Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (68 page)

"It
may well become such."

"Who
comes here? I hear a step."

There
was a tip at the door at this moment, and George made his appearance in answer
to the summons to come in. He looked pale and ill; his face betrayed how much
he had mentally suffered during that night, and almost directly he got into the
bed-chamber he said,—

"I
shall, I am sure, be censured by you both for what I am going to say; but I
cannot help saying it, nevertheless, for to keep it to myself would destroy
me."

"Good
God, George! what is it?" said Mr. Marchdale.

"Speak
it out!" said Henry.

"I
have been thinking of what has occurred here, and the result of that thought
has been one of the wildest suppositions that ever I thought I should have to
entertain. Have you never heard of a vampyre?"

Henry
sighed deeply, and Marchdale was silent.

"I
say a vampyre," added George, with much excitement in his manner. "It
is a fearful, a horrible supposition; but our poor, dear Flora has been visited
by a vampyre, and I shall go completely mad!"

He
sat down, and covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly and
abundantly.

"George,"
said Henry, when he saw that the frantic grief had in some measure
abated—"be calm, George, and endeavour to listen to me."

"I
hear, Henry."

"Well,
then, do not suppose that you are the only one in this house to whom so
dreadful a superstition has occurred."

"Not
the only one?"

"No;
it has occurred to Mr. Marchdale also."

"Gracious
Heaven!"

"He
mentioned it to me; but we have both agreed to repudiate it with horror."

"To—repudiate—it?"

"Yes,
George."

"And
yet—and yet—"

"Hush,
hush! I know what you would say. You would tell us that our repudiation of it
cannot affect the fact. Of that we are aware; but yet will we disbelieve that
which a belief in would be enough to drive us mad."

"What
do you intend to do?"

"To
keep this supposition to ourselves, in the first place; to guard it most
zealously from the ears of Flora."

"Do
you think she has ever heard of vampyres?"

"I
never heard her mention that in all her reading she had gathered even a hint of
such a fearful superstition. If she has, we must be guided by circumstances,
and do the best we can."

"Pray
Heaven she may not!"

"Amen
to that prayer, George," said Henry. "Mr. Marchdale and I intend to
keep watch over Flora to-night."

"May
not I join you?"

"Your
health, dear George, will not permit you to engage in such matters. Do you seek
your natural repose, and leave it to us to do the best we can in this most fearful
and terrible emergency."

"As
you please, brother, and as you please, Mr. Marchdale. I know I am a frail
reed, and my belief is that this affair will kill me quite. The truth is, I am
horrified—utterly and frightfully horrified. Like my poor, dear sister, I do
not believe I shall ever sleep again."

"Do
not fancy that, George," said Marchdale. "You very much add to the
uneasiness which must be your poor mother's portion, by allowing this
circumstance to so much affect you. You well know her affection for you all,
and let me therefore, as a very old friend of hers, entreat you to wear as
cheerful an aspect as you can in her presence."

"For
once in my life," said George, sadly, "I will; to my dear mother,
endeavour to play the hypocrite."

"Do
so," said Henry. "The motive will sanction any such deceit as that,
George, be assured."

The
day wore on, and Poor Flora remained in a very precarious situation. It was not
until mid-day that Henry made up his mind he would call in a medical gentleman
to her, and then he rode to the neighbouring market-town, where he knew an
extremely intelligent practitioner resided. This gentleman Henry resolved upon,
under a promise of secrecy, makings confidant of; but, long before he reached
him, he found he might well dispense with the promise of secrecy.

He
had never thought, so engaged had he been with other matters, that the servants
were cognizant of the whole affair, and that from them he had no expectation of
being able to keep the whole story in all its details. Of course such an
opportunity for tale-bearing and gossiping was not likely to be lost; and while
Henry was thinking over how he had better act in the matter, the news that
Flora Bannerworth had been visited in the night by a vampyre—for the servants
named the visitation such at once—was spreading all over the county.

As he
rode along, Henry met a gentleman on horseback who belonged to the county, and
who, reining in his steed, said to him,

"Good
morning, Mr. Bannerworth."

"Good
morning," responded Henry, and he would have ridden on, but the gentleman
added,—

"Excuse
me for interrupting you, sir; but what is the strange story that is in
everybody's mouth about a vampyre?"

Henry
nearly fell off his horse, he was so much astonished, and, wheeling the animal
around, he said,—

"In
everybody's mouth!"

"Yes;
I have heard it from at least a dozen persons."

"You
surprise me."

"It
is untrue? Of course I am not so absurd as really to believe about the vampyre;
but is there no foundation at all for it? We generally find that at the bottom
of these common reports there is a something around which, as a nucleus, the
whole has formed."

"My
sister is unwell."

"Ah,
and that's all. It really is too bad, now."

"We
had a visitor last night."

"A
thief, I suppose?"

"Yes,
yes—I believe a thief. I do believe it was a thief, and she was
terrified."

"Of
course, and upon such a thing is grafted a story of a vampyre, and the marks of
his teeth being in her neck, and all the circumstantial particulars."

"Yes,
yes."

"Good
morning, Mr. Bannerworth."

Henry
bade the gentleman good morning, and much vexed at the publicity which the
affair had already obtained, he set spurs to his horse, determined that he
would speak to no one else upon so uncomfortable a theme. Several attempts were
made to stop him, but he only waved his hand and trotted on, nor did he pause
in his speed till he reached the door of Mr. Chillingworth, the medical man
whom he intended to consult.

Henry
knew that at such a time he would be at home, which was the case, and he was
soon closeted with the man of drugs. Henry begged his patient hearing, which
being accorded, he related to him at full length what had happened, not
omitting, to the best of his remembrance, any one particular. When he had
concluded his narration, the doctor shifted his position several times, and
then said,—

"That's
all?"

"Yes—and
enough too."

"More
than enough, I should say, my young friend. You astonish me."

"Can
you form any supposition, sir, on the subject?"

"Not
just now. What is your own idea?"

"I
cannot be said to have one about it. It is too absurd to tell you that my
brother George is impressed with a belief a vampyre has visited the
house."

"I
never in all my life heard a more circumstantial narrative in favour of so
hideous a superstition."

"Well,
but you cannot believe—"

"Believe
what?"

"That
the dead can come to life again, and by such a process keep up vitality."

"Do
you take me for a fool?"

"Certainly
not."

"Then
why do you ask me such questions?"

"But
the glaring facts of the case."

"I
don't care if they were ten times more glaring, I won't believe it. I would
rather believe you were all mad, the whole family of you—that at the full of
the moon you all were a little cracked."

"And
so would I."

"You
go home now, and I will call and see your sister in the course of two hours.
Something may turn up yet, to throw some new light upon this strange
subject."

With
this understanding Henry went home, and he took care to ride as fast as before,
in order to avoid questions, so that he got back to his old ancestral home
without going through the disagreeable ordeal of having to explain to any one
what had disturbed the peace of it.

When
Henry reached his home, he found that the evening was rapidly coming on, and
before he could permit himself to think upon any other subject, he inquired how
his terrified sister had passed the hours during his absence.

He
found that but little improvement had taken place in her, and that she had
occasionally slept, but to awaken and speak incoherently, as if the shock she
had received had had some serious affect upon her nerves. He repaired at once
to her room, and, finding that she was awake, he leaned over her, and spoke
tenderly to her.

"Flora,"
he said, "dear Flora, you are better now?"

"Harry,
is that you?"

"Yes,
dear."

"Oh,
tell me what has happened?"

"Have
you not a recollection, Flora?"

"Yes,
yes, Henry; but what was it? They none of them will tell me what it was,
Henry."

"Be
calm, dear. No doubt some attempt to rob the house."

"Think
you so?"

"Yes;
the bay window was peculiarly adapted for such a purpose; but now that you are
removed here to this room, you will be able to rest in peace."

"I
shall die of terror, Henry. Even now those eyes are glaring on me so hidiously.
Oh, it is fearful—it is very fearful, Henry. Do you not pity me, and no one
will promise to remain with me at night."

"Indeed,
Flora, you are mistaken, for I intend to sit by your bedside armed, and so
preserve you from all harm."

She
clutched his hand eagerly, as she said,—

"You
will, Henry. You will, and not think it too much trouble, dear Henry."

"It
can be no trouble, Flora."

"Then
I shall rest in peace, for I know that the dreadful vampyre cannot come to me
when you are by-"

"The
what, Flora!"

"The
vampyre, Henry. It was a vampyre."

"Good
God, who told you so?"

"No
one. I have read of them in the book of travels in Norway, which Mr. Marchdale
lent us all."

"Alas,
alas!" groaned Henry. "Discard, I pray you, such a thought from your
mind."

"Can
we discard thoughts. What power have we but from that mind, which is ourselves?"

"True,
true."

"Hark,
what noise is that? I thought I heard a noise. Henry, when you go, ring for
some one first. Was there not a noise?"

"The
accidental shutting of some door, dear."

"Was
it that?"

"It
was."

"Then
I am relieved. Henry, I sometimes fancy I am in the tomb, and that some one is
feasting on my flesh. They do say, too, that those who in life have been bled
by a vampyre, become themselves vampyres, and have the same horrible taste for
blood as those before them. Is it not horrible?"

"You
only vex yourself by such thoughts, Flora. Mr. Chillingworth is coming to see
you."

"Can
he minister to a mind diseased?"

"But
yours is not, Flora. Your mind is healthful, and so, although his power extends
not so far, we will thank Heaven, dear Flora, that you need it not."

She
sighed deeply, as she said,—

"Heaven
help me! I know not, Henry. The dreadful being held on by my hair. I must have
it all taken off. I tried to get away, but it dragged me back—a brutal thing it
was. Oh, then at that moment, Henry, I felt as if something strange took place
in my brain, and that I was going mad! I saw those glazed eyes close to, mine—I
felt a hot, pestiferous breath upon my face—help—help!"

"Hush!
my Flora, hush! Look at me."

"I
am calm again. It fixed its teeth in my throat. Did I faint away?"

"You
did, dear; but let me pray you to refer all this to imagination; or at least
the greater part of it."

"But
you saw it."

"Yes—"

"All
saw it."

"We
all saw some man—a housebreaker—It must have been some housebreaker. What more
easy, you know, dear Flora, than to assume some such disguise?"

"Was
anything stolen?"

"Not
that I know of; but there was an alarm, you know."

Flora
shook her head, as she said, in a low voice,—