 CHAPTER 120 THE HUNT FOR THE VAMPIRE IN THE SUBTERRAINIAN PASSAGE The information that had been given to Mrs. Williams, respecting her daughter and James Anderson having together left the Great Hall of Anderbury House, was perfectly correct. The voice of Anderson, whispering words of affection in the ear of Helen, was sufficient to arouse her from the state of syncope in which she had fallen. And when she recovered and looked in his face, the expression of joy which her countenance wore at once dispelled all his doubts. Helen, dear Helen, he whispered, are you indeed still in heart mine? Still as ever, she replied, come with me, I have much to tell you, and we need not heed the thoughts and feelings of the throng that is here. If you can walk, place your arm in mine, and lean upon me, and we will get out of all this trouble and confusion. Helen was but too glad to avail herself of such an offer, and she accordingly at once did so. And leaning for support upon that arm, which of all others she most loved to bear upon, they together passed out of the Great Hall through one of the numerous doorways leading from it. Being both of them quite ignorant of what may be called the topography of Anderbury House, they went on till they came to a small but very elegant apartment in which a table was laid with wines and some costly refreshments, which from the fact of an extremely clerical-looking shovel-hat being upon one of the chairs, there was no great difficulty in coming to the conclusion that this had been a reception room, got up purposely for the Reverend Gentleman who was to perform the ceremony of marriage between the Baron and Miss Williams, and in which he had refreshed himself prior to the performance of that dreadfully arduous task, for which, no doubt, as all persons are, he was so very insufficiently paid. On a glass of wine, which James Anderson poured out for Helen, tended much to recover her, and when he said to her in accents of the greatest affection, Helen, Helen, is it possible that you really so far forgot me as to promise your hand to another? She burst into tears as she clung to his arm, saying, I know you cannot, you ought not to forgive me. I did promise, but I did not forget you, and if you know the cruel persecution to which I have been subjected, you would pity, perhaps, as much as you condemn me. You did not know that some days since I wrote you a note. Me a note? Oh heavens, no, no! What became of it? To whom did you entrust it? Oh, James, had I but thought you were near me, do you think that for one moment I would have yielded even to the representations which were made to me? I see it all, he said. Your mother has carried on this matter with more tact than candor and honesty of purpose. I do not condemn you, dear Helen, and no one shall ever disturb you in your possession of a heart which is wholly yours. And can you forget all but that I love you I can and will forget, Helen? I do not deserve this noble generosity, for I ought not to have yielded, James. I feel that I ought to have clung to the remembrance of your affection and found in that an abundant consolation as well as abundant strength to resist the whole world. Say no more, dearest, upon that head, but let us to the full enjoy the happiness of this meeting without the drawback of a single doubt. We will never part again. Never, never! But, James, what was the meaning of that sudden exclamation from one of the guests as regarded the baron? You allude to Admiral Bell proclaiming him to be a vampire, and I must say it fills me with quite as much astonishment as it can you. I did hear a strange story of that sort from a sailor a short time ago, but I looked upon it as a mere superstition and paid no attention to it. You know what it means, I presume, and that a vampire is supposed to be a half supernatural creature who supports a spurious and horrible existence by feeding upon the blood of anyone whom he can make his victim. If this horrible superstition, said Helen with a shudder, be true, what a dreadful fate have I escaped? It surely must be some error of judgment, but still, dear one, you have escaped a dreadful fate, a fate worse than any vampire would have afflicted upon you, the fate of being united with one whom you cannot love. Yes, said Helen, that is indeed an escape, but how came you of all persons in the world a guest here? I came, Helen, under cover of a general invitation with a most worthy family to whose kindness I feel myself much indebted, and which empowered them to bring with them whom they pleased. My wish and object was to take one last look at the face I had loved so well before I left you forever. Oh heavens, said Helen, and I was so near being sacrificed while you were by. Even now I shudder at the dreadful chasm. I feel that you ought not to forgive me. Say no more, say no more. All that, Helen, is now past and forgotten, and I can well imagine how your mother would torture you with supplications, because she believed this man to be rich and consequently the sort of person above all others, as most desirable for her to have as a son-in-law. We will only consider that a great anxiety and a great danger has passed away, and we will not stop to ask ourselves what it was. Ever good and ever generous, resumed Helen, as her head reposed upon her lover's breast. Oh! said Jack Pringle as he popped his head in at the door. I beg your pardon, you are better engaged, but we are going to have a grand vampire hunt through the house, and I thought you would like to join it, perhaps. Stay a moment, stay! cried Anderson. Do you mean to tell me really that this is the person who gave your friends the Bannerworths so much trouble and inconvenience? Yes, I do, said Jack. Lord bless you, he is quite an old acquaintance of ours, is old Varney. Sometimes he hunts us, sometimes we hunt him. He is rather a troublesome acquaintance, notwithstanding, and I think there are a good many people in the world, a jolly right worse vampires than Varney. I have no cause to hunt him, said Anderson, and so therefore I feel certainly more inclined to decline than otherwise engaging in such a transaction. Don't mention it, said Jack. You are a deuce to deal better engaged, and there needs no excuses. Jack was quite right as regarded the projected hunt for the unfortunate Varney in Andeberry House, for the liberal offer of reward which the Admiral had made to anyone who would secure him was calculated to stimulate every possible exertion that people could make upon the occasion. So much so indeed that the Bannerworths, after a brief consultation among themselves, thought that for the protection of Varney it would be much better that they should find him than now leave him with the character that had been given him as such a dangerous member of society. The servants and some of the guests even had gone very systematically to work for the purpose of taking Varney prisoner. For in the first instance they had secured all the outlets from the house, so that as the footmen with the yellow plush continuations remarked he must jump over a cliff if he wanted to get away. The Admiral and Henry agreed with each other that they would be foremost in the search in order to protect Varney from any violence. For although this conduct of his might be considered as very bad and an outrage upon society in passing himself off as a baron and endeavoring to effect an alliance with a young and innocent girl, yet they the Bannerworths had nothing to complain of in the transaction whatever. Consequently was it that they felt an inclination to defend Varney from personal violence. And this was to a certain extent to be dreaded, because Anderbury being so short a distance from Bannerworth it was not to be supposed but that some news of the mysterious appearance of the vampire had reached the ears of almost everyone who happened to be present at the baron's wedding. And although these persons might be supposed to belong to a class of society not likely to commit acts of violence, yet there was no knowing what in the excitement of the moment might be done. While the search went on, Flora was introduced to Helen Williams and remained with her commencing a friendship which lasted afterwards to the great advantage of Helen for many a year. The Bannerworths would have been pleased and interested at going over Anderbury House under any other circumstances than the present one, for truly the baron had made it a most magnificent abode. By judicious additions to the antique furniture which had belonged to it when he took it, he had made some of the apartments look gorgeous in the extreme, and while he had not disturbed the character of the decorations, he had certainly shown a very fine taste in adding to them. But their minds were by far too much occupied with considerations connected with Varney to pay much attention to his house, and as they traversed room after room in search of him without finding him, they began to think that, with his usual good fortune, he had contrived entirely to escape. The servants, who knew the place well, perhaps better than Varney did himself, searched for him in almost impossible places until it began to be the general opinion that he must have escaped. They were standing by a large bay window which commanded a view of the gardens when one of the servants suddenly exclaimed, I see him, I see him, there he goes, and pointed into the garden where, for one instant, Henry Bannerworth, as well as the admiral, saw Varney in his rich suit of wedding apparel, dart from among the bushes towards a summer house that was in the garden near at hand. "'Tis he indeed,' said Henry, let us get down instantly, or he may yet affect his escape.' "'No, no,' cried one of the servants, he cannot do that. The garden wall is too high, and the men are stationed at the gate. It's quite clear to me what he is about. Look at him, he is going towards the old passage that leads to the seashore.' "'Then he will escape, of course,' said Henry, for no one can hope to overtake him. "'Don't you be afraid of that, sir?' cried the servant. One of my mates has gone round to the beach to watch, and he won't let the door be opened that leads out onto the sands, so he cannot get away by that mode.' "'In that case, then, we have him completely entrapped, and, as you say, he cannot escape. It must be the madness of positive desperation that induces him to go to that place.' "'Let us be off it once after him,' said the admiral. "'That is our only plan. Come on at once. The sooner we get hold of him, the better, for his own sake as well as for ours.' Thus urged, they all proceeded towards the garden, in which was the mysterious, well-like entrance to the subterraneous passage, which formed so great a feature in the estate of Andebury on the moment and which, at the time that Varney had taken the mansion, had evidently formed to him one of its principal attractions. To the admiral and his party, as well as to several of the guests, who joined from motives of curiosity in the pursuit for Varney, this place was perfectly new, and it certainly, to look down it, did not present by any means an inviting prospect, for although it sloped sufficiently to take off the absolute appearance of being a downright hole in the earth, yet, beyond a few feet in depth, the gloom had something positively terrific about it. Well, said the admiral, I've been into the hold of many a ship, but never one that looked half so gloomy as this, I can say. What do you say to it, Jack? There's no use saying anything to such places, said Jack. The only way, if we want to catch old Varney, which I suppose we do, is to pop down it at once and done with it. So come along, I won't flinch if it was ten times worse. Come on, admiral, let's go down after the enemy. I cannot say it's exactly the kind of place I admire, said the admiral, but, how summed ever, if one must go down it, who shall say that admiral Bell flinched from it? Come on, all of you, let all who will follow. The passage did not look a very inviting one, and it was found that the courage of the guests began to cool down wonderfully when, instead of rushing from apartment to apartment in search of Varney the Vampire, they found that they had to encounter the gloom and darkness of that underground abode. Out of the positive throng which had been pursuing Varney, only four, in addition to the admiral and the male portion of his party, ventured to descend into that black-looking place. What, said Jack, have we got such a bunch of skulkers whenever we come to close quarters with the enemy? Well, shiver my timbers if I didn't expect as much from a lot of land-lubbers who don't know what they are about any more than a marine in a squall. But who cares? Come along, admiral, and if we have to do all the fighting, we shall, at all events, have all the glory. I hope there will be nothing of the one at all events, said Henry, for my intention is rather to save Varney from injury than to injure him. We must have lights, said the admiral. I don't mind going down into a queer place to look for Varney, but I must have the means of seeing what I am about when I get there. They will be here, sir, directly, said the big footmen, who from the first had made himself conspicuous in the pursuit of Varney, that is to say, ever since the reward of one hundred pounds had been offered by the admiral to anyone who would take him prisoner. And in a few moments some of the links which were always kept in the kitchen of Anderbury House, for the express purpose of descending into the subterraneous passages with, were produced and lighted. By this time, too, the four guests had decreased to three, and two of those seemed to hang back rather a little, while one of them seemed disposed to make up as much as possible for any deficiency of courage on the part of the others by declaring his intention of ferreting out Varney, let him be hidden where he might. I am with you, sir, he said to the admiral, let this place lead where it may, for I have heard so much about vampires and I have heard so much about vampires and really am so curious to know more about them. You don't believe in them, do you? I can't say that I do, sir, but at the same time, when we hear such well-authenticated cases brought forward about them, it is very difficult, indeed, to say at once, that one has no belief in such things. Well, you are right enough there, and if you knew as much about Varney the vampire as we do, I think you would be a little puzzled to know what to say about him, for I'll be hanged if he don't puzzle me above a bit, and I don't know now what to think of him. Chapter 121 The Death of the Inquisitive Guest The Escape of Sir Francis Varney The guest who was so valorous and so very impatient for the capture of Varney would have preceded everybody in descending to the passage cut in the cliff, but Henry Bannerworth thought not only was it more particularly his concern to do so, but that as he knew Varney better, it was desirable that he should go first. He thought there would be less likelihood of any mischief by adopting such a kind of procedure, for he did not anticipate that Varney would willingly do him any injury, while as regarded what he might do if any stranger should attempt to seize him, that was quite another affair. You do not know him as we know him, said Henry, to the guest. He is a dangerous man, and in all respects, such in one as your prudence might well induce you to keep clear of. Allow me to precede you, therefore, for the sake of preventing the probability of the most unpleasant consequences. This argument appeared to have its effect and to damp a little the ardor of this individual, which it might well enough do without casting any imputation upon his courage whatever. For, after all, he could have no strong motive in the pursuit of Varney, since he was in a line of life which would have prevented him, even if he had been the sole captor of Varney, from taking the reward which the admiral had offered for his apprehension. The sudden change from the daylight and all the noise and bustle which had animated the scene above to the silence, the darkness, and the strange atmosphere which reigned in the underground region could not fail of having some effect upon the imagination of everyone present. This effect would, of course, vary in different individuals, being the greatest in those of a highly excitable and imaginative turn of mind, and the less in those who were of a more matter-of-fact kind of intellect. Probably Henry Bannerworth felt more acutely than anyone else the full effect which such a scene was likely to produce, and he was profoundly silent upon the occasion for some time. Under even the most extraordinary circumstances, the descent into such a place must have affected the mind to some extent, for it seems like leaving the world altogether for a time and bidding farewell to everything which we have been in the habit of enjoying and thinking beautiful. No one ever thought of accusing Admiral Bell of being very imaginative, but upon this occasion, although he was first to speak, what he did say showed that he had felt some of those sensations to which we have alluded. How do you feel, Henry? he said. I'll be hanged if I don't seem as if I were going into my grave before my time. And I, too, said Henry, but I rather like the solemn feeling which such a place as this inspires. Gentlemen, said the tall footman with the yellow plush, what do you call them? Gentlemen, I think, after all, that I somehow will go back again. I don't seem, actually, in a matter of speaking, to care to catch the Baron somehow. So, if you please, gentlemen, I rather think I'll go back. Why don't you say you were afraid at once, John? said the Admiral. Who, me, sir? I afraid? Oh, dear no, sir. It would take a trifle indeed to frighten me, I rather think. Oh, no, no, sir. You mistake me. It's my feelings. It's my feelings, sir. Why, what the deuce of your feelings to do with it? Everything in the world, sir. Haven't I drank this beer, sir? And haven't I eaten this beef, and his bread, and his Tato, sir? And shall I now hunt him up among his own ice wells? No, perish the thought. Parish the blessed idea. Parish the goodbye, gentlemen. With these words, the chivalrous footman gave up all idea of continuing the chase for Varney the Vampire, and turning quickly, so as to stop the possibility of his hearing any further remonstrance, he went from the place with great speed. Still, however, with the departure of this individual, whose courage from the first had had about it a very suspicious color, they were in a quite sufficient strength to have accomplished the capture of the Vampire, if they could get hold of him, and always provided he was not sufficiently armed with powers of mischief to their number, by taking perchance the life of some one of them. There was one circumstance connected with a search for anybody in that strange region which spoke much in favor of a successful result, and that was that the passage was narrow, and that there were no hiding places except the ice wells to explore which, at all, events could not be a very difficult task, and as they proceeded, they felt certain that they must be driving Varney before them. Before they had got very far, Henry Bannerworth thought it would be advisable to announce to Varney that precise intentions of himself and the Admiral always provided he were equally peaceably inclined and within hearing of what was said to him. He accordingly raised his voice, inquiring, Sir Francis Varney, you no doubt recognized by my tones that it is Henry Bannerworth who speaks to you, and therefore you may feel convinced that no harm has intended you, but you are employed to come forth and meet your friends who, from former circumstances, you ought to know you can trust. There was no reply whatever to this appeal, and when the echoes of Henry's voice had died away, the same deathlike stillness reigned in the place that had before characterized it. He will not answer, said the Admiral, and yet, if the other end of this passage be guarded as it is said to be, he must be here. Let us come on at once. I have no wish of my own to stay in this damp, chalky hole a moment longer than may be absolutely necessary. Nor I remarked Henry, so let us proceed, and it will be necessary that we keep an accurate watch upon our progress, for I am told that there are ice wells here of great depth, down which you may fall and come by an awful death when you least expect, unless you are very cautious in looking where you tread. There is no doubt of that, sir, said one of his guests. This place is considered to be one of the most curious that Andebury can boast of, and I have been told that there are ice houses in which all kinds of provisions may be kept with ease and safety in the most violent heat of the summer months. After a few moments they came upon one of the ice wells, which yawned terrifically before them, and had they not been very careful and watchful upon the occasion, one or more of them might have been precipitated down the well, and the loss of life must have been the result. I scarcely think, said Henry, that ordinary caution can be used in the construction of these places, or they never would have been left in such a state as they are now in. The ice well you perceive lies directly in the very pathway. Yes, said the Admiral, it does seem so, Master Henry, but if you look a little closer you will perceive that at one time there has been a wooden bridge exactly over this chasm. Ah, I do indeed now perceive such as been the case. Yes, and that made the place both safe and convenient. For no doubt there was a means of lowering down any baskets of wine or other matters that required a low temperature. The Admiral was perfectly right in his supposition, for that was just the way in which the ice wells of Andebury House were constructed, and now, since the bridge had been broken down, there was but a very narrow pathway indeed by which the well could be passed, unless it was jumped over, which might be done by any active person. They could not pass this ice well without an examination of it, and that was accomplished by lying down upon the rough pathway of the passage and holding a light at arm's length down it when the bottom was clearly visible. He is not there, said Henry, who was the person who made the experiment. He is not there, so we must pass on. They accordingly did so until they came to another such ice well, and then the guest which had shown such eagerness in the chase, and accompanied them so far, went through the process of stooping down the chasm to ascertain if it contained anything unusual beyond the debris of broken bottles, old flint stones, etc., which might fairly be expected to be there. Do you see anything, inquired Henry, as the guests seemed to be looking very intently over the precipice? He was about to reply something, for some sound came from his lips, when he suddenly, as if he had been impelled to do so by some unseen power, toppled over the edge and disappeared, torchinal, into the abyss below. Good God! cried Henry, he has fallen! Good night! said the Admiral with characteristic coolness. I suspect, my friend, that your career is at an end. Listen! For God's sake, listen! cried Henry. Does he speak? There was a strange scuffling noise and then a low deep groan from the bottom of the ice pit, and then all was still, and from the character of the sound Henry was of opinion that this well was of much greater depth than the former one, which he had so successfully examined. He has met with his death, said Henry. Don't be too sure, said the Admiral. We must have a good stout rope, and somebody must go down. If nobody likes the job, I will go myself. If ropes are wanted, said one of the other two persons who were present, I can show you where they may be found, for I was at the inquest of the body of the man who was found dead in this place some time ago, and I marked that the ropes, by which his body had been got out of one of the ice walls, were left where they had been used. That then, said the other, is further on, and nearer the beach. Yes, lend me the light, and I will get the rope as quickly as I can, for I don't think, as well as I can remember, that there is another well between this one and that which is near the beach entrance. This was done, and for a few moments Henry and the Admiral were left in the darkness, while the ropes were being searched for. It was a darkness, so total and complete, that it did indeed seem like that darkness which it requires but a little stretch of the imagination to fancy it can be felt. Henry, said the Admiral. Henry! Yes, I am here. Were you ever in such a confounded dark hole in all your life? Scarcely, I think, ever. It is certainly tremendous, and it is a grievous thing to think that a life had been sacrificed, as it no doubt has, in this adventure. Ah, well, we must all go to Davy Jones's locker some day. You, but don't lay hold of me so. I lay hold of you, I am not near you, sir. Damn it! Who is it then? Somebody has got a hold of me as if I were in a vice. Stand off, I say! Who are you? Varney the Vampire, said a deep, sepulchral voice, who warns you and all others that there is abundance of danger in visiting here and nothing to be gained. Almost as these words were spoken, Henry suddenly found himself world round with such force that it was only by a great effort that he succeeded in keeping his feet, and he felt convinced that someone had passed him. Who could that one be but, sir Francis Varney, the much-dreaded vampire? In the next moment the light glanced upon the walls of the subterranean passage, and the Admiral cried, He has escaped unless someone stops him above, but let us think of nothing else at present but to find out if the poor fellow who fell down here be alive or dead. Henry descended by the assistance of the ropes, and found the adventurous guest quite dead. They raised the body from the well, and conveying it as best they could, among them, they arrived, after some troubles on account of their burden, in the gardens, and finally in the great hall of Anterbury House, on a table in which they laid the corpse. It was quite evident now to the Admiral and to the Bannerworths that Varney had escaped, so they could have no desire to remain at the house, over which Mr. Leek was running like a madman, wondering what he should do. Flora had invited Helen Williams to accompany her to the inn, so that the whole party of the Bannerworths went away together, with the one addition to it of that poor girl who had so narrow an escape of becoming the vampire's bride. Horrible destiny. Varney the Vampire, Vol. 2, by Thomas Prescott Prest Chapter 122 Mrs. Williams visits the Bannerworths at the inn, the marriage of James Anderson with Helen. Let us fancy now, after all these singular circumstances had taken place, the Bannerworth family, with James Anderson and Helen Williams, seated in a comfortable room at the inn at Anterbury, where they had put up when they came to that place, in pursuance of the invitation they had received from Mrs. Williams. And that lady, probably could she have foreseen what was about to occur, would have taken most as special pains to prevent such an invitation from ever reaching such a destination. But she had fallen a victim to her own love of display, and not being content with inviting people whom she did know, she must forsooth give them a carte blanche to bring with them people whom she did not know at all. And this it was that she had been horrified by what had taken place, and had had all her brightest visions of the future leveled with the dust. When Jack Pringle told Mrs. Williams that he believed she would quite willingly have sold her daughter to a vampire, he was right. For she would have done so, always provided that the vampire, as aforesaid, had a good property, and was able to convince her of that most important fact. The only person of all the little party that was assembled at the inn, who looked pale and anxious, was poor Helen, and she certainly did look so, for when we come to consider her novel position we shall not wonder at it. She had thrown herself completely upon the consideration of strangers, and was severed from all those natural ties which ought to have forever held her in their gentle bondage. But this conduct, or rather the conduct of that one who ought to have protected her through all trouble and anxieties, her mother, had been such as to deprive her of the feeling that she had a home at all. Flora saw that her guest, as indeed she considered Helen, looked sad and dejected, and she made every effort within her power to rescue her from such a state of things. Do not despair of much happiness, she whispered to her, but rather thank good fortune, which, at the last moment, rescued you from one whom you could not love. Be assured that now you will enjoy the protection of those who will soon be able to prevail upon your mother to look with a favorable eye upon any new arrangement. I am very much beholden to you, said Helen, very much beholden to you, and I feel that I ought to congratulate myself upon my escape. But my heart does feel sad, because the state of things to avoid which I made myself a sacrifice may now ensue in all their terrors. My dear, said the Admiral, who overheard her, don't you believe any such rubbish as all that? I have no doubt you have been regularly persecuted into the match with the supposed Baron, and you would perhaps have found out afterwards that one half of the things you were told to induce you to consent had no foundation but in somebody's active imagination. Do you think so, sir? Do I think so? To be sure I do. Now, I daresay you were told how, if you married the Baron, what's his name, you would be doing something wonderful for all your family. Yes, yes. Oh, of course, I can see through all that clearly enough, and I tell you, my lass, that you have had a most fortunate escape, and that there is and shall be no reason on the face of the earth why you should not be married to the man of your choice. He has been to sea, and so, of course, he has finished what may be called his education. If he had been on shore all his life, you might have doubted about the prudence of having him, but as it is, it's quite another matter. Sir, I thank you for your kind advocacy of my cause, said James Anderson, and I shall ever consider, as one of the most fortunate accidents of my life, the meeting with Admiral Bell. Oh, don't say anything about that. I know some of the people at the Admiralty, and when you go to make the report of how you have been shipwrecked and how you lost your dispatches, I will give you a letter of introduction which, I daresay, won't do you any harm. Indeed, sir, this is more kindness than I ought to expect. Not at all, my boy, not at all. Don't put yourself out of the way about it. Only I tell you what I would do. You need not take my advice in unless you like, but if I were you, I'd be hanged if I moved an inch anywhere till I made Helen Williams my wife. Can you suppose, cried James Anderson, while his eyes sparkled with delight, can you suppose, my dear sir, that such advice could be other than most welcome to me? And what do you say, Helen, to it? whispered Flora. What can I say? You can say yes, I suppose, said the Admiral. Helen was silent. Very good, added the Admiral. When a girl doesn't say no, of course she means yes. And you can make sure of your prize now you have got her, Master Anderson. Let's see. You manage these affairs with what you call a special license, don't you? Yes, uncle, said Flora. That is the way. You seem to know all about it, and I almost suspect you really must have had some experience in these matters. I experience you little gypsy. What do you mean? I never was married in all my life, and I don't intend to be. Don't make too sure, uncle, but despite all that, no one could more warmly second your advice to Mr. Anderson than myself. Very good. For that speech, I forgive you. And now Mr. Anderson, just come along with me, for I want to say a few words to you which nobody else has anything to do with. When the Admiral got James Anderson alone, he said to him, Of course you are without funds, so it's no use making any fuss of delicacy about it. I have no doubt but that, with my interest, I shall be able to get you into an appointment of some sort. But in the meantime, I beg that you will not cross me in my desire to serve you. In mind, I take your word of honor to repay me, so you see, there is no obligation. Sir, this noble generosity, there there, that's quite enough. For the fact is, it ain't noble generosity at all, so hold your tongue about it, and be so good as to let me consider that as settled. Here are fifty pounds for you, which will enable you to go to London like a gentleman, and to conduct your marriage either here or there, as you may yourself think proper, and as your bride may consent. Sir, I would fain make hell on my own here. Very good. I don't pretend to understand how to manage these things, but set about it as quickly as you can, and don't be deterred by anybody. This short, but too James Anderson deeply interesting conversation, because it relieved his mind from a load of anxiety, took place a few paces from the indoor only, so that they returned at once, but scarcely had they joined the rest of the party, and were considering what they should order for dinner, when one of the waiters of the establishment came to say, If you please, there's a lady who wants to come in. I asked her her name, but she won't give it, but she says she must see everybody. The deuce she must, cried the admiral. What sort of a craft is she? Sort of a what, sir? My fears tell me, sobbed Helen, that it is my mother. The admiral whistled, and then he said, I suppose we shall have a breeze, but the sooner it's over the better. Let the lady come in, and don't you be afraid of anything, my lass, while you look as pale as if you expected? Here she is. The door was flung open, and Mrs. Williams made her appearance. Anger was upon her face, and it required but a small amount of penetration to perceive that she came fully charged with all sorts of reproaches. Helen trembled and shrunk back, for she had an habitual fear of her mother, which the imperious conduct of that individual had induced in the mind of so gentle a creature as Helen from her very childhood. Well, madam, said Henry, stepping forward. To what are we indebted for the honor of this visit from one who has not the courtesy to wait for an invitation? Oh, I expected this, said Mrs. Williams, with a shivering toss of her head. I quite expected this, I can assure you, of course, but I'll pretty soon let you know, sir, what I came about. I have come for my daughter, sir, what have you to say against that? Nothing, madam, if your daughter chooses to comply with your request. Helen, screamed Mrs. Williams. Helen, I command you to come home this moment. Mother, hear me, said Helen. Consent to my happiness with one whom I can love, with the same readiness that you would have seen me the bride of one for whom I never could hope to feel anything in the shape of affection, and I will accompany you home at once. Oh, dear, yes, of course, consent to ruin, consent to nonsense, consent to your marrying escape grace, who cannot even keep himself, far less a wife. No, Helen, you cannot expect that I should ever consent to your marrying such a poor wretch. But don't you think, said Henry, that any poor wretch is better than a vampire? No, I do not. Oh, very good, then, said the Admiral. If that's the lady's opinion, what can we say to her? And as for commanding Miss Helen here to go home, I command her to stay. You command her? Yes, to be sure. Ain't I an Admiral? What have you got to say against that? I should like to know. I shall take good care that James Anderson is no poor wretch by getting him some good appointment. And as your daughter is of age, old girl, and so can choose for herself, you may as well weigh anchor and be off at once, for nobody wants to be bothered with you. Do you mean to say that you are a real Admiral and have nothing to do with the horse marines? Nothing whatever, ma'am. Good day to you. We are all waiting for our dinners and don't feel disposed to talk anymore, so be off with you. Mrs. Williams seemed to be considering for a moment, and then she said, Oh gracious, a mother's feelings must always be excused. I almost think that, just to please you, Admiral, I will consent. You will, mother, exclaimed Helen. Why, in a manner of speaking, said Mrs. Williams, I should not mind, but it's quite you see a dreadful thing to think of when we consider what an expense I have gone to in all these matters, and that I have not had so much as one farthing from the Baron, although he did say he would pay all the cost I might be put to. From resources which, in course of time, industry may procure me, said James Anderson eagerly, you shall be repaid all that you can possibly say has been expended for Helen. Ah, well then, if Admiral Bell here will say that he will see me paid, I consent. Very well, said the Admiral, I'll say you paid. If you had acted generously in the matter, you should have been a gainer, but as it is you shall be paid, and we decline your acquaintance. Mrs. Williams began, from the tone and manner of her daughter's new friends, to suspect that it would have been more prudent on her part if she had behaved in a very different manner towards them, and complied with a good grace with their wishes, for, as regarded the Baron, anything in the shape of a more extended connection with him was clearly out of the question. But she had gone almost too far for reconciliation, and although there was no such thing as denying the genius of the lady, she was, for a few moments, puzzled to know what to do. At length, however, she thought it would not be a bad plan to be suddenly quite overcome with her feelings and make a desperate scene. Accordingly, to the surprise of everyone, and the consternation of the Admiral, she suddenly uttered a piercing scream and commenced a good exhibition of hysterics. Damn it, cried the Admiral, what does she mean by that? Come, come, I say, Mother Williams, we cannot stand all that noise, you know, it is quite out of the question. Let us all leave the room, said Henry, and send Jack Pringle to her. I have heard him say that he has some mode of recovering ladies from hysterics by throwing a pailful of salt water over them, and then biting their thumbnails off. The wretch, exclaimed Mrs. Williams, suddenly recovering. The wretch! I'd let him know soon enough what it was to interfere with my nails. Oh, you are better, are you? said the Admiral. What's that to you, shrieked Mrs. Williams? I'll go at once to a lawyer and see what can be done with you. I look upon you all with odium and contempt. Ah, words easily spoken, said the Admiral, and just like the young chickens, they commonly go home to roost. Mrs. Williams darted an angry look at the whole party, which she intended should be expressive at once, of the immense contempt in which she held them, and of her determination to have vengeance upon their heads, which double-dealing look, however, had no effect upon them of an intimidating character, and then she bounced from the room. My dear, said the Admiral, turning to Helen, who he saw was affected at the proceeding. My dear, don't you fret yourself, your mother cannot make us angry, and as far as regards her own anger, it will all subside, and then we will forget that she has said anything at all uncivil to us. So don't you fret yourself about what is of no consequence at all. You may depend, said Henry, that such will be the fact, and that in a very short time you will find that your mother has completely recovered from her anger, and will be as pleasant with us all as possible. I grieve to say so to you, but the fact is, what you must perceive, namely, that as regards your mother, your marriage is merely a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence, and when she finds that the baron's fortune cannot be had, she will content herself with reflecting upon the prospects of Mr. James Anderson, who, if he do well, will soon be quite a favorite. It was humiliating to poor Helen to be forced to confess that this was the correct view to take of the question, but she could not help doing so at all, and after a time she did not regret having sufficient moral courage to resist the command of her mother's to return home. In the society of him whom she loved, end up held and encouraged too as she was by Flora, who was just about the best and kindest companion such a person as Helen could have had, the minutes began to fly past upon rosy pinions, and the remainder of that day she confessed, even to the admiral, was the happiest she had known for many a weary month. The Bannerworths and James Anderson fully expected another visit from Mrs. Williams on the morrow, but she did not come, and although they had expected her to do so, her not coming was no disappointment, but, on the contrary, a matter for some congratulation. But no time was lost, and as James Anderson was really most anxious to get to London, to report himself at the admiralty, and as that was an anxiety in which the admiral much encouraged him, so that as it was quite an understood thing among them all, that the marriage of the fair Helen should take place before he again left her, a special license was procured, and the ceremony arranged to take place at nine o'clock in the morning, on the second morning after the strange and exciting occurrences at the Annabarie House. This marriage was conducted in the most private manner possible, because, as it had been so well known throughout the whole of Annabarie, that Helen Williams was the chosen of the great and rich Baron Stolmure of Salzburg, who had turned out to be such an equivocal character. The news of her marriage with anyone else would have been sure to have created a vast amount of public curiosity. All this they escaped by fixing the hour at which the ceremony was to be performed at an early hour in the morning, and trusting no one out of their own party with the secret. Of course, from what the reader knows of the gentle and timid disposition of Helen Williams, he may well suppose how glad she would have been to have had the countenance of her mother at her marriage. Notwithstanding the conduct of that mother was certainly not what should have entitled her to the esteem of anyone whatever, not accepting her own child. But this was a feeling which, when she came to consider the new tie she was forming, was likely soon to wear away, and although, while she pronounced those words which were irrevocably to make her another's, the tears gushed to her eyes. They were far different from those bitter drops she had shed when they considered that, beyond all hope of redemption, she was condemned to become the bride of the Baron. When the ceremony was over they all went back very quietly and comfortably to the inn, and after a good breakfast, and many healths had been drank to the bride, James Anderson, according to arrangement, took his departure for London, leaving Helen in the care of the Bannerworths until he should come back to claim her, as he now could do, despite all the plots and machinations of Mrs. Williams, who, as yet, was in a state of blessed ignorance as to the fact of her daughter's wedding, and who had not quite made up her mind as to what she should do next in so delicate and troublesome a transaction. Red by Richard Wallace. Liberty, Missouri. 1 May 2009. Mrs. Williams, when she reached home after what must be called her very unsuccessful attempt to make a disturbance, and to do the grand at the inn where the Bannerworths were, set herself seriously to think what would be the best course for her to adopt in the rather perplexing aspect of her affairs. The few words she had used at the inn, indicative of her censure of all the proceedings, had been of rather a strong and energetic character, so that she had a very uncomfortable suspicion upon her mind that she would find it rather a difficult task to pacify her daughter's new friends. The offer which the admiral had made to repay to her any expense she had been at, impressed her with a belief that he surely must be in possession of what, to her, was the most delightful thing in the world, and comprehended all sorts of virtue, namely, money. And, of course, her feelings became instantly most wonderfully ameliorated. I am very much afraid I have been too precipitant, she said. I really am afraid I have, and that ain't a pleasant reflection by any means. What can I do to get good friends with them all, and particularly the dear old gentleman who promised to pay me? This was the problem which Mrs. Williams presented to her mind, for the captivating idea of actually having been paid five hundred pounds by the baron, and thus sending in a bill of the same amount to the admiral, took wonderful and complete possession of her. This was, indeed, she considered, a master stroke of policy, and all she had now to consider was the means of getting on such good terms with the admiral that he should neither question items nor amount of the account she intended to send him in. If he only pays the five hundred pounds as well as the baron has paid his, I shall not come out of the transaction so badly, said Mrs. Williams. While she was in the state of perplexity, she was sitting by the window of her dining-room, which commanded a view of the street, and, as she sat there, she was much surprised to see Jack Pringle, who she still had a lingering suspicion might, notwithstanding his disclaimer of the title, be admiral Green, on the other side of the way, making various significant movements of his hands and head, as if he had something of an exceedingly secret and strange mysterious nature to communicate to her, Mrs. Williams. This was quite sufficient to call for that lady's most serious attention, and accordingly she walked graciously so close to the window that her aristocratic nose touched the glass, and nodded to Jack, after which she beckoned him across the way, after the manner of the ghost in Hamlet, upon which Jack, with a nod, came across the way forthwith. In another moment Mrs. Williams opened the street door herself and said, Mr. What's your name? Have you got anything to say to me? Rather, said Jack, what is it, then? Pray, what is it, Mr. What's your name? Don't call me What's your name, ma'am, any longer. My name is Jack Pringle. Mr. John Pringle, I suppose? No such thing, nothing but plain Jack, ma'am, so you see you are mistaken, but I have got something to say to you, ma'am, as you ought to know. Anyone who had known Jack would have seen, by a certain mischievous twinkling of the eyes, that he had on hand what he considered one of the most excellent of jokes in all the world, and was about to perpetrate what he thought some famous piece of jollity, what it was we shall quickly perceive from his communication with Mrs. Williams. Well, ma'am, he added, you know Admiral Bell, I believe? Oh, yes, yes, certainly I do. Well, I don't know as I ought to tell you, Mrs. W., what I am going to tell you, but first of all, the old Admiral, what with prize money, pay, and one thing and another, is so immensely rich that he really don't know what to do with his money. How dreadful, said Mrs. Williams, I think I could really suggest to him some few things to do. Oh, he is so desperately obstinate he will listen to nobody, and you see, as he never married, who has he got to leave it to? At least that's what we have been all wondering, for I don't know how long. But now, what do you think we have found out, Mrs. Williams? Well, that's very difficult, of course, for me to say. Perhaps you will be so good as to tell me. You ought to know, he has fallen in love, ma'am, actually in love for the first time in his life. Yes, he has actually fallen in love, Mrs. Williams, there's a go. And with one of my daughters, it's with Julia, I did mention her to him, and I thought I saw a curious expression come across his face. Of course, I'm quite delighted to hear it, for with the feelings of a mother, I like to get my girls off hand as well as I can, and as Admiral Bell is so very respectable a person, I can have no sort of objection in the world. There you go again, said Jack. You are quite mistaken, I can tell you. You never made a greater blunder than that in all your life, Mother Williams. Excuse me, ma'am, but that's my way. Oh, don't mention it. But where's the mistake, my dear sir? Why, just hear, ma'am, just hear. The Admiral is not so young as he was 25 years ago, and he ain't quite such a fool as to think that a young girl can care anything for him. But he is in love for all that. Only, you see, ma'am, it happens to be with somebody else. Good gracious, who is it, and why do you come to me about it? Because it's you. Me. Me. Oh, gracious Providence, you don't mean that. In love with me, the rich old Admiral. He cannot live long. How much money take it all together, do you really think he has got? I declare you have taken me so by surprise that I don't know what I am saying. Of course, he will propose a very handsome settlement. You may depend upon all that, said Jack. But the odd thing is, you see, ma'am, that although he is quite overhead and ears in love, he won't own it, but walks about like a bear with a bad place on his back doing nothing but growl growl from morning till night. Then how can you tell, said Mrs. Williams, if he never said so? Oh, he does say so. He mumbles it out to himself, and we have heard him say, damn it all, that Mrs. Williams is the craft for my money, but what's the use of me bothering her about it? She wouldn't have an old hulk like me, so I won't say anything about it to anybody. What an amiable idea. Very, ma'am, very. And what I have come to you for now is to say that if you have no objection to the match, you might as well make the old man happy by letting him know in some sort of way that you wouldn't be so hard-hearted as he thinks, but would have him if he would say the word. How can I express how obliged I am to you, Mr. Wingle? Pringle, if you please, ma'am, is my name, and as to being obliged to me, you ain't it all, and I'll tell you how. You see, I and the admiral have sailed with each other for many a voyage, and I have a sort of feeling for the old man that makes me. When I see that he has a fancy, try my best to gratify him. And without thinking of anybody but him, I've come to you just to tell you what I know about the affair, and I must leave it to you to do what you like. Still, I am very much obliged to you. What if I were to call and ask for a private interview with the old man? A good idea, said Jack. It was only the other day I heard him say you was his pearl, and the main chain of his heart I can tell you, and ever such a load more. He will be taking his dinner at four today, and after that he usually takes a sleep in an arm chair in a room by himself, and if you like to come then you will catch him. Be assured, my dear sir, I shall be there punctually to the minute. You will be so good as to receive me and introduce me to him, and perhaps it would remove some of his timidity if I were to let him know that I was aware that he called me his pearl and the main chain of his heart. Of course it would, said Jack. You put him in mind of it, ma'am, and if you find him backward a little, don't you mind about giving him a little encouragement, because you know all the while he really means it, so you need not care about it. Well, Mr. Bingle, all I can say is that I feel very much obliged to you indeed for letting me know this matter, and my great respect for you and for the old admiral will I assure you induce me to consent to what you propose. Ahem! Of course I have many offers as you may well suppose, Mr. Kringle. Damn it, said Jack. I've told you before that my name is Pringle, and if you can't recollect that, just call me Jack and have done with it. You won't forget Jack, I'll be bound. Call me that, and I shan't quarrel with you about it, ma'am, but don't be inventing all sorts of odd names for me. Pray excuse me, my dear sir, I certainly will do no such thing, and at three o'clock I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you. I believe it's the red lion where you are staying. Yes, the red lion in, and at three I shall be on the lookout for you, ma'am, you may depend, and I only hope you won't mistake the admiral's bashfulness for anything else, because I assure you he is mad in love with you, but won't like to own it, ma'am, so just you bring him out a little, and don't you mind what he says. Mrs. Williams duly promised she would not mind what the old man said, and, from what we know of that lady, we are quite inclined, for once in a way, to give her credit for sincerity in that matter, and the greatest possible amount of candor. As for Jack, when he left her house and had got fairly round the corner and out of sight, he laughed to that excess that several passers-by stopped to look at him in wonder, and had he not ceased he certainly would have had a crowd around him in a very few minutes longer that would have perhaps thought him out of his senses. But after a few minutes the explosion of his bottled-up mirth had subsided, and after giving a boy, who was nearest to him, of the admiring spectators, a good rap on the head, he walked to the inn. Jack would have been glad to have told someone of the capital joke he was playing off at the admiral's expense, but he was afraid of being betrayed, so he wisely kept the secret of the forthcoming jest all to himself, although Henry Bannerworth and Charles Holland might both, after such a thing happened, or even during its progress, have a good laugh at it, it is not to be supposed, entertaining as they did so great a respect for the old admiral, that they would have lent themselves to the perpetration of such a joke. As may be supposed, Mrs. Williams was all flutter and expectation, and the idea of it length-mending her decayed fortune by an union with the old man, who was reported to be immensely rich, and who had already reached an age when his life could not be depended upon one week from another, was one of the most gratifying circumstances on record to her. No possible plan could have been devised, which was so likely to chime in with her humour as this, and if she had been asked in which way she would like to make money, it would have been that which she would have undoubtedly chosen. Now, she thought, I shall, after all, make an admirable thing of this affair, there can be no doubt. I shall, of course, soon be a widow again, for the old sea-monster cannot live long. I shall insist upon a very liberal settlement indeed, and then I suppose, while he does live, I must keep him in good humour, so that he may leave me at all events the bulk of his property when he dies, and then I can live in the style I like and make everybody die of envy. To excite an extraordinary amount of envy was the very height of felicity to Mrs. Williams, as indeed it is to many people of far greater pretensions than that lady. And we cannot help thinking, when we see gaudy equipages and all the glittering and costly paraphernalia of parvenu wealth, that the great object of it is to excite envy far more than admiration and pleasure. There are the narrowedges and the staples and the Jenkinses, thought Mrs. Williams. Oh, I know they will all be ready to eat their very heads off when they hear that I am married, and that, too, so well. Oh, they will die of spite, and particularly Mrs. Jenkins. I am quite sure she will have a serious illness. These were the kind of triumphs upon which Mrs. Williams felicitated herself and pictured to her imagination as the result of her marriage with the admiral, which she now looked upon as quite a settled thing, because if he were willing she felt perfectly sure that she was, and therefore what was to prevent the union from taking place. What pleasant anticipations these were. Really, we can almost consider them, while they lasted, as sufficient to counterbalance any disappointment which was likely afterwards to take place. And the hour or two which Mrs. Williams devoted to the gorgeous dream of wealth she so fully expected to enjoy were probably the most delightful she had ever passed. And certainly, so far she had to thank Jack Pringle for giving her so much satisfaction, although, as will be seen, she did not feel towards him any great amount of gratitude on the momentous occasion. Mrs. Williams, no doubt, still thought herself quite a fascinating woman, and when she had failed in guessing that it was to herself that the admiral was, according to Jack's account, devoted, it was not that she entertained a modest and quiet opinion of her own attractions, but from the force of habit, seeing that so long a period had elapsed without her having an admirer, that she could not believe she had one then until actually assured in plain language of the fact. And now, about half an hour before the appointed time, the lady arrayed herself in what she considered an extremely becoming and fashionable costume, and started to keep her appointment with Jack Pringle, who, in her affections, now held quite a pleasant place, and towards whom she considered herself so much indebted for the kind information she had received at his hands. The distance from any house in Anderbury to any other was but short, so that Mrs. Williams was within the time mentioned when she reached the door of the red lion, but she was gratified to find that Jack Pringle was there, apparently on the lookout for her, because it showed that nothing had happened to alter the aspect of affairs, but that the chances of her becoming Mrs. Admiral Bell were as strong as ever. I'm glad you have come, said Jack. They got over dinner rather quick, and that's a fact, and the old man is fast asleep as usual, so you can commence operations at once. A thousand thanks, a thousand thanks, my good friend, and you may depend upon my gratitude. Hush, never mind that, said Jack. I don't want nothing. This way, this way, ma'am, if you please. CHAPTER 123 Chapter 26, which immediately follows Chapter 123 of Varni the Vampire, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Varni the Vampire, Volume 2 by Thomas Prescott-Prest. Note, chapters 124 and 125 do not exist in the text. Chapter 126. The Admiral in a Breeze, a General Commotion, and Jack Pringle much wanted but not to be found. To say that Mrs. Williams was on the tiptoe of expectation is to say very little that can convey a good idea of what was her real condition, nervously speaking, as she followed Jack Pringle up, not the principal, but a back-steer case of the inn toward the room where the admiral took his nap, which was his custom always of an afternoon. The fact is that Jack had a great dread of Mrs. Williams being seen by any of the Bannerworth family because they all knew her, and the nice little plot that he had got up for the purpose of holding out the admiral to ridicule, while at the same time he enjoyed the immense satisfaction of having some revenge upon Mrs. Williams. Hence was it that, like many a great politician, he went up the back-steer case instead of the front in order to avoid the unnecessary observation and remark. By good fortune, as well as good management, Jack met nobody but succeeded in reaching the room door within which the admiral was sleeping in perfect safety. Now, ma'am, said Jack, don't you be backward about going forward, because, as I tell you, the old man is dying by inches for you, and I don't see why you shouldn't have his half a million of money as well as anybody else. Ah, and a good deal better, too, when one comes to consider all things. Thank you, Mr. Pringle, thank you. I really don't know how to express my obligations to you upon my word. You are so very kind and considerate in all you say. Oh, don't mention it, ma'am. Walk in, and there you will find the old baby. I shouldn't wonder but he's disturbing his old brains by dreaming of you now. Jack opened the door, and Mrs. Williams glided noiselessly into the apartment, where, seated, sure enough, in an easy chair, with a silk handkerchief over his face, sat the admiral, fast asleep, enjoying that comfortable siesta which he never, for one moment, imagined would be disturbed in the manner it was about to be. Well, said Mrs. Williams, there he is to be sure, just as Jack Pringle said, asleep, and no doubt dreaming of me. I must make sure of the old fool in one interview, or he may slip through my fingers, and that would not be at all pleasant after counting upon him and taking some trouble on the matter. But although she made up her mind that nothing should be wanting upon her part to make sure of him, yet she debated whether she ought to awaken him or not, for she well knew that many old people, especially men, were very irascible if they are awakened suddenly, and from what she had already seen of the admiral, she could very well imagine that such might be the case with him. This was getting rather equandary, out of which Mrs. Williams did not exactly see her way, and yet the proposition that the admiral was to be, and must be, awakened in some way, remained as firmly as ever fixed in her mind. And then, too, the idea, a very natural one under the circumstances, came across her that each minute was fraught with danger, and that, for all she knew, the yay or nay of the whole affair might depend upon the promptitude with which it was concluded. What if, she asked herself, some of the odious Bannerworth people were to come in and find her there? Of course they would awaken the admiral at once, and in consequence of their presence, she would lose all opportunity of exercising those little blandishments which she meant to bring to bear upon him. This was positively alarming. The idea of all being lost prompted her at all events to attempt something, so Mrs. Williams thought that the mildest way of awakening the admiral was by a loud sneeze, which she executed without producing the least effect as might have been expected. For the man who had many a time slept soundly in the wildest fury of the elements was not likely to awaken because somebody sneezed. Dear me, how sound he sleeps! The admiral was proof against all this, and Mrs. Williams might just as well have spared herself the trouble of exciting such an amount of artificial sneezes, for the admiral slept on, and it was quite clear that something much more sonorous would be required for the purpose of awakening him. How vexatious, she thought! How very vexatious! But there's no help for it. Awakened he must be, that's quite clear, and if fair means won't do it, why, follow must. Acting upon this resolve, Mrs. Williams hesitated no longer, but, approaching the sleeping admiral, she dragged the handkerchief off his face, and its passage over his nose, no doubt, produced the tickling sensation that induced him to give that organ a very hard rub, indeed, and start wide awake with an exclamation that was much more forcible than elegant, and that consequently we need not transfer to our pages at all. Oh, admiral, said Mrs. Williams, assuming a look that ought at once to have melted a heart of stone. Oh, admiral, can you indeed forgive me? The devil, said the admiral. Can you indeed look over the fact that in my anxiety to see that face I took from before it the envious and yet fortunate handkerchief that covered it? It was my act, and upon my head fall all the censure, my dear good-kind admiral. The old man rubbed his eyes very hard with his knuckles as he said, I suppose I'm awake. You are awake, my dear sir. It is indeed no dream, let me assure you, that disturbs you, but a living reality. You are awake, my dear sir. Why, why, what do you mean? I begin to think I am awake with a vengeance. But who are you? Hang me if I don't think you are Old Mother Williams. Oh, my dear admiral, you are so facetious, so very facetious. But can you for one moment fancy, my dear sir, that I am insensible to your merit? Can you fancy that I could look with other than indulgent eyes upon a bell? Upon a what? A bell, an admiral bell. Indeed, I may say, with a slight but pardonable alteration of a word, an admirable bell. My dear sir, your pearl speaks to you. The admiral was so amazed at this address, accompanied as it was by most languishing looks, that, with his mouth wide open, and his eyes preternaturally distended, he gazed upon Mrs. Williams without saying a word, from which she inferred that he was beginning to see that she was aware of his attachment to her, and was thinking of how he could best express his gratitude for her taking the initiative in the matter. Thus encouraged, then, she spoke again, saying as she advanced close to him, Oh, my dear sir, what a thing the human heart is, only to think now that from the first moment I saw you I should whisper to myself, There, yes, there is the only human being for whose sake I could again enter into that holy state from which the death of Mr. Williams released me. Why, good God, said the admiral, the woman's mad. Oh, no, no, the world, the horrid, low, worker-day world, may make invidious remarks about us, but your pearl will recompense you for all that, and in the sweet concord of domestic life we shall never sigh for more than we shall have, which will be, of course, if I understand rightly a large income. I don't know how much a year, and if I ask it is only out of curiosity, my dear sir, and nothing else. Love, absolute and beautiful love, is all I ask. Hello, ah, roared the admiral. Charles, Henry, Jack, where the devil are you all? Damn it, you are already enough when I don't want you, but now when I am going to be bordered by a mad woman you can't come one of you. Hello, ah, help, Charles, Jack, you lover, where the deuce have you taken yourself to, and why don't you tumble up when you are sent for? But, my dear sir, why need you trouble yourself to call so many witnesses to our happiness? Let us be privately married in some rural church. Privately damned first I'd be, said the old admiral. Oh, then it shall be a public alliance if you wish it, exclaimed Mrs. Williams, as she made up her mind to clinch the affair at once by a coup de main, and advancing to the admiral she flung her arms around his neck, just as a door at the other end of the apartment opened, and Charles and Henry, with flora, made their appearance, and looked with the most intense astonishment at the scene before them. Well, uncle, said Charles, I certainly should not have expected this of you. I am astonished, I must confess. Nor I, said Henry, why, admiral, I had no idea you were so dangerous a personage. Mrs. Williams, when she saw what arrivals had taken place, gave a faint scream, and released the admiral, and then she added, Oh, admiral, how could you hold me so when you hear somebody coming? How shall I ever survive such a scene as this? My character will be gone for ever, unless I am immediately married to you, and I have no doubt but that all your friends will at once see the propriety of such a step. I do, said Charles, and I, said Henry, and I, of course, said flora. Mrs. Williams burst into tears when she saw this unanimity of opinion, but the admiral's face got the color of a piece of beetroot, and he was only silent for a moment or two while he was made the subject of these cruel remarks, until he could sufficiently recover to speak with the energy that did characterize him when he really began. We are not exactly in the vein to transfer to our pages the violent expletives with which he garnished his outburst of passion, and our readers, if they recall to their minds a large amount of nautical oaths, can have no difficulty in supposing that the admiral uttered every one of them with a volubility that was perfectly alarming. Damn it! Do you mean to kill me, all of you, or to drive me mad? Five oaths in a string came in here. Do you want to cut me up, you three horrible epithets? What do you mean by setting this old woman upon me, whose precious idea was this I should like to know, to put an elderly she-dragon upon me, whom I hate and be ten oaths at least, when I was enjoying a comfortable nap? Hate, exclaimed Mrs. Williams, did you say hate, you old seducing villain, when you knew you said I was your pearl, you hoary-headed ruffian? That's a thundering crammer, cried the admiral. You said it yourself, and as for hating you, damn it, if I don't do that with all my heart. And this is the way I am to be treated before people? Oh, you wicked old sinner, I understand you now. Your intentions were not honorable, and now you find that my virtue is proof against your horrid old fascinations, you want to pretend that it is all a mistake. Really, said Charles, we must confess, uncle, that we found Mrs. Williams and you rather loving, you know, and the gentleman on these occasions is usually asked to account for such things, I take it. Of course, said Mrs. Williams, I'll bring an action against the admiral, and I shall call upon you all to be witnesses for me. Oh, you old sinner, I'll make you pay for this. We certainly can all be witnesses, said Flora, that the admiral called for help, and when we came in we found Mrs. Williams holding him fast round the neck, to which he seemed to have the greatest possible repugnance. That's right, hurrah, that's the truth, Flora, my dear, that's just how it was. This horrid old woman came all of a sudden and laid hold of me after awakening me, and then I called for help. That's how it was. But these gentlemen, said Mrs. Williams, appealing to Henry and Charles, will swear quite different. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Williams, said Charles, if we are brought forward to swear anything, we must be correct, and therefore we shall have to say just what this lady has stated, and perhaps your best plan will be to go away and say no more about it, but consider that you have made a mistake. A mistake! screamed Mrs. Williams. How could I make a mistake when Mr. John Pringle, who knows the admiral so well, told me that he was dying to see me, and in love with me, to never such an extent, only that he was afraid I would not have anything to say to him on such a subject. The admiral drew a long breath and sat down. Then, clenching his hand, he shook it above his head, saying in a voice of deep and concentrated anger, I thought as much, damn it if I did not, it's all that infernal scoundrel Jack Pringle's doings, I find, it's one of that rubberly, mutinous thief's tricks, and it's the last one he shall ever play me. A trick! screamed Mrs. Williams. A trick! You don't mean that? Ah, me! What compensation shall I get for the dreadful circumstance which has made me confess the secret of my heart? What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do? When shall I hope for consolation? But some of money, even if you, my dear admiral, were to offer it to me, would be a sufficient balm now to my wounded heart. Madam, said Henry, it seems as if you have been imposed upon and made the victim of a practical joke which we, nor the admiral, can have nothing to do with, and the only consolation we can offer to your wounded heart is that we will keep the secret of your attachment most in violet. What compensation is that to me? I'll bring my action for breach of promise of marriage if I don't get something, and that's something very handsome, too. It's all very fine to talk to me about your mistakes. I'll be paid. Ah, and paid well, too, or I'll make the whole country ring again with the matter. Madam, said Charles, I daresay the admiral don't care one straw whether the country rings again or not, and you can do just as you please. But since you have commenced threatening, you will, I hope, see the obvious propriety of it once leaving his place. I will leave this place, but it shall be to go direct to my solicitor, and see what he shall say to a lone woman being treated in this way. I'll swear that he called me his pearl, and if that don't get me a verdict and most exemplary damages, I don't know what will. We shall see what we shall see, and in the meantime you wretches, I'll leave you all to contempt. Yes, contempt. Stop a bit, ma'am, said the admiral. It's quite plain to me that you don't mind how you earn a trifle so that you do get it, and now I'll tell you that if you find out that rascal, Jack Pringle, and give him a good trouncing for his share in the business, you may come to me for a reward. Mrs. Williams, whatever might have been her personal feelings on this head, did not deign to make the least reply to this intimation, but suddenly cried. I want to see my daughter. She's not here at present, said Flora, and if she were, she is Mrs. Anderson now, and therefore would, of course, decline accompanying you to your home, and she is only waiting some arrangements of her husband's prior, most probably, to going to London with him. This speech brought to the recollection of Mrs. Williams that the admiral had promised her all the expenses that she had been at contingent upon the broken-off marriage of her daughter with the baron, and she began to consider that her action for breach of promise of marriage against him might fail, and that, if it succeeded, it might not bring in half so much as the amount of the bill she could by fair means get out of him. These considerations were of great pith and amount, and they had their full effect upon Mrs. Williams. So, instead of bursting out with any further reproaches, she sat down and commenced a softening process by a copious flood of tears which she had always at command. Oh! said the old admiral. You may well cry over it, old girl. I suppose you really thought you had hooked the old man at last, eh? But never do you mind. You may make a good thing of it yet, if you get a hold of that scoundrel Pringle, and serve him out well. I'll pay for that job more willingly than for anything else I know of just at present. Don't speak to me of that brute, my dear sir, sobbed Mrs. Williams. It's a very cruel thing, of course, to be used in this way, and, as it's all a mistake on my part, I hope you will excuse and look after what has happened. I am sure I should be the last person in the world to trouble anybody with visits who did not want to see me, and so, I dare say, we shall only meet once again in this world. Once again, Madam, what is the use of our ever-meeting again? It would look decidedly disrespectful on my part if I were not to hand you the bill myself for the little matters that you were kind enough to say you would pay for, on account of what I had expended on Helen's projected marriage with that vampire baron. You know, Admiral. Oh! ah! I recollect now. Well, well, I don't want to go back from my word, and as I did promise you why I will pay you, but as I don't want on any account the pleasure of your company again, you will be so kind, ma'am, as to take this twenty-pound note and keep the change. This, the Admiral thought liberal enough, for his idea of matrimonial preparations consisted of a new dresser to, or so, and which twenty pounds ought fairly enough to cover, and he thought he would do well enough by overpaying Mrs. Williams as he believed with that amount. When Mrs. Williams recovered from her surprise, not unmingled with indignation, into which this most audacious and, to her, extraordinary offer threw her, she spoke with a kind of scream that made the old Admiral jump again as she shouted in his ears. What? Twenty pounds? Are you in your senses? Twenty pounds! Why, my bill will be at least five hundred pounds! What? roared the Admiral. Are you in your senses? Damn it, ma'am, you may swallow your bill, and you had better do so for all the good that it is likely to do you, for, if I pay a farthing more, may I be hung up on my old yard-arm. Why, you must think that a British Admiral is another name for a fool. Then I'll tell you what, said Mrs. Williams. I'll tell you what you stupid old atrocious sinner. I tell you I will bring my action against you for breach of promise of marriage, and I'll swear that, before your gang of people here came in, who, of course, will swear black is white and white is crimson for you, because I believe you are the father of them all, that you first asked me to live with you, and when I refused, you said you would marry me by special license tomorrow. Madam, said Charles, now that you think proper entirely to forget that you are a lady, allow me to beg of you to retire, because it is quite impossible, after all that has happened, that I should hold any further conversation with you. Yes, Mrs. Williams, said Henry, I hope you will perceive the propriety of it once leaving. At this moment a note was handed to Henry, who upon opening it read aloud, the baron Stolmoyer of Salzburg presents his compliments to Mr. Bannerworth, and begs to state that Mrs. Williams has received from him the sum of five hundred pounds for expenses to be incurred on account of the wedding of her daughter, and he hereby fully empowers Mr. Bannerworth to demand of Mrs. Williams that sum, and to devote it to the service and uses of Mr. James Anderson, of whose existence the baron was not aware when he made his proposal to Mrs. Williams for her daughter, whom she sold to him the baron for that sum. Pillois, cried the admiral, what do you think of that, Mrs. Williams? I don't know what you will say to it, but I know very well that I should consider it a shot between wind and water. I trust, said Henry, that you will now still further see the propriety of leaving here, and of letting this matter completely rest, because it strikes me that the more you investigate it, madam, the more it will turn out greatly to your disadvantage. I don't care a pin's head for any of you, nor half a farthing, cried Mrs. Williams. The baron gave me the money, and he has no power to get it back again, as you know well enough. I'll bring my action, and my principal witness shall be Mr. Pringle, who came to my house, and who, if put upon his oath, will be obliged to swear that it was all a lark, said Jack, popping his head just within the amazingly short distance that he opened the door, and then he disappeared before a word could be said to him. Mrs. Williams, who, notwithstanding all her threats, seemed to have a lingering impression that she was victimized in the transaction, had all the ire of her nature aroused at once by the sight of Jack, and she at once rushed after him, leaving the admiral and the banner-worths not at all lamenting her loss. Jack had no idea that he would be followed by anybody but the admiral, and to distance him he knew there was no occasion to run, so when he had got down to the hall of the hotel he subsided into a walk until he heard a tremendous scuffling of feet behind him, and upon looking round saw Mrs. Williams in full chase, and with an expression upon her countenance which plainly enough indicated that her intentions were not at all of a jocular character. The devil, said Jack, if here ain't Mother Williams coming full sail, and at fourteen knots an hour, too, with a fair wind I'll be bound. Never mind, a stern chase is a long chase, so here goes. As Jack uttered these remarks he dashed onwards at tremendous speed, but the sight of him again had inflamed Mrs. Williams' wrath to madness, and she made the most incredible exertion to come up with him so that it was really wonderful to see her. But Jack, being less encumbered by apparel than the lady, would have distanced her but for an unlucky accident that gave her a temporary mastery. The fates would have it that a baker with a tray upon his head containing sundry pies was coming up the street, and as people do sometimes when they are mutually anxious to pass each other without coming in contact they dodged from side to side for a few seconds, and then of course ran against each other as if they really meant it with such force that down came Jack and Baker and pies in one grand smash. In another moment the enraged Mrs. Williams reached the spot. To snatch up the only whole pie there was left was to the lady the work of a moment, and to reverse it upon Jack's face was the work of another moment, and then in the vindictiveness of her rage she stamped upon the bottom of the dish until his head was embedded in damsons and he was nearly smothered. From the window of the inn the bannerwurst and the admiral saw all this take place, and the delight of the old man was of the most extravagant character exceeding all bounds, while the bannerwurst for the life of them could not help laughing most heartily. Now, you wretch, said Mrs. Williams, I hope this will be a lesson to you, take that and that, and that, you sea snake, you odious tar-barrel! As she spoke she hammered on the dish till it broke, and that was for Jack the best thing that could have happened, for it gave him a little air, and by a frantic effort he scrambled to a sitting posture and commenced dragging the damsons out of his eyes and mouth. Mrs. Williams then thought it was high time to leave, and so muttering threats to the immense amusement of a crowd of persons who had assembled she walked away, leaving Jack by no means delighted with the end of the adventure and to settle with the infuriated baker as best he might. There was no small additional mortification to Jack to look up and see the admiral and the bannerwurst at the window of the hotel, enjoying his discomforture and laughing most heartily at his expense. End of Chapter 126 Chapter 127 of Varni the Vampire, Volume 2. The recent events which followed each other so rapidly were strangely concluded by the sudden and mysterious disappearance of Sir Francis Varni, that he should thus have eluded all was aggravating to a very large class of people who seemed to insist that he should have come to some notable catastrophe. Had he only been killed, they argued, we should have known the last of him. Of the truth of this there could be no doubt, when a man is dead and buried you do, as far as human nature serves, know the end of him. But this great fact does not always come within the knowledge of men, who sometimes, contrary to expectation, drop off themselves and instead of knowing the end of somebody else, why somebody else knows the end of them. It is a well-known fact, that as some die before others, that it does sometimes happen that those who wish to see another out may be seen out themselves. Besides taking the question of longevity aside, it does not follow, because we so wish to come to the conclusion of an affair, that its author may but change the scene and transport it elsewhere, and the good and curious lesions become defrauded of their self-satisfying knowledge vis the end of the affair. Of course it was an aggravation to know that there was an interesting and highly exciting affair gone off, and they were not allowed to peep into that mystery the future, but so it was they were not gratified. Some were of the opinion that he had departed this life in a mysterious and unsatisfactory, because secret manner, and that was why nobody could tell anything about it. But there were other opinions afloat, and among others that of the admiral, which was pretty general, which was that he had very likely disappeared from that part of the world to seek in some other place the renovation his system required, by means that were natural to him, but hideous in others to contemplate or think of. This was generally the received opinion, for it was universally admitted by the wise people thereabouts that he must at certain times recruit himself. The opinion thus entertained by all who lived thereabouts became less and less absorbing, other matters began to be thought of, things began to flow into their usual channel, and a subsidence took place in the turmoil and excitement consequent upon the presence of the vampire. About this period, while these parts were regaining their original serenity and calmness, and while the vampire was looked upon as an awful and fearful episode in the life of those who lived there, there happened in London a circumstance that it is necessary to relate to the reader in as much as it is very important and bears strongly on our story. Not far from Bloomsbury Square, which, at the period of our story, was a very fashionable place, and in one of the first streets thereabout, was the house of a widow, whose name was Meredith. She had been the wife of a man in good circumstances, but at his death she was left with a house filled with furniture, some little loose cash, and several daughters, marriageable and unmarriageable, this being all Mr. Meredith had to leave. There could be but one way of obtaining a living, at least but one that suggested itself to her, which was to turn lodging housekeeper of the better sort. Her children had been well educated, that is, sufficiently so, to pass off in life in decent society without any particular remark. As she was well calculated for the object she had in view, it was no wonder that she succeeded in her undertaking and appeared to do very well. About this time an arrival occurred at a hotel not very far from this spot, which caused a communication to pass to Mrs. Meredith, who had been recommended lodgers from the hotel when any of the inmates desired to be accommodated and wished for a place with all the comforts of a home and domestic attention. Mrs. Meredith said the head waiter of the hotel, I wish to have a word in private with you. With greatest pleasure Mr. Jones, said Mrs. Meredith, who was extremely civil to the waiter, will you be pleased to sit down. I have not the time, I thank you, I have not time, but I have run over to you to inform you we have an old invalid colonel at our place, who seems as if he did not know what he wanted. He wants some kind of lodging, he don't like the hotel, whether there is some genteel family whose kind of tensions would soothe his disorders, and I suppose his temper. Oh, poor gentleman, said Mrs. Meredith, how unfortunate he should suffer! Is he rich? Yes, I believe so, very rich. He's a colonel in the India service. He's been a fine man, but he has had some hard knocks. I have seen more rickety matters than he before today, and he will do very well. I told him I knew where there was a lady who occasionally admitted an inmate to her house, which was a large one, but she must be satisfied that her lodger is a gentleman. Has she any family, he inquired, because I hate to go where there's nobody but the lady of the house, because she can't always attend upon me, read to me in the like of that. Goodness me, what an odd man! Yes, but he pays well, a retired colonel, large fortune. You know that these East Indians expect I don't know what, they are even fed by beautiful young black virgins. Oh, dear no, it's the custom of the country. So you see, he's been humored, and it will be necessary yet to humor him if you mean to have him for your lodger. I expect he'll only be troublesome, but when they pay for trouble, why, it's all profit. Very true, replied Mrs. Meredith. Is he a single man? Yes, oh yes, I believe he has never been married, has had so much to do in India that he had nothing to do with marriages. Where does he come from? India, I believe he had a very fine palace of his own at Putty Therapor, so I am told. Lord, he seems to think nothing of these parts, but he's an odd man, however he pays well, he'll make a good lodger anywhere. Well, you may tell him, Mr. Jones, that we have a fine suite of rooms for his accommodation on the first floor, and bedrooms every attention he can wish. You know our terms, Mr. Jones, I think, but I may as well tell you five guineas a week. Five guineas a week, eh? Yes, that is moderate when you come to consider what a trouble and an expense it will be to get such things as will please the pallet of an Indian. It is a trouble, certainly. And besides that, he will have such a place in furniture as he seldom meets with in London. Besides, from what you say, there will be little trouble in attending to him by myself and daughters, and you know I have several. Exactly, exactly, that is the thing he seems to desire. You will therefore have a preference over anyone else who may have anything he wants, a kind of domestic hearth. He has none of his own, you see. Has he no friends? None living, I daresay, besides he would hardly like to trust himself along with relations who would poison him for the sake of his money. And if he have any living, he may know nothing of them, where they are or anything else, and they would be a strangers to him, for he would not be able to recognize them. But I must go now, five guineas, that includes all? Yes, all except wines and liquors, you know. Very well, I'll let him know. And perhaps you'll be in the way, in case he should come around this evening to examine the place. Do you think there is any chance of his coming in tonight? Really, I cannot tell. He may or may not, just as he pleases. He is an odd fish. But, good Mrs. Meredith, I will talk to him. The waiter left and Mrs. Meredith sat in her parlor, which was her own private apartment, which she and her daughters usually retired to and received their own friends. Here they remained, in some degree, kept in continual expectation. Nothing was said for some time by either mother or daughter, for there was but one at home at that time. Do you know, Margaret, she said, we are likely to have a new lodger? Indeed, ma? Yes, my dear, he is a fidgety old man, a colonel from India. He is vastly rich, I am given to understand, and will require all the attentions of a relative. He will pay very handsomely. In fact, my dear, he will keep us all with a little care and management. Well, ma, the men ought to do so, the creatures. What are they for if they don't? I am sure if ever I come to marry, which I am sure I shan't, and if I found that he didn't find me in all I wanted, wouldn't I lead him a life? I rather think I would, said the amiable child. I'd never let him know peace night nor day. It would be useless for him to tell me misfortune had deprived him of means. That would do for me. Oh, dear, no, a married man has no right to meet misfortunes. Indeed, he deserves to be punished for having a wife at all under such circumstances. A very proper spirit, my dear, but you must never let such a thing as that pass your lips, because it would be very likely to cause you to lose a chance. The men are so fastidious nowadays, and they think they win us when we angle for and catch them. And this Lajurma? Oh, he's, as I told you, a rich old East Indian. At this moment, a coach drove up to the door, and a tremendous double rap was played off upon the door, as if it had been committed by a steam engine, so loud and so long was the application for the admittance that both mother and daughter started. Dear me, that must be him, said the mother. Yes, a coach and all. There, there, I declare. What, ma? Why, look at that girl next door out in the balcony. There's Miss Smith. That girl is always trying to attract some person or other, and the men effect to believe that she is beautiful. For my part, I think a girl of 17 ought to have more modesty. The Hussie, said the young lady contemptuously. The servant now entered to inform her that a gentleman had called about the apartments. Ask him upstairs, said Mrs. Meredith, and she prepared to follow the colonel so soon as she heard he was ascending the stairs, which was a slow job to him as he walked lame with a gold-headed cane. When Mrs. Meredith came to the room, she saw a tall gentleman. His height was lost on account of him stooping. He wore a green shade over one eye and had one arm in a sling, besides which, as we have before related, he was rather lame. Not so bad as I thought for, muttered Mrs. Meredith to herself, as she curtsied to his salute. I have been recommended to seek here a lodging, ma'am. I do not know if I am correct in believing you have such as I want. This, sir, is the sitting-room. It is a very handsome one, and above what is visually offered in a lodging-house. The fact is, sir, the house was never furnished for letting, but for our own private occupation. Therefore, it has all of the comforts of a private residence. That is what I chiefly want. You see, I do not care to undertake the trouble of setting up an establishment myself. I am alone, I may say. Therefore it is I seek such a lodging as comes nearest to what I should myself choose if I were to make a home of my own. Precisely, sir, there is the back-drying-room and a bedroom upstairs. Oh, very good. I need, I presume, make no inquiry as to what kind of table you keep. The best I dare say. I was informed of the price you asked. Yes, we consider that quite moderate, sir. I dare say, said the Indian, looking about the place with an air of curiosity. I dare say. Yes, sir, you see, the advantages we offer are much above the usual run. Besides, you are an invalid and will require extra attention. Yes, there is much truth in that. I have used to it, and therefore you will see that I bargain for it. But at the same time, you will not find me difficult to please I flatter myself. But we shall know more of each other the longer we are together. Certainly, sir, I can assure you that should you take the apartments, nothing on my part or my daughters will be wanting to make your stay agreeable. The stranger examined the appearance of the room and the others, and then, after much conversation with them, he agreed to take the lodgings and to come into them on the morrow, as he was extremely particular as to well-air beds and should require them all to be re-aired. And now, madame, before I finally agree to come in, will you show me the means of escape, if any, in case of fire? I am anxious about that. I have read so many calamities arising from that cause of late in London that I am somewhat nervous about it, though I am so much of an invalid that I should hardly be able to avail myself of it. You shall see, sir, said Mrs. Meredith. We have ample and safe accommodation in that respect. You see, here is a pair of broad steps that lead up to that door, a trap door, and here is another that opens upon the leads at the top of the house. The Colonel made shift to walk up and to look over the housetops. There was a sea of chimneys and pantiles at the same time they were all easy of access on this side of the street. So there was no danger from fire, and each house there was similarly provided. Well, madame, I think I may say that this affair is concluded. I will leave you my card, and, if you think proper, you can obtain what information you desire of me at the hotel. I am quite satisfied, sir, said the landlady, as she took the card that was proffered her, and also a bank note which he offered her, in token for his taking possession of the lodgings. Mrs. Meredith curtsied, and the Colonel left the apartment, and descended the staircase with great deliberation, for he could not go very swiftly. He was lame, and one arm was up in a sling, and therefore he had not the free use of his limbs. As he came down the stairs, and when near the mat, Margaret, the eldest daughter, came out and passed into the back parlor, for no other ostensible purpose than that of seeing the stranger, whose eye was instantly but only momentarily fixed upon her. But it was enough, they both saw each other, and had a glance at the features, and Margaret disappeared. The stranger stepped into the coach, and, as the door was being shut, he looked up to the windows of the next house, where the young lady, nothing daunted, still sat at the window, and so little was she interested with her neighbor's affairs, that she barely bestowed a momentary glance upon the coach, or its occupant, whose solitary optic took notice of her, and then the jay who drove away with his rumbling vehicle. While I never saw such impudence in my life, said Mrs. Meredith, as she came to the parlor windows, which happened to bow outwards, and give her a better opportunity of watching her neighbors to the right and left of her. What is the matter, ma, inquired her daughter? Why, there's that minx still up yonder. I declare if she didn't stare at the colonel. He saw her and noticed her, too. Well, I wouldn't have had her there today for a trifle. He will think he's got into a bad neighborhood, seeing her so bold. Really now she lays herself open to all kinds of imputations. I do not mean to say any evil of her, but really, if she will do that now, what will she not do by and by? I am sorry she has no one to advise her better. I am sure she is old enough to know better, rejoin the daughter. I am quite sure she is no beauty. And if she wants to catch any of the men, she won't be successful in that manner, unless indeed she doesn't care whom she picks up with. Oh, that is, I fear, too often the case with young girls with weak intellects. But did you see our new lodger, my dear? Yes, ma. And what did you think of him, inquired Mrs. Meredith, with an amiable wine and a gentle rubbing of hands? Think, ma, think. What can I think of a man whom I have hardly seen, ma? He only passed me. I could not recollect him again if I tried. Ah, well, my dear, you know best. I can always recollect people whom I have once seen. He is a very fine man, at least he has been. He has lost much of his height for his lame and stoop's much. But still he has been a handsome man. One eye only, ma, I think. Yes, dear, one eye as you say. But I think a remarkably keen one, too. He's quite the gentleman, too. He's been used to command, you can see that. These military men have an air about them that you cannot mistake. And even this gentleman, though you see, wounded in lame, yet he has the air of an officer about him. He may have, ma, but you know, if he gave the air of a general with nothing else, it would buy a very poor dinner. So it would, my dear, you certainly are an extraordinary girl, Margaret, a very extraordinary girl, and will be the making of your family. Only suppose you should marry this rich colonel. What then, eh? I only say suppose you were to marry him, because it isn't certain yet. Well, wouldn't that minks next door think you were lucky? She would bite her nails in anger. Yes, she would, ma, but it may never happen. But if she thinks to get a bow that way, she's much mistaken. I am sure she will get insulted. No wonder. But, Margaret, my dear, you must do your best to please this gentleman. He wants to have people about him just as if he had his own home. He has no friends or relatives. Who knows what may happen yet? No, ma, we don't know what may happen. And I will do my best to please him. But I shan't court him, you know, ma. He must do that. Yes, certainly, my child, he must. No, you mustn't appear anxious about it. But merely say you are pleased to have his good opinion, and you must be a little coy of everything else, for there are times when such old gentlemen are easily entrapped. But I must set about having things aired and put into order for his arrival tomorrow.