"Upon the words that come
from your lips I know I can rely." "I will have no reservations with you," said Henry, sadly. "You ought to
know all, and you shall. Prepare yourself for the strangest revelation
you ever heard." "Indeed!" "Ay. One which in hearing you may well doubt; and one which, I hope, you
will never find an opportunity of verifying." "You speak in riddles." "And yet speak truly, Charles. You heard with what a frantic vehemence
Flora desired you to think no more of her?" "I did--I did." "She was right. She is a noble-hearted girl for uttering those words. A
dreadful incident in our family has occurred, which might well induce
you to pause before uniting your fate with that of any member of it." "Impossible. Nothing can possibly subdue the feelings of affection I
entertain for Flora. She is worthy of any one, and, as such, amid all
changes--all mutations of fortune, she shall be mine." "Do not suppose that any change of fortune has produced the scene you
were witness to." "Then, what else?" "I will tell you, Holland. In all your travels, and in all your reading,
did you ever come across anything about vampyres?" "About what?" cried Charles, drawing his chair forward a little. "About
what?" "You may well doubt the evidence of your own ears, Charles Holland, and
wish me to repeat what I said. I say, do you know anything about
vampyres?" Charles Holland looked curiously in Henry's face, and the latter
immediately added,--

"I can guess what is passing in your mind at present, and I do not
wonder at it. You think I must be mad." "Well, really, Henry, your extraordinary question--"

"I knew it. Were I you, I should hesitate to believe the tale; but the
fact is, we have every reason to believe that one member of our own
family is one of those horrible preternatural beings called vampyres." "Good God, Henry, can you allow your judgment for a moment to stoop to
such a supposition?" "That is what I have asked myself a hundred times; but, Charles Holland,
the judgment, the feelings, and all the prejudices, natural and
acquired, must succumb to actual ocular demonstration. Listen to me, and
do not interrupt me. You shall know all, and you shall know it
circumstantially." Henry then related to the astonished Charles Holland all that had
occurred, from the first alarm of Flora, up to that period when he,
Holland, caught her in his arms as she was about to leave the room. "And now," he said, in conclusion, "I cannot tell what opinion you may
come to as regards these most singular events. You will recollect that
here is the unbiassed evidence of four or five people to the facts, and,
beyond that, the servants, who have seen something of the horrible
visitor." "You bewilder me, utterly," said Charles Holland. "As we are all bewildered." "But--but, gracious Heaven! it cannot be." "It is." "No--no. There is--there must be yet some dreadful mistake." "Can you start any supposition by which we can otherwise explain any of
the phenomena I have described to you? If you can, for Heaven's sake do
so, and you will find no one who will cling to it with more tenacity
than I." "Any other species or kind of supernatural appearance might admit of
argument; but this, to my perception, is too wildly improbable--too much
at variance with all we see and know of the operations of nature." "It is so. All that we have told ourselves repeatedly, and yet is all
human reason at once struck down by the few brief words of--'We have
seen it.'" "I would doubt my eyesight." "One might; but many cannot be labouring under the same delusion." "My friend, I pray you, do not make me shudder at the supposition that
such a dreadful thing as this is at all possible." "_I_ am, believe me, Charles, most unwilling to oppress anyone with the
knowledge of these evils; but you are so situated with us, that you
ought to know, and you will clearly understand that you may, with
perfect honour, now consider yourself free from all engagements you have
entered into with Flora." "No, no! By Heaven, no!" "Yes, Charles. Reflect upon the consequences now of a union with such a
family." "Oh, Henry Bannerworth, can you suppose me so dead to all good feeling,
so utterly lost to honourable impulses, as to eject from my heart her
who has possession of it entirely, on such a ground as this?" "You would be justified." "Coldly justified in prudence I might be. There are a thousand
circumstances in which a man may be justified in a particular course of
action, and that course yet may be neither honourable nor just. I love
Flora; and were she tormented by the whole of the supernatural world, I
should still love her. Nay, it becomes, then, a higher and a nobler duty
on my part to stand between her and those evils, if possible." "Charles--Charles," said Henry, "I cannot of course refuse to you my
meed of praise and admiration for your generosity of feeling; but,
remember, if we are compelled, despite all our feelings and all our
predilections to the contrary, to give in to a belief in the existence
of vampyres, why may we not at once receive as the truth all that is
recorded of them?" "To what do you allude?" "To this. That one who has been visited by a vampyre, and whose blood
has formed a horrible repast for such a being, becomes, after death, one
of the dreadful race, and visits others in the same way." "Now this must be insanity," cried Charles. "It bears the aspect of it, indeed," said Henry; "oh, that you could by
some means satisfy yourself that I am mad." "There may be insanity in this family," thought Charles, with such an
exquisite pang of misery, that he groaned aloud. "Already," added Henry, mournfully, "already the blighting influence of
the dreadful tale is upon you, Charles. Oh, let me add my advice to
Flora's entreaties. She loves you, and we all esteem you; fly, then,
from us, and leave us to encounter our miseries alone. Fly from us,
Charles Holland, and take with you our best wishes for happiness which
you cannot know here." "Never," cried Charles; "I devote my existence to Flora. I will not play
the coward, and fly from one whom I love, on such grounds. I devote my
life to her." Henry could not speak for emotion for several minutes, and when at
length, in a faltering voice, he could utter some words, he said,--

"God of heaven, what happiness is marred by these horrible events? What
have we all done to be the victims of such a dreadful act of vengeance?" "Henry, do not talk in that way," cried Charles. "Rather let us bend all
our energies to overcoming the evil, than spend any time in useless
lamentations. I cannot even yet give in to a belief in the existence of
such a being as you say visited Flora." "But the evidences." "Look you here, Henry: until I am convinced that some things have
happened which it is totally impossible could happen by any human means
whatever, I will not ascribe them to supernatural influence." "But what human means, Charles, could produce what I have now narrated
to you?"