VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE; OR, THE FEAST OF BLOOD. CHAPTER CCXIV. [sic] [Chapter 231] A SINGULAR INTERVIEW, AND THE CONSEQUENCES OF PASSION. Being perfectly ignorant of where I was, I thought the most prudent plan was to stand stock still, for if I advanced it might be into danger, and my retreat was evidently cut off. Moreover, those who brought me there must have some sort of intention, and it was better for me to leave them to develope it than to take any steps myself, which might be of a very hazardous nature. That I was adopting the best policy I was soon convinced, for a flash of light suddenly came upon me, and I heard a gruff voice, say, -- "Who goes there? come this way." I walked on, and passed through an open door way into a small apartment, in the centre of which, standing by a common deal table on which his clenched hand was resting, I found Oliver Cromwell himself. "So, sirrah," he said, "royalists and pestilent characters are to ravage the land, are they so? anwser me." "I have no answer to make, your highness," said I. "God's mercy, no answer, when in your own house the Duke of Cleveland's proscribed secretary lies concealed." I felt rather staggered, but was certain I had been betrayed by some one, and Cromwell continued rapidly, without giving me time to speak. "The Lord is merciful, and so are we, but the malignant must be taken by the beloved soldiers of the Commonwealth, and the gospel God-fearing men, who always turn to the Lord, with short carbines, will accompany you. The malignant shall be taken from your house, by you, and the true God-fearing dragoons shall linger in the shade behind. You will take him to the river side, where the Lord willing, there will be a boat with a small blue ensign, on board of which you will place him, wishing him good speed." He paused, and looked fixedly upon me by the aid of the miserable light that was in the apartment. "What then, your highness?" I said. "Then you will probably call upon us to-morrow for a considerable sum, which will be due to you for this good service to the Commonwealth; yes, it shall be profitable to fight the battles of the Lord." I must confess, I had expected a very different result from the interview, which I had been greatly in fear would have resulted, in greatly endangering my liberty. Cromwell was a man not to be tampered with; I knew my danger, and was not disposed to sacrifice myself for Master Latham. "Your highness shall be obeyed," I said. "Ay, verily," he replied, "and if we be not obeyed, we must make ourselves felt with a strong arm of flesh. What ho! God-fearing Simkins, art thon [sic] there?" "Yes, the Lord willing," said a dragoon, making his appearance at the door. Cromwell merely made him a sign with his hand, and he laid hold of the upper part of my arm, as though it had been in a vice, and led me out into the passage again where the sentinels were posted. In the course of a few moments, I was duly in custody of my two guards again, and we were proceeding at a very rapid pace towards my residence. It was not a very agreeable affair, view it in whatever light I might; but as regarded Cromwell, I knew my jeopardy, and it would be perceived that I had not hesitated a moment in obeying him. Moreover, I considered, for I knew he was generous, I should have a good round sum by the transaction, which added to the fifty pounds I had received from the royalists, made the affair appear to me in a pleasant enough light. Indeed, I was revolving in my mind as I went along, whether it would not be worth while, almost entirely to attach myself to the protector. "If," I reasoned with myself, "I should do that, and still preserve myself a character with the royalists, I should thrive." But it will be seen that an adverse circumstance put an end to all those dreams. When we reached the door of my house, the first thing I saw was my son wiping his brow, as if he had undergone some fatigue; he ran up to me, and catching me by the arm, whispered to me. I was so angered at the moment, that heedless of what I did, and passion getting the mastery over me, I with my clenched fist struck him to the earth. His head fell upon one of the hard round stones with which the street was paved, and he never spoke again. I had murdered him. * * * * I don't know what happened immediately subsequent to this fearful deed; all I can recollect is, that there was a great confusion and a flashing of lights, and it appeared to me as if something had suddenly struck me down to the earth with great force. When I did thoroughly awaken, I found myself lying upon a small couch, but in a very large apartment dimly lighted, and where there were many such couches ranged against the walls. A miserable light just enabled me to see about me a little, and some dim dusky-looking figures were creeping about the place. It was a hospital that the protector had lately instituted in the Strand. I tried to speak, but could not; my tongue seemed glued to my mouth, and I could not, and then a change came upon my sense of sight, and I could scarely see at all the dim dusky-looking figures about me. Some one took hold of me by the wrist, and I heard one say, quite distinctly, -- "He's entirely going, now." Suddenly it seemed as if something had fallen with a crushing influence upon my chest, and then a consciousness that I was gasping for breath, and then I thought I was at the bottom of the sea. There was a moment, only a moment, of frightful agony, and then came a singing sound, like the rush of waters, after which, I distinctly felt some one raising me in their arms. I was dropped again, my limbs felt numbed and chill, an universal spasm shot through my whole system, I opened my eyes, and found myself lying in the open air, by a newly opened grave. A full moon was sailing through the sky and the cold beams were upon my face; a voice sounded in my ears, a deep and solmen voice-- and painfully distinct was every word it uttered. "Mortimer," it said, for that was my name, "Mortimer, in life you did one deed which at once cast you out from all hope that anything in that life would be remembered in the world to come to your advantage. You poisoned the pure font of mercy, and not upon such as you can the downy freshness of Heaven's bounty fall. Murderer, murderer of that being sacredly presented to your care by the great Creator of all things, live henceforth a being accursed. Be to yourself a desolation and a blight, shunned by all that is good and virtuous, armed against all men, and all men armed against thee, Varney the Vampyre." * * * * I staggered to my feet, the scene around me was a churchyard, I was gaunt and thin, my clothes hung about me in tattered remnants. The damp smell of the grave hung about them, I met an aged man, and asked him where I was. He looked at me with a shudder, as though I had escaped from some charnel house. "Why this is Isledon," said he. A peal of bells came merrily upon the night air. "What means that?" said I. "Why this is the anniversary of the Restoration." "The Restoration! What Restoration?" "Why of the royal family to the throne, to be sure, returned this day last year. Have you been asleep so long that you don't know that?" I shuddered and walked on, determined to make further inquiries, and to make them with so much caution, that the real extent of my ignorance should scarce be surmised, and the result was to me of the most astonishing character. I found that I had been in the trance of death for nearly two years, and that during that period, great political changes had taken place. The exiled royal family had been restored to the throne, and the most remarkable revulsion of feeling that had ever taken place in a nation had taken place in England. But personally I had not yet fully awakened to all the horror of what I was. I had heard the words addressed to me, but I had attached no very definite meaning to them." -+- Next Time: Varney's Narative Continued. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ | 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 231 Ver 1.00 05/29/1998 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 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: 1 Page numbers in source: 855-858 Sections: 3 Approximate number of characters: Number of paragraphs: Comments: Chapter appears mis-numbered as CCXIV. Varney's narrative continues, and we find him ushered into the presence of Oliver Cromwell himself, who we discover, knows all about Varney's plan to smuggle out the secretary of the Duke of Cleveland that night. Varney fears he is done for. Cromwell surprises Varney by telling him that he is to continue his plan, but to deliver the passenger to a boat with a blue ensign. For this task he will be paid by Cromwell. Varney, obviously a mercenary, is relieved that he has been presented with a way out of this jam, and quickly begins to calculate whether he can, in fact, prosper as a double agent. He is then lead back to his home by two dragoons. When he arrives, his son rushes to tell him something, but Varney becomes enraged for some unknown reason, and strikes his son down. The boy hits his head on the stones of the road and is killed. Varney is then struck down as well and his next recollection is being in a hospital and expiring. After this, Varney recalls finding himself lying on the ground next to an open grave, under a full moon. A deep voice, addressing him as Mortimer, tells him that his deed has cursed him and that henceforth he must go as shunned being, an enemy to all men. The voice also tells him that from here on he is now Varney the Vampyre. Varney eventually gets up and learns that two years have past since his death, and by now, the Restoration has come, and the monarchy restored. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Modification History Version Date Who What changes made -------- -------- ------------- ---------------------------------- 1.00 05/29/1998 H.Liu Initial gold version, rough proof read. ==================================End of File=================================