"If I stand beside it, thus," said Varney, placing himself in a
favourable attitude for comparing the two faces, "I dare say you will be
more struck with the likeness than before." So accurate was it now, that the same light fell upon his face as that
under which the painter had executed the portrait, that all started back
a step or two. "Some artists," remarked Varney, "have the sense to ask where a portrait
is to be hung before they paint it, and then they adapt their lights and
shadows to those which would fall upon the original, were it similarly
situated." "I cannot stand this," said Charles to Henry; "I must question him
farther." "As you please, but do not insult him." "I will not." "He is beneath my roof now, and, after all, it is but a hideous
suspicion we have of him." "Rely upon me." Charles stepped forward, and once again confronting Varney, with an
earnest gaze, he said--

"Do you know, sir, that Miss Bannerworth declares the vampyre she
fancies to have visited this chamber to be, in features, the exact
counterpart of this portrait?" "Does she indeed?" "She does, indeed." "And perhaps, then, that accounts for her thinking that I am the
vampyre, because I bear a strong resemblance to the portrait." "I should not be surprised," said Charles. "How very odd." "Very." "And yet entertaining. I am rather amused than otherwise. The idea of
being a vampyre. Ha! ha! If ever I go to a masquerade again, I shall
certainly assume the character of a vampyre." "You would do it well." "I dare say, now, I should make quite a sensation." "I am certain you would. Do you not think, gentlemen, that Sir Francis
Varney would enact the character to the very life? By Heavens, he would
do it so well that one might, without much difficulty, really imagine
him a vampyre." "Bravo--bravo," said Varney, as he gently folded his hands together,
with that genteel applause that may even be indulged in in a box at the
opera itself. "Bravo. I like to see young persons enthusiastic; it looks
as if they had some of the real fire of genius in their composition. Bravo--bravo." This was, Charles thought, the very height and acme of impudence, and
yet what could he do? What could he say? He was foiled by the downright
coolness of Varney. As for Henry, George, and Mr. Marchdale, they had listened to what was
passing between Sir Francis and Charles in silence. They feared to
diminish the effect of anything Charles might say, by adding a word of
their own; and, likewise, they did not wish to lose one observation that
might come from the lips of Varney. But now Charles appeared to have said all he had to say, he turned to
the window and looked out. He seemed like a man who had made up his
mind, for a time, to give up some contest in which he had been engaged. And, perhaps, not so much did he give it up from any feeling or
consciousness of being beaten, as from a conviction that it could be the
more effectually, at some other and far more eligible opportunity,
renewed. Varney now addressed Henry, saying,--

"I presume the subject of our conference, when you did me the honour of
a call, is no secret to any one here?" "None whatever," said Henry. "Then, perhaps, I am too early in asking you if you have made up your
mind?" "I have scarcely, certainly, had time to think." "My dear sir, do not let me hurry you; I much regret, indeed, the
intrusion." "You seem anxious to possess the Hall," remarked Mr. Marchdale, to
Varney. "I am." "Is it new to you?" "Not quite. I have some boyish recollections connected with this
neighbourhood, among which Bannerworth Hall stands sufficiently
prominent." "May I ask how long ago that was?" said Charles Howard, rather abruptly. "I do not recollect, my enthusiastic young friend," said Varney. "How
old are you?" "Just about twenty-one." "You are, then, for your age, quite a model of discretion." It would have been difficult for the most accurate observer of human
nature to have decided whether this was said truthfully or ironically,
so Charles made no reply to it whatever. "I trust," said Henry, "we shall induce you, as this is your first
visit, Sir Francis Varney, to the Hall, to partake of some thing." "Well, well, a cup of wine--"

"Is at your service." Henry now led the way to a small parlour, which, although by no means
one of the showiest rooms of the house, was, from the care and exquisite
carving with which it abounded, much more to the taste of any who
possessed an accurate judgment in such works of art. Then wine was ordered, and Charles took an opportunity of whispering to
Henry,--

"Notice well if he drinks." "I will." "Do you see that beneath his coat there is a raised place, as if his arm
was bound up?" "I do." "There, then, was where the bullet from the pistol fired by Flora, when
we were at the church, hit him." "Hush! for God's sake, hush! you are getting into a dreadful state of
excitement, Charles; hush! hush!" "And can you blame--"

"No, no; but what can we do?" "You are right. Nothing can we do at present. We have a clue now, and be
it our mutual inclination, as well as duty, to follow it. Oh, you shall
see how calm I will be!" "For Heaven's sake, be so. I have noted that his eyes flash upon yours
with no friendly feeling." "His friendship were a curse." "Hush! he drinks!" "Watch him." "I will." "Gentlemen all," said Sir Francis Varney, in such soft, dulcet tones,
that it was quite a fascination to hear him speak; "gentlemen all, being
as I am, much delighted with your company, do not accuse me of
presumption, if I drink now, poor drinker as I am, to our future merry
meetings." He raised the wine to his lips, and seemed to drink, after which he
replaced the glass upon the table. Charles glanced at it, it was still full. "You have not drank, Sir Francis Varney," he said. "Pardon me, enthusiastic young sir," said Varney, "perhaps you will have
the liberality to allow me to take my wine how I please and when I
please." "Your glass is full." "Well, sir?" "Will you drink it?" "Not at any man's bidding, most certainly. If the fair Flora Bannerworth
would grace the board with her sweet presence, methinks I could then
drink on, on, on." "Hark you, sir," cried Charles, "I can bear no more of this. We have had
in this house most horrible and damning evidence that there are such
things as vampyres." "Have you really? I suppose you eat raw pork at supper, and so had the
nightmare?" "A jest is welcome in its place, but pray hear me out, sir, if it suit
your lofty courtesy to do so." "Oh, certainly." "Then I say we believe, as far as human judgment has a right to go, that
a vampyre has been here." "Go on, it's interesting. I always was a lover of the wild and the
wonderful." "We have, too," continued Charles, "some reason to believe that you are
the man." Varney tapped his forehead as he glanced at Henry, and said,--

"Oh, dear, I did not know. You should have told me he was a little wrong
about the brain; I might have quarreled with the lad.