 38 March Dale's Offer—The Consultation at Bannerworth Hall. Mr. Chillingworth was much annoyed to see Jack Pringle in the hall, and Jack was somewhat surprised at seeing Mr. Chillingworth there at that time of the morning. They had but little time to indulge in their mutual astonishment, for a servant came to announce that Sir Francis Varney would see them both. Without saying anything to the servant or each other, they ascended the staircase and were shown into the apartment where Sir Francis Varney received them. "'Gentlemen,' said Sir Francis, in his usual bland tone, "'you are welcome.' "'Sir Francis,' said Mr. Chillingworth, "'I have come upon matters of some importance. May I crave a separate audience?' "'And I too,' said Jack Pringle. "'I come as a friend of Admiral Bell. I want a private audience. But stay. I don't care a rope's end, who knows who I am, or what I come about. Say you are ready to name time and place, and I'm as dumb as a figurehead. That is, saying something at all events, and now I'm done.' "'Why, gentlemen,' said Sir Francis, with a quiet smile, "'as you have both come upon the same errand, and as there may arise a controversy upon the point of precedence, you had better be both present, as I must arrange this matter myself upon due inquiry.' "'I do not exactly understand this,' said Mr. Chillingworth. "'Do you, Mr. Pringle? Perhaps you can enlighten me?' "'If,' said Jack, as how you came here upon the same errand as I, and I as you, why we both come about fighting Sir Francis Varney.' "'Yes,' said Sir Francis. "'What Mr. Pringle says is, I believe, correct to a letter. "'I have a challenge from both your principles, and am ready to give you both the satisfaction you desire, provided the first encounter will permit me the honor of joining in the second. You, Mr. Pringle, are aware of the chances of war?' "'I should say so,' said Jack, with a wink and a nod of a familiar character. "'I've seen a few of them.' "'Will you proceed to make the necessary agreement between you both, gentlemen? My affection for the one equals fully the good will I bear the other, and I cannot give a preference in so delicate a matter. Proceed, gentlemen.' Mr. Chillingworth looked at Jack, and Jack Pringle looked at Mr. Chillingworth, and then the former said, "'Well, the admiral means fighting, and I am come to settle the necessaries. Pray let me know what are your terms, Mr.—what do you call them?' "'I am agreeable to anything that is at all reasonable. Pistols, I presume?' "'Sir Francis Varney,' said Mr. Chillingworth, "'I cannot consent to carry on this office, unless you can appoint a friend who will settle these matters with us—myself, at least.' "'And I too,' said Jack Pringle. "'We don't want to bear down an enemy. Admiral Bell ain't the man to do that, and if he were, I'm not the man to back him in doing what isn't fair or right, but he won't do it.' "'But, gentlemen, this must not be. Mr. Henry Bannerworth must not be disappointed, and Admiral Bell must not be disappointed. Moreover, I have accepted the two cartels, and I am ready and willing to fight. One at a time, I presume.' "'Sir Francis, after what you have said, I must take upon myself, on the part of Mr. Henry Bannerworth, to decline meeting you, if you cannot name a friend with whom I can arrange this affair.' "'Ah,' said Jack Pringle. "'That's right enough. I recollect very well when Jack Myeson fought Tom Foremast. They had their seconds. Admiral Bell can't do anything in the dark.' "'No, no. Damn ye, all must be above board.' "'Gentlemen,' said Sir Francis Varney, "'you see the dilemma I am in. Your principles have both challenged me. I am ready to fight any one, or both of them, as the case may be. Distinctly understand that because it is a notion of theirs that I will not do so, or that I shrink from them. But I am a stranger in this neighborhood, and have no one whom I could call upon to relinquish so much, as they run the risk of doing by attending me to the field.' "'Then your acquaintances are no friends, damn ye,' said Jack Pringle, spitting through his teeth into the bars of a beautifully polished grate. "'I'd stick to anybody, the devil himself. Leave alone a vampire. If so be is how I had been his friend, and drunk from the same can. They are a set of lovers. I have not been here long enough to form any such friendships, Mr. Chillingworth, but can confidently rely upon your honor and that of your principle, and will freely and fairly meet him.' But, Sir Francis, you forget the fact in this acting, myself, for Mr. Bannerworth, and this person for Admiral Bell, we do much, and have our own characters at stake, lives, and fortunes. These may be small, but they are everything to us. Allow me to say, on my own behalf, that I will not permit my principle to meet you, unless you can name a second, as is usual with gentlemen in such occasions. I regret, while I declare to you my entire willing list to meet you, that I cannot comply through utter inability to do so with your request. Let this to forth to the world, as I have stated it, and let it be an answer to any aspersions that may be uttered as to my unwillingness to fight.' There was a pause of some moments. Mr. Chillingworth was resolved that, come what would, he would not permit Henry to fight, unless Sir Francis Varney himself should appoint a friend, and then they could meet upon equal terms. Jack Pringle whistled, and spit, and chewed, and turned his quid, hitched up his trousers, and looked wistfully from one to the other, as he said. So then it's likely to be no fight at all, Sir Francis, what's a name? It seems like it, Mr. Pringle, replied Varney with a with-meaning smile, unless you can be more complacent towards myself and kindly towards the admiral. Why, not exactly that, said Jack. It's a pity to stop a good play in the beginning, just because some little thing is wrong in the tackling. Perhaps your skill and genius may enable us to find some medium course that we may pursue with pleasure and profit. What say you, Mr. Pringle? All I know about genius, as you call it, is the flying Dutchman, or some such odd, out-of-the-way fish. But as I said, I am not one to spoil sport, nor more is the admiral. Oh no, we is all true men and good. I believe it, said Varney, bowing politely. You needn't keep your figurehead on the move. I can see you just as well. Howsoever, as I was saying, I don't like to spoil sport, and sooner than both parties should be disappointed my principal shall become your second, Sir Francis. What, Admiral Bell, exclaimed Varney, lifting his eyebrows with surprise. What, Charles Holland's uncle, exclaimed Mr. Chillingworth in accents of amazement. And why not, said Jack, with great gravity. I will pledge my word, Jack Pringle's word, that Admiral Bell shall be second to Sir Francis Varney, during his scrimmage with Mr. Henry Bannerworth. That will let the matter go on. There can be no back-out then, eh? continued Jack Pringle, with a knowing nod at Chillingworth, as he spoke. That will, I hope, remove your scruples, Mr. Chillingworth, said Varney, with a courteous smile. But will Admiral Bell do this? His second says so, and has, I dare say, influence enough with him to induce that person to act in conformity with his promise. In course he will. Do you think he would be the man to hang back? Oh, no. He would be the last to leave Jack Pringle in the lurch. No. Depend upon it, Sir Francis. He'll be as sure to do what I say as I have said it. After that assurance, I cannot doubt it, said Sir Francis Varney. This act of kindness will indeed lay me under a deep and lasting obligation to Admiral Bell, which I fear I shall never be able to pay. You need not trouble yourself about that, said Jack Pringle. The Admiral will credit all, and you can pay off old scores when his turn comes in the field. I will not forget, said Varney. He deserves every consideration. But now, Mr. Chillingworth, I presume that we may come to some understanding respecting this meeting, which you were so kind as to do me the honor of seeking. I cannot object to its taking place. I shall be most happy to meet your second in the field and arrange with him. I imagine that under the circumstances, that it will be barely necessary to go that length of ceremony. Future interviews can be arranged later. Name the time and place, and after that we can settle all the rest on the ground. Yes, said Jack. It will be time enough, surely, to see the Admiral when we are upon the ground. I'll warrant the old buffer as a true brick as ever was. There's no flinching about him. I am satisfied, said Varney. And I also, said Chillingworth. But understand, Sir Francis, any fault for seconds makes the meeting a blank. I will not doubt Mr. Pringle's honor so much as to believe it possible. I'm damned, said Jack. If you ain't a trump card, and no mistake, it's a great pity as you as a wavire. The time, Mr. Chillingworth? Tomorrow, at seven o'clock, replied that gentleman. The place, sir? The best place that I can think of is a level meadow, halfway between here and Bannerworth Hall. But that is your privilege, Sir Francis Varney. I waive it, and am much obliged to you for the choice of the spot. It seems of the best character imaginable. I will be punctual. I think we have nothing further to arrange now, said Mr. Chillingworth. You will meet with Admiral Bell. Certainly. I believe there is nothing more to be done. This affair is very satisfactorily arranged, and much better than I anticipated. Good morning, Sir Francis, said Mr. Chillingworth. Good morning. Adieu, said Sir Francis, with a courteous salutation. Good day, Mr. Pringle, and commend me to the Admiral, whose services will be of infinite value to me. Don't mention it, said Jack. The Admiral's the man as it lend anybody a helping hand in case of distress like the present, and I'll pledge my word. Jack Pringle's, too, as that he'll do what's right and give up his turn to Mr. Henry Bannerworth, because you see he can have his turn afterwards. You know, it's only waiting a while. That's all, said Sir Francis. Jack Pringle made a sea bow and took his leave as he followed Mr. Chillingworth, and they both left the house together to return to Bannerworth Hall. Well, said Mr. Chillingworth, I am glad that Sir Francis Varney has got over the difficulty of having no seconds, for it would not be proper or safe to meet a man without a friend with him. It ain't the right thing, said Jack, hitching up his trousers. But I was as feared as how he would back out, and that would be just the wrong thing for the Admiral. He'd go raving mad. They had got but very few paces from Sir Francis Varney's house when they were joined by Marchdale. Ah, he said as he came up. I see you have been to Sir Francis Varney's, if I may judge from the direction once you're coming and your proximity. Yes, we have, said Mr. Chillingworth. I thought you had left these parts. I had intended to do so, replied Marchdale, but second thoughts are sometimes best, you know. Certainly. I have so much friendship for the family at the Hall that notwithstanding I am compelled to be absent from the mansion itself, yet I cannot quit the neighborhood while there are circumstances of such a character hanging about them. I will remain and see if there be not something arising in which I may be useful to them in some matter. It is very disinterested of you. You will remain here for some time, I suppose? Yes, undoubtedly, unless, as I do not anticipate, I should see any occasion to quit my present quarters. I tell you what it is, said Jack Pringle. If you had been here half an hour earlier, you could have seconded the Wampire. Seconded? Yes, we're here to challenge. A double challenge? Yes, but in confiding this matter to you, Mr. Marchdale, you will make no use of it to the exploding of this affair. By so doing, you will seriously damage the honor of Mr. Henry Bannerworth. I will not. You may rely upon it. But Mr. Chillingworth, do I not see you and the character of a second? You do, sir. To Mr. Henry? The same, sir. Have you reflected upon the probable consequences of such an act? Should any serious mischief occur? What I have undertaken, Mr. Marchdale, I will go through with. The consequences I have duly considered, and yet you see me and the character of Mr. Henry Bannerworth's friend. I am happy to see you as such, and I do not think Henry could find a worthier. But this is beside the question. What induced me to make the remark was this. Had I been at the hall, you will admit that Henry Bannerworth would have chosen myself without any disparagement to you, Mr. Chillingworth. Well, sir, what then? Why, I am a single man. I can live, reside, and go anywhere. One country will suit me as well as another. I shall suffer no loss, but as for you, you will be ruined in every particular, for if you go in the character of a second, you will not be excused. For all the penalties incurred, your profession of surgeon will not excuse you. I see all that, sir. What I propose is that you should accompany the parties to the field, but in your own proper character of surgeon, and permit me to take that of a second to Mr. Bannerworth. This cannot be done unless by Mr. Henry Bannerworth's consent, said Mr. Chillingworth. Then I will accompany you to Bannerworth Hall and see Mr. Henry, whom I will request permit me to do what I have mentioned to you. Mr. Chillingworth could not but admit the reasonableness of this proposal, and it was agreed they should return to Bannerworth Hall in company. Here they arrived in very short time after, and entered together. And now, said Mr. Chillingworth, I will go and bring our two principles, who will be as much astonished to find themselves engaged in the same quarrel as I was to find myself sent on a similar errand to Sir Francis with our friend Mr. John Pringle. Oh, not John! Jack Pringle, you mean, said that individual. Chillingworth now went in search of Henry and sent him to the apartment where Mr. Marchdale was with Jack Pringle, and then he found the Admiral waiting the return of Jack with impatience. Admiral, he said, I perceive you are unwell this morning. Unwell be damned, said the Admiral, starting up a surprise. Whoever heard that old Admiral Bell looked ill just before he was going into action. I say it's a scandalous lie. Admiral, Admiral, I didn't say you were ill. Only you looked ill. A little nervous or so. Rather pale, huh? Is it not so? Confound you. Do you think I want to be physical? I tell you, I am not a little, but a great inclination to give you a good keel hauling. I don't want a doctor just yet. But it may not be so long, you know, Admiral, but there is Jack Pringle waiting you below. Will you go to him? There is a particular reason he has something to communicate from Sir Francis Varney, I believe. The Admiral gave a look of some amazement at Mr. Chillingworth, and then he said, muttering to himself, if Jack Pringle should have betrayed me. But, no, he cannot do that. He is too true. I am sure of Jack. And how did that son of a gallop-pot hint about the odd fish I sent Jack to? Filled with a dubious kind of belief, which he had about something he had heard of Jack Pringle, he entered the room where he met Marchdale, Jack Pringle, and Henry Bannerworth. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Chillingworth entered the apartment. I have, said he, been to Sir Francis Varney, and there had an interview with him and with Mr. Pringle. When I found we were both intent upon the same object, namely, an encounter with the knight by our principles. Hey, said the Admiral. What? exclaimed Henry. Had he challenged you, Admiral? Challenge me, exclaimed Admiral Bell, with a round oath. However, since it comes to this, I must admit I challenged him. That's what I did, said Henry Bannerworth, after a moment's thought, and I perceive we have both fallen into the same line of conduct. That is the fact, said Mr. Chillingworth. Both Mr. Pringle and I went there to settle the preliminaries, and we found an insurmountable bar to any meeting taking place at all. He wouldn't fight then, exclaimed Henry. I see it all now. Not fight, said Admiral Bell, with a sort of melancholy disappointment. Damn the cowardly rascal! Tell me, Jack Pringle, what did the long horse-marine-looking slab say to it? He told me he would fight. Why, he ought to be made to stand sentry over the wind. You challenged him in person, too, I suppose, said Henry. Yes, confound him. I went there last night. And I, too. It seems to me, said Marchdale, that this affair has not been indiscreetly conducted, but somewhat unusually and strangely, to say the least of it. You see, said Chillingworth, Sir Francis was willing to fight both Henry and the Admiral, as he told us. Yes, said Jack. He told us he would fight us both, if so be as his light was not doused in the first brush. That was all that was wanted, said the Admiral. We could expect no more. But then he desired to meet you without any second. But, of course, I would not exceed to this proposal. The responsibility was too great and too unequally born by the parties engaged in the re-contra. Decidedly, said Henry. But it is unfortunate, very unfortunate. Very, said the Admiral. Very. What a rascally thing it is there ain't another rogue in the country to keep him in countenance. I thought it was a pity to spoil sport, said Jack Pringle. It was a pity a good intention should be spoiled, and I promised the wampire that if as how he would fight, you should second him, and you'd meet him to do so. Eh? Who? I? exclaimed the Admiral, in some perplexity. Yes, that is the truth, said Mr. Chillingworth. Mr. Pringle said you would do so, and he then and there pledged his word that you should meet him on the ground and second him on it. Yes, said Jack. You must do it. I knew you would not spoil sport, and that there had better be a fight than no fight. I believe you'd soon to see a scrimmage than none, and so it's all arranged. Very well, said the Admiral. I only wish Mr. Henry Bannerworth had been his second. I think I was entitled to the first meeting. No, said Jack. You weren't. For Mr. Chillingworth was there first. First come, first served, you know. Well, well, I mustn't grumble at another man's luck. Mine'll come in turn, but it had better be so than a disappointment altogether. I'll be second to this, Sir Francis Varney. He shall have fair play, as I'm an Admiral, but damned he shall fight. Yes. Yes, he shall fight. And to this conclusion I would come, said Henry. I wish him to fight. Now I will take care that he shall not have any opportunity of putting me on one side quietly. There is one thing, observed Marchdale, that I wish to propose. After what has passed I should not have returned had I not some pre-sentiment that something was going forward in which I could be useful to my friend. Oh! said the Admiral, with a huge twist of his countenance. What I was about to say was this. Mr. Chillingworth has much to lose as he is situated, and I nothing as I am placed. I am chained down to no spot of earth. I am above following a profession. My means, I mean, place me above the necessity. Now, Henry, allow me to be your second in this affair. Allow Mr. Chillingworth to attend in his professional capacity. He may be of service, of great service to one of the principles, whereas, if he go in any other capacity, he will inevitably have his own safety to consult. That is most unquestionably true, said Henry, and, to my mind, the best plan that can be proposed. What do you say, Admiral Bell? Will you act with Mr. Marchdale in this affair? Oh, I. Yes, certainly. I don't care. Mr. Marchdale is Mr. Marchdale, I believe, and that's all I care about. If we quarrel today and have anything to do tomorrow, in course, tomorrow I can put off my quarrel for next day. It'll keep. That's all I have to say at present. Then this is a final arrangement, said Mr. Chillingworth. It is. But, Mr. Bannerworth, in resigning my character of second to Mr. Marchdale, I only do so because it appears and seems to be the opinion of all present that I can be much better employed in another capacity. Certainly, Mr. Chillingworth, and I cannot but feel that I am under the same obligations to you for the readiness and zeal with which you have acted. I have done what I have done, said Chillingworth, because I believed it was my duty to do so. Mr. Chillingworth has undoubtedly acted most friendly and efficiently this affair, said Marchdale, and he does not relinquish the part for the purpose of escaping a friendly deed, but to perform one in which he may act in a capacity that no one else can. That is true, said the Admiral. And now, said Chillingworth, you are to meet tomorrow morning in the meadow at the bottom of the valley, halfway between here and Sir Francis Varney's house, at seven o'clock in the morning. More conversation passed among them, and it was agreed that they should meet early the next morning, and that, of course, the affair should be kept a secret. Marchdale, for that night, should remain in the house, and the Admiral should appear as if little or nothing was the matter, and he and Jack Pringle retired to talk over in private all the arrangements. Henry Bannerworth and Marchdale also retired, and Mr. Chillingworth, after a time retired, promising to be with them in time for the meeting next morning. Much of that day was spent by Henry Bannerworth in his own apartment, in writing documents and letters of one kind and another, but at night he had not finished, for he had been compelled to be about, and in Flora's presence, to prevent anything from being suspected. Marchdale was much with him, and in secret examined the arms, ammunition, and bullets, and saw all was right for the next morning, and when he had done, he said, Now, Henry, you must permit me to insist that you take some hours repose, else you will scarcely be as you ought to be. Very good, said Henry, I have just finished, and can take your advice. After many thoughts and reflections, Henry Bannerworth fell into a deep sleep, and slept several hours in calmness and quietude, and at an early hour he awoke, and saw Marchdale sitting by him. Is it time, Marchdale, I have not overslept myself, have I? No, time enough, time enough, said Marchdale. I should have let you sleep longer, but I should have awakened you in good time. It was now the gray light of morning, and Henry arose and began to prepare for the encounter. Marchdale stole to Admiral Bell's chamber, but he and Jack Pringle were ready. Few words were spoken, and those few were in a whisper, and the whole party left the hall in as noiseless a manner as possible. It was a mild morning, and yet it was cold at that time of the morning, just as day is beginning to dawn in the east. There was, however, ample time to reach the rendezvous. It was a curious party that which was now proceeding towards the spot appointed for the duel, the result of which might have so important an effect on the interests of those who were to be engaged in it. It would be difficult for us to analyze the different and conflicting emotions that filled the breasts of the various individuals composing that party, the hopes and fears, the doubts and surmises that were given utterance to. Though we are compelled to acknowledge that, though to Henry, the character of the man he was going to meet in mortal fight was of a most ambiguous and undefined nature, and though no one could imagine the means he might be endowed with for protection against the arms of man, Henry, as we said, strode firmly forward with unflinching resolution. His heart was set on recovering the happiness of his sister, and he would not falter. So far, then, we may consider that at length proceedings of a hostile character were so far clearly and fairly arranged between Henry Bannerworth and that most mysterious being who certainly, from some cause or another, had betrayed no inclination to meet an opponent in that manner which is sanctioned, bad as it is by the usages of society. But whether his motive was one of cowardice or mercy remained yet to be seen. It might be that he feared himself receiving some mortal injury, which would at once put a stop to that preternatural career of existence which he affected to shudder at, and yet evidently took considerable pains to prolong. Upon the other hand, it is just possible that some consciousness of invulnerability on his own part, or of great power to injure his antagonist, might be the cause why he had held back so long from fighting the duel and placed so many obstacles in the way of the usual necessary arrangements incidental to such occasions. Now, however, there would seem to be no possible means of escape. Sir Francis Barney must fight or fly, for he was surrounded by too many opponents. To be sure, he might have appealed to the civil authorities to protect him and to sanction him in his refusal to commit what undoubtedly is a legal offense. But then there cannot be a question that the whole of the circumstances would come out and meet the public eye, the result of which would be his acquisition of a reputation as unenviable as it would be universal. It had so happened that the peculiar position of the Bannerworth family kept their acquaintance within extremely narrow limits and greatly indisposed them to set themselves up as marks for peculiar observation. Once holding, as they had, a proud position in the county and being looked upon as quite magnates of the land, they did not now court the prying eye of curiosity to look upon their poverty, but rather with a gloomy melancholy they lived apart and repelled the advances of society by a cold reserve which few could break through. Had this family suffered in any noble cause, or had the misfortunes which had come over them and robbed their ancestral house of its luster been an unavoidable dispensation of providence, they would have borne the hard position with a different aspect. But it must be remembered that to the faults, the vices, and the criminality of some of their race was to be attributed their present depressed state. It has been seen during the progress of our tale that its actions had been tolerably confined to Bannerworth Hall, its adjacent meadows, and the seat of Sir Francis Varney, the only person at any distance knowing anything of the circumstances, or feeling any interest in them being Mr. Chillingworth, the surgeon who, from personal feeling as well as from professional habit, was not likely to make a family's affairs a subject of gossip. A change, however, was at hand, a change of a most startling and alarming character to Varney, one which he might expect yet not be well prepared for. This period of serenity was to pass away and he was to become most alarmingly popular. We will not, however, anticipate, but proceed at once to detail as briefly as may be the hostile meeting. It would appear that Varney, now that he had once consented to the definitive arrangements of a duel, shrunk not in any way from carrying him out, nor in the slightest attempted to retard arrangements which might be fatal to himself. The early morning was one of those cloudy ones so frequently occurring in our fickle climate, when the cleverest weather prophet would find it difficult to predict what the next hour might produce. There was a kind of dim gloominess over all objects, and as there were no bright lights, there were no deep shadows, the consequence of which was a sameness of effect over the landscape that robbed it of many of its usual beauties. Such was the state of things when Marchdale accompanied Henry and Admiral Bell from Bannerworth Hall across the garden in the direction of the hilly wood, close to which was the spot intended for the scene of encounter. Jack Pringle came on at a lazy pace behind with his hands in his pockets, and looking as unconcerned as if he had just come out for a morning stroll, and scarcely knew whether he saw what was going on or not. The curious contortion into which he twisted his countenance, and the different odd-looking lumps that appeared in it from time to time, may be accounted for by a quit of unusual size, which he seemed to be masticating with a relish quite horrifying to one unused to so barbarous a luxury. The Admiral had strictly enjoined him not to interfere on pain of being considered a lubber, and no semen for the remainder of his existence. Threatened penalties, which, of course, had their own weight with Jack, and accordingly he came just to see the row in as quiet a way as possible, perhaps not without a hope that something might turn up in the shape of cause's belly that might justify him in adopting a threatening attitude toward somebody. Now, Master Henry, said the Admiral, none of your paliver to me as we go along. Recollect I don't belong to your party, you know. I've stood friend of two or three fellows in my time, but if anybody had said to me, Admiral Bell, the next time you go out on a quiet little shooting party, it'll be a second to a vampire, I'd have said you're a liar. How some ever, damn me, here you goes. And what I mean to say is this, Mr. Henry, that I'd second even a Frenchman rather than he shouldn't fight when he's asked. That's liberal of you, said Henry, at all events. I believe you it is, said the Admiral. So, mind, if you don't hit him, I'm not going to tell you how. All you've got to do is to fire low, but that's no business of mine. Shiver my timbers. I oughtn't tell you, but damn you, hit him if you can. Admiral, said Henry, I can hardly think you are even preserving a neutrality in the matter, putting aside my own partisanship as regards to your own man. Oh, hang him. I'm not going to let him creep out of the thing on such a shabby pretense. I can tell you, I think I ought to have gone to his house this morning. Only, as I said, I never would cross his threshold again. I won't. I wonder if he'll come, said Mr. Marchdale to Henry. After all, you know, he may take to flight and shun an encounter which, it is evident, he has entered into, but tardily. I hope not, said Henry, and yet I must own that your supposition has several times crossed my mind. If, however, he do not meet me, he never can appear the country, and we should at least be rid of him and all his troubles and importunities concerning the hall, I would not allow that man on any account to cross the threshold of my house as its tenant or its owner. Why, it ain't usual, said the Admiral, to let one's house to two people at once, unless you seem quite to forget that I've taken yours. I may as well remind you of it. Hurrah, said Jack Pringle at that moment. What's the matter with you? Who told you to hurrah? Enemy in the offering, said Jack. Three or four points to the cell west. So he is, by Jove, dodging about among the trees. Come now, this vampire is a decenter fellow than I thought him. He means, after all, to let us have a pop at him. They had now reached so close to the spot that Sir Francis Varney, who, to all appearance, had been waiting, emerged from among the trees, rolled up in his dismal-looking cloak, and, if possible, looking longer and thinner than ever he had looked before. His face were a singular, cadaverous-looking aspect. His very lips were white, and there was a curious, pinkish-looking circle round each of his eyes that imparted to his whole countenance a most uninviting appearance. He turned his eyes from one to the other of those who were advancing towards him, until he saw the admiral, upon which he gave such a grim and horrible smile that the old man exclaimed, I say, Jack, you lover, there's a face for a figurehead. Aye, aye, sir. Did you ever see such a damned grin as that in your life in any latitude? Aye, aye, sir. You did, you swab. I should think so. It's a lie, and you know it. Very good, said Jack. Don't you recollect when that ear-iron bullet walked over your head, leaving a nice little nick all the way off, burgin' up Zoom? That was the time. Blessed if you didn't give just such a grin as that. I didn't, you rascal. And I say you did. Mutiny, by God. Go to blazes. How far this contention might have gone, having now reached its culminating point, had the admiral and Jack been alone, it is hard to say. But as it was, Henry and Marchdale interfered, and so the quarrel was patched up for the moment in order to give place to more important affairs. Varney seemed to think that after the smiling welcome he had given to his second, he had done quite enough. For there he stood, tall and gaunt and motionless, if we may accept an occasional singular movement of the mouth, and a clap together of his teeth, at times which was enough to make anybody jump to hear. For heaven's sake, said Marchdale, do not let us trifle at such a moment as this, Mr. Pringle. You really had no business here. Mr. Who? said Jack. Pringle, I believe, is your name, returned Marchdale. It were, but bloat if ever I was called Mr. before. The admiral walked up to Sir Francis Varney and gave him a nod that looked much more like one of defiance than of salutation, to which the vampire replied by a low, courtly bow. Oh, brother, muttered the old admiral, if I was to double up my backbone like that, I should never get it down straight again. Well, all's right, you've come. That's all you could do, I suppose. I am here, said Varney, and therefore it becomes a work of super-arrogation to remark that I've come. Oh, does it? I never bolted a dictionary, and therefore I don't know exactly what you mean. Step aside with me a moment, admiral Bell, and I will tell you what you are to do with me after I am shot, if such should be my fate. Do with you, damned if I'll do anything with you. I don't expect you will regret me, you will eat. Eat? Yes, and drink as usual, no doubt, notwithstanding being witnessed to the decease of a fellow creature. Belay there, don't call yourself a fellow creature of mine. I ain't a vampire. But there's no knowing what you may be, and now listen to my instructions, for as you're my second, you cannot very well refuse to me a few friendly offices. Rain is falling. Step beneath this ancient tree, and I will talk to you. End of Chapter 38, Recording by Roger Maline Prescott Pressed Chapter 39 The storm and the fight. The admiral's repudiation of his principal. Well! said the admiral when they were fairly under the tree, upon the leaves of which the pattering rain might be heard falling. Well, what is it? If your young friend, Mr. Bannerworth, should chance to send a pistol bullet through any portion of my anatomy, prejudicial to the prolongation of my existence, you will be so good as not to interfere with anything I may have about me, or to make any disturbance whatever. You may depend, I shan't. Just take the matter perfectly easy, as a thing of course. Oh! I mean damned easy. What a delightful thing is friendship. There is a little knoll on Mounderworth, midway between here and the hall. Do you happen to know it? There is one solitary tree growing near its summit, an oriental-looking tree of the fur tribe, which, fan-like, spreads its deep green leaves across the azure sky. Oh, bother it, it's a damned old tree growing upon a little bit of a hill, I suppose you mean? Precisely. Only much more poetically expressed. The moon rises at a quarter-past four tonight, or rather, tomorrow morning. Does it? Yes, and if I should happen to be killed, you will have me removed gently to this Mounderworth, and there laid beneath this tree with my face upwards, and take care that it is done before the moon rises. You can watch that no one interferes. A likely job! What a deuce do you take me for? I tell you what it is, Mr. Vampire, or Varni, or whatever your name. If you should chance to be hit, wherever you chance to fall, there you will lie. How very unkind! Uncommon, ain't it? Well, well, since that is your determination, I must take care of myself in another way. I can do so, and I will. Take care of yourself how you like for all I care. I've come here to second you, to see that on the honor of Seaman. If you're put out of the world, it's done in a proper manner. That's all I have to do with you? Now you know. Sir Francis Varni looked after him with a strange kind of smile, as he walked away to make the necessary preparations with Marchdale, for the immediate commencement of the contest. These were simple and brief. It was agreed that twelve paces should be measured out, six each way, from a fixed point, one sixth to be paced by the admiral, and the other by Marchdale. Then they were to draw lots to see at which end this imaginary line Varni was to be placed. After this the signal for firing was to be one, two, three, fire. A few minutes sufficed to complete these arrangements, the ground was measured in the manner we have stated, and the combatants placed in their respective positions, Sir Francis Varni occupying the same spot where he had at first stood, namely that nearest to the little wood, and to his own residence. It is impossible that under such circumstances the bravest and the calmest of mankind could fail to feel some slight degree of tremor or uneasiness, and although we can fairly claim for Henry Bannerworth that he was as truly courageous as any right-feeling Christian man could wish to be, yet when it was possible that he stood within as it were a hair's breadth of eternity, a strange world of sensation and emotions, found a home in his heart, and he could not look altogether undaunted all on that future which might for all he knew to the contrary be so close at hand as far as he was concerned. It was not that he veered death, but that he looked with a decent gravity upon so grave a change as that from this world to the next, and hence it was that his face was pale and that he looked all the emotion which he really felt. This was the aspect and the bearing of a brave but not a reckless man, while Sir Francis Varney, on the other hand, seemed now that he had fairly engaged in the duel, to look upon it in all its attendant circumstances with a kind of smirking satisfaction, as if he were far more amused and then personally interested. This was certainly the more extraordinary after the manner in which he had tried to evade the fight, and at all events was quite a sufficient proof that cowardice had not been his actuating motive in doing so. The admiral who stood on a level with him could not see the sort of expression he wore or probably he would have been far from well pleased. But the others did, and they found something inexpressibly disagreeable in this smirking kind of satisfaction with which the vampires seemed to regard now the proceedings. Can't found him, whispered Marchdale to Henry. One would think he was quite delighted. Instead, as we had imagined him, not well pleased at these proceedings. Look how he grins. It is no matter, said Henry, let him wear what aspect he may. It is the same to me, and as heaven is my judge, I here declare, if I did not think myself justified in so doing I would not raise my hand against this man. There can be no shadow of a doubt regarding your justification. Have at him, and heaven protect you. Amen. The admiral was about to give the word to fire. And now he and Marchdale, having stepped sufficiently on one side to be out of all possible danger from any stray shot, he commenced repeating the signal. Are you ready, gentlemen? Once. They looked sternly at each other, and each grasped his pistol. TWICE! Sir Francis Varney smiled and looked around him, as if the affair were one of the most common place of description. TWICE! Varney seemed to be studying the sky rather than attending to the duel. FIRE! cried the admiral, and one report only struck upon the ear. It was that from Henry's pistol. All eyes were turned upon Sir Francis Varney. Who had evidently reserved his fire for what purpose could not be devised, except a murderous one, the taking of a more steady aim at Henry. Sir Francis, however, seemed in no hurry, but smiled significantly, and gradually raised the point of his weapon. Did you hear the word, Sir Francis? I gave it loud enough, I am sure. I never spoke plainer in my life. Did I ever, Jack? TWICE! You so often, said Jack Pringle. What's the use of your asking such a yarns as them? You know you have done so often enough when you wanted, Grog. You damned rascal! I'll… I'll have your back scored, I will. So you will win your float again, which you never will be. You are paid off, that's certain. You lovely lout! You ain't a seaman. A seaman would never mutiny against his admiral. How some ever do hear, Sir Francis. I'll give the matter up if you don't pay some attention to me. Henry looked steadily at Varney, expecting every moment to feel his bullet. Mr. Marchdale hastily exclaimed that this was not according to usage. Sir Francis Varney took no notice, but went on elevating his weapon when it was perpendicular to the earth he fired in the air. I had not anticipated this, said Marchdale as he walked to Henry. I thought he was taking a more deadly aim. And I, said Henry. Ah, you have escaped, Henry. Let me congratulate you. Not so fast. We may fire again. I can afford to do that, he said with a smile. You should have fired, sir, according to custom, said the admiral. This is not the proper thing. What fire at your friend? Oh, that's all very well. You are my friend for a time, vampire, as you are. And I intend you shall fire. If Mr. Henry Bannerworth demands another fire, I have no objection to it, and will fire at him. But as it is, I shall not do so. Indeed, it would be quite useless for him to do so, to point mortal weapons at me as mere child's play. They will not hurt me. The devil they want, said the admiral. Why, look you here, said Sir Francis Varney, stepping forward and placing his hand to his neckerchief. Look you here. If Mr. Henry Bannerworth should demand another fire, he may do so with the same bullet. The same bullet, said Marchdale, stepping forward. The same bullet. How is this? My eyes! said Jack. Who'd have thought it? Here's a go. Wouldn't need you for a dummy to lead a fallen hope, but to put in among the borders. Here, said Sir Francis, handing a bullet to Henry Bannerworth. Here is the bullet you shot at me. Henry looked at it. It was blackened by powder. And then Marchdale seized it and tried it in the pistol, but found the bullet fitted Henry's weapon. By heaven it is so! he exclaimed, stepping back and looking at Varney from top to toe in horror and amazement. Damn you, said the admiral. If I understand this, why, Jack Pringle, you dog, here's a strange fish. Oh, now there's plenty on them in some countries. Would you insist upon another fire, or may I consider you satisfied? I shall object, said Marchdale. Henry, this affair must go no further. It would be madness, worse than madness, to fight upon such terms. So say I, said the admiral. I will not have anything to do with you, Sir Francis. I'll not be your second any longer. I didn't bargain for such a game as this. You might as well fight with the man in brass armour, at the Lord Mayor's show, or the champion at a coronation. Oh, said Jack Pringle, a man may use well fire at the back of a alligator as a vampire. This must be considered as having been concluded, said Mr. Marchdale. No, said Henry. And wherefore not? Because I have not received his fire. Heaven forbid you should. I may not with honour quit the ground without another fire. Under ordinary circumstances there might be some shadow of an excuse for your demand, but as it is there is none. You have neither honour nor credit to gain by such an encounter, and certainly you can gain no object. How are we to decide this affair? Am I considered absolved from the accusation under which I lay of cowardice? Enquired Sir Francis Varney with a cold smile. Why, as for that, said the admiral, I should as soon expect credit for fighting behind a wall, as were the men that I couldn't hit any more than the moon. Henry, let me implore you to quit this scene, if I can do no good. At this moment a noise, as of human voices, was heard at a distance. This caused a momentary pause, and the whole party stood, still and listened. The murmurs and shouts that now arose in the distance were indistinct and confused. What can all this mean? said Marchdale. There is something very strange about it I cannot imagine a cause for so unusual in occurrence. Nor I, said Sir Francis Varney, looking suspiciously at Henry Bannerworth. Upon my honour, I know now that what is the cause and all the nature of the sounds themselves. Then we can easily see what does the matter from yonder hillock, said the admiral. And there's Jack Pringle, he's up there already. What's he telegraphing about in that manner, I wonder. The fact was, Jack Pringle, hearing the riot, had thought that if he got to the neighbouring eminence he might possibly ascertain what it was that was the cause of what he termed the row, and had succeeded, in some degree. There were a number of people of all kinds coming out from the village, apparently armed, and shouting. Jack Pringle hitched up his trousers and swore, then took off his hat, and began to shout to the admiral as he said, Damn you, they are too late to spoil in the sport. Hello, hurrah! What's all that about, Jack? inquired the admiral as he came puffing along. What's the squall about? Only a few horse marines and bumbo women. They had been startled like a company of penguins. Oh, my eyes! Wouldn't a whole broadside set them flying, Jack? Aye, just as them Frenchmen that you murdered on board the big thunderer, as you called it. I murdered them, you rascal! Yes, there was about five hundred of them killed. They were only shot. They were killed, and your conscience tells you it's uncomfortable. You rascal! You villain! You ought to be keel-hauled and well-paid. Ah, you're paid and paid off as an old hulk. Damn you, you! You! Oh, I wish I had you on board ship. I'd make your lovely carcass like a Union Jack, full of red and blue stripes. Oh, it's all very well, but if you don't take to your heels, you'll have all the old women in the village are whacking on you. That's all I have to say about it. You'd better port your helmet about ship, or you'll be keel-hauled. Damn you! What's the matter, inquired Marchdale, as he arrived? What's the cause of all the noise we have heard? said Sir Francis. Has some village festival spontaneously burst forth among the rustics of this place? I cannot tell the cause of it, said Henry Bannerworth. But they seem to me to be coming toward this place. Indeed, I think so too, said Marchdale. With what object? Inquired Sir Francis Varney. No peaceable one, observed Henry. For as far as I can observe they struck across the country as though they would enclose something or intercept somebody. Indeed, but why come here? If I knew that, I would have it once told the cause. And they appear armed with a variety of odd weapons, observed Sir Francis. They mean an attack upon someone. Who is that man with them? He seems to be deprecating their coming. That appears to be Mr. Chillingworth, said Henry. I think that is he. Yes, observed the admiral. Oh, I think I know the build of that craft. He's been in our society before. I always know ship as soon as I see it. Do as you do, said Jack. Yes, what do you mean, eh? Let me hear what you've got to say against your captain and your admiral. You mutinous dog. You tell me, I say. So I will. You thought you were fighting a big ship in a fog, and fired a few dozen broadsides or so, and it was only the flying Dutchman or the devil. You infernal dog. Well, you know it was. It might have been our own shadow for all I can tell. Indeed, I think it was. You think? Yes. That's mutiny. All I have no more to do with you, Jack Pringle. You're no seaman of them, no respect for your officer. Now shear off, or I'll cut your yards. Why, as for my yards or square and presently if I like, you old swab, but as for leaving you very well. You have said so, and you shall be accommodated, damn you. However, it was not so when your knob was nearly rowed through with a boarding pike. It wasn't all I have no more to do with Jack Pringle, then. It was more to other. Well, then, might be some mutinous. Because you, I, grow aches me. The cries of the mob became more distinct as they drew nearer to the party, who began to event some uneasiness as to their object. Surely, said Marchdale, Mr. Chillingworth has not named anything respecting the duel that has taken place. No, no. But he was to have been here this morning, said the admiral. I understood he was to be here in his own character of a surgeon, and yet I have not seen him, have any of you? No, said Henry. Then here he comes in the character of a conservator of the public piece, said Varney coldly. However, I'd leave it as errant to be useless, since the affair is, I presume, concluded. Turn with the vampire. They, said the admiral. Hey, what's that, eh? What did they say? If you listen, they'll tell you soon enough, I'll warrant. Maybe they will, and yet I'd like to know now. Sir Francis Varney looked significantly at Marchdale, and then waited with downcast eyes. For the repetition of the words. Down with the vampire. Resounded on all sides from the people who came rapidly towards them, and converging towards a centre. Burn, destroy, and kill the vampire. No vampire. Burn him out. Down with him. Kill him. Then came Mr. Chillingworth's voice, who with much earnestness, endeavoured to exhort them to moderation, and to refrain from violence. Sir Francis Varney became very pale and agitated. He immediately turned, and without taking the least notice he made for the wood, which lay between him and his own house, leaving the people in the greatest agitation. Mr. Marchdale was not unmoved at this occurrence, but stood his ground with Henry Bannerworth, the admiral, and Jack Pringle, until the mob came very near to them, shouting and uttering cries of vengeance, and death of all imaginable kinds that it was possible to conceive, against the unpopular vampire. Pending the arrival of these infuriated town persons, we will in a few words state how it was that so suddenly a set of circumstances arose productive to an amount of personal danger to Varney, such as, up to that time, had seemed not at all likely to occur. We have before stated there was but one person out of the family of Bannerworths who was able to say anything of a positive character concerning the singular and inexplicable proceedings at the whole, and that that person was Mr. Chillingworth, an individual not at all likely to become garrulous upon the subject. But alas the best of men have their weaknesses, and we much regret to say that to Mr. Chillingworth so far in this instance forgot that admirable discretion which commonly belonged to him, as to be the cause of the popular tumult which had now reached such a height, in a moment thoughtlessness and confidence, he told his wife, yes, this really clever man from whom one would not have expected such a piece of horrible indiscretion, actually told his wife all about the vampire. But such as human nature combined at with an amount of firmness and reasoning power that one would have thought to be invulnerable safeguards, we find some weakness which astonishes all calculation. Such was this of Mr. Chillingworths. It is true he cautioned the lady to be secret, and pointed to her the danger of making Varney the Vampire a theme for gossip, but he might as well have whispered to a hurricane to be so good as not to go on blowing so, as request Mrs. Chillingworth to keep a secret. Of course she burst into the usual declarations of who was she to tell, was she a person who went about telling things, when did she see anybody, not she once in a blue moon. And then when Mr. Chillingworth went out like the king of Atahite, she invited the neighbors around about to come to take some tea, under solemn promises of secrecy. Sixteen ladies that evening were made acquainted with the full and interesting particulars of the attack of the vampire on Flora Bannerworth, and all the evidence inculpating Sir Francis Varney as the blood-thirsty individual. When the mind comes to consider the sixteen ladies multiplied their information by about four and twenty each, we become quite lost in a sea of arithmetic and feel compelled to sum up the whole by a candid assumption that in four and twenty hours not an individual in the whole town was ignorant of the circumstances. On the morning before the projected duel there was an unusual commotion in the streets. People were conversing together in little knots and using rather violent gesticulations. Poor Mr. Chillingworth, he alone was ignorant of the causes of the popular commotion, and so he went to bed wondering that an unusual bustle pervaded the little market town, but not at all guessing its origin. Somehow or another, however, the populace who had determined to make a demonstration on the following morning against the vampire thought it highly necessary, first, to pay some sort of compliment to Mr. Chillingworth, and accordingly, at an early hour, a great mob assembled outside his house and gave three terrific applauding shouts which roused him most unpleasantly from his sleep, and induced the greatest astonishment at the cause of such a tumult. Oh, that artful Mrs. Chillingworth too well. She knew what was the matter, yet she pretended to be so oblivious upon the subject. Good God! cried Mr. Chillingworth as he started up in bed. What's all that? Oh, what! said his wife. Oh, what! Do you mean you heard nothing? Well, I think I did hear a little sort of something. A little sort of something? It shook the house. Well, well, never mind. It's no business of ours. Yes, but it may be, though. It's all very well. Does it go to sleep? That happens to be a thing I can't do. There's something amiss. Well, what's that to you? Perhaps nothing, but perhaps everything. Mr. Chillingworth sprang from his bed and began dressing. A process which he executed with considerable rapidity, which was much accelerated by two or three supplementary shouts from the people below. Then in a temporary lull, a loud voice shouted, Down with the vampire! Down with the vampire! The truth, in an instant, burst over the mind of Mr. Chillingworth, and turning to his wife, he exclaimed, I understand it now. You've been gossiping about Sir Francis Varney, and have caused all this tumult. I gossip? Well, I never lay it on me. It's sure to be my fault. I might have known that beforehand. I always am. But he must have spoken of it. Who have I got to speak to about it? Did you, or did you not? Who should I tell? Mr. Chillingworth was dressed, and he hastened down and entered the street with great desperation. He had a hope that he might be enabled to disperse the crowd, and yet be in time to keep his appointment at the duel. His appearance was hailed with another shout, for it was considered, of course, that he had come to join in the attack on Sir Francis Varney. He found assembled a much more considerable mob than he had imagined, and to his alarm he found many armed, with all sorts of weapons. Cried a great lumpy-looking fellow who seemed half mad with prospect of a disturbance. Here's the doctor. He'll tell us all about it while we go along. For heaven's sake, said Mr. Chillingworth, stop. What are you about to do, all of you? Burn the vampire! Burn the vampire! Hold! Hold! This is folly. Let me employ you all to return to your homes, or you will get into serious trouble on this subject. This was a piece of advice not at all likely to be adopted. And when the mob found that Mr. Chillingworth was not disposed to encourage and countenance it in its violence, it gave another loud shout of defiance, and moved off through the long, straggling streets of the town in a direction towards Sir Francis Varney's house. It is true that what were called authorities of the town had become alarmed and were stirring, but they found themselves in such a frightful minority that it became out of the question for them to interfere with any effect to stop the lawless proceedings of the rioters, so that the infuriated populace had it all their own way, and in a straggling, disorderly looking kind of procession they moved off, vowing vengeance as they went, against Varney the vampire. Hopeless as Mr. Chillingworth thought it was to interfere with any degree of effect to stop the lawless proceedings of the mob, he still could not reconcile it to himself to be absent from a scene which he now felt certain had been produced by his own imprudence, so he went with the crowd, endeavouring as he did by every argument that could be suggested to him to induce them to abstain from the acts of violence they contemplated. He had a hope, too, that when they reached Sir Francis Varney's finding him not within, as probably would be the case, as by the time he would have started to meet Henry Bannerworth on the ground to fight the duel, he might induce the mob to return and forgo their meditated violence. And thus it was that, urged on by the multitude of persons, the unhappy surgeon was expiating in both mind and person the serious mistakes he had committed in trusting a secret to his wife. Let it not be supposed that we for one moment wish to lay down a general principle as regards the confiding secrets to ladies, because from the beginning of the world it has become notorious how well they keep them and with what admirable discretion, tact, and forethought this fairest portion of humanity conduct themselves. We know how few Mrs. Chillingworths there are in the world, and have but to regret that our friend the doctor should in his matrimonial adventure have met with such a specimen. CHAPTER 40 of VARNEY THE VAMPIRE 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 Scott Carpenter. VARNEY THE VAMPIRE VOLUME 1 by Thomas Prescott Prest. CHAPTER 40 THE POPPULAR RIOT Sir Francis Varney's danger. The suggestion and its results. Such, then, were the circumstances which at once altered the whole aspect of the affairs, and from private and domestic causes of very deep annoyance led to public results of a character which seemed likely to involve the whole countryside in the greatest possible confusion. But while we blame Mr. Chillingworth for being so indiscreet as to communicate the secret of such a person as Varney the Vampire to his wife, we trust in a short time to be able to show that he made as much reparation as it was possible to make for the mischief he had unintentionally committed. And now as he struggled onward, apparently onward, first and foremost among the rioters, he was really doing all in his power to quell that tumult which superstition and dread had raised. Human nature truly delights in the marvelous, and in proportion as a knowledge of the natural phenomena of nature is restricted, and unbridled imagination allowed to give the rain to fathomless conjecture. We shall find an eagerness likewise to believe the marvelous to be the truth. That dim and uncertain condition concerning vampires originating probably as it had done in Germany had spread itself very slowly, but insidiously throughout the whole of the civilized world. In no country and in no climb is there not something which bears a kind of family relationship to the veritable vampire of which Sir Francis Varney appeared to be so choice a specimen. The ghoul of Eastern nations is but the same being altered to suit habits and localities, and the semah of the Scandinavians is but the vampire of a more primitive race, and a personification of that morbid imagination which has once fancied the probability of the dead walking again among the living with all the frightful insignia of corruption and the grave about them. Although not popular in England, still there had been tales told of such midnight visitants, so that Mrs. Chillingworth, when she had imparted the information which she had obtained, had already some rough material to work upon in the minds of her auditors, and therefore there was no great difficulty in very soon establishing the fact. Under such circumstances ignorant people always do what they have heard was done by someone else before them, and in an incredibly short space of time the propriety of catching Sir Francis Varney depriving him of his vampire-like existence and driving a stake through his body became not at all a questionable proposition. Alas, poor Mr. Chillingworth, as well he might have attempted King Canute's task of stemming the waves of the ocean as that of attempting to stop the crowd from proceeding to Sir Francis Varney's house. His very presence was a sort of confirmation of the whole affair. In vain he gesticulated, in vain he begged and prayed that they would go back, and in vain he declared that full and ample justice should be done upon the vampire provided popular clamors spared him, and he was left to more deliberate judgment. Those who were foremost in the throng paid no attention to these remonstrances while those who were more distant heard them not, and for all they knew he might be urging the crowd on to violence instead of deprecating it. Thus, then, this disorderly rabble now reached the house of Sir Francis Varney and loudly demanded of his terrified servants where he was to be found. The knocking at the hall door was prodigious, and with a laudable desire doubtless of saving time the moment one was done amusing himself with the ponderous knocker another seized it so that until the door was flung open by some of the bewildered and terrified men there was no cessation whatever of the furious demand for admittance. Varney the Vampire! Varney the Vampire! cried a hundred voices. Death to the vampire! Where is he? Bring him out! Varney the Vampire! The servants were too terrified to speak for some moments, as they saw such a tumultuous assembly seeking their master while so singular a name was applied to him. At length one more bold than the rest contrived to stammer out. My good people, Sir Francis Varney is not at home. He took an early breakfast and has been out nearly an hour. The mob paused a moment and indecision, and then one of the foremost cried, Who'd suppose they'd only was at home? He's hiding somewhere, of course. Let's pull him out! Pull him out! Pull him out! cried many voices. A rush was made into the house, and in a very few minutes its chambers were ransacked and all its hidden places carefully searched with the hope of discovering the hidden form of Sir Francis Varney. The servants felt that, with their inefficient strength to oppose the proceedings of an assemblage which seemed to be unchecked by all sort of law or reason would be madness, they therefore only looked on with wonder and dismay, satisfied certainly in their own minds that Sir Francis would not be found, and indulging in much conjecture as to what would be the result of such a violent and unexpected proceedings. Mr. Chillingworth hoped that time was gained and that some sort of indication of what was going on would reach the unhappy object of popular detestation sufficiently early to enable him to provide for his own safety. He knew he was breaking his own engagement to be present at the duel between Henry Donnerworth and Sir Francis Varney, and as that thought recurred to him he dreaded that his professional services might be required on one side or the other. For he knew or fancied he knew that mutual hatred dictated the contest, and he thought that if ever a duel had taken place which was likely to be attended with some disastrous result that was surely the one. But how could he leave, watched and surrounded as he was by an infuriated multitude? How could he hope but that his footsteps would be dogged, or that the slightest attempt of his to convey a warning to Sir Francis Varney would not be the means of bringing down upon his head the very danger he sought to shield him from? In this state of uncertainty, then, did our medical man remain a prey to the bitterest reflections and full of the direst apprehensions, without having the slightest power of himself to alter or so disastrous a train of circumstances? Disatisfied with their non-success, the crowd twice searched the house of Sir Francis Varney, from the attics to the basement, and then, and not until then, did they begin reluctantly to believe that the servants must have spoken the truth. He's in the town somewhere, cried one. Let's go back to the town. It is strange how suddenly any mob will obey any impulse, and this perfectly groundless supposition was sufficient to turn their steps back again in the direction once they came, and they had actually, in a straggling sort of column, reached halfway towards the town, when they encountered a boy whose professional pursuit consisted in tending sheep very early of a morning, and who at once informed them that he had seen Sir Francis Varney in the wood, halfway between Bannerworth Hall and his own home. This event at once turned the whole tide again, and with renewed clamors carrying Mr. Chillingworth along with them, they now rapidly neared the real spot where probably, had they turned little earlier, they would have viewed the object of their suspicion and hatred. But as we have already recorded, the advancing throng was seen by the parties on the ground, where the duel could scarcely have been said to have been fought, and then had Sir Francis Varney dashed into the wood, which was so opportunely at hand, to have ford him a shelter from his enemies, and from the intricacies of which well acquainted with them, as he doubtless was, he had every chance of eluding their pursuit. The whole affair was a great surprise to Henry and his friends. When they saw such a string of people advancing with such shouts and imprecations, they could not for the life of them imagine what could have excited such a turnout among the ordinarily industrious and quiet inhabitants of a town remarkable rather for the quietude and steadiness of its population than for any violent outbreaks of popular feeling. What can Mr. Chillingworth be about, said Henry, to bring such a mob here? Has he taken leave of his senses? Nay, you said Marchdale, look again. He seems to be trying to keep them back, although ineffectually, for they will not be stayed. Damn you, said the admiral. Here's a gang of pirates. We shall be boarded and carried before we know where we are, Jack. Aye, aye, sir, said Jack. And is that all you've got to say, you lobber, when you see your admiral in danger? You'd better go and make terms with the enemy at once. Really, this is serious, said Henry. They shout for Varnay. Can Mr. Chillingworth have been so mad as to adopt this means of stopping the duel? Impossible, said Marchdale. If that had been his intention, he could have done so quietly through the medium of the civil authorities. Hang me, exclaimed the admiral. If there are any civil authorities, they talk of smashing somebody. What do they say, Jack? I don't hear quite so well as I used. You always was a little deaf, said Jack. What? Oh, little deaf, I say. Why, you lovely lying swab, how dare you say so? Because you was. You slave-going scoundrel. For heaven's sake, do not quarrel at such a time as this, said Henry. We shall be surrounded in a moment. Come, Mr. Marchdale, let you and I visit these people and ascertain what it is that has so much excited that indignation. Agreed, said Marchdale, and they both stepped forward at a rapid pace to meet the advancing throng, the crowd which had now approached to within a short distance of the expectant little party was of a most motley description, and its appearance under many circumstances would cause considerable visibility. Men and women were mixed indiscriminately together, and in the shouting, the latter of such a thing were possible exceeded the former both in discordance and energy. Every individual composing that mob carried some weapon calculated for defense such as flails, scythes, sickles, bludgeons, etc., and this mode of arming caused them to wear a most formidable appearance. While the passion that superstition had called up was strongly depicted in their inflamed features, their fury too had been excited by their disappointment, and it was with concentrated rage that they now pressed onward. The calm and steady advance of Henry and Mr. Marchdale to meet the advancing throng seemed to have the effect of retarding their progress a little, and they came to a parley at a hedge, which separated them from the meadow in which the duel had been fought. You seem to be advancing towards us, said Henry. Do seek me or any of my friends, and if so, upon what errand? Mr. Chillingworth, for heaven's sake, explain what is the cause of all this tumult. You seem to be at the head of it. Seem to be, said Mr. Chillingworth, without being so, you are not sought nor any of your friends. Who then, Sir Francis Varney, was the immediate reply. Indeed, and what has he done to incite popular indignation? Of private wrong, I can accuse him, but I desire no crowd to take up my cause or to avenge my quarrels. Mr. Burnerworth, it has become known through my indiscretion that Sir Francis Varney is suspected of being a vampire. Is this so? Hurrah! shouted the mob. Down with the vampire. Hurrah! Where is he? Do run him. Drive a state through him, said a woman. It's the only way, and a humanistist. You've only got to take a head stake, and sharpen it a bit at one end, and char it a little in the fire, so as there may be no splinters to hurt, and then poke it through his stomach. The mob gave a great shout at this humane piece of advice, and it was some time before Henry could make himself heard at all, even to those who were nearest to him. When he succeeded in doing so, he cried with a loud voice. Hear me, all of you, it is quite needless for me to inquire how you became possessed of the information that a dreadful suspicion hangs over the person of Sir Francis Varney. But if in consequence of hearing such news, you fancy this public demonstration will be agreeable to me, or likely to relieve those who are nearest or dearest to me from the state of misery and apprehension into which they have fallen, you are much mistaken. Hear him, hear him! cried Mr. Marchdale. He speaks both wisdom and truth. If anything, pursued Henry, could add to the annoyance of vexation and misery we have suffered, it would assuredly be the being made subject of everyday clamour. You hear him! said Mr. Marchdale. Yes, we does, said a man. But we comes out to catch a vampire for all that. Oh, to be sure, said the humane woman. Now, but his feelings is nothing to us. Are we to be woke up in the middle of the night with vampires sucking bloods while we've got a steak in the country? Hurrah! shouted everybody. Down with the vampire! Where is he? You are wrong! I assure you, you are all wrong! said Mr. Chillingworth imploringly. There is no vampire here. You see, Sir Francis Varni has not only escaped, but he will take the law of all of you. This was an argument which appeared to stagger a few, but the bolder spirits pushed them on, and a suggestion to search the wood having been made by someone who was more cunning than his neighbours, that measure was at once proceeded with, and executed in a systematic manner, which made those who knew it to be the hiding place of Sir Francis Varni tremble for his safety. It was with a strange mixture of feeling that Henry Bannerworth waited the result of the search for the man who, but a few minutes before, had been opposed to him at a contest of life or death. The destruction of Sir Francis Varni would certainly have been an effectual means of preventing him from continuing to be incubus, he then was, upon the Bannerworth family, and yet the generous nature of Henry shrank with horror from seeing even such a creature's Varni sacrificed at the shrine of popular resentment and murdered by an infuriated populace. He felt as great an interest in the escape of the vampires of some great advantage to himself had been contingent upon such an event, and although he spoke not a word, while the echoes of the little wood were all awakened by the clamorous manner in which the mob searched for their victim, his feelings could be read well upon his countenance. The admiral too, without possessing probably the fine feelings of Henry Bannerworth, took an unusually sympathetic interest in the fate of the vampire, and after placing himself in various attitudes of intense excitement, he exclaimed, Damn it, Jack, I do hope after all the vampire will get the better of them. It's like a whole flotilla attacking one vessel, a lovely proceeding at the best, and I'll be hanged if I like it. I should like to pour in a broadside into those fellows just to let them see it wasn't a proper English mode of fighting. Shouldn't you, Jack? Aye, aye, sir, I should. Shiver me if I see an opportunity, if I don't let some of those rascals know what's what. Scarcely had these words escaped the lips of the old admiral, then there arose a loud shout from the interior of the wood. It was a shout of success, and seemed at the very least to herald the capture of the unfortunate Varney. By heaven, exclaimed Henry, they have him. God forbid, said Mr. Marchdale, this grows too serious. Bear a hand, Jack, said the admiral. We'll have a fight for it yet. They shot murder even a vampire in cold blood, load the pistols, and send a flying shot or two among the rascals the moment they appear. No, no, said Henry. No more violence. There has been enough. There has been enough. Even as he spoke, there came rushing from the trees, at the corner of the wood, the figure of a man. They needed but one glance to assure them who it was. Sir Francis Varney had been seen and was flying before those implacable foes who had sought his life. He had divested himself of his huge cloak as well as of his low slouched hat, and with a speed which nothing but the most absolute desperation could have enabled him to exert, he rushed onward, beating down before him every obstacle, and bounding over the meadows at a rate that if he could have continued it for any length of time would have set pursuit at defiance. Bravo shouted the admiral. A stern chase is a long chase, and I wish them joy of it. Damn you, Jack, did you ever see anybody get along like that? You never did, you scoundrel. Yes, so I did. When and where? When you ran away off the sound. The admiral turned nearly blue with anger, but Jack looked perfectly imperturbable as he added. You know, you ran away after the French frigates who wouldn't stay to fight with you? Ah, that indeed. There he goes, putting on every stitch of canvas. I'll be bound. And Erecom said Jack as he pointed to the corner of the wood, and some of the more active of the vampire's pursuers showed themselves. It would appear as if the vampire had been started from some hiding place in the interior of the wood, and had then thought it expedient altogether to leave that retreat and make his way to some more secure one across the open country, where there would be more obstacles to his discovery than perseverance could overcome. Probably then among the brushwood and trees for a few moments he had been again lost sight of until those who were closest upon his track had emerged from among the dense foliage and saw him scouring across the country at such headlong speed. These were but few, and in their extreme anxiety themselves to capture Varney, whose precipate and terrified flight brought a firm conviction to their minds of his being a vampire, they did not stop to get much of a reinforcement but plunged on like greyhounds in his track. Jack, said the admiral, this won't do. Look at that great, lovely fellow with a queer smock frock. There was all such a figurehead in my life, said Jack. Stop him! Aye, aye, sir. The man was coming on at a prodigious rate, and Jack, with all the deliberation in the world advanced to meet him, and when they got sufficiently close together that in a few moments they must encounter each other, Jack made himself into as small a bundle as possible and presented his shoulder to the advancing countrymen in such a way that he flew off it at a tangent, as if he had ran against a brick wall, and after rolling head over heels for some distance safely deposited himself in a ditch, where he disappeared completely for a few moments from all human observation. Don't say I'll hit you, said Jack. Curse you, what did you run against me for? Sounds you right. Love says don't know how to steer in. Course runs again, things. Bravo, said the admiral. There's another of them. The pursuers of Varney the Vampire, however, now came too thick and fast to be so easily disposed of. And as soon as his figure could be seen coursing over the meadows and springing over road and ditch, with an agility almost frightful to look upon, the whole rabble route was in pursuit of him. By this time the man who had fallen into the ditch had succeeded in making his appearance in the visible world again, and as he crawled up the bank looking a thing of mire and mud, Jack walked up to him with all the carelessness in the world and said to him, Any luck, old chap? Oh, murder, said the man. What do you mean? Who are you? Where am I? What's the matter? Old Master Fowler, the fat crowner, will set upon me now. Have you caught anything, said Jack? Caught anything? Yes, you've been in for reals, haven't you? Damn! Well, it is odd to me as some people can't go a fish in without getting out of temper. Have it your own way, I won't interfere with you. And away Jack walked. The man cleared the mud out of his eyes as well as he could, and looked after him with a powerful suspicion that in Jack he saw the very cause of his mortal mishap, but somehow or other, his immersion in the not-over-limped stream had wonderfully cooled his courage, and casting one despairing look upon his begrimed apparel, and another at the last of the stragglers who were pursuing Sir Francis Varney across the fields, he thought it prudent to get home as fast he could, and get rid of the disagreeable results of an adventure which had turned out for him anything but auspicious or pleasant. Mr. Chillingworth, as though by a sort of impulse to be present in case Sir Francis Varney should really be run down, and with a hope of saving him from personal violence, had followed the foremost of the rioters in the wood, found it now quite impossible for him to carry on such a chase as that which was being undertaken across the fields after Sir Francis Varney. His person was unfortunately but ill-qualified for the continuance of such a pursuit, and although with the greatest reluctance, he at last felt himself compelled to give it up. In making his way through the intricacies of the wood, he had been seriously incommodated by the thick undergrowth, and had accidentally encountered several miry pools with which he had involuntarily made a closer acquaintance than was at all conducive, either to his personal appearance or comfort. The doctor's temper, though, generally speaking, one of the most even, was at last affected by his mishaps, and he could not refrain from an execration upon his want of prudence and letting's wife have a knowledge of a secret that was not his own, and the producing of an unlooked-for circumstance, the termination of which might be of a most disastrous nature. Tired, therefore, and nearly exhausted by the exertions he had already taken, he emerged now along from the wood, and near the spot were stood Henry Bannerworth and his friends in consultation. The jaded look of the surgeon was quite sufficient indication of the trouble and turmoil he had gone through, and some expressions of sympathy for his condition were dropped by Henry, to whom he replied, My young friend, I deserve it all. I have nothing but my own indiscretion to thank for all the turmoil and tumult that has arisen this morning. But to what possible cause can we attribute such an outrage? Reproach me as much as you will, I deserve it. A man may pray to his own secrets if he like, but he should be careful of those of other people. I trusted yours to another, and am properly punished. Enough, said Henry. We'll say no more of that, Mr. Chillingworth. What is done cannot be undone, and we had better spend our time in reflection of how to make the best of what is, than in useless lamentation over its causes. What is to be done? Nay, I know not. Have you fought the duel? Yes, and as you perceive, harmlessly. Thank heaven for that. Nay, I had my fire which Sir Francis Barney refused to return, so the affair had just ended, where the sound of approaching tumult came upon our ears. What a strange mixture, exclaimed Marchdale, of feelings and passions this Barney appears to be, at one moment acting with the apparent greatest malignity, and another seeming to have awakened in his mind a romantic generosity which knows no bounds. I cannot understand him. Nor I indeed, said Henry, but somehow tremble for his fate, and I seem to feel that something ought to be done to save him from the fearful consequences of popular feeling. Let us hasten to the town and procure what assistance we may, but a few persons well-organized and properly armed will achieve wonders against a desultory and ill-appointed multitude. There may be a chance of saving him yet, from the imminent danger which surrounds him. That's proper, cried the Admiral. I don't like to see anybody run down, or fairfights another thing. Yard-arm and yard-arm, stink-pots and pipkins, broadside to broadside, and throw in your bodies, if you like, on the leak-water, but don't do anything shabby. What do you think of it, Jack? What remains to say is how if Barney only keeps on sale as he's been doing, the Devil himself wouldn't catch him in a gale. And yet, said Henry, it is our duty to do the best we can. Let us at once to the town and summons all the assistance in our power. Come on, come on. His friends needed no further urging, but at a brisk pace they all proceeded by the nearest footpaths towards the town. It puzzled his pursuers to think in what possible direction Sir Francis Varney expected to find sustenance or succor when they saw how curiously he took his flight across the meadows. Instead of endeavoring by any circuitous path to seek the shelter of his own house or to throw himself upon the care of the authorities of the town who must, to the extent of their power, have protected him, he struck across the welds apparently without aim or purpose, seemingly intent upon nothing but to distance his pursuers in a long chase, which might possibly tire them or it might not, according to their or his powers of endurance. We say this seemed to be the case, but it was not so in reality. Sir Francis Varney had a deeper purpose, and it was scarcely to be supposed that the man of his subtle genius, and apparently far-seeing and reflecting intellect, could have so far overlooked the many dangers of his position not to be fully prepared for some such contingency as that which had just now occurred, holding as he did so strange a place in society, living among men, and yet possessing so few attributes in common with humanity. He must all along have felt the possibility of drawing upon himself popular violence. He could not wholly rely upon the secrecy of the Bannerworth family, much as they might well be supposed to shrink from giving publicity to circumstance of so fearfully strange and perilous a nature as those which had occurred amongst them. The nearest accident might at any moment make him the town's talk, the overhearing of a few chance words by some gossiping domestic, some ebullition of anger or annoyance by some member of the family, or a communication from some friend who had been treated with confidence, might at any time awaken around him such a storm as that which now raged at his heels. Varney the Vampire must have calculated this, he must have felt the possibility of such a state of things, and as a matter of course, politically provided himself with some place of refuge. After about twenty miles of hard chasing across the fields, there could be no doubt of his intentions. He had such a place of refuge, and stranger one as it might appear, he sped towards it in as direct a line as ever a well sped arrow flew towards its mark. That place of refuge to the surprise of everyone appeared to be the ancient ruin of which we have before spoken, and which was so well known to every inhabitant of the county. Truly it seemed like some act of mere desperation for Sir Francis Varney to hope there to hide himself. There remained within of what had once been a stately pile, but a few gray crumbling walls which the hunted hare would have passed unheeded, knowing that not for one instant could he have baffled his pursuers by seeking so inefficient a refuge. At those who followed hard and fast upon the track of Sir Francis Varney, felt so sure of their game when they saw whether he was speeding that they relaxed in their haste considerably, calling loudly to each other that the Vampire was caught at last. For he could be easily surrounded among the old ruins and dragged from amongst its moss-grown walls. In another moment, with a wild dash and cry of exultation, he sprang out of sight, behind an angle formed by what had been, at one time, one of the principal supports of the ancient structure. Then, as if there was still something so dangerous about him, that only by a great number of hands could he be hoped to be secured. The infuriated peasantry gathered in a dense circle around what they considered his temporary place of refuge, and as the sun, which had now climbed above the treetops and dispersed in a great measure many of the heavy clouds of the morning shone down upon the excited group, they might have been supposed there assembled to perform some superstitious rite which time had hallowed as an association of the crumbling ruin around which they stood. By the time the whole of the stragglers who had persisted in the chase had come up, there might have been about fifty or sixty resolute men, each intent upon securing the person of one whom they felt while in existence would continue to be a terror to all the weaker and dearer portions of their domestic circles. There was a pause of several minutes. Those who had come the fleetest were gathering breath, and those who had come up last were looking to their more forward companions for some information as to what had occurred before their arrival. All was profoundly still within the ruin, and then suddenly as if by common consent there arose from every throat a loud shout of down with the vampire, down with the vampire. The echoes of that shout died away, and then all was still as before while a superstitious feeling crept over the boldest. It would almost seem as if they had expected some kind of response from Sir Francis Varney to the shout of defiance with which they had just greeted him. But the very calmness, repose, and absolute quiet of the ruin, and all about it, alarmed them, and they looked the one at the other as if the adventure, after all, were not one of the pleasantest description and might not fall out so happily as they had expected. Yet what danger could there be? There were they, more than half the hundred stout, strong men to cope with one. They felt convinced that he was completely in their power. They knew the ruins could not hide him, and that five minutes' time, given to the task, would suffice to explore every nook and corner of them. And yet they hesitated while an unknown terror shook their nerves, and seemingly from the very fact that they had run down their game successfully, they dreaded to secure the trophy of the chase. One bold spirit was wanting, and if it was not a bold one that spoke at length, he might be complimented as being comparatively such. It was one who had not been foremost in the chase, perchance from want to physical power, who now stood forward and exclaimed, What are you waiting for now? You can have him when you like. If you want your wives and children to sleep quietly in their beds, you will secure the vampire. Come on, we all know he's here. Why do you hesitate? Do you expect me to go alone and draw him out by the earth? Any voice would have suffice to break the spell which bound them. This did so, and with one accord, and yells of implications, they rushed forward and plunged among the old walls of the ruin. Less time than we have before remarked would have enabled anyone to explore the tottering fabric sufficient to bring a conviction to their minds that after all there might have been some mistake about the matter, and Sir Francis Varney was not quite caught yet. It was astonishing how the fact of not finding him in a moment again roused all their angry feelings against him, and dispelled every feeling of superstitious awe with which he had been surrounded. Rage gave place to the sort of shuttering horror with which they had before contemplated his immediate destruction, when they had believed him to be virtually within their very grasp. Over and over again the ruins were searched, hastily and impatiently by some, carefully and deliberately by others, until there could be no doubt upon the mind of every one individual that somehow or somewhere within the shadow of those walls Sir Francis Varney had disappeared, most mysteriously. Then it would have been a strange sight for an indifferent spectator to have seen how they shrunk one by one out of the shadow of those ruins, each seeming to be afraid that the vampire in some mysterious manner would catch him if he happened to be the last within their somber influence. And when they had all collected in the bright open space some little distance beyond, they looked at each other and at the ruin, with dubious expressions of countenance, each no doubt wishing that each would suggest something of a consolatory or practicable character. What's to be done now? said one. Ah, that's it. Said another, sententiously. I'll be hanged if I know. He's given us the slip! remarked a third. But he can't have given us the slip, said one man who was particularly famous for a dogmatical spirit of argumentation. How is it possible? He must be here, and I say he is here. Find him then! cried several at once. Oh, that's nothing to do with the argument. He's here whether we find him or not. One very cunning fellow laid his finger on his nose and beckoned to a comrade to retire some paces where he delivered himself of the following very oracular sentiment. My good friend, you must know Sir Francis Vani is here, or he isn't. Agreed, agreed! Well, if he isn't here, it's no use troubling our heads any more about him. But otherwise it's quite another thing, and upon the whole I must say that I rather think he is. All looked at him, for it was evident he was big with some suggestion. After a pause he resumed. Now, my good friends, I propose that we all appear to give it up and to go away, but that some one of us shall remain and hide among the ruins for some time. To watch, in case the vampire makes his appearance from some hole or corner that we haven't found out. Oh, capital! said everybody. Then you all agree to that. Yes, yes! Very good. That's the only way to nick him. Now we'll pretend to give it up. Let's all of us talk loud about going home. They did all talk loud about going home. They swore that it was not worth the trouble of catching him, that they gave it up as a bad job, that he might go to the deuce in any way he liked, for all they cared. And then they all walked off in a body when the man who had made the suggestion suddenly cried. Hello! Hello! Stop! Stop! You know one of us is to wait. Oh, why? Yes, yes, yes! said everybody. And still they moved on. But really, you know, what's the use of this? Who's to wait? That was indeed a naughty question, which induced a serious consultation, and ending in there all with one accord, pitching upon the author of the suggestion, as by far the best person to hide in the ruins and catch the vampire. Then they all set off at full speed, but the cunning fellow, who certainly had not the slightest idea of so practically carrying out his own suggestion, scampered off after them, with a speed that soon brought him in the midst of the throng again, and so with fear in their looks, and all the evidences of fatigue about them, they reached the town to spread fresh and more exaggerated accounts of the mysterious conduct of Varney, the vampire.