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) (88 page)

In
the mean time, the young Count de Hugo de Verole was confined in the mines, and
the doctor with him.

By a
strange coincidence, the doctor and the young count became companions, and the
former, meditating projects of revenge, educated the young count as well as he
was able for several years in the mines, and cherished in the young man a spirit
of revenge. They finally escaped together, and proceeded to Leyden, where the
doctor had friends, and where he placed his pupil at the university, and thus
made him a most efficient means of revenge, because the education of the count
gave him a means of appreciating the splendour and rank he had been deprived
of. He, therefore, determined to remain at Leyden until he was of age, and then
apply to his father's friends, and then to his sovereign, to dispossess and
punish them both for their double crime.

The
count and countess lived on in a state of regal splendour. The immense revenue
of his territory, and the treasure the late count had amassed, as well as the
revenue that the mines brought in, would have supported a much larger
expenditure than even their tastes disposed them to enjoy.

They
had heard nothing of the escape of the doctor and the young count. Indeed,
those who knew of it held their peace and said nothing about it, for they
feared the consequences of their negligence. The first intimation they received
was at the hands of a state messenger, summoning them to deliver up the castle
revenues and treasure of the late count.

This
was astounding to them, and they refused to do so, but were soon after seized
upon by a regiment of cuirassiers sent to take them, and they were accused of
the crime of murder at the instance of the doctor.

They
were arraigned and found guilty, and, as they were of the patrician order,
their execution was delayed, and they were committed to exile. This was done
out of favour to the young count, who did not wish to have his family name
tainted by a public execution, or their being confined like convicts.

The
count and countess quitted Hungary, and settled in Italy, where they lived upon
the remains of the Count of Morven's property, shorn of all their splendour but
enough to keep them from being compelled to do any menial office.

The
young count took possession of his patrimony and his treasure at last, such as
was left by his mother and her paramour.

The
doctor continued to hide his crime from the young count, and the perpetrators
denying all knowledge of it, he escaped; but he returned to his native place,
Leyden, with a reward for his services from the young count.

Flora
rose from her perusal of the manuscript, which here ended, and even as she did
so, she heard a footstep approaching her chamber door.

THE DREADFUL MISTAKE.—THE TERRIFIC INTERVIEW IN THE
CHAMBER.—THE ATTACK OF THE VAMPYRE.

The
footstep which Flora, upon the close of the tale she had been reading, heard
approaching her apartment, came rapidly along the corridor.

"It
is Henry, returned to conduct me to an interview with Charles's uncle,"
she said. "I wonder, now, what manner of man he is. He should in some
respects resemble Charles; and if he do so, I shall bestow upon him some
affection for that alone."

Tap—tap
came upon the chamber door. Flora was not at all alarmed now, as she had been
when Henry brought her the manuscript. From some strange action of the nervous
system, she felt quite confident, and resolved to brave everything. But then
she felt quite sure that it was Henry, and before the knocking had taken her by
surprise.

"Come
in," she said, in a cheerful voice. "Come in."

The
door opened with wonderful swiftness—a figure stepped into the room, and then
closed it as rapidly, and stood against it. Flora tried to scream, but her
tongue refused its office; a confused whirl of sensations passed through her
brain—she trembled, and an icy coldness came over her. It was Sir Francis
Varney, the vampyre!

He
had drawn up his tall, gaunt frame to its full height, and crossed his arms
upon his breast; there was a hideous smile upon his sallow countenance, and his
voice was deep and sepulchral, as he said,—

"Flora
Bannerworth, hear that which I have to say, and hear it calmly. You need have
nothing to fear. Make an alarm—scream, or shout for help, and, by the hell
beneath us, you are lost!"

There
was a death-like, cold, passionless manner about the utterance of these words,
as if they were spoken mechanically, and came from no human lips.

Flora
heard them, and yet scarcely comprehended them; she stepped slowly back till
she reached a chair, and there she held for support. The only part of the
address of Varney that thoroughly reached her ears, was that if she gave any
alarm some dreadful consequences were to ensue. But it was not on account of
these words that she really gave no alarm; it was because she was utterly
unable to do so.

"Answer
me," said Varney. "Promise that you will hear that which I have to
say. In so promising you commit yourself to no evil, and you shall hear that
which shall give you much peace."

It
was in vain she tried to speak; her lips moved, but she uttered no sound.

"You
are terrified," said Varney, "and yet I know not why. I do not come
to do you harm, although harm have you done me. Girl, I come to rescue you from
a thraldom of the soul under which you now labour."

There
was a pause of some moments' duration, and then, faintly, Flora managed to
say,—

"Help!
help! Oh, help me, Heaven!"

Varney
made a gesture of impatience, as he said,—

"Heaven
works no special matters now. Flora Bannerworth, if you have as much intellect
as your nobility and beauty would warrant the world in supposing, you will
listen to me."

"I—I
hear," said Flora, as she still, dragging the chair with her, increased
the distance between them.

"'Tis
well. You are now more composed."

She
fixed her eyes upon the face of Varney with a shudder. There could be no
mistake. It was the same which, with the strange, glassy looking eyes, had
glared upon her on that awful night of the storm when she was visited by the
vampyre. And Varney returned that gaze unflinchingly There was a hideous and
strange contortion of his face now as he said,—

"You
are beautiful. The most cunning statuary might well model some rare work of art
from those rounded limbs, that were surely made to bewitch the gazer. Your skin
rivals the driven snow—what a face of loveliness, and what a form of
enchantment."

She
did not speak, but a thought came across her mind, which at once crimsoned her
cheek—she knew she had fainted on the first visit of the vampyre, and now he,
with a hideous reverence, praised beauties which he might have cast his
demoniac eyes over at such a time.

"You
understand me," he said. "Well, let that pass. I am something allied
to humanity yet."

"Speak
your errand," gasped Flora, "or come what may, I scream for help to
those who will not be slow to render it."

"I
know it."

"You
know I will scream?"

"No;
you will hear me. I know they would not be slow to tender help to you, but you
will not call for it; I will present to you no necessity."

"Say
on—say on."

"You
perceive I do not attempt to approach you; my errand is one of peace."

"Peace
from you! Horrible being, if you be really what even now my appalled
imagination shrinks from naming you, would not even to you absolute
annihilation be a blessing?"

"Peace,
peace. I came not here to talk on such a subject. I must be brief, Flora
Bannerworth, for time presses. I do not hate you. Wherefore should I? You are
young, and you are beautiful, and you bear a name which should command, and
does command, some portion of my best regard."

"There
is a portrait," said Flora, "in this house."

"No
more—no more. I know what you would say."

"It
is yours."

"The
house, and all within, I covet," he said, uneasily. "Let that
suffice. I have quarrelled with your brother—I have quarrelled with one who
just now fancies he loves you."

"Charles
Holland loves me truly."

"It
does not suit me now to dispute that point with you. I have the means of
knowing more of the secrets of the human heart than common men. I tell you,
Flora Bannerworth, that he who talks to you of love, loves you not but with the
fleeting fancy of a boy; and there is one who hides deep in his heart a world
of passion, one who has never spoken to you of love, and yet who loves you with
a love as far surpassing the evanescent fancy of this boy Holland, as does the
mighty ocean the most placid lake that ever basked in idleness beneath a
summer's sun."

There
was a wonderful fascination in the manner now of Varney. His voice sounded like
music itself. His words flowed from his tongue, each gently and properly
accented, with all the charm of eloquence.

Despite
her trembling horror of that man—despite her fearful opinion, which might be
said to amount to a conviction of what he really was, Flora felt an
irresistible wish to hear him speak on. Ay, despite too, the ungrateful theme
to her heart which he had now chosen as the subject of his discourse, she felt
her fear of him gradually dissipating, and now when he made a pause, she said,—

"You
are much mistaken. On the constancy and truth of Charles Holland, I would stake
my life."

"No
doubt, no doubt."

"Have
you spoken now that which you had to say?"

"No,
no. I tell you I covet this place, I would purchase it, but having with your
bad-tempered brothers quarrelled, they will hold no further converse with
me."

"And
well they may refuse."

"Be,
that as it may, sweet lady, I come to you to be my mediator. In the shadow of
the future I can see many events which are to come."

"Indeed."

"It
is so. Borrowing some wisdom from the past, and some from resources I would not
detail to you, I know that if I have inflicted much misery upon you, I can
spare you much more. Your brother or your lover will challenge me."

"Oh,
no, no."

"I
say such will happen, and I can kill either. My skill as well as my strength is
superhuman."

"Mercy!
mercy!" gasped Flora. "I will spare either or both on a
condition."

"What
fearful condition?"

"It
is not a fearful one. Your terrors go far before the fact. All I wish, maiden,
of you is to induce these imperious brothers of yours to sell or let the Hall
to me."

"Is
that all?"

"It
is. I ask no more, and, in return, I promise you not only that I will not fight
with them, but that you shall never see me again. Rest securely, maiden, you
will be undisturbed by me."

"Oh,
God! that were indeed an assurance worth the striving for," said Flora.

"It
is one you may have. But—"

"Oh,
I knew—my heart told me there was yet some fearful condition to come."

"You
are wrong again. I only ask of you that you keep this meeting a secret."

"No,
no, no—I cannot."

"Nay,
what so easy?"

"I
will not; I have no secrets from those I love."

"Indeed,
you will find soon the expediency of a few at least; but if you will not, I
cannot urge it longer. Do as your wayward woman's nature prompts you."

There
was a slight, but a very slight, tone of aggravation in these words, and the
manner in which they were uttered.

As he
spoke, he moved from the door towards the window, which opened into a kitchen
garden. Flora shrunk as far from him as possible, and for a few moments they
regarded each other in silence.

"Young
blood," said Varney, "mantles in your veins."

She
shuddered with terror.

"Be
mindful of the condition I have proposed to you. I covet Bannerworth
Hall."

"I—I
hear."

"And
I must have it. I will have it, although my path to it be through a sea of
blood. You understand me, maiden? Repeat what has passed between us or not, as
you please. I say, beware of me, if you keep not the condition I have
proposed."

"Heaven
knows that this place is becoming daily more hateful to us all," said
Flora.

"Indeed!"

"You
well might know so much. It is no sacrifice to urge it now. I will urge my
brother."

"Thanks—a
thousand thanks. You may not live to regret even having made a friend of
Varney—"

"The
vampyre!" said Flora.

He
advanced towards her a step, and she involuntarily uttered a scream of terror.

In an
instant his hand clasped her waist with the power of an iron vice; she felt hit
hot breath flushing on her cheek. Her senses reeled, and she found herself
sinking. She gathered all her breath and all her energies into one piercing
shriek, and then she fell to the floor. There was a sudden crash of broken
glass, and then all was still.