VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE; OR, THE FEAST OF BLOOD. CHAPTER CXCVII. [sic] [Chapter 214] THE CLERGYMAN'S VISIT TO THE VAULT. -- RESCUE OF THE SEXTON. "What the devil! sounds!" Yes; that was what the parson said. With all due respect for his cloth, we cannot help recording the fact that the words at the commencement of this chapter were precisely those that came from the lips of the reverend gentleman upon the occasion of the sudden and rather alarming irruption of the beadle and the bell-ringer into his breakfast parlour at the parsonage. "We beg your pardon, sir," said the beadle, "but----" "Yes, sir, we beg your pardon," add the bell-ringer, "but----" "What?" cried the parson, as he looked at the remains of his breakfast lying upon the hearth-rug in most admired disorder at his feet. "The bell, sir-- the church-- the gallery-- a groan-- a ghost-- a lot of ghosts." Such were the incoherent words that came, thick as hail, from the beadle and the bell-ringer. In vain the clergyman strove to get to the rights of the story. He was compelled to wait until they were both very nearly tired out, and then he said, -- "Very well, I don't understand, so you may both go away again." "But, sir----" "But, sir----" "If one of you will speak while the other listens I will attend, and not otherwise. This is Sunday morning, and I neither can, nor will waste any more time upon you." Nothing is so terrible to a professed story teller, and the beadle was something of that class, as to tell him you won't listen to him, so Mr. Dorey at once begged that Wiggins would either allow him to tell what had happened, or tell it properly himself. Mr. Wiggins gave way, and the beadle as diffusely as possible told the tale of the bell tolling, and the visit to the church, with the awful adventure that there occurred. "What do you think of it, sir?" he concluded by asking. "I have no opinion formed as yet," replied the clergyman, "but I will step down to the church now, and see." "You'll take plenty o' people with you, sir." "Oh dear no, I shall go alone. I don't gather from what you have said that there is any danger. Your own fears, too, I am inclined to think, have much exaggerated the whole affair. I dare say it will turn out, as most of such alarms usually do, some very simple affair indeed." The parson took his hat, and walked away to the church as coolly as possible, leaving Mr. Dorey and Mr. Wiggins to stare at each other, and to wonder at a temerity they could not have thought it possible for any human being to have practised. But the clergyman was supported by a power of which they knew little-- the power of knowledge, which enabled him at once in his own mind to divide the probable from the impossible, and therefore was it that he walked down to the church fully prepared to hear from somebody a very natural explanation of the mysterious bell-ringing in the night, which was the only circumstance that made him think that there was anything to explain, for he had heard that himself. When he reached the sacred building, he found the door open, as the beadle and the bell-ringer had left it, and the moment he got into the body of the church, he heard a voice say, -- "Help! help! will nobody help me?" "Yes," he replied, "of course, I will." "Oh! thank Heaven!" "Where are you." [?] "Here, sir, I think that's your voice, Mr. Bevan." "Ah, and I think that's your voice, Will Stephens; I thought this would turn out some very ordinary piece of business, so you are up stairs; and did you ring the bell in the night?" "I did, sir." "Just so-- come down then." "I'm afraid I can't, sir, without some help. I have had a very bad fall, and although, thank God, no bones are broken, I am sadly shaken and bruised, so that it is with great pain, sir, I can crawl along, and as for getting down the stairs, why-- I-- I rather think I couldn't by myself, if there was a hundred pound note waiting for me below, just for the trouble of fetching, sir." "Very well, I'm coming, don't move." Mr. Bevan ascended the staircase, and without "a bit of pride," as Will Stephens said afterwards, in telling the story, helped the bruised sexton down the gallery steps to the body of the church, and then he made him sit down on one of the forms, and tell him all that had happened, which Will did from first to last, quite faithfully, not even omitting how he had stayed rather late at the ale-house, and how terrified he had been by the curious events that took place while he was in the church, ending by his fall from the stairs leading up to the belfry. "Will, Will," said Mr. Bevan, "the ringing of the bell is good proof that you have been in the belfry, but you will scarcely expect me to believe the remainder of your dream." "Dream, sir?" "Yes, to be sure. You surely don't think now, in broad daylight, that it is anything else, do you?" "I-- I don't know, sir; of course, sir, if you say its a dream-- why-- why---" "There, that will do. I will convince you that it was nothing more, or else you will go disturbing the whole neighbourhood with this story, that it is quite a mercy, I have first heard." "Convince me, sir?" "Yes; come with me to the vault." Will Stephens shrunk from this proposal and his fear was so manifest, that Mr. Bevan was, at all events, convinced that he had told him nothing but what he himself believed, and accordingly he felt still more anxious to rid Will of his nervous terror. "You surely," he said, "cannot be timid, while I am with you. Come at once, and if you do not find that the late Miss Crofton, poor girl, is quiet enough in her coffin, I promise you upon my sacred word, that I will never cease investigating this affair, and bringing it to some conclusion. Come at once, before any curious persons arrive at the church." So urgent a request from the clergyman of the parish to Will Stephens, the sexton of the parish, almost might be said to amount to a command, so Will did not see how he could get out of it, without confessing an amount of rank cowardice that even he shrunk from. "Well, sir," he said, "of course with you I can have no objection." "That's right. Come along; there are means of getting a light into the vestry; wait here a moment." Will would not wait; he stuck close by Mr. Bevan, who went into the vestry, and soon procured a candle, lighted from materials he kept there under lock and key; and they went together to the vault, the stone of which was just as it had been left when Will emerged with so much fright. "I will go first," said Mr. Bevan. "Thank you, sir." The clergyman descended, and Will Stephens followed, trembling, about two stairs behind him. Little did he expect when he emerged from that vault previous to his adventures in the church, that he should revisit it again so quickly. Indeed he had made a mental resolve that nothing should induce him to go down those stairs again, and yet there he was actually descending them. So weak are the resolutions of mortals! "Needs must," thought Will, "when the--- parson, I mean, drives!" "Come on, Will," said Mr. Bevan. Will looked about him, but no coffin-lid was visible. There was Miss Crofton's coffin in its proper niche, with the lid on, and looking as calm and undisturbed as any respectable coffin could look. Will was amazed. He looked at the coffin, and he looked at the parson, and then he looked uncommonly foolish. "Never mind it, Will," said Mr. Bevan, "never mind it, I say. The story need go no further. You can keep your own counsel if you like. You have come here under the influence of strong ale, and you have gone to sleep most likely in this very vault, and in your sleep, having a very vivid dream, you have walked up into the gallery, and thence into the belfry, where no doubt you did ring the bell under the influence of your dream; and then you fell down the belfry stairs, I believe, as you say you did." "Ah!" said Will, "bless you, sir. It may be so, but----" "You are not convinced." "Not quite, sir," "Well, Will, you are quite right never to pretend to be convinced when you are not. I do not blame you for that, but in a short time, when the effect of the affair has worn off, you will entertain my opinion." "I hope, sir, I may." "That will do. Now the stone must be put over this vault." "Sir, if you wouldn't mind, sir." "What, Will?" "Staying a moment or two, while I empty the bag of sawdust on the floor, sir, I shan't be a minute, no-- not half a minute, and then I shall have done with the vault altogether I hope, sir." "Very well." Will set to work, and although at any other time he would have been rather ashamed of letting Mr. Bevan see what a wonderfully small quantity of sawdust made up a guinea's worth, superior considerations now prevailed, and he would not have spared the clergyman's company on any account. "Now I've done, sir." "Very well, follow me." Will did not like to ask the clergyman to follow him, so in that difficulty, for as to his remaining behind it was out of the question, he made a rush and reached the church before Mr. Bevan could ascend two of the steps. When that gentleman did reach the church he made no remark about the precipitancy, and apparent disrespect of Will, for he put it down to its right cause, but he left the church in order to make the usual preparations for the morning service, which would now commence in an hour-and-a-half. Will walked home with his empty bag, for the little exercise he had had sufficed to convince him that he was not so much hurt as he thought, and that the stiffness of his limbs would soon pass away. "It's all very well," he said to himself, "for Mr. Bevan to talk about dreams, but if that was one, nothing real, has ever, happened to me yet, that's all." -+- Next Time: The Young Lover's Midnight Watch. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ | This Varney the Vampyre e-text was entered by members of the | | Science Fiction Round Table #1 (SFRT1) on the Genie online | | service. | | The Varney Project, a reincarnation of this "penny dreadful" bit | | of fiction, was begun in November of 1993 by James Macdonald and | | should take about four years for re-serialization. | | These chapters are being posted once a week to the Round Table | | Bulletin Board and are also being placed in the Round Table File | | Library. | | For further information concerning Varney e-texts, please send | | email to: | | h.liu@juno.com | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ ============================================================================== The Varney Project Chapter 214 Ver 1.00 01/31/1998 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ General notes on this chapter Source: H.Liu entry from the Arno edition, 1970, text is reprint of 1847 edition Drop capital: No Figures in source: 0 Page numbers in source: 816-819 Sections: 1 Approximate number of characters: Number of paragraphs: Comments: Chapter appears mis-numbered as CXCVII. The parson, Mr. Bevan, was quite disturbed at having his breakfast destroyed by the entry of the panicked beadle and bell-ringer. After enforcing some order, Mr. Bevan gets the story of what transpired earlier at the church. Being a learned man of reason, the parson remains calm, believing there is some normal explanation of the events. He then goes to the church, and finds Will Stephens injured up near the belfry. Helping him down, Mr. Bevan then listens to Will's account of what happened, and concludes that it is merely a dream induced by the strong ale and the sexton's imagination. To prove this point to Will, the two men go back down to the Crofton family vault, and to Will's surprise, the coffin of Clara Crofton appears intact and undisturbed. Will takes this opportunity to spread the meager amount of sawdust that he had contracted to do, and then he makes a hasty exit. The parson leaves as well, to prepare for the church services of that morning. Will, although inclined to believe Mr. Bevan's explanations, is left with some lingering doubts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Modification History Version Date Who What changes made -------- -------- ------------- ---------------------------------- 1.00 01/31/1998 H.Liu Initial gold version, rough proof read. ==================================End of File=================================