Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood by Prest and Rymer (most recommended books .txt) đź“•
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- Author: Prest and Rymer
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"Well," said Charles Holland, "this has not been exacted from you as the price of your safety, but you can choose your own time, of course; what you promise is most desired, for it will render those happy who now are much worse than they were before these occurrences took place."
"I am aware of all that; grant me but one week, and then you shall be made acquainted with all."
"I am satisfied, Sir Francis," said Flora; "but while here under our roof, we should never have asked you a question."
"Of this, Miss Bannerworth, the little I have seen of you assures me you would not do so; however, I am the more inclined to make it—I am under so deep an obligation to you all, that I can never repay it."
Sir Francis Varney retired to rest that night—his promise to the Bannerworths filled his mind with many reflections—the insecurity of his own position, and the frail tenure which he even held in the hands of 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 they appeared to chase each other over the face of the scene—now casting a shade over the earth, and then banishing the shadows, and throwing a gentle light over the earth's surface, which was again chased away, and shadows again fell upon the scene below.
How long he had sat there in melancholy musing he knew not; but suddenly he was aroused from his dreams by a voice that shook the skies, and caused him to start to his feet.
"Hurrah!—hurrah!—hurrah!" shouted the mob, which had silently collected around the cottage of the Bannerworths.
"Curses!" muttered Sir Francis, as he again sank in his chair, and struck his head with his hand. "I am hunted to death—they will not leave 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 the outside made so great a din, that it seemed as though they contemplated knocking the house down at once, without warning the inmates that they waited there.
There was a cessation for about a minute, when one of the family hastened 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—no one shall be hurt, or one single object in the house; but we must come in, and search for the vampyre."
"Come to-morrow, then."
"That will not do," said the voice; "open, or we force our way in without more notice."
At the same a tremendous blow was bestowed upon the door, and then much force was used to thrust it in. A consultation was suddenly held among the inmates, as to what was to be done, but no one could advise, and each 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 no chance of keeping them off, neither can you conceal me. You will have no place, 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 be profaned by any such presence as Sir Francis Varney's.
However, the doors below were suddenly burst open, amid loud cries from the populace, who rushed in in great numbers, and began to search the lower rooms, immediately.
"All is lost!" said Sir Francis Varney, as he dashed away and rushed to the chamber of Flora, who, alarmed at the sounds that were now filling the 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 not worth a minute's purchase, unless you save me. You, and you alone, can now save me. Oh! Miss Bannerworth, if ever pity touched your heart, save me from those only whom I now fear. I could meet death in any shape but that in which they will inflict it upon me. Hear their execrations below!"
"Death to the vampyre! death to Varney! burn him! run a stake through his 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 now throw away the boon you have so kindly bestowed. Save me, Miss Bannerworth."
"It is not possible. I—"
"Nay, Miss Bannerworth, do you imagine this is a time for ceremony, or the observances of polished life! On my honour, you run no risk of censure."
"Where is Varney? Where is the vampyre? He ain't far off."
"Hear—hear them, Miss Bannerworth. They are now at the foot of the stairs. Not a moment to lose. One minute more, and I am in the hands of a crew that has no mercy."
"Hurrah! upstairs! He's not below. Upstairs, neighbours, we shall have him yet!"
These words sounded on the stairs: half-a-dozen more steps, and Varney would 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 his clenched hand, and was about to rush upon his foes, when he heard the lock turn; he looked, and saw the door opened gently, and Flora stood there; he passed in, and sank cowering into a chair, at the other end of the room, behind some curtains.
The door was scarcely shut ere some tried to force it, and then a loud knocking came at the door.
"Open! open! we want Varney, the vampyre. Open! or we will burst it open."
Flora did open it, but stood resolutely in the opening, and held up her hand to impose silence.
"Are you men, that you can come thus to force yourselves upon the privacy of a female? Is there nothing in the town or house, that you must intrude in numbers into a private apartment? Is no place sacred from 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 act thus?"
"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 to sicken her of a vampyre. You may be sure that's the last place to find him in."
With this they all turned away, and Flora shut the door and locked it upon 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 anxiously to catch some sounds; the moon fell across his face, and gave it a ghastly hue, that, added to his natural paleness and wounds, gave him an almost unearthly aspect.
The sounds grew more and more distant; the shouts and noise of men traversing the apartments subsided, and gradually the place became restored to its original silence. The mob, after having searched every other part of the house, and not finding the object of their search, they concluded that he was not there, but must have made his escape before.
This most desperate peril of Sir Francis Varney seemed to have more effect upon him than anything that had occurred during his most strange and most eventful career.
When he was assured that the riotous mob that had been so intent upon his destruction was gone, and that he might emerge from his place of concealment, he did so with an appearance of such utter exhaustion that the Bannerworth family could not but look upon him as a being who was near his end.
At any time his countenance, as we long have had occasion to remark,
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