The fact was, that Henry finding that he was likely to pass an
exceedingly disturbed, restless night, through agitation of spirits,
had, after tossing to and fro on his couch for many hours, wisely at
length risen, and determined to walk abroad in the gardens belonging to
the mansion, in preference to continuing in such a state of fever and
anxiety, as he was in, in his own chamber. Since the vampyre's dreadful visit, it had been the custom of both the
brothers, occasionally, to tap at the chamber door of Flora, who, at her
own request, now that she had changed her room, and dispensed with any
one sitting up with her, wished occasionally to be communicated with by
some member of the family. Henry, then, after rapidly dressing, as he passed the door of her
bedroom, was about to tap at it, when to his surprise he found it open,
and upon hastily entering it he observed that the bed was empty, and a
hasty glance round the apartment convinced him that Flora was not there. Alarm took possession of him, and hastily arming himself, he roused
Marchdale and George, but without waiting for them to be ready to
accompany him, he sought the garden, to search it thoroughly in case she
should be anywhere there concealed. Thus it was he had come upon the conference so strangely and so
unexpectedly held between Varney and Flora in the summer-house. With
what occurred upon that discovery the readers are acquainted. Flora had promised George that she would return immediately to the
house, but when, in compliance with the call of Henry, George and
Marchdale had left her alone, she felt so agitated and faint that she
began to cling to the trellis work of the little building for a few
moments before she could gather strength to reach the mansion. Two or three minutes might thus have elapsed, and Flora was in such a
state of mental bewilderment with all that had occurred, that she could
scarce believe it real, when suddenly a slight sound attracted her
attention, and through the gap which had been made in the wall of the
summer-house, with an appearance of perfect composure, again appeared
Sir Francis Varney. "Flora," he said, quietly resuming the discourse which had been broken
off, "I am quite convinced now that you will be much the happier for the
interview." "Gracious Heaven!" said Flora, "whence have you come from?" "I have never left," said Varney. "But I saw you fly from this spot." "You did; but it was only to another immediately outside the summer
house. I had no idea of breaking off our conference so abruptly." "Have you anything to add to what you have already stated?" "Absolutely nothing, unless you have a question to propose to me--I
should have thought you had, Flora. Is there no other circumstance
weighing heavily upon your mind, as well as the dreadful visitation I
have subjected you to?" "Yes," said Flora. "What has become of Charles Holland?" "Listen. Do not discard all hope; when you are far from here you will
meet with him again." "But he has left me." "And yet he will be able, when you again encounter him, so far to
extenuate his seeming perfidy, that you shall hold him as untouched in
honour as when first he whispered to you that he loved you." "Oh, joy! joy!" said Flora; "by that assurance you have robbed
misfortune of its sting, and richly compensated me for all that I have
suffered." "Adieu!" said the vampyre. "I shall now proceed to my own home by a
different route to that taken by those who would kill me." "But after this," said Flora, "there shall be no danger; you shall be
held harmless, and our departure from Bannerworth Hall shall be so
quick, that you will soon be released from all apprehension of vengeance
from my brother, and I shall taste again of that happiness which I
thought had fled from me for ever." "Farewell," said the vampire; and folding his cloak closely around him,
he strode from the summer-house, soon disappearing from her sight behind
the shrubs and ample vegetation with which that garden abounded. Flora sunk upon her knees, and uttered a brief, but heartfelt
thanksgiving to Heaven for this happy change in her destiny. The hue of
health faintly again visited her cheeks, and as she now, with a feeling
of more energy and strength than she had been capable of exerting for
many days, walked towards the house, she felt all that delightful
sensation which the mind experiences when it is shaking off the trammels
of some serious evil which it delights now to find that the imagination
has attired in far worse colours than the facts deserved. It is scarcely necessary, after this, to say that the search in the wood
for Sir Francis Varney was an unproductive one, and that the morning
dawned upon the labours of the brother and of Mr. Marchdale, without
their having discovered the least indication of the presence of Varney. Again puzzled and confounded, they stood on the margin of the wood, and
looked sadly towards the brightening windows of Bannerworth Hall, which
were now reflecting with a golden radiance the slant rays of the morning
sun. "Foiled again," remarked Henry, with a gesture of impatience; "foiled
again, and as completely as before. I declare that I will fight this
man, let our friend the admiral say what he will against such a measure
I will meet him in mortal combat; he shall consummate his triumph over
our whole family by my death, or I will rid the world and ourselves of
so frightful a character." "Let us hope," said Marchdale, "that some other course may be adopted,
which shall put an end to these proceedings." "That," exclaimed Henry, "is to hope against all probability; what other
course can be pursued? Be this Varney man or devil, he has evidently
marked us for his prey." [Illustration]

"Indeed, it would seem so," remarked George; "but yet he shall find that
we will not fall so easily; he shall discover that if poor Flora's
gentle spirit has been crushed by these frightful circumstances, we are
of a sterner mould." "He shall," said Henry; "I for one will dedicate my life to this matter. I will know no more rest than is necessary to recruit my frame, until I
have succeeded in overcoming this monster; I will seek no pleasure here,
and will banish from my mind, all else that may interfere with that one
fixed pursuit. He or I must fall." "Well spoken," said Marchdale; "and yet I hope that circumstances may
occur to prevent such a necessity of action, and that probably you will
yet see that it will be wise and prudent to adopt a milder and a safer
course." "No, Marchdale, you cannot feel as we feel. You look on more as a
spectator, sympathising with the afflictions of either, than feeling the
full sting of those afflictions yourself." "Do I not feel acutely for you? I'm a lonely man in the world, and I
have taught myself now to centre my affections in your family; my
recollections of early years assist me in so doing. Believe me, both of
you, that I am no idle spectator of your griefs, but that I share them
fully.