VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE;
                                    OR,
                             THE FEAST OF BLOOD.
 
                                Chapter LVII.
 
THE LONELY WATCH, AND THE ADVENTURE IN THE DESERTED HOUSE.

 
     It is now quite night, and so peculiar and solemn a stillness reigns in
and about Bannerworth Hall and its surrounding grounds, that one might have
supposed it a place of the dead, deserted completely after sunset by all who
would still hold kindred with the living.  There was not a breath of air
stirring, and this circumstance added greatly to the impression of profound
repose which the whole scene exhibited.
 
     The wind during the day had been rather of a squally character, but
towards nightfall, as is often usual after a day of such a character, it had
completely lulled, and the serenity of the scene was unbroken even by the
faintest sigh from a wandering zephyr.
 
     The moon rose late at that period, and as is always the case at that
interval between sunset and the rising of that luminary which makes the night
so beautiful, the darkness was of the most profound character.
 
     It was one of those nights to produce melancholy reflections-- a night on
which a man would be apt to review his past life, and to look into the hidden
recesses of his soul to see if conscience could make a coward of him in the
loneliness and stillness that breathed around.
 
     It was one of those nights in which wanderers in the solitude of nature
feel that the eye of Heaven is upon them, and on which there seems to be a
more visible connection between the world and its great Creator than upon
ordinary occasions.
 
     The solemn and melancholy appear places once instinct with life, when
deserted by those familiar forms and faces that have long inhabited them. 
There is no desert, no uninhabited isle in the far ocean, no wild, barren,
pathless tract of unmitigated sterility, which could for one moment compare in
point of loneliness and desolation to a deserted city.
 
     Strip London, mighty and majestic as it is, of the busy swarm of humanity
that throng its streets, its suburbs, its temples, its public edifices, and
its private dwellings, and how awful would be the walk of one solitary man
throughout its noiseless thoroughfares.
 
     If madness seized not upon him ere he had been long the sole survivor of
a race, he would need be cast in no common mould.
 
     And to descend from great things to smaller-- from the huge levathian
city to one mansion far removed from the noise and bustle of conventional
life, we may imagine the sort of desolation that reigned through Bannerworth
Hall, when, for the first time, after nearly a hundred and fifty years of
occupation, it was deserted by the representatives of that family, so many
members of which had lived and died beneath its roof.
 
     The house, and everything within, without, and around it, seemed actually
to sympathize with its own desolation and desertion.
 
     It seemed as if twenty years of continued occupation could not have
produced such an effect upon the ancient edifice as had those few hours of
neglect and desertion.
 
     And yet it was not as if it had been stripped of those time-worn and
ancient relics of ornament and furnishing that so long had appertained to it. 
No, nothing but the absence of those forms which had been accustomed quietly
to move from room to room, and to be met here upon a staircase, there upon a
corridor, and even in some of the ancient panelled apartments, which gave it
an air of dreary repose and listlessness.
 
     The shutters, too, were all closed, and that circumstance contributed
largely to the production of that gloomy effect which otherwise could not have
ensued.
 
     In fact, what could be done without attracting very special observation
was done to prove to any casual observer that the house was untenanted.
 
     But such was not really the case.  In that very room where the much
dreaded Varney the vampyre had made one of his dreaded appearances to Flora
Bannerworth and her mother, sat two men.
 
     It was from that apartment that Flora had discharged the pistol, which
had been left to her by her brother, and the shot from which it was believed
by the whole family had most certainly taken effect upon the person of the
vampyre.
 
     It was a room peculiarly accessible from the gardens, for it had long
French windows opening to the very ground, and but a stone step intervened
between the flooring of the apartment and a broad gravel walk which wound
round that entire portion of the house.
 
     It was in this room, then, that two men sat in silence, and nearly in
darkness.
 
     Before them, and on a table, were several articles of refreshment, as
well of defence and offence, according as their intentions might be.
 
     There were a bottle and three glasses, and lying near the elbow of one of
the men was a large pair of pistols, such as might have adorned the belt of
some desperate character, who wished to instil an opinion of his prowess into
his foes by the magnitude of his weapons.
 
     Close at hand, by the same party, lay some more modern fire-arms, as well
as a long dirk, with a silver mounted handle.
 
     The light they had consisted of a large lantern, so constructed with a
slide, that it could be completely obscured at a moment's notice; but now as
it was placed, the rays that were allowed to come from it were directed as
much from the window of the apartment, as possible, and fell upon the faces of
the two men, revealing them to be Admiral Bell and Dr. Chillingworth.
 
     It might have been the effect of the particular light in which he sat,
but the doctor looked extremely pale, and did not appear at all at his ease.
 
     The admiral, on the contrary, appeared in as placable a state of mind as
possible, and had his arms folded across his breast, and his head shrunk down
between his shoulders, as if he had made up his mind to something that was to
last a long time, and, therefore, he was making the best of it.
 
     "I do hope," said Mr. Chillingworth, after a long pause, "that our
efforts will be crowned with success-- you know, my dear sir, that I have
always been of your opinion, that there was a great deal more in this matter
than met the eye."
 
     "To be sure," said the admiral, "and as to to [sic] our efforts being
crowned with success, why, I'll give you a toast, doctor, 'may the morning's
reflection provide for the evening's amusement.'"
 
     "Ha! ha!" said Chillingworth, faintly; "I'd rather not drink any more,
and you seem, admiral, to have transposed the toast in some way.  I believe it
runs, 'may the evening's amusement bear the morning's reflection.'"
 
     "Transpose the devil!" said the admiral; "what do I care how it runs? I
gave you my toast, and as to that you mention, it's another one altogether,
and a sneaking, shore-going one too: but why don't you drink?"
 
     "Why, my dear sir, medically speaking, I am strongly of opinion that,
when the human stomach is made to contain a large quantity of alcohol, it
produces bad effects upon the system.  Now, I've certainly taken one glass of
this infernally strong Hollands, and it is now lying in my stomach like the
red-hot heater of a tea-urn."
 
     "Is it? put it out with another, then."
 
     "Ay, I'm afraid that would not answer; but do you really think, admiral,
that we shall effect anything by waiting here, and keeping watch and ward, not
under the most comfortable circumstances, this first night of the Hall being
empty."
 
     "Well, I don't know that we shall," said the admiral; "but when you
really want to steal a march upon the enemy, there is nothing like beginning
betimes.  We are both of opinion that Varney's great object throughout has
been, by some means or another, to get possession of the house."
 
     "Yes; true, true."
 
     "We know that he has been unceasing in his endeavours to get the
Bannerworth family out of it; that he has offered them their own price to
become its tenant, and that the whole gist of his quiet and placid interview
with Flora in the garden, was to supply her with a new set of reasons for
urging her mother and brother to leave Bannerworth Hall, because the old ones
were certainly not found sufficient."
 
     "True, true, most true," said Mr. Chillingworth, emphatically.  "You
know, sir, that from the first time you broached that view of the subject to
me, how entirely I coincided with you."
 
     "Of course you did, for you are a honest fellow, and a right-thinking
fellow, though you are a doctor, and I don't know that I like doctors, much
better than I like lawyers-- they're only humbugs in a different sort of way. 
But I wish to be liberal; there is such a thing as an honest lawyer, and, d---
e, you're an honest doctor!"
 
     "Of course I'm much obliged, admiral, for your good opinion.  I only wish
it had struck me to bring something of a solid nature in the shape of food, to
sustain the waste of the animal economy during the hours we shall have to wait
here."
 
     "Don't trouble yourself about that," said the admiral.  "Do you think I'm
a donkey, and would set out on a cruise without victualling my ship?  I should
think not.  Jack Pringle will be here soon, and he has my orders to bring in
something to eat."
 
     "Well," said the doctor, "that's very provident of you, admiral, and I
feel personally obliged; but tell me, how do you intend to conduct the watch?"
 
     "What do you mean?"
 
     "Why, I mean, if we sit here with the window fastened so as to prevent
our light from being seen, and the door closed, how are we by any possibility
to know if the house is attacked or not?"
 
     "Hark'ee, my friend," said the admrial; "I've left a weak point for the
enemy."
 
     "A what, admiral?"
 
     "A weak point.  I've taken good care to secure everything but one of the
windows on the ground floor, and that I've left open, or so nearly open, that
it will look like the most natural place in the world to get in at.  Now, just
inside that window, I've placed a lot of the family crockery.  I'll warrant,
if anybody so much as puts his foot in, you'll hear the smash;-- and, d---e,
there it is!"
 
     There was a long crash at this moment, followed by a succession of
similar sounds, but of a lesser degree; and both the admiral and Mr.
Chillingworth sprung to their feet.
 
     "Come on," cried the former; "here'll be a precious row-- take the
lantern."
 
     "Mr. Chillingworth did so, but he did not seem possessed of a great deal
of presence of mind; for, before they got out of the room, he twice
accidentally put on the dark slide, and produced a total darkness.
 
     "D---n!" said the admiral; "don't make it wink and wink in that way; hold
it up, and run after me as hard as you can."
 
     "I'm coming, I'm coming," said Mr. Chillingworth.
 
     It was one of the windows of a long room, containing five, fronting the
garden, which the admiral had left purposely unguarded; and it was not far
from the apartment in which they had been sitting, so that, probably, not half
a minute's time elapsed between the moment of the first alarm, and their
reaching the spot from whence it was presumed to arise.
 
     The admiral had armed himself with one of the huge pistols, and he dashed
forward, with all the vehemence of his character, towards the window, where he
knew he had placed the family crockery, and where he fully expected to meet
the reward of his exertion by discovering some one lying amid its fragments.
 
     In this, however, he was disappointed; for, although there was evidently
a great smash amongst the plates and dishes, the window remained closed, and
there was no indication whatever of the presence of any one.
 
     "Well, that's odd," said the admiral; "I balanced them up amazingly
careful, and two of 'em edgeways-- d---e, a fly would have knocked them down."
 
     "Mew," said a great cat, emerging from under a chair.
 
     "Curse you, there you are," said the admiral, "Put out the light, put out
the light; here we're illuminating the whole house for nothing."
 
     With a click went the darkening slide over the lantern, and all was
obscurity.
 
     At that instant a shrill, clear whistle came from the garden.
 
                                     -+-
 
 Next Time: The Arrival of Jack Pringle. -- Midnight and the Vampyre. -- The
 Mysterious Hat.

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The Varney Project                Chapter  57             Ver 1.00  02/19/1996
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