CHAPTER XX.
THE DREADFUL MISTAKE.--THE TERRIFIC INTERVIEW IN THE CHAMBER.--THEATTACK OF THE VAMPYRE.
The footstep which Flora, upon the close of the tale she had beenreading, heard approaching her apartment, came rapidly along thecorridor.
"It is Henry, returned to conduct me to an interview with Charles'suncle," she said. "I wonder, now, what manner of man he is. He should insome respects resemble Charles; and if he do so, I shall bestow upon himsome affection for that alone."
Tap--tap came upon the chamber door. Flora was not at all alarmed now,as she had been when Henry brought her the manuscript. From some strangeaction of the nervous system, she felt quite confident, and resolved tobrave everything. But then she felt quite sure that it was Henry, andbefore the knocking had taken her by surprise.
"Come in," she said, in a cheerful voice. "Come in."
The door opened with wonderful swiftness--a figure stepped into theroom, and then closed it as rapidly, and stood against it. Flora triedto scream, but her tongue refused its office; a confused whirl ofsensations passed through her brain--she trembled, and an icy coldnesscame over her. It was Sir Francis Varney, the vampyre!
He had drawn up his tall, gaunt frame to its full height, and crossedhis arms upon his breast; there was a hideous smile upon his sallowcountenance, and his voice was deep and sepulchral, as he said,--
"Flora Bannerworth, hear that which I have to say, and hear it calmly.You need have nothing to fear. Make an alarm--scream, or shout for help,and, by the hell beneath us, you are lost!"
There was a death-like, cold, passionless manner about the utterance ofthese words, as if they were spoken mechanically, and came from no humanlips.
Flora heard them, and yet scarcely comprehended them; she stepped slowlyback till she reached a chair, and there she held for support. The onlypart of the address of Varney that thoroughly reached her ears, was thatif she gave any alarm some dreadful consequences were to ensue. But itwas not on account of these words that she really gave no alarm; it wasbecause she was utterly unable to do so.
"Answer me," said Varney. "Promise that you will hear that which I haveto say. In so promising you commit yourself to no evil, and you shallhear that which shall give you much peace."
It was in vain she tried to speak; her lips moved, but she uttered nosound.
"You are terrified," said Varney, "and yet I know not why. I do not cometo do you harm, although harm have you done me. Girl, I come to rescueyou from a thraldom of the soul under which you now labour."
There was a pause of some moments' duration, and then, faintly, Floramanaged to say,--
"Help! help! Oh, help me, Heaven!"
Varney made a gesture of impatience, as he said,--
"Heaven works no special matters now. Flora Bannerworth, if you have asmuch intellect as your nobility and beauty would warrant the world insupposing, you will listen to me."
"I--I hear," said Flora, as she still, dragging the chair with her,increased the distance between them.
"'Tis well. You are now more composed."
She fixed her eyes upon the face of Varney with a shudder. There couldbe no mistake. It was the same which, with the strange, glassy lookingeyes, had glared upon her on that awful night of the storm when she wasvisited by the vampyre. And Varney returned that gaze unflinchinglyThere was a hideous and strange contortion of his face now as he said,--
"You are beautiful. The most cunning statuary might well model some rarework of art from those rounded limbs, that were surely made to bewitchthe gazer. Your skin rivals the driven snow--what a face of loveliness,and what a form of enchantment."
She did not speak, but a thought came across her mind, which at oncecrimsoned her cheek--she knew she had fainted on the first visit of thevampyre, and now he, with a hideous reverence, praised beauties which hemight have cast his demoniac eyes over at such a time.
"You understand me," he said. "Well, let that pass. I am somethingallied to humanity yet."
"Speak your errand," gasped Flora, "or come what may, I scream for helpto those who will not be slow to render it."
"I know it."
"You know I will scream?"
"No; you will hear me. I know they would not be slow to tender help toyou, but you will not call for it; I will present to you no necessity."
"Say on--say on."
"You perceive I do not attempt to approach you; my errand is one ofpeace."
"Peace from you! Horrible being, if you be really what even now myappalled imagination shrinks from naming you, would not even to youabsolute annihilation be a blessing?"
"Peace, peace. I came not here to talk on such a subject. I must bebrief, Flora Bannerworth, for time presses. I do not hate you. Whereforeshould I? You are young, and you are beautiful, and you bear a namewhich should command, and does command, some portion of my best regard."
"There is a portrait," said Flora, "in this house."
"No more--no more. I know what you would say."
"It is yours."
"The house, and all within, I covet," he said, uneasily. "Let thatsuffice. I have quarrelled with your brother--I have quarrelled with onewho just now fancies he loves you."
"Charles Holland loves me truly."
"It does not suit me now to dispute that point with you. I have themeans of knowing more of the secrets of the human heart than common men.I tell you, Flora Bannerworth, that he who talks to you of love, lovesyou not but with the fleeting fancy of a boy; and there is one who hidesdeep in his heart a world of passion, one who has never spoken to you oflove, and yet who loves you with a love as far surpassing the evanescentfancy of this boy Holland, as does the mighty ocean the most placid lakethat ever basked in idleness beneath a summer's sun."
There was a wonderful fascination in the manner now of Varney. His voicesounded like music itself. His words flowed from his tongue, each gentlyand properly accented, with all the charm of eloquence.
Despite her trembling horror of that man--despite her fearful opinion,which might be said to amount to a conviction of what he really was,Flora felt an irresistible wish to hear him speak on. Ay, despite too,the ungrateful theme to her heart which he had now chosen as the subjectof his discourse, she felt her fear of him gradually dissipating, andnow when he made a pause, she said,--
"You are much mistaken. On the constancy and truth of Charles Holland, Iwould stake my life."
"No doubt, no doubt."
"Have you spoken now that which you had to say?"
"No, no. I tell you I covet this place, I would purchase it, but havingwith your bad-tempered brothers quarrelled, they will hold no furtherconverse with me."
"And well they may refuse."
"Be, that as it may, sweet lady, I come to you to be my mediator. In theshadow of the future I can see many events which are to come."
"Indeed."
"It is so. Borrowing some wisdom from the past, and some from resourcesI would not detail to you, I know that if I have inflicted much miseryupon you, I can spare you much more. Your brother or your lover willchallenge me."
"Oh, no, no."
"I say such will happen, and I can kill either. My skill as well as mystrength is superhuman."
"Mercy! mercy!" gasped Flora. "I will spare either or both on acondition."
"What fearful condition?"
"It is not a fearful one. Your terrors go far before the fact. All Iwish, maiden, of you is to induce these imperious brothers of yours tosell or let the Hall to me."
"Is that all?"
"It is. I ask no more, and, in return, I promise you not only that Iwill not fight with them, but that you shall never see me again. Restsecurely, maiden, you will be undisturbed by me."
"Oh, God! that were indeed an assurance worth the striving for," saidFlora.
"It is one you may have. But--"
"Oh, I knew--my heart told me there was yet some fearful condition tocome."
"You are wrong again. I only ask of you that you keep this
meeting asecret."
"No, no, no--I cannot."
"Nay, what so easy?"
"I will not; I have no secrets from those I love."
"Indeed, you will find soon the expediency of a few at least; but if youwill not, I cannot urge it longer. Do as your wayward woman's natureprompts you."
There was a slight, but a very slight, tone of aggravation in thesewords, and the manner in which they were uttered.
As he spoke, he moved from the door towards the window, which openedinto a kitchen garden. Flora shrunk as far from him as possible, and fora few moments they regarded each other in silence.
"Young blood," said Varney, "mantles in your veins."
She shuddered with terror.
"Be mindful of the condition I have proposed to you. I covet BannerworthHall."
"I--I hear."
"And I must have it. I will have it, although my path to it be through asea of blood. You understand me, maiden? Repeat what has passed betweenus or not, as you please. I say, beware of me, if you keep not thecondition I have proposed."
"Heaven knows that this place is becoming daily more hateful to us all,"said Flora.
"Indeed!"
"You well might know so much. It is no sacrifice to urge it now. I willurge my brother."
"Thanks--a thousand thanks. You may not live to regret even having madea friend of Varney--"
"The vampyre!" said Flora.
He advanced towards her a step, and she involuntarily uttered a screamof terror.
In an instant his hand clasped her waist with the power of an iron vice;she felt hit hot breath flushing on her cheek. Her senses reeled, andshe found herself sinking. She gathered all her breath and all herenergies into one piercing shriek, and then she fell to the floor. Therewas a sudden crash of broken glass, and then all was still.
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 22