Henry held them to the light, and after a moment's inspection of them,
he said, in a voice of much surprise,--

"Good God! what is the meaning of this?" "The meaning of what?" "The letters are addressed to parties in the house here. Do you not
see?" "To whom?" "One to Admiral Bell--"

"The deuce!" "Another to me, and the third to my sister Flora. There is some new
mystery here." The admiral looked at the superscription of one of the letters which was
handed to him in silent amazement. Then he cried,--

"Set down the light, and let us read them." Henry did so, and then they simultaneously opened the epistles which
were severally addressed to them. There was a silence, as of the very
grave, for some moments, and then the old admiral staggered to a seat,
as he exclaimed,--

"Am I dreaming--am I dreaming?" "Is this possible?" said Henry, in a voice of deep emotion, as he
allowed the note addressed to him to drop on to the floor. "D--n it, what does yours say?" cried the old admiral, in a louder tone. "Read it--what says yours?" "Read it--I'm amazed." The letters were exchanged, and read by each with the same breathless
attention they had bestowed upon their own; after which, they both
looked at each other in silence, pictures of amazement, and the most
absolute state of bewilderment. Not to keep our readers in suspense, we at once transcribe each of these
letters. The one to the admiral contained these words,--

     "MY DEAR UNCLE,

     "Of course you will perceive the prudence of keeping this letter
     to yourself, but the fact is, I have now made up my mind to leave
     Bannerworth Hall. "Flora Bannerworth is not now the person she was when first I
     knew her and loved her. Such being the case, and she having
     altered, not I, she cannot accuse me of fickleness. "I still love the Flora Bannerworth I first knew, but I cannot
     make my wife one who is subject to the visitations of a vampyre. "I have remained here long enough now to satisfy myself that this
     vampyre business is no delusion. I am quite convinced that it is
     a positive fact, and that, after death, Flora will herself become
     one of the horrible existences known by that name. "I will communicate to you from the first large city on the
     continent whither I am going, at which I make any stay, and in
     the meantime, make what excuses you like at Bannerworth Hall,
     which I advise you to leave as quickly as you can, and believe me
     to be, my dear uncle, yours truly,

     "CHARLES HOLLAND." Henry's letter was this:--

     "MY DEAR SIR,

     "If you calmly and dispassionately consider the painful and
     distressing circumstances in which your family are placed, I am
     sure that, far from blaming me for the step which this note will
     announce to you I have taken, you will be the first to give me
     credit for acting with an amount of prudence and foresight which
     was highly necessary under the circumstances. "If the supposed visits of a vampyre to your sister Flora had
     turned out, as first I hoped they would, a delusion and been
     in any satisfactory manner explained away I should certainly have
     felt pride and pleasure in fulfilling my engagement to that young
     lady. "You must, however, yourself feel that the amount of evidence in
     favour of a belief that an actual vampyre has visited Flora,
     enforces a conviction of its truth. "I cannot, therefore, make her my wife under such very singular
     circumstances. "Perhaps you may blame me for not taking at once advantage of the
     permission given me to forego my engagement when first I came to
     your house; but the fact is, I did not then in the least believe
     in the existence of the vampyre, but since a positive conviction
     of that most painful fact has now forced itself upon me, I beg to
     decline the honour of an alliance which I had at one time looked
     forward to with the most considerable satisfaction. "I shall be on the continent as fast as conveyances can take me,
     therefore, should you entertain any romantic notions of calling
     me to an account for a course of proceeding I think perfectly and
     fully justifiable, you will not find me. "Accept the assurances of my respect for yourself and pity for
     your sister, and believe me to be, my dear sir, your sincere
     friend,

     "CHARLES HOLLAND." These two letters might well make the admiral stare at Henry
Bannerworth, and Henry stare at him. An occurrence so utterly and entirely unexpected by both of them, was
enough to make them doubt the evidence of their own senses. But there
were the letters, as a damning evidence of the outrageous fact, and
Charles Holland was gone. It was the admiral who first recovered from the stunning effect of the
epistles, and he, with a gesture of perfect fury, exclaimed,--

"The scoundrel--the cold-blooded villain! I renounce him for ever! he is
no nephew of mine; he is some d----d imposter! Nobody with a dash of my
family blood in his veins would have acted so to save himself from a
thousand deaths." "Who shall we trust now," said Henry, "when those whom we take to our
inmost hearts deceive us thus? This is the greatest shock I have yet
received. If there be a pang greater than another, surely it is to be
found in the faithlessness and heartlessness of one we loved and
trusted." "He is a scoundrel!" roared the admiral. "D--n him, he'll die on a
dunghill, and that's too good a place for him. I cast him off--I'll find
him out, and old as I am, I'll fight him--I'll wring his neck, the
rascal; and, as for poor dear Miss Flora, God bless her! I'll--I'll
marry her myself, and make her an admiral.--I'll marry her myself. Oh,
that I should be uncle to such a rascal!" "Calm yourself," said Henry, "no one can blame you." "Yes, you can; I had no right to be his uncle, and I was an old fool to
love him." The old man sat down, and his voice became broken with emotion as he
said,--

"Sir, I tell you I would have died willingly rather than this should
have happened. This will kill me now,--I shall die now of shame and
grief." Tears gushed from the admiral's eyes and the sight of the noble old
man's emotion did much to calm the anger of Henry which, although he
said but little, was boiling at his heart like a volcano. "Admiral Bell," he said, "you have nothing to do with this business; we
can not blame you for the heartlessness of another. I have but one
favour to ask of you." "What--what can I do?" "Say no more about him at all." "I can't help saying something about him. You ought to turn me out of
the house." "Heaven forbid! What for?" "Because I'm his uncle--his d----d old fool of an uncle, that always
thought so much of him." "Nay, my good sir, that was a fault on the right side, and cannot
discredit you. I thought him the most perfect of human beings." "Oh, if I could but have guessed this." "It was impossible.