 Chapter 153 of Varni the Vampire, Volume 3. Varni the Vampire, Volume 3 by Thomas Prescott-Prest. Chapter 153 The Assembly. Sir Francis' First Overtures to Mary Stevens. The Breakfast Scene and the Honor Declined. Sir Francis Varni, as soon as he reached his hotel, changed his habiliments and sought the phrasers whom he found ready for the assembly and somewhat fearful he was not coming. He easily excused himself on the score of illness and then they persuaded him to remain at their abode and they would all do so too. But at the same time Sir Francis insisted that his indisposition was but temporary and he would rather visit the place as it was a ball-night. Thus persuaded they agreed and the five of them proceeded to the assembly-rooms where they amused themselves as fashionable people usually do. They danced and were highly delighted with the place which was certainly of a very superior description, contained the very elite of the Voth visitors and appealed to advantage. The wealth and beauty to be found in the room would have caused many a heart to bound with rapture, whether it was the misers or the lovers, for both could there find that which gladdened them most, gold in beauty, wealth and youth. Each could gloat his eyes on that he held dearest. Did you ever witness a scene like this? said Sir Francis Varni, as he led Miss Stevens to a seat and handed her refreshments. Did you ever behold one in which was collected so much beauty and youth? There are many happy faces, said Mary Stevens, and hearts too, I hope, said Varni. I hope so too, replied Mary. There are several here who have never been to a ball before, tis their debut in life, and a fine and lovely commencement it is, and if all their future years should be such a round of pleasure and gaiety as this, they needs must be happy. I'm sure they must, people here seem to wish to make each other happy. And if they strive in heart, they must succeed in doing so, and in making themselves happy too. No doubt they do. And you, Miss Stevens, would you not make yourself happy when you make others happy? inquired Sir Francis Varni. I certainly do feel happy when I am an instrument in the hands of another doing good, and seeing it really gives others happiness. That is one of the noblest ends of life. And one which you, Sir Francis, have pursued to some purpose. You ought to be happy if any man can claim happiness. I am in one respect, but then there is a great void in life which has to be filled, when that void is in the affections, can it be surprising that sorrow and grief are there? I cannot give you an answer, because I have no knowledge of such an existence, had I it would be otherwise, but I cannot say ye or nay. Well, said Sir Francis, it is so, that void is in my heart, and before I saw you I felt it not. But now, he paused, but now I feel it, feel it deeply, and I shall ever do so unless, but I hardly dare say more, my heart will never again know sorrow and never again feel tranquil. Wants and wishes have sprung up which, until now, have never presented themselves in the shape of possibilities, much less probabilities, and which now are realities. This is a strange conversation, Sir Francis. It is, Miss Stevens, and I feel it to be so, but unfortunately I have a certain difficulty to overcome, which perhaps accident, more than courage, will enable me to break through. But to speak plainly, before I saw you, the whole world was alike to me. I cared not for one more than another, but now the world has new charms. I have new hopes and wishes. God knows if they are to be dissipated, like the morning mist before the glories of the rising sun. Love has made sad havoc on my heart, and to love and despair is the bitterest plot humanity can fall into. Men can bear all that adverse fate may entail upon him, but that saps at the foundation of the superstructure, our love of life, without which society could not hold together, and, with disappointed love, there is no love of existence. Indeed, Sir Francis, I regret to hear it. Will you prevent it? I cannot now answer you any such question if I were inclined to do so. I have not the power. See, Sir Francis, there is another set. Will you dance? No, I do not think I will dance any more tonight, but I shall be glad to rejoin my sister and brother. I will lead you to them with pleasure, but will you allow me to name this matter to Captain Fraser? I have no right to dictate to you, Sir Francis, said Mary with evident embarrassment, much less would I do so, or endeavor to do so to one to whom I owe so much, and yet I fear it will be fruitless. There, yonder, are your friends. As Sir Francis spoke, he pointed to another end of the room, to which he was leading her, and which was occupied by many of the most fashionable and beautiful. They also had to pass down a lane of fashionables, who were occupying seats, having been fatigued by dancing, many not having danced at all, but come to keep watchful and argus eyes upon the sons and daughters whom they brought with them. These, at least, noticed them. All eyes were fixed upon them, and Sir Francis, certainly with an air of triumph, led the beautiful Mary Stevens towards her friends, who were gazing at them with attention. Mary thought herself somewhat awkwardly situated, and knew not how to release herself, and also felt that any attempt of the kind would really be as ungracious as it would be ungrateful, and so resigned herself. A few yards more, and then she was once again in the company of her friends, but not released from Sir Francis, for he seated himself by her side with the ease of one who was well accustomed to their society and of those around them. Well, Sir Francis, said Mrs. Fraser, you have not been unnoticed in the ballroom. You have created quite a sensation. Your dancing is superior, and your tall figure has set you off. You mistake, Mrs. Fraser, the object of such general attention was no other than your beautiful sister, my fair partner. Don't make her vain. That, indeed, would be a misfortune, but she has such an excellent capacity of mind that she runs no danger of such a misfortune. But even if it were not so, there would be much excuse. You are flattering, Sir Francis. Not I, I assure you. How do you find yourself? I am getting fatigued. My recent journeys must plead an excuse for my weariness at such a time and in such a place as this. I am not surprised at this, considering how you have been riding about for many days past. Would you choose to retire tonight and remain later on another occasion? I think, said Captain Fraser, it may be as well. What do you say, my dear? I am quite willing. And so am I, said Mary. Indeed, I would much sooner we left early, if midnight can be called early. It is much past that hour now. Then I think we are decided upon going. Very well, said Sir Francis, then I will obtain a carriage for our use, and then we shall retire to our homes. If you please, Sir Francis. Farny then rose and went out for the purpose of procuring what was wanted, and by the aid of a little silver he soon obtained what he desired and then returned to inform his friends of the success of his mission. They then left the ballroom and proceeded at once to enter the carriage, which was so placed that they could at once enter without any inconvenience, and they soon gained their hotel, and after a slight repast they separated. It was late next morning when Sir Francis Farny entered the room in which he usually took breakfast with the Fraser's, but, though late, he only met Captain Fraser. I am afraid, Captain Fraser, said Farny, I have kept you all. Perhaps the ladies are gone out? No, no, they have not yet come down. Indeed, had you been in five minutes earlier than this, you would not have found me here. Well, I know not the reason, but I slept well myself. To be sure, said Sir Francis, I did not fall readily to sleep, and that may account for it. Indeed, and you do not sleep sound? Usually, I may say generally, but sometimes some reflections keep the mind actively employed against one's own wishes. They do so, Sir Francis, I have myself found that to be the case, but I am very sorry my female folks do not come down. Nay, nay, Captain Fraser, do not wish that on my account. I am rather pleased they are not down than otherwise. Indeed, Sir Francis. Yes, replied Sir Francis, as it leaves me an opportunity of saying a few words to you, Captain Fraser, upon a subject that concerns myself nearly and deeply. You amaze me, Sir Francis. I had hoped you might have had some guess at it, Captain Fraser, as it would have helped me through my task, for my heart almost fails me when I think of the possibility of want of success. My want of nerve is not habitual. I can depose to so much, Sir Francis, you showed courage and nerve where courage and nerve were most wanted. Ah, well, Captain Fraser, if I had been brought up to your noble profession, I should have been better able to make an impression, but I will do my best. But the subject is a grave one, as it relates to my feelings toward your sister-in-law, Miss Mary Stevens. Indeed, Sir Francis. Yes, Captain Fraser, I, who have passed through so many ordeals of beauty, have at last been compelled to bow before the shrine of beauty. I am a devoted and humble admirer of Miss Stevens' charms and virtues. Well, Sir Francis, I now beg your permission to visit her and be accepted in your family in the character of one who ardently wishes and desires to become a member of it by means of an union between myself and that young lady. Personally, Sir Francis, I have the greatest pleasure in hearing you say so much. Then I am likely to be fortunate. So far as my approbation and my consent are concerned, Sir Francis, you certainly are successful. But according to the vulgar proverb, as one swallow makes no summer, so one individual's consent is not decisive where two are required to concur. Certainly, Captain Fraser, I was not wishing to put the young lady aside. But having your consent, I may go on to endeavor to obtain the happiness I so much look forward to. But I may count upon your good offices. You may, most certainly. And your amiable lady? Yes, I think I may say she will unite with me in using all due means of aiding you in your wishes. But here she is. At that moment, Mrs. Fraser entered the apartment and advancing to Sir Francis, offering him her hand in saying, Sir Francis, how do you do this morning? I am afraid I have kept you. Ah, I see you are alone with Captain Fraser. Where is my sister? Mary has not yet come down, said Fraser. Ah, we are both late, I think. I am, madame, but you have come at a right moment. Have I? Why do you reckon it so? Because I was just at that moment speaking of you and here you are, so that I can speak to you which is much better. Well, so it is, but what is it about? You're amiable and lovely sister. Ah, that is what you men always say. It is just what Captain Fraser said to me. Then I may hope for a like success. I don't understand, said Mrs. Fraser doubtfully. Why, I was saying to Captain Fraser if he could obtain your aid in my behalf in an attack upon your sister's heart. I have been unable to hold out any longer. I am deeply and desperately in love. Well, that is a very dangerous disorder and I must see what Mary can do to console you in your affliction. You will indeed deserve my best thanks if you will do so and should success crown our efforts how deep a debt of gratitude will mine be to you. How much are we not yours already? But my whole happiness will be through your efforts. Oh, no, no, remember you said but just now it was my sister you meant to wed and not me. Good God, how could you imagine I had such a profane thought? Ha, ha, Sir Francis, I must see what I can do with Mary. But she comes, another of the Dermatis personae. Mary Stevens at that moment entered the room and felt almost abashed at finding all eyes riveted upon her without speaking. And she advanced towards the fire having made an inclination to Sir Francis saying as she came down, I fear I have been the means of keeping you waiting. I am sorry you did so, but I was really not aware of the hour. Nor were we, said Mrs. Fraser, and it appears we have all been late, save Sir Francis, who, like a true knight, has been at his post, I don't know how long before I came down myself. Nay, don't you listen to any charges, Miss Stevens. I have been here but a very short time, though I ought to have been down here earlier. It is fortunate, then, you did, Sir Francis, and I am relieved of the charge of detaining breakfast to an unusual hour. It matters but little when it is had, so long as it is to be had when it is wanted. What say you, Sir Francis? I believe that the grand object of all our wishes and wants is to have what we want when we want it. An eastern potentate could not be better served or more powerful or richer than to be able to say so much. You are his equal. I am in some things certainly, replied Sir Francis, but I want an empress and thus, you see, I am dethroned and rendered powerless by a few words. You can obtain even that. Not exactly, for she whom I might choose might refuse to become mine. Then I am a weary wanderer upon earth's surface. I am no longer one among men, but a mere existence, moving about without filling any allotted position. This is very doleful, Sir Francis, said Mary. If you say much more, you will spoil your appetite for breakfast. Mary, that is a cruel cut. You did not mean it, I dare say, but it is a sufficient rebuke. I must come to plain speaking, and at once hope you will recollect the subject upon which I spoke to you in the ballroom last night. I do, Sir Francis, it would be affectation to say I did not. Well, I have sought Captain and Mrs. Fraser's permission to endeavor to win those smiles and good wishes that I so much desire should be mine. You can never deserve less than good wishes from me, said Mary Stevens. You cannot have less. I am too deeply indebted. There now, pray permit me to interrupt you. I must not hear any more of that. I did my duty on that occasion. Occasions. Well, occasions, and I hope no gentleman having the power would have done otherwise. And if so, I have only done what others would have done under the same circumstances. A very ordinary act indeed. You are making less of it than it deserves, were it only for our sakes. I see you won't entertain my wishes seriously, but recollect what is sport to you is death to me. The affections of a blighted heart cannot weigh lightly when the evil is consummated. Do not think, Sir Francis. I wish to evade or to slight any wishes you may form. As far as I am concerned, they are a great honor to me, but I am yet too young and averse to anything of the kind yet to feel justified in seriously entertaining such matters as those you allude to. That indeed must be a mistake. You are not too young. Let me hope that you will not refuse to allow me the satisfaction and pleasure of your company. That would indeed be a greater misfortune than could otherwise happen to me to be deprived suddenly of that, I assure you. Certainly I cannot feel otherwise than gratitude to you, Sir Francis, and derive that pleasure in your society which others feel and which all your friends must experience. But we will say no more upon this subject, except that I have given as serious and positive an answer as I can. There were many other observations made during breakfast time to much the same effect, but it is unnecessary to record them, and the breakfast passed off as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances. End of Chapter 153, Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 154 of Varni the Vampire Volume 3. 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 3 by Thomas Prescott-Prest, Chapter 154. The Two Sisters, Mary Stevens' Dislike of Sir Francis Varni, Unuseless Suit, Disunion There was much stir in both next day on account of the murder that had occurred, and everybody spoke of it. The papers were filled with it, and it was thought to have been the most barbarous murder that had ever been committed, and most active exertions were being made to discover the perpetrators of this horrid D. All sorts of conjectures were being made as to who the murderer might be, and his object in becoming one. Gold, of course, was assigned as that. There was something terrible in the fact that this should have occurred just as the phrasers had arrived in Bath. It was startling, they thought, though they could, of course, have no connection with it whatever. While the examinations were being proceeded with, Sir Francis Varni appeared out in the streets as seldom as possible. Not that he had any fear of recognition, for that was impossible, but at the same time he would not run unnecessary risk while so much was to be won. The days passed, and very many pleasant hours were spent, and the gayities of Bath were enjoyed to their fullest. While Sir Francis was their great friend everywhere, for, somehow or other, Sir Francis obtained the precedents go where he would, and they shared it with him. He pressed his suit with much ardor, and Mary Stevens appeared each day less and less inclined to accept of Sir Francis Varni for a lover. She felt a greater and greater repugnance to Sir Francis, who, however, pressed her more hardly and more assiduously than ever. However, Captain Fraser and his lady were sensible of the advantages of such a match to themselves and to Mary, for they could not believe that one so courteous and brave could do otherwise than make any lady happy. The first objection would wear away in the person of such a man as Varni. They therefore espoused his cause warmly when they found that Mary was averse to the match. What can be your objection, Mary? inquired Mrs. Fraser. I cannot tell. Surely it cannot be an insurmountable objection, said Captain Fraser, since you do not know what it consists of. You cannot have a very definite idea, and possibly a little explanation may set the matter to rights. I know well enough what it means. Do you, dear? Why not tell us? I will. It consists of a strong dislike to Sir Francis. I cannot tell you why, but it is a very strong and yet distinct feeling. What can it arise from? That I cannot explain. If you could, we should be able to come to some conclusion respecting it, but at present it appears like a blind, causeless antipathy, and against one so well calculated to make any female happy as Sir Francis Varni is so extraordinary that it really exceeds belief. I cannot express my regret and astonishment. I cannot understand it. I am sorry for it. And more like in gratitude, Mary, than I thought you capable of. There are two occasions upon which you stand indebted to him for your life. He risked his own greatly on the last occasion. I am truly sorry it should happen so, sister. Well then, Mary, amend the error, for if it were an ordinary affair, common dislike might pass very well, but toward such a man as Sir Francis Varni it is decidedly wrong. Indeed, when I recollect the horrors of that night, when I remember the flames and smoke and saw you wrapped up safely from the effects of the fire, while he was exposed to every breath of hot air, hush, I recollect it all, but it makes me shudder. Can you then disregard such a man with cold dislike? Upon my word I am shocked at your baseness. Sister, sister, you are too severe, too severe. Only just, Mary, only just. More than just. Do not turn persecutor. I would not, but this conduct of yours makes me feel strongly, very strongly, and I can hardly face Sir Francis Varni and tell him that one who belongs to me can treat him in such a manner. Does love always spring from gratitude? It is useless to ask such questions, Mary, for I might retort by asking if such services as his always produced dislike. But Sir Francis is no ordinary man. Suppose you do not love him, which might be explicable, but then you have no other love. You are fancy free, are you not? Yes, yes. Well, then, you have no motive for dislike, though you might be indifferent. In such a case I should not have thought it possible that there could have been less than gratitude and the warmest esteem for his services and his good qualities, for he has as good qualities as a man can have. Yes, sister, but that dreadful night has left such an impression upon my mind that I cannot, dearest, do what you desire. I mean I cannot love Sir Francis Varni. What, not love him because of the remembrance of his services? You quite misunderstood my feelings upon that occasion. I can never feel grateful enough for the rescue from that horrible monster who attacked me while I slept at the inn. I can never forget that moment of horror and terror. I cannot even to this day make out the object of the intruder. It was not robbery, and it could not have been any ordinary attack, for it was not carried on in the usual manner. To seize anyone by the arm and suck the blood from their veins appears to me to be a proceeding quite unaccountable in the ordinary course of things. It was very strange. Yes, and stranger than all, it has given me a perfect horror of man in general. I cannot abide the thought of being married at all. Indeed I won't, and I hope that is enough. Upon my word my good sister, said Captain Fraser, half angry and half justingly, you would almost make me believe you are desirous of taking the veil, but you cannot have any reason for taking such a strong antipathy to male creatures. You must know very well that, because you have got a fright in a country inn, that all the abodes of men in the world are not filled with goblins, spirits and the like, and wicked ogres who are only waiting to eat up young maidens. It was no justing matter to me. I do not say about what it was a frightful reality, but at the same time such terrible occurrences as these cannot be supposed to happen every day in one's life. Indeed one in a long life would be a terrible frequency which is never known, and I think you might dismiss the subject from your mind as an inexplicable event, unpleasant and unprofitable to recall. But it has been too terrible and too mysterious for me to ever forget, and least of all could I do it in so short a time. Well I do not expect you could forget it immediately, but at the same time I cannot see how it could affect your opinion of your preserver. Indeed it is a strange perversion of intellect, not to say a degree of ingratitude, that is difficult if not impossible to understand or believe. Well I can say no more, said Mary. That is very resigned and easy on your part, but what we are to say to Sir Francis Varney I am sure I cannot tell. It appears to me that you have a childish dislike to him, one for which you can allege no reason, and therefore improper. I wonder what he or any impartial person could think of it if they had all fully and carefully explained to them. I am sure I do not know, but it is usually sufficient, in a case of this kind, to say one cannot love the party and to escape from what becomes an inflection or in time a persecution. But this is not such a case as you would appear to imagine, there is no persecution, and Sir Francis only desires that you will permit him to attempt to obtain your good will. But knowing he cannot obtain that, speaking in the light you mean, it becomes a serious annoyance to me to think I should always be attended by a person who, on the score of having done me some services, expects me to listen to his addresses and to accept him as a lover. It is becoming a slave indeed, when one must not exercise one's discretion in a matter that so nearly concerns the happiness of my future life. You are making mountains out of molehills, Mary. I have not taken the same view of this matter that you have, replied Miss Stevens, and therefore you quarrel with me. I think that a great deal too bad. I did not believe you would have quarreled with me upon such a subject, one that concerns me so much too, as this. Exactly, it does concern you, and it concerns us also, and that is the reason why we feel warmly upon the subject. Your want of motive is so apparent that it quite concerns us. We are completely staggered. What it can all end in, I am sure I cannot tell. But Sir Francis must think us an ungrateful set, or at least he must believe you are actuated by the worst and most ungracious caprice and capable of great ingratitude. I am sorry for it, but for all that I cannot consent to marry Sir Francis Barney. I know not why, but I do. You really ought to be ashamed of such an admission, for I am sure he does not deserve such treatment. I am compelled to admit that to be true. Then why in the name of heaven should you let prejudice surmount reason, and reason that you acknowledge ought to be paramount? You know you're folly, and yet you persist in it. Was there ever such folly? Come, Mary, come! You must give up this kind of nonsense. You must act as I have always believed you would. You must meet Sir Francis in a proper spirit, and the result will no doubt be that you will banish all these idle fancies. I should be glad to do so, for they make me very unhappy. Well, well, they are calculated to do so, and when you have cast them aside, your own happiness and that of your friends will be much increased. There was much stir in both on account of the murder, and the papers were filled with terrific descriptions of the scene, which some even went to the trouble and expense of producing sketches of, which, what with being badly drawn, badly copied, blotted and printed, and being as unlike the original as possible, gave the inhabitants and strangers not a very vivid idea of the place. When, however, the details were averted to, they were terrible enough, and when Sir Francis Barney entered the apartment in which he usually dined, he found his friends were full of the discussion. Have you seen anything of the murder, Sir Francis? No, sir, replied Sir Francis. Well, there is a dreadful affair happened. How horrible to think! They might not have been discovered at all, but for the neighbors breaking the doors in. What is it all about, Captain? Why, two old women were murdered a few nights ago, and they have but just been discovered. The papers are full of it. What, the murderers? Well, that was a quick discovery. No, no, I mean it was not discovered at all, as it is supposed, until at least four and twenty hours after the deed. Dear me, how was that? I cannot tell, except the old woman was an eccentric, and her shutters had been closed before for a whole day. But there were no other signs of life about the house the whole day, which alarmed the neighbors much, and they began to take precautions towards the evening to force the door when a tall, peculiar-looking man was observed entering the house by means of a key. They observed that, did they? Yes, he was seen quite plain. It will be fortunate if he had been the murderer, because they can identify him. Undoubtedly they can. I am glad of it, said Varney. Well, he was seen to go in, and then to go over the house, because there was a light scene to travel upstairs and stop there some time. And then they knocked for admission, but not being answered, they at once forced open the door, and they all rushed in, but were horrified to find themselves tumbling over the dead bodies of the old woman who kept the house and her servant. Ah, it must have been a startling thing, certainly. Well, they stopped a moment or two, as was most probable at such a sight, and then they ran upstairs, believing the murderer was there. And was he there? He must have been so, because they heard him get up to the roof, and they followed, but were baffled because he threw the ladder down, which caused them some confusion, and during that the murderer contrived to escape. Well, it was quite a field of adventure, but it is to be lamented, said Varney. They were not successful in their endeavors to catch the murderer, but what is the alleged motive for the deed? They say that she had some strange fancies, and that, among others, she had all her money in the house, her capital upon which she lived, without any fear of exhausting it. It was known to some one or other, and got whispered about, and it is presumed that for this purpose the poor woman was murdered. How horribly barbarous! But ain't there any suspicion upon anyone, because it is usually the case? There is, I believe. And upon whom does it fall? Upon a relation of her own, who has not been seen for some days, and who had been known to have spoken with impatience at the old woman's life, and the mode in which she spent her money. That speaks for itself, said Varney. So it does, but they have not taken him yet. I hope they will, I am sure, because the whole affair is so truly horrible. So it is. Will you go to the theatre tonight? There is no ball. We can have an excellent box. What do you say, my dear? said Captain Fraser to his lady. I am willing. Are you agreeable, Mary? Yes, I am quite content with your decision. Then we are all agreed to the proposal. There will be a celebrated actress from London there, and I hope we will find the entertainment well worthy of our patronage. Indeed, I have little doubt of it. End of Chapter 154, Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 155 of Varney the Vampire, Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Varney the Vampire, Volume 3 by Thomas Prescott-Prest Chapter 155 The Effects of Perseverance Sir Francis Varney and Mary Stevens In Evening Party and Conversation The evening was spent agreeable enough at the Bath Theatre. Sir Francis Varney, having taken the greatest pains to ingratiate himself with Mary Stevens so much and so delicately, that she could not but feel ashamed at her antipathy towards him, and certainly did all she could to get the better of it, and succeeded in some measure in doing so. They all returned home in very good humor with themselves and everything. Captain Fraser and his lady were completely predisposed to look upon Sir Francis Varney as one of the first men in England for rank and breeding. Even Mary Stevens was compelled to admit she never saw anyone whose demeanor was to be more admired more than his. The next morning they all assembled at the breakfast table and were all full of lively images and thoughts of the preceding evening. There was much more of cordiality and intimacy than had been felt among them before, for Sir Francis Varney's courtliness gave way and he became almost as one of the family. Mary looked upon him with something like wonder to see how agreeable a man could be whom she disliked. One or two days more passed in this manner and the dislike of Mary Stevens to Sir Francis, if not less, was at least not so active or violent, but she received him as an old friend. That much emboldened Sir Francis, who again resolved he would speak to her and that in the presence of her brother and sister, hoping by such a proceeding he should be able to overcome her dislike or fears by his own efforts, aided by Captain and Mrs. Fraser, who would create a diversion in his favor. I wish not, he said, to be importunate, but in a matter that concerns one's future hopes and wishes one cannot well slumber over them. I wish to become one of such a family as that into which I find myself so strangely and accidentally introduced, though I fear I have failed to make myself as acceptable as I could wish. No one could think Sir Francis Varney otherwise than acceptable, said Captain Fraser. Your services to us alone would be enough to endow us all with the most lively gratitude and admiration, where you only to appear amongst us with no other qualification, but you add those which evidently make any gentleman an ornament to the circle he may grace with his acquaintance and friendship. You take a favorable view of all that you see, Captain Fraser. No, no, I merely speak what I think upon a subject which I have had, I may say, some experience. I have myself had some dealings in the world. My profession puts me forward, and I may repeat what I said. No, no, I will not suffer you to do that. What I wish to do is, to impress, if possible, my fair friend here with favorable sentiments toward myself. I am not as some of the young men of these times who win by the violence of their suit, which they urge with all the haste of violence to attack and storm the citadel. That is a very good plan, Sir Francis. Why don't you yourself pursue such a system? It must carry the citadel by assault. No, no, said Mary, you will not do anything of the kind. Was that the way in which you yourself acted? If so, I am sure I pity my sister. For what can she hope for when she was taken in such a violent manner? Oh, no, no, Fraser was the unfortunate victor who was taken prisoner in the moment of victory. Yes, that is the fact. I was taken prisoner, but I have since been appointed governor in the enemy's country. Ha, ha, ha! Well, that is a fortunate issue to your adventure. I would that mine were as fortunate. I love and yet fear to say so. Fear never won a young lady, said Fraser, so don't be afraid. What does my fair enemy say her? I have said so much upon the subject, Sir, before, that I was in hopes I should not have had any occasion to say more. I'm sorry to hear you say so. Why, it is a pity to render a matter that has settled uncertain without the prospect of anything being gained by it. So it is, but I hope that is not the present case, Miss Stevens. My petition, I hope, is not rejected merely because it has suffered so before. I cannot but hope, though despair forever steer me in the face for it. But perhaps devotion and heartfelt love may make some impression upon you and soften the rigors of a heart that cannot, I am sure, be a pleasure in the distress of another. No, no, Sir Francis, you only do me justice in saying so much. I can indeed feel no pleasure in such things. You may rely upon it. Gratitude alone would prompt me to comply with any request you might make at once and cheerfully. But you must admit that this is a question that alters the complexion of other matters and what might be proper under other circumstances cannot be expected under this. Nor am I so unreasonable as to expect anything of the kind. Now, Miss Stevens, you much mistake Sir Francis Barney if you think him capable of such meanness. I wish you to act from your own unbiased judgment and, however painful the result, yet I would in silence put up with your decision. But still I hope you will not act imperatively, that you will look upon my suit with, at least, not a harsh and diverse spirit. Have some compassion upon one who is entirely at your mercy. Come, Mary, do not act unkindly. I do not know what to say. I cannot give any other answer. Nay, I won't hear of such a thing, Mary, said Mrs. Fraser. Now or never. I will not say that you must not be mindful of the past, but you were never ungrateful, that I know. You cannot be otherwise than happy. You embarrass me. Miss Stevens, let nothing weigh with you save your own happiness. That is my object and my own at the same time. Say yes, Mary. I, I cannot. Will not. What objection? What on earth could you wish for more? Do not press me. I should be sorry to do so at such a moment where it decidedly your desire not to give an answer now. But I do beg you will not let me linger longer than necessary. Indeed, I find I cannot exist in your society and be deprived of the hope that I may call you one day my own. Do, Mary, say yes, say yes. Will Miss Stevens give me leave to suppose that there may be a time when I may be rewarded for my patience? I will not press you for a plain answer now, but give me some token that I am not to remain unhappy. Come, Mary, come. Sir Francis gives you every indulgence. But Mary was obstinate some time longer until Sir Francis, in a transport, pressed her hand and placed it to his lips. At the same time she suffered her silence to be construed into a consent to his wishes. Well, Sir Francis, said Captain Fraser, let me congratulate you in having subdued the enemy and you, Mary, in having such a conqueror. I protest it was a hard-fought battle and one that I could not tell who would prove triumphant. I feel well assured you may congratulate me, Captain Fraser. I congratulate myself. I assure you. Therefore you may do so to me. I do heartily. Thank you. I shall be happy. But what are the tactics for the night? What are we to do? Yes, precisely. Oh, suppose we have a nice party among ourselves. We can amuse ourselves, I dare say. I am fatigued myself and care not to go out tonight. We have all gone out so lately that it will be a change and a rest. So it will, said Miss Stevens. I am really glad that we shall have one night on which we can retire at early hours. Are you willing, Sir Francis, to spend a dull evening? It cannot be dull at all events in such company. I shall be happy to remain with you, indeed. I feel that a quiet, happy evening is a thing that would be very acceptable to me at least. But still I can do as you please. Then we'll have a quiet evening among ourselves. Have you heard anything more about the murder that took place the other day? I have, said Mrs. Fraser. What have you heard, inquired Sir Francis? I will tell you, replied Mrs. Fraser. You recollect that the nephew had been suspected of having murdered the two women and committed a robbery afterwards. Yes, yes, I heard so much. Well, they have taken the nephew now and he has been examined before a police constable and will be again examined in another day or two. Indeed, they have made quick work of it. How can they suspect he had any hand in the affair? I believe they knew he had been very poor and had been very impatient for the old woman's death that he might have it all. Now such a line of conduct was bad and has caused persons to suspect him and also the fact that he has got a quantity of gold about him for the possession of which he cannot account. I, that seems bad. But what kind of excuse can he give for the possession of such treasure? He is surely not silent. Oh, dear, no, he is not silent. All he says, however, is that his aunt gave it to him to leave the country with. That is strange, very singular. It is, and that is why they disbelieve it. Besides, he had made no preparations for his departure. That have yet been discovered. Besides, his shoes were evidently soiled with human blood and the footsteps in the passage and on the stairs, at least some of them, were exactly of the same size. That is a strong proof. So it is, but there appears to have been an accomplice for there are other footmarks of a different size much larger and longer. Dear me, said Barney, didn't you say there were many people who ran upstairs after the man who got away? Yes, to be sure. Well, some of them might have left a footprint. Well, I suppose they might, and yet they must have reasons for saying that these footsteps were those of an accomplice. Perhaps they were fresher than the others, or it may be they have a different appearance from the more recent ones. It may be so. However, it seems that Barney However it may be, it is quite certain that he has done the deed. Whether he had any help or not, he at least will be punished. No doubt he ought to suffer for such a deed. It is that which gives security to the rest of society. But it was a dreadful thing. A murder committed by a friend or relation is, I think, more heinous if possible than when committed casually by ordinary murderers whose sole crimes are murder and robbery. To be sure when any tie that combined one individual to another is broken who would have taken precautions against such as those whom we value, but he was ungrateful and killed his benefactress for such she had been. End of chapter 155 Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 156 of Barney the Vampire Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Barney the Vampire Volume 3 by Thomas Prescott-Prest Chapter 156 The Wedding Morning The Progress of Justice and the Discovery of the Murderer The Disappation of a Scene The days flew by and the aspect of affairs insensibly changed. Sir Francis Barney gradually drew over the scene such an appearance of candor and disinterestedness that the phrasers were delighted with the prospect of such an alliance and they left no means of propitiating and influencing Miss Stevens in his favor. And they succeeded to a certain extent in stifling all expressions of dissent and brought her to a state of passive obedience. She had nothing to allege against Sir Francis but her dislike to him and even that she felt was weaker and the more she exerted her mind the weaker such impressions appeared to be. A convincing proof to her that it was a mere blind reasonless prejudices which it was her duty to throw off and she exerted herself to do so. Thus it was she became passive in the hands of her friends and Sir Francis Barney had the satisfaction of seeing that he was about to pick up a bride at length. His pleasure knew no bounds and his eyes glistened in a manner that once or twice Mary recoiled from him in terror and she had nearly revived her first feelings against him. However that might have been he saw his error and he conducted himself differently afterwards for he too well knew the effect it must have upon the artless and beautiful young girl whose affections he cared not to win so that he stifled her objections and obtained her hand. Her heart was not with him an object. I think now, said Captain Fraser to Sir Francis when they were alone I think now Sir Francis that we ought to come to some understanding. I shall be but too happy Captain Fraser to do so in every sense of the word and upon every subject we can have in common. Then we shall have no difficulty in this affair. I hope not I assure you. Well then Sir Francis you desire to marry into our family? Most unquestionably my heart and fortune are at the disposal of Miss Stevens. I care for nothing else but her. Fortune Captain Fraser is no object to me. I do not care for a single penny piece I have enough for myself. Money is not happiness itself pursued the Captain. I believe it. I feel it. And yet Mary is not penniless she has her dower though by no means a large one yet she has one. Then let the whole whatever it may be be safely securely made over for her own use and that of her children. It is generous, very generous of you Sir Francis and your generosity much embarrasses me and I hardly know how to proceed with a little matter which I deem a part of my duty to perform. Do not let me be a hindrance to you I am sure I should regret it much besides the more we know of each other the greater confidence we have in each other provided our knowledge is of that character that will increase our respect. You are quite right Sir Francis Well Captain I hope what you are going to say will not give me cause to feel myself less happy than I am. I hope not I believe not but what I was about to say is a very ordinary and common occurrence on an occasion like the present. Well let me know all about it and then the murder will be out. Good we have but little more than personal communication with each other apart from our respective homes we do not know much of each other in the ordinary acceptation of the word I wish to know something relative to your private affairs. I really cannot do so unless you travel northward with me. Indeed indeed. Stop I can give you corroborative proof I have none direct about me but I can do that much but perhaps it will not do. Quite enough I am satisfied if you can give me corroborative proof of what you say and that without premeditation it will be still stronger and more valuable. If you think so what do you say to those two letters Captain Fraser? Two letters? The one is from my gamekeeper and the other is from my bailiff who has to overlook my property and advise me of what was being done on the estate and the state of my financial affairs. They will do sir I believe. As Captain Fraser took the two letters he looked at the post marks and saw that they were plain and readable and the date. They were then correctly described by Sir Francis Barney. They came from the north and one was a business-like letter from the bailiff and one quite in keeping from the head gamekeeper both of whom mentioned many local and petty matters that fully bore out all that was to be expected from them. And do you keep up an establishment of this character Sir Francis? I do I can afford it I have ever since they have been born looked for abundance from the soil that produced them and I don't think I shall be justified in having the hardness of heart to turn them off. You are a kind and good master I wish to be so and when Sir Francis do you intend to return there? I am glad you asked the question I should like to take my bride there to spend the honeymoon I wish now to leave other objects and to get back as soon as the ceremony is over. There I should like to take her it would be a rare and splendid life to lead in the old Gothic mansion as much like a castle as anything I can describe but an ornamented castle of course for I don't mean high walls and no windows. Certainly not. But will you assist me in obtaining her consent to a speedy union and that effected we will whirl off for the mansion to follow us at leisure the union will I hope and believe be most happy I hope so I trust and believe it will in the meantime any more information or proof you can desire shall be obtained for you do not be backward upon this head I am quite satisfied Sir Francis Thus Sir Francis Barney had succeeded in hoodwinking Captain Fraser and his wife and a fairly subdued all show of objection and had so far succeeded as to obtain a quiet and tacit consent to all he desired the interview described was reported to Mrs. Fraser and her sister and was considered liberal and satisfactory and the marriage was spoken of as likely to be immediate which brought forth no remark from Mary and the matter was considered as nearly settled the day only was to be appointed and that could not be very distant one morning as they were seated at breakfast and that after the day had been fixed at a greater distance of time than Sir Francis Barney liked the subject of the murder was again brought up and Mrs. Fraser said there is nothing more about the murder now is there no replied Sir Francis not that I have heard of I believe the unfortunate man will be tried one of these days he stands committed said Captain Fraser here is something in the paper what is in it something more about the murder what is it inquired Sir Francis I am anxious to learn if they have done anything more for I was sick of it and wish to know when such a horrible tragedy will end the sooner it is passed and forgotten the better that is true for knowing a man is lying waiting for the hour to arrive when he shall die a violent death is truly terrible so it is they seem to say that there is some clue to another person of a most remarkable appearance who escaped through another house and deceived the inmates by describing a fire that was upstairs indeed how strange said Sir Francis yes they say they will not publish more lest it defeat the ends of justice something else sprung up I suppose no doubt but here is something more the prisoner will be tried in a few days and if condemned executed in a very short time then I wish that one happy marriage would come off before that time I am sure Mary will be wretched and I cannot be so happy as I could wish to be then postpone it for a few weeks no no no that would never do hasten it besides we should have to pass through all the wretchedness consequent upon knowing a man a murderer it is true and perhaps two of them that is waiting to die I think myself said Captain Fraser that we might with advantage leave Bath before the trial takes place it would certainly be more comfortable so it would said Mrs Fraser and to tell the truth I begin to get tired of this place beautiful as it is in fact I want to get to your mansion in the north not more than I do Madame said Sir Francis will Miss Stevens permit me to persuade her to shorten my period of probation to escape some of the disagreeables we have mentioned relative to this unhappy affair the wedding morning was arrived Sir Francis Barney had not been sparing of his ill-gotten gains he willingly made handsome presence to Mrs Fraser and Mary Stevens jewels were the form he gave them in and Sir Francis himself took care to display no small degree of ornament and yet he appeared to be a man who though wearing and having the best of all still wore but little ornament but the occasion made the change in his habit and now the post horses were ready at the door ready to bear them northwards they were at the church Sir Francis and Mary Stevens leaning upon his arm came before the altar and the friends of the bride were on either side of them the clergyman was about to read but asked first if any knew any causes or impediment etc to the marriage no answer was returned when there was some bustle at the other end of the church and the clergyman paused to ascertain its character in a moment more there was a motley group of persons making towards the altar and foremost among these were two or three peace officers and after them a woman dressed in many clothes which added to her natural obesity ah that's him that's the wagabon that said my house was on fire when it weren't that's him as frightened me so that I'm quite thin through it shiver my timbers and they begin to creak a bit now didn't leg out but that's Barney the vampire who to thought he would always be turning up in this way like an old mop as nobody can use Barney turned to the clergyman and begged that these mad people might be turned out and after the ceremony he would meet any proper accusation at a proper time and place but he showed his anger so strongly that Mary shrank back from him while the two officers demanded him as a prisoner the clergyman yielded and Sir Francis striking the officer near him down made a rush at the side door and escaped the fact was there had been more than one doubt about the murder and Sir Francis had been followed to the hotel the night of the murder by one of the waiters who came up behind him they took his shoes and found they were bloody and all things being traced home to him it was agreed to capture him at home but he had left for the church when the officers followed him old Admiral Bell who was gaudy happened to see him pass and determined to unmask him which he did End of Chapter 156 Recording by Tricia G Chapter 157 of Barney the Vampire Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Herndon Bell Barney the Vampire Volume 3 by Thomas Prescott Prest Chapter 157 The Murder in the Wood Del Noti A Neapolitan Scene There had been a great heat during the day even for the sunny shore of Naples not a cloud had been seen all day not a breath of air had been stirring all was golden sunshine all was fair the very sea glittered like molten gold and the heat was oppressive in the extreme so much so that even the Neapolitan themselves stirred not out of doors but sank listless and sleepy on the couch fanning themselves and endeavoring to create an air that would give some slight refreshment Even the sea was calm the very waves lashed the shore lazily and appeared to partake of the general weariness that came over all nature all things that moved There was no soul stirring in the villas that were seen dotted about the environs of Naples most of them like palaces surrounded on every side by gardens and fountains walled in and secure from the intrusion of a stranger There was one of great magnificence adjoining the small wood del note that reared its stately structure on a slope looking towards the sea though at a mile or two's distance but close adjoining the wood The gardens were extensive and abutted on the wood They were a cool and shady spot at most times and if such a one were now to be found it would certainly be found in the wood del note The trees grew tall and spread their branches out until they interlaced each other so completely that when the foliage was on them the light rarely found its way to the earth save in a dim and diluted form Here there might now and then be found who had been overtaken by the heat of the day or who from choice preferred the coolness of the woods to the walls of their houses Here, then, reposing beneath the great trees might occasionally be found a few individuals who slept in coolness and shade Near the wall of the villa where the wood ran were some tall black trees mostly fur and cedar there beneath one of the ladder gaunt looking man who notwithstanding the weather was wrapped up in a cloak of large dimensions in sable color There was something strange in that man's appearance Above all the cloak which he wore was a thing so much out of place that none other than himself could or would have worn it What was his motive none could divine were it not for the concealment of his person which seemed likely enough His slouched hat was bent over his eyes His face was scarcely distinguishable between the collar of the cloak and the hat though he lay on his back motionless and without heeding ought that neared him It was true there did not exist any reason why he should take any heed seeing that at that point no one ever came It was a spot that was not frequented having a bad name which usually deters people from trusting themselves in such a place However the stranger lay motionless and apparently without fear Perhaps it was the long two edged sword he wore that gave him his security at all events he lay there in silence and almost motionless quite and entirely so save the motion in breathing and his eye now and then turned in a particular direction The hours rolled by and no one approached till the sun sunk towards the ocean there to bury himself till another morrow appeared The heat of the high noon was passed and the shadows of the trees reduced the light in the wood to a twilight the stranger arose and stood beneath the shadow of a tall one while he appeared to be listening for some sound which he appeared to expect from some particular quarter of the wood The hour of noon is some hours passed and with it a gentle sea breeze begins to fan the heated shores and here and there might be seen some of the inhabitants creeping about in the shady places and from the quarter to which he appeared most to direct his attention he heard sounds proceed These were those made by persons walking over the dried leaves and sticks which lay scattered about from the effects of the storms that sometimes visit even these pleasant shores She comes he muttered and his eye glanced round out of his sword She comes but does she come alone He paused and again listened She comes not alone another is with her but no matter she shall come I have the means of security here but above all I need her He paused again and listened but quietly drew his sword which was long and sharp and stood beneath the tree while the voices and sounds slowly approached until they came quite distinct and audible And so said a man's voice but in a low key the Marquesa is not well She is quite indisposed I was about to say I could hardly feel it in my heart I read it And why could you be so unfeeling? Because, my dear Fiametta had she been well you would scarce have got away from her this evening and I should have had but little of your sweet company I admit that but were you not selfish in desiring it? Yes, I was And are you not ashamed to say so? No, I am not Fiametta I can acknowledge anything that concerns myself and you for I must admit a great deal of selfishness in this matter I love you tenderly and that puts all the world beside us I think nothing of anyone save you and for you I would sacrifice the whole world I am fearful of you And wherefore should you be fearful of me, fair one? Am I not willing and ready to fight and die for you? I would not fear the summons of death this moment if I knew that I could save you but one hour's pang I hope said Fiametta leaning on her lover's arm I hope that you will never be called upon for so sad a sacrifice I am sure I should never know an hour's happiness if I thought there was a possibility of it I do not think there is any possibility of that happening but Fiametta When do you hope for an end to this slavery? Can't you leave the old Marquesa? She is anything but kind to you and would marry you to one of her poor relatives and unless you marry with her consent you will never be rewarded for the many listless hours you have passed night after night at her bedside but she will reward me when she dies What an age to wait! Surely you cannot grudge her life I do not only so long as it is a term of imprisonment for you If you would leave her and come back with me I will make you happy You shall have a happy home and form new ties and new affections I have not got so tired of the old that it is necessary to change them but I cannot leave the Marquesa She is almost alone No one goes near her to do her a good office and I am her only friend and yet she won't give you liberty She says I am too young and if you must know all she says I am too pretty to be trusted in everybody's company I must admit there is much truth in that and yet I cannot see its application in this instance as far as I am concerned No that is not to be expected from you you know but this must be admitted that she speaks of men in general besides she says if I have patience to await her death she will handsomely endow me upon my word I think the old woman only wants to lease her life a few years longer or I should say wishes to live forever how can you make that appear thus when you are waiting for people's deaths you never do succeed in hearing of their dying within any reasonable space it gives them new life and the spirit of opposition and obstinacy is created within them and they won't die for shame nay you will find Fiametta that we shall both grow gray-headed in waiting for the happy moment when you and I are man and wife do not stay then any longer leave here and come with me we shall be happy and defy the world but look what a dowry I shall lose never mind about that such a dowry would not make you young again nor would it recall many years of past service and attendance upon her you must know how very precarious such a life must be it may so happen that you may forfeit all you have deserved to some fancy of this old woman she may take it into her head to insist upon your marrying her poor cousin there you know if you were to displease her she might very easily leave you nothing for your pains I admit all that but it amounts to nothing because she has said as much that she would never force me only she wished me to marry him as being a worthy man and one who would act justly to me through life justly through life what a sound it sounds but little of love justly indeed I would I could act no otherwise to others but to you Fiametta I should as soon think of forgetting you as merely acting justly I love you I would at this moment lay down my life for you at that moment they neared the stranger who was standing silently and motionless with his sword concealed beneath his cloak but eagerly watching them and devouring every word they uttered and by degrees they drew nearer and nearer I am sure it will be wise to wait a while I am sure the poor old Marquesa will not live long cannot eat and drink save with great difficulty I am sure we shall not have long to wait I am willing to abide by your wishes Fiametta but it cannot be well to wait for an age it cannot be well to wait till we are old I know that but Fiametta screamed as her eye fell upon the stranger who rushed out upon them with his sword drawn this gave her male companion herself by in the first instance jumping aside mercy mercy screamed Fiametta her lover drew his sword and put himself upon his defense saying as he parried the first thrust of his enemy villain what mean you is it robbery you would attempt or murder alone will nothing but shedding blood satisfy you the stranger made no reply but pressed on furiously and with great strength and skill for two or three minutes when Fiametta's lover by changing his ground contrived to elude so desperate an assault upon his life Fiametta however believed her lover was getting the worst of it she screamed out for help several times but none came however it caused the stranger to press his adversary more quickly with his own movements for he was quite desperate and furious but this laid him open to the assaults of the other but so fierce the attack and such was the strength exhibited that Fiametta's lover was compelled to give ground what is your object villain speak but the stranger spoke not but furiously threw himself upon him and endeavored to beat down his guard which his great strength and height almost enabled him to do but as the other gave ground he was obliged to follow him and then his foot caught against some of the tangled roots that grew out of the earth and threw him forward and his adversary not slow to profit by it and rid himself of so dangerous an enemy stepped forward and received him upon the point of his sword a good deliverance however drawing his sword out of the body as it fell to the earth a timely deliverance truly he wiped his forehead for the perspiration streamed down his face the day was warm and his exertion great oh say exclaimed Fiametta what a horrid man a brigand I suppose but he said nothing he asked nothing no he meant murder there is no doubt of it now in the world but I never saw such an ill looking wretch before as Jose spoke he kicked the hat and cloak off which the brigand wore and which remained partially on there was a ghastly wound in his breast where Jose's sword entered and let out the life of the stranger he was very tall but thin and emaciated his features remarkable and he wore some straight straggling hair that was disordered and fell over his forehead and face of more than marble paleness well I never met with such an encounter before and I never met with such an ill looking villain said Jose come away Fiametta we need not say anything to anyone fair I will not come here again though it may be needless to take the precaution seeing that none could be brought to match this fellow in villainy and ugliness at least it is so to my mind come away wiping his sword on the cloak of the fallen man and sheathing it he took the hand of Fiametta and drawing it through his arm left the spot chapter 157 chapter 158 of Varney the Vampire volume 3 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Bartholomew Frost Varney the Vampire volume 3 by Thomas Prescott-Prest chapter 158 the spot was deserted and no soul came near but the body lay with its ghastly wound all sopping in its gore it was a fitting place for such a scene as this no sound was heard and the lazy hours turned slowly over till the shades of evening came on apace the lights grew dim and the darkness increased but there the body of the tall remarkable looking stranger lay without motion it was cold and bloodless death had long since deprived it of its last spark of animation Jose and Fiametta quitted the neighborhood of the deed of darkness as quickly as they could and it was many minutes before either of them spoke so filled were their minds with the reflections natural too and consequent upon the strange occurrence that had just before fallen upon them at length Fiametta broke silence by saying oh Jose what a dreadful thing has happened truly it had like to have been a dreadful affair but it don't matter now he is settled I believe yes but you have killed a man truly my dear Fiametta I have killed a man or a devil I don't know which but that man would have killed me if I had not done so yes he would but how dreadful being the case it is in my opinion a very good job he is dead a very good job indeed he will be safe where he is but still said Fiametta crossing herself how dreadful it must be to be slain thus with all one's sins upon one's head what would have been my fate as bad and to me it would have been worse by far but still it's really dreadful to think that there should be a soul thus sent to heaven without so much as the good offices of a priest he would have killed me without giving me time for repentance he would have forced me to leave a world in which I have all happiness yet to know a world which I am by no means prepared to quit truly no Jose nor I but what a state for this man to be in he is so much the worst prepared that even you because his end was bad now you had no evil intention none you did not even know that you were in danger from him I did not Fiametta else I had never brought you there I cannot understand what brought him there what he wanted or why it was he made such a desperate attack upon me my life was aimed at it was Jose but have you no private enemy whom you believe capable of such a deed is this surely surely it cannot be done save from some motive that is the thing that the most puzzles me I cannot understand the motive I know him not I have no enemy who would hire an assassin but there let him and his deed lie buried in oblivion he has no burial he deserves none said Jose but dear Jose do you think we ought to give him one are we his executors or else God forbid but we saw him die and not for his sake but for the sake of human nature do not let us leave him unburied like a dog he may not deserve it but he was answered all his offence yes yes I admit he has been punished he paid to the uttermost all he owed me and I gave him a receipt in full he will never make another demand upon me I am done with each other I believe I shall never forget the horrible sight it will haunt me day and night I shall not be able to banish the terrible features from my mind I shall in truth pass a sad life I wish this had never happened why so do I dear Fiametta but surely you do not accuse me of wrong in having to save my life kill this man I was compelled forth to do it it was either his life or mine and the truth to tell I was never in such peril from any single sword in all my life and but for the lucky accident that laid him open I have not been here with you but where he is now thank God for your deliverance Jose but but what a revolting thing to remember that in the wood del note there lies a corrupting mass of humanity over which loathsome insects crawl a thing that had once been a living soul like ourselves but now alas what is he but Fiametta your grief appears misplaced you mourn this stranger as if he was near and dear to you do you know him not I said Fiametta sorrowfully then what have you to grieve about Fiametta tell me truly I have nothing to blame yourself with I do not feel I have acted wrongly say what it is that causes you so much sorrow I grieve to think that the body of that sinful and wicked man lies unburied and that no masses have been said for the repose of his soul if that be all that requires to set your mind at rest though the villain deserves it not I will see that he is buried and masses said for him will you indeed Jose upon my conscience I will see your desires executed well then Jose yonder lives a holy monk he is a pious and good man and will I am sure do all that is required watch and pray by the body till midnight and continue there until the sun shall loom the wood be it so my dear Fiametta be it so we will go to the holy man and tell him of our distress and will reward him and then I will see you in safety and return to conduct him to the spot where you know we left the body I would the villain had come by a less noble death than falling by the sword it will be danger that will never be forgotten by me said Fiametta nor by me replied Jose what that man meant I cannot conceive but there can be but one answer to the question he meant me robbery nothing else could have tempted him to draw his sword upon me why did he not demand your money at once because he might meet with what he has met and he took me at a disadvantage and of course gave him a better chance of killing me and running less danger in doing so I am not therefore surprised at it here is the holy father's residence he is poor very poor but with all he is very good he is a holy man then he will serve our turn the better for it would be in my opinion take something more than a scene to pray out of purgatory such a soul as his must be it must wing its way through space very much like a bat hush Jose hush not a word about that here's the holy man's boat shall I enter with you Fiametta if you will Fiametta stood by her lover's side while he knocked at the holy man's door and after a pause of about a minute a deep voice said who is it that knocks at my door he is one who needs your service as good father enter said the monk and the boat was withdrawn the door opened and Fiametta followed her lover into a hovel a rather bare room saved some stride in one corner and some few clothes beside which there were one or two articles of necessary use and convenience but there were very few indeed will my son what would stop does thou require my need to bind thee to this meadow and she to thee I do indeed wish so much but she is not willing not willing then why does thou come to me you see holy father as we were walking in the wood del note which I dare say you well enough no I do my son well I was talking to my companion heedless of danger nor dreaming any would be at hand when my attention was attracted to a spot on the right of me whence a man rushed upon me with Doron sword and attacked me I should not have had time to see him much less time to draw and defend myself but for the scream of her who was by my side I looked where I saw her look and saw him advancing and had time to spring back and draw did you kill your opponent as it fell that good father I did he rushed on and pressed me so hard that I had no alternative my life was in great danger and I could not rid myself of my enemy or preserve my own life except at the expense of his did you slay him I did another soul ushered into eternity said the monk gloomily how long will it be for the wickedness of men shall cease to bear such fruits but holy father I did but act lawfully enslaving my life it is only the law that the nature has implanted in us and can hardly be called wickedness since heaven itself gives us the power and impulse hold the E.P. my son thou know it's nothing of these matters therefore I say hold the E.P. and let me know what it is you desire of me that you will say masses for the repose of his soul and give him a Christian burial I do not like such a portion of humanity to remain where it is we would it were not entirely neglected of the pride of burial rites it is but a just of thee my son but I have known many who would not have neglected it all together and permitted the body of one of God's creatures to lie and rot like a dog my son you have done well and I will for your sake do mine office me holy father I cannot permit thee to do it wholly without giving the church some do and here in this purse you will find all I have I take it my son not for my own sake but for that of the church to whom belongs all that is offered her and this too holy father said Fiamitta giving a small purse take that and for my sake do what may be done by those on earth for those who have departed from it by a violent and sudden death I will daughter and now holy father said Jose if you will I am ready to take you to the spot where fell this man I will follow you my son said the monk concealing his two gifts beneath his garments but rising at the same time I follow thee they all left the place and the security's route to enable Jose to leave Fiamitta in the safety at the Marquis villa where she resides in half dependence being a distant relative of hers Jose led on the monk until he came to the spot where the stranger fell and where he yet lay just as he had fallen a ghastly corpse here holy father you see the catef a treacherous villain who has now been paid for his villainy for perhaps a life of villainy perhaps so my son it does not appear to have been formed by nature when in one of her most kindly moods but yet it might have been she impressed his character upon his feature as a warning to the rest of mankind it was so most likely but you see he is slain Fiamatta would never have known peace again unless the body was watched through the night by some holy man and prayed for that is what his desired holy father and now I will leave you to your task be the new ado and wishing your office a prosperous one and a pleasant night to watch by End of Chapter 158 Chapter 159 of Varney the Vampire Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Herndon Bell Varney the Vampire Volume 3 by Thomas Prescott Pressed Chapter 159 The Watch by the Dead Man's Side The Dead Alive The Death Struggle The Monk gazed after Hosea for some moments until he had vanished from his sight Even then he continued gazing upon the vacant space that he lately filled as if meditating in his own mind and quite unmindful of the present At length he turned and gazed upon the clay cold corpse before him There it lay in all its hideousness all its horrible reality The slouched hat was knocked off in the fall and the face was exposed to view Afe Maria muttered the monk telling his beads I never before saw so unfavorable a looking creature I pray heaven he may have been better favored in grace than in features that he may make a better appearance spiritually than bodily I would I had had time to speak with him before his spirit fled for I misdoubt me much of his salvation but I will not charge him with unknown sin That he muttered after a pause might indeed be quite unnecessary seeing his appearance and his deeds At least the only one I know of is of a light character or it otherwise I would be loath to doubt him but two such proofs are enough to damn the best spoken of being in all Christendom He paused again examined the features of the dead man but could not appear at all satisfied with the success of his ministry I would sooner have had some poor but honest corpse to watch by he said as he gazed upon the long white visage of the dead man whose leaden eye appeared fixed upon him I would he continued much sooner have had some early flower cut down before its prime I could have wept and prayed but this alas was but full grown iniquity I strongly fear it cannot be otherwise the monk sank down upon a tree alas what a sinner I am for uttering such a thought nay I am worse for conceiving such a thought and expressing it must be heinous to have such a one would be to cut off the most worthy instead of looking at the destruction of the full grown sinner in all his pride and moral deformity as being the full extent of the length he was permitted to go by divine wisdom and intelligence he has filled his measure of iniquity and the Lord has cut him off in the midst of his sins the monk now devoutly crossed himself and muttered several of his Ave Maria's and Peter Noster's and prayed in bad Latin for some time nearly an hour when he appeared to think he might be indulged in arrest from his theological labor and that his mind might refresh itself the monk arose and paced about the body for some minutes in solemn and deep wonder at the place chosen for such a deed a number of fresh thoughts now rushed through his mind as he assigned all possible motives for the deed that had been done or attempted to be done and also for the choice of spot but this speculation was more curious than useful time passed by and the hours rolled on and darkness came on a pace a heavy atmosphere seemed to hang over him and the light gradually faded away and the moon showed no light on that night it is dark muttered the monk but the Lord is my light and darkness has no fears for me I am in the discharge of the ministry and am safe the dead man lies quiet and still no sound comes tense he listened but no sound not the rustle of a leaf could be heard not a breath of air stirred all was silent and still no one sound disturbed the stillness of the night all was quiet it is a night of death said the monk to himself a night such as might be supposed to exist if the last man had ceased to live there was a weight in the air that appeared stronger and had an effect upon the monk and made a gloomy feeling come over him what ails me he said to himself I am not strong and confident as I am want to be the reverse I am doubting and very sad yet why should I be sad I a minister of religion I at all times am prepared to die or ought to be and yet there is the clinging after life as in all but I am mortal as other men are I have not all the motives for life they have I am alone in the world I am but a pilgrim who stay is short and who leaves behind him nothing to remember and no one to remember me it is better it is so than otherwise the monk paused again and approached the trunk of the tree upon which he sat in deep meditation for more than an hour without altering his posture or uttering a single word a whole hour passed thus now muttered the monk as if waking up from a profound meditation man is here but in a state of probation if he were not what would be the explanation of the checkered course he runs what the use of all the various stages he goes through during a long life and then to drop into rottenness at last why are we educated and improved if for any other purpose why should we spend years in improving ourselves only to be deprived of the jewel at last and to have it not only taken but destroyed no no it is for better use the monk's mind was evidently disturbed in regard to some speculation which had been suggested by the solitary moments of his watch at such times all the strange and inquiring thoughts that could be devised by man usually arise and enter his mind in strange doubts in fancies will supervene when all other thoughts have been banished and they take their place man's mind is always liable to these fanciful intrusions and will remain so while there is a single important assertion or circumstances existing incapable of positive and mathematical demonstration when all shall be clear and when there shall be no longer any play for the mind any room for imagination any possibility of conception left then doubt may be cleared up and the unanimity might be raised upon such a structure that never would be raised under any other circumstances whatever but as this is not likely to happen human doubt will exist more or less to all we shall none of us be freed from that great cause of all the calamities of races but to proceed with our narrative the monk looked around him he could however see nothing save the few trees near him but beyond that he was unable to see there was a strong mist up one that limited vision and left no room for any other object to shine through and diversify the scene I would, muttered the monk that the morning would come there's no light the moon is hidden no rays penetrate the dense air and all the while the air is close and muggy not a star out or luminary visible he looked upwards and found he could see the spot where the moon was striving to force its rays through some sinner stratum of the clouds but it was doubtful and the monk of very weariness began to count his beads and to repeat his petar nostres between wiles and alternately until he grew weary he wanted yet an hour of midnight and the night would not be passed for many hours and the monk thought that the nights were long it is cold he muttered but yet it is not midnight it is the moisture with which the air is loaded and thus it is cool more rapidly than it could have otherwise happened but it matters not to me if I were to lose my life I shall only be called home in my ministry therefore it matters not I am in the discharge of my duty and shall have the reward appropriate to the service a slight breeze sprung up and in a short time the mist was cleared off and not a cloud was to be seen on the horizon there might be seen the moon rising slowly and majestically while a gentle and diffused light shed its influence throughout the wood of course its direct rays could not enter until it had risen to its full height ha! said the monk now I shall be relieved of some of the terrors of my watch it will cease to be so tedious and so long but no matter I am content quite content soon I shall be able to see the body and then I will close its eyes I had forgotten to do so before but it is time enough Peter Noster again began the monk until he came to the last word the light was enough to enable him to discover the body plainly then he knelt down by its side to pray and gazed on its features I see its eyes are glaring wildly I no wonder no wonder he met with a sudden painful and violent death poor airing mortality what an end to come to but alas what can men expect he who lives by the sword will die by the sword the monk closed the eyes of the dead man and pulled the cloak which lay open over him and then leaned back against a tree and shut his eyes for a moment but they did not remain long shot for some fancy noise he was out of a train of speculation he was indulging in he moves not he muttered however he knelt down by the side of the body and began to repeat his Peter Noster again and for a few moments shut his eyes as if he had no service for them and continued his prayers without intermission the moon's rays now came with their full effulgence and the forest appeared like some enormous piece of lattice work for the moon's rays were able to penetrate the leaves and branches of many of the trees the moon-beams at length fell upon the body of the dead man and he got slowly up until he rested on his elbow with his face towards the moon and the monk who yet remained kneeling was still praying with his eyes wholly shut ha! grown stranger the monk stopped in his prayer started and opened his eyes which were fixed in an extremity of terror and horror upon the apparition before him he was entranced and had no power to remove his eyes ha! said the figure slowly rising to a sitting position but at the same time immediately facing the unfortunate and wretched monk who was prostrated by fear ha! grown the figure by a strange effort my god my god exclaimed the monk save me save me he endeavored to rise but shook so much he could not do it for the figure kept its horrible eye fixed upon him and he shook violently but after a while he contrived to say scarcely audible though a vaunt Satan I command thee the figure he did it not but took some ominous proceedings by laying its hands upon the monk's shoulder but this had the effect of releasing him from his spell and he sprang to his feet exclaiming the lord of hosts aid me the figure replied not but rising without taking his hand off a deadly struggle ensued between the two which lasted some minutes the monk being driven desperate resisted with great strength but he had one to deal with whose strength was far beyond his and he felt himself gradually sinking till after another effort which ended in a wild shriek he was forced on his knees in this posture the strange man seized him by the throat which he compressed and thrust his knees into his chest until the unfortunate and wretched man was quite dead and senseless it was some minutes before the stranger who had so newly risen from the dead let go of the grasp he had of the monk's throat he held him firmly by the throat by both hands but as he stood grasping him his face was turned upwards towards the moon's rays which fell upon his breast and features in so much that he appeared to gain strength at every breath he drew but what a ghastly face he wore a death-like paleness spread over his forehead the terrible-looking eyes appeared to throw back the light of the moon much the same as its rays are reflected by glass the unfortunate monk was partially kneeling his back forced against the trunk of the tree upon which he had been sitting his face turned upwards and his eyes almost bursting from their sockets while his hands convulsively grasped those of his enemy but his strength decreased as that of the other increased his cowl fell off and his bare head was exposed to the moonlight there was a death-like pause and the figure slowly released its hold upon this throat of the monk and stepped back a pace or two to look upon his work the monk's body retained the posture given to it by the efforts to extinguish his life and appeared as though his muscles had rigidly set in death but the trunk of the tree itself had sufficient support dead muttered the figure dead again he moved about and went into an open space where the moonlight came uninterruptedly without any barrier and from this spot he surveyed the hideous work of his hands dead, dead muttered the figure this was undoubtedly true and yet there remained the body of the monk which, but for the turn of the head and its face upwards it might be easily supposed that he had died in the attitude of devotion or supplication but as it was it was evident by what means he had come to his death I must have a victim muttered the stranger am I always to meet with the pangs of death but to renew such a life on such a term never to obtain a renewal without the pangs of death and why because I have not been able to obtain the very consent of one that is young beautiful and a virgin I might then for a season escape the dreaded alternative he walked round and round the body of the monk for some time and then he came and sat down by its side upon the trunk of the tree and appeared lost in contemplation but at length he looked at the body saying I, I, I have a plan the church has furnished many a victim let it furnish me with one the church will furnish the sacrifice and will give me the means of obtaining the offering well and good it shall be done he arose and walked about the body once more and then approached it having apparently made up his mind he came to it saying I will become a monk too of the most holy order of St. Francis yes, that will serve me well enough I will take his cassock it will serve my turn and be a ready introduction to the religious world I am the good monk Francis myself my learning and sanctity is great it will carry all before it and I shall be in great request it will indeed be strange if there be no fruit upon such a tree I am sure I shall deserve it he seized the body and pulled off the monk's clothing and quickly apparelled himself in it leaving the body as if fell by the side of the tree and having thrown his own clothes on one side he drew the cowl over his head and seizing the staff he brought with him he was about to leave the spot but a sudden sort occurred to him and he turned back and began to rummage among the pockets of the monk these churchmen I have heard never travel without something of value about them and his gold, if he have any may as well be mine as anyone else's who may be passing this way he found the two purses that had been given him by Fiametta and José and some that he had beside moreover there were some letters and papers which he put in his pocket merely observing these will enable me to pass for the character I assume successfully I am and will be a monk I will strive and confess poor deluded souls and send them on their eternal journeys a ghastly and hideous smile on his face and having burdened himself with what he thought necessary or worthwhile he quitted the spot there were two convents or nunries near the city of Naples at some short distance apart from each other one was the convent of St. Mary Magdalene and the other was the convent of St. Cecilia about a mile and a half apart or perhaps more some said a league and so it was by the road a direct line it was late one evening when the great bell of the convent of St. Mary Magdalene gave warning from without that someone demanded admission the superior of the convent a woman far advanced in age and somewhat proud of her character had not little disposed to personal comfort was much annoyed at the sound which gave some promise of trouble well muttered the portraits rose from before a fire and tottered towards the gate looking for the iron grating for the object that disturbed her in her meditations and her devotion to the good things that Providence had found her with well what do you want I am a poor travelling brother of the order of St. Francis I am benighted and I wish for a lodging and food friend, brother of St. Francis this is at a later hour at which we open our gates to strangers they little think at Rome said the monk that to obtain a shelter we have to get to the gates of a holy house before a certain time and those who most need shelter because it is less to be had must wait and perish in the cold the gates are shut I see it and the abyss has got the keys will she not give me a shelter and food I may not ask her I must then remain here outside the walls until the morning and then I will wind my way back to the holy city where I will say their messenger could not obtain rest and shelter at the convent here do you come from Rome I do and do you refuse to tell your abyss an unworthy brother of Holy St. Francis is here and waiting for admission the portraits made no reply she was by far too indignant to make an answer and yet too fearful to refuse to do his bidding for he spoke in a peremptory tone that indicated an authority beyond what was usual in his appearance she therefore found her way to the lady abyss to whom she began with every expression of submission and respect my lady said the portrait there is one without who wants to come in well said the abyss you can't let him in I told him so replied the portrait but you would hardly credit it what he said about the holy pilgrim from Rome stepping outside the gate all night and returning to the holy city and speaking of our inhospitality did he said the abyss say so much he did then let him in said the abyss let him in said the portrait opening her eyes very wide and repeating the words let him in yes do as we bid you said the abyss yes replied the portrait certainly whatever our holy superior orders it is for me to obey I do your bidding away went the holy portrait to discharge her spleen in privacy and at the same time unable to account for the orders given her she returned to the portal she unbarred the gate she drew the boats and turned the lock and opening the door stood for the monk to enter come in she said what do you mean do you not want to come in am I free to enter wherefore do I hold the gate open for pleasure no sister said the monk through anger I believe but if you can find it in your conscience to be angry because I am at the door I will give you this trouble what will be the feelings of Saint Peter who keeps the gates of heaven when you present yourself there at a hungry being and airing sinner but peace be upon this place amen said the portrait at that moment one of the nuns came from the superior of the convent saying holy father when you have rested and refreshed yourself our worthy abyss will be glad to converse with you I am even now at her commands said the holy man will you not taste food and rest yourself I never tire or need food when I have ought to do that in any way concerns our religion but holy father the body needs refreshment it can be supported upon spiritual food alone if the Lord wills said the monk crossing himself most divinely you must have great gifts holy father not I but he that sent me said the monk solemnly will you follow me holy man and I will lead you to the abyss who will be right glad to speak with you she wishes to speak to one lately come from the holy city you can tell her news of the holy father I can my sister then come this way said the nun and quickly led the way to the abyss till he was lost sight of by those in the waiting room end of chapter 160