconsistent withall his pursuits and habits, replying in something like the same strainto the extreme courtly politeness of the supposed vampyre.
"I will watch him closely," thought Charles. "I can do no more thanwatch him closely."
Sir Francis Varney seemed to be a man of the most general and discursiveinformation. He talked fluently and pleasantly upon all sorts of topics,and notwithstanding he could not but have heard what Flora had said ofhim, he asked no questions whatever upon that subject.
This silence as regarded a matter which would at once have induced somesort of inquiry from any other man, Charles felt told much against him,and he trembled to believe for a moment that, after all, it really mightbe true.
"Is he a vampyre?" he asked himself. "Are there vampyres, and is thisman of fashion--this courtly, talented, educated gentleman one?" It wasa perfectly hideous question.
"You are charmingly situated here," remarked Varney, as, after ascendingthe few steps that led to the hall door, he turned and looked at theview from that slight altitude.
"The place has been much esteemed," said Henry, "for its picturesquebeauties of scenery."
"And well it may be. I trust, Mr. Holland, the young lady is muchbetter?"
"She is, sir," said Charles.
"I was not honoured by an introduction."
"It was my fault," said Henry, who spoke to his extraordinary guest withan air of forced hilarity. "It was my fault for not introducing you tomy sister."
"And that was your sister?"
"It was, sir."
"Report has not belied her--she is beautiful. But she looks rather pale,I thought. Has she bad health?"
"The best of health."
"Indeed! Perhaps the little disagreeable circumstance, which is made somuch food for gossip in the neighbourhood, has affected her spirits?"
"It has."
"You allude to the supposed visit here of a vampyre?" said Charles, ashe fixed his eyes upon Varney's face.
"Yes, I allude to the supposed appearance of a supposed vampyre in thisfamily," said Sir Francis Varney, as he returned the earnest gaze ofCharles, with such unshrinking assurance, that the young man wascompelled, after about a minute, nearly to withdraw his own eyes.
"He will not be cowed," thought Charles. "Use has made him familiar tosuch cross-questioning."
It appeared now suddenly to occur to Henry that he had said something atVarney's own house which should have prevented him from coming to theHall, and he now remarked,--
"We scarcely expected the pleasure of your company here, Sir FrancisVarney."
"Oh, my dear sir, I am aware of that; but you roused my curiosity. Youmentioned to me that there was a portrait here amazingly like me."
"Did I?"
"Indeed you did, or how could I know it? I wanted to see if theresemblance was so perfect."
"Did you hear, sir," added Henry, "that my sister was alarmed at yourlikeness to that portrait?"
"No, really."
"I pray you walk in, and we will talk more at large upon that matter."
"With great pleasure. One leads a monotonous life in the country, whencompared with the brilliancy of a court existence. Just now I have noparticular engagement. As we are near neighbours I see no reason why weshould not be good friends, and often interchange such civilities asmake up the amenities of existence, and which, in the country, moreparticularly, are valuable."
Henry could not be hypocrite enough to assent to this; but still, underthe present aspect of affairs, it was impossible to return any but acivil reply; so he said,--
"Oh, yes, of course--certainly. My time is very much occupied, and mysister and mother see no company."
"Oh, now, how wrong."
"Wrong, sir?"
"Yes, surely. If anything more than another tends to harmonizeindividuals, it is the society of that fairer half of the creation whichwe love for their very foibles. I am much attached to the softer sex--toyoung persons full of health. I like to see the rosy checks, where thewarm blood mantles in the superficial veins, and all is loveliness andlife."
Charles shrank back, and the word "Demon" unconsciously escaped hislips.
Sir Francis took no manner of notice of the expression, but went ontalking, as if he had been on the very happiest terms with every onepresent.
"Will you follow me, at once, to the chamber where the portrait hangs,"said Henry, "or will you partake of some refreshment first?"
"No refreshment for me," said Varney. "My dear friend, if you willpermit me to call you such, this is a time of the day at which I neverdo take any refreshment."
"Nor at any other," thought Henry.
They all went to the chamber where Charles had passed one verydisagreeable night, and when they arrived, Henry pointed to the portraiton the panel, saying--
"There, Sir Francis Varney, is your likeness."
He looked, and, having walked up to it, in an under tone, rather as ifhe were conversing with himself than making a remark for any one else tohear, he said--
"It is wonderfully like."
"It is, indeed," said Charles.
"If I stand beside it, thus," said Varney, placing himself in afavourable attitude for comparing the two faces, "I dare say you will bemore struck with the likeness than before."
So accurate was it now, that the same light fell upon his face as thatunder which the painter had executed the portrait, that all started backa step or two.
"Some artists," remarked Varney, "have the sense to ask where a portraitis to be hung before they paint it, and then they adapt their lights andshadows to those which would fall upon the original, were it similarlysituated."
"I cannot stand this," said Charles to Henry; "I must question himfarther."
"As you please, but do not insult him."
"I will not."
"He is beneath my roof now, and, after all, it is but a hideoussuspicion we have of him."
"Rely upon me."
Charles stepped forward, and once again confronting Varney, with anearnest gaze, he said--
"Do you know, sir, that Miss Bannerworth declares the vampyre shefancies to have visited this chamber to be, in features, the exactcounterpart of this portrait?"
"Does she indeed?"
"She does, indeed."
"And perhaps, then, that accounts for her thinking that I am thevampyre, because I bear a strong resemblance to the portrait."
"I should not be surprised," said Charles.
"How very odd."
"Very."
"And yet entertaining. I am rather amused than otherwise. The idea ofbeing a vampyre. Ha! ha! If ever I go to a masquerade again, I shallcertainly assume the character of a vampyre."
"You would do it well."
"I dare say, now, I should make quite a sensation."
"I am certain you would. Do you not think, gentlemen, that Sir FrancisVarney would enact the character to the very life? By Heavens, he woulddo it so well that one might, without much difficulty, really imaginehim a vampyre."
"Bravo--bravo," said Varney, as he gently folded his hands together,with that genteel applause that may even be indulged in in a box at theopera itself. "Bravo. I like to see young persons enthusiastic; it looksas if they had some of the real fire of genius in their composition.Bravo--bravo."
This was, Charles thought, the very height and acme of impudence, andyet what could he do? What could he say? He was foiled by the downrightcoolness of Varney.
As for Henry, George, and Mr. Marchdale, they had listened to what waspassing between Sir Francis and Charles in silence. They feared todiminish the effect of anything Charles might say, by adding a word oftheir own; and, likewise, they did not wish to lose one observation thatmight come from the lips of Varney.
But now Charles appeared to have said all he had to say, he turned tothe window and looked out. He seemed like a man who had made up hismind, for a time, to give up some contest in which he had been engaged.
And, perhaps, not so much did he give it up from any feeling orconsciousness of being beaten, as from a conviction that it could be themore effectually, at some other and far more eligible opportunity,renewed.
Varney now addressed Henry, saying,--
"I presume the subject of our conference, when you did me the honour ofa call, is no secret to any one here?"
"None whatever," said Henry.
"Then, perhaps, I am too early in asking you if you have made up yourmind?"
"I have scarcely, certainly, had time to think."
"My dear sir, do not let me hurry you; I much regret, indeed, theintrusion."
"You seem anxious to possess the Hall," remarked Mr. Marchdale, toVarney.
"I am."
"Is it new to you?"
"Not quite. I have some boyish recollections connected with thisneighbourhood, among which Bannerworth Hall stands sufficientlyprominent."
"May I ask how long ago that was?" said Charles Howard, rather abruptly.
"I do not recollect, my enthusiastic young friend," said Varney. "Howold are you?"
"Just about twenty-one."
"You are, then, for your age, quite a model of
discretion."
It would have been difficult for the most accurate observer of humannature to have decided whether this was said truthfully or ironically,so Charles made no reply to it whatever.
"I trust," said Henry, "we shall induce you, as this is your firstvisit, Sir Francis Varney, to the Hall, to partake of some thing."
"Well, well, a cup of wine--"
"Is at your service."
Henry now led the way to a small parlour, which, although by no meansone of the showiest rooms of the house, was, from the care and exquisitecarving with which it abounded, much more to the taste of any whopossessed an accurate judgment in such works of art.
Then wine was ordered, and Charles took an opportunity of whispering toHenry,--
"Notice well if he drinks."
"I will."
"Do you see that beneath his coat there is a raised place, as if his armwas bound up?"
"I do."
"There, then, was where the bullet from the pistol fired by Flora, whenwe were at the church, hit him."
"Hush! for God's sake, hush! you are getting into a dreadful state ofexcitement, Charles; hush! hush!"
"And can you blame--"
"No, no; but what can we do?"
"You are right. Nothing can we do at present. We have a clue now, and beit our mutual inclination, as well as duty, to follow it. Oh, you shallsee how calm I will be!"
"For Heaven's sake, be so. I have noted that his eyes flash upon yourswith no friendly feeling."
"His friendship were a curse."
"Hush! he drinks!"
"Watch him."
"I will."
"Gentlemen all," said Sir Francis Varney, in such soft, dulcet tones,that it was quite a fascination to hear him speak; "gentlemen all, beingas I am, much delighted with your company, do not accuse me ofpresumption, if I drink now, poor drinker as I am, to our future merrymeetings."
He raised the wine to his lips, and seemed to drink, after which hereplaced the glass upon the table.
Charles glanced at it, it was still full.
"You have not drank, Sir Francis Varney," he said.
"Pardon me, enthusiastic young sir," said Varney, "perhaps you will havethe liberality to allow me to take my wine how I please and when Iplease."
"Your glass is full."
"Well, sir?"
"Will you drink it?"
"Not at any man's bidding, most certainly. If the fair Flora Bannerworthwould grace the board with her sweet presence, methinks I could thendrink on, on, on."
"Hark you, sir," cried Charles, "I can bear no more of this. We have hadin this house most horrible and damning evidence that there are suchthings as vampyres."
"Have you really? I suppose you eat raw pork at supper, and so had thenightmare?"
"A jest is welcome in its place, but pray hear me out, sir, if it suityour lofty courtesy to do so."
"Oh, certainly."
"Then I say we believe, as far as human judgment has a right to go, thata vampyre has been here."
"Go on, it's interesting. I always was a lover of the wild and thewonderful."
"We have, too," continued Charles, "some reason to believe that you arethe man."
Varney tapped his forehead as he glanced at Henry, and said,--
"Oh, dear, I did not know. You should have told me he was a little wrongabout the brain; I might have quarreled with the lad. Dear me, howlamentable for his poor mother."
"This will not do, Sir Francis Varney _alias_ Bannerworth."
"Oh--oh! Be calm--be calm."
"I defy you to your teeth, sir! No, God, no! Your teeth!"
"Poor lad! Poor lad!"
"You are a cowardly demon, and here I swear to devote myself to yourdestruction."
Sir Francis Varney drew himself up to his full height, and that wasimmense, as he said to Henry,--
"I pray you, Mr. Bannerworth, since I am thus grievously insultedbeneath your roof, to tell me if your friend here be mad or sane?"
"He's not mad."
"Then--"
"Hold, sir! The quarrel shall be mine. In the name of my persecutedsister--in the name of Heaven. Sir Francis Varney, I defy you."
Sir Francis, in spite of his impenetrable calmness, appeared somewhatmoved, as he said,--
"I have already endured insult sufficient--I will endure no more. Ifthere are weapons at hand--"
"My young friend," interrupted Mr. Marchdale, stepping between theexcited men, "is carried away by his feelings, and knows not what hesays. You will look upon it in that light, Sir Francis."
"We need no interference," exclaimed Varney, his hitherto bland voicechanging to one of fury. "The hot blooded fool wishes to fight, and heshall--to the death--to the death."
"And I say he shall not," exclaimed Mr. Marchdale, taking Henry by thearm. "George," he added, turning to the young man, "assist me inpersuading your brother to leave the room. Conceive the agony of yoursister and mother if anything should happen to him."
Varney smiled with a devilish sneer, as he listened to these words, andthen he said,--
"As you will--as you will. There will be plenty of time, and perhapsbetter opportunity, gentlemen. I bid you good day."
And with provoking coolness, he then moved towards the door, and quittedthe room.
"Remain here," said Marchdale; "I will follow him, and see that he quitsthe premises."
He did so, and the young men, from the window, beheld Sir Franciswalking slowly across the garden, and then saw Mr. Marchdale follow onhis track.
While they were thus occupied, a tremendous ringing came at the gate,but their attention was so rivetted to what was passing in the garden,that they paid not the least attention to it.
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 19