Mrs. Chillingworth, however, kept on talking to the mob, who continued
shouting; and the authorities anticipated an immediate outbreak of
popular opinion, which is generally accompanied by some forcible
demonstration, and on this occasion some one suggested the propriety of
burning down Bannerworth Hall; because they had burned down the
vampyre's home, and they might as well burn down that of the injured
party, which was carried by acclamation; and with loud shouts they
started on their errand. This was a mob's proceeding all over, and we regret very much to say,
that it is very much the characteristic of English mobs. What an
uncommonly strange thing it is that people in multitudes seem completely
to get rid of all reason--all honour--all common ordinary honesty;
while, if you were to take the same people singly, you would find that
they were reasonable enough, and would shrink with a feeling quite
approaching to horror from anything in the shape of very flagrant
injustice. This can only be accounted for by a piece of cowardice in the human
race, which induces them when alone, and acting with the full
responsibility of their actions, to shrink from what it is quite evident
they have a full inclination to do, and will do when, having partially
lost their individuality in a crowd, they fancy, that to a certain
extent they can do so with impunity. The burning of Sir Francis Varney's house, although it was one of those
proceedings which would not bear the test of patient examination, was
yet, when we take all the circumstances into consideration, an act
really justifiable and natural in comparison with the one which was now
meditated. Bannerworth Hall had never been the residence even of anyone who had
done the people any injury or given them any offence, so that to let it
become a prey to the flames was but a gratuitous act of mischief. It was, however, or seemed to be, doomed, for all who have had any
experience in mobs, must know how extremely difficult it is to withdraw
them from any impulse once given, especially when that impulse, as in
the present instance, is of a violent character. "Down with Bannerworth Hall!" was the cry. "Burn it--burn it," and
augmented by fresh numbers each minute, the ignorant, and, in many
respects, ruffianly assemblage, soon arrived within sight of what had
been for so many years the bane of the Bannerworths, and whatever may
have been the fault of some of that race, those faults had been of a
domestic character, and not at all such as would interfere with the
public weal. The astonished, and almost worn-out authorities, hastily, now, after
having disposed of their prisoners, collected together what troops they
could, and by the time the misguided, or rather the not guided at all
populace, had got halfway to Bannerworth Hall, they were being
outflanked by some of the dragoons, who, by taking a more direct route,
hoped to reach Bannerworth Hall first, and so perhaps, by letting the
mob see that it was defended, induce them to give up the idea of its
destruction on account of the danger attendant upon the proceeding by
far exceeding any of the anticipated delight of the disturbance. [Illustration]




CHAPTER LXXI. THE STRANGE MEETING AT THE HALL BETWEEN MR. CHILLINGWORTH AND THE
MYSTERIOUS FRIEND OF VARNEY. [Illustration]

When we praise our friend Mr. Chillingworth for not telling his wife
where he was going, in pursuance of a caution and a discrimination so
highly creditable to him, we are quite certain that he has no such
excuse as regards the reader. Therefore we say at once that he had his
own reasons now for taking up his abode at Bannerworth Hall for a time. These reasons seemed to be all dependant upon the fact of having met the
mysterious man at Sir Francis Varney's; and although we perhaps would
have hoped that the doctor might have communicated to Henry Bannerworth
all that he knew and all that he surmised, yet have we no doubt that
what he keeps to himself he has good reasons for so keeping, and that
his actions as regards it are founded upon some very just conclusions. He has then made a determination to take possession of, and remain in,
Bannerworth Hall according to the full and free leave which the admiral
had given him so to do. What results he anticipated from so lonely and
so secret a watch we cannot say, but probably they will soon exhibit
themselves. It needed no sort of extraordinary discrimination for any
one to feel it once that not the least good, in the way of an ambuscade,
was likely to be effected by such persons as Admiral Bell or Jack
Pringle. They were all very well when fighting should actually ensue,
but they both were certainly remarkably and completely deficient in
diplomatic skill, or in that sort of patience which should enable them
at all to compete with the cunning, the skill, and the nice
discrimination of such a man as Sir Francis Varney. If anything were to be done in that way it was unquestionably to be done
by some one alone, who, like the doctor, would, and could, remain
profoundly quiet and await the issue of events, be they what they might,
and probably remain a spy and attempt no overt act which should be of a
hostile character. This unquestionably was the mode, and perhaps we
should not be going too far when we say it was the only mode which could
be with anything like safety relied upon as one likely to lead really to
a discovery of Sir Francis Varney's motives in making such determined
exertions to get possession of Bannerworth Hall. That night was doomed to be a very eventful one, indeed; for on it had
Charles Holland been, by a sort of wild impulsive generosity of Sir
Francis Varney, rescued from the miserable dungeon in which he had been
confined, and on that night, too, he, whom we cannot otherwise describe
than as the villain Marchdale, had been, in consequence of the evil that
he himself meditated, and the crime with which he was quite willing to
stain his soul, been condemned to occupy Charles's position. On that night, too, had the infuriated mob determined upon the
destruction of Bannerworth Hall, and on that night was Mr. Chillingworth
waiting with what patience he could exert, at the Hall, for whatever in
the chapter of accidents might turn up of an advantageous character to
that family in whose welfare and fortunes he felt so friendly and so
deep an interest. Let us look, then, at the worthy doctor as he keeps his solitary watch. He did not, as had been the case when the admiral shared the place with
him in the hope of catching Varney on that memorable occasion when he
caught only his boot, sit in a room with a light and the means and
appliances for making the night pass pleasantly away; but, on the
contrary, he abandoned the house altogether, and took up a station in
that summer-house which has been before mentioned as the scene of a
remarkable interview between Flora Bannerworth and Varney the vampyre.