CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE THREAT.--ITS CONSEQUENCES.--THE RESCUE, AND SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'SDANGER.
Sir Francis Varney now paused again, and he seemed for a few moments togloat over the helpless condition of her whom he had so determined tomake his victim; there was no look of pity in his face, no one touch ofhuman kindness could be found in the whole expression of thosediabolical features; and if he delayed making the attempt to striketerror into the heart of that unhappy, but beautiful being, it could notbe from any relenting feeling, but simply, that he wished for a fewmoments to indulge his imagination with the idea of perfecting hisvillany more effectually.
Alas! and they who would have flown to her rescue,--they, who for herwould have chanced all accidents, ay, even life itself, were sleeping,and knew not of the loved one's danger. She was alone, and far enoughfrom the house, to be driven to that tottering verge where sanity ends,and the dream of madness, with all its terrors, commences.
But still she slept--if that half-waking sleep could indeed beconsidered as any thing akin to ordinary slumber--still she slept, andcalled mournfully upon her lover's name; and in tender, beseechingaccents, that should have melted even the stubbornest hearts, did sheexpress her soul's conviction that he loved her still.
The very repetition of the name of Charles Holland seemed to be gallingto Sir Francis Varney. He made a gesture of impatience, as she againuttered it, and then, stepping forward, he stood within a pace of whereshe sat, and in a fearfully distinct voice he said,--
"Flora Bannerworth, awake! awake! and look upon me, although the sightblast and drive you to despair. Awake! awake!"
It was not the sound of the voice which aroused her from that strangeslumber. It is said that those who sleep in that eccentric manner, areinsensible to sounds, but that the lightest touch will arouse them in aninstant; and so it was in this case, for Sir Francis Varney, as hespoke, laid upon the hand of Flora two of his cold, corpse-like lookingfingers. A shriek burst from her lips, and although the confusion of hermemory and conceptions was immense, yet she was awake, and thesomnambulistic trance had left her.
"Help, help!" she cried. "Gracious Heavens! Where am I?"
Varney spoke not, but he spread out his long, thin arms in such a mannerthat he seemed almost to encircle her, while he touched her not, so thatescape became a matter of impossibility, and to attempt to do so, musthave been to have thrown herself into his hideous embrace.
She could obtain but a single view of the face and figure of him whoopposed her progress, but, slight as that view was, it more thansufficed. The very extremity of fear came across her, and she sat likeone paralysed; the only evidence of existence she gave consisting in thewords,--
"The vampyre--the vampyre!"
"Yes," said Varney, "the vampyre. You know me, FloraBannerworth--Varney, the vampyre; your midnight guest at that feast ofblood. I am the vampyre. Look upon me well; shrink not from my gaze. Youwill do well not to shun me, but to speak to me in such a shape that Imay learn to love you."
Flora shook as in a convulsion, and she looked as white as any marblestatue.
"This is horrible!" she said. "Why does not Heaven grant me the death Ipray for?"
"Hold!" said Varney. "Dress not up in the false colours of theimagination that which in itself is sufficiently terrific to need noneof the allurements of romance. Flora Bannerworth, you arepersecuted--persecuted by me, the vampyre. It is my fate to persecuteyou; for there are laws to the invisible as well as the visible creationthat force even such a being as I am to play my part in the great dramaof existence. I am a vampyre; the sustenance that supports this framemust be drawn from the life-blood of others."
"Oh, horror--horror!"
"But most I do affect the young and beautiful. It is from the veins ofsuch as thou art, Flora Bannerworth, that I would seek the sustenanceI'm compelled to obtain for my own exhausted energies. But never yet, inall my long career--a career extending over centuries of time--never yethave I felt the soft sensation of human pity till I looked on thee,exquisite piece of excellence. Even at the moment when the revivingfluid from the gushing fountain of your veins was warming at my heart, Ipitied and I loved you. Oh, Flora! even I can now feel the pang of beingwhat I am!"
There was a something in the tone, a touch of sadness in the manner, anda deep sincerity in these words, that in some measure disabused Flora ofher fears. She sobbed hysterically, and a gush of tears came to herrelief, as, in almost inarticulate accents, she said,--
"May the great God forgive even you!"
"I have need of such a prayer," exclaimed Varney--"Heaven knows I haveneed of such a prayer. May it ascend on the wings of the night air tothe throne of Heaven. May it be softly whispered by ministering angelsto the ear of Divinity. God knows I have need of such a prayer!"
"To hear you speak in such a strain," said Flora, "calms the excitedfancy, and strips even your horrible presence of some of its maddeninginfluence."
"Hush," said the vampire, "you must hear more--you must know more ereyou speak of the matters that have of late exercised an influence ofterror over you."
"But how came I here?" said Flora, "tell me that. By what more thanearthly power have you brought me to this spot? If I am to listen toyou, why should it not be at some more likely time and place?"
"I have powers," said Varney, assuming from Flora's words, that shewould believe such arrogance--"I have powers which suffice to bend manypurposes to my will--powers incidental to my position, and therefore isit I have brought you here to listen to that which should make youhappier than you are."
"I will attend," said Flora. "I do not shudder now; there's an icycoldness through my veins, but it is the night air--speak, I will attendyou."
"I will. Flora Bannerworth, I am one who has witnessed time's mutationson man and on his works, and I have pitied neither; I have seen the fallof empires, and sighed not that high reaching ambition was toppled tothe dust. I have seen the grave close over the young and thebeautiful--those whom I have doomed by my insatiable thirst for humanblood to death, long ere the usual span of life was past, but I neverloved till now."
"Can such a being as you," said Flora "be susceptible of such an earthlypassion?"
"And wherefore not?"
"Love is either too much of heaven, or too much of earth to find a homewith thee."
"No, Flora, no! it may be that the feeling is born of pity. I will saveyou--I will save you from a continuance of the horrors that areassailing you."
"Oh! then may Heaven have mercy in your hour of need!"
"Amen!"
"May you even yet know peace and joy above."
"It is a faint and straggling hope--but if achieved, it will be throughthe interposition of such a spirit as thine, Flora, which has alreadyexercised so benign an influence upon my tortured soul, as to producethe wish within my heart, to do a least one unselfish action."
"That wish," said Flora, "shall be father to the deed. Heaven hasboundless mercy yet."
"For thy sweet sake, I will believe so much, Flora Bannerworth; it is acondition with my hateful race, that if we can find one human heart tolove us, we are free. If, in the face of Heaven, you will consent to bemine, you will snatch me from a continuance of my frightful doom, andfor your pure sake, and on your merits, shall I yet know heavenlyhappiness. Will you be mine?"
A cloud swept from off the face of the moon, and a slant ray fell uponthe hideous features of the vampire. He looked as if just rescued fromsome charnel-house, and endowed for a space with vitality to destroy allbeauty and harmony in nature, and drive some benighted soul to madness.
"No, no, no!" shrieked Flora, "never!"
"Enough," said Varney, "I am answered. It was a bad proposal. I am avampyre still."
"Spare me! spare me!"
"Blood!"
Flora sank upon her knees, and uplifted her hands to heaven. "Mercy,mercy!" she said.
"Blood!" said Varney, and she saw his hideous, fang-like teeth. "Blood!Flora Bannerworth,
the vampyre's motto. I have asked you to love me, andyou will not--the penalty be yours."
"No, no!" said Flora. "Can it be possible that even you, who havealready spoken with judgment and precision, can be so unjust? you mustfeel that, in all respects, I have been a victim, most gratuitously--asufferer, while there existed no just cause that I should suffer; onewho has been tortured, not from personal fault, selfishness, lapse ofintegrity, or honourable feelings, but because you have found itnecessary, for the prolongation of your terrific existence, to attack meas you have done. By what plea of honour, honesty, or justice, can I beblamed for not embracing an alternative which is beyond all humancontrol?--I cannot love you."
"Then be content to suffer. Flora Bannerworth, will you not, even for atime, to save yourself and to save me, become mine?"
"Horrible proposition!"
"Then am I doomed yet, perhaps, for many a cycle of years, to spreadmisery and desolation around me; and yet I love you with a feeling whichhas in it more of gratefulness and unselfishness than ever yet found ahome within my breast. I would fain have you, although you cannot saveme; there may yet be a chance, which shall enable you to escape from thepersecution of my presence."
"Oh! glorious chance!" said Flora. "Which way can it come? tell me how Imay embrace it, and such grateful feelings as a heart-stricken mournercan offer to him who has rescued her from her deep affliction, shall yetbe yours."
"Hear me, then, Flora Bannerworth, while I state to you some particularsof mysterious existence, of such beings as myself, which never yet havebeen breathed to mortal ears."
Flora looked intently at him, and listened, while, with a seriousearnestness of manner, he detailed to her something of the physiology ofthe singular class of beings which the concurrence of all circumstancestended to make him appear.
"Flora," he said, "it is not that I am so enamoured of an existence tobe prolonged only by such frightful means, which induces me to become aterror to you or to others. Believe me, that if my victims, those whommy insatiable thirst for blood make wretched, suffer much, I, thevampyre, am not without my moments of unutterable agony. But it is amysterious law of our nature, that as the period approaches when theexhausted energies of life require a new support from the warm, gushingfountain of another's veins, the strong desire to live grows upon us,until, in a paroxysm of wild insanity, which will recognise noobstacles, human or divine, we seek a victim."
"A fearful state!" said Flora.
"It is so; and, when the dreadful repast is over, then again the pulsebeats healthfully, and the wasted energies of a strange kind of vitalityare restored to us, we become calm again, but with that calmness comesall the horror, all the agony of reflection, and we suffer far more thantongue can tell."
"You have my pity," said Flora; "even you have my pity."
"I might well demand it, if such a feeling held a place within yourbreast. I might well demand your pity, Flora Bannerworth, for nevercrawled an abject wretch upon the earth's rotundity, so pitiable as I."
"Go on, go on."
"I will, and with such brief conclusions as I may. Having once attackedany human being, we feel a strange, but terribly impulsive desire againto seek that person for more blood. But I love you, Flora; the smallamount of sensibility that still lingers about my preternaturalexistence, acknowledges in you a pure and better spirit. I would fainsave you."
"Oh! tell me how I may escape the terrible infliction."
"That can only be done by flight. Leave this place, I implore you! leaveit as quickly as the movement may be made. Linger not--cast not oneregretful look behind you on your ancient home. I shall remain in thislocality for years. Let me lose sight of you, I will not pursue you;but, by force of circumstances, I am myself compelled to linger here.Flight is the only means by which you may avoid a doom as terrific asthat which I endure."
"But tell me," said Flora, after a moment's pause, during which sheappeared to be endeavouring to gather courage to ask some fearfulquestion; "tell me if it be true that those who have once endured theterrific attack of a vampyre, become themselves, after death, one ofthat dread race?"
"It is by such means," said Varney, "that the frightful brood increases;but time and circumstances must aid the development of the new andhorrible existence. You, however, are safe."
"Safe! Oh! say that word again."
"Yes, safe; not once or twice will the vampyre's attack have sufficientinfluence on your mortal frame, as to induce a susceptibility on yourpart to become coexistent with such as he. The attacks must be oftenrepeated, and the termination of mortal existence must be a consequenceessential, and direct from those attacks, before such a result may beanticipated."
"Yes, yes; I understand."
"If you were to continue my victim from year to year, the energies oflife would slowly waste away, and, till like some faint taper's gleam,consuming more sustenance than it received, the veriest accident wouldextinguish your existence, and then, Flora Bannerworth, you might becomea vampyre."
"Oh! horrible! most horrible!"
"If by chance, or by design, the least glimpse of the cold moonbeamsrested on your apparently lifeless remains, you would rise again and beone of us--a terror to yourself and a desolation to all around."
"Oh! I will fly from here," said Flora. "The hope of escape from soterrific and dreadful a doom shall urge me onward; if flight can saveme--flight from Bannerworth Hall, I will pause not until continents andoceans divide us."
"It is well. I'm able now thus calmly to reason with you. A few shortmonths more and I shall feel the languor of death creeping over me, andthen will come that mad excitement of the brain, which, were you hiddenbehind triple doors of steel, would tempt me again to seek yourchamber--again to seize you in my full embrace--again to draw from yourveins the means of prolonged life--again to convulse your very soul withterror."
"I need no incentives," said Flora, with a shudder, "in the shape ofdescriptions of the past, to urge me on."
"You will fly from Bannerworth Hall?"
"Yes, yes!" said Flora, "it shall be so; its very chambers now arehideous with the recollection of scenes enacted in them. I will urge mybrothers, my mother, all to leave, and in some distant clime we willfind security and shelter. There even we will learn to think of you withmore of sorrow than of anger--more pity than reproach--more curiositythan loathing."
"Be it so," said the vampyre; and he clasped his hands, as if with athankfulness that he had done so much towards restoring peace at leastto one, who, in consequence of his acts, had felt such exquisitedespair. "Be it so; and even I will hope that the feelings which haveinduced so desolated and so isolated a being as myself to endeavour tobring peace to one human heart, will plead for me, trumpet-tongued, toHeaven!"
"It will--it will," said Flora.
"Do you think so?"
"I do; and I will pray that the thought may turn to certainty in such acause."
The vampyre appeared to be much affected; and then he added,--
"Flora, you know that this spot has been the scene of a catastrophefearful to look back upon, in the annals of your family?"
"It has," said Flora. "I know to what you allude; 'tis a matter ofcommon knowledge to all--a sad theme to me, and one I would not court."
"Nor would I oppress you with it. Your father, here, on this very spot,committed that desperate act which brought him uncalled for to thejudgment seat of God. I have a strange, wild curiosity upon suchsubjects. Will you, in return for the good that I have tried to do you,gratify it?"
"I know not what you mean," said Flora.
"To be more explicit, then, do you remember the day on which your fatherbreathed his last?"
"Too well--too well."
"Did you see him or converse with him shortly before that desperate actwas committed?"
"No; he shut himself up for some time in a solitary chamber."
"Ha! what chamber?"
"The one in which I slept myself on the night--"
"Yes, yes; th
e one with the portrait--that speaking portrait--the eyesof which seem to challenge an intruder as he enters the apartment."
"The same."
"For hours shut up there!" added Varney, musingly; "and from thence hewandered to the garden, where, in this summer-house, he breathed hislast?"
"It was so."
"Then, Flora, ere I bid you adieu--"
These words were scarcely uttered, when there was a quick, hastyfootstep, and Henry Bannerworth appeared behind Varney, in the veryentrance of the summer-house.
"Now," he cried, "for revenge! Now, foul being, blot upon the earth'ssurface, horrible imitation of humanity, if mortal arm can do aughtagainst you, you shall die!"
A shriek came from the lips of Flora, and flinging herself past Varney,who stepped aside, she clung to her brother, who made an unavailing passwith his sword at the vampyre. It was a critical moment; and had thepresence of mind of Varney deserted him in the least, unarmed as he was,he must have fallen beneath the weapon of Henry. To spring, however, upthe seat which Flora had vacated, and to dash out some of the flimsy androtten wood-work at the back of the summer-house by the propulsive powerof his whole frame, was the work of a moment; and before Henry couldfree himself from the clinging embrace of Flora, Varney, the vampyre wasgone, and there was no greater chance of his capture than on a formeroccasion, when he was pursued in vain from the Hall to the wood, in theintricacies of which he was so entirely lost.