 Chapter 213 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 Chris Caron. Varney, the Vampire, Volume 3. By Thomas Prescott Priest. Chapter 213. The Alarm from the Belfry. The Beetle in a Quandary. The Belfry, cried Will Stevens. Oh, if I could reach the Belfry. He went stumbling on, now falling, then gathering himself up again to renewed. Exertions for the stairs were steep and narrow. And although the little church tower was by no means very high, yet the place where the bell hung was not to be reached in a moment. Perseverance, however, will do wonders. And it was reached at last. Yes, he stood, painting, in a little square building, in the very center of which hung a thick rope. It was the means of tolling the bell, to seize it was the work of a moment. The bell swung around, and its iron tongue gave forth a loud and stunning sound. Again and again, bang, bang, bang, went the bell. And then, feeling that at all events, he had given an alarm. Will Stevens turned to retrace the steps. He was half stupefied by his previous fears. The noise of the bell, so close as he had been to it, had been stunning and bewildering. And Will Stevens, reeled like a drunken man. The ale too might have a little to do with that. Certainly he made a false step, and down he went head foremost, from top to bottom of those old steep narrow bell fry stairs. Will Stevens was right when he considered that the tolling of the bell would give an alarm. Most persons in the neighborhood were awakened by it, and they listened to the seven or eight peeling sounds in surprise. What could they mean, who was doing it? It could not be fire, oh dear no. The alarm would not leave off it were somebody dead. Ah yes, it was some great person in the state dead, and the news had been brought there. And so the bell was told, and we shall hear all about it in the morning. And so those who had been awakened went to sleep again, and the unhappy sexton was left to his fate, at the foot of the little stairs leading up to the bell fry, where he had gone, with so much trouble, and produced so little effect. The long weary hours of the night crept on, and at last the faint dawn of early morning showed itself upon the ocean, and in faint streaks of light in the glowing east. The fishermen began to ply their hazardous and hardy trade. The birds in the gardens, and in the old lime and new trees that shaded the churchyard, shook off their slumbers. Gradually the light advanced, and a new day began. But there lay poor Stevens, the victim of what he had seen and heard in the old church, and he was doomed to lie sometime longer yet. There was a Mr. Anthony Dory, who was a parish beetle, and he had awakened, and heard the sound of the tolling of the well-known bell. I say Mother Dory, he said, to better half. What's that? How should I know, idiot? Was the polite rejoinder? Oh, very good. You had better get up and see. Oh, dear no, it's no business of mine. Master Wiggins is the bell ringer. I dare say it's something, though. There is a wise conclusion for the beetle to come to, and he turned to go to sleep again, which was wise likewise, only more easy in the conception than in the execution, for his mind was more disturbed than he had, though it possible anything could disturb it, by the tolling of the bell. Whenever he found himself just going off to sleep, he jumped awake again, quite wide, crying, Hey, hey, was that the bell? This sort of thing, varied by a great number of punches in the ribs from Mrs. Dory, went on until the morning had sufficiently advanced to make it quite light enough to see objects with ordinary distinctness, and then, fancying that all his attempts to sleep would be futile, the vexed beetle rose. I can't sleep. That's a clear case, he said. So I will go and see what the bell was told for at such an odd time of the night. The more I think of it, the more I don't know what to think. Full of this resolution, he went post-haste to Mr. Wiggins, and not loudly at his cottage door. Hello, hello, Wiggins. Well, said Wiggins, looking out of his bedroom window with his head picture-squilly, adorned by a red-night cap. Well, what's the matter now? That's what I want to know. Why did you tell the bell in the middle of the night? I told the bell. Yes, to be sure I heard it. Yes, and I heard it too. But it was none of my tolling, and if I had not been rather indisposed, Mr. Dory, I should have got it myself and seen what it was all about. As it is you, you find me cleaning myself rather early. I'll wait for you then, said Dory. Wiggins soon made his appearance, and he and Dory walked off together to the church, much pondering as they went on upon the mysterious circumstance that took them there. For if neither had wrung the bell, they could not think who had, for although the name of Will Stevens certainly occurred to them both, they thought it about one of the most unlikely things in the world that he would take the trouble to reform upon the great bell in the middle of the night. When it was none of his business to do so under any circumstances whatever. Nonsense, said the beetle. I hardly ever knew him do a very civil thing. Nor I, either. So you may depend, neighbor Dory. It's not him. It's a great mystery, neighbor Wiggins. That's what it is, and nothing else. I hope it don't bode none of us no harm, that's all. Times are quite bad enough. There's no doubt anything happening to make them worse. This sentiment, as any grumbling one always is, was exceeded to by the beetle, and so they went on conversing until they reached the church door, and then the surprise of finding the smaller entrance opened struck them. And they stood staring at each other for some moments in profound silence. There's somebody here, said Wiggins at last, in course. What shall we do, Mr. Dory? Do you think it's our duty to go in and see who it is or run away? You and I ain't a constable, but you are, so perhaps it alters the case, so far as you are concerned, you see. Not at all. You are a strong man, Mr. Wiggins, a very strong man. But suppose we try to make someone answer us. Here goes. The beetle advanced close to the threshold of the door, and in as loud a tone of voice as he could command, he said, Ahem, ahem. Helloa, helloa. What are you at there? Come, come. I'm down upon you. What do they say, inquired Wiggins? Nothing at all. Then perhaps it's nobody. Well, do you know, if I thought that I'd go in at once like a roaring lion, I would, and show him who I was. Ah, so would I, so would I. After listening for some short time longer, most intently and hearing nothing, they came to the conclusion that although someone had evidently been there, there was no one there now, so it would be quite safe to go into the church, always taking care to leave the door open, so that in the event of any alarm they could run away again, with all the precipitation in the world. It certainly was not one of the most hazardous exploits in the whole history of chivalrous proceedings to enter a church in daylight, as it then was in search of someone who it was very doubtful with there. But to have seen upon the beetle and Mr. Wiggins, anybody would have thought them bound upon an enterprise of life or death, and the latter the most likely of the two by a great deal. Ahem, cried Mr. Jory again. We are two strong, bold fellows, and we have left our six companions, all six feet high at the door, ahem. No effect was produced by this speech, which Mr. Jory, fully intended, should strike terror into somebody, and after a few minutes' search, they both felt convinced that there was no one hidden in the lower part of the church, and there was only the gallery to search. And yet that was a ticklish job. For the nearer they approached, the belfry, of course the nearer they approached the spot from which the alarm had been given, it was therefore with rather a backwardness in going forward, that they both slowly proceeded up the staircase and finally reached the gallery, where they saw no one, and much to their relief, the want of any discovery was. It's all right, said the beetle. There's nobody here. Oh, how I do wish the rascals had only stayed. That's all. I'd shown them what a beetle was. I oughta took them up in a twinklin'. I would. Lord bless you, Mr. Wiggins. You don't know what a desperate man I am, but when I'm put to it, that you don't. Perhaps not, but there don't seem to be any danger. Not the least, eh, eh? Oh, the Lord have mercy upon us. I give in. What's that? Take my everything, but oh, spare my life. Oh, oh, oh, this panic of the beetles was all owing to hearing somebody give a horrible groan. Such a groan that it was really dreadful to hear it. Mr. Wiggins, too, was much alarmed and lent upon the front rail of the gallery. Looking dreadfully peril and wan, the beetle's face looked quite of a purple hue, and he shook in every limb. I, I thought I saw a groan, he said. So, so did I. Oh, look. Then don't you hear a horrible bundle up in that corner. Oh, mercy. I begin to think we are as good as dead men. That we are. Oh, that we are. What will become of us? By this time, Will Stevens, who the reader is aware, was there to make the groan, had got up from the foot of the belfry's stairs, and he began to drag his bruised and stiffened frame towards the beetle and Mr. Wiggins, which they no sooner perceived than they set off as hard as they could scamper from the place, crying out for help as if they had been pursued by a thousand devils. In vain, Stevens called after them. They did not hear his voice, nor did they stop in their headlong flight until they reached the door of the clergymen, concerning whose power to banish all evil spirits into the Red Sea. They had a strong belief. And as the Reverend Gentleman was at breakfast, the first thing they both did was to rush in and upset the tea-tree, which the servant had just brought in. End of Chapter 2, 13. Chapter 2, 14 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 2, 14. The clergymen's visit to the vault. Rescue of the Sexton. What the devil sounds! Yes, that was what the parson said. With all due respect for his cloth, we cannot help recording the fact that the words at the commencement of this chapter were precisely those that came from the lips of the Reverend Gentleman, upon the occasion of the sudden and rather alarming eruption of the beetle and the bell-ringer into his breakfast-parlor at the parsonage. We beg your pardon, sir, said the beetle, but— Yes, sir, we beg your pardon, added the bell-ringer, but— What, cried the parson, as he looked at the remains of his breakfast lying upon the hearth-rug in most admired disorder at his feet. The bell, sir, the church, the gallery, a groan, a ghost, a lot of ghosts. Such were the incoherent words that came thick as hail from the beetle and the bell-ringer, in vain the clergyman strove to get to the rights of the story. He was compelled to wait until they were both very nearly tired out, and then he said, Very well, I don't understand, so you may both go away again. But, sir, but, sir, if one of you will speak while the other listens, I will attend, and not otherwise. This is Sunday morning, and I neither can nor will waste any more time upon you. Nothing is so terrible to a professed storyteller, and the beetle was something of that class, as to tell him that you won't listen to him. So Mr. Dory at once begged that Wiggins would either allow him to tell what had happened, or tell it properly himself. Mr. Wiggins gave way, and the beetle, as diffusely as possible, told the tale of the bell tolling, and the visit to the church with the awful adventure that there occurred. What do you think of it, sir? He concluded by asking. I have no opinion formed as yet, replied the clergyman, but I will step down to the church now, and see. You'll take plenty of people with you, sir. Oh, dear no, I shall go alone. I don't gather from what you have said that there is any danger. Your own fears, too, I am inclined to think, have much exaggerated the whole affair. I dare say it will turn out, as most of such alarms usually do, some very simple affair indeed. The parson took his hat and walked away to the church as coolly as possible, leaving Mr. Dory and Mr. Wiggins to stare at each other, and to wonder, at a temerity, they could not have thought it possible for any human being to have practiced. But the clergyman was supported by a power of which they knew little, the power of knowledge, which enabled him at once in his own mind to divide the probable from the impossible, and therefore was it that he walked down to the church fully prepared to hear from somebody a very natural explanation of the mysterious bell-ringing in the night, which was the only circumstance that made him think that there was anything to explain, for he had heard that himself. When he reached the sacred building he found the door open, as the beetle and the bell-ringer had left it, and the moment he got into the body of the church he heard a voice say, Help! Help! Will nobody help me? Yes, he replied. Of course, I will. Oh, thank heaven. Where are you? Here, sir. I think that's your voice, Mr. Bevan. Ah, and I think that's your voice, Will Stevens. I thought this would turn out some very ordinary piece of business. So you are upstairs, and did you ring the bell in the night? I did, sir. Just so. Come down, then. I'm afraid I can't, sir. Without some help I have had a very bad fall, and although, thank God, no bones are broken, I am sadly shaken and bruised, so that it is with great pain, sir. I can crawl along, and as forgetting down the stairs, why, I, I rather think I couldn't by myself if there was a hundred-pound note waiting for me below, just for the trouble of fetching, sir. Very well, I'm coming. Don't move. Mr. Bevan ascended the staircase, and without a bit of pride, as Will Stevens said afterwards in telling the story, helped the bruised sexton down the gallery steps to the body of the church, and then he made him sit down on one of the forms and tell him all that had happened, which Will did from first to last quite faithfully, not even omitting how he had stayed rather late at the ale-house, and how terrified he had been by the curious events that took place while he was in the church, ending by his fall from the stairs leading up to the bel-free. Will, Will, said Mr. Bevan, the ringing of the bell is good proof that you have been in the bel-free, but you will scarcely expect me to believe a remainder of your dream. Dream, sir? Yes, to be sure. You surely don't think now in broad daylight that it is anything else, do you? I—I don't know, sir. Of course, sir. If you say it's a dream, why—why? There, that will do. I will convince you that it was nothing more, or else you will go disturbing the whole neighbourhood with this story, that it is quite a mercy I have first heard. Convince me, sir? Yes, come with me to the vault. Will Stevens shrunk from this proposal, and his fear was so manifest that Mr. Bevan was, at all events, convinced that he had told him nothing but what he himself believed, and accordingly he felt still more anxious to rid Will of his nervous terror. You surely, he said, cannot be timid while I am with you. Come at once, and if you do not find that the late Miss Crofton, poor girl, is quiet enough in her coffin, I promise you upon my sacred word that I will never cease investigating this affair and bringing it to some conclusion. Come at once before any curious persons arrive at the church. So urgent a request from the clergyman of the parish to Will Stevens, the sexton of the parish, almost might be said to amount to a command. So Will did not see how he could get out of it without confessing an amount of rank cowardice that even he shrunk from. Well, sir, he said, of course with you I can have no objection. That's right, come along. There are means of getting a light into the vestry. Wait here a moment. Will would not wait. He stuck close by Mr. Bevin, who went into the vestry and soon procured a candle, lighted from materials he kept there, under lock and key, and they went together to the vault, the stone of which was just as it had been left when Will emerged with so much fright. I will go first, said Mr. Bevin. Thank you, sir. The clergyman descended and Will Stevens followed trembling about two stairs behind him. Little did he expect when he emerged from that vault previous to his adventures in the church that he should revisit it again so quickly. Indeed he had made a mental resolve that nothing should induce him to go down those stairs again and yet there he was actually descending them. So weak are the resolutions of mortals. Needs must thought Will when the parson, I mean, drives. Come on, Will, said Mr. Bevin. Will looked about him, but no coffin-lit was visible. There was Miss Crofton's coffin in its proper niche with the lid on and looking as calm and undisturbed as any respectable coffin could look. Will was amazed. He looked at the coffin and he looked at the parson and then he looked uncommonly foolish. Never mind it, Will, said Mr. Bevin. Never mind it, I say. The story need go no further. You can keep your own counsel if you like. You have come here under the influence of strong ale and you have gone to sleep most likely in this very vault and in your sleep, having a very vivid dream, you have walked up into the gallery and thence into the belfry where no doubt you did ring the bell under the influence of your dream and then you fell down the belfry stairs, I believe, as you say you did. Ah, said Will, bless you, sir. It may be so, but you are not convinced? Not quite, sir. Well, Will, you are quite right never to pretend to be convinced when you are not. I do not blame you for that, but in a short time, when the effect of the affair has worn off, you will entertain my opinion. I hope, sir, I may. That will do. Now the stone must be put over this vault. Sir, if you wouldn't mind, sir. What, Will? Staying a moment or two, while I empty the bag of saw-dust on the floor, sir, I shan't be a minute. No, not half a minute. And then I shall have done with the vault altogether, I hope, sir. Very well. Will set to work, and although at any other time he would have been rather ashamed of letting Mr. Bevan see what a wonderfully small quantity of saw-dust made up a guineas worth, superior considerations now prevailed, and he would not have spared the clergyman's company on any account. Now I've done, sir. Very well. Follow me. Will did not like to ask the clergyman to follow him, so in that difficulty, for as to his remaining behind it was out of the question, he made a rush and reached the church before Mr. Bevan could ascend two of the steps. When that gentleman did reach the church, he made no remark about the precipitancy and apparent disrespect of Will, for he put it down to its right cause, but he left the church in order to make the usual preparations for the morning service, which would now commence in an hour and a half. Will walked home with his empty bag, for the little exercise he had had was placed to convince him that he was not so much hurt as he thought, and that the stiffness of his limbs would soon pass away. It's all very well, he said to himself, for Mr. Bevan to talk about dreams, but if that was one, nothing real has ever happened to me yet. That's all. End of Chapter 214 Chapter 215 of Barney the Vampire Volume 3 This is a Leapervox recording. All Leapervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Leapervox.org. Barney the Vampire Volume 3 By Thomas Prescott Prest Chapter 215 The Young Lovers' Midnight Watch Did the clergyman really think what he said? Had he no suspicions that, after all, there was a something more even than he was quite willing to admit in the story told by Will Stevens? We shall see in good time, but at all events, one thing is evident, that the parson thought it good sound policy, and it was, to endeavor to nip the thing in the head, and by ascribing it to a dream, put it down as a subject of speculation in the place. He knew that nothing could be more dangerous than allowing any such story to pass current as a wonderful fact, and well he knew that in a short time, if such were the case, it would receive so many additions and so many embellishments, that the mischief it might produce upon the mind of an ignorant population might be extreme and of a most regretful character indeed. All this he felt hourly, and therefore Will Stevens's story was to be put down as a dream. Now Mr. Bevan, it will be recollected, had urged Will to keep his own counsel and to say nothing of the affair to anyone, but he had faint hopes only that Will would do that. The story faint hopes indeed, for after all he, Will, was the hero of the story, and there would be a something extremely gratifying in telling it, and in stating what he would have done, had not his foot slipped as he came down the narrow stairs from the old belfry, and so completely stunned him by the fall. Mr. Bevan therefore had very few, if any, compunctions in adopting the course he did, which was in the evening, when there was no service at the church, to call at the Grange to see Sir George Crofton upon the subject. Mr. Bevan was always a welcome guest at the Grange, and he was on those intimate and good terms with the family, that he could always call whenever he pleased, so that a mere announcement of his presence by no means had the effect of preparing Sir George for any communication. Ah, Mr. Bevan, he said, when the clergyman entered the room. I am glad to see you. And I to see you, Sir George. You come to a house of mourning, Sir, but that will be the case here for a long, long time. Time may and Will, no doubt, do much to assuage our grief, but the blow is as yet too recent. Tears started to the eyes of Sir George Crofton, as he made this allusion to his daughter, and he turned his head aside to hide such evidences of emotion from the parson, from whom, however, he need have expected nothing but the most friendly sympathy that one human being could bestow upon another. Mr. Bevan was a man of refinement and consideration, and he let grief always have its way, seldom doing more than merely throw out, in the form of a suggestion for consideration, as it were, that death was not the great evil it was thought to be. In such a way he generally succeeded in bringing persons, smarting under the infliction of the loss of dear friends and relations, much sooner to proper sense of the subject than if he had indulged in all the canting religious exhortations that some divines think applicable to such occasions. Sir George Crofton was alone, for his two sons had gone for a stroll in the grounds. Ringwood, who still remained with the family, was in the library, where now he passed most of his time, in trying, by reading, to withdraw his mind from a too painful and fixed contemplation of his loss. He was still weak, but might be considered now quite convalescent. Pray be seated, Mr. Bevan, said Sir George. Believe me, I take it very kindly of you to come so often. Pray, dear sir, don't say another word about it. I—I am very sorry to feel myself obliged to allude to anything of an uncomfortable nature. Think nothing of doing so, my friend. Think nothing of it. I have a master grief which drowns all others. But it is concerning that master grief, sir, that I come to speak. Indeed. Yes, sir, will you kindly hear me? Certainly, certainly. You told me on the day following the melancholy death of your daughter, as a friend, the peculiar circumstances attendant upon that death. Now I do not mean to say that what I am going to relate to you has any connection at all with those circumstances, nor would I tell you what I come to tell at all, were I not fearful that the same story, with some of the usual exaggerations of ignorance, would reach you from other quarters, for it is not a matter consigned to my bosom only, or there it should remain. You alarmed me. That I feared, but deeply regret. Listen to me, and remember always as you do so, that I think the whole affair is a mere dream, a deserved slumberer's vision, nothing more. Sir George Crofton did listen, with breathless eagerness, and Mr. Bevin, without detracting anything or adding anything to the narrative of Will Stevens, told him the whole story, just as Will had told it to him, concluding by saying, That is all, my dear sir, and I felt that my duty powerfully called upon me was more informant upon the subject, simply that we might be forewarned against any coarse version of the story. Sir George drew a long breath. More horrors, more horrors. Nay, why should you say that? Is it not so? Nay, I have already given my opinion by saying that I look upon the whole affair as but the phantasma of dream. Oh, Mr. Bevin, do not trifle with me. Is that really and truly your opinion, sir, or only said from kindness to me? It is the best opinion that I can come to. I thank you, sir, I thank you. Clara, Clara, my child, my child. The old man was overcome with grief, and at the interesting moment Ringwood entered the room with a book in his hand. He was astonished as well he might be to see such a fearful relapse of grief on the part of Sir George Crofton, and he looked from him to Mr. Bevin and from Mr. Bevin to him for some few moments in silence. And then he said, Surely all here have suffered enough and there is no new calamity come upon this house. Tell him all, cried Sir George. Tell him all, it is fit that he should know. He is one of us now. He loved my child and loves her memory still. I pray you, Mr. Bevin, to tell all to Ringwood, for I have not the heart to do so. I wonder, said Ringwood, calmly, to hear you speak thus. I wonder to see that any new grief can come so near to that which we have already suffered. The image of my lost one fills up each crevice of my heart. I shall listen to you, Mr. Bevin, with respect, but my grief, I fear, is selfish and cannot feel more than its own miseries. Ringwood seemed to imagine what the parson had to say referred to something with which Clara had nothing to do, but when, as the story proceeded, he found how intimately connected she was to the affair. His cheek flushed for a moment and then grew of a death-like paleness and he sat trembling and looking in the face of Mr. Bevin as he proceeded with his most strange relation. When he had concluded Ringwood gave a deep groan. You are much affected, sir, said Mr. Bevin. Crushed, crushed was the reply. Oh, God! Hey, now this is not manly, sir. You feel this thing too much. If you are so crushed, how can anyone expect that from you is to proceed the necessary exertion to prove that the story in all its particulars is but a falsehood? Ringwood caught at this idea in a moment. Exertion from me, he said, what exertions would I not make to prove such a horror to be the creation of the fancy? What would I not do? What would I not suffer? You have warned me, sir. Yes, I have a duty to do. A duty to Clara's memory. A duty to use, sir George. And a duty to myself. For did I not love her and does not her gentle image still sit in my inmost heart enshrined? I will prove that this most monstrous story is a delusion. Bear with me, gentlemen. I must think. Tomorrow you shall know more, but not until tomorrow. He rose and left the room. What does he mean? said Sir George vagantly. I cannot tell you, sir, but wait until tomorrow. Perhaps by then he may have proposed some plan of action that you or I may not think of. You will use your own discretion in uniting the strange affair to your sons or not, sir. Upon such a point as family confidence I never venture an opinion. Allow me to call upon you tomorrow morning, sir, when I hope to find you in better spirits. The clergyman would not have been in such haste to leave, sir George, but as he saw Ringwood leave the room, that young man made a sign to him to see him before he left, and accordingly Mr. Bevan was anxious to know what it was he had to say to him. When he left Sir George he asked a servant where Mr. Ringwood was, and being told he was in the library, Mr. Bevan, being quite familiar with the house, followed him there at once and found him pacing that apartment in great agitation and with disordered steps. Thank heaven you have come, sir, cried Ringwood. Tell me, oh tell me, what would you advise me to do, Mr. Bevan? I think, replied the clergyman, you have already half decided upon a course. I have, I have. Then follow it, if it be such a one, as in its result, will produce a conviction of the truth. Do not, Mr. Ringwood, allow anything to turn you from a course which you feel to be right. You will always find strength enough to persevere if you have that strong conviction upon you. What is your plan? It is this night to watch in the church. Be it so, I will, if you like, keep watch with you. Oh no, no, let me be alone. All I ask of you, sir, is to provide me with the means of sacred edifice at midnight. That I will do. You shall have a private key that I have for my own use. You can let yourself in without anyone knowing of your presence. But do you think you have nerve enough to go alone? If you have the smallest doubt or hesitation, let me accompany you. No, no, I thank you. But let me go alone and say nothing of this to sir George. I had it in my mind when I told him I would speak to him tomorrow about what you had communicated. I would feign if these horrors be really true, keep him in ignorance that I have verified them. But if I keep my night watch quite undisturbed, then he shall have the satisfaction of knowing that it has been so kept. You are right in that. I will send the key to you in the course of another hour. And remember I am at your service if you should alter your mind and wish for company. Do not hesitate about disturbing my rest. End of chapter 215 Chapter 216 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 Press Chapter 216 The Horrors of the Grave of Frightful Adventure One would have thought that young Ringwood might with effect and with discretion have disclosed his plan of watching in the old church to one of the brothers of Clara, but he shrunk from doing that. In the first place he thought he should be put down as a visionary and one who was disposed to insult the memory of Clara by imagining that the story of the sextant could be true and in the second place if anything did happen he was afraid that the feelings of the brother might clash with his. No, he said, I will go alone. I will not rest again until I have thoroughly satisfied myself that this tale is but a fabrication of the fancy. Clara, can it be possible? No, no, the thought is by far too, too horrible. It may really be considered a fortunate thing that the communication of the clergyman was made in the evening for had it been earlier in the day the hours of frightful anxiety which Ringwood would have endured until the night came must have been most painful. As it was, however, the hours that would elapse ere he could venture to go to the church on his strange and melancholy errand were not many and they passed the more quickly that during some of them he was making up his mind as to what he should do. Yes, Clara, my best beloved Clara, he said, I will rescue your sweet memory from this horrible doubt that is cast upon it and I will join you in the tomb. Welcome, a thousand times welcome death rather than that I should live to think that you are God, no, no, I cannot pronounce the dreadful word. Oh, what evil times are these and what a world of agony do I endure. But courage, courage, let fancy sleep, I must not allow my imagination sufficiently excited to play me any pranks tonight. Be still, my heart, and let me go upon this expedition as a spectator merely. Time enough will it be to become an actor when I know more, if indeed there be more to know. The clergyman sent the key according to his promise by a confidential servant who had orders to ask for Mr. Ringwood into his own hands so that the young man was fully prepared to go when the proper time should arrive for him to start upon his expedition. He purposely kept very much out of the way of Sir George Crofton and his two sons during the remainder of the evening for such was the ingenuous nature of young Ringwood and so unused was he to place any curb upon his speech but it letting slip some information regarding his intention to keep watch in the old church that night. In such a case it would have been difficult to refuse company. Sir George took the advice of the clergyman and said nothing to any one of the dreadful communication that had been made to him but he could not conceal from the family and his servants that some unusual grief and even the sadness that had remained after the death of his daughter. He retired to rest unusually early that he might escape their curious and inquiring glances. The clock struck eleven. It is time, said Ringwood, as he sprung from his seat in his bedroom, it is time for the love of thee, my Clara, I go to brave this adventure. Are you in death as in life? My heart is widowed and can know no other love. He armed himself with a pair of loaded pistols or he made up his mind that if any trickery was at the bottom of the proceeding the authors of such a jest should pay dearly for their temerity and then cautiously descending from his bedroom he crossed the dining room and passing through a conservatory easily made his way out of the house and into a flower garden that was beyond. He thought that if he went out of the grounds by the way of the porter's lodge it might excite some remark his not returning again so he went to a part of the wall which he knew was low and rugged. There he said I can easily climb over and by getting into the meadows make my way into the road. This to a young man was not by any means a difficult matter and he in a few minutes more found himself quite free of the house and grounds and making his way very rapidly towards the church the tower of which he could just see. The night was again a cloudy one although nothing had as yet fallen the wind was uncertain and no one could with any safety assured to predict whether it would be fair or rain. Of the two certainly Ringwood would have preferred moonlight for he wished in the church to be able to see well about him without thinking of the necessity of light. No he said as he pursued his way I must have no light that would ruin all. By the time he reached the church he had a better opinion of the weather and from a faint sort of halo that was in the sky he was led to believe that the moon's light would soon be visible and enable him to see everything that might take place. The key that the parson had given him opened the same little door by which Will Stevens the sexton had entered and there was no difficulty in turning the lock for it was frequently used. The young man paused for a moment debating with himself whether he should fasten the door securely on the inner side or leave it open and at last he thought that considering all things the latter was the best course to pursue. I do not wish he said to stop any proceedings so much as I wished to see what they are there shall therefore be every facility for anyone coming into the church a chance to have an intention so to do. He still it will be seen quong a little to the hope that it was a trick. When he pushed open the door that was covered with green bays he found that in consequence of the cloth curtain being entirely drawn aside from before the south window that there was not near the amount of darkness within the building that he had anticipated finding there. When his eyes got a little accustomed to it he could even see dimly to be sure but still sufficiently to distinguish the several shapes of the well-known objects in the church, the pulpit the communion table the little rails before it and some of the old monuments against the walls. The stone slab that covered the opening to the vault of the Crofton family the commencement of the morning service properly secured so that the entrance could be walked over with perfect safety and Ringwood carefully ascertained that such was the fact. Surely surely he said it is as Mr. Bevan says that man must have come here half stupefied by ale and have gone to sleep the only thing that gives the slightest semblance to such a tale is the adventure of that most mysterious man who was reclaimed from the sea. Yes, Ringwood was right. That was the circumstance full of dread and awful mystery as it was which suffice to make anything else probable and possible. And what had become of him since the time when he made his escape from the Grange nothing had been seen or heard of him unless that were he indeed who was in the church pointing to the moonlight when the terrified Will Stevens was there. And yet Stevens, although he might be supposed to be in a position to know him, did not recognize him for we do not find in his account of the affair that he made any mention of him or insinuated any opinion even Mr. Smith of the Bone House was the same person who had played so strange a part in the church. The reader will have his own opinion. Where shall I bestow myself thought Ringwood? I ought to be somewhere from whence I can get a good view of the whole church. After some little consideration and looking about him as well as the semi-darkness but that he could not by any possibility do better than get into the pulpit from there he could readily turn about in any direction from whence any noise might proceed at the same time that it was something like a position which could not be very well attacked except with firearms and if such weapons were used against him he should have the great advantage of seeing who was his assailant. Accordingly he ascended the pulpit stairs and soon ensconced himself in that elevated place. There was something very awful and solemn and yet beautiful about the faint view he got the old conventical looking church from its pulpit and irresistible had he chosen to resist it there came to his lips a prayer to heaven for its aid its protection and its blessing upon his enterprise. How much calmer and happier he felt after that how true it is as Prospero says that prayer pierces so that it assaults mercy itself and frees all faults. Who is there in the wide world that has not felt the benign influence of an appeal to the great creator of all things under circumstances of difficulty and of distress? Let us pity the heart if there be such a one in existence that is callous to such a feeling but there are none. A reliance upon divine mercy is one of the attributes of humanity and may not be turned aside by even all the wickedness and the infidelity that may be arrayed against it. All is still Murmured Ringwood. The stillness of the very grave is here. Oh, my Clara! It thinks without a pang of mortal fear I could converse in such an hour as this with thy pure and unsullied spirit. In the enthusiasm of the moment, no doubt Ringwood could have done so and it is a wonder that his most excited imagination did not conjure up some apparent semblance of the being whom he loved so devotedly and whose image he so fondly cherished even although she had gone from him. Yes, my Clara, he cried in tones of enthusiasm come to me, come to me and you will not find that in life or in death the heart that is all your own will shrink from you. This species of mental exaltation was sure soon to pass away and it did so. The sound of his own voice convinced him of the impropriety of such speeches when he came there as an observer. Hush! Hush! he said. Be still! Be still! It was evident to him that many clouds were careering over the face which would get very dark indeed and everything assumed a pitchy blackness and then again a soft kind of light would steal in and give the whole place a different aspect. This continued for a long time as he thought and more than once he tried to ascertain the progress of the hours by looking at his watch but the dim light baffled him. How long have I been here? He asked himself, I must not measure the time by my feelings, else I should call it an age. At that moment the old church clock began to chime and having proclaimed the four quarters past eleven it with its deep-toned solemn bell struck the hour of twelve. Ringwood carefully counted the strokes so that although his watch he could not be deceived. The Stone Slab The Vampire Yes, it was twelve o'clock that mysterious hour at which it is believed by many that graves give up their dead and many a ghost in churchyard decay rise from their cold cold bed to make night horrible with wild vagary. Twelve that hour when all that is human feels a sort of irksome dread as if the those who have gone from the great world were too nearer loading the still night air with the murky vapours of the grave. A chilliness came over Ringwood and he fat seed a strange kind of light was in the church making objects more visible than in their dim and dusky outlines they had been before. Why do I tremble? he said. Why do I tremble? Clouds pass away from before that is all soon there may be a bright light here and low all is still I hear nothing but my own breathing I see nothing but what is common and natural thank heaven all will pass away in quiet there will be no horror to recount no terrific sight to chill my blood rest Clara rest in heaven ten minutes passed away and there was no alarm how wonderfully relieved was Ringwood. Tears came to his eyes but these were the natural tears of regret such as he had shed before for her who had gone from him to the tomb and left no trace behind but in the hearts of those who loved her. Yes he said mournfully she has gone from me but I love her still still does the fond remembrance she was to me linger at my heart she is my own my beautiful Clara as she ever was and as while life remains to me she ever will be at the moment that he uttered these words a slight noise met his ears in an instant he sprung to his feet in the pulpit and looked anxiously around him what was that he said what was that all was still again and he was upon the point of convincing himself that the noise was either some accidental one or the creation of his own fancy when it came again he had no doubt this time it was a perceptible scraping strange sort of sound and he turned his whole attention to the direction from whence it came with a cold creeping chill through his frame he saw that that direction was the one where was the family vault of the Croftons the last home of her whom he held still in remembrance and whose memory was so dear to him he felt the perspiration standing upon his brow and if the whole world had been the recompense to him for moving away from where he was he could not have done so all he could do was to gaze with bated breath and distended eyes upon the aisle of the church from whence the sound came that something of a terrific nature was now about to exhibit itself and that the night would not go off without some terrible and significant adventure to make it remembered he felt convinced all he dreaded was to think what it might be his thoughts ran on Clara and he murmured forth in the most agonizing accents anything any sight but the sight of her oh no no no but it was not altogether the sight of her that he dreaded oh no it was the fact that the sight of her on such an occasion the horrible conviction with it that there was some truth in the dreadful apprehension that he had of the new state of things that had ensued regarding the after-death condition of that fair girl the noise increased each moment and finally there was a sudden crash she comes she comes gasped ringwood he grasped the front of the pulpit with a frantic violence and then slowly and solemnly there crossed his excited vision a figure all clothed in white yes white flowing vestments and he knew by their fashion that they were not worn by the living and that it was some inhabitant of the tomb that he now looked upon he did not see the face no that for a time was hidden from him but his heart told him who it was yes it was his Clara it was no dream it was no vision of a too excited fancy for until those palpable sounds and that most fearfully palpable form crossed his sight he was rather inclined to go the other way and to fancy what the sexton had reported was nothing but a delusion of his overwrought brain oh that he could but for one brief moment have found himself deceived speak he gasped speak speak there was no reply I conjure you I pray you though the sound of your voice should hurl me to perdition I implore you speak all was silent the white moved on slowly but surely towards the door of the church but ere it passed out it turned for a moment as if for the very purpose of removing from the mind of Ringwood any lingering doubt as to its identity he then saw the face oh so well known but so pale it was Clara Crofton to she was all he could say it seemed too as if some crevice in the clouds had opened at the moment in order that he should with an absolute certainty see the countenance of that solemn figure and then all was more than usually silent again the door closed and the figure was gone he rose in the pulpit and clasped his hands irresolution seemed for a few moments to sway him to and fro and then he rushed down into the body of the church I'll follow it he cried though it lead me to perdition yes I'll follow it he made his way to the door and even as he went he shouted Clara Clara Clara he reached the threshold of the ancient church he gazed around him distractedly or he thought that he had lost all sight of the figure no no even in the darkness and against the night sky he saw it once again in its sad looking death payments he dashed forward the moon beams at this instant being freed from some dense clouds that had interposed between them to this world first forth with resplendent beauty there was not a tree a shrub nor a flower but what was made distinct and manifest and with the church such was the almost unprecedented luster of the beautiful planet that even the inscriptions upon the old tablets and tombs were distinctly visible such a refulgence lasted many minutes but while it did it was most beautiful and the gloom that followed it seemed doubly black stay stay he shouted yet a moment Clara I swear that what you are that will I be take me over to the tomb with you say but that it is your dwelling place and I will make it with the inscriptions the figure glided on it was in vain that he tried to keep up with it it threaded the churchyard among the ancient tombs with a gliding speed that soon distanced him impeded as he continually was by some obstacle or another owing to looking at the apparition he followed instead of the ground before him still on he went heedless wither he was conveyed for he might be said to be dragged onward so much were all his faculties both of mind and body intent upon following the apparition of his beloved once and once only the figure passed and seemed to be aware that it was followed for it flitted round an angle made by one of the walls of the church and disappeared from his eyes in another moment he had turned the same point Clara Clara he shouted tis eye you know my voice Clara Clara she was not to be seen and then the idea struck him that she must have re-entered the church and he too turned and crossed the threshold he lingered there for a moment or two and the whole building echoed to the name of Clara as with romantic eagerness he called upon her by name to come forth to him those echoes were the only reply maddened rendered desperate beyond all endurance he went some distance into the building in search of her and again he called it was in vain she had eluded him and with all the carefulness and all the energy and courage she had brought to bear upon that night's proceedings he was foiled could anything be more agonizing than this to such a man as Ringwood he who loved her so that he had not shrunk from her even in death although she had so shrunk from him I will find her I will question her he cried she shall not escape me living or dead she shall be mine I will wait for her even in the tomb before he carried out the intention of going actually into the vault to await her return he thought he would take one more glance at the churchyard with the hope of seeing her there as he could observe no indications of her presence in the church this view he proceeded to the door and emerged into the dim light he called upon her again by name and he thought he heard some faint sound in the church behind him to turn and make a rush into the building was the work of a moment he saw something it was black instead of white a tall figure it advanced towards him and with great force before he was aware that an attack was at all intended it felled him to the ground the blow was so sudden so unexpected and so severe that it struck him down in a moment before he could be aware of it to be sure he had arms with him but the anxiety and agony of mind he endured that night since seeing the apparition come from the tomb had caused him to forget them End of Chapter 217 Chapter 218 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 218 The Young Girl in the Village and the Awful Visit It is now necessary that we draw the reader's attention to a humbler place of residence than the Grange with its spacious chambers and lordly halls Situated not very far from the church and almost close to the churchyard upon which its little garden abutted was a cottage the picture of rural neatness and beauty In the winter it was beautiful and picturesque but in the summertime when its porch was overrun with the woodbine and the sweet clematis it was one of the sweetest of abodes that content and happiness could ever live in This cottage was inhabited by an old woman and her only child a young girl of sixteen beautiful as a rose and as guileless as an angel I can try to live upon a small annuity that the mother had from a family in whose service she spent the best years of her life and who with a generosity that would be well to be abundantly and extensively imitated would not see their old dependent want These two innocent and blameless persons had retired to rest at nine o'clock their usual hour and had slept in the home sleep of contentment until about half past one when the mother was awakened by a loud and piercing shriek from her daughter's chamber to spring from her humble couch was the work of a moment Anna, Anna, my child Anna, she shrieked As she did so she rushed across the small stair landing which separated the two and the only two of the cottage and was about to enter her daughter's room when the door of it was opened from within and the old dame's heart died within her as she saw a figure upon the threshold attired in the vestments of the grave and opposing her entrance Was it a dream or did she really see such a sight aghast and trembling the mother stood a moment or two to speak and as she fell fainting upon the landing she thought that something passed her but she could not be quite sure as it was at the instant her faculties were flitting from her How long she lay in that seeming death she knew not and when she recovered it was some few minutes before recollection came back to her and she really remembered and immediately overpowered her but when her reason did resume its way and she recollected that it was some danger to Anna which had first alarmed her she called her loudly by her name Anna, Anna speak to me Mother, mother replied the young girl oh come to me these words supplied strength to the old woman she made her way immediately into the chamber of her daughter whom she found in an agony of fear a light was procured and then Anna flung herself upon her mother's neck and wept abundantly oh mother, tell me convince me that it was only a dream what my child oh what the girl trembled so much by the utmost persuasion that the following account was got from her of the cause of her fright she said that she had gone to sleep as usual within a very few minutes after going to bed that she enjoyed a calm and uninterrupted slumber the duration of which she had no means whatever of guessing but she was partially awakened she instantly rose and stood looking at the window on which a sort of shadow seemed to pass without which alarmed her exceedingly still as it did not come again and as she certainly had not been fully awake when she sprung from her bed she had thought it quite possible that all might be a dream and had foreborn from making any alarm upon the subject after some hesitation she had persuaded herself to go to bed again and when there although she sometimes started awake fancying she heard something she at length yielded to sleep and again slept soundly for a time until a new circumstance awakened her she thought she felt something touching her about the neck and after opening her eyes the moonlight which at that moment happened to be very bright disclosed to her a white figure standing by the side of her bed the face of which figure was leaning over her and within a very few inches of her own terror at first deprived her of all power of speech or motion but as the figure did not move she at length gave utterance to her fears in that shriek which had come from her lips and so much alarmed the mother this was all the young girl could say with the exception that the figure when she shrieked appeared to glide away but where to she had no means of telling for some clouds at that moment came again over the face of the moon the mother was much affected and terrified and at first thought of calling up her neighbors but at length as the night was considerably advanced and the intruder gone they agreed to let the matter rest till morning and the mother retired to her room again how long it was before the shriek from her daughter's room came again she did not know but come again it did yes again came the dreadful shriek it could be no delusion now and the mother once more sprung from her couch to rush to the rescue of her child confused and bewildered she darted onward to the chamber but the door was fast nor could all her exertions suffice to open it Anna, Anna she shouted speak to me one word only my child, my child all was still the trembling mother placed her ear to the door and she heard a strange sucking sound as if an animal was drinking with labor and difficulty her head seemed to be on fire and her senses were upon the point of leaving her but she did manage to reach her own room she flew to the little casement she dashed it open help, help, help for the love of God help there was no reply again she raised her voice in shrieking wild accents help, murder, help what is it shouted a man's voice it was one who was going some distance to take in his fishing nets oh thank God some human being hears me come in, come in how am I to get in stay a moment and I will come down and open the cottage door for you for the love of mercy do not go away trembling and terrified to a dreadful excess the old woman went downstairs and let the man into the cottage whence they both proceeded up to the chamber of the daughter what do you suppose is the matter of the fisherman oh I know not I know not but twice tonight twice has this dreadful alarm happened do not leave us oh do not I don't want but I should hardly think thieves would find it worth their while to come here at all for what they would get you must have been dreaming and there to the horror of the mother she was found lying perfectly insensible on her bed with a quantity of blood smeared about her neck why it's a murder cried the fisherman and firmly impressed with such a belief he ran out of the house to spread an alarm the window of the chamber was wide open and from that the mother now cried aloud for help between her and the fisherman such a disturbance was made all over the neighborhood that they were soon likely to have more assistance than could be useful the people living the nearest were soon roused and they roused others while the distracted woman who believed Anna was dead called for justice and for vengeance the alarm spread from house to house from cottage to hall and in the course of half an hour most of the inhabitants of the village had risen to hear the old dame's account of the horrible proceeding that had taken place that night in the cottage exaggeration was out of the question the fact itself was more than sufficient to induce the greatest amount of horror in the minds of all who heard it and there was one and only one the formation enabled him to give a name to the apparition that had assaulted Anna that one was the schoolmaster of the place and he after hearing the story said if one could persuade oneself at all of the existence of such horrors one would suppose that a vampire had visited the cottage this was a theme that was likely to be popular schoolmaster foolishly gave way to the vanity and explained what a vampire was or was supposed and said to be and soon the whole place was in a state of the most indescribable alarm upon the subject as yet the horrible news had not reached the Grange but it was destined soon to do so and better would it have been that anyone had at once plunged a dagger in the heart of poor Sir George Crofton than that there should be thought to be such a horrible confirmation of his worst fears to be sure his daughter was not named but he received the news with a scream of anguish and fell insensible into the arms of his son all was confusion the servants ran hither and thither not knowing what to do and it was not until Mr. Bevan arrived that something like order was restored he as a privileged friend assumed for the nonce a kind of dictatorship at the Grange and gave orders which were cheerfully and promptly obeyed then he desired a strictly private interview with Sir George it was of course granted to him but the old baronet begged that Charles and Edwin might now know all it was Emma alone from whom he wished to keep the awful truth End of Chapter 218 Chapter 219 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 Press Chapter 219 The Awful Supposition A Resolution It was with some reluctance that the clergyman spoke Sir, he said to the old baronet and you, my young gentlemen I am afraid very much afraid of anything but right incontinencing a supposition so utterly at variance with all my own notions and feelings but my abhorrence of a secret impels me to speak Say on, Sir Say on, cried Sir George Perhaps we are better prepared to hear what you have to tell than you imagine After this Mr. Bevin had less reluctance to speak he said As aware, although you all were not that Mr. Ringwood intended to keep watch last night in the church in order to test the truth of what had been told by Will Stevens the sexton I did all I could to persuade him from making the attempt but when I found that nothing else would satisfy him I thought it prudent to give him the means of carrying out what had become such a fixed intention that to oppose it was to do far more mischief than to grant it all the aid I had in my power to do Sir George gave a nod of assent He went there continued Mr. Bevin with a private key of my own and took his place in the church I wish, Sir you had been with him said Edwin Yes, added Charles if you with your cool, calm and biased judgment had been there we should have been much better able to come to a correct conclusion about what occurred or that something did occur or was supposed by Ringwood to do so we can well guess I wish indeed I had been there said Mr. Bevin but he begged so earnestly to be allowed to go alone that I had not the heart to refuse him said Sir I will tell you I gave him a key which admitted him to the church by the small private entrance at which I usually go in myself in fact it was my own private key for I at times visit the church and wish to do so when I am not expected by those who have the ordinary charge of it we have heard as much no doubt well then I gave him that key but it was my sympathy with his evident distress rather than my judgment which consented to do so and I had hardly done it when I began to busy myself with conjectures and to deeply regret that I had yielded to him so easily what if he in his excited and grief-stricken state of mind should come to some serious mischief I said to myself very very much to blame would not all prudent person say that I did very wrong to send a man in such a condition of mind into a church at midnight alone your motives and your known character Sir would protect you said Charles I hope so continued Mr. Bevan I think it would from all other charges but imprudence and if any great mischance befallen Ringwood I should not so readily have forgiven myself as others might have been induced to forgive me I understand that feeling said Sir George well then with such sensations tugging at my heart no wonder I could not rest and so at a little after twelve I rose and hastily dressing myself I left my house as noiselessly possible and made my way towards the church the moon's light was at that time obscured but every spot was so familiar to me that I was able to go with speed and I soon reached the venerable building I walked round it until I came to the door the key of which I had given to Mr. Ringwood it was open but the moment I crossed the threshold I stumbled in his insensible form go on, go on he had seen something terrible gasp Sir George I am nervous I think for the very worst I pray you Sir go on and tell me all I will Sir George because I feel convinced it is my duty to conceal nothing in this transaction and because I think you had better more calmly and dispassionately without exaggeration hear from me all that is to be told that is a good reason Sir said Edwin we should of course hear from all other sources and probably with all the aids that a feeling for the marvellous could depend to it that is my impression when then I stumbled over a person lying just within the little private door of the church I had no immediate means of knowing who it was I tell you it was Ringwood because I afterwards discovered as much I had the means of getting a light when I did so I found Ringwood lying in a swoon while at the same time I could not but notice a large bruise upon his forehead of course my first duty was to look after him instead of troubling myself about his assailant having placed him in as convenient a posture as I could I hurried home again and roused up my servants with their assistance I got him to my house and placed him in bed and did you search the church Sir I did I went back and searched it thoroughly but found nothing at all suspicious everything was in its right place and I could not account for the affair at all because of the wound that Ringwood had I was most anxious to hear from him that he had had a fall but, but, said Sir George falteringly he told a different story he did a story which you will not keep from us I do not feel myself justified as I have said in keeping it from you this is it and then related to the family of the Croftons what is already known to the reader concerning the adventures of Ringwood in the old church and which that morning upon his recovery Ringwood had told to him most circumstantially we need scarcely say that this recital was listened to with the most agonized feelings poor Sir George appeared to be yet he trembled excessively and could not command himself sufficiently to speak the two brothers looked at each other in dismay now I pray you all to consider this matter more calmly said Mr. Bevan than you seem inclined to do calmly gasp Sir George calmly yes, what evidence have we after all that the whole affair has anything more than a dream of Mr. Ringwood's does he doubt it no I am bound to tell you that he does not but we may well do so for all that he is the last person who is likely to give in to the opinion that it is a mere vision so strangely impressed as it is upon his imagination recollect always that he went to the church prepared to see something oh if we could but think it unreal said Sir George glancing at his sons as if to gather their opinions of the matter from their countenances I will cling to such a thought said Charles until I am convinced otherwise through the medium of my own senses and I said Edwin you are right added Mr. Bevan I never in the whole of my experience heard of anything of which people should be so slow of believing in as this most uncomfortable affair you now know all and it is for yourselves of course to make whatever determination you think fit if I might advise it would be that you all take a short tour perhaps on the continent for a time Mr. Bevan said Sir George in a kindly tone I am greatly obliged to you the suggestion I know springs from the very best and friendly motives but it carries with it a strong presumption that you really do think there is something in all this affair which it would be as well to have settled in my absence the clergyman could not deny but that some such feeling was at the bottom of his advice but still admit that he was at all convinced of the reality of what was presumed to have happened and a short pause in the conversation ensued after which Sir George spoke with a solemn air of determination saying to his sons as well as to his friend and pastor Mr. Bevan when I tell you that I have made a determination from which nothing but the hand of heaven shall move me I hope no one here will try to dissuade me from carrying it out after such an exhortium it was a difficult thing to say anything to him so he continued my child was dear very dear to me in life and I have no superstitious fears concerning one who held such a place in my affections I am resolved that tonight I will watch her poor remains and at once convince myself of a horror that may drive me mad or take a mountain of grief and apprehension off my heart father cried Charles you will allow me to accompany you and me added Edwin my sons you are both deeply interested in this matter you would be miserable while I was gone if you were not with me moreover I will not trust my own imagination entirely we will all free go and then we cannot be deceived this is my most solemn resolution I have only one thing to say regarding it said Mr. Bevin that is to prefer an earnest request that you will allow me to be one of the party you shall sit in a few of the church that shall command a view of the building accompany us Mr. Bevin if you will said Sir George but I sit in no pew no pew no by my child's coffin in the vault where repose the remains of more than one of my race who had been dear to me in life will I take my place there was an earnest result solemnity about Sir George's thought that he was not to be turned from his purpose and Mr. Bevin accordingly did not attempt to do so he had done what he scarcely expected that is got a consent to accompany him to the night vigil and at all events let what would happen he as a more disinterested party than the others would be able probably to interfere and prevent any disastrous chances from arising say nothing of what has been determined on to anyone said Sir George keep it a profound secret Sir and this night will put an end to the agony of doubt depend upon me will you come to my house at eleven o'clock or shall I come here we will come to you it is in the way thus then the affair was settled so far satisfactorily that there was to be a watch actually now in the vault so that there could be no delusion, no trick practiced what will be the result will be shown very shortly in the meantime we cannot but tremble at what that attached and nearly broken hearted father may have still to go through the excitement too in village was immense for the story of the vampires attack upon the young girl was fresh in everybody's mouth and it lost nothing of its real horrors by the frequency with which it was repeated and the terror stricken manner in which it was dilated upon end of chapter two nineteen Chapter two hundred and twenty of Vani the Vampire Volume three only prevox recording only prevox recordings and the public domain for more information auto-volunteer please visit leprevox.org Vani the Vampire Volume three by Thomas Prescott-Prest Chapter two hundred and twenty the grand consultation at the ale house the awful suggestion Sir George Croft and his family could form no idea owning to not being in a position state of excitement produced in the village by the mysterious and frightful attack which had been made upon the widow's daughter when people are very much absorbed with their own grief they are apt to set a lighter value upon those of others and thus it was that the family of the Croftons was so entirely taken up is what itself felt and had to do that there was little room for sympathy with others Mr. Bevan likewise from his peculiar and respectable position was not likely to be made the depository of gossiping secrets the inhabitants of that little place when the habit of approaching him with respect so that although as we are aware he had heard from Will Stevens the Saxon a full and particular account of what had happened to him in the old church and was likewise cognizant of the story of the midnight attack upon the widow's daughter he was not fully aware of the effect which those circumstances had had upon the small population of that fishing village we are bound to believe that if he had had any idea of the real result of those operations of what was contemplated as the result he would have done his best to adopt some cause to prevent any disastrous collision we, however, with all the data and materials of this most singular narrative before us are enabled to detail to the readers facts and occurrences as they took place actually without awaiting the arrival of those periods at which they reached the knowledge of those actors in the gloomy drama of real life our readers then will please to know that the excitement among the inhabitants of the place was of that violent and overbearing description that all the occupations of the villages were abandoned and the spirit of idleness sadly suggestive mischief began to prevalent among them this feeling was increased by frequent visits to the ale house the liquor of which was well esteemed by Willis Stevens as may be readily imagined and towards even in the large old fashioned parlor of that place of entertainment became crowded with a motley assemblage her sole purpose in meeting together was to drink strong ale and to discuss the irritating and exciting subject of the appearance of a vampire in the village this discussion from being at first a sober, serious and alarmed one became noisy and violent at length the blacksmith who was a great man in the politics of the place and who of all things in the world most admired to hear his own voice rose and addressed his peers in something of a sad speech listen to me he said are we to have the blood sucked out of our bodies by a lot of vampires is our wives and daughters to be murdered in the middle of night no no no cried many voices certainly not is we to be made into victims or isn't we what's Sir George Kraft and his family to us to be sure he's the landlord of some of us and the very good landlord he is too as long as we pay our rent here here here but there is no saying how long he might be so if it didn't Bravo-Odick cried the master of the place handing the orator pot Bravo-Odick take a pull of that old fellow thank you Muggins now what they propose is stand on a chair and let's all hear you thank you said the blacksmith and getting upon a chair he was about to commands again when someone advised him to get upon the table but in the effort to accomplish that feat he unfortunately draw the pond what was a mere flap of the table which had not sufficient power to support his weight and down he came amid an assemblage of pots, chucks and glasses which made a most alarming crash this rose the fury of the landlord who had no idea of being made such a sufferer in the transaction and he accordingly began to claim heavily at this loss and dispute the rose as to how he was to be repaid and it was finally settled that the general subscription would be the best mode of reimbursing him if anything was wanting to work up the feelings of the toppers at the public house to the highest pitch of aggravation it certainly was the having to disperse the breakages some of money which if liquefied would have trickled most luxuriously down their roads they were consequently ripe and ready for anything which promised vengeance upon anybody the blacksmith was not discomforted by his fall and is a man who is fond of hearing himself talk discomforted by anything and he soon resumed his orating in the following words is we to be put upon in this kind of way why we be able to sleep in our beds all I ask is is we to put up with it but what are we to do said one ah there's the question said the blacksmith I don't know exactly let's ask old Timothy Brown said the butcher he's the oldest man here this was ascended to and accordingly the individual mentioned was questioned as to his ideas of the way of avoiding the alarming catastrophe which seemed to be impending over them he advised him to wait patiently till the next night and keep awake till the unwelcome nocturnal visitor made its appearance when whoever it might visit was boldly to assail it without any fear of the consequences to himself further assistance could be procured after Timothy Brown had delivered himself this piece of advice a dead silence ensued among the late boisterous company there were many dissentions and a few who seemed in favor of the trial of the practicability of the plan both parties seemed to give some consideration to the proposition and they were by far too much engaged in thinking of the advice which had been given them pay much attention to the quarter from whence it had emanated more particularly too as from his age and infirmities he was incapacitated from carrying it out or from giving any active assistance to those who were disposed to do so a great many efforts were made to get him to say more particularly with reverence to the case under consideration as being no common one but the octogenarian had made his effort and he only replied to the remonstrances of those who alternately by coaxing or bullying strove to get information from him by a vacant stare it is of no use said the butcher you'll get nothing more from old Timothy he's done up now that's quite clear and tend to one if the excitement for night won't go a good way towards slaughtering him before his time well it may be so cried the blacksmith but still it's good advice and as I said before it comes to this is we to be afraid to lay down in our beds at night or isn't we before any reply could be made to this interrogatory the old clock that was in the public house parlor struck the hour 11 and another peel of sander seemed to be answering the tinkling sounds it's a rough night said one I thought there would be a storm before morning by the look of the sun at setting it went down this is strange fiery redness behind the bank of clouds I move for going home who talks of going home cried the blacksmith when vampires are abroad hasn't old Timothy said that a stormy night was the very one to settle the thing in no cried another he did not say night at all I don't care whether he said night or day I've made up my mind to do something there's no doubt about it but that the vampire is about the old church who'll come with me and ferret it out it will be good service done to everybody's fireside end of chapter 220 recording by ellie june 2009 chapter 221 of one in the vampire volume 3 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by ellie one in the vampire volume 3 by thomas prescott pressed chapter 221 the night watch the vault it was each moment becoming a more difficult affair to carry on any conversation the public house parlor for not only did the sender each moment almost interrupt the speakers with its loud reverberations but now and then such a tremendous gust of wind would sweep around the house that it would be quite impossible for anyone to make himself heard amidst its loud howling noise these were circumstances however which greatly added no doubt in the getting up of a superstitious feeling in the minds of the people they are assembled which made them ripe for any proposition which perhaps in their soberer moments they would have regarded with considerable dismay the next misrush to the door crying who will follow me to the old church and lay hold of the vampire about half a dozen of the boldest and most reckless and be told to the honor if there be any honor in such an enterprise which after all was a grossly selfish one we were the worst characters in the village started to defeat to accompany him tighter there are many persons who waver about an enterprise who will join it when it has a show of force and thus was it with this affair the moment it was found that the blacksmith's proposition had some half dozen stout deterrents he got this many more some of whom joined him from curiosity and some from threat of being sought to lack courage by their companions if they held off there was now a sufficiently large party to make a respectable demonstration and quite elated with his success and caring little for the landstorm that was raging the blacksmith closely followed by the butcher in life to the affair especially as he was at variance is the person concerning the tides of a little farm he kept cold out to the church to the church and followed by the rebel rushed forward in the direction of the sacred edifice as the hour of 11 was struck and as the reader is aware that at that hour Sir George Crofton and his two sons accompanied by Mr. Bevan had agreed to go to the church on the melancholy errand we will leave the noisy brawlers in the alehouse for the purpose of detailing the proceedings of those whose fortunes we feel more closely interested in the baronet was by no means wavering in his determination not withstanding it had been made at the time of unusual excitement when second thoughts might have been allowed to step in and suggest some other course of proceeding now Mr. Bevan was not without his own private hopes that such would be the case for what he dreaded above all things the truth of the affair and that Sir George would have the horror of discovering that there was much more in the popular superstition than without ocular demonstration he would have been inclined to admit although a man of education and of refined abilities the evidence that had already showed itself to him of the existence at all events of some supernatural being with powers analogous to those of the fabled vampire was such that he could not wholly deny his intellect that there might be such things it is a sad circumstance when the mind is, as it were compelled to receive undeniable evidence of a something which the judgment has the strongest general reasons for disputing and that was precisely the position of Mr. Bevan in the most unenviable it was that night's proceedings however in the world he felt must put an end to all doubts and perplexity upon the subject and so we suffer and hope that at the present inexplicable manner the thing would be found to be a delusion he waited more anxiously the arrival of the Croftons at the Parsonage at half past ten o'clock instead of eleven for as the evening advanced Sir George Crofton had shown such an amount of nervousness that his sons had thought it would be better to bring him to the Parsonage they arrived and Mr. Bevan perceived at once what the remarkable effect grief and anxiety had already had upon the features of the Baronet he was a different man to what but the few days since he had been and more than ever the kind clergyman felt inclined to doubt the expediency of his being present on such a location and yet how to prevent him if he were really determined was a matter of no small difficulty my dear friend said Mr. Bevan will you pardon me if I make an effort now to persuade you to abandon this enterprise I can pardon the effort easily that Sir George Crofton because I know it is dictated by the best of motives but I would feign be spared of it for I am determined I will say no more but only with deep sincerity hope that you may return to your dwelling each relieved from the load of anxiety that now oppresses you I hope to heaven it may be so the night looks strange and still said Charles who wished to draw his father's attention as much as possible from too close the contemplation of the expedition on which they were bound it does said Edwin I should not be surprised at the storm for there is every indication of some disturbance of the elements let it come said Sir George who feigned that in all those remarks he detected nothing but the wish to withdraw him from his enterprise let it come I have a duty to perform and I will do it though heaven's suns should rock the very earth the forked lightning is not launched who goes to watch at the grave of his child Charles and Edwin upon finding that Sir George was in the mood to take a misapplication of whatever was said to him desisted from further remarks but left Mr. Bevan quietly to converse with him in a calm and unirritating manner it was the object of the clergyman to put off as much time as possible before proceeding to the church so that the period to be spent in the family world of the Croftons should be lessened as much as possible for he felt assured that each minute they are wasted would be one of great agony to the bereaved father who would feel himself once again in such close approximation to that daughter on whom he had placed some of his dearest affections Sir George however defeated this intention by promptly rising when his watch told him that the hour of 11 had arrived and it was in vain to attempt to stylify him into a belief that he was wrong as regarded the time for the church was sufficiently near for him to hear the hour of 11 peeled force from its ancient steeple Come, Sir George, the hour has arrived I pray you do not delay I know you are all anxious and fearful concerning me but I have a spirit of resolution and firmness in this affair which I now stand me in good stead I shall not shrink as you imagine I shall shrink. Come, then at once it is suspense and delay which frets me not action. These words was the better spirit into both his sons and Mr. Bevan and in a few moments the party of four surely sufficiently strong to overcome any unexpected obstacles or to defeat any trickery that might be attempted to be passed off upon them proceeded towards the church. It will be recollected that it was just a little after that time that the storm commands and in fact the first clap of thunder that seemed to shake the heavens took place just as they reached the old graveyard during the sacred building. Dear, exclaimed Charles, I thought that it would come. What matter, Sir George, come on humor him in everything, said Mr. Bevan. It is madness now to contradict him. He will not recede under any circumstances. The natural senses of Sir George Crofton appeared to be prenaturally acute for he turned sharply and said quickly but not unkindly. No, he will not recede. Come on. After this nothing was said until they reached the church door and then while Mr. Bevan was searching in his pockets for the little key which opened the small private entrance, some vivid flashes of lightning lit up with extraordinary brilliancy, the old gossip structure, the neighboring tombs and the melancholy youth trees that waved their branches in the night air. Perhaps the delay which ensued before Mr. Bevan could find the key likewise arose from the wish to keep Sir George Crofton a short time as possible within the world but he at length produced it for any further delay could only be accounted for by saying that he had it not. The small arch doorway was speedily cleared and as another pile of sand broke overhead in an awful grandeur of sound they entered the church. Mr. Bevan took the precaution this time to close the door so that there could be no interruption from without. Now Sir George, he said, remember your promise, you are to come away freely at the first dawn of day and if nothing by then has occurred to strengthen this frightful supposition which I suppose I may say we have all indulged in I do hope that forever this subject will be erased from your recollection. Be it so, Sir George, be it so, Mr. Bevan then visit himself in lightning a lantern and from beneath one of the pews where they were hidden he procured a couple of crowbars with which to raise the stone that covered the entrance of the vault. These preparations took up some little time so that the old clock had chimed the quarter past eleven and must have been rapidly getting on to the half hour before they stood in the aisle close to the vault. This marble slab, Sir George, as he cast his eyes upon it, always hit or two has been cemented in its place. Why is it not so now? Is it not? Said Mr. Bevan. No, lend me the light. Mr. Bevan was averse to lending him the light, but he could not very well refuse it. And when Sir George Crofton had looked more minutely at the marble slab, he saw that it had been cemented, but that the cement was torn and broken away, as if some violence had been used for the purpose of opening the vault. But whether that violence came from this in or without was a matter of conjecture. End of Chapter 221, recording by Allie, June 2009