As Jack Pringle says, it was the matter of about somewhere forty years
ago, that I was in command of the Victory frigate, which was placed upon
the West Indian station, during a war then raging, for the protection of
our ports and harbours in that vicinity. We'd not a strong force in that
quarter, therefore, I had to cut about from place to place, and do the
best I could. After a time, though, I rather think that we frightened
off the enemy, during which time I chiefly anchored off the island of
Antigua, and was hospitably received at the house of a planter, of the
name of Marchant, who, in fact, made his house my home, and introduced
me to all the _elite_ of the society of the island. Ah! Miss Flora,
you've no idea, to look at me now, what I was then; I held a captain's
commission, and was nearly the youngest man in the service, with such a
rank. I was as slender, ay, as a dancing master. These withered and
bleached locks were black as the raven's plume. Ay, ay, but no matter:
the planter had a daughter." "And you loved her?" said Flora--"Loved her," said the old man, and the
flush of youthful animation come to his countenance; "loved her, do you
say! I adored her; I worshipped her; she was to me--but what a d----d
old fool, I am; we'll skip that if you please." "Nay, nay," said Flora; "that is what I want to hear." --"I haven't the
least doubt of that, in the world; but that's just what you won't hear;
none of your nonsense, Miss Flora; the old man may be a fool, but he
isn't quite an idiot." "He's neither," said Flora; "true feelings can never disgrace any
one." --"Perhaps not; but, however, to make a long story short, somehow
or other, one day, Belinda was sitting alone, and I rudely pounced upon
her; I rather think then I must have said something that I oughtn't to
have said, for it took her so aback; I was forced, somehow or other, to
hold her up, and then I--I--yes; I'm sure I kissed her; and so, I told
her I loved her; and then, what do you think she said?" "Why," said Flora, "that she reciprocated the passion." --"D--n my rags,"
said Jack, who at the moment came into the room, "I suppose that's the
name of some shell or other." "You here, you villain!" said the admiral; "I thought you were
gone." --"So I was," said Jack, "but I came back for my hat, you see." Away he went again, and the admiral resumed his story. "Well, Miss Flora," he said, "you haven't made a good guess, as she
didn't say anything at all, she only clung to me like some wild bird to
its mother's breast, and cried as if her heart would break."--"Indeed!" "Yes; I didn't know the cause of her emotion, but at last I got it out
of her." --"What was it?" "Oh, a mere trifle; she was already married to somebody else, that's
all; some d----d fellow, who had gone trading about the islands, a
fellow she didn't care a straw about, that was old enough to be her
father." "And you left her?" --"No, I didn't. Guess again. I was a mad-headed
youngster. I only felt--I didn't think. I persuaded her to come away
with me. I took her aboard my ship, and set sail with her. A few weeks
flew like hours; but one day we were hailed by a vessel, and when we
neared her, she manned a boat and brought a letter on board, addressed
to Belinda. It was from her father, written in his last moments. It
began with a curse and ended with a blessing. There was a postscript in
another hand, to say the old man died of grief. She read it by my side
on the quarter-deck. It dropped from her grasp, and she plunged into the
sea. Jack Pringle went after her; but I never saw her again." "Gracious Heavens! what a tragedy!" --"Yes, tolerable," said the old man. He arose and took his hat and placed it on his head. He gave the crown
of it a blow that sent it nearly over his eyes. He thrust his hands deep
into his breeches pockets, clenched his teeth, and muttered something
inaudible as he strode from the apartment. "Who would have thought, Henry," said Flora, "that such a man as Admiral
Bell had been the hero of such an adventure?" --"Ay, who indeed; but it
shows that we never can judge from appearances, Flora; and that those
who seem to us the most heart-whole may have experienced the wildest
vicissitudes of passion." "And we must remember, likewise, that this was forty years ago, Henry,
which makes a material difference in the state of the case as regards
Admiral Bell." "It does indeed--more than half a lifetime; and yet how evident it was
that his old feelings clung to him. I can well imagine the many hours of
bitter regret which the memory of this his lost love must have given
him." "True--true. I can feel something for him; for have I not lost one who
loved me--a worse loss, too, than that which Admiral Bell relates; for
am I not a prey to all the horrors of uncertainty? Whereas he knew the
worst, and that, at all events, death had claimed its victim, leaving
nothing to conjecture in the shape of suffering, so that the mind had
nothing to do but to recover slowly, but surely, as it would from the
shock which it had received." "That is worse than you, Flora; but rather would I have you cherish hope
of soon beholding Charles Holland, probably alive and well, than fancy
any great disaster has come over him." "I will endeavour to do so," replied Flora. "I long to hear what has become of Dr. Chillingworth. His disappearance
is most singular; for I fully suspected that he had some particular
object in view in getting possession for a short time of Bannerworth
Hall; but now, from Jack Pringle's account, he appears not to be in it,
and, in fact, to have disappeared completely from the sight of all who
knew him." "Yes," said Flora; "but he may have done that, brother, still in
furtherance of his object." "It may be so, and I will hope that it is so. Keep yourself close,
sister, and see no one, while I proceed to his house to inquire if they
have heard anything of him. I will return soon, be assured; and, in the
meantime, should you see my brother, tell him I shall be at home in an
hour or so, and not to leave the cottage; for it is more than likely
that the admiral has gone to Bannerworth Hall, so that you may not see
anything of him for some time." CHAPTER LXVIII. MARCHDALE'S ATTEMPTED VILLANY, AND THE RESULT. [Illustration]

Varney the vampyre left the dungeon of Charles Holland amid the grey
ruins, with a perfect confidence the young man would keep his word, and
not attempt to escape from that place until the time had elapsed which
he had dictated to him. And well might he have that confidence, for having once given his word
that he would remain until he heard the clock strike two from a
neighbouring church, Charles Holland never dreamt for a moment of
breaking it. To be sure it was a weary time to wait when liberty appeared before him;
but he was the soul of honour, and the least likely man in all the world
to infringe in the slightest upon the condition which he had, of his own
free will, acceded to.