Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood

Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 87

by Thomas Preskett Prest

  CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

  THE RECEPTION OF THE VAMPYRE BY FLORA.--VARNEY SUBDUED.

  We must say that the irruption into the house of the Bannerworths by SirFrancis Varney, was certainly unpremeditated by him, for he knew notinto whose house he had thus suddenly rushed for refuge from thenumerous foes who were pursuing him with such vengeful ire. It was astrange and singular incident, and one well calculated to cause the mindto pause before it passed it by, and consider the means to an end whichare sometimes as wide of the mark, as it is in nature possible to be.

  But truth is stronger than fiction by far, and the end of it was, that,pressed on all sides by danger, bleeding, faint, and exhausted, herushed into the first house he came to, and thus placed himself in thevery house of those whom he had brought to such a state of misfortune.

  Flora Bannerworth was seated at some embroidery, to pass away an hour orso, and thus get over the tedium of time; she was not thinking, either,upon the unhappy past; some trifling object or other engaged herattention. But what was her anguish when she saw a man staggering intothe room bleeding, and bearing the marks of a bloody contest, andsinking at her feet.

  Her astonishment was far greater yet, when she recognised that man to beSir Francis Varney.

  "Save me!--save me! Miss Bannerworth, save me!--only you can save mefrom the ruthless multitude which follows, crying aloud for my blood."

  As he spoke, he sank down speechless. Flora was so much amazed, not tosay terrified, that she knew not what to do. She saw Sir Francis asuppliant at her feet, a fugitive from his enemies, who would show himno mercy--she saw all this at a moment's glance; and yet she had notrecovered her speech and presence of mind enough to enable her to makeany reply to him.

  "Save me! Miss Flora Bannerworth, save me!" he again said, raisinghimself on his hands. "I am beset, hunted like a wild beast--they seekmy life--they have pursued me from one spot to another, and I haveunwittingly intruded upon you. You will save me: I am sure your kindnessand goodness of heart will never permit me to be turned out among such acrew of blood-thirsty butchers as those who pursue me are."

  "Rise, Sir Francis Varney," said Flora, after a moment's hesitation; "insuch an extremity as that which you are in, it would be inhuman indeedto thrust you out among your enemies."

  "Oh! it would," said Varney. "I had thought, until now, I could havefaced such a mob, until I was in this extremity; and then, disarmed andthrown down, bruised, beaten, and incapable of stemming such a torrent,I fled from one place to another, till hunted from each, and theninstinct alone urged me to greater exertion than before, and here Iam--this is now my last and only hope."

  "Rise, Sir Francis."

  "You will not let me be torn out and slaughtered like an ox. I am sureyou will not."

  "Sir Francis, we are incapable of such conduct; you have sought refugehere, and shall find it as far as we are able to afford it to you."

  "And your brother--and--"

  "Yes--yes--all who are here will do the same; but here they come tospeak for themselves."

  As she spoke, Mrs. Bannerworth entered, also Charles Holland, who bothstarted on seeing the vampyre present, Sir Francis Varney, who was tooweak to rise without assistance.

  "Sir Francis Varney," said Flora, speaking to them as they entered, "hassought refuge here; his life is in peril, and he has no other hope left;you will, I am sure, do what can be done for him."

  "Mr. Holland," said Sir Francis, "I am, as you may see by my condition,a fugitive, and have been beaten almost to death; instinct alone urgedme on to save my life, and I, unknowingly, came in here."

  "Rise, Sir Francis," said Charles Holland; "I am not one who would feelany pleasure in seeing you become the victim of any brutal mob. I amsure there are none amongst us who would willingly do so. You havetrusted to those who will not betray you."

  "Thank you," said Sir Francis, faintly. "I thank you; your conduct isnoble, and Miss Bannerworth's especially so."

  "Are you much hurt, Sir Francis?" inquired Charles.

  "I am much hurt, but not seriously or dangerously; but I am weak andexhausted."

  "Let me assist you to rise," said Charles Holland.

  "Thank you," said Sir Francis, as he accepted of the assistance, andwhen he stood up, he found how incapable he really was, for a childmight have grappled with him.

  "I have been sore beset, Mrs. Bannerworth," he said, endeavouring to bowto that lady; "and I have suffered much ill-usage. I am not in such aplight as I could wish to be seen in by ladies; but my reasons forcoming will be an excuse for my appearance in such disorder."

  "We will not say anything about that," said Charles Holland; "under thecircumstances, it could not be otherwise."

  "It could not," said Sir Francis, as he took the chair Miss FloraBannerworth placed for him.

  "I will not ask you for any explanation as to how this came about; butyou need some restorative and rest."

  "I think I suffer more from exhaustion than anything else. The bruises Ihave, of course, are not dangerous."

  "Can you step aside a few moments?" said Mrs. Bannerworth. "I will showyou where you can remove some of those stains, and make yourself morecomfortable."

  "Thank you, madam--thank you. It will be most welcome to me, I assureyou."

  Sir Francis rose up, and, with the aid of Charles Holland, he walked tothe next room, where he washed himself, and arranged his dress as wellas it would admit of its being done.

  "Mr. Holland," he said, "I cannot tell you how grateful I feel for this.I have been hunted from the house where you saw me. From what sourcethey learned my abode--my place of concealment--I know not; but theyfound me out."

  "I need hardly say, Sir Francis, that it could not have occurred throughme," said Charles Holland.

  "My young friend," said Sir Francis, "I am quite sure you were not; and,moreover, I never, for one moment, suspected you. No, no; someaccidental circumstance alone has been the cause. I have been verycautious--I may say extremely so--but at the same time, living, as Ihave, surrounded by enemies on all sides, it is not to be wondered atthat I should be seen by some one, and thus traced to my lair, whitherthey followed me at their leisure."

  "They have been but too troublesome in this matter. When they become alittle reasonable, it will be a great miracle; for, when their passionsand fears are excited, there is no end to the extremes they willperpetrate."

  "It is so," said Varney, "as the history of these last few days amplytestifies to me. I could never have credited the extent to which popularexcitement could be carried, and the results it was likely to produce."

  "It is an engine of very difficult control," pursued Charles Holland;"but what will raise it will not allay it, but add fuel to the fire thatburns so fiercely already."

  "True enough," said Sir Francis.

  "If you have done, will you again step this way?"

  Sir Francis Varney followed Charles Holland into the sitting-room, andsat down with them, and before him was spread a light supper, with somegood wine.

  "Eat, Sir Francis," said Mrs. Bannerworth. "Such a state as that inwhich you are, must, of necessity, produce great exhaustion, and youmust require food and drink."

  Sir Francis bowed as well as he was able, and even then, sore andbruised as he was, fugitive as he had been, he could not forget hiscourtesy; but it was not without an effort. His equanimity was, however,much disturbed, by finding himself in the midst of the Bannerworths.

  "I owe you a relation," he said, "of what occurred to drive me from myplace of concealment."

  "We should like to hear it, if you are not too far fatigued to relateit," said Charles.

  "I will. I was sitting at the top of that house in which I sought tohide myself, when I heard sounds come that were of a very suspiciousnature; but did not believe that it could happen that they haddiscovered my lurking-place; far from it; though, of late, I had beenhabitually cautious and suspicious, yet I thought I was safe, till Iheard the noise of a multitude coming towards me. I c
ould not bemistaken in it, for the sounds are so peculiar that they are likenothing else. I heard them coming.

  "I moved not; and when they surrounded the house as far as waspracticable, they gave an immense shout, and made the welkin ring withthe sound."

  "I heard a confused noise at a distance," remarked Flora; "but I had noidea that anything serious was contemplated. I imagined it was somefestival among some trade, or portion of the townspeople, who wereshouting from joy."

  "Oh, dear no," said Sir Francis; "but I am not surprised at the mistake,because there are such occurrences occasionally; but whenever the mobgained any advantage upon me they shouted, and when I was able to opposethem with effect, they groaned at me most horribly."

  "The deuce," said Charles; "the sound, suppose, serves to express theirfeelings, and to encourage each other."

  "Something of the sort, I dare say," said Varney: "but at length, afterdefending the house with all the desperation that despair imparted tome, I was compelled to fly from floor to floor, until I had reached theroof; there they followed me, and I was compelled again to fly. Houseafter house they followed me to, until I could go no farther," saidVarney.

  "How did you escape?"

  "Fortunately I saw some ivy growing and creeping over the coping-stones,and by grasping that I got over the side, and so let myself down bydegrees, as well as I was able."

  "Good heavens! what a dreadful situation," exclaimed Flora; "it isreally horrible!"

  "I could not do it again, under, I think, any circumstances."

  "Not the same?" said Mrs. Bannerworth.

  "I really doubt if I could," said Varney. "The truth is, the excitementof the moment was great, and I at that moment thought of nothing butgetting away.

  "The same circumstances, the same fear of death, could hardly beproduced in me again, and I am unable to account for the phenomenon onthis occasion."

  "Your escape was very narrow indeed," said Flora; "it makes me shudderto think of the dangers you have gone through; it is really terrible tothink of it."

  "You," said Sir Francis, "are young and susceptible, and generous inyour disposition, You can feel for me, and do; but how little I couldhave expected it, it is impossible to say; but your sympathy sinks intomy mind and causes such emotions as never can be erased from my soul.

  "But to proceed. You may guess how dreadful was my position, by the factthat the first man who attempted to get over tore the ivy away and fell,striking me in his fall; he was killed, and I thrown down and stunned. Ithen made for the wood, closely pursued and got into it; then I baffledthem: they searched the wood, and I went through it. I then ran acrossthe country to these houses here; I got over the fence, and in at theback door."

  "Did they see you come?" inquired Charles Holland.

  "I cannot say, but I think that they did not; I heard them give a loudshout more than once when on this side of the wood."

  "You did? How far from here were you when you heard the shouts?"inquired Mrs. Bannerworth.

  "I was close here; and, as I jumped over the fence, I heard them shoutagain; but I think they cannot see so far; the night was moonlight, tobe sure, but that is all; the shadow of the hedge, and the distancetogether, would make it, if not impossible, at least very improbable."

  "That is very likely," said Mrs. Bannerworth.

  "In that case," said Charles Holland, "you are safe here; for none willsuspect your being concealed here."

  "It is the last place I should myself have thought of," said Varney;"and I may say the last place I would knowingly have come to; but had Ibefore known enough of you, I should have been well assured of yourgenerosity, and have freely come to claim your aid and shelter, whichaccident has so strangely brought me to be a candidate for, and which youhave so kindly awarded me."

  "The night is wearing away," said Flora, "and Sir Francis is doubtlessfatigued to an excess; sleep, I dare say, will be most welcome to him."

  "It will indeed, Miss Bannerworth," said Varney; "but I can do thatunder any circumstances; do not let me put you to any inconvenience; achair, and at any hour, will serve me for sleep."

  "We cannot do for you what we would wish," said Flora, looking at hermother; "but something better than that, at all events, we can and willprovide for you."

  "I know not how to thank you," said Sir Francis Varney; "I assure you,of late I have not been luxuriously lodged, and the less trouble I giveyou the greater I shall esteem the favour."

  The hour was late, and Sir Francis Varney, before another half hour hadelapsed, was consigned to his own reflections, in a small but neat room,there to repose his bruised and battered carcass, and court therefreshing influence of sleep.

  His reflections were, for nearly an hour, of the most contradictorycharacter; some one passion was trying to overcome the other; but heseemed quite subdued.

  "I could not have expected this," he muttered; "Flora Bannerworth hasthe soul of a heroine. I deserved not such a reception from them; andyet, in my hour of utmost need, they have received me like a favouredfriend; and yet all their misfortunes have taken their origin from me; Iam the cause of all."

  Filled with these thoughts, he fell asleep; he slept till morning broke.He was not disturbed; it seemed as though the influence of sleep wassweeter far there, in the cottage of the Bannerworths, than ever he hadbefore received.

  It was late on that morning before Sir Francis rose, and then onlythrough hearing the family about, and, having performed his toilet, sofar as circumstances permitted, he descended, and entered thefront-parlour, the room he had been in the night before.

  Flora Bannerworth was already there; indeed, breakfast was waiting theappearance of Sir Francis Varney.

  "Good morning, Miss Bannerworth," said Sir Francis, bowing with hisusual dignified manner, but in the kindest and sincerest way he was ableto assume.

  "Good morning, Sir Francis," said Flora, rising to receive him; and shecould not avoid looking at him as he entered the room. "I hope you havehad a pleasant night?"

  "It has been the best night's rest I have had for some time, MissBannerworth. I assure you I have to express my gratitude to you for somuch kindness. I have slept well, and soundly."

  "I am glad to hear it."

  "I think yet I shall escape the search of these people who have huntedme from so many places."

  "I hope you may, indeed, Sir Francis."

  "You, Miss Bannerworth! and do you hope I may escape the vengeance ofthese people--the populace?"

  "I do, Sir Francis, most sincerely hope so. Why should I wish evil toyou, especially at their hands?"

  Sir Francis did not speak for a minute or two, and then he said, turningfull upon Flora--

  "I don't know why, Miss Bannerworth, that I should think so, but perhapsit is because there are peculiar circumstances connected with myself,that have made me feel conscious that I have not deserved so muchgoodness at your hands."

  "You have not deserved any evil. Sir Francis, we could not do that if itwere in our power; we would do you a service at any time."

  "You have done so, Miss Bannerworth--the greatest that can be performed.You have saved my life."

  At that moment Charles Holland entered, and Sir Francis bowed, as hesaid,--

  "I hope you, Mr. Holland, have slept as well, and passed as good a nightas I have passed?"

  "I am glad you, at least, have passed a quiet one," said CharlesHolland; "you, I dare say, feel all the better for it? How do you feelyourself? Are you much hurt?"

  "Not at all, not at all," said Sir Francis Varney. "Only a few bruises,and so forth, some of which, as you may perceive, do not add to one'spersonal appearance. A week or two's quiet would rid me of them. At allevents, I would it may do the same with my enemies."

  "I wish they were as easily gotten rid of myself," said Charles; "but asthat cannot be, we must endeavour to baffle them in the best way wemay."

  "I owe a debt to you I shall never be able to repay; but where there isa will, they say there is a way; and if the o
ld saying be good foranything, I need not despair, though the way is by no means apparent atpresent."

  "Time is the magician," said Flora, "whose wand changes all things--theyoung to the aged, and the aged to nothing."

  "Certainly, that is true," said Varney, "and many such changes have Iseen. My mind is stored with such events; but this is sadness, and Ihave cause to rejoice."

  * * * *

  The breakfast was passed off in pleasing conversation, and Varney foundhimself much at home with the Bannerworths, whose calm and even tenourwas quite new to him.

  He could not but admit the charms of such a life as that led by theBannerworths; but what it must have been when they were supplied byample means, with nothing to prey upon their minds, and no fearfulmystery to hang on and weigh down their spirits, he could scarcelyimagine.

  They were amiable, accomplished; they were in the same mind at all times,and nothing seemed to ruffle them; and when night came, he could not butacknowledge to himself that he had never formed half the opinion of themthey were deserving of.

  Of course during that day he was compelled to lie close, so as not to beseen by any one, save the family. He sat in a small room, which wasoverlooked by no other in the neighbourhood, and he remained quiet,sometimes conversing, and sometimes reading, but at the same time everattentive to the least sound that appeared at all of a character toindicate the approach of persons for any purpose whatever.

  At supper time he spoke to Flora and to Charles Holland, saying,--

  "There are certain matters connected with myself--I may say with younow--sure all that has happened will make it so--of which you would beglad to hear some thing."

  "You mean upon the same subject upon which I had some conversation withyou a day or two back?"

  "Yes, the same. Allow me one week, and you shall know all. I will thenrelate to you that which you so much desire to know--one week, and allshall be told."

  "Well," said Charles Holland, "this has not been exacted from you as theprice of your safety, but you can choose your own time, of course; whatyou promise is most desired, for it will render those happy who now aremuch worse than they were before these occurrences took place."

  "I am aware of all that; grant me but one week, and then you shall bemade acquainted with all."

  "I am satisfied, Sir Francis," said Flora; "but while here under ourroof, we should never have asked you a question."

  "Of this, Miss Bannerworth, the little I have seen of you assures me youwould not do so; however, I am the more inclined to make it--I am underso deep an obligation to you all, that I can never repay it."

  * * * * *

  Sir Francis Varney retired to rest that night--his promise to theBannerworths filled his mind with many reflections--the insecurity ofhis own position, and the frail tenure which he even held in the handsof those whom he had most injured.

  This produced a series of reflections of a grave and melancholy nature,and he sat by his window, watching the progress of the clouds, as theyappeared to chase each other over the face of the scene--now casting ashade over the earth, and then banishing the shadows, and throwing agentle light over the earth's surface, which was again chased away, andshadows again fell upon the scene below.

  How long he had sat there in melancholy musing he knew not; but suddenlyhe was aroused from his dreams by a voice that shook the skies, andcaused him to start to his feet.

  "Hurrah!--hurrah!--hurrah!" shouted the mob, which had silentlycollected around the cottage of the Bannerworths.

  "Curses!" muttered Sir Francis, as he again sank in his chair, andstruck his head with his hand. "I am hunted to death--they will notleave me until my body has graced a cross-road."

  "Hurrah!--down with the vampyre--pull him out!"

  Then came an instant knocking at the doors, and the people on theoutside made so great a din, that it seemed as though they contemplatedknocking the house down at once, without warning the inmates that theywaited there.

  There was a cessation for about a minute, when one of the familyhastened to the door, and inquired what was wanted.

  "Varney, the vampyre," was the reply.

  "You must seek him elsewhere."

  "We will search this place before we go further," replied a man.

  "But he is not here."

  "We have reason to believe otherwise. Open the door, and let us in--noone shall be hurt, or one single object in the house; but we must comein, and search for the vampyre."

  "Come to-morrow, then."

  "That will not do," said the voice; "open, or we force our way inwithout more notice."

  At the same a tremendous blow was bestowed upon the door, and then muchforce was used to thrust it in. A consultation was suddenly held amongthe inmates, as to what was to be done, but no one could advise, andeach was well aware of the utter impossibility of keeping the mob out.

  "I do not see what is to become of me," said Sir Francis Varney,suddenly appearing before them. "You must let them in; there is nochance of keeping them off, neither can you conceal me. You will have noplace, save one, that will be sacred from their profanation."

  "And which is that?"

  "Flora's own room."

  All started at the thought that Flora's chamber could in any way beprofaned by any such presence as Sir Francis Varney's.

  However, the doors below were suddenly burst open, amid loud cries fromthe populace, who rushed in in great numbers, and began to search thelower rooms, immediately.

  "All is lost!" said Sir Francis Varney, as he dashed away and rushed tothe chamber of Flora, who, alarmed at the sounds that were now fillingthe house, stood listening to them.

  "Miss Bannerworth--" began Varney.

  "Sir Francis!"

  "Yes, it is indeed I, Miss Bannerworth; hear me, for one moment."

  "What is the matter?"

  "I am again in peril--in more imminent peril than before; my life is notworth a minute's purchase, unless you save me. You, and you alone, cannow save me. Oh! Miss Bannerworth, if ever pity touched your heart, saveme from those only whom I now fear. I could meet death in any shape butthat in which they will inflict it upon me. Hear their execrationsbelow!"

  "Death to the vampyre! death to Varney! burn him! run a stake throughhis body!"

  "What can I do, Sir Francis?"

  "Admit me to your chamber."

  "Sir Francis, are you aware of what you are saying?"

  "I am well. It is a request which you would justly scorn to reply to,but now my life--recollect you have saved me once--my life,--do not nowthrow away the boon you have so kindly bestowed. Save me, MissBannerworth."

  "It is not possible. I--"

  "Nay, Miss Bannerworth, do you imagine this is a time for ceremony, orthe observances of polished life! On my honour, you run no risk ofcensure."

  "Where is Varney? Where is the vampyre? He ain't far off."

  "Hear--hear them, Miss Bannerworth. They are now at the foot of thestairs. Not a moment to lose. One minute more, and I am in the hands ofa crew that has no mercy."

  "Hurrah! upstairs! He's not below. Upstairs, neighbours, we shall havehim yet!"

  These words sounded on the stairs: half-a-dozen more steps, and Varneywould be seen. It was a miracle he was not heard begging for his life.

  Varney cast a look of despair at the stairhead and felt for his sword,but it was not there, he had lost it. He struck his head with hisclenched hand, and was about to rush upon his foes, when he heard thelock turn; he looked, and saw the door opened gently, and Flora stoodthere; he passed in, and sank cowering into a chair, at the other end ofthe room, behind some curtains.

  The door was scarcely shut ere some tried to force it, and then a loudknocking came at the door.

  "Open! open! we want Varney, the vampyre. Open! or we will burst itopen."

  Flora did open it, but stood resolutely in the opening, and held up herhand to impose silence.

  "Are you men, that you can come thus to force yourselves
upon theprivacy of a female? Is there nothing in the town or house, that youmust intrude in numbers into a private apartment? Is no place sacredfrom you?"

  "But, ma'am--miss--we only want Varney, the vampyre."

  "And can you find him nowhere but in a female's bedroom? Shame on you!shame on you! Have you no sisters, wives, or mothers, that you actthus?"

  "He's not there, you may be sure of that, Jack," said a gruff voice."Let the lady be in quiet; she's had quite enough trouble with him tosicken her of a vampyre. You may be sure that's the last place to findhim in."

  With this they all turned away, and Flora shut the door and locked itupon them, and Varney was safe.

  "You have saved me," said Varney.

  "Hush!" said Flora. "Speak not; there maybe some one listening."

  Sir Francis Varney stood in the attitude of one listening most anxiouslyto catch some sounds; the moon fell across his face, and gave it aghastly hue, that, added to his natural paleness and wounds, gave him analmost unearthly aspect.

  The sounds grew more and more distant; the shouts and noise of mentraversing the apartments subsided, and gradually the place becamerestored to its original silence. The mob, after having searched everyother part of the house, and not finding the object of their search,they concluded that he was not there, but must have made his escapebefore.

  * * * * *

  This most desperate peril of Sir Francis Varney seemed to have moreeffect upon him than anything that had occurred during his most strangeand most eventful career.

  When he was assured that the riotous mob that had been so intent uponhis destruction was gone, and that he might emerge from his place ofconcealment, he did so with an appearance of such utter exhaustion thatthe Bannerworth family could not but look upon him as a being who wasnear his end.

  At any time his countenance, as we long have had occasion to remark, wasa strange and unearthly looking one; but when we come to superadd to thestrangeness of his ordinary appearance the traces of deep mentalemotion, we may well say that Varney's appearance was positively of themost alarming character.

  When he was seated in the ordinary sitting apartment of theBannerworths, he drew a long sighing breath, and placing his hand uponhis heart, he said, in a faint tone of voice,--

  "It beats now laboriously, but it will soon cease its pulsations forever."

  These words sounded absolutely prophetic, there was about them such asolemn aspect, and he looked at the same time that he uttered them somuch like one whose mortal race was run, and who was now a candidate forthe grave.

  "Do not speak so despairingly," said Charles Holland; "remember, that ifyour life has been one of errors hitherto, how short a space of time maysuffice to redeem some of them at least, and the communication to mewhich you have not yet completed may to some extent have such aneffect."

  "No, no. It may contribute to an act of justice, but it can do no goodto me. And yet do not suppose that because such is my impression that Imean to hesitate in finishing to you that communication."

  "I rejoice to hear you say so, and if you would, now that you must beaware of what good feelings towards you we are all animated with, removethe bar of secrecy from the communication, I should esteem it a greatfavour."

  Varney appeared to be considering for a few moments, and then he said,--

  "Well, well. Let the secrecy no longer exist. Have it removed at once. Iwill no longer seek to maintain it. Tell all, Charles Holland--tellall."

  Thus empowered by the mysterious being, Charles Holland related brieflywhat Varney had already told him, and then concluded by saying,--

  "That is all that I have myself as yet been made aware of, and I nowcall upon Sir Francis Varney to finish his narration."

  "I am weak," said Varney, "and scarcely equal to the task; but yet Iwill not shrink from the promise that I have made. You have been thepreservers of my life, and more particularly to you, Flora Bannerworth,am I indebted for an existence, which otherwise must have beensacrificed upon the altar of superstition."

  "But you will recollect, Master Varney," said the admiral, who had satlooking on for some time in silent wonder, "you must recollect, MasterVarney, that the people are, after all, not so much to blame for theirsuperstition, because, whether you are a vampyre or not, and I don'tpretend to come to a positive opinion now, you took good care topersuade them you were."

  "I did," said Varney, with a shudder; "but why did I?"

  "Well, you know best."

  "It was, then, because I did believe, and do believe, that there issomething more than natural about my strangely protracted existence; butwe will waive that point, and, before my failing strength, for itappears to me to be failing, completely prevents me from doing so, letme relate to you the continued particulars of the circumstances thatmade me what I am."

  Flora Bannerworth, although she had heard before from the lips ofCharles Holland the to her dreadful fact, that her father, in additionto having laid violent hands upon his own life, was a murderer, now thatthat fearful circumstance was related more publicly, felt a greater pangthan she had done when it was whispered to her in the accents of pureaffection, and softened down by a gentleness of tone, which CharlesHolland's natural delicacy would not allow him to use even to her whomhe loved so well in the presence of others.

  She let her beautiful face be hidden by her hands, and she wept as shelistened to the sad detail.

  Varney looked inquiringly in the countenance of Charles Holland,because, having given him leave to make Flora acquainted with thecircumstance, he was rather surprised at the amount of emotion which itproduced in her.

  Charles Holland answered the appealing look by saying,--

  "Flora is already aware of the facts, but it naturally affects her muchto hear them now repeated in the presence of others, and those too,towards whom she cannot feel--"

  What Charles Holland was going to say was abruptly stopped short by theadmiral, who interposed, exclaiming,--

  "Why, what do you mean, you son of a sea cook? The presence of who doyou mean? Do you mean to say that I don't feel for Miss Flora, bless herheart! quite as much as a white-faced looking swab like you? Why, Ishall begin to think you are only fit for a marine."

  "Nay, uncle, now do not put yourself out of temper. You must be wellaware that I could not mean anything disrespectful to you. You shouldnot suppose such a state of things possible; and although, perhaps, Idid not express myself so felicitously as I might, yet what I intendedto say, was--"

  "Oh, bother what you intended to say. You go on, Mr. Vampyre, with yourstory. I want to know what became of it all; just you get on as quick asyou can, and let us know what you did after the man was murdered."

  "When the dreadful deed was committed," said Varney, "and our victim layweltering in his blood, and had breathed his last, we stood like men whofor the first time were awakened to the frightful consequences of whatthey had done.

  "I saw by the dim light that hovered round us a great change come overthe countenance of Marmaduke Bannerworth, and he shook in every limb.

  "This soon passed away, however, and the powerful and urgent necessitywhich arose of avoiding the consequences of the deed that we had done,restored us to ourselves. We stooped and took from the body theill-gotten gains of the gambler. They amounted to an immense sum, and Isaid to Marmaduke Bannerworth,--

  "'Take you the whole of this money and proceed to your own home with it,where you will be least suspected. Hide it in some place of greatsecrecy, and to-morrow I will call upon you, when we will divide it, andwill consider of some means of safely exchanging the notes for gold.'

  "He agreed to this, and placed the money in his pocket, after which itbecame necessary that we should dispose of the body, which, if we didnot quickly remove, must in a few hours be discovered, and so,perchance, accompanied by other criminating circumstances, become afrightful evidence against us, and entail upon us all those consequencesof the deed which we were so truly anxious to escape from.r />
  "It is ever the worst part of the murderer's task, that after he hasstruck the blow that has deprived his victim of existence, it becomeshis frightful duty to secrete the corpse, which, with its dead eyes,ever seems to be glaring upon him such a world of reproach.

  "That it is which should make people pause ere they dipped their handsin the blood of others, and that it is which becomes the firstretribution that the murderer has to endure for the deep crime that hehas committed.

  "We tore two stakes from a hedge, and with their assistance we contrivedto dig a very superficial hole, such a hole as was only sufficient, byplacing a thin coating of earth over it, to conceal the body of themurdered man.

  "And then came the loathsome task of dragging him into it--a task fullof horror, and from which we shrunk aghast; but it had to be done, and,therefore, we stooped, and grasping the clothes as best we might, wedragged the body into the chasm we had prepared for its reception. Gladwere we then to be enabled to throw the earth upon it and to stamp uponit with such vehemence as might well be supposed to actuate men deeplyanxious to put out of sight some dangerous and loathsome object.

  "When we had completed this, and likewise gathered handsfull of dustfrom the road, and dry leaves, and such other matter, to sprinkle uponthe grave, so as to give the earth an appearance of not having beendisturbed, we looked at each other and breathed from our toil.

  "Then, and not till then, was it that we remembered that among otherthings which the gambler had won of Marmaduke were the deeds belongingto the Dearbrook property."

  "The Dearbrook property!" exclaimed Henry Bannerworth; "I know thatthere was a small estate going by that name, which belonged to ourfamily, but I always understood that long ago my father had parted withit."

  "Yes; it was mortgaged for a small sum--a sum not a fourth part of itsvalue--and it had been redeemed by Marmaduke Bannerworth, not for thepurpose of keeping it, but in order that he might sell it outright, andso partially remedy his exhausted finances."

  "I was not aware of that," returned Henry.

  "Doubtless you were not, for of late--I mean for the twelve months or sopreceding your father's death--you know he was much estranged from allthe family, so that you none of you knew much of what he was doing,except that he was carrying on a very wild and reckless career, such aswas sure to end in dishonour and poverty; but I tell you he had thetitle deeds of the Dearbrook property, and that they were only got fromhim, along with everything else of value that he possessed, at thegaming-table, by the man who paid such a fearful penalty for hissuccess.

  "It was not until after the body was completely buried, and we hadcompleted all our precautions for more effectually hiding it fromobservation, that we recollected the fact of those important papersbeing in his possession. It was Marmaduke Bannerworth who firstremembered it, and he exclaimed,--

  "'By Heaven, we have buried the title deeds of the property, and weshall have again to exhume the corpse for the purpose of procuringthem.'

  "Now those deeds were nothing to me, and repugnant as I had felt fromthe first to having anything whatever to do with the dead body, it wasnot likely that I would again drag it from the earth for such an object.

  "'Marmaduke Bannerworth,' I said, 'you can do what you please, and takethe consequences of what you do, but I will not again, if I can help it,look upon the face of that corpse. It is too fearful a sight tocontemplate again. You have a large sum of money, and what need you carenow for the title deeds of a property comparatively insignificant?'

  "'Well, well,' he said, 'I will not, at the present time, disturb theremains; I will wait to see if anything should arise from the fact ofthe murder; if it should turn out that no suspicion of any kind isexcited, but that all is still and quiet, I can then take measures toexhume the corpse, and recover those papers, which certainly areimportant.'

  "By this time the morning was creeping on apace, and we thought itprudent to leave the spot. We stood at the end of the lane for a fewmoments conversing, and those moments were the last in which I ever sawMarmaduke Bannerworth."

  "Answer me a question," said Henry.

  "I will; ask me what you please, I will answer it."

  "Was it you that called at Bannerworth Hall, after my father'smelancholy death, and inquired for him?"

  "I did; and when I heard of the deed that he had done, I at once left,in order to hold counsel with myself as to what I should do to obtain atleast a portion of the property, one-half of which, it was understood,was to have been mine. I heard what had been the last words used byMarmaduke Bannerworth on the occasion of his death, and they were amplysufficient to let me know what had been done with the money--at allevents, so far as regards the bestowal of it in some secret place; andfrom that moment the idea of, by some means or another, getting theexclusive possession of it, never forsook my mind.

  "I thought over the matter by day and, by night; and with the exceptionof having a knowledge of the actual hiding-place of the money, I couldsee, in the clearest possible manner, how the whole affair had beentransacted. There can be no doubt but that Marmaduke Bannerworth hadreached home safely with the large sum of which he had become possessed,and that he had hidden it securely, which was but an ordinary measure ofprecaution, when we come to consider how the property had been obtained.

  "Then I suspect that, being alone, and left to the gloom of his ownmiserable thoughts, they reverted so painfully to the past that he wascompelled to drink deeply for the purpose of drowning reflection.

  "The natural consequence of this, in his state, was, that partialinsanity supervened, and at a moment when frenzy rose far abovereflection, he must have committed the dreadful act which hurried himinstantaneously to eternity."

  "Yes," said Henry; "it must have been so; you have guessed truly. He didon that occasion drink an immense quantity of wine; but instead ofstilling the pangs of remorse it must have increased them, and placedhim in such a frenzied condition of intellect, that he found itimpossible to withstand the impulse of it, unless by the terrific actwhich ended his existence."

  "Yes, and which at once crushed all my expectations of the large fortunewhich was to have been mine; for even the one-half of the sum which hadbeen taken from the gamester's pocket would have been sufficient to haveenabled me to live for the future in affluence.

  "I became perfectly maddened at the idea that so large a sum had passedout of my hands. I constantly hovered about Bannerworth Hall, hoping andexpecting that something might arise which would enable me to getadmittance to it, and make an active search through its recesses for thehidden treasure.

  "All my exertions were in vain. I could hit upon no scheme whatever; andat length, wearied and exhausted, I was compelled to proceed to Londonfor the sake of a subsistence. It is only in that great metropolis thatsuch persons as myself, destitute of real resources, but infinitelyreckless as regards the means by which they acquire a subsistence, canhope to do so. Once again, therefore, I plunged into the vortex ofLondon life, and proceeded, heedless of the criminality of what I wasabout, to cater for myself by robbery, or, indeed, in any manner whichpresented a prospect of success. It was during this career of mine, thatI became associated with some of the most desperate characters of thetime; and the offences we committed were of that daring character thatit could not be wondered at eventually so formidable a gang ofdesperadoes must be by force broken up.

  "It so occurred, but unknown to us, that the police resolved upon makingone of the most vigorous efforts to put an end to the affair, and inconsequence a watch was set upon every one of our movements.

  "The result of this was, as might have been expected, our completedispersion, and the arrest of some our members, and among them myself.

  "I knew my fate almost from the first. Our depredations had created sucha sensation, that the legislature, even, had made it a matter ofimportance that we should be suppressed, and it was an understood thingamong the judges, that the severest penalties of the law should beinflicted upon any one of the gang who might
be apprehended andconvicted.

  "My trial scarcely occupied an hour, and then I was convicted andsentenced to execution, with an intimation from the judge that it wouldbe perfectly absurd of me to dream, for one moment, of a remission ofthat sentence.

  "In this state of affairs, and seeing nothing but death before me, Igave myself up to despair, and narrowly missed cheating the hangman ofhis victim.

  "More dead than alive, I was, however, dragged out to be judiciallymurdered, and I shall never forget the crowd of frightful sensationsthat came across my mind upon that terrific occasion.

  "It seemed as if my fate had then reached its climax, and I have reallybut a dim recollection of the terrible scene.

  "I remember something of the confused murmur arising from an immensethrong of persons. I remember looking about me, and seeing nothing butwhat appeared to me an immense sea of human heads, and then suddenly Iheard a loud roar of execration burst from the multitude.

  "I shrunk back terrified, and it did, indeed, seem to me a brutal thingthus to roar and shout at a man who was brought out to die. I soon,however, found that the mob who came to see such a spectacle was not sodebased as I imagined, but that it was at the hangman, who had suddenlymade his appearance on the scaffold, at whom they raised that fearfulyell.

  "Some one--I think it was one of the sheriffs--must have noticed that Iwas labouring under the impression that the cry from the mob waslevelled at me, for he spoke, saying,--

  "'It is at the hangman they shout,' and he indicated with his fingerthat public functionary. In my mind's eye I think I see him now, and Iam certain that I shall never forget the expression of his face. It wasperfectly fearful; and afterwards, when I learned who and what he was, Iwas not surprised that he should feel so acutely the painfully degradingoffice which he had to perform.

  "The fatal rope was in a few minutes adjusted to my neck. I felt itspressure, and I heard the confused sounds of the monotonous voice of theclergyman, as he muttered some prayers, that I must confess sounded tome at the time like a mockery of human suffering.

  "Then suddenly there was a loud shout--I felt the platform give waybeneath my feet--I tried to utter a yell of agony, but could not--itseemed to me as if I was encompassed by fire, and then sensation leftme, and I knew no more.

  * * * * *

  "The next feelings of existence that came over me consisted in afrightful tingling sensation throughout my veins, and I felt myselfmaking vain efforts to scream. All the sensations of a person sufferingfrom a severe attack of nightmare came across me, and I was in such anagony, that I inwardly prayed for death to release me from such a cruelstate of suffering. Then suddenly the power to utter a sound came to me,and I made use of it well, for the piercing shriek I uttered, must havestruck terror into the hearts of all who heard it, since it appalledeven myself.

  "Then I suppose I must have fainted, but when I recovered consciousnessagain, I found myself upon a couch, and a man presenting some stimulusto me in a cup. I could not distinguish objects distinctly, but I heardhim say, 'Drink, and you will be better.'

  "I did drink, for a raging thirst consumed me, and then I fell into asound sleep, which, I was afterwards told, lasted nearly twenty-fourhours, and when I recovered from that, I heard again the same voice thathad before spoken to me, asking me how I was.

  "I turned in the direction of the sound, and, as my vision was nowclearer, I could see that it was the hangman, whose face had made uponthe scaffold such an impression upon me--an impression which I thenconsidered my last in this world, but which turned out not to be such bymany a mingled one of pain and pleasure since.

  "It was some time before I could speak, and when I did, it was only in afew muttered words, to ask what had happened, and where I was.

  "'Do you not remember,' he said, 'that you were hanged?'

  "'I do--I do,' was my reply. 'Is this the region of damned souls?'

  "'No; you are still in this world, however strange you may think it.Listen to me, and I will briefly tell you how it is that you have comeback again, as it were, from the very grave, to live and walk aboutamong the living."

  "I listened to him with a strange and rapt attention, and then he toldhow a young and enthusiastic medical man had been anxious to try someexperiments with regard to the restoration of persons apparently dead,and he proceeded to relate how it was that he had given ear to thesolicitations of the man, and had consented to bring my body after itwas hung for him to experiment upon. He related how the doctor had beensuccessful, but how he was so terrified at his own success, that hehastily fled, and had left London, no one knowing whither he had gone.

  "I listened to this with the most profound attention, and then heconcluded, by saying to me,--

  "'There can be no doubt but my duty requires of me to give you up againto the offended laws of your country. I will not, however, do that, ifyou will consent to an arrangement that I shall propose to you.'

  "I asked him what the arrangement was, and he said that if I wouldsolemnly bind myself to pay to him a certain sum per annum, he wouldkeep my secret, and forsaking his calling as hangman, endeavour to dosomething that should bring with it pleasanter results. I did sosolemnly promise him, and I have kept my word. By one means or another Ihave succeeded in procuring the required amount, and now he is no more."

  "I believe," cried Henry, "that he has fallen a victim to the blind furyof the populace."

  "You are right, he has so, and accordingly I am relieved from the burdenof those payments; but it matters little, for now I am so near the tombmyself, that, together with all my obligations, I shall soon be beyondthe reach of mortal cavilling."

  "You need not think so, Varney; you must remember that you are atpresent suffering from circumstances, the pressure of which will soonpass away, and then you will resume your wonted habits."

  "What did you do next?" said the admiral.--"Let's know all while you areabout it."

  "I remained at the hangman's house for some time, until all fear ofdiscovery was over, and then he removed me to a place of greatersecurity, providing me from his own resources with the means ofexistence, until I had fully recovered my health, and then he told me toshift for myself.

  "During my confinement though, I had not been idle mentally, for Iconcocted a plan, by which I should be enabled not only to live wellmyself, but to pay to the hangman, whose name was Mortimore, the annualsum I had agreed upon. I need not go into the details of this plan. Ofcourse it was neither an honest nor respectable one, but it succeeded,and I soon found myself in a position to enable me thereby to keep myengagement, as well as to supply me with means of plotting and planningfor my future fortunes.

  "I had never for a moment forgotten that so large a sum of money wassomewhere concealed about Bannerworth Hall, and I still looked forwardto obtaining it by some means or another.

  "It was in this juncture of affairs, that one night I was riding onhorseback through a desolate part of England. The moon was shiningsweetly, as I came to a broad stream of water, across which, about amile further on, I saw that there was a bridge, but being unwilling towaste time by riding up to it, and fancying, by the lazy ripple of thewaters, that the river was not shallow, I plunged my horse boldly intothe stream.

  "When we reached its centre, some sudden indisposition must have seizedthe horse, for instead of swimming on well and gallantly as it had donebefore, it paused for a moment, and then plunged headlong into thetorrent.

  "I could not swim, and so, for a second time, death, with all itsterrors, appeared to be taking possession of me. The waters rolled overmy head, gurgling and hissing in my ears, and then all was past. I knowno more, until I found myself lying upon a bright green meadow, and thefull beams of the moon shining upon me.

  "I was giddy and sick, but I rose, and walked slowly away, each momentgathering fresh strength, and from that time to this, I never discoveredhow I came to be rescued from the water, and lying upon that green bank.It has ever been a mystery to me, and
I expect it ever will.

  "Then from that moment the idea that I had a sort of charmed life cameacross me, and I walked about with an impression that such was the case,until I came across a man who said that he was a Hungarian, and who wasfull of strange stories of vampyres. Among other things, he told me thata vampyre could not be drowned, for that the waters would cast him uponits banks, and, if the moonbeams fell upon him, he would be restored tolife.

  "This was precisely my story, and from that moment I believed myself tobe one of those horrible, but charmed beings, doomed to such aprotracted existence. The notion grew upon me day by day, and hour byhour, until it became quite a fixed and strong belief, and I wasdeceiving no one when I played the horrible part that has beenattributed to me."

  "But you don't mean to say that you believe you are a vampyre now?" saidthe admiral.

  "I say nothing, and know not what to think. I am a desperate man, andwhat there is at all human in me, strange to say, all of you whom Isought to injure, have awakened."

  "Heed not that," said Henry, "but continue your narrative. We haveforgiven everything, and that ought to suffice to quiet your mind uponsuch a subject."

  "I will continue; and, believe me, I will conceal nothing from you. Ilook upon the words I am now uttering as a full, candid, and freeconfession; and, therefore, it shall be complete.

  "The idea struck me that if, by taking advantage of my supposedpreternatural gifts, I could drive you from Bannerworth Hall, I shouldhave it to myself to hunt through at my leisure, and possibly find thetreasure. I had heard from Marmaduke Bannerworth some slight allusion toconcealing the money behind a picture that was in a bed-room called thepanelled chamber. By inquiry, I ascertained that in that bed-room sleptFlora Bannerworth.

  "I had resolved, however, at first to try pacific measures, andaccordingly, as you are well aware, I made various proposals to you topurchase or to rent Bannerworth Hall, the whole of which you rejected;so that I found myself compelled to adopt the original means that hadsuggested themselves to me, and endeavour to terrify you from the house.

  "By prowling about, I made myself familiar with the grounds, and withall the plan of the residence, and then one night made my appearance inFlora's chamber by the window."

  "But how do you account," said Charles Holland, "for your extraordinarylikeness to the portrait?"

  "It is partly natural, for I belong to a collateral branch of thefamily; and it was previously arranged. I had seen the portrait inMarmaduke Bannerworth's time, and I knew some of its peculiarities anddress sufficiently well to imitate them. I calculated upon producing amuch greater effect by such an imitation; and it appears that I was notwrong, for I did produce it to the full."

  "You did, indeed," said Henry; "and if you did not bring conviction toour minds that you were what you represented yourself to be, you atleast staggered our judgments upon the occasion, and left us in aposition of great doubt and difficulty."

  "I did; I did all that, I know I did; and, by pursuing that line ofconduct, I, at last, I presume, entirely forced you from the house."

  "That you did."

  "Flora fainted when I entered her chamber; and the moment I looked uponher sweet countenance my heart smote me for what I was about; but Isolemnly aver, that my lips never touched her, and that, beyond thefright, she suffered nothing from Varney, the vampyre."

  "And have you succeeded," said Henry, "in your object now?"

  "No; the treasure has yet to be found. Mortimore, the hangman, followedme into the house, guessing my intention, and indulging a hope that hewould succeed in sharing with me its proceeds. But he, as well asmyself, was foiled, and nothing came of the toilsome and anxious searchbut disappointment and bitterness."

  "Then it is supposed that the money is still concealed?"

  "I hope so; I hope, as well, that it will be discovered by you andyours; for surely none can have a better right to it than you, who havesuffered so much on its account."

  "And yet," remarked Henry, "I cannot help thinking it is too securelyhidden from us. The picture has been repeatedly removed from its place,and produced no results; so that I fear we have little to expect fromany further or more protracted research."

  "I think," said Varney, "that you have everything to expect. The wordsof the dying Marmaduke Bannerworth, you may depend, were not spoken invain; and I have every reason to believe that, sooner or later, youmust, without question, become the possessors of that sum."

  "But ought we rightly to hold it?"

  "Who ought more rightly to hold it?" said Varney; "answer me that."

  "That's a sensible enough idea of your's," said the admiral; "and if youwere twice over a vampyre, I would tell you so. It's a very sensibleidea; I should like to know who has more right to it than those who havehad such a world of trouble about it."

  "Well, well," said Henry, "we must not dispute, as yet, about a sum ofmoney that may really never come to hand. For my own part, I have littleto hope for in the matter; but, certainly, nothing shall be spared, onmy part, to effect such a thorough search of the Hall as shall certainlybring it to light, if it be in existence."

  "I presume, Sir Francis Varney," said Charles Holland, "that you havenow completed your narrative?"

  "I have. After events are well known to you. And, now, I have but to liedown and die, with the hope of finding that rest and consolation in thetomb which has been denied me hitherto in this world. My life has been astormy one, and full of the results of angry passions. I do hope now,that, for the short time I have to live, I shall know something likeserenity, and die in peace."

  "You may depend, Varney, that, as long as you have an asylum with us,"said the admiral--"and that you may have as long as you like,--you maybe at peace. I consider that you have surrendered at discretion, and,under such circumstances, an enemy always deserves honourable treatment,and always gets it on board such a ship as this."

  "There you go again," said Jack, "calling the house a ship."

  "What's that to you, if I were to call it a bowsprit? Ain't I yourcaptain, you lubber, and so, sure to be right, while you are wrong, inthe natural order of things? But you go and lay down, Master Varney, andrest yourself, for you seem completely done up."

  Varney did look fearfully exhausted; and, with the assistance of Henryand Charles, he went into another apartment, and laid down upon a couch,showing great symptoms of debility and want of power.

  And now it was a calm; Varney's stay at the cottage of the Bannerworthswas productive of a different mood of mind than ever he had possessedbefore. He looked upon them in a very different manner to what he hadbeen used to. He had, moreover, considerably altered prospects; therecould not be the same hopes and expectations that he once had. He was analtered man. He saw in the Bannerworths those who had saved his life,and who, without doubt, had possessed an opinion, not merely obnoxiousto him, but must have had some fearful misgivings concerning hischaracter, and that, too, of a nature that usually shuts out all hope ofbeing received into any family.

  But, in the hour of his need, when his life was in danger, no one elsewould have done what they had done for him, especially when sorelatively placed.

  Moreover, he had been concealed, when to do so was both dangerous anddifficult; and then it was done by Flora Bannerworth herself.

  Time flew by. The mode of passing time at the cottage was calm andserene. Varney had seldom witnessed anything like it; but, at the sametime, he felt more at ease than ever he had; he was charmed with thesociety of Flora--in fact, with the whole of the little knot ofindividuals who there collected together; from what he saw he wasgratified in their society; and it seemed to alleviate his mentaldisquiet, and the sense he must feel of his own peculiar position. ButVarney became ill. The state of mind and body he had been in for sometime past might be the cause of it. He had been much harassed, andhunted from place to place. There was not a moment in which his life wasnot in danger, and he had, moreover, more than one case, received somebodily injuries, bruises, and contusions
of a desperate character; andyet he would take no notice of them, but allow them to get well again,as best they could.

  His escapes and injuries had made a deep impression upon his mind, andhad no doubt a corresponding effect upon his body, and Varney becamevery ill.

  Flora Bannerworth did all that could be done for one in his painfulposition, and this greatly added to the depths of thought thatoccasionally beset him, and he could scarcely draw one limb after theother.

  He walked from room to room in the twilight, at which time he had moreliberty permitted him than at any other, because there was not the samedanger in his doing so; for, if once seen, there could be no manner ofdoubt but he would have been pursued until he was destroyed, when noother means of escape were at hand; and Varney himself felt that therecould be no chance of his again escaping from them, for his physicalpowers were fast decaying; he was not, in fact, the same man.

  He came out into the parlour from the room in which he had been seatedduring the day. Flora and her mother were there, while Charles Hollandand Henry Bannerworth had both at that moment entered the apartment.

  "Good evening, Miss Bannerworth," said Sir Francis, bowing to her, andthen to her mother, Mrs. Bannerworth; "and you, Mr. Holland, I see, havebeen out enjoying the free breeze that plays over the hot fields. Itmust be refreshing."

  "It is so, sir," said Charles. "I wish we could make you a partaker inour walks."

  "I wish you could with all my heart," said Varney.

  "Sir Francis," said Flora, "must be a prisoner for some short timelonger yet."

  "I ought not to consider it in any such light. It is not imprisonment. Ihave taken sanctuary. It is the well spring of life to me," said Varney.

  "I hope it may prove so; but how do you find yourself this evening, SirFrancis Varney?"

  "Really, it is difficult to say--I fluctuate. At times, I feel as thoughI should drop insensible on the earth, and then I feel better than Ihave done for some time previously."

  "Doctor Chillingworth will be here bye and bye, no doubt; and he mustsee what he can do for you to relieve you of these symptoms," saidFlora.

  "I am much beholden to you--much beholden to you; but I hope to be ableto do without the good doctor's aid in this instance, though I mustadmit I may appear ungrateful."

  "Not at all--not at all."

  "Have you heard any news abroad to-day?" inquired Varney.

  "None, Sir Francis--none; there is nothing apparently stirring; and now,go out when you would, you would find nothing but what was old, quiet,and familiar."

  "We cannot wish to look upon anything with mere charms for a mind atease, than we can see under such circumstances; but I fear there aresome few old and familiar features that I should find sad havoc in."

  "You would, certainly, for the burnings and razings to the ground ofsome places, have made some dismal appearances; but time may effacethat, and then the evil may die away, and the future will become thepresent, should we be able to allay popular feeling."

  "Yes," said Sir Francis; "but popular prejudices, or justice, orfeeling, are things not easily assuaged. The people when once aroused goon to commit all kinds of excess, and there is no one point at whichthey will step short of the complete extirpation of some one object orother that they have taken a fancy to hunt."

  "The hubbub and excitement must subside."

  "The greater the ignorance the more persevering and the more brutal theyare," said Sir Francis; "but I must not complain of what is thenecessary consequence of their state."

  "It might be otherwise."

  "So it might, and no mischief arise either; but as we cannot divert thestream, we may as well bend to the force of a current too strong toresist."

  "The moon is up," said Flora, who wished to turn the conversation fromthat to another topic. "I see it yonder through the trees; it rises redand large--it is very beautiful--and yet there is not a cloud about togive it the colour and appearance it now wears."

  "Exactly so," said Sir Francis Varney; "but the reason is the air isfilled with a light, invisible vapour, that has the effect you perceive.There has been much evaporation going on, and now it shows itself ingiving the moon that peculiar large appearance and deep colour."

  "Ay, I see; it peeps through the trees, the branches of which cut it upinto various portions. It is singular, and yet beautiful, and yet theearth below seems dark."

  "It is dark; you would be surprised to find it so if you walked about.It will soon be lighter than it is at this present moment."

  "What sounds are those?" inquired Sir Francis Varney, as he listenedattentively.

  "Sounds! What sounds?" returned Henry.

  "The sounds of wheels and horses' feet," said Varney.

  "I cannot even hear them, much less can I tell what they are," saidHenry.

  "Then listen. Now they come along the road. Cannot you hear them now?"said Varney.

  "Yes, I can," said Charles Holland; "but I really don't know what theyare, or what it can matter to us; we don't expect any visitors."

  "Certainly, certainly," said Varney. "I am somewhat apprehensive of theapproach of strange sounds."

  "You are not likely to be disturbed here," said Charles.

  "Indeed; I thought so when I had succeeded in getting into the housenear the town, and so far from believing it was likely I should bediscovered, that I sat on the house-top while the mob surrounded it."

  "Did you not hear them coming?"

  "I did."

  "And yet you did not attempt to escape from them?"

  "No, I could not persuade them I was not there save by my utter silence.I allowed them to come too close to leave myself time toescape--besides, I could hardly persuade myself there could be anynecessity for so doing."

  "It was fortunate it was as it happened afterwards, that you were ableto reach the wood, and get out of it unperceived by the mob."

  "I should have been in an unfortunate condition had I been in theirhands long. A man made of iron would not be able to resist the brutalityof those people."

  As they were speaking, a gig, with two men, drove up, followed by one onhorseback. They stopped at the garden-gate, and then tarried to consultwith each other, as they looked at the house.

  "What can they want, I wonder?" inquired Henry; "I never saw thembefore."

  "Nor I," said Charles Holland.

  "Do you not know them at all?" inquired Varney.

  "No," replied Flora; "I never saw them, neither can I imagine what istheir object in coming here."

  "Did you ever see them before?" inquired Henry of his mother, who heldup her hand to look more carefully at the strangers; then, shaking herhead, she declared she had never seen such persons as those.

  "I dare say not," said Charles Holland. "They certainly are notgentlemen; but here they come; there is some mistake, I daresay--theydon't want to come here."

  As they spoke, the two strangers got down; after picking up a topcoatthey had let fall, they turned round, and deliberately put it into thechaise again; they walked up the path to the door, at which theyknocked.

  The door was opened by the old woman, when the two men entered.

  "Does Francis Beauchamp live here?"

  "Eh?" said the old woman, who was a little deaf, and she put her handbehind her ear to catch the sounds more distinctly--"eh?--who did yousay?"

  Sir Francis Varney started as the sounds came upon his ear, but he satstill an attentive listener.

  "Are there any strangers in the house?" inquired the other officer,impatiently. "Who is here?"

  "Strangers!" said the old woman; "you are the only strangers that I haveseen here."

  "Come," said the officer to his companion, "come this way; there arepeople in this parlour. Our business must be an apology for any rudenesswe may commit."

  As he spoke he stepped by the old woman, and laying his hand upon thehandle of the door, entered the apartment, at the same time lookingcarefully around the room as if he expected some one.

  "Ladies,
" said the stranger, with an off-hand politeness that hadsomething repulsive in it, though it was meant to convey a notion thatcivility was intended; "ladies, I beg pardon for intruding, but I amlooking for a gentleman."

  "You shall hear from me again soon," said Sir Francis, in an almostimperceptible whisper.

  "What is the object of this intrusion?" demanded Henry Bannerworth,rising and confronting the stranger. "This is a strange introduction."

  "Yes, but not an unusual one," said the stranger, "in these cases--beingunavoidable, at the least."

  "Sir," said Charles Holland, "if you cannot explain quickly yourbusiness here, we will proceed to take those measures which will atleast rid ourselves of your company."

  "Softly, sir. I mean no offence--not the least; but I tell you I do notcome for any purpose that is at all consonant to my wishes. I am aBow-street officer in the execution of my duty--excuse me, therefore."

  "Whom do you want?"

  "Francis Beauchamp; and, from the peculiarity of the appearance of thisindividual here, I think I may safely request the pleasure of hiscompany."

  Varney now rose, and the officer made a rush at him, when he saw him doso, saying,--

  "Surrender in the king's name."

  Varney, however, paid no attention to that, but rushed past, throwinghis chair down to impede the officer, who could not stay himself, butfell over it, while Varney made a rush towards the window, which hecleared at one bound, and crossing the road, was lost to sight in a fewseconds, in the trees and hedges on the other side.

  "Accidents will happen," said the officer, as he rose to his feet; "Idid not think the fellow would have taken the window in that manner; butwe have him in view, and that will be enough."

  "In heaven's name," said Henry, "explain all about this; we cannotunderstand one word of it--I am at a loss to understand one word of it."

  "We will return and do so presently," said the officer as he dashed outof the house after the fugitive at a rapid and reckless speed, followedby his companion.

  The man who had been left with the chaise, however, was the first in thechase; seeing an escape from the window, he immediately guessed that hewas the man wanted, and, but for an accident, he would have met Varneyat the gate, for, as he was getting out in a hurry, his foot becameentangled with the reins, and he fell to the ground, and Varney at thesame moment stepped over him.

  "Curse his infernal impudence, and d--n these reins!" muttered the manin a fury at the accident, and the aggravating circumstance of thefugitive walking over him in such a manner, and so coolly too--it wasvexing.

  The man, however, quickly released himself, and rushed after Varneyacross the road, and kept on his track for some time. The moon was stillrising, and shed but a gloomy light around. Everything was almostinvisible until you came close to it. This was the reason why Varney andhis pursuer met with several severe accidents--fumbles and hard knocksagainst impediments which the light and the rapid flight they weretaking did not admit of their avoiding very well.

  They went on for some time, but it was evident Varney knew the placebest, and could avoid what the man could not, and that was the trees andthe natural impediments of the ground, which Varney was acquainted with.

  For instance, at full speed across a meadow, a hollow would suddenlypresent itself, and to an accustomed eye the moonlight might enable itto be distinguished at a glance what it was, while to one whollyunaccustomed to it, the hollow would often look like a hillock by such alight. This Varney would clear at a bound, which a less agile andheavier person would step into, lifting up his leg to meet animpediment, when he would find it come down suddenly some six or eightinches lower than he anticipated, almost dislocating his leg and neck,and producing a corresponding loss of breath, which was not regained bythe muttered curse upon such a country where the places were so uneven.

  Having come to one of these places, which was a little more perceptiblethan the others, he made a desperate jump, but he jumped into the middleof the hole with such force that he sprained his ankle, besides sinkinginto a small pond that was almost dry, being overgrown with rushes andaquatic plants.

  "Well?" said the other officer coming up--"well?"

  "Well, indeed!" said the one who came first; "it's anything but well.D--n all country excursions say I."

  "Why, Bob, you don't mean to say as how you are caught in a rat-trap?"

  "Oh, you be d----d! I am, ain't I?"

  "Yes; but are you going to stop there, or coming out, eh? You'll catchcold."

  "I have sprained my ankle."

  "Well?"

  "It ain't well, I tell you; here have I a sprained foot, and my windbroken for a month at least. Why were you not quicker? If you had beensharper we should have had the gentleman, I'll swear!"

  "I tumbled down over the chair, and he got out of the window, and I comeout of the door."

  "Well, I got entangled in the reins; but I got off after him, only hislong legs carried him over everything. I tell you what, Wilkinson, if Iwere to be born again, and intended to be a runner, I would bespeak apair of long legs."

  "Why?"

  "Because I should be able to get along better. You have no idea of howhe skimmed along the ground; it was quite beautiful, only it wasn't goodto follow it."

  "A regular sky scraper!"

  "Yes, or something of that sort; he looked like a patent flying shadow."

  "Well, get up and lead the way; we'll follow you."

  "I dare say you will--when I lead the way back there; for as to goingout yonder, it is quite out of the question. I want supper to-night andbreakfast to-morrow morning."

  "Well, what has that to do with it?"

  "Just this much: if you follow any farther, you'll get into the woods,and there you'll be, going round and round, like a squirrel in a cage,without being able to get out, and you will there get none of the goodthings included under the head of those meals."

  "I think so too," said the third.

  "Well, then, let's go back; we needn't run, though it might be as wellto do so."

  "It would be anything but well. I don't gallop back, depend upon it."

  The three men now slowly returned from their useless chase, and re-trodthe way they had passed once in such a hurry that they could hardlyrecognize it.

  "What a dreadful bump I came against that pole standing there," saidone.

  "Yes, and I came against a hedge-stake, that was placed so as the moondidn't show any light on it. It came into the pit of my stomach. I neverrecollect such a pain in my life; for all the world like a hot coalbeing suddenly and forcibly intruded into your stomach."

  "Well, here's the road. I must go up to the house where I started himfrom. I promised them some explanation. I may as well go and give it tothem at once."

  "Do as you will. I will wait with the horse, else, perhaps, thatBeauchamp will again return and steal him."

  The officer who had first entered the house now returned to theBannerworths, saying,

  "I promised you I would give you some explanation as to what you havewitnessed."

  "Yes," said Henry; "we have been awaiting your return with some anxietyand curiosity. What is the meaning of all this? I am, as we are all, inperfect ignorance of the meaning of what took place."

  "I will tell you. The person whom you have had here, and goes by thename of Varney, is named Francis Beauchamp."

  "Indeed! Are you assured of this?"

  "Yes, perfectly assured of it; I have it in my warrant to apprehend himby either name."

  "What crime had he been guilty of?"

  "I will tell you: he has been _hanged_."

  "Hanged!" exclaimed all present.

  "What do you mean by that?" added Henry; "I am at a loss to understandwhat you can mean by saying he was hanged."

  "What I say is literally true."

  "Pray tell us all about it. We are much interested in the fact; go on,sir."

  "Well, sir, then I believe it was for murder that Francis Beauchamp washanged--yes, hang
ed; a common execution, before a multitude of people,collected to witness such an exhibition."

  "Good God!" exclaimed Henry Bannerworth. "And was--but that isimpossible. A dead man come to life again! You must be amusing yourselfat our expense."

  "Not I," replied the officer. "Here is my warrant; they don't make theseout in a joke."

  And, as he spoke, he produced the warrant, when it was evident theofficer spoke the truth.

  "How was this?"

  "I will tell you, sir. You see that this Varney was a regular scamp,gamester, rogue, and murderer. He was hanged, and hung about the usualtime; he was cut down and the body was given to some one for dissection,when a surgeon, with the hangman, one Montgomery, succeeded in restoringthe criminal to life."

  "But I always thought they broke the neck when they were hanged; theweight of the body would alone do that."

  "Oh, dear, no, sir," said the officer; "that is one of the common everyday mistakes; they don't break the neck once in twenty times."

  "Indeed!"

  "No; they die of suffocation only; this man, Beauchamp, was hanged thus,but they contrived to restore him, and then he assumed a new name, andleft London."

  "But how came you to know all this?"

  "Oh! it came to us, as many things usually do, in a very extraordinarymanner, and in a manner that appears most singular and out of the way;but such it was.

  "The executioner who was the means of his being restored, or one ofthem, wished to turn him to account, and used to draw a yearly sum ofmoney from him, as hush money, to induce them to keep the secret; else,the fact of his having escaped punishment would subject him to arepetition of the same punishment; when, of course, a little more carewould be taken that he did not escape a second time."

  "I dare say not."

  "Well, you see, Varney, or rather Beauchamp, was to pay a heavy sum tothis man to keep him quiet, and to permit him to enjoy the life he hadso strangely become possessed of."

  "I see," said Holland.

  "Well, this man, Montgomery, had always some kind of suspicion thatVarney would murder him."

  "Murder him! and be the means of saving his life; surely he could not beso bad as that."

  "Why, you see, sir, this hangman drew a heavy sum yearly from him; thusmaking him only a mine of wealth to himself; this, no doubt, wouldrankle in the other's heart, to think he should be so beset, and holdlife upon such terms."

  "I see, now."

  "Yes; and then came the consideration that he did not do it from anygood motive, merely a selfish one, and he was consequently under noobligation to him for what he had done; besides, self-preservation mighturge him on, and tell him to do the deed.

  "However that may be, Montgomery dreaded it, and was resolved to punishthe deed if he could not prevent it. He, therefore, left general orderswith his wife, whenever he went on a journey to Varney, if he should begone beyond a certain time, she was to open a certain drawer, and takeout a sealed packet to the magistrate at the chief office, who wouldattend to it.

  "He has been missing, and his wife did as she was desired, and now wehave found what he there mentioned to be true; but, now, sir, I havesatisfied you and explained to you why we intruded upon you, we must nowleave and seek for him elsewhere."

  "It is most extraordinary, and that is the reason why his complexion isso singular."

  "Very likely."

  They poured out some wine, which was handed to the officers, who drankand then quitted the house, leaving the inmates in a state ofstupefaction, from surprise and amazement at what they had heard fromthe officers.

  There was a strange feeling came over them when they recollected themany occurrences they had witnessed, and even the explanation of theofficers; it seemed as if some mist had enveloped objects and renderedthem indistinct, but which was fast rising, and they were becomingplainer and more distinct every moment in which they were regarded.

  There was a long pause, and Flora was about to speak, when suddenlythere came the sound of a footstep across the garden. It was slow butunsteady, and paused between whiles until it came close beneath thewindows. They remained silent, and then some one was heard to climb upthe rails of the veranda, and then the curtains were thrust aside, butnot till after the person outside had paused to ascertain who was there.

  Then the curtains were opened, and the visage of Sir Francis Varneyappeared, much altered; in fact, completely worn and exhausted.

  It was useless to deny it, but he looked ghastly--terrific; his singularvisage was as pallid as death; his eyes almost protruding, his mouthopened, and his breathing short, and laboured in the extreme.

  He climbed over with much difficulty, and staggered into the room, andwould have spoken, but he could not; befell senseless upon the floor,utterly exhausted and motionless.

  There was a long pause, and each one present looked at each other, andthen they gazed upon the inanimate body of Sir Francis Varney, which laysupine and senseless in the middle of the floor.

  * * * *

  The importance of the document, said to be on the dead body, was suchthat it would admit of no delay before it was obtained, and the partydetermined that it should be commenced instanter. Lost time would be anobject to them; too much haste could hardly be made; and now came thequestion of, "should it be to-night, or not?"

  "Certainly," said Henry Bannerworth; "the sooner we can get it, thesooner all doubt and distress will be at an end; and, considering theturn of events, that will be desirable for all our sakes; besides, weknow not what unlucky accident may happen to deprive us of what is sonecessary."

  "There can be none," said Mr. Chillingworth; "but there is this to besaid, this has been such an eventful history, that I cannot say whatmight or what might not happen."

  "We may as well go this very night," said Charles Holland. "I give myvote for an immediate exhumation of the body. The night is somewhatstormy, but nothing more; the moon is up, and there will be plenty oflight."

  "And rain," said the doctor.

  "Little or none," said Charles Holland. "A few gusts of wind now andthen drive a few heavy plashes of rain against the windows, and thatgives a fearful sound, which is, in fret, nothing, when you have toencounter it; but you will go, doctor?"

  "Yes, most certainly. We must have some tools."

  "Those may be had from the garden," said Henry. "Tools for theexhumation, you mean?"

  "Yes; pickaxe, mattocks, and a crowbar; a lantern, and so forth," saidthe doctor. "You see I am at home in this; the fact is, I have had morethan one affair of this kind on my hands before now, and whilst astudent I have had more than one adventure of a strange character."

  "I dare say, doctor," said Charles Holland, "you have some sad pranks toanswer for; you don't think of it then, only when you find themaccumulated in a heap, so that you shall not be able to escape them;because they come over your senses when you sleep at night."

  "No, no," said Chillingworth; "you are mistaken in that. I have longsince settled all my accounts of that nature; besides, I never took adead body out of a grave but in the name of science, and never for myown profit, seeing I never sold one in my life, or got anything by it."

  "That is not the fact," said Henry; "you know, doctor, you improved yourown talents and knowledge."

  "Yes, yes; I did."

  "Well, but you profited by such improvements?"

  "Well, granted, I did. How much more did the public not benefit then,"said the doctor, with a smile.

  "Ah, well, we won't argue the question," said Charles; "only it strikesme that the doctor could never have been a doctor if he had notdetermined upon following a profession."

  "There may be a little truth in that," said Chillingworth; "but now wehad better quit the house, and make the best of our way to the spotwhere the unfortunate man lies buried in his unhallowed grave."

  "Come with me into the garden," said Henry Bannerworth; "we shall therebe able to suit ourselves to what is required. I have a couple oflanterns."

  "One is en
ough," said Chillingworth; "we had better not burden ourselvesmore than we are obliged to do; and we shall find enough to do with thetools."

  "Yes, they are not light; and the distance is by far too great to makewalking agreeable and easy; the wind blows strong, and the rain appearsto be coming up afresh, and, by the time we have done, we shall find theground will become slippy, and bad for walking."

  "Can we have a conveyance?"

  "No, no," said the doctor; "we could, but we must trouble the turnpikeman; besides, there is a shorter way across some fields, which will bebetter and safer."

  "Well, well," said Charles Holland; "I do not mind which way it is, aslong as you are satisfied yourselves. The horse and cart would havesettled it all better, and done it quicker, besides carrying the tools."

  "Very true, very true," said the doctor; "all that is not without itsweight, and you shall choose which way you would have it done; for mypart, I am persuaded the expedition on foot is to be preferred for tworeasons."

  "And what are they?"

  "The first is, we cannot obtain a horse and cart without giving somedetail as to what you want it for, which is awkward, on account of thehour. Moreover, you could not get one at this moment in time."

  "That ought to settle the argument," said Henry Bannerworth; "animpossibility, under the circumstances, at once is a clincher, and onethat may be allowed to have some weight."

  "You may say that," said Charles.

  "Besides which, you must go a greater distance, and that, too, along themain road, which is objectionable."

  "Then we are agreed," said Charles Holland, "and the sooner we are offthe better; the night grows more and more gloomy every hour, and moreinclement."

  "It will serve our purpose the better," said Chillingworth. "What we do,we may as well do now."

  "Come with me to the garden," said Henry, "and we will take the tools.We can go out the back way; that will preclude any observation beingmade."

  They all now left the apartment, wrapped up in great overcoats, tosecure themselves against the weather, and also for the purpose ofconcealing themselves from any chance passenger.

  In the garden they found the tools they required, and having chosenthem, they took a lantern, with the mean of getting a light when theygot to their journey's end, which they would do in less than an hour.

  After having duly inspected the state of their efficiency, they startedaway on their expedition.

  The night had turned gloomy and windy; heavy driving masses of cloudsobscured the moon, which only now and then was to be seen, when theclouds permitted her to peep out. At the same time, there were manydrifting showers, which lasted but a few minutes, and then the cloudswere carried forwards by some sudden gust of wind so that, altogether,it was a most uncomfortable night as well could be imagined.

  However, there was no time to lose, and, under all circumstances, theycould not have chosen a better night for their purpose than the one theyhad; indeed, they could not desire another night to be out on such apurpose.

  They spoke not while they were within sight of the houses, though at thedistance of many yards, and, at the same time, there was a noise throughthe trees that would have carried their voices past every object,however close; but they would make assurance doubly sure.

  "I think we are fairly away now," said Henry, "from all fear of beingrecognized."

  "To be sure you are. Who would recognize us now, if we were met?"

  "No one."

  "I should think not; and, moreover, there would be but small chance ofany evil coming from it, even if it were to happen that we were to beseen and known. Nobody knows what we are going to do, and, if they did,there is no illegality in the question."

  "Certainly not; but we wish the matter to be quite secret, therefore, wedon't wish to be seen by any one while upon this adventure."

  "Exactly," said Chillingworth; "and, if you'll follow my guidance, youshall meet nobody."

  "We will trust you, most worthy doctor. What have you to say for ourconfidence?"

  "That you will find it is not misplaced."

  Just as the doctor had uttered the last sound, there came a hearty laughupon the air, which, indeed, sounded but a few paces in advance of them.The wind blew towards them, and would, therefore, cause the sounds tocome to them, but not to go away in the direction they were going.

  The whole party came to a sudden stand still; there was something sostrange in hearing a laugh at that moment, especially as Chillingworthwas, at that moment, boasting of his knowledge of the ground and thecertainty of their meeting no one.

  "What is that?" inquired Henry.

  "Some one laughing, I think," said Chillingworth.

  "Of that there can be little or no doubt," said Charles Holland; "and,as people do not usually laugh by themselves so heartily, it may bepresumed there are, at least, two."

  "No doubt of it."

  "And, moreover, their purpose cannot be a very good one, at this hour ofthe night, and of such a night, too. I think we had better be cautious."

  "Hush! Follow me silently," said Henry.

  As he spoke, he moved cautiously from the spot where he stood, and, atthe same time, he was followed by the whole party, until they came tothe hedge which skirted a lane, in which were seated three men.

  They had a sort of tent erected, and that was hung upon a part of thehedge which was to windward of them, so that it sheltered them from windand rain.

  Henry and Chillingworth both peeped over the bank, and saw them seatedbeneath this kind of canopy. They were shabby, gipsy-looking men, whomight be something else--sheep-stealers, or horse-stealers, in fact,anything, even to beggars.

  "I say, Jack," said one; "it's no bottle to-night."

  "No; there's nobody about these parts to-night. We are safe, and so arethey."

  "Exactly."

  "Besides, you see, those who do happen to be out are not worth talkingto."

  "No cash."

  "None, not enough to pay turnpike for a walking-slick, at the most."

  "Besides, it does us no good to take a few shillings from a poor wretch,who has more in family than he has shillings in pocket."

  "Ay, you are right, quite right. I don't like it myself, I don't;besides that, there's fresh risk in every man you stop, and these poorfellows will fight hard for a few shillings, and there is no knowingwhat an unlucky blow may do for a man."

  "That is very true. Has anything been done to-night?"

  "Nothing," said one.

  "Only three half crowns," said the other; "that is the extent of thecommon purse to-night."

  "And I," said the third, "I have got a bottle of bad gin from the Catand Cabbage-stump."

  "How did you manage it?"

  "Why, this way. I went in, and had some beer, and you know I can give along yarn when I want; but it wants only a little care to deceive theseknowing countrymen, so I talked and talked, until they got quite chatty,and then I put the gin in my pocket."

  "Good."

  "Well, then, the loaf and beef I took out of the safe as I came by, andI dare say they know they have lost it by this time."

  "Yes, and so do we. I expect the gin will help to digest the beef, so wemustn't complain of the goods."

  "No; give us another glass, Jim."

  Jim held the glass towards him, when the doctor, animated by the spiritof mischief, took a good sized pebble, and threw it into the glass,smashing it, and spilling the contents.

  In a moment there was a change of scene; the men were all terrified, andstarted to their feet, while a sudden gust of wind caused their light togo out; at the same time their tent-cloth was thrown down by the wind,and fell across their heads.

  "Come along," said the doctor.

  There was no need of saying so, for in a moment the three were as ifanimated by one spirit, and away they scudded across the fields, withthe speed of a race horse.

  In a few minutes they were better than half a mile away from the spot.

  "In absence of all
authentic information," said the doctor, speaking aswell as he could, and blowing prodigiously between each word, as thoughhe were fetching breath all the way from his heels, "I think we mayconclude we are safe from them. We ought to thank our stars we cameacross them in the way we did."

  "But, doctor, what in the name of Heaven induced you to make such anoise, to frighten them, in fact, and to tell them some one was about?"

  "They were too much terrified to tell whether it was one, or fifty. Bythis time they are out of the county; they knew what they were talkingabout."

  "And perhaps we may meet them on the road where we are going, thinkingit a rare lonely spot where they can hide, and no chance of their beingfound out."

  "No," said the doctor; "they will not go to such a place; it has by fartoo bad a name for even such men as those to go near, much less stopin."

  "I can hardly think that," said Charles Holland, "for these fellows aretoo terrified for their personal safety, to think of the superstitiousfears with which a place may be regarded; and these men, in such a placeas the one you speak of, they will be at home."

  "Well, well, rather than be done, we must fight for it; and when youcome to consider we have one pick and two shovels, we shall be in fullforce."

  "Well said, doctor; how far have we to go?"

  "Not more than a quarter of a mile."

  They pursued their way through the fields, and under the hedge-rows,until they came to a gate, where they stopped awhile, and began toconsult and to listen.

  "A few yards up here, on the left," said the doctor; "I know the spot;besides, there is a particular mark. Now, then, are you all ready?"

  "Yes, all."

  "Here," said the doctor, pointing out the marks by which the spot mightbe recognized; "here is the spot, and I think we shall not be half afoot out of our reckoning."

  "Then let us begin instanter," said Henry, as he seized hold of thepickaxe, and began to loosen the earth by means of the sharp end.

  "That will do for the present," said Chillingworth; "now let me andCharles take a turn with our shovels, and you will get on againpresently. Throw the earth up on the bank in one heap, so that we canput it on again without attracting any attention to the spot by itsbeing left in clods and uneven."

  "Exactly," said Henry, "else the body will be discovered."

  They began to shovel away, and continued to do so, after it had beenpicked up, working alternately, until at length Charles stuck hispick-axe into something soft, and upon pulling it up, he found it wasthe body.

  A dreadful odour now arose from the spot, and they were at no loss totell where the body lay. The pick-axe had stuck into the deceased's ribsand clothing, and thus lifted it out of its place.

  "Here it is," said the doctor; "but I needn't tell you that; thecharnel-house smell is enough to convince you of the fact of where itis."

  "I think so; just show a light upon the subject, doctor, and then we cansee what we are about--do you mind, doctor--you have the management ofthe lantern, you know?"

  "Yes, yes," said Chillingworth; "I see you have it--don't be in a hurry,but do things deliberately and coolly whatever you do--you will not beso liable to make mistakes, or to leave anything undone."

  "There will be nothing of any use to you here, doctor, in the way ofdissection, for the flesh is one mass of decay. What a horrible sight,to be sure!"

  "It is; but hasten the search."

  "Well, I must; though, to confess the truth, I'd sooner handle anythingthan this."

  "It is not the most pleasant thing in the world, for there is no knowingwhat may be the result--what creeping thing has made a home of it."

  "Don't mention anything about it."

  Henry and Charles Holland now began to search the pockets of the clothesof the dead body, in one of which was something hard, that felt like aparcel.

  "What have you got there?" said Chillingworth, as he held his lantern upso that the light fell upon the ghastly object that they were handling.

  "I think it is the prize," said Charles Holland; "but we have not got itout yet, though I dare say it won't be long first, if this wind will buthold good for about five minutes, and keep the stench down."

  They now tore open the packet and pulled out the papers, which appearedto have been secreted upon his person.

  "Be sure there are none on any other part of the body," saidChillingworth, "because what you do now, you had better do well, andleave nothing to after thought, because it is frequently impracticable."

  "The advice is good," said Henry, who made a second search, but foundnothing.

  "We had better re-bury him," said the doctor; "it had better be donecleanly. Well, it is a sad hole for a last resting-place, and yet I donot know that it matters--it is all a matter of taste--the fashion ofthe class, or the particular custom of the country."

  There was but little to be said against such an argument, though thecustom of the age had caused them to look upon it more as a matter offeeling than in such a philosophical sense as that in which the doctorhad put it.

  "Well, there he is now--shovel the earth in, Charles," said HenryBannerworth, as he himself set the example, which was speedily andvigorously followed by Charles Holland, when they were not long beforethe earth was thrown in and covered up with care, and trodden down sothat it should not appear to be moved.

  "This will do, I think," said Henry.

  "Yes; it is not quite the same, but I dare say no one will try to makeany discoveries in this place; besides, if the rain continues to comedown very heavy, why, it will wash much of it away, and it will make itlook all alike."

  There was little inducement to hover about the spot, but Henry could notforbear holding up the papers to the light of the lantern to ascertainwhat they were.

  "Are they all right?" inquired the doctor.

  "Yes," replied Henry, "yes. The Dearbrook estate. Oh! yes; they are thepapers I am in want of."

  "It is singularly fortunate, at least, to be successful in securingthem. I am very glad a living person has possession of them, else itwould have been very difficult to have obtained it from them."

  "So it would; but now homeward is the word, doctor; and on my word thereis reason to be glad, for the rain is coming on very fast now, and thereis no moon at all--we had better step out."

  They did, for the three walked as fast as the nature of the soil wouldpermit them, and the darkness of the night.

 

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